2305 hours CST, June 2673; Clearwater system

The Skate continued to decelerate, but instead of the relatively leisurely 1-G rate for half an hour to set up the torpedo run, Murphy had ordered 2.5-G rate of deceleration. This brought some groans from the crew, especially those from lighter-gravity worlds. Navy personnel were trained to sustain higher acceleration and had to be certified that they could cope with it, but this did not mean they had to like it. A 2.5-G deceleration meant that the body weight was two and a half times what the crew was used to. It was fatiguing for long periods of time.

With the speed that the Skate had built up, it took them over an hour and a half to come to a stop relative to the station. That hour and a half pushed the torpedo boat half a light second beyond Clearwater Prime.

The engines did not cease after that hour and a half at 2.5 G. The boat still needed to get back to the station, so the engines kept firing for an additional forty minutes before they shut down. The relief was short-lived as Leading Spaceman Hart flipped the boat end for end quickly. The crew members at the ends of the boat did not feel any relief as they were pushed toward the fore and aft bulkheads. A normal flip for a boat like the Skate took sixty seconds. Lead Hart flipped the vessel in fifteen seconds. The Rake boats could rotate at thirty degrees per second when they were fully loaded, two and a half times faster than Hart flipped the almost-empty Skate.

The boat decelerated again for forty minutes, bringing the boat back to where it had started a day and a half ago. The boats from the fifth patrol zone had already landed, and the Skate was third in line after the remaining boats from the fourth patrol zone. Those six boats had come in fast like the Skate. The rest were farther out and came in slower. They would not arrive for at least four hours and still had to take the time to land. The final boats from the first patrol zone would not arrive on the Charlie for at least twelve hours.

The Skate was back in its hanger at 0222 hours, with the deck hands chaining it in place in the middle of the hanger. Most of the crew left the boat and started to haul provisions on board the boat to top up the stores. Fuelling specialists in purple hazard suits hooked up hoses to the hydrogen and oxygen tanks. Red-suited weapons techs started to work on the point defense lasers to give them a final tune-up, while others were hauling fifty-metre-long weapon pods from the weapons elevators at the back of the hanger. The weightless environment both helped and hindered the loading of the boat, but the navy spacemen were trained for it.

Those crew members not tasked with getting the boat ready for launch elected to stay onboard the boat and catch up on their sleep. That was until Murphy made his rounds, and made sure that despite the checks run in space, more checks and diagnostic tests were run on all equipment. After his rounds Murphy decided to stay on the boat as well. His quarters on the boat were smaller than on the Charlie, but they were his, and he did not have to share them.

Sleep was not an option for Murphy. He had to go to a briefing with the other officers that had landed their boats. The seven lieutenants who had arrived met in the squadron’s briefing room at 0300 hours. Murphy’s sleep cycle was all messed up, and in the last thirty-six hours, he had had only four hours of sleep, most of it in the form of naps. The other six officers did not look wide-awake either.

It’s my own fault, Murphy berated himself as he found himself a seat with the other officers. I should have let the XO handle some of the engagements, or left it to the watch officers.

“Hey, Phil,” one of the others greeted him. Lieutenant Reginald “Red” Harris was the senior officer for TBC-457, one of the boats in the last patrol zone.

“Hi, Red, wasn’t it?”

“Yup,” he said and offered his hand. “Nice exercise out there. We normally just go out and come back in a half hour. It’s usually fairly boring. But I think we had you. I still don’t know how the fox is supposed to win when the manoeuvring room is down so much, and there’s nowhere left to hide.”

“I think you’re right. I was mainly hoping that the umpire would treat our defenses high enough to keep you from successfully engaging us till we took our shot. We were moving pretty fast, which means the engagement time would have been down.”

“I’m not sure that would have been enough. Three to one odds would have been tough. We could launch twelve torpedoes at you, and there was no way you could have escaped them all or have shot them down. You’d only be able to bring maybe five or six lasers to bear on them at once. The shielding on the Mark Fifteens would keep enough of the point defense laser energy away that the gunners wouldn’t have been able to switch targets.”

“I know.”

“Well, you started early too. I don’t think Robertson thought of that.”

“Not really that early. He did say something like, ‘Training will start when TBC-four-seventy-three’ gets to the initial position.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, but Robertson is going to be storming mad when he gets in. He hasn’t missed a fox in these exercises for years.”

“Well, you aren’t going to have to worry about that,” a new voice answered from the corridor leading up to the front of the briefing room.

“Attention on deck.” One of the other officers called out.

The admiral of the fleet came into the room, followed by Captain Reid and a redheaded lieutenant he had never seen before. The admiral floated into the room, looking more like a native of Terrace than anyone else Murphy had ever seen. She was short, and she was not just thickly boned. She was stout.

“As you were,” she said and looked at the four men and three women who commanded the seven torpedo boats that arrived after the termination of the exercise. The female lieutenant who followed after the admiral moved to join the seven in the rows of seats.

“You were promised two weeks of training, but circumstances have changed. Just before the termination of the exercise, a bulk hauler came in trailing debris, atmosphere, and smoke. Pirates attacked her at Stellar Alpha Four—a small flotilla of pirates. From the reports it could be three frigates and a destroyer. The cargo vessel was already on her way here and was making her run for the curve jump when she was attacked.

“It’s doubtful that the pirates are still in Stellar Alpha Four, and we need to find out where they went.” The admiral turned and tapped on the display behind her, bringing up the local star map.

“As you know, there are eight stars within easy jump range of Clearwater. Three of them lead deeper into the Republic, one leads into Caliton and has routes to other nations, and three lead into NTF territory. The last is the start of a route that trails along the border of the Republic.”

Murphy did not know why the admiral was giving them the briefing, or why she was going over so commonly held knowledge, but he paid attention. The briefing continued for another half an hour as the admiral gave the seven officers their orders. They were to start off in pairs, leaving Murphy’s boat as the odd boat out again, and he was left to explore the star that led to routes along the border of the Republic.

The admiral completed her portion of the briefing and left the room, leaving the rest up to Captain Reid.

“Each boat will carry two Mark Fifteens internally, an HHE emitter, and a combined GAD and MAD sensor array internally. My crew should have already loaded them onto your boats. No torpedoes will be carried on the external racks. This is a scouting mission, not a strike mission. I know this leaves you limited offensive options, but stealth is more important. Any questions?”

The captain’s tone made it obvious she was not expecting any, but Murphy spoke up.

“Ma’am, TBC-four-seventy-three cannot handle the mission at the present time.” The temperature in the room seemed to fall, even though it was handled by the environmental systems. Everyone in the room looked at Murphy as if he was committing suicide. Torpedo boats were already on the way out, but it looked like Murphy was going to go faster than most.

“If you are referring to the cut in your training, Lieutenant Johnson has given me the results from the exercise. You don’t need the training to do the patrol job.”

“No ma’am, my boat is not adequately equipped for the mission.”

“Murphy, everyone gets the same load out, two torpedoes and extra sensors.”

“That isn’t my concern, ma’am. Those are the parameters of the mission. My concern is that TBC-four-seventy-three has six crewmen without proper skin suits. One of them is my lead helmsman.”

“Vac suits are suitable replacements, Lieutenant,” Captain Reid replied firmly, trying to close the discussion.

“I hate to disagree, ma’am. But vac suits are unacceptable for a combat vessel. They added at least fifteen minutes to the combat warning drill I ran. If they are prevalent onboard a boat like they are onboard mine, then they could add more, depending on who is on watch when the alarm is rung. Those fifteen to thirty minutes could be the difference between a successful mission and a lost crew. I can’t in good faith ask my crew to report to battle stations effectively naked.” His tone was just as firm. His eyes showed he wasn’t about to back down. This was unheard of in a torpedo boat squadron.

“Why weren’t the suits requisitioned beforehand, Lieutenant?”

Murphy pulled out his tablet. “They were, ma’am. My lead helmsman’s suit was requisitioned four months ago, the rest a minimum of three months and as much as eight months ago. The other skin suits on the boat are still certified, but fifty percent are borderline and will probably fail during their next certification.”

Captain Reid did not look happy. Junior officers did not blindside a senior officer in front of others like this, but there was some justification to it. Murphy’s boat had just docked a little over an hour ago, and his report was still making its way up the chain of command. Though most importantly, TBC-473 and the other torpedo boats had just been assigned to a mission that might result in combat.

The captain visibly calmed herself. “Lieutenant, those suits take at least a week to manufacture, and this mission is vital—” She stopped as the redheaded lieutenant stood up.

“Yes, Lieutenant Johnson?”

“There might be something suitable on the station, ma’am. There’s the stuff that studio uses.”

“They might be usable,” the captain said and looked at Murphy again. “Regardless, you seven will launch in three and a half hours with or without the replacement. Clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. If there are no other concerns, dismissed.” She did not wait for any other issues to be raised and left the room.

* * *

0430 hours CST, June 18th, 2673; Clearwater Prime, Light Industrial District

Lead Hart found herself and five other crew members from the Skate outside what looked to be a small warehouse in the station’s industrial district. All the crew members looked to be half asleep, but were doing their best to remain awake as they rang the bell for a second time.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” answered a voice a few moments later when the door opened. A voice that could only be described as bubbly said, “Yes? Oh yes, you’re the space navy men. Come right on in.”

The owner of the voice was definitely female, and Hillary got a good look at her as she walked into the building. The tall blonde was a head taller than the helmsman, almost 180 centimetres in height, and looked to weigh no more than 55 kilograms. The weight was only a guess, since the blonde must have had a personal and localized antigravity array for her upper torso.

“Our commanding officer told us you could help us out,” Hillary said.

“Oh yes,” the blonde said. “I’m Darline. Call me Darli.”

“Darline Hughes?” one of the male crewmen asked from behind Hillary.

“Oh, a fan!” Darli said, the bounciness of her voice increasing as she spoke.

“Uh,” Hillary said as she tried to get the conversation back to business. The CO did not give them much time. “Our CO said you might be able to get us equipped with skin suits in a hurry.”

“Oh yes, yes, I can. I was warming up the equipment for a shoot today, anyway.”

“Shoot?”

“Why yes, this is a movie studio after all.” Hillary looked closely at the blonde and the clothing she wore, which was…brief. The helmsman flushed and looked away.

“I’m not sure; I mean, the suits are expensive and custom made.”

“You mean the old fabric skin suits. Why yes, they are. But what I’ll get you is quick to produce.” The blonde grabbed Hillary’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled her down the hallway toward the back of the building. The lights of the large room were already on, though they looked to be still warming up and steadily getting brighter. Cameras were set up around what could only be called a shower station and a vat of gel.

“We’re a very popular movie studio, and we’re setting up for some outer space scenes! We have the latest tech in skin suit creation here. And when my friend, George Patel—do you know him, by the way? When he called, I didn’t see any problem with letting the marines use our facilities.”

“We’re with the navy, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t call me that! It makes me feel positively ancient.”

The blue-eyed blonde looked at the two crewmen. “Now, boys, would you please stand outside while the girls are fitted?” Her tone did not fit in with the image of a bubbly blonde. There was steel in her tone, the sort of tone from a woman when she expects no arguments from a man or a child.

The two crewmen left, and Darli looked at the four crewwomen who remained. “The gel skin suits are different from what you’re used to.” The bubbly airhead voice was gone as she spoke. Her eyes were sharper and more focused. “They also take some getting used to. Come with me.” She herded them toward the platform.

“This isn’t set up like it would be on board a new ship. You can’t get the proper camera angles on a ship, and the lighting conditions are just terrible, but no matter for that. You four will have to disrobe,” she said and went to one of the lockers and pulled out some disposable razors. “I can’t believe we’re still using these things after all these centuries.”

Hillary and the crewwomen looked a bit shocked at the instructions from the blonde, and Darline turned to look at the four. “Snap to it, girls. You don’t have a lot of time. Patel said you were launching at oh-six-thirty hours. Get undressed, and you will need to remove all your body hair. The gel suits will grab onto any stray hair, and believe me, you do not want that to happen. It will eventually break the airtightness of the suit and makes it very painful to take off.”

Darline watched them as they worked, making sure the job was complete. “That’s a good start, but you’ll need to use some depilatory cream; it’ll keep the body hair away for a few weeks. Patel said you would be out for at least two, and the cream will help for the duration.” She left the four in the shower area and grabbed some cans from the lockers to hand to them. “This part always seems to draw the crowds in the theatres. Don’t worry, the cameras are shut off.” Even with the businesslike tone, there still seemed to be a mischievous tone to it. “Hurry up; I still have to fit the men afterward.”

The four moved to help each other and made sure the job was complete. One of the crewwomen asked, “Uh, Miss Hughes, you don’t make children’s movies here, do you?”

“Call me Darli. No, we don’t. You could call them instructional films if you want to tell the rest of your crew. But yes, we film adult videos here, and this set has become very popular of late. Especially when we do the co-ed scenes. None the more for that. Get rinsed off, you four. You need to get rid of that chemical.”

She bustled them through the shower and made sure they were clean. She did not quite take a skin-stripping agent to them, but she came close. “I’m certified to make gel suits that last six weeks. Fortunately, you won’t want to wear them that long.”

“Six weeks?” one of them asked.

“Certified?” another asked.

“Yes,” Darli said as she moved them to the platform. “Does that surprise you? It really shouldn’t. I’m older than I look.” The blonde looked at the four women closely and then went back to the lockers. “We normally don’t use these on set, and they have been highly stylized for our work, but they’re just as functional.” She pulled out four hermetically sealed packets and handed them over to the crewwomen.

“Thongs?” one asked when she opened the package.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll get used to them after a day or two, a week at most. Just be glad I’m here to help. When this gets deployed to the new battleships, the crew members will have to do this for themselves. Who’s first?”

Hillary sighed and stepped forward; she was the most senior crewwoman there. She pulled on the thong, and the straps rode high on her hips like a very small bikini bottom. She always hated adjusting the plumbing on her previous skin suit and hated this more. Darli pulled out a sealed pack from the locker and ripped it open.

“These are the sensor pads. They’re much like the ones built into the fabric skin suits, but we have to do it differently here.” She showed Hillary the diagram on the sealed pack of where to apply them. There were fourteen sensors in all, for the four limbs and along the torso. Each had a cable attached to it that ran to a small collector box. Darli made sure the helmswoman had the sensors in the right place.

“Good. Tie your hair up, you do not want it in the gel,” Darli said and handed over a hair band and shower cap. “Get into the pool and bend your knees so that your chin is touching the gel.” Hillary stepped into the pool and bent her knees. She didn’t have to bend them too much.

“Now walk to the other side, keeping your legs spread as you do so. This is where it will get embarrassing, but you’re going to have to make sure the gel gets into any uncovered crevice of your body.”

Hillary flushed as she moved over to the far side of the vat and used her fingers to make sure she was properly covered.

“It’s a good thing Patel called me a while ago; it takes a while to heat up the pool. Nonactivated gel congeals at room temperature.” Darli looked at the helmswoman. “OK, hold that position, and get your chin touching the gel. Are you all covered? Good. Put the sensor box on the rim of the pool and spread your legs to make sure you’re covered with the gel. Bend your knees if you have to. There are two handles about a metre apart in front of you. Hold your elbows up and keep your balance.”

Hillary grabbed the handles and did her best to hold her position as instructed. It was not a comfortable position to be in.

“Just hold that for a moment. Lock your hands on those handles, because you’re going to feel a slight shock. Ready?”

“Yes ma’am,” she said.

“Good, three, two, one.” Darli pushed a button, and Hillary yelped.

“OK, you can come out now.” She reached down and helped Hillary from the vat. The squat helmsman was again surprised at the strength in the woman’s hand and arm. Hillary’s body was covered in a red material that looked much like the fabric skin suits most crewmen wore. The difference between this and the old fabric skin suits was that while the old suits were skintight, this new suit looked like it was skin and moved exactly as she moved. The only breaks were the connections for the plumbing.

“How does that feel?”

“Umm, weird, tight. I don’t really know.”

“You’ll get used to it. Normally we add a softening agent to make the material rippable for obvious reasons. You’re just lucky I was making a new batch today, and I haven’t added that in yet. The suit should last you up to three weeks, but I wouldn’t recommend wearing it that long. I would need to test your skin chemistry and give you a custom body wash to make the suit last the full six weeks.”

Hillary flexed her limbs, her fingers, and her toes. The suit followed her perfectly, removing just a little of her dexterity as it added two to three millimetres to the thickness of her skin. Breathing deep was hindered a little at the end of her inhalation.

Darli turned to look at the others. “OK, you girls, your turn. We can handle four at once in the pool. Now you know what to expect, you won’t be surprised. Just make sure you’re decently covered.” She tossed the remaining three a pack of the biometric sensors. “Each of you, make sure these are in place properly.”

She went over to another set of lockers and pulled out a thermal stocking. “Yet another piece we don’t use on the set that often, and you should hear the complaints from the actors about it, but it just doesn’t look sexy when recorded,” she said and handed the stocking over to Hillary. “This is much like the old style of thermal stockings.”

“How do you know so much about this? Why are you doing this? And who’s Patel?” Hillary asked suddenly.

“I told you, he was an old friend. He’s Captain Reid’s logistics officer. I also told you I was older than I looked. I graduated from the Naval Academy on Terrace fourteen years ago.”

“That was during the war.”

“Yes it was. Though I didn’t serve much on the frontline ships, I was more valuable, they said, in the war ministry, explaining how the war was going to the general population.”

“I’m not sure, but I think our new CO served in the war on the front line. He’s different than the administrators we’ve had for the past few years.”

Darli grabbed a pair of boots from the lockers. They looked like regular boots. “One of the advantages of the gel suit, apart from chopping ten minutes off the donning time, is that you don’t need special boots and gloves. The boots and gloves worn over the suits are just there to protect the suit from wear. Though the gloves do have thermal connections on them, I wouldn’t recommend wearing them if you have to be quick on the controls.”

“Get some thermal socks from the marines, big marines, and slip your hands into them if they get too cold or too hot. The gel does have some thermal insulation, but not much. If you don’t have to worry about fine control, then wear the gloves. Who’s your CO?”

“Lieutenant Phillip Murphy is our new CO.”

“Oh? Maybe I know him. Around one-hundred-sixty-five centimetres, and about eighty kilos? Looks like a stump, has brown hair and blue eyes. He always has a distracted look on his face, except when he focuses on something. He also has this look he gives you when you say something stupid, making you feel that you’re not much smarter than a dog? Not interested in women?”

“He never looked distracted. But yeah, roughly right. I don’t know about not liking women.”

“Oh that reminds me,” Darli said and went over to the control panel. “You girls ready?” she asked, not waiting very long, just making sure they were in position in the vat. She pressed the button to activate the gel and form the suits of the three crewwomen, causing three simultaneous yelps. She turned back to Hillary.

“Well, tell Phil that Beth Hastings said hi.” Her eyes turned back to the women in the pool. “OK, you girls come out of there.”

The blond woman waited for the other three crew members to join her at the locker and handed each of them a thermal stocking.

“The gel suits are pretty durable. If you’re careful, they can last the three weeks I said to a month. But hard use will see them degrade faster. Normally with heavy use, they’ll wear out in two weeks. Though normally they’re only worn for twelve hours and then removed. I set up the suits to be a bit more durable than normal, so they shouldn’t be a problem.” She removed a couple of bottles from the lockers. “This is the solvent. Use it if you have to, but wait till you’re back in the Clearwater system,” she said as she held up one another bottle. “This is the emergency repair kit. Use it like spray-paint. It will last for about four hours. After that you better be back in pressure.”

Darli grabbed the sensor box from one of the crewwomen. “On the thermal stocking, there’s a pouch on the upper left torso,” she said as she pointed it out and then slipped the sensor box inside. The cables to the sensors ran up the neckline of the thermal stocking and then inside. One cable hung freely.

She went to the last set of lockers and opened them. Her hands found one of the sets of shoulder harnesses, collars, helmets, and standard emergency packs.

“These are almost exactly like the patching equipment for the fabric skin suits, so you’d better know how to put them on. The only thing different is that you have to connect the sensor pack to the collar. I don’t have any jumpsuits for you to wear over the thermal stockings. There’s no call for them in my line of work. But you should get yourself some tough and thin work gloves if you can find them. The suits are tough, but you really don’t want to damage them, and the gloves will protect your hands. Only use the thermal gloves if you have to. They’re thick and a pain to use.”

The time was 0455 hours. “That took longer than I hoped. Now skedaddle, you four, I have to get your boys naked and fitted. For some reason they get more nervous about it than women do.” She gave them a smile and put on her airhead personality to get the last two crewmen fitted for the mission.