The Dutiful Captain
They called him Captain, even though he was a formally a commander by rank and a lieutenant commander for far longer prior to the crossing to this system. An old lieutenant commander, long in grade and with few prospects of advancement, as even for the extent of the Helm Fleet as the martial arm of the Stellarch there were always far more knights and highborn than command postings. Always a harsh competition for every slot and tasking, every chance there was to gain glory and recognition. A competition he failed, not out of personal failings but of lack of exceptionalism, and for that his record was stamped "retained and refitted for rank" time and time again in the limbo of military service. But he served nonetheless, in the littoral patrol craft and reserve-rate destroyers on customs and patrol duties, the silent patrols spent protecting the commerce and transit lanes. Even at a distant star, that didn't change for good or ill, even if it brought him the rank pips he once hounded after for so long, yet found himself having little of that old flame of ambition left in him.
With practiced calm, he donned his uniform and uttered his regular quick prayer to the ancestors in the mirror, and stepped out of his quarters a different man than the one who woke up looking in the mirror questioning the course of his life that led him to this point. Not that the self-doubts and reflection left him, but the impassive face of the captaincy was no different than the clothes he wore as a statement of his duty. And duty was all he had left to him now.
"Good morning captain." Lieutenant Carson greeted him as he stepped onto the bridge with a salute. "No incidents on ship during dogwatch. We are currently at waypoint four of our orbital patrol over New Helm. Our prior contact with the cargo hauler from Andernia II is on schedule, Picket three is preparing to do standard customs sweep with them. Picket four reports incoming cargo shuttle, stated inbound from Andernia I but had not previously relayed a flight plan. I was about to contact you about the unknown, we just picked it up after our sensor diagnostics were completed."
"Contact time between intercepts?" The Captain asked, already ambling towards the holodisplay depicting the points of light representing the motion of the interplanetary traffic. It was not to scale, for such would render all points impossibly tiny to register, but his practiced mind could intuit well enough the differences between reported numbers and the positioning on the display in the time it took for the lieutenant to glance at a sensor watchstander and repeat the question.
"Estimated contact for both is in one hour, twenty-minute offset depending on braking variances." The captain nodded, that was within his estimation. That Lieutenant Carson didn't immediately have that knowledge on hand was also mentally noted, sorted, and filed in the list of mental points about this junior officer. A moment's delay now, but it put a note on the conduct and manner of his command, possibly for later adjustment. But as it had only been a moment and with an hour to go before contacts, it was a trifling matter.
"Very good. Status on other pickets?" He didn't expect much, just being dots of light hovering in equal spacing around the planet to maintain an active sensor perimeter. That there were only five was problematic, as with two already on specific tasking there was a gap in the net, thin as it was, and the other three pickets were spread far apart. Some part of him hoped the princess would recognize the problems this presented, yet just as quickly he squashed such speculation. It was a minor miracle that this destroyer was built so quickly after settlement as it was, sister ships and a proper orbital watch would arrive when they could. For now his duty was to work with the ships he had, and simply wrangling all the raw cadets and spacers he had onboard was work enough to bring them to the standards he expected of them.
"No other contacts to report sir. No operational shakedown or endurance issues among them besides picket one running low on coffee early."
The captain nodded, also factoring that in. Carson may have meant it as a degree of levity on an otherwise dry report of the first night-shift of the Wisteria in a training shakedown, but it fit in with other small commentary across the patrols on the limits of escort frigate endurance in practice. The hundred and one little ways that even a small ship had limits and consumption of limited supplies, which for now could only be offset by the periodic shuttle run to orbit and that was subject to hard limits of payload and cargo transfer equipment. A ship would not flounder for lack of coffee, but it's captain and crew would be that bit more sluggish, be less able to retain their edge for the monotonous duration of a orbital patrol, and deprived of the social benefits of conversation among the coffee machines in the messhall. A small detail that fed into many details that fed into larger potential problems that warranted some level of response now that Carson brought it up. As much as it was made in jest, he decided seriousness would be an apt punchline.
"Thank you mister Carson, better pass on to Picket One that we will hand off some of our surplus instant as we reach them on our loop, then you are relieved by able-watch. I have the deck and the conn."
"Captain has the deck and the conn." Carson crisply replied and ducked over to the comms officer to relay.
The energy of the act even at the end of his duty watch made the Captain acutely aware of how young he was. How young all of the bridge crew were as the watch change played out. He was a visibly old man among boys and girls, even accounting for the trend of life extension and aesthetic biosculpt becoming so commonplace. Some of whom were officers during the passage that were slated to have their own ships under the original system defense plan, bright sparks with high hopes and eagerness to serve, especially for a ruler who clearly had her thumb on the wishes and well-being of her people. Why oh why did the princess decide he was the most fit for her first warship instead? Simple seniority was not everything, he knew full well the games of patronage and favor trading that happened on the assignment boards and he had no tools nor will to play at that table. And under such desperate circumstances as present, of the imminent possibility of infighting within the House, the selection would come to the Solar Princess herself as a critical linchpin of her operations. A woman he never met face to face besides public gatherings and ceremonies, his own appointment delivered with impartial mail instead of a courier or personal audience as if it were another bureaucratic shuffle. As it was, he counted himself fortunate that his unglamorous assignment was so readily accepted by the other potential officers for command, patiently waiting for ships of their own instead of contesting command of what was his now. Or for him to lapse in his own duty.
"Captain, odd activity on bogey seven. Thats the one Picket-four is dealing with." Called out the sensor watchstander, who was sticking to his station despite his relief being on his shoulder, face furiously focused on the console and his elevated voice snapping the captain out of the unwanted self-reflection. "Sir, it just started pivoting hard and burning."
"Ground control reports large databurst transmission from unlicensed transmitters." Communications reported, the able-watch girl already at station despite the dogwatch ensign hastily stepping back in case. "Police units are investigating the origin point but signals intercept failed due to encryption. They're asking us to intercept if possible."
"Helm, bring us up to full thrust, general heading 122-plus-72. Then workup intercept vector and immediate execute." The captain ordered. Not precise, but building up initial acceleration now mattered more than precise steering. "Comm, can Picket Four intercept?"
"They're trying sir, but they were braking hard to do their customs inspection stop. That shuttle's putting on more thrust….not a sure thing if they don't put a hole in the engines. They are requesting permission to fire?"
Six words that held a multitude of meanings and consequences. At face approximation, he was dealing with a data-smuggler, something that couldn't be trusted over open long-range interplanetary comms, yet deemed urgent enough to risk a ground-to-orbit encrypted transmission. That meant the shuttle had to be taken intact to secure its computers. But a frigate didn't have precision gunnery, it was meant to dogfight with others of its class and perform basic patrols. An overtaking intercept might have been possible if they reacted quickly, but as he saw on the screen they had yet to cancel their turnover, still waiting on reply for his authorization to fire and were rotating to bring their turret to bear optimally instead of their engines. If a shot were to be taken, it had to be now, and yet if it went astray than the data would be lost and chance of getting answers similarly diminished. Then another factor: the shuttle having the capacity to rival a frigate's acceleration in the first place, even for a limited time, that was unusual and not standard for colony shuttles. Likewise the capacity to receive a high-density encrypted transmission to begin with. If it could do that, then what were its other capabilities? A frigate could barely muster a four-man inspection crew, what if there were even a single armored knight onboard that shuttle? Coupled with the wider political picture, this was becoming a very tangled web to thread a course through.
He made his decision within thirty seconds as the holodisplay depicted helmsman's intercept query to the ship's nav-computer yielding a line that intercept was possible at all with the destroyer's position and state of acceleration.
"Helm. Intercept, bring us up to maximum power. Comm, tell picket four to return to station at best speed, we have the hunt." The Captain intoned, striding over to his captain's chair and strapping in. "DC, tell engineering we're going to need a reactor yellow-line flank burn on standby. Bosun, sound Condition Two."
"Reactor warming up and ready in five minutes sir." Called out the damage control watchstander, relaying the likely excitement of the engineering crew below. For once their over-enthusiasm for their work was in his favor, for all the disciplinary issues he had to wrangle and the constant hunt for their latest attempt to make an alcohol still onboard, they knew their work and were perhaps the most experienced personnel onboard besides himself. When they said five minutes, they meant it and kept to it when the time for overtaking burn was in play.
"Skipper? Whats going on?" Said a new voice on the deck, lieutenant commander Grayson as she rushed across the deck to her XO station. Late, behind the rest of the Able-watch as they were all in their stations now. The captain mentally noted that and the absence of her helmet going into combat. With acceleration underway, he elevated his voice instead of turning to speak, keeping his eyes on the display and his target.
"Commander Grayson, we have probable smuggler contact and are moving to intercept. See to it that the ship's company is all at Condition Two, then prepare a boarding party for a assault entry. I have deck and the conn."
"A-aye sir!" The Captain noted the stomp of deckplates as his only register the orders were being given, Grayson didn't shout or call out, lest she override some command of his in the moment. Which gave him another period of indeterminate time of hurry-up-and-wait endemic to spaceflight to be trapped with his thoughts once again.
If he had a missile launcher, he could have threatened the shuttle with a launch and loitering munition. A properly calculated proximity blast could even disable without destroying. As it is, an overtaking burn to bring PDC's to bear will have to do, but will require a parallel course. Why oh why did the princess decide he was the most fit for her first warship? This situation could be avoided if a proper traffic control was established on the other planets. Advise establishment of longer-ranged patrols? There is also factor of unknowns of this supposed shuttle, its engines were high performance. But could there be other oddities?
The jumble of internal thoughts was summarily shelved when he spotted the sensor station making another sweep of the target, replacing the dot of light on the holotank with a more detailed image. In particular the atypical pods on the wings of the spaceplane-type shuttle, both of them now falling off. "Sensors, analysis of those pods?"
"Drop tanks sir. Typical setup for extended-range shuttles, likely expended in the hard burn. Wait, a third pod dropped off the top, that's not standard- Chaff! Chaff! Chaff!"
The holodisplay fuzzed as the shuttle's signature abruptly cut off with its drives right as a chaff cloud erupted from behind it. The Captain wasn't surprised, it was a standard smuggler's trick. If it were a larger ship he'd have been concerned with a deadfall missile from the rear to disrupt his engines and distract sensors occurring in the same period as well, but that was both not the case and his ship had after-aspect PDC's even if it were so, as had been drilled into the gunnery crews during the workup drills. So instead his mind was now consumed with the question of what the smuggler would do next. Engines off, the shuttle would coast on momentum, but that left it in a very disadvantageous position to an active destroyer. Chemical RCS would not emit visible drive emissions, but would be good for one burst at most unless the shuttle was counting on its safe port having some rescue service (unlikely), So it would have to make up its mind on how to spend that burst of course correction. But where?
To other planets? Perhaps. Its official identity was from the first planet. But they couldn't have made these modifications.
To third? He didn't care for the idea, but cold calculation of captaincy made him consider it. This shuttle was clearly non-standard, it required non-standard maintenance to achieve it, it needed to source that chaff pod from somewhere. For all his heart trembled at the idea of two highborn kin having a feud, the captaincy told him this was the logical course. And so it was. He only needed 45 seconds to come to that conclusion, but translating that into action was…non-intuitive.
"Helm, angle burn thirty degrees port, appear as if we are assuming the target will burn to the first planet." The captain ordered coolly after coming to a decision. Slow, but necessary. And served well to present the image of a hesitant commander to the fleeing smuggler.
"Aye sir. Setting course…..assuming sir?"
"Assuming. Stand by for rapid turn and burn maneuvers on main drive. XO, alert all decks to be ready for a sudden lateral acceleration shift. Have engineering have a hand over the button on first-level safety interlocks for a hard flip and burn." Calculations, calculations, he pondered, he waited, he heard the respective stations chiming in with anticipation of orders, he waited…he waited.
"Sir, possible low-energy drive emission bearing-"
"Helm, flip and burn for intercept on that signature, full flank speed! Engineering, initiate yellowline protocol. All hands, prepare for flip and burn!" It had been a trivial maneuver, faking going after a wrong hunting path to flush out the hunted then committing to a hard overtake when they locked in their course, which had been done so far too soon. If they had waited even ten minutes more the distance and change in burn would have made intercept much harder. These smugglers couldn't be experienced in their trade, antsy and skittish to think actively running was the best way to evade a destroyer on the hunt. He had met far better smugglers and pirates than them, this was simple routine.
Once again, the moment of pursuit was an anticlimax, a moment of waiting while distances were closed and time was permitted to pass as the smugglers neither surrendered or attempted anything besides continuous thrust. A moment of excitement when the gunners elected for a manual/optic aim to avoid spooking the shuttle into a jinking maneuver, scoring hits on a wing-mounted engine of the shuttle to send it into a tailspin until the other engine was shut down. Another burn to counter momentum and bring the shuttle into grappling range. Then the boarding shuttle was dispatched from the bow hangar, with armored knights with their blood up only meeting surrendering spacers without any fight. All the same, the entire shuttle was shutdown and taken onboard without attempt to analyze information on-site, lest the data be tampered with by inexperienced hands.
Excitement and heroics were indicative of immense failures of command in the captain's eyes. To be able to treat this chase and capture as a matter of routine was indicative of the readiness and ability of his command even if he were not present to direct it himself. All the same, there were cheers in the bridge crew he did not quell even if he didn't partake, as the Wisteria scored its first successful boarding action. With any luck, the data-smugglers would provide answers as to their operation, or at minimum serve as symbols of the Solar Princess' Justice. Regardless, he now felt a measure better about his crew and their capacity to perform in action, ready enough to undertake more of the drills and plans he knew would be needed for the days to come for peer-level combat or worse.
A more charismatic captain would have had something inspiring to say. A more self-centered individual might use it as a chance to make some bold declaration about victory to the Solar Princess directly. But for him, he simply stepped over to the comm officer and said "Signal Command, inform them we have taken the smugglers into custody and captured their shuttle, have security units ready to receive them once we return to orbit and can offload. Helm, return us to the original station for our orbit. Sensors, resume general sweeps, lets make sure this wasn't a stunt for us to let some other smuggler make planetfall while we weren't looking. Commander Grayson, you have deck and the conn while I make a report back to command."
There was only duty.
= = = = = = =
REPORT TO COMMAND
Spotted smuggler shuttle receiving unauthorized high-encryption transmission from Andernia IV. Intercepted same.
Six (6) smugglers and a modified aerospace shuttle turned over to civil security. Resuming orbital patrol and training shakedown.
Fīat iūstitia ruat cælum
Captain Adrian Hunt, HMS Wisteria- commanding, Primrose Knight of Helm
"On one hand, damnit can my sister even run a competent spy network? On the other, hooray for a commander who doesn't need micromanaging to remember he's just a orbital watchdog. He's a keeper."
"Indeed. I'm told he's already training the crew up to a acceptable standard of someone who participated in the Kasador anti-piracy fleet action, as seen in the readiness of his engineering section for such maneuvers barely days into their training cruise."
"Yeah thats normal drill for ship crews, right? Right?"
= = = = ==
OOC: Who would our spotlight-averse schemer of a princess pick for her first command? The oldest, slowest, and least-enthusiastic captain she's got on the roster so she doesn't threaten her sister with her early warship deployment.
Forgetting the old lesson "beware the old man in a profession where most die young" when it comes to destroyers and a methodical manner to all aspects of his duty.
