Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike

by Doug Dandridge

  Chan expanded the holo, zooming out, until the icon of the Donut, and all of the myriad of ships and stations in orbit around the black hole, filled it. From Central Docks she would be taking a passenger gate back to the Donut, cutting five hours off of the route heading straight from here to the station on her shuttle. They could also head to one of the forts, and jump to the station, but that portal was actually much further from her connection than the one coming from Central Docks.

  Amazing, she thought, trying to wrap her mind around the new reality of galactic travel. I actually travel eighty light hours out of my way to save twenty minutes of transit time. Our ancestors would think we had lost it if we mentioned such a thing. But this was the new reality, at least for the humans and their allies. And, hopefully, never for the enemy.

  * * *

  “Your Empire has won a great battle against the invaders,” said Klorasof, one of the Ancients that Xavier Jackson was familiar with, its red and gold striping distinctive. “And even more significantly, they are forging a mighty alliance with the other peoples of this sector.”

  “Then you think they are going to win this thing?” asked Commander Xavier Jackson, the guest of the legendary Ancients since they had rescued him from space.

  “It is too early to tell,” said the creature, waving its six arms in the air in a complicated dance of communication that the human still had trouble reading. It moved across the room on its belly cilia, reaching an arm for a drinking container. “The enemy you fight is strong, and stubborn. The odds of your people winning are less than thirty percent, according to our best estimate.”

  “And you can change those odds,” said Jackson, launching into the same argument he had tried so many times with these creatures.

  “We can fight one battle,” said the Ancient, its mouth wrinkling up in distaste at the last word. “After that, we are no longer a factor in the Galaxy.”

  The aliens had explained to Jackson, many times, that the Baby Universes they used for power could not be replenished without a generating facility like the station the humans had around the black hole. Once they were empty, the creatures would have to depend on fusion, or matter antimatter, both much too feeble for their needs.

  “Then fight that battle and help us to win. And maybe my people can charge up some more of those bottles for you.”

  “Eventually,” said the alien, an expression on its mouth which Jackson had come to associate with wistfulness. “Eventually. But not now.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The power to wage war is the power to wage war successfully.

  Charles Evans Hughes

  CONUNDRUM SYSTEM. DECEMBER 12TH, 1001.

  “Something’s happening, sir,” called out Ngovic from his tactical station.

  “What do you have, Tactical?” asked Suttler, moving up behind the junior officer’s chair.

  “Over four hundred enemy ships, heading away from the fleet,” said Ngovic, pointing to the movement on the holo over his board, tracked by their graviton emissions. “Accelerating away as one force for the moment.”

  “Shit,” said Suttler, staring at the holo. “This really isn’t what command wanted.” And we depended too much on the enemy doing just what we want. The most basic of military axioms. The enemy never does what you want them to.

  They watched the holo in silence for some minutes, Suttler looking over at the Com Officer at one point to make sure the data was going out.

  “We’re getting some separation in the groups,” said Ngovic, his finger pointing to the body that was showing some gaps in two places. “Looks like three equal groups, all moving to jump on different courses.”

  Maybe they’ll be back in time to catch some of our gifts, thought Suttler, thinking of the four hundred missiles they had sent accelerating at a leisurely twenty gravities toward the system. At their small size, the distance, and the low graviton load, they would be completely undetectable by the enemy on the way in. They would cut acceleration at point two light, and coast the rest of the way, making minor course corrections to bring them to their targets and their final runs.

  Right now, that attack was no longer the priority. That had been overtaken by what looked like three strong enemy raiding parties heading out to cause damage to the Empire’s industrial base.

  A moment later all of the enemy ships had jumped to hyper I, and their courses had diverged from each other even further.

  * * *

  “Shit,” cursed Admiral Mara Montgomery, watching the plot that was being relayed from one of her scout squadrons. She really couldn’t think of anything else to say, and that one word seemed to be most appropriate to this situation.

  Three goddamn raider forces, all heading for different targets, and we won’t be able to track them once they get past the pickets. Not without our ships giving themselves away, which will probably lead to the enemy destroying them.

  The problem was all of her ships were on picket duty, tracking the comings and goings of the enemy. They were able to do that without giving themselves away, since they were sitting in normal space. If they were to pursue the enemy, they would have to jump into hyper, giving away their positions, and then try to either catch the enemy, or guess where they were going and get there first. Either way, if the enemy didn’t want to be tracked, they could break off a smaller force from their raiding parties to pursue and destroy their trackers. Or she could try to move other scouts into position by guesswork, never the best of solutions, but maybe the only one she had.

  No, I’m going to have to order some of my pickets to pursue. Not really fair to those crews, but necessary. And just who are going to be the lucky bastards that get chosen for that mission?

  Montgomery looked over the holo that showed the disposition of her forces and picked out the two task forces that were closest to the enemy’s courses. That’s their job, she thought of the two task force commanders. Not really fair of me to put this on them, but it is their job to choose the ships they want to pursue. Or am I just coward enough to give them that responsibility?

  Most of the people in Sector IV would have looked at Mara Montgomery in disbelief if they had heard those thoughts. She was counted as one of the most audacious scout commanders in the Fleet. Of course, it was easier putting herself and her ship in danger, than ordering others to do it for her. She had done just that in the past. A good example of that was when she had ordered ships into danger to cover her own while the Emperor was aboard. She hadn’t liked it then, and she still didn’t.

  “Get me Commodore Lacy on the com,” she told her Com Officer, dreading the need to give the order. But this was one she couldn’t duck.

  * * *

  “Well, shit,” growled Commodore Edward Lacy after the com terminated. Shit really does roll downhill. He hated the order. He especially hated the part of the order that said he was not to take himself and his ship on the pursuit. So I get to tell off some of my subordinates to go on what could very well be a suicide mission. And I don’t have any time to waste.

  The Commodore looked over his dispositions and made a quick decision. He needed at least two ships with wormhole coms, and preferred at least one battle cruiser. He looked over his possibilities and made his choices, five ships to form a pursuit force. And now for the hard part, he thought, ordering the com officer to connect him to those officers, through the wormhole where one was available, relayed through a wormhole com equipped ship where not. All the time wishing that the Admiral was back from her leave to make these decisions.

  * * *

  “Captain Yurik will be in command of the squadron,” the Commodore told von Rittersdorf over the com. “Lisboa is the largest ship of the force,” he continued, naming the hyper VII battle cruiser. “She also has a wormhole launch system, so will carry the most firepower. Captain Yurik has been given instructions to use his ship as the contact vessel, while yours will be tail end Charlie, so we have a guarantee of a com link.”

  Maurice felt relief at those ord
ers, and shame on top of the relief. His ship would be outside of the sensors of the enemy. The chances of his ship coming back had increased exponentially. That was not true for the battle cruiser, the light cruiser or the two other destroyers tasked with this mission.

  “I understand, Commodore,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

  “We need for all of you to grab the enemy and hold on. We have to know what their target is. If you can keep them under observation, even halfway to their target, we can probably get ships in front of them. Good luck, Captain.”

  The holo went blank, and a moment later the Captain of the Lisboa was on the com. “We’ll meet here, von Rittersdorf,” ordered the senior captain, as a map came up on a second holo that showed the rendezvous point for all the ships. “Right now I plan to stick to them on their port flank. But we’ll have to play it by ear the whole way. Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” said von Rittersdorf, looking at the proposed meeting point and finding no fault with it, or the strategy. Other than it would be nice to have a dozen battleship squadrons with us.

  “Then we’ll see you there. Make sure your ship stays out of Caca sensor range. Yurik out.”

  And that’s one order I will be glad to obey, thought the junior Captain, ordering his helm to put them on a course toward the meeting point.

  * * *

  SECTOR IV SPACE.

  “We have some more information to feed your bosses,” said Sonia Rupert, trying not to stare at the orange striped creature standing before her. This was her tenth meeting with the creature, a Maurid, ostensibly a client species of the Cacas. But not as subservient or reliable as the damned big aliens think. The Maurid still intimidated her, despite being genetically augmented herself. The way the creature moved, the way the muscles slid into place under the fur, the razor sharp claws and teeth, all bespoke the deadliness of the creature.

  She handed over the data chip and waited as the operative put it in a reader and scanned its contents. “Smart of you,” said the Maurid who had been asked to be called just that, the Maurid. “It might arouse their suspicions to receive information that the station was destroyed. Two years, huh. That should help them to regain some of their arrogance.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping, at least,” said Sonia, nodding, then wondering if the creature even knew what the gesture meant. She’s a damned spy, so she must know.

  “And what have you got for me?”

  “A real gem,” said the creature with a toothy smile. “I’m not sure you’re going to like it, but as far as I can tell, it’s genuine.”

  The Maurid passed over a chip similar to the one she had just given the creature, the kind of nondescript memory that was used in millions of different machines. Only this one would dissolve in human saliva. If she popped it in her mouth, it was gone in moments.

  Sonia placed the chip into a slot on the small reader she carried, looked over the screen, then sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this?”

  “As sure as we can be,” said the Maurid. “This really isn’t in our area, but one of our agents overheard some talk that shouldn’t have been going on in public. A quick search, a little hack, and there you have it.”

  “Shit. This is not good.”

  “I think the process the human is talking about is not on the same level as what you use. The Ca’cadasan Empire will always be behind you in that respect.”

  “Any advances they make in that direction are totally unwelcome,” said Rupert, scrolling down the info. “Any chance we might be able to intercept this human. It would be worth the loss of a battle group to keep him from getting to your Empire.”

  “Not my Empire, human. And no, he has left the Conundrum system by now, on a roundabout path back to the Empire. If you haven’t intercepted him by now, you won’t.

  “And we understand you are about to go on the offensive again,” said the Maurid after a moment’s hesitation.

  Rupert stiffened, not sure what to say. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”

  The Maurid laughed. “Quite understandable. Don’t worry. We have already developed this intelligence, and my spies think I have already sent it up the line. Which I will, of course, only not in its entirety.”

  Sonia nodded her head at that. The Maurid had to pass on some straight information, if only to keep her bosses satisfied that she was actually spying for them, and not instead working as a double agent.

  “The Great Admiral is expecting some reinforcements as well, both from the Republic, which you probably already know about, given those wonderful wormholes you use in such abundance. But also more from the Empire, which you will not know about for several more weeks, when they penetrate the Slot. You’ll find that on the chip as well, and a profile of the highest ranking officers of the conquest fleet. Maybe that will help you to kill more of the assholes.”

  “And some of your people as well?” asked Rupert. “Doesn’t that part bother you?”

  “Sacrifices must be made, if we are ever going to get out from under the subjugation of the Ca’cadasans. We would prefer that others make the sacrifices, but if some of us must die, so be it. If further generations are to gain their freedom, even if it’s within your Empire, it will be worth it.”

  “Thank you,” said Rupert with a head nod. The creature did not like being touched, as Sonia had learned at an earlier meeting. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “One other piece of information, that we learned from our friends, the Knockermen,” said the creature, her lips sneering as she said friends and Knockermen. “The shape shifters are in your capital, in force. They are planning to strike, to try and take out a head of government. During some kind of celebration.”

  The Imperial Wedding, thought the IIA agent in a panic. “I have to get this information to where it can do some good,” she told the Maurid, turning and starting to walk away. She looked back for a moment, and the creature was already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

  * * *

  SECTOR IV SPACE.

  “Dr. Tashiga disagrees with you,” said the Captain Walter Orendorf, the commander of the Gringo, looking at Dr. Southard over his glasses.

  And what the hell are you trying to do with those eye glasses? thought Southard, staring at the Captain. Nobody suffered from impaired eyesight, not for the last thousand years. The genes for those kind of defects had been removed from the gene pool. Only people trying to achieve some kind of fashion look wore them, and the scientist could think of no reason someone aboard a research ship would need to pursue such an affectation.

  “Dr. Tashiga is wrong,” said Southard, his voice rising, unable to believe this, officer, was unable to listen to reason. “Look. I am acknowledged as the foremost expert on supernovas in the Empire. Dr. Tashiga is not. That should settle the question, here and now.”

  “And Tashiga says your theories are out of date,” said the Captain, continuing to look directly at the scientist.

  And he had over a week to convince you that he was correct, and I was wrong. Is there anything I can say to change your mind?

  “What good does it do us to stay here, within the hyper barrier? After all, our remote platforms can gather all the data we need.”

  “Dr. Tashiga disagrees with you on that as well,” said Orendorf, pulling his glasses off and sticking one of the earpieces in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, then looked back up at Southard. “Tashiga believes we will get some better readings with the ship’s sensors. And the closer we are, the better.”

  “And that’s crap,” said Southard, slamming a hand down on the table.

  “Dr. Southard. I would thank you to refrain from these kinds of displays in my cabin.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the scientist. “It is just frustrating that you lend so much credence to that, man. And you will not listen to reason.”

  “So, Dr. Tashiga thinks we have two to three weeks before the star blows. And you think it will detonate in what? Five or six days. Tell yo
u what. I’ll compromise. Give Dr. Tashiga another eleven days, then we’ll move out beyond the hyper barrier. Will that be satisfactory.”

  “This isn’t politics, Captain,” said Southard, shaking his head. “Compromise will not change the facts. That star will enter silicon fusion in five to six days, iron will build up at the core, and the stellar furnace will die. Seconds after that the star will explode. And we will not be able to outrun the heat and radiation wave to the hyper barrier. By the time the particles of matter reach us, we will be gone. Well before that, really.”

  “You have my answer, Dr. Southard,” said the Captain, putting his glasses on the desk. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Then I request permission to leave this ship.”

  “I think not,” said the Captain, shaking his head, then putting his glasses back on. “You were assigned here under reserve officer activation, and here you will stay, until we receive orders to the contrary.”

  “Very well,” said Southard, turning and storming from the room. The idiot thinks this is some kind of game, that he is in charge. Just wait until fifty solar masses of star explodes in his face. Southard made his way back to his cabin, sitting down and logging into his personal terminal. I’ve still got some friends, he thought, sending a personal message through to one of the destroyers that was sensibly sitting outside the hyper barrier, the one with the wormhole com. He didn’t know if it would help, or if he would get a reply back in time. But it was the only thing he could think of doing. No, not the only thing, he thought, pulling up the program that showed the ship’s systems, and seeing if he could get the codes to the shuttle.

  They might court martial me for this. Or at least bring me up in a civilian court for theft of government property. But if it gets me out of this stellar furnace, they can do whatever they want.