Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (37 page)

For the moment, none of that mattered. For the moment his entire focus had to be on dealing with the damage, overseeing the crew, and getting the ship as squared away as possible … which wasn't easy since he was swamped with work since
Arkangel
had taken a fair amount of damage during the engagement.

The chief engineer was doing a good job of overseeing the repairs, but it was the XO's job to make sure it was on track and on schedule. Along the way he also had to deal with the usual day-to-day running of the ship while also overseeing the crew transfers and resupply. Having it all going on at once was a challenge for the prince. It reminded him of juggling a lot of balls in the air, all at the same time and trying to keep track of each of them.

Fortunately, he'd learned to multitask, something his wife had perfected in him during their honeymoon he thought before he stretched again.

“Sir, we've got the replacement bank ready. It's all plug and play. I've got two sailors stripping the burned wires now. We've ran the tests—no signs of damage or dead lines in-between.”

“Hopefully, they are labeling everything before they strip it,” the XO stated to the PO. The PO nodded. “They have enough slack?”

“On some wires, yes. Some others will be … tight,” the Petty Officer warned.

The XO grimaced. “I don't like tight. We may need to move it again, and you know what can happen trying to get the bank back in place once it's wired. Things can get tugged, ripped, or what have you. See if you can find some slack somewhere. If not,” he grimaced. “We'll either have to add a jumper or run new wire.”

“A jumper we can handle easily, sir. Rewiring would take days,” the PO said hastily.

“Then get someone to check on that. Start making patch extension wires.”

The PO nodded as he made a note. “Aye aye, sir.”

“Get on it,” the XO ordered as he returned to the work in front of him. “I'll check on their progress then go walk about to the other DCC parties in a few minutes,” he said.

“Aye aye, sir,” the PO said as he went back to his work party.

:::{)(}:::

Prince Mason Ramichov was too tired to be exhausted. He'd been slotted in various work parties to oversee grunts dealing with the damage. Some of their tasks he barely understood, but he did his best to look knowledgeable as he'd been taught. Whenever he needed to do so, he “borrowed” a petty officer and picked their brain on the sly, just to be certain he had his facts right.

Commander Yashanaka had emailed him a few hours ago with a “suggestion” that he take a transfer to the flagship or to
Star Mauler
. He knew what the chief of staff was implying, that he needed to be kept safe.

Problem was he had no intention of being on the same ship as his backstabbing bitch of a sister. She outranked him too, so that would be a humiliation he wasn't certain he'd be able to put up with for long.

Star Mauler
was … tempting though. She was close enough to the flagship and big enough to be theoretically safe. But he'd learned that term might be relative after his experience with the DCC parties and the chatter he'd overheard. The capital ships had a lot of overlooked problems, problems that could doom them under the wrong circumstances.

And being safe wasn't quite what he had in mind. It didn't look good to the public; he knew that, nor did his agreement to play it safe. And then there was a third factor.

They were going to go after the enemy; of that everyone was certain. They might run them to ground … or eventually, they might run into something too big to chew. Big enough to chew them right back. And the first targets of the return fire would naturally be the flagship and her division mate.

So, no, he didn't want to be on a target he thought, coming to a decision. Being on the unarmed transports though … that he wasn't certain of either. He'd do a bit of checking to see if he could slip into one of the other ship's companies.

“Is your work party finished clearing the wreckage, Lieutenant?” an engineer asked over the comm, startling him.

“Just about, sir. We've got one or two more loads, and then your people can move in. Do you want us to start grinding the cuts smooth in prep for your people?”

“No, I've got people for that. We've got more wreckage to move. The next compartment over took some damage as well. We've got a temporary seal so there is atmo now. Your people can get in and out. I want the wreckage triaged, then anything we can't use goes to the boat bay to be shipped out.”

“Sir?”

“To the factory ship. It needs the material to make replacements,” the engineer said patiently.

The prince nodded. “Aye, sir. Thank you for explaining it to me,” he said.

“Good. Compartment Baker two hatches over.”

“We'll get it done, sir,” the lieutenant replied dutifully. He heard a click and grimaced. Not as much as a thank you he noted. Well, he didn't sign-up for the Marines to have his ass kissed by the navy pukes.

That would come later, he thought.

:::{)(}:::

Captain Red O'Shanasae, captain of
Daring
, shook his head as his engineers continued their work. He turned when he heard a noise. He noted Commodore Eichmann enter the compartment, one hand up on the hatch combing for support as he climbed into the space. “How goes it,” the commodore asked.

“We're getting there,” the captain replied, crossing his beefy arms. The commodore frowned at the Viking. “We'll get it done, sir.”

“Do you think it will pass muster?” the commodore asked carefully.

“We'll get it done, sir. We'll continue to work on it in hyper of course. Gives the engineers plenty to do,” he said. He went over to a video screen and tapped at it. After a moment the image changed to that of an exterior camera. He frowned until he saw a work party float into frame and then out of it. He nodded. “It looks like the XO has the worst of the wreckage cleared from the exterior. Engineering reported they've gotten one of our engines back online. The other three are … iffy,” he stated. “But I know we'll get them squared away by the time we jump.”

He turned to the commodore, wondering what the man was thinking. More importantly, what the man was going to report. One of the engines had been totaled; that much was obvious to anyone with an exterior camera feed of the ship. But as long as they could keep up and fight …

The commodore nodded slowly at the silent inquiry. “I take it the … reports will reflect that?” he asked carefully. He didn't want to shift his flag; he knew and respected Red. He had enough headaches dealing with Evan's Eighth Squadron orphans such as they were.

“Aye, sir,” the captain rumbled. “Numbers and all,” he said. He stopped himself from saying numbers don't lie. He knew better. He also now knew his boss was willing to back him.

“No way am I going to go home with my tail tucked between my ass cheeks. We've got them on the run, let's finish the job,” Captain O'Shanasae growled.

Commodore Eichmann studied him and then nodded. “Agreed,” he said, clasping the captain on the shoulder briefly. He gave a squeeze then turned about. “I'll leave you to it, I'm supposed to be going over to the fleet flagship for an all-hands meeting shortly. Make sure your engineers are … careful in what they request from stores. You don't want to raise too many eyebrows,” he warned.

“Aye aye, sir,” the captain said thoughtfully. They had to find a way around that. He frowned as his eyes were drawn to the work party outside. They had scrap; everything was being pulled in with the hopes of repairing it despite the radiation danger.

His frown deepened. Could they use that in trade? A little side dealing with the foundry? Get them some parts on the down low? It might help. A little liquor might grease some wheels too. He nodded slowly. “We'll get it done, sir.”

“Good. Good,” the commodore said as he paused in the hatchway. He looked back to the captain then left without a further word.

:::{)(}:::

“I'm going to lay it out to you now while we've got the time,” he said eying his flag staff as well as the two subordinate flag officers. Rear Admiral Adkins was a firebrand while Commodore Eichmann was a walking tactical computer, cold and calculating. He grimaced. “First off, we'll have the service later,” he said.

Berney nodded. “But that's for later,” he said, eying Berney. “I think the dead can forgive our preoccupation with what needs to be done,” he said. Berney nodded.

“That being said,” Admiral De Gaulte said, “We're going to strip out all of the munitions from the fleet train. Even with everything they are carrying, it only brings us up to 94 percent load out on all the ships,” he said.

He left out that he meant all the ships that he intended to take with him. “I'm going to be sending a courier back to Dead Drop with a full report by the end of the day. They can get running updates from us as we progress with repairs,” he said. Again his chief of staff nodded visibly. “They'll have orders to translate at their best speed to Dead Drop and from there dump it into their system and to the next courier to get it back to the empire in a timely manner,” he said.

Catherine hid a grimace. There was no guarantee there would be a courier in Dead Drop … or Garth for that matter. “If there isn't a courier,” the admiral said, making her twitch at the idea of his reading her thoughts, “they'll have supplemental orders to go on to Garth and then back. I'm giving them a window to hit B-95a3,” he said.

Admiral Adkin straightened up. “So we are going in,” he said, eyes gleaming.

“Yes,” the admiral stated, looking over to Vale. “But not until we've settled a few things here,” he said. Vale stiffened.

“The courier will also carry orders to forward any ships to me in good condition with fresh supplies of men, ordinance, fighters, bombers, and material,” he stated. “If they know what is good for them, they'll do it fast,” he growled.

“Once we've drained the munitions and tenders, I intend to turn them around and return them to Dead Drop at their best speed. They are to resupply there and meet up with us in B-95a3. This does two things. It strips them of us, yes, so we don't have to deal with their slower speed or protect them.”

“And it will get us the supplies we need all the sooner,” Commodore Eichmann said.

“Exactly,” Admiral De Gaulte stated. “I'm also sending the ships that are too damaged to continue further.”

He saw Commodore Eichmann stiffen ever so slightly. He was well aware that
Daring's
skipper was fudging the reports. He had no intention of calling him out on it because he knew Red. He also knew Red would do everything in his power to get his ship as squared away the best he could, given the time, material, and circumstances.

“Brawler
and
Coup de Main
will head back at their best speed,” Admiral De Gaulte said. “Before they leave I intend to strip the crew down to a skeleton watch along with all of their ordinance and materials. Then we'll stuff any wounded we can in them.”

“Getting them out of the line of fire? Not on the fleet train though, Admiral?” Admiral Adkin asked.

The admiral shook his head. “The tenders and munitions ship lacks the life support and medical facilities necessary to keep them alive. We can send walking wounded with a corpsman or two that way though.”

“Are the ships remaining in Dead Drop, sir?” Sedrick asked.

“Yes. They will do their best to make good on their repairs with the reactivated yard modules there. They can do the final assessment and send them back to Garth or the home yards if necessary. Something tells me they'll keep them in Dead Drop given the need to protect the star system,” he said.

“What about the fleet train's security, sir? If an enemy ship gets in behind us …,” Catherine grimaced.

“I'm not sending the whole fleet train back, just the empty ships. I'm detailing
Battle of Samar
and
Thresher
to ride herd on them. They can make what repairs they can while in transit both ways,” he said. He left unsaid that he'd passed on orders to have either ship swapped out with a healthier ship in Dead Drop if possible.

“We'll keep three couriers, the factory ship, and marine transports with us,” the admiral said. “Though most of the marines have been pressed into DCC parties and to fill in the ranks where needed I understand,” the admiral said, pursing his lips, “including your brother, Commander. He's done a commendable job given his limited training,” the admiral said, nodding to Catherine.

Catherine nodded once.

“Something tells me we're not going to be invading any planets anytime soon,” Commodore Eichmann said dryly.

“No, sir.” Sedrick grimaced as he glanced at the other staff members. When no one said anything, he cleared his throat. “Sir, shouldn't we be getting underway soon? To catch them?”

Admiral De Gaulte snorted. “An animal is most dangerous when injured and cornered. Besides, our engineers have stated we can't.”

“Sir?”

“We can't catch them in hyper. Catching that
Prowler
was blind luck.”