Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1

Yorktown

Katana Krieger #1

© 2014 Bill Robinson

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 4.1
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  

Chapter 1

Captain
Katana Krieger. I was expecting to be more excited to hear that said for the first time. Captain Katana Krieger of the Union Starship
Yorktown
.
Used to call myself that as a kid, minus the
Yorktown
part. Back then it was the three foot tall Captain Krieger of the Union Battleship
Lincoln
saving colonists from pirates, opening unexplored solar systems, sometimes taking on the entire Royal Navy single handed and kicking their butts back to jolly old England.
You may fire when ready, Gridley. I even used to say that to my mom when she asked if I wanted more vegetables.
It's a good thing that short person didn't have to listen to 90 minutes of talking about how wonderful President Angelos is and how this Congress is the first in 400 years to work together and get something great accomplished, or she might have stayed a farmer.
I had had more than enough 10 minutes in, despite the fact I knew what was coming and had my poker face armed and ready. The grown up Captain Krieger dearly wanted to test her brand new missile launchers at very close range.
You may fire when ready, Gridley.
The disgust rolled off the assembled Navy officers like atmospheric concussion waves after a nuclear assault, though I'm sure that was lost to the folks on stage.
And, on top of that, did we really need to spend a ton of money on a christening ceremony? Fly an entire circus of politicians all the way from the Congressional Center on Canada 2 to Earth just for a photo op? Congress just whacked half the fleet from the budget, wasn't there even one of them smart enough to understand what our reaction would be?
The ceremony's symbolic, more for the world than for us, I get that, but in the weightless world of an orbital shipyard there are no ways for the ship to slide down, no white water explosion as the waiting ocean accepts it's newest traveler, and hides it briefly beneath a wall of spray, no breath holding while we make sure the stern isn't going to end up in the mud, or the ship starts taking water. No sound of crack, splash, and bobble.
Armstrong Station orbits 5,000 kilometers above the planet Earth, a cylinder 10,000 feet long and more than 500 feet in diameter, a zero gee factory capable of building a dozen warships of different classes simultaneously, with many more in dry dock for repairs. The fact that there are only four currently being built, and only two 800 ton corvettes on schedule to lay their keels in the next two years might belay the story we're being fed by the suits on the stage.
And, yes, the Union Navy is completely schizo and uses meters and kilometers to measure long distances and feet, inches, pounds, and gallons to measure the small stuff. And, no, there hasn't been a ship navigation accident because of it in at least, oh, a couple months. When you put together a civilization from countries where most of the people used meters and most of the money used feet, you get what you pay for.
The last of the politicians is finally done, chairman of some committee who along with five others is taking half credit each for building one ship, and Admiral Robert Bode, Naval advisor to the President, has put his perfectly combed head of wavy blonde hair back up at the microphone acting as the master of ceremonies. He might be the only Navy officer smiling within 40 light years, and I have no clue why, though it is not helping the face with the nose the size of at least half Jupiter's moons.
USS
Yorktown
, on the other hand, is gorgeous, a 300 foot long, 50 foot diameter black, shiny, lethal mass of metal. A 300 foot long, 50 foot diameter frigate moored in a 350 foot long, 90 foot wide assembly dock. The entire christening party has to fit within the meager space created at the bow where the ship, for the sake of tradition not function, gets pointy.
A small stage with three officers and six politicians is wedged there, white polyester sheets carefully arranged to conceal the fact that it was welded together out of scrap metal in the past two days. Another sheet, dyed to the colors of the Congress of the Confederation, is wrapped around the back. You can't take great photos with a ship as highly reflective as
Yorktown
20 feet away sending your flash back at you, and who knows what damage these fools would do to the Navy if the public relations shots weren't perfect.
A line of senior officers is standing at attention three feet in front of the stage on black velcro carpet, the commanding admiral from each of the four Earth stations, and a few extras from who knows where. I am standing at the left end of the line, my crew and our Marine detachment standing behind us, and maybe 50 folks from the shipyard, some who built the ship, and some who only wished they had, floating nearby or sitting on the ship looking down at us. A few of whom owe their pink slips to the President and the suits on the stage. No tomatoes have come sailing into view, suggesting they must have done a vegetable search before they admitted folks into the dock. Or should that be a fruit search?
At the moment, though, the real problem is standing at attention in zero gravity. We have on our dress moccasins with velcro soles under our full dress blue uniforms which theoretically makes the standing vertical and looking good part easy. If you don't move your feet, you literally don't move.
The weightlessness and wind in our faces from the life support systems, though, combine to turn us into an undignified sea of blue coats swaying in the summer breeze. Absolutely no way to stand perfectly straight, or perfectly still, even for an embarrassed Marine. And, it is perfectly possible to fall asleep and remain perfectly at attention, waving unconsciously with the other Whitmanesque leaves of grass.
I'd never met the ancient (retired) admiral standing two spots to my right before today, but less than a half hour into the speeches he was asleep and snoring loudly, each haggard, jerking inhale a sharp reminder of what we really thought. No one in uniform woke him, we let his snores speak for us.
Yorktown
is my ship. Not my first, hopefully not my last, but definitely the one that will be hanging on my wall at the old sailors home if I live that long. She's the first of her class, FA- 1, and, in my book, the new flagship of the Union fleet.
Admiral Chase Everingham, Chief of Naval Operations (ChiNO) and the last speaker of the day on stage, snaps me from my reverie as he starts walking the jerky walk of the velcro footed toward the podium. I keep hoping he'll execute a weightless push with a front tuck and roll just before the landing, but I know it's not happening.
I do make a quick personal sit rep before he starts. Uniform? Check. Uncomfortable and itchy, but check. Hair? Still tied up under the dress cap, pretending to be regulation length, I hope. Cautious check. Face? Big Smile. Check.
I made the rookie mistake of not locating the video cameras that might want a picture of the captain of the Navy's newest ship, so a little extra care is in order before the Admiral gets in position and clears his throat. I know he won't speak a tenth as long as anyone else, and he'll say more that matters.
"Five years ago, the citizens of the Union elected a new administration which promised reform and smaller, more efficient government. This would not be an easy task with those citizens scattered across 47 diverse solar systems, and Union territory embracing almost 400 more yet to be colonized."
"Part of the plan was a new doctrine for the Navy. For the 100 years we warred with the Royal Navy and Dynastic Fleet we built our forces around ships of the line, battleships capable of controlling large regions of space through their own firepower and the coordinated impact of the cruisers and destroyers in their battle group. For the past 100 years, fresh ships of the line and those who sailed them maintained the peace by promising instant and unimaginable retaliation against any transgression."
"In today's environment such large ships were deemed inefficient. We were asked to move them into ordinary, and carry out our mission with four battle groups, each built around a single cruiser and four destroyers, plus an assortment of small destroyer based task forces.
"This new doctrine is not unique to us. Empress Hwang Soo Jee has borrowed our doctrine and remade the Dynastic Fleet into a force with no ship larger than our destroyers, counting on numbers and new technology to replace the raw firepower of old. And the Royal Navy, while maintaining the traditional battle doctrine, now sails almost an entire fleet older than the men and women who serve on them."
ChiNO is tall, thin, and rock hard, his famously full black head of hair lately speckled with grey and beginning to thin. He was the long time commander of one of those ships headed into storage, and the language I've heard him use toward the president's plan would get him retired if he said it on stage. Wonder who they got to write the speech for him.
"The Navy spends almost all its time assisting ships and stations in distress, fighting the pirates who prey on merchants moving goods and people from system to system, and dealing with smugglers who move contraband from planet to planet. To that end, the Navy saw the need for a new type of ship, one capable of reacting quickly and with great force in an increasingly unpredictable battle space, a concept to which the Administration quickly agreed." Yeah. Agreed after we agreed to build four of them on two remote shipyards in key systems, notably the president's home and that of the speaker of the Congress of the Confederation.
"The results of the doctrinal change we have made are floating in this shipyard, and at the yards orbiting in the Argentina and California star systems. Six new frigates to be launched over the next six years, six new beginnings." He pauses for a moment. "I envy those lucky enough to serve on them."
He turns toward the 8,000 ton spacecraft behind him and presses a button on a hidden control, engaging a holographic image of a champagne bottle which swings downward and shatters against the side of the ship. Then comes a laser show which must have been designed by someone with no Naval background because the faux ships flying by are the very ones whose flying days are past.
"I christen thee
Yorktown
, may fortune favor all who sail on her." He stands at attention as his right arm snaps upward and then back to his side in crisp salute, echoed by every service man and woman in the yard. How many hundreds of years now has that sound been the harbinger of loyalty and pride?
That snap is my cue.
Walking as best I can as near to attention as I can manage, I take a giant step forward, snap sharply to my left (a move that takes a lot of practice with velcro shoes), take two measured steps and ascend the platform to the stage. One more step and I am facing ChiNO, who, still at attention, salutes me. I return it as crisply as possible, my head well below his.
From the inner pocket of my jacket I remove my pad, step forward to the microphone, and read. I did this for real more than a year ago, this go round is for show.
"Captain Katana Krieger, you are hereby ordered to report to Armstrong Station on 1 January, 2485, and assume command of Union Star Ship
Yorktown
. Standard transfer protocols apply. Everingham, Admiral, commanding." I was still a Commander when I got that, the Navy more concerned with it sounding correct than being correct.
"I hereby assume command. As Commander Earnest Evans, USN, said before assuming command of USS
Johnston
, ‘This is going to be a fighting ship. I intend to go in harm's way, and anyone who doesn't want to go along had better get off right now.' Evans made
Johnston
a legend. We will make the Union just as proud of
Yorktown
." I turn toward my crew, and salute them.
The Navy anthem comes booming out of the probably imported sound system, no room for a real band in the tight space, and I take advantage of the chance to sing along with no one able to complain about my lack of pitch. When your boss's boss says he's envious of you, it's a moment to let it all out.
ChiNO turns back to the crowd as the music ends, and in a clear voice calls out, "Company Dismissed." The honor guard snaps to attention, as do we, brings up the Union flag, 50 stars in one corner, and a multi-colored stripe for each country that joined, mirroring what once was it's national banner. Truly ugly, but so is most compromise. They march off the stage, seemingly unaffected by the velcro holding their feet in place, followed by the politicians and admirals accompanied by the Union Anthem, then the admirals next to the stage, including the sleeper now awakened. Well timed, they leave our sight just as the last long note dies out.
Then I exit the stage, following in their footsteps. Normally, I would float to the tube, but I had been warned to walk, and walk slowly.
By tradition, the senior commanders line the last bit of carpet before the tube entrance that leads to the new ship, and the new captain has to walk the line exchanging a salute and handshake with each. My first exchange is with Admiral Sleepy (yes, him), my second with Admiral Grumpy, and my third with Admiral Dopey. No, I don't remember their names.
Admiral Showalter, my ex-boss who commands the
William Tecumseh Sherman
and her battle group, gets a somewhat unprofessional hug from me after the salute. I learned a lot from him while commanding the
Ayacucho
, and I know his recommendation is what got me ahead of all the senior officers who wanted
Yorktown
. He's about my father's age, still a man who takes his zero gee exercises seriously.
He sends me off with his favorite line to his subordinates, "Don't frak it up."
ChiNO is next to last, followed by Admiral John Benson, FRIGCOM, the man assigned the task of building the frigate corps from nothing. His bald head is shiny in the glaring light of the cameras recording the event, the reflections off
Yorktown
adding to the spectacle. My guess is that he had a full head of hair right up to the point he had to start building six ships scattered across a couple hundred light years of space. They both stand behind the ramp of the last mooring, forcing me up a half foot or so, making it appear that we are about the same height. Nice.
I expect to hear congratulations from the boss, but instead I get, "Your ready room, 15 minutes," in the middle of the hand shake. Some part of my face must have asked a question, the admiral responds simply by bringing his left hand around and giving our already joined rights a harder than normal squeeze. It scares the crap out of me.