It seems like only minutes since I watched our own missiles take out the enemy force, he thought, his mind straying to the icons of the enemy ships, now less than a hundred, trying to flee the system on a number of different vectors. No ship was making over four hundred gravities, and most were doing much less, including twenty-two that were basically coasting in space. Now I’m watching the enemy’s attempt to erase me and my command bearing down on me.
His own force was coasting, as it had been for the last twenty minutes, having deployed the special missiles that had moved ahead at a mere couple of hundred gravities until they had gotten to the release point, just beyond the fighters that were stationed ahead of his fleet.
This incoming missile wave was even larger than the one he had survived hours before. That one had hurt, and he was sure the enemy hoped that this one, fifty percent larger, would hurt more. Of course, he had some more surprises deployed to face this one. He just hoped the performance of said surprises wasn’t a surprise for his side as well.
“Missile three minutes out from the fighter screen,” said the Tactical Officer. “They should be entering the Field any second.”
That was what the surprise was known by, the Field. Not an energy field like the electromagnetic screens their ships used, this was more like a mine field. There were five million of the objects coasting forward in space just a little faster than his fleet. There were no graviton emissions, almost no heat signature, nothing to really give them away to the sensor heads of the enemy missiles. Scattered among the one megaton yield bomblets were over a hundred of the new jamming missiles, also powered downed, along with five command and control platforms.
They waited until most of the missiles were within their mass before the warheads turned on their boost, acquired targets as best they could, and took off, all under the control of the specialized platforms, controlling them by grav pulse. An instant after they boosted the jamming missiles all detonated, sending out a wave of electronic and visual static that blinded the sensors on the great majority of the enemy seeker heads.
The min-warheads moved to their targets, most of which were still flying a straight path. Almost ninety percent of the bomblets lost lock when the jamming came up, and were blinded to an even greater extent when the missiles’ own ECM came up. Still, thousands of missiles were hit, and ten thousand more were destroyed as the bomblets flashed fire as their antimatter went off. Plasma and particles impacted on tens thousands of missiles, and if the particles were large enough the missile itself provided all the kinetic energy needed to destroy itself.
The remaining missiles forged ahead with no fear, no regrets over the destruction of their brothers. There were targets ahead, and they still had a function to fulfill. Next up was the fighter screen. All of the fighters that had survived in the previous screen had gone back to their launching ships and rearmed, then moved back to their positions, while hundreds more had come through gates, to raise the number in the screen to over two thousand. Now those two thousand fighters launched their missile defense weapons, over twenty thousand counter-missiles. An instant later every craft began firing their lasers, aiming for every missile that got through their counter-missile barrage.
Almost twenty thousand made it through, leaving over five hundred fighters killed in their wake. They immediately ran into a wave of counter-missiles launched from the warships, and several thousand more that had been launched through the gates on their tails. They took out over half the remaining missiles, leaving over nine thousand to hit the lasers, then the close in defenses.
Kelvin held on to his chair arms tight, watching the tide sweep in that could still destroy his command. The fear on the flag bridge was palpable, everyone feeling helpless in the face of the swarm. They might be in control of the fleet from this room, but there was nothing they could do to actually affect the outcome of this battle. That was up to the tactical and sensor departments of the individual ships.
Close in systems took out two thirds of the remaining missiles, leaving just under three thousand weapons getting to final approach phase. That was still enough to totally destroy the fleet. As they watched the close in systems continued to kill missiles, and now they were blowing up close enough to send waves of heat and radiation into the force.
“Launching final countermeasures,” called out the Tactical Officer, sending the command by grav pulse. New icons bloomed on the holo, hundreds of them, then disappeared as they detonated to fill space with jamming. An instant later several hundred more icons appeared, these broadcasting strong graviton, electronic, and heat signatures, while at the same time sending out radar and lidar pulses. Half the surviving missiles locked onto these new targets and turned into them at the last moment. One thousand warheads detonated with tremendous flashes, wasting most of their explosive power against five hundred ton objects that were of little importance.
Nine hundred and some odd missiles were still entering attack phase, aiming for whatever ship they had targeted. Over two hundred hit, and a hundred eighty-seven ships, from destroyers to superbattleships, converted to plasma. The rest were near misses, the more common proximity kill, and another forty-three ships joined the hits as total destructs.
Kelvin looked over his fleet moments after the attack. His flag had escaped unscathed. He wasn’t sure if that was fair, but he would take it. He still had over half his fleet, though many of those ships were heavily damaged. Forty percent of his original force worth of ships were still combat effective, he had destroyed the only major enemy force in the system, and there were still some reinforcements heading his way, as soon as the ships that had missed transit had come around and gotten back in line.
And we still have another enemy fleet heading our way, and we’re low on the weapons that won this last engagement.
“Admiral Lenkowski is on the com, sir,” said the Com Officer.
“Give it to me in my day cabin,” he told the officer. Now I get my congratulations, he thought as he got out of his chair and headed off the bridge. And the bad news.
Epilogue
KINGDOM OF NEW MOSCOW SPACE, APRIL 10TH, 1002.
“Thirty-seven hours to the system, my Lord,” announced the Navigator, looking back from his console.
High Admiral Jarrassand’ra Kiritopath gave a head motion of acknowledgement and continued to stare at the plot. Only thirty-seven hours to the system, which he had to hope was still in the hands of his people. He had thought sending his fleet in after the defeat of the combined invasion force was a bad idea. But the outer force commander had not been interested in what he had to say. As soon as the first ships came in, fleeing from the border regions of the largest of the human polities, he had ordered every ship available to head to this New Moscow, which the commander hoped the Ca’cadasans still held. And so the High Admiral had followed the orders of the Great Admiral in charge of the forward base, and had assembled the force within hours before boosting this way.
The High Admiral looked at the system in relation to the overall plot of the area. He had to admit that continuing to hold here would give them a continued toehold in human space, one far enough from the major human polity to be away from the main fleet bases of the enemy, but close enough to be reinforced quickly from the Empire. As long as they have the ships to send to us, he thought. Those ships had not been evident at base when he had left, and he hadn’t heard of any forthcoming from deeper in the Empire.
“Is there anything we can do about those ships that have been shadowing us?” the High Admiral asked his Tactical Officer.
The enemy vessels had been in extreme sensor range for several days, staying close enough to keep track of the Ca’cadasan force, but far enough out to be able to avoid anything sent their way. He hadn’t believed the reports of the humans catching up technogically with his people until now, but those ships were fast, able to traverse hyper VII, and with acceleration to match anything he had.
“I don’t see how, my Lord,” said the officer. “And I d
on’t think they are anything more than a nuisance.”
The High Admiral turned back to the plot with a grunt. Of course they were nothing more than a nuisance, unless they were sending data back to their fleet. The rumors of them being able to make wormholes had run rampant back at the forward base. The High Admiral didn’t know how much truth there was in that, but if the claims were even half true, whatever enemy force was in this space could know the entire composition of his force.
Well, we’ll find out if they know about us in thirty-seven hours, he thought. And even if they did, if a friendly force was there to greet him in the New Moscow system, it wouldn’t matter. His force would be much larger at that point, and he would have a fortified system to fight in. The High Admiral dismissed the feeling of impending doom and concentrated on the victory he would win once he was in that system and the humans came calling, not knowing what they were up against.
* * *
Lenkowski stared at his own holo as his force sped toward the New Moscow system. They were up to point nine seven light, as fast as he dared to push it. A wave of nausea went through his gut, a sign of the extra rads he was taking. Unfortunately, at the same time they were taking more rads, the nanites in their systems were being broken down, and with them their ability to heal. The docs told him that everyone should survive once they slowed down and were re-injected with the nanites in storage behind their isolation fields. Still, there would be some mighty sick people aboard until that happened.
Thirty-seven hours, he thought, looking at the enemy fleet on the plot. They’ll get there in thirty-seven hours. And the Republic force won’t make it for forty-five hours, and my own force for eighty-five. Which means they’ll be on their own in the system for eight hours before even the insufficient reinforcements of the Republic arrive.
He worried about those people who would be fighting a superior force right after fighting the battle to win the system and the planet. There was nothing he could do about it. Everything that was going to get to the system was already on the way, including the reinforcements coming through the wormhole net.
If we had more of the new weapons it would be one thing, he thought. They had used up all of the newest toys in the battle to take the system, and it would take time to get more from the factories out to the fleet. His ships had some of them, but there was no way he could get them to those other ships any faster than he could his own force. His wormholes all reached back to the Donut, and it would take time to ship the weapons from his ships that didn’t have wormholes to the ones who did, then through piecemeal to the station, where they would have to be loaded onto ships before transiting the ship gate net. They might get there in time, but the odds were against it.
Kelso will just have to fight smart, him and that Crakista admiral when she arrives. He knew that Kelso was a good officer, a master tactician who had earned his rank. He knew nothing about the alien, except that the Republic had trusted her with its battle fleet. Which he hoped meant she was a smart officer as well. Because she would have to be smart if they were going to win that fight.
* * *
SECTOR IV.
Emperor Sean Ogden Lee Romanov stood on a hill overlooking the field, surrounded by his security, watching the people who continued to come through the wormhole gate. A good portion of the remainder of the Kingdom of New Moscow, flooding the field as they were directed to the vehicles that would take them to their shelters.
There were men and women, mostly of indeterminate age. There were some children along with them, but due to the present structure of human society based on current biology, they were normally less than ten percent of the population unless it was a developing or frontier world that wasn’t under population restriction. There seemed to be much fewer than that percentage out there. Of elderly, which only accounted to less than five percent of human society on any world, again due to the human aging process in the improved population, there were even fewer than expected as compared to the children.
Sean felt sick to his stomach as he thought about that dynamic. In the brutal confines of the camps, the survival rate of the young and old must have been the lowest of all within the compounds. But soon New Moscow, once it was restored to its people, would again be filled with children as the people attempted to rebuild their nation.
“We’ve gotten over three million out through this gate so far, your Majesty,” said Major General Carla Manuel, standing a half meter from the Emperor, watching the same scene unfold. “From that figure, we can estimate that one hundred and twenty-five million have been evacuated so far.”
From what? Seven hundred and fifty million. Sean shook his head as he looked down on that crowd. His augmented eyes, part of his genetic heritage, zoomed in as he looked from face to face. He could see the genetics of human race on those faces. People tracing their ancestry to legendary places from old Earth. Africa, Asia, Europe, the Americas and the Pacific islands. And mixtures of all of those people.
Sean himself was a mixture of all the best old Earth had to offer, the genes of his ancestors enhanced. His skin tone was the dark tan of the many ethnic groups of humanity blended together, his almond shaped ice blue eyes a mixture of several continents, his dark red hair a rarity among any peoples. He had the Africa American strain of the Streeters, the pure African of the Mgondas, the Chinese heritage of the Lees, and the European genetics of the Ogdens and Romanovs, all in his line. He was supposed to be the best that humankind had to offer. And he was still a flawed ruler, and people died because of his inadequacies.
“We have a message from the Capital, your Majesty,” came a call over his implant.
Sean acknowledged with a sinking feeling, wondering what else might have gone wrong. He linked into the com, which was coming through the wormhole network with a priority code.
“Your Majesty,” said the voice of Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom. “We’ve just received news from Commodore Sung.”
The Emperor felt his heart speed up. Natasha Sung was in charge of the mission to contact the other enemy of the Ca’cadasans, the one they were said to be fighting on the other side of their Empire.
“They’ve made contact with the people they were sent to find. And you aren’t going to believe who they are.”
THE END
Appendix A: Glossary
Aether Paddles: Grabbers. Units that utilize the space warping powers of energized superplatinum to grip the actual fabric of space and pull their attached object along. Used in everything from battle armor to large ships.
Augmentation: Also known as Enhancement. Retroactive genetic and biological engineering of humans. Through the use of nanotech enhancements are made to the human genome, resulting in faster and stronger people with the sensory systems of the best found in nature. Upgraded glandular systems. Ninety-five percent of augmented also have reduced lifespans, though some exceptional genomes do not experience this, and pass their traits down to their descendants.
Bolthole: Imperial industrial system in the process of being established a thousand light years outside the boundaries of the Empire. Planned as a unassailable arsenal and last refuge of the Empire.
Capitulum: Capital City of the Empire, home of the House of Lords and the Imperial Palace. 3 billion citizens living in 375,000 kilometers of city.
Catastrophic Translation: The movement of an object from any of the hyper dimensions to normal space through hitting a hyper barrier or losing its protective hyperdrive field. The result is a translation in which matter is disrupted, resulting in the probably destruction of the ship and all aboard.
Class III Systems: Mostly agricultural worlds, 763 worlds in 748 systems, with a combined population of 88 billion.
Class V Systems: Economically important and military systems, 307 planets with 5.5 billion citizens.
Cloning: Reproduction of organic material by the artificial stimulation and growth of cells. Cloning of food and body replacement parts is widespread, but the reproduction of a complete sophont
is illegal in any of the human polities, due to the fact that clones are somehow different. Human clones completely lack a conscience, no matter their upbringing or training. It is unknown why.
Com Net: Network established on all Imperial planets allowing all citizens access to communications and data services anywhere on the planet.
Core Worlds: Class I. The oldest and most developed of the planets of the Empire, with populations in the billions. Population is restricted, as are births, and by law fifty percent of the land area of the world must remain pristine wilderness. 98 inhabitable planets in 91 systems, within two hundred and fifty light years of the Central System. 380 billion citizens.
Cyborgs: Living beings with integrated mechanical and electronic systems, such as fiber optic nerves and communication implants. Technically, all humans in high tech society are cyborgs, incorporating as they do data and com implants, and nanite augmented immune systems. True cyborgs have much more intrusive implant architecture, including biomechanical nervous and muscular systems. All enhanced soldiers, such as Rangers, Naval Commandos and Marine Recon have passive implants such as bone reinforcement.
Developing Worlds: Class II systems. 294 inhabited planets in 277 systems, with a population of 185 billion (21 billion alien) citizens.
Dole, The: Living wage payments to the great majority of citizens of the Core Worlds. Supervised robotic factories produce the products needed to sustain society to the point where employment is not possible for most Core World citizens. The Dole allows them to survive with some luxuries such as in house entertainment, but not much else. Citizens who wish to improve their lot compete for the jobs that are available.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 38
