Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3)

by Chris Hechtl

  Jeremy nodded. “Aye aye, sir.” After a moment he turned back to his station and began to issue orders.

  “One of the hardest parts to handle with being a flag officer is knowing who is going to live and die and having to live with it. If you ever get to the point where you don't care, then you don't belong in the chair,” he said ever so softly to Catherine. She nodded dumbly as he looked at her. After a moment of studying her, he returned to his own seat.

  :::{)(}:::

  Battle cruisers were built tough. Dreadnaughts were built tougher. A battle cruiser was the smallest capital ship, designed to run down smaller ships and to raid star systems. Dreadnaughts were designed to hammer other ships their size or bigger. To stand the fire of ongoing combat, survive it, and destroy the enemy in the process. She was a bear against a wolf pack. A wounded bear, but still a grizzly that meant business.

  Second Fleet realized quickly that even though the bear had been wounded, the wolves could still fall prey to her tooth and claws. Star Mauler lived up to her name as the DN thundered back her defiance against the federation ships. She turned to expose her flank and then rolled to fire at the enemy fleet. With nothing left to lose her missile tubes went into sprint mode.

  Her maneuver dropped her speed so the lead elements of the federation fleet could overhaul. Up until her turn, the two fleets had been dueling with their bow and chase armaments, each trying to maneuver ever so slightly to bring their flank, dorsal, or keel weapons into play but rarely succeeding.

  Now that all changed in an instant as the dreadnaught with nothing left to lose lit into the point battle cruiser division with a fury born of rage and desperation.

  :::{)(}:::

  Jojo swore as her eyes watched as Justice and Maine took the brunt of the enemy capital ship's initial volley. Justice's fire control was immediately saturated and missiles got through to hammer at her shields. As the ships closed the range, they returned fire but their own damage was too much to spit back coherent fire.

  Then Justice entered the outer engagement zone of Star Mauler's energy weapon's envelope. The missiles that had been hammering at her switched to her division mate as energy weapons that could tear apart a moon licked and tore at her dying shields.

  “Oh frack me,” a rating murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear.

  Justice had similar weapons but far fewer of them. And her crew's focus was on defense and survival, so no answering fire was returned. Before the gunnery crews had a chance to fire, some of the Dreadnaught's graser fire got through her armor and tore the ship apart.

  “Oh, frack me sideways!” he said in bitter tones.

  “That's enough of that. Order Maine to pull back,” Admiral White growled. “Get Second Division to focus fire on that ship until we can hammer her.” he scowled as Maine bucked then listed. Her return fire slacked and died so the dreadnaught switched to another target.

  “Scratch that. Get everyone on that damn ship. I want it torn into splinters,” the Neochimp growled.

  “Now you're talking, sir,” Garfield growled.

  :::{)(}:::

  Captain Samuels shook her head angrily, like a horse trying to get rid of a fly. Finally, she got her head wrapped around the fact that her ship was in sorry straights. “Report?” she croaked out.

  “Do you want the bad news, the worse news, or the frack news?” Lobsterman asked.

  The captain shook her head again, and then winced when throbbing pain hit her shoulder and neck. “I'm guessing bad doesn't cover it,” she said.

  “The good news is the enemy is now ignoring us. They've switched to the rest of the fleet.”

  “Good. I think,” Naomi said as she checked herself over. “Get DCC on a SITREP. Where are we on that?”

  “It's more of a case of finding something that's still functional at this point than what isn't, Skipper,” Lobsterman said, his avatar flickering in and out.

  “You're still here I see,” the captain said.

  “Barely,” the A.I. retorted. “The flag bridge is … messy,” the A.I. said.

  “Frack,” the captain muttered. “We'll count the breakage and mourn the dead later. Let's make sure the living stay that way for the moment,” she said.

  “Amen to that,” the A.I. replied as he brought up a SITREP of the ship. “Here's what I know,” he began to report.

  :::{)(}:::

  Captain Knoll grinned savagely as his ship rocked. They were getting slowly torn apart, but his ship was doing what it was designed to do. She'd destroyed one battle cruiser, lamed or destroyed a second, and had crippled two more. More fire rocked his ship. He didn't have any regrets he thought as he focused the fire onto a third Battle Cruiser Division.

  :::{)(}:::

  “Right about now I'm regretting loosing Bismark,” Commodore Harris said as he limped off his dark flag bridge. “Naomi, how bad is the damage?” he demanded when he exited the compartment. He leaned against the wall to prop himself up. When a tech in a suit came flying by, he made a hole. The tech had more important things to do it seemed.

  “Glad to hear you are still here, sir,” Naomi replied after a moment. He winced and looked down. His implants were holding his leg together, that and the suit. “How bad is it on the flag bridge, sir?”

  “Bad. I'm the only survivor,” Harris growled. “The fleet?”

  “We lost Justice. We're out of the fight; command has shifted to Bismark it seems, sir,” she said.

  “Damn,” the commodore said. He started to limp to the bridge but then thought better of it. He slowly sank to the deck. He propped his good leg up. “I'm going to sit here until you can get someone here,” he said.

  “Bad?” Naomi asked, voice tinged with concern.

  He stared at the slowly bubbling leg. “Bad enough,” he grumbled, watching some of the blood dribble out of his leg and float before it slowly drifted to the deck. The lights flickered then went out. “Damned if I'm going to die sitting on my ass in the dark,” he growled, struggling to rise.

  “Help is on the way, sir. Hang tight,” Naomi said.

  “Right,” Harris said as his vision swam. “Right,” he sighed, leaning the back of his helmet up against the bulkhead. He used both hands to apply pressure to the wound. The tourniquet built into the suit had cut off most of the blood flow, and his implants were blocking the pain receptors. His eyes fluttered. He saw a med tech arrive and waved a feeble hand. “Don't mind me,” he growled. “Naomi, medical is here. Get the ship sorted out pronto.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Naomi replied as she cut the circuit.

  :::{)(}:::

  The dreadnaught might have equivalent weapons, but the battle cruisers it was tangling with had similar ones. A Newman class had dreadnaught class energy weapons for turrets. Because they were BCs, they had far fewer mounts of course, but they could still extract damage from the dreadnaught.

  Star Mauler's defiant ire distracted Second Fleet during the crucial moment of their triumph. They turned on her as she tore into the third and fourth division. She tore into Texas and Alaska as they fought valiantly back and did their best to cover their wounded sister ships. Their unwounded sister ships did their best to intercept the missile fire. Denmark and Dawning of a New Day took further damage as the dreadnaught turned its fire on them.

  But then it was Quirinus' and Bismark's turn. Quirinus was slightly closer. She opened up with her bow weapons, going straight into the other dreadnaught.

  :::{)(}:::

  “Focus all fire on that dreadnaught!” Captain Knoll snarled as wiring and minor explosions erupted around him. The fires were instantly snuffed out; the bridge was in vacuum. That said a lot, since the bridge of the warship was buried deep in her guts.

  “It's like they are trying to ram, sir!” a rating said, coughing as she clung to her station.

  “Maneuvering, emergency blow positive Z. Get us out of her basket!” the captain barked.

  “She's firing!” the same rating said.

  :::{)
(}:::

  Quirinus like other DNs and the old Derfflinger class had a bow-mounted capital force beam emitter set up as a major offensive weapon. With no shields to interdict the fire, the force emitters shredded and tore at Star Mauler's already shredded hull. Her armor buckled and collapsed, ripping in and out as the force emitter switched from presser to tractor in micro second increments.

  It was too much for the structure of the ship as the force emitter kept tearing into her, right to her already weakened and patched skeleton. Too many links in her frame were bent, torn, and cut apart. Suddenly her back broke and the ship came apart. The pieces drifted apart as Quirinus cut her force emitter and then reinforced her bow shields to buffer her way through the wreckage like an umbrella wielding person facing a torrential downpour.

  :::{)(}:::

  Amadeus sat back as tension melted away. It was done, at least part of it. His fleet had paid a heavy toll though. The entire engagement had lasted less than five minutes. Five minutes to take down the titan … but an intense five minutes of fighting. Star Mauler was dead. He was surprised to see the occasional life pod spit from the derelict pieces.

  But her last bitter act of defiance had given the rest of the Retribution Fleet the window it had needed to get clear, charge their hyperdrives, and then escape.

  “Damn it!” Jojo snarled impotently as the last ship jumped.

  “They won't get far,” the admiral growled. “Get SAR out and working now. I want a SITREP on every ship. Garfield, a SITREP on the missiles too if you please—both counter and offense,” he said as he began to issue orders. The Neocat flicked his ears and acknowledgement then turned and bent over his station to get busy.

  “Alec, we can slow down now. I don't want to overshoot the engagement zone now that's it's all over but the crying over the breakage. Get us to a zero zero as quickly as you can,” the admiral ordered. “Kyle, SITREP on all ships. Anyone who needs help let me know. Have the CICs work on finding any Dutchmen out there. I don't care whose side they are, but our people get priority of course.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Jojo, get with comm. Have them talk to everyone. Let the Dutchmen know help is coming.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” his flag lieutenant replied with a dutiful nod.

  “Next lay a comm laser on that courier we left at the Protodon jump point. Start uploading the logs to them. I know it's going to take a while, but get on that, which means we'll need downloads from the other ships. All of them I suppose,” the admiral said.

  “It'll take a while to transmit all that information, sir,” Jojo warned.

  “I know, so get on that now and let the comm section handle the details. Status on Dwight?”

  “He's in surgery, sir. They think he'll keep the leg,” Jojo responded instantly.

  “Good. Can't keep a good man down. Excellent.”

  “Yes, sir. Sir, comm laser is on target. We're waiting on a handshake before we begin the upload. It will take a while at this distance,” Jojo reported.

  “I know. SITREP on the other ships …,” he grimaced.

  “Commodore Vargess has ordered the SAR shuttles out, sir. He's had them prepped. The carriers are moving out to cover the entire battle space,” a comm rating reported.

  “Good,” the admiral said as he started on the next part of the post battle chores.

  Chapter 46

  Admiral De Gaulte closed his eyes briefly in pain as his fleet paid one last debt in blood for their arrogance. He couldn't bear to see Musashi torn apart as the battered Newman gave her all to escape and failed in hyperspace.

  “Musashi is gone, sir. The couriers, Nimitz, Demeantor, Unconquered, six destroyers, and two cruisers are still with us,” Catherine reported quietly.

  “Understood. Get me a DCC SITREP. I want us moving up the octaves as soon as we can.”

  “Should we dispatch the couriers and Nimitz to do so, sir? Nimitz sustained light damage and the couriers none at all,” Catherine asked. “We can have the couriers get ahead to warn the fleet train. I don't know if they can beat the enemy fleet there, but we should try, sir.”

  The admiral cocked his head tiredly, and then nodded. “Okay. Upload a SITREP to them. I know we're in hyper so you have to keep it brief. Short and sweet, then get them off and running. We'll follow at our best speed.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” she said.

  “I feel like I ran a week-long marathon,” the admiral said. “Once we've gotten an idea on where we stand, I want everyone who can to stand down and get some rest. We've earned it,” he said.

  Catherine nodded.

  “Myron, good work,” the admiral said, coming over to the tactical officer. Myron looked up and nodded, then went back to what he was doing. The admiral looked over the other man's shoulder curiously. Blurrily he noted that the TAC officer was downloading weapon SITREPS from the other ships. He snorted, patted the other man on the shoulder. “Keep at it but get some rest this century,” he ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir,” the tactical officer said hoarsely. When the admiral left, he shook his head. He wasn't certain if he could. He was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes he saw ships exploding. He saw missiles flying. Before he'd loved it. Now … now though … the danger had been turned around, made threatening real. All too real. He'd lost a lot of friends in the previous day.

  The only way he was going to get some sleep was if he collapsed, was drugged, or blind drunk.

  When he finished his report, he rose slowly and shakily. The only officer left on duty was Jeremy. He nodded to the navigator. “I don't know about you, but I'm going to go find a bottle of the ship's finest, tuck into a corner, then drink the world away,” he said.

  Jeremy smiled tiredly. “I'd join you but …,” he waved to indicate the bridge. Myron nodded. “Poor sod,” he said. “I'll hoist one in your honor then,” he said.

  “Gee, thanks,” Jeremy said dryly as the tactical officer departed the flag bridge. From the way he was walking, it was like he was already drunk the navigator thought. He shook his head and went back to monitoring the fleet as reports came in.

  It was going to be a while he realized before someone came back to relieve him.

  :::{)(}:::

  Lieutenant Mason Ramichov shook his head as he questioned his good fortune. He was in a life pod, but he wasn't certain for how long. He had no idea how long his air would last. He also didn't know what the enemy would do with him once they found him.

  He'd been tempted to vent the capsule right off, but something inside him forced him to hold off, to wait. To hope and pray it was all a bad dream. He closed his eyes, and then opened them when his fellow survivors began to murmur about a ship approaching them. They felt a jolt and then heard a clank as something latched onto their pod.

  It'll either be quick or he was going to regret living. Either way, he was getting an adventure. Just not the one he'd imagined, he thought bitterly as the hatch began to cycle open.

  :::{)(}:::

  Amadeus shook his head as he looked at the breakage. Justice had been destroyed, rather bitter irony there. Maine would ordinarily be a write-off, but since they needed every capital ship, she'd be salvaged. Texas and Alaska had taken heavy damage as had four of their sister ships. Those six BCs alone were less than 40 percent each. Every dreadnaught, cruiser, and battlecruiser was damaged to various degrees.

  Quirinus hadn't gotten out of the engagement unscathed either. Both dreadnaughts had taken damage, but the newest ship had taken the brunt of Star Mauler's final act. He had already planned to leave any ship less than 60 percent behind. Now he had to rethink that.

  The only healthy ships he had were four of his light cruisers, six of his tin cans, and the carriers. But the carriers didn't have the speed or fire power to chase the enemy down. If the enemy ships turned and got them into their own engagement zones … he shuddered at the thought.

  There was no telling what was waiting for them in B-97A either. According to Captain Song's report, the f
leet train had retreated there. That meant they ran to Dead Drop and back, likely, given the location, but also that they may have picked up reinforcements along the way. He, therefore, had no idea what was waiting for them in the star system. Given what had happened to him the last time, he was leery about sailing into it without scouting first. He dispatched a pair of light cruisers to do so.

  He had another concern. According to Garfield's numbers, his ships had fired half their ordinance in the brief savage engagement. He wasn't comfortable getting too deep into enemy territory with half his fire power. And the lack of intelligence … no, it was best to wait, he reminded himself. He had time.

  Once he'd dispatched a courier with the news to Protodon, he settled in to let his engineers deal with the damage.

  “Sir, you're going to love this,” Kyle said, looking up with a grin.

  “Oh?”

  “SAR just reported in. They picked up someone they think ONI and you need to meet …

  :::{)(}:::

  Catherine closed her eyes as she tried to sleep. Eventually she rolled over and stared at the ceiling above her. Adam was dead. Ordinarily she'd be doing cartwheels but now … not so much. It wasn't just his loss that bothered her; it was the loss of his ship too.

  Mason … Mason was most likely dead. Dead or captured, she wasn't sure. Either way it didn't matter.

  So, she was next in line for the throne, but that bitch of a sister-in-law might be gunning for her. She wasn't certain if she'd need to take steps yet. She'd have to decide on the long road home, she thought as her eyes fluttered and closed. Fatigue toxins finally got the best of her.