Tales of the Federation Reborn 1

by Chris Hechtl

  “Quite extraordinary,” the doctor murmured.

  * * * *

  “Damn those things are big,” Oppie said, shaking his head as he looked at the stats. “I get the size, but … damn,” he said again.

  Falling Leaf looked at her boss and then shook her head. “Easy enough to get lost in here. I'd hate to try to man one of those monsters,” she said, indicating the Dreadnaught.

  “What gets me is, they went with their own designs. Take this thing. Boxy, a long rectangle with drives on one end. All sublight. Got that.”

  “And?”

  “And it's a monster. Turrets on all four sides, which makes sense. Sensors and missile tubes in the bow and in the flanks. She can blind herself. What gets me is this one,” he said, flipping the holographic image to another capital ship. This one had the same core but had a pair of carrier decks on either flank instead of the turrets. Her dorsal and ventral turrets had been scaled back or replaced with point defense. There was a Prifly Island tower offset on each of the carriers, and a much larger one slightly off center near the midships. It looked vaguely like a giant robot.

  “They’re battle carriers. Yeah, I saw that too. The bow was supposed to house some sort of primary gun; I think they were working on a capital ship force beam emitter at one time. Instead they managed to rediscover energy shields but couldn't get the pop gun to work.”

  “And yet, they put this monster into mass production.”

  “Over centuries, yes,” Falling Leaf replied. “Apparently it made sense the frame design and the rest of the design is sound. I do like how they showed a bit of independence of attitude in going their own way with the designs, at least in theory. They won't help much in our conflict though, not everything is compatible. They didn't stockpile components or ship frames like we did in Pyrax it seems.”

  “Well, I don't know,” the Neoorangutan replied, scratching his head. “You'd have to talk to Galavant about that, but I think he mentioned that they tried to keep everything possible to Federation standard. The ships also have common parts to ease logistical headaches. For instance, the capital ships here have something like 70 percent parts in common, even portions of their frames and hulls. They share parts in common with the cruisers, who share parts in common with the destroyers, and so on and so forth down the line.”

  “That makes sense. A bolt is a bolt after all. An airlock is an airlock,” Falling Leaf replied.

  “Right. But this thing, this battle carrier, it's asymmetrical. That doesn't make a lick of sense. See how one carrier is bigger than the other? Why? The port side is longer, bigger. The starboard is shorter but a little broader. The same for the Prifly Island, why have it off center?”

  `”It would make steerage and boosting a challenge. Just turning those things … they definitely do not turn on a dime. I bet they can roll fast though.”

  “That I can believe. Did you see some of their tactical doctrine?” he asked, turning to look at his diminutive subordinate.

  “Yes. The spin maneuver?”

  “Yes,” he replied, looking back at the capital ships. “Fire, rotate, fire … spread the damage and keep from getting a burn through in one spot. That's the theory.”

  “I'm curious how well it would hold up with modern weapons,” Falling Leaf mused. “I bet they got the idea from a Relgarth. They tend to bite chunks and roll,” she said.

  “Wow. You, an elf, know that?” Oppie said, turning to her. “Are you a closet Amazon or something?”

  “I like to know what I'm up against and what part to avoid if I have to. The tail is also dangerous by the way.”

  Oppie stared at her briefly then snorted. “Okay,” he said, turning back to the ship.

  “They didn't do it all right. You heard about some of their disasters?”

  “Vasa? Yeah, I caught that,” Oppie murmured, eyes still on the capital ship. He wasn't a carrier ops expert so he wasn't sure what it would be like to fight the ship.

  “They at least learned from the experience. At least I thought they did. But when you look at this ship... one wonders,” the elf said.

  “You know, I looked the name up. I didn't get a hit initially, but apparently they had something in their records. A Swedish ship that had been built on old Earth thousands of years ago and didn't survive more than fifteen minutes out of port. Something about being too top heavy and no belly? You'd think they'd learn with their own Vasa or this,” he said, indicating the SDF-1.

  “Apparently the analogy wasn't drawn until their sleeper historian dredged it up,” Falling Leaf said after a moment, reading the incident over again.

  “I honestly don't see these ships being able to be refitted as starships. They are better off using them defensively here until they can mothball or scrap them,” Oppie said finally.

  “Yeah, try telling them that,” Falling Leaf drawled. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow but she just shook her head.

  * * * *

  “I think all this time we've been getting ahead of ourselves,” Captain Perth said as he finished an evening drink with Admiral Sienkov and the lieutenant governor. The admiral had made it known he was retiring and going to lead the military side of the delegation. The lieutenant governor had announced that morning that she had tendered her resignation and would also be a part of the delegation.

  “Oh?” the admiral asked casually as he examined his glass.

  “Both Admiral Irons, myself … for the record, is Bek going to rejoin the Federation sir?”

  “We never left. We just got forgotten,” Moira replied.

  Captain Perth nodded. “I see.” He cocked his head as he studied the beautiful woman then nodded. “I understand, and I'm glad we cleared that up.”

  “Good.”

  “So no one other than us in seven centuries?” the captain asked.

  “No. We tried to send ships. I wasn't aware of the wreckage in B102c though,” Admiral Sienkov stated as he poured himself another glass of scotch.

  Captain Perth nodded, clearly sobered. “It's bad around the jump point. I think a lot of ships carrying refugees fled into the rapids only to find it is a meat grinder. The video just doesn't cut it.”

  “Terrible, just terrible. To think some of those ships survived the rapids only to run into a ship at the jump point and be torn apart,” the admiral said, making a face.

  “Yes, yes it was. We were lucky to get through it in one piece. We've got a good conn team and a very good engineering team.”

  “That is good to know, since I'll be one of the people returning with you.”

  “You … yes, ma'am,” he said nodding.

  “Good.” She frowned then shrugged. “For the record though, you aren't the only one to come in seven centuries,” she said.

  “Ma'am?” Captain Perth asked, frowning.

  “My grandmother did. They found her stasis pod in B102c. It was adrift. To this day we're not sure how she got there. She was a child, ten or so. Her memory at the time was pretty shattered. The medics spent years trying to get her to open up, to … I guess the term is, pick her memory to find out what clues they could. Nothing came of it.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “Glad they found her, ma'am.”

  “Me too,” she said, flashing a brief smile. “If only out of self-interest. I wouldn't be here after all if they hadn't.”

  “Well ma'am, your grandmother has something in common with Admiral Irons then since he too was lost adrift for a long time. Perhaps they can talk sometime or she can talk to Captain Logan.”

  “Captain …,” She wrinkled her pert nose at him.

  “There are … how many I'm not sure, but there are a couple hundred sleepers that are awake now, ma'am. Captain Logan is one of them.”

  “I see,” she said nodding. “Well, I'm looking forward to meeting him then.”

  “He's a bit like the admiral, ma'am. Older, but deep down, bedrock. He tells you something, you can rely on it. He's been accused of playing favorites since his daughter is a ship's
captain, but he's been there and he's worked wonders. He's an engineering officer like Admiral Irons.”

  She smiled again. “Then I am definitely looking forward to meeting him,” she said.

  * * * *

  Doctor Windswept looked serenely out to the view from her porch then to the assembled delegates. “So beautiful,” she murmured, referring to the night sky and the red dwarf up there. It was emitting a burst of radiation so it pulsed a blue. The elderly star somehow matched the High Elf. “You do your people a great honor,” she murmured softly, long arms touching the door jam with long delicate fingers.

  High elves were a genetically engineered species. They were said to have come from low gravity stock, but that wasn't the case. True they had similar traits, long bodies over two meters in height, but they were incredibly strong.

  They also had golden cat-like eyes and long tipped ears. Some of the species had sewn the tips of their ears together behind their heads. They were insular, with their own society and preferred to minimize their interaction with the outside world as a group. They lived twice as long as a normal human, rarely showing signs of age. Doctor Windswept, however, wore her age like the shawl of silk around her shoulders, like a badge of honor rather than a burden.

  Moira bowed her head slightly. The elderly high elf was much revered by the various peoples in her home star system. Only Admiral Irons was more admired and respected.

  “Are you certain of this course of action?” the historian asked.

  “We are.”

  “Then my work is finally fulfilled, and I may finish my life,” the historian said. She heaved a soft sigh. “It has been such a terrible burden all these years. I do wonder if Admiral Irons had the same problem I did upon awakening.”

  “Time shock, ma'am?” Admiral Sienkov asked. After his resignation he'd been voluntarily demoted to vice admiral to maintain the chain of command. He was still wrestling with the demotion internally.

  “No, the Arthur Pendragon syndrome,” the historian said with a slight trace of a smile.

  He frowned then nodded slowly. “I know the name, but the reference eludes me.”

  “It is an ancient human one from the time of the British Isles,” the historian explained. “King Arthur became a great unifying king. A lot of the concepts of chivalry can be traced to stories of his court. He became a legend. In the romantic fantasy myths, the king was critically injured and then taken to Avalon to slumber until he was needed again.”

  “I suddenly see your reference, my lady,” the admiral said quietly.

  “I see that you do. Admiral Irons is much needed now. This is his time.”

  “But you can and will still contribute?” Moira asked.

  “Of course,” the historian said. “But my chosen role in life was always that of an observer, watching the flow of time and commenting on it. I've treasured my ability to interpret and teach it. But I am aware that one cannot interact with events without changing them in some way. That was never my intent. Now I can fall back to my chosen role and let my life cycle work its inevitable way to completion,” she said.

  Long blue arms wrapped in flowing sheer silk touched the drapery framing the French doors.

  “In some ways I envy you, making history while also observing it. Do make certain you get as much documentation as possible. Your thoughts, your journals, all of it. Those like me and those in future times will spend endless amounts of time arguing about it I'm certain, but the more there is, the more interesting it becomes.”

  “You aren't worried it is as a trap?” Admiral Sienkov asked.

  The elderly high elf turned to him. “You think the messages are ruse? An electronic fabrication?” she asked carefully.

  “I've considered it. I've kept the thoughts to myself.”

  “And yet you are going anyway? Why? Some would call that brave or foolish.”

  “To see for myself and because I believe I can be of some use.”

  “So you don't think your fears are valid.”

  “No. Counsel with your fears but don't let them control you or you will regret it. Something you said I believe.”

  “Not exactly. That is a horribly mangled quote,” the elderly woman stated. She ran her long fingers over her scalp. “I don't have the main source material in my implants.”

  “It doesn't matter. We're leaving tomorrow. We wished to thank you, ma'am,” Moira interjected smoothly.

  “Bridge? No, Ellington? No, darn it,” the woman looked lost. Her golden eyes darted around. “Do see if you can find the proper source if you gain access to the historical archives of New Alexandria,” she stated.

  Moira fought to keep her poise and not suck in a breath of distress. They knew New Alexandria had been destroyed. That slip in memory told her the historian was beginning to slip with her memory. It was unfortunate, but perhaps it was time.

  “Thank you, ma'am. We'll be certain to look it up,” Moira said, showing the others out of the apartment.

  “Briggington, darn it …,” the elderly woman said, still at the doors, still grappling with what had been lost and not realizing it had been. Her caretakers looked on and then to Moira. One shook her head and entered the room, closing the door behind her. The other stayed behind to show the group out.

  “Is she always like this?” Moira asked.

  “This is my first experience since the last time she woke was nearly thirty years ago, mum,” the Neodog said, ears back. “I heard her memory and mind were slipping; that was why she went into stasis.”

  “And yet we woke her?”

  “Her orders when she was of sound mind. We are to care for her but not to interfere with the natural progression of the cycle. Her words, mum,” the Neodog said, clearly distressed. She heaved a sigh. “We will endure as she will. Safe journey,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  Moira glanced back and then to the back of the admiral. Apparently the historian was going on her own journey of discovery.

  * * * *

  Two weeks after their arrival, twelve days after their public announcement, Caroline was serviced with fuel and ready to depart.

  It had taken a bit of effort on the crew's part to rearrange the berths on board to accommodate the twenty personnel, ten civilians, and ten military officers that were coming back with them. Along with the gear and gifts intended for Nuevo.

  Captain Perth was quite glad to leave. He'd had his fill of the media circus. Just attending the talk show circuit and the relentless interviews had been hard on him. He swore the muscles and tendons in his face were fused into a polite smile.

  Admiral Sienkov was head of the military side of the delegation, closely followed by Admiral Zekowitz. Each of them had limited their staff to a couple captains, commanders, and flag lieutenants.

  Admiral Sienkov he could understand, though why Admiral Zekowitz had decided to tag along he wasn't certain about. Perhaps to see what else was in Pyrax? Or, more likely, to get the keys? That might be it, he thought with a nod.

  Most of the delegates had been human or Neo, again surprising. There were a few bugs, like Captain Senior Grade Ch'ch'tt, a Veraxin female, and Lieutenant Commander Swish Clack, a T'clock female.

  His largest concern was the Neopolar bear marine, Major Theodore Edward Bear the IIXXX. The marine was the Bekian head of security and a rarity in the Bekian military, a jar head. He was getting chummy with Ensign Dega and his squad in Caroline's small marine country.

  “A hell of a lot of brass on board, sir. Sure the gal can weigh anchor and get underway?” Angie asked.

  “I think they'd be a bit put out over us trying to lighten the load,” the captain replied with a slight smile. He felt that trace of an ache again and his smile vanished as quickly as it was formed.

  “Good luck and Spirit of Space speed Caroline. Many safe and happy returns,” a voice said over the PA. The officers looked up and then over to the comm rating. She shrugged.

  “That came in from the president's office. I th
ought you'd like to hear it, sir.”

  “Next time a little warning and protocol,” the XO said tartly. The rating flinched then nodded.

  “Sorry, ma'am.”

  “No bother. This time,” the XO stressed.

  “We're all buttoned up, sir,” the bosun reported from his station.

  “Comm, signal Bek high command we are ready to depart,” the captain said.

  “Aye aye, sir,” the rating said crisply, turning back to her station.

  * * * *

  Caroline's jump out of the solar system was uneventful. Since the delegation were all high ranking, the crew staved off the urge to indoctrinate them as hyperdrogs.

  The delegation had been expected; what hadn't been expected was the numbers involved. Twenty, which meant a bit of doubling up for the crew. The bosun found some empty beds in sickbay as well as in the ship's boat bay for the very junior enlisted to occupy. Hammocks were distributed to them. The captain made a note to cut them some slack for such sacrifices.

  The ship was crowded, but they learned to deal with it as the Bekians settled in. There was some minor grumbling from the Bek civilians like Miss Sema, but a second tour of the ship showed them that there were no frills in the warship, no staterooms being left unoccupied or occupied by people who didn't deserve it.

  The fact that Chief Galavant had given up his berth to Admiral Zekowitz and Admiral Sienkov and their staff was mentioned twice before Miss Sema gave up her protests and stormed off.

  The jumps through B109 and B104 were uneventful, though Chief Galavant had his hands full each time with Admiral Zekowitz sticking his nose into the process and quizzing his people about each and every step and the whys involved in the procedures and mechanics involved. The rest of the Bek delegation prowled the ship when they weren't delving into the databases. It seemed they wanted to learn as much as possible as fast as possible. “Commodores” Ch'ch'tt and Chavez spent a great deal of time replaying the battles with lengthy discussions with the tactical department. When Oppie led them into a full sim in CIC, he endeared them briefly into their good graces.