Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (3 page)

One thing she refused to do was to countersign any request to use her fighters for ground strafing runs. The last thing she needed was a fighter, designed for space combat, to be mixing it up in the soupy air while taking ground fire. It was another way for her people to get lost or shot up for little return. It wasn't going to happen on her watch. No way.

No matter how much her pilots or the shuttle crews whined and boo hooed about it, she thought in disgust.

She was rather lucky to be in the fleet, let alone a pilot and officer at all. She'd been found as a child, picked up in a stasis pod by a Horathian warship. Instead of being tormented, the skipper had taken her under her wing and trained her to become a Horathian officer. It hadn't occurred to her until much later that the crew had been mocking her earnest efforts to fit in behind her back. They'd thought the skipper had been molesting her. They had been wrong. Their attitudes had gone a long way to shape her own cold disdain for their thoughts or welfare.

When it boiled down to it, she was better off alone anyway. She took in enough talk to keep a finger on the pulse of the ship and squadrons and no more. She had a duty to perform. That attention to detail and single minded devotion to duty might make her seem like a marionette to some, but it earned grudging respect from all.

She didn't care for either. As long as they did their jobs, that was all that really mattered to her.

“CAG, you scheduled another exercise for tomorrow? You know we've got to watch the maintenance clocks on those birds, right?” the captain demanded as she entered the stuffy and smoke filled wardroom for the daily briefing.

Her eyes narrowed. She fought the tears from the smoke. So it was going to be like that, eh? She thought keeping her temper firmly in check as she took her rightful seat across from the XO. The XO had his pipe out but hadn't lit it. The skipper had already started in on the cigars she noted. “And we can't do all of the training in the simulators, sir. We don't have enough of them as you know. We've got to get our people out at least once a week—twice a week if possible.”

“What
all
of them?” the maintenance supervisor demanded.

“Quit your bitching. Yes, all of them,” Maya stated flatly in a no nonsense tone. “I told you and told you, we can't practice a full-up exercise with the three simulators we've got!”

“It's a lot of time on the clocks though,” the supervisor said imploringly. Two of the fighters are going to need complete teardowns if you do it, Meia,” he said.

Her arctic blue eyes flashed. “It's Maya, not Meia. Get it straight, Stracker. I'm starting to wonder about what else you've been screwing up if you can't even get my name right,” she said. “And it's Commander Gisborn to you,” she added.

“At ease,” the captain said mildly. “I'm of two minds about this exercise you've got planned CAG. Stracker is right.”

“I've already cleared it with the admiral,” Maya said, turning her eyes on the skipper. He stiffened. “He wanted an exercise anyway and this fits. It's why I waited for tomorrow to schedule it,” she smiled thinly. “It will certainly punch up things a notch!” she said.

The XO frowned thoughtfully. He knew the CAG going over the skipper's head wasn't going to sit well. Maya didn't play politics worth a damn, but she certainly knew what buttons to push. Especially those that were certain to piss people off. She also seemed bound and determined to push every single last one of them.

“Very well,” the skipper said stiffly. “I'll check of course; he hasn't said anything to me,” he said, nose in the air. “But for the moment I'm willing to take your word for it, CAG,” he said. He turned to look at the other officers around the table. “That means we need to adjust our expectations and facilitate this exercise to the best of our ability.
Lingchi
has a reputation of excellence to uphold after all,” he intoned firmly.

The officers around the table nodded. The XO crossed his arms and leaned back, eying the CAG and then Stracker. Stracker was liable to do something stupid eventually, most likely to put a certain amount of egg all over Maya's face. Hopefully it was just egg and not anything fatal. Pilots of her caliber were in short supply—just like the fighter she saddled up with.

Hopefully it wouldn't be fatal. He didn't want to lose both officers. He made a mental note to sit on Stracker. Get the guy beered up to blow off the head of steam he was building up or something. He also planned to have a quiet word with Maya as well. She should know better than to antagonize her crew chief. Her safety and the mission rested in his hands as much as her own. He'd seen what a few “accidents” could do to a good officer that took their job a little too far.

“Since the CAG let the cat out of the bag early, I suppose she might be so inclined to give us a tip on what the exercise plot is supposed to be? And what our role in it is going to be? Just so we're all on the same script page of course,” the captain said in a dust dry voice as he eyed the CAG.

Maya nodded. “We're going to do a magnum launch and simulate an attack on the cruisers while they mix it up.”

“Whose side are we on?” the XO asked.

“Whoever is on the losing side, according to our op orders. The admiral is going to sit it out and let the captains play for the points. We're the nasty surprise he's got tucked away. I'm all for that. I plan on giving them a rather particular nasty surprise when I line up for a strafing run,” she grinned wolfishly.

The skipper nodded.

“Oh, and the admiral did let slip that the ship with the best point score at the end gets liberty and some downtime,” Maya added almost absently. That earned some whistles and cheers of appreciation.

“Okay then. Let's see if we can help you out then,” the skipper said with an earnest nod. “Since we plan on being the ones with the liberty and honors,” he said with a tight smile.

---<>))))

Admiral Von Berk stared, hands behind his back as the exercise commenced. He'd always been a stickler for doing things right, and today was no exception. He was the referee. The cruisers and destroyers were divided up more or less evenly.

His people hadn't taken their roles seriously, at least not at first. Those from the Gather Fleet had been contemptuous of the civilians. Those transfers from Home Fleet had more fleet training, but it had been in feel-good exercises that you tended to know the outcome in advance. Scripted deals to handle the politics of the fleet.

Oh, sometimes there had been upsets. Sometimes someone got a little too full of themselves and had broken ranks and won an engagement they had been projected to lose. The winner had received a brief spat of public recognition but privately those who had lost had sharpened their knives or put a black mark in their ledger. Even those not involved had marked them down as unacceptable.

That was changing however. The discovery of
El Dorado
had kick-started the next phase of the great plan. The discovery of a Federation Naval presence in their own backyard had also come as something of an unwelcome shock. When news of the losses their side had suffered reached the fleet, it had created a shake-up.

Now they were training more. Treating it less as a game, less as a chest pounding match, or an opportunity to put an upstart in his place. For those like him, he treated it seriously, as seriously as the life and death struggle it was
supposed
to be. His people had quickly learned that before they'd gotten past Garth that he meant business.

Their recent captures had carried news with them, news of more losses for the Horathian empire. The admiral and his staff had carefully gone over every report to tease out as much detail as they could. There had been a recent ship passing through with detailed news reports that had made the task easier.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow to see both Admiral Cartwright and Admiral Rico taken down. They'd seemed like amateurs, taken down so easily. Taken down by forces numerically inferior to their own. Forces that were outgunned but apparently far from outmatched. It had lent a certain appeal to renew the exercises with a fresh coat of realism, hence the current exercise in progress.

Maya was a sneaky devil. He'd signed off on her addition to his exercise plan just to see how his ships would react. It should be good he thought.

Apache
was doing well, but loosing
Jean Lafitte
had cost her in points. Eliza's insistence on initially ignoring
Adventure Galley
and
Calico Jack
to focus on the tin cans had allowed her to take them out.
Jean
had also wounded
Calico
before she'd been taken down.

For this engagement, and to make things even, he'd signed off on
Adventure Galley
being rated as an HC so the two flagships were evenly matched. But Eliza's attritioning of the other side's tin cans might prove telling as the engagement commenced.

He smiled thinly as
Adventure Galley
and
Calico Jack
broke off, attempting to get clear to gain time for
Calico Jack
to lick her virtual wounds. Unfortunately for them they weren't keeping together as tightly as they could. As the minutes passed, the wounded light cruiser fell further and further behind.

Was it a bait? Or sacrifice? He wasn't sure. He watched as Eliza's two destroyers latched onto her from the rear. It was a stern chase, but with the prey already wounded, it wasn't a simple run as Cory had thought, he realized.

Captain Cory realized his error and his ship heaved to, slacking her speed in order to let her sister ship catch up. But the tin cans exchanged fire from long-range, crippling her further. He turned and made a note.

More virtual weapon fire began to rain back from
Adventure Galley
as she tried to drive the
Nelson
and
Antelope
off her division mate.

But then
Apache
was there, suddenly putting on a burst of speed to swoop in. She instantly drew the fire from the other two ships. But she was a heavy cruiser, designed to take such punishments. And while she did she thundered back, tearing into
Calico Jack
, rolling to put the ship between her and
Adventure Galley's
simulated fire.

Meanwhile the two tin cans had continued their attack on the already wounded light cruiser completely unmolested or contested. Something gave and the light cruiser's drive cut out. His eyes glittered. Her turrets went down after a moment. His eyes cut to the status board, and he nodded at what he saw.
Calico Jack
was a dead stick; she'd lost her fight for life.

Eliza smoothly covered for her two tin cans as they moved outside of
Adventure Galley's
engagement envelope. She now had three ships to his one. His was unwounded while her trio had various states of injuries. As he watched the simulated repairs began to take place, bringing the ships back up to … he tapped out an order and drew a line. There, he thought, eyes flicking to Eliza's image on the bridge. He'd cut her off at 80 percent. She'd have to make do with that. She also had fuel and ammunition problems he noted.

He wondered briefly if she realized them. Too many times people in sims forgot fuel and munitions during the engagement. Many times they totally ignored them. Unfortunately, some of the more politically connected officers had written backdoor programs to allow that to happen. It was unrealistic, and a trend he wanted to end.

As he wool gathered,
Apache
and her consorts regrouped and then swung back in to finish the job. The two tin cans were on either flank, with the
Nelson
Arrogant
between
Adventure Galley
and the other ships. He frowned thoughtfully.
Nelsons
were geared as fleet defense ships, but
Arrogant
hadn't served as such. He wasn't sure if she could handle the task. Finally, he grunted. It didn't matter. She was a missile sponge; she'd soak up
Adventure Galley's
incoming fire while the others pounded their opponent into wreckage.

“Anytime now,” he muttered, checking the clock and then the plot. He wondered if Maya had gotten herself out of position. He also wondered which side she'd throw herself against.

His thoughts were cut off as the final engagement began. Was Maya holding off … he frowned, checking the plot. When he didn't see her on the plot, he scowled then caught himself. She had deliberately kept her two squadrons dark, shutting down the IFF so CIC wouldn't alert Eliza. Slowly he nodded. It sucked for him but …

He grinned as
Adventure Galley
staggered. But as she staggered, so too did
Arrogant
. The
Nelson
went adrift, out of the game. Two against one, everyone wounded, but …

He blinked in shock just like everyone else as the fighters came in. One moment it was the void; the next the two squadrons were coming in from opposite directions. They scissored across all three opponents, tearing into them with virtual missiles and energy weapons. With their shields already battered and most of their energy focused on keeping the shields up between themselves and the enemy they knew, the opposite shields were overloaded and went down in a series of sparks. He winced and hoped it was more simulated damage, explaining any real damage was going to be tough enough he thought.