“Setting grabbers for automatic station keeping,” said the Tech, pushing several control panels, as the klaxons and flashing lights died.
“How many of these do I have to go through?” whispered Lucille. She turned to the Supervisor. “Get repair crews to work on the damaged cable and hull sections. I want us at one hundred percent integrity as soon as possible.” Which will probably take a couple of months, but we can be operational again in twenty-four.
“Lucille,” said a voice over her internal com link. “Are you alright?”
“God, but it’s good to hear your voice, Jimmy Chung,” she said over the link, a smile stretching her face. “I thought maybe I had lost you. Was getting rid of that bomb your doing?”
“I wish I could claim that it was me,” said the Agent, his voice sounding as weary as she had ever heard it. “No, it was our legendary warrior. The man’s a machine.”
“Walborski, again,” said Lucille, not really surprised at the answer. “Did, did he make it?”
“I don’t know how,” said Jimmy after a short chuckle. “I don’t think he knows how to die. If he doesn’t get another medal out of this, I don’t know if anyone would ever deserve one again.”
“Director Yu,” said a voice interrupting on the com. “Priority call for you. It’s the Emperor.”
“I’ve got to take that call, Jimmy. But I can’t wait to hear your tale.” She cut the link and picked up the other call, anxious to give the man who ruled the Empire the good news.
Chapter Four
War involves in its progress such a train of unforeseen circumstances that no human wisdom can calculate the end; it has but one thing certain, and that is to increase taxes.
Thomas Paine
CONGREEVE SPACE. NOVEMBER 22ND, 1001
Thank god, thought Sean, after he had gotten off the com with Director Yu. If we had lost that station, I don’t know what we would have done. We have to increase security on that thing, and fast.
Sean got up from his chair, where he had been sitting, waiting anxiously for the news to come, good or bad. What the hell am I going to do with that boy? was his next thought, a smile on his face. I’ve already given him two of our highest award for bravery, and I have a feeling that he will be earning more. The day the Cacas killed his wife was the day they birthed one of their worst nightmares.
He thought for a moment, a difficult thing to do with his fatigue. A knighthood in is his immediate future. He can’t refuse that. And at least a Golden Sun. That was the second ranked medal in the Empire, and Sean thought Cornelius would probably gather several of them as well before he was through.
“I’m turning in,” Sean spoke into the chamber’s com system. “Do not disturb, unless it’s something vital.” I have to delegate some of this stuff. Like Jennifer said, I have the best people possible in their positions, so it’s about time I used them. And Len should be on his way in the next couple of hours. If anyone can handle the situation with the Fenri Empire, it’s him.
With that last thought the exhausted monarch left the room, ignoring the bodyguards that fell in around him, and made his way to the nearest lift, looking forward to being able to close his eyes. And hoping he didn’t have another dream to disrupt his serenity.
* * *
Jennifer had been exhausted after the battle, even though she had done nothing physical, other than staying awake and supporting Sean. But emotionally she had been overtaxed. Not that she was not used to stress, just a different kind. She had fought for people’s lives in the rare situations where medicine actually had trouble preserving life, which didn’t happen all that much in civilian life. The child she had saved from the ravenous fungus that had attacked him on Sestius, for example. Most often even a catastrophic mistake by a surgeon could be rectified by putting the patient into cryo, and later fixing the damage. And that was when nanites couldn’t just be injected into the damaged area and put to work.
Military decisions were completely different, as she had learned. Ships that had been converted to plasma and small pieces, along with their crews, could not be placed in cryo. They could not be rebuilt. She had watched as those ships had been destroyed following the orders of her fiancé, and she had been able to tell from his expression that he felt every one of those deaths, knowing that they could not be avoided, and still feeling responsible for them.
She was having a nightmare about that battle, seeing Sean calling out orders to his people, trying to avert the disaster heading his way. That disaster was in the form of hundreds of Ca’cadasan ships, driving through their fire, accelerating, launching swarms of missiles as they closed into beam weapon’s range. And Sean was trying to come up with a solution, something to save his ship, and his love, his eyes looking over at her as he grimaced at the fate that awaited them both.
A hand on her back woke her from the nightmare, her breath hissing in at the start that the touch evoked. She started to turn, ready to fight whatever it was that was coming at her out of the night.
“Easy,” said a gentle voice in her ear. “It’s just me. You’re having a bad dream.”
Sean climbed into the bed and pressed his body against hers. She dismissed the dream from her mind as she concentrated on the warmth and scent of the man now next to her. With a shifting of her body she turned around to face her lover, her arms going around his body, feeling the hard muscle of his chest against hers, and corded strength of his back.
“How can you go through that?” she asked, looking into his eyes and seeing the pain that still resided there. “How can any of your people hold up to that.”
“Because someone has to,” said Sean with a head shake. “If we don’t, then who will.”
“You could stay in the capital, and let your senior officers handle the battles for you,” she said, tightening her grip around him, feeling that if she didn’t hold tight he would simply fade away. “You know, like most Emperors.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “I know, I have the wormhole coms to stay in touch. I could give orders from complete safety, but I won’t. That would be unfair to the men and women I order into danger.”
“I can’t go through that again,” said Jennifer, tears spilling from her eyes. “I’m not strong enough to watch so many die, and not be able to do anything about it.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” said Sean after kissing the tears from her cheeks. “But you really have nothing to do but observe, and that’s cruelty, plain and simple.” Sean took in a deep breath, releasing it as if trying to clear tension from his body. “I don’t want you to come on the next operation,” he said, almost blurting out the words. “I know you want to be with me. But as you said,” Sean said hurriedly, “this is pure torture to you. And it would make me feel better if you were safe.”
Jennifer lay there for a moment, her hands caressing the back of her lover, while his own fingers gently played across her upper arms and shoulders. I don’t want to be away from your side. But I’m really accomplishing nothing by being aboard ship. Except to satisfy my own urges. And is that fair to all the other serving men and women in this fleet, who are separated from their own loved ones?.
“I will agree to stay on Jewel with two conditions,” she finally said, putting a finger to Sean’s lips. “And by stay on Jewel, I mean most of the time. You will still need me to be your ambassador across the core worlds. Which, with the wormhole gates, shouldn’t be too much of a hardship.” Especially with her predilection for extreme nausea during hyper translation. Not that wormhole travel was pleasant, with its stretching of subjective time during transit. Just less unpleasant than ship travel.
“And what are your two conditions?”
“One,” she said, tapping him on the lips with her right index finger. “You stay on board the biggest, baddest ship in the fleet, and surround yourself with bunches of other ships. After all, you wouldn’t expect Len or Taelis to lead from the front during a battle.”
“I wouldn’t,�
�� he started to say.
“Oh yes, you would,” she stopped him in mid-sentence. “You have the mindset of a Medieval king, wanting to lead from the front so you can hit your opponent over the head with your mace, or sword, or some other silly ancient weapon. And they stopped doing that crap when firearms made the battlefield too dangerous for royalty. I’ve read my history, mister, so don’t tell me that doesn’t go through that anachronistic mind of yours.”
“But, Augustine is a heavy warship. I need her firepower at the decision point of the battle.”
“Then take another ship for your flag, you idiot,” she said in exasperation. “Maybe a battle cruiser that could flee if necessary, though I’d feel better if you chose a standard battleship. And don’t tell me that sets a bad precedent. Most fleet commanders through history have stayed away from enemy fire, when possible. At least those who grew up with any kind of tech. So, promise me you’ll make the smart play, and stay out of close in combat.”
Sean thought for a moment, then nodded his head. “OK, I can do that.”
“And don’t think you can just lie to me and do what you want,” she said, a pouting expression on her face. “I have my sources. And with wormhole com, I can find out where you are.”
“OK, I give up. I was thinking that, but I won’t try to fool you.”
“Good. Play games with me, and you will lose.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sean said with a laugh. “And what’s the second condition?”
“I want to get married. Not sometime in the indefinite future, but now. Well, not on this ship, but as soon as we can get back to Jewel. And then I want to get pregnant, with your child. You have a succession to think of, you know, and the sooner you have an heir, the better, especially with your insisting on putting your Imperial ass into the hot zones.”
Sean was silent for a moment, and Jennifer worried for a moment that she might have pushed him too far.
“We can be married in a week,” he said with a smile. “That’s kind of rushing things, but since we have the wormholes in place through most of the Core Worlds, I think we can get our guests to and from the ceremony on time.”
“That would be wonderful,” said Jennifer, with a thought through her implants disabling the sterilization protocols on the nanites in her ovaries. But I’m not fertile, yet, she thought, monitoring the state of her reproductive system in disappointment. Of course they will make alterations to my child, she thought, something that had caused her some trepidation in the past. But, since talking with the geneticists, she was now of the opinion that most of her genetic contribution would remain. It would be her child.
“Now,” she said, kissing him on the lips and maintaining the connection till she was almost out of breath in her passion. “I know we can’t conceive a child until we’re home, so the geneticists can have a go at the zygote. But that doesn’t mean we can’t practice. If you’re up to it.” From the feeling of him against her, she was sure he was.
* * *
SECTOR III PACE, OUTSIDE OF FENRI SPACE. NOVEMBER 24TH, 1001.
Len Lenkowski still didn’t like traveling by wormhole, though he had to admit that it had a lot of advantages. The Donut was over a week’s travel time from his ship by hyper VII, and Anastasia Romanov was only a hyper VI ship, which would have taken a month to make the same trip. That didn’t include the sixty light hours of normal space they would have had to traverse within the gravity well of the hole, a trip of at least ninety hours travel time. Instead, he had been able to take one step and cover those multiple hundreds of light years. But the disorientation was unnerving, to say the least.
“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” said the full Captain that had been sent to greet him, saluting the six star flag officer who had once had another star on his collar before his demotion to a combat command. She was a petite woman with Asian features, red hair, and green eyes.
“Thank you, Captain?”
“Hyori Gae, sir. I’m a native of New Seoul.”
“And you are?”
“Admiral Kelvin’s Flag Captain, sir. I was sent to escort you to the Admiral’s flagship, King Edward II.”
Lenkowski nodded, remembering the man that he had recommended himself to command the expeditionary force into Fenri space. And what a joy it must be for a Fleet Admiral to have to greet the man who is there to take away his operational command. At least he will still retain a task group command within the fleet.
“What kind of ship is King Ed?” he asked the pretty woman on the way out of the wormhole chamber to a tram. The Admiral stopped for a moment, and looked around at the station.
“She’s a superbattleship,” said the Captain. “Hyper VI. And no sir, none of the action occurred near here, from what I heard. The bombs were set about five thousand kilometers to spinward.”
This thing has twenty-five million kilometers of circumference, and we have barely begun to use it, he thought as a tram decelerated into the station and its doors slid open. He followed the Captain into the tram and took a seat. Another man started to get on, and Gae held up a hand to keep the Marine from entering.
“I thought you might want to ask me questions about our dispositions, sir,” explained the Captain after the door closed and the tram started on its way.
“I already have a pretty good idea what you have,” he told the Captain. “There will, of course, be more coming once you get your end of the ship gate erected. But we will need to move the wormholes around, at least some of them. The ships coming through the gates won’t have any, and some of them will be designated flagships of new task forces.”
The Captain nodded her head and activated a flat comp she pulled from her belt pouch. As the Admiral talked, she made notations, then repeated his orders back to him to make sure she had gotten him correct.
She’s a very efficient officer, he thought as the tram accelerated for some minutes, then coasted for ten before it decelerated into another station. Maybe I should preempt her for my own staff. He thought that over for a minute before dismissing the idea. His own staff would be following along in a couple of hours, and it wasn’t fair to take away Admiral Kelvin’s command, flagship and flag captain.
“We will have some army brigades coming through in their transports,” said Lenkowski as they disembarqued and walked quickly to the next gate room. “We’ll want them assigned to the proper convoys, ready to offload when they reach the planet.”
They approached the door to the gate chamber they wanted, this one guarded by a squad of Marines in full battle armor. All of the gates in this room led to ships or military installations, not to be accessed by the common traveler who might wander in. Len thought that there would soon be more guards on chambers like this, as well as upgraded security on all gate rooms. We almost lost this thing due to not having sufficient security, he thought as the guards scanned his DNA, then poked him with a needle for a deep scan, making sure he wasn’t one of the shifters.
And I hope to God they catch that damned shape shifter that was impersonating Admiral O’Hara. He had been classmates with the real Fleet Admiral Benjamin O’Hara on Peal Island. He had never really liked the man, but he had been a competent officer, who had risen to his rank through merit and ability. And now he was most probably dead, since the damn shifters tended to kill those who they would imitate.
“This way, sir,” said the Captain, leading the way to one of the gates, this one with a pair of Marines guarding it as well, as were about a dozen more portals that must have led to other flagships.
Len hesitated a moment after the Captain preceded him. God, but I hate this. But I’ll hate it whether I go through now or wait, so might as well do it. He stepped through the portal, and once again experienced the stretching of time and space, feeling disoriented as he stepped onto the deck of the superbattleship at the other end.
“Admiral on the deck,” yelled out a voice, and Len turned to see a line of officers waiting, hands raised to berets in salute. One wore the red beret of a ship’s ca
ptain, and beyond them were a line of red coated Marines holding ceremonial rifles at the ready.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” asked Len, returning the salute.
“Permission granted, sir,” said the Captain, dropping the salute as soon as Len had, then extending his hand. “Captain Vincent Oldenburg, commander of the King Edward II.”
“Named after an Earther,?” asked Lenkowski, trying to remember where he had heard that name before.
“Yes, sir. One of the Kings of old England,” the man said with pride in the name of his ship. “Not the nicest man in the world, but a true warrior king.”
“Is Admiral Kelvin aboard?”
“No, sir,” said the Captain. “The Admiral moved his flag to the Pharaoh Ramses I, since he figured you would want Edward for your flag.”
Len grunted a reply as he pulled up the ship on his link that the Captain had just designated. Ramses was also a superbattleship, twenty million tons of warship, same as Edward, and the largest class of ship he would have in this command. He would have liked to have a couple of the new dreadnaughts, a name he knew the Emperor despised. Maybe we could call these ships heavy battleship, and redesignate the new vessels superbattleships.
“Let me see your flag bridge. I want to have a look at the tactical holo.” That was something he could do on his link, now that he was aboard the ship and officially in command of the fleet designated as Battlefleet Sector III. He stilled like to look at the full sized holo in its tank, though he scanned the dispositions on his link on the way to the flag bridge and its huge holographic tank.
“Your bridge, Admiral,” said Captain Oldenburg, leading him into the large chamber, which had scores of stations, half of them manned at the time.
Lenkowski waved the men and women back into their seats as soon as they jumped to their feet. He would take the time to meet with them later, once they started on their way. Now, he wanted to see what he had and what he needed to do.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike Page 7
