Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (30 page)

He hoped he was right about that.

Settling into
Lady Liberty's
flag accommodations had been easy, though after the long stint on
Yris'ka'th
he felt like he was rattling around in her vast chambers. His old flagship and
Damocles
were finally on their way back to Antigua for much needed yard quality time. There was only so much repairs they could do in the field; both ships needed their sublight drives taken out and rebuilt. He hadn't been able to afford the downtime since Protodon was considered the front line.

Harris had his promotion, and John had agreed to giving him Venezuela. Harris would have to transit to Pyrax, but he could probably use the downtime.

Technically
Damocles
should have gone to Pyrax as they'd first planned, but apparently John had other ideas for the ship. He shook his head. Just as long as he got another division of battle cruisers or a division of regular cruisers in return for the loss he'd be happy. He was fairly confident he wasn't going to get Harris back.

He was also aware that his time with Trajan were numbered. Since Renee hadn't covered herself in glory in Epsilon Triangula the plan on the B101a1 front had changed radically. Or, he thought, just the leaders responsible. The temptation to hand the command off to Horatio was strong, but Horatio had never led forces in combat. He'd stumbled a lot in training exercises as well, and he knew his limits. No, Horatio wasn't cut out for a ship or fleet command. He was a true engineering officer. He'd do fine wherever John sent him.

He'd been tempted to request Horatio's daughter, Commander Logan, as a potential BC skipper but she too had an engineering bent. She was a good XO and skipper, however, so he wouldn't hold it against her. And they needed engineers to rebuild after Epsilon Triangula he thought darkly.

His eyes turned to the image of the planet.

“Thinking deep thoughts, sir?” Jojo asked quietly.

He gave her a sidelong look and saw it returned. He shrugged slightly. “Just thanking Lady's Luck's little favors. If the bastards had done to Protodon as they had to Epsilon …”

She grimaced. “Well, one,” she held up a long finger. “They weren't planning on holding the star system for long—a year or more. Maybe longer if they could, but I doubt it. I'm betting they knew we were going to come in to bounce them out, which is my,” she held up a second finger. “second point. Three, they are sick bastards and had to get their jollies off it seems. Battering the planet, cowed the population into submission … or so they thought.”

She looked away. “It seems like such a waste, sir. I mean, why?” she turned to him. “They had to have known they were killing humans as well, right?” he shrugged. “And their own people if the intel pukes are right about the fifth column and terrorist cells …” he frowned. “So, why do it? No warning, no quarter either? Or did they tell their people in advance to get out of the cities?” She frowned thoughtfully. “Did they have them mark where … no, because they would have let them know in advance about the water dwellers, right? They would have been on hand to secure them …,” she frowned. “Damn it!”

“I know. No easy answers,” the admiral stated.

“It's not just that. I think the resistance surprised them too,” she said. “It's just so …
stupid
!” she insisted.

“War is like that. What they didn't count on was people fighting back I think. It bogged them down, made them lose more than they expected and they might have resorted to the strikes as retaliation. I don't know. But it did the opposite. When people see that they are going to die anyway, some rise and fight on out of spite. The whole, 'If I'm going to die I might as well do it taking you with me' comes to mind,” the admiral replied with a nod.

“Exactly so, sir,” Jojo answered with a nod. She frowned thoughtfully. “Sir, with the two tin cans gone, are you certain we can run those ships down?”

“I think so,” the admiral said. “They will need to refuel eventually. And since they think Protodon is in their control, we might be able to suck them in as planned.”

“Oh.”

“It's also one of the reasons we sent the two tin cans to Antigua instead of Pyrax. That way they won't have any unfortunate encounters to give the game away,” the admiral explained.

The female Neochimp nodded. “I see, sir. Wheels within wheels.”

“There is never just one answer to a problem if you can help it. It's called maximizing your efforts.”

“Killing two birds with one stone my dad used to say,” she said with an urchin grin. He nodded.

“The CEVs have almost the same compliment as the BCs do. Once
Kittyhawk
shows up, we'll have three of them though. I'm wondering if we should arrange some exercises to train the fighter crews against each other and in shipping strikes or hold off?”

“Commander Meia has been running her people pretty ragged, sir. They are sharp but …” Jojo shrugged. “I know there has been an uptick in problems on
Halsey
again,” she warned.

“And the mandatory stand-down her new skipper and maintenance chief called probably soured Meia's mood and plans all to hell. I'm wondering if we should do an assessment and then pass her on to another ship?” the admiral mused, rubbing his hairy chin.

“It's possible, sir. She could use a break as much as her own people, sir,” she warned. “If they short jump and play games or go ballistic around the star system, we'll need those fighters at the top of their game to run them down,” she said.

The admiral nodded in reply. “Damned if we do …,” he inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly, large nostrils dilating with the effort. He pulled the star system plot up on the holo table, replacing the image of the planet. He frowned as he touched the jump point to Kathy's World, then the other to B-95a3. “We've got more computer support, but we're still shy a proper staff. See what you can do with this. I want course predictions generated by our computers. Log them so we can draw on them necessary by filling in observation data. That way we can formulate quick responses,” the admiral said.

Jojo nodded thoughtfully as she studied the project. It was open-ended. They would never get them all, and the variables were changing as time marched on. Still, getting a general idea might help … and it did pass the time. “I can tap
Liberty's
navigational department. They are underutilized at the moment. The exercises will do them some good.” She frowned. “I'll need to narrow down the window of when they will be here so we can narrow the variables down. You know, slingshot possibilities, sir,” she said.

“Good,” the admiral said. “Call them in on it. Farm the project to the other navigational departments on the other ships too if you have to. Have them send you everything and we'll correlate the data by …,” he frowned as he checked his internal schedule then nodded once. “Say, this Friday?”

“That gives us four days, sir. It might take longer,” she warned.

“Rough estimates only at this point. Once you have a general idea,” he ran a finger to draw a course line from one jump point to the other, using the gas giant as a slingshot. “Then we can pull the tactical departments in to go over it while the navigators refine their estimates.”

“Yes, sir. You're thinking exercises?”

“I can't and won't draw too much fire power off the B-95a3 jump point. Not with those two
Derfflinger
lurking out there. And they might scare up their own friends too.”

“Scary thought, sir.”

“Yes. I hate a fair fight,” the admiral returned. She eyed him and then snorted.

“Get on it, Jojo,” he said.

“Well, it will definitely keep me busy and stop me from feeling sorry for myself over the new plus surroundings,” she said with a roguish smile. He snorted, patted her on the shoulder, then went back to work.

Chapter
18

In 2.2 weeks after departing the Nightingale star system, Captain Shelby Logan and
Prometheus
exited hyperspace at the Nightingale jump point. They knew they were going to find
Firefly
battered. According to the initial reports they had received, the ship had no hyperdrive which spelled serious damage.

“We've got an image, ma’am,” a sensor tech said, subdued.

“Put it up on the main viewer,” Shelby said quietly.

“We're being interrogated by the other ships,” Comm reported.

“Send them our IFF over the tachyon link, Comm,” Prometheus ordered. The ship's A.I. swiveled a camera to his captain. Based on her expression and thermal signature, the A.I. could tell she was dismayed, upset by the sight of her old ship. It was only going to get worse the further they got into the star system.

“We'll get her right again. At least enough to get home under her own power,” Shelby said finally.

“Yes, ma’am. You know the natives want her to stay, that and the other ships,” Prometheus said.

Shelby scowled blackly. “It's not up to me or them. We follow orders. If they want to get into the fight, I'm all for it. But we're not going to be able to defend them. We can't be everywhere, and damn it, if someone is too cheap and lazy to protect themselves, then they damn well shouldn't bitch and whine when they get pasted. It's on them. I feel for the kids, but it's on their own heads.”

The ship's A.I. avatar nodded, recognizing his captain in a temper. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sorry, Prometheus. I didn't mean to take it out on you,” she said, grabbing the arm of her chair.

She could see another camera swivel in her direction. “It's okay, ma’am. That's what a good acting XO is for.” He had started to come out of his shell a bit with her so to speak, warming up to her and coming into a good XO-captain partnership. She hoped he didn't go back into it. She missed Zeb though. Prometheus wasn't quite up to a smart A.I. but close.

“Bullshit. Let's get over there and see how we can help out,” Shelby said with a nod to the plot.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma'am, we're getting inquiries. Our IFF has been pinged,” a rating reported.

Shelby raised an eyebrow. “So soon?”

“They've got someone watching the jump point no doubt in case anyone else shows up. Send them the IFF over the tachyon link. Establish a formal link when we get closer. For the moment, amend our IFF to include our orders from the admiralty and a request for information on
Firefly
and the other ships.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Get engineering and fabrication to go over the lists while we're en route. I want ship packets assembled from stores as soon as we can. We'll make up the losses. Speaking of which, get the tugs out. We'll need permission to mine, but we can scoop up the debris to begin repairs and replacements.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

“Good. I'll be in my office,” the captain said to the ship's A.I. “You have the bridge.”

“Aye, ma’am. XO has the bridge. I'll be passing it on in a moment myself though,” he said in a lighter tone. “I have a feeling we'll be busy so I'll need to subdivide my attention and processing power between main engineering and fabrication to give Lieutenant Troll an extra helping hand in a moment.”

“And the boat bays and the hospital complex will also need to be prepped. We're going to be busy, torn between ship repairs and the planet,” Shelby said, rolling up her sleeves. She always liked a challenge but this was too much. She wasn't sure where to start. It bothered her that she was shorthanded; a third of her bridge crew were off on detached duty as the prize crew of that blasted freighter. She regretted sending it off, but what was done was done. They'd deal with it.

“Yes, ma’am,” the A.I. stated.

“Let's get on it,” she murmured, one hand on the hatch combing to allow her to look back before she nodded once and took herself off. They had a lot of planning and liaison work to do and not a lot of time to do it in.

Anything to keep her mind off of her old ship she thought to herself as she walked into her office.

---<>))))

Shelby couldn't contain herself, they were still four days out so she contacted
Firefly
over the tachyon link once she had checked in with the other ships and had received relayed permission to mine. There was a caveat, at least two-thirds of what they mined had to go to the planet. She was fine with that. She hoped and prayed at least that the tachyon link was still functional on the ship. She wasn't certain she could wait another three days while staring at the damage.

To her relief a familiar voice answered. “Couldn't wait to put the call in? I guess I won the bet,” Renee said.

“So much for protocol,” Shelby said with a grin. “Glad to hear your voice, Skipper. Been a while.”

“That is has.”

“So what's this I hear about you biting off more than you can chew as usual? And this time the enemy bit back?”

“Heh, something like that,” Renee replied in a subdued voice.

“How bad is it?”

“We've been better,” Renee answered dryly. Shelby's lips twitched. She sucked in a breath, more in relief and to get control of her emotions than anything else.

“Glad to hear your voice, ma’am,” she finally said before the silence became too awkward.

“Glad to still be talking, even though breathing isn't exactly
easy
right now,” Captain Mayweather replied. “I thought quick heal was supposed to be you know, quick,” she said with a growl then gasp.

“Take it easy. They do say patience is a virtue,” Shelby replied sweetly.

“Patience I apparently have.”

Shelby thought about that, then shook her head and let the matter drop. “Okay, where do you want us to start? I've got the fabricators running parts now based on the preliminary damage control report you sent to Gaston,” she said. “I can get the Troll to work on updating that list and …”

“I think Saul has our damage under control for the moment. I know the admiralty wants us back in yard hands for the debrief, but if you can help the people on the planet, I think we can wait,” Renee said, cutting her off.

“I think we can do both, ma’am,” Shelby answered, feeling relief at the news that at least one of her old shipmates was also alive. Her eyes cutting to the distant planet. She had read the reports over and over. She knew it was bad. She just wanted her old ship to be right again before she got bogged down.

“As long as you don't get saturated by one or the other,” Renee answered dubiously.

“If we do we'll scale back our enthusiasm, ma’am. I've got a crack team of engineers and medics here, ma’am, let me put them to work. They've had a 2-week vacation. Time for them to earn their keep again.”

“Okay,” Renee answered in an amused voice.

“In the meantime, if you could have your DCC teams relay your damage and priority list, we can go over it while we make contact with the ground, maybe get a few things out to you before we get swamped. I've already got ship packets packed and ready to go. That should keep your engineers busy. If they can pack the wreckage over to us in the return flights, we will be able to recycle it and get the turnaround going faster,” Shelby stated.

“Okay. What about … ah,” the captain said, catching herself as she noted the factory ship dispatching tugs to the nearest asteroids. Another tug went out to the gas giant refinery. For some reason the Horathians hadn't blown it up. The naval crews hadn't been too enthused about checking it out however, ever wary of a potential booby-trap and nuke sized bomb.

---<>))))

Helen Richards was just glad Governor Oman had died during the plague instead of being around to deal with the current crisis. The overweight blowhard had been such a pain in the ass. A corrupt pain in the ass. He would have done everything in his power to skim off the growth before the bastard pirates had come for himself and his cronies, steering contracts to his supporters’ pockets.

Deli Osiris had been the true power behind the throne during Oman's regime. He'd been a king maker, and it was a good thing he hadn't survived either. He'd resigned his acting governorship during the last election in favor of his old post.

Pity he'd pissed one too many of the godfathers off by letting his current charge crack down on crime. His assassination had allowed Commissioner Gordon and Governor Haruke the incentive to hit back and hit back hard. The organized crime families had been hammered in retaliation, hauled off before the cameras and given public trials. Their code of Omerta was supposed to prevent them from cooperating with authorities. Instead they'd all violated it in order to throw each other to the sharks.

Not that she didn't think Governor Haruke wasn't equally guilty of the same corruption. He had been just a little less blatant about it.

To her disgust the government had survived partially intact. She'd heard that Solaximara had been executed after attempting a deal with the enemy. Governor Haruke had been killed by the pirates and Ch'E'sll the Veraxin lieutenant governor had been injured but somehow had evaded capture and execution. It meant no clean slate to start over with. Then again, it meant there were warm bodies to do the job, if they bothered to do it at all.

The bug had lost two upper limbs, an eye stalk, and a leg, but he'd managed to survive and was responding to basic treatments. And more importantly, the bug had insisted on not undergoing further treatment while the population was still suffering. She wasn't certain if it was a stunt or not. If it was, it was a damn good one. Not only had he garnered sympathy, even more when it became known that his nest had been wiped out, but he'd earned respect from everyone. His public scenes of digging through the rubble or standing in the food lines dishing out foot helped to inspire others to step up.

Good for him. He was probably a shoo-in for the next election she thought, eying the bug.

“What?” the bug asked mildly.

“Nothing, Governor. Just thinking of how far we've come and how far we've got to go,” she answered. He clicked once and then returned his attention to the report.

She eyed him again then used her implants to access the feeds from her own people through the navy net. He had been sworn in as acting governor once the Federation Navy had finally landed but lacked implants. She wondered briefly if he'd opt for them once he did decide it was time to get fixed up. Possibly.

If he wanted to push the planet's rebuilding renaissance, then he was going to need the true governor's implants and keys. But to do that he was going to need to go to Irons to get them she thought. She wondered how the planet would do while he was gone.

“Nohar has been a great help with the continuation of order in the refugee camps,” Commissioner Gordon said. “And the navy too,” he said, nodding to the Marine Lieutenant attending the conference. “The shelters they have replicated, along with the food ration packs has helped tremendously. But we still have a long way to go.”

“Speaking of Nohar, where is he?” Helen asked.

Hank snorted. All eyes turned to him. He was tired, a bit matted, but in his element with the engineering. He was out of his element with the meeting, but as usual he had been tinkering with something while they talked. “He's outside. Said something about checking the lines in the area on his way in. He didn't like the smell of the crowd. I didn't either, but he had something else in mind I guess,” he said.

The commissioner frowned before he pulled a radio out. “Report,” he growled.

“Sir, we've got a situation. The natives are getting restless,” an unfamiliar voice replied. The commissioner looked at the lieutenant sharply. The lieutenant scowled.

---<>))))

Tension had eased a bit when the pirates had been confirmed to have left. But that left no outlet for the grief and rage boiling among the population as they dug themselves out. Those who had been brave enough to face their foes had been pressed into service helping others. They'd been kept busy.

But others who hadn't fought, who had hid and watched others die under the oppressors’ boot couldn't stand it. They felt betrayed, and it was natural to vent that outrage. Unfortunately, the pirates who should have garnered their rage were no longer around so the natural inclination was to focus on those who should have protected the population from the pirate raiders Nohar thought as he eyed the lines of people.

He could tell it was going to be bad. It was in the air, a subtle miasma of misery and suffering mixed with anger and impotence. One spark … one person pointing in the wrong direction …

He checked the medical lines, but it wasn't there. Tired nurses and volunteers were regularly making their way through the lines, doing triage and passing out snacks or water. Not there, he thought looking around.

The food prep people weren't that considerate he thought. They had a limited supply and had to keep order. He realized he was in the wrong place when he heard mutterings of the navy “letting it happen.” He looked around for the source, real and artificial ears swiveling to try to fixate on it before he found it.

Nohar saw the trouble brewing as the marines assigned to keep order started to get overwhelmed. Everyone wanted something now, and the impatience mixed with impotent rage was ready to boil over.