The Earthfleet Saga- Volume One

by Dennis Young

  “Very well, Doctor. Do what you can and let me know if we need blood donors.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Medical out.”

  Trachenberg looked to a small crowd gathering around her; Sciences, Engineering, Tactical, Support…

  “What’s this, Lieutenant Wells?”

  Wells blushed a bit, then looked to the other officers. “Our report, Captain, that’s all.”

  Trachenberg looked to the Chief Engineer Takuda. “Status?”

  “We’re shot up pretty badly, but we can get underway within twelve hours. I’d recommend no faster than one-half sublight, if that.”

  She shifted her gaze to Hans Schrader. “Comm?”

  “Comm is back up. I can raise Burlingame if you’re ready to talk to them, Captain.”

  Trachenberg grinned weakly. “You want me to look like I’ve been on a two-week drunk for Captain Mitchell.”

  “Absolutely, Captain,” replied Wells, grinning as well. Her face turned serious. “Captain, in all honesty, we’re here to say, ‘well done’. Your tactics were brilliant… if not exactly orthodox.”

  Trachenberg coughed a laugh. “Lieutenant, if you knew the multiple connotations that word carries in my family, you’d be shocked.”

  Wells gave a knowing look. “Maybe not, Captain.”

  “Mister Schrader, the word Toks used, bak’nal? What does it mean?”

  “It’s their word for the afterlife, Captain.”

  Trachenberg thought for a moment. “Interesting, they would have such beliefs.”

  “It’s common throughout most intelligent species. We all want to believe in something greater than ourselves.” Schrader gave a sheepish look, but no one spoke, only nodded quietly.

  The officers drifted away with several “thank yous” said softly. Wells stayed for a moment or two, then drew closer to Trachenberg.

  “Yasher koach, Captain.”

  Trachenberg looked up in surprise, wide-eyed. “I… didn’t know…”

  Wells shook her head and smiled. “I’m not what you would consider Jewish, but it’s in my family, generations ago. I’ve done a bit of study for genealogy and history. Fascinating stuff.”

  “Yes,” said Trachenberg, returning the smile. “Yes, it is.”

  “Shalom aleikhem, Captain.”

  “Aleikhem shalom, Lieutenant. And thank you.”

  * * *

  EAS Burlingame…

  Mitchell sat alone in his ready room. The crew was near exhaustion, having been at Standby Alert for more than twenty-four ship hours. The Bridge was currently manned by secondary, and in a couple of cases, tertiary crew, ensigns just learning their posts. He had ordered all senior officers to their quarters for six hour’s rest, Engineering to bed down at their posts, and security to stand half-details, the other half setting cots in corridors. Weapons crews, torpedo bay, and Sickbay were fully manned, but half their complement technically “off-duty”. Mitchell, himself, had not left the Bridge in over eighteen hours.

  The door chime sounded.

  “Come in.”

  First Officer Allard entered, followed by Tyvaos, Chief Engineer Satoshi, Lieutenant Neunada, and Straum, all looking haggard as Mitchell felt.

  “Captain, we have our answer,” said Allard, looking pointedly at Straum.

  Mitchell motioned to chairs around the small briefing table. Satoshi and Neunada stood, the others taking seats.

  “Since you’re all supposed to be on six hour’s rest, give me the summary.”

  Allard poured coffee for he and Straum, then sat. “It wasn’t a weapons malfunction, it was a failed vent valve on one of the Number Two AI’s thrusters. It blew out, releasing gasses that ignited because of a spark. That spark accelerated the burning gases toward one of the Qoearc ships, who apparently mistook it for weapons discharge. That may have caused them to open fire on the AI’s.”

  Mitchell stared at Allard, then shook his head. “So, all this was due to a failed twenty-credit part? Possibly costing hundreds of Qoearc or Earth Alliance lives? You know we’ve not heard from Armstrong as yet. Possibly because there is nothing to report, possibly because they aren’t there to report.” He looked to Straum. “Commander?”

  Straum sat straighter and drew a breath. “No excuses, sir, we missed it on inspection.”

  “In Commander Straum’s defense,” said Satoshi quietly, “there may have been no prior indication of failure. The valve is a very simple on-off part, and between stresses of ship’s temperature and that of space, a manufacturing defect may have been the cause.”

  Mitchell paused a beat before speaking again. “Mister Neunada, what do your tactical sensors show? You said nearly twenty-four hours ago you had detected what appeared to be a fire-fight.”

  “All quiet, sir. If Armstrong is returning, it may be stealthed. If not…” His voice trailed.

  “Captain, why would they not hail us if they’re on the way back?” asked Satoshi.

  “Coming from out-system, their broadcast could be picked up by the Qoearc,” answered Allard. “Even encrypted, the Qoearc would know their third ship was likely disabled or destroyed, and Armstrong on the way back.”

  Satoshi nodded. “Then we wait for how long?”

  “They should be in the general neighborhood in the next twelve hours,” said Neunada. “By then our tactical sensors will pick up their neutrino emissions.”

  Allard spoke. “Sir, what do we do? How do we reconcile this to the Harmonians, to say nothing of the Qoearc?”

  Mitchell gazed into his nearly-empty coffee cup. “I don’t know. I’ll need to consult with Captain Guererro and Commander Trachenberg before I make a decision.” He glanced around, meeting each gaze with his. “I don’t have to tell you how serious this is. What we thought would be a strictly military operation has become a diplomatic nightmare. It’s going to take a bit of time to sort things out. We’ll need a captain’s face-to-face meeting, and that means some very covert ship to ship work. If the Qoearc pick it up, they’ll know something’s amiss.”

  “I’ll see to it, Captain,” said Satoshi. “We have procedures in place, and I’ll handle the details myself.”

  “Very well. Now all of you, go to your quarters and get some rest. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few hours and days, but a major action would probably be better. We’re not diplomats, but we know our jobs. Dismissed.”

  “Sir, a moment of your time, if you will.” Straum remained seated as the others took their exit.

  Mitchell rose and brought the coffee pot to the table, then poured before Straum could decline. He sat and sipped quietly as she pondered her words.

  “Sir, I don’t know what to say about the AI’s that would explain anything without it sounding like an excuse. They didn’t perform the way we had hoped, nor were our monitors efficient in overriding the autonomous commands and finding a way out of the situation. Without further analysis, the whole operation was simply… a cluster.”

  “Yes it was, Commander. What’s your point?”

  “Let my pilots take on the Qoearc if it becomes necessary. Put the AI’s on the back burner for now. Let Earth Alliance work out the bugs and do more testing. In my opinion, they weren’t ready for this sort of heavy engagement. They may never be.”

  “Those are strong words, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir, and spoken by one who has flown and fought beside many of the pilots on this ship and others. You can’t replace a thinking mind with machinery.”

  Mitchell regarded her for a long moment. “Let’s see what the outcome of Armstrong’s mission is first. Then we’ll decide.”

  “Sir, if I may ask; what did your order Armstrong to do?”

  “My orders were to stop the Qoearc from delivering our tech to the High Command. Any means necessary. I’m sure you understand that, because it’s exactly what I was ordered to do regarding this system’s protection.”

  Straum nodded. “Yes, sir. I was hoping you would give Armstrong a chance to prove itse
lf.”

  Mitchell chuckled. “You mean Commander Trachenberg, don’t you?”

  Straum showed a wry grin. “She’s the captain. I’m sure she found a way to carry out your orders.”

  * * *

  EAS Armstrong…

  Armstrong limped toward the inner system, twice having had to slow for additional repairs, as breaches opened in the weakened main hull.

  Trachenberg had held services for those killed in action, met with various crewmembers regarding the battle, and consulted with ship’s counselor about treatment and necessary on-ship relief from duty. Mostly, however, she kept her business face on, checking every section of the ship from Engineering to the Crew’s Mess, and visiting the decimated torpedo deck. There she read a quiet passage from her prayer book. Though she had no idea of the religious bent of the lost crew, it was all she could do from a personal perspective. Then she faced open space through the energy screen erected around the ruin of the torpedo deck and saluted the stars. She held it for a long moment as Day is Done played in her mind.

  Returning to her quarters, she sat with a small cameo in her hands, given to her by her mother on her sixteenth birthday. She wept, not for her memories, but for those lost, and not because it was pointless, but that it was for cause.

  Confusing, she thought, but it doesn’t matter. My tears are not because they died, but because it was necessary. Even the Qoearc know it. “Victory requires Sacrifice”, the Marines say. We know it, too, but we just don’t like to admit it to ourselves sometimes.

  The door chimed. She wiped her eyes quickly, tucked away the medallion in a small hand-carved wooden box, and took a breath. “Come in.”

  Doctor Addams entered with a small bottle and two cordial glasses. “Thought you might need this.” He grinned warmly.

  Trachenberg motioned to the table. “I haven’t slept in nearly a day, Doctor, so if this is a sedative, I really don’t need it.”

  “A refresher, then.” He poured the glasses half-full, handed one to Trachenberg, and raised his to her. “L'Chayyim, Captain.”

  Trachenberg paused before raising her glass. “L'Chayyim, Doctor. Thank you.” She sipped, the wine dark and fruity, breathed a sigh, and sipped again.

  “Does the Captain have a moment for her doctor?”

  Trachenberg nodded and offered Addams a seat, then sat facing him. “Captain Martinez’s condition?”

  Addams set down his drink. “She’s fine, came through this better than a lot of us. The stasis chamber is intact, and we have about twenty-six days left before things get critical.”

  “Could you pull her out of medical stasis then put her back in?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Not recommended, because entering stasis and coming out of it are both hard on the system. The best thing to do is leave her as she is.” He drank, then looked Trachenberg in the eye. “What do you think the Qoearc will do when they learn you’ve destroyed their ship?”

  Trachenberg thought for a moment. “They’ll be hot for revenge. And as damaged as we are, we won’t be much use in a fight. They ‘ll likely come after us first, as we were the ones taking their ship down.”

  “You haven’t contacted Burlingame? Or Marshall?”

  “We’re stealthed, Doctor, and any transmissions we send to the inner system will surely be picked up by the Qoearc. We don’t dare give them any sign their third ship is gone.”

  “Surely they have some idea.”

  Trachenberg nodded. “Yes, because if we had been destroyed, you would think their captain would have broadcast it all over the system. But maybe they’re more clever than that, and think more like we’re thinking. Don’t give your enemy an edge if you can help it.”

  Addams refilled their glasses. “A question of a personal nature, if you don’t mind.”

  She nodded again, sipping.

  “Let’s assume Captain Martinez will require an extended period of rehabilitation. Will you accept command of Armstrong if it’s offered? Along with the appropriate promotion?”

  Trachenberg set down her glass and looked sternly to the doctor. “This is Captain Martinez’s ship until Earth Alliance says otherwise. If you’re asking am I ready for command, I was ready a year ago, but chose to serve as XO on Armstrong. I wanted experience on the Interceptor class, because there are more coming. That’s where I’ll be, if Earthfleet offers me a chance.”

  Addams drained his glass and smiled. “Good. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

  He stood, and Trachenberg did as well, swaying slightly. “Now, your doctor is ordering you to bed for six hours. In the meantime, let your crew do their jobs. When you wake, give me a call and we’ll have breakfast together.”

  Trachenberg smiled sheepishly. “Your bedside manner is commendable, Doctor.” She nodded to the half-empty bottle. “And your wine. Thank you.”

  Addams motioned to her bed. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

  * * *

  EAS Burlingame…

  “Captain Guererro has arrived, sir.” A voice spoke from the command seat speaker.

  Mitchell looked up from studying the latest engineering report and clicked the intercom button. “I wasn’t aware she was scheduled.”

  “No, sir, she arrived unannounced. Shall I have her brought to your ready room?”

  Mitchell pushed down a knot of irritation. “Yes, and have Ship’s Services send coffee for both of us.”

  “Very good, sir. Hangar deck out.”

  What’s this about? thought Mitchell, rising. “Mister Tyvaos, you have the conn. Captain Guererro and I will be in conference. Call if anything comes up.”

  “Sir, do you want the latest from Comm?”

  “By all means, route it to my ready room desk.” Mitchell crossed the Bridge and went through the door just as Guererro entered from the lift.

  “That way, Captain,” said Tyvaos, pointing to the access behind the starboard consoles.

  Guererro nodded, striding around the railing and disappearing through the ready room entry.

  Rashim at Comm looked to the Arnec, who only raised an eyebrow. “Unknown, Lieutenant. Send your latest information to the captain. I’m sure he will pass it on to Captain Guererro if appropriate.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The mood on the Bridge was one of curiosity and concern. No one had ever seen an Earthfleet captain simply arrive on another’s ship without invitation.

  * * *

  Mitchell was standing at his desk as Guererro entered. “Good to see you, Captain, welcome aboard.” He motioned to a seat as a steward entered with coffee. They poured and sat drinking quietly for a few minutes, then Mitchell set down his cup. “Everything on Marshall ship-shape?”

  “We’re still at Standby Alert as ordered. Otherwise, no changes.”

  “Crew getting enough rest? No medical issues?”

  “None, Mitch. Everything is fine.”

  Mitchell refilled their cups. “Okay, Sonja, what’s this about?”

  Guererro added cream and sugar to her coffee before answering. “Armstrong. And Commander Trachenberg.”

  Mitchell nodded. “Yes, I’ve been worried, too. You think she’s in trouble?”

  “No, I think she probably got her ship all shot up, but found a way to deal with the Qoearc.” Mitchell said nothing as Guererro continued. “She’ll show back up with a ship not able to fight, at least not for long, or no good for anything except being a target. I don’t want to see you holding it against her.”

  “You feel I’m unduly critical or biased against the commander?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m here personally, to discuss it with you face to face.” Guererro drank again, waiting for Mitchell to reply.

  He nodded. “Alright, Captain. She’s a hot-head. She’s a risk-taker, and too much of one for my taste. And I agree, if she won any engagement, her ship isn’t worth spit right now, and they’re struggling to hold things together just to return.”

  He sipped coffee again, hardly ta
sting. “That being said, her marks as a tactician are off the scale. If she couldn’t fight her way out of a situation, she could think her way out. She’s brilliant, and will make a fine captain someday. But not yet.”

  “So why didn’t you insist on your First Officer Allard taking command?”

  Mitchell blew a breath. “Because that’s not how we do things in Earthfleet, and to be honest, I didn’t have the heart. I couldn’t… break a spirit that bright and take away her chance.”

  Guerrero raised the cup again, then spoke. “Somewhere along the line, we all had a chance to prove ourselves. To sink or swim, as the old saying goes. You. Me. Now her. I think what’s bothering you more than anything is a bit of survivor guilt.”

  Mitchell looked away, then chuckled. “Well put, Captain. Your point is made, and very well.”

  “So shake it off, Mitch,” she replied, with a gleam in her eye. “Give the girl a break. Let her dance and twirl and sing. Let her fly.”

  Mitchell nodded at the last. “I have a feeling… she’s already doing that, or has done it now. We’ll know soon enough, I think.”

  Guererro gently touched his wrist, showing a slight grin. “You wanted command of this little venture. Having second thoughts?”

  Mitchell took her hand in his, softly. “Not with you as my wingman, Captain. We’ve been through enough wars together to know why you’re here.”

  The room was quiet for a long moment. The communicator buzzed. “Bridge to Captain.”

  Mitchell gave a small sigh and snapped the button. “What is it, Mister Tyvaos?”

  “Sir, Armstrong is on our tactical sensors, heavily stealthed. We have an encrypted squirt tagged ‘Captain’s eyes only’. Shall I route it to your ready room?”

  “Only an Arnec would ask such a question,” said Guererro softly.

  Mitchell gave her a shushing motion. “Do so now, Commander.” He pushed the button again. “You’re cruel.”

  Guererro gave him a crooked smile. “You should know.”