The attack came out of nowhere, heard by the rustling of the leaves in the trees before it was seen. The Rangers reacted like the men they were, turning toward the sound, their weapons ready. A half score of the creatures came flying out of the forest, hard for the eye to track as their chameleon like fur blended the jaguar sized creatures into their surroundings.
One hit Slater in the chest, its hundred and fifty kilo mass knocking the big man down onto his back. Only the swift reflexes of the Ranger saved his throat as he interposed his arms in the way. Two of the beasts went down with darts in them, while one took the molecular blade of a human through the side of its neck, severing its spine. One Ranger was the target of two of the animals, and though he handled one of them, the other was able to get its jaws around the man’s throat and tear it out.
Cornelius grabbed one of the animals with his left hand gripped into the fur behind its neck. The creature still blurred before his eyes, and his fingers almost bounced from the flesh before he could get his grip. With a hank he pulled the creature from the ground and plunged his monomolecular blade into the side of the predator.
The animals were smart, and realized quickly that they had taken on more than they could handle. Seven of them took off with howls, running into the forest, their camouflage blending them into the trees while they were still pushing through the first layer of underbrush.
“I think Quang is gone, sir,” said Slater, kneeling down beside the Ranger who lay on his back with his throat torn out, blood pumping into the air.
“Not if I can help it,” said the Captain, pulling his Ghilley suit from his body, then picking up Quang. The brain was what they needed to be saved. If the brain died there would be no coming back. Troops in armor had the luxury of cryo systems which could preserve that organ, but Rangers did not. They did have nanobubbles in their systems, more than an unaugmented human did, which would continue to release their oxygen to the brain, but without life there was no blood pumping through the organ to provide the sugars needed for continued metabolic function.
“Twenty-five minutes,” he told Slater. “He’s got twenty-five minutes until there’s no chance of recovery.”
“It took us fifty minutes for us to get to this point on the way out,” said the Sergeant.
“Then I’ll have to move a bit faster,” he told Slater as he picked up his dying man and slung him across his shoulders. “The rest of you follow at normal speed.”
“We could send someone with you, sir,” said another of the men. “It’s not safe to go it on your own.”
“I’ll make less noise alone,” said the Captain, turning, making sure he had the weight settled properly, then taking off in a jog.
It felt cooler without the suffocating heat of the Ghilley suit. Still, the sweat rolled down his face, while branches and leaves smacked him, a few drawing blood. To his sensitive ears it sounded like he was one of the great beasts of Sestius bumbling through the jungle, though he knew he made little that could be heard more than twenty meters or so into the jungle. He worried that he might be giving off enough heat without the insulation of the suit to be picked up through the canopy, though the odds were slight. The greater danger was that something from that jungle would hear him and come to investigate, hoping for an easy meal. He doubted it would find one, but anything that slowed him down reduced Quang’s chances of resurrection.
He realized he wasn’t going to make it at his current speed and sped up, going from jog to run in a couple of steps. The body on his shoulders weighed on even his great strength, while his lungs battled to pull enough air in to feed his muscles.
I’ve run farther and faster before, he thought as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace to a sprint. A branch smacked across his face, temporarily blinding him, and he stumbled a few steps while he tried to clear his vision. It came back quickly, if a little blurry, and he increased his pace once again.
Something came jumping out of the jungle behind him, and a huffing sounded from the gully as some creature ran after him. Cornelius spun as he ran, back peddling, to see one of the things that had torn out his man’s throat coming after him. Hoping there were no more, he tossed Quang to the ground, drew his knife, and braced himself for the creature. It gathered its legs underneath and leapt for the Ranger, who moved at a speed like nothing it had ever seen to punch his knife into the ribs of the beast while falling back. He completed the move with his legs thrusting into the stomach of the predator, lifting it over as he pulled his knife from its body in a draw cut. The beast let out a plaintive howl and landed down the path, lying on its side, struggling to breath.
Cornelius was tempted to leave it such, to die in agony for having the effrontery to delay him in his mission to save one of his men. The old hunter in him wouldn’t let him do it, and he hurried over to the side of the predator, cursing himself for a fool the entire way, and buried his blade in its skull. The beast shuddered once, then lay still, and the Captain sheathed his blade and picked his man back up into the shoulder carry.
Taking a few stumbling steps, Cornelius regained his balance with the dead weight on his shoulders and started off at a jog, increasing to a sprint in a few seconds. With every quick step he prayed. That nothing else would get in his way. That he would not be discovered by Caca surveillance, which he was sure there had to be in these woods. That he would get Quang to base in time for him to be recovered.
His breath was ragged as he climbed out of the gully and headed the last fifty meters into the tunnel. People were there, guarding that entrance, and the hands of other Rangers help to lift Quang from his shoulders and lay the man in one of the emergency cryo units that were stored there with the portable aid station.
Cornelius fell against the wall as his man was frozen, to await recovery by nanotech. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, letting his body cool as he took in deep breaths, too winded to talk. His eyes were locked on the cryo unit, fully expanded to handle the body that lay within it. He wasn’t sure what the result would be. Full recovery? Or none? Or something in between, a partial recovery in which most of the man’s personality survived, but many of his memories were missing?
Twenty minutes later the rest of the squad came through, and it looked like there had no compromise of their mission.
Chapter Ten
Genocide is not just a murderous madness; it is, more deeply, a politics that promises a utopia beyond politics - one people, one land, one truth, the end of difference. Since genocide is a form of political utopia, it remains an enduring temptation in any multiethnic and multicultural society in crisis.
Michael Ignatieff.
CAPITULUM, JEWEL, APRIL 5TH, 1002.
“I really don’t care what the bastard had to say,” said Sean in a roar, glaring at his Intelligence Chief. “You really don’t believe any of that crap, Mary?”
“We were monitoring him while he was speaking, your Majesty,” said the Commodore, her eyes dropping under that glare. “As far as we can tell, he was speaking the truth. As far as he knew.”
“And what of it? Are we supposed to take pity on him and his people, because they were once the victims? While they try to erase us from the Universe, just because their psychology was different than ours? Just because they wanted some damned heir to have conqueror appended to his name.”
“He still thinks his people will win, your Majesty. But I think we have sown the seeds of doubt in his mind.”
“It would be nice if we planted those seeds in all of their minds,” said Sondra McCollum, looking over at her Emperor.
“Though in a way it’s better that they remain the arrogant bastards they have been,” said Sean, looking down at the table. He chewed his lip for a moment, then looked up at his Intelligence Chief. “It serves us better if they proceed from arrogance, and continue to make the mistakes we know they are capable of. If they get smart, our troubles increase.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then over at the holo that showed the the
ater of operations. “We kick off the operation in three days. I wish it could be sooner, so we could save those lives that will end in those three days. But my military people assure me this is the soonest we could move with any great chance of success.”
“That is true, your Majesty,” said McCollum, looking him straight in the eyes with an unflinching gaze. “I don’t like the idea of those innocents dying any more than you do. I’ll have nightmares about the children for the rest of my life.”
Sean nodded. All of them had seen the vids and stills sent back from New Moscow, first the shots from space, followed by those from the ground. The heart-rending scenes of people in the rags of clothing that even modern fabrics could become after time and lack of care. All were thin, the look of starvation on their faces, unlike the well fed populace that all remembered of New Moscow. Worst of all were the children, huddled within the protective arms of adults when there were any who cared for them. Or sitting off alone, frightened with no comfort, trying to become as inconspicuous as possible.
“I wonder how the Cacas would like it if we visited the same thing on them,” said McCullom.
Commodore Innocent cringed at those words, and Sean knew what she was feeling. If the war went on the outcry for revenge might reach the point where even he couldn’t control his Fleet, or the soldiers that they deployed. There would be counter atrocities. Many of them, and humanity would have to live with those as well.
“I’m willing to kill as many Cacas as necessary to win this war,” he told the two officers. “Even if that includes every one of their warriors. But I will not countenance the slaughter of their children merely because it’s possible.”
But he couldn’t be everywhere at once, or watch everything. And he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t commit an atrocity or two against the Cacas if he thought he could get away with it.
* * *
FENRI SPACE, APRIL 6TH, 1002.
“The enemy force is just where we predicted they would be,” announced Flag Captain Mara Savatoni to her Admiral.
“That’s what worries me,” replied Admiral Theodosius Glaven, the commander of the right wing, the hammer, of the attack force. “When did the Fenri become so damned predictable?”
“Maybe when they found they had to defend more than they were capable of doing,” said the Flag Captain. “They have to hold all of these systems. Without them, they lose almost a quarter of their industrial capacity, over a third of their shipbuilding industry, and leave us just one step away from the capital. Why wouldn’t they attempt to defend all of them, sir?”
“It still bothers the hell out of me,” said the Admiral, looking at the tactical holo that showed the fifteen hundred ships of his fleet moving across the hyper barrier into the Shrivas system. Another concentration of ships showed on opposite side of the system, the seventeen hundred vessels of Fleet Admiral Jumar Akai, coming across the barrier on that side in a wide spread meant to keep any enemy ships from escaping. Inside the system, mostly clustered around the habitable planet, were eight hundred vessels of the Fenri defensive force. There were maybe two hundred other ships scattered around the system. They still outnumbered the entire Fenri force three to one, in mass five to one. Each of the two Terran Fleets, which included three hundred allied ships, individually outmassed the enemy over two to one. It looked like a foregone conclusion. And that bothered the introspective Admiral the most.
“Orders coming in from Admiral Akai,” called out the Flag Com Officer. “While he moves his force in and completes his blocking position, we are to move in on a least time profile for the planet.”
“Any sign of hidden enemies?” asked Glavin, looking over at his Staff Tactical Officer.
“No, sir. If they’re hiding, they’re doing a damned good job of it at quite a distance.”
“Very well.” He looked over at his Com Officer. “Send command out to all task groups. Least time profile to the planet. Accel at four hundred and eighty gravities.” Not all of his ships were the most modern, and four hundred and eighty gravities was the maximum of some of his older battleships. He looked back over at his Tactical Officer. “I want a close watch kept on any anomaly that might creep onto the plot. I really don’t like this, and I won’t be happy until we’ve crushed their fleet.”
The tactical officer acknowledged, and the Admiral lay back in his command chair to study the central plot. The ships sat still in orbit around the planet, seen through the visual sensors that reconstructed their images across the distance, showing them as they had been over two hours before. Some of the vessels were moving, out from the planet, detectable by their graviton emissions. But not enough of them. This is damned peculiar, thought the Admiral. The enemy had to know they were there from their translation signature. And now from the graviton emissions of their acceleration. Even if there wasn’t anything they could do to stop the Imperial force, he thought they would at least try to reach an advantageous position to take as many of the Terran force with them as possible.
The Fenri might have been bastards, slaving conquerors who had destroyed entire civilizations on their rise to Empire. But they had never been accused of being cowards, to freeze in fear at an oncoming enemy.
An hour and a half later his force was forging ahead at point four five light, over twenty light minutes in from the barrier. It would take over two hours to come to a stop before heading back out, and four and a half hours from there to get back to beyond the barrier, at which point they would still have to decelerate down to point two light to jump into hyper. No matter what, they couldn’t get out of the system and into hyper in less than eight hours.
“It looks like that’s all there is, sir,” reported the Tactical Officer.
“Then why aren’t they responding?” asked Glavin. About a hundred of the ships were still on the move, from their signatures all destroyers and smaller. They were seeing the images of cruisers and battleships still in orbit, and now receiving returns from radar and lidar. The most combat capable ships in the enemy force were still sitting there, not even generating electromagnetic fields. He had to wonder if the vessels had been abandoned, if the crews were down on the planet in the face of opposition they knew would kill them all. Again, not something he had expected from the Fenri.
“Get me Admiral Akai on the com,” he ordered, his chin in his palm, elbow resting on the arm of his chair.
The face of the five star flag officer appeared on a holo hanging in the air in front of his chair. “What is it, Theodosius?” asked the higher ranking Admiral.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Admiral. The further I get into the system, the more it has the feel of a trap. I really don’t like what the enemy ships are doing. It makes no sense.”
“We’ve caught them flatfooted, Theodosius,” said Akai with a predatory smile.
“But we shouldn’t have caught them flatfooted. They had to know this was one of our primary targets. They should have either had a better defense plan in place, or just abandoned it so they could use the ships elsewhere.”
“I’ve never thought much of the Fenri,” said Akai, scowling for a moment. “Oh, they’re brave enough. But their leadership truly sucks. They have some decent tacticians in command of small task groups, but their strategists are horrible.”
“My Tactical Officer has estimated that your force would take over three hours to extricate from the system and get back into hyper, sir. And over eight hours for my force to do the same.”
“And your point?”
“Neither of us is capable is getting out of the system if an enemy moves in hyper to come in behind us.”
“And I doubt that will happen, Theodosius. We’ve got these assholes just where we want them. Anything that comes out of hyper would be smart enough to see what they face and get the hell out of here. Don’t be such a worrier. We have…”
“We have translation into hyper. Five thousand contacts at ten light hours.”
“What,” stammered Akai, his eyes looking away fr
om Glavin to some other holo.
“They’re coming in behind you, sir,” shouted Glavin as he watched the arrows appear on the plot, in hyper II and on a least time profile for, what? “Tactical. What are they up to?”
The officer in question was working his board furiously, inputting the data he wanted and reading the results. “I think they’re going to come out right at the hyper II barrier, fire missiles, then duck back into hyper I as they pass the II barrier.”
“Sir, you need to move your ships closer together, to give them the best defensive formation possible,” Glavin told the other Admiral, who did not have to listen to anything he said. He looked over Akai’s formation, already sure that they would still be dispersed when the enemy missiles reached them.
An hour later the enemy force came out of hyper, right at the hyper II barrier as predicted. Every ship in that force fired, and an overwhelming grouping of missiles headed toward Akai’s force, followed by a second and then a third volley. As soon as that volley left the tubes the ships translated into hyper I and started pouring on the vector changing acceleration.
“We can’t get out of the system before they come up behind us and launch, sir,” said the Tactical Officer.
“Then we don’t try to leave the system,” said Glavin, looking at the tactical holo that showed the enemy force curving around the system through hyper I while the three volleys of missiles headed toward the other Terran force. “All ships are to head inward at maximum fleet acceleration. We will blow past the planet and destroy all of its infrastructure, while we engage the following volleys at the most advantageous position possible.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 14
