by Chris Hechtl
“Yes,” he said smiling triumphantly as his pupil caught on. “We'd knock out their interstellar communications and then jump for Antigua. They wouldn't have been able to warn the star system, and White would have taken weeks to get back to Protodon and then have to run after us. Along the way we could make good on repairs and possibly ambush any relief forces on the way to Protodon.”
“Defeat in detail,” Catherine murmured thoughtfully as she continued to game out the plan. It had been a bold stroke … but the execution had fallen apart before it could have been enacted. Pity.
“Right. Irons would be on the horns of a dilemma you see. Some of his forces would already be in the pipeline. He'd have no way to alert them, I highly doubt he had ansibles in the empty star systems; from what I've researched, the damn things take a lot of time and effort to build. He'd have a choice, a nasty one from his perspective. Sortie the Antigua mobile forces to stop us with the hopes that they can catch us and there is enough there to do the job …”
“Or sit tight and expect an attack?” Catherine asked, playing along.
“Got it,” the admiral said with another smile of praise. “That was my problem as well, which way the man would jump.” He held up two withered fingers briefly. “I had two contingency plans in mind,” he said, tapping his index finger against his temple. “One,” he held up a finger. “The mobile defenses are weak. We bypass the fixed defenses and do a repeat of Protodon. KEW strikes from extreme range with enough velocity built up for them to be unable to intercept. Antigua is the heart of this new federation; therefore, all the ansibles are linked there. Take them out and we do serious damage to their communication network. Take out the shipyard and we're golden.”
“Unless some ships waited in stealth and pounced on us,” Catherine warned. “And they can jink the fixed facilities a bit to throw off our aim, sir,” she stated, playing devil's advocate.
“That thought had occurred to me. I admit, I hadn't gamed out how to suss them out except to threaten the planet itself,” he admitted.
The princess digested that frank admission then nodded once. “What was your second point, sir?”
He swirled his drink then took a sip. When he put the glass down he continued. “Two, if the mobile forces are too big to handle, we perform a long-range bombardment. Just sail around the outer system picking off targets of opportunity. Throw some rocks at them, that sort of thing. Enough to keep them jumping. Then, jump for Triang.”
“Triang? They'd know we'd be coming with the ansible if we didn't take it out, sir,” Catherine warned.
He nodded. “That's where things get even more trickier. If we couldn't take out the ansible network in Antigua … by the way the entire network is staged there,” he said. She blinked. He shrugged. “It makes sense; it is where Irons is. It is most likely where he's making them … unless they are doing it in Pyrax or both. But an ansible … you know what, look it up later.”
“I will, sir.”
“I was digressing. Back on point,” the admiral stated as he turned and leaned against the bar. “If we couldn't take it out, I'm betting there would be light forces in Triang—a picket. Repeat, smash and grab, knock out the ansible, then make them wonder which direction we went.”
“South towards Pyrax to threaten there or to cut back up to Kathy's World?”
The admiral nodded.
“But by then White would be back in Protodon with his plug in the hole. We wouldn't get through there. They'd have to know it.” She thought furiously, gaming the situation out. She didn't like what she saw. Eventually she nodded.
“Ah, and the plan is trickier still,” the admiral said, settling in. “We'd have the option of going that route … or north into Senka, and then the long route to B-95a3, or further into the sector along the northeastern loop, smashing and trashing as we went. By that point we'd have to do some scavenging too though.”
“There is no guarantee we'd have the fuel to go far if we couldn't grab what we needed, sir,” Catherine warned. She looked up thoughtfully, accessing her implants to run the calculations. “I'm not sure how much fuel to simulate for maneuvers in Protodon and Antigua, let alone Triang. I think … yes, we'd run dry,” she said when the numbers hit zero and flashed red. That didn't even factor in combat losses or battle damage.
“That's the other part of the tricky bit I mentioned,” the admiral sighed. “If they knew we needed it like the Germans did in World War II, they'd go scorched Earth to deny us the supply. So, it's all theory anyway. And it's all moot at this point,” he said with a shrug. “Something for my memoirs I suppose. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. If only …,” he shook his head in disgust.
“For now, sir. It was … an interesting plan if we'd been able to pull it off. It certainly would have stirred up a hornet's nest!” she said, looking up with an appreciative smile. “It really would have struck a blow for the empire too! Perhaps a telling one,” she purred in appreciation.
“That we've done already. I'm not sure how much we would have really been able to accomplish; we'd be going into Antigua blind. I'm wondering if we've done more damage than I'd wanted to do.”
Catherine blinked in consternation. She was clearly taken aback by that statement. “Sir?”
“I'm reminded of an ancient quote from another admiral, this one from Earth's World War two. About wanting to strike a blow but instead awakening a sleeping dragon,” the admiral said grimly as he looked away.
Catherine grimaced as she considered that. With everything they'd seen, he invariably could be right. She hoped not though, for it could eventually doom her ambitions as well as that of Horath itself.
They had fielded so many battle cruisers and a pair of dreadnaughts in so short a time her mind thought. And the people to man them, the infrastructure … they could call on any species while the empire had limited its selection … and her family's policy of cleansing was a distraction, both in men and materials …
She shivered. The future for the empire looked grim indeed.
Chapter 37
“See?” Senator Mayfair growled, waving a fat hand. Her bracelet bangles made a racket until she settled the hand in her lap. “Aren't you glad we had Irons stand White down?”
“I'm glad he listened. Irons has made it clear he is in charge of the navy,” Senator Russell replied, tipping back his ten-gallon hat. “With this victory in his corner, he'll be damn near unstoppable for a while,” he said. He wasn't certain if he should be disgusted or relieved that the enemy had been stopped.
“That needs to change, at least to some degree,” the senator from Pyrax said with a scowl. She'd had her own run-ins with the admiral and was not a fan. “We need to start exerting our control over the situation or we're just going to be his yes men rubber stamping everything he says and does.”
“Agreed. But the only way we can do anything is with the Senate oversight system—hold hearings, inspections, and hold-up votes. We don't want to do that without a damn good reason. It could backfire on us very easily.”
“The population back home will understand,” Senator Mayfair insisted stubbornly.
Senator Avery Falconi eyed the female senator from Pyrax and shook his head. Their little trio was from different parts of the sector. He was from ET, Russell was from New Texas, and Mayfair from Pyrax. Each of them had gotten to power through different means. He had the Falconi family behind him. His great uncle was a boss in Gotham and had put up the bulk of his financing through a series of super packs to get him elected. Russell was a cattle baron who thought of himself as a great statesman. Mayfair, she had a lot of contacts with powerful people in her home star system. His people were still feeling them out. “You're dreaming. Right now everyone loves Irons and White. They love the navy since it's keeping the barbarians at bay. They could walk across the void without a suit. Going toe to toe with them is a recipe for suicide. I won't do it.”
“So? What are you going to do, eat the crumbs they give you?”
“Yes. A
nd I'm going to spend some time learning the system while he builds it,” Avery bit back.
“We need a front man. Someone who can go toe to toe with Irons. Put the navy in its place,” Russell growled. “Someone we can control or at least guide. Someone in our corner, a public face that the masses will suck up to as much as Irons.”
“But not anytime soon,” Senator Falconi reminded them. The others stared at him. He fought not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “Remember who we're up against? We need the navy. Need them. Tying their hands when they are fighting the Horathians for our survival is a death sentence in politics, mark my words. And throwing road blocks in financing the fleet is tantamount to the same thing.”
“So we just lick his boots and …”
“You really think he's asking us to do that?” Avery asked, turning to her. He shook his head mournfully. “I'm not a fan of the vaunted Irons but I've met the man. I've been watching him. So have others.”
“We need files. We shouldn't have let Governor Saladin push through that pardon,” Senator Mayfair growled in disgust. She reached up and removed an earring, then tilted her head to remove another one. She set them down in front of her. “We need something to get him in check. That's what the process of government is supposed to be about. Checks and balances,” she said.
“Which we're working on. Technically we're still observers,” Senator Falconi said. She blinked at him. He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Cheyenne, you need to at least scan the briefs, not just have your staff read them for you! We're the sector Senate!” he said acidly. “Not the galactic Senate. That's a different animal. For the next, oh, two or three decades, we're going to be observers with little or no power.”
“So that's what you meant about waiting and watching,” Russell said with a gruff nod.
“Exactly.” Avery shrugged. “As far as our own man, I'm banking on Randall.”
“Randall? Why not Sema?” Senator Mayfair demanded, eying him.
“Because she's ambitious and is already in a seat of power. Sure she wants more eventually, but she's shown her hand too soon. She's also from Bek so we have nothing on her, and she's got one hell of a power base in her corner. She's also smart; she went for the secretary position over the VP one. The Vice President would have been nice to occupy should anything happen to the sitting president. She would have been a heartbeat away from occupying it but with little to no power. Sure, president of the Senate, the president's executive officer, but where she is now she can build a power base outside his theoretical oversight.”
The other senators grimaced.
Senator Falconi smiled thinly. “Now, Randall is the reluctant statesman. He's setting himself up to run eventually, but he's smart enough to stay on the sidelines and learn the process, to let Irons do the hard lifting. Eventually Irons will step down. We won't have to force him out; his psychological profile shows he doesn't like politics and is a patriot when it comes to democracy. So, we wait.”
“Wait while he runs roughshod over everything we believe in. Wait and watch you say,” Senator Mayfair growled.
“I didn't say it'd be easy. But it's the best we've got for the moment,” Avery replied with a shrug.
“Heaven help us if you're wrong and we realize down the road when he's too big to stop that we should have nipped this in the bud now,” Senator Mayfair growled in disgust.
“That would be a bit of getting hoisted on one's own petard I suppose,” Senator Russell drawled.
Avery smiled crookedly at his two partners. “That's the benefit of hindsight; it's always twenty-twenty. I'll live with what I decide here and now with a clear conscience.”
“It's not just you that will have to live with it,” Senator Mayfair sighed.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Sienkov and Admiral Irons finished up going over the ONI budget and goals for the following year. For once the two of them hadn't run over in time trying to get the job finished. “I think that about wraps it up,” the admiral said with a nod. He glanced at the clock. “And just in time too. I think if I missed another dinner Mrs. Garrett would disown me,” he said with a grin.
“Not quite, but she has been rather … volcanic when she hears her carefully crafted dinners have gone cold, sir. Based on what she is currently working on, you have just enough time to get to your suite and wash up before it is ready, sir,” Protector stated with a straight face.
“How about it Yorgi, you up for dinner?” the admiral asked, cocking his head.
“That depends. Is Mrs. Garrett making meat again? I'm not sure I can handle another of her marinara concoctions,” Admiral Sienkov replied with a protective hand over his belly.
“Yes, meatloaf, sir. It does have a tomato and honey crust, however,” Protector warned.
“Are you sure? I haven't had a decent meatloaf in a while,” Admiral Sienkov said, smacking his lips. “Of course you are. Sure, I'm in,” he said with a shrug.
“That's the spirit,” Admiral Irons said, clapping him on the shoulder as they exited the office.
:::{)(}:::
“That was a bit anticlimactic of you ask me,” Vestri said, eying the report on their implants. No one else in the restaurant could see it. It didn't matter though. The public version was all over the media network. The vid screens in the corner of the restaurant bar were playing bits of the story nonstop.
“You actually read the report?” Nara demanded, wide eyed in mock surprise, her soup spoon hovering midway between her bowl and lips.
He shook his head and then shook a meaty fist at her. “Behave,” he growled.
“I don't have to, I outrank you,” she replied with a sniff. He snorted as she sipped her soup. He could sense her lighter mood, sense it in Otto as well as the other patrons of the restaurant, hell, even the staff. It was like a big weight had been lifted off them.
“Yes, I read the report. All of it. I imagine just about everyone did. ONI will be picking it over and interviewing people for weeks once they get their hands on them,” he said. “And that's just the one encounter,” he growled.
“And you were interested in the in-depth because?” Otto Turner asked, eying Vestri as he picked at his salad.
“I wanted to know how the ships behaved of course,” Vestri replied with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Right,” Nara drawled in amusement. “We were all worried,” she admitted, eying him.
He held up his hands. “Okay, I admit I was too. I know we had sent enough to do the job. Which we could have … but it didn't come to that.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Otto replied, picking at his salad.
“Well,” Nara stirred her soup with her spoon. “I for one am grateful for the reprieve for the moment and for the time to get fully back on our feet and back on the offensive,” she said with a nod.
“I'm wondering when Admiral White will go on the offensive,” Otto said, looking up to the ceiling pensively. “I'm honestly surprised he's held back. I thought he'd be racing after them out for revenge,” he said.
“He's got a cooler head than either of us it seems,” Vestri rumbled. “Now, quit picking at your salad and eat it like the rabbit you are,” he said. Otto blinked at him then snorted.
“Just because some of us like a light meal now and then,” he said, shaking his head as the waiter came over with the dwarven commander's steak and baked potato.
“What? I'd like to say I'm a growing boy, but I gave that up long ago,” the dwarf replied.
“As your doctor I can safely say so much cholesterol isn't good for you,” Nara scolded, eying him with scant favor.
He frowned at her and then shrugged. “We all have to suffer for what we love apparently,” he said, cutting the steaming steak.
She snorted as she set her spoon down and picked up a fork. When he had a piece cut off though, she speared it with her own fork. “Hey!” he protested, eying her.
“Hay is for horses. You aren't the only one who likes the
occasional bit of protein,” she teased as she popped the piece into her mouth with a teasing smile.
Otto ducked his head as he chuckled and picked at his salad.
:::{)(}:::
An hour later Yorgi sat back and patted his belly. “No more, I'm stuffed,” he said, pushing his plate away.
Mrs. Garrett aka Cookie came in and took his plate as he dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin. “You're stuffed but not so stuffed you don't have room for a slice of fresh pecan pie,” she teased.
“Well, if you insist,” Yorgi replied with a grin. “I suppose I can find room,” he drawled. “Somewhere.”
“That hollow leg and all,” Admiral Irons teased. “To think, you're such an easy mark to bribe. Her meatloaf and that's all it takes,” he said, shaking his head in mock resignation.
“Actually, the pie was the clincher,” Yorgi replied with a wink to Mrs. Garret. “So, what do you bribe this one with?” he asked, nodding his head to the admiral.
Cookie sniffed. “That one can't be bribed with pie or treats. But if you withhold his coffee long enough, he goes into withdrawal and then he's amiable,” she said shaking a finger at Irons.
“Speaking of …,” the admiral said grinning as he held up his empty cup.
Cookie rolled her eyes. She had the carafe ready though so she poured him a cup. “See what I mean?” she asked bumping Yorgi's chair with her hip gently.
The vice admiral snorted. “You've got a lively one there,” he said.
“Don't I just know it,” the admiral said shaking his head.
“I heard that,” the woman said.
Yorgi turned to where she was standing near the butler's pantry. “Can I have some ice cream with my pie? Please?” he asked smiling endearingly at the woman.
She chuckled. “Well, since you asked so nice and all,” she said, making a small plate appear like magic. A scoop of vanilla ice cream was already there off to one side.
The vice admiral's eyes lit in appreciation as she set it down in front of him, and then another plate in front of the admiral.