Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (18 page)

It could be internal he thought, but something told him that wasn't the whole story.

When he checked the sensor feed of the nearest yard, he was stunned to see ships in the slips that were the same models as the sublight ships that were floating around the star system. He was not happy by the lack of progress. They'd done some but not enough. Clearly there was a bit of foot dragging going on. Politics might be involved; he frowned and sought out a source who might know more and might be willing to explain it to him.

Rear Admiral Melvin “Zek” Zekowitz was also a bit put out but defensive of his countrymen when Horatio laid out what he'd observed. “It's a lot to take in. A lot to process. I bet they are doing some internal work. It's incremental though, absorbing and adapting a little at a time.”

“I know. We still need to get this sorted out. We need to hit the ground running.”

The Bekian flag officer eyed him and then exhaled, making the older man cock his head and narrow his eyes at him. “Horatio, I like you and all, but remember, you are a commodore—a
new
commodore at that. You also came up from the enlisted ranks, and you never attended the academy. You are also an outsider. You don't know how things work here, where the bodies are buried, all that. Among the flag ranks here, it's a case of being a small fish in a very
big
pond,” the senior officer warned. “And small fish get eaten by bigger ones if they aren't careful. Understood?”

Horatio grimaced but then nodded.

“It could also have been something as simple as people wanting to make sure the stuff
Caroline
brought would last long term. You know, just in case she or another ship never showed up. I know the people in Nuevo were having trouble believing we'd show again.”

“Then why come with us?”

The rear admiral shrugged. “Adventure? The rapids are a huge risk, Horatio,” he pointed out. “I honestly gave our chances at surviving it less than even odds. There were a few scrapes that had me scared pissless,” he admitted.

Horatio snorted. “Me too. I've been in a few bumpy rides.” He had a faraway look on his face. “You know, I just realized something. I hadn't left Pyrax in over a century.”

“Wow,” Zek replied. “
That
long?”

“For the first what, eighty odd years, I didn't have a choice,” Horatio stated flatly. Zek blinked at him. “I was kept as a slave,” he said with a bite in his tone. Admiral Zekowitz stiffened. “Didn't read that part of the history?” he asked, raising an eyebrow upwards.

Zek shook his head. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“It's bad out there, in the outer galaxy,” Horatio admitted, waving a hand to the image of stars beyond the slowly-approaching space station. “People like us, doers, people with implants and training, we're rare. Sleepers … they sell us to the highest bidder. Engineers, well, we go for a premium. The same for medics obviously.”

Zek scowled. “I don't like it. I'm sorry you went through that. I'm surprised your implants didn't kill you.”

“They are set to go off if captivity is in the hands of oppressive people. My implants had been rekeyed to watch out for pirates or Xenos. I admit; I did have a few moments where my implants prompted me to agree to suicide. But I got past it. And,” he smiled slightly, “I'm glad I did. I was shocked to find love, have Shelby, and eventually be there when Admiral Irons showed up and saved my wrinkled ass,” he said.

“I'll take your word on that last bit,” Zek snorted. “We've got a few minutes, you mind telling me the high, or should I say low points?” he asked. “I just wished you'd brought that up earlier man! We had an entire flight …” he shook his head in disgust.

Horatio shrugged. They'd spent the better part of the voyage learning about modern engineering and how to use his implants for the admiral while Horatio had done his best to learn Bek inside and out. “No reason to bring it up really. It's in the past.”

“Well, does it tie into that nasty business I heard about Irons?” Zek asked, clearly curious.

“That came later actually. But it does tie into it sort of. See, the guy running Anvil, he set himself up as a port admiral,” he said with a grimace. “He restricted tech to himself and his cronies, and even used cloning to keep himself going.”

Zek blinked at him then got a wary look on his face. “Cloning?”

“Yes. The port admiral was a piece of shit. He … let's just … I'm not going to go into details of his crimes. But the people who set John up on Vesta used the port admiral's sordid reputation against the real deal. And no amount of showing his own implant video feeds and having witnesses step up to support him helped. And even when the bastards tried to rescind everything, it still lingered like a bad taste in everyone's mouth.”

“I see,” the admiral murmured.

“I'll show you the files so you can download and read them yourself. For the moment,” Horatio nodded his chin to the clock and then to the image of the ship slowly approaching the dock. “I think we had better get ready for any sort of reception committee, don't you?”

The admiral glanced at the image, then grimaced and nodded. “Gotcha.” He grinned like an errant boy. “And I believe that's Lieutenant Si rather impatiently trying to track me down. I bet she's looking for you too,” he said.

Horatio snorted, but then stiffened when his own implants pinged. “Bet's off. She just hit me up too.”

“Should we play hookey some more?”

“No, she'll just track our asses down and then give us one of those disgusted looks,” Horatio said with a small smile of his own.

“You'd think with all the rank we've got the two of us could handle one woman,” Zek mocked.

Horatio snorted. “Keep dreaming. It only takes one of the blasted females to have us outnumbered, surrounded, and chasing our tails. No matter the rank.”

“True,” Zek said with a chuckle as they headed to the door.

:::{)(}:::

Caroline
spent two weeks in port. During that time the crew enjoyed some downside liberty as work crews emptied out the cargo they'd brought with them and then resupplied the ship. Three days before they were scheduled to depart they were told they would be taking on additional passengers.

A decision in the Bekian admiralty had been made to send 24 middies to start the process in an exchange program, along with seven naval officers, two Commanders, three ship captains, and two flag officers. Also three naval noncoms, a single Neodog marine officer, two marine noncoms, and five civilian delegates joined them over the following two days.

“Looks like we're going to be full up. Are we still stopping at Nuevo, sir?” Lieutenant Oppenheimer asked. Of all the crew, he was the least enthused about leaving. He'd been enjoying his time in the tactical wing of the admiralty. The Neoorangutan had gotten his clock cleaned in many of the early engagements, but he'd held his own in the more complex ones. And those that involved hyperspace had been a cake walk.

He like many of the senior officers had been asked to do guest lectures at the Bek Academy. They'd done their duty on some of the evenings despite officially being on liberty. They'd even taken some time for media interviews.

It was hard for him to leave. Unfair even, he'd met a nice sheila, a female Orang who had such pretty eyes, an Aussie accent, and
wicked
fingers. His large lips couldn't help but smile slightly in fond memory.

“Our orders specify a stop. Diplomatic reasons,” Captain Perth stated.

Oppie sighed. The captain looked him over and shook his head. “I know that sound. Love problems,” he said.

“Long distance relationship, sir.”

“We'll be back to … well, B101a1 eventually,” the captain said.

“She's actually here, sir. A girl I met in a navy bar,” he said. “Bartender. She showed me the town.”

“Right,” Captain Perth drawled, finally catching on. “Well, Oppie, I'm glad you've got a girl in port. And, with any luck you'll see her again … just as soon as we get back here.”

“Yes, sir. Not soon enough in my opinion. No offense, Skipper, but can I get a transfer here?” Oppie asked suddenly.

“We're supposed to be getting personnel
out
of the nexus, not putting them
in
,” Captain Perth reminded him.

“Oh, you got it bad,” Newt drawled, shaking his head from over by the Navigation station. Oppie and the captain looked over to him. “Should we start singing the KISS song?” he teased. “What was her name again?” he asked with a grin.

“Never you mind,” Oppie mock growled, brown eyes flashing.

“Lieutenant Brock, do we have a course plotted?” the captain asked formally.

“Plotted by the Bekian harbor patrol, sir,” the navigator replied with a curt nod.

“Good. Go over that one more time before we get underway. Then get a running plot going on our jump. See if you can squeeze some speed out for our love-struck shipmate here,” he said, squeezing the Neoorangutan's shoulder briefly.

“On it,” Newt said. He waited until the captain sat down then smiled. “K … I … S … S …,” he started in a stage whisper. That earned a snicker from the bridge watch.

Oppie just shook his head at the ribbing.

Chapter 8

Admiral De Gaulte frowned as he looked at the plot before him. He was pretty much certain that they could and probably should write off Fourth Fleet and any Gather ships in the western side of the sector. He laid out his reasoning and waited, but the protests from his staff were muted and mostly pro-forma.

He shook his head. “We can't get anywhere with wishful thinking. They are gone. If they show up or get out of the area, more power to them. Good for them. But we're not going to count on them.”

“Sir?” Commander Ramichov, Princess Catherine, asked.

He shook his head again. “If they have a force in B-95a3 and pickets, we can't assume anything anymore. We cannot go by hopeful assumptions that our people got out. No. Whatever is left of Fourth Fleet has been run down or run into the other sectors … or has been obliterated. We need to focus on what we know. The
reality
, however unpalatable that sits before us.” He waved to the map. Red lights marked the known worlds of the new federation including the two gateways to the western side of the sector, Pyrax and Protodon.

“Aye aye, sir,” Catherine replied with a dutiful nod. Commander Ramichov, princess and second in line to the throne, seemed to take the announcement in stride. As his operations officer, she most likely had already drawn the same conclusions. Since she was also a princess, one could assume she had some sort of strategic training.

Only a fool would assume she hadn't had any or that it had been limited to the political arena.

“We do have a little more on our unexpected visitor, sir. It wasn't a light cruiser,” Lieutenant Commander Sedrick Lovato stated. The intelligence officer put a blurry image up on the holotable. It was tapered, a delta shape with engines in the fat rear end. It was also black; they could only infer the shape based on an overlay and some highlight glitter that her hull skin hadn't managed to dampen. The admiral stood and leaned forward, hands on the desk to support himself as he stared at the slowly rotating ship. “It's not a classic warship. CIC is rating it as a scout based on the mass readings, sir. I'm in concurrence. I believe it is a
Prowler
class, sir,” Sedrick stated.

“So, another class they have in production. And I'm guessing since the image is so blurry you couldn't get a lock?” the admiral asked.

Sedrick nodded with a grimace. “Yes. Their stealth is good; hence, the belief it was a
Prowler
. Our active sensors couldn't get a good enough lock for the passives to focus on I'm afraid. CIC based the scout ruling on the mass readings they got at emergence plus this compilation from just after her hyper emergence.”

“I see,” the admiral mused.

“I'd say they are scouting for an offensive,” Commander Berney Yashanaka said shaking his head. “I'm now wondering about the timing.”

“We definitely threw them off,” Sedrick stated.

“There is that. But I'm more concerned about the timing involved in where we're both going.”

“No way in hell we'll catch them,” Sedrick stated. The others stared at him. He shrugged. “If they have the plans and it's a new ship, my credits are on that it's stock. New means she's faster than us—much faster. She'll be long gone before we arrive in B-97A.”

“Quite probable. Unless there is a naval force there or in B-95a3 for her to hook up and warn,” the admiral mused, still staring at the image.

That simple statement made the tension in the room ratchet up a little. But only a little, they were still confident they had the big guns.

Which they did considering two of their number, including the very ship they were in, were dreadnaughts. They were the mightiest ships ever deployed on a combat mission by the empire.

“I'm curious if we can mouse trap anyone we run into. I'd like to get a piece of them. The question is how,” the admiral stated. He turned to them. “So, I want contingency plans, folks.”