Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers (Exodus: Empires at War.)

by Doug Dandridge

  Morris looked over at the damage schematic and felt his stomach sink yet again. The forward electromagnetic field projector was blinking red, and looking at the output figures, he could see that it was only operating at one quarter capacity. And the output was dropping. At their current velocity it was the same as plowing through a hard radiation field as they hit slow moving particles at their own fast speed. When the forward electromagnetic field dropped to nothing, they would be taking a deadly dose of hard radiation.

  They had killed an enemy capital ship, probably at the cost of their lives. In the cold equation of war, it was a bargain of a deal. But when he considered that it was his life in the balance, it was not a deal he would have taken if he had a choice.

  * * *

  Suttler looked again at the tactical holo and did not like the story that it was telling. The second wing of the inertialess fighters had passed, and there were still enemy ships in proximity to the planet. Unfortunately, some of the fighters had attacked on vectors that took them into a profile of some of the mostly harmless support ships. It really wasn’t their fault. They only had seconds to act, and they were limited by the targets that they could vector in on, which meant that many of the fighters found themselves only able to attack the support ships. That left three supercruisers within energy weapons range of Suttler’s ships. And fifteen ships, including four superbattleships, moving into that range.

  The space fort was also a concern, but it happened to be one hundred and eighty degrees around the planet, and it would be several minutes before it had a firing arc from its geosynch orbit. It was launching space fighters, which could put ordnance into the stealth/attack ships if they could find them. That was not so difficult now that the ships were firing away with everything they had. And when the fort got within firing range it was going to get worse.

  “Deploy the gates,” he ordered over the com as his ships continued to duke it out with the supercruisers. They were supposed to be bombarding ground targets by now, but they couldn’t take their attention off the enemy warships that were threatening their own existence. Under normal circumstances it would be a completely one sided fight. With their enhanced particle beams and missile launchers it was a fight the smaller ships could win, and the supercruisers were taking a pounding. But the equation would change when the other ships entered the battle. Even now the Caca force built around their heavy capital ships was knocking down the missiles being launched at them, and an energy weapons duel seemed obvious.

  “Gates are deployed,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  “The Admiral is asking what he should send through first,” called out the Com Officer.

  The plan had been for missile defense vessels to come through first, cruisers and destroyers, since it was thought that the first threat would be the missile volleys of the main Caca force on the outward heading. But now the threat had changed.

  “We need battleships,” yelled Suttler, turning toward the Com Officer. “We need ships that can take on those superbattleships.”

  “The Admiral is acknowledging, sir. First ships should be coming through in seconds.”

  True to his word, within seconds three of the now expanded gates had the noses of capital ships poking through them. It didn’t take long, even for ships coming through at less than three kilometers per second, for two Imperial superbattleships, twenty million ton vessels, and one standard fifteen million ton battleship, to enter the space around the planet. Moments later a fourth ship, another standard battleship, came through. The four ships immediately oriented themselves and sent volleys of missiles toward the oncoming enemy, while they locked on and fired their lasers and particle beams on the nearby supercruisers.

  A second set of battleships came sliding through the gates, while the near supercruisers were all put out of action. That was when the oncoming enemy sent out their first volley of missiles, enough to overwhelm the defenses of at least one ship if they targeted in that way.

  A third set of battleships, this also including one of the twenty million ton behemoths, came through the gate and started moving to interpose themselves between the portals and the enemy. The orbital fort moved enough under its grabbers to enter the fight, and the twelve battleships found themselves in a close in fight with an object that outmassed all of them together, while they continued to fire missiles at the enemy warships.

  * * *

  “Captain to all crew,” said Vladimir Schmidt over the shipwide intercom as HCS (His Czar’s Ship) Sevastopol headed for the mirrored surface ahead. “We are about to reenter our home space, on a mission to save the last of our people. Many of you feel that we lost all honor by leaving the Kingdom during its time of crisis, despite our orders to do so. I too felt that shame. Now we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Galaxy, and in the hearts of our people. We will not fail. To paraphrase the Spartans, at day’s end we will either be carrying our shields, or we will be on them. Our people will either be free, or dead. There is no third alternative.”

  The cold plasma shield was at full strength, laser rings fully charged, particle beam accelerators pushing their loads of protons or antiprotons up to their maximum velocity, missile tubes were loaded. Targeting information was flowing in through the com net, preparing them for the battlefield. There was a feeling of fear permeating the bridge, but it was overwhelmed by the emotions of eagerness and anger.

  The nose of the fifteen million ton battleship touched the mirrored surface of the wormhole traveling at two and three quarters kilometers per second. Transit took less than a second for the two and a half kilometer long capital ship. The battleship popped out of the gate at the same time as two Imperial superbattleships. Moments later the second of the New Muscovite ships came through, a former Imperial mothball ship now called Czarina Ekaterina, crewed by refugee spacers.

  “Target that supercruiser with all beam weapons,” ordered Schmidt, pointing to one of the close icons. “All missile tubes are to fire a volley at that farther force.”

  Sevastopol shook from a pair of particle beam hits from one of the supercruisers, its own beam weapons ripping through the hull of the smaller ship. One of the superbattleships joined in, blasting away at that one supercruiser, while four more restored battleships with New Muscovite crews came through the gates and added their fire to the mix.

  “Com for you from the Commodore,” called out the Com Officer.

  Schmidt nodded, and the holo came alive with the image of Commodore Sheila Stepanowski, aboard Ekaterina. “Vladimir. That fort will have a firing arc on the gates in six minutes.”

  “I see that, Commodore,” agreed the Captain, switching his side holo to a schematic view of the enemy fortress, which was using its own grabbers to boost outward and around the planet at a least time approach to a firing solution on the gates. It was in the process of launching the small Ca’cadasan space fighters, scores at a time. And it was spitting out missiles that moved onto a curving orbit that would take them to the gates in less than a minute.

  “We will attack that fortress, Captain,” ordered Stepanowski, her eyes narrowing. “If it is not stopped, we will be. Move your ship as close as you can to that fortress, taking out every missile and fighter that you can on the way in, and engage the fortress. We will follow and support you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, looking out over the bridge. “You heard the lady, people. Helm, put us on a heading toward that fortress, least time. Tactical, assign all secondary weapons to missile defense and knocking down fighters. Missile tubes are to fire at enemy ships until we have line of sight on the fortress. All beam weapons, fire on the fortress as soon as we can target it.”

  Acknowledgements came back and the bridge crew rushed to set the orders into motion. Schmidt looked over the holo, noting that all of the battleships, twelve of them, were moving on a course that would take them to the direct confrontation with the fortress, while four more battleships popped through the gates and moved into positions to protect those portal
s.

  Sevastopol shook as a missile from the fortress exploded a kilometer off the port side, hit by the lasers as it swept by on its way toward the gates. Fighters swarmed over the ship, firing low yield missiles at the big ship. The battleship started launching its own squadrons of short range fighters, sending the small ships out into a swarming dogfight where they had no protection other than their speed and maneuverability.

  “We’ll have a firing solution in fifty-three seconds,” called out the Tactical Officer. The main viewer showed the massive station from a composite of other feeds. The brilliant flashes of warheads detonating from hundreds to scores of kilometers away flared in the viewer as the station’s defenses took out incoming missiles.

  And they’ll have a firing solution at the same moment, thought the Captain, watching as the schematic showed the line of sight developing around the curvature of the planet. The battleship turned to its side, presenting its largest aspect to the fortress, allowing all of its beams weapons to come into play at the same time.

  “Firing,” yelled out the Tactical Officer as line of sight developed. The four laser rings put out their maximum strength x-ray beams, pentawatts of energy hitting almost instantly, while a quartet of particle beams struck a picosecond later. Half of each beam was bounced or deflected from the fortress’ electromagnetic field, the half reaching the armor burning its way deep into the nanocarbon reinforced alloy. A second later the return fire hit Sevastopol, and the ship shook from the transfer impact of its lasers.

  Warning klaxons sounded, a laser ring went offline, as did one of the side grabbers, and several sections of hull were breached. The ship kept its weapons firing full strength at the fortress, locked into a duel that could only lead to its own destruction. The Captain was beginning to think they had only come back to home space to die here, when the first of the Imperial Superbattleships moved into line of sight and added its own more powerful beam weapons to a battle.

  That attracted the attention of the fortress, which was now forced split its fire. Moments later the second superbattleship and Ekaterina moved into firing position, adding their fire, and eight more ships were on the plot, moving into the battle.

  * * *

  “Command. What is going on?” yelled Great Admiral H’rastarawaa over the com as the warning klaxons sounded.

  “My Lord. We are under attack.”

  “By what?” yelled out the Great Admiral in shock. He was two light hours within a system, and the only enemy that was he knew of was coming at them from that distant barrier.

  “My Lord. Unknown ships just appeared out of nowhere and took out our defensive satellite net.”

  “Unknown ships? What by all the Gods are you talking about.” The Great Admiral looked over at the tactical holo, noting the thirty or so red icons that were blinking on the display, smaller vector arrows moving away from them at ten thousand gravities. Even as he watched a hundred vector arrows, larger than those of the missiles, popped into existence. Seconds later smaller vector arrows separated from them, and many of his ships in orbit blinked and then faded from the display.

  Their stealthy ships, he thought of the first group of vessels, but he hadn’t a clue what that second set of ships was.

  Four more icons appeared as vector arrows, these very large vessels with ridiculously low velocity figures below their icons. There was no way they were stealth vessels, and they couldn’t have just appeared there, at such a slow speed. Even as he watched two things happened. Vector arrows appeared from the four icons, heading out to his other close ships, while four more of the large icons appeared.

  The Great Admiral reached out and touched one of the icons, and the holo zoomed in on the object, showing one of the human capital ships. But his eyes went immediately to the shining object behind it, which another capital ship popped out of. It’s one of their wormholes, he thought, zooming out the holo until he could see four of the gates as tiny dots. He reconnected to the fortress com system an instant later.

  “I want this station moved toward those wormhole gates. Launch fighters and missiles, objective the gates as well.”

  “But, my Lord,” said the Fortress Commander, appearing on the com holo. “I have ordered propulsion to keep us distant of those warships.”

  “You are to move closer. I want to be able to hit those ships and those gates with beam weapons.”

  “I don’t think we will last very long, my Lord,” said the Fortress Commander. “Shouldn’t we wait on the near ships to get closer, or the force on the way out to launch missiles and head back.”

  “They are bringing battleships across in those gates, you fool,” growled the Great Admiral. “If we wait, they will have a blasted fleet in orbit, and they will destroy us at their leisure. Now follow my orders.”

  The Fortress Commander acknowledged and dropped off the com. The Great Admiral felt the slightest of shudders as the massive station launched its first volley of missiles, and seventy vector arrows appeared, accelerating around to drop down slightly and move around the curve of the planet. The fighters had not appeared yet, but they would take time for their crews to arrive and launch them.

  “Send a grav pulse to High Admiral Lisantr’nana,” ordered the Great Admiral to the Com Section. “I want him to turn around and come back to the planet. I want…”

  The station shook again, this time in a different manner than it had during launch of its own missiles. Vector arrows showed on the tactical holo, disappearing as they were hit by counter fire. The station shook heavily as one got through, and the lights dimmed in the Great Admiral’s quarters for just a moment.

  “I’m sorry, my Lord, but that last missile was a hit, and it took out our grav pulse communicator.”

  “Then send a com to our other ships. One of them can contact him.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” said the Com Officer.

  “And then get me the Ground Commander. I want to know what’s going on down there.” The Great Admiral looked at the tactical holo again, this time feeling more confused than ever. The only reason for this kind of assault was to free the captives on the planet, otherwise they just would have come in from a standard approach, and saved this little surprise for some other time. But there seemed to be no assault ships, no transports, and no shuttles launching to land troops. Which meant they had either screwed up royally, or they had something else planned. But what?

  * * *

  Fleet Admiral Kelvin’s stomach turned as his flagship translated back into normal space. Fortunately, he had never had much trouble with translation, and it only took a moment to get his wits about him. Immediately he looked over at the tactical holo that showed the disposition of his fleet, half already in normal space, the other half still in hyper, getting ready to translate down.

  Constance the Great was centered in the holo, his flagship. Constance was one of the new super heavy battleships, and as far as the Empire knew, the most powerful ship in space, with more firepower than even the Ca’cadasan superbattleships. She massed twenty-seven million tons, and carried four wormholes, two connected to particle beam accelerators, two to missile accelerators, to augment her normal weaponry. Because of that she couldn’t use a wormhole gate herself. In fact, every ship in his command that carried a wormhole, less the stealth/attacks, was with him at this time.

  He checked for the location of the eight special ships, all blinking a slightly brighter green. All were standard hyper VI battleships, and all had been equipped with the force multipliers. Two of the pairs were in close proximity and were moving toward their teammates as he watched. The other pair?

  “Crap,” he said under his breath. One pair was at twelve light seconds apart, the other sixteen. Both of those pairs would take fifteen to twenty minutes to link, time which would be wasted. He expanded the holo and saw that the enemy force, picked up by its graviton emissions, was on its way toward him. He was heavily outnumbered as things stood, and they would swamp him with missiles in as little as a couple of hours.r />
  The first of the pairs drew within range, matching velocities to perfection, since anything else would spell disaster. Control was assumed by one of the ships for both vessels, its computer balancing the pull of their grabbers to keep the ships locked in the planned arrangement. Hooked up, the half frames on their hulls extended until they had made contact. Another couple of adjustments and the arms on one half frame slid into the other. Spacers exited the ships in armor and checked the connection. It took some more time, but it was better to waste time than have the frame come apart at the wrong moment.

  As soon as the spacers were out of the way the small silver dot was moved to the center of the frame encased in its smaller transport frame. With a rush of negative matter that was pulled outward by the powerful magnetic field of the main frame, the silver dot expanded in seconds until it filled the frame, and a wormhole ship gate was now in place, falling into the system at point two light, the same as the transporting vessels.

  It would still take some minutes for the ships on the other side to build up the addtional velocity so they could come through the hole and not fall back in immediately after entering the system. They would cut back on their grabbers before they came through, and hopefully the enemy wouldn’t even know they were there until some number of them had made it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Soldiers, when committed to a task, can't compromise. It's unrelenting devotion to the standards of duty and courage, absolute loyalty to others, not letting the task go until it's been done.

  John Keegan.

  PLANET NEW MOSCOW, EARLY MORNING, APRIL 8TH, 1002.

  “What the hell are we waiting for?” asked the sniper, peering through his scope at his first target. The scope was still unpowered, but was still a moderately powerful magnifying instrument despite that.

  “Calm down, Schmidt,” ordered Walborski, staring at the compound through his own glasses. “We can’t kick this thing off on our own.”