by Gary Beller
“Sounds good to me,” I said with a smile.
Chapter 6
Karissa and I finished lunch and walked around the station, trying to come up with some way to spend our brief period of liberty. We passed the dry-dock area and found an observation deck overlooking the Armstrong.
“Doesn’t look like the damage was all that bad.” Karissa said with a shrug.
“No, not really. The Roberts looks like she took a
beating, though.” I replied. Samuel B. Roberts was one of
the Armstrong’s sister-ships, although from the amount of
battle damage she had sustained, it might have been hard
to tell.
A pair of work-pods, essentially small shuttle craft
designed to do repair work on starships, were standing by
while a crane moved above the Roberts. The crane used a
graviton tractor beam to move heavy components, and was
positioning itself to remove a damaged gun mount from
the ship. Once the beam was locked on, the two work-pods
approached and used robotic arms to disconnect the turret
from the ship.
Once removed, the crane and its load moved past
our observation deck. The normally round gun mount’s upper housing was almost entirely gone. The left barrel was bent midway down its length, while the right barrel looked to have been knocked totally off its mounting structure. The barbette, the portion of the turret that
extended into the hull of the ship, looked intact, though. “They got lucky,” A voice behind us said. Karissa and I turned and saw a Navy Captain
standing behind us, watching. We both snapped to
attention.
“At ease, Midshipmen.” The officer said. “You see
that sphere on the lower part of the barbette?” He asked. “Yes, Sir.” I said.
“That’s the power core for the mount. It’s a small
fusion reactor.” He said.
“Why have it on the gun mount, Sir?” Karissa
asked.
“It’s a matter of redundancy. The ship can run its
weapons off the main reactors located in engineering, but
if those reactors are damaged or the power relays are
knocked out, you lose the ability to use your weapons. So,
each gun mount has its own power supply. Even if the ship
loses main power, she can still defend herself. And those reactors can be used to keep important systems like life
support online.” The Captain explained.
“Seems like a no-brainer.” I said.
“A no-brainer that took sixty years to figure out.”
He said.
“Sir,” Karissa asked, “Are you assigned to the
station?”
“No. My ship just arrived for repairs, actually.” He
said, “She’s in the next dry-dock. What’s your names?” “Midshipman Jackson Ebert,” I replied. “Midshipman Karissa Clairemont.” Karissa
replied.
“I’m Captain Dylan Blake, UCSS Chancellorsville
is my ship.”
“Chancellorsville?” I asked, “Named after the
Battle of Chancellorsville?”
“Indeed. You know your history, Mister Ebert.”
Captain Blake said.
“I do like history. During Plebe Summer we did a
ruck march through the battlefield at Chancellorsville.” I
replied.
“It’s a good place to visit. Before I took command,
I stopped by the battlefield. When we’re not deployed in the warzone, my crew participates in memorials and
events there.”
“That’s cool.” I said.
Captain Blake talked with us a few more minutes,
before he was paged to return to his ship. Karissa and I
headed back to the Promenade area and were walking
around when a trio of enlisted Marines passed us. At first
one of the Marines started to salute, but another Marine
corrected him. “Not the Plebes, Lance Corporal.” I looked over for a moment, nodding to the Marine,
and noticed the Lance Corporal in question looked
familiar. “Reyes?”
“Ebert?” He said, walking over.
“Made Lance Coolie already?” I asked him. “Yeah. How’s the Academy going?” He asked.
Reyes and I had been friends in High School and played
on the football team.
“It’s going good. We’re on our cruise right now.
Aboard the Armstrong.” I said.
“I was on one of the troop transports you guys are
escorting, saw the takedown on that Cruiser. Impressive!”
Reyes said, a smile on his face from ear to ear. “The ship’s company did all the work, I just
watched a sensor board.” I shrugged.
“Still gave you the Combat Action Ribbon for it.”
Reyes said. “Hey, we gotta catch a ship, good catching
up.” He said.
“Where you headed?”
Reyes held up his tablet, “Got orders to Alpha
Company, OneSeven, out of Starbase Leatherneck.” “Good luck, Brother.” I yelled as he ran to catch up
with his fellow Marines.
“That’s a tough assignment your friend has.” A
voice said behind me. I turned and saw Sergeant Raines. “How so, Sergeant?” Karissa asked.
“1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment is part of the 1st
Brigade, 1stMarine Division…They fight hard, and have
never lost a battle. But sometimes the cost gets pretty
steep.” Raines said.
“I don’t understand,” I said, “What do you mean?” “They tend to take heavier casualties than other
units. I was reading reports out of Chiodrick III, Alpha
Company had one platoon that was down to just twelve
Marines, led by a Corporal.” Raines said. A normal Marine
rifle platoon consisted of four squads of twelve, plus a platoon leader, assistant platoon leader and a platoon
sergeant.
Sergeant Raines apparently saw the gears clicking
in my head as I did the math. “That’s a lot of casualties.” “You’re telling me.” Raines said.
*** “ Hyper web,” Howie Vance said, adding the final letter onto the Scrabble board, playing off the word “Web” I had played in my last turn. “21…Double word score and double letter on the R, 43points.”
“Does Hyper webeven count?” Karissa asked. “It’s in the dictionary.” Howie said with a smug look.
“Yeah it counts.” Jenny Carillo said.
“Howie leads it with one-ten, Jenny, You’ve got fifty five, Jack has sixty and I have sixtytwo.” Karissa said.
I looked over the board and my letters. I played Sewing. “Double on the I, plus the Triple Word Score, 33 points.” I said.
“Still got you by 17, Jack.” Howie said, smile on his face making his hazel eyes shine.
“I’m on the comeback, Howie. I have not yet begun to Scrabble.”
“He keeps saying that word…” Jenny said with a chuckle, “I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
“What does it mean, then, Jen?” I asked.
“To scratch frantically.”
“Only time I’ve ever seen Jack ‘Scrabble’ then was after he ate the salmon sushi.” Howie said with a chuckle.
“Never knew I was allergic.” I said, pleading for help from the girls, who were too amused.
“It’s all good, Jack. Next time we’ll get you the Eel.”
“That just sounds gross.” Jen said.
“Actually it’s not bad.” Howie said.
“How did you become such a Sushi connoisseur, anyways?” Karissa asked Howie.
“My uncle is also a professor at UIC,
so he’d bring me along some times, and we’d get sushi for lunch.” Howie said.
“That’s cool.” I said.
Karissa played “Hope”, then looked up after recording her score.
***
Repairs were finished to the Armstrong by midday the following day. Once again on the bridge, I had the opportunity to give the orders taking us to the jump point.
“Helm, make your course one two nine, elevation eight nine.”
“One two nine by eight nine aye, Midshipman.”
The helmsman repeated.
“Mr. Ebert, we are clear of port speed limitations.”
Lieutenant Webb said.
“Aye, Lieutenant.” I said, then to the helmsman:
“Helm, speed restrictions are lifted. Ahead full.” “All ahead full aye.” The Helmsman repeated
again. The deck vibrated as the engines throttled up. “Not
wasting any time, Mr. Ebert.” The Captain said, her tone
not exactly a question, but also not quite a statement. “Just trying to catch up to the convoy, Captain.” I
said, explaining my command for ahead full.
“You made the right call, Midshipman. The
convoy will wait for us, but the Commodore doesn’t look
highly on ships dawdling.” Captain McCormick said. “Captain, may I ask a question?”
“Yes, Mr. Ebert.” McCormick said.
“The convoy is waiting for us, but not waiting for
the Samuel B. Roberts, why is that, Ma’am?”
“The damage to Roberts was more extensive than
originally thought. She’ll be patched up here as best they
can, and then make her way back to Earth.” McCormick
said.
Chapter 7
Two days out from the fleet anchorage, the Armstrong led the way into a star system for a course change. Captain McCormick had, despite the previous ambush, requested we remain on the front end of the Convoy.
“Anything on sensors?” She asked. Today I was manning the sensor station, with a Petty Officer supervising me. “No other ships present, reading some space debris.”
“Send to the convoy, all clear.” McCormick ordered.
A few moments later, the convoy arrived behind us, and we led the way through the course change. “Is this planet inhabited?” I asked as we passed close to a relatively Earth-like world.
“No intelligent species, but it is teaming with wildlife. Before the war we had a scientific station on the planet, investigating what Earth might have looked like before the development of humans.” McCormick said.
“That actually sounds like a cool assignment.” Karissa said from the Navigation station.
“Captain!” Lieutenant Webb yelled, from her post on the starboard side of the bridge.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Explosion on one of the freighters!”
“Mayday, Mayday!” A voice crackled over the Bridge’s speakers, “MV Starhopper has struck something, we’re losing main power, engines are offline and we’re being pulled in to the planet’s gravity.”
“Armstrong, this is Commodore Dewey, move to assist the Starhopper. Captain Dreyer, can you make damage control efforts?”
“Helm, come about on an intercept course, all ahead full. Bridge to Engineering, I need every bit of speed you can get us!” Captain McCormick said, then switching to Comms.
“Not before we fall into the atmosphere, Sir.” Dreyer responded.
“Then get your people out of there, Captain!” Dewey
“Armstrong to Starhopper, we’re coming.”
I looked up from the sensors to see the damaged freighter, burning as it spun towards the planet. Several small flashes were visible around its superstructure. “Escape pods are launching.” Lieutenant Webb said, confirming what I was thinking.
“Mr. Ebert, do you have a track on those pods?”
“Heading to the planet, Captain.”
“Standard practice for Merchant lifeboats,” Lieutenant Webb said, “They are programmed to find the closest lifesustaining planet and get to it.”
“So that means this is easy right?” I asked. “We send down a jumper and pick them up?”
“Not necessarily. We don’t know what they hit, but I am guessing it wasn’t space dust.” McCormick said.
“Ma’am?” I asked, unsure of what she meant.
“Anything big enough to cause that kind of damage would have registered on our sensors, which means the freighter can either avoid it or blast it out of the way. There’s only one thing in the universe that causes that kind of damage with so little sensor track.”
“Wait, you mean they hit a mine?”
“Banor Spatial Mines are small, but powerful. Usually they have antimatter warheads so their yield is far in excess of what their size would indicate. It also means they can be small enough not to register as a hazard on our sensors.”
“Captain,” The Communications Specialist spoke up, “Commodore Dewey just issued a Mine Avoidance alert. Any object baseball size and larger is to be navigated around or destroyed.”
“Sound General Quarters. Mr. Ebert, anything like that in our path?”
I looked at the Sensor panel, and the Petty Officer assisted me in shifting the focus. “I have two contacts. First contact is bearing 358 mark five nine relative, range two five zero kilometers. Second contact is bearing 000 mark one one, range four two seven kilometers.” I reported.
“Those are pretty small targets, Captain.” The Petty Officer said.
“Small, but not impossible. Activate Close in Weapons Systems.” McCormick said.
The Close in Weapons Systems, or CIWS (Pronounced See-Whiz), were small particle cannon mounts designed to handle small or fast moving threats less than five hundred kilometers distant. “Bridge, CIC. CIWS 1 has positive lock on Contact 1.”
“Engage at will.” Captain McCormick ordered.
Through the bridge viewports, I could see a stream of blue light coming from the bow. The weapon automatically adjusted its fire, until the device exploded.
Despite the distance and the small size of the mine, the explosion was visible with the naked eye on the bridge.
“Do you have a yield reading on that explosion?” McCormick asked me.
“Twenty-five megatons.” I reported.
”Starhopper must have detonated the mine from a distance, an explosion like that on the hull would have vaporized the ship.” The second mine detonated a moment later, as if punctuating the Captain’s statement. “We need a shore party. Lieutenant Webb, assemble a team.”
“Aye, Captain. But we haven’t conducted landing training with the new crew members.” She said.
“How many do you have qualified?” The Captain asked.
“Counting myself and Corpsmen Bronson and Tran, six.” She said. She straightened as if bracing for a dressing down.
“You have six?” The Captain asked, incredulous. “How many are recommended for this mission?”
“Not less than a dozen, Captain. Training was planned for this week.” Webb said.
“Alright. We’ll need volunteers with rifle qualifications.” McCormick said. “Lieutenant Speirs, ready both jumpers. Webb, find people.”
“I volunteer.” Sergeant Raines said behind me.
“I volunteer too.” I spoke up.
“Not a chance, Ebert.” Raines said.
“Wait a minute, Sergeant.” Captain McCormick said, “Midshipman Ebert, are you qualified with the M2157 Rifle?”
“Yes, Captain.” I said, snapping to attention as she addressed me.
“Sergeant Raines, take Mr. Ebert. It might be a good learning experience for him.”
Raines looked at me, then back to the Captain. “Aye, Ma’am.” He said, tapping me on the shoulder.
We walked into the armory a few moments later, the Sergeant checking out two rifles, helmets, tactical vests, and all the gear we would need. “Sergeant,” The Pet
ty Officer said, “You and the Midshipman will need to sign here.”
“I’ll sign for both,” Raines said, “He’s my responsibility.”
As we geared up, Sergeant Raines looked up at me. “Jackson,” He said, using my first name for the first time ever.
“Yes, Sergeant?” I asked.
“What made you volunteer?”
“I want to be a Marine, Sergeant. Can’t get better training than in the line of fire, right?”
“If you’re trying to get a leg up, you didn’t need to volunteer for this.” Raines said, pulling his helmet on. “Come on, kid.”
Chapter 8
“Just remember,” Raines said, looking at me, as the jumper lifted up off the flight deck, “Safety on till you have boots in the mud. Once the safety’s off, keep your booger hook off the bang switch until you see something that needs shooting.”
“Aye, Sergeant!” I said.
“No need to yell, Ebert. The comm system in your helmet is set to voice activated transmission. So we can all hear you just fine.” Raines said, keeping his tone even.
“You yell in my ear again you’ll be polishing my boots for the rest of the cruise.” One of the Petty Officers yelled
“Sorry.” I said.
“Alright, you lot. Button it up.” Webb said. “Pilot, lock onto the EPIRB.”
“Aye, Ma’am. Locking on.” The pilot said. Each escape pod broadcast an EPIRB, or Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, to make finding them easier.
The pilot hit a switch over his head. “Columbia, this is Eagle, We’ll take lead, follow us down, circle the LZ and check our backs before touchdown.”
“ Columbia reads, Eagle.”
***
Eagle set down among the cluster of escape pods. The Parachutes that allowed them to land safely had been cut free and were blowing across the prairie south of the landing zone. “Alright, everybody out.” Webb said, leading the way, her rifle up at her shoulder.
“Stay behind me, safety off.” Raines said, looking at me.
I flicked the safety off of my rifle, and followed behind the Sergeant. Already sweat was dripping down the back of my neck, and I could feel the dampness of my uniform around the tactical vest I wore. I was glad for a moment to be wearing gloves, otherwise the sweat of my palms would have made a firm grip on my weapon impossible.
“Get me two guys on each pod!” Webb said as I stepped off the ramp into the sunshine. “With me, Ebert.” Raines said. I felt a bit of a rush as I flicked my thumb, deactivating the safety and setting the weapon to singlefire.
