No Way to Start a War (TCOTU, Book 2) (This Corner of the Universe) (4 page)

“I only
hope our careers can survive screw-ups like him and this half-baked squadron. 
He’s right, you know, the frigates are a liability,” Durmont admitted.  He
thought of his promising career and of the doors that could open or forever
close after his time as CortRon 15’s commander.

Moore
stood close to Durmont and smiled encouragingly.  “You’ll do great, Shane.  The
frigates won’t be that bad and your leadership will overcome any mistakes by
Heskan.”

Durmont
rose and turned away from her.  He looked, unseeing, at a blank wall screen. 
“He’s a menace.  He constantly undermines me and takes every opportunity to try
to make me look bad.  I just hope the task group leadership will see it for
what it is.”

Standing
behind Durmont, Moore tenderly slipped her arms around his waist and rested her
chin on his shoulder.  “They will.  How could they not?  Everything he touches
turns to ash.  Frankly, I don’t know how he got command of Kite after Derringer
and Anelace.”

“He
was decorated for Anelace…
and
Derringer, Stephanie,” Durmont lamented. 
“Strangest citation I’ve ever read.”

“His
dad must be an admiral,” Moore theorized.

Durmont
shook his head.  “No, Heskan’s file lists his father as a machinist on Dione
before he died.”  Durmont pointedly ensured that he knew who the parents of
each of his subordinates were.  He believed attention to these types of details
helped maintain the trajectory of his career.

“Then
why would they decorate him after Derringer?” Moore wondered.  “You said he got
banished to a desk job after its return and BPC doesn’t pull a ship out of
service and scatter its crew to the four winds after a successful mission.” 
After a moment of silence, Moore cocked her head slightly and asked, “Do you
know what Derringer was doing anyway?”

“No,
but the rumors are rampant.  That part of Heskan’s record was redacted and the
decoration only mentions them as couriers.”  Still facing away, Durmont brought
his hands to his waist to close around Moore’s.  “You know he’s going to screw
up again.  I can’t let Heskan take me down with him.”

“I’ll
protect you, darling,” Moore cooed.

Durmont turned inside
Moore’s arms and embraced her.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

*  *  *

When
the briefing room door closed behind Heskan and Gary, they both excused their
escorts and walked back to
Bulwark’s
shuttle bay together.

Gary’s
face twisted in rage as she squared her shoulders toward Heskan.  “You weren’t
a DG, Lieutenant!  What could
you
possibly know about combat?” she
mocked as she pointed to the Silver Star ribbon on Heskan’s chest.

“Don’t
let him get to you, Kelly.  We have some more time to get through to him before
there’s cause for alarm,” Heskan offered.

She
snorted and replied, “Well, I don’t mean to be an alarmist but we’re all going
to die if we go into battle with that idiot in charge.”  Gary folded her arms
across her chest and added, “It’s bad enough to be under someone so caustic but
what’s worse is he’s thinking in old school ways and the carriers won’t be
fighting like that.  Look at what fighting according to the book has got the
Republic so far.”  She uncrossed her arms and extended the index finger on her
right hand.  “One, we were annihilated at Anesidora.”  She extended a second
finger.  “Two, our offensive at Carpo was stopped cold.”  A third finger. 
“And, Three, we got pushed out of Themisto.”

“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.”

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 31
lm
(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 .1
c
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 .2
c
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!”

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.

His
datapad flashed with an incoming tasking from Durmont and Heskan began updating
CortRon 15’s role in Exercise Focus Lens.