Setosha - the Beating Heart
Copyright© 2010 by Prince von Vlox
Chapter 1
Naval Headquarters, New Republic, Capitol of the People’s Star Kingdom
“At this point, I turned into the approaching cruisers,” Families Navy Captain Corey Andersen said, tapping the side of the simulator. She was a young woman, slender with short, dark hair and large eyes. “This made them overshoot, and when the Idenux turned to get in my drive shadow, my escort--”
“Why should they turn?” Admiral Manersan interrupted from his seat in the front row. He was an older PSK Admiral, and he stood and began manipulating the controls of the tactical simulator. “By turning, you were at a virtual standstill with an easily predicted course. If they decelerated, they could have engaged you with all of the fire control advantages on their side. An Imperial Captain would have done so.”
The ships in the holotank, the Families Carrier de Ruyter, the cruiser Sugita, and the escort Ascender slowed and turned as Corey had described, but the four attacking ships slowed as well. The tank was soon filled with the thin white lines of energy weapon fire and the curving lines of missile tracks.
“Doing as you said, Captain Andersen, would let an Imperial ship generate an action with the odds entirely in their favor. After that, it would be just a matter of time.”
In the holotank, the engagement played itself out with the three Families’ ships winking red and then disappearing as they were destroyed. One of the four attacking ships showed damage.
Admiral Manersan looked at this with some satisfaction. “Even the most cursory analysis, Captain Andersen, shows that what you did should have cost you your ship. I would expect better of the first-term students at the Academy. You were lucky, that’s all, lucky. And that should be kept in mind by those who think your carriers represent something new in naval combat.”
Corey sat silent for nearly a minute, only the clicking of her prosthetic left hand as it clenched and unclenched betraying her feelings. Stay calm, she told herself, this is a diplomatic mission. You’re here to find out how they fight the Empire, not cull the gene pool. And anyway, he’s a man, so you can’t scream at him. Finally, she stood, automatically straightening her dark blue uniform, unadorned with decorations except for four gold stars on her breast and a Captain’s wreath on her collar. She looked so young that she was occasionally mistaken for a teenager playing dress-up in her mother’s uniform, even in the Families’ Navy.
“I was cautioned once about being lucky,” she said, speaking slowly so she would be understood despite her accented Standard. “So let us concede for the moment that in this case, I was.” She heard, but ignored, a rustle that went through the crowd of 70 PSK officers in the meeting hall. “I’ve been in many battles, and though I doubt it, it is possible that I was lucky exactly the same way in each and every one of them. Let us consider the elements of that ‘luck’.”
She studied the positions of the ships, and then reset them to when she’d been interrupted. She turned back to the PSK officers filling the room, but her eyes settled on Admiral Manersan. “I was lucky because I had spent several years as a fighter pilot, and so had a grasp of vectors one cannot gain in a simulator regardless of the skill of the user.” She saw Admiral Manersan stiffen at this small jab.
“I was lucky because several years ago, the Idenux caught the carrier Morosini in a similar situation, ignored the escorts as they bypassed the carrier, and opened fire from the rear, almost destroying the ship. Every officer on active duty studies that engagement, what we did right, and what we did wrong.”
“I was lucky,” she said after a pause, “because an hour before this engagement, somebody had tried that very tactic, slowing down as Admiral Manersan suggested. That let me combine de Ruyter’s fighters with her own weapons, and I destroyed eight of the ten cruisers that attacked us for the loss of one fighter.”
She ignored the gasps of surprise from the officers in the room. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she focused on Admiral Manersan. “I was lucky,” and here her voice hardened, “because we’ve been fighting the Idenux for more than 30 years, and by now we have a good idea of how Idenux Ship Lords think. As no doubt the Admiral will remind everyone present, the mind of your opponent is what you must understand. When you know your enemy, you have won more than half the battle. A general in Old Earth’s past said that, and I find it just as true today as it was back then. We know our enemy. Based on the evidence before me, I would suggest, Admiral, that you are not familiar with the enemies we face.”
“Why, if I was going to be nasty, which I am not, I might even suggest that you do not understand your Imperial opponents. But of course, I’m not the kind of person who would suggest that.”
She realized she’d been leaning forward, homing in on him just as she had when she’d been a fighter pilot and had an Idenux in her sights, and she forced herself to edge back. He was a man, and if the briefings she’d attended were accurate, he was not used to a woman treating him this way.
Admiral Manersan’s face went red. “An Imperial officer would beat you,” he said huffily, “just as they’ve beaten us for the last six years.”
“Perhaps they would, Admiral, but perhaps not. No one is unbeatable.”
“The Imperial officers have beaten us often enough,” Admiral Manersan said, “that I think defeating them in any straight-on fight is nearly impossible.”
“Then how is it the People’s Star Kingdom is still in existence?” Corey moved around the simulator and faced the room full of men. “If what you say is true, they should have wiped out your Navy years ago and ended this war.”
“Space is large,” Admiral Manersan said, “and we’ve become skilled at fighting only when we have a sufficient superiority. That, and our advanced technical skills, make up most of the difference in numbers.”
“Space is large,” she said, “but the location of inhabited systems is finite and known.” Corey looked at the elderly man. She wondered if he understood what he was saying. He sounded as if he expected defeat. Were all PSK admirals like him? Were all men like him? How did that affect the strategic decisions they were making? She started to say something, but he interrupted her.
“You are young for a senior officer,” Admiral Manersan continued, “and I understand you attended your Academy only a short time ago. I think an experienced officer would not have made a mistake such as you demonstrated in our tactical simulator.”
Corey felt her face freeze. She forced down the first thing she was going to say. Diplomacy forgotten, she locked her eyes with his, noting how uneasy it seemed to make him. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. She found herself edging forward, ‘taking the fight to the enemy’ as a good fighter pilot should, and had to force herself to stop. “You are a man, a rare creature where I come from. Are all men like you? Are the PSK men I’ve encountered been exceptions? Do you go into battle expecting to lose? I really want to know.”
“Captain Andersen--”
She talked right over his condescending tone. “Is this what happens when a number of men get together?” She ignored the murmurs she heard from the crowd. “I have been told that men think in different ways, and they act in ways that would seem confusing to me.” She took a step toward him, making him shuffle backward slightly. “Where I come from, it is common courtesy to hear out a guest and not insult her to her face. Is that something men do? Is there some biological imperative that forces men to do this? Please help me understand this because I really want to know. It will affect everything the Families do with the PSK.”
Corey saw the girl from the embassy waving, trying to get her attention. Corey ignored her. This had gone beyond diplomatic niceties. “What would you suggest, Admiral?” She gestured at the holotank. “Are you suggesting we see how ‘lucky’ I am?”
Admiral Manersan’s face reddened as he caught her challenge. “You’re not trained to use the Fleet Simulator. It wouldn’t be a fair match.”
“I agree that my lack of knowledge with your machine is a handicap, Admiral, but I won’t use that as an excuse if I lose. Or are you afraid that I’ll win, just like your ‘invincible’ Imperial admirals?” She looked around the room, finally settling on Captain Alan Young sitting in the corner. They were friends, an odd thing for a woman in the Families where men were so rare. “Perhaps Captain Young can teach me the rudiments of your machine.”
Admiral Manersan looked uneasy. “I know your reputation as a ship-handler, Alan, and if I accept this challenge, I want your word of honor that you will not participate in the game.”
Captain Young smiled, his ice-blue eyes glittering. “You have my word of honor as an officer, Admiral. I will teach Captain Andersen how to use the controls. After that, I will retire to such a position as you indicate so you can be assured that I am not assisting her.”
Admiral Manersan nodded. “That will be sufficient. Very well, Captain Andersen, I accept the challenge you’ve so rashly made.”
Corey looked at the time display in the corner of the holotank. “Now?” she asked Admiral Manersan. “Or perhaps this afternoon.”
“I wouldn’t want you to feel rushed,” Admiral Manersan replied. “Take whatever time you feel you need to prepare yourself.”
“This afternoon will be fine,” Corey replied evenly, her eyes never leaving Admiral Manersan’s face. She’d gripped something soft with her prosthetic, and squeezed it to keep her emotions from showing on her face. “I would suggest two engagements, Admiral. After all, losing or winning just one might be attributed to luck.”
“Um--”
“And isn’t that what we’re testing, Admiral?” she added, pitching her voice low, but knowing the microphone around her neck would carry it throughout the entire room... “Luck?”
“Standard Fleet Engagement Scenario, Sir?” Alan asked.
Admiral Manersan forced himself to break away from her gaze. “That’s the one used for these affairs. Say 1400 hours local time. That will give you four hours to prepare her. I have the impression that Captain Andersen feels that that should be sufficient.”
“Two engagements, Admiral,” she said softly. “That should test my ‘luck’. And yours.”
Commander Wendsel, an instructor of Tactics at the PSK Naval Academy, rose to his feet. “I want to thank you all for coming. This was the first of what I hope will be many lectures on Family Naval tactics.” His voice was strained, but he rattled on saying more polite things.
As he spoke, Corey eyed the holotank and its controls: a keyboard, a series of pre-set buttons, and a device that was like a laser pointer. She had some familiarity with this device, but now she had four hours to master it.
“You are just as crazy as always,” Captain Sofia Andarushka said when every PSK officer but Alan had left the room. She had been sitting in the corner, and now she stood next to the holotank, the scars from the burns on her face flushing red as she shook her head. “What were you thinking? There’s no way you’re going to learn to use this thing, not in four hours.”
“I don’t make much of a diplomat,” Corey said. She smiled at the Liaison Officer from the Embassy. “Sorry.”
“I’m surprised you kept your temper,” that woman said. “At first I was trying to restrain you, but he made me so mad I was encouraging you.”
“You haven’t seen Corey mad,” Sofia said. “Once there was this officious twit of a Third Officer. She told Corey she wasn’t qualified to lead a squadron because she hadn’t attended a Squadron Leader’s course. You’d been leading that squadron for what, 14 months?”
“Yes,” Corey said, “exactly a year.”
“She practically ripped that officer a new set of lungs when she was told she couldn’t lead her squadron into combat that day.”
“Fortunately for her we got it all straightened out,” Corey said. She turned to study the Fleet Tactical Simulator.
“She straightened it out by winning a birthright,” Sofia said. “You can’t argue with a gold star.” She followed Corey’s gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Corey shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll have to demonstrate any great skill.”
“What makes you think that?” Alan asked. He loaded the scenario that was used to familiarize the student with the controls.
“That ribbon you wear,” she said, nodding at the decorations on his chest, “the red one with the star. You told me that it means that you’ve commanded a ship in combat.”
Alan glanced down at his decorations self-consciously. “What about it?”
“Admiral Manersan doesn’t have one.” She shifted position. A wound she’d taken several years before had cost her a chunk of her behind, and made prolonged sitting in one position uncomfortable. “What does he do?”
“He, uh, he commands the largest naval shipyard on New Republic.”
“Ah.” Corey and Sofia exchanged a look. “I will be polite and assume he does that quite well. He’d better. With his understanding of tactics, he would be a dead loss in space.” Corey sat down at the controls. “Now, how do I use this beast?”
“It’s really quite simple,” Alan said, “once you understand the basic layout of the keys. Let’s start here with the squadron controls. They’re...”
People’s Star Kingdom Strategy Board
“These Families ships are too fragile for modern naval combat.” Admiral Lord Eldrow Dutton heaved his ponderous bulk out of his chair and began pacing. “As head of the Strategy Board, I have toured the Families Navy’s ships. They are jokes. They’ve packed the firepower of a moderately heavy cruiser into the hull of a light one. The result has all the staying power of a destroyer.” He slowly fixed every member of the Strategy Board with his dark eyes. “Or less. They are eggshells armed with hammers, gentlemen; they are not modern warships.”
“My Lord Dutton speaks the truth.” Sir Arthur Modeen, the Lord High Commissioner for the Navy, stirred uneasily in his seat. “I have had my staff research their combat capabilities. Their ships fight on an even basis with those raiders that have been plaguing them for so many years. Recently, one of our destroyers, a destroyer, gentlemen, and a damaged one at that, fought and destroyed two of those raiders. That tells me the combat power of their cruisers is less than the combat power of one of our destroyers.”
Rear Admiral Crown, as the junior officer present, sat in the corner, his hands in his lap. His fingers tightened from time to time to hide his emotions. It had been at least 10 years since any of these men had stood on a command deck. Warfare had changed a lot from those days, and some of the hallowed ‘fundamental truths’ that these men had learned in the Academy were as out of date as a fossil. But he couldn’t very well say that, not to their faces.
“I propose to use them elsewhere,” Admiral Lord Dutton said. “There is no question of putting them in the front line. For the safety of the women who crew these ships, that is the last place they should be.
“I recommend we use them in two capacities: first, the occasional raid in a peripheral area that will not expose these women to the dangers of combat, but will serve to tax the Empire’s resources. Second, we will relieve our own warships of the mundane patrol duties that keep them out of the battle line. Right now, five of every eight ships in our Navy are tied up escorting convoys and guarding systems. If we replace ships dedicated to that duty with those from the Families, it will increase our front-line strength by more than 260%. That is what makes the Families Navy’s contribution valuable to us, not whatever negligible combat power they possess.”
“There would be political opposition to putting them in front-line squadrons,” Admiral Cayley said in his nasal voice, “and that might affect my recruitment quotas. It won’t help discipline at my training centers, either. The recruits won’t take well to being shown up by girls. Besides, people want to see our ships defending them. They paid for them, they want to see them.” Other officers’ heads bobbed in agreement.
“I don’t even want to contemplate what the Opposition would do during the next election cycle,” Admiral Cayley added. “They may even garner enough votes to defeat the Naval Estimates, and who knows where that would lead. It could defund the entire war.”
“There would be more political opposition to a defeat by the Empire,” Sir Arthur said quietly. His small face pinched in one of his famous humorless smiles. “If that occurred, the only votes counted would be those backed up by Imperial battleships. I agree that there will be political opposition, but we must proceed cautiously. We cannot just issue orders to them like we could our own ships. Keep that in mind.”
“We will deal with the Opposition,” Admiral Dutton said, dismissing them with a wave of his beefy hand. “They have little understanding of the requirements of naval warfare.”
“What of the Families Fleet carriers?” Admiral Smaethe asked. “They are a wild card in this whole situation. I confess, on the face of it, they have certain--”
“They are a novelty whose surprise value will soon wear off,” Admiral Dutton said, cutting off Admiral Smaethe. There was no love lost between the Navy’s Head of Strategic Planning and its most senior Engineer. “We have been testing the proper tactics that the Empire will use against them, and the Families will have only a little success before our Imperial counterparts learn to deal with them.”
Admiral Crown kept his face still. This meeting was proceeding exactly as Captain Young, his Flag Captain, had predicted. For over an hour, he had heard one senior officer after another explain the weaknesses of the Families’ Navy. Almost everyone in that room measured naval combat as a series of single-ship engagements, as if every Captain arrayed himself against a similar ship in the enemy’s Navy. The lone exception, Admiral Smaethe, was an engineer, and as skilled as he was in his chosen profession, he did not have any experience that the other admirals would respect.
Admiral Crown sympathized with the Chief Engineer’s frustration. Even after five years of war, there were too many admirals who seemed unable to think in terms of coordinated squadrons and fleets, superior energy systems, and advanced command systems. It was as if every advance of the last 20 years had never happened.
The Admirals finally wound down, congratulating themselves on their collective wisdom. Admiral Crown waited deferentially while his superiors left the room. His staff stood waiting patiently for him in the corner of the anteroom. They swarmed him immediately, like a squadron of the Ladies’ fighters jumping a solitary Idenux cruiser.
“How did it go, sir?” Commander Witte was his Chief of Staff, and always spoke first. “Was Captain Young right?”
“Almost exactly.” Admiral Crown looked around. “Speaking of Alan, where is he?”
“Captain Young is at the Fleet Tactical Simulator, sir,” Commander Witte said. “I’m not sure which he finds more fascinating, the Tactical Simulator or the officer using it.”
“Oh?”
“Captain Andersen of the Ladies Navy, sir.”
“Ah. He does seem tightly focused on her.” Admiral Crown chuckled as he led the way to the inter-building shuttle. “What happened? I know she was going to offer an analysis of one of their actions against the Raiders. I didn’t think she was trained to use the Tactical Simulator.”
“She and Vice Admiral Manersan had a disagreement,” Commander Witte said. “The Admiral suggested that Captain Andersen was lucky in her engagements, and she seemed determined to prove it. Captain Andersen proposed settling the issue in the Tactical Simulator.”
Admiral Crown stopped on the concourse next to the shuttle cars and eyed his Chief of Staff suspiciously. “Chance is a factor in combat, but winning a few engagements cannot be laid at the door of Lady Luck. You saw her in action in the Casimir system, Druw. The esteemed Admiral Manersan could not have delivered a more uninformed comment or insult if he had studied the possibilities for a month.”
“But sir, he’s atop the Victories Column in the Fleet Simulator Competition.”