“And what changed your mind?”
“The sight of our own kind fighting valiantly changed my mind. That, and the lies they told us about this mission. We thought we had come to hurt you, but their plan was to totally destroy these worlds.”
“You know they mean to exterminate our kind,” said Mei, wondering how much she could trust this being, knowing she really couldn’t. She glanced over at the Tactical Officer and nodded, then back at the captain on the viewer. “We are sending a Marine platoon over to board your ship. Cooperate, and I will guarantee your safety. Try to pull something, and they have orders to shoot to kill.”
“I understand. And yes, I finally realized that they meant to exterminate all of humankind. We were only kept alive so that the Masters would have someone to infiltrate your military and governmental institutions when contact was again made. I had heard rumors, but had always dismissed them, thinking we were too valuable to the Masters. But when they tried to send across a device that would shatter your world, in contravention of their own religious principles, I realized that it was all a lie.”
Mei held up a hand to signal the Com Tech to kill her transmission for a moment. “Tell the Marine officer that I want this one alive. I don’t want any accidental discharges, or shot while trying to escape.” The Tech nodded and started the transmission to the shuttle that was just about to enter the open bay of the freighter, where the wormhole had resided minutes before.
She hated giving that order, but she knew emotions would be high at this time. After all, surrender or not, laws of war or not, the captain and crew of this ship had been responsible for millions of deaths and massive destruction, to this, the heart of the Empire they had all sworn to protect.
“Sitrep?” she asked of her Tactical Officer, looking at the plot.
“There are still over three hundred enemy fighters working over Jewel. We have eight hundred fighters in the air, with more launching every minute. Ariel and New Terra are secure. And ma’am. A carrier just came through the wormhole near Central Dock and is launching all their fighters.”
The battle wasn’t over yet, but the enemy didn’t have much left, and that number was going down by the moment. Even as that thought entered her mind she found herself looking at another building slip going up in a blast of actinic fire, heralding the death of another capital ship before she had even been born.
* * *
“We need to get you and the heir down into the shelter,” said the Chief of Detail as the aircar landed on the roof of the Imperial retreat. Low rumbling noises were still coming from the south, where multiple mushroom clouds were starting their collapse, while more rose into the sky.
The jungle below the compound, looking down the mountain to the large river flowing through the valley, the same waterway that ran through Capitulum, was alive with the calls and shrieks of wildlife, terrified of the unknown sounds coming from down river. That and the streaks in the high atmosphere traveling at over a score of the speed of sound, their deep booms actually shaking the trees below.
The heir, thought Jennifer, following the agents who were guiding the protective carryall. She was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that Augustine, the child that had been the heir an hour before, was no longer alive. That his younger brother was now the inheritor of Empire. She would have problems even caring about the aspect of the situation. All she really cared about was that her child, one of the twins she had borne and loved, was dead, before he had even started his life.
The lift took them down, through the three story dwelling and the four levels of basement, continuing through the rock of the mountain until there were ten kilometers of solid stone over the thirty meters of battleship armor that was the final protective layer.
“Let me have him,” said Jennifer as the nurse opened the container, revealing the sleeping form of Glen. The baby stretched, yawned, then started crying as his eyes sprang wide open.
“Perhaps we should let the doctor look him over first,” said the Chief of Detail, moving into the path of the Empress.
“Get the hell out of my way,” she screamed in his face, trying to push the augmented man out of the way and failing. “That is my baby, I am a doctor, and I will see to him. Now get out of my way, or I will see that you are relieved of duty as soon as my husband returns.”
The agent nodded and stepped out of her way, looking over at the nurse and giving another nod. Jennifer was at the side of her son in an instant, lifting him from the carrier and placing him against her, head over her shoulder. She immediately caught the odor of a baby who had eliminated into his diaper, and she carried him out of the room to the nursery, where a changing table and supplies were located.
“I can change him, your Majesty,” the Nurse offered.
“I will do it,” said Jennifer, unwilling to let Glen out of her hands. She lay the crying baby on the table, then undid his diaper and wiped with the soiled garment. Tossing it in a waste hamper, she grabbed a wipe and went to work, then looked over at the Nurse. “Prepare a bath for him. I think he needs more than a change.” She looked back down at the squirming, crying baby, realizing that he was probably hungry as well. She rubbed a finger over his face, trying to sooth him, as the tears fell from her eyes.
You’re the only one I have left, she thought, shaking her head. I will be damned if I let anything happen to you. They’ll have to go through me first. I will let no one separate me from you.
The nurse brought the tub filled with warm soapy water, and the Empress busied herself with the care of her child, just like any other mother, occupying her mind with the simple task so she wouldn’t have to think about the one she would no longer be able to care for.
Chapter Fifteen
Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. Winston Churchill
H-4.
“Understood,” said the large male, standing at the back of the bridge. He looked over at the two other males and gave a head motion. All three males drew their weapons and pointed them at the humans who manned the stations. “Step away from the stations. Touch nothing.”
“What is going on?” asked the Captain, holding up his hands and making sure not to touch anything.
“The other ship is gone,” said the male. “Or at least that is what headquarters thinks happened. Their wormhole collapsed. Command wants to make sure that doesn’t happen here.”
“We have three ships entering the system through one of the enemy wormhole gates,” called out the Tactical Officer.
“What are they?” asked the Captain, starting to move toward that station, stopping in his tracks as he remembered the weapon pointed at him. “Why are you pointing you weapons at us? Are we under suspicion?”
“There is some concern about why the wormhole died that led to the other ship,” said the Ca’cadasan male. “It was like it was terminated on the other end.”
“We are loyal to the Empire and Emperor,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the male.
“Be that as it may, you are not to touch any controls. The battleships will handle the tactics of this battle from here on.”
“Can we at least continue to look at the displays, so we can give you our input?”
“You may,” said the male, giving head motions to the other two Ca’cadasans. The male moved over until he was standing behind the Tactical Officer, looking down on the tactical plot. “What do we have coming through their gate?”
“From their signature, it looks like three capital ships, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer, glancing back at the huge male. “We can’t tell at this point.”
“They will not be able to influence this fight from where they are,” said the male, looking at the Captain. He closed his eyes for a moment, linking into the com net with the other ships around him as well as command through the wormhole. “You are to move your ship into close proximity of the human station. The battleships will guard you on the way.”
“So w
e are allowed to touch the controls?” asked the Helm.
“No one is to approach the wormhole control panel,” said the male, as one of the other Ca’cadasans moved to stand in front of that station. “Otherwise, you are now permitted to control this vessel.”
“Why do they want us to move so close to the station?” asked the Captain, looking at the Ca’cadasan with trepidation. Their mission called for them to close, but to still stay at a safe distance and launch fighters and missiles from range. He looked at the tactical holo, bringing it up in a zoom near the station. The first wave of missiles were still fifteen minutes from contact, and the station was still quiescent. He had no doubt that when it did fire it would be spectacular. And the thousands of small craft, fighters and attack ships, were moving into the path of the missiles. Some would still get through, and considering the size of the station, some of those were sure to hit. He didn’t think the same would hold true for his ship, or even the task group of battleships that would escort her. Its firepower would have to be enormous.
“That is not for us to ask,” said the male, a grimace on his face. “We have been ordered to move this ship next to the station. Now start us on the way, before those ships out by the wormhole gates are able to bring us under fire.”
Those ships had already fired on them, missiles were on the way, but it would still take almost an hour and a half before any of them got within attack range. They were already moving toward the station at point four three light, and would be there moments after the missiles from the warships reached them. After they weathered that storm, the only weapons they would have to worry about would be those fired from the station and its defense squadron, which would be enough. Even as he thought that another battleship came from the wormhole, exploding into space at a velocity of point six light, pushing ahead of the freighter and joining the score of ships already aligned ahead of Fool’s Bane.
Another battleship came through, then another. This was a part of the plan that the human crew had not been apprised of, or else it was improvisation from command. The Captain wondered if an entire fleet was coming through, and it so, why did his ship have to get so close to the station. Surely if they sent enough ships through they could take out the station before the defense fleet by the gates could intervene. But why put their only chance of escape so close to that monstrous behemoth of firepower? If the gate went, and it was awfully exposed in the current configuration that allowed it to transit twenty-five million ton ships, those battleships would have no escape from human space. Unless they brought enough over to actually win a battle here.
Is this the place where the Empire will defeat the other humans in a final battle? thought the Captain as the force ahead of him kept growing. A quick calculation in his head showed that an unlikely scenario. They would at most be able to get a couple of hundred battleships through before they were within beam range of the station, and the Captain was sure his vessel would be a priority target. So there would be a large force of Ca’cadasans, but not enough to defeat what the humans could bring through. Which meant this was a suicide mission, plain and simple.
“That’s the last one,” said the Ca’cadasan male, looking over the plot. There were now forty-five battleships arrayed around the freighter. Thirty-five directly ahead, starting to cycle counter missiles at the weapons coming out from the station. Ten to the side and rear, completing the bubble. The missiles coming from the station would be approaching at a considerable fraction of light speed. There were sure to be hits, and casualties, but the formation was set to assure that none would be to the freighter.
“What is the plan here?” asked the Captain, staring at the Master.
“Just navigate your ship according to our orders,” said the Master, returning the stare. “We will accomplish our goal, which is all that you need to know.”
The Captain looked away. He could read the signs. Ca’cadasans were almost insanely brave, willing to sacrifice their lives on the command of any superior. But they still felt fear, especially when the task ahead was one they were sure they wouldn’t survive. And this Master was sure he wasn’t going to survive this mission. Which meant he and his crew wouldn’t either.
“I’m devoted to the Emperor,” he said to the Master. “I will do whatever is necessary to complete the mission. But I would like to know what we are doing, in case something happens to you and the ships around us, and it is up to me to finish the mission.”
“Nothing will happen to me,” said the Master in a growl. “And if anything does, do you really think your flimsy carcasses will survive. Now don’t say another word. Not if you want to live to see the end of this mission.”
The Captain turned away. When the Masters talked that way, they meant it. He sat back down at his station and accessed the ship’s computer, making sure that the information was coming through on a flat screen that was not viewable by any of the Masters from where they stood. And he started pulling up information on wormholes.
* * *
“Launching fighters, now,” called out the Wing Commander from his personal ship. The tactical plot showed the rest of his wing leaving their hangars, five at a time from the four egress ports, until all one hundred and eight of his fifteen hundred ton fighters were in space and accelerating onto the proper heading.
“We need you to get up to speed as fast as possible,” said Rear Admiral Lucille Mason over the com.
“I know, Admiral,” replied Captain Javier Chavez, looking over his tactical plan. Unfortunately, his ships could only come out of the inertialess bubble drive at the exact same velocity as they entered. It would take over an hour to get up to an optimal attack speed, one that would be useful upon exiting the bubble. They didn’t have that hour. His profile called for accelerating up to point two light, then erecting the bubble and forging ahead. Half of his force would be going after the enemy ships, popping out and getting in some shots before the enemy ran away from them, then jumping back into inertialess drive to catch up, repeat, and hopefully do enough damage to the enemy to stop their attack.
He had some new weapons aboard his ship, missiles that had worked well in testing. This was not testing, and none of his crews had fired any live weapons. From what he had heard the next iteration would be even more accurate. Right now they were like throwing rocks at a moving vehicle and hoping for a hit. But they were what they had, and no matter what they couldn’t allow the Donut to be taken out.
“I estimate we will be in first attack range fifteen minutes before the enemy ships get within beam range.”
And the rest of his wing, as well as all the ships of the other wings, would go after the missiles of the third wave. The station would have to handle the first two waves on its own. On paper that shouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately, battles weren’t fought on paper.
“Good luck and Godspeed, Captain,” said the Admiral, now through the Klassekian Com Tech who was obviating the growing delay as the fighters moved away from the carrier at over a thousand gravities acceleration.
Time seemed to stretch ahead in slow motion, even though it only took about eight minutes to build up on the velocity they had already carried from their launch vessel.
“Erecting bubble,” said the Pilot, as the electromagnetic bubble came to life and firmed up around the ship. Moments later the negative matter injected into the bubble surrounded the ship, and it was cut off from the Universe around it. “Going to maximum acceleration.”
The acceleration readout started rising, until it was registering twenty thousand gravities, none of it felt through the negative matter screen.
“We’re on profile,” called the Pilot, looking back at the Wing Commander.
“Feed him the navigation information constantly,” the Captain told his Klassekian Com Tech, hoping she was up to this kind of mission. “I also want constant readouts on the other ships in the wing.”
The alien shook her head, her eyes wide. She had been put through a crash course in how to be a spacer. A mon
th, when the course for enlisted personnel was six, and they really weren’t considered fully up to speed until after a year in the Fleet. And she had gone from her own culture, a thousand or more years behind the technology of the Empire, to working with the most advanced tech known to humanity. Which made her an unknown commodity in the eyes of the Captain.
“Just do what they taught you and everything will be fine,” said the Captain, holding up a hand. “And don’t be afraid to ask if you’re not sure. I would rather you do that, than be afraid of looking foolish.”
“Yes, sir,” said the alien in her strange accent.
Chavez looked back at the plot, watching as all of the ships of his command moved toward the enemy, on the proper profile, all of them depending on the strange looking aliens to get them to where they needed to be to do their job.
* * *
H-5.
“Lenkowski’s port flank is in contact with the enemy, ma’am” called out one of the Warroom Officers, looking up from the floor.
McCullom nodded as she sent the implant command to the plot, bringing up the view of a star system to the far side of the Kingdom of New Moscow. Icons appeared on the plot, clusters of them, over a thousand Imperial and allied ships. There was a large gap between them and another cluster of ships, the Caca fleet that was coming into the system. She zoomed in on the enemy force. Information started to display below individual icons that were now vector arrows. Acceleration, probable identification of mass and class, weapons fire. All of this was based on probability using the information available. At a distance of light hours, trying to scan ships based on their graviton emissions only, accuracy was sometimes wanting. It was a major problem in naval warfare, though it could be used by a smart planner for advantage. Which they were hoping would happen here.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 20
