Counter Strike: A Story of the New Glasgow War

by CN Stoesen

  Outside of the engineering they were pinned in another fire fight they had to result to use more grenades. They lost a second man and then they breached the engine room. Evans didn't even wait to see what was in the room. He fired grenades into the wall to vent it to space. Something exploded that killed the other marine and rendered Evans unconscious. Without survival gear, the FUP sailors didn't stand a chance.

  Evans killed his team through bad tactics and rushing too hard. Her operation she watched the other marines in the room rather than the holotable. You could see the difference in the reactions to the two segments.

  Once it finished, she started again, but this time paused it to narrate the events she knew or point out mistakes. The lecture lasted forty minutes. Using the display, she moved through not only Evans' group but her own. She stopped the action and marked better tactical positions for them to have taken and possible responses that the teams should have done instead.

  This was always painful for Duncan. When using one's twenty-twenty hindsight, it is easier to see the mistakes you made. It is even more costly when those errors lead to deaths among your teams.

  What she emphasized was action is better than inaction. The right decision made hesitantly can be worse than a wrong one done decisively. She remembered the first time she received that little gem of advice. It seemed counterintuitive. It wasn't until she saw a squad leader freeze up and get her and the rest of the squad pinned down that she understood.

  At the end of the debriefing, she could see the weariness on her team's faces. She ordered them to get bunk time. The rest of the teams seemed less depressed than before so that was apparently a success.

  "Johnson, I want you and DeMarco's teams into the sims. DeMarco, you will be in the defender's role. Run it through a few times then switch sides. Your groups will be the next ones up in the rotation. Everyone else, dismissed."

  The teams filed out of the ready room. Duncan poured herself a second drink. Halfway through the doors hissed open again. The Q-Ship's intelligence officer walked into the room. Duncan set down the glass and came to attention.

  The officer waives his hand in a most non-military gesture, "Settle down, no need for that when real brass isn't present."

  He stopped and stared thoughtfully. "You know, brass hasn't been used in insignia for hundreds of years. Not since the first colonists left old earth. Yet, we still maintain the expression. Some concepts die hard."

  Duncan never knew what to expect from Lieutenant Commander Marcus Jones. He was handsome but bore a nasty scar across his left cheek. Every time someone asked, the story changed. Once he fell from a tree as a child. Another time it was from a duel. Then to one woman at a bar he explained that he was ironing his clothing when the phone rang. Jones was a most unusual officer.

  Not knowing what to say, Duncan fell back on the tried and true, "Yes, sir."

  That made Jones laugh. He pointed to the glass and said, "May I've one, please?"

  What was nice was he was genuinely asking. Other naval officers she had encountered would have made the request a demand or order. But not Jones. He was polite to everyone she had seen him interact with. As such, he was well liked by marines and sailors alike.

  "I watched your debriefing. That was well handled. You took a defeated group and made them feel as if they could go back and win. That isn't easy to do. Trust me. After most of the fleet was destroyed, getting the survivors to even step foot on a star ship was difficult."

  Not knowing what to say, Duncan responded with, "Thank you, sir."

  This made him chuckle. "Look, Captain. You don't have to be formal with me. This isn't an interrogation. There's nothing for you to worry about. One of your teams had bad luck. Your end of the operation went as well as it could have. We have possession of the enemy ship. It needs time in dry-dock but it's ours. I'm just here to check on how you are doing."

  He emphasized the word you. Duncan saw compassion in his eyes.

  "You aren't like the other naval officers of this ship."

  That made the intelligence officer smile, "Why thank you, captain. I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me this entire cruise."

  They both couldn't resist and laughed. The tension drained from Duncan. With the release came exhaustion. Between battle and the debriefing, she was ready for sleep.

  Jones noticed her condition, "Duncan, go get some rack time. You need the rest. We can speak later when you will remember what I'm saying."

  He said the last sentence with a smile to show there wasn't malice in it. He turned and walked away before she could protest. Duncan was thankful for that mercy. She left the ready room, and the lights went out behind her.

  In the officer's mess the next morning, Jones sat down at Duncan's table. "Ah, our chef's finest cuisine. Runny eggs, bacon and toast. How does he do it?"

  Duncan laughed even though the joke was lame. Even though most of the food was vat grown protein or processed seaweed from the oxygenation system, it was better fare than she often had in the militia. But she had learned that the space faring folk seemed to always complain about the menu, even when it's good.

  Duncan ate with an appetite. Jones just picked at his food. He looked at her, "How are you doing? That last boarding was tougher than anticipated."

  Duncan took another bite to give herself time to think. After swallowing she responded, "I've lost men before back in the militia. It wasn't my finest day but also not my worst. These things happen. The best you can do is to learn from mistakes and train harder to avoid them. That's why we debriefed right away. While the pain is fresh, it can drive the lessons home faster."

  Jones nodded, "That seems sensible. But how are you doing?"

  She bit her lip as she thought about how to answer. She answered honestly.

  "In the militia, the life expectancy of a new recruit can be measured in minutes at the front. Most of the veterans don't even bother to learn the new kids' names until they've survived a couple of trips out. You don't form bonds with them until they've proved themselves. It isn't kind or nice, but it is practical. It protects you from what seems like an inevitable loss. You do your best to train them and tell them how to survive. But they all seem to find unique and inventive ways of getting themselves killed. I guess for me, old habits die hard."

  "Your experiences of the war differ greatly from mine. You fought an enemy face to face. We battled at distances where they are only seen as small blips on a display. You don't understand the havoc you wreak. Only the damage you take. We lost so many ships that first year. Whole crews disappeared in a blink of an eye. Surviving vessels were declared lucky. We never had to insulate ourselves. But what you and your men do, is so foreign to us. I'm glad I can grasp how you see things. It makes it clearer for me."

  Duncan worried that she had sealed her fate as a combat leader and she would be declared unfit. But instead Jones held out his hand.

  "I hope we can be friends. And that you will trust me in time. I'm on your side after all."

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Duncan reflected on what Jones said.

  Chapter 7: Plans

  The next few days after the capture of the FUP Ship Shrike were busy. Crews ferried between the Q-Ship and the Shrike. Repairs were hastily made to restore structural integrity. Staff held meetings. Captain McDermont, Lieutenant Commander Jones and Duncan had conferences to determine their next plan of action. Everyone agreed that they must protect the damaged vessel until she could move on her own.

  When they turned off the Shrike's transponder, they discarded a large amount of debris to make it appear the ship was destroyed. It wasn't sufficient, but they hoped that there were enough pieces to look as if it had been. Personal effects of the Shrike's crew and any unnecessary equipment were jettisoned. They burned many items to add to the realism as Jones had put it. The battle damage from the seizure of the ship was added to the debris field. The bodies of the fallen FUP Sailors joined the flotsam after a brief memorial service th
at the prisoners attend. It wasn't a good enough display if closely examined. But it was what they had.

  What they had trouble coming to agreement on was the next actions after the Shrike's repair. The Shrike was space-worthy enough to fly unaided now. Captain McDermont wanted to follow the Shrike back home. Jones and Duncan wanted to resume their cruise and capture another prize. McDermont's Executive officer sided with his captain. This wasn't surprising once Duncan had learned from Jones that Commander Kellog was up for promotion after this deployment and was looking for a good recommendation from McDermont to secure it.

  What was surprising was that McDermont didn't declare himself as the tie breaker. Instead he called headquarters with an encrypted report and requested instructions offering the possibilities they had discussed. Duncan wasn't sure if this was a sign of indecisiveness by the captain or was he being a good guy. She hadn't known him long enough to decide.

  Jones gave the captain the benefit of the doubt. Soon enough they received word. They were to carry on with their mission. The Shrike sped off towards the asteroid belt while the Q-Ship took a long winding path to the planet of New Glasgow and where their next target ship would be.

  They were still far beyond the main fleet's operational area. That was the main trade lanes from outside the system to the primary planet. But they were close enough it was possible that an enemy ship might get support before capture. So, this mission would have a much higher risk involved.

  In addition, the more time that the Q-Ship was near the Shrike increased the chances of an FUP long range scan to pick them up. The next ship could very well be prepared to attack rather than just inspect for contraband cargo.

  On their passive sensors they noticed that they'd been spotted, and a ship was maneuvering on an intercept course. It was still too far off for them to determine anything more than the ship's direction. For all they could tell it was a small patrol craft or one of the massive carriers that the FUP fleet had. Fortunately, none of those were known to be deployed in the New Glasgow system.

  By the helmsman's best estimate, the enemy ship was still three days away from intercept. Given that time, the Marines trained hard. In the process, there were several men with broken bones and sprains. She had to redraw her personnel for the mission twice. In the end, she settled on three teams. The first would seize the bridge. Second team would take engineering and the third would board behind the others. Their job was to sweep up or act as a fire brigade if things went wrong.

  The last day before they would contact the enemy ship, Duncan limited training to simulators. This removed the risk of accidental injuries from the teams. It also allowed them to experiment and try out different breaching techniques without the danger of doing real damage.

  During this time, she visited Evans in sickbay. Once they returned to port, he would be mustered out of service. His injuries were too severe for him to return to duty. The FUP had the technology to replace limbs with a bio-mechanical version but that wasn't available outside the principle planets of the FUP. At best, he could be retrained as a simulator tech. There wasn't much in the way of hope she could deliver.

  Neither Kegel nor Daniels were part of the rotation for this combat. But Sergeants DeMarco and Johnson were. Johnson would command the reserve force. DeMarco led the Engine Room team. Duncan was in charge of the team attacking the bridge.

  They would adopt a different pattern on the initial assault. The reserve team would be in the bay when the enemy ship docked for inspection. The two attacking groups would wait in the wings and assault. Instead of four man teams, Duncan increased them to five. The fifth man was a heavy gunner. It was more firepower than needed but it would give them an advantage. The power armor used by the marines negated the need for a dedicated loader.

  Word came on the fourth day that the ship approaching was a local patrol vessel. It lacked deep space capability and was a tender to one of the large capitol ships in system. By the time the passive sensors could make this out, they were within communication range.

  Duncan was on the bridge to hear the hail from the patrol craft. Captain McDermont was in a civilian captain uniform when he answered the hail. He was polite and agreed to heave-to for the FUP ship's inspection of his cargo.

  When he closed the line, Duncan stepped out of the shadows where she had been for the exchange. She didn't want to risk being seen by the enemy and give away their plans.

  McDermont rubbed his chin, "Captain Duncan, a local patrol craft like that has a small crew."

  He waived his hand in the air as he thought, "Something like ten to twenty men in all. The cramped crew quarters offer little in the way of space to hold marines aboard. It's only meant to conduct short cruises. They are within days of being at the limit of their range before needing to return to their ship."

  Duncan's curiosity piqued. She responded with a generic "yes, sir" but was interested in where this was going.

  McDermont stood and paced the bridge. "Given that, lets change our plans. Let them board. Take the boarding party hostage in the corridor and then charge the ship. We will have a quarter of their crew aboard in custody before you enter the ship. I've an idea for what to do with such a small vessel that may help us."

  Now both Jones and Kellog stood and came closer to listen as the captain was thinking out loud.

  "Here is my idea." He waived to the engineering officer to join the group standing. He pointed to him, "Steve, these vessels can be programed to return home to their mother ship without manual interference, right?"

  All eyes turned to the young Lieutenant. Steven Foster's uniform collar felt tight around his throat. "Yes, sir. That's true for most FUP craft. Small vessels such as this local patrol ship can return to its mother ship but also dock as well. This is in case of an emergency where the crew may be incapacitated or the like."

  McDermont beamed, "Exactly. Duncan, when you take the vessel, I'll send sailors on right after you. They'll set up a bomb in the engine room. We'll program it to return to its mother ship and explode when it docks. If we're lucky, extremely lucky that is, we might end up taking out a capitol ship with little or no cost to us. Quite frankly, it probably won't work and may just annoy them."

  The plan was very simple. Setting up such a ruse was easy and they could implement it quickly too. Duncan realized that there was a devious soul behind the kindly face of Captain McDermont.

  With the new mission parameters in mind, Duncan left the groups as they were. The third group was replaced by Commander Kellog. He would welcome them aboard and take them to the galley where Johnson's team three would wait to secure them. Duncan and DeMarco's would storm the enemy ship after getting word that the inspectors were in custody.

  Chapter 8: Discoveries

  The teams moved into position as the FUP patrol craft neared the Q-Ship. The groups were ready and had a sense of anticipation about them as they looked to dish out a nasty surprise to their enemies. Duncan almost laughed. By the time the vessel returned home, the Q-Ship would be so far away, they wouldn't know if it worked or not. Yet hope ran rampant through the whole of the crew.

  Captain McDermont broadcast the communications between the patrol craft and the Q-Ship so everyone would know what was happening. Lieutenant Commander Jones also broadcast updates on the ships positions with a countdown to contact.

  What interested Duncan the most was the youthful sound of the enemy captain's voice. If she trusted her ears, the kid didn't seem like he was old enough to be out of high school let alone be in command of a vessel. She had remembered that youth didn't equal inexperience. She recalled a seventeen-year-old corporal who was one of the most decorated veterans in the militia. He had hundreds of hours of combat under his belt yet still looked like a baby-faced twelve-year-old. She couldn't judge a book by its cover, or in this case by its voice.

  The ship shook when the docking connection was made. Jones' voice called out, "Docking complete. Airlock seal good. Opening doors."

  With that, the b
roadcasts from McDermont and Jones ceased throughout the ship. From a monitor in a side room, Duncan watched as a five man FUP team entered the bay. When the inspectors rounded the corner, Duncan's team left and charged into the enemy ship.

  Hot on their heels were DeMarco and his men. There were no guards in the corridor. Once aboard, they still didn't encounter a soul. The ship's configuration was that of a central corridor with rooms and stations on either side. At the far rear was the engine room, and the front was the bridge. Weapons stations were one to the left and right in the center and another mounted under the bridge.

  They moved fast. They ignored closed hatches and checked any that were open. The sickbay was but there was no one inside. They reached the bridge in under two minutes. The FUP ship was dwarfed by the bulk of the Q-Ship and wouldn't have lasted long in a pitched space battle.

  As they approached the bridge, its hatch opened, and a figure stepped out. He was wearing the uniform of a Lieutenant Junior Grade of the FUP Navy. Upon coming face to face with the marines he dropped the apple he was eating and raised his hands above his head. Duncan waved her hand and one of her men secured him. Two others ran into the bridge. The heavy gunner guarded the space behind them.

  About that time, Duncan received word from DeMarco that the engine room was secure. Johnson's team reported that they had entered and were room clearing. Duncan checked on the bridge. There were three other crewmen. All surrendered without a fight.

  It took another five minutes for Johnson to report back that the ship was secure. They led the prisoners out. A quick check on the ship's logs showed that the entire fifteen man crew had surrendered.

  The sailors of the Q-Ship ran aboard and rigged the vessel to self-destruct on docking and programed the ship to head back to its home. When the patrol craft pulled away from the Q-Ship, they went their separate ways on divergent angles. The vessel headed back for its fleet and the Q-Ship returned to the asteroid belt.