by Chris Hechtl
“No, get it out of your system. I plan to at any rate,” the captain said. “Damn it …”
“Here,” the XO said. He went over and grabbed a towel and tossed it to the skipper.
“Thanks but …”
The XO followed it with a bottle of water. The captain grunted as he caught it and then chuckled. “Always there,” he said.
“Just as a good XO is supposed to be.”
“Suck up,” the captain teased as he popped the top and took a sip.
“Just waiting for the next promotion list so I can get my own command,” Pericles retorted.
The captain racked the water bottle and then slung the towel over the handle bars. “So, think you can hack my job?”
“Your job? No, I'm not sure. Maybe. I'd definitely like to try my hand at something smaller and build up to this,” the XO replied, waving a hand.
“Now you are pulling my leg,” the captain said as his legs pumped.
“Hard to do with them whirling around like that, Skipper,” the XO teased. A rating snorted.
“Cute,” the captain said. “Let's see, two more minutes then I …,” he frowned. The elliptical ski machine was currently occupied. He frowned thoughtfully.
“I'll be off in a minute, sir,” the female rating said.
“No rush,” the captain said noncommittally.
“You're the boss,” she said, huffing as she pumped her legs and arms. He could just see the sim under her arm; it was of an uphill, cross country ski run. Not bad, but he preferred to do such things with music.
Come to think of it, she could have music playing through her implants and he wouldn't know it. Some people were good at that. He personally preferred ear plugs. After spending the day listening to voices in his head, it was nice to get out of it for a change.
“She's reading my mind too. It's contagious,” he said, jerking a thumb to the woman. She ducked her head, smiling and blushing a bit.
“Easy to do since she's female, sir,” Pericles retorted.
“True,” the captain snorted. “Most of the time,” he added. “So, your thoughts?”
“I think Second Fleet got its ass handed to them, on toast. And we're going to be there when they come out?”
“That's the plan,” the captain admitted. “Almirante Grau is going to send us her fighters and as much ordinance and spare parts for them as we can take on. The bosun asked for a little break to allow the boat bay officer to do some juggling and the Cargo Masters to move some freight around.”
“I'm betting we'll have parts in nets strapped to the hull by the time we get underway. Which will be … when exactly, Skip?”
The captain grunted. “I was going to say when they are done. I know better,” he admitted. Tell a rating they could work on it without a deadline and they dragged their feet and dragged the process out. A rating or officer worked best like a rat in a trap and under constant supervision and threat of imminent death or worse, the captain's impatient wrath.
“Are we just taking on fighter parts and ordinance? Or more?”
The captain frowned thoughtfully. “You know, now I'm not sure. The orders said just that but …”
“I think we should take on everything we can get our hands on. We've got caches here in the system, I say we draw on them, Skipper. But we strip Grau first.”
“Captain Leon might have something to say about that,” Captain Song replied mildly.
“I think she won't mind when we or I should say, you explain where it's all going. We'll give her gifts to the ships coming in. Parts will be in short supply; getting the ships shipshape is vital. And any extra ordinance and counter missiles she can spare will be much appreciated, sir,” the XO explained.
Captain Long didn't have to think about that scenario for long. Slowly he nodded as he scratched under his chin. “I like it. All but the part about me explaining it to her.”
“Well, she's there and you're here, sir. How bad can it be?” the XO teased. “Just remember, her bark is worse than her bite,” he teased as he headed into the bathroom/locker room to shower.
“Right,” the captain drawled after him. He shook his head and snorted.
:::{)(}:::
“We're receiving an omni hail from the picket ships. They want details, ma'am,” Boris stated two hours later.
“Of course they do,” Monica replied with a tired grin. She'd let the others rack out. They were bushed, but she figured she, Corgi, and Boris could handle the bridge and engineering for the moment. Besides, the less people looking over her shoulder, the better she felt when she “chatted.”
She tapped into the communication's system and locked in on where the hails were coming from. Then she set up a whisker laser ping. As that went out, she pulled up the logs of the battle, along with her sensor feed, compressed them, and sent that along as well.
She was careful not to color it with her own commentary. Let them draw their own conclusions. “Still Shepard and Almirante Grau I see,” she murmured.
“Yes, ma’am.”
:::{)(}:::
“We've taken on the fighters and everything we can, Skipper. We've got the hull covered with gear as well. We'll need to clear it in a hurry if the shit hits the fan,” Pericles warned.
“Understood. Nav, plot the course and feed it to the helm. Helm, execute the course when you receive it,” the captain ordered.
“We've had the course plotted, and we've been updating it hourly. The latest update … is done,” the navigational officer stated. “To you helm.”
“Aye, ma'am. Setting course 221 by 2 by 4. Speed at full impulse.”
“We need to make up some time.”
“Sir, call coming in from Almrante Grau,” the comm rating replied.
“What does that …?” The captain grimaced and waved a hand. “Put her through.”
“I'll keep the home fires burning here, Adam. Stay sharp over there.”
“Worried about me, Daisy?”
“Hell with you! I signed off on half the crap on your hull! Don't get any of it dinged!” she growled.
Adam grinned. “No promises,” he said sweetly. She glared, but he merely cut the signal. He frowned and then tapped at the log download. “Comm, lay a signal on the courier. See if they have a casualty list. I'd like to know how many friends I've lost,” he said quietly.
“Aye aye, sir,” the comm rating replied in a subdued voice.
:::{)(}:::
As the courier crossed the star system, she exchanged notes with the picket. She knew which ships had survived but didn't have a casualty list like Captain Song asked for. The closer they got, the less time it took for the conversations. They had a couple hours of real time conversation as they made their final approach to the Protodon jump point. But by that time Shepard was on her way to the B-97A jump point, and they had given up everything that they'd seen and experienced in B-97A.
“The worst thing about that battle was being in an unarmed courier. We're fortunate Admiral White detailed the screen to cover us and the fleet train,” Monica said.
“Yes, I noted that. It was risky to pull them from the entire fleet over watch to just focus on your protection. It might be why we lost the battle cruisers,” Daisy said gruffly.
Monica frowned pensively. “I … yeah,” she sucked in a breath and let it out. “I know, but if he hadn't we would have been toast. None of the ships in the fleet train had the defensive ability to handle that sort of fire power. He deliberately put the battle cruisers out there to let us survive.”
“I know. And I know you are grateful. He probably knows you'll be busting your ass to make up for it.”
“Speaking of which,” Monica said, settling herself. “We've received the updated log from Shepard. I'll need yours before we jump and if you've got any other mail you want passed on of course,” she said with a sympathetic smile.
“Most definitely. Comm,” The Neocollie looked over her shoulder to a rating. “Upload our logs to the courier along with all
mail waiting to be sent. Then get on the Vox and inform the crew that if anyone has any last minute messages to friends and family, get it done now,” she ordered.
“Aye aye, ma’am. No one sends me anything except junk mail and bills though,” he said.
“That's you. Some of us have families, Chico,” another rating said.
“Hey, I've got an ex-wife and kids too you know,” the comm rating growled back.
“Less yak, more work,” Daisy interrupted them. She turned back to Monica. “You should be getting the download shortly.
“Good. We'll be jumping out in a few minutes.”
“Understood. I wish I could say it was nice seeing you … I mean … it sucks and all,” Daisy shrugged and flicked her ears.
Monica nodded. “I know what you are saying. Yes, it does. But we'll bounce back, I know it,” she said.
“Safe sailing,” Daisy said.
“To you as well,” Monica replied as she cut the channel.
“Hyperdrive check complete. Preflight checklist four engaged,” Corgi reported.
“Hope everyone got enough downtime. We're going to do our best to make some speed records. I know we won't break any, not without antimatter at any rate, but let's pretend we've got a Craig cat on our tail and try anyway,” Monica said.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” Boris replied.
Once they received the last download, the courier finished charging her hyperdrive and then jumped to Protodon. The courier carried the flash warning of impending disaster. Almirante Grau had orders from Admiral White to backstop all ships in B-95a3.
Monica's last sight of the ship was as the hyperdrive bubble engulfed her ship. She hoped and prayed they'd still be there when she got back.
:::{)(}:::
Eight days after the courier had arrived, crossed the star system, and then jumped on to Protodon, Second Fleet's detached carriers, three of her light cruisers, two of her destroyers, and the fleet train arrived in B-95a3. They were met by Shepard who immediately flashed her IFF to them. As the newly-arrived ships went through the various stages of standing down their hyperdrives and securing for subspace, fully-ladened shuttles rushed from the munition ships carrying precious ordinance to the carriers. Their dangerous cargo was highly coveted but warily handled as it was passed from the landing decks through special lifts into each of the ship's magazines.
“Now that you've got the munitions flowing, where do I send these fighters? I'd like to keep my own, but since I can't and my boat bay is unbelievably crowded, I'd like to get them to their new home and settled in,” Captain Song said over an omni broadcast. “My orders didn't say who to turn them over to either. Can someone clue me in?” That request sparked an argument.
There were eight Cobra class fighters all told, four from each picket ship. Since each carrier had taken losses, the CAGs and deck bosses immediately put in orders to fly them over to their ship, sometimes stepping over other calls to do the same.
“They are Cobra fighters. We're set up for them here on Halsey,” Commander Meia insisted. “You've been pushing the bomber role for Crystal Cold for a while now Zenkov.”
“For myself, yes, but the admiral ordered each ship to carry a balanced wing. I need those fighters to replace my losses as well,” Vasili replied.
“Tough, I outrank you,” Meia said coldly. “They are coming to Admiral Halsey and that's final.”
“No it's not,” Commander Wilder said mildly. Meia turned on her. “If you think you can pull rank on me, forget it,” the commander continued as Meia opened her mouth. “There is a simple answer to this. I hate to do it, but we need to get this resolved,” Commander Wilder stated, settling herself. “I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. I am ranking officer. I have time-in-grade longer than the rest of you,” she stated, eying the others. “And no, I'm not going to be a bitch about it, not unless you make me,” she warned, eyes glittering.
Meia's mouth closed. She glowered for a moment.
“There. Now, since we can't all behave and share our toys, I'll have to play the adult … at least until Admiral White steps in. That being said,” she turned to Vasili, “I understand you've gotten a shipment of fighter parts, and you're putting two of your banged-up birds back in order?”
Vasili nodded cautiously. “Yes …”
“Good. I'll want a SITREP from each ship,” Jerrica said. “Meia, you'll get two of the fighters.”
“Just two?” Meia demanded.
“I'm not finished,” Jerrica replied firmly. “Lieutenant Gobi, you are going to transfer at least one bomber squadron over to Crystal Cold,” she said. She turned to Vasili. “You are going to break your damaged bomber squadron up, and they'll fill in the blanks here on Kittyhawk and on the other ships. Four of the picket fighters will go to Crystal Cold to replace losses there,” she said nodding to the orangutan Lieutenant. “Kittyhawk will take the last two Cobras, but we'll send you our Raptors, Commander Meia. That should make up your losses,” she said.
“It should,” Meia said. “Raptors suck though.”
“I know. Deal with it. You are on interceptor coverage. Vasili, obviously you've got the bombers. I want at least one of us on duty each shift to keep watch over things. That means watching the jump point as well as the shuttles flying around.”
“That'll be fun,” Gobi muttered. “I've never handled anything bigger than my squadron,” he admitted.
“Sucks to be you, getting thrown in the deep end,” Vasili said with some sympathy. “I'll help when I can,” he offered.
“Thanks,” Gobi replied.
“We'll all help. The enemy is the pirates, so let's stop taking bites out of each other and find a way to start taking bites out of them. Vasili, I'm assuming you worked on bomber mission review in transit?” Jerrica demanded.
Vasili nodded.
“Good. You have call on all of our bombers. I want you to run them through their paces in sims.”
“Sims?”
“For now we're only going to fly the Alert 5. I know it’s risky keeping a light picket out there, but I don't want to expend fuel and parts and complicate the decks with additional craft unless I can help it. Meia, you've got the Alert 5. Set up a launch and recovery schedule using all fighters,” Jerrica said. “I want at least one fighter pair ready to go at a moment's notice.”
“What about the bombers?”
“We can't afford to have them online while shuttles are coming and going. They take up too much room,” Meia said in disgust.
“Right,” Jerrica replied. “Vasili, work with the deck bosses and crews. See if you can deploy a bomber on the dorsal deck of each ship. Try it on one for two days and see how it goes.”
Vasili frowned thoughtfully. “They won't have any extra oomph for takeoff. Do you want the crews to bunk inside?”
“Your call. If they have to bunk in, so be it. Remember, if they aren't they'll have to suit up and walk to their craft,” Jerrica warned.
Vasili frowned thoughtfully as he scratched under his chin. “Okay.”
“Get on that. In the meantime, we need to get the shuttles working like clockwork. I'll keep an eye on that. Meia, you can call on Lieutenant Darling and Warrant Hurranna's services when you need them. I suggest you call a squadron leader conference when you've got a game plan in mind.”
Meia nodded thoughtfully.
“Now,” Jerrica said almost fatalistically. “I'll get on the horn with Shepard and get the fighters moving, as well as any spare fighter parts and ordinance they've got just lying around.”
“I …,” Vasili saw Meia open her mouth too and stopped himself.
“I'll divvy it up after I get your reports. Don't fudge things; we need to play it straight. If you've got ideas to get planes functional again, make sure the plane captains and mechanics share them. In fact, I'll talk to Orville and see if he can set up a website to exchange ideas,” Jerrica said.
“Rodger,” Gobi said with a relieved smile. “We've got a lot of banged-u
p birds here.”
“Understood.”
“I'm also short two pilots for the craft that we can get into space. Any ideas? One is a copilot of a bomber,” the Neo orangutan reported.
“I've got a pilot without a craft now. I was going to bump one of the Cobra's but if you've got a handy bird …,” Meia said.
“See how things work when we work together?” Jerrica replied with a smile. “Get that transfer underway. I'll get Orville on the site. We'll talk again tomorrow, same time,” she said. The other CAGs nodded. “Dismissed,” she said severing the circuit.
She sat back with a long exhale. So much for things being easy.
:::{)(}:::
As the CAGs got their birds and people under control, the warship work crews dug into their own projects. They were ever wary of an unexpected and undesired visitor, which made them jumpy. Each incoming ship made them even more jumpy.
But they did make small amounts of progress. They cut up broken bits and sent them off to the factory ship Ikenga to supplement her raw material supply.
Each time a new ship arrived, all activity ceased and they went on high alert until she was identified. It drew the sensor and tactical watches on a rack of anticipation none wanted. Tempers began to fray as the tension started to gnaw at them. They knew the longer they waited there, the closer they got to a window of when the enemy could potentially have caught up and jumped in on them.
Every minute was therefore precious and not to be wasted. Priorities had to be set and adhered to.
The ship captains also fought over who had seniority. Commander Nax initially took charge until Commander Song looked their records up and politely informed the Veraxin that he had seniority. That didn't last however. Every few days, things changed; seniority shifted as a new ship translated out of hyper. And each time they had to hand command over and bring the new officer up to speed on what they'd done.
:::{)(}:::
“Still working out the details,” Jojo asked sympathetically as the orange cat took a seat at the conference table for their morning briefing.
“Of course. We got the downloads from all the ships, and I'm working with the tactical departments on all the ships as well,” the staff tactical officer replied as he twitched his whiskers. “We've picked a few obvious things out, but not much,” he said.