by Chris Hechtl
“We are the front lines, like Senka, sir; I get that. But we are the tip of the spear. We need to be sharp; we need to be ready. We need to throw them back to make them think twice about coming again.”
The arrival of marine forces with Bounty and Damocles had been an incredible boon. Commander Harris and Lieutenant Commander McGuyver had rubbed him the wrong way initially, but he could respect the pair of fire-eaters for what they were. It was unfortunate perhaps that Commander Harris wouldn't be with him long; the man was slated for a battle cruiser command within six months. At least, he might get the man and his ship back. Might, he thought darkly.
He wasn't at all keen about the Fletcher XXI class destroyer First Lieutenant Jory Gray had pitched. Apparently he had pitched it to Commander Wong who had been busy and wrapped up with the Xeno Wraith mess. Wong had idly mentioned the design to Lieutenant Fletcher who had been amused but had taken a look at the design. Apparently the AI had seen enough potential in the design to forward it to Admiral Irons and Commander Sindri. Both officers had taken a keen interest in it.
The Fletcher XXI was to be the twenty-first in a long line of Fletcher class destroyers … if it got off the drawing board. Lieutenant Gray had taken the basics of a tin can, added modern hardware, then stripped her down to the bare bones necessary to have a fighting ship. She was a no frills design without a marine compliment and with little crew comfort. She was designed to be operated with a small crew however, so that was something.
If he had his numbers right, they could churn out a Fletcher at about half the rate they could an Arboth. If they saved the fitting out for the crew to do on station or in transit, they could shave weeks off that time. They wouldn't be as heavily armed as an Arboth, but they would have numbers on their side. It was a tempting thought. He shook his head and set the thought aside for another time. He turned his eyes to the blue green orb.
The marines had immediately gone to work on the planet, pacifying any remaining Horathians. Resistance had been stiff but then dropped off magically as the marines poured in.
There had been some odd reports, however, like the one about “El Diablo.” Things were finally shaping up on the planet though, so much so that he was allowing a few volunteers a chance of a liberty. Major Pendeckle's battalion had finished what Major White Wolf's forces had … no, that wasn't right. Captain Gustav had started the drop but had been killed before he'd hit dirt. Lieutenant Ebensher had been the one to hang onto the space around the spaceport. White Wolf had been the one to make that toehold into a proper landing, her and Gunny McClintock. According to the scuttlebutt, the gunny had earned two warring nicknames among the enemy: the Black Devil and the Black Ghost. He could understand that.
The major and gunny had returned with her surviving forces to Kathy's World to bury their dead. From what he had heard, they had orders to report to Agnosta for reassignment. According to the ansible report, he'd read the major was taking the time to assemble additional recruits for the marines and army from the planet's population. Major White Wolf would remain with the transports until a suitable escort could be arranged to get them through B-452C space to Agnosta, though he was fairly confident the picket in that empty star system would suffice to warn them if any pirates came calling.
He wasn't thrilled about the hiccup in the fighter production run in Antigua, but he grudgingly understood the need. The marines had desperately needed assault shuttles and attack craft to support the landings and hadn't had it. Now it was in the pipeline. A little late, they wouldn't bring back the dead, but there was something to be said about the burnt hand ….
“Look, Amadeus, I know you want more. Trust me; we're working on it. But I have a lot of irons in the fire.”
“I need enough mines for both jump points, plus additional forces in Kathy's World. And I want to start seeding mines in B-95a3 to slow the pirates down there,” Amadeus stated.
It was annoying to see his words turned into text in front of his eyes and then sent out through the narrow bandwidth of the ansible. They needed to work on that, one of a million things to do. He'd heard that Phil and John had some sort of avatar system they were testing. He hoped they'd send him a copy some time. Apparently his link didn't have enough bandwidth to transmit voice. That sucked.
“If we mine the Nuevo Madrid and the B-97a jump points in B-95a3, we can hit any incoming shipping. They wouldn't know what was happening until they were dust,” Amadeus stated.
“I'm not happy about hitting civilian shipping in the area,” Admiral Irons replied back. “If there are ships in the area, they will be destroyed.”
“With all due respect, sir, you are dreaming if you think that anything passing through the system isn't controlled by the enemy,” Amadeus replied, fighting to keep from rolling his eyes. Economic blockades were a part of war. John should know that. And sometimes you had to break a few eggs to get the job done.
“I don't know. You don't know. The ships are running slow, the lowest octaves of alpha in some cases. Ships could be in transit between systems for years and not know what was going on. One can hope they were overlooked. Recon the system if you think you can spare a ship. It is up to you, Amadeus.”
“Yes, sir. I already have. Hecate is there now.”
“I know. I thought she would have returned by now though.” John said and then let that rebuke go. “I'll send you more mines instead of weapon platforms then,” he said. Amadeus opened his mouth to protest but John wasn't finished. “But remember, I can't send you a lot of mines. Use them wisely. Throwing them at two jump points there as well as in the jump point in Protodon would thin them out.”
Amadeus gave an unseen nod as he considered that. What John was sending him would barely give him coverage for one additional shoal of mines on the jump point in Protodon. Sending a couple dozen to the neighboring system would be wasteful. They'd also have to leave a ship behind to keep watch over them, one at each jump point. That would mean having ships coming and going all the time which would eat into his fuel and his ships and crews. He rubbed his brow in frustration.
Hecate and the other frigates could only stay there so long he thought. He was proud that Hecate had done so many tours as she had. He needed to keep his destroyers concentrated, not out in penny packets picketing the empty star system. That was what a frigate was for anyway. He shook his head as he rejected the idea. “Yes, sir. And we'd alert them that something was going on in the area, something to beware of. Understood, sir. I was just thinking out loud.”
“No, you were forward thinking. You are right. We're just not there yet. We are getting there. I am going to set up a dedicated factory to produce mines and weapon platforms in the next quarter. Sprite and the staff are working on adjusting that now,” he stated.
“I bet Sindri is just overjoyed by that, sir,” Amadeus stated with a tight grin.
“He's still after me to step up the pace and jump to cruisers. I'm not ready to commit to that yet. We've got too many fires and not enough firemen to man them all. But we will. And while they and you are busy acting as the cork in the bottle, we'll be turning out more ships to back you up.”
Amadeus grimaced. He could use a couple cruisers right about now he thought, not the escort carrier he'd been promised. “Yes, sir. It is getting lonely here. I've got the fighter group running working-up exercises, but they could use a proper platform to do the job off of,” he said. He shook his head again. His engineers had requested that they be allowed to tow a rock to the B-95a3 jump point so they could hollow it out and use it as a fortress. He hadn't signed off on the idea since it would have taken a massive amount of fuel and time, not to mention resources to pull off. Resources he didn't have or at least not enough of.
“You keep poaching my best pilots,” Amadeus grumbled, “and replacing them with greenhorns who can barely fly.”
“Which is why you train them until it becomes instinct. The next supply convoy is still on schedule. Make sure you get them unloaded and turned around ASAP,
” John texted back.
“We could use some more facilities on this end to do that or more vacuum-proof cargo pods,” Amadeus suggested. He had stores on the jump point as well as in orbit and on the planet. He had even authorized his people to put small stashes of fuel and weapons in the thin asteroid belt. But it wasn't enough, never enough. Now Harris was on his hairy ass about a live fire exercise! He shook his head. “That way they could be kicked out and then tacked together in a bundle for easy storage and handling.”
He didn't like the long shuttle flights to the planet. They hadn't lost a shuttle in months but two had taken ground fire last month while on approach to the spaceport and one was still on the ground waiting for repair parts. That made eight hits since the invasion and three shuttle losses. Fortunately, no casualties recently but the enemy was getting better … or just ready to take on more risk to take a shuttle out or more desperate he thought.
“Hmm,” Irons murmured. “I'll look into it. In the meantime, get with your ship engineers. They have the blueprints on file. See if you can pick up some rocks and build some field facilities on your end.”
“We've done that,” Amadeus said. “It's not enough.”
“Then expand it,” John replied.
“More work for my people?” Amadeus responded. He didn't like that idea. His engineers had enough on their plates keeping their ships functional. “I'm not thrilled about pulling ships off of their deployments to do that, sir.”
“Some work in their spare time. Put a detachment together in a shuttle then or however you see fit to work it. I'll put a memo in to get you a tug and a small Spacebee group to lend you a hand when I can. When Commander V'rn'th finishes up in Senka, I'll send her people your way,” he said soothingly.
Amadeus nodded. Having a dedicated engineering team on hand would be a major relief. They should have thought of it earlier. He grimaced, remembering none were in the pipeline though.
Everyone was working flat out in Antigua. Perhaps there had been a new draft from the latest convoy from Pyrax? Or one coming in? He shook his head. No, they were down on personnel transfers because the transports had come to Protodon of course! And they were still stuck in Kathy's World since John didn't want to risk them in B-452C. He shook his head and then shrugged. “Thank you, sir. That would be much appreciated—in space and on the ground.”
“All right. Anything else?”
“About the transports. I suggest you coordinate them. Put the …,” Amadeus frowned, plucking at his lower lip before he got his thoughts together. “Pull the frigate Rose off picket duty there and have her escort them to B-452C. Have the picket in Agnosta time it so they arrive at their jump point in the star system at the same time. Then just send the ships over. They should be safe enough.”
“Good idea. I'll pass it along. Antigua signing off.”
---<>---<>---
“You think this will work?” Doctor Thornby asked, looking at Admiral Irons.
“It'll work. You're here to make it work, Doctor. Figure it out,” the admiral said. “You and Matilda,” the admiral said, nodding to the woman next to the doctor.
“I know we can make it work. We've done it once,” Matilda replied with a shrug. “But getting the training centers on the island will be interesting. I've never been on a planet.”
“It should be a new experience for you. For both of you,” the admiral said with a nod to both women. “And you've gotten your immunization shots, right?” Both women nodded. “Fine then.”
“So, how much support should I expect?”
“Get down there, do the survey, then come up with a wish list. We'll talk then.”
“A wish list.”
“Yes, hospital, administration building, college, classrooms …,” Sprite suggested from the small holographic projector near the admiral's elbow.
“Okay. And the labs and facilities for the resurrection project. I've been keeping up to date with the Seti project. I understand we're getting somewhere. Finally,” she said.
“Yes. I don't know the details though. I've got my fingers crossed,” the admiral admitted.
“We'll need an architect, engineer … an entire team,” Matilda said, cocking her head in thought. The admiral could see the wheels already turning. “Communications to the stations … I suppose we can poach from the college if we want ….”
“Don't let them hear you say that,” Doctor Thornby said dryly. “Staff?”
“Medical staff in system. Start with them then get me a list.”
“Okay, you're being pretty freewheeling about all this, you know that, right?”
“To be honest the medical side isn't my specialty, Doc,” the admiral replied. “That's on you.”
“Ah. Well, I'm glad I took that stop in Agnosta and Triang then,” Doctor Thornby replied with a nod.
“Me too. It allowed me to catch up,” Matilda replied. “Shall we?”
“I don't know, shall we?” Doctor Thornby asked, turning her attention to the admiral. “And are you free for lunch or dinner sometime?”
John blinked at her then snorted when Sprite turned a grin his way. “I suppose,” he said.
“Good,” Nara replied with a satisfied smile. Matilda grinned as well. “That way we can catch up on old times.”
“If you say so,” the admiral replied dubiously. He knew when he was outnumbered. It wasn't fair; he was the senior officer yet the ladies already had him ducking and covering. “Okay, let Sprite know when you're here, and we'll try to arrange the schedules to match. But I warn you, I'm pretty busy.”
“Servicing replicators, dealing with various people, dropping to the planet to play politics, going to the station to visit April, or speak at the college … yeah. He's heavily booked,” Sprite said. “But I think I can pencil you in … now?”
“Now?” Matilda asked, delighted.
“Sure, why not? He needs to eat lunch,” Sprite said mendaciously.
“Um …” All three females turned on the admiral. Nara raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay,” he held up his hands in surrender. “I know when I'm outvoted and outnumbered,” he laughed.
“Wise man,” Matilda murmured with a smile.
Chapter 24
Despite losing Bismark things were looking up Admiral Subert thought. He was cautiously optimistic about the future now that his first division of battle cruisers were working up. It had been a long time coming he had to admit.
He didn't want to admit it but perhaps Doctor Taylor had been right. He was still having a few issues with time shock, and adjusting to the new time period was hard on him. He'd gambled a bit before but he hadn't hit the casinos as often as he did in Pyrax, for instance. That was what had twigged him that he had a problem, but he'd initially chalked it up to a gambling addiction.
The doctor had told him it was natural to feel a bit of loss, to be depressed and adrift. He understood the theory, but accepting it had taken time. At least he hadn't gotten into taking unnecessary risks or expressed his depression in other ways. And the doctor could chalk up his adversity with the old staff to that, but he knew better. The place had needed a good shaking out.
Fortunately, he had people like Saul who were also going through the same thing. Saul was buried in his work; that was how he was dealing with the problem. But that was only putting it off; it wasn't solving it. It was also causing stress fractures in the man; the admiral had been so afraid he would crack that he'd forced the other man to take a week of leave on the Oasis of Space. When Saul had returned, he'd been different, calmer, more in control of himself once more. He'd also gotten a girlfriend. The admiral snorted. He wished the man all the luck with that. Some women were trouble, pure and simple.
He'd finally taken a hard look at Horatio Logan. To have done what he had done … and he was a sleeper too. He could understand some of the man now he thought. Which was why the two men were together having beers on the one-year anniversary of his arrival in Pyrax.
Alcohol and other recreational dr
ugs were known to loosen people up, loosen tongues. He hoped it would get them over the wall they had built between themselves. Horatio didn't know it, but he wasn't going to remain in his position for much longer. Phil estimated that it would be another year, perhaps less, before he was promoted and sent somewhere else. Most likely to run the Spacebees, he thought.
And that would be a shame because the old man was good at his job. Damn good. And he'd miss that. His work on the Liberty, Victory, marine transport, and new destroyer designs was excellent. He also hadn't shirked getting the yard up and running once Phil had cracked the whip. Oh, maybe a bit of foot dragging but not as much as he'd expected.
He just wished John would pick a damn destroyer design so they could mass produce them. They were about out of Nelsons, so that was a good thing in some ways. But apparently he'd recently signed off on building the new Fletcher XXI design instead of his own vaunted Shield Maiden.
Apparently, he was lauding the designer a Lieutenant Gray for his work and for pitching it to Lieutenant Commander Wong, Commander Sindri, and others. The group had built the design using as much off-the-shelf components as possible. Seventy percent of her design came from the Nelson flight VI family. She had a diamond cluster of frigate engines in her rear. The smaller engines should have made her slow, but their high number meant she could keep up with other ships in her class.
He could see the uses. The Fletcher was to be a fleet destroyer, a balanced platform with her two cruiser grade turrets, six point defense phasers, and four rail guns. Since she had cell-based counter missiles, she had the fire control suite from an Arboth. She could handle swarms of missiles. He could see Lieutenant Commander Wong and Captain Lyon's hand in that since they'd also added hard points to allow the ship to take on missile pods, defense or weapon drones, or other modular systems without sacrificing her firing arcs. She'd be one hell of a ship once they got one in space.
John's Shield Maiden on the other hand was a defense ship. A take-off of the Nelson in many respects, great for defending fleets or convoys but not for much else. She sacrificed a lot of her offensive armament to do the job, which made her have quite a few detractors. It was odd; John wasn't known for building specialists. If he had to pick which ship he'd have, it'd be a Fletcher, and he'd made that point to John in their last discussion, which was why the ship's design had been fast tracked and the Antigua yard had already started to lay the first prototype ship down.