by Chris Hechtl
Meia oversaw the shuttles moving about the fleet and up and down to the planet. Security had to escort the sulking passengers off, a few were not pleased about the turn of events. She had little sympathy for them; they'd gotten enough of a free meal as it was.
“We've got two loads of gear to send down before we bring down the next group on shore leave and pick up the first. Is the admiral serious about making so much gear and just giving it away?” She demanded.
“Ours is not to reason why,” Major Gustov said, shaking his head. “You know we're bringing up recruits too?”
“That's another thing! Who's processing them downstairs?”
“Apparently some have been preselected by Lieutenant White Wolf. All are qualified, many have combat experience in the recent dust up they had.”
“You'd think they'd want to keep them down there,” Meia grumbled.
The major eyed her for a moment. “What's up with you?” he finally asked.
“Nothing,” she said with a slight petulant tone.
He snorted. “Bullshit. You don't like milk runs?”
“I wanted more flight time yes. But in a fighter not a damn garbage scow,” the lieutenant answered with a grimace. The major grunted a laugh. “Yeah right, go ahead yuck it up,” Meia grumbled.
“We can't always get what we want. I'm going to send down a contact team. Someone with experience who can scan the recruits and weed the goats from the sheep.”
“You know most of them are Neos right?”
The major nodded. “So I doubt we'll have trouble with getting them over the fear of killing someone. That could be a good or very bad thing,” he mused, walking off.
...*...*...*...*...
Dita had the duty to haul two passengers up to the fleet along with the new recruits. She eyed the white wolf, unsure of her. She was definitely too old to be a recruit. The young girl with her seemed able though.
“Thank you, Ensign,” the wolf said when they debarked. “Nice flying,” she said, flicking her ears and even giving the pilot a slight smile.
“Um, yes, ma'am,” Dita said with a nod.
“I was going to ask where the admiral is, but it seems he's come to meet me himself,” the wolf said, nodding to the two senior officers approaching the craft. They made their way through the throng of milling recruits.
“Someone get this cluster-grope under control or I'm going to have someone's ass and not in a good way!” the major snarled, pausing to turn to the group. That stiffened a few spines and raised some hackles. One or two bears even had the timidity to growl at the major.
“As you were,” the lieutenant said from the open hatch. All of the Neo eyes turned to her. She nodded. “Sir, Lieutenant Moira White Wolf reporting as requested,” she said eyes cutting to the admiral. She paused and brought herself erect to salute Admiral Irons and then the major. Her ears flicked slightly to the marine.
“First things first, Lieutenant,” a holographic avatar of Loberstman said, striding through the group. His image flickered through those who didn't step aside fast enough. The Neos were suddenly a lot more respectful it seemed.
“Ah yes, permission to come aboard?” She asked, saluting the ensign.
“Permission granted,” the ensign replied. She turned and saluted the ship's colors and the flag of the Federation, then stepped down the gang plank to the waiting officers below.
“Here, grandma,” Cali said, pulling a staff out of the shuttle and handing it to her. The wolf nodded and moved down the ramp at a slow but dignified pace.
“Time has been hard on this body,” she murmured to the admiral.
“I see that,” the admiral said, scanning her thoroughly. Her advanced age was working against her. He'd considered recruiting her for the fleet but after the instant respect she'd provoked from the recruits he thought it might be best to leave her behind. But he sent a note to Sprite to have Doctor Che do a thorough work up on the good lieutenant before she debarked. The least they could do was get her sorted out medically.
“This is, well,” the wolf flicked an ear to Cali. The teen shrugged. “Cali. My, I guess you could call aide. Shadow,” she said in amusement.
“Understudy,” Cali murmured. “Though I'm told I'm too young to join the corps,” she said, looking at the major as she put her hand out.
He shook it and nodded. “We'll keep a rack for you little lady. When you're old enough, it'll be there waiting,” he said.
The teen cracked a smile. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it,” she said.
“If you'll come this way sirs and madam?” the ensign said, waving a hand to the waiting hatch into the ship. Irons nodded.
...*...*...*...*...
When the lieutenant settled herself into the flag wardroom's chair, she waved off the concerned look from Cali. “I'm not going to melt young lady, relax,” she said.
Cali snorted, then shook her head. She got up without asking and went into the pantry. After a moment she came back with a steaming cup of tea which she presented to the wolf. “Does anyone else want something?”
The major cleared his throat in surprise and shook his head.
“Coffee,” the admiral said, raising a finger as the young woman's eyes turned to him. “Black,” he said. She nodded.
“So, from what we've gotten of the story, young Cali here was picked up by some of your people and they in turn took her and her siblings to you. And you ...”
“Let me start from the beginning, sir,” White wolf said, smiling and flicking her ears. She rested her left hand on a panel embedded in the table top in front of her. After a moment Lobsterman accepted her access and then accepted the file she transmitted. He passed a copy on to Sprite then allowed the Neowolf access to the table's holographic emitters.
“I went down to pick up the assault shuttle after hopping civilian shipping to the planet, but I was left behind. I couldn't get her flight worthy with the resources I had, and well, the people around me were in bad straights so I stayed.”
“She became a legend among the Neo communities,” Cali said loyally as she handed the admiral a cup of coffee. She put another cup in front of her and then took her jacket off. “I had heard a little about her but not a whole hell of a lot. That changed later,” she said with a tight lipped smile to the Neowolf. “Meeting a legend,” she teased, shaking her head.
“And now you've met two,” the wolf said, nodding her muzzle to the admiral. “And he's not just a local legend, he's a galactic legend,” she said, flicking her ears again. She seemed highly amused to see Cali's eyes widen like saucers.
“You were saying, Lieutenant?” the admiral asked mildly, ignoring the fandom.
“The communities in the outback were in danger of going feral. I did my best to stop that but it wasn't easy. The community leaders didn't want contact with the rest of the world, they'd withdrawn. I had to, well, knit them back together. Reintroduce trade, education, and medicine to them. It wasn't easy,” she said with a sigh.
“And she kept doing it,” Cali said. “Sleeping in stasis whenever she wasn't needed.”
“And that's what brings me here. Cali and her siblings were running from the Horathians. They encountered ...”
...*...*...*...*...
"We're going to promote Lieutenant White Wolf to captain. Any objections?" Irons asked, turning to the major.
“Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I can't use her. I mean, I could, but she'd undermine my authority as well as the authority of the other marine officers in the fleet. She has, well, call it a bond with the other Neos. I suppose we could use it but ...” the major shrugged.
“Relax, Major. I'd like to have her on hand but she would do better on the planet. I've already considered the situation. Has she reported to Doctor Che yet?” he asked, turning to Sprite's avatar.
“She has indeed. Doctor Che was a bit put out over having to process the new recruits then get handed a geriatric case. But the last recruit educated her on her importance so she's
being treated like a visiting VIP.”
“Which she is regardless of rank,” the admiral said. “She's the de facto leader of the planet no matter what their constitution says. Definitely their military leader,” he said.
“So ...”
“So, we're going to promote her, clean her up, get her fixed up as much as possible, then give her the option of going back down to keep an eye on her people. I think she'll accept it. She's got a lot invested in them, she has no intention of just walking away from them now,” the admiral said.
“Understood, sir,” the major replied with a nod of relief.
“She wants a fleet presence in orbit, sir; that's one of the topics she came up to discuss,” Lobsterman reported. “Her aide just reminded her of that.”
“That's a problem,” the admiral replied with a sigh. “I'm not sure how to handle it properly.”
“A picket, sir?”
“A picket would have to be substantial to fend off anything the Horathians send into the system. That means both tin cans at least. I'm not willing to do that,” the admiral murmured. He shook his head.
“What about that captured ship?”
“She's a Clydesdale. They've patched her back together after they boarded and took her. I've got Sindri going over her with a fine tooth comb. They've got two weeks from the day we entered orbit to get her ship shape again. He's running Carnegie to try to do what he can with what he has.”
“Is that why you are dipping into the reserves we've built up before coming here, sir?” Sprite asked carefully.
“I'd be more reluctant to do that but they have a need and we've got a surplus. Besides,” he made a face. “It's good to free up some room for more bodies,” he said.
“Which we are getting. A lot of them. Thousands are already swarming the space port to sign up. I think they think we're going to be staying here,” the major cautioned.
“Which means I'll have to disabuse them of that notion. But we will be back,” Irons said. “We will or the fleet.”
“Channeling MacArthur, sir?” Sprite asked with a chuckle.
He eyed her then snorted slightly, ignoring the dig. “The major has sent down a contact team to begin processing applicants. We need to do that for the navy side as well. Though something tells me most of them will be more interested in his shop,” the admiral said, eying the major. “Most Neos are more ... hands on,” he said carefully.
“Each species has its quirks too,” Sprite sighed. “And their black sheep that doesn't want to be buttonholed in any one category. The good news is I've picked up some inquiries from a few interested in being pilots.”
“Good,” the admiral nodded cautiously.
“But, before you ask, no selkies. Or dolphins or others. A few otters, but ...” Sprite shrugged helplessly. Irons winced. Otters were passable pilots but they were flighty. Fun, but they had the attention span of a gnat sometimes. He grimaced.
“We're going to set something up. I'm already assembling a navy recruiting team. Two actually, since we'll have applicants every waking moment it seems and only so much time to process them. I'll need to be on hand virtually to deal with a lot of the in processing,” the AI cautioned.
“Which means you'll be using up a lot of bandwidth. Thank you, Commander, forewarned is forearmed I suppose,” Lobsterman quipped.
“Cute.”
“How far are we going to take arming them? I don't mean to seem the miser here sir, but we have a need too,” Lobsterman said, looking expectantly at Admiral Irons.
“We're not going to drain our cargo holds dry. And no, I'm not leaving them fighters,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “We can top off their ship with fuel of course, possibly even leave them some bladders ... maybe even the gas giant,” he mused, scratching at his jaw and upper lip.
“Can they support and maintain much?”
“They've got the Clydesdale too. T44327. They've managed to keep her running so far,” Sprite said. “Which reminds me,” she turned her attention to Irons. “I can't be everywhere at once. We need an Intel team to go over to that ship and inspect it. Preferably before Sindri gets his mitts on it. And definitely before anyone tampers with her computers. Do we know what happened to her surviving crew?”
“It's not in the lieutenant's report?” the major asked. The AI shook her head no. “Then we'll need to find out. It wouldn't put it past them to space the lot. I probably would have,” he growled.
“Or done worse considering what they'd done groundside,” Lobsterman agreed.
“Defender, you get to oversee the Intel processing. Anything that can wait, waits. Index it, log it for future processing, then move on. I know we're on the clock. Get it done.”
“I'll need additional processing space and memory admiral,” Defender said coldly. “Commander Sprite is occupying the computers in the flag bridge.”
“We'll figure something out,” the admiral said. “Even if I have to replicate more,” he sighed.
“Sir, we're getting ...” Lobsterman paused, one hand to his ear then nodded. “Sir, CIC reports a ship has just jumped in at the B452c jump point.”
“Damn,” the major murmured.
“Class?”
“Too early to tell,” Lobsterman said.
“Go dark. Put the fleet on yellow alert. See if you can get more from any recon drones in the area,” he ordered.
“On it sir.
...*...*...*...*...
Within hours they had their answer. It was a single ship judging from her emissions. She seemed to hold course on the jump point for a few minutes, it paid to be cautious the admiral thought. Their long range sensors delicately felt her out. They couldn't get anything visually for some time, it would take hours for the light of their arrival to get to the fleet, but their neutrino detectors could puzzle her out a bit. Judging from her size and power plant emissions she was another Clydesdale, a rather nondescript common freighter. That didn't mean she was Horathian, but it didn't mean she wasn't either.
While they waited for something to happen Sprite pulled up the recordings of Admiral Rico and created a virtual avatar of him. It would serve as a puppet for her to interact with the crew if the need arose. She even polled what recordings they had of him, creating a library of mannerisms and vocal bits for her to use. It wouldn't fool someone who knew the admiral personally, but she hoped the long range and poor equipment would hide his virtual nature. Just to be on the safe side she programmed a bit of a random squelch into the transmission signal. That should keep the conversations short.
Once the ship realized they were in orbit, she transmitted a Horathian IFF. She was the T67385. Lobsterman flashed the Queen Adrienne IFF in return. Twelve hours later they got a signal from the ship. They were already entering the system, shaping a course to rendezvous with them at the planet.
The conversation would take hours on each end. Hours of letting their nerves stretch out. Would they screw up somehow and give the game away? Allowing the prey to escape? If they did, what would that mean? Was there another force of pirates in Protodon ready to pounce? And if they left, what would that mean to the planet.
Irons could see the doubt and nagging worry etched on a few faces. He just settled himself calmly. It would work or it wouldn't. The good news was each bit of wait time would give Sprite additional time to perfect her virtual puppet and his performance. “Incoming transmission, sir,” Lobsterman reported.
“Play it.”
The relief on the face of the Horathian captain was palatable, even just from his visual transmission. “It is great to see you admiral Rico! You and your ships! We're on fumes here. We're out of fuel, we have just enough to make orbit. If we don't get some more we'll have reactor shutdown. I'm glad to see T44327 still here as well! I'd thought she'd be long gone by now.”
“They are having trouble with the weather and tracking dirt side and needed additional support.”
“I heard that when we passed through the system earlier sir. Sorry we could
n't stop then, we had our orders.”
Once that latest exchange played out the Rico doppelganger started another. There was no point not fishing for information Sprite judged. It would be suspicious if they didn't. “What happened? You were supposed to be elsewhere.”
“You don't know? Oh, of course not. Silly me, I forgot, we were dispatched well after you left so you don't know our mission. Captain Opal on Argus was our partner. We were dispatched to pick up the alpha list wherever intelligence had identified a potential source. Argus picked off a fat ass bulk freighter, the one that bastard Irons had been on,” the captain went on to explain. Sprite looked at the admiral. He set his jaw grimly but his entire focus was on the recording. “Then that nosy Fed cruiser came snooping around. We nearly got past her but she got a piece of Argus. Captain Opal was fighting a pretty good running retreat engagement with them until a pair of ships jumped in. He thought that he could chew them up and leave them for the cruiser to protect but they had other ideas.”
“And you ran?” Rico's image asked with just a hint of scorn in his voice.
“I followed orders, sir,” the captain said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Rico's simulation nodded curtly. “Understood. And Argus?”
“The last we saw of her before we were out of range she was getting hammered. Most likely she's been lost, sir, sorry.”
“Damn,” Irons said mildly.
The captain nodded. “Yes sir. I know Captain Opal, he wouldn't have gone down quietly, sir. He took a good bite out of them. They'll know they've been hurt. And he's not likely to talk either,” he said.
“Wait, why are you here?” he said, frowning.
“New orders,” Rico's avatar replied with a shrug. “I received them a few months ago. Intel said that Pyrax is too heavily fortified on the B101a1 jump point so I'm to meet up with Admiral Cartwright, consolidate our forces, then go after Pyrax together.”
“Um, you may want to hold off on that sir, we heard about a juicy target in Antigua. A factory station that bastard Irons found.”
