Authors: Thomas DePrima
"No time just now, Woodrow. You go back to bed. I'll eat at my regular time, despite what my stomach is demanding."
"Very good, Captain."
The ship's young senior staff was assembled in her office when she entered. The conference table that abutted her desk sat eleven, so with her chair behind the desk there was more than enough room. The circumstances of the meeting were so unusual that everyone was alert and anxious to learn what was going on. The concerned faces of her officers watched her anxiously as she took her seat behind her desk. She didn't waste any time with formalities.
"My information is sketchy so I know you'll have questions when I'm done. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to answer them. I just received a message from Captain Gavin. Some you probably already know that both the Prometheus and Chiron have departed the area at top speed. We're ordered to depart as well, and as soon as possible. An encrypted message, discovered on the personal log ring of a dead Raider officer, spoke of an imminent attack on Higgins. The Raider ships at this engagement had orders to leave as soon as they had completed their mission here, and rendezvous with another force assembling for the attack on Higgins.
"I suppose I can speculate a little and say that they probably intended this attack to serve two purposes. One was undoubtedly to acquire the convoy's cargo, and the second might have been to function as a diversion, figuring that it would draw every available GSC ship in the deca-sector. And while we were out here, weeks from Higgins, scouring the sector in a search for the ships that took the Mawcett relics, they'd have an almost clear shot at the station. The five ships that comprise the standard defense for Higgins would most likely be overwhelmed by a force as large as the one that attacked the convoy. The base at Higgins has been the only thing keeping the Raiders from controlling this entire deca-sector of space for years, so it's surprising they haven't tried to destroy it before now. I imagine they know just how dear their cost will be. But if we lose the station, the Raiders might be able to regain a significant foothold here before we can reestablish control. We can't allow that to happen. Other then Earth, our next nearest StatCom-1 base is two-hundred light years away.
"All ships except the Caracas and the Asuncion have been ordered to proceed to Higgins at maximum speed. We will not travel together as a task force because the smaller ships would slow us down, just as we would have slowed the Prometheus and Chiron. I need your best time estimates for our getting underway. Commander Rodriguez, how long will it take you to get the ship sealed and ready for departure?"
"Ten minutes, Captain; perhaps less. When I was awakened and informed that the battleships had departed the area, I asked if anyone was outside the ship. I learned that there was a work party adjusting a sensor on the keel. I gave orders to immediately bring them inside the ship and prepare for our departure."
"Good thinking, Commander. Does anyone else need more than ten minutes to prepare for our departure?" When no one spoke up, Jenetta said, "Good. Questions?"
"Since we destroyed thirty-four ships here," Lieutenant Elizi asked, "is it possible that the Raiders will cancel their planned attack?"
"That possibility exists, but we can't rely on it. We must treat this threat seriously. Anything else?" When no further questions were asked, Jenetta said, "Okay. We'll be underway ten minutes from now; perhaps less. Dismissed."
As the officers left the conference room, all began using their CT's to issue orders to their juniors.
Seven minutes later the Song maneuvered for open space as it built its envelope, and then disappeared from sight in an instant. With a top speed of Light-322, it was faster than any of the destroyers, and should be the third ship from the battle site to arrive at Higgins.
* * *
"Good morning, Commander," the image of Captain Gavin said. The message had been received just seconds earlier, while Jenetta was enjoying the first sips of morning coffee in her briefing room. The mug of steaming black elixir was just the first of many that she would enjoy throughout this day. "I'm sure you understand why we didn't have the luxury of a face to face meeting to plan our departure and travel to Higgins. Since we're unaware of the Raider timetable, it was necessary that we return to Higgins with all due haste. Minutes might be critical. By now the Raider hierarchy must know that their attempt to purloin the artifacts has failed. Logic would tell them that we had advance information about their attack and pre-positioned our forces in the area. Taking that one step further, they might deduce that we have advance information on their attack on Higgins. They might still hope to catch us unaware if they advance the original timetable. We have no idea how many ships they've assembled for this attack, but I'm sure they can name every ship we have in this deca-sector.
"You've done an excellent job of pulling that command together and getting the ship repaired and ready for travel, but in the event we're once more called to battle, we can't afford to have you dependent upon a staff composed entirely of inexperienced junior officers. A more experienced staff will be waiting and ready to take command of the Song when you arrive at Higgins. I hadn't taken such action already because, with the battle over, I felt that the current crew was quite able to handle the simple chore of bringing the ship to Earth as part of a task force. Space Command Headquarters would then have arranged for the permanent replacement of lost officers. You'll naturally transfer back here to the Prometheus as soon as we meet up at Higgins.
"The Prometheus and Chiron should make the trip in twenty-four days. The slightly older design of your Light Speed drive and smaller energy plant means that it will take you an extra four days. The destroyers should arrive six days after the Song, assuming everyone was able to make a hasty departure. We stripped the deca-sector clean of available ships for this last operation, so we can't expect any more help beyond the five ships presently at Higgins, and whichever of us arrives before the attack commences.
"There's nothing to do now except keep our fingers crossed that we reach Higgins before the Raiders.
"Captain Lawrence Gavin, Captain of the Prometheus, message complete."
Jenetta leaned back and soaked up the comfort of the chair while she thought. She knew that the command officers of the Song, although young, were competent and fully capable of getting the ship to Higgins without incident. But she didn't know how they would weather the pressures of a life or death situation. Who would remain calm and who would panic was something you couldn't really know until you were under fire. During the Vauzlee engagement they hadn't had the duty shift, so they hadn't really been tested.
Jenetta knew she had to start drilling her officers unmercifully if they were to be prepared to handle their responsibilities calmly during battle. Training wasn't a substitute for experience, but it was the next best thing. The officers would at least know what was required of them during an emergency, and the options available. It also built confidence in their ability to handle any situation. And the training wouldn't be wasted if a more senior crew did take command of the ship when it reached Higgins. Her thoughts were interrupted by a call on her CT.
"Captain, this is Lt. Ashraf," Jenetta heard.
Activating her carrier, Jenetta said, "Yes, Lieutenant. What is it?"
"We have a serious problem, ma'am. Could you come down to storage locker 7-222-1-Alpha?"
"I'm quite busy. What's the problem?''
"We've found a body."
"I thought everyone had been accounted for?"
"No, Captain, it isn't a fatality from the battle. It's Petty Officer Nichols. He didn't report for his watch this morning, and he wasn't in his quarters, so we initiated a search by triangulating on his ID chip. He's just been located. It appears that he was murdered sometime last night. I've sent for a medical team."
"I'll be right there."
It took Jenetta just six minutes to reach Corridor 1, of Section Two-Twenty-Two on Deck Seven. At least a dozen crewmen were milling around the door to a storage locker, but the throng immediately parted to let their captain through. Jenetta saw the thin form of Lt. Commander Michael O'Neil, the chief medical officer, bent over the body inside the room. Lieutenant Ashraf and the ship's chief security officer, Marine Captain Russell Galont, hovered over him. Scattered on the floor around the corpse was what appeared to be a deck of playing cards. Jenetta waited patiently in the doorway until the doctor had completed his examination and stood up. The forty-eight-year-old physician turned and addressed the three officers.
"I'll have to conduct a full autopsy of course, but my initial assessment is blunt force trauma to the head, at the hands of person or persons unknown."
"You're quite sure it's murder, doctor?" Jenetta asked.
"Quite sure, Captain. His jaw is smashed and his neck broken. It's not the sort of damage that could occur from a fall. The striations on the neck indicate that Petty Officer Nichols was facing his attacker, who is probably left-handed. When he was struck, the body reacted to the mass of the weapon and it slid slightly, causing the scratches in addition to the bruise. Nichols' right arm is broken, indicating that he might have successfully warded off a first killing blow."
Jenetta shook her head. "I didn't know him real well, but he seemed like a likable crewman. Who could have done this? When was he killed, Doctor?"
"The autopsy will give us a more precise time, but current body temperature suggests that he died no more than nine hours ago, and probably closer to eight."
Jenetta nodded and looked at the Marine officer. "Major Galont?" Aboard ship, only Space Command officers holding that official rank, or the commanding officer of the ship, can be acknowledged as ‘captain.' Marine officers with the rank of Captain, are referred to as Major as a matter of etiquette to avoid confusion.
All GSC warships carry Space Marine forces as part of their normal ship's company. In addition to their primary function of providing an armed landing force that's prepared to handle whatever hostile situation they're sent into, they handle security aboard ship. They post sentries at all points of ingress and egress whenever the ship is docked at stations or with other ships, and maintain roving patrols on a 24/7 basis. They run the security office and respond to reports of fights, theft, and anything criminal that occurs aboard ship. Marine Captain Galont had majored in criminology at the Academy. The tall, good looking officer felt confident of his ability to handle this case.
"Yes, Captain?" Galont responded.
"As Chief of Security, you have primary responsibility for finding Petty Officer Nichols' killer."
"Yes, Captain. I'll find whoever did this."
"Very good. I want you to keep me informed of any developments, through Lieutenant Ashraf."
"Aye, Captain."
Jenetta nodded, turned, and began the passage back to her briefing room on the bridge, but she couldn't get the image of Petty Officer's Nichols' broken body out of her mind. Killing during time of war, or to protect your own life, she could understand, but to take another life because of a game was— irrational.
* * *
It was just after noon, Galactic System Time, at Higgins Space Command Base, when Admiral Brian Devon Holt's senior aide interrupted the two-star admiral's lunch to notify him of a Priority-One message from Captain Gavin. The seventy-one-year-old officer dropped the salad fork he was using and gulped down the antipasto already in his mouth. Jumping up from the table in his private dining room like an officer half his age, he rushed back to his office and selected the communication from among the prioritized list of messages that scrolled up on his desktop com unit. He watched intently as the image of the most respected captain in his command filled the viewscreen.
By the time the message had finished, Holt's color had paled appreciably. He immediately summoned his senior aide.
"Willem, activate the Combat Information Center. I'm raising the Station Defense status to War Active. Notify the captains of all GSC warships in port that there will be a CIC vidConference in thirty minutes. Prepare a message to all private and commercial traffic in the port that an attack from Raiders is imminent. We strongly recommend that all civilian ships depart as soon as possible and not return until the outcome is known. Prepare another to notify all inbound traffic that Higgins is presently closed and that they should not approach closer than ten days travel time until we meet this threat. But don't send either until I've approved them. I'll be in the CIC."
"Aye, Admiral," his aide said, as he began keying in commands on his com unit. In seconds, crewmen around the station were racing towards the CIC, while others were notifying their captains of the station's upgraded defense status and the vidConference timetable. All off-duty personnel were immediately summoned to their duty posts aboard ship or on the station via emergency recall messages delivered through their CT or ID. Base personnel had never been summoned in such a manner and none wasted time trying to confirm the orders or with explanations for their behavior. Unenlightened merchants on the concourse were left staring open-mouthed at empty chairs in restaurants and empty aisles in retail stores as shopping areas evacuated in mere seconds.
The CIC was illuminated and gearing up quickly when Admiral Holt arrived. Noncoms and ratings were busy removing protective covers from seldom used equipment, flipping power switches, and performing perfunctory tests. The room had never been used for a real crisis during Admiral Holt's tour of duty, but every piece of equipment was tested and certified by engineering techs each month.