The Alexanderov Federation

#2 - Growing Pains

By Robert Huntingdon

Chapter Nine - A time for peace...

Thazzdss and Goodman met formally at the center table, where all the appropriate documents were all laid out, awaiting merely their signatures. Because of the distances involved, nobody from Kitjef (much less Orion Prime) could get here quickly enough to participate in the ceremony, so the local head diplomat was standing in for Babcock, and Goodman was acting in Alexanderov's stead. Thazzdss, of course, was acting in the people's stead. The former monarch was already tried and executed for crimes against the people, as was most of his family, though a few of the youngest hatchlings were deemed innocent bystanders and set free.

Though of course there was plenty of pomp and circumstance, in the end, the effects of the ceremony were rather straightforward. The former Raas Hegemony (now renamed the Raas Republic) and the Federation mutually surrendered to each other, and the war ended with a quiet whimper.

With that document out of the way, the next order of business was to bring the Raas fully into the galactic community. Babcock hadn't been lying when she said getting the Raas into the Orion Senate would be difficult at best. Even if the New Orions had abstained (and that wasn't too likely) the Federation and her allies might still have been unable to get the bill passed. But there was another way.

The second document signed, Thazzdss stood up and lifted a glass from the tray of the server who'd been standing right behind him. As soon as he'd made the first move, all other attendees followed suit. Since the ceremony was on the Raas Homeworld the alcohol was a brew of Saurian descent, which tasted to Goodman like a cross between a strong brandy and a very sweet champagne but with a kick and a half. Every human present had taken an antidote in advance. "A toast!" cried Thazzdss, in deference to human tradition. "To the joining of our peoples in an alliance that will never be broken! Today the Raas join the humans, the Rhea, and the Grendarl as the latest members of the Alexanderov Federation. With past mistakes behind us, today we begin to move forward in our shared goals, to crush all who would oppress us and all who seek to destroy us, and to befriend all who would stand with us as we seek to remold the galaxy. The Antarans are weakened, but not weak. It will take time, effort, and determination, but today we have reason to hope that someday soon we may be able to remove the greatest threat to the future prosperity of our peoples the universe has ever known! Today, the future is born!"

Despite the new developments on the Raas frontier, Admiral Natovski was still under orders to take her newly-born Fourth fleet into Psilon territory to help defend against the Silicoid aggression there. Though help would now be on its way much faster than originally hoped, it would probably not get there in time to help with the first round of the Silicoid invasion. So it would be up to her to provide the Psilons with the help they needed to defend their holdings. The counterattack would probably fall to Goodman however.

Well, perhaps if she did a good enough job she'd get to stay out for awhile and Goodman could go help Adunel. That was a worthy goal to shoot for. And if not, she was an admiral now, even if she did get consigned back to a defensive position she would not be demoted unless she really messed up big time. As long as she continued to do her job well, she was now a part of an elite club with rather limited membership, and that had plenty of political and personal advantages should she decide to pursue them after retirement.

Acting-Commodore Burke looked up. "Admiral, the Nimitz and her escorts have arrived from Tamarian. The rest of the Fourth reports they are ready for departure as soon as you reach the Nimitz."

"Very well, Commodore, I formally hand over command of the Wasilkoff defense forces to you." He saluted and she returned it, and without glancing backwards she strode off the command deck of the primary defense orbital, which had been her home for the last two years, for the last time.

In the infirmary aboard the Victory, Commander Matthew Roberts finally began to stir. Though the hospital ships had found him in time, it had taken about eighteen hours of intense surgery to repair the injuries he'd sustained, and since then he'd been in a coma that the doctors weren't sure if he'd ever come out of. By his side sat his wife, but her eyes were dry. She'd cried herself out already, and now she simply came by several times a day to speak to him for a few minutes and hope for a change in his condition, to no avail... until now.

"Doctor Ruvostol!" she cried, "I think he's waking up!"

With the war now officially over and the vast majority of his patients already checked out one way or the other, Doctor Ruvostol wasn't far away, and he quickly came running. Behind him trailed a few of the more curious nurses in his unit, and since they had little better to do, he didn't countermand them. As he arrived at the Commander's bedside, Roberts' movements became more insistent, then faded. "He's still out, Commander. It's a good sign though. Perhaps he will come out of it soon."

Commander Roberts felt her eyes welling up again. To have her hopes dashed again was quickly proving more than she could bear. She leaned over and kissed her husband on the forehead and stood to leave. And his eyes snapped open. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn't say anything, afraid she was merely imagining this. His eyes glanced around quickly, taking in his surroundings, and then, seeing himself in familiar surroundings, he relaxed and focused on his wife. "Hi honey," he said weakly.

Clarissa Roberts began to bawl uncontrollably as she hugged her husband desperately, so happy to have him back from the dead.

A month after the ceremony and the week of festivities on the Raas Homeworld concluded, Goodman was back in his office preparing his fleet for departure. He'd been able to make use of the Raas shipyards to repair much of the exterior damage to his ships, but fixing his PD screen's weaponry would have to wait until he could reach a more established Federation base. It wasn't a matter of trust, of course. Thazzdss and his people had quickly proven that they did have the true herpatra their former leaders had so sorely lacked. Indeed the first Raas-produced ships armed with the latest in Federation technology were already under construction. But unfortunately the locally available materials combined with the available construction equipment produced a product that was just too different, so producing replacements for his ships damaged weapons would not be possible without unreasonable delay while he remained in the former Hegemony's territories. Fortunately, a large shipment of replacement weapons intended for replacement defensive emplacements was in storage on Wasilkoff, which would now partly be used to repair his ships as well. Plus he had to replace his fighter contingents, and again Raas equipment just wasn't compatible yet. Within a few years the Raas would no doubt be flying at his side, and a fearsome opponent their combined strengths would make for any opponent foolish enough to take them on.

But he couldn't wait three years. Too many enemies of the Federation already were attacking his allies, and no matter how talented she proved to be Natovski simply did not have the firepower to take on the Silicoid planetary defenses. Gretskov would probably not need assistance as well, given his skill, so he wasn't sure what the Ninth would end up doing, but they were not in a position to get to Silicoid territory in anywhere remotely near a reasonable period of time.

His screen chirped at him, indicating a high priority call from Kitjef, from fleet maintenance headquarters. Who could be calling me at this hour? he thought as he noted the local time at the capital on Kitjef was well after midnight. "Receive," he said, opening the channel to his mystery caller, who quickly appears on screen. "Admiral Del Rey, good evening. I hope nothing in my latest communiqué has been what kept you up this late."

"Unfortunately, yes it has, though it is likely not your fault. We've been studying the specs on your ships and the repair efforts you've been undergoing. Admiral, we've determined that a significant amount of your equipment appears to be non-standard. While the results are significantly above-spec, the variances have played havoc with our ability to ship proper repair supplies for your ships to Wasilkoff. It seems your engineer on your ship, one Commander Mark Tannert, has been coming up with a large number of minor 'tweaks' that have greatly improved your ships' capabilities, but for some reason none of these have made their way into the general fleet, and I need to find out why. Several of them are absolutely brilliant."

"I am not surprised by that, he has been with me for over five years now and has proven himself time and again. But I can't tell you much more than the basics about his improvements. He cleared them all with me of course before he had them applied to other ships in the fleet, but frankly most of them were well over my head. I can call him here if you wish, you can ask him about these improvements yourself."

"Please do, as quickly as possible."

"Very well. Hold please." Goodman turned to his desk and pressed a button for an intercom. "Commander Tannert, please report to my office on the double."

"Be right there, Admiral," came the immediate reply. Goodman started to turn back to Admiral Del Rey, only to have his door chime for somebody requesting entrance. "Enter!" he commanded, and the doors opened to admit Tannert. "That was fast."

"I was already on the bridge, Admiral."

"How fortunate. Commander, this is Admiral Del Rey. He has some questions about the improvements you've made to the fleet over the last few years."

"Admiral."

"Commander. I was just telling Goodman that your improvements were absolutely brilliant in many ways, but they've been playing havoc with our repair supply scheduling. Yet when I look into the specs you sent, in every case when your ships are not to standard specs they are a minimum of 20% over baseline, and often 40 to 50%. With such improvements over baseline specs, I cannot understand why your specs have not become our specs."

"Permission to speak freely, sir? I'm not sure you will like the answer, Admiral."

"Granted, and I'll take my chances."

"Very well sir. I submitted several of my early designs, back shortly after the end of the Grendarl Wars. Every last one was an improvement over baseline specs, none particularly major, perhaps, but each addressed a specific weakness that cost lives during that war. Every last one was rejected out-of-hand, with no explanation. I attempted to seek an explanation and was ignored. Faced with no further options to help the rest of the fleet, I chose to go to Goodman to see if I could try some of the designs on our ships. He allowed me to do so and I have continued to do so ever since. Occasionally I have submitted further designs, but I stopped over three years ago as I continued to receive exactly the same treatment as before. I'm not sure why, but it appears that one or more people among your staff absolutely insist on any improvements to specs coming through R&D rather than from field engineers."

"This is insane! Admiral, can you live without Tannert for awhile? I'd like to have him here on Kitjef while I try to get to the bottom of this."

"I suppose I can. All of his improvements were actually performed by the ship's engineers on each ship, they are all well trained in his modifications. I doubt many are capable of designing further improvements, but they should be able to repair their ships to his specs just fine."

"Good. I want Tannert on one of your high-speed shuttles to Kitjef within the day, Admiral. I presume you have one to spare."

Goodman grimaced. Even on a high-speed shuttle and taking the most direct route Tannert would still be traveling for nearly a month. And those ships were not designed for comfort, they were designed to get a small number of people moved to a new location at extreme speed. While it was a significant improvement over the three months it would take him to get there with the fastest of his capital ships, a month trip in one of those would not be pleasant, still, it would be nice to finally know why his friend's designs were never accepted by the fleet at large. But there was a small problem. "I only have one to begin with."

"What? You should have five... no wait, that's right, we had that mix-up on the shipment that was supposed to be in Tamarian for you during the latest refits. I will have replacements sent to Wasilkoff immediately, they should arrive shortly after you do. Tannert, load every bit of information you can cram into that shuttle's computers about your work over the years, and get on your way as soon as you can."

"Aye sir."

With colony ships already on the way to Alpha Centauri, Epsilon Eridani, Beta Centauri and Proxima, Captain Rosetovsky and the Dragonfly had no new frontiers to explore this side of Sol / XB-17. So, despite the risk, he an his crew decided that they needed to create some new frontiers. After sneaking by the Guardian in Sol without being detected, they had taken the jump lane on the other side of the system to see what was out there. Though they all knew the risks, it was worth trying. Hopefully there would be another race to make contact with on the other side. If not, at least the Federation would know whether trying to clear the Sol Guardian out of the way was worth the cost or not.

In about two weeks, they would know for sure.

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