Blockade

by Chris Hechtl

  Having the platform would be a relief to him. Once it was set up, his command would no longer be out on a limb. Well, they'd still be there but they could alert the rest of the fleet of what was going on moment to moment and get alerts of incoming shipping.

  He turned his attention to the prowlers. The flotilla was impatient to get going, he could tell. But they were there, waiting until their remaining fellows arrived.

  Things were about to get interesting and not just for him and his command.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Three days after the platform was up and the first downloads had begun, the last Poltergeist squadron arrived. The twelve prowlers spooked the small ansible transport as they lumbered to the jump point.

  Trajan ordered an alert to be given to the rest of their fellows and then a second alert to his fleet train to get ready to resupply the small ships in preparation of their upcoming mission.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Captain Hough nodded as his crew handled the ship. He was glad they had smart A.I. in the ships, they were dueling with each other while handling the bulk of the logistics and tactical sims.

  He had only a few more hours of training before the resupply was completed. Once it was his, ships would have a few days to train on the way to the jump point and their destiny.

  He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to the mission. He was anxious though, anxious to see if it worked. He knew some of his crew were anxious to paint “First to Horath” on the ship somewhere. Probably in bright gaudy lettering too.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Trajan watched with approval as the second convoy to arrive lumbered under their best speed to the distant Horath jump point to dump lethal cargo. Once one more load like that one was finished, he'd feel secure enough to move his ships closer to the jump point.

  Until then they were continuing exercises to keep the rust off. They were burning through a prestigious amount of fuel and parts though, so he had to cycle his support ships off to make the run back to Garth to resupply. There was a reason no one used H001 or H002. They were deserts; there was nothing there to use for supplies.

  Oh, he could arrange for Bussard ram scoop ships to scoop up the bits left but what was the point? They'd get a couple handfuls of rock and some ice but pretty damn diffuse. He was seriously reconsidering setting up fortresses in the star system. Keeping them supplied was going to be a nightmare like his task force.

  He turned his attention to the distant plot. That was the real reason he was on the flag bridge, to watch with the big screen as history unfolded and the prowlers jumped. He smiled. Admiral Irons was known to turtle but was also quite good at logistics. And he had his own little ways of getting his point across to even the most stubborn of people.

  He was pretty sure Piotr Ramichov, self-acclaimed emperor of Horath and the galaxy, wasn't going to like the admiral's message one little bit.

  He just wished he could be the fly on the wall to see the emperor's reaction.

  Chapter 50

  Dd01ns

  CruRon 149, dispatched to hunt down the pirates arrived in Dd01ns on the heels of a passing convoy.

  The Neodog escort commander, Captain Folgers of the light cruiser Beltran, informed the CruRon Captain V'x'z'll of a recently discovered suspicious ion trail in the star system. “It doesn't go in our direction. It looks like it is coming from B-97b to SNHH if you can believe it.”

  “And your people are detecting two of them?” the Veraxin captain asked.

  “Sending you the data now. I had a fighter out on recon and maneuvers, and she picked them up on her scopes. I think that might be your boys. It is about four months old,” the captain stated.

  “I see,” the Veraxin buzzed as her A.I. and crew processed the report. She considered lying in wait for the ships. It had to be her targets. Instead, she decided that they might be hiding in SNHH. They were most likely looking for supplies there.

  Can't have that.

  “All right, here is what we're going to do. Beltran and your division mate are going to remain here at the SNHH jump point in ambush. Stealth in other words. We'll move into SNHH to flush them out.”

  “You are countermanding my orders to escort the convoy to Dead Drop?”

  “I think they can handle the last leg just fine,” the captain stated. “When they get back, you'll be here and you can go back with them or I can detail two of my ships to take your place. Either way we need to put an end to these pirates.”

  The Neodog nodded. “Aye aye, ma'am, I agree. Let's kick some pirate booty.”

  “Not quite how I'd describe it but it works,” the Veraxin replied with a second-degree hand sign of amusement.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Antigua

  Admiral Irons digested the latest news from the war front while his shuttle was on final approach. He noted in approval that the cadre had bypassed Dead Drop and had already moved on to Garth. He nodded. They knew what they were doing.

  He had some time off this weekend arranged; he was actually going groundside to the Randall family retreat. Security was tight. He'd gotten confirmation everything was set earlier that morning. Now he just had one last visit and then some paperwork.

  He'd considered going to the launching ceremony, but he'd decided to let Odette and others have the limelight there. His eyes narrowed as his implants tapped into the shuttle's sensor feed. The pilot was doing well lining up to the boat bay in the drilled-out asteroid fortress.

  The fortress was spanking new. So new they'd used it as a test bed to slot in Mulberry fortress modules once it had been cored. They'd used the excavated rock to cover some of the holes. According to the team in charge of building it, the setup had been a bit tricky but they'd gotten it done. And the modules had been easily added once they'd gotten the hang of it all.

  The thing was a monster, the last fortress to be built in Antigua with the current budget. She was practically a small moon and with the forts she could actually grow as needed.

  He glanced to the side to see the distant battle moon. That was the command fortress of the B-459c jump point. It was hard to believe that there was one each at the other two jump points as well. And because they had been built in the capital, they'd progressed far faster than San Diego had.

  But he still refused to allow them to be outfitted as starships. That was an entirely different engineering project he had no intention of tackling.

  “We're on final, sir,” the pilot stated.

  “Very well,” he said, making sure his feed was in observer mode so as to not disturb the pilot's concentration.

  After this tour he was going to hop back to the new Federation 1 and ride her back to orbit and then take the shuttle down to the Valley Forge Army Base. It was the closest to the Randall retreat.

  He was looking forward to the visit. Even with the navy on the cusp of battle on several fronts, the Marines and army engaged on a half a dozen or so planets, he was looking forward to having a beer and steak with his friends.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Admiral Champion, Vice President Randall, Vice Admiral Creator of Things, and other dignitaries were on hand for the launching ceremony of the latest Sun Tzu class super dreadnaught, Libertas. The ship was formally sponsored by Sandra Randall. She pushed a button and a giant bottle of champagne was launched from a robotic arm to tumble end over end before smashing into the bow of the ship. The shards and alcohol glittered in the lights as the crowds cheered.

  Sandra smiled for the cameras as her husband held her to her side. She normally didn't care for the limelight but it was to help Jeff. Besides, she had a new dress she had just wanted to show off. She could tell from her husband's expression that he enjoyed the occasional peek at her legs and curves.

  Her exposure to other worlds and the evolution of her world was changing her worldview. She had been a trendsetter on Antigua as the governor's first lady, moving from traditional almost Victorian dress for women to incorporate more modern fashion touches.

/>   "So, how long do the cousins have the thundering herd? Think we can arrange a shuttle delay to have a bit of fun?" her husband naughtily breathed in her ear as he hugged her to his side.

  "Oh, I don't know," she teasingly drawled back softly with a grin for the audience. "I heard something about a mile-high club and doing it in zero G?" she murmured wickedly back. He turned a guffaw into a soft cough, but she could tell he was laughing at her teasing.

  "Of course, we have to pay for our pleasures, dear. We're getting our brat pack as well as the entire pack of cousins this weekend," she said. "So, you better enjoy your time with me all to yourself while you can," she murmured suggestively as she played her fingertips over his lower back and hind end. No one could see it so she knew it would get to him.

  "Ahem, yes, and um, unless you want me to embarrass myself in front of the cameras you'll behave," he said, tugging on his collar.

  She grinned and gave his rump a pat. "Later, dear," she said wickedly as she disengaged. "Go mingle. We'll do that thing … later," she said with a grin over her shoulder.

  "Um, yeah, right," he murmured, feeling his cheeks heat. She was a lot more playful as of late, something he enjoyed. Wait, did she say this weekend? He frowned in thought and brought up his schedule. Yeah, he'd invited the admiral down to spend some downtime. Well, if the admiral did come, he was going to be in for more than he bargained for.

  Hopefully it wouldn't put John off he thought as he joined in the mingling. Social events were the few parts of politics his wife thoroughly enjoyed. He had one more week in the senate, a crushing one before they were out for a six-month recess.

  He wasn't looking forward to the crazy week ahead, but he was certainly looking forward to the time off.

  And maybe they could check some of her wicked ideas off while they were at it he thought with a brief smile.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  Mason Ramichov looked out across the bay through the windows. A storm was raging outside, and one within apparently. More and more of his fellow prisoners had given in and had started to actively collaborate with the Feds to end the war. They of course had just disappeared though, so he could only speculate about it.

  That was the general theory against the holdouts at any rate. Some recognized how a few had leaned to one side or had spoken out of turn. Of course, if you offered violence you disappeared as well.

  He wasn't sure why everyone was being kept alive. He could see himself; he was a high-value prisoner. But some of the others? He wasn't so sure.

  When the scuttlebutt started that entire ships of civilians had been caught in Finagle and were en route to Antigua, he had been surprised. He had been even more surprised when ONI agents had come in and notified a few of the prisoners that they had family coming or that there had been a death.

  Was that why they were turning their coats so readily? Or just the time they'd been in prison? It might be a country club, but he knew it was a prison. There might not be any bars but the ocean beyond was enough of a deterrent to escape. The few that had tried had never been seen again.

  What was he going to do if Horath fell as they were expecting it to? More importantly, what were they planning to do with him?

  Maybe it was time he started to look out for number one he thought.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  “Thanks for having me,” Admiral Irons murmured. He'd agreed to a weekend on the ground at the Randall family retreat. He'd needed the time off from the pressure of the job. He hadn't expected it to be so … lively.

  He was pretty sure Sandra hadn't warned him deliberately for fear of scaring him off.

  “Thanks for coming,” Sandra said with an indulgent smile. “And putting up with the thundering herd,” she said, nodding her chin to the group of kids running around.

  “I remember the three. I could have sworn there were three. I guess they fissioned in hyperspace?” Admiral Irons joked.

  Sandra snorted as her husband handed her a wine glass. “You'd think that but no. The little ones are cousins we got roped into taking for the weekend. This is a tradeoff for going to the Libertas ceremony,” she explained. The admiral nodded in understanding. “Their parents are getting some time off, and they get to play before it gets too cold. The older kids are being indulgent,” she said, eyes twinkling as she took a sip from her glass. The kids tore off, playing a loud game of tag hide and go seek.

  Her husband smiled. “Yeah, here I was thinking I was going to get some nice quiet downtime with the family while the Senate was out of session! Boy was I wrong,” he said, handing Admiral Irons a beer.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” the admiral said as he took the beer bottle.

  “Yeah, I know. I'm trying.” Jeff let out a toot and then apologized. One of the girls came over. “Daddy,” she scolded, waggling a finger at him.

  “What? I said I was sorry,” he grumbled, looking at her cross-eyed. When she put her hands on her hips and gave him a dirty look, he took a mock swipe at her and she smirked and then took off.

  Admiral Irons chuckled softly. He chuckled slightly more at Sandra's dirty look to her husband. Jeff merely smiled at her so she rolled her eyes.

  “What?” Sandra asked, lazing back on the outdoor sofa as she turned to Admiral Irons.

  “Nothing,” he said, taking a seat next to Jeff.

  “No, there is something there, I can tell. A memory,” she accused. “Out with it,” she said, pointing a finger at him and waggling it just like her daughter had a moment ago.

  “Well,” he frowned thoughtfully. “It's hard to talk about my past. But there was this one time I came home from deployment and my daughter who was four was into cowgirl stuff and piggyback rides.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, her mother indulged her with the whole outfit and everything,” he said, shaking his head. “She even had PJs and a hat which were adorable.”

  “I'll bet,” Sandra said with a fond smile.

  “Anyway,” he shrugged. “She bullied me into laying down so she could mount up. She was a lil thing as they like to say. She got on and bounced and well, I lit one off. A big loud long one.”

  “You didn't!” Sandra said, playing along.

  “Oh yeah,” Admiral Irons said, holding his hands up in surrender. “In my defense I'd had a breakfast bean and egg burrito and a meatball sub for lunch. So I was primed. Like it or not it was coming out.”

  Jeff snorted.

  “Anyway, she lit off screaming bloody murder like her hair was on fire out of the room. Her mother was laughingly scolding me from her chair, and I was laughing when the little minx came back with one arm over her mouth spraying air freshener in front of her like a madwoman.” He pantomimed her doing it. Sandra and Jeff chuckled.

  “I ducked when she attacked me, and she plopped down, pouncing on my back. She dug her tiny knees into my back and proceeded to spray my rump thoroughly.” Jeff hooted, slapping his knee in laughter as Sandra chortled.

  “I think her mother fell out of her chair; she was hooting and laughing pretty hard.” He shook his head with a smile on his face.

  Sandra covered her mouth as she laughed.

  “My butt was wet!” the admiral said, wrinkling his nose in memory. “Her mother rescued me by taking the can away. She was laughing so hard tears were streaming out of her eyes. She swore it was the stink, but I knew better,” the admiral said with a shake of his head.

  There was a long silence. He took a few pulls of beer. “Anyway, that's what came to mind when I saw Jeff get his comeuppance for a perfectly natural event,” he said.

  “Better out than in. And at least I didn't do it in public,” Jeff said. He shook his head. “You should see them if I burp!” He shook his fist at his grinning wife. “She taught her faithful minion that. Not fair.”

  Sandra's eyes brimmed with mischief. “Serves you right.”

  “Sure it does,” he mocked.

  “You don't talk about your family much, John,” Sandra said softly, turning to
the admiral. “Why is that?”

  “There are a lot of reasons. There is a lot of pain there,” he said slowly. “I can parse out the good from the bad over time, but for the most part, I try to put it all in the back of my mind and focus on the job at hand,” he said carefully.

  “The time loss?” Sandra asked sympathetically.

  “Not just that. A lot of trauma and drama. And with my two eldest, pain of different sorts. In her case it was what we went through when she was older and then what happened to her.”

  “I'm sorry if we're prying too deep,” Jeff said, giving his wife a warning look.

  The admiral shrugged. “Most of what happened to her is public anyway,” he said, hunching over his beer. “You already know it.”

  “We do?”

  “I sometimes feel like what some of the family of famous infamous people went through. People who had to watch someone they love do terrible things. In her case it wasn't her fault. I know that. She was a victim.”

  “Okay, now I'm curious,” Sandra said.

  “You mean you weren't before?” her husband accused. She waved him to silence.

  Admiral Irons sighed. “When she was twelve?” he cocked his head. “Right around there, she got sick. They accessed my family medical history, but it didn't make sense. See, her mother is a navy wife. She had a thing for the EEC, but she went after me because I was there more often. EEC usually meant they were gone for four or more years and sometimes decades. I could be deployed for a year or more but then I was off.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “That was when I found out she'd had an affair. She'd told me that she'd used my sperm. Turns out she lied. She had continued the affair with an EEC captain who came into port when I was away.”

  “Oh. John, I'm sorry.”

  The admiral shrugged. “Old scar tissue at this point. Long story short, we blew up, divorced; she married him, and poisoned our daughter against me to the point where she took his name. Not that I couldn't blame her, she was his biologically,” his face worked in pain. He took a pull of beer and then swallowed. “She had been interested in a naval career, but she followed in his footsteps."