Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (83 page)

He blinked at her, taken aback as she trotted to the kitchen to find a vase. He stepped inside, felt the door close behind him and then shook his head. He'd gotten just a tantalizing look at her backside and legs; he knew she knew it. He heard water come out of the faucet then stop. “Spanking?” he demanded as she padded over with a vase. She set it down on the coffee table and then straightened, with both hands on her hips.

“Why, yes. You misbehaved and …,” her index finger pointed down. “Over the side of the couch mister. Drop your drawers and we'll get this over with,” she said, all business.

He went over to the couch slowly, amused by her antics. When he made a show of getting ready to lower his drawers, she rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him. That surprised him, even though Protector warned of the incoming projectile silently on his HUD. He fended it off, then a second, and then retaliated. She waded in swinging a pillow like a maniac. He guffawed as she pummeled him.

He got an arm around her and scooped her off her feet. She squealed in his ear and kicked her feet and hands, but he tossed her down onto the couch. She giggled, kicking and fending him off with the pillow as he tried to catch and tickle a foot.

All was right with the universe for a brief moment he thought as he let everything else go and just enjoyed the moment.

:::{)(}:::

The more the changes filtered into Antiguan society, the younger women and even some men came to scandalize and antagonize their parents and others. It was inevitable, each generation liked to do its own thing, things that the other generation disapproved of. But by going in trousers, even when socializing, some of the social conservatives were up in arms. The images of women wearing short skirts, shorts, and bikinis had a few up in arms.

As he read the editorial, Governor Randall snorted. “I know that sound,” his wife teased. “What is it this time? What's got their dander up in arms?”

“Clothing. The stuff shirts are getting a bit bent out of shape at the latest fashions. Or I shouldn't really say latest should I? It's been done after all.”

“I know. I'm more concerned about the practical first I suppose,” his wife Sandra said. He knew she was okay with trousers or shorts for the girls but not for formal occasions. She had the family dressing to blend the old and the new. For a time she tried to ride the fashion trends, but his wallet couldn't support all of the girls getting a fresh wardrobe every quarter. Even on a governor's salary he thought wryly.

“What's the smile about now?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he drawled. She eyed him then gave him a peck on the ear. “I have to admit, I am a bit old fashioned,” she said, taking the paper to look at an image of a woman with a daring neckline. “I wonder where she bought this?” she murmured.

“Um …”

“Not that I'd wear it. At least not in public, dear,” she cooed soothingly.

“I, um, don't um ….” He shook his head. “You are terrible; you know that?” he finally said.

She chuckled. “Why?” she asked innocently.

“Teasing like that,” he said, wrapping his arm around her. She chuckled as she sat on his armrest. “I'll settle for some of your more eye-popping finds in the bedroom, thank you. I'm not sure my blood pressure could stand seeing you in some of those numbers,” he said.

“If I see one of your interns or secretaries dressing like that …,” she growled in warning.

“It won't be me who put them up to it! I'm a married man anyway,” he said.

“You'd better believe it,” she growled possessively, toying with his hair. She kissed the top of his head. “I don't think either of us is ready to see the girls in skin-tight garments that would make the young men drool and tongues wag.”

Jeff shivered. “No, though I could see some of the more … modern materials working their way into things. As they have been,” he said, indicating his winter coat. It had special liners that made it light and airy yet incredibly warm. And it was water proof.

“Come on, you aren't getting off this subject that easy,” Sandra said.

“Oh?”

She leaned out so they could see eye to eye. Instinctively his arm supported her. She flicked the tip of his nose with the tip of her finger. “You aren't fooling me, Jeff. You're a proud papa, but the girls dressed like that or worse …,” She indicated the paper.

She continued to tease her husband, flirting with him. He snorted and started to play along. “Well, if you want to, I suppose you could test them out. I wouldn't mind seeing you …”

She gasped and punched him in the shoulder, making him laugh and rock with her. She held onto him as he did so.

“You are right, dear; the girls aren't ready for such adult pursuits. Makeup?” He shook his head. “They are too young; I doubt they will notice now.”

“Oh, but they
do,
honey. The fashion sense in my side of the family is there. They've got keen eyes; you just have turned a deaf ear to it.”

“Come on! They still play with dolls,” he scoffed. “They are not quite ready for the dating scene, thank the gods!” he chuckled, waving a hand as his wife got up and then adjusted her dress. He noted it was a bit more daring than other dresses.

“Where do you think some fashion ideas come from? Trying them out on the dolls? And the competition in schools and their circle of friends …,” she shook her head.

He grimaced. She was right there; a few times he'd heard her tell him something or other about the girls coming home in tears because one girl was mean or something or other.

His wife smiled at him. “Two more years dear …,” she warned with syrupy sweetness or threatened he thought. He eyed her with scant favor. If anything the grin widened ever so slightly as she settled into staring him down.

“Absolutely not,” he said with mock severity, trying for a light tone but failing. If anything his wife's grin just widened. His oldest daughter Ramona came in the room and kissed him on the cheek. Then she went on to gush and prance around about a boy in class with her sister Kylie. Her mother rolled her eyes and gave a significant look to her husband over her shoulder as she shooed the girls off.

He pursed his lips and then shook the paper out and hid behind it. He didn't like the future anymore. A father of daughters—ones about to become
teenagers
was not a good prospect for future survival, either physical or mental. And with his wife involved … he shuddered at that thought as well.

At least he didn't have to worry about Sandra allowing the girls to dress inappropriately! Bad enough that his position would draw the boys like flies. He shook his head and then heaved a sigh.

If he could find a way, he'd lock the girls up. An all-girls boarding school would be appealing … as long as it didn't get one or the other to swing in that direction. He grimaced. Not that he had any prejudices against it, but …

He heard the girls prattle and chatter on and fought a shiver. No one would blame him if he locked the lot up in a dungeon until hell froze over would they? Or in chastity belts? He snorted at the idea and then went back to reading the paper in his momentary bubble of quiet.

Chapter 34

The Fourth Battle of Protodon started when the Retribution Fleet jumped into real space well outside the B-95a3 normal jump zone. Admiral De Gaulte took a moment as the bubble of space around
Executioner
and the fleet stabilized. Their long-range sensors stabbed out as the fleet secured from jump.

The time involved plus the deliberate space he'd placed between the jump zone and his own forces allowed him to size up the situation. They'd jumped high, above the plane of the ecliptic. Only the cat and mouse game
Nevada
and
Massachusetts
had performed there had allowed him to do so. They'd passed on their raw data in the courier, and he'd had Jeremy use it to priceless advantage.

The plot was already set up with the anticipated locations of the star, moons, and planets. Less well-known locations of artificial constructs had been painted in yellow. These filled in as their sensors picked up their spoor and active transmissions. Cryano nodded slowly as he noted the fortresses and their numbers. They wouldn't be the real threat here he knew; he could stay out of their range … or at least the range of the fortresses themselves. Even as he watched he also noted threat of fighters and bombers launching from those and other platforms.

“We're getting some readings on the ships, sir. At least a half dozen is around the gas giant based on the neutrino readings. CIC is still picking out the mess around the jump point,” Myron stated. “There are very few in orbit of the planet,” the Tactical officer stated. “But we're picking up squadrons of smaller ships here and here,” he said indicating a couple of spots near the planet.

“They are situated to intercept missiles or KEW strikes no doubt,” the admiral murmured thoughtfully.

“What bothers me are these two, sir. They are showing up as orbital fortresses, but something about them bugs me,” the tactical officer noted, pointing to two large icons near the fortresses.

“What's put the bug in your ear?” Jeremy asked.

“I don't know. I can't put my finger on it exactly. They just don't seem right. They aren't located properly either. At least, I wouldn't have placed them there. Normally you put them in a shell between the planet and the target zone. These …,” his frown deepened.

The admiral nodded. “Nav, plan Baker one. Execute once you've got it loaded and up-to-date,” He ordered. Jeremy acknowledged the order, but he was only half listening. The prearranged maneuver would buy his people time.

The maneuver had the fleet tack to port and starboard in a random zig zag while skirting the outer system instead of diving straight in. He was buying time while drawing the time it would take for parasite craft to get to him out. If he was right, it would throw a monkey wrench into the enemy's calculations, forcing them to adjust their timelines and cut loiter time for combat OPS to the bone. He ordered additional speed while CIC probed the inner system. Ships could hide in stealth if they were good enough, but unless they had a cloaking device, they were still vulnerable to the good old-fashioned mark one eyeball.

Black smart paint would make it hard to pick them out of course, but if they moved too fast, changed course too often, his people, and more importantly their computers, would pick them out.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral White shook his head thoughtfully as he noted the enemy's approach. It was good. He'd considered high or low, but since he hadn't had enough forces to cover both, he'd kept them in on the plane so they could react either way. Now they were doing so. The stealthed ships were plotting courses to intercept the enemy.

But they didn't just need to intercept them. They needed to lure them inward. Get behind them. That was a problem, he thought. The enemy was playing it safe. “Pass on the Zulu warning,” he rumbled.

“Aye aye, sir,” a comm rating replied. After a moment the warning was passed on to the ansible and planet via the ship's tachyon transceiver.

“And so it begins. But it's our turn now, you bastards,” Jojo murmured softly.

She glanced over when she heard a soft feline growl. She saw Garfield, ears half back as he growled in agreement.

They had traded their comfortable surroundings on
Lady Liberty's
flag bridge for the much larger flag bridge and accommodations on
Bismark
. She looked around the room.
Bismark's
bridge was massive and split in two levels. The holo table took center stage on the upper deck with a railing allowing a view of the ratings seated in chairs below. Steps on either side of the holo table allowed people to come up and down.

The flag staff had their own chairs but frequently moved about the room to have personal conversations with the ratings or other officers. She thought the view was first rate. She looked up and around briefly. The front of the compartment was a half dome with a series of “windows” looking out to space around them. She could see some of the fleet arrayed around the flagship.

Of course the “windows” were nothing of the sort. They were LCDs made to mimic the look of windows in order to provide them some sense of, she wasn't sure, grandeur? she shrugged mentally. It didn't matter. They were actually buried in the bowls of the ship, well protected from a hit.

“How long do you think it will take them to lock onto us?” Kyle asked, eying Garfield.

The staff tactical officer flicked his ears in a Neocat shrug. “I'm not sure. I wish you'd let me play with the ECM. We could have tried to look like a BC,” he said, eying the admiral with scant favor.

“We've been over this,” Admiral White said mildly as he looked on into the holo table plot. “If we had they would have been suspicious of what else we were hiding. Besides, the DNs don't have the necessary shielding around their power rooms like a BC does. That alone would make them stick out like a sore thumb.”

“As you say, sir,” Garfield said stiffly, returning his attention to his station.