Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (104 page)

That sucked.

The rest of his forces had spread out. Those who were not in orbit had followed through by destroying all infrastructure in the star system.

When he was certain they had things under control, he dispatched a courier with news of conquest and his full report.

---<>))))

TF22 formed up on the jump point after three weeks in the star system. To be safe they would travel in the low octaves of Gamma to make certain their damaged ships could keep up without straining anything. It would lengthen their journey, but they had time. Amadeus was looking forward to his open-ended appointment in Dead Drop … but the enemy wouldn't be. He couldn't help but smile to himself at that thought.

While en route undoubtedly the crews would continue to labor to make right on what repairs they could. Once they were in B95a3 space, he would allow them time to make good on more repairs while waiting on the new reinforcements to arrive, then a bit more time to get sorted out as he worked them up to his speed. He planned to cut them as much slack as he could; he needed the extra ships. He was tempted to send the most damaged ships back to Protodon and swap them in for the fresh forces, but they had been blooded. They knew how he thought; they'd been broken in to his manner of thinking. Besides, they'd earned the right to be there with him. He wasn't certain he wanted to launch another offensive with some of his ships fresh without any time to train with them. The idea of trying to learn the officers of those ships while bringing them up to speed while also on the move wasn't a pleasant thought.

The good news was, he had plenty of time to dither about the idea either way, he thought, lips puckering in a brief smile. Two whole months in hyperspace to get to B95a3. They would arrive a month after the courier had jumped in and gone he thought. Very well. His eyes cut to the plot as they readied themselves to jump. The countdown ticker had begun.

After the fleet had jumped out, they left only the slowly distributing or clustering wreckage of Horathian warships behind in their wake.

Chapter
63

Shepard
and her division mate
Almirante Grau
saw the distant arrival of a ship at the B95a3 jump point. They were out of position to do much about it, however. Fortunately, this one was friendly. The courier transmitted her IFF and then a hot wash review of the recently witnessed battle. The captains and officers of both picket ships listened to it, then put the news out over the ship's news channel. The ships wrung with cheers. Smiles were the order of the day. High morale sang through their veins to cap a long boring week.

Captain Song thanked the crew of the courier and downloaded their log to the ship. He included a report of the pair of ships seen departing Nuevo Madrid for B-97a. It was unfortunate that TF22 wasn't going to get the clean sweep that they had all desired, but at least they'd bagged most of the bastards the captain finished.

The courier crossed the star system and then jumped to carry the news to Protodon. They knew once it was transmitted the courier would refuel and then return.

---<>))))

The
Shepard
picket didn't have long to settle down and get bored again. Three days after the courier departed,
Shizouka
led her division and other warships in a synchronous downward hyper translation at the jump point.

Once the small force jumped into real space, startling the pickets, they exchanged IFFs and then got underway to cross the solar system. They kept in laser contact with the picket ships, exchanging the latest news and even running some light tactical sims along the way, but they didn't linger near the jump point. It wasn't where they were needed to be.

“I think we scared the shit out of them. We're early,” a CIC rating said with a giggle.

The captain snorted softly. Indeed, they had. That was good, a bit of tension was good to wake them up from a long boring routine. She was glad she hadn't drawn that duty often in
Firefly
.

Captain Song of
Shepard
had transmitted the happy news that Nuevo Madrid had been taken. The ships had wrung with cheers for some time. He also passed on a warning that four frigates were expected at the jump point at any time.

“We're finally doing it. Finally getting some payback,” the XO said.

“Don't … don't jinx it,” Renee warned, holding a finger up in forewarning.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

---<>))))

Eighty-seven hours later the division settled into position relative to the Nuevo Madrid jump point zone. Like Admiral White she settled the force into a concave formation around the jump point, with the support ships further back and tucked out of the way. Her drag net wasn't as thick as the admiral's of course, but it should do some damage to anyone who jumped in without the proper IFF. “Now we wait,” Renee said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in front of her innocently.

“Should we jump to Nuevo Madrid, ma’am?” the XO asked, turning an eyestalk her way.

“I'm not going to push our luck. Besides,” Renee shrugged. “We could pass them coming here and not even know it. No, our orders specify meeting them here. We'll wait.” She smiled. “And since we are here, we can train some more … and keep an eye on the jump point in case anyone escapes the admiral's net.”

“Ah,” the XO said, signaling second degree appreciation.

“We'll stand the compliments of all of the ships down for a day. Minimum crew, we'll turn it into something of a holiday for all involved. Set up some activities for them, volleyball, competitions, etc. They've earned it.”

“Yes, ma’am, they have.” The XO had overseen the usual hijinks with crew members who had never crossed the hyper threshold before. There hadn't been many in the crew since over 95 percent had come from other star systems.

“Then we'll get back to training and checking the girl over to make sure we're ready for the next run.” The XO groaned, making her smile again. He knew what that meant, a top to bottom inspection. He'd have to put a quiet word in with the crew. It would mean some more scrambling for all involved before they had their holiday and more afterward to keep ahead of the skipper. Her white glove approach could be brutal. Renee grinned, knowing all of that was going through his mind. “Cheer up, Commander, consider that run a taste of what we'll be doing shortly, but this time with a lot more ships involved.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And we'll have plenty of targets to play with,” she said, voice dropping a bit. He studied her and then signaled first level assent again; this time more sober.

“Do you think the ships that are damaged will continue on mission, ma’am?” the XO asked carefully.

The captain frowned at the bug thoughtfully and then shrugged once more. “It depends on the level of damage I suppose. Most likely … if it is major, then no of course. They'll head back to Protodon at their best speed, and if the repair ships there can't make them right, then they'll head to Antigua for some love and attention in the repair yard.”

“Ah. Do you think if they do go to Antigua the admiralty will swap them? I mean stick them in another ship instead of rebuilding them first?” the XO asked carefully.

The captain's frown deepened as she noted the wary interest from the bridge crew. Every crew was loyal to their ship. The idea of just swapping them out was anathema to their thinking. She made a note to bring it up quietly to one or more of the flag officers if the opportunity ever arose. “I suppose it depends on the ship I guess,” she said slowly, “and the damage. Most likely no, but judging from my
last
experience I am realizing that is a gut reaction. Hopefully we're not in a throw-away ship period,” she drawled.

“Yes, ma’am. I just got used to this baby. I don't want to have to break in another anytime soon,” the XO said, touching one of the consoles with his upper lobster-like claws.

“Even if you are in the hot seat?” the captain teased. The XO clacked his mandibles and swiveled his eyestalks in amusement. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me. You'll do fine when you do get there.”

“I know I still have a lot to learn,” he admitted.

“On that note,” she said with a grin as she pulled up a tactical exercise. He groaned, rolling his eyestalks heavenward for strength. “Well, you did
ask
for it,” she teased wickedly.

“Yes, ma’am, I suppose I did. Me and my big mouth,” he growled. His mandibles fluttered uselessly. He looked over to the Veraxin manning the tactical station, then to others around the compartment. They weren't going to be bored he thought. Not for long.

She snorted. “Just think of it as a way to keep busy while furthering your own career designs,” she said wickedly. “That is, if you survive,” she added with a gleam.

“Oh, one of
those
,” he said sitting up straight on his saddle.

“You know me. I do like to keep things interesting … and certain people on their toes,” the captain replied in a lighthearted banter tone. He was glad to hear it, even though he knew the tortuous test to come would strain him. He'd learned that the skipper wasn't known for gimmies; she always had a twist, always had to make you work for it. “Why don't you take a team over to CIC, and we'll dual it out,” she said with a nod.

“Aye aye, ma’am,” he replied dutifully, rising from his saddle.

---<>))))

Ten days after they set up on the jump point the quartet of frigates jumped into the star system. “Going somewhere?” Captain Mayweather asked as the ships attempted to flee. Her ships had just finished buttoning up to the sound of the battle station klaxons. “Comm, raise them. Order them to cut their drives, heave to, power down their weapons and prepare to be boarded. If they attempt to fire …”

She was cut off when one of the frigates fired on her closest destroyer.

“Get that order out. Tactical, fire at will,” she ordered.

“Aye aye, ma’am!” the tactical officer said. A moment later the destroyer fired back, thundering into the nearest pair of frigates. Both ignited like moths flying into a fire.

Ninety-two seconds later the final two frigates were torn apart by the concentrated firepower of the force.

“Like swatting a quartet of bugs.”

“Good. Dispatch the Search and Rescue shuttles now. Away the gig with an intel team to see what scraps they can pick up. Status check on all ships. Usual post battle chores. Good work, people. Stand down to yellow alert,” the captain ordered.

“Aye aye, ma’am,” the XO stated.

---<>))))

TF22 returned triumphantly to B95a3 with her damaged ships and fleet train at their center. They translated down from hyperspace from the second octave of Gamma band four and a half weeks after translating out of Nuevo Madrid space.

There was some consternation when they saw the ships there to meet them. IFF calls immediately went out as the ships scrambled to battle stations.
Shizouka's
navigator, First Lieutenant Blackpaw, had seen the hyper translation. Since she had the graveyard watch, she had ordered her ship to battle stations while also ordering the comm ratings to broadcast their IFF on a loop.

Her actions were fortuitous in preventing a friendly fire incident. By the time Captain Mayweather had gotten dressed and arrived on the bridge, they had positively identified TF22.

“Captain on the bridge,” the duty rating intoned, coming to attention.

“As you were. I've got the Con,” Renee said. “Status?” she asked, taking her seat from the Neobear. The request was a formality; she'd already received an update and running status report through her implants.

“TF22 has arrived, ma’am.”

“I see that,” she said mildly, smiling. “Still think the graveyard shift is boring, Mackie?” she asked, eying the bear.

“No, ma’am,” the black bear replied with a shake of her head. After a moment she stretched. “But I admit it did scare the bejeebers out of me.”

“I bet you'll never relax on the shift again so easily,” the captain teased wickedly as her Veraxin XO came in and took his saddle near her. “Ready, number one?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. She noted he'd taken the time to dress in his skinsuit, something that wasn't all that easy to do in a hurry with a Veraxin. She nodded once.

“Comm, open a channel. Let's see what they have to say for themselves,” she intoned.

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

---<>))))

“Sir, we've gotten a IFF. It's confirmed, sir, the
Shizouka's
division with additional reinforcements, sir,” the comm rating said.

“I see,” the admiral said, sitting up straight. “Well! They certainly gave us a bit of a scare,” he said, eying Garfield. “Any problems getting to battle stations?”

The orange Neocat shook his head. “No, sir. By now Captain Valdez's team has it down to a science of course, sir. The real problem came when we damn near fired on them,” he replied wryly.

“Good to know. Let's not get any itchy trigger fingers please.”

“No, sir,” the Neocat replied. “I'd hate to do that.”

“I would to. The court martials would be a pain in the ass … and the paperwork is a bitch, trust me,” the Neochimp replied, only half in jest.

“Sir, we're getting a comm request from
Shizouka
,” Jojo said.

“Put her on,” the admiral said as he noted a new tag CIC had reported. “Are those debris clouds?” he asked, pointing to a couple clouds of wreckage drifting thirteen million kilometers away.

“Yes, sir,” Renee replied, surprising him. He turned to her image. She smiled. “We caught a quartet of frigates jumping into the star system. They were stupid enough not to surrender. They tried to run and well, you know the old saw …” she shrugged.

The Neochimp nodded. “Indeed I do.” His lips twitched. “Good to know they didn't get far Captain. Thank you.”

She nodded in reply, fairly preening. “Yes, sir.”

“And it's good to see you've got another command deck under you,” Amadeus replied, eying her. “Let's try to keep this one intact for a while longer,” he said severely.

“I'll try. But I understand we're going into harm's way, so no promises, sir,” she said. “We're a warship and getting hurt and dishing out pain comes with the job.”

“Yes, indeed it does,” the admiral replied, noting her resolve and serene-like attitude. She hadn't quite put
Firefly
behind her; he could see the ghosts in her eyes. But she was ready to move on. He nodded again. Fair enough. She was a good enough tactician for him to give her a second chance.

“I've got our logs for you, sir.”

“Very well,” the admiral said with a nod. “We'll exchange notes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I suppose I better fire off a courier to Protodon alerting them of our status. I don't suppose you have any other news?”

“Some minor, sir. No new attacks to report,” she replied simply.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Well! That's good to know. Good,” he said with a stiff nod. “Very good. Let's get the paperwork flowing.”

“Aye aye, sir. We made good time. My engineers may even forgive me for pushing this lady so hard so quickly out of the yard. But she held up like a trooper, sir. The yard dogs do good work.”