Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm

by Doug Dandridge

  One man was brought in who did have more serious injuries than the last few, including both arms broken and a shattered knee, as well as massive burn scarring on his chest. The man was still conscious, but seemed to be in no pain, the nanites injected in preop doing their job well. She started to work on the man, and then his features finally broke through her fatigue.

  “Sergeant,” she said, looking into the man’s eyes. “Sergeant Hogan. Can you hear me?”

  “Sure can, Doc,” said the man in a weak voice. His eyes focused and he smiled. “You’re the Captain’s lady, aren’t you?” The smile quickly turned to a frown.

  “Where is Captain McKinnon?” she asked, afraid of the answer based on his reaction, but needing to know. “Do you know where Captain McKinnon is?”

  The face of the man scrunched up, and tears began to form at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I truly am.”

  “What happened, Sergeant? What happened?”

  “The Captain’s dead, ma’am,” said the Sergeant in a choking voice. “The Captain’s deader than shit.”

  “Did you see him go down, Sergeant?” asked Jennifer in a hushed voice, feeling the numbness of shock invading her system.

  “He caught a particle beam, ma’am,” said the Sergeant, closing his eyes. “Leading a counter attack against the Cacas, so that you people could be warned of their attack. When we tried to disengage he attacked again, to disrupt their assault. And he caught a particle beam that opened up his suit. He’s dead, alright. He’s dead.”

  The Marine was starting to become hysterical, and the Medic injected something into the man’s neck. In an instant he was out.

  Jennifer worked on the Sergeant, blinking back tears. It’s not his fault that Glen died. So you will do a good job on him.

  After the Sergeant there were only two more patients, and Jennifer worked on them in mechanical fashion, feeling nothing. She didn’t hear the Medic speaking to her when she was done, and allowed herself to be led away out of the tent. It was day outside, the filtered sunlight coming through the trees. She barely noticed as she was led to a small tent, then put to bed in a sleeping bag. Her last thoughts were how her life had gone to shit after coming to this frontier world. And then she was out, the mercy of unconsciousness taking away her sorrow, for the moment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Some people may have wondered why an Imperial government was formed. It was formed because the officers of the Exodus III decided they wanted the power. It eventually evolved into a Parliamentary Empire, with a constitution that protected the rights of the people, at the demand of those people, who, after all, were the real strength of the Empire. In most cases through history such a government eventually evolved into a true Parliamentary system, with the royal or imperial family assuming the positions of mere figureheads. But in an expanding Empire that stretched across hundreds, then thousands of light years, it was found that many times what was needed was a single strong ruler in the right place and time. The sectors retained their governors, the planets their archdukes, the Empire its Emperor. Thus, the Empire was able to function quickly and efficiently in times of war or crisis, without having to wait for governing bodies to gather their members from across the stars.

  History of the New Terran Empire, Imperial Year 788.

  RED DWARF SYSTEM BETWEEN MASSADARA AND CONUNDRUM SYSTEMS, MARCH 24TH AND 25TH, 1000.

  After the events of the last couple of days, the shuttle ride from McArthur to Sir Galahad was anticlimactic. The assault shuttle from the battle cruiser was heavily armed and armored, like any craft intended to take Marine combat troops into harm’s way. The two attack fighters stayed close to the shuttle, making sure that the inconceivable didn’t happen. And the two squads of Marines sent over from Galahad were babysitting a young man who couldn’t possibly be intentionally harmed at this point.

  But they’re Fleet, thought Sean with a smile. And they mean well.

  Sean looked over at the two Marines who had been assigned to take care of him aboard the destroyer, Sergeant Lance Tucker and Private Gertrude Johanson. They had refused to leave his side even when the other Marines came aboard to escort him to the shuttle. Their Captain had told them to watch him, and they were going to continue to do so until someone higher ranking than their Captain told them otherwise. And the Lieutenant of Marines from the battle cruiser did not count.

  Sean was silent and deep in thought on the short trip across. He was minutes away from a trip home, to become the Emperor of Humanity in a time of war. Which gave him almost absolute power over the military and the civilian industries that supported it. Not a job he wanted, but his nonetheless, unless he wanted to hand the job over to an idiot cousin. And he would not inflict that on the sentient inhabitants of the Empire for anything.

  We need a leader, he thought, and if I don’t feel I’m the right man, then I need to become that man, starting now. He had promised such to his old Captain, to Chief Gorbachev, to all the people he had left behind, and he meant to fulfill that promise.

  He was on his way to meet with an Admiral. A low ranking Admiral, to be sure, but still a Flag Officer. And he needed to stop acting like a junior officer, and start acting like a Monarch.

  The battle cruiser drew closer on the screen mounted by his seat. He looked over the strange form of the Hyper VII warship, with larger than normal grabber units and larger graviton projectors, top and bottom, than the usual Hyper VI ships. She needed the larger units to penetrate into the Dimension of VII, which took more than four times the energy than that used to penetrate into the next lower dimension. And he knew that the extra hardware came with a price.

  The fighters veered off, and the shuttle approached the cold plasma field that kept the atmosphere in the hangar, so that it need not be cleared of air when launching or landing small craft. The shuttle slid through the field with a slight bump of turbulence, and the field closed up behind it. Sean’s viewer shifted to the stern of the shuttle, and he saw the thick doors, a continuation of the ship’s outer armored skin, sliding into place. Not taking any chances with my precious hide, he thought with a chuckle. Failures to the plasma field, though rare, had been known to happen. And they don’t want my Imperial hide sucked out into space.

  The Marine guards from Galahad unbuckled and got out of their seats. A squad headed for the exit, then disembarked. A Marine NCO came back and nodded at the Lieutenant.

  “We can go, your Majesty,” said the officer, gesturing toward the exit.

  I guess this is my life from here on, thought Sean, the feeling of being trapped coming over him again. No real freedom, always watched. And now even more so, after what happened to the others.

  “Come with us Sergeant, Private,” said Sean to the two Marines who had been his keepers aboard McArthur.

  “Sure we shouldn’t stay aboard for the trip back to our ship,” said the NCO.

  “About that,” said Sean with a smile. “I think I have a surprise for you two. So come on.”

  The two Marines looked speculatively at each other, then got yo their feet to follow the Emperor, who had a smile plastered on his face.

  As the Emperor (uncrowned) came through the hatch and onto the ramp a band struck up the Imperial Anthem. Sean glanced that way for a moment, surprised that there was a real band aboard the vessel. Piped in music would normally suffice, and this told him something about this admiral. He looked straight ahead to where a row of men and women in dress uniforms stood. One line was made up of Marines in full dress reds, the other of naval officers in dress black. At a command the Marines snapped to present arms.

  Sean again felt the discomfort at being the center of attention. He shrugged the feeling away and walked down the short ramp. As his foot hit the deck the naval officers all simultaneously rendered a hand salute. Three officers stepped out of the ranks and pivoted precisely, heading in his direction in perfect step. The tall ebony skinned woman in the center wore the double stars of a rear admiral on her shoulder bo
ards, while to her right stood a muscular blond man with the eagles of a captain on his boards. To her left was a short, slight man of swarthy complexion, also with captain’s rank.

  “Your Majesty,” said the Admiral with a bow. “Welcome aboard the HIMS Sir Galahad.”

  “My Lady,” said Sean, taking her hand, looking into the intelligent face and the features of West African Descent. He wasn’t sure of her social rank, but all flag officers were granted at least a knighthood. He brought her hand to his face and brushed the back of it with his lips.

  “May I introduce the Captain of the Sir Galahad, Broderick Stafford,” said the woman, motioning to the big blond man, who bowed to Sean. Sean took his hand and shook in in the universal greeting of human males. “And this reprobate is Captain Josia Greenefield, my Flag Captain.” Sean took the smaller man’s hand, then looked back at the Admiral.

  “So what’s the plan from here, Admiral?” he asked, taking a look around the otherwise empty hangar. A hangar that had been emptied for this greeting ceremony.

  “I think we should wait for the rest of my task force to join us here,” said the Admiral, looking the young man straight in the eyes. “Then we will head back to Conundrum, where we can see to getting you back to the capital. I have already ordered a pair of destroyer back to base to relay the good news. But I would feel much better having the other battle cruisers with us when we go into hyper.”

  Because once we’re in Hyper we’ll be broadcasting our whereabouts to everything out there. Especially in VII. “And what about the Dot McArthur?” he asked, knowing that the destroyer would not be able to make better than V on the way back to base.

  “We’ll send a couple of tin cans along with her for escort,” said the Admiral, looking over at her Flag Captain.

  “I would feel much better if you delegated a light cruiser along with the cans,” said Sean, the programmed instinct of command starting to rise within him. “They saved my hide, and I would hate to see them come to grief before they can get a fully functional ship underneath them.”

  “See that it’s done,” said the Admiral, looking over at the Flag Captain, then giving Sean a curious look. She then noticed the two Marines in shipboard battle armor that were marked with McArthur’s name. “I think the Sergeant and the Marine can go back to McArthur. We’ll assign a platoon to be your bodyguard until you can get personnel from the Imperial Division.”

  “I wish for these two to be part of my detail,” said Sean, pointing to the pair. “I’ve grown used to them.”

  “Then I’m sure the Lieutenant in charge of the platoon can add them to the roster,” said the Admiral, looking a little flustered from being ordered about in such small matters on her own force.

  “Sergeant Tucker,” said Sean, looking over at the NCO. “You are now Lieutenant Tucker, Officer in Charge of my security detail. And since you will need a good Platoon Sergeant, Ms. Johanson, you are now a Gunnery Sergeant.”

  “That is most irregular,” blurted out the Marine Lieutenant, flushing with embarrassment as he realized who he was talking to.

  “Imperial prerogative,” said Sean, smiling at the officer. “I believe that is within my powers, Admiral, is it not?”

  “It is, your Majesty,” said the Admiral. “Very well. Lieutenant Yamaguchi,” she continued, looking over at the shocked Marine officer. “If you would show Lieutenant Tucker and Gunnery Sergeant Johanson to their quarters. I leave it to you to help the new lieutenant to organize his security detail.” The Admiral looked back at the Emperor and bowed. “If you would follow me, your Majesty, we will see about getting you settled into your stateroom.”

  Probably the VIP quarters, thought Sean as he followed the ranking officers. I could get used to that. The Marine guards fell in around him, four to the front, four to the rear. Now this part I could do without, he thought of the security, but didn’t see any way around it.

  * * *

  “We have translations,” called out the Sensory Officer. “Four battle cruisers, twelve light cruisers and twenty destroyers.”

  As expected, thought the Admiral, looking at the tactical plot which now showed the other task group on the edge of the system, completing her task force. She looked over at Captain Greenefield. “We’ll head out system as soon as we can reach the hyper limit,” she told the officer, leaving it to him to make the arrangements and issue the orders.

  “What’s the status of McArthur?” said a now familiar voice.

  Montgomery turned around to see the Emperor walking onto the bridge, the cat he fawned upon in his arms. Should have left that animal back on the destroyer, thought the Admiral, who was not a cat person in any manner, preferring dogs. “McArthur is starting to make way toward the hyper limit. Two light seconds out.”

  “Could I speak to the Captain?” asked Sean, walking over to the com station, a small disk in his fingers. “Hello Cousin,” he said to Lt. Commander Samantha Ogden Lee, who was manning the panel. “How have you been?” He looked back at the Captain.

  “Contact the McArthur, Commander,” ordered the Admiral.

  “And transmit this file to the ship,” said Sean, handing over the disk. The Commander looked back at the Admiral, who nodded her head.

  He’s acting the role at least, thought the Admiral, looking at the straight back of the young man who now was the commander of them all. By the Goddess, I’m still not sure he is what we need right now, but he sure is leaning in that direction.

  * * *

  A moment later the face of Commander Maurice von Rittersdorf appeared on the viewer, the battered bridge of his ship behind him. “Your Majesty,” said the Captain. “What can I do for you this fine day?”

  “It’s more what I can do for you, Commander von Rittersdorf,” said Sean, a broad smile on his face. “As a gesture of gratitude for saving my life.”

  “All part of our duty, Majesty,” said the young officer. “Your thanks are more than enough.”

  “No,” said Sean, shaking his head. “The words of thanks are necessary, but not sufficient. I believe there is something more I can do for you, Duke von Rittersdorf.

  The shocked look on the Captain’s face was priceless to Sean. He had looked over the officer’s personnel file. The younger son of a Count, he had few expectations to ever achieve the title. Awarded a knighthood for bravery in action, unless something unexpected happened he would probably retire with a small holding on a frontier planet.

  “I, I don’t know to say, your Majesty,” said the man, his face flushed.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Captain,” said Sean, nodding his head. “And you may want to change those oak leaves on your collar for eagles. And prepare a list of the people you want for your staff.”

  “Staff, your Majesty? I don’t understand.”

  “Part of your reward is the command of a squadron, your Grace,” said Sean, his smile threatening to split his face open. “And there will be awards for all of your crew as well. You will find my Imperial Writ in your data banks. We are sending it to your ship now.” He nodded at the Com Officer, then looked back at the screen. “This will make an official record of my appointments. Now Godspeed, your Grace, and may you have safe sailing to a friendly port.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” said the new Duke. “Thank you for myself, and for all of my crew.”

  “And again, thank you, your Grace. Without the diligent service of yourself and that crew I would now be dead.” And the survivors of your dead will also find something to help them in their grief, though there is never enough to completely compensate that sacrifice.

  * * *

  Sean let the cat drop out of his hands to land gently on the couch. The door was closed behind him, leaving him alone for the first time since he had come aboard. The Marine guards stood watch at the door under the watchful eye of Gunnery Sergeant Johanson, who still looked decidedly uncomfortable with her new rank. She’ll grow into it, thought Sean as he sat on the couch and stroked the cat. “We all have
to get used to changes, don’t we, Satin,” said Sean, looking down at the cat. He could tell that the animal was grieving as well, not really knowing what was going on, only that his familiar person was missing from his life.

  Same for me, thought the Monarch, fighting back the tears that threatened to pour from his eyes. What will it be like to see the palace again, and to know that the familiar people are gone forever? Father, mother, my brothers. The place will seem empty, despite all the staff and security. He also thought about his old shipmates, lost forever. The face of Jana Gorbachev swam in his mental vision. The forbidden love, unrequited, only acknowledged from his side. Never could have happened, he thought. And now, as Emperor, I couldn’t even be the disgraced son who had an affair with a commoner.

  Sean knew that he had to fulfill the role, much as he dreaded it. He had to find a wife and sire an heir. In the meantime he could list the succession to his child sister and the children of his brothers, while making sure that strong people stood behind them as regents that wouldn’t let unscrupulous politicians rule, with them as puppets.

  Maybe I should see to that now, thought Sean, getting up from the couch and walking over to the bar that was part of this VIP suite. He made himself a drink after looking through the selection and selecting some good rum from Nuevo Espania. Do I have to change this too, he thought after taking a sip of rum and cola. Turn into one of those Scotch drinking old men who frequent the cabinet and embassies. He took another sip and shook his head. Rum will be the official drink of this Emperor, and be damned to those who cite tradition.

  Sean walked into the small office that was attached to the living room, there for the use of whatever officer or official that happened to be aboard. He set himself down into the chair that conformed immediately to his anatomy. Almost too comfortable, like it was intended for taking a nap and not for work. But everything worked, the comp link was state of the art, as was the holo on the desktop. Sean tapped into the circuit and sent through his access code. I should have known, thought Sean as every secret in the Flagship was now open to his perusal. He now had the ultimate security clearance. Nothing could be hidden from him, an Emperor in time of war. The absolute power and responsibility of the position now hit him like it hadn’t before. What was the old saying from Earth, the one I learned in history. The buck stops here. When he was officially installed in his office there would be no higher authority. He would still have to deal with Parliament, but a sitting Emperor during wartime had powers beyond those of a peacetime Emperor.