by Chris Hechtl
Either way it was still good to see them so quickly. It spoke of good things for the future. It also told him his faith in Horatio and the team he'd left behind had been right. That was a relief.
They had to wait on a helm team to get them through the rapids. He made a note to get more water dwellers there. Based on the hot wash he received, the crews of each of the ships were solid but a little green when it came to their ships. Both ships had reported a series of teething issues, most of which from his opinion could have been avoided.
They were going to have to be sorted out in Pyrax after going through rapids he knew. Each pair would free up a division to be sent out for wolf packs as well as convoy escorts and reinforcements to the Eastern Front however.
He was surprised when, after he logged the order, he received a protest from Captain JG Allen Redspot of Cinquedea.
He read the email and frowned. He typed out a quick reply and hit send. “We all have a role to play. Everyone is doing the job they are assigned. Do you have a problem with that?”
The reply came back within a minute. “No, sir. I just think it is a waste of resources. I've been a captain for years.”
“And you want to prove how good you are. Glory hound?” the admiral typed.
“No, sir. Just … respectfully requesting,” the Neodog said, ears back, clearly nettled by the comparison.
“I'll take it under advisement; remember, you aren't even out of the nexus yet,” Admiral Irons said as Federation One locked down her communications for the final preparations to jump.
:::{)(}:::
Antigua
Admiral Sienkov shook his head as he read the news of the ships arrival in B-102c. It was a relief, and surprising. He hadn't expected them so soon. Apparently, Horatio really was good at his job.
Well, there was that thing they said about engineers and miracle workers …
“Admiral Irons has left Agnosta,” Moira said. “That'll give us a couple days as the news cycle dies down. Liobat will appreciate the basic inquiries on his status,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Look at this,” he said, handing her the tablet. She took it with a puzzled frown and then her eyebrows rose. “Are you serious?” she asked, looking up in surprise and excitement to him.
“Yes. Our countrymen have come through. Finally,” he said.
“Damn,” she murmured, fighting a grin. “That just made my day.”
“It'll make Liobat's too. Given the situation I'm going to authorize her and the navy Public Affairs Department to let the media know about the ships.”
“No problems with secrecy? You don't want to ramp up numbers or keep hopes from raising too high?” Moira asked carefully.
He shook his head. “I don't see the point. On the contrary, it's good press and it helps put the final nails in the Bek coffin.”
“Point,” she replied slowly as she began to nod. “It shows the people that we're willing to work and we just had a case of bad apples at the top keeping us from doing that. I'll make sure my people spin that carefully.”
“Good.”
“Any word elsewhere? White? V'r'z'll?”
“Nothing. You already know that V'r'z'll has packed up her ansible and gone on the attack. We won't hear anything from her until she gets to Garth.”
“Great,” Moira sighed.
“Admiral White is supposed to send us a courier back with a heads-up when he's going to go on the offense.”
“Supposed to,” Moira echoed. “Right. If he screws this up though …”
“I hope not.”
“Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat. “I was going to say, if he screws this up, what are the chances of putting someone else in his place?”
“Say that again?” Yorgi asked carefully.
“I'm talking about Admiral Champion or someone we know.”
“I … don't know,” Yorgi said slowly. “I don't think it will come to that. I don't know Admiral Irons' plans for her yet. Most likely he intends for her to take over home fleet here.”
“It makes sense, though she would be underutilized,” Moira persisted. “Why not send her to the front?”
“Because she has a lot to learn. Technically, he should have left her in Pyrax to learn at the academy in San Diego. But he didn't.”
“Ah.”
“Still, you do have a point. There is a period of adaptation, but she is more the top of the pyramid. She makes the calls but it is the staff that has to know the basics of their jobs. She just needs to know enough to make sure they are doing it right. I'll talk to Admiral Irons when he's out of hyper.”
“Okay,” Moira replied with a nod.
“What about you? Glad your time in the hot seat is almost over?” he teased.
“You have no idea,” she replied drolly, rolling her eyes in mock despair. “I don't mind my job, but I haven't been able to do much with it. I need to change that soon.”
“Oh?”
“I think I'm going to have to do some state visits myself as soon as he's back. Hit the upper reaches; maybe dip into Pi a little. Talk to some of the players.”
Yorgi nodded slowly. “In other words, get your diplomatic credentials properly,” he said.
“Exactly,” she murmured.
“Good girl.”
She dimpled. “I try,” she murmured.
Chapter 63
Dead Drop
Cyrano sipped the last of his evening drink and then set the empty glass on the tray. He knew his steward would get it in a few minutes, most likely when he was distracted. Wilfred was good at that.
He frowned as he stared off at the screen showing the system plot. His plan to set up a trap at the gas giant was now up in the air. He had been given a heads-up in a courier that the promised reinforcements were finally in motion. There was no time table on when he'd receive them, but at least they were finally moving out of Horath.
Maybe. Possibly, he thought sourly.
If they could get them in place, then he could stand down his current forces and use the reinforcements to go on the offense despite his orders to only secure Dead Drop. He wanted that rematch; he wanted to crush the damn chimp's fleet once and for all.
But, it wouldn't happen today or even tomorrow he reminded himself. For all he knew, the new flag officers coming in could have orders for him to return to Horath proper. Hopefully not, but the possibility existed. They all theoretically served at the pleasure of the emperor. He was pretty certain Emperor Ramichov was not pleased with him and what had happened to the forces he'd been entrusted to.
But that was a problem for tomorrow he reminded himself as he looked at the tablet once more before bed. Nothing had changed. There was a shipment of emergency fighters due at the end of the week, new pilots coming in from the crash course training facility Captain Abernly's people had thrown together. Just enough to match the number of new fighters, but that was it.
His battered dreadnought flagship Executioner led two squadrons of battle cruisers. The reconstituted First Battle Cruiser Squadron, made up of the only two survivors, Demeantor and Unconquered, both still far from what he'd called healthy, along with the eight ships in the Seventh Battle Cruiser Squadron.
He had two mixed CruRons to screen them made up of six heavy cruisers including the partially rebuilt Hunter, two medium cruisers, and three light cruisers.
He had twenty-two destroyers of mixed classes in three DesRons. Along with the destroyer flotilla, he had sixteen frigates, eight Apollo class corvettes, and sixteen HK.
His best Sunday punch remained in his carrier force however. Leading them was the fleet carrier Nimitz. She had his twenty-three bombers along with 424 fighters stuffed on board her. She was far over establishment on craft, but the fighters were mixed.
Haige and Audacious each had sixty fighters, far more than either of them could normally handle. He was getting constant complaints about that from the carrier wing personnel and support personnel.
He had moved all of t
he best fighters to the carriers. Marginal fighters were now housed in the carrier platforms and barges covering the inner star system. His top pilots were on Nimitz. He'd considered distributing them but wanted a concentrated punch.
That had altered things with many ships since they'd had to give up their fighters and some of their support personnel for emergency fighters in return. Berney was still enduring the howls and repeated requests to get their own fighters back.
He was also getting the same flack from the cruiser and destroyer captains who had their fighters replaced with emergency fighters. The good news was each of those ships had a full complement of the craft. He would replace them eventually but not anytime soon.
Well, if he could he would he corrected himself mentally. Eventually, he planned on retiring the emergency fighters to the back lines but not yet. For the time being, the stopgap measure they provided was critical to him.
Altogether he had 364 emergency fighters and 1,304 fighters total. Not bad, but he didn't even want to think about what the Federation forces would bring to bear against him.
In order to fight, he was going to have to fight defensively. He couldn't take his carrier platforms or fighter barges with him after all. Even with them his fighters were marginal against the enemy's superior fighters at best.
Despite what Myron was drawing up, he had no intention of going on the offense. A spoiler raid against the force that had undoubtedly moved into Dd01ns would be suicide for those involved. He couldn't afford to waste ships for little or no return.
What he was seriously tempted to do was to send a couple ships out to scout. Ships dispatched to come out far from the normal jump zone, get a read on the enemy forces in the star system, then retreat. Information was what he was after. He didn't like that he didn't know what he was up against.
Commodore Rabideau was still on picket duty. It wasn't because he distrusted the man; he'd seen the reports and understood the clash that had occurred in Dd01ns. The commodore should have known better. He'd taken his lumps though and was a lot more thoughtful when it came to pie-in-the-sky planning and the natural urges for some officers to demand they go on the offense.
Commodore Couglin had been tempered by that recent related experience. That was good and bad in his estimation.
He had done what he could to train the two flag officers, but they still had a lot of rough edges. Hell, rough edges pretty much defined everything in the star system, including his ship. He grimaced as his fingers scratched at a cut on his thigh. He'd brushed too close to a piece of metal someone had tacked onto a patch but hadn't ground down yet. The cut was healing but it itched. He had to sternly remind himself to not scratch so much that he peeled the scab off again.
He frowned and then decided it was time to get what sleep he could. Tomorrow was another day. He had a staff meeting in the morning and then he planned to have another chat with Captain Abernly about future production priorities and the quality of the food they were sending up to the fleet. He didn't bother to suppress a yawn as he stretched and made his way to bed.
:::{)(}:::
Berney finished going over the morning reports before the staff meeting and then sat back as he sipped his coffee. He grimaced at the taste. The local brew sucked. He reminded himself again to make sure the swill went to some locals who appreciated the flavor and to segregate any coffee that came in from outside the system for the staff.
Staff, hell, himself he thought, examining the cup. What did they do, run it through the grounds twice and then a gym sock? He shook his head and set the cup aside.
He frowned as he looked down at the tablet. He didn't like the idea of turtling. That was essentially what they were doing. When the commodore had gone out to finally do something, he'd seen a noticeable uptick in confidence and morale in the sailors. When the commodore had come back with his tail between his legs, it had plummeted, and he'd had to start all over again.
That was one reason he was pushing for something. Not strictly an offense, he knew they weren't ready for that, but something to push back and regain the confidence of the men and women under their command. He knew that many were getting anxious. Some needed something to do; the anxiety of not knowing when the enemy would attack was beginning to gnaw at them. And the constant training … he shook his head.
He looked at the clock and then grimaced. He rose from his chair and then stretched before he set the cup down beside the wardroom sink. He gathered up his tablet and then decided to hit the head before the meeting. Maybe, just maybe Cyrano would be open to doing something progressive he thought as the door shut behind him.
:::{)(}:::
Second Fleet punctuated their arrival in the Dead Drop star system with the usual energetic event. The fleet came in well outside the expected jump zone. Aleck had dropped them in high on the ecliptic, well off course on purpose to avoid any defenses.
“We are out of hyperspace, sir. All ships are securing from jump,” Aleck reported as he turned to the admiral.
“Are we where we want to be?” the admiral asked as he crossed his arms.
“Within five thousand kilometers of your designated jump-out zone, sir,” Leopold reported, a beat ahead of the human. “Not bad for an organic,” he said as a backhanded compliment to Aleck.
“Thanks,” Aleck drawled. “I did my part.”
“That you did. Now it's time the rest of us did ours,” the Neochimp admiral said, eyes searching the plot as data slowly began to trickle in.
The four fleet groups were arrayed around Bismark. Based on the initial read, both sides had a single dreadnought flagship and a single fleet carrier in their fleet. Things fluctuated from there though. He was aware that he was light on some of the categories, most noticeably in battle cruisers. He was confident his fighters and bombers would make up the difference.
:::{)(}:::
All his plans were for naught when the alarm klaxon went off. He looked up sharply and then triggered his intercom as he began to change. “Report,” he said.
“Sir, a massive force has jumped into the star system. It is well outside the Dd01ns jump zone,” CIC warned.
Admiral De Gaulte wasn't the only one to look up sharply and then freeze when that news hit them. “I'll be on the bridge in a moment,” the admiral said, dismissing his staff. “And so it begins,” the admiral murmured as he rose from his chair. He hid a groan.
“It looks like Smoke and Mirrors didn't work, sir. They didn't buy it,” Sedrick stated.
“No, but it got them to send that second scouting mission, so it did buy us some time. We'll deal with it. Let the cards fall where they may.”
“Aye aye, sir. Plan?”
“Get me more information first, but send the alert out,” the admiral said, looking at Berney.
“Already done, sir,” Berney replied with a nod.
“Good. Pull up any fighters from the planet. We'll need them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'll be there in a moment,” the admiral said as he changed course from the exit door to another.
Berney frowned as the admiral went to the head and then set any sort of thoughts of misgivings aside. The man was just getting ready for a long day he reminded himself as he turned to the staff and got their people to begin processing the data as it came in.
“Here we go,” Jeremy murmured. “Apparently, they are done with pussy footing around. That's a nice tight drop. I couldn't have done it better myself. No way is that a decoy or prowler.”
“Agreed,” Admiral De Gaulte rumbled as he came up behind them. The staff navigator turned expectantly to him. “It's where I'd put them.”
“Then why did we put so much stock in defending the jump zone, sir?” Berney asked, clearly aggrieved by the idea.
“Because we had to.”
:::{)(}:::
“Here we go,” Garfield murmured as the first readings began to come in.
“CIC is still crunching the data, sir, but no surprises near us. Neutrinos are bei
ng filtered now. We're cross matching what we are getting now with what the prowler found earlier.”
“Good.”
“I can tell you this, sir, right off you were right. Those ships in orbit have to be decoys. There are no neutrinos being detected from any of them.”
“Understood. Well, that's a relief then, isn't it?” Amadeus said, cracking a smile. Garfield flicked his ears and then shrugged.
“I'll let you know once the dust settles, sir,” the Neocat replied.
:::{)(}:::
“Damn! Another couple of days, maybe a week or two at best and we would have the forces here to not only trounce them but annihilate their Federation!” Berney groused.
“Enough,” Admiral De Gaulte said. “We have what we've got. We'll make the best of it.”
“Aye aye, sir. I'd just love to be around when those ships do finally get around to showing up.”
“You and me both. So, let's see what we can do about that,” the admiral rumbled. He turned to Sedrick. “What do we know?”
“We are still reorienting the visual platforms, and the data will take time to come in. I can tell you it was a massive jump, and we're getting a cluster of data. I'm currently basing the enemy ship numbers off of the single peek we had from Widow's Playmate plus our last encounter at the moment, sir.”
“Very well, keep me posted.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
Admiral White watched as the plot began to speckle with fresh icons as their sensor returns came in. They already had the star system plotted out from their archives. He already knew everything he could about it; they'd studied it often enough in their planning sessions. Nothing had changed for the basics of course.
There were five planets total. The inner most was a Mercury class. Then in the goldilocks zone was the actual Dead Drop planet with two moons and dozens of platforms and stations. Further out at one of the Lagrange points was the repair yard and additional platforms.