It'll be good to have more than a third of our weapons online, Rick thought. He removed the news of the ship from his data pad, and the shuttle buffeted slightly before lowering as Rick stood.
He'd taken over Salchar's position at the negotiating table with Earth's representatives two weeks ago. He was having most of the same issues his boss had. The leaders had their aides talk to him more freely, which he hoped moved things along faster.
Though, nothing at all happening at a faster pace—was still nothing at all. So far, Rick was running into the same issues of nations holding onto their nationhood and not accepting that they were one planet, and thus they would be treated as such.
Getting an ambassador figured out between Earth and the Free Fleet had been a thing since the beginning of the talks, though it had taken three concentrated days to figure out the exact guidelines of what kind of person an ambassador of Earth should be.
Rick already knew that Commander Boot was going to be the man in the area, and as such, he would double as the Free Fleet's ambassador to Earth. That deliberation had taken Salchar a thought and a talk with the man to make the decision. Rick wished Earth's governments were as straight forward.
Rick was greeted by the regular throng of reporters, who he moved through easily. Krom had insisted on a personal guard and, with the media, Rick was thankful for their presence as two massive Avars seemed to push people away with their mere presence, their eyes causing even the bravest reporter to take an unconscious step back.
“What do you think of the tweets on Earth, paying to be part of a dictatorship?” someone asked and Rick mentally sighed at yet another one of the asinine questions the reporters threw at him.
“I think that the person that made that comment should go and read a historical or modern book on the military rank structure,” Rick said as other questions were hurled at him: about his supposed romantic involvement with Salchar, if he used steroids, when technology would be available for public purchase. Rick answered a few that actually could benefit someone by knowing the answer before he reached the hotel and the reporters stopped, crowding him, and began yelling their questions in louder voices.
Rick grabbed some food from the food table as people were wandering around the conference room, talking and mingling or taking their seats. Rick looked over the leaders of the world, becoming reflective.
These men control the nations of every human on this planet, yet I barely care for their opinion or am nervous in their presence. Before, I would've been looking around in awe and doing anything they asked. Now? Now, I see them as men, not rulers, but individuals that represent their people in varying different ways and are themselves as different from one another as possible. Yet they are all human, and all people that the Free Fleet will look after and die for if need be.
This is a strange fricking universe, Rick thought as he made no conclusions on the value of his own musings.
Rick noticed that the big players, the movers and shakers in the western and Asian world as well as the Russians, which Rick didn't really place with either, were looking to one another, their mannerisms speaking more than Rick thought he would be able to understand in their words as he leaned forward.
Could they be doing what I think? Rick thought as he looked to the president of the United States, who looked as if someone had pissed on his table.
Yep, looks like it. With America being used to being the one making demands, they were not happy when they were the ones being dictated what they had to give.
Rick didn't know about this new president either. The man wanted to take America back to a supposed golden age where the U.S. was master and commander of the Earth with a military that no one wanted to mess with. He bared looking at. Rick had not been blind to the careful hints that led him to think that if he wanted to go back to the U.S., he would have a place open for him, and that the U.S. was still trying to affect their claim over him as a member of the United States Air Force.
The presence of the chairman of the USAF had been a pretty big clue as to the president's desire to have Rick back in the fold.
I agree with Salchar. After this, I'm not touching politics, politicians, or any of this mess with a ten foot damned pole, he thought as the speaker arrived and everyone began making their way to their seats. The big leaders looked to one another as Rick's stomach screwed up in nerves and the speaker opened up the conference.
I wonder if our announcement to move the station had anything to do with this decision? he thought, shrugging.
****
The station and the majority of my ships were scheduled to move out in an hour, but I had two people I needed to touch base with first—Commander Boot and Heston.
They walked into the conference room, which had become my unofficial office.
“Commander Salchar,” Commander Boot said, about to give me a finger-tapping. I stopped it before he began, waving them to their seats.
“No need for all that nonsense here.” I grinned as Boot nodded and Heston relaxed slightly. He was obviously uncomfortable talking to someone high up. I had seen, in his personal file from Min Hae, that Heston was quite a relaxed commander, something that was an asset when dealing with fighter pilots nearly constantly.
“Alright, you two. As you know, the plan is for the fleet and Hachiro Station to move to Mars' orbit.
“You both know your missions. Boot is to scout as many systems as fast as possible, seeding them with sensor buoys, while Commander Heston will see to the protection of Earth.
“Now, I wanted to see if either of you had any issues. Boot?”
“No, sir, my mission’s much to easy for anyone to mess up.”
“Yes, but it is vital, nonetheless. Also, your scouting might find systems for us of tactical use.” He nodded. He might be slightly displeased with his mission, but I knew he would carry it out to the best of his abilities. I had more than a few feelers in his ranks who had reported on his stellar performance. Plus, his reviews from his previous commanders made me confident in his abilities.
“Heston?” Now, I hadn't talked to Heston much, and other than the files that Min Hae had sent, detailing the man's performance and knowledge of the fighters, his battle was the best that there was in the Fleet. His fighters, while being quite a small force, were hugely effective, as shown by their ability to keep my shuttles safe and take out shields as needed.
“I'm all good to go, though, I was wondering if Commander Xing and I could rename our carriers. C1 and C2 isn't very memorable.”
“What were you thinking?” I asked. I'd seen more than a few pilots in the entertainment district and, while they were ballsy and good at their job, they were by the whole a rambunctious bunch that rode by the seat of their pants and lived for the thrill of flying. Oh, and named everything.
“FengFang and Pandora,” he said, not batting an eyelid and I mentally praised his composure.
“FengFang, as in the Chinese word for hive, and Pandora as in Pandora's box?”
“Something along those lines.” A small smile crept on his face.
“Alright, I'll approve it.”
“Thank, you sir.” He grinned.
“How are your fighters and carriers, anyway?” I had read the reports, but it was always better to hear from the commander. Boot had already talked to me about the situation of his ships the last time we had met, if I asked him again it would be questioning his reliability, something that I had no issue with. Heston's face became somber as he recounted their situation from memory.
“Feng Fang got winged, but the sections that were damaged have been fixed.”
“Pandora had power issues, though with the new ideas coming from the meeting of information we're having with Earth, we've got new power lines in place to counter those issues. Our R and R time is not what I wished it was, but that comes with having basic haulers outfitted to be carriers instead of making a carrier from the ground up.”
“R and R?” I asked.
“Refuel and
Rearm.”
“Ah, have you submitted your thoughts to Felix?”
“I have every department writing a brief every week on what works and doesn't. Last communication I got from Felix, he said that he was going to see if he would be able to get one of the asteroid hulls for a proper carrier.”
“Don't worry, I've already okayed it. After seeing what your ships did in our last engagement, plus, with the surplus of fighters in Parnmal, it would be idiotic not to attempt to increase our fighter numbers and get them a true carrier, no offence.”
“None taken. I've basically just got an electrostatic contained ramp diagonally cut through a hauler at this time. A real carrier, now that's something I'm looking forward to.” He grinned and I smiled. While he might not be the man in a fighter cockpit, there was no denying that he was still a fighter pilot at heart. Chaleel had given him the bug. I just needed to make sure that he was ready to stay back instead of charging forward with his men.
“Also, I was wondering if you would okay one of my pet projects,” Heston said.
I leaned in. “Which would be?”
“Okay, so the fighters are good at killing missiles and have the ability to kill ships if they get close enough with their missiles. Yet, with only four missiles, the amount of damage that they do is pathetic. I was wondering if I could maybe take a fighter and modify it to be a bomber.” Seeing my hesitation, he continued.
“A bomber will have the thrust abilities of a fighter, yet it can hold many more missiles, even larger ones possibly. Meaning that ships aren't shooting against a few handfuls of missiles. Instead they're up against dozens of close ranged missiles. Each with the ability to maim or kill.”
I sat back in my chair, resting my elbow on it's armrest as I stroked my chin in thought.
“If you can give me positive simulations, I'll okay it. We don't have the resources to dive into something that might not be an advantage and will cost us a lot of resources.”
“I understand, sir.” I could see in his eyes that he did.
While there were a lot of things happening in the fleet, certain things had to be prioritized. I had to deny Eddie upgrading the weaponry the day before. It would improve our current weapons by thirty percent in range and power, yet the cost in resources and time was too much and would've meant not replacing two sections of armor, as well as putting a brace on one of the structural members of a destroyer.
My pad beeped at me and I picked it up.
“Well, looks like you'll be getting a little more firepower on your adventures, Boot. The shipment of weapons and miners has arrived.”
Boot nodded, and I couldn't help but grin. My fleet was still not fully armed, but at least we would seriously mess up someone's day if they crossed us.
I checked the time against the schedule as I stood.
“Well, good luck,” I said, shaking both of their hands as they too stood.
“I'll let you get back to your ships, and remember, if you need anything, ask.” I smiled as they nodded. The informality in the Free Fleet was something I enjoyed. Without it I would never know the men and women around me. It made my fight for them even harder as I knew that some of them might be sacrificed in order to let others live. It was a bloody calculation.
Yet, for today I didn't have to think about it. Heston asked me if I'd like to take the fighter test the next time I was near his carriers. I laughed but said no. I could handle dropping in a shuttle onto a planets surface. Being thrown around like a rag doll as my battle suit tried to keep me from blacking out from huge gravitational forces was something I thought was best left to the damned crazy fighter pilots.
I gave them both a two finger salute before I took my seat on Resilient's bridge.
“How long till we start moving Hachiro?”
“Twenty minutes,” Sook reported.
“Where's Shrift?”
“Making final checks,” Acting second in command Kawaga said, his face concentrated on his feeds. He'd played a lot of sniper games before the recruitment, a skill that had carried over to being in the Free Fleet. Yet, it was the patience and cunning, as well as a good ability to think on the fly, which had gained him the position of being Rick's understudy.
Yet, while he had got the position, I didn't know if he was happy with it. I made a note on my data pad as I continued. For now, I could do nothing about his position. I needed him where he was currently.
“Comms, confirm that the supply ships know where to rendezvous with us. Nav, I want you to confirm coordinates.”
“Shrift is saying that we are ready to go,” Comms said. I nodded.
I pressed Shrifts name on one of my screens and his voice came through my implants.
“We're ready.”
“I got that. Want to make the announcement?”
“You're the commander though.”
“Yeah, but you're the one that's put in all the hard work.”
“I should get a raise.” he said.
I laughed. “How about I let you pick your next posting instead of having Eddie just posting you to it.”
“Done!” he yelled, cutting the channel, making sure I couldn't go back as he came on through the fleet wide communications.
“Alright, let's move this damned station! Helms, people's, let's go!” A countdown started as Resilient computed how the ships attached to the station would have to move in order to get it to break free of Earth's orbit. The rest of the route had already been figured out by the navigators and helms personnel of the fleet.
For the next few days, the station and the Fleet would move, continuing on as they had when around Earth. There was no time to wait. There was always something to get done.
The bridge was tense for a few minutes before Helm relaxed.
“We're out of Earth's orbit, proceeding to Mar's orbit.” I connected to Shrift again.
“We good?”
“It seems so.” His tone told me he was sure something was going to go wrong.
“Good work, Shrift.”
“Thanks, James, never promote me again!” he said with feeling as I grinned.
“Noted. I'll leave you to it.”
Shrift cut off as I looked over the bridge, liking the feeling of actually being in command instead of having to do mountains of paper work and my thoughts turned to missing Yasu for a change.
After our talk, a lot of things had changed. We slept in the same bed, when I did sleep. We fought when we had time to and we ate together whenever possible.
I sent a message to her, asking to meet me for a meal if possible.
Putting off paper work? Mess hall C3. XO, she wrote.
I grinned. Paper work isn't everything.
***
I was walking through the gunnery decks, helping to get things ready for the new guns coming in when Rick contacted me.
“Sup?” I said, half out of breath as I pulled a burnt rail cannon from its housing.
“We have it!” he said, his voice clearly trying to hide his excitement as if there were others around him.
“We have what?” I asked, lowering the barrel to a grav cart with Krom. “Barrel done! One for recycler!” I yelled. One of the runners took the grav cart and I turned back to the gun, an overlay showing me what else needed to be pulled off of it.
“They've agreed to our contract for protection and they've finalized plans for getting humanity into space. I think that moving the station swayed them.”
I stared at the gun emplacement blankly.
“They've finally accepted it?”
“Yeah, and they've got their first payment of materials ready!”
“This is the kind of day we should get more often!” I said, sharing in his joy.
“Have you started recruitment?”
“Well, I've got the ones that signed up before everything that was okayed ready. Though, I'm going to need a few shuttles.”
I pulled out my data pad.
“How many?”
“Thirteen at least
, say, on a running turnover. Have some extras over here maybe?”
“I'll give you sixteen, broken into groups of four, they'll run every four hours,” I said as I gave orders to captains to pick shuttles to be ready to fly.
“Works for me. We also got the okay to have a base of operations. Russia won the bid. They are the ones giving the most in this deal. They're probably trying to get the one up on everyone in the resources industries again.”
“They do oh so love their oligarchies,” I said, thinking of the mega rich Russians that controlled unopposed oligarchies in Russia, pretty much doing as they pleased.
“Indeed.”
The topic made me think of Shirely Manley and I checked on her status.
“Looks like they'll have to compete with Shirely, though. She's setup and about to begin digging into no less than four asteroids, and she's made claims on twelve big ones.”
“Competition is the one thing that humanity knows the best of,” Rick said.
I nodded slightly. “Yes it is, unfortunately. Though, hopefully, we can use it to our advantage.”
“Hopefully.”
A notification popped up on my data pad. “I'm launching shuttles now; they'll be with you in two hours.”
“I'll be ready for them. I'll let you know if anything else happens.”
“We'll talk later, Rick,” I said and I cut the channel.
Weapons, armor, and technical parts, including miners from Parnmal, personnel from Earth. Earth's getting into space and we've got a mining group already set up and pumping out resources.
“We've got another two gun decks to go before we can even think about getting those weapons on board,” Chief Zior barked as he carried a focusing crystal the size of his forearm over his shoulder, chewing his famous gum.
I too had picked up the habit, but only when I was sparring with Yasu or going through training. Chief Zor seemed to chew non-stop. There was a rumor that he chewed even while he was sleeping.
“Come on, my gun bunnies!” he said as his peoples efforts doubled, the scarred, veteran gunner grinning.
Coming Home (Free Fleet Book 2) Page 15
