It was very hard to get used to the sound of the fusion generators buzzing again

HMSC Cardiff

It was very hard to get used to the sound of the fusion generators buzzing again. He had been on this type of mission several times before, but each was as hard to adjust to in the beginning as the last. The change from duty back home at port in New York City to being on a ship thousands of miles from Earth was never really easy to grow accustomed to. He imagined his feelings were the same as those felt by his English naval ancestors six or seven hundred years ago as they set sail to discover the New World. Even if you are used to sailing, in the open sea or in space, it’s so different from solid earth, and yet so comfortable.

“Morning, sir,” greeted the deck guard.

“Yes, I do think it shall be,” he said, adjusting his new shoulder boards and making sure the chevrons on his sleeve demarking his new rank were perfectly gold.

William Mill wanted to look particularly good, as just prior to embarkation he had been made Commander, a rank that gave him command of his own ship, the HMSC Cardiff. The Cardiff was a small craft with a crew of only forty men and women, but everyone had to start somewhere. In His Majesty’s 23^rd century Royal Navy, that somewhere was on a second-class escort cruisoyer, a space ship roughly the proportional size to the rest of the fleet of a traditional sea-bound destroyer with the crew to match, but with the firepower of a cruiser.

Cmdr. Mill was not entirely aware of the purpose of his journey other than to reach a certain sector and to there meet up with another ship, the HMSC Trafalgar, a first rate space battlecraft carrying an Admiral Thorne.

He stood against the brass bar at the rear of the deck and glanced at the numerous screens giving read-outs of speed, direction, location, and also giving visuals of the outside of the craft. Windows were entirely possible, but had to be so thick as to be smallish and ineffective. Walls capable of carrying images meant that, at any one time, the entire ship’s deck could appear to indeed have no walls by showing the outside images. He switched the screen closest to him to his navigator’s read-outs and found that they were nearing the Trafalgar.

Mill had never played host before on his own ship. It was a new experience to be walking with an admiral on a ship that he, Cmdr. William Mill, was in charge of. He wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong.

The two men sat in Mill’s office, which was in reality just his converted quarters.

After drinking some coffee, Admiral Thorne asked, “Do you know why you and the Cardiff are in service right now?”

“No, sir.” Mill presumed that there must be an unordinary reason for the deployment if he didn’t know why and for Thorne to be asking.

“Well, Commander Mill, first off I would like to congratulate you on your promotion.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I started out a line officer just like you. It’s a good place to start. Good experience. That aside, you are in charge now of your own ship. That ship, your ship, is on a mission to prevent Asian Confederation aggression against the Islamic Republics’ station on the solar side of Venus.”

Knowing the overall scope of the mission did not surprise Mill too much; he was aware of the possibility of conflict between the two. The Asian Confederation did not develop its own scientific resources, and Islamic Republics served as the scientific catalyst for the world, often developing Anglican ideals. He asked the Admiral if his suspicions were true.

“Very much so. The government of the Islamic Republics has asked us, secretly of course, to assist in their defense. They can defend their borders from rogue African and middle-asian states but not any major power. We, of course invented fusion power, but the Arabs have perfected it.”

Mill was uninterested in a history lesson. Any student from the Anglican Kingdom knew about the history of the last two hundred years. He knew fully well that as oil declined, the British developed a new source of power and that the Middle Eastern countries consolidated and began a scientific and religious commune based on Islam. This all was old hat, thought Mill, as the Admiral droned on, apparently impressed with his own knowledge.

“…so that means we have a connection to the Arabs. We rely on their development of our power system and they rely on our trade capabilities. Now they are relying on our defense.”

“But they don’t make alliances.”

“This isn’t an alliance. Look, Commander, we can see this simply as in our self-interest. The Asians are a scientific upstart and desire the space stations necessary for the procurement of solar radiation that makes fusion power possible.”

Mill understood the basic concepts, but was confused as to what he and the Royal Navy had anything to do with it all.

“What precisely, are we to defend?”

“Mill, the Cardiff is a fast craft. You will not be meeting up with any fleets or escorting trade vessels from our colonies or stations. You will act alone and intercept an Asian Confederation Space Service convoy bound for the Islamic Republics’ solar collection stations. You do not have the crew to board any of the ships.”

“Are you ordering me and my ship to surprise-attack the forces of another state? One that isn’t our enemy?” Mill was concerned with the idea of starting a war. He had learned in school how a fellow American and British subject, George Washington, had almost single-handedly started the Seven Years’ War that had eventually led to the 400-year separation of the Anglo-Americans. He rather liked his country.

Mill got up and looked into a mirror after the admiral had stood to pace. He felt older as he looked into his grey eyes and brown hair. ‘Why am I being silly?’ he asked himself. I should follow orders.

Thorne had stopped to speak. “You will be. It is unfortunate, but necessary. The trade advantages of controlling this power will be lost if the economic union of the Asian countries gets a hold of it. We can’t let them attack the Islamic Republics either because they will surely strike back against an avowedly atheist organization. The trade balance between the three of us has to be maintained and this can lead to war, even with one of the three.”

Admiral Thorne continued: “You will receive your orders tomorrow. Meanwhile, head towards sector UZ 45.”

With that order, the Admiral left the room and briskly walked towards the port room of the Cardiff to reboard his ship.

Mill was left alone, suddenly wishing he were merely following another orders as a junior officer.

It had been three days since Commander Mill had met with Admiral Thorne. Earlier in the day, Mill had received his orders and he was now reviewing them in his quarters.

The HMSC Cardiff is to proceed from sector UZ 45 to the Venetian sector UV 5. Intelligence reports an Asian Confederation convoy arriving at this point by GMT 2200 en route to rendezvous with Islamic Republics radiation collection stations in the adjacent sector. Cardiff is to blind communications of said convoy and destroy all three craft.

Mill set the printed order down and drank some more black coffee. He was to attack. He was concerned with the outcome, the implications of starting a war.

”They must think somewhat well of me to choose me for such a mission on my first command,” thought Mill confidently as he strode to the deck. “But wait, perhaps it’s a suicide mission….small ship, small crew, merely a Commander and not a Captain in charge,” mumbled Mill as he stopped after climbing the stairs to the deck level of the craft.

The buzz of the fusion generators was now more of a pleasant hum, as it always became even after a few weeks. Mill figured the sounds must be similar to that of the sea, or at least a modern equivalent. Without it, the ship would be utterly silent save for the noises of the crew.

The crew was making no noise at this moment though, as Mill switched on the intercom system and commanded their attention.

“This is your captain. I have previously been incapable of informing you of the purpose of our journey, in fact, I only recently learned of it myself. But now I both can tell you and should tell you.

“We will be attacking an Asian Federation convoy. It is on its way to take control of Islamic Republics radiation stations. We must do this mission correctly. We will be knocking out the communications of the craft and then blasting great holes in each ship. I will speak individually to the dolt crews and the fusion power crews. Carry on.”

Mill then walked to the dolt bay in the bow of the ship. Mill was excited, in an odd way, to get to use the dolts. Few captains ever got to even though the main armament of the cruisoyer is its dolt. The dolt is a rocket-powered, computer-guided, depleted uranium-tipped bolt. It is loosed rather like a torpedo, contains no explosives, but acts as a heavy ram through a ship. This destroys the gravity-compensators, pressurization, and oxygenation, in a way that renders explosions fairly redundant.

These are fairly low-tech for space warfare, something Mill always found funny compared to the science fiction stories of the past and their depiction of lasers and nuclear weapons. The chain reaction for a nuclear weapon is rather ineffective in space and lasers too large and their damage too easy to defend against. The largest ships, such as the battlecraft Trafalgar do carry cannon, which focus their fusion power temporarily into several lasers capable of differing wavelengths and pulses. The equipment and power for such weapons is simply too much for a cruisoyer. Mill reflected on his knowledge of naval space armaments and then focused on the task at hand.

“Men and women, we are about to engage three enemy ships. I need to explain your role in the attack. Of the six dolt stations on this craft, two will focus on each ship. You will only have time to fire one each. We must maintain the illusion that the ships are not being attacked, from the perspective of both the Asians and the Arabs. The station operators will be gleeful and report our attack if they know of it. They are in the dark.

“Your dolts will destroy them before they can act and anyone knows about our attack. Their ships will likely implode. Fire control will control the coordinates. You simply load the tubes well and do your duty.”

Mill moved to the ionic bay, where the fusion power generator and electronic warfare were houses. There in the bright, gleaming, and small control room, the lone operator sat. He gazed attentively towards his monitors and did not notice the Commander.

“Samps!”

“Yes, sir!”

“I need to explain your role. You will be on duty for the attack. You will power down all unessential electronic aspects of this ship, including the gravity compensators. Power will be expelled through the ionic expulsion units towards the enemy convoy, which will be directly ahead of our ship. You must do this directly on command. Their lack of communications and electricity will induce the possibility of them colliding, making it look like an accident. Also, no one should know of our attack. After you blind them, they will be destroyed by dolts. Do you understand, Samps?”

Mill felt the need to state this, because he seemed to be drifting. After Samps’ affirmative response, however, Mill thought that maybe he was just being a paranoid leader.

“The convoy is in sight and in range of ionic expulsion, captain,” barked the fire control sub-lieutenant. The deck was dark now, save for the glow of a few green screens. The window-monitors all showed the outside of the ship. Mill reflected that it all rather looked like a planetarium.

“Move to effective dolt range, halt, and prepare to power down.” Mill’s order was relayed to the appropriate crew and the ship began to slow, noticeable only in space by the lessening of the fusion hum and the stats on the monitors.

The enemy convoy had been highlighted on the screens by the navigator and were also shown close-up in one monitor.

Mill was confident he could give the order, confident that he was doing what was right in protecting a vital interest of his country, confident that if he and his crew did it right, no one would ever know.

He had one last thing to say; “I will tick off commands as drilled at appropriate times. My orders are to be followed precisely when I say to, not before, not after. We do this right and we will be heroes.” He knew that last line wasn’t true at all. Know Anglican would ever learn of their deeds: none could and none would want to know of aggression simply to maintain trade prowess and political power.

“We are in range now but out of theirs. Their naked aggression towards our friends in faith and trade shall not occur. Do your duty. God save the King and God save His Majesty’s Space Craft Cardiff.”

Mill hoped his crew would hold out for his orders. Without that resolve, it could be lost. He did not want to be like Washington and his Fort Necessity.

It was black in the ship now. Mill had given the power down order and the ship wasn’t moving in relation to the convoy. He picked up his microphone, adjusted his shoulder boards, and buckled his seatbelt. He did not want to float away and neither did the rest of the crew. They followed suit.

“Concentrate power, shut down gravity, and prepare for expulsion.” His order was followed and his hair suddenly stood on end, his tie floating until he caught it.

“Ready, sir!” said the fire control operator. “Shall I relay the message to the ionic bay?”

“Yes, begin electronic interference.” With that order, the ship shuddered, the hum of the fusion generators became a sudden roar and within seconds, the three convoy ships could be seen to lurch, no longer in perfect formation.

“Prepare dolts. Loose in three….two….one….loose!” The Cardiff did not lurch this time. The dolts didn’t affect the craft. This momentarily confused Mill, for he had never actually fired any. He could see the six of them barreling through space, resembling ancient Roman bolts and torpedoes, all at once.

Then they hit. It was hard to tell at first, but the first ship was struck by the second and the third jolted above the other two. All three quickly imploded. The silence was striking for such destruction.

“Crew. Commander Mill here. We have completed our mission. Power up, remain in stations, and reverse course. Job well done.”

It was over.

“Sir?” said the communications specialist on duty.

“Yes, Ms. Harding?”

“Sir, you’re needed on the deck. Admiral Thorne is on monitor.”

Mill went to the deck and answered Thorne. “Admiral, sir?”

“Mill, our intelligence was wrong. There were four ships during that attack a few days ago. The fourth escaped and messaged home. The Asian Federation assumes the Islamic Republics attacked them and are claiming they had no such intentions to attack them first. We’re looking at war between all three of us. The Republics are blaming us for failing and the Asians are claiming we have allied with the Republics. You need to report the Cardiff to the Venetian base to join taskforce Y and the Trafalgar.”

Commander William Mill directed the appropriate crew, unbuttoned his jacket, and yet hardly felt any surprise...