Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga) (21 page)

“Our final exercise will involve participation in the Sector Fleet’s annual war games for its destroyer squadrons. Our patrol craft will operate in conjunction with Fleet units, escorting and screening them and forming part of their integrated sensor net. It goes without saying that we’ll all have to be on top form to hold our own amongst
– and against – major warships.” A rumble of agreement came from the candidates. Steve couldn’t help thinking there was a fair amount of apprehension as well.

The three weeks of simulator sessions were grueling. Exercises ranged from protecting their star system against intrusions by ‘hostile vessels’; making covert approaches to such ‘intruders’ when they were detected, to gather intelligence using their own systems or deploy reconnaissance drones or other stealthy sensors; escorting convoys to and from assembly points in an environment where attacks from enemies were possible; and functioning as part of an escort screen, where the sensors of every warship were integrated into a network controlled by artificial intelligence software, so that any vessel could access information provided by the sensors of any other. Steve knew that in real, non-simulated operations, tight-beam laser turrets such as those he’d deployed during the fight with de Bouff would be strained to capacity passing all that information among the ships involved.

Phase Three of the Crusher was drawing to a close when Steve ran headlong into an additional and unexpected source of pressure. The first he knew of it was when journalists began to send him urgent messages, asking for – in some cases, demanding – interviews. Checking the news headlines, he noted that an inquest had just been completed on the late Commander Buchanan. The relationship between Buchanan and his father-in-law had come under scrutiny during the inquest, as had the Commander’s arrest after his unauthorized intrusion into AIU’s warehouse. Steve had not been called to testify, but his earlier statement under oath about what he’d seen and experienced in the warehouse had been read into evidence. Taking all the circumstances of Buchanan’s death into account, the inquest had returned a verdict of unlawful homicide.

Steve requested a meeting with Commander de la Penne and explained the situation. “Sir, I haven’t been cleared to give interviews by Fleet Public Relations, and besides, AIU should answer any questions related to its warehouse and the incident there. How should I handle this?”

The Commander frowned. “I agree, you shouldn’t be saying anything without prior clearance from AIU and Public Relations. Also, I don’t want you to interrupt your attendance at the Crusher.” He hesitated. “I shouldn’t tell you this yet, but under the circumstances, I’m going to. There’s another factor that’s about to bring you even more media attention. Today I received an advance copy of a press release to be issued tomorrow by the Board of Admiralty. It concerns awards to be conferred for your fight with de Bouff at Rolla some months ago.”

“Oh! I hadn’t heard anything about that, Sir.”

“You weren’t supposed to until tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll send you a copy of the signal first thing in the morning. Keep the news to yourself until then, but you’re to be awarded the Lancastrian Star in Silver, and the mixed detachment you commanded is to receive the Meritorious Unit Award.” He smiled. “I know it’s officially premature, but nevertheless, congratulations on your awards, both individual and unit. I understand the investiture will be arranged at Rolla after you return there, because local personnel will also receive awards, and the Fleet wants to use the opportunity to further improve its public relations there.”

Steve sat open-mouthed for a moment,
then collected himself. “Thank you for telling me, Sir. I was told I’d been nominated for recognition, but not the medal involved. I hadn’t thought they’d process the recommendations so fast. Is there any news of other individual awards?”

“There is, but I’m really not supposed to say anything about
them. I think you should wait until the signal is released to you tomorrow morning.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”
He suppressed a sigh of frustration. He’d nominated Abha and Sergeant Higgs for recognition, and knew she’d done the same for Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw, but he’d just have to possess himself in patience to find out whether they’d received awards. Colonel Houmayoun had forwarded Brooks’ award nominations as well as Steve’s, and made some of his own. Commodore O’Fallon would have endorsed them, and Admiral Methuen had doubtless addressed them in his report to the Board of Admiralty.

“Meanwhile,” the Commander continued, “I’ll approach AIU and Public Relations for guidance about how to handle questions concerning Commander Buchanan. You’re undoubtedly going to have to deal with the news media about your awards, so it’s inevitable that you’ll be asked about the inquest as well. I’ll request that the media be asked to submit questions to you in writing or on vid, and let you answer them as and when you have time. I’m certainly not going to disrupt the Crusher by allowing journalists to invade
us
en masse!”

“Aye aye, Sir,” Steve said again.

By noon the following day, his mailbox was stuffed to electronic bursting-point. Former shipmates, friends and colleagues sent congratulations, and journalists and news organizations redoubled their efforts to get him to talk to them. Several asked for exclusive interviews, some blatantly offering money in return for an inside track on his story. Irritated, he deleted all such requests without dignifying them with a reply, and forwarded the rest to Commander de la Penne.

One message came from Lieutenant-Commander Bullard, clearly in response to Commander de la Penne’s request for guidance. He warned Steve bluntly that the Buchanan affair was far from over, and that he should say nothing at all to anyone without AIU's prior written authorization. “I expect big developments within the next few months,” he advised. “Heads will probably roll over this. Keep
your own counsel and wait for more information. You may yet be thankful that you're going back to Rolla, out of the way. In particular, if anyone tells you AIU said it was OK to talk to them, and you didn't hear that from us first, don't believe them! Remember my warning about lawyers’ tricks? It’s proving prophetic, but I’m afraid I can't say more at this stage.”

Steve
was delighted to learn that Abha had been awarded the Lancastrian Star in Bronze for which he’d nominated her for her leadership of the internal assault on
Blanco
. Brooks had earned the same medal for planning and leading the assault on the pirates aboard
Mauritania
. Sergeant Higgs’ expertise had earned her the Fleet Commendation Medal, and several others had received awards for combat performance. Everyone would earn a Space Combat Badge or a star for their existing badge, as well as sharing in the Meritorious Unit Award – the third-highest of the Fleet’s five unit awards – and the prize money. No-one in Task Force Maxwell would go unrecognized.

He
was particularly gratified to learn of the unit award. They were worn as ribbons on the right side of the chest, setting off the individual awards worn on the left side. In the eyes of the Fleet, the former recognized effective leadership even more than the latter. For that reason, the officer commanding a unit when it won a unit award always wore its ribbon inside a gold frame, as a public acknowledgment of their leadership. Steve had already earned the two lesser unit awards: two Operational Excellence Ribbons by serving aboard LCS
Demeter
and LCS
Achilles
at the time they had earned them, plus the Superior Unit Award during LMV
Sebastian Cabot’
s chartered service to the Fleet. This would be his first award of the MUA, and his first unit award to be worn inside a gold frame. Silently he promised himself to do all he could to ensure that it wasn’t the last.

The news of Steve’s award spread during the morning, leading to a flood of congratulations from
many of the other candidates over lunch. A few remained aloof, however. He realized his ‘golden boy’ reputation was still a problem for some of them, and knew his medal would be a bitter pill for them to swallow. However, he couldn’t help that, so he resolved not to lose any sleep over it. He was embarrassed enough by all the attention as it was.

Fran Grunion came in for her share of attention, too, being from Rolla, where Steve’s defeat of de Bouff had been the proximate cause of her attendance at the Crusher. She chatted animatedly with the other students, telling them of the years of neglect that Rolla’s SPS had suffered under the planet’s previous government, and how the service’s share of the forthcoming prize award for
Blanco
was already revitalizing its fleet and the career prospects of its personnel. She seemed to enjoy the limelight much more than he did, Steve noted wryly.

She noticed his awkwardness, and
teased him about it after the meal. “Oh, come on, Steve! If you go around knocking off pirates by the score, you’ve got to expect a certain amount of interest.”

“Yeah, but…
frankly, I’d rather get back into the simulator and get on with the training. I’m not complaining about the awards, mind you, but they’re from yesterday’s challenges. We’ve got today’s to cope with.” He knew he sounded decidedly grumpy, but he couldn’t help himself.

She cocked her head, looking at him quizzically. “I guess you have a point, but it’s still an unusual attitude. I suppose it fits, though – you’re also the only guy I’ve ever met who’d turn down a sure-thing, no-strings-attached offer like you did the other night! You’re an odd man in many ways, you know.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m developing early-onset curmudgeonhood.”

He thought about her remark as he lay in bed that night, and wondered why he wasn’t more excited about the
Star in Silver. It was a highly-prized award, and not conferred lightly, but he just couldn’t get worked up about it. At last, after tossing and turning for over an hour trying to clear his mind and get to sleep, the answer came to him. He sat bolt upright in bed as he realized,
It’s not me, and it’s not what happened at Rolla, and it’s not the medal. It’s Abha! She’s the only thing – the only
person –
I want right now. Anything else leaves me cold. I don’t care how many other women are available, and I don’t care about all the medals in the Fleet’s toybox. I want Abha. Nothing else – nothing
less –
is going to satisfy me.

He debated within himself for a moment. He really needed sleep… but this was too important to postpone. He got up, slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and spent ten minutes recording a message to Abha, telling her about the events of the past few days, and what they’d forced him to realize.

He gazed into the vid lens. “I guess the only way I can sum it up is that I thought my life was pretty much OK, until I met you. Now I know it’s got an Abha-shaped hole in it, and only you can fill it. I want you, not as a girlfriend or lover, but as my partner, now and for the rest of my life. I guess I’m asking you to marry me, darling.”

He grinned, a little shakily. “I’m scared to say that.
What if you don’t feel as strongly about me as I do about you, and get offended because I’m moving too fast? For that matter, what if you feel the same way I do, and say ‘yes’? I’ll have committed myself. Am I really that sure about you, and about us? To all those doubts I can only say, I can’t see myself without you anymore. You’re already a part of me. I want to make that permanent, for the rest of our lives. Forget informal relationships, and temporary cohabitation contracts, and all that stuff. You’re too important to me already for me to waste time on them. I want you to be my wife for life. Hey, that even rhymes!

“I guess you won’t get this for a couple of weeks, and by then you’ll be
getting ready to pack your things to head back here for some leave. I hope you’ll say ‘Yes’ when you get here. I love you, darling.”

He finished, played back the message, and pondered
the wisdom of sending it… then shrugged.
What have I got to lose? Whatever she says, it won’t change the way I feel about her.
He encoded the message for privacy, then routed it to the next dispatch vessel heading for Rolla and nearby planets.

Smiling wryly at himself, he settled down to try to get some sleep.

~ ~ ~

The fourth and final phase of the Crusher took place in space once more, with three weeks of practical exercises. T
heir new Teacher addressed the candidates in Steve’s division as LCS
Blacksnake
departed the training ship and headed for the asteroid belt.

“We’ve got two dozen tactical situations set up for the first week. You’ll be exercising against the
battle computer and the other three ships of our training squadron. During the second week, you’ll exercise with and against ships from the Sector Fleet. During the final week, we’ll join the Sector Fleet’s annual war games, escorting convoys to and from the system boundary and forming part of their protective screen.

“We try to make the training environment as safe as practicable, but if we went too far with that, you’d never be exposed to risk at all. We’re all members of armed forces –
fighting
services. Risk goes with the territory. You’ll be expected to continue to observe all the safety precautions we’ve drummed into you during the course so far, but they may get in the way of your accomplishing a mission assigned to you. If you believe they do, you’re free to ask us for permission to exceed prescribed safety limits, and justify your request. If we agree that the dangers of the situation are manageable with good judgment – and provided you
demonstrate
good judgment – we’ll approve your proposed course of action. If we think you’re getting in over your head, we won’t. Our default position will be to let you make mistakes in order to learn from them, unless they appear to us to risk damage or casualties. After all, as the old saying tells us, good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment!” His audience laughed nervously.