Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga) (31 page)

Senior Lieutenant Coelho knocked discreetly at the door of Steve’s office. As he looked up, she said, “Sir, the weekly dispatch vessel’s just arrived. There are four signals for you. I’ve forwarded them to your message queue.”

“Thanks, Maria. I’ll take a look.”

Steve sighed. Despite repeated invitations to use his first name when they were in private, his Executive Officer still insisted on calling him ‘Sir’ at all times. The fact that they were of the same rank didn’t seem to matter to her – she couldn’t see past his position as her Commanding Officer. He shrugged as he turned to his terminal. She was a good XO, and would make a good skipper in due course, so he wasn’t going to worry about what he regarded as excessive formality.

The first signal was from Planetary Forces Directorate on Lancaster. It had been sent to Rolla’s System Patrol Service, with a copy to Steve for his information. It confirmed that three more patrol craft were being loaded aboard a freighter at the time the signal was dispatched, and would arrive at Rolla – he glanced at his calendar display – in three days’ time. He sighed, torn between anticipation at the increase in capability they represented, and sadness at the imminent termination of his abbreviated command of
Nightingale
. She’d be formally handed over to Rolla along with the other three ships, and a local officer would take his place. The freighter bringing the patrol craft would also carry the system surveillance satellite constellation loaned to Rolla by the Fleet, a beacon system to direct arriving traffic to a designated rendezvous point, and two utility craft to set up and service all of them.

The second was from Commodore Esquivel. She confirmed that Steve, Abha and Brooks had all been formally reassigned to her department with effect from July
. She’d registered Brooks and Steve to attend, during the second half of next year, the courses they’d requested before their next off-planet assignments, while Abha would spend the last six months of her service with the Active Reserve unit at Commonwealth University. He smiled with satisfaction. He and Abha would have a year to settle down together, and Brooks and Carol would have almost as long.

The third signal
advised that a refinery ship and accommodation vessel would arrive next week to begin the asteroid mining project. They’d be carrying up to a dozen mining boats, some owned by the project, others the property of independent miners and contractors, as well as two small patrol craft to provide local project security.

The fourth signal made his eyes widen.
BuIntel advised that one of the three ships Constandt de Bouff had taken with him from Finarga – one of his late father’s commercial freighters, presumably not the one he’d equipped with weapons – had been sold at Medusa two months before. Steve’s smile changed to a scowl as he recalled his encounter with a Medusa freighter at Radetski, the year before he’d been commissioned. His successful leadership of an assault on a group of armed smugglers aboard her had brought him a medal and a combat promotion, which had gone a long way towards smoothing his path through the Selection Board to Officer Candidate School. Medusa was a well-known hub for the purchase and sale of spaceships with no questions asked. Its ship brokers were regarded by many in the merchant service as little more than conduits for pirates to dispose of captured vessels.

I wonder what Constandt
’s playing at?
, he pondered to himself.
He stripped his father’s depot ship of everything useful before destroying her, and he would have taken all the stores from the ship he just sold. We know he bought supplies at Finarga, too, so he must have more than enough to keep his remaining two vessels in space for several months. He already had enough weapons to divide them between two ships, so he almost certainly doesn’t need to buy more at present. He wasn’t short of ready cash, because he liquidated all his and his father’s assets on Finarga. According to the authorities there, that netted him the equivalent of a few million credits; enough to buy supplies, and pay his crews for several months, and have some operating capital left over. If he needed money badly enough to sell one of his father’s ships, especially at a place like Medusa where he wouldn’t have gotten the best price for her, it must have been for something very urgent or important… but if it wasn’t for supplies, or weapons, or operating expenses, then what could it have been?

Eventually he shrugged. He didn’t know the answer, and right now the only person who did was probably Constandt himself. Since no-one knew where he was, they couldn’t ask him about it – but as soon as they located him, given just a smidgen of
luck, that would change. He smiled nastily at the thought.

~ ~ ~

The day dawned at last that Steve had long known was coming – the day he had to give up his first command. It was a bittersweet feeling. He knew he’d done well with her, training no less than four complete crews in record time; but a first command was… well, one’s first. He grinned as he recalled other officers describing the sensation of first taking command as being similar to losing their virginity – there would never be another partner, or another ship, quite like one’s first. He now understood from personal experience what they were talking about.

The handover parade for the four ships was a much more formal, ornate affair than when he’d assumed command of
Nightingale
. It was held in the docking bay vestibule of the Fleet depot ship, as before. Steve addressed his crew for the last time.

“When we commissioned LCS
Nightingale
earlier this year, I challenged you to develop, and pass on to our sister vessels when they arrived and to Rolla’s System Patrol Service as a whole, a vibrant, living example of proud service, professional ability, and trustworthy competence. I’m proud to say we’ve done precisely that. We’ve worked very hard, under conditions that were often unpleasantly overcrowded, but despite them we’ve done our job. Thanks to all of you, Rolla today has four complete crews ready to commission her first division of patrol craft. Together they’ll significantly enhance your planet’s security, and that of your star system as a whole.

“Those of us from the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet who’ve served alongside you have been very impressed by your hard work, attention to detail, and eagerness to learn. You’ve fully lived up to the standards we observe aboard our vessels.
When I return to Lancaster in a couple of months, I’ll be able to tell the dispatch vessel’s crew that if they want to see how a job should be done, they have only to ask you for a demonstration.” The Rolla spacers preened visibly at Steve’s praise.

He read aloud his orders from the Board of Admiralty to decommission the patrol craft, preparatory to her being stricken from the Fleet’s rolls,
then set them down on the podium. Turning to Colonel Houmayoun, in his capacity as senior Fleet officer on the Rolla station, he saluted.

“Sir, I beg to report that LCS
Nightingale
has been decommissioned on this date, in accordance with my orders.”

The Colonel gravely returned his salute. “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, you’ve done extremely well in the short period that you’ve commanded her. Congratulations, and thank you.”

Steve gathered up his orders and marched to the front of his crew.

“Ship’s company!
Ship’s company,
diiiis…
MISS!”

His crew snapped to attention, turned to the right, marched three paces,
then broke formation. Most ran to join their Rolla shipmates standing in three formations on the other side of the podium. Several officers and NCO’s were waiting for them, and joined them as they fell into a new formation, the first in the row. They dressed ranks, faced front, and stood waiting, while the Fleet NCO’s and Steve marched off to one side of the parade, turned, and faced the gathering.

Colonel Houmayoun read the formal orders from the Board of Admiralty transferring the four patrol craft to the ownership of Rolla’s System Patrol Service. He turned and saluted Commodore O’Fallon. “Sir, it’s my privilege to present to you the Fleet registration certificates of these vessels.”

O’Fallon saluted in his turn. “Thank you, Colonel. We’ll do our best to make use of them as well as your service does with its own warships.”

He handed the Fleet certificates to a representative of the Ministry of Defense, and received from him four new certificates. Turning to face the assembled ships’ companies, he announced, “In Rolla’s service, these patrol craft will be named for the mountains of our planet, and will be known collectively as the
Mount
class.” Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see a spacer hurriedly replacing LCS
Nightingale’
s name-board with another one covered in white cloth. Similar boards were already positioned at the other three boarding tunnels.

“Our first four patrol craft will be named RSPS
Mount Atlas,
RSPS
Mount Devereaux,
RSPS
Mount Garnley
and RSPS
Mount Navor.”
As he spoke, a spacer at the boarding tunnel to each ship pulled off the cloth covering its new name, revealing highly-polished brass lettering spelling it out. The assembled guests broke into applause.

Steve grinned inwardly.
Nightingale
had been the first ship to be renamed, and as
Mount Atlas
would be the first commissioned into Rolla’s service. That pleased him.

Commodore O’Fallon read the order commissioning the four vessels into active service, then called on each ship’s designated commanding officer in turn. He or she then read their orders to take command of the vessel, and ordered their crew aboard and the watch set. Steve was again pleased to see Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux take personal command of
Mount Atlas
, his crew comprised largely of the spacers who’d formed her initial ship’s company under Steve’s command.

At last the commissioning and manning of the ships was over. The assembled families of the crews flooded aboard to look over their loved ones’ new vessels, and most of the news media followed them. Steve joined Commodore O’Fallon and Colonel Houmayoun on the raised platform as the other dignitaries went aboard the patrol craft, or headed for the refreshments being served in the depot ship’s wardroom.

Commodore O’Fallon offered his hand. “Thank you very much, Lieutenant Maxwell. You’ve done us proud. Frankly, I thought it would be impossible to have our crews ready in time for the accelerated delivery schedule of these ships, but you and your Fleet NCO’s have proved me wrong. I’ll be saying some very nice things about all of you in my report to the Board of Admiralty on Lancaster. The money Rolla spent to bring you here, and your Marine counterparts working with the Planetary Self-Defense Force, has been very well spent.”

Steve flushed. “Thank you very much, Sir. It was our pleasure. Your people rose to the challenge, and did extremely well.”

“You’ll be just as busy until you return to Lancaster,” Colonel Houmayoun observed with a grin. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Well, Sir, the asteroid mining ships have already started work. I’ll be visiting them next week to help co-ordinate local security patrols between their two small patrol boats, the four PSDF assault shuttles that have been assigned to the project, and the ships monitoring the wider system. However, most of my time will be spent
training Rolla personnel in the use of their system surveillance satellites and traffic beacons. We’ll also have to set up datalinks between the satellites and Orbital and System Control.”

“Also between the satellites and all Rolla’s ships,” the Colonel observed. “They’ll need to receive updates in real time, without having to wait for them to be relayed from OrbCon or SysCon here at the planet.”

“Yes, Sir. We’ll have to upgrade the SPS’s tactical data network to handle the increased bandwidth, then integrate the satellites into it.”

“That’ll keep you very busy,” O’Fallon agreed genially. “However, you won’t start until next week. I hope you’re going to spend some time with your lovely wife before then?”

“I certainly am, Sir.”

“If you’d care to ride with us, we’re taking my gig planetside in a few minutes. That’ll save you several hours waiting for a seat on an Elevator passenger pod. Do you need to collect anything?”

“Thank you very much, Sir. I only have one carryall. It’s at the docking bay counter over there.”

“Then we’d better not keep you waiting. I can remember being a newlywed myself!”

The two senior officers chuckled as Steve blushed.

“Yes, love, I promise I’ll be careful.” Abha’s voice was patient, but a little exasperated. “I’ve managed to keep body and soul together over the past year, so I’m sure I’ll be able to do the same on this final trip.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said contritely. “I know I’m being a pain. It’s just that… well, I love you. I think of you in a completely different way now to when we weren’t married. You’re my other half. I guess I’ll have to learn to be less protective.”

Her eyes softened. “I suppose it’s the old cave-man instinct – protect what’s yours at all costs. Thanks, darling. I
do
appreciate being loved like that. You’re just going to have to remind yourself that your wife was competent before she met you, and falling in love with you didn’t change that.”

“All right.
Who knows? One of these days I may have to remind you to look at me the same way!”

She grinned. “OK. Walk with me to the
transport shuttle?”

“Sure. Let’s go via SysCon’s operations room. I’ve got to give you a data chip to update the databases out there.”

They left Steve’s office, and walked through the SPS wing of the Planetary Elevator terminal until they came to a set of double doors, guarded by two uniformed sentries. They snapped to attention as they saw Steve approaching.

“Good morning, Sir,” the senior of them greeted him, eyes flickering to Abha. “Is your guest authorized to enter SysCon, please, Sir?”

“Well done for checking,” Steve said approvingly. “Lieutenant Sashna is going out to inspect the patrol setup at the asteroid mining project. I’ve got to give her the latest database updates to load into their systems. Is it OK if she waits here for me?”

“Sure, Sir.
Sorry I can’t let her go in with you, but you know the Regulations.”

Steve sighed. “I do.” He turned to Abha. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Don’t do anything in there I wouldn’t do,” she warned with a wink as she stepped aside.

“That leaves me plenty of scope, doesn’t it?”

The guards chuckled as Steve, grinning, dodged her mock-kick, then passed his left wrist over an access plate in the doors. Recognizing his coded wristband, the doors slid open. He walked inside, to return in a few moments with a data chip in his hand. The doors closed behind him as he handed it to Abha.

“There you go. Please upload that to the mining ship, its two patrol boats and the four shuttles out there.” They began walking back down the passage towards the docking bay.

“Sure. Is there anything important in this edition?”

“BuIntel finally sent us the gravitic drive signatures of Constandt de Bouff’s three ships, as provided by Finarga. They included their entry and exit hyper-jump signatures, plus detailed schematics of his
ship and his father’s two freighters. If any of them show up here – or anywhere else, for that matter – we can assume they’re up to no good.”

“I’ll pass the word.
”

At the docking bay, a platoon from the First Armored Battalion of Rolla’s Planetary Self-Defense Force was checking their gear. They weren’t wearing armor for the ferry flight to the asteroid mining project. Instead, the bulky suits, custom-fitted to their wearers, were being fed through the cargo-handling systems to the freight compartment of the
transport shuttle, while the troops would take their duffle bags aboard with them. They’d spend the next month living on the accommodation ship, mounting security patrols using the four assault shuttles based there.

Steve stopped before they entered the vestibule, and kissed Abha’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, love.”

She smiled at him. “I’m glad this is the last trip out there before we go home. I’m looking forward to spending the next year with you, with minimal interruptions!”

“That makes two of us.”

~ ~ ~

The
transport shuttle pulled alongside the mining project’s accommodation ship early that evening. There was the usual delay while cutters ferried everyone over to the latter’s docking bay. The platoon assembled in the vestibule, to be met by the troops they were relieving, already packed and waiting. Abha frowned at the sight.

“Aren’t you supposed to conduct a formal handover before boarding the transport?” she asked the First Lieutenant in command of the platoon going off duty. He was a young Rolla officer.

“Oh, that’s just red tape,” he replied dismissively, glancing at his watch. “Nothing ever happens out here, so there’s nothing to hand over. Frankly, I don’t think we should be wasting our time here at all. It’s dead boring!”

“I suggest you leave that up to your superior officers to decide,” she
warned, ice in her voice. She hadn’t run into this officer previously while training members of Rolla’s First Armored Battalion, and from his attitude, she was already sure that Brooks hadn’t either. One or both of them would surely have pulled him up short for publicly displaying such attitudes in front of his platoon.

“Yeah, we just do the donkey-work,” he muttered sulkily. “You’re not in command of the incoming platoon, are you?”

“No, I’m here for a brief inspection.”

“We’re coming off duty, so we don’t need to be inspected,” he declared, obviously feeling secure in the fact that he was of the same rank as her. “You can inspect our replacements, if you like. I’ll just hand over to them,
then we’ll be on our way. My parents have a big party planned for the weekend, and I want to get back to Rolla in time to enjoy it.”

Inwardly Abha seethed, but was careful not to show it. Attitudes like this were dangerous to the morale and preparedness of any unit. At a guess, he was the sprog of some politically or economically well-connected family, relying on their influence to advance his career and protect him from what he would doubtless perceive as over-zealous official scrutiny.
That’s about to change,
she mentally promised him.
I’ll be discussing your attitude with Brooks over the weekend. Rolla can’t afford to have idiots in command of its best troops and newest assault shuttles.

She waited to one side while the hurried, abbreviated handover was completed
, then the outgoing platoon hustled aboard the waiting cutters. She could see the commander of the incoming platoon was as annoyed as she was. As his troops trudged off towards the accommodation set aside for them, he turned to her.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry you had to run into that. I can assure you, my platoon – my entire company, for that matter – isn’t so slapdash about things.”

She smiled at him. “I already know that, Lieutenant.” Her eyes dropped to his name-tag. “Do I assume correctly that you’re related to Warrant Officer Labuschagne, who was with us during our fight with Johann de Bouff?”

His face lit up. “That’s right, Ma’am. He’s my father.”

“Then you can take great pride in him. He did very well, and I’m sure you’re going to follow his example in your own career. How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him recently.”

“He’s as well as can be expected. They attached his newly cloned legs last week, so he’s in a bit of pain while the bones and nerves and muscles and sinews knit together, but he’s looking forward to getting started with physiotherapy. He’s promised my mother to take her dancing on their wedding anniversary, so he says his healing will have to hurry up!”

Abha laughed. “Look, we’re the same rank, and there’s no need to stand on ceremony. Call me Abha.” She offered her hand.

He shook it vigorously. “Thanks. I’m Dan.”

“OK, Dan. I have a suggestion. Let’s inspect the accommodation right away, before your troops have a chance to clean it or unpack their gear. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it won’t have been left in good order by your predecessors, and I want to record that on vid if necessary. After supper, let’s inspect the four shuttles together. I want your pilots and techs to check
everything
– weapons, reactor, gravitic drive, the works. Let’s log every deficiency and every shortcoming. If necessary, I want to work late to rectify everything, so that we’re fully operational in time for our patrols tomorrow. I’ll take notes of whatever we uncover, and get Captain Shelby to discuss them with your XO.”

He winced. “Remind me never to make you mad at me! Look, would you mind coming out with us tomorrow? You obviously know these shuttles inside-out and back-to-front. I’d appreciate being
able to pick your brains about them while you’re here, so we can use them more effectively during the rest of our month-long assignment. We’ll take all four shuttles a good distance away from the mining ships, so we can practice maneuvers together and use our plasma cannon against targets.”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” She couldn’t help mentally comparing Dan’s eagerness to his predecessor’s lackadaisical attitude, to the latter’s grave disadvantage. “Listen, I’ve got to go to the bridge before I join you at our accommodation. I have to give them this update.” She pulled from her pocket the data chip Steve had given her. “I’ll upload it to our assault shuttles’ databases tonight as well. I also want to check the bridge records, to see whether the platoon we’ve just relieved conducted their patrols according to schedule. I’ve got a feeling they may have skipped some of them, or made them shorter than they should have been. If so, that’ll be more evidence to
put before Lieutenant-Colonel Hays, your Battalion Commanding Officer.”

~ ~ ~

The following morning Steve gathered his final class of operators together for the last time. They sat at a bank of consoles to one side of SysCon’s Operating Center, which allowed them to learn the OpCen’s classified hardware and routines with minimal disruption to the watch on duty.

“
From now on you’ll be training other operators to do all you’ve learned,” he began, “so this is your last chance to ask me questions. Are there any problems or issues that we need to address before I send you back to your regular watches?”

There were several minor procedural questions. One came from a young Petty Officer Second Class. “Sir,” she asked, “
you told us two days ago that the signatures for Constandt de Bouff’s ships had been sent to us by BuIntel on Lancaster. I looked for them last night, to run an exercise analysis against them, but I couldn’t find them in our active signature database.”

Steve frowned. “They
were supposed to have been uploaded the day they arrived. Hang on a minute.” He tapped a query into his console, then shook his head. “You’re quite right. They’re not there. Looks like the Officer of the Watch forgot to approve them for release from the update queue.” He entered a series of commands. “There. The database is integrating them now, and I’ve ordered the battle computer to run them against past records to see if there are any matches. Well spotted, PO. Thank you. Next?”

Another Petty Officer raised his hand. “Sir, I –”

A harsh buzz sounded from the Watch Commander’s console. The Officer of the Watch, a young Junior Lieutenant, jerked upright in his seat, eyes wide with alarm as he scanned the readout. He went white, and looked towards Steve. “Sir, I – could you please look at this, Sir?”

Steve hurried over to the console. “What is it?”

The OOW pointed mutely at the message on his display. It read, ‘EMISSIONS MATCH FOUND FOR PRIORITY TARGETS ALPHA AND BRAVO’.

Steve felt as if his blood had turned to ice. He bent over the console and tapped in a demand for more information. The screen cleared, and a trajectory line was displayed in the three-dimensional Plot display in the center of the room. A disembodied mechanical voice intoned,
“Hyper-jump exit signature plotted four light-days from Rolla at 18:32:26 on April 29 2848. Signature matched programmed priority target Alpha. Hyper-jump exit signature plotted four light-days from Rolla at 18:32:37 on April 29 2848. Signature matched programmed priority target Bravo. Following hyper-jump exits, gravitic drives matching Targets Alpha and Bravo went to full power. Targets rendezvoused, then took up an interception course for the Rolla system. Gravitic drives continued operation for six hours, then went silent.”

Steve cursed aloud as the battle computer’s AI system concluded its
initial analysis, then looked at the OOW. “I just uploaded the gravitic drive signatures of Constandt de Bouff’s ships, and told the battle computer to look for matches. It’s found them.” He pointed to the Plot display. “Constandt’s ships emerged from a hyper-jump, accelerated to their normal cruising speed of one-tenth Cee, then shut down their drives. They’ve been coasting towards us on a ballistic trajectory ever since. That means they’ll be almost here by now.”

“B –
but why would they do that?” The junior officer’s face was ashen. He’d clearly been taken completely by surprise.

“I promise you, Lieutenant, they’re not on their way to invite us to a nice sociable game of tiddlywinks! Get a senior officer in here
right now!”

The rasp in Steve’s voice galvanized the young
er man into action. “Aye aye, Sir!” He grabbed an intercom handset from his console. His voice echoed over the speakers, as Steve knew it would be doing throughout the SPS wing of the Elevator Terminal.
“Duty Officer to SysCon on the double! Duty Officer to Syscon on the double!”