by Chris Hechtl
“We have to win the war. See what you can do. I'd like to see the latest batch of subjects though.”
“This way,” he said, indicating they should move on. “Mara's are the most acceptable to the rank and file obviously. Her latest generation has been tweaked. We've returned the skin color to a normal pigment range …”
Chapter 27
Dead Drop
The yacht turned courier arrived at the Garth jump point and broadcast her IFF as she scanned the star system. When she noted the orbital warehouses, she sent a signal to one of them. After a few moments, she was directed to lay a whisker laser on a location near the gas giant where Executioner was last reported to be.
~~~^~~~
It took less than an hour for the information to be downloaded to the flagship and then decoded. More time was taken since it was early morning ship time and most of the flag staff had slept in after a late night with an exercise that had run longer than expected.
When the news did hit, it hit like a bomb during the staff meeting. Most of the staff sat around the table looking stunned.
“She mentions a destroyer. We never saw it, did we?” Admiral De Gaulte asked quietly once Berney had laid out the report.
“No, sir,” Berney said with a definitive shake of his head. “The Henry Morgan.”
Jeremy sucked in a protesting breath. That ship was one of the famous ships in the Gather Fleet. Berney shot him a look but then continued. “She should have gotten here by now. According to her file she is a Gather Fleet ship that had been assigned to Sigma sector up until recently. She underwent a recent refit in Garth. Something might have gone wrong though.”
“So, it is lost or overdue. We'll have to declare her overdue and presumed lost with all hands. Pity,” the admiral rumbled.
“If she had a hyperdrive issue, she could have dropped to a low octave and is coming along slowly, sir,” Jeremy stated with a frown. He'd run the numbers, and he didn't like them anymore than anyone else. But there was always a chance that the ship would turn up.
A day late obviously.
“Then we'll update the listing when or if she arrives. In the meantime, we've got another problem to solve,” the admiral growled. “The horrible luck to go through this like that. Someone upstairs really hates us to lose a ship like that at a critical time.”
“Murphy does love to put in his appearance from time to time, sir. And his gremlins are the bane of every engineer's existence. Or so I've been told,” Berney said with a shake of his head. “About the orders … I know they aren't technically legal …”
“They are far from it. She's not in our chain of command. She's a duchess, yes, but her husband is the prime minister, not her,” Myron stated.
“But she is a powerful woman not to be trifled with,” Sedrick warned.
“I don't know what she expects us to do,” Myron stated. “Catch-22, we're screwed either way we jump.”
“It is quite the conundrum. When you factor in the possibility that they might have antimatter too, it's not a pleasant one,” the admiral stated.
Myron grimaced. “Frack.”
“So, what do we do, sir?” Sedrick asked.
“That is the hundred million credit question, isn't it? If we let them in, we are cut off. If we fall back, we lose this system. If we divide our forces, we're screwed on both fronts,” the admiral stated, looking at the map.
He was obviously going to have to shift his forces about. One of the first things on the agenda was to send a scout force to Garth to find out if it had been taken or not. He frowned. He was not happy about dividing forces. He also hated the idea of abandoning Dead Drop to White. They'd invested so much in keeping it.
But, if he didn't go, he'd get cut off and die on the vine.
“Well, so much for going on the offense!” Myron said in disgust. “All that time planning up in smoke.” He shook his head.
“It could still happen,” Jeremy said loyally. “There might be something coming from the Empire, more of Home Fleet. They could be there in Garth for all we know.”
Myron looked at him in disbelief. “You expect us to sit here and wait to find out? With the enemy operating in our rear? Able to hit Garth and cut us off?” He shook his head. “Just what have you been putting in that pipe and smoking and where can I get some?”
Jeremy winced but Berney and the admiral snorted.
“All right, okay, so I screwed up. You've got me. So, what do we do about it?” Jeremy demanded. “Are we going to walk away from Dead Drop like we did Nuevo Madrid and SNHH?”
“Damned if I know,” Myron said with a shake of his head. “If we pull back, we abandon Dead Drop and give the enemy the initiative to move in. But we'd secure Garth and our supply line. We can also of course always come back and take it back,” he said, looking at Cyrano. All eyes eventually fell on the admiral.
“Sir?” Berney asked when the admiral just sat there.
“I'm not quite willing to do that just yet,” the admiral finally rumbled as Berney inhaled to prompt him again.
Jeremy wasn't the only one to look relieved. Sedrick looked troubled however.
“But, if we send a token force and it gets beat, we are basically being defeated in detail. My question is, did anyone tell Horath? Is the Empire going to send help? She said she sent a destroyer there too, but did it get there? Is it in transit too?”
“They will have to send a relief force!” Jeremy insisted. “Right?” has asked, looking for confirmation from Berney and the admiral.
“Yeah, the question is, when and with what? It took a lot of arm twisting for the emperor to let us go, remember? Even more for Admiral Mueller and Wong to come to our rescue with a quarter of the deployable assets of Home Fleet. Those that are left that is,” he added at a mutter.
Admiral De Gaulte winced. He had no idea why he and the other flag officers were still alive. That they hadn't been recalled to Horath to face the emperor's wrath was something of a mixed blessing.
“I've got the other flag officers coming over to powwow in the evening. In the meantime, I need you to put all plans on hold and dig into getting a full detailed picture of what we got down to the last counter missile. For the moment, figure leaving behind everything smaller than a destroyer here and playing shell game,” the admiral stated. “I'll get back to you on what when I'm done with them,” he said.
~~~^~~~
Cyrano wasn't surprised to see his chief of staff waiting to beard his layer the moment he finished with the hastily-arranged flag officer conference. He wasn't in the mood however. “Sir …,” Berney started in almost desperately.
“I know!” Cyrano barked, pacing. Berney reared back in surprise and then just stood there. “Sorry,” he finally said when he looked at the commander. “What is it?”
“We're stuck. On the horns of a dilemma, but every moment we wait, things can get worse.”
“Don't you think I don't know that?” Cyrano grumbled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is exactly where I don't want to be.”
“Cut off,” Berney said, sounding concerned almost frightened.
“Yeah.”
“The enemy in front of me, the enemy behind me. And here I am, stuck in the middle with you,” Cyrano said with a tired smile. “Old saying. Cliché but fitting.”
Berney nodded. “I know, sir. We can't divide the fleet. If the enemy knows we leave, they could move in and then we'd have to pay to retake this real estate. We don't know how Horath is going to react however.”
“So, you are saying the prudent thing is to ride to the duchess's rescue? Leave Dead Drop to hang out to dry?”
“Retreat is smart normally, but the force in Garth is a carrier force, sir. We don't have the firepower to handle it. If, as you said they have antimatter weapons …”
“I know.” Cyrano sat down heavily. “I'm damned if I do either way.”
“Not yet. But soon.”
“Yeah. Soon.”
“What else?�
�
“I've got the latest reports ready, sir. I've assembled a profile on every ship, their logistics, and their command team,” Berney said as he held out a chip. When the admiral didn't move to take it, he softly set it down on the desk blotter.
“Good. Good to know,” Cyrano murmured. “Dismissed.”
Berney turned but hesitated at the door. He wanted to say something reassuring, say something like it'd be all right, they'd been in tighter fixes, but he didn't have the heart. Besides, he needed the reassurance too. If Cyrano didn't believe it, he didn't want to know.
~~~^~~~
He had to discuss the news with the other flag officers. Their reactions were telling. Both wanted to fight; that much was obvious. But they were both as torn as he was on which direction to go.
“According to her report, she, or I should say Captain Ozman, sent a tin can to us and home, plus another to picket Bf994,” Cyrano finished.
“So, their approach is covered? They'll get advanced warning?”
“You'd think that. Remember though, the enemy is faster in subspace and hyperspace,” Admiral De Gaulte warned.
“Someone should have done that long ago,” Scott growled. “It was stupid and neglectful to wait this long.”
“They didn't have the platforms then. There also wasn't a need up until now. Obviously, something should have been rectified sooner. The Admiralty saw the hole and decided to scout forward with Trembling Timmy and the other ship,” Admiral De Gaulte stated. He'd read about the scouting mission when he'd noted the notation about the courier that had spotted the fleet.
“Do you think they'll go for Garth? I'm thinking that going to Finagle is too much to hope for,” Admiral Wong stated.
“Agreed. Hitting Garth while we're sitting here in Dead Drop would cut us off and put us between two fleets. I think that was their plan all along, but they got the timing wrong.”
“One thing in our favor. Though their ansible …,” Scott shook his head.
“Is obviously not perfect,” Admiral De Gaulte stated flatly.
“So, we need to discuss this,” Scott insisted, momentarily taking the floor. “We are stuck. If we divide our forces, we invite defeat in detail. But we can't ignore the threat. I think we need to take our chances and divide the fleet. The cruisers you sent to Dd01ns should give us advance warning of where the enemy is and how offensive minded they are.”
“Which they most likely won't be until they've been resupplied and reinforced,” Admiral De Gaulte mused. “Still …,” He rubbed his chin, briefly pretending to consider the problem as he played for time.
“I don't like it anymore than you do, but we don't have a choice. But, we can't do the mission without carriers,” he looked at Admiral Wong.
Admiral Wong didn't look so sure either. “One carrier isn't going to cut it,” he stated flatly, shaking his head emphatically.
“You are saying we'd have to send all of them thus leaving Dead Drop unguarded against a fighter or bomber threat,” Cyrano clarified.
“Which sucks for them. But there are the fighters left in the star system to consider. You can stage them through the remaining ships.”
“Not enough,” the admiral growled. “We're going to need the numbers with the fleet. Remember, this is an unbloodied fleet. One with quite possibly a stock of antimatter munitions.”
The others stilled for a long moment. Cyrano eventually let out a heavy breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He felt a quiver, a tightness in his chest but ignored it. “I think you are right. Most likely this fleet was assembled in Pyrax,” he said, tracing the jump lines. “It would have to be.”
“It makes sense,” Admiral Wong said grudgingly. “And that is where they have the stockpile of antimatter, right? So, we could be screwed if we let their bombers into striking range,” he stated.
“So, we're going?”
“Yes. We're all going,” Admiral De Gaulte stated. The others blinked at him. He smiled almost whimsically. “No way am I going to get cut off. If we can leave Dead Drop on its own and it works out, good. If not, at least we're not cut off.”
“Understood. When do we leave?”
“As soon as I break the news and work on some fallback plans,” the admiral stated.
~~~^~~~
Captain Abernly received the news the first thing in the morning. He had to read it twice before adrenaline took over for the weak caffeine in his system. He set the tablet down stunned and in a near panic.
He stared out the window and tried to think of his backup plans. No matter what he thought of though, nothing fit. He knew his options for escape were sharply limited. Most likely if De Gaulte did go after them, he'd be stuck behind with whatever was left as a rear guard.
All he could do was to pray nothing happened while De Gaulte was away. He snorted to himself. Here he had resented De Gaulte coming in and taking over, now he was dreading the man leaving!
If something did happen, he'd have a slim chance to escape. But to do that he'd have to be in space and near the Garth jump point. The enemy had better speed. If he tried to cut and run from the inner star system, they'd run him down.
He shivered. Maybe a concentration camp wouldn't be so bad? He shook his head angrily. It wasn't going to come to that. No. He just had to hold on. Keep his head down, do his job, and hope for the best.
No, he thought, stopping himself. That wasn't going to work! Damn it, he needed to plan. And he needed to find a way to control things. Stage fighters that were left behind through the remaining platforms … he shook his head and then picked up his tablet once more. He looked over to his coffee cup, but his stomach was in knots. Instead of taking a sip, he focused on pulling up his contingency files and then adapting what he could to what was currently available while also projecting what most likely would be left behind.
~~~^~~~
As Cyrano settled into some semblance of comfort with his chosen plan, he tried to come to grips with what it meant. It meant temporarily abandoning Dead Drop; that was for sure. If Second Fleet delayed long enough, they might get away with uncovering it. If not, well, they'd have to fight to take it back.
But, Garth. And fighting in Garth might not be tenable either. Based on the limited information they had, the other fleet was a carrier force. And he'd already noted that they had most likely come from Pyrax, which meant more antimatter. He wasn't certain he could face that.
The only way he could engage was if he had not only a superior number of fighters but also was able to keep his battle line out of the clutches of the enemy bombers. He wasn't certain how Wong could pull that off though; in order to win, they'd have to risk one way or another.
He looked out to one of the War Hammer class dreadnoughts nearby. The window vision was enhanced with the zoom of course just the way he liked it. It let him see the details on the ship; her distinctive hammerhead bow glistened in the sun as she moved out. They had evolved from a Hammerhead class dreadnought design that the designers had favored over the centuries prior to the Xeno war. Mjolnir had been one of the most famous of those ships. Some of the other ship names in the class had been named after famous hammers or after Egyptian weapons.
He had hoped that they'd grow out of the old Federation's shadow eventually. That the empire would start their own traditions. A small secret part of him had hoped that someday a ship would be named after him for all he had contributed to the empire.
No, that was very much in doubt.
~~~^~~~
Captain Abernly watched the fleet departing and wanted to curse. No, he wanted to weep, to scream, to throw a fit. But it would all be in vain, so instead, he stood there silently watching the plot as the fleet headed to the jump point.
He was on his own. They were on their own. In his haste to leave to ride to Garth's rescue, the admiral had not mentioned or had forgotten about the force he'd sent out to scout the enemy in DD01ns or wherever they had anchored.
Well, if they came back, he intended to stop them
and keep them for his own self-protection. The captain of most of the ships would outrank him, but he'd deal with that when he had to.
That was the only silver lining in the entire sorted affair he thought as he turned and got back to work. Somehow his heart really wasn't in it however.
~~~^~~~
Garth
The Garth defenders were hopeful when a supply convoy and light reinforcements arrived from Horath. Admiral Einezberg ordered the warships to remain and for the supply ships to be unloaded and returned post haste to the empire.
Within a day of their arrival, a pair of freighters returned from Dead Drop. When they reported in, there was initially some relief. But that was short lived.
“About time!” the admiral said, cutting off Captain Ozman's report.
“But, ma'am, there is no mention of Henry Morgan.”
“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Agnes shook her head. “Damn it!” the rear admiral snarled. “I presume the courier that was sent will get there soon?”
“Hopefully, it has gotten there by now. We'll get word back in four to six weeks depending on how fast he sends her back.”
“If he sends her at all. He's cutting it too close,” the admiral muttered.
“Ma'am?”
“I've got that puckered feeling. I don't like the sensation. I don't like it at all. It scares me that I can't do a damn thing about it either.”
“You and me both, ma'am,” Agnes responded softly.
~~~^~~~
“Here we go again,” Captain Danica Fen said, stroking the arm rests on the hot seat as she tried to settle herself. Her prowler had tried for a soft downward translation, but of course, no exit was ever without incident.
“Translation clear. No friendly IFF detected, ma'am.”
“Go to EMCOM and stealth,” the captain ordered.
As they settled into silent running, they got a better picture of the star system. With it came the realization of a complete lack of friendly units. “It looks like we beat them, ma'am,” Darion the navigator and helmsman stated.