Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (50 page)

“I do as well, my dear,” the doctor said, rubbing her arm again before he released her in front of her door. “Now, you get some rest, and I'll check in with you in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay, Doctor,” she replied dutifully. She nodded.

Once she was inside he stopped at the duty nurse. “That incident was more of a problem than we needed,” the psychologist growled.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Any behavior incidents?” he asked as he held out a hand. She inserted a tablet into it.

“No, Doctor. Some brief hesitation and long looks. No break out.”

“No external signs then,” the doctor said nodding.

“Doctor, we've had some inquiries about them from the ship's crew and some demands to use the pool facilities.”

“I've arranged for us to use them exclusively. I want contact with the crew kept to a minimum. Bridge watches are to be minimum discourse, only discussions about duty. They are supposed to be escorted to and from each watch as well,” the doctor ordered.

The nurse grimaced. “Doctor, they are on six-hour rotation. We don't have sufficient staff to handle that and maintain a watch here,” she warned.

The doctor frowned. “I'll see what I can do,” he said with a sigh. “Damn the situation,” he muttered.

“Yes, Doctor.”

The momentary break in conditioning pissed off the doctor a bit more than he'd like to admit, but he knew such things were bound to happen. Even insulated their conditioning was fragile. Repetition would dull it. He frowned thoughtfully. He was tempted to go to the admiral but he knew the man was busy and rather frustrated by various things. He shook his head. “They are classified, so make certain the others know they are to maintain minimum interaction with the crew and other passengers. The pool deck and their quarters are off limits for the duration of the voyage. Have someone make a sign or something,” he said as he scanned the charts with a careful eye. He flipped through them. The vital signs were all normal.

“If the nightmares continue, we'll have to dig out the equipment for a refresher in sleep teaching to re-indoctrinate the water dwellers and reinforce our earlier conditioning. I don't want that though. It's a hassle at this point, and getting the facilities to do it, not to mention the support, would be tricky.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll see if I can get the ship's doctor or SBA to lend a hand. I'll read them after I check with them. Perhaps they have a couple orderlies we can borrow for the escorts.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Get me that watch rotation.” He frowned as he tapped at the tablet. He brought up the internal security feed and watched as the water dwellers interacted in the pool. The adults were content to float or swim against the current in the swim pool. The younger set enjoyed the water slides and even the surfing pool. He scowled. “I don't want any accidents or injuries,” he said. “Have them shut those down.”

“Sir, it will cause some discontent,” the nurse warned. “They seem to love it, and it's a good distraction for them.”

“They are prized subjects. I don't want any head or other trauma. We will continue to baby them as if they are our own children. That means minimizing risks. Shut them down. That's an order.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse replied.

“And don't question my orders again,” the doctor said, handing the tablet back.

“Yes, Doctor,” she replied again as he walked off. She frowned, tempted to stick her tongue out at his back but decided against it. It wouldn't be prudent and the man seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

She continued to frown as she watched the kids playing. She couldn't just walk in and shut it off; that would be a dead giveaway that they were doing something the doctor didn't want, which would cause problems with their conditioning. And the good doctor hadn't considered it; he'd just dumped it in her lap. Perhaps an engineering malfunction? She frowned. Perhaps with one, she thought with a nod. The other … it would have to wait. The surfing she thought as she saw a young fishman take a header off the boogie board he'd been riding. She winced. There was something to be said there she thought as the fishman was picked up by the wave and casually thrown back into the pool behind the surfing area. She nodded. Yes, a little subtle sabotage, blame it on the salt corrosion … That would work she thought.

But they could keep the water slide. At least until the doctor took note again.

:::{)(}:::

It took several days for the ship to travel to the Garth jump point. The bridge watch and techs took that time to get the kinks out of the grav tank and realign the sensors for optimal efficiency.

Admiral von Berk had spent a great deal of that time convincing the dubious skipper that it would be worth the extra effort once he saw how fast and efficient the water dwellers made his ship in hyperspace.

When it was her time to start the first shift and jump them into hyperspace, Doctor Milgram met her at her quarters. She was nervous but not unduly so. She'd done it before, and she loved the god sea. It was a treat, even better than swimming in water. It was also her duty to the empire to fly the ships, and she wanted to do it to please the doctor and admiral.

She smiled briefly as the doctor looked her over. “Ready, my dear?” he asked as he indicated she should precede them. “Ladies first,” he said.

Her smile briefly widened as she stepped in front of him with a slight curtsy. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

They made their way silently through the ship to the bridge. She realized the ship was quite large and rather splendidly outfitted in some places, what with brass fixtures and fittings and real wood inlay. She would have liked to have lingered at the sights, but the doctor urged her on, which triggered a sense of guilt about dawdling and taking up so much of the doctor's time. After all, he had the others to look after as well, she reminded herself.

When they stepped onto the spartan bridge, she nodded, all smiles as her eyes lit on the grav tank. Out of the corner of her eyes though she saw the cool looks of … disdain from the crew. They bothered her distantly, though she wasn't certain as to why.

When she saw the gruff-bearded captain eye her, she cringed internally. But he didn't talk to her; he just turned to the doctor. “This had better be worth it, Doctor,” he growled.

“It is. You'll see in a moment,” the doctor said smoothly as he eased his charge past the dark brooding looks and over to the grav tank next to the helm. The bridge was tight quarters before the addition of the grav tank, even more so with it there. But there hadn't been any other place to put it, not and still tie into the ship's system and for the helmsperson to be under constant watch of the bridge crew.

“I had hoped to have gotten you wireless implants, my dear, but that will have to wait,” the doctor said as he started to make the connections to her suit. She held her arms out and waited passively as he hooked up the monitoring equipment. “All set,” he said with a smile.

“Remember, she's a transport, not a warship, so take it easy with her. Mind her limitations and her age,” the Doctor told her.

“I'll do my best, sir,” she said dubiously. She was determined to try, but she didn't want to cause any problems for the doctor.

“We've only got civilian grade sensors so don't push it,” the captain warned.

“I'll try not to, sir,” Mara said with a nod his way.

“I know, dear,” the doctor said with a sympathetic smile as Mara was prepped for her position in the grav tank. “Did you thank the admiral and Commander Roushou for securing the fish and sea food? They did their best to make certain it was as fresh as possible,” he said.

“No, I need to do that,” Mara said, rubbing her arm in sudden discomfort.

“I'll pass along your thanks then,” the doctor said as he helped place her headset on her. “And if you do a good job that will be all the thanks the admiral needs. Comfortable?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, sir,” she said as she let go of the side of the tank and drifted to the center. “I'm ready, sir,” she said blindly.

“Very well. You're in good hands, Mara. Take us home,” he said.

“Yes, Doctor,” the woman said as she took over the helm.

:::{)(}:::

Two weeks after Admiral von Berk's departure, the Retribution courier arrived in Dead Drop with news of the battle of B-97a. It also carried news that wounded ships would be following in its wake.

Initial elation over the unexpected victory changed to concern and then consternation over the damage that had been reported. The news that seven ships had been destroyed outright came as a blow as did the news that
Cat Scratch
, one of the ships Admiral De Gaulte had commandeered in the star system, was one of those ships.

Commander Abernly also felt concern when he put that news with the prior report of cracks in the ship's structures. Would that be a factor in future battles? What about just moving around from star system to star system? Or traveling around Dead Drop? He wasn't certain but ordered an engineering check of all ships that came to the star system. He had no intention of getting in trouble if one of them failed.

His happiness over scoring
Ma Deuce
had long faded. The
Cutlass
class destroyer was old and had the damn cracks. She was taking up the entire slip for an inordinate amount of time to get sorted out.

His mood was even lower after he got the courier turned around and sent out as well as the convoy. He wasn't at all happy about losing the ships and personnel. They had strict orders to stop in B-97A and go no further until the courier brought back word of safe passage. If they didn't receive word within a set window, they were to return to Dead Drop.

Chapter 20

The Horathian Empire received word of the engineering problems with the Retribution Fleet when the first of Admiral De Gaulte's courier message packets made its way into the star system aboard the monthly courier from Garth.

The crack warning hit the praetor's office like a blow. It was something that had happened on his watch and at a very bad time. A time when someone somewhere should have seen it, especially with all the refits currently underway.

Admiral Cartwright quickly ordered a check of all ships and an investigation as to why they hadn't been seen before. Within hours his office received tentative replies back that some cracks had been found. He cursed. He cursed the refit teams more. He was so tempted to find someone to ball out or execute. Oh so tempted, but he couldn't at the time.

Instead he ordered a complete strip down during the overhaul process. The work crews were to scan all of the structural beams, even the hard to reach ones. Admiral Post shook his head as he came unceremoniously into the praetor's office. “Kicking over ant hills, Malwin? You know that's not going to go over good. And I bet BUSHIPS is going to shit a brick when they see how badly you're going to throw the refit time table off.”

Malwin worked his jaw as he looked away from the OPS officer. “So be it.”

“The emperor won't like it,” Lewis warned, raising an eyebrow. “Hell, I don't like it. I know it's necessary but damn!” he threw his hands up in despair as he threw himself into a guest chair. “There goes my OPS plans in the crapper!”

“He'll like it even less if we lose a ship. If we haven't already,” Malwin said. “I'm more focused on damage control now and making sure it doesn't get any worse than it already is,” he stated.

“True,” Lewis said uncomfortably.

“At least the problem is limited to our old salvage. It should have been caught long ago. But it wasn't, so it's on us to fix it. So be it. Get on that.”

The operations officer nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You can still drill the new construction. Nothing should affect them I hope. We're what, up to the
Archer
class?” Admiral Cartwright asked.

“The new destroyer class? Yes. It's based on the
Arboth
, but we pulled one of her dorsal graser turrets for more magazine space.” He left unsaid that it was also because their fusion reactors were still not quite up to federation standards so they couldn't fire all of the ship's energy mounts effectively.

“Good. By the gods of space, it's good to see we've finally got our own home-built designs going into production!” Malwin said with a tired smile. “But heaven help us if any faults are found in them,” he warned.

“Way to puncture a balloon,” Lewis sighed. “You and I both know every class is going to have its share of teething and settling-in issues while it gets its sailing legs under it. We need to keep people from making too much out of common problems.”

“But we also need to make certain they aren't overlooking bigger issues that'll turn around and bite us in the ass.”

“True,” Lewis replied. “I'm curious on how they'll stack up to tell you the truth. We pulled out all the crap for other species in the original Fed specs and tailored the design to just Terrans. We also simplified as much as possible of course. It's been a chore, but according to the bean counters, it should save on material and construction time.”