When we ran down, Admiral Lee looked at us for several moments, then he stood up and walked tiredly over to the coffee service, where he poured a cup and pointed at some clean cups. We didn’t need but the one invitation to get up out of our seats.
We settled back down with matching, battered cups that said in faded lettering, ‘USS Enterprise’, and below that another line that read, ‘CVA-65’
The admiral held up his cup and said, “Did you know that we haven’t had a ship called Enterprise in service in several centuries? I don’t know why, or how it happens, but we sometimes forget our own history. We have that new, reconditioned Fleet Auxiliary Carrier coming up to within a few weeks of her trials, did you know that?”
We shook our heads. The admiral asked, “Do you know what they’re going to call her?” Robert looked at Elian first, then back at the admiral, guessing where the conversation was headed, but not anxious to spoil the surprise.
Admiral Lee waited a moment and then said, “The Constitution. They’re going to call her the Constitution! I suppose that it’s a decent enough name, but My God, they passed over Enterprise, they passed over Yorktown and Zhukov, they passed over every single name with history and tradition, and, by God, with blood! Admiralty said that they wanted a new name for a new type of carrier, but I just wanted to punch those dammed idiots. Do you know your history? During the Second World War, uh, twentieth century, Japan and Germany, oh and Italy, fought Russia, England, France – for a few days – and finally they fought the United States. That country invented the seagoing carrier, and the Japanese tried to take them out with a sneak attack. By luck, or whatever, the US carriers happened to be out of port when the Japanese struck. Over the course of the next four years American and Japanese carriers fought some monumental battles, the biggest in the history of naval warfare, with literally hundreds of ships and well over one hundred thousand sailors. The Yorktown, Coral Sea, Enterprise, they forever changed the nature of naval warfare, and became instant legends, but we seem to have forgotten our history. I don’t know, but if we’re not careful, we won’t have a fleet to give names to. We’re getting that one carrier, and that’s all. We’re getting, if we’re lucky, one Kestrel a week, and we may be facing enemies on two fronts. I’m not convinced that we’ve seen the last of the bugs. They may well have other flotillas out there, sailing around, looking for somebody to shoot. And these new boys, they seem to be itching for a target to shoot at. They’re behaving exactly as they would if they were at war, and had been for some time. If our scientists are correct, they have been. They estimate that the destruction of the bug planet took place two thousand years ago, did you know that? These two races may have been at war before Aristotle was out of diapers, and here we sit, talking about one tiny fighter per week!”
The admiral had gotten to his feet and was pacing the office, his hands waving as he talked. He wound down and sat back in his chair, heavily. He said, “You two are a sight for sore eyes. I know that when you show up, you have results to give, rather than finger pointing and lame excuses. My God, I could use a little more of that now.”
He sat in silence for a long moment, then said, “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your ships. Report to me when you have a handle on their state of readiness. And, if I haven’t said it already, thanks for a job well done and a great report, except for lying through your teeth about how smoothly everything went. Oh, one more thing. I’d like your two destroyers to have a small piece of that ancient spirit that saw through death and disaster to ultimate triumph. Please take those cups with you. I’d like them back, when you return. There are only sixteen of them left, and I don’t want to lose any more.”
We got quickly to our feet and saluted smartly, albeit with a small grin showing around the edges. The admiral grinned back, the first we’d seen brighten his face since we arrived, and he waved us out of his office, not the usual method of dismissing two junior officers.
We walked down what seemed like endless corridors until we finally caught a scooter, a form of transportation that always made us laugh, due perhaps to the absurdity of it: we were deep within humanity’s most advanced and powerful military base, riding on a piece of ancient technology that was far older then anyone alive, on or off the base. We waved to each other after entering the hanger where both our ships were docked.
I spent just a few minutes looking at reports before retiring. The ship seemed to have survived my absence, thanks to an excellent executive officer and Master Chief Khan.
The next morning, after eating a quick breakfast, I toured the ship, looking for anything that might need repair. I couldn’t find anything,
I spoke briefly with Elian who reported that his ship was ready, save for last minute replenishment of stores, including missiles. These had proven to be in short supply, another in a series of worrisome signs that Fleet had fallen on bad times.
We made our reports to the admiral’s aide, who smiled nicely for us, something she didn’t do for everyone. She nodded thoughtfully when we reported that we were still waiting for our missiles to be replaced. She made a couple of calls and told us, “Your missiles are now on base and should be delivered to your hanger by 1500. If you haven’t seen them by that time, please comm me?” We nodded, happy to have someone competent to work with.
On a hunch Elian asked, “When do you take your lunch?” She looked carefully at him, knowing full well that he was a newly wed, but seemed to be satisfied with what she saw in those two incredibly innocent eyes. She grinned and said, “I’m free now, if you two are buying?” I laughed and said, “Elian, your dying breath will probably be a compliment.”
Everyone laughed and after waiting for her to comm her boss, we left on foot for the canteen. We preferred its casual standards to the officer’s mess, and the food was sometimes good. Not often enough, unfortunately.
We moved slowly down the line choosing some pre-packaged food and sat down at a vacant table. We opened the food wrappers and dug in, largely silently.
After a few minutes Lt. Graziano asked, “Did you report in last evening?’ We nodded. She smiled and said, “I hope you had some good news for Admiral Lee?” She ended on a questioning note and I combined a nod with a shrug. I said, “We’re going to get the Kestrel prototype up to base within the next few days, and it looks like it will meet parameters. I’m looking forward to getting my hands on it. It is quite a bit quicker than the Hawk, and it will have double the amount of missiles. They’re scrapping the Hawk’s expensive armor in favor of a less costly one, sort of like what we did here with the Dresden. It should be a good ship. I don’t know how one ship a week is going to do much for us, however. We need several hundred now, which equates to four years worth. Ah well, perhaps the admiral can work some of his magic? I hope so. I sure hope so.”
The admiral’s aide had deliberately asked Robert and Elian what they had to say about the Kestrel. She had already heard their verbal report second hand through the admiral, and she was interested in seeing if they would repeat to her what they’d said to her boss.
Robert and Elian both knew that the admiral put a great deal of trust in her, but they weren’t about to speak out of school, not even to her, so they merely reported the bald facts, and added nothing else. This pleased her, as it confirmed her impression that they were trustworthy as well as competent.
We talked shop a bit, and answered her questions about our wives, who we were now seriously missing.
At 1500 hours we still hadn’t seen the missile carts, and Elian commed Lt. Graziano. She had been following the journey of these all-important munitions as they left the factory, were ferried up to orbit, transferred to fleet bottoms and made their slow journey out to Jupiter. She was just about as frustrated as the admiral at the slow pace of so many officers and enlisted in the Fleet. They sometimes didn’t seem to be aware that there was a war, a fact that had accidentally worked in our favor.
Our departure from Jupiter had been delayed by the absence of those ver
y missiles, making it possible for us to make the trip to earth.
She told Elian, who had commed her just moments ahead of me, “They are just minutes away from your hanger. I suggest that you get ready to receive them. Your flotilla is ready to leave, save for those missiles.”
Elian acknowledged her suggestion, having already done so. His people were standing by, the hatches open.
The missile carts finally trundled into the hanger. Just these two ships required two hundred forty capital missiles and two hundred fifty six anti-missile missiles, which were all horribly expensive. Those numbers didn’t include reloads.
We had managed to wheedle an additional forty of the smaller missiles out of the base. If we got into a shooting match and shot ourselves dry, we could reload the additional missiles in something over fifteen minutes of backbreaking labor. That might prove invaluable. Virtually every time we went out, we returned with our tubes shot dry, and we knew in our bones that one day we might come up short. We didn’t want that to happen just because we hadn’t made every effort to acquire some ‘extra’ missiles.
By 2300, the missiles had been unloaded from the carts, which were massive, low slung affairs that housed eight missiles each. Each cart had its own manipulating arm that could handle the huge missiles with relative ease. It was a time consuming job, however, to load them, one by one into the ship’s automated machinery that then could handle the multi-ton missiles without further human intervention.
It was almost 0400 before we were able to report that we were now loaded with a full complement of missiles. Over the next two hours several additional cargo transporters pulled up to the ships with some much-needed drones that would replace the ones we’d left behind as we fled from the bugs.
We made a final walk-through and visually inspected the missiles in their armored holds. At 0630 we reported to the admiral that we were ready for departure.
Late that morning Elian commed me and asked, “Have you opened your gift from Mr. Korsibisky?” I had forgotten about it and said so. I said, “Wait a minute.” I reached over to open my travel bag. I pulled out the small package and unwrapped it. Inside I found a beautiful wood box. I pulled open the lid and discovered inside a perfectly detailed scale model of the Kestrel, made out of a heavy metal. It had a small stand and on that was a plaque, reading “To Lt. Robert Padilla, With Respect”. I reopened my comm and held it up so Elian could see it. He showed me a duplicate. We grinned happily.
That afternoon we received a Warning of Imminent Movement, a standard message telling us we were going to be lifting soon, which ‘soon’ was now nearly a week late.
We notified our crews, some of who were off ship on errands. Within twenty minutes all hatches were sealed and we prepared to get under way.
At 1600 Admiral Lee commed Captain Speer and transferred to him his final mission orders. The admiral closed the short conversation by saying, “Good hunting, captain. Just as soon as we manage to get our hands on some additional missiles, we’ll be sending out a couple of conventional destroyers who will escort an FFC.”
Captain Speer read over his orders, mostly to verify that they hadn’t changed. He placed a ‘com-com’ to all ten of the Dresdens and the fleet auxiliary carrier.
When everyone was hooked up he said, “Gentlemen and Ladies, we have our final orders. We will lift at 1800 hours, some two hours from now. Make any last minute preparations now please. Is anyone not sealed up and ready for lift off?” Everyone was ready.
He said, “We will leave earth system, headed for the region of space currently occupied by the fifth enemy flotilla. We will mask the location of our departure by making a series of jumps so that we enter the Void well away from any human occupied system. Once there, we will be tasked with observing, without revealing our own presence, its movements and activities. If there is an attempt on the part of the enemy to deviate from their present heading to head towards a solar system, we are to intervene. By intervene is meant the destruction of that flotilla. Are there any questions?” There were none.
He concluded by saying, “I like a tight ship, and I like a tight formation. My orders from Admiral Lee are clear, and I expect that you will carry out my orders as expeditiously as possible. Speer out.”
I had briefly met most of the other ship captains, but didn’t really know them. I did know that Elian and I were at least one full grade below the next most junior captain, a lieutenant commander. The other captains hadn’t been all that chatty with us, causing us to suddenly feel like outsiders.
We talked to each other via a secure com, and discussed how we might accomplish two probably very contradictory goals: the first would be to remain out of the doghouse of Captain Speer, who seemed cold and autocratic. He didn’t create an atmosphere in which input could be freely offered, although he had the habit of asking for it, right before he cut off the conversation and gave explicit instructions.
This tactic created the impression of being open to input from others, while simultaneously squelching any possibility of it. I saw through the tactic early on, but it was only after bouncing ideas off Elian that I was he able to fully understand the potential for danger our new boss represented, both personally and generally.
In my opinion, this approach to ‘leadership’ engendered a reluctance on the part of the junior officers to speak up, and as a result it eliminated any flow of information from the bottom up, placing the entire burden of decision-making in the hands of a superior officer with no combat experience. This was diametrically opposite to the way we worked, and we knew our way worked. We were reasonably certain his way wouldn’t, and we were absolutely certain we didn’t want to find out.
The second goal was to accomplish our mission. We both knew that whether or not our task force had been specifically ordered to attack and destroy the bug flotilla, that would most probably be the outcome. The bugs were just too alien and inimical to other life forms.
Exactly on time, the carrier Brezhnev began accelerating ponderously up out of orbit. From launch pads located around the immense base, the ten Dresden class destroyers ascended silently into orbit and then into formation with the carrier. The FFC was coming directly from earth and would catch up to the task force before its first jump.
Captain Speer’s ships sorted themselves out and assumed a single line, each ship precisely one thousand kilometers apart. This type of formation was a favorite of pre-war task force commanders who wanted to make a good impression on their superiors, but it made little or no sense in wartime. We brought up the rear. We compared the order of ships against the seniority of their captains and were amused to see that they matched. This was not an auspicious beginning.
The ships accelerated for ten hours, by which time the FFC had caught up. Its captain received a mildly cold reprimand for missing the arrival time by ten minutes. He’d served under Captain Speer once before and was smart enough not to give an excuse, although he had an excellent one: an officer just as officious and authoritarian as Captain Speer had held him up.
Captain Speer had been passed over for admiral a little over a year earlier, and he hadn’t taken it all that well. His reputation for being a cold bastard became even better polished in the months following his ‘humiliation’ at the hands of bitter political opponents.
As they neared the jump zone the Brezhnev launched four Hawks who quickly accelerated ahead and jumped. One of them reappeared one hour later. One by one, the destroyers disappeared from earth space, with the carrier jumping last. In just a few minutes Carolyn could have cobbled together software to enable a ‘joint jump’ that would have been far superior to the one-at-a-time jump.
Five jumps later the task force eased into a section of the Void that placed it in front of the expected course of the bug flotilla. During the nearly one year that it had been observed, the bug flotilla had never deviated from its course, and if it had continued on during the interval since Robert and Elian’s escape, it would be roughly three hundred million kilometers d
istant from their present location. As soon as all ships appeared, Captain Speer ordered the Hawks to launch and sanitize the region of space surrounding the carrier. So far, so good.
Captain Speer ordered the Dresdens into a globular formation, with a radius of one hundred thousand kilometers, and the carrier at its center. This was another peacetime formation that would not protect anyone in an attack. I knew from experience that a bug missile could traverse that distance in a very short time.
Elian and I continued to send tight-beam communications to each other, although it was difficult due to the relatively large separation. We didn’t inform Captain Speer of the comms; we weren’t disobeying orders, but we suspected that if he knew, he would put an end to it.
We both felt that his tactics to date were by the book, but we also felt that he was beginning to display all the symptoms of a man out of his depth. He knew what the bugs were capable of because he’d seen the footage, and we knew that he knew we had more direct experience with bugs than any other human beings, living or dead. Despite that, he had failed to hold even a casual conversation with either of us. He’d treated us as if we were the rookies, and he the experienced veteran. We worried, and we continued to train our now highly experienced crews at every opportunity. We already had a bad feeling about this mission.
Hawk Seven (Flight of the Hawk) Page 65
