Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship (4 page)

“Magnetic constrictors are active and plasma pressure is building in the mains,” Davis said as she watched the status reports from half a dozen sections stream across her display.

“Just let me know when we can begin to accelerate,” Jackson said as he felt the gravity stabilize. He took the opportunity to get up and stretch his legs. Looking at the status of the engines over his operations officer’s shoulder he decided he had enough time to head down to the wardroom and grab a coffee.

The ship felt alive under his feet, seeming to wake up after being dragged out away from Haven with barely enough power to run life support systems and start the rest of the powerplant. Now there was an ever present thrum of machinery and the hiss of blowing air from the environmental system ducts.

Walking into the wardroom he grabbed one of the lidded, spill-proof mugs that were secured to the wall and went over to the coffee machine. He had to fiddle with the spout since it had locked down automatically when the gravity had been removed. Eventually he was able to fill the mug up, taking an appreciative sniff before locking the lid down. Though it might seem counterintuitive given the lack of many common comforts aboard the ship, CENTCOM made sure that the coffee, and most other rations, that made it onto Fleet ships was as good as anything you’d find planetside.

“Captain on the bridge!” the sentry announced loudly. Since they were now underway nobody leapt out of their seats to snap to attention. It was standing policy on his ship that once out of orbit or out of dock nobody on the command deck would render courtesies at the expense of taking their attention away from their station. In fact, the Marine shouldn't have even announced it.

“Report, Ensign Davis,” he said, sitting back in his chair and slipping the mug into the holder, feeling the magnet grab it with a
click.

“Magnetic containment is stable and the plasma chambers are fully charged on the mains,” the operations officer said. “Engineering reports we have full thrust available.”

“Let’s take it easy until we’ve had a bit more shakedown time,” Jackson said with a smile. “Set course for the Tau Ceti jump point, ahead one quarter.”

“Ahead one quarter, aye,” the helmsman said, grabbing the throttles on his left. Immediately there was a deep rumble as the main engines throttled up and the
Blue Jacket
surged ahead under her own power. There was a gentle tug of inertia before it was nulled out by the gravimetric generators.

The main engines were basically enormous, electric rocket motors. Inert argon gas, the propellant, was ionized and then converted into superheated plasma through radio frequency excitation. The plasma was magnetically confined and directed out the nozzle to produce thrust. The advantage of a magneto-plasma engine is that the propellant is nonvolatile and it is capable of impressive amounts of thrust. The downside is that it takes a prodigious amount of electrical power to operate, but electrical power was something the
Blue Jacket
had plenty of. Four deuterium fusion reactors sat in a row in the belly of the destroyer, capable of running the engines and weapons simultaneously and able to provide enough power to the warp drive to achieve long-duration, sustained faster-than-light travel.

“At current acceleration, how long until we reach our jump point?” Jackson asked.

“Fifty-nine hours, sir,” Ensign Davis answered.

“Go to standard watch schedule,” Jackson ordered. “I want all department heads in the conference room in forty-eight hours. That gives them two days to make a complete inspection of their areas and personnel before we even attempt to power up the warp drive.”

“Standard watch, aye,” the communications officer said, sending the appropriate orders through the com system.

“XO, you have the ship. I’ll have my comlink if you need me,” Jackson said, grabbing his half-full coffee mug and walking off the bridge.

Chapter 3

The next two days were a blur of inspections, problems found, and emergency repairs made while the ship steamed out of the system. Jackson secretly liked the pace, enjoying the frantic activity around him even while his crew grumbled and complained about the “idiots at Jericho fucking up their ship.” He also took the opportunity to really lean on Commander Wright and see if he could detect any cracks in her polished surface. She looked exhausted and harried by the end of the second day, as she was the main point of contact to coordinate work between departments. She was the one who had to tell certain groups to stop, start, or listen to them complain bitterly about other people being in their way.

She handled it all with a forced professionalism and didn’t let the department heads bully her into getting their way. Jackson was impressed considering that she’d only been on the ship for a few days and had never served in the capacity of Executive Officer, but outwardly he made sure she knew that there was plenty of room for improvement. He wasn’t being harsh for no reason; he wanted it perfectly clear in her head that the road to a command slot did
not
go through him. If she was captain material then she would have to earn a spot on her own ship.

“All things considered, I expected the ship to be in much worse shape,” Jackson remarked, putting his feet up on the conference table and taking a pull of his coffee mug.

“You can’t be serious?” Lieutenant Commander Singh said, slouching down into his seat a bit. The other department heads had all filed out after the status meeting and Jackson, Daya Singh, and Celesta Wright were the only ones left in the room. Celesta watched the casual interaction between the two with great interest. The pair were obviously friends outside their capacity as captain and chief engineer.

“I am serious,” Jackson said. “Those were all very minor problems. A connector pinned wrong here and a check valve installed backwards there, all on redundant or secondary systems. All our primary flight systems look good.”

“As good as they always do on this antique,” Singh grumbled. “So what are we doing out here, Jack? Is this actually a mission or is Admiral Winters trying to kill us and make it look like an accident?”

Jackson shot an uncomfortable look at Celesta before answering. “You know as much as I do,
Lieutenant Commander
,” Jackson said, emphasizing his chief engineer’s rank. “I can only hope it’s something truly vital for us to be taking so many shortcuts while redeploying the ship.”

Singh’s next question was cut off before he’d uttered the first syllable as Aston Lynch burst into the conference room, his face red from either anger or exertion.

“Why was I not informed of a staff meeting being called prior to departing this system?” he demanded hotly, indicating it was the former.

“Is there a change in your status I am unaware of?” Jackson asked coolly, planting his feet back on the floor. “My understanding is that you are a passenger, a dignitary if you will, aboard my ship. If you’ve been assigned to my crew I will need to see those orders.”

Lynch turned an even darker shade of red before getting himself under control enough to answer. “I am in operational command of this mission,” he finally ground out. “In essence, you report to me.”

Jackson had carefully read every word included in his orders and knew the arrogant little prick had zero command authority over his ship and her personnel. Not only that, but Lynch’s demeanor—bursting into a room and accosting him in front of his crew—angered him greatly. He sucked in a breath to respond in kind, but Celesta jumped in just before he could.

“It was my fault, Mr. Lynch,” she said, managing to sound sincerely apologetic. “Captain Wolfe tasked me with running this status meeting. I assumed you wouldn’t be interested in a list of maintenance issues, which was the only topic of discussion, so I excluded you. My apologies.”

Lynch stood in the hatchway, mouth opened to deliver another blistering salvo, but Celesta had sucked the wind out of his sails. He straightened back up, adjusted his clothes, and assumed a lofty, bored expression. “Well, Commander,” he said after a moment, “please see that you do not make an oversight like that again. I will decide what information I do or do not need for the duration of my stay on this ship.”

“Of course, sir,” she said calmly, meeting his eyes. Jackson still looked apoplectic as his executive officer apologized for doing nothing wrong. For his part, Singh looked to be thoroughly enjoying the entire spectacle.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Lynch,” Jackson asked through a clenched jaw.

“I believe that will be all, Captain,” the aide said, turning to leave.

“We will be transitioning to warp within the next five hours. I’ll ensure that you’re alerted.”

“See that you do, Captain.” Lynch was through the hatch and gone before Jackson could respond.

“Pleasant young man,” Singh said blandly.

“Lieutenant Commander, would you please give Commander Wright and I some privacy,” Jackson said. It wasn’t a request.

“Of course,” Singh said, raising one eyebrow as he left the conference room, keying the hatch shut as he did. Jackson waited a moment longer before turning to Celesta.

“Explain yourself, Commander,” he said.

“Excuse me, sir?” she said, clearly startled.

“There was no misunderstanding as to the attendees of this meeting,” Jackson said. “Why did you claim otherwise?”

“Sir,” she floundered, off balance from the question. “I was simply trying to get Lynch off your back. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”

“Commander, if the day comes when I can’t handle some senator’s self-important toady then I will resign my commission as I would be clearly unfit for command,” Jackson said. “Until then, I would prefer to speak for myself. Clear?”

“Clear, sir,” Celesta said stiffly. “Is that all, sir?”

“That is all,” Jackson said, leaning back. “Please report to the bridge and check our speed and heading. We’ll be increasing velocity soon and deploying the warp drive. I want you to be there for that to familiarize yourself with the procedure on a
Raptor
-class vessel.”

“Aye aye, sir,” she said, still biting off each word. Once she had left Jackson was able to chuckle out loud about how she’d yanked Lynch up short before it had really turned into a pissing contest. He believed he was still right to correct her, however. While he appreciated her instincts to deflect irritants away from him at the expense of bringing heat upon herself, they hadn’t served long enough for her to know when it was appropriate and when she needed to simply sit and keep her mouth shut.

****

“Helmsman, steady as she goes … ahead full,” Jackson ordered. “OPS, start the clock … mark.”

“Ahead full, aye,” the helmsman said, running the throttles all the way up to the stops.

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Peters, the second watch OPS officer said. Instantly there was a clock that appeared up on the long, narrow display that ran the length of the bridge, just over the forward "window" (that was in reality a ultra-high resolution display which wrapped around the bridge.) It began ticking with elapsed time, the ship rumbling and shaking as the main engines came to full power.

“Hold this course and acceleration for fifteen minutes,” Jackson ordered, re-checking his data on his own display. “At mark plus fifteen go to zero thrust and begin shutdown of the main engines. Navigation! Where are my calculations for warp transition?”

“Coming, sir,” the chief spacer standing by the navigation station said. He was a burly man with a salt and pepper crew cut and was currently looking over the shoulder of a nervous spacer third class who looked like he could have been the man’s grandson, so great was the age difference. “Warp data for transition from Alpha Centauri to Tau Ceti going to your station now.”

Jackson began breaking down the data for the different course profiles in his head and compared it with the telemetry coming from the OPS station. The
Blue Jacket
would be carrying some extra velocity when they engaged the warp drive, but better too much than too little. After a moment’s consideration he decided to stick to his original course and speed.

“Navigation, you’re approved for transition course Bravo,” Jackson said after looking over the rest of the data. “Finalize your calculations and disseminate the data to the appropriate departments. Let’s make sure Engineering gets the correct power requirements. I’d prefer not to have a repeat of the Asteria incident.”

“Of course, Captain,” the chief said gruffly, apparently not appreciating the reference.

“The Asteria incident?” Celesta said quietly, leaning in towards Jackson.

“We were leaving the planet Asteria, that colony the New European Commonwealth has been propping up, and the power requirement data Engineering received was … off … from what it should have been,” Jackson said uncomfortably. “When we transitioned to warp we only made it a little over four light-seconds before getting dumped back into real-space.”

“Oh,” Celesta said.

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “As if that wasn’t enough, there were two Fifth Fleet frigates in the system. They asked repeatedly, on the open channel, if we needed assistance since we only went half a million kilometers. Not our finest hour.”

“I—” Celesta floundered, completely unsure as to what she could say to a story like that. It was a screw up of such magnitude that she was surprised she hadn’t heard about it when she came over from First Fleet.

“You should probably call Lynch up here,” Jackson said, rescuing her. “I’m sure he’ll want to strut around the bridge and get in everyone’s way while we’re trying to transition out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, relieved. “I’ll have one of the Marine sentries escort him up.”

“No escort,” Jackson said. “Just send a message to his comlink.”

“Thirty seconds until zero-thrust,” OPS reported, cutting off any reply Celesta was about to make.

“Confirmed,” the helmsman said. “Standing by.”

Jackson watched the elapsed time on the display march towards fifteen minutes. He remained silent, letting his crew execute his orders without badgering them.

“Mark!” Lieutenant Peters said. “Zero thrust. Secure main engines and prepare for shutdown.”

“Zero thrust, aye,” the helmsman said, pulling the throttles all the way back. Immediately the harsh vibration and rumble that had been present for the previous couple of days vanished, replaced by an eerie silence.

“Engineering reports main engines secured,” Lieutenant Peters said. “They’re purging the plasma chambers and thrust nozzles.”

“Prepare to deploy warp drive emitters,” Jackson ordered. “Open hatches, fore and aft, and begin high resolution scans ahead of the
Blue Jacket
. I want all debris from here to our jump point mapped.” After a chorus of confirmations from the bridge crew he leaned back, taking a long drink off his coffee mug before motioning Celesta closer.

“It’s not always this clunky,” he said quietly. “We’re stepping through the procedure slowly right now for your benefit and for the junior bridge crew we’re training up. Normally I trust them to know how to execute the more general commands I give.”

“I was wondering about that, sir,” she admitted. “I’m not used to actions being broken out into so many commands.”

“It’s not the norm,” Jackson said. “Although, between you and me, most of this is completely unnecessary. Under normal operating conditions you’re not going to do anything the computers aren’t in full agreement with.”

“True,” she said. “But in the event the automation fails it’s always good to have a well-trained bridge crew.”

“That’s why we do these drills when we can,” Jackson confirmed.

“Forty-five minutes from jump point at current velocity,” the chief at Navigation called out.

“How does our flight path look?” Jackson asked OPS.

“Long-range data is still being verified, sir,” Lieutenant Peters said. “We have a clean sky for over half the remaining distance. I’ll have the complete picture in a few minutes.”

“Good enough,” Jackson said. “Deploy warp drive emitters and begin charging drive capacitors.”

Eight onyx cylinders, each roughly ten meters long and three meters in diameter, began to extend out of the open hatches on the
Blue Jacket's
hull on spindly telescoping arms until each emitter was two hundred and fifty meters away from its opposite. Due to the ship’s oblong shape the arms on the flanks were shorter than the arms on the dorsal and ventral surface. The emitters divided the ship into thirds, four forward, four aft, each trailing a thick shielded power cable.

“Emitters deployed,” Lieutenant Peters said. “Capacitors are at sixty percent and climbing, seven minutes until completely charged.”

"Navigation?"

"Fifteen minutes until jump point, sir."

"Let's close her up," Jackson said. "Deploy all shields and close all heat exchanger hatches. Go ahead and start charging the emitters off the main bus."

"Deploying external shields," OPS reported. An instant later there was the uncomfortable sound of metal on metal grinding as large alloy covers moved to protect any sensitive electronics and the few actual windows in the ship. The external heat exchangers were retracted and covered as well. They were mostly for auxiliary use as the ship was completely capable of cooling all four reactors and the engines on internal, closed-loop coolant systems.