by Chris Hechtl
“So, now it is a race? They have quite the head start,” Admiral Champion stated.
“Yes, yes they do. But the messenger is faster and will be cutting corners to get them the warning. It's all we can do.”
“Sir, what are her orders? Under what circumstances will she retreat? When she hits a force her own size or larger?” General Forth asked carefully.
“Falling back would mean surprise is lost. It's a pity she can't take and hold Garth and cut off the enemy in Dead Drop. We could then break them since they wouldn't have logistics support. If she set up her ansible in Garth, we could know, and she could coordinate with Amadeus,” Admiral Champion suggested. She didn't like that Home Fleet kept getting torn apart to feed Second Fleet. She'd wanted to go with the latest deployment of super dreadnoughts, cruisers, carriers, and such but hadn't been allowed. That had rankled her a little bit. She hadn't had any intention of stepping on Amadeus's toes, but apparently, Admiral Irons didn't want any chain of command issues.
“Coordinating two fleets over that distance is fraught with risk, even with the ansible,” Amadeus stated. “Once I commit I will be out of contact while in transit. If the enemy goes after her …”
“Still, if the enemy does, they'd be in Garth. If she got us word of warning, you could then bounce in to Dead Drop to raid. Hit them hard and keep dancing,” Admiral Champion stated.
“That is possible in theory. But once they get into Garth, they'll take out the ansible. And I wouldn't know what I was jumping into in Dead Drop,” Amadeus stated.
“A prowler …”
“Would alert the enemy we're coming. But I can have my staff game it out,” Amadeus stated.
“Agreed.”
“I never thought fighting a battle in multiple star systems would be this complex. I've always been focused on defending Bek. This is … a new experience,” Admiral Pashenkov stated wryly from his seat next to Admiral Irons.
“We're all learning,” Yorgi said, nodding in agreement as he looked at the other officer. He was still getting used to the wolf here, in the capital with him. Apparently, Georgi had been chastened by his recent experience in Bek. Either that or he was wisely attempting to fit in, learn, and adapt without jogging anyone's elbow.
“Not quite all of us. Some of us knew ahead of time—Admirals White, Subert, and Irons for instance,” General Forth stated. “I see now why you didn't want to commit so soon, Admiral Irons.”
“Water over the damn now,” Admiral Irons stated before they could get drawn into a distracting argument. What's done is done. We're committed. We need to deal with it.”
“Agreed,” Admiral Subert said when no one else spoke up immediately.
“How is this going to work with Tau and Pi? Not to mention the forces we've got committed to Sigma?”
“It is a serious problem. We can't cover all bases. We can send them some support. The Ptah mission was already planned and is in the final stages. We'll most likely strip her security force to the bone though. We'll have to reassess her mission plan. That's for OPS to worry about,” Admiral Irons said. “Sigma is already committed. And we're committed to blockading Horath. This just made it a hell of a lot more challenging.”
“Yes, sir,” Admiral Subert stated.
“Well, a lot of the Tau, Pi, and Sigma mission units are light units that are unsuited for the wall and Second Fleet. If we send them destroyers for instance …,” Admiral Pashenkov suggested, looking questioningly to Admiral Irons. He knew that Nelson and other classes of tin cans were fleet escorts, but he wasn't certain they were necessary. They weren't survivable platforms if the big boys decided to come out swinging, and a carrier force could do the same job as a destroyer squadron anyway.
“Destroyers don't have the legs to get to any of the neighboring sectors easily. Not in a timely manner. But we can explore that later. We've already dispatched forces into the eastern part of the sector to try to blockade them along the New Horizon route,” Phil stated.
“We need to overhaul our production priorities if light units aren't needed,” Admiral Creator of Things buzzed from his seat. His antenna waved.
“That's why we're not having Bek produce anything smaller than a cruiser,” Admiral Irons explained, looking at the T'clock engineer. “A cruiser is the smallest unit that can safely navigate the rapids anyway.” The bug gave a human-style nod.
“We really need more than cruisers from Bek though,” Yorgi murmured, distressed that the delay in Childress' coup had delayed his home star system's upgrades and incorporation into the outer Federation for more than a year. That precious time was now squandered.
“They're working on it,” Admiral Creator of Things stated. “Zek and Horatio are quite good at their jobs. They'll get it done.”
“The problem is, the ships best suited for the blockade and raiding forces are carrier forces. The very forces we need on the front,” Admiral Champion mused as she looked up to the ceiling.
“But not escort carriers, as you pointed out earlier,” Admiral Pashenkov stated. Admiral Champion nodded. “They are fine to protect the rear but not sit in the wall. They don't have it in them. Relegating them to escort duty is a waste, though moving the pilots and planes off the carrier and into the fleet carriers cuts down on packing time. We can slot them right in,” Admiral Pashenkov stated.
“I'm debating on sucking mine dry and then sending them back to pick up new wings actually,” Admiral White admitted. “They don't have the internal storage for fleet battles as you mentioned. Kittyhawk is due in at any time. Managing that is going to be a bit delicate. But, if I do strip her dry, I can send her back at flank speed to pick up more fighters and other craft in Protodon. Their pilots can work them up on the route back to us.”
“We need to look into other uses for them then,” Admiral Creator of Things said, missing part of what the Neochimp said. “Oh, sorry.”
“No problem. Time delay in the ansible,” Amadeus said when there was a brief moment of silence.
“That's not the major issue. It is the lack of pilots that is. We only have so many to go around,” Admiral Irons reminded them all. “Throwing green pilots into the furball is tantamount to a death sentence. I don't like doing that.”
“I don't either. We did it during the Xeno war, but that was out of desperation. We lost a lot of good people that way,” Admiral Subert stated. “Such a waste.”
“I suggest we put a word in to Bek. They can ship pilots to the station with the transport ships there, and then they can catch rides through the rapids,” he stated.
“Agreed. Though none of the Bekian pilots have implants nor are they trained on the current generation of fighters,” Yorgi stated. He held up a restraining hand as the Neowolf's ears went back and he opened his mouth to protest. “But, we can deal with any deficiencies they have in transit. And they've no doubt been working on them in Bek at the moment. They'll have plenty of time to get up to speed by the time they get to Pyrax.”
“We'll have to split them. Send half or so to each front. The Eastern Front is carrier oriented,” Phil interjected.
“Okay, pilots and planes will be coming. But what about ordinance and supports? I get that a replicator can make replacement parts, but you've got to have the material on hand and the time to do it,” Admiral Champion pointed out.
“Logistics is going to get interesting,” Phil stated. “We're going to need cruisers to run to Pi, Sigma, and Tau too. Especially Tau due to that long jump. And we have to use the larger ships to go to Tau since the smaller ones don't have the speed or the legs.”
"How certain are you that you can hold?” Admiral Irons asked firmly. “No bravado bullshit, Amadeus. The truth.”
“I … don't know. It depends on what they throw at us. If they come at us with everything, I'll be forced off. We fired off half of our antimatter ordinance already. If they push us out, we'll fall back, but as I said, I'll bleed them with fighter and bomber strikes.”
“Understood. We need an
ETA on Kittyhawk and the other ships in the pipeline,” Admiral Irons stated firmly.
“They are due in at any time if they kept to their stated schedules,” Sprite interjected. Admiral Pashenkov nodded and flicked his ears in agreement.
“All right then. Now …”
Chapter 3
Dd01ns
Vice Admiral Amadeus White was intensely grateful to see the reports of ship movements across the Federation. Ships were indeed marching to the sound of the guns once more. That was the good news. He made certain his staff would disseminate the information to the fleet to help with morale.
He was aware that those ships would take months to get to him. The ones that really mattered were the carriers and capital ships. The screen in Protodon wasn't going to be enough, but every little bit helped. Or at least the thought of them coming would help his fleet's fragile morale.
They'd had weeks to plan for their arrival in the empty star system, weeks for the ships to get a handle on internal repairs and lists of what they needed to resupply and make what field repairs they could. As he looked out the virtual window, he saw the tiny specks of fireflies, teams of personnel out working on the ships to do what they could.
Well, he had given them a week. One week to make what repairs they could right before he sent any ship that wasn't above 85 percent home packing. And he intended to hold to that now that he knew he had ships coming to the rescue.
That thought galled him he thought, working his jaw. Twice now he'd been forced to retreat by pirate rabble. Twice he'd had his tail kicked. Well, he damn well wasn't going to let them have a third shot; that was definite. John had been right; he had gone off half-cocked and opened up a can of worms. But, what was done was done; they'd deal with it.
One of the first things the crews had done once they'd gotten into real space was to transfer all fighters to the carriers. That had stripped his screen and battle cruisers of fighters, but it had brought the carriers up to strength … at least in fighters. They were desperately short of bombers though. The fleet train had unpacked the fighters and bombers they'd had in reserve, but they'd been a pitiful few. The maintenance people had offered to build a couple birds out of the stockpile of parts, but he'd nixed the idea. They'd need the parts to keep the birds they had in flight.
He glanced again at the tablet in his hand. Yes, the ships were still coming, Amadeus, he thought in private amusement at himself. What he really wanted to see was more antimatter ordinance though. He was well aware Georgi and John had sent him the entire antimatter ordinance in the capital, but it was pitifully small. They'd need a lot more if they were going to hope to crack what was coming at them or what was behind them.
And that was something he keenly knew his people were thinking about. Twice they'd run into enemy reinforcements that had outgunned them. What else were they deploying behind them? Sure, they could kick the pirates or at least fight them to a draw now, but tomorrow? He fought to keep his head still and from shaking in annoyance. He could see the odd reflection now and again of his staff glancing at his back. He didn't need to appear worried, or at least, more worried than he should be.
The good news was that he hadn't lost a single ship in the Dead Drop debacle of a battle. He had, however, lost plenty of fighters and bombers. But they had done some extensive damage to the enemy forces and infrastructure in the system.
Where the hell had they gotten all those emergency fighters from? Had they built them in the time it had taken him to get there or had they had them on hand? Had they been shipped in from Garth? He frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged mentally. There was no way of knowing from where they were at the moment. Besides, it didn't matter; those fighters had been little more than targets for his fighters.
No, the real fighter threat was the damn E fighters from that carrier. His people had winnowed them, but not enough, not nearly enough.
He forced himself to look at the star system plot on his HUD. He'd spent two precious days having the ansible transport move to the B-97c jump point and build the platform there. It had taken the crew nearly a week to get the fiddly thing together and the core installed. But it was done.
He had made certain to place it there so they could take it down if, no, when, the enemy showed up to bounce him out of the star system.
His staff had followed his initial plan and had put ships on deploying mines in a broad cone around the jump point. They were pitifully few even with the decoys seeded with them, but they would be something of a deterrent. After their experience in B-95a3, he was pretty sure De Gaulte would be wary of the things and would therefore jump well short of the established jump point and try to maneuver around them rather than bull his way through them.
Which meant he'd spend time, time for a certain Neochimp to have to react and get his people moving.
It wasn't enough. He knew that. He needed to stop the enemy cold again, stop and force them back. Hell, preferably blow them into tiny pieces, he thought with a grimace that barely concealed his teeth from his reflection in the wall screen.
TF2.4 wasn't much. A single mixed CruRon, two CEVs fresh out of the Pyrax yard which were to remain behind in B-95a3, two tin can screens, and a couple orphans as well as some support ships. Barely worth it, but it was something. The two cruisers and CEV coming from B-95a3 were also something, as were the ships like Kittyhawk and her escort in the pipeline somewhere between here and B-95a3.
Would De Gaulte commit to an attack? He privately doubted the other man would commit his flagship since it was still damaged. But then again, the man's pride and desire for revenge or some ass-covering factors might get in the way of his tactical sense.
“Status on the fleet? What about the prowler?” he asked, not looking over his shoulder.
“Average is 90 percent, sir,” Commander Kyle Offenger, the staff OPS officer, replied instantly. “The prowler is at 90 percent. She's finished resupplying and is ready for deployment.”
“Of course,” he stated. One thing he kicked himself for was that he hadn't left a prowler in Dead Drop nor had he sent a ship to Garth to try to warn TF3.2. That was going to haunt him if De Gaulte went in that direction instead of after him.
But, he was working on correcting his previous error. The prowler had needed a bit of resupply and maintenance when they'd first exited hyperspace, but she was now ready to go. The only problem was, he only had one of the blasted things. He couldn't send one to check on Dead Drop and report back and another on to Garth.
And, with the enemy in force in Dead Drop, the prowler would have fun getting through their defenses to jump to Garth let alone back. Each jump would increase the odds against them. It wasn't an easy thought for him to contend with. They could very easily make it all the way to Garth and get caught on their way back. All of their precious data would be lost as well as the crew and he'd be left in the dark wondering what went wrong.
He pulled the tablet out and checked. No, there were no additional prowlers in the pipeline. He wrote a quick memo to find out if there were any available and to request them. He logged the email and then turned to his staff.
“We have confirmation on reinforcements from First Fleet, sir. The first division has jumped. Excuse me, Second,” First Lieutenant Aleck Rowland, the staff navigational officer, reported with a brief smile.
A few in the group smiled in amusement as well. It was a shared joke they all enjoyed. It was no wonder why. They were in the flagship of First Division and the acting Flagship of the Federation, Bismark. Her sister ship Quirinus was riding nearby. Both ships were on loan, but everyone knew that it was polite fiction. Admiral White had no intention of returning either ship.
“Okay, I've got a flag conference in just under an hour so let's make this SITREP short and sweet. Hit the basics,” he said as he went over and took his seat at the head of the table.
The rest of his staff settled down and took their seats as well.
“Repairs as you know, sir, are underway. The same for replenishm
ent. Commodore Vargess and the CAGs are working up the reconsolidated fighter and bomber wings now. Normal operations have commenced as of this morning. So far so good though they've hit the occasional snag.”
“Oh?”
“I know I'm stealing a bit of thunder, but there has been the occasional issue with flight control—work parties and shuttles in the wrong flight path. We've had two near collisions. Steps are being taken to get safety under control.”
The admiral nodded grimly. The last thing they needed was to lose a bird or two of them out of stupidity or worse, have a deck strike cripple a carrier.
“We've had two fighters recalled for repairs after launch. They had to be recovered carefully since one of them had a drive failure which lead to one of the two near collisions,” Kyle reported.
“The maintenance teams didn't catch it?” the admiral demanded, starting to sound severe.
Kyle shrugged. “Something shorted in the wiring after launch. The diagnostics were green when they launched, or they wouldn't have gone out, sir …”
“Look into it. I want to know why someone didn't do a visual inspection,” the admiral growled.
“An investigation is underway now, sir,” Leopold stated. He didn't mention that the faulty wiring might have been in an area where the crew couldn't easily get to and see. But he was well aware that some excuses weren't acceptable. They'd had plenty of time to do tear downs and inspections on the retreat.
“Antimatter ordinance has been stowed per your orders. Once they get settled in, the bombers will work on drills again. They almost have to rebuild their squadrons from scratch due to losses,” Kyle stated.
“I'm well aware of that. Continue,” Amadeus stated.
“That is about it for OPS since all ships are resupplying, under repair, or on picket duty at the moment,” Kyle reported, turning to the holographic image of the ship's Tauren A.I. Ensign Leopold standing in miniature on the table in front of them. The ship's A.I. was acting as the staff logistics officer among other roles.
