by Chris Hechtl
“The sooner the better,” the captain muttered.
“Amen to that,” the tech said, pointing to a squadron of battle cruisers on their way to the jump point.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Ozman swore viciously as CIC reported the details on the intruder. She noted the location and that the status was tentative and fading fast. Already ships were moving out on their own or calling in to ask what to do. She shook her head. It took a moment to make sure she had firm control of her voice and her temper before she began to issue orders.
Most likely the ship was a scout. Since they'd already lost sight of it, it was under stealth of some sort. The course projection didn't make sense unless they were taking a ballistic flight around the star system. She doubted they'd go in any deeper, but she couldn't discount the possibility.
Once she had firm control of her forces, she issued orders for some ships to spread out in a picket line along the ship's last projected course. She ordered fighters and small craft to do most of the hunting. Their sensors were shorter in range than a starship's, but there were more of them to cover the large volume of space.
And it was getting larger by the minute. She was depressingly certain it would all be for naught.
Within an hour of her orders going out, the duchess called in.
“No, ma'am, I don't know if the enemy is in possession of Dead Drop. Since that is a stealthed ship, I can probably confirm it got past Admiral De Gaulte too.”
“But how?”
“It's a stealth ship,” Agnes replied, gathering as much patience as she could muster. “It's built to sneak in and probe us.”
“But … but, can't you find it?”
“It's hiding, ma'am. This is a glorified game of hide and seek with fatal consequences for them if they lose. We can't see them. Space is vast. They've got a lot of places to hide in. My people are spreading out on their last projected course, but they can see them. The enemy I mean, they can see our ships and therefore avoid them.”
“So, you can do nothing?”
“At the moment, ma'am, all we can do is hope and pray we get lucky. We'll keep trying, and we'll arrange as much coverage as we can. If we get a sniff, I'll order more forces into the area or to cover the box differently. But, I don't have my hopes up.”
“Keep trying, Captain,” the duchess growled as she signed off.
“What do you think I'm trying to do?” she sighed in exasperation.
:::{)(}:::
Once the prowler was certain none of their pursuers were anywhere near enough to endanger them, the little ship dropped her cloak and began charging her hyperdrive. An hour later they made the transition into hyperspace and began climbing the bands as they made their way to Dead Drop.
“We're clear, ma'am. All systems stable,” the ship's A.I. reported.
“Good.”
“Course for Dead Drop. I've calculated an emergent point low this time. Low and at least an AU out from the jump point,” the navigator stated.
“Good use of initiative. I was going to tell you to do that. Thanks for anticipating me, Darion.”
“Yes, ma'am. It's all part of the service,” he replied with a smile.
“Careful, I might expect it all the time,” she warned, half joking. When his smile congealed hers grew until Bonny chuckled, breaking the spell. Darion snorted and then shook his head as he turned back to his station instruments.
:::{)(}:::
“What was that about?” Commodore Couglin demanded. “All that trouble over a ghost?” He didn't like the order to chase a sensor ghost. She was also curious as to why Captain Ozman had ordered many of the ships in the inner system to go dark and for active emissions to be cut back. She hadn't looked forward to a training exercise with Audacious's wing, but she was painfully certain after the reports from the front that his people needed the time.
Now that opportunity was lost.
“Not a ghost, a snoop,” Captain Ozman replied patiently, and then had to wait for the inevitable reply some ten seconds later.
“A snoop?” the commodore asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
“A snoop and poop, ma'am.”
“Okay, seriously …?” Commodore Couglin demanded, clearly not amused by the captain's antics over the security breach.
“Sorry, ma'am. It was a Federation scout ship. Most likely a prowler,” the captain replied, wondering internally why she had to explain it to the commodore. Surely, she would have been able to figure it out on her own, right?
“Okay, snoop part I get now. But?”
“Oh, the poop part? I bet there are a lot of people, me included, ready to shit themselves over what that intruder means,” Captain Ozman replied dryly. “The duchess is included in that number.”
Commodore Couglin's eyes narrowed. “That bad?”
Agnes kept rigid control of her facial expression, eyes, and her tone as she answered. It wouldn't do to roll her eyes in despair in front of the obviously clueless woman. She suddenly didn't have a lot of hope for Dead Drop if she somehow found herself in command there. “That they made it this far? Either they managed to get around the defenses in Dead Drop, not impossible admittedly, or they took Dead Drop and we're next on the menu.”
The commodore's eyes went wide in surprise and then narrowed as she caught on. She grimaced. Captain Ozman nodded, coldly amused by the other's surprise and gratified that the woman had finally caught on. “I think you just joined us. I'd welcome you to the club but I don't think anyone wants to be in it,” the captain said sourly as she looked away.
“Yeah. I agree,” the commodore said sourly. “So, what does this mean?”
“We're going to do our level best to assess the damage to security. I don't know if Dead Drop is in enemy hands or not, and since you are a grade above me, I can't countermand your orders, obviously. So, it is up to you if you want to slow down and stall for a couple days at the picket point.”
“Ah, I think a lengthy engineering check there, not to mention aiding your forces in making certain the intruder is gone might be advisable,” the commodore said slowly.
“Ah. Thank you, ma’am, for your support,” the captain replied as she signed off.
:::{)(}:::
A day later the arrival of a freighter told them that Dead Drop was still in Admiral De Gaulte's hands. “So, how did that ship get past him?” Duchess Tucket demanded. She was furious about the intrusion and Agnes' complete lack in killing the damn thing. It had taken some time to get her ire under control so she could speak civilly with the captain.
Agnes was well aware that the duchess wasn't happy with her performance. That was why she'd come prepared. She had done her homework on who likely the intruder had been. She also knew better than to equivocate or make excuses. Her best defense was to play it straight and work on a way of stopping the next intruder.
She was certain there would be.
“The same way it got past us, ma'am. It is a Federation prowler. Damn good at its job as I explained before. We can see it jump in and out, but that's about it. We can't see it on the move unless it makes a mistake. The best we can do is guess its intention and try to intercept or at least force it to burn fuel to avoid us,” Agnes explained.
“I see.” She could tell from Agnes's tone that the other woman's patience had been tested. She decided to try to let it go.
“The good news, such as it is, we know. It went back to Dead Drop, not on to the Empire,” Agnes said. “So, it's out of our hair for the moment.”
“You call that good news?” the duchess demanded.
“It is good for the Empire. I didn't necessarily mean for us, ma'am. They now know what we've got now. No, that isn't good for us,” the captain replied.
“No. No, it isn't,” the duchess replied firmly. “Do something about that.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
:::{)(}:::
Captain Lovejoy watched his crew settle in to Garth and transmit their IFF. He was gratified to see a force of battle cruisers on
their way to the jump point.
He had split his forces; half of the fleet train had been forced to go in to the empire proper to get supplies that couldn't be drawn from the stores and orbital warehouses in Garth. Admiral De Gaulte had ordered his remaining forces to split up. It wasn't like they needed to travel in a convoy anyway. Each of the ships made their best speed to and from Garth.
“What's going on?” a voice asked.
“What?” he asked, turning away from his woolgathering to look at his XO.
The XO pointed to the plot. “The system is on high alert, sir.”
“Okay, it's a training exercise.”
“No, sir. This is real. I know Captain Ozman. She wouldn't burn fuel and put time on the equipment clocks. And I know Duchess Tucket by reputation. She's a penny pincher normally.”
“So, what is going on,” the captain replied, playing along as he crossed his arms.
“Sir, we're getting a transmission. They want our log again.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, sir. It seems they had an intruder.”
“Frack. Send it,” the captain replied, waving his hand as he thought hard. He didn't like that report. He vowed to get to the bottom of the situation. Soon.
:::{)(}:::
The crew of Trembling Timmy was not happy, just like their skipper as they toddled along in hyperspace. They had been forced to slow their speed due to an engineering problem. They'd picked up a bad harmonic and couldn't quite work it out. Engineering was trying, but the only way to maintain the safety of the ship was to translate down to a safer octave and hyperband. That had nearly doubled their expected transit time, which well and truly sucked.
The captain knew it sucked in another way. Not only would they have trouble getting away from anything they ran into, but if the harmonic wasn't fixed, they might be trapped, unable to run at all. And, their extra time in hyper had cost them fuel and supplies. Supplies they needed to remain on station or to go even deeper. They had no stops along the way to refuel.
The courier crew had the same problem. They had downgraded their speed to match Trembling Timmy's but hadn't been at all happy about it. The captain had denied the courier's request to move on without them.
It wouldn't be much longer though before they jumped out into the B-87R star system. To what was anyone's guess though. They were all pretty certain they'd lost the race however.
:::{)(}:::
Dead Drop
With no sign of Widow's Playmate, concern over what had happened in the star system after the courier's departure deepened. Either the ship had been taken out or she was still there. Why was anyone's guess.
Based on the destroyer's sensor recordings passed on to the courier, it was apparent that the three-ship arrival had been another scouting mission. Most likely the prowler and a pair of cruisers had made them send the courier back early. Admiral De Gaulte ordered the courier replenished and then sent back. They would have to jump well short again for safety and then communicate with Widow's Playmate once they were certain they were safe to do so.
They were gratified to see divisions of new arrivals coming in every week. They were all small ships, destroyers and cruisers, but that was fine. The fleet train was making regular runs as well, and they had picked up some supplies as well as additional parasite craft.
Both carriers were stocking up. In fact, the fleet carrier Nimitz was up to half strength with two hundred fighters, almost more than what she'd had when the fleet had first launched. Of course, the 143 fighters on board were of mixed breed, and everyone knew that it was still not enough. Not when they all knew what was coming at them was probably an order of magnitude greater. Admiral De Gaulte shook his head as he looked at the stark numbers and reports of readiness. He might as well shoot them himself for all the good they'd do.
The emphasis on fighters over bombers in small craft had been noted grimly by his staff. Everyone liked the idea of being in a fighter; it was sexy and cool. Mixing it up in a furball was every pilot's dream. No one wanted to be in a bomber or shuttle. Ironically, it was the bombers that took down the big prey, the ships. That was what they needed; someone who could go on the offense. As it stood, the fighters he had were at best defensive. He didn't trust the Raptors in an offensive operation. He knew they would get slaughtered.
They had to find a better way to fight them defensively he mused. The CAG had initially wanted to train for offensive OPS, but after reviewing their previous missions, the commander had changed his tune. He'd been sourly amused when he'd heard it.
Everything he was doing, all the planning, was defensive in nature. It was against everything he'd thought he'd do. It was however, necessary. A necessary evil, at least until reinforcements showed up in overwhelming strength. So far there had been no sign of that.
He wondered who would win the race. If the empire did send enough firepower, would he be allowed to lead them? Or, would he be recalled in disgrace? And how would that workout for the empire? He wasn't certain. Nor did he want to find out.
One thing he could do was to set up a trap for the noisome prowler. He ordered ships to deploy satellites around the jump point to B-97c and to maintain patrols of the area. They were his beaters. He had set up some satellites and gunships around the Garth jump point in a wide net but he was well aware that it was just that, a wide, thin net. It would take time for any of the ship's he'd put there to get to the ship when it got in. Perhaps too long he thought, going over the notes on how quickly the ship had transitioned out of hyperdrive to bring its cloak up. No, they'd have a general bearing, but he doubted they'd find them.
But, maybe they would spook the damn ship into making a mistake. They would also give his forces a clearer bearing on where she went and how fast. At the moment, that was the best he could hope for.
Since he didn't know if his preparations would help stop the ship and its bleed of information to the enemy, he had to keep his fall back going, which meant his false fleet in orbit of the planet. Keeping the decoys cycling was hard on their equipment, but he had no choice. They were on standby. Captain Abernly had also rigged up some force emitters to act as grav shadows for the decoys. They didn't have neutrino emissions, but he'd work with what he had.
Once he was satisfied the local preparations were as far along as they could be, he turned his attention to the bigger picture. He hated not knowing what had happened in B-97b and A. He seriously considered sending more ships as raiders. Some of the half-rebuilt Gather Fleet ships might work nicely there. He could afford to lose a couple tin cans if it meant stalling the enemy.
Instead he wrote up an order to send a freighter to support the raiders. They would undoubtedly appreciate the fresh food, water, fuel, and other supplies stuffed into the ship. But he wrote an order to Berney to check the status of the ships that had recently joined them. If a pair or more of them would be suitable to raid, then perhaps he'd send them out as well.
Chapter 35
Antigua
Toni Chambers at Galactic Spotlight News broke the story that Admiral Irons hadn't been seen for a full month. “Sources say he is either out of the star system or involved with something very secret. Rumors are swirling about a visit to a facility or even his participation in a secret facility, perhaps the same place he found Admirals White, Subert, and the other sleepers.”
“For now we can only speculate. This is Toni Chambers reporting for GSN,” she said with a smile. Her eyes glittered with amusement and challenge as if to say take that April.
:::{)(}:::
April caught the report within minutes of it hitting the air. She groaned. She had an intern and a bot watching the competition. She shook her head as one by one the other media outlets latched onto the story. They didn't have any evidence of their own, but they ran with it and attributed it as alleged and unnamed sources for the time being.
Irma came in to her office at a trot with some of her production staff hard on her heels. She grimaced. “Yes, I saw the story. Run it
,” she said.
Irma's eyes went wide. “I knew something was up; you haven't mentioned him in a while. But I thought you two were drifting. Is this for real?”
“Yes. No, I don't know where he is. He just told me he's going. I promised to sit on it. I hate getting scooped though, especially about this. But, I owed him,” she said with a grimace. “Now he owes me.”
“Okay. So, the same sources?”
“Unnamed yes,” April said as she noted the day anchor was taking over the news and preempting their current time slot. “Run it. You'll have to get more out of Liobat though.”
“Understood.”
“Ma'am, you have a call coming in,” her secretary said from the open door just as April's implants pinged. She winced. “I hate that when they do that. Yes?” she asked, opening a channel. “This is April O'Neill. You are live with my production staff.”
“Go private,” a familiar female voice said.
“I can't do that. We have a bit of a story crisis on my desk, Captain Sprite. Are you calling to confirm the story?”
“Off the record you know better than to ask that,” Captain Sprite stated.
“Ma'am, a program or person is trying to access our system,” a tech said urgently.
“And you know better than to try to hack the media, Captain. We all have a job to do. I do too. I can't sit on this for much longer. He knew that.”
There was a click as an answering reply as the A.I. disconnected. She turned to her staff. “There is your confirmation. Run it,” she said, sitting down heavily.
Irma bit her lip and then shooed the group out. “You heard the woman! Run it!” she said as she ushered them out of April's office. She turned back to look at the red-haired woman but April was looking away.
:::{)(}:::
Liobat weathered the storm of inquiries to the best of her ability. The following morning at the press briefing she just shook her head when they started in. “Does it involve Second Fleet? Is he visiting the front?”
