“That’s what you need to do as a commander,” Jefferson said. “Know who your friends are, and who your enemies are.”
I said, “Good advice, Captain.”
Jefferson nodded and said, “I expect it’s time for you to rejoin your people. I’ll need to stay here on the bridge. That’s where the captain belongs. Agreed?”
I said, “Agreed, Sir.”
Jefferson held up his palm, indicating that I should wait. “Before you go,” he said, “one more thing. Come with me to my berth. I want you to have something.”
Captain Jefferson’s berth was near the bridge. He also had a more formal cabin, somewhat larger, fifty yards aft. What we called his berth was actually a small office, with a narrow bed, and with a lot of electronics. If necessary, Jefferson could run an entire campaign without leaving this compartment. He could control weapons, navigation—everything.
Jefferson had me wait by the hatch while he stepped inside. He pulled open a desk drawer, and reverently removed from it an American flag, folded into the familiar triangle of the tricorn hat worn by the Patriots. All that was visible were white stars and the blue field.
When he returned to the hatchway, Jefferson handed the flag to me, saying, “This is the flag that was placed over my son’s casket when his remains were returned home.”
I asked, “Returned home? What happened?”
“This was during the first attack by the Kerleegans on a United States vessel.”
“The Adirondack?”
“Yes,” Jefferson said. “She was a lone ship, like the Valley Forge. There were eleven Kerleegan ships. Six carriers. Five cruisers.”
For a moment, that struck me as highly strange. That was the same configuration as the Kerleegan task force that engaged us. Then it dawned on me that this may have been the cause of Jefferson’s strange behavior. On some level, he wanted the Valley Forge to avenge his son’s death.
I asked, “What was your son’s name?”
“My wife and I named him Quentin. That was a bad choice. It stemmed from egotism on my part. And my wife couldn’t call me by name without mentioning her dead son’s name at the same time. It was bad. But that was then.”
I said, “Captain Jefferson, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know any of this.”
Jefferson nodded. “Few do. And those who knew at one time have now forgotten. Not me, of course. Not my poor wife.” He laughed softly. “Just as we said, Amundsen—one little horseshoe-nail. That’s us. That’s the Valley Forge. We need to win this battle. We don’t want anyone to say, ever, ‘if only the Valley Forge had been here.’ And they won’t say that, if I have anything to do with it. And to make certain that we’re there at that future battle, when we’re needed, we will prevail today. We need to plant Old Glory in the hallowed ground that is the Valley Forge. We need to close ranks around the ensign, and protect the Forge, whatever may come.”
Carrying the flag, I retraced my steps and arrived back at the fighter bay. I cut through the bay, and soon I was back in the midshipmen’s ready-room.
My mind was alive with thoughts on the complexities of human behavior, and the things that contribute to the waging of battles, and the motivations of those who participate in them.
32
Captain Jefferson and Admiral Farragut
All eight Marines, as well as Lennox and Nash, were in the ready-room when I entered. In my right hand was my M90, and with my left arm I was holding Jefferson’s flag against my stomach.
Lennox gestured toward the flag and asked, “What’s that about?”
I set the flag down on the table, and I briefly summarized what Captain Jefferson had told me regarding his son and the flag.
Lennox said, “Good to have Old Glory to rally around.”
Several of the others made similar comments.
I said, “We can keep her here while we work out our collective future.” The midshipmen’s ready-room had become our headquarters.
Waters said, “In spite of the success out there with Captain Jefferson in destroying those boarding ships, we can assume that boarding the Valley Forge will be the enemy’s next step. I noticed that a lot of the shotguns are gone from the racks. Plenty are still there, but obviously the rest of the crew is ready to repel boarders.”
I said, “Okay, so far, so good.”
Waters said, “Talos, what’s our position with regard to defense systems?”
Talos said, “All sixty of our defensive drones have been destroyed. We still have six observation drones. All of our missile countermeasures are exhausted.”
Waters said, “So, we have a no-go on the drones. What about missiles?”
“We have none.”
“Talos,” I said, “let me try to summarize our situation, and then you’ll tell me whether my summary is accurate.”
Talos said, “Proceed.”
I said, “Boiled down, we have five turrets and six observation drones. And we have a dozen or so operable Banshees, with cannons but with no missiles. Is that about right?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Talos said, “and also many small arms and other weapons—M90s, shotguns, grenades, and so on. From this point on, whatever else you do, make them pay an extortionate price.”
That didn’t sound promising. We started with hundreds of missiles, and we remained behind the eight ball. Now all we had available was modern warfare’s version of squirt guns and peashooters. What could we accomplish with those?
“Got that,” I said. “Tell me, Talos, how are we doing?”
Talos said, “Putting it in simple terms, we have destroyed more of the enemy’s assets than they have destroyed of ours. But they had far more assets to lose. The initial odds against us were forty-eight to one. Now the odds stand at about a hundred-and-thirty to one.”
I said, “Initially, I was figuring twenty-nine to one. Now you’re saying it was originally forty-eight to one.”
Talos said, “The rule of thumb you were applying was something the Navy likes to promote. Makes the enemy seem weaker than they are. Better for morale. But mark my words. If you confine the fighting to the interior of this ship, and if you kill a great many of their soldiers, and continue to do so, at some point they will depart.”
“We better choose the areas that are the most defendable,” I said.
Waters said, “Talos, you can keep us informed on which sections of the ship have an enemy presence, right?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Waters.”
Even though there were eleven of us in the ready-room, few were saying anything. Occasionally someone would make a brief remark or ask a simple question. The replies were terse. Then even those brief exchanges stopped, and all was quiet.
The ready-room had chairs against the bulkheads and at the table. Most of us were seated in those chairs, though at any given moment there were one or two people standing.
The whole situation reminded me of my second year at the Academy. I was a member of the Masqueraders, which is the Academy’s extracurricular theater group. I was in a room with about six others, and we were waiting for our auditions for a play called Atlantic Shore. I was nervous.
Even though the other auditioning midshipmen and I knew each other well, few people said anything, and there were no real conversations. We were all focused on our “sides,” which are basically extracts from the script—and on being, in theater terms, “comfortable, confident, and charismatic.” We had that edginess, that tenseness that is uncomfortable, but which leads to better results.
Waters broke the silence. He asked, “Talos, is Captain Jefferson still on the bridge?”
“Yes,” Talos said, “he is alone there.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He appears to be engaged in a conversation with a portrait of Admiral Farragut.”
I said, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, Ma’am,” Talos said, “it doesn’t.”
Waters said, “I have to go get him. And we’re gonna need to consolidate our forces i
n the stern. Then we can decompress the rest of the ship if we decide to, and not have to worry about rapid decompression. All right, guys, stay afloat.”
I said to Waters, “You’re taking me with you.”
Nash said, “Me, too.”
Waters smiled at Nash and said, “Nash, you’re like Amundsen. Well, not quite. In fact, nowhere near. But still, you’re all right. Let’s go.”
33
Back to the Bridge
The three of us moved out. My mind was racing. Each time we came to a hatch, I wondered whether there were enemy soldiers on the other side. Talos kept telling us there weren’t, but I didn’t believe him entirely.
I was holding my M90 automatic-rifle. It’s a small and light weapon, and that’s why I decided to take it to the bridge. A shotgun would provide more stopping-power, but those are more cumbersome. Also, when fully loaded, the shotguns are two or three times as heavy.
We continued from corridor to compartment to corridor, and we made our way to the bridge.
I didn’t know what to expect there.
A captain who orders his lone ship into action against eleven enemy ships is unusual, to say the least. But there’s nothing unlawful about it—probably.
But a captain who is conversing with a portrait of Admiral Farragut? In the middle of a pitched battle? Draw your own conclusions, but I’d say it’s likely that this was conclusive proof that the man had taken leave of his sanity and was unfit to lead. I braced myself for the likelihood that Captain Jefferson would issue a series of insane orders.
Waters and I entered the bridge, while Nash kept watch at the entrance. Except for Jefferson, the bridge was deserted. It was strange to see the empty chairs, especially those of the captain and the other bridge officers. Even then, the other officers might still be in the brig—though not locked in—if they had not already departed there to repel boarders.
I looked quickly from chair to chair. They definitely gave the place a deserted atmosphere, leaving one with the question, “Who is piloting this thing?” And the answer to that question was, “Nobody.”
Not that it mattered. Even though the Valley Forge was moving at a high velocity relative to the nearest celestial bodies—which were distant, by the way—there was nothing near enough to show us that we were moving at all. We didn’t really need a pilot or navigator. We weren’t close to anything except the enemy.
On one of the rear bulkheads of the bridge were small framed portraits of American naval leaders, namely Captain John Paul Jones, Captain James Lawrence, and Admiral David G. Farragut. Jefferson was standing in front of the portrait of Farragut—who was well known for issuing the order, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” This was during the Battle of Mobile Bay. Those probably weren’t Farragut’s precise words, but those represent the most dramatic version.
So there was Captain Jefferson, conferring with Farragut. Jefferson was saying things like, “I issued your orders, Admiral, but my men refused to carry them out. We would have routed the enemy if my people had simply carried out their orders. If only you were here, Admiral. The men would respect you.” Jefferson seemed completely unaware that we were present, and he was repeating himself.
Waters and I watched this display for about a minute, unsure of how to proceed. Then Jefferson looked over at Waters. Jefferson seemed to recognize him, and he addressed Waters, saying, “Admiral, you’ve come, in my hour of need. God bless you, my loyal friend. You’ll see, we’re in a bit of a fix. But you’ll know what to do.”
I was stunned to realize that Captain Jefferson believed that Lieutenant Waters was Admiral Farragut.
Then Captain Jefferson stared silently at Waters, who unsurprisingly said nothing.
Then Jefferson summarized our position, saying, rather clearly, I thought, given the circumstances, “We’ve been attacked by a force much more numerous than ours, eleven ships to our one. Six are carriers. In strength the enemy force is over one hundred times ours at this point in the battle. We’ve lost all four ventral turrets, all four dorsal turrets, two starboard turrets, and one port turret.”
Waters looked at me briefly, bewildered.
Nash turned around from his position at the entrance to the bridge and stared at me momentarily.
I just stood there, trying to look as military as possible, glad that Jefferson was addressing Waters, and not me.
Jefferson continued, saying, “We’ve expended all of our missiles, as well as all of our missile countermeasures. Our point-defense drones all have been destroyed. We’ve managed to destroy twelve of the enemy’s boarding craft. But now we’re about to be boarded. Combat will be hand to hand. I have done my best, but I have failed. In this, my darkest hour, I ask for your help. Admiral, I’m turning command of the Valley Forge over to you.”
I have to hand it to Waters. He stepped into the breach and became Admiral Farragut.
Waters said, sternly, “No, Captain Jefferson, you have not failed. Never believe anything different. A few of your men failed you. That is all. At your request, I am assuming command of the Valley Forge. I and my subordinates here will escort you to a place where you can rest—where you can sleep. We will wake you when the battle is over. Already I have reports that the tide is turning, due to your leadership. Are you ready to go now?”
Jefferson said, “I am, Admiral. I am indeed. Thank you for your words of encouragement. I will never forget them.”
34
Remorse and Shame
Honestly, I am not an emotional person when it comes to military matters, but I found this entire scene—Nash at the entry, and Waters and me, faced by Captain Jefferson—the most heartbreaking situation I had ever witnessed. There I was with my M90, with enemy soldiers at that moment probably affixing their boarding craft to the Valley Forge, and with Nash likely jumpier than a grasshopper—and yet I was barely able to keep from weeping at the exchange between Waters and the captain whom I had been wasting my energy hating and accusing.
I was ashamed of myself for the things I had been thinking about our unfortunate captain, whom I and the rest of the bridge staff had made no effort to understand, and whom we were ready to desert an hour or two earlier.
Then Captain Jefferson looked at me, and I was petrified regarding what he might say or think.
Jefferson looked back at Waters and said, “But I see you have had help. This is Midshipman Amundsen. Do you know her? She was one of my pupils. She was my brightest student.” He paused and stared upward wistfully, as though he were reliving some pleasant happening. Then he said, “I always was proud of her. Of my entire crew, she is the very best. She alone supported me on the bridge, and moved bravely to prepare the other midshipmen for the fight. And then, listen to me, Amundsen led an attack on enemy boarding craft, in which four enemy vessels were destroyed. I saw and heard it all on my monitors. And after that, she and I led a raid in which eight Kerleegan boarding ships were destroyed. We returned with no casualties on our side.” His voice grew soft, and faded almost to silence. Then, a little louder, he said, slowly and clearly, “I’ll be recommending her for the Navy Cross.”
And in light of that, in spite of all my will to the contrary, tears actually came to my eyes, and I was definitely weeping. I summoned all my strength to stifle it, and I tried not to show what I was going through, but I’m sure I didn’t fool Waters.
I couldn’t help myself. Such undeserved praise was torture. Then I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, resolving to move ahead and put my remorse and shame behind me.
We all said nothing.
Then Waters said, “I’m sure Midshipman Amundsen has earned that medal. We’ll discuss that later. Now we need to go to a place where you can rest.”
And the four of us moved out. As we proceeded through the ship, I wondered whether I might have been better off, had I not gone with Waters to retrieve Captain Jefferson.
We took Jefferson to the berth that Lennox and I had been sharing, and we made him comfortable. At my suggestion
, Waters contacted Gray and Guzman, who had seemed like compassionate men when I found them taking care of Boyle. They met us there with sedatives.
I pulled Guzman into the corridor. I briefly explained my concern that someone might have inflicted this mental condition on Captain Jefferson, and that it might not be simply an abnormality that originated with Jefferson.
Guzman was highly interested, and he asked me various questions about Captain Jefferson’s behavior. I answered those questions as well as I could.
When Waters, Nash, and I left them, Captain Jefferson was sleeping peacefully.
35
Cloaked and Undetectable
From the berth in which we left Captain Jefferson, it was only a few steps to the midshipmen’s ready-room. We entered without ceremony and found the rest of the Marines, as well as Lennox. All were studying a monitor that showed an outline of the Valley Forge, and which indicated, according to Talos’s analysis, the most likely places of entry for enemy boarding parties.
Since the engines and reactors were near the stern, that was an unlikely area for entry. Those facilities were far more heavily armored than most of the ship. Certain other areas—such as launch platforms—were also well armored. These were common-sense places for additional armor, and the Kerleegans didn’t need any spies to give them that information. The image on the screen demonstrated that all of the likely points of entry were forward of the fighter bays.
Talos said, “Attention, all crew. Five Kerleegan boarding craft are now eight minutes out. They are accompanied by twenty fighter craft.”
Lennox said, “Twenty fighters. Not very many.”
I said, “They know we only have five turrets left.”
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