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

by Doug Dandridge

  Chapter Thirteen

  Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be for without victory there is no survival. Winston Churchill.

  BATTLE CRUISER JEAN DE ARC, SPACE BETWEEN MASSADARA AND CONUNDRUM SYSTEMS, MARCH 27TH AND 28TH, 1000.

  “We have trouble, Captain,” called out the voice the duty Sensor Chief over the com.

  “Talk to me,” said Mei Lei as she pulled herself out of her bed, blinking as she looked at the clock on her ship link. Dammit. Only three hours. But she was responsible for the ship and everyone aboard it, and that didn’t come with a guarantee of rest.

  “I just picked up some resonances in VII that might mean problems, and soon.”

  Mei grunted as she looked for her cat, remembering with more wakefulness that Satin was not aboard her ship, but was instead with the young man she had sacrificed her vessel to save. So they’re both alive or both dead, and I have to wait till we get back to base to find out which.

  “What do you have?”

  “Hyper resonances at One O’clock, Three O’clock and Two O’clock at thirty-five degrees down. None of them close enough to have picked us up, but we’re going to drift into range of their sensors in about two and a half hours.”

  “Any plot to get us out of this,” said the Captain to her duty Navigator as she pulled on and sealed her coverall, then sat on the bed to get into her boots.

  “Not a chance, ma’am,” said the Navigator. “I’m running simulations now, but there is no way out that I can see.”

  “Crap,” cursed the Captain, pulling on her boots and heading for the door to her ready day cabin. “I’ll be up there in a minute.” She switched her link over to another circuit. “You heard, XO.”

  “I heard,” said Jackson, his voice also sleepy. “I’ll be up to the bridge in five.”

  “Roger that,” said the Captain, walking through her day cabin and out into the corridor, then through the hatch across the way, returning the salutes of the Marine sentries.

  “Captain on the bridge,” yelled out Lt. Commander Deitricht, the Weapon’s Officer and duty CO.

  “As you were,” called Mei, striding over to her chair, which Deitricht had vacated. “Have you ID’d them yet, Chief?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Do you want the good or the bad first?”

  “Why not save the good for last,” said Mei with a slight smile on her face. “I probably could use some cheering up after the bad.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the Chief. “They’re Cacas alright. And no matter what we do they will have acquired our signal within the next hour.”

  “Great, Chief. So what’s the good news?”

  “I have four Caca ships on my scope, two singles, and a double at the thirty-five degree down position. And they’re all scouts.”

  Scouts, thought the Captain, a feeling of hope starting to grow through the depression of the last five minutes. Scouts are only five hundred K tons, so we out match each by a factor of sixteen. Unfortunately their weapons are a bit better kilo for kilo, and they are fully functional, unlike us. “Helm, can you try to avoid the pair, make sure that we only have to deal with the singles?”

  “I think so, ma’am,” agreed the officer.

  “You know that the others can go and get help,” said Commander Jackson over the com.

  “Of course, XO,” said the Captain, thinking of the implications. “But I would rather fight them one at a time, and try to get away from whatever they might bring back. And we can give them reason to suspect that we are not what we are.”

  “I think I can arrange something like that, ma’am,” came the voice of Chief Engineer Hernandez. “I am assuming of course that you would like for them to think we are a freighter, before it is too late.”

  “That is my thought, Engineer,” agreed the Captain. “Weapon’s Officer. What can you give me on the lasers?”

  “A ring in one hundred percent, while C is at sixty,” said Deitricht, sitting at the vacant tactical station and looking over the board. “B and D of course are still nonoperational. So I can give you a laser and a half for as long as they can handle the feed.”

  The Tactical Officer, Lt. SG Yomatov, came onto the bridge and gave a salute, then hurried over to the tactical station to plop down next to the Weapon’s Officer. It was his job to use the weapons on the Captain’s commands, while the senior officer was there to make sure Tactical had something to use.

  “You heard the situation over the com, Mr. Yomatov?” asked the Captain.

  “Yes, ma’am. And I was thinking about some simulations to run to see what would give us the best chance.”

  “You’ll have time for your simulations,” said the Captain with a nod. “I don’t think we’ll see any combat action for at least eight to ten hours. But when it comes, I want the ship as ready as can be.”

  “Navigator,” said the Captain to that officer. “Try to find us a good battleground or three, then present your findings to myself or the Exec. I would prefer to meet one of them in hyper, then drop into normal to take on the second. I doubt number two will believe we are a helpless freighter after we take care of number one. So we may need some cover and concealment.”

  Mei stood up from the captain’s chair and made to leave the bridge, signaling Jackson over the personal circuit to meet her in the briefing room. “Everyone come together with the plan, and we will meet in two hours to see what we can do. Get to work people. We have a battle to win.”

  The Captain exited the bridge, wondering if she sounded more confident than she felt. That she could take on and destroy a Ca’cadasan scout in a close in battle she had no doubt. That she would be in trouble if said scout engaged her with missiles at range was a different story. So she had to make the enemy engage her close in, where her heavier weight of light amp and particle beams weapons would win the day.

  * * *

  “Target system straight ahead,” called out the Helmsman. “Range to hyper barrier five hours at current decel profile.”

  “And where’s our boy, chief?” asked the Captain, leaning forward in her chair, looking at the tactical display that showed the target twenty light minutes behind and closing. But it was always good to hear confirmation from the expert.

  “Right where the plot is showing, ma’am,” said the Chief. “Coming in fat and sassy.”

  Just as we want, thought Mei Lei, nodding her head. We’re just a helpless freighter with only enough weaponry to defend ourselves against pirates. Not worth wasting a missile on. Not worth going back to base and resupplying with ordnance. A feather in your cap for the price of a little energy.

  “We should have visual in five minutes,” continued the Chief.

  “Which means they will see us at the same time,” said Jackson from CIC.

  “I want the stealth systems up and running in two,” said the Captain, staring at the plot as if she could exert her will on the enemy. “No use taking a chance that they might see us as we really are.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” chimed in the Sensor Officer, who was in charge of the nanoparticle organ of the ship’s skin. Jean de Arc was flying backwards at this point, turning the still mostly intact skin of her bow to the enemy. There were still some chinks in even that point of presentation, but the crew had to hope that the enemy would never get enough resolution on the image to see them.

  The crew sweated for the remaining minutes, waiting for the enemy ship to come into visual, and therefore into laser range. They could fire at longer range, though many of the photons would drop into normal space. And firing at longer range meant there was more of a chance for a miss.

  “We have a missile launch,” said the Sensor Officer, turning around with a panicked look on her face. “Incoming missile, accelerating at eight thousand gravities.”

  “Shit,” yelled out the Helm. “What do you want me to do, Captain?”

  “Nothing,” said Mei. “We continue playing the freighter. We really have no choice.”r />
  The Helm nodded her head and turned back to her board. The bridge was silent, the crewmen lost in their own thoughts as the enemy missile closed. The enemy ship was decelerating and was down to point four C. Her missile would be up to point four by the time it overtook the battle cruiser, with a closing speed of point one C. Enough to really hit the battle cruiser hard, maybe enough to knock out her still functioning systems. And no one had any illusions as to what would happen if they went through catastrophic translation again.

  “How the stealth holding out, Sensor?” asked the Captain.

  “As far as I can tell we’re still tight,” said that officer, trying to keep her voice calm. “We should be retuning a sensor image of a ten million ton freighter. And the engine resonances are perfect. Not that I would expect the Cacas to know the difference.”

  “Should I prepare to fire on the missile?” asked the Tactical Officer.

  “To what effect?” asked the Captain, staring straight ahead. “If we blow up the missile they’ll just hang back and hit us with a volley. And I doubt we’ll be able to handle any kind of concerted attack. So our only option is to keep playing freighter.”

  “But the missile, ma’am,” cried out the Tac Officer. “If it hits us it will blow us all to hell.”

  Mei Lei looked at the Tac Officer with cold eyes. “Can you do your job, Mr. Yomatov? Or do I need a replacement for you?”

  “No ma’am,” said the officer, stiffening his back. “I will follow orders.”

  “Then keep your finger off that commit button until I tell you to fire. Understand?”

  The officer nodded his head and turned back to look at his own board.

  “Missile impact in twenty-two minutes,” said the Sensory Officer.

  This is Hell, thought the Captain, pure and simple. If I’m correct we are still drawing them in. If I’m wrong they’ll simply vaporize whatever is left of us, if a catastrophic translation doesn’t do it for them.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” came the voice of Jackson over their private com circuit.

  “Hell no. Do you have any other suggestions?”

  “Other than getting a working battle cruiser, not a one,” said the Exec with a chuckle that sounded very strained.

  “Missile impact in twenty-one minutes.”

  “I think we can do without the countdown, Sensors,” said the Captain, knowing that it was wearing on her nerves. “We can all watch the clock. Just let me know when it’s a minute away.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the officer, a flush coming to her face. The officer turned back to her board, then back at the Captain. “We have a visual.”

  The image of the Ca’cadasan ship appeared on the viewer, coming in clear for a moment, then disappearing in static, then firming up again. It was the ominous shape of human nightmare, the shape that humanity had hoped to never see again. But now they had to deal with them in all their numbers.

  The ship sat there in the viewer, a rounded cylinder with a skirt around the middle, its equivalent of the human grabbers. There were domes all over the ship, the laser projectors that looked strange to human vessels that used multidirectional rings for the same purpose. The Ca’cadasan ship was not trying to disguise itself, it had no need. Mei hoped that their own appearance was more pleasing to the enemy.

  “Enemy ship is hitting us with light amp,” called out the Sensory Officer. “So far the electromag and reflective skin is keeping it from harming us, much. I’m projecting an image of hull gassing.”

  “Don’t overdo it, Sensors,” said the Captain, looking over at the officer. “Subdued should do the job.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” agreed the officer. “Enemy missile is starting to decelerate and veer off.”

  “They were just trying to get a response,” said Jackson. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t,” said the Captain, then took a deep breath. “It was just a hope, that they wouldn’t want to waste a missile on a freighter. And I was right. They didn’t get a response, and now they’re going to move in and take us on the cheap. At least that’s their plan.”

  “We’re receiving a grav wave com,” said the Com Officer, holding her hand to her ear as she listened. “Standard English. They’re telling us to continue on our current heading and to accelerate at our best speed.”

  “They want to match velocities with us,” said Jackson. “Makes it easier on them if we speed up so they don’t have to decel as much.”

  “Confirm their order,” said the Captain to the Com. “And ask them to quit blasting us with their laser before they knock our drive systems offline.”

  A few moments later the lasers quit impacting on the ship. “Now everyone take a deep breath,” said the Captain. “On my command we’ll open up with everything we have.”

  There were head nods and ‘yes ma’ams from over the bridge, and everyone was again silent and back to their own thoughts.

  “They want to take the ship for prisoners and intelligence,” said Jackson.

  “Playing right into our hands,” said the Captain, leaning forward in her seat and watching the enemy come in. “Keep on coming, you bastards. Keep on coming.”

  “I’m showing fluctuations in the electromag field, ma’am,” yelled out the Sensor Officer. “Invisibility and holo projection fields are going offline.”

  “Do something,” yelled the Captain, her eyes growing wide.

  “I’m trying,” cried the officer, her hands flying over her board.

  “They’re going to fire,” yelled out the Tactical Officer, looking back with a frantic expression.

  “Range?”

  “Still one light minute,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “Too damn far,” said Jackson.

  “Yeah,” agreed the Captain. “How you doing on those fields, Sensors?”

  “They’re firming up some, ma’am,” said the officer. “But they could drop at any moment.”

  “Engineer. What can you give me on emergency decel?”

  “A hundred and fifty gravities for ten seconds,” said the Engineer. “But that will put us twelve over what the compensators will handle.”

  “And no time to get in the tanks,” reminded Jackson.

  “On my command give me emergency decel,” said the Captain. “Tactical, I need you to stay awake, no matter what. As soon as I order it I want the plan put into action. Can you do that?”

  “Yes ma’am,” said the officer. “Can do.”

  “How is the plasma torp?”

  “Plasma torpedo ready to fire,” said Tactical. “All weapons ready.”

  “If we get close enough to use it fire,” said the Captain. “Don’t wait for my order.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Range thirty light seconds,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “I wonder why they haven’t fired,” said Jackson, confusion in his tone. “I sure as hell would have.”

  “They’re not as suspicious as you, XO,” said the Captain. “Everyone seal your helmets. Shipboard alert. There won’t be time to do it later.” She reached a hand up and pulled her own faceplate down, pushing it to seal to her helmet. She was now as protected as could be if anything punctured the ship as far as the bridge. Not that her armor was likely to do her much good if a laser or particle beam burned through that far.

  “Range twenty light seconds.”

  “They can’t be that stupid,” said Jackson.

  “Don’t jinx us, XO. Keep on coming in, fat and sassy. We’re just a slow freighter, waiting for you fierce warriors to come in and take us.”

  “Stealth field dropping,” yelled out the Sensory Officer. “We’re taking fire. Range fifteen light seconds.”

  “Evasive maneuvers,” yelled out the Captain. “Emergency Decel.” The ship started to move in random directions, throwing off the aim of the enemy. A half second later she went into emergency decel, and the heavy hand of gravity pushed everyone back with a force twelve times above what they were
used to. It was a painful force, and the Captain could feel the pressure on her chest, keeping her from breathing. She fought to remain conscious, knowing that to black out would doom them all. Come on, she thought, willing the time to pass before blackness closed over her. Her nanosystems were helping to deliver oxygen to her brain, but the pressure was about to make her scream in agony, if she could actually do such a thing with this much pseudo gravity on her body.

  And then it was over, and the Captain tried to pull oxygen back into her lungs. She managed to croak out one word. “Fire.”

  The Tactical Officer was still conscious, enough to hit the commit button through blurred vision. Jean de Arc opened fire with her full power A ring while the stern swung around swiftly to bring the sixty percent effective C ring to bear. At the same time the particle beams opened fire.

  The enemy was only five light seconds distance when the battle cruiser fired. She had not started evasive maneuvers yet, and her beams were mostly missing the human ship, only hitting a tenth of the time they were tracking on the enemy. The human lasers hit at the same nanosecond that the enemy knew they were under fire. But organic systems, and even automatics, could not react quickly enough, and terawatts of laser power ravened across the skin of the ship, digging deep paths through the alloy, and causing massive outgassing and systems failures.

  A second later the particle beams struck, hitting with protons and antiprotons, pummeling the skin of the vessel and exploding pieces of enemy ship as antimatter hit the matter of the spacecraft. Lasers had already caused considerable damage to the electromag shield systems of the ship, which did not work as well in hyperspace as in normal anyway. The charged particle beams had no problem penetrating the weakened shields, and the enemy ship took critical damage in seconds.

  The enemy ship tried to go into evasive maneuvers. The young Tactical Officer on the battle cruiser recovered quickly mentally and physically from the crushing gravity of a moment before. He made a guess, and kept the beams concentrated on the enemy ship, swinging them the way the vessel vectored as soon as it started its movement.