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

by Doug Dandridge

  The damaged Athena fell behind, and was locked on by all of the ninety-six missiles that made it past the huge cloud of plasma. They hit with a fury of overkill, and the Athena and the four thousand refugees aboard died before they could even register it.

  And Mara Montgomery looked at the viewer that showed the expanding cloud of plasma start to fade from the dimension they were in, the tears rolling down her face. She glanced back at the Emperor, and saw him recoil from her expression. And that gave her at least some satisfaction in the midst of a complete fuck up.

  * * *

  “That’s the last of them, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer as the final missile of the wave disappeared in a flare of fury.

  The Admiral gave a head shake of acknowledgement as he looked at the plot. One of his battleships and two cruisers were gone, taking enough damage to drop out of hyper in a catastrophic translation. Four scout ships also blew into plasma. He still had a powerful force, enough to take on just about anything the enemy might have in the area. Unless he faced a battle fleet.

  “How many of the singles as still coming in?” he asked, looking on the plot where single red arrows continued to approach.

  “About four hundred, my Lord,” said the Sensor Officer. “But none will approach in groups greater than ten.”

  And so we will knock them out of space before they can even get close enough to harm us, thought the Admiral, smiling. And they wasted almost three thousand of their missiles in a vain attempt to stop us.

  “What about the survivors, my Lord?” asked the Tactical Officer.

  “Continue the chase, until we get a good firing solution on them. Then fire a wave they can’t survive.”

  “We have missiles, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “Where? How many?”

  “They just entered hyper VI detection range for objects their size,” said the Sensor Officer. “A hundred of them. No two hundred. Five hundred.”

  “Any detection of their launching vessels? What kind and where?”

  “No, my Lord Admiral. Not yet. More missiles coming in.”

  “But they’re in hyper VI,” said the Helm Officer.

  “So were the last wave they fired at us,” said the Tactical Officer, giving the Helm Officer a look of contempt. “And then they jumped into VII.”

  “We have translations, Admiral,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Twelve hundred missiles into VII. On a course for our force, and accelerating.”

  “Prepare the force for missile defense,” ordered the Admiral, looking at the Com Officer. “Continue on course after those remaining VII ships.”

  * * *

  “My God,” groaned Samantha Lee, looking at the plot. “All those people, gone.”

  And all my fault, thought Sean, looking up from the floor to see the enemy ships still on the plot, still coming after them.

  “There is no way we can make it to jump speed before they catch us,” said the Admiral. “So we continue to accelerate, and hope that Mgonda comes up with something.”

  “We have missiles jumping from hyper VI to VII just ahead,” called out the Sensor Officer. “On a course for the enemy.”

  “Hope we don’t hit any in passing,” said the Com Officer.

  “That’s the least of our worries,” said the Admiral as red arrows left the enemy icons and moved ahead of the ships, vector numbers showing their acceleration.

  “We have eight hundred missiles heading toward us at point four light and accelerating.”

  “Any way we can handle those missiles?” asked Sean, getting up from his seat, his armor helping to move him in the heavy gravity of over the limit acceleration.

  “Not that I can see,” said the Admiral, grimacing. “In normal space we would be able to use our close in projectile defenses out further than four hundred thousand kilometers. As it is, they will be trying to hit the incoming missiles inside a too tight envelope. And our counter missiles are completely useless, except for the couple of hundred hyper capable weapons we have across all the ships. I would think three or four hundred of their missiles will get through our defenses, and then we are expanding plasma falling out of hyper.”

  “What about plasma?” asked Sean, his eyes pleading for her to come up with a solution, and clinging to any hope.

  “Like the torpedoes?” asked the Admiral. “I don’t see how. The torpedoes would start to fall out of hyper within seconds of leaving our field. Maybe as a last resort close in weapon. But that’s all.”

  “ETA of enemy missiles, twenty-three minutes,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “Do we still have any hyper capable missiles aboard?” asked Sean, putting his hand on the Admiral’s arm to get her attention.

  “About a dozen,” said the Tactical Officer after the Admiral shot him a look. “We could fire them at the enemy, but I doubt we would hit more than a dozen of the incoming with all of our ships releasing.”

  “And how many hyper units does each missile carry?”

  “Why all these questions, your Majesty?” asked the Admiral.

  “Admiral, I was the officer in charge of a laser ring. I am not up on my missile and plasma weaponry. Now answer the fucking question if you would please, Admiral.”

  Montgomery stared at Sean for a moment, outrage on her face. Sean kept his gaze steady, remembering that he was the ranking member of the Empire here. She took a breath and let it out, calming herself.

  “Each missile carries three hyper units, set in a triangular pattern around the midpoint of the weapon.”

  “Then get your missile people to work pulling those units off of the missiles,” said Sean, using the voice of an Emperor. “Then have your plasma weapon people get on putting those hyperwave projectors on the carrier packets of torpedoes. And have them do it quickly. The clock is ticking. Send the same instructions to the other ships.”

  The Admiral got on her link and sent the orders out, her expression still confused, but her conditioning to obey the orders of her superior setting her in motion to carry out those of her Monarch.

  Sean spent another minute outlining his plan, and at the end the Admiral was smiling and nodding her head. “It’s an insane idea, your Majesty,” said the Admiral. “It may work, or it may flop. But I can’t come up with any other solution. Maybe you have the genius of your ancestors, or the madness of Cassius, but by the Goddess, you can think on your feet.”

  “We’re picking up the signals of an Imperial force coming from the port bow,” called the Sensor Officer. “Twelve battleships and about forty escorts.”

  “Is that all that Mgonda brought?” asked Montgomery, looking at the plot.

  “They’re in VI anyway?” said Sean, following her gaze. “If the enemy dropped missiles on them they should be able to weather them. Especially since they have had to have fired off most of their own magazines at us.”

  “But if the enemy force slows down and jumps into VI they will destroy that Imperial force,” said the Tactical Officer. “More ships and people gone, for no return.”

  “If that’s all of them,” said Montgomery, walking to the plot while ordering it to zoom out. She pointed her finger to a spot on the plot that was out of their detection range of hyper VI. “If I were him, the rest of my force would be about here. Getting ready to pounce, as soon as the enemy takes the bait.”

  “ETA of enemy missiles sixteen minutes,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Friendly missiles should be passing through our position, now.”

  Sean looked at the plot, seeing the vector arrows of the missiles fired by Mgonda’s force come close to their own, parting so that they wouldn’t endanger the battle cruiser and her escorts, then coming back together into the optimum pattern.

  “Do you think they will get through?” asked Sean.

  “I’m not sure they’re intended to,” said the Admiral, studying the pattern of the missiles. “I’m not sure, but the Admiral may have sent us some more help.”

  * * *

>   JEWEL SYSTEM, APRIL 15TH 1000.

  “The Lords vote seven ninety-eight for and four twenty-six against,” said the Lords Speaker Julio Rodriguez, Count of New Barcelona, his voice amplified across the large chamber.

  Prime Minister Streeter looked at the vote count on his box’s board and smiled. Despite the opposition from the Emperor’s clique, over sixty-five percent of the Lords had voted to pass the proposal.

  “The Commons vote twelve seventy for and eight thirty-one against, with forty-eight abstains,” said Laura Goolsby, the Speaker of the Commons.

  That was a little more than fifty-nine percent, still a solid majority. But now came the most important of the votes, for the Scholars could still overturn the vote with a two thirds majority in their house. And the Scholars were overwhelmingly in the corner of the Imperial Family, which meant the missing heir. Unless the money Streeter had spread around had been enough to sway some votes. The elderly looking man who had at one time been the greatest physicist of the Empire stood in his box, looking down at a screen with a frown.

  “The Scholars vote two eighty-three for and four fourty-six against this proposal.” said Mohamed Ishner, looking as if he had bit into a lemon.

  Streeter raised his arms triumphantly over his head and silently cheered the vote. It was only a sixty percent vote against in the Scholars, which meant the proposal passed. Which meant they could go ahead and schedule the coronation of the young man he had picked to lead the Empire. And he could demand the arrest of the Chief of Naval Operations and his cronies, if they didn’t submit to the authority of the Parliament. Either way, the military triumvirate were out of a job.

  Would have been nice if it had been overwhelming, or all of the houses had been in favor. But it’s still enough to do what needs doing. Now the Countess can talk with that asshole of an Admiral, and anyone who tries to intervene will be guilty of treason.

  * * *

  “You are to consider yourself under arrest, Admiral,” said Countess Judy Decker over the com, her figure standing in the holo. “And let it be known that all who offer you aid and comfort in this matter will be considered guilty of treason. My people will be up shortly to take you to the tribunal.”

  Lenkowski wanted to curse at the woman, to threaten her, but realized that such action would actually hurt his plans. The holo went dead, then sprang back to life with the image of Captain Connie Mathers, the commanding officer of the Valkyrie.

  “You heard,” said Len, seeing the grim expression on the woman’s face.

  “I heard,” she said in a strained voice. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I guess plan B is the only recourse,” said Len, looking over at his adjutant and nodding. She nodded back, and starting putting data chips and other instruments into a briefcase. “I don’t want you doing anything to endanger yourself, or your crew,” said Len, looking back at the holo.

  “Don’t worry about that, Admiral,” said the Captain, shaking her head. “Not me. But as soon as I monitored the vote I started us heading for the central docks.”

  “You did what?” shouted Len, his gut tightening. “I didn’t want any of you involved in this. This is between me and Parliament.”

  “I have received no orders from the Lords,” said the Captain, crossing her arms and giving the Admiral her best stubborn look. “The engineer noticed some strange vibrations in the forward grabber units, and we are heading for central docks to have them checked out. It’s all documented and signed off on.”

  “I’m sure it is,” said Len with, still fearful that the crew of this ship might face the tribunal in his stead. “I am heading for the nearest shuttle bay and taking a shuttle for my personal use, Captain. Don’t try and stop me. That’s an order.” He also said that last for the recorders, in case she needed it.

  “Yes, sir,” said Connie, snapping to attention. “Far be it from me to disobey the lawful commands of a superior.”

  Len smiled despite his feelings. “We ready?” he asked Lt. Commander Yin, who nodded, her face slightly pale as she hefted the briefcase.

  “Your personal effects are on the shuttle, Admiral, as are mine,” she answered in a voice that showed her control over her fear.

  “You don’t have to do this, Zhen. I can make this trip on my own.”

  “I would not let you do that, sir,” said the ex-Commando, squaring her chin. “I can’t see letting these bastards get away with this.”

  “They still could, despite all of our plans to the contrary. And then you will be branded a criminal, with nothing positive to show for your actions.”

  “Nothing except the knowledge that I did what was right,” said the officer. “Now let’s get moving, Admiral. All this talking just leads to us wasting time.”

  Len smiled and followed the smaller officer into the corridor. They walked fast, soon hitting a lift station, where a car had been conveniently stationed for them. The car whisked them to the nearest hangar bay, and Len wondered as they zipped along if he would ever walk the deck of an Imperial warship again. It might have been a mistake to ever take that promotion that took me off a flag bridge, he thought, as the car came to a stop and the doors opened. But I never could have accomplished what I did for the Emperor and Empire without this exalted position. If I accomplished anything at all.

  The shuttle waited on the pad, a small light craft capable of fighter like accelerations. The pair hurried into the craft, then to the cockpit, where Yin strapped herself into the pilot’s seat while the Admiral became the subordinate for this short voyage. Yin lifted the ship off the deck as the hangar doors opened in front of them. The star field beyond was distorted by the cold plasma barrier that kept the atmosphere in the compartment. As soon as the ship was through that barrier the stars firmed into bright pinpoints.

  “We’re receiving an order from a pair of cutters,” came the voice of Connie Mathers over the com. “They are ordering us to stand down. We’re telling them we’re having problems with our grabbers. Use our shadow as much as possible.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Yin, punching in the commands that sent the shuttle toward her destination at a maximum acceleration profile.

  “We can outrun them for a moment,” said the Commander, looking at the holo that showed the two ten thousand ton cutters. “We have just a bit more acceleration. But they can blow past us and burn us out of the sky when we decelerate to come into the dock module we need to be at.”

  “I have faith in you, Commander,” said Len, wondering what else he could have said.

  “Distance to Central Docks, five thousand kilometers,” stated the flight computer.

  Central Docks got its name from being in the center of gravity of the twin planetary system of Jewel and New Terra. The primary naval dockyard of the home system, and the Fleet in general, over fifteen million people made the massive conglomerate of stations, assembly bays and atmosphere docks their home. The sensor read showed thousands of vessels in various areas of the docks, from those undergoing basic hull assembly, to completed squadrons making ready for their shakedown cruises. The dock was a precious resource to the Empire, and was well defended due to that status, a fact the Admiral was counting on to restrain their pursuers.

  “This is Parliamentary Cutter Z-1558 to the shuttle craft that has just left the Imperial battleship Valkyrie,” came the voice over the com. “You are ordered to maintain a straight and level flight while we match velocities and board.”

  “Keep on course to our target,” said the Admiral, looking at the, to them, enemy ships that were coming on behind. The shuttle massed less than two hundred tons, and while armed, did not stand a chance against the cutters.

  Yin nodded and started the shuttle on its decel profile. The Admiral stared at the holo of one of the ships following, praying that they would not be foolish enough to fire on a small craft so close to the docks.

  The tactical holo showed an invisible beam shooting past their craft, a laser released by the closest of the cutter
s. “This is your last warning,” came the voice of the cutter’s captain over the com. “In five seconds we will shoot to disable. After that, we will shoot to destroy.”

  “Hold on, Admiral,” yelled Yin, her hand dancing over the control board in a blur of motion. The shuttle bucked down and to the port, shaking on the way as something hit them on a starboard stern fin, vaporizing the structure and the grabber contained within it.

  An instant later the cutter flared with bright light, then exploded, its plasma cloud blotting out the image of Jewel to the stern for a moment.

  “What happened?” asked the Admiral, staring as the other cutter accelerated on a new vector that pulled her away from the Central Dock complex.

  Yin pointed to the viewer, which showed a destroyer of almost completed construction, a glowing spot on her hull from a laser hit. “Seems they hit something other than us with their shot,” said the woman with a grim smile. “And the defenses were forced to fire back.”

  “You did that on purpose,” said Len in an accusing tone.

  “I’ll deny it under oath,” said the ex-commando, holding up her right hand. “And you know they can’t force it out of me.”

  Of course not, thought the Admiral. Someone enhanced like she was would be immune to any form of interrogation. Then he thought about the crew of the cutter, twenty men and women who were just performing their duty. Tough. It was them or us, and the Empire depends more on us than them.

  The shuttle had slowed to almost a stop by this time, heading for the open portal of a hangar built into a large, fortified station. Yin set the bird on auto, and it smoothly flew into the entrance through the cold plasma field, then headed for the far back of the cavernous chamber. There it hovered for a moment before setting down.

  “Thank you for flying fugitive air,” said Yin as she pushed the panel and shut down the shuttle’s power.

  She doesn’t feel a thing about getting those people killed, thought Len, unbuckling his harness, his eyes locked on the naval commando as she disconnected from her seat. Good, because she’s the kind of person I need with me.