When they get the new colonies up and running, we'll see a growing population, thought Beata, pulling up another chart to go over. That population spike wouldn't happen anytime soon, but it would happen. There were thousands of worlds with compatible atmospheres and life that could grow the population. The old regime, the murderous clones, had ignored most of them, wanting to keep their people on the hundred worlds they could keep a close watch on. Despite enticements, there had been very little in the way of immigration to the Nation. It was only a very few years back that the policy of these people had been to exterminate anything that couldn't trace its evolutionary line to Old Earth. What rational being, thinking of its family, would want to put itself in the grasp of such monsters?
The Slarna were still hanging around, though she would have bet that they would all head back to their home stars after the last battle. Their smallish four million ton capital ships had been upgraded beyond their wildest dreams, with more promised. She guessed that greed had overruled the protective instincts of their rulers, if they had any. From what she had seen, they were a most opportunistic species. Still, they brought something to the table. Same with the Gernas, heavy planet dwellers who could handle more gees than most. She still hadn't got a good grasp on their psychology. As long as they fought, and fought well, she would be satisfied with them.
A steady supply of Klassekian sibling groups had also been flowing to her, and soon all of her ships, and those of her allies, would have faster than light com aboard. Those beings had signed on with the Empire with a vengeance. She was guessing that having your one and only world saved from total destruction counted for most of that, though in fact the humans from the Empire hadn't actually rescued them. No, the ancients in that region had performed that duty, translating the entire planet into another dimension in front of a radiation wave from a very close supernova. And then brought them back. Still, they had much to be grateful to the Empire for. Improved tech for one, access to many worlds to settle for another. She, like almost every Imperial commander, was glad to have them.
As far as ground troops went, she had those billions of Klavarta Warriors, some of the most fearsome fighters in the known galaxy. However, she was happy to have some of her own people out here. Every ship had its full complement of Imperial Marines, heavy battle-suited warriors who could fight on planetary surfaces or space. Add to that two Imperial Army armored divisions, and a trio of the heavy infantry version, and she had a ground force she could trust. She wasn't sure about the new regiment Sean was saddling her with. Three battalions, with human Rangers and the Maurid soldiers of their new allies on the other front. She knew about Rangers, and had her own battalion of Naval Commandos for special operations. The Maurids were something new, and while they looked fierce enough to give her nightmares, she had no experience with their combat capabilities. Well, she would figure out how to use them, or they would sit on the sidelines and watch.
“And that's another one we can check off our list,” said Mara, smiling. “No little Cacas hiding out to spring an ambush.”
“Great,” said Beata. So far the Cacas hadn't tried to pull off any of the ambushes they had been springing on Lenkowski and Mgonda. But she was not about to assume there weren't any traps out there, just waiting for her to spring them.
Beata was just about to get up from her seat and head into her sleeping quarters when the com chimed once again. She was just about to ignore it, since it wasn't a priority signal, then decided that she had time for one more before she fell flat from exhaustion.
“Admiral Gerathak is on the com, ma'am,” came the voice of the duty com officer
He's finally here, she thought with a thrill of excitement. Sean had come through to make up one of the things she was lacking, and their Elysium allies had come through as well. “Put him on,” she said, waiting in anticipation for the face of the alien to appear.
“Admiral Bednarczyk,” said the alien in slightly slurred speech, his avian face looking out of a holo bubble.
The avian had bright blue eyes, almost all pupil, set in a face of small, multicolored feathers. He, or was it she, had no visible ears, and the mouth, while not quite a beak, was close enough that the evolutionary lines could be drawn. Bednarczyk had served with a military liaison mission to the Elysium Empire years before, and had fallen in love with their culture. While not the majority of a population that consisted of many species, the Brakakak were the dominant race, one of their own traditionally serving as High Lord of the Council.
“Admiral Gerathak. So good to see you,” she said in what she hoped was passable Brakakak, forcing the air through her throat and mouth in way that were not comfortable to most humans. It had been years since she had practiced that tongue, and she cringed inside as the words left her mouth, hoping the alien would take her attempt as it was offered.
“You speak our language,” said the avian, his mouth cracking in an almost human smile. “Surprisingly good, for your people.”
“Thank you, Admiral. It has been quite some time since I had the pleasure to be around any of your people.”
“Then perhaps you would dine with me this evening,” said the being. “We can discuss how you want to use us. My Crakista colleague will also be there.”
“I accept,” she said without reservation. She found the species to be delightful. Not just beautiful to look at, but with a subtle body odor that smelled like expensive perfume. Their speech was musical, like the songs of birds.
“Very good. Then with your permission, I will expect you at my flagship in six hours.”
Bednarczyk gave back the traditional greeting, then terminated the transmission. She pulled up the Elysium shipping manifest, which included some vessels from their Crakista allies as well, and smiled. Admiral Gerathak had brought vessels with him that would fill her needs nicely. Only enough warships, cruisers and destroyers, to provide adequate escorts for his command. The other three hundred and some odd ships were engineering specialists. Tugs, supply ships, factory ships. Just what was needed to rebuild systems, to make them ready to base her warships for the next offensive. She would also use them to rebuild the planets that had been occupied, to their detriment, by both sides in this war.
She was also looking forward to meeting with the Crakista. She had served several decades on the Crakista frontier, and had actually been involved in combat against them. They were an honorable opponent, adhering scrupulously to the laws of warfare that the two powers had agreed upon. A lot of humans thought of the Crakista as reptilian, but they would be wrong. Closer to dinosaurs, warm blooded and very intelligent. Though that wasn't correct either. The Crakista were not dinosaurs any more than the Brakakak were birds. They might resemble those Earth lines, but they had arisen by billions of years of convergent evolution on different planets.
Checking the clock she saw that she had time for a good four hours, giving her time to shower and dress in her best uniform, then shuttle over to the Elysium flagship. She thought she might be too excited to sleep. She was wrong, and blackness enclosed her as soon as her head hit her pillow.
* * *
JUNE 15TH, 1004. CENTRAL FRONT SPACE.
“We've set off another one, sir,” said the rear admiral on the com. “We were in a good position, and they only took out a few ships.”
Mgonda could tell by the expression on the man's face that losing even those few ships bothered him, deeply. That suited the duke. He didn't want commanders under him who didn't think of, care for, his people. But losing a few ships was better than losing a task force or better. Or losing a bunch of almost helpless non-combatant vessels.
“Good work, McCready,” he told the lower ranking admiral. And I hope you learned something that keeps your losses low in the future, thought the duke.
He looked over the plot and pointed at one of his battle groups, then moved his finger to link it with the system Rear Admiral McCready had just reported on. With a thought he sent the movement order into the ship's com system.
In minutes the order would go out. Minutes more and that battle group would be preparing for movement. When they got there a gate would be erected, logistics vessels move in, and another system would be fortified and prepared as a forward base.
Damn, but I miss the swift movements, thought the duke, thinking of the excitement of the days when he had been moving his fleet by leaps and bounds into Caca space. He was hoping those days would return, but the Cacas were doing everything in their power to slow down the Imperial fleet, successfully. If it had been up to the duke he would have forged ahead. He believed that giving the Cacas time to prepare, to rebuild their fleet, was a mistake. If he had been in charge they would have charged in ahead without a thought for casualties, and get this war over and done with. He was a firm believer in spending lives to save lives.
Unfortunately, he was not in charge. As Sean had pointed out to him recently, the toys he had did not belong to him. Sean could remove him from command whenever he wanted. Fortunately for Mgonda, he was very good at what he did, and Sean gave him great leeway in what decisions he made, as long as he didn't disobey directly.
So, where to next? he thought, studying the plot once again. He zoomed in on multiple systems, one after the other, calling up the intelligence they had on each. Categorizing each by estimated enemy strength and potential resources. He would have to send major forces to some of those. He would still send a scout group in first, but he needed to be sure he had enough at each one to handle anything substantial they might run into. He picked out four likely candidates and sent the tasking orders up to his own superior. McCullom would look them over and send her approval, or not. She might consult with the Emperor. In fact, he was sure she would, since it would deflect responsibility if things went south with any of the operations.
If she approved he would send the orders out to the selected forces. If not? He could go over her head to the Emperor, but that might come back to haunt him after registering a resentment with the chief of naval operations. So unless it was important enough he would just find another target for that force.
Mgonda checked to see if Sondra had received his tasking orders before he went to bed. The com network indicated that she was not in her office, probably gone to bed. He could wait until morning, her time. Since they were moving slowly anyhow, it really wasn't that important that he get it back immediately. Again he thought about fast movement, and not having to get everything approved from above. Would those days ever return?
* * *
“We've set the trap in fifteen more systems, Supreme Lord,” reported one of his admirals over the com.
“I hope you took your time and set them well,” said Mrastaran, waving a pair of right index fingers in the air. “The humans are starting to look at systems much more closely, you know.”
While the traps would accomplish their primary purpose of slowing the humans down, giving Mrastaran more time to order his Empire and prepare his counter strike, he still needed them to fulfill their secondary purpose of bleeding the enemy. Losing all of the five thousand or so fast attack craft in each mission for a return of a couple of enemy ships was not worth it in the long run. Carefully hiding them, taking into account all of the possible sensor techniques that could find them, and the crews remaining patient, were the only ways to ensure they got in a useful strike.
“They will have a hard time locating the traps, Supreme Lord. I would bet my life on it.”
That was an unusual thing for a male to say to a superior, since in Ca'cadasan culture the superior might well take them up on it.
“I will be sure to pay attention to the results,” said Mrastaran, staring into the eyes of the other male through the holo. The Emperor had no intention of punishing a male who had given his best effort. Of course, if the male wanted to think he had something hanging over his head to improve his efforts, the Emperor was not about to disabuse said male of those thoughts.
One last thing, thought the Emperor after he had dismissed the officer. His eyes were burning with fatigue. And to think he had been considering retirement. Instead he was working harder than he had ever in his long life.
The Emperor pulled up the profiles of some of his junior admirals, like he had done every night for the last couple of weeks. He was looking for somethings in particular. Intelligence and a willingness to take the initiative. In the past males such as these would often be challenged by lesser Ca'cadasans of superior rank and greater physical ability. They would rise to captain, possibly low admiral status, and be taken out by someone whose leadership was actually a detriment to the Empire. Mrastaran had decided to stop that nonsense in its tracks. Males on campaign were not allowed to challenge or to accept one. Males that broke that new regulation could expect a slow and painful death. The Emperor didn't like the idea of capital punishment by torture, but he needed to insure that the most able leaders, whether in present or future commands, survived.
These five he thought, clicking on the profiles of a quintet of captains and low admirals who showed the most promise of the fifty he had looked over. Which that selection their lives had changed, though they didn't know it yet. They would be relieved of their duties and transferred to the special school the Emperor was setting up. Taught strategy, tactics, and most importantly, how to think rationally. They would be the future of the fleet, if the Empire survived until they could complete their training.
Other males that the Emperor had selected would be looking at lower ranking personnel, testing, evaluating, until he had tens of thousands of thinkers in training. The humans might still win, but Mrastaran was determined that it not come about because they found themselves facing inferiors across the battlefield.
There was so much to do, and not enough time to do it all. However, the Emperor didn't think it in the best interest of the Empire to work himself to exhaustion. At the moment he and his sons, along with some few others, were the only males he trusted to make good decisions. Eventually that would change, but it did no good to incapacitate himself before that day arrived.
* * *
“Do you think we made a good choice, Primate?” asked the Supreme Admiral of the Ca'cadasan fleet, their equivalent to the chief of naval operations for the Empire.
“I, am not sure,” replied the supreme religious leader of the Church of Ca'cadasa, giving a head motion of confusion. “He has seemed to take the wild herbivore by the horns, and I have to admit I like the way he is making changes that will echo through our society for generations. Especially as it comes to punishment.”
The Supreme Admiral thought that over for a moment before speaking. While had to agree that changes needed to be made, he wondered if Mrastaran was attempting to make too many. “He moves too fast. The spacers and soldiers need time to adjust.”
“And how much time do you think he, uh, we have,” said the religious leader. “The humans have grown mighty, and their wave crashes at our bulk-work. Unless we grow stronger, and quickly, we are doomed.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he will try to implement so many changes that our society collapses, and the nation goes down to defeat despite victories. I just don't know.” The Supreme Admiral had a strange expression on his face, combined thoughtfulness and confusion.
The Primate looked at the other male, one who had been instrumental in elevating Mrastaran to the leadership of the Empire, and he didn't like what he saw.
I'll have to keep a close watch on this one, he thought, making a mental note to have Church agents monitor the communications of the admiral. While such channels were not supposed to be accessible to people outside the fleet command structure, there were always true believers who could be called upon to carry out the work of the Church.
Chapter Five
If it were a fact, it wouldn't be called intelligence. Donald Rumsfeld
JUNE 20TH, 1004. IMPERIAL PALACE: CAPITULUM: JEWEL.
The palace was still a long way from completion. It's facade had a finished look at night with the light shining on marble surfaces. I
nside was far from ready, though the family quarters, guest housing and staff rooms were finished. As was the most important room this night, the Imperial ball room, redressed as a formal dining hall.
Sean walked into that hall, a fifty meter by thirty meter room with an enormous central table, with Jennifer on his arm. All eyes turned his way, and the palace major domo called out in a carrying voice.
“The Emperor Sean, Sean the first of his line, and the Empress Jennifer.”
Not everyone in the chamber jumped to their feet. There were many heads of state seated and talking. However, all conversation stopped and many heads bowed his way as Sean escorted his beautiful wife to her seat at the head of the table, right next to his own. All conversation had stopped for the moment out of respect, and Sean bowed his head in appreciation at the gesture.
Before wormholes such a gathering would not have been possible. President Klanarat of New Earth had come the farthest, though that term held little meaning with wormhole tech, The Alpha had taking a step in his capital and walked out over nine thousand light years away, into the capital of his greatest ally. Sergie Baryshnikov of New Moscow, President Julia Graham of the New Terran Republic, Lord Grarakakak of Elysium, and Pro-Counsel Hssrat Jillarst of Crakrista had all travel about the same distance, between two and three thousand light years. As had the two representative of the Klashak Concordium and the Margravi Hegemony, minor nations in the Grand Alliance. A representative of the newly formed Fenri Confederation was also seated at the table, his small furred form contrasting with some of the larger aliens seated.
President Rizzit Contena of the Klassek people had traveled the next farthest after Klanarat. Sean had wanted the head of the newest member of the Empire, who had yet to make a state visit to the capital, to attend. To the lower left side, still standing, was the Imperial military contingent, with Grand High Admiral Sondra McCulllom, Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, and Field Marshal Betty Parker, representing Fleet, Army and Marines respectively. Some of their staffers were in attendance as well, including Chuntoa Chan, Ekaterina Sergiov, and Commodore Mary Innocent, Sean's personal intelligent liaison. Standing with them in a show of respect were at least one of the senior officers of each alliance member. On the opposite side of the table were the ministers. Lord T'lisha, the Phlistaran minister of security dominated that group with his bulk, looking decidedly uncomfortable sitting at a table when he could be supervising the safety of all the attendees. Lord Garis, the Minister of State, Lord Halbrook of the Exchequer, and Lord H'rressitor, the Gryphon Minister of Commerce and Industry sat among alliance counterparts.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 17: The Rebirth Page 5
