Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (105 page)

He stared when he saw the red lettering and circle around
Arkangel
. “Is this accurate?” he demanded, showing it to the tech.

“Yes, sir,” she said, leaning over to see what he was looking at.

“Damn,” he muttered. He read it again, then a third time. Lost with all hands. Adam … Adam couldn't be dead. But … if he was …

“Sir, can I have that back before PO Figgs has my ass?” she asked tentatively, breaking through his thought train.

“Um? Oh yeah,” he said, handing the tablet back.

“Lieutenant, Chief Riker wants to know if we're finished up here? He also wants us to move two compartments over and assess the damage there,” a rating said, poking his head into the compartment.

“Eh?” the Marine said, blinking as he got his brain back on the need to focus on the here and now. “Ah, yeah,” the young man said with a nod.

:::{)(}:::

“Now it's our turn,” Admiral White said as the bombers and fighters fell back. The escort carriers had been detailed to the rear to recover them. His dreadnaughts and battle cruisers moved into the outer engagement zone and bore in. “Commander Garfield, you may pass the order to the fleet. Open fire,” he said simply.

:::{)(}:::

Commander Garfield had targeted ships of opportunity in the first broadside, but he'd concentrated on destroying or crippling ships instead of spreading his fire. Thousands of missiles tore into the enemy fleet.

Thousands of counter missiles spat back defiantly to cut them down or at least try to do so. Behind them offensive missiles began to fire in return volleys.

Second Fleet had one whole precious minute to be on the offensive exclusively before her tactical departments had to split into offense and defense to handle both sides of the engagement. They used that precious time to exact a harsh revenge on the enemy fleet.

Potemkin
was a prime target since she'd been identified as the squadron flagship. The
Derfflinger
class ship was crippled and then destroyed in their first volley.
Star Warrior
was second; she was destroyed when too many missiles saturated her already weakened flank defenses and tore her apart.

Most of the already wounded ships were mauled and destroyed in the merciless pounding match. Destroyers just evaporated. The other ships couldn't handle defending them as well as themselves. Admiral De Gaulte ruthlessly ordered them to stop trying since it was exposing the surviving warships to attack. He ordered the undamaged ships to move forward.

With each warship destroyed, the Retribution Fleet's offensive and defensive fire slacked. Dangerous holes in their defenses began to appear. The admiral's flag staff barked orders to try to close the gaps they best they could. He was aware that by letting the wounded ships fall away he was destroying morale and dangerously close to losing control of his assets. It was soon going to be every ship for itself, which would turn his coordination into hash and doom the fleet.

The pair of couriers raced out from
Executioner's
shadow and ahead of the fleet with their superior speed. No longer tied to the fleet they made for deep space and then started to charge their hyperdrives. Their speed fell as the drives began to charge.

Their move sparked the other ships to try to move out as if it was all ships for themselves. Admiral De Gaulte held onto his cool and kept them in line.

“The only way to survive this is to work together. Keep it together!” he snarled.

:::{)(}:::

Captain Naomi Samuels grinned as her ship took another destroyer apart. That was her second;
Maine
was leading all the other battle cruisers, some of which hadn't scored any kills yet. They were definitely earning their spurs she thought.

“Cruiser coming up.
Justice
is closer,” tactical reported.

“Let Captain Vega know if he can't finish the job we will,” she said.

The comm rating softly repeated the statement. After a moment she looked up with a slight smirk. “He said don't be mean. Neaner neaner would have been more appropriate,” she said.

Naomi snorted. “Hey, wait a minute,” she said as she realized he was taunting her right back.

:::{)(}:::

Kyle shook his head as he ran the required damage assessment. The ships on point had to be rotated out of position and another battle cruiser division slotted in every few minutes to spread the damage. At the rate they were going, they were going to have every ship damaged before the engagement concluded.

“Each time we swap, sir, we take fire off the enemy. They are gaining ground and are charging their hyperdrives,” Kyle reported.

“Risky since they aren't on the proper heading, sir,” Alec stated.

“Risky, but they are taking it anyway since it is a chance of surviving this,” Kyle retorted, eying the navigator before he returned his attention to the skipper. “Half of our battle cruisers have sustained damage so far. We haven't lost a ship yet though,” he said.

“And the enemy?”

“They are down to fourteen effectives, sir. Sixteen including the couriers. Seven destroyers, two heavy cruisers, three BCs the two DN's, and small fry sir,” Kyle said. “All of the ships are damaged to various degrees.”

Admiral White nodded. “Continue the engagement. Let's finish this.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

:::{)(}:::

“We're out of it. This is no place for the fighters and bombers,” Commodore Trajan said from his seat on
Kittyhawk
. They could have split the First BC Squadron and mixed in Second Fleet's First BC Squadron's orphans to make two squadrons. Instead the admiral had elected to put Dwight in charge of the BCs on
Maine
while he ran the remnants of Second Fleet's BCs from
Bismark
.

Trajan snorted. He knew Harris wasn't thrilled about losing his seat on
Bismark
, but he had no call to complain. At least he
had
a flag bridge. The escort carriers weren't built for flag accommodations, let along fleet command. He had been forced to borrow Orville while most of his staff was doubled up in the ship in the wardroom or reassigned to Dwight for the time being.

“Yes, sir. We'll be on SAR duty shortly. I'm prepping the shuttles now, sir,” Orville stated.

“Good. Good to know you're on it,” the commodore replied with a nod.

:::{)(}:::

Lieutenant Commander Floyd Riker wasn't having a good day. Hell, no one in the fleet was for that matter. He'd grieve later; he knew that.
If
there was a later, he thought. Right at the moment he, like just about everyone else, wasn't so certain of their future. His problem as chief engineer was more personal in nature though. He'd eaten too much cheese again and was now paying for it. Between the cheese and the excess caffeine pills and lack of sleep, he was on the ragged edge of holding on. He'd been constipated all week; he'd thought it'd be a good thing since he wouldn't burn time on the toilet that he'd need overseeing the repairs. But that growing heavy feeling had slowed him down, then the bloating had kicked in. Then a few hours ago everything had let loose in an ass ripping shit of monumental proportions. One where you had to get up, flush, and then keep going and going and going.

But when it had ended, he'd felt relief … at first. At least three kilos lighter. At
least
. But damn sore. Then he'd had to go a second time … and then the pain had really started. It was like his ass was on fire, like someone was searing it with a hot poker. No matter how he tried to sit he couldn't get comfortable. He squirmed in his seat constantly.

Which meant the pain was a distraction. He might have thought of it as a welcome one from the disaster befalling him, his ship, and the fleet, but at the moment he needed to remain focused.

Which wasn't easy. He vowed to not eat more cheese … if he survived the damn experience. That was in doubt at the moment.

“Chief! Chief!” a frantic voice called out as the ship bucked. “The bottle on number two! It's going!”

“Damn it!” he broke out of his woolgathering, cursing under his breath as he tried to salvage something of the situation. But he instantly saw the addled reactor was past the point of getting sorted out. He flipped up the big red button and slammed his palm down onto the button. “Scram reactor two! Power room two, you've got ten seconds to clear out!” he bellowed. “Shag your asses!”

Nine seconds later locks shut hard and fast and panels exploded away from the ship. They rebounded against her weakened shield. Reactor two's core went next, ripping through plasma conduits and ODN lines as it was ejected.

:::{)(}:::

The ship bucked and then her speed dropped. “What the hell just happened?” Captain Knoll demanded. He took his eyes off the plot to the ship's readouts.

“It looks like we just lost reactor two, sir,” the XO said, fighting to keep his voice even despite the dire situation.

“Get Chief Riker to get it back!” the captain ordered.

“It’s scrammed, sir; he had to eject it. With two of our sublight drives down, we're already loosing speed and shield strength,” the XO stated.

“Damn it!” the captain snarled, clenching his teeth and fists in impotent rage. “When I get my hands on that stupid prick …”

“Worry about the enemy, sir. They'll get their hands on us sooner,” the XO warned, nodding his chin to the plot. “Enemy is two minutes outside our max energy engagement window, sir. They are overhauling us.”

Star Mauler
was crippled, her speed cut down, and her shields failing under the constant relentless pounding all of the fleet was enduring. “Comm, raise the flag,” the captain said.

“You seem to have a problem, Captain Knoll,” Admiral De Gaulte said after a moment. The captain grimaced at the rather pointed statement of the obvious.

“Yes, sir. Sir, we need time to get our energy reserves back up. We need cover,” he said.

“So does the entire fleet. You're going to provide that cover, Captain,” the admiral said, eying the other man.

“Sir?”

“You're going to fall back …,” the admiral said as the captain began to vehemently shake his head. “Get over yourself, Captain Knoll, this is for the good of the fleet,” he barked sternly.

“But, sir! We've got a prince on board!”

“Don't you think I don't know that? I've got a princess here. Mine trumps yours,” the admiral growled.

“But …”

“We can't slow down. If we do we're all dead. Do the math, Captain. Your ship has had it. Do what you can. Don't let them catch you,” the admiral said as he cut off the captain's pleading for fleet to stay with them. After a moment he cut the circuit.

The captain snarled impotently, pounding his fists into his armrests. “To hell with you then!” he finally said.

“Sir?” the XO said, eyes wide in fright.

“It looks like
Star Mauler
has no choice XO. We're the noble sacrifice,” the captain said bitterly. “Turn to fight the enemy. We'll take some of the bastards with us,” the captain snarled.

:::{)(}:::

Catherine wasn't the only one staring at the admiral as he concluded his end of the conversation with
Star Mauler
. He closed the circuit then looked up to the silent room. “Get back to work, people,” he said firmly. He rose from his chair and walked over to Catherine's station. “Hopefully, this makes the difference,” he said quietly, crossing his arms.

“If Captain Knoll is willing to play his part,” she reminded him.

“I think he will. Sampson said he always wanted to go out swinging. Here's his chance,” he said. He turned and pitched his voice to address the room at large. “As soon as
Star Mauler
engages, I want us to dump the power from our weapon mounts into the hyperdrive capacitors,” he ordered. He held up a restraining hand as Jeremy opened his mouth to protest. “Yes, yes I know it's dangerous and will do damage. So be it. We need to haul ass out of here,” he said.

Jeremy nodded. “Aye aye, sir.” After a moment he turned back to his station and began to issue orders.

“One of the hardest parts to handle with being a flag officer is knowing who is going to live and die and having to live with it. If you ever get to the point where you don't care, then you don't belong in the chair,” he said ever so softly to Catherine. She nodded dumbly as he looked at her. After a moment of studying her, he returned to his own seat.

:::{)(}:::

Battle cruisers were built tough. Dreadnaughts were built tougher. A battle cruiser was the smallest capital ship, designed to run down smaller ships and to raid star systems. Dreadnaughts were designed to hammer other ships their size or bigger. To stand the fire of ongoing combat, survive it, and destroy the enemy in the process. She was a bear against a wolf pack. A wounded bear, but still a grizzly that meant business.