a dim yellow.
William caught his breath. They weren’t just shrinking back a few borders, but all of the borders. They didn’t have enough ships to cover everything. No, that didn’t make sense he thought, they could make ships in a month or so. What they lacked was crew. Trained crew. He looked around and saw the ranks, all lower echelon. The most experienced were either on the Sa’Ami frontier or dead on the Hun border.
His eyes searched for Farshore, the planet of his birth. It was tucked away on the far edge of space, one of the dim yellow planets. How odd, he thought, everything that happened there to force the creation of the United Colonies and they abandon it.
Whispers and murmurs rose. An angry woman called out about abandonment. William peered down and wondered where she was from. He glanced around and saw two groups: those who looked proud and those who looked lost. He assumed the men and women with eager faces were those born on Earth, or the inner colonies.
Admiral Hollins didn’t miss a beat. “The Outer Colonies will be reclaimed, but for now we need to bring our force to bear and stop them before they reach the Inner Colonies.” He cleared his face and clasped his hands behind his back. The display shifted and zoomed in on the Inner Colonies. The bright blue and white badge of the United Colonies was hovering over Earth. “This will be our finest moment. Your orders will be delivered shortly.” He turned and walked off the stage.
“Admiral!” a voice cried out. “Questions?”
Admiral Hollins stopped and turned his head to the crowd. “No questions.”
William sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t argue with the big picture, but it didn’t sit well. At every level it made perfect tactical sense. Draw them in, react quicker than they could, and use the closer supply lines. But still, he didn’t like it. He looked around and saw an opening out the door. Most of the room still looked up to the divided star map. He snuck out before the crush of officers departed. He had a ship to inspect.
*
T he packet was simple. Charts followed by a manifest and the book of Standing Fleet Orders. He leaned against the rough wall and stared down at the Summary of Orders for his ship, S245998 . Simple. Almost brutally so. He was to escort a convoy to Winterthur, guard against incursions, oversee asset transfers, and return. He was, under no circumstances, to remain.
He didn’t like that part. So many mission parameters might require him to remain on station. Or was it because he knew the ship would de-assemble? He noted that it never mentioned the disassembly anywhere in the orders. Was Admiral Dover mistaken?
The threat assessment tab was particularly interesting. He was, according to the analysis, guaranteed to encounter Sa’Ami harassment drones. He’d seen them before, saw the raw damage they could inflict, and didn’t feel comfortable protecting a convoy, especially with only a handful of Marines.
The following tab laid out the capabilities of the ship. That, at least, made him feel better. The quad batteries of mass drivers were specifically designed to intercept missile launches while the rear mounted missile launcher was specifically to kill Sa’Ami drones. The ship relied on mass and sheer bulk to react to incoming railgun slugs. A pincushion, he thought, a railgun pincushion.
The one thing he didn’t like was he only had one railgun. They were accurate, powerful, and helped a small ship hit above its weight class. He understood the problems: at long ranges, the projectiles could be avoided while at short ranges a mass driver could do it better. But still, he liked that big bore nickel slug. If only they could get it to fire a smart projectile.
William walked slowly and studied the crew. They stood in ranks at the edge of the airlock. His crew. He came closer and tried to do an approximation of what he thought a Captain should do. On the front edge stood Huron and Lieutenant Shay.
Learning to Kill: Stories