Again, at the proper moment, with authorization by the organic controllers, the ships dropped their missiles at just the right time. Once again they penetrated the warp field of their launching vessels, their own fields protecting them. They dropped out of warp for a couple of seconds to orient to their targets, then went back into warp.
This time they were not quite so lucky. Two missiles intersected each other and blew back into space as their warp fields fell. One more ran into a counter missile, more from bad luck than from any capability of the counter, and that was too much matter for the field. The detonating counter turned the reentering missile into plasma. And in two cases a pair of missiles targeted the same ship, scouts that could have been taken out by one missile. Thirty-one targets were hit, still a better percentage that with any other missiles. Nine were blasted out of space, while twenty-two more took severe damage.
The attack craft stage two more attacks, disaster finally striking on the last. Snyder turned in horror as the com tech shouted out, eyes wide, stammering that her sibling had died. One of the craft was spreading out into space. No one saw what it had hit, only that the Cacas were throwing out everything they had into the path of the attack.
“Return to carrier,” came the call from the commodore in charge of this operation. “We’re through here.”
There were still enemy ships in the system, but right now they had nothing to strike them with. The Cacas had lost over forty ships, including seventeen of their superbattleships, and not a vessel in their force had gone without significant damage. The Imperial force had lost one warp attack craft, a more than satisfactory exchange, though the Cacas were sure to develop methods to counteract this kind of efficiency. But now it was time to return to the carrier. The warp craft were extremely fast within a system, but compared to hyperdrive ships outside of a gravity well they were almost standing still. The carrier could get to the next target star, twenty-one light years away, in days, and it was important to leave without the enemy detecting them. The warp attack craft would take over two years to make the same trip, and would be out of fuel well before they reached a tenth of the way.
* * *
“How are the little angels doing?” asked Sean, walking into the nursery. He noted the many sensors along the walls, including a number of microdrones that floated like insects through the air.
“If you think they’re angels, you need to spend more time around them,” said Jennifer with a tired smile.
“You don’t have to spend so much time with them, you know.” Sean bent to kiss his wife, then put a hand on his eldest son, his heir, the one she now had in her arms.
Or is he the oldest? Augustine was physiologically more than a month younger than his brother, Glenn, but he was still the first born, and therefore the heir. He looked over at Glenn, sleeping in the crib next to the empty one Augustine used. That baby was noticeably larger. It was fortunate that the people who had retrieved Augustine through time had not waited longer. There would be very little difference when they were school age, even less when they reached adolescence. By the time they were adults no one would ever be able to tell which was the older. They would simply be twins, one to eventually become Emperor, one the spare. If there was still an Empire him to rule.
“I almost don’t want to let either of them out of my sight, ever again,” said Jennifer, breaking the kiss and putting her lips to the baby’s forehead.
“You know you can’t do that. You can’t live your life like that, and you can’t smother them.”
“I know. But it’s just so hard to have lost one, only to have him returned to me. I don’t want to have to face that again.” Jennifer lay the baby down in his crib, the normally fussy child down for the count. She looked up at Sean. “I heard that the Cacas are running through the Republic again. Will they ever stop? Will we be able to stop them? And when will we be able to strike at their capital, and not have to worry anymore about their trying to wipe us out?”
“There might be a way to accomplish that very thing,” said Sean, looking up, realizing that Jennifer was on edge, almost manic. She needed calming, and he thought he knew what might work, as well as help him gain some more insight into how he should decide.
“Surveillance off,” he ordered, and every sensor in the room went offline. The secret service didn’t like when he did this, but it was his prerogative, and there was nothing they could do to override his lockout.
“There may be a way, but it’s risky.”
“Risky to who?” asked Jennifer, a troubled look on her face.
“To all of us. You know what I told you about the way those people were able to retrieve Augustine from the past. That’s not the only thing they can do. They might be able to save more of our people, a lot more. And possibly give the Cacas a case of terminal aggravation.”
Chapter Four
People don't slip. Time catches up with them. Nat King Cole
CAPITULUM. MAY 14TH, 1003.
“So that’s our recommendation, your Majesty,” said Count Stumpfield, looking the Emperor in the eye from across the desk.
They were still meeting in Sean’s office. His people might want to know who this man was their leader was meeting with, and so far he had put them off with talk of state secrets. Eventually someone outside his inner circle would figure out who the man was, but not why the Emperor was meeting him with such a total lockdown on surveillance.
“This it still too much to take in sometimes, Count. And we still haven’t figured out how to explain the return of Augustine to the empire.”
“Wait until we have accomplished the time strike, your Majesty. By that time, the timeline will have changed, and there will be no need to say anything.”
“But that means we have to keep Jennifer, who refuses to leave the child, out of the public eye. She’s a popular figure, you know.”
Stumpfield looked frustrated. Sean could understand that. He had too much on his mind at the moment, and couldn’t give his full attention to the seemingly impossible proposal. We’ll just have to figure something out.
“We have a wormhole on its way into the past right now, your Majesty. We have to launch at the proper moment.”
“And if you don’t, then we use another wormhole, or bring that one into our dimension and let it progress forward again. I don’t see the problem, Count. I think I still have time to make up my mind.”
“That you do, your Majesty. But think about this too. What if they strike the capital again?” The count raised his hand to stop Sean from speaking for the moment. “Oh, I know. We don’t think they can do it again. But we didn’t think they could do it the first time. If those launch systems are destroyed? Hell, if the capital is destroyed, we may lose our chance.”
Sean checked the time on his implant and surged to his feet.
“I’m sorry, Count. I have a meeting with some of the Lords. I will get back to you, soon.”
“Please do,” said the man, his tone betraying his frustration.
I’m in charge here, thought Sean as he saw the man out of his office. But was he really? They had the wormhole, and there had to be a plan b for striking on their own.
* * *
“We still have a few dissenters in the Lords, your Majesty,” said the Prime Minister, Countess Haruko Kawasaki. Next to her, across from the Emperor and his aide, sat the Baron Emile von Hausser Schmidt, the leader of the Lords.
Thank God both of you made it through, thought Sean, looking from one to the other of his two staunchest supporters among the nobles. Of course the Prime Minister would be numbered among his allies, since she had been appointed by his decree. It had just worked out well for him that when the last leader of the Lords, a confirmed enemy, had fallen, the Baron had garnered enough support to step into his place.
“I wouldn’t think that many,” said Sean, frowning. He didn’t like to think it a good thing that subjects had died, even if they did stand in his way of managing the war effort. It was a good thing that
some were no longer in their seats. Almost half of the Lords had remained in the capital city during the holiday. They had either been at their estates or working in the Parliamentary offices when the attack had come. Most of those in their manors had survived, only an unlucky few being on the receiving end of falling debris. Of those in their offices, all had died when the House of Lords had been destroyed by kinetics.
The relatives who had taken the places of their deceased leaders for the most part had a different viewpoint of the war. They hated the Cacas who had killed fathers, siblings or cousins with a white hot passion. And many of those who survived, having seen the ravaged city, had moved toward Sean’s point of view. That some had not was to be expected, since seeing the city at the very heart of the empire smashed would bring thoughts that the same might happen to their homeworlds to the fore. But the ones who disagreed were now part of a very small minority.
“Not many, your Majesty,” agreed Schmidt. “But a very vocal bunch nonetheless. And they try to gather more to their point of view.”
“Makes you wish you could round them up and stick them in a cell, yes, your Majesty?” said a smiling Prime Minister.
“The thought had crossed my mind. But, since I don’t want to go into the history books as a despot, a thought I force myself to ignore. And what are the main complaints of the vocal minority?”
“The biggest one is that you are continuing to weaken the defenses of the inner empire, as well as the frontier sectors not in contact with the enemy. They cite the risks from other nations on our borders, as well as pirates, and of course the unknown threats that might come out of the darkness. They name the Machines as an example.”
“And don’t they understand that the only nations on our borders we have to fear are the ones we are already at war with,” said Sean, shaking his head.
Lashara was all but out of the war, their border systems occupied, their capital taken. There was a token force of allies in their space, ensuring that no fleets of auxiliaries formed. Fenri had been a minor issue, and Mgonda had been there with a good portion of his fleet, trying to clean up that mess before the Cacas had stuck again. It had almost been over there, and Fenri would have never again been a problem. It could still be that way if they pushed the Cacas back out. Crakista and Elysium might be threats in the future. At the moment they were allies, friends who had removed most of their border pickets in order to bolster the combined fleets. They still had ships stationed on their other frontiers, but not many on their borders with his Empire. The Republic was not even an issue, and probably never would be since the Empire had saved their asses from the Cacas. Pirates could be a problem, but he really didn’t need capital ships to patrol for criminal scum. Frigates, backed up by some few squadrons of destroyers, could handle that problem. And if they were more of a problem than otherwise, the war was still more important than their raids. A pirate or two might take a merchant ship or a liner. They would not strike an inhabited world, unless they grew a bigger set than they were known to possess.
“They don’t trust Crakista or Elysium. One common complaint is we have armed them with our best technology, then allowed them into our midst, like wolves among the flocks. The Cacas have already shown what can happen when a powerful enemy gets into the core worlds.”
“And if I can undo what they had done?” asked Sean under his breath. He had been thinking a lot recently about the possibilities of time travel. It seemed possible, though he still didn’t really trust the man who said he performed the miracle. Feeling their attention, he looked up to see that both of the nobles were staring wide eyed at him.
“I hope you are not thinking about time travel, your Majesty?” asked Schmidt.
“Of course not,” said Sean, cursing himself silently for a fool for even saying such quietly. If enough people thought he might do that, he would face opposition that made the present look like nothing. “What I can do is defeat their present offensive, then visit the same on them.”
“And how goes the operation to strike at their home world?” asked Haruko, one of the few people in the Parliament, along with Schmidt, who had been read into that operation.
“Still on a heading for the outside of the galactic disc, and from there five months from turnover to head back in,” said the monarch, still cursing himself for his slip. “The greatest danger to the mission will come when they reenter the disc and head for their target. The only way we can think of getting them there is to travel in hyper V or less, at a low enough velocity that they can decel back down in time to jump and escape notice.” And if they get caught, the people in those ships might die for nothing. Or they might be able to bring across a battle force that could destroy the Caca force that discovered them, and keep moving toward the capital. Not what they wanted, since sneaking into the capital system would leave the Cacas open to the surprise he wanted to bring, but a massive strike that destroyed their home fleet might serve as well.
“It would be nice if that would end the war,” put in Schmidt.
“We can’t count on that, my Lord,” replied the prime minister.
“She’s right, you know,” agreed the monarch, picking up his empty coffee cup and considering sending for the steward to refill it. That could wait, he decided, since they would have to stop their conversation on top secret matters. “We wouldn’t give up if they took out our capital. Hell, even if they took out the Donut we would fight on. We would have no choice.”
“But they would have a choice, your Majesty,” said Schmidt. “After all, they attacked us, not us them.”
“They might not see it that way, Baron,” said the prime minister. “They think we started that war, two thousand years ago. They could still see us as the ultimate menace to their species.”
“And how could they have seen that in the first place, Countess? They were a massive empire, even at that time hundreds, if not thousands of systems. We had what, eight colonies, none much over a million people? They had hyperdrive, while we were restricted to subspace. How could they justify wiping us out?” The baron’s face had turned red from passion while his voice rose.
“Calm yourself, my Lord,” commanded Sean, making eye contact with the noble. “I’m not totally sure why they got blood in their eyes as far as we were concerned. From what their prisoners have told us, we killed the heir to their empire after surrendering one of our colonies. I don’t think that would be enough to drive us to genocide, but them?” Sean shook his head. He really wasn’t sure why they were even having this conversation. When they hit the Cacas in the past, things would change, and none of this would happen in the same way it had now.
That thought gave Sean a pause. What would be the effect on the him now when they changed the past? He was sure he would still exist, as would his wife and children. And over three hundred million who had died would still be alive. But what would be the effect of that? Would he have reason to even consider the time strike? There would be no reason for him to contemplate such action, and if he didn’t. it wouldn’t happen. Would it? This was the definition of a paradox. Would time loop, and everyone get caught in back and forth changes that went on forever?
The Emperor shook his head. These were the kind of thoughts that would drive a man mad. He had to depend on the opinion of the experts, and they seemed to think there would not be a paradox. But how did they know? It had never been done to such an extent. His son had been saved and brought into the future, but that was one small life that really had no impact on the timeline. He might eventually, but what could an infant do to influence this war.
“Are you well, your Majesty?” asked the prime minister, putting a hand on Sean’s forearm. “You look like you were elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry, Countess. That’s exactly where I was. I have so much on my mind right now, it’s hard to concentrate on any one thing.” The Emperor stood, bowing to the nobles. “I’m calling an end to this meeting. But I’m willing to meet tomorrow if need be.”
Sean saw the looks
they gave him. The meeting was almost over anyway, and they had to be wondering what was wrong with him. Well, they could wonder all they wanted. He was in charge here, and he would call and dismiss meetings as he willed.
“I have a surprise for the Cacas,” said the Emperor as he got up from his seat. “A surprise for everyone.”
Sean stormed out of the conference room, feeling the stares against his back. I need to keep my damned mouth shut. He was the man in charge, but if too many people thought he was about to do something that most thought forbidden, they would stop him. And he was not willing to let that happen.
* * *
“Dammit, Colonel. I have my orders.”
Cornelius Walborski gave the two armored troopers a look that would freeze the marrow in most men’s bones. If these two felt any fear, they did not show it. Of course, being decked out in almost a ton of armor each was something sure to raise the confidence of the wearer. All of Walborski’s strength and speed would do nothing against these men, while the sonic stunners they wore attached to their forearms would even put an augmented human down.
“And I guess those orders came from the general in charge of the operation,” said Cornelius, trying to think of a way he could pull some of his connections out to remain.
More men walked by, carrying heavy boxes of weapons and equipment. These were the men he had led here for the unconventional mission they were on. Not to be front line fighters, but to lead and advise the native guerillas. Cornelius was sure that they would also be involved in combat. There was no way around it, when they would be fighting on an invaded world where the enemy held the high ground of space. They would fight and die, or be captured and die. Either way, they would die, unless they happened to get back to this cavern system and the wormhole it sheltered. He knew his people, and he knew they wouldn’t abandon the people they had been sent to help. Just as he wouldn’t abandon them.
“The orders came down from the very top, sir. The Emperor himself.”
Time Strike Page 6
