The Best Defense (near-future HFY) - One Giant Leap 03: The Space Navy Needs YOU
Joshua Collins
Date: March 3rd, 2028
Location: NROTC, Texas A&M
Everything had changed in just a few days. Josh could see it on the faces of everyone he passed on campus. Even ROTC had changed, with the instructors looking distracted for the first time all year.
Contrary to Hollywood predictions, discovering aliens exist hadn’t produced a panic. Actually, some people were still insisting the images were faked by StarTran for the publicity, despite the corroboration by multiple sources. As if StarTran would waste another few hundred million dollars to get attention when they’d already had more people logging into their stream for the Great Leap test than had shown up for the last three Super Bowls combined.
No, other than a few voices, everyone had taken to confirmation pretty easily. Humans were flexible like that, and science fiction had become so mainstream this century that aliens were almost a familiar concept. There was no panic. There was worry, though. Who were they? Where did they come from? What did they want? Did they really abduct people? What were we going to do about it?
Josh had no idea, except for two things. One, they weren’t friendly; even if the missing persons cases were total coincidence, they were sneaking around rather than saying hi. Two, the United States was going to do something about it. In the last three days, it was already the major topic of the election, from the president on down. No matter what, no matter who got elected, someone would do something. Even if it didn’t work.
Josh wanted to be part of something that would work. That meant getting in on the ground floor.
“Lieutenant?” Josh asked, knocking on the open door. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course.” Lt. Kathryn Davis stopped typing on her computer and waved away Josh’s attempt to stand at attention. “Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, Midshipman?”
“Ma’am, I’d like to put in for a transfer.”
“College transfer?” Davis raised an eyebrow. “Your courses are doing well. Very well, in fact. What happened?”
“Leap Day, Ma’am. And no, not a college transfer. I want to transfer to the Air Force ROTC.”
“Oh.” Clearly, Davis hadn’t expected that. She sat back, silent for a moment, looking at him intently. “I see. You don’t want the Air Force specifically, do you.”
“Space Force, Ma’am. They’re going to get a lot of funding, and they’re going to need engineers.”
“Of course. You want to be an astronaut, huh?”
“No, Ma’am, but my priorities have . . . changed.” Josh sighed. He’d gone over this in his head for the last several days, but it still didn’t feel right. “I still love the Navy, Ma’am. My Dad always said he’d disown me if I joined the Chair Force. But he’ll understand. They’re the ones who’ll be in space. They’re going to need to expand fast. Even if ET’s not hostile, we’re going to enter a new Space Race, and the StarTran gravity sail is going to make it very different from the last one.”
“That it will.” Davis studied him. “Tell me why you need to be part of that.”
“I . . . Ma’am?”
“It’s a simple question, Midshipman. You want to be part of the Space Force, because you want to be involved in the Space Race. Why?”
“Because that’s where I can best serve my country, Ma’am.”
“Don’t feed me what my daddy taught me to shovel, Midshipman. I’m not doubting your patriotism. I’m asking about your motivations. The Navy needs engineers, too, and you’ve got the marks of a good one. You want something more than the Navy provides. What is it?”
“They’re going to need engineers. I can be an asset–”
“You want to be an asset, why not stay here? If you need to feel needed, the Navy’s just fine. You don’t need to waste your time figuring out how to kludge together the new Chair Force coffee machines.”
“No, they’re the only ones in space. I want to–”
“All the inventing is going to be handled by civilians. JPL, Goddard, StarTran, SpaceX, Horizon — not Space Force. They’re glorified traffic control.”
“No, Ma’am, they’re going to be–”
“There are treaties limiting military activity in space, anyway. What do you think you’ll be able to add? Do you think you’ll be able to go join Starfleet, Midshipman? You want to protect your country, or do you want to boldly go?”
“Because we need to be out there!” Josh resisted the urge to slam his fist on the LT’s desk. Why was she acting like this? “I don’t care about exploration! I care about protecting people! We can’t do that on the ground. It doesn’t matter how hostile they are. Not extending the military into space is like if once we won the Revolution we said, oh, the Army’s all we need, why build a Navy?”
“That actually happened, you know.”
“I know! That’s the point! We built six ships. Six! The British had a hundred and twenty-seven commissioned warships at the time. It took us over a century to match that number. But now we’re the biggest navy in the world, able to go anywhere and protect people just by showing up. We don’t even have to fire a shot most of the time because they know they can’t win! But we don’t have that in space. We don’t know how much of a tech gap we’re even talking about. We’ve got to start now, or we won’t have a prayer of catching up!”
Lt. Davis just looked at him, and Josh slowly became aware of how much he’d just raised his voice. After a moment, he broke eye contact, deciding instead it would probably be easier to win a staring contest with her desk. “Ma’am. Sorry.”
“What made you get interested in robotics and engineering in the first place, Collins?” Davis asked, using his name for the first time since he walked in.
“Ma’am?” He looked up, confused. It wasn’t just the change in topic, but the fact he wasn’t getting a dressing-down for his outburst.
“Did I stutter?”
“No, Ma’am. Um. Do you know about the Mnemosyne Project?”
“Of course. It probably won’t work, but it’s an interesting attempt. Was it that?”
“Sort of. My next-door neighbor is Getrude LaCroix.”
“Oh. Wow. I hadn’t realized that.”
“Yeah.” Josh looked away again. “She was basically my grandma, even though we’re not related. I mean, obviously. And it’s a wonder I didn’t get fat, what with how much she fed me. She’s the one who taught me to cook. More importantly, she’s the one who taught me how to be a good person. More than my parents, even. My mom had her hands full, and Dad . . . you know. Long deployments.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Of course.” He knew Lt. Davis understood. She’d been the chief engineer on an Independence-class ship assigned to the Pacific before rotating to teach engineering at A&M.
“So when she started . . . getting sick, it was like the world dropped through a black hole. There was nothing we could do. Then I heard about Mnemosyne. I convinced her to apply. Helped her write the letter myself. Got everyone I could to write in about how good she was. How much she’d helped everyone. How she was exactly what they were looking for. And they agreed, and she got experimental surgery and the implant. Now she’s got the best care in the world and she still gets to do everything at home. And I spent a lot of time talking with the techs they’d send out for checkups, and I read up on everything I could. Built my first robot a year later because of them. That competition I won? A Mnemosyne engineer helped me figure out the programming.”
“So you caught the robotics bug?”
“Nah.” Josh studied the desk again. “That’s just something I’m good at. I like . . . helping people. I know it sounds stupid, but the idea that Aunt Gerty might be able to help people long after she died, all because of that computer? That’s what got me into engineering. I figured I’d learn as much as I could in the Reserves, and then, well, maybe apply to Mnemosyne.”
“Collins. Look at me.” Davis leaned across her desk, her dark eyes intent. “You want to get any kind of letter of recommendation out of me, you will never say helping people sounds stupid. Ever. Got that, Midshipman?”
Josh swallowed. “Aye, aye, Ma’am.”
“You think the Navy does all that disaster relief and foreign commerce protection for fun? Earthquakes, hurricanes, wildfires. If it’s in range of a carrier, we’re there. The Navy’s the biggest humanitarian organization in the world. Not even the Catholic freaking Church does more than we do, and they’re the biggest single religion in the world. You want to help people, you stay in the Navy.”
“But –”
“But me no buts, Middie. You said your piece. Now you’ll hear mine.” Davis quirked a smile. “You were right earlier. It took us a century to build up the Navy, and even longer to catch up to the RN’s growth. And yes, we can’t afford to stay on the ground, or in the water for that matter. We’re going to space, and tech’s going to change. We do need young engineers and roboticists who can keep up with the pace. But you don’t need to join the Space Force for that.”
Josh opened his mouth, then remembered and snapped it closed.
“Good. Now, to answer the question you almost asked, what is a combatant command?”
“A joint military command composed of two or more units from separate branches,” Josh answered automatically.
“How many of them are there?”
“I . . . eleven?”
“Correct. And one of them is Space Command. They’re joint commands. You’re right that the Space Force is going to expand, but so is SPACECOM; and when SPACECOM was reestablished ten years ago, it included the Navy. It’s not our first time adapting to sudden changes, you know. And you can bet the Navy is going to space.”
“We are?”
“Oh, it’s not official or anything.” Davis waved a hand. “Not yet. But ever since the Space Force was established ten years ago, we’ve all known that it wouldn’t be able to handle the big operations, whenever we got around to inventing the tech. What’s the most fundamental thing about a spaceship?”
“Um.” Josh thought quickly. Propulsion was obvious, especially with StarTran’s new drive on everyone’s mind, so it probably wasn’t that. “Radiation shielding. Most people forget about it.”
“Wrong.” Davis smirked. “And no, not engines, either. Think, Midshipman.”
“Um. Life support?”
“Wrong.” The lieutenant leaned in again, still looking amused. “It’s. A. Ship.”
“Ma’am?”
“Think about it. It’s not just semantics. There’s a lot that goes into operating a ship, even a littoral craft. You have to have technicians who know exactly what they’re doing, and are trained to operate on a very different command structure than what the Air Force uses. Have you ever thought about why we refer to enlisted by ratings instead of just ranks?”
“No, Ma’am.” Josh was confused by the rapid changes in conversation. “I can’t say I have.”
“I sense an opportunity for a research paper in your future, but I’ll give you the highlights. The Army has specialists too, but almost everything runs based on the idea that everyone in the unit can pick up a rifle and start shooting. The Navy is structured around running ships. It makes for some confusing org charts on bases, but they’re important on a ship because they’re based on the jobs the sailors actually do.
“Ships don’t run like they do on Star Trek. A warship is a thousand different jobs working together to make one whole, and doing it for months without touching ground. The Air Force doesn’t work like that. They’re organized around lots of ground crews supporting fighters and transports with single pilots and small crews that are in the air for, at most, less than twenty-four hours. Sure, the Space Force will be part of our presence in space. It’ll be the biggest part for a while, and that’s not a bad thing because the Air Force model is exactly what we need at first. Big ground crews supporting small craft on short missions. But we’ll need real ships patrolling the solar system. Eventually, once we figure out how the aliens move faster than light, we’ll even go to other stars.
“We’ll need the Navy up there. The Space Force?” Davis smiled again, predatory this time, her white teeth contrasting against her dark skin. “They’ll be the space version of the Coast Guard. Cloud jockeys huddling close to the planet while we go to the stars.”
She straightened, letting her face go back to the picture of a Navy officer. “So no, Midshipman. Your request for a transfer is denied. But I’ll offer you a different option.”
“Ma’am?”
“As it happens, I was already filling out paperwork when you came in. Would you like to see?” Davis twisted her monitor around before Josh could answer, revealing a form that, at first, looked like any other USN bureaucratic mess.
Obediently, Josh leaned closer. It took him a moment to realize his name was on the form; then his eyes widened as he realized what it was. “Annapolis!?”
“Every year, we can make recommendations for freshmen ROTC to transfer to the Naval Academy,” Davis told him. “You never made any indication that you wanted something other than the Reserves, but like you said, things changed. Annapolis has an excellent robotics program, and I can guarantee you that they’ll already be working on tooling up for orbital robotics, because I just got off the phone with them earlier. They’re looking for officers like you. You think you’re the first to realize how much things are going to change for the military? Boy, you have no idea how many back channels there are in the Navy, and we’ve been melting the lines. I’m making more Academy recommendations this month than I have in my entire time as an ROTC instructor. You’re not the first, and you’re not going to be the last. They’re going to be packing middies into Annapolis like sardines in a submarine.”
“You want me to be regular Navy?” Josh gaped at her. “But . . .”
“Can the buts, Midshipman.” Davis’ predatory smile was back. “You’re smart, and you thought this stuff up sooner than most, but you’re not that special. I’m not sending you to Annapolis as a reward. In fact, you might want to say no, because it’s not going to be easy. They’re going to work your stern until you have zero feeling, and they’ll expect you to keep going even faster. It’s going to be more brutal than anything you’ve ever experienced. More than I experienced when I was there. They’re going to be figuring this out on the fly, but that’s what the Navy does. Deep down inside, we’re still the same Navy that left with the tide on those first six ships, and we don’t come back to port until we’ve finished the mission. You want to make a difference? This is your best shot.”
Josh took a breath, feeling a little shaky. This wasn’t how he’d expected this to go. At first glance, there wasn’t much difference between the reserves and the regulars. Yeah, Navy Reserve Officers were subject to lower service requirements in times of peace, but like Lt. Davis said, the Navy wouldn’t be on a peacetime footing going forward. The reality, though, was that the regulars were considered different, and not just because of Presidential commissions. The US Naval Academy was a far more rigorous environment, and officers who came out of there were expected to perform to a much higher standard. The only way for a typical applicant to get considered was to be nominated by a member of Congress or the Vice President, or the President if already a Navy brat; but there was a limited number of nomination slots each year, and only some of them would get appointed to the Academy. Josh had already tried all three and hadn’t made the cut.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll –”
“Don’t give me your answer now, Collins.” Davis gave him a sharp look. “I’m serious about this being a huge decision. If things go as south as they could, the Reserve’s probably not going to be too much different from regular Navy soon; but no matter what things are about to hit the fan. You call your folks. Talk it over with them. Come back Monday or Tuesday.”
“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”
“Dismissed.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Josh stood, briefly came to attention, and left. His hand was already reaching for his cell phone to call his parents, like the LT had told him.
But he’d already made his decision.
