by Chris Hechtl
Berney frowned but then nodded.
:::{)(}:::
Halfway across star system, Admiral De Gaulte's supposition that there was a picket in the star system was confirmed when a ship's hyperdrive charge was detected at the jump point in their rear. After a half hour the ship jumped to Protodon.
The battered fleet watched in impotent anger as the ship jumped. Their rage turned on the four ships doing their best to avoid them, but again the fleet was impotent to do anything about them. Some of the aggravation turned inward. The officers did their best to focus it on repairing the fleet. A day later the four unknown ships jumped for the B94e1 star system.
Chapter 43
A day out from her departure Shepard met up with Second Fleet in hyperspace. Second Fleet had arrived a few days in advance of the Horathian Fleet. They'd hid in hyperspace until the enemy had passed by. It had been easier than trying to hide the ships in real space without stealth.
It had been risky, and the timing had to go well. So far so good, Amadeus thought. He'd been tempted to run an ambush, but the enemy's ability to jump short had made him think of a different plan. Besides, due to the need for speed he'd left most of his fleet train and his missile pods behind. Once committed to his plan he'd stuck to it, only modifying the plan on the fly slightly.
The mine layers had carried orders to Shepard to bring him the news, which Shepard had just done.
White ordered the fleet to reposition then jump in as close to the inner edge of the jump point as possible to cut down the lead. “We need to run them down. More importantly, we need to keep their eyes on us.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Garfield replied with a nod.
“Are you up for it, Alec?” the admiral asked, eying the navigator to judge his confidence level.
“We'll get it done, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a confirming nod. He turned back to his station and began issuing orders to the fleet's navigators.
The admiral watched him work for a while then nodded and turned to the tactical officer. “We're going to have plenty of time before we go to battle stations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All ships are ready, sir,” Kyle reported. Alec looked up and gave them a thumbs up.
“Very well,” the Neochimp flag officer said, settling himself in his chair. “Take us in.”
:::{)(}:::
The admiral and his staff were woken when an alert went off. They rushed to battle stations with the rest of the crew. The battle alert was immediately downgraded to yellow alert so the admiral switched from pulling his skinsuit out and on to getting dressed. He was tired though so his movements were more methodical. He reached down and stabbed a key on his end table. After a moment a communication's channel linking his room to the bridge came online. “SITREP?” the admiral demanded as he got dressed.
“It's an enemy fleet, sir,” Captain Couglin reported. “They just jumped in behind us,” he said dubiously. “We're looking at twelve; make that fourteen large mass signatures, with dozens of others of various sizes. CIC is still picking them out.”
“The DNs no doubt. Fourteen though?” the admiral demanded as he got dressed. “We only saw six. That's a dozen battle cruisers.”
“They can't spoof that in a hyper emergence, sir. And those numbers are tentative, sir,” Executioner's ship captain stated in warning. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, tentative. Make that eighteen capital ship signatures, sir,” he said.
“Where the hell did he get them?”
“They might have been waiting in stealth in Protodon the whole time we were there, sir,” Chase stated in disgust. “Why, I have no clue. But it's possible I suppose, sir,” he said.
The admiral paused and looked up as he considered his flag captain's suggestion. His steward came in with his cleaned shoes and knelt to help him get them on. “True,” the admiral said as he lifted his foot so the steward could help him get his shoes on. He continued to button his uniform blouse. “Get CIC to give us a better look at that fleet. Coordinate with the other ships and keep me posted. I'll be on the bridge shortly.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the captain replied. The admiral reached out and hit the button cutting the circuit.
“But first I've got to pee. Scare me up some coffee and a Danish while I'm at it, will you, Wilfred?” he asked.
“Of course, sir,” the steward said dutifully.
“That's a good man,” the admiral said as the steward finished with his other shoe then went off to get the coffee and Danish going.
:::{)(}:::
Prince Adam rushed onto the bridge just behind the skipper. He stopped, nearly running the other man down. After a moment he moved to one side to see the skipper's reaction. He turned to look at the plot, not thrilled by the stunned expression on his captain's face.
His eyes narrowed into a fulminating glare as he stared at the icons of the enemy fleet behind them. “At least they are behind us, not in front of us. Someone screwed up there,” Captain Lovejoy murmured.
The prince nodded once. There wasn't much he could say.
:::{)(}:::
“So? Alec? Don't keep us waiting,” Jojo said, eying the navigator.
“You can't rush art,” Garfield said. “This is something I definitely don't like to rush,” he said, shaking his head. “But you do have a lot of people waiting with baited breath,” he said.
“Sir, signal coming in. IFF handshake confirmed. It's Almirante Grau. She's uploading a full tactical report now, sir.”
“Good,” Admiral White growled. Having the light cruiser nearby with a full sensor and tactical update helped his people immensely. It told them exactly where the enemy was, their vector, and any information that the ship and the recon drones in the star system could tease out. It saved precious time from when the fleet arrived to when their own active sensors got to the enemy and then back. Shepard had uploaded a lot, but the enemy might have changed course since she had jumped. Apparently they hadn't he noted as he saw the information as it was added to the plot.
“We're exactly where we need to be,” Alec finally announced, looking up. “Once we're secure and the drive is powered, we'll be ready to move out, sir. The computer is finishing the course I just plotted now,” he announced.
“Damn good,” the admiral said.
“It's ready,” Leopold announced. “And I'm ready. Let's get this show on the road,” the A.I. stated.
“Patience is a virtue,” Admiral White said with a smile. “Let's make certain everyone else is ready before we tear the enemy a new one,” he said.
“If you insist, sir,” the Tauren A.I. stated with a huff.
Jojo saw her boss shoot the A.I. avatar an amused look before he shook his head and returned his attention to the plot.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral De Gaulte arrived on his flag bridge to find most of his staff had arrived ahead of him. Many were still only partially dressed, but he ignored it for the moment.
“It's been confirmed, sir. We're looking at a sizeable fleet that exceeds our own in size and tonnage,” Myron warned, looking up from his station as the admiral entered the bridge.
The admiral took a sip of his beverage and was about to reply when a rating cut him off. His head swiveled like a turret to the miscreant.
“Sir, we've been getting requests for input from the other flag officers,” a comm rating warned. “Admiral Adkin has requested a conference soonest, sir,” she said, looking up and over to the admiral before she saw his cold angry expression and looked hastily away.
“The last time I checked I'm in charge of this fleet. When I'm ready, I'll call the conference,” the admiral said with cold biting tones. “Let him know that.” he turned to the CIC section chief, then to Catherine and Myron. “Talk to me,” he ordered as he set his coffee mug down in the cup holder on his armrest. He dusted crumbs off his fingers as he watched them gather their thoughts.
“CIC's initial reports were low, sir. We're looking at the two DNs plus fourtee
n BCs. That's a minimum spotted so far; there is a bit of overlap. We're looking at two cruiser squadrons and at least three destroyer squadrons. Plus, other ships CIC has tentatively ID'ed as their escort carrier variant,” Catherine reported.
“Bastard is going to dog our heels the whole way it seems,” Sedrick growled.
“If he doesn't run us down. Remember, he's got the speed advantage even in sublight,” Jeremy said. He also came in square to the jump point right on the inner zone. It was a magnificent hyperspace plot,” he said then covered his mouth with a fist as he yawned. “Sorry,” he muttered. He shook himself then nodded. “They are settling into a least-time course for the jump point.”
“So it's a race,” Berney said.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy replied. “They haven't gotten underway yet. Based on their previously observed speed though it's going to be tight. He's giving us the same sendoff we gave him in B-97A,” he said.
“And I don't like being on the receiving end,” Berney growled.
“Undoubtedly. But two can play his game,” the admiral said as he studied the plot. There was no way they could speed up. That would screwup his turn over and with the structural damage … he shook his head. Things just got very tight. Very tight indeed.
“Sir?” Berney asked dubiously.
“We've already alerted Dead Drop and Garth. I highly doubt they'll try to jump into Dead Drop without intelligence, so they won't try to outrun us and get there ahead of time to ambush us. Even if they did, hopefully the defenses there would stop or blunt them. And we know reinforcements are being rushed to Dead Drop to stop their advance. Once we get there, we'll have Yard modules to make repairs and some industry to make some defenses of our own. We'll have access to stockpiles of ammunition and fighters to replenish our losses. When he comes poking his head in, we can do some damage.”
“Hopefully lop it off and get back on the offense, sir. This sucks,” Myron growled.
“I agree,” Catherine said quietly. Though at this point hoping for a complete victory might be too much to ask for.
:::{)(}:::
“Sir, course plotted. Waiting for your order to engage,” Alec said, looking at him expectantly. “They haven't changed course or speed, sir.”
“Just as expected.” Amadeus replied as he frowned then continued. “Pour on the speed. We want them to sweat bullets and keep looking over their shoulder the entire way there.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Once his scouts had confirmed the enemy fleet was falling back on B-97A, he'd enacted plan Alpha. He'd been a bit disappointed that they hadn't fallen back in Nuevo Madrid though, but perhaps it had been for the best. If the enemy had fallen back into the cul-de-sac system, they'd either had to fight “On Death Ground” or played a variant of the Protodon shenanigan they'd tried earlier. Either way, he wasn't in the mood to play the enemy's games. He wanted to end this. He glanced over to his flag lieutenant. “This is a smart man. A smart admiral. He knew Nuevo Madrid was a trap and didn't fall back on it.”
“You sound like you respect the man, sir,” Jojo said in surprise. She didn't know it, but she was up for a promotion and unfortunately a transfer the flag officer reflected. It was past time; he couldn't hold up her career out of his own convenience any longer.
“I can respect his mind and intellect but despise all he stands for,” Admiral White replied. “There is an ancient quote, I think its Patton but it might be someone else,” he frowned thoughtfully, looking up at the bulkhead as he collected his thoughts. “To paraphrase, 'it's not your job to die for your country. It's your job to make some other poor schmuck die for his,'“ he said.
Jojo cocked her head thoughtfully then nodded slowly.
“Get me what you can again on those ships. See what intelligence has to say. Maybe they can put a name with the ships. Knowing who we're up against might tell us a little more about how they think. I know ONI ID'ed the flagship as Executioner, but is that really Star Mauler her division mate? Who are the officers involved? Is De Gaulte still there as the senior or someone else? Hopefully they built up a bio. I hate dealing with out of date or missing INTEL,” he growled.
“Aye aye, sir.” She frowned then shrugged.
“What?” Admiral White demanded.
“Well sir, I suppose you could always call them. Demand they surrender, that sort of thing,” she said. “He might talk back; give you a little to go on. Us to go on I mean, sir,” she said.
Admiral White's attention turned to the plot. “Something tells me he's not the surrendering type,” he said quietly. Jojo's eyes were drawn to the plot as well. Slowly she nodded again, almost against her will.
:::{)(}:::
For two days the Retribution Fleet fixed its attention on its pursuers. The enemy was using its speed advantage to close the range, disdaining braking in order to catch up. Six hours before getting to the outer edge of the B-97a jump point the staff met again to work on solutions to nagging problems that they didn't have proper answers too.
“They'll be launching bombers and fighters at any moment,” Myron said. “And we've got nothing to stop them,” he said, shaking his head. They were going to be in the enemy's engagement zone for ten minutes near the end of the pursuit. It was going to be an agonizing experience he knew, since they needed to divert power from the defenses to power up their hyperdrives.
The good news was the enemy had left their braking maneuver a little late. So they'd get one pass before they overshot and would have to tack around to come back. Hopefully, the survivors would be gone by then he mused.
“Well, two fighters,” Berney said. He saw the tactical officer's dyspeptic expression and grimaced. “I know, I know. They might as well be spit wads. The good news is they don't have the fortress and light carrier's compliments. He only brought the escort carriers,” he said.
“Spare me small favors that do me little or no good. We're still going to get our ass reamed,” the tactical officer growled as the navigator stepped away from the conversation. He checked his stations then paused to look at the sensor tech. She looked like she needed something to do, staring at the stern sensors as the enemy steadily closed the range was unnerving, and he knew that all too well.
“Do we have a good fix for the jump? I want to get the calculations started early so we can have a running update,” Lieutenant Herod said, leaning over PO Nadira's station. “Sweep everything with the bow sensors for me,” the lieutenant ordered.
“Aye aye, sir,” she said. She nodded once and then tucked her tongue between her teeth as she went to work. She felt her boss retreat. He was a nice guy, but he was an officer. She tried not to inhale when he came near her; she'd learned a while back that he got a little carried away with cologne.
Nadira frowned as she worked. She had to get OPS to allocate the power and then warm the sensors up. While they were doing that, she segmented off a portion of the computers to process what they took. When the sensors came online, she tapped out the order and then waited.
And waited. They were still little more than an AU out, roughly 160 million kilometers. That meant she had minutes before her sensors got to their furthest range in the sweep and began a return. So, she worked on a couple of other things like processing the immediate surroundings of the ship until the long-range feed came back.
When it did she immediately fed it into the servers for processing. Anomalies popped up on her scope, making her frown thoughtfully. They shouldn't be there; they'd been in the star system and passed through the space before. She'd remember … she frowned and tapped out an inquiry. No, her perspective wasn't the reason the anomalies were nagging at her.
She frowned at the diamond dust of icons glittering on her plot. They had mass, that was how she'd picked them up, but … she tapped the visual sensors and tried to localize one. She couldn't see it.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong; her instincts screamed. She stared at the glittering icons, then it came to her. They were unifo
rmly spaced apart! A hundred-kilometer gap … she sucked in a breath and then used her stylus to tap one and then draw a line to another. The computer measured it at almost a hundred kilometers so her eye wasn't off. She checked two more, noting the distribution, and then looked up. “Minefield ahead! On heading zero, zero, zero point one,” she warned, looking up to the CPO and then to the officers in the room.
Admiral De Gaulte looked up from his discussion with his staff at the warning. A final piece fit into place he noted.
“How the hell …,” Myron snarled tiredly. He'd been on shift for another double and should have gotten some rest like Catherine had. He was going to pay for it later he knew, but he couldn't sleep with the enemy crawling up their ass. He doubted anyone else could.
“Those four ships. Mine layers,” the admiral swore as he caught on to what White had to have done. “That's what he did. He knew we wouldn't fall for an ambush, so he pinned us,” he said in a tone of admiration. He'd timed it so their attention would be so focused on what was behind them they'd miss the stealthed mines until it was too late. Well, almost too late, definitely too late for a simple evasion. Now things were going to get messy he thought. “Now we need to get around the blockade in front of us while keeping him off our backs. If we plow in we'll absorb the damage but get seriously hurt in the process,” he said.
“Hammer and Anvil,” Catherine murmured, feeling a little sickly. She'd predicted it, but not in the way things were unfolding.
“Damn it! Can't we catch a break, sir?” Jeremy demanded. He continued to curse.
The admiral's lips twisted as he listened to the tirade wind down. “Apparently not. There is an old saying about giving a sucker an even break,” the admiral said. He shrugged. “Bastard isn't going to let up.”
“No, sir. Orders?”
The admiral grimaced. Jeremy had plotted their original course to the center of the B-97A jump point, which was on the elliptic. Now that was going to bite them on the ass, not that he was ready to bawl the man out about it. Technically he'd signed off on the course so he shared part of the blame.