by Max Jager
"I apologize for being late." Darnelle's voice was surprised and unsure.
"You're not late," said Aaron rising. "Eva here was just early. She frets over the health of whatever commanding officer she happens to serve with. The first captain we ever served under was in poor health and ended up dying of a heart attack mid deployment. Ever since then she has kept an eagle eye on the health of her captains."
Darnelle smiled. "Well, at least someone is worried for the health of the captain."
"Indeed."
The hatch opened again, this time to admit Coren and Erik, chatting amiably about the new missiles. Within the next few minutes the compartment filled with the rest of the officers, milling about and chatting. Eventually Aaron called the evening to order. "If everyone could please find their seats, we'll begin dinner shortly"
When the group was all seated, Jennifer appeared as if by magic. "Your menu for tonight is a three course meal. We will start with a spinach salad, served with candied pecans, orange bits, and a raspberry vinaigrette. Our main will be a lemon pepper pork roast, served with roast potatoes and vegetables with a gravy. And finally for dessert we will serve a chocolate hazelnut mousse with raspberry sauce. Tea and coffee will be served with dessert. Enjoy."
With that, she and the petty-officers she had recruited to help serve tonight set to serving the salads. Conversation resumed and a pleasant meal passed. As the meal was ending, Aaron looked to his right and nodded at the midshipwoman who was sitting there. She rose and called attention to herself.
Speaking in a clear voice she said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you His Imperial Majesty Richard Alexander XII. To the Emperor!"
The assembled officers rose and echoed, "The Emperor!"
As they all sat, Aaron looked around the table. Some of the faces were brand new to him, others were completely familiar. All eyes were on him and at length, he began to speak. "Well, ladies and gentlemen as you all know, we have been given the monumental task of working up a new ship, giving detail to tactical doctrine, and defining what our role in this war will be. We are designed for long deployments, our magazines are deep , our fuel store is vast, and our supplies will be extensive. Regardless of what kind of mission we undertake, we will often be operating alone or with little in the way of support. Current tactical doctrine for battle cruisers calls for us to operate alone or in squadrons of 5 with consorts of 6 light cruisers and 10 destroyers. We will be given the opportunity to re-examine this doctrine in light of what the new technologies and weapons make us capable of. Operational flexibility will be our watchword as we go through this process. What I want to get out of tonight is a feeling for how your departments will operate as groups. We already know how the hardware should perform, but we need to understand the crew as well, their habits and behaviour. War is a vicious and deadly business. In the vast oceans of space there are all kinds of fish. It is the crew that makes the effective fighting ship and I mean to make us the toughest, meanest shark that ever did sail the deep darks of space. So, let's be about it people."
–
Surgeon Commander Eva Chandler leaned against the hatch of Beth Darnelle's quarters, glancing around the carefully crafted living space of a woman who had had time to create a particular image, one of casual affluence and confidence. It was a comfortable space, despite the usual Spartan conditions.
"You wanted to see me?" Eva's voice was tired, but amused.
"I did, I wanted to hear what you thought of tonight's little soiree." Darnelle said, her voice curious and interested.
"Aaron is just doing what he does. He needs them to work together. One way of doing that is focussing them on a goal, giving them something to work for. It's his way of getting the best out of them." Eva's response was slightly guarded, unsure of where Darnelle was going with this. "He uses his force of personality to do that."
There was bitterness in Darnelle's voice as she spoke. "It's quite something to watch him sway them isn't it?"
"Sway them? I don't know that that's how I would put it. It makes it sound like he is manipulating them or taking advantage of them. I think he is simply putting them at their ease. Making them feel comfortable, beginning the process of bringing them together as a team. Encouraging esprit de corps." Eva's responded carefully. "He's doing his job as captain."
"He can't possibly be as good as his reputation. Oh, he must have some skill, or else he never would have made it as far as he has. But equally, he can't be as good as they say or else he wouldn't need a ship at all! You've served with him before, how good is he really?"
"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but he is almost as good as his reputation. Oh, I doubt he could take a destroyer against a dreadnought and win, but I also don't think there are many tacticians and strategists to match him in the navy at the moment. I've never seen anyone fight a ship as well as him or command the loyalty of a crew as thoroughly." Eva's voice became gentle almost a whisper. "He's good Beth, as good as they come."
"When did you first serve with him?"
"We served together on our snotty cruise. We were at the academy together, but that wasn't when we met. I've known Aaron longer than I've known anyone else, save Coren and Erik. We all grew up together. Our parents were good friends. I've known him for as long as I can remember and while he was a royal pain as a teenager and unbearable as a cadet and then a snotty, once he had the ego beaten out of him and the discipline beaten in, he quickly became one of the best officers I have ever had the pleasure of serving with. I count him my captain, brother, and friend. You are good enough for this command. No one questions that. I'm sorry you were passed over in favour of him. But I am not sad that he is back in the navy or that the navy saw fit to give him this command. I think that he is the best man for this job."
"Is he really though? He spent the last six months out of the saddle. He was, by all accounts, an emotional wreck, driven to perfection following the death of his father and fiancé. How can we be sure he's solid again?" Darnelle sounded desperate now, as though she needed someone to be on her side.
"He was a wreck," she said, compassion permeating every word. "Both Victoria and Ian meant a lot to him and losing them both was taxing. It took him a long time to get over it and he did bury himself in his work initially, but then his basic, stable nature took over again. He was back to being reliable, dependable and reasonable about six months after losing them. He was still grieving, and still is for that matter, but is now in functional and healthy grief. If he doesn't stop soon, I will begin to worry, but for now he is well within the norm."
"But you don't think it will affect his ability to command?" Darnelle seemed to looking for something.
"No, I don't. Even when he was a wreck, he was never reckless. If anything he was more careful than normal, obsessively checking everything and micromanaging his poor tactical section to insanity. He'll be fine."
"Then why did he leave the service if not for compassionate leave for grief?"
"There was nearly three years in the interim. It would have been a little late for that sort of leave. So no, it wasn't compassionate leave, or at least not for that. It was sort of compassionate leave; his mother is sick. Dying some say. The doctors don't know what's wrong and she just keeps getting weaker. She said wanted Aaron there to take care of her, so he went." Here, Eva paused and gave Darnelle a bemused smile. "In reality what she wanted was for Aaron to take more seriously his responsibilities as Marquis Eagles Reach and start looking for a brood mare. He was less than pleased when he found out. Refused to speak to her for a week. Eventually his compassion for her got the better of him and he relented. He went to the appointments she made but only engaged in the lightest possible conversation. And made sure he never said anything that could be misconstrued as interest."
"You said she was sick, what happens if she dies?"
"Honestly, I don't know how he will react. She has been dying for years, I think he has had time to come to terms with the fact that she will die. He's resigne
d himself. He'll probably go home for the funeral if possible, but I don't think it will devastate him the way the loss of Ian and Victoria did."
"Is he not as close to her?"
"Never. His father was always the more practical of his parents. While his parents loved one another deeply, they were very different people. His mother is more typical of the society we come from. She's sees her wealth and power as one of the automatic benefits of her birth, though with a much stronger sense of noblesse oblige than most." She became reminiscent. "His father, on the other hand, was not afraid to get his hands covered in grease as a part of running his business. Despite the age and wealth of the family, they have always been practical sorts, involved not only in the business, but also with the people who work for them. Henry, the family majordomo was always more of an uncle than a servant in the family. It is that half of the family that Aaron identifies with."
"So what you're saying is that Aaron is everything that is right with the system, despite his mother's machinations. That he is worthy of the command that has been given to him, worthy of the respect that command demands and that I should get behind him and push?"
"Pretty much."
"I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I can stand aside like that. I deserve this command. It should have been mine. I spent years working for it. I have been involved in the development of this ship from when it was still an idea on paper to finishing of the first prototype. I have invested so much into reaching it, and then to have it just... stripped away..." Her voice was hurt and desperate. "How can I stand aside and help someone else take what I want?"
"I don't know. What they have asked you to do is hard thing. I don't know why they insisted on this ridiculous set up. But we have to make the most of it. We have to rise above the difficulty. Because if we don't, Aaron is right, we are going to get ourselves killed. The crew makes the ship, and we need to make this the meanest, nastiest ship in space and in order to do that, we need to be united. God help us if we're not."
Chapter 5
Chapter FiveArthur sat in the command chair as the bridge about him buzzed with activity. There was an edge of excitement and energy which crackled through the air as the officers and ratings went about the business of preparing the vessel for its official launch. Within the next fifteen minutes, Mission would slip for the first time out into the vastness of space from the protective embrace of the construction cradle under her own power. Reports of readiness were coming in from all over the ship as station after station came to life, some for the first time in concert with the ship as whole. At last, when the last light on the helm blinked green, the Senior Boatswain's Mate, one Bosun Jonas McBeal, turned to where Aaron sat and spoke with a clear, deep voice.
"All stations report ready for your orders, sir. We are ready to be under way."
"Understood, Bosun, thank you. Well ladies and gentlemen, lets get this show on the road." Aaron's boyish grin nearly robbed the occasion of its seriousness. "Lieutenant Commander Barden, at your earliest convenience, would you provide me with a ship wide channel?"
"Ship wide channel, aye, Skipper. Channel ready, sir!" Barden's crisp response was a mere formality as his hand had been hovering over the switch for more than five minutes since the last of those under his watch had reported ready.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of His Imperial Majesty's Warship Mission,this is the captain speaking. We are now ready to be under way. Please stand by for thrusters. Congratulations people, we're ready to fly." Aaron nodded to Barden, who flipped the switch to kill the link. Their departure had been delayed by some problem with the second fusion plant. An unexpected fluctuation in the containment field of the mini sun which provided power to the ship had meant another week in the dock, and put them solidly behind schedule. It had been a blessing however. It had given Aaron time to get to know the crew, how they worked, what the problem areas would be and what they were good at. He had been able to forge an esprit de corps among them and pushed them to become better and to know their equipment better. It had also given him the opportunity to get to know his officers, to see them interact with one another.
"Helm, are we ready?"
"Aye, aye skipper."
"Emily, get ready to release the umbilicals." Turning to the communications station, Aaron addressed Lieutenant Commander Barden. "Jonas, would you mind raising Anvil Central Control for me?"
"I don't know, Skipper. That may be awfully difficult." Lieutenant Commander Barden's wry sense of humour had kept most of the officers smiling over the last week. "Raising Anvil Central Control, aye sir."
"Anvil Central Control, this is Captain Hawthrone of Mission, we are ready to put out into the wide world. Do we have permission to release the umbilicals?"
"Mission, this is Control, you have permission to release the umbilicals. And Captain Hawthrone? Good hunting."
"Thank you, Control. Mission clear. All right, Emily, you heard the man. Let fly with the umbilicals."
"Releasing umbilicals, aye Skipper. Umbilicals clear. We are ready to depart."
"Helm, take us to nine gravities, dead ahead. Once clear runs us up to three hundred."
"One hundredth military power, dead ahead, aye, sir."
And with that, Mission slipped from the construction cradle which had given her birth and sailed into the vast oceans of space for the first time under her own power. Her silver-white paint gleamed as the light of the nearby sun hit her paint for the first time. She glided silently through the deep void with a grace most other newborns lack and stalked out into the depths, predatory and ready.
As she moved away from the station, she began to pick up speed. At last she reached a point far enough away, her acceleration suddenly multiplied, and she shot away, smoothly sailing into the blackness of space.
"Commander Kim, plot us a course for the proving ground on the far side of the asteroid belt at your earliest convenience."
"Course plotted, Skipper."
"At your leisure, Kim."
"Aye, aye, sir. Helm, come to bearing 35, up angle 12 degrees and take us up to 450 gravities."
The helmsmen responded aloud, as regulation required to ensure correct understanding of verbal commands. "Bearing 35, up angle 12 degrees at 450 gravities, aye, sir."
Aaron sat silent for a moment and then spoke. "Belay the 450 gravities helm, let's stretch our legs a bit, run us all the way up to 800. It'll substantially cut our transit time. And we really should see how she runs."
"Belaying initial acceleration and replacing with 800 gravities, aye, aye, Skipper." The grin on the helmsman's face was evident in his voice. It was rare enough that one got to run a ship to that high of an acceleration, much less that high, still knowing that there were 100 gravities still in reserve. There was a slight tug as the compensators caught up with the new acceleration, but other than that there was no physical feeling of change.
"She runs extremely smooth." Coren said into the silence.
"She does indeed. It'll still take us five hours to get there people. Jon, give me ship wide." Aaron lounged back languidly in his command chair, observing the bridge with a proprietary smile.
"Ship wide, aye sir."
"Mission, this is the Captain. Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are officially away from the yard and moving quickly enough that the yard dogs will never catch us! We'll be arriving at the proving ground in about five hours. And there, we will see just what this bucket of bolts we put together can do. First watch, man your stations, all other watches, dismiss. Hawthrone clear." Aaron nodded at Barden who cut the circuit. "Well, you heard me people, first watch, man your stations, all other watches dismiss."
–
Aaron was lounging behind his desk in the ready room just off the bridge, working his way through final tactical reports from the front when the chime sounded to let him know there was someone at the door. Looking up, Aaron spoke, "Come in."
The hatch slid open to admit Lieutenant Evelyn Cameron, who walked and came to attention
as the hatch slid closed behind her. "The XO's compliments, my Lord, we're about to reach the proving grounds, and she thought you might like to be present to speak to Admiral Badim, sir."
"Thank you Lieutenant, but if you were any more formal you'd hurt yourself." Aaron's smiled at the young woman. "I promise I won't bite your head off if you fail to observe the smallest bit of military and civilian etiquette. I really would prefer to be addressed as Captain to 'my Lord' If you don't mind. While the latter is technically correct, I feel I have more of a right to the former."
"Begging the Captain's pardon, sir, but I feel as though I have to make up for earlier failings." She looked as though she wanted the deck to open up and swallow her whole.
"And what failings might those be Lieutenant?"
"Well, sir, it was really my responsibility to ensure you and Commander Chant had all the appropriate documents at the briefing." Her voice and posture were all earnestness. "You very clearly didn't!"
