Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (29 page)

She bobbed a nod. “Yes, sir.” she dashed a quick note to herself. When she finished she looked up expectantly.

“After that, we're going to need to go over the logistics again now that the battle cruisers are here. Have their quartermasters and their chief engineers get with logcom about any repairs that they had to do en route. Also any spares they need to replace.”

“Aye, sir.”

---<>))))

“Think the admiral will want me out of the hot seat?” Commander Ker'll clacked. “The credits and odds favor Harris for it,” he said to his XO. He swiveled an eye stalk his way.

The lieutenant commander Neo-orangutan eyed his boss. “Going to give it up, sir?”

“Without a fight? No.” The captain stroked an arm rest with one true hand. “I may be young but I've wanted this my whole life. I'm not intimidated like Sam is. I can handle this. I've skippered large ships unlike her.”

“Yes, sir, I suppose you have,” Bengkulu intoned dutifully. He didn't mention that two of the “larger ships” were freighters and one had been a tanker. The Veraxin was determined not to step down and get a black mark like Sam had. But if he screwed up, it would be even worse.

And crap rolled downhill, which meant he'd be on the receiving end for most of it, since it was the XO's unenviable job to run the ship properly. He tugged on an earlobe.

The problem was, Ker'll was indeed a fighter, but not just in naval combat. He was a gutter fighter when it came to internal naval politics. He'd already made allegations more than once about the racial makeup of the senior-most officers in the fleet. Never mind that he hadn't been around for the battle of Pyrax. He felt he should be given opportunities for advanced promotion to “reestablish the balance” of the fleet makeup. He ignored the tenant of the navy that put equality of opportunity over outcome. For him it was a foregone conclusion that he was going to be promoted out of the zone as much as possible and resented it when he didn't get it.

He'd been damn lucky to get
Freedom's
top slot in the first place. Some said it hadn't been as much luck as maneuvering on the new skipper's part. His ship had come into port with a supposed engineering issue, and Admiral Subert's staff had pulled the seasoned crew and then dropped them willy-nilly into the holes their manning problems had opened up with the new ships coming out of the yards.

“We're going to have to excel at our game. Step it up and outpace the flagship if possible,” the Veraxin stated, clacking his jaws. “Technically, I should have the flagship position.”

“Captain Vargess is senior, sir. Technically, a junior captain handles a BC, sir,” the Neo-orangutan said reflexively. He bit his lip as all four eyestalks swiveled his way. That was a sour subject since the commander had thought he was due for a frock to captain JG by taking on the position. He hadn't gotten it and had ranted for weeks on their trip out.

“Vargess won't be around for long, mark my words. They've already gotten him in mind for something else. Something bigger and better.”

“Yes, sir,” the orangutan said, bobbing a nod.

“Justice will be served in the fullness of time. For the moment I will wait,” the Veraxin stated, setting into his chair/saddle like it was a throne.

The Neo ape nodded dutifully, wondering very privately what it would do to his career if he helped someone squash the bug.

Chapter
17

Courier
UFNDV-005P
pulled out all the stops in its race to get the word out of the attack on Epsilon Triangula and the retreating enemy forces. They managed to hit the eighth octave of Delta band, shaving days off their journey and allowing them to get to Gaston in just under four weeks.

The courier played Paul Revere, calling to the picket and to the ansible station. Quickly word went out through the ansible network. Details followed as the ship came deeper into the solar system cutting down on the light speed delay.

Admiral Irons received word within minutes of the alert. He read the initial report grimly and then contacted Nightingale's ansible. He sent out a dispatch with the news there, as well as orders for the Factory Tender ship
Prometheus
to prepare to move out within hours.

Captain JG and ship Captain Shelby Logan had stopped in the star system to help repair it after the pirate rampage there some time ago. She had also built up the defenses on the Epsilon Triangula jump point to protect the star system from potential further attack. Her ship had divided its time between the jump point defenses and attempting to help the savaged planet. When the ansible convoy from Pyrax had arrived, she'd established contact with the Federation forces and had been ordered to remain in the star system for the moment.

Once Admiral Irons had a copy of the secondary more detailed report he scanned it, then sent a copy to Prometheus with confirmation orders for Shelby to take
Prometheus
to Epsilon Triangula to help rebuild the planet and
Firefly
to get her home. It would take just over 2.2 weeks for the factory ship to get to ET. He knew her crew would be anxious about
Firefly's
fate, especially Shelby. Their concern served them well, but they should be more concerned with the planet and its battered population.

Her escorts were to remain in Nightingale as temporary pickets. He reasoned that
Prometheus
would not need an escort to Gaston and Pyrax, she would undoubtedly need to remain in Epsilon Triangula for some time he thought darkly.

He dispatched orders for the courier to refuel and resupply and then return to ET at best speed. They were the only communication's link to ET until an ansible could be set up there.

Once an ansible was set up it would close the southwestern loop with two exceptions, New Brunswick and Aquarius. He had no intention of offering Federation membership to New Dublin for some time.

He would need to station couriers in strategic nodes as planned. He frowned thoughtfully as a request from Admiral Subert in Pyrax came in. Phil had the right of it, he thought, kicking himself. He must be tired he thought angrily. While he was distracted with the courier plans, he should have been thinking about how to run the bastards who had committed genocide down. His fingers flashed as he tapped out orders for Phil to come up with a blockade plan and execute it.

---<>))))

After all the orders were out, more damage reports rolled in. His inquiries about the planet made him grimace. He'd seen worse devastation before and during the Xeno War, but after years of not having to see it, to deal with it … “the carnage …,” he closed his eyes in familiar pain.

“Worse than Protodon and Hidoshi's World. Worse than what happened here in Antigua,” Sprite murmured.

“Yes, but all in one place? In a star system that has signed on with us? With a fleet presence? Granted it was the hospital …,” his grimace deepened. Was Doctor Richards and the others okay? Did they get out in time? Were they picked up? His fingers flashed out fresh inquiries.

“The media is going to have a field day,” Sprite said in disgust. “This is exactly what we're supposed to prevent and that's going to sit in some people's craw sideways. They won't let it go either. Wanna bet?”

“I know. We'll just have to do our best. We're … well, I'm an engineer, and we're expected to work miracles but don't expect it on a consistent basis!” he said, shaking his head. “Even we have limits, and even we, sometimes fail despite everything we try.”

“I know. Getting them to understand it …”

“Time heals all wounds. I'll try to keep that in mind as we deal with this. I'm ordering some of our reserve support ships to ET.”

“They can't get there from here—not with the pirates loose in between Admiral,” Protector reminded him.

He sighed, sitting back as he remembered that. “Damn it!”

“I can forward that to Admiral Subert,” Sprite said, taking the partially written document out of his buffer. “He has a couple of those factory ships Horatio talked him and you into building. Plus, they've got some of the other support ships built on the
Liberty
and
Victory
basic hull designs. This seems a grand time for a road test,” she said.

“Still not enough,” the admiral growled.

“But it's the best we've got. Unless you want to send in more shipping? Draft a ship and send in what, doctors? Pyrax can't spare food …”

He exhaled, clenching and unclenching his left fist. After a moment he realized what he was doing and settled down the best he could with a shake. “I need to work out this frustration.”

“Later. Focus now, sir. The living need your attention.”

“All right. Phil it is. Tell him to send everything he can. Expedite it. People will start to die without adequate shelter, food, and water once the cold weather hits in the cooler climates.”

“Okay. And they'll have a law enforcement issue. The relief forces will need marines. I'm attaching that too. Hopefully his staff can sort out the rest of the details, fill in any blanks, and come up with their own ideas.”

“And we can keep throwing ideas since that's all we can do for the moment,” the admiral growled. Sprite gave him a sidelong look but then went back to typing.

---<>))))

Captain Shelby Logan saw the order to get to Epsilon Triangula and inhaled sharply. Not only were her worst fears confirmed, they'd been compounded. Her old ship had been battered according to the report. Her nostrils flared as she read the litany of damage. It was extensive, which spelled massive crew casualties as well. She frowned bleakly. Her bridge crew looked at her and then away.

She thought of what to do and then sent a signal to the VOX. “All hands, this is the captain. Attention!” she said sharply, making those in the room with her sit up straight. “We've got a new mission, folks. Rescue. We need to get to Epsilon Triangula and do what we can to save the people there.” The crew stared at her expectantly. They knew the news wasn't good. “I'll dump the pertinent bits in the ship news network in a moment. It boils down to bad, all bad. ET was hit. Hit, no,” she scowled. “
Hammered
is more like it. Hammered repeatedly by the bastard pirates. Millions are dead or dying as I speak. They were hurt and hurt badly.” She paused, inhaled, then exhaled almost explosively; she couldn't hold it in anymore. “And so was
Firefly
…,” she saw some of them stiffen in alarm. She nodded grimly as she continued her report.

---<>))))

Admiral Subert received the orders to blockade and stop the enemy force if possible and nodded. Just what he'd expected. He had a squadron of light forces in Gaston, another in Agnosta. The problem was they were apart. Attempting to stop them in Centennial was out, he'd much rather catch them in B-452c if possible.

It would also drive them away from any tempting convoys in the area. Speaking of which, he thought, hands flicking as he issued fresh memos. “To all convoy commands. Flash warning of pirates in the area of Centennial, B452C and Kathy's World. Included are current projected course and numbers …,” he stopped to find the appropriate data then link them in before he continued. “And the standard orders to avoid contact if possible. ETA to B452C is …,” he frowned as he pulled up the tablet but then shook his head. “Unknown at this time. Use all caution,” he finished and scanned it. When he was satisfied, he hit send and then sat back.

---<>))))

Admiral Irons saw the memo to all convoy commands and nodded. Anyone in B452C and Briev should be considered safe, but it would catch up with the forces passing through Triang and Agnosta so they'd pick up on it. He grimaced and then started dictating his own memo to Amadeus. If Phil's blockade failed and they got past the Kathy's World picket as he expected … in fact, he opened a second set of orders to the picket there and ordered them to not engage and avoid contact while protecting the planet before he continued. When he sent that off, he returned his attention to Amadeus and his orders. The chimp wasn't going to like it, but he was most likely the only one who could actually stop the bastards from getting out of their controlled space.

Now if he could only actually do it …

---<>))))

Admiral White saw the dispatches detailing what had happened at Epsilon Triangula as one rather large headache and upset to his carefully laid plans. He'd planned on the invasion of Nuevo Madrid by the end of the year, just as soon as the marines finished moving up a brigade from Agnosta to finish securing the planet.

Now he had to cover two jump points, the one to B-95a3 as well as the Kathy's World jump point. He wasn't about to move forces into Kathy's World; he needed to keep them concentrated in one solar system.

The same could be said for the Kathy's World picket force. There weren't a lot of ships there, just the three warships now that
Kittyhawk
had been repaired and was en route to Protodon. But they couldn't cover the B-452c jump point without leaving the B-98 jump point unguarded. Granted, the other end of that warp chain had a Federation naval presence in B100 omega as well as B101a1, but there was no telling if there was a slow ship or ships ploughing their way through the low octaves of hyper towards them.

He rubbed his brow as he closed his eyes. “This is why they pay me the big bucks,” he muttered.

The attack was still making its way through the media, hard on the heels of the second battle of Protodon; it could be seen as nothing less than a setback for the Federation navy.

It also meant that those who hadn't lost faith in the Federation were going to be clamoring for very large heavy picket forces protecting their star system. And they had to come from somewhere, so the shipyard systems would howl when they saw more of their ships flitting out to protect someplace they barely recognized on a star map.

And all those defensive deployments meant his reinforcements just got iffy at best. It also meant that with a Horathian force marching his way in an attempt to escape, he wasn't going anywhere. He was the roadblock to stop them from getting out of Federation controlled space as well as the roadblock keeping the pirates from getting back in.

There was an added complication besides the political fallout however. The attack on Epsilon Triangula meant the enemy had navigators who could get around the current defense lines easily. It was going to be a pain in the ass to stop them.

“Sometimes it doesn't pay to get out of bed,” he muttered.

“Problems, sir?” a familiar simian voice asked.

“Just the usual. Everyone trying to muck up my plans for sector conquest,” he said. “Or counter conquest, however you want to put it,” he said, brown eyes opening to see his flag lieutenant standing there by the holo table. “I miss anything interesting?”

“No, not really, sir.”

“I'm still in shock over ET,” she said. “I mean, not just the destruction, but the target list. Industry I can get, replicators, okay. But the water people? They hate anyone different than Terran stock, right?” She wrinkled her nose. “So why?”

“Navigators,” he said.

“Navigators, sir?”

“And hyper helmsman. People of air and water are the best starship pilots. They can squeeze levels of efficiency out of them and do things that would turn one of us white,” he said, indicating his dark fur.

“I see.”

“It's why the admiral has been onto them as well. It's a long term goal,” Amadeus explained. He saw her frown, lips puckering. “What?”

“The battle of B101a1. Admiral Irons used a Ssilli to jump the forces there.”

“Yes?” he raised an eyebrow her way.

“Maybe that's where they got the idea, sir?” Jojo asked, now excited about finding the connection. “I mean, it's a tactical advantage, right?”

The admiral shook his head. “Not possible. The intel on that couldn't have gotten to their admiralty in time.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I forgot that,” she said in a quiet voice. “Still … when they do get the news …”

He frowned thoughtfully and then nodded in return to what she'd left unsaid. Most likely the enemy had remembered what a water dweller could do and had targeted them for that reason. It was why the Xenos had targeted them for destruction during the Xeno war after all.

He glanced around the room and then shook his head. Not that it mattered much, the water dwellers were at a premium. You'd need three or more per ship so taking a fleet into hyper would be dangerous with the small numbers the enemy had reportedly taken.

But they could breed them, a small corner of his mind pointed out. He cursed himself. They might be thinking long term; he had to concede that point. But if he had his way, they'd end the war long before those slaves could be old enough to pilot a ship.