Hero of the Republic: (The Parasite Initiative, Book 1)

by Britt Ringel

  Praise from the captain did not stop at the MIS sections. Kessler exuberantly informed the members of both HAZ and LAZ sections that during the fleet’s energy engagement, which had just skimmed light laser range, the gunners of Lochaber had combined for forty-seven hits with seventeen confirmed, shield-penetrating shots. Their target, a Hollaran heavy cruiser, had exploded mid-pass, accounting for the three “missed” shots of the contest.

  Water beat down onto Twist’s smiling face as he relived his performance. Sure, I need to be faster on target tasking and fire confirmation but I did okay for my first time. Falk had heaped praise on his ensign after the battle while delicately pointing out that the gunners needed Twist’s final fire authorization to arrive faster. Twist had agreed immediately that it was an “improvement opportunity” as he knew he had been slow to approve each volley. The approval checklist is just too long but I’m required by regulations to consult it for each turret. How do the other weapons officers do it? He made a mental note to ask Holt before returning to the luxury of standing underneath a hot shower without a time constraint.

  After several more minutes, Twist switched off the water showerhead and toweled off in the tiny bathroom. He tidied up the shared compartment and stepped into his quarters. His roommate was once again absent. Holt had casually informed him that Ensign Kinnley was currently in the throes of true love with a junior lieutenant from Navigation and spent every off-duty minute with her.

  Grabbing a pair of orange shorts, he made a second mental note to ask Holt what people wore when off-duty. He had only his gear from OTS but knew that wearing the bright orange of Squadron 3 outside his room would look silly. None of that mattered tonight though, as he intended to settle down for the evening and attempt to pare down the long checklists he had created the night before.

  He had barely sat on his bed when his desk computer console woke from sleep mode and chimed. He rose and accepted the comm request. An able spaceman appeared on the screen.

  “Sir, this is Sensorman Gage. You have a conference request from an Ensign Kirkpatrick on Determined.”

  Twist’s face lit up instantly. “Put him through!”

  Gage’s nose wrinkled in amusement at his reaction. The E-3 looked down at her console and said, “Coming through now, sir. Good night.”

  Twist’s screen blinked, replacing the young enlisted woman with a more familiar face.

  “Hey, hotshot!” Kirkpatrick greeted.

  “Vix!” Twist screamed louder than was necessary. “How’ve you been?”

  Twist waited impatiently as the question hurled toward Determined at the speed of light. Kirkpatrick’s reply arrived shortly.

  “Real good, man. Although not as good as you, I’m guessing. Lochaber did really great last exercise!”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “Hey,” Kirkpatrick replied when it was apparent Twist did not finish his sentence. “Take credit when you deserve it. Just wait until Determined takes some damage and Admiral Johnston talks about how the damage control teams were expertly led by young Ensign Kirkpatrick.”

  Twist felt his eyebrows arch upward. “You’re leading an Ops team?”

  Kirkpatrick shrugged. “Well, not so much leading as shadowing. I can’t actually lead one until I go through tech school and qualify as a firefighter and med-tech. However, I’m also the assistant to our Operations commander and the liaison between Ops and the marine contingent aboard Determined.”

  “Important stuff,” Twist noted.

  Kirkpatrick nodded vehemently and grinned. “But not nearly as important as the big question.”

  “Which is?”

  “Is your sponsor female? And if so, is she cute?”

  * * *

  Overnight the task group returned to a high orbit around Pan. The bright, white planet stood out as a beacon in the darkness of space on Twist’s wall screen. It was late morning and he was basking in the glory of resting under warm covers while he stared at the frozen planet.

  In return for the excellent exercise results, Johnston had granted the entire task group a twenty-four hour rest, timed to coincide with the anticipated arrival of Task Group 3.1. Word had reached Sponde that the delay had been resolved and Third Fleet’s sole carrier task group would arrive within thirty-six hours. The news was met with great anticipation. Task Group 3.1 held the most technologically advanced ships in the Republic. The crown jewel of the group was obviously Avenger, capable of operating one hundred eighty fighter craft and thirty early warning scout shuttles from her six internal launch decks and twin recovery/launch decks located atop the enormous ship. Sailing with the heavy carrier was Eagle. The sleeker light carrier possessed but a single internal launch deck and a top recovery/launch deck but was still capable of operating a complement of sixty fighter craft.

  Task Group 3.1’s bleeding edge technology did not stop at the newly commissioned carriers. Defending the priceless assets was an escort squadron containing two of the new Buckler-class destroyer escorts. These DDEs, rushed from the shipyards, operated a new system called Cerberus that promised to revolutionize missile defense doctrine. Twist had heard his mother discuss the groundbreaking weapons system on multiple occasions, explaining how Cerberus would guarantee point defense superiority for future generations. He took comfort in knowing that TG 3.1’s awesome power would be augmenting their defense.

  Twist slipped a bare foot out from under his covers. The dorm rooms in OTS had always run cold and he had grown used to having a chill in the air. The cool ambient temperature of his quarters made the warmth of his bedsheets feel even more luxurious. He could stay in bed all day if he truly wanted. Lieutenant Chappell had ordered his entire subsection into a rotational skeleton crew and Falk had set the HAZ-1 schedule to take the first shift himself. The NCO’s generosity provided Twist with nearly a full day off-duty. The young officer appreciated the sentiment but his afternoon would consist mostly of reading weapons instructions and performing mental repetitions of combat checklists. With his mind fixed firmly on the study hours ahead, he rose from his bed to dress in a duty uniform.

  Ten minutes later, Twist navigated the seemingly endless passageways to the mess hall. He loaded his tray and found an empty table. The early lunch consisted of a hearty stew with some kind of meat and many vegetables. Twist had taken a double portion of bread to dunk into the steaming, thick sauce. Between bites, he reviewed Falk’s schedule to make sure it had not changed overnight.

  A boatswain’s call whistled over Lochaber’s main channel, ripping Twist’s attention from his datapad. After the last note played, Captain Kessler announced, “Attention, this is the captain. Fifty-six minutes ago, a Republic picket ship dove into Sponde from the Kale tunnel point. Her mission was to monitor space traffic in Kale and report any signs of Hollaran aggression.”

  Picket ships, fast and lightly armed destroyers with enhanced detection arrays, served as the eyes of the fleet. The standard picket’s mission was to orbit near a tunnel point and hold vigil inside a star system. When a starship activated its tunnel drive to transition into and out of tunnel space, the drive generated a tunnel effect disruption that was detectable throughout the system. Pickets spent most of their lives waiting for such disruptions and then used their powerful sensors to determine what kind of ship caused the disturbance. If a civilian ship created the tunnel effect, as was most often the case, the picket ship resumed its silent watch. However, when enemy warships were the culprits, fleet size appraisal became the picket’s next priority. If the destroyer’s captain believed the enemy fleet was of sufficient force to notify Republic upper echelons, the ship would dive out of the contested system and sail through the tunnel leading home.

  Kessler’s voice turned grim. “Seven days ago, Cupola detected and tracked an estimated twenty-two Hollaran warships. Because of the extreme range between the Sponde and Helike tunnel points inside of the Kale star system, Cupola could not identify exact classes within the Hollaran fleet but believes at least ten of the ship
s are heavy cruisers or larger. We are probably facing a very large Hollaran invasion force.”

  A nervous murmur broke out in the cafeteria. It cut off immediately when Kessler resumed. “Cupola estimates the invasion force will arrive anytime in the next seven to twenty-four hours. Admiral Johnston is holding an emergency meeting with group leadership in five minutes. Stand by for orders. Kessler out.”

  The cafeteria exploded into loud discussion. Dozens of spacemen immediately rose from their seats and rushed toward the tray deposit counter. Others just left their food trays where they lay and bolted for the door.

  Twist watched the chaos with a mild confusion. Yes, his heart rate was skyrocketing. Yes, he was somehow simultaneously breaking out into chills and hot flashes but the danger was at least seven hours away. Where are they going? Twist wondered. We don’t even have orders yet. He looked around the room and saw the only sailors remaining were NCOs.

  Twist’s datapad chimed. Falk was calling.

  “You heard, Ensign?” Falk’s voice somehow still managed to brim with authority over the tiny speakers.

  “Yup. I guess this means the schedule is out the airlock.”

  “Yeah,” Falk confirmed. “The admiral’s meeting will last around ten minutes while they decide what to do. Captain Kessler is good at down-channeling information so you might want to be in the fire control station within the next fifteen minutes. Once we get word about what we’re doing, Lieutenant Chappell will probably hold his own meeting to give us guidance on how he wants Haze to be manned.”

  “Are the carriers going to get here on time?” Twist knew it was silly to ask Falk but did anyway.

  “Hopefully but we can’t wait on them. I bet we break orbit within the next hour.”

  Twist looked down at his tray filled with food. He had lost his appetite. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  The connection closed. Now that the rush out of the mess hall was over, the NCOs were leaving at a more dignified pace. Twist took their actions as his cue and stood to join the line to return his tray.

  * * *

  Task Group 2.2 broke orbit at exactly 1320 hours Standard Brevic Military Time (SBMT). Word from fleet leadership was the task group would proceed to a designated location 25lm from the Kale tunnel point and hold. Lieutenant Chappell relayed the orders from Admiral Johnston that every ship in the group would begin crewing battle stations and ensure complete battle readiness. Once TG 2.2 arrived at the holding point, it would orbit in action stations.

  The HAZ subsection meeting took place in Lochaber’s main fire control compartment. The large room was the nexus of target control for the entire ship. In this room, the lieutenants of the heavy laser, light laser and missile departments received bridge orders from WEPS and doled out targeting tasks to each of their subsections.

  All three subsection commanders were holding their own departmental meetings, making for a crowded room. Chappell, Holt and Twist and their NCO counterparts huddled in one corner. There were only two chairs available for the six HAZ attendees. Chappell, who preferred to stand, had given the chairs to his junior officers.

  Twist sat in silent contemplation during the short meeting. With nothing to contribute and uncertain of what questions to ask, he relied upon Falk to act as the voice of HAZ-1. After Chappell explained Johnston’s orders, he quickly ran through the status of the entire heavy laser subsection, asking pointed questions to Holt about the lingering problems with Turret Romeo. Twist felt exposed and vulnerable during the Q&A, afraid that his commander would ask him the answer to a question he would not know or even understand. Mercifully, Falk answered for him but having the NCO speaking for his subsection made Twist feel inconsequential. He resolved to double his studies. The meeting broke with a sober reminder that the next battle would not be a drill.

  Now, sitting in the relative obscurity of his battle station and absent anything better to do, Twist nervously bit at the fingernail of his index finger. His entire subsection was ready and all of its equipment had been checked and rechecked. With help from Falk, Twist had initialized the tactical plot screen at his console but had rapidly grown bored with watching the seemingly immobile fleet symbol stuck on the otherwise blank screen. It’s like the tide, he thought. You never see it move but it does. He examined his fingernail. He had bitten it so short that his finger throbbed. Grumbling, he reached for the shocksuit glove resting next to his helmet and pulled it over his hand. Technically, taking his gloves and helmet off was in violation of regulations. The ship was at action stations. However, Falk explained that with no threat of imminent combat, minor deviations like the removal of gloves and helmets were typical. There was no Ship Exercise and Evaluation Team on the prowl this time.

  Falk also explained the current positioning of the fleet. Tunnel disturbances notwithstanding, a starship with standard military-grade optics could usually detect another ship out to 20lm. Although it was possible to locate ships farther than that distance, the odds of focusing delicate optical devices at precisely the correct location were minimal. Prevailing starship tunnel point defense doctrine was to orbit outside an invading fleet’s sensor range and leave the initial defense to the enormous fortresses or smaller outpost stations typically in close orbit of the anomalies. When an aggressor dove into a star system, the stationary citadels would conduct a furious, albeit short-lived defense, taking advantage of the brief disorientation suffered immediately following a tunnel dive. If the outright defense of the tunnel point failed, the mobile home fleet, still undetected, could engage at a time and place most favoring the defender.

  A boatswain’s call knocked Twist from thought. The main channel crackled to life and he thought he heard cheering behind Kessler’s words. “Attention Lochaber, Task Group Three-One’s tunnel disturbance has been detected and we’ve received a message from Admiral Hayes. Stand by.”

  Twist’s heart soared at the news. The knowledge that the potent carriers would be fighting alongside his task group helped dispel the cloud of doom that had settled on him.

  A gruff voice sounded over the main channel. “Greetings, Admiral Johnston, this is Admiral Hayes. By the authority of Brevic Naval Command, I am assuming command over all defense forces in Sponde. You retain command discretion over your task group until I have been made fully aware of the system’s situation. Contact me with a full status report immediately. Hayes out.”

  So much for Johnston, Twist thought. The blunt, often cruel-sounding edicts of command demanded a thick skin. Twist had liked Johnston and knew that the admiral would still maintain control over Task Group 2.2 but the new admiral had just made it abundantly clear who was in overall command. I hope this Admiral Hayes takes care of us as well as Johnston has. He shifted in his seat and looked again at the tactical plot. TG 2.2’s fleet symbol had made no discernable progress toward its hold position in the last dozen minutes. It’s going to be a long day.

  Six hours later, the Brevic chess pieces were in place. Both task groups were at relative rest under tight emissions control and with sailors at action stations. Task Group 3.1, centered on the two carriers and their six escorts, rested 25lm away from the Kale tunnel point and some 56lm away from Sponde’s star. Task Group 2.2 was also 25lm away from the Kale tunnel point but 10lm closer in-system.

  It was now 19:35 SBMT and as Twist’s stomach complained about his missed meal, he and Falk speculated that Hayes was keeping the two forces apart to create a classic “hammer and anvil” attack. One group would reveal itself to the invaders to draw their attack toward a wall that the other group would smash the enemy against. With the carriers recently out of construction and likely unknown to the Hollarans, Twist knew which task group would draw the unenviable duty of anvil and which would get the safer and flashier job of hammer.

  Twist’s tactical plot flashed with a rare update. Tiny white circles pulsed near the Kale tunnel point and radiated outward as they faded. At first, there were only two pulses. However, within seconds, that number increased rapidly to b
lanket that region of space.

  “Tunnel disturbances,” Twist called, pleased with himself for noticing before his NCO.

  Falk quickly sat up straight and grunted. “Yup, a lot of them.” He typed furiously at his console before giving up. “Damn, the captain isn’t letting the optical image out of the bridge.”

  The Bardiche-class command cruiser hosted an impressive array of sophisticated sensor equipment including a standard Naka-Fujita sensor suite and an APG-125D Huntsman optical platform. The Huntsman optics could deliver high-resolution images out to distances well over 25lm. Lochaber’s remarkable optics platform was almost certainly focused on the Kale tunnel point but whatever the bridge was witnessing, Captain Kessler did not want the majority of his crew to observe.

  Instead, Twist counted twelve blood-red ship symbols on the tactical plot as Lochaber’s sensor section worked to classify the enemy fleet’s composition. The largest ships were the easiest to identify. The first generic enemy symbols removed were replaced with the symbol of a dreadnaught followed by pairs of command cruisers and heavy cruisers. Two light cruisers appeared next, trailed by smaller destroyer and frigate symbols. Probably escorts, Twist guessed.

  Moments after identification, the symbols of an enemy command cruiser and heavy cruiser flashed. The command cruiser disappeared entirely. Is that it? Twist wondered. Did that ship just explode? The sterile plot offered no answers. Before he could ask Falk, the dreadnaught flickered briefly but stubbornly remained. Nearby, the crenulated Brevic defense fortress symbol winked from existence, taking the second heavy cruiser with it. Twist heard a groan behind him as the deeper meanings of the blinking icons settled in. My God, thousands of people are dying in a matter of seconds.

  The battle was unrelenting. The first Hollaran heavy cruiser and handfuls of lighter units stuttered briefly but only a light cruiser and destroyer vanished before the tunnel point’s final defense, a Brevic orbital outpost, was swept from the board.