Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (22 page)

“Understood. Keep an eye out for them. Figure out who they are, but don't arrest them. Track them.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied dubiously as the Ensign's brows knit in concern.

“Don't worry about it, Ensign; it's basic tradecraft. If you don't know it, look it up on your own time. But follow my orders,” Monty growled.

“Yes, sir,” the ensign replied.

“Last shuttle call for Convoy AR-441,” an overhead speaker squawked. The trio of men looked up and then at each other.

“Dismissed,” Monty said, picking up his duffel. He had a flight to catch.

And possibly hell to pay, he thought as the two men came to attention smartly, then moved out without a backwards glance.

---<>))))

Senior Captain Trajan Vargess rubbed his tired eyes wearily as he tried to get a handle on the new changes his CAG was proposing to the training schedule.

He sighed heavily. He was the senior most officer in the star system after the admiral. That meant he had to be kept up to speed at all times on everything the admiral was doing and planning as well as the day-to-day functions of his ship. He thought paperwork was bad enough when he'd served double duty on
Fuentes
as the G-2. He'd only hit the tip of the iceberg, and the rest of the damn thing was grinding him under. How the hell could a ship, hell, a
carrier
, generate that much paperwork?

It wasn't his real problem; he knew it. Nor was keeping up to speed with Admiral White. The chimp kept his plans on file and routinely brought the captain in on conferences and planning sessions. No, it was the differences in the seat he was in. He had started to realize during the battle that he wasn't cut out for a carrier command. It didn't sit well with him to send kids off to do or die alone out in the cold void.

What he could do about it he didn't know. The only thing he was glumly aware of was that eventually he'd get bounced out due to seniority. They were pushing people up the chain of command fast. At the speed they were growing, he estimated he had another year tops before he got tapped for a commodore rank.

And wouldn't that just suck? He'd dreamed of stars when he'd been a kid, but he'd given up those dreams before the Xeno war. He'd settled down, taken one path instead of another, been in the reserves, the militia, then he'd been recalled and tapped to escort the students back to the nearest academy before he got a new assignment. His homeworld had been destroyed too; he shook his head trying to put aside the pain. Fortunately, it was an old pain; he'd built enough in this new life to compensate for the scars of pain that thinking about his past occasionally brought up.

But still, if he thought sending kids off to die in fighters was bad enough, what was he going to do when he had a star on his collar and had to do that with entire ship companies? He shook his head.

He'd find a way to deal with it—one way or another. He turned his errant eyes to the day-to-day problems of his command.

Maintenance was still coming to grips with the new fighters, as were the deck monkeys and pilots. Hell, all around he thought.
Cutlass
fighters were better than the
Cobra
in that they were a simpler design, modular and therefore could be adapted to whatever mission and environment they were intended to fly in. The
Cobra
didn't have the ease of repair like the
Cutlass
did with her modular design. It was also more balanced between air and space while the
Cutlass
could be configured for strictly space ops with a savings in fuel and power.

Still, it would have been nice if BuLog would have sent them the parts along with the fighters, instead of as an afterthought. And oh, maybe the simulators software updates too? It seemed like it had been too much to ask for … not that the CAG had wanted the new fighter design in the first place. She still thought of them as too primitive and untested to be on the line.

He was butting heads with Meia a lot. So were the squadron leaders and the maintenance crews. She'd written a few up for insubordination too. So far he'd kept it all in-house, with captain's masses to deal with it. He didn't want a full NCIS and JAG investigation. After he'd put a quiet warning in her ear about being called to testify and such, she'd backed off and let him deal with discipline his way.

Which was nice of her since it was his damn ship. She treated him like he was just the driver sometimes. He could teach her a few things about insubordination if he wanted to. But he understood what was the root of her problem. Meia was driven, he'd thought she was a marionette at first, going through the motions and haunted by the deaths of the personnel under her command but apparently not. She was focused on bringing her noobs up to speed as quickly as possible and didn't take any excuses. If they couldn't hack it, she wasn't afraid to send them packing.

Which was a problem, they only had so many pilots to go around, and experienced pilots were in short supply. He'd tried to intervene and counsel her, but she'd told him bluntly to butt out, the wing was her shop.

She was right; he had to admit that. But she had to understand that pilots didn't grow on cornucopia trees either. She needed to get some patience and learn to train them while delegating some of her other duties or foster them onto wiser calmer heads and let them get up to speed.

He was certain though that she was afraid that they didn't have time. He wasn't so certain she was wrong either.

---<>))))

Captain JG Dwight Harris grinned as he opened his email. The header said it all, BUPERS, subject, promotions list. It could be about his crew; in fact it probably was. But there was a rumor going around …

He scanned the formal lines and then grunted when he finished. He was indeed up for the next cycle of promotions. Good. So were a few others, some unfamiliar names there. He didn't like it how others who hadn't put in the sweat time he had were pushing up the ranks faster than he was.

He needed to work on his career planning a bit more. He knew that now. He wanted a star on his collar, more than one eventually. He had the right mind, tactical track like Admiral White. The way the war was progressing he'd get it. Hopefully sooner rather than later, he mused.

He knew the delay was because he'd been in his beloved ship too long. There was something to be said about the love of a first command. He didn't resent that part, though he admitted privately that he shouldn't have been impatient for combat and should have been more open to a BC slot. If he'd stayed behind in Pyrax, taken a cruiser posting he would have been naturally aligned for a BC slot.

But he would have missed the second battle of Protodon. In having his ticket officially punched as a ship captain who had seen combat, he couldn't resent that decision. Besides, it was in the past.

What he did resent was that
Damocles
was still damaged, and there was little he could do about it outside a yard. His beloved ship deserved better, but he didn't want to be pulled away from where the action was. He didn't mind the increasing duties to act as a commodore however. That hinted at better things to come. It was quite possibly why they were about to bump him up to captain senior grade.

Take that Renee,
Firefly
, Trajan, he thought with a slight smile on his face as he saved the email and then went on checking his inbox.

---<>))))

Commander Meia's eyes narrowed from her cockpit fighter 4, managed to hit the second wire line, skip, then bolt off the extended carrier deck as the pilot applied power

“I'd give that a score of two,” Orville, one of the two A.I. on the ship reported over the network. “Flying in manual …”

“Can it,” Meia growled.

“At least these are touch and goes, not turn and burns,” Ensign We'lk said over the net.

“True,” another pilot replied.

“Why are we doing this anyway? Wouldn't the turn and burns make more sense?” another pilot asked peevishly.

“You just want to see that pretty deck ape again,” another pilot teased.

Meia grimaced. She'd wanted to do turn and burns, but the skipper hadn't allowed it. She'd reminded him that she was in charge of the wing, but he'd reminded her that he was in charge of the ship and mission. And a part of that was the safety of the ship and crew, along with the wear and tear on the equipment. She could write off her wing's equipment use if she wished; he didn't want to deal with the IG's office when they came calling.

She thought of him as a coward. But there had been a small grain of truth wrapped around his statement. One big enough for her to scale back her intended full combat exercise to a minor one followed by the touch and go exercises.

They were working off the front bow lip on the carrier, not trying to land inside the crowded deck. At least not until they were low on fuel. Should she call for an in-flight refueling as well? She was tempted, sorely tempted. They needed the practice there too.

The one thing she couldn't practice with was fighter against warship tactics or a full-up exercise. She had to get Admiral White to sign off on both and so far he hadn't. The ships were too far apart at the various postings to allow it.

And she disdained such activities in VR. The real world was where the real training was at.

“That was a little too close, Commander,” First Lieutenant Johnson said wearily, eying the ship as he came up beside her. They had been practicing traps all day, and it was beginning to show on the crew. People were getting testy and twitchy. Both were bad when you had to do it right the first time.

“A lot is riding on us getting this right, CAG. If someone screws up and we get a deck strike or worse, you know there will be hell to pay. The investigations and shit alone …”

“I could give a rat’s ass about that sort of chest beating. I'll worry about it if it comes up. Are you making excuses, Tinder?”

“No, ma’am, just trying to put a dose of reality on this. I hate paperwork almost as much as I hate lawyers. Combine the two and it's the beginning of a very bad day that will just go on and on …”

“Can it,” she growled. She could hear the snickers over the net. With it though was an undercurrent of resentment along with a desire to get it over with.

“You
have
to be ready for this. If you can't handle it, you shouldn't be here. You're going to be tired after a battle. The ship is going to be damaged. You're going to have to trap under those conditions. You're going to have to learn to trap while the ship is underway, possibly maneuvering or even racing to a jump point. So spare me your sniveling and get it right!” she barked over the radio network.

She took a breath of oxygen from her mask, settled herself, then nodded once. “Okay. We'll try again. This time, get it right. Three wire, Johnson, you're up first,” she ordered.

“Aye aye, CAG,” Johnson replied.

She didn't care if he hated her or not or if any of the other pilots did. She only cared about results. She was bound and determined to get them.

Chapter 12

Admiral Irons nodded curtly as his security detail separated. Additional Marine details had secured the entrances and exits of the building as well as the classroom. He had finally gotten the detail into BDUs not full infantry armor like Captain Burrows had wanted. But he also knew the captain was nearby with a squad of fully armored troops on standby. Like he needed them, he thought. They were great for crowd control, but Protector could watch his back just fine. And in a pinch he could bring up his own weapons or force field to protect himself.

But people around him weren't so well protected. They were also quite vulnerable to a bomb or other device, so he had reluctantly but wisely agreed to the detail—but only on his terms.

He was resigned to having a detail each time he left the military industrial complex however. He only visited three places: Antigua Prime, Antigua Prime's College, and more infrequently, the planet. But his favorite by far was the college. They had recently added a military wing for the crop of middies and noncoms taking classes. He knew Lieutenant Raynor had done her best, taking lessons from Matilda's playbook to set it all up. He also knew the woman had been a bit put out and nettled that Matilda had shown up and instantly dived in to make changes.

They had finally come to terms and were a good team. They were dividing their time between the college, their own administrations, and setting up the academy on the planet. At least they'd finally gotten the enlisted and noncom training centers finished a month ago and were done tweaking them. At least for the moment, he thought wryly.

“You've been doing this a lot lately, sir. Slow month?” the AP said, eying him. She was a human but a chimera. She was three meters tall, with elf-like ears that wrapped around her head to join at the tips. She had milk white skin with blue bioluminescent marks all over her body, a feline flattened nose, and wide cat-like golden eyes. She had long golden hair in a braid that went to her waist. She apparently preferred flowing silk garments in her wardrobe to accentuate her lithe long frame and long fingers.

She also had a reputation as a ball buster around the student body and faculty. No one dared cross her. Even the professors were terrified of her. The admiral could respect that. She had a sharp mind to go with that dancer body.

“I try to do it at least once a week. Security keeps it random, and my schedule can fluctuate wildly,” the admiral replied. He had returned to be a guest speaker with lively class on colonization. It would serve to help inspire the future and frame his state of mind for the future. His point of view would also leak out he knew, hit the web and media to allow others to shape and form their own policies around it.

“Well, sir, we're about ready for you,” the assistant professor said with a nod. “I wish the prof was here, but he's got two other classes tonight.”

“I think we can handle it,” the admiral said with a brief nod to a few of the middies. Sergeant Sn'll, the Veraxin ROTC instructor, had reported a good crop of middies this year. That was good. As the new education initiatives filtered downstream and the teachers adjusted, the kids who joined up would be better and better with less of a need to be retrained than the older generations. He hoped that within a generation the schools would be turning out graduates on par with those back before the Xeno war.

“I don't know; this lot can get lively. Expect questions, sir. Lots of them.” She rolled her eyes. “When Lieutenant Raynor guest lectures, it can get … feisty.”

“Forewarned then is forearmed I suppose. I've been in there before, I like a live audience. Let's do this,” the admiral said with another nod as he pulled his notes up on his HUD.

“Yes, sir.” She seemed to settle herself then stepped out onto the stage to introduce him. There was a bit of surprise. No one had known he was going to attend, and even more surprise as he stepped out into the full view of the audience. Apparently some hadn't passed the word that they'd seen him in the back. All the better he thought as he walked to the podium.

“Be seated people,” he said, nodding to the middies who had shot to their feet. “We've got a bit of ground to cover, and I know I for one do not have all night. Besides, I bet the Miss Thornson will undoubtedly load you up on homework tonight to cover anything I miss,” he said, smiling politely but briefly to the assistant professor. She smirked but nodded a bow back as the class gave a theatrical groan.

He couldn't help but smile slightly as that shot went home. The groan was good natured though, he could tell from sampling some of the tones involved. “Fine then. Glad that's settled. On to business,” he stated briskly. They seemed to sit up more, almost eager he thought.

He was aware the event was being recorded. Not just officially by the college for future canned lectures and commentary, nor just for those who couldn't attend in person. He had noticed some of the students and even a couple of the staffers in the wings setting up small cameras. They would no doubt post clips with their own comments the moment he finished, possibly even selling them to the media. So be it. It was all a part of the first amendment, even if he was the one doing the talking.

He already knew they'd covered the basics of colonization on the core worlds—how the various species had evolved and expanded to the various continents on their worlds. Miss Thornson had most likely hit on some of the earlier space colonization efforts. “I understand you've hit the basics of Terran history. I am assuming by now a few of you know about my family's contributions to the colonization of Mars,” he smiled ever so slightly when the class seemed to blink in surprise. “If you haven't it's there for all to read. I'm not trying to hide it or use it. It's there; it is the past.”

Focusing for the moment on mankind, Mars was the first extra planetary colony. Colonies were eventually set up on Earth's Moon but they were more transitory than Mars was.” He shrugged that idea off. “Not many wished to live there long term, not with the problems in the environment. For most it was a temporary job or a stepping stone to bigger and better things like the O'Neill colonies that had begun construction.”

“Lagroose Industries played a large part there,” a student said dutifully.

“Indeed they did. Jack Lagroose was instrumental in not only colonization but also in the creation of the Neos, mankind's efforts in starflight, the First A.I. War, and the first interstellar colony on Eden in the Pyrax star system.” That sparked a murmur of surprise. The admiral smiled. “I know a lot of you haven't had the time to read what I did when I was a kid. I'll let you off the hook on that one, but I suggest you take the time to look him up between homework assignments. Mister Lagroose went beyond just settling in on Eden in retirement. He was instrumental in dealing with the occupation of Eden when it was invaded, and in finally ending the war and brokering a peace agreement during the First Terran Interstellar War. It is from all that and his … gift for synthesis that we are here today—that there is a Federation at all. But, I digress. Colonization,” he said with a nod to the AP.

“Prior to terraforming and the introduction of mankind to the interstellar community, colonization was fraught with risk. Explorers ranged across the galaxy looking for various worlds to settle. Some species were not above displacing an existing species or even exterminating them if necessary in their quest to expand. But the colonies were far apart, without much ability to draw support from the mother world or other colonies. They were mostly self-sustaining if they wished to survive. Many species like the Veraxin had regular trade, but it was more for information value than real commerce.

The lack of suitable planets and exploration of various regions sparked territorial conflicts between the species. Each was intent on their own needs, and trade between species was infrequent. Something of a cold war existed between the Taurens and Veraxins for over a millennia before mankind stumbled into the mess by terraforming Eden.”

“Eden and the other world …,” a student said, half raising her hand.

“They hadn't gotten to terraforming the second world prior to the beginning of the first war,” the admiral said. “That came much later in history. The young woman seemed to deflate. He smiled to encourage her slightly.

“The space bridges …”

“Also made colonization scattered,” the admiral replied with a nod. “And at the time, some species refused to use them because of the costs. Mankind didn't know about the charges levied for the use of the network; we literally stumbled into them,” the admiral explained. “But that's another story.” he smiled indulgently again.

"The one gift mankind … excuse me, Terran-kind," he smiled slightly and bowed to a bear in the audience. The bear nodded regally back. The admiral returned his attention to the audience at large as he cued an image on the holo emitter. Off to his left, a rocky planet was projected. After a moment it began to change, sparkle with impacts, and then cloud over. "The one great contribution Terrans brought to the galactic stage was terraforming. We didn't invent it, but we perfected it beyond the slow processes others had been using at the time." He grimaced as the clouds cleared into a blue marble. "In fact it helped spark the First Terran Interstellar War, but that's another story for another time period."

"You are again talking about Eden, sir? In Pyrax?" a Neochimp asked helpfully. "My family were some of the people who first colonized there under Governor Lagroose," he said.

The admiral nodded. "Good for you. After the end of the First A.I. War, there was a large impetus to emigrate away from the Terran star system. A lot of it was due to the need to start over, and yes, to escape some of the repressive laws the new Terran Federation had laid down in the wake of the war."

"Like nanotech," his Neochimp helper suggest.

Irons nodded again. "Yes, like nanotech. Thank you, Mister Rodney," he said when Protector hovered a name over the chimp. The chimp had the grace to look abashed. His companion tugged him back into his seat and then smacked him on the arm. Apparently the female didn't like the looks some were shooting their way. She would hopefully put a damper on his enthusiasm.

The admiral returned his attention to the group at large once more. "The other reason was birth rates. Veraxins had a massive birthrate issue and did not use birth control prior to their own world wars, but then rigidly controlled their population until they went interstellar. Taurens had small populations, but were very, some would call it, fiercely protective of their herds. Now, Neos fresh from the war were like humans after major conflicts; they wanted to reaffirm life and start their delayed families. They did so with gusto," he said nodding to the chimp. "But there were laws limiting their population numbers in Sol, so they emigrated."

"Laws because people feared them as predators," the bear rumbled darkly.

“With good reason,” someone else retorted. “Some of them went primal, killing other innocent people. Can you blame them for fearing them and wanting them to be controlled?” That caused a stir until an assistant professor cleared her throat loudly enough for them to renew interest in their guest speaker.

The admiral cocked his head and then nodded once. "True. But also a rational approach to the life support question. Anvil and many space habitats went through the same problem, and many like Anvil took on draconian methods to deal with their excessive population. Means that were harsh. But they were the only ways the leaders found to keep the majority alive."

"It still wasn't right," Mister Rodney muttered loudly enough to be heard. His companion scowled at him. He hunched his shoulders but didn't seem all that repentant.

"No. But given a menu of bad choices, they selected the middle one on the list. They could have found other means to handle the situation. They didn't. It is in the past; we can only hope to learn from it," he said.

He turned and got a sip of water from a glass on the podium to allow a moment of silence to let them digest that. "Moving on …"

He covered the subject of the lack of population diversity, logistics, planning, and attrition. With it he covered how many colonies hadn't planned on loosing people in the first few years, causing problems with genetics down the road or just having children in some cases. “You can't plan for everything; it's inevitable something will come up and bite you in the ass. But you can take steps to plan for the basics. To have a reaction plan in case of fire for instance,” he nodded to a couple of the middies near the door. At least one he recognized as a student fire fighter volunteer. “Then there is war, famine, disease, and floods. You make a template plan for each, then adjust as necessary. I understand many colonies learned that basic idea the hard way. Some before Terran-kind's launch into the stars never got a chance to learn it.” He grimaced. He had no idea how many thousands of colonies had died out because the environment they'd been dropped on to claim a world hadn't been suited for their species.

“More than one visiting starship found itself with an empty or near empty world when it came out of hyper. And unfortunately, in the case of disease,” he grimaced in distaste as the group sobered. “All too many of them carried the disease to other colonies they visited.”

“Sticking with bio-diversity for the moment, some colonies lacked the credits for artificial storage of embryos or had religious objections to such practices. The same goes for uterine replicators. Some laws prohibited such things. I know the Veraxins banned such practices because they wanted to prevent an early population explosion on the colony. They wanted the population to live or die with the minimum tech basis needed. It might be why they are so fond of Terran Westerns, even to this day,” he said shaking his head.