A Faded Star

by Michael Freeport

  Stokes considered the information Coffee had given him. “Have we considered the implications of any conflict with the alliance forces?”

  “Based on the situation, we've decided the alliance isn't a threat. The reason is that they have yet to launch an attack in their own defense. Their culture appears to be mired in a bizarre kind of moral dilemma. They seem to want to defend themselves, but they can't make the logical leap from a purely defensive strategy to a proactive defense that includes preemptive strikes without losing their sense of moral superiority. We have some theories as to why this is the case, but without a deeper exchange of cultural ideas with the alliance races, we won't know for sure.”

  Stokes asked, “What are the popular theories, sir?”

  “The first theory is predicated on the known fact that the alliance is responsible for attacking and nearly destroying the human race five thousand years ago. We have a partial copy of the alliance's primary database, but there are a lot of holes in the data. Clues gleaned from this database seem to indicate this is the most likely correct theory. The idea is that when the races of the alliance realized they were effectively responsible for genocide, it caused them to make a decision as a culture to never be involved in anything that might lead to such an outcome again. There are a variety of entries in the database we've discovered to date that seem to corroborate this conclusion.

  “The other theories range from neurochemical aversions to violence to evolved cultural norms that refuse to acknowledge the idea that offensive actions can be taken. We don't have any good supporting data on most of the other theories.”

  “We're going to need a lot more command officers. How are we going to man so many ships?”

  “Admiral Misato has come up with a six month crash course in officer candidate school principles. The current classes will be given the remaining curriculum, graduated and tested for assignment aptitude. The six month course is going to be pretty tough, involving twelve to eighteen hour days six days per week. We're dropping a lot of the physical training, focusing only on general physical fitness and very basic hand to hand combat. Most officers coming out of the program will have only the most basic field survival skills. They'll know one end of a firearm from another, but that's about it. Nearly all currently serving officers will be given promotions, and depending on their current ranks, command of ships in the fleet. That reminds me. I have to ask you about Commander Patho. What do you think of him?”

  Stokes considered his response for a few seconds. When he responded, he decided to go for broke. He thought Patho had been unfairly persecuted by Agent Cobb, and this was a good moment to let the admiral know. “Well, sir, I have a few thoughts and observations regarding Commander Patho. First, I'd like to take this opportunity to point out how Agent Theo Cobb of Lashmere Intelligence has been attacking him at every turn. I don't know why this is the case. The warrant they served for the search of his cabin aboard the Rampart was the thinnest excuse for such an invasion of privacy I've ever seen signed by a legal officer. It's unfortunate, as Mister Patho has repeatedly demonstrated his loyalty, aptitude and desire to serve in the Lashmere Navy. At no time have I seen or heard of any action he may have taken that might indicate to me his loyalties or his personal integrity are anything but excellent. I've never caught the man in even vaguely deceptive behavior, and he's gone above and beyond at each opportunity to help everyone under his command.

  “He's a natural leader. The men of his division are performing far above the norm in tactical exercises. He even trains his enlisted men in drone command. Many of his enlisted NCOs are going to make strong candidates for officer training. His command presence is far above normal. During combat with the crab destroyers, he kept his wits about him and literally carried another officer out of a dangerous area single handedly. I've already recommended him for a distinguished service ribbon for his heroism that day.”

  “Yes, I've read your report from the action with the crab destroyers. The award has been provisionally approved once his non-involvement in the Karn separatist attack in headquarters has been established. The reason he's being investigated so harshly is because he's being considered for command of the stealth corvette fleet.”

  Stokes gaped at Admiral Coffee for several seconds before regaining his composure. “Command of the entire fleet? How many of these corvettes are we planning on building?”

  “At least thirty. With the one kilometer rings, we can build about fifteen at a time so two runs of them. There may be a third run, smaller for the proposed research and scientific model. The current mindset is that if we survive any attack by the crabs, or the alliance for that matter, we can build research ships afterward.

  “The destroyer class ships will be roughly thirty percent of our force and used primarily as a screening element for the assault cruisers. We're also going to build the so-called behemoth class.”

  “They would seem to be the rulers of any space battle if we can get them built, sir,” Stokes observed.

  “There are potential problems with the behemoth class. We're going to build a single ship first to test it out. The issue comes from our method of faster than light travel. As you know, the energy for making the jump ring is mostly borrowed from the distortion in space-time it creates. When making a jump ring large enough to accommodate a ship with the mass of the behemoth, the energies required are rather staggering. In theory, the system should work, but there is a possibility that the ship's FTL system could have an unpredictable effect.”

  “The point to point drive is a proven technology, sir. I doubt there's anything we can't account for at this point,” Stokes said.

  “I agree, and our scientific division agrees as well. That's why we're going to build one. If testing works for the first ship, we'll build at least four more. We want to have enough capacity to evacuate Lashmere if necessary.”

  “Do you think it could come to that, sir?”

  “One of the possible scenarios the intelligence division has come up with is the redeployment of the virus used originally by the alliance to destroy humanity. If there is even the remotest possibility of that occurring, we have to have the ability to evacuate the planet and move the entire population to a safe area unknown to the alliance. Each behemoth class ship can carry up to five million civilians in standard configuration and ten million with a significant refit. Lashmere has a population of twenty-five million. Five behemoths would be enough to completely save everyone living here. The added effect is that the ships are true juggernauts. Nothing the crabs or the alliance might throw at us is sufficient to even scratch the hulls of these ships. They have armor that's EM stabilized, uses the newer ceramic-carbon mesh designed in conjunction with the factory ship computer, and it's ten meters thick at its weakest point. A direct hit from our most powerful torpedo might, and I stress might, get through.” Coffee leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I'd like your input, commodore. You and Captain Erickson are the only two command officers we have with combat experience against the crab ships.”

  “I presume you've been using the computer on the Aeternum to run simulations based on the observed crab ship capabilities?” Coffee nodded. “Well, I think the order of battle should be sufficient to defeat the crabs then. We have only a single system to defend, so our tactical choices are made much more simple as a result. We can see the crabs coming with our long range sensor network, and when we know they've committed to attacking us, we can be prepared to meet them with an equivalent force. I do have some thoughts on how to get maximum firepower as efficiently as possible.

  “We presume the alliance is unlikely to attack us based on our observations, and the need to evacuate the system is, in my opinion, remote. While I'm sure that, once built, the behemoth ships would be tremendously powerful and probably capable of defending the system single-handedly, they also represent an incredibly huge consumption of resources. As I understand it, the alliance has been scavenging for resources as fast as
they can get their hands on them.”

  “That's true, Commodore. Apparently, they've been fortifying their primary systems, like Xalcek, in preparation for an all-out assault by the crabs.”

  “Then there is probably an upper limit on how much we can build even with the incredible performance offered by these manufacturing rings.”

  “We've addressed this shortcoming as well. Buckman's star has sufficient resources to build the fleet. We've created a plan to build a small fleet of tugs and smaller resource gathering rings to draw needed raw materials from the asteroids in the system. Those ships are already being built. The resource gatherers can demolecularize the asteroids into raw, pure alloys in standardized shapes for transport back to the Lashmere system. Once the task is complete, the ships themselves can be reclaimed for the resources used in their construction, as we'll have no need for such a large fleet of tugs and salvage ships.”

  “How big are the manufacturing rings going to be?”

  “We plan on using the support ship design for the raw materials processing at Buckman's Star. The tugs will be retrofitted for troop and civilian transport once their duty as cargo haulers is complete.”

  “Sounds like you've covered all the high points, Admiral. If we can set up a sufficiently robust supply line from Buckman's star, we should be able to build the fleet we need. Do you think we have sufficient time to get it done, sir?”

  “The crabs seem fixated on the alliance for the time being, and the alliance hasn't demonstrated any ability to launch an attack against us. We feel we have enough time to get at least the majority of our planned fleet built before the crabs turn their attention to us. That's also with the presumption they're aware of us at all.”

  “I think if we build this fleet, they won't be able to miss it, sir. They probably have a good idea already.”

  “Unfortunately, that conclusion is probably correct. One thing that hasn't been widely disseminated with the rest of Captain Erickson's reports is that the crabs captured an unknown number of our people at L262. At least seventeen life pods were picked up by the crabs.”

  Stokes started forward in his chair. “Admiral Drogue and Captain Hanlon could be alive, sir. Have we got any plans to find out what the crabs have done with their prisoners?”

  “One of the primary uses of the stealth corvettes will be to infiltrate the crab fleet and run scans of their ships to find out of there are any humans being held aboard. I don't plan to leave anyone in their custody if we can find a way to get them out. Until we locate any prisoners the crabs are holding, we can't make any more plans than that. I assure you that we'll do everything in our power to get any prisoners back.”

  “Good.” Stokes felt a sense of relief. Until he'd found that Hanlon had been lost at the battle of L262, he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed his former executive officer. “I hope they're all alive.”

  “So do I, Commodore. That brings me to my final point of business with you. With the loss of Admiral Drogue and the promotions of captains Brand and Misato to admiral rank, the board of admirals and counselor of war have granted you flag rank. When you leave this room, I expect you to put these on.” Coffee held out a small box. Stokes took it and found the gold stars of admiral rank inside. “You will also be reassigned. The first battleship produced, and a second, backup battleship will be modified as fleet command and control ships with enhanced communications and auxiliary battle computers. You'll be placed in command of the first one. The board of admirals has unanimously voted to place you in command of the combined Lashmere fleet. Congratulations, Admiral Stokes.”

  Stokes stared at the golden stars for a long moment before looking up into Coffee's eyes. “Thank you, sir. I'm honored to be assigned such an important duty. Who is being assigned to Rampart?”

  “We're not sure the Rampart will be continuing with us once the fleet is built. It's an obsolete design. It requires far too many crew members to handle it, and its systems are unable to adapt as well as the newer designs taken from the Aeternum's database. For now, Rampart is being assigned to Captain Erickson. System defense will be the primary duty of both Rampart and Rook until the first wave of assault cruisers and battleships are completed.”

  “That reminds me, sir. I have an idea before we got sidetracked. The build time for even the smallest ships is still several days with a one kilometer ring, correct?”

  “That's true,” Coffee said.

  “We could place a number of automated defensive platforms around the system capable of launching drones and the new torpedoes. I'd wager they can be built much more quickly than ships and might provide the system with much needed defenses if the crabs decide to attack before we're ready.”

  That's a good idea, Admiral. I'll propose it. I want to apologize for not planning a promotion ceremony for you, but we are too busy. Please complete a turnover with Captain Erickson tomorrow. Your battleship is planned for construction over the next seven days. Aeternum is building it. You can stay on the shipyard until it's complete.”

  “What are we naming it, sir?”

  “I thought I'd leave that up to you.”

  “I'd better come up with a good name, then, sir.” Stokes thought for a long moment while Coffee watched him expectantly. “How about we call it the Victorious?”

  “That sounds like a great name. I'll pass the order to the construction crew. Your command staff is going to be shaken up quite a bit, I'm afraid. Commander Kri is being given command of one of the assault cruisers, and many of your other officers are being promoted and placed in positions as either executive officers or commanding officers of corvettes or destroyers. You're going to have to train some pretty green men and women to their positions.”

  “I understand, sir. You can count on me to get it done.”

  “Excellent. I'll let you return to your duties. Word of your promotion will be made public knowledge in a few minutes. I look forward to seeing you organize our fleet into an efficient order of battle.”

  “Thank you, sir. I won't let you down.” The men shook hands and Stokes departed for Rampart.

  The next several days were busy but routine. Stokes changed command with Captain Erickson. He spent a remarkable amount of time standing in the observation gallery, watching the Victorious being built. The glacial growth of the ship at the center of the Aeternum was fascinating. Each night he went to bed and came back in the morning, to see a dozen or more meters of hull added. The armored flanks started coming in on the third day and by the end of the sixth day, the ship looked complete with only interior fittings, liquids, and consumables being fabricated. Humans couldn't enter the ship until the manufacturing process was complete. The construction process was fairly hazardous with literally trillions of nanites flying through the ship, dragging raw materials and electromagnetic containment conduits appearing and disappearing at need.

  The afternoon of the seventh day after relinquishing command of Rampart, Stokes was alerted that Victorious was completed. He boarded a private shuttle and was the first man to enter his new ship. The boat bay was a cavernous area that occupied a bulge below and behind the bow of the ship. Inside were three drop ships, six pinnaces and a handful of shuttles in varying configurations. As his shuttle docked, Stokes saw another, much larger shuttle coming in just behind him.

  The shuttle made hard seal with an open dock and Stokes stepped into the brilliantly illuminated corridor. Casting about, he tapped his wrist comp to provide him a map to the bridge. As he entered the first lift, he heard voices behind him. He knew his bridge crew was right behind him. He quickened his pace to get to the bridge first. As he entered, he saw the bridge was about the same size as the one on Rampart. Initially, he was surprised by this, but then he remembered how small the crew was for a ship this massive. The layout was far different, however. A large display wrapped around the front quarter of the elliptical room. The space just behind the screen was open with the command chair, executive officer chair and observer chairs arrayed neatly in t
he center. They had an unobstructed view of the main plot. Auxiliary displays flanked the command chairs. Scientific stations lined the rear bulkhead. Ships handling, helm and auxiliary functions were located on the port side, and tactical and navigation were on the starboard. The colors of the bridge were far different from Rampart as well. Rampart had been painted mostly gray and black with primarily red lighting from the consoles. The Victorious was white with muted blue and green illumination.

  Stokes sat in the command chair and said, “This is Admiral Stokes. I am in command of the ship. Ship designation: Victorious. Confirm.”

  The computer considered the statements for a couple of seconds before saying “Command confirmed. Victorious is under the command of Admiral Stokes.”

  Stokes leaned back in the command chair and had just enough time to begin to look relaxed when the port lift opened. Four individuals entered the bridge.

  The first was a somewhat frumpy looking woman of middling height with light brown hair and vividly blue eyes. She wore stars indicating she was a lieutenant. She stepped forward first and said, “Sir, my name is Lieutenant Elise Woodard. I'm your assigned science officer.” She fidgeted slightly with the hem of her uniform tunic and then went on, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral.”

  Stokes nodded. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. Computer, recognize Lieutenant Elise Woodard as assigned science department head. Confirm.”

  “Confirmed,” the computer said.

  Woodard stepped back, and a tall man stepped up behind her. He was slender with hair so pale it almost appeared white, and his eyes were dark brown. His skin was as pale as his hair, making his eyes stand out among his features. His wide lips curved into a smile as he spoke. “Sir, I'm Commander Jason Bendel. I'm your assigned executive officer.”