by Ken Lozito
“Understood, Major.”
Savannah nodded. “Call in your reserves to the bridge. We’ll need all hands working on this for the time being. I want ideas and solutions for the current engagement, and don’t be afraid to stretch the encounter with a couple of ‘what if’-type scenarios.”
The call went out and Savannah sent her orders to the rest of the crew, bringing them up to speed. She knew there was a better way to respond to the threat they’d just faced. Now she needed to set her mind to finding the best solution so the next time General Gates wanted to test them, the Banshee, at least, would be ready for the encounter.
Chapter Nine
Connor could scarcely keep the scowl from his face. The comlink to the destroyer Wyatt had just been closed. Throughout his military career he’d seen all manner of people who’d frozen up at the first real sign of danger, but this was the first time he’d seen the commander of a damn destroyer do so. Had this been the NA Alliance military, Major Alec Corwin would have been relieved of duty and replaced with a more capable commander.
He sat in the officers’ conference room near the bridge with Reisman and Sean across from him, and they were joined by Colonel Howe and Major Nathan Hayes.
“The shit hit the fan,” Connor said. “I can’t have a destroyer commander freezing up like that. By all accounts, it was Corwin who failed to even execute a rudimentary response to the hostile forces in this exercise. Where was his XO?”
“She was performing an inspection in Engineering when the attack occurred,” Major Nathan Hayes, XO of the Vigilant, answered.
Colonel Howe leaned forward. “Captain Mattison hightailed it to the bridge shortly after the attack began, but by then the damage had already been done. That crew has suffered a major blow to their morale that I’m not sure they can recover from.”
“So that’s one for replacing Alec Corwin as the commanding officer of the Wyatt,” Connor said and looked at Major Hayes.
“There’s a pool of candidates we can draw from if we go that route, and I agree with the colonel. Major Corwin should be relieved of command,” Major Hayes said.
“General, meaning no disrespect to anyone here, but I disagree,” Sean said.
Connor glanced at him, considering. “Care to elaborate, Captain?”
“The training drills are designed to expose weaknesses so they can be addressed. Simply yanking Corwin off that ship won’t help us in the long run,” Sean said.
Connor narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “There are some things you don’t get a second chance on. The lives of the hundred and fifty crewmembers aboard the Wyatt depend on their chain of command not faltering at the first sign of danger. I’d initially thought his approach to escort duty was on the conservative side, but now I’m thinking Major Corwin was just being lazy.”
Reisman brought up some data on his personal holoscreen. “General, there’s nothing in his performance history that indicates a dereliction of duty. If you’re taking votes, sir, mine is to allow the major to complete the escort duty and return to New Earth. Then we can decide what to do with him.”
Connor sighed and looked at all of them. “Two of you think I should yank him out of the chair and two of you think I should give him another shot. You guys are no help.”
Reisman chuckled. “One other thing to consider is the amount of time that went into training Major Corwin. I know Captain Mattison. She’s a topnotch officer, and I’m sure things would have been different had she actually been on the bridge.”
“That’s not good enough,” Connor said.
Colonel Howe cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on the table. “I may have been hasty with my recommendation. I’d like to see what Major Corwin and his crew can come up with in terms of solutions to the combat drill. To me, that will be very telling as to whether he should be left in command.”
Connor nodded. “I agree. Okay, let’s move on to the Banshee. Wil, put the simulation up on the main screen.”
Reisman tapped a few commands into his personal terminal and the main holoscreen came on.
Connor leaned back in his chair and watched the simulation play out. This gave an accurate representation of how Major Savannah Cross had handled the combat drill.
“She’s a scrapper,” Connor said. “She tried to hail the unknowns, and when they didn’t respond she had her tactical team formulate multiple firing solutions. Those firing solutions provided the maximum coverage for the cargo carrier, and she even sent an updated course to Captain Benson of the Chmiel, which was accounted for in her plans. Pause the simulation,” Connor said. “She followed the rules of engagement and even tried to leverage use of the missile-defense platforms nearby. If I had another heavy cruiser, I’d give it to her right now. Alright, resume the simulation and let’s see how this plays out.”
The combat simulation sped forward, and the destroyer was able to extract a heavy toll from the enemy forces, but there was still a ninety percent certainty that the Banshee would have been destroyed.
“Look at that. The computer shows an eighty percent estimate that the Chmiel would have escaped the encounter unscathed,” Sean said.
“That’s right. So now, a test for you guys. What could Major Cross have done differently that would have allowed her ship to survive the encounter?” Connor said and looked squarely at Colonel Howe.
“I see this is for me,” Colonel Howe said and narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. “Assuming the raiders or enemy forces were only after the cargo carrier, she could have leveraged that to her advantage, using them as bait to draw them farther inside the envelope of the missile-defense platforms. That would have given her more cover and provided protection for the cargo carrier.”
“That’s not bad. Wil, can you input Ian’s changes into the simulation and see how that plays out?” Connor said.
Reisman nodded and began updating the parameters for the simulation. “Okay, playing back at one-half speed.”
They watched as the simulation played out. The Banshee did survive the encounter but still sustained significant damage.
“I think that, given the situation, drawing the enemy forces toward the missile-defense envelope is a good way to go. The one thing that’s missing is the other destroyer,” Connor said, and Colonel Howe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “If Corwin and Cross had coordinated their efforts, they would not only have survived the attack but inflicted significant damage on the enemy. This represents one of my primary concerns.” Connor glanced at the Vigilant’s commander and XO. “We’re too siloed in our approach to enemy engagement. I take partial responsibility for that. We need to come up with some combat drills of our own that necessitate the coordinated use of our resources.”
Colonel Howe nodded. “I see what you’re saying. I don’t think I would have seen it if it hadn’t been thrown in my face.”
“That’s why we train. I want you to have a private word with Major Corwin and lay it out for him. His job is on the line if he can’t convince me that he deserves to be in the commander’s chair. I also want Major Cross informed that she’s promoted to squadron commander,” Connor said.
“Yes, General,” Colonel Howe said.
“I know you have a ship to run, Colonel, but I want the tactical officers rotated through here to undergo these simulations and propose changes of their own. The best ones become the standard for the CDF Fleet.”
Chapter Ten
Major Savannah Cross splashed cold water on her face and then patted her cheeks and neck down with a towel. The commanding officer’s room had its own private bathroom. She would have loved to have a shower, but short on time, she’d elected to get some chow instead. If she were being particularly wishful, a swim in one of the lakes near Sierra would have drained the tension right out of her. She wondered if she could convince the engineers who designed the next class of starships to include a lap pool.
She deposited the towel into the reclamation canister that would separate the water from the towel for recycling,
then ran a brush through her short blonde hair and put on a fresh uniform. She and her crew had been working for twelve hours straight, poring over the recorded events from the last combat drill. They’d come up with some clever alternative actions that she was sure would meet General Gates’ criteria for success. While the various teams worked in shifts, Savannah and John Elder had taken turns working with them all to come up with acceptable alternatives that would change the outcome of the combat training exercise. Between that and the fact that she’d already been awake for a long time before the “attack,” she hadn’t slept for almost thirty hours, but she’d managed to get four hours’ rack time and was preparing to meet with her XO to finalize their simulations on alternative ways they could have handled General Gates’ surprise training exercise.
Her personal terminal alerted an incoming call, voice only.
“Yes,” Savannah said.
“Major, I have a comlink from Major Corwin, who’d like to speak with you privately, ma’am,” Lieutenant Kordek said.
Savannah frowned. Had the shift changed already? She glanced at the ship’s clock.
“Alright, put him through,” Savannah said.
Major Corwin’s thin face appeared on her terminal. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept much. He was speaking to her from his own quarters on the Wyatt.
“What can I do for you, Alec?” Savannah asked.
“Thank you for speaking with me,” Major Corwin said.
Savannah nodded. “I’m due to meet with my team in a few minutes.”
“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about—the presentation to General Gates.”
Savannah watched as Corwin’s brown eyes slipped into calculation while he considered what he was going to say.
“Savannah, I messed up big time,” Corwin said and sighed.
Savannah felt the skin around her eyes tighten for a moment and then she sat down. “What happened to you?”
Corwin shook his head. “I froze. When those ships started to appear, I panicked. I knew what I was supposed to do, the ROE and protocols we were to follow. I even remembered all the training drills we’d done as a crew, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t . . .”
Savannah leaned toward the holoscreen. “You screwed up. You can’t change that, but the fact that they haven’t taken your command away means you’re getting a chance to convince them you belong in the commander’s chair.”
Corwin nodded and swallowed hard. “I know, it’s just . . . I saw how you responded to them. How’d you even do that? You were ready to lay it all on the line.”
“I hit back, but there were things we could have done much better. As for how I knew what to do,” Savannah said and speared a look at the floundering destroyer commander, “we’re here to protect the colony against any threat that comes our way. I stuck to our mission parameters—protect the cargo carrier. If you think you can’t do that, it’s your responsibility to take yourself out of that chair and let your XO finish the mission. The way I see it, you can try to pull the pieces together and learn from your mistakes because General Gates is never going to let up. He’s relentless in the training of the CDF because he believes there’s a threat coming for all of us from Earth. It’s what drives him, and it’s what drives me. Why are you here?” Savannah asked.
Corwin’s eyebrows pulled together. “Same as you. To protect the colony.”
“Well then, get back to work instead of talking to me,” Savannah said.
Corwin regarded her for a moment and nodded. “Thank you, Major Cross.”
The holoscreen went blank as the call ended, and Savannah shook her head. She hoped Corwin could pull himself together both for himself and the sake of his crew. He wasn’t a bad person, but he lacked motivation. Had Corwin been under her command, she’d have ridden him until he either broke or rose up and confirmed his right to wear the uniform. The Banshee’s crew was no stranger to her no-nonsense attitude.
She rose from the chair and left her quarters. They had a few hours until their meeting with General Gates, and she aimed to squeeze every ounce of productivity from her crew during the time they had left.
She headed to the bridge, and the ship’s computer announced her presence as she approached the commander’s chair, currently occupied by Captain Elder.
“What have you got?” Savannah asked.
Elder’s face lit up and he glanced over at Lieutenant Green, who worked at his tactical station. “I think you’re going to be impressed with what we’ve come up with.”
“We’ll see about that. Dazzle me,” Savannah said.
The crew of the Banshee had come together during this exercise and Savannah felt her chest swell with pride for her crew. She knew Alec Corwin had a much harder road to travel to get the same from his crew and hoped he rose to the task. If not, she might have to replace her XO because he was a prime candidate to take command of the Wyatt.
Chapter Eleven
General Gates to infirmary two.
The announcement resonated along the corridor Connor was in since the ship’s computer would only send the message to his location. He’d been speaking with the Vigilant’s lead engineer, who had an idea about updating the cooling systems for the rail-cannons.
“Increasing the rail-cannons’ rate of fire is extremely important. Run the numbers for your proposal, and if they check out, we can try it,” Connor said.
“Will do, General,” Major James Hatly said.
They left the forward aft gunnery area, where Connor had been making good on his promise to personally visit different sections of the ship.
He glanced at Reisman. “Where’s Howe?” Connor asked.
The Vigilant’s commanding officer was overdue to meet with them.
“According to his locator, he’s already at the infirmary,” Reisman said.
Connor frowned and pulled up the ship’s layout on his internal heads-up display. The Vigilant had two medical bays on the ship, each located mid-ship toward either the bow or the stern. They made their way through the ship, soldiers giving way to Connor. As they closed in on the medical bay, there was a line of pale-looking soldiers waiting to be seen.
Connor quickened his pace and walked into the bay. There were beds along the far wall, and all of them were occupied. Doctors and nurses were rushing around, all of them with face masks on to block contagions. Connor glanced to the side where a desk clerk sat. Multiple people surrounded the desk, all asking questions at once. There was a clear plastic container that had more face masks, and Connor reached in and grabbed two of them. He tossed one to Reisman and put the other one on.
The desk clerk glanced at him, noting the gold collars of his uniform.
“Dr. Allen is down over there, sir,” the clerk said.
Connor thanked her and headed in the direction the clerk had gestured. They came to an area of the medical bay that was sealed off from everyone else, and he saw several medical personnel surrounding two beds that were just beyond the barrier. Connor peered inside and his eyes widened. Lying on the bed closest to him was Colonel Ian Howe, and right next to him was his XO, Major Nathan Hayes. They were both intubated.
“This doesn’t look good,” Reisman said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Connor replied grimly.
Connor pressed the button on the comlink for the quarantine area. “Is Dr. Allen in there?”
One of the doctors leaned away from the others, who were still huddled around the two patients. Dr. Allen waved to Connor and then quickly spoke to his colleagues before going through the airlock separating the two areas. The medical officer waited in the airlock, going through decontamination protocols, and then came out.
“General, thank you for coming so quickly,” Dr. Allen said.
“What’s going on, doctor?” Connor asked.
“The colonel and major are experiencing symptoms of an acute allergic reaction and we’re trying to identify the source,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor glanced over at
Ian Howe. “That looks like more than an allergic reaction to something.”
“We intubated them to force the airway to stay clear and induced a medical coma,” Dr. Allen said.
“You have them quarantined. What’s the risk to the rest of the crew?” Connor asked.
Epidemics on a ship could be catastrophic if the crew couldn’t perform their jobs.
“Only a precaution in case we’ve missed something,” Dr. Allen said.
“We saw a line of soldiers waiting to get in here. Has this thing already spread?”
“Too soon to tell. What I know so far is that the colonel and the major ate at the same mess hall, and there have been several allergic reactions experienced by other soldiers who ate there—anything from upset stomach to severe vomiting. In extreme cases, the soldiers in question have reported problems breathing,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor pulled off his face mask. “So if it’s something they ingested, I don’t need to wear this mask.”
“Correct, General. As the ranking officer on this ship, I must inform you that you are now the commanding officer of the Vigilant. I will send you status updates every hour unless something changes, but I expect you’ll be wanting to go to the bridge,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor took another look at the bedridden colonel and major. He pulled up each of their files on his internal heads-up display, and neither of them had any known allergies.
“Very well. If you need anything to get them back on their feet, you let me know,” Connor said.
“Yes, of course, General,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor and Reisman left the medical bay. He opened a comlink to the bridge.
“Who has the con?” Connor asked.
“I do, General. Sergeant Vladimir LaCroix.”
“I want three security teams to make a sweep of the mess halls, looking for any signs of tampering or spoilage, and I want it done with the cooperation of the officer in charge,” Connor said.
