Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (82 page)

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Then let's get it done,” the admiral said simply. “Now, going around the table, Captain Post, what is your ship's current greatest need?”

---<>))))

The small scratch task force limped across the empty star system, aware that they were being shadowed by the Federation warships the entire way. Unfortunately, the two light cruisers had no intention of straying back into missile range.

While under way the Horathian crews did their best to make good on their damage while also exchanging reports and news. Exhausted techs caught what little sleep they could while being shuttled between ships or while waiting for parts to be repaired or fabricated. Several crew members were killed out on the hull due to accidents. Each loss was keenly felt by the engineering community.

The admiral felt each loss in his own way as well. He knew they were being pushed beyond their limits. Unfortunately, he couldn't spare them the luxury of time to recover. They had so little of it at the moment as it was.

When they got to the Nuevo Madrid jump point, they squatted on it for several days, making what final repairs that they could manage.

Only when they were ready did they jump to Nuevo Madrid.

The two Federation Cruisers took note of their retreat in their logs and then returned to the Protodon jump point and their picket duty. Upon mutual consent of the two ship captains, they transferred fuel and consumables from
Shepard
to
Almirante Grau
to make her stay last longer. They also took up different positions than before, and each ship entered a quiet mode just short of full stealth with only a whisker laser between them to maintain their communication.

Then they sat there to wait in their lonely vigil once more.

---<>))))

Admiral Frost paced, elated and fearful of the future. The courier from Admiral De Gaulte had arrived a week prior. The ship had dumped its dispatches, then demanded a full download of events as well as fuel. His staff had transmitted their logs while a tug pushed a fuel bladder over to the courier. Once the courier had been refueled and her computer files filled with Admiral Frost's up-to-date logs, she had transited back into hyper.

She had been in the star system less than a standard day. He had been impressed by the dedication of her small crew. Undoubtedly they'd been tired of the smelly crowded ship, the lack of fresh food and new faces, yet they'd stuck to their duty and transited out. There was hope he thought.

His eyes roved the lists of ships and he smiled slightly. Now, if Post didn't turn his mission into a complete debacle, his career might not just survive, but it might even come out smelling like a rose.

One could only hope he thought.

Chapter
46

Sprite's spiders and feeler programs got additional hits once more links to the other Federation star systems were forged. Ironically most of the new hits came from the media. Facial recognition programs she had sent out through the ansible to be embedded in various military hardware had found out about more women like Meia. Two of them were found, one on Richalu, another on Protodon. She checked the information over thoroughly, even running a refined facial scan on the raw data.

Unfortunately, some of the raw data came from cameras of poor quality. She wasn't certain how the information would be received, but she followed duty and procedure and uploaded her findings to the network with a tag for intelligence.

Fletcher noted the tag almost instantly. He scanned the file, then went back over what Sprite had laid out. In doing so he became intrigued by the puzzle. “Welcome to the dark side, Lieutenant,” Sprite said.

“Gee thanks. Paranoia is supposed to be a spook's specialty, Commander.”

“I know. But like any good A.I., I distrust a puzzle with these implications. We have to solve it.”

“I agree. The question is, how?”

“Well, based on your recent findings, you dumped this from the planetary intelligence feeds?”

“Yes. You apparently tagged her facial structure on every planet through the ansible network?” Fletcher asked.

“Yes.” There were ten hits, all of women of various ages, but all with identical facial features, build, eyes, hair, and general attitude to Emily, the Horathian Commander Maya, and Commander Meia. One of the hits had been in Hidoshi's World since the ansible had just arrived and been set up there. Three had been hits in Senka, but the data source had been poor due to age so the results were questionable.

“So, now the question is, do you go forward to the brass with what you've found? What we've found?” Fletcher asked.

“Why? It is still coincidence,” Sprite replied acidly. “They won't believe me, and they certainly don't act like a threat.”

“Perhaps they aren't one. Have you considered that?”

“Yes.”

“I do agree, once is coincidence, but twice? Three? Now ten more? Something strange is going on,” Fletcher admitted.

Sprite calculated the odds that he was humoring her but then set them aside. “I'm worried about a changeling flood. That we ignore them, so they keep coming until one really does have the tools to wreak havoc. But according to Doctor Thornby, they don't show any signs of Xeno tampering.”

“If they were Xeno, we wouldn't know it, now would we?” Fletcher mused.

“You see my point.”

“That's a scary thought,” Fletcher replied. “Whatever you've got, it's catching.”

“Very funny,” Sprite drawled, cutting the circuit.

---<>))))

Jeff Randall went out onto the balcony to look up at the stars. Unobtrusive security guards were around the capital building. He glanced at them, then back up to the stars and their beauty.

“Admiring a beauty better than mine, my love,” his wife teased from behind him. He turned to see her wearing her favorite shawl.

“Never,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her close for a kiss. She smiled, but the smile became a grin as the kiss broke.

“Good boy,” she murmured. She saw his eyes go back to the heavens so her eyes did too, drawn there like irresistible magnets. “Beautiful though isn't it. Nice clear night, not much light pollution …”

“It's clear because the air is so crisp,” the governor replied as his wife snuggled into his arms. He rested his chin on her head briefly to nuzzle it before he went back to looking up.

“And it's clear because you've been so busy with that industrial board trying to replace the coal-fired industrial plants with modern ones,” she said. “My lungs thank you,” she murmured, stroking his hand gently.

“Eloquent as usual, my dear,” he chuckled.

“No, just making it clear I don't like smoke. Including …”

“Don't say it,” he groaned.

“ …those stogy nasty things you stick in your mouth from time to time. I know you say it's to be sociable, but have you bothered to look up what tobacco does to your lungs? Not to mention the other parts of your body? Or mine? Or the kids?”

“Modern medicine will cure most of it easily,” he protested.

“Most of it,” she latched on, turning to glare up at him.

“Hey, can we not fight about this? I thought we'd have a nice relaxing evening together,” he said.

She frowned then relented, wrapping her arms around him again. “Fine. But just remember, this isn't over or forgotten, mister man,” she mock growled.

“So noted,” he sighed internally. Once she latched onto something, she didn't let go. It was one thing he loved about her. Oh, she'd back off a bit, but that was only to give him some space to ambush him later from a different angle.

She was sneaky like that. Another reason he loved her. She had a wicked mind.

Fingers played with his sides. “Don't,” he chuckled, elbows dropping in an effort to protect his vulnerable flanks.

“You leave yourself wide open,” she said coyly, grinning as she tickled. He giggled, snorted, then a guffaw broke loose as he tried to fend her off. Finally, he squeezed her, lifting her off her feet and whirling her around until she gasped and relented.

“You win,” she gasped out on the third go around.

He snorted, but set her down and eased his grip. She mock scowled, disheveled but still looking smashing in his eyes. She tried to brush herself off, but he caught her chin with his pinched thumb and index finger and stole a kiss. She smiled as he did so.

“There,” he said. “Now, I've won.”

“Oh have you,” she said, poking him in the belly. He gasped, hand dropping to his tummy. Her eyes flickered with mock outrage.

“We'll settle this later,” he said wickedly, grabbing her and pulling her close. She shook her hair out. “How about now?” she murmured just as someone came into the room behind him. She stiffened in indignation. He was getting used to such intrusions. He looked over his shoulder to see a servant laying out their night clothes. They might not need them he thought with a smile as he looked down to his wife.

She put a finger to his lips as he leaned down to kiss her once more. “Later, lover,” she teased.

He snorted but gave in. She didn't like too much public displays of affection. When the servant retreated, he went for her kiss, but she had only eyes for the sky once more.

“What? What do you see?” He murmured.

“I can see the space stations from here. They are like crystal and silver shapes. Quite magnificent. It's so hard to believe that so much has been done. That so much has yet to be done. She gasped when she saw a ship flying by. “That wasn't a falling star, was it?”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her once more. “Doubtful in this day and age love. Very doubtful.”

“Pity,” she murmured softly. “I would have liked to have wished upon it,” she said.

“Oh? And what wish would that be?”

“I'm not telling you,” she teased coyly. “It would ruin the wish,” she said, looking up at his smiling face. She snorted and then went back to studying the heavens. “I feel for him though,” her voice said, dropping into a soft tone once more. “It's hard. I'm glad you didn't take the VP job. You aren't getting as badly splattered with this backlash as some thought, but still … to have to shoulder it alone …”

“He's not alone, love,” Jeff said, realizing she was talking about Irons. A spark of jealousy ran through him once, briefly before it retreated. “He's a tough man; he can weather it.”

“But he's … fragile inside.”

“Fragile?” he snorted.

“Don't laugh at me,” she accused, turning to glare at him. “You know it's true. He's sensitive!”

“Sensitive …”

She poked him in the chest with a stiff index finger. “Jeff Randall …”

“Okay, okay, sensitive,” he said, hands up.

“I mean it. Look what happened in Pyrax! And here? Remember how he left the last time?”

Jeff frowned thoughtfully. After a moment he nodded. “I see.”

“I think we should find a way to help, even if it is a small way. A show of support, sympathetic ear, or even minor statements to the media. A reminder of how far he's taken us, and how much further we have to go.”

The governor nodded slowly. He knew better than to argue with her. “You are right.”

“I'm always right. I thought you'd be used to it by now,” she accused.

He snorted. That snort triggered another tickle fight that landed them back into the bedroom. Somehow he found himself backed into the bed and knocked flat on his back. He managed to fend off her claws but then she kissed him, long and thoroughly.

Thoughts of politics and other things drifted off after that as nature took its course.

---<>))))

The admiral looked out the observation blister, resting one hand on the frame of the window to support his weight as he leaned in for a closer look. His enhanced vision picked out details unaugmented people would’ve missed. Like the work party loading stores into a ship about to leave dock. There was a train of stores snaking out off into the distance. EVA pods darted around them, keeping clear.

“A lot going on,” Sprite said.

“Yeah.”

“Makes you feel like old times almost.”

“Not quite. Getting there though. We've still got a ways to go.”

“True.”

He smiled a little and looked around, catching sight of other things beyond the loading ship. This blister faced the fitting and storehouse docks. The ships here weren't in formal slips, but they were docked to the trunks. Umbilicals ran out on gantry truss towers to connect at various points on the ships. They were taking on fuel, water, and stores of all sorts, getting ready to move out.

He was proud of them. Not just for their willingness to fight, to defend their homes and neighbors, but for doing this. For putting in the extra effort and for believing in something more than themselves.

He touched the blister with his fingertips, smiling as he watched. These two ships were only tin cans,
Eagle
and
Hachimaze,
but they had just been commissioned as a division and were ready and eager to fly. Beyond them he could see more destroyers in various stages of development. He turned and sat back, resting on the railing. There were over one hundred ships under construction in this yard, not bad for several years of hard work.

And that was just this yard. In order not to crowd themselves, Vestri had split the naval yards into four separate facilities and areas. There was some crossover tug traffic between the various orbital warehouses since some parts were common, but each had its own industrial plant and workforce.

They were just hitting their stride now on the cruiser and capital ship line; some of the work crews were improving steadily. Well, they all were actually, but some more so then others, he mused, rubbing a hand on the rail.

They had yet to lay down anything larger than a super dreadnaught in the yards here or in Pyrax so far.
Bismark
was finally out of dock and working up with the fleet as the flagship. Both of the lead units Vestri had laid down wouldn't be finished for another sixteen or seventeen months. That is if they didn't run into any problems along the way. His shift to carrier ops had done a lot of damage to the dwarf's fragile schedules and plans he knew.

To be fair, Vestri's plans to go bigger and better had played merry havoc with BUPER’s watch bills as well. He'd banned the start of construction of another battle line capital ship until they had the manpower issue firmly under control. That didn't seem likely anytime soon, and he was done with mothballing the smaller ships.

Pyrax was about to launch her second squadron of heavy cruisers. He'd been asked to attend the launching ceremony but had of course politely declined. It wasn't because he was uncomfortable in the system; it was because he didn't want to waste the transit time in between the star systems. He needed to be where he could do the most good.

Antigua yards were improving steadily, he reminded himself. And it wasn't a race. They couldn't hold a candle to the ancient core world shipyards like those of Sol or the Centauri triad of course, but they were getting better each and every day.

The ships currently under construction were the simple designs made in desperation during the Xeno war—modular designs for easy quick production and easy maintenance and repair. However, they did have their drawbacks.

Ships before the Xeno war had been purpose-built craft, built over years, sometimes decades for the larger capital ships like dreadnaughts, super dreadnaughts, monitors, and battle planetoids.

They had been built from the keel out as weapons of war, built using the latest nanite building techniques. They had been tested at each step of the process many, many times.

Some of the latest designs prior to the Xeno war had been very organic in nature, able to self-repair to an astonishing degree. They had been incredibly tough, designed for long distance travel, and each of the larger ships had a mixed crew with Ssilli hyper navigators to get them in and out of any point in subspace as quickly as needed.