Chapter 11

The next morning I had the team pick back up with the mission planning, but my quarters weren’t as conducive to the work as I had hoped. It was just hard for us to sit around the little table in my kitchenette and have enough space to work. Plus, it only had one display, so there was a lot of switching back and forth going on.

I could have moved us all to some office space within ONI, but I just didn’t want to be anywhere near Navy headquarters. Too many important people running around, and too many distractions.

Of course my own unusual way of doing things was to blame here. Normally, a commander develops a mission and hands it off to his subordinates to have them make plans for their sub-units that conformed to their expert guidance. This was the way it had been pounded into my head in the Air Force. I thought this was pretty stupid.

I wanted input in mission planning. As long as I had time available, I wanted my people to collaborate, to come up with different ways to do things that I might not have thought of, and to take account of issues I might not have considered. Sure, if time was of the essence I would have to come up with a plan on my own and use the traditional methods, but that was not now. I wasn’t going to lose any command authority by inviting my subordinates into this. I was just going to get the benefit of all our collective ideas and wisdom, and it definitely improved the potential for their buy-in. And then, if one of them had to step up, he’d know the reasoning behind the plans and the contingencies.

Of course we needed space for that, which was something I didn’t have.

Sergeant White contacted me after a few hours of this frustration with a welcome update: the Sheep Pen was complete. He had worked with the local Naval Auxiliary folks to carve out some space for us and it was ready. It had to be better than this.

We all packed up and headed out, and I told Susan I had no idea when I’d be back. She was rather accommodating to us having turned over her home as an impromptu operations and planning office, but it was a home, her home. I could tell that even though she was doing a good job of tolerating our presence, this was an intrusion on her.

In the back of the Naval Auxiliary office was a short corridor, and on one of the doors in that corridor was a small picture of a black sheep. With a flourish, Sergeant White opened the door and motioned us to enter.

If the last incarnation of the Sheep Pen was impressive, this was simply amazing. When you first walked in there was the same bar/man cave thing going on, maybe a little larger, but behind that was what he called “the team room.” It had a big table in the middle, displays spread all across three of the walls, and even old-style white boards across the far wall.

“Will, where did you get the idea for all this? It’s fantastic!” I exclaimed.

“Pappy, back when I was MI once I had a chance to work with one of the teams. They had rooms kind of like this and they used them for all sorts of stuff. If you were going to get together to work on something, a place like this was what you wanted. We had the space here, so I got a little crazy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? This is exactly what I need!”

The Staff Sergeant on duty had followed us in. “When you don’t need this anymore, we’re going to put this whole place to gooood use.”

“Well, you don’t have to wait for that. This is your space. If you need it you use it. I just ask that we can use it, too.”

The Staff Sergeant laughed. “We might not mind too much coming here to hang out with you guys. Beats the heck out of going to Salty Jack’s!” That seemed pretty funny to him, and considering what we’d seen the other day I can’t imagine trying to get anything done in that place, or even hanging out there for any other reason.

We set back up and got to work. It seemed to go a lot faster here. We could pull up all the information we needed on different monitors, and simple old technology like a white board turned out to be far more effective for some collaboration than the “high-tech” tools of the Confederacy. Sometimes, things just work and you don’t need to “improve” them by adding electronics.

The idea we had come up with was to orbit really, really far out and do an exhaustive signals intercept on Tulak so there would be absolutely zero chance we would be detected. We were trading safety for efficiency here, but for mission number one that seemed like the right call.

The fleet of destroyers and cruisers that were in the area would be a bit farther out from us so they could react to any Sa’arm ships jumping in, but they’d be out of our way. If anything showed up we would turn tail and run like hell, and as soon as we got out of the hyperspace exclusion zone around Tulak we would FTL back to Truman and report. If the situation allowed, we would see if we could listen to a Sa’arm ship for a while to see what we could pick up, but the data wouldn’t get analyzed in real-time. We would record it for later evaluation, when we weren’t potentially in danger.

We would make good use of our remote antenna array and fire off some drones to go into lower orbit, whose job was to see if there were any directional signals being emitted, and to figure out where they might be pointed. At low orbit they could pretty quickly cover all the areas we were interested in and if the Sa’arm were trying to send signals in any particular direction, we’d pick that up. They weren’t very good for interception, but they could pick out a directional blast pretty well.

We discussed the possibility of linking up our systems with the fleet so if we found stuff it would automatically be integrated with their operational picture. My guess was that since we were unproven to these guys, they wouldn’t be very interested. That also added a small risk that the emissions we would send out in doing so might negatively impact our detectability.

Once we thought we had all the data we would get, we were going to try a low pass over the planet to see if we could pick up anything we missed before, but we would shut down everything but essential systems and run off emergency battery power. It was sort of like “running silent” in a submarine. We couldn’t do that for long, if we were going to maintain enough power reserves for an emergency main engine restart with a non-functional APU in case that failed, but we could run about three hours if we conserved power well and still have a safety margin. Of course if the Sa’arm had active radar going, we wouldn’t try this. With all the antennas and masts on the Oxford we would be very reflective to an active radar signal.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, the saying goes. Being able to receive on an antenna means any active signal pinging you is going to reflect off those antennas. One, or a few small antennas, not much of a problem. A veritable forest of them? Big problem.

After we had the plan’s broad strokes worked out, I set the team to trying to tear apart what we had come up with if the unexpected happened. A plan might perform well under a specific set of circumstances, but what if something else happened? Would the plan put us at risk more than we could accept? How could we mitigate those risks? What were our contingencies if a hive ship showed up, or the Sa’arm had some capability like a new-to-us weapons system that we hadn’t been aware of before?

Because we had all worked this through together, every one of them had a far more solid understanding of not only the plan, but why the plan was the way it was. When we came to the inevitable point of having it fall apart, as no plan survives contact with the enemy, they had the knowledge and understanding to independently improvise in a consistent manner.

Ultimately that was the goal. Improvisation always happens in battle. The ones who win do it well.

I sent the plan off to Colonel Decker with a note that I would be happy to meet with him once he had reviewed it. Ensign Chandler left to manage the logistics we would need to take care of before we departed, and I had the XO visit the enlisted men to brief them, and see if they had any useful feedback. I just had to sit back and decompress a bit. Being the central nexus in a collaboration effort was exhausting.

Ensign Hendricks joined me in the main part of the Sheep Pen. We both got beers from the replicator and sat down to relax.

“So Pappy, you think we can pull it off?” he asked me.

“Pull what off?”

“Breaking into the Sa’arm comms. That will be a huge win.”

“I sure hope so. If we can listen to their comms it’s going to be an intelligence bonanza. If we can inject messages into their comms, we can tie them in knots and have tactical and strategic impacts that would be enormous. They wouldn’t know which end was up.”

“Did you get any new info on them from the people here?”

“Nah, they still have no idea. They’ve tried a few things, maybe even strapped some sensors onto a freighter’s pods a time or two, but it hasn’t been any kind of real effort. Since they haven’t gotten any clues, they’ve figured they aren’t going to find any.”

“Well, they aren’t going in with the capabilities we have. We can pick up a ten watt signal sent from a mobile transmitter when we’re in high-earth orbit, even when we’re stuck in a huge radiation belt. Maybe not enough to understand it, but we’d know it’s there.” he offered.

“If it’s out there, we’re gonna find it. And when we do, we’re going to beat them over the head with it!”

Hendricks smiled and took a sip of his drink.

Colonel Decker was eager to go over our mission plan, so I made my way to ONI as soon as he said he was ready.

He cut right to the chase. “I have to say, this is one of the most unusual mission plans I’ve seen in recent years.”

I took a seat. “Well, I’m a little unorthodox in how I do them.”

He laughed. “I’ll say! This is more detailed than a fleet operational plan. Maybe we should have you lecturing at the War College!”

“Oh, please, not that! I’ll promise to behave next time!” I shot back, chucking.

“Shush. It’s a good plan and it fits precisely what I wanted from you. Now what about sensor data integration with the fleet? I see you had some questions there.” he asked.

“Well, my concern is about sending the data bursts to one or more ships to make that happen. It’s breaking EMCON and I’m concerned about the risk. We would also be getting painted by their efforts to share data with us, but I doubt their data will be very useful to us.”

“It’s your call of course, but sharing sensor data is good, well for better lack of a term, “marketing” for you to sort of sell yourself within the fleet. When your ID shows up as the one responsible for many of the sensor contacts, they’re going to take notice. You also have the alternative of only sharing that data when a contact shows up as a threat. Then their displays get a whole bunch of new information, including advance warning about the contact you got. You’d probably break radio silence to alert them anyways.”

“That second option might be a good alternative, if it won’t compromise us.” I mused.

“The other thing I want you to think about is doing some additional intercept work on any Sa’arm ships that might happen to show up when you’re there. If you are sure the blockade fleet will take care of them and you aren’t going to put yourselves in danger, don’t be timid to use any active measures you can if it might yield useful information. If that ship is going to be destroyed in thirty seconds anyways, revealing yourselves isn’t going to matter. You might want to work up some contingencies for that.”

“Good idea, sir. Maybe we were taking too cautious an approach in our planning, but if we get a risk-free opportunity to gain intelligence, I agree we should take it.”

“Glad I could contribute to your excellent mission plan. When do you think you could start?” Colonel Decker asked.

“I think we could be ready to leave tomorrow, with your permission, sir.”

“Well you certainly have that. Good luck and good hunting Lieutenant. I have high hopes for what you’ll be able to do out there.”

I stood up and we shook hands.

The other officers and I finalized our mission plan, sorted out the last minute logistical and administrative details and filed a flight plan for the mission with an undetermined planned return date. Tomorrow we were going to war.

Tonight we would all meet in the mess hall to have a meal together, and then retire to the Sheep Pen before we turned in. I had the crewman on watch duty on the ship lock it down so he could join us so we could all be together. One big family, celebrating our opportunity to go out there and change history.

Of course Susan and I played hosts, going around and talking to everyone in between bites of food.

Ensign Williams was there with his concubines Sally, our superb artist, and Theresa. My XO and his ladies all seemed like old friends, happily talking with each other. Todd amused them with odd stories from his US Navy career, often about the various ports of call he visited and the trouble he got into there.

Ensign Hendricks had a larger family, with Wanda and Betty, who served as our crew’s official photographer. Wanda’s son Timmy, who would have been a middle school student on earth was a lot less picky with food than eight year-old Joshua, who was Betty’s son. Both Betty and Wanda had been single mothers on earth, and it was Wanda’s budding relationship with Jeff Hendricks that had made it possible for Wanda’s friend Betty to get her ticket to the stars. The ladies fussed over the boys like moms always do, and the boys resisted mightily as boys always do. When Jeff laid down the law though, they were quick to straighten out.

Ensign Chandler ‘s family had younger kids, and both were from his marriage with Tammy. Billy would have been a first-grader and Bobby a preschooler if they weren’t here, and they were a complete handful. Grace had been their close family friend who they knew would want to come with them, and who they didn’t want to leave behind. Grace sort of acted like a favorite aunt to the kids and helped them out a ton while Chris chatted happily with his wife and those around him.

Sergeant White’s concubines Angela and Rita were just as outgoing and friendly as Will was. If there was an off-color joke to be told, it was coming from them. They laughed and joked their whole way through the meal and teased the nearby kids just enough to share some fun with them. I hoped Sergeant White would have kids of his own soon. He’d make a wonderful dad.

Private Smith had two women with him, Debbie and Theresa, along with Theresa’s son Johnny, who was five. He had found both of these women as unassigned concubines on the transport that brought him to Demeter. They had been rejected for some reason by their original sponsors and, having no sponsor, were existing in some sort of dangerous state of limbo. One day they found out that Gordon Smith had two available slots to fill and pleaded with him to take them on after hearing stories that the alternative was for them to exist in a brothel on Demeter if they were still unassigned when they got there. Smith treated them both with love and respect, and it seemed their lives had improved a lot. By the way the kid never seemed to leave his lap, Smith was probably taken at least as much with little Johnny as he was with the girls.

Quiet and unassuming PFC Wilson was an odd match for such an outgoing personality as Mary, but they clearly cared a lot for each other, perhaps in that “opposites attract” kind of way. Mary kept everyone around her engaged in the conversation, while Tim Wilson did his part by paying attention to everything she said and nodding at appropriate times. They shared a lot of touches and smiles, so that relationship seemed to be working out just fine for them.

Then of course were our two lovebirds, Private Walter Douglas and Kristina. They were still being consumed by the hot fires of their romance, but they were actually able to break out of their bubble and enjoy the happy conversations going on around them. They held hands throughout dinner.

I sat back and thought this sort of looked like a Thanksgiving dinner, although we didn’t have a big turkey for me to carve and bowls of stuffing and potatoes to pass around. Maybe I should mark this date down as something significant, and we’d make a tradition of celebrating the anniversary of this dinner. It would seem appropriate.

After people finished up they demanded I make a speech, which felt a little awkward to me, but they were happily insistent so I couldn’t let them down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and you young ones that are our much honored guests tonight” I started. “We as a family have worked really hard to get to this day. You’ve had to sacrifice your homes and everything you knew to come here on this journey and it hasn’t always been easy. Thank you for your perseverance and your hard work that make this all possible.”

Everyone was smiling, seemingly happy that this was all worth it.

“But I really want to thank one group in particular tonight, which is you ladies. I don’t think anyone appreciates you enough for all you are, for all you do, and for how much you support us. This would be so much harder to do if you weren’t here. You give us your talents, your love, and your hearts and I can’t tell you how much that means to all of us on the crew. We couldn’t be as good as we are without you, and we owe you a debt of gratitude that is impossible to pay.”

Some of the ladies seemed to be having allergy problems or something at this point, but I drove on anyways.

“When we go out on that ship tomorrow, we are taking a bit of you with us. I’ve spent many hours looking at what you all did to remind us of how much you love us, and I know the rest of the crew has as well. Plenty of times I’ve wanted to go there to be by myself with you all and found someone else there enjoying their own private moment, and had to wait. Many of you have donated your time and talents in different ways to serve our big family here, and all of you I know are eager and willing to do whatever we ask of you, without hesitation and without question. It warms my heart.”

“The soul of the Oxford is the family that we all are. The love you give us is what carries us forward on our mission.”

At this, the men seemed to all rise at once, lift their glasses, and shout “Victoria!”

We went through our startup procedures and slipped out of the dock, making sure to turn the ship so that Colonel Barlow wouldn’t have a chance to see our nose art. Traffic control gave us a vector and after we’d cleared the docks we started the engines. They burned us towards where we would have the clearance to engage FTL for the relatively short time it would take us to get to Tulak.

Once we were in FTL and relaxing while we waited to get to Tulak I heard some music coming from the wardroom. It was a classical music waltz of all things, and seemed familiar. After a little while I recognized it as “Blue Danube,” which made me chuckle a bit. Apparently Private Douglas had a love of classic earth movies as well as classical music, and had managed to convince the rest of the crew to at least tolerate his interests.

I successfully resisted the urge to ask the AI to open the pod bay doors.

“All hands, general quarters, set condition Zebra throughout the ship. Prepare for FTL drop.”

“All stations report manned and ready, condition Zebra, Captain” the XO informed me.

“FTL drop in five. Four. Three. Two. One. FTL drop. All stations report.”

“Conn, Engineering, all systems are GO. We are green across the board.”

“Conn, Sensors. No hazards. We have five friendly contacts, all bearing roughly 010 up zero. Range unknown.”

As was expected, this would be the reserve fleet that would respond to whatever the scouts out there found. We were using them as a protective shield on our approach.