Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (44 page)

He could live with that, he thought as his face cracked in a brief grin.

:::{)(}:::

Commodore Eichmann grimaced as he contemplated his second glass of whiskey. It wasn't the taste of home he'd been hoping for, far from it. He checked the label then grunted. Right, he thought, shaking his head, Dead Drop rotgut. Most likely cut with something to double its profit. Most of the hicks there didn't know the difference between paint stripper and real whiskey, he thought. He was almost tempted to consign it to the maintenance department but instead held off.

His liquor cabinet had taken a significant hit. He knew Red would replace the losses eventually, but that was then. He had no intention of going dry until that time, which meant he had to nurse what he had even if it was perilously close to paint stripper. He swirled his glass.

The admiral's brief mention of Admiral von Berk and Fourth Fleet had made him look into the mission a bit more, which had startled him. He'd found an unpleasant connection to himself; his cousin was a major in intelligence and had been assigned to Fourth Fleet.

Was Leuben dead or alive he wondered? Did it matter to him? He wasn't certain. It wasn't like they'd grown up together or been close. Leuben had chosen Marine intelligence as a career over a naval one after all. He had turned himself into something of a black sheep in the family.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. Dead or alive, it was out of his hands, and he most likely wouldn't learn one way or another for some time—perhaps years. It was best to focus on the future.

Admiral De Gaulte's attack on the federation fleet had seemed like the greatest adventure, at least initially. But when he'd seen how brutally efficient the enemy was, how they'd cut through the destroyer screen and obliterated Evan and her squadron … well it hadn't sat well with him. The past week he'd done his best to distract his errant mind from focusing on that. Now that he was in hyper though, he had no refuge from his own thoughts.

Well, one, he thought, looking into the depths of the glass once more. Before he could stop himself he knocked it back and then grimaced as he swallowed the rotgut. “I am going to need to talk to Red. See if the ship's still is better. Gods of space I hope so,” he said weakly, shaking his head as he coughed.

Chapter 18

First Lieutenant Monica Okankwo never felt so grateful at being in a star system, even an empty one until she saw her ship translate out of hyperspace into B-95a3 space in an explosion of light and gravitational waves that alerted everyone in the star system of the visitor. Courier
UFDV-010S
had arrived and with it news of impending disaster.

“Corgi, transmit our IFF with the first log. Let the picket know right off. Then stand the drive down from hyperspace, secure for subspace, and get us underway.”

“Plotting a least-time course now,” Corgi, the canned A.I. stated.

“Good,” Monica said. She liked her job, she felt a little junior to be a ship's captain, but the courier was hers. She'd never felt comfortable in the academy's tactical track. She'd known once she'd seen her tactical scores that she was destined as a supporting role somewhere. Finding herself in command of a ship though … it was … nice.

She checked her fingers, flexing them. She was tired, they all were. All six of them, they'd flown the little
Sojourner
class boat's heart out. They could only get faster if they finally took on some antimatter … and swapped her helm and navigator with a pair of water dwellers.

Personally she hoped that never happened. She liked her crew just as they were.

“Ship secure from jump. Course plotted,” Aden reported.

“Then get us to the Protodon jump point, toot sweet,” Monica ordered.

“Aye aye, ma’am. Helm executing course 213 by 42. All speed ahead full,” the PO intoned.

“And we're off,” Monica murmured quietly. Undoubtedly she was going to be barraged with inquiries by the picket once they received her IFF and message. That was to be expected.

She hadn't gotten her reputation as the gossip queen of the academy for nothing after all. But this was a bit of gossip she wished whole heartedly she didn't need to pass on.

:::{)(}:::

Captain Daisy Leon hummed happily as she tossed a tennis ball against a wall. She knew it drove some of her bridge crew nuts. It was a small part of the appeal, but she had to have her kicks.

She noted Bob's wince at the sound of the last bounce near him and so called her little game by catching the ball in her mouth. She then had to get it out of her muzzle, wishing for the umpteenth time she didn't have such a beak of a mouth.

“Ma'am …”

“I'm done,” she said softly.

“It's not that. We've got a hyper footprint at the B-97A jump point. It's a small one, consistent with a courier or small vessel.”

“Well, that's probably not good. Get the SITREP off to
Shepard
before she calls it in,” she said.

“On its way … and we're getting the same back,” the rating reported.

“Figures,” the captain said. She keyed a comm sequence to Captain Song's ship. “Running late are we, Adam?” she asked mildly.

“Last time I checked it was odds even, Daisy,” he retorted. “We could always look at the logs and compare exactly when they were sent out,” he said.

“Why don't we see who our new caller is,” she retorted.

He raised an eyebrow. “Chicken?”

“No, just hedging my bets and maybe letting you off the hook,” she said. “A courier. See, I still think we should be allowed to have one of us positioned at that jump point. So we could talk to each other.”

“But then we'd get lonely,” Adam mock pouted. Besides, it's … hang on, getting an IFF,” he said.

“We are as well,” Bob said, glancing over his shoulder to the captain.

“She's Courier
UFDV-010S
. What a mouthful!” Adam said. “Uh oh,” he said, playful tone deserting him.

“What?” Daisy asked, flicking her ears. She read the text then her green eyes met Adam's. “Uh oh indeed.”

“Damn,” he said softly.

“My sentiments exactly. Bob, let the staff know we're going to have company. Soon,” she said. “Then lay in a comm laser on the courier.”

“She's undoubtedly on the way here, ma'am,” Bob replied. “Hitting her …”

“Then do an omni, get her location, then set up the link, Bob,” Daisy growled.

The rating blinked then nodded. “Aye aye, ma’am,” he said in a crisp tone.

“Good.”

:::{)(}:::

Captain Adam Song of the
North Hampton
class light cruiser
Shepard
grimaced when he received his copy of the courier's log and warning message six hours later. It was not news he wanted to read, not when he was going off shift and getting ready for bed. It was news that was likely to haunt him and keep him up all night.

So instead of knocking off, he headed to the ship's small gym. The only way to put the mess out of his mind for the moment was a good, long-hard workout. He grunted as he saw Pericles there as well. “Coming in or going out?” he asked.

“Just got up,” the XO replied with a grunt as he put the weights away. “I read the log. Fracking sucks,” he growled.

“You do have a gift for understatement,” the captain sighed as he went over to the small bathroom and opened his locker. He started to undress but left the door ajar. The XO and a couple of ratings were the only ones in the gym. Most were about to start the shift. “The really sucky thing is, it didn't come with a casualty list,” he said.

“Yeah. That's haunting you isn't it, Skipper?” Pericles asked.

“You could say that,” Adam said as he finished changing into his shorts and tank top. He stretched, trying to work the bugs out. “Which is why I'm here I suppose,” he said.

“Then I'll stop talking about it,” the XO said. “Let you get settled in,” he said as the captain did some stretches then got on the exercise bike for a light warm-up ride.

“No, get it out of your system. I plan to at any rate,” the captain said. “Damn it …”

“Here,” the XO said. He went over and grabbed a towel and tossed it to the skipper.

“Thanks but …”

The XO followed it with a bottle of water. The captain grunted as he caught it and then chuckled. “Always there,” he said.

“Just as a good XO is supposed to be.”

“Suck up,” the captain teased as he popped the top and took a sip.

“Just waiting for the next promotion list so I can get my own command,” Pericles retorted.

The captain racked the water bottle and then slung the towel over the handle bars. “So, think you can hack my job?”

“Your job? No, I'm not sure. Maybe. I'd definitely like to try my hand at something smaller and build up to this,” the XO replied, waving a hand.

“Now you are pulling my leg,” the captain said as his legs pumped.

“Hard to do with them whirling around like that, Skipper,” the XO teased. A rating snorted.

“Cute,” the captain said. “Let's see, two more minutes then I …,” he frowned. The elliptical ski machine was currently occupied. He frowned thoughtfully.

“I'll be off in a minute, sir,” the female rating said.

“No rush,” the captain said noncommittally.

“You're the boss,” she said, huffing as she pumped her legs and arms. He could just see the sim under her arm; it was of an uphill, cross country ski run. Not bad, but he preferred to do such things with music.

Come to think of it, she could have music playing through her implants and he wouldn't know it. Some people were good at that. He personally preferred ear plugs. After spending the day listening to voices in his head, it was nice to get out of it for a change.

“She's reading my mind too. It's contagious,” he said, jerking a thumb to the woman. She ducked her head, smiling and blushing a bit.

“Easy to do since she's female, sir,” Pericles retorted.

“True,” the captain snorted. “Most of the time,” he added. “So, your thoughts?”

“I think Second Fleet got its ass handed to them, on toast. And we're going to be there when they come out?”

“That's the plan,” the captain admitted. “
Almirante Grau
is going to send us her fighters and as much ordinance and spare parts for them as we can take on. The bosun asked for a little break to allow the boat bay officer to do some juggling and the Cargo Masters to move some freight around.”

“I'm betting we'll have parts in nets strapped to the hull by the time we get underway. Which will be … when exactly, Skip?”

The captain grunted. “I was going to say when they are done. I know better,” he admitted. Tell a rating they could work on it without a deadline and they dragged their feet and dragged the process out. A rating or officer worked best like a rat in a trap and under constant supervision and threat of imminent death or worse, the captain's impatient wrath.

“Are we just taking on fighter parts and ordinance? Or more?”

The captain frowned thoughtfully. “You know, now I'm not sure. The orders said just that but …”

“I think we should take on everything we can get our hands on. We've got caches here in the system, I say we draw on them, Skipper. But we strip
Grau
first.”

“Captain Leon might have something to say about that,” Captain Song replied mildly.

“I think she won't mind when we or I should say,
you
explain where it's all going. We'll give her gifts to the ships coming in. Parts will be in short supply; getting the ships shipshape is vital. And any extra ordinance and counter missiles she can spare will be much appreciated, sir,” the XO explained.

Captain Long didn't have to think about that scenario for long. Slowly he nodded as he scratched under his chin. “I like it. All but the part about me explaining it to her.”

“Well, she's there and you're here, sir. How bad can it be?” the XO teased. “Just remember, her bark is worse than her bite,” he teased as he headed into the bathroom/locker room to shower.

“Right,” the captain drawled after him. He shook his head and snorted.

:::{)(}:::

“We're receiving an omni hail from the picket ships. They want details, ma'am,” Boris stated two hours later.

“Of course they do,” Monica replied with a tired grin. She'd let the others rack out. They were bushed, but she figured she, Corgi, and Boris could handle the bridge and engineering for the moment. Besides, the less people looking over her shoulder, the better she felt when she “chatted.”

She tapped into the communication's system and locked in on where the hails were coming from. Then she set up a whisker laser ping. As that went out, she pulled up the logs of the battle, along with her sensor feed, compressed them, and sent that along as well.