Sixteenth Watch

by Myke Cole

  Which is why Fraser’s question took her completely off guard.

  “Let us suppose,” Fraser steepled his fingers, resting his chin atop them, “that you’re coxs’un of a Rhino Class small boat. You have what you believe to be a quarantine runner inbound to Chinese-held space, but you are on an intercept course at a distance of half a nautical mile and closing, with both vessels moving at approximately thirty knots. You have an autocannon fixed to the boat’s hard point, and you have target lock on the unknown vessel. It has no transponder code and you cannot determine its port-of-origin, port-of-call, flag or status.”

  “And I’m assuming that it doesn’t respond to hails,” Oliver had a sickening feeling she knew where Fraser was going.

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “And you want to know if I have the guts to open fire? Is that it, general?”

  “The board,” General Fraser smiled, “would like to know how you would respond to this particular contingency.”

  Oliver swallowed, willed the flush that was rising to her cheeks away. He wants me to pick a side. This question isn’t about my competence to graduate this class, it’s about how I’ll run my unit when I get to Pico. “I would accelerate to towing range, and get a visual on the unknown vessel’s hull markings, or I would look to see if I could get a visual ID on the vessel master through a window.”

  The Navy board member coughed to cover his surprise. “A… visual? With your naked eyes?”

  “That’s right,” Oliver said. “General Fraser said I couldn’t get a transponder signal and couldn’t determine anything about the vessel or its occupants through sensors. That leaves me with my eyes.”

  Fraser smiled. “It also leaves you with your weapon, captain.”

  “That’s right, it does,” Oliver said, “and I’ll go to the weapon, if and when the safety of my crew is in danger. Not before.”

  “And risk allowing a quarantine-runner to penetrate Chinese-held space?” Fullweiler at least did her the courtesy of looking genuinely curious.

  “What do you think will bug the Chinese more?” Oliver answered. “An unarmed miner violating their EEZ? Or an American warship pursuing it into that same space?”

  “Small boats,” Fraser said, “are hardly warships.”

  “Did you, or did you not, say there was an autocannon mounted on the hard point?” Oliver asked. “Not sure what else you use an autocannon for.”

  “I’ll remind you,” Fullweiler said, “that this is an examination board. You will treat your examiners with professional respect.”

  Oliver fought against the rising flush again. “My apologies, Captain Fullweiler.”

  “Captain Oliver,” the Navy examiner, a captain whose nameplate read HUNTER, leaned forward on his elbows. “I find this line of thought concerning. The Moon is on a war footing. The Chinese are aggressively testing territorial boundaries and your people are going to look to you to lead them. If you are unwilling to use deterrent force to enforce US rights on the 16th Watch, how can you expect your people to?”

  “With respect, Captain Hunter,” Oliver said, “the Moon is not on a war footing. But we certainly will be if we go around waving guns in everyone’s face. It will be my policy, as it is the Commandant’s policy, to deescalate at every opportunity. That is what I will order my people to do, it is what I will expect them to do.”

  Hunter frowned, his gray speckled brows practically meeting. “Captain Oliver, how much time do you have out here?”

  “I don’t see how that’s releva–”

  “I’ve been out here for four years on just this tour. And every minute of my time has been spent ‘waving guns in people’s faces.’ I do this because I have learned in my vast experience that is how you command the respect of the PLAN. The moment we show weakness, we are going to have border incursions that are eventually going to turn into de facto annexations. Helium-3 is a critical resource for the United States. We cannot afford to cede it to a hostile power.”

  “They aren’t a hostile power, Captain Hunter,” Oliver worked to keep the heat out of her voice. “But they are damn well going to be if we keep stoking the fire here. Deescalation doesn’t cede anything, it just finds a way to get things done that doesn’t involve shooting people.”

  Hunter started to roll his eyes, caught himself. “You are a member of the United States military, Captain Oliver. Are you prepared to fight if it comes to war?”

  “Are you?”

  “This board is examining you, captain.”

  “Then my answer is this: it doesn’t matter if I’m prepared. Because I will be a cloud of radioactive dust faster than you can blink. And not just me, you. You and everyone you know and love. A lunar war won’t stay lunar, and it sure as hell won’t stay conventional. If I’m asked to fight I will do my duty, but it won’t matter once the nukes start flying here and on Earth.”

  “It won’t come to that,” Hunter’s voice was even, but he looked unsure. “The Chinese don’t want a nuclear war anymore than we do.”

  “Are you prepared to stake your life on that, Captain Hunter? Are you prepared to stake everyone’s lives on that?”

  “That’s enough,” Fullweiller cut in again. “This board is questioning you, not the other way around. Limit your words to answering questions, please.”

  “Apologies again, Captain Fullweiller,” Oliver ground out the words.

  But while her mouth limited her words, her mind reeled off a few more choice ones. And though it took superhuman effort, she did not utter them.

  Her notice of passing the orals came via email in her stateroom, while she and Ho prepped for the maneuvering practical. She’d piped her email to the wall screen on Ho’s insistence, and she saw his eyes twitch toward it as the new-mail chime sounded, in what passed for excitement in a man as reserved as her XO.

  She sighed, closed the lid on her pelican case, began checking the leads on her undersuit.

  “Aren’t you going to read the email?” Ho asked.

  She shrugged. “We passed. I could have gone in there and foamed at the mouth and we’d still pass. We’re like Gonzalez to them. No, we’re worse. At least Gonzalez is a known quantity.”

  “Does it matter that I care if we passed?” Ho asked.

  Oliver rolled her eyes. “We passed. This is just them figuring out who we are and how we’re going to run SPACETACLET. They want to know what they’re up against.”

  “Ma’am, with respect–”

  “Nothing after the words ‘with respect’ is ever entirely respectful, Wen.”

  “With respect,” Ho carefully enunciated each word as he stood, walking to her keyboard. “It’s possible you’re being a little paranoid here. You’re the one who insisted on this school in the first place.”

  “With no damn respect, I’m around a hundred years older than you and I have been at this game for my entire life. I am not misreading the situation here.”

  Ho clicked the mouse to open the email. “Well, you’re right. You passed.”

  Oliver gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you I was smart.”

  “No, ma’am,” Ho said, “you told me you were old.”

  CHAPTER 6

  SUBMERSIBLE PRESSURIZED POD WAREHOUSE HAS BEEN DISCOVERED OFF SABA COAST

  CNN DIGITAL EXPANSION CLARE TOPAN

  BY CLARE TOPAN, CNN

  The Royal Netherlands Navy (RNLN) reported the discovery of a network of submersible pressurized pods approximately a kilometer off the coast of the Dutch Caribbean island of Saba Thursday. Luitenant Michiel Tromp, commanding officer of the Offshore Patrol Vessel Zeeland, stated the pods were likely meant as “splashdown” transfer points for storing smuggled Helium-3 in evasion of US-imposed quarantine. The contraband would then likely be loaded onto fishing vessels or aircraft bound for the global gray market.

  LATEST “SPLASHDOWN” TRANSFER POINT DISCOVERED, CNN.

  Graduation was held in OTRACEN’s auditorium. It was expansive by lunar standards, but still tight
er than a small high-school gymnasium back on Earth. As was the tradition, the facility had no bleachers, and the spin-gravity was stopped for the occasion. Few family members could manage the trip to space to attend from Earth or afford the expense of long-haul lunar surface transport, and nearly all of the bodies floating in the micro-g were graduating students, staff, and their friends already on the station. Oliver scanned the few people gathered against the audience’s wall, and immediately spotted Fraser, his handsome face proud as he observed the marines gathering on the opposite wall, ready to graduate. He caught her looking, flashed her a grin, inclined his head. Oliver swallowed her anger, nodded back, doing her best to channel a duelist greeting a worthy opponent. So many fights were won or lost in the mind, before opponents ever took the field. The memory of her practical exam was still fresh, but she’d be damned if she would let him see that.

  She looked away, back to Ho, then back at the audience. She could feel Fraser’s presence like the heat of a close fire, and wished she could have just one other friendly face to focus on out there.

  While they were still milling about waiting for the ceremony to start, one floated in through the hatch and sent Oliver’s heart into her throat.

  Alice looked exactly as Oliver remembered her the day she’d kissed her tear-streaked cheeks and seen her to the space elevator. The same dark hair, done up in the same careless bun, held in place by a single pencil high on her head to accommodate a hardshell helmet. She even wore the same sky-blue suit of coveralls she’d worn that day, the same steel-toed work boots. As she floated closer, Oliver could just make out the faint laugh lines radiating up from the corners of her mouth, reaching out for the crow’s feet beside her daughter’s sad eyes. Oliver was surprised to find that wrinkles could make a person look even younger, but in Alice’s case, it was true.

  Oliver pushed off from the wall and launched herself at her daughter. She knew right away that she’d put too much force into the push, and kicked uselessly toward a floor that was much too far below her as she barreled toward Alice. The kicking threw her even further off balance, and her charge became a tumble. Alice’s smile turned to laughing surprise, and she spread her arms to catch her mother, sending the two of them into the same whirling pirouette that had made her lose her breakfast during her first day of training.

  Oliver didn’t care. She was holding her precious baby girl. They could spin until the end of time as far as she was concerned. She could hear laughter rising around her, but it quickly receded into a background buzz, drowning in the tickle of Alice’s hair against her nose, the grunt of her daughter’s breath as she flailed with an arm, seeking purchase to steady them.

  The walls, ceiling and floor all switched places again and again, until Alice finally found the wall and they slowly spun to a stop. At last, they drifted apart to arm’s length.

  “Welp,” Alice grinned, “I guess the training didn’t take, huh?”

  Oliver shot a glance over her shoulder to the graduates at the far end of the room, most of whom were doing their best to control their laughter and failing miserably. “So embarrassing. Watch, they’ll rescind my graduation now.”

  Alice shrugged, sending the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun floating. “Works for me, you can come move in now. So? How do you feel?”

  “Like I burned three weeks to learn that I can’t tangle with marines.”

  Alice looked over her shoulder at the proportion of olive uniforms to coast guard blue. She arched an eyebrow. “That is… surprising. I thought this was a Coast Guard training center?”

  “So did I. Apparently tensions with China have adjusted the… sense of urgency among senior decision makers.”

  Alice paused, then shrugged again. “All right, well, I guess you’ll just have to kick their asses then.”

  “Yeah, they were non-cooperative in that department.”

  “Well, they’re marines. Cooperation isn’t their strong suit.”

  “I’m not a big, tough Helium-3 miner like you.”

  Alice’s smile faltered. “Not exactly kicking ass in that department.”

  “I’m going to help you fix that. All you have to do is hang on long enough for me to wrap things up here.”

  “I’ll be OK. Your big concern should be me dying of congestive heart failure. Helium-3 mining is ninety percent sitting on my couch using my phone to control my drones. If I didn’t hit the gym, I’d probably be eight hundred pounds right now.”

  “Christ, honey. You sound so much like your father.”

  Alice lit up, squeezed her mother’s hand. “You think? Thanks mom. Hey, where’s Wen?”

  “Yoo hoo!” Ho called, drifting past posed as if he were lying on a divan, with his head propped up on one hand, the other resting on a cocked hip. He waggled his fingers at them as he slid past.

  “Jesus Christ, Ho,” Oliver muttered.

  Alice detached herself to give him a hug, babbling questions about his family. Ho answered them, then drifted back over to Oliver. “I was super nervous command wouldn’t agree to your mom’s request to fly you in! They don’t always do this, you know.”

  “I know,” Alice said. “I shudder to think of the taxpayer fuel cost to pick me up and bring me here. And I get to come to the promotion!”

  “I’ve given my entire adult life to the guard,” Oliver said. “The taxpayers owe me this much.”

  Ho rolled his eyes. “So, has your mom started complaining yet?”

  “She’s fine,” Alice said. “Apparently she needs to knock some marines around until they learn respect.”

  “She’s already made a good start,” Ho said.

  “Dad would have been proud,” Alice said. “And since I’m channeling him apparently, I’ll also say what he would have said if he were here. You didn’t have to do this. You could have gone straight to your command and let the rank do the talking. Instead, you’ll arrive showing your people you won’t ask anything of them you aren’t willing to do yourself, and that will pay off big time.”

  Alice placed a gentle hand on the back of Oliver’s neck, drew her back into a tight embrace. “I know this was rough on you, mom, and I’m proud as hell that you saw it through.”

  Oliver inhaled the light scent of her daughter’s hair, somewhere between the jasmine of her perfume and the tang of acetone from her work. She crushed her to her chest. “Ah, honey. You always know just what to say.”

  “Argh,” Alice grunted, “I’m not going… to be able to say anything… if you crush me to death.”

  Oliver released her hold, held Alice back at arms length, trying to focus on her daughter’s face, and to ignore the nagging feeling that the three weeks she’d just poured out of the hourglass had been wasted. Alice was right, of course, it would inspire the folks at her new command, but it also had given her valuable intel. She tried to review it in her mind, then dismissed it, focusing on the best summary she had, Fraser’s extended hand, shrouded by the pale-white mist of her emergency oxygen refracted in her cracked faceplate. I don’t doubt you’re ready to lead, but you better remember that you’re not ready to fight.

  Fullweiler called the assembly to order and Oliver reluctantly detached from her daughter and took her place on the podium. The school chief droned on about the complex and dynamic environment on the new frontier, and the challenges the Coast Guard faced moving into the future. “Complex and dynamic,” Oliver whispered to Ho, “he means keyed-up and spoiling for a fight.”

  “Yup,” Ho whispered back, “he sure does.”

  “Christ, Ho, we have to fix this.”

  We will, Ho mouthed back, gently jerked his chin toward Fullweiler in a gesture clearly meant to convey, now, shut up.

  As Fullweiler went on, a man drifted in through the hatch and floated to Alice’s side. He was bull-necked and barrel-chested, his spiky gray hair cropped longer than a marine, at least, a point in his favor. He wore a Coast Guard uniform with a commander’s stripes on the shoulder boards. Oliver could see the qualific
ation pin over his ribbon rack, crossed gold sabers behind a silver shield bearing the Stars and Stripes. Though she couldn’t make them out at this distance, she knew the words beneath would read TACTICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT.

  Ho noticed too, “Looks like the welcoming committee is here.”

  Most graduations ended with families flooding the stage, and devolved into impromptu social events that took some time to clear the auditorium. But out here on the 16th Watch, with no real families present, it was simply over, and the graduates just drifted out as soon as Fullweiler handed them their folders with the graduate certificates and assignments inside. Oliver floated for a moment watching the graduates disperse, before Ho chucked her shoulder and made his way toward the new arrival. Oliver finally sighed and followed him, drifting close enough to make out the nameplate.

  “Rear Admiral Select, I’m Eric Avitable, I’m acting CO while we waited for your assignment.” His voice was warm, with the slightest touch of a former-smoker’s rasp. He gripped her hand firmly, but without the bone-grinding power of the insecure types who wanted to establish who was boss at first meeting. Oliver decided she liked him.

  “I assume Admiral Allen told you that you’ll pretty much remain the acting CO for the first couple of months of my command, with assistance from my XO,” Oliver said. “I’m here to prep SAR-1 for Boarding Action. I’ve been instructed to leave the day-to-day to you until we get past that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Avitable said. “Admiral Allen also said he’d rather that not be common knowledge, and I figured it was best to do a full change-of-command and get the crew used to having a new skipper. I hope you’re OK with that.”

  “I’m perfectly fine with that, thanks. Are you OK with that is the real question.”

  Avitable gave a pained smile. “SPACETACLET has a lot of moving parts, ma’am, and now that SAR-1 is rolled up into it, there’s the whole SAR element which is mostly new to me. But, I’ve been doing OK so far, and I guess a few more months won’t kill me. I’m grateful for the opportunity to lead at this level. Good training for when I make O6.” He raised an eyebrow at that last comment, noting the presumption. Oliver liked his honesty, and her opinion of him rose.