Joined In Battle

by Toby Neighbors

  “We have no doubt where your loyalty lies,” Chancy said. “But the duty of this committee is to ensure that officers act within the best interests of EsDef and the human race. Captain Blaze’s disregard for orders—or for human life for that matter—is what makes him unfit for command. Not to mention his warmongering attacks on the Kroll ships. My recommendation, as a member of the committee, is that we remove Dean Blaze from EsDef immediately.”

  “Chancy, you’re a wormy piece of shit if ever there was one,” Colonel Davis said in a low, menacing voice. “I don’t know who you blackmailed to ruin a hero’s career, but I won’t let you do it. We’ll appeal this decision and take it before the Brass.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Stevens. “Removal from the service requires a unanimous vote. It’s clear that while Captain Blaze has acted outside the parameters of his authority, he has done so to fulfill mission objectives.”

  “I agree,” said Bosworth, although Dean noticed that neither of them looked at Rear Admiral Chancy. “He’ll be reinstated immediately.”

  “This is outrageous!” Chancy snarled.

  “No, sir,” Davis said, “your vendetta against a good man and officer is what is outrageous.”

  “Davis, you just made a mistake you’ll live to regret,” Chancy said, getting to his feet.

  “Unlike you, I will never regret standing up for the men and women under my command.”

  “Gentlemen, please, let cooler heads prevail,” Stevens pleaded.

  Dean thought the two commanders might come to physical blows. Chancy looked fit, but Dean had no doubt that Colonel Davis would overpower the rear admiral in a fight—although none of the other officers present would have allowed the two men to resort to violence without intervening.

  “Is that everything?” Dean asked, hoping he could ease the tension by being dismissed.

  “Yes, Captain,” said Stevens. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Thank you,” Dean said.

  He followed Colonel Davis, Admiral Masterson, and Captain Parker from the room. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he realized he’d come very close to being discharged from EsDef. If the paperwork had gone through, he doubted very seriously that anyone could have brought him back.

  They moved quietly through the base until they reached Davis’s office. Inside, Masterson spoke formally.

  “Colonel, with your permission I will return to my ship,” he said.

  “Of course, Admiral. You have my thanks,” Davis said.

  “And mine,” Dean said, extending his hand to Admiral Masterson. “Thank you.”

  “You saved my ship, Captain. There’s no chance I’d stand by while you were relieved of duty for that.”

  He nodded at Parker and Davis, then left the room.

  “What a shitstorm,” Davis said as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. “And I don’t think it’s over.”

  “What do you mean?” Dean asked.

  “He means that Rear Admiral Chancy has a lot of friends who would be willing to help him smear us any way they can,” Parker explained. “The naval branch, at least those who haven’t seen action, feel that we are the stepchild of the service. There are plenty of powerful people who would gladly throw their weight around if it means seeing Colonel Davis removed from command.”

  “Blaze, I’m sorry to do this to you,” the colonel said. “But the best thing I can do for you is give you a new assignment.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dean said, coming to attention.

  “I’m putting you on the E.S.D.F. Hannibal. She’s an escort-class ship, fresh from the yard. It’s an extended tour, as long at the gravity drive holds up. I hate to send you out again without a break, but they can’t bring charges against you when you’re on tour.”

  “With you gone, things should settle down,” Parker explained. “We can put out the fires and make sure there are no more surprises when you return.”

  “I can’t thank you both enough,” Dean said. “I had no idea I was hurting my career.”

  “That’s because you aren’t a climber like Rear Admiral Grayson Chancy. We’re Recon; our first and only concern is to complete the mission. I don’t want you worrying about your career. And I don’t want you to question your decisions,” Colonel Davis went on. “The important thing is that you fulfill the mission and get your specialists home safe. If that means improvising, then you do what you have to do. It’s my job to make sure those decisions don’t bite you in the ass. I wasn’t expecting Chancy to disregard a direct order—that was my mistake. I won’t make it again.”

  “I feel like I’m leaving you to clean up my mess,” Dean said.

  “Well, don’t,” Davis replied. “There shouldn’t be a mess at all. Chancy has a sense of entitlement and has his lips planted on the ass of every high-ranking officer in EsDef, with the exception of yours truly. But things are changing around here. We’re not just the galactic peacekeepers anymore. We’ve got an enemy. Humanity needs EsDef more than ever, and OWFR needs good officers more than ever. Never worry about me—I’ll fight these battles so you can do your job.”

  “I’ll make you proud, sir.”

  “You already have, Blaze. Now get out of here and report to the Hannibal.”

  Dean snapped off a salute, which Colonel Davis returned. Captain Parker extended a hand, which Dean shook. Neither of them spoke, but they had faced the enemy together and Dean recognized the look in Parker’s eyes. There was mutual respect and a demand that he be careful no matter what he faced on tour. Then Dean left the Colonel’s office and checked his data pad. His new orders flashed onto the message screen while he was reading a note from Esma.

  Just returned to SB13, may have a little time. Can you meet?

  Dean felt resentment rising up inside him. He had been rescued from Rear Admiral Chancy’s campaign to get him sacked, but Dean was still paying a price. He could handle being shipped off and missing the opportunity to give direct testimony of his encounter with the Kroll, even though it could lead to a promotion down the line. His father was always saying that to get ahead in life, whom you knew was more important than what you knew. Being sent out on tour again would keep him from making connections with EsDef decision makers, and even worse, it would keep him from seeing Esma again. And while Dean might dismiss the fact that he was losing a career opportunity, time with Esma was too precious to miss even a minute, and he couldn’t help but feel resentment toward the Chancys.

  He didn’t have time to meet with Esma. The only thing he could do was stop long enough to type out a quick reply, then read his orders and get to his ship.

  Chapter 3

  The Hannibal was an escort ship, which meant it was smaller than the Apache and had a much smaller crew. Dean was met by the executive officer at the airlock.

  “Dean Blaze, reporting for duty,” Dean said as he stepped into the artificial gravity field and felt his stomach drop for a second while his body adjusted.

  “Captain Blaze,” the XO said with a smile. “It’s an honor to have you aboard.”

  The executive officer was Harold Hines, a tall, fit-looking officer, but older than Dean expected. His face was creased with deep worry lines, and his short-cropped hair was nearly all a dirty gray color.

  “Thank you,” Dean said, noting that Hines was of equal rank.

  “Let me show you around. Won’t take long,” the XO said. “The Hannibal is a new class of ship for EsDef. It’s part transport, part escort, and the ship yards have cranked out half a dozen of these with the new gravity drives due to the buildup of forces in preparation for the Kroll.”

  “Sounds like a smart idea,” Dean said. “We need ships that can keep up with them.”

  “The Hannibal is fast, that’s for certain.”

  He took Dean down the wide central corridor. The ship was essentially one long tube, with additional spaces on each side near the middle and an open bridge concept. The nose of the ship was the cargo bay area, which had two shuttles. One was
a Raptor-class Recon shuttle, the other was a passenger shuttle. They both sat in cradles that occupied almost the entire cargo bay, although there was a small supply section and storage nooks on either side of the shuttles.

  “This is the concourse,” Hines was explaining. “Almost everything done on this ship will be carried out in this area.”

  Dean looked down the large open area. He guessed the concourse was thirty feet wide and at least that tall in the center of the arching ceiling above. It was well lit with small LED bulbs and looked more like a shopping mall than a spaceship. There were well-groomed trees in large pots that were built into sections along each wall. Between the small trees were rows of planters with bushy ferns spilling up and over the sides. Like the Apache, the gravity drive was built in the center of the ship. It was a tall pod covered in glossy white panels that reflected the light.

  Between the cargo bay and large gravity drive was a three-dimensional printer that could produce materials to repair the ship and the gravity drive. As Dean watched, two men ran a diagnostics check on the large machine. Around them was a generous open space, and the concourse had an open, airy feeling that Dean found very refreshing after spending his first two tours on older ships with tight corridors and small rooms.

  Behind the gravity drive was the bridge, including a section for two operators. Dean had never seen a ship without an enclosed command center, but he liked the feeling of the new ship. It was as if there were no divisions between ship officers and crew. Dean always thought of himself as a step removed from the other officers aboard a star ship. He was equal in rank but had none of the skills required to man the vessel. Even operators had similar workstations and duty routines. Force Recon was entirely different and usually left to their own devices, but on the Hannibal, there wasn’t room for compartmentalization.

  “I’m surprised the bridge isn’t enclosed,” Dean said.

  “Well, the Hannibal isn’t a military vessel, strictly speaking. It doesn’t have a reinforced hull or a weapons system. It relies on speed for defense.”

  “But what if the hull is compromised?”

  “As long as the gravity drive is operational, it can project a magnetic field around the bridge to maintain atmosphere.”

  “And if the gravity drive is disabled?” Dean asked.

  “We have hard vacuum emergency suits,” the XO explained. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have time to suit up before the worst happens. And the maintenance crew can manufacture any part of the ship. It’s really a wonderful advancement.”

  Dean realized the ship would be lost if it was attacked, which didn’t make him feel at ease. It was a simple design, one that could be mass-produced at speed with minimum cost. If one of the new escort vessels was lost to the Kroll, it wouldn’t hurt the fleet, and it wouldn’t give their enemy a major advancement in technology.

  At the rear of the ship was a multipurpose space that served as the REC room and training facility for the ship’s Recon platoon. It was nothing like the immersive experience of the training dome in the Apache: just simple VR headsets, exercise equipment, and an open space where small groups could gather to visit or play games together. Along the starboard side of the concourse were the crew quarters. On the port side there was a mess hall, the Recon Ready Room, and guest quarters. All told, the Hannibal was a simple, streamlined ship. If not for the open concept, Dean knew it would have been very claustrophobic. He was happy that the ship had the new artificial gravity system, but he couldn’t help but wonder just how happy he would be on such a small vessel on a long tour.

  “We only have five naval officers on board,” Hines explained as they stood to the side of the bridge and pointed each member of the crew out to Dean. “The commander is Vice Admiral Nathan Anders. The Hannibal is his first assignment as the senior officer.”

  He pointed out a plain-looking woman with a large nose and what Dean thought were sad eyes. She had straight hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, and the baggy, black utility fatigues she wore hung on her thin body almost as if they were two sizes too large.

  “We have no weapons or defensive systems, which means that we only need a communications officer, Lieutenant Donika Gretskey. We have a navigational expert, Lieutenant Sheldon Myers,” Hines went on, pointing to a red-headed man hunched over his station monitor. “And chief engineer, Monica Plegg.”

  The female engineer was running a systems analysis of the gravity drive, which was projected holographically from her workstation. She could turn the hologram a full three hundred and sixty degrees, zoom in on any part of the gravity drive, and even flip it upside down with simple hand motions.

  “We also have two NCOs in charge of ship maintenance: petty officers O’Donnel and Banes. Private Jason Getty is our custodian and Corporal LaQuita Franklin is our culinary specialist. We also have two operators. Lieutenant Ignatius Chappelander is our primary drone pilot, and Sergeant Margot Fennes both serves as a backup pilot and maintains the shuttles.”

  Hines, with his tour of the ship complete, shook Dean’s hand and headed back to his station near the vice admiral. The XO was clearly the oldest person on board, and Dean had no idea why he wasn’t in command. He was a friendly person and certainly seemed capable enough.

  Dean’s next stop was his private quarters. Unlike the cabins on the Apache, the Hannibal had small living spaces. Dean hung his utility fatigues in the skinny locker, which was the only storage space in his cabin, and tucked the rest of his belongings away in a small drawer at the bottom or on the equally small shelf space at the top before surveying his new accommodations. The only word that described his personal quarters on the ship was tiny. It was laid out much like the temporary berths on Space Base 13, with a murphy bed that folded into the wall, a bathroom, and a workstation that was nothing more than a view screen and stool. There was no other furniture in the cabin, and there was nothing dividing the shower stall or toilet from the sleeping area. It reminded Dean of a micro-hotel his family had stayed in on vacation when he was a child. There was little doubt in Dean’s mind that he wouldn’t spend much time in the tiny quarters, and he was glad to get back out to the main section of the ship where everything seemed open and airy in comparison to his cabin.

  “Everything squared away?” Vice Admiral Anders asked, looking up from his command chair.

  “Yes, sir!” Dean said, realizing that privacy was nonexistent on the small escort ship.

  “Very good,” the young commander proclaimed. “Your platoon is already on board and waiting for you in the REC area. We’re heading out soon, so don’t wait too long to get your correspondence done. We’ll be out of the system in just over three hours.”

  “Thank you, Vice Admiral.”

  “We go by surnames here aboard the Hannibal. A new ship like this will take some getting used to. Just call me Anders and we’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Dean said. “It’s a pleasure to serve with you.”

  “Likewise, Blaze. Always good to have a hero on board.”

  “I’m not a hero, sir. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Well, you’re a highly decorated officer and I’ve read about your exploits with the Kroll in the Alrakis system. We’re all looking forward to hearing more about that.”

  Dean had the distinct impression that his new commanding officer thought of the attack on the Alrakis Ship yards as nothing more than good entertainment. It was the first time Dean had considered age and experience to be a factor in an officer’s qualifications, and he suddenly wished the Hannibal’s commander was older.

  “Anytime, sir. I’ll see to my platoon now, with your permission.”

  “Of course.”

  Dean made his way past the command section of the ship and into the REC area, which was, like everything else on the ship, compact and minimalistic. There was a small view screen on the rear wall at the very stern of the ship with a view from the ship’s external camera. He could see that they were already underway. Space Base 13 was shr
inking in the distance. He had been on the same post as Esma, but his chance to see her again had slipped from his grasp.

  “Ten hut!” Joaquin Chavez shouted as soon as Dean entered the REC room. “Captain on deck.”

  Dean’s platoon was back to full strength after the devastating battle they’d fought on the Kroll ship. Sergeant Grady “Ghost” Bradus had healed; the deep lacerations in his chest and shoulders had left scars, but he had full range of motion and his strength was returning. Private Trey Carter had suffered from burns on his back, but he too was fully healed, and Dean guessed the big Heavy Armor Specialist had been issued new armor. Fast Attack Specialist Corporal Cathryn Valosky had been killed in action, and even though Dean hadn’t been aware of it, a new FA Specialist had been assigned to his Wolfpack platoon. Dean walked up to the new private and looked at the eager man.

  “Name?” Dean asked.

  “Private Cody Loggins, sir!”

  “Is this your first tour, Private?”

  “Yes sir, but I’m ready to make you proud, Captain.”

  “Alright, platoon, I take it everyone is settled.”

  “I saw to it myself, sir,” Chavez said. “I even checked our supplies and found everything to be shipshape.”

  “Excellent,” Dean said. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time for leave between tours, but Rear Admiral Chancy was anxious to cause trouble and Colonel Davis thought it best if we were out of the system. Take the opportunity to log any correspondence now. We’ll be out of comms range in a couple of hours. We start training together at 0600 in the morning. Until then, you are free to do as you please. Just remember we’re on a small ship, people. Don’t do anything to embarrass us or you’ll spend more time in your quarters than is healthy.”

  “Roger that, Captain,” Chavez said. “Platoon, dismissed!”