class of tactical ship by the Empire has
been rumored, but as this cannot be confirmed at present, this
entry must be considered tentative. Intelligence suggests that
these ships are designed to replace and upgrade several current
classes now considered obsolescent.
It has been suggested that these ships will bear the generic class
of BULKELEY. Development of this class is considered to be
under construction, with no information as to the number of
ships contracted for, commissioning dates, or deployment dates.
To repeat, All information must be considered quite tentative.
Sten figured that the editor of Jane's was practicing the age-old CYA, since the rest of the data was entirely too clotting accurate for his comfort:
CHARACTERISTICS:
TYPE: Fleet patrol craft
LENGTH: 90 meters est. (actually 97 meters)
D: Approx. 1400 fl.
CREW: Unknown
ARMAMENT: Unknown, but theorized to be far heavier than any other ships in this category.
The rest of the entry was a long string of unknowns. Sten could have filled in the details.
Each ship carried a crew of twelve: three officers'—CO, weapons/XO, engineering—and nine enlisted men.
And they were heavily armed.
For close-in fighting, there were two chainguns. Medium-range combat would be handled by eight launchers firing Goblin VI missiles, now upgraded with better "brains" and a 10-kt capacity. There were three Goblins for each launcher.
For defense there was a limited countermissile capability—five Fox-class missiles—but a very elaborate electronic countermeasure suite.
Bulkeley ships were intended either to sneak in unnoticed or to cut and run if hit. But the Bulkeley class craft were designed as ship killers.
Main armament was the Kali—a heavy, 60-megaton missile that was almost twenty meters long. Packed inside the missile's bulbous skin was a computer nearly as smart as a ship's and an exotic ECM setup. The missile was launched in a tube that extended down the ship's axis. Three backup missiles were racked around the launch tube.
Crew space, given all this artillery and the monstrous engines, was laughable. The captain's cabin was about the size of a wall closet, with pull-down desk and bunk. It was the most private compartment on the ship, actually having a draw curtain to separate the CO from the rest of the men. The other two officers bunked together, in a cabin exactly the size of the captain's. The crew bunks were ranked on either side of the ship's largest compartment, which doubled as rec room, mess hall, and kitchen.
The only cat that could have been swung inside the ship would have been a Manx—a Manx kitten.
Big deal. If Sten had wanted luxury, he would have opted for Bishop's plan and flown BUCs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
S tandard obscenity procedure: When an officer arrives at his new duty station, he reports to his new commanding officer.
In the Guard this had meant that one was to show up at the unit's orderly room in semidress uniform. Officer and his new fearless leader would size each other up; the newcomer would be given his new responsibilities and whatever trick tips the old man chose to pass on and set in motion.
The navy, Sten had learned, was slightly more formal.
The "invitation" to meet Admiral van Doorman had been hand delivered. And was printed. On real paper. That, Sten figured, meant full-dress uniform. Whites. Gloves. Clot, even a haircut.
By scurrying and bribing, Sten had gotten the batman assigned to his temporary bachelor officer's quarters to electrostat-press his uniform and borrow or steal a pair of white gloves from someone. The haircut was easy, since Sten kept his hair about two centimeters from shaven.
The card requested the pleasure of his company at 1400 hours. Sten gave himself an extra hour for the civilian grav-car to wind through the packed streets of Cavite City. Even then, he arrived at the main entrance to the naval base with only twenty minutes to spare.
His mouth dropped when the sentry at
been rumored, but as this cannot be confirmed at present, this
entry must be considered tentative. Intelligence suggests that
these ships are designed to replace and upgrade several current
classes now considered obsolescent.
It has been suggested that these ships will bear the generic class
of BULKELEY. Development of this class is considered to be
under construction, with no information as to the number of
ships contracted for, commissioning dates, or deployment dates.
To repeat, All information must be considered quite tentative.
Sten figured that the editor of Jane's was practicing the age-old CYA, since the rest of the data was entirely too clotting accurate for his comfort:
CHARACTERISTICS:
TYPE: Fleet patrol craft
LENGTH: 90 meters est. (actually 97 meters)
D: Approx. 1400 fl.
CREW: Unknown
ARMAMENT: Unknown, but theorized to be far heavier than any other ships in this category.
The rest of the entry was a long string of unknowns. Sten could have filled in the details.
Each ship carried a crew of twelve: three officers'—CO, weapons/XO, engineering—and nine enlisted men.
And they were heavily armed.
For close-in fighting, there were two chainguns. Medium-range combat would be handled by eight launchers firing Goblin VI missiles, now upgraded with better "brains" and a 10-kt capacity. There were three Goblins for each launcher.
For defense there was a limited countermissile capability—five Fox-class missiles—but a very elaborate electronic countermeasure suite.
Bulkeley ships were intended either to sneak in unnoticed or to cut and run if hit. But the Bulkeley class craft were designed as ship killers.
Main armament was the Kali—a heavy, 60-megaton missile that was almost twenty meters long. Packed inside the missile's bulbous skin was a computer nearly as smart as a ship's and an exotic ECM setup. The missile was launched in a tube that extended down the ship's axis. Three backup missiles were racked around the launch tube.
Crew space, given all this artillery and the monstrous engines, was laughable. The captain's cabin was about the size of a wall closet, with pull-down desk and bunk. It was the most private compartment on the ship, actually having a draw curtain to separate the CO from the rest of the men. The other two officers bunked together, in a cabin exactly the size of the captain's. The crew bunks were ranked on either side of the ship's largest compartment, which doubled as rec room, mess hall, and kitchen.
The only cat that could have been swung inside the ship would have been a Manx—a Manx kitten.
Big deal. If Sten had wanted luxury, he would have opted for Bishop's plan and flown BUCs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
S tandard obscenity procedure: When an officer arrives at his new duty station, he reports to his new commanding officer.
In the Guard this had meant that one was to show up at the unit's orderly room in semidress uniform. Officer and his new fearless leader would size each other up; the newcomer would be given his new responsibilities and whatever trick tips the old man chose to pass on and set in motion.
The navy, Sten had learned, was slightly more formal.
The "invitation" to meet Admiral van Doorman had been hand delivered. And was printed. On real paper. That, Sten figured, meant full-dress uniform. Whites. Gloves. Clot, even a haircut.
By scurrying and bribing, Sten had gotten the batman assigned to his temporary bachelor officer's quarters to electrostat-press his uniform and borrow or steal a pair of white gloves from someone. The haircut was easy, since Sten kept his hair about two centimeters from shaven.
The card requested the pleasure of his company at 1400 hours. Sten gave himself an extra hour for the civilian grav-car to wind through the packed streets of Cavite City. Even then, he arrived at the main entrance to the naval base with only twenty minutes to spare.
His mouth dropped when the sentry at
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