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The Meeting - Part Fourteen
Room Without a View
22.03.2268. 1545 GMT
Saltlake Naval Base
Earth Orbit
Lt. Dupuis had fretted away his entire last day before
departure, wondering why he'd been singled out for this kind of misfortune. The
Independence War was about to cease being an abstraction for analysis and data
flow modeling. It was about to become a very real and dangerous thing for him.
He left more than an hour early for boarding after a miserably bland lunch. It
took him ten minutes to get from his quarters to the docking ramp included in
his orders, and he had to wait fifteen minutes to go through security. He had
not seen a security screening of this depth since anywhere except Naval HQ.
He had arrived at the dock for boarding call several
hours early in hopes of gaining some sense of orientation in the whirlwind of
events that had him going out on active duty for the first time. From the looks
of it, everyone else involved had had the same idea. The area was already busy
with activity with marines, ship crew and station personnel transferring and
securing everything from food stores to data files. He wondered if they had all
suffered the same kind of shock at the announcement of this mission. It didn't
seem likely, as they all went about their business with an air of normalcy. He
found himself wondering who these people were, that they would choose such a
life. It made him think of his own choices, which, of course led him to
thoughts of Corinna, and the path not chosen.
Three years ago, his career ambitions won out over
love, and they had separated, going their separate ways. She had her research
career to pursue and she said she would accept his choice, but she also seemed
to be harder hit by it than he had expected. She seemed to recover quickly
though. She took a research position at a secure Naval research facility
somewhere in AC-24. It was supposed to be a top-secret project at a top-secret
facility, but she sent him a message or two forcing him to swear he would never
reveal that she had broken protocol to contact him. He kept his promise, but
being in the Intelligence Branch, he did a little digging, and he figured out
where she was, more or less. He discovered she was at the hitherto unknown SRF
or Singularity Research Facility.but exactly where it was located
remained a mystery. He still didn't know much about Corinna's research but he
knew it had something to do with materials testing. Knowing she was working on
ultra secret Navy research projects just made her feel more lost to him than
ever. Staring at the hatch opening to the Redoubt's interior made him
wonder if he would ever see her again.
He wasn't sure why it mattered to
him, but three years later, he still found himself thinking of her more than he
cared to admit. He'd only heard from her twice since, but he thought of her a
good deal more than that. Had it really been three years already? She still
invaded his thoughts often, and this was one of those times. Fear, he realized
was one of the triggers. Whenever he felt fear, he thought of her, and of how
she could make him feel so much less afraid. He fought now to shut his mind to
thoughts of her as he prepared to board a Dreadnaught-class corvette for the
first time. He was unwilling to entertain regret about ending that
relationship. Not now.
The Amarid disaster debriefing had scared him. The
orders he received at the end of that day hit him like explosive decompression.
The mission briefing he witnessed two days ago, though much smaller in scale,
was even more disturbing, mostly because the reality of what he was about to do
hit him that much harder. He had a new respect for the officers and crew who
routinely went out in star ships, traveled across vast distances at
unfathomable speeds, jumped to other stars via the even more unfathomable
physical shift of capsule space, and faced death in exchanges of missiles and
beam cannons with some unseen foe. He was an analyst; a desk jockey; a
station-bound, strategic problem-solving kind of guy, not one of these
man-of-action types getting ready to go out there and do battle.
He was flat out terrified.
He was
greeted at the entrance to the UDC personnel hatch by one of the few faces on
this ship he knew to be familiar. She was petite and small of frame, her skin
velvety brown, and her eyes were so large and so completely dark they seemed to
dominate her face.
"Lt. Ravindran. Thanks for meeting me here. I'm not
sure I'd be able to find my way to where I'm supposed to be without an escort."
She flashed a smile that brightened her face
remarkably from the business like expression from a moment before. "No trouble
at all Lieutenant, and welcome aboard. It does take a bit of getting used to,
but once you've seen how she's laid out, it won't seem complicated at all," she
said warmly as she pointed inward. "Shall we?"
She led him into the cavernous main UDC shaft and
through a hatch that opened directly into the port accommodation module. They
oriented to a new up-down arrangement, and walked with a casual stroll down a
short but very wide main corridor. "This module is where you'll be most of the
time," she said. "If, for some reason, the Captain wants to meet with you
personally, he'll either come to you, or send someone to escort you to his
office or maybe the briefing room. I doubt you'll ever need to go to the
bridge. In general, I would suggest you refrain from any unauthorized
explorations," she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice a notch.
"We've got a full load of marines aboard this trip, and we don't want you
wandering somewhere you shouldn't."
"Agreed," he nodded vigorously. "I saw them at the
dockside. They're huge, and so.bald."
She smiled again and stopped outside a door halfway
down the corridor, on the right hand side. The door was one of two doors on
either side of the corridor facing one another. "This is the forward alternate
bridge officer's suite," she nodded at the closed door. "We've had to juggle a
few accommodations, but this is where you'll be billeted for the duration. I'm
sure you'll find it comfortable. If you have any questions, or need anything,
consult the manual, or just ask one of the crew in this section. I'll have to
leave you now and return to my bridge duties, but it has been a pleasure to see
you again Lieutenant. Enjoy the ride." With that she returned the way they
came, and exited through the hatch to the UDC. It took him a moment to realize
that they likely wouldn't be seeing much of one another during this mission. Pity,
he thought. She was one of the few members of the crew he'd encountered that
were nice to him, and even nicer to look at.
He stepped into a common room that served as a
sitting space and office for two officers. It wasn't as small as he thought it
might be. In fact, aside from the somewhat utilitarian décor, it was downright
commodious. Two doors on opposite walls, one to the right, one to the left,
would lead to individual officer's quarters. He didn't care which, so for no
particular reason, he opened the one on the right. The hatch slid open and
Yves stepped in to the darkened room, and touched the controls of the dimmer.
The lights revealed an occupant on the bed, with a kitbag on the floor next to
him, arm flung over his eyes to shield them from the light.
"Who's
there?" said the squinting officer, starting to peer out from under the crook
of his arm.
"Dupuis.
I'm Yves Dupuis," he answered. "I, ah, guess we're bunkmates. I didn't realize
you were in here. I'll just take the other room, then." He started to step out,
and reached to turn the lights back down.
"No,
that's alright," the voice from the bed replied. "Leave it on. In fact, you can
have this one if you want. I don't care one way or the other. Oh, by the way,
I'm Skarsgaard. Lieutenant Commander. Formerly of Vice Admiral Wexler's staff,
now Chief Engineer. Don't worry, I was a Chief Engineer long before I went to
join Wexler's staff."
"Pleased
to meet you, Lieutenant Commander," Dupuis said awkwardly. "I'm Lieutenant
Dupuis. Actually, I'm newly promoted to Lieutenant so I'm still getting used to
it. I'm with the Intelligence Branch. I'm what they're calling a mission
specialist." He started to say more but stopped when he realized that this man,
swinging his feet around and sitting up, was the Vice Admiral's aide from the
briefing; the one with the translucent skin. He winced in pain as he sat up, and
continued to hold a hand up to his face, shielding his eyes from the light.
"I was
just catching a few moments rest before getting back to familiarizing myself
with this ship. It's been awhile since I served on one of these."
"This
is my first time even on board one," Dupuis replied. "So I apologize if I've
broken some unwritten rule about quarters or something. I fit in here about as
well as those freaks in the other pastie." He instantly regretted the use of
that word, intending to refer to the strange appearance of the perfectly
hairless marines.
Skarsgaard
chuckled. "I'm usually the one being referred to as a freak. And if you want to
get into a contest with me about who fits in worse here, you're going to lose."
"No, I
didn't mean that, I just." Dupuis was feeling more and more lost. "I'm just way
out of my element. I thought I might have broken some unspoken navy rule
barging in here."
"There
are no rules I know of except first come, first serve, and survival
of the meanest," said Skarsgaard. "Oh, and I care even less than you do
about quarters, so take your pick. I'll throw my kit in the other one if you
like."
"No,
no. You're already here. Stay put. I'll just go across to the other cabin."
Dupuis was about to leave
when Skarsgaard added. "There's a first time for everyone on board one of
these. I wouldn't worry about fitting in. I'm not just new crew; I'm a new
bridge officer. Bridge crew are a very tight knit lot. They get to be almost
like family. So breaking into one of those is no easy task. Especially when you
look like I do. We're all here to do a job, though. Just do your job right,
and you'll fit in fine.
"As for those marines, I doubt they fit in anywhere,
except their combat armour and their drug dispensing sleep pods."
Dupuis decided to brave a comment. "Your. the.skin
thing.doesn't bother me a bit."
Skarsgaard paused. It wasn't clear if he was taken
aback or pleasantly refreshed by Dupuis' candour. "I've learned that that is
indeed a rare thing. We may get along just fine, Lieutenant."
Dupuis nodded, and decided to save his questions about
the skin for another time. He left and started across the common room. He
dropped his bag inside his cabin and looked around. It was small, but nicely
appointed; a true marvel of efficient use of space. He removed his tunic and
kicked off his shoes to test out the bed. After a pause, he said much louder so
Skarsgaard could hear him in the other room. "Have you noticed how some parts
of this ship are too cold and others are too warm? At least the cabins are
nicely regulated. I don't know about you, but I find this ship cramped, noisy,
freezing, and altogether too fragile to be taking into combat. How.how safe or
reliable are these corvettes anyway?"
Skarsgaard
came out to the common room, and leaned on the doorframe to Dupuis'
newly-claimed cabin. "Put your shoes on, Dupuis. I'm going to show you
something about these corvettes that'll make you feel a whole lot better."
Dupuis
emerged from his room a moment later, a little tentatively, but shod. "Call me
Yves." He shrugged his tunic back on. "What are you going to show me?"
"Follow
me, Yves," said Skarsgaard, as he strode out of their quarters back into the
main corridor, and turned to the right. Dupuis hurried after him, shadowing him
closely as he approached the hatch at the end of the main passage, leading to
the control stations and the cockpit.
Skarsgaard
keyed them through the double doors leading into the ENG suite, where four
workstations were. Two of the workstations were occupied. The engineering crew
sitting there were so engrossed in their activities; they never even looked up
to see who was coming or going. They continued to the far end of the ENG suite
and entered the cockpit. Beyond the command and control stations was a large set
of windows looking out onto the port weapons pylon.
Skarsgaard
worked his way a little closer to the window, and looked back at Dupuis, who
stood there, staring out at the view with an expression of awe on his face.
"It's a little different when you actually see the equipment, isn't it?" said
Skarsgaard. He crossed his arms and stepped back to let Dupuis move up and take
in the full view.
"That's
incredible," replied Dupuis.
Looking
down a little, he could see a few of the large square cover plates for the
collider ring coils almost edge on. Beyond those plates, he could see part of
the curved surface of the aft-facing Particle Beam Cannon. Its particle coil
housing and tracking gimbals were huge. A little to the aft was the focusing
and firing assembly of the PBC weapon itself, large radiator vanes could be
seen clearly on its upper surface.
"That,
my friend, is one of the many reasons you should feel very safe aboard a Naval
Corvette," Skarsgaard explained, gesturing at the PBC. "Anyone who wants to give
us trouble will have to reckon with the awesome destructive power that one of
those can mete out."
"I've
studied how they work, and I've heard lots about what they can do to a ship's
hull, but I've never actually seen one," admitted Dupuis.
"One
hit from one of those on an unshielded part of a ship, and you've got an
awfully big hole. Clean through, most of the time. And that's just for the
moments when the fighting gets up close and personal." Skarsgaard pointed at
the larger rectangular-shaped structure beyond the PBC. "Most of the real
fighting is won and lost by the damage done by missiles, and from a much safer
distance. That multi-ordinance missile magazine out there can carry a variety
of nasty machines, all designed to hit their targets very hard, and from as far
out as we can detect," he explained. They watched as the bright red navigation
lights flashed intermittently on the visible corners of the magazine's enormous
structure. Dupuis stared in silence at the scene for almost a full minute, leaning
in close to the transparent pane and peering to the sides to try to get a
better view of their vessel. There wasn't much more that could be seen from
here, though.
Skarsgaard could tell that the view of the aft-facing
PBC and the port missile magazine had achieved the desired effect. Dupuis was
now focused on something other than his own worries. "We'd better get back, and
secure our belongings for manoeuvres," he said to Dupuis. "We'll be undocking
in a couple of hours, and I'd better check in and get to my station before we
do."
"Sure," said Dupuis without taking his eyes off the
visible part of the PBC housing. "Thanks for the tour, Skarsgaard."
Skarsgaard nodded and gestured toward the door with a
raised arm, meaning Dupuis couldn't stay in here alone. Yves glanced at the
view one last time, before heading back to their windowless cabin suite.
To be continued . . .
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