Virtues of War (7 page)

Jack walked up to the galley window and peered in to where the cooks were serving up the last of breakfast. On the far bulkhead of the bright, clean space he could see the long window where the crew were served their food, and just to his left was another window through which the chiefs and petty officers were served.

Considering
Kristiansand
had a total complement of eighty-five souls, it seemed overkill to have three separate social and eating areas. Four, when you considered that the captain always dined by herself. Apparently this practice was steeped in a thousand years of naval tradition, but Jack just didn’t see the sense of it.

He waved in a friendly way to catch the attention of one of the cooks.

“Morning, sir,” the man said. “Cutting it pretty close, even for you, this morning.”

Jack smiled. “I just want to make sure everyone’s properly fed before I chow down. You know how much I like to eat.”

“That I do. The usual, sir?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Within moments Jack was handed a plate piled high with bacon, sausage, eggs, and French toast dripping in syrup. His stomach grumbled as he took in the blissful aroma and made his way back to the dining table. Most of the officers had already finished, but he still had the supply officer for company.

Lieutenant Carmen Hathaway was one of the nicer people on board. Despite being a lot older than Jack—he guessed she was probably late thirties—they seemed to have a lot in common, particularly their amusement at the follies of line officers. She had spent most of her career in the Research division of Support, and had apparently been encouraged to cross-train into Logistics to help her career along.

Carmen didn’t strike Jack as a woman hell-bent on climbing the Astral ladder, but he admitted privately that maybe when he got to her age he might be hungry for a promotion, too.

She was a very slender woman, with small features and a pale complexion. Her graying, reddish-blonde hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail and her eyes were bright as she glanced up at the chronometer on the bulkhead.

“I think this is a new record, Jack. You know, I’m not going to keep my cooks on the line just to wait for you.”

He knew that her words were nothing more than gentle needling. It seemed to be how almost everyone on board spoke to him.

“I have it down to an exact science,” he protested. “They’ll never have to work an extra second on my behalf.”

“I’m more worried that, with the work day starting at 0800 and all, you might not have the chance to properly enjoy your morning feast.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have a patrol today. Stripes is going up at 1600, but otherwise we’re just on standby. Trust me, I’ve got plenty of time.”

The handset on the bulkhead buzzed, and as Carmen reached to answer it Jack tucked into his breakfast. He listened idly even as he shoveled food into his mouth.

“Wardroom, supply officer… And good morning to you.” Carmen’s eyes turned back to Jack. “Yes, as a matter of fact he’s right here.” A smile spread across her features. “We’ll be right there.”

She downed the last of her tea.

“I hope you don’t get spacesick with a stomach that full.”

He sighed, dropping his utensils to the plate.

“Are they turning off the gravity again?”

“No, but unless your Hawk has been fitted with AG, you’re in for quite a few hours of floating.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have a patrol today.”

“Well, we have a little mission for you.”

“What? What sort of mission?”

“We’ll just have to go to the bridge to find out.”

“When?” He took another mouthful.

“Now.” She glanced at his plate. “So you better inhale that pile, because I don’t want to see wastage.”

Jack took a gulp of water and shoveled the remainder of his eggs into his mouth. As he rose to clear his plate he took the sausages in hand, and chewed them down quickly as he followed Carmen into the passageway and forward.

He was still licking his fingers clean as they stepped through the door into
Kristiansand
’s command center.

The bridge never ceased to amaze him. A perfect sphere ten meters in diameter, its entire inner surface was an exact projection of the view of space outside the ship. The crew was stationed on a transparent platform that cut the sphere in half at the equator, their consoles small and dim so as not to impede the overall view. Stepping onto the bridge was like stepping into outer space, and if it was allowed Jack would have loved to spend hours just hanging out here.

He followed Carmen carefully through the dimly lit space, weaving past consoles dedicated to ASW, fighting the odd sensation of the abyss beneath him. The bridge team members were positioned at their consoles in a circular pattern around the central command chair, the personal 3-D displays casting a ghostly light on the intent faces of the operators.

Anti-vessel warfare, or AVW, and anti-attack warfare, AAW, each had their fiefdoms around the rest of the circle, and in the normal watch routine
Kristiansand
’s three warfare directors took the general duty of officer of the watch. The OOW usually sat in one of the two raised chairs at the center of the bridge, where he could tie the visual information on the sphere’s surface to the details being supplied by his three warfare teams.

Right now the OOW was Lieutenant Makatiani, who also happened to be the ASW director. He wasn’t seated in his chair, and although it was difficult to tell in the darkness, Jack thought he saw the commanding officer and the executive officer on the bridge, as well.

Jack forced himself to not stop at one of the ASW consoles to see how the tracking of his mystery ship was going. He stayed with Carmen as she greeted Makatiani, who greeted her with a nod, then stepped back to let her view the captain and XO.

Jack didn’t cross paths with Commander Kristine Avernell very often, but he knew to keep his mouth shut in her presence. She was a short, somewhat plump woman whom Jack had never seen lose her temper, but who carried herself with such an air of unshakeable authority that she never needed to. Her large eyes revealed a keen interest in everything around her, while her weathered face and graying brown hair hinted at years of experience in space.

He reckoned she was even older than his mom, and probably as strict. She was definitely an enigma, but as the master of this vessel a certain mystique seemed appropriate.

Lieutenant Sean Duncan, however, was no mystery at all. The XO was a charismatic figure fifteen years younger than the captain. Ethan had told Jack early in the deployment that Duncan was tipped to get his own ship soon, and was apparently one of the rising stars in the Fleet.

The captain spoke first.

“Morning, SupplyO. Morning, Mr. Mallory. We’ve had to change our plans a little. This mystery ship is proving tough to track, and I doubt we’d find her again if we broke off to rendezvous with
Normandy
, as scheduled.”

Jack was pleased that his mystery ship was such a high priority for
Kristiansand
, although he was a little disappointed that the captain didn’t give him credit for finding it.

“SupplyO,” Duncan said, “my understanding is that the medical supplies we’re delivering to Cerberus are fully contained in four standard, sealed crates.”

Carmen nodded. “That’s right. It’s all medicine, so it packs down well. I’d hoped to get some blankets and bandages from
Normandy
, but that’s extra to what was promised to the Cerberan government.”

“Four crates will fit into a single Hawk, won’t they?”

No one answered for a moment. Then Jack realized that the question had been directed at him. Four crates? He had no idea how big four crates were.

Carmen answered quickly. “Yes, they’ll fit. No problem.”

Avernell and Duncan exchanged a glance. The captain nodded.

“Mr. Mallory,” she said, “we’ll be going to launch stations in thirty minutes. You’ll fly the supply officer and the XO to
Normandy
. Lieutenant Hathaway will organize the loading of the humanitarian supplies, and the XO will report to EF Command via line-of-sight comms our tactical situation here. Officer of the watch…”

Makatiani responded to her quiet summons immediately. “Ma’am?”

“Inform
Normandy
that we are remaining on station, and that we are sending one of the Hawks to pick up the supplies and to deliver a full tactical report.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“XO, stress to Command that if we break our tracking of this contact, it will be lost. Either they have to put another ship on tracking duties, or have someone else deliver the supplies.” She revealed the glimmer of a smile. “I recommend someone else deliver the supplies.”

Duncan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Avernell cast her gaze over them all. “That’s all, thank you.”

Duncan immediately stepped down from his chair and headed for the door. Carmen gently brushed past Jack and headed after him. Jack stepped away so that he was no longer in the Captain’s gaze, and stopped.

What just happened? He had to fly to
Normandy
? In thirty minutes? For a long moment he stood in the darkness of the bridge, idly aware of the quiet activity around him.

“Jack.” A firm hand pressed down on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Makatiani next to him. The OOW led him to the nearest 3-D tactical display. It was zoomed out to show the majority of the inner Sirian solar system. He pointed at the display.

“We’re here, straddling the Cerberan orbit at Z-plus forty million.
Normandy
is here, inside the Argusan orbit at Z-plus two hundred million.”

Jack stared at the display. “That’s over a billion kilometers away!”

“And to make it there and back in time for us to make our scheduled delivery to Cerberus, you’ll be balls to the wall the entire way. So make sure your reserve tanks are full.”

“Yeah…” Jack was having real trouble focusing on what to do next—things were happening fast. “But, I still have to get the Hawk ready.”

“Then get your crew going—they know your bird is on standby right now.”

“But…”

Makatiani’s dark features hardened with impatience. “Jack, are you a qualified pilot or not?”

“Yes!”

“Then do your fucking job, and get your bird ready to fly. I don’t have time for this.” The OOW turned away abruptly.

Jack left the bridge, mind racing. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking, but habit steered him straight to the hangar. It was the largest open space in
Kristiansand
, although it looked full right now with both Hawks parked side by side.

The bulkheads were cluttered with a mixture of fire-fighting and mechanical equipment, everything squeezed to the edges of the hangar to make room. The deckhead above supported a network of heavy lifting equipment and the deck was anti-skid to give better grip in case of spills.

One of the birds had panels off as the techs did routine maintenance, and the other was being attended by the ground crew. He approached the crew chief.

“Hey, Chief, I just got word that I have to fly in thirty minutes.”

The petty officer nodded, and didn’t pause in his slow walk around of the Hawk.

“Yes, sir—bridge just called down. It’s actually twenty-two minutes from now. We’re topping up your reserve tanks, getting some food loaded for you and your passengers, and starting flash-up. She’ll be ready for your checks in ten.”

“Great.”

The petty officer finished his walk around and turned to face Jack. “Sir, your flight suit is being prepped and will be ready in five. Looks like you’ll be gone for at least a day, so I suggest you go and pack a change of clothes.”

Jack nodded. He hadn’t thought of that. He left the hangar and headed back for Club Sub. Hopefully he could collect up his stuff without disturbing Ethan or Vijay. But he was getting off the ship for a day or so, and going to one of the huge invasion ships. A change of scenery was always nice, and flying there himself made it that much sweeter.

I
nstruments reported otherwise, but Lieutenant Charity Brisebois was sure that
Rapier
’s bridge was colder than the rest of the ship.

Breeze never liked to show weakness, but as she pulled the hatch shut behind her and turned to take in the familiar view, she wished again that she had thought to bring along her combat jacket. She almost hoped they would go to a higher state of alert, because then she could live in her cozy, heated spacesuit.

Katja Emmes was in her usual seat, with the full suite of control panels lit up around her. The other three seats were powered down to standby, and the general darkness gave a good view of the stars outside.

“Evening, Katja.”

The OpsO didn’t look up from her display. “Evening.”

Even though the four stations were identical, interchangeable in their functions, the captain’s rule was that each of the four watchkeepers stick to the designated seat. So Breeze pulled herself along the port bulkhead to keep clear of Katja and descend to her own seat. As NavO she had the port seat in the lower, forward row, while as OpsO Katja got the port seat in the upper, aft row.

It was inconvenient and undignified, having to sit practically at Katja’s feet during each turnover.

She unclipped her warbags and hooked the belt to the side of her chair. She flashed up her own control consoles in the full officer of the watch configuration. From standby it only took seconds for Breeze’s displays to come on line, and she carefully scanned the 3-D navigation display and the ship systems display.

At a glance, everything appeared normal. As she always did, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Katja didn’t smile back, the fatigue heavy in her eyes.
Rapier
had been out for five days now—her mission had been extended a day by a boarding they’d finished three hours earlier—and by the time they returned to
Normandy
she would be dangerously close to the seven-day max. This limit was imposed by fuel and supply restrictions, but human endurance had to be factored in, as well.