If there was a surviving ship, we might be able to refill our water tanks. If we could not, we had a real dilemma. We absolutely had to get at least one Hawk home. The only way we could do that, using only the resources we already had, was to transfer some water from eleven Hawks to the twelfth. The other Hawks would then head for the nearest star, using minimum fuel.
The discussion was very fruitful. I concluded it, thanked everyone and said, “We are going to do the following: Should the Essex be discovered to have been lost, we will transfer water to Hawk06, who will proceed very carefully back to Lubya by way of the same jump points we used to get here. The remaining Hawks will proceed under reduced power and rations to the nearest system, which is,” I looked with a grin at Carolyn, who was, as usual, not at a loss, having the answer at her fingertips. “That system yonder.” Everyone chuckled, despite the colossal disaster we were contemplating. A b linking icon lit up the star in question.
I continued, “Next, we will adopt Hawk06’s suggestion and align ourselves in a two dimensional disk search pattern. Due to fuel limitations, we won’t be blowing through quite as fast as suggested. Uh, change of plans. I want to transfer water as soon as practical. We’ll do it starting with Hawk01, while the others remain at a distance. If the worst, Hawk06 will continue without stopping, will run for twenty-four hours without boost and only then jump out. By the way, Hawk06, do you have any red lights?” Lieutenant Burkhal answered, “No sir. Well, our food is getting a little thin. However, I suggest that we transfer all of it to you folks. After sitting around this palatial cockpit we could stand a little dieting. This ancient relic of a Hawk is one sturdy little craft, I have to admit.”
I looked over at the chief and he said, “Sir, we have twenty four full meals on board. We could stretch that to perhaps six days, with one meal per day. We’ll get hungry but that won’t kill us.”
I asked the other Hawks to inventory their food and we all had more or less the same amount. I decided not to tell them what to do with their own food. I did ask Carolyn to compute how much time it would take to reach that solar system. I left unsaid what would happen if we didn’t find a supply of water when we got there. A solar system is a very big empty place with the probability of only one planet the right distance from its sun to contain easily obtained water. Outlying planets might contain water in their upper atmospheres, and some of their moons might have it as well, but we had no way of getting that water into our ships.
She took a few minutes, almost surprising me, and finally reported, “Sir, from the site of our hookup with the Essex, it will take from four to seven days to reach that solar system. The lower figure represents boosting at one G, which would leave us virtually dry when we got there, but if we could find that inner planet within a day or so we would be able to send one Hawk down, fill up and then transfer a sufficient amount to the rest of us so we could go down. The longer figure would give us more run time when we got there, but, assuming the same amount of time to find and refuel, we would be faced with having to go without food for about one week, perhaps longer. Well, definitely longer.”
I reported her estimates to the other craft and said I would make my decision when we reached the Essex, or her remains. Elian joked, “Well, I always thought Carolyn looked pretty good. After a week without food, she might look even better.” I almost choked, but Carolyn laughed delightedly and said, “Elian that is the first time you’ve said I looked good. Are you ill?” The chief chuckled and said, “You have to ask?” We all laughed.
Twenty hours later our Hawks formed into a standard search pattern over one hundred thousand kilometers wide as we approached our rendezvous with the Essex. We came in unpowered, and even before we reached the site we began to see emergency beacons.
I told everyone to remain silent while I made a call in the correct code. I was met with silence. I made a call in the clear, but there was no response. I beamed a message to Hawk06, “OK, you have your orders. Good luck, and tell them what we accomplished, as well as what happened here.” Hawk06 clicked his mike twice.
I decided to compromise and we boosted at a lower velocity, which would get us there in six days. We rested a lot – there hadn’t been much sleep on the way in and we were tired.
One day out, decelerating now, we began scanning intensely, looking for planets. If we were lucky, the planet we wanted would be on our side of the system. We were coming in at a slight angle to the elliptic, which gave us a decent look at the system from below. We spotted the outer gas giants quickly, but it took most of a day to locate the planet we thought would give us the best chance at finding water. It was on our side, if not by very much.
We remained relatively close to each other but we were pretty quiet. I requested updates every four hours, just because it gave them something to do. Carolyn could have done it remotely, but that wasn’t the purpose.
We changed course slightly and flew past the Oort cloud and into the system proper. It took us another day to decelerate to match orbits with the planet.
We went to high alert as we sailed past one of the two moons this planet sported. It was possible that the bugs had visited this system, could even be there now. We gradually circled in elliptically, saving power as much as possible. The planet was mostly desert, but there was water. We used aero braking to slow us down the last bit, and after ten full orbits I chose a large island that seemed to have a large stream or small river. We hadn’t seen any sign of bugs, which didn’t mean they weren’t there. I decided to send Hawk12 down, but I wanted a good separation between it and the rest of us so we boosted for a few seconds. Even that small amount required some calculation to determine if we could.
Hawk12 dropped down into atmosphere and glided as well as a Hawk could, conserving its last remaining reserves of water. It circled the island once and landed on a small flat spot next to a river. There was vegetation, but a quick check showed the atmosphere was poisonous to us, so they were going to have a tough time of it, dragging hoses down to the water’s edge in suits not intended for such a task.
We hadn’t seen any sign of large predators, or in fact, of much of any animal life, but the crew sat for over an hour before opening a personnel hatch and exiting the Hawk.
Every ninety minutes we circled overhead and looked down on our tiny Hawk sister. We didn’t radio, and couldn’t get a comm laser down through the atmosphere, so we were kept unaware of any difficulty they might have run into. Six hours after landing, we came overhead and found no sign of the Hawk. It had taken off, making us all feel pretty good.
Within two orbits Hawk12 caught up with us and transferred water to six of us. We dropped down in a group and landed in the same spot. Hawk12 had conveniently left its hoses in place and it was a relatively easy task to pump our tanks full. We were parked in a very tight group, and it would have been easy to take us all out with one shot, but our sojourn on the planet’s surface was unremarkable, save for having to sweat inside a suit clearly not designed for working on the surface of a planet.
We moved back up into orbit and the remaining Hawks dropped down. Six hours later, we boosted under max G for home. We had just two meals per crewman left, and were already severely hungry, but we now had more than enough water to reach home.
We made our first jump shortly after leaving the system. After each arrival we would drift, listening for any sign of another ship. Finding nothing, we jumped again.
Two days later we jumped right to the edge of Lubya. We had gone two weeks on two days food and were suffering from malnutrition. As soon as we appeared in space we were spotted. A flight of four Dash 6’s carefully approached and greeted us with a great deal of relief. They were very jumpy. I could understand why.
We were escorted to the central navy base, a large moon orbiting Lubya. We landed and shut down our systems. These Hawks had been running continuously for twenty-five days, and had performed flawlessly. We walked down our ramps on very rubbery legs, and we positively stank.
We
were greeted by the commanding officer of the base, accompanied by some medical personnel who promptly put us all on gurneys and took us to the base hospital. We were checked over carefully, put to bed and fed intravenously. After resting for six hours, we were allowed to take a much-needed shower. It was with great relief that we all gathered in a large meeting room. We were served a good, albeit small and bland meal and allowed to eat it without having to answer any questions.
After our meal, Admiral deKoontz came in and walked from table to table, shaking hands and exchanging names, an almost shocking breach of conduct. After he made the rounds, he stood off to one side and called for attention. He began speaking in a loud voice, saying, “On behalf of the Federal Navy and the people of Lubya, I want to thank all of you for what you have accomplished. I would not normally thank either enlisted or officers who simply performed their duty. However, your actions and your accomplishments went well beyond what would be expected as normal – they were extraordinary. Some of you may have noticed a certain Master Chief Kana, sitting over there in the corner trying not to be noticed by a former wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant he took under his wing a couple of decades ago. As he learned, extraordinary performance never goes unpunished.” General laughter greeted his remark, and the chief actually blushed.
The admiral paused for a moment, grinning slightly, then continued, “As you must have seen, the Essex was attacked and destroyed just forty hours after your Hawks departed, and two days before the arrival of reinforcements, which were delayed by approximately two days. The Essex was able to launch its fighters but they were immediately overwhelmed, followed quickly by the Essex herself and her destroyer escort. I’m happy to report that the FFC was able to evade their patrols and returned to base.”
“I’m sorry to say that there were no survivors from the two ships. Fleet already knows of the loss, although we will be happy to report that the reported loss of the Hawks was a little premature. It is a dreadful thing to say, but we believe that if the reinforcements had arrived ahead of the attack, the results would have been the same.”
He continued, “We have reviewed your downloads and believe that the bugs were able to move two mother ships closer to the position of the Essex, leaving two behind. It is our opinion that the mother ship you destroyed had been so severely damaged in your earlier attacks that they simply left it as an immense decoy in an effort to spoof the Essex into remaining in the area. It worked, but they paid severely for the destruction of our carrier. I cannot believe that they thought the Hawks could find a way to send in so many missiles, so on balance, painful as it may be, your accomplishment in destroying such an enormous ship, easily the largest craft ever seen by humans, compensates to some degree for the loss of so many men and women. Compensation is not the same thing as victory, and your shipmates will be sorely missed by us all.”
“After you recover from your enforced diet, we’re sending you and your Hawks back to Earth for some much needed refurbishment and updates. In the short time since discovery of the bugs, the federal government has funded numerous crash programs, some of which involve you and your elderly attack ships. You will also have your alleged brains picked for everything you know and suspect about the bugs.” More laughter, made easier by the prospect of traveling to earth, and away from the bugs.
Admiral deKoontz wrapped up his talk, “I will do everything possible to see that your families are informed as quickly as humanely possible, and you will get some leave. Unfortunately, most of you are not from earth, and the exigencies of the present emergency do not allow for extended leave. I promise you that fleet will send a representative to each and every family as soon as humanly possible, informing them of your survival and possibly of your successful mission. Nothing can mitigate the suffering they have gone through, but fleet takes care of its own, and we will do what we can. Finally, I am sorry to say that you will have to take part in a, um, brief ceremony, the date to be determined by your ability to stand attention. Come to think of it, some of you never were very good at that. Let’s say, then, two days from today. Wear dress whites please.” The termination of his speech was greeted with good-hearted laughter.
The admiral smiled genially, waved his hand and turned to leave. We all stood and came to attention. Elian said to me, quietly, “Robertito, if this admiral fights as good as he talks, the bugs are flat finished.” I grinned and said, “Well, Alien, if you could talk as good as you fight, you’d be a lieutenant JG.” Carolyn and the chief laughed delightedly. I noticed that the chief had become less formal over the time he had been with us. Or, rather, the time we had been with him. I looked at him and said, “Chief, you could have become an admiral by now if you’d accepted that promotion. Why didn’t you?”
Chief Kana looked at me and said, “I’d have been a terrible officer, Lieutenant. I’m just not very good at telling people nicely how they just screwed the pooch. No, I make a decent chief. I can handle my men, and I sometimes find myself a good officer or two to stick with.” Elian grinned and said, “Yeah, point me at one of ‘em. I’d love to see how the other half lives.” Carolyn giggled and I grinned. Chief Kana looked a little smug.
Two days later, we assembled at the leisurely hour of 0900 in a large hall. The crews of the Hawks were all wearing brand new uniforms, our old ones having been destroyed along with the Essex. We were seated front and center, and most of us felt a mixture of pride and discomfort. We were alive because we happened to be away when the Essex and its nearly seven hundred sailors and marines were attacked and died. On the other hand, an undetermined number of bugs, but assuredly quite a large amount, were no longer among the living because of what we had accomplished.
The hall could hold nearly a thousand, and it was packed, everyone in dress whites, save for the marines, who stood out in their garish uniforms. On the other hand, they managed to give the monotonous sea of white a bit of color. Speaking of color, Master Chief Kana sported an extremely colorful chest. In my short military career I had never seen so many medals on one person. He looked like a poster; mature, a little grizzled around the edges, but incredibly powerful, both physically and otherwise.
An aide called ‘attention’ and we all jumped to our feet. Admiral deKoontz walked quickly into the hall and up to the front. “Be seated,” he said calmly and waited out the rustle as we all got comfortable.
Without preamble he said, “Fleet takes in raw recruits, trains them for a period of time, and then places into their hands the power and responsibility of Zeus. It commands their allegiance to an idea, a belief that the good of society is more important than the good of the individual. It expects, and almost universally receives that allegiance, even unto death. We are deeply saddened at the loss of so many of our brothers and sisters, officers and enlisted, who stood to their posts, and who perished. However, we are not here to commemorate their passing. There is no fitting way that we could. Rather, we are gathered instead to honor those among us who have faced the most severe challenges, and been found not wanting.”
The admiral paused, and turned to his side, who held out a small, open box. Admiral deKoontz took the box, gently, almost reverently and called out a name. One by one, all forty-eight crew members of our Hawks walked forward and stood as the admiral personally pinned a medal on him or her. He spoke a few quiet words to each of us, and it was as if he knew us personally.
When he finished, and we were once again all seated, he said, “In addition, a unit citation has been issued to Attack Squadron 513, for service to the Fleet, and to humanity, at the battle of The Void, August 13th through October 27th. The citation says, in part, ‘During said period, Squadron 513 participated in every engagement with the enemy, and distinguished itself by its actions, in the process destroying more tonnage than during any single engagement in the history of Fleet.”
The admiral paused, then continued, “That concludes the statement. However, I would like to add a personal comment, for whatever it is worth. Your actions during this critical j
uncture in the history of humanity will become a permanent part of the lore of our fleet, and will live on in a manner most fitting, by being taught to those who come after you, into our Fleet.” He paused for a long moment, looking down at us. Then he said, “You are dismissed.”
That evening there was a formal Dining In, an ancient tradition that continued to serve an important function. In this case, that function was to permit a majority of the officers and enlisted of Attack Squadron 513 to become somewhat to somewhat highly inebriated. In a few cases, loudly so. It was extremely rare for a formal occasion such as this to include enlisted, but the nature and makeup of the squadron made it virtually impossible to do otherwise.
For the first time, I was present when Master Chief Kana demonstrated his mastery of the English language, as well as a few others, in a precisely spoken, perfectly grammatical, lengthy and medically accurate critique of Commander Harrelson’s physical attributes. Upon the conclusion of his remarks, a hushed silence descended over the group, broken at last by a burst of laughter from the aforementioned Commander. Out of courtesy only, the entire group joined him.
I accepted a glass of something highly alcoholic, and raised it in toast after raucous toast. I put the glass to my lips, but didn’t actually imbibe. It seemed to me to be an acceptable compromise of my own principles and the requirements of the moment.
Hawk Seven (Flight of the Hawk) Page 26
