“The take from our wormhole equipped ships say that this is the com hub of that force,” continued Kelso, and the forty-one ships that were arrayed around the enemy force, from ten light minutes to a light hour out, blinked on the plot.
Kelvin shook his head. This was an advantage that no commander in the history of the human race had ever enjoyed. There was always some com bleed off from ships communicating, whether it was broadcast, maser or laser. Ships that happened to get in the way of that bleed could calculate the direct line to the transmitting station or vessel. When several vessels were involved, they could triangulate to the ship or station. The limiting factor had always been the light speed transmission barrier, but the wormhole com system had defeated that limitation. Now all of the ships could send their data to the command ship at the same time, and they could triangulate to almost perfection.
“Calculate firing solutions for all wormhole launcher equipped ships,” commanded Kelvin, wishing that his own vessel, the super heavy battleship Constance the Great, was in a position to engage. She had been involved in the fight near the barrier, and had not only sustained damage, but had been forced to run outward from the barrier to survive. What he did have were two more of the same class of ship within a half light hour of the Caca force, plus the three superbattleships with a single launcher each, giving him seven of the weapons. The computers aboard Constance sent their information and recommendations to the other vessels, giving them their launch times and trajectories. At the proper times each ship launched, sending thirty missiles through each launcher, two hundred and ten of the one hundred and fifty ton missiles, speeding along at point nine light, all powered down with the exception of their electronic brains and passive sensors. They had been launched on a trajectory that would bring them into their target when it reached the point it would be at the time of impact. Coming in from five different angles. In a little over thirty three minutes the missiles would reach those targets. If all went according to plan, they would come cruising into the enemy fleet unnoticed until they were seconds from contact.
It took five minutes to realign the wormholes around the central black hole with another set of launchers. At that point another two hundred and ten missiles came out of the launchers, these on wider spreads that would carry them into the enemy to hopefully hit random targets.
* * *
“We’re one minute from translation, Admiral,” said the reptilian officer who manned the navigation console.
The Admiral in Command of the Combined Republic and Crakistan Fleet brought in a deep breath through her snout, banishing the small bit of anxiety that was still within her. I don’t have to win this battle, she thought, looking at the tactical holo that was being transmitted over the wormhole com. I just have to delay, until the human battle fleet gets here. And if the human Admiral, Kelvin, does what he said he would, it will make it much easier to outthink these, Cacas.
“First ships translating, now,” called out the Navigator in the sibilant voice of his species.
Those ships, squadrons of Crakistan and Republic scouts, were the first to enter normal space, their active sensors sending out blasts of energy to search for anything that might be there that wasn’t supposed to be. There were Imperial ships close by, guarding this translation point, so the odds were there wouldn’t be anything there waiting for them. Still, it made sense to adhere to the best practices for entering hostile space, which this essentially was.
“Targeting solutions coming in,” called out the Tactical Officer. The wormhole com was feeding the tactical information to the flagship, while its computers were crunching the data for all of the ships in the force.
“Translating, now,” said the Navigator, the lights of the bridge dimmed for a moment and the queasy feeling came over everyone aboard the ship. The Crakistan as a species were easy translators, and most of them recovered in seconds, while the humans aboard the flagship and the human vessels took moments longer. It wasn’t enough to slow down the strike that had been planned prior to the translation.
Normally, ships had to take some time to acquire targeting data when entering a system. While they could get a general idea of the number of ships in a system by the graviton emissions, they could not in general pinpoint exactly where those ships were. The information coming over the wormhole com had given them a detailed view of the system, and they no longer had to take that time.
Seconds after translation every ship in the force was receiving that targeting information, and moments later the commit panels before each capital ship’s tactical officer lit. Hundreds of organic palms slapped down on the panels, giving permission for the ships’ tactical computers to engage and carry out the program. Hundreds of ships released their full volleys, sending them toward the enemy fleet. They continued firing volleys until four had been released, and tens of thousands of weapons were heading for the enemy force, giving them something else to think about.
* * *
High Admiral Jarrassand’ra Kiritopath stared at the incoming missiles, over forty thousand of them, heading for his force. An equal number were on the way out, heading for an enemy force that was now boosting into the system. It would take about six hours for the enemy missile storm to reach his force, and over twelve for their ships to get within any kind of energy range. His own missiles would reach the enemy force in about five hours, and he was sure, due to their having fewer, less capable ships than he did, they would not do as well handling his attack.
What he didn’t know was that two hundred and ten weapons, traveling at point nine light, were less than a light minute from impact, coming in fully stealthed, set to power up when they were ten light seconds away. The missiles were very hard to detect, but not impossible. The closer they came the more likely their discovery. And even when they were picked up by the outer screen, the warning that would come in by grav wave would only be seconds ahead of the strike.
It was unlikely that something would get in the way of a missile by chance, but chance does happen, and in this unlikely case a Caca scout ship, which picked up the missile three seconds before contact at a range of just over two light seconds, was struck by a missile that carried more kinetic energy than the power of its one gigaton warhead.
The High Admiral heard the shouts of alarm as the six hundred thousand ton scout ship disappeared from the plot, no longer producing the gravitons the flagship was tracking it by. The scout ship was ten light seconds to the side of the flagship, and the human missiles were heading in on an intercept course that would strike the flagship in just over eleven seconds. Five of those seconds were wasted in confusion before the close in defense systems were brought online.
Six seconds was not enough time to sort out targets and assign priorities. Every ship that could fired on what was closest to them. There were some hits, and a score of weapons flared into bright points of fury, a few sending waves of heat and radiation into the nearest ships. The flagship engaged two missiles that were homing in, blasting both from space, one within fifty thousand kilometers. The next four hit as close together to be essentially simultaneous, impacting with scores of gigatons of kinetic energy that shattered the superbattleship, converting the vessel and all aboard to plasma and small particles. The four, one gigaton warheads detonated almost as an afterthought, while the antimatter aboard breached with additional hundreds of gigatons of force. And with that, the two brightest Cacas in the force were removed from the chain of command.
The blast destroyed several score of the incoming missiles, detonating their warheads and adding little to the destruction. A dozen more flew through the fury and into the plasma cloud, exploding on contact with the spreading matter. Over a hundred kicked in the grabbers, boosting at ten thousand gravities, engaging their ECM and sensors and homing in on secondary targets. Now every ship could see them, and over half the missiles were engaged and destroyed, while the other half took out twelve more ships, and damaged over thirty others.
When the second wave came alo
ng five minutes later the Cacas were ready for them, or as ready as anyone could be against fast moving missiles that were not boosting. Still, they were firing lasers along the approach paths that the first wave had come through, and some missiles were destroyed, then more as they got closer and kicked in their grabbers. It was still not enough time for the standard defensive response, not enough time to engage with long range counters, not even enough for the short range interceptors to get into the act. The cost was another twenty-three ships destroyed, another thirty some damaged.
Moments later they ran into the next minefield, which gave them something more to think about.
* * *
Thirty-three hours normal Galactic time to the system, thought Grand Fleet Admiral Lenkowski, watching the tactical plot closely. They were now under point ninety-four light, their electromagnetic field strong enough to protect them from their velocity generated particle radiation. Medical had just been around with nanite boosters, and the Admiral was already feeling better, though he wasn’t sure how much of that was psychological.
He didn’t like what the plot was showing him. Kelvin was still scattered about the outer system, keeping track of the Cacas and hitting when and how he could. He only had three hundred ships, and most of them had at least some damage. He had four hundred and fifty ships in the inner squadron, less some that were still in orbit as decoys, which were moving at a right angle to the incoming Cacas, and were posturing to threaten their flank if they kept coming on. And the joint Crakistan/Republic fleet was still heading into the system, bracing for the oncoming missile swarm the Cacas had launched at them, while their own missiles were heading into the Caca force. He expected the friendly force to get the worst of that exchange, and he was surprised the Crakistan Admiral hadn’t taken the option of deceling as soon as she entered the system, with the option of heading out and jumping into hyper before the missiles got there. He understood her thinking, that if they remained in the system and heading for the Cacas, she might force them to react to her and slow their advance toward the planet. Still, it was a hard way to force a reaction, putting her entire fleet at risk.
Len had skirmished with the Crakistans early in his career, and found them to be an honorable but tenacious foe. They were turning out to be an honorable and tenacious ally. And then there was his force. He had no doubt he would destroy the Caca force when he arrived in the system, but the question was, would anything be left there to defend when he translated in?
Chapter Six
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
Carl Sagan.
APRIL 12TH, 1002.
Sean sat back in the comfortable chair in the conference room, the chamber lent to him by the planetary governor and within that official’s palace. It was just a spacious and luxuriously appointed as what he was used to in the Emperor’s palace. Of course, there was only so much that could be done to a conference room, and a rich society like the Empire would make sure that all such chambers met the minimum standards of the elite who would be using them.
An image shimmered in one of the chairs, firming up to become the hologram of Samantha Ogden Lee, his cousin and regent. Hopefully in the near future she would work herself out of a job, and the Empress would handle her duties when Sean was away from the capital. But the learning curve for dealing with the politicians and bureaucrats of the Imperial Government was a steep one, and intelligent as Jennifer was, it would take time. Her image faded into existence in the chair next to Samantha, and Sean’s implant told him that they were both in the same chamber in the Imperial Palace. Next in was the military delegation; Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom, the Chief of Naval Operations; the Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, the Army Chief of Staff; and Field Marshal Betty Parker, the Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps. Their images stood and saluted, and Sean waved them back to their seats.
Prime Minister Countess Haruko Kawasaki and the Baron Emile von Hausser Schmidt, the Leader of the House of Lords, were next to appear. Lord T’lisha, the Phlistaran Minister of Security and Ekaterina Sergiov, the Chief of the Imperial Intelligence Agency were the last to arrive, and all of the attendants were there. Missing were the other leaders of the Parliament, and the rest of the Cabinet Ministers. For now the people here were all he wanted here, sworn to secrecy. The others could be brought in later, when the time was right.
“I assume everyone has read the reports from Commodore Sung,” began Sean, looking around the chamber at all the virtuals who were attending this meeting. He was the only one who was actually here, even his Secret Service detail restricted from this meeting, forbidden from monitoring the room. “And, of course, have seen the vids she has sent through the wormhole.”
“I for one thought the warriors were frightening,” said Jennifer with a grimace. “And I’m not sure I like the manner in which they were engineered.”
“I have some reservations about that myself, your Majesty,” said Baron von Hausser Schmidt. “And I have to wonder about the utility of creating constructs with such short life spans. It seems like the survivors of the Exodus IV have taken to playing God.”
“But they had reason to make them that way,” protested Field Marshal Parker, clenching her fists. “They’re facing the same murderous bastards we are, and did what they had to do to survive. As far as they knew, they were the last humans left in the Universe, so they used a science that they were expert at and made the best weapon they could.”
“But, why make them so short lived?” asked Samantha, her expression showing her distaste for the whole thing.
“So they would move faster, mature faster, grow to adulthood at a faster pace,” said Grand Marshal Yamakuri. “And we do the same thing with our enhanced soldiers.”
“Not really, Grand Marshal,” growled Lord T‘lisha in his basso voice. “We do not create augmenteds that have no choice in what they are going to be. We only work with adult volunteers, people who know what they are getting into. These people are given an abbreviated life as warriors for this Empire without asking their permission.”
“Sung was sent to make contact with people who could aid us in the war,” said Parker, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the image of the big Phlistaran. “I would say that she found what she was looking for. The policies of this other human Empire are their own business. I say as long as they are powerful, and able to aid our cause, we should in return give them all the tech and material aid they need to fight the Cacas.”
“But, genocide,” said Jennifer, almost spitting out the last word. “How can we ally ourselves with a power that wipes out entire intelligent species?”
“That’s all conjecture at this point,” said Yamakuri. “Based on a few comments by the Klavarta, and some guesswork by Sung and her staff. We’ll have no way of determining what the truth is until we get more information.”
Sean looked over at his one military leader who hadn’t spoken yet. “What’s your feeling on this Sondra?”
The woman looked around for a moment, as if afraid to speak out. Sean raised a hand to keep anyone else from speaking for a moment, then looked the question at his CNO.
“I, really don’t feel right about these people, your Majesty,” said McCullom, closing her eyes. “I don’t think I can put it in words, but it feels wrong. Like we’re about to get into bed with evil to fight evil.”
“Just like the Soviets in the Second World War, on old Earth” said Samantha, nodding. “I get the same feeling.”
Everyone at the table closed their eyes for a moment, going into link, looking up the reference.
“That might be appropriate, your Majesty,” said McCullom, opening her eyes. “Stalin was an evil bastard, and his government one of the worst totalitarian regimes in history. But he was in the war, and it made sense to jump into bed with him.”
“In bed with the devil,” said the Prime Minister. “And look at all the problems that came along after the war because the Western Powers propped up that regime during the co
nflict.”
“And if the Soviet Union had fallen to Hitler, what would have been the result?” said Parker. “If Germany had won, all of those problems with the Soviets would have gone away. But can we say the problems of a Germany ruling Europe have been any better? The Western allies of the time didn’t think so.”
“Again,” cautioned Yamakuri, raising a hand, “this talk of genocide is pure conjecture. Something we have absolutely no proof of. And until we do, I advise that we don’t jump to conclusions. Sung and her people should continue with their mission, meet the leaders of these people, and find out.”
“I don’t think they really have much of a choice,” said McCullom, a troubled expression on her face. “After all, they are in the lair of the beast, if such they turn out to be. But if these people, as Sung calls them, do turn out to be genocidal bastards, I recommend we bring her and her crews back through the wormhole while they’re stopped in a system, then self-destruct their ships. That way we leave them alone, and they leave us alone.”
“I think we need these people,” said Yamakuri, staring at the image of his fellow service chief. “We won’t get another chance to enlist these Klavarta on our side. No matter what the back story is on them. If they turn out to be devils, we can deal with that side of them after the war.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 9: Second Front Page 8
