Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (100 page)

“And obviously since you are here, you did your best fending them off. Good to know, Horatio. Okay, then, H construction steps. The basics I think I've got, but we'll have to go over them eventually. I think I can skip the details since I won't be involved there. But, since I've got the implant keys like you, we can work on what priorities to hit and when,” he said.

“Understood,” Horatio replied. He pulled up an exploded diagram of a basic hyperdrive and then started to highlight components. “Some components are easier than others of course. What I was doing when the admiral was gone was to build what I could with the keys I had—the common parts that wouldn't trip any alarms in the replicators. Then we could fit them as needed or even remanufacture them in the field as needed.”

The rear admiral nodded, eyes on the diagram. “Go on,” he said, wiggling his fingers for Horatio to continue.

“Right. Some parts are harder to manufacture than others. They require different materials and a lot of tolerances are just … tight. Pico level in some cases,” he said with a grimace. “Some things have to be watched on a molecular level to get it right. Hence the A.I. we've got on board to keep an eye on the quality control.”

“I see,” the admiral said softly. “We knew the theory of course but were taking a brute force approach.”

“Which might have worked eventually if you'd recreated what the Terrans and other star faring species had done during their initial days of exploration I suppose,” the commodore replied. “It wouldn’t have been pretty and you would most likely have lost a ship or two. They would have been slow, but eventually you would have been able to learn from them and improve future generations.”

“Thanks for that,” the admiral said wryly. “I don't need any ego stroking though.”

“No, sir. Just stating what I see is a fact,” Horatio said with a smile.

“Okay, so … priorities?”

“Well …”

---<>))))

Once the small convoy of three ships led by
Caroline
as their flagship reached the B101a1 jump point, they synchronized their hyperdrive fields and then jumped.

Horatio didn't pay attention to the day-to-day running of the ship. He was supposed to have been in charge; however, Rear Admiral Zekowitz, Zek, had accompanied the group back so he had taken charge. That was fine. In fact, it was a bit of a relief. Less on his shoulders he thought.

Their initial mission had no ansible on board due to the rocky method to get into the jump chain through the rapids. Another ship would be following with one at its best speed. A special one built with triple redundancy and triple inertial dampeners was sailing in the latest convoy out of Antigua to Pyrax. It was still en route though and wouldn't get to Pyrax for another four months at the plodding speed the ship was traveling at.

Getting the shipyard in Bek squared away and producing was going to be a project. They only had so many industrial replicators on board. Fortunately, the team of officers had a team of experts with them to help transition Bek's industry over to modern standards. It was going to take time, but eventually they'd get it done.

Horatio and Zekowitz carried fresh orders, replicator keys, and implant keys within their implants to initiate other officers and enlisted into the Federation military on a probationary basis. A handful of instructors from the academy and the enlisted boot training center were in the small fleet to facilitate the process. Hyperdrive techs and industrial techs were also on board. The ships seemed over crowded.

Each of the Bek officers had passed the official tests and indoctrination programs before they'd been accepted. In fact, when they hadn't been attending virtual or physical classes, a few had taught guest lecture courses at
San Diego.

One thing that kept coming up was Admiral Irons and his history with Bek. People seemed fascinated with the idea. He knew that the Bek delegation had been a bit disappointed that he hadn't been in Pyrax to personally greet them. That he had been alive had been a shock, but they'd taken the news in easy stride, even in enthusiasm some would say.

His troubles in Pyrax had been mentioned to a few officers in passing. That had soured some of the mood for a brief time before Admiral Irons himself had called the flag officers to get them to cool off their righteous indignation on his behalf.

That was all behind them. Ahead was the future. They wouldn't have many convoys shipping parts and personnel between the yards. Not for a long time, not with the limited water dweller pool of helmsman to draw from. No matter. They'd make do. He'd ship back finished ships with skeleton crews to Pyrax if necessary.

They had two hundred canned A.I.s on board. He knew the Bekians were fascinated by them. That was good. They had their own A.I. but none were as sophisticated as the ones they carried.

Once he was settled into Bek,
Caroline
would take the ships she was escorting, partially refilled with cargo from Bek, to Nuevo. Once there they would unload, do what they could to help the natives, then take on some more of the army militia to transport them and the naval recruits they were to pick up in Bek back to Pyrax.

Undoubtedly they'd make a return trip. But each convoy would take a year-round trip. That was fine, Horatio thought as he studied the Bek shipyard. Just fine.

He didn't have Admiral Irons’ skills or implant keys, but what he had he knew how to use. And he had ways to work around what he didn't have. They had a pretty good starting base … he rubbed his hands together. He was ready and eager to get started.

---<>))))

To the
Shepard
division's chagrin, a pair of ships exited hyperspace at the Nuevo Madrid jump point. From their readings it was a freighter accompanied by a large destroyer. Before they could move to intercept, the pair winged across the star system for the B-97a jump point.

“We'll never catch the bastards,” Captain Song growled in disgust.

“And there is no use burning the fuel trying,” his counterpart echoed. “Damn. I wish they'd let one of us sit there … if they had …”

“No use crying over spilt milk, Daisy. Best get over it I suppose,” Captain Song replied.

“I still don't have to like it.”

“Me neither.”

---<>))))

The
Shizouka
division translated down from delta band, exiting into Kathy's World space in loose staggered formation about one million kilometers apart. They exchanged IFF transponder codes with the startled picket as they passed by them. The BCs quickly crossed the star system, sending out communication lasers with detailed news packets to the planet before they jumped on to Protodon.

“Damn they are making good time!” Captain McArtney said.

“Someone is certainly in a hurry. Where's the fire? Did they check in with the ansible, sir? They seem to have burned through here mighty quick-like to do it,” the XO asked.

“Yes,” the captain said slowly, checking the logs. He nodded. “Yup.”

“Well, at least they are keeping the powers that be posted on their progress I suppose. Something must be going on for them to be moving in a flaming hurry,” the XO said in a disgusted tone of voice. “They must have been hauling ass in Delta to get here so quick. I think Captain Mayweather mentioned something about ten days to get here from B452c when she called, sir?” he asked.

The captain nodded, studying her second in command. “Grass greener, number one?” the captain asked mildly.

“Sir?”

“Got a case of bigger ship envy?” the skipper asked.

The XO blinked then snorted. “Something like that, sir. More like envy over having something more to do than sit around here doing inventory, exercises, or inspections, sir.”

“Ah. Yeah, there is that,” the captain replied with a knowing nod.

---<>))))

“My, she really is hauling ass, now isn't she? She's certainly making good time,” Admiral Irons commented when Phil brought up Mayweather's speed during their next scheduled conference. He was gratified that she was motivated, but he had a mild concern that she was a bit too eager to prove herself all over again.

“Yeah, but why? Why the hell is she pushing it? She doesn't have to have her foot that far down on the pedal,” the rear admiral growled. “There is no need to put that much strain on the systems. They are still settling in.”

The admiral had to parse that last reference out. It had been a long time since he'd driven a ground vehicle. “True, and I know that the faster she goes the more stress; it's not just about time on the clock for maintenance. But she's thinking time is of the essence.”

“Is she right?” Phil demanded. “I think maybe we let her get into the saddle a little too soon now,” he said.

“It's not necessarily eagerness for battle. I think … I think this is instinct. I'm not sure. She's not breaking anything you built.”

“No, sir. Horatio's boys and girls certainly did a damn good job putting those beasts together obviously. It just seems … off. Like she has a bit to prove,” Phil replied.

“That she does. But if you really want to know, ask her,” John replied with a diffident shrug in his tone of voice.

“Aye, sir, I just might.”

“You do that,” the admiral replied.

Chapter
59

Admiral Frost studied the plot and status boards of Nuevo Madrid's meager forces. He had ten warships under his nominal command, but four of them were frigates and the other six were battered. The CEV had one measly fighter on board! He shook his head.

To facilitate their repairs, the damaged ships were all in planetary orbit to shorten the flight time for the shuttles to the groundside industrial centers. The frigates and thin minefield around the jump point were their only defense for the moment.

Every waking moment he was tempted to call it and consolidate the forces onto the jump point or to withdraw completely since the star system was almost useless. But every day the engineers proved him slightly wrong. They were making miracles, but they were making good on some of the repairs on the ships. Not enough to allow the remains of Fourth Fleet to run far, but enough to give hope to actually holding the star system against possible invasion.

He snorted. Who was he kidding? If the enemy came in the same force they had seen in Protodon, they'd eventually win. It would be bloody, but they'd win in the end. He shook his massive head.

Commander Lefou had come up with a new plan to mine the jump point recently, which was one of the projects the remaining freighter
Charlatan’s Prayer
was working on. That and hauling scrap rock to dump into the jump zone to make things difficult for any ship to maneuver easily. With any luck they would get holed translating down from hyperspace.

Again the thought of retreating came to mind as Commander Lefou reported to him with the daily progress report. The idea of taking the battle cruisers and the remaining hyper capable ships as well as a selection of high ranking people, refuel, and then jump out was oh so tempting. The more he thought about it, the more he decided the prudent measure would be to abandon the star system. He nodded. “But, we can't do it until the bastards show up,” he murmured, hands holding the tablet.

“Sir?” Commander Lefou asked, wrinkling his brow in concern. “Were you, um, talking to me?”

“No. Just thinking out loud ,Commander,” the admiral replied. He saw the small man inhale then exhale as if he was deflating. “I want a contingency plan drawn up to mine the planet with nuclear charges to draw the enemy's attention here,” the admiral said. Dutch sucked in a breath of protest and concern. The admiral eyed him but then rolled on. “If it worked for Von Berk, it should work for us. They are such bleeding hearts,” he growled. “We can suck them in here. See to it.”

“Yes, sir,” Commander Lefou said, carefully hiding his doubts. “But mining the planet will divert some of the nuclear warheads from the mines around the jump point, sir,” the commander cautioned. “And take them away from the missiles that the machinists are working to put together for the ships to use,” he added.

The admiral eyed him. He for one had little hope that the slapped together missiles would amount to more than a momentary distraction to the Fed ships. “True, but I'm not taking many. A half dozen or so should about do it. One in each major city and the rest in targets I've got here,” he said, pushing a chip over to the commander. Dutch took it and cradled it to his chest for a moment, looking at it like it was a viper before he tucked it into his pocket. “We'll have to time it so the explosions are in view of the jump point when they arrive of course …,” he said thoughtfully as he stared at the plot.

“Sir, should we warn our people? Get them to evacuate? Set up fifth column groups in the hills?” the commander asked, voice going weak as the admiral turned a glare his way.

“Absolutely not. We will
not
cause a panic. That is the last thing I need to deal with, that or a mutiny. Neither will happen on my watch,” he vowed. “Nor do I want them to wonder why we're evacuating equipment and personnel now. No, we'll give them an hour or so warning before we set the warheads off,” he said magnanimously, waving a fat hand. “Now, let me think.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Lefou said, hiding his misery as he left the office.

The admiral looked up, watching him go with hooded eyes and wondered if he wished to take the commander with him. Most likely not, the man's belly aching was getting bothersome he thought. He returned his attention to his plan after a moment.

---<>))))

The initial plan was looked at with disdain by Captain Post though he hid it well. Or at least he hoped so, he thought as he met with Shantell once more. He knew their … special relationship was the topic of gossip. They rarely did get into bed together; they were too busy comparing notes or just trying to relax after spending some time venting.

Both captains had realized that the plan wouldn't work to contain the threat on the jump point. The mines were sop to delay them by an hour at best. “Your friend, Commander Lefou, did us well with this I think. Not that we can do much with it,” Arnold said, waving a tablet in disgust as he sat on the couch.

Shantell came in wearing a purple silk kimono she'd picked up somewhere. He was grateful for the show of leg and her damp hair was enticing, but he was too busy with the new mess to really get into that sort of thing. “Evacuation …,” he shook his head.

“You and I both agreed we'd have to do it eventually. We were just waiting to make good on the repairs and hoping the Retribution Fleet would arrive in time,” Shantell said as she poured herself a drink and turned the music on. A delicate finger turned the volume control knob up to where she wanted it.

They had learned to use music to mask their conversations from their stewards long ago.

“I know,” Arnold replied. “The other captains and crews will have kittens. Sometimes I wish he'd let us just evacuate everyone to the good ships, scuttle the rest, and then run for it.”

“But he can't do that until the enemy actually arrives. If he does it before, it is cowardice. His ass would be in a sling,” Shantell said, taking a seat next to him and crossing her shapely legs. She took a sip of her whiskey.

“Sling hell, he'd be taken apart. His own family would do it just to keep it from spilling over onto them. You and I both know we're looking at the same situation,” he said bleakly. “I'm not happy about the nukes.”

“I know. But Dutch will follow his duty.”

“I know that. He gave us a quiet word, and no doubt he's done the same to prime the pump on the ground. At least he can get out what he can when he can.”

“I'm not sure,” Shantell replied, laying back. She swirled the drink then handed it to him. He took a sip of it. “You're really more concerned about the threat of mutiny and how we'll look after leaving fellow sailors behind to fight and die though,” she observed.

He grunted. “You know me so well.”

“It's the same thing I'm thinking. And the expectation that they would fight to shelter us while we make good on our escape …” the woman laughed bitterly. “I know one or two of them. It'd never fly. They might do their duty but …”

“But you don't expect them to. And Colonel Bericus?”

“Oh, I do know of him. He's a right bastard,” she said with a small brief smile.

“How well do you know him?” Arnold asked.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. It took a moment before she realized he was curious as well as only slightly jealous. “Men,” she murmured in amusement.

“Seriously.”

“Not well if that is what you are thinking,” she said. She climbed into his lap to straddle his waist. “Not as well as I know you,” she said, voice dropping into a husky tone.

He smiled ever so slightly. They were both tired, but they needed the relief. He leaned up to kiss her, but she leaned back teasingly. He changed targets from her lips to her throat. That earned a moan. He set the glass down on an end table and forgot about the problems for the moment.

---<>))))

The Sword of Retribution Fleet's intended week-long pass through the empty star system turned into something much more. It turned into an unscheduled layover in B97b due to engineering damage discovered in some of the ships. The damage was not restrained to ships taken on from Dead Drop and Garth, but also found in two tenders of the fleet train. A more thorough exam was called as the fleet heaved to in orbit of the star.

While waiting in the star system the courier Admiral De Gaulte had dispatched to Nuevo Madrid returned with news of the last battle of Protodon. It was grim reading for the staff. The following morning the admiral was ready to move out.

“How soon can we get underway?” Admiral De Gaulte demanded.

“The engineers are pushing as hard as they can, sir. Their latest update has revised the schedule upward again,” Catherine explained. She wasn't looking forward to what was about to come, but she'd learned a long time ago not to gloss over things.

“Why?”

“They found hairline fractures in the structure of one of the tenders. When a check of the other ships was performed, they found similar fractures elsewhere,” the princess replied.

“So, we leave that ship behind. They can return to Dead Drop,” Berney, the chief of staff replied, looking at the admiral.

The admiral grunted but didn't commit either way for the moment.

“Sir, what I meant to say was that they found more cracks in
other
ships,” Princess Catherine replied carefully. She saw some of the staff sit back as if in surprise and shock. Some wasn't feigned she noted, but her gaze was more focused on her boss.

“Oh? Why is the first I've heard of this?” the admiral finally rumbled.

“I was planning to present the problem to you at this morning's briefing, sir,” the ops officer stated.

“That's an excuse,” the admiral said, eying her severely.

“Sorry, sir. The news came in rather late last night after you had retired for the evening,” Berney said.

“Still an excuse,” the admiral said, realizing his chief of staff was helping to shield the princess.

“Again, my apologies, sir,” the chief of staff said humbly. Catherine nodded as well.

The admiral seemed to shake himself. He knew better than to take his ire out on Catherine.

“What other ships,” Commander Lovato asked, glancing at the admiral and then to the ops officer. Catherine nodded slightly as if in thanks.

“So far three of the battle cruisers and the flagship, sir,” she replied, wincing when the admiral's face started to turn red. She held up a hand in supplication. “According to what the engineers reported, it was under paint. It only showed up when the fractured widened and cut through the paint.”

“I see. Paint?”

“All of the ships have been painted many times over the years, sir. They are usually stripped every decade and then repainted to prevent rust and other problems. Either the fractures were overlooked or covered over deliberately,” Catherine said.

“It doesn't matter either way. We need a fix,” Berney said. “One that sticks obviously.”

“They are working on it now, sir. It will be temporary, and it will slow our speed. But the repairs will take time. And we'll need time to check the other ships thoroughly,” the princess said, keeping her voice from sounding too miserable.

“It's not your fault, Catherine; you got caught up in the works,” the admiral said gruffly. He inhaled and then exhaled slowly. “It is what it is. We'll deal with it.”

“Should we send the courier back to Nuevo Madrid with our revised ETA, sir?” Berney asked, looking at the admiral.

The admiral sucked in a breath as his skin began to cool, and then exhaled it slowly. “No. I don't want the enemy picking it off. For the moment we'll wait. We will, however, send a courier to Dead Drop letting them know of our changed status. See to it by evening,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” the princess replied, making a dutiful note on her tablet.

“Keep the ETA open,” the admiral said. “Especially since we have no revised ETA at the moment,” the admiral said in disgust. “I don't want to lean on the engineers too much and have them miss something important or gloss over something. Haste is important but not at the expense of a ship.”

“Especially this ship,” Catherine murmured. He turned to eye her out of the corner of his eye then turned back to look at the plot. “So, now that I've had my dose of bad news for breakfast, what else do we have going on?”

He'd almost jinxed them with the old “'what else could go wrong” line. He'd caught himself however.

“Well, sir, we finished the hot wash on the last exercise of course. We have the data from the courier,” Catherine said smoothly. “My department, Sedricks, and the tactical departments of each of the ships are of course going over it. They have the briefs and reports from the tactical departments of
Apache
,
Nevada
, and the other ships that saw combat. It is surprising that the enemy has thrown so many ships into Protodon,” she ventured. She hadn't expected that sort of quality or build time. The numbers were of a concern to her.

“They shouldn't be; they are using the Federation tool box. They've got the tech; they obviously intend to use it. I would. As to the new ships …,” he rubbed his chin and then waved a hand, “construction is exponential, and they've had plenty of time to get their feet under them,” the admiral growled. “But not for much longer. I intend to knock their feet back out from under them with one good knockout punch.”