Great Admiral Miierrowanasa M'tinisasitow looked at the holo tank and gave a snort of appreciation. Twenty more vector arrows had just appeared at the edge of the plot, figures showing their velocity as they moved toward the fleet. Fifteen more were slowing to a stop at the anchorage. There has to be almost ten billion tons of shipping out there, he thought, cataloguing the battleships, scout cruisers and escorts that were forming up. And that doesn’t include the force on their way to the smallest of the polities, and the scouting forces already within the space of the largest.
The Great Admiral turned away from the plot and looked at the viewer that showed the great bulk of the logistics base that was going up here, beyond the hyper VII limit of the great blue star. The star itself was nothing more than a painfully bright pinpoint in the distance. The base was by no means complete, but more freighters were arriving every day to add to its mass, until it was a complete half billion tons of station. They were following standard Ca’cadasan practice of establishing a base of operations, even though they hoped to capture hundreds of systems within the first phase of the operation.
“It is impressive, my Lord,” said Low Admiral Mrrissramwatta Hrisshammartanama, commander of one of the assault forces.
“Yes,” agreed the Great Admiral, glancing back at his subordinate, then back at the viewer. “Three separate conquest fleets in the same region. Something that this part of the Galaxy has never seen.” Though it must be common enough on the other frontier of the Empire, thought the supreme commander.
On that frontier the Empire was fighting an enemy such as they had never seen. An Empire of great if unknown size, that for some reason did not see its eventual consolidation into the Ca’cadasan Empire as a good thing, and was protesting that eventuality with great vigor. Despite that he had still gotten more units assigned to his command, with more coming. Because this was the species that had betrayed its surrender and killed an Imperial heir, and as such much suffer the full wrath of the Empire.
“You still intend to proceed with the attack plan, my Lord,” continued the Low Admiral.
The Great Admiral turned quickly on his subordinate, then noticed that there were a half dozen more high ranking officers with him. “What is this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Nothing more than an attempt to see if you might change your mind, my Lord,” answered the Low Admiral, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group. “Beyond that, nothing at all.”
The Great Admiral took the officer at his word, but still called for his marines on the link. He wasn’t about to take a chance of a coupe, unlikely as that was in a hierarchy like that of the Empire, where everyone knew their place.
“I believe that this plan is the best,” said the Great Admiral, giving a head toss of agreement with his own speech. “I feel that it is best to disrupt all three of the human polities at the same time.”
“And we feel that it would be best to roll over the smallest kingdom, this New Moscow, first. Then to go after the second.”
“And I feel, though it really is not your concern, that if we attack New Moscow the other two polities will rally,” said the Great Admiral, his voice rising. “And then we will be facing both of the other aroused Empires of the Humans.”
“But it is standard doctrine to take one opponent at a time,” said the Low Admiral, the males around him giving head shakes of agreement.
“And this is a new situation,” said the Great Admiral. “We have never before had to contend with one species that had multiple kingdoms that are both in competition with each other and allies.” Though how a species could split into such a conglomeration of competing factions was beyond any of their thought patterns. That the humans being such a race of individualists might account for their disconcerting habit of progressing at such a rapid rate. That was something the Empire had never before encountered, being used to rolling over less advanced or less weighty opponents throughout their long history
“Very well, my Lord,” said the Low Admiral, giving a bow of respect. “It is yours to decide.”
“That it is,” agreed the overall fleet commander, turning back to the holo and zooming in on some ships that were mating up, two scout cruisers and four escorts to a battleship, prior to moving to their deployments. He turned back to his officers and clasped both his lower hands to his chest in salute. “Now it is time to start. For the Emperor.”
“For the Emperor,” growled the officers, returning the salute. They turned and left the room, and the Grand Admiral breathed a sigh a relief. Mutiny was not a tradition in the Ca’cadasan Empire. Obedience was. But being in the presence of so many hormonally driven alpha males was always a tension builder.
The Grand Admiral turned back to the holo plot and watched as the groups of ships began to drop off as they translated into hyper and started on their missions.
Chapter 1
Some people like to say that aliens have souls. I don’t know for sure whether they do or not. But I do know that if they do they are not like ours. Our souls are connected to our God. The same God that is worshipped in many forms by our major religions. The God of the Universe, the creator of all. Aliens do not worship this God. Instead they worship lessor beings who cannot truly be called Gods. So they do not have souls in the same sense as we do. Mankind has been given by God the right to govern the beasts of the airs, land and seas. And aliens are not better than these.
Speech by Theo Streeter, Duke of Coventry, to the Humanity First Party.
“And that’s about all I can get away with on that front,” said Field Marshal Betty Parker, the Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps. “Any more and the Lords will be screaming bloody murder. “On the positive side, all of my Marines will ship with heavy battle armor.”
“There is that,” agreed Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, Chief of Staff of the Imperial Army, a smile on his broad face. They all knew that only about a third of the planet based Marines were equipped with heavy armor, while all those serving aboard naval vessels had a suit of the expensive and deadly equipment. That the overall commander of the Marines was making sure that all Sector Four reinforcements brought the one ton suits with them was saying something about her commitment to the Emperor’s directive.
But we are all pledged to follow his commands, thought Grand High Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkoswki, the Chief of Naval Operations. Within the oversight of the Parliament. And this meeting has completely circumvented that oversight. But they were ten kilometers beneath the Septagon, the most secure office building on the planet, and they were in geometrically heightened levels of secrecy down here.
“I am afraid that I have gleaned all I can as well,” said the Army COS, looking down at his flat comp. “An armored battalion here, a heavy infantry battalion there, plus more light infantry than I’m comfortable with moving into a potential hot zone. Those guys are mostly meant for urban patrol and garrison, not a heavy stand up fight against an invasion force.”
“So how many were you able to free from their core world resorts?” asked Len in his New Texas Drawl. All laughed at that characterization of core world dispositions, which was how those serving on the frontiers saw them, while the heads of the services spent most of their time in the most protected system of all.
“Forty armored battalions, fifty-three heavy infantry battalions and another two hundred odd battalions of infantry and artillery,” said the Army COS, a frown on his face. “Some damned Lords interfered with the transfer of a hundred more, screaming bloody murder the whole way. And that’s where we stand.”
“So about two hundred thousand men,” said the Admiral, looking at his own flat comp. “To add to the fifty thousand Marines Betty came up with. A quarter of a million land warriors.”
“Wish it could be better,” said the Grand Marshal. “I’ve got seventy-four divisions on alert for movement orders, with the staff sworn to secrecy. So if the balloon goes up I can at least get them loaded and shipped with minimal delay. And how’s it look on the Fleet
front.”
“About the same as yours I’m afraid,” said Len, pulling the smoking pipe from his mouth. “I have about five hundred ships redeployed to Sector Four on the pretense that they are going to relieve vessels due to come back to the Core Sector. Hopefully no one will look at those orders too closely. And we still have to look at this mess that might blow up on the Lasharan frontier.”
“Might?” said Betty with a frown. “I thought the intelligence was good.”
“Oh, it’s good,” agreed Len, taking the pipe back in his mouth and sucking more smoke into his lungs. “At least as good as intelligence can be coming from a friendly power. I think with the advanced we’ve gotten, and the mobilization of the Margravian Fleet, we should be able to dodge that bullet. The Margravian forces are already deploying into Kleshakian space and forming up with the Kleshakians. But our own intelligence is warning of some movements over on the Crakista frontier.”
Mishori shook a bit at the mention of the Margravians, who as an insectiod race was not prone to give humans the warm and fuzzies. But psychologically they were much like humans, and had proven staunch and loyal allies since losing to the Empire a hundred and fifty years before.
“Now that’s good news,” said Betty, her frown deepening. “Why couldn’t it be someone somewhat incompetent, like the Fenri.”
Len nodded his head in agreement. Both Empires were about the same size, half that of the human Empire. But the Dinosauroid Crakista were much better at the game of war than the Ursoid Fenri. The Fenri fought from passion and anger, while the Crakista were cold, calculating opponents.
“When it rains it pours,” said Len, blowing out smoke with his words. “And it’s sure pouring now.”
“You think the lizards will that much of a problem?” asked Betty, her own grimace showing her distaste for that life form.
Not that she’s a bigot, thought the Chief of Naval Operations. They all had to deal with various forms of aliens at official embassy functions and on deployments. But some forms just rubbed people wrong. With Mishori it was insectoids, and with Betty lizard forms, even though the Crakista were not lizards, and were not even dinosaurs. They just favored those beasts more than any other in the Terran bestiary.
“Oh, I think we’ll beat them again,” said Len, knocking the ash out of his pipe and starting to clean it. “I would like to just go ahead and beat them till they’re down, no matter the policy of the Empire of not becoming a conqueror. Because they just keep coming back for more. But this might not be the best time to have to deal with them again.”
“You think they might be in an alliance with our long lost friends?” asked the Grand Marshal, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting up.
“Why must you disgusting men burn those weeds in here?” asked the Commandant, wrinkling her nose.
“Because we can,” answered both men in unison. Everyone broke out in a short laugh.
“And isn’t it funny how no one wants to say their names,” said Betty, fanning the smoke away from her face before the room fans kicked in and pulled it away. “They’re called Ca’cadasans.”
“If that’s what they are,” said Len, knowing she spoke the truth.
“And who else might be running around in our space in Hyper VII ships?” said the woman, glaring at the CNO.
“Could be lots of folks,” said Len with a frown, shaking his head, then holding up a hand when he saw the angry look in Betty’s eyes. “I know. I think it’s them as well. Just like Augustine. I’m just pointing out that we don’t know for sure.”
“But we’re likely to find out in the near future,” said Mishori, and all nodded their heads in agreement.
“Last issue on the agenda is Bolthole,” said Len, keeping his voice low and feeling foolish when he recognized what he was doing in the totally secure room. But it is one of the most highly kept secrets in the Empire, he thought. Everyone in this room knew about it, including the location. That was true for less than a dozen people outside the operation itself, and most of the crew that flew between the Empire and the Bolthole system were deep conditioned to not even remember the coordinates when they weren’t actually navigating to the system.
“And how is our secret military system doing?” asked Betty, the frown leaving her face.
“So far according to plan,” said Len, pulling up the information on his internal memory, reading the encrypted files in his head. “The main base is coming in ahead of schedule, though the planetary terraforming project is slightly behind schedule. But it’s the base that matters, if we’re going to get the system's industrial potential up to producing fleets of ships. The planet is just for support of the industrial component, R and R and fresh food and such.
“So how long before we start seeing warships coming in from free space?” asked Mishori, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he spoke.
“Probably not for a couple of years yet,” confided the Admiral. “But it will happen.”
Len sat there for a second to let everyone digest what they had just said while he thought about the base, which had originally been the idea of the Emperor. An industrial system that could produce everything needed by the Fleet, including antimatter, it was thought to be unassailable by any current enemy, since its location outside of Imperial Space was completely unknown. That sector of space was not the claim of a polity, though Exploration Command ships were busily cataloging the sector for future exploitation.
“That is always a possible refuge if we can’t contain the Ca’cas here,” said Mishori.
“And for what,” said Betty in an angry tone. “So we can wait for them to move on to that sector, discover Bolthole, and wipe us out just like before.”
“I think what she’s saying Mishori, is that Bolthole is not the final refuge,” said Len with a nod to Betty. “Neither is the Other Universe Project, or the expedition to the Magellanic Clouds.”
“There is no fucking refuge,” said Betty Parker, her face reddening. “Don’t you get that? The whole idea of building this Empire, of expanding as quickly as we have, was to be able to fight the Ca’cas on our own ground when they finally showed their ugly faces. They can’t be that much more advanced than we are, not any more. And if they are, surely we will be able to catch up this time around. I know that my Marines will give their all to fight them, as will the Fleet and the Army. Hopefully that will be enough. But if it isn’t I know this Marine will go down fighting. I wasn’t born to run away from my home when it’s threatened.”
“Fair enough,” said Len, glancing over at Mishori. “I know that I’m not going to run either. But the choice of the human race sending out seeds again is not with me. Thank God it’s not with me.”
The other two nodded their head in agreement with that.
* * *
Sean sat in the command chair of a flag bridge, looking into a huge holo tank that showed an entire system. Green arrows indicated that there was a very large fleet around the battleship that Sean knew he was on. The flagship of that fleet. And the number of red arrows at the other end of the system showed they were facing an opposing fleet of equal if not superior size.
Sean looked around the bridge at the dozens of officers and crew that were working at their stations. He could see and feel the tension on them, but when they looked his way they seemed to derive a sense of calm from him, and went back to work with determination. That was one of the things that told him this had to be a dream, the people having such confidence in him as their commander.
Sean’s view shifted outside of his body and he was looking at himself, his face a mask of concentrated thought as he looked back into the holo. A viewer sprung up in holo next to his seat, and he saw the face of the CNO of the Fleet, Grand High Admiral Lenkoswki, speaking to him with respect on his face. And then Sean noticed his own face. It was not the face he wore now. It was an older face, not much older than now, but lined with thought and worry.
And then he saw the rank insignia on his uniform, and the jeweled g
olden circlet on his head. Both only worn by the seated Emperor. And if he was Emperor at such a young age, then what had happened to his father and brothers? Nothing good, or he wouldn’t be in this position.
Sean woke from his dream, knowing that it was one that sprang from the curse of his family. Some called it a gift, but he knew better. And it was said to be strongest in one who was destined to become Emperor. Something he was sure would not happen to him, as long as his father and Dimetre were alive. As long as dad and older brother are alive, he thought, wiping his hand across his sweat covered brow.
The Prince buried his face in his hands. He tried to tell himself that it was only a dream, but it had been too lucid for such. No, it was a prophetic vision. And he wondered once again why his family had been cursed with such. It wasn’t like they were religious leaders, like the Pope, or the Patriarch of the Orthodox religions, or the Imams of the Moslems. They were secular heads of State, and the State had no real official religion, though Reformed Catholicism presided over most official functions, like coronations. But it was not impossible for the Emperor to use another head cleric of another faith for a coronation or a marriage of state.
Sean dismissed those thoughts from his head. They were a way to avoid the main concern, that something might happen to father, mother and the rest of the family. It had to be the rest of the family as well, since Dimetre and Henry were ahead of him in the line of succession. Hell, even his big sister Fiona was ahead of him technically, though she had officially renounced her claim when she refused to marry a man who would have cemented a political alliance, and instead married the man she loved. But she could still make a claim, if it came to it.
But what can I do about it? thought the Prince, looking over at his personal computer terminal. If I send a message to dad it will still take five or six days to get to him. It would have been faster if Massadara was on the hyperlink network. Someday it might be. But not today. And if I send a warning, what can I tell them. That at some unknown time in the future something might strike down the whole family. Father might use it to keep the family from gathering together in public. But not for everything that happens in private, like family gatherings. Is there even a way out? Sending them a warning might cause the action that brought them to danger. Sean shook his head as he cleared the thoughts from his head again. He could go crazy thinking about things like this. He thought for a while longer and got up from the bed.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 Page 2
