Time Strike

by Doug Dandridge

  “I agree, ma’am,” said Thaddeus Sims, the captain of the battleship, his holo hanging in the air, the control bridge showing in the background. “After all the tales that the Ancients in our region raised everyone up to space faring status, this just doesn’t make sense.”

  Sung thought for a moment. Of course the Ancients hadn’t lifted every species into space, since there had still been aboriginal races on planets in the region when humanity arrived. They had raised those that had reached a level of technology where they could understand advanced tech with some education. Obviously this species was not at that point, but why let them continue with barbaric religious practices, when a convenient visit by a holographic god could convince them to change their ways.

  Suddenly, without warning, a ship appeared on the plot, just fading into existence less than a light second away. That was very good stealth, though not much better than what the Empire had for specific ships, such as the stealth/attack. But no one had picked it up, and Sung had to wonder if it had been there the whole time, watching them.

  The ship was not all that large, slightly smaller than a light cruiser, and seemed to be all planes and angles. The surface of the vessel shimmered. And Sung looked at one of the sensor consoles and saw that they were still having trouble getting a good fix on the ship. Readings were off the chart, then went down to nothing, almost like the craft was breathing, or beating like a heart.

  “We’re receiving a signal, ma’am. Directed at this ship.”

  “Put it on the viewer. And start working on a lexicon.”

  The viewer switched from the planet to the bridge of a ship. Or so they guessed, since it looked like no bridge they had ever seen. Fog drifted through the air, if that was fog and it was air, while lights flashed here and there. A nonsymmetrical object was in the middle of the viewer, grey and brown, with strange lumps here and there. No face, no body, nothing that looked like any kind of sensory organs. But Natasha felt like it was looking at her.

  “What do you in our space?” came a voice over the com, perfect Terranglo, unaccented.

  “I think we are looking for you, if you are the masters of this space.”

  “And why are you looking for us? And why,” the voice changed intonation to that of barely controlled anger, “are you near to the planet? It is under our protection.”

  “We sent that probe to get a closer look at the world, to see if it might be one of yours. If it offends you, we will recall it.”

  “No need. It is gone. As are the drones it has released.”

  Sung stared at the alien, wondering what it meant. The planet was almost two light hours away. They would not know if anything happened to the probe for almost two hours. How did the aliens know what happened to it? How could they have done anything to it, unless they had instantaneous com.

  “We are in your space to solicit your aid against our enemy. The Ca’cadasans have expanded to take up a good portion of this galaxy, and there seems to be no end to their ambitions. They will eventually come here if they are not stopped.”

  “If they come here they will be stopped,” said the cold voice.

  “Will you not help us to stop them before they overrun my people?”

  “The fate of your people is their own. We will not interfere with it. We do not interfere unless someone interferes with us. The advanced people in your sector constantly interfered, and see what happened to them. That will not happen to us.”

  The viewer went blank, and the com officer looked up at the admiral and shook his head.

  “We could take that ship, ma’am,” said Commander Tucker. “We outmass them by a factor of twenty.”

  “And I doubt if they are as helpless as their size implies, Tac,” said Sung. “We aren’t here to start a war.”

  “Just giving you an opinion, ma’am. If we could capture that ship, we could gain their tech and reverse engineer it. It would give us a big advantage over the Cacas.”

  “And when the rest of their fleet comes after us, what then?” asked Bonaventure, glaring at the other officer.

  “We’ve seen no fleet. Only this one ship. I’m betting that there are no more ships. They’re like the Ancients in our own space, all but gone.”

  “I’m not willing to bet that way, Commander,” said Sung, holding up a finger before the officer could argue. “That is my decision. When you are in command, maybe you will decide otherwise.” And Sung hoped that day would never come, either because the officer wouldn’t rise to that rank, or he would gain some wisdom.

  “Ma’am,” called out one of the com techs, looking over at the admiral. “We’re getting reports of a ship approaching in hyper.”

  “Which dimension?”

  “Hyper VIII, ma’am,” said the wide eyed tech.

  “That’s impossible,” said Commander Tucker, the force tactical officer, frantically checking his own board, then looking up with the same wide eyed look as the com officer. “Hyper VIII. And they’re approaching, quickly.”

  The flag bridge crew monitored the oncoming ship as it came on at point nine light in the other dimension, jumping down into VII, then VI. Much further past the barrier than the Imperial ship was capable of, and continuing on at point nine light. The com boards were all lit, captains and crews shouting what seemed to be unbelievable figures. The vessel kept on coming, finally translating into normal space still moving at point nine light. Then it did the next unbelievable thing and decelerated down to a complete stop in minutes.

  “Still want to fight them, Tac?” asked Sung with a cold smile. The sensors were showing that this ship dwarfed her battleship. It had the same basic configuration as the other ship they had been facing, but it spanned ten kilometers in each axis, and had to mass over a hundred million tons.

  The viewer came on without the com officer touching his board, showing the same kind of lumpy looking thing that had been on before. Sung didn’t know if it was the same alien.

  “Humans. We wish for you to leave our space at your best speed. You are not to return.”

  “But…”

  “We will not aid you. As said before, your fate is your own. You will tell your Emperor that he will have to win his war with his own resources. You are not to return to our space, on the cost of your lives.”

  Sung looked down at the deck. There was nothing else to do. These all-powerful aliens had turned them down. And she doubted they would worry about the Cacas if they showed up at their doorstep.

  “One last thing,” she said, looking into the viewer. “If I may.”

  “One question only.”

  “Why do you let these primitive people in your space suffer so, when you could so easily alleviate so much of it?”

  “The fate of these people is their own to forge. It is ours to keep them free of outside interference until they are capable of dealing with star spanning species. We know the advanced race in your region did interfere, and see where it got them.”

  The viewer went dead again, and Natasha was sure that they would not answer another call.

  “Set course for Klavarta space,” she ordered, walking toward the hatch leading out of the flag bridge. “And get headquarters on the com. I’ll take it in my cabin.”

  Chapter Six

  Time travel offends our sense of cause and effect - but maybe the universe doesn't insist on cause and effect. Edward M. Lerner

  “I understand, Sondra,” said Sean, taking the com call in his temporary office in the mountain retreat. “Tell Sung to keep looking for possible allies. We need to keep that front going.”

  If one of the two fronts did collapse, the other would soon feel the full weight of the Ca’cadasan Empire. It was hard enough fighting them when they had to focus in two directions, against only a portion of the Cacas’ might. Fighting the whole thing was frightening, especially now that they had wormholes, and could shift forces across the vast expanse of theirs in days versus months.

  At the moment what he still thought of the Klavarta front
was quiet. There was some probing along the front, a small battle here and there, but nothing of consequence. The Nation of New Earth was still trying to recover from the last major fight. They were building ships and training crews as fast as they could, but the estimates for another major offensive on that front were from eight months to a year. It was unknown when the Cacas would be ready for another offensive, since they didn’t have a way to look far behind their lines. It was thought that since they were hitting the Empire and the Republic so hard at this time, they wouldn’t have enough left for an offensive on the second front.

  We just don’t know, he thought, shaking his head. They did have some intelligence behind his front, limited, since the Maurids had come over to his side, secretly of course. They didn’t have the same resource over on the second front. Mostly that was because the genocidal tendencies of the former management of the Klavarta. They had killed everything that wasn’t either pure human or their genetically modified population that were the actual majority. To most of the slave races of the Ca’cadasan Empire they were monsters, just like they were to all of the other species around them, which was making it difficult to recruit any of those aliens to his side.

  Sean was a student of history, and the second big war of twentieth century Earth was one of his favorite eras. He recalled how the Soviet Union was able to move and mass huge forces at many times during that war, much to the surprise of their opponent, Nazi Germany, who in their arrogance thought they had a handle on the Soviets. He didn’t want his own intelligence apparatus to make the same mistake.

  With a thought Sean pulled up a holographic map of his front. His office was fifteen meters on a side, but the holo seemed to stretch out much further, one of the advantages of holographic projection. He could have achieved the same effect in a closet.

  First he zoomed in on the left wing, where the Cacas were pushing into the New Terran Republic, his human ally. One of the flanks of that push, three red arrows that had already grabbed a couple of score of inhabited stars, was now in danger of being smashed by combined Republic and Crakista forces, able to concentrate while they left the other advances to his force, when it got there. Two of its arrows ended at systems that had a battle graphic, the blue color of friendly forces showing victories for his side. The third arrow, the center of that push, had closed on a star system about forty light years further in from the other groups. There was a red icon there, indicating an ongoing battle. He didn’t doubt he would win there as well. The question was, how many ships and people would he lose in that fight.

  The right flank of that wing was a very different story. The three arrows had all penetrated into the Republic about equally, though a fourth, smaller arrow had branched off and pushed ahead. Various smaller fleet organizations were shown on the holo, the skirmishing forces whose job was to slow down the incursions until Lenkowski could get to the front. He focused in on the fourth and smallest arrow, heading for an industrial system a hundred light years in advance of the rest of the assault. Figures beneath the arrow showed an arrival time of less than a day, and another arrow, this one blue, showed a smaller force heading for the same star, arrival time, four hours after the enemy. Everything was set into motion on that wing, and there really wasn’t anything he could do to change the situation. That system would live or die due to the timing and the efforts of the force they had been able to scrape together. There were some powerful assets in that small force, and there was a good chance they would win, but no guarantees.

  The middle of the front was the real concern, with its three arrows pointing into the heart of the Republic, the industrial and population base of the kingdom. There was currently nothing in their way, and the only reason he could think of for them not having pushed further was not wanting to lose the flank security of the other advances.

  With a thought he looked back at the other side, the Fenri front, Mgonda’s responsibility. Again there were three wings, with three penetrations each. There were dozens of smaller arrows, probes here and there, as well as scores of blue arrows, each indicating small allied forces that were fighting a battle of maneuver, trying to again slow down the Cacas until the Fleet could concentrate on them as well. That wasn’t a front of major battles, but one of raid and counter-raid.

  Many systems were marked as points of resistance, where the former slave populations, reinforced with Imperial troops, would fight the Cacas and Fenri when they came. Those were forlorn hopes, suicide missions. Sean hated that he had to sign off on those types of actions. It was bad enough that he had to commit his own soldiers, who had families in the Empire, hopes and dreams for the future, and a very slim chance of making it out. But the people they had freed from their masters, who had gained a view of a future where they and their children were no longer owned, were now being asked to put their lives on the line for the benefit of the Empire. That they were all volunteers who looked forward to killing their former masters and their Caca allies didn’t make him feel any better. And that didn’t even consider the collateral damage that would take the lives of millions who hadn’t volunteered.

  You will get your turn, he thought, turning his attention to the center of the front, where absolutely nothing was happening. There was still a force in being there, mostly screening units, with a number of back up task groups. The tripwire line was still in place outside the Empire. It had picked up a number of Caca incursions, including the last invasion, but it wasn’t dense enough to cover the entire one million five hundred thousand square light years of the front. And with wormholes, the Cacas only needed to sneak one ship through to pull a fleet into Imperial space. There were millions of stars in that extra-Imperial space, and there was no saying that they would even need a star to locate their assembly point. His own forces had assembled in deep space before this, and the Cacas were very good at imitation.

  That area kept pulling at him. That front, where he was going to launch his own offensive in a couple of months, was now the point of weakness. The enemy had struck at the flanks, and pulled his forces away. It was one of the oldest strategies in warfare. Make the enemy concentrate on where you want him to, and then hit him at the weak point that develops in the lines.

  But would they strike there? He moved and rotated the holo, looking at all the possibilities. There were so many places the enemy could come into the Empire. Through Lashara? Over the top or bottom? He was doing the same thing in sending an incursion force over the galactic disk toward the heart of the Caca empire. But he still thought, at least for the time being, the Cacas would continue to operate along the galactic disk. As for entering near other powers, they had tried that near Crakista space and had been smacked down for their efforts.

  So, what can we move up in that region to backstop if they have another fleet? The Empire and its allies had a lot of ships. Maybe not as many as the Cacas, but still over a hundred thousand vessels. The only problem was they had a lot of commitments as well.

  The war with the Cacas on this front, the aid to the Klavarta, the ships needed out in the Bolthole sector, the Lasharans. And there were the ships that had been destroyed or badly damaged by the Caca strike on Jewel. That equaled several hundred capital ships that could be in service by this time and weren’t. That got him to thinking once again about the time strike, and what it could do for his empire.

  Sean checked the time and decided that he needed a break. Time to check up on the wife and children. They were only a short walk away, in the living quarters of the retreat. And he might just be able to snag a snack and a drink before he returned to work.

  Jennifer was with the children. In fact she was always with the children these days, and Sean was wondering it that was healthy. She had no adult company other than himself. She was feeding Augustine his bottle, something he had suggested she let the nurses do, while Glenn lay in his crib. Glenn had been taking in solid food of late, but Augustine was behind him developmentally, all because of the difference the time transfer had caused. Not for the first t
ime he was thankful that Stumpfield had been monitoring that time and had brought his son back to him. He owed the man a debt of gratitude, but could he really trust him?

  Jennifer put the baby over her shoulder and burped him, then settled back on the couch and rocked him in her arms. Glenn started to fuss a bit in his crib, wanting some attention. He was not normally a fussy baby, so Jennifer must have been ignoring him for some time.

  “Oh, my sweet baby,” said Jennifer quietly to Augustine, looking down on him. “I’m never going to leave you alone again. Nothing will ever happen to my sweet child.”

  Glenn started crying, and Jennifer continued to talk to her other baby, ignoring the one in the crib. Sean walked over to the crib and picked his son up, noting that the tab on the diaper had changed color, indicating that he was wet. Since the diapers were capable of absorbing at least one bladder release and keeping the baby dry, this must have been his second elimination.

  “Honey. Glenn is past due for changing.”

  “Will you take care of him,” she said, not looking up at her husband. “Augustine needs me more.”

  “You have two children, you know,” said Sean, sending a message to his implant to summon a nurse. “You need to give Glenn some of your attention.”

  “But I lost Augustine,” she said, looking up at him with tear misted eyes. “I can’t stand to lose him again.”