Well, nothing for it now, she thought as she located the Machine force that was heading toward the planet. She had her own plan on how to deal with them, and she was sure it would have been enough. She had explained to the Emperor what she had meant to do, sending ships from Gorgansha home world through to Bolthole, then through to Klassek. Of course, they wouldn’t have been able to send wormholes through that way, but she didn’t think they would be needed to take out the Machine force they had on the plot.
And why the hell couldn’t he have just sent ships through from Sector I base, she thought, clenching her teeth. That would seem like the best solution, since Sector I still had a battle fleet that wasn’t doing anything at the moment. Because those idiots in Parliament want that fleet there in case the Cacas happen to develop some kind of impossible interstellar teleportation tech and drop fleets into the middle of sectors on the other side of the Empire from them. She hissed out a curse, wondering why they had to put up with those clowns, forgetting that the Empire was actually a representative government. And if only Lysenko hadn’t tried to play hero by attempting to head them off, when he could have waited until they made it to the system, where he wouldn’t have fallen for their trap.
Her plan had been to take out the Machine system within their immediate reach, then send a large force back to take on the invaders soon after they reached Klassek space. It might be cutting things a little close, but it would have allowed her to make sure a Machine system was destroyed, then be damned sure enough ships went back to stop the attack on Klassek. Now she would be attacking the Machine system with a weaker force, while sending a force that might not be able to handle the enemy back at Klassek either. The situation would improve when they received more wormholes, which still had to come out the old-fashioned way, aboard ships traversing hyper.
“We’re preparing to go through the portal, Admiral,” reported Rear Admiral Sonya Halliday, standing on the flag bridge of the battleship Black Prince, a unit that Beata was loath to lose. She was bringing forty other ships with her, including nine capital ships.
“Take those bastards out as soon as possible, then get back here. I’m going to need you, Sonya. All of you, so don’t take any chances with your ships.”
Beata regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. Of course a commander had to take risks. If they played it safe with their ships they couldn’t conduct the battle with the best chance of winning. As soon as they gave up the initiative, they gave up the battle.
“I’ll be careful, Admiral. But you know I can’t always play it safe.”
Good girl, thought Beata. Don’t listen to the voice of caution when you know what to do. It was what Beata would have done in Halliday’s position, so her trust in the woman went up a notch.
“All ships,” she said to the com officer. “Prepare to go into hyper. We will drive to the target region and engage the enemy.”
The orders went out, Beata driving from her mind all thoughts other than the battle that lay before her. There was nothing she could do about what was going to happen at Klassek.
* * *
“We’re having some problems with the reactor fluctuations,” said the spacer engineering tech, looking at a holographic bar graph of the new power plant they had installed in the Gorgansha ship. Or actually, that the Gorgansha workers had.
Might as well call them what they are, thought the commander who was in charge of this installation, teaching the aliens what they needed to know to do it themselves. They’re slaves, plain and simple. That thought was distasteful to any of the Imperials. Especially to the humans who had learned the history of the home world in their basic history classes. Earth had evidenced many examples of slave cultures, through millennia of time, across continents. From several centuries before the conquest of the stars humans had been taught to hate the institution, to stomp it out at all costs. Most alien species they had met had felt the same. The Fenri didn’t, and neither did their mortal enemies, the Cacas. And now the Gorgansha. All treated their slaves as property, to be disposed of at a whim.
“We need to send someone into the chamber,” said the commander, looking over at the Gorgansha overseer. “Get some of your people suited up.”
“No need,” said the Gorgansha male, pointing to one of the slaves, a tall thin being with six limbs. It had been one of the ones trained to install the systems. The overseer started speaking in a high-pitched dialect that seemed to convey information quickly. The slave moved to the hatch to the reactor room and pushed the code into the door lock.
“You can’t do that,” yelled the engineer, making a move to grab the slave, too late. “The radiation.”
“Please, human,” said the Gorgansha overseer. “It is what it is for.”
The slave appeared on the viewer, walking quickly into the room and moving toward the direct control panel, the one set in the chamber to work on the reactor if the remotes malfunctioned, like they had here. He moved to the control and started pushing lit panels on the control board, his motions sure. The holo graph started to level out as the reactions came back under control. The one readout that didn’t and wouldn’t drop for some time was the residual radiation. The slave stepped away from the panel, started to turn, then stumbled and fell.
A couple of armor suited Gorgansha stepped into the chamber. In sending in the unarmored slave the aliens had saved almost a minute and a half. The commander wasn’t sure if that time savings had really been necessary, and not worth the life of the slave.
You cold blooded bastards, thought the engineer, glaring as the overseer, who returned the look with an unconcerned gaze. And not anything I can do about it, though I would love to put a particle beam into that slanted skull.
“The reactor is working up to specifications, sir,” said the tech, monitoring the process. “And we’ve reestablished the remote control of the device.”
“So, everything is good,” said the overseer, a smile on his face.
The commander nodded, while thinking that everything was not good. Not when they had to deal with a culture like this.
* * *
“Don’t look over there, Marine,” shouted the officer in charge, First Lieutenant Samantha Higgens.
“But, ma’am,” argued the private, his particle beam rifle in both hands, stopped in the middle of swinging toward the Gorgansha who had just put down another alien, this one of a species that could only be a slave on this world.
“We are not here to interfere in this culture, Marine,” said the officer, her faceplate up, revealing an angry expression on her face, tears in her eyes.
“But, that asshole just murdered that other alien.”
“That is within their laws, private. Now stand down.”
The private nodded and lowered his weapon, while the Gorgansha who had murdered the other alien proceeded to strip the clothing and other devices from the body of the being he had killed. His property. He didn’t look at the humans, sparing not a thought for them. As far as he was concerned he had done nothing wrong, nothing to be concerned about, though in the Empire he would have been facing charges of murder and possible severe punishment.
We’re not in the Empire, thought the private, wondering once again what he had done that had rated this nightmare of an assignment.
Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, he resumed his position of rest, holding his rifle at present, watching as other slaves unloaded the shuttles on the landing field. They were giving the Gorgansha more tech, more devices that would cement their power in this region. It sickened him to think that his government was complicit in this system. There was nothing he could do about it now, but when he got home he would be sending messages to his representatives in the commons. Then let the Imperial government continue to support these people.
One of the slaves stumbled and fell, pulling over the cart he had been using to unload the materials. They were all in sturdy containers, and nothing could have damaged them short of a weapon’s blast. The G
organsha overseer was having nothing of it, and pulled a sonic device from his belt pouch and went to work disciplining the slave, who cried out in pain and terror, trying to fend off the attack with no success.
The private could take no more. He stepped forward in his armor at high speed, his left hand reaching forward and grabbing the overseer by the shoulder if his garment. With a quick tug he propelled the Gorgansha thirty meters through the air to land hard on the tarmac.
“Private Wilkins,” yelled the officer, running over and putting an armored hand on his chest to keep him from pursuing the targeted male. “Stop. You are relieved of duty as of this moment. Report to the shuttle. You are to stay on the shuttle no matter what. And we will see what the captain has to say about your behavior.”
The officer leaned in, her lips close by the auditory pickup of the suit’s helmet. “I know how you feel, private. But we are Marines, and we are here to follow the directives of those above us. So get your ass back to the shuttle and I’ll see if I can save your career.”
Wilkins nodded, took one more look at the Gorgansha, who gave him a frightened look back. He turned on his heel and heading back to the shuttle, floating just above the field on his grabbers. At the moment he really didn’t care about a career helping people like these abuse other sentients.
Chapter Twenty
Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! Patrick Henry
“We are getting complaints from both the owners and the humans over the treatment of our slaves, Dread Lord,” said the subordinate over the com. From his expression the male was not happy to be making this report. The supreme dictator couldn’t blame him. In the male’s position he wouldn’t want to be reporting this to him either.
“How we treat our assets is not the business of the humans,” growled the supreme dictator, leaning forward in his ornate seat. “And their owners will do as I say, if they want to keep their heads.”
The lower ranking male bowed his head, refusing to make eye contact with his dread lord. Just as Gonoras preferred it.
“The other thing, Dread Lord, is that there appears to be talk among the slaves about the humans,” said the male, speaking quickly, as if that would make what he had to say go past the leader without giving him time to react.
“And what are they talking about?” yelled the supreme dictator, wondering once again if it had been a mistake to let the soft-hearted beings come down to the planet, or even to visit the stations and ships in orbit. It had been an imperative to let them aboard the vessels, so that the upgrading would advance as quickly as possible. But maybe not the planet.
“They speak of how the humans don’t have slaves, but have brotherhood with the other peoples in their empire. And how someday the humans might bring freedom to our space.”
The supreme dictator slammed a hand down on his chair arm and surged to his feet, his eyes glaring at the messenger. He knew better than to threaten one who brought bad news, lest he be isolated from the information he needed to rule. But he was tempted. “Any slaves caught speaking so are to be executed, immediately. In front of their peers. And I don’t give one damn what the owners think. They will be compensated, as long as there are not too many of them belonging to any one owner. Then the owner will be punished, for allowing his slaves to become so rebellious.”
The messenger bowed and waited. Gonoras waved a hand of dismissal and sat back in his chair, watching the other male flee the room. It was right that his people should fear him. That was the only way he maintained his power, through fear. That had worked for generations of supreme dictators, and would continue to be effective for many more. And when it was no longer enough, he had the battle bots he had ordered developed to impose his will.
* * *
“I have Admiral Halliday on the com, General Wittmore.”
Travis nodded and looked over at the holo that was springing into existence over his desk at the invitation he had sent through his implant. The face of an attractive woman appeared in the holo, not a raving beauty, but with intense and intelligent eyes looking out of a freckled face.
“General. I’m Rear Admiral Sonya Halliday. I’ve been instructed to follow your directives while I am here.”
Directives, thought the general. Not orders. So the admiral would do what he told her to do, but would determine how she was going to do it. Fair enough. He wouldn’t expect her to tell him what to do about ground combat, so he wouldn’t demand she maneuver her ships according to his commands.
“I expect you to keep them away from the planet, Admiral. And to reduce the number of missiles we have to deal with. Our planetary defenses are quite good, but not enough to stop a concentrated swarm.”
“Understood. Once we determine the enemy’s entry point into normal space, we will form a barrier between them and the planet. Any wormholes we can load aboard my ships?”
“You mean beside the gate?” asked Wittmore, pulling up a screen. “All of our wormholes went along with the force taken by Vice Admiral Lysenko when he headed out to challenge the Machines.” And got himself killed, while getting most of his command shot to hell, thought Wittmore. Lysenko had been known as a good leader, and good tactician. But the Machines had played on the human fallibility of thinking they were the masters of all situations, and he had led his force into a trap. One the humans had pulled on the Machines often enough, and should have expected eventually to be the recipients of the same tactic. Not all of his ships had been lost, but enough of them to reduce them to an ineffective force. “We have one you can have. The other three will be returning with the remains of Lysenko’s force.”
“Understood. Then I think we will take that wormhole aboard my flagship as soon as possible. I need to load up on as many missiles as I can to replenish my ships after they have exhausted their supplies. And I understand you have some wings of inertialess fighters.”
“Yes, Admiral. About four hundred of the things, if you think you can use them.”
Wittmore was sure she could use them. In fact, they had been in his mind when he had tried to talk Lysenko into staying in the system to meet the aliens.
“We’ll use them, alright. And I think my tactical officer has a plan that might just take them off guard. The one thing I can’t guarantee is that they won’t get something to the planet. That’s up to you, General Wittmore. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to see to my command.” The officer saluted, and Wittmore returned the honor, allowing her to be about her business.
“I see the Empire sent the ships you requested,” said the President of the planet some time later. “Did they send enough?”
“I think so, Mr. President.” But we won’t know for sure until they come at us.
* * *
“I want you to plan a surprise attack against the humans,” said Supreme Dictator Hraston Gonoras.
“You don’t mean to attack them, my Lord?” said the horrified chief of the planning staff. “We’re still at war with the artificial life forms, and in no manner are we their match.”
“Of course not, you fool,” said Gonoras, scowling, an expression that could send most of his people into paroxysms of terror. The male flinched before the glare, causing the male to cower even more. “Oh, quit cringing.” The dictator thought for a moment how the humans cringed before no one, and people underneath their leaders were not afraid to voice their opinions. He thought that might be useful in his people, as long as they didn’t carry it too far.
“I want us to have a contingency plan to attack and defeat them after the war with the artificial life forms is over. And eventually it will be over, and we will be faced with a fleet of these creatures still on our doorstep. I don’t trust them to not move against our people, and destroy our culture so they can supplant it with their own.”
“I, could see that, my Lord. But they are very powerful. And what abou
t the bulk of their Empire?”
“The only way we are going to defeat them is to strike by surprise, and destroy most of their warships before they know what is happening. They are a very intelligent people, but they are foolish as well. If planned properly we should have our ships in position to take them out while their defenses are down. As to their larger Empire, if such is really as large as they say? They are in a war with an even larger power, and I doubt they will be able to send more ships out to this region if we destroy what is already here. And while they are still waging war against their major enemy, we will continue to build our fleet, converting them to the hyper VII standard that is still not the majority of their vessels.”
The chief of the planning staff gave an eye blink of acknowledgment while his tail swished back and forth in agitation. The supreme dictator had been sure that his people wouldn’t like the idea, but what else could they do? The humans were militarily powerful, and politically weak. They were spreading ideas to those of his people they came in contact with, and he couldn’t allow those ideas to stand. He would first destroy their fleet, then execute those of his people who had the greatest contact with them. The society must be cleansed. And if everything went as planned, and they had eliminated the humans in this sector, his fleet would be the most powerful military force in this region of the galactic arm, and he could expand his empire.
The supreme dictator was almost salivating, a response to hunger his species shared with the humans, with anticipation of the worlds he would rule, the slaves he would take. And it would all happen once they were rid of the artificial life forms which were still the primary opponent of the moment.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 4: Retribution Page 27
