by Max Jager
Mission’s Edge
c. Max Jager 2019
The scotch burned as it rolled down his throat. Looking out of his 140th floor apartment window, Aaron Hawthrone let his mind wander as he tried to do anything but think about where he was and why he was there. The young former captain (Senior Grade) took another sip of the Ben Nevis in his glass, staring intently at the air cars below. His light brown hair was cut short, in a style reminiscent of the rank he had just left. His deep set eyes revealed an active and intelligent mind. Just above average height and powerfully built, he projected an aura of personal confidence and composure slightly at odds with his age.
It had only been 6 months since his promotion and the beginning of his terminal leave, but it already felt like years. Though the navy was still stamped indelibly on his soul, he was already beginning to feel the softness of civilian life creep in around the edges. His uptown apartment was messier than he had ever allowed his quarters aboard whatever warship he happened to be on to become. There was a week old paper on the coffee table and a number of books stacked around the room. In the six months since his leave had begun, muscles that he had never allowed to atrophy while in the service had begun to become soft. His shirt, while still regulation white, was not as crisp as it should be, even after an evening party. All of the little things pointed to the recent changes in his life.
His meteoric rise through the ranks of the navy had been cut short by the interruption that was his mother's illness. Not that he blamed her for being sick, but with his brother away on Voran for most of the year, running a small ship building firm, caring for their ailing mother had fallen to him. As the elder, and therefore their fathers favoured, son, Aaron had inherited the economic empire that had been in their family for generations when their father's life had been cut short by a hover car accident three years ago. He was in better position to leave his current employment and spend time taking care of their mother. Not that she was particularly accepting of his help. While she insisted on having one of her sons in attendance, she also insisted that they not reside under the same roof; which was the reason for the apartment in the first place. He would have been just as happy in the house that had been a home for the family of business magnates for generations. What he simply could not fathom was why his mother insisted on having him so close. He could just as easily have been stationed to one of the many orbital stations and been within just as easy reach of his mother, should she need him. She, however, had insisted that he resign his commission so that nothing could distract him or hold him away from the parties and social events that she was adamant that he attend. She seemed bent on ensuring that he meet every single eligible girl of social standing within 20 light years.
He blinked as the chime which signalled someone at the door was asking for admittance. Straightening his shirt, he moved across the room to the entryway and opened the door to reveal a young lieutenant in the crisp white uniform of an admiral's staff.
"Captain Hawthrone? I am Lieutenant Sarah Carlyle from Admiral Dorcas's staff I have orders for you from the Admiralty Office," she said. She handed him the sheets of archaic paper. "You are to report to Admiralty House immediately for an emergency briefing."
"Lieutenant, I don't know if you're aware of this, but I am no longer an active member of the navy. As much as I might miss it, my commission is inactive right now," Aaron smiled at her, trying his best not to seem patronising or high handed.
"I am aware of that sir. A state of emergency has been declared and all inactive commissions less than three years old have been reactivated. Admiral Dorcas will brief you more fully, but what you need to know right now sir is that we are on the brink of a declaration of war. The Crown Prince has been handing out executive orders all evening in order to get the ball rolling, but we expect that the House will vote out a formal declaration some time tomorrow," her reply came smoothly and well rehearsed, as though she had given it before.
"How many other visits do you have to make tonight? Or is that privileged information?"
"You are the last, sir. My instructions are to wait for you and return with you."
Aaron nodded and gestured for her to come into the apartment. She followed him into the main living area looking around with unabashed curiosity.
"Not what you expected?" Aaron asked, hiding a smile.
"If I'm honest, sir, I expected something a little grander, with a few more trophies," she said, slightly unsure of herself.
"I have always preferred simple to grand. Especially where comfort is concerned. Give me a moment to dig out a uniform and we can be on our way. Help yourself to anything you feel like in the fridge, I will be back in a moment."
He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving her alone in the living area. She looked around the room once more and then walked to the window Aaron had been at a moment before. The view was spectacular. The New London skyline was breathtaking at night and from this particular view, it glittered like a jewel collection, different facets catching the light, reflecting rainbows of colour. The city never truly slept, there was always a certain percentage of its citizens and transients who refused to bow to the cycles of the sun. Most of them had no idea what was coming.
"It's a little beguiling isn't it? Almost looks peaceful."
Lieutenant Carlyle spun around to see Aaron had returned, now dressed in an immaculate charcoal uniform. The four pips at his throat glinted with their newness, though the medals on his chest showed how they had been won. The blood red braid of the Monarch's Thanks circled the left shoulder of the jacket. Only a handful of officers twice his age had the right to wear it, most veterans of the last war. Young for his rank, young for his honours but known throughout the fleet as utterly competent, most of the ranking officers had been quietly disapproving when Aaron resigned his commission 6 months ago for personal reasons.
She finally worked up a response. "Yes sir, it is. Are you ready to leave?"
"Let me see if I can't find my security badge first."
"I have one for you, sir," she replied, holding out said badge with a smile. "If you will permit sir, despite the circumstances, it's good to see you back in uniform."
"You may lieutenant. Shall we?"
–
The short ride to Admiralty was passed mostly in silence, Lieutenant Carlyle unsure of what to say and Aaron once more caught up in his thoughts. As they began their final approach to Admiralty House Lieutenant Carlyle finally broke the silence.
"Sir, is it true what they say? That you beat Admiral Andrews in a long term campaign simulation while still in the Academy?"
Aaron had to fight the urge to laugh so as not to make the poor lieutenant even more embarrassed. "I did. Though it wasn't as simple as all that. I didn't know at the time that it was Admiral Andrews I was up against. I was spending time in the simulator, attempting to game out why the Aturans lost Fourth Pegasus. There are a laundry list of classic answers, but none of them ever made much sense to me. I was attempting to recreate the events by re-gaming it live, with me in command of the Aturans. What a lot of students don't know is that what all of us assume are computer opponents are sometimes actually members of the staff, testing some of what they believe to be the better students. In this particular case, Admiral Andrews took over the Percians. I won the encounter using what I thought should have been the strategy of the Aturans. What happened after that, was a challenge to a rematch, anonymously delivered to my door the next day. I won again and that was the beginning. From there, he apparently engaged Admiral Dorcas as a referee and engaged in gaming out as though two of us were the both the fleet commanders and in the bureaus of planning. It began in my third year and continued through my fourth. When they say that I beat him, what they mean is that I had taken the most territor
y before it was brought to an end by my graduation. Neither of us really won, as is the case in most real wars."
As Aaron was speaking, they had arrived at Admiralty house. Stepping out of the air car, Aaron took in his surroundings with the air of one returning home. The smile which crossed his face simply could not be hidden. Despite the late hour, the building was a hive of activity. Couriers rushing to and fro wherever the eye could see. Men and women in uniform moved with purpose and focus. Aaron returned to himself after a moment and began to move forward through the throng followed closely by Lieutenant Carlyle. The entered the building and were immediately challenged by the marine guard on duty.
"My apologies sir, but I will have to see some ID," said the tall, young marine corporal at the reception desk. "This is a restricted area."
"Hey Charlie, this is Captain Aaron Hawthrone, here by order of Admiral Dorcas. Here are copies of his orders," Lieutenant Carlyle said as she smoothly took over the situation and handed the marine copies of the letters she had given Aaron earlier. "He doesn't have ID yet as he has just been reactivated. We have an emergency meeting to be at five minutes ago, so you will have to excuse us."
"These all look to be in order Lieutenant. My compliments Captain, welcome back."
Aaron now followed the Lieutenant further into the building. She moved at a brisk pace, obviously knowing exactly where she was going. They entered a lift and went up 14 floors before stepping out into a reception area. Flashing a smile and a wave in greeting to the receptionist, Lieutenant Carlyle led Aaron through a set of double doors into a small amphitheatre familiar to any captain of His Imperial Majesty's Navy. This was what was commonly called the Hall of Orders because it was here that all deployment orders were given and plans of action were articulated. This was the first stop for any officer about to be deployed, which made it peculiar that Aaron should be summoned here of all places, given that had yet to be assigned to any ship or command. As they entered, Aaron took note of who else was in the room. Most of the commanding officers in the Home Fleet as well as a large number of reserve and recently retired officers, most of whom he recognized on sight. It was like a who's who of retired officers, all the famous names and faces gathered in one place.
Aaron's attention was drawn to the front as an unimpressive looking man in an admiral's uniform began to speak. "As our last member has just joined us, we would like to make a start. I will only be giving this briefing once. I would ask that you keep all questions to the end, at which time both I and all the other officers on hand with salient information will answer questions."
The silence which greeted Fleet Admiral James Dorcas's first words was unsurprising to those who knew him. While physically unimpressive, Dorcas was possessed of an extremely keen mind. He was respected and well liked by the Navy and the politicos who gave them their directives, a rare combination at the best of times. "The short of it is this, our Empire has come under attack by the Orindian Republic. Admiral Dyer will give a preliminary briefing on the situation."
A small, unassuming man, filled with kinetic energy stepped to the podium. "Three weeks ago, they launched a concerted offensive which called for near simultaneous attacks on five of our periphery systems. Arezon is lost along with the entire station less three destroyers. After Admiral Smith gave his last order to scatter, they managed to make it to Faster Than Light speeds before the enemy could close on them. Beta Orionis is lost as well, along with five capital ships, ten cruisers, and eight destroyers. The remaining three capital ships, six cruisers and eight destroyers were heavily damaged. Rear Admiral Constance wisely gave the system up after Vice Admiral Chin was lost with the Alexander. Gamma Orionis is also lost, along with its entire station less two cruisers and four destroyers. They managed to disengage and escape under the command of Captain Badworthy. Horatio and New Memphis we still hold, but at heavy costs in each case. They were the strongest garrisons. The Orindians might have taken Horatio, but for the fact that we were in the middle of cycling the Ninth and Fifteenth Super Dreadnought Squadrons out and so the station was two squadrons up on what it otherwise would have been. Admirals Webster and Verrocio have acquitted themselves very well and have since been reinforced from the fleet base at Draconis Minor. I will not lie to you ladies and gentlemen, the situation is dire. The Orindians have several new ship types we have not seen before and which they appear to have developed entirely in secret, which says bad things about our intelligence operation within their R&D department. Fortunately, we have some tricks of our own up our sleeves which we are reasonably sure we have managed to keep a lid on. Of the new types we saw, they were all extensions of things we have seen from the Orindians before rather than adaptations of our own development. While I fear we don't have time to fully brief you now on the new technologies or classes we have to employ them on, you will receive full briefs as people and time become available."
He was followed by a man who could not have been more of his antithesis if he had tried. Admiral Alexander Andrews was a tall, broad man, with flaming red hair and a loud booming voice. "Listen for you name and assignments. Rear Admiral Jonas Kithian, Dreadnought Division Nineteen; Rear Admiral Badchamin, Battle Cruiser Squadron Sixteen; Commodore Guinevere Marchant..."
Aaron tuned out for a while as he watched the faces of those who were around him. The shock on their faces was evident. No one had actually expected the Orindians to pull the trigger, though they had been posturing for the better part of the last two years. Their argument was that they needed more space into which their republic could expand. Many of the peripheral systems of the Empire were sparsely populated and lightly industrialized while nearly every planet within the Republic had become densely populated over time. They had not been as quick to expand outward and were now severely over populated on the worlds that they controlled. As a result, they maintained in recent years that the Empire should relinquish control of some of their more sparsely populated, resource rich systems to the Republic for the purposes of releasing some of the population tension and redressing resource imbalance which had cropped up. The Empire had, of course politely declined, saying that while they might be sparsely populated now, population dispersion had been fairly constant through the empire and that eventually the Empire would have need of the space on those planets. They had, however, also offered to allow easier immigration to citizens of the Republic into the Empire, provided that the immigrants brought with them marketable skills. The Republic had not so politely accused the Empire of attempting to poach talent. Tensions had escalated from there, including some rather nasty customs incidents. More recently the Republic had made some not so veiled threats of violence. Though the Empire and the Republic had roughly equal populations, the Republic's greater density made manpower intensive industry much more viable. The Empire, by contrast, had a much larger resource base from which to draw and more space in which to do things and consequently also had more intense R&D programs. This meant the Empire had historically enjoyed a slight edge in technology, both war fighting and civilian. This made the Orindians' choice to pull the trigger strangely puzzling as it committed them to a probably long and bloody war with a roughly equivalent power.
Aaron looked up as he heard his name called from the front. Most of the room had emptied, as officers had received their orders and had been dismissed. Looking around Aaron realized that there were only five officers left in unassigned.
"Captain Aaron Hawthrone, HMW Mission; Commander Emily Erstwhile, HMW Mission; Lieutenant Commander Jonas Barden, HMW Mission; Lieutenant Evelyn Cameron, HMW Mission; and Lieutenant James Spindren, HMW Mission. Congratulations, you four are about to serve under one of the best captains in the fleet. As all of you know, there is no currently serving ship on the lists called HMW Mission. That is because she is brand new. Or she will be. You will receive more details tomorrow in a full briefing, but for now, just know that you have all been hand picked for this ship and that says something about your capabilities and what your past Commanding Of
ficers have said about you. We are entrusting this ship to you, don't screw it up," Admiral Andrews finished with a small smile. "You all have a full briefing at 0900 tomorrow morning. You will receive the details from the receptionist outside. You are dismissed."
"Captain Hawthrone, if you could come with me to my office?" Dorcas said as they all began to rise.
Aaron followed the Admiral out of the room with Lieutenant Carlyle trailing behind. They passed through the office and out into the lift. Eventually curiosity won out over Aaron's sense of propriety and he broke the silence.
"What manner of ship is HMW Mission, sir?"
Admiral Dorcas smiled and responded in his slow way, "She is one of those new classes I mentioned earlier. She is in the large range for a battle cruiser and will fill the traditional role of a BC with a few additions. She has a total of 40 broadside missile tubes and 20 heavy energy batteries. Four of them are mounted on the spine of the ship, two on top and two below. Her chase armament uses the four spinal mounts and has six missile tubes on the bow and four on the stern. She has the newest Cherenkov drives and inertial compensators which mean that she can run all the way up 28 times the speed of light in relative space and can accelerate at 900 gravities. So she is quick as can be and can out pace everything heavier than a destroyer. While she can be used in the wall of battle and as a screen, what she has really been developed for is rear area raids and commerce protection. She was developed with this war specifically in mind, so we have developed her weapons with Orindian defensive doctrine in mind. Her countermeasures are as broad spectrum as possible, but we would be fools if we didn't develop with at least the Orindians at the back of mind. She is a beautiful ship, a finely honed sword."
