Force G - The lost command

[El_Phil]

Well back for a second stab at this writing gig. With better spacing and maybe some more commas marvel at the tale of the legion of the lost: Force G

"Welcome to Force G. despite what you may have heard this is a real command not a backwater posting you can sleepwalk through." Rear Admiral Miller began every introductory speech the same way so the old hands took the chance to look over the crowd.

'Him, her and maybe him' Group Captain Johnson was trying to pick out his new pilots. A firm believer in first impressions he preferred to meet his pilots face to face before reading their files. It also gave him something to do during Miller's speech. He hadn't much liked it the first time and it didn't get better with repetition. Casting his eye over the crowd he was certain he could spot the pilots, the nervous looking fidgeting ones. But who was airforce and who were navy flyers, he was less sure. 'I’ll find out soon enough' he thought.

His opposite number from the Fleet Air Arm read up all the files before the personnel arrived, so he had no problem picking out his pilots. Captain Baxter was less than impressed with what he saw. Too many blank gazes and not enough attention being paid. 'Admiral Miller needs to work on his speech.' he thought to himself. Anti-piracy duty on the frontier may not be as high profile as a fleet carrier on the Sergetti front, but it didn't matter if a squid or a pirate hit your fighter. You were still just as dead. He made a note to himself to give his pilots a quick facts of life talk when Miller had finished.

The third senior officer present watched the two fighter officers 'Ying and Yang' she though, not for the first time. Johnson was so relaxed he could pass for asleep, while Baxter was searching the room and pacing around like a caged O'Neills Chimera. As the second most senior naval officer she had operational command of all capital and patrol ships in the force and technical command of the Fleet Air Arm units. However relationship between the fleet and its fighter arm were chilly at best, openly hostile at worst. The habit of some fleet commanders of using their fighters as mobile ablative armour for their capital ships didn't help. Attitudes like this, along with the financial reality of R&D costs, had turned the airforce and FAA from bitter enemies to close allies. Luckily the situation in Force G was so markedly different from elsewhere that institutional dislikes had to be put aside. 'As they should be.' Commodore Langford thought.

***

Admiral Miller finished his speech almost identically to the first time he ever gave it, only the acronym had changed. "Remember, we are all alone out here, 5th Fleet is based around Cestus and STAFORMEL have enough trouble of their own. There is no cavalry to rush to the rescue, the nearest friendly force is over two weeks travel away. Don't forget that. Dismissed!"

As the briefing broke up the three command officers started gathering up their recruits. Group Captain Johnson collected his group first. "Right lets get out of here and leave the Navy to sort out its problems." He announced as he started to walk towards the airforce section of the base.

The group of new officers followed Johnson, a few of them took a glance back at the big confused mass of personnel around Baxter and Langford.

"Welcome to sunny Loxford Base, headquarters of your new unit Force G." Johnson continued. "So do any of you have any questions?" Johnson liked to ask questions of subordinates, it told him a great deal about them, what they had learnt and who had the courage to ask a question. As usual no response, no one wanted to look ignorant in front of their new CO.

"Don't worry there are no stupid questions." he said to reassure them.

"Excuse me sir, what does 'STAFOM' mean?" A short pilot officer at the back asked. Johnson looked at the sea of nodding, questioning faces and sighed inwardly. The words of a former CO came back to him 'Of course there are no stupid questions. There are however stupid people.' Harsh, but with a certain grain of truth. Johnston was less cynical and more hopeful than his old boss, so he gave them the benefit of the doubt.

"It's actually STA-FOR-MEL" he carefully pronounced the phrase, hoping it would jog some memories. Nothing.

"Standing Force Melles." Blank faces stared back at him. 'What are they teaching at the training schools these days?' he asked himself. 'This could be a long day'

[El_Phil]

Some more, because I can. Muhahahah!

Stuck in the Middle

"Force G has three carriers, two escort and one strike. So the FAA contingent should be..." Captain Baxter also believed that questioning was a valuable tool to get to know new pilots. The difference was that Baxter just left gaps and waited to see who spoke up first.

"Nine squadrons?" One nervous pilot asked.

"Ten squadrons." A female officer at the back spoke up more confidently.

"Correct Lieutenant Caine." Baxter liked to show he knew someone's name before they'd told it to him. "Five squadrons for the striker carrier, two squadrons each for the escort carriers and one squadron in reserve. However, while we have the craft, we're short of pilots. Thus the operational strength is only four squadrons. Two fighter, one fighter-strike and one strike."

The pilot who had spoken up first interrupted. "No bomber squadron sir? Isn't that against normal operating procedure?"

Baxter stopped walking and turned to face the unfortunate pilot. "No Jenkins there is no bomber squadron. The largest pirate capital ships are converted bulk freighters. We felt that deploying multi tetraton yield weapons on such targets would be overkill." The group could almost see the sarcasm dripping from Baxter's voice. He continued. "If, however, your weeks of experience say we're wrong we will, of course, re-consider this decision."

Jenkins, who had been trying to will himself out of existence, replied in a barely audible voice "Understood sir."

Baxter merely nodded and walked off, carrying on his briefing as he went. "In contrast the airforce contingent is oversized, especially in light of the threat level and their mission. There was only one logical course of action." He left a gap, waiting to see who would fill it. He didn't have to wait long.

"Integrate the FAA and airforce contingents. But isn't that discouraged by the General Staff?" It was Lieutenant Caine again.

"Right on both counts Caine. Indeed operational integration is discouraged, if the two services start operating together on the same jobs it will make it harder to argue for the continued institutional separation. But circumstances and politics forced our hand. The Admiralty won't reinforce us to full operational level and the number of escort mission keeps on increasing." Given half a chance Baxter would slip into a full lecture. But, he reminded himself, now isn't the time or the place. "So airforce fighters operate along side us on escort missions. Its not ideal, but it's the only way to get the job done."

The group reached the FAAs section of the base and broke up as pilots met their new squadron leaders.


****


Commodore Langford's briefing was markedly different from her colleagues. For starters her audience wasn't entirely fresh from training school junior officers, although they were a few present. The bulk of the group was experienced officers transferring in for posting on Force G's capital ships. As such there was no lecturing or answering of basic question. Instead a review of the mission and strength of Force G.

"As the Admiral said our mission here is to protect convoys from pirate raids and guard the warp points into the system." Langford paused to punch up a map, which was projected onto the back of the room. "As you can see the Calder system is a nexus of four warp points. In this system we have our main dock, re-supply depot and this base. The security of this system is our main priority, even at the expense of convoy protection."

Across the room heads nodded. Convoys could be diverted or delayed. Reclaiming a lost system from the enemy was far harder.

"Of the four warp points two are key. One leads back towards the heart of our space, while the other leads to the border with Toran space. As the border system is littered with recon satellites sides we will get plenty of warning, certainly more than enough for 5th Fleet to get out here." Langford continued.

This revelation was greeted with more than a few sighs of relief. Force G was too small to stop an invasion force and while the Republic had a trade treaty with the Torans you never knew what might happen. The memory of the Jraenar snap declaration of war still lingered.

"Of the other two points one leads to the Rochce system and the other to the Deneb nebula. Before you ask, yes, that is the Deneb nebula and, no, we don't patrol there." The Deneb nebula was a famous ship graveyard, very few of the ships that went in ever came out. "The Roche system on the other hand is home to a large number of mining operations. As such it's the source of almost all the convoys that pass through our area of operation." With the mission and situation covered, if only in general terms, Langford moved on to the strength of the force.

"On the capital ship side we can field three carriers, five cruisers of various sizes and seven destroyer class ships. We also have twenty gunboat hulls, but only a dozen are actually operational. In addition the Fleet Air Arm and airforce can scrape together just under eight squadrons of fairly obsolete fighters and bombers. But to be fair to them their equipment is no more out of date than our ships."

A nervous chuckle went around the room. 'Cruisers of various sizes' probably meant 'Mostly light cruisers with an ancient heavy just for show.' and exactly how old were the ships out here?

Langford took in the expressions on their faces, the rest of the briefing could wait. It was time for some quick facts of life and then wrap this up. Once onboard a ship and involved in the routine their worries would soon dissipate. Hopefully. "Whilst all this may sound bad remember, our only enemies out here are pirates. Their equipment is far older and in worse condition. Yes life would be easier with brand spanking new ships, fresh from the shipyard, but we don't have them. What we do have is adequate equipment and a job to do. So report to your ships and get to it. Dismissed!"

[El_Phil]

As the magical combination of alcohol and a late night come together it is time for some more writing. With no spell check to hand I apologise for any mistakes, but it should be OK. Without further ado:

Dawn Patrol
Picture a typical escort carrier, the ORS Hawk for instance. She's about 200 metres long, bridge at the front, engines at the back and inbetween all the hangars, ammo stores and other normal parts of a carrier. She's currently cruising along at the centre of a convoy, flanked by an escorting light cruiser and surrounded by merchant vessels. Now look closer at the spine of Hawk, at the rapid launch bays in amongst the point defence turrets and sensor arrays. Focus on the bay nearest the engines, bay 12, and look closer at the fighter inside. Up close you can see what it is, an old Lynx F.3D, almost as old as it's pilot in fact. Now imagine bright alert lights and a howling scramble alarms inside that bay...


'This is it! Combat at last.' Lieutenant Elizabeth 'Liz' Caine had been waiting for some action, any action, for the entire trip and now here it was. She rushed through the pre-launch checks, lifted the switch cover and hit the red 'launch' button.

The Lynx shot out of it's bay, accelerated at several dozen gravities by the large electro-magnets that lined the launch tube. Inside the cockpit Liz grimaed as the launch bay lived up to it's nickname of a 'Llama Bay'. It was spitting her a long way, but it was also giving her a hell of a kick in the back. Then, suddenly, the fighter was out of the launch tube and the acceleration vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. As Liz regained control of the fighter she instinctively looked at the top left corner of her HUD. The orders section was flashing, 'Case Epsilon'.

Her mind was a blank, what did that code mean? Then suddenly it came to her: Gunboat attack, backed up by fighters. That meant the quick launch section was on close escort of the merchant vessels. There was something wrong though, but she couldn't place it. 'But now's not the time to be distracted.' she thought

The small fighter, barely 4m long, turned rapidly to port and the twin plasma drive engines were pushed to full power. Out on the stub winglets the Firestreak missiles were electronically armed and the chin mounted autocannon spun up to speed as the weapon systems were prepared for combat.

Inside the cockpit the problem that had been nagging Liz made itself clear. The warning reciever, that should have been warbling away in her ears, was silent. She checked the radar, it was empty of threats. Just as the icy realisation started to drop into her brain the onboard comms chirped at her.

"All ships this is a drill. Repeat this is a drill. Stand down, stand down. All rapid launch fighters return for de-brief." The fighter control officer on Hawk carried on but Lieutenant Caine wasn't listening. She was far to busy inventing new curses.

[narf poit chez BOOM]

Pretty good, so far.

[El_Phil]

Cheers narf. Good for the tattered remains of my ego and greatly appreciated.

So I've got the ideas, I'm on a roll, I'm drunk! More writing type stuff!

This Side Of Paradise

The bar on ORS Hawk never closed, there was always someone who needed a stiff drink, sometimes delivered in several glasses. This night it was Lieutenant Caine keeping the barman honest.

"What I want to know is, why are we here? I mean nothing ever happens. Ever." Despite her best efforts, Caine's speech was still clear.

"You just answered your own question." Lieutenant Commander Stone answered. "We're a deterrent force, nothing more. Assuming you're not going all meta-physical on us."

Despite Stone's grin, Caine was in no mood to be side tracked. "So if the pirates don't attack the monthly convoy..." She started.

"Two monthly convoys, one in and one out." Jenkins interrupted. After a bad start to this posting he was desperate to prove himself and fit in. It wasn't working.

"Whatever." Caine tried to focus a look of disgust on Jenkins, but only ended up seeing two of him. Giving the stare up as a bad job she carried on. "So if the pirates don't attack the two monthly convoys what do they do?"

"Go after the independent vessels and the stragglers." Stone replied "It's not compulsory to join a convoy you know. If you're a couple of weeks early for a convoy what are you going to do? Sit around waiting losing money or take a chance on sprinting through the system." He asked rhetorically.

Caine looked up in confusion. "What sort of person would risk pirate attack for a few more quid?"


****


Captain di Matteo was asking herself a very similar question. The delivery bonus on the cargo, whatever it was she hadn't asked, was immense and the risk had seemed worth it. Now she was less sure. Suddenly taking a beaten up old freighter, even an armed one, through the Calder system on it's own didn't seem such a good idea.

"The long ranged sensors are still clear?" She asked.

"All clear out to max range, Captain." Vance, her second in command, answered. 'Which isn't far.' He thought to himself.

"How long until we're through the zone?" di Matteo asked next. The zone was a different size for each ship, but was defined identically. The area where, if attacked, the pirates would reach you before help could.

"Twenty minutes." Vance replied.

'Not long now. We can make it through this.' di Matteo re-assured herself. 'Tidespring's a tough, fast ship. That's what scaring away the pirates.'

di Matteo was starting to relax and think that the ship would make it. She wouldn't be thinking that way if she could overhear a conversation going on a pirate ship barely five mega-klicks away.


****


"Cap'n we gotta target!" The first mate, Frain, yelled across the bridge.

Harvey Malbranque, captain of the pirate ship Night Star, looked over at his first mate. "What is she and how tough is she?"

"An old Tidespool, movin' fast. Cap'n either their redlining their ion drives or they got newer engines on that crate. That aside she looks pretty standard."

Malbranque thought to himself. The Tidespool's were old Fleet armed transport, they could put up a fight, particularly against his old Javelin corvette. And the actual window of attack was pretty thin, unless they managed a fairly quick knock out shot the Navy would be all over them. 'But it's been a quite few weeks, if I don't do something the crew will drift apart next time I dock.' He reasoned.

Malbranque made his decision "Mr Frain, set an intercept course, full speed."


****


Micheal Vance had been told that it was worse to live in dread of something than have it actually happen. It seemed logical and so he'd believed it. In one brief moment he realised how completely wrong he had been.

"Incoming vessel on an intercept course!" The sensor officer on the called out.

There could be any number of explanations, but everyone who heard that shout knew what it meant. Pirates. Vance froze up in shock and he wasn't alone. A voice started shouting out, breaking the spell.

"Get Loxford Base on the comms and ask for assistance. And transmit a general distress call while you're at it. Vance, how long, exactly, until they intercept us? Chief Brandt if you have anything in reserve, now's the time to pull rabbits from hats. Everyone else to battle stations." Captain di Matteo was firing out orders to everyone in sight. 'Keep busy and you'll have no time to panic.' She told herself.

Time would tell if panic wasn't, in fact, the correct reaction.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

To quote Turin Turambar,

You have a keen mind for fiction, young Padawan!

Great read!

[El_Phil]

Time for some more? I think so!

Call To Arms

"Incoming distress signal."

Those three words were enough to push the entire Loxford Base command complex into full alert. The communications officers triangulated and traced the signal, the sensor crews checked their networks for contacts and the liaison officers scrabbled to find their readiness lists.

"Who is it and how bad?" Commodore Langford was senior officer present.

"An independent merchant. They've got an unidentified contact on an intercept course." The non-com at the comms station replied.

"Confirmation?" Langford knew that emergencies weren't the time for long speeches. Keep it short and simple.

"Confirmed." Came the reply from the sensor crew. "Looks like a modified Tidespool being chased by a heavily modified Javelin."

'That could be a close fight, depending on the modifications.' Langford thought to herself. 'Probably come down to crew skill and tactics then. With a pirate crew verses merchants that makes it a massacre, unless we can get there.' Out loud she asked. "Time to intercept?"

"Assuming current speed and course interception will occur in 30 minutes." The chief of the sensor crew answered.

"How long till the QRF launch and intercept?"


****


The QRF, or Quick Reaction Force, is a feature of any organisation that has to escort convoys or patrol too much territory with too few ships. At it's most basic a QRF is a group of ships at their home base kept ready to depart.

A more advanced method is too keep a force patrolling out around the main trouble areas. This roving force can rapidly divert to any problem or emergency far faster than a docked QRF, as its engines are already started and its crew at their stations.

Sadly Force G lacked the ships for the second method and had to make do with the docked ships method.


****


"Captain Newton swears that he can get Turbulent launched within 3 minutes. Interception would be 35 minutes after that, assuming the speeds don't change." The QRF liaison officer replied. "Kingfisher and Hardy were on 15 minutes notice and haven't been alerted."

'38, more likely 40 minutes' Langford though to herself. 'Close, but they'll be too late. Even so Turbulent might be able to catch those pirates, if not save the merchants.'

"Order Turbulent to beat those times." She told the QRF officer. "And have Kingfisher and Hardy step up to 3 minutes notice."

Turning to the convoy liaison officer she asked "That convoy is over stuffed isn't it?"

The officer nodded, it was standard practice to over protect the monthly convoys to discourage pirates.

"So, if an escort was to peal off and intercept could it make it to the Tidespool i time?"

The officer had got the drift before Langford had finished speaking and was tapping away at her console. She looked up with a grin "If you diverted one of the frigates they'd make it in 28 minutes."

The whole mood in the centre, which had been falling through the floor, suddenly lifted. There was something they could do.

"Then what are we waiting for? Comms, signal the convoy and order one of their frigates to divert." Langford wasn't immune from the mood change. A ship that had been doomed now had a chance, and they might bag a pirate ship as well.

"Captain we're picking up a general distress signal. It's from the Tidespool." The call came up from the comms desk.

"Ohh f...."


****


The first mate of the Night Star hated giving his captain bad news. He tended to take it quite badly. And then take that out on whoever was nearby, normally the person who'd just given him the bad news. Still it was his job, and if the Cap'n found out he hadn't told him it would be worse.

"Cap'n, the prize has just sent a general distress signal." He announced, angry, if not surprised, at how much his voice was trembling.

"Damnation and NovaFire! That's just what I didn't want. Calling the navy, fine! But not that!" The cries of rage echoed off the walls of the bridge.

Captain Hayles was not a happy pirate.


****


"Loxford base contacted and distress signal sent Captain." The communication officer onboard Tidespring reported.

'OK that's all the bases covered.' Captain di Matteo thought to herself.

She had, in fact, covered too many bases.

A great yell, almost a scream, cut across the bridge. "Captain! Sensors are showing multiple hostile contacts swarming out of the asteroid belt, all on an intercept course!" The sensor officer was almost in hysterics.

The world suddenly started to swim around Captain di Matteo. Nothing seemed real. It couldn't be. No-one got attacked by swarms of pirates, it just didn't happen.


Then some long forgotten words of wisdom, dispensed by a dead former captain back when she was a young second officer, came back to her. 'When in pirate country never, ever, send a general distress call. It's like blood to sharks, but worse. Far, far worse.'

[narf poit chez BOOM]

CR check on Pirate swarm!

[El_Phil]

Page 3? I have been busy clearly.

The Devil's Alternative.

'Paths that end in trouble are all the same. They only appear different when you don't know here they lead." The Cheshire Cat


"Senior crews to The Cell." Langford called out and strode off to 'The Cell', a separate command room designed and equipped for any serious situation.

As she walked through the blast doors and down into the harsh red glow of the central pit her mind flashed back to the last time she'd been here. The 800 Squadron incident. 'This is nothing like that.' she told herself.

The room quickly filled with the technical cream of Loxford Base, all the best in their fields if not the highest in rank. In the main control complex the replacements took over and tried to ignore the entire Tidespool situation.

A loud crash marked Petty Officer Shearer's entry and, as always, Langford marvelled that anybody that clumsy could be so skilful at using the ultra delicate sensor networks. 'That should be the last of them.' Langford ran a quick mental checklist 'Comms, Sensor, Intelligence, QRF, Convoy Liaison...' Close enough.

"Comms, get Tidespool on the link. Get their course changed to the best intercept. QRF, I want Kingfisher and Hardy out and gone in five minutes. Sensors, how many pirates, what size ship, everything. You know the drill, liaise with Intelligence and give me a best guess what we're facing." Langford, who had been barking orders like a rotary rail gun, suddenly stopped and called over the convoy liaison officer.

"How close is that convoy to safety?" She asked.

"Still a couple of days from the warp point. You're not suggesting..." Lieutenant Commander Draxton asked.

"Yes I am. One frigate and an armed merchantman wouldn't have a prayer against that lot." She waved her arm at the 3D tactical display glowing red with unclassified contacts. "But if we pull Broadsword off.. Well a cruiser, even a light raider like a Battleaxe class, could tip the balance. The convoy will still have a carrier and the rest of the escorts for protection."

"But regulations..." Draxton started.

"This isn't a discussion, this is an order. In any case, as you and I both know, it’s the only option." Langford stated flatly and turned away.


****


Onboard Turbulent Captain Hayles was professional and terrified in equal measures. Getting a ship ready to leave ahead of QRF time was a challenge and required speedy but thought out actions. However this wasn't a generic ship, this was ORS Turbulent a ship with a past to match her name


****


Turbulent had been first laid down in space dock as a test bed for the Devonshire class of heavy cruisers, specifically the hull building methods and reactor systems. There were several problems with the hull building, but these were solved, more serious the reactor didn't work, or more accurately, worked too well. Turbulent was massively overpowered for her onboard wiring and power distribution systems. Despite this there was a most undignified scrap for this impressive ship. The Admiralty was almost beside itself trying to solve the problem.

At this stage Rear Admiral Flynn of Trials Command had stepped in and announced that there was no problem, Trials Command hadn't finished with Turbulent. Over the following years she was used to test dozens of experimental systems, from gravimetric sensors to improved life support.

Her primary use ,however, was as a weapons test bed. Her turrets were ripped off and rearranged so regularly the gunnery crews got lost looking for their stations. During her final years at Trials Command the engineering crews stopped uninstalling the old systems when the testing cycle was over, as a result the rat’s nest of under strength power cabling got worse and worse. Finally Flynn realised that his engineers and scientists were spending more time getting systems fitted to Turbulent than testing them and released her to the fleet pool.

By this stage the Devonshire class had entered the fleet in large numbers and nobody wanted a high maintenance and probably problem filled ship. Yet she was too expensive to scrap and too large and powerful to waste on system patrol. The solution, as for so many of the Admiralty's problems, was to dump the ship on Force G.


****


Captain Hayes knew his ship's past, or as much of it as had been de-classified to his clearance, but hadn't been able to turn down the captaincy of a heavy cruiser. After all, he'd reasoned, it couldn't be that bad or fleet would have scrapped her.

As he checked the status display showing half his rail guns offline and engines at 80% he thought perhaps things were that bad. A light flashed green as the Tri-Cobalt torpedoes tubes confirmed as loaded. 'Oh no, I was wrong.' he thought to himself savagely. 'The torpedoes that no other ship in the fleet uses, because the detonators are unreliable, are ready.'