Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (15 page)

“And if they don't show up?”

“Then we wait. If we run low, we retreat. While we wait our people do the best they can with the stores we've got on hand. It's all we can do.”

Shantell stared at him for a long moment. Finally, she exhaled. “Well, it's a plan I suppose. And a proactive one. Did you ever consider the idea that Fourth Fleet has been destroyed? Run to ground somewhere else? I mean, there are a lot of star systems between Protodon and where they were operating.”

“And since they are in penny packets they are ripe to be picked off individually; yes, I know. Fortunately, a ship is difficult enough to find in a star system if it wants to hide. Even harder to find in hyper. Ships pass each other in hyper without ever noticing it.”

“Unless by accident. Or if say, the other side has Federation tech and can detect them,” Shantell reminded him.

He grimaced. “Let's not overthink this now. They aren't omniscient or omnipotent.”

“No, they just seem to be.”

“Morale in the crapper?” the senior captain asked, gauging her mood.

“Mine or the ship?”

“Both?”

“They know we got our asses kicked. We did a good job, but like you said when we left, any draw is actually a loss. I know they are afraid of what's being sent to the star system in our absence. I know I'm afraid of it.”

“Think we're outmatched?”

“For the first time, I don't honestly know. Possibly,” she admitted quietly, looking away.

He frowned, trying to decide what to say. He needed her, needed her badly. Needed her support and needed her ship.

“But we're not throwing in the towel,” Shantell finally said. “I know we've been kissed. Well, we've done our share, probably more than our share over the centuries. Or at least they might think so,” she said, eyes flickering. “But I'm not through kicking ass. Like you said, we'll find a way.”

“Agreed.”

“Sorry, I need to check in,” Shantell said suddenly, pulling out a small phone. She connected it electronically to the shuttle's communications, then put a call in to her ship. “XO? Status report. Tell me some good news.”

“Well, ma’am, it's mixed at this point, but getting a bit better I suppose. We do have some issues coming up that will need your careful attention.”

“Okay, go on,” she said, glancing at Captain Post.

“Well, ma’am, we've gotten the worst of the injured shuttled down to hospitals. DCC is still trying to find a way around the hull buckling.
Massachusetts
' tactical team suggested we move around some of our turrets to cover the damaged flank. DCC and engineering do not concur; they are worried about the debris, lost hard points to the mounts plus trying to run new control runs and power lines,” he warned.

The captain's exchanged looks. “It's something we can certainly keep in mind,” Captain Mueller finally said. “If we have time. Continue.”

“Right. Both flanks got pretty well chewed up as you know, ma’am, so it would be like robbing Peter to pay Paul. I think DCC can get a couple turrets back online. At least two were knocked out by the hull damage. Their control or power lines were cut.”

“Good news.”

“The starboard flank is the worst though, ma’am. We've got work crews still surveying and tearing out more of the damage now that the engines are offline. I don't even want to think about the engines. Engineering is already whining about the damage there and how badly the surviving tubes are out of balance and overloaded.”

Shantell frowned and looked away to the port hole for a moment.

“Continue,” Captain Post ordered.

“Um, sir? Um, okay, um, we've gotten a handle on logistics. The updated file is in your inbox. We've shot ourselves dry on the starboard flank. What didn't get shot off blew up when those magazines were breached,” he continued. “Sensors are offline there as well. We need to rig something up, but DCC keeps throwing their hands up in the air.”

“Tell them to get it done.”

“Yes, sir. I've … okay, I'll try again. I know we're out of stores though. Any chance we can draw any from the ships nearby? I already found out
Massachusetts
is tapped out,” he said.

“We've got our own damage to deal with,” Captain Post rumbled. “Send a list to me as well as to Admiral …,” he stopped himself. “Send it to your skipper and me. We'll figure something out.”

“Yes, sir.
Nevada
out.”

“Right,” the captain said as the circuit was cut.

“Frost hears that and he'll really freak,” Shantell murmured.

“He'll definitely think twice about sending us back in,” Captain Post admitted. He frowned, thinking fast. He might have to go in solo or draw on the small Nuevo Madrid picket force. If he left
Nevada
behind, would the admiral possibly agree to that? His frown deepened as he tried to game that conversation out.

“Are you?” Shantell asked, breaking his concentration. “Thinking twice I mean,” she said, eying him.

“I'm …,” he scowled then shrugged, letting his expression clear. “I'll admit it, Shantell; yes, I am—at least for you and
Nevada
. I'm not sure how to game it yet. The admiral might insist you remain behind and guard the backdoor.”

She suddenly smiled. “And you are thinking about a trap? Get them to chase you back to B95a3 where we'll be waiting?” she asked with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

He stared at her for a long moment, surprised, then he snorted explosively. Finally, he chuckled. “It is an idea, isn't it? Turn the situation on its head? Make them break their teeth on us?”

“Calling the shot? Let surprise be on our side is a possibility, sir,” she reminded him. He nodded. “It'd be a nice first dollop of revenge to chew them up.”

“As long as we don't bite off more than we can chew,” the senior captain reminded her. She nodded grudgingly as the shuttle approached his ship.

He nodded as the idea was played over and over in his mind. He did his best to pick it apart from various angles, but it might work. It would definitely let them get some revenge. After a moment he snorted at himself.

“What?”

“I'm just remembering my gung-ho attitude a few months ago and how I wished Rico and Cartwright would leave something for us so we could get some glory too,” he said. She frowned. “Oh don't worry, I'm no longer in it for the glory. I know I've screwed up. I'm pretty sure my ass is numbered. But before I go, I plan on taking some of them with me,” he said.

“Here here, sir,” she replied with a growl.

“
Massachusetts
docking complete. All ashore who are going ashore,” the pilot quipped over the VOX. Both captains looked up in annoyance. Captain Post unbuckled himself and rose to his feet. “Coming?”

“I'm not sure, sir. I know
Nevada
needs me,” she said.

“Well, if she can spare you, I can at least feed you up before sending you back over. I understand my wardroom and officer's galley are no longer being used as improvised hospitals, so I've got the room,” he offered.

She nodded. Her hands flicked the seat belt off and she rose, one hand on the upper bulkhead. “I was going to ask you about how we'd get past the jump point defenses a second time. Most likely they are doing everything to plug the holes and improve them.”

“Valid. And jumping in short is the only option I can see to counter that.”

“Yes, sir.” She bobbed a nod, then schooled her face into a mask as they went through the usual boarding ceremony. It was short, the crews were rather busy with repairs.

“As you were,” Captain Post ordered the side party and those who had started to stand. “We've got a ship to fix and a battle we haven't finished with,” he growled. Heads nodded. A few techs smiled uncertainly, but then they turned and got back to doing what they could.

“We need to get both ships turned around ASAP, sir, but there is such a thing as too much haste,” Shantell warned him quietly on the walk to his wardroom.

It was a long walk, punctuated by occasional detours around damage or work crews who couldn't make a large enough hole to accommodate them. Captain Post didn't say anything until they got back to his wardroom.

Inside he shucked his jacket and then went to the bar. Captain Mueller tucked her cover under her arm and looked about the room. She could see the occasional sign where the crew hadn't quite finished cleaning up but it was in good sorts. Better than her own wardroom, she thought with a pang.

“Frost is the key. He's not really a risk taker though. It's one reason he is where he is, so he can't do too much harm.”

“How did he get to flag rank to begin with, sir?” Shantell asked, tossing her cover onto the table and then removing her own jacket when the senior captain indicated she should get comfortable. He unbuttoned a few of the buttons on his collar.

“He's got political connections of course. He was also careful guiding his career up to this point. Selecting Nuevo Madrid as a posting … it's smart. He would be the one to supply the fleet in the area.” We need leverage to get him to move in the direction we want.”

“How are we going to do that, sir?”

Captain Post frowned as he poured each of them a drink. He didn't have much left; the alcohol had been either used for cleaning wounds or they'd taken it to drown their sorrows. He wasn't going to begrudge the loss, not when he didn't know who was responsible. “I'm not sure yet. What we need to do is focus on our repairs for the moment. Get everything as shipshape as we can. Get the crews back on their feet and training hard.”

“Sir? So we might go back in?”

“I don't know. I doubt the enemy will poke their head in here without a bigger force. Bigger than us I mean, though I could be wrong about that too,” he said sourly. The fact that a smaller force had torn his division up burned like raw lava every time he thought about it. It hurt, as did the damage to his career plans, but with it came a desire for revenge.

He'd get it, one way or another.

---<>))))

Admiral Frost considered his options, but he kept running into the same problems over and over. He had to send word to the fleet of the recent battle. However, he had only one courier remaining,
Courier 9913
, the one assigned to his fleet station. She had done a good job passing on the news when she'd made the last run. She'd even helped distract the picket in B-95a3 to allow the
Nevada
task force their shot at the picket.

His question was, if he sent it, he'd have nothing else … but if he did, would they get through? The logical thing for the enemy to do would be to picket both jump points and pounce on anything coming out of his jump point … Could they even mine it? That was a nasty thought.

Could he send
Charlatan’s Prayer
instead? Hold back the courier in case of more important news?
The
Cygnus
class freighter could make the run now that she had been repaired, but she'd limp along in the low bands. It was best to send the courier, he thought. Right now he had her running supplies to the meager forces he had on the jump point. Since there were two transports and the tanker, she like the other ships were running half empty on each run, but the urgency to get everything on the jump point made him burn through the fuel and add time to the maintenance clocks on the ships. They'd make up for it later.

His four frigates and
Ma Deuce
were sitting on the jump point, covering it to the best of their ability.

But what if the enemy did strike here? He could use the
Cygnus
or
Ma
Deuce
or one of the other ships as his escape vessel, but they'd hold the jump point! His hands clenched and unclenched as he realized that. He scowled blackly, aware of the trap he was in. How he regretted taking the posting now!

If he took the
Cygnus
early, he'd have to contend with the accusation that he had abandoned his post. At the least it was a career-ending decision. At the worst it'd cost him his life. A short life as a disgrace or capture and internment or possible court martial and execution?

Life certainly meant more to him than death's all hallow calling. Everyone had to face death eventually, but for however long you could put it off was the usual race people played. He intended to do the same.

Besides, if he did fight and get captured, he might be able to get liberated one day he reminded himself.

All thoughts of taking Protodon were set aside for the moment. Self-pity, concern for his own welfare and destroyed plans, along with the feelings of being trapped ruled his blue mood for the moment.

---<>))))

Lieutenant and Captain Lucius Opal weren’t having the best of days. Never mind his name, he was used to the ribbing that went along with it. No, what bothered him was the current state of his ship, the
HVCC 4391
. His baby, his first command had gotten indigestion at the worst time imaginable.

At least they'd managed to limp into port at Dead Drop. But there was no way they were going to go further. Not without some significant repairs.