The Merrimack Event (Shieldclads Book 1)

by David Tatum

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Rachel asked, still hoping that he wouldn’t have to work too hard.

  Chris sighed and shook his head. “Not unless you’ve got access to the storage bay of a tender.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Sorry. But if I can think of anyone who does, I’ll let you know.”

  “Rappaport seems pretty confident about getting those supplies. I don’t know how he could be, considering what we know about the Commodore, but he said something about getting Colonel Beccera involved. Maybe the Colonel has connections, somewhere,” Chris mused.

  “Maybe,” Rachel said doubtfully. From what she knew of him, she didn’t think the Colonel would have any connections that would matter, here, but the only other reason she could think for him to be involved was too outlandish. After all, the Wargame hadn’t officially started, yet, so who would he be raiding?

  CHAPTER XII

  EAS Chihuahua

  Chris knocked on the door for Jacques Rappaport’s office and went on in without waiting for a response. To his surprise, there was already a meeting going on between Rappaport and Colonel Beccera.

  “Ah, Mr. Desaix,” Rappaport began. “We were just talking about you. A bit surprised you came before we called, though.”

  “I wanted to ask about the supply problem. We’re about to run out of some important parts, so if we don’t get that equipment by tomorrow we’ll have to start fabricating them ourselves.”

  “That’s just what Mr. Beccera and I wanted to discuss with you. Please, sit down. This is going to take a bit of explaining.”

  Chris did as Rappaport suggested, wondering just what was going on. “Do you have some news about our requisitions?”

  “I do, indeed,” Rappaport said, smiling like a shark. “Here, take a look.”

  He handed Chris a hand-comp with a list on it. After checking through the list for a minute, Chris frowned. “This isn’t even close to what we need! We might get another day or two’s leeway with it, but we might as well start fabrication now because we’ll need those parts eventually, anyway.”

  “I know,” the chief engineer said, still smirking.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Chris said.

  “Just a plan we’ve been working on to get those supplies,” Rappaport answered. “Care to fill him in, Mr. Beccera?”

  “Thanks to that friend of yours, Ms. Katz, we were able to get in touch with a contact on board the tender Don Quixote. He can give us the access codes to the main supply room,” Beccera began.

  I was joking, Rache. But thanks for coming through, Chris thought. “Okay, but what good would that do us?” His eyes narrowed as he thought about it. “Or are you planning a raid?”

  “Got it in one,” Beccera answered. “I figure we can get five minutes before security will notice our presence and send down forces to stop us, but I’m going to need someone to come along with me who knows exactly what we need. I’m told only you or Mr. Rappaport could do that by sight, so I need at least one of you.”

  “I’ll go if I have to, Chris, but I’d like it if you went instead,” Rappaport said. “I think the mission would do you good. I can’t order you to go, though – this isn’t exactly in the rules, you know.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it, Jacques. Listen, Chris. Think hard about this. If we get caught, there’s a good chance we’ll get court-martialed.”

  Chris frowned. “I can’t say yes to that. I won’t say no, either. In fact, I can’t exactly sit on this, now that I know we’re planning it. It’s not worth letting any of the people here get thrown out of the Navy just to get a ship ready for a simple war-game. I’ve got to talk to someone about this.”

  Jacques’ eyes widened. From the records, Chris seemed to be relaxed enough on the letter of the law that he would accept this kind of job as necessary. Now, if he carried through with his threat, they couldn’t enact the plan at all. “Mr. Desaix, please, reconsider...”

  Chris shook his head. “I said I won’t sit on this. I didn’t say I wouldn’t take part in the action, however.” He looked Rappaport straight in the eyes. “I’d like to schedule a shuttle flight to the Don Quixote. I want to talk to Captain Anne Morrison – one of the observers and my tactics class’ teacher – and I’d rather not have that conversation over the comm system. I’m pretty sure that if we asked if some of our Marines could perform a small exercise in infiltration and detection, she’d be glad to make use of our services.”

  Rappaport blinked. “What?”

  “He means he’s going to talk his teacher into covering our asses,” Beccera grinned.

  “Exactly,” Chris said. “If I won’t get thrown out of the Academy for this, I’ll gladly take the job.”

  There was silence as Rappaport weighed the idea, staring intently into Chris’ face. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll have a gap in the shuttle schedule in about forty-five minutes. You can take her out to see the observers then.” He paused. “I just hope I don’t regret this.”

  ——————————

  “Let me get this straight,” Captain Morrison said. “You want my permission to steal supplies from this tender?”

  Chris nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

  “Under the guise of a training exercise?”

  “Yes.”

  Morrison nodded with surprising calm. “And just how badly do you need these supplies?”

  “If we don’t get them, we won’t be able to get the Chihuahua commissioned until after the Wargame is half over. With them, we’ll finish well ahead of time.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I think I understand the situation. Let me talk to Admiral Mumford about this. I don’t have the authority to allow this, but he might. And he can go over Green’s head, if necessary.”

  Chris nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She nodded. “By the way, how’s the crew we assembled shaping up so far?”

  “It’s still too early to tell,” Chris said. “Some of my fears were confirmed about one or two of them. I won’t mention names, but there are a few people who’ve been at the top of their class in engineering theory but who get too bogged down in the details in real life situations. Likewise, I’ve found a few enlisted people who would make better officers than I do. I’ve kept close contact with Rache, Wolf, and Lauren Weber since the party, and all three of them seem to be a cut above on the job.”

  Morrison gave him a questioning eyebrow. “Anyone there you wish you’d left off of your list entirely?”

  “Not exactly,” Chris said. “There are a few people who I wish we’d never given any authority to, and one person – Jonathan Rosebaugh – who, though knowledgeable, should be locked up for his and our safety. I suppose we’ve got a good crew, overall.”

  Morrison nodded. She had hoped he’d take the opportunity to discuss the lounge incident with her, but he hadn’t. “Okay, Mr. Desaix. Thank you for the gossip, but I need to go schedule a meeting with the Admiral.”

  “Thanks,” Chris said.

  She got up and left the room. Chris sighed, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. “Like I thought, we’ll get permission.”

  “How do you know?” Beccera, who had accompanied him, asked curiously. “The Admiral still hasn’t had his say, yet.”

  Chris shrugged. “She wouldn’t have bothered meeting with Admiral Mumford if she didn’t know he’d say yes. Looks like we’d better start planning this little exercise.”

  “I already have it planned,” Beccera laughed.

  “I would like a chance to see the plans, first, though. I don’t want to get ‘killed’ before the Wargame even begins.”

  Beccera pulled out a data cartridge. “Here. I figured she would ask to see the plans herself before she gave approval to the idea. You might as well use the time we’re waiting to read them.”

  “Thanks,” Chris said, slipping the cartridge into his hand-comp. He spent a few minutes going through the file, a frown growing on his face as he
read. “This won’t work.”

  “What?” Beccera asked. He knew he wasn’t entirely familiar with shipboard combat, but his Marines had checked its feasibility for him.

  “Well, maybe that’s a bit strong,” Chris corrected himself. “But I don’t particularly like our chances with this plan. I think we should go in wearing our helmets in airtight position from the start – no sense in losing someone when they flash the lights to indicate the air’s gone for sake of a moment’s discomfort. Also, you’re relying too much on surprise. Surprise is always a very good thing to have, but you can’t afford to rely on it too much. But the real kicker is this.” He pointed to a highlighted map on the screen. “In order to maximize your chance of surprise, you’re taking this entry point. It may prevent the easiest form of detection, but it lengthens the time we could be under fire significantly, and it doesn’t hide us from several other forms of detection.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Beccera said, looking speculatively at Chris.

  “Let’s not bother worrying too much about hiding ourselves once we’re on the Don Quixote. We’re inevitably going to be detected at some point, no matter what we do – and once we’re detected, we’ll have five minutes to finish our job and get out of there, at most – so we’re better off minimizing how long it takes to get the cargo from the hold into our transport. We just disguise our shuttle, which you were already planning to do, and come in right at the freight-management equipped shuttle bay. We speed up the transfer of cargo, and we’re placing ourselves further away from the bulk of the ship’s on-board security forces.”

  “I agree with that, in theory,” Beccera said. “I’ve raided a few supply depots before, and I know it’s usually preferable to cut the distance you’ll be carrying the supplies. But I’m not sure that’s true in this instance. From what Mr. Rappaport says, we need more than five minutes to get all the supplies we need. I was trying to increase the amount of time we have to go through that supply room. Security is three minutes away from the airlock in our plans; it only takes three minutes more to get the cargo from that storage area to the shuttle than it would to go through the freight-equipped bay.”

  “That leaves no margin for error, though. Don’t tell me that an Army officer with more than thirty years experience is completely discounting Murphy’s Law?”

  “No,” Beccera replied. “But Murphy can screw us just as much wherever we go in.”

  “True,” Chris said. “But there aren’t as many things he can do once we already spoil it for him. Just crash the party, send the ship into confusion, and grab everything we can.” He paused. “If we had another shuttle feint a separate raid, wouldn’t that be better?”

  “Well, yes,” Beccera said. “But we don’t have another shuttle, so that’s out of the question.”

  “What if we could make them think we had another shuttle?” Chris asked. “Get security running to take care of a threat on the other side of the ship. That would extend our time by a few minutes.”

  “How?” Beccera asked.

  “Well, we’ll need to add someone else to the team – Yannis Langer. He was a computer specialist even before he joined the Academy, and he’s even better at it now. We can send him aboard the Don Quixote on some pretense and have him throw the computers for a loop before we even get there. Once he gives the word, we move on into the docking bay and get things done, there. He’ll be able to cover his own tracks, and we’ll make Murphy’s job that much harder for him.”

  Beccera frowned thoughtfully. “How good is Langer?”

  “He hacks into the Academy mainframe on a regular basis without detection,” Chris said. “I don’t know of anyone else who can do that, though. Those things are locked up tight.”

  Beccera raised an eyebrow. “And just why does he break into the mainframe? Does he change his grades or something?”

  It was only then that Chris realized what he had admitted to. “Um, no, he doesn’t need to. He does nothing which violates academic ethics. Besides, the grades are kept on a separate system, even if he tried. He has been known to snatch certain people’s sealed personnel records, though. Rache thinks I don’t know, but she used him to look me up one day.”

  “Hmm,” Beccera said. “I suppose we can overlook that admission, since we have no evidence outside of your word. But I would suggest that you make sure Langer is willing to help us with this.”

  Chris nodded. “I don’t know him too well, but I’m pretty sure he will be.”

  “By the way, why was Rachel checking out your sealed records?” Beccera said, curious. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would violate regulations like that.”

  “She was the one who got us the access codes, wasn’t she?” Chris countered. “She’s just full of surprises.”

  ——————————

  “Just how did you get those access codes, anyway?” Chris asked at dinner that night.

  “Oh,” Rachel began, wiping her lips. It was the first dinner they’d been able to have together since the antigravity system had been activated, and she’d found she’d gotten used to eating in a zero G environment a little too well. She actually struggled with some of her utensils, and she was dripping food on her uniform periodically. Still, it was worth it just to have good food once more. Too bad the standard issue rations weren’t exactly ‘good food.’ “One of the regular Navy officers on board the Don Quixote used to work with my parents in the Orbital Guard. As it happens, he had access to the supply rooms and was willing to give me the access codes. I owe him a bottle of whiskey when we get back to Earth, though.”

  “I’ll gladly pay for it if this all works out. It’ll be well worth it,” Chris suggested.

  “So will having you not wear yourself out fabricating the needed parts,” Rachel retorted. “And I’m the one who made the deal, so I’ll take care of the purchase. Besides, I’m as anxious to be part of the Wargame as you are.”

  “How about we split the cost?” Chris said. “I’d feel guilty otherwise.”

  “Well, if you insist,” Rachel said airily, having no intention of splitting the cost at all. “So, how’s the refit coming, otherwise? I must say, I was glad when the gravity came on and I could finally take off my magnetic boots.”

  “It was entirely thanks to Linda we got the gravity working last night,” Chris noted. “Evans would’ve spent another several days fine-tuning it. Linda pointed out that most of the things he wanted to do were best done after it was activated.”

  “Well, we all knew Evans was much more of a theorist than a practical engineer when we made up the crew lists,” Rachel mused. “I suspect he’ll probably be placed somewhere in Research and Development when he graduates – with the reports he must be getting, Personnel should know to leave him off of shipboard assignments.”

  “He’d probably be good at R&D,” Chris agreed. “But that doesn’t help us, now, does it?”

  “Is anyone else giving you any trouble?” Rachel asked. “I know we were given a pretty good crew, at least on paper. Paper doesn’t always translate into results, however.”

  Chris smirked. “Just Jonathan Rosebaugh,” he said. “And his problem is more that he’s a complete and total klutz than anything else. He’s an asset to any team when he’s not dropping his tools into the delicate wiring.”

  Rachel winced. “I heard he’s managed to do that twice, already.”

  “Three times,” Chris corrected. “That we know of. The first time was during the initial survey, but most people didn’t start counting until the atmospheric controls were set up and the crew came on board. He’s only done it twice, since then.”

  “He sounds as bad as you feared,” Rachel noticed.

  “He is,” Chris said. “In fact, most of my worst fears about these people are coming true. Wayne’s too technical-minded, Jon’s too much of a klutz, and so on. You’re actually one of the few bright spots – I was afraid you’d be as stuck-up about things like saluting as you are in the Acad
emy, but you seem a lot more relaxed than I thought you’d be.”

  “Me? Stuck-up?” Rachel said, a little hurt. “Is that what you really think of me?”

  Chris sighed. “Not really. I always knew that if you were really as stuck up as you acted, you really would have reported me for insubordination like you always threatened to during our arguments. You just seem a little... overly concerned about proper uniforms, saying ‘sir’ all the time, things like that. I never would have thought you’d be as lax on the rules as you have been recently. I would’ve figured you’d protest a raid like the one we’re planning, but instead you helped initiate it.”

  Rachel felt relieved. “I’ve always been more relaxed on the rules than you seem to think. But I also think you had better start following a few more of the customs of the Navy. In the future you might not always people quite as reasonable as your teachers and Captain Burkhard have been when you’ve forgotten to address them properly. One of your superiors might decide to throw you in the brig for insubordination if you keep doing that.”

  “I’m too busy to remember things like that!” Chris protested. “I haven’t heard many complaints.”

  His companion raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard many complaints? Doesn’t that mean you’ve heard some?”

  “Just a couple,” Chris said. “And they weren’t really serious or anything – mostly just teasing. And you’ve been the one to make half of them!”

  Rachel let her head fall into her hands. “What am I going to do with you, Chris?”

  “I dunno,” Chris said, lips twitching with restrained laughter. “But I suspect you’ll figure something out.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed contentedly. “So, how is your job in Waste Recycling going?”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” she said. She hoped she was convincing, but it was hard not to feel her mood shift at the question. “It’s just a little boring.”

  Chris frowned. “You sure that’s all you’ve got to say about it? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”