Gallantry in Action

  (Book 1 of the Jonah Halberd Series)

  John J. Spearman

  Copyright © 2017 John J. Spearman

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781521894613

  DEDICATION

  For Alicia, who has made my life so great in every way.

  OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

  Halberd Series

  In Harm’s Way

  True Allegiance

  Surrender Demand

  Pike Series

  Pike’s Potential

  Pike’s Passage

  FitzDuncan Series

  FitzDuncan

  FitzDuncan’s Alchemy

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to acknowledge my readers. They are the whole reason to do this.

  1

  “Captain, we have detected hyperspace emergence approximately 8.7 light minutes aft and 37 degrees above the elliptical,” Petty Officer Sanchez, manning the sensors, barked.

  Captain Jonah Halberd turned to the ship’s second officer, Lieutenant Commander Alexandra Volkov, and ordered, “Sound general quarters.”

  Immediately, warning klaxons began blaring and red lights flashing.

  “Sensors, report,” the captain asked.

  “Computer has identified mass and emission profile as consistent with a Putin-class cruiser, sir. It’s accelerating on an intercept course.”

  “Mr. Volkov,” the captain inquired, “how long until he reaches missile range at present course and acceleration?”

  “Um, one moment, captain,” Volkov replied as she struggled to pull her ship suit over her uniform. Part of coming to general quarters was the necessity of everyone putting on ship suits with the hoods in place. The hoods on the suits would automatically extend a clear membrane to cover the face in the event of a hull breach and the exposure to the vacuum of space that would result. Equipped with a rebreather and heating element, the suits could keep the wearer alive for a time but were rated to last only 30 minutes.

  “Uh, I’ve got it now, sir. Approximately an hour and twenty-six minutes if he maintains current course and acceleration and we do not change our course.”

  “Comms,” the captain ordered, “open a channel on standard hailing frequencies.”

  “Channel open, captain,” the communications officer responded.

  The captain turned to the camera on his console. “Attention, unidentified vessel. You have entered an area claimed by the Commonwealth of His Majesty Edward XII. Please state your intention and activate your IFF beacon. If you fail to do this, we will consider you a hostile intruder and respond accordingly.”

  That finished, Captain Halberd glanced at the running timer on his console, started when general quarters had been sounded. It had just passed the four-minute mark. He looked at Lieutenant Commander Volkov expectantly.

  She noticed the captain’s attention, and a look of despair flickered on her face. She was well aware of how much time had passed, and yet all stations had not yet reported manned and ready. Until that happened, the klaxons and warning lights would continue.

  “Does there seem to be a problem, Mr. Volkov?” the captain asked calmly.

  “Sir, the ship reports manned and ready except for the dorsal rail guns and starboard tube six,” she responded.

  “Is there a problem?” the captain asked again calmly.

  “I don’t know, sir. They haven’t reported in,” she answered.

  “Why don’t you ask them?” the captain inquired.

  “Aye, aye, sir. Right away, sir.”

  “Starboard tube six, respond,” she barked on the comm.

  “Jeezus Volkov,” came a slurred voice, “don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s just another fuckin’ drill.”

  Volkov responded, more calmly than she felt, “Petty Officer Smyth, is starboard tube 6 at general quarters?”

  “Fuck general quarters,” came the obviously drunk response, “and fuck you too, you tight-ass bitch.”

  Two red spots grew on Lieutenant Commander Volkov’s cheeks, but she calmly keyed another button on the comm and stated, “Security, send two men to starboard tube six, take Petty Officer Smyth into custody and escort him to the brig. Confirm when this is done.”

  Keying another button on the comm, she asked, “Dorsal railguns, report.”

  Hearing no answer, she keyed the comm again. “Fire control, dorsal rail guns have not responded to general quarters. Determine their status.”

  She then cocked her head slightly, a nervous tic many people had when receiving messages via earbud. She looked to the captain. “Sir, security has PO Smyth in custody. I’m putting Gunner’s Mate DiPerna in charge of Starboard 6.”

  Without waiting for any reaction from the captain, she keyed the comm. “Gunner’s Mate DiPerna?”

  “Aye, aye, Lieutenant Commander Volkov,” he responded briskly.

  “DiPerna, you are in charge of Starboard Six until further notice. Carry on.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Again, she cocked her head slightly. Reporting to the captain, she relayed, “Dorsal railguns are down, captain. Engineering pulled the computer drive for maintenance. They estimate they can have them back up in 40 minutes.”

  With that, she pressed a button, and the flashing red lights and klaxons stopped. Wincing inwardly, she glanced to see if there was any reaction on the captain’s face. Seeing none, she asked, “Sensors—any change in bogey’s course or acceleration?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  “Comms, any response to our hail?”

  “Negative, sir. None expected for another 12 to 15 minutes.”

  Turning to the captain, she stated, “Sir, the ship reports manned and ready at general quarters with the exception of the dorsal rail guns, which are down for engineering maintenance. We have an unidentified bogey on an intercept course with an estimated one hour and seventeen minutes to missile range. Mass and emissions profile fit the description of a Putin-class cruiser. They have not yet responded to our hail.”

  “Very well, Mr. Volkov. Cancel the drill and have the men stand down from general quarters. I want all officers to meet in the wardroom at 14:00.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” she responded glumly. This drill had been a disaster, and she knew it. The seven others they had conducted since departing Southhampton Station less than two days earlier had not been any better. She tried reading the captain’s expression, but it did not show anger or frustration. She was both angry and frustrated with the poor response of the crew to these drills and knew she was not doing as good a job of masking it as the captain.

  Captain Halberd rose from the command chair and returned to his quarters. Once inside, he looked at his tablet, summarizing the results of the eight drills they had conducted over the last 48 hours. None of them had been acceptable. He found this aspect of taking over a new command to be the most strenuous but knew that hard work and high standards now would pay huge dividends in the future.

  He shook his head. It was only five days ago that he was sitting in an outer office at the Admiralty, waiting for the meeting to which he had been summoned early in the new year. He had arrived five minutes early, as he had been taught eleven years before at the naval academy. His appointment was for 15:00 local, and precisely on the hour, the yeoman turned to Jonah and told him, “Vice Admiral von Geisler will see you now.”

  Jonah nodded his thanks to the yeoman, opened the door, and strode inside. Stopping three paces in front of the desk, he came to attention and snapped a salute.

  “Commander Halberd reporting as ordered, sir,” he stated formally. The gray-haired man behind the desk returned the salute.

  “At ease,” he responded, standing up with arm outstretched in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Jonah,” he remarked.

  Shaking his hand, Jonah replied, “It’s good to see you again too, sir.”

  The admiral waved him over to the sitting area. “I’m sorry we could only give you three weeks’ leave, Jonah. God knows you deserve more of a break, but there is a war on,” he said, sitting down.

  Jonah replied noncommittally, “I understand, sir.”

  “Good,” the admiral smiled. “You had quite an exciting tour on the Essex last time out. Your report was one of the more interesting I’ve had the pleasure of reading recently.”

  “Thank you, sir. I had a good crew and my fair share of good fortune,” Jonah replied modestly.

  “Good captains make good crews and make their own luck to a certain extent, Jonah. Unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished, and your success has earned you an even bigger challenge.”

  “Sir?”

  “You won’t be returning to Essex, Jonah. She’ll be another ten weeks in the yard, fixing all the holes you put in her. We can’t afford to have good officers and crew sit idle that long, so you’ve all been reassigned.”

  Jonah felt his heart sink. He had been hoping to return to HMS Essex and her crew. They had developed into a great team, and he had loved being captain of the frigate. She was a yar ship, quick, nimble, responsive. Though he tried to remain impassive, Admiral von Geisler noticed his disappointment.

  Smiling ruefully, the admiral continued softly, “I remember my time commanding a frigate, too, Jonah. When I was given a new ship, I thought I would never be able to love a ship as much as I did the Hebrus. Fortunately,” he chuckled, “I was wrong. You’ll find you have a special place in your heart for al
l your commands. Perhaps this might help soften the blow.”

  The admiral handed over a small box of navy blue with gold trim. Jonah opened it and looked down at the two gold stars inside.

  “Congratulations, captain,” said the admiral.

  Stunned, Jonah had difficulty getting his mouth to work. “Thank you, sir,” he blurted out finally.

  “You’ve earned them, Jonah. Now, as I was saying, Captain Halberd, I hope you find a special place in your heart for all your commands. And it’s time you started to get to know your new ship.”

  At that moment, Jonah received notification of new files arriving on his comm unit. In a message from the Admiralty entitled HMS Cumberland, he was being sent encrypted files containing the ship specifications, high-level schematics, command codes, and personnel data. Though intensely curious, Jonah ignored his comm and turned his attention back to the admiral.

  The admiral nodded to the wall, which had shifted to a view screen mode. It now displayed a large picture of the ship at the Southhampton Orbital Station. Jonah looked at it, puzzled.

  “It’s not one of ours, sir,” he uttered doubtfully.

  “No, it’s not,” the admiral replied easily. “It’s German-built. It was only days away from being commissioned when the Rodinans captured the New Bremen system three years ago. We captured it from them nine months ago after the Battle at New Delhi. An old friend of yours, Commander Delhomme, managed to sneak a shot up her skirt and blow her EM drives. She was dead in the water and surrendered once the rest of the Rodinan fleet jumped out. Other than the blown drives, she didn’t have a scratch on her. Her captain was bloody upset, let me tell you.”

  Jonah chuckled. “Well, Pierre always did have a knack of upsetting people he didn’t like. How is he doing?”

  “Commander, er, Captain Delhomme is doing well,” the admiral answered. “Nearly as well as you, and like you, was given a well-deserved promotion and a larger command. He didn’t like leaving Iphigenia any more than you like leaving Essex. He’s now in Roosevelt, in Third Fleet under Admiral Lord Johannsen.”

  “Well, if he can do it—” Jonah offered.

  “That’s the spirit,” von Geisler responded. “Let me tell you a little more about the Cumberland. While it’s only a little bit larger than our County-class heavy cruiser, it has about fifteen percent greater mass. This is due to a thicker layer of the new AT-38 alloy armor which is both reflective and ablative. Its EM drives are larger than our standard County class and more than compensate for the larger mass. Its acceleration curve is better than any other heavy cruiser in the fleet.”

  “That sounds good, sir, but I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Jonah said.

  “Well, it does seem a little less maneuverable, according to what the trials showed,” the admiral admitted. “That’s due to the extra mass. It has two more missile tubes directly forward than a County and the same number of broadside tubes. It has the same number of photon cannons in roughly the same locations, and point defense is similar, with one exception.”

  “Am I going to like this exception?” Jonah asked.

  “Well, the boffins at Advanced Warfare think so,” the admiral grinned. “The Germans included rail guns in the design, something we haven’t done for nearly 100 years.”

  “The development of effective shielding made rail guns obsolete,” Jonah chimed in. “I don’t see how they’ll be much use.”

  “Yes, for ship-to-ship combat,” the admiral explained, “but nevertheless, the Germans put four twin-rail batteries in, two above and two below. The spods at AW learned that the Germans planned to tie them into the point defense network—something the Rodinans never figured out in the time they had her. AW developed flak cartridges for them based on the original German design. Imagine a barrel of ball-bearings, which explode on a signal from your point defense system.”

  Jonah immediately grasped the concept. “That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed. “And you could also use them to launch chaff cartridges.”

  “Chaff cartridges,” the admiral smiled, “are also part of their capability. Jonah, you’ve shown an ability to improvise and find unique solutions. It’s why I pushed for you to be given command of the Cumberland. I think you will show us some things she can do that no one has thought of yet.”

  “What about my crew, sir?”

  “Sorry to say that’s another of the ‘buts’,” the admiral admitted. “Your mates from Essex have been reassigned already, so you’ll be starting with a new crew, 75 of whom just came out of basic training. You have a mostly solid group of petty officers to help get them up to snuff. Your officers are a mixed lot, I’m afraid. Some with potential, but some who were available because they were no longer wanted on their previous ships. One or two of the petty officers also fall into this group.

  “One last piece of bad news,” the admiral continued. “You’re now assigned to Second Fleet. You’ll be reporting to Rear Admiral Rodriguez at Hercules Station for your duty assignment as part of her task force. I hate to lose you from Fifth Fleet but think you will enjoy working with Sonia Rodriguez. She’s sharp, and I’ve always enjoyed my interaction with her.”

  Pulling his mind back to the present, Jonah thought to himself that at least Petty Officer Smyth had shown his true colors quickly. He’d be busted down to Able Seaman and spend a few weeks in the brig unless Jonah found a way to get him off the ship at their next stop. They were due in at Hercules Station in another eleven days.

  Jonah considered the actions of Lieutenant Commander Volkov. While she had been rattled early on, she had recovered quickly and had dealt with Smyth decisively. He could read the disappointment on her face that the ship had not responded better while she was the officer of the deck. He much preferred disappointment to shoulder-shrugging complacency.

  One thing that was handicapping them was that they had sailed without a master chief petty officer. Apparently, their master chief would be waiting for them at Hercules Station, but BuPers had not released his or her name yet. From experience, Jonah knew the value of a good MCPO. He had been blessed on his last two commands with one he trusted completely, but Master Chief Bradshaw had been reassigned when they broke up the crew from Essex.

  He sighed and looked at his notes on the tablet. It had taken over nine minutes to secure general quarters. The navy standard was two minutes, but every ship he had been on, even as an ensign, had been able to come to general quarters in 90 seconds. The attitude displayed by Petty Officer Smyth was present in quite a bit of the crew and some of the officers. Pulling experienced crew from other ships was supposed to be a way of giving opportunities to promising personnel, but many captains used it as an easy way of getting rid of underperforming people. It was easier to “pass the trash” than to go through the navy’s formal process of progressive discipline.

  The Smyth incident had slowed the response, as did the railguns being offline. He knew he would have to dig into Smyth’s behavior and find out if his insubordination was general or he targeted Volkov specifically. Volkov had come through the ROTC conduit and had earned positive marks since but had served entirely in staff positions. This was her first line assignment, and it showed. There was a certain hesitancy to her interactions with her subordinates that came from her unfamiliarity.

  The railguns being offline was no surprise to him. Engineering had asked his permission to work on them, and he had agreed, even though he knew it would interfere with the drill he had planned. Parts of the ship being offline due to repairs and maintenance was a fact of life. It did not always happen at convenient times.

  A bigger problem was that the lieutenant in charge of the starboard missile tubes had not dealt with the problem on Tube 6 and their delay in reporting ready. It should not have been left to Volkov to deal with Smyth. In the same vein, engineering should have informed Volkov about the railguns instead of making her track down the information.

  Fortunately, Jonah suspected he knew the answer why those things happened, as well as other problems he had observed in earlier drills. With a new crew that didn’t know each other and a captain and officers who were also unknown, the easiest thing is to do nothing and let someone higher up make decisions. He also knew that it was no way to run a ship, and he intended to lead his officers to the same conclusion. By forcing responsibility down the chain of command, response time and efficiency improved in every situation.