Ghosts from the Past (The Wandering engineer Book 7)

by Chris Hechtl

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully and then nodded slowly. “I don't see a safe way to move them, Admiral,” she warned.

  “Oh, I think they can be moved. Once we secure the space lane between Antigua and Pyrax you'll have all sorts of options. And you can always head south to B-450a if you choose,” he suggested.

  She frowned and then shrugged. “I'll take that under advisement, sir. Sorry to bother you,” she said. She nodded again and cut her end of the link.

  “She declined, how thoughtful,” Sprite said sarcastically. “I wonder what did it, the fact that we're here watching or that she'd have to pay back what she owed? After already spending it?” She asked.

  “Now now, be nice,” the admiral said. “It could be altruism, but I doubt it. It could also be curiosity, but I doubt that too.”

  “So that leaves plain naked greed. Well, at least she's consistent.”

  The admiral snorted.

  “I have been meaning to ask. Why did we come here anyway, sir?”

  “To make up for lost time,” Irons replied. “And I wanted options. Going to Protodon didn't give me what I wanted,” he explained.

  “I see,” Sprite replied.

  “I wanted to go to Protodon to relieve the people there, but it would have bogged us down further,” he said with a heavy sigh. The decision was no doubt going to haunt him he thought with a pang.

  “I see. You don't like the movements?” Sprite said carefully.

  “I think things are moving faster than I predicted. A lot faster,” Irons said, looking at the files Sprite had up on his HUD. According to the spy satellite a lot of ships had passed through the cross roads; some very recently like the Clydesdale they'd just captured. They had picked up many friendly IFFs. Horatio had sent three convoys to Antigua, the last passing through the system only a week ahead of them. But several unidentified ships had also passed through for the Centennial jump point and beyond less than five days prior; a day after Convoy 3 had jumped. They had hauled ass across the system and then jumped to Briev.

  At least six of the unidentified ships the recon satellite had picked up had the energy signature and mass of a significant warship. Since they didn't have an IFF on the ships, that meant they were most likely pirates. That didn't bode well for people on the other side of the Centennial jump point and beyond he thought darkly. Places like Epsilon Triangula he thought.

  “I checked the fingerprints and recognized one of the civilians, sir. It looks like we just missed Lieandra, sir. And another ship, smaller that came from a group that had passed through Kathy's world. They both went on to Briev.” Sprite reported.

  Irons grunted. Lieandra had jumped out two days before their arrival. The other ship, according to the mass readings she was small, around 50 to 70 thousand tons, had jumped right on her heels. He didn't like the sign of that.

  “Think they are being chased?”

  “Or it could be a small freighter or yacht like Prinz Zir or Caribbean Queen,” the admiral reminded her. “Let's not jump to conclusions just yet thank you.”

  “Yes sir. Once, twice, but three times enemy action?”

  “I know, I know,” he said impatiently, waving her reminder aside. “I get it, I get it. We'll see what we can do. The good news is Lieandra should be able to outrun her.”

  “Now who's jumping to conclusions, sir? We don't know Lieandra's fuel state, sir,” she reminded him.

  “Bitch bitch. I prefer my cup half full if you don't mind. I can't go around thinking everyone is out to get me. Being a paranoid is no way to live.”

  “No sir, but even paranoids have enemies,” Sprite said. “And I believe, going off your vital signs and the lip movement you are exhibiting at the moment that you've been playing devil's advocate this entire time. To get my goat? A little hoisted on my own petard?” She asked mildly.

  “Maybe,” he chuckled slightly then sobered. “But we can still hope for the best.” His tone darkened. “While we plan for the worst.”

  “That's more like it, Admiral,” Sprite replied with approval. He nodded curtly.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The admiral stood at the back of the small bridge, watching the ship's functions. Captain Sangnuil ran a tight ship. They were under stealth; in fact that was the only reason they were alive. He shook his head. The light cruiser had traded most of her offensive weapons for the best cloak and long legs. She was a glorified transport, but one with an important, some would think vital purpose Irons thought.

  Even from where he was standing the image of the system was vivid. The bridge watch had witnessed the picket's gallant last charge and snarled softly. Now they were watching a planet burn and it brought about an intense helpless feeling. He shook his head.

  It sucked; it really did. They had just finished their mission and woke to a nightmare as they returned to the rest of the galaxy. The Errant Venture was his transport back to civilization, none of them counted on this. Apparently the Xenos were moving faster than anyone had predicted.

  He wished now he'd managed to convince the admiralty to post a force in the system. A nodule force, a fleet. But no, they didn't have any to spare. They were scraping up what they could, but they flat out refused to uncover the core systems. This was then the result.

  EV's skipper was a good sort, a damn good dolphin. He'd gotten the ship in through the nasty channel leading to the isolated star system quite easily. Getting out had been a touch harder. The turbulence had been rough, but they'd managed it.

  Once he'd completed his mission there they'd carefully exited the area in time to witness the Xeno fleet's rampage through the sector on a course for the inner sectors. “They know where to go. They've got our maps. They know what systems to avoid and which to hit. Which is why they are hitting here,” Irons said, nodding his head to Senka. The Xeno fleet had easily squashed the light picket that had been patrolling the system. They were already marshaling near the jump point to head to the HD 61347, the O class star that led deeper into the galaxy.

  “Is this their only force?” Captain Sagnuil asked.

  “Spirits of space I hope so,” the tactical officer whispered. “If it isn't we're screwed.”

  “They are headed inward. I don't know if they have any other fleets; if they did then they may have headed to the Tauren sector, Sigma, or other sectors,” she said.

  “We'll stop them. We've got to get the Intel back on where they are first. And let the Federation know we've got a base behind enemy lines that we can use,” the captain said. He eyed the admiral. “For a raiding base, Admiral?”

  Irons nodded. “That was the general idea, a place we can use for resupply of raiders to hit their logistics train while the fleet got its collective act together,” he said. The dolphin blew a raspberry then nodded as he turned away.

  “They aren't destroying everything; this is just too far out,” the admiral insisted. He was pretty sure they'd leave some planets behind them to use as staging grounds and resupply points. They had to right? He nodded to himself. Of course they did he thought. “This is their beachhead. They'll go further in to the galaxy from here,” he explained to the senior staff.

  “I hope you're right, sir,” Lieutenant Rich “Richy” Bochel said doubtfully.

  “Trust me, they don't want to be bogged down here. Every day they are here means we have time to respond. To send a force here to pin them up, bog them down near the jump points. They want to get inside our perimeter, to hit our vulnerable areas,” the admiral explained.

  “Sir, how do you know that?” Richy demanded, turning to face him.

  “Because, that's what I'd do son,” the admiral smiled thinly. The young man blinked. Irons pointed a finger to the star map. “It's classic warfare. Get in behind the lines and destroy the enemies’ ability to fight. Hit their logistics, chew up their population centers, and break their will. They usually do it by crushing an opposing force beforehand though.”

  “So how do we stop it?”

  “We don't,�
�� he insisted grimly. “We're a small light cruiser son, we can't go toe to toe with those big boys,” Irons said, pointing to the giant alien ships rampaging through the system unchecked. He was glad the captain was keeping the ship in stealth outside the star system. Getting through the enemy lines and back to friendly space would be tricky.

  “Sir, the main fleet is moving out as you said. But a couple of the ships are throwing rocks at the planet. It's an orbital bombardment, sir,” the sensor rating said.

  The admiral paled. He'd thought they'd pass the population by. He shook his head in disbelief. Didn't they know where this would lead? Destroying the planet's population would horrify the Federation when the news hit ... he frowned, remembering what he said to the lieutenant about breaking the enemies will. It would cause a great deal of hysteria in congress. Planets would clamor for support. He closed his eyes, picturing what was coming.

  “Sir, can't we do something?” He turned to see the helpless rage, the impotence etched in Richy's face.

  “Unfortunately son, no. Not a god damn thing,” Irons ground out, turning away from the tear streaked face. He felt intensely uncomfortable about the other officer's loss of composure but understood it. The entire trip to the jump point he stood there, at the view screen and refused to leave. He couldn't help but not watch; it was his penance. This was his fault, and he'd either have to live with the guilt or find a way to turn it against the damn Xenos.

  When he woke he realized immediately why he'd had the dream. He was haunted by the decision to leave Protodon out on the limb, under occupation. No doubt thousands were dying and suffering there daily. He scowled as he rose to his feet. He'd lost Richy; the life had been sucked completely out of the kid after seeing that horror. He just couldn't handle it; he'd transferred out the moment they'd gotten back to fleet. He couldn't blame the lad.

  He remembered having to do that all too often while leading a fleet during the early phases of the Xeno war, having to have to watch and preserve what he had to fight smart. It had sucked a piece of his soul away each time too. That was why he'd switched back to engineering and infrastructure; he had to get away from it before he'd lost himself completely and cost a lot of lives. He'd gotten stuck a time or two defending seemingly important star systems before they'd put him back on the offensive. Then he'd gotten into the Nova project out of desperation. His time with that at the research instillation had led him to participate in a few other highly classified projects, including Trinity.

  He frowned, looking up with blank eyes to the bulkhead above. He stared into the lights, not really seeing them. Sometimes he wondered what the spirits of space had done, the irony involved in being turned into ... well this, he thought, looking down at his right arm. He flexed his hand a few times, then did a couple curls, watching the arm move. What lengths he'd gone to achieve this ... and it hadn't mattered in the end had it? He clenched his fist again. No, not a damn thing he thought with anger. Instead of being the weapon that could help win the war, or at least survival, he'd been trapped in a damn stasis pod.

  He realized he was angry, angry at the universe, at the pirates and most importantly at himself. Unfortunately there was little he could do about worlds like Protodon or Hidoshi or Richalu or the countless others near Horath. For the time being, they were on their own.

  He lean against a bulkhead support, resting his forearm there for the moment. He stared out into the virtual window into the darkness. Sometimes he hated his job he thought. Sometimes no matter what decision he came to, someone suffered. He knew he'd never rid himself of the guilt. Not completely.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Sprite finished reading the hydroponics report and signed off on it. The plants were growing well; that was what it boiled down to. They'd had a couple of problems until they'd gotten the lighting, temperature, humidity, and nutritional mix just right. Many of the crew stopped in to get a whiff and enjoy the greenery. Most of the Neos found some excuse to stop by the deck to get a sniff and peek. More than one had seemed a little homesick before or afterward.

  The ships had picked up seeds wherever possible, and some thrifty people had even saved seeds from fruits and vegetables that had been sent from the various worlds they had visited. Sprite looked forward to the steward's newest recipe. The admiral didn't know it but he was in for a treat; she'd made chili. Cookie was very open to expanding the admiral's horizons from the simple food he seemed to favor.

  Apparently chili and other hot spicy dishes, along with hot drinks were quiet popular on Kathy's world. Hot buttered rum or vodka had been the staple drink during winter when beer wasn't available. She was curious as to his reaction when he tried the chili out. It should be ... interesting, she thought with anticipation. At the very least it should keep him awake for a bit. It may even spark a nice argument that would allow him to blow off some of the tension that was bothering him she thought. He needed to blow off, to get whatever was on his chest off. He was getting bottled up, closing her out. A good shouting match would be fun she thought, though she'd have to remember his superior rank. That was, when he finally found his voice again to speak, she thought with a virtual grin.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “How are we doing, Gunny?” Major Gustov asked, looking at the senior noncom. There had been some resentment from the Neos and aliens from Kathy's World when they had found out the noncom and a lot of the marine leadership were humans. He'd explained patiently that they were the few survivors from Bounty, but that hadn't stuck. He'd finally decided to ignore it for the most part. They'd settled down once the training had kicked in.

  They still weren't getting the training like the veteran marines from Pyrax and Agnosta grumbled about, but it was as close as they could right now. Perhaps in time they'd improve upon it. For now, he'd take what he could get.

  “We're doin well, Major, fair to middling on a few things. We've got a lot of rough edges, but with time they are being picked off and smoothed over,” the gunny replied.

  “That's good news then,” the major replied with a nod. “And our worst offenders?”

  “Either laying low, doing scut work like inventory or KP, or too busy to be a pain in my ass, sir,” the gunny replied. The major snorted. “I've got them on boarding exercises now. I don't expect them to get the chance between here and Antigua, but then again, you never know,” the gunny said with a shrug.

  The major nodded.

  “I'm thinkin if we can convince the brass maybe we could sim a planetary invasion, sir?”

  The major frowned thoughtfully and then pulled on his ear. “A bit too tough to pull off,” he said. “I like it, but we don't have the resources for that sort of evolution, Gunny,” he said.

  “Maybe a raid? Hit and fade? Or take the Intel and report from Lieutenant Lewis and what we did at Hidoshi and replay it?”

  “Living the glories of the past, Gunny?” the major asked. He shook his head. “No, I doubt we have the computer support for that level of a sim. Not now.”

  “Damn,” the gunny sighed, making a face.

  “It's one thing to turn our people loose in a cargo bay or boat bay to simulate a boarding exercise. It's another to run them through that powerful a sim. Most of the computers are in use with other things,” the officer explained.

  “I know, sir. I just thought it'd be nice to get a bigger picture,” the gunny explained.

  “Well, we can figure something out. It'd have to be point and shoot though. A shoot house.”

  “That sucks. It's not fair that the navy gets all the good toys, sir,” the gunny grumbled.

  “Don't whine; it's not proper for a marine,” the major said mildly. “And that's how the navy is run. They save the best for themselves. Get used to it. No one ever said life in the corps would be easy or fair,” he said. The gunny nodded.

  “CTF is getting old, sir,” the gunny said, making a face. “One on one might be good; we could use it to develop some of the junior leadership's skills. Perhaps a couple platoon ex
ercises though I don't think we can get that many bodies in such a confined space,” he mused. The major shook his head no. He'd already been warned to keep the general mayhem down to a dull roar. “Otherwise I'm going to have to resort to marches and hell, football games to keep our people busy,” he said.

  “Well, if capture the flag isn't enough, I'm sure I can whip something up,” the major said, clapping the noncom on the shoulder and then giving it a squeeze. “If nothing else we can have them polishing the brass before we do a full IG inspection,” he said.

  The gunny turned a horrified look his way. The major let go and walked away chuckling to himself.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Sprite took a different route with training once the noobs had their feet under them. For the first time each of the ships could be considered fully manned and properly staffed. They still had a long ways to go, but her job as the admiral's chief of staff was to forge the raw blade into something he could wield with precision properly.

  As they transited the system, she set up a daily match between the fighters, some of them virtual, others in real space. She kept track of the pilot's standings in a forum board that she kept publicly available to engineer some competition among the pilots and ship companies.

  The ship's companies couldn't drill together or against one another while in hyper, but they could train individually while they waited. The ship's captains had been infected with her zest for training and it showed; now that they were in real space they were trotting out more complex moves against one another. Some were a bit cruder than she would have liked. A few had failed like a house of cards, but they were better, much, much better.

  She also set up a more complex drill for the fleet near the end of the week. She announced it beforehand to let them research the parameters and come up with strategies and ideas on their own. These she passed on to the admiral without reading to keep the scenario fair.