Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked

by Michael Chatfield

  Boot’s tactical reported that everything was good by giving a green up. He was a Slevaran, one of the few in the Fleet. He had been rescued from the Slave pens on Parnmal. He didn't talk much, but he knew how to work his guns to hit the Syndicate with everything he had. Comms was run by a pissed off looking Sarenmenti named Tolor. When not in the middle of battle he talked as if he was a computer. In battle he was brilliant at conveying information.

  “Tolor, message for the Fleet,” Boot said.

  “On,” Tolor grunted.

  “We are now moving out to the jump point to rally with the Free Fleet and engage the Captain Lord Foshunti, We will take every opportunity to speed up our journey. The route will be sent to you momentarily. Captains and Commanders meeting in one hour,” Boot said. A look to Tolor stopped the recording.

  “Sent,” Tolor said a few minutes later. Boot fidgeted in his seat. Somehow his chair didn't feel the same. It was probably the fact that so many lives now rested on his shoulders.

  He checked the route again. They would be travelling through two unknown systems to speed up their transit to DU122349. These two systems made up the last parts of the Sol-Parnmal sector. They were the only way into Free Fleet controlled space other than Parnmal. Boot would be deploying a series of spy satellites and message pods. They were a crude way of sending messages from system to system, but they would provide an early warning system if the Syndicate decided to use the backdoor into Free Fleet space.

  Boot looked at his plot, noticing the three factory ships and a squadron identical to the one he had commanded, one Battle Cruiser and two Corvette's, slipping away to the jump point. Min Hae had sent orders that another base was to be made, one that was away from prying eyes. One that would hold out for the Free Fleet.

  If the Free Fleet fell they would provide a place for a Fleet to grow. Boot had personally seen to the preparations. He even had orders for Whorst, if Chaleel fell. All trainees were to be sent to the holdout station and anywhere else that could be reached. Hopefully it wouldn't be needed.

  Boot looked over his command console. He was linked to every ship in the fleet, as well as the sensor buoys littered throughout the system. He began removing the data of the ships being in the system, then of them ever existing. The miniature fleet disappeared from the map as Boot checked on his own fleet, making sure they were all in position as they powered to the jump limit.

  Chapter - Hard Decisions

  Cheerleader read the reports from Rick's fleet. Salchar was flat out refusing to resume command. It seemed that he was really broken. Cheerleader couldn't blame him after the reports from Shreesht and Krom on their treatment. It was clear that even his bodyguards were having a hard time dealing with how powerless they had been.

  She had Corvette's out in every system that could jump to her location, at least she would have some warning if Foshunti decided to ambush them. Bregend had joined his forces to Cheerleader's. He had debated going to search for Min Hae to see if he needed help, but it could've been a wild goose chase. There was a battle here and Bregend's ships were needed. Even the little shifty Cruisers which had somehow avoided Silly dismantling them.

  The FTL relay was up and running from her location all the way back to Earth and Commander Boot had highlighted his plan to use the dead systems to speed up his arrival time. He was also going to plant message pods and spy satellites all over the area to make an early warning relay in the dead systems. He wasn’t going to wait for his generators to recharge. Instead he was going to use his capacitors whenever they were charged and it was possible for his fleet. It would put one hell of a strain on the ship and the crew, but it would get them to the Fleet in a little less than a week, instead of at least two weeks.

  Cheerleader was proud of every single person under her command. There was none of the panicking that had taken hold of them in the early battles. Now they knew what was going to happen and they were focused. The newly minted Free Fleet Personnel were being taken under the wings of the veterans and pushed through the whole process. She also knew that that calm would be disrupted if they knew that Salchar wasn't going to be commanding the Fleet. They would adapt, but it would mess with the people that hadn't been in battle.

  She had talked to Monk, and he had the same concerns as she did. Salchar needed time to come to terms with what had happened to him. Though they both knew that he wasn't going to get the time he needed. She stood, stretching. In a few hours Resilient would be in shuttle and she would be able to see how Salchar was.

  ***

  I looked around my room. There was nothing here for me. I don't know why they were still keeping me in this room, instead of putting me in some basic quarters and leaving me there as they waged their useless battle. I was done with it, done with the death, the misery, the feeling of being powerless as people did what they wanted to do for reasons that barely made sense.

  The Free Fleet made sense, yes. But in this universe there was no way that it could succeed. Everyone was against it, even the people that we were trying to save. Marhtu had educated me on one thing, aside from the pain a KaaOrv could bring to a person. He had shown me the true side of the people that had been stepped on and discarded by Lady Fairgate and her Syndicate. The logical thing was to run, run and find somewhere that we could exist away from all of this mess. Yet I knew that cancer like this could only spread. There was no getting away from it unless you were dead.

  My door opened, and I smelt Cheerleader's scent. I looked up, a smile on my face as I saw her own sceptical and annoyed one. Here it comes, I mentally sighed as I slumped. Yet another person who thought they were ready to take responsibility for the Fleet and lead them. I had never wanted responsibility for it all. I just wanted to set my friends free, and somehow it had become a true military.

  I had used people to sound as if I knew what the hell I was doing. My ideas were basic, mostly child-like and stupid. Thousands of people had died. The worst were the ones that I barely knew. I saw their names, their pictures, read about their lives and found myself wishing I had known them, to have said thanks, to have shaken their hand, or shared a joke.

  “How are you feeling?” Cheerleader asked.

  “Making small talk has never been your strong point,” I said, sipping from a bulb of water.

  “Alright, are you done moping about? Because we're going to need you for this fight, or people are going to die,”

  “People are going to die anyway,” I spat as I saw something change in her face, an anger that I hadn't seen directed towards me ever.

  “You best be careful what you say,” she grated, her voice cold.

  I shook my head. I had lost one of the people that I considered to be my family. I looked to my hands and I wanted to cry. Why was this all happening to me? I thought, on the brink of tears.

  “Oh, no you don't James Wilson Cook!” she barked, striding over as she picked me up by my collar. I struggled as she pulled me off the bed.

  I stood, facing her. Resolve filled her eyes.

  “This is the Free Fleet. We are not crewed by weak willed useless sacks of creature. Stand up!” she barked as I did so automatically. She turned her finger that had been jabbing at the floor towards my chest, poking me as she talked.

  “You are James Wilson Cook. Your handle is Salchar and you’re Commander of this damn Fleet. No one will ever take that from you but yourself. You brought these people from slavery. People have died for the ideals that you hold. Each and every one of them would come back from the light and slap you if they could see you. You will not dishonour that uniform that you wear! I will not see you being a prissy little shit that wants to opt out because you just realized it's going to be harder than you thought.

  “Tough shit!” she yelled. “This is the Free Fleet we live in the realm of curveballs and Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition Situations! You will pull your damn self together and you will give this fleet what they need. Salchar, the Commander of the Free Fleet, and the man that dared to poke Lady Fair
gate in the eye. The man that will lead this Fleet into what could be its last battle once again.”

  She poked me again as she stepped backwards.

  “All of these people are here because of you. When you asked them to follow you into the hells of Parnmal, Earth, Chaleel they did so. When their friends and people they barely knew were taken on Daestramus they took the entire planet on. So what if the odds are stacked against us? What does it fucking matter? We have one another, we have this fleet. That's all that matters. We might die, but the hope we have given people will continue on. As the Union's light shines in us, the Free Fleet will shine in those that dare to stand up for themselves, for their fellow man.”

  She took a breath, her eyes fiery.

  “I know you James, better than you know yourself it seems. You are not someone that can leave this fleet. You ARE this fleet. You live for the people in this fleet, you live for every one of them. From the lowliest wrench turner to a gun toting Avarian Commando. You care nothing for race, gender, or creed. You care for the people. You're a fighter, not a person that's going to sit and mope in the med-bay.ot when you could be out there, and proving to people tat your people didn’t die for nothing.”

  She let out a breath, collapsing onto a bunk.

  I wanted to yell back, to say that someone else should take over. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

  “Yes, people are going to die in this battle, a lot of them,” Cheerleader said into the floor, gradually looking up at me. I looked at her eyes, seeing the pleading in them. “You could make it so that their deaths count for something.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes and she reared up and marched out of the door. I wanted to comfort her, to hug her but she was gone before I could do any of that. I sat on my bed.

  Why did everyone think that I would bring a better outcome to all of this?

  ***

  Rick checked his feeds. Commander Boot and his force were supposed to be arriving in a few days. Cheerleader and Bregend's people were quickly integrated into the fleet as the time before Foshunti's deadline dwindled. They would in the system the day of the fight. Commander Boot and his people better be on the ball because his fleet would have a matter of hours to get used to Rick and his fleet before they transited together to DU122349.

  Cheerleader had agreed that Rick should take over the Fleet. Even if James came out of his slump Rick was going to stay in command in the battle. Rick held the right to deny James taking over at any time. It had been one hell of a decision to make, but it needed to be made.

  “In Sook, I'm going to visit Eddie,”

  “Good luck,” she said as he departed.

  He found Eddie the way everyone found Eddie, by putting the fear of boot into people. Crossing the hangar deck he shook his head as he heard the Chief Engineer’s voice.

  “Jones, this armour panel is off by ten centimetres,”

  “It's not covering or touching anything important,” The Engineer said as Rick winced.

  “Not covering anything important! It's covering our damned asses, the lives of everyone in this freaking ship! If it's off by ten centimetres and we put another armour panel on then it's going to be off ten centimetres, and the next and the next, until we can't move out cannons and our missiles are blowing up before they leave their tubes! What do you think this is? A syndicate ship!?” Eddied thundered.

  “I'll go and fix it right now!”

  “You best, and check every damn panel that's out there,”

  “Bu..,” Rick turned the corner as she saw Jones duck as a boot sailed at his midsection. His legs spun as the boot returned to Eddie's hand.

  “That's what I thought!” Eddie said to the fleeing engineer.

  “COS,” Eddie nodded to Rick, nothing escaped the Chief Engineer's watchful eye. “How are we doing on the repairs?”

  “We're behind schedule, but she'll be ready.” Eddie tapped a bulkhead,

  “Good to hear. I heard that there was issues with the shield generators?” Rick asked.

  “Yeah, you got them shot. Though we got them all repaired. Next time we're in Sol we're putting the old girl in for a full rotation of maintenance,” Eddie said, levelling an annoyed finger at, Rick.

  “Alright, alright. I agree, now that the Dreadnoughts and the Battle Carriers are coming out, as well as the new Battle Cruisers. Silly even thinks she can get a Super Carrier out in a few months.” If we're still alive, Rick thought.

  “They are beauties aren't they?” Eddie grinned.

  “Yeah, they're one hell of a ship,” Rick admitted.

  “When Resilient goes in I want to give her a double hull and that reactive armour. She's gonna be one hell of a sight!” Eddie's manipulators moved in excitement.

  “You flatterer,” Resilient said through overhead speakers.

  ***

  Commander Boot watched as the satellites and pods drifted away from his fleet. The forces in Parnmal and AIH had all jumped into the system. They could've met up with Boot and Salchar's fleet before they left for Foshunti's battle ground. Though this way at least this fleet was integrated with one another somewhat, making it two groups of a fleet, not three. The ships were a few million kilometers away and communications were still bad, but it would be quickly fixed. His capacitors were recharging from their heavy use and getting the once over from their engineering crews. It was one of the few planned stops, insofar as that they had to get to another point along the outside of a star system to get a jump point that lined up with their next system.

  He looked to the status of his ships, including the reports from the new ones. Floater and its sister Fruit Cup were doing well. Fruit Cup was nearly completed, Floater was behind, but the pace had picked up after so much time spent getting used to the ship. Her PDS systems and missiles were all online, but her cannons and shuttle bay were taking more time. The chief engineer had left practically all of it to the Commandos. Nearly all of them had training in the yards.

  Looks like that cross training came in, handy, Boot thought as he surveyed his new freighter-carrier conversion.

  ***

  “‘Sign up for the Commandos, shoot assholes in space,’ I thought it would be a great time!” Connolly bitched as George grinned beside him, a few other Commandos adding their agreement.

  “Feeling a bit more like an Engineer than a Commando right now?” George said as the grousing died down.

  “A little,” Connolly said as he checked his cuts on the armour for the shuttle bay. They had to be done in one go, otherwise they wouldn't line up. Also, temperatures came into the calculations, because he was using a laser cutter and he was in vacuum . Stay in one place too long and the armour shutter could warp.

  “Don't worry. We'll see some action sooner rather than later,” George grinned, tapping Connolly on the back.

  “Don't you try to sound like some kind of sage, young ‘un,” Connolly said.

  As George grinned, he flicked his arm, the prosthetic changed to a welder. He tacked the bracket for a view screen in place, another flick giving him his hand back.

  “I would never try that, just helping out the senior citizens,” George said.

  Connolly couldn't help but give the man a grin. George might only legally be fifteen years old, but he was a veteran Commando and Connolly would do whatever he ordered him to. It was still strange to some people, but the entire Free Fleet was strange. He finished his cut on the doors, wiping sweat from his face.

  “Alright, it's all yours,” Connolly said to the crews that were waiting to install the girders, supports, and runners that would open and close the shutters.

  He used his drones to get hold of his shutter sheet, moving it further into the shuttle-bay, bringing it down in a clear area. Drones scanned it, sorting out the finicky little details that would make sure that the shutters opened and closed smoothly, instead of jamming.

  Connolly sighed, rubbing his temples.

  “Finished, I'm guessing?” George asked.

  “Oh yeah,
I think I forgot to blink,” Connolly said, his eyes hurting as he held his eyelids closed, hoping to wet them.

  “Good. Now could you give me a hand with this viewscreen?” George said, holding it in place and indicating the bolts with his chin.

  “Slave driver,” Connolly grumbled as George smiled.

  “I'll grab you a beer after this,” he said as Connolly bolted the viewscreen to its bracket.

  “At least they got one thing right, stocking the damn bar,” Connolly grinned.

  Having a beer while underway was a rarity. Especially when they were expecting to come under contact. Salchar had put his foot down. If his people wanted booze, he would give them it. Only stills that were in the right area and met certain standards (mostly being that they didn't taste like battery acid) were still allowed to operate. Being obscenely drunk was looked down upon, but otherwise, one was free to drink as they desired. A quick detox would remove any chemical pollutants from their systems making them ready for duty in a few moments.

  “I still don't understand why people drink spirits,” George said.

  “Cause it gets you drunk faster. Plus, mixed it tastes pretty good,” Connolly said.

  “I'll have to try one of those mixed drinks,”

  “Come on— a fruity drink?” Connolly said.

  “Well, if it tastes better than beer piss, then yeah,” George said. The young man had a point.

  “But men drink beer and have shots,” Connolly said.

  “Well that's stupid. I want to drink something I like, rather than something disgusting,” George said as Connolly finished the bolts.

  “But beer is so relaxing,”

  “How?”

  “Well... It's cold, doesn't get you hammered, and..,”

  “Can taste like crap. American beer is like water. At least the Europeans have over five percent,” George said, collecting his tools, Connolly helping him.