The holo came alive over the tech’s station, showing a three-dimensional representation of a star system. The icons of Imperial ships were shown moving into the outer system, while the icons of Machine ships populated the inner regions.
“Wormhole equipped ships are firing,” said the tech, who was listening in on the command conversations of the task force.
“How many?” asked Beata. She had too many task forces and groups out there, and couldn’t keep track of who everyone was and what they had. She could use her implant to look up the information, but found that it broke her concentration. It was easier to just ask the people who were detailed to follow such things.
“Three, ma’am. All are firing.”
That was one weapon she didn’t have to worry about the Machines duplicating. Or at least she hoped not. The missiles came out of the wormholes at a very high percentage of light speed, up to point nine-five c, and they couldn’t be tracked until they got close enough to engage their drives for final target acquisition. She supposed active sensors could locate them, if the sensor was pointed toward the missile and pulsed at high power. Even then, it would only give them some few seconds of earlier warning.
“Impact in one hour, forty-one minutes.”
And that was a problem with modern combat. It still took too much time for a shot to hit, meaning you had to wait for what seemed like forever to see if your strike did anything. Or, if you were on the receiving end and knew they were coming, you were given over an hour to sweat, no fun at any time.
These things don’t sweat, she thought. She wished that they did. It would be much more satisfying if the death machines actually felt fear, panic, hopelessness. But they just reacted according to their programing, making decisions based on the statistical probabilities of the situation.
The enemy ships started to move and opened fire on the Imperial force, which was still on the other side of the barrier and moving slow enough to stay beyond that barrier and jump back into hyper. The statistical analysis of the situation must have told the Machines that they were being shot at, but she wasn’t sure why they were shooting back. They had to know that the ships they were shooting at would be able to jump to hyper well before their weapons got there.
Beata shrugged her shoulders and walked back to the main plot. Nothing of interest would happen in that system for over an hour, and she would probably never know why the Machines had fired when they had. They were incomprehensible to her, while most of the time they were also utterly predictable. And completely without emotion. She shivered for a moment at those thoughts, then steeled herself to continue to look like the imperturbable commander she was rumored to be.
* * *
GORGANSHA HOME WORLD.
“The Emperor has agreed to the transfer of some technologies to your people, and I am authorized to give you working examples of those techs,” said Rear Admiral Natasha Khrushchev, looking at the dictator of the Gorgansha people on the holo.
“That is all well and good, female,” growled the leader, his use of patronymic making her skin crawl. “But we need some of your improvements now. We can, of course, reverse engineer anything you give us. And eventually produce it in quantities enough to aid us in our fight against the artificial life forms. But what about our immediate needs.”
They are such sexists, thought the admiral, amending that thought as soon as she had it. There were still some sexist species in Imperial space, and even a few humans who still considered women as inferior to men. Physically they were, on the bell curve distributions that described just about all human abilities. That didn’t mean all men were stronger or faster than women, just that more fell higher on the bell curve distribution. Which was the main reason the prespace military was dominated by males. Modern technologies, with armored protection that gave the wearer greater strength, had made that conceptual framework obsolete. Women for the most part had faster reflexes to go with their generally smaller size, but there were still plenty of men in the aviation field. But these people carried sexism to a different level, almost like the Cacas. With the Cacas their attitude actually made some sense, since as far as humans knew all of their females were not sapient, having the intelligence of toddlers even when they were full adults. She didn’t know much about the females of the Gorgansha, since she hadn’t been exposed to any, but to people who had been down to the planet’s surface, and who had heard females talking among themselves, they had seemed as intelligent as the males.
Not that that’s saying much, she thought with an internal smile. “Don’t be concerned, Lord Gonoras. We will be giving you large quantities of the equipment I have been authorized to disperse.”
“And will we be getting your hyper VII technologies?”
Here we go, thought Natasha, internally grimacing. “I have been authorized to give you our advanced sensor technology, our missile tech, and all of our laser and defensive screen techs. That should allow you to improve your military considerably. And it will give you a much better chance in battle against the artificial life forms.”
“And the hyper VII technologies?”
“The Emperor has not authorized the release of those techs, my Lord. I am sure that it will be authorized presently.”
The face of the being assumed a look she had come to recognize as rage, one of the primary emotions of this species.
“That is unacceptable, female. We must have hyper VII if we are going to have any chance against the artificial life forms.”
And it’s after the war that we worry about, thought the admiral, who had expected this confrontation as soon as she had read the order from the Emperor. She had been picked for this position because, coming from Exploration Command, she was as much diplomat as warrior, able to see both sides of the argument in a negotiation. She could understand why the alien leader was upset. If they got the entire suite of Imperial technologies they would be the masters of the Machines, and would also have some chance of resisting the Empire if that power ever became a conqueror in this space. By not turning over all tech the Empire was showing that they didn’t trust the Gorgansha. On the other hand, the Empire didn’t trust the Gorgansha, who had proven to be conquerors in the past. The industrial capacity of the Gorgansha was such that, even though they would never be a threat to the Empire in its home space, they could become quite the rival out here.
“I will talk with my Emperor and discuss your concerns with him, my Lord. It may take some time to get a response. We are, as you know, fighting a war with a larger opponent, and this area is not a priority in his mind.”
“And it is the number one priority in my mind, female,” growled the leader. “Perhaps we should contact these opponents of yours, and see if they are of more help.”
And that would be a very bad idea, you elevated fool, she thought, again showing no emotion on her face, not sure how well these people had learned to read humans. But she was sure the Cacas would tell these people what they thought they wanted to hear, maybe even help them to fight the humans, then turn on them whenever it was convenient.
“My Lord. I am doing all I can to help you, but I cannot go against the wishes of my monarch. How would you feel if a subordinate went against your orders?”
“I would feel very satisfied when I witnessed his execution.”
Which was something Khrushchev didn’t have to worry about with her own monarch. As long as she performed to the best of her ability, any mistakes she made wouldn’t cost her life. At most she would be relieved of command and drummed out of the service. But these barbarians killed their own for any and every infraction, one of the reasons the Emperor didn’t trust them. Hell, I don’t trust him either. There’s no telling what this idiot might do if we frustrate him for too long.
“When can we expect this material support?”
“The freighters are scheduled to arrive within the week. That will give you forty million tons of materials. I’m sure you can manufacture more on your own, once you look over the technical m
aterials we will provide. In fact, I think we can give you some of those now.”
“Very well.” The holo died, terminated from the other end.
“Security,” said the admiral into the com.
“Colonel Nishnartra here, ma’am,” came the voice of the commander of Khrushchev’s marine regiment.
“I want your unit at full alert status. We might have a situation here sooner than I wanted. So, be prepared. Bridge.”
“Captain here. Yes, ma’am.”
“Make sure all weapons are manned and ready.”
“They always are.”
“Just be prepared, Captain.”
Natasha hoped the dictator wouldn’t do something foolish. If he tried to take her ship to get the tech he wanted she would fight back. She was sure that she would take many times her tonnage with her. She was also sure that she would lose. Her force was too heavily outnumbered for any other outcome. And the Gorgansha would lose their only ally in this region, probably resulting in their destruction by the Machines. A rational being would not make such a decision. But nobody could say these people were rational.
* * *
“I hate putting her in that position too, Admiral,” said Sean, looking at his Bolthole Front commander on the holo. “But I also hate to give up on the Gorgansha so soon. I really want to trust them, but they have to prove they’re worthy of that trust.”
“Kind of rough on Khrushchev and her people if they do prove untrustworthy,” said Beata, frowning. “All they have is that one battle cruiser and a couple of destroyers. If those bastards decide they want to take her ships, they might be able to stop them, but only at the cost of their lives.”
“And what do you suggest, Admiral?” asked Sean, rubbing his temples. If it wasn’t one thing, it was something else. He never seemed to find the time to relax. Part of the price of being the guy at the top. He was liking more and more the idea his father had for him, while he was still alive. A minor diplomatic post, or else a command in the Fleet. While both of those came with stress, it couldn’t be anything like what he had to deal with now.
“You’re going to send freighters to them, aren’t you, your Majesty? And I’m assuming at least one of these will be a superfreighter.”
“That is correct, Admiral. One superfreighter and a trio of large cargo ships. Forty-five million tons of equipment, enough to upgrade a good portion of their fleet.”
“And it will be coming into Bolthole through the wormhole gate?”
“Yes. And what are you getting at, Admiral?” Sean was tiring of his admiral throwing around questions as if he was supposed to get what she was about.
“I suggest that we open a gate from Bolthole to the Gorgansha home system. We bring the freighters through, along with a strong escort of, let’s say, a dozen capital ships and their escorts.”
“Are you sure you want so many ships to escort a diplomatic mission. I’m sure it will pay off in the long run if we can get an improved Gorgansha fleet on or side. But you need ships, and Bolthole needs its defensive force.”
“And I don’t plan to bring those ships into the Gorgansha home system just to sit there, your Majesty,” said a smiling Bednarczyk. “I intend a demonstration or two of our capabilities. The ability to move ships from system to system almost instantaneously, and the size and weaponry of our capital ships as compared to theirs.”
“And then you will bring the ships back to Bolthole, while leaving the gate open,” said Sean, the idea finally clicking in his head. “And the aliens will know that a massive fleet waits on the other side, in case Admiral Khrushchev needs them. Genius, Admiral. Remind me to give you a raise.”
Beata laughed. “You know I don’t do this for the money, your Majesty. In fact, you couldn’t pay anyone in their right mind enough to do what we do. But thanks for the compliment. So, I have your approval?”
“Of course. Get to it. And how about I lend you an extra brigade of Marines to give to Admiral Khrushchev. Maybe she can find a use for them, and the heavy assault carrier they come packaged in.”
“That would be wonderful, your Majesty. And I can think of some ways to use them to intimidate, uh, I mean gain the attention of the Gorgansha. Of course, you know this could backfire on us. The Gorgansha might see any show of force as an affront to their sovereignty. I can’t guarantee the results.”
“You have my approval, Admiral. If anything backfires the fault is mine.”
“I’m not really worried about assigning fault, your Majesty. What I am worried about is the consequences, not who gets blamed.”
“And that’s one of the major reasons you are out there, Admiral. In command. Now, I need to get to work on something else. Not everything gets solved this easily.”
The last thing Sean saw on the holo was the shocked face of the Admiral. Got her with that remark about things being solved easily, he thought, pulling up transcripts of his latest negotiations with Parliament. If only she knew.
* * *
Vice Admiral Mara Montgomery was studying a plot very much like the one her superior was looking at. A huge plot of the sector, every known system represented, millions of them. But to her sight, altered by her implant, some systems stood out. And in her sight a small area was zoomed in, the system of interest and those closest to them.
She was used to commanding scout forces, everything from a squadron on up to multiple task groups. Hit and run was her specialty, but this time she was being ordered to take on an enemy force in a head to head battle. Of course, in the tradition of the Imperial Fleet, she had been told what to do, but not how to do it. That was up to her, and she was determined to use her entirely hyper VII force to its full advantage. The enemy had gained the secret of hyper VII, capturing a destroyer of that class. But capturing that tech and using it were two different things. It took more than four times the amount of super-metals to construct a hyper VII array than one of VI. And it took a lot of industrial effort to make those metals. Giving the machines two options, with many other shades of gray in-between. They could continue to use their hyper VI vessels, constructing their newer ships of VII capability, meaning less new construction. Or they could convert their existing vessels to VII standard, rendering three quarters of their fleet no longer hyper capable. Or they could take one of many options to make some VII ships and leave the rest as they were.
The problem was the humans didn’t know which options the Machines would take. What they were sure of was that the Machines would quickly make a decision, and quickly carry it out. Not for them the constant bickering and arguing that would take place in an organic command structure.
Thank the Goddess we don’t have a government by committee during wartime, she thought as she tried to make a decision on how she would approach the system. History was riff with examples of government committees who could not make up their minds and compromised, sometimes with disastrous consequences.
“That is the first system we will strike,” she finally said, pointing out one on the plot that started blinking. “It has a large Machine presence, and we are positioned properly to come in on four vectors. We will take it out, then play it by ear from that point.”
People nodded and acknowledged the command. All knew that when their commander made up her mind it stayed made up. No one would argue, unless they had good reason, and no one on the bridge could currently come up with one. There were too many unknowns here, and one target was as good as any other.
“All groups should be in position within thirty-four hours, ma’am,” reported the force navigation officer.
“Very good. I want everyone ready to go in within thirty-six hours. I want all groups coming in simultaneously. We can’t afford to let these bastards get an advantage against any of our groups.” She looked over at the com officer, who was manning a board linked into their wormhole. “Send that out to all ships.”
Now that the decision was made, Mara felt a sense of calm come over her. She had set the offensive in motion. Within the hour
the commanders of the other attack groups would make their decisions. But they would all be acting in concert with her forces. All would be within forty-eight-hour travel time of each other. The commander in chief did not want anyone getting caught by superior enemy forces without relief able to come to their aid. Mara approved of that way of thinking. While she was known as audacious, she also knew when to be cautious, and opening the offensive in Machine space called for caution.
Chapter Two
Every act of creation is first an act of destruction. Pablo Picasso
GORGANSHA SPACE: AUGUST 15TH, 1002.
“We have an artificial life form force on the way into the system, my Lord,” said the male manning the sensor station.
“Show me,” ordered the Lord Kessarlja, wobbling over on his triangular arrangement of locomotive limbs. No one would ever accuse his species of being graceful, and his people realized it. But when they were still, with their three points of contact on the ground and their tails lying flat, they were all but unmovable, something that must have been important in their evolution.
The system commander drew in a quick breath as he saw the number of icons on the plot. The holo was not giving him complete information on the makeup of that force, but it didn’t need to. If they were Machine scouts there were enough of them to overwhelm his system defense, and he didn’t doubt there were some more powerful units among that incoming group.
“Sound the alert,” he ordered, turning to stump back to his chair, claws clicking on the deck.
The alarm went off, a high-pitched whine that hit the fight or flight nerve in his species. It would be going off all over the system as soon as the alert reached them at the speed of light. Moments after the alert sounded, on ships and bases, in cities and the countryside on the inhabited planet, all would know what was heading their way. And all would realize that they hadn’t a chance.
Which didn’t mean that they wouldn’t fight to the last, especially against an enemy that they knew possessed not the slightest shred of mercy. That was an evolutionary imperative in most species, theirs no less than others.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 4: Retribution Page 2
