Blockade

by Chris Hechtl

  "I don't like the idea that they might have sent out more in directions we aren't monitoring," Admiral Pashenkov stated.

  "Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do to detect them until they arrive. If they arrive, they first have to survive the journey. But we'll alert all commands within fifty light years to keep an eye out for them," Admiral Irons stated.

  Admiral Pashenkov flicked his ears but nodded.

  "Where are we with that group coming from El Dorado?" Admiral Hill asked.

  "You mean the sleepers?" Admiral Pashenkov asked. She nodded. "They are on a courier and will arrive in a week." He looked up. "Sorry, six days to arrival in the system, three until they are in the inner star system. Call it nine days and change," he said. His brown eyes dropped to hers. "You can thank my A.I. for that."

  "Ah," she murmured with a nod. She looked at Admiral Irons. "Do you know what you are going to do with them yet?"

  Admiral Irons grimaced. "ONI wants another in-depth crack at them. I want to have a chat with them. I'm leaning to each of them facing a formal court."

  "A full court-martial?" Admiral Champion asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Isn't that a little harsh? Aren't they victims?"

  "We'll let a court decide that. It will clear them, and they can rejoin the fleet or retire or they will face justice," the Delquir TJAG buzzed.

  "Exactly," Admiral Irons said heavily.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Admiral Odette Champion watched the latest fleet exercise idly. She wasn't participating in it other than as a referee. It was mainly carrier training, something she loved but she knew that her people needed to handle on their own.

  After all, many would be heading to the front soon enough.

  Not all though, some were Red Eagle Wing. They were the counter pilots trained to fight against the regular line pilots in real world and sim exercises. The pilots helped to build confidence in the rookie pilots, but they didn't go easy on them. The Red Eagles flew craft that the pirates were known to fly including the E-class. They taught the rookies how to counter the strengths of the enemy birds.

  At one point in her early career, she'd been a fighter pilot and she'd loved it. But she'd moved rapidly up the ladder to squadron and then wing commander and then made the jump to ship command. She occasionally looked back with a bit of envy to the pilots under her. They were getting the best, better tech, better ships, all of the goodies. She envied them in many ways.

  After this exercise the carrier force would resupply while the crews were on liberty. After that they and the two SD, two BC, and single carrier squadrons along with their screen would be en route to Garth and the front.

  Supposedly she was going to get at least half their number back. They were supposed to swap out with Second Fleet in order to bring some of those ships and more importantly their battle-hardened crews back to be distributed in the next generation of ships under construction.

  She had wondered about Admiral Irons and his logic for delaying the assault on Horath. This was one reason why and it was a good one. By getting those ships back, their crews could be promoted and distributed throughout the fleet. They had years of experience to pass on. They also were long overdue for some time off. It was also quite frankly time her people got a shot at the war too.

  She still wasn't fond of the Mulberry fortresses though. The hyper mines were also iffy in her book. You can't count on the enemy walking blindly into a minefield.

  She glanced at the departing convoy. More supplies for the front. Garth and Dead Drop would soon be supplying much of the front but for the moment the bulk of the supplies were coming from the Federation.

  The furball was yet to start so she idly thought about the numbers.

  The average person used 1.4 kilograms of food and a like amount of water per day. Some species more, some like the elves, less of course. They also used up life support material in the form of oxygen and buffer gases.

  Recycling helped keep a station or ship functional of course. Food replicators could recycle about 80 percent of the food with only minimal loss in nutritional value. Some people could tweak that, but it was always good to supplement a replicator with fresh rations. It was also very good for morale.

  Growing food on a ship was also important. The plants helped recycle some of the air and kept some of the smells down. She'd been surprised that the outer Federation still practiced that. Even warships had designated green areas. Kitchens had a section for fresh herbs too. She appreciated that and knew the crews and pilots did too.

  A six-month journey with a crew of a hundred used twenty-seven tons of fresh food alone. Of course, a shorter hop with a smaller crew meant less food needed. And that didn't include fresh water or other potables, nor fuel.

  So, the fleet being able to draw on water and fuel in the field was a big thing. It meant less tonnage spent hauling those high mass items and more room to ship other things. It was also major credit savings, nothing to sneeze at.

  Which meant every gram of material was precious to a fleet that was underway and far from resupply.

  She smiled at the scenario her A.I. had cooked up. Queenie was good; she appreciated her more and more every day. The current scenario was an ambush while the fleet was bunkering up. That meant they had to handle the resupply under combat load. That was far from ideal; fuel and other supply transfers were delicate business. The resupply had been immediately called off when the Red Eagles had been sighted, but that was going to be a problem. The Red Eagles were going to harass them for the entire length of the exercise.

  She nodded with hooded eyes as she watched the CAGs launch a second squadron of interceptors. It was smart to drive the enemy off but even smarter to find out where they were coming from and take them out. A good defense was a good offense.

  She watched the first engagement play out. The Red Eagles fired a swarm of simulated rail gun rounds and behind them a volley of attack missiles. To counter them the interceptor squadron on point maneuvered to get around the rail gun rounds while warning the ships, then fired off a pair of dazzler missiles from each bird.

  The dazzler missiles had been miniaturized to fit on the fighters. They had no standard warhead; instead, they were crammed with an ECM suite. She hoped they'd take the place of a Wild Weasel fighter or drone. This was the first all-up exercise to test them though.

  The Red Eagle missiles were 50 percent more effective than the current known Horathian missiles. About 80 percent as efficient as a standard fed missile of the same size. She was pretty sure someone tweaked a few things though; the Red Eagles were known to throw in kinks to keep people on their toes.

  She watched as the dazzler missiles went in. They were set up in defensive mode; when they got to a certain point, they began to wind up their jammer suites. They weren't as powerful as a cruiser or capital missile dazzler, but they still did a good job of turning the area between the enemy missiles and the fighters into balls of snow.

  And, while they did that the fed fighters maneuvered to get out of the line of fire. Any enemy missile that picked them up after running the gauntlet of dazzlers would have to maneuver hard to regain a lock, if they picked them up at all.

  She pursed her lips as she noted the numbers Queenie silently fed her. It looked good, less than 10 percent of the missiles had regained lock. So, twenty-four missiles used to counter seventy-two with only seven regaining lock. Not great, but better than she'd expected. They might even see better numbers with a larger enemy missile spread.

  “The courier with the sleepers has arrived,” Queenie murmured as she watched the Fed fighters fire off their own attack.

  Odette pursed her lips and then nodded. Things were about to get interesting for some people.

  Chapter 45

  Ensign Miceal Puller was nervous. He knew it. He was pretty sure PO Desmin Lopez knew it, but they were both doing their best to put a brave face on. Stoic, even though he wanted to quiver in his boots.

  After all, you didn't get called in
on the carpet in front of a Fleet Admiral, let alone the President of the Federation, for just anything. Ensigns did their level best to not get into the firing range of a flag officer if they could help it.

  Not that he'd had any choice. Shit happens though, and sometimes it happens to good people. Sometimes you got caught up in the works.

  His mental grimace threatened to spill out into his physical mask. Those thoughts sounded like excuses.

  "Sir," the security officer said, opening the door after a knock and then ushering the duo in.

  Admiral Irons wasn't alone to their surprise. They still came to attention in front of his desk as protocol dictated. "Sir, Ensign Puller and party reporting as ordered," the ensign stated clearly.

  He glanced out of his eye to the flag officer who was also there. He was a human, a vice admiral and a balding one. He was also clearly not happy with them. Great, two flag officers that were not fans.

  "You two have been explaining a lot. I still don't buy it," Admiral Irons said, eying them coldly. "You woke up in small groups and no alarm bells went off. You woke up without any of your colleagues and again, no alarms. You and I both know that's bullshit," he said, ready to bawl them out.

  Admiral Subert glanced at him in slightly veiled surprise.

  "Pirates!" Admiral Irons growled. "You were in league with pirates against the Federation."

  "Sir, in our defense we didn't know that, not until we got to Garth," Ensign Puller stated. "They were good at keeping us in the dark."

  "We're still confirming that," Admiral Subert stated. "Both Admiral Irons and I know a thing or two about time shock. But there were too many alarms going off for you not to wonder what was going on. Just the fact that they had you using your implant keys should have set something off in you. We know for a fact it did."

  "Sir, during the war, appropriation of material was tough with the keys. We had to find ways around it when things got tough …"

  Admiral Irons eyes flared cutting the ensign off. "Don't give me that shit! Horse shit! That's what it is! A thinly veiled attempt to paper over your own ass. I suppose you are going to tell me that raping and killing, indentured slavery, and torture were also covered?" he demanded caustically.

  The officer and noncom stood straighter. "We did what we must, sir. We were not a party to any of that as we have repeatedly stated."

  "So, in order to further what you thought was the war against the Xenos, you turned pirate or fell in league with them. That's essentially what you did. And that little episode on Epsilon? Using a Xeno bioweapon on a populated world? Killing tens of thousands? For what??" he demanded.

  The two glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes but stood ramrod straight. Ensign Puller grimaced. "Sir, we are not aware of that event. We didn't participate in that action, and our implants will prove that out."

  "Oh, I know you weren't there. But your aide helped others commit those crimes. And currently the Horathians you helped are undertaking a genocidal campaign rivaling the Xenos, spreading plagues across the galaxy to kill any species not human," Admiral Irons stated flatly.

  Ensign Puller's gut tightened instinctively at that news. He didn't like where things were headed. "Sir, with respect, under the articles of the UCMJ, I hereby refuse to answer on the grounds that it will incriminate myself. I need to consult counsel before we discuss things further."

  "You don't have that luxury!" Irons fumed, crossing his arms. "The UCMJ is a bit different than the constitution, gentlemen; it's a different set of rules. Ones you obviously didn't really bother reading, did you?"

  Neither man spoke. The silence was drawn out for a long moment.

  He sat heavily. "Fine then. You are both to be court-martialed. Suitable representatives will be appointed to you as your council. Until then you are both confined to the brig under special watch."

  "Sir, as an officer I am entitled … um, to aid in our defense …," Ensign Puller ground to a stop at the glower from both men.

  Irons smoldering eyes shut the ensign up. "If you honestly think I'm letting two or more admitted traitors loose on my base or anywhere, you are sadly mistaken," he snarled coldly. "Marines!" he said turning to the Marine guards. "Escort the prisoners to the brig. Make sure nothing happens to them or so help me hell will be the least of your worries."

  "Yes, sir."

  Once they were gone, Admiral Irons got up and paced.

  "Being a bit hard on them?" Phil asked, crossing his arms.

  Admiral Irons cocked his head. "I thought I'd get a different argument out of you. I'm surprised, Phil," he said.

  "It's not that I've mellowed."

  "You, mellowed?" Admiral Irons asked, snorting in disbelief.

  "Like fine wine, some things get better with age," Admiral Subert said with a shrug. That got Admiral Irons to snort in a more relaxed fashion. "I get where they were coming from. The Horathians played a damn fine game. They were kept isolated, spoon-fed a story that the war was still on, and they fell for it hook line and sinker. Throwing that crap about ET at them was bull and you know it."

  Admiral Irons nodded as he sat down again. "I know; I wanted to shock them. I didn't expect the ensign to turtle like that. He has a right I suppose. But I'm going to make sure the charges include aiding and abetting the enemy. They might not have any piracy charges; they obviously weren't directly involved in any of that. But I want them shaken up."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Where are you on the intel you got from them and their implants?"

  "We've got some information on their travel but not a whole hell of a lot. They were woken in Horath not in Sigma. So we don't have a transit timeline from where El Dorado is in Sigma, sorry. The code monkeys are massaging the data now. I've passed on everything to Monty of course."

  Admiral Irons nodded. "Very well. Anything else on the agenda?"

  "Well, locally the Eternia SWAT team known as the master-at-arms are going in on a suspected terrorist safe house now. I got the alert just before Puller's arrival."

  "You did?"

  "They wanted on-call naval coverage but waited until the last minute to ask. I retasked a satellite for them. I don't know if it will be any good though."

  "Ah. Well, hopefully, they get mister terrorist enemy Number One. I'd love to see him dealt with one way or another."

  "You and me both. His antics have gone on long enough."

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Adam Prince tapped his partner on the shoulder twice at the callout, then followed Teela in as they swept the room. They each had a zone, and he kept scrupulously to his. He could hear the distant sound of fire but also the callouts when it ended in their favor.

  The squad was doing well clearing the safe house. Their intel had been spot on.

  "Clear," he said as he cleared the room of targets. He did a careful scan for enemy activity. There were only so far his enhanced implants that could penetrate through the ground though before it hit the bend. "Correction, got a tunnel," he paused and blocked Teela just in time as the tunnel collapsed. He turned his head and sheltered her from the cloud of dust and debris that came up from the tunnel as it collapsed.

  "Lost one or more down an escape tunnel. The tunnel collapsed," he said through his implants, swearing as Teela batted at his arm in anger.

  "Last man," the sergeant said as the all clear sounded. "What happened, Adam?"

  "Tunnel collapse. Bastard probably had it rigged."

  "We found explosives, but they weren't hooked up yet. Looks like they were working on it when we crashed their party," another of their team stated.

  "Last prisoner is KIA. He said Skeletor was just here, and we missed him," another soldier stated.

  "Drone up!" the order was passed to command. "We need drone sweeps in the direction of that tunnel; Adam, location?"

  "West," Adam said as Teela swept the room again. "It had a ninety degree bend."

  "It probably dumps out into the sewers," Teela said, clearly disgusted.

&n
bsp; "He's on the run. I'd like to keep him that way," a familiar voice said over the intercom. "He can't run forever. He's running out of places to hide."

  "I'd rather let him go to ground, find him, and then nail his ass once and for all," Adam muttered. He'd only had one sighting of Skeletor months ago but hadn't gotten a shot off. He still regretted that miss.

  "We'll get him. Next time. Forensics is coming in now. Dump what you've got to them and then we'll do a hot wash. Command, we need to know if we can locate him."

  "Based on the directions given, that tunnel most likely leads to the sewers. There are kilometers of sewers, and we can't predict where he will come out. We'll keep looking."

  Adam sighed. "Roger that," he said with a shake of his head to his partner.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Admiral Irons grimaced slightly as he heard the report about Skeletor. Prince's team was getting closer and closer to their elusive quarry but had yet to end the problem once and for all. But at least they were keeping the bastard running and therefore on the defense.

  He turned his attention to the Academy lecture. He'd decided to do a spot guest lecture in an Intro to Tactical course during an hour of his free time after a reschedule. He couldn't attend directly so his presence was through a holographic avatar, but he knew the kids in the course were still excited to see him.

  Not that hero worship was why he was doing it. Quite the contrary, he wanted to keep the kids interested in the course and pass on what he knew.

  "With right force mix, anyone can kill an enemy. We had to do that with the Xenos. There was no mercy, no surrender. But there are other factors, and I admit the Xenos were good at it. The best strategists, they get into people's heads. I know a famous person has said it. Look it up, all of you." He surveyed them as he paused. "Probably many people in many species have said similar things over the centuries. It is a hard-won lesson for all strategists and tacticians. Convince the other side not to fight, break their will, convince them it's not worth the amount of blood it will take to get a small piece of ground and you've won half the battle."