Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike

by Doug Dandridge

  “I want a staff meeting called, immediately,” he told Kelso over the link. “We need to discuss strategy, and issue orders, now.”

  “How about twenty minutes, in the flag conference room, your Majesty,” said the head of his staff.

  “Do it. I’ll expect everyone involved to have some general idea of the strategic situation, so we can hit the ground running.” Sean severed the link and went back to studying the plot, bringing up his military dispositions and committing them to his implant memory. We might just be able to do this, he thought, juggling the pros and cons in his mind. We just might be able to knock those little assholes out of this war, or at least make them wish they had never gotten involved.

  * * *

  “You sure you want to do that, your Majesty?” asked Grand Fleet Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski, sitting in on the conference by holo projection through the wormhole com. “With another operation coming up in the near future?”

  “Hell,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda, also sitting in by com holo. “We’ve got the tech to pull it off. Might as well use it while we can.”

  The unspoken statement in there was that they might not be able to count on the Donut in the future, with that future still up in the air. They might only have the wormholes they now possessed into the foreseeable future.

  “And your opinion on the matter, Sondra?” asked the Emperor of Grand High Admiral McCollum, the Chief of Naval Operations.

  “I say hit those sorry shits with everything we have, your Majesty,” said the woman, sitting in a chair almost a thousand light years away, on the capital planet of Jewel. “From what I understand, the window for the supernova really doesn’t start for another month, so if we give them two weeks of hell, we can still be ready for the kickoff of Bagration. It will be tight, but it would be nice to secure that flank. In the long run, I think it will help with our concentration of forces.”

  “Mary?”

  Captain Mary Innocent, Sean’s Staff Intelligence Officer, looked up from her flat screen with a look of concentration on her face. “I concur, your Majesty,” said the woman with a slight strained smile. “With a few reservations. We can’t really be sure when the supernova event is going to kick off. We have research vessels near to the star, but something like this has never before happened in the Empire.”

  “And by that, you mean two supergiants spiraling into one?” asked McCollum.

  “Exactly, ma’am. I think we need a real expert on scene to observe the star. A theoretical astrophysicist who specializes in supernova events. And I think I have just the man.”

  The holo came up over the table, showing a middle aged man with a pleasant expression on his face. Intelligent eyes looked out of the holo as it rotated to show everyone at the table his face.

  “Dr. Larry Southard, of the University of New Detroit, on the planet of that name. Specializing in Mathematical models of stellar decay, including novas, supernovas, and even hypernovas. Over a hundred and forty peer reviewed papers in the field, a stint in Exploration Command, and considered the foremost expert on the phenomenon. I think we need a man like this eyeballing the star as it goes through its final stages, so we have the best possible judgment on when it’s going to blow.”

  “Get him,” said Sean, nodding. “No matter what it takes. If he won’t be reasonable, call up his reserve commission. But get him on a research ship orbiting that star. I want to know to the second when it is going off, as soon as he can figure it out.”

  Bagration depended on that star going supernova. When a large object like a blue supergiant blew up, it not only sent huge waves of photons from across the electromagnetic spectrum out at the speed of light, photons of gamma rays, xrays, visible light and the searing heat that accompanied those masses of photons. They also sent most of the star’s mass as superhot particles, at high speed, though not at anywhere near the speed of light. And, of course, the gravitons that had been coming out of the mass of the star, telling the Universe that it was there, continued to move at light speed into the space surrounding the expanding mass. They changed in quality and quantity as the mass expanded from a high gravity source to a much more dispersed source of matter.

  Gravitons also travelled through hyperspace, moving at light speed across the more compact expanse of the other dimensions. In hyper VIII they were moving at a pseudospeed of over one hundred and sixty times the speed of light. And there would be millions of times more of them released by the explosion than was normal for the extant stellar body. They reverberated through all levels of hyper, transmitting the thunderous roar of the explosion, as it were, through hyper, for hundreds of light years in each direction, and swamping the sounds given off by the graviton emissions of smaller objects, such as star ships. For weeks at a time ships would be very hard to detect, if not simply impossible. And the star in question was the combination of two very large supergiants that had spiraled together, leading to an unprecedented explosion.

  And hopefully, we’ll be around long enough to shield the planets within killing range of that monster, thought the Emperor. Because any supernova was deadly to the planetary systems around them, and a monster even more so. Everything fifty light years and out was at risk from deadly particle radiation. Fortunately, the closest inhabited system was about eight light years away, giving the Empire over ten years to put up the particle shielding the one habitable planet needed to keep its life in the state of living.

  “OK, people. Let’s get those hulls rolling. I want the Fenri to feel our wrath, then switch back in time to hit the Cacas.”

  “I hope we have enough to accomplish both missions,” said Len, his eyes narrowing. “If we get bogged down in the Fenri Empire, we might have problems with disengagement.”

  “Then I want to minimize those problems, Len. That’s why you’re going to command that operation. Anyone got a good name for it?”

  “How about Surigoa,” suggested Duke Mgonda, referring to a naval battle in old Earth’s World War 2, in which the United States defeated the Japanese last gasp in the Philippines in one of four separate actions.

  Sean took a second to check his link to look over the reference, then nodded his head. “Surigoa it is, your Grace. And I think we can commit some of our newest tech to hitting the bastards, though we’ll still be light on wormholes.” The problem being, as all present knew, that they still couldn’t reliably move a wormhole equipped ship through another wormhole. Meaning that they still lost over sixty percent of the unmanned test ships in trials, and no one wanted to suggest sending a manned warship, even a destroyer, much less a battleship, through such a high risk transit.

  “So we’re a go on Operation Surigoa,” said Sean, looking at the nodding heads of all gathered. “And Bagration as soon as we have the window. So now all we have to is finalize our dispositions for the operation, and get them where they need to be.” As if that will be easy, he thought with a smile.

  * * *

  “It was a pleasure having you aboard, your Grace,” said Rear Admiral Kelso, taking the Archduke’s hand in his own.

  His Grace Percival Marconi, leader of the Opposition Party of Parliament, smiled. “I wish I could say that it was enjoyable, Admiral. But it was most informative. Especially seeing that young man in action during the heat of battle. I have a much better appreciation of the hardships we face, and the potentials for success.”

  “Glad to hear it, your Grace,” said the Admiral, returning the smile.

  And I’ve got some butt to kick in my own party when I get home, thought Marconi, looking at the mirrored surface of the wormhole that would take him to the Central Docks, the Donut still not a safe destination. Especially Countess Zhee, if she tries to pull some kind of power play. Marconi was a power to be reckoned with in the Lords, and he had many friends in all of the triple houses of the Parliament. At the moment he was feeling slightly ashamed at his efforts to obstruct Sean, and Augustine before him. But I acted in good faith, he thought, looking at the wormhole, w
aiting for the green light to proceed. Good faith, and mistaken beliefs. Now it’s up to me to make amends for my actions, and swing the full support of the Lords to this Emperor’s side.

  The light turned green, and the naval rating who was the watchdog for transport waved him on. The wormhole system could absorb quite a bit of the difference in velocity of the sending and transmitting stations. Quite a bit didn’t mean anything above point two c. With missiles and particle beams that was fine. The military wanted them to come out at high velocity. With people, not so much, as slamming into a wall at point zero one c was still enough to completely pulp the body into a thin aerial mist.

  “You just fight the war, Admiral,” said the Archduke, turning before he walked through the mirror. “And we’ll get you what you need.” With that, he stepped through the wormhole, and into the disorienting stretching of time that its travel entailed.

  * * *

  FENRI SPACE. NOVEMBER 22ND, 1001.

  “There goes the last of our orbital defenses,” said Lt. General Jonah Nowitski, the commander of XXXXI Heavy Corps, of which Brigadier General Samuel Baggett’s Three Eighty Fourth Heavy Infantry Division was part.

  Baggett looked at the holo above the tactical table of his HQ bunker, seeing the last of the defense satellites the Fleet had left in orbit blinking for a moment before fading. The icons approaching the planet were still there, though the orbital satellites had scored some hits while that Fenri fleet was on final approach.

  “Seems like such a waste to have put them there in the first place,” came the deep voice of Major General Lanbardran, the Phlistaran commander of the One Ninety-fifth Heavy Infantry Division, which, along with the Forty-third Armored Division, made up the Corps that had attacked this planet. “They are so fragile, and fleeting. Just targets for the enemy to knock down.”

  Baggett agreed. The satellites lacked even the defenses of the larger forts, while their only real striking power was in the missiles that they carried. Even a near miss by a powerful warhead would take them out. But they had been all the Fleet had been willing to leave behind when they bugged out. With the promise that they would return, he thought, wondering how much truth there was in that oath.

  “The enemy is six hours from orbital insertion,” said the Corps Commander, whose command was only at half strength as it was. “I intend to hit them hard as soon as they start landing operations.”

  That was the standard tactic to oppose an invasion. Shore batteries, missiles, lasers, particle beams, even projectile cannons, waiting, powered down and in hiding, until the enemy ships started to pump out their assault shuttles. That was when the enemy would be at their most vulnerable, with openings in cold plasma fields. Still, those planetary guns could only count on getting in a couple of shots before they were taken out by kinetics. Really, the only defense against an enemy fleet was another fleet, and theirs was nowhere in evidence.

  Baggett shook his head as he looked at the display of ground assets they had. Enough to sting that enemy, if not stop them. And he wondered how heavy the enemy response would be. Probably heavy as hell, he thought, looking at his secondary and tertiary command positions, his out if they discovered this position. And if they knock out the Corps and other division commanders, I get to move up rank again, he thought. Not that I really want corps command. Hell, I really didn’t want division command, not at the price the Major General had to pay.

  “When can we expect fleet support?” asked Major General Natasha Romanov, a distant cousin of the Emperor, but, from what Baggett could tell, a woman who had gained her rank honestly. It was a stupid question, of course, since Nowitski had no answer, and everyone knew as much. But it was the same question that Baggett wanted to ask, and he was sure Lanbardran as well.

  “From the number of troop transports the enemy has in their force, my intelligence staff estimates we will be facing at least six heavy divisions, or as many as fourteen lighter formations, replied the Corps Commander, ignoring the question.”

  So at best we’ll be outnumbered four to one, thought Baggett. About proper odds to take a planetary surface, especially when they have the high ground of orbit. And there’s no telling what Marines the warships carry, and how many they might be willing to deploy. Probably all of them, if it allows them to take the planet.

  “I think we have done as much planning as we can, since our next step will depend on the enemy’s,” said the Lt. General. “I have looked over all of your contingency plans, and approved them.”

  Baggett nodded again. He had tried to come up with every response he could think of to every action the enemy might pursue. That was staff work that he did not have a lot of experience with, being as he had been a battalion commander a year before. It had been on the job training to try and master the most basic of general staff training, and he was thankful that the corps commander had looked over and approved his dispositions and responses to enemy action.

  “I will let you people get back to making your last minute plans,” said Nowitski, looking out of the holo at each of the division commanders. “It has been an honor serving with you. From this moment on, we will go to landline and short range transmission only. So I will only contact you if it is vital to the battle plan.”

  The holo died after the CO said those words, and Baggett made a mental note to make sure that his division was also on tight com discipline, at least until the battle was joined and the jammers came online. It wouldn’t do for the still distant enemy to get a fix on his division’s transmissions, and hit them with kinetics as they were inserting into orbit.

  Chapter Three

  Thus it is that in war the victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won, whereas he who is destined to defeat first fights and afterwards looks for victory.

  Sun Tzu

  THE DONUT. NOVEMBER 22ND, 1001.

  “So what in the hell do we do with this thing?” asked Cornelius, looking at the large container that held an explosive device of a magnitude he really couldn’t comprehend.

  “We sure as hell can’t disarm it, can we?” said Jimmy Chung, standing beside him.

  There was the Naval Commando, Petty Officer Satrusalya, standing with them, as well as another Secret Service Agent and a civilian who had been dragooned for his expertise on this part of the station.

  “If we had negative matter,” said Cornelius, shaking his head.

  “But we don’t,” yelled Satrusalya, glaring at the bomb. “And it’s no use talking about what we don’t have.”

  Chung’s eyes unfocused for a moment, the sign of a link. “We can get some more negative matter here. But it will take a while.”

  “How long?” asked Cornelius, who had seemed to have taken command of the group by dint of leading the assault that had gotten them here.

  “Fifteen minutes. A half an hour. Maybe more.”

  “We aren’t going to have more than five minutes, Government Man,” growled Satrusalya, glancing over at Chung.

  Ten at the most, thought Cornelius.

  We need to get this thing off the station,” said the PO, pointing to a hatch in the floor. “Where does that lead to?”

  “There’s a storage room underneath here,” said the civilian, a Doctor Boudreaux. “It fronts the bottom part of the station.”

  “Then that’s what we need to do,” said the Naval Commando. “Drop this bitch into the bottomless pit, and let the hole take care of it.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Cornelius, looking around. “Anyone got any idea of how to move this damned thing.”

  “I think I can come up with something,” said Boudreaux, moving to the hatch, which was more than large enough to accommodate the bomb. He started working the controls to the hatch while looking up at the other men. “I might need some cover, if the room under here has Cacas in it.”

  Fortunately it didn’t, and the scientist moved down the ladder that connected the edge of the hatch to the floor, a Ranger leading the way, two Agents following
. Cornelius stood by the bomb and waited, afraid to leave it, lest something come along and take it from him. He tapped into the com link and found that his fear was not unwarranted. There were still Cacas in the area, though busy with the Imperial Marines they were trying to contain. Which doesn’t mean some of them won’t think of the bomb and come to check on it. Especially when no one answers their com calls from this area.

  The scientist came running back after climbing the stairs, a stout device held in his hands that he didn’t seem to be having any difficulty moving. Following him were the other three men, each with a similar device in hand.

  “What are those?” asked Cornelius, as the scientist attached his near the front side of the container.

  “Antigravs,” said the man, supervising the installation of the second unit near the front, while Satrusalya made sure the other two were secured to the rear. “They make it much easier to move objects in the cargo areas. Activating, now,” he said, pushing a button on the first one he had attached.

  The heavy bomb rose slightly into the air, now a couple of centimeters above the floor.

  “Help me get it to the hatch,” said Boudreaux, grabbing the handle on the unit and lifting.

  Cornelius grabbed another handle, and four men pushed the bomb toward the hatch. The antigravs took all the weight, but the massive device still had all of its mass, and they had to maneuver it carefully, not allowing it to build up too much momentum as they got it near the opening. It still overshot some, their combined strength unable to slow it in time, and with some grunts they pushed it back till it was over the opening. The Lieutenant breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the hatch was just big enough to accept the bomb. They could have always turned it on its end, but that would have been a trial and error proposition, and one he really didn’t think they had time for.