First Strike

Lieutenant Commander Moore’s commanding officer once described convoy escort duty as nothing more than herding cattle. Freighters of all shapes and sizes filled with fuel, food, and spare parts, the lifeblood of the outer colonies, followed close behind the warship. Until they become self-sufficient, which Moore knew could take decades, the colonists and military detachments on the far-flung borders of the ever-expanding human colonization of space needed constant re-supplying.

It was the third watch aboard the Terran Star Ship—Raleigh, and Moore, as second officer, was on duty on the bridge. The Raleigh was a light cruiser armed only with guided missiles for engaging targets and anti-missile batteries for defence, not that she had fired a weapon outside of training since she had been commissioned nearly twenty years ago. Aside from the occasional skirmish with rebellious colonists or acts of piracy, the Terran Fleet had not fought a war in almost a century.

Moore sipped his coffee as he paced around the bridge. A tall, thoughtful man, Moore had never intended to make a career out of military service; however, after twelve years of service, he did not see a good reason to change professions. He turned his head and studied the tactical display on the main viewing screen. There were two dozen dots on the screen, each indicating the exact location of the ships in the convoy trailing closely behind the Raleigh. He had made the run from the supply depot in orbit above Valerin-7 to the outer colonies four times in the past year.

It was becoming routine and dull. He had asked for a transfer, hoping to do something more exciting, but had been turned down. He would have to finish his two-year assignment on the Raleigh before moving on.

On duty with him were three other people: Lieutenant Takeda, the navigator, Chief Petty Officer Murphy, the helmsman, and Petty Officer Ramirez, the ship’s communications officer. They were halfway through their watch when one of the vessels in the convoy reported that they were having engine difficulties and asked if the Raleigh could cut her speed slightly so she wouldn’t be left behind.

Moore nodded and then asked the navigator to re-compute their arrival time at Tyr-431, a barren rocky planet used as a military surveillance station monitoring the Disputed Zone.