Coming Home (Free Fleet Book 2) (19 page)

“I have a basic correlation already. It will take a few hours to get it fully worked out,” Resilient said. Eddie looked at his data pad as if it were gold.

“Union technologies as well as bastardized, mutated technologies from multiple races,” Eddie said in a hallowed tone as he took a seat, opening the file.

“Yes, though the majority of the Union items cannot be made without facilities much more advanced than anything the Free Fleet has currently. Though in five to ten years it might be possible, with hard work, to get the Free Fleet to a position where it could create more ships of my class or even bigger.”

“Ten years, Pah,” Salcahr said. Eddie looked at him, finding the commander's eyes looking into his own.

“With Chief Engineer Eddie, I think we can shave more than a few years off of that time, and I don't think we'll just be making ships of your caliber Resilient. With the technology overlap I wouldn't be surprised if we make ships that the Union didn't think of but wished they had.”

Eddie grinned as he felt the confidence in Salchar's words as well as the implied challenge.

“Well, my boy, it looks like yah got a spark in yah yet. With a bit of roughing out those purty features of 'ors, I think we could make an engineer outta yah,” Eddie effected his deepest southern drawl instead of the slight accent he had picked up from his infamous cowboy and southern United States movies.

“Much better to have me funneling you everything you need and you making me some engineers instead.” Salchar grinned.

“You really do know how to
boot
them into shape.” They both shared a grin.

“Well, thank you, Resilient, Commander. I think it best that I went over this here mess you've given me and see if me and some of my lads and ladies can figure out some other useful nuggets to throw together for this here fleet.”

“Go on then,” Salchar said as Eddie raced for the door. He barely noticed Boot, a commander now of a BC and one of the better workers Eddie had taught.

“Boot, what you doing here?”

“Seeing the commander, Chief Eddie.”

“Ah well, wish you'd come back to the engineering side of things. Need more hard workers like you.”

“I could work hard, but I didn't like it much. Plus, I'm better at fighting a ship. Salchar said so himself. He was the one that saw my training videos and selected me.”

“Ah well, if the commander says so,” Eddie said, wondering where such garbage came from.
Well, he did just get you to see past your blindness into Union technology. A bit of talking him up won't hurt.
Eddie rubbed his data pad absently.

“I best be getting in there then,” Boot said.

“Ah yes, very well. I'll see you later, Boot,” Eddie said. He walked out of the command center and  into the nearest maintenance closet, taking the rat tunnels—which was what the maintenance walkways were now being called—into the heart of his own territory. He called a few hopefuls to the engineering break room.

Might as well see who will be making these bases and running the other projects Salchar wants done, while pulling gold from this beauty. What was that saying humans use? Two flying creatures, one thing for both of them? Oh well, more done in less time is always better to me,
he mused as he walked.

“Resilient, I need you to get some people to meet me in the engineering break room.”

“Who?”

“Get Shrift to get me three people, and I'll choose... Vule, Mark, and Jasper.”

“Done.”

“Good, now we have the challenge of figuring out who’s best to get this system into a fleet outpost,” Eddie growled as he grinned.
Should be fun! Finally, I get to make something instead of watch as everything falls apart!

Chapter Small Victories

Rick was on his way down to Earth when the large carrier, which held the supplies from Parnmal, was detected in Sol. It transmitted its codes, confirming it was indeed the parts ship.

It'll be good to have more than a third of our weapons online,
Rick thought. He removed the news of the ship from his data pad, and the shuttle buffeted slightly before lowering as Rick stood.

He'd taken over Salchar's position at the negotiating table with Earth's representatives two weeks ago. He was having most of the same issues his boss had. The leaders had their aides talk to him more freely, which he hoped moved things along faster.

Though, nothing at all happening at a faster pace—was still nothing at all. So far, Rick was running into the same issues of nations holding onto their nationhood and not accepting that they were one planet, and thus they would be treated as such.

Getting an ambassador figured out between Earth and the Free Fleet had been a thing since the beginning of the talks, though it had taken three concentrated days to figure out the exact guidelines of what kind of person an ambassador of Earth should be.

Rick already knew that Commander Boot was going to be the man in the area, and as such, he would double as the Free Fleet's ambassador to Earth. That deliberation had taken Salchar a thought and a talk with the man to make the decision. Rick wished Earth's governments were as straight forward.

Rick was greeted by the regular throng of reporters, who he moved through easily. Krom had insisted on a personal guard and, with the media, Rick was thankful for their presence as two massive Avars seemed to push people away with their mere presence, their eyes causing even the bravest reporter to take an unconscious step back.

“What do you think of the tweets on Earth, paying to be part of a dictatorship?” someone asked and Rick mentally sighed at yet another one of the asinine questions the reporters threw at him.

“I think that the person that made that comment should go and read a historical or modern book on the military rank structure,” Rick said as other questions were hurled at him: about his supposed romantic involvement with Salchar, if he used steroids, when technology would be available for public purchase. Rick answered a few that actually could benefit someone by knowing the answer before he reached the hotel and the reporters stopped, crowding him, and began yelling their questions in louder voices.

Rick grabbed some food from the food table as people were wandering around the conference room, talking and mingling or taking their seats. Rick looked over the leaders of the world, becoming reflective.

These men control the nations of every human on this planet, yet I barely care for their opinion or am nervous in their presence. Before, I would've been looking around in awe and doing anything they asked. Now? Now, I see them as men, not rulers, but individuals that represent their people in varying different ways and are themselves as different from one another as possible. Yet they are all human, and all people that the Free Fleet will look after and die for if need be.

This is a strange fricking universe,
Rick thought as he made no conclusions on the value of his own musings.

Rick noticed that the big players, the movers and shakers in the western and Asian world as well as the Russians, which Rick didn't really place with either, were looking to one another, their mannerisms speaking more than Rick thought he would be able to understand in their words as he leaned forward.

Could they be doing what I think?
Rick thought as he looked to the president of the United States, who looked as if someone had pissed on his table.

Yep, looks like it.
With America being used to being the one making demands, they were not happy when they were the ones being dictated what they had to give.

Rick didn't know about this new president either. The man wanted to take America back to a supposed golden age where the U.S. was master and commander of the Earth with a military that no one wanted to mess with. He bared looking at. Rick had not been blind to the careful hints that led him to think that if he wanted to go back to the U.S., he would have a place open for him, and that the U.S. was still trying to affect their claim over him as a member of the United States Air Force.

The presence of the chairman of the USAF had been a pretty big clue as to the president's desire to have Rick back in the fold.

I agree with Salchar. After this, I'm not touching politics, politicians, or any of this mess with a ten foot damned pole,
he thought as the speaker arrived and everyone began making their way to their seats. The big leaders looked to one another as Rick's stomach screwed up in nerves and the speaker opened up the conference.

I wonder if our announcement to move the station had anything to do with this decision?
he thought, shrugging.

****

The station and the majority of my ships were scheduled to move out in an hour, but I had two people I needed to touch base with first—Commander Boot and Heston.

They walked into the conference room, which had become my unofficial office.

“Commander Salchar,” Commander Boot said, about to give me a finger-tapping. I stopped it before he began, waving them to their seats.

“No need for all that nonsense here.” I grinned as Boot nodded and Heston relaxed slightly. He was obviously uncomfortable talking to someone high up. I had seen, in his personal file from Min Hae, that Heston was quite a relaxed commander, something that was an asset when dealing with fighter pilots nearly constantly.

“Alright, you two. As you know, the plan is for the fleet and Hachiro Station to move to Mars' orbit.

“You both know your missions. Boot is to scout as many systems as fast as possible, seeding them with sensor buoys, while Commander Heston will see to the protection of Earth.

“Now, I wanted to see if either of you had any issues. Boot?”

“No, sir, my mission’s much to easy for anyone to mess up.”

“Yes, but it is vital, nonetheless. Also, your scouting might find systems for us of tactical use.” He nodded. He might be slightly displeased with his mission, but I knew he would carry it out to the best of his abilities. I had more than a few feelers in his ranks who had reported on his stellar performance. Plus, his reviews from his previous commanders made me confident in his abilities.

“Heston?” Now, I hadn't talked to Heston much, and other than the files that Min Hae had sent, detailing the man's performance and knowledge of the fighters, his battle was the best that there was in the Fleet. His fighters, while being quite a small force, were hugely effective, as shown by their ability to keep my shuttles safe and take out shields as needed.

“I'm all good to go, though, I was wondering if Commander Xing and I could rename our carriers. C1 and C2 isn't very memorable.”

“What were you thinking?” I asked. I'd seen more than a few pilots in the entertainment district and, while they were ballsy and good at their job, they were by the whole a rambunctious bunch that rode by the seat of their pants and lived for the thrill of flying. Oh, and named everything.

“FengFang and Pandora,” he said, not batting an eyelid and I mentally praised his composure.

“FengFang, as in the Chinese word for hive, and Pandora as in Pandora's box?”

“Something along those lines.” A small smile crept on his face.

“Alright, I'll approve it.”

“Thank, you sir.” He grinned.

“How are your fighters and carriers, anyway?” I had read the reports, but it was always better to hear from the commander. Boot had already talked to me about the situation of his ships the last time we had met, if I asked him again it would be questioning his reliability, something that I had no issue with. Heston's face became somber as he recounted their situation from memory.

“Feng Fang got winged, but the sections that were damaged have been fixed.”

“Pandora had power issues, though with the new ideas coming from the meeting of information we're having with Earth, we've got new power lines in place to counter those issues. Our R and R time is not what I wished it was, but that comes with having basic haulers outfitted to be carriers instead of making a carrier from the ground up.”

“R and R?” I asked.

“Refuel and Rearm.”

“Ah, have you submitted your thoughts to Felix?”

“I have every department writing a brief every week on what works and doesn't. Last communication I got from Felix, he said that he was going to see if he would be able to get one of the asteroid hulls for a proper carrier.”

“Don't worry, I've already okayed it. After seeing what your ships did in our last engagement, plus, with the surplus of fighters in Parnmal, it would be idiotic not to attempt to increase our fighter numbers and get them a true carrier, no offence.”

“None taken. I've basically just got an electrostatic contained ramp diagonally cut through a hauler at this time. A real carrier, now that's something I'm looking forward to.” He grinned and I smiled. While he might not be the man in a fighter cockpit, there was no denying that he was still a fighter pilot at heart. Chaleel had given him the bug. I just needed to make sure that he was ready to stay back instead of charging forward with his men.

“Also, I was wondering if you would okay one of my pet projects,” Heston said.

I leaned in. “Which would be?”