Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  “Vice Admiral Gonzalez,” came the voice of the system commander over the link directly into Heinrich’s auditory centers. “I guess you have gotten the news.”

  “Yes Countess,” said Gunter, nodding to an officer heading into the conference room. “We will be preparing our plan of action as soon as I finish consulting with you. Any ideas on your part?”

  There was a half second delay as the signal was routed between the station on the other side of the planet and the battleship. Something which spacers were used to and compensated for without thought.

  “The outer buoys should pick them up shortly,” said the system commander. “I’m torn between engaging them at maximum range with missiles, or taking them on in system where the forts and orbitals can support your ships.”

  “Awful long range for missile engagement,” said the Admiral, figuring the envelope out in his head. There really was no such thing as a maximum range for a missile in practical terms. His capital ships could fire a one hundred ton missile with a crystal matrix energy storage capable of accelerating the missile at five thousand gravities for two hours. That would get the missile up to about point nine six c, the practical limit for travel within a system. The missile could also coast at that speed for as long as it needed to, and still have power to randomly evade and correct its course as it got near the target. The forts carried an even larger missile at two hundred tons. They needed the larger missile to carry the more massive fusion warheads that were mandated for use in weapons systems near inhabited planets. Versus the MAM warheads the ships carried. The fort missiles could boost at five thousand gravities for three hours, due to their onboard fusion reactors. But at a range of light hours the missiles would be depending on their intelligent but limited internal comp systems. Against someone who had not yet been proven to be an enemy, with unknown capabilities.

  “What about a manned response,” said Heinrich. “All of the fast attack in the system, your fighters, and the fighters off of my capital ships.” Each of the battleships carried a full sixteen ship squadron of space fighters, while his battle cruisers carried a half squadron, giving him. “I can throw in five hundred and seventy fighters, added on to your fighter strength.”

  “That gives me seven hundred and seventy,” said the Countess, “along with thirty six fast attack and the non-hyper system ships. What about your carriers?”

  Heinrich had a fleet carrier and two light carriers in the system along with his other ships. They carried about six hundred and forty more of the fighters and attack craft.

  “I’d prefer to hold them in reserve,” he said, thinking it over. “If these are hostiles that kind of swarm might be enough to tilt the battle in our favor. And I’d like to have your forts ready to support us on call.”

  “Very well,” said the Countess. “You’re in command. So I will do my best to support you.”

  “But you don’t fully agree with my suggestions,” he said, hearing the worry in her transmission.

  “I’m charged with protecting this planet,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Of course I would like to see any threat to it taken care of well away from the planet. Missiles hitting the planet with gigaton warheads traveling at point nine c do not do much good for the ecosystem.”

  “And I’m charged with protecting the territory of the Empire, including the vessels under my command and the personnel manning them,” answered the Admiral. “I’m going to do my best to keep the planet from being mauled by hypervelocity missiles. But I have to use all of the assets available to me, and that includes the planetary and orbital defenses. Now I’ll get a release of the fighters and have their group commanders’ report to your command net. Heinrich out.”

  The Admiral walked into the conference room as he pulled out of the link with the other Admiral. Men and women were gathered around the table, engaged in low conversation or sitting quietly as they linked into the net. An Intelligence Commander looked up as the Admiral entered the room and yelled for attention.

  “Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he plopped into his own chair at the head of the table. “Any update on the threat?”

  “No sir,” said the intelligence officer, her Asian face reflecting the worry of someone who dealt in information and had little of it. “We only know that there are a lot of them, and they are on their way.”

  “OK,” said the Admiral, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee. “Let’s move the whole group out to ten light minutes from the planet, in the direction of our friends. After we get everybody out there we can put the group into formation. Just what do we have in system, by the way?” He asked the last already looking at the ship figures on the net, but knowing that there might be errors or changes that a staff member might be able to correct.

  “Current strength in the system,” said Captain Myra Lamborgini, the Flag Captain, “is eighteen battleships, six battle cruisers, twenty heavy cruisers, sixteen light cruisers and fifty four destroyers. There is a fleet carrier and two light carriers in system, and four couriers. We also have a trio of system defense cruisers and eight system defense destroyers.”

  The Admiral ran the figures through his head and grunted. He knew he had another twelve battleships and ten battle cruisers on patrol. And most of his light cruisers, the eyes of the fleet, would also be on out system patrol. He wondered if any of them had run afoul of this threat.

  “There are also the fighters on board the warships and the carriers,” continued the Flag Captain.

  “I’ve released the ship’s fighters to system command,” said Admiral Heinrich, looking at his Flag Captain as that officer grimaced. “She will also keep control of the in system warships and the forts, though she’ll coordinate their fire with ours when it comes to it. We’ll keep the carrier birds for our own planning.”

  “Why give her our fighters, sir?” said Commander Kelvin Hanson, the flight operations liaison. “That’s about half of our fighter strength.”

  “Vice Admiral Gonzalez wants to meet them as far out in the system as possible,” said the Admiral. “To ascertain their intentions and capabilities. I understand her concerns, so I released enough of our fighters to give her some punch if needed.” And they’ll all be operational, he thought, or at least as much of all of them as will matter. He remembered in his classes back at the academy how in the distant past, mostly on old earth, when a commander could count himself lucky to have eighty percent of his equipment functional when going into combat. And a lot of that was from wear and tear as they called it then. He knew that all of his equipment, fighters included, were maintained in top shape by the nanites incorporated into their systems. The same microbugs that updated electronics as necessary.

  “Any reinforcements expected?” he said, looking back at his Flag Captain. “Anyone due back from patrol?”

  “There might be a couple of cruiser teams coming in at any moment,” said the Flag Captain, pulling out a cigarette and puffing it into ignition. “But nothing expected on the horizon.”

  “There’s a convoy expected in today,” said Commander Sylvester Lafayette, the logistics liaison. “A Hyper VII battlecruiser, a light cruiser, five destroyers and nine auxiliaries.”

  “Right in the middle of the fracas,” said the Flag Captain, frowning. “I don’t think those warships are going to do us enough good to warrant the cost of those other ships. They have a couple of brigades of troops and about five thousand naval support personnel.”

  “Can we warn them off?” said the Admiral. “Where in the system will they come in?”

  “Plane of the ecliptic,” answered Lafayette. “About thirty degrees spinward from the hostiles.”

  “We might be able to find them with a courier,” said Captain Lamborgini. “Warn them to stay in hyper and get out of here.”

  The Admiral thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.

  “I don’t have enough couriers,” he finally said. “I want two of them sent immediately to Se
ctor HQ. One of them must get through, in case the hostiles have curtained the system without us knowing it. I want the other two on the far side of the system, ready to translate with the news of our demise, if it comes to that. The convoy will just have to take its chances. Hopefully they’ll follow SOP and translate an escort in first to check out the system. And they’re probably already in detection range by the unknowns.

  “Let’s get a plan together, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing. “We’ll meet again when the group gets to the assembly point. Hopefully we’ll have more information at that time. Dismissed.”

  The staff left their seats and hurried from the conference room, eager to get to their duty stations and do their part to ensure the survival of the human force. The Admiral knew that part of that eagerness was fear, and the desire to busy themselves to defuse that fear.

  Of an enemy we refuse to name, he thought, feeling his own fear bubble up inside of him. It has to be them. They finally came. Just like his Majesty said they would.

  “If I can talk with you for a moment, sir,” said the Flag Captain, stepping up to him.

  “What is it, Myra?” he asked, picking up his coffee cup and thinking about breakfast. “Is it those fighters I gave the system commander?”

  “No sir,” she said, fidgeting. “That’s your command decision, and one I don’t have a problem with. No sir. It’s a little stickier problem.”

  “Well out with it Captain,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Before we die of old age, or those unknowns fry our guts.”

  “It’s the Prince, sir,” said the Captain in a hushed voiced, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “What are you going to do about him?”

  “What would you like me to do with him, Captain? He’s a serving fleet officer. I can’t order him off of his ship just because there’s a possibility that he might die in combat. He could refuse that order and be well within his rights. And even if I did have him dragged kicking and screaming from Sergiov, he could have my head. And it’s not like he is likely to become Emperor anytime in the future. He’s has two older siblings for God’s sake.”

  “It would still not be a good thing to have a member of the Imperial Family die under your command sir,” said the Captain forcefully.

  “Then I have to be sure I win the battle,” he replied. “With minimal loss to our forces.”

  “Oh come on, Admiral,” said the Captain, looking into his eyes.

  He could see the fear in her as well. He could also see the control of that fear.

  “You know as well as I do who those people are who are coming at us. The last time we fought them they destroyed our civilization and sent the remnants of our race out into the dark.”

  “We’re a lot stronger now than we were then,” he said with determination in his voice. “And a lot more advanced.”

  “And what are you going to do with the Prince?”

  “What do you suggest?” he said in a low voice. “I can’t remove that ship from my order of battle. I need everything I can lay my hands on.”

  “Then put him under arrest and have him removed from his ship,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at the Admiral. “Put him on the first courier you send out. Then he’ll at least have a chance of getting home.”

  “I don’t have any charges to bring him up on,” said the Admiral. “It would be an insult to his family name. Something he would regret for the rest of his life. So do you have something else to suggest.”

  “At least put his ship in the second echelon,” she said, looking down to the floor. “Then he will at least have a chance to survive if everything goes to shit.”

  “I can do that,” he said, nodding his head. “But I’m not sure he would be happy that I did that.”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” said the Captain. “Some ships have to go there if you use any formation I would think you would. At least six battleships.”

  “OK, Captain,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to us not surviving the battle.”

  “And where will you place our ship, sir?”

  “Where do you think, Captain,” he said with a sigh. “Right in the center of the action. In the finest tradition of Nelson.”

  * * *

  It had been the middle of the night in the city of Port Massadara, the capital and largest city on the planet. There were over a million people living in the city, whose population had skyrocketed since it became known that the system was becoming a regional military base system. That meant that the five hundred thousand permanent residents had been joined by another half million transients who had been housed as best as could be until permanent residences could be built, or they could be transferred out to the farms or villages they had contracted for. It also meant that there weren’t enough shelters available for all of those people.

  Major General McKenzie Zhukov was one of those people roused from a dead sleep. In his case it was more of a personal awakening by staff, not by sirens or emergency messages over the net. But the confusion was just as great.

  “So what the hell do we know?” he asked a staff officer on the way to the control center ten kilometers beneath the military headquarters building. The walls reminded him of a warship’s, which was apt since the shelter was the same central capsule used by Imperial destroyers.

  “Not much, sir,” said the young Lt. Colonel who was the watch officer tonight. “Just that a large number of unknowns translated into the system and are on a heading for the planet.”

  “Have we received any intel from the Countess or her staff?”

  “Very little, sir,” said the Colonel, walking fast to keep up with the General. “Her liaison officer will be here shortly, but I’ve come to the opinion that they are still trying to sort things out themselves.”

  “Reasonable,” said the system Army commander. “And I would guess we have some hours before they are a threat to the planet.”

  “Probably at least ten hours till a possible missile strike,” said the younger officer. “Closer to twenty four before we could see a possible ground assault.”

  “And the ten hour window really doesn’t matter all that much,” said the General to the nod of the Colonel. If they hit us with relativistic missiles there won’t be a living planet to land on. Even one and all the buildings are coming down, and all the close surface shelters are cave ins.

  The door to the conference room slid open as they approached, the two military policemen waving them in. The room was already half full. Zhukov ran a tight command, and most officers tried to beat him to wherever he was going, if they knew what was good for them.

  Attention,” yelled the planetary Command Sergeant Major, Sid Willis, his dark face reflecting the overhead lights.

  I don’t know how he does it, thought the General, looking at his right arm, standing there in perfect garrison uniform. He knew the man had to sleep, but he couldn’t prove when that occurred.

  “At ease,” yelled Zhukov, striding toward his chair at the head of the table, where coffee had already been set. He spun into the chair and glared at a couple of officers that ran in late and moved quickly to their chairs, their eyes avoiding the General’s.

  “So what do we know so far?” he asked the assemblage, noting that some of the faces out there looked shocked. Stunned might be the better term. Thought they were coming to a peaceful planet in a quiet sector. But Zhukov had learned early on in his career that quiet sectors only meant they hadn’t burst into flame, yet.

  “We have ships in the four million ton range translating at the hyper barrier after leap frogging down from VII,” said the naval liaison officer, Commander Pierre DuCox, looking up from his flat comp. “At least twenty, probably more. First alert received by grav wave transmission by a picket. Nothing heard since.”

  Which means they are probably dead, thought the General, shaking his head. Someone has to man the listening post, and it’s just the luck of the draw if somethin
g comes along while you’re out there.

  “We have a lot more activity out there,” continued the Commander. “Looks like capital ships. And first indication is that these are the Ca’cas.”

  “Shit,” said one of the other officers, and the General glared him shut.

  “We always knew this day would come,” he said, looking around the room. “We always hoped it would come later than sooner. But here it is and we have to deal with it.”

  “But, sir,” said a Colonel in charge of the shore defense batteries around the capital city. “The Ca’cas?”

  “Calling them cute names isn’t going to change the reality of them,” said the General, frowning. “The Ca’cadasans may be coming to dinner, and it’s up to us to set a fine table for them. If them it is. If not, then we will just have to prepare a welcome for whoever it is. But we will prepare that welcome, and set a price for their feast.”

  The table was silent, and the General knew that all of them were scared to death. He didn’t feel all that brave himself at the moment. He was hoping for maybe a promotion to lt. general, maybe colonel general before he retired. Maybe a minor title and some land. Now it looked like he might have the chance to play hero, something he had tried as a younger officer in a couple of wars. Something he had hoped he wouldn’t have to do again. But here it was.

  “We will meet them as they land, gentleman and ladies,” he said in his best forceful voice. “Now where are the militia commanders.”

  “They’re on their way,” said the Colonel who was his adjutant, Reese.

  The room erupted in laughter for a moment, and the General slapped his hand on the table. “There will be none of that,” he roared. “None of that at all. The militia will be fighting and dying beside us, and they will be treated with respect.”

  “They don’t have the equipment or the training to stick with my boys,” said one of the brigade commanders, Brigadier Chow.