After an hour of back and forth bombardment the assault shuttles started their way to the surface. This was always a most dangerous time, especially with this enemy. Now was when the hidden assets would appear to attack the shuttles, and sure enough, that was what happened. The atmosphere was suddenly filled with hundreds of fast moving attack craft, knocking shuttles out of the air or engaging in high speed fights with the Ca’cadasan fighters.
“Anything else we should expect?” he asked his human slave, who was looking at the holo of the planet with tears in her eyes.
“When they run out of fighters they will contest your landing with infantry,” said Jana Gorbachev, wiping her eyes. “They will fight you as long as they can from positions of strength, then resort to guerilla warfare against you.”
“Any chance they could be talked into surrender?”
“And what will you do with them when they surrender?” asked the woman.
“They will be processed,” said the Great Admiral, wondering how she could not know this, having seen it herself. “Those who are useful to us will be kept alive, as long as they remain so. The others will be processed, killed, and fed to my men.”
“And knowing that, you really expect them to surrender?” asked the woman.
The Great Admiral pushed the button on the pain inducer and watched with satisfaction as the human bent over in agony. “Will you never learn.” This is a most resistant species, not giving up easily. Such stupidity.
He walked away, cursing this species that was causing him such a headache. Not realizing that the system he thought he held was still under the observation of an enemy capable of reporting back to their headquarters.
*
HEXAGON, CAPITULUM, MAY 10TH, 1000.
“So, it looks like we’ve lost Conundrum,” said the Imperial Army Lt. General who was giving the briefing.
“Do we still have men on the surface?” asked Sean, looking down at his flat comp, then up into the man’s eyes.
“There are over ten thousand naval and army personnel still resisting,” said the General with a nod. “But they can’t hold out for long. I recommend that we use the wormhole to pull them off the planet, those we can get to, and then close down the portal.”
“No,” yelled Sean, slamming his hand on the table. “We are joined in battle there, and I intend for us to keep the fight going. As long as we are holding out there, we keep them from taking that system as a base.”
“And what do you suggest, your Majesty? We’ve held for a week already, against orbital bombardment and overwhelming odds on the ground.”
“What I suggest is that we send more troops through the wormhole. As many as we can, light and medium infantry. Then we keep the fighting going on the surface. Make it another Vietnam, Afghanistan or Brazil. Or even better, Stalingrad. Something they’ve never heard of, until now.”
“They hold the orbitals, your Majesty,” said the Vice Admiral who was sitting in as the naval representative. “Any force we send to that planet will be destroyed by their fleet.”
“Is that true, General?” asked Sean, narrowing his eyes.
“We could send jammers along with them. As well as a lot of hyper-v missiles to take out their shuttles. We’ll still be at a disadvantage in some respects, while gaining the advantages of a guerilla force.”
“Then send everything we can through that wormhole. As much as we can. Who’s in charge there?”
“Grand Fleet Admiral Mgonda is the ranking officer,” said the Vice Admiral.
“I want Admiral Mgonda and his staff brought back from Conundrum. Did the Field Marshal survive?”
“No, your Majesty,” said the Lt. General, bowing his head. “Field Marshal Maxwell was killed in the initial bombardment.”
“Then send an Army officer there to command the resistance. I need Admiral Mgonda to assume a naval command.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said both the flag officers in unison, saluting and leaving the room. He turned to Grand High Admirals Lenkowski and Sondra McCullom. “How are we coming on the special projects?”
“Operation deception is almost ready to go,” said McCullom with a smile. “We have two hundred tramps outfitted, crewed, and ready for deployment to Sector Four.”
“Then let’s get them on their way,” said the Monarch with a smile. “I can’t wait to see them wondering at why some of their ships are coming up missing.” He turned to Len next. “And how about your battle fleet? Ready?”
“We can ship out tomorrow, though some of the newer ships really haven’t worked up to full capacity.”
“They can do that on the way,” said Sean with a nod. “Now remember, I don’t want you to engage in any battle that you aren’t sure you can win. It’s most important to keep that fleet in being.”
“Kind of hard to do with mostly hyper VI ships,” said Len around the pipe in his mouth.
“But if anyone can, you are the man, Admiral,” said Sean. “That’s why you are in command of that fleet. But remember, you must not allow the enemy to get their hands on any of the new equipment.”
“Sure you don’t want to take command, your Majesty?” asked McCullom, while Len almost choked on his pipe.
“Eventually I plan to do just that,” Sean said with a wink. “But not yet. I still need to get this mess under control here. Until this Empire is properly organized for a long term war, I can’t leave. But I still intend to lead from the front, once I’m able.”
“Research and development have come up with some new wrinkles that might cause our opponents more headaches,” said McCullom. “Some real science fiction stuff that even I have a hard time believing. Normally we would want to spend a few years making sure everything works without a hitch. But this is wartime.”
“I’ll want to see those new wrinkles myself,” said Sean, standing up from his seat. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting with the heads of Parliament to see if we can squeeze some more Imperials out of the wealthy. Not their favorite thing, but necessary at this time.”
“Better you than me on that, your Majesty,” said Len with a laugh. “I’d rather face the Cacas any day.”
*
CONUNDRUM, MAY 26TH, 1000.
“We estimate that so far we have fought and destroyed over two hundred thousand of their surface warriors,” said the General in command of the ground forces.
“At the loss of over a hundred thousand of your own,” growled the Great Admiral, glaring at the holo.
“It seems for every one we kill or capture, two more spring into existence,” said the General, an expression of disbelief on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear they were bringing more soldiers onto the planet.”
“But we know that is impossible,” said the Great Admiral, looking over at the holo of the system. “We have this system locked up. It would take a fleet of those damned stealth ships of theirs to deliver even a fraction of the troops you have imagined.”
“So where in the hells are they coming from?” demanded the General.
“They were holding them in reserve,” said the Great Admiral with a scowl. “They must be nearing the end of their reserves. You just need to push a little harder.”
“Then I need more men,” said the General. “Or you need to blast the surface of this planet into slag.”
“I want this planet as a base,” growled the Admiral, giving a head shake of negation. “And I need the other soldiers to take the remaining systems we have invaded.”
“If you want this planet, then give me more soldiers. Or I can’t promise anything.”
“Very well. But you have one week to take this place, or you will answer for it with your head.”
“Then take it,” said the other male with a feral grin. “If I lose many more males I will be ready to take my own life.”
*
CONUNDRUM SURFACE, MAY 28TH, 1000.
“Glad to see you, Preacher,” said the general commanding, Colonel General Earnst Schmidt, sticking out
his hand.
Brigadier General Walther Jodel took the hand in a firm grip and shook it with pleasure. He had served with then Colonel Schmidt on the Fenris frontier when his Ranger platoon had supported the other officer’s regiment during a planetary invasion. He knew Schmidt was a smart officer, and that the General knew Jodel was his superior in this kind of warfare.
Behind the two men the soldiers of Preacher’s first battalion were filing out of the wormhole, each carrying a full combat load and their personal gear. Three more battalions were to follow, until a full brigade of specially trained and equipped guerilla fighters were on the planet, ready to contest it with the Cacas.
“Show me what you got, General,” said Preacher, waving for his exec to follow. Schmidt nodded and led the way to a cavern that had been converted into a command post. Soldiers, Marines and Spacers looked up as they entered, and many side conversations started, with Jodel hearing the word Preacher said many times. Others were coming in and out of the chamber in a variety of combat armor; Army, Marine, shipboard, even the crappy militia variety.
“We’re using everyone we have,” said Schmidt, following Preacher’s gaze. “No matter what they were before, now they’re riflemen.”
Preacher nodded, thinking what a crappy deal the militia and spacers were getting. Their equipment wasn’t made for ground combat. In fact, the shipboard battle armor would stand out like a blaring siren in a battlefield environment. Of course, his men had no powered armor, but they made that work to their advantage.
A holo of the planet occupied the center of the room, and Preacher whistled as he saw the many devastated areas on the globe. A third of one of the continents was completely void of vegetation, while the coastal areas of several more were scoured up to the first layer of inland mountains.
“A couple of their missiles got through to the surface,” explained Schmidt, pointing at the globe. “This continent was not heavily populated in the first place, and the enemy has more of less taken it away from us. We think he is building landing strips and supply depots there, where we can’t get at them.”
Preacher looked over the globe with a tense smile. “The atmosphere looks kind of cloudy.”
“The second missile strike into the ocean is still putting out steam,” said Schmidt, pointing to the swirling clouds there. “It will be some months before the seawater hardens the magma flows.” The General looked over at Preacher with a quizzical expression. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking boats,” said Preacher. “Something to get two battalions of my boys over there, and me with them. Then we can say fuck all to the enemy and his safe zone.”
“What about the other two battalions?” asked Schmidt.
“I think I can trust you to come with a use for them, General,” said the Preacher with a smile. “Now, let’s see what we can do about getting some transportation.”
Chapter Four
To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace. George Washington.
CAPITULUM, JUNE 15, 1000.
“Well,” said Sean, sitting back in the luxurious seat of the air car, which was really more of a limousine. “That could have gone better.”
Jennifer gave him a sympathetic look, while Samantha gave a half glare.
“What did you expect?” asked Samantha, shaking her head. “The people of the Empire have been raised to fear AIs. You didn’t think a little thing like a war of extermination would change how Parliament felt?”
“I thought maybe they would see reason,” said Sean, staring at the floor of the car. “We need more robots, including autonomous combat robots. After all, missiles are just robots, and we throw them around by the hundreds of thousands.”
“Missiles have limited life spans based on their on-board energy supply,” said Samantha in the reasonable voice that Sean was coming to hate. “Once they run out of power they really can’t do anything except blow up, or coast.”
“The same is true of battle bots,” said Sean, seeing the disbelief in the faces of both women. “Well, they have limited power supplies too.”
“And access to resupply,” said Samantha, still shaking her head. “Don’t forget that. If a multiton battle bot wants to get a resupply of energy, on a planet brimming with it, who is going to stop it?”
“I didn’t think I would get my butt so soundly whipped on my first proposal as Emperor,” said Sean, rubbing his temples. “I mean, the Scholars were the closest vote, and even there I lost.”
“Then go for something you know you’re going to win the next time,” said Jennifer, putting an arm on his shoulders and rubbing. She jerked her hand off as the fabric went rigid enough to stop a medium velocity projectile.
Sean groaned, hating the security measures he was forced to endure, not even allowing a woman he wanted to get close to the opportunity to rub his shoulders.
“You’ve got a lot of supporters in the Lords and Commons, and the Scholars are almost wholeheartedly yours,” said Samantha. “Just don’t try to push something down their throats they are not willing to concede.”
“I could declare level one Martial Law,” said the Emperor with a frown. “Then I could simply bypass Parliament.”
“And start a revolution in the middle of a war,” said Samantha, looking over at Jennifer. “Speak some sense to this man, Doctor.”
“Don’t push it, your Majesty,” said Jennifer, turning her beautiful blue eyes on the Monarch. “People are still afraid of the machines. Hell, I’m still afraid of the machines, even though that happened three hundred years ago. Everyone is afraid that autonomous machines will spell the end of humankind. It almost happened, three centuries ago.”
“And the Fleet stopped them.”
“At the cost of a half dozen worlds and over a billion lives,” said Samantha, reaching over and grabbing Sean’s chin so she could turn his face toward her. “Go for what you can get. If it gets bad enough, maybe they will change their minds.”
Sean could tell by his cousin’s expression that she didn’t really believe that. Now I understand the rages father would have after dealing with Parliament. A necessary evil, he called them, with the emphasis on the evil.
“Just stick with getting all the wormhole development you can get,” said Samantha, letting go of his chin. “People like the idea of wormholes. Just don’t even think about time travel. That’s almost as taboo as autonomous war machines.”
“Wormholes,” said Sean, remembering something that had totally slipped his mind. “We left a wormhole in Sestius System. And I’ve got an idea for it that might cause our enemies some more problems.”
*
ELYSIUM, JUNE 17TH, 1000.
Ambassador Horatio Alexanderopolis was so happy to see the light of day, the star in the sky almost seeming like home to one who had spent such a long time on the Elysium capital world. Not that the shelter had been bad. It was roomy, and had sufficient supplies to last for years. Still, it had been nerve wracking to be stuck underground with the rumbles of kinetic strikes transmitted through the walls.
The streets, what was left of them, were crowded with Brakakak soldiers in their distinctive body armor. Atmospheric attack craft floated overhead, and the deep rumbles of explosions still sounded in the distance.
Lord Grarakakak stood and stared at the carnage, his wives and children clinging close in fear. “My beautiful city,” moaned the avian leader of the Empire. “What were the fools thinking?”
That they could take the power from the most powerful species in your Empire, thought the Ambassador, remembering the sight of the heavily armored Knockermen as they tried to get this leader, before his own battle suited Marines had pushed them back. And they were fools, since most of the Fleet is manned by your own species. The Knockerman had the advantage in ground combat forces, both numerically and in capabilities. The Brakakak had speed and control of the air and space. That gave them enough of an advantage to take back the planet, or at least the most import
ant parts.
“I need to get in touch with my government,” said Horatio, breaking the High Lord out of his silent ruminations.
“I will call for a shuttle to bring you up to the flagship,” said the High Lord, looking at the ruined Terran Embassy building, which was no longer capable of linking to the satellites that connected to the hyperwave relay to his own capital.
In minutes the Ambassador was riding a Brakakak shuttle up to orbit, looking down on the ruined metropolis that had once been the premier city of the second most powerful polity of the region. Now it was a reclamation project waiting to happen. It didn’t take long to reach the Elysium flagship, a battleship of comparable size with those of Horatio’s Empire. Scores of other vessels were in orbit with it, and shuttles were leaving specialized troop transport vessels, bringing more troops to the surface.
The interior of the ship had an alien feel, in a graceful and beautiful manner that seemed to fit the Brakakak milieu. Even the com center seemed to be designed with an aesthetic that was so different from the stark functionality of Imperial warships. A tech showed him how to operate the system, then left him alone as a privacy field sprung into existence around the station he was using. With some species he wouldn’t trust that field, sure that he was still being monitored. To the Brakakak invasion of privacy was a terrible sin, and they would not think of doing it. Unless it was a member of their intelligence gathering service in search of information. Then all was fair. But he thought the High Lord would order his privacy respected in this instance.
The Ambassador sent a report to his government, jacking into the system and giving them a rundown on the situation with their greatest ally. In three days they would know what he knew, that the situation in Elysium, while still not stable, was improving. After that he sent his personal code into the system and started to read the messages he had not been able to read for the last month.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 8
