by Chris Hechtl
“Damn,” the captain replied softly.
“So, we definitely need to keep a lock on this place. We can't risk its safety,” Admiral Oh stated with a look to Jan.”
“My thoughts exactly. We've got long logistic lines to Sol. With Pyrax in our corner, they just got a whole lot shorter.”
“Don't forget Antigua. I'm sure once they get their feet under them again they'll come out swinging,” Willard replied.
“We'll see,” Jan said as she looked to Paul, Sharif, and the others. “Okay, so, we're going to let the logistics people off the leash. Captain Cooley? I sent Democritus to scout Janus.” That earned a small gasp of surprise from some of the civilians. She smiled briefly. “I'm going to send you to relieve them shortly.”
“With respect, ma'am, it's dangerous to let them know which direction I'm coming from,” Captain Cooley warned. “When we scouted them before, I came in from a random vector,” he warned.
“Well, this time I've got something else in mind. It won't threaten the safety of Pyrax, I promise,” she said with a look to Jack.
“Good,” Captain Cooley murmured.
“Now, what else can we get into while we're all here?” Jan asked with a look to Willard.
“Well, we've gotten a good basic understanding of a few things; I suppose Lieutenant Ing can work on the legalities of our people on liberty with Sheriff Tupper. So …”
Chapter 30
Sailors and Marines streamed out of the space port in small groups as shuttles landed them to spend some time on liberty on the planet. Each was in uniform and had only a twenty-four-hour pass. Some of the tourists were impressed by the rebuilding efforts but not so impressed by the lack of bars or that the colonists didn't fawn over them as liberators.
A few of the noncoms knew why. The planet had been settled by Lagroose Industries retired personnel as well as retired Marines. They had successfully fought back without any help of the military and were unsure of the Navy. But some of the younger sailors and Marines didn't know or care.
O'Rooke's bar and grill became the first stop within hours of the first shuttle load getting to the planet. Patty O'Rooke had started the place back up to feed the construction workers. She'd started in a tent but had quickly negotiated work from some of the construction guys to build her a bar to pay off their tabs. She was a small, heavily freckled red-headed Irish gal with a temper to match her volcanic hair. She initially welcomed the new business. She knew the soldiers and sailors were going to run a tab and that Jack would make good on it later.
But some things she didn't tolerate. She was across the room when a pair of half-drunken Marines got into it over some tiff that she could care less about. When one Neochimp knocked a waitress into a Neobear and the bear took umbrage, she wisely called for backup before reaching for her shotgun.
Sheriff Tupper had known O'Rooke’s would be a hot spot so he'd stationed a couple of deputies nearby. They were down the street, still in sight to be a deterrent, but not there to put too much of a damper on the festivities. Max had decided to step up to fill a shift to help out. He was mainly there to lend his support though.
The Neodog bounded under the swinging doors and into the room just as the bear threw a chair across the room to smash into the wall in a shower of debris and splinters. Max barked once and then stood up on his hind legs.
“What mutt? You want a piece of me?” the corporal snarled.
Max studied his opponent as the bear waded toward him. He was aged. He moved slowly and his muzzle was white but he still had a few things going for him. When the bear took a swing, he dropped back to all fours and then ducked under the bear's legs. He lashed out with a kick in the ass as he got past the hurdle and back out into the open.
The bear wasn't hurt, just startled. But it did make the watching audience laugh. Patty put her shotgun up to port arms and watched the show.
“You think this is funny?” the bear snarled, turning on the dog. He took another swipe but Max was under it. He tried to crush the dog but failed. When he tried a body slam, Max jumped back. He misjudged his spacial coordinates and hit a column with bruising force but didn't let it faze him. Instead, he rebounded off of it and then nipped the bear, and then when the bear roared in pain, he moved in fast and hard. One hand paw reached out and grabbed the bear by the balls. The other blocked the bear's moving arm. But it was his gaping jaws around the bear's throat that made the bear stop dead still.
The tableau in the bar lasted a full minute before the bear's eyes swung around the room, looking for help. “Um …?”
Patty shook her head as she looked on to Jeffrey, her bartender. Jeffrey put a shot glass out and poured a stiff one. She turned back to Max. “Max, you're a sight for sore eyes. Jeff has you set up at the bar. You wanna get a room with your dance partner or knock a few back for old time's sake?” she asked, lips quivering in a suppressed smile. The dog taking down the bear would be one hell of a story for the night.
A Neogorilla deputy put the bear in an arm bar. That was the signal for the dog to let go. He shook off his hand and then wiped it on the bear before he turned to Patty and cocked her head.
“Come on, Max, you saved the world back in the A.I. War; I'll buy you a drink,” Patty said.
All eyes turned to Max.
“It's him,” the Neochimp who'd stumbled into the waitress said, staring at Max. “Is it really him?” he asked dumbly.
“Yeah, it's him. Max, the one and only. One of the few to survive going in against Ares. In fact I think he was the only one of his team to get out,” another Marine, this one a Neocat murmured.
The Marines began to buzz with chatter. Max shook his head as he bellied up to the bar and picked up the shot glass. He knocked it back and then slammed it back down. The room erupted into cheers as the bear shook his head.
Max wiped at his mouth and then waved to the Neogorilla. “You sure?” the gorilla asked.
Max cocked his head to Patty.
She sighed and then held up a finger. “He pays for the chair and any other damages,” she said. Max nodded.
“Okay, mate, this is your lucky day,” the gorilla said as he released the bear. The bear looked at him as he rubbed his wrists. The deputy put his cuffs away. “Max talked Patty into dropping the charges,” he said, indicating the bar.
“Um, thanks,” the bear said sheepishly.
“We're all soldiers here,” Patty said. That made the room go silent again. She turned and pulled her sleeve up to show them a tattoo. “One-Ten. I got in late, but I had my share too,” she said as Jeffrey poured the bear a round.
“Thanks. You are all right,” the bear mumbled as he patted Max awkwardly. “But next time, I'd like a little more foreplay,” he quipped, finally getting some of his own back.
Patty threw her head back and laughed. The audience roared as well.
Max shook his head. It was good to be with other Neos, but he felt a bit awkward about the awe coming from them, especially the Neo marines who had realized who he was. He had a feeling that he was going to be offered a lot of drinks in the near future.
That was fine, as long as they behaved themselves.
(@)()(@)
Three days after the fleet's arrival in orbit saw the departure of Magellan. “Good luck and safe sailing,” Jack said in his final address to Captain Cooley.
“We seem to be doing that a lot, but we always return back here. We'll do our best, but safe just isn't in the cards on this mission.”
“Just come back safe,” Jack replied with a nod. “As you said, you keep coming back here. We've gotten used to having you around,” he said with a wan smile.
“Will do,” Captain Cooley replied with a brief smile of his own before he cut the channel.
(@)()(@)
Captain Beaudry worked with Jeeves, Paul Aguilera, and Sharif Rolfe on fleet logistics. He was intensely grateful to have the shipyard on hand. It was more along the lines of a repair yard, but beggars couldn't be choosers. With Artifex,
Chabahan, and Cadmus attached to the yard module, they could each feed the yard parts from their stores or machine shops to help repair the ships that had minor but a growing list of ailments that needed seeing to. One of the destroyers, Tristan, still had some damage issues from the battle of B-92C to put to rest.
While the ship crews worked on that, he worked with Paul on the most critical areas of resupply. Apparently, the civilians had anticipated the request for fresh food and water and had shipped up what they had available, so it was just a matter of a ship making port at the space station and taking on new stores. Fuel was more limited and a thornier problem since they didn't have as big a stockpile as anyone would like. With the fleet on hand, the ability to stockpile fuel got that much harder.
But, it was something they were going to have to contend with he knew. He had anticipated the admiral's desire for more ammunition the moment they got into the star system; he'd had the designs loaded in his database and had studied them intently on the last leg of their journey. One of the first things that he had started was a discussion on setting up a missile production line. Having one in their backyard was critical so they focused on that initially. The missile production line that the civilians had running was a good start, but it needed a complete retooling to produce the designs the navy had in deployment. He was gratified to see some parts could translate over easily enough. The missile body, shell, structure, some small parts, those only took a few hours to retool the production facilities and get started in production. The sticking points were the warheads, power plants, and primary drives. The biggest bottleneck was going to be the force emitters he knew. They were a major headache to build—though the damn Taurens had made it happen in the field in an empty damn star system with only a couple of factory ships to make the parts … or did they draw on existing stores? He scratched at his chin thoughtfully as he considered the problem from a logistics standpoint.
If he set those three problems aside, then the next problems in line were the electronics, penetration aides, communications, and sensors.
His fingertip stilled and then began to tap his lower lip as he considered each problem in turn. The electronics they could more or less deal with. Not a lot had changed in the thirty years after the A.I. war in electronics manufacturing. In fact, Eden had some better electronics compared to some of the stuff being produced in Sol at the moment. As long as the civilian hardware had the same performance and size, he didn't see any issues. They might have to fudge a few things to get them to line up, but as long as it worked, then it was fine in his book. That extended to the communications as well. The sensors and pen aides were a different matter.
The sensors were new construction, a design worked out in Sol. They were more compact than the civilian designs that were in the civilian system defense missiles that Paul had sent to him for comparison purposes. Paul and Sharif's engineers had worked the design to use as much off the shelf components as possible. That wasn't going to fly with the navy since they needed the best sensors possible.
Then there was the other problem, the system defense missiles had no pen aides at all. He frowned as he considered how to go about solving the problem. Obviously, a retrofit of the system defense missiles were out. They could eventually retire them … he shook himself. Not really the issue of the moment he reminded himself. They needed to look at missiles to supply the fleet … he frowned as he pulled up the parts list. “Okay, electronics is easy …” he tapped his mouse, highlighted the electronics list, and then forwarded them to Paul's people. A warning came up about sharing classified material with civilians. He clicked okay and then sent the email off. “Now … what to do about the rest of you …? If I sic Cadmus on the pen aides, I suppose Artifex can make the sensors, and Chabahan can make some of the parts for the missile drives, but that still leaves the other problem children …,” he scowled. “Unless we do production runs?” he cocked his head as he thought about the problem. With material supplied by the civilians, it might work. One ship on pen aides and sensors actually and the other two producing the parts for force emitters, power plants, and missile drives that the civilians couldn't make? Production would be low. They'd have to retool and getting supplies would be a fun logistics puzzle … and the ships would be more or less tied in port. But, if they were going to be there for a month or so anyway … he pulled up an email and began to sketch out the outline of his plan to the admiral for her approval.
(@)()(@)
Jan shook her head as she read the reports. Things were going well on the planet. The Marines and sailors were having a go at things, but the shore patrol and deputies had things well in hand and were keeping a damper on the mayhem and mischief they could get into. The only concern was the recent discovery of the prisoner compound. A few of the off-duty personnel had turned up there to jeer at the Taurens until the guards had chased them off.
Still, if that was the only big problem, things were certainly running smoother than she anticipated. Not that she was complaining, she reminded herself hastily. She shook her head as she pursed her lips and put her cup down on a coaster.
She considered planning her next series of moves carefully. It was odd being out there, handling the strategic planning without Walter looking over her shoulder. She was more of a tactician, able to execute mission plans easily enough. Long term though, she felt like she was operating without a net.
Still, some decisions came easily enough for her to deal with. She approved of Captain Beaudry's plan, though she didn't like the idea of tying up both of her repair vessels. It wouldn't be forever; they had too many other uses. But, if they could get a jump on the missile parts, stockpile things while the civilians worked on making the facilities and equipment to do it for them, that was fine.
She'd deal with JAG and any hissy fits they threw about sharing classified intel with civilians later. She knew Lieutenant Ing wasn't happy, but she was a team player and notionally onboard. She'd lodged protests in writing, but that was as far as she was willing to rock the boat.
Smart girl, Jan thought.
She had to continually fight the temptation to take her fleet to hit the Tauren home worlds as some in the fleet and on the planet demanded. They had the captured navigational data; they could bypass Janus and go for quick kill. Get in there, wreak havoc, maybe even force a surrender. She doubted it would be easy, not when the enemy was fighting to protect their homes and species.
It would cut Janus off, but she didn't like leaving Janus in her rear either. She also didn't know what was waiting for her in the home worlds of the Taurens … and didn't have the logistics to support a long campaign if it turned into a slugging match.
And finally, the jump to the neighboring sector took time. A long time, months in hyperspace, time that Pyrax and the other colonies would be unprotected.
No, she had to be methodical. Keep the aliens on the defense, push them out of Janus, and then send the scouts in ahead to gather the intel she needed. Only when she was ready would she push to the jump point to their own sector. Step by step she intended to run them out of the area in a forced retreat. That would unfortunately shorten their logistics lines and options, make them more defensive and more willing to fight to the death, but so be it.
She knew eventually Sol would keep sending her reinforcements.
While they did that, Eden would begin supplying her with their own parts and missiles, hopefully soon. Once she had a good stockpile, she intended to launch her offensive.
It would be nice to send some of those system defense missile pods and rail gun platforms to the other colonies she mused. What about mines? No, she shook her head. Kirby had a point about mines. They would detract from producing missile warheads and weren't that effective. Space was vast; they'd need millions, potentially billions to pen in a solar system. Dropping them at a jump point would be a nasty gift for the Taurens, but it may or may not work. It was the sort of tactic that would most likely work once she thought.
No, it was best to f
ocus on weapons that would help them in the long run she thought.
(@)()(@)
Captain Kirby Beaudry nodded to Captain Yeo Kun Lin as he stepped into the engineering space on the Tauren dispatch ship. He looked around him, eyes seeing some familiar things along with the alien. “So, I heard you've been busy. I read the report, now that I've got a little bit of free time I thought I'd see for myself,” he said with a nod to the captain.
“Feel free,” the squat Asian male said. He was a retired Lagroose Industries sublight skipper who'd taken on the dispatch ship's captain's chair out of a sense of duty. It was better than sitting around in a rocking chair playing Go at any rate.
“I see …,” Kirby frowned as his eyes traced the lines for power. “You've been swapping out components?”
“As we go. We've rebuilt half of the power train so far. The biggest changes are in the thermal exchangers. With Terran exchangers instead of the Tauren clunkers, we've increased efficiency by 19 percent. It's also let us pull a few dozen more G's out of this bird. In theory at any rate,” the captain replied with a shrug.
“Nineteen, huh?” Kirby replied, eyes roving the lines. They'd made some splicing to get into the Tauren thermal exchange system, and there was an interface there, a series of coils that allowed the heat transfer to go from the Tauren system to the heat exchangers instead of the external radiators. The ship still had radiators for when the thermal exchangers couldn't keep up with output, but they were a tenth of the size on the exterior hull. They looked like rows of heat sink fins sticking out from the hull instead of the long trailing fins that the Taurens had used. “I bet you are just aching to give this bird a go,” he teased, shooting the other skipper a look and gleam.