by Ken Lozito
“That’s not bad. Wil, can you input Ian’s changes into the simulation and see how that plays out?” Connor said.
Reisman nodded and began updating the parameters for the simulation. “Okay, playing back at one-half speed.”
They watched as the simulation played out. The Banshee did survive the encounter but still sustained significant damage.
“I think that, given the situation, drawing the enemy forces toward the missile-defense envelope is a good way to go. The one thing that’s missing is the other destroyer,” Connor said, and Colonel Howe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “If Corwin and Cross had coordinated their efforts, they would not only have survived the attack but inflicted significant damage on the enemy. This represents one of my primary concerns.” Connor glanced at the Vigilant’s commander and XO. “We’re too siloed in our approach to enemy engagement. I take partial responsibility for that. We need to come up with some combat drills of our own that necessitate the coordinated use of our resources.”
Colonel Howe nodded. “I see what you’re saying. I don’t think I would have seen it if it hadn’t been thrown in my face.”
“That’s why we train. I want you to have a private word with Major Corwin and lay it out for him. His job is on the line if he can’t convince me that he deserves to be in the commander’s chair. I also want Major Cross informed that she’s promoted to squadron commander,” Connor said.
“Yes, General,” Colonel Howe said.
“I know you have a ship to run, Colonel, but I want the tactical officers rotated through here to undergo these simulations and propose changes of their own. The best ones become the standard for the CDF Fleet.”
10
Major Savannah Cross splashed cold water on her face and then patted her cheeks and neck down with a towel. The commanding officer’s room had its own private bathroom. She would have loved to have a shower, but short on time, she’d elected to get some chow instead. If she were being particularly wishful, a swim in one of the lakes near Sierra would have drained the tension right out of her. She wondered if she could convince the engineers who designed the next class of starships to include a lap pool.
She deposited the towel into the reclamation canister that would separate the water from the towel for recycling, then ran a brush through her short blonde hair and put on a fresh uniform. She and her crew had been working for twelve hours straight, poring over the recorded events from the last combat drill. They’d come up with some clever alternative actions that she was sure would meet General Gates’ criteria for success. While the various teams worked in shifts, Savannah and John Elder had taken turns working with them all to come up with acceptable alternatives that would change the outcome of the combat training exercise. Between that and the fact that she’d already been awake for a long time before the “attack,” she hadn’t slept for almost thirty hours, but she’d managed to get four hours’ rack time and was preparing to meet with her XO to finalize their simulations on alternative ways they could have handled General Gates’ surprise training exercise.
Her personal terminal alerted an incoming call, voice only.
“Yes,” Savannah said.
“Major, I have a comlink from Major Corwin, who’d like to speak with you privately, ma’am,” Lieutenant Kordek said.
Savannah frowned. Had the shift changed already? She glanced at the ship’s clock.
“Alright, put him through,” Savannah said.
Major Corwin’s thin face appeared on her terminal. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept much. He was speaking to her from his own quarters on the Wyatt.
“What can I do for you, Alec?” Savannah asked.
“Thank you for speaking with me,” Major Corwin said.
Savannah nodded. “I’m due to meet with my team in a few minutes.”
“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about—the presentation to General Gates.”
Savannah watched as Corwin’s brown eyes slipped into calculation while he considered what he was going to say.
“Savannah, I messed up big time,” Corwin said and sighed.
Savannah felt the skin around her eyes tighten for a moment and then she sat down. “What happened to you?”
Corwin shook his head. “I froze. When those ships started to appear, I panicked. I knew what I was supposed to do, the ROE and protocols we were to follow. I even remembered all the training drills we’d done as a crew, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t . . .”
Savannah leaned toward the holoscreen. “You screwed up. You can’t change that, but the fact that they haven’t taken your command away means you’re getting a chance to convince them you belong in the commander’s chair.”
Corwin nodded and swallowed hard. “I know, it’s just . . . I saw how you responded to them. How’d you even do that? You were ready to lay it all on the line.”
“I hit back, but there were things we could have done much better. As for how I knew what to do,” Savannah said and speared a look at the floundering destroyer commander, “we’re here to protect the colony against any threat that comes our way. I stuck to our mission parameters—protect the cargo carrier. If you think you can’t do that, it’s your responsibility to take yourself out of that chair and let your XO finish the mission. The way I see it, you can try to pull the pieces together and learn from your mistakes because General Gates is never going to let up. He’s relentless in the training of the CDF because he believes there’s a threat coming for all of us from Earth. It’s what drives him, and it’s what drives me. Why are you here?” Savannah asked.
Corwin’s eyebrows pulled together. “Same as you. To protect the colony.”
“Well then, get back to work instead of talking to me,” Savannah said.
Corwin regarded her for a moment and nodded. “Thank you, Major Cross.”
The holoscreen went blank as the call ended, and Savannah shook her head. She hoped Corwin could pull himself together both for himself and the sake of his crew. He wasn’t a bad person, but he lacked motivation. Had Corwin been under her command, she’d have ridden him until he either broke or rose up and confirmed his right to wear the uniform. The Banshee’s crew was no stranger to her no-nonsense attitude.
She rose from the chair and left her quarters. They had a few hours until their meeting with General Gates, and she aimed to squeeze every ounce of productivity from her crew during the time they had left.
She headed to the bridge, and the ship’s computer announced her presence as she approached the commander’s chair, currently occupied by Captain Elder.
“What have you got?” Savannah asked.
Elder’s face lit up and he glanced over at Lieutenant Green, who worked at his tactical station. “I think you’re going to be impressed with what we’ve come up with.”
“We’ll see about that. Dazzle me,” Savannah said.
The crew of the Banshee had come together during this exercise and Savannah felt her chest swell with pride for her crew. She knew Alec Corwin had a much harder road to travel to get the same from his crew and hoped he rose to the task. If not, she might have to replace her XO because he was a prime candidate to take command of the Wyatt.
11
General Gates to infirmary two.
The announcement resonated along the corridor Connor was in since the ship’s computer would only send the message to his location. He’d been speaking with the Vigilant’s lead engineer, who had an idea about updating the cooling systems for the rail-cannons.
“Increasing the rail-cannons’ rate of fire is extremely important. Run the numbers for your proposal, and if they check out, we can try it,” Connor said.
“Will do, General,” Major James Hatly said.
They left the forward aft gunnery area, where Connor had been making good on his promise to personally visit different sections of the ship.
He glanced at Reisman. “Where’s Howe?” Connor asked.
The Vigilant’s commanding officer
was overdue to meet with them.
“According to his locator, he’s already at the infirmary,” Reisman said.
Connor frowned and pulled up the ship’s layout on his internal heads-up display. The Vigilant had two medical bays on the ship, each located mid-ship toward either the bow or the stern. They made their way through the ship, soldiers giving way to Connor. As they closed in on the medical bay, there was a line of pale-looking soldiers waiting to be seen.
Connor quickened his pace and walked into the bay. There were beds along the far wall, and all of them were occupied. Doctors and nurses were rushing around, all of them with face masks on to block contagions. Connor glanced to the side where a desk clerk sat. Multiple people surrounded the desk, all asking questions at once. There was a clear plastic container that had more face masks, and Connor reached in and grabbed two of them. He tossed one to Reisman and put the other one on.
The desk clerk glanced at him, noting the gold collars of his uniform.
“Dr. Allen is down over there, sir,” the clerk said.
Connor thanked her and headed in the direction the clerk had gestured. They came to an area of the medical bay that was sealed off from everyone else, and he saw several medical personnel surrounding two beds that were just beyond the barrier. Connor peered inside and his eyes widened. Lying on the bed closest to him was Colonel Ian Howe, and right next to him was his XO, Major Nathan Hayes. They were both intubated.
“This doesn’t look good,” Reisman said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Connor replied grimly.
Connor pressed the button on the comlink for the quarantine area. “Is Dr. Allen in there?”
One of the doctors leaned away from the others, who were still huddled around the two patients. Dr. Allen waved to Connor and then quickly spoke to his colleagues before going through the airlock separating the two areas. The medical officer waited in the airlock, going through decontamination protocols, and then came out.
“General, thank you for coming so quickly,” Dr. Allen said.
“What’s going on, doctor?” Connor asked.
“The colonel and major are experiencing symptoms of an acute allergic reaction and we’re trying to identify the source,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor glanced over at Ian Howe. “That looks like more than an allergic reaction to something.”
“We intubated them to force the airway to stay clear and induced a medical coma,” Dr. Allen said.
“You have them quarantined. What’s the risk to the rest of the crew?” Connor asked.
Epidemics on a ship could be catastrophic if the crew couldn’t perform their jobs.
“Only a precaution in case we’ve missed something,” Dr. Allen said.
“We saw a line of soldiers waiting to get in here. Has this thing already spread?”
“Too soon to tell. What I know so far is that the colonel and the major ate at the same mess hall, and there have been several allergic reactions experienced by other soldiers who ate there—anything from upset stomach to severe vomiting. In extreme cases, the soldiers in question have reported problems breathing,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor pulled off his face mask. “So if it’s something they ingested, I don’t need to wear this mask.”
“Correct, General. As the ranking officer on this ship, I must inform you that you are now the commanding officer of the Vigilant. I will send you status updates every hour unless something changes, but I expect you’ll be wanting to go to the bridge,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor took another look at the bedridden colonel and major. He pulled up each of their files on his internal heads-up display, and neither of them had any known allergies.
“Very well. If you need anything to get them back on their feet, you let me know,” Connor said.
“Yes, of course, General,” Dr. Allen said.
Connor and Reisman left the medical bay. He opened a comlink to the bridge.
“Who has the con?” Connor asked.
“I do, General. Lieutenant Vladimir LaCroix.”
“I want three security teams to make a sweep of the mess halls, looking for any signs of tampering or spoilage, and I want it done with the cooperation of the officer in charge,” Connor said.
“Do you suspect foul play, General?” Lieutenant LaCroix asked.
“I’m not sure, Sergeant. I’m on my way to the bridge,” Connor said and switched off the comlink.
“It’s a good question,” Reisman said.
“I don’t think anyone deliberately sabotaged our food storage, but we need to rule it out. I am concerned that the senior officers were more affected than the others so far,” Connor said.
“I guess it was luck that we’re here,” Reisman said.
“If we were lucky, no one would be getting sick. The question is: what changed? The Vigilant has made multiple trips to the Titan Space Station,” Connor said and pressed his lips together. He opened a comlink to Sean Quinn. “Listen, I need you and your team to review the change logs for critical ship systems, particularly things like food and water, but expand it to filtration systems and our air supply. And we need a list of soldiers who’ve accessed those systems within the last forty-eight hours.”
“At once, General,” Sean answered.
Once the comlink went dark, Reisman cleared his throat. “Your protégé is coming along nicely.”
Connor arched a brow. “Sean is quite capable.”
“Yes, he is, and he goes to great lengths to serve at your side,” Reisman said.
Connor shrugged. “I’ll admit I do like him. He gets things done and has good instincts. Remind me to tell you how he came to be under my command.”
Reisman grinned. “Diaz already told me about that. The kid stored himself in a high-impact storage crate you promptly dumped out of the troop carrier for a low-altitude drop-off at that first training camp. Kid’s lucky to be alive.”
“You can say that again. Fortunate for him, he stored himself with some delicate equipment so there was adequate padding. Sean has proven to be quite a soldier. If we were back home, I’d have recruited him to be part of the Ghosts,” Connor said.
Reisman’s eyes widened. “Now that is high praise. Too bad Diaz prefers to stay planet-side these days he would have made a good addition to the Ghosts as well.”
Connor nodded. Juan Diaz was part of the Colonial Defense Force but was on leave now for the birth of his second child. Diaz had requested a post that allowed him to train infantry troops, which would keep him planet-side and much closer to home. Diaz was his first friend in the colony, and Connor made a mental note to check in on him when he returned to New Earth.
They entered the bridge and Lieutenant LaCroix surrendered the commander’s chair to him.
Connor sat in the chair and opened a broadcast channel to the entire ship. “Crew of the Vigilant, this is General Gates. A short while ago I was informed that both Colonel Howe and Major Hayes are in the medical bay due to a severe allergic reaction and are being carefully watched over by the chief medical officer, Major Richard Allen. Therefore, I’m assuming command of this ship. We will continue with our mission, which is to escort the cargo vessel Chmiel to Titan Space Station, as well as make our own delivery of supplies. Stay focused on your assignments and continue to execute your duties with the absolute excellence I’ve come to expect from this crew. Gates out.”
Reisman sat in the XO’s chair next to his.
“Comms,” Connor said, “there will be a medical briefing circulated throughout the ship. I want to be informed the moment it’s sent out.”
“Yes, General,” Sergeant Boers said. “Oh, General, I have Major Cross and Major Corwin standing by.”
Connor glanced over at Reisman.
“We’re scheduled to review their proposed solutions for the combat drill,” Reisman reminded him.
“Ah yes. Lost track of time. Put them through,” Connor said.
A few seconds later both Major Cross and Major Corwin appeared on
the main screen.
“I apologize for the delay,” Connor said and told the two destroyer commanders what had happened. “Major Cross, as squad commander for the destroyer group, you’ll present first, but before you begin I have a few things I’d like to say to you both.”
Savannah Cross gave him a firm nod and Alec Corwin looked as if he expected to be yelled at.
“No doubt you and your crews have spent the last twenty-four hours going over the combat scenario that was part of the drill. You were tasked with providing multiple solutions to the engagement, and given the circumstances, I expect there to be some overlap in your approach, so don’t be alarmed if that happens. Is that understood?” Connor asked.
Both of them said yes.
Connor swung his gaze toward Major Corwin. “Let’s get the elephant out of the room, shall we, Major?”
Corwin looked startled to be spoken to and Connor felt his temper rising.
“Major Corwin, I expect nothing but complete professionalism for the duration of this meeting,” Connor said.
Corwin directed his gaze into the camera. “Yes, General.”
Connor glanced over at Major Cross. “I think we’re ready to begin.”
Over the next few hours, both majors presented their solutions to the combat drill engagement. As Connor expected, Major Savannah Cross had done her homework and improved on even his own plans for how the combat scenario should have been addressed. Alec Corwin did come up with acceptable solutions to the combat drill, but there was still a lingering doubt in Connor’s mind as to whether Corwin should remain in command of that ship.
“I think everyone here has learned a great deal. Savannah, I particularly enjoyed the solution whereby you used the Chmiel as bait to entice the enemy forces to come within the missile-defense platform’s envelope. It was a bold move, and I concur with the line of thinking that the cargo ship was already at risk and could, therefore, be leveraged as an asset while not increasing the risk to it,” Connor said.
