Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (80 page)

Admiral Irons liked him because he had a reputation of stubborn integrity and was honest to a fault. His deputy Governor Andrew Sivula was well known to speak his peace if they butted heads on something, but to back his boss up whenever the job required.

Unfortunately, he had little information on Vis'kal, the Veraxin governor of New Haven or Governor Travis on Halced 6. Perhaps he'd get to know them when they ever got the chance to hold a governor's conference.

He frowned. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He scrubbed his hair in frustration. As his hands relaxed, he felt gravity and his nanites smooth his short hair back into place. “Damn it all …”

“Something, Admiral?” Protector asked.

“I was reading some of the bios we got on the governors and I had a thought,” he rumbled.

“Sir?”

“I think we need a governor's conference. One where we pull everyone in, or their delegates. The Federation would have to ensure security and fast transport of course.”

“For some it is a great distance, Admiral,” the A.I. warned.

The admiral sighed. “Tell me about it. We still need to push the speed up a bit. But if we can get enough of them on board, we can get them to the conference, and I can give them their implant codes when they are here!”

“Some will argue that it would be better for you to do a tour, but I see your point, Admiral,” the A.I. replied.

“Not going to happen,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “I can't be out of contact while in transit. Nor can I be out of Antigua when I need to keep keying production items to make sure things run smoothly.”

“Understood. Or I should say, I understand that,” the A.I. replied. “Telling them that and getting them to understand and accept it are different, Admiral,” Protector warned.

“Different kettle of fish,” the admiral murmured with a nod. “Jot an email out to Sprite. Bullet points, security, talks, transport, and all expense-paid trip to the capital. Get her feedback. See if she's interested in taking it to Jeff to see what he says,” he said.

“Aye, sir. It will have to be a long-term goal,” the A.I. warned. “Many won't be able to leave their seat of power this year. Some may refuse totally.”

“One step at a time,” the admiral said.

“Understood. You have 5.4 minutes until you need to catch the shuttle to make the next replicator rounds, Admiral,” Protector reminded him politely.

“Oh goody,” the admiral said dryly, rising to his feet. He stretched, rubbing the small of his back before he went to the head. “Let the shuttle crew know I'll be on my way in a moment.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Protector replied.

---<>))))

Admiral Irons sighed as he listened to the report from the marines. His plan to speed up an invasion force was hitting a snag. Jersey wasn't for it. He had made known his reservations for the Destria force as well, but he'd reluctantly signed off on it.

Now though, now they needed to hit Nuevo Madrid, then follow that up with an invasion to tie off that loose end once and for all. And they needed to wrap up the campaigns on the other planets too.

Apparently it wasn't going to be that easy though, he thought.

“Admiral, we need more support. Ground troops are one thing, but we
need
air support as well. Proper dropships, rated for a combat environment. Proper
gunships
to go in there, soften the LZ up and provide on-call fire support that orbital ships just can't do. We've got the bare minimum for Destria. I don't have anything left in reserve now; I'm cleaned out except for a small training unit,” Newly-promoted Brigadier General Jersey Forth persisted.

“I realize that, General. But we have other commitments. I'm doing what we can do with what we have,” the admiral said.

“And I can't do my job properly if we don't have this support, sir. We have
got
to have it if we're going to take the planets away from them. Liberate them. Otherwise …,” He paused in frustration. “Otherwise we're going to watch them burn, continue their genocide from orbit and not be able to stop it.”

“We'll …,” Admiral Irons stopped himself. He'd been focused intently on the navy side. They had to have it; there was no point having all the marine hardware if they couldn't control a star system! He shook his head. “General.” He wiped his mouth and then started again. “Look General, I understand where you are coming from. But we have to control space to get to the planet. That comes
first
.”

“Yes, sir. But I'm saying we can't send our people in without the support. It's suicide against the more entrenched planets. Protodon was minor compared to what is waiting in the wings of the Empire. And the deeper we go, the more resistance we'll face, sir.”

The admiral frowned. He was right about that. Other worlds might have defenses much like Antigua has. Which meant they would have to soften them up. But an orbital bombardment may not work. Or if it did work, it might incur unacceptable casualties.

“Admiral, with all due respect, you and the other flag officers are fighting the
old
war. During the Xeno war, it was found rather quickly that it was suicide to fight them on the ground. I get that. That was why when the navy and corps were inundated with all those designs for new equipment, they didn't buy into any of it despite the howls in congress. The army and marines were forced to fight a rear guard action to support evacuations of the planet's population when possible. But this is different, sir. We're fighting humans not Xenos. They are holding the ground, sir, not destroying it.”

“You're saying that we're fixated on fighting the last war to the detriment of this war?” the admiral asked coolly, sitting back in his chair.

“I'm saying there are some who never stopped. Who still think they are fighting the last war. I don't know if that is right or not. But if we're going to win
this
war, we've got to get our priorities straight. We can always adapt to what we learned fighting the Xenos later if necessary, sir.”

The admiral nodded. “Interesting point,” he conceded.

“I have my moments, sir,” the General replied over the ansible link. A smile hovered unseen in the air.

“I'll talk with the other flag officers. Vestri's schedule is pretty heavy right now. We did slip one production run in I suppose. He was supposed to build more Belugas, but I think we can retool for your larger landing craft. The small craft … I'm not sure about. The production lines are heavily committed to keep up with our new carrier push,” he warned.

“And we appreciate that, sir. But I've been getting some inquiries about setting up small subcontractor factories here on Agnosta. I know other star systems have taken an interest. Triang sent me a message in the last convoy. If we farm out some of our production, it will spread the wealth sort of. It'll mean more shipping, and we'll have to coordinate it all, but it can be done.”

“It means protecting a lot more real estate, General. You understand that?” the admiral asked carefully.

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll take the idea to my staff and play with it. Forward your inquiries to Sprite. I want solid people though General, not pie in the sky start-ups with little or no plans or materials. They need to hit the ground running with minimum hand-holding from us. But they also have to be reliable, producing reliable equipment and reliable enough not to sell it on the black market,” he warned.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Antigua command out.”

Chapter
44

The much anticipated arrival of the
Maine
division put everyone in Protodon in a good mood. Integration of the two divisions into the beginnings of a true squadron began as the ships crossed the star system. The arrival of the
Justice
division a week later sped up the process. To some things were going into overdrive. There was a tension of excitement in the air. It was a heady experience.

“So we're really doing this?” Garfield asked after their last exercise had concluded. It was really unfortunate that they only had the destroyer squadrons and CEVs to exercise against. The skippers were good, but they were limited to their ships and lack of seasoning compared to the admiral and the skippers of the BC's.

If the admiral was regretting or resenting not getting Harris and
Dawning of a New Day,
he wasn't saying so within ear shot of his staff the Neogorilla noted.

“It looks that way,” Kelly replied with a tight simian smile.

“We've got a short period of time to put this together. The longer we delay the more time they've got to get organized and repaired. So, get it right people,” the admiral growled. “We've got four days to shakedown. We'll have more time in hyper and in B-95a3. Work on the basic exercises based on the plans and contingency plans we worked up. Briefing for all senior staff on
Liberty
to commence by 0900 tomorrow. Be here.”

“Or be square,” Aleck murmured. Kelly chuffed in amusement. She like everyone else was tired; they were working twenty hours a day. But she wouldn't trade her position for anything. Not when they were this close to finally getting some payback.

---<>))))

Prowler
UFN-001P jumped into Protodon a day after the
Justice
division arrived. It was a short jump under stealth, an unscheduled exercise that even Admiral White didn't know was coming his way. His picket force alerted him the moment the jump was detected. Unfortunately, they got the flash but not enough of a read of the ship to learn what it was.

“Something you want to tell me, John?” Amadeus asked suspiciously.

“About?” the admiral asked innocently.

“An unscheduled arrival from Antigua?” the Neochimp demanded. “We've got a new tango in the star system. Unless it is a pirate that's spent the past three years in hyper, which I doubt.”

“Oh that. Well, treat it as a training exercise. Possibly SAR, use your imagination,” John replied absently. “You'll figure it out.”

Amadeus frowned. He opened his mouth to protest. “Antigua out,” the admiral said, cutting him off.

---<>))))

Fighters, recon drones, and DD Squadron 1 tried their best to run the little ship down. To their immense ire, they found that they couldn't. It wasn't just that the little ship was slippery and very stealthy, it was that the stealth was so good and space was so vast that she'd gotten too much of a lead time on them.

Not that they knew any of that. All they knew was that an unauthorized ship had jumped into Protodon space, and they had orders to run her to ground. But they couldn't, and that didn't sit well with the ship's bridge officers. They knew their careers and potentially lives of people in the star system or abroad were riding on their abilities and success.

But it was not to be. Finally frustrated the Neochimp called Admiral Irons back three days later. “I see this is a test or some sick joke?” he demanded without preamble.

“Why, is someone laughing?” Admiral Irons asked mildly. That little reminder, that small dig at the ancient saying about “if you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined” brought the Neochimp up short. “It is indeed a test. An unscheduled test for you to be sure. But this was more for their benefit than your own,” the admiral replied. “A final exam I guess you could say before they have to do this for real.”

“So now what? You know we're burning a hell of a lot of time on the sensors, not to mention fuel and frayed nerves. I
should
be training, damn it!”

“What do you do when you give up playing hide and seek? Broadcast the signal when you figure it out,” the admiral said as he cut the channel.

“Damn it,” Amadeus muttered. He looked over to Jojo who was eying him. “Com, broadcast …,” he paused then scowled. “Omni broadcast in the direction we've been looking for them. Hell, in all directions. Send it in the clear.”

“What, sir?”

“Olley in free,” the rear admiral said sourly.

The com rating stared at him in confusion. “Sir?”

“You heard me. Transmit the silly thing and get it over with.”

“Aye, sir,” the com rating said dubiously.

The admiral grimaced. “Follow that up by this. If you are done playing games, we
adults
need to get back to work. We've got pirate ass to kick,” he growled.

“Aye, sir,” the rating said dubiously.

---<>))))

An hour later a ship's IFF appeared on the main plot. Garfield swore; it was twenty light minutes out from them, well outside their search zone. In fact, the ship had been dogging them. “They were close enough to bite us in the ass the whole time,” he said in disgust.

“Not quite, but close enough,” Kelly replied. “Whoever is over there has a nice set of balls on them.”

“
Prowler
class,” Jojo murmured, nodding. “Now I understand.”

“I'm glad someone does,” Aleck said sourly. “We just burned through a hell of a lot of time and fuel running them down for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Amadeus replied from behind them. They turned to him. He'd gotten his attitude adjusted and realized he needed to pass on the lesson to his staff in turn. “This was an unscheduled exercise, not a prank. It was for us, a tracking exercise, for them a final test of their abilities,” he said, indicating the small ship.

“If we'd fired on them, sir?” Garfield asked.

“Where they are going, there are no second chances,” the admiral replied. “Had it come to that, they would have undoubtedly sent off their IFF. It didn't come to that.”

“Sir, incoming transmission from the
Prowler
. Captain's compliments and they need to refuel before they proceed on their mission. I'm also getting encrypted transmissions; it sounds like a copy of their orders and itinerary, sir.”

“Of course they need fuel. So do we. They get dibs, however,” the Neochimp flag officer said. “The sooner they are off and gone, the better.”

“And the sooner they are out of our fur the better,” Jojo said darkly. “That ship gives me the willies,” she said shivering theatrically. She saw Garfield flick his ears in agreement.

“Hopefully, they do the same to the enemy. I wish we could have gone with a better class though. One with a full cloak,” Amadeus murmured, studying the ship. “But they've proven they can handle the job.”

“Aye, sir. I guess they have.”

---<>))))

The ships rendezvoused at the B-95a3 jump point and took turns at the fuel farm established there. The
Prowler
j-umped to B95a3 three days later.