Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (63 page)

“Sir! C fraction bombardment. I saw the flashes!”

“Helm, maneuver us now! Pitch up ten degrees. Emergency blow! Comm, pass the order to all ships to do the same!” the captain barked. She glanced at the admiral, but he merely nodded in support as he instinctively grabbed a railing.

“How in Hades did they know we were coming?” the Xo demanded.

“The ansible,” the admiral snarled. “They've got a network.” His intelligence officers had finally gotten around to telling him about that little tidbit. They'd classified it as rumor as they processed the petabytes of data they'd picked up from the planet's captured computers as well as the notes from the interrogations the teams had performed. “They know who we are,” he said.

“I guess so,” the XO said. He caught the admiral's dark look and turned away to see the images of the other ships’ captains. Some didn't look at all happy. A few looked concerned or rebellious. But all knew the stakes were getting higher.

Apparently they had good reason to skip Captain Bordou thought as her ship danced out of the way of the incoming fire. If they took their time crossing the star system, they'd be harassed with such attacks the whole way she realized. She cursed silently that they couldn't respond in kind.

---<>))))

Amadeus received the flash report and winced. His refusal to move forces from Protodon to weaken the defenses within the system was panning out. However, running the enemy ships down just got infinitely harder to do.
Kittyhawk
had left for Protodon too soon he thought, and if their speed held she wouldn't be available when they came into the star system.

They were going to fly right by her in hyper. So it was now up to him to set up some sort of roadblock.

He checked the clock. And he had a couple of weeks to figure it out without pulling too much from the B-95a3 defenses to do it.

The latest news report was that … yes, he thought checking the status. The
Justice
division was steaming its way to him at their best speed. Phil had held them back for extra training and engineering support, which had thrown off their timing. Had he let them come forward as they had been originally scheduled, they might have played a factor in Kathy's World.

But, he sighed heavily, instead they were plodding along behind the enemy force now having just left Agnosta. Joy, he thought in disgust.

---<>))))

Admiral Irons shook his head as he read the report. “Slippery bastards aren't they? I hadn't known they had it in them. They've got a crack team over there and some good ships despite the reported damage.”

“Definitely. How they are doing it is a mystery.”

“Oh, I think I know,” the admiral said. “Remember how
Firefly
did it?”

“You're thinking they have Ssilli on board?”

“Well, they did capture Commander Nata'roka and had her on
Bounty
. It would have made more sense to have kept her on Cartwright's flagship but he sent her out on
Bounty,
a destroyer he detached to watch his northern flank
.
I'm guessing to make it easier to run down prey ships.”

“It makes sense, in a sick way I suppose,” Phil replied. “Any pirate would kill to have that ability.”

“Except where they got the source of navigators,” Amadeus stated. “How did they get them? We know they've been upgrading their hardware, but navigating and helm skills like that …. Where? And why trot it out now? Because they see us as a threat? Or did they have this all along like you mentioned with
Bounty
?”

“That's something I'm not happy about. I've been sitting on a few potential sources,” Irons admitted. “One source was in Epsilon Triangula actually.”

“You … damn it! You think they gathered them up somehow? Forced them to help?” Amadeus asked.

“They are good at getting people to comply. They've had a lot of practice dealing with and managing slave labor,” Irons growled.

“Speaking from personal experience, Admiral?” Phil asked.

“My experience was very,
very
brief. Just long enough to assess the situation and then perform the mutiny to take
Bounty
. I do feel for those who have lived under their boot.”

“One wonders why they don't just misdirect the ship into a grav wave. They can't think they'll escape,” Amadeus mused. “It's what I'd do. Take some of the bastards with me.”

“People cling to hope past reason or logic. I personally am hoping we can intercept them short of Protodon,” Admiral Irons replied. “But that's increasingly looking unlikely.”

“You know if they do have slaves on board they'll use them as hostages or kill them,” Phil reminded them. “It's probably one of the pieces of leverage they are using to get the slaves to comply.”

“Undoubtedly. But we have to run them down first. Sprite has been crunching the numbers on their fuel. They have got to be running low, they are pushing their hardware hard. It's better than it was but nowhere as efficient as ours.”

“Which means they'll have to stop somewhere?” Amadeus asked. “In Protodon perhaps? I'm not thrilled about splitting my forces, but if I have to, I guess I have no choice.”

“Well, they did have a picket there. They might
think
it is still there. Think you can pretend to be that picket to suck them in?” John suggested.

The Neochimp snorted. “As long as I get a chance to blow the shit out of them eventually.”

“I'm more interested in capture if possible. I'd find it highly ironic for them to run so hard and fast only to get caught anyway,” Admiral Subert said.

“I too prefer capture considering the possibility of hostages on board,” Admiral Irons said. “But you're the man on the spot.”

“I'll do what I can. No promises though,” Amadeus said doubtfully.

“Amadeus, if it comes down to it, if capture is no longer on the table and you are forced into deciding if you should let them go or destroy them, destroy them,” Irons said with death in his voice. “We can't afford to let them go and hit more worlds.”

“Understood.”

“And they'd rather die than live as a slave,” Phil said. “Eventually they'll figure that out for themselves if they haven't already.”

“True. Which means the Horathians might have careful checks to make sure they can't suicide or take the ship with them,” Admiral Irons said. “But one way or another, this has to end.”

“Yes, sir. We'll do our best.”

“Understood. Antigua out.”

---<>))))

Massachusetts
and
Nevada
erupted into B95a3 space without incident, much to the secret relief of their crews. “They are still on the defensive. We march on Protodon. Best speed to the Protodon jump point, nav, helm,” Captain Post ordered.

“Aye, sir.”

---<>))))

The long-range sensors of the light cruisers
Shepard
and
Almirante Grau
picked up the jump into the star system from their hiding spots near the Protodon jump point. It was the second emergence of a ship out of the cul-de-sac system.

But as their dispassionate computers processed the data and refined it to give them an idea on who they were up against, fresh data poured in. Unlike the one ship that had recently passed through, there were two, and both had settled on a least-time course to the Protodon jump point. Neutrino readings were consistent with a
Derfflinger
class BC as well. Actually, a pair of them, which bode ill for the pair of watching cruisers.

They immediately went into stealth as their captains debated what to do. They finally agreed that Shepard would bring word of warning since she had the more seasoned bridge team. Her navigator and helmsmen could push the ship up to the high octaves of Delta to get word quicker.

Almirante Grau
would remain behind under stealth and continue the watch.

Once they had a definite fingerprint on the ships and their speed, the captain of the
Shepard
gave the all clear to jump.

---<>))))

“Sir, CIC has reported jump activity at the Protodon jump point,” Commander John Kizinsterg, the XO of
Massachusetts
warned.

“A picket, it has to be,” Captain Post growled. He shook his head. “They saw us coming and jumped before we could get into range. It is to be expected I suppose.”

“Are we staying with the plan?”

“Yes. There is no need to change it. They'll get there ahead of us. We can't change that now. But we can throw their estimated timetable off slightly. Have engineering bump our speed up.”

The XO frowned then nodded when he saw the stern unyielding look of his skipper. “Yes, sir.”

“Good then. I'll be in my cabin doing more paperwork if you need me.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the XO replied, shrugging the concern and doubt he had lingering in his mind to the side. It didn't go away, it remained in the corner recesses, but if his captain was confident then he would do his best to reflect that same attitude.

Morale after all, was important. Even if they had every right to be nervous he thought darkly. They'd been humbled, of that he was very much aware. But he, like everyone else on board, was ready and eager for a bit of revenge.

One might say they were looking forward to the rematch he thought with a shark-like smile.

Chapter
34

“The fact that we didn't stop them in B-452c is going to sit in everyone's craw sideways. I'm not holding out much hope for anyone else short of TF22 to do the job, sir,” Sprite said. “There is about the same chance as a snowball in a rather warm place's survival of the picket in Kathy's World doing much.”

“That means more pressure on Amadeus to stop them,” Captain Montgomery rumbled.

“And more egg in our face if he fails. We'll look like buffoons,” Commander Turner growled.

“Leave the political fallout alone. I hate planning for it, but we can do that, just … don't rub my face into something that hasn't happened yet,” the admiral said eying them. “If they skip there is little chance that Amadeus will be able to stop them. Plan for that with the media. Cite the odds of interception if you need to. Get some talking heads involved, graphics, whatever it takes,” he said turning to Sprite. “But for the moment, we're going to have faith.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Moving on then,” the admiral said, eying the quiet dwarf in their midst. It was rare for Vestri to actually physically attend a conference. “You have some good news for us?”

The dwarf nodded his massive head. “Yes, sir. As it happens, the first
Prowler
team has run through their working-up exercise quickly. Faster than expected actually, so I guess my boys and girls did a good job despite all the hoopla someone kept insisting they jump through,” he said giving Monty a sour look. Monty merely smiled his way. “Their builder’s trials were a bit of a teething issue, but the working-up exercises have been the real test,” the dwarf said. “But that's nigh my problem,” he said nodding to Turner.

The ops officer grimaced. “Yeah, only mine. Those things give me the heebie-jeebies,” he said shaking his head. “If the enemy makes them …”

“We've speculated a few times on how they could do it I understand,” Sprite said with a slight smile. “Using just their tech base that we know of.”

Turner put a hand up. “Spare me the details for the moment, ma’am. I'm already having trouble sleeping at night. Those things,” he shook his head.

“That bad?” Nara asked.

“That good I suppose. At least from the intel stand point and their survival. Their op mission had been simple. They had to sneak across the star system with every ship looking for them. We knew they were coming, and even knew the general direction they were coming
from
. We
still
missed them,” he said in disgust.

“Space is vast. A needle in a very big hay stack. Those ships don't have a full cloak; they relied on passives to do the job. And I guess they did it well if they got past you, Commander,” Monty said. He was practically preening.

“Good then. We have many missions for them,” the admiral said. He was aware that the ships were already finishing any last minute refits issues before they moved on to be resupplied.

Once resupplied they would be then sent to Protodon, then through B-95a3 with the intention of going to Nuevo Madrid. They were supposed to short jump into the star system to map its contents thoroughly before Amadeus moved in. He wouldn't be jumping blind.

And once they did that and got the intel back to him through the B95a3 picket, they were going to head further into the empire to see what they could find.

“That's one piece of good news. The other is we've made a smooth transition to the new couriers. Though I'm still not certain as to why since we're now downplaying antimatter,” Vestri said, eying the admiral. “The
Paul Revere
is a better long-run craft then the Sojourner, or so the specs say.”

All eyes turned to the admiral. He shrugged off their inquiring gazes. “I've got my reasons. You'll understand in time.”

The switch to
Sojourner
class couriers over the
Paul Revere
was one he'd thought a lot about. The
Sojourner
class is almost the same design. They were four meters longer, however, with enough room to mount a cramped environmental habitat for water dwellers as well as a small MAM reactor and fuel storage. Fully fueled and with the right helm crew, the ships could hit the upper octaves of Epsilon band, shaving weeks off a journey.

All of them were earmarked for Admiral White's TF22. Admiral Subert's staff was still working out the details to ship containers of antimatter to Protodon on the next convoy run from Pyrax once the path was clear. That meant when TF22 went on the offensive, they'd have very fast couriers to keep the Federation up-to-date on their progress.

“I suppose so then,” the dwarf rumbled. When no further explanation or comment came from the admiral, he continued with his report. “We've made good on the switchover as I said. We've also made good on the repairs to the capital shipyard, and I've finished the paperwork to transition over to the carrier lines. We should be laying another CEV by tomorrow. Also, I understand Pyrax has stopped building the
Doras
in favor of building components for the
Victory
and
Liberty
classes. That's more shipping to us I suppose?” he asked, eying Turner then the admiral.

Turner turned to the admiral with an inquiring eye.

“I agreed with his logic. Each of the Doras were using the same amount of crew as the larger ships but hauling only 10 percent of the load. We can't afford the waste,” the admiral said.

“So the ships he has built?” Nara asked.

“Will be put to use until they are no longer required. Once we don't need them, we're selling them,” the admiral explained. “Decommission and sell to boost the commerce and economy of the Federation.”

“Ah, more shipping to protect,” Turner said. The admiral eyed him then flicked his left hand dismissively at the protest.

“Commerce will become the lifeblood of the economy over time,” Sprite said. “Everything we can do to help that means more money will eventually work its way into the budget. I know most of you aren't fond of the budget, but the more we can pay for things without going into deficit, the better.”

“I thought we were drawing in more worlds to help offset that?” Qr'll'ck asked.

“We are. But that takes time. It also means we will have commitments to bring them up to speed with health, education, industry, and other things,” Matilda said.

“Not to mention have an additional commitment to protect them,” Turner said.

“That as well. So initially, each addition will be a loss for at least a fiscal year before that turns around.”

“And we can't count on the manpower we gain from them since many are half-assed educated if at all,” Sindri growled.

“Unfortunately that is true. Hopefully that will change when we get to the other sectors.”

“I doubt it,” Sindri said gloomily. “We need an
El Dorado
of our own. Something to get everyone to buck up and remember what we can do if we pull together.”

“If wishes were fishes, we'd all be full,” Monty said. “Better to focus on what we can do. I do know that if we can push
Bismark
back out it will go a long way to get people thinking about what we can do,” he said, looking at the dwarf squarely.

“We're working on it,” Sindri growled.

---<>))))

Once the meeting broke up, Nara found herself drawn into a discussion with Sprite about cloning. She knew where the commander was going; she was still adamant about drawing their blood or invading their privacy without good reason. But she did have the young woman's DNA on file. A quick comparison showed some anomalies. She frowned and pointed them out.

“So, there is sign of genetic tampering of Commander Meia,” she mused.

“See?” Sprite said, instantly jumping onto it.

Nara frowned, studying the results. She'd had a lot of experience working on Project Resurrection and overseeing some of the other projects the admiral had started. “But they aren't changeling in nature nor is it a copy of a copy commander. At best it could be a sign of poor genetic alterations in her past or inbreeding at some point. If it is cloning, then she's a Terran copy, one of the original source persons.”

“You can tell that?” Sprite asked.

“No, that is why I laid out the three scenarios. There isn't enough to go by.” Nara said, still pensively staring at the data.

“Damn it …”

Nara finally looked up to the holographic avatar. “I know; it wasn't the answer you wanted to hear. But I can confirm she hasn't any signs of changeling in her.”

“If she did we wouldn't see it, Doctor. It's how they blended in so well,” Sprite growled.

“True. So, if she was a changeling, wouldn't the anomalies have been corrected before birth? To prevent alarms being set off?”

“I don't know. That is what bothers me.”

“I ordered a copy of her medical records from her last exam. She's fine, Commander. No signs of trouble.” Nara shook her head. The woman was tired and obsessed according to the report, under stress and probably in need of time off. But she was also stubborn and had refused a medical leave of absence.

“You don't know what happened on … never mind,” Sprite said. Nara raised an eyebrow. “Let's just say that after certain events we're no longer certain the Xeno threat is completely gone.”

“Certainly not forgotten, Commander. If you are referring to the incident on Epsilon Triangula some time ago, I believe those were nanites?”

“Yes.” Sprite seemed grateful that she had latched onto that example and ignored her slip.

Nara frowned thoughtfully, tapping at the medical record, then looked up with a shake of her head. “And Commander Meia passed her exams—no signs of foreign nanites. That much I can confirm for you to ease your fears.”

“Your medic would have had to have reported them if he'd found them anyway,” Sprite reminded her.

“True,” Nara said.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You didn't get the answers you wanted. Hopefully it will help in the long run.”

“Oh, I doubt that. The only way I'm going to let this go is when I get to the bottom of it.” The doctor blinked. Sprite shrugged. “Call it an obsession or hobby.”

“I was going to say paranoia actually.”

“I'm not Defender, thank you very much. A mystery like this … it both intrigues me … and based on my reactions to those who put it off or downplay it, my emotional modulator is signaling frustration. I don't like holes, Doctor. I also don't like frustration. Like an organic I prefer to be at peace, so I do what I can to … remove the source of the frustration.”

“She's an itch you can't scratch,” Nara said with a frown. “I can't help you unless she shows signs of a problem or a security risk.”

“And by the time those manifest, it might be too late,” Sprite growled.

---<>))))

Another day, another planned trip to the Antigua Prime College for a guest lecture, this time in person, Admiral Irons thought. Won't they be surprised, he thought. And he'd already made arrangements for some entertainment afterward he thought with a wicked grin as his security moved out ahead and behind him. That thought was cut off as a familiar red head appeared near the lock, looking impish as he stepped out of the boat bay.

“And what are you doing here, Miss O'Neill?” he demanded of her. She grinned coyly, then took on a sterner expression, hands going to her hips. “So, am I your girl in port?” she demanded.

John stopped dead still, cocked his head at her expression, then snorted as he took her into his arms. She seemed indignant, but he kissed her. She seemed to melt after a moment. “Does that answer your question?” he asked softly when he broke the kiss. Her eyes were still closed, and her head tilted upward.

“Um,” she said softly. “Maybe …”

“Oh, not convinced enough … well …,” he kissed her again soundly. She giggled as his hands stroked her back and then wandered lower. Her own hands lashed out to his vulnerable flanks.

“No fair!” he squirmed, moving away.

She grinned evilly as he tried to fend her off. She loved it that he was ticklish with her. “All's fair in love and war. You're an admiral; you always leave your flanks open. Tish tosh,” she said.

“Why you!” he grabbed her in an embrace and whirled her around until she gasped. He heard a discrete cough behind them so he stopped and set her down reluctantly. “Darn. I have to behave and be an adult. People are watching,” he said with a mock grimace.

“I don't,” she teased devilishly.

“You …,” she poked him. “Owe! Evil woman,” he said in mock hurt.

“Oh, poor baby,” she teased mockingly. “Suck it up. And you. Still. Didn't. Answer. My. Question.” she said, poking him with each word.

“No, I don't have a lady in every port. Or I should say, just one since I only go to this port,” he said teasing her as he caught her finger. She tried to twist out of his grip, but he held firm. He brought the finger to his lips and kissed it.

“So … dinner?”

“I might be available,” he said.

Her eyes flashed. “You'd better be. You keep making time to lecture at the college or play politics. The least you can do is have dinner with me!” she said warningly.