Tales from the Academy

Chapter 26

"Mr. Payne, any change in the status of those two bogies?" demanded Jer Naddel.

"No, Captain, they're still hovering right on the edge of detection range," replied Anny. "I can't get a good read on their size or type. Sorry, sir."

"Very well, keep an eye on them."

"Yes, sir."

Jer tried to keep his mind focused on the simulator exercise, but it always seemed so odd when the rotation of duties made Anny his subordinate. The command structure of the Regiment of Cadets and its constituent battalions and companies was set up for all the daily routine activities and ceremonial functions, but the true purpose of the Academy was to train them all to be officers. In class or in the simulators or in field exercises the cadet ranks were usually put aside and everyone got a chance to try themselves out in every position. So today he was playing the captain of His Majesty's battlecruiser, Furious, and Anny was the sensor operator. A dozen other members of C Company made up the remainder of the bridge crew. The rest of the company were playing in their own ships elsewhere.

"Sir, that merchant ship, the Free Enterprise, is off-station again," said Hal Lindvig, who was acting as the ship's executive officer. He pointed at the tactical display.

"Communications," snapped Jer. "Tell them to get their asses back in formation." This was the third time the ship had lagged behind. He was particularly annoyed because it was a Komarran ship, part of the convoy they were escorting. Slowly the icon representing the ship crept back into its proper place.

Jer studied the display and tried to figure out what was going to happen. Something was sure to happen. That was the whole purpose of the simulation: to give them tactical problems to solve. Of course, the first few times they'd done this, nothing had happened, they were just learning the ropes. But now, it was almost guaranteed that there would be some sort of hostile threat or emergency to deal with.

The most likely threat would be a pirate attack attempting to capture and carry off one of the merchant ships in the convoy. Those two faint contacts were probably pirates, but there was no way to be sure. As the sole escort for the convoy, he couldn't risk leaving his charges unattended while he went for a closer look.

Fifteen minutes went by and everyone was getting edgy when Anny suddenly spoke up: "Contacts are closing, sir! Getting a better read on them now… looks like a pair of frigates… one a little larger than the other, maybe a small destroyer."

"Can you identify them?" demanded Jer.

"No ID transponders. Configuration and power signatures… the smaller one looks Jacksonian-built, the larger… maybe an older Earth design. Neither one is an exact match for any of the profiles in the latest Jane's. Sorry, sir."

"Huh," said Jer. Two small ships. Neither individually nor together did they pose any threat to his vessel. If they got within weapons range he could blast them both out of the sky in a matter of minutes. But the smaller ships were also probably faster than his so closing to effective range was going to be difficult if they didn't want that. So what were they planning? The mere fact that they weren't broadcasting an identity beacon indicated they were up to no good. Still…

"Communications, issue a standard challenge." The communications officer did so, but there wasn't any answer, Jer hadn't expected one.

"Continuing to close, sir," said Anny. The bogies were still well outside weapons range, but wouldn't be for much longer if they kept coming.

"All right," said Jer. "If they want to play, we'll oblige them. Mr. Lindvig, clear the ship for action."

"Yes sir!" Lindvig grinned and flipped open a plastic cover on his control panel and pressed the button underneath it. A recorded bugle call blasted from the bridge speakers and then was followed by the message: General Quarters1 General Quarters! All hands, man you battlestations! As many times as Jer had been through this, it still sent a chill down his spine. All through the imaginary ship imaginary crewmen were rushing to their imaginary stations. Jer had the mental image of electrons donning their vac suits. Speaking of which…

Regulations called for all crewmembers to be in vac suits when at battle stations. Often the simulations started with the cadets already wearing vac suits, but not this time, so they would have to put them on. Jer pulled his own suit out of a cabinet next to his command chair and began shucking off his uniform. To properly make all the necessary plumbing connections you had to pretty much get naked which, in his opinion was a damn undignified thing for the captain of a battlecruiser to have to do in front of his crew. But rules were rules…

Despite himself his eyes flicked over to where Anny was going through the same procedure. Whoever had programmed the simulator had clearly been given some strict instructions from… somebody. Except for her head, Anny's body was now just an indistinct blur, censored by the computer. She'd told them that from her perspective all her male comrades were similarly blurred-out. Jer could see himself and all the other male cadets as clearly as if they were really there on the bridge of a ship instead of linked to their simulator pods, but Anny could not. Presumably, she could see herself clearly… where had they gotten the data for that image…?

Stop that! Mind on your job, you idiot! He was quite certain that everyone else on the bridge was also stealing glances at Anny in hopes of some computer glitch. Damn it, she was a good-looking woman. Somehow, ever since Abigail Vorburn had made that shocking statement back at Vorkosigan House, he'd become more aware of that fact than ever.

He finished up and took his seat again, placing the suit's helmet and gloves in their holders, close at hand. Everyone else was also back at their stations and after a moment Lindvig announced that the whole ship was reporting ready for action.

But what sort of action?

The two bogies were curving their courses toward the head of the convoy, but were still keeping out of effective weapons range. Clearly they had no desire to tangle with an Imperial battlecruiser. Unfortunately, the virtually defenseless merchant ships could be damaged at far greater ranges and if they could disable one of them then Jer would be faced with the dismal prospect of either halting the entire convoy to cover the cripple, or abandoning the ship—which is clearly what pirates would want. Jer ordered a small increase in speed to keep his ship between the bogies and the merchants. At least they weren't splitting up and forcing him to try and cover two different approaches.

Why not?

It was an obvious tactic. Come in from two directions and while Jer defended against one of them, the other could dart in for a shot. But they were both coming in together—from the front.

"Anny—Mr. Payne, are you reading anything to the rear? Anything at all?"

Anny studied her displays and then shook her head. "No sir. Nothing at all back there on my scopes. Just empty space."

Jer frowned. Anything trying to overtake them from behind would have to be using enough power that they'd be spotted at a considerable distance despite any stealth technology they might have. A surprise strike from the rear while Jer was occupied in front seemed unlikely. So what are they up to?

"Opinions, gentlemen?"

He was the captain, he had the final say on any decisions, but their instructors had drummed it into their heads that only a damn fool would ignore advice from his officers. To him it seemed an entirely reasonable thing, but apparently it went against the grain of a lot of Vors to ask for help.

"Unless there are more of them hiding somewhere they can't hope to match us," said Lindvig.

"They're after the merchants, not us," said Alby from the damage control station.

Others piped in, but none had anything to offer that he hadn't already considered. This wasn't helping. "Options?"

"We need to broadcast an official 'scoot or we'll shoot' warning before we do anything aggressive,' said Anny. Yeah, that was true: they couldn't just start firing no matter what they might suspect about the two unidentified ships.

"Right," said Jer. "Communication, issue the warning."

Yes, sir," said the cadet at the com station. He pressed a key and then said: "Attention unidentified vessels. This is the Barrayaran warship, Furious. You are instructed to leave the area. Repeat: leave this area or you will be considered hostile and we will fire on you. This is the only warning you will receive." There, that was done.

"They're not going to let us shoot at them if there's any way they can avoid it," said Alby.

"Then we need to trick them somehow," said Wil Jerwood from his helm station. "Sucker them into range."

"Without getting suckered ourselves," countered Alby. "It might feel good to blast a pirate, but not at the price of losing a merchant. Lieutenant Cattani made that pretty clear before the sim started." That was true, too: killing a pirate would not count as much on their score as losing one of their charges.

They were still debating when the bogies made a lunge at the far side of their formation. Jer brought their ship over and managed to drive them off before they could draw a bead on any freighters, but it had been close. "They can keep doing this all day," complained Lindvig. "And they only need to get lucky once."

Minute by minute the opinions of his bridge officers swung toward doing something aggressive. Jer had to admit that the idea appealed to him, too. They started brainstorming on a plan to draw the bogies in while not risking the merchant ships. While they were doing so the bogies made another lunge, but they managed to parry that, too.

Finally they thought they were ready. Their plan required some precise cooperation from the merchant ships. It took a while and quite a bit of persuasion to get them to agree, but eventually all was set up. Or Jer hoped it was.

"Okay, let's give this a try," he said, rubbing sweaty palms on the legs of his vac suit. "Helm, reduce speed by 10%, let the merchies draw ahead of us a little." Jerwood complied and the icon for Furious on the tactical display slowly fell back a little. Meanwhile, one of the merchants, the fastest one, edged a little to the left.

"The bogies are coming about, sir," said Anny. "Looks like they might be buying this."

Jer held his breath as the enemy turned toward the bait being dangled in front of them. If they held their course for a few minutes longer…

"Captain, that lead merchie is signaling us," said the communications officer. "He's not happy."

"Put me through to all the merchant skippers," said Jer.

"You got 'em, sir."

Jer cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, if you'll just bear with me for a little while longer we can hurt these bastards and probably drive them off for good."

"Longer!" came back a shrill voice. "Longer? They're coming down my throat right now!"

"They're still well out of range," insisted Jer. "Hold your course another thirty seconds and we'll have them."

A snarl of frustration erupted from the speaker, but a quick glance at the tactical display showed him that the merchant ships were still on course. The display was also showing a stream of data and probabilities. While Jer and his comrades may have come up with a plan, it was the main tactical computer that was really doing all the work. It was analyzing the strengths and relative positions and vectors of all the ships and projecting their future movements and probable actions. There were two sliding scales that had his attention. One was predicting the chance of losing a merchant ship to enemy fire, while the other was predicting the chance of getting close enough to pot one of the raiders. Both were still low, but rising steadily. The computer was telling him that the optimum moment, the moment where the chance of catching the pirate was highest while the chance of losing a merchant was still acceptably low would come in … twenty-three seconds.

"Furious to all convoy ships," said Jer. "Stand by to come about on my order. Steady… steady… Now!" He looked to Cadet Jerwood. "Helm! Full ahead! Come to course two-two-three, mark seventeen! Engineering, emergency power! Give me everything you've got!"

His commands were acknowledged and he looked on in satisfaction as the lumbering merchant ships reversed their courses. The leading ship, the one who's master had been complaining so strongly, was the fastest of the lot and completed its turn in a commendably short time. The raiders were still heading toward it, but the colored circle on the display that represented their effective weapons range was still well short of the targets. Furious' circle, on the other hand, was now closing rapidly on the icon labeled Bogie One.

"Damn, we might just pull this off," said Alby.

"They see it, sir," said Anny. "Both bogies are veering off now."

"Good. Signal the merchies to form up behind us." Even if they didn't bag a pirate, at least the merchant ships were safe.

Second by second the distance to the target dropped. "Twenty seconds to effective range," said Patric from the gunnery station.

"It's all yours 'Guns'," said Jer with a wolfish grin on his face. "Open fire as soon as the computer has a lock."

"Aye, aye sir!"

The enemy was accelerating away as fast as it could, but it wasn't going to be fast enough. Furious would get off at least a couple of salvoes. With any luck…

"Main batteries firing… now!" said Patric. There was no sound or sense of motion, but a moment later a bright fleck of light appeared on the enemy icon in the tactical display.

"A hit!" cried someone and everyone gave a cheer.

"Solid hit on Bogie One," confirmed Anny. "I'm reading debris and leaking air."

"Well done!" cried Jer. "Now do it again!"

"Firing…" said Patric.

"Another hit! Dead on!" They'd hurt him, but his speed hadn't been slowed at all and now the frantic enemy was clawing his way out of range again. Another salvo went out, but with no hits this time. Two more and still nothing. The range was becoming extreme and Jer ordered cease fire. Darn…

"Well, we gave him a bloody nose," he said. "He'll think twice about…"

"Sir!" cried Anny suddenly.

"What?"

"That merchant, the Free Enterprise, it hasn't turned with all the others! It's heading away from us!"

Jer looked at the tactical display in shock. The rest of the convoy had done just as he'd ordered: turned away from the enemy, circled around behind the battlecruiser and then reversed course again to follow their escort.

All except Free Enterprise.

It had kept right on going and was now far, far behind Furious and the rest of the convoy. A sinking feeling filled Jer's gut.

"Contact them. Tell them to get back in formation," he ordered.

After a few moments the communications officer shook his head. "They're not answering, sir."

"Keep trying."

"Sir, Bogie Two is swinging wide around us to port at high speed," reported Anny. "Looks like they are on an intercept course with Free Enterprise, sir."

"But why would the merchie be doing this?" demanded Lindvig. "I mean they're giving themselves… oh. Crap."

"Hijackers," snorted Alby. "While we were distracted by their buddies, they took over the ship and ran."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" demanded Wil Jerwood. He stared at his console as if there was some course he could steer that would fix things.

Jer shook his head. "We could catch them, but only by leaving the rest of the convoy. Bogie One is still out there and probably hoping we do exactly that."

"What about the cutter?" persisted Jerwood. "We could load it with troops and try to retake the merchie." It was true that Furious carried a very fast shuttle, but…

"No, the other pirate would blow it apart before it could get there. They planned this well, damn them."

"I'm sorry, Captain," said Anny. "I should have noticed they weren't staying with us and warned you sooner. This is my fault." The look of sorrow on Anny's face sent a weird feeling right through him.

"No, we all screwed up here," he said automatically. "It was a group effort."

"Well, it hardly seems like a fair test!" exclaimed Alby. "I mean what could we do about hijackers on another ship?"

"You could have just ignored the pirates and done the job you were ordered to do, Mt. Worth," said a new voice. Everyone turned and their instructor, Lieutenant Cattani, had materialized on the bridge. "If you kept the merchies tightly bunched you could have fended off the pirates until you reached your destination and never given the hijackers a chance to grab their prize and run. That was the correct solution to this problem."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jer. "I-I guess I blew it."

Cattani circled around the bridge staring at each cadet in turn. "You all did," he said finally. "As you said: it was a group effort. You were all eager to take a crack at the pirates. Too eager. Sometimes, sometimes you just have to just sit there and do your jobs—no matter how boring or un-glorious that might seem. This was one of those times. But…" he paused and looked them over again. "Not one group of cadets in a hundred is able to resist the urge to go hunting. That is why they don't give battlecruisers to newly commissioned ensigns. Or Lieutenants for that matter," he added with a small smirk. "And, if it will make you feel any better, not one group in ten actually manages to score any hits on the raiders before losing the merchie anyway. That part at least was very well done. Without the hijackers in the mix this would have been a nice little victory for you." This brought a few smiles from the cadets. "But, unfortunately, the hijackers were there and this wasn't a victory. I trust you'll remember that."

"Yes, sir," said Jer.

"Good. Class dismissed."

A moment later Jer found himself in his simulator pod. He sighed and unstrapped the safety harness and open the door and stepped out. The rest of his 'crew' were also emerging. Most of them seemed pretty upbeat despite their defeat.

"Well, could have been worse," said Alby.

"Yeah, a lot worse," agreed Hal Lindvig.

They made their way out of Vorwood Hall and headed toward their barracks. Jer went over to walk next to Anny. "Want to study together tonight?" he asked. Alby and Patric drifted closer.

"It has been a while," said Patric.

Anny looked embarrassed. "I… uh, I can't tonight, guy. I promised to help Kara Dunvich with some things. Sorry." She quickened her pace and left them behind.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Alby, looking after her.

"I wish I knew," said Jer.