(TCOTU #2) No Way to Start a War, page 4
“Yeah,” Heskan agreed. “Well, maybe our exercises with the task group will show Durmont the error of his ways. I can’t see Admiral Hayes sitting on his hands if his carriers keep getting crushed because of poor missile defense.”
Gary brought her hands up to her face and then ran her fingers through her hair. “I hope so. God, I hate it when I get this way. Just too much stress lately. Between Durmont’s screaming, Aspis’ systems constantly breaking, and my crew of, like, six people to get everything done, it’s enough to make a girl drown herself in sand soup.”
“I still have no idea how you ate that stuff, Kelly,” Heskan chided.
“The same way you tolerate briefings with Durmont. You drink heavily in between each dose.”
Chapter 4
As Kite neared the Titan tunnel point in the Anthe system, Heskan sat in his command chair and silently relived events six hours past and 31lm (light-minutes) behind him. The squadron had completed Durmont’s exercise with mostly expected results. The CortRon had faced a determined simulated missile attack and, while it was defending itself, was “surprised” by a second attack from a different direction. Durmont’s “inspired” maneuvering from square to staggered square formation allowed the escort squadron to successfully defend the computer-generated capital ships under its protection but it had suffered the loss of Gary’s ship near the end of the exercise. Aspis had fought well but had become overwhelmed during the final maneuvers of the mock combat. The rest of the squadron had emerged unscathed but Heskan thought this was largely because the simulation overestimated their capabilities, the loophole he and Vernay had purposefully exploited. Further, his firsthand experience of the point defense capability of a small ship under an aggressive missile attack gave him grave doubts about any help the frigates might be against real enemies.
“Kite has reached the tunnel point, Captain,” Selvaggio said, shattering the quiet on the bridge.
“Diane,” Heskan said as he brought his thoughts back to the present, “generate the tunnel effect upon receipt of Bulwark’s signal.”
“Aye, sir, we are holding formation,” she replied, quickly wiping sweat from her brow. Station-keeping in a formation was taxing, thankless work.
Heskan saw the message coming through the command channel and spoke before Truesworth could call attention to it. “Jack, put it on screen.”
Durmont’s image appeared and Heskan felt himself cringe involuntarily. I have to do better to mask my dislike for him. It’s not good for the squadron if word gets out how much genuine friction there is between us.
“Attention, CortRon Fifteen, this is your commander. We will dive at fifteen-thirty-three, sharp. Look lively and I want proper station-keeping as we sail in-system toward Titan. Remember, you’re always on parade. Durmont out.”
At precisely 15:33 each of the four ships of CortRon 15 generated the effect permitting them entrance into tunnel space. The ships made their speed .1c and dove into the Type-B tunnel. Through a twist in physics, the squadron both entered and exited the tunnel point simultaneously. As they passed momentarily through t-space and dove out, both carbon and silicon sensory systems balked at normal space reasserting itself.
After the queasiness passed, Truesworth announced, “Captain, we are now in the Titan system. All four ships have completed the dive, sir. The Anthe tunnel point buoy is green and we have clearance to proceed in-system as far as the outer markers.”
Heskan looked at the system plot displayed on the bridge’s main wall screen. “Acknowledged. Diane, stay on station with the flag ship.”
Lieutenant Selvaggio replied, “Aye, sir, follow the leader.”
The system plot swarmed with activity. Titan’s G6V yellow star was very similar to the Terran system’s sun. Two of the six planets orbiting the star were inhabitable with the closer of the two being downright friendly to human life. Past a wide asteroid belt rich in minerals, a third planet’s environment permitted domed cities to exist. Several moons orbiting Titan’s twin gas giants were also suitable for self-contained outposts. Farther out from the planets, Titan hosted eight Type-A tunnel points and four of the precious Type-B tunnel points. All of these factors combined to make Titan the heart of the Brevic Republic’s northern sector and the second most important core system in the entire republic, behind Bree itself.
In addition to the permanent fixtures of the system, Kite’s wall screen displayed several hundred ship beacons, their destinations varying widely by ship type. Freighters transiting the system, local merchants carrying goods between planets, ore extractors moving back and forth near the asteroid belt and dozens of system defense ships policing the traffic lanes in an attempt to maintain order nearly overloaded the system plot with information.
Heskan watched Selvaggio bring Kite up to .2c to begin her journey past two enormous citadel defense fortresses at the Anthe tunnel point and toward Titan’s domed city world, Titan-3. High above that frozen planet orbited the naval shipyards of Titan and the heavy carrier, Avenger. The light carrier, Eagle, was due to dive into Titan in just a few hours, accompanied by the task group’s logistical ships, Supply Squadron 3 (SupRon), and its own escorts, CortRon 8. Though the two squadrons would stay far away from combat, their role of resupplying the task group’s combatants after each engagement made them a critical part of the mission.
The console in Heskan’s chair arm blinked and he began to sort through the coded messages received via the standata swap between his destroyer and the tunnel point’s buoy.
He read the Priority One message first.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Lieutenant Vernay entered the main briefing room cautiously. Every company grade officer knew that good rarely came from being called into a private session with the ship’s captain. She cleared her throat lightly before opening her mouth to speak and then paused briefly before coming to rigid attention. After a smart salute, she stated formally, “Lieutenant Vernay reports as ordered, Captain.”
Heskan quickly returned the salute and waved her off. “Stacy, please be at ease and sit down. This meeting isn’t like that.” What the hell? Does she think she’s in trouble?
Vernay breathed a sigh of relief as Heskan continued, “Stacy, I received this message when we dove into Titan.” He passed his datapad over to Vernay.
He watched her blue eyes quickly scan the message as he summarized it for her. “Kite’s future first officer was killed when the cruiser, Tempest, was lost with all hands eight days ago. Brevic Personnel Center says they won’t be able to give me a replacement until sometime during the middle of our deployment. I searched the personnel available here in Titan and sent this reply to BPC.” He reached across the table and flicked his finger across the datapad’s screen.
Vernay’s expression twisted in confusion. “Sir, why would you want another junior lieutenant with a specialization in weapons?”
“Because the WEPS position is vacant now that you’re my first officer, Stacy.”
Vernay continued, “I mean I can always use the extra manpower but with Ensigns Miller and Fong we might be a little top heav—” Vernay stopped, looked up and gaped at Heskan. “What?”
Heskan laughed. “I think you heard correctly, Stacy. I need you helping me run Kite. Frankly, I told BPC three weeks ago I wanted you for the job but they balked because you were just pinning on full lieutenant.”
“Maybe they’re right, sir.” Doubt uncharacteristically filled her voice as she continued, “I’m not ready for this… am I?”
Heskan placed his hand on her shoulder and met her eyes. “Yes. You are. Think back to Anelace, Stacy. You’ve got a great tactician’s mind, you have the unquestioning loyalty of your subordinates and your captain, and you’re cool under pressure. I know I can trust you to back me up and just as important, to point out when you think I’m making a mistake. You are the best person for this job.”
Vernay stared at the tabletop in silence before uttering, “So much more responsibility…”
“Eight lives, one hundred twenty lives, three hundred fifty lives. Is there really a difference? Do you take your duties less solemnly just because you’re responsible for fewer lives?” Heskan countered. “Stacy, when you received notification of your very first assignment drop back at the academy, what did you do?”
Vernay smiled self-consciously and admitted, “I threw a fit. I hated the idea of going to a big ship and being lost in the shuffle. I wanted something small where I could get on a bridge immediately and make a difference.”
“Do you still want those things?” Heskan asked.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Vernay’s eyebrows arched up in realization. “Hey, this means I get to move into the first officer’s quarters, doesn’t it?” She openly grinned. “I get my own shower!”
Chapter 5
Heskan rushed down the hallway of Kite’s third deck, toward his quarters. The ship had been orbiting Titan-3 with Task Group 3.1 for nearly two weeks. What began as a two-day layover in the Titan system had turned into an endless cycle of preparations to leave followed by cancellations and new orders to hold orbit. The group had prepared to escape the core system each of the last ten days but had been told to wait. The delays seemed inexplicable as all ships but the frigates were present and accounted for and the situation on the war’s western front was becoming increasingly dire. The Hollaran Commonwealth had tenuous control over the majority of the disputed region between it and the Brevic Republic and had even captured certain, minor Brevic systems bordering the zone. Further system losses were only prevented by the Commonwealth’s failure to commit a known task force the Brevic military was unable to locate. The missing Hollaran task force bothered Heskan greatly but he was also thankful for its apparent inaction. With the way things are going, if the Hollies used that task force, we wouldn’t have to move our ships because we could very well end up having to defend Titan. Heskan knew this was an exaggeration, but the danger to the systems along the western border was very real.
The postponements to leave Titan were not derived from waiting on the frigates or from the Buckler class destroyers suffering from an especially cruel “teething” process. Both frigates were scheduled to join the task group near the front and the Buckler class destroyers’ drives were fully operational. Instead, the carriers’ fighters and fighter pilots, or rather the lack of them, caused the delay. The Brevic shipyards had done a marvelous job pushing through the heavy and light carrier construction; however, the fighter assembly plants and pilot training facilities at New London were struggling to meet the new timetables. Between providing for the needs of the newly engaged carriers in Second Fleet and the pilot training bases at New London, demand had easily outpaced supply.
“What good are my carriers if we have no fighters on deck or pilots to fly them?” Admiral Hayes had raged in a communique to Third Fleet Headquarters that had been surreptitiously leaked and was circulating the back channels of the entire group. Task Group 3.1’s commander had been in such a foul mood lately that Heskan was grateful the daily status meeting he was rushing to now was virtual rather than face-to-face. At least this way, I can turn down Hayes’ volume, he thought wryly. Two days ago, the admiral had torn into Avenger’s Commander, Aviation Group (CAG) for not being at New London, pushing for their allotment of fighters and pilots. Barely a day ago, Hayes had brutalized the supply squadron commander for not filing a petition for official inquiry regarding the unacceptable level of support the task group had received. Whose turn in the barrel will it be today? Heskan mused. He considered how fun it would be to watch Durmont wither under the firestorm Admiral Hayes could generate, but realized the lieutenant commander would take it out on his own ship captains after the meeting. It’s yet another failing, Heskan thought. A good commander needs to act as a filter to keep the important information passing through while screening out the regrettable. Sometimes, important people scream unimportant things. You’ve got to learn how to pass the message down the chain without doing any screaming yourself. Heskan understood this was often easier said than done.
After entering his quarters, Heskan logged into the secure comm network. His desk area came equipped with a wall screen, and the view immediately split into dozens of panels to display the faces of squadron commanders and other essential personnel in attendance. Their images were sized in order of importance with Heskan’s own portrait one of the smallest squares displayed. As the vice commander of CortRon 15, he was required to attend these daily meetings but highly encouraged to remain silent. Heskan had logged in early and breathed a small sigh of relief when he found he had beaten Durmont to the meeting. Looking around the screen to see who else was already present, he mentally recited a common military mantra: If you’re early, you’re on time; if you’re on time, you’re late; if you’re late, you’re unacceptable.
Several minutes later, Durmont logged in and Heskan greeted his commander with what he hoped was the proper mixture of enthusiasm and respect. Many more minutes after that, Admiral Hayes logged in and brought the meeting to order.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are finally leaving Titan. At ten-hundred, Task Group Three-One will depart its orbit of Titan Three and make way for the Lysithea tunnel point en route to the Metis system. We’ll sail in standard fleet caravan formation and dive in squadron sequence. None of you need them by now but sailing instructions will be transmitted after the meeting.” He paused as his officers chuckled at his last statement.
Avenger’s CAG, Captain Vincent Hamilton, displayed extraordinary courage by asking, “What about our fighter situation, Admiral?”
Hurricane Hayes had apparently blown himself out as he coolly replied, “I’ve been assured by Vice Admiral Dale that our fighters and pilots will join us at Metis in less than a week.”
Hamilton nodded as Heskan consulted a star chart on his datapad and searched for the Metis system. He knew where Lysithea was; it was an important core system in the western sector. Metis was one Type-A tunnel dive from Lysithea, which would put the group on an apparent course for Sponde, a star system near the disputed region now threatened by one of the Hollaran advances. Heskan glanced at Durmont’s square and saw him looking down, presumably doing the same thing Heskan had done.
“Our orders,” Hayes continued, “are to conduct the defense of the Sponde system. Fleet intelligence believes the missing Hollie task force will be making a push there in an attempt at an eventual run at Lysithea. Obviously, we cannot allow that to happen.”
Rumbles of agreement sounded from every officer. Losing Lysithea would drive a stake through the center of the Republic and while the Hollaran Commonwealth could never hope to maintain a hold over such a strategically vital system, it could destroy everything and everyone in it during its occupation. Even now, there were terrible rumors that the Commonwealth had launched planet-shattering fusion strikes against the two Brevic systems currently behind enemy lines. Despite being mere border systems, the habitable planets hosted tens of millions of Brevic citizens. The potential loss of life on those planets was unthinkable. If the enemy has indeed “sanitized” those systems, will Bree retaliate in kind if given the chance, Heskan asked himself. He shuddered at the thought. Surely even the Hollies haven’t opened that Pandora’s Box.
“Once we receive our fighter wing, we’re going to immediately initiate Battle Exercise Focus Lens. Given our new information, I want carrier and squadron commanders to update and present their exercise operations plan to me today at fourteen-hundred,” the grey-haired admiral ordered. He paused and looked around his own wall screen at his commanders. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re finally being allowed to enter the fight. I know all of you have felt like your hands have been tied, but our turn is coming. We’re going to practice a lot for it over the next weeks… and I mean a lot.” Hayes stabbed at his conference table with his finger. “And we’re all going to be tired of exercises before we’re through but make sure you keep your people focused and on point. Remember, the more we sweat in peace, the less we’ll bleed in war.”
The brief meeting adjourned, and Heskan waited several minutes to ensure Durmont, who was in discussion with the commander of CortRon 8, did not need him. When Heskan finally logged out, he downloaded the meeting transcript to his datapad and then flashed it over to Lieutenant Vernay. He then copied the relevant portions to his “Captain’s Notes” page, which was accessible to the entire crew. With the crew growing to over two hundred now, Heskan wanted to ensure there was a simple way to pass information quickly and efficiently to them. He still had staff meetings and properly used the chain of command to push specific information downward, but he also wanted the general information, like sailing orders and the inspirational words from higher leadership, to go out as quickly as possible. He believed there was no point in playing “I’ve got a secret” with information and the quicker it was disseminated the better.
The update published, Heskan leaned back and considered Kite’s readiness. The ship had two hundred thirty-one crewmembers out of the three hundred fifty-one needed to fill the official complement. BPC had promised fifty to seventy-five more, but Kite would be understaffed when it dove to Sponde. The only full sections on the ship were Lieutenant Commander Ivan Thomas’ medical section and Kite’s marine contingent, headed by Second Lieutenant Jaime Garcia. Kite’s remaining sections – Navigation, Engineering, Weapons, Sensors, and Operations – would all enter combat shorthanded. Heskan had asked for daily updates from his section commanders on their readiness and plans to adapt to and overcome the manpower crisis. He also knew, behind the scenes, Vernay was coaxing each section head to innovate contingency plans designed to allow Kite to operate at full combat efficiency despite the empty stations. Stacy is already proving to be worth her weight in gold, Heskan thought. Actually, considering her size, she’s worth more than that.
