Fleet Action (wc-3) by William Forstchen (100 books to read in a lifetime txt) 📕

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?"

Jason could see that he wasn't going to win but still didn't know what to do.

"I want to rejoin the Confederation fleet with my ship."

"Impossible," Kruger snapped. "I need you here, and here you're staying."

"Look, son," Richards said, suddenly serious. "It's a ten day transit back to Earth at full speed. You'll arrive back to the inner worlds with just twenty fighters on board."

"None," Kruger growled. "Most of them are mine anyhow, and I'm requisitioning the rest."

"All right then, none, and no munitions, because even if Kruger did let you go I doubt he'd spare one IFF missile out of his stores to refit you."

Kruger nodded and said nothing.

"The battle shaping up back there, wherever it is they're