Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (71 page)

“Adding telepathy to your abilities, Catherine?” the admiral asked. She just smiled. He shook his head. “We'll get him what we can when we can. Until then he's just going to have to make due, the same for all of us,” Admiral De Gaulte said dismissively.

“Sir, we could send the marine transports there. Help him re-secure the planet,” Catherine suggested.

The admiral glanced at the transports. They and the last of his fleet train were en route to the B-97a jump point. The factory ship, transports, and escorts would wait there while the other ships raced to Dead Drop to resupply. “Tempting. Very tempting. I'm not too keen about leaving them behind though. The stealthed federation ships that we haven't been able to run down will easily pick them off. I'm not willing to detach an escort for them as well.”

“You think there is more than one ship here, Admiral?” Myron asked, looking up and over to them from his station.

“Don't you?” the admiral asked. The tactical officer looked nonplused. “Always have a backup.”

The tactical officer blinked and then nodded. “Oh.”

“It's not a tin can either. Neither of them I should say. I think it's a light cruiser. LCs are built for this sort of action,” he said, indicating the plot of the star system. “They've got the legs and the stealth system that a tin can doesn't have.”

“It is possible, sir,” Myron said cautiously. “We've gotten a whiff of ships under stealth but CIC is discounting them as more games,” he allowed.

“I know. They are afraid that since they cried wolf so much we won't believe them anymore. That is a dangerous situation; one we'll have to rectify,” the admiral said with a grimace.

“Yes, sir,” Myron said cautiously. It was clear that he wasn't certain as to how.

“We'll work on it en route. For the moment, let's get this show on the road. We have a party to attend,” the admiral said, indicating the countdown.

He kept his fingers crossed mentally that they weren't too late and that the enemy hadn't been reinforced.

Something told him though that his blessings with Lady Luck weren't that fortunate however, which meant he might have to dust off a game of his own and see if it worked. It would be a gamble and it would leave the route home vulnerable but it would strike a blow if properly executed he thought.

But he was reluctant to share it with his staff. The concept would be anathema to them, and it could impact morale. He knew it would if it came at them cold, but he didn't want them to know. No, not just yet he thought as the countdown hovered near the ten mark.

“You are clear for jump,” he said as the navigator turned expectantly to him.

Lieutenant Herod nodded. “Aye aye, sir. Fleet is secure and clear for jump in ten … nine … eight …”

:::{)(}:::

Commander Abernly felt mixed feelings as the first reinforcements dispatched to Dead Drop arrived in the star system. On the one hand, more help was certainly welcome. On the other, eventually someone was going to come along who outranked him and then his fiefdom would go up in smoke. He wasn't certain if he could handle playing second fiddle to someone else. Not after being top dog for nay on twenty years, he thought.

But the relief was short-lived. The report came in that it was one squadron of
Manta
class Frigates. “Well, it's a start,” Commander Abernly growled as his staff processed the report the frigate flagship transmitted to his base.

“You'll like this more, sir,” Lieutenant Sri Savenan stated. He held out a tablet.

The commander took it, and then scanned the contents. When he was finished, he grunted. “Well, it's about time. Captain though,” he said. “
Only
a captain?”

“Yes, sir. May I be the first to congratulate you, sir?” Lieutenant Savenan said with a sycophantic smile.

“Thanks,” the newly-minted captain said gruffly. “I'll have to have my uniforms retailored. Have my yeoman see to that. In the meantime, we need to go over these downloads I suppose. We'll also need to integrate these ships.”

“Yes, sir. At least they came in as a coherent squadron, not dribs and drabs. And they are new construction too, sir. They won't have the crack problems that the old ships have,” the OPS officer stated.

“We'll see. My experience with new construction is limited I admit. But I imagine there are some teething issues involved somewhere; there always is,” the captain growled. “Find out what they need for resupply. Have someone handle that. Once they are cleared, I want to put them on the jump point and swap them for most of what we've got there. I want them pulled back for a refit cycle now that we've got the yard modules up and running.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the OPS officer replied, making a note of the order. When he finished he looked up. “We've received another supply shipment of parts from the factories, sir. They are going through quality control now.”

“Good. Make sure they do a decent job this time, damn it,” the captain growled. “We don't want to have to yank a component and replace it twice,” he said. The OPS officer nodded dutifully. “Go over that download. Pick out what I need to know right off. Start with the next resupply mission. I don't like how far De Gaulte keeps drawing down our inventory. We're going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel too soon at this rate,” he said with a grimace.

“We already are on ordinance, sir. We have no capital ship ordinance at all, and all of our capital ship parts were shipped out. Only common parts remain. We're slowly restocking from the factories on the planet but they can only make so much and we still have quality control issues with them as you know,” the lieutenant stated.

“Yes, I know. It's what we get for using substandard labor I suppose. They don't have their heart in the job. So be it. Get QC up. I want a carrot and a stick. Don't tell them about the carrot.”

The lieutenant frowned. Knowing his boss, there wasn't an incentive. He'd promised one if the factories met quota. When they had he'd raised the bar and only paid a small bonus to the factory managers and supervisors. Raising the bar each time made it eventually almost impossible to get there without turning a blind eye and lowering their own quality control standards. But the captain didn't understand that. “The stick, sir?” he asked.

“Several. One, if they screwup and something gets past them, I'm going to take it out on them. Make sure they know that. Two,” he held up a second fat finger. “If they find too many rejects, we are going to do some house cleaning in the factories. We've got tracking numbers for a reason. We'll do a full investigation, get to the root of the problem, and make changes. If that means removing personnel, so be it,” he growled.

“Aye aye, sir,” the lieutenant said with a nod. Removing personnel had a different connotation than some thought. Many were prisoners or virtual slave laborers. They were laboring under harsh conditions with little food, rest, or safety. People like the captain thought of them as expendable, and they were. They could be replaced. But the time to do so and to train new personnel to replace them would mean a downtick in production and an uptick in rejects. Not something either of them wanted.

But not something he could easily explain to his boss. Not when the man wasn't willing or interested in listening. “I'll pass both warnings on, sir,” he said.

“Good. Email it to the supervisors and then get on that report I asked for. I'm going to check out my paperwork, then see if there are any personal or eyes-only messages for me. If you accidentally run across any, forward them,” he ordered as he headed out of OPS.

“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a nod as his boss left. His shoulders slumped briefly in relief before he straightened and turned to the staff. “Well, you heard the man, we've got our work cut out for us,” he said.

Heads bobbed and fingers flew as they got to work.

:::{)(}:::

Friar Tuck
jumped into Garth space without incident. It was such a smooth downward translation that the captain made a grudging compliment to Mara. “You do good work young … woman,” the captain said. The young woman nodded and ducked her head in humility as the doctor escorted her off the bridge.

Admiral von Berk noted her departure, smiled to her to show his approval, but his attention was on Garth. The water dweller's manning of the helm had made the former medium-sized liner faster in hyperspace, but there was only so much they could do. They were one part of the equation in other words; the rest was up to engineering. Apparently the ships recently refitted in Horath were up to the task, and
Friar Tuck
certainly had been recently refitted, but she had civilian grade components not military ones.

He itched to show just how fast Mara and her people were at the helm of a true ship and to showcase their other abilities, like skipping and coming in on any vector. But that would have to wait.

“I was hoping
Maid Marianne
or one of the other ships would be here, no such luck,” a rating muttered.

“Are you kidding me? They are off in Sigma somewhere on some super-secret mission,” another rating said.

“Sir, we're getting a hail from the planet,” a comm rating replied.

“Send them our IFF. We won't be staying long,” the captain said. “Just passing through, right, Admiral?” he asked, eying the admiral.

“Yes,” the admiral said.

“Sir, they have priority passengers and cargo to move to Horath. We're being ordered to divert to the planet,” the rating said helplessly.

The admiral scowled and for the moment ignored the searching look the captain shot his way. Technically the captain was in charge of the ship. He could be callous, but that could backfire. Reluctantly he nodded. “Divert and pick up the passengers. Make sure they know not to dawdle. We need to expedite the movement on the snap, Captain,” he said, turning to face the man.

“Aye aye, Admiral,” the captain replied formally. He turned to his crew. “You heard the man,” he said. The navigator nodded and began plotting the new course.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral von Berk hadn't been happy about the delay, but he'd been more or less resigned to it after they'd moved into the inner star system. The four-day crossing of the star system had turned into three days to the planet, then a two-day layover while the passengers got their act together and boarded the shuttles, and then another three days to the jump point to Horath.

He'd done his best to bank his ire and suppress it as he greeted the officers and two junior lords at the captain's mess just before they jumped. “I'm glad you showed up. It means we can be there for the Senate and House of Lords opening session this season,” a marquis said.

Admiral von Berk nodded. He'd already forgotten the man's name, and that was incredibly lax of him. He'd have to hit Rick up to drill him on names and faces later he thought. “I heard you made good time getting here from Dead Drop? And that your … passengers were a contributing factor?” the marquis inquired.

The admiral nodded. “We have picked up some …priority personnel. I'm afraid the rest of the details are classified,” he said, when Commander Roshou shot him a warning look.

“And what of the recreational facilities? I promised my children they would be able to swim and enjoy themselves. I found that they are off limits?” she said with a simmering frown.

“I'm afraid so,” the captain said smoothly nodding to the admiral.

“Well, surely you can make an exception,” she whined.

“I'm afraid not. Our orders are clear, ma'am,” Commander Roshou said with a moue.

“No one asked you,” she said lifting her nose in a sniff to the commander. “Honestly. Aides should be seen and
not
heard,” she said.

“He did indeed forget his place,” the marquis said, eying the commander severely.

Rick looked down and flushed slightly. Major Eichmann picked up his wine glass but didn't come to his defense.

“Commander Roshou is only stating a fact,” Admiral von Berk said, coming to his aide's defense. “Unfortunately our … priority personnel need special handling and life support,” he said.

The baroness frowned thoughtfully. The marquis scowled. “You mean they need the pool for life support? Then they aren't human,” he growled. He turned a glower on the captain. “And you are trusting the safety of your ship, our safety, to these alien beings?” he demanded, tossing his linen napkin onto his plate.

“Unheard of!” the baroness said, paling.

“They are quite well trained,” Doctor Milgram said, speaking up for the first time. The lord and Lady ignored him with contempt. “And it is an Imperial edict,” he said.

That sunk into the baroness enough to make her blink. She frowned thoughtfully.

Admiral von Berk nodded. “We can't get into further discussion on it I am afraid,” he said, passing on a warning look to his subordinates as well as the captain. The captain spread his fingers on the table as if to indicate he understood. “I can assure you though that your safety is held in high regard as is everyone else on board,” he said, nodding to the captain.

“Indeed,” the captain said. He looked up to his steward and signaled the man. “Now, does anyone want desert?” he asked, smiling as he changed the subject.