Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (8 page)

Missile pods, weapon drones, and surveillance gear was strapped to the hulls or hanging inside the boat bays of the destroyers, ready to be kicked out on command. They'd have to do it before an engagement Amadeus reminded himself. Right now the gear was blocking some of their firing arches and sensors.

“We're ready, sir. Ready and eager,” Marshall said, clearly echoing the crew's eagerness. Just about everyone was spoiling for this fight, Amadeus thought. He nodded in approval.

“Follow the plan. Kick the first defense drones out right after jump exit. The same for the recon drones. I'll want a cap patrol the moment the surrounding fold space is safe; let the other ships know to have their fighters on alert just before exit. If the enemy saw
Hecate's
departure, they could be waiting for us,” he stated.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“And I know I've got opening night jitters,” the admiral said with a wan smile. His large lips puckered then he turned to the captain. “Jump on your order, Captain,” he stated.

“Thank you for the honor, sir.”

“Hyperdrive is spooled up and ready. We are holding steady, sir.”

“Then by all means, jump,” the captain said, waving one of his small hands. “It's time to make history and take our revenge on those who have preyed on us for so long. No longer will we be the hunted. From now on, we are the hunters.”

The bridge crew clapped as the navigator and helmsman jumped the ship into hyperspace.

Chapter 4

Prinz Zir
was a small
Mirilax
class freighter and her Horathian crew was dubious about their arrival in Nuevo Madrid. On the one hand, it was good for the spy ship to be back in home territory but a lot had changed. There was a healthy fear of being the messenger of bad news. And they'd gotten word that their drop on Epsilon Triangula had failed. That was not good for the careers of those involved.

They had been ordered to deliver the infected stasis pods to Antigua to destroy its population and eliminate any resistance in that star system. But when they had heard Admiral Irons had been on Epsilon Triangula busy restoring things and helping the population rebuild, it had been too juicy a target to pass up.

Apparently, that had been their problem; the bastard Irons had somehow taken the Xeno virus out.
Prinz Zir
had come away from the situation with the intelligence about Antigua Prime but hadn't stuck around to witness the Xeno virus go off. They had bummed around the sector picking up intelligence and then feeding it to raiders in Centennial before they'd headed in to Nuevo Madrid to refresh and pick up their next assignment.

Her captain, Commander Crenis, was ever aware that he was on thin ice when he was ordered to report to Rear Admiral Troy Frost, the naval station chief in the newly conquered star system. The blunt overweight man seemed seriously pissed about something; most likely the news the spy ship carried with them.

“I still find it hard to believe that Rico and Cartwright went down like that.” He shook his head. The captain let out a slow breath, glad the admiral was focusing on the major events instead of his screwup. “And you say you didn't get confirmation?”

Captain Crenis shook his head, thoroughly frustrated by the situation. “No.”

The admiral frowned thoughtfully and swung his girth from side to side in his chair. He picked up a glass of scotch, downed it, and then poured himself another. He didn't offer the captain a drink. After his second shot, he coughed and then set the glass down. “But it fits with what we've got from
Barnacle Bill
.”

The captain blinked in consternation. “You had another ship come in? You knew??”

The admiral shrugged, ignoring the accusing eyes. “Yes.”

“So, why didn't you say so!” The captain glared at the admiral.

“I wanted to hear your full report first. You confirmed their report, though it is vague,” he said mildly. “I don't like what you just said about Admiral Rico, however. How did they destroy his fleet?”

The captain shrugged helplessly. “I don't know.”

The admiral's eyes glared into his. He flinched. “I know you don't know; that's the problem. It is so vague! Damn it!”

“So, what do we do, sir?”

The admiral frowned thoughtfully then shook his head as if coming to an unsatisfactory decision. “Get confirmation while you take the high road to Senka.”

“To Senka? Not back to Protodon?” the captain asked, making a face. The high road was a string of seven jumps in empty systems including B-95a3, the system they had just passed through. That meant a total of eight jumps to get to Senka. They would be on fumes by the time they arrived. “We'll ….”

The chief held up a restraining hand. “Save it. I know you'll be on fumes. We'll give you extra fuel in your cargo.”

The captain opened his mouth and then closed it. If they did that, he wouldn't have any cargo when he went into Senka. No cargo meant no trade items. No trade meant no port fees or fuel.

“I know, I know, but the admiralty wants that jump line and that star system checked. According to the report from
Barnacle Bill
two of our ships, both corvettes, headed in that direction. Find out what happened to them. They should have some intel on the battle.”

“Sir, if I went south it would be seven jumps instead of eight. I'd also be passing through three of our star systems, sir. Well, Briev isn't our territory, but they are a friendly port.”

“I know, but our orders are to check that jump chain for the missing ships,” the chief said doggedly.

“And if we do that, I won't get back home. I'll have enough fuel to get to Senka and
no
fuel to get back and no cargo to trade in that system or elsewhere, sir,” the captain said almost desperate. “So I wouldn't be able to get
back
,” he insisted.

“Your problem,” the chief stated flatly. “I guess you'll have to get creative. Remember the motto: If you aren't cheating, you aren't trying hard enough. If you can't buy it, steal it,” he stated.

“But …,” when the chief just glared at him, he took a step back and took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, getting his temper under control.

“Are you refusing to follow orders?”

“No, I'll do it. I'm not sure how, but I'll get it done.”

“Good.”

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

Admiral Frost rubbed his double chin thoughtfully as he tried to game out the current problem. He needed intelligence on Antigua. He finally had enough confirmation to send a courier to Dead Drop. He wasn't certain he wanted to, but that was what his duty specified. At least it wasn't his frackup he thought.

No, but if he didn't handle it carefully it might be. It couldn't be enemy disinformation, no, not with both spy ships confirming the story. It was maddeningly vague though! He shook his massive head. He had to have more information and soon! Hopefully
Prinz Zir
would get him what he needed.

His eyes went to the departing shuttle. Crenis may not like the assignment, but he was an ass. He deserved to be punished for not taking his cargo to Antigua as his orders had specified. He was crafty enough to get in to Senka and out again. The rear admiral had specified the route to include Triang so the man could get in, get the information he needed, then back out in the shortest amount of time.

He shook his head again. That was the problem with the spy ships; they took their sweet time!
Prinz Zir
would be gone months, possibly a full year before it returned. When it returned he might see some response from home. Possibly a ship, possibly more than one. And as senior officer he planned on exercising his command authority to
take
command. That would get him out of the chair and into a real command. Who knows, if he handled it just right he would be a hero and would get what was coming to him? A promotion, a better position …. He smiled and rubbed his hands at the thought.

He was good at his job; the small but growing repair yard in orbit of the gas giant was proof of that. It wasn't large, but they had two slips and could handle small or moderate jobs. With a bit of work, he could see it growing into a full repair yard in time.

At one point he'd envisioned himself running a full yard. That was why he'd chosen engineering and transports over the combat line. Up until recently there hadn't been any upward movement in the tactical and combat tracks. Now he was regretting his career path. This event, though ill for the empire, might put him back on track … if he handled it properly.

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

“So, how did it go, sir?” Alice asked, looking at the skipper. She took his sour look in and then frowned. “That bad, huh?”

“In a word, yes,” he stated flatly as he climbed into the shuttle. “Let's get out of here. We need to get going.”

“Leave has been canceled?” Raff asked, eyes wide. “But we just got here?!”

“And now we're going,” the captain said in a commanding voice that broke no further argument. “The admiral's orders. Do you want to argue with him?”

Raff spread his hands apart and licked his lips nervously. “No, sir. Sorry, sir,” he said.

“Sir, what about the box, did he give us a pat on the back over that?” Serius asked as Alice secured the lock door.

The captain sat down and felt the small playing card deck sized box in his front pocket. “Damn it, no, I forgot to turn it over to him,” he muttered, fishing the device out. It was a pocket computer they had gotten in trade from the Gronix family—that and some rather smooth white lightening that the crew had consumed and some silver coins that had turned out to be plated not solid. “Damn …”

“Hang onto it, sir, we may need it for something or other,” Alice urged.

The captain frowned as he stared at the box in his hand. It was the one small dim bright spot on the Epsilon Triangula debacle. He was seriously tempted to return to the HQ to hand it over to the Admiral. Duty said to do so, but it wouldn't do him any good. It wouldn't get him out of their other duty, to follow orders. His fist clenched around the device.

“Sir!” Alice said, eyes wide in concern, not for him but for the computer.

“Relax Alice, I won't break it,” he said, slowly relaxing his grip. “I think you're right; we'll hang onto it. It could come in handy where we're going. The silver too.”

“Yes, sir. And the bottles?”

“I was going to have them spaced … I take it the Bosun decided otherwise? What, filling them up from the ship's still? Or did he finally crack the formula?”

Serius chuckled. Trust the skipper to know about the ship's still and the Bosun's preoccupation with recreating the Duke's family recipe. “I don't think he got anywhere, sir; he's about given up or so I heard,” he said, rubbing his nose and tugging on his ear. “I think the bottles will come in handy, minor trade item or something. Or we can fill ‘em with some watered-down moonshine or something or other,” he said as he buckled in. Alice made her way to the cockpit.

“Ah, smart. It's taking up mass and space though but not a lot,” the captain said as the shuttle bumped and then moved out.

“Are we going to get an overhaul, Skipper?” Alice asked over the VOX.

The captain frowned and then took the handset Serius handed him. He put the set on and then adjusted the microphone. “No. We're getting fuel and some spares. Get on the horn with the XO and Bosun now. I want an inventory done. We're going to need to take on a lot of fuel and supplies to make this next journey.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“And yeah, if they can find replacement parts for the number two life support module, do it. I'm tired of hearing the damn thing rattle at night,” the captain grumbled.

“Yes, sir,” the young woman replied.

The captain took the headset off, set it in his lap, and then looked at the little box again. It was possibly their only salivation and ticket home. But how to use it? A straightup trade? He doubted they'd get much for it. Alice and the engineers loved the damn thing; it was helping them out a great deal, which was why they'd been reluctant for him to turn it over. He frowned thoughtfully.

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

Captain Gumel frowned as he looked over the morning report. His head hurt, and he was in a grumpy mood. His shoulder bothered him from his morning pushups. He'd skipped the regular jog he was supposed to do; he preferred to lift weights. Doc kept warning him that he could blow a blood vessel or tear something, but he didn't care. It wasn't the exercise he preferred, but it kept him trim and it was exercise. Something better than nothing. “You know, something just occurred to me.”

“Sir?” Ensign Jz Dahl asked, turning to look at him expectantly. The mahogany skinned ensign was a bit of a bootlicker, an eager puppy. The skipper and XO occasionally kicked the kid around, but he knew better than to complain. It was all part of the system, the pecking order he thought.

“Didn't um … shit …,” he rubbed at his brow. He was notorious with names, and not a morning person. Combine the two, a lack of caffeine and a late night and it was a bad combination.