Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (25 page)

One shuttle didn't make it, however, and a squad of marines, Captain Gustav, the flight crew of three, and a dozen mechs perished. It was a harsh blow to the command structure of the marines.

With the captain's death, First Lieutenant Tricia Ebensher was thrust into command.

It all happened in seconds just as the orbital bombardment started. Then a few apartment complexes went off, and the buildings imploded as an exclamation point.

“What were you saying about it being a pretty planet?” the General asked whimsically. “See? I can redecorate too,” she said.

“My God! There were people in there!” Jojo said in shock. Amadeus's lips twisted in a snarl. According to the lieutenant's fast estimate, she put the death toll above a thousand. A thousand lives snuffed out to make a point.

“Now you see just how determined we are,” the General said and then cut the connection.

“We've lost a shuttle, sir. And one shuttle has crashed.”

“Frack,” the admiral murmured. He turned to look at the AI's avatar expectantly.

“I didn't get a trace, Admiral, sorry. She bounced the signal around too many sources,” Marshall stated.

“Damn. You have to admit, she's good. A ruthless hardball bitch, but good. But we're better.”

“Yes, sir.”

---<>---<>---

The naval forces settled into the star system once they had cleaned up the fighters and had full control of the orbitals. While the ships got their damage control wrapped up and the transport started her work discharging the marines, one freighter was dispatched to the B-95a3 jump point to resupply
Hecate
and her sister ship. It also deployed assets around the jump point to B-95a3. The medium freighter didn't have a lot of mines, but she did have a couple of orbital weapons platforms, missile packs, two command and communication satellites as well as four precious weapon drones for the picket forces to use. They were relieved to see the early Christmas gifts.

A second tender parked in an equatorial orbit around the local gas giant and deployed an automated gas giant refinery platform. Antigua was going to continue to ship in new supplies in convoys, but assuring a local supply of whatever materials they could find on site was vital.

As soon as they could, the engineers on board the ship had orders to create a fuel tank farm with any surplus fuel the refinery produced. Until then any surplus would go into the tanker. Something told the rear admiral there wouldn't be much initially. Not with the ships moving around so much. It couldn't be helped, however.

He was
supposed
to turn the tanker around with the freighters ASAP and get them in the jump line back to Antigua so they could resupply him. He was torn; he knew he needed to do it but didn't want to lose his missile collier or the precious tanker. And for now the converted transport was needed to be used as a command platform for the waiting troops.

He frowned thoughtfully. If he kicked them loose, it would mean he wouldn't be able to move the missiles. They'd be floating attached to their pallets in orbit of the planet or wherever he stashed them.

The medium and large colliers could go. They were empty. But it was better to send them back as a group, right?

But, if he delayed their departure too long, then when the ships were en route, he might get hit. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose while his large lips made a raspberry sound. He used to love thinking like that. Thinking out the various possibilities, gaming it all out. It had been fun as a junior officer, important as a captain, but now it purely sucked. But life was about risk.

---<>---<>---

The marines were on the planet, but they had all they could do to hold their beachhead. Lieutenant Ebensher sounded exhausted and shell shocked whenever she called a report in. Reluctantly, Admiral White dispatched the courier to Kathy's World to pull in any personnel he could. Hopefully, the reinforcements had arrived there safely. And hopefully, the convoy transporting them hadn't dropped them off and ran for home.

While his attention was rooted on the ground, the engineers had finished breaking out the ansible platform. It was a very basic affair; a transhab station set up with massive shock absorbers around a central core. The platform had been set up in the L-5 position near the planet, halfway between it and one of its moons. It was the most stable orbital position they could find.

Transferring the ansible core to the station was a tricky maneuver. Nearly half of the surviving muons were destroyed during the transfer. Once they were set up, however, the low bandwidth was enough to serve them. The admiral immediately called Antigua with a SITREP.

He grinned when he got a reply. One finger reached out to activate the all-hands broadcast. “To all hands in TF22. Well done. Damn fine job. We're all proud of you. Signed, Fleet Admiral Irons.” He read. He looked over to see Jojo grinning from ear to ear. She caught his look and blushed and went back to minding her duty station.

---<>---<>---

“I think it's time to send in Recon and the SEALS, sir,” Jojo stated when they got the latest report. The marines were taking a pounding on the planet. Half of their mechs had been taken out and a third of the platoon had been wounded or worse. Only the on-call air support from the fighters and ships in orbit kept them from being overrun completely.

Admiral White eyed her. He had heard about navy SEALS. He snorted at the idea. “What do they know about SEALS?”

“They are being trained by marine recon DIs, sir,” Marshall reported.

The admiral shook his head in disgust. “And your point? Again, no combat experience. No experience at all in special ops for that matter. They are making it up as they go along. Play acting. Well, this is real life.”

“True, but do you think jarheads are going to go
easy
on naval personnel, sir?” the AI asked. He made a face as the admiral and his flag lieutenant each got a thoughtful look on their faces. “They will go out of their way to make it the hardest course they can—just out of sadistic amusement.”

“True.”

“And if they can pass that, then they are on their way, sir, or at least can lead and train the
next
group, accumulating experience and passing it on. Rebuilding the chain. They'll make mistakes, but hopefully they'll live long enough to learn from them and pass that hard earned knowledge on.”

“Someone has to start somewhere, sir,” Jojo agreed with her own nod.

The admiral nodded in understanding. “Good point.”

---<>---<>---

Amadeus called up Admiral Irons when he realized the marines he had on hand wouldn't be enough. Not even with the help of the Guerrilla militia forces he barely trusted.

Admiral Irons immediately dispatched orders to Agnosta and Colonel Forth to send additional forces to Protodon. “You'll have to get the initial support locally, Amadeus. But they will be in the pipeline.” He was still smarting over loosing Gustav. The marine would be missed. He wasn't sure how Ian or some of the other
Bounty
survivors would take the news. He regretted choosing Gustav over Myers. He knew Captain Myers was smarted over the nepotism but … he shook his head and heaved a sigh. It was done and over with now.

“Good. But I need them now, not later,” Amadeus stated.

“All I can tell you is that they are on their way.”

“Sir, it was a bit of a snafu not to have them ready,” Amadeus stated lightly.

Irons grunted. He knew it but knew they didn't have the shipping to get them in—not at the moment. By ordering the reinforcement, he was essentially losing a convoy group. They would have to be pulled out of their regular run, outfitted to carry the troops and their gear … his scowl deepened. And they'd need escorts all the way to Kathy's World he realized. Possibly into Protodon. And anything that went in Amadeus would most likely keep.

“I heard you have Force Recon and SEALS?” Amadeus asked dubiously. “Sending the locals in against this would be throwing them away, sir. No offense but this tight assed bitch has set up a meat grinder, sir. Even a veteran unit would get its ass chewed.”

“Understood. Soften her up the best you can. Map what she's got too.”

“Understood.”

“I'll send in recon and the SEALS,” Admiral Irons said with a trace of hesitation. He cut the orders immediately, flicking his hands to pull up the memo to Sprite who was otherwise occupied at the time. “Try not to get them … hell.” He inhaled and then exhaled slowly.

“I know, sir. You don't want to throw away the experience they've gained for little return.”

“Exactly. This is going to be a long campaign.”

“Protodon, sir?”

“No, I'm talking the
galaxy
. Protodon is just a tiny stepping stone. A valuable one I admit, both locally and as a training ground to blood our troops. But it's a crucible; it is as you said, liable to chew them up and spit them out if they and you aren't careful.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But they need the experience and they are the best ground forces we've got. Hopefully enough of them will survive to pass on what they've learned to the next generation.”

“Yes, sir. Most definitely.”

Chapter 13

Moldy Crow
and
Charlatan’s Prayer
crossed the 6.9 light years to the empty nexus system of B-95a3 in the mid octaves of Gamma band despite
Charlatan's Prayer's
injuries. It took a long six weeks to get to the star system and safety however. The two ships exited hyperspace within a day of each other in the empty system.
Moldy Crow
wasted no time getting off the jump point and headed deeper into the system.

The
Charlatan's Prayer
had survived to get to B-95a3 which surprised the crew of the
Clydesdale
when she showed up in their wake twenty-three hours later. She had given the jumpy sensor watch a fright until they'd gotten an ID on the ship. They did a consult over the laser communication's line. The medium freighter had the most damage and least amount of fuel, however.

“Well, they'd damn well
better
get it sorted out,” Captain Gumel snarled, flexing his arm. He'd spent the first two weeks with his busted right arm in a sling. It frustrated him as did the head wound. But it had been necessary to keep the bandages on and limit his mobility despite his boiling rage.

Dutch Lefou had gotten the injured Gaston off on the last shuttle with many of the other senior officers and noncoms as well as a copy of their tactical recordings.

Lieutenant Shanty had taken
Jean Bart
back in to attack the Federation ships and covered their escape. She hadn't been happy about the order but she'd done her duty.

That bothered the captain none at all. Oh, he heard the occasional whisper about how a captain was supposed to go down with the ship. It simmered in the back of his own mind as well. But he was alive … alive, and in time he would have his revenge. Revenge on those who had taken his ship from him and on any who dared question his survival.

“We can't … we
shouldn't
wait on her,” Dutch said, eyes darting about nervously. He was obviously worried about the enemy following them Gaston thought. He was too but he wasn't as concerned and lily livered as his former XO seemed to be. Losing the battle had obviously taken the heart out of the Lieutenant Commander. He wasn't certain if the man would get his fire back. He wasn't sure if he wanted him around if he didn't or even if he did.

“They are asking for help to patch the ship up,” Captain Media stated. He looked at the senior surviving officers assembled. “I'm asking for volunteers to go over and get her patched up.”

“Why didn't they do that en route? They had six weeks,” Gaston demanded.

“They did everything they could in hyper. But they couldn't fix the damage to her hull or sublight drive of course,” the captain said with a trace of reproach in his voice.

Gaston simmered at the lack of a “sir” from the man and the man's tone. But he had to admit that
Moldy
Crow
was Media's lawful command.

“What's her status?”

“Low on fuel. Captain Kail wants me to heave to and send a line over. But if we do that, we won't have enough fuel to get to Dead Drop, either of us,” Captain Media stated flatly. He crossed his beefy arms, clearly unhappy about the idea.

“Kail … I don't remember him being the captain,” Lefou mused.

“She's
not,” Captain Media replied, glancing at the XO. “Captain Eddings was critically injured and succumbed to his injuries.”

“So she needs a new captain,” Gaston mused, rubbing his jaw. He didn't want the job, not of a tramp freighter on its last legs. There was no guarantee she'd get home.