Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga)

by Grant, Peter

  Each six-student division had its own simulator, where every candidate acted as Duty Commanding Officer to lead two half-day drills every week. The other students rotated between acting as Executive Officer and staffing the OpCen consoles in the simulator. Matters weren’t made any easier when they found that Teacher would seldom correct their mistakes during the course of an exercise, unless he deemed it essential to do so in order to ensure the safety of the ‘ship’. He reserved most of his comments for the post-exercise wrap-up sessions, where his criticism was often blunt and to the point. They learned to accept his comments without showing any resentment or negative reaction. After all, everyone else on the course was being treated in precisely the same way.

  They learned to help each other with group debriefings each evening, wringing every possible learning point out of their mistakes; planning the following day’s exercises together; and discreetly signaling to the student currently acting as DCO when they figured he or she was about to run into difficulties. Even so, one student in Steve’s division just couldn’t cut it. He ‘endangered the ship’ three times in ten days during their simulator exercises. The morning after the last incident, he was absent from breakfast, and never reappeared. No explanation was given. None was needed.

  The dismissal brought to a head a source of tension that Steve hadn’t noticed before. That evening, during the group debriefing session, one of the other candidates – from the same planet and service as the dismissed student – made a snide remark about his colleague being absent because ‘he hadn’t covered himself in glory, so he wasn’t bulletproof’. He glared at Steve as he spoke.

  Steve felt a surge of annoyance – but then suddenly realized that this was what Admiral Methuen had warned them about after the fight with de Bouff. He knew he was tired and irritable, so he forced himself to slow down and think through his response. Instead of snapping at his coursemate, he asked quietly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know damn well what it means! You’ve got far too little time in grade to deserve a place on the Crusher. If you hadn’t taken out those pirates at Rolla, you wouldn’t be here at all. That also makes you bulletproof. They’ll never dismiss you, no matter how many mistakes you make. It’d be bad publicity for them.”

  Steve bit back a very blunt retort, and thought fast. How he handled this would reflect on him for the rest of the course, and might come back to haunt him in future unless he was very careful and tactful. In the background he saw Teacher listening impassively, but intently.

  “You’re right that I’m probably the most junior of all of you on this course. I freely admit I’m out of my depth sometimes.” He took his official comm unit from its belt holster and synchronized it with the room’s tri-dee holographic display, bringing up page after page of notes. As he flicked through them, displaying them to the others, he pointed out, “One way I’m working to overcome that is to benefit from your experience. I take notes every day about how all of you handle the course problems and scenarios. Every night I go through them, picking out lessons you’ve already learned the hard way that I can use in future. I hope I’ve been able to contribute a few lessons I’ve learned, too. I reckon that’s part of why we’re here, to learn from each other.

  “As for being ‘bulletproof’, that’s simply not true. If I screw up badly enough I’ll be out of here, just as Dorian was this morning, and just as any of us might be in future. All of us have to earn the right to command, and earn it the hard way. I’m no exception. There’s no way the Fleet will knowingly place the lives of its spacers and the safety of its ships in the hands of an incompetent officer.”

  Teacher cleared his throat meaningfully. “That’s precisely why we have a thirty per cent attrition rate on this course. We don’t like to dismiss a candidate. We know it probably means the end of their careers as line officers. Nevertheless, we have to certify to the Fleet and your parent services that our graduates are fully capable of and competent to command. Your colleague made too many mistakes for us to be willing to certify that in his case. He won’t be the last to leave, I assure you.”

  He looked directly at the candidate who’d challenged Steve. “Lieutenant Maxwell is absolutely correct when he says he’s no more ‘bulletproof’ than any of you. He did very well at Rolla, and he’s earned the plaudits that have come his way. However, in the Fleet we’re as good as our last efficiency report. Someone with all the medals in the world who’s graded as incompetent or inefficient isn’t going to get very far. Lieutenant Maxwell’s going to have to earn his graduation from the Crusher the hard way – just as you are.” Steve thought to himself, with a mental grin, that Teacher’s last words had a slight but unmistakable emphasis.

  “I – ah… you’re right, Sir. Sorry, Maxwell. I guess I let the stress get to me.” The apology seemed grudging, but Steve nodded his acceptance. Don’t be ungracious, he warned himself. We’ve all got a long way to go still. We’ll need to rely on each other.

  Teacher looked around at the other candidates. “We know you’re all under stress. We’re not blind. We know many of you are finding this course very difficult. We’re not going to cut you any slack or do you any special favors, because in future, under operational conditions, our lives may depend on your professional competence. That’s the fundamental criterion by which we assess all of you. Are we, personally, willing to entrust our lives to your competence in command? Each of you will do well to think about that before forming judgments about your colleagues. It’s a pretty sobering standard, and it applies to us as instructors even more than it does to you as candidates. After all, that’s the example we’re supposed to be setting for you every day. We don’t take that lightly.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The following three weeks, Phase Two of the course, saw each division of candidates go aboard a patrol craft to conduct similar exercises to Phase One, but in space rather than in a simulator. Their instructors rotated, too, each Teacher moving to a different division, as they would do for every phase of the course, ensuring that every successful candidate would be evaluated and passed by every instructor.

  At first the exercises took place far from other traffic, to allow the candidates to make mistakes without much risk of serious consequences. During the second week they moved closer to the planet, having to pay more attention to traffic lanes and regulations, and avoid inconveniencing Lancaster’s heavy civilian shipping with their maneuvers. During the third week other vessels from the System Patrol Service and the Sector Fleet joined in their exercises, providing ‘close encounters’ that tested their skills to the limit.

  Steve encountered his first major hurdle during the towing exercises. He was acting as Duty Commanding Officer of LCS Blacksnake, preparing to tow a freighter, LMV Crotale, that was simulating a gravitic drive failure.

  Steve discussed the situation with her Commanding Officer over the radio, then made his decision. “Blacksnake to Crotale, we’ll take you in tow. Confirm that your reaction thrusters are on standby, but don’t use them except at my direction. Over.”

  “Crotale to Blacksnake. We’ve been instructed not to use thrusters for this exercise. Over.”

  Steve thought for a moment.

  “Blacksnake to Crotale, stand by. Break. Blacksnake to Hotel-Three-One, over.” He called the System Control tug that was standing by to assist in case of emergency.

  ” Hotel-Three-One to Blacksnake, go ahead, over.”

  “Blacksnake to Hotel-Three-One, I’ve got to move Crotale without the assistance of her thrusters. I’d like you in position to get a tractor beam on her as fast as possible if needed. Request you close to within two kilometers of my position and stand by to assist if anything goes wrong.”

  “Hotel-Three-One to Blacksnake, negative. The closest I’m allowed to come in terms of our standard operating procedures is ten kilometers. It’ll take me eight to ten minutes to close in from that far out, get a tractor beam on Crotale, and add my pulling power to yours. Over.”

&nb
sp; Steve stood thinking for a moment, then made his decision. “Blacksnake to Hotel-Three-One, stand by.”

  He turned to Teacher. “Sir, with respect, I submit that under the present circumstances, it’s not safe to continue with this exercise. We’re operating as a single ship. We’re not far from a major shipping lane, and from other vessels in parking orbits. If Crotale’s reaction thrusters aren’t available, I can’t safely tow her using this vessel alone. Backup from Hotel-Three-One may be too far away to make a difference in an emergency.”

  “Lieutenant, your reasoning isn’t fully clear. Explain yourself further, please.” The deep voice of Commander de la Penne came from the observer’s chair behind Steve. He’d come along on today’s exercise to watch the candidates in action, as he did aboard a different patrol craft every day.

  Steve fought down a gulp of apprehension as he turned to face him. “Sir, when a merchant ship’s thrusters are available to augment our gravitic drive, she can be moved without much difficulty. However, without the assistance of her thrusters, I submit this patrol craft doesn’t have a sufficient margin of tractor beam and gravitic drive power for safety, Sir. We can certainly get her moving, but we won’t be able to brake or turn her fast enough to avoid a potential collision if a navigational hazard arises, such as a ship moving into close proximity. This close to a major traffic lane, and with other vessels in parking orbits nearby, that can’t be ruled out. I therefore respectfully submit that without assistance being immediately available if required, we’ll be taking an unnecessary risk to continue this exercise as a single ship, Sir. If we transition to a multiple-ship exercise, of course, or if her thrusters were available, that’ll be different.”

  The Commander looked at him inscrutably. “You’re sure about that?”

  “With respect, yes, Sir, I am.”

  Teacher asked, “As Acting Commanding Officer, what are your recommendations as to how to proceed?”

  “Sir, I recommend that we call in at least one more patrol craft to assist us in towing Crotale. Our combined tractor beams should be able to control her safely. A third patrol craft would provide an additional margin of safety.”

  “I agree. However, our sister ships are each busy with their own exercises at present, so they’re not available. I’ll contact Crotale and instruct them to use their reaction thrusters to assist you.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  As Teacher called the merchant ship on the radio, Steve mused to himself, They’re not showing any reaction at all – but they haven’t removed me from command of this exercise. I guess I did the right thing, or they would have put another student in my place. Damn this lack of feedback! It’s hell on my nerves!

  Next to him he heard Lieutenant Grunion murmur, “Good call, Steve. I’d have done the same.”

  “Thanks, Fran,” he replied sotto voce. “There’s just one problem. They let the rest of you listen to this conversation, so you all know about the problem. That being the case, what else have they got up their sleeves to throw at you, that you don’t know about?”

  “Gee, thanks so much for that encouraging thought!”

  Grinning, Steve got back to the problem at hand.

  ~ ~ ~

  Their return to the training ship was celebrated with an unlimited-hot-water shower, followed by a mammoth meal in the wardroom. Patrol craft didn’t carry their own cooks or have full galleys, so during patrols – which seldom lasted longer than a week – their crews ate pre-packaged tray rations, heated at a row of sockets along the messdeck counter. Everyone enjoyed getting back to normally prepared food, particularly salads and fresh fruit and vegetables from orbital hydroponic farms.

  Many of the candidates ate hurriedly, then headed for their cabins to pack overnight bags. Commander de la Penne had announced that the weekend would be free, so they planned to take the liberty shuttle to the Dockyard’s Entertainment Alley and let their hair down. Steve smiled as he watched them wolf down their food. He ate more leisurely, savoring every mouthful.

  Near him, Lieutenant Grunion was also eating more slowly. He caught her eye. “Not heading for the Terminal, Fran?”

  “No. I’m tired enough as it is. Adding yet more late nights – not to mention hangovers – won’t exactly help me next week!”

  He laughed. “My feelings exactly. I’m going to work out in the gym, to get the tension out of my system and the kinks out of my muscles, then shower again and get a really good night’s sleep.”

  “Me too! I’m getting soft after so much time in simulators, or the tiny OpCen of a patrol craft.”

  He spent an hour alternating fast-paced aerobic routines with resistance training on various machines until his muscles burned with fatigue, his breath rasped in his throat, and sweat soaked his clothing and dripped down his face. He was vaguely aware of several other people working out, but didn’t focus on them as he concentrated on getting the most out of his exercises. At last he straightened, collected his belongings from the gym locker, and headed for the door.

  As he reached them, so did Fran Grunion. He smiled wearily at her, noting that she was perspiring as heavily as he was. “Did you get a good workout?”

  “I sure did! I needed the burn. It’s cleared my mind.”

  “Mine too.” He held the door open for her. “It’s a pity they don’t have room for a full gym aboard patrol craft.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t have room for a full laundry either. Sweaty exercise clothing would make the living quarters a bit whiffy after a few days.” They laughed softly together as they walked down the corridor towards their cabins, the perspiration cooling on their bodies.

  They paused as they reached her room, and she passed her ID bracelet over the entrance panel. The door retracted soundlessly into its frame as she looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “Care to join me in the shower? We’ve still got a lot of tension to work off.”

  He felt a sudden surge of desire, but almost at once it was overridden by an even stronger surge of longing for Abha. “I… thanks, Fran, I really appreciate that; but I’m seeing someone. I don’t want to play fast and loose with her.”

  She frowned, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t get it. I’ve got a lover back on Rolla, but I haven’t seen him for a couple of months. I’m a normal woman, with normal needs, and he’s a normal guy. We both know we can see other people while we’re apart, as long as we’re exclusive when we get back together again. Where’s the harm?”

  He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Fran. I just… can’t, that’s all. She’s too important to me. I don’t want to do anything that might hurt her.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “Whoever your girl may be, I hope she knows how lucky she is! Not many men would turn down a chance like this, even if they were married.” She hesitated. “You know… I think, in a way, I may even actually envy her.” Without waiting for him to reply, she walked through the door, which slid closed behind her.

  He stood for a moment, pondering; then shook his head and started walking again. Dammit, Abha, you’ve ruined me for anyone else, he thought to himself whimsically. I’m going to have to do something serious about you – and soon!

  ~ ~ ~

  Phase Three of the Crusher began with a reshuffling of the divisions. Five students had already been dismissed from the course. Those remaining were now regrouped into three divisions of five, and one of four candidates. It was obvious that care had been taken to mix students from different divisions, to break up any cliques that might have formed and force everyone to adjust to new partners. To Steve’s disappointment, Fran Grunion was no longer a member of his division. He’d enjoyed their study sessions together, but decided on reflection that in the light of her offer the other evening, perhaps the separation was for the best.

  “During the Crusher’s third phase, back in the simulators, and the fourth, which will again be in space, we’ll address tactical and combat issues,” Commander de la Penne informed them at a joint briefing. “Please understand that w
e won’t slacken our emphasis on safety for a moment. You’ll still be assessed on how well you implement traffic regulations and margins of safety in your interactions with other vessels. We’re not at war, after all, so there’s no excuse to take risks that might be justifiable under those circumstances. Safety violations will still lead to dismissal from the course.

  “Nevertheless, you now have to undertake simulated combat missions and demonstrate your mastery of tactics and weaponry, both solo and as part of a detachment or formation. This is our raison d’être as armed services; to protect our nations, planets and polities against enemies and aggressors. Some of your missions will be passive, seeking intelligence or conducting reconnaissance. Others will be active and aggressive, trying to detect and engage intruders. Some may start out passive and become more active, or vice versa. We’ll throw all sorts of combinations at you, to test your mettle in every possible way.

  “Our final exercise will involve participation in the Sector Fleet’s annual war games for its destroyer squadrons. Our patrol craft will operate in conjunction with Fleet units, escorting and screening them and forming part of their integrated sensor net. It goes without saying that we’ll all have to be on top form to hold our own amongst – and against – major warships.” A rumble of agreement came from the candidates. Steve couldn’t help thinking there was a fair amount of apprehension as well.

  The three weeks of simulator sessions were grueling. Exercises ranged from protecting their star system against intrusions by ‘hostile vessels’; making covert approaches to such ‘intruders’ when they were detected, to gather intelligence using their own systems or deploy reconnaissance drones or other stealthy sensors; escorting convoys to and from assembly points in an environment where attacks from enemies were possible; and functioning as part of an escort screen, where the sensors of every warship were integrated into a network controlled by artificial intelligence software, so that any vessel could access information provided by the sensors of any other. Steve knew that in real, non-simulated operations, tight-beam laser turrets such as those he’d deployed during the fight with de Bouff would be strained to capacity passing all that information among the ships involved.