Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines

by Chris Hechtl

  Phil turned slightly to look at the commander out of the corner of his eye. The man was distracted, most likely using his implants to handle paperwork instead of paying attention to the tour the admiral judged. He was a stocky man with sandy hair. Saul was a sleeper from Lemnos like he was, a junior administrator who had served on several stations before being transferred to Lemnos. He had been a lieutenant before Admiral Subert had him jumped to his current rank and had him assigned as his chief of staff.

  “Sir, is it okay to have a meet and greet with the local colony administrators? They are keen to meet you,” the chief of staff asked. There was a broad hint in his last sentence.

  The admiral frowned thoughtfully. “Politics,” he muttered.

  “They are a bit rough around the edges, but I think you can handle it, sir.”

  “I can handle my own, son. I've rubbed elbows with senators and others back …,” the admiral cut that sentence off. “Yes. Fine. Make it a dinner.”

  “A formal dinner?”

  “If … yes. We can use the publicity I suppose,” the admiral stated as he returned the salute of a squad of marines out on a jog. Unlike some he reveled in breaking out his dress uniform and showing it off he thought as he struck the salute.

  “Understood, sir. We'll need to be back at the guest BOQ in an hour then, sir,” he stated.

  “Did you hear that, Ensign?” the admiral asked, glancing at the driver and guide.

  “Aye aye, Admiral. I'll just cut the recreation and live fire centers off the list since they are on the other side of the island.”

  “Perhaps we can tour them the next time we are here.”

  “Yes, sir. It is going to take at least twenty minutes to get back to the BOQ. I'm plotting a new path now, sir,” the ensign stated. After a moment he turned the wheel and changed the vehicle's path. He cut off another jeep, but the small flags and stars flapping on the rods cut off a shouted reprimand from the marine officer in the other vehicle. He didn't salute, however.

  “Let that man know he's out of uniform,” the admiral murmured over his shoulder to Saul. Saul nodded gravely as he made a note.

  ---<>---<>---

  “Do you think we'll get more support, sir? We need dedicated assault craft. I'm talking marine aerospacecraft, drop pods, and dedicated aerospace gunships, sir,” Major Pendeckle stated.

  “All that will have to come from Antigua,” the colonel replied.

  “You're kidding,” the major replied with a grimace.

  “No, afraid not. Admiral Irons has the keys for that hardware.”

  “Which means it'll have to be shipped in to us. And you wanna guess what the priority will be?”

  “I know,” the colonel replied. He shook his head. The major was right; they needed dedicated hardware. Not just drop shuttles, ground vehicles, drones, and the occasional assault shuttle but the full kit and caboodle he thought.

  Aerospace gunships were the latest thing the major had taken a shine on. They had come in many different forms and varieties over the centuries. It was hard to choose one and getting the mix right on each world would most likely be hit or miss. Armed drones were a given, but they could only do so much.

  He was old school; he preferred to have a mortal in the loop. Control transmissions and telemetry could be hacked or jammed. A person in the pilot's seat couldn't. Sure it put a life or lives at risk, but that was the price of being a marine.

  “It's not just the actual hardware that's a bottleneck though; it's the damn ordinance for it as well. Has anyone thought of that yet?” the major demanded.

  “I suspect you just did, but I bet the admiral has thought of it. The question is, what he'll do about it. Hopefully, something soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They are going to need help for Protodon. I know Lewis did an outstanding job on Hidoshi's World, but we can't expect that to happen every time, everywhere.”

  “You think they'll call us up?” the major asked hopefully.

  Jersey nodded. “I'm pretty sure Protodon is a good place for your boys and girls to cut their teeth and get blooded. Hopefully not too badly, but …,” he shook his head.

  The major nodded grimly.

  “There haven't been any orders yet, but I expect them soon. Most likely starting with penny packets before someone decides it's a good idea to send in more. Hell, for all I know they'll draw them from that convoy to Kathy's World!” He threw a hand up in despair and then let it fall.

  “Yeah. That'd suck.”

  “Most of the trainers and recruiters can handle it. And Gunny McClintock is there; I know he can handle whatever anyone throws his way.”

  “Yeah, but even if he's in that damn super suit of his, it's not worth spit if the ship he's in gets blown up around him,” the major reminded him.

  “Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of too,” Jersey murmured. “How goes the tour?”

  “He's not showing much. Apparently the SEALS and Special Forces didn't go over well.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. He did have a good idea to pull one of the marines in to lend a hand with the training syllabus.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Apparently she was a SEAL washout. She knows some of the tricks and stuff they did. Lieutenant Simpson sent me an email requesting her services sometime.”

  “I see. I'll get her here,” the colonel replied.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “How are the sleepers integrating?”

  “Not bad, sir. I promoted Lieutenant Lyon to captain as you ordered. He's good, sir. He's running his recon company through the ringer now. The other companies are starting to step up out of self-defense.”

  The colonel exchanged a shark-like grin with the major. “Always good to hear. Everyone needs a little Valenko treatment now and then. Keep me posted.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  ---<>---<>---

  One of the best things about being in Agnosta was his ability to catch up on current events that the rear admiral had missed during his time in transit between Triang and Agnosta.

  Fortunately the download had already been completed prior to his arrival. Nothing had been flagged for his immediate attention so he had put a majority of the reading off for when they were underway again.

  He had a lot of catching up to do; the galaxy had changed. He shook his head as the tender finally broke orbit and headed to the Pyrax jump point.

  “I'm surprised they didn't shake loose a warship, sir,” Commander Garretaj stated. “Though I am gratified we didn't have to squeeze into a corvette or frigate I suppose,” he said with a theatrical shudder.

  “True,” Phil replied absently, scanning the dispatches. The admiral waved off such considerations when he finished his present reading. “I have seen the current lists; every warship is vital. Having one to nursemaid me to Pyrax is a waste.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “It shouldn't take me long to get through this backlog. Once we're finished, I want to go over the plan one more time and crank in any new intel. Look into plugging any holes here,” he stated, waving the tablet. The commander nodded.

  “We're going to have to hit the ground running you said, sir. But things will have undoubtedly changed by the time we arrive,” the commander stated.

  “Not that much,” the admiral stated, shaking his head. “Oh, I suppose the Horathians could have attacked Pyrax while we're headed there. Or Admiral Irons might have ordered a ship to go somewhere, or news may have come in from down south. Isn't that Tender overdue? Prometheus?”

  “We're still out of contact, sir. We know she got as far as Airea 3, sir, since a civilian freighter passed through there. They had headed to Beta 443.”

  “And they should have jumped from there to Nightingale and then on to Epsilon Triangula and then to Gaston.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “John has dispatched Firefly south to look into the situation. Since she wasn't in Gaston to get the orders, it will take some time before
she gets them.”

  “Are you considering sending a ship to investigate from Pyrax, sir?”

  The admiral frowned thoughtfully. “Prometheus had an escort. Two frigates I believe. So I think she should be okay. Should be,” he said. He exhaled slowly then waved the tablet again. “Draw up some contingency orders to order a ship to look into the situation just in case. Have them on file. And crank that into our calculations on ship strength in the alternate plans.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “I'm not happy about just having Bismark on hand as our heaviest asset to protect the star system. She's not even 60 percent strength either,” the admiral shook his head. “We're going to need to do something about it. And shipping the parts in from Antigua is out.”

  “We may need to send the ship to Antigua then, sir?”

  “She's supposed to be the flagship of Fleet 1. I think John will give her back,” the admiral said with a slight hint of disapproval. “I don't want Amadeus to get his hands on her. He'd never send her back,” he said, thoroughly disgusted.

  “Do you think he's okay, sir?”

  The admiral eyed the chief of staff and then looked away. “I don't know,” he said quietly. “We won't know until he gets into Protodon and takes the system or is bounced out.”

  “I see, sir.” the chief of staff shook himself slightly. “Well, if you want a contingency plan to look into Epsilon Triangula and south, that mean's she'll need legs and the firepower to handle anything she runs into, which means a tin can. I was thinking; if we can shave off a tin can from the convoys, it might work. We can swap out a pair of frigates since they are only making two system jumps. A side benefit is that they've been broken in compared to the new ships just coming out of the yards.”

  The admiral sat back thoughtfully in his chair and listened to the proposal with interest.

  Chapter 3

  The Neochimp rear admiral mused a bit as he watched the plot. He was always a bit maudlin while in transit; there was nothing to do but worry. He knew he wasn't as bad as Phil but bad enough. His problem was he wanted action. He wanted to do something. Running sim after sim palled after a while.

  They knew Hecate had made it this far. She had a sixteen-week head start, but she had been going slower than TF 22 initially. They were catching up despite their nine-week late start. Nine and a half weeks he thought with a pang. Those nine weeks had been precious; he'd had the ships doing workup exercises even while transiting across Antigua to the B-459c jump point as well as while they were in real space in the empty red dwarf system. He'd even managed to convince John to give him another squadron of fighters and a division of frigates during that time period. He suspected he'd need them badly in a few short weeks.

  He wuffled a sigh and then turned inward to think about how a forward deployment made sense even though he privately admitted he wasn't happy about the force mix or prep time involved. But moving forward took some of the pressure off Antigua. It allowed them to fight in someone else's backyard, protecting the vulnerable shipyards from attack. And they were moving in the right direction, toward Horath. March to the sound of the guns he thought in approval.

  His force was labeled 22 for Task Force 2 of Fleet 2. It was made up of the newly constructed Arboth class destroyer Yris'ka'th, Cutlass, Viper, two Horseshoe crab class frigates, four Apollo class corvettes, four gunships and four squadrons of fighters led by First Lieutenant Meia. Two of her squadrons were scattered in the boat bays of the three destroyers; the two others were stored in one of the freighters that was acting as their fleet train. The gunships were attached to the sides of Cutlass like limpet fish to a shark.

  They had gotten around to fleet labels, though Amadeus wasn't certain what the point was at the time. Ships stationed at Pyrax were labeled First Fleet. Antiguan ships were Second Fleet. His force was Task Force 2 of Second Fleet, the first task group being made up of the battle cruiser Maine and the ships that had remained behind in Antigua to defend the system and vital shipyards there. He was exercising fleet command for the first time, and although he'd expected to run a screen of destroyers or a cruiser or even a battle cruiser division, it was the best they could do. And Irons assured him they would have more ships in the pipeline for him as follow-ons to thicken his forces. They'd damn well better be in the pipeline he thought. They'd better have them to him soon too; he was pretty sure he was going to feel buck ass naked pretty damn soon. Their forward deployment was a bit risky, but no one won a war by sitting on their ass.

  He shook his head and tugged on an earlobe at his train of thoughts. Finally he exhaled slowly and turned to what really bothered him.

  He had strict orders to not to risk his command if the odds were against them. He didn't like it, but he understood the reasoning. He'd seen it during the Xeno war. It was better to lose a world and star system and fall back rather than get annihilated and lose the people he had with him. They'd gone through that hard Darwinian logic during the Xeno war. It was contrary to everything the fleet stood for, to die to protect the civilians under their care. But they had to be realists and take the big picture. They had more than one world at stake and only so many assets. Not only the ships, but also the personnel involved. Each was a precious resource not to be abused or expended lightly.

  He and the other sleepers had become acutely acquainted with how far down the well the Federation had fallen. More like off a cliff he thought with a shake of his head. He never imagined being in such a scenario. Irons had been making bricks without straw for a while; hopefully, with people like Amadeus, Phil, and the other sleepers, they would stiffen things up. Lead by example. And pass on some of their hard-earned knowledge to those who were joining them.

  One medium freighter turned tender-transport trailing along behind his warships was loaded with a platoon of marines and their equipment. Another was loaded with gear to picket a jump point. Just one jump point and not a lot of gear given that it was a medium class freighter. The large freighter carried a precious ansible as well as some spare parts, a small automated gas refinery platform, and two fighter squadrons. The last freighter was a lumbering bulk freighter stuffed to the deck heads with missile pods. She was his ace in the hole, a missile collier. They were going to be a long way from home. She didn't have the doors and fire control that Lassie had, but she'd do just fine. He didn't want to shoot himself dry; they'd have to fight smart.

  The tanker and courier he hardly thought about. The tanker was a medium ship, the smallest in the fleet's tanker group but also the fastest. Not that the added speed did them any good with the bulk freighter slowing them down he thought with a mental grimace. The courier was their fastest ship, but they had been so common in his day he hardly thought of it.

  “We're getting close to the exit to B-458, Admiral,” Ensign Rich Marshall stated. “A little late but better late than never. Once we've gotten Hecate's download, then the work begins.”

  The AI was a dumb AI created by Commander Sprite. He wasn't one of the canned AIs she had created from templates for Pyrax, but he did keep a human form. He'd grown a bit but didn't have the speed and flexibility of a smart AI. Since he was newly brought online, he was also feeling out his position. He'd settled in nicely in Yris'ka'th though despite the skipper's grumbling about wanting a Naga AI.

  Marshall hadn't been blind to the ship he inhabited though. He'd chosen the name of the marine lieutenant who'd been on board the S'rnoth under Commander Yris'ka'th and had taken over the XO's position when her XO had been killed in the initial clash.

  The admiral eyed the dumb AI and then turned away. “No, that won't be until we get to Protodon.” Late indeed he thought. Three days late jumping out and then they'd lost two more on the way due to minor but vexing engineering hiccups with his flagship. Not an auspicious beginning.

  “I meant my work, sir. I'll have a lot of processing to do.”

  “That you will. Sifting through the data will be fun. We're only staying in B-458 long enough to get Hecate sorted o
ut, refuel and rearm, then we're going in. You'd better work fast then.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The chimp nodded in dismissal and then returned to his thoughts. He'd wished for his own AI chief of staff, but the Arboth didn't have the computer support to handle two AI tied to her network. Or to put it in proper context, Marshall wasn't willing to share his network with another AI.

  Amadeus shook his head. The skipper had given up his quarters to the Admiral in a grand selfless gesture. He wouldn't forget it, though it put some of the other officers out since that had filtered down the chain. He had to remind himself that the destroyer really wasn't set up as a flagship. He needed a cruiser. A heavy cruiser at a minimum. He'd get a cruiser even if he had to snatch Firefly, if she ever showed up in his AO that was. He doubted that would happen anytime soon.

  It was … not quite foolish but a bit premature perhaps to have put the large ship on patrol in the western side of the sector. Sure they were showing the flag, catching people up, and maybe chasing out the occasional pirate but what could one ship accomplish? He shook his head. Yeah, they'd taken down that Cutlass; he was grateful for that. But still, he could use them on the front.

  ---<>---<>---

  Five days late TF22 jumped into B-458 and caught the encrypted Identify Friend or Foe transmission of the waiting frigate. They put in a whisker laser call as they flashed their IFF through the flagship's tachyon transceiver.

  Four hours later they got the transmission from across the empty system. Captain Gruber seemed grateful and relieved to see them. “Better late than never, Admiral. It's good to see you.”

  Admiral White nodded. “We'll meet up and you can pass the data over to us. But transmit your synopses now so we can get started.”

  Three hours and forty-six minutes later they got the reply. “Aye aye, sir,” the captain said, going straight to business. “The air is getting a bit thick over here, Admiral; we're looking forward to hooking up soon.”