by Chris Hechtl
“We need to keep the pressure on. As soon as we get that intel, we're going to plug the data into our plans and then scrap what needs scrapping and revise what can be revised. But we'll need more fire power soon.”
“So maybe we should move into DD01ns now, sir? Cut the time down for the prowler?” Garfield asked.
“No. Tempting, but no. We don't know what is there. Send the light cruisers in. Cut those orders that if they don't find anything one is to return here.”
“Aye aye, sir. Most likely that destroyer we scared off ended up there.”
“Good.”
“Can we …?” Garfield started to ask if he could cut orders to allow the cruisers to hunt the other ship down but the admiral's head shake cut his request off. “Darn.”
“It would be tempting to send the fighters in, sir,” Commodore Vargess murmured, speaking up for the first time. “Allow the two cruisers the option to launch their fighters from a distance. The fighters have stealth and can travel on ballistic like the fighters did in Antigua. If they play their cards right, they could tear the destroyer up. At the least, cripple her so she can't run.”
“And therefore, can't warn De Gaulte. I like it,” Commodore Harris said with a nod.
Amadeus hesitated and then shrugged. “We don't even know if she's even there at the moment. She could have turned tail and ran all the way home.”
“If we cut the cruisers loose now and have them step up their speed, they could outrace the tin can that way too. They could arrive and tear her apart before she can escape,” Ch'v'tt said helpfully.
“Also a good idea,” Commodore Harris said, eyes gleaming.
“Okay. Get me the two cruisers and find out if they need replenishment. If they can get moving in the next …,” he checked the clock and then ran a quick mental calculation, “ten hours I'll cut the optional orders both ways.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kyle said with a small smile and nod. His fingers began to dance as he began to run through the ships to find the right division to send in the time available. Each ship had a series of status bars he could see.
Chapter 33
Pyrax
Federation One arrived in the outskirts of the Pyrax star system without incident four days and thirteen hours after leaving Agnosta. After the ship's IFF was approved by the picket, they began preparations to skip.
Admiral Irons gave them some extra time since he had some tasks to do in the star system. He opened the usual tachyon channel to Pyrax Command 1 as well as a second channel to the ansible. Splitting the ship's bandwidth cut down on what he could download, but that was fine.
He sent out a series of encrypted files to the engineers and high-ranking officers in the star system. Some of the files were firmware updates for their keys. Once those files were sent, he uploaded keys to the various military industrial complexes in the star system to produce parts that ordinarily couldn't be made. He wasn't surprised when Phil came on the channel when he finished.
“Damn you made good time!” Phil said over the channel.
Admiral Irons checked the ansible update. Throttling the bandwidth with his conversation had forced Barry to intervene and send only what was critical to him. That was fine; Protector was sorting it on his end. Even better. “Yeah. Antimatter can do that—that and skipping. We've gotten too used to the slower speeds,” Admiral Irons replied wryly.
“We don't want to be stuck with the downsides of antimatter again, Admiral,” Phil reminded him.
“True, too true. How are things going?”
“Well, everything hasn't fallen apart just yet. But, they are starting to ask where you are.”
“Lovely. Well, I knew I couldn't stay quiet forever. I've got a half hour before they finish prepping for the skip. I'm downloading what I can now. I'll do the same at each stop. Protector is sorting it now. What is going on with the fronts?”
“You ordered the Eastern Front to stop in B-87R. Needless to say that's not very popular in certain circles. They should be getting there shortly.”
He snorted. “Too bad.”
“I bet you wouldn't have done that with Amadeus,” Phil retorted.
“True. Then again, I know Amadeus. Speaking of the devil as it were, what's up with him? I've got four minutes left,” Admiral Irons said as the comm officer flashed four fingers at him and pointed to the navigator. He nodded.
“Got it. He chased their picket off. He sent a prowler into Dead Drop and Garth. He's going over what they found before he moves in. But you already know that. We haven't gotten a report from him in a couple weeks. It will be a couple weeks before the prowler returns to him, if at all, so he might be sitting on the courier until it arrives.”
“Good. I'm authorizing him to move on Dead Drop at his discretion. Get in before they reinforce,” Admiral Irons said as he sent orders out to the ansible as well.
“Understood,” Phil replied.
Admiral Irons grimaced as the tachyon signal began to break up and drop in signal strength. “I've got to go; they are prepping for the jump now. It's playing merry hell with the link.”
“Understood. The ships you ordered are en route. They should get to B101a1 by the time you get there. Safe skip.”
“Roger that.”
:::{)(}:::
“Is that a ship skipping?” Captain JG Wesley Potts, Venezuela's captain asked, noting the ship on the plot. “Someone's really hauling ass. Where's the fire?”
“You think? I wonder who's on board?” the XO asked, coming over to stand next to her boss.
“Classified,” Commodore X'll'RR stated from the comm link to the flag bridge. “Can we get on with this? I've got more reports to process before we get in to port.”
“Ah, yes, ma'am,” the skipper replied, turning away from the show.
:::{)(}:::
Once Admiral Irons was gone again, things settled back into the normal routine.
Admiral Subert couldn't help but wonder about the timing however. Within hours of Federation One's final departure, he got a list of promotions in. He had known the captain's board was sitting, but he hadn't been a part of it. To say he was gratified to see Saul's name on it was one thing. The man deserved it. He was not thrilled about losing Saul and having to break in a new replacement however. Fortunately, they had some time before the promotion became official and more time before his replacement arrived. Saul would need to train the replacement as well.
His good mood was tempered when he saw another name. His mood soured instantly.
Renee Mayweather. Promoted back to captain senior grade.
“Is he serious?” he demanded.
“Sir?” Barry asked as he opened a channel to the admiral's office. “Did you request me?”
“No, but you'll do. What's this about the promotions?”
“I'm sure you aren't thrilled about losing Commander Garretaj's services …”
“Not that! This! Mayweather!”
“She's good, sir. We need her grit and experience, Admiral. With all due respect, stop holding a grudge for something that doesn't involve you. You and I both know she got caught up in the works.”
The admiral grunted. He waved a hand as if to let it go or at least let it slide for the moment.
“I have the final OER reports for Third Fleet. Commodore X'll'RR is on her way to your office for her scheduled appointment to discuss them. Do you want to go over them, sir?”
“Not at the moment,” the admiral said, still in a foul mood. “Anything jump out at you?” he asked, finally relenting a little.
“Only a couple of the integrated personnel from Bek are on the list if that is one of your concerns. Not many problems reported. There are four commanders on the recommended list for promotion.”
“I'll read them later.”
“Very well, sir. Sir, the Venezuela has docked. The commodore will be en route to you shortly.”
“Thank you for keeping me posted. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
&nbs
p; “Then dismissed,” the admiral said firmly as he pulled up the OERs and started to skim them.
:::{)(}:::
Once Venezuela was settled into port for resupply, the commodore hopped a shuttle over to Command 1. She wasn't happy about losing two of her battle cruisers to Admiral Irons. There was no telling if she'd get them back or replacements from Antigua since Pyrax wasn't building them anymore. She made a note to ask about that when she got to her destination.
She knew that the OERs were due in. A part of the process involved a face-to-face with the star system commander; it allowed them to air out any issues and to go over some of the reports. Consequently, she stopped by Admiral Subert's office to discuss them with him as well as ask about the battle cruisers.
She didn't get anywhere with the battle cruisers as expected. She moved on to safer matters for the moment. It didn't take long to process the OERs. The admiral signed off on all but the promotion requests above commander rank. He put those off for the time being pending further review.
She knew that he was a stickler for tradition, but tradition was bending over backward given the need for experienced officers in every slot. They had to grow. He just didn't see it that way. She was well aware that he had backed her own promotions right up until the last cycle.
She beat around the bush when they were finished processing the Officer Evaluation Reports until she finally broke down and asked about her own future. “Sir, I've seen the recent flag promotions. Can I ask why I'm not on them?”
The admiral's eyes narrowed as his entire body straightened in indignation. “You know damn well why. You screwed up.”
“With all due respect, sir …”
“Can that crap,” Admiral Subert's eyes glittered. “You know better than to refuse a command.”
“I had good reason.”
“Why, because she hurt your feelings?” he drawled mockingly.
“Sir, I've been an officer longer than she was alive, yet she came in and just took over. She had no orders, no authorization, and no one did a thing. Then she rips apart everything I did, with some pithy commentary about how I did it without asking why. She was brutal in meetings, and I decided I wasn't going to take it anymore. It left me a choice of resigning or requesting a transfer.”
“I see.”
“Sir, I've been in combat. I've held seven starship commands before I attained the rank of full Commander. I took two of those ships into combat, one against the Xenos. My ship was battered, but we won that engagement. She never saw a shot fired in anger. None of the Bekians did.”
“I'd ordinarily say you are preaching to the choir, but she is a ranking officer. You needed to find a way to make it work, Commodore.”
“I tried, sir.”
“Then quit whining, accept your lumps, and buckle down and attend to your duties. Be grateful Admiral Irons didn't send you somewhere you would have really hated.” He left unsaid that he would have.
The Veraxin signaled first-degree resignation. “I suppose there is that, sir.”
“Yes, there is. So, count your blessings. You're going to miss a few promotional cycles. You aren't going to get the choice assignments you think you deserve. Deal with it. That is your penance, however much you think it is undeserved. You have a duty to serve. You need to relearn that lesson.”
“Aye aye, sir. I guess I don't have much choice.”
“No, you don't. You aren't going to go all whiny and threaten to resign because I was mean to you, are you?”
The Veraxin skittered and signaled first-degree duty. “No, sir.”
“Good. I hate re-inflating your ego bubble after that little deflation, but we do need you. And seeing as how you are hanging in there, then maybe there is some grit in you after all. Dismissed.”
:::{)(}:::
“How did it go, sir?” Saul asked softly from the VID phone.
“How did …?” the admiral turned to his image and then snorted. Apparently, the Yeoman had put him through without his noticing. “Trust you to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It went okay. She's on the list for rear admiral; Admiral Irons wants to push her into my shoes as second-in-command of Third Fleet. I don't know. She would still be outranked by V'r'z'll so that's not going to work.”
“No, sir. I didn't know this was being considered after how she quit TF 3.2,” Saul said carefully.
Phil frowned and then shrugged. “It's just discussion now since Irons is out and about. But I can say we more or less expected her to pull out of there. We saw the writing on the wall with V'r'z'll. I wanted to relieve her but Admiral Irons said no. She is even more abrasive than me.”
“I know, sir. I count my blessings I stayed put.”
“Yeah, you do that,” the admiral replied dryly.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Perth grimaced when he noted that the two battle cruiser skippers had limited their speed to Gamma 8. They could have hit delta, but it would have been tricky for the other two ships to handle it without his crack helm team on board. With the three ships riding together, they had to coordinate their actions in hyperspace. It meant a crack sensor watch on each ship, not only watching for mass shadows, but also watching the movements of the other ships.
Just when he'd thought he'd been rid of the Rapids and on to other things in his new command, the orders from on high had come down. He wasn't certain what was going on, but he was fairly confident Bek was at the bottom of it all. Given he was riding in company with two battle cruisers, someone thought they'd make some sort of impression. He doubted it.
But, an order was an order. Hopefully, they'd find out more when they arrived in B101a1.
Chapter 34
Garth
Captain Agnes Ozman was gratified to see the Seventh BC squadron arrive in a flurry of energy. The Seventh broadcast their IFF along with the IFF of the two squadrons of destroyers and cruisers that were riding along as escorts.
Commodore Barbara Couglin transmitted her credentials to the ship and her respects to the duchess. Agnes shook her head. Nothing for her, but she'd expected such treatment. What did surprise her was the commodore had transmitted a copy of her orders to continue on to Dead Drop unless she had a major engineering casualty. She had not declared one and had already stated her intent to reinforce Dead Drop and Admiral De Gaulte as quickly as she could. She was appreciative of that. She was well aware that the admiral would be doubly so when the ships turned up.
She had learned all over again the contempt her people had in Battle Fleet for those in their sister organization. The Gather Fleet personnel were lewd, crude, and stupid. They were pirates, true pirates, murders and thieves, not professional sailors and soldiers. From what she'd heard, the stocky commodore was battle fleet, but she'd also heard dark rumors that the woman had attained her rank through her family and not through her own skills.
That didn't bode well for her in Dead Drop—not that it was a certain captain's problem. No, her problem was dealing with the increasing number of fights and arguments between personnel. Some of it was off duty, and when someone was drunk, she knew tempers were easily crossed.
She had enough problems organizing the Gather Fleet ships into proper squadrons and trying to drill them. She'd found that it was one thing for the captains and crews to perform in sims, quite another as a group. The old adage about herding cats came to mind. Oh, they all talked a good fight and they could work together in division strength against a single opponent, but they were hopelessly outclassed when it came to working together against an equal force. Morale had tanked when she'd tried putting them up against the best data they had about the enemy's abilities. They just couldn't hack it.
Her morale had taken a hit too. She should have known better though, she reminded herself darkly. They were after all, pirates. Scum.
Why did anyone expect the Gather Fleet personnel to shape up overnight even with the threat of invasion hanging over their heads? It just didn't make sense. Already one sailor h
ad been killed in a barroom brawl. There were four counts of rape, countless bar maids had been molested, and another drunken duo of officers had been caught attempting to duel yesterday. They were recovering in the drunk tank after being patched up for what the medics insisted were flesh wounds. Apparently, the both of them had been too drunk to shoot straight. Or, they had weaved into the enemy's fire.
She scowled. If she heard one more idiot call a woman wench, she'd find a nice way to deal with them. Turn them into a wench and then dress them up appropriately and then turn them over to their friends to play with.
That idea seemed to make her feel a little better. It all went out the window though when an alert sounded. She glanced up sharply and then over to the plot. There were no accidents. The seven ships was halfway across the solar system …
It dawned on her that it was an intruder alert. Some idiot had hit the general alarm. She saw an icon appear on the plot. The time stamp said the ship had arrived well outside the jump zone five and a half minutes prior but they hadn't gotten an IFF. Either something was wrong or …
Either way it was trouble. Trouble with a capital T given she had a flag officer in the star system watching over her.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Fen felt a bit anxious at first as her prowler came out of hyperspace. She noted the distant picket as well as more recon satellites. Fortunately, for her and her crew the satellites were covering the plane of the ecliptic.
“Securing from jump. Running a scan now. There is a lot going on here, Skipper,” the sensor tech said. “The yard is up; I can tell you that right off. And I'm counting dozens of ships. Most of them are most likely warships,” he warned.
“Very well. Anything close?”
“Nothing within an AU.”
“Good. Engineering, we need that cloak up.”
“Roger that. Shifting power reserves now. We will begin powering it up in a few moments, Skipper.”