Rebel

by Mike Shepherd

  “When do you expect the swap out to take place?” Admiral von Mittleburg asked.

  “Of late, the returning party has only gotten through the jump an hour or so before the next ships jump out. This time, the next leave party looks like a bunch of eager beavers that can’t wait. I would be surprised if they didn’t jump out before the next batch get here.”

  “Too bad we can’t do a bit of damage to them while they’re at half strength,” Admiral Bolesław suggested through a wolfish grin. “It would be nice to see how many of them we could cut out while they were missing half their fleet.”

  “It would be nice, but I see no way for us to do that before they could concentrate again. Too bad you didn’t think about that idea a week ago.”

  “We didn’t have fourteen battleships a week ago,” Admiral Bolesław pointed out.

  “True,” seemed to finish it.

  It had to, the room had taken on a deathly pall.

  Commander Blue had his right hand to his earbud and was slowly raising his left. “We’re getting a message from the Halum. Those ships we expected back from liberty later today are jumping into the Butcher’s system now. They’ve got a good thirty thousand klicks on them coming through the jump.”

  “Somebody is in an all-fired hurry to get to their own funeral,” Bolesław said.

  “There are more ships coming back than went out,” Blue said.

  To Vicky’s surprise, Vice Admiral von Mittleburg muttered a word she would not have expected to hear above the mess deck. Every eye was on Commander Blue.

  “Trailing the returning liberty party through the jumps are the Empress’s Attacker, Empress’s Striker, Pursuer, Beater, Ferocity, Shooter, Scourge, Annihilator, Conquest, Wolf, Lion, Sword, Mace, Lance, Javelin, Battleaxe, Dirk, Spear. Now we’re into cruisers. In the middle of them there’s a huge space liner, the Golden Empress. No number to that one.”

  “Could the bitch have come here herself?” Vicky asked, expecting no answer.

  “Maybe so,” Admiral Bolesław said. “How better to get the lead out of the Butcher’s britches?”

  “You might have a point,” Admiral von Mittleburg said. “Commander Blue, can you tell us the origin of the Golden Empress? She’s stolen most of her ships. Who’d she steal this one from?”

  “Excuse me, sir, do you want me to interrupt this report to get that?”

  “Hang the cruisers,” Admiral Bolesław said, “Let’s see what she’s gallivanting around the spaceways in.”

  “Yes, sir. Break, break. Chief, can you make out the origin of the Golden Empress?”

  “Got it, now get back to the hull count. Are there any more transports?” Blue asked, then turned to Admiral von Mittleburg. “Sir, it is difficult to determine what the Golden Empress began life as. We have the Spaceway’s Spirit in our database. She’s supposed to be the largest passenger liner at one hundred fifty thousand tons, half again as big as a battleship. The problem is, the Golden Empress is at least half again as big as the Spirit and has more reactors and rocket motors.”

  “Computer, are you aware of any larger ship being built by the Spaceway passenger line?” Vicky asked.

  “There are no reports of the Spaceway line’s building a larger ship. However, the Green Flag line laid down a ship to take away the pennant for the largest, most luxurious liner from Spaceway. When last any press release or media report was made on the ship, all work had stopped on it due to the economic downturn. Still, the size and number of reactors Commander Blue described would fit the potential Green Flag Majestic.”

  “So the Empress snapped it up for a song and made it her yacht,” Vicky concluded.

  “A bit different from yours,” Admiral Bolesław said.

  Vicky grinned through a lot of teeth. “I like my ride a whole lot more than hers.”

  “No doubt your ride will more likely be in the thick of a battle,” Vice Admiral von Mittleburg observed dryly. “What is she doing here?”

  “I have no doubt that she’s come here to see that everything is done to her expectations,” Vicky said. “The Butcher hasn’t been moving fast enough to please her. Worse, too many ship captains have been figuring out a way to surrender to me and mine. She intends to make sure she has them under her eyes when they fight next.”

  “But her eyes will be well to the rear,” Admiral Bolesław pointed out.

  “No doubt, she’s sure she can throw crockery from there to wherever they are standing.”

  “So she stomps her foot, and men risk their lives beyond all reason,” Admiral von Mittleburg observed.

  “My dad does,” Vicky pointed out.

  “One must not extrapolate extraneous conclusions beyond the limits of their application,” Admiral Bolesław said.

  “No doubt.”

  “Well, Your Grace, gentlemen, no doubt we have a battle to prepare for.”

  “No doubt,” Vicky agreed.

  The men in the room grew stern and firm as, one by one, they laid out just what they would do to assure that Vicky didn’t throw any crockery at them.

  “My stepmother does that. I don’t,” Vicky said. But after the third denial she gave up and, with a grin, started keeping a teacup close at hand.

  The men around her were tense, but they never failed to enjoy the joke when she threatened them with a teacup.

  CHAPTER 52

  IF Vicky had considered the pace at the shipyard and the fabs frenzied before, she was amazed at the level of effort they set themselves to now.

  Ships that had any discrepancies were pulled into one of the repair slips and given a quick going-over. And it was quick. No ship went into a slip before its list of discrepancies had been shipped down to St. Petersburg and the fabs had generated exactly what it needed, then shipped them back up to the station. The yard hands, now aided by any rigger with some sort of experience in space, would have the ship in and out within two shifts, three at the most. Another battleship, cruiser, or destroyer would be drifting in space just short of the slip, waiting for the buffed-up ship to slide away so that it could slip in and start its own high-speed refit.

  The record between one ship’s undocking and another ship’s taking its place was six minutes.

  Vicky was glad they’d managed to hold on to the Anaconda and the Crocodile. Their LCTs hardly took a break. If they weren’t dropping down to the planet, they were climbing up to the station. Some of the heavy equipment for the ships in dock maxed out the landing craft. Other boats were topped off with missiles for the rocket boats. If there was any spare weight left over, they pumped in water to heavy up the reaction mass. No matter the load, all were lifting back up to orbit within the hour. Some less.

  Everyone, Sailor, Marine, civilian, did whatever they could to prepare the fleet for battle.

  Unfortunately for Vicky, the need to ship critically needed gear up to the station meant that there was no weight left over for other essentials, like Mannie, to make a visit in person.

  He spent a lot of time on the commlink, though. Problem was, Vicky could find no excuse to be added to his calls when he talked to the yard superintendent or Vice Admiral von Mittleburg. She had to satisfy herself with a few stolen minutes late in the evening when both of them were exhausted from the day.

  “This being a good girl is the pits,” she muttered to herself after one all-too-short and very frustrating call.

  “Can I help you?” Kit asked.

  “Sorry, Kit, you’re not the man I’m looking for,” Vicky said, and settled for a cold shower.

  Next morning, Commander Blue reported that all the Empress’s ships were in orbit around the gas giant, and destroyers were dropping down to skim the huge planet’s atmosphere for more reaction mass.

  “No doubt they’ll top off their tanks before they head for us,” Admiral Bolesław said.

  Once again, Commander Blue found himself interrupting his briefing to listen to a hot report.

  “Two merchant cruisers have just detached themselves from the res
t of the fleet and are headed for the jump.”

  “How big are they?” Admiral von Mittleburg asked.

  “They’ve got 6-inch and 4-inch lasers with 18-inch pulse lasers,” came back quickly.

  “The Halum and the Ferwert ought to be able to take them,” Admiral Bolesław said. “Their 24-inch pulse lasers should pick them off as they come through the jump.”

  “Tell me again why our fleet isn’t out there ready to pick them off as they come through?” Vicky asked.

  “There is no yard out there, Your Grace. Our ships have benefited mightily from the time we’ve been here.”

  Vicky nodded, now remembering why they had made the choice to fight it out close to St. Petersburg rather than attempt the first-ever meeting engagement at a jump. Oh, and there is always the chance that the jump will do a jump itself and her fleet could be left guarding an empty bit of space while the Empress’s fleet charged into the system somewhere else.

  She wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Vice Admiral von Mittleburg laid in a fleet exercise for the next day, just a quick duck around the moon and back, but it would get the fleet some practice operating in his proposed battle formation. There would also be a practice shoot. Hopefully, it would show how well the changes made to tighten up the gun cradles had tightened up the salvos. Vice Admiral von Mittleburg would command the first task force. Rear Admiral Bolesław would lead the second. Bolesław would have Retribution, with its 18-inch guns. In addition, he’d have the Ravager’s and the Trouncer’s 18-inch guns, Scourge, Sachsen, and Baden with 16-inchers, and the 15-inch battlecruiser Stalker. Von Mittleburg’s Task Force 1 would have the 18-inch guns of BatRon 22’s Implacable, Adamant, Merciless, and Hunter as well as the Vigilant’s and Relentless’s 16-inchers. He would also have the other battlecruiser, the Slinger. If the Krasnoyarsk and Karelia got out of the yard in time, they would join Bolesław’s battle line, adding more to Vicky’s protection.

  The twelve heavy cruisers and eight lights, along with twenty merchant cruisers, thirty-one destroyers, and twenty-eight rocket boats would also be divided evenly between the two squadrons.

  “My intention is to have the battleships form a line with the cruisers and destroyers above and below them, closer to the enemy, so that the cruisers can defend us against their destroyer attacks. Our destroyers will be in position to take advantage of an opening to charge in and hit them with their pulse lasers and missiles. The rocket boats will form up in two columns, one high and one low on the unengaged side of each battle line. We’ll order them forward when we intend to salvo torpedoes at the Empress’s battle line. Any questions?”

  There were none. With the exception of the deployment of the rocket boats, this was the standard battle formation for a fleet of this size, one that the Greenfeld Navy had used for a hundred years or more.

  The sortie notice was dispatched to the fleet, and the officers left to prepare for what, no doubt, would be a fun and challenging day. Vicky waited until only Admirals von Mittleburg and Bolesław were still in the room.

  “Do I need to move off Retribution?”

  “Are you willing to raise your flag on the station?” Admiral von Mittleburg shot back.

  “No,” Vicky said flatly.

  “No surprise,” Admiral Bolesław said.

  “Then I assume you will stay safely on Retribution,” von Mittleburg said. “It is our largest warship.”

  “Admiral Bolesław?” Vicky asked.

  “I will be staying on it as well,” he answered.

  “I have the admiral’s quarters. You have the captain’s quarters, still.”

  “And I will still have them,” Admiral Bolesław said. “Willi Neumann can stay in the quarters he had as XO. They are more palatial than most captains have on a battleship. Retribution was intended for both a flag and something political when it was designed.”

  Vicky nodded. “Then it is settled.”

  “Yes,” Admiral von Mittleburg said.

  Vicky was likely the only tourist as every man jack on the station turned to, intent on their ship showing its best colors in the morning.

  CHAPTER 53

  THE sortie could be called a success. All the ships got away from their piers on time. Mostly. No ship bumped another. Barely. There were no explosions aboard any ship, and all of them made it back to their assigned piers. Fortunately, the number of ships that had to be directed straight to space dock did not exceed the two available.

  The number of ships wanting one of the repair slips was another question. Admiral von Mittleburg called a meeting to discuss the general status of the fleet. The skippers of all the battleships, cruisers, and destroyers were invited, along with the division commanders of the merchant cruisers and rocket boats.

  It could have been a zoo.

  Vicky might have been the only one who was keeping her eyes on the clock. She was not surprised when Commander Blue walked up and interrupted Admiral von Mittleburg by whispering something into his ear.

  “Well, damn it, son. Put what you have on the screens.”

  Clearly, Admiral von Mittleburg was feeling the stress of his situation.

  A picture of the jump appeared from a camera mounted on the Halum, according to the date stamp.

  “The Halum kept a probe on the far side of the jump until the Empress’s merchant cruisers came within 6-inch range, then it withdrew.”

  “Don’t we have more than one probe?” Admiral Bolesław interrupted.

  “Yes, Admiral, we have four. Two that are on station on either side of the jump and two that are rotating with them after a refueling and maintenance period on the Halum.”

  “Logical,” Admiral von Mittleburg observed. “Continue, Commander.”

  “The Halum pulled the probe back because we don’t know that they’ve spotted the pixies, and we didn’t want them to. Anyway, as you can see here, two hours later, a longboat came through the jump. It was annihilated.”

  On screen, something that looked like a liberty launch that had sprouted a small grove of antennas appeared and just as quickly disappeared, with little wreckage to show it had ever existed.

  “Jumping ahead fifteen minutes,” the commander said, and a second longboat appeared to vanish quite quickly.

  “And five minutes later,” a third appeared and disappeared.

  “Not having learned anything,” the commander quipped, and the screen showed three launches appear ten seconds apart and just as quickly be blown apart.

  “But they learn.”

  Not ten seconds after the last launch, an armed merchant cruiser appeared at the jump. It needed time to acquire a target, get a firing solution, train its lasers out, and take the target under fire.

  Both of Vicky’s cruisers knew exactly where the jump was and where any ship that came through it would be. While the Empress’s cruiser paused to acquire the situation, 24-inch pulse lasers slammed into it, tore its guts out, and left the hull rolling drunkenly in space.

  The next cruiser came through five seconds later.

  It rammed right into the wreckage of its leader.

  Then it got lucky.

  The wreckage of the first cruiser masked the second one. The helmsman of the second also did a bit of a dance, yawing first right, then left, wrecking the light cruisers’ firing solutions by dodging into, but then away from, a clear line of sight and field of fire.

  Then the Empress’s ship fired its own pulse lasers.

  The Ferwert took three direct hits; more hits than a light cruiser’s thin armor could handle. The Ferwert came apart at the exact same moment the Halum got a good firing solution on the enemy merchant cruiser and took it apart with four pulse-laser hits as well as a broadside of 6- and 5-inch lasers.

  The Empress’s ship got off a few more shots from its 6-inch guns, but the next salvo from the Halum put an end to that noise.

  Where once four proud warships had sailed, now stood only one slowly moving amid the wreckage, retrieving survival pods.


  “So, they came, they didn’t see anything, and they won’t be making any claims to be conquerors,” Admiral Bolesław said dryly.

  “It seems that way,” Admiral von Mittleburg said. “Commander, has the Halum reported anything from the far side of the jump?”

  “My chief reports that they will deploy a pixie through the jump as soon as they have collected as many survivors from the Ferwert as possible.”

  Vicky was ready to jump down the skipper’s throat, but she kept her mouth shut long enough to think the situation through. She remembered that the Empress’s merchant cruisers had been forty thousand klicks away from her light cruisers. Halum would need to pick up all the survivors it could find there before closing on the jump, where they might retrieve the Empress’s survivors as well as send a pixie through the jump.

  Both of the other admirals seemed to know intuitively what took a long minute for her to figure out, but the pall of death hanging over the room for that minute delayed them from going on and Vicky from going off.

  I’ve got a lot to learn.

  “The Halum did not report that the rest of the Empress’s forces were moving out, did she?” Admiral Bolesław asked.

  “Her destroyers were still sucking up reaction mass, sir, when we got our last look. I think it’s safe to say that the Halum will have a pixie on the other side well before they can distribute their reaction mass, re-form their destroyer squadrons, and break orbit.”

  “Good. Walter, do you still think your division is the best in the fleet?”

  He commanded the newest destroyer division.

  “Yes sir,” the captain said, jumping to his feet.

  “Order two of them, not your flag though, out to relieve Halum. She’ll need to come back. With all the survivors, they’re likely to be taking turns breathing in and out.”

  “Sir,” Captain Walter Oseau said, and departed the room, already speaking into his commlink.