by Chris Hechtl
Even though it had two fewer engines, the engines it did have were slightly more powerful than the quartet in the Z-95. The designers had taken great steps to streamline the ship's parts to make it easier to maintain aboard ship; something she knew the engineers and techs were heartily glad to see.
The new fighter design had finally split the bombers from the fighters. The bombers had a beefier generation 2 design, with a broader, longer fuselage. They'd introduced A.I. support earlier on it as well, which had reduced the crew to two and had also reduced the life support demands … but had required shoehorning in additional electronics and finding a way to power it that the techs were still muttering dark things about. They were due a new bomber design next.
Which only made sense. The bomber platform had been turned into a general-purpose craft for AWACs. They still had to rely on fuel shuttles to replenish however. There was some talk of building a replenishment craft that could both refuel a bird and rearm it while in flight, but she was a bit leery about having someone using robotic arms around her birds. One wrong move …
She shook herself ever so slightly to get over that thought. It wasn't doing her any good anyway.
It was amazing in a way that they could churn out so many fighters and ships so quickly Adrienne reflected. And getting them into the hands of her and her pilots was a great thing. She'd heard that the older fighter designs were being used as reserves and as training craft. She hoped so. It was stupid to just scrap them. Argus was being kept on as a part of the Sol home fleet, or defense fleet, or whatever they decided to call it.
Lexington wouldn't be going out to the Altair picket on her own. She had a small fleet train as well as a pair of destroyer escorts to call her own. Word was Constitution II would be one of the destroyers. The carrier task force had a dedicated refueling tender and a collier, the 711, with parts for the ship and fighters. A dedicated munitions collier, the M12, was also with the small task force to keep the fighters fed with munitions.
She looked up as she heard her pilots laughing and cajoling as they made their way to the ready room. Time to get your game face on gal, she thought, schooling her face into the “old lady” expression.
(@)()(@)
Jan walked into Admiral Lewis's office and noticed his black scowl as he looked at a tablet. “What? Something I should know about?” she asked.
“Kenneth,” he said, setting the tablet down.
“Kenneth. Oh, you mean his request to transfer to Ark Royal?” Jan asked. Ark Royal was the second full carrier in production. Lagroose Industries had learned from the reports from Lexington and were applying that knowledge to hopefully make the second carrier better and less prone to bugs. At least, that was the theory she thought.
Not that she'd have Ark Royal anytime soon. Walter had cut a deal to keep half the large ships in Sol to defend it. Destroyers would be sent to the colonies to picket them. Since it took months for each of the larger ships to be produced, she expected that she'd get them in small doses every few months. Most of her reinforcements would be comprised of destroyers, tugs, and missile pods.
At least she'd convinced Walter to rotate the ships between Sol and the hyperbridge picket. That way each could benefit from the time in space. The schedule was shaping up so a ship would spend her initial three months working up and shaking down in Sol. When her follow-on was launched, she would return for a refit and down cycle of about a week, then she'd replenish and head to the hyperbridge for picket duty there.
Unfortunately, that didn't include Ark Royal since she was intended as a flagship. She wouldn't get another carrier unless it was an escort carrier or until the third carrier Concord launched next year.
A small movement made her break off her side thought to pay attention to the here and now. “Yes, Tiffany is right. All the kids following in my footsteps …,” Walter grimaced and scrubbed at his face.
“They aren't so much as following in your footsteps as moving in your general direction.”
“Bullshit. They were into the romanticism of being a hero in uniform. Look where it got Josh and Taylor,” he growled, waving a dismissive hand.
Jan nodded sagely as she took a seat. She could see that Walter was struggling with allowing Renee and Kenneth into combat. Renee was into ships, but she had a ways to go before she turned eighteen. Kenneth, however, was over the age of eighteen and was a good fighter pilot.
Jan looked at him sympathetically and then shook her head.
He stopped what he was doing to look at her. “What?”
“You are in a fight you can't win.”
“The hell I can't,” he growled, eyes flashing. “I am her superior officer. Kenneth's too.”
“And their father. You are in the same position many parents have been in over the ages, seeing and knowing their children are putting themselves in harm's way. If you push it, sure you can force them into a different mold. But they'll be bitter as hell and resent you for the rest of their lives.”
“But they'd have that life.”
“It isn't your call, Walter,” Jan said gently. “You know they are too much like you and Tiffany. Give over. You can't play favorites here. It's not right to do that to them. It will haunt their careers if you do. It will also damage your career, and if it hits the public, it will undermine confidence in your leadership when we can't afford crap like that.”
“Damn it …,” he muttered as he turned away.
“I know you just want what is best for them. But they have to learn to stand on their own. You and Tiff did a good job of teaching them that. Trust in that. Yes, they could get caught up in the works and killed. News flash, a lot of other families lost their loved ones too,” she reminded him.
He grimaced. He wasn't willing to give over, but he knew deep down she was right.
(@)()(@)
Jan shook her head after she left Walter's office. She wasn't certain he'd take her advice. She hoped so, but it was up in the air. Intellectually she was certain Walt understood the old saying about do as I say, not as I do. She understood nepotism and the counterpoint, shaping a worthy officer's career and shadowing it to help guide them into being an outstanding leader. This wasn't it though she mused as she walked through the office complex.
“Admiral, you wanted a reminder about Lexington. Ensign Lex has emailed me the revised itinerary. It looks like they've gotten the problem with the elevator fixed. It turned out to be a bad fitting,” Ensign Nelson stated over her implants, startling her.
She stopped fast and scowled, alarming a few of the enlisted around her. She looked up to the ceiling. “Ensign, next time, ping my implants, don't access and dump data on me like that,” she growled. She privately admitted she wanted the information, but the way he'd just jumped into her implants had pissed her off.
It wasn't like Lexington was going to get underway for the Altair mission anytime soon. They'd finished the last series of working-up exercises, but they still needed to test the ship's hyperdrive. And some of her task force had yet to be assembled. She was looking at another two months before they could depart, quite possibly three.
“My apologies, ma'am.”
“I want to get underway as quickly as possible, yes,” she said. “But there is protocol. And for the record, doing that violates protocol.”
“Again, my apologies, ma'am.”
“Don't do it again,” she growled at him, wishing she could face him directly. If he was an organic, she could at least leave him quaking in his boots. With an A.I. that was very much in doubt.
“Aye aye, ma’am. The itinerary? Lex reported they are finishing up taking on stores now, ma'am.”
“I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm going to stop for lunch and then head on back,” she growled as she swung back into motion once more.
“I'll pass along that message, ma'am. Is there anything else?”
“No. Now get out of my head,” she growled, waving a hand and making an enlisted Neodog flinch away from her.
“
Aye aye, ma’am.”
(@)()(@)
A single destroyer, the Dagger got underway and made for the Altair jump point to join the picket there. It would take several days before the ship reached the safe jump zone in the outskirts of the star system and then jumped.
She carried orders to send Tau Chan home for rest and refit since the logs reported she had some teething issues, more so than the other three warships. Admiral Lewis had planned to send at least two ships to relieve each defender until he could start building the offensive fleet, but that plan had hit a snag in the form of politics. He had to send at least one destroyer each to the inner colonies, then once he had a few in play he had to provide them logistics and eventual replacements.
Dividing the starships up between building Home Fleet, the Altair jump point picket, the pickets at the colonies as well as the other hyperbridge, and an offensive fleet was obviously going to take time. How much time they had remained a big unknown.
He had to admit though; the shipyards were pulling out all the stops to get as many ships into his hands as possible. He appreciated that effort deeply.
(@)()(@)
Yorrick grinned as he led Padme by the hand to a special place he'd arranged. He turned to see her delight as he moved aside to let her see the crystal-clear wall of windows and the candles on a small table. She smirked a little at him as she went over and brushed her fingertips on the linen table cloth and the empty wine glasses situated there. A bottle of wine was ready for him to open as well.
“Remind you of anything?” he teased as she turned to the view.
“Oh, a lot of things,” she said softly as he closed the compartment door and then came up behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and caught her expression in the reflection of the glass. She touched his hand and then allowed his hand to drift to encircle her waist.
“I know you think this is beautiful. In a way it is. But when we have our honeymoon, we're going to find a different view. One less … industrial,” she teased, looking over her shoulder to him.
He snorted softly and nuzzled her head. “Okay,” he agreed, surrendering.
He knew the view wasn't for everyone, but he was proud of it. From where they were at, they had one of the best views of the yard. And it was a beautiful sight to someone like him. Not only was every dock swarming with lights and activity but new docks were being built nearby. And out beyond them were the lights and tugs assembling new orbital industry to feed the voracious appetite of the shipyard complex.
“Sometimes I wonder how you keep it all running so smoothly,” Padme murmured.
“I don't. It just seems that way to someone looking at it from the outside,” Yorrick admitted.
She snorted. “Well, you could have fooled me!”
“True, you are more of an expert than some,” he stated. She turned in her arms to look at him and then back to the view. “What's that? Is that a colony ship?” she asked, pointing to a ship moving out of the dock. “I thought the company was only working on warships?”
“Well, we are. But the colony ships still need servicing, and well, we've got other uses for them,” he admitted.
She turned, one hand holding his to her waist as she looked up to him. He could see the question in her eyes. He smiled briefly. “We're converting some of the colony ships into troop transports,” he explained. “See, the stasis pods are great to haul soldiers. That way the Marines won't get into trouble and the life support demands, not to mention the power and food, will be minimum.”
“Ah,” she murmured.
“What about that one?” she asked, pointing to a smaller ship. “Now that I know is a destroyer.”
“That it is,” he said, nuzzling the top of her head with his chin as he rocked her gently in his arms. “That one I believe is a picket ship. She's a destroyer; I forget which one. She's actually a Radick design. We got tapped with doing a repair since they ran out of docking space.”
“Really?”
“We're all one big happy family at the moment,” Yorrick replied, sounding a bit chagrined at that.
“Really,” Padme said again, this time in a disbelieving tone of voice.
He snorted ever so slightly. “Well, we're trying to get along. I think the usual shenanigans have taken a back seat since we do actually need to share information and get stuff done if we're going to survive. I don't know how it will work out long term. I think this truce is nice, but eventually one side or the other will want to get a leg up on the competition when money gets tight.”
“Ah,” Padme murmured.
“We've got regular trade with the inner colonies, and yes, we're still sending colonists their way. Not as many now but still some. I think that destroyer will be one of the picket ships. I'm not sure how they'll handle logistics …,” his voice petered out as he thought about the logistics involved and then started to access his implants to find out the answers to the questions the thoughts evoked.
Not to be outdone by a distraction, Padme turned in his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. That certainly broke his concentration on his implants.
When his eyes opened, he saw her green eyes laughingly looking up at him. “Um, where were we?”
“About to share an intimate moment, a rare one together,” she reminded him. “Other things can wait.”
“Ah. Yes, ma’am,” he replied, surrendering.
“Good answer,” her lips smiled invitingly to him as she pulled him down for another kiss.
(@)()(@)
Wendy Lagroose looked at the image of her brother with that hussy and hissed. But her anger was short-lived as Doctor Irons came into her office with Anita Thurman of Lagroose Logistics and Dren Applebee, the company's head legal counsel.
“Yes?”
“I've got a quick and dirty proposal for you,” the professor stated. “I can call a rump board meeting if you wish.”
“We'll probably need it anyway to approve it,” Dren said.
“Approve what?” Wendy demanded as she cut the signal off before they could see that she had been spying on her brother. “What are we talking about?” she asked as she settled herself in her chair as if it was a throne.
“Antimatter. Specifically, your company's stockpile. We've created a couple new weapons and need to test them. If they work we'll need as much antimatter as possible,” Doctor Irons plunged in as Dren looked to him.
“We being the company? Oh wait, Mars University?” Wendy snorted. “As if the university has the funds for that!”
“I'm here at the bequest of the government. I'm heading some of the R&D,” Seanex replied.
“Really,” Wendy drawled wickedly, suddenly seeing dollar signs. Her fingers knit in front of her. She could see Anita fight to hide her own grin. “Tell me more,” she said with a smirk.
Seanex seemed to inhale and then exhale deeply. He knew that getting their hands on the antimatter was about to cost a bundle. But it would be worth it, he reminded himself.
(@)()(@)
President Camp knew his cabinet and Congress were feeling the strain of the war effort, and it hadn't even really gotten started yet. He had to find a balance between what some called the war faction who were gung-ho to go after the aliens and those who wanted to hold off since the threat was over.
When he'd heard enough whining from his educational secretary, he'd had enough. He shook his head and that had brought her concerns for her students and staff to an abrupt end.
“No war has ever been won on the defense. Mark my words, eventually they will be back. They know where we are. They will systematically crush each of our solar colonies one by one. Is that what you want?” President Camp demanded. “To leave our sons and daughters to die in the dark alone defenseless?”
“We should fight there, not here. As far away from here as possible,” General Taylor agreed.
“It's not just that. We shouldn't secede the stars to them or anyone! We invested in those planets; we poured our
blood sweat and tears to make them habitable!” President Camp insisted. Heads began to nod around the table.
“But, sir, we can't throw all of our money at the expense of everything else! We do need to have an economy or there will be no money at all!” the desperate educational secretary pleaded. “We need to encourage our youth to be able to think for themselves or there is no point in fighting at all!”
“Excuse me? Life is worth fighting for whether or not someone has an appreciation for the arts or a college degree,” the labor secretary pointed out witheringly.
“We are near saturation point with current production levels. It will take time before our yards can expand, and they need additional resources to do so. And I understand Cape Suzette is looking into starting their own yard,” the secretary of industry pointed out.
“I bet the big corporations aren't enthused by that at all,” Secretary Marvo, the energy secretary, murmured.
“It depends. One of them might be backing the project as a partnership with the colony,” General Taylor replied. All eyes turned to him. “I don't have a brief on it, so no, I don't know any of that for certain.”
“It is classified as rumor now. They inquired with my office in their latest dispatch. So they aren't at the point where they will be building anything anytime soon,” President Camp stated.
“Pity. I wonder what Jack Lagroose could have done. Hell, what he has done,” Secretary Marvo replied. “I understand he had built some orbital industry as of the last contact?” he asked, turning to from the communications secretary who shrugged and then to Roman.
“I've read some of the letters. I understand that he invested in an automated gas giant refinery platform as well as a space station and satellites. Any more than that I can't say since I don't know.”
“Perhaps it would be wise to go over those letters and such and get some intelligence from them? Just saying,” the secretary of labor stated. “Are we going to set up an intelligence organ?” he asked, turning to the president.
