Basics: A view from the Terran military side with the Commander start. The premise is the setup and execution of the war from the Terran side.
I've had to use a wide variety of scripts to make the story move in the direction I've envisioned.
Passenger to Marine
Marine Training
MARS
NPC Bailout
Terran MOB
Instead of laying out all the rules here I'm hoping to explain them as part of the storyline as you read.
Hope everyone enjoys.
----------------------------------------------------
Admiralty House has always been an imposing structure. I remembered it from my first trip as a middie, the imposing fifty story stone edifice, while dwarfed by the soaring structures on either side of it, dominated Zurich. Today, I felt just like I had as a middie. I straighten my dress jacket and handed my invitation to the Marine guard at the entrance. Although, I’m sure I had been under electronic surveillance since arriving in the taxi and walking down the block, the Marine took his time to inspect the invitation and scan me for weapons…tradition, and security, always took precedent.
The elevator ride to the forty-fifth floor was unnerving. I had always stopped no higher that thirty-two before, and that was when I was in the Operations Staff as a Lieutenant. Forty-five was the rarified area reserved for God and Admirals. Stepping off the elevator into the waiting room a slim, blond secretary; no “executive assistants” in Admiralty House, tradition is tradition, looked at me with an expression reserved for bugs and deadbeat boyfriends. I handed her the invitation from Admiral Kim, Chief of Operational Planning, and her face transformed into the pleasant smile reserved for puppy dogs and knights in shining armor.
“Please have a seat, sir. The Admiral will see you shortly.”
After seeing the miraculous transformation she had undergone, I just nodded and went over the elaborate 21st Century sitting area. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I almost unconsciously rubbed the new Commander stripes on my epaulets. They were new, less than a month old. They had belonged to one of my mentors, the Captain of the Majestic, tradition is tradition after all. The thought of the Old Man made me sad, the damn Argies ambushed the Majestic in Heretic’s End when they started this war. Oh, I know their newsfaux reported that Terrans launched a pre-emptive strike against them but that was patently untrue. I had seen the Ops reports, and yes those damn ATF mercenaries had struck at several stations in Commonwealth territory, but we were handling it. The Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral of the Blue Benson had ordered us to develop a plan to pin in those “private security” ships and operations and force them to disband and let the Navy do our damn job without worrying some half-cocked; want-to-be’s, screwing up our ops. Before we managed to clean up the “private security” corporations, the Argies went and laid waste to most of Heretics End and entered the Asteroid Belt in force. They were finally halted and pushed back into Commonwealth space, but we needed the ATF to help us. So now, we’re stuck with a second para-Navy that is only gaining more and more ships and political power. If only the damn Argies hadn’t pushed so hard, but public opinion is firmly behind the war after being “sneak attacked” by the damn AGI loving Argies.
The secretary bent over the receiver on her desk and then stood up, “The Admiral will see you now.” She moved, or sashayed, to the door and held it open for me as I walked through. Walking to the desk I stopped in front and snapped to attention, “Sir, reporting as ordered.”
Admiral Kim rose and motioned for me to sit in the chair next to window overlooking Northern Zurich. “Please Commander, sit down.” Hitting the intercom, “Shelly, two whiskeys, please.”
Waiting for the Admiral to move over to the second chair, I looked both him and the office over. The room was darker wood paneling and relics of thirty plus years of service covered the walls. The Admiral himself as a smallish man, whipcord thin with peppered black and white hair that moved in the small economical movements brought on by a lifetime in lower-G environments. Shelly brought over what turned out to be the best, smoothest whiskey I have ever had the pleasure to taste. The Admiral sat down, looked at the window and slowly swirled the whiskey in his glass.
“Commander, welcome. Please relax and enjoy. How are you doing today?”
“Sir, I’m fine. Thank you for asked, and I’d like to compliment you on your choice of whiskey, this is exceptional.”
“Thank you, James. I can only assume you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here today.”
“Sir, the thought had crossed my mind.” It had crossed my mind, no kidding. The number three Admiral in all the Navy does not randomly ask a commander, let alone a new commander unless he has a darn good reason, which is mostly bad for the Commander in question.
Chuckling, the Admiral waved at me with his glass. “I’m sure you have. I assume that you’ve kept abreast of the situation with the Argons? “
“Yes, sir. We’ve pushed them back, but we’ve seemed to have reached a stalemate in the sectors immediately bordering our space. Frankly, the lack of jump gates is the only reason we haven’t been swamped by the numerical advantage the Argons and their allies have. One-on-one, or even fleet-on-fleet, we can easily handle them. However, we never do just face one fleet and now that they’ve equipped their rapid response forces with jumpdrives we’ll never be able to outflank them.”
“Very astute, James. I had forgotten you are on the Ops Board here. You’re right in your assessment of the situation. What you are not aware of is the economic and political situation that we are in. Frankly, the destruction of the Torus and the attack of the Terraformers on Earth have scared everyone. Scared them so bad they are willing to do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen again. There are some people taking advantage of that fear to undermine our basic governmental structure, pulling more power from the Parliament and into the Ministry. These same people are also attempting to lay the responsibility for the Torus destruction at the feet of the Navy, while pointing out that others have already been engaged and successful against our enemies.” The Admiral stopped and looked at me, clearly expecting me to finish his thought.
“ATF, they are trying to show that the ATF is the only option for us to defeat the Commonwealth. That’s crazy, sir. The last thing anyone needs is a second independent command structure with the same mission set. We’ve seen the effects of that already with ATF and Aldrin ships breaking formation, chasing secondary targets or leaving us exposed. Our losses would be much lower if the Navy had the ships the ATF are in control of, not to mention the possible war crimes that have happened against bailed pilots and crews.” I was half jumping out of my seat at this point, the rage of such misguided people and the Navy deaths their decisions had caused.
“James, I agree with everything you’ve said, but reality is much different on the news than in the Ops Board. Unfortunately, the people behind this have a much better PR system than we do and none of your concerns are making it to the general populace. I’m not sure that would matter in any case, people are scared, they’re mad and they want blood. They have already pushed through several piece of legislation that limits the power of the Navy in the defense of Earth and other ‘critical’ planets. Ostensively, to free our manpower to fight the Commonwealth, but in reality they have been putting ATF in the role of military police and trader escort. In effect, there is a military power with all our major population centers under their guns, and it’s not friendly with the Navy. Right now we have to play nice with the ATF, but I have worries about their long range plans and effect.”
The Admiral must have seen the shocked and horrified look on my face and grimaced. “You’re wondering why I am telling you, a mere Commander, all of this?” I nodded and took another swallow of the whiskey. “Well, several reasons. First, Admiralty House has been watching your career for a while now. Your time as a tac officer was spectacular and your operational insight developed in the Ops Board room is much higher than other ‘mere’ Commanders exhibit. Frankly, we see you as an asset in the upcoming conflict and want to bring you into our circle.
The Navy is not sure how this war is going to turn out, and we don’t know how the ATF is going to move or react at all. We have a lot of unknowns and identifying young potential commanders to assist us in making sure the Navy can perform all her mission, against all enemies…foreign and domestic, is of the highest importance for us.”
Finally, setting his whiskey down and looking me right in the eye he handed me a manila envelope. “Here are your orders, Commander. I’m sure you will perform your duties admirably and I hope that you keep our overall mission in mind in the future, nothing more than to defend and continue our way of life, whatever that takes.”
Accepting the envelope as I stand, I quickly threw the Admiral a salute. “Sir, you can count on me for any action you and Admiralty House require. I certainly hope that your suspicions do not play out, but if they do you can be sure I will do my duty.”
“That is all anyone can do, James. I too hope my fears are unfounded, but our enemies press us from all sides. Good luck.” He shook my hand as I left his office. Passing by the secretary, I did not notice the slight squinting of her eyes nor the keenly, intelligent glance that was completely at odds with her earlier behavior.
The Flip Side (A Terran DiD)
Moderators: TheElf, Moderators for English X Forum
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Triaxx2
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Added to the DiD list. I hope I'm correct in my guess that it's an AP entry.
A Pirate's Revenge Completed Now in PDF by _Zap_
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
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Jonzac
- Posts: 297
- Joined: Sun, 27. Feb 05, 22:59
I couldn’t tell you about the ride down the elevator, or even how I left the Admiralty House. I got into a cab and while it drove me to the BOQ, I opened the envelope to read the contents inside.
My own command! Finally, I have given command of a Katana, the Jackson. I was to report to her at the shipyard in Mars immediately. The Jackson is brand new and just completed her workups. I will be her plankowner Captain, a rare honor for a first-time Captain. After a restless night spent at the BOQ, I hopped on the next transport to Mars. A rather slow military transport, it took most of a day to land at the spaceport and shuttle over to USC Base Red Cloud. After another two days waiting I secured a private shuttle up to the shipyard, one of the benefits of becoming a ship captain. I asked the shuttle pilot to approach from Spinward to give me a good view of my command, and she is beautiful. Six guns in the front with turrets in all directions, 400Mj shielding and even the new MARS turret control software, the yard dogs were just finishing up the last minute adjustments and I could see her name gleaming on the port bow.
As a Commander I have been assigned to overall defense of our homeland, for now. I am on detached command, while I await further orders from the Admiralty. Not really an unusual situation as they will hold several ships until a sub task force is ready to move out. The Navy made that mistake the first few days of the war when we thought that we were safe behind our front lines. After losing several ships to swarming assembly ships, we now move as major tasks forces to the front. I slipped through the grav tunnel connecting the shuttle and the shipyard and was met by a member of the shipyard command. A Lieutenant came to attention and dashed off a quick salute. “Sir, Lieutenant Cooper, may I escort you to your ship?”
Returning the salute, I waved my agreement to his request and strode off behind him. He continued to point out functions of the shipyard as we moved over to the corvette wing of the monstrous facility. While we walked and his chatter washed over my, I was mulling what my first move would be once I slipped out of the yard. My overarching orders are the defense of our space and destruction of the enemy war capability. Reaching the grav tube connecting the Lieutenant hit the comm box connecting the shipyard with the Jackson.
“Jackson, Lt Cooper. Reporting with Commander Dellinger.” There was a bit of static as the comm line connected and received a response that I could not hear. “Roger, proceeding through grav tunnel. Sir, please accept my congratulations again. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to comm me.” Cooper saluted and began his trek back to whatever task he had been on before being summoned to escort a new Captain about.
Passing through the grav tunnel to the Jackson, I had to ensure my steps remained even and my face as stoic as possible, even though deep down I wanted to cavort and yell at the top of my lungs with joy. I’m sure there was someone on the crew watching the camera feeds and news of the new Captain would be racing through the ship. I was six meters from the access hatch when it started to slide from left to right, leaving an opening into the ship. I passed through the hatch, heard the boatswain’s whistle and felt more that saw the sideboys spring to attention. I saluted the Officer of the Deck, “Permission to come aboard?”.
The older Lieutenant, who must be my XO, returned my salute; “Granted, sir.” I moved up to his side while he pivoted, “Would you like to move to the stateroom, sir?”
“No thank you, I’d like to go to the bridge.”
He continued his pivot and proceeded down the passage way, keeping to my left. We moved through the ship, and he pointed out specific area as we passed through them. The walk to the bridge was short, while the Jackson is an impressive ship, she’s not the largest in the fleet. I left the XO at the door and moved to the chair dominating the center of the bridge. I wouldn’t sit in that seat, not yet, one more task needed to be accomplished. Looking over at the communication center, the Petty Officer there answered my glance with a nod of his own.
“Attention to orders. Pursuant to order number USC000138354, Commander James Dellinger assumes command of the USC Jackson immediately. Good luck, God Speed and good hunting.” These time-honored words, spoken on naval ships from time immemorial just made me responsible for the Jackson, her mission, four officers and fifty enlisted personnel. I looked at the PO again and saw him cut the signal.
“Carry on. XO would mind joining me in my stateroom?” I asked as I moved toward the hatch.
Lt Fox, first name Clifton, I recalled from my review of his personnel records. He was average height, but with a weight lifters chest and arms. He was older than average for a Lieutenant, but that was due to the fact that he had been recalled from the Reserves and his merchant fleet freighter due to the war. Entering my day cabin, I could still smell that new ship smell. The room was fairly small with a desk dominating far wall, with the computer and inset wall shelves. I motioned to Lt Fox to sit at the small table just to the right of the door. He sat down, while I grabbed the other seat opposite from him.
“Lieutenant Fox, first let me thank for bringing the side boys and the fabulous job that you’ve accomplished in getting the Jackson ready for deployment. I’ve reviewed her work records and I realize the massive amount of work you and the crew have done to be ready. I’m sure that we’ll find something to fix after we pull out of the shipyard, but nothing too major. Speaking of our departure, can you give me quick rundown on the situation?”
Facing me I could see his eyes dart up and to the left as we mentally recalled the information I asked for. “Sir, propulsion is ready, we’ve received the latest software and hardware updates for the engine and we’ve hit our shakedown marks and held at max speed of 136 m/s. Our directional thrusters have also been upgraded to Mk3s, bringing our steering to 4.1 degrees/second. The cargo bay has the new dimensional compression in place allowing us to store 1,000 units of Extra Large cargo. The yard dogs have only installed two of five 200 MegaJoule shield emitters and do not have any additional to install at this time. We will have to requisition them and have them installed later when they arrive. All six forward gun mounts have Electro-Magnetic Plasma Cannons mounted and each of the three turrets have one of two mounted with EMPCs as well. There are no missile stocks, but we do have the new MARS fire-control system. I believe that we are ready for her maiden cruise, sir.”
“I agree, Mr. Fox. Please ensure that we are provisioned for several weeks of detached duty and plan for a 1200 local departure. Give what crew members you can afford to be gone a pass to the shipyard tonight. I’ll expect a command staff briefing at 1030 local. Thank you.”
Fox stood and saluted, “Yes, sir.” Leaving the door, I watched as Petty Officer Rogers, my steward entered and saluted, “Sir, I’ve taken the liberty of laying out your clothes in your stateroom and placed the box with your personal items at the foot of your bed. Would you like a cup of coffee or lunch at this time?”
“No thank you, Rogers. I’ll just get my stateroom set up. Please send up dinner at 1830.”
He turned and departed and I moved from my day cabin through the door to the inner sanctum, the Captain’s Quarters. Stopping and looking around, I ran my hand over the plaque mounted on the wall… USC Jackson, Katana Class, DDG-1137, Commanding Officer, Commander James T. Dellinger. Years of sweat and work into that small, iconic plaque. Shaking myself, I moved to the box marked, “Personal” and started to unpack my things.
Several hours later as I picked over the remains of my dinner, I was pleased, and upset all at the same time. I had read the construction log and had seen how three of my 200MJ shield emitters had been diverted for the new Toukun class TMs that were being produced. Somehow, I didn’t think that a Katana class ship with only 40% of her required shielding was a good thing, or one the Navy should have stood for. Especially, after a little digging, I discovered that all three shields went to ATF TMs and they had been diverted the day after I left Admiralty House with my orders. The XO had placed in the paperwork to request additional shields, but with the new disbursed financial system the Navy had been forced to use to be “compatible” with the ATF, the Jackson did not have enough funds to purchase them from local suppliers. The new financial system was a joke. Basically, every ship was given a small amount of money every quarter for standard repairs and upgrades. Each captain was then responsible for ensuring his repairs and additional equipment was able to be funded. The Navy no longer handled centralized procurement. The financial change was pushed through by a consortium of powerful businessmen with heavy political backing, which allowed them to set up stations and profit from now competing Navy commanders. Realistically, the Navy was paying more for each part, but you couldn’t prove it because of the distributed and de-centralized accounting paperwork. Needless to say, claiming prize money from captured ships and equipment was going to be a high priority to ensure I had the Jackson operating at peak efficiency.
I sat back in my chair and contemplated the prize money situation. The Navy and Terran government have retained that time honored tradition of paying commanders prize money for all captured enemy vessels and commerce items. Something was tickling at the back of my brain and I knew that if I thought about it, I would never remember what fact my subconscious was trying to dredge up. So, turning to prizes I looked at the situation in the Asteroid Belt and Jupiter’s orbits. The Argies were attacking frequently and while my under-shielded ship would be torn to shreds if I was caught in the firing lanes around a capital ship, I could certainly take on several fighters of any class at one time. Additionally, any enemy ship could be claimed by any captain in the area. Traditionally, all ships in the task force would receive a portion of every prize, this stops Captains from leaving their post to capture ships. There was a loophole, however, and while I normally would never use that, in today’s fiscal situation of disbursement I might have to. The loophole allowed a Captain to retain any claimed ship if the task force left the immediate area. Given that I would not be integrated into a standing Task Force right away, that would allow me to roam the fringes of any battle taking stragglers and claiming ships left behind. Commerce wares never did follow these rules, and they were awarded to the crew that brought them in.
Suddenly the thought that I’d been studiously hoping to ignore finally broke through. I remembered reading the schematic and tactical manual for the MARS fire control system. Not only did it highlight the highest priority threat for the turret crews and send drones out for missile defense, those drones could be used to capture loose objects in space. That meant a ship with the new MARS system could sit in a safe place and send drones out to hoover up all the lost commerce items that remain after a ship is destroyed. That was the one good thing about the new dimensional compression cargo spaces. If it lost power it explosively decompressed, and that meant that much of a ship’s cargo would survive the break-up of the ship’s hull and be voided out into space. Now, all I needed to do was get a few drones for the Jackson, although if I could get a logistics Baldric class ship assigned to me I could upgrade its software and allow it to sit and pick up the loose items while I provided cover and went after the Argies. It was something to look into at least.
Yawning, I moved over to the bunk and laid down to rest. It had been a long day and although my thoughts were racing initially, sleep quickly overtook me and I managed a good night’s sleep on my first day as Captain.
My own command! Finally, I have given command of a Katana, the Jackson. I was to report to her at the shipyard in Mars immediately. The Jackson is brand new and just completed her workups. I will be her plankowner Captain, a rare honor for a first-time Captain. After a restless night spent at the BOQ, I hopped on the next transport to Mars. A rather slow military transport, it took most of a day to land at the spaceport and shuttle over to USC Base Red Cloud. After another two days waiting I secured a private shuttle up to the shipyard, one of the benefits of becoming a ship captain. I asked the shuttle pilot to approach from Spinward to give me a good view of my command, and she is beautiful. Six guns in the front with turrets in all directions, 400Mj shielding and even the new MARS turret control software, the yard dogs were just finishing up the last minute adjustments and I could see her name gleaming on the port bow.
As a Commander I have been assigned to overall defense of our homeland, for now. I am on detached command, while I await further orders from the Admiralty. Not really an unusual situation as they will hold several ships until a sub task force is ready to move out. The Navy made that mistake the first few days of the war when we thought that we were safe behind our front lines. After losing several ships to swarming assembly ships, we now move as major tasks forces to the front. I slipped through the grav tunnel connecting the shuttle and the shipyard and was met by a member of the shipyard command. A Lieutenant came to attention and dashed off a quick salute. “Sir, Lieutenant Cooper, may I escort you to your ship?”
Returning the salute, I waved my agreement to his request and strode off behind him. He continued to point out functions of the shipyard as we moved over to the corvette wing of the monstrous facility. While we walked and his chatter washed over my, I was mulling what my first move would be once I slipped out of the yard. My overarching orders are the defense of our space and destruction of the enemy war capability. Reaching the grav tube connecting the Lieutenant hit the comm box connecting the shipyard with the Jackson.
“Jackson, Lt Cooper. Reporting with Commander Dellinger.” There was a bit of static as the comm line connected and received a response that I could not hear. “Roger, proceeding through grav tunnel. Sir, please accept my congratulations again. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to comm me.” Cooper saluted and began his trek back to whatever task he had been on before being summoned to escort a new Captain about.
Passing through the grav tunnel to the Jackson, I had to ensure my steps remained even and my face as stoic as possible, even though deep down I wanted to cavort and yell at the top of my lungs with joy. I’m sure there was someone on the crew watching the camera feeds and news of the new Captain would be racing through the ship. I was six meters from the access hatch when it started to slide from left to right, leaving an opening into the ship. I passed through the hatch, heard the boatswain’s whistle and felt more that saw the sideboys spring to attention. I saluted the Officer of the Deck, “Permission to come aboard?”.
The older Lieutenant, who must be my XO, returned my salute; “Granted, sir.” I moved up to his side while he pivoted, “Would you like to move to the stateroom, sir?”
“No thank you, I’d like to go to the bridge.”
He continued his pivot and proceeded down the passage way, keeping to my left. We moved through the ship, and he pointed out specific area as we passed through them. The walk to the bridge was short, while the Jackson is an impressive ship, she’s not the largest in the fleet. I left the XO at the door and moved to the chair dominating the center of the bridge. I wouldn’t sit in that seat, not yet, one more task needed to be accomplished. Looking over at the communication center, the Petty Officer there answered my glance with a nod of his own.
“Attention to orders. Pursuant to order number USC000138354, Commander James Dellinger assumes command of the USC Jackson immediately. Good luck, God Speed and good hunting.” These time-honored words, spoken on naval ships from time immemorial just made me responsible for the Jackson, her mission, four officers and fifty enlisted personnel. I looked at the PO again and saw him cut the signal.
“Carry on. XO would mind joining me in my stateroom?” I asked as I moved toward the hatch.
Lt Fox, first name Clifton, I recalled from my review of his personnel records. He was average height, but with a weight lifters chest and arms. He was older than average for a Lieutenant, but that was due to the fact that he had been recalled from the Reserves and his merchant fleet freighter due to the war. Entering my day cabin, I could still smell that new ship smell. The room was fairly small with a desk dominating far wall, with the computer and inset wall shelves. I motioned to Lt Fox to sit at the small table just to the right of the door. He sat down, while I grabbed the other seat opposite from him.
“Lieutenant Fox, first let me thank for bringing the side boys and the fabulous job that you’ve accomplished in getting the Jackson ready for deployment. I’ve reviewed her work records and I realize the massive amount of work you and the crew have done to be ready. I’m sure that we’ll find something to fix after we pull out of the shipyard, but nothing too major. Speaking of our departure, can you give me quick rundown on the situation?”
Facing me I could see his eyes dart up and to the left as we mentally recalled the information I asked for. “Sir, propulsion is ready, we’ve received the latest software and hardware updates for the engine and we’ve hit our shakedown marks and held at max speed of 136 m/s. Our directional thrusters have also been upgraded to Mk3s, bringing our steering to 4.1 degrees/second. The cargo bay has the new dimensional compression in place allowing us to store 1,000 units of Extra Large cargo. The yard dogs have only installed two of five 200 MegaJoule shield emitters and do not have any additional to install at this time. We will have to requisition them and have them installed later when they arrive. All six forward gun mounts have Electro-Magnetic Plasma Cannons mounted and each of the three turrets have one of two mounted with EMPCs as well. There are no missile stocks, but we do have the new MARS fire-control system. I believe that we are ready for her maiden cruise, sir.”
“I agree, Mr. Fox. Please ensure that we are provisioned for several weeks of detached duty and plan for a 1200 local departure. Give what crew members you can afford to be gone a pass to the shipyard tonight. I’ll expect a command staff briefing at 1030 local. Thank you.”
Fox stood and saluted, “Yes, sir.” Leaving the door, I watched as Petty Officer Rogers, my steward entered and saluted, “Sir, I’ve taken the liberty of laying out your clothes in your stateroom and placed the box with your personal items at the foot of your bed. Would you like a cup of coffee or lunch at this time?”
“No thank you, Rogers. I’ll just get my stateroom set up. Please send up dinner at 1830.”
He turned and departed and I moved from my day cabin through the door to the inner sanctum, the Captain’s Quarters. Stopping and looking around, I ran my hand over the plaque mounted on the wall… USC Jackson, Katana Class, DDG-1137, Commanding Officer, Commander James T. Dellinger. Years of sweat and work into that small, iconic plaque. Shaking myself, I moved to the box marked, “Personal” and started to unpack my things.
Several hours later as I picked over the remains of my dinner, I was pleased, and upset all at the same time. I had read the construction log and had seen how three of my 200MJ shield emitters had been diverted for the new Toukun class TMs that were being produced. Somehow, I didn’t think that a Katana class ship with only 40% of her required shielding was a good thing, or one the Navy should have stood for. Especially, after a little digging, I discovered that all three shields went to ATF TMs and they had been diverted the day after I left Admiralty House with my orders. The XO had placed in the paperwork to request additional shields, but with the new disbursed financial system the Navy had been forced to use to be “compatible” with the ATF, the Jackson did not have enough funds to purchase them from local suppliers. The new financial system was a joke. Basically, every ship was given a small amount of money every quarter for standard repairs and upgrades. Each captain was then responsible for ensuring his repairs and additional equipment was able to be funded. The Navy no longer handled centralized procurement. The financial change was pushed through by a consortium of powerful businessmen with heavy political backing, which allowed them to set up stations and profit from now competing Navy commanders. Realistically, the Navy was paying more for each part, but you couldn’t prove it because of the distributed and de-centralized accounting paperwork. Needless to say, claiming prize money from captured ships and equipment was going to be a high priority to ensure I had the Jackson operating at peak efficiency.
I sat back in my chair and contemplated the prize money situation. The Navy and Terran government have retained that time honored tradition of paying commanders prize money for all captured enemy vessels and commerce items. Something was tickling at the back of my brain and I knew that if I thought about it, I would never remember what fact my subconscious was trying to dredge up. So, turning to prizes I looked at the situation in the Asteroid Belt and Jupiter’s orbits. The Argies were attacking frequently and while my under-shielded ship would be torn to shreds if I was caught in the firing lanes around a capital ship, I could certainly take on several fighters of any class at one time. Additionally, any enemy ship could be claimed by any captain in the area. Traditionally, all ships in the task force would receive a portion of every prize, this stops Captains from leaving their post to capture ships. There was a loophole, however, and while I normally would never use that, in today’s fiscal situation of disbursement I might have to. The loophole allowed a Captain to retain any claimed ship if the task force left the immediate area. Given that I would not be integrated into a standing Task Force right away, that would allow me to roam the fringes of any battle taking stragglers and claiming ships left behind. Commerce wares never did follow these rules, and they were awarded to the crew that brought them in.
Suddenly the thought that I’d been studiously hoping to ignore finally broke through. I remembered reading the schematic and tactical manual for the MARS fire control system. Not only did it highlight the highest priority threat for the turret crews and send drones out for missile defense, those drones could be used to capture loose objects in space. That meant a ship with the new MARS system could sit in a safe place and send drones out to hoover up all the lost commerce items that remain after a ship is destroyed. That was the one good thing about the new dimensional compression cargo spaces. If it lost power it explosively decompressed, and that meant that much of a ship’s cargo would survive the break-up of the ship’s hull and be voided out into space. Now, all I needed to do was get a few drones for the Jackson, although if I could get a logistics Baldric class ship assigned to me I could upgrade its software and allow it to sit and pick up the loose items while I provided cover and went after the Argies. It was something to look into at least.
Yawning, I moved over to the bunk and laid down to rest. It had been a long day and although my thoughts were racing initially, sleep quickly overtook me and I managed a good night’s sleep on my first day as Captain.
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Sabrina Bergin
- Posts: 2239
- Joined: Sat, 12. Apr 08, 10:53
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Triaxx2
- Posts: 7229
- Joined: Tue, 29. Dec 09, 02:15
Awesome work. I can't wait for more.
A Pirate's Revenge Completed Now in PDF by _Zap_
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
-
Nathancros
- Posts: 674
- Joined: Tue, 30. Nov 10, 04:46
keep it up-
Jaycen_Aelis
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Jonzac
- Posts: 297
- Joined: Sun, 27. Feb 05, 22:59
Sitting in my chair on the bridge, I sat and listened to the communication signals being passed between my ship and the shipyard as we prepared to disembark. Finally, the Navigation officer looked up at me, “Shipyard has cleared the last of the gantries, sir. We are ready for disconnect.”
“Roger that. Disconnect and accelerate to 4 m/s and activate downward thrusters.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Speed at 4 m/s and downward thrusters activated.”
The Jackson easily slid out from the docking collar and quickly moved forward as she cleared the massive shipyard. Her hull gleaming, she moved out into the blackness of space.
“Helm, plot a course to Earth. We’ll move there to finish shaking the ship out before we head to Jupiter.” There was a moment of silence that stretched into an unacceptably long pause. “Do we have a problem?” I asked in a deceptively mild voice.
“Sir, yes sir. It appears that we have no navigational data outside our sector.” The Midshipman who addressed me from the Nav panel looked extremely uncomfortable.
Turning slowly to him, I’m sure my face showed my complete disbelief that those words had actually been uttered. “Are you telling me that the combined knowledge of the Terran Navy’s navigational data was not downloaded to this ship?”
Midshipman Cruz looks like the helpless baby that he was. I could see his brain spinning like a tire with no traction as he worked for any solution. He was just about to open his mouth with Lt. Fox turned and spoke from the Comm Center. “Sir, it appears that there have been some…irregularities with the last nav software download we received. I can personally vouch that the data was there last week, but the day you boarded we were notified of a last minute computational nav computer software upgrade. It started last night and finished thirty minutes before disconnect. It appears that that software upgrade deleted the stored data as ‘incompatible’. I’ve just contacted the Shipyard Quality Assurance for a status update, but their initial read is there was a coding error and it will be weeks, if not months until they can unravel the problem here. The Nav software ties in with all systems and since there were obvious errors, they don’t dare just upload an older version.” He squared his shoulders as he delivered the news.
I could tell that Lt. Fox was playing mother hen to the Middies, and he should with what he found out. I was starting to have my own suspicions after losing three shield emitters and now my entire Nav data in the space of just a week. Nodding I stated, “Well, then. There is nothing to do at this point, but to start filling in the data ourselves. Helm, plot a course for the North accelerator. Midshipman Cruz, after we arrive in Venus plot courses around the planet for fifty kilometers ensuring all stations and accelerators are in our Nav data, Lt. Fox, I’ll be in my cabin. You have the con.”
“Sir, I have the con.” He repeated to me and stepped to the Captain’s chair as I moved past him to my cabin.
After sitting down in front of my computer and bringing out the first of the day’s many reports, I sat back and contemplated the overall picture. Drumming my fingers I thought about the many obstacles that had seems to be placed in my way, that or I had the worst luck imaginable. First, sixty percent of my shield generators go missing; second, a software download robbed me of all the jump data I could be using. Third, my turrets weren’t fully outfitted and I was three EMPCs short, also a last minute supply debacle. I’m not sure how I was identified and selected for this, or even who is really behind it, but I’m going to start operating on the assumption that someone in the government is willing to pulls strings to get me and my crew killed.
The routine passed for several days as we fully mapped out Venus, Mars, Mercury and the Moon. I was sitting on the bridge as we moved through the orbital accelerator that moved us into Earth orbit. As the Jackson moved out of the accelerator lane I could see a few remains of the Torus and the Terraformer fleet that attacked us. The Jackson slowly slid forward and I motioned to the Petty Officer on Comms.
The shrill whistle of the boatswain’s whistle was followed by, “Now hear this, now hear this. Form for pass and review, down the port side.
While I couldn’t physically feel the steps of the crew as they formed in their spaces facing the planet from which all humanity was born. I could feel them in my soul.
“Fire the salute, Guns.” I commanded. The top and left turrets rotated and fired off three rounds all spaced one second apart as a violent witness to our commitment to destroy those who had brought such suffering upon our homes. After holding the ship steady for another thirty seconds, I eased back into my chair, “Secure the ship.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The Boatswain’s whistle was again sounded and the rest of the ship moved back into its routine.
“Helm, plot a course for a single orbit around Earth and then head back to Mars.” I watched as Lt jg Hopkins plotted a course and fed that to the Petty Officer manning the helm. Sitting back I watched the precious blue and white orb rotating below us. The stop at Earth with the half-destroyed Torus was good for the crew, and me, to remember why we are here. Defend our home and way of life against the scum who would come like a thief in the night to destroy us. There was an old word for this, terrorist. We will destroy those who did this, and destroy any government which harbors these “terrorists.” Now that means Argons, our brothers, and the “corporation” of TerraCorp, what a sham to call it that, openly admits that Sanya Kho did this and they, nor the Argon government will turn her over for trial. They claim, she’s not here, we can’t find her. We don’t believe them, so we will force a regime change in Argon space, even if that means war. They will be accountable for harboring and supporting those that destroyed so much and killed so many.
The tour I’d been forced to take to reload the nav data into the computer was annoying, but it had been a bit of a blessing in disguise. The crew was able to really get hands on training with all the systems, but particularly the Motion Analysis Relay System, or MARS. The system took the type of targets available, the guns available on the ship, and provided a rapid targeting priority and aim control for the turret crew. It allowed more independent freedom for each crew to target incoming threats, while synchronizing it with the fire coming from, and to, the rest of the ship. The simulations were showing that their proficiency had improved by as much as 75% in the case of the rear turret crew. Additionally, the crew was able to find and repair those niggling details that always need chased down and corrected on a new ship. We were ready to go and when we hit the Asteroid Belt, I’m sure that we’d prove ourselves combat ready.
“Roger that. Disconnect and accelerate to 4 m/s and activate downward thrusters.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Speed at 4 m/s and downward thrusters activated.”
The Jackson easily slid out from the docking collar and quickly moved forward as she cleared the massive shipyard. Her hull gleaming, she moved out into the blackness of space.
“Helm, plot a course to Earth. We’ll move there to finish shaking the ship out before we head to Jupiter.” There was a moment of silence that stretched into an unacceptably long pause. “Do we have a problem?” I asked in a deceptively mild voice.
“Sir, yes sir. It appears that we have no navigational data outside our sector.” The Midshipman who addressed me from the Nav panel looked extremely uncomfortable.
Turning slowly to him, I’m sure my face showed my complete disbelief that those words had actually been uttered. “Are you telling me that the combined knowledge of the Terran Navy’s navigational data was not downloaded to this ship?”
Midshipman Cruz looks like the helpless baby that he was. I could see his brain spinning like a tire with no traction as he worked for any solution. He was just about to open his mouth with Lt. Fox turned and spoke from the Comm Center. “Sir, it appears that there have been some…irregularities with the last nav software download we received. I can personally vouch that the data was there last week, but the day you boarded we were notified of a last minute computational nav computer software upgrade. It started last night and finished thirty minutes before disconnect. It appears that that software upgrade deleted the stored data as ‘incompatible’. I’ve just contacted the Shipyard Quality Assurance for a status update, but their initial read is there was a coding error and it will be weeks, if not months until they can unravel the problem here. The Nav software ties in with all systems and since there were obvious errors, they don’t dare just upload an older version.” He squared his shoulders as he delivered the news.
I could tell that Lt. Fox was playing mother hen to the Middies, and he should with what he found out. I was starting to have my own suspicions after losing three shield emitters and now my entire Nav data in the space of just a week. Nodding I stated, “Well, then. There is nothing to do at this point, but to start filling in the data ourselves. Helm, plot a course for the North accelerator. Midshipman Cruz, after we arrive in Venus plot courses around the planet for fifty kilometers ensuring all stations and accelerators are in our Nav data, Lt. Fox, I’ll be in my cabin. You have the con.”
“Sir, I have the con.” He repeated to me and stepped to the Captain’s chair as I moved past him to my cabin.
After sitting down in front of my computer and bringing out the first of the day’s many reports, I sat back and contemplated the overall picture. Drumming my fingers I thought about the many obstacles that had seems to be placed in my way, that or I had the worst luck imaginable. First, sixty percent of my shield generators go missing; second, a software download robbed me of all the jump data I could be using. Third, my turrets weren’t fully outfitted and I was three EMPCs short, also a last minute supply debacle. I’m not sure how I was identified and selected for this, or even who is really behind it, but I’m going to start operating on the assumption that someone in the government is willing to pulls strings to get me and my crew killed.
The routine passed for several days as we fully mapped out Venus, Mars, Mercury and the Moon. I was sitting on the bridge as we moved through the orbital accelerator that moved us into Earth orbit. As the Jackson moved out of the accelerator lane I could see a few remains of the Torus and the Terraformer fleet that attacked us. The Jackson slowly slid forward and I motioned to the Petty Officer on Comms.
The shrill whistle of the boatswain’s whistle was followed by, “Now hear this, now hear this. Form for pass and review, down the port side.
While I couldn’t physically feel the steps of the crew as they formed in their spaces facing the planet from which all humanity was born. I could feel them in my soul.
“Fire the salute, Guns.” I commanded. The top and left turrets rotated and fired off three rounds all spaced one second apart as a violent witness to our commitment to destroy those who had brought such suffering upon our homes. After holding the ship steady for another thirty seconds, I eased back into my chair, “Secure the ship.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The Boatswain’s whistle was again sounded and the rest of the ship moved back into its routine.
“Helm, plot a course for a single orbit around Earth and then head back to Mars.” I watched as Lt jg Hopkins plotted a course and fed that to the Petty Officer manning the helm. Sitting back I watched the precious blue and white orb rotating below us. The stop at Earth with the half-destroyed Torus was good for the crew, and me, to remember why we are here. Defend our home and way of life against the scum who would come like a thief in the night to destroy us. There was an old word for this, terrorist. We will destroy those who did this, and destroy any government which harbors these “terrorists.” Now that means Argons, our brothers, and the “corporation” of TerraCorp, what a sham to call it that, openly admits that Sanya Kho did this and they, nor the Argon government will turn her over for trial. They claim, she’s not here, we can’t find her. We don’t believe them, so we will force a regime change in Argon space, even if that means war. They will be accountable for harboring and supporting those that destroyed so much and killed so many.
The tour I’d been forced to take to reload the nav data into the computer was annoying, but it had been a bit of a blessing in disguise. The crew was able to really get hands on training with all the systems, but particularly the Motion Analysis Relay System, or MARS. The system took the type of targets available, the guns available on the ship, and provided a rapid targeting priority and aim control for the turret crew. It allowed more independent freedom for each crew to target incoming threats, while synchronizing it with the fire coming from, and to, the rest of the ship. The simulations were showing that their proficiency had improved by as much as 75% in the case of the rear turret crew. Additionally, the crew was able to find and repair those niggling details that always need chased down and corrected on a new ship. We were ready to go and when we hit the Asteroid Belt, I’m sure that we’d prove ourselves combat ready.
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Olterin
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Jonzac
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Khayul
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Jonzac
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