Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga) (18 page)

“I’m afraid the Admiral’s right,” Colonel Houmayoun agreed.
“Bear in mind that only about half of the junior officers in the Fleet – grades O-1 to O-3 – make it to senior officer rank – grades O-4 to O-6. Only about one in twenty of our officers make it to the top of that band. This incident will give all of you a big helping hand up the ladder, but you’ll be envied by those who haven’t had such opportunities.”

“
I understand, Sir,” Brooks acknowledged. Abha echoed his agreement, her face troubled.

Steve asked, “Sir,
what’s the best way to deal with such problems?”

Methuen replied, “
Do your job as best you can, so your performance says more about you than your own or anyone else’s words. Ignore jibes and verbal digs – act as if you haven’t heard them. Treat everyone around you as professionally as possible. If you don’t respond in kind, the gossip and back-biting will slide right off you like water off a duck’s back. If someone gets in your face and won’t back off, try to respond logically and rationally, rather than emotionally. It can be difficult to control your temper, but as others realize you’re doing your best to behave like an adult, no matter what the provocation, they’ll begin to look at you in a more balanced light. Remember that –
never lose your temper.
It’s a fatal mistake when under pressure, because then you’re no longer thinking, but reacting. You’ll have made yourself part of the problem, rather than the solution.”

“
Thank you, Sir. I’ll try to do that.”

“Good.” The Admiral rose to his feet, and they all followed his example. “I’ll look forward to representing Rolla and yourselves at the Admiralty, and in the Prize Court hearings at Lancaster.”

Brooks said, “I’ll talk to my Marines and the Rolla NCO’s who fought alongside us, Sir, and suggest they agree to use Methuen Investments as their representative at the Prize Court. I’ll point out to them that if we all do that, we’ll get our prize money much more quickly. I’ll see if I can get them to sign the necessary authorizations before you leave.”

“Thank you. We’ll also open investment accounts for any of them that wish it – and as a
personal gesture of gratitude, I’ll have our bank halve the usual charges and fees.”

“I’ll mention that to them as well, Sir
, and suggest they arrange for the money to be paid directly into those accounts. That’ll stop them spending it all at once when it’s paid out. I’ll certainly take up your offer.”

“Me too, Sir.”
“And me.” Steve and Abha added their assent.

“Then it remains only for
us to wish you all a pleasant evening.”

~ ~ ~

They stood in a small group, watching Colonel Houmayoun’s car as its tail lights receded into the distance and disappeared around a corner.

“Whew!”
Brooks sighed. “Steve, you’ve outdone yourself this time, buddy. That prize money’s going to pay for all the kids Carol can possibly want, and then some. She’s going to give you the biggest hug ever – enough to make me jealous, if I didn’t know you had Abha to keep you busy.” He grinned, and winked. Abha blushed, but didn’t object.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re in your bank account,” Steve warned. “We don’t know the amounts yet, and the officers’ share will be split four ways.” He grinned. “Remember, we get some prize points for our rank, and others for length of service. That means Warrant Officer Labuschagne’s going to be very happy. He’s probably got almost as many years of service as all of us put together!”

Brooks laughed. “That’ll help speed his recovery, for sure! What did Admiral Methuen mean when he talked about ‘the Crusher’?”

“
You have to qualify to command a ship before the Board of Admiralty will appoint you as Commanding Officer. There are two courses, both very tough – only seven out of ten candidates pass either one. There are no repeats, and if you fail, you’re disqualified from any future command appointment. Effectively, your career as a line officer would be over. You’d have to transfer to the Service Corps if you wanted to stay in the Fleet, and you’d never command a line unit again.

“T
he major course is the Fleet Commanding Officers Qualifying Course, nicknamed the ‘Perisher’. It’s for Lieutenant-Commanders and above, oriented towards the Fleet’s normal interstellar operations. The second course is the ‘Crusher’, the Planetary Forces Command Course. It’s for Senior Lieutenants and above, built around the operations of a typical planetary System Patrol Service. They’re responsible for police, customs, traffic control, and search and rescue duties, as well as local defense of their planets and star systems. In old-fashioned terms, you might say they’re more like a Coast Guard service where the Fleet’s like a fully-fledged Navy.”

“Sounds like the
Crusher’s more suitable for SPS officers, then,” Abha observed. “Won’t it be a waste of your time as a Fleet officer, when you won’t be doing SPS-type duties after this assignment?”

“Not exactly.
You’re right, the Crusher’s mainly for SPS officers, but the Fleet uses it to train our candidates for patrol craft command, because they work more closely with member planets’ forces than our bigger warships. Also, a Crusher graduate is eligible for minor commands in the Fleet –smaller transports, communications frigates, ships like that. That allows the best planetary officers to be seconded to skipper Fleet ships, which gives them useful experience and helps us, too. For major commands – all interstellar warships and larger auxiliaries – one has to pass the Perisher.”

Brooks stretched. “
So, to put it in Marine terms, the Crusher’s more like qualifying to be a company commander or battalion executive officer, but the Perisher’s required before you can command the whole battalion?”

“It’s not an exact analogy, but something like that.”

“Well, good luck to you. If you find it as tricky as the Admiral said, you can try bribing the instructors with some of your prize money!”

Steve laughed. “I somehow don’t see that working.”

“Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. You’ll get more money than any of us, remember. You’ll earn command points for our little operation, which will increase your prize share.”

Steve blinked. “I’d forgotten about th
at. I’ve never been in command of a mission before, so I’ve never earned command points. Shouldn’t you also get them, as CO of the instructor unit?”

“I don’t think so
. Commodore O’Fallon appointed you in tactical command, remember? Still, I don’t care. There’ll be more than enough money to go around! Now, I hope you don’t mind if I change the subject, but we never did get around to dessert.”

“Dessert?”
Abha asked, looking suddenly interested. “What did you get?”

“Fresh-made
baba au rhum
and ice cream. They’re in the chiller.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you could buy exotic desserts like that here.”

“Well, I don’t know how authentic it is – for all I know, it might be
baba au
local moonshine – but as long as it’s suitably alcoholic, who cares?”

Abha sniffed.
“Fine thing! My boss is trying to get innocent little me drunk, by disguising liquor as dessert!”

Steve grinned.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. I’ll eat yours as well as my own.”

“Oh, no, you won’t! I wouldn’t
dream
of putting you to so much trouble! I’ll eat it myself and risk the consequences, thank you very much!”

Laughing, they headed for the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

Steve couldn’t fall asleep that night. His mind was whirling with
all they’d learned a few hours ago. Eventually he rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts, made tea – as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the others – and took it out onto the porch, sitting on the low stone wall in the mild night air. He sipped the hot tea and tried to relax.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door behind him slid open. Turning, he saw Abha, wearing a light robe and holding a mug.

“I heard you make tea and come outside,” she said softly. “I couldn’t sleep either, so I thought I’d join you.”

“I’m glad you did. Let’s keep our promise to Brooks, though, and sit in the living-room, out of sight of anyone wandering around
– not that I think many people will be doing that at one in the morning!”

They sat down on the comfortably padded sofa, placing their mugs on a small table. Steve put his arm around Abha as she nestled against him.

“I’m still dazzled at the thought of all that prize money,” she confessed. “I’d never dared hope to earn enough to fund my studies, because I knew how expensive they’d be – not to mention having to support myself while learning. Now, thanks to you, I’ll probably be able to afford them several times over!”

“Not thanks to me
– we all had our part to play in earning it. De Bouff was stupid to come out of hiding like that, where we could target him.”

“I’m not sure
he was all that stupid. Don’t forget, he assessed Rolla’s orbital security pretty accurately. What killed him was not knowing about the new shuttles, or – if he did – discounting them as a threat. What’s more, he didn’t know you were here to make the most of them. I watched you carefully. You were like the conductor of an orchestra, setting up and coordinating the shuttles’ systems and everyone’s part in the assault until everything meshed together like a well-played symphony. You were
very
impressive.” She snuggled closer.

Steve flushed as he hugged her. “I was so wrapped up in it all, trying to think of everything that had to be done and keep all the threads straight and untangled in my mind, that I had no idea you were watching me like that.” He
hesitated. “I… I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you, but part of me still wonders whether there was anything I could have done to save Shuttle Three. That’s the first time people I’ve led into a fight have been killed.”

She looked up at him for a moment, head cocked to one side, considering. “I don’t see what else you could have done. In combat
it’s a function of enemy skill and the luck of the draw whether you come through or not. All anyone can do is his best – which you certainly did.”

“Thanks… but I still feel responsible for those seven dead Marines and PSDF troops, and the six who are in hospital. I keep replaying the attack in my mind, wondering if there was any
thing I could have done differently so they wouldn’t have been killed or hurt.”

“
You weren’t responsible – de Bouff was. If we hadn’t intervened, you know as well as I do that people would have been asking why Rolla’s forces hadn’t been able to stop them. We
had
to go in. You gave us better than a fighting chance with good tactics and the best use of our equipment. You got us close, where we could hit them hard. Once we’d done that the rest was relatively easy – we took only a few injuries in clearing both ships of pirates. Your first strike took the heart right out of them. Our casualties were the price we paid to deliver that hammer-blow.”

He hugged her
. “I guess you’re right. Sorry if I sounded a bit maudlin. I wish I didn’t have to go away in a couple of weeks, and leave you behind. Dammit, here I am leaning on you and getting all serious about you, and now I won’t be able to do anything about you for the next few months!”

She looked up at him.
“Serious about me, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”
He lowered his head, and their lips met in a long, loving kiss. “And you?”

“Do you hear me objecting?”
Another kiss.

He held her tighter. “I’m going to have to send you lots of messages by the weekly dispatch vessel until we can be together again… but th
at won’t be enough to satisfy me. I want to be with you!”

“And I want to be with you.
I’m serious about you, too.” Another kiss, growing deeper as she wriggled onto his lap. Her gown fell open slightly at the front, allowing a tantalizing glimpse of the shadowed valley between her breasts. Steve’s heart pounded as his fingers gently traced up and down it, then reached in to cup her breast, feeling her nipple spring erect against his palm. She moaned softly, eyes closed, lips and body moving against his, and reached up, touching his hand, pressing it to her… until she slid off his lap and pulled him to his feet.

Steve’s heart was hammering fit to burst. He whispered, “Darling
, are you sure?”

She nodded
silently, and led him slowly into her bedroom.

The pilot gestured through the cutter’s viewscreen. “There she is, Sir –
Whipsnake.”

Steve gazed at the
Serpent
class heavy patrol craft as the cutter drew closer. She seemed tiny in comparison to a destroyer, until he reminded himself, smiling, that fifteen thousand tons of spaceship wasn’t really ‘tiny’ at all.

“How many of these ships does Lancaster operate?” he asked.

“Our System Patrol Service has sixteen, Sir, divided into four divisions, each with four ships.”

“They’re not all operational, surely? Some must undergo maintenance from time to time?”

“That’s right, Sir. Two divisions are operational; a third is for routine maintenance, workup and crew training; and the fourth is for ships taken out of commission for major overhaul or waiting to be recommissioned. Every ship rotates through each division as required.”

Steve made a mental note of the force structure. Rolla’s would probably be similar, but use divisions of three ships instead of four.

“And you don’t have any heavier warships?” he asked.

The pilot grinned. “The Fleet has sixteen battleships, sixteen cruisers and thirty-two destroyers of the Home Fleet in the system, plus all the auxiliaries serving them, plus the Lancaster Sector Fleet and its auxiliaries, plus the Fleet and Sector Dockyards and all the ships using them, plus a big chunk of the Reserve Fleet parked in the outer system. If our planetary forces added more warships, it’d just make the traffic problem even worse, Sir!”

Steve couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, they’d be a bit superfluous, wouldn’t they?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Sir, what’s a Fleet officer doing visiting a System Patrol Service ship? We usually feel a bit neglected by the Fleet, as if we’re beneath their notice.”

Steve frowned. “I’m very sorry if that impression’s been given. It’s certainly not the case with the officers I know. We couldn’t focus on interstellar commerce without you people to backstop us locally. When something comes up, we rely on you to hold the line until we can get there to help. I’ve just come from Rolla, where I was training their PSDF in – ”

“That’s
where I’ve seen your face!” The pilot slapped his thigh. “I was trying to figure out why you seemed familiar, Sir. I saw the news broadcasts of your attack on that pirate ship. You shot her to pieces!”

“Yes, we did – and that was using Rolla’s shuttles, with her NCO’s making up almost half of our assault force. We work like that with planetary forces all the time.”

“OK, Sir. Perhaps it’s just the Home Fleet guys who get a bit snooty, because they don’t have much contact with planetary forces.”

“Thanks for telling me about it. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He watched as the pilot skillfully docked his vessel in the open slot in
Whipsnake’
s docking bay, beside her lone cutter and gig. As soon as the airlock had been established, he stood, reaching for his suitcase. “Thanks, Pilot. I appreciate the ride.”

“Anytime, Sir.
See you in a week, when you get back.”

He emerged from the airlock into a small vestibule, and saluted the flag
hanging on the bulkhead – Lancaster’s planetary flag, rather than that of the Commonwealth. A Petty Officer Second Class looked up from a counter next to it, and Steve walked over to her.

“Good morning, PO. I’m Senior Lieutenant Maxwell
. I’ll be observing your exercises for the next week.”

“Good morning, Sir. We’ve been expecting you. I understand you’ve served on patrol craft before?”

“Yes, I did a tour aboard a
Songbird
class ship at Radetski.”

“Then you’ll know your way around, Sir. We’re the same general layout, just a bit bigger. You’ll use the spare officer’s cabin, next to the XO’s. Do you need an escort?”

“No, I can find it.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll advise the Commanding Officer that you’ve come aboard.”

Senior Lieutenant Ashby proved to be one of the tallest officers Steve had ever met, a lanky man who had to walk with a stoop to avoid cracking his head on the patrol craft’s deckhead with its burden of pipes, ventilation grilles and other fittings. He shook his hand enthusiastically.

“Great to have you aboard, Lieutenant. I watched the vid of your attack on those pirates at Rolla. You really nailed their asses! I want to hear all about it
over supper tonight.”

“
Can do. Call me Steve.”

“OK. I’m John. We’re preparing to get under way. Care to come to the OpCen with me? There’s an observer’s chair behind my console.”

“Lead on.”

Steve watched the Operations Center activities with interest. The compartment was minuscule compared to the destroyer OpCen he’d worked in during his previous assignment. It had only four small consoles – Plot, Communications, Weapons and Command – but Ashby and the NCO’s manning them clearly knew what they were about. Orders and information flowed smoothly back and forth.

“Where’s the Executive Officer stationed?” Steve asked during a lull in proceedings.

“Normally Senior Lieutenant Tarja is in here, but our Engineering Head of Department is on emergency leave to deal with a family problem. We borrowed a temporary replacement from the
maintenance division, but we don’t know him except by reputation, so she’s keeping an eye on that department while we get under way, just in case.”

“Makes sense.”

After the ship had settled into cruising formation with the other three patrol craft of her division, Ashby called the XO to take charge of the OpCen and took Steve on a tour of the vessel. He was clearly very proud of her. Steve commented, “I haven’t seen many Fleet warships this neat and clean. Your crew must work hard to keep her like this.”

“Thanks for saying so. Yes, we put a lot of effort into her, but it’s not just for outward show. We won the Patrol Service’s Operational Effectiveness Award earlier this year.”

“Congratulations! That’s quite an achievement.” He hesitated a moment. “There’s something that’s been bugging me. Back at Rolla, retired Admiral Methuen told us that the Fleet didn’t use
Songbird
class patrol craft anymore, because of what he called ‘changes in the Fleet’s operating doctrine and structure’. I served aboard a
Songbird
during the United Planets mission to Radetski, before I was commissioned – I was her cutter pilot. She seemed perfectly capable to me. Why don’t they suit the Fleet any longer?”

Ashby smiled.
“It’s no reflection on the
Songbirds
. The Fleet used to operate corvettes and frigates as its smallest interstellar warships. They were okay for low-level defensive missions and showing the flag, but weren’t powerful enough to take the offensive when necessary. The
Songbird
class was designed to work with them on local patrols, carrying the same type of missiles and maneuvering at the same speed – up to a quarter of light speed in emergency.

“About
fifty years ago, the Commonwealth grew too large for the Fleet to economically handle the defense of all its planets, plus maintain credible Sector sub-fleets and a deterrent Home Fleet. The Senate had a choice: massively increase the size of the Fleet – which would have meant additional Sectors, and many more ships and people, and a huge increase in Commonwealth defense spending – or have member planets look after their own local defense. They voted overwhelmingly for the second option. The Fleet was reduced in size and its budget cut, but it no longer had to do as much. The smaller ships and personnel it let go were mostly transferred to the expanded System Patrol Services of member planets. Their Commonwealth membership levies were reduced, but they now had to fund their own local defense.”

Steve nodded. “I think that’s when most of our bigger planets got their corvettes and frigates, right? They took them over from the Fleet.”

“Yes, that’s right. The Fleet standardized on destroyers as its basic interstellar warship. They’re much larger than corvettes and frigates, armed with longer-range missiles, and accelerate faster and reach a higher top speed. The
Songbirds
couldn’t operate effectively alongside them at max effort. They were slower, and their shorter-range missiles couldn’t augment the larger ships’ fire over long distances. The
Serpent
class was designed to replace them. We’re twenty-five per cent larger than a
Songbird
, with enough hull capacity to carry destroyer-size missiles. We also have a more powerful drive, to match a destroyer’s acceleration and top speed. Still, apart from those things a
Songbird
can do almost everything we can, and its systems and weapons can accept the latest software upgrades.”

“I get it.
I see what Admiral Methuen meant now. OK, what’s the plan for today?”

“We’re going to exercise towing and recovery operations. Each of us in turn will simulate a
merchant freighter with drive failure. The others will try to take us in tow using tractor beams, first singly, then in formation. It’s a tricky maneuver. You’re guaranteed to run into it on the Crusher.”

“I’ve already seen it on a smaller scale,” Steve acknowledged. “
I learned to tow other small craft with cutters and assault shuttles during my pilot training, but I’ve never had to do it for real.”

“
Our tows work the same way – just on a larger scale. They’re a bit nerve-wracking in a spaceship. Our tractor beams have no physical anchorage on the towed vessel. If too much drive power is applied, they’ll simply ‘let go’ and we’ll waltz off into space, leaving the towed ship languishing in splendid isolation. That tends to make our Divisional Commanding Officer…
testy.”
He beetled his brows, and Steve nodded sympathetically. He went on, “If we reduce power on the ship’s drive, the tractor beams are quite capable of pulling us backward into the towed ship. That means we have to deploy pressor beams to maintain a safe distance – but not so powerfully that they’ll negate the pull of our tractor beams and push us away.”

Steve grinned.
“Sounds like trying to ride a unicycle on a tightrope while juggling eggs.”

“You said it! Computer support helps, of course – our artificial intelligence systems can work out the correct power levels fairly easily. Trouble is, during training the boss sometimes instructs us to simulate computer failure, calculating everything manually. That makes things a lot hairier
. Even so, towing each other isn’t as bad as trying to tow a full-size merchant freighter. They’re much bigger than we are – even the smallest are twenty to thirty times our mass. They just sit there like bumps on a log. I’m sure you’ll have to tow one during the Crusher.”

Steve made a mental note. “How do you overcome so much inertia?” he asked.

“If they’re already under way we can keep them going and gradually change their heading, although we need assistance to stop them. If they’re at rest, we use their reaction thrusters to augment our gravitic drive and get them under way. If their reaction thrusters are unserviceable, we set up a triangular or diamond formation in the vertical plane with three to four patrol craft, cross-link to each other with secondary tractor and pressor beams to maintain our spacing, then use our combined primary tractor beams on the towed vessel to exert a shared pull. With several of us tugging together, we can usually get them moving. We’ll be exercising that later today.”

“OK. Speaking of the Crusher, what’s the most difficult thing about the course? What’s the hardest to master?”

“Situational awareness,” Ashby answered at once. “You’ve
got
to be able to keep a three-dimensional picture of your surroundings in your head at all times, no matter what distractions are thrown at you. If you focus on any one element to the exclusion of all the others that also require attention, you’re going to fail. Remember, you’ll have an Operations Center to support you. Use it! Make sure the Plot updates the tactical picture with every scrap of relevant information. Expect the instructors to try to distract you with new problems all the time – after all, it’s their job to find out whether you can keep your head under pressure. Refresh your situational awareness from the Plot as often as you can. It’s your balance point, the fulcrum that supports everything else.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ashby thought for a moment. “I’ll give you two more pointers. Second only to situational awareness, and almost as important, remember the old saying: ‘When you’re up to your ass in crocodiles, it’s difficult to stay focused on draining the swamp’. When everything’s going smoothly, try to think of anything that might go wrong, and plan ahead to deal with it. That’ll help you cope when the crocodiles rear their ugly heads – and they will, depend on it! The instructors will see to that. You’ve got to accomplish your mission despite all obstacles and distractions.”

“It was like that during Officer Candidate School,” Steve acknowledged. “They tried to keep us on edge the whole time, to test us under conditions of stress.”

His host nodded. “The Crusher works on the same principle. The last point is, get enough rest. You’ve
got
to stay mentally alert, and you can’t do that if you’re exhausted. It’s very tempting to force yourself to stay awake and do everything, rather than delegate it or trust others’ judgment. On my Crusher, one guy got only two hours rest during a twenty-four-hour duty cycle. When he came off duty, he’d no sooner gone to sleep than Teacher rousted him out of his bunk to handle a simulated emergency, just as a real Commanding Officer might have to do. He was completely exhausted. He should have taken a stim-tab, but he forgot to do so, and Teacher wasn’t about to remind him. He made too many mistakes, and failed the course.”