“Anything else, General Baggett?”
“I just hope I can get through the battle without another damned promotion,” said Baggett with a small chuckle.
“Don’t you worry about that. I have no plans of dying on that damned planet. And I will do everything in my power to make sure my plans for returning work out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Soldiers generally win battles; generals get credit for them.
Napoleon Bonaparte.
CAPITULUM, JEWEL, APRIL 8TH, 1002.
“I am so happy you are staying behind this time.” Jennifer looked at her husband with her liquid blue eyes and flashed him a breathtaking smile.
The pair were sitting in the blue small dining room, one of the cozier private chambers in the palace, just off of the huge kitchens that serviced the state dinners that were frequent events in the massive complex. A much smaller kitchen was part of the state kitchen, where the Emperor’s private chef labored to prepare the meals his charge enjoyed.
Sean looked up from the plate of poached eggs that had taken most of his attention to look at his lovely wife. Her face glowed with the beauty of her pregnancy. She was showing now, what had been a small belly bump out to a noticeable size. Natural pregnancy was still the norm, since babies raised in artificial wombs tended to exhibit personality problems, no matter their care. Not as bad as it was with clones, which were all murderous psychopaths. But enough of a chance at serious problems relating to others that no mother would risk anything but a natural pregnancy, despite the ten and half month ordeal that modern humans had to go through till childbirth.
“I can’t afford to be away from the capital at this time,” said Sean after he swallowed his egg, his eyes glancing for a moment at the flowering garden outside the large window. Brightly colored hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower, thrusting their beaks into the blossoms to extract sweet nectar. The Emperor thought it was hard to believe that a war was going on with a bucolic scene like that he was looking at. But that war was so far away that even the light from the battles being fought would take thousands of years to reach this system. “I think Lenkowski and the people under him can handle the situation.”
“They always could,” said Jennifer, looking at her husband from under hooded eyes. “You’ve just never wanted to admit that.”
“I should be with the Fleet when they go into battle,” said Sean, tossing his fork onto his unfinished eggs and standing up. “If not for the crisis confronting Parliament, my feet would be on the flag bridge of the command ship of my fleet.”
“Why do you have to be so stubborn,” cried Jennifer, getting up from her own chair and leaning on the table to glare at Sean. “You have a military chain of command to handle the war. You are the civil leader of the government in time of war.”
“I will not be a figurehead ruler,” growled Sean, slamming a hand down on the table. A pair of Secret Service agents poked their heads in the room for a moment, making sure that everything was OK, before leaving them alone to the argument that the guardians had become used to. Sean stared at the door for a moment before turning back to his wife, whose face was reddening in anger. “I never wanted to rule this damned Empire, but since I am in that position, I will rule it.”
“You’re so damned stubborn,” yelled Jennifer, standing straight, her hands going to her back to gain the extra support.
Just like you are, thought Sean with an inner smile. They argued, like all loving couples, only sometimes their arguments concerned matters of state.
“You’re just like Glen,” she said, her eyes throwing sparks. A moment later she realized what she had said, as Sean turned away and walked with slumped shoulders to the window. “I’m so sorry,” she said, hurrying over and putting her arms round him, pressing her body into his back. “I didn’t mean to throw that in your face.”
“Sometimes it feels like you settled for me, after you lost your Marine,” said Sean, clasping her hands with his.
“Yeah, I settled for the most powerful man in the most powerful star nation in this sector of the Perseus arm. I love you Sean, no matter what your hurt little boy feelings tell you. Just like your people love you.”
Sean turned in her arms until he was facing her, his own hands clasping her back. “What’s the crack about little boy feelings mean?”
“You’re not the completely self-assured monarch you want the Empire and the Galaxy to think you are. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right things. But someone has to make the decisions, and you are, unfortunately, that person.”
Sean nodded, knowing that she was right. He hadn’t trained for the position like his brothers had. It was never expected that the throne would be his, and yet it had fallen to him. And he had to make decisions that might later haunt him.
“I am afraid,” he told her, holding her body tight. “Now, more than ever. My military is about to embark on a rescue operation such as the known Universe has never seen, and I’m terrified of the outcome.”
“Those people would die if you did nothing,” she said, returning the embrace.
“And they may die from the action I am taking. And they aren’t even my subjects.”
“They’re people, no matter who they swore allegiance to. Or even if they swore allegiance to no one. They’re still human beings, and many of them may die because of your actions. But if you don’t act, all of them will, will you hear me, die.”
“We’ve never tried anything like this before,” said Sean, shaking his head. “This isn’t a standard operation.”
“Neither was your last operation, or the one before that. You’re forging new ground here. That is where your military genius resides, in the ability to listen to others and decide on the most audacious outrageous plans possible, keeping your enemy off guard.”
“And eventually a plan will not work out to our advantage,” he said, his eyes looking out on the garden again and its horde of hummingbirds. “Eventually I will lose.”
“And you told me that all commanders lose, sooner or later. That the true commander is one who can recover from a defeat and lead his people on to another victory. So chin up, my boy. Things will work out the way they will work out.”
“Your Majesty,” came a call over his personal com. “Could we have some moments of your time.”
“Of course, Admiral McCollum. Where are you?”
“At the Hexagon, your Majesty. I and my staff can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“No, you’ve got too much going on right now to leave your headquarters,” said Sean, kissing Jennifer on the forehead. “I’ll be there in fifteen myself.
“Duty calls,” he told his wife, kissing her again, this time on her lips.
“When will you be back?”
“Not until tonight. I have meetings all day. If only that damned bitch Zhee wasn’t such a pain in the ass. It’s not like she’s actually accomplishing anything, except give me a headache.”
“Make sure your valet gets a swipe at you before you leave the palace, you big lug,” she told him, putting a finger to the tip of his nose. “You have an image to maintain in public, even if you are a slob in private.”
* * *
“So that’s the gist of it, your Majesty,” said Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom, looking over from the holo that presented the Fenri front, all of the Imperial and allied assets highlighted in green, known enemy forces in red.
Sean stared at that map himself, wondering what else could go wrong. The war had seemed to be won on that front, his forces driving on the Fenri capital world, picking off important systems on the way. Now it appeared that one entire flank had collapsed, and the other two prongs were in retreated before they were cut off.
“I take it we haven’t left any of our troops behind in our retreat?”
“No, sir. Your orders were followed to the letter, and no people were left behind. We lost some ships implementing those orders, but…”
Something else the military can
blame on me, thought Sean as he felt his face heat in anger.
“It was the proper order, your Majesty,” said McCullom, reaching out and putting her right hand on his forearm. She gave it a squeeze. “It was in the best tradition of the Fleet. It does no good for anyone’s morale to let Imperial military forces be captured. Or pounded into dust from orbit, unable to defend themselves.”
“How bad was the bill?” he asked his Chief of Naval Operations, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“We lost eighty percent of our force coreward flank. It could have been worse, much worse,” said the Admiral hurriedly as she saw the stricken face of her monarch. “It was a very skillful ambush, almost carried out to perfection. It was a miracle that Admiral Glavin got out as much of his force as he did. Admiral Akai lost his entire wing, and his life. But Glavin was able to get out of the system, fighting against tremendous odds. His fighting retreat was instrumental in saving as much of the central force as we did.”
“And how much was that? The central force, I mean?”
“They were able to extricate about seventy percent of their force. We lost three of the systems we had taken from the Fenri, but the force was able to regroup at the Slavastra system. Unfortunately, Fleer Admiral Johanson lost her life in the battle.”
“And Admiral Glavin?” asked Sean, thinking the man who saved almost a third of the attack force from total destruction deserved some kind of reward.
“He was punished for his actions, of course,” said McCullom with a smile. “We promoted him to Fleet Admiral and put him in charge of the central force.”
“And where do we go from here on that front?” asked Sean, his quick mind calculating where his forces were already stationed, and coming up with little in the way of fast and ready reinforcements.
“Grand Fleet Admiral Mgonda is recommending that we attempt to maintain our present position while we reinforce him for the continuation of the offensive. Now, where we are supposed to get these reinforcements, on the eve of the operation in New Moscow, I really don’t know. We’re stretched very thin at the moment. What with the continued occupation of a good portion of Lasharan space, our campaign against the Ming, anti-piracy patrols, and the continued repair and refitting of vessels damaged in the large operation against the Cacas, and we just don’t have the ships. If we could get some more support from our allies, we might be able to reinforce Mgonda enough for him to hold what he already has.”
“The Crakista have already committed over half their fleet to the alliance, as have the Klashak and the Margravi,” said Sean, shaking his head. “They also have other commitments. I’ll see what I can get Elysium to ante up, but we’re already hearing squawking from their diplomatic corps about the losses they sustained against the Cacas.”
Sean laughed a moment at his own choice of words. Elysium was led by the avian Brakakak, a species descended from flightless carnivorous birds. And they did tend to make a squawking sound when they were alarmed or surprised.
“I think Mgonda will have to hold on with what he has until we finish liberating New Moscow,” said Sean, looking intently at the holo. “What about the situation in space to spinward of the Empire.”
“I have to assume that you’re talking about the singular people the Exploration Command has discovered?” asked McCullom, changing the holo to a view of the space in question. Of course McCullom, due to her position, knew where Bolthole was located in that space, but because of security it was not shown on the holo. The Klassek system was, of course, showing as a blinking icon on the map.
“Yes. From what I understand, they possess an ability that could be of great use to us in this war. Not that we wouldn’t evacuate a breeding population at the least if they didn’t have that ability.” That had always been the policy of the Empire. Intelligence was considered precious, and they would go to almost any lengths to make sure that an intelligent species survived, no matter their immediate worth to the Empire.
“I agree, your Majesty. From what the reports say, their quantum communications ability could be just what we’re looking for as concerns our inertialess fighters.”
“Which has yet to be proven to work in a warp bubble,” said Sean. The news of the discovery of a species of aliens who were quantumly entangled, at least the siblings from the same litter, had galvanized the thinkers at Fleet command. The connection was said to be instantaneous, and work through all the dimensions of hyperspace. But a warp bubble appeared to cut its interior off from the rest of the Universe. What that meant to a quantum entangled brain could only be speculated on, since there were no warp bubble inertialess fighters in that region of space to test them with. “But even if they don’t prove to be useful for communications in the fighters, they still have a talent we can use. I hate to be so cold blooded about it when their entire world is facing destruction from that close blue giant. But we don’t have enough wormholes to equip all of our ships with. I’m not even sure it’s desirable to give all of our vessels their own wormhole, since we still seem unable to move a wormhole through a wormhole. So these sentients would solve many of our com problems.”
“And you’re saying, your Majesty?” asked the CNO, raising an eyebrow.
“I want every resource we can spare from Exploration Command and Fleet Sector I mobilized rescue these people.”
“That will mean weakening our regular patrols in that Sector.”
“Then shift some ships from the other bordering sectors. I want as many of those people saved as we can manage. And I want adults of the same sibling groups when possible.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed the Admiral with a frown. “That will mean sacrificing some of the young we could otherwise save.”
“I know it’s a rotten way to do things, but we need to consider both the good of their species and the benefit they can be to the Empire. I realize we could save more children than adults in the hull space we can deploy, but we need those adults, now. That doesn’t mean not rescuing the young, but I want at least half the bodies on the rescue ships to be adult sibling groups. Is that understood?”
“Yes, your Majesty. Completely.”
And at least we’ll be rescuing more of them than otherwise, thought the Emperor. So they win, even as we win. So why do I feel so dirty ordering sentient beings into what will basically be indentured servitude to humans?
* * *
“Any progress to report?” asked the Admiral in charge of Core Sector Intelligence.
“We’ve learned that the Yugalyth are definitely working with the Cacas,” said Captain Ishuhi Rykio, sitting at his desk where he had been composing the report he was going to send the Admiral in a couple of hours. “It seems that our friends the Knockermen introduced the Cacas to the shape shifters during their little operation to take out the primary space station over the Elysium capital.” He didn’t need to add that in that same operation the Donut had almost been destroyed.
“We were afraid of that,” said the Admiral, her face looking out at him from the holo. “It seems that Elysium Intelligence has come to the same conclusion. There are still some Knockermen in revolt in their Empire, one of the reasons they have not been able to commit more ships to the alliance. But as far as a threat to us? Not really. But the Cacas? That’s a different story.”
Ishuhi nodded as he thought over the implications of the shape shifters working with the major threat to the Empire. It was bad enough that they had other operatives within the Empire, humans and aliens both, people willing to sell out their own species for some temporary comforts. But to have the shifters working for them as well, that was a counterintelligence nightmare. There were rumors that Imperial Intelligence also had double agents within the ranks of the Caca spy rings. Of course he knew better than to pursue those rumors, since, in his position, he didn’t have a need to know.
“Our interrogators believe they will be able to get a good neural scan of the mother in a few more days,” he told the Admiral. “We’re sure it isn’t telling u
s everything it knows, just enough to keep us from causing it undue pain.”
“Not that you’re likely to get much of use out of it with torture,” said the Admiral, nodding. “Our experience with them so far is that they have a high pain threshold, even if they don’t like it. And we could never really trust anything they gave us under torture.”
“It’s not telling us so, Admiral, but I believe this wasn’t the only mother in the Capitulum area. I couldn’t tell you how many there are, but even a couple are too many. The way these things reproduce, there could be thousands of operatives running about by now.”
“And as long as they don’t try to penetrate sensitive areas, we can’t scan them close enough to pick out the imposters,” agreed the Admiral. “We’ve asked the Imperial Judiciary to suspend privacy rights for the duration of the war, but so far they aren’t listening. And his Majesty doesn’t want to turn us into a tyranny if he can help it.”
The former police lieutenant thought about that for a moment. For the past five centuries, since the reign of Constance the Great and the change over from a parliamentary body of law to a constitutional monarchy, privacy had been one of the paramount rights of citizens. The suspension of privacy rights could only be ordered by the Supreme Judiciary, on evidence of major criminal conspiracy; or by the Emperor during time of war. They were at war, but even so the Emperor did not wish to suspend the rights of privacy for fear that the Empire might never recover. No Emperor had ever invoked that power since the establishment of the Constitution, and Sean did not want to be entered into the history books as the first.
“So what do we do?”
“We can blanket the public ways of the city with micro drones and nanites, and scan for these things on the hope that we turn up their genetic markers,” said the Admiral with a scowl on her face. “Not much of a chance, I know. These things seemed to be designed to escape detection. But maybe we can get lucky. Stranger things have happened.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 18
