Firestar
Copyright© 2009 by Prince von Vlox
Chapter 19
“Courier from Fleet arriving,” the rating announced to everyone on de Ruyter’s Bridge.
Captain Matsuoko broke off her tirade in mid-sentence. “Who did you say is arriving?”
“It’s a courier, Ma’am. It’ll be docking in six minutes.”
The Captain scowled in irritation. “Which docking bay have you routed her to? Bay One is still unusable. No thanks to you,” she spat at Corey.
Corey was standing at attention in front of the Captain. Damage Control had restored a semblance of life to the Bridge. Makeshift consoles were perched above fire-blackened wreckage, but the shunt collars were functional again, the bulkhead had been repaired and was already repainted. The survivors of the staff, headed by Second Officer Markin, were arrayed behind the Captain to support her judgment. There was no sympathy visible on any of their faces. Corey wondered how much envy over her rank and age was a factor. And she wondered why all but three of Captain Matsuoko’s staff were still Fifth Officers despite having been officers for several years.
“We’re bringing the courier into Bay Three, Ma’am,” the rating said.
“Very well, I’ll be there in a moment.” Captain Matsuoko levered herself stiffly out of her chair. Rumor had it that the Captain was heavily bandaged beneath her uniform and was ignoring doctors’ orders that she should be resting in bed. Edith Matsuoko was a strong-minded woman, and a physical disability wasn’t going to stop her.
“Staff will attend me,” the Captain ordered. “Except Third Officer Andersen. As charges of mutiny and creating dissension on the ship have been filed against her, she is placed under arrest and confined to her quarters. Dismissed!”
It was worth it, Corey thought, meeting the Captain’s glare calmly. She remembered the cheers from the Hanger Deck as she had ordered out the spares, and that incredible screech from Tina over the All Squadrons channel as she and her squadron dropped on an Idenux cruiser and tore it apart. But she didn’t let any of that show in her face. Instead, she saluted crisply, turned, and marched back to her cabin, a pair of Marines at her heels.
Her cabin mates had been moved out, effectively turning her cabin into a cell. Robbie was bunking with another Marine officer, and Margaret had moved in with another of the staff. Alone, Corey sat at the desk and put her feet up on her bunk. This was nothing like what she’d felt in the flush of victory two days before.
As the fighters had returned, she had pushed away the fatigue and the ache in her ribs and arm. They needed to find medical help for Ellen and the others, and they needed a Damage Control team to repair the wrecked bulkhead and consoles. But there were Idenux out there. Her fighters, well, de Ruyter’s fighters, would need guidance as they returned to whatever hangar space remained.
The Idenux were running away with their tails between their legs, closely pursued by Captain Korina’s cruisers and Phormio’s fighters and cruisers. She felt sick, though. Raiders had set foot on Home, and people she’d sworn to protect were dead or missing.
Corey took a quick headcount as the fighters circled De Ruyter, tallying her losses.
“First Squadron?”
“Two killed, two damaged.”
“Second Squadron?”
“One killed, one suicide, four damaged.”
Ouch. “Suicide? Who was it? What happened?”
“Jenny LaRue. A kin-stealer dropped a nuke on her hometown. She rammed him and tore him apart.”
Nobody else said anything for several seconds. What had happened on Home was hitting them all hard. Corey’s voice was very soft. “Her Family?”
“Mostly dead, I think, or a large part of it. Jenny thought so. Damned good pilot.”
That was the epitaph of far too many in this war: damned good pilot. That didn’t bring them back. Corey took a deep breath and silently hoped that her own Family was safe. “Any others?”
“No, that’s all. That’s one too many.”
“Every loss is one too many. Third Squadron?”
“Two murdered on the rail, one damaged but diverted to Pharsalus, one damaged over Home. Savanna landed at First Landing, and she’s all right.”
“Fourth Squadron?”
“Three dead, two damaged. Two of my losses never got off the rail.”
“I know. Fifth Squadron?”
“One dead, two damaged. We got off lucky.”
“Just so you all know, one of the spares was killed, Maxine from Second Squadron, and two more were damaged, Jess from Fourth and Tylee from Fifth. We’ve recovered them already.”
“What happened on Home?” Tina asked.
“You know more than I do. I think it’ll be a few days before we hear anything, official or otherwise.” Corey glanced at the indicator lights. “Rail Two is the active rail. Land by squadrons, Fifth Squadron is cover.”
The crew and pilots did their best to change her mind about the battle. Repair crews were busy all over de Ruyter, and those who saw her in the passageways smiled and nodded. A few had even saluted. That surprised her. There was almost a tradition in the Navy of not saluting staff officers unless absolutely forced to.
In a way, the Captain was correct. Corey knew that from a certain perspective her actions had spread dissension through the crew. Requests for transfer off de Ruyter were everywhere. It was clear nobody wanted to serve under Captain Matsuoko.
de Ruyter’s pilots were even more emphatic. Early on the day after the battle, a very new pilot had knocked on the hatch to Corey’s quarters.
“Begging your pardon, Ma’am,” she said, saluting. “But Squadron Lead Whitestone would like to see you in her office.” Rita Whitestone was the Fighter Eldest on de Ruyter.
Robbie and Margaret hadn’t been moved out yet, and Corey remembered sharing a quizzical glance with them. Robbie had nodded her head towards the passage, as if to say, “go ahead.” It was obvious she was trying to hide something. Margaret had stared at them both in stony silence. She had been injured in the battle, a minor burn on one arm from the hits that had knocked out the Bridge. She blamed Corey for that, and had even said Corey should have been on the Bridge with the rest of the staff.
“I’ll be right there,” Corey had replied. “Did she say for what?”
“No, Ma’am, she didn’t,” the pilot responded, staring 10 centimeters over Corey’s head.
Corey had followed the pilot, trying to imagine what Rita wanted to see her about. When she opened the hatch and stepped into the Squadron Ready Room, the pilots of all five squadrons were present. As one, they rose to their feet. All five Squadron Leads saluted her, as did Ellen Stuart, who was with them, sitting in a wheelchair. Then the pilots broke ranks to crowd around Corey, some slapping her on the shoulder, others just touching her, each with a word of encouragement or thanks.
“Word has it that the Captain is going to roast you over a slow fire,” Rita said. The room grew quiet around them. “We wanted to say thank you for getting us off the rail and to let you know you are not facing the consequences alone. I’ve already sent word back to people on Home about what happened. If Captain Matsuoko tries to cashier you, political support be damned, she’ll be in for the fight of her life. We’ve agreed that, if necessary, we’ll all submit our resignations, and then re-apply.”
Corey had just stood there, tongue-tied and embarrassed. What Rita was proposing would certainly drag the whole sorry mess that was de Ruyter right out into the public’s eye.
“I just wanted so much to be out there with you guys,” she got out finally.
“Nobody gets to be a Fighter Director without having been a pilot,” Ellen reminded her.
“To blazes with all that for now,” Tina said. “This is a party! I want to know why they nicknamed you Crazy.” Everybody laughed, and suddenly they were all talking at once, fighter pilots together celebrating their luck in surviving one more battle, raising their glasses in memory of those not so fortunate.
“Didn’t you hear what she did,” Sarah Burton said in a brief lull. “Crazy here ordered Sugita to fire up our stern while she turned us away from those last couple o’ cruisers. I was flying with the spares, and when I saw de Ruyter make that turn, I couldn’t believe it. How did you know those Idenux cruisers were going to follow you like that?”
“I didn’t,” Corey said, “at least not exactly. I could already see they were thinking about it from the way they were coming for us. They wanted to turn de Ruyter into another Morosini. I think they saw how slow we were accelerating and that they could get in behind us and chop us up. When I saw that, I encouraged them, and Sugita and Ascender did the rest.”
“I bet the Old Lady is chewing out Captain Gorokhin over on Sugita right now,” another pilot laughed. “Not that she’ll mind. She and the Old Lady have never gotten along.”
“It was crazy, but it worked,” Rita said. “You better believe Gorokhin is going to be buying next time we hit the same bar together! Anyway, that’s the kind of crazy stunt Corey was named for. She does things nobody else would think of trying, and they’re still wondering what hit them when she gets away with it.”
Corey had spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the pilots describe their parts in the battle. It had been just like back on the Auldearn and Jellicoe, the excited voices, the jostling elbows, the swooping hands, the casual dismissals of the chances they’d taken, the brief silences when somebody mentioned a pilot who hadn’t made it back. She was tired but happy when she finally returned to her quarters.
Her feeling of satisfaction came to an abrupt end the next morning at Second Officer Markin’s staff meeting. Second Officer Markin had sent her off to inventory the supply bins to see what was still available for use by the Damage Control parties. While she was doing that, Robbie and Margaret were removed from her compartment, and Captain Matsuoko had announced that she was filing formal charges of mutiny.
Now, two days later, sitting in her cabin studying the tip of her pencil, Corey wondered what she could have done better. Her first time running an action, and 11 pilots were dead. Nothing she did would bring any of them back. Another 13 were injured, or their fighters had been damaged enough to take them out of the action. This wasn’t a fight she would brag about, not that she would have much chance to do so. Captain Matsuoko had important connections, and she was going to use them to end the naval career of one Corey Andersen.
Sighing tiredly, Corey kicked her feet off her bed. She thought about getting some reading done. She was halfway through a fascinating article entitled Deception Tactics in a Sensor-Rich Environment in the latest issue of The C&S Journal. Instead, she pulled a notebook out of her locker and commenced writing down everything she could remember about the battle, doing her own After Action Review like Captain Alexander had dragged her through.
She’d had no word from Home. There were plenty of rumors, some of which she had heard before being locked away. At least one city had been destroyed. From other things she had overheard on the Fleet’s General Frequency, the same thing had happened to several smaller holdings. Were Sonia and Heather all right? She didn’t know, and it gnawed at her.
Down in Bay Three, Captain Matsuoko drew herself up to attention as the lock opened. She wondered what had brought on this visit. It probably had something to do with their losses and that damned Andersen woman getting de Ruyter shot up beneath her.
The courier was a Fourth Officer who looked young for her rank. She was clutching a dark briefcase in one of her two prosthetic hands. She saluted crisply as she came to attention directly in front of Captain Matsuoko.
“I have orders for you, Ma’am,” the courier said.
“Orders? de Ruyter isn’t in shape to carry out any orders at the moment.”
“Aye, Ma’am, these are not that kind of orders.” The courier opened her briefcase and handed an envelope to the Captain. “Ma’am, you are hereby requested and required to report to the First Landing Naval Base for a debriefing and analysis of the just-concluded battle.” Her eyes swept over de Ruyter’s staff. “Admiral Fredericks added that you will bring along your entire staff. Your Executive Officer will be in command in your absence.”
“But de Ruyter--”
“Those are the orders,” the courier said. “The Admiral did say to remind you that de Ruyter has your Exec to put things right. She said you’ve trained her well, now let’s use that training. She also said that if we are attacked again, we are assured of enough warning to put you back on board.”
Captain Matsuoko nodded stiffly. “Very well. When is the meeting?”
“Just over four hours from now, at Fleet Headquarters.”
“Four hours? But I won’t have time to prepare for it.”
“I believe they want you there while the memories are fresh, Ma’am. I would offer you a lift, but I have to go to Pharsalus and another ship before heading back to First Landing.”
“I ... we’ll be ready,” Captain Matsuoko said.
“I will so report, Ma’am. The Admiral said I was to remind you to bring your entire staff and your Squadron Leads as well.” She saluted once more, turned, and stepped back aboard the shuttle.
“A full debrief,” Captain Matsuoko snarled as the shuttle left. “That’s a fine kettle of fish. I’ll probably be raked over the coals for the damage de Ruyter took.”
“Maybe not, Ma’am,” Second Officer Markin said slowly. “Communications on the Bridge were out for most of the battle, and that damage has been documented. There was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened.”
“It was that damned Andersen woman,” Captain Matsuoko said, so only Second Officer Markin could hear her. “If she hadn’t ruined my defense plan, de Ruyter would still be fully operational. Don’t tell Andersen where we’re going. Just get her on the shuttle when it’s time to leave. She’s still a prisoner.”
“Aye, Ma’am. I’ll have everyone else ready, though, and a full copy of the schematics from the Damage Control teams. They won’t get you, Captain.”
Corey was still writing when she heard the rhythmic stamp of boots outside her compartment. A moment later, there was a loud knock on the door.
“In,” she called wearily. What was it this time?
Robbie entered, along with a Marine Senior. “You have 20 minutes to get shined up,” Robbie said in a low voice. “You’re being taken planet-side for some sort of debrief at Fleet Headquarters.” She gave Corey a conspiratorial wink. “Prisoner is secure,” she announced in a loud voice.
“Aye, Ma’am,” the Senior replied in just as loud a voice. “Prisoner is secure. All correct.” The two turned about with much stamping of the feet and left the compartment, slamming the hatch shut behind them.
Corey looked at the closed hatch for a moment, a smile on her lips. “Twenty minutes, eh?” she murmured. “Fair enough. Thanks, Robbie.”
The next time someone knocked on the hatch, she was sitting at her desk in her dress uniform. A shoulder bag containing some personal items and her notebook was sitting next to her. She rose and blandly gazed into Second Officer Markin’s angry face.
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Come with me,” Second Officer Markin snapped, then turned and strode out of the compartment. A guard of four Marines and a Marine Senior fell in behind them.
Without a word, Second Officer Markin entered the shuttle and gestured at the seats in the back. Corey was led to the center seat, where she strapped herself in with her good hand. The Marines strapped in on either side of her, staring straight ahead in the best stone-faced Marine tradition. The Captain, seated in the front of the cabin, gave a signal, and the hatch closed with a sigh.
The trip was made in complete silence. It was early morning in First Landing when they grounded. Sunlight slanted across the landing field, throwing long shadows ahead of them. The base was busy, with additional shuttles dropping out of the sky every two minutes. Carts carrying missiles and energy packs were converging on other ships. A handful of people waited at the exits from the field. One of them broke off as Captain Matsuoko approached.
“Greetings, Ma’am,” the Fifth Officer said, saluting. “Which ship?”
“de Ruyter,” the Captain replied.
“Aye, Ma’am,” the officer said. “If you will come with me, we can get you settled.”
They made their way to a trio of carts next to a hangar filled with scout ships. As they settled in their seats, a dozen shuttles circled overhead.
“They’re from Captain Macquarrie’s battlegroup,” their guide said when somebody asked.
“What if an emergency comes up?” Captain Matsuoko asked. “I was assured I could get back to my ship in plenty of time.”
“All shuttles are being held at Readiness One,” the Fifth Officer said as the cart lurched into motion. “We’ll be able to get you back on board your ship within an hour of someone crossing the hyperjump boundary.”
Slightly mollified, Captain Matsuoko settled back on her seat. She scowled at the carts that passed them, clearly unhappy with the situation, but powerless to deal with it.
Corey sat on the last cart, surrounded by her Marine guards. It was a bright morning, the kind that motivated even the laziest gal to get up and get to work. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scents of Home. Despite what Heather thought, the Navy had made an effort to put flowers near the landing field. People had learned that there was no better way to remind people that they weren’t on a ship.
Captain Matsuoko made them stop at one particular building. She disappeared inside with a folder, returning empty-handed a few minutes later. She cast a glance at Corey, her eyes hard and angry.
Once Captain Matsuoko was back in her seat, the carts started again. They wound between the buildings, giving Corey the impression that they were picking their way through white-painted canyons. They slowed once for a group of Marines running in formation, before finally stopping in front of a building that looked no different than any of the others.
“Right this way,” their guide said, leading the way to a side door.
Once inside, they were directed to a smaller presentation hall. The room was partially lit and filled with naval officers and half a dozen civilians. The Marines halted at the door, waited as Corey entered, and then withdrew. The door shut as they left. Captain Matsuoko led her officers to a set of vacant seats on the left.
Other officers filtered in, finding seats in the room. Finally, Captain Macquarrie and the ship commanders from her battle group entered and settled in a block of seats down in front.
When the last seat was filled, Admiral Carter stood and made her way to the center of the room. “Good morning,” she said, turning to catch the eye of everyone in the room. “There are a number of things that went right three days ago, and a number of things that went wrong. It will be our task to identify both sets of events and see where we can improve.”
She turned slowly, noting where everyone was sitting. “I know most of you have never been in a meeting like this. In the future, we will hold After Action Reviews after every fight, and we will follow a pattern that I have seen used successfully earlier in the history of the Families Navy. First, we will work through an overview of the battle. We will break it into logical sections, starting from our first warnings all the way through to the end of the pursuit when the Idenux entered Jump.
“The battle itself can be divided into a number of smaller actions. In the second stage of our analysis, we will examine these separate engagements and the actions of each of us. I intend that these discussions will be treated like any tactical forum at Command & Staff. It may be necessary to create breakout sessions to focus on one particular part of the action. If that happens, we will form temporary groups to do so.
“This is neither the time nor the place to assess blame or hold a fellow officer up for critique. This is the venue to discuss tactical situations and to learn how we can fight better in the future.
“For those who want to review these sessions, they are being recorded, and a transcription will be available in five days. Now, we shall begin with the status of the Fleet in the Home System as of four days ago.”
The first two hours of the meeting dragged as each commanding officer reported her readiness state. Admiral Carter kept prodding people to hurry up, and people tried, but once in a while someone would raise a question and things would degenerate into a technical detail. Admiral Carter would let this go on for a few minutes before interrupting them to bring the discussion back to the main points.
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