Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (105 page)

He rolled his brown eyes. “Ye gods, woman! Don't tell them that! They are insufferable enough as it is!” he replied mockingly.

She wasn't the only one to chuckle at that retort.

“Well then. We need to meet up once things settle down. I'll have a captain's dinner tomorrow evening since it is so late now. Bring your XO and tactical team, they can hook up with Captain Vargess's team and get started integrating your command into the squadron.”

“Yes, sir,” Renee replied dutifully. “We certainly have a lot to learn.”

“That you do, Captain, that you do,” the admiral murmured.

---<>))))

Twenty-six days after entering hyperspace,
Prowler UFN-001P
exited hyperspace two million kilometers short of the B-97a jump zone, just shy of the heliopause of the star system. Once the jump field cleared, their passive sensors immediately reported a problem of epic proportions bearing down on them from the other side of the jump zone. Dozens of warships were there, many drifting at what appeared to be a deep space anchorage, but the readings on other ships closer to them told a different story.

The approaching Sword Fleet instantly changed things and not for the better. Before they had a hard count, the captain realized they were too close to get across the star system safely. Not with that many concentrated eyes so close to them. Some of the destroyers had already oriented on them and were bearing down on their position. They'd been at a relative rest near the jump point so they had a few minutes before they got up to speed, but he was aware that once they were underway his ship would have only minutes before they were inside the enemy's missile envelope.

“
Whu sheeet
,” a rating drawled in a small high pitched voice. The captain turned to Juma, and then snorted at the guy's wide-eyed expression.

“My sentiments exactly. They know we're here, obviously since we jumped out only a few light hours from them. Now …”

“It's going to take time for the hyperdrive to recharge, sir,” Spooky warned.

“I know that. I'm just on the horns of a dilemma here. Do we go back and warn someone? Or do we follow our orders and soldier on?”

“The fleet will undoubtedly pass them in hyper, sir,” the A.I. replied.

“Like ships sailing through the night,” the skipper murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

“But that isn't necessarily what we want here. If they get to Protodon, everything there will be hard-pressed to fend that much fire power off.”

“Sir, the pickets in B95a3 will warn them,” the A.I. stated.

“Yes, but if we race ahead of them, I bet we still have the speed advantage here,” the captain mused. “We can get to B97a or even B95a3 and stop Admiral White. He can then decide to fight them there or retreat. And once we get word to him he will undoubtedly use a courier to whistle up more help once it gets to Protodon.”

The A.I. nodded. The captain had to look closely to see the movement. Spooky's silly white sheet ghost costume avatar was a pain in the ass sometimes. “And from there Admiral Irons can send in whatever reinforcements he wishes.”

“A battle royale. And we'd be on the sidelines watching it unfold,” the skipper said, slapping his hands together and then rubbing them. “Helm, nav, back us off nice and slow. Let's get that hyperdrive back online and recharged. We've got a date.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

---<>))))

“Sir, we've received a CIC update. The ship that jumped in is now spooling up her hyperdrive to jump back out,” Catherine stated, standing in the admiral's cabin.

“And we can't catch them in time?”

“No, sir. They jumped well short of the jump zone.”

“So we're confirming it is a Federation ship? A scout?”

“That is the assumption right now, sir. I think it is correct. The ship hasn't squawked an IFF and is now attempting to escape.”

“Not a civilian?” the admiral said, coming out as he dried his hair. His uniform was open to his waist. She could see the gray chest fur he had. He had a pretty good six pack she judged. When he looked at her, her eyes snapped to the bulkhead. “It is a possibility, sir, but unlikely.”

“Why?”

“They are spooling up fast. I don't like to believe in coincidence, sir.”

The admiral frowned as he looked at the LCD with the status board. He stared at it as if he could dredge some sort of additional understanding or insight out of it before he finally nodded. “Me neither I suppose. We'll have to be cautious on our exit then.”

“Yes, sir. Should we send our own scout?”

“An interesting idea. I'm wondering if we have time myself,” the admiral said.

“Sir?”

“Judging from the mass readings, this ship is small. Most likely a scout as we know, but not one of the light cruisers they were using as a picket in B95a3.”

Catherine glanced down at her tablet in her hands and then up. “Yes, sir.”

“So, that tells me they have that ship in production, even if limited production. Since we can't get a good read on it even at this distance, and she's here and they aren't, that tells me something is going on in B95a3, possibly in Nuevo Madrid.”

“It doesn't bode well for Admiral Frost,” Catherine said, catching on. “Since they wouldn't be scouting here if they hadn't already done so there,” she said.

“Exactly,” the admiral said as he buttoned his shirt. “So, we may be too late to save them. But, we still have a duty to perform.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Assemble the staff. We'll need to rethink our next few jumps, taking a more cautious approach. Broach the scout idea with the others and bounce it around. I want opinions and options when I get there.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“You've got twenty minutes. Best get it done then, Commander.”

“Aye aye, sir,” she said. She nodded once, about-faced and took off at a trot through the opening hatch. Suddenly the mission wasn't a slam dunk anymore. Suddenly she didn't like the odds shifting out of her favor.

That meant they would have to do something to fix that.

She just wasn't certain what sort of rabbit they were going to be able to pull out of a proverbial hat this late. If any at all, but she was determined to try.

---<>))))

With
Shizouka's
division on hand and news that additional forces were in the pipeline, Admiral White had no qualms about sending
Maine
,
Osborne
,
Bainbridge
, and
Justice
back for proper repairs. The damage on the other ships had been handled, and they were holding steady at above 90 percent.

Instead of sending a courier with news of his arrival in B95a3, he loaded the four ships up with their remaining wounded, performing a careful swap to draw off the necessary replacements from the wounded ship's crews, then sent them on their way. Hopefully John would skim off replacement forces from First Fleet to make up their loss the moment they got into Protodon so he wouldn't have to be kept waiting for them to return.

He made certain Kyle had the resupply mission off to a good start before he turned his attention to other matters. Kelly was still neck deep in processing the POW statements and the databases they had recovered. Both had been sent back with the departing ships, but the computer databases had been cloned.

Hopefully she'd tease some bits of intelligence out of the mess. Hopefully.

He then had his staff and the various bridge crews settle down into a series of exercises slated to last no more than two weeks before they launched their next offensive. They had a date with the Prowler to meet up. He was already running late, but he knew he needed the time to get the new blood up to speed. He had to begrudge the time, though he fully intended to keep to that 2-week self-imposed deadline.

Come hell or high water they were going to going to go on the offensive once more. Nothing was going to stand in their way he thought with a mental snarl. It was past time to end the pirate threat once and for all.

Chapter
64

Admiral Cartwright, praetor of the navy, rose as the prime minister entered his office. “My lord,” he said, nodding and shaking the man's hand. “A drink?”

“Perhaps I shall,” the prime minister said with a tight nod. “It has been a rather trying day,” he admitted, taking a seat as the admiral poured them each a drink. He knew the duke's tastes so he made it a double.

“The Senate has been unruly?”

“No more than usual. There has been talk about renaming the body as the House of Lords since so many are now lords and ladies. It is a silly distraction from what truly matters,” the prime minister said, taking his drink from the praetor. He took a sip and then set it down on the desk cozy in front of him.

“And what problem is that, sir?” the praetor asked, taking a seat next to the man.

“You know every well what is going on. The Federation is bad enough, drawing down the forces defending the frontier … and then there is the ruling families at each other throats; that certainly isn't helping in the least,” the large man said gruffly.

“I see,” the praetor said, swirling his drink. He took another sip, inducing the prime minister to do the same. When they were finished, he sat back, attempting to relax or at least put on a good semblance of relaxation.

“We can get to the redeployments in a moment I suppose. I know you have … voiced some concerns,” he said.

The duke nodded hard. The admiral grimaced slightly. He was already getting flak from his intelligence chief, Vice Admiral Newberry. She was a Countess of Garth and not at all happy about the draw down there.

The Horathian court had become decidedly interesting once the Empire had been launched during this, the next phase of their grand plan. He now had his doubts about it all. He was careful, ever so careful though not to voice them. Ever voice them, he thought privately to himself. Never ever.

Political pressure, mostly from the Duke but also starting to come from other concerned parties was starting to mount over the recall of ships from Garth, Dead Drop, and other star systems in the path of the Federation. It bothered him as well, but he kept reminding himself of Admiral De Gaulte's mission. They should do a good job of ending the threat … or at least slowing it down.

But others weren't seeing it that way. They just saw the ships going out and not coming back. They saw the lists, the growing lists of the dead. It didn't help that his family and the Rico family had been tarnished by the losses.

He frowned briefly, looking down at his drink.

In order to spare ruling military families from a fallout of their own people's past mistakes in handling the Federation seedling, Earl Gaston Gumel had been spared a court martial and probable execution once he had returned to the homeworld. Instead he had been allowed to resign his commission in disgrace and retire to his family's holdings off world. Far off world where he could keep out of the public eye for a long time if he was smart.

“You know about the latest courier of course?” the prime minister asked.

“Of course,” the admiral replied. “It is … bad I admit. I honestly don't know of any other way to put it.”

“Bad is putting it mildly. I don't know who you have in command of your ships. Utter morons it seems like these days. And we need the best!” the prime minister snarled.

The praetor looked up into the man's eyes. “Do have a care. Some of them were quite good. They were caught up in the works. They yes, made mistakes. But I am more concerned about what we can do about it, not pointing fingers,” he said quietly.

The prime minister saw that he'd pushed the praetor a little further than intended. He grunted. “I stand corrected,” he said stiffly, looking down at his own drink.

“I realize that the news is not good. That is why we are considering a strategic shift. I am aware you aren't completely in favor of it,” the admiral stated diplomatically. Not in favor of it was not quite accurate but close. The duke like most of the ruling families had gained his power and fortune from the prize money his ancestors had brought in during their time in the Gather Fleet. Cutting off that flow, especially now when the Empire was paying such a premium for the products brought in, was already causing waves of discontent throughout the lords.

It was also hitting the officer core, Malwin reminded himself. There were those who looked to the prize money as a means to make a name for themselves, a means to earn riches. Now they were taking that away. They had to do it carefully lest they create resentment for those who had already gained from the practice.

They would have to structure the withdrawal of resources so that it would be seen as a necessary withdrawal, or perhaps a temporary one until the current crisis was resolved. Otherwise fingers would be pointed to those who had money and power by those who didn't. They would accuse them of oppressing them … and they'd be right. Now that the Empire was being launched the ruling families didn't want any more competition.

But it was only a small part of the plan. “The old plan of having the Gather Fleet continue its mission may no longer be viable,” he said carefully, “for many reasons. For instance, the Gather Fleet is tremendously inefficient, undisciplined, and wasteful. It has also been using hardware of marginal efficiency. Hardware and resources we need here or in places like Garth. Ship transit time is limited to the upper octaves of alpha, or at best the low octaves of Beta band. And then there is the cost and time needed to ship the prize material home!” he shook his head. “Now if we throw in this Federation blocking off most of our routes to the Tau, Pi, and other sectors …,” he shook his head.

“So what is your point?”

“The admiralty is considering a plan to bring in and integrate them into the proper fleet. To phase the gathering fleet out over the next decade. That will add small amounts of ships to the fleet, none larger than a heavy cruiser, but it will be … helpful,” the praetor said.

“Helpful,” the prime minister echoed. He paused to lean forward and pick up his glass. He sat back with it, looking into its icy depths before he took a drink. “You say helpful.”

“You have to admit, the gathers aren't of much use with
El Dorado.
”

“Oh, I know that. But they did find
El Dorado
in the first place. Never forget that,” the prime minister replied. The praetor nodded sagely. “And they serve their purpose by destabilizing existing civilization such as it is. The capture of shipping allows us to deny that same shipping and equipment to our enemies.”

“Yes, I know this. And I also know that the gathers act as our eyes and ears alongside the intelligence ships. That they can serve as a fast reaction force to nip something before it becomes a potential threat. We all know how that turned out so well right in our own backyard, now don't we?” the praetor said, voice dripping with acid. It was the prime minister's turn to acknowledge the point. He did so with a slight nod.

“We in the admiralty cannot afford to divert hulls to the Gather Fleet. So, eventually they will waste away anyway. What I am proposing is to bring them into the fold, to bring their ships and crews up to modern standards. Then to use them as needed.”

“Use them as needed?” the prime minister asked with a raised eyebrow.

“As reinforcements to pickets that have been drawn down for instance,” the praetor said, knowing he was hitting a sore point with the duke. The duke was still nettled over the loss of ships in Garth. Admiral De Gaulte hadn't taken as many as he had feared, but any loss was a blow to the prime minister's prestige. And with the Federation pounding a path towards them, he was concerned for the safety of his holdings on the planet.

He had good cause to be concerned; the Federation was moving faster than they'd like. He had even more cause since the admiralty had started to withdraw the ships in Dead Drop and Garth for refit. Those ships weren't going back once they were finished either. Some were going on to other assignments.

“We need to reinforce the ships in Dead Drop, not withdraw them,” the prime minister stated.

The praetor nodded. “We know this. It is one reason I want to draw on the Gather Fleet.”

“I see.”

“The Gather Fleet can also work as raiders and reinforcements,” the praetor stated.

“Back to the reinforcements,” the duke said, eying him severely. “When do we see reinforcements headed out? You are sucking ships in, but none are leaving.”

“We are considering a deployment of home-built corvettes and frigates,” the praetor offered, knowing his offer would be instantly rejected.

He could see the instinctive rejection in the other man's eyes. Not only rejection but outright indignation as his face began to color. The man should be careful with his reactions while under the influence the admiral thought.

Then again, his new implants helped him to see the thermal profile of his opponent rather handily.

“I was talking entire squadrons,” the praetor expanded. “Right now, we have two of each planned.”

“Two squadrons of each ship class designated for each star system? How generous of you,” the prime minister said sarcastically. “In exchange for the cruisers and destroyers already there?”

The praetor winced internally as he played with his own drink. He hadn't meant that. He had meant one squadron each. Now he was committed. But the other man was rejecting it anyway, so he would have to ante up even more he realized.

“Ahem, it was only the first part of the redeployment. Of course we were planning to send a munitions ship with mines to mine the jump points, additional couriers to keep in touch, and shipments of techs and equipment to the repair yard in Garth to bring them up-to-date.”

“Not enough,” the prime minister said coldly. “Not nearly enough.”

“His Majesty has ordered the cruisers home for refit, sir. We cannot deny that.”

“And you do not have the means to replace them?” the prime minister scowled, voice rising slightly in anger. “Perhaps the deployment of the Retribution Fleet was mistimed,” he said.

“If the Fleet does as it is supposed to, there will be no need for additional deployments. Hopefully this is a cautionary measure,” the praetor said.

“Hopefully,” the prime minister scoffed. He downed his drink and then set the glass down hard. “Wishful thinking,” he snarled. “I think we've had enough of that, don't you? It is past time we see reality before it smacks us in the face. We must have more ships!”

“My lord, if I had them to spare I would send them,” the praetor said, spreading his hands apart in supplication.

“Then find them. The Gather Fleet, whatever it takes then. But get me those ships!” the prime minister snarled as he rose and walked out of the room.

The praetor watched the other man go. He swirled his drink then downed it. “Well, that went well,” he murmured softly.

He knew there would be hell to pay over it. The prime minister was already becoming obstinate and troublesome. Something would have to be done to appease the man. He sighed heavily and then decided he'd have to go back over the numbers and ships to see if he could pry something loose, if only as a sop to the man's anger.

---<>))))

Emperor Ramichov read the report again and frowned thoughtfully. They had received news of Captain Post's disastrous battle in Protodon, and he didn't like it or the implications. Already some of the military families involved were either going to damage control or on the attack.

At the moment he didn't see that it was a good idea. Not that he intended to intervene of course. Their infighting left him to lord over them, outside the line of fire for the moment. As long as they were not united, they couldn't stand against him.

But the news … the news was indeed troubling. That two battle cruisers and their supports could be torn up as they had by a handful of destroyers and an escort carrier … that didn't bode well for the future. He frowned thoughtfully as the Count of Montycelo finished reading the report.

His boss was still tied up in meetings dealing with the Garth mess. That was an annoyance the emperor would have to put to bed personally. He didn't have time for the other man to sulk.

He needed to get over what had happened in Garth and move on.

He shook his head silently as the Deputy Prime Minister waited patiently. “You have a concern?” he finally asked. Best to get it over with he thought. The count seemed to shift a bit before he cleared his throat and nodded. “Then out with it,” the emperor ordered.

“You do realize that with our latest intelligence we could lose
another
fleet. And you could lose two of your children. Possibly
three
, sire,” Roland Markov, the Deputy Prime Minister warned, eying the man on the throne. “They have the full Federation tech basis and …” he cut himself off when the emperor raised a hand.

“First, I have every faith in Admiral De Gaulte getting the job done. Short of that, I have faith in his ability to recognize an untenable situation and withdraw while fighting.”

“But if he is trapped and can't withdraw, sire?” the count asked, eying him with concern etched in his expression and manner. Not all of it was feigned.

“Then he will go down fighting.”

“And your children? Your heirs? What about them?”