“Weapons, aye.”
Helm, jump when you are ready. Gunner, get ready.”
The helmsman punched a few buttons and the ship started moving.
Chief Blankenship practically screamed over the intercom, “Bridge, Sensors! Hold your position!”
“Helm, all stop!”
The captain stabbed at the intercom button and shouted, “Chief B, what is it?”
“Captain, I have comms with the Voracious. They want to know if we need any assistance.”
A look of relief washed across LCDR Timmons’ face. “Chief, put him through.”
“Ed, this is Clint. I'm coming your way. You look like you could use some help.”
“I sure could, Clint. If you have any missiles left, would you brush these guys off for me? I’ll have my Sensor Chief send you the plot.”
“Sure, Ed, send me the plot. I’ll need about five minutes to get in range.”
Through the frigate’s long-range communications, the Shadow Leader learned of the destruction of the entire 27th Combat Fleet. They were destroyed by a massive and totally unexpected Human presence. How could they have brought such a force to bear? They outnumbered the 27th Fleet by close to 100 to 1.
Shadow Leader M’Trang prepared himself to face the Elders. He would, undoubtedly, be drummed out of the Shadow Force. If he were fortunate, he would be sentenced to a quick and merciful execution. If not, he would have to live in shame and take his own life. His honor was past.
If he were to be disgraced, he would at least take this Human ship with him. A small reinforcement force was headed his way. They would be sufficient to conduct a proper cordon and search to flush out this troublesome Human ship. He knew it was the last act he would ever command.
Alarms sounded on the K’Rang ship. M’Trang scanned his sensors and saw a second Human ship appear at the far edge of his sensor field, closing in fast. He ordered his small fleet to move to intercept this new threat. They were all too slow and too damaged to respond effectively. When four missiles appeared on the screen, M’Trang knew they were doomed.
He watched helplessly as ineffective defensive fire failed to stop the inbound missiles. To their credit, M’Trang and the bridge crew stayed at their posts and continued fighting their ship. The missiles flew unimpeded into the four ships and obliterated them in massive matter/antimatter explosions. M’Trang’s last thought was that at least he would die a hero, not live as a disgraced commander.
“Clint, I owe you a beer or fifty for that. You pulled our fat out of the fire with that. Thank you,” responded an obviously elated Edgar Timmons.
“You’re welcome, Ed. I had all these extra missiles left over and just didn’t know what else to do with them. Come on, I’ll race you back to the frontier.”
“Helm, bring us alongside the Voracious and take us to the frontier. I think we have worn out our welcome here.”
As the Vigilant broke out of the nebula they got a full view of the carnage they had wreaked. Broken and burnt out hulls of K’Rang warships were everywhere. They joined up with the Voracious, and the two ships sped out of the area and off to the frontier. Sensors activated a secure laser link between the two ships so that they could exchange data with a low probability of detection. It was a common procedure when two ships were returning from hostile territory. If one ship didn’t make it the data still could get out.
“Ed, I see you were busy here. I count a command ship, 12 capital ships, seven frigates, and an armed support ship. That’s not too shabby. I got a planetary defense ship, three merchant ships and your four playmates.”
“Good for you, Clint. What caused you to come over our way?”
“We ran out of targets in our patrol sector. Everyone went to ground. We watched a battle fleet coming our way but it turned around and went back the way it came. We heard all the excitement over this way and came to investigate when it got quiet over here. We figured we’d either come give you a hand or take out whoever got you. We got the recall notice and were just about to head back when our sensor chief picked you out of the nebula.”
“Well, I’m damned glad you did. We were about to have to do something desperate. We were completely out of missiles, out of tricks, and out of ideas.”
“Glad we could be of assistance, Ed. I’m signing off now. I’m hungry and the cook has made Italian.”
The captain looked over at Chief Watson and said, “Chief, keep us on patrol rations until we cross the frontier. Bring everyone down from battle stations and get us back on normal watch rotations.”
Chief Watson announced to the crew to stand down from battle stations and ordered the starboard watch to their stations.
The captain looked over at Kelly, “Exec, take the conn. I’ll be in my cabin until supper. Wake me when it's ready.”
In two hours, it was time for supper. Kelly knocked on LCDR Timmons’ door. “Captain, supper is ready. The crew is already eating.”
The captain’s groggy voice came through the door. “I’ll be right out.”
Timmons came out for supper in a few minutes, somewhat rested and freshly showered, “Have you eaten yet, Exec?”
“No, sir, I was waiting for Chief Billings to finish and relieve me. Oh, here he comes now.”
“What’s for supper, Chief?”
“Cookie made fried chicken, greens, mashed potatoes and cream gravy, Captain.”
“Sounds good, Chief, take the conn. The Exec and I shall be dining.”
“Aye aye, sir. I have the conn.”
Kelly and Timmons went through the chow line. Cookie had outdone himself. Even though he was limited to patrol rations, he was a miracle worker with basic foodstuffs. The fried chicken was crispy, hot, and tasty. The greens were spiced up with some sort of sauce made from vinegar and mustard. The mashed potatoes were fluffy and accompanied by a smooth peppered gravy. It was a wonderful meal. At the end, Cookie brought over two servings of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream.
The captain looked up and said, “Cookie, I did give the order for patrol rations until we crossed the frontier. Did you not get the word?”
Cookie’s face took on a look of astonishment. “Sir? Yes, sir, I did get the word. Everything you’ve eaten was patrol rations. The chicken was from cans. The crust was crushed crackers. The greens were also canned. The potatoes were from flakes. The gravy was from the chicken fat salvaged from the cans and ultra pasteurized milk. The cobbler was from canned peaches and crackers. Even the ice cream was from ultra pasteurized milk. There’s nothing in the regs that says I can’t embellish the ingredients a bit. The crew does seem to appreciate it.”
A smile came over LCDR Timmons’ face and he said, “So do I, Cookie, so do I.”
Chapter Thirteen
In five more days, the two ships approached Antares. Both ships were ordered to the Space Dock for debriefings and inspection. The captain allowed the Voracious to go first in appreciation for their rescue. The Vigilant followed and the two ships wound up docked side by side.
Timmons and Kelly made their way through the space dock to Admiral Craddock’s office. When they reached the cypher door, Captain Hasselrode was waiting for them. He grabbed LCDR Timmons’ hand and pumped it up and down.
“Damn good job, Ed. Damn good job.”
He reached over and shook Kelly’s hand.
“Come on, you two. The admiral wanted me to bring you two in directly.”
Captain Hasselrode practically pushed the two of them ahead of him. They came into Admiral Craddock’s office and he rose from his desk to meet them at the door. He shook their hands and motioned them to chairs.
