by Chris Hechtl
“You didn't let any grass grow under you. We appreciate the efforts you made to get here,” Amadeus stated.
“Thank you, sir. And maybe my chief engineer and nav team will speak to me again one day,” Commander Mrix said wryly, flicking his ears. The admiral blinked at him. “I wasn't kidding about pushing it, sir. We hit the eighth octave of Gamma in transit. We burned through a lot of fuel and put a bit of extra wear on our hyperdrive and nodes that the chiefs are undoubtedly not happy about. Mine has stopped complaining, but he's still sulking and fuming.”
“What's a little lost time on components among friends,” Admiral White joked. “Believe it or not,” he said leaning in to take the commander in confidence. “Although they bitch and whine, engineers like to punch it too. It feels good, and they get the excuse to gripe and break out the tools to run maintenance.”
The captain grinned. “Yes, sir, I know. Not that I'm going to let on that I know,” he joked.
“Believe me, they know that you know,” Amadeus replied, straightening. “It's all a game until something really breaks or the bean counters get involved.”
“They always need to spoil everyone's fun,” the captain mock pouted.
“Now, now, the paper pushers need their day too,” the admiral scolded with a smirk. “Right, Lieutenant?” he asked, pitching his voice so Jojo could hear.
She looked up, her eyes narrowed. She shook a fist at him, then shook her head and went back to the tablet she was working on.
Amadeus snorted as did both of the captains.
“See?”
“I heard that,” Jojo growled. “And unless you want me to “accidentally” order you pink floral underwear instead of your usual, you'd better behave,” she said, not looking up from her station.
There was a general muffled chuckle from the bridge watch. Trajan snorted.
“Oh, I don't know. Pink's not really my color, but a floral print …” Amadeus grinned. The captain chuckled as Jojo placed her free hand over her eyes and shook her head. Mrix just flicked his ears at the byplay.
“We've made good time with the repairs,” Amadeus said. “Every ship is above 75 percent. That's the good news.”
“We're transferring fighters and bombers now, sir,” Kyle reported. “Ordinance is next.”
“Good.”
He turned to the two officers. “The problem is where we go from here. I think that a lot of people aren't going to like my answer. But I have a plan. If it works, well, we'll lose ground temporarily but we'll get it back and then some while paying the enemy back for what they did in B-97A. Pay them back permanently,” he growled.
“I like the sound of that,” Trajan said.
“I thought you would. But, it has a price to be completely honest, Commander,” he said, turning to the Chimera. “I appreciate your ships, but I'd hoped you'd have a bit more weight behind you.”
“I know Maine and Justice are on their way, sir. They should be getting to Protodon shortly,” the commander replied. “I already sent that in the updates but,” he fished out a flash chip out of his breast pocket and held it up, “I brought a physical copy along, sir.”
“I'll take that, thank you,” Kyle said holding his hands out in a cupping motion. He caught the chip and then inserted it.
“Unfortunately, I don't think we have the time to wait. I wish … no, never mind. We'll deal with it.”
“Understood, sir,” Trajan said, finally catching on. Amadeus glanced his way then nodded slightly.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral White surveyed the group as the last of them filed into the mess. It was risky having all the ship captains on board, but he needed to do this face to face, not over the radio network. Therefore, he had called them onto Lady Liberty after Jojo and the XO had set up the officer's mess as an impromptu conference room.
He had considered various strategies to deal with the juggernaut headed their way. He'd initially settled on a fighting withdrawal but he had too many damaged ships to contend with. The two extra carriers, as well as the extra fighters and bombers they'd taken on helped replenish his carrier force to full. However, that was the one bright spot in his arsenal.
Only the newly arrived ships and the carriers were above 90 percent. Most of his battle cruisers were rated at 75 percent combat effective or lower. Anything at half had already been sent back, and he knew his people were willing to fight, but he also knew it would be a slug fest. If any of the ships took a significant drive hit, they'd have to be abandoned.
So after a night of agonizing it, he'd made the hard call, and hence the meeting. They deserved to hear it straight from him if he had any chance of keeping their confidence in him. Once they were all seated, he took the podium.
“I'll make this quick, folks, since I, like the rest of you, do not like having all of our eggs in one basket at this time,” he said. That would normally have caused a smile but instead it just caused an uncomfortable shuffle and squirm.
“Right, on to business,” he said gruffly. “I brought you here to let you know what we're doing. After considerable thought and despite the reinforcements,” he nodded to Commander Mrix, “I have decided to fall back on Protodon. There we can make repairs and replenish in full.”
“Sir?” Trajan asked as others gasped and gaped at him. “We can take them,” he said.
“Maybe. But not without heavy losses of our own. I'm not in this to win by any expense like that. Not when there are other options available.”
“We can take them, sir. They've been hurt too,” Renee pointed out.
“I know that,” he replied, turning to her. “I've got something long term in mind.”
She frowned thoughtfully.
He turned back to address the group as a whole. “I'm not going to open this up to debate people. We are the navy; we have a chain of command for a reason. I also have my reasons for following this plan. Consider it not a retreat but a temporary strategic withdrawal. We are giving ground in order to regroup some more and fall back on prepared defenses, while giving our ships additional time to continue their repairs and resupply and giving the ships en route to aide us more time to get to Protodon.”
“But …,” Renee frowned when he held up a restraining hand.
“Let the record show this is my decision alone,” Amadeus said in an iron tone of voice. “You may register your complaints for the record when I am finished laying out my plan. Wait until then,” he ordered.
Trajan frowned as he surveyed the group. “I can't speak for everyone, sir, but I doubt there will be anything more than pro-forma protests, sir. The real question is why. I, like the others, know you don't have to explain your reasoning …” he left that up for the admiral to take up.
“I don't just want a standoff with the enemy fleet. I don't want to beat them back. I want what you want, to obliterate them,” the Neochimp flag officer replied with a grimace. There were nods around the table. “If we fight as we are, we're going to get hurt—hurt bad. Ordinarily I'd say that it is a part of the service; it is something we all know and try to minimize but must ultimately face as we bring hurt to the enemy. But there is an alternative; one I want to use. I want to regroup with the reinforcements coming from Pyrax and especially Antigua, suck the enemy in, and then blow the ever loving shit out of them once and for all,” he growled.
There were instant nods and soft growls of agreement from the assembled officers.
:::{)(}:::
Jojo shook her head as she worked on the reports. She eyed the staff. She heard the rumors, some were hard to ignore. She couldn't help but bristle at them though. “Something bothering you, Lieutenant?” a familiar male voice asked.
She jumped, startled, then turned to the admiral. His brown eyes gleamed in subdued humor at catching her off guard. “Sir, sorry um …”
“I know,” he said softly.
She blinked. “Sir?”
“I know what they are thinking. What the people back home will think. That I lost my nerve. T
hey aren't right, I think you know that.” She nodded. “But they aren't completely wrong either. I know what we're up against, and I don't like fighting even battles.”
“Sir …,” Jojo started, but he held up a restraining hand. She bit back her next words as he continued.
“There is an old saying about naval men. That we're hunters, predators. People make a big deal about honor. That's true in some respects, but something else is as well. You don't let the enemy have a chance to shoot back. You take every opportunity to win. A good naval officer is a lot like an assassin; you stab the enemy in the back and keep stabbing until there is nothing left but gore.”
Jojo swallowed then nodded. “I think I remember a quote, old general from World War II, along those lines. Something about it's not your duty to die for your country?” she asked.
Amadeus snorted. “Patton. Good general, full of shit in some cases, but damn good on the battlefield. I don't remember the exact quote either, and I'm too lazy to look it up at the moment,” he said, pursing his lips. “But the rest of it goes something like 'let some other poor devil die for his,’” he said.
She nodded, face blossoming slightly in a smile. “That's it, sir,” she said.
“I know. Doesn't quite fit this situation though,” Amadeus said. Her smile congealed then fell. “Like I said, I don't want a slug fest. And right now, I don't care if they hate me. They'll understand soon enough.”
“Yes, sir. For the record, I don't think anyone hates you. They are confused but …,” Jojo shrugged helplessly. “And you don't have to explain yourself. We know that too. It makes things easier when you do though sir.”
“I know, which is why I do it. Probably a bad habit, I don't know. A little bit of Admiral Irons rubbing off on me I suppose. I know he thought that it was best that everyone was on the same page and understood what you have in mind. He has a point to a degree; blind obedience to orders causes rigid formality and stifles initiative.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don't sweat what you can't change, Lieutenant. They'll get over it.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Jojo replied with a nod.
:::{)(}:::
“We're doing the right thing, aren't we?” Garfield asked Kyle softly as the ship prepared to jump.
He'd spent the past four days fruitlessly attempting to convince the admiral to allow them to keep a small force and the missile pods to bloody the enemy nose. Admiral White had been unmoved by the scheme. He had, however, come up with an alternative that should buy them some additional time … if Shepard and her division mate could pull it off.
It would be tricky, but Captain Song insisted he was up to the challenge.
“Falling back makes sense. I know it's hard, and I know it sucks. He's making the hard call. We have got to keep our forces intact. Right now we're all that stands between that fleet and Protodon.”
“I know. I don't like it though.”
Kyle snorted. “Welcome to the club,” he said, clapping the orange Neocat on the arm before he left him to go to his own station.
Pulling Second Fleet back instead of fighting a fighting withdrawal was already hitting morale hard Kyle knew. The crews knew that the pickets were going to remain behind, which bothered a few. Hell, it bothered him he thought, looking at the plot and then to the countdown. But it was something he couldn't change.
It was a risk to leave the two picket LCs under stealth to watch over the star system—even more so to leave a courier that lacked stealth ability as well. But it would also serve a purpose. The courier would remain behind at the jump point with her hyperdrive charged and ready to go.
Two days ago they'd deployed the last of their decoys. Shepard and Almirante Grau were going to have fun with them, he thought.
The moment the enemy's hyper translation was detected, the two ships would go into full silent running. The dozens of decoys seeded throughout the star system would help them play a delaying action with the enemy force should it arrive.
Meanwhile UFDV-010S would remain at the jump point. She would undoubtedly draw the enemy's attention, at least initially. She would also receive tactical updates from the two picket ships as they played their games. Hopefully, they would be able to get the enemy to burn some fuel and clock time on their hardware as well some real time chasing ghosts.
He didn't bet on it though. The enemy commander was smart.
He knew some people like Captain Mayweather had held out hopes that the admiral would have reconsidered in their journey across the star system or that'd he'd have some sort of alternative plan, like waiting in hyperspace for the enemy to arrive and then coming out on top of him or some such foolish stunt.
It wasn't going to happen. He was the admiral's OPS officer; no such plan had been devised, let alone simulated or passed on to the other ship. No, they were retreating again. It burned, but that was the way it was apparently.
“Initiating jump in five … four … three … two … one,” Alec said, voice rising in tension as they got closer to zero. “Jump!” he said in exultation.
The main view screen seemed to blur out as the stars turned into lines, then it was turned into the familiar image of hyperspace. They were committed he thought, letting out an exhaled breath. One way or another, they'd see how the admiral's ploy would play out.
Chapter 24
Admiral De Gaulte felt a mixture of anticipation and a slight trace of fear as Executioner finished her downward translation from hyperspace. They were being cautious, translating just outside the normal jump zone space in B-95a3, hopefully in a location and on a heading the waiting enemy wouldn't expect.
His fleet had been forced to drop their speed twice, down to the mid-levels of Alpha band that had stretched their transit time by nearly double. It bothered him a great deal, more because the enemy would have time to rush reinforcements to Protodon than almost anything else.
Well, there was that whole ability to repair faster than he could. That gnawed at him a little too he admitted privately.
But their arrival in B-95a3 seemed anticlimactic.
“Sir, CIC reports …,” Berney turned to him in confusion.
“I see it,” the admiral said, leaning forward to study the plot. “Empty.”
“It seems that way. It's still prudent to be cautious. They could be in stealth, sir,” Catherine warned.
“Agreed. Deploy recon drones and a fighter patrol ahead of us,” the admiral ordered. Drop recon drones behind us as well.”
“Yes, sir,” Myron stated.
“They are there to be used, Commander. If we expend them, so be it. But if we can recover them, all the better,” the admiral said.
“I know that, sir. I also know we have a finite number in our inventory though,” Lieutenant Chekov reminded him.
“Agreed,” the admiral stated. He turned away from the tactical officer to face Catherine. “Scan the system thoroughly. Have the fighters out as beaters. I don't want to run into any unexpected surprises like minefields or stealthed ships.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“If we're still clear in an hour, let the engineers get to work on repairs while we're underway. They won't like it, but it's all the opportunity I'm going to give them at this time. Remind them not to squander the time bitching and moaning about the danger.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Catherine replied with a slight trace of an approving smile.
“Glad you approve. Now, the question is, why the hell did he run?”
“We hurt them worse than we'd thought?”
“I know we did some damage, how sensitive are they though? I'm still wondering if they are lurking in stealth,” the admiral mused as he stepped away from the holographic plot. Catherine followed in his wake. “Have CIC check all the hiding spots. Make sure we have a rear guard at all times. I wouldn't put it past him to send a bomber strike up our ass or into our flank.”
“Aye aye, sir. If he isn't here?”
“Then we'll lick our wounds some more and prepare to send a scout to Nuev
o Madrid with the planned mission,” the admiral replied. “I want to make sure our back is cleared. Though they could be lurking in hyper too,” he growled, turning back to study the plot. “CIC, run an ion trace. Map the traffic and see if you can detect any hyper jumps and how recent they were.”
“Aye aye, sir.” A PO replied. He turned and started issuing orders to his crew.
“That being said,” the admiral said, turning back to his OPS officer. “You were saying?”
The princess hesitated then nodded. “I'll pull up the mission plan you outlined, sir. Do you want to amend anything, sir?” Catherine asked.
The admiral paused to think then shook his head. “My memory isn't what it used to be. I hate getting old,” the admiral said with a brief, slim smile. “Run it past me once more before you transmit it, Commander. I'll read it tonight, a little bed time reading I suppose. In the meantime, pick a tin can division that can handle the job. One fast enough to get in and out with a skipper wise and cautious enough to get the job done and word back without getting into trouble.”
“A tall order, sir. Tin can captains are paid to be aggressive,” Catherine mused. “I can look around I suppose. Just getting rid of two of our late pickups to allow us more speed might be nice,” she said.
The admiral frowned then shrugged at the suggestion. “Whatever you think can get the job done as long as it gets done right,” he warned with an upraised finger. She nodded. “And make sure they understand that,” he warned.
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
Two days later as they cautiously crossed the star system, he had to admit he was surprised when they hadn't found any sign of the federation forces in the empty star system. Of course there could be ships lurking in stealth, but none where he expected them. The admiral shook his head.
He had also been surprised that they hadn't found a single mine or trap at the B-97A jump point. Surprised initially until he remembered his opponent. White was a product of the old federation. He wouldn't have left a mine field unattended. Not with it being a danger to innocent shipping … not that there was any in this part of the sector anymore.
