Court-Martial (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 2)

by Chris Hechtl

  “In fact, have him stop by here. I haven't had a face-to-face with him in a while. I think we're overdue,” she said thoughtfully. Progress on the station had slowed since a lot of their support had gone into protecting the ansible and rebuilding the heavy cruiser. It had thrown a monkey wrench into her carefully laid plans and logistics. They were picking up some speed here and there, but Ilmarinen was also throwing her a lot of curveballs.

  She couldn't wait to rid herself of Captain Clayton and some of his personnel that were under quarters arrest. They were all destined to take the next ride through the rapids to B101a1 and from there to Pyrax for court-martial.

  She snorted softly at that thought, her nostrils dilating delicately in irritation. She'd read the reports, including the one about the trial and how Childress and his supporters were denying the existence of the ansible and the outer Federation. Well, Clayton was going to get an up close and personal look at Pyrax. Well, the brig and prison system in Pyrax at least, she thought dismissively.

  “He'll just love that interruption,” the tech muttered under his breath as he passed on the order. He wasn't certain if he wanted to be on hand to hear the chimp. The chimp could bend metal with his shrieky voice when he was pissed.

  @^@

  “I heard some of the wild ideas being pitched around,” Galiet said with a shake of her head as she came into the suite. She kicked off her shoes and then padded barefoot across the carpet to him.

  “Oh?” her husband asked indifferently, still engrossed in the tablet he was staring at.

  “Yeah, everything from finding Dutchman ships in hyper to boarding them,” she said.

  He snorted. “Are you serious?” he demanded. The very idea of finding a ship in hyperspace was ludicrous. Once it was outside of view it was gone. The chances of being in the right octave and the right band, at the right place and being able to see it, calculating the odds would make any good A.I. cringe.

  “You know the Hollywood types. The idea of finding a ghost ship is appealing. Good drama,” Galiet sniffed.

  “So, you were what, called in to consult? And what Hollywood types?”

  “Drama people. They came in on Sweet Revenge to do some shooting on the station for a documentary. One of them pitched the idea for a pilot during lunch, and I got called in to consult for my sins,” his wife replied with a sniff. “Like I had anything better to do than to drop and run to consult with the likes of them. The Mary Celeste indeed,” she said with a sniff and a roll of her eyes. She looked at his tablet.

  “Did you explain to them that when a ship runs out of power it translates down? All the way down to subspace?” he asked.

  “Yeah. They were all excited about ships in the rapids. I doubt any survived to get out of hyper; the gravitational strings are bad. I showed them what happened to Rolling Thunder and that set them straight.”

  “Ah.”

  “Speaking of which, is that a report on her?” she asked as his implants beeped.

  “No,” he said, shunting the call to his voicemail. He waved the tablet as she got up and padded over to get a bite to eat. “This is someone else's wild idea. It's not too bad; they pitched a solar tap for this star system.”

  “Not as bad? Are you serious?” Galiet demanded as she froze with one hand on the refrigerator door. She stared at him.

  He chuffed. “Yeah. Grab me a beer while you're up,” he said. “And no, the idea isn't bright, too much infrastructure involved for too little a return. We'd have to haul most of it in from outside. No way that can happen. It also won't help with the fuel situation for the fusion reactors, though it would give us a source of hydrogen I think. But, it did get me thinking.”

  “Dangerous thing, thinking,” she teased as she hooked a pair of long necks out of the fridge. “Sylvia and Clennie are on shift, right?”

  “Yes, and the kids are all busy.”

  “Oh, just checking. A bit early for beers,” she said.

  “It's five o'clock somewhere,” he said as he reached for the beer. She playfully kept it out of reach, grinning at him until he changed targets and hooked her to pull her into his lap. She still tried to keep the bottle up and out of his hands so he tickled her to force her arm down. As she chuffed, he snagged the bottle.

  She turned shrewd and wicked eyes on him, hooking her fingers but he held up a restraining finger as he took a pull of his beer. The sight of his artificial arm made her stop. After a moment, the byplay was momentarily forgotten.

  “So,” she coughed.

  “Yeah, um,” he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn it,” he muttered as he realized he'd used the wrong arm. He wiped the beer on the back of the arm.

  “Don't …” she sighed as she scolded him.

  “Well, I could use you,” he said.

  “Don't you dare,” she growled, slapping his chest. “So, why so excited about something you know won't work?”

  “Because, it got me thinking about what could. And I got into thinking about KISS.”

  “Don't mind if I do,” she said, puckering up and kissing him. His eyes widened comically as hers turned devilish.

  “Someone's in a mood,” he gasped when she let him have some air.

  “Maybe,” she said coyly. She snagged his tablet and read the header and looked at the photo. “So, a solar farm?”

  “Yeah, he said grudgingly. “Simpler, easier to engineer. Safer too. We can also add multiple thermal exchange units to convert recovered waste heat into energy. It's actually in Admiral Logan's plan,” he said.

  She nodded. She knew her husband was doing a booming business salvaging the ships in the star system. In fact, they'd had to stop since they were still rationing fuel.

  Many of the ships were being stripped and being set upon since they were destined for the breakers. But there were rows of ships that were supposed to be rebuilt. When was a big question. They needed parts from their sister ships, reconditioned parts, new parts, crew, and they needed fuel. Every computer was being carefully scanned too for any signs of the Xeno wraith virus. They weren't taking chances again.

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “Well, for one you've got to have the investment in resources to get it up and running.”

  “I know. That's a problem I haven't worked out yet,” he grumbled.

  His implants pinged again and he winced.

  “What?” she asked. His face worked. “Out with it. Don't give me that,” she said.

  “I'm getting calls,” he said.

  “So? Answer them!” she scolded.

  He opened the file and then grimaced. “Damn it, I've got to go,” he grumbled. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry,” she said softly as she got off his lap. “Duty calls I take it?”

  “Yeah. I'll take boring routine over surprises right now, thank you.”

  “Oh, when you put it that way …,” she said with a nod.

  “Yeah. Tell the others I might be late for dinner.”

  “You know better. But if you are, I'll have Clennie deal with you,” she growled, eyeing him.

  “Hey, she's still mad at me for protecting the ansible!” he protested as he capped the beer and put it away.

  “See?” she teased.

  “Funny,” he grumbled. He leaned in for a kiss. “I'll call.”

  “You'd better,” she said coyly as she let him escape her clutches. He gave her a jaunty salute as he left the suite.

  @^@

  “You summoned me, Commander?” Chief Bailey asked flippantly as he entered the command deck. He paused and then grinned at the sight of the two battle cruisers trailing behind the heavy cruiser on the main screen. “Hell yeah!” He wasn't the only one to cheer and grin at the sight of the large warships sailing majestically across the screen.

  The commander's gaze was naturally drawn to what the chief was looking at before she turned to him. “I'm not sure two battle cruisers can stop thousands of capital ships
,” Commander Lafleur stated dubiously.

  “We'll see. I don't think it's as much about the ships as what they may be carrying.”

  “You think Admiral Sienkov will make that much of a difference?” the commander asked.

  “I don't know. I have faith he'll make some sort of a splash. How much I don't know. But something has to be done.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We're working with Ilmarinen to continue to repair Rolling Thunder. I wish I could send both with them, but Rolling Thunder is just too fracked up. The frame damage is bad. She is a yard job honestly.”

  “I saw your reports.”

  “Yeah well, they made it worse when they tried to get underway despite my warnings,” the Neochimp grumbled. “We've got more bent spars. We can cut away the bent parts and reshape them, then weld in gussets for strength, but there is only so much we can do.”

  “And I don't like welds in a frame. Not when they were made to be solid,” the commander said. “But it's not my ship.”

  “I know, ma'am, and I admit, I hate it too. So does Rolling Thunder's chief engineer,” he said.

  “Ma'am, we're getting some data from the Admiral Butley. She's sending files to Ilmarinen too.”

  “Oh?”

  “We sent a log when they arrived. They are now transmitting … are those keys?”

  Chief Bailey stiffened when he got an alert through his implants. He closed his eyes and accessed his implants. He opened his inbox and checked the new mail. There was a personal message but the keys were there at the top. He clicked on them and felt his lips pucker in a whistle.

  “What?”

  “Keys indeed. Engineering keys. Just what we need to fix Rolling Thunder,” he said with a grin as he opened his eyes.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. With these we can get Ilmarinen to make what we need in a snap. Once we get her the material I mean,” he said.

  “Huh. I wonder how they did that?” the commander asked just as the chief scrolled down to check the other email he'd gotten. His eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

  “Well, I might know …”

  Chapter 44

  Bek B

  Captain Ray Houser brought word of Fourth Fleet's defection to Bek B's command team.

  “Well, if they left, where the hell did they go? They should have gotten here by now, right?” Commodore Diao Yashido asked. He shook his head. “You are saying this happened what, five weeks ago?”

  “Closer to four. And no, it's too soon. But, here is the kicker; their last reported course was not to us. That's what the media is saying,” The Neoorangutan said as he passed them a tablet with the report on it. A second tablet remained in front of him.

  “Yeah, I see what you are saying,” Commodore Brunswick said slowly as he examined the report with the others. “Which makes me wonder where they went if not here. It's not like they have a lot of options to choose from,” he rumbled.

  “Agreed,” Admiral Sharp Reflexes stated. Where are we with any other intelligence?”

  “We know that with Fourth Fleet gone they have lost most of their picket force and a third of their forces. The forces they can deploy I mean. They still have hundreds of ships in mothballs.”

  “But no crew for them, nor any budget to get them into space.”

  “They can still fly them with a skeleton crew in an emergency. And remember, they can still pick those ships apart for materials to keep the fleet they have in service flying,” Commodore Brunswick stated.

  Diao winced. “I hadn't actually thought of that,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, well, I did. I considered doing the same here with the ships we've got mothballed, but it would be a pain. First, the parts aren't up to our new standards, and second, they'd have to be replaced when we brought those ships back online after a refit.”

  “Ah.”

  “What about general morale in the fleet? Anything there?” Commodore Fournier asked, turning to his chief of staff.

  Ray shrugged. “I can't tell you anything direct unfortunately. Everything we've got is from unnamed sources talking to the media.” He shared a thin smile with the group over that line. “I can tell you that based on second and third hand information, morale is in the crapper and still looking to stay that way—not that the powers that be seem to care.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Another thing,” the ape said, glancing down at his tablet. “There are unconfirmed reports of training going on in some of the units most loyal to Childress—electronic training, computer sims. Wanna guess who the op force is?”

  “Us,” Diao said.

  “Us and the Federation,” the captain replied with a nod.

  “Are you serious?” Commodore Brunswick demanded eyes wide in surprise.

  “Yes. That's adding to the crappy morale factor.”

  “I'll bet,” Admiral Nilsson said dryly.

  “They don't have the budget to train in a real-world exercise? If that is true, can't we just walk in and take over?” Commodore Fournier demanded.

  “It's not that simple,” Diao said. All eyes turned to him. “Even though they aren't doing real-world exercises and live fire, it doesn't mean the ships aren't powered up and fueled. Every ship is. They also have their full complement of munitions, quite possibly from stripping the reserves as Commodore Brunswick just suggested,” he said, indicating the bear among them. The bear nodded once. “Orders are not to use fuel or resources. But in a pinch, I bet they will out of self-defense.”

  “Yes, look what happened to you,” Admiral Nilsson pointed out.

  “Yeah, that's still a sore spot,” the commodore replied with a wince.

  “Yes, it is,” Admiral Nilsson said, eyeing him severely before she turned to Admiral Sharp Reflexes. “I think the previous intelligence presents us with an opportunity and a dilemma, sir,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “If it is true, then as Commodore Fournier pointed out, their border is unguarded.”

  “We can't go over and pounce though,” Ray protested.

  Admiral Nilsson shook her head. “Not my intention. Well, it is and it isn't.” She turned back to the T'clock. “What I'm suggesting is we raid. Hit their outer border, pick apart their depots and then nip back over here. That way we get the supplies and they don't. We have a picket set up to watch for that sort of thing and all of our depots are safely deeper in the component star system. They've got them scattered. And, thanks to our databases, we know where they are and what is in each.”

  “Outstanding,” Diao replied, eyes bright and eager for action.

  “Unless Fourth Fleet's disappearance is a trap,” Admiral Sharp Reflexes stated. That made the commodore and rear admiral stop and stare at him in surprise. “Think about it,” the bug buzzed. “Have the ships lay in stealth. Float rumors of their defection and then wait. We come over, we're the aggressors, and Fourth fleet pounces. We get a portion of our forces chewed up or forced to surrender, thus reducing our forces here. They get the positive spin with the press to boot.”

  “Not good,” Admiral Nilsson murmured.

  “Exactly. We need to know where Admiral Champion took her people.”

  “She's apolitical, sir,” Commodore Fournier pointed out.

  “You know her?” the bug asked, turning to her.

  The commodore nodded. “I served with her briefly. She's not in the habit of telling people what her intentions are. In this case, I think it is wise. Had she let anything slip, ONI would have been all over her.”

  “I know that for a fact,” Diao muttered darkly.

  “Whatever she did, she did it without asking if she wasn't ordered to go dark. She'd do it, and I know her people would follow her.”

  “Given that morale is in the state it is in, I wouldn't put it past a lot of people. But an entire fleet? Surely there has to be a few who disagree!” Ray protested.

  “Yes, but orders from a superior officer apply. They've been drilled with that. Fourth Fleet is like us; they
aren't a political unit. They've got what, half the ships left?” Commodore Fournier asked, turning to Diao.

  “About that, yes. I can tell you they had the fewest resignations. I think some thought of that as a good thing.”

  “Knowing Omar, he probably did. But they may not have resigned because they felt their duty was to their people not necessarily to him.”

  “This is all speculation unfortunately,” Admiral Sharp Reflexes stated. “Write up what you have. I'll look over it.” He turned to Admiral Nilsson. “Write up your proposal as well. No destruction of naval property or personnel. To do it you'd need to hit hard and fast in multiple places.”

  “It will most likely only work once. Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod.

  “I want a series of plans including a GOTH plan. Pick the best targets. I want you to avoid any contact with fleet ships. You've got two days to get a plan together.”

  “ROE?”

  “The same. Fire only if fired upon or severely threatened,” the bug said, wiggling his antenna at Diao.

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  @^@

  A week later, they got their answer. Half of Fourth Fleet showed up on the scanners of Commodore Perot's picket. Within a day, they had answering hails from Fourth Fleet. Two days after that they had arrived at the picket and had passed inward to Bek B. Most of the ships were screening units according to their report.

  Admiral Sharp Reflexes played a video that had been passed on to him. “Admiral Sharp Reflexes, I realize too late I should have stood with you. But, they say some things are never too late,” the woman said. “So, I have acted to rectify my previous mistake. I don't do this lightly; I know the stakes are high.”

  “I am sending you my light units since they don't have the staying power for what I'm planning to do. I am going to take my remaining forces and stand off the jump point. If possible, I will defend any starship that comes in. If that isn't needed, I will see if we can alert them of what is going on, and if not, I'll see if we can sneak around Second Fleet and the shell to intercept the ship that way.”

  “She won't be able to stay there forever. She's kept her supply ships with her, but they can't run dormant forever,” Commodore Fournier said.