Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (35 page)

“I know that. I wanted to let you know
Hachimaze
and
Endymion
have given the all clear. We are ready to move up an octave,” she reported. “
Hachimaze
believes they can go up to beta.
Endymion
's engineers said they need a little more time to be certain.”

He turned to her then nodded. “Very well. Let Alec know to pass the order.”

“We'll have that damage report for you shortly, sir. Right now we've only got the basics as the crews work on it,” Kyle reported.

“Keep me posted,” the admiral said heavily, leaning forward on the railing as he stared out into the simulation of hyperspace. He did everything he could to project confidence but he felt something sagging within him. Not necessarily easing of tension, he knew that the battle was over, but he also knew it wasn't finished—far from it. And with his forces so beat up he wasn't certain he would be able to hold B-95a3.

And that would mean another blow. They were already suffering a blow from the retreat, a blow to their pride and confidence. Morale would most likely plummet if it hadn't already. His sucked. But … somehow or other, they'd find a way back.

Even if he had to kick and scream his way through everyone to do it. Somehow they were going to pull it off.

He just wasn't certain how at that point he realized tiredly. Not with a quarter of his firepower obliterated and the enemy holding twice as much firepower he had. Maybe three times? His tired mind tried to figure it out before he gave it up.

“I'm going to my quarters. Call me if anything changes,” he said over his shoulder.

“Aye aye, sir,” Jojo said softly as she watched her boss depart.

:::{)(}:::

Captain Renee Mayweather shook her head tiredly as she checked in with DCC. Every ship was dealing with what repairs to their battle damage that they could. Inside hyperspace each ship had to do so with only the resources within their own ship. At least the critically wounded had been placed in stasis.

She grimaced. Every warship except the carriers had taken damage to various degrees. Most of the damage had been inflicted on the battle cruisers since they had been the enemy's primary target. Which was probably a good thing, she mused. Had they attritioned the destroyers and light cruisers first then gone after the battle cruisers, it would have been harder for the ships to fend the missile volleys off, especially in the last bitter moments of their retreat.

She knew what had happened was nothing less than a setback, a serious punch to the federation. Not just to its offensive arm, but a threat to Protodon and perhaps deeper. She doubted they had enough firepower to get into Antigua, but just the threat was a nuclear weapon in its own right. It would mean the politicians and public would be scrambling for more support to protect the shipyard, which would mean less reinforcements for Admiral White.

She shook her head. It wasn't her problem though, so she focused on her own problems and especially the ones she could solve. Speed of the ships was a hindrance. They were limited to the best speed of the most damaged ships.
Shizouka's
T'clock Chief Engineer Ch'rax assured her they were clear up to Gamma band, which was good. She knew the admiral needed to squeeze as much speed as he could out of the fleet. The more time they got in B-95a3, the better they could utilize to repair their ships and plan for the juggernaut's inevitable arrival.

But that's a problem for another person and time, she reminded herself as she made a puttering sound. “Ma'am?” a rating asked.

“Nothing,” she said, waving a hand. “Carry on.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” the rating replied.

Renee frowned thoughtfully and then decided to go walk about. Mackie, her Neobear navigator, had the bridge watch and Lieutenant Commander L'ckk'clck, her XO, was chasing down some of the damage with the chief and the engineering staff. She wasn't up for a visit to sickbay. The torture in some of the eyes there would be too much pain to bear, but she could at least pass on compliments and maybe buck up some morale as she checked on her wounded ship.

:::{)(}:::

Hurranna sucked in a breath and then let it out slowly. “Well! That sucked!” she said, shaking her head.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Jane Darling said dryly. “But it's a sentiment we're all feeling I suppose,” she said. She glanced at the CAG. The question is, where do we go from here?” she asked, pitching her voice to the other woman.

Commander Wilder caught the pitch and nodded. It had been a soft ball, one she could easily field. The problem was she wasn't all that great at rousing speeches. She paused at the table then went over to the lectern and stood in front of it, leaning against it. “Look people, I'm going to tell it to you straight. Obviously we got our asses reamed. Trying to sugar coat it isn't going to make it go down any easier for us or anyone else. So, now that we've faced facts, we can do a couple of things,” she said smiling dyspeptically.

“One, we can play ostrich. That's the old Earth bird that supposedly buried its head in the ground. Ignore it, hope they go away. Obviously that sets our ass up for another reaming,” she said darkly.

“I don't know about you, Skip, but my touch hole is about as wide as it's going to get,” a pilot said tiredly. He made a show of squirming.

“I'd say that's a personal problem, but …,” the CAG shrugged as her lips quivered. “Tell doc to get you some hemorrhoid meds and then have Jamey back off for a while or at least lube it more beforehand,” she said.

That broke the group up into startled guffaws and chortles of laughter. And since the raunchy joke had come from the CAG who rarely ever went that low, it broke them out of their funk for just a brief moment.

She smiled sweetly at Mace, made a kissy face which got a few of the girls snickering, then waved a hand. “Squadrons are going to be reformed. People will be missed. Service is to be held tomorrow morning at 0900 sharp. Be there. Memorial afterward. After that, we need to get down on what worked, what didn't, and what we learned. As pilots we're stuck in our own heads for the next couple weeks until we get out of hyper.”

She paused and surveyed the group. “And I know you are all aching for some payback,” she growled, eyes cold. That made them stiffen to attention. They stared at her intently. “I can't make promises, you know that. I can tell you this,” she said with one finger upraised. “We will bite back. The next time, or the one after, we'll role with the punches, get back on our feet, then come back swinging. They caught us off guard with this sucker punch. Fine, they got the first lick in. We're going for the KO people, remember that,” she said, voice dropping into an icy whisper.

Jane like the rest of the group growled in agreement, nodding. After a moment someone in the back began to clap and others joined in, either clapping or signaling their applause by other means.

Commander Wilder nodded grimly and stood there, for a moment. When she judged they were about done, she snapped her fingers. The applause ended abruptly.

“Good. Now let's get to work. We've got a lot of homework to do. First up, we need to make sure all the birds are flight worthy again. That means going over every one of them with a fine-tooth comb. The maintenance chiefs are already getting a head start, but I expect all of you to help as well. Second, we need each squadron to break down into work groups and go over every engagement we were just in. Be prepared to talk about it Tuesday. I'm giving you that time since I'm pretty sure some of you are going to get hammered after the service tomorrow,” she said.

There were a few nods or grunts.

“Fine. Get it out of your system. Be prepared to be flight worthy Tuesday after we have the usual round of PT.” That earned a groan. She smiled ferally. “Can't have you getting flabby,” she replied. “Now, Jane,” she turned to look at the squadron commander, then turned to Hurranna. “And Hurranna, I know you two worked on your reports, and I've read them. Go over them with your pilots again; fill in any blanks. INTEL teams will be coming to pick apart your reports and see if we can tease any little bit we can out of them to use later.” She tapped her head. “Remember, no detail is too small; don't overlook them. Take your time; parse it all out. Review your notes and video; I know some of you used your implants and gun cameras to make copies. Fine. Go over them in your spare time and pick it all apart. Don't focus on what you did wrong; that's my job.” She smiled slightly again. “Focus on what we can learn.”

Jane nodded. Hurranna nodded a beat later.

“Fine then,” Commander Wilder said. “Let's get to it, shall we?”

:::{)(}:::

Amadeus sipped his coffee as he ran the numbers again. His Second Fleet had been mauled, but they were making the best repairs and assessments they could while in hyperspace. Once they were out in subspace, they would make additional repairs. For the moment though, speed was of the essence so all of the repairs were focused on the hyperdrive, shields, frame, and sensors.

He frowned thoughtfully. They'd squeezed the fleet up to the high octaves of Baker, but
Quenor
wasn't going to be able to get much more than the low octaves of Gamma band by the end of the run, which was a problem.

“Are you still going to go through with it, sir?” Kyle asked, eying him.

“Yes,” the admiral said. “Unless something changes at the last minute and I doubt it will.”

His OPS officer nodded grimly in understanding. Even if something came up there was nothing the other ships could do to help. The injured ship would have to translate down to subspace with or without a consort, then make what repairs they could there, or in a worst case scenario, pull the crew off and abandon the ship.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that he thought.

“Sir, the last assessment transmissions are in. They are being processed by the fleet train now,” Jojo reported.

“Very well,” the admiral stated. “Order
Kittyhawk
and the fleet train to follow the plan,” he said as he took another sip of his coffee.

Jojo nodded. She turned slightly and placed a hand over her ear as she murmured the order into her implant feed to the flag bridge. From there it would be transmitted to the other ships.

He'd planned from the moment they got into hyper to do this, he reminded himself. Not that it made the abandonment feelings go away. They were irrational he knew, but everyone drew comfort and support from groups, especially after the drubbing they'd just endured. But he had to think of the big picture and of the future.

Once the last of the assessments had been transmitted, his orders sent the fleet train, carriers, and undamaged ships ahead at their best speed. As he watched the plot, the group started transitioning up the octaves. Within a minute they were gone from the plot.

They had orders to resupply and make what repairs they could once they were in B-95a3. They also had orders to pull the picket in and to transfer the limited number of fighters from the picket ships to the carriers. The light cruisers only carried a squadron of fighters between them; a drop in the bucket for four carriers but every little bit helped. And while they waited for his or potentially the enemy's arrival, the CAGs could do something about bringing them up to carrier standards and integrating them into their chain of command.

Hopefully, there would be other ships there and no ships in transit. He closed his brown eyes briefly in pain at that thought before he opened them again. He stared unseen as he ran through the schedule. Based on the last schedule update they'd gotten, there were ships in transit, but they shouldn't get beyond B-95a3 before they arrived.

Hopefully.

The assessment transmissions from the wounded ships had gone out to the fleet train to help them repair for their arrival. That way the logistics ships could make custom ship packets for each ship's need in advance and have them ready to transfer the moment the rest of his fleet arrived in the star system. Also, the factory ship could begin producing components on a triage basis for the damaged ships. It wouldn't get any of them into what he'd consider fighting trim, but it could make the difference in the next engagement … or at least in any other running pursuits they would have to endure he thought.

He scowled bleakly as another reminding thought surfaced within his mind. He'd also ordered the ships to flee if the enemy arrived there first. But they could deploy the missile pods he'd hoarded. If the enemy showed, they were to fire the missile pods on the run and get the hell out of dodge.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly as Garfield got ready for his dog and pony show. It was a hot wash they all knew; they would pick apart the engagement over and over in the next several weeks as they moved through hyper. They'd be heartily sick of it all by the time they exited, but hopefully they'd tease out everything they could learn from the engagement and have plans in place for the next one.

And there would be a next one; he knew that. The enemy had shot off a lot of missiles … undoubtedly the orange Neocat had some rough numbers to go with his admiral's general assessment. But, they had their own fleet train riding herd on them. If they didn't back down …

“Almost ready, sir,” Garfield said as he finished uploading the files.