Valor At Vauzlee

by DePrima, Thomas

  The couple walked along the concourse for a while, talking and looking in shop windows but not entering any of the still open stores, and it was almost midnight when Zane and Jenetta arrived back to the lobby of the BOQ.

  "I guess that I won't be seeing you again for a while," Zane said.

  "We should be back in about twelve months. As I said, this is to be the homeport for Prometheus, so I expect that we'll be returning here after our trip to Nordakia. I hope that you'll still be posted here."

  In an area of the lobby where they'd be unseen by passersby outside the BOQ, Zane put his hands on Jenetta's waist and pulled her gently to him. Her lack of even slight resistance conveyed the message that he should continue. With his left arm around her, he bent his head forward. She put her hands on his waist as she leaned her head back to look up into his eyes and they shared a long kiss, then separated, with Zane holding Jenetta's left hand in his right.

  "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Jen."

  "I enjoyed it as well, Zane. Goodnight.'

  "Goodnight."

  Lt. Commander Spence released her hand, turned, and walked away. Jenetta remained where she was and watched him go. As he reached the outer foyer, he paused and looked back. Jenetta smiled and waved. He returned her wave, and then continued on until he turned into the main thoroughfare and was lost from sight. She was filled with emotion as she turned towards the elevator. She wondered if this was what love was like.

  Jenetta slept peacefully, her dreams filled with images of Lt. Commander Zane Spence.

  * * *

  The flight bay observation room window offered Jenetta an unobstructed view of the small ship from the Vordoth as it arrived and docked. Jenetta was waiting at the bottom of the ramp as Gloria stepped out of the airlock and descended to the deck. The two women hugged like dear friends that hadn't seen each other in months, when in fact it hadn't even been a week. At five-foot nine-inches, Gloria was presently taller than Jenetta. The one-hundred-twenty-two pound brunette, with an athletically trim body, had an easy way of carrying herself and a quick smile that made her face glow. Her smile was, without question, her most defining physical attribute.

  When the Vordoth's captain was lost during an attack by Raiders, Gloria, in her official capacity as first officer, asked Jenetta to assume the role of captain. Although just an ensign at the time, Jenetta was the only Space Command officer on board the freighter. She had been trained at the Academy to command a ship under attack by hostile forces and the freighter crew desperately needed a leader with that skill just then. The unique tactics Jenetta employed as their captain successfully defended the ship, saving the freighter, its crew, and its cargo.

  The women spent the remainder of the morning and a not unsubstantial part of the afternoon browsing in the shops that lined the concourse walkways, pausing only long enough to eat a light lunch at one of the many quick-food restaurants. Just after 1600 hours they walked to Jenetta's quarters so she could drop off her packages before they boarded the shuttle to the Vordoth.

  Gravity in Operations Bay 2 was slowly increased as the small craft entered the Vordoth and settled onto the deck. As the enormous exterior hatch closed, Gloria engaged the magnetic skids to hold the craft firmly in place should gravity in the bay be decreased for other shuttle or tug operations. Rebecca Erikson, Charley Moresby, Leah Brewster, and Gunny Rondell watched impatiently from the observation room as the large compartment was pressurized. When the gauges moved into the green, they entered the bay and hurried to crowd around Jenetta as she emerged from the shuttle. She was immediately overwhelmed by their heartfelt congratulations for her promotion and medal honors. As a group, they all walked to the officer's lounge where they talked and laughed, as good friends do, until dinner was ready in the officer's mess.

  Anthony, the gaunt, five-foot seven-inch officer's mess attendant with sandy hair and a permanent smile, had outdone himself with a combination of fresh and synthesized food, and the meal was almost as good as that served to Jenetta at Gregory's. After receiving the almost hijacked shipment of wine from the Sebastian colony, the grateful merchant gave Gloria several cases of the beverage. She brought out two bottles for the party. Jenetta limited herself to one glass at dinner, and one later in the lounge. She didn't want to risk being inflicted with the slightest impairment when she reported aboard the Prometheus in the morning. Mikel Arneu, the Raider commandant of the base where Jenetta's DNA was altered, had told her that she would become increasingly impervious to the effects of alcohol, but this wasn't the time to test his averment.

  "I wish that we could attend the medal ceremony," Gloria said as they relaxed in the officers' lounge following their meal.

  "I'd love for you to be there so you could share the moment with me," Jenetta said, smiling, "but I know that you can't take eight months or more off just to come to Earth to see me get a small chunk of metal pinned on my chest. I'm sure that the ceremony will be covered by the press."

  "You can be damn sure of that," Gunny said. With his close cropped haircut, Gunny Rondell, a retired Space Marine Gunnery Sergeant who had just celebrated his fifty-seventh birthday, looked like your stereotypical Marine noncom. Standing about six-foot four-inches tall, he was still able to handle any three ordinary men stupid enough to take him on. He'd never had an opportunity to attend such a ceremony in person, but he'd seen one on a vid feed while posted aboard a GSC battleship. "It's been about twenty-seven years since the last MOH was awarded. I was just a PFC at the time, but I remember seeing the event on the ship's closed circuit vid. The Marine, I can't recall his name— Stephen something, risked his life to save a dozen of his fellows after their assault transport crashed during a training exercise on a planet in the Centrasia system. He had lost part of a hand in the crash, and been terribly disfigured by fire, but he kept running back into the small ship and dragging other Marines out until the fire got so bad that he couldn't get in anymore."

  "That's true heroism," Jenetta said somberly. "Your story makes me feel guilty about getting the medal."

  "Don't be ridiculous!" Leah said emphatically. Just twenty-seven-years-old, Leah Brewster, looked like a professional model. Six-feet-tall, with a glossy black mane of hair that fell almost to her waist, she exuded sexiness. She was also hopelessly in love with Gunny. "He only saved a dozen. You saved fifty of us. I'd be on my way to a slave brothel right now if you hadn't rescued me. And the others would either be headed for brothels, or slave labor camps on some miserable mining planet. You deserve the medal as much or more than anyone who has ever received it."

  "And thanks to your efforts," Rebecca, the five-foot seven-inch ship's doctor, said, "Raider activity in this part of space has all but disappeared. Thousands, tens of thousands, of people are now traveling in safety." The attractive thirty-six-year-old brunette had been the one that awakened Jenetta after her life pod was recovered by the Vordoth crew.

  "And the Galactic Alliance recouped the two battleships stolen from the Mars shipyard just days before they were to be turned over to Space Command," Charlie said. "I shudder to think what destruction those ships would have wrought in the hands of the Raiders." Moresby, at forty, was the Chief Engineer aboard the Vordoth. Of average height, with rugged good looks, he was that special person in Rebecca Erikson's life.

  "And let's not forget that Jen saved both the Vordoth, and a Nordakian convoy on a desperate mercy mission to Obotymot," Gloria said. "Without those supplies, many thousands of Nordakians would have died before another convoy could be sent. Just because you weren't injured, doesn't mean that you deserve the medal any less than anyone else who has received it, even those to whom it was awarded posthumously."

  "But Jen was injured," Rebecca said. "She suffered a broken arm while retaking the Prometheus. And then there was the torture and near starvation she endured at the hands of sadistic guards in the Raider Detention Center. And we can't forget the extremely painful DNA alterations that were performed on her, and which are still giving her problem
s."

  "That's right!" Gloria said firmly. "So let's not hear anymore of this foolishness that you don't deserve the medals and other honors simply because you didn't repeatedly rush into a burning transport ship."

  Jenetta smiled. "The best thing that I've gotten out of all this— is five wonderful friends."

  At 2200 hours Gloria and Jenetta made the trip back to the space station, a Vordoth crewman piloting the shuttle because Gloria had imbibed sufficient wine to make her flying skills unsure.

  The massive space station was a beautiful sight. Easily visible to the naked eye from the planet below, the station resembled an oval-cut, blue opal gemstone, surrounded by a sixty-kilometer long silver necklace. The necklace was the docking ring, of course, where dozens of massive ships could be docked with the station simultaneously. Roadway tunnels, connecting the station to the docking ring, appeared like spokes in a wheel.

  The standard method of appending loaded cargo link sections to the rear of a freighter obviates the need for it to dock directly with a station. Although cargo is always accessible for inspection, it can't easily be offloaded through a freighter, except for the small, single hull ships or the gargantuan Space Command Quartermaster vessels, so space around the station was currently dotted with dozens of commercial freighters of various lengths. A few, those who had either just arrived or were preparing to depart, were maxed out at the legal length of ten-kilometers, but most were either having their cargo sections assembled or disassembled in preparation for their next run. Several enormous cargo ‘farms,' filled with link sections containing cargo in transit, floated a few hundred kilometers from the station, and some captains parked their vessels near one of them while loading or unloading, but most preferred to position vessels near the station so that crew members could enjoy liberty time within easy commutation distance. An entire ten kilometer long cargo section could be assembled at one of the farms and then towed to the freighter as one piece by company employees permanently stationed in civilian quarters aboard the station, or on lodging barges. So the main ship need never travel until it was time to depart the area.

  Once inside the station, Gloria and Jenetta said their goodbyes. They hugged, promised to keep in touch, and then Gloria left. Jenetta watched until the shuttle disappeared from view, then returned sadly to the BOQ. She wondered when, or even if, she would see Gloria and her other friends aboard the Vordoth again.

  ‘A life in space is so difficult on both romances and friendships,' she murmured.

  She wouldn't have much time to dwell upon it though. Tomorrow she would report for her new posting as second officer of the GSC battleship Prometheus.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  ~ February 22nd, 2268 ~

  At 0600 hours Jenetta released the handle of her packed spacechest and allowed it to settle gently to the deck just inside the entrance of her BOQ quarters. Her smaller cases were stacked on top The ‘oh-gee' capability of the large spacechest was more than adequate to lift anything she had to move. Housing would see that her possessions were picked up and delivered to the ship sometime during the day.

  She remembered to call the base hospital and leave a message for Doctor Freidlander, informing him that she was shipping out. She thanked him for making the arrangements to grow skin for a graft that would cover the indelible mark imprinted on her chest, and apologized for the wasted effort. While the skin graft was important, nothing in the galaxy was more important to her than being aboard the Prometheus when it departed Higgins Space Command Base.

  After enjoying a satiating breakfast at the officer's mess, Jenetta headed for the docking pier where the Prometheus was moored.

  Two armed Space Marine sentries at the airlock entrance to the forward cargo hold braced sharply to attention as Jenetta approached. Word of her new posting had obviously preceded her. Her current celebrity meant that the OD, a young lieutenant(jg), didn't have to ask what business she had aboard ship as he gave permission for her to cross the airlock threshold. Nor did he feel compelled to see proof of identification. Her face would be immediately recognized by anyone at the space station.

  As she entered the ship, it felt like she was coming home. The dull, recycled, and odorless air of the forward cargo bay could never smell more invigorating to anyone, she thought as she breathed deeply. Her months as captain aboard this incredibly powerful warship had instilled incredibly deep feelings in her. She couldn't think of a single posting in the entire galaxy that she would rather have, unless it was either as first officer or captain of the Prometheus. After being passed, she headed directly for the bridge.

  Two Marine sentries, a PFC at the entrance to the bridge corridor, and a Lance Corporal outside the Captain's Quarters smartened their stance as she approached and passed them. Neither challenged her as she proceeded towards the entrance of the bridge.

  As she moved within range of the portal activation sensor, the double doors slid open to reveal the ship's fourteen-meter by twelve-meter command center. The presence of only four individuals immediately reminded Jenetta of the day she had seized control of this ship at the Raider base. She paused briefly to glance at the commissioning plaque on the wall just inside the entrance and saw, to her great delight, that ‘Jenetta Alicia Carver, Ensign' had been inscribed as the first captain of the ship. In appreciation for her recovery of this vessel and its sister ship the Chiron, she would forever be officially recognized as the first captain of the Prometheus. It was an incredible honor. In the entire history of the service, no other ensign, indeed no officer below the rank of commander, had captained an active duty battleship.

  Immediately beneath her name had been inscribed the name of the warship's new commanding officer, ‘Lawrence Frederick Gavin, Captain.' A lieutenant sitting at the astrogation station, stood, straightened his tunic, and approached Jenetta as she gazed at the plaque.

  "Welcome aboard, Commander Carver."

  Turning to face the young officer, she smiled and said, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm delighted to be aboard. Is the Captain here?"

  "Yes ma'am. He's in his briefing room."

  "Thank you," she said as she took one more furtive glance over her shoulder at the commissioning plaque.

  As she had done hundreds of times before, Jenetta crossed to the captain's enormous briefing room on the larboard side of the bridge. But this time the doors didn't open automatically. Instead, after satisfactorily identifying her by polling her CT, the computer announced her presence to the captain. The doors opened to admit her only when he said, "Come," from inside the room. The command, spoken to the computer interface, was broadcast to Jenetta via her CT.

  Jenetta entered, continued over to a wooden desk that seemed large enough to alternate as a landing pad for a space tug, and braced to attention. "Lt. Commander Jenetta Alicia Carver reporting for duty, sir," she said to the officer who occupied the floating ‘oh-gee' chair behind the enormous desk.

  Captain Gavin, now in his early sixties, had dark brown hair with just a touch of grey at the temples. It was difficult to be sure while he was seated, but Jenetta guessed from the appearance of his torso that he was just a bit shy of the six-foot mark. He had a strong face with good features, and a fit body. Six pips adorned the area next to his left collar insignia, meaning that Prometheus was his sixth warship appointment during his career in Space Command. The normal progression of warship command, from destroyer to frigate, to cruiser, then battleship, would indicate that the Prometheus was his third battleship, although there were intermediate steps possible with either a light destroyer or light cruiser command. Though uncommon, it was even possible for an officer to have multiple commands in the same group of lesser warships, but Gavin's renown as a battleship commander was well established.

  A SimWindow, presently displaying a live exterior view of a docking ring section at Higgins, filled a sizable portion of the wall behind him. Paneled with real oak, not the synthetic products that only simulated wood, the walls of this four-meter squa
re room were finished in a light honey color. A long, comfortable-looking sofa, covered with the same deliciously-soft dark brown leather used for the room's three ‘oh-gee' chairs, sat patiently waiting for occupants against one wall, and the topaz carpeting gave the impression of being ten centimeters deep.

  As Gavin looked up from the report that he was reading on a portable viewpad, he fixed his dark-grey eyes acutely upon her face. "Ah, Carver," he said lightly. "You're early."

  As second officer, Jenetta was not required to report aboard until just before her watch began at midnight.

  "Yes sir," she responded. "I guess I was anxious to be aboard. Here are my orders, sir."

  Gavin took the data ring and placed it on his desk, already as familiar with the orders as she was. "Stand easy. Welcome aboard, Commander."

  "Thank you, Captain," Jenetta said as she relaxed her stance slightly.

  "Lieutenant Kerrey can show you to your quarters. As soon as you're settled in, you may assume your duties."

  "Thank you, sir, but I needn't bother Lieutenant Kerrey. I know every square meter of the Prometheus."

  The captain gazed at Jenetta's face intently. "Of course, Commander, of course. My new First Officer, Commander Genevieve LaSalle, will be joining us when we reach Earth. Until that time, you'll fill in for her as Acting First."

  Jenetta's heart quickened considerably, but she didn't allow any indication of her excitement to show on her face, nor take the deep breath her lungs screamed for. "Aye, Captain," was all she said.

  "Does that cause you any concern?" he asked, watching her reaction closely.

  "None at all, Captain. I'll be delighted to fill in as Acting First Officer."

  Gavin continued to stare at her face closely for several seconds. She was as calm as if he'd just told her that the officer's mess would be serving chicken for dinner, rather than relaying the fact that she would have without question the most difficult job aboard ship. The First Officer, often referred to as the Exec, Executive Officer, or simply the XO, is responsible for overseeing most day to day operations aboard ship. As second in command, he or she functions as the captain's right arm in most matters related to interaction with the crew, leaving the captain free to concentrate on the ship's mission. In addition to her administrative chores, Jenetta would be the senior officer on the second watch. Her combined duties would require her to work more hours than anyone else on board. To Gavin's trained eye, Jenetta had a look of confidence, with no outward signs of being arrogant; the mark of a good first officer.