The Gathering Storm (The New Federation Book 4)

by Chris Hechtl

  :::{)(}:::

  Ensign Riley Sutter grinned as the enemy's formation started to come apart. “Ah, someone guessed,” she drawled. Her fighter was lovingly nicknamed her plastic pal 2. It and the R2 onboard sat close to her heart, right next to her love of plastic pal number one. They even vibrated similarly when she got excited.

  She saw Lieutenant Red Eyes launch on the nearest Arboth as it tried to turn its broadside on them. It was the stupidest move the ship could have made. It might open up their point defense clusters but it gave them a nice juicy target.

  “Fox Three Alpha, Fox Three Baker away!” the lieutenant yodeled as two torpedoes leapt out from under his craft and to the destroyer.

  :::{)(}:::

  “Damn you; do as I order you …”

  “It's too late,” a familiar voice said softly. He looked up to Su and then to the plot as he saw the fighters begin to launch torpedoes. “Frack. Incoming fire!”

  “I know!” the captain snarled. “Taking evasive action. Anyone in my way is going to get a graser up their ass!”

  :::{)(}:::

  Ensign Sutter grinned in savage delight as the first torpedo Lieutenant Red Eyes had fired hit despite everything the enemy could throw at it. Her force emitter forward warhead tore and shredded at the shield and let the real warhead through. The real warhead traveled the blink of an eye to the outer hull and then went off, projecting her nuclear charge directly into the hull of the ship right above the starboard boat bay entrance.

  The ship's lights flickered and her energy levels dropped as did her fire allowing the second torpedo to get through as well. It hit below the boat bay and sent its charge into the ship as well.

  Two torpedoes were too much for the ship. It came apart, spraying the area. “Bugger!” she snarled, jinking and evading.

  Two of the enemy destroyers had been frantically maneuvering as well but less than a hundred thousand kilometers away from the ship. Their shields were peppered with multiple hits.

  She saw Lieutenant Red Eyes's fighter continue in with the other fighters. Most likely he thought he could provide cover and a distraction. She shook her head at the thought but then lined up on another destroyer that had lost its shields due to the multiple impacts. She laid a laser designator on the ship. When the tone went from beeping to a steady whine, she grinned. “Fox Three Alpha! Fox Three Baker!” she caroled, triggering one of the torpedoes. She made certain it had maintained lock before she rolled to evade the incoming fire.

  A point defense laser caught her right shield sending her spinning a bit more than she wanted. She grunted, doing her Kegel exercises and relying on her implants to keep her from blacking out as her fighter's small inertial dampener bled too much of the inertial change into the cockpit.

  She'd left it too long, but she'd had to do it that way. You can't fire a missile in a bank; the missile wanted to go off in the wrong direction even with smart programming.

  Her R2 beeped at her as her vision grayed and then returned to normal. She checked the status with a flick of her attention and noted that the Alpha torpedo had been picked off by the defensive fire but Baker had rammed home into the ship's engines near her reactor, tearing the destroyer apart.

  “Scratch two!” she caroled over the fighter net. “Oh shit!” she capped it, jinking hard to evade a lock on from a cruiser. Her R2 needed no prompting to pop chaff and decoys to blind the ship's sensors as she sped past. The snow-white fury of the flares and hissing fury of the jammers and decoys only added to the chaos and confusion around her.

  :::{)(}:::

  Su hissed as two destroyers were lost in what seemed like a blink of an eye. More torpedoes were fired but the cruisers were harder targets to hit. They picked off half of the incoming torpedoes, but four got through everything they had to hit one of the destroyers and one of the cruisers. A third destroyer, Harpy, lost her drive when two of the main engines were torn apart while the medium cruiser Creeping Death belched debris out her flanks and then went dead, everything including her drive just went offline. That spelled a hit to her power train.

  “Frack!” the commodore snarled.

  The fighters kept going through their formation, dancing, twisting, and weaving like insane flies as explosions ripped at the massive ships. Then they were clear.

  The fact that they'd somehow picked off two of the damn things was barely noticed. What concerned her was that the real battle was going to begin in less than twenty minutes, and they had just been torn up.

  :::{)(}:::

  From the beginning, the three Federation ships knew that they had no other choice but to run the gauntlet. If they had tried to turn, they would have slid into the arms of the enemy forces and had been picked off. The same if they'd tried that maneuver and had split up.

  Instead Captain Litchi opted for a least-time head-on battle. Suicide in anyone's book.

  The second part of the battle on the jump point started when the three ships opened fire at long range. The fighters had beamed back what they could about the enemy's ships and their capabilities. The Federation warships and their A.I. had done their best to process that data in the limited time available and put it to use.

  It did not go to waste, nor did the unfortunate loss of Lieutenant Red Eyes.

  “Down their throats,” Captain Litchi growled. “Let's finish what the fighters started.

  :::{)(}:::

  The Horathian squadron's tactical organization was shattered in the chaos. The various crews did their best to try to recover, but there wasn't enough time. They were limited to their own sensors and an audio link to try to see and coordinate their actions.

  The last Horathian destroyer Kang took a series of hits from the coordinated fire of the three Federation ships. She listed aside, a wreck of shredded debris to clear their path. Shrilanka ran through her expanding cloud of gases and debris, taking hits on her shields in the process.

  The light cruiser Oakenshield was the focus of their fire next. It was battered into an air bleeding wreck as the cruisers focused. The Federation ships instantly switched to another target as they continued to weave and defend each other.

  The medium cruiser Creeping Death got her shields and drive back up just in time to get them battered back down again. She puffed last ditch RTS burns to try to frantically get out of the line of fire of the enemy ships.

  The light cruiser Assassin's Creed was on the other side of Creeping Death. She only took a few hits since her older and larger consort shielded her with her own body.

  Then they were through. Not without sustaining injuries of their own however. Every surviving ship on each side was damaged to various degrees. As they limped clear, Captain Litchi's Shrilanka lost most of her sublight drive. One of her nacelles was almost torn almost off; it dangled and flopped about, hitting the hull and doing further damage. Her consorts continued to cover her as she went on ballistic, and her damage control techs did their best to get the ship's systems back online.

  :::{)(}:::

  The Horathian ships were facing the wrong way and inertia was against them. A few had managed to cut their drives and turn with the passing ships to rake them, but Commodore Rabideau realized there was no point going after them again. As he watched with baleful eyes, the surviving enemy fighters made their way to their motherships, undoubtedly to rearm. He surveyed his smoke-filled bridge and then his surviving ships. He couldn't afford another exchange not at that ratio.

  His jaw worked a few times before he turned and began to issue orders to salvage what they could.

  “Sir?” Captain Needlemier asked, coughing. The signal cut in and out before it just went to audio only. “What about the mission, sir?” he asked dubiously. It was clear from his tone he already knew the answer.

  “The mission is scrubbed. Order the support ships to jump for Dead Drop now. We'll follow at our best speed,” he said grudgingly.

  Su bit her lip until she tasted blood when she saw the look on his face. But he thankfully didn't turn a
n accusing look on her. Instead he went over and helped a fallen tech up and then knelt next to Lieutenant Dolin who was trying to use his good hand to pull the jagged piece of metal sticking out of his arm. The commodore stopped him and then allowed a medic in to bind the wound so the lieutenant wouldn't bleed out. She dumbly realized she'd never noticed it before she frantically did a self-assessment. She wasn't certain about her sigh of relief when she realized she was whole and undamaged. She was sore; she didn't know why. But she had a duty and her commodore was leading the example so she began to help.

  :::{)(}:::

  Lieutenant Opal looked around the brig and wondered why he was under his rack instead of on it. He finally realized that he'd somehow gotten under there when the ship had taken damage.

  Obviously, they'd been in a battle. He looked out the viewport to the corridor outside. There was a lot of smoke and even a body. "Hey!" he said then coughed. "In here!"

  He wasn't certain what he could do in the brig … other than suffocate. It would really suck to die at the hands of his own people he thought before he saw the master-at-arms come by.

  "Sit tight. The battle is over," she said as she directed a robot to remove the body.

  "Two more in the brig are dead. One injured," she called out to someone around the bend.

  "Who won?" he asked, and then coughed again.

  The woman shrugged and then continued to check the other cells.

  "Right," the lieutenant drawled. Apparently, he didn't have the need to know. Perfect. He went over to his rack and took a seat. Only when he sat did he notice the blood dripping from the top bunk. He looked up to it and found a headless corpse and a jagged piece of metal. He stared at it, wide-eyed in shock.

  "Ah, for the love of …," the woman's voice said from the open porthole. "Cleanup in cell three!" she bellowed.

  :::{)(}:::

  Once his flag bridge was clear of wounded, Commodore Rabideau turned to Su. She bit her lip and then dropped her eyes.

  “That bad?” he grunted. “I pretty much surmised it. Status?”

  “SAR ships are out. We're the only ship fully functional. Raging Demon insists she can get her systems back online. Assassin's Creed is marginal. Creeping Death and Oakenshield are not responding. Kang is a dead stick though there might be signs of life in Creeping Death.”

  “Three ships … did that?” he asked slowly, turning to the quivering plot in wonder. “Three ships did all that. Talk about sticking your hand into something you shouldn't or cornering a shrew!” He shook his head and then hung it in despair.

  “And the fighters, sir,” she reminded him softly. He grunted slightly to acknowledge the point.

  “They are hurt though,” a tech said.

  “So are we,” Su said, turning to him. “We've got crippled ships. We've got people scattered out there watching their air run out.”

  The commodore leaned over a railing and stared at the plot for a long moment.

  Finally, Su couldn't stand it anymore. “Sir?”

  “Yes, Commander, I hear you,” he said. He finally straightened up. He squared his shoulders and then turned to her. “Order the other ships to make what repairs they can. Have Raging Demon, Assassin's Creed, and Hunter assist where they can. Order the SAR shuttles out to find anyone we can while we can. Get boarding parties to the ships not responding and find out why.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “As soon as we've got everyone back, any ships that can't move under their own power will be scuttled. Status of the enemy?”

  “They are moving clear of the battle zone. It looks like they are sheltering one damaged ship,” a tech reported quietly.

  “Well, at least we've got that in favor of us,” the commodore said quietly.

  Su dropped her head and fought the tears of relief at surviving and sorrow over the defeat from falling.

  It wasn't easy.

  :::{)(}:::

  Warily, the three Federation ships watched the enemy lick their wounds. They continued on their own ballistic course with their own people doing what they could for damage control.

  From their long-range assessment, Captain Litchi was grimly satisfied by what he saw. His fighters were reloaded, but for the moment, he was holding them for any defensive action. It looked like they'd sucked the wind out of the enemy's sails anyway.

  Three of the four destroyers had been destroyed. They Horathians had also lost one light cruiser in the exchange. The last surviving tin can and the two cruisers were barely moving under their own power. No, make that three he thought, noting the power on the medium cruiser as it came back online.

  “Course change. They are headed to the jump point back to Dead Drop,” CIC reported tiredly.

  “Damn. Well, I'd say that was fun, but … damn,” Captain Illiu said. Captain Litchi started when he heard the voice. He looked around tiredly until he found the image of the captain on his number two screen. Apparently, the captain's link was still up.

  “Status?” he asked. He was tired and sore and wasn't certain why the battle hadn't lasted more than a few minutes.

  “I'm working on it now. Most of our weapons are gone, Skipper,” his XO said. “We've got half our drive and shields. Half the crew is offline, dead or wounded.”

  Captain Litchi winced but held onto his grim determination to see things through to the end.

  “Our weapons are about shot too. We're shot dry on missiles and counter missiles,” Captain Illiu reported. “Fighters are on board. We've got two torpedoes left for them. My chief engineer reports minor frame damage. Half our sensors are shot, the starboard half, but he said he can run lines and plug in new ones as soon as the radiation dies down to a dull roar. Power, shields, and drive are mostly solid.”

  “We've just about shot ourselves dry here too. My engineer reports some frame damage, but she is working on it now. It looks like Shrilanka caught the worst of the exchange,” Captain Falling Drop stated.

  Captain Litchi nodded. The fact that none of their ships had been lost was amazing. No doubt the fighters had softened the enemy up just enough to allow their mothership's survival. That was the only thing he could think of, well, that and blind luck. “You are going to have to go back and report this Falling Drop.”

  The T'clock shook his heart-shaped head and bobbed his antenna in negation. “The hell you say. I can't leave you here all by yourself. We'll have our engineers do what they can.”

  “The last time I checked I'm senior officer,” Captain Litchi reminded him mildly.

  “Yeah, by three months in grade.”

  “Still …”

  “Gentlemen, despite our damage, Osborne is still hyper capable. I'll go back as soon as my engineers clear us. In the meantime, I suggest we all continue to lick our wounds and keep an eye on our uninvited playmates.”

  “Point. In other words, can we at least wait until the enemy leaves before dividing our forces and inviting them back?” Captain Falling Drop asked.

  “Okay. That much we can do,” Captain Litchi replied grudgingly.

  “I bet he was trying to get them to come back just to have them all to himself,” Captain Illiu joked in a sotto voice to Captain Falling Drop.

  “Probably,” the T'clock chittered in amusement.

  “No comment,” Captain Litchi replied dryly.

  Chapter 46

  B-97c

  Under Lieutenant Guadino's direction, Bismark's CIC analyzed the enemy ion tracks in each of the star systems. Her intent had been to fingerprint the ships and get a rough number and timeline of when ships came and went through each system. A PO saw something and kept running scenarios and sensor sweeps until her exasperated section chief came over to see what was the big deal. “It's just, something … something is hinky. It doesn't add up,” the young woman said absently as she worked the problem. Her fingers touched the trackball and moved the 3D map around and then she clicked on another area to sample.

  “What?” Petty Officer Third Class Micel Lopez demanded.
Spacer Nadya Pleak was something of a space-out type, going down rabbit holes and getting caught up in exploring rather than doing her job. Keeping her on task was part of his job.

  A job he had gotten distracted from with his conversation with the bosun it seemed.

  It's just, they weren't headed to us. To the B-97c jump point I mean. Not initially. See the ion track? It follows this one,” the tech said, using a stylus to point to a series of lines.

  “Okay …??” the PO asked, crossing his arms. His body language said he wasn't impressed.

  “It's not a course to B-97c. That's what I'm trying to tell you,” she persisted almost desperately.

  Micel stilled as he finally caught on to what she was trying to tell and show him. “Are you sure about that?” he asked very carefully as he started to think of the implications. “How many ships are we talking about?”

  Nadya nodded, feeling almost intense, orgasmic relief that she wasn't in trouble. “Yes. I'm running another check now, but I'm pretty sure it was to B-97b. It's the only star system on that heading that fits. I'm not sure how big a movement. Some of the tracks are old.”

  “Interesting.”

  “And think about it. Two cruisers and a freighter were on their way elsewhere, right into the teeth of Second Fleet. Why?”

  “They could be dropping nasty surprises. We surprised them with mines recently, remember?”

  “But two cruisers and a single freighter? A single freighter won't hold much PO,” she said with a shake of her head.

  Micel thought about the implications and didn't like the scenarios that came to mind. Nadya was right; there was no reason for those ships to be there. And why go to B-97b? There was nothing there. Unless … “You really do like to give me headaches, don't you?” he sighed.

  “PO?”

  “It's okay. It's your job. But if you keep this up, you're going to be tossed into a mustang course. Good job.”