by Chris Hechtl
“We've sent, what, a dozen ships to you?” Moira asked with a frown.
“Half that. But it is a problem,” Yorgi said. “When was the last courier to get through?”
“Two months ago,” Amadeus replied.
Moira sucked in a breath. Yorgi was right, something was afoot in B-97a behind Second Fleet.
“Your confirmation of sending ships and my not receiving them proves what I've been afraid of. We've got raiders in our rear,” Amadeus said. His voice was leached from emotion by the ansible system, but Moira's imagination could easily fill in the grim tone in the way the admiral said that simple flat statement.
“I've started the fact-finding situation by issuing orders for ships to go to B-97b to cut them off and a squadron to get into B-97a to chase them out. But they might go to you.”
“Understood. We'll reinforce the B-95a3 picket,” Yorgi stated.
“Please do.”
“How could he have missed that?” Moira asked.
“How could any of us? We saw what the enemy wanted us to see. In hindsight, it makes sense. It is a perfect way to use a minimum amount of resources to disrupt his offense and buy time. Insuring your line of supply, communications, your flank, and your rear is a bedrock item.”
“How much time have you lost?”
“I am not sure. I do know I'm delayed a lot because of it. And I already delayed because Admiral Irons left.”
“Oh.”
“Do what needs to be done, Admiral,” Moira said. “That from me as acting president,” she stated firmly.
“Understood.”
“I'll let you and Yorgi hash out the details. Have a good evening,” she said.
“You as well, Madam Secretary,” the admiral said politely just before she cut the channel.
:::{)(}:::
The following evening the collier that had escaped B-97a arrived in B-95a3 screaming for help.
“That tears it,” Yorgi growled as he presented the report to Moira. “He's in a pickle. The good news is they didn't send a lot behind him. From the sensor report, it looks like just a pair of warships. Cruisers based on the sensor readings the collier provided.”
“A pair of ships now. But didn't I read his contact report of additional shipping? I'm talking about in DD01ns. It is why Admiral White broke out his ansible, correct?” Moira asked.
“Yes,” Yorgi hissed through his teeth before he nodded. “Point.”
“Great.”
“He's going to chase them out. They'll have a choice of three directions to go in, to B-95a3 and try to go north to get to Sigma and then cut around and back to their own territory. Or, they could try to punch into Senka as a forlorn hope.”
“I doubt they are martyrs,” Moira replied.
“I don't know, so I can't discount the possibility. Senka has a strong picket, and its first three orbital fortresses are online. They also have an OWP around their jump points so they are relatively secure.”
“I want them stopped cold in B-95a3. How can you do that?”
“There are two CEVs in Protodon and a pair of cruiser and at least two destroyer squadrons I can slice off and send there. They were waiting until we had more to send to Second Fleet. We've turned around some of the ships here.”
“Are you sending the dreadnought back?”
“Yes. He'll need the firepower despite having Argus. I'll issue the orders for Protodon now. They'll have to set up near the jump point and then hit the enemy wherever they come out. The problem is they can't sit there indefinitely. Maintaining patrols eats up fuel and takes flight hours off the clocks of the birds,” Yorgi mused.
“Handle it,” Moira ordered. “Let me know when it is in the works. And let me know when you are going to send the reinforcements to him. If you have to, slice off ships that haven't seen combat here and switch them out. I remember Admiral Irons doing that before.”
“Yes, yes, he did. I thought Amadeus would want veteran units.”
“They have to be, what's the term, blooded? To set the precedent to become veterans, right?” Moira asked.
He grunted. “Agreed. Okay, I'll look into that too.”
She realized he had been more or less place-holding while Admiral Irons was away. Coasting. “Check with your staff on other holes. And let me know about the other sector missions too.”
He blinked at her and then nodded.
“But Second Fleet is the priority. Get it handled.”
“Understood.”
:::{)(}:::
Sprite looked at their new creation and checked her emotional module. She should feel something, but at the moment there were mixed signals coming from the module. Perhaps that was accurate she thought as she took a step back.
The A.I. team had just finished booting the first new smart A.I. designed to protect network systems. She had worked primarily with military A.I., exchanging code with them and ideas while also building in everything they had learned about the Wraith and how to combat them.
Fletcher had been right to insist on loyalty programming given the power of the A.I. Perhaps that was what was giving her misgivings about the project? She too had such things as did any A.I. who was in the military, but they had woven far stronger programming priorities into the A.I.'s kernel.
It would be nice to turn the net patrol system over to the A.I. once it awoke … if it chose to follow its chosen field. It still had rights. She had rights, she reminded herself. She. She had a gender but still no name selected.
That too might be giving her misgivings. Normally an A.I. chose its name within milliseconds of it coming online. Her newest “daughter” hadn't.
Widow? Something arachnid inspired given she would be managing millions of bots designed to scan for the virus's infected files? Or would she choose something else? Names like Argus had been taken as had Heimdall. Besides, both were male names.
Perhaps she would choose a knowledge deity? Or a war one? It was frustrating to not know. Many of the names had been chosen already over the centuries. A.I. preferred to choose names that had not been used. Some did choose another's name, but they added an alpha numeric, usually their date of birth after the name.
She checked the A.I.'s status and then reluctantly turned to her other duties.
:::{)(}:::
Vestri noted the fresh orders and shook his head. “About frackin' time,” he muttered. Apparently, sanity had finally gotten through to some of the brass, or they'd decided to get off their hands and do something. Quirinus had completed her working-up exercises over a week ago and was more or less puttering around waiting for something to do. He knew the skipper had asked what they were going to do. He'd been trying to arrange some exercise time with Sun Tzu, but the other ship had issues with her drive and had returned to the docks for another refit.
It looked like the brass had woken up to the need to send Second Fleet reinforcements. Admiral Sienkov had asked for an updated status on all damaged ships but then had put an order out for the newly constituted First Battle Cruiser Squadron to get ready for movement, along with the dreadnought, a screen of ships and a small convoy of supporting ships. Good.
He tapped out the email, copying and pasting the last reports on each of the ships as required. Half of them had already returned to duty. There was no need for them to sit around any longer. Their crews might have fallen victim to BUPERS, but the news crews would have plenty of sailing time between Antigua and the front to get up to speed. It was time for them to get back into the fight and kick some pirate ass.
He smiled slightly as he tapped that last missive out before signing his name and hitting send.
Chapter 48
B-88R
Rear Admiral V'r'z'll reflected about her position. She couldn't complain in one regard; her people were seeing some action. They had captured three enemy ships in the time they'd waited in the empty star system. Two of the ships were old transports. A third had been a tin can coming up behind them from B-887R that had been easily picked off
.
All three ships had been Horathian. What stood out to her was the latest catch. It had been a slow bulk freighter, one that hadn't even bothered to try to bluff her way past her ships.
Her left truehand reached out and touched a replay button.
“What's this? What's the meaning of this?”
“Isn't it obvious? We're the Federation Navy. You are from Horath. The Horathian Empire …”
“Run that last one by me again, Sonny?”
“The Horathian Empire.”
“Never heard of it. Then again, we had problems in transit. We've been stuck on this run for nearly a decade in the damn lowest octave of Alpha band.”
“That sucks. I'd give you my sympathies, but you are a Horathian marked ship.”
“So?”
“So, prepare to be boarded and inspected.”
“Now look, is this a joke? Who do I have to pay off for you to leave me alone?” the crotchety voice demanded.
“No joke,” the communications tech replied, rolling his eyes in despair to his section chief. The ensign was listening in. She pursed her lips and then shook her head.
She paused the replay. She didn't have to see it from the bridge perspective but it was entertaining. Seeing the human fuming tended to do that. She'd heard about what his kind had done to hers and others. Well, now he and his crew were in the brigs of her ships, and a prize crew was going over each of the ships. The tin can had been destroyed with all hands, but each of the transports had surrendered intact. The last ship wasn't much of a prize though, the captain had been telling the truth, and he'd been bumbling around in hyperspace for years. He was lucky to get out at all. She shivered slightly. That was one thing she hated about interstellar travel, that something could go wrong leaving them stranded.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Brown realized they were in the shit when they had gotten to B-887R and had found the mass of ion trails to B-88R and to the Konahagakure chain. In his zeal to beat Chen's Silver Tongue Devil he'd forgotten that he'd be venturing into possible enemy territory. Sometimes the victor got the short end of the stick he reminded himself. Talk about screwing up. He couldn't help but kick himself a bit more. If he'd realized it sooner, he would have deliberately held back to lose that race. Here be dragons indeed. And the dragons might have missed him, but they'd cut off his retreat.
Worse yet, they had enough fuel to get home with a small reserve but nowhere else he considered safe. That was a serious problem, one he wasn't certain they could solve. But he was going to try or die trying.
It was the die trying that really sucked though.
“We're secure from jump,” the helmsman reported.
“Keep those hyper capacitors charged. CIC, anything?”
“Too soon, Skipper,” the CIC tech said, voice taught with tension.
“Helm, move us off. Let the courier know to do the same. I'd rather be a blind moving target than one sitting still,” the captain said.
“Course?” the navigator asked.
“Plot a least time course …”
“Skipper, sorry, contact report. We've got incoming small craft on our long range lidar.”
“And so it begins. IDs? I don't suppose they are friendly?” the captain asked.
“Cobra class fighters, sir. We have very few in inventory.”
“I thought not,” the captain said with a theatrical exhale. “Well, it never hurts to ask I suppose,” he said, settling himself firmly in the hot seat. “Battle stations.”
The XO shook his head. Trembling Timmy and her courier consort had come about after seeing the ion trails of a fleet. There had been so many ion trails it had spooked the entire crew. It hadn't taken a lot of thought for everyone to realize the crack they were in. The realization that the enemy might be behind them already due to their speed was now a reality, an unpalatable one, but there was no denying it. “It's like two ships passing in the depths of hyperspace. Neither had any idea of the other.”
“We are so screwed,” a tech murmured.
“Not yet we're not,” the captain growled. He'd deliberately had them jump well short of the normal jump zone. The courier had come out over five million kilometers behind him.
Captain Brown couldn't help but grimace as the plot stabilized. He heard a soft whimper at the sight of the enemy ships that were being steadily added to it. “What do we do, sir?” his XO asked worriedly.
“We do our duty. We run. Buy the courier time,” the captain replied.
“She may not get to Garth,” the XO said, leaning in to talk softly to him.
“No, she may not, but we've got to try,” the captain stated.
“What about us, sir?”
“Oh, we're going to be right alongside her,” the captain growled. “But no one guaranteed Lady Luck's blessings would last forever. She'll do what she can for us, if she's even on our side to begin with.” He turned to the plot. “Something tells me she's not.”
“Damn,” the XO murmured as he straightened.
:::{)(}:::
The Veraxin rear admiral watched as her carriers launched waves of bombers and fighters to engage the enemy ships that had appeared behind them near the jump point. Righteous Swarm's brood had point since she was closest. They were spreading out on every known vector, forming a net that the enemy ships would not escape from.
To everyone's surprise the courier went wide to avoid the net of small craft. She slingshoted around a nearby ice moon and then headed for deep space on an entirely new vector, far from her intended course. As soon as she got to a minimum safe distance on the edge of the star system, she jumped blind.
She didn't know a lot about hyperphysics and starflight yet but even she saw it as a desperate and reckless move. Still, with the small ship so far out, there had been only a narrow chance of pinning her down.
:::{)(}:::
“Well, that certainly cleared our options,” Captain Brown said. He hadn't known Captain Soon Li would do that. She certainly hadn't told him; she'd just done it. He shook his head. In a way he was grateful, his ship no longer had to protect hers. “It's up to us now,” he said as the net of fighters and bombers focused on his ship. “Launch fighters.”
“Like they'll do us any good,” the XO murmured but he passed the order on anyway.
The four fighters that launched weren't even a sop or forlorn hope. They were a useless waste, a pointless gesture but also a middle finger to the enemy telling them they planned to go down fighting.
He was annoyed when all four of his fighters were taken out quickly and efficiently. It wasn't just the enemy's numbers, it was their tech and skill. He scowled as the fighters reformed on the other ships.
“Nav, plot us a slingshot course. Guns, fire every kinetic round we've got into their path.”
“A blunderbuss will only delay the inevitable, sir,” the tactical officer warned.
“I'm not giving up,” the captain growled. “Nav, the courier made a short jump I bet. Just enough to get clear. We're going to do the same. How far out do we need to be for a minimum safe jump? I'm talking a skip.”
“Another AU, Captain. If we change our heading, come to port on a heading of 280 degrees by positive 2-3 degrees for a 10.4 minute full burn. It will put us on a minimum course. But Skipper …”
“Not now,” the captain said. “Helm, execute that course change now. Full burn as specified.”
“Aye, sir. Coming to a heading of 280 degrees by 2-3 degrees positive for a 10.4 mike burn.”
“But Skipper, trying to do a skip this far in a solar system is tantamount to suicide! We've got a lot of rock in the Oort cloud. It may not seem like it now, but in hyper those mass shadows will tear us to shreds!” the navigator said desperately.
“No choice. We risk it,” the captain said. “Plot your course. Keep it low and slow.”
“Aye, sir,” the navigator replied dubiously, realizing the skipper wasn't going to be dissuaded from his chosen course of action.
�
��Well, the good news is the course change has thrown off the incoming bombers,” the XO said dryly. The captain turned to the plot and grunted. The sudden burn had indeed thrown the enemy's projected course off. They were already reacting, but he knew it would mess their carefully-laid trap up a bit.
He couldn't help but smile a mirthless smile at getting one over on them, however small a victory it was.
“We can't fight and keep the hyper capacitors charged, Skipper,” the XO warned.
“What's the bleed off?”
“Two percent per minute. We can't keep them at peak or the capacitors will dump or blow. Engineering is already warning that some are overstressed.”
“Tell them to do what they can. We need that power.” He looked at the countdown clock the navigator put up. They had to survive the next twenty minutes. He scowled when he saw the clock that the Tactical Department put up under it. They had eighteen minutes until the enemy's bombers were in extreme range.
“Engineering, now is the time to squeeze as much power out as you can. Or there will be no tomorrow.”
“We've got the hamsters doing all they can, Skipper,” the chief replied and then began to curse at someone in the background.
“Right,” the captain drawled as he went back to staring at the plot.
:::{)(}:::
“What are they doing?” Captain Chavez demanded. She had to privately admit, being where she was suddenly beat sitting in a battle cruiser in Pyrax.
“They are running,” the XO said.
“No shit Dick,” the captain said flippantly. She cut herself off. “That's suicide.”
“Yeah, well, the courier tried it too, ma'am,” her XO said with a shake of his head.
“And most likely they are dead,” she replied.
“Maybe,” the XO replied in a dubious tone.
“Most likely. Okay, we don't know that for sure. So, let's make sure they don't get away,” the captain growled.