Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike

by Doug Dandridge

  If the damned shifters know we have new ways of detecting them, they will go to ground, and avoid penetration of secret facilities. They will attack us where they can, more assassinations and bombings, only the targets will be those we can’t properly defend.

  After another hour the press conference was over, and Sean couldn’t wait to get back to the front, where he didn’t have to deal with such things. Most of the questions had dealt with the military situation, and the recently concluded Battle of Congreeve. Sean was happy to answer those questions, as one of the reasons for that battle was to raise the morale of the Empire, and what he had told them could only bring hope. And hopefully, Bagration will raise it more.

  “Those are all the questions we have time to answer,” said one of the Emperor’s Press People. “We have data chips for all of you that you might find interesting.”

  Sean was on his feet in an instant, leading Jennifer away from the stand and toward the exit from the chamber, his armed guards and entourage forming up around him. Lucille Yu walked with him, filling him in on the state of the station, and all of the new construction going on in the local space. Sean was careful to not give her any information she was not privy to already, since there were many things going on that she did not have a need to know.

  The Emperor looked with approval on all the military personnel he saw on the way to the tram, then on to the next gate room. Most of the soldiers, Marines and spacers were in soft uniforms, though all were at least carrying side arms. Every single one of them, all looking very alert so soon after the attack on the station. One in every four soldiers, and half of the Marines, were wearing battle armor, and were heavily armed. There were also many more than he remembered from his last trip, and linking into the station computer, he was gratified to see that the military presence had doubled since the attack, and that more were scheduled to be assigned.

  The next gate took them directly to the portal at the Hexagon, the closest one to the palace, and one of two that had now been installed in the capital city. Sean decided he really didn’t want to have to deal with the public any more this day, so he and his party took the lift into the depths of the building, kilometers down, into the hidden, secret rooms of the structure. From there they took the private train to the palace, itself debarking into the Imperial refuge far beneath the main building on the grounds.

  “I am so happy to be home,” said Jennifer as they finally reached the private quarters of the Emperor and his family, which at the moment consisted of a couple score cousins and Sean’s soon to be wife.

  “We have a dinner scheduled with Samantha, the Prime Minister and some of my cabinet,” said Sean, linking into the palace computer. “Are you up to it?”

  “Not really,” said Jennifer, her expression one of extreme fatigue. “Can I skip out.”

  “Of course,” agreed Sean, sitting down next to her on the bed and putting an arm around her. He kissed her tenderly, then forced himself to get up from the bed. “I need to get ready. I’ll be back soon. And I‘ve scheduled a special ceremony for tomorrow. One I don’t think you’ll want to miss.”

  “We’ll see when tomorrow comes,” she said, walking toward the master bath. “I’m going to relax, then catch some sleep. Wake me when you get back here, and I’ll have a special ceremony for you as well.”

  Dinner was in the Gold Room, a formal dining chamber used for occasions of state. Only one of the thirty tables in the room was occupied, though it was seated to capacity with all the members of the Cabinet, the chiefs of the military, the Prime Minister, and, of course, the Regent. Only a few security personnel were in the room, their eyes constantly roaming, even in this supremely secure location.

  “Jennifer will be staying here after the wedding,” said Sean, looking at Samantha. “She says she has had enough of going into combat.”

  “Smart girl,” said Samantha. “So, she will be Empress after the ceremony. And I can leave this job.”

  “Sorry,” said Sean, after taking a sip from his wine glass. “Jennifer really doesn’t have any experience with government, and she has no idea how to deal with some of the snakes we are inflicted with. I will depend on you and Haruko,” he gestured at the Prime Minister, “to teach her the ropes.”

  “That could take some time,” said the Prime Minister, frowning, then taking a sip of the vintage reserved for the imperial line.

  “Then take the time. I really don’t expect for her to become a master manipulator. She doesn’t have the upbringing to become one of us. Or, to put it frankly, the heart.”

  “Then, perhaps your Majesty should consider marrying someone who has been raised for the role,” said Lord Halbrook, the Minister of the Exchequer.

  “I love this woman, my Lord,” said Sean, glaring at the man. He means well, and has turned out to be a better ally than I thought. But dammit, this is my decision.

  “Then keep her as your mistress,” said Lord Garis, the Minister of State. “It’s been done before, and no one will even care.”

  “No one except me and Jennifer,” said Sean, resisting the urge to smash his glass on the table top. “And we’re the only ones who count in this matter.”

  “Only a suggestion, your Majesty,” said Garis, holding up a hand. “I meant no offense, as I am sure Halbrook did not.”

  And we will be hearing more and more of this in the time leading up to the wedding, thought Sean, making the decision to hurry the process up to reduce the complaining to a dull roar. After all, once it’s a fait accompli, the naysayers will be drowned out by those who will want to wish us great happiness.

  “I want the wedding scheduled for Saturday,” said Sean, looking over at his Regent. “Get your people on it.”

  “That only gives me five days,” said Samantha with a frown.

  “Any reason it can’t be done?”

  “No, Sean. It will inconvenience some people, and some others may have their feelings hurt when they can’t get here in time. But getting it done is not a problem.”

  “Good. And I want Cornelius here, by tomorrow. I have something in mind for that boy.”

  “He’s already here, with his family,” said Samantha. “We extended his pass, since a good portion of it was spent dealing with the enemies of the Empire.”

  “I figured we could let him finish up his training with the class that started just after his,” said Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, the Army Chief of Staff. “It only seems fair, especially since you already expressed your wishes for him to be at the wedding.”

  “He’s finished with his class,” said Sean, looking into the eyes of the head of his army. “As of right now, he is officially a second lieutenant.”

  “That’s quite irregular, your Majesty,” protested the Grand Marshal. “There may be rumors of favoritism that follow him around through his career.”

  “I know all about that, Mishori,” said Sean, nodding. “After all, it was something I had to deal with when I was at the Academy. But in his case he earned it. I looked over the after action report. He led a combined force of Army and Fleet personnel into an assault that took one of those big bombs away from the enemy. And then was instrumental in getting the device off the station. I would say the young hero passed his leadership exam with flying colors. So he’s a second lieutenant as of now, date of rank to be the day he stepped out of the wormhole on that station and into battle.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the Grand Marshal with a smile. “How can I argue with that. And where would you like us to station him? After the wedding is over, of course.”

  “Preacher asked for him,” said Sean, thinking back to his conversation with Major General Walther Jodel, the man now in charge of all Special Ops forces in Sector IV. “I’m sure he can come up with something for the young man to do.”

  “The Cacas are going to hate you, your Majesty,” said the Grand Marshal with a laugh. “Preacher and Walborski. They might surrender immediately.”

  The dinner was productive, Sean being able to ge
t his wishes across to all those present. While not giving many orders, his suggestions would carry almost as much weight. It waited until the end of the after dinner conference before the question came up he had been sure was coming.

  “Do you still intend to lead from the front, your Majesty?” asked Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom, the Chief of Naval Operations. Everyone at the table leaned forward, waiting for his answer.

  “It would make all of us feel much better if you ruled from the capital,” said Field Marshal Betty Parker, the Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps. “The Empire needs your leadership, and cannot afford to lose you at this time.”

  All the heads at the table nodded in agreement with what the Field Marshal had said. Sean looked around the table, knowing that these people, the ones he depended on to keep things running smoothly, were not going to like what he had to say. Well, tough. This is why I get to wear the crown, so I can make these decisions. He thought for a moment before giving them his answer.

  “I had one of the dreams,” he said, seeing the interest increase in all of their eyes. “Yes, you all know what kind of dreams we have in my family. And I seem to be one of the most powerful with the curse that some call a gift in generations.”

  “And what did you see in the dream, Sean?” said Samantha, who as an Imperial Cousin was well versed in the lore of the gift.

  “I saw myself, much older, and worn by long decades of war, walking the bridge of a warship like no one would believe. Looking down on the home world of the Cacas. We had won.”

  “That’s wonderful,” said the Prime Minister, clapping her hands.

  “And what does that have to do with you going back to the front?” asked Lord Garis.

  “You have to be leading the Fleet,” said Samantha, immediately understanding the import of the dream. “If you are not in the lead, it will not come to pass.”

  “Yes,” Sean said with a cold smile.

  “But, the dreams don’t always come true, do they?” asked Garis, looking uncomfortable about the whole subject of prophecy.

  “No,” said Sean, shaking his head. “They don’t. But if I don’t play the part shown me, they definitely won’t.” He didn’t tell them about the other part of the dream, the feeling of loss he experienced when thinking of Jennifer. That could be decades in the future as well. And what the hell am I supposed to do? Sacrifice the entire human species for just one person, no matter how important to me.

  “You could still get killed before any of this comes to pass,” said McCullom, raising an eyebrow.

  “All kinds of things could happen,” said Sean, nodding. “Still, I intend to lead from the front, and pray that the dream comes to pass. And I will listen to no arguments to the contrary.”

  It was very late before Sean could pull himself away from the conference and seek his bed. Jennifer seemed to be sound asleep when he curled up next to her. A moment later she had turned to face him and had her arms around his neck.

  “Are you tuckered out after your long meeting,” she said after kissing him.

  “I’m not that tired,” he said with a laugh, his hands roaming over her smooth skin under the sheets.

  “Good,” she said, her smile growing. “Because I’m fertile tonight, the nanites have been sent to bed, and I think it’s time to make you an heir.”

  * * *

  The Yugalyth, who considered himself the Prime of the spy ring the Knockermen had set up in the Supersystem, stared at the holo as it put more nourishment into its now oversized eating orifice. The holo was currently showing a replay of a news show that one of its human operatives had recorded when it had first aired live, just before it had been yanked by the Imperial authorities.

  And it was lucky that the stupid human reporter asked the question, it thought, taking a large swallow of the meat it was using to feed its metamorphosis. Otherwise, we would never have known, and I would have lost more agents in trying to penetrate their heavily guarded installations.

  “We have the reporter here, sir,” said the voice of one of his human operatives over the intercom.

  The Yugalyth looked up from the holo, taking stock of the large room it occupied. Fourteen subunits were growing from its body in a radial pattern, each now a small copy of a nondescript human, though the skin was pure Yugalyth. When they reached full sized, they would be ordered to find, kill, and imitate a particular human. At that point they would have been assigned penetration missions. Not anymore. Now they would be used purely for terror, in areas that were unguarded.

  The door to the large room opened and the woman was shoved in. She stood there for a moment, looking confused, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. She saw the creature looming from the shadows, and hissed in a breath of shock. Even in a culture that dealt with many different alien forms, the Yugalyth was shocking to look at. It hadn’t completed its metamorphosis yet, but would soon be a queen of its kind, its only task to make clones of its genetic material, to produce as many of its kind as possible in the shortest time. Now it looked like a huge lump of flesh sitting on the floor, only its head and arms actually appearing human. Almost. The head was too large, the mouth too wide, and full of an alarming array of teeth. One of the large hands held a piece of meat that look very much like a human leg, and the sharp teeth took another large hunk out of the thigh area.

  “You are the woman who asked the Emperor the question about detecting my kind?” asked the Yugalyth through another orifice that had formed on its chest.

  “I, am,” stammered the woman, her eyes wide with shock. “And you are one of them?”

  “I am,” said the creature in its deep voice.

  “And you are allied with the Ca’cadasans?” asked the reporter, her voice shaking.

  “We are not allied with those creatures. We are allies with those in the region who see your ascendance as an error that will cost us all. An error that must be corrected.”

  “Then why are you helping them?”

  “Because they are against you,” growled the creature. “But I did not bring you here to answer your questions, but for you to answer mine. Where did you hear about these new tests to find my kind?”

  “I have a source in the government,” said the reporter.

  “I know you have a source, human. What I want to know is, who is it?”

  “I cannot divulge that information.”

  “You think you have rights here,” laughed the Yugalyth, while its upper mouth tore another chunk out of the leg it was devouring, adding to its biomass for the production of its kind. “I will kill you when I will, and no one will ever know what happened to you. Now, give me the information I want.”

  The woman shook her head, tears in her eyes, fear shutting her down. The Yugalyth reached forward with its other arm and grabbed the reporter around the neck, lifting her toward it while it dropped the half eaten leg to the floor. The woman rose up to its eating orifice, and the teeth clamped down on one of her thighs and tore out a bite.

  “Please,” screamed the woman. “Don’t kill me.”

  “Give me the information I want, and your pain will end.”

  She stammered a name and a position, enough for the Prime to have his agents locate the person. The great thing about humans is that they will sell out their own for enough money, it thought, staring into the eyes of the terrified woman. And if money doesn’t work, terror will.

  “Please,” she stammered again. “It hurts.”

  “Then we will end your pain,” said the creature, pulling her close again. The Yugalyth did not consider itself a cruel creature. It only did as it must to complete its mission. And part of its mission now was to get enough biomass into its system to spawn more of its kind.

  The Yugalyth pulled the woman to its eating orifice and pushed her head in. A swift bite and it decapitated the woman, then chewed a few times to completely pulp the skull, tearing apart the nutrient rich brain. The woman felt nothing after that first bite.

  “I need more food,” he to
ld one of his fellow Yugalyth over the com. “And I want this person brought here before me. I must know what measures they are about to take against us.”

  * * *

  “At least two dozen people have been reported missing within this circle in the past week,” said the briefing officer, getting the undivided attention of all the detectives in the room.

  Capital Police Lieutenant Ishuhi Rykio sat there with them, looking at the ten kilometer wide circle where all the disappearances had occurred. While it was not unusual for people to come up missing in the city of over two point three billion, that many in one small area was something to raise concerns. I wonder if the shifters have anything to do with it, thought the former Naval commando turned detective, who was also now working for Naval Intelligence undercover.

  Rykio had been instrumental in breaking up one ring of the Yugalyth, those responsible for the murder of two Prime Ministers, and maybe having a hand in the assassination of the last Emperor. And everyone thought the threat was over when we took those bastards down. I thought not, but everyone had victory disease, and preferred to think that we had gotten rid of the problem.

  The Detective called up information on the victims on his implant while the briefing officer, a captain, continued to speak. Again, there were always disappearances in a city this large. Mostly people who just wanted to leave a family, or get away from people they owed money to, which included the organized crime of the city. There were plenty of murders as well. Not anything like what had occurred in pre-space society, maybe a couple of hundred a day in the largest city of the Empire by an order of magnitude. The society allowed people to carry weapons for self-defense, and by the laws of Jewel all such weapons alerted the police when they were used. But no such signals had been received in any of these disappearances, save one.

  And they’re all pretty nondescript people, he thought. No master criminals, no people that might have pissed someone off. Just ordinary people.

  “Are we boring you, Ishuhi?” barked the Captain.

  “Not at all, sir,” said the Detective, swallowing his retort. His Fleet rank was commander, far loftier than that of the captain who led a homicide precinct. But I can’t let him know that, thought the Detective, who used his position on the police force to keep Naval Intelligence abreast of any problems they were having in the city.