by James Rosone
“No, Miles, you didn’t fail them, and you certainly didn’t kill them,” Bailey replied. “The Zodarks killed them. The Zodarks are responsible for their deaths, not you. You did what every ship captain must do, fight and win. You have a command staff. It’s their responsibility to handle the damage control duties. It’s your job to fight the ship and ensure you guys survive and win. Had you not done that, Miles, your entire crew may have been lost. You did what we’ve trained you to do, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Captain Hunt wiped away a tear. “Thank you, Chester, I think I just needed to hear that.”
“Look, Miles, we’re sending you back into battle soon. You’re going to lose more sailors and soldiers. We’re about to fight a savage new species we still know very little about. As much as it pains me to say this, we’re going to lose a lot of good people in the coming days. Unfortunately, this is part of the job of being in command, ordering people into positions and situations where you know many of them may not come back. It’s unfortunate, but it’s going to happen. With this new war we find ourselves in, it’s going to happen a lot more.”
He paused. “I can also tell you this, Miles. You aren’t the only one who’s going to struggle with this. I’m going to need you to be strong for your officers. They’re going to be experiencing the same things you are. They’re going to be looking to you for leadership and guidance. You need to stay strong, and you need to be there for them, just as I’m here for you, OK? Can you do that for me, Miles?”
Not saying anything for a minute, Hunt turned to look at his friend. “I can, and I will. Thank you, sir. Thank you for talking with me and giving me some perspective.”
*******
Mars Orbital Station
RNS Rook
The small shuttlecraft hovered a thousand meters from the bow of the Rook. Captain Hunt and a couple of inspectors peered out the windows at the forward starboard section of the ship. This was where the Zodarks’ pulse beam had torn a gash in the Rook’s armor and hull. It had taken the engineers close to five months to rebuild this part of the ship. Using the searchlights to illuminate that section of the ship, they could see it looked good as new.
They continued to move along the starboard side of the ship as they inspected the next section of the hull. While they were completing the final outer hull inspection, the crews were working feverishly inside to complete the armament upgrades. A lot had changed in that department since their last foray into the Rhea system. They had more than a few nasty surprises in store for the Zodarks.
*******
During the five months in the drydock, the Rook had been given a considerable boost in firepower. They’d swapped out the twenty-four-inch magrails for thirty-six-inch guns to give them more hitting power. The fifty percent increase in size allowed them to incorporate a revolutionary new design into the weapon.
One of the R&D engineers at BlueOrigin happened to be a bit of a historical weapons nut. One evening, while watching the History Channel, he had seen an episode about the first Gulf War, when a coalition of nations had joined forces against the government of Iraq to oust them from Kuwait. The episode talked about how the Americans had taken what were essentially unguided dumb bombs and attached a kit to them that turned them into guidable smart munitions.
The following day, the engineer had looked at the new thirty-six-inch shell they were adding to the Rook and the Voyager. Thinking about the episode from the previous night, the engineer tried to figure out how he could turn an unguided magrail projectile into a guidable high-explosive penetrator. Then it dawned on him: if he leveraged the same amount of explosives from the previous smaller shells, it’d give him just enough room inside the body of the shell to insert a small canister of compressed air.
Next, the engineer looked at the shell itself. If he carved some grooves into the rear section of the shell, he could create a means of steering the projectile once it was fired by using a small cannister of compressed air. Next, he had to develop a guidance system on the nose of the slug that could survive the high-powered magnet used to hurl the projectile down the barrel at incredible speeds. To compensate for this, he sheathed the tip in a steel core specially designed to peel off once it had been fired. This would allow the guidance system to receive a short microburst message from the ship, assigning it a target. As the projectile flew toward the enemy, it could make microadjustments to its trajectory with the compressed air to give it a better chance of hitting the target.
At first, no one had thought it would work, but once it had been tested a few times, they’d only had to make a couple of adjustments and it was done. They’d officially found a way to turn a dumb round into a guidable projectile.
*******
The inspector flying in the shuttle with Hunt maneuvered them deftly around the huge ship to the next section. “I don’t envy you, Captain, having to go fight the Zodarks and all. But these upgrades should allow you to give ’em hell.” As he spoke, the Musk Industry inspector electronically signed off on his portion of the paperwork.
Nodding in agreement, Hunt took the tablet and added his signatures to the inspection. Outer hull repairs are complete. Turret upgrades are complete. Just need to take on our new ordnance, replenish the ship and wait for the rest of the crew to arrive.
“Here you go, Bob. I think everything looks good. Please tell your men we appreciate all the hard work on this. We brought you a beat-up ship, and you guys got her repaired and ready for battle in under thirteen months. Quite an accomplishment,” Hunt said with satisfaction as he handed the inspector his tablet back. The electronic forms would be sent to their headquarters, where they’d be forwarded on to Space Command for final payment.
“Just keep those bastards away from us, Captain. We’ve all worked too hard these last fifty years to build a piece of heaven out here in the stars. I’d hate to see what we worked for all lost to some hostile alien race,” the man said somberly.
The shuttle then returned to the Rook and docked. The pilot expertly guided them to the hangar bay. Once inside, the magnetic landing gear fastened to the floor of the landing bay, holding it in place while the outer doors were closed. Then the bay repressurized, and the shuttle pulled inside the main hangar of the ship with the others. It was a somewhat cumbersome process of transiting shuttles from the inner hangar to the outer launch bays and back. However, it was currently the only way they’d been able to devise to retrieve and launch ships aside from having them attached to the outer hull. The orbital assault ships used that method, but not the conventional warships like the Rook.
*******
Two days later, a transport arrived from Earth, ferrying the last of the crew to the ship. The Rook was fully loaded down with their provisions, weapons, fuel, ammunition, and now the crew. They were ready.
Hunt sat in his office, going over the personnel files of the new officers and enlisted he’d been assigned. Unfortunately, a lot of his original officers had been either promoted or transferred off his ship to take up commands or senior positions on the eight new destroyers.
A total of four destroyers had been finished and would be traveling with the Rook and the Voyager to New Eden. The other four would be out of the shipyard within a month. Those ships would stay in Sol, along with the Rook’s sister ship, the RNS Bishop.
The Bishop was only the second battlecruiser to be built. Space Command had looked at building a small fleet of them, but given the Zodark threat, the Navy was now focusing on building battleships and frigates. Hunt hoped they’d keep building battlecruisers like the Rook and the Bishop; they needed a midsize warship to help fill the gaps, but he wasn’t in charge of procurements or fleet operations, so those decisions were outside of his control.
The one saving grace Hunt had was that they had left him his tactical officer, Commander Fran McKee. Fleet HQ had wanted to promote her to take over as a captain of one of the new destroyers, but he had made the case that he needed at least one senior officer with experien
ce from the last fight. Tactical was going to be the most critical function for this next mission, and it was a position he couldn’t go without. At the same time, he didn’t want to hurt her promotional opportunities in the future, so he finagled it so she’d be dual-hatted as his XO. He’d also made a secret deal with Admiral Bailey for her to take over as the CO for the Rook when he took command of one of the new ships being constructed.
Despite them not having all the raw materials to complete the new battleships, Musk Industries had already started construction on six of them, along with twenty additional destroyers. BlueOrigin had been contracted to build forty new orbital assault troopships along with coming up with the design for a new carrier. Both contracts were daunting jobs, but they had to be completed.
Knocking on the door frame to Hunt’s office, Commander McKee asked, “Penny for your thoughts on the new crew members?” She walked up to his desk and then took a seat at one of the chairs in front of it. The two of them had now worked together for nearly three and a half years. They’d developed an excellent professional relationship.
Hunt shrugged at the question. “I miss our old crew, but I understand the need for the transfers. We need these other ships to have some experienced officers and enlisted as well.”
“I’m more concerned with how it may affect our ability to fight the Rook,” Commander McKee said, putting her own two cents in. “This isn’t like the first time we traveled to New Eden, Captain. On our maiden voyage as a crew, we had six and a half months to run them through constant drills and keep them sharp. Now we’ll be arriving in New Eden in eighteen days whether we’re ready to fight or not.”
Hunt smirked. “Well, then, XO, it’ll be your job to whip them into shape, won’t it?”
She smiled back. “I suppose it will be, sir. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you think we’ll encounter when we arrive in the system?”
Hunt thought about that for a moment. “That’s a good question, Fran. We’ll either arrive in the system and find they beefed it up, or we’ll arrive and see they’re just as unprepared as they were last time.”
She bit her lower lip. “Well, I guess we’ll see in three weeks, won’t we?”
Hunt nodded. “All right, XO, I think it’s time we got this ship underway, don’t you? We need to head over to Earth and pick up the rest of our fleet. They want us to ship out in four days.”
The two of them left his office and headed to the bridge. It took them another twenty minutes to get the ship ready to leave the station. They had to seal the vessel up and disconnect from their berth. Then they had to wait for a tug to help push them away from the station before they could light up their engines.
Two hours later, the Rook was finally a safe enough distance from the orbital station for them to initiate their MPD thrusters. Once they got the engines fired up and ready, they headed toward Earth. At maximum speed, it’d take them six hours to travel the distance. Not too long compared to what it had been even ten years ago. They could use the FLT and arrive in a single minute, but Hunt wanted the extra time for his crew to start gelling and getting a feel for their new home away from home.
As they approached Earth, the sight of the fleet almost took Hunt’s breath away. Over the years, he’d seen the size and number of spacefaring ships continue to increase, but what he saw before him was incredible. The fleet was massive, unlike anything he had seen assembled before. There was the Voyager, the four new destroyer-class ships, three orbital assaulter troopships, and eight heavy transports, courtesy of the TPA. For their part, they were also sending two of their own warships, but these would mostly be held back to protect the heavy transports.
“That’s a hell of a fleet,” Commander McKee exclaimed as she sat at the tactical station.
“Fifteen ships in all—Earth’s first-ever military fleet,” Hunt said more to himself than anyone else. The others on the bridge were just as impressed as he was.
“We’re receiving a message from the Voyager,” announced Lieutenant Molly Branson, his new communications officer. “Admiral Halsey sends her regards and welcomes us to the fleet. She said we’ll be leaving in twenty-four hours.”
“Very well, send our regards. Tell them we’ll be ready,” Hunt replied nonchalantly. He was doing his best to remain calm and stoic. This was a critical moment in human history. They were about to embark upon a campaign to conquer a new planet and establish their first-ever forward military outpost on the outskirts of a galactic empire they knew very little about.
The rest of the day was spent getting the ship ready for their final departure. Crewmen sent out their final messages to their loved ones, checked over equipment one last time, and made sure the ship would be ready to depart when the order came.
The following day, the armada of fifteen ships lined up. They were going to collectively jump to New Eden. It would take them twelve days to reach the planet. Their new FTL system could now travel one light-year per day, a far cry from the time it used to take before their integration of the Sumerian technology.
“Captain, we’re receiving a message from the Voyager. They’re sending over a new time hack. We’re to commence FTL travel in thirty minutes,” announced Lieutenant Branson.
Nodding at the information, Hunt replied, “Very well, acknowledge receipt of the message and time hack. Navigation, plot us a course to New Eden. Helm, shut down the MPD thrusters and begin preparations for FTL travel.”
With his initial set of orders issued, it was now time to wait for what would be an incredible new chapter in human history: the order to invade and capture their first occupied system.
*******
The Rhea System
RNS Rook
“We’re coming out of FTL now, Captain,” Lieutenant Donaldson, the helmsman, called out as the warp bubble around the ship collapsed.
Captain Miles Hunt stood up from his chair as he addressed his bridge crew. “OK, people, it’s go time. Transfer full power to our active sensors. Ping the entire system for any signs of electronic activity. Pay special attention to New Eden and its moons. If there’s a Zodark ship in this system, I want it found. Let’s go Zodark hunting!”
Coms officer Molly Branson got his attention. “Captain, we’re receiving a message from the Voyager,” she said. “Admiral Halsey says they’re moving toward New Eden now. She’s requesting that we advance at maximum speed ahead of the assault fleet and pave the way for them.”
Turning to her, Hunt replied, “Acknowledge the order, and let them know we’re advancing to contact now.” Hunt then turned to his helmsman. “Donaldson, bring us to full speed and head toward New Eden.”
As the ship increased speed, the crew felt a slight vibration as the thrusters reacted to the increase in power. Earth’s most powerful warship raced ahead of the assault force.
For the next thirty minutes, the crew could do little but wait for some of their sensor signals to start feeding them data. Their electronic sensor suite had been fully extended, allowing the ship to soak up as much information as possible from the myriad of electronic pings they were emanating as they approached the planet. If there was a ship or any electronic signatures in the system, they’d find it.
Commander Fran McKee asked the navigation officer a few workstations down from her, “How long until we’re in orbit?”
“At present speed, we’re two hours out,” replied Lieutenant Hightower.
Tim Hightower was one of the original crew from their last venture into this system. He had an excellent working knowledge of where they were going, which was helpful, considering they were fully expecting a fight.
“Captain! We’re getting our first signal returns,” Commander McKee suddenly announced, concern in her voice. “It appears there are two Zodark ships in the system. One is breaking orbit from New Eden, and another was in orbit around one of her moons. They both appear to be heading toward us now.”
The Earth fleet had only been in the system for sixty-eight minutes before th
e Zodarks had detected them. “Very well. Let the war begin,” Captain Hunt said as he clenched his fists.
From the Authors
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