by Grant, Peter
Phase Three of the Crusher was drawing to a close when Steve ran headlong into an additional and unexpected source of pressure. The first he knew of it was when journalists began to send him urgent messages, asking for – in some cases, demanding – interviews. Checking the news headlines, he noted that an inquest had just been completed on the late Commander Buchanan. The relationship between Buchanan and his father-in-law had come under scrutiny during the inquest, as had the Commander’s arrest after his unauthorized intrusion into AIU’s warehouse. Steve had not been called to testify, but his earlier statement under oath about what he’d seen and experienced in the warehouse had been read into evidence. Taking all the circumstances of Buchanan’s death into account, the inquest had returned a verdict of unlawful homicide.
Steve requested a meeting with Commander de la Penne and explained the situation. “Sir, I haven’t been cleared to give interviews by Fleet Public Relations, and besides, AIU should answer any questions related to its warehouse and the incident there. How should I handle this?”
The Commander frowned. “I agree, you shouldn’t be saying anything without prior clearance from AIU and Public Relations. Also, I don’t want you to interrupt your attendance at the Crusher.” He hesitated. “I shouldn’t tell you this yet, but under the circumstances, I’m going to. There’s another factor that’s about to bring you even more media attention. Today I received an advance copy of a press release to be issued tomorrow by the Board of Admiralty. It concerns awards to be conferred for your fight with de Bouff at Rolla some months ago.”
“Oh! I hadn’t heard anything about that, Sir.”
“You weren’t supposed to until tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll send you a copy of the signal first thing in the morning. Keep the news to yourself until then, but you’re to be awarded the Lancastrian Star in Silver, and the mixed detachment you commanded is to receive the Meritorious Unit Award.” He smiled. “I know it’s officially premature, but nevertheless, congratulations on your awards, both individual and unit. I understand the investiture will be arranged at Rolla after you return there, because local personnel will also receive awards, and the Fleet wants to use the opportunity to further improve its public relations there.”
Steve sat open-mouthed for a moment, then collected himself. “Thank you for telling me, Sir. I was told I’d been nominated for recognition, but not the medal involved. I hadn’t thought they’d process the recommendations so fast. Is there any news of other individual awards?”
“There is, but I’m really not supposed to say anything about them. I think you should wait until the signal is released to you tomorrow morning.”
“Aye aye, Sir.” He suppressed a sigh of frustration. He’d nominated Abha and Sergeant Higgs for recognition, and knew she’d done the same for Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw, but he’d just have to possess himself in patience to find out whether they’d received awards. Colonel Houmayoun had forwarded Brooks’ award nominations as well as Steve’s, and made some of his own. Commodore O’Fallon would have endorsed them, and Admiral Methuen had doubtless addressed them in his report to the Board of Admiralty.
“Meanwhile,” the Commander continued, “I’ll approach AIU and Public Relations for guidance about how to handle questions concerning Commander Buchanan. You’re undoubtedly going to have to deal with the news media about your awards, so it’s inevitable that you’ll be asked about the inquest as well. I’ll request that the media be asked to submit questions to you in writing or on vid, and let you answer them as and when you have time. I’m certainly not going to disrupt the Crusher by allowing journalists to invade us en masse!”
“Aye aye, Sir,” Steve said again.
By noon the following day, his mailbox was stuffed to electronic bursting-point. Former shipmates, friends and colleagues sent congratulations, and journalists and news organizations redoubled their efforts to get him to talk to them. Several asked for exclusive interviews, some blatantly offering money in return for an inside track on his story. Irritated, he deleted all such requests without dignifying them with a reply, and forwarded the rest to Commander de la Penne.
One message came from Lieutenant-Commander Bullard, clearly in response to Commander de la Penne’s request for guidance. He warned Steve bluntly that the Buchanan affair was far from over, and that he should say nothing at all to anyone without AIU's prior written authorization. “I expect big developments within the next few months,” he advised. “Heads will probably roll over this. Keep your own counsel and wait for more information. You may yet be thankful that you're going back to Rolla, out of the way. In particular, if anyone tells you AIU said it was OK to talk to them, and you didn't hear that from us first, don't believe them! Remember my warning about lawyers’ tricks? It’s proving prophetic, but I’m afraid I can't say more at this stage.”
Steve was delighted to learn that Abha had been awarded the Lancastrian Star in Bronze for which he’d nominated her for her leadership of the internal assault on Blanco. Brooks had earned the same medal for planning and leading the assault on the pirates aboard Mauritania. Sergeant Higgs’ expertise had earned her the Fleet Commendation Medal, and several others had received awards for combat performance. Everyone would earn a Space Combat Badge or a star for their existing badge, as well as sharing in the Meritorious Unit Award – the third-highest of the Fleet’s five unit awards – and the prize money. No-one in Task Force Maxwell would go unrecognized.
He was particularly gratified to learn of the unit award. They were worn as ribbons on the right side of the chest, setting off the individual awards worn on the left side. In the eyes of the Fleet, the former recognized effective leadership even more than the latter. For that reason, the officer commanding a unit when it won a unit award always wore its ribbon inside a gold frame, as a public acknowledgment of their leadership. Steve had already earned the two lesser unit awards: two Operational Excellence Ribbons by serving aboard LCS Demeter and LCS Achilles at the time they had earned them, plus the Superior Unit Award during LMV Sebastian Cabot’s chartered service to the Fleet. This would be his first award of the MUA, and his first unit award to be worn inside a gold frame. Silently he promised himself to do all he could to ensure that it wasn’t the last.
The news of Steve’s award spread during the morning, leading to a flood of congratulations from many of the other candidates over lunch. A few remained aloof, however. He realized his ‘golden boy’ reputation was still a problem for some of them, and knew his medal would be a bitter pill for them to swallow. However, he couldn’t help that, so he resolved not to lose any sleep over it. He was embarrassed enough by all the attention as it was.
Fran Grunion came in for her share of attention, too, being from Rolla, where Steve’s defeat of de Bouff had been the proximate cause of her attendance at the Crusher. She chatted animatedly with the other students, telling them of the years of neglect that Rolla’s SPS had suffered under the planet’s previous government, and how the service’s share of the forthcoming prize award for Blanco was already revitalizing its fleet and the career prospects of its personnel. She seemed to enjoy the limelight much more than he did, Steve noted wryly.
She noticed his awkwardness, and teased him about it after the meal. “Oh, come on, Steve! If you go around knocking off pirates by the score, you’ve got to expect a certain amount of interest.”
“Yeah, but… frankly, I’d rather get back into the simulator and get on with the training. I’m not complaining about the awards, mind you, but they’re from yesterday’s challenges. We’ve got today’s to cope with.” He knew he sounded decidedly grumpy, but he couldn’t help himself.
She cocked her head, looking at him quizzically. “I guess you have a point, but it’s still an unusual attitude. I suppose it fits, though – you’re also the only guy I’ve ever met who’d turn down a sure-thing, no-strings-attached offer like you did the other night! You’re an odd man in many ways, you know.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m developing ea
rly-onset curmudgeonhood.”
He thought about her remark as he lay in bed that night, and wondered why he wasn’t more excited about the Star in Silver. It was a highly-prized award, and not conferred lightly, but he just couldn’t get worked up about it. At last, after tossing and turning for over an hour trying to clear his mind and get to sleep, the answer came to him. He sat bolt upright in bed as he realized, It’s not me, and it’s not what happened at Rolla, and it’s not the medal. It’s Abha! She’s the only thing – the only person – I want right now. Anything else leaves me cold. I don’t care how many other women are available, and I don’t care about all the medals in the Fleet’s toybox. I want Abha. Nothing else – nothing less – is going to satisfy me.
He debated within himself for a moment. He really needed sleep… but this was too important to postpone. He got up, slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and spent ten minutes recording a message to Abha, telling her about the events of the past few days, and what they’d forced him to realize.
He gazed into the vid lens. “I guess the only way I can sum it up is that I thought my life was pretty much OK, until I met you. Now I know it’s got an Abha-shaped hole in it, and only you can fill it. I want you, not as a girlfriend or lover, but as my partner, now and for the rest of my life. I guess I’m asking you to marry me, darling.”
He grinned, a little shakily. “I’m scared to say that. What if you don’t feel as strongly about me as I do about you, and get offended because I’m moving too fast? For that matter, what if you feel the same way I do, and say ‘yes’? I’ll have committed myself. Am I really that sure about you, and about us? To all those doubts I can only say, I can’t see myself without you anymore. You’re already a part of me. I want to make that permanent, for the rest of our lives. Forget informal relationships, and temporary cohabitation contracts, and all that stuff. You’re too important to me already for me to waste time on them. I want you to be my wife for life. Hey, that even rhymes!
“I guess you won’t get this for a couple of weeks, and by then you’ll be getting ready to pack your things to head back here for some leave. I hope you’ll say ‘Yes’ when you get here. I love you, darling.”
He finished, played back the message, and pondered the wisdom of sending it… then shrugged. What have I got to lose? Whatever she says, it won’t change the way I feel about her. He encoded the message for privacy, then routed it to the next dispatch vessel heading for Rolla and nearby planets.
Smiling wryly at himself, he settled down to try to get some sleep.
~ ~ ~
The fourth and final phase of the Crusher took place in space once more, with three weeks of practical exercises. Their new Teacher addressed the candidates in Steve’s division as LCS Blacksnake departed the training ship and headed for the asteroid belt.
“We’ve got two dozen tactical situations set up for the first week. You’ll be exercising against the battle computer and the other three ships of our training squadron. During the second week, you’ll exercise with and against ships from the Sector Fleet. During the final week, we’ll join the Sector Fleet’s annual war games, escorting convoys to and from the system boundary and forming part of their protective screen.
“We try to make the training environment as safe as practicable, but if we went too far with that, you’d never be exposed to risk at all. We’re all members of armed forces – fighting services. Risk goes with the territory. You’ll be expected to continue to observe all the safety precautions we’ve drummed into you during the course so far, but they may get in the way of your accomplishing a mission assigned to you. If you believe they do, you’re free to ask us for permission to exceed prescribed safety limits, and justify your request. If we agree that the dangers of the situation are manageable with good judgment – and provided you demonstrate good judgment – we’ll approve your proposed course of action. If we think you’re getting in over your head, we won’t. Our default position will be to let you make mistakes in order to learn from them, unless they appear to us to risk damage or casualties. After all, as the old saying tells us, good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment!” His audience laughed nervously.
“A complicating factor during the final week is that we’ll be one of the most junior warships on the exercise. Senior ships with whom we serve – almost every other warship out there, with the exception of our sister ships of the training squadron – are entitled to give us orders and expect to be obeyed. You’ll have to strike a balance between obeying their orders, and carrying out the training missions assigned to you. Sometimes there’ll be a conflict between them. In such cases, ask me at once how to resolve it. I won’t hold it against you – that’s what I’m here for. I’ll ask you for your proposals, and if necessary provide guidance as to possible alternatives.”
They soon learned he wasn’t joking about the complexities of this final phase of the course. Time and time again they were placed in situations where a strict, by-the-book adherence to safety principles would prevent them completing their assigned mission in the all-too-brief period allocated for it. Sometimes Teacher would authorize them to take longer, in order to operate more safely. At other times he’d allow them to take short-cuts, balancing risk against reward and making a decision on the balance of probabilities.
Steve’s biggest challenge came during the second week, when he found himself acting as Duty Commanding Officer on a mission to make a stealth approach to an ‘enemy battleship’ (represented by a depot ship) defended by a screen of four Sector Fleet destroyers. He was to deploy recon drones to observe it. His initial approach was clean, at minimum power and deploying all active and passive stealth systems, penetrating the screen of defenders. However, just as he was about to turn inward to pass closer to the ‘enemy battleship’, Teacher threw a curve at him.
“Lieutenant Maxwell, your gravitic drive has just failed.” In echo of Teacher’s words, Steve felt the hum of the drive, audible through the fabric of the ship, die away. “Continue with the exercise.”
Steve wracked his brains. Would reaction thrusters deliver enough power to allow him to change course sharply enough to deploy the drones? He ran some rapid calculations through his command console, and shook his head. He needed about ten per cent more power than they could provide. He thought for a moment, then pressed the intercom toggle switch to broadcast throughout the ship.
“Cutter pilot to the OpCen on the double! Cutter pilot to the OpCen on the double!”
Teacher frowned, opened his mouth as if to speak, then visibly restrained himself. This is going to be interesting, Steve thought to himself with a grin. I bet he doesn’t have the faintest idea what I’m going to do. I’m sure he expected me to abandon the exercise and try to extricate myself through the outer screen again.
While Steve waited for the pilot to arrive, he called up a three-dimensional schematic of Blacksnake and made calculations about her center of mass and center of gravity. By the time a puffing, panting Petty Officer Second Class came in, he was ready.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly, PO. Come over here and look at this schematic.” The NCO did so, still panting. Steve put his finger on the ship’s spine, just forward of her missile cell.
“I want you to undock and move your cutter to this position using your gravitic drive – ours isn’t operational right now, so you won’t have interference issues. Extend your undercarriage and set her down as gently as possible, right on this point, facing towards the bow. Once you’re down, lock yourself in place using tractor beams, then tell me you’re ready via tight-beam – no broadcast transmissions, please. I’m going to use the ship’s reaction thrusters to change her course, but I need a little more power than they can deliver. That’s where you come in. I’ll have you use your drive to help push her around. As soon as we’ve stabilized on our new heading, I’ll call you back in. Got it?”
“Er… I guess so, Sir, but I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Will the ship
’s spine take the pressure I’ll exert on it? And will my tiny gravitic drive make enough of a difference?”
“Your gel-filled tires will absorb any stresses as you land, PO, and your small gravitic drive can’t possibly exert more pressure on the ship’s spine than full-power acceleration or missile launches. It’ll give us just sufficient additional turning impetus. I’m a qualified pilot and instructor on small craft, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh! I didn’t know that, Sir. In that case, sure, I’ll give it a go. When do you want me to launch?”
“Yesterday!”
The Petty Officer grinned. “I’m on my way, Sir!”
He rushed out, and Steve heard his running footsteps receding down the main passageway as he headed for the docking bay. Behind him, Teacher coughed meaningfully. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Lieutenant Maxwell?”
“Yes, Sir, I am. The cutter’s drive, small though it is, will add just enough power to let us change course in time to deploy the drones and complete this mission.”
There was silence for a moment, then, “Very well, let’s see what happens.”
Events proceeded as Steve had foreseen. The cutter’s gravitic drive and the ship’s reaction thrusters together provided enough power to add the required vector to the ship’s trajectory. As soon as she’d stabilized on the desired course, Steve called the cutter back to the docking bay. As they passed stealthily within ten thousand kilometers of the ‘enemy battleship’, he used the patrol craft’s passive sensors to build up as complete a picture as possible of their ‘adversary’ while launching three recon drones. They moved away slowly and silently to establish a triangular observation formation around the ‘enemy vessel’.
