Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (9 page)

Hardly, she thought with a snort.

Cynthia glanced her way and then shook her head. “We'll be yesterday's news soon enough. They are getting their dander up, aren't they?” she asked rhetorically.

“It's all BS,” Lieutenant Silverfish grumbled. He stroked his whiskers, ears flat. “Seriously, to get all pumped up … don't they have anything better to do?”

“Apparently not.”

“Why get upset? They've got enough industry down there; you'd think they'd actually be happy about the work and less competition!” Cynthia said.

“Apparently not,” Shelby replied dryly. Her crew had a lot of cadets and trainee recruits along for the short ride to Gaston and then on to Pyrax. The big ship was rather crowded. They were still waiting on the last shuttle to dock. It was filled with even more recruits.

“ETA?” she asked, looking over to the CIC rating.

“Unchanged, ma'am. Ten minutes out,” the Veraxin star sailor replied.

The captain nodded. “Good.”

“I thought they'd send back our people. Fat chance of that. Oh well,” Cynthia grumbled.

Shelby snorted. She wished Zeb her former XO, Conrad her weapons officer, and Oz her former assistant chief engineer the best in their future endeavors whatever they turned out to be. Both had been sent off as prize crew officers on the captured freighter
Charleston Lake Folly
. Apparently the powers that be had decided not to be bothered replacing them. So,
Prometheus
like the other ships in the sector was running short-handed.

Well, not quite, she thought, glancing at the rating who was giving a small group of students a crash course on the bridge. They had plenty of hands on board, but they were untrained hands. Some had some basic training from the naval recruiters, and she shuddered to think about what the cadets thought. She'd made it plain that they were students and were hands off though. No matter how undermanned her ship was she wasn't going to put critical functions in the hands of untested kids! They had the implants; they'd been sworn in—a few even thought of themselves as in their final form. She had other ideas. She'd use them to man light duty watches until she got a handle on them.

Fortunately, she wouldn't need to keep them around for long. A couple months and they'd be in Pyrax and the lot would be off to the academy or boot camp.

“The shuttle jock said the marines had a hell of a time keeping the bird secure, ma'am. Apparently a few of the last minute recruits turned out to be protesters in disguise. Luckily they had to wait for another ride anyway, but he said they tried to force their way aboard. When that didn't work, they took a seat and tried to form a chain in the way.”

“I bet the Marines had fun extracting them,” Cynthia replied with a sniff of disdain.

“Are they in the brig?” the captain asked mildly. She, unlike her crew, was glad the arrest hadn't been filmed by anything up close and personal. She somehow thought Admiral Irons and the other brass would also be grateful. And with events going on elsewhere, the protests might make a minor footnote in the nightly news throughout the sector.

Which was just fine with her. She didn't want or need the fame and notoriety. The very idea! Like she was really running out on them in their “desperate hour of need”! She shook her head in annoyance. She could see everyone was fed, they had shelter, and they had plenty to do to keep them occupied. They were back on their feet. It was time to move on, not feed the greedy lazy bastards who just wanted a handout.

“Yes, ma'am. And boy are they
howling
about the arrest! Doing their constitutional duty indeed!” the rating shook his head indignantly. “They signed up on false pretenses, a Federal offense, and then tried to block a movement. Yeah, they aren't going to like it when the hammer comes down.”

“If
it comes down. Somehow I have my doubts. I understand the governor might give them amnesty. He's not happy we're leaving either,” the skipper replied as she watched the shuttle roll with puffs of expelled gas until she was lined up with the factory tender's port boat bay. “As soon as they are on board, get them settled while we break orbit.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” Cynthia said.

Shelby eyed her. She could tell her XO wasn't thrilled about being drafted and stuck on the bridge. She snorted as her friend squirmed. “Go,” she finally said.

“Ma'am?” Cynthia asked.

“You heard me. Go check engineering and go walk about,” the skipper said dismissively.

“I'm fine,” Cynthia replied with a lifted chin.

“Suit yourself,” the captain replied indifferently. She checked the status board. “Though I see there is a log entry about the starboard emitters coming up slower than they should …”

“I'm on it!” Cynthia said, shooting out of her chair and out of the compartment without hitting the floor. Shelby shook her head and chuckled. Trollop didn't like being stuck on the bridge in the hot seat. She, like her captain, was far more comfortable in engineering fixing day-to-day problems.

“We've received final clearance to leave, ma'am,” the comm rating said. “Ready to break orbit.”

“And not even a thank you from the local government. Well, I suppose we did our jobs out of duty not for the thanks. Pity though,” Shelby drawled.

“Boat bay reports the shuttle is secured, ma'am,” the A.I. stated.

The captain nodded. “Helm, the engines should be warm enough so let's put them to good use. Nav, feed them our course and let's get to Gaston.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” Lieutenant Silverfish stated. He turned back to his station and entered the commands. After a moment the plot changed as the engines woke and the ship began to speed up on a course for the Gaston jump point.

Shelby took one last glance at the muted news feed and then did what she should have done an hour ago. She shut it off.

:::{)(}:::

Courier
UFNDV-005P
arrived in Pyrax with her precious cargo from Epsilon Triangula. She was ushered through the defenses of the star system quickly and as efficiently as possible. Three days later she arrived at the naval annex and docked.

His was a plum command for someone only a few years out of the academy, Lieutenant JG McGlock thought. Even though it was a tiny thing, with a crew of six, she was still his—a gold star on his record that he intended to use to move on to bigger and better things eventually.

For the moment he was still savoring being a ship's captain at such a young age—not that he'd thought it would last long.

Captain Chase McGlock thought his ship had become a bit redundant when he'd gotten news of the ansibles being set up. That had changed when he'd realized his place as a mailman hadn't been as affected as he'd thought. The ansible was good, fast, and efficient, but by no means the only tool to deliver the mail. It was also the least efficient to transfer large amounts of data, so he'd found that he and his crew still served a purpose and wouldn't be banished to the ever growing outer edge of the federation's sphere of space. Instead they ran milk runs every month between ET and Pyrax, with a brief pass through Gaston. Apparently there was a lot of data to transfer between the three star systems.

He had a general idea on what his ship carried in her data banks. Logs of course, information, low priority mail, and of course any in-depth INTEL that resided in the encrypted files. Fine, let ONI keep its secrets he thought as his watched the robotic arms make the final attachments, and his ship was drawn in for final docking to the waiting lit tube.

To his surprise he got a signal that he was going to be boarded. So he pressed past the eager cadets and their gear to get to the lock. He blinked when Commander Garretaj personally boarded with a pair of armed Marines and a navy tech. “Where is it?” the commander demanded, ignoring the usual boarding protocol.

“Um, here, sir,” the captain said, indicating a canister. “I'm guessing this is the 'it' you are referring to?” he asked, resting a hand on the thing.

The commander looked it over and then nodded. “It is indeed. The rest of you can go,” he said, making a hole to allow the cadets to pass.

Captain McGlock frowned. Apparently the news in her databanks were for once secondary in importance to those people anxiously waiting on her arrival. Even her cramped cadets were secondary to the small package that was carefully loaded under heavy guard.

Commander Garretaj indicated the canister. The tech moved in beside him. “We'll need to secure the database along with the antimatter. You take care of this; I'll get the data.”

“Yes, sir,” CPO Hart replied dutifully. He immediately moved in to undo the straps. “Is it really that dangerous?” the CPO asked carefully as he unbuckled the first strap. “Seems like a lot of going on for such a tiny thing.”

Commander Saul Garretaj frowned then shrugged. The news would get out eventually. “Sometimes good things come in small packages. In this case … it's both. Yes, it is that dangerous in the wrong hands or if mishandled. Treat it like a very fragile nuclear bomb. Got it?”

Chief Hart nodded in sudden respect. “I'm an ordinance tech, sir. Now I understand why you didn't have a fuel tech or power room tech on this.”

“Good man. Get it done,” the commander said as he rested a hand on the chief's shoulder briefly.

“Aye aye, sir. We'll see it through to the end.”

“Good. You two stay with him until the delivery is complete. If it goes off track, a squad will be all over you in a moment and your careers are toast. Get it done.”

“Yes, sir!” Corporal V'rr stated.

“Now, Captain, I know your A.I. is transmitting the basic data, but I understand you've got other data in your banks. Commander Teague didn't have anyone available so I've been tasked with getting that download as well,” the commander said, pulling out an oversized flash chip out from his breast pocket. “Lead the way.”

“Aye aye, sir. My crew?”

“They get the usual liberty as soon as I'm out of your hair,” the commander said, indicating they should get moving.

The captain nodded. “Yes sir, they'll appreciate it,” he said. “This way,” he said, pointing to the ship's databanks.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral Yorgi Sienkov stared out the viewing window as the freighter delicately maneuvered on her final approach to the dock. Tugs were nearby, hard on her flanks like sheep dogs herding their massive charge to where she needed to be without any sort of incident.

That was the plan he thought. “Impressive that he's gotten so much done here so quickly,” he said. He'd taken a long hard look at the naval complex and the shipyards. He couldn't help but measure their progress against Bek's.

“He's had help,” Moira Sema, said with a smile as she came into the compartment. She checked him over with a critical eye.

“Well, do I pass?” he teased.

She came over, rolling her hips as she moved, and then touched his lapel. She made a few minor adjustments, stroked a few seams then nodded as her eyes met his. “You're good.”

“Glad that's over with,” he said gruffly. She lingered near him, letting him drink in her scent before she smiled and took a step back. “And may I say you look positively ravishing?” he said with a grin.

“Something along those lines. I was trying to split the difference between drop-dead gorgeous and professional actually,” Moira preened.

“Well, you got both,” he replied wryly. If he was a few decades younger rolled through his mind briefly before he squashed it. It wasn't like age mattered, not anymore. They may not have started with the anti-geriatric treatments but the treatments they'd picked up in Pyrax had done wonders for him. He could only imagine what they were doing to the population back home.

“I think … I'm impressed on one hand but disappointed on another,” Moira said as she eyed the window.

“Both? Again?” the admiral demanded.

“Yes well, I thought he'd do more,” she said. “And I think they should really paint that station something brighter than battleship gray!” She shook her long blue and purple hair. “I mean, honestly! A nice rose red maybe …”

That got the admiral chuckling. She gave him a mock glower, but he wasn't looking at her.

She pursed her lips. It was just as well, she thought, returning her thoughts to normal. A nice bit of levity to break up the tension was good. But she needed to put her best foot forward; they all did.

This was a new stage, a new untested audience. One they had to make the best impression with. Humble, eager to get started, yet poised and ready to lead.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral Irons read the report that the antimatter container that had been found on Epsilon Triangula just prior to the invasion was in Pyrax and under lock and key. He felt a profound sense of relief. He looked up and frowned as a much anticipated ship delicately made dock. That was one less headache he had to worry about he thought. Some in his administration might have thought paying the kids with a shuttle and replicator had been excessive, but he'd backed the Lieutenant Thornson's play. The man had been the one on the spot, and he'd made the right call. And he'd done well keeping it out of the hands of the enemy when the Horathians had hit ET. He made a note for the lieutenant to receive something nice in his next promotion.