The Emperor turned away back to his grandson.
"Your plan is set, then?"
"Yes, my Emperor. The fleet will head towards the frontier at flank speed. Refueling tankers will accompany them so that we may move swiftly without need of deploying fuel scoops. The Second Fleet of the Claw, with four of our older carriers, will join us before we reach the frontier and make the first penetration, thus shielding our main fleet as long as possible. The Fourth Fleet of the Claw, with three carriers, will sortie towards the Landreich to pin down any forces they might have there, preventing them from shifting against our flank. The First Fleet of the Claw, with three carriers, will make up the reserve. The other carriers have been stripped of their crews and pilots for the Fifth Fleet and will be held in reserve."
"That is ten carriers," the Emperor said quietly.
"You know the shortage of trained pilots has become serious. Either our best pilots went with our new carriers or else the new fleet would be manned by pilots with no combat experience. It will be a year before we have enough fully trained pilots and fighters to bring the older reserve carriers back to operational strength.
The Emperor nodded grimly.
"So let it be," he said, turning away. "Now bring me victory."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Weary with exhaustion, Captain Jason Bondarevsky strode across the landing field towards the command post with Admiral Richards behind him. Stepping onto the veranda he coldly eyed the two Landreich guards at the door.
"I'm here to see Kruger."
"We have no orders to let you pass, sir."
"To hell with your orders, I want to see that son of a bitch now," and he moved to shoulder his way past the guards.
Caught by surprise they backed up slightly and then physically moved to block the doorway, one of them grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Listen, sir, don't make me get rough about this," the guard snapped.
"Get the hell out of my way right now, mister."
"Hold it, Jason," and he looked back at Richards. "They're just following orders."
The guards looked to Richards with some relief. They obviously knew that Kruger would skin them alive if anyone got past. They knew as well who it was they were trying to stop, and even if he was Confederation, he was also a first class hero.
"Sir, if you stay put, I'd go in and get my captain," a sergeant growled, coming out of the doorway to the aid of the two guards.
"Well, damn it, go get him," Jason snapped, and the sergeant turned and went into the building.
Jason paced up and down the length of the veranda angry at everything, his mood made worse by the searing heat of the Hell Hole. He could feel the moisture draining out of his body, barely cooling his skin before evaporating.
He looked back at one of the guards.
"You know something, corporal, this planet of yours truly sucks."
The corporal showed the faintest of smiles.
"I fully agree," he whispered.
No longer able to get mad at the man, Jason turned away.
"Admiral Richards, Captain Bondarevsky?"
Jason turned back to see a very young captain, wearing commando fatigues and barely out of his teens, in the doorway. Though the man was shorter than him by a good half a foot, and skinny as a rail, Jason could tell from his eyes that he was deadly.
"President Kruger is expecting you, sir, come on in."
Jason nodded, grateful to be stepping out of the blazing heat of the twin suns and into the dark cool corridor. He followed the captain down into the below ground bunker, the captain leading him through the blast doors into Kruger's small and austere office. The captain withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Kruger looked up from his desk
"Care for a cold one?" and he motioned to a refrigerator.
"Don't mind if I do," Richards said, and he went over to the refrige and pulled out a beer.
Jason looked at the Admiral angrily and then back at Kruger who sat behind his desk, smiling.
"Well, young captain, out with it."
"We monitored that signal reporting the confirmed loss of Tarawa, Bannockburn, and Normandy," he continued. "Just who the hell do you think you are to do that?"
"Last time I checked I was president of the Landreich son. Just who the hell are you?"
"An officer in the . . ." he paused. He was, in fact, not an officer in Confederation at all but rather on leave, serving the Landreich forces.
"You are under my orders, young captain, and need you or not, I'll put your ass in the clink till this planet turns into an ice ball if you ever talk like that to me again."
Jason stood silently, still seething with anger.
"How about that beer, Jason?" and Richards came back to his side, holding an open container.
Jason stared at Richards, expecting support, but Richards merely smiled.
"But the emergency decree. Three-ninety-fourA is mobilizing all fleet personnel, and that includes me and my ship," Jason finally replied.
"Jason, we are officially listed as missing in action, presumed dead," Richards replied, "and I think our host intends to keep it that way."
Jason looked back at Kruger.
"I have your carrier and the others," Kruger replied. "We can make this happen one of two ways, young sir. Either you continue to command your ship under Landreich colors or one of my people will. I'd rather have you do it. You know the ship better than anyone else, and besides that, you're damn good. You managed to bring her out in one piece.
"No thanks to you."
Kruger smiled.
"You're here, aren't you? Therefore, any effort expended on my part to pull you out would have been a waste."
Jason felt ready to explode again. He had made a fifteen day run out, pursued all the way to the frontier Bannockburn, the only Stealth light recon ship in the fleet was finally turned around and sent back on auto pilot with Paladin cramming into a light shuttle sent over from Tarawa. The momentary delay created by the supposed counter attack had gotten them through the final jump with a very angry Paladin cursing the entire universe over the loss of his ship,
He had not been able to snatch more than two hours' sleep at a stretch throughout the entire retreat and all he really wanted now was for someone at whom to vent his rage for being left out in the cold after doing his mission. A barroom brawl might even serve the bill, and then a good drink followed by a long sleep. And beyond that, there was still the pain of losing Hunter.
Richards, without waiting for the offer from Kruger, settled down on a sagging and thread bare sofa, which obviously doubled as Kruger's bed, and took a long pull on his beer.
"You know something, Kruger," Richards said, "I got holy hell over the fact that you hijacked that destroyer from my squadron and went gallivanting off."
"Vance, that was thirty years ago."
"Well, I got a reprimand in my file thanks to you, and wound up a desk jockey in intelligence.
"Consider that beer as payment then. You most likely would have had your butt blown off by now if I hadn't worked your transfer for you like that. There are very few old destroyer skippers floating around. Besides, last I heard you loved intelligence work."
Richards chuckled and held up the container in salute and then looked back at Jason.
"Settle down, son, the old man did the right thing. He didn't have the assets to pull us out, it was that simple. You did a damn masterful job getting out on your own. So damn good I think Kruger here owes you a decoration."
"I hereby award you the Order of Nova with diamonds and promote you to commodore," Kruger said sarcastically. "My adjutant will send you the award and paperwork when he gets the time. It's a nice looking piece of tin, you'll like it. Does that settle it?"