by Britt Ringel
Victorious, Lombardi sat back and smiled at Heskan. My turn, he thought. “Lieutenant Arnold, who is your squadron commander?”
Arnold snorted and then smiled faintly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but Komandor Podporucznik Lombardi is.” Arnold’s smile broadened and he asked, “Which begs the question, what are her orders?”
Chapter 9
Five minutes later, the briefing room’s wall screen displayed only Lombardi’s image. “It’s better this way, Komandor,” Heskan explained. “We can discuss our options and then provide a united front when we give the orders. The rest of the squadron will be less apt to resist if they don’t know whose idea it was.”
“That is logical, Commander,” Lombardi agreed. An amused smile played upon her lips. “I see you have brought your security blanket to this private conference,” she said as she motioned toward Lieutenant Vernay.
“I need her, Komandor,” Heskan admitted. “She often sees things that I miss. I also know I can count on her to support what we’re attempting.”
Lombardi looked over Vernay. “She is a strong junior officer.”
“Uh, she’s also sitting right here,” Vernay interjected as she pointed to herself. “Why are we talking about her like she’s absent?”
Both Heskan and Lombardi chuckled. Heskan offered, “Sorry, Stacy.”
Lombardi casually folded her arms and rocked back slightly. “So, Commander, you seem to have this all planned out. What are your recommendations?”
Heskan grinned as he said, “I believe I do, Komandor, and the first thing is…” Heskan rapidly entered commands into his datapad. “I’m sending you a combat exercise I worked on while we were in tunnel space. It’s based on the attacks we’ve endured from the cutters.” Heskan flashed the exercise on to the wall screen, which split into halves. “Our navies operate differently and if we’re going to fight together, we need to smooth those differences out.”
Lombardi looked at the proposal with a critical eye. She leaned forward to read the exercise’s name. “Combat Exercise Rising Skein. What is ‘skein,’ Commander?”
Heskan smiled. “It’s a flock of geese in flight, and my name is Garrett, Komandor. Beyond the exercise, we need to decide what we’re going to do when the super-carrier dives in.”
“We should have the same forty-five light-minute lead we had in Perdita when they come through here,” Vernay noted.
“How will they find us in Iocaste?” Lombardi wondered aloud.
“Exactly,” Heskan agreed. “Unless they have sensor capabilities that are as advanced as their propulsion, they won’t be able to locate us.”
Vernay tilted her head to one side. “But, sir, there’s only one destination we could be heading to. Won’t they just sail for the next tunnel point?”
Heskan nodded. “If we’re lucky, yes. If that super-carrier makes way for the next tunnel point, we can steer a wide course around it and dive back to Perdita and then Kale and so on. It’s a much better alternative than continuing to dive into the unknown.”
“It will not happen,” Lombardi predicted. “If it was just the cutters, maybe, but whatever is commanding that carrier will know it has to moor at the tunnel point and wait for the tunnel disturbance we generate as we dive to the next system.”
Heskan watched Vernay’s shoulders sag but countered, “We’ll still be a full one hundred and twelve light-minutes ahead of them at the next system. If the tunnel points in the next system are closer, we might be able to dive out before they’re even in the system.”
“This is true,” Lombardi said. “It all depends on what we find in the next system.” She looked down, presumably at her datapad. “Does it have a name?”
Heskan shook his head. “No. Per the Accords of Nine Thirty-One, neither government can explore the portion of space extending coreward from the disputed zone.”
“Okay,” Lombardi said and looked at Vernay. “Lieutenant, find a name for the next star system, please.” She addressed Heskan. “We either stay in Iocaste and hope we can wait out the super-carrier or proceed to the next system.”
Heskan hedged. “I think the carrier will send out cutters to try to find us. Stacy is right. They’ll know where we’re headed.”
Lombardi paused for a moment. “Then we will continue sailing toward the next tunnel point. When it becomes obvious the super-carrier is moored at the Perdita tunnel point, we will dive to the next system. Your thoughts?”
“I think that’s best,” Heskan agreed. “Which brings us to what we should do in the next system?” He looked Lombardi in the eye. “I wasn’t lying, Komandor. I swear to you that your people will be returned to Hollara.”
“Sir,” Vernay cautioned. She opened her mouth to speak again but then closed it and looked surreptitiously at the wall screen.
“Stacy, whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of the komandor,” Heskan advised.
Vernay sighed. “Fine. Captain, you know how our government feels about Hollara. How can you be certain…”
“Stacy, I’m not fighting by Isabella’s side, with her people and our people dying to protect each other, only to have them end up in a POW camp.” Heskan shook his head adamantly. “No way.” He looked at Vernay as he felt a stirring of hope. “Bree will have to return them when word gets out how we’ve worked together. Maybe what this little squadron accomplishes can have an impact through this whole region of space.” Heskan reflected briefly on the Brevic General Council and then looked at Lombardi. “Besides, I’ve given my word to you. I’m going to keep it.”
Lombardi looked thoughtfully at Heskan. “I have similar concerns about my government. I would normally believe it would be willing to return you and your crews but after the partial destruction of Salus… Why would any govern—” She stopped herself and shook her head as if to clear it. “I promise I will do everything in my power, and I do have some political capital thanks to my family.” Lombardi looked away distantly as a flash of emotion washed over her face. “Even more so now because of the sympathy from the loss of the Onesti.” After some time, she looked back to Heskan. “Your people will be returned. I promise you this, Garrett.”
* * *
Diane Selvaggio was lying on her stomach, a tremendous weight pressing her down. The bright light hurt her eyes and the act of squinting against the light brought further agony to her head. The itching that stretched across her entire body was pure misery and crescendoed at her back. As Selvaggio attempted a second time to open her eyes, she found the light slightly more bearable. In the background, the rhythmic beep of her heart rate monitor began a steady escalation as she realized she was in an unfamiliar room. The beeping accelerated even faster when she saw a doctor dressed in the royal green of a Hollaran uniform. Fear rising inside her, Selvaggio attempted to turn onto her back to sit up.
Doctor Timoleon forcefully pushed his patient down. “Miss Selvaggio, stop! You will tear out the snare. Just remain on your stomach.” The doctor looked away and quickly ordered, “Jocelyn, page Doctor Carter. Tell him the patient has regained consciousness. Inform the komandor as well.”
“Where?” croaked Selvaggio.
“Somewhere safe,” Timoleon answered vaguely. “We are getting your doctor right now and he will explain everything to you. You have been a most uncooperative patient in your unconsciousness. I trust now that you are awake, you will be more compliant.” The doctor moved from Selvaggio’s view and the weight on her back lightened before he reappeared near Selvaggio’s head. “You actually had the nerve to exhibit several instances of acute convulsions until we attached the first neuronic surrogate.” The doctor smiled broadly and said, “Get it? The nerve.” He laughed aloud and walked toward a counter mumbling, “And Isabella says I do not have a proper bedside manner.”
Upon hearing the name, reality struck Selvaggio and her heart rate monitor skyrocketed. She once again tried to lift herself up and turn over. The pain in her back hit an all-time high. She took a tortured look ov
er her shoulder and saw a large, pale tumor growing from her back. Neat rows of organic staples lined the site where the mass attached to her. Selvaggio felt the room twist to one side, saw a flash of color and then, nothing.
* * *
“No, no, no!” Vernay pounded the conference table with her fist. On each of the wall screens in Kite’s auditorium, dozens of alien cutters slammed into the light cruiser, Nuno. “Lieutenant Spencer, were you trying to make us look incompetent?” She froze the replay of the combined fleet’s first exercise with her datapad. The next exercise would start in a mere hour and the ad-hoc meeting in the auditorium was filled to capacity. Vernay had demanded that every sailor in Kite’s weapons section attend, from the most junior spaceman apprentice up to its officers.
The embattled weapons section commander turned in his chair under Vernay’s verbal barrage. Lieutenant Spencer’s eyes flashed angrily as he said, “What did you want us to do, Lieutenant? It was either us or them.”
Another vicious blow to the table from Vernay sent her docked datapad flying up in the air. It clattered to the deck. “There is no them, Tony!” She pointed dramatically at the Hollaran light cruiser, ensuring everyone in the large room could see her gesture. Speaking loudly she asked, “If that was Eagle, what would you have done?”
Spencer answered immediately, “I would have had the RSLs concentrate their fire in Eagle’s defense and let Kite risk the potential hits.”
“And why?” Vernay questioned, the tone in her voice growing hopeful.
“It was the end of the attack. Standard escort defense theory is to let the escorts absorb the blows since they’ve already done their job. But, ma’am, do you really want to risk Brevic lives to save the Hollies?”
“I want you and your section to act like the competent and professional sailors you are,” Vernay replied powerfully, guaranteeing her voice carried through the entire room. “I want you and your people to do such an amazing job that those Hollie officers soil their dress greens when they see how incredible Brevic gunnery is. Or were you happy with your third place efficiency rating during our last exercise?”
Spencer hung his head slightly. “No, ma’am. I was not.”
“Neither was I. The Vaettir had a statistically higher interception rate than we did. She’s just a missile cruiser!” Vernay pressed. She looked out at the sea of gunnery sailors. “It’s humiliating. Looking into our squadron commander’s eyes… looking at our own captain… and attempting to explain why Kite can’t perform her most basic function.” She stood up and faced the crowd. Although her small stature made her easily underestimated, her booming presence nearly overwhelmed the auditorium. “We are better than this,” she said as she pointed at the frozen displays around the room. “We will be better than this. We will engage and intercept every cutter coming at the fleet. Every one!” Her words echoed off the back wall. God help me, I’m becoming Commander Durmont. The wild thought threatened to make her laugh.
Vernay swept her datapad off the deck. She shuffled through the screens containing the exercise evaluation, stopping precisely at the one she had pre-marked. “LAZ B. Who the hell is running that laser group?” she bellowed.
A lone gunner’s mate second class stood. “I am, ma’am,” Tyler Pruette answered meekly.
Vernay cast a long, disappointed look at the gunner. She looked down theatrically once again at the report and then back to Pruette and said just loud enough to be understood, “Shameful.” Vernay backed up to the conference table and rested against it. “Tyler, what happened? You were a much better gunner than this on Anelace.”
Pruette, now bright red, answered, “I don’t know, ma’am.” He looked down at the floor. “Well, maybe it was motivation, something to do with who we were protecting…” He dipped his head between his shoulders as if he could hide.
“So, because you happen to dislike the capital ships we’re escorting, you’re willing to let your entire subsection embarrass you, me, the captain and the entire Brevic Navy?”
“No—”
Vernay cut him off. “Then is it that you have some personal beef against our allies that you’re willing to tank the exercise and make us the laughing stock of the squadron?”
“Ma’am—”
Vernay cut him off again with a curt wave and continued relentlessly, “Or is it that you know the Hollie gunners are just plain better than your people so what’s the point of even trying?”
Vernay stared at the silent gunner’s mate. Okay, he’s been suitably beaten into submission. Vernay asked in a carefully calculated tender voice, “Tyler, why did you join the navy?”
“I wanted to shoot things, ma’am.” Pruette’s answer drew muffled chuckles from the crowd.
“Do you think you’re good at that, Tyler? Shooting things?”
“I know I am, ma’am. I just needed a kick in the pants. There are no better gunners than Brevic gunners!” The statement drew a chorus of whoops throughout the room.
Vernay turned to face Spencer and challenged, “Gunner’s Mate Second Class Pruette just told me that Brevic gunners are the best in known space. Can your people back that up, WEPS?”
Spencer gritted his teeth hard in determination and nodded. He rose forcefully from his chair and looked out at his section mates. In a loud, authoritative voice he roared, “Our first officer wants to know if we can prove it, gunners. Can we?”
“Yes, sir!” The deafening answer echoed off the walls.
Lieutenant Vernay moved down the aisle toward the exit as Spencer shouted a well-known gunnery motto. “Sights tight!”
“Barrels bright!” The reply thundered in the auditorium as Kite’s gunners answered in unison.
The portal opened as Vernay crossed the threshold and she stepped into the hall. Spencer’s voice carried into the passageway as he issued the call once more. “Sights tight!”
The portal slipped closed, yet the thundering response carried easily into the hall. “Barrels bright!”
“I think you’ve made your point,” Heskan said, waiting for Vernay in the passageway.
“We have their attention now,” she agreed. “I hated to single out Tyler like that but I needed to make a statement.”
Heskan nodded. “I watched from the wall screen camera. Did his subsection really do that bad?”
Vernay shook her head quickly. “Not really, but everyone on Kite knows Pruette worked under me on Anelace. Ripping into him showed the entire section that there are no favorites, no ‘golden-childs.’ Plus, I know Tyler Pruette. In this upcoming exercise, he’s going to be more concerned about disappointing you and me than about who he is protecting.” Vernay smiled slyly. “I’m expecting a big number from his group on the next go-around.”
The sound of Spencer’s frenzied voice diminished, but Ensign Miller’s deep baritone bellowed something that ended with cheers of camaraderie carrying through the auditorium’s closed doors. “Well, we won’t have long to wait,” Heskan said, “but I don’t think motivation will be a problem this time.”
* * *
An hour later, Anatoly Valokov was beside himself. “Well, do not just sit on your hands, Kapitan!”
Phoenix’s weapons officer spun to face the first officer and protested, “They are destroying most of the cutters before they enter our range, sir. What do you want me to do?”
Valokov rocked back slightly under the weight of his seat restraints. “Komandor Lombardi, permission to query our escorts to see if their gunners require any beverages. Since our gunners obviously have plenty of free time, perhaps Kapitan Benedetti and his men can be useful in that capacity.”
Lombardi fought the urge to laugh. Instead, she shook her head remorsefully. “Come now, Tolya, it is not the kapitan’s fault the ‘Vic gunners are clearly superior.” She looked up at the wall screen, conveying a deep respect as Kite and Curator cleared the 5ls shell ahead of the fleet. The results of this exercise would be radically different from the results of the first. It was not difficult to expres
s admiration. “Amazing marksmanship,” she mumbled. “I wish I had a full squadron of them.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Benedetti turn back to his console and growl orders down his chain of command.
A comm request flashed on her chair arm console. It was Christova of Vaettir. “Yes, Komandor?” she greeted.
Christova looked to be in a foul mood. “Komandor, I am moving Vaettir three light-seconds closer to Kite. We are just sitting here.”
Vernay and Valokov’s fleet formation had intentionally placed Vaettir farthest from the Brevic ships, which also had the unfortunate effect of placing her in the best-protected location of the formation. The Brevics’ outstanding defensive fire had been so intense and accurate that Vaettir had only been able to fire her longer-ranged Issic heavy lasers. Lombardi shook her head. “No, Komandor. You will not break formation. Your ship is not an escort; let them do their jobs so we can do ours.”
Christova’s angry response came six seconds later. “Open your eyes, Isabella! No larger ships are here for us to fight. We do not have a job!” Christova shook in frustration. “I will not sail here idly and let the ‘Vics win this exercise. Vaettir is moving up. Christova out.”
Lombardi felt her hands ball into fists and she cast a sideways glance at Valokov. “Damn that man,” she spat.
Valokov leaned toward Lombardi and whispered, “At least encouraging this competition between the ships has been more helpful, yes?”
Lombardi looked up at the ceiling as she spoke. “Oh, yes. Instead of worrying if Christova will disobey my orders and attack the ‘Vics, now I only have to worry if Christova will disobey my orders and attack the aliens.” She raised both hands in the air in a gesture of futility. “That man is unbearable. No wonder he has been stuck with a Minotaur class light cruiser for so long. I would replace him but with who?”
Lombardi seethed in silence while she watched the tactical plot. Vaettir began to rotate and orient into a position to use her four large drives to push her closer to the fight.
