Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3)

by Chris Hechtl

  While Captain Sprite nixed their plans, Admiral Irons got word from Iab that they had a new ansible contact, this one with Destria. The contact report was quickly followed with news; the invasion of Destria had begun.

  Admiral Irons read the report. Colonel Harley's division was going to be busy for some time he noted. Destria was another agro world and had been invaded by a short brigade of Horathian troops several years prior. According to ONI's report the brigade had some of their best and brightest, which translated to their most sadistic and cunning. They'd had plenty of time to get a grip on the planet, and more worriedly, dig in. They also had a platoon of the feared Death's Head Brigade's power armored troops with them. Not a pleasant thought for Harley's boys and girls to tangle with.

  But he was also aware that she had top notch equipment this time and good people to back them up. She'd dig them out, eventually. He nodded and passed the report on to Monty and Yorgi, then over to OPS and General Forth before he passed it on to Liobat.

  “I want you to release this internally to the navy and especially the Marines first. Give them a day to read it.”

  “That will make it leak to the media,” Liobat warned.

  “So be it. That might actually be a good thing. We're still getting the download, including a casualty list. If it comes out to the media, I want a short statement. Keep the details limited.”

  The Neocat nodded slowly. “Spoon-feed them to build interest? You know that can backfire if we get reports of mass casualties or war crimes? And the difference between letting the military and public know will become obvious soon enough,” the press secretary warned.

  “I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that military personnel are trained to know when to keep their mouths shut. They'll be okay. We'll filter the reports and pass it on after ONI gets first crack at it.”

  Slowly the Neocat nodded again. “I see,” She drawled. “You want the delay to also give ONI time to process what you currently have,” she said.

  “Exactly. And with what they've already got, what with the download still coming in from Protodon, they can't just jump into it whole heartedly you understand. There is also a question of what they can draw out of it.”

  “I see.”

  “No casualty lists. If and when there are any, standard protocol applies. We let the family know first,” he warned. The Neocat flicked her ears in agreement. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you, sir,” the Neocat replied. Irons nodded once and then cut the channel.

  “Now, what else can I get into?” he asked.

  “Well, if you really want to get into mischief,” Protector drawled. Irons snorted.

  :::{)(}:::

  Brigadier General Forth mulled over things as he sat behind his desk. He'd just finished reading the report from Colonel Harley that the invasion of Destria was underway. He'd sent his congratulations. The war front concerned him however. Having multiple war fronts bothered him even more; it invited defeat in detail since he had only a finite amount of men and material and too many places they were needed.

  Hidoshi's World and Protodon were his most active war fronts or had been until this latest invasion. Now he had three star systems to contend with. He rubbed his brow. The Marines on Protodon had been in the process of turning their duties over to an army garrison or would have up until the latest invasion threat. Now they were hunkering down and digging in while trying to keep the population calm.

  Captain Lewis on Hidoshi's World reported that they still had an insurgency there to contend with. He shook his head. He shouldn't have let Lieutenant Colonel Pasha 1010111 talk him into sending that army unit to Protodon. He should have sent them to Hidoshi's World and damn the man's pride, he thought in disgust. But he'd wanted to rotate his people and especially Pendeckle out of there in preparation for the next invasion.

  He sighed. It could and probably would still happen. That was, if the navy could hold. Hopefully they would he mused.

  The Marines had their own problems though. They were in the process of invading Destria. He had recruiters all over the sector, he had another academy and Marine boot camp on Antigua to monitor remotely, Lieutenant Colonel Pendeckle was still deployed in Protodon, and they had planned to invade planets beyond that. On top of that, he was expected to plan forces to go into Tau and Pi and plan for the eventual invasion of Horath itself.

  Destria really bothered him now that he knew the damn empire had kicked loose fleets to stir things up. There could be a fleet bearing down on B101a1, he mused darkly. It would get torn apart if and when it hit Pyrax, but in the meantime it could blockade B101a1 and his forces in Destria and Hidoshi's World would be in trouble. They wouldn't die on the vine; they had plenty of resources on the planets they were occupying to draw from. But they'd lose the fastest route to resupply in Pyrax.

  And B101a1 was also the only route to Bek and Nuevo. It was the gateway to their nexus. He frowned then shook his head. It wasn't his problem. He had to be confident that Irons and Subert could handle the situation and were taking steps to keep that empty star system secure. Which, they were, but not very fast. To date they had a division of heavy cruisers, a factory ship, and a half squadron of tin cans protecting the small but growing space station there.

  And now Schultz of all people was giving him headaches. He was becoming a problem, festering where he was. He decided to call Irons and use him as a sounding board.

  :::{)(}:::

  “I'm not sure what you want me to do about it, Jersey,” the admiral asked dubiously. To think, a general needed advice on how to handle a senior noncom? He shook his head in bemusement at the idea.

  “He's been my right hand on Agnosta, my noncom right hand, since we got here. He personally overhauled every aspect of our training regime even MAWTS. If the Doberman had fingerprints, you'd find them all over everything. He put his stamp loud and proud. He's our senior-most enlisted, Admiral,” Jersey explained.

  “So leave him in place?” the admiral asked, frowning.

  “He's getting stale where he is. His term of enlistment is up for renewal shortly, and he's gotten rather quiet about it. That worries me.”

  “Ah,” the admiral said, as he read a report. He frowned as the statement penetrated his forebrain. He sat back, setting the report aside both physically and mentally as some of the different angles penetrated. Morale, the public image impact to the Marines … yes, not good. Now he understood Jersey's dilemma. “Protector …”

  “Pulling up the E-13's records now, sir,” the A.I. stated. “I've actually had them ready, sir,” the A.I. continued as a holographic image appeared on the admiral's desk. It was of a no-nonsense Neodoberman Marine in DI khaki green complete with campaign cover. The dog was instantly familiar, he nodded after a moment. He'd seen the image of the dog in the Marine Times as well as the Fleet Journal. He'd also been the model for Marine recruiting posters.

  He took a look at the Marine's record. He was a combat veteran of the battle of Pyrax, as well as the First Agnosta Expedition. His record was completely unblemished with high marks across the board. One might think nepotism; no Marine kept his nose that far out of trouble, especially around a bar! But …

  Suddenly he understood why the general was reluctant to lose that store of wisdom and how it would be a waste to the corps … he frowned thoughtfully.

  “He wants a combat posting, but he's a bit too high ranking to do it. I have no reason to demote him, nor do I wish to do so. Also, a contributing factor is the thought of losing him in combat at all. It's not a pleasant thought,” the general stated.

  “No, no it isn't,” Admiral Irons murmured thoughtfully as he stared at the record. Protector helpfully blinked the master sergeant's combat record. Both instances were brief, but they were there. One was in combat boardings in Pyrax where he'd been injured and earned a purple heart and the second as the senior noncom on the First Agnosta Expeditiary Force.

  “He's not amiable to a drawing a warrant either or swapping in his stripe
s for officer tabs. I can't really blame him there; he'd be starting at the bottom of the barrel. And it's one thing to lead and mold recruits while executing orders, another to be an officer and generate those same orders.”

  “He has leadership. He wouldn't be a DI without it,” the admiral mused.

  “No, sir, he wouldn't. But he's pointed out that he isn't needed anymore. He took his last leave during a boot camp class cycle. The junior DIs were up to the challenge and handle it. He pointed it out.”

  “Subtle he's not?” the admiral asked with a snort.

  “He can do it when he wants. My point, or I should say, his point, is that he's got everything ticking over here nicely. He's bored and up for a new challenge.”

  There was a long pause as both men thought about the future.

  “You still there, sir?” Jersey finally asked.

  “Yeah, I'm here,” the admiral grunted. “Your thoughts?”

  “Well, Protodon might work. He wouldn't do much there though, not if we've got the forces bottled up for the moment. Destria is out; we've already dispatched the forces there. He could be in a follow-up, but it'd be more of a recruit thing than actual combat.”

  “He doesn't necessarily need to actually be in combat,” the admiral said, rubbing his chin. “Have you considered sending him to Bek?”

  “I … no, that's a possibility I hadn't actually considered. Damn. I suppose Nuevo too?”

  “It is a thought. A visit. Overhaul their training facilities and regime. I'm sure Horatio and the Marines there as well as the army would value his input.”

  “Perhaps. He's been a big help setting up the army here. We've had two requests from Lieutenant Colonel 1010111 to transfer him. The last was almost an outright demand.”

  The admiral snorted at the amused yet indignant tone of voice. He didn't have long to wait for the follow-up.

  “As if he'd become some army twit,” Jersey growled in disgust.

  The snort turned into a fond half-smile. “Okay, he's too far up there to man a recruiting post. We can have him visit posts I suppose …”

  “He'd go nuts playing visiting salesman like we did with McClintock?” Jersey interrupted.

  That brought the admiral up short. “Yeah, there is that,” he said after a momentary pause to consider it. “So, that leaves Protodon, sending him here to make sure everything is good or sending him to Pi or Tau.”

  “What about combining two of the objectives, sir? We can't let him have his cake and eat it too after all. And the Nuevo Madrid offense has been derailed for the foreseeable future. So, what if we send him your way? He can recruit along the way, fact finding on his stops, then a stay on Antigua to clean things up there at their training and other facilities, then hitch a ride on a convoy to Protodon? Are we abandoning it?”

  “Not on your life. I get it. No, that makes sense,” the admiral said. “It delays what to do with him long term though.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you figured it out on your own,” the admiral pointed out.

  The general snorted. “With you as a sounding board. Do I have your blessing, sir?”

  The admiral nodded to the general's image. “You do indeed, Jersey. I'll sign off on that. Send him this way. I'll make him squirm doing some tours with the kiddies, maybe even have him visit a high school or elementary school or two before we kick him over to Pendeckle.”

  “Schultz will just love you for that, sir,” Jersey replied with a chuckle.

  “Yeah well, cause some mischief, pay the penance.”

  “Right,” the general drawled. “Thank you, sir. Agnosta out.”

  “Antigua out.”

  :::{)(}:::

  The first major shipment of antimatter arrived in Antigua from Pyrax in convoy PA-93. It had taken months just to arrange the secure shipping before it had been allowed to be moved. “I'm so glad we've gotten rid of that stuff. I sweated bullets the whole way here I'm telling you!”

  “Well, the good news is, you're not carrying it back,” Sprite said.

  “Good,” the captain replied with a relieved smile.

  “The bad news is, you're carrying warheads. Nuclear warheads,” she said. He flinched. “You're up for it? They will of course be split apart into components and safety is our primary concern here.”

  “Aye, I think we can handle it,” the captain replied cautiously.

  She waited until she was gone before she put a call in to the admiral. “Unloading of the antimatter is going as planned. I didn't have the heart to tell him he's going to be bringing us more,” she said with a grin.

  “Right,” he drawled.

  “Storage for the antimatter?”

  “For now most of it, yes. But not all of it. We're going to accelerate our plans a bit.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Sprite replied warily. “Should I be worried?”

  “No, but the enemy should be,” the admiral said. Sprite cocked her head and then nodded slowly.

  Chapter 27

  Not all the news was good. Four days after announcing the yard loan project, the salvagers came back to haunt them. News came through from Centennial that a ship had docked with a derelict in the outskirts of the star system. The Moth class Gahira had been boarded and had turned out to be booby trapped. The weapon killed the scavengers and critically damaged Midnight MX2 which had force undocked and had tried to get clear in time.

  The small tramp freighter had taken damage to her port side and stern, but she'd managed to limp to Centennial orbit. Word was already spreading through the ansible network as the crew told their story and requested help to get to the nearest space port or yard for repairs.

  Repairs that they expected the federation to pay for was the subtext the admiral read. He pinched and rubbed the bridge of his nose. They were stupid, they knew the risks, and of course insurance was a concept that hadn't yet gotten to everyone. But there was an added complication; he could see it in Monty's eyes.

  “We knew. That's our current dilemma. We knew where the ship was and that it was booby trapped,” Monty said miserably during the briefing.

  “How?” Otto demanded.

  “Fourth Fleet debrief. It was in the databases we recovered as well,” Admiral Sienkov interjected. He glanced at Monty and nodded.

  “The problem is we didn't dispatch a ship in time. We thought …,” Monty sighed and rubbed his brow.

  “In this case honesty isn't the best policy. I say we leave it alone,” Admiral Sienkov suggested, turning to Admiral Irons. The fleet admiral frowned thoughtfully. “It is a case of the burnt hand. They'll be more wary. You'd think after what happened before over the centuries they would have learned. But sometimes it takes the occasional fresh horror show like this one to remind the public that derelicts are dangerous.”

  “I'm glad it blew the ships up myself,” Monty said. They turned to him in surprise. “Sorry, but I'd rather a booby trap of that nature than say a bioweapon. One with a long shelf life like on p34cv9? Or that liner in Pyrax? Or the one the bastards unleashed on ET?”

  “You would bring that up,” Admiral Sienkov replied with an atavistic shiver.

  “I'm worried about not saying we knew. It could come back and haunt us. Bite us in the ass,” Otto said carefully.

  “We tell the truth. It was lost in the shuffle of more pressing priorities,” Admiral Sienkov said. He turned to Monty. “You really think someone could find a plague ship?”

  “You don't? It’s part of what we're paid to look into—to speculate such scenarios and alert the chain of command that they are out there,” Monty said, nodding to Admiral Irons.

  “Right,” Admiral Sienkov said in a different tone of voice. There was a hint of grudging respect in it.

  “We didn't get to it in time. We were wrong not to pass on a warning; if it comes out, we'll eat a little crow over that. So be it. The burned hand works both ways I suppose, from now on we pass on warnings ASAP,” the admiral stated, glancing at Monty.

  “Ag
reed,” Monty chimed in with a nod.

  “Coulda woulda shoulda. Do better gentlemen,” the admiral stated, eying both of them with moderate severity. “I shouldn't have to remind you, lives ride on the line. And your point about a plague ship is valid. Let's backchannel that possibility to the media to get it out to the public. That will also help dampen enthusiasm.”

  “Hopefully, sir,” Monty replied crisply. “We passed on a warning to the group working in B448c. We know there is another booby trapped ship there, the Tarzed. There have been no reports of an incident though.”

  “Yet,” Otto said.

  “Yet,” Monty echoed. “We didn't get word of warning to Molly in time before she jumped for the star system. Given that they and others have passed through it without seeing it, there is a chance that it hasn't been discovered.”

  “I recommend we dispatch a ship to find the ship and either disable the booby trap or destroy the ship. It is a hazard to navigation, sir,” Admiral Sienkov stated.

  “Agreed,” Admiral Irons said with a curt nod. He turned to the OPS officer. “Okay Otto, next subject,” he said as the OPS officer jotted out the order on his tablet.

  “Yes sir,” Otto said. “We have your plan to deal with the antimatter stockpile. Recent events including the arrival pushed that up a bit,” the commander said, skimming the bullet point subject before he looked up. “I know you used the last shipment already, but there is one scheduled to arrive in the next convoy. Are you still considering using it for torpedoes, sir? Or mines? I know we could use it in some of the fighter designs and definitely in fighter ordinance,” Otto stated.

  Admiral Sienkov frowned thoughtfully but didn't interject his viewpoint. Instead all eyes turned to Admiral Irons.

  “For the moment I want to stay the course. Torpedoes and mines yes. We do not want to tie a ship up and make it dependent on a finite fuel source. That's why I've held off on using it with the couriers,” he admitted.

  “That and we only have so many capable helmsmen who can handle Delta and Epsilon available,” Sprite interjected.