Fleet Action (wc-3) by William Forstchen (100 books to read in a lifetime txt) 📕

down, a light puff of dust swirling up around him. He looked around at his skeleton crew which were manning the bridge. Normal ship's complement was just under five hundred personnel — he had only thirty-five. Nearly three quarters of a full crew were either support for the three squadrons the ship would normally be carrying, or for the weapons systems, but even without them, running the ship was going to be a chancy operation. And with only three Ferrets, and a Sabre on board that had yet to be transferred off, he felt very naked.

"The Lieutenant has cleared the landing bay," Sparks announced on the comm, "and is back aboard the docking station."

"Close off the docking collar, Sparks, and disconnect external power."

"Already done, sir, docking collar disconnected, external power cut and withdrawn."

Jason looked over at his helm crew.

"Take us out of here."

A barely perceptible vibration ran through the ship as Masumi tapped into the reactors, lighting up the nuclear pulse maneuvering engines. He felt a cold shiver run down his back.

"Velocity at 225 meters per second," helm announced, "heading 31 degrees, negative 8."

"By God, we're on our way," Jason laughed, coming to his feet

A cheer went up on the bridge, the crew laughing, slapping each other on the back.

"Ship 2291, respond please."

It took a moment for Jason to realize that the incoming message was for him, the caller using his ship's decommissioned identification number.

The communications officer looked over at him and Jason raised his hand, signaling for her not to open a line.

"Ship 2291, you are in violation of peace commission procedures for title transfer. You are ordered to turn your vessel about and return to the decommissioning yard at once.

"Ship 2291, you are . . ."

"Turn that damn thing off, Jason snapped and the communications officer switched the speaker off.

"Helm, set course for jump transit point 17A and let's get the hell out of here."

"Come on, you two," Jason said, looking over at Ian and Doomsday and they followed him off the bridge.

Picking up a small package he left the bridge and started down the corridor out to the hangar bay. Reaching the bay he paused and looked around. It actually looked big for a change. It was, of course, almost empty of fighters, and it seemed strange to see it like this. He opened the package up and unfolded the commissioning flag of Tarawa. He hung it back up in its old spot, next to the roll of honor. A light film of dust was on the honor roll and using his shirt sleeve he wiped it off, stepped back and without any feeling of self-consciousness, he came to attention and saluted

He heard a light clicking of heels and looked over his shoulder to see Sparks at attention, saluting as well. She came to at ease and smiled.

"It's good to be back with our friends, Jason."

He smiled, realizing that for the first time since he had known her she had called him by his name. It took him a moment to even recall hers.

"It certainly is, Janet."

Her features flushed a bit

Ian coughed in a very self-conscious manner and nudged Doomsday.

"Come on, buddy, let's go clean up the pilot ready room," and the two left.

"Funny, folks back home called me by my name of course, but you know, I can't remember the last time somebody didn't call me Sparks."

She had changed so much since becoming an officer, the hard edges polished into a smooth professionalism, the dirty coveralls and oil-smudged face long since gone. She was wearing a standard B class jump suit and he realized yet again that it made her look awfully damn attractive. But he had to push that away. Even though they were not part of the Confederation Fleet anymore, he still wanted his ship run by Fleet rules, and one of them was that no personal relationships were allowed between commanding officers and those serving under them.

He lowered his gaze for a second and then looked back and her smile faded a bit

"Sorry, Jason, I guess we're back to the old routine, aren't we? Funny, I couldn't wait to get back, but I knew if I did, I'd have to give up something to do it, a chance for you.

He nodded. He knew she was interested but maybe it was simply that the sharp edge of pain in losing Svetlana still cut a bit too deeply. The few encounters since her death had left him feeling cold and empty.

Before he could say anything she drew closer, leaned up, and kissed him lightly on the lips, the kiss lingering. Startled, he looked at her and saw the sparkling in her eyes. He suddenly felt so tempted to put his arms around her — but she drew back.

"I'd better get to work, sir," she said, sniffling slightly. "This flight deck is filthy and I'll be damned if I'll allow a launch from it before it's been cleaned up,"

"I'm glad Tolwyn let me take you as my maintenance officer, Janet," he hesitated, "and I'm just glad to have you with me as well."

She looked at him, shrugging a bit awkwardly, and went across the deck, leaving him alone.

He exhaled hard and shook his head.

"Captain?"

"On the flight deck."

"We've got a laser hookup from CVE 6 Normandy."

"Patch it through to flight operations bridge."

He double-timed over to the flight bridge and climbed up into the empty room. The control positions were all empty and it seemed eerie with not a single soul around. He switched on a comm channel and a holo image formed.

"How're you doing, laddie?"

"Little complaining from the decommissioning crowd but we're away and clear."

Paladin smiled.

"Even though those papers are nice and legal like, we are bending a couple of the rules a wee bit," he said with a laugh. "I'm coming up now off your starboard beam, Iwo and Wake and Crete are clear as well. How's Tarawa look?"

"Everything nominal. We got a bonus of four fighters on board her as well. The mothball maintenance seemed