by Chris Hechtl
:::{)(}:::
Sedrick scowled as he read Myron's report. The tactical officer had confirmed the presence of far more ships than their active sensors had managed to see after careful processing of the raw visual data. Once he'd gotten a peek at something his CIC ratings had nailed down enough to confirm at least one operative BC squadron that had been slowly stalking them.
That changed things. That shifted the odds too firmly in the enemy's favor. The battle cruisers, dreadnaughts … and where the hell had they gotten the second one from? The seven CEVs, the CLV, it was too much to handle.
They'd lost three ships. That hurt. Granted two of them were only tin cans, but one had been a Nelson. Her fleet defense roll couldn't be underestimated after what they'd just experienced. But that wasn't the worst of it.
Nimitz had lost her entire fighter strength. That left them horridly vulnerable to another bomber attack.
No, the odds had shifted into the enemy's favor too much. So he considered the admiral's plan reckless to the point of madness.
But all he could do was complain about it in his report to his superiors and hope he survived to file it.
:::{)(}:::
“The DNs weren't decoys. We've confirmed that with the visual check,” Catherine reported during the next staff meeting. “The question is, where did they get the other one?”
“A better question is, why are we still sitting here?” Berney asked, addressing the admiral. “Sir, we're outgunned. We can't deny that. We need to retreat before it's too late.”
“They can outpace us in hyper. They could be there ahead of us. We'd be walking from one trap into potentially another one,” Jeremy warned.
“Potentially,” Berney stressed. “I for one don't buy it. They'll be defensive. That's Irons MO. I've read his bio Imperial Intelligence put together,” he said, nodding to Sedrick. “They have a lot to lose now that they know we're on the offense.”
“But we're not if we're the ones retreating,” Myron stated.
“We're not retreating,” the admiral said. That stopped the argument before it became too heated. “I ordered a tactical withdrawal. I want them to chase us. We're going to wait until Death Shrieker gets back to us with news of Protodon.”
“Hopefully, they don't trip up and show our hand before White departs,” Catherine murmured.
“I know. That's what bothers me. I'm not sure I got the timing right,” the admiral said, seemingly fretting. “I may have jumped the gun and sent them off too early.”
The staff didn't have an answer to that. After a moment he shook himself and then tugged on his cufflink. “No matter. What's done is done I suppose; we can only move on from here.” He looked straight at the tactical officer. “CIC positively identified one DN as Bismark. They’re sure of that,” he said.
Myron nodded. “As certain as they can be given the range and unfamiliar ship, sir,” the tactical officer replied with a nod. His fingers flicked as he pulled up an image of the ship. It rotated as the computer showed it from the various angles that the fleet had seen it from. Getting the 3D image set up and compiled properly had taken a few hours of work. “The lines and design say Tauren. They lengthened her and obviously stripped out any hardware and added all new modern gear.”
“So she's potentially more lethal than our own ships of the same class,” Berney said in disgust.
“That's my assessment as well,” Myron admitted. “Now this other ship,” he said, pulling up a second model next to the first. “It is similar to the first but not completely the same. You can see a lot of differences. The aesthetics are way off. And the odds of the federation finding a second Tauren battleship on their side of the sector …,” he shook his head.
“What are you suggesting?” Catherine asked, already jumping to a conclusion herself. One she didn't like and shied away from.
“New construction,” Admiral De Gaulte said softly, staring at the image.
“Sir …,” Berney said in exasperation. “It's impossible! The odds …”
“He's right. They couldn't have salvaged that ship!” Myron insisted, standing and leaning over the edge of the table. “Our people have been all over this space for centuries! Sure, we ignored Firefly and Bismark, but this is a bit different!”
Berney blinked then flushed a bit. “Okay …”
“So, in one to two years time, they built the factories to build that damn ship. Unless they'd been working on it longer, which we don't know,” the admiral mused. “It's possible Irons laid it down years ago, and they just got around to finishing it when he got back into contact I suppose. That's a question only Imperial Intelligence can get us an answer to,” he said, looking at Sedrick.
“There is no mention of another DN under construction, sir. I checked,” Sedrick said, spreading his hands.
““So, it's new, unless you believe in black magic,” the admiral growled.
“Yes, sir, to both,” Catherine said. The admiral snorted darkly.
“Which begs the question, what else do they have coming? What else is in their shipyards? In their pipeline? Two entire squadrons of BCs, refitting the ships we've seen like Bismark, the CEVs, the CLV, this damn ship,” the admiral waved a hand through the hologram. “What else is there?” he demanded.
Catherine fought a shiver of dread when there was no answer forthcoming from anyone.
:::{)(}:::
Three days after the enemy departed, Fortress 1's shell of recon platforms detected an unscheduled arrival outside any known jump zone. Protodon was the fourth star system to receive a shell of recon platforms. The unmanned observation posts had solar panels and clusters of instruments to scan the heavens around them in all directions. The star system didn't have full coverage yet, but the main threat area was covered.
Commander Nambi ordered her people to alert status as the alert raced out across the solar system. Sensors and telescopes focused on the jump zone to localize the emergent and tease out any knowledge about them that they could.
:::{)(}:::
“Captain, we're secure from jump,” the XO said, turning to Captain Bohr. The heavyset captain nodded grimly. He didn't like the mission, but he understood the importance.
His light cruiser Death Shrieker had been sent to scout the solar system. Unfortunately, they couldn't come in on any other vector than the one they'd already come in on; his navigator wasn't confident enough to improvise.
It was something he'd have to deal with later obviously, he thought as he watched the star system with narrowed eyes. The admiral's plan was tricky. He liked it, except for the assertion that they'd be able to dance around the enemy. To get the enemy to chase them, come in, trash Protodon, allow a courier to run to alert Second Fleet and then jump out before it arrived and thus get a head start for home. Cute and bold, but risky. Expecting the enemy to move to your tune, to do as you want, that was a recipe for disaster.
Personally he thought the admiral was grasping at straws, trying to salvage some sort of victory out of a loss. They should cut their losses and fall back, but no, they were trying one last roll of the dice.
“No active sensors,” he growled.
“None needed, sir. We're picking up drive and neutrino emissions already, sir. Second Fleet is still here,” a CIC rating reported.
“Let me see it,” the captain ordered. He leaned forward expectantly as the plot stabilized and began to be painted with icons of ships and fusion reactors in the star system. Places where they overlapped were quickly tagged as a ship. An arrow plotted out the ship's vector.
“Heading change on some of the ships,” the rating reported in a neutral tone of voice.
The captain grimaced when he noted the closest ships changing course for him. No doubt they'd be sending active sensors his way to probe to see who had just intruded on their star system.
“We've been made,” Jackie, the navigator growled.
“Run silent or …,” the XO cocked his head at the captain.
The captain star
ed at the plot. More and more icons stabilized as CIC fingerprinted them. They'd downloaded everything they could get from the fleet before they'd left on the mission. His eyes narrowed to slits as two of the most powerful traces were picked up. CIC painted them as the dreadnaughts.
“Skip?” The XO asked.
“They didn't take the bait or we came too early. No, either way we've been made, and the admiral's plan is blown. Helm, bring us about. Engineering, we're going to need the hyperdrive recharged,” he growled.
“Damn,” the XO said, turning back to the plot. He shook his head. Some of the icons had to be battle cruisers.
“We're done here,” the captain said.
:::{)(}:::
“You were right,” the admiral said without a hint of grudge in his voice. “Count our blessings please,” he said to his staff once it was confirmed that the enemy ship had jumped.
“I know it's not always going to work that way, sir,” the commodore replied. Trajan shook his head as Dwight toyed with his coffee cup. “But in this case, I'm happy.”
“He was toying with us. Draw us out of position so he could pounce on it. Sneaky bastard,” Dwight said, shaking his head. “I'm glad we delayed now. I bet that threw his game off.”
Admiral White nodded. “Me too. Now the question is, do we wait him out or is he going to pull back?”
“Well, he can sit in hyper until he runs out of fuel for all I care, sir. I know he's the sword of Damocles, but in this case I'd rather he sit and wait while reinforcements get here and the engineers make good on our repairs.”
“I agree.”
“What bothers me is, he can shotgun these cruisers at us a few times and we'll delay chasing him down. The cruisers can catch up with him.”
“And every moment we delay here means he's getting further away. But he's doing it with battle damage, sir. He's not going to feel too confident about hitting high bands. Not with what the bombers did to him on top of the damage that was inflicted during the battle of B-97a. We can outrun him,” Kyle said, “but not by too much the longer we delay.”
“The next question is, do we want to do so?” Amadeus mused.
:::{)(}:::
“Sir, the report is in from Death Shrieker. The news … well, it's not good,” Catherine said as she handed him a chip.
The admiral put the chip into his tablet and then read the report. When he was finished, he grunted in irritation. “Either we got cute or he got cautious. Too cute,” he said, setting the tablet onto the table.
“We did, sir. I think you were right; we should have waited a bit longer,” Catherine stated.
“It's water under the bridge now. Now we have to deal with the consequences.”
“Sir, I don't see a problem. We can wait longer if necessary,” Berney suggested.
The admiral waved a dismissive hand. “It won't work, Berney. I wish it would, but it won't. No, by now they know that game. Worse, they've most likely dispatched a couple scouts to watch for us in B-95a3. They now have the lead so they will get there, get clear of the jump point and watch in stealth.”
“Or drop a mine field in our face,” Myron warned darkly. “Wouldn't that be fun?” he demanded. The chief of staff shot him a glower but the threat took a lot of sting out of his rebuke.
“Let's not get carried away with the caution. Though it is all well and good to consider that possibility, no matter how remote,” Catherine scolded mildly.
“They'd need a fast heavy cargo ship for such a mission. Something tells me they wouldn't do it idly.”
“True. They may want to soften us up though. So, we need to return carefully to B-95a3. Possibly far enough out to make anyone in the system miss us.”
“Come in on another vector, sir? Outside the jump zone? That's dangerous, sir,” Jeremy warned. “Protodon was pretty well picked over. B-95a3 doesn't have many resources either, but there are still small rocks in the outer star system that can play havoc in hyperspace, sir. Or on emergence,” he reminded him.
“We're here to risk our lives too I suppose. It can't be helped. Minimize the risks the best you can, Jeremy,” the admiral ordered. The navigator grimaced but nodded dutifully. “While he's plotting that, the rest of you pass the word we'll be returning to B-95a3. This is a temporary withdrawal. Make certain our captains understand that. Make sure everyone is working with due diligence to address their repairs the best they can. Once we're in B-97A I, want us back up to fighting trim. Hopefully, we'll have more than just the fleet train there waiting for us. But I want you to stress to them that I want everything done on the snap kick.”
“Aye, sir. We'll need to hit the ground running with the fleet train to get things sorted out in real space though, sir. Soon,” Catherine warned.
“Very well.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “I keep reminding myself not to underestimate my opponent. He's patient, but I can't attribute all this to him. He's vastly more experienced,” he said wryly.
“Sir?”
“He's from the old federation,” the admiral said, turning to his staff. “A flag officer. You didn't get there that fast. They had a very lengthy time-in-grade before the Xeno war. From what scant INTEL we've got on him, he's been asleep a long time so he missed the last of it. He might have been asleep from the time period just after the Xenos were here in this sector.”
“During the initial opening stages of the war, sir?” Catherine asked. “We still don't know where he and the other sleepers came from,” she said glancing at Sedrick. The spook nodded and grimaced.
“I know. My point is, he's probably spent over a decade in each grade. And the higher you go up, the slower the rise unless you are damn good. I'm still trying to get a feel for the ape, but what I get I don't like seeing,” the admiral mused. “And he's got a lot more toys in his toy box than I'd hoped to face with what we've got.”
Myron shot Catherine a worried look. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. The frank admission was rattling the staff. She knew it but didn't know how to counter it.
Perhaps it was just as well. They had to keep from underestimating their opponent. The admiral was right; there had been far too much of that going on. Far too much for far too long, it had to stop.
But, in return, they couldn't scare themselves into inaction or retreat. She wasn't certain how best to handle the admiral.
“Do we wait longer, sir? We could try again in a couple weeks.”
“He's seen through the gambit now. I suppose we could but it would serve no purpose other than to eat up our fuel and supplies. No, we retreat. We'll head back to B-95a3. I'll make my decision on where to go from there. I'm definitely not considering going into Nuevo Madrid. I don't want to be backed into a corner.”
“Bottled up. It would be nice if we could get in there, wait for him to pass, and then come in behind him, sir,” Myron suggested.
“Or do that in stealth in B-95a3,” Sedrick supplied.
“Both are good ideas. We need to turn the tables and work our own game,” the admiral said. He didn't have a lot of confidence in either plan though; the enemy had pickets watching the star system. All they needed to do was see his fleet arrive and track their heading. He wasn't even certain his ships could get into stealth, not with the damage they'd taken.
But he allowed his staff to consider the plan. They might come up with something usable, he reminded himself. What he feared but didn't see was what the Fed shipyards were turning out. Every day meant more parts, more ships they could churn out and use against them given enough time and personnel. They had to find a way to disrupt the flow. It was a fundamental strategy of war, to disrupt and destroy the enemy's ability to wage war in order to win. “Draw up various contingency plans. We'll have time to game them out in hyper on our way to B-95a3.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Catherine replied dutifully.
:::{)(}:::
“So much for that,” Admiral De Gaulte said in disgust once the two of them were alone in the admiral's office. “I'd hope
d for more.” He went over to the bar and poured himself a drink.
“Got your expectations up when you warned us not to, sir?” Catherine asked sympathetically.
“You could say that, Commander,” he replied.
“So, if I may be so bold, now that it is a moot point, what was the plan? The full plan? I know you left more out than what you downloaded for us to read, sir,” she said. He turned to eye her as he poured himself a drink. “Just asking as your operations officer you understand, sir,” she said hurriedly.
He grunted then nodded. “It was … I was being flexible. I suppose you could use that term. Probably too cute I imagine. I wanted to draw White off Protodon, go in, pull a smash and grab, trash a lot but avoid any entanglements. Avoid the fixed defenses, that sort of thing.” He waved a hand. The princess nodded dutifully. “Once we’d made a good show and they'd reported us there, I'd destroy the ansible like Post did.”
That provision made her stop and blink in puzzlement. “Why sir? I mean, we could capture it I suppose …”
Her admiral shook his head. “It wasn't worth the risk. The platform or station is probably booby trapped like most if not all of their military hardware. No, I wanted them to know,” he stressed, eying her.
Suddenly she realized it was a lesson and a test rolled into one. She hadn't been sure about his reasoning, but if he'd gotten this far …. “Wanted them …,” she parsed it out, thinking furiously, gaming it from the other side. Understanding dawned, making her eyes widen ever so briefly. She nodded in respect. “So they'd tell Antigua and Pyrax?”
“Got most of it in one,” the admiral said with an indulgent smile to his pupil, “but you missed one. The picket commander on the spot would have sent a mobile ship to B-95a3 to let White know. The other ships would undoubtedly avoid action.”
“Why let the ….” Her eyes widened. Had his plan been that far advanced? That far reaching? “You wanted to strike Antigua?”
