Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (28 page)

He slowly nodded.

---<>))))

Praetor Cartwright swilled his scotch as he looked at the fleet task force's distribution. He had known the emperor had been backed into a corner. He also saw the fine delicate hand behind it, Catherine, he thought, saluting her silently.

She had arranged the latest exercise schedule through a series of minor but important moves to allow
Executioner
to be refitted behind
Shen Long
and
Retribution
but ahead of
Theodore Roosevelt
.
Teddy
was an ancient
Republic
class dreadnaught, one that had been pulled from a museum during the last bitter stages of the Xeno war and pressed into service. She would need the longest overhaul.

Retribution
was the current flagship, at least until
Imperious
got out of the yard. That meant she and her division mate
Shen Long
were out of the running to lead the show.
Teddy's
longtime division mate, the battleship
Executor,
was off as the flagship of the
El Dorado
fleet. And
Star Mauler
had followed her division mate
Executioner
into refit.

Teddy
was ancient; she should be scrapped she thought, studying her apple and peeling line critically. But they kept every ship. She was a dinosaur but she still had sharp teeth to go with her plodding pace. She was glad she'd gotten off that ship though. Three months of hell she thought with a shiver.

In fact, her timing couldn't have gone much better since
Star Mauler
had just gotten past her working-up exercises. Each of the other ships had admirals of sufficient rank but many of them were related to past failures. He was fairly certain the emperor had wanted fresh eyes on the problem. Fresh eyes and the mind of their best strategist. Someone completely and utterly loyal to the throne who wouldn't fall for the schemes of the princess and her siblings, hence Admiral De Gaulte.

But he'd surprised his admirals by selecting the first battle cruiser squadron as well and thrown caution to the wind by allowing ships of his other two sons to go along as well. He smiled as he took a sip of the scotch. Melwin was aware of other machinations that had gone on behind the scenes as various prominent families had pulled or pushed their people into the mix.

The task force was more than a hammer; it was a crucible, a dangerous mix of volatiles.

He was glad he wasn't going along for the ride but wished he could be a fly on the wall he thought with a small cruel smile.

---<>))))

Admiral De Gaulte stared at what could possibly be the greatest campaign of his career. In truth, the only one, for he'd never led such a large force. Only Admiral Post had led a larger force outside of Home Fleet, and that had several years ago to secure the
El Dorado
star system.

Eight capital ships, his dreadnaught division leading the first battle cruiser squadron. To back them up they had the fleet carrier
Nimitz
, Crueron's 2 and 5, along with DD squadrons 6, 7, and 8. Forty-eight warships in total, some of them rather famous. All a mixed bag of classes though. No frigates, corvettes or smaller craft since they didn't have the legs or speed to keep up with the big boys.

Technically, Fourth Fleet equaled him in size, at least in warships. But numbers were deceiving. Fourth Fleet had been divided into individual pairings or small task forces split over all four sectors. Each group had its own tender or fleet train to shepherd as well. They also had nothing bigger than a heavy cruiser in their numbers, where he had eight capital ships. Nine if you included the carrier he thought.

But he was tied down to the speed of his slowest units, the fleet train, another dozen ships to keep his forces supplied and maintained. Well, with five couriers to also keep them in contact he thought. He'd had to argue himself blue in the face to get them. He had a sneaking suspicion they were going to be critical.

He'd sent one courier out ahead of the force to scout at their best speed and to alert Admiral Frost in Nuevo Madrid to expect his passing through the area. The crew were to deliver the news, then get a SITREP download and then return to meet him in the B-97a star system.

He knew some of the arm-chair strategists at the admiralty had second thoughts about his overall plan. That was their problem. He's considered his two plains of attack and settled on the lesser of the bad options available.

For one thing, going to Protodon would relieve the
Massachusetts
division while also opening the door for any Fourth Fleet assets coming that way. It would also relieve Nuevo Madrid of the threat of potential attack while giving him a potential repair base in his rear.

Second, it was a direct route to Antigua, though he wasn't certain he would take that path. It depended on the intelligence they gathered along the way and what sort of resistance they ran into in Protodon. If Captain Post's reports were accurate, that meant they'd shipped in hundreds of tons of material. No, thousands he thought—tons of mines, weapon platforms, supplies, and munitions. There was no telling what they had added since his departure. And if Protodon was defended at that level after only a few months, it meant Antigua and Pyrax were even more heavily defended.

The admiralty had seen that and had opened the door to go the southwestern route to B101a1 with the eventual intention of attacking Pyrax directly. But that wouldn't have helped Fourth Fleet or Nuevo Madrid and would have taken him almost a year to get there. He also would have been assaulting into Pyrax into the teeth of well-prepared defenses with no intelligence at all.

He was glad they had seen things his way. Taking risks was one thing; an officer had to be a gambler. But you didn't have to be stupid or reckless about it. The emperor had entrusted him to do the job, and he meant to do it
right
.

He just wished they'd given him more forces.

He wasn't happy that the battle cruiser squadron was light. A division was still working through their refit cycle and couldn't make the movement. No matter. He had orders to pass by
Nevada
and
Massachusetts
, but he had no intention of following them. He was going to be the man in the field, which meant he was expected to show initiative and use his discretion, nor in allowing Fourth Fleet to pass by either if he could help it. He planned on picking them up and adding their strength to his own while sending their ill-gotten gains back alone and if necessary, unguarded. He didn't give a damn about damaged ships. They had a factory ship and a pair of tenders they'd make just about anything right.

He shook his head. There were eight flag officers including himself on the mission. Granted, the DD squadrons were led by commodores, but he was glad he had the support even though he was aware of the potential for politics and infighting on the mission.

They'd better keep it damn well under control or heads would roll, he thought darkly.

---<>))))

Commander Ramichov fought to keep her face an expressionless mask as duty required as she stood at parade rest behind her admiral. The flag bridge was filled with the admiral's staff. They watched as the newly designated task force Sword of Retribution made its way to the jump point.

“I still wish they hadn't waited until the last minute. We're going to need a lot of time to shake down. And this harum-scarum throw it all together? Not draw the same units together?” Admiral De Gaulte growled.

“We'll work it out, sir. And you'll crack the whip to make sure we do,” his chief of staff Berney said soothingly.

“Harrumph. Damn right I will!” the admiral said, stroking his mustache and muttonchops.

The operations commander hardly noticed them. One corner of her mind kept tabs on their conversation but her attention wandered to the list of ships. There, there was her brother's battle cruiser. And there, there was Joesph’s Marine transport, and Mason's ship as well. Four of them! She thought. Was her father insane? Or was he gambling on them all being taken out? After all, he still had the other two safe at home … she frowned inwardly.

They would each jockey for the most glory, of that she was certain. She was also aware that she would have to watch her siblings carefully. Not just watch them but also members of the other ruling families. It was why she had a tap on Lieutenant Commander Sedric Lovato's intel shop. He was more focused on external intelligence processing however.

He was a fool then. Now was the perfect opportunity for someone to do something foolish and dangerous. Untested ships entering hyper going to war? She shook her head mentally. With so many variables in play, it was a surprise that the ruling families had allowed so many of their blood to go at all!

Perhaps, like her they saw a common enemy? Not just in her and her brothers, but in the Federation as well? Perhaps she thought with a small nod. And perhaps not. Perhaps they too were biding their time.

“Well! We didn't have enough time to exercise properly in home space. But we know each other's strengths and weaknesses I suppose,” the admiral droned on.

“Or we did, sir. The ships have been significantly improved,” Catherine reminded him politely.

He turned to eye her and then nodded. “Indeed. One of the difficulties we shall face, the unknown there. We'll need time transiting each star system to work up as much as we can then.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And no touchy, feel-good exercises either!” he growled, eyes flaring. He held up a stern but gnarled finger. “We will have proper exercises. Ones that will test our people. We shall burn off the chaff and leave the pure metal behind. Then I shall pound and temper it until it is the right forged sword to do the job.”

“Yes, sir. It's going to be a lot of work. We can plan and do internal exercises in hyper of course,” Berney said.

“That we can. And we can come up with individual exercises for the other ships so the next jump they too have something to work on. We can compare the results when we get out in Dead Drop I suppose,” the admiral said.

Commander Berney nodded.

“In the meantime,” the admiral said, eying Catherine. “Cat, do be a good woman and select an appropriate scenario. Plug in the latest intel from Sedric, and let's see what we can do with it,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Catherine said, glad she was being put to work and not allowed to dwell any further on the risks they were taking. She took her seat and began tapping at her keyboard, pulling up the intel from Sedric's files and then loading a simulation into the flag computers. “We know from the latest reports that the enemy had at least one squadron of destroyers in Protodon, sir. Now, if we take worst case and upgraded that threat based on what we've seen of their production so far …”

Chapter
16

Newly promoted Junior Captain Harris eyed the young Lieutenant Commander Samantha Jurgison with more than a bit of badly disguised envy as they finished the last docking procedure. Sam was good; she'd been one of his best tactical students at the academy and later in the advanced courses. But he wasn't sure if she realized she was in over her head or not. Probably not, knowing her. She seemed star struck and rather enamored by her command he thought sourly. She had every right to be. He tried to take her good fortune gracefully. It was hard though.

It was partially his fault. If he'd hung about, been a tad less gung ho about getting into combat and earning his spurs again, he would have been in Pyrax and gotten
Lady Liberty
. Now … he sighed mentally.

“You made great time,” he said mildly, to keep the small talk going. “Delta?”

She nodded. “Seventh octave the entire way here, sir. Three and a half days to cross the star systems. We hauled ass and didn't even stop to say hi at Agnosta or Kathy's World.”

“Hi, bye you mean,” Harris said, snorting.

“Well, we did transmit the mail we had for them while passing through. It kept the communication department busy to make sure they got the entire dump.”

“Good,” the acting commodore replied with a nod. “Still, two months …,” he whistled. They'd definitely hauled ass.

“March to the sound of the guns, sir,” she replied with a tight grin. He nodded. “I honestly thought we were going to have a problem on the last leg. Engineering was worried we'd picked up a harmonic, but they got it smoothed out,” she said. “She is a sweet ship. She held up like a trooper, sir.”

“Good! Settling in, Commander?” he asked mildly after he went through the traditional boarding ceremony. He tried not to sound too envious. He'd get his own capital ship eventually.

“Yes, sir, but I'm not sure I should be here,” she said softly as they walked down the corridor. Spacers were at work, either going about their business or still grinding down the rough edges of the ship.

“How is that?” Harris asked, turning his head to her.

“I admit I've wanted a command for a while. And I thought I did okay with
Diamyo
and
Cheeser
just fine. But
Cheeser
was a corvette, and
Diamyo
was a frigate I had for all of ten months. Frankly, sir, I think they just needed a warm body, and I was there at the right time.”

“Worried you are getting a little too big for your britches, Samantha?” Harris asked in amused sympathy.

“Other way around actually, sir,” she replied. She nodded in passing to a couple of ratings who looked up as they passed her. “I'd give you the tour but …”

“But we're both busy. I've got to download your dispatches and files. We've got a shuttle to catch at 1400 hours to go meet Admiral White and his staff. I believe the admiral's looking forward to meeting you.”

“Um, about that. I realize I might be his flag officer too. And well …,” Samantha's expression changed to a mask as they entered the lift behind a pair of ratings.

“It's a beautiful ship, Captain,” Harris said politely. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the slight smile of approval from the rating off to his left.

“Why thank you, Captain. I mean, Commodore,” Samantha replied with a slight pucker of her lips. He caught the look and snorted. Tradition dictated that there could be only one captain on a ship, so she'd given him the courtesy promotion. He was fairly confident it wouldn't be just a courtesy promotion in a couple more years.

Once they got to her rather spacious wardroom, Harris looked around before he set his cap down on the table. “Okay, Sam, out with it,” he said in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

That stiffened her spine, just like it had intended. “I know I'm in over my head. I also know this command should rightfully go to you, sir. With respect …,” he grimaced. “With respect, sir, I think I should transfer. Get a bit more time under my belt on a smaller command deck before I tackle the big leagues.”

“Overwhelmed?” Harris asked, eying her.

She rolled her eyes. “Just a bit. It's …,” she shrugged helplessly. “This place is huge! I mean, massive!” She spread her arms wide. He nodded thoughtfully as he looked around the spacious room. It was twice the size of the wardroom in his precious
Damocles
. Fitting he thought. “The crew compliment is insane! I can't be everywhere at once, and the ship handling characteristics are so different!”

“But you love the firepower,” Harris replied, fingertips stroking the wood inlay. It had to be fake, most likely replicated. Nice touch though, with the wood grain. Different when you spent your time looking at bulkheads, hatches, and such. He was surprised that the people in the yards had bothered. You'd think with the rush to get the ships commissioned as fast as possibly they would have passed on the frills.

Of course
Lady Liberty
had been laid down by Horatio years ago, he reminded himself. He nodded mentally. Horatio might have been the one behind it then.

“I … yes. I've realized it's not like the simulators. Getting to know everyone … I liked handling the smaller ships, but I wanted bigger. The paperwork! Ye gods of space! I swear, they weren't kidding about the navy floating on the stuff!” He chuckled at that. “But recently, I was exploring a transfer to carrier command.”

“Carrier command?” he asked, turning in surprise to look directly at her.

She nodded. “Yes, sir. I …,” she blushed slightly. “I'm engaged to a jock. He's a fighter pilot in Third Fleet, a squadron commander. A damn good one with his eye to a CAG posting on a fortress or ship soon.”

“So you two can't serve on the same ship together or in the same chain of command. You realize that, right?” Harris asked softly, trying to soften the blow he was giving her.

She winced anyway. “I know that, sir. But … I was doing a lot of sim stuff with him. I'm not into fighters, but I did like being on the command deck and directing them, at least in theory.”

“It's harder than it looks, Sam,” Harris cautioned. “A carrier skipper doesn't direct them. He or she,” he indicated her. “Manage the ship. The CAG manages the wing. They have to work together though.”

She nodded quickly. “I know. That's why you have good subordinates to handle that part. I can handle the ship.”

Slowly Harris nodded.

“So, what do you propose?” he asked after a long moment.

She squirmed. “A transfer?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “A swap
might
work. I think Captain Vargess wouldn't mind it. I think Admiral White might prefer it in fact.”

“Captain Vargess, sir?
Not
you?” Sam asked, eyes wide.

Harris grimaced. “He's senior to me. And he's not comfortable on the carrier according to the scuttlebutt I've been hearing. He also has a lot more experience than I do. Don't get me wrong; I wouldn't mind it. But it's not up to me or you for that matter. But you realize putting in for a transfer could negatively affect your career?” he studied her for a moment. “The navy is a bit peculiar when it notes an officer thinks they are in over their head. They tend to agree with them and
never
again give them a chance at the same command.”

She winced again, harder this time, then dropped her gaze. “I know,” she finally said, quiet, almost sad. “But I think it's the right thing for this ship, for her crew, and for the mission, sir.”

“I'll take it to Admiral White. In the meantime, you'd better brief me.”

She looked up and nodded as they pulled the chairs out. “Very well, sir. Most of it I can save for the staff meeting this evening, right?” He nodded. “Fine then, the high and low points …”

---<>))))

“So, you are going along with this, sir?” Lieutenant Jojo Pwaulli asked, eying her admiral. She had been surprised by the transfer request and a bit dismayed. She hadn't served with Sam, but she had taken a course with her when she'd been a plebe. Captain Harris's support had also been surprising, thought she chalked that up to possible ulterior motives on his part.

Admiral White turned to look speculatively at the Neochimp flag lieutenant, then away. She was good and getting better. But she was starting to get a little too familiar, a little too uppity in some regards. He wasn't certain if he'd have to prune her back a bit. Possibly.

“And this is …?”

“The transfer request.”

He nodded once. “Oh, definitely. I'm glad the respective parties brought it up on their own initiative. Despite the possible detriment to their careers. Or threat of a black mark. It's refreshingly honest really. It also saves me the trouble of busting her down and replacing her myself.”

She blinked once at him. “I see, sir,” she said in a slightly astringent tone.

He shook his head. “She was never going to hold the command long. Hell if I was going to have someone promoted to lieutenant commander four months ago in command of one of my most powerful ships when I've got officers with ten times her seniority and polishing handling
destroyers
.”

“Understood, sir.” She didn't sound too enthused or supportive though.

“No one has to like it. In this case, they do, so drop it. The transfer is approved. I know Trojan will be happy to get off of
Admiral Halsey's
command deck.”

Jojo nodded as she settled down. “That he will, sir. He's made occasional noises about taking her when he shouldn't have. Wistful about getting back to a
real
ship.”

“He's battle line through and through,” Amadeus observed with a slight smile of approval. “So am I to tell you the truth. But we're hammers in this, and we need a rapier, or so the current thinking is saying.”

“Back home you mean, sir?”

“Yes.” The Neochimp grimaced as he tugged on his left ear. He was of two minds about fighting a carrier war. In one, it made sense. They could certainly make fighters and barges faster than a true capital ship. They could also afford the losses in combat, however painful they might be. The idea of trading a couple pilots for a warship was appealing to the number crunchers; he knew that. But he knew they wouldn't be able to hit everything. Again, they were the right tool for some situations, but not all. Eventually you had to wade in and hit and get hit. That was all there was to it.

“Still, his experience on the carrier should come in valuable when it comes time to handle
Lady Liberty's
fighter compliment, sir,” Jojo said, rolling on and oblivious to his distraction.

“Eh? Yes, yes,” he waved such considerations off. “Get the transfer approval through the ansible to Admiral Irons ASAP. I don't want any mix-ups with the paperwork. Since it's my command, they can start moving now under my authority.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I'm of two minds about the skipper of
Freedom
. He hasn't stepped down. I'd like Harris there, as my flag captain, but I'd also like Harris to command the destroyer screen. Especially if I have to leave it behind to mind the store here while I take
Halsey
,
Freedom
,
Liberty
, and some of the other ships off on this Nuevo Madrid raid we're planning.”

Jojo nodded thoughtfully. “It's a thought, sir. He is the third senior most officer in Second Fleet, sir.”

“I know.” He played with his lip, considering the situation from various angles. He was fairly confident Harris wanted the command, probably badly. And he deserved it too. But he had to see it from another angle. He had to see it from who would be left in charge in Protodon once he pulled out every major warship. Harris had a pretty stellar reputation as a strategist at the academy according to his file. He was curious if the man could handle it in real life—handle defending the star system. They might have to find out. At least he'd have the ansible to draw on for help if needed.

Moving Trajan to
Lady Liberty
wasn't without its own headaches.
Lady Liberty
was supposed to be his flagship, which meant his second most capable and senior officer was now in the same ship with him. Not necessarily a bad thing per say, but it meant he wasn't elsewhere leading a squadron or division. It was why he was hesitating on moving Harris over to
Freedom
. He needed someone with some seniority and skill to handle the first destroyer squadron. But then again, with the two battle cruisers finally on station that meant he would have to release the damaged ships like
Damocles
to go back to Antigua for final repairs anyway, so he'd lose Harris's services that way too. He'd get him back eventually, possibly in a larger ship, but …

“Give them a day to get sorted out, but not more than that. I want some shakedown exercises soon. In fact, start Harris on that, I want him to come up with some plans as the op force. He's good at that.”

The lieutenant bobbed a nod as she made a note. “Aye aye, sir.”

“Good. While he's on that, I want him to start going over plans for his division to rotate back to Antigua for repairs, then for his return. I want him to spend a bit of time on what to do once we're gone. Slip him a quite word about my current thinking is leaning towards having him handling the destroyer screen. Make it unofficial, but let me know how he reacts. I'm curious about what he'll do and how he'll handle the assignment.”