Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (48 page)

Engineers like Chief Riker also did their best to utilize the time for internal repairs. They were stuck with only what they had in stock and couldn't make external repairs or calibrations while the ship was under way in hyperspace. Few of the ships had access to a replicator. The two dreadnaughts
Star Mauler
and
Executioner
each had a small class one industrial replicator to go with the three food replicators they had on board.

It meant the two ships had a slight edge on repairs over the other ships … not that they needed it since neither had suffered battle damage during the last engagement.

Chief Riker did his best to keep his people moving. Work parties diligently stripped paint from structural members and checked for cracks with ultrasonic and x ray equipment. Existing patched cracks were checked regularly and carefully measured down to nanometers to look for signs of movement or spreading.

:::{)(}:::

Ma Deuce
brought Admiral von Berk's captives to Dead Drop in an explosion of light and soundless thunder. Her arrival startled the picket force situated around the B-97C jump point.
Ma Deuce's
skipper immediately ordered their IFF to be broadcast in order to allay their fears.

It took two days to cross the star system to arrive in orbit over Dead Drop itself. During that time Admiral von Berk and his staff spent a great deal of time catching up on current events they had missed … and negotiating to get another ship.

“I'm still in awe that the emperor launched a fleet to oppose this federation,” Commander Rick Roshou, the admiral's chief of staff stated.

“Well, someone has to damn it. The question is, do they have enough to do the job?” Major Eichmann asked.

“I'm not sure,” Admiral von Berk drawled slowly. He hadn't reacted well to the news of the passing of the Retribution Fleet. Such a plum assignment going to someone else—and after his own Fourth Fleet getting torn apart in their rush across the federation as they tried to escape their nets—it burned. He'd wanted that; he'd wanted to extract some measure of revenge.

But he had more important duties, like shepherding the sea dwellers in to the empire proper and all the data that his ships and people had collected along the way. Those two things might be his saving grace in the disaster of his first true fleet command.

It might not save his career, but it would hopefully spare his life. It he was eased out into retirement, perhaps given holdings and a minor title, he wasn't certain if he'd go for it or not. It would be tempting … but if he could get across his earnest yearning to pay back the federation for the humiliations he'd suffered at their hands …

Maybe, just maybe he wasn't out of the fight just yet he thought in the privacy of his own mind.

“They've been busy here,” Major Eichmann observed. “Building up?”

“Dead Drop is the wall in case the Retribution Fleet fails or is forced to retreat,” Commander Roshou stated.

“You really are worried they'll get torn up?” the major asked, turning to Commander Roshou.

“Aren't you?” Rick sniffed in disdain. “We saw what ships and defenses were in Protodon. And remember, that was nearly a half a year ago. The numbers have no doubt gone up from there.”

“Numbers across the board. I noted the difference in Captain Post's earlier report of no battle cruisers to facing the ones we saw there dueling with him as we escaped,” Admiral von Berk rumbled thoughtfully. “Fortunately, we did send our data forward in that courier. I received word that Admiral De Gaulte got it along with our other reports,” he said.

The major nodded, seemingly relieved at the news. “So, he has a better idea of what he's getting into. He'll stop at Nuevo Madrid no doubt, if only for resupply and to relieve them. Do you think they are building up forces here to send a convoy in to resupply him?” he asked.

“If they are it is going to make my plan to swap ships a bit trickier I suppose,” the admiral replied.

“You still wish to transfer to another ship, sir?”

“I think a faster ship is in order. A transport can handle the numbers we have easier, and
Ma Deuce
would be better suited here,” Admiral von Berk stated.

“Yes, but if they are building up for a resupply convoy, they aren't going to be willing to spring a transport loose for us,” Rick reminded him.

“That's the tricky part. I know I promised Frost I'd send
Ma Deuce
back, but I bet Captain Pickett is in no hurry. And I bet he wouldn't mind a refit cycle here. And since Dead Drop has those yard modules online now …,” the admiral smiled suggestively.

“Nice,” the major snorted. “Though I doubt Admiral Frost will agree,” he said chuckling.

The admiral shrugged. “His problem. I think I can pull rank and get what I want. At the least they'll want to get rid of me and get back to normal.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Rick said dubiously. That was one of the big things holding up the admiral's plan.
Ma Deuce's
time delay as she entered the star system had allowed the picket Commander Abernly to put him off as well as his plan to swap ships.

“We'll need some face time since talking about it over the radio hasn't been working, which means I'll need to go groundside.”

“And the doctor's request that his charges get some down side liberty as well, Admiral?”

“That … I'm not sure about. On the ground …,” he grimaced. “I know he is confident in their conditioning and the tracking devices he's wired them up with, but I'm not. I don't want them too tempted by the call of the sea to forget their duty to us,” he said.

“That is … a problem. A lake? Or pool?” Rick suggested.

“They aren't set up for fresh water,” Major Eichmann reminded the chief of staff with a shake of his head. The commander grimaced in distaste. “I think we could arrange a salt water pool. Transporting them will be tricky though. The water dwellers aren't the only ones who are conditioned. If the population sees them it could get ugly,” he warned.

“We'll figure it out.”

The admiral nodded. Switching the ship would be the smart move; there was no way
Ma Deuce's
dunce group of engineers could squeeze any additional speed out of the elderly
Cutlass
class destroyer's hyperdrive. Mara and her people squeezed a modicum of extra efficiency and sliced some of their transit time down, but it wasn't enough, not in his book. He had seen better and wanted it.

More importantly, he needed to show that ability to the powers that be before they got to the empire. With a proper ship, one most recently refitted in the empire, they'd get that chance he thought.

:::{)(}:::

“Okay, so the plan is to leave
Ma Deuce
behind to help protect this star system in favor of a faster ship, a personnel transport or liner,” Commander Magnus Abernly stated, sitting back in his chair and letting his ample abdomen spill over his belt. He frowned thoughtfully at the admiral.

It still bothered him that he, an Abernly, was a lowly commander. He'd been stuck as a commander for two decades while others had passed him by. But that was the problem with taking a staff or base duty; you got shuffled off into a thankless job he reminded himself.

The picket commander frowned thoughtfully as he considered the issue from all angles. Now that the admiral had forced his hand and confronted him in his own office, he had to think it through … and the more he thought about it, the more he was certain he was getting the better part of the deal. The admiral didn't care as long as he got what he wanted it seemed.

Which was one of the reasons Magnus was hesitating. He didn't like it when the other guy wasn't left shaking his hand and head and wondering if he'd been taken for a ride.

Magnus frowned as he glanced at the admiral's silent chief of staff waiting in the background, then out to a window. He knew that the empire would eventually order a resupply of the Retribution Fleet. He'd seen it coming. He'd also seen ships beginning to stack up in his star system. With any luck, the transport the admiral wanted to “borrow” would return with some additional personnel and some goodies he could use to keep things running smoothly in Dead Drop.

When he'd accepted the posting from Baron Cartwright, he'd taken it as a sign of good things to come for his career. That he was given charge of a star system with a shipyard, granted a single slip and civilian grade repair facility, it meant he was on his way up.

Then
El Dorado
had been found, and the personnel running the yard had been poached for it. He'd seen his career stall and then go into a tail spin as Sigma sector suddenly grew in importance. One by one his picket ships and traffic had been pulled and never returned. The graft he'd expected from ships passing through the star system had also withered and dried up.

Then the federation had come to pass right in their own backyard. He knew that burned, as did the consternation and humiliation that they'd beaten several Gather Fleets that had been sent to gather the sector up and tuck them into the arms of the empire.

Other officers had burned and sulked. He'd seen it as an opportunity initially, a reawakening of his purpose and career. A potential stop to the free fall. But when the federation had taken Protodon, it had alarmed him. Seeing Post's two battle cruisers passing through had allied that fear, right up until they'd gotten word from Frost's courier that
Nevada
and
Massachusetts
had been beaten not once, but twice. Then the fear had returned and grown ever higher—right up until Admiral De Gaulte had shown up. That had sparkled elation—right up until the admiral had poached two of his destroyers for his force.

At least he'd left the two cruisers
Drake
and
Chasseur
as well as his four other tin cans and five frigates alone, Magnus thought acidly. He knew it was because he'd had the foresight to delay their refits to the point where they weren't ready to go with the fleet. He'd had a devil of a time dealing with their bridge crews, but they'd eventually thank him if the Retribution Fleet got tore up as he expected.

It was a see-saw of emotions going back and forth like that. It wasn't good for him; according to his doctor the stress was starting to affect him. He was determined to do something about it and to hell with the woman's insistence that he lay off the fatty foods and exercise more. So, keeping the destroyer would help a little bit.

Not that he intended to tell the admiral that, he reflected as he drummed his fat fingers on the desk top.

Linnaeus saw the indecision on the other man's face and decided to sweeten the pot a little, no matter how much the idea disgusted him. And he could always “forget” the promise later he reasoned.

“I understand you are a commander still,” Admiral von Berk said, eying the big man. “And I sympathize. You've been forgotten here. I think I can rectify that. A nice gold star in my report and some whispers in the right ears could get you bumped.”

“A promotion?” the commander asked, eying the admiral thoughtfully. He licked his lips. He'd heard such promises before, but each time he knew he had to take a chance on it. He yearned for the stars that he knew he more than richly deserved.

“Long
overdue. Very long overdue given your station and importance of Dead Drop in the greater schemes of the empire,” the chief of staff said, backing his boss up.

It was definitely true. The commander was in charge of a pair of cruisers, tin cans, frigates, and the new reinforcements that had arrived a week prior to their arrival. That included two additional couriers; two medium personnel transports; three freighters, one of which was outfitted as a munitions ship; four home-built
Apollo
class corvettes; two home-built
Manta
class frigates; an entire shipment of gunships; and two escorting
Nelson
class destroyers. They were
supposed
to wait for approval from Admiral De Gaulte before moving forward. The commander, by virtue of being senior officer by time-in-grade, had taken control of the force in order to reinforce his own picket.

His reasoning was sound; after all, why have those ships idle waiting on a call? They could be waiting months before the courier came with the all clear to move forward into Nuevo Madrid or Protodon! It was only fitting to put them to work. And Commander Abernly had a point. In pulling the passengers off the transports, he'd managed to fully outfit the star system's repair yard. They'd even been able to send down the least capable of the draftees to fill other positions in the process.

Manning the yard had allowed him to finally make some long overdue overhauls of the ships nominally under his command. It had also allowed him to make some repairs to passing ships, which was important given De Gaulte's other bombshell.

Concern over the structural cracks had made the engineers double check
Ma Deuce
and all of the other older ships.
Ma Deuce's
engineers had indeed found such cracks in her frame, which had led to some concern that pushing the ships up the octaves might lead to catastrophic failure. Hence the need for a replacement ship and a need to do a full thorough inspection of every inch of each and every ship that wasn't new construction.