Auberon (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

Jessica was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt just from his service record. He should have gone into command, and would probably have been serving as executive officer on a cruiser now. Instead, he liked to fly, and was really good at it.

He was just now coming to his feet, well after everyone else. Jessica let her smile settle on him. That chip on the shoulder was the reason he was stationed clear the hell out here, instead of on the main frontier. That, and a history with the daughters of Fleet Lords.

It was a shame that First Lord Kasum had been unwilling to provide her a better Flight Commander. Or, as he had explained it, “There isn’t a better flyer out there. And I don’t have time for you to break a new leader in.”

“Be seated,” Jessica said quietly into the silence. She waited for them to settle and the coughing and rustling to stop.

“To make
Simeon
interesting for you,” she purred, “you’ll land short, run the range on guns alone, engage every target, and you won’t be done until there are kill–hits on everything in scan range.”

Jessica waited for the sudden surge of noise to die down. She watched
Bitter Kitten
turn to her compatriot with an evil, victorious smile. She imagined bets were going to be settled after this.

The young man in front raised his hand to get her attention.

“Yes, Jouster?” she inquired.

“Just how short were you planning to execute the jump, commander?” He managed to combine bored, sarky, and superior all in one tone.

Truly, a marvel of a man. However could she resist the raw charisma of his money and breeding? Gosh, princess. Watch.

“We’ll come out of Jumpspace a light hour out after our second exit, get our bearings, and jump again,
Jouster
,” she replied, mimicking his tone almost perfectly. Others in the room noticed before he did. “The entire wing will execute a crash–launch when we come out at the entry to the range and go about your business.”

“Crash launches are dangerous, commander,” he scowled as he spoke, glancing about for support from his mates. The room seemed poised with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but she certainly had their undivided attention.

Jessica refrained from smiling. She would probably look like a cat if she did right now.

“War is dangerous business, Centurion,” she replied with a verbal whip–crack. “I’d rather you made your amateur mistakes on a safe range than when it counted. Any other questions?”

One of the older pilots raised his hand. Holly Dyson had a shaved head, lanky build, and a handlebar mustache. And a reputation in the fleet for crazy stunts. Crazy by the extreme standards of pilots. Another one exiled when he should be in the thick of things.

“Go ahead,
Gaucho
,” she said.

“Did you mean the
whole
wing would crash launch, sir? Everybody?” he asked. He had a pleasant tenor voice with an odd accent.

“Assault shuttles also have guns on them. The wing will be graded on time, not efficiency.”

That triggered another round of murmurs rippling around the room.

Bitter Kitten
spoke up from the back. “Why guns only, commander?”

Jessica smiled warmly back at her.
Bitter Kitten
knew some of what was coming, but had obviously kept a few tidbits to herself. That was useful to know.

“Because I intend to operate well at sea for extended periods. That means we don’t get to run home for more missiles if we shoot them all off at the first fleeing pirate we encounter. I want to know that you can kill things at knife–fighting ranges if we have to. It’s going to be dangerous out there.”

She let the smile fade and surveyed the room with a hard eye. “Any other questions?”

The silence hung. It was not the stillness of acquiescence. More likely shock. It would wear off. Or not.

“Then I will leave you with Senior Centurion Vlahovic for the rest of your briefing.”

She marched back to the open side door and exited. Once outside, she closed the door and smiled at Marcelle, who had listening silently outside.

“So what do you think, Marcelle?” she asked quietly.

“Lambs to the slaughter, boss.”

“Us or them?”

Marcelle smiled broadly. “I don’t know anybody who’s dumb enough to bet against you.”

Jessica let a breath out to try to relax. Command meant being right, being decisive, and being indestructible. It was only going to get harder from here.

Chapter X

Date of the Republic October 6, 392 Jumpspace approaching Simeon

Jessica walked onto the bridge and surveyed the scene. The tension fairly cracked.

That was good. She wanted them at a higher pitch than normal for what she had planned.

In one hand, another stack of hand–written linen envelopes. Being able to write those ahead of time required one to plan for a number of contingencies.

It was just one of the things she had learned from the man who would go on to be First Lord. How to fight wars.

Amateurs studied tactics. Professionals studied strategy. Conquerors studied logistics.

Tamara Strnad was already settled into the Central Station. She turned a questioning eye on Jessica, but Jessica shook her head. Up until now, it had been a test to see how well the crew could handle suddenly having to take charge.

They had done rather well. That was the test of Jež as the man who had been responsible for training them and keeping them on task. She had expected him to pass.

Now it was going to get messy. This was where the fun would start.

Or the failure.

Jessica walked next to Tamara and gave her a warm smile. She leaned in close as she handed the woman the next stack of envelopes and whispered, “Final exam, Centurion. Good luck.”

Tamara nodded back at her and looked down at the stack. The top one had the words
Open three minutes before you exit Jumpspace
scrawled neatly on the outside in Jessica’s careful hand.

Jessica moved to a training station off to one side of the long, skinny bridge, opposite from the one Jež had commandeered, and examined the crew. Today just might make or break them.

“Astrogation systems,” Tamara called out, “please put a countdown timer on the main screen for emergence from Jumpspace.”

“Roger that, sir,” Zupan called back, her hands dancing across the virtual keyboard in a fantastically–complex piano sonata. Numbers appeared on the screen, slowly ticking down.

“Flight Deck,” Tamara continued. Jessica could detect a hint of stress in the words, but she was handling it well, especially given the curveballs she was being thrown. “Five minutes to first hop. Wake up your pilots and make sure they’re ready. I expect second hop to end in fifty–five minutes.”

Jessica watched a message begin to scroll across the bottom of the main viewscreen.
Flight Deck green and green. Two crews ready for emergency launch at first emergence.
Iskra

Jessica nodded. Exactly by the book. It was a shame the book wasn’t going to be worth much in a few days. If she was lucky.

She watched Tamara open the first envelope and read the contents. Her black hair was just long enough to move as she looked down. It bobbed as she re–read the entire letter and then glanced up at Jessica with one arched eyebrow that melted into an evil grin after a moment.

Jessica nearly giggled with delight. This wasn’t
Brightoak’s
crew, but they were damned good.

“Flag Centurion Zivkovic,” Tamara called with a strong lilt to her voice, “We will expect to rendezvous with our squadron on emergence. Prepare squadron channels and make sure Flag facilities are ready.”

Jessica heard a squeak, from the young man seated next to her. Enej Zivkovic was a brilliant man from a poor family, so they had a few things in common, but he lacked the killer instinct that would have marked him for eventual command.

Jessica wondered if she could help him find it.

She watched him recover his poise with a quick glance at her, and then begin toggling switches live that had been dark on his station.

The next words surprised Jessica.

“Defense Systems,” she heard Tamara call, “prepare to bring all defensive shields and weapon systems on line to engage possible hostiles. Gunnery, there should be two vessels when we arrive, the heavy destroyer
Rajput
, and a fleet escort,
CR–264
. I want you to unlock everything and plot generic firing solutions. You will refine those as soon as we have any signals. If this is a trap, I want you to kill the biggest target you have first, but you will not fire without a direct order.”

Jessica smiled. It was the kind of order she had given a number of times, even approaching the fleet’s home base at
Ladaux
.

“Primaries as well, ma’am?” a young man asked nervously from in front of her.

“Affirmative,” Tamara replied calmly. “Primaries, Secondaries, missiles, and kitchen sinks.”

“Acknowledged.” The two weapons officers managed to speak in perfect synch.

“I will need authorization to unlock the weapon systems, sir,” the older one, the man in charge of gunnery, continued.

“Stand by,” Tamara replied as she flipped through the envelopes in front of her.

Jessica had already left her seat and approached quickly. “It’s not there, Strnad,” she said quietly. “Allow me?”

Tamara looked up with a smile. “Thanks, commander.”

Jessica concentrated as she typed. The code was a random ten–digit hash of numbers and letters. “It’s against regulations to have it written down anywhere other than in the safe. Even for training exercises, but you would have been able to retrieve it from there, if I was really dead.”

“Aye, sir.” She looked relieved.

Jessica returned to her seat and buckled the belt, just in case.

She watched her Tactical Officer, nee–Commander, take a deep breath. “Emergence in thirty seconds.”

Ξ

Enej Zivkovic looked at the once–unfamiliar Flag console layout and memorized the current settings and placements. Normally, he handled piloting and sensor duties, but he had spent the last few days in a crash course.

There was nothing about being a Flag Centurion he couldn’t handle.

Coordinate communications with the rest of the squadron for a Fleet Lord, or, in this case, a senior Command Centurion in charge. Make the occasional tactical observation for the commander, translate broad tactical commands into specific orders for ships on the fly.

Make sure everybody was on task.

It was basically multi–level chess, in real time. He was good at that. Why the new commander had put him in charge wasn’t something he was going to ask. It was a gift horse kind of thing. And momma always told him not to look gift horses in the mouth.

Besides, he was used to being much smarter than his commanders. Enej wasn’t so sure with this one. Something about the way she moved and looked at people.

And those envelopes were really cool. Totally archaic, and yet perfect for conducting this kind of field exercise. There was no way someone could hack the computer file and read things ahead of time. Not that he would ever try.

“Emergence in thirty seconds,” Second Officer Strnad intoned across the silent bridge.

Enej called up the stats for
Rajput
and
CR–264
and slid them to one side of his screen.

Rajput
was an older design, even older than he was.

Let’s see, class ship and the only one ever built.

Dramatically up–gunned standard destroyer design, all guns and no butter, as his father would have said. Almost tough enough to take on a light cruiser, but too fragile, plus cramped and extremely hard to maintain.
Useful if you needed to kick a door in, not so good in a general fleet engagement.

He could see why she ended up out here, the only one of her kind.

CR–264
was more interesting, anyway. After eighteen years as a
Type: Cutter/Revenue
, she had impressed into the Republic Navy as a very light corvette, and classed as a Fleet Escort. The rest of the class had been eventually retired, and they didn’t even make them anymore. Cutters these days were smaller and operated in packs. And Corvettes were larger.

Enej checked the readout again to be sure.
CR–264’s
whole weapons system consisted of two Type–2 beams forward and four Type–3 beams, two on each side?
That’s it?
Hell,
Auberon’s
two S–11 Saturation fighters and her Gunship were more heavily armed. But she could also go nearly a year without resupply if her environmental systems were well–tuned and the crew was careful about what they grew and what they ate?

Really? A whole year?

He made a note to look up the history of the class when he got off duty. That didn’t sound right, but it was kinda awesome if it was.

Nobody did that any more.

“Ten seconds to emergence,” came the call. Enej turned his attention back to the console.

One quick pass confirmed that everything was ready.
Auberon
was broadcasting her ID signal, scrambled on the latest fleet cypher. Daniel Giroux had the Sciences systems on full passive scan. Tobias Brewster was ready to shoot anything that moved. Nina Vanek had the defensive screens on and all the Type–1 and Type–2 defensive beams charged.

And…blink.

Some people couldn’t feel a ship come out of Jumpspace. Enej always thought that was weird, because it would wake him from a dead sleep. It wasn’t bad, just a hiccup, or maybe a ripple across the community swimming pool. But there it was.

His board came live quickly.

Okay. Rajput is there, closer in to the entrance of the weapons range. CR–264 was keeping station, escorting her against anybody coming out to play. We landed a little short. No, scratch that. We landed perfectly for them to go from a dead stop to come up to speed with us so they could blink hop briefly into Jumpspace and come out over there to run the range. That was pretty good timing.