by Chris Hechtl
Garrot and her division mate had already gone dark several days prior. They had strict orders to stick to the periphery of the star system and observe. After a set period of time, one of them would bring their gathered data back to Dead Drop if no other ships arrived to pick it up. The other two ships were going to work their way around the edge of the system in an attempt to get behind the Federation forces and jump to B-97C or B-97B.
He understood the plan. Admiral De Gaulte wanted to send another raiding mission to hit Second Fleet's logistics train from behind or at least keep them guessing. The mission was tantamount to a suicide mission, but both ships had volunteered. Their crews were either brazen or crazy. He wished them the best of luck.
They were going to need it.
~~~^~~~
“It’s clear, sir; they left two ships behind. Their stealth isn't that great, but they are getting religion fast. We're working on running them down now,” Garfield reported.
“Keep on it. As long as those two ships are here playing cat and mouse with us, we can't do anything about the ansible platform,” he stated. Despite the valiant efforts of the pilots and ships in the area, the repeated weapons fire at the platform had done the job. The platform had been turned into a colander. Her self-destruct had finished the job, adding insult to injury.
CIC was aware the enemy ships were there; the neutrino detectors told the story. The problem was the neutrino detectors only told them that the enemy was still around; they couldn't get a definitive lock at range. They were obviously running under stealth.
He considered creating a trap, sending a ship into hyper to drop out and box them in but dropped the plan.
The other problem was the two ships that had gone wide to deep space on a course for the general vicinity of the B-97 jump zone. He already knew what was going on there.
~~~^~~~
Jane Darling swore tiredly under her breath as she came into the tight confines of Lady Liberty's port hangar deck. No launch catapults, no carrier wing even though she was the acting CAG. It was a promotion on paper, but to what?
She hated the assignment. She hated that she was a CAG with a single squadron of fighters and another of support craft. She hated that the battle cruiser was chasing phantoms and that the skipper had her and her people out sniffing. They didn't have the sensors for the job. The best they could do was act as beaters.
Was that their job? Look stupid and obvious to drive the enemy towards a hidden net? She wasn't sure. She was too tired at the moment to try to find out too.
~~~^~~~
Amadeus read the latest report and frowned. A week had passed, and they'd lost track of the enemy. That wasn't a good sign, especially with the number of platforms at his disposal. His staff sat there quietly around the table, waiting for him to digest it. “So, we know two stuck around, two went on to B-97 to try to raid our shipping again, and the rest went home? Is that what you are telling me here?” he asked as he set the tablet down.
“Essentially, yes, sir. That's what the sensor reports confirm. What ships went and remained, we're not certain of,” Garfield explained.
“Ah.”
The admiral frowned and turned away.
“Sir?” the Veraxin chief of staff asked, prompting him to action.
“Put the word out of course. But I think two can play that game,” Admiral White mused as he swung his chair back and forth for a moment.
Garfield was the first to sit up straight, ears up and locked on the admiral.
“Sir?” the Veraxin commander asked, indicating second-degree confusion.
“You heard me,” the admiral said as he turned to the group. “De Gaulte wants a raid? We can do that. Select a squadron of cruisers and a CEV. We're sending them in.”
“To chase the enemy out, sir?”
“No. You misunderstand him,” Garfield interjected. The Veraxin swiveled two of his eyestalks to the orange Neocat. “He's saying we're going to raid the enemy—to Dead Drop.”
“To Dead Drop and beyond,” the Neochimp admiral said as he sat up and placed his elbows on the edge of the table and clasped his hands together in front of him. “We're going to raid them. They are being reinforced. They are getting shipments of material in. Well, we're going to keep them busy and hamper that.”
“Yes, sir,” Garfield said with relish. He grinned, wiggling his whiskers as he picked up the tablet in front of him. “I've been looking forward to an opportunity to show them they don't have a lock on commerce raiding, sir. With our stealth and other systems, we'll rip them a new one.”
The admiral wasn't the only one to give the Neocat a bemused look. He flicked his ears as he lowered his eyes and began to issue orders.
“Eloquently said. Let's make it happen,” the admiral growled.
Chapter 22
Antigua
News of the attack on Dd01ns hit the Admiralty. “They are recovering, sir. They are getting back on their feet,” Odette warned.
“I know,” Admiral Irons said, reading the report again. He pursed his lips in thought. Lieutenant Rowland had pointed out that the cruiser squadron was new to them but had cautioned that the range had been long.
He didn't like that they'd targeted the ansible platform. It was the smart move, cut off their communications. Obviously, Amadeus was on top of the situation and had positioned a goalie to protect the invaluable instillation from further attack.
“The prowler should be in Dead Drop and on its way to Garth by now.”
“Did you put in orders to TF3.2, sir?” Odette asked carefully.
“No. They have a SITREP. The prowler will drop a beacon for them as close to their entry jump point as they safely can get. I don't know if they'll be there in time for TF3.2's arrival. I don't think our luck is that good to be honest.”
“Never underestimate Lady Luck's blessings,” Admiral Pashenkov stated.
“I'm more concerned with Murphy and his gremlins actually,” Admiral Irons replied dryly. “ETA on the reinforcements?”
“The first flotilla has arrived. TF2.4 is in transit from Protodon and is out of contact,” Sprite stated.
“So, we can't warn them about the two cruisers coming their way? Joy,” Odette said sourly.
“Exactly. They could pass each other at different times or have a surprise encounter. We don't know at this point.”
“Lovely.”
“The Home Fleet detachment should be getting to Protodon in two weeks if they kept to their best available speed,” Sprite continued. “BuShips is working on pushing additional ships out as quickly as possible.”
“I think we're scraping the bottom of the barrel to be honest,” Odette grumbled. She hated seeing her carefully-constructed squadrons being torn apart. That was not the proper way to run a fleet or a war. But, they had to reinforce Second Fleet or lose all the territory they had gained as well as the initiative.
“Keep on it.”
“Are you still considering the Lemnos mission?” Sprite asked carefully.
Odette, Georgi, and Yorgi all turned their eyes on Admiral Irons. He grimaced at being put on the spot. “No. It is on hold for the time being. We're not going to kick the ships free until we get the war front stabilized and news from Pi on whether the pirates have unleashed their bioweapons there or not.”
“Understood.”
~~~^~~~
Vestri leaned against the railing, barely standing above it as he looked on to the convoy coming in to dock. He knew the routine but sometimes he needed to see it with his own eyes just to remind him how far they had come.
Each of the ships were being guided in by tractors as well as tugs. Spotlights played against their hulls as the small ships moved around them. One by one they found a birth between U shaped cradles. Once they were anchored robotic arms reached out to plug in hoses to replenish fuel and liquids while docking arms swung out and connected to airlocks on the flanks.
And from there he knew that inside those arms they wouldn't even bother to pressu
rize them. The cargo would line up with rails in the arms and then the electromagnets would kick on and freight would begin to move out of the ship in a steady stream as fast as the crew could manage.
“Playing hooky, Captain?” a voice asked from behind him. He grunted and then turned to see Admiral Creator of Things with Admiral Champion.
“Not quite. I needed to stretch my legs,” he said, making a show of stretching his short legs. “My rump gets rather numb when it's stuck shining a chair all day,” he said cheerfully.
Admiral Champion snorted. “Tell me about it,” she drawled as she came over and stood beside him to look at the view beyond the glass. “Impressive. Just like home in so many ways—yet different,” she said quietly.
“It's getting there, Ma'am,” Vestri replied.
“Slowly. The quality is improving,” the T'clock admiral stated.
Vestri nodded. More shipments were coming in from factories that were still getting up to speed across the Federation. Most were still making simple parts, but more technological places were starting to produce better parts under license. They were shipping the parts to Antigua, ET, and Pyrax where the yards were. All of the yards were in full swing and expanding regularly to keep up with the production and demand.
“I understand the schools are barely keeping up, even though they just quadrupled the graduation rate of the previous year. That's across the board, enlisted, noncommission training, the mustangs, colleges, the A.I. nurseries and schools, and the academies,” Vestri stated. “I ran into a couple issues in the recent launchings. BUPERS wanted us to delay one because they didn't have a full command team,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I know, I heard,” Admiral Champion stated. “And it still isn't enough,” the admiral said. She left aside the silent revulsion of hearing about mustangs in the officer corps let alone A.I.
“No. And all those kids have rough edges and are noobs. They've got book learning but little to no hands-on. But they are warm bodies and willing, spirits of space are they willing,” Vestri said.
Admiral Champion cracked a smile as she gave him a sidelong look. “Got a few eager puppies?”
“Yeah,” he said in a droll voice. “You could say that. They mean well, at least, that's what I keep telling myself every time I trip on them.”
Admiral Champion chuckled softly. “All that doesn't include Bek or Nuevo though.”
“No, no, it doesn't, ma'am. It makes me wonder though what the enemy is producing in comparison. We've got the better tech base and personnel since we've got all the species pulling for us, but they've got a hell of a head start. And word is they've spread out across the galaxy. There is no telling what they've got in storage in Horath, let alone in the pipeline.”
Admiral Champion grimly nodded her previous brief burst of levity forgotten. “I know. Throw in other factors and it can get ugly. I was about to make a wry comment about how the rest of the Federation is getting up there with Bek but now I see it's a race.”
“I know. One we have to win. We just have to,” Vestri stated.
“Roger that. So, what else can we do to kick things into high gear?” Admiral Creator of Things asked. “Other than screaming and breathing down certain obstinate necks. We've finished the recent round of block upgrades I understand. Admiral Irons hasn't countersigned another since they are so disruptive.”
“I know,” Admiral Champion stated. “The good news is you are doing incremental increases in some departments. Minor increases in efficiency so we don't have to train for them. The armor though …”
“Is still a work in progress,” Vestri grumbled.
“I know. And I heard the design board is already looking at all new designs?” Admiral Champion asked, looking down at him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are they insane? Or just justifying their jobs?”
“Insane maybe. Glutton for punishment in some ways I suppose,” Vestri replied with an indifferent shrug.
“Well, I'm not ready to sign off on any of the designs until we've had a lot more input. Bright ideas are nice, but I've seen too many go down in flames and bring people down with them.”
“Agreed.”
“So, back to the obstinate issue,” Admiral Creator of Things prompted. He was still having trouble back channeling with his staff. Fortunately, the captain had the entire yard hardwired and knew practically everything.
“I'll send you a list, Admiral. For the moment, we have to deal with the bureaucrats plus the budget issues. There are fights brewing in the senate over the next budget proposals and we haven't even gotten our input on them. With everything that happened in Tau and the front, it is going to get ugly.”
“Joy. Playing in the halls of power isn't my first choice, but I can do it as long as I'm not stuck in the hot seat under oath. What else?”
Admiral Champion snorted but nodded in agreement.
Vestri turned to face them. “Well, if you are glutton for punishment, sir, ma'am …”
~~~^~~~
The Senate Science Committee seemed pleased with seeing movement on the Pocketbook project. But then pointed hints from the media about the dangers inherent in the technology started to make its way through to them. Initially, staff members brushed the concerns off. But then some of the talking heads got them thinking.
Requests for more information to the scientists and backers at first hit a wall or assurances that a failure was remote. When pressed the scientists admitted it was a concern. They fell behind Professor Gwildor, head of Eternia University's Physics Department, to act as their spokesman. “But we're not there yet! We need to get it working in a lab first. We know our ancestors did it. We can do better but that takes time! The chances of failure … you shouldn't stifle scientific advances on a what if! If that had happened, we'd all be chipping rocks in a cave in front of a fire!”
“No, I disagree. We should be thinking of the risks now,” Senator Chuck Grassley said as he considered the problem with fresh eyes. Something that Admiral Irons had said came back to him. “Could and should,” he murmured thoughtfully.
The professor blinked. “Excuse me, sir?”
The Neochimp senator grimaced. “Something Admiral Irons once said. Scientists and engineers are so worked up with how to solve a problem or prove a hypothesis that they get excited. They get so wrapped up they forget the big picture. He quoted me a simple thing,” he pursed his lips as he tried to remember it. Finally, he nodded. “A scientist sometimes gets so wrapped up in if they could do something they forget to ask if they should.”
The aide and professor blinked in confusion. “Oh.” The professor looked nonplussed about the analogy.
“He set an example, nanotech in the conversation we had. Knowing what we know now, would we invent it now?” the Neochimp asked, eyeing the duo.
“But our ancestors didn't know,” Professor Gwildor said firmly. “How could they?” he asked peevishly. He didn't mention that he was old, a sleeper who had been forced to bum around the quadrant as an inventor and engineer for decades until the ship he'd been on had arrived in Antigua. He'd jumped ship happily and settled into Eternia University.
As an alumni of the long-lost Grimhammer University, he was the closest thing to an expert on just about everything physics related. He loved that the students looked at him with hero worship.
“But they speculated for years, both the ups and downs about the tech. Some wild theories and ideas came about. They had science fiction; they had all sorts of pointers that it could be a problem. And people like me, those in government, tried to put the brakes on it when they realized the threats involved in uncontrolled usage. On Earth they called for a complete ban, which was why research and application moved to space. It slowed progress but didn't halt it. And look where it got Earth during the First A.I. War,” Senator Grassley replied. His colleagues on the committee looked nonplussed. Senator Falconi sat back as a shiver of revulsion from the audience hit.
“But nanotech i
s a tool. It isn't inherently evil, sir. It depends on the user. You can use it for regeneration or industry as well as for war,” the professor insisted almost desperately.
“True. And I'm aware that every tech has its faults and can be used for evil in the wrong hands. But, again, would we?”
“I doubt it.”
“Right. The same for the Stargate program. Which, I happen to know our dear acting president was involved with,” the senator said. That came as a form of opposition research, a way to dig up dirt on opponents to use it or at least be aware of their faults. Not that he'd use it, it was a part of the open record and Irons wasn't trying to hide it.
“Yes, sir,” Professor Gwildor said with a nod and shiver. “If we hadn't opened that can of worms, the galaxy would be a different place.”
“Oh, it wasn't the wormhole's fault. Or I should say, the admiral's fault. The old Federation sent an exploration fleet to the galaxy long before the Stargate program went into production and use,” Senator Asif Beral interjected before one of the other senators could start a diatribe against Irons.
The professor nodded, looking almost desperate to get back on track. “Yes, sir. But they opened a portal to hell when they sent the plans through the ansible to the explorers to build their own. And they used nanotech to build the thing on either end. I think if they'd taken the time to do it …”
“Yes, but if they hadn't had it, they would have wakened the Xenos anyway,” the senator stated. The professor blinked and then nodded at that simple fact. “And with them coming the old-fashioned way, they would have shown up a century or so and we would have been in the same boat as we're in now. Or worse, we would have not known they were coming at all, and our ancestors could have been obliterated.”
Professor Gwildor grimaced but then nodded in bleak admission of that fact.