39 Hours Later. 02:00 Martian Slipstream Transit Point

Three corvettes sped through the void toward the traffic lanes between Mars and her designated slipstream transit location. It was a point two million kilometers from the Martian L2 Lagrange point. The corvettes then split and headed toward different ships.

The Memphis headed toward a pair of mining vessels. The Las Palmas and Winnipeg were heading toward freighters. The respective ships closed in, scanned the vessels, and either moved or flag them for inspection. When all nearby ships had been scanned they came back together and flew in formation.

All sorts of drills had been run to get three crews of cadets to work with one another. There was still a long list of items the crews had to go through before their wolfpack training had been completed. John was reviewing the list and was trying to determine the most efficient way of completing all of the items.

“That’s one more item completed sir,” Rich said.

“That it is, please send a message to our sister ships. I’m working on the remaining list of drills each shift has to run.”

“Will do sir, any change in course?”

John paused on his list and looked at the tactical map, “That’s a negative, keep us pointed in the same direction.”

John spent about five minutes working on the first shift’s list of drills to run over the next five days. The other two shifts were included in his final message to the sister ships but the commanders during those shifts could choose to run different drills if they wanted to.

“Rich, please send out that list for me,”

“Will do,” Rich said as he keyed in some things at his terminal to send the message to the other ships, “Sir, mind if I ask you a question.”

“Hit me,” John said as he leaned back in his chair.

Rich rotated his chair to face John, “About the whole Folly of Icarus attack, you said they act primarily because of money or honor. Do you think it’s honorable to attack someone in slip space?”

“Honestly attacking someone in the void or slip space is basically the same. At the end of the day, one ship is trying to kill another. The reason we have a ban on attacks within slip space is that our weapons seem to react harshly in that environment.”

“But ignoring the reasons why, is it ethical to fight someone in slip space?”

John shrugged, “I’d say it’s not any more or less ethical to fight someone. The general public would argue that it’s less since people aren’t expecting to be attacked while transitting in slip space.”

“Then it’s an act of cowardice?”

“There’s an argument to be made for that. I could also argue that attacking there is very opportunist in nature,” John paused and looked at the petty officer, “What gives?”

“You seem to respect the pirate’s nature. That doesn’t make sense to me.”

John chuckled quietly, “I always respect my opponents. I may talk a big game but I always prepare for counters to whatever action I take. I’m not at all for pirates, but I think to paint them as one-dimensional villains are unfair to them and damaging to us. You can’t properly prepare for an enemy that you don’t understand, much less fight them effectively.”

Rich stopped and was processing the statement, “If we know how our opponent works then we can use that against them.”

“Correct. One mistake out here and we’re dead. This shouldn’t come as a big shocker to you, but I’d prefer to not die yet. While we’re out here we may as well use every bit of leverage, knowledge, and tactics to make sure we end up on top. Let our opponents make the mistakes and let us capitalize on them.”

“Understood. Dunno why I thought you may like pirates, sir.”

“Oh, I’ve interacted with a fair few in my time. Most are relatively simple beings who focus on a scarce few things. The smart ones are wickedly smart, and are as likely to kill you in cold blood as they are to share a drink with you.”

Rich spun his chair back to face his terminal, “Message from the Las Palmas.”

“Put it through.”

“John, we’re detecting a distress signal. The Winnipeg wasn’t picking it up though,” Joeng said.

“Rich, anything?”

“That’s a negative sir.”

John looked puzzled, “Rich, tie into the Las Palmas’ systems, then triangulate that source.”

“What do you think this means John?”

“Well, irrespective of what Rich and the Winnipeg find, I’m going to suggest you reboot your transceiver and enter a different master key to it. Sounds like someone is spoofing your systems so that they could ambush you. They may not have known we were supposed to be with you or counted on you being dumb enough to not ask for verification of things.”

Joeng looked annoyed, “Wonderful. How would this have happened?”

John shook his head, “None of the ways I’d know how to do this are pleasant to think about.”

“Sir, I got nothing on our end. Winnipeg confirms the same.”

“Joeng, fire off a probe in that direction. Where’s the nearest naval asset to us?”

“That would be the cruiser CNS Topeka. She’s got a pair of escorts with her,” Rich said.

“Joeng, contact the task force and request assistance. Our wolfpack stands ready to assist them should they want it.”

“Will do. The probe is away. I will update you with what the Topeka wants to do.”

The communication screen went black. The tactical overlay expanded to take up the whole screen. John stood up and looked at the map. He began typing into the terminal in the center of the room. The task force's ships were highlighted.

“They are two hours from the signal. We’re thirty minutes,” John said to himself, “That’s got to be a spoofed message.”

“When it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” Rich began saying.

“Then it’s a god damned duck,” John finished the sentence, “Better questions are who’s spoofing a distress signal and why.”

“Pirates, they would figure a lone corvette would be easy pickings for them. Seems ballsy to attack the Navy in Sol though.”

John turned around and walked back to his seat. He stared at the map after he sat down. Dozens of different plans began forming in his mind. What benefit was there for pirates to spoof a distress signal. There wasn’t unless they could guarantee a win. But if they had the firepower to overwhelm a corvette, then the remains of the corvette would be of little value to them.

“It’s not pirates,” John said quietly.

“Did you say something, sir?” Rich asked.

“I don’t think it’s pirate-related.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“It’s only conjecture, but if I could get my hands on an unencrypted computer core from my enemy that would be an intelligence boon in a pre-emptive attack.”

“Think the Alliance would attack us?”

“Wouldn’t put it past them. We know they’re pissed about the trade situation between us. We’ve lowered imports from them and lowered the amount of food we’re exporting to them.”

“What about the others?”

“There’s a faction in the Mercantilsit union that would love to capture me. But the union itself doesn’t have the manpower to fight a war against us or the alliance.”

“What about the Union of Xenu?”

“They are a bunch of religious whackjobs. I’d trust them to fuck up naval operations to their detriment and sign terrible trade deals. They are smart enough to not try to spout their beliefs beyond their borders,” John said shaking his head, “Any other religion is fine. But they are a special kind of stupid.”

“Joeng just sent us a message. The Topeka has given us orders to depart this region with haste.”

“Understood, that means we’re heading out to the belt. Let the Winnipeg and Las Palmas know of our course correction. All ahead flank.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

07:00 Conference Room

Andern, John, and Kori were in the room. John was standing at the after terminal having a conversation with Kristin and Joeng. Andern was trying to look like he was annoyed at being disturbed by the conversation. Kori, while moderately annoyed at the captain’s conversation was being diligent in her work.

“Stop being like that and study already,” Kori whispered.

“This is a damned study room, not conference room,” Andern whispered back.

Kori turned her chair a bit to the left and pointed to the ‘Conference Room 2’ sign, “Really?”

Andern shrugged and pressed the play button on his lecture. Kori rolled her eyes and got back to her work. Within a couple of minutes, Andern was daydreaming once more. Meanwhile, the captains continued to chat.

“The Topeka found something, but they are being tight-lipped on what that was,” John said leaning back in his chair.

“Just to confirm this, we are sure it was an enemy that has learned to spoof a distress signal to target a specific ship?” Kristin asked.

John nodded, “I don’t want the three of us to leave one another for the time being. This is sketchy as fuck.”

“Might I also recommend that we link our emergency detection systems together?” Joeng said, “That way all of us will know immediately if this happens again.”

“That’s a great idea Joeng,” Kristin was nodding on the screen, “What about cycling through transponder frequencies.”

“I was going to suggest an hourly change. Doing both of those would likely circumvent the hostile’s plan,” John paused with a thoughtful look upon his face, “Presuming they were targeting us.”

Joeng raised an eyebrow, “You think they were targeting us specifically.”

“Your crew specifically? That’s doubtful. Our class ship though, that’s highly likely.”

“If they were a destroyer or frigate it’d be an easy fight against us,” Kristin looked and sounded worried.

“The calculation looks less lopsided when it's three versus one. Talk to your crews. Let’s be smart and careful.”

The other captains nodded then ended their communication. John sighed deeply and walked out of the room. He headed to the bridge to talk to Laura about the transponder change and let Wei know to synch their emergency detection systems with their sister ships. Twenty minutes later John walked back to the conference room and sat down at the empty terminal. A Modern Command Delegation lecture began playing.

“John, I gotta ask something that’s been bugging me since last year,” Andern asked as he paused his lecture.

“What’s up?”

“It’s somewhat relevant to my Naval History class. In World War 2 the smallest warships in the American fleet had been frigates. And yes, they had corvettes and patrol boats, but I’m talking mainline ships.”

“That’s a correct understanding of historical American naval ships.”

“So why are destroyers the smallest now?”

John started to laugh. Andern was very confused by John’s reaction. Kori stopped working on her homework and joined the conversation.

“I’m not going to lie, that bugged me a little bit too.”

“Y’all seriously don’t know?”

Kori and Andern looked at one another and responded in unison, “No.”

“Oh, man. It’s actually kind of funny what a person with more power than they ought to have can do.”

“You're not answering the question dickhead,” Andern said.

“So after the Martian rebellion, the U.S. Senate convened a hearing. The senator in question was questioning a Naval officer and insisted that one of the ships that had been involved was a destroyer when it, in fact, was a frigate.”

“That still doesn’t explain it,” Kori didn’t sound impressed.

“That senator became president two months later. Then in an executive order reclassified the ship designations. That was challenged in the courts, but an obscure law on the book since the revolutionary war allowed the president to do that. No one bothered to change the designations. Eventually, those ship designations stuck.”

“The reason why they changed was some pompous blowhard politician got something wrong, then to save face changed them so that he was right after the fact?” Andern said incredulously, “No one can seriously be that arrogant.”

“You’d be surprised by what the political critters can do my friend,” John said smiling, “I’m getting back to working on homework.”

10:20 Rec Room

The rec room had all of the awake and off-duty personnel in it. John and Andern were playing a game of cornhole. Kori was reading a smutty romance novel on the couch. Rich was playing a VR game in the far corner.

“I figured when you got depowered you’d get worse at cornhole,” Andern said after getting obliterated in the game.

“My brain got burned out you idiot. My hand-eye coordination was never affected.”

“Still think you should throw from ten feet back.”

“Would make no difference to the outcome.”

Andern put his hands on his hips, “See, that amount of arrogance is why some people don’t like you.”

“You're being a sore loser Andern,” Kori said as she peeked over her book.

“Well said,” John said smiling.

Andern tossed the bags to John so he could put them away. John slid the glass door open and put the bags on their shelf. He then walked over to the board and locked it in place on the back wall. Rich pushed his VR headset off his eyes.

“Permission to ask a question, sir?”

John turned to face Rich, “Fire away.”

“What was that signal about?”

“We’re not sure. The Topeka was being very tightlipped. As of an hour ago another light cruiser, three frigates, and eight destroyers joined the Topeka’s task force. That’s not a good portent of things to come.”

“Definitely not pirates?” Andern asked.

“Look, pirates are a chaotic element in the equation. But the likelihood they are behind it is minimal. My bet is a covert op that the Mercantilists were running. That’s their modus operandi. The Alliance doesn’t do stuff like this. Or at least haven’t in the past.”

“But why? What do they have to gain by attacking a naval ship?” Rich asked.

“That’s the million-dollar question. Maybe they didn’t know who they were luring in. But I agree, them attacking a military vessel is an act of war. Attacking a pirate ship or freighting would be highly aggressive though may not rise to an act of war if they were targeting a specific vessel,” John paused, “But there doesn’t appear to be any good reason to attack them though. A military vessel with an unlocked, and undamaged, computer core would be golden to them.”

14:15 Captain’s Quarters

John was once again sleeping soundly. At this moment there wasn’t a worry in the world for him. It was comfortable in his bed, or at least as comfortable as it could be on a ship. And he was getting some well-needed rest.

The communication button started to blink red, “Sir, sorry for bothering you again but you need to come to the dining room.”

“Fucking hell. They did it again,” John muttered to himself as he rolled over and reached up to press the button, “Be there in a couple.”

John put on some gym shorts and a t-shirt. He sat down on a chair and tied his tennis shoes. He was shaking his head throughout his actions in his room. He then opened the door and walked to the dining room.

John looked unimpressed, “What’s up?”

Andy threw a meal to him, “Open that up.”

“I’d rather not waste a meal,” John said with a confused look on his face.

Kevin joined the conversation via the intercom, “Humor him, captain.”

John shrugged and complied with the request but was greeted with a vile and rotten smell from the meal, “Oh for fucks sake.”

John tried to reseal the meal. Unfortunately for him, some of the spoiled meal’s juices got on his hands. He quickly ran over to the trash chute and tossed the meal in it. John then shimmied over to the sink and began washing his hands.

“Rotten meals are definitely not on the menu,” John said wiping his hands.

“Eighty percent of our communal food stores are rotten sir,” Andy said.

“Come again,” John leaned in and looked surprised.

“Yeah, you heard that right. Eight zero percent.”

“I already had Andy scan my private meals. Those are affected too, though at a lower rate.”

“Are the meals past their expiration date?”

“Negative sir, but I suspect they were stored improperly.”

John turned to face the wall and lightly bumped his head against the wall. He sighed deeply at the effect this would have on their mission. Naval ships were required to have a minimum amount of food on hand at all times. That amount would be dependant on how long the mission would last, the class of ship, and obviously the number of people that would be on the ship.

“How much food is left that isn’t spoiled?”

“Excluding yours, we’re down to a third of what we had initially stocked,” Kevin said.

“Andy, coordinate with the Winnipeg and Las Palmas. Kevin, I’ll chat with you in a sec.”

Lori walked up to John, “I can answer a general question. Most of the food that was loaded onto the cadet’s ships was stored improperly. We just found out.”

“We need to know what their food situation is like. We can balance the food load between the ships if push comes to shove. But we’re well below the operational minimum. We’ll need to push up shore leave.”

“Presuming the rest of the ships are in the same position as you, how much food do you have left?”

John turned around to the terminal on the wall and began typing some things into it, “We have between eighteen- and nineteen days' worth of food remaining. A five-day deployment would require between fifteen and twenty-five days worth of food.”

“The academy has already given permission to take an additional shore leave as a result of this.”

John smiled, “Well, I think that line just made you the most popular person on the ship.”

Kevin interrupted the pair, “Las Palmas initially estimated that half their food stores are spoiled. Winnipeg is in line with ours.”

John walked back to the terminal. He brought up a map and overlaid military stations. A filter was placed upon them to display which ones had large retail and commercial spaces. The final piece of data John wanted to see was how far away they were.

“Lieutenant, did you say how long the shore leave would be?”

“I didn’t, up to forty-eight hours, though that includes time to restock the ship.”

“Presuming the food is good and brought to our docking bay then I can work with that time. We’ll scan the food before it comes on board.”

“I was going to recommend that, but I’m glad you suggested it.”

John pressed the inter-ship communication button, “Kevin, plot a course to Ganymede. Send a request to the Ronald McNair Memorial Station that we’re in need of food restock and a waste collection.”

“On it. We’re six days out from there. Do we want to speed up any?” Kevin replied.

“All ahead flank. Contact Sol Control about our change in flight plan and speed. We’ll finish up the rest of our drills by the time we get there.”

“Roger.”

“Never a dull moment aboard a ship, is there cadet?” Lori asked smiling.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer the dull moments. I’d really rather not be part of a poop cruise.”