Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (82 page)

The admiral shrugged as Yao cocked his head back and forth, then got back to what he was working on. “Bitch bitch. Take what help you can get.”

“Aye aye, sir. Well, since you are here …,” he nodded to Commander Bloodhound, Commander Gray, and Commander Wong. All three of the commanders were familiar faces he knew well. So was Lieutenant Protector, whose avatar seemed, bemused by the proceedings as much as he felt. He couldn't tell a damn thing about what the silver blob Proteus was feeling, if anything at all. “All of you, I suppose I can throw you at the capital ship line, if that's where you want to start?” He sent out a silent command through his implants to pull in his capital ship supervisors and managers ASAP. Hell, he sent a signal to retain everyone and for an all-hands-on-deck rotation. Some wouldn't like it, but it was Friday. They could sleep in tomorrow or hell Sunday.

The admiral nodded. “Definitely. We'll get the keys going now while you shift things around. Let me know when and where to go next.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the diminutive engineering officer said with a nod. He stroked his beard, shrugged, and then nodded once more. “We'll make it work. I'll throw everything we can't do without to you right now. It'll take a bit to get the materials queued up right though, sir.”

“Good. Get on it,” the admiral ordered as the managers and supervisors filed in behind him. “Folks, we're here for a blitz. We're going to throw everything we've got at the capital ship line, specifically the ships currently under construction. I want to see as much progress as we can get in that time,” he said by way of introduction to the uninitiated. “We've got a bunch of people who will come in on their time off over the weekend. I intend to do a hell of a lot of work in that short amount of time. So, without further ado, let's get on it,” the admiral said.

That had just about everyone stunned.

“But, sir, to do this we're going to be throwing the schedules to hell in a hand basket!” a Veraxin ensign moaned in despair. “It'll take
weeks
to sort out! And it'll put us behind on several of the ships …”

“He means aye aye, sir.” The dwarf turned to an assistant. “Well, Ensign? Don't just stand there gaping and wringing your truehands, get on it! Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!”

“Aye aye, sir!” the ensign said, stiffening before he shot into the work. Yeomen and other ratings scattered to dive into the project.

Irons was certain someone somewhere would talk; it was inevitable. But he was here to do a job. He glanced over to Yao and Portia. They were here to do the job. He nodded once. “Let's be about it folks,” he growled, settling himself in and keying up his implants.

Diving in to the SD line for a shift wouldn't make up for
Bismark
and
Quirinus'
absence they all knew. Admiral Irons jacked in and started uploading key codes as Protector passed the requests on to him. He knew he wasn't the only one feeling a bit bare ass without those two major capital ships to ride shepherd on Home Fleet. The media was starting to twig on the rising public anxiety level. It would also throw the carefully crafted schedules all to hell for the smaller ships. That was fine if it meant they got a jolt of morale and more importantly, a sudden jump in capital ship production.

He had implants; he planned to run everyone ragged getting as much wrung out as he could. Then he'd take the bar rag and wring it out a second time for good measure. Waste not, want not and all that, he thought.

:::{)(}:::

Sprite would have shaken her head if she wasn't virtual. The things organics pulled, she thought as she scanned the latest antics into memory. Sometimes she wondered if they were worth saving. The only thing that made it worthwhile sometimes was the entertainment value.

Case in point, New Texas.

New Texas in its infinite wisdom, chutzpa or whatever one wanted to call it, had tried to file for exclusive rights to supply meat to the federation government and military. She knew some were amused by the chutzpa. They definitely grew them big she thought. Apparently they'd been lobbying for the move, which was hitting resistance in Congress. It would never fly she knew, but if she could nip the attempt in the bud, it might be a good idea.

They could be after something else. She knew they were lobbying for an army base. So far it had been unsuccessful, but they might be playing a game here, she noted. She pulled the relevant files and regulations, then quickly worded a diplomatic letter pointing out that ships used food replicators for most of their needs and resupplied at any port they were at. It allowed the crew to get fresh food and substrate material.

She pointed out that their market was expanding with the ships being faster and reaching further markets. She then capped it with a suggestion that they look into stasis to better preserve their product before it hits its intended market. The current traditional freezing method could only keep the meat good for a year. With faster ships and stasis, they could hit every star system in the sector and beyond. She ran a simulation about suggesting additional investments in infrastructure to move the product faster but the simulation didn't pan out so she dropped the section. She capped it with a simple statement. “I've been told by organics that New Texas beef is the best in the quadrant, quite possibly the best in the galaxy. Having it as fresh as possible for other markets would be a treat for many civilizations.”

She was amused by the response she received an hour later. “Lil darlin’, thank yah kindly for your words of comfort and support. If you'se was an organic, I'd invite you to a feast fit for a king! But, since yah ain't, you can't mosey on over to get some vitals at my spread. I don't suppose you could point an old, fumble-fingered cow poke at those stasis doohickeys you mentioned?” Senator Russell replied.

Her emotional modulator had her chuckling as she tapped out a response to the lead delegate complete with links and supporting material.

:::{)(}:::

Quirinu
s had been a one off, not a copy of
Bismark
, but she shared nearly 70 percent of her components with the ship and over 80 percent with the new SDs in the pipeline. The SDs were modified versions of the
Leviathan
class, called the Mark II. The ships had been the most powerful and last SD class produced before and during the Xeno war. The Mark II took some of the hard learned lessons from combat and data they had downloaded from Lemnos and incorporated it into the design.

Sunday morning dawned on the planet somewhere and Irons felt a sense of accomplishment. The blitz had paid off in that it had advanced the prototype SDs schedule by weeks if not months. Their two-day blast had nearly stripped the area clean of resources, but it had allowed Sindri to stockpile parts that he would have had to wait on anyway. He now had every part he needed to build the ship and all seven of her follow-ons without having to come to the admiral for the key codes.

They'd even made a dent in getting the ship together in the process. Commander Gray, Protector, and some of the other A.I. and cyber techs had done an outstanding job with the software once a lot of the hardware had been installed and wired.
Sun Tzu's
smart A.I., Confucius, had been brought online yesterday. With the ensign up and running, the ship could start to look after itself and even oversee some of her construction. That process would accelerate as each of the ship's twenty-two dumb A.I. were brought online.

It had worn a few people out in the process, so they had Sunday off for liberty to recharge their organic batteries. The A.I. involved also took time off to integrate the experience.

Vestri grinned tiredly as he looked over the spreadsheet. A lot had been crossed off but a lot remained. The jump in the schedule and appropriation of every resource not nailed down would cause gaps in production and in the warehouses he knew. Gaps were troublesome; it interrupted the pace and flow of the building process. It was never a good idea for a crew to be idle for too long, so Sindri judged the experience a mixed blessing. Apparently he should be careful what he wished for in the future.

He blinked when Lieutenant Fletcher finished running the calculations for him and outputted the results. Slowly he whistled.
Sun Tzu
was now thirteen months away from launching. They'd done two months of work in just … his tired eyes cut to the chrono. Blurrily he stared at it before he gave up. Call it thirty-six hours he thought. Admiral Iron's one-shift blitz had turned into a three-shift marathon. He shook his head.

“If I ever see another cup of coffee or key, it will be too soon,” he moaned, struggling to get to his feet.

The good news was also hitting the grapevine it seemed, he noted. The volunteer work had hit the news a few days after
Bismark's
arrival. The threat of the Horathian fleet still hovered over Protodon, but there was some confidence that it was going to be dealt with, hopefully once and for all, he mused.

Damn well better after everything his people had gone through, he thought.

His implants pinged with a related news story. He was almost tempted to ignore it but clicked it anyway as he got into the lift to go home. Apparently, the admiral's efforts had caused some chagrin and even some panic when volunteers swarmed the factories, recruiters, and docks wanting to help or sign up. Thousands saw what they had worked for, strived for over the years being threatened. And Irons, the engineers, and the Marines on Protodon had shown them that they could do something about it. It was the final impetus to do something, a call for action.

Among them were women he noted, seeing a few women flexing their muscles or grimly standing in line to sign-up. Not a lot of women, but a bit here and there he thought with a nod. A small percentage but a growing one now that modern industry was freeing people up from the traditional agricultural roles they and their ancestors had been forced to occupy. He snorted when a history buff made a comment about Rosey the Riveter syndrome.

He rolled his shoulders and turned his neck a few times back and forth as the lift finished dropping and the doors opened with a soft ping. He rumbled softly as junior officers and enlisted made a hole for him to pass by. He nodded to a few people in passing, but he was too tired to think straight to handle a conversation at the moment. “Get on it, boys and girls. We got it started, keep it rolling,” he said when someone began to clap. He waved a meaty hand then continued on his way.

Some of the old-fashioned men from Antigua had been a bit put out over having women in the general work force. They were scandalized by those who wore trousers or hell, even were a boss! Some of the ladies had to prove themselves all over again.

He knew that as time passed that would wear down, and they'd settle in. What was probably going to keep going on were the changes as that acceptance filtered into the society. But that was someone else's headache he thought as he exited the office complex and headed across the open corridor to his apartment nearby. “Beer and bed. Not necessarily in that order,” he growled gruffly as a guard at the door nodded and checked his IFF credentials. He pushed the door open and headed to the lift with a slight smile on his face.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral Irons stood there, with his left hand behind his back as he waited for the door to open. When it did he smiled at the red-haired vision of loveliness before him. She was wearing one of his purloined white dress shirts; its long tail and big size hung on her absurdly, which made it all the more endearing. She had the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and the buttons open down past her breasts, giving him a tantalizing peak at the silk covered wonders within.

The shirt was also the only covering she had on, she had her soft skinned legs open and barefoot for all to see he noted.

She cocked her head at him with a frown, bringing him back to her freckled impish face. “So look what the cat dragged in. Done playing with your spanners?” April demanded as Admiral Irons stood in her doorway. “You think you can misbehave like that, smile like a little boy, and I'll forgive you for standing me up?” she demanded, glaring at him.

“I wasn't aware I stood you up,” he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. He could tell from her tone that she was toying with him. Not that he was going to let on that he knew that. She'd let him off the hook eventually, but if she knew he knew, then he'd be in a different sort of trouble.

“Really, so, you clearing your schedule didn't have anything at all to do with me?” she demanded, hands on her hips as her green eyes glittered at him.

“Look, can we have this conversation inside?” he asked, glancing around the hallway to the penthouse suite. It wasn't like others would come around, but it still felt wrong. Especially with the security personnel stationed at each intersection and the lift doors as potential witnesses. “Um …”

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at him.

“I brought flowers?” he said weakly, pulling the flowers out from behind his back.

Her eyes narrowed, but the perfume got to her. He saw her pert nose tilt ever so slightly upward and her nostrils dilate as she drank their scent in. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, I'll let you off with a spanking,” she said, taking the flowers from him.