“Still quite a distance for safety,” said the Tactical Officer. “We don’t have enough mass to be a threat at twenty thousand kilometers. Here we go, assault shuttles leaving the ship.”
“Watch it on those lasers, Tac,” she cautioned that officer, watching as the shuttles came on. They came to a stop just a couple of kilometers from the hull of the freighter.
“Open your starboard airlock and allow my men on board,” came the voice of the enemy commander over the com. “No tricks now.”
Not even this one? thought the Captain as she sent the order to open the lock, which was being covered by Frazier’s men. “Ready on the teleporters,” she whispered into another com circuit, watching as the energy graphs peaked at the Tac Station. She raised her hand in the air. “Now,” she said, that one word setting everything in motion.
Deep within the bulk of the Inixius the five quantum teleporters powered up, drawing their energy from the freighter’s crystal matrix batteries and sending their cargo toward the enemy scout. Each teleporter had ten kilograms of antimatter in a magnetic containment field. In an instant all of the antimatter was gone, and the magnetic containment field didn’t go with it.
Warships were built to handle hits by powerful warheads, in the multigigaton range. Their electromagnetic fields were the first barrier, followed by multiple meter thick hulls of superhard alloys and carbon fibers. Add to that were the inertial compensators that would take up a lot of the force that was transferred into the hull. That was if the warhead was able to make it past the defensive countermissiles and lasers that would try their best to blast it from space. Most times that best was enough, unless the defensive systems were completely overloaded by incoming weapons.
Quantum teleportation was not good for anything except sending materials from point A to B. What arrived did not in any way resemble what was sent. Living objects and machinery sent through the teleporter were reassembled missing from forty to sixty percent of their mass, which tended to appear in random locations from kilometers away to the other side of the Universe. This didn’t really matter when the cargo was anti-hydrogen, which acted the same no matter how much came out on the other side of the process.
On five different spots on the ship about three kilograms of antimatter appeared, bypassing all the material and energy defenses. Individual grams appeared in dozens of other locations, smaller amounts in ten of thousands of places. Altogether, twenty-six kilograms of antimatter appeared within the enemy ship. In all locations it immediately touched matter, and the party was on.
A little over one gigaton of explosive force was suddenly contained within the hull of the enemy ship, killing everything aboard. Parts of the hull expanded, and pieces blew out like an overinflated baloon. The hull may still have survived, if not for the tons of antimatter already aboard the ship, in engine storage and warheads, breaching containment. The enemy scout ship blew apart with the force of over two hundred gigatons of energy, and when the plasma cloud cleared there was nothing left of the enemy scout ship.
The lasers of the Inixius now took the two shuttles under fire, striking them in the engines and their weapons pods. The enemy Marines already aboard the freighter were overwhelmed, many killed, some captured.
“We’ve got the shuttles aboard, ma’am,” said the Tactical Officer minutes later. “And they both have some grabber units intact.”
“Too bad we couldn’t get the hyperdrive from that scout,” said Wyman, really just happy to have survived. “Get us out of here, Helm,” she ordered. There was still danger ahead. Now they had to creep out of this space without being discovered, so they could bring their find back to base.
*
MASSADARA SPACE, AUGUST 3RD, 1000.
“More coming in, sir,” came the call over the com link.
Commander Bryce Suttler, the captain of the Stealth Attack Ship Seastag sat up in his bed and looked at the time. I’m about fucking tired of being woken up every time something comes into the system. But he was the guy in charge, and SOP called for his being informed whenever something important happened. And according to definition, new enemy ships coming to the system was important.
“I’ll be right up,” he said into the link, then shrugged himself into a uniform and left his cabin. He didn’t bother with his boots. In fact, most of the crew didn’t bother with proper uniform, and he really didn’t feel like enforcing the regs. They had been on this patrol for over five months, and it didn’t look like they were going to be heading home anytime soon. And we don’t even have any missiles to carry out an attack. Not that headquarters was likely to allow such even if they had the weapons. The intelligence he was sending back was too important.
“What do you have?” he asked, walking onto the bridge. The watch didn’t bother getting to their feet, another reg that Suttler didn’t feel like enforcing. They were all tired. Being in constant danger, far behind enemy lines, was not conducive to relaxation.
“Another enemy task force,” said Tactical Officer Lieutenant SG Walter Ngovic, the officer of the watch. “Fifty-four ships, including ten of their battleships, and something new.”
“Let me see,” said Suttler, getting into his seat as Ngovic vacated it. The holo tank shifted from a view of the system to a point about an AU past the hyper barrier. Seastag was twenty-five AUs further out, almost four billion kilometers, hidden in a big iceball that was not the largest around. The enemy had been searching for them on and off, mostly off during the last two months as no trace was found of them.
The holo showed the giant space station that was the enemy base. Suttler cursed under his breath to see it. He had hit it hard, back when his ship still had missiles. Just not hard enough, as evidenced by it still existing. There were a score of ships around the station, sixteen warships and four tankers, prime targets filled with antimatter, that they couldn’t hit. Suttler cursed again as he remembered that they would not see the ships for another three and a half hours. They knew they were already there, because they had tracked them through hyperspace up to when they jumped into normal space.
“Send the information to HQ,” said the Commander, rubbing his eyes. He looked down at the readings of the enemy ships jumping into normal space, and saw that there was something different, about twelve of them. “I’ll be back when we can get a look at them.”
Suttler went down to the galley and ordered a breakfast, something they could always do on an Imperial Navy ship, no matter the time. After finishing his tank grown bacon and eggs, followed by reconstituted coffee, he thought about going back to bed, then decided that it was not worth it. Instead he headed to the gym, and put in a strenuous two hour workout, then another hour on the weapons’ range. Then it was back to the bridge, where he could sit at his station waiting for the image of the recently arrived ships to manifest.
He counted down the time on his implant, waiting. And there they were, popping out of hyper through the self generated holes. The holes closed with a flash. And the ship’s computer did a complete count on them, ten battleships, ten cruisers, and twenty scout ships, the usual pattern. And fourteen ships that had a different look to them.
The new vessels were of intermediate size between the twenty-five million ton battleships and the four million ton cruisers. The computer estimated them to be about twelve million tons. And a close up of one showed a layout unlike the other Cacadasan ships. More like a liner configuration, with numerous openings that looked like hangars.
“What do you think, Ngovic?” asked Suttler, pointing at the holo.
“It looks like a liner. Or a troop transport,” said the Tactical Officer.
“That’s what I thought,” said Suttler. “So they’ve decided the Marines they carry aboard their warships aren’t enough.” He turned to the Com Officer, who had come on deck when the Captain had. “Send this to headquarters. It’s definitely something they’re going to want to know.”
*
CONUNDRUM ORBIT, AUGUST 18TH, 1000.
Great
Admiral Miierrowanasa M’tinisasitow stood on the bridge of his ship and looked down on the planet that had served as Sector IV Headquarters for the human Empire. They had taken this system over four months prior, and still the resistance continued on the surface. The same was true of several other planets the Ca’cadasans had taken. Where in the hell are they getting the men on those planets. Training the civilians? Then how do they equip them? And those new soldiers, the ones that are undetectable, and strike from nowhere?
Those were the ones that seemed to scare even his best ground force commanders. They had actually snuck in and attacked the command post on the Southwest Continent, the one that was supposed to be free of enemy soldiers. His own ground force had some minor successes, taking out a platoon here and there, and once a company. But he was still losing men to them at a ten to one ratio. The ratio against their other soldiers was better. He was killing two of them for every one he lost. A big part of that was having control of air and space, and he was still losing aircraft at an alarming rate. They just seem to be better at us in ground combat. And from what we have learned they have had more practice going against opponents with a similar tech level, unlike us.
He looked over at the slave liaison, wondering if she knew the answer. No, she’s a spacer. What could she know about ground combat. Especially since we aren’t fighting their naval infantry. No, these are special ground forces. At least we’re still doing very well in space, and if we defeat their naval forces, we win.
So well in fact that he was thinking of launching an attack on the core systems of this Empire. What had held him back was the sure knowledge that those systems would be very well defended. But at current exchange rates, twelve to one in tonnage, he didn’t think the enemy would have a fleet in a couple of years. Perhaps I should wait and see how my other groups fare with the central systems of the two smaller human powers.
“My Lord Admiral,” said the voice of his Intelligence Officer, walking onto the bridge with a flat comp in his hand. “I have noticed an alarming trend in the last few weeks.”
“Another one,” hissed the Admiral, glaring at the Low Admiral who was responsible for crunching all the data on the current war.
“We have been losing a lot of scouts and cruisers that were out on single patrol,” said the officer, ignoring the anger of his superior. “Over fifty scouts, and thirteen cruisers. Just, disappeared.”
“Then they must be running into something they can’t handle,” said the Great Admiral, saying what seemed obvious to him.
“But, not one has returned. Every one of them has just disappeared. We would have expected at least something to come back with word of enemy military units in this space. Survivors of a battle. It defies logic.”
“Perhaps they have space monsters we have not heard of,” said another Cacada officer, to the laughter of his fellows. The Great Admiral put an end to that foolishness with a hard glare their way.
“All patrols are now to consist of at least two vessels,” decreed the Great Admiral, sending his electronic signature to the order. “Any enemy military vessels are to be approached with caution, with particular attention paid to possible traps. Now, what else do you have for me?”
“A courier has just come in from the New Moscow space,” said the Intelligence Officer with a grin. “We have almost completely overrun that kingdom.”
“Almost?”
“There are still some worlds holding out, contesting us in ground combat, but all of their industry is either ours or destroyed. And,” the officer considered with a troubled expression on his face, “some of their naval units have disappeared.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“Several task forces were able to elude our forces and find hiding places. The local intelligence staff thinks they are no longer in New Moscow space, but have fled, possibly to New Terran Empire space.”
“But they really don’t know,” growled the Great Admiral, pacing back to the holo tank, which reconfigured itself to show the greater part of the Persius arm, or at least what the Ca’cadasan Empire knew of it.
“No, sir,” agreed the other Admiral. “They don’t really know. But it is hoped….”
“We are not going to win this campaign with hope,” said the Great Admiral, looking down on the smaller male. “We will win with knowledge of the enemy and what he is doing.”
“Yes, my Lord,” agreed the other male. He looked down for a moment, then seemed to steel himself. “The news from the New Terran Republic is not so good, my Lord. While our forces are winning every battle, they are suffering unsustainable losses.”
“I want them to keep the pressure on,” said the Great Admiral, looking at the smaller polity that bordered the New Terran Empire. “I do not want the two larger human governments aiding each other.” I almost wish I had followed the counsel of my officers and hit the Republic with everything we had, then taken on the Empire. Well, he thought, waving the other Admiral away so he could think, too late for that now. We have the war we have, and there’s nothing to do but fight it.
*
CAPITULUM, JEWEL, AUGUST 25TH, 1000.
The Imperial Zoological Gardens covered over twenty-six hundred square kilometers on the east central portion of the city. Over two point five million species from more than two thousand planets called it home. Two megatowers, nine hundred and fifty floors each, contained many of the smaller habitats. Thousands of larger habitats, duplicating the gravity and atmosphere of the animals’ homes when necessary, were scattered about the gardens. Over a billion people visited the gardens each year, most to see the popular large animal exhibits, while many naturalists frequented the smaller habitats.
Dr. Jennifer Conway was delighted to find that the exhibit she was looking for was not far from the landing station near the west entrance of the gardens. The large dome loomed ahead, just one of many that dotted the gardens. Jennifer read the sign over the entrance and went in, feeling the slight difference in gravity as soon as she stepped through the door. Inside was much hotter than outside, and the light was the harsh white she remembered from Sestius IV. And there, standing in the two square kilometer enclosure, were four of the giant Jassanic Beasts, the largest mammalians in the known Galaxy. Around them were several dozen smaller grazing animals, and the Zoo link told her there were enclosures for the giant catlike predators that hunted these animals.
The largest Jassanic, what must have been an eighty ton matriach, stretched her long neck into the trees planted on the far side of the habitat, pulling off leaves and grinding them in her great mouth. The other Jassanics ate from other trees, while the lesser animals cropped the grass like moss that covered the ground.
Jennifer found a bench on the circular viewing tract and took a seat, letting her mind roam back to her time on the planet she thought would become her long term home, now occupied by the Ca’cadasans. And in the way of the human mind, her thoughts turned back to her late fiance’, Captain Glen McKinnon of the Imperial Marines, killed by those same murderous aliens. Soon people were wondering why the beautiful young woman was sitting on the bench crying. Some came over to see what was the matter, and were waved off by the two Secret Service agents that were her guard detail. They knew what was going on, and had been told by professionals to let her cry it out.
Jennifer sat there for an hour, allowing the grief to work its way out of her system. I have good memories, she thought. Glen was a good man, a loyal man, who died saving others. I will never forget him. She wiped her eyes and took another look at the majestic animals. Now its time to move on. She smiled at that thought. That doesn’t mean you get your way, your Majesty. At least, not yet.
Jennifer spent another four hours at the gardens, first looking over the Sestius carnivores, who were in a much smaller enclosure than the herbivores. Then she wandered at random, looking at the wonders of the natural worlds of the Empire, making a promise to visit as many of those worlds as she could.
*
HEXAGON, J
EWEL, AUGUST 30TH, 1000.
Sean watched the holo that showed a small ship starting to disappear into a wormhole. A second holo showed the exit hole, sitting in space with nothing around it. The small ship started to disappear in the normal manner, sliding into the wormhole. At least until it hit the midpoint, when literally all hell broke loose. The ship exploded, and at the same time the wormhole exploded, on both ends at the same instant. Sean looked at the figures below each of the blasts. They were both in the eight hundred gigaton range, enough to destroy anything that happened to be close to the holes.
“I have already seen this,” said the Emperor to the scientist that was in charge of the program.
“I know you have, your Majesty,” said the young woman who was an expert on wormhole physics, Doctor Atiyah Boutros. “But you have not seen this.”
Another holo came on, looking much the same as the other. The small ship, under robotic control, approached the wormhole, while another projection showed the portal it was to exit. The ship plunged into the hole, then reappeared coming out of the other end of the hole. Sean sat up in his seat, his interest arroused. “Did that ship have an on-board wormhole?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the scientist. “In Allah’s name, it did. Shrunken to its smallest size, really no larger than a protein molecule, with a couple of atoms of negative matter holding it open. And the entire hole enveloped in negative matter.”
“So you’ve found the solution. Good job.”
“Well, maybe not completely,” said the woman, her smile turning to a frown. The holo showed what must have been the same ship, again heading toward the wormhole. This time it was a repeat of the first presentation, as massive explosions erupted from both ends of the dying wormhole. “We did everything exactly the same, and this was the result. And the same on the next eight trials, until.”
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 10
