While the other two ships were being repaired at breakneck speed, I got my first promotion and became a lieutenant junior grade. I was still behind most of my classmates who were already lieutenants. A few were already lieutenant commanders. One, I learned, was actually a commander and under consideration for the rank of Captain. I was still the junior officer on board the ship, but at least I had achieved something. I also knew the ship and its personnel better than any other officer. Because I was still the junior officer, I remained in hydroponics.
Because of our poor showing, I hoped that the other two ships would be repaired before we went out again, but such wasn’t to be. We left port before they were ready as a four ship squadron. Our ship was in the lead when we came across an enemy scout that we proceeded to blow to pieces. I didn’t need combat videos to know whose gun tore the scout to pieces, but I kept my mouth shut when it seemed that everyone was trying to claim credit. It was just as well for their attitude of superiority wasn’t to last long. The scout managed to get off a warning message despite the fact that we dispatched him to his grave in record time for Navy units. It was nowhere near what the company ships could do, but that was apples and oranges. Our ships should have sent a message at that time, as well, since our position was known to the enemy and given out information to our forces that might have helped.
We continued on to our patrol area, too confident within our command structure for our own good. We ran into eight heavy ships of the alien forces who proceeded to tear into our squadron from ambush. Only the fact that Frank was piloting kept us from being hit at first. I also pulled my first insubordination by announcing “battle stations” the old way. The Pennyweight personnel understood my meaning immediately and fired at the eight enemy vessels as Frank did his best to evade their shots and continue on. We lost two of our ships outright while the other ship was damaged heavily. Somehow the other ship managed to stay by our side as we fought our way through the ambush and out beyond them. At that point, we were cut off from our base when the Commander of the Squadron called me to the bridge.
“By what authority did you give the command for battle stations and open fire?” he demanded angrily.
“By what authority do you have the gall to even demand to know why I bothered to save this ship and your hide?” I answered just as angrily, upset that he had taken us into a trap and was too frozen in his command chair to give the orders for us to open fire. “Right now, you can court-martial me, though I doubt that you’ll be able to explain it when the combat videos are processed. You can do that or you can take credit for saving what little command you have left and I’ll keep my mouth shut when we get to port.”
He looked at me with almost the same frozen behavior that I learned of on the way to the bridge. Evidently, he must have decided to back off and take what credit could be salvaged from the whole mess. At least, if we could get back, we could report losing two ships and destroying two in the ambush, provided that the other ship with us could make it back. I didn’t wait for his decision and walked out on him, leaving him to ponder his own fate, now that he was still alive, while I went back about my duties. To make it even worse, the moron didn’t have the sense to try to chew me out in private, so our conversation got around to the rest of the ship in no time at all.
At the staff meeting the next morning, our situation was discussed a little more rationally.
“We’re here in the Lima Juliette Quadrant. The Avenger is heavily damaged with casualties equalling almost half her crew. Any suggestions, gentlemen?” the Captain asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “Have them land on a suitable planet to make repairs. If they can’t, then we’ll land to pick up their personnel. Their ship can be recovered later for repairs by Navy salvage teams. In their condition, they can’t defend themselves. We can’t afford to be tied down to them in space when we need to be fluid in battle. That’s the only way to give their personnel the best chance for survival and the Navy the chance to re-use their skills.”
“But we’ll be alone…” he almost whined in reply.
“We already are alone. They’re out of action as it stands right now. They couldn’t defend themselves against a scout, let alone a light or medium class warship. They’re down to fifty percent of their personnel on their feet, two weapons stations operable, and less than forty percent maneuverability. They’re barely able to keep us with us. If they try to do maneuvers at higher speeds, I doubt that their structure will hold together. I doubt that they want to provide cover for us to escape when they don’t even stand a chance of survival,” I answered.
The Commander stared ahead, becoming frozen again in the face of aggressive action that required a decision. Having another ship next to us must have registered in his mind as still having a force. To me, we were alone even if there were twenty Avenger’s in similar condition next to us. Quickly, the acting Captain of our ship chimed in with the same recommendation that the Avenger set down on a suitable planet. Even after the acting First Officer added his agreement to my recommendation, the Squadron Commander remained frozen. I left it to them to take action with the ship’s surgeon to have the Commander removed and later placed under sedation. That happened within two hours after the meeting dissolved, rather than adjourned.
I was called by the acting Captain to the bridge shortly after the Squadron Commander was taken to his quarters. “What would you really do? Leave them on a planet or pick them up?” he asked.
I said, “It would depend on whether there were any enemy vessels around. Do a complete sweep around the selected planet for enemy forces. Land the other ship and then ourselves as soon as they’re on the ground. Then transfer their people over here. We can use all the personnel we can get. We’re going to need to have personnel manning our battle stations around the clock once we’re alone. We try that now, we’re going to wear ourselves out. With their ship’s complement on board, we just might make it. If we run into any enemy vessels, we announce battle stations and go after them with guns blazing. No more pussyfooting. We don’t wait for them to shoot first. We already know that we’re at war. The advantage lies with the side that shoots first and the most. If the odds are too great, then we get the hell out of Dodge, but not without leaving a calling card that might slow them down.”
“Do you really think that will work?” he asked.
I answered, “I don’t know of any better way. I’m certainly tired of slinking back to port with my tail between my legs.”
He dismissed me then. I returned to my duties unaware that others, who knew how I had been performing duties that he and the first officer should have been doing, were advising him to do as I suggested. In fact, the first indication I had that he adopted my suggestion was when the alarm for landing positions was given. It was a sloppy personnel transfer, but it was still completed before we could be caught on the ground with our overslick pants around our ankles. When we were back in space, I went forward to the bridge and sought out the acting Captain.
“Yes, Lieutenant? What can I do for you?” he asked.
I replied, “I want to assign some of these personnel to gun stations and get those who don’t know how to shoot trained as much as possible before the enemy finds us or we find the enemy.”
“Is that all?” he asked.