by Chris Hechtl
:::{)(}:::
“Are you kidding me?? Sound blasters? They won't make a dent! Might as well throw spit wads the good it'll do yah,” he growled, clearly unhappy.
“I was thinking sonics myself. Something to get them to back off. Nothing to do permanent damage, Dom, just something to make them think twice.”
“Give them a headache, stomachache, make their heads wring. I know. The answer is no, I'm not a sound engineer. Sorry. You're barking up the wrong tree here, gal,” the old man said.
“Well, one of us is barking at any rate,” Jo said.
“Young lady, you aren't too old I can't put you over my knee,” Dom scolded his niece.
“Oh? You and what army?” Jo retorted. “Careful,” she teased. “You don't want to get your blood pressure up any higher than it already is! You look so red you're about to pop, Uncle Dom.”
“I'll pop you …,” he growled, making a fist and brandishing it. She just smiled impishly at him.
“All right, putting aside threats of domestic violence for the moment …,” Lieutenant Locke interjected.
“Who's threatening? And it's not violence, it's corporal punishment. One that is sadly overdue,” Dom said, jutting out his chin in indignation.
Jo snorted. She turned to String and Sinjin. Both shook their heads fighting a smile. “Back me up boys?”
The Marine lieutenants immediately shook their heads in unison. “You are so on your own, Jo,” String said. “So Lone Wolf can't whip something up. Not immediately. I know the Marines have them though; unfortunately they are protecting the perimeter of the bases,” he said.
“So they can't be loaned out. Damn.”
“No. Best bet is to bust the organizers. Hit the looters, just pick them up. Stay out of reach. We'll continue to broadcast that we're working the problem,” he said.
“If that's the best you can do …,” Caitlin sighed.
“Yeah, sorry, Kate, it's all we've got.”
“Damn,” Caitlin muttered. “So now what?”
“Well, it looks like the plans to invade Nuevo Madrid are on hold, at least for a while,” String said, shaking his head. His brother had been slated to lead the Marine attack craft wing in the invasion of Nuevo Madrid. He was supposed to remain behind to continue liaising with the militia, which meant working with the Lone Wolf group while also working on training the pilots that came in to man the planes.
“You think?” Dom drawled sarcastically.
“Now look, Dom, it's a setback to be sure, but it's not the end of the world. We'll bounce back,” Sinjin insisted.
“He's right. I bet the admiral is rushing reinforcements here as we speak. It'll be months before the enemy can get here. And anything they do in B-95a3 is bound to add up. If the navy can bloody their nose hard enough, it just might make them think twice about coming this far.”
“Which will give us time to get those reinforcements here,” Caitlin said. “I wish they'd say that in the news,” she growled.
“Drop a word to someone. Unofficial, back door thing,” Jo urged. “Maybe it'll make for cooler heads,” she said. Her eyes turned to her uncle.
Dom grunted but looked away.
:::{)(}:::
Commander T'roi received Admiral White's orders but passed them up to Admiral Irons for approval. She laid her reasoning out plainly in her request for clarification. She didn't want to send the ships and have them caught in hyper when the enemy appeared, then have White abandon them in his inevitable retreat from B-95a3.
She also wasn't happy about stripping the fortresses of fighters and made that clear in her report.
“I see her reasoning; she doesn't think he can hold. I'm not sure he can either,” Admiral Irons stated. Hell,” he said, tossing his tablet on the bloater in front of him. “I know he can't, not with the ships he's got and the condition they are in!” He shook his head. He'd scanned the report so he knew several of the worst damaged ships would be coming to Protodon shortly. That would cut TF2.1's strength even further. He also knew the loss of two battle cruisers wasn't going to spin well if at all in the media. He was holding off on announcing the losses until the navy finished notifying any next of kin. “I just don't like her end run around Amadeus,” Admiral Irons stated. He looked away. “I know that's not going to sit well with some.”
“And it's not going to reflect well on her future career,” Admiral Sienkov stated.
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Amadeus is the senior officer. I'm not going to micro-manage him. The man gave an order; its sound if it is expedited in a timely manner. She is stalling. Technically, I could relieve her for that. She made a point of showing the courier captain what her actions caused. I think a little lesson of her own is in order. So, I'm going to order her to expedite the order. Heaven help her if she has delayed prepping to execute the order while waiting on me!”
Reluctantly Admiral Irons immediately ordered Commander T'roi to split TF2.2 along the lines Amadeus had ordered. Her ship and anything smaller than a destroyer would remain behind in Protodon; the rest were dispatched to B-95A3 at their best speed. That included all the ships currently working up.
The two CEVs Stinging Swarm and T'sunin immediately took on additional ordinance and ships from the fighter fortresses. They would be some of the last ships to move out; the heavy cruisers Skale, Breakwater, and Dead Reckoning along with the light cruiser R'v'll and her three sister ships, with one of the two destroyer squadrons had already begun their final preparations to jump.
Based on the time table the captains of the two CEVs had projected, they should be ready to jump just as the Fourth Destroyer Squadron arrived at the jump point with a trio of Dora tenders and one bulk munitions ship. That would leave Commander T'roi and Commander Nambi two fortresses, swarms of platforms and drones, Commander T'roi's ship, two squadrons of frigates, and two squadrons of corvettes to defend the star system.
Hopefully, it would be enough. They had a window between the time the last ship jumped and the expected arrival of the first reinforcements already in the pipeline. And unfortunately he knew that there was no way to contact Captain Samuels to get her to expedite Maine's speed.
Once he confirmed the order, he called an emergency staff meeting of the navy. Admiral Sienkov sat in for Captain Montgomery who was on Antigua with Commander Lake.
“I think we've all read the report. And you not only backed Admiral White, you doubled down on his intent,” Sprite said, opening the conversation. “I'm assuming you are going to order reinforcements to be dispatched from here, sir?” she asked.
Admiral Irons nodded.
“You are managing a fleet from a distance, Admiral. Not good. You should leave it to the man on the spot,” First Lieutenant Otto Turner, the G-1 OPS officer reminded him.
“Unfortunately, the man on the spot is a lieutenant commander who asked for clarification on her orders,” Commander Sprite interjected.
“Oh,” Otto said. He grimaced sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn't know, sir.” He said, looking at the admiral.
“No reason you should have. Not a problem,” Admiral Irons stated flicking his fingers. “The question is where we go from here. How much of First Fleet can we shave off safely and how soon can we get them underway?”
“We need to do this soon within twenty-four hours, and they'll need to hustle at flank speed if they are going to make a difference in defending Protodon. Unless Admiral White can hold them off in B-95A3, which I doubt,” Sprite stated.
Admiral Sienkov winced.
“I'm not the only one. I've scanned Admiral White's report into memory. He reflects the same thing in his message, sir,” Sprite stated, addressing the flag officer directly.
“That a commander has trouble believing he can hold …”
“With all due respect, sir, he's being realistic. He lost 20 percent of his force and had to send another 30 percent home for repairs. His remaining ships are banged up and are at half
strength on fuel and ordinance. The enemy has more powerful ships coming his way. He's being realistic, sir,” Sprite stated.
“True,” Lieutenant Turner grimaced.
“Yes, it is true. It just leaves a bad taste in one's mouth to admit it,” he stated.
“The good news is, the latest reinforcements from here as well as Pyrax are en route now. The bad news is, we can't contact them to get them to speed up—at least not the Antigua force,” Sprite stated.
“And how many ships are we talking about?” Captain Thornby asked.
“Not as many as we'd like to see, Doctor, obviously,” Lieutenant Turner stated. He pulled up the list and put it on the main display.
The freshly repaired battle cruisers Maine and Justice were leading the group from Antigua. They had with them one Prowler, two couriers, two fully-ladened bulk tenders, one munitions ship, four mine layers, one small factory repair ship, and the two Pyraxian-built Kittyhawk II class CEVs Warrior's Fire and Chi'Lin'fak. Both had been outfitted in Antigua.
The light carrier Illustrious was leading the force from Pyrax, but the light carrier had only a partial load of fighters and bombers on board. She was supposed to take her wing on and work them up in Protodon. She had four tin cans escorting her and her small fleet train of one fuel ship, one transport, two Dora class tenders, and Dora class hospital ship.
“As you can see, nothing there can stand up to a dreadnaught, let alone a pair of them,” the OPS officer stated.
“I see,” Nara murmured, staring at the ship names and blinking locations.
“We can pass an alert to the other ansibles to get them to expedite their movement, correct?” Matilda asked. “I'm talking about the forces coming from Pyrax,” she clarified, pointing to it on the holo projector.
Admiral Irons nodded. “Which we'll do,” he said, glancing at Otto and then Sprite.
“I'm sending the order now, Admiral. Their last check-in was in B452C. They had just jumped to Kathy's World, ETA nine days.”
“So, they'll get the alert there and pick up speed. Hopefully enough to get to Protodon to make some difference,” Matilda said, sitting back.
“Some yes. But they aren't enough to handle a pair of dreadnaughts,” Admiral Irons stated with a shake of his head. “The best course of action is to stand off and pound them now that we know their missiles are subpar to our own. Our defensive doctrine is better as well.”
“So …”
“So that is up to Amadeus. He might do that. He might bleed them with his missile pods, and then perform another fighting withdrawal. I am not certain at this point,” Admiral Irons stated.
“So … should we send the ships? Can the defenses in Protodon hold them off?” Lieutenant Qr'll'ck asked, swiveling her eyestalks from Admiral Irons to Admiral Sienkov.
“It depends on what the enemy has and how they use it, Lieutenant,” Commander Sindri rumbled. “Our people are good but the fixed defenses are limited. If they stand off and pound them with missiles or kinetics, eventually something will get through.”
“Oh.”
“So we need to send mobile forces as well. The more you use, the less you lose,” Admiral Sienkov said. “And they can play a decided impact on the thinking of the enemy commander as well.”
“Admiral White, beat off two battle cruisers with a bunch of tin cans and an escort carrier. Yet …”
“Not nearly the same deal, Matilda,” Sprite stated. “That enemy knew some of what to expect but we'd reinforced. He had a lot of missile pods, and they lacked proper fighter support. This force has fighter support, bombers, and is very well organized. Their commander knows the weapon he has in his hands.”
“And just as importantly, how to wield it to great effect,” Admiral Sienkov finished for her.
“Yes, sir,” the A.I. agreed.
“Should we be sending them? And leaving Antigua so vulnerable, sir?” Lieutenant Flick asked. The Veraxin G-7 head was a good jurist, but he was out of his element Irons thought.
“We've got months before they can get here,” Fletcher stated.
“Agreed. This Horathian force needs to be stopped quickly,” Sprite stated.
“Agreed. But Bismark isn't exactly healthy. And Quirinus just finished her builder’s trials last week. My people have gone over her, and we've fixed most of her bugs. But there are always some that slip past during the first round of testing,” Sindri warned, looking at the admiral.
Admiral Irons nodded slowly. The dwarf engineer was correct. Unfortunately, they couldn't hold her back. “I know Bismark still not 100 percent but enough to get her and her division mate under way now,” Admiral Irons stated. He turned to Otto. “Get her moving now, along with her Quirinus, the carriers, First Battle Cruiser Squadron, and all the supplies we can send to them.”
“Timeline?” Otto asked, lifting his stylus as he held his tablet up.
“I want them moving in less than twenty-four hours. Twelve if we can arrange it.” He turned to Commander Bloodhound. “You need to get your people cracking ASAP, Portia,” he warned.
“And if the Congress objects, sir?” Commander Bloodhound, the G-8 Logistics head asked.
Admiral Sienkov nodded. “He's doing what any good officer does. He's marching them to the sound of the guns.”
“Before the politicians get involved and howl bloody murder or try to stop it. The faster they get out of the system the better I'll feel,” Admiral Irons growled.
“Let's hope it's not too late by the time they arrive,” Otto said. “They are going to hustle in untried ships. Something could go wrong,” he warned.
“Yes. There is that. Fighting forward will keep the battle from happening here. That too is important,” Admiral Sienkov stressed, eying the other members of the naval staff. That statement extracted reluctant nods from some of them.
:::{)(}:::
“Admiral Irons, sir?” a familiar voice called over the link. Admiral Irons blinked and then looked up to see Captain Harris's holographic image projected in his office. “I'm sorry; I was indisposed when your call came through initially, sir,” Harris stated as he adjusted his uniform a bit.
“Caught you napping, Dwight?” The other man shrugged. “Relax, I know we all have to sleep sometime,” he said, waving a hand. “Jack in.” When the other man blinked and then did so, he nodded again. “Dwight, you know what's going on,” Admiral Irons said. The other man nodded. “Good. We can skip the small talk about how you and Dawning of a New Day are doing and get to the important stuff. You'll get the full briefing in an upload if you haven't already. I'm using my presidential authority to frock you to Commodore. Congratulations.” With that simple sentence, he uploaded the commands to alter the man's rank and give him the keys he would need for his new rank.
“Sir?” Harris asked in disbelief, eyes wide as he received the upload. The sudden elevation wasn't what he'd had envisioned for his future. He'd thought he'd have a nice ceremony, broadcast of course … but this …
“Relax, you were going to get it soon enough anyway,” the admiral replied wryly. “And you're going to see the rank as a curse as much as a gift soon enough, Dwight. You're taking command of Bismark and Quirinus; you can make up your mind if you want to transfer your flag to one of them or stay on Dawning of a New Day. Up to you. I'm dispatching a scratch flag staff for you now, and a replacement captain.
“I … if it is the same to you, sir, I've flown my lights on Bismark, but if you want this movement expedited, I don't want to take the time and swap ships and get the feel for her again. I suppose I can do that en route.”
“Good. You're taking the First Battle Cruiser Squadron with you as well as many carriers and supply ships I can scare up. Needless to say, you move at flank speed; the other ships can catch up in due time. We'll probably send a steady stream. You're going to send a courier back to B458 if Protodon is in danger of falling.”
“She won't be, sir. We'll see to that.”
“I'm counting on you ,Dwight. Kick a
ss.”
“I'll get it done, sir,” Harris said with a nod.
“You all will. Team effort,” the admiral said. “No glory, no riding to the rescue. Just stop the bastards.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Dismissed, Commodore with my congratulations. Now git before someone bitches about it.”
The newly-minted flag officer cracked a smile. “Aye aye, Admiral,” he replied. He saluted. Admiral Irons returned the salute and then struck it. The commodore struck his own smartly, then cut the channel.
:::{)(}:::
Protests began in Congress before he'd even announced that he intended to send the ships off. Apparently they were learning he thought in annoyance.
“We need those ships to defend the capital! The real federation!” A woman on the street said.
“And apparently Protodon isn't part of the federation,” the admiral murmured.
“Well, technically it isn't, Admiral,” Protector stated. “They are a protectorate and in negotiation to join. That isn't the same.”
“I'm not going to give up the ground. Not when we'll have to pay for it in blood twice and not when we'd get a damn black eye if we leave.”
“Classic catch twenty-two,” the A.I. replied.
“Exactly. Call a press conference,” he ordered.
“Shouldn't that come from Commander Sprite or Miss Liobat, sir?”
The admiral growled. “What do you think?” he finally asked.
“Putting in the call to Liobat and Commander Sprite and alerting the media, sir. When do you want it?”
“When are the ships getting under way?”
“Now, sir.”
“Give them an hour to get up and frothing, then I'll step out and do my best to nip this hysterical crap in the bud,” he said. “Preferably before it gets out of hand.”