by Gary Beller
Raines was there. He gave me a thumbs up, and stepped
back.
I turned back to the sensors, and as I looked, one
of the torpedoes disappeared.
“Brace for Shock!” A voice said over the ship
wide, followed by the collision alarm. A moment later, the
deck bucked beneath my feet. I grabbed the console to
keep from being thrown out of my seat, fear washing over
me in that moment, expecting either the heat of an
explosion or the sudden cold of open space. Neither came
to pass.
“Report!” Webb yelled.
“Torpedo exploded 50 meters off the starboard
side, Ma’am.” One of the stations reported.
“Is the hull breached?” Webb asked.
“I’m showing an outer hull breach on the starboard
side, dorsal, aft of the warp collar. No pressure hull
penetration showing, Damage control teams going to
investigate now.” The crewman said.
“Ma’am, Starfighters are shifting to attack runs on
the cruisers.” A communications specialist reported. “Understood.” Webb said. “Guns, continue your
fire, the Starfighters will have to work around it, but stay
alert. Ebert, are all the enemy fighters destroyed?” “Yes, Ma’am,” I reported.
There was no response, so I hazarded a glance at
the board showing our course. Once again we had turned,
this time broadside to the cruisers. “Why did we turn like
that?” I asked.
“Brings our aft guns into the fight. Against those
cruisers we need all the firepower we can muster.”
Sergeant Raines said. That made sense, Armstrong could
now engage the cruisers with ten guns rather than six. “Lieutenant, we have a firing solution for
torpedoes.” A Petty Officer reported from the Weapons
alley.
“Bridge, CIC. Firing solution plotted for
Torpedoes.” Webb called over the intercom.
“CIC, Bridge, fire at will.” The Captain replied. “Tubes one through four, fire on standard spread.
And reload. Tubes five and six standby for follow-up
shot.” Webb ordered.
There was a small whizzing noise as each torpedo
was fired. On my sensor screen, I could see the weapons
clear the bow of the ship, then make sharp turns to bear on
their target. The cruiser attempted to match our earlier
maneuver, turning into the torpedoes. Our missiles stayed
on their course. “They’re gonna miss…” I said. “No they won’t, they are programmed to counter
that.” Webb replied. A moment later I saw the torpedoes
make a sudden turn, slamming into the cruiser. “Four confirmed hits.” The torpedo controller
reported. “Enemy cruiser is still maneuvering.” “Launch five and six.” Webb ordered.
A moment after we launched our weapons, the ship
shook violently, and for a moment the lights in the CIC
went out, and our screens flickered.
“Report!” Webb ordered.
“We’re hit, aft hull, in the engineering spaces. Hull
is breached, don’t know how badly yet.” One of the Petty
Officers replied.
“Main Engine two is offline.” Another reported. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to think
about the men and women who worked down there. One
of the other frigates turned into the cruiser we had been
firing on and made a pass, raking it with gunfire. They
came around, passing above our position, before turning
nose on to the cruiser. “What are they doing?” Karissa
asked.
“Screening us.” Webb said.
“CIC, Bridge,” The Captain’s voice came over the
intercom, “We’re pulling back towards the convoy.” “Understood, Bridge.” Webb replied.
An odd light flashed on the console of the officer
next to me. He pressed the button, and began talking over
his headset on what I presumed was a station-to-station
channel. He began typing something, then tapped Webb. She nodded, then waved Sergeant Raines over. Raines leaned over the officer’s shoulder and then took off out of
the CIC at a full sprint.
“That can’t be good.” Karissa said, quietly. I shook
my head, feeling a cold pit in my stomach.
“Engineering to Bridge,” I heard Ensign
Reymond’s voice, “We have fifty percent power restored
on Engine 2. Warp drive is online.”
“Bridge copies, Engineering.” Lieutenant
Priester’s voice came back. A moment later, I heard the
noise of torpedo launches again. “What…” I said,
confused. Then I recalled that the ship could launch
torpedoes against targets even while not aiming the
torpedo tubes at them. The technique was called an “Off-
Boresight” launch. The torpedoes travelled forward, then
turned towards the now-retreating enemy cruisers. I pulled
up the long range visual tracking, following the torpedoes. Karissa leaned in close, watching as our parting
shots closed in. the first torpedo slammed into the Banor
cruiser’s superstructure, blowing away its bridge, mast,
and throwing a main turret off. The second torpedo
punched through the holes left by previous torpedoes. Its detonation caused secondary explosions and broke the
cruiser in half.
“Standby for warp!” Priester’s voice said over the
ship wide.
In a flash, we accelerated to speeds well beyond
light.
Chapter 10
“What was Raines running for?” Karissa asked me in the passageway outside of the CIC.
“No clue, I couldn’t read the message.” I replied, the cold pit in my stomach still there. A few moments later, fear and dread burst to the surface as we entered the berthing area and found a group of Midshipmen praying.
“Ebert, come here.” Bielema said.
“Yes, Ma’am?” I replied, confused.
“Vance is in sickbay. And it’s not good. Shrapnel wounds and exposure.”
Karissa and I knew now why Sergeant Raines had left so quickly. “Can I go see him?” I asked.
“Wait for the Sergeant,” Bielema said. She was trying to hide the worry on her face, but she didn’t do a very good job of it.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I said.
I walked to my rack and sat down, alone. Howie Vance had been my roommate since day 1 at the Academy, and was the first Midshipman I could call a friend.
“Attention on Deck!” one of the Mids yelled.
I stood up and snapped to attention at the foot of my rack, on line with everyone else. Sergeant Raines stood silently at the entrance. “Everyone out here, form up in the bay” He said.
Everyone fell into formation and Sergeant Raines called us to attention. “Listen up.” He began, taking a deep breath. “We lost Vance. The doctors did everything they could, but his injuries were too severe.”
The news hit me hard. I felt like a black hole formed a cold, hard pit in my stomach and began chewing away at my heart.
“The Captain said a memorial service will be held tomorrow morning. Dress uniforms will be worn by Mids.” He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I need to see Ebert and Bielema, everyone else is dismissed. Until I can verify that Vance’s family has been notified, don’t mention it in your letters home.”
The Mids took a collective step back, and spun on their heels as they were dismissed. I walked up to the Sergeant, with Rachel standing next to me.
> “I know this has to be tough on both of you, but part of serving in a time of war is knowing that we will lose good people, and some of them will be our friends. Bielema, you’ve been through this before. The Mids will look to you for guidance.”
‘Yes, Sergeant.” She said, the same pain I felt inside reflected on her face.
“Ebert, I need to know right now. The past day and a half have been a hell of a ride for you, are you good to go?”
“Yes, Sergeant.” I said instinctively. There was doubt in the back of my mind if I really was good to go, but I felt in the moment that I had no choice.
“Alright. If either of you need to talk, my office is open. That goes for everyone.” Raines said. “Dismissed.” ***
Entering the Berthing space again, Derek Preston walked up to me. “What’s up, Press?” I asked him.
“Got a minute to talk, Jack?” He asked.
“Yeah, sure.” I said, leading him over to one of the tables.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“That should have been me, Jack.” Preston said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I was on the duty roster, I should have been in engineering today. Howie and I switched because I pulled a double watch last night.”
“Press, don’t beat yourself up.” I said. “Even if you had been in Engineering, who’s to say you would have been where he was? He was helping a Damage Control team. There’s no way of knowing that you would have been assigned to the same team.”
“You sure, Jack?” He said.
“Yeah. Take a deep breath. We’re all kind of messed up by this.”
“Yeah I suppose.” Preston said.
“You good?” I asked.
“Good as any of us are gonna get.” Preston said.
I returned to the center of the bay and sat on my rack. Suddenly the weight of everything came down on me.
I felt exhaustion set in. I realized the night before I hadn’t slept well. Back to back battles must have had everyone’s stress levels running high, and combining that with the loss of Howie, left me feeling like I was living a bad dream. My mouth felt as dry as cotton as the realization set in that my best friend really was gone.
I rolled out of my rack and grabbed a cup of cool water from the water cooler. “Jack.” A voice said behind me.
“Hey.” I said, feeling Karissa’s hand rub across my back. “You okay?” She asked.
“I’m…I dunnow.” I said, slumping against the bulkhead. I took a sip and let the water float in my mouth, moistening it before I swallowed. Karissa took the cup and set it on a table behind her, then wrapped me in her arms. I followed suit, holding her as she rested her head on my shoulder. I could feel dampness on my shoulder through my shirt, and I moved a hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. ***
The Ship’s company and midshipmen formed up in the launch bay, everyone in their dress blue uniforms. A small stage had been set up, with the Coalition flag hanging behind it, and a picture of Howie sitting on an easel occupying a place of honor.
Captain McCormick, Lieutenant Priester and Sergeant Raines took the stage.
One of the Chiefs stepped forward and saluted. “Captain, all hands are present and accounted for.”
Captain McCormick returned his salute. “Very well, Chief.” She said, and took the podium. She looked around the room, seemingly making eye contact with everyone.
“Captaining a warship was my dream since I was a young girl. In those days, I had no idea how many different roles a Captain truly played. At least not until my first Midshipman cruise. On such a cruise I had the privilege of seeing firsthand what until then I had only read about. Our cruise was fairly quiet, but on the last day the Captain had the privilege of performing an age old tradition. She officiated the marriage of one of her Spacers on that last day.”
“But being the Captain also brings with it more solemn duties, such as this. A few days ago, while inspecting the Engineering spaces, I had the chance to meet and talk with Midshipman Howard Vance, or Howie, as his friends called him. His focus at the Academy was Naval Engineering, and he had the aptitude for it. He knew the workings of the engine room, despite only having been aboard a short time. The day after my inspection, he even stood an overnight shift as Engineering Officer of the Watch, no small feat for a 4th Class Midshipman. Vance also told me he, too, wanted to become Captain one day, and have his own ship.” She took a moment, looking out at the assembled crew.
“Sadly, yesterday Midshipman Vance’s dreams were cut short. Midshipman Vance joined the rolls of our honored fallen. He answered his nation’s call to service, and in battle he gave the last full measure of devotion to his shipmates, to his family, and to the Coalition.”
“Midshipman Vance gave his life doing precisely what he wanted to be doing. When enemy fire damaged our hull, he went with a repair team to shore up the damaged sections. He stayed at his post, even as enemy fire continued to land, facing the danger but knowing that without the efforts of his team, the rest of the ship and crew would be imperiled. Midshipman Vance’s actions in the face of great personal danger reflected great credit upon himself and the Academy, and upheld the highest traditions of the naval service.”
Lieutenant Priester gave a signal, and a bagpiper in a ceremonial uniform began playing Amazing Grace. The music tugged at my emotions again, which I struggled to keep in check. I could see from the corner of my eyes that Karissa and Vin were having no better luck. Even from her post near the stage, Lieutenant Webb’s eyes looked damp.
The song finished and Sergeant Raines took the podium next to Lieutenant Priester. “One of the oldest traditions among Military and other uniformed services on the occasion of a fallen comrade is the final roll call.” Priester said. “Sergeant Raines, as the Detachment Commander for the Midshipmen, will conduct a final roll call.”
“Thank you, sir. Midshipmen, when I call your name, speak loud and quickly. Bielema.” Raines began.
“Here, Sergeant.”
“O’Malley.”
“Here, Sergeant.”
“Adams.”
“Here, Sergeant.”
It was a moment before he got to me. “Ebert.” He yelled.
“Here, Sergeant.” I replied sharply, and quickly he was down the line, finishing with Preston, Stanley, and Zepata…or so I thought.
“Vance.”
I wasn’t expecting to hear Howie’s name, and it startled me. The quiet that followed was haunting.
“Midshipman Vance.” Raines repeated, his voice booming.
Again, silence answered him. I clinched my eyes shut to stop the flow of tears.
“Midshipman Fourth Class Howard James Vance!” Raines said, louder this time, making the quiet that followed almost deafening by comparison. When the silence wasbroken, it wasn’t by words, but rather by the opening notes of Taps. With that, the flood gates opened and tears flowed freely
Chapter 11
The night after the memorial service was one of the worst nights of sleep I had gotten in my life. I tossed and turned until 0300, before getting up to use the head. Coming back to my rack, I looked up. The rack where Howie would have been sleeping was still immaculately made.
“Trouble sleeping, Mr. Ebert?” Raines asked, standing behind me.
“A bit.” I replied.
“Come with me.” He said, leading me to his office.
The Sergeant’s office was small, with just the basics: A desk, a few chairs, and a computer terminal. Raines sat down across from me, and looked up to the ceiling for a moment. “It’s not uncommon, Jack.”
“What’s that, Sergeant?” I asked.
“Having trouble sleeping,” He said, “After the week you’ve had. To be honest, I’ve never slept right after a firefight, or after losing a friend. Yeah, it happens, it’s the nature of our work, but it sucks, and it takes a toll.”
“So how do you get to sleep?” Jack asked.
“A lot of guys say alcohol or other stuff. It never
worked for me. Grab a book. Watch a movie. Something to distract you. If that doesn’t work, go to sickbay. They’ll have something.”
***
We arrived in orbit over the planet Koliath slightly behind schedule, due to the enemy raids. Once again, Captain McCormick was required to have the Armstrong pull into a dockyard for repairs, which she was not pleased about, not that she had many reasons to be happy lately anyways.
One person on the Armstrong who was happy was Lieutenant Webb. “Now entering orbit, Captain.” She said, she was trying to contain her excitement and hold together her bearing, but it still came through loud and clear.
“What’s the Lieutenant so excited about? Are we getting shore leave?” I asked one of the Petty Officers.
“Her husband is stationed on Starbase Leatherneck. This is only the second time in the last year she’s seen him.” The Petty Officer said.
“Feeling nosey a bit Mr. Ebert?” Lieutenant Webb asked.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I meant no disrespect.” I said, snapping to attention.
“I understand. Next time, ask me directly, please.” Webb replied.
“And don’t worry, Ebert, her bark is worse than her bite.” Captain McCormick said with a smile.
“Begging the Captain’s pardon, but I know some Banor soldiers who might disagree with you.” I said, hoping a joke wouldn’t get me in too much trouble. I was pleased to see Lieutenant Webb join the rest of the bridge crew in laughing.
As the laughter settled, the Petty Officer manning the communications station spoke up. “Captain, Orbital Traffic Control reports we are cleared to dock with Naval Station Koliath, repair bay 4 Delta.
“Extend our thanks, Petty Officer. Navigator, pull up the charts and give us a heading. Mr. Ebert, would you like to take the Conn?” She asked.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I said nervously.
“Step forward.” She said, standing next to me as I took a position in front of the bridge. “Once Nav gives us that heading, you’ll issue the course and speed orders to the Helm. It’s easy from this far out, but coming in closer it’s going to get slightly more difficult.” She warned.
“Understood, Ma’am.” I said.
“Conn, Navigation. NS Koliath is on heading 167 mark three one, twelve thousand kilometers distant.”
“Mr. Ebert, take us out.”
