by Chris Hechtl
“No one ever is. That is why you train a good staff and nurture them wisely,” Admiral Irons replied with a nod.
“Point. I've learned my lesson,” Phil replied grudgingly.
Admiral Irons wondered if he had. He decided to let it go though.
“Anything else we need to cover?”
“Final boarding call for Federation One,” Protector interjected with a quip.
“I think they'll wait for this passenger,” Phil retorted, eyes flashing as he looked up and then down to the admiral.
“Sorry, I couldn't help it, sir,” Protector replied meekly.
“Better.” The vice admiral replied. “Do they always do that?”
“It depends on the personality and what they need to say. Remember, Phil, they are people too. Just ones without bodies.”
“Yeah. It seems unfair. I can't physically kick anyone's ass, nor wring their necks no matter how much they might deserve it,” Phil growled.
“Trust me; Protector is mild compared to Sprite! And Defender was at the other end of the spectrum,” Admiral Irons said, shaking his head in despair.
“I'll take your word for it,” Admiral Subert replied dryly. “Safe sailing, sir,” he said as he extended a hand.
Admiral Irons took it, and they shook hands briefly. When they disengaged, Phil came to attention. They exchanged salutes, then Admiral Irons smiled.
“I'm glad you've got a good port here, Phil. Take care of it while you are here.”
“I will.”
Chapter 61
Garth
Captain Ozman wasn't the only one to feel a thrill of pride at the sight of the arrival of the relief force. She'd been aware of the dreadnought squadron and the squadrons of lesser ships, but apparently Courageous had managed to catch up to them along their way.
The eight massive ships made an impressive force. The destroyer flotilla screening them was barely noticed by the titans behind them. The destroyers were like ants getting out of the way of massive predators on the march.
When they got within range, she opened a channel to talk with the admirals in charge. “It's very good to see you, sir. Sirs,” she said, nodding to the split image of Admiral Wong. He was something of a legend in Battle Fleet. She was awed to be speaking with him.
Rear Admiral Mueller was also someone she was aware of, though peripherally. He was a member of the Mueller clan. He was a good officer according to the little she'd heard of him.
Captain Ozman let slip about how Admiral De Gaulte and Commodore Rabideau were the only flag officers. “You mean to tell me Cyrano's been on his own this entire time?”
“Yes, sir. Our last communication with them was a freighter saying Commodore Rabideau has been dispatched with a force to raid behind enemy lines. So, Admiral De Gaulte is it.”
“He didn't frock anyone?”
She shook her head. “No, sir, not that I'm aware of.”
“None of the other flag officers survived? None at all?” Admiral Wong asked pointedly.
“Not that I am aware of,” the captain replied. “One of them might have survived but had been injured and returned to Horath, but I am unaware of anyone like that passing through Garth. Did anyone report in?”
“Other than the damaged ships and Princess Ramichov, no. I don't know of any injured personnel in the media or in the grapevine,” Admiral Wong stated with a shake of his head. “I talked with the princess personally. Now that I think of it, she didn't mention anyone.”
“I see.”
“Well, if he doesn't have anyone to coordinate with, he really is as bad off as she reported. Then I guess we'd better get going.”
“He has Commodores Rabideau and Couglin by now, sir." Admiral Mueller's expression didn't change. "You aren't going to stop at the planet and visit the duchess, sir?” the captain ventured carefully. She checked to make sure the exchange was being recorded. Something told her she'd need it to cover her ass later.
“Considering the urgency of stopping the enemy, no, not at this time. I'll have my staff send her my regrets,” the admiral said, turning expectantly to look at Admiral Scott Mueller's image. The admiral hesitated and then nodded.
“Yes, we need to get to Dead Drop. Even hours might make the difference between holding it and seeing it fall.”
“Can we supply you with anything you need?” Agnes asked.
“No.”
“Very well, sirs. Safe sailing,” the captain replied.
“I don't know about safe,” Admiral Wong replied with a sniff. His old eyes gleamed with the challenge of a good fight. “I've been looking for a proper dust-up for a while. I almost went with Cyrano the first time.”
“Be glad you didn't,” Admiral Mueller replied dryly.
“Oh, I don't know, I might have made a difference. I know Skull Squadron would have shredded the enemy's forces,” the old admiral said with a feral grin that made his eyes crease and almost disappear.
“My staff is plotting a course now,” Admiral Mueller said pointedly.
“Very well. Let's get this show back on the road,” Admiral Wong said. He nodded to the captain and then cut the channel. Admiral Mueller snorted once, nodded to her briefly, and then cut the channel as well.
:::{)(}:::
Glennis had been hip deep in preparing for the arrival of the relief force's senior officers, so she hadn't caught the news of their passing her by initially. Every time someone tried to tell her, she'd fire off a bunch of orders and then dismiss them before they got the chance. When her staff finally explained it to her, she was pissed that they didn't have the decency to stop for a visit.
“It's not a snub, ma'am,” Agnes explained patiently. “They were in a hurry, ma'am.”
“But …”
“As Admiral Mueller stated, even hours may mean the difference between holding Dead Drop and arriving after it falls. A lot of good people are riding on their timely arrival,” the captain explained patiently.
Glennis grunted.
“I understand the respective officers sent their regrets, ma'am?” she asked as Glennis stared at another screen. From personal experience, Agnes was certain the screen was the plot of the star system. That meant the duchess was glowering at the icons moving out of her area.
“Yes,” Glennis finally ground out. “Yes, they did.”
“Well, perhaps they will stop on their return trip. Or the next force to come through will have the time, ma'am,” Agnes said at an attempt at soothing her.
Glennis grimaced and ran a frustrated hand through her bangs before she let her hand drop. “Fine. Whatever. I was looking forward to the ball—not the preparations for it. Now I've spent all that time, not to mention effort and money in planning and preparing for it out of the blue for nothing. I can get my deposits back but …,” she shook her head.
“Unfortunate, ma'am.”
“It is. It is indeed,” Glennis grumbled as she cut the channel.
:::{)(}:::
Four days after the relief force passed through Garth, the courier assigned to Trembling Timmy arrived with news of the second attack force south of them. “Thank the gods in space we made it! We damn near bought it, and our hyperdrive isn't happy right now,” the captain said when he reported in.
Agnes made certain to go over his report carefully before she passed it on to the duchess. Either way she knew that the news wouldn't be received well.
She was definitely correct about that.
The news sent the duchess into a tizzy before she could get into details. “See? If they'd stayed, they would have been here!” she practically shrieked. Now what do we do?!?” she demanded.
“First, we send a tin can to Admiral De Gaulte to let him know, ma'am. I'm ordering the courier's resupply and any repairs to be expedited. They can make the run to the homeworld to get more help. If they take more than a day, I'll send another tin can.”
“And strip our defenders further? I don't think so!”
“Duchess,” the captain said
, voice straining to put as much patience in her tone as possible. “One or two destroyers will not make much of a difference, not based on what is coming at us. The courier is reporting a massive force. We need to get the news out as quickly as possible.”
“You do that. I'm going to draft orders to Admiral De Gaulte to fall back on Garth.”
“Ma'am?” the captain asked.
“You heard me. He'll damn well do his duty or I'll have Frank deal with him,” the duchess said spitefully.
“Ma'am, that is a fear-induced reaction. Please consider your options carefully,” the captain stated.
“I've had enough of your insolence, Captain. Attend to your duties and my orders. I'll have that message shortly,” the duchess snarled as she cut the channel.
Agnes sat back and rubbed her brow. To have gone from soaring excitement after seeing the dreadnought squadron to be shattered by this news in only a few days. It was hard to take. She stared longingly at her small drinking cabinet. “Ah, to hell with it,” she said as she rose and opened the glass doors. She pulled out the closest bottle, uncapped it, and drank it straight from the bottle. She gasped after a mouthful and then took another swig before she stared at the bottle. She wanted to throw the bottle but it was one of the few she had left from home. Instead, she carefully capped it and set it back in its place on the shelf, then gently closed the doors.
She sat down in her chair and rubbed her brows. After a few endless minutes, she realized she had to do something. She inhaled, straightened up, and then began to issue orders.
Chapter 62
Agnosta
It was something of a relief for the crew and passengers on Federation One that the little ship took only four days to get to Agnosta. The hop was the shortest in their return journey.
They broadcast their IFF and were instantly greeted by well-wishing from the various ships in the star system, both military and civilian alike. Protector informed the admiral as he read the downloads from Sprite that there were people camping out at the space port to meet him. The closer they got to the planet, the more ecstatic the population became.
“It's growing to near riot proportions, Admiral.”
“Fun,” he said dryly. He eyed the other officers. “Are you ready for this?” He received nods in reply. “You understand though, as Bekians you might get a cooler response? People are still smarting over the near miss there.”
“Yes, sir. We know.”
“Okay, just warning you,” the admiral said as the captain signaled that they had made orbit. “A shuttle is prepped on the station to take you down when you are ready, sir,” the ship's A.I. informed them.
“Then let's get going,” the admiral stated.
:::{)(}:::
Antigua
“Admiral Irons is reportedly aboard the space station and on his way to the shuttle,” a ticker said. April shook her head as the lunchtime anchor read it almost verbatim, then went into a spiel about what it all meant.
She knew what it meant. He was multitasking. He was passing on the keys to the administration, both civilian and military, meeting and greeting them, plus putting some face time in with the public to mend fences there for his long absence.
He was galvanizing the population and political establishment. Her contacts told her that behind closed doors Irons was on several shit lists for his “unauthorized journey,” though publicly the administration and senators were approving of it. How they would pay him back for their displeasure at being left out in the cold remained to be seen.
For her it apparently meant nothing, not a single comment from him. The least he could have done was write and let her know he was okay. Okay, so, maybe she would have put it on the air. She frowned. Was that a case of his knowing her too well? Her lips made a puckering sound as she considered the problem.
She fully intended for him to catch hell over it. He was going to have to do a sit-down interview with her first before anyone else once he got to Antigua. And he damn well was going to pay for his jaunt in other ways.
:::{)(}:::
Their shuttle hit turbulence while going in to land on Agnosta. Major Burrows clutched at his arm rest as a particularly nasty buck overloaded the shuttle's small inertial dampener and threatened to throw him out of his seat. The seat belt light came on and he grunted.
“Now you tell me,” he muttered as he struggled to fish the thing out from the seat cushions and then put it on.
“Do you need any help, Admiral?” he asked once he finished.
His principle smiled. “Already done,” Admiral Irons said, moving his arm aside and lifting his elbow so the Marine could see the belt around his lap. “Not that it does much other than keep us confined to the seat. We can still knock heads.”
“True, but I'd rather do that then ricochet around the cabin,” the Marine muttered as an overhead compartment panel opened behind them and carryon luggage spilled out. “Stow that!” he snarled, looking over his shoulder as the flight engineer and Marine there got to work cleaning up the mess.
“I don't want to curse us, but I so hope we don't crash. That I can't protect you from,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Believe it or not, I could survive a crash, Tom,” the admiral murmured. The Marine stared at him dubiously and then raised an eyebrow. Admiral Irons shrugged. “It's mostly classified, but I can handle a lot.”
The major caught on and slowly nodded. “Oh yeah, your shields,” he said.
“That and a few other things,” Admiral Irons said with an indifferent shrug.
“Must be nice,” the major muttered, giving his cheerful principle another sidelong look as they banked and hit more turbulence. “I swear they are going through a storm front on purpose,” he muttered.
Admiral Irons snorted and then went back to his reading.
:::{)(}:::
Once the shuttle door opened, he allowed the major to get out first, not that he had any worry of threats at the military base. He stepped out and waved, keeping a polite smile on his face as the winds picked up. It wasn't the coming thunderstorm that bothered him so much as the bands and parade.
“Jersey, Pasha, you shouldn't have. Really,” he said under his breath as the bands began to play a rousing rendition of the Federation anthem.
“Yeah,” he muttered as he waved again. There were bleachers set up, bunting, and thousands of faces of all different species. Not only had the military turned out but also the military families and a selection of civilians too. He saw the cameras and people waving or signaling hello like adolescent females at a rock concert. There were even a few that looked like they were swooning.
“Really, you shouldn't have,” he muttered under his breath again as he stepped down the stairs. They were a little slick from the recent rain. A human aide held an umbrella at the base of the stairs. He waved it off and turned his shields up to shed the water.
“Really Admiral?” Protector asked.
“And you should have warned me,” he growled.
“Would it have done any good if I had?” the A.I. asked, clearly amused as Jersey and Pasha marched up to him.
“Probably not,” he admitted as the two men came to attention and saluted. He returned the salute, and the crowd went wild.
Once he struck the salute, he smiled and waved to the group.
“I'd threaten to get you two for this, but I admit, I should have seen it coming,” he said quietly.
The two men leaned in slightly, but he knew their enhanced hearing had caught it. Jersey smirked ever so slightly.
“Some strategist you are to miss the obvious, Admiral,” Pasha teased as he straightened. “Do you want to address the crowd or get right into the parade?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound I guess,” the admiral replied with a mock heartfelt sigh.
“Good. We've got the passing in review too. It shouldn't take more than most of the day for all the events,” Pasha replied.
“Sadist,” Jersey accused.
; “No, that would be Sprite. I understand she worked with my staff and your staff to get this going,” the army general stated.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold,” the admiral grumbled. “Let's go get this over with.”
“Your adoring public awaits Mister President,” Jersey stated.
:::{)(}:::
Four days later he was back on board Federation One and heartily glad to be there. If his right hand had been flesh and blood, it would have ached from the squeezing it had received. The same for his shoulders. His voice was even, but it would have been gone from all the talking. Thankfully, they intended to skip through B-452c as well as the Briev star system.
“That was … interesting,” Georgi said slowly. “Almost like home. I was starting to feel homesick in a way.”
“I'm glad you felt good about it. We're only going to spend a short time in each star system. I already passed on the keys to the governor of Triang, so no need to do that there. There are also only a couple of small military bases there. Most likely I will visit some of the factories though.”
“Good to know, sir. I may join you there if you don't mind,” Admiral Creator of Things stated.
“And you'd be welcome to do so,” Admiral Irons replied. He had grown to like the T'clock.
“But first, we have to get there I understand,” Admiral Champion stated. “Is it really as hard as they say it is, sir?”
“It depends on who you ask. Do you know how to handle a skip? I mean physically. It can take a lot out of you.”
The assembled officers shook their heads or signaled no. “Okay. Skipping sucks,” Admiral Irons said. “It's worse than the rapids but thankfully brief. Here's what you can do to keep from embarrassing yourself,” he said. He showed them and their A.I. how to control the nausea.
:::{)(}:::
Six hours before they jumped for B-452c, Admiral Irons received word via the ansible that a pair of ships had arrived in the B-102c star system. They were heavy cruisers, fresh from their working-up exercises.
