The Gathering Storm (The New Federation Book 4)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Ma'am, Second Fleet is now pinging the three ships with fire control. They will be in extreme weapons range in less than five minutes.”

  “Then we better do something to dissuade them. Comm, open a channel,” the admiral replied as she settled herself and squared her shoulders.

  “Comm open, ma'am.”

  She nodded ever so slightly and then turned to address the camera as its green light came on. “This is Vice Admiral Champion, Commander of Fourth Fleet to Second Fleet and the fortresses. I'm ordering you to stand-down. If you fire on those ships, we will fire on you.”

  “Second transmission from our negative Y axis, 7.5 million kilometers out!” a comm rating said.

  Odette scowled at being interrupted, but the tech piped the signal through to her. Her mouth closed with a surprised clop.

  “This is Commodore Yukio Yashido of Third Fleet TF 3.5.1. We stand with the Federation, with Admiral Irons and with Vice Admiral Champion. Stand down Second Fleet. It's over, Admiral Toronto.”

  “Well! I'll be damned,” she murmured.

  "It looks like Admiral Sharp Reflexes had the same idea you did, ma'am," Toby said with a grin.

  :::{)(}:::

  “Well! This is getting a bit more exciting than I had hoped,” Captain Astro said with a shake of his head. “Where are they all coming from?”

  “Well, there isn't any woodwork around, but space is deep and dark,” his XO said.

  “Sir, we're receiving a whisker laser from Fourth Fleet. A log and authentication codes are being transmitted now,” the communications tech reported.

  “Route it to the flag bridge,” a familiar voice ordered over the feed.

  “Sir? What do we do?” Captain Astro XXXXIV asked as he turned to the video feed from the flag bridge. “It looks like we're going to have a shooting match with us in the middle.”

  “I'll handle it. Have your ship prepared for defense though,” the admiral rumbled.

  “Aye aye, sir,” the Neodog replied in a dubious tone of voice. He turned and checked with his TO.

  :::{)(}:::

  “This is Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons, President of the Federation to Bek Naval Command …,” one of the battle cruisers began to transmit.

  Admiral Toronto snarled and used the superior power of his command fortress to override the BC transmission before it got out too far. After that he had a decision to make, one he wasn't sure he wanted to make.

  He couldn't help but wrestle with his conscience. The big gorilla was not at all happy about being put in the position of sparking a civil war both within Bek and with the outer Federation. He realized he didn't have the stomach for firing on the ships. He didn't want the war and couldn't see himself looking into the eyes of his family when they asked what he did to stop it.

  “Sir, what are we going to do? It's Ilmarinen all over again!”

  “Incoming transmission from Fortress Four. Commodore Bjornson is on the line, sir, asking for instructions,” his chief of staff said.

  Admiral Toronto's eyes cut to his former chief of staff on the screen. “I know. I'm thinking,” he said simply, trying to put the commodore off.

  “Sir, our orders are clear,” the commodore said woodenly.

  “The hell they are!” the big ape snarled, nostrils flaring. “Our orders are to arrange an accident. I'm not going to do it. Those sailors deserve better than that.”

  His staff around him recoiled in shock at his outburst.

  "You'll be arrested for treason," the commodore pointed out. “Childress will have your head.”

  "He has no stomach for it,” the chief of staff said, staring at his boss.

  “Is it treason to disobey the President of the Federation and Chief of Naval Operations over Admiral Childress?" Admiral Toronto demanded.

  "Treason to Bek! Admiral Childress has the republic's best interests at heart!" Commodore Bjornson insisted.

  “Right and the people of Bek do not want us to fire. So again, treason to who?” the Neogorilla admiral demanded. He grimaced and shook his head. "If I'd shot anyone for treason, it would have been a long time ago," Admiral Toronto said, rubbing his brow.

  "Sir?" his chief of staff asked. “We need to do something,” he reminded him.

  “What do you mean, shot anyone?” Commodore Bjornson demanded.

  "Never mind," the admiral rumbled, aware of the looks he was getting. "We can always board them." His staff stared at him. He snorted. "We can board them, arrest them, and then keep the ships. It might come to that."

  "But you don't think it will," the commodore said dubiously.

  "Personally?" the admiral studied the captain. "No. It's already being broadcast throughout the fortresses. Our jamming came too late; it's already out there to the inner star system. I think Childress is done. If not right this second, then he's about to be. It should have happened earlier."

  "But you still have your orders," his chief of staff reminded him firmly.

  "Indeed, I do. Open the transmission," the Neogorilla growled, turning to his flag communications officer. "We all have our part to play, and this is mine I suppose."

  :::{)(}:::

  Lieutenant V'r'n'll listened to the broadcast from the Federation ships. He wasn't certain what to do. Commodore Flitter Left, the commander of Fortress 2 was sticking to basic protocol. The Veraxin listened to the chatter on the command channel. He could see Commodore Bjornson fuming over Admiral Toronto's indecision.

  He turned to see some of the reactions around him in his section. They ranged from jubilant to consternation to wariness. He sunk onto his saddle to listen and do his job. It was all he really could do. What came next gave him a front row seat to history.

  :::{)(}:::

  "Turn that damn recording off! We don't have to listen to it. Besides, it is supposed to go to high command on a secure frequency, not broadcast in the clear like that!" The Neogorilla snarled over the communications channel.

  "My, a might testy, isn't he?" Captain Astro XXXXIV asked clearly amused despite the tense situation they were in. Just seeing the weight of metal bearing down on them was not conductive to one's bladder control, let alone bowel control.

  "Just a tad," the admiral said as he settled himself. "Comm, open the channel once more," he ordered.

  The ship's A.I. nodded to him. “Live mike, sir," he said as the red light above the cameras in front of the admiral came on.

  "First off, Admiral Toronto, I'm not a recording," Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons retorted. The gorilla's eyes widened briefly as his people put the transmission through, then narrowed quickly in speculation and recognition that it truly was over. As the kong started to open his mouth, Admiral Irons rolled on. "I am on the battle cruiser Admiral Butley. I am not a recording or A.I. I am here to put a stop to that farce of a trial and set Bek straight once and for all."

  “Personal IFF key being transmitted now,” Protector stated.

  Admiral Irons sat back and nodded once as he watched the gorilla's reaction. There was about a light minute between the starships and the fortress shell.

  Finally, the gorilla grimaced and then addressed the camera. "Sir, this is highly irregular. I'll take that you are on Admiral Butley on faith for the moment, but …." One hand tugged on his ear in an unconscious reaction to the unprecedented arrival of the admiral.

  "Then get in a shuttle and get your fuzzy ass over here if you don't believe me. I'll have it well seared within an hour. We're going to Command One to settle this once and for all. I've got some people to straighten out and others to fire. Some long overdue."

  The Neogorilla admiral nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

  "If you don't want to be one of them, you damn well better stay out of my way," Admiral Irons said. "I'm fed up with this bullshit, and it stops here and now," he said flatly.

  "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

  Admiral Irons' eyes turned cold as ice. "Yes, you should be. But the recriminations will start after I deal with certain people."

 
:::{)(}:::

  Admiral Toronto got the report of the stealthed ships moving in to englobe the starships while he was on the shuttle in transit to the battle cruiser flagship. He swore and looked unconsciously to the MPs and Marines he'd brought along with him.

  If he'd wanted to do anything adverse with the three starships, their appearance had changed things and shut him down. The personnel on the shuttle were excited about the change. Based on the repeater plot, he was seeing some of his own ships were breaking ranks and discipline to join them. It was all over but the crying he thought in disgust as he threw the tablet down in his lap and closed his eyes.

  :::{)(}:::

  “I'd like to see both of you on my ship as soon as practical,” Admiral Irons said in a conference call to Vice Admiral Champion and Commodore Yashido. Both flag officers nodded. He could see both of the ladies were very well-disciplined, but they couldn't help but have a twinkle in their eyes at the sight of him.

  He snorted inwardly. “I take it things have been rough?”

  “Yes, sir. I'd like to say just short of a full civil war but I'd be wrong,” Admiral Champion replied grimly, her eyes back to normal. “We've had one shooting incident and other problems.”

  “Damn. And Horatio?”

  “I'm sending you a log now, sir.”

  “Good. Give me the high points or low points while I wait on Admiral Toronto.”

  “Yes, sir. The trial is still on. Admiral Logan has recovered from the latest assassination attempt and has been very good at picking apart Admiral Childress. He's been one hell of a sore thorn in the Admiralty's side.”

  Admiral Irons nodded, outwardly professional, but inward he was filled with elation that they'd made it in time. That meant all of the risks he had taken had been worth it.

  “Sir, I hope you don't mind our position. We …,” the commodore stopped herself.

  “What Yukio is trying to say is that, unfortunately, we believe that you need the protection,” Admiral Champion stated. “This isn't a way to intimidate you, sir.”

  “I gathered as much. I would have come in something better, no disservice to Admiral Butley and company,” Admiral Irons said, turning slightly to pitch his voice to the unseen bridge crew. “But we're all we had available in Pyrax at the time. Rear Admiral V'r'z'll launched the Eastern Front.”

  Admiral Champion's eye gleam returned. “She did?”

  “Yes, indeed she did. Not without a bit of grumbling about the lack of resources. She's had to make do with the ships we can turn out in Pyrax and Antigua. Mostly from Pyrax I admit. Her mission has also been on the back burner for some time.”

  “But it is off and running now, sir?” Commodore Yashido asked.

  “Yes. They should be well on their way to B88R by now. I'll know more when I get an update in B-102c of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Ah,” Admiral Irons said as he looked off screen. “It seems my guests have arrived. He smiled thinly. The two flag officers returned echoing smiles. “I'll just see to him and then we'll talk some more.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you for coming, sir.”

  “We'll talk about that too, at a later date. Irons out.”

  Chapter 43

  Lieutenant Colonel Valenko Kodiak checked the status of the units he'd assigned for the next invasion. He was doing it methodically but against normal procedure. Instead of targeting the site of the most resistance, he'd focused his forces on the smaller continents and islands to clear them leaving the largest for last. It had let the enemy dig in and consolidate, but that was fine. He wasn't going anywhere and neither were they. And now that he had their perimeter secure, they had no place to run to.

  He had to admit, the other continents and islands hadn't been easy. He hadn't expected a cakewalk. The enemy had been occupying the planet for nearly two decades, and they'd inserted their insurgents decades prior to that to give them a warm reception. It was done though, the natives might not fully appreciate their liberation just yet, but they would eventually.

  At least the ones who weren't human. The humans were just a little guilt riddled. Those who had actively collaborated with the Horathians in terrorizing and “cleansing” their Neo and alien neighbors weren't breathing any longer. That had been an ugly affair, one he was glad his Marines could safely say they were not a part of. They'd left it all in the hands of the locals and called it local autonomy and justice.

  But, the main continent was a big one, a big bastard that would take time for his people to comb over. They'd already been at it for the better part of two months. Now the real invasion would begin.

  The fun thing was in taking the other continents he could assault from the beaches as well as from orbit. That would force this Colonel Bericus to consider his options carefully. He knew from captured radio chatter that the colonel intended to resist his landing.

  We'll see about that, he thought as he tucked his hands behind his massive back and watched the last of his forces board the shuttles.

  :::{)(}:::

  Major Chase Rice sometimes wondered about his boss. He still was of two minds about the priority of the invasion, but what was done was done, they couldn't change it. He had to admit though that by picking the small fry first it had allowed them to concentrate their forces, blood them, test the enemy, and each crushing victory had crushed the surviving enemy's morale elsewhere. Captain Aliana had reported that the Horathians were shooting their own people for desertion. That was good; they were saving the Marines the trouble.

  They had militia forces, most of them made up of the few surviving Neo and alien natives who'd come out of hiding to watch over their conquered territory with a couple companies as they'd re-consolidated for the big push.

  It had taken a week but they were ready. He was looking forward to hitting the bastards and putting them out of everyone's misery once and for all.

  :::{)(}:::

  Staff Sergeant Asazi nodded expressionlessly to her troops as she did a final visual inspection as they boarded the shuttle. “Who's not ready?” she asked ever so softly. No one answered.

  “The natives have suffered enough. Watch your fire but don't get shot because you let someone in close that shouldn't be there. You know the drill. Set the perimeter, then follow the mission plan.” She surveyed the troops again. She'd lost a couple in the last mission, but that had been a tough nut to crack.

  This mission was shaping up to be even tougher she knew.

  She would miss having Pin'sh at her back. Her fellow Staff Sergeant had been injured in her own OPS and was stuck on light duty covering their conquered territories until she fully recovered. She wished the bug well.

  She turned her head when she saw motion out of her eye. Captain JG Leena Chen waved a hand and then made a roundup motion over her head. She nodded and then climbed the ramp, took the opposite side from the flight engineer and then waved her troops on board as the shuttle's systems came to life.

  :::{)(}:::

  Warrant Officer Hurranna didn't have time to check the status of her old friends. She'd been too busy and so were they to be distracted. Eventually, when things slowed down they'd try to look each other up. She did check the status boards each day and knew that Asazi, Pin'sh, and of course Valenko were still alive and kicking ass. That was good.

  Her people were going in second, which was why they were doing one last meeting to go over target priorities. They would be following in the wake of the orbital bombardment set to commence in an hour and a half.

  :::{)(}:::

  Commander Dutch Lefou grimaced as he tried to keep his eyes from darting about. Despite his looks, he had lost weight. Not that his erstwhile partner saw him as anything but contemptible despite their rank. He checked his cloak and the paunch that hid some of their meager belongings and then looked over to Commander Gibson.

  And she was Commander, technically Lieutenant Commander, Maya Gibson, not Maya. The prickly blue-haired woman had turned her icy blue eyes on him when he'd made
the mistake of calling her Maya once. He might outrank her but he knew where the real power in the relationship laid.

  Sometimes he wondered why he'd stayed out and hadn't reported in to Colonel Bericus. The recent arrival of the Federation Marines had shown him that he'd been wise to forgo reporting in. Talking Commander Gibson into following along had been tough. It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to get her to quit wanting to report in. It wasn't like they had a fighter for her to fly.

  His mind briefly wandered back to where he'd found her in the wreckage of her fighter. Her brandishing her weapon had made it clear she wasn't a woman to be trifled with. He was glad she'd grabbed her emergency survival kit; even if a lot of it had proven useless on the ground, some of it had come in handy later.

  He could have taken advantage of her the first couple of nights when she'd rested and recovered, but her warnings and his need to stay on her good side had made him hold off. They'd camped in the woods for several days before the rains had driven them to find better shelter. They'd found a burned-out farm and had camped in the barn for several days before people moving around had made them nervous enough to move on.

  They more or less blended in now; they both wore native clothes, though it had been hard to get her to give up her flight suit. She'd clung to it like a baby with a security blanket for months after the crash. Only the final realization that she wasn't going to get off the mudball anytime soon had forced her to give it up. That and a close call when they'd been searched by a small-town sheriff and posse. The timely attack by Colonel Bericus's raiders on a neighboring town had cut off the search and allowed them to remain out of jail …or worse. He still shuddered at the bodies of fellow Horathians or native sympathizers that had been caught and strung up by the locals.

  He had tried to get her to settle down, find a nice place, and blend in. If they kept their heads down, they'd eventually be able to join the society. If the empire ever returned, well, they'd find a way to cover their asses. But she'd insisted on staying mobile. So, they'd joined a trade caravan. When Lorn the wagon master had realized who they were, he'd turned them out … minus their horses.