Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (41 page)

The captain shrugged. “It's the price of doing business. Our business is killing people like them. Let's get to it,” he said. He didn't like how the enemy had reportedly hacked the Horathian ships. They'd have to do something about that. The missile pods he was pretty sure they could handle. After all, there were only so many missile pods the enemy destroyers could tow. And only so many they could fire with their fire control, certainly not enough to saturate both BC's defenses at the same time!

Her eyes gleamed briefly and then she nodded. “Let's get our people and get to it then.”

---<>---<>---

Earl Gumel snarled as he watched the ships depart. To be so close to such power yet denied it … he clenched his fists. If he wasn't careful, all of this bottled rage was going to cause him difficulty. It had to find an outlet, and soon, working out and boxing in the ship's underground fighter club wasn't enough. He'd damn near killed that last rating; he
had
to be more careful! He couldn't afford to get into any more trouble than he already was in.

His eyes cut to the departing ships. His lips curled exposing his teeth in a snarl. “One day,” he murmured. “One day,” he vowed louder, shaking in rage.

---<>---<>---

“I don't like this hacking thing. Captain Post is right. We need to eliminate that as a threat,” Commander Esenly stated in a briefing with the senior staff before the jump. She turned to the communication's officer.

Brian waved a hand. “I don't like it any more than you do, China, but it's going to be tricky to figure out a way to scrub the communications while keeping our ears out.”

“Unless we cut that,” the captain said. All eyes turned to her. “We can cut our communications. Physically cut it if it comes to that. In fact,” she looked thoughtful for a moment then turned her eyes on the Lieutenant Lotor and Lieutenant Commander Theiler. “I want you two to cut our communication's computers out of the mainframe network.” Brian sucked in a protesting breath, but she held up a hand. “A physical firewall is the only way to be sure. We're also going to need to institute some sort of protocol on dealing with hack attempts. A way to reboot those systems effected. Look into that,” she said, turning her eyes from him to the chief engineer. Both men nodded.

“I also want you to look into using whisker lasers to communicate. When we're in tight, it should work nicely,” she said. Both men nodded.

“Ma'am, what is the plan for the picket in B-95a3?” Brian asked.

“Don't worry about that, we've got it covered,” Commander Esenly said with a smirk. He looked to her and then to the captain. He saw the identical expression on his skipper's face. Slowly he nodded.

---<>---<>---

Twenty-three weeks later, the
Massachusetts
force jumped into the B-95a3 star system. They were aware of the picketing frigate due to their prior intelligence. Captain Post ordered his ships to go into stealth while the Courier 9913 crossed the star system towards the Nuevo Madrid jump point.

He had thought the frigate would have come off the jump point, but she didn't move from her position. Silently the force crept into the star system stalking her.

---<>---<>---

Hecate's
crew was thoroughly bored in B-95a3. They had done the duty four times despite the number of other frigates and warships in Protodon. Apparently Admiral White wanted to keep them on the post since he had trained many of the other ships in fleet drills. It wasn't fair Lieutenant Rico Riot thought as he sipped at his water. “This sucks,” Jim sighed.

“Tell me about it,” the XO said with another sigh. Captain Gruber had warned them against wishing something would happen. Now something had, the courier had arrived and they couldn't do a damn thing about it. If they tried to intercept her, they'd just waste their fuel. There was no intercept course that could get to her in time. So, they watched and waited. Waited for what was the question. Waited for the time to run out so they could go back to Protodon, stare at the planet, and then go back? Rico shook his head.

At least Ham had gotten her transfer out of the shitty detail he thought. The neochimp had been promoted to Jig and had been transferred back to Antigua to man one of the new ships coming out of the yards. Again, a bunch of ships coming out and who got the shit detail? He shook his head. His sour thoughts weren't helping the morale he reminded himself.

The XO wished they'd placed themselves more favorably in the star system, but their orders said to stay on the jump point at least until time to return to Protodon.

The long hours on duty staring at the empty star system was somewhat maddening to the crew. There were reports of ghosts on different shifts. Even the skipper had seen one last shift. It was a concern; they could be jumping at shadows, Rico worried.

“Sir, we're getting something!” Adel said.

“And that something is?”

“Ah … damn it, I lost it,” the helmswoman snarled, banging her fist.

“What was it?”

“Neutrino detection. Bearing oh niner five by mark two.”

“Positive two? Range?” Jim asked.

“No range. I just had the bearing. I was trying to get a better location when it … there it is again!”

“And it's gone again,” Jim said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Isn't there a planet on that bearing?”

“Yes …,” the helmswoman swore. “You think it's coming from the planet?”

“I don't know,” the computer tech murmured, tapping at his controls. He pulled up the video feed and overlaid the neutrino hit. He then zoomed in. Lady Luck was on his side; he immediately saw the black specks. “What the …?”

“What is it Jim?” Rico asked, voice picking up as he saw the computer tech straighten up and his voice pick up.

“It's something—black specs in front of the planet. I'm running it through the computers. We've mapped every spec of this star system.”

“Always something we've overlooked,” Rico said, now disinterested.

“Sending you the feed now, sir. You too, Adel,” Jim said, flicking a hand to send them the link.

The officer opened it and stared. “You can't get a better resolution on it?”

“No, sir. It's about … twelve million kilometers out.”

“Course?”

“I was working on that …,” the computer tech finished inputting the request. The computer immediately spat out an answer. His eyes widened. “Right for us!” he yelped, looking up in alarm.

“Get the hyperdrive up,” Rico said, rising out of his chair. “
Now
.” His thumb flipped up the protective cover, and then it stabbed down on the big red button. Immediately the lighting changed to red, and the klaxon of red alert sounded throughout the ship.

“What do we have, Rico?” the captain demanded over the intercom. They could hear him breathing so he must be on his way.

“Sir, ships are closing fast less than twelve million kilometers out,” the XO said, eyes locked on the status board. The hyperdrive was already spooling up, but the computer was going through the basic safety prestart list instead of hurrying it along.

“I need to get to engineering, sir; the computer ….”

“Go!” the skipper said from behind him as he entered the bridge at a run. He had his suit over his arm, but he was in his boxers. The XO brushed past him and rushed out the locked door to engineering.

“Adel ….”

“We're running the numbers now sir. It'll be close!” Adel said, voice rising.

“Steady. What are we talking about here? And how did they get in the star system?”

“That courier, sir,” Jim said, staring at his screens. The skipper looked over the man's shoulder as he pulled his skinsuit on. Jim had his screens split, and one was running a back course. “If the 'puter's right, they came in at the same time as that courier did.”

“They used it as a distraction,” the captain said as he shrugged the top of his suit on. He grimaced; it had been a while since they'd had a suit drill. He felt fat as he sealed up. He racked his helmet as he sat down. He left the gloves in his lap as he checked the status board. The hyperdrive stats started to shoot up like rockets. Rico must have gotten to engineering he thought just as the Veraxin navigator came scuttling in.

“About time,” the captain scolded mildly.

“Sorry, sir. Suiting up with this bioform is tricky,” the ensign stated as he took his station. “Hyperdrive is spooling up. We're jumping?”

“Yes. Get on that now. Set course for Protodon, max speed.”

“Max?”

“Just do it!” the captain snarled as Jim put a freeze frame of the enemy ships up on the main screen. All eyes cut to it. They immediately noted the formation of ships. The computer zoomed in and then smoothed the image out. It then locked onto each ship and ran a check.

“That's a battle cruiser!” Jim said, half rising out of his chair. “Two of ‘em!” he said.

“Settle down, Jim. Time?”

“Time to jump—four minutes five seconds. Time to engagement range—four minutes.”

“Shit, we're gonna die,” Jim muttered.

“Not yet. Do what you can to hurry that checklist along,” the skipper growled. “Bring us about. Max course out of their engagement basket.”

“It'll mess up my calculations,” Ensign Thr'll protested.

“Deal with it in hyper, if we can get there in one piece.”

---<>---<>---

“We missed. They'll warn them,” Captain Roznine snarled over the captain's link as the frigate dived into hyperspace. It bothered him that Captain Post had limited them to energy weapons. He could have taken the ship out with a missile broadside or at least crippled it.

“No matter. We'll catch up. Prepare your ships for jump,” Captain Post ordered. “We will see you in Protodon.”

“Good hunting all,” Captain Mueller said. Captain Roznine clenched his fist in front of the camera, then dropped it in favor of a starch salute.

Captain Post did the calculations. Based on the class of ship he estimated she would most likely top out in the mid octaves of Gamma band. If she had stayed on post for a while, her fuel would be low. And that rapid start-up probably ate into her energy reserve. He frowned thoughtfully.

His ships could also hit the mid octaves of gamma. If he timed it right, they'd get there less than a few hours behind the frigate. Its warning wouldn't matter. “You just delayed the inevitable,” he murmured.

Chapter 23

Once things were under control with Protodon and the other fronts, Admiral Irons sent a small picket and supply convoy to Senka. The mining communities there were organized loosely in small mining outposts in rocks and on a moon orbiting the gas giant. The moon base serviced the one small gas refinery in orbit of the gas giant; the idea had been picked up from stories about the admiral.

The communities were lively with
very
contentious politics. They were semi-hostile to outsiders, some subscribed that to the Irish and Scottish blood in the community. They were much like the American west with a small time mayor who usually ran the general store and bar as well as most of the other businesses in the community. Frequently there was no sheriff; justice was rough and spotty with the community acting as a lynch mob sometimes. They were disorganized, almost anarchistic, no central administration.

Commander Sprite put in a few pithy remarks when she jotted out the brief for the senior officers. “For them it works, or so they say.”

They were thick headed, stubborn, and many refused to leave the only life they have known. Many complained about it, but if an outsider agreed with them, they would get pummeled for their trouble or worse.

After getting hit so often in pirate raids, there was something the stubborn Senka miners could agree on. They put the battered ships
Io 11
had wrecked to use. Work crews cannibalized them and the other two
Apollo
class corvettes to get one corvette up and running once more. It was a patched together job, but they were justifiably pleased with themselves over it. The ship lacked a hyperdrive, but they didn't intend for her to leave their star system anyway.

According to their intelligence, militia volunteers ran the ship. They also had a second corvette as a habitat and training facility—at least until a sublight drive could be built for her to use.

During the initial discussions, their representative to
Io 11
and to the Federation had tried to discuss towing the ships back to Antigua to rebuild them. But the risky endeavor would cost as much as a new corvette to do so. Shipping parts in to them was possible over time, but Admiral Irons refused to bend. He would not turn over military parts to civilians.

When the convoy settled into the star system, it set up a small ansible station with a small fusion reactor and an ansible.
Io 11
had remained in the system to rebuild the freighter since the captain had insisted on keeping her as a prize. Some of her crew had agreed; others had objected. Those who had objected had left the ship “one way or another.”