Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  “Captain on the bridge,” called out the com officer, the first to see her. Everyone stiffened for a moment.

  “As you were,” she ordered, walking over to her personal tank, opening the hatch and pulling her breathing mask from its container. She checked the mask, then took a few practice breaths. Fitting the mask, she then jacked into the computer, linking with the ship and the over three thousand crew who would man the virtual systems while in the tanks. She climbed into the tank and hit the commit, sealing the hatch and completing the sequence that would fill it with liquid.

  The Captain kept checking crew status as personnel continued to tank up across the ship. The last red icon turned green with a full two minutes to go. Klaxons continued to sound in case someone had not gotten the message, and was somehow unaccounted for. At the correct moment the klaxons were silenced and the ship boosted an extra thirty gravities beyond the limits of the compensators.

  * * *

  Low Admiral Hrissnammartanama watched the viewer showing the approaching planet. It was beautiful, as were most life bearing planets in the Galaxy. Blue of water and green of vegetation, with an overlay of white clouds. One of the southern continents showed a red glow in the grasslands, along with the smoke that had been generated by the magma that was now coming to the surface, following the strike of fast moving debris on the crust. There was also a swirling pattern of clouds in one of the northern oceans, where another fast moving object had punched through the crust under the water.

  “It will heal, priest,” he said to the robed Ca’cadasan who stood with him looking at the world.

  “Better not to damage it in the first place,” said the priest, looking over at the Admiral with a show of teeth. “But it was necessary for the people to be victorious, so it was necessary for the planet to be hurt.”

  The viewer switched to a close up of the orbital region of the world. Several large chunks of orbital forts floated in the space, among groups of smaller debris that were all that remained of the planet's close in defenses.

  “There may still be ground based weapons on the planet,” said the Low Admiral, waving a hand toward the world in the background. “As well as troops defending the planet itself. It should not require much damage to the planet to take the surface, but there will be some.”

  “You have the blessings of the Gods to do what may be necessary,” said the priest, bowing to the Admiral.

  The Admiral returned the bow, happy that the formalities were over. Now he could reduce the planet as needed, taking this world away from the enemy so that his people could have it for their own use.

  “My Lord,” said a young officer, walking into the command chamber and rendering a salute. “A message from our pursuit ships.”

  “And what is the message?” he asked the young officer, impressed by the bearing of the man, for he could tell that the news was not good, and the officer was coming forth without fear.

  “The enemy is soon to be overtaken,” said the officer. “But aid is coming to the enemy ship.”

  “What kind of aid?”

  “A lesser ship, larger than one of our cruisers, is on a rendezvous with the enemy battleship. This ship is very fast, my Lord. Faster than our cruisers, maybe faster than our scouts.”

  “How is that possible?” asked the Admiral in a growl. “Are they more advanced than we thought?”

  “I believe I have an answer to that, Admiral,” said the tactical officer, looking up from his board.

  “Go ahead, young Lord,” said the Admiral, glancing at his tactical officer.

  “These aliens may be in the middle of a refit cycle,” said the Ca’cadasan Lord. “There may be one level of ship that is manning the front lines, while others are being built and deployed, to eventually take the place of the vessels now being used.”

  “That is a good theory, tactical officer,” said one of the other command deck officers. “May I speak, my Lord?”

  “Go ahead,” said Hrissnammartanama. “Everyone's opinion should be heard this day.”

  “They must not have too many of these newer class ships,” said the officer, “or we would have met more of them this day.”

  “But they will have more of them, in the near future, and we will meet them,” said the tactical officer.

  “Send a signal to all ships on the periphery,” ordered the Low Admiral. “They are to send couriers back to the fleet with this information. The faster we consolidate and strike at the human systems, the sooner we can take them out before they accrue any more advancements.

  “And young messenger,” said the Admiral, before the officer could leave with his Lord's commands. “I also want more vessels to join in on the hunt of that enemy ship. We must stop them from getting whatever they are carrying out of the system. Its importance shows in that they will risk even more ships in helping it to leave.”

  The Admiral and the command deck officers went back to their study of the approaching planet, and their stratagems for taking it. The rest of the system would receive its orders and respond accordingly.

  * * *

  Sergiov pitched yet again, partially completing its evasive maneuver before the missile detonated, within a hundred meters of the battleship. Sean winced in his acceleration tank as he slammed into the hard plastic of the side. His elbow was still numb when he floated back into the center of the tank.

  That was too damned close , he thought, just like he had thought the several dozen times other missiles had come close enough to send more than just heat and electromagnetic radiation into the ship. The stern of the ship had taken a pounding. He tapped into the ship's computer, looking over the schematics of the damage. The last blast had taken out Z laser ring, which had only been working at twenty-five percent at that point. The Y ring had been knocked out almost twenty minutes earlier. Most of the stern counter missile tubes had also been destroyed.

  The Prince looked over the performance measures of the ship, noting that some of the inertial compensators had been damaged, and the overall acceleration of the ship had fallen by ten gravities.

  Sean switched to a view of the overall action, and the enemy ships continuing the pursuit. There was still one cruiser and three of the scout ships following, slowly catching up. They had heavily damaged one of the scouts themselves, the ship coasting in space five hundred million kilometers behind. One of their missiles had also damaged a cruiser with a near miss, and the Jean de Arc had gotten in a lucky shot that had hit the cruiser on its damaged side, shattering the vessel into trillions of fragments and plasma.

  Will we make it out of here? he thought, as he looked on the sensor grid and noted that there were more alien ships vectoring in for the chase. Jean de Arc, was vectoring in from the side, ahead of Sergiov and sliding over. Sergiov would continue catching up with the battle cruiser, while it slid into the same vector as the battleship. If the battleship was still here.

  And if I don't make it, my sister Valeria will become Empress, even though she's only three. Or one of the idiot cousins will seize the throne, and that bastard of a Prime Minister will rule the Empire through him.

  The battleship began to rotate in space, the grabber units capable of boosting the ship at full power in any direction, no matter the orientation of the ship. At first Sean was not sure what the Captain was about. Then he realized that the ship's commander was placing his still operating bow section where it would do the most good, facing the nearest pursuit. Which meant.

  No , he thought. That would put Gorbachev and the rest of his team in harm's way. That of course was their job, just like everyone else on the vessel. But he was supposed to be with them, leading them and taking the same risks that they were.

  Except that I have a bigger job to do, he thought bitterly. I can't allow Valeria to become Empress with a regent in charge. Or the Parliament to select and rule through a proxy in time of war. I know what father wanted. So I am the one who has to lead, even if I'm don't want to.

  And he couldn't get to them eve
n if he wanted to, in the heightened gravity field of the boosting ship. Leave this tank and he would be crushed to the floor. His blood would not flow, his heart would stop beating, and he would be unable to draw breath into his body. He would die, accomplishing nothing. If he ordered the ship to slow down, overriding the Captain, they would be caught before the battle cruiser could match vectors with them, and most likely everyone aboard the ship would die. Not a very satisfying state of affairs, with no choices that were desirable.

  So his friend, Chief Petty Officer Jana Gorbachev, and the rest of the team operating laser ring B would be risking their lives. Something they had taken an oath to do, in defense of the Emperor and the Empire. Something he had taken an oath to do as well. But his life had changed, and was no longer just his life to give.

  Chapter 19

  True service is sacrifice. Anyone can serve their people when it is convenient. It takes an exceptional human to practice service when the cost is their life.

  Marine Commandant Julius Caesar Strang.

  Captain Dame Mei Lei backed up into the cubby, allowing the unit to fit her with the battle armor she might need in the coming half hour. They were five minutes from vector matching. Both ships had untanked their crew, and Jean de Arc was hiding as best she could in the shadow of the battered battleship. Said ship was still taking a pounding from the enemy vessels that would soon be in effective energy weapon range.

  “We are ready to launch shuttles in four minutes, fifty seconds,” said Captain Nagano over the com. He was getting into his armor as well, preparing to sacrifice his ship to make sure that his Emperor got out of the system.

  “We will wait until we have everyone aboard before we go to maximum normal accel,” she replied, stepping out of the cubby and walking over to her bridge couch.

  It had been decided, after much hot debate, that every shuttle on the battleship would launch and try to make it to the battle cruiser. All of the wounded who could be gotten aboard shuttles had been placed in stasis and put on a shuttle, along with some of the healthy crew who were deemed nonessential. Of course more would become wounded in the interim, but that couldn't be helped. What could be done would be done to get the injured away. And the Emperor's shuttle would just be one of many maneuvering between the ships, one of thirty three targets for the enemy to concentrate on, giving the young man a much better chance of making it to the safety of the battle cruiser.

  “You should boost as soon as the Emperor is aboard,” said Ngano, frowning over the screen. “He is the most important part of this maneuver.”

  “And I forbid it,” said Sean Ogden Lee Romanov on the split screen, seated in the cabin of one of the shuttles. “You will wait until all of the shuttles are aboard. Or at least those capable of making it. I will not run to leave others behind who have a chance of making it out.”

  Both sides of the split screen shook for a moment. Mei knew that the battleship had taken another near miss. Her own ship bucked slightly as she sent a volley of counter missiles and some offensive missiles out. The weapons maneuvered in space, weaving around the battleship and heading toward the enemy vessels.

  “We could possibly help you to defeat the enemy ships,” said Mei Lei, knowing what the answer would be.

  “And I forbid that,” said Captain Ngano, his face growing hard. “This system is doomed. We are doomed, no matter the outcome of this little fire fight. Your ship has the speed to get the Emperor out of here. But not if you're pounded as badly as we are.”

  “He is correct,” said the Emperor, nodding his head. “I don't like agreeing with him, not at this time. But we need to get out of here. I realize that. I'm not running out of fear. I'm running out of necessity. And I plan to be back, with whatever it takes to push these sons of a bitches out of here. So follow the plan, Captain Lei.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” said Mei Lei, feeling a shiver run up her spine. She had doubted whether this rescue was the proper course even while she embarked upon it. In the back of her mind had been the nagging suspicion that she should have taken the information she had and gotten out of the system. That had been reinforced by a scan of the then Prince's personnel files. Not a horrible officer, but semi uninspiring. But this man, though young, had fire. She could see the late Emperor in him, and realized that this man was more important than any intelligence they might take from this system. This man was worth saving, and she would do whatever it took to save him.

  “Opening flight bay hatches,” came the command over the Sergiov's com net. Captain Lei could hear the slight whine over the shuttle com link as the Emperor's craft started to warm up.

  “Launch in two minutes and twenty seconds,” came the call over the battleship's net.

  “Our shuttles are being launched at this moment,” said Jackson, the XO, over the battle cruiser's com circuit. “Fighter launch commencing as well.”

  The Captain watched the smaller repeater screens showing the four flight bays, as Jean de Arc got her own unmanned shuttles out of the way, and her eight long range fighters launched on their protective mission. The shuttles and fighters moved out into space, turning to head back toward the battleship.

  “Launch in one minute,” said the controller over the com circuit of Sergiov.

  Captain Mei Lei looked on as the counter clock moved down the range, clicking off the seconds. At ten seconds, with ship separation at less than one hundred kilometers, the Jean de Arc cut all acceleration, as did the HIMS Duke Roger Sergiov II. At that moment the battleship launched all of her shuttles, as well as venting most of her stored water from tubes in the bow section of the ship. She also launched a plasma torpedo from her one working bow launcher, followed by a series of plasma torpedoes in a ten second series.

  The enemy were still too far for the plasma torps to actually harm them. That was not the point. The torpedoes were set to explode after traveling fifty thousand kilometers, flooding the space between the predators and prey with a sensor shield of plasma and radiation. The water vapor falling behind the battleship had much the same purpose, spreading out into an opaque barrier. Following were the unmanned shuttles launched from the battle cruiser, boosting along at a leisurely pace toward the enemy. They would provide targets for the enemy ships, and upon destruction they would spread more particles and debris in front of the chasing vessels.

  Several of the shuttles were destroyed within seconds of passing the stern of Sergiov, swept through by laser beams the enemy ships were firing as they tried to kill the shuttles on the way from the battleship to the battle cruiser. More vaporized under the intense power of capital ship and cruiser class lasers. Some of the beams got through to the evacuation shuttles, which were darting and dodging to avoid targeting. The beams were sweeping more or less at random, because of the distance they had to travel and the blocking field they traversed.

  * * *

  Sean sat in the cockpit of the shuttle, having used his rank to gain a place where he would not feel completely helpless. He wondered if that was a good choice as the shuttle juked and dodged on the way to the battle cruiser. Here he could see everything the enemy was sending his way in an attempt to kill him.

  A nearby shuttle, less than two hundred meters away, went up in a cloud of vapor as a laser struck it through the stern. The Emperor's shuttle's pilot pulled his joystick over hard, sending the ship away from the explosion, then pulled up on the stick to avoid a collision.

  These damned ships are too close together, thought Sean, his hands clamping down on his armrests. But there really wasn't a choice if all the shuttles were to get away.

  “Here we go,” said the shuttle pilot, reducing his acceleration as he changed his vector for the stern port shuttle bay on the battle cruiser.

  Sean wished they would head for the bay nearer the bow, so that another shuttle could make it to the safety of the ship instead of him. He knew that thought was foolish. His shuttle had as many wounded and evacuees as any of the others. And the whole mission was to get him to safety.
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br />   The pilot was good, going in under his own control faster than the autopilot would allow. The shuttle barely cleared the opening and came to an almost stop, moving to the rear of the deck. The shuttle set down perfectly on the lift pad, the landing struts thudding down on the deck. The elevator immediately started on its way down, making room for more ships.

  Sean felt himself take a breath of relief. He knew that he did not want to die, no more than any other man or woman in this engagement. And his chances to survive had just increased astronomically.

  * * *

  “We have the last aboard, ma'am,” said the tactical officer from his post, his face pinched in concentration.

  “Helm, accelerate at full power,” ordered Captain Dame Mei Lei, feeling the tension building in her.

  “Aye, ma'am,” replied the helmsman, his fingers dancing over the controls, setting the Jean de Arc to accelerate at over three hundred gravities.

  “How many did we lose?” she asked the tactical officer, rubbing her face with her hand.

  “Four, ma'am,” replied that officer with a grimace.

  The Captain clenched her teeth as she thought about the over two hundred souls that did not make it to her ship. But over eight hundred more had made it, including the most important passenger.

  “Get those people into tanks,” she ordered, her eyes scanning the tactical holo. “Or stasis if they are too wounded to tank. We go to emergency boost in five minutes.”

  “Aye ma'am,” replied the com officer, getting on the circuit and sending the orders.

  “And tell Ngano that we have his package and are running with it.”

  The com officer nodded at the orders while she sent the first, intership, message.

  Now it's up to Sergiov, she thought, looking at the battered battleship on the viewer.

  * * *

  “The Emperor is aboard the Jean de Arc,” called out the com officer, looking over his shoulder at the Captain.