Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (101 page)

He frowned as Myron set up another scenario. The contingency planning was whiling away the time but making him nervous as well.

:::{)(}:::

Catherine shook her head. She wasn't certain what the admiral was thinking. That was bad; they were out of sync. His plan to go back to Protodon … it didn't bode well for their future relationship she knew. He should have brought the staff on board. But he hadn't and now they had to deal with it.

If he was thinking they could ambush the enemy as they came out of hyper, why didn't he say something? She was aware that the other flag officers and even some of the ship captains were muttering.

She was also aware that he was pushing CIC hard to check the star system. Every nook and cranny was being probed for hidden ships. It was making a lot of people nervous and jumpy.

:::{)(}:::

After four days of being in the star system with nary a peep, Admiral De Gaulte was certain that no ambushes lurked in the star system. He ordered Jeremy to set the fleet on a least-time course to the B-97A jump point. It was risky. He knew the enemy would anticipate it, but the sooner they got out of the star system, the better. For all he knew, the ambush could come at any moment, either in the current star system or B-97A, or any one of the systems between here and Dead Drop the admiral mused darkly. The enemy's speed advantage in hyper as well as sublight could not be underestimated, he reminded himself darkly.

He'd been tempted to follow protocol and take a random zig zag course to avoid easy interception. He judged time and fuel was not on his side however, so he took the risk to get out of the star system as quickly as possible.

He considered sending a courier or scout ahead but decided it would be a waste of effort. Once the course was plotted, he made certain Jeremy's contingency courses were also loaded and kept up-to-date so they had plenty of avenues to retreat if necessary. Each of them were programmed as contingency plans and kept up-to-date every hour as they came about and got under way.

The first two were evasion plans in case the enemy was in stealth in front of them or on a flank. They would pitch high or low to evade depending on the given situation.
Nimitz
had Eyes craft out on point and on the fleet's flanks, ever watchful of the enemy.

The third evasive course was a slingshot to Nuevo Madrid. It was the third least-optimal course of action. The last two were a reciprocation course back to Protodon via a slingshot or a slingshot that sent them to be B94e1 star system. That line would eventually lead them to either Senka or to the Pi sector. Both avenues of escape were risky in those cases. He didn't like either one, but he had to keep them open however unviable they were. Jumping to Senka or Protodon would be something of a GOTH plan in his estimation now that he knew how damaged his fleet truly was. It would be a case of fighting and ultimately dying. But if it came to that, he'd do his best to drive his fleet as deep as he could into the enemy's territory to do as much damage as possible before he went down.

The fleet crossed the star system warily. He was well aware that the retreat was hammering the morale, but he didn't have a fix for it other than by keeping everyone so busy they couldn't dwell on things. Some were running scared, that he knew all too well. He couldn't help that attitude. Kicking his people when they were down to vent his spleen over the situation and to get them motivated wasn't going to help. It'd make him feel better … for a while.

“Sir, we've got drives detected,” a rating said, breaking through his woolgathering. That announcement made everyone on the flag bridge come to alert.

The admiral looked from the rating to the plot. Icons had appeared on the plot. As he stared at them, they doubled and then doubled again into four signals. “Course and speed are accurate?” he asked, glancing to the rating.

“Yes, sir, but they are tentative. They
just
got moving now, sir. Their drives and neutrinos just came up to the point where we could detect them.”

“How did we miss them for so long?” Myron demanded. “Did they just jump in?” the tactical officer demanded.

The rating shook her head vehemently no. “No, sir. They were just sitting there with their drives and power plants down,” the rating said helplessly. She tried to look him in the eye but thought better of it when her section chief glared in her direction. She returned her attention to her screens.

“And they are too far out to get a good fix?” the tactical officer demanded. He went across the compartment and stood behind the rating, staring over her shoulder. “You're seriously telling me not one person saw them until now?” From the searing red skin of the tactical officer, it looked like he was ready to bite someone's head off it seemed.

“No, sir. Their stealth is that good,” the rating said.

“So it would appear,” the admiral said dryly. “Or our sensors aren't up to full par,” he said under his breath. Or a bit of both he thought.

“They are definitely unknown ships, sir. We can't get a read on them. They are blacked out; mass readings put them near a cruiser or capital ship range,” the CIC CPO said, clearly frustrated. “They knew we were here, sir. They are using ECM to scramble out long-range sensors. That we got them at all was luck I suppose,” he said.

“We should run them down,” Myron growled. “Split the fastest ships off. Pin them so the rest of the fleet can catch up, then tear them apart.”

“We don't know what they are. Cruisers, battle cruisers?” Berney said dubiously.

“If they are BCs, why are they running? That would have to mean the rest of the enemy fleet is here. But why expose just them?” the tactical officer demanded.

“Decoys? Get us to chase them into a trap?”

“No, mass and drive is consistent,” the CPO stated.

“No. We're not going after them,” Admiral De Gaulte said. He saw the disappointment. He shook his head. “No.”

“Sir, we can do this. We can tear them apart. The battle cruisers have the fire power and speed …”

Admiral De Gaulte grimaced. “I thought it over. The answer is still no,” he said flatly.

“Sir, it's something. To come back with a minor win …,” Myron pleaded. “Captures …”

“Why the hell did he have them do that? Go on a course like that …. Is there
another
fleet in Senka?” Berney asked.

“I don't know. The way Lady Luck's blessings are blowing, I wouldn't put it past them at this point,” the Admiral said in disgust.

“More likely they are avoiding us,” Catherine stated.

“We can't intercept them, can we?” Myron asked hopefully. Jeremy shook his head. Myron looked disgusted. “Thought not.”

“The bombers might if we launched them now,” Jeremy said. “But we'd have to come about to recover them or it would be a one-way trip,” he said.

“We don't know what we're chasing. They aren't … are they warships?” the admiral demanded, turning to Catherine and then to Myron. “Check with CIC. I want an ID on them.”

“Sir?” Catherine asked, clearly unsure of what he was thinking.

“I'm hoping there isn't another damn fleet ahead of us,” the admiral growled.

The tactical officer sucked in a surprised breath and then let it out slowly. “Oh, that'd suck,” Myron said as Sedrick sucked in a protesting breath of his own. “Damn, that'd so suck. If he comes up our ass while they block us, we'd be like a bug between glass panes, sir. A classic pincer,” he said.

“Hammer and Anvil,” Catherine replied with a nod. She grimaced as she read the report from CIC. “Sir, CIC isn't confident of the ship type other than mass and speed. They are running at the wrong angle for us to get a good enough look with our lateral sensors,” she stated.

“Damn it,” Myron muttered.

“So, they could be anything from a couple divisions of warships returning from a raid to a quartet of tenders supplying someone … it's not civilian traffic,” the admiral said questioningly. Catherine shook her head. “How does CIC know? And how confident are they?” he demanded, eying her before he turned his attention to the rating who filtered the reports from CIC.

“The speed and drive quality is military grade,” Catherine reported. “They are confident of that and that they aren't ours, sir,” she said.

“I didn't think they were ours. Not with that speed and not avoiding us,” the admiral drawled. “Ping them anyway,” he ordered. “See if they are ours. I doubt it though.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“But we're not going to go after them?” Myron asked.

“No. The answer is no. I don't know when White will be coming in behind us. He's going to do so eventually, especially now that he's been reinforced. Once he gets word we're here, he'll jump for here to follow. We don't have the time to burn chasing them. They can evade too easily. No.”

“How …,” Berney scowled. “Sir, how do you know he'll know?”

“Remember the pickets we tangled with earlier? Undoubtedly they are still here,” he said in dust dry tones. He's got at least one spy picketing this star system. He has to. It's what I'd do,” he said.

Berney frowned but then nodded.

:::{)(}:::

Halfway across star system, Admiral De Gaulte's supposition that there was a picket in the star system was confirmed when a ship's hyperdrive charge was detected at the jump point in their rear. After a half hour the ship jumped to Protodon.

The battered fleet watched in impotent anger as the ship jumped. Their rage turned on the four ships doing their best to avoid them, but again the fleet was impotent to do anything about them. Some of the aggravation turned inward. The officers did their best to focus it on repairing the fleet. A day later the four unknown ships jumped for the B94e1 star system.

Chapter 43

A day out from her departure
Shepard
met up with Second Fleet in hyperspace. Second Fleet had arrived a few days in advance of the Horathian Fleet. They'd hid in hyperspace until the enemy had passed by. It had been easier than trying to hide the ships in real space without stealth.

It had been risky, and the timing had to go well. So far so good, Amadeus thought. He'd been tempted to run an ambush, but the enemy's ability to jump short had made him think of a different plan. Besides, due to the need for speed he'd left most of his fleet train and his missile pods behind. Once committed to his plan he'd stuck to it, only modifying the plan on the fly slightly.

The mine layers had carried orders to
Shepard
to bring him the news, which
Shepard
had just done.

White ordered the fleet to reposition then jump in as close to the inner edge of the jump point as possible to cut down the lead. “We need to run them down. More importantly, we need to keep their eyes on us.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Garfield replied with a nod.

“Are you up for it, Alec?” the admiral asked, eying the navigator to judge his confidence level.

“We'll get it done, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a confirming nod. He turned back to his station and began issuing orders to the fleet's navigators.

The admiral watched him work for a while then nodded and turned to the tactical officer. “We're going to have plenty of time before we go to battle stations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All ships are ready, sir,” Kyle reported. Alec looked up and gave them a thumbs up.

“Very well,” the Neochimp flag officer said, settling himself in his chair. “Take us in.”

:::{)(}:::

The admiral and his staff were woken when an alert went off. They rushed to battle stations with the rest of the crew. The battle alert was immediately downgraded to yellow alert so the admiral switched from pulling his skinsuit out and on to getting dressed. He was tired though so his movements were more methodical. He reached down and stabbed a key on his end table. After a moment a communication's channel linking his room to the bridge came online. “SITREP?” the admiral demanded as he got dressed.

“It's an enemy fleet, sir,” Captain Couglin reported. “They just jumped in behind us,” he said dubiously. “We're looking at twelve; make that fourteen large mass signatures, with dozens of others of various sizes. CIC is still picking them out.”

“The DNs no doubt. Fourteen though?” the admiral demanded as he got dressed. “We only saw six. That's a dozen battle cruisers.”

“They can't spoof that in a hyper emergence, sir. And those numbers are tentative, sir,”
Executioner's
ship captain stated in warning. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, tentative. Make that
eighteen
capital ship signatures, sir,” he said.

“Where the hell did he get them?”

“They might have been waiting in stealth in Protodon the whole time we were there, sir,” Chase stated in disgust. “Why, I have no clue. But it's possible I suppose, sir,” he said.

The admiral paused and looked up as he considered his flag captain's suggestion. His steward came in with his cleaned shoes and knelt to help him get them on. “True,” the admiral said as he lifted his foot so the steward could help him get his shoes on. He continued to button his uniform blouse. “Get CIC to give us a better look at that fleet. Coordinate with the other ships and keep me posted. I'll be on the bridge shortly.”