Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (59 page)

“I see,” Nara said softly. She waited a long moment until he turned his head and looked with lost eyes out the wall screen once more. “Well, for what it's worth, we'll do our best, sir.”

“I know.”

“As soon as we get a handle on logistics, I want to stand down the
Doras
. They can haul less than a tenth of the cargo a
Liberty
or
Victory
class can. We'll slot their crews into them or into other ships as needed.”

“And the ships themselves?” the doctor asked. “Oh, mothball them?”

He shook his head. “No. I want to remove their military hardware and then sell them,” he said with a shrug. She blinked. “It'll jump start commerce. We sell them at cost or at a loss, but it will do a lot for the economy and commerce.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “That's a lot of tramp freighters. They'll be competing a lot.”

“And people will need to learn to man and maintain them—industry behind that as well. Then there are the trades involved and cash flow.”

“You know the government won't get its fair share,” she said darkly.

He snorted. “You'd be surprised once we get custom officers into every port.” She cocked her head. “We'll get our due. Not a lot, I bet a few will be turned into smugglers. But enough to help out.” She nodded.

“So, I need to step up the medical training programs I see,” she said, slapping her thighs as she rose. “I'm going to need to figure out how to get more people involved—more incentives obviously. I'm not thrilled about not telling them about being deployed on a warship and being thrown into harm's way though.”

“You don't tell them,” he said.

“A lie of omission is still a lie, Admiral,” she said. “People will resent it,” She warned.

He snorted. “There is an old saying in the military. If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined. It goes right up there with follow orders. They'll get over it or they won't. If they don't they'll serve their contract and then get out to join civilian practice, which will also help the economy.”

“True. They won't understand it, and we can't explain it. The stubborn ones won't listen.”

“Their problem,” the admiral replied with a shrug. “I'll ask Sprite,” he frowned, “No, scratch that, Mnemosyne, I mean. I'll ask her to help with creating some dumb A.I. medical software. She might have some on file. We have some in the military. But if we can get a bit on hand, it will help.”

“A talking computer can't do hands-on. And robots are limited,” Nara warned. “I really need the medics at Epsilon Triangula. If there are any left,” she said darkly.

He nodded, suddenly sober. “Contact them. Find out who is still in command. They aren't going to be happy about losing people though,” he warned, “not with rebuilding their planet. Figure it out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed then.”

She smiled briefly then left with only one backwards glance. He watched her go, toying with a stylus before he returned to the next problem.

Chapter
31

Admiral Irons mused as he looked out at the view. He had paperwork to do, he knew it, meetings to attend, replicators to key access to, meetings to promote junior officers and pass on additional keys … a full docket on his schedule. And that was just the military side. On the other political side, he still needed to finish his cabinet, get the various departments smoothed out, and continue to expand the Federation, weaving the reins of government into everything while also pushing to grow the economy as quickly as possible to support it all.

Yet, here he was woolgathering.

Again.

He shook his head ruefully, tearing his eyes away from the view. He loved it. He loved the view of the yard, even the damaged portions from the
Bismark
incident. Vestri had made good on the physical damage but hadn't bothered to repaint. Eventually a robot might be detailed to do that chore. Probably more than one. But not now. Everyone and everything was needed to get
Bismark
back on schedule while also making up for lost time.

Recently he'd kept turning his attention to Pyrax. He wished … oh how he wished! He wished he had the stockpile, the yards, the personnel, all of it here in Antigua, he thought. All of it. Horatio had done good by him, sending him a selection of good yard dogs to act as core personnel, but it wasn't enough. Vestri and his deputies were working miracles, and again, not enough.

Despite the
Liberty
,
Dora
, and
Victory
hulls rolling out of the production lines, shipping was still a headache. Shipping capital ship components to the yards in Pyrax to get the battle cruisers and larger ships out of dock took a lot of time and mass. That was putting a crimp on his revised plans, but shifting to a carrier-based strategy even more so.

It meant building them from scratch, which probably made more sense in the long run. Unfortunately, their mining fleet in the star system was close to the saturation point. He would need to spend a week or two to focus on expanding it he thought.

According to Horatio's timetable, Pyrax would be finished with the second BC squadron by the end of the year now that the BC line was up to speed. But he knew it was a balancing act. As they started to run down on the stockpiled parts for the second squadron, they'd have to pull people out to begin working on new keels. That would slow production, something they could ill afford to do right at the moment or anytime in the future.

But there was no helping it. They couldn't just throw additional people and robots at the problem. Well, robots yes, they could be easily programmed. But people were a different story. Even the robots needed time for their self-learning algorithms to adapt to what they'd been programmed and the reality of the yard.

People were similar in theory but far more complex in real life. They were the crimp in the plan. Not only did they have a finite pool of trained people, but they also had been dipping into the existing pool to fill the voids in the manning of the ships when they launched. Hiring more people was ongoing of course, but so was training.

He made a note to look into a hiring push—ads, the works if necessary. They might need to have more shipping visit star systems that had the tech basis and excess manpower to take on the jobs or allow more civilian subcontractor work. He wasn't sure if either or both ideas were viable.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He'd been toying with the idea of nixing shipping the BC weapon mounts and munitions. Send only the hyperdrive, power train, sensors, and such. Horatio could get the basic hulls together, then have them do a builder's trial for just the engines, hyperdrive and such on a run to Antigua with the convoys. Here Vestri and the yard could fit them out and finish them off. He had no problem throwing together additional fitting and drawing yards here in Antigua. They could do something about the manpower later.

But the time involved. The transit time … the idea of sending out a half-finished unarmed
untested
warship out … that bothered him. He shook his head. No, it was best to keep on the path they were currently on. He'd tuck the idea away in case Horatio's team surprised him and saturated their production, but he doubted it would come to that.

Two squadrons by the end of the year despite his pouching for Amadeus. Speaking of which … he checked the status board. The
Justice
division was already en route to Protodon, another division would be en route once they graduated the basic trials, and the third would be working up by the next quarter. They still needed to keep enough back to cover Pyrax now that
Bismark
was anchored in Antigua. Phil was getting rather pointed about his comments in that regard. So be it.

That left one squadron of heavy cruisers however. Not a lot, he wished he had more like he did with just about every ship class. He was going to have to send them out soon to back up
John Paul Jones
and sweep the southwestern loop once more. And of course since the squadron was to be broken up in penny packets or singletons, they weren't where they needed to be, together concentrated as a squadron. Together training as a homogeneous unit. His nostrils flared.

Amadeus would want that squadron, as would Phil. Hell,
he
wanted it too, but he also wanted a force to head east from Pyrax to open up a second prong of attack on Horath to undo their march of conquest or at least break up their space assets until Jersey's troops could be brought in to finish the job. He rubbed his temples again. But that meant he'd need an able commander for that, someone bumped up to flag rank. Someone with experience, which was in short supply or at least concentrated as much as possible in Protodon.

He really should leave the planning and skull session up to Phil and his staff, but he couldn't help himself. Carriers were looking increasingly important in the coming conflict, so CEVs would be a big part of the eastern force—a cruiser division, maybe a BC division as well. That was a bit disconcerting to some like Amadeus he knew. Amadeus was a battle line officer, someone who'd trained on warships such as cruisers and even capital ships like dreadnaughts and battle moons. He had no experience with carrier ops; Admiral Irons had checked his file. Not since a brief stint as a boat bay officer during his midshipman cruise. He shook his head.

That was going to be interesting for the Neochimp. Could he adapt if he sent him more carriers like
Argus
? He'd damn well better! John shook his head at the perverse trend of his thoughts. It was true however. He'd better keep an eye out for carrier commanders though, not just those who could handle the shipboard duties but also the fighter jocks. He sat down and tapped out another memo.

With Renee tainted it looked increasingly likely that Trajan was going to head back to Pyrax to get a star and then take on the eastern raiding force. He plucked at his lip thoughtfully.

“Admiral, you are running late,” Protector reminded him.

“I know.”

The A.I. gauged the short answer. Based on the tone and his access to the admiral's vitals, he knew the admiral was fully aware of playing “hooky.” He didn't seem guilty or bothered by the distraction, however. The A.I. wasn't sure how to get him back on schedule, however. The A.I. made a throat clearing sound.

The admiral pushed himself away from the desk and exhaled slowly. He got the hint. “Bump my schedule again. Send my apologies if necessary. What are we coming up on?” he asked, looking up and then to the A.I.'s image on his HUD.

“You are needed to key the capital ship component line for the evening run. Commander Sindri's meeting was scheduled, but he's running late as well since he's tied up with the carrier run so I sent an email rescheduling it. Governor Randall has requested a word as well, and the delegates are also asking for input on various things. The cabinet has made a couple requests for input at various times as well.”

The admiral sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hated how he'd been saddled with the politics as well as his normal duty. They were uncomfortably eating into his time more and more. “Did they say what is on the agenda?”

“No, sir.”

The admiral frowned. Had Sprite been involved she would have done some judicious detective work with the staffs involved to get a feel for the situation. Most likely it was a hand-holding thing. They wanted to get to know him better—to learn about him and how his mind worked. Heaven forbid he get another idiot that wanted to pose for pictures let alone an autograph! He shook his head in disgust. He had more important things to do than kiss babies and political creatures asses.

“Find out what it is about. Let them know I'm running a bit behind. If it can wait, it'll keep, or we'll do a teleconference again. I can't afford to burn up the transit time again to go to and from the damn planet.”

“Understood, Admiral.”

“Handle it.”

“Yes, sir. May I remind you that you are president-pro-tempt? This sort of thing goes with the job unfortunately, sir.”

“Then I need a chief of staff. Oh, wait, I've got one. What
is
Sprite doing?”

Protector sent out a ping to the commander as well as a transcript of the current conversation. Sprite sent an exasperated module back and then the A.I. felt her at the outer office firewall. He opened a port to let her in.

Sprite judged his mood based on the dialog. He was peevish, which made her calculate that he wanted attention, support, and someone to bounce thoughts off of. A sounding board and he couldn't trust April obviously. “I
was
busy with about a hundred and four other things actually, including guest lecture of an introduction to A.I. history class at the Antigua Prime College,” Sprite said in disgust. “What can I do for you, Admiral?”

“My schedule. These meetings dirt side …”

“I can look into them, but it is a bit late for that since your office has already agreed to it,” Sprite admitted.

“Damn it,” the admiral grunted mildly.

“But I'm sending an email now to a couple of my contacts,” Sprite replied, flashing out a form email to a few staffers she knew. She put emphasis on how busy the admiral was at the moment in the missive with a slightly disguised probe about the agenda and who would be attending. “Emails away. They may take their time getting back to me since they are organics. On a related subject, I see you are behind schedule. Again.”

“I've had a lot on my mind,” Admiral Irons replied gruffly, rubbing his brow.

“I guess so. It has been quite a workload, and it's only going to get worse the bigger the Federation gets I suppose. Are you saying you need time off?”

“No, just …,” the admiral waved a frustrated hand. “Something.”

“Okay. Something,” Sprite replied. She sent a ping to Protector to get him to release the admiral's vitals. “Frustrated much?”

He stopped himself then snorted almost explosively. “Just a bit. You know how much I hate the politics,” he said.

“And certain politicians,” Sprite replied, observing his reaction. “Which is one of the reasons you are procrastinating. And you are worried about the planetoid?”

“Yes,” the admiral replied tightly. “Aren't you?”

“It's not going anywhere, Admiral. They have access to its contents, but we don't know what they are. Obviously something good and techs to go with it. I pity the nonhuman techs.”

“I do too,” the admiral agreed softly.

“Why don't you get a move on to the replicators, make the circuit, while Protector and I as your faithful minions work on restructuring your schedule. A stop by the college might buck you up a bit. You can field calls while in transit or take a nap or catch up on email. Whatever suits your mood.”

The admiral exhaled slowly as he rose to his feet. “Maybe.”

“Good. And you can talk to Vestri about antimatter later.”

“Antimatter?”

“Judging from all the search queries he's made recently, I believe that's what's bugging him,” Sprite answered.

“Oh.” The admiral frowned thoughtfully as he made his way past the yeoman acting as a Cerberus in his outer office. The Veraxin chattered, but he waved the bug back to his saddle. “I'm on my way to the usual circuit. Let me know if anything vital comes in.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Yeoman Uma Lajoy replied. “You have a lot of mail piling up,” she indicated the pile of paper mail then the message board in front of her with a truehand.

“Read it. Get some help if you have to. Scan the paper material. Keep the hard copy I suppose, until I can figure something else to do with it. Get with Commander Sprite to figure out a form answer for the basic stuff. Wasn't this set up prior?”

“I'm new, sir,” the yeoman reminded him.

He nodded in understanding. His last morning yeoman had died in an unfortunate air car accident while on leave ground side, and two others had been promoted. Onj'll had graduated college and OCS to become an ensign. “Then someone somewhere needs to bring you up to speed better,” he said, knowing the shot would go home to where it was most needed.

“Gee thanks. Make that one hundred and
five
things for me to do,” Sprite answered in his ear dryly. That made the admiral chuckle as he continued on his way out.