Desperate Defense: The First Terran Interstellar War book 1 (Founding of the Federation 4)

by Chris Hechtl

  “So, we're giving you the minimum funding. You should be grateful,” Senator Wagner said.

  “I sense a but coming,” Roman said warily.

  “See? He is a strategist,” Senator Wagner said.

  “When you paint it as broadly as you have Drake, it's a no brainer,” Senator Nguyen drawled.

  “Here is the other shoe,” Senator Dewalt said. “We'll only approve this if you agree to retire on the next promotion cycle if nothing happens.”

  Roman frowned. The next promotion cycle for flag officers was in two years. A 2-year window would work he thought. It would at least let the navy get its feet under itself. They could renege eventually though, he reminded himself.

  “And, you won't enter politics—a nice quiet retirement. We'll even throw you a party,” Senator Nguyen said.

  “Okay, two years. If nothing happens, I'll retire in two years and make room for the next person in line,” Roman said.

  “That was easy,” Senator Wagner said with a grin.

  “Too easy,” Senator Dewalt said, glancing at the others warily.

  “As you said, if nothing happens,” Roman said as he rose from his seat.

  “You do realize it takes eighteen months for a ship to get from Earth to that sector, right?” Senator Dewalt asked.

  “About the same time back, yes; yes, I know,” Roman said as he brushed invisible hairs off his jacket. “That doesn't include what might be in the pipeline now of course. If my leaving means we have some defense, I know that any sacrifice is necessary even my own to make it work,” he said, extending his hand.

  “A deal then,” Senator Dewalt said, pursing his lips as they shook hands.

  ~~*^*~~

  Roman shook his head when he found Senator Camp waiting for him back in his office. “Are you going through with this deal with the devil?” Joe demanded.

  Roman eyed him for a long moment then snorted. “Trust you to know.”

  “You realize it could be years before they arrive. Decades even.”

  “I know that. But if getting the money means my career, so be it. Something is better than nothing,” Roman replied.

  “I think they are embarrassed by what you said to them.”

  “Said to them?” Roman asked.

  Joe snorted. “Don't play innocent with me! I saw the video. Damn good speech. I wish I'd been there! Honestly, the Tommy reference was lost on some, but it hit all of us who have been on the line. It reminded us why we fought and a little bit about what we're still fighting for.”

  “I know.”

  “For some like me, it's a different battlefield,” Joe said pensively as he stroked his throat and then chuffed. “Have you considered what you'd do after you get out? Follow in my footsteps?”

  Roman snorted. “Perish the thought!” he shook his head ruefully. “I have to admit I've had enough of my fill of hill battles, Joe. I'm old. I'm not sure what I can do.”

  “Writing your memoirs from a rocking chair doesn't really fit your image, General,” the Neochimp teased. “I could see you going colonist I suppose …”

  “I never married. I think going colonist is a young man's game. Besides, I don't like the idea of being out there on a planet with dick all above to protect the planet. They are the real losers here, Joe; every moment we waste dickering means some poor schmuck is getting rocks dropped on his head.”

  Joe blinked and then grimly nodded. “That thought had occurred to me. I'm doing what I can.”

  “I know. Sisyphus and an uphill battle. That is what this feels like. Now I've got two boulders to push. Plus, people in the Marine camp wanting to revamp and rebuild with some of the money. I've told them this will not be a Marine war but …,” he sighed heavily.

  “It might if we survive our own stupidity and go on the offense,” Joe said thoughtfully. He tugged on one ear as the human general stared at him. “I don't know.” He shrugged. “Invasion forces, boarding parties, or just security, Marines will be everywhere.”

  “You forgot bars and brothels in that list,” Roman agreed with a snort.

  “I did mention everywhere, didn't I?” Joe said with a brief grin.

  ~~*^*~~

  “That's it? That's all they can cough up for funding?” Admiral Lewis demanded. “That is … an insult is not even good enough ….” He shook his head as they stared at the final numbers on the spreadsheet. Along with the funding had come the authorization for his rank as well as others. He was still subordinate to General Taylor, however, since the general was now considered the Defense Secretary as well as one of the commanders in chief.

  “Be glad it is something,” General Taylor drawled. He didn't want to mention some of the funds were tied to re-opening a couple bases on Earth and revamping them as training stations for naval personnel. Money they desperately needed to build ships and infrastructure going to pork. The recriminations from Senator Calhoun and others would come later he knew. He also fully intended to give the bases the bare minimum funds and personnel. Everyone was going to be hurting; he might as well spread the misery. If the constituents cried hard enough for more, maybe their senators and representatives would listen and kick some more money loose for them.

  Admiral Kepler shook herself. “I'm sorry, sir. But it is ridiculous! How are we supposed to defend the entire star system with that?” she demanded. “It isn't even enough for a proper navy!”

  Roman shrugged. “We do what we always do. We do what we can with what meager offerings they provide to us.” He paused, then smiled briefly. “After that we beg, borrow, and sometimes bully and steal what we need when the shit hits the fan while they scream bloody murder.”

  Admiral Lewis snorted.

  “I'm so not looking forward to this 'I told you so' when it blows up in their face. Our faces,” Jan said darkly.

  “Better hope it doesn't. It won't be 'I told you so' so much as hand-wringing and demands for an accounting on why we couldn't do more with the pittance they gave us and how we squandered that. Believe me,” Roman said with a shake of his head. “Squeeze everything you can out of this, Jan; believe me, we'll need it. Keep taking and soliciting for donations too. I know Joe, Senator Camp,” he paused to exchange a small thin smile of approval with Admiral Lewis, “is working a bill in to give the corporations and those who donate a tax rebate. Something to sweeten the deal. There is also talk of more war bonds,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Those …,” Jan's face puckered in a sour expression.

  “They have to get the money somewhere. I think once the corporate lobbyists, especially those who own the yards and industry get involved, they'll shake the money tree a bit harder.”

  “Yeah, and use it to line their own pockets,” Jan grumbled darkly.

  “As long as we get a tithe, I have to be okay with that. Besides, if they steer jobs to build a plant in a place, as long as we get the plant and the products of that plant, I'm all for it,” Roman said firmly. “Besides, the plant has to produce something, so they'll have to pay for that too. Once those people are employed, you'll want to keep them employed.”

  Jan nodded at the strategic implications he'd just laid out. “Understood. Get the engine going, and it might be self-perpetuating. But this isn't enough.”

  “Popguns and paper tigers, I know. Train as many people as you can on them until we can get you better equipment, Admiral,” Roman said.

  “Just as long as you get something in the pipeline. And I mean soon.” Jan said firmly. “Going up against a warship, especially that big mother, in a tug isn't something I want to do in my worst nightmare,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Agreed. But we'll do it if it comes to that or extinction,” Admiral Lewis pointed out.

  Jan closed her eyes in pain. “You would remind me of that,” she murmured. It had suddenly become very real, not a game. There was no reset, no do-overs she reminded herself. They had to get it right. Preferably the first time since they may never get a second chance.


  “Believe me, I know. The penny pinchers piss and moan about the money 'we're wasting,' but we're the ones putting our lives on the line when the time comes. I reminded them of that once before. If I have to, I'll do it again. But I'm trying to let bygones be bygones and not sharpen any hatchets for them. Live and let live and try to get along.”

  “Just as long as they bury the hatchet in something other than your back, General,” Admiral Lewis said darkly.

  Roman started to open his mouth to reply, but decided against it in an instant. He knew it wouldn't do any good so he shrugged such considerations away. “Just do what you can. Part of my job is to take the heat if necessary. Just …”

  “ …Don't let it become necessary. Gotcha General,” Admiral Lewis replied with a nod as he shot a significant look to Jan. She nodded as well.

  ~~*^*~~

  Yorrick had heard about his sister's tit for tat from Krawley. He quietly got behind the naval appropriations bill. His sister's petty vindictive streak was going to get them all killed he thought; just one more reason he was no longer speaking with his sister. They barely cooperated on the board, he was only civil with her there in the room with others watching. She seemed coldly indifferent, seeming to think he'd eventually come crawling back to her.

  He on the other hand had found someone finally. He hadn't been looking; he'd been more or less wedded to his playboy image until he'd been without Wendy's influence. Then he'd realized he'd missed the companionship of a partner. One thing had led to another, and he'd met Padme.

  Padme Scolnik had lit up his life like no one else had. She was warm, bright, and sunny and made him want to be a better man. She encouraged him to be that better man just with her smile. She never asked anything of him, never asked for money, and was okay in bed.

  He liked that she was shy; it meant he could have her all to himself. He also knew she was beautiful, even though her low self-esteem didn't see it at first.

  He was still running the yard, but it was no longer the only love of his life. Now though, now he had a reason for running it right though. For wanting someone to approve of what he was doing, something he could go home and talk about and make her proud of him.

  She was also keenly worried about the alien threat. He did his best to throw as much resources to the navy as he could get away with. Whenever he had some free time in the office he looked up history books. There he found out a bit about volunteer projects during WWII. He pitched the idea to Rick Krawley, the union president, as well as the supervisors and representatives. Some were skeptical; they saw it as the company getting free labor. They had a point about that he reminded himself. Rick finally pointed out Wendy wouldn't back them or pay for them on the back end.

  Yorrick nodded, conceding the point. “No, she wouldn't. I'm not asking for her. I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for you. For you, your kids, and the future. I don't know when the aliens will show up. I know eventually they will. Not here at first, heaven help us if they do anytime soon!” Rick grimaced. Everyone knew about the sorry state of the military. “No, most likely they'll show up in orbit of a colony. Imagine those people, I bet you know at least one person who has gone to a colony! Imagine them helpless to an alien invasion. Now, I ask you, do you want to sit on your ass and bitch or pitch in and help?”

  Rick eyed him for a long moment and then snorted. “Not a bad pitch. Not a great one, but not too shabby. Maybe there is a bit of your dad's grit in there buried after all. But what about your sister? What will she say?”

  “You let me worry about her,” Yorrick growled.

  “And if there is an accident?” Rick asked. “Legal will be all over it. Who will be liable?”

  “I'll take the heat. I'll go on record, sign the wavers. It's my ass. This has to be done,” Yorrick said firmly. “This is my show. All on me.”

  Rick nodded slowly. “I'm not making any promises. You probably won't get more than a couple people donating a few minutes here and there. Maybe an hour or two.” A few of the union reps continued to look skeptical.

  “Whatever we can get, I'll take. I'm not looking any gift horses in the mouth,” Yorrick said firmly as he opened a small closet and then pulled out his space suit. He pulled out a divider and then began to suit up.

  “Where are you going?” Rick asked, eyes wide in surprise.

  “I'm going to help too,” Yorrick replied. “I know the Marines have a ship in the yard. I can do something to help it along.”

  Chase Daigle stared at him. “On the line?”

  “Yes. Anywhere I can. I'll do make work, whatever it takes.”

  “You are serious,” Rick said dubiously. He'd never seen Yorrick out of his business suit, let alone out in the yard doing actual labor other than the occasional inspection or tour.

  “Set an example. Dad taught me that,” Yorrick replied as he finished suiting up. “That and never ask someone to do something you aren't willing to do yourself.”

  “Well, better late, but I'm glad something's rubbing off from your dad on you,” Chase said as he looked to the others. “Let's see if it sticks,” he said. He knew the game. Go out, set an example once, then sit back, and kick it while others did the real work.

  “It'd better. But don't tell Wendy. I'll get my ass reamed for being later home for supper as it is,” Yorrick said as he fumbled his helmet on.

  Rick glanced at Chase and the others before he cleared his throat. “First, put the helmet on when we get to the lock. You look like a noob walking around inside with it on. Tuck it under your arm,” he said with a shake of his head. Yorrick paused to look at him. “The same for the gloves. Toss them in the helmet. Second, do a thorough suit check. You'll need a buddy. I suppose I can go get my suit and lend you a hand too …”

  “Ah, hell,” Chase said with a shake of his head. “I'll tag along.”

  A few of the other union reps agreed. Yorrick felt his heart soar a little.

  Chapter 18

  February 2235

  When an additional funding bill was passed, it came with a rider; the volunteer ships were nationalized. Most of the ship owners would be compensated out of the additional funding bill, Admiral Lewis knew.

  Admiral Lewis wasn't certain what to make of the hodgepodge arrangement. Dozens of claimants came out of the woodwork to turn over a “ship” and get paid top dollar for it. Some were sublight ships that had sat in mothballs for years. A few had leans and other legal issues clouding the titles. He pulled in Captain Renoir and Admiral Kepler to go over some of the best-looking ones.

  Two asteroid bases had come up with the same idea; they had started to turn asteroids into ships. The trio of officers stared at the images of the still unnamed ship. The makers had scaffolding made out of truss segments for a frame. The core of the ship was a hollowed-out asteroid. Components and equipment were attached to the frame or asteroid. They could just make out cables and hoses strung along the frame connecting various pieces of equipment. Satellite dishes and antenna were in the nose as well as flanks. There were improvised turrets and even fixed missile tubes. "I get the idea, but do they get that rock isn't much armor? I mean, its rock!" Jan protested.

  "Exactly. But we'll take what we can get," Admiral Lewis said as he came to a decision. "And we'll thank them doing it."

  "You aren't serious! That thing is a disaster waiting to happen!"

  "And it's the biggest ship in our inventory," Admiral Lewis said. "We're going to make it work. At least until we have better ships available." The ship in question was one of three. The other two had yet to leave dock. The designers had gleefully dived into a junk pile of used ship components for their major components, so there was of course the question of if it would even run. They'd slapped together engines and even cobbled together improvised weapons.

  "Ah," Captain Renoir said softly. Admiral Kepler glanced over to the captain for his outburst. The captain looked back at her impassively.

  "A training platform," she said with a nod. “Get the bugs out with that.�
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  "Anything to cover us until something better comes along. We'll refit it when we have time."

  "It is a death trap. They all are. By rights they should be scrapped … but I see your point. Something right now is better than having our collective asses hanging out there bare ass in the solar breeze," she said.

  "Hell of a sunburn," Captain Renoir quipped.

  Admiral Kepler's lips quivered in a barely suppressed smile.

  Admiral Lewis did have a point she thought. The main ship would be over a kilometer long, by far their largest ship. The improvised armor though, made out of pieces of scrap plate tacked together with rocks, didn't make it look at all healthy survival-wise though. The two other ships were roughly three hundred to four hundred meters each. How they'd be able to handle acceleration, maneuvering … she winced. She could see some computer time on the engineering servers in the near future once they had the hard schematics.

  “I'm thinking the rocks might be to our advantage if we handled it right,” Admiral Lewis mused, rubbing his chin. That made Jan and the other officers stop their own thoughts to turn to him in speculation. Under their gaze, he shrugged. “Think camouflage,” he said.

  “I see your point, sir,” Captain Renoir agreed after a moment.

  “Good. You were supposed to get the first destroyer but the design has been frozen again due to a problem with the power train,” Admiral Lewis said. “So, you are going to take the asteroid capital ship.”

  “Sir?” Captain Renoir said with a sinking sensation.

  “You heard me. Get the bugs out of her. You'll be skipper of her for at least three months. I expect her to be sorted out or as close to perfection as you can get,” the admiral said.

  Captain Renoir stared at him, clearly horrified by the impossible command. But he knew an order was an order. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” the admiral said as he downloaded everything onto a chip and then handed it to the captain. “Get going.”