No Way to Start a War (TCOTU, Book 2) (This Corner of the Universe) (7 page)

“It
was VF Twenty-two’s squadron commander,” Walker replied.  “He was quite upset and
told me that you were a reckless and dangerous sort without any consideration
for safety.”

Gables
winced at the rebuke but Walker continued with a sly smile, “Then he said he
hopes you run on the Hollies in precisely the same fashion.”

“He
clearly wishes me dead.”

Admiral
Hayes was smiling. 
That’s a switch
, Heskan thought as he looked at the
faces of the officers of Task Group 3.1.  The after-exercise debriefing was
wrapping up and, overall, the fleet had done very well.  Once the Avocets had
detected the incoming fighter waves of the Red Force,
Avenger
had
launched her six squadrons, which met them 9
lm
from the fleet.  The Red Force
fighters, carrying cumbersome training anti-ship missiles, had been forced to jettison
their ASMs to defend themselves adequately.  Even with maneuverability parity,
the Red Force possessed only their single GP lasers while the Blue Force
fighters had flown in with training anti-fighter missiles.  The AFM-2 was the
latest iteration of the navy’s sleek, maneuverable dogfighting missile capable
of turning at the incredibly high G’s required to intercept a small and agile
fighter craft.  With overwhelming numbers and their AFMs, the Blue Force lost
just seven Pups while annihilating the entirety of the Red Force fighters.  The
lesson was clear; fighters rigged for an anti-ship strike could not fight their
way past an organized fighter defense.

The
elimination of the missile threat from the Red Force fighters cut CortRon 15’s
job in half but a twist remained.  The computers aboard
Avenger
, which
ran the remaining virtual Red Force fleet, proceeded to conduct a standard
missile attack against the task group from the opposite direction.  After some
tense minutes spent repositioning to defend against the new threat, CortRon 15
acquitted itself very well and stopped the first wave of three hundred twenty
missiles outright.  Heskan had felt the tension on the bridge spike when the
initial number of vampires became apparent, but the calm brought about by
following well-practiced standard procedures reasserted itself quickly as point
defenses were unmasked and targets assigned to each defensive battery.  The second
wave of three hundred fifteen missiles had been neutralized as well, and only
four of the final three hundred sixty missiles of the final wave had evaded
CortRon 15’s defenses.  Electronic countermeasures spoofed one missile and
Avenger’s
own paltry point defenses shot down a second, but the remaining two missiles had
hit
Chariot
.  Exercise computers had estimated that
Chariot
,
while not destroyed, would have been heavily damaged by the twin strikes.  Fleet
leadership considered the loss more than acceptable since the precious capital
ships had been protected and the escort squadron screening them was still
combat effective.

Admiral
Hayes once again commended his commanders.  “Congratulations on a very
successful exercise.  We traded one of our frigates for an enemy dreadnaught, a
heavy cruiser, two light cruisers, two destroyers, and approximately seventy
fighters,” he beamed.  There were laughs at the mention of the fighter kills. 
During the Blue Force pilot debriefing, the claimed tally of enemy fighters
shot down was seventy-three, an impossibility considering only fifty-two
fighters from
Eagle’s
Red Force had sortied.  The difficulty of pilots accurately
estimating their air-to-air kills in a chaotic dogfight was an old story dating
back well before space travel.

Closer
to Heskan,
Kite’s
new weapons officer had done well.  Heskan’s mind
wandered from the debriefing as he noted that while Lieutenant Spencer provided
composed and cool leadership to his gun crews during the exercise, he also had
the annoying habit of announcing successful missile interceptions to the bridge.
 Anyone watching the tactical plot was already aware of that information.  Heskan’s
lingering concern about the exercise was the fleet had not faced as sharp or as
sustained an attack as he thought they might against the Hollarans. 
Three
hundred missiles is a lot but what if we don’t stop the incoming Hollie
fighters and what if they attack in force instead of in piecemeal, different
directions?
 
And why only three missile waves?
  The fact that this
had been the admiral’s exercise partially allayed Heskan’s concern. 
Surely
he knows what he’s doing, right?  Maybe I’m still shell-shocked after Anelace
and I’m overcompensating.

The
admiral was wrapping up.  “We have redeemed ourselves for our sloppiness in
transferring the fighters to the carriers yesterday,” Hayes pointedly looked at
each carrier’s CAG before adding, “and I continue to be impressed with the
tenacity of our escorts.”  Hayes nodded at Lieutenant Commander Durmont.  “Commander,
your skill at maneuvering the escorts around our heavies wasn’t overlooked and
I want you to pass my acclamations to your ship captains.”

Durmont
glowed.  “Thank you, Admiral.  It hasn’t been easy but I’m whipping them into
shape.” He looked toward Heskan with a brilliant smile.

“The
fleet will dive to Sponde in two hours.  Our dive sequence will be the same as
last time.  Spend these four days in tunnel space wisely,” Hayes advised.

The
tunnel to Sponde was a Type-A, meaning the dive would not be instantaneous as
with the earlier Type-B dives.  Although tunnel space had compressed the 9.6
ly
distance between the Metis and Sponde star systems to a mere 9.6
lh
(light-hours), the journey would still take the fleet some ninety-six hours, as
Terran science had yet to break the .1
c
speed barrier in tunnel space. 
During those four days, each ship would be isolated as even groups of ships
diving together sailed in t-space alone.

The
meeting broke but as Heskan and Vernay began to rise to leave
Kite’s
briefing room, Heskan’s datapad beeped impatiently.  Looking down at the
message, Heskan motioned Vernay back to her chair.  “You didn’t think we’d get
off that easy, did you, Stacy?”

Heskan
logged back into the secure net system and saw Durmont’s smiling face on the
room’s wall screen.  “I hope you now understand why I’ve been so hard on the
squadron, Lieutenant.”

“I
can’t argue that the exercise didn’t go well,” Heskan phrased carefully.  To
his left, he heard Vernay snort.

Durmont’s
expression went from smile to scowl at .5
c
as he stared at Vernay.  “Is
something wrong, Lieutenant?”

Vernay’s
face turned a deep red and Heskan’s empathy for his first officer was immediate. 
He began to speak in an attempt to disarm the situation with humor but Vernay
cut him off.

“Yes. 
There is, Commander.”  Vernay’s voice had taken an icy edge but her face was
still red as she spoke.  The petite officer made herself as tall as possible in
her chair.  “I watched a disaster unfold four hours ago as this CortRon nearly
lost a frigate during an overly simple exercise consisting of just a few
missile waves and you have the nerve to ask me if something is wrong?”  She
once again snorted.

Durmont
admonished, “Lieutenant Vernay, I’m not even sure why you’re speaking.”

She
pounded her fist on the table in front of her.  “You asked me a question, Commander. 
Let me answer it.”  She returned his glare as she spoke.  “For weeks I’ve been
sitting here watching, waiting, and eventually praying for the time when the CortRon
would come together.  I’ve watched the verbal sniping by some of your ship
captains against others who brought reasonable concerns to light.”

Durmont
was shaking his head but Vernay would not relent.  “I waited for the moment
when you, sir, would actually listen to the captains who dared disagree with
you instead of stepping all over them like you normally do.”

Durmont
shouted, “Enough!”

Vernay’s
voice matched his volume and intensity.  “And I eventually prayed that
something, anything, would show us, as a squadron, how far we have yet to go. 
Then finally, we have an exercise.  What I hoped would be a ‘real’ exercise—not
that ego-trip joke of an exercise we held back in Anthe.”

“That
is all, Vernay!” Durmont thundered.  “You will be silent or you will be punished!”

Vernay
closed her mouth.  She sighed and said barely above a whisper, “We’re
all
going to be punished, Commander.”  Dread had doused her fire.  She looked down
at the table in front of her despondently and sighed once more as she shook her
head.  Finally, she brought her eyes over to Heskan.  “Sorry, sir.”

The pervading
quiet in the conference room was deafening.

“Stacy,”
Heskan finally broke the silence, “you’re dismissed although I’d like a word
with you when I’m done here.”  Vernay nodded and left the room.

Heskan
watched her leave and then looked toward Durmont who was still composing
himself. 
Commence damage control procedures
, Heskan thought wryly.  “I
hope you now see why she’s such a good first officer.  I never have to worry
about her holding back.”

Durmont
held up his hand while he looked away. 
Well, at least he’s collecting his
thoughts.  Maybe he saw the point Stacy was driving at.  Maybe he’ll take the warning
she gave to heart.

“Lieutenant
Heskan,” Durmont said coldly, “I want that woman’s letter of reprimand in her
service file before we dive to Sponde.  Further, you will forward your
recommendation for her replacement to me in the next hour.  Kite will have a
new first officer before you dive.  Understood?”

Heskan
felt his stomach lurch.  He shook his head as he considered Durmont’s words. 
Well,
Garrett, you always knew it would come to this; you just didn’t think it would
come so quick.

“Yes,
sir, I understand,” Heskan began.  He tried to keep his voice as calm and
rational as possible as he continued, “But, no, sir, I will not.  I happen to
agree with Lieutenant Vernay’s sentiment and cannot, in good conscience,
reprimand her for her assessment.  Additionally, it is the ship captain’s
decision to select his first officer and I see no reason to replace mine.”

Heskan
leaned back in his chair. 
That wasn’t so bad.  Heck, a couple months ago I
would have enjoyed it.  What’s happened to change that?  Have I been too concerned
over harming my career, now that it’s risen from the ashes of Derringer, to
speak truth to power?  What’s the worst he can do?

“Very
well, then,” Durmont said coldly, “I may not be able to replace a ship’s first
officer but I can certainly replace its captain.  Don’t expect to be in command
of Kite once we reach Sponde.”  The wall screen went blank.

Oh
yeah
, Heskan
thought,
he can do that
.

As
Kite
sailed alone in t-space, her weapons officer watched yet another Cerberus
simulation.  The computer display was tracking over seven thousand separate
targets simultaneously when it stuttered once again.  The targets froze as the
screen flickered and then went blank when the system initiated an automatic
reboot.

“Dammit!”
Lieutenant Spencer cursed.  He strode across the compartment and kicked a trash
bin hard enough to bounce it off the opposing wall.  “Why won’t this piece of junk
work?”

Chief
Petty Officer Stone shrugged helplessly.

Spencer
looked at the collection of petty officers in the room as he spoke.  “We lost
Chariot in that exercise and the real deal could be much worse.  We only have
four days in t-space to get Cerberus working.”  He rubbed his temples, the
familiar feeling of the impending headache beginning to assert itself.

“We’re
trying, Lieutenant,” Stone placated, “but we don’t have the type of software
engineers we need to get it functional.  If the BlueWerks people couldn’t get
it to work when they designed it, what chance do we have in the field?”

Spencer
was now rubbing his eyes.  “I know, Chief.  Let’s all take a break.”

As
the chief and most of his petty officers crowded out of the compartment,
Spencer approached Gunner’s Mate Second Class Burton.  “You know, I was happy
working for Admiral Jamison on Titan.  I just had to run his schedule and make
sure his transport was always available.”

Burton
finished removing the side panel to a computer cabinet as Spencer continued,
“Then he says, ‘I’ve got a great assignment for you, Tony.  You’ll be head of
the weapons section on a destroyer, third officer on the ship.’”  Spencer let
out a long sigh.  “‘Why not,’ I think.”

The
PO2 wiped his hands with a rag as he stared at his section leader.

“Then
I find out it’s on Kite and who the captain is.  Did you know he’s lost both
ships he’s commanded?” Spencer asked.

Burton
shook his head.  “I heard Derringer made it back but BPC had to split up the
crew and write off the ship.”

“Whatever,”
Spencer replied.  “His corvette definitely blew up.  And it was just facing
down a couple freighters.  Can you imagine losing that to some piddly cargo
ships?”

“Losing
what to some piddly cargo ships, Lieutenant?”  Vernay’s voice at the
compartment door froze Spencer in place.

He
turned around to face her and casually said, “Oh, we were just talking about
the captain.  There’s tons of stuff floating around about him on the ship.”

Vernay
smiled, looked at Burton and said, “Close the door behind you, Joe.”

Once
the room was empty, Vernay, still smiling, cautioned, “I don’t know what you’ve
heard, Tony, but you’d be well-advised to not contribute to the rumor mill.”

Spencer
tried to smile disarmingly.  “Come on, Stacy, the Derringer is the worst kept
secret since Bree’s ‘surprise’ attack on Surtur in Nine Thirty-one.”  He forced
out a small chuckle.  “I heard he accidentally blew up a whole engineering
compartment.  Crippled the ship.”

Vernay
nodded benignly.  “I’ve heard that one too.”

Spencer
looked past Vernay toward the door, ensuring it was still closed.  “Then, when
he finally got another command, it was just a corvette and he lost that to some
cargo ships.  Honestly, I’m a little worried here.”

Vernay took a step
closer to Spencer and leaned in as if she were about to whisper a state
secret.  “You should be worried, Tony, because if I ever hear that you’re
spreading these rumors about our captain again, I’ll cripple your career faster
than you can say ‘Derringer.’”  Her voice was ice cold but she held the same angelic
smile.  “And if you keep insisting on calling out each and every intercept in
the middle of combat on the bridge again, I’m going to shove that weapons
console so far up your ass that you’ll be wishing Cerberus was a bloodhound so
it could help you find it.”

*  *  *

Among
the fleet, the days in t-space were supposed to be used to recuperate from the
stress of the previous exercise and to steel each ship for its uncertain future. 
For Heskan, the days had been little more than a countdown to the execution of
his career.  He had accepted the disgrace of his imminent loss of command but
was still coming to terms with the feeling that he had failed the crew of
Kite
. 
Although Heskan had no idea where he would be moving, he was certain that
whatever his new job was, it would be on another ship.

When
Heskan had encountered Vernay after his meeting with Durmont, she had been as
unrestrained in her apology as she had been with her anger, and devastated that
she had let Heskan down.  After Heskan admitted that he agreed with her
statements and no punitive action would be forthcoming, she was torn between
the elation of having a respected superior officer support her and the
desolation brought on when Heskan told her that he might be replaced as
Kite’s
captain.  In her four-year career, Vernay had never seen a good officer have
his career destroyed because of a higher-ranking officer’s bruised ego.

Unlike
Vernay, Heskan was not surprised.  He had seen his share of commanders removed
for saying the right thing to the wrong person.  Although he wished it were not
so, politics were a way of life in the military and it only got worse at higher
ranks
.  Good officers are fired all the time by bad ones in the Brevic Navy;
my circumstances aren’t anything special,
Heskan thought with resignation
. 
The best you can do is just hope it doesn’t happen to you. 
He had dreaded
telling Vernay about Durmont’s threat because he knew she would take complete
responsibility for it.  However, the need to prepare her to work with a new
captain superseded the need to protect her feelings.  Heskan did not, however,
inform the crew, as it was customary to make such an announcement only after
receiving an official change of command order. 
Which should be in about one
minute
, Heskan thought as he watched the bridge chronometer’s downward count
to their exit from t-space.

“Captain,”
Lieutenant Selvaggio said, “we’ll generate the tunnel effect in thirty
seconds.”

The chronometer
reached zero and
Kite’s
navigator issued the proper commands to its computers
to activate the destroyer’s tunnel drive.  Heskan’s hands grasped the arms of
his chair as he fought off the nausea that came with transitioning to normal
space.  As the sensation cleared, he saw his crew suffering similarly.

“Bleh,”
Vernay muttered next to him, “you’d think I’d get used to that.”

Selvaggio
typed on her console as the tactical plot updated to display the Sponde system. 
After brief consultation with the star chart, she announced, “Captain, we have
arrived in the Sponde system.  All six CortRon ships have completed the dive,
sir.”  Heskan saw her rock back in her chair.  “The tunnel point buoy is red?”
she questioned.

Truesworth
eyed his sensor console.  “Confirmed red, sir.”

Selvaggio
turned to face Heskan and asked, “Orders, sir?”

Heskan
scanned the tactical plot.  The attack ships of Task Group 2.2 were powering
away from the habitable planet, Pan, on a vector that would take them to the
opposite side of the star system, near the vicinity of the Kale tunnel point.  From
that tunnel point, a single, friendly scout destroyer raced in-system at .22
c
while the defense orbitals around the tunnel point were clearly at battle
stations.  However, there were no signs of Hollaran forces.

“Diane,”
Heskan replied belatedly, “maintain fleet formation.  Stacy, bring us to action
stations.”  Action stations, the second highest alert status on a Brevic ship, would
ensure the vessel could respond quickly to an emergency but would fall just
short of energizing
Kite’s
weapons and defenses. 
The red buoy calls
for some type of response
, Heskan considered,
but with no enemies in
sight, it would be a bit panicky to bring us to battle stations
.

“Chief,”
Heskan addressed Brown, “what do you think?”

Brown
looked at the system plot as he spoke.  “I bet that tin can—” he pointed at the
single destroyer, “—was scoutin’ the Kale system an’ must’ve seen somethin’
worth divin’ back here to report.”  Brown gestured to Task Group 2.2 next.  “Whatever
the news was, it made that battle fleet break orbit from Pan, where they were
supposed to be waitin’ for us, an’ head over to take up a position toward the
tunnel point.”  Brown looked squarely at Heskan.  “The fortress an’ outpost are
at full-on battle stations, so you know they didn’t like the destroyer’s news. 
My thoughts, Capt’n, are someone’s comin’ to dinner.”

“Analysis,
Stacy?” Heskan’s gaze shifted over to Vernay.

Vernay
voiced one of the safest and truest statements uttered in any military.  “I
agree with the chief, Captain.”  With a lite-stylus, she drew a vector line along
Task Group 2.2’s heading on her chair arm console that replicated on the main
wall screen’s tactical plot.  “The battle force’s course will take it as close
as twenty light-minutes from the Kale tunnel point.  That’s pretty much the
textbook range for defense of a star system.”  It had been quickly discovered
during the Federation’s Secession Wars that stationing a defending fleet too
close to a tunnel point yielded all advantage to the enemy.  Not only would the
enemy have his choice of the time of engagement but he would also emerge from
tunnel space with a .1
c
speed advantage.

“Plus,
Captain, the navigation beacons are obviously still active on the battle force
since we can detect them at this range.  That has to mean that we still have a
little time before the Hollies appear,” Vernay deduced.

“That’s
a good point, Capt’n,” Brown agreed.

Heskan
paused as he considered the opinions.  “Good analysis.  Stacy, bring Kite down
from action stations once every section has readied up.  If nothing else, it
was good practice.  I suspect we’ll receive guidance from fleet leadership soon
anyway.”

No
sooner had Heskan finished his sentence than Truesworth declared, “Message from
Bulwark, Captain.”

Heskan
felt his stomach lurch. 
The man is going to give me an ulcer
.  “Put it
up, Jack.”

Lieutenant
Commander Durmont’s face appeared on the front screen.  “Attention, CortRon Fifteen,
this is your commander.  We have orders to move with the carriers toward Task
Group Two-Two.  We will assume standard square formation.  The next time we
defend the carriers, it won’t be from computer phantoms and I won’t settle for
anything less than how we did in Metis.  Lieutenant Heskan, contact me upon
receipt of this message.  Commander Durmont out.”

Vernay cast a concerned
look at her captain as he stood.  “No worries, Stacy,” Heskan offered, trying
to sound confident.  “Lieutenant Vernay, you have the bridge.”  Heskan barely
heard her acknowledgment as he walked off the bridge, wondering if he would
ever be back.

*  *  *

In
his quarters, Heskan connected to the secure net and saw, for once, Durmont was
waiting for him.  “Don’t think I have forgotten about your insubordination,
Lieutenant,” Durmont opened.  “Given the current situation, I may not be able
to replace you today but I promise that you won’t leave Sponde in charge of Kite.”

“I’ve
offered no insubordination, Commander,” Heskan refuted, “and unless the Hollies
are as dumb as their computer counterparts, I’m not sure many of us will leave
this system, ever.”

“Are
you threatening me, Lieutenant?” Durmont questioned.

“Uh,
no.  Once again you’ve missed the point,” Heskan snapped.  “Honestly, Commander,
do you listen even a little to your subordinates or just wait for your turn to
talk again?” 
Okay, maybe now I’m offering some insubordination.

“I
listen to the subordinates who are worth listening to,” Durmont replied angrily. 
“You think it’s easy being the commander of this squadron?  Coping with the
pressure of having screw-ups like you or having worthless ships like those
frigates in it but still being expected by my superiors to turn this squadron
of coal into a diamond?”

Durmont
pointed at Heskan as he sneered.  “Maybe you don’t care about your pitiful career
but I haven’t spent the better part of a decade crossing every ‘t’ and dotting
every ‘i’ only to have the results taken away because my own subordinates are
working against me!”

Are
you crazy?  Is that your problem?
Heskan thought matter-of-factly. 
I should tell him that he’s completely
delusional.
  Instead, Heskan softly said, “All of your ship captains want
you to succeed, sir, because if you succeed, we do too.”

“Then
why are you constantly at odds against me?  I know we didn’t get off to the
best start on Narvi but you’ve always taken the opposite position of mine at
every turn.”  Durmont’s question seemed sincere.

“Commander,
I have disagreed with you but always privately and I’ve always tried to support
you publicly.”  Heskan quoted an old military adage next.  “So long as you’re
my commander, I will carry out your orders as enthusiastically as if they were
my own.”