Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (9 page)

“Another one deployed on the Tango's Starboard flank, sir.”

“What does it take to kill this thing?” Her XO demanded, clearly exasperated and ready to finish the job. He had spent far too much time hunting down civilian ships that couldn't fight back she thought. Now that reality was smacking them in the face, it wasn't a pleasant experience. She wondered how many other officers were coming to grips with their changed reality.

“A lot more than we thought obviously,” she answered sarcastically.

“PDLs have taken down half the incoming fire. Counter missiles expended; we're moving more up from the other magazines now,” the bosun told her.

“You should have been doing that earlier!” the XO raged.

“He's doing it now, without our orders, so drop it. If we're low on counter missiles, they should be about out.”

“We've noticed the counter missile fire has slacked off in the past three attacks. It's still not quite enough …,” the JTO paused as a pair of missiles got through everything the
Resolution
threw at them to get into detonation range. The nuclear fire tore at her stern again, this time ripping two of the ventral nacelles up. “That got her!” he said, pumping a fist in the air.

“All missile fire from the ship has stopped,” the TACO said after a moment. There was a trace of satisfaction, but that ended when the ship kicked back and forth, fishtailing and sending out spreads of missiles from either flank. “But … damn it …”

“Weapon platform almost in range … it's firing! Target is
Calico Jack
! Spirit of Space, it's a monster graser!”

Captain Bordou watched with a silent and hidden trace of relief that the enemy ship had targeted the other cruiser instead of her own.
Jack's
already weakened shields took the first series of hits, but with them up she couldn't counter the incoming missile spread. Her consorts tried to cover her but only intercepted half of the thirty missiles. Apparently they had no trouble firing time on target she noted as the missiles got to their engagement zones and detonated almost as one. They ripped down the light cruiser's shield and exposed her to the graser's fire.

Jack
shuddered then rolled away as
Jean Lafitte
gallantly moved in to absorb the fire.

“I didn't know Drew had it in her,” the captain murmured.

“She didn't. Flag ordered it. The admiral is ordering us to back off,” the XO said in disgust and disbelief.

“Helm …,” fresh orders popped up on the display in front of the captain as well as the XO. “Helm, slack our speed to one quarter to match
Calico Jack
. Guns, maintain the engagement with energy weapons until we lose the range.”

“Why bother, we're already out of range,” the JTO muttered in disgust. She looked sharply at him. He caught her look and flinched, ducking his head away.

---<>))))

“Captain, the cruisers are breaking off pursuit. The tin cans are maneuvering as well to get away from us,” a rating reported.

“They finally realized they'd bitten off more than they can chew. They are at their extreme missile range, and it looks like they aren't willing to waste the ammunition to try to finish us off. Given that they've been firing destroyer class missiles, they might be close to dry,” Purple Thorn stated.

“Or they need to re-munition with those ships in orbit before they try to come back in. They may even come in as a group for the additional point defense,” Renee murmured. She was starting to feel drowsy, something the corpsman had given her was interfering with her ability to concentrate. “Commodore Firefly, you have the con. Get us clear and then recover the surviving fighters and platforms. Then get us into stealth once we're at the outer edge of their sensor envelope. Keep us clear of them until we can make good on what repairs we can,” she ordered then coughed. She wasn't surprise that she tasted the salty taste of blood. She tried to inhale but couldn't get a deep breath. There was no pain, but there were sharp jags of something stopping her from inhaling too deeply.

“Yeah, that sucks,” she murmured, head lolling as the DCC techs and corpsman began the laborious process of finally extracting her.

---<>))))

Firefly's
crew assessed the situation. The news was grim. Her starboard primary engine nacelle was destroyed. Her two ventral nacelles were damaged. She'd been able to limp away from her foes only because they had broken off the engagement and because the
Resolution
class had more speed in reserve than they had had.

Twenty-four dead including four on the bridge and CIC. They had destroyed one medium cruiser and hammered one of the light cruisers, but not enough; there were still enough firepower to destroy them.

Their hyperdrive was down; sensors and shields weren't up to handling a jump. The ship A.I. ordered his crippled ship to the outer edge of the solar system to picket near the Gaston jump point. Baleful electronic eyes watched the enemy rendezvous in orbit of the battered planet.

Three of their fighters made it back to the barn. According to their reports only one of the enemy fighters had limped away intact. Two others had gone off in the wrong direction. Based on what they knew of
Raptors
they would most likely expend their life support and fuel before they could get back to the safety of a ship.

Over the course of several days while the captain and others underwent surgery, recon drones were sent into the system on ballistic to observe the enemy. They picked up the damage to the enemy ships. They also noted the tanker and
Arboth
class escort carrier joined the other ships.

Once they were certain of their relative safety, “Commodore” Firefly called an officer's meeting in the wardroom. Doctor Standish flat out refused to release the captain due to the severity of her injuries. She would remain sedated while the quick heal took hold. That would keep her immobile. Unfortunately, there weren't enough stasis pods to go around, so she'd just have to endure her injuries and repairs the old fashioned way.

Fortunately, they all knew she was a stubborn woman. She'd be okay in time.

“The fuel leaks are finally under control. All fires are out. We're still making good the damage, but our two replicators aren't up to handling this level of damage,” Lieutenant Edigner said. “And with us on stealth, we don't have the energy budget to run them full tilt—even if we had the materials which we don't.”

“Do what you can, Chief,” the A.I. intoned. Saul nodded.

“What do we do?” Purple Thorn asked the ship A.I., turning her goat-like eyes at his image.

“Until we can make good our losses we observe only. We're nearly depleted on missiles, correct?” the A.I. asked. He already knew the answer, but the elf nodded her head in reply. She understood what he was getting at. They couldn't risk another missile engagement, and with their shields battered and partially uncovered on their stern, they couldn't risk getting into energy range either.

She'd lost both weapon drones when they'd entered stealth. She'd set off their self-destruct charges to keep them out of enemy hands, so she no longer had that card to play either.

“I hate having my hands tied. I feel so helpless,” she muttered.

“Yes. I do as well. But I think the people on the planet feel it even more,” the A.I. replied. "So, what do we have to work with? We need options, people."

---<>))))

Renee sat in the bed, feeling damned helpless and hating every moment of it. Doctor Standish had relented on her medically induced coma but he had her restricted to the bed. For the moment she was behaving herself. Her own traitorous thoughts were punishing her enough at the moment.

She looked at the image of the planet on her tablet and then closed her eyes in pain. She was already kicking herself for screwing up so badly. Knowing she failed was hurting her even more. The recriminations that others would bring against her were nothing compared to those she harbored within.

The enemy had changed. They were better, they were fighting smarter, and she'd gotten her ass kicked. They'd lured her in … she scowled again. She'd hate herself later. For the moment they had work to do.

"Are you well enough to talk, Captain?" a familiar voice asked from the overhead.

She looked up, feeling the sting in her eyes slowly fade. "Yes. I know it's here, but … just give me a status report."

"We're working on it," Firefly replied. "I'm in command; you are down. Doctor's orders. He'll sedate you again if you fight it, so don't do anything stupid,” the A.I. stated when he sensed through her monitored vital signs she was getting annoyed. She suddenly relaxed, forcing herself to calm down. "Better. We've lost one major nacelle and the two dorsal ones are iffy. We've got about a third of our sublight drive remaining, but they let us go."

"They let us go?"

"I know. It doesn't make sense, but we're making the best of it for the moment. We shot almost all of our missiles in the engagement. We have twenty-two remaining. Based on our damage and our low munition status, I can't recommend we engage again."

She inhaled as much as her ribs would allow and then exhaled wearily.

"It gets worse. We've lost over 20 percent of the crew, most of them in the stern of course. We have also lost the hyperdrive. So we aren't going anywhere."

"The drive?" Renee asked, eyes wide. "How … why …"

"The damage to our shield nodes, sensors and such are bad enough, Captain. But the damage sent a spike through our plasma conduits. Engineering routed around the damage to keep us functional, but apparently, they fed some of the plasma to the hyperdrive to bleed it off. Since it wasn't active, the plasma ate a good chunk of it before the damage was contained. The hyperdrive's self-destructs activated to protect the ship."

Her eyes flared wide then she shook her head. She licked her lips. A robotic arm appeared in her peripheral vision to offer her a straw. She sipped at the fruit juice then sat back into the pillows once more. They weren't much comfort. "Damn. So, we're not going anywhere."

"Not anytime soon, no."

"Frack." She closed her eyed in pain, then slowly opened them. It was one thing to game something like this out, quite another to actually experience it. The idea of getting hurt … it had always been an intellectual thing, distant, remote. Something she'd honestly never thought she'd go through.

"My sentiments exactly. You now know how I feel: injured, angry, and helpless. I've been there before, however," the A.I. said. "It is not a pleasant scenario."

"No, no it isn't. So, now we have to do something about it."

"Right now the only thing we can do is rest and recover. That and hope rescue arrives in time," Firefly stated.

She blinked then exhaled heavily as the nurse came over. She started to wave a hand but the nurse shook her head. "That's enough. Time to rest, Skipper," she said, making an adjustment to her medication. After a moment Renee felt a drifting sensation, then her eyelids got heavy.

"She needs her rest, Commodore Firefly," the nurse scolded.

"I know, but the worry would have made it worse," a distant familiar voice replied.

Renee tried to fight it but failed. Morpheus claimed her once more. In a way, it was a relief, but it was only staving off the inevitable.

Chapter 4

Two weeks after the battle Rear Admiral Von Berk glared at the cone where his people thought the damn
Resolution
was. He was bitter over the loss of one of his cruisers, but it had to be expected he reminded himself.

The game of hide and seek had turned. He hadn't expected the ship to linger; she must be worse hurt off than he'd expected. That was the good news. But, her stealth was far better than it had a right to be, and he dared not get into missile range to finish her off as much as his captains urged him to do so. She was just too good.

He had loaded his cruisers with destroyer missiles in order to simplify his logistics. The missiles had all been home built, and he'd thought they'd been good—obviously, not good enough. He'd had that damn cruiser outnumbered and outgunned,
and
she'd still gotten off lighter than he'd wanted her too. Hell, he hadn't wanted her to get away at all! He shook his head.

He'd damn near shot himself dry. He was fairly confident that she'd done the same, but he couldn't know for certain. The numbers he had in his files were one thing, but there was no telling what else that ship had packed on board while going out on her cruise. And if she had replicators to go with her modern weapons …

The Federation wasn't going to go over easily. It was a lesson he was going to need to drum home to high command. But first he had to get there to report in. He knew he was going to have his ass in a sling because he'd lost a ship. Losing one with so little return …

His fists clenched behind him. He'd hurt that ship! He knew he had. They were bleeding; they'd lost a primary nacelle for Murphy's sake! But she stubbornly held on, clung to life. She was stooging around the star system somewhere, lurking under stealth, waiting for him to make a mistake, for him to split his force so she could pounce on the weaker one and attrition him.

The hunters had become the hunted, and he didn't like the feeling. Not one bit.

He'd done the only thing he could. Instead of following Captain Bordou's advice and splitting up into beaters and hunters, he'd kept his people in tight, concentrated in orbit as his engineers did their best to repair the damage and to refuel the ships.

He had ordered the damage to be made right as best they could. Each of his three surviving cruisers had sustained damage of one sort or another, fortunately none of it to their drives or hyperdrive. Work parties were out on the hull every shift rigging lines to get around some of the damage. He knew they knew that he meant business too when he'd warned them that if anyone couldn't keep up they would be left behind. Most likely scuttled before he pulled out.

Since no ship's company wanted that, they were working diligently to keep it from happening. He nodded at the tally board. They still weren't 100 percent, far from it for
Calico Jack
, but her sister ship was lending her engineering teams as well as parts to get her shields and sensors back. Good, he thought with a nod.

If he'd had more fighters, he could have spread them out and ran the ship to ground. But his cruisers didn't have their normal fighter compliments … something he was dearly regretting now. The only fighter he had left was Maya Gisborn. She seemed okay. He felt that pilot country on
Lingchi
must feel pretty empty, but if it bothered her she didn't say. She was willing to go out again, but he couldn't countersign it.

That was another thing he needed to point out to the brass. The compliment of an escort carrier had been torn apart by a handful of fighters even though they'd had surprise on their side! He shook his head. The enemy fighters had been fully equipped with shields and modern weapons; again, they'd won by their tech as much as their skills. They were indeed formidable opponents.

All of his captains wanted to go after that ship. They practically begged him every time he had a conference.

No, they either found another way to run the pest of a ship down or they abandoned the effort for good. They could thumb their nose at her while they finished their work with the planet, then exit the star system as planned.

“Sir! Jump point activity! CIC is reporting a ship at the Gaston jump point.”

“Is our dance partner leaving?” Rick asked, looking up from where he'd been reading a report.

“No, sir. It's a ship coming in,” the tech replied.

“Another one,” the admiral said, exchanging looks with his chief of staff. “Order the people on the ground to expedite.”

His chief of staff nodded instantly. “Aye, sir.”

“And get me more details on our recent arrival,” he ordered. “Order the fleet to go to stealth if possible. It won't help much, but maybe our friend will come in fat dumb and happy before the other ship can warn them off.”

“Aye, sir.”

---<>))))

Captain Barrack Russo, Neogorilla extraordinaire, watched the plot stabilize as his
North Hampton
class light cruiser
Tumuloch
stabilized after her jump into the star system.

“Plot stabilizing, sir. Nothing yet,” the CIC tech said. A sphere was around the ship. Data icons appeared outside the ever expanding sphere. Those were natural bodies in space, like the local star and planets.

“Sir! We're getting a priority flash from
Firefly
!” the comm rating said.

“Thank the Spirits for some favors. At least we know they are okay and this was a fool's run. Let's hear it,” the skipper said.

“Unknown ship, this is the Federation Naval ship
Firefly,
hull number NX-20214S1. This is “Commodore” Firefly actually speaking. The star system is in hostile hands; repeat, the star system is in hostile hands.
Firefly
has sustained heavy damage.” That made everyone stiffen up in shock. “Enemy forces are as follows …”

The gorilla and crew listened as the A.I. reported the enemy ship numbers, location, then followed it up with a data dump.

Firefly
had been pushed outside the star system. She was hiding in the oort cloud, battered but under stealth. Her hyperdrive was out, and she had sustained heavy injuries to her engineering and bridge crew. It didn't sound good.

“Comm, ping our IFF to
Firefly
over the tachyon network. Helm, once we've gotten Firefly's coordinates, I want you to plot a course to them. We need to rendezvous and see what aid we can render.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Sir, we're picking up the ships
Firefly
reported,” a CIC tech reported.

“Very well,” the gorilla said, eyes cutting to the plot. He scowled at the numbers. But after a moment a few faded out.

“Sir, the ships in orbit have faded from our screens. Well, the warships, we're still holding a lock on the civilian ships.”

“Was this a live shot?” He checked the sensor scan, but his active sensors hadn't gotten that far. His neutrino detectors had, that was why CIC had accepted
Firefly's
data, but the radar and lidar were still racing their way at light speed across the star system. It would be several days before he got a full read.

“All hands, we're running silent. Helm, no sorry, navigation, plot a course to Firefly. Replot it I mean, this time as a dog leg. No sense getting caught out. Engineering, drop a warning beacon before we move out.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the engineering department stated.

“Execute then, people.”

---<>))))

Admiral Von Berk realized the
Resolution
had been expecting backup when she lit off her surviving drives to make rendezvous. She was limping badly, but apparently not badly enough. He shook his head. “A single ship though?” he asked, checking the CIC report carefully. From the mass readings, she was a cruiser at least. They couldn't tell what class from their distance however. And the first full image of the hyperspace discharge flare had been missed by the fleet; they'd only caught sight of the corona over the moon's horizon.

“I'm starting to kick myself for not suggesting we picket the jump point, sir. We could have torn her apart before her systems had stabilized. If they send in everything as singletons …,” Rick waved a hand.

“We'd run out of ammo eventually. No, this sucks, but we'll live with it. At least she's not appearing frisky for the moment. Are our people expediting the pickup?”

“Yes, sir. We're still behind on the numbers though. It doesn't look like we can pick up any more of the target audience, however.”

“Damn.”

“Something is better than nothing I suppose, sir,” Rick replied.

“True,” the admiral muttered. “I was just hoping for better. There is going to be hell to pay over loosing
Adventure Galley
,” he growled. The chief of staff looked at him then looked away. After a moment he nodded.

He frowned thoughtfully. The more he thought about it, the more hitting Gaston on the way out was no longer appealing. He'd had it in his head to do a hit and hype raid, go in, smash whatever was there in passing, then keep going on to Centennial and then to B452C and then northeast back to Protodon and the safe haven of home space.

But that plan may not be viable. Obviously Gaston was a least time jump line to Pyrax. There was no telling what they had in the star system. Possibly even fixed defenses he thought. Not a pleasant idea to walk into blind, he reminded himself.

“Plan to fall back to B448c instead of Gaston,” he intoned, hands behind his back. Rick looked at him. “I want the plan ready on a moment's notice.”

“Sir, what about the other ships? Those in the Aquarius branch or the Tau sector? Or going up the Nightingale line?”

“We can't wait for them—not if the enemy keeps sending in reinforcements. Eventually they are going to send in enough to make our survival questionable,” the admiral said.

Rick blinked. He didn't like the idea of abandoning their people.

“It's the hard decisions that tend to haunt you the most I suppose,” Admiral Von Berk rumbled. “But it has to be done.”

“Sir …”

“No. If more ships come through, we're going to have to bite the bullet and abandon the star system, the admiral stated, eyes hard and cold. “They will be on their own,” he said coldly.

His chief of staff grimaced but nodded. He knew better than to challenge his boss further.

---<>))))

Two days after
Tumuloch's
arrival, additional ships jumped into the star system at the Gaston jump point.

The trio of ships spread out as their systems settled down and adjusted to real space. The corvette
Intensity
led the way, closely followed by the escort carrier
John Paul Jones
. Trailing behind them was a newly built courier vessel.

The trio of ships received the data dump from the light cruiser and grimly began searching for the intruders.

The odds were shifting in the Federation Navy's favor at last.

---<>))))

“Sir, we can take them!” the TACO said, waving to the new intruders. “Even with …,” he saw the admiral's stern look and his eyes fell. He looked over to the chief of staff, saw his firm shake of his head, and realized he was out on a limb without support.

The admiral frowned. “It's not our job to duke it out with them. Trust me, I'm tempted, but our orders are clear. We withdraw.” He shook his head. He wasn't sure what was there. The corvette and courier were easy prey, but that other larger ship had his hackles raised. He didn't like the look of it, not one bit.

“And the others, sir? The ships dispatched to Aquarius? And those sent to the Tau sector?”

“Unfortunately, they will be on their own. The longer we wait here, the more reinforcements the enemy will send. We must withdraw.”

“But the long way, sir?”

“They are sitting on the Gaston jump point. We will have to risk it. But I have something in mind to speed up our journey,” he said, pulling up an image of the captives. “Bring me their leader.”

“Are you going to execute her as a show of force for the others?” the TACO asked.

The captain hissed.

“Nothing so crude and melodramatic. No, we need her services. It was the whole point of bringing her up here in the first place! No, we shall not waste her or our other captives. They are our golden geese, and we shall treat them as such. I want everyone to be mindful of that. They are not to be harmed—no threats, no mental games, no physical force. Anyone who violates that will answer directly to me,” the admiral growled.

What he didn't mention was that their medics had finally gotten a baseline on each of the water dwellers, enough to begin “treatment.” Each would be introduced to a drug cocktail that was highly addictive. It also had wicked and debilitating withdrawal symptoms. Once they were hooked, the drugs would keep them in line like another invisible leash. A simple check on occasion for perceived bad behavior would force them into withdrawal and remind them that they needed their fix and therefore needed to keep their new masters happy.

It was something the intelligence community had dreamed up. He didn't like the spooks and didn't like the idea of making the genies addicted so early. Their stock in the drugs was finite; once it was gone, they would go into withdrawal and perhaps die. If they did, it would wreck his mission.