Embers Snippet 3

 So, I am a bit under the weather, stomach bug or something bit me hard. That sucks. I'm trying to keep up with my Christmas projects anyway.

Anyway, on to the snippet!

Chapter 3

 

Phi Sector Capital

 

Captain Senior Grade Vince Perry Junior felt no comfort at returning to the capital. Sure, there was a fleet around the star system, a shipyard, millions, possibly billions of people … but they were just targets. They were all just targets these days.

Dead men walking he thought bleakly, eyes ignoring the sight of an orbital fortress nearby.

“Sir, we've been redirected to a parking buoy,” the communication tech on duty in the bridge said almost apologetically.

“Feed the frequency to navigation. Plot a course and get us there,” the captain said with a nod.

He should be letting his junior officers take the milk run through the star system. They needed the seasoning, some more so than others. But he hadn't been able to resist the urge to see the main screen with his own eyes.

He was aware that the eyes on the bridge were as much watching the show as they were him. That subtle reminder made him sit up straight and keep his professional mask up. They had to keep up appearances after all.

“Engineering has the list ready,” the XO said, sliding into the bridge and up to him. He turned to the Naga and took the tablet without a word. He scanned it and ran the calculation and grunted. Thirty-seven percent. That wasn't good, not good at all. The fleet had been mothballing any ship below 20 percent when he'd last brought in a banged-up ship. That number had bumped up to 25 percent, and later to 30, but still …

Well, times have changed he reminded himself, looking about the star system. There were a lot of banged-up ships out there. He looked down at the tablet and then copied it to his inbox and then handed it back. “Tell them to keep knocking down the list. Every little bit helps.”

“Aye aye, sir. They are on it but are low on supplies,” the Naga stated. “We've scraped what we could together but we're at the bottom of the barrel.”

“Well, we'll see what we can do there,” the captain replied with a nod. Smitty, the quartermaster, had been killed in the last scrape. So had a quarter of the crew. Twenty-four people were still in stasis, and six were still recovering in sickbay or on light duty. They'd won though; otherwise, they wouldn't have been there.

No, that wasn't entirely true, bub. The fleet had run with its tail tucked between its legs entirely too often he reminded himself darkly.

He looked down at his side screen and pulled up the long-range scans and traffic reports. Traffic was a lot less. He wasn't sure the difference from the last time he was there but he could tell it was less. The same for activity around the planet.

He knew his ship was going to be laid up, for how long was the question. He was going to push for her to be kicked loose even if they couldn't get her to 100 percent. Hell, even if they could only get her to 80 percent. Not that he was going to tell them that—unless someone pushed to have the ship mothballed or scrapped.

He'd already heard that new construction had been halted. It was most likely due to the lack of direction and a lack of keys. Or it could be due to fear of a lack of keys and direction he mused quietly.

His eyes narrowed as he checked the repair yard. He could see every slip was full, not a good sign. Some ships were being torn down. It could be that they needed to be torn down to get at a repair, but he doubted it. He could be wrong, but he was pretty sure he wasn't.

Logistics had to be an issue. They could gather material but without keys … he frowned bleakly.

In other words, it was a big mess. Someone needed to do something soon. They were all depressed; hell, he was and he knew it. As far as he knew, neither of his parents had made it out of Sol. He'd had a rough time for a solid week and occasionally felt like crap when they got an updated list of survivors and he saw that his parents weren't on it. So many other people's family weren't either. He wasn't alone.

It just sucked. They were in a hole, but like his father said, you can either keep digging or you can work on finding a way out. He preferred to find a way out over moping and waiting for the enemy to show up. It was just a matter of time before they did; after all, the star system had a heavy naval presence and shipyard. It might be the largest shipyard for ten thousand light years.

<<<*>>>

Admiral Daub Ibdle watched silently as another warship came into the star system. It was something to celebrate, a minor victory that they were still getting any warships back at all. The heavy cruiser had seen better days. His eyes narrowed as he noted the scorching and twisted damage to her port side.

His dumb A.I. assistant pulled up the data on the ship—the Rochester, a Resolution class heavy cruiser. Captain SG Vince Perry Junior was in command. Now there was a name he was familiar with he thought with a gruff nod.

Perry had been a captain JG all of six months ago. Funny how time flies. If anyone was going to come back, of course you could count on it being Perry. He'd won again, despite the odds. His ship was one of two to survive the last battle with the Xenos from their CruRon. Rear Admiral Purpletip and her flagship Tibbers had not made it past the opening engagement according to the logs Rochester had uploaded. Oregon City was still en route; she had suffered more damage than Rochester but had insisted that her sister ship forge on ahead.

It was unusual for Captain Perry to abandon another wounded ship. He must have had his reasons though.

Most likely they'd dissolve the CruRon on paper and move the survivors over to fill vacancies in other units.

Spirits knew there were enough places to put them the admiral thought darkly.

“Sir, incoming call from BuShips. Admiral Bulge is on the line,” his A.I. reported.

“Put her through,” he said.

“Are you seeing this?” the Gashg demanded.

“By this I think you mean Rochester?”

“Yeah. The damage … no frame damage reported but …,” Daub didn't say anything; he hadn't seen the actual damage reports. “Can that man ever bring back a ship in one piece?”

Daub cocked his head. Yard dogs like Bulge were good but rather fixated on ships coming back in one piece. The fact that the heavy cruiser had come back at all was a minor miracle as far as he was concerned. Too many ships from that battle hadn't come back at all. “To be fair, he kept this one intact a lot longer than I thought given the battles they'd fought in the past year,” Daub said dryly. “According to our records …,” he paused as his A.I. brought up the relevant files, “Rochester has been in ten battles in the past year. She just commissioned what, eighteen months ago? She is a survivor.”

“Well, 37 percent damage? That's nearly half her drive, force emitters, and weapons!”

“And the other half is still functional. I'm curious; have they been making repairs?”

“Of course!”

Daub nodded sagely. Too many ship companies were giving up hope and just trying to make do or whatever. That showed that Perry still had leadership potential. “Ah, so, it was a lot worse. Good. I believe with your usual efficiency you can get them any supplies they need to bring that number down even lower.”

“Well, not any supplies,” the Gashg stated. “There are limits, especially now. We are short across the board; you know that. Munitions are particularly tight. We're cannibalizing ships to get parts for the survivors.”

Daub's face tightened. He nodded once. They all knew the score. “See what you can do for them.”

“I will. Trust me, even I know we need veteran units out there. Now more than ever.”

Daub nodded as the Gashg signed off. That was the current mentality, that if they were fighting the Xenos elsewhere the Xenos wouldn't come to the capital or other major systems. It was … wrong. Unfortunately, dead wrong.

Yes it was good to engage and stop the enemy. But no one won a war fighting on the defensive. They needed to get on the offense and destroy the bastards. He had that itch, that feeling that they were about to get sucker punched badly. He hated that feeling because he knew it was going to happen. The enemy was attritioning his force while they just grew more ships.

Something had to be done. What was the big question.

<<<*>>>