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

by Doug Dandridge

  “Have any of you ever heard of the Yugalyth?”

  There was much head shaking around the table and some statements of negation. But the Ambassador noticed that his IIA Station Chief was looking with interest at the avian.

  “Only vague rumors,” said Gertrude, nodding, then looking around the table. “Shape shifters. Said to have become extinct in a long ago war.”

  “I thought shape shifters were impossible,” said the General.

  “They are,” agreed Samuel Starks, the Chief of the Science and Technology Division of the Embassy. “Nothing but fodder for the imagination of the masses. There is no way a living being could shift its mass around in such a manner as to alter its appearance within seconds, much less hours.”

  “Yet they do exist,” said the High Lord. Horatio held up a hand to prevent the scientist from making a rebuttal, then nodded for the avian to continue. “Doctor Starks is correct in that they cannot change in an instant. In fact, it takes them days to mimic the subject. But when they do they are a perfect imitation, down to the DNA in their integument. Every hair, mole, wrinkle, is duplicated. They have to touch their subject in order to obtain the DNA, and they have to study their subject to so imitate the exterior. But when they do there is no way to tell the difference without taking a deep tissue sample, or scanning their bodies with advanced imaging equipment.”

  “And how do they accomplish this?” asked Starks. “I really see no way in which this could have been an evolutionary advantage to them.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t evolution,” said the High Lord, locking eyes with the scientist. “At least not completely. The Yugalyth were the most plastic of species, able to heal wounds and regrow almost any damage that wasn’t quickly fatal. And the Ancients recognized how special their biology was, and made it even more special through genetic engineering and nanotech. They became the spies of that Empire. And since, have become the spies of ours.”

  “So if they were subjected to EMP they would lose their shape changing abilities?” asked Gertrude, and the Ambassador could see where she was going.

  “No,” said the High Lord, shaking his head in a gesture he had learned from the humans. “They use a peculiar version of biological nanite, not really a machine as much as a virus, developed by the Ancients. I am afraid that electromagnetic pulse would have no effect on them.”

  “And you are telling us about them because?”

  “Because, young lady, not only have we used them to gather information in your Empire, but I am afraid the Knockermen have deployed them for espionage and sabotage of you military establishment.”

  “But, why?” asked Gertrude, her eyes narrowing. “We are not your enemies. In fact, we are your closest friends in this arm.”

  “It is because of the station we built around the black hole, isn’t it?” asked the Ambassador. “You told me once before how much the building of such a thing distressed you, because the Ancients had built one like it, and then had come to a bad end.”

  “That cursed big station is the reason,” said the High Lord, his eyes changing to the fierce look of his ancestral predators. “Oh, not enough where my people were going to do anything about it. If you used it wrong it was on your species, and we would have another set of beautiful nebulae in our night skies.”

  “And you think those supernovas had something to do with the Ancients, and the black hole?” asked the General, while Starks looked horrified.

  “There’s no other explanation,” said the scientist, looking around the table. “Don’t you see? Ninety percent of the stars that were at the heart of the regions that became nebulae were not of sufficient size to supernova. Yet they did. So something the Ancients did caused them to blow.”

  “That is one way to see it,” admitted the High Lord, his eyes growing even more intense. “Or was it the Universe correcting the problem that the Ancients had become.”

  “Oh, come now,” said Starks, shaking his head. “Don’t give us that mysticism about the Universe being sentient. It’s just a collection of matter and energy.”

  “And that is why you humans feel free to do anything with your science that you want,” said Grarakakak, pointing a digit at the scientist.

  “But if you say that you didn’t have anything to do with the sabotage,” said Horatio, locking eyes with the High Lord, “why were the Knockermen so gung ho on shooting down the project. Not for fear of what might have happened to my species, certainly.”

  “No, for fear of what might happen to theirs. You see, one of those beautiful nebulae that grace the night skies of your empire used to be the home star of the Knockermen species. They were closely associated with the Ancients, until their home world was swept from underneath their feet. And now they feel that you are going to cause the same havoc in this arm, and that the Universe might not be satisfied with just taking out your race, but may strike at all the intelligences in the arm. So that is why they strike at you, and at my people, because we will not do anything about it. They will not be satisfied until your cursed big station is beneath the event horizon, and of no threat to anyone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Man is the only animal that deals in that atrocity of atrocities, War. He is the only one that gathers his brethren about him and goes forth in cold blood and calm pulse to exterminate his kind. He is the only animal that for sordid wages will march out... and help to slaughter strangers of his own species who have done him no harm and with whom he has no quarrel... And in the intervals between campaigns he washes the blood off his hands and works for 'the universal brotherhood of man' - with his mouth. Mark Twain.

  HYPERSPACE NEAR CONUNDRUM APRIL 16TH, 1000.

  “Prepare one of the couriers,” said Admiral Mgonda, standing up from his chair and heading toward the hatch. “My compliments to Fleet Admiral McIntosh, and she is to bring the fleet back to Conundrum.”

  “May I tell her where you are going, Admiral?” asked Gonzalez.

  “To catch up with Mara’s ship,” said the Admiral, smiling. “To see that damned heir for myself, and make sure that he gets back to Conundrum without any further adventures.”

  “Good luck,” said the Intelligence Officer, shaking her head.

  Mgonda smiled and walked off the bridge, heading for the nearest lift. The superbattleship had six hangars instead of the four on a regular battleship or battle cruiser. Three of them each had a courier berthed, which took up most of the space in the hangar. Mgonda was happy to see that the crew chief was waiting outside the ten thousand ton craft as he entered the cavernous hangar. The rest of the twenty man crew would be aboard prepping the ship, which shouldn’t take long, as couriers on a flagship were always kept at a high readiness status.

  “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” said the Senior Chief at the entry hatch. The chief did not say the name of the small vessel. It had none, only a designation number. The Chief escorted him through the ship to a cabin that was set aside for passengers.

  The Admiral almost asked to sit on the bridge of the vessel, but realized that the commander and crew didn’t need one of the second highest possible naval rank sitting on their deck watching them. He activated the cabin holo as he sat on the bed, and watched as the vessel left the hangar and maneuvered away from the Frederick de Grosse. As soon as they were away from the superbattleship’s hyper field the courier started to decelerate at almost seven hundred gravities, shedding velocity at the rate of six point seven kilometers per second. It took the ship a little under two hours to get down to the point two light translation speed.

  Mgonda had always been an easy translator, and only felt a small twinge of nausea as they moved up to hyper VII. Then it was another hour of what really amounted to deceleration before she started forging after what was left of Mara Montgomery’s task force.

  Mgonda ate twice and slept once before he was alerted that the courier was matching velocities with Sir Galahad, still an hour ahead and decelerating toward Conundrum. It would probably have been more intelligent
to just come back with the fleet. But I want to get the ear of the heir, before he’s swarmed under by sycophants and hanger ons.

  An hour later the courier was docking with the battle cruiser, linking up to an outer hatch, and Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda, Fleet Commander of Sector Four, walked into the ship that had commanded the force he had sent on a rescue mission to save the heir. He felt mixed feelings at being aboard. Elated that it had returned with the one it sought. Angry that the commander had gone off on an unauthorized mission. He wasn’t sure which emotion would come out when he saw Mara. The Marine honor guard piped him aboard, and the commander of the ship, Captain Stafford, was there with some of the ship’s officers to greet him. Admiral Montgomery was not there, but then it was not her place to greet VIPs coming aboard the ship that she was also, after all, a guest on.

  Happiness won the battle as the Grand Fleet Admiral walked onto the flag bridge. Mara was already standing at attention, as was the rest of her crew. A young man and woman still occupied their seats. The woman looked like she wanted to jump to her feet as well, but the man put a hand on her arm and shook his head, then turned to look at the Admiral with a slight smile on his face, stroking the cat in his lap.

  So that’s the little shit all this was about, thought Mgonda, seeing a young man who looked unimposing to his practiced eye.

  Mara rendered the proper salute, and Mgonda returned it. “At ease,” he ordered, then walked briskly toward Mara, opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. “I am so glad you made it back, you insubordinate bitch. But what convinced you to go gallivanting off on your own into enemy territory, when you had already achieved your objective?”

  “How did you know to come looking for me?” asked Mara, tears in her eyes.

  “A broken down destroyer came into the system and gave us the tale,” said Mgonda. He held the woman away with his hands on her arms. “Now, please answer my question.”

  “I ordered her to mount a rescue mission, Duke Taelis,” said the young man, standing, putting the cat on the chair, then walking up to the ranking officer.

  “A Lieutenant ordered a Rear Admiral to take her force on a suicide mission, against the orders of the Sector Commander?”

  “No, Duke Taelis,” said the young man. “Her Emperor ordered her on a mission of mercy, and she saw it as her duty to obey.”

  “You are not Emperor yet, Prince Sean,” said Mgonda, pointing a finger at the young man. “You are the heir to the throne, and you will sit on it. But only if we can get you invested and crowned. And to do that, we must get you back to the capital.”

  “I’m not going back,” said Sean, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a defiant stance. “There is a war to fight, out here in Sector Four. And I plan to be here to fight it.”

  “You are a fool, Prince Sean,” said Mgonda in a growl, turning away and walking toward the central holo tank. “If you don’t get back to the capital, and soon, you will not have a throne to sit.”

  Sean’s face flushed with anger, and he started to say something. The expression changed to one of confusion, then unbelief. “What do you mean? What do you mean, I won’t have a throne to sit.”

  “Because, young prince of fools,” said Mgonda, rounding on Sean and pointing a finger in his face. “The people will demand a ruler, especially as the fear of the ancient enemy grows. And someone will be seated on the throne if you are not there to sit it yourself. An idiot cousin perhaps. Or someone without the sense of honor you were raised with, who will allow themselves to be manipulated by unscrupulous men.”

  “I didn’t realize,” said Sean, looking around the room. The young woman, who looked like a family member to the Duke, put an arm around the young Prince’s shoulders. “I really thought the throne was mine, no matter what.”

  “That would normally be true,” said Mgonda. “But they think you dead back at the capital, and will see no need to wait for a dead man. And once the idiot cousin is seated, he will have the crown, but not the loyalty of the Fleet. And we will have a civil war, at a time when such could be disastrous to our cause.”

  “Maybe you should just throw in with whomever Parliament decides should rule,” said Sean, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “Then you damned well better make yourself ready, Prince Sean,” said Mgonda. “Because there is no way in Hell the Fleet will support the reprobate that the Lords want to put on the throne.”

  “You have the strength to be a great Emperor,” said the woman who had sat by Sean, rubbing her hand across the young man’s armored shoulders. “You’ve proven that. And I will keep the seat warm while you walk the flag bridge of a fleet, if that is what you want. But listen to others for a change. These people have your best interests at heart, and the best interests of the Empire. But they can only help you if you listen.”

  “But, how do I get back to the capital in time?” asked Sean, his major mistake now staring him in the face. “It will take weeks to get back on the fastest ship we have.”

  “We may be able to do something about that, my Prince,” said Mgonda with a smile. “If things are as I hope when we get back to Conundrum. I have just one favor to ask, when you do ascend the throne.”

  “And what is that, Admiral?”

  “Please forgive the way I talked to you today, and don’t have me sacked. I have been waiting for a war like this all my life, and wouldn’t want to miss it for anything.”

  Sean put his hand on the Duke’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I wouldn’t want anyone else in charge out here when it hits the fan, Duke Taelis,” he said. “And I’ll expect you to tell me when I am wrong.”

  We’ve got the man we need, thought the Duke, returning the smile. And thank God Mara brought him home.

  * * *

  “I have an order for you, Doctor Jennifer Conway,” said Sean, walking into medlab and nodding for the other medical staff to leave.

  Jennifer looked up from the scanner, where she was checking the components of an injured man’s blood, to see the smiling prince come in and the others filing out. What now, she thought, turning off the scanner. It was a task that was really for backup of the automated systems more than anything else. But she took her work seriously, and this was work. At least we’re not riding around in high gee anymore.

  “Don’t you want to hear the order, Doctor?” said the grinning man, looking like a little boy who had a secret he couldn’t wait to tell.

  “Sure, your Majesty,” she replied. “Since you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm if you don’t let it out.”

  Sean laughed, loudly, till tears ran down his cheeks. “You have a great sense of humor, Doctor. And I hope if I really look like I’m about to have an aneurysm, you will do something to stop it from happening.”

  “That I can guarantee, your Majesty,” said Jennifer, impatient to hear his proposal, which he had called an order, but unwilling to show that impatience. Finally she could take it no more as he seemed unwilling to say what he had come to say. “So what is it, your Majesty?”

  “I wish you to become my personal physician,” said Sean, his smile growing wider.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will be disappointed. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “You will not order me to be imprisoned until I change my mind?”

  “You are a free citizen of the Empire,” said Sean, his smile turning into a frown. “I would not violate my own law. Of course, we are involved in a war. And I could have you drafted into the Fleet.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t make me have to,” said Sean, looking into her eyes with his sky blue orbs. “Just say yes, and you will be the first among the physicians of the Empire.”

  Jennifer stared at him for a moment, letting her anger ebb. “I will accept on one condition.”

  “That being?”

  “That we keep this a strictly professional relationship,” said Jennifer, hold
ing up a finger. She extended the next digit. “That you don’t try and trick me into any kind of a romance.” And she extended the third finger. “And I be allowed to walk if I think you are reneging on either of the first two. Well, what do you say?”

  “I accept,” said Sean, frowning, then smiling. “I will make no advances toward you. And if you change your mind about the romance, just let me know.”

  “That’s not going to happen, your Majesty.”

  And Sean gave her a smile that would melt a heart of stone. Be strong, Jennifer, she thought as he walked lightly from the Medlab, more graceful than would seem possible in the armor he was wearing. And she could already tell that all of her conditions had been lies, and wondered if that would be so bad.

  Epilogue

  CONUNDRUM SYSTEM, APRIL 18TH THROUGH 19TH, 1000.

  So, we finally made it to Conundrum, thought Captain Mei Lei, looking out of the observation port at the central star, off three light hours in the distance. At least most of us did.

  The crew of the Baron Pepperdine knew enough to leave her alone, as did her people. The viewer was set to her control, and she panned it across the system, then set it to a tactical display so she could look at all the traffic in the system, just to make sure this place was strong enough to withstand any kind of attack.

  There was a lot of it in the system, military and commercial traffic both. Most of it seemed to be coming in on the elliptical plane facing the core region of the Empire. Reinforcements and military materials flowing out to this, the bastion of Imperial power in Sector IV.