“And of course,” Captain Hall added, “if we started transmitting we'd reveal our location. No, the aliens always destroy all active emitters when they take a system; that latch-frame still works is key. I imagine they'll search for us for a set period of time -- a couple of hours and if they don't see us, they'll call us and say 'All-e, all-e, outs in free!'”
Four hours was the magic number. Four hours after they'd docked with the asteroid, the system came alive again, the active emitters turning on and ships going to fans.
A woman in her mid-thirties appeared on the comm screen. “Well done, Pixie! You realized that if you run your fans, we can detect you as well! And, of course, you did a creditable job obscuring your final approach.”
“Only creditable?” Cindy whispered to Pixie to be relayed to the others.
“Active scan!” Tin Tin commanded.
“Ship going to fans...” Chief Shore reported. “Less than four hundred kilometers off.”
“Just remember, Captain Hall, that the other side can plan and calculate every bit as well as we can. There was nothing you could do to obscure your approach, not until you went off fans. It wasn't hard to realize that you'd come off fans beneath the plane, in a position where a little thrust would put you in the plane, moving at the same velocity as the debris disk. It was simple enough to be here first.”
So, Cindy thought, her great ideas had come to naught. Captain Drake had figured out about the thing about the fans and figured out Cindy's approach as well. It was humbling.
A voice whispered in her head. “Ensign, for heaven's sake! Master's Game is the best AI in the Federation! I asked it to rate the odds of your success when I first heard the plans for the Pixie class of ships. Imagine my surprise when it came back with a big fat goose egg. It took a bit to elicit the information that if we're running a fan that can detect another fan -- your fan would be detected in turn. You reached that conclusion on your own.
“And, for sure I didn't calculate where you'd be. I had Master's Game calculate the most likely orbit you'd take. You don't even want to know how many orbits he calculated to come up with the one you used.”
“Captain Drake, sir,” Cindy acknowledged.
“I am, Ensign, looking forward to meeting all of you. Prepare to receive a shuttle. You tell Captain Hall, Ensign.”
Everyone was present on the bridge; Cindy could have just told Captain Hall over the link. Instead she spoke aloud. “Captain Hall, Captain Drake asks us to be prepared to receive a shuttle.”
“I'm so humiliated,” Captain Hall whispered.
Tin Tin laughed. “No, you're not. It's a useful lesson, Captain. Pride goeth before the fall, you know? We expected them to be searching for us -- we should have known that we had to do the same thing. Next time, Captain, we won't be fooled.”
“Captain, Captain Drake says she has a very good AI aboard her ship.”
“Go figure!” Tin Tin said, grinning widely. “The Queen of AI has a better machine than she sells to the Fleet! Who'd have thought!”
They were ordered to the Fleet base in the Adobe system. It wasn't like very many other Fleet bases... at first such bases had been on planets, then on moons and eventually high orbit habitats.
Adobe's base was in the debris belt, well outside the fan well.
“Isn't that a risk?” Cindy asked Tin Tin.
“Yes and no. If our enemies ever develop some cleverness, it won't be safe. As it is, they are handicapped in several ways. They need more than two minutes after one fan transition to make another. Another thing is they simply use one size of weapon -- about a gigaton. That's fine and dandy, but it means you can't fight someone from close up -- or you blow yourself up as well.
“They rarely launch a weapon from closer than a light second, and never inside a half light second. Now that we can detect them on High Fan, it means we track them coming in, and the instant they drop from High Fan, a blue takes them. If they've managed to launch a missile -- they usually don't have that long -- a second blue takes the missile.
“To be safe from blues, they need to be at least a light minute out, and making radical courses changes continually -- above all randomly. Show us a pattern, and even at a light minute a blue will score. Worse, we put up blue missiles -- like fixed sites, they'll take a shot if they can... so even if their target is randomly changing acceleration and course we can hit them if they stay on the same bearing for a fraction of a second too long.
“Adobe is probably defended at least as well as Earth, although with a different force mix.” He gestured in the direction they were headed. “There are tens of thousands of rocks in the debris belt. How many of them have Fleet installations is highly classified, but as was once said -- we want them to find blues under every rock they look at.”
Captain Hall spoke up. “Screen call coming up. Not only Captain Drake will be present, but the admirals commanding the Fleet Aloft base here. Do try to avoid speaking unless directly addressed, and then keep it short and on point. Polite, too!”
A moment later the main screen lit up. Sitting at desk was a weather-beaten older man, who still had a head of hair, although it was gray. More importantly, he wasn't wearing a Fleet shipsuit -- he was wearing a long-sleeve blue-checked shirt.
A severe, prune-faced woman was standing stiffly, facing them, wearing a Port shipsuit. The last person was Captain Drake, wearing a plain white shipsuit, with just her rank insignia. It took a second before Cindy realized that only the Port admiral was wearing medals.
The male admiral, the one with three stars spoke first. “I'm Vice Admiral Charles Gull, commanding the Adobe Fleet Base, with the additional hat of commanding the Fleet Aloft forces present. Present also on the link is Rear Admiral Sun Yung Kim, commanding the Port facilities here, and Captain Colinda Drake, my flag captain and acting deputy.”
Captain Hall spoke up. “I'm Lieutenant Carmen Irene Hall, commanding Pixie, and my crew.”
“It is never good for a commanding officer to single out officers for criticism before their juniors; however as has been made abundantly clear to me, something needs to be said and there is no way that Admiral Kim will think it's directed at anyone else.
“Pixie is here on the direct orders of the Chief of Fleet Operations, under the immediate direction of the Federation Council. There is no one present in this system with the authority to contradict or change those orders. There have been a number of problems that Captain Hall has had to face about subsidiary issues, not germane to her mission. So far those subsidiary issues have caused only minimal delays.
“Admiral Nagoya has, however, told me that he's had enough of such delays. In his special orders to me he has authorized me to execute any further individuals who even attempt to delay Pixie's mission: it is that important to the Federation and the war effort. Admiral Kim, you will instruct your officers that they are to fully and completely respond to any requirements Pixie has, with alacrity and courtesy. If you have any issues with Pixie, her mission or her crew, you will contact me directly, and not bother Captain Hall or her crew.”
“After the disruptions of the last few days?” the Port Admiral interrupted.
“Admiral, we held an unannounced exercise of Adobe's reaction to impending attack. You were told in advance that the exercise would occur.”
“They were four days late!”
Admiral Gull chuckled. “If I could have communicated with them, and had I the authority to request it -- which I do not -- I'd have asked them to be a few days late. Our enemies will not attack us on our approved training schedule, Admiral. Now please, we have things to do.
“I see you had your slop bucket requirements ready, Captain Hall.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We'll be getting those out to you at once. Once you've seen to your ship's needs, you may allow crew leave at the Fleet base here, no more than two at a time, I'm afraid, and no more than a day each.
“I wish you, Captain Hall, along with your officers and Master Gunny Hodges, to re
pair aboard Master's Game to begin discussions with Captain Drake on exercises to occupy Pixie until Commodore Heisenberg arrives, once resupply has been accomplished.”
He grinned. “You may take it as a given, that if Commodore Heisenberg comes into the Adobe system as so many Fleet ships do, fat, dumb, and happy, we will promptly ambush them to suggest that she should do better in the future. You have no idea how much satisfaction it would give me to one-up the commodore. You will want to come up with a suitable addition for yourselves in that regard.
“Is there anything else?”
“No, sir,” Captain Hall replied.
“Oh! I almost forgot! Ensign Rhodes has a birthday in two days! Ensign, you and the rest of the Pixie's crew will join me aboard my flagship that evening for a meal.”
“Admiral Kim? Is there anything else?”
“No, Admiral. You've made your opinions crystal clear.”
Admiral Gull smiled benignly. “Admiral Kim, those aren't my opinions that I've explained. Those are Admiral Nagoya's desires and intentions.”
Cindy was pleasantly surprised the next day when they shuttled over to Master's Game that she was relegated to the passenger compartment instead of being on the command deck. She thought that was because Tin Tin, Shinzu and Gunny Hodges all vied for the other seat. At least Cindy could watch Captain Hall's face as they made the trip; she too having been informed that she should ride in the passenger compartment.
If Cindy had thought about it, she might have realized that something was up. Tin Tin had had an odd smile on his face when he'd asked Captain Hall to relax on the flight.
They were received by Captain Drake when they arrived in Master's Game's shuttle bay. There were a few words of greeting and then Captain Drake smiled.
“I received your request to sit for a few of the simpler one-x certificates, Captain Hall. I reviewed your records and I agree that you should get started with those.”
Captain Drake turned to Cindy, who was surprised to be singled out. “After studying flight logs and records, I find that Captain Hall and Ensign Rhodes have been piloting large warships without an advanced flight certificate, much less a master's certificate.
“I can accept that sort of thing in emergencies or exceptional circumstances; I'm uncomfortable with it for routine flights.” She smiled pleasantly and Cindy tried to think just what the captain intended.
“Oh, no!” Captain Hall said with a grimace.
“Oh, yes! Captain Hall, Ensign Rhodes. I have personally reviewed your training records and the recommendation of your training officers. Both of you have displayed more than adequate understanding of the requirements... leaving out only the last little hurdle to gaining your advanced flight certificates.”
“Now, Captain Drake?” Captain Hall asked.
“Now, Captain Hall. Ditto for you, Ensign Rhodes.”
“I'm not sure what you mean, Captain,” Cindy told her.
“I would be gravely disappointed in you, Ensign, if you weren't aware of the final portion of the advanced flight certification.”
Then it hit Cindy, squarely between the eyes. Commander Shapiro had mentioned it, tangentially, when she was talking about Hannah Sawyer. The EVA qualification. You donned an EVA suit, were pointed out a target at a remove from your location. You flew to it, circled around it and returned. A piece of cake. Hannah Sawyer had one the best times, ever, on that test.
Of course, you were outside, in the vacuum of space, with nothing but your EVA suit between you and death. Where your navigation was completely without computer support, just bare bones sensors, to get you to your destination and back.
She followed woodenly as Captain Drake led them an entirely too short distance to a room where there were a number of EVA suits.
“Please, don your party dresses,” the captain told them. With that, she too went to an EVA suit and began to don it. Cindy took a second to record the name on the suit: “Master's Master.” At least it kept her mind off of what was happening.
In a few minutes she and Captain Hall had donned EVA suits -- Cindy had practiced a hundred times aboard Pixie. Not only was Captain Drake suited up, but so were Tin Tin and the gunny.
It seemed to Cindy that Captain Hall was a little tentative. She didn't go very fast, and took almost ten minutes to go out and back.
“Very good, Captain Hall!” Captain Drake said, laughing. “Why, I didn't do much better when I took my certificate exam!”
Cindy had learned to query the link. Captain Drake had been ten when she'd passed her advanced pilot exam, at the earliest age possible to take the exam. Captain Drake had, in fact, beaten Captain Hall's time by almost a minute.
Shinzu's voice whispered in her head. “What you do is line up on the target, thrust offline for a second or so, then put the crosshairs on the target, and thrust as hard as you can. Watch the distance; when you're about a second from half way, rotate and hit the brakes. The target should pass right by your nose; go around and repeat on the return flight. Don't think about anything else!”
Cindy closed her eyes. How could she possibly do this?
Captain Drake lifted her feet from the shuttle bay's deck, and pointed out the target. “Hundred and ten meters, Ensign! A piece of cake!”
It was, Cindy learned, sobering. She lined up and thrust offline for a second, and then tentatively pushed the controls to accelerate. She could see the velocity numbers; they were much lower than she expected. She pushed harder, and the change, while significant, she'd gone from basically a slow amble to a loping run.
She pushed harder and when she reached the right point, rotated and braked. She nearly brushed the target as she went around it, but managed to keep off. She wasn't tentative on the way back. She was proud of coming to a stop almost exactly where Captain Drake had let her go.
“Now that's how it's done!” Tin Tin Roeser said.
“I'd like to find out how she practiced aboard Pixie,” Captain Hall said, although she was laughing.
A short while later they were in a conference room, munching breakfast and listening to Captain Drake.
“Have any of you heard of the ship, 'Fargo?'” she asked them.
“I have,” Cindy replied.
“And what did you hear?”
“It was at a briefing; Admiral Kinney mentioned the name and gave an intelligence report.”
“That was most circumspect, Ensign! Very good!
“Fargo is a ship I designed myself and built here, first of her class. I'd wanted to name her Bismarck, but the Germans objected, saying they wanted to reserve the name for a warship, not an intelligence platform, so I chose Fargo just to snit them.
“Fargo is something like a carrier, except not. Fargo carries about fifty advanced recon platforms -- they are designed to be able to shadow enemy fleets. They are fast, and they have an unbelievable number of fans. What Fargo does is to skirt an enemy fleet, while the smaller recon platforms trail and precede that fleet.
“The recon platforms are tasked to look innocent. They have skew courses that take them at a distance from the enemy formation. Fargo shadowed that fleet from the instant they were detected... and I might add, they were detected by Fargo during her initial workup.
“Pixie's design is somewhat derivative of Fargo's, although I had nothing to do with it. You were intended to be a stationary observer, reporting on passing traffic. I will not try to justify the BuShips obvious failure in the mission design phase. Fargo detected the oncoming fleet and sent a warning here, plus, launched her first observers.
“Warned, we went on alert, while sending a warning back towards the Federation. By the time the aliens passed us, about thirty light years out, we had determined that their line passed through the home system.”
She sighed. “I wish we had FTL communication back to Earth, but...”
“Captain...” Cindy said, speaking without thinking.
She blushed, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.
“What, Ensign?”
>
“I read somewhere that we could send latch-frame signals a light year, if we needed to, using large, tight lasers. How far could we send latch-frame with Blues?”
“Further, I suspect.”
“Put ships every couple of light years... maybe something larger. Set up a relay chain.”
Captain Drake looked at her steadily for a few moments. “I was about to make a dismissive remark, Ensign. Master's Game is a lot like a surrogate father; if I'd have spoken too soon, I'd have had my ears boxed. My first objection was that we'd have to wait nearly ninety years to get the relay going back to Earth.
“But of course, the delay is only the length of time it takes the beam to go from one station to another. Every light year; that makes sense. We could have FTL communication back to Earth in a year.” She paused and laughed. “Okay, we will have FTL communication back to Earth in a year.”
Once again she was silent, regarding Cindy. The rest of the room was still, no one speaking.
“Captain Drake, may I speak?” Tin Tin said into the silence.
“As you wish... Ensign.” The was a definite edge of sarcasm at the rank.
“I was on the bridge of the City of Manhattan after the initial action at New Texas. I was informed of the sensor reports, the captain's decisions and the basis of those decisions. I'm told that it's to my credit that my initial contribution to the war effort was an avowal that I wasn't daft and had no intention of trying to assume command of City of Manhattan.
“David Zinder had informed those decisions. He was the first person in the Federation to mark that the aliens seemed to be able to detect ships on High Fan. It was David Zinder who told Captain Malforce that we had to return to New Texas, no matter what the risk to his hundreds of passengers and crew.
“Yes, Bethany Booth was there; no slouch when it comes to analysis. Vice Admiral Dennis Booth was there; no slouch in any effort he has undertaken. But it was David Zinder who spoke first.
“By the time he reached Earth, he was a Fleet full lieutenant, and a few weeks later, a lieutenant commander.
“I submit, Captain Drake, we've been too casual with the fates of certain officers of genius caliber. Hannah Sawyer had no business flying her last mission. A six year old could have done it. Anyone should have done it, except her. David Zinder was thrown away with an officer who should have been shot, not catered too.
Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6) Page 18