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

by Chris Hechtl

  “That was fast,” the secretary of industry said.

  “That's because we had the general idea already; we just needed to reinvent the wheel,” Roman said, smiling humorlessly. “Most of the technology had been in use in Earth's militaries before the A.I. war. We've had to adapt them to space once we got the basic concepts down.”

  “We'll be pulling the existing ships in for refit within a month. The next generation of ships will have the hardware built in of course,” Admiral Lewis added.

  “Understood,” the president said. “I want you looking into offensive actions, Admiral. One of my first acts as president is to introduce a bill to the floor to triple the budget of the navy. That will go through shortly.”

  “Understood. Thank you, sir.”

  “Anything else? We need to keep this short and sweet; my wives are going to get antsy that I'm not putting in an appearance,” the president quipped.

  “Not at this time, Mister President,” Roman said with a glance to the admiral. The admiral flicked his hand to say it could wait.

  “Very well, next customer,” the president said, turning to the next in the cabinet.

  ~~*^*~~

  Trevor Hillman knew he was slowing down and that he was having problems. He also knew without even hacking his own medical record that the news from the battery of tests the doctor had him undergo that the news wouldn't be good. He sat in the chair and waited as the doctor went over the records one last time.

  “I'll cut to the chase,” the Neogorilla doctor said turning back to him. We've known for some time that you are having problems with your cybernetics interfacing with your nervous system. Encapsulation is a problem. Your white blood count is very high. You also have blood clots, and I don't believe the current level of blood thinners you are on are enough.”

  “I see.”

  “I'm sorry to say you've got a couple months. We've got you on the most-advanced blood thinners on the market, Doctor, but there isn't much more we can do to improve your quality of health,” his doctor said gently.

  “Anything else we can do?”

  “You need to reduce your workload and stress level. Get plenty of rest. We'll see if we can get rid of the blood clots with ultrasonics and surgery. Are you in any pain?”

  Trevor frowned. When a doctor said that, he knew it was bad. “No, Doc,” Trevor lied.

  The doctor looked at him and then nodded slowly. “Okay. If you are, let my office know, and we'll issue you some pain medication. Go light on using your cybernetics and definitely stop interfacing directly with hardware. It is causing some of the scar tissue and burns. I'm surprised you haven't had a seizure by now.”

  Trevor took the news as well as he could. When he got back to his office, he moved slowly.

  “How did it go?” Cassie asked him.

  “Let's just say we need to get that transference method up and debugged soon,” Trevor said heavily. Cassie gasped in dismay. “Nature is having her way with me I guess you could say.”

  “Damn,” Cassie murmured. “I'm so sorry, boss,” she said in sympathy.

  “Yeah, I think damn just about covers it. Come on, we've got work to do.”

  ~~*^*~~

  Roger Daringer was still adapting to the academy, but at least for the moment, he was back in his element. His class watched the inauguration while in transit back to Mars for a training mission and tour of the yards and new construction. They were going to be allowed a weekend off with their families before they had to return to Earth for finals.

  The navy was on high alert though. Something that everyone was aware of and some were chattering about. Both squadrons of destroyers and frigates had been completed and were off doing working-up exercises near the Altair jump point with the rest of the fleet, such as it was at the moment.

  “Watch your readings,” Lieutenant Rogers ordered.

  “Roger that,” Roger replied, then felt his lips twitch in an almost smile before he schooled his face under Wes's gaze. He could tell Wes was fuming over something, but he hadn't quite found out what yet. It had taken him half the trip to finally recognize the guy from his family's business.

  Since he had pilot skills, he'd been tapped to work the shuttle's engineering board during a shift. He'd relieved Renee Lewis, another familiar face and name.

  He shook himself slightly and then went back to checking the gauges. There was no telling if or when the lieutenant might throw him a curve ball with an unexpected simulation.

  ~~*^*~~

  Wes fumed quietly as he scanned the control panel. The shuttle was on autopilot, but that didn't mean you abandoned the cockpit. Besides, running the middies through the cockpit kept them busy, gave them real world experience, and drove home the importance of attention to their duties. He just wished he was not the one being stuck on babysitting duty as the shuttle pilot and senior officer on the trip. He even outranked the instructor chaperon.

  It pissed him off no end that he'd drawn the shuttle duty over his promised transfer to a fighter wing. He knew one thing; he was going to file a grievance once he got back to the academy. If the navy wasn't interested in putting him where they had promised, he intended to resign his commission if necessary and go back to flying civilian. It damn well paid better.

  ~~*^*~~

  Yorrick Lagroose felt his chest swell with pride as he escorted the midshipman on the tour. They probably hadn't expected him of all people to lead the tour. He hadn't intended to do so, but when the opportunity had arisen he'd taken it.

  “As you can see here, we've got the first four cruisers under construction,” he said, stepping to the side so they could see the cruiser bay. Inside the brightly-lit construction bay, a grand block was being maneuvered into place.

  “This is a pretty finicky maneuver to get right. We have to get the block within a few millimeters of the touch points in the ship. If we're off, we can throw off the next block and so on. The tug pilots have to be aware that if they push too hard they can warp some sections too. It might look like grunt work, but there is some delicacy in the way you handle such pieces.”

  He turned to them with a smile. For the first time in a long time, the yard was nearly at capacity. A second wave of destroyers were in construction bays nearby. They were the second generation of that class—all taking advantage of what they'd learned building the first eight ships while also taking on new and resurrected hardware.

  “Some of you might serve on one of these ships in the near future. I'm counting on you to treat them right,” he said with a nod.

  “Are they interstellar?” Renee Lewis asked.

  “No. I'm afraid not, but we can upgrade them. That is part of the modular design,” Yorrick replied. He left out the part that even with the upgrade the ships would have a very short jump range.

  “When will they be -ready to launch?” Roger asked hopefully.

  “Oh, not for at least another six months. These are three times the size of the destroyers,” Yorrick replied with a look to Roger. “We had to pause the design when we got the information from Speedwell and then make some modifications. If we got it right they should give the alien cruisers a hell of a fight,” Yorrick said proudly.

  “Do we have six months?” Renee asked softly.

  “I don't know if you know, but we just received the final design of the first battle cruiser class this morning,” Yorrick announced. That earned a murmur of respect and excitement in the group as he motioned them to move on. “The design passed the final review stages and we've already begun ramping up parts for the logistics. At the moment, it will share nearly seventy percent of the parts of the cruisers,” Yorrick said. “So, get familiar with them and you'll know most of the engineering of the battle cruisers. And they will be proper starships,” Yorrick said with a grin.

  “So we can take the fight to the enemy. Cool,” Roger murmured.

  “Exactly,” Wes agreed.

  Yorrick glanced at them and then nodded. “The researchers are making great stride
s in resurrecting technology and systems we had known about but had never been designed for space. Electronic Counter Measures for instance,” Yorrick replied. “Defensive systems and armor materials as well. The war is doing what all wars do; it is sparking innovation and driving a new wave of engineering and scientific exploration. And from my perspective, we're finding new ways to ramp up production and get the costs down.” He smiled but didn't continue that thought further. They had quietly resurrected the nanotech research programs. It would take time, but he was confident that they'd have them fully online to supplement the little nanotech that they were currently allowed to use in the manufacturing of starships and molecular circuitry.

  “Now, we've got a destroyer a week away from completion. We can't get into every compartment, but let's get you some hard hats and you can take a tour of that ship,” Yorrick said with a grin as his audience picked up in enthusiasm. “After that we'll have a quick bite to eat, some Q and A, and then you folks will be off to your families. That sound good to you?”

  The audience grinned at him or made soft applause sounds. He nodded. “Let's do it then. Follow me,” he said, indicating the way to the shuttle.

  ~~*^*~~

  Former Senator Tamara Calhoun refused to go away quietly. A small but growing group of Peaceniks coalesced around her and began to hold protests. Some were on Mars so she tried to organize a sit-in to shut down a shipyard. It failed utterly; they couldn't get past security.

  They did have a point about some of the war profiteers in the industry. Calling them out on such practices drew attention to their cause. The former senator's insider knowledge allowed them to feed juicy bits to the media to give themselves legitimacy to themselves and their other claims.

  "Can't we all just get along?" Senator Calhoun asked plaintively during an online discussion. “I mean, it's a big enough galaxy, right?”

  "Tell them that!" a viewer texted.

  "Why haven't you tried??" another viewer texted.

  "We did. You're not listening. We've tried—over and over. It's not getting through. Might makes right. You either defend what you've got or get robbed!" another user texted back.

  “In our case, it might be worse. We're not just fighting to protect our homes; we may be fighting to protect our species from extinction. Has anyone really thought about that?” another user asked.

  "But … they surely must love peace! War is so wasteful!" another user texted.

  "Indeed, it is. But we have to fight to protect ourselves. There is no other way. Perhaps once we stop them, they will listen. They are like charging animals, ignoring all requests to stop and talk. We have a choice, get out of the way or play matador," another user said.

  "That's bad for the bull," another user texted. Tamara felt frustration as her discussion was hijacked.

  "Bull hell, I'm more worried about us right now!" the same user replied.

  Chapter 31

  “So, I was thinking, now that we've got the first cruiser hull laid down and we've gotten permission for three follow-ons, I'd like to see if we can maybe work on the missile production facilities a bit more. Specifically, I like the idea of building our own. That way we have better control over the quality of the end product and we won't be delayed,” Jan said.

  “You think the lobbyists will allow us to do that?” Admiral Lewis asked and then waited. Jan was on her way to the fleet force so she was several light minutes out. She had orders to remain with Argus since none of the twelve ships in the initial picket force lacked a flag deck.

  He had Freedom, the last of the first-generation destroyers. Freedom had sacrificed two of her missile tubes and a quarter of her magazine in order to shoehorn in a cramped flag deck and accommodations. He couldn't wait until Republic was completed. Each of the cruisers as well as the carriers had its own flag deck since they were supposed to act as command ships for the flotilla of destroyers and frigates.

  “I don't see why not. We will still buy the design from a research and development firm and license its production. But at a lower rate. They have less overhead.”

  The admiral frowned at that. “An interesting idea. I think …”

  “Sir, we've gotten a report of a hyperspace emergence at the Altair jump point. Based on the gravitational wake and energy discharge, it's a big one,” Nelson interrupted. “We're still getting data; the energy is blinding our sensors however.”

  “Frack. Go to Alert One,” Admiral Lewis ordered.

  “I think our time just ran out,” the A.I. ensign said quietly.

  “Let's hope not.”

  “Jan, I bet you are getting the alert before I am. Get to Argus and take command. We need to concentrate,” the admiral ordered.

  ~~*^*~~

  As data about the star system and its occupants came into the herd bridge, the Beta bull stared in shock, awestruck by the plot. Here was not a colony but something far more than he'd bargained for. The sensor spoor told his people that there were numbers of habitats, some artificial, some not that were in the eight of eights and possibly eight of eight of eights!

  There was not one habitable world but two! Another world seemed to be occupied too, and there were moons that seemed life bearing. His communications bulls were deafened by the chatter going around the star system.

  Here he'd found a herd world. The possibility suddenly paralyzed him for a long moment.

  Finally, the report of the alien ships started to come in. There were ships out there, many eights of ships, but the majority seemed small and not suited for combat. Some were coming in his direction, others were fleeing.

  Those that were coming to battle were small, far smaller than he'd believed. Where were the true ships? Had he caught the home herd without them he wondered? Had they gone to defend their colonies?

  If this was the best the enemy had, he'd stomp them into debris and then tear their home herd apart piece by piece he vowed.

  ~~*^*~~

  Despite the intrusion, Constitution followed protocol and the ROE and broadcast warnings and tried to make contact with the enemy ships. “If you continue on the course you are following, we will be forced to judge you as hostile and act accordingly,” Captain Yuanja said, sticking to the script.

  He was pretty sure his twelve small ships weren't very intimidating. The enemy's ships certainly were.

  The eight frigates were out in front of his four destroyers in a 3-dimensional wedge formation as a screen. Invincible had point with the defensive frigates Aegis trailing her by ten thousand kilometers on her starboard flank, and Surprise on her port flank. Invincible's sister ships Independence was high, and Indus was low. Behind them on the same plane as the Invincible in the pocket was Inch Arran since she was the last ship of her class to have launched.

  On either flank, another ten thousand kilometers out, were the missile frigates Archer and Javelin. Behind them all were the four destroyers with Constitution bringing up the rear.

  If the shooting started, the four shooter frigates would fire the initial offense while the Aegis ships would defend the task force. The missile frigates would move up to fire a fusillade when one or more of the frigates took damage and needed to withdraw.

  His destroyers would move in to help with either the offense or defense as required.

  That was the plan at any rate. But he was uncomfortably aware of the old axiom of “no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

  “I don't think they're listening, sir,” the tactical officer said softly.

  He glanced over to her and then nodded. “But we have to try. We're going to go after just one of the cruisers,” he said. “The one closest to us. Nav, shape a firing pass course. We need to get in deep enough to ensure some hits but not too deep that we're going to get chewed up in the process.”

  “The geometry doesn't favor us, sir,” the navigator warned.

  “Do your best.”

  “Yes, sir. If the TO will work with me for a moment?” the navigator asked. The tactical officer nodded an
d turned to the navigator to help plug in her numbers.

  ~~*^*~~

  Roman briefed President Camp. “They aren't responding to hails as expected. Unfortunately, what we know is old; the time lag at this range is a killer,” he warned.

  “What can we do?” the Neochimp asked. He already knew the answer.

  The human general shook his head as he met those brown worried eyes with his own. “Not a lot. Tell people to get to shelter. Try to remain calm. It's in the hands of Admiral Lewis and the navy now, sir,” Roman replied.

  “I was afraid you'd say something like that,” President Camp said ruefully as he picked up his phone and initiated the emergency broadcast network on all stations.

  ~~*^*~~

  Admiral Lewis felt like he was in a mad rush to Freedom. He was; he just wasn't the one doing the driving he reminded himself. He didn't remember the headlong run to the shuttle's boat bay. He was glad Ensign Nelson had gathered his small flag staff on board in time. None of them had so much as a toothbrush though.

  His shuttle managed to make dock a moment before the ship went to full bore on her engines. They could feel the acceleration and hear the linkage to the ship groan before the inertial dampeners kicked in.

  “I think we need to get off this tub,” the admiral said as he debarked ahead of his staff. He was following tradition not cowardice he reminded himself as he gave a quick salute on the other side of the boarding ramp and then took off at a trot for the flag bridge.

  “All hands, prepare for full acceleration,” a voice said over the intercom as the admiral got to his flag bridge. He paused and braced as the ship kicked. He felt the G's build and then slack off as the inertial dampeners kicked in and smoothed out the ride.

  “What fun,” he rasped out.

  “Is everyone going, sir?” Ensign Sedong asked as she made her way past him onto the bridge.