by Rob Buckman
“You what! Good God.” The Admiral did a quick recovery, snapping his jaw shut.
“Yes, sir, it's all in the report.”
“I just bet it is,” he chuckled, “go see to your ships re-supply and I’ll see you back here at 20:00 hundred hours for dinner.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” With that, he returned the Admirals saluted and left the cabin.
“Flag!” The Admiral barked.
“Yes, sir.” His flag office stuck his head in the door.
“There will be one more for dinner tonight, and I don’t want to be disturbed for at least an hour.”
“Aye-aye, sir, one hour it is.” Rolly Vargas pulled his head back, a puzzled look on his face.
Admiral Rawlings lit a cigar and poured himself a small Torgon Brandy before plugging the message pad into his terminal, projecting the readout onto the large screen. Sitting back, he began to read, puffing slowly on his cigar, a smile slowly spreading across his rugged face.
In all, it took longer than an hour, especially as he wanted to review the video logs Mike included. Once or twice his flag officer stuck his head around the door to see if the Admiral was alright. The laugher coming from the cabin was so unusual that he had to look. The moment he’d finished watching Admiral Rawlings copied the whole thing and hit his comm unit, consigning Mike’s original report to the security of his safe.
“Flag! Is good for nothing layabout, Captain Bettencourt still aboard?” He asked.
“Let me check, Admiral - No, sir, he actually on final approach to the Flagship, as we speak, sir.” Rolly finally answered.
“Good, the moment he docks, ask him to report to me, on the double.” The Admiral smiled. It had been many a long year since Jimmy had heard anyone tell him that.
“Aye, Admiral.” That was unusual. Admirals don’t order courier pilots to report on the double, especially this one.
It didn’t take the perplexed Jimmy Bettencourt long to pick up the seal package and head back to Earth. His instructions were too personally hand it to the King. Upon arrival, he read the report, and watched the video along with the King and found the reason for the Admirals broad smile.
“Good God! The boys positively brilliant, Jimmy.”
“Yes, sir, he is that.” Jimmy answered proudly. This proved his original estimate of Mike was well founded.
“That’s one Sirrien Star Base that won’t be producing ships for a while.” Was his contribution.
“I’m betting they are still trying to figure out what hit them.” That was the Admiral Rawlings conclusion as well, and he said so over dinner. A few of the senior Captain present, ones he could trust, nodded in agreement, but Mike felt ill at ease in such company.
“I can see where this stealth coating could be of immense value in commando operations, sir.”
“Or for missions where you don’t want the enemy to know you are there, but I see a few drawbacks for fleet wide use, Admiral.”
“Yes, it does present a few hidden penalties, no pun intended.” The Admiral answered. “Yet, I wonder if it might be improved on, say, to find a way to keep all units of fleet in position while cloaked.”
“Humm, and what if this little secret get out, which I’m sorry to say, many are. How do we ‘see’ a cloaked ship?”
“I did talk to Gable Bushman about that, sir, and he's working on it.”
“It would be a God sent in a battle if you could suddenly become invisible to the enemy targeting scanners.”
“It does have its limitations, as once you get into optical range; the ship could be targeted visually.”
“Yes, but what about missiles. If they can’t see a ship like this, what’s to stop them hitting it if the ship happens to be in its flight path?”
It was a thought, one that Mike hadn’t considered till now. The stealth coating did have a few critical advantaged while acting as a single eliminate, as more than one Captain pointed out. In a fleet action it was a different story.
“I can see where we would have to come up with new tactics for using a group of ship like this.” Admiral Rawlings was glad he’d open the subject of Mike’s ship to his trusted Captains. They saw elements that might not have come up otherwise.
“This other device you spoke of, Leftenant Gray, the countermeasure canister Leftenant Adams is working on. Could it distract a lot of incoming ordinance?” Another asked.
“We don’t know the answer to that either, sir, but it shows promise.”
“Anyway, Mike, congratulation on retrieving the fighters for us, R&D will be here tomorrow morning to pick them up.”
“Let’s hope they don’t lose them again, sir.”
“Yes, I did have a word with the security people about that, and I’m still not satisfied with their answers.”
“It did seem that whoever stole those ships did so a little too easily.” A Senior Captain at the end of the table put in.
“Yes, losing one I could understand to some degree, but both? That stretches my credibility a little too far.”
“It doesn’t speak highly of naval security, or Naval Intelligence.”
“Gentleman, we all know we have a few rotten apples in the barrel, the question is identifying and getting rid of them.”
“Congratulation on taking out those three Sirrien ships, a light Cruiser no less.” One Captain lifted his glass to Mike.
“I can’t take the credit for that really, Captain.”
“How so, Michael?” The Admiral asked, looking pensive.
“I’d put it down to four things, Admiral.”
“Go on.”
“First, the Sirriens split their forces. If it was me, I would have put my ships into a triangular formation to maximize my sensors and swept through the dust cloud, it wasn’t that big.” The Admiral and a few Captains nodded.
“Go on.”
“Secondly, I hit them with two things they weren’t expecting. One the decoy torp put out a screen of ice particles ahead of the main torp and missile launch.” Mike paused and sipped his wine.
“The weight of ordinance I sent was way out of proportion to the size of my ship. A Corvette doesn’t usually put out that much.”
“Yes, I see, and?”
“They way she is built, sir, I can turn almost as fast as a patrol vessel, which gave me the chance to get on her tail and stay there.”
“Yes, not much back there in the way or armament.”
“No, sir, just the secondary batteries and a few point defense units to protect incoming shuttles and the like.”
“And your conclusion?”
“If the Commander had kept his forces together, he could have caught me coming out of the cloud. I’d be somewhat illuminated and he’d have a clear optical shot at me. If all three of them had opened up at once, I’d be dead meat. There would be no way I could defend against that much ordnance.”
“An excellent self appraisal, Michael.”
“It was a chance I had to take, Admiral, and it paid off, but I wouldn’t like to chance it again.”
“You wouldn’t?” One of the Captains asked.
“No, sir. I have no way of knowing how long we can keep this a secret. If they retrieve the life pod, their after action report will tell the Sirriens that there is something new out there. They are sure to work on it and come up with better tactics, and maybe a few surprises of their own.
“Good thought, Mike. I hope you included that in your after action report.”
“I did, sir.” Mike saw heads nodding around the table, and it was clear that all these men were in Admiral Rawlings inner circle. Now he’d been included as well.
“What about those ships in the Star Base?”
“From what I saw in that hanger, sir, it appeared the Sirriens are stealing technology from anyone they can. I saw at least five different ship designs in there, only three of which I recognized.”
“Any idea where the rest might be from?” The Senior Captain at the end of the table asked.
“
No, sir, but what struck me the most was the number of ships under construction.”
“And your conclusion?” The Admiral asked.
“They are preparing to go to war, sir.”
“That’s what I thought. The question is, with whom?”
“My guess is us, sir.” Mike answered bluntly. A somber feeling settled over the table, and more than one Captain looked into his wine glass for inspiration.
“We are nowhere near ready to go to war with the Sirriens, not with the Navy the state it’s in, Admiral.” One officer commented.
“I know that, damn it!” Admiral Rawlings snapped back. “There’s not a lot you or I can do about it either.”
He waved his hand a moment later as a way of apologizing for his burst of anger. A shiver ran down Mike’s back, and he took a quick look out the view port at the fleet around them. All that fire power, and yet the Admiral said they weren’t ready to go to war? Later, after the dinner party, the Admiral invited him to take a nightcap with him, and broached the subject again.
“I saw you look out the view port at the fleet, Mike, but don’t be fooled by what you see.”
“No, sir.”
“Apart from a few heavy elements on detached duty, the main bulk of the Royal Navy is what you see out there.” The Admiral stood, running one hand through his short gray hair before waving at his fleet outside the view port, a sad look on his face.
“Yes, sir, I understand that.”
“And what do you see?” He asked as he walked over to the view port. He didn’t wait for Mike to answer.
“Out of date vessels with inadequate fire power, under gunned and under powered, at least compared to the Sirrien Fleet.”
“Do we know what that consist of, sir?”
“Yes, I sorry to say we do, and I wish I didn’t.” He sighed. “They outnumber us five to one in every respect, from Battleships to patrol boats.” He walked back to his desk and picked up his pipe, stoking it with his thumb.
“Good God! I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Very few people do, Mike, they are bigger, faster, more heavily armed, with better armor and shields, not to mention the extra weight in external and internal ordinance.”
“That’s a bleak picture, Admiral.”
“Yes, it is, and the reason getting your ship completed was so important.”
“I understand now, sir.”
“I hope you do, every ship's Captain at the table wants ten of them right now.”
“But why can’t we build them, sir?”
“His Majesties Government, of course, every time we put in a request for new ships it's killed in appropriations, insufficient funds, or some other such nonsense.” He sighed.
“What if we had them built under contract somewhere else, Admiral?” Mike had no idea why he said it, or what inspired the idea.
“And who would we trust with our technology!” He snorted.
“Avalon, sir.”
“What?” The Admiral turn and looked Mike in the eye, his bushy eyebrows pulling together to form a large furry caterpillar across his forehead.
“My home planet, Admiral, we have the technology and the shipyards to build as many ships as the Navy needed, sir. In any size.” For a moment the Admiral just stood and looked at him, his face blank.
“If I didn’t know your background, Mike, I’d suspect you of having an ulterior motive for suggesting that.”
“Like what, sir, Avalon has always been loyal to Earth, even if we did decide to go it alone.” Mike colored slightly, uncomfortable under the Admiral’s gaze.
“If any other officer from a colony planet had said that, I’d say he was trying to get Earth technology.”
“No, sir, it’s nothing like that. Avalon has its own ship yards, and we do build some of the largest bulk trader vessels around.”
“Yes, I know.” He said, smiling at Mike.
“Yes, sir, I shouldn’t state the obvious.” Mike felt his ears get a little red.
“I understand, Mike, and you are right. Avalon does have the capacity, and the technology to build any ship we want.”
“Yes, so, and I doubt that any Earth technology would be at risk.”
“It's a good idea, but how on Earth would we pay for it for a start, and secondly, do you realize the ramifications of what you are saying?” He said at last.
“I believe I do, sir.”
“His Majesties Government would probably have us all arrested and charged with treason if they found out.”
“What if the King himself commissioned Avalon to build the ships?” Mike ventured. That brought a startled look from the Admiral, and for a moment he pondered Mike’s remark. Then he nodded.
“Hummm that has been done before.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that, sir.”
“Yes, the Royal family paid for the completion of the Queen Mary during the great depression, but that was a civilian vessel.”
He said, looking up at the bulkhead, seemingly speaking more to himself than Mike. “And I know of a few times the Navy, or the Government has brought ships built by someone else.”
“Warships, sir?”
“Yes, nuclear subs for one, from the old USA.”
“So there are presidents, sir.”
“Do you have any idea of how many they could build in a given time frame, say a year?” The Admiral turned away from the depressing view outside and lit his pipe.
“Only generally, sir,” he replied, “we do have space as well and ground based yards and could probably build several at the same time. I’d have to check with my Grandfather before I could say for sure.”
“And who might your Grandfather be that he could make such a promise?” Mike took a deep breath. It was time to tell the truth. The Admiral took him into his confidence by inviting him to the dinner with the other senior Captain, one’s he could trust, could he do less.
“My Grandfather is Gordon Tregallion, Prime Minister of Avalon’s governing council.”
“He’s what!” Admiral Rawlings almost dropped his pipe. “Good Lord! The Admiral though he was too old to be surprised by anything, but this did. Walking around his desk, he sat, lighting his pipe afresh, thought running through his head, like wheels turning within wheels.
“I must say, it explains a few things.”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“And your other Grandfather, Admiral Tregallion?”
“I’m sorry to say that he’d dead, sir, saving the lives of over three hundred passengers and crew from a doomed liner.”
“I see. My condolences.” Admiral Rawlings paused a moment, reflecting on his service under the flamboyant Admiral. “He will be missed.”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
“Are you on good terms with your Grandfather, Gordon?”
“No, sir, I can’t say that I am. The last time we met we had a real knock down drag out fist fight, but I can get to see him, and present any proposal you can come up with.”
“Mike, say nothing of this conversation to anyone, not even your crew, and give me a few days to think it over.”
“So you think it's a possibility, sir?”
“I’m not saying that, just give me a few days to think it over, and I’ll let you know, one way or the other.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, give me your unvarnished version of what happened on your trip. Your report, I’m sure, left a few things out.” He said, smiling.
They sent another hour together, and Mike filled him in one some of the minor, less legal details of his mission. The ones he’d left out of his report. The Admiral sat there and chuckling, or shaking his head in disbelief. The whole story was outrageous, yet the young man telling it seemed unaware of just what he’d done. It was like the rescue mission. He just did what he thought was best at a given moment. No matter how crazy it might seem later.
“Have you thought of a name for your ship yet, Mike?” He asked at length.
“Yes, sir, unofficially
of course, a Corvette don’t usually get a name, just a number.”
“True, but in this case, I’m sure an exception could be made.”
“Well, sir, the consensus on the ship leans towards H.M.S. Nemesis.”
“Good, I like it, and it fits.”
Later that night, Mike thought over the Admiral’s words, seeing meaning and contradictions between what he heard. Something was going on in the background, something that bordered on treason. Yet he doubted that it was directed at the King. Finally, he brushed it away and rolled over and when to sleep. The official word arrived a few days later that, as of now, Corvette 696 would be known by the name of H.M.S. Nemesis. As it was too late to break a bottle of Champaign across the bow, Mike did the honors inside to the cheers of the assembled crew. He broke a small bottle of ships ‘engine cleaner’, curtsey of Petty Officer Macgregor, against the bow main frame, and also gave them a well done from the Admiral and ordered the quarter Master to issue a ration of liqueur for everyone. After that the routine got back to normal, but to stop too many people asking questions, or wanting to come abroad, the Admiral sent them off on a long patrol around the Southern warp point. That kept her safely out of the way, but it was boring duty. His request for an immediate refit was denied, with the explanation that there were far too many ships ahead of him in desperate need of repair. It did give Gable and Adam time to work on their respective inventions, and a few others they thought up. Not that it was a singular effort, as all the crew added their suggestion when invited to come up with ideas for improvement. This started everyone thinking, and in the end Mike has suggestion boxes posted around the ship. Conner Blake would make the rounds at the end of the watch and collect them for review in the Wardroom later. A few got some laughs, but on the whole all of them could see that some serious thought had gone into them.
