by Chris Hechtl
“We're up a creek, Geo,” the captain said softly as he checked the plot. The XO caught the look and turned as well to the plot. “CIC, time for the fighters to get here?”
“Bridge, CIC. Forty-seven minutes,” the tech replied in a taught voice.
“Engineering, you hear that? It's a race,” the captain said as he unzipped the front of his coverall and started to squirm out of it in full view of the bridge watch. Other personnel were showing up with suits.
“I'm at sixty-four minutes, Skipper. I can't do any better. I wish I could; this damn system sucks,” the engineer said, and then fell into cursing in various languages.
:::{)(}:::
“Based on the rate of their energy buildup, they will run short well before the fighters get into range,” CIC reported to Captain Purple Thorn.
“Good.”
“They have a good chance of taking out the cruiser. We're not so sure about the courier, ma'am. She's much further out,” Ensign Truepath warned.
“Tell them to do their best. The primary target is the cruiser. But I want them both.”
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
:::{)(}:::
Captain Nijing snarled as the fighters came into extreme range. Despite everything the engineers could do, they couldn't shave the time interval. If he'd only had another twenty minutes, his ship would have been distorting space around it and safe enough. As it was, his shields were up but his ship was facing in the wrong direction. The little ships were coming up his on his seven o'clock low on the Z axis. Ordinarily such small ships wouldn't be a threat to a cruiser he thought. That thought ended abruptly as CIC yelped over the open channel. “Vampire! I say again, Vampire, vampire! We have multiple shots incoming! It looks like eight torpedoes on a bearing of 225 degrees by negative 7.4 degrees one million kilometers out and closing. Time to impact four minutes from—mark! They look like torpedoes fired from extreme range!” the rating said.
“Bring our countermeasures and point defense up,” the captain ordered as he realized what he had to do. The only way out was through; he had to survive the fighters and wait until they cleared his ship before he could try to get clear and into hyperspace.
“That will slow or halt the hyper capacitor recharge, Skipper,” Geo warned.
“We can't help it,” the captain replied. “Order the courier to run for it. Comm, keep that line open to them. Guns, it's up to you.”
“Should we launch our own fighters? We've got four,” Geo asked.
“No time. Besides, they'd just get in the way,” the captain said in an indifferent aside as he leaned forward to study the contacts. If he was right, the damn things were standard Federation issue. That meant they weren't prone to breakdowns like the piece of shit hardware in his engineering spaces.
“Time to impact, three minutes thirty seconds. Bringing up ECM now,” the TAO said. “Defcon one is in effect. Guns on auto fire. Fire as you bear.” He turned to the captain. “Skipper, we need to bring her on a broadside to maximize our guns.”
“Do it,” the captain growled.
He wasn't at all certain it would be enough.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Reynolds swore as Silver Tongue Devil took out two of the incoming torpedoes before the remaining six struck. They were true torpedoes; each was armed with a grav lance warhead that sliced through the ship's shields. One, then two, detonated in quick succession, then the last four in a blinding rapid pulse right against the ship's hull. Their armor-penetrating warheads ripped and gouged into the ship's armor plate.
A couple of torpedoes on a glancing hit might have been survivable, but not six. Something broke within the ship, and she erupted in a fireball of dust and expanding debris.
“Frack,” the captain snarled.
“Torpedoes inbound!” a tech yelped. “Three minutes!”
“We can't survive that!” the engineering tech said. “Tell them we surrender!” she yelped. The captain rose from his seat and cuffed her aside, then stared at the plot. It would be close, but they could make it. “Engineering, all power to the hyperdrive. Throw everything we've got at it for there isn't any tomorrow if we don't. That includes power to life support.”
He barely saw the cowering engineering tech look up to him as she recovered. “Take your station,” the captain snarled as he returned to his own. “Everyone, go on canned life support. If you can find a way to squeeze more power out of this piece of shit, do so. Otherwise, see you in hell,” he growled.
:::{)(}:::
“Defiant has reported a successful kill on the cruiser. But the courier got away. She took at least one glancing hit before her field came up and cut the rest of the munitions short.”
“I hate half measure,” the admiral grumbled. “And I hate not knowing if we did the job right or not.”
“Should we send a ship to pursue?” Commander T'r'll asked carefully.
“No. Our orders are to remain here. But put the request in through the ansible anyway. I hate the idea of being micromanaged from afar. This isn't how to run a war,” the Veraxin flag officer complained.
“Yes, ma'am. I doubt we'll get a response. Not with the admiral off …wherever,” the commander replied.
“Tell me about it. And I plan to give him an earful the first chance I get,” she complained.
Chapter 40
Antigua
With most of the coverage of Irons getting stale, April looked into other news to fill in some of the void. Oh, she had fed the masses the bit about Federation One being missing, but she had left it at that and let the speculation take its course.
Now she was on to exposes about law enforcement and corruption on various worlds of the Federation. She was going around the loop, drawing news from the various star systems.
Her current project was Sheriff Tom Smith of New Texas, the so called two-fisted lawman of the planet. The local news coverage of him was highly popular; he had been building into something of a local legend. She had been initially amused by the coverage. She didn't see the use of it initially, but some admired the man's bravery. She thought it was staged or blown out of proportion and took a cautious approach to the coverage in her own news cycle. She was surprised to get an unexpected backlash from some of her viewers.
“What is their problem?” she demanded when Irma brought her a chip with thousands of complaints on it.
“You don't seem to get it, April; you don't attack the law, especially on places like New Texas. They are highly respected. They are doing a hard, dangerous job,” Irma stated, adjusting her glasses.
April frowned thoughtfully as she stared at her colleague. “Okay, but I'm just saying there is no video of the incidents. Just second- and third-hand reporting from supposed eye witnesses. None of the witnesses were named. I'm being cautious because I don't want anything to come back and bite me.”
“Commendable. But, don't attack a lawman's word without proof.”
“Okay, okay,” April muttered.
“Admiral Sienkov has returned to the capital. He's going to be back to the capital station in another two days. And there is something floating on the scuttlebutt grapevine about an announcement about Admiral Irons,” Irma warned.
April's green eyes flared briefly. She hadn't heard a peep from John the entire time he'd been gone. She hated that. She was furious with the man and planned to let him have it when they were face-to-face again. “Good or bad?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
“Okay, call Jed; he's working the political circuit. We know the secretary is currently in charge. See if her staff knows anything. They might have helped with a speech. I'll work my contacts,” she said, opening up her address book and starting to scroll through it.
Irma nodded and decided the lawman story was dead for the moment. That was good.
:::{)(}:::
Fleet Admiral Yorgi Sienkov stepped off the shuttle and smiled to a familiar face waiting for him in the boat bay. “Now you come to see people arriving?” he as
ked.
“I do when I've got the time and it's an old friend,” Moira said, giving him a brief hug. “How are you?”
“Bored. That was a wasted trip,” Yorgi replied with a shake of his head. “I shouldn't have dragged my feet. I'm regretting that.”
“You'll regret a lot more if Admiral Irons doesn't pull Bek out of the mess it is in,” she said, tucking her arm into his. Her security fell in around her as an escort as they made their way through the station.
“I know, that's part of what I'm regretting. I see now Admiral Irons had no clue about the patronage system going on there. I thought everything was new and people were naive here.”
“And now?”
“Now I'm seeing it, but it's not nearly as bad. He said he protects his friends. I get that. But he's also trying to set up a better system, the system that we're supposed to have.”
“And?” she asked.
“And I hope it works. I'm a bit of a pessimist though, I know everyone has an inherit interest in looking after number one first,” he said. “But, we'll see I guess,” he said, shrugging slightly.
“True.”
“So, where are we going?” he asked. “I haven't had time to get a schedule together.”
“We're going to a press conference.”
“Oh?”
“Admiral Irons has decided to let the cat out of the bag with the public now that word can't spread to Bek ahead of him somehow.”
“Oh,” Yorgi replied in a slightly different tone of voice. “I guess I better have my earplugs ready,” he drawled.
She smiled in sympathy.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Irons allowed his itinerary to be released when he left B-102c. Liobat let her staff leak an announcement was coming about the admiral. The media went into full feeding frenzy as they tried to work their contacts to get the scoop. Only the Neocat knew it. She had the speech and recording from Admiral Irons.
She watched the frenzy hit a feverish pitch as speculation mounted. When they had nothing to go on, they went to their talking heads and came up with all sorts of outlandish theories to fill the time in.
When she held the press conference, she did so with Moira Sema and Fleet Admiral Yorgi Sienkov nearby. “I have a message from the president,” she said simply as she turned to the side and then hit play through her implants. The holo projector came to life beside her with a full-sized image of Admiral Irons.
“I'd like to make this statement from the podium, but the Admiral Butley is a bit cramped at the moment,” he said. “Yes, I am no longer in the capital. For those of you who noticed Federation One was missing, kudos to you. I recorded this from the B-102c star system. I am on my way to Bek,” he said simply.
The press pool instantly began to rustle as reporters reacted in surprise.
“We have a problem as some of you know. Vice Admiral Childress refused to follow my orders and has thrown the state of the Bek Republic into a civil war.”
The room stilled at that announcement.
“As some of you know, I dispatched Rear Admiral Horatio Logan with orders to relieve the vice admiral of command a little less than five months ago. I frocked Admiral Sienkov to fleet admiral with the intended purpose of cleaning the chain of command up once he got there. That however, didn't work out as planned,” he said sternly.
“We received word when Ilmarinen returned to the Sargasso star system and attempted to destroy the ansible and the station there that there was a revolt of sorts in progress in Bek. I was forced to take drastic measures to deal with the situation.”
Liobat noted everyone was hanging on the president's word.
“This is no reflection on the civilian Bekians,” the admiral's message stated, indicating Moira and Yorgi nearby. “I have full confidence in them as well as many of the naval transplants who have come forward from Bek. This is purely an internal naval affair. Admiral Childless is refusing orders from anyone who doesn't outrank him. I do. I determined I am the only one who could do anything about the problem. Therefore, I went,” he said with a simple shrug.
“For your information, Liobat will be handing out information packets about the trip. I can tell you it was mostly uneventful. We arrived in B101a1 in forty-three days out from Antigua. Not bad. Not a record, but not bad,” his image said, smiling thinly. “There is a good team on Federation One. I'm curious to see if they can beat their record on the return trip.”
“Along the way to where we are, we skipped. We will do so again running the jump chain to Bek now that we are clear of the rapids. I took every opportunity to download information packets from the ansible to keep abreast of what was going on and to upload my orders. The day-to-day operations of the government has been handled quite efficiently by Secretary Sema, acting as president-pro-temp until my return. I thank her for her service. She has done an exemplary job,” he said with a slight bow to her. She nodded back.
“Wish us luck. I have a feeling we'll need it. Long live the Federation.” His image said as he came to attention and cut the signal.
Liobat returned to the podium and flicked her ears as she gripped the top gently. “I'm going to guess there are going to be a lot of questions,” she said. That sparked a tumult of shouted questions, so loud her ears went flat in self-defense.
“Yeah,” she drawled, glancing to the secretary and admiral nearby. “Thought so,” she said with a sigh of resignation.
:::{)(}:::
“Funny meeting ya'll here on such a nice day,” a familiar heavyset human male said with a New Texas drawl as he took a seat on the veranda.
“Considering we agreed to meet, I don't see anything funny in it,” a familiar voice snipped at him as he reached up and adjusted his trademark white cowboy hat before the winds took it.
“It's an expression. Small talk,” the Texan said. “People these days,” he said as he looked over to the third member of their party. Senator Avery Falconi looked impressive in his expensively tailored business suit.
“Do any of you wish to order?” the waitress asked as she came over to them.
“Texas ice tea, lil lady,” Senator Russell drawled.
“Scotch neat,” Avery ordered, holding a finger up.
“I'll have a plain ice tea,” Cheyenne said. Once the waitress was clear, Avery pulled an anti-listening device out of his pocket and put it down on the table in front of them.
“Okay, we can speak freely, at least until she returns. Let's get on with it,” he said. “I've got another committee meeting after lunch.”
“Me too,” Cheyenne grumbled. “Irons doesn't do much by halves, does he?” she grumbled.
“Well! I'd say this is a revolting development, but all I can see is how it can benefit us or backfire,” Senator Russell drawled as he took out a cigar and clipped the tip off.
“You aren't going to smoke that now, are you?” his fellow senator asked with a glower at him.
He looked at the cigar between his fingers and then to Cheyenne. “Ayup, I was plannin' on it,” he drawled as he fished out an ancient Zippo lighter.
She sighed heavily as he lit the thing up, and then watched the smoke drift in the wind. She adjusted her position to be upwind of him.
Avery for his part ignored the byplay. He was used to it. They might be competitors on various levels but the trio worked surprisingly well together. Most of the other Senators were still feeling out the system. None of them were at their level, which was why they had left them out. Besides, it was easy to hide a simple lunch with two coworkers, quite another to hide it with three or more.
“Okay, we knew about Bek. I'm going to be honest; we didn't care. It was a good thing; it took them out of play and tainted the secretary. Now this.”
“Do we even know if that was really him? The recording I mean? Anyone can fake a hologram these days.”
Senator Cheyenne Mayfair's face took on an artfully thoughtful expression. “That is a good question,” she drawled with a gleam.
“I'm not su
re if we should float it or not. Maybe indirectly, through a contact or a cutout,” Senator Falconi said cautiously. Cheyenne looked at him with an expression of disappointment. “I don't want it to backfire and label us as the enemy,” he explained patiently.
“Point, but someone is going to take notice and will realize we used a cutout or someone did.”
“True.”
“I heard a lot of people went to Moira and that A.I. captain about how this went down. I personally wasn't happy about getting the briefing in an email a minute before that damn press conference,” Cheyenne grumbled.
“Yeah, they said it was to keep the news from leaking,” Avery said, remembering the conversation. He had gotten through to the A.I. He'd made it clear he wasn't happy about being left out in the cold.
“It was simply to keep the news from leaking,” the A.I. had replied.
“I would never …,” he grimaced at his lack of control.
“No, but your staff might. If you wish, we can go over whose staff has leaked the most at another time.”
He shook his head as he brought himself back to the here and now. “The administration is going to have to make up for keeping us in the dark. And they are obviously losing trust points with the public. How to capitalize it is a question.”
“Undermining the secretary is obviously an interesting idea. Or, we could go one further and swamp her with bills. She can sign them or sit on them until they expire and become law.”
“That brings up a legal issue. Irons supposedly signed off on some of the bills we've brought to his desk since he left, right?”
“Yes,” Russell drawled slowly, tipping his hat back with a thumb, then catching it before the wind took it. He turned his head and adjusted his bolo tie as the waitress came over with a tray and their drinks.
She quietly set the coasters down and then the drinks and then departed for a moment.
Once she was gone, they each took an appreciative sip and then considered their options. “I don't know the legality of him signing stuff when he was gone. If we bring up the possibility that he was a fake, it calls that into question.”