Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike

by Doug Dandridge

  “Well, what did you find? Don’t keep the rest of us in suspense.”

  “Just that there was no reason for any of these people to disappear. And that maybe one or two of them going missing might make sense, coincidence and all. But all of them. No way.”

  “A wonderful example of deductive reasoning,” said the Captain with a sneer, evoking laughter from the other men and women. The Captain turned back to the holo for a moment, then looked back out over the room. “I want all of you people to hit the streets. To ask every one of these people’s neighbors if they know anything. Anything at all, no matter how silly. I want to get whoever it is that’s doing this to these people. Now get to it.”

  And I need to let Intelligence know what’s going on here, so they can also, ‘get to it’.

  * * *

  DECEMBER 7TH, 1001.

  Cornelius was not really sure what was going on, only that he had been ordered to report to one of the rooms of the palace, someplace he had never been before. Devera and Rebecca had tried to hide smiles when he told them, but would not tell him what they thought was going on. Now he was walking down the corridor, the brand new gold bars of a second lieutenant on the collar of his dress uniform, beret under a shoulder flap, as it was supposed to be while indoors. Every military member, of every service, that he saw gave him a salute first, even the higher ranking officers. The ribbon with diamond stars on his left breast pocket was the reason they so honored him. The Imperial Medal of Heroism, the highest award that anyone in the Empire could be awarded, military or civilian. The diamonds indicated that he had won the award twice, a rare achievement, as the act of heroism to win any single medal was usually enough to kill the one so honored. He had been told in no uncertain terms not to wear the medal itself, and the ribbon that went around his neck, what he would normally have worn with his dress blues. That was also an unusual enough request to raise an eyebrow.

  I hope it’s not another damned medal, thought the Ranger, already feeling uncomfortable enough with the two. If it is one, please, dear God, let it be a lesser award.

  Two Marines in ceremonial red rendered a rifle salute as he approached the door to the chamber. An Army Colonel saluted as well, then stopped Cornelius to give his uniform a once over, making sure everything was in place. “Perfect,” said the Colonel, after inspecting the Ranger’s uniform. “Now do us proud, Ranger.”

  I wish I knew what I was doing us proud about, he thought as one of the Marines opened a large wooden door and gestured for him to walk in.

  Cornelius almost stopped in shock as he saw that room. Only because he was already moving did he continue. The room was filled with people, civilian and military. The military people were all field grade and above, with a preponderance of flag officers, Generals and Admirals. Cornelius recognized some cabinet ministers, and a couple score men and women wearing the clothing of nobles. Almost all of them were wearing a decorative plate on their upper chests, suspended from a platinum chain around their necks. Cornelius thought the decoration looked familiar, but he could not recall what it was.

  A red carpet stretched ahead, leading up to a low set of stairs that led to a raised dais. Sean, in his Commander in Chief’s uniform, eight stars on his shoulder boards, stood there, Jennifer by his side in a blue dress that set off her red hair perfectly. A man stood near Sean, a Brigadier with the same decoration hanging from around his neck, a long sword sitting on a pillow he held in both hands.

  “Cornelius Walborski,” said Sean in a strong voice. “Come forward to be recognized.”

  Cornelius swallowed, then marched forward with a straight back and leveled shoulders. He caught sight of his wife and adopted daughter out of the corner of his eye. Both had wide smiles on their faces, Rebecca holding both of her hands to her chest. The Ranger walked up the steps, afraid that he was going to fall flat on his face because of the ceremonial sword at his side, something he was not used to wearing.

  “Kneel,” ordered Sean, and a voice on his implant told Walborski to kneel on the cushion just in front of the Monarch.

  Oh shit, thought Cornelius, understanding dawning. They can’t be serious.

  “We are here today to welcome a brave man to our ranks,” said Sean, reaching for the sword on the cushion, then holding it up into the air. “One who has shown his total devotion to the Empire, through his deeds, in defense of all we hold dear. He has proven his worth before, as can be seen by the double award he wears on his breast. He deserves another such. Instead, we have decided upon another honor.”

  Sean looked into Cornelius’ eyes, a smile on his face that was soon replaced by the stern look that the ceremony called for. “All knights are nobles. The very act of being made a knight enobles the blood of the recipient. But not all nobles are knights. Only those found worthy by deed are inducted into our ranks. You, Cornelius Walborski, have been found such, and it is my pleasure to make you one of us.”

  The Emperor placed the blade of the sword on Cornelius’ left shoulder and let it rest there for a moment. He raised the sword over the head of the Ranger, then placed it on Cornelius’s right shoulder. “I name you a Knight of the Empire, with all the rights, privileges and responsibilities of that title.”

  Sean looked Cornelius in the eyes, and the Ranger could see the heartfelt love and respect the man had for him. “Arise, Sir Cornelius, Knight of the Empire.”

  Cornelius got slowly to his feet, still shocked at what had just happened. Physically, he didn’t feel any different. But he knew that now he was thought of in a different way by the people in this room.

  Sean placed the sword back on the pillow and accepted one of the pieces of metal from Jennifer, who also gave Sean a wide smile. Sean motioned for the Ranger to bow his head, then placed the chain and the decoration around Cornelius’ neck. “Take your place with your brothers and sisters, Sir Cornelius,” he told the Ranger, offering his hand for a shake.

  Cornelius’ implant signaled him to walk back down the steps and to the side, to a place between a couple of other officers with the knight symbol hanging from their necks. As soon as he had taken his place, another man entered the room and walked to the front. This one was also wearing an Imperial Army uniform, the symbol of Heavy Infantry on his collar. The twin stars of a Major General were prominent on his shoulder boards.

  I know him, thought Cornelius, looking closely at the familiar face, which seemed much the worse for wear, especially the eyes. Baggett. From Sestius. But he was only a colonel then. And now he looks like he’s been through hell.

  Sean repeated the ceremony with the General, adding another member to the knighthood. After he was through with Baggett, Sean knighted one more man and a pair of women, two of them Fleet, one a Marine.

  “Refreshments await in the Platinum Room,” said Sean after the last new member had joined the ranks. “Welcome our brothers and sisters into our fellowship. And to our new members, tonight there is no rank, only the companionship of equals.”

  Rebecca ran up to Cornelius after the Emperor left the dais, her face alight with happiness. “Does this make Devera a lady?” she asked breathlessly.

  “She was already a lady,” said Cornelius, pulling his wife into a hug. “But now she gets the title.”

  “It is so good to see you, Sir Cornelius,” said Jennifer, walking up to them, putting a hand on Rebecca’s head. “And so good to see you with a family.”

  “Thank you, your Grace,” he told the woman, snagging a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing tray, handing them to the two women, then grabbing another for himself. “I think you honor me too much.”

  “You deserve all that Sean has granted, Sir Cornelius,” Jennifer said with a head shake. “If not for you, we might be looking at the swift conclusion of this war. And not a conclusion that we would like.”

  Cornelius felt himself blushing from the compliments.

  “Enjoy them while you can get them, honey,” said Devera with a laugh. “God knows, when you become a General som
eday, they’ll be screaming for your head.”

  Jennifer laughed, a musical sound that turned heads their way. “She may have something there. But now, I have a message from Sean. Enjoy the party, but afterwards, he wants to have a word with you.”

  Cornelius did enjoy the party, rubbing elbows with people who were so far above him in the rank structure that he had trouble seeing them in the great distance between them. All seemed generally welcoming, though he was also sure that all would send him to his death in a heartbeat if the Empire needed them to. Not that he held that against them, as he might have to do the same with people under his command.

  He was led to Sean when he asked one of the staff where he was. Sean was seated behind a desk, looking over several holos, including one that showed the extent of the enemy incursions into the Empire. He was on his feet as soon as the Ranger entered, holding out his hand. “I want to give you a personal handshake, my friend. And a personal thank you for saving our asses.”

  “Just doing my job, your Majesty. It seemed like something that needed doing, and I was there.”

  “Sometimes I wish someone like you were sitting on the throne, while I was out commanding a destroyer.” Sean shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. “Unfortunately, the job is mine.”

  “I’m just good at breaking things, your Majesty,” said Cornelius, taking the offered chair and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Very good at breaking things,” said Sean with a laugh. “I have to make sure you get more and better tools for breaking things in the future.” Sean looked down for a moment, then over at the holo, before returning his gaze to Walborski. “You’re going into Preacher’s command. Not sure where yet, since he controls the entirety of Sector IV’s special ops. But he requested you, personally. Not that I had any doubt that you would be going to the prime sector of battle.”

  “I am honored that the General asked for me, your Majesty.”

  “But that can wait until after my wedding,” said Sean with a smile. “After all, I had the honor of attending yours, and I wouldn’t want you to miss out on mine. And, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it, your Majesty.”

  “I would like you to be my Best Man at the ceremony.”

  “Are you sure, your Majesty?” asked Cornelius in surprise. “Surely you have more senior people to give that honor to.”

  “Well,” said the Emperor with a twinkle in his eye. “None of them have your talent for breaking things. And that kind of ability must be cherished and nurtured.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  If you are going to sin, sin against God, not the bureaucracy. God will forgive you but the bureaucracy won't.

  Hyman Rickover

  OUTSIDE CONUNDRUM SYSTEM. DECEMBER 9TH, 1001.

  Doctor Ivan Smirnov stood on the observation deck of the Ca’cadasan supercruiser and watched as the ship opened a hole from normal space into hyper I. The ship was one of four of the four million ton vessels, along with their escort of eight scout ships. I’m glad they feel we’re important enough for a strong force, he thought, looking over at his wife and children as they sat anxiously watching the big aliens who took up much of the chamber. Ostensibly those big males were there to guard them, though he was sure they would also kill him, and his family, on orders from above, without the slightest compunction.

  At least we’re safe, for now, thought the New Muscovite scientist. And we’ll remain safe, as long as I deliver on my promise.

  That he could deliver he had no doubt, as long as the aliens followed his directions. It might take a year or two, but they would have wormholes, at least enough for command and control, and moving some ships from points across long distances. And maybe I can get some more humans off the targeting reticle, he thought, shaking his head at the stubbornness of his species. They have to know they can’t win this thing. The Ca’cadasan Empire is just too damned big. All they’re doing is delaying the inevitable.

  He looked once again at the holo of the space around them that was displayed in the chamber, hoping that he saw nothing that looked like an Imperial ship. If they catch us, we’re dead, he thought, looking over at his wife, who returned a resentful stare. I couldn’t let that happen, dear, and someday I hope you’ll get over it.

  She had let him know that she did not like the idea of his turning traitor, of betraying his own species. She couldn’t seem to take the realistic view, wanting to resist, even if it cost her life and that of her children. Well, I can’t allow us to die. Not if I have the means of keeping us alive.

  “Is everything OK, Dr. Smirnov?” asked one of the humans who had grown up around the Ca’cadasans, proof to the scientist that the big aliens didn’t mean to exterminate the species after all. Why would they keep humans around if that was their intention? No, they meant to conquer humanity and add them to their own Empire, not the best outcome for the human race. And far from the worst, truth be told.

  * * *

  “We’re picking up alien ships moving along in hyper VII,” said Lt. SG Lasardo, the Tactical Officer of the James Komorov. “At the extreme range of our sensors, and coming this way.”

  “Identification?” asked Captain Maurice von Rittersdorf, the commander of the hyper VII destroyer.

  “Looks to be a quartet of their supercruisers, along with six, no, eight, scouts.”

  The Captain looked at the tactical holo that showed the enemy ships, in hyper VII and accelerating at five hundred gravities, up to point seven light relative to the dimension. He knew that according to Caca doctrine the aliens would get up to point nine five light, using their superior shields to ward off radiation, and nothing the Empire had would be able to catch them.

  Calling up a holo of that area, von Rittersdorf noted that he had three missiles stationed very near to where those ships would pass. Almost directly in their path, which veered just a bit from the course that most Caca ships took to leave the Empire. It’s got to be important, whatever they are carrying. The number of ships. The heading, out of the Empire, maybe, unless they’re on their way to that little corner of the Sector. Smart money would bet they are carrying something they don’t want us to intercept. But what? And does it really matter, as long as it’s important to them?

  “When do we need to send a subspace signal to those missiles to achieve an intercept?” he asked Lasardo, walking over to the tactical station.

  “Within the next ten minutes, forty seconds,” said the officer, doing the calculations quickly on his board.

  Subspace signals traveled twelve times faster than light, going through their own dimension that was a twelve to one correspondence with real space. The Cacas were traveling in hyper VII at point seven c, giving them a pseudospeed of twenty-eight thousand times the speed of light. If Komorov were not well ahead of them in space it would already be too late to send the command. And if the missiles translated into hyper VII after the aliens had passed them, they would never catch up before they ran out of power and translated back into normal space, in the form of particles.

  “Send the signal,” ordered the Captain, looking over the holo one more time. “We may not get more than one of them, even if we’re lucky. But the one we get may be the one we need to get.”

  The Captain took a few steps over to the com station, to stand behind that officer. “Connect me with the Commodore. I think he needs to know about this.”

  * * *

  “I understand, Captain,” Commodore Edward Lacy, the Admiral’s fill in while she was on a short leave for the wedding, told the young man on the wormhole com. I see higher rank in your future von Rittersdorf, he thought. He had approved of the Captain’s actions at launching some of his weapons at the Cacas. “I don’t see what else we can do at this moment. Most of our assets are spread as a net between Conundrum and the inner sector, or the pathway back to Caca space. Anything I cut loose to send after them will never catch them.”

  “You could send my force, Commodore,” said von Rittersdorf, his anxiety pla
in on his face.

  Not a very good choice if you want to live out the war, thought the Commodore, smiling at the young man. But I appreciate the offer. There was no way von Rittersdorf and the six destroyers in his force could take on that many Cacas vessels and survive, even if by chance they could catch them. The odds of them even getting through the scouts to the supercruisers were nothing short of astronomical. The only reason the missiles launched ahead of the Cacas had a chance was because they would seem to come out of nowhere, right into the paths of the enemy ships. Now if you were in a better placement, he thought, looking at the holo. You could empty your magazines into them before they could react. But you are not in the proper placement.

  “No, Captain,” he told the courageous officer. “I don’t see any reason to just throw you and your crews away on such a forlorn hope. We’ll let the Admiralty know what we saw, and if they want to try and do anything about it, they can.”

  “Yes, sir,” said von Rittersdorf, the relief clear on his face. “We’ll keep tracking them as long as we can, in case they happen to change their course within our sensor envelope. Any other orders, sir?”

  “I think it might be a good idea to put some more missiles on that path, in case they try something like this again.” Because it looks like they are reacting to the losses of so many of their couriers by trying something new. Though, with a force that size, I wouldn’t think they would have a problem running the Slot back to their homeland, he thought, using the term they had come up with for the area outside the border of Sector IV space, lying between the New Terran Republic and the Kingdom of New Moscow. It was a term that had been used in the South Pacific in World War II, when the Japanese had run ships through a sea lane between several islands.