Scout Force (6 page)

      
“The turret rotates through 360 degrees.
 
It elevates through 175 degrees.
 
You lose a little bit of elevation dead astern because of the engine fairings.
 
To overcome this blind spot, there are guns mounted on the fairings firing dead astern.
 
Anybody trying to run up our exhaust will face a nasty surprise.
 
There are three of these turrets at 120 degrees around the axis of the ship.
 
Unless they are in close and coming in directly at a turret, two turrets can bear on a target at one time.
 
In the case where a target is coming in directly on a turret, however, the ship will automatically roll to bring two turrets to bear.
 
In addition to these, we also have three forward firing category III plasma cannons.
 
These are our big bored and long-range guns.
 
They can fire farther than the particle guns, but don’t do as much damage since shielding technology has improved.
 
Occasionally, you can ionize the shields on an older ship, blinding their sensors.
 
That doesn’t happen much any more.
 
They will probably be changed out for particle cannons on our next refit.”

      
“The hand controls here move the turret.
 
Turn the yoke clockwise to move right, counter clockwise to move left.
 
Twist it up to move the gun up in the turret.
 
Down to move it down.
 
There are firing buttons on both sides of the yoke.
 
As you move the guns up past vertical, the turret will spin to keep your field of vision from inverting.
 
It can be a little disconcerting the first few times you do it.
 
If you are prone to space sickness, it will have you puking until you adapt.
 
You can set it to blank the video until it completes the spin, but most don’t want that.
 
Here, let me set up a demo for you.”

      
Kelly leaned forward to get the feel of the simulator.
 
The screen was concave and gave him about 180 degrees horizontal and 120 degrees vertical.
 
He found the screen to cover just to the edge of his peripheral vision.
 
It was almost like the forward view out of an F-53 cockpit.
 
The yoke fit his hand well and the triggers fell just where his index fingers naturally landed.

      
“Sir, I’m going to give you slow targets so you can get the feel for the turret first, then I’ll speed them up as you get proficient.
 
This should be a snap for a fighter pilot like you.”
 
Chief Pennypacker winked slyly to Chief Watson behind Kelly’s back.

      
Kelly got ready and scanned for the first target to show up.
 
It came in from lower right.
 
An indicator arrow in the center of the screen pointed toward the target.
 
Kelly tracked onto it, fired, and watched it erupt into a fireball.
 
A series of single fighters came at him from all points of the compass and he readily finished them off.
 
Chief Pennypacker increased the frequency of single fighters and still Kelly dealt with them.
 
His training as a fighter pilot came in very handy.
 
Chief Pennypacker then started throwing two at a time at him.
 
It was a little harder, but he still kept them from getting closer than 50 kilometers to the notional ship.
 
Four-ship groups got Ensign Blake sweating.
 
He got most of them, but a few got through to firing range of the ship.
 
At this point the lights came up.

      
Kelly uncoiled from the simulator and said, “Sorry, Chief, I guess I’m going to need some more training.
 
I think I would have caused some holes in the side of the ship by letting those last groups get in to us.”

      
“Sir, that’s okay.
 
You just became our best gunner.
 
You even outshot my best score.
 
Can I get you to help me train our gunners?”

      
“Really?
 
I did that well?
 
I think with a bit more practice with the system, I could have gotten those last two four-ship groups.”

      
“Sir, you were doing so well, I ran the full three turret scenario at you.
 
If the other turrets had been manned, they would have picked off the ones you missed.
 
You did real good.”

      
“Thanks, Chief, I think I need a shower now.”

      
Both chiefs burst into laughter, and Chief Watson led him back out into the hallway.

      
“Come on, sir, let me show you to your office.”

      
The two walked back down the hallway to the anteroom outside LCDR Timmons’ office.
 
Chief Watson walked around the Yeoman’s desk, opened the door in the back of the anteroom, and held it open as Kelly walked past.
 
The office was small, but adequate.
 
There was a desk with built in terminal, a couple of chairs, a wardrobe, and a door to his right.
 
A large window overlooked the shipyard.
 
Kelly saw two large crew bags in one corner.
 
He assumed that was his ship equipment.
 
Chief Watson walked over to the door on the right.
 
He opened the door and said it was the hallway to the command group head.
 
Kelly looked in the head and saw it was equipped with a toilet, sink and shower.

      
Cushy, thought Kelly.
 
He didn’t think he’d be using the shower much, but it was nice to have it there, anyway.
 
He saw three more doors into the hallway and assumed they went into the main anteroom, captain’s and chief’s offices.

      
“That’s about the end of the grand tour.
 
When you and the captain go over to the ship after lunch, you’ll meet more of the crew.
 
I’ll leave you to get settled in.
 
One last thing, sir, I don’t know if you’re aware Armstrong is on a 27 and a half standard hour clock.
 
Be sure to allow for the difference in your schedule.
 
It usually throws off newcomers until they adjust.
 
The yeoman runs the coffee fund for us, keeps track so we pay our share, keeps the pot fresh, and will even bring it to you if you wish.
 
I’ll be just across the anteroom if you need me, sir.”

      
Kelly thanked the chief and looked over his new office.
 
His office on the Bolivar had been a shared desk in his four-man cabin.
 
He looked out over the shipyard at the classes of ships being worked on.
 
He saw at least two Scout-class ships, and wondered which was the Vigilant.
 
As he looked closer, he realized that one of the Scout ships had double gun turrets and the other still had the single gun turrets.
 
The one with the new turrets must be the Vigilant.
 
He also saw three assault landing ships.
 
They were big, clumsy, almost prehistoric looking things, when compared to the Scout-class ships.

      
The Vigilant was black and sleek, almost deadly looking.
 
It was so black it seemed not to reflect any light.
 
Faintly tubular in shape, it looked a little like a triangular bar, but with the corners rounded and tapering slightly toward the front.
 
The turrets were mounted on this rounded corner part.
 
He saw the glass windscreen at the nose of the ship and liked that feature.
 
Fighters were one of the few classes of space-going craft that still had glass in their cockpits.
 
Most other ship designs had foregone the glass viewports on the bridge for sensor arrays feeding internal monitor screens.
 
Kelly liked the ability to use his eyes, as well as the ship’s sensors.
 
As he looked just aft of the bridge, he saw two protrusions on the top and the bottom of the ship’s side facing him.
 
He assumed there was a matching one on the opposite side.
 
Those were the particle cannons.
 
All along the sides of the ship were strange antennae, blisters, and protrusions.
 
Those must be the sensor array.
 
It would take him a while to feel about this ship the way he did about his fighter, but he thought it would grow on him.

      
Remembering what Chief Watson had said about the local time, he checked his watch, which adjusted to local time automatically on worlds with centrally broadcast time.
 
He had over an hour to go before lunch.
 
He logged onto his desktop terminal to check messages.
 
He found copies of his orders assigning him to the Vigilant, his clothing and equipment issue record, orders for six additional duties he’d assumed as the Executive Officer, and an expert turret gunner certificate from Chief Pennypacker.
 
He chuckled inwardly at that.
 
There was an invitation to Admiral Craddock's quarters for evening cocktails on Saturday.
 
He’d have to make sure his new mess dress uniform was squared away for that.
 
At the end of a long list of Base administrative announcements, about things for which he had no use, was a message from Ensign Tammy Nielsen.

      
He opened the message and Ensign Nielsen’s sunny face appeared. “Ensign Blake, I’d like to invite you to a party we are having in the junior officers bar at the O Club on Lunaday.
 
If you haven’t figured it out by now, Armstrong has an eight-day week.
 
The extra day is wedged in between Saturday and Sunday.
 
We call it Looneyday here.
 
Saturday is a workday and the weekend starts on Looneyday.
 
The party starts at 2000 hours.
 
I’d really like you to come.
 
You’ll have fun.
 
We have a pretty good group of junior officers here.
 
I think you’ll fit right in.
 
Dress is very casual.
 
Let me know.
 
Bye!”

      
Well, his social calendar was filling up fast.
 
Drinks with the admiral on Saturday evening and drinks with his peers and a cute blonde on Looneyday.
 
“Sounds like a winner to me.”
 
He took a moment to send a message to Tammy that he would be coming to the party.

      
In the time he had before lunch with the captain, he pulled up the reference documents for all his additional duties, scanned through them, and downloaded them into his pocket terminal.
 
He had a lot to learn.

Chapter Three

      
“Damn, you are a slow eater.
 
Do I have to wait on you all the time?”

      
The captain had a big grin on his face.

      
Kelly was astounded.
 
LCDR Timmons had blasted through his meal while maintaining his end of the conversation during lunch.
 
Blake had barely made a dent in his food.
 
Once again, he had to wolf down a few bites and follow LCDR Timmons out the door.

      
“Come on.
 
Let’s go meet the Vigilant.”

      
Kelly had a hard time keeping up with LCDR Timmons.
 
The captain had a broad stride and a quick pace.
 
Kelly was almost running to keep up.

      
“Keep up, Exec!
 
You’ll have to get used to this pace with me.
 
I’m not in my twenties any more and I need to exercise to keep myself from turning into a butterball, especially as much as I like to eat.
 
We spend a lot of time in space and there is no room for jogging on the Vigilant.
 
Treadmills bore me.
 
So I push myself while planet-side.”

      
They walked along for about a mile to reach the gate to the shipyards.
 
Kelly was breathing heavily by this point.
 
He was only slightly amused to see that LCDR Timmons was, too.
 
At the gate they presented their ID cards to the guard and were admitted.
 
They walked by a row of six warehouses, dodged a few man-lifts moving about, and reached the dock holding the Vigilant.

      
They opened the dock door and stepped in.
 
As formidable looking as the Vigilant had been from the office window, she was immensely more impressive in person.
 
She was matte black, with no shine at all.
 
She looked, no, she
was
deadly.
 
She was 30 meters tall and 100 meters long.
 
The semi-triangular shape was evident from this angle just outward of the forward landing gear.
 
The port turret with the dual particle cannons looked particularly lethal.
 
Kelly could see this ship as home.