Chapter 27
“True self-control will provide moments that appear uncontrolled, just as true training provides moments of stillness.”
Devlin Sinclair-Maru, Integrity Mirror
“Feel free to speak your minds,” Captain Saef Sinclair-Maru said to his reassembled bridge crew. They crammed into Tanager’s tight bridge along with Susan Roush and Inga Maru, the disastrous simulation the only topic on the agenda.
Following the simulation they had only taken time to collect the one missile fired during the exercise, and allowed the sections to sort out their chaos before assembling. Saef knew that most of Tanager’s officers and ratings disapproved of his tactical charade. Deckchief Church, who had endangered life and limb trying to clear the malfunctioning weapon-loading trays, now sat in cold, rigid stillness near Saef. It was a risk and Saef hoped it was worth it. Church half-lifted a hand.
“Deckchief?” Saef said.
“Captain,” Church said, struggling for calm, “I understand your desire for…readiness, but in all my years, in all my floats I’ve never seen something so…irresponsible.” His voice maintained an even, respectful tone, despite the severity of his words. “The Fleet procedure for simulations is centuries old for a reason, sir.”
Saef nodded, keeping his face free of emotion, but before he could speak Julie Yeager jumped in. “You fired a live missile! A live missile!” Her face was suffused, her arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes snapping. “That isn’t even safe.”
“Anyone else?” Saef asked, cringing internally, glancing at Susan Roush, who maintained a steady glower throughout.
“It doesn’t feel good,” Pennysmith suddenly interjected, her eyes lowered, hands folded in her lap, “but I think it was useful.” She looked up, then lowered her eyes, and Saef felt his heart warm toward her. “We failed. We died.”
“Speak for yourself,” Yeager said, turning her scorn on Pennysmith. “Your section failed. Your section killed us.”
Pennysmith did not look up as she answered. “Yes, I know. Now. But how many simulator runs have we aced without a hint of a problem?”
“Simulator runs we all know,” Farley, the comm rating said, looking down, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. “They’re just a game. This…this was something else.”
“It was a nasty hoax,” Julie Yeager said. “Amusement for one at the expense of everyone else. Against Fleet procedures, reckless, foolish, cruel.”
Deckchief Church grimaced at Yeager’s scathing words. “It was not Fleet simulator policy, and I think it was a dreadful risk to crew, but I think I see your objective, Captain.”
Saef merely nodded, his expression mild despite the unease he felt inside.
The crew of Tanager rarely saw the XO, Susan Roush, and the captain together in the same compartment, so rumor flourished. Susan Roush had been the most famous captain in Fleet, her horrific running battle on the opening day of hostilities populated the Nets as the number one vidstream for weeks, then overnight, she became the most infamous Fleet officer, dis-rated by the Admiralty. They all knew that Susan Roush was the only living officer who had met the enemy twice in actual combat, and they all knew that long before that, Susan Roush populated the upper reaches of the Fleet efficiency list, a seasoned captain with dozens of impressive cruises under her belt. What they did not know was how their upstart first-time captain, and the High Priestess of Fleet endured each other.
She certainly wore a hostile glare throughout this meeting. Surely her sensibilities were deeply offended by their prodigy captain and his absurd game-playing.
“Anyone else have any thoughts?” Saef invited, fortifying himself.
Ops Chief Phillipa Baker shook her head. A shamefaced Che Ramos too-clearly remembered his suggestion that they surrender, and now tried to will himself into invisibility, hoping that no one would recall that particular moment.
“I’ve got a few thoughts,” Susan Roush said, and Saef nodded encouragement. She turned her basilisk gaze on the bridge crew. “Aren’t we just a bunch of delicate little cupcakes here? My heart bleeds ice-cold piss for your wounded feelings. We transition in twelve hours—twelve hours! Into a combat zone, people. And when we arrive in, say, the middle of a rebel taskforce, all you pansies will be lining up to kiss the captain’s arse because our shit is almost together.”
“I’ve never—” Julie Yeager began in outraged tones, but Roush cut her off.
“I’m sure you haven’t, Princess. I know your type. Had one just like you at Ericson Two. She’s still there, orbiting that star. All her blood made the most beautiful icicle out her nose…all sparkly in the light. She got her wake-up call with a lungful of hard vac. You got yours today.”
The bridge dissolved into a chorus of voices and finger pointing, and Roush seemed grimly pleased with her work.
After a moment, Saef broke into the shambles with a firm voice, “Very well. I have heard what you all said. The point of all this is not recriminations. It is to gain insight. I think we gained insight, but what lessons can we take away?”
“Conduct surprise live-fire exercises?” Deckchief church offered.
Pennysmith flushed, but Saef nodded. “Does seem a good idea. What else?”
“Should we have signaled Fleet for help?” Farley suggested.
“Good. Yes, that is established doctrine, and in the heat of it all we missed that.”
“Not that any help would have arrived,” Roush interjected.
“Anyone else?”
“C-could we have rushed a transition?” Pennysmith said.
Saef sat up straighter and pointed at Pennysmith. “Excellent. If we began calculations at the first moment of contact we could have emergency transitioned out of their reach.”
“It’s not Fleet doctrine,” Susan Roush dryly offered, “and you can live to regret that choice.”
“It’s better than trying to surrender,” Yeager said, giving Che Ramos a scathing look. Che blushed red and tried to disappear through the deck plating.
Saef leveled a flat gaze upon Che. “It takes courage to say what everyone is privately thinking. I hope my officers and crew will never hesitate to speak simply to protect their ego.” Che blushed even deeper and couldn’t find a comfortable portion of the bridge to look at, but Julie Yeager snorted in derision.
“You may recall,” Saef said, “at a key juncture of the exercise I asked the entire bridge for suggestions, and only Mister Ramos found the courage to speak. That is commendable.”
Yeager rolled her eyes and looked away, but Deckchief Church cleared his throat. “Captain, I take it you had ideas on how we should have handled the…simulation, so you held out on us?”
Saef nodded, feeling the mood of his crew shifting in his favor. “I wasn’t trying to discover my reactions, so, yes, I held out on you.”
“What should we have done then, Captain?” Pennysmith asked.
Saef offered a rare smile, his internal tension easing. “Chief Maru will push each of you a copy of an analysis and prescription. Please study it in the time remaining before our transition. In just hours we will be in our target system.” On cue, Inga pushed the report to each of them, but before any could access the file, Saef held up his hand, thinking of the peace offering Inga had suggested to him earlier.
“I want to make a final point clear. I felt this exercise was very important, but I believe it served its purpose. In the future we will conduct surprise drills and simulations, but I vow to you, I will never mislead you again.” Saef looked across the bridge, meeting each eye. “The next time we clear for combat you can be sure it will be the real thing.”
Saef stood to his feet as the others shuffled toward the bridge hatch, and the dogwatch waited outside to crew the bridge. Deckchief Church stood at his elbow.
“How did you do it, Captain? That was more than a simulation.”
Saef looked from Church to the others moving out; only Roush and Inga remained at hand. “I informed Fleet of a weapons test exercise, put the XO in the auxiliary bridge back in engineering, and I got Loki to mock up the bridge feeds for the simulation.” Saef clicked his sword back in place. “We live-fired that one missile, but I had revoked detonation codes on all our warheads before the exercise began. The glasscaster rounds were expended, as you saw, but that’s within Fleet policy.”
Deckchief Church shook his head but maintained a neutral expression. “I spoke critically just now, Captain—”
“I appreciate your candor, Deckchief.”
“I may have been…I think I was wrong.”
Saef felt a tension lift from his heart but kept his expression neutral. “I am heartily glad to hear it. Cherish the moment, though. It’s unlikely I will invite a critique from crew again until this cruise ends.”
Deckchief Church nodded, shot a glance at Susan Roush, and left the bridge.
“Learn what you wanted?” Roush asked.
Saef stared after Church for a moment, frowning. “Our opponents are just Fleet officers—or at least were Fleet until not long ago…just a smaller, tighter Fleet.”
“Yes. That seems quite obvious.”
“So we may use Fleet habits against our enemies.”
Roush shrugged.
“What’s the most prized quality in a Fleet officer, Roush?”
“Efficiency,” Roush said without hesitation.
“Efficiency,” Saef repeated, musing, “which really means ‘cost effectiveness,’ doesn’t it?”
Roush nodded. “Efficient with Shaper fuel.”
Saef turned toward the bridge hatch, Inga Maru silently in tow. “Walk with us, Roush, and let’s figure out just how inefficient we can learn to be in the next twelve hours or so.”