Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4)

by Doug Dandridge

  On the Central Docks he looked out the viewer at the ship he had come to tour, the Claudius Imperator, named after the Roman who succeeded the mad Caligula, not the one Imperial Emperor who was called the mad in his lifetime, before his genius was recognized. The battleship looked like any other hyper VI heavy unit, except for the larger than normal hyperdrive projectors and grabbers that denoted a hyper VII vessel. Fourteen other battleships of the same design were floating in near space. Sean knew that the outward appearance was definitely only the surface of the changes that had been made to these vessels.

  Sean focused his enhanced eyes and looked beyond the battleships, to a new class of twenty-three million ton superbattleship being built along the same lines. Then it was time to go to the shuttle bay for the short flight across to the Claudius Imperator. Sean kept gazing at all the ships in space, his ships, splitting his attention with the new docks that were going up further out in space.

  A band greeted him as he came aboard shuttle bay two, the port forward hangar. A line of Marines in dress reds performed a flawless rifle salute, while the naval officers beyond them rendered the formal hand version.

  “Welcome aboard, your Majesty,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda, stepping from the head of the line and offering his hand. “May I introduce the Captain of Claudius, Gertrude von Stuppleheim.” The distinguished looking woman also offered her hand. “And my Flag Captain, Marcus Streeter.”

  “Not related to the former Prime Minister, are you?” asked Sean, trying to keep the frown from his face.

  “Very distant relation,” said the officer with a smile. “My line was considered the black sheep of the family.”

  “Then you’re my kind of people,” said Sean, shaking the Captain’s hand.

  “Are you ready for the grand tour, your Majesty,” said Mgonda, gesturing toward the hatch.

  “Looking forward to it,” said Sean. “Lead on.”

  The corridors of the ship had that new smell to them, something that would never be captured again. Captain von Stuppleheim was proud of her ship, as Sean could gather by the way she pointed out everything of interest. And she was very proud to be commanding the first of a new class, something the Fleet was hoping would equalize the odds a bit.

  “And the grabber units are of course courtesy of our opponents, reverse engineered from their units,” said Mgonda. “They really weren’t that much more advanced than we were in that area, and it only took some minor modifications to bring us up to their specs.”

  “Then that is something I want modified on all of our ships,” said Sean, waving for his adjutant to make a note of it. “I know we can’t do them all at once, but maybe on a rotation as they come into base.”

  “And here we have the wormhole room,” said the Captain, coming to a heavy door that was flanked by a pair of Marine guards who came to attention as the party approached.

  The door opened, and Sean found himself looking into a large room with a four meter square mirror at one end. It took a second to realize that it was a cargo class wormhole. And that the far wall had double doors that must have opened into a cargo compartment.

  “We send com through this hole,” said Mgonda, pointing at a communications laser, transmitter and receiver, that pointed at the hole. “We can also bring in personnel and cargo, as needed.”

  “Then I may be visiting you while you are on deployment,” Sean said with a laugh.

  “And leave that big beautiful superbattleship being built for you,” said Mgonda, shaking his head. “And don’t look so surprised. We can keep secrets, but gossip spreads.”

  “I’m not sure I’m going to be using it for myself,” said Sean, looking down at the floor. “I might just leave it to you experts and play the political game.”

  “Good choice, your Majesty,” said Mgonda, patting Sean on the back. “That’s a game we in the Fleet can’t play.”

  “How are the other wormholes working out?” asked Sean, changing the subject.

  “I guess we’ll find out when we actually test them,” said the Admiral. “From the reports we’re receiving from Sector Four, the phase one implementation is going better than we expected. Now we just have to prove phase two.”

  The tour continued for a couple of hours, not really enough time to see the whole ship, but sufficient to take in the most salient features. Not only were the ships of this class faster than any battle line warship ever built, but at sixteen million tons, they were also as heavily armed as any fifteen million ton battleship. More so, if the specs were to be believed, despite that extra million tons going into power plant, hyperdrive and grabbers.

  “I’m most impressed, Admiral,” said Sean as they walked back to the hangar. “And you’ll be ready to deploy in three weeks.”

  “We’re hoping, sir,” said the Grand Fleet Admiral. “And Mara’s command should be ready about the same time.”

  Sean nodded, remembering the Rear Admiral who had saved his ass from the ill-fated mission to Sestius, a strike he had ordered that had resulted in the death of thousands of Fleet personnel, and almost his own. She’s been promoted to Vice Admiral, he thought, looking at her disposition in his link. In charge of Mgonda’s scout force, four squadrons of battle cruisers, plus light cruisers and destroyers.

  “Then maybe we can use you for a strike on Conumdrum,” said Sean, putting his arm over the Admiral’s broad shoulders.

  “I wish I had never left,” said Mgonda. “That was my post, and I abandoned it.”

  “On my orders, Admiral. It would have been a waste to let you go down with the ship. We needed you to run a battle force, and so here you are. Now I have to get going. I need to address Parliament tonight.”

  “Better you than me on that one, your Majesty,” said the six star flag officer. “I would rather face the Cacas any time.”

  Sean insisted that Jennifer accompany him to Parliament, with the threat of having her arrested if need be. She hadn’t been happy, but finally she had consented. Sean felt his heart beating faster as he looked at her, the emeralds around her neck setting off her red hair and lightly freckled skin. Her trim, athletic figure filled out the gown the Imperial clothiers had made for her. He didn’t see how any noble lady he had ever seen could come near to her grace and beauty, and she was a hell of a lot smarter than just about any woman of privilege he had known.

  Sean had the continuing premonition that something was going to go wrong, all the way to the House of Lords. He didn’t know what. He was surrounded by Secret Service and Marines, all trusted, all known. And my mother and father were surrounded by trusted security, and one of their own detail killed them.

  He kept glancing at the close security detail in his car, then at the others as they came down on the Lords’ landing pad. He had gotten to know most of these men and women over the months he had been back, and he hated to think that one might be a traitor. Probably just my imagination, he thought. And a bad dream. But his own mind told him it was much more than that.

  Part of his detail rode the elevator down first, to make sure it was secure. When they reached the bottom and made contact with the section of the detail that had already canvassed the building, they sent their acknowledgement that all was well. When the elevator doors opened Sean followed his detail into the large car, Jennifer on his arm. Samantha would already be in the Lords’ chamber, where the joint session was being held.

  Sean looked from face to face as they rode down the lift. All of the Secret Service agents looked into space, ignoring the glances from their monarch. Except for one woman who kept making surreptitious looks at Sean.

  Sean ran her profile through his implant, tapping into the Secret Service, IIA and IIB computers. She was on vacation for a week. Supposedly hiking in the back country. Kind of hard to verify that. Or is it?

  The Emperor again searched through the database, and found that Agent Sondrata’s locator signal had been at the house of former Prime Minister Theo Streeter, a man who had not been seen by a
nyone for weeks. And neither had Judy Decker, until just the other day. Streeter was no longer a member of the Lords, but Decker was, and was expected to be in the assemblage tonight.

  Kind of slim evidence, thought Sean, and really not enough to convict someone on. But he was dealing with his life here, and the life of Jennifer, and the continuance of the government during wartime. Slim evidence might have to be enough.

  Sean linked through his implant and sent a message to the lieutenant in charge of his Marine contingent for the night. The young man seemed shocked by the information the Emperor sent him, though unbelieving might be more accurate. But he agreed to the order, which was his job.

  Parliament stood and clapped as he walked into the hall. Jennifer, looking decidedly nervous, went to her chair behind the dais, taking a seat next to Samantha, with the Cabinet and Joint Chiefs sitting to either side. The Lords were seated in the lower hall, their home turf, with the Commons arrayed to the galleries to both sides and the Scholars to the back gallery. Twenty thousand or so visitors and guests filled out the crowd, the press, representatives from other powers, and the randomly selected representation from the citizenry.

  Sean cleared his throat and started looking at his notes, hoping that this speech would get him what he felt the Empire needed. “Lords and Ladies, Representatives of the People, Scholars. I have come to you today to talk about the war, what we are doing, and what needs to be done.”

  Sean could see interest on some faces, smiles on others, even some open hostility. Not unexpected, and he still needed to work with those Lords who were hostile to his taking charge of the government. He saw a particularly hostile expression on the face of Lady Decker, once Sergeant of Arms of the assembly, now merely just another member of the Lords.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, to put it succinctly, we are losing. We have lost half of Sector IV. We have lost nearly every major battle we have engaged in with few exceptions.” He didn’t mention the Q-ship campaign, which was still classified Top Secret. That was one of the problems with disseminating information about the war. Disasters were public record, while most successes were kept under close wraps, so that the enemy wouldn’t get wind of them. The lawmakers on the select committees would of course know about them, and tell their cliques to vote on them along their own lines. Sometimes that was good, sometimes not so much.

  “I do not plan to keep losing. I think back to the lessons of History. Of England, in their fights against Napoleon and Hitler. Of the hardships the Russians faced against the Nazi Juggernaut. Of the trials of the United States and Israel in the mid twenty-first century. Of our own battle against the Elysium Empire and others, when we were trying to establish ourselves in this space. History teaches us that we must go through a period of darkness before reaching the light.”

  Sean paused for a moment to scan the crowd. Again he spotted Decker, glaring at him, then her eyes moving to the other people on the stand, stopping for a moment on one person in particular. Sean glanced to the side and saw that she was looking at Agent Sondrata. The agent nodded, and Decker let a small smile play across her face.

  [Get ready] sent Sean over his link to the Marine Lieutenant. [It’s about to go down.]

  “We will overcome this challenge, as we have the others before this. We will do as our predecessors have done. We will endure our defeats so that we might lay the groundwork for final victory. Maybe not victory in our lifetimes, but victory for our children and grandchildren.”

  “Look out,” yelled someone behind the Emperor.

  He immediately looked at the suspected assassin, seeing a gun in the agent’s hand. It was a particle beam, and she was swinging it to an aiming point at Sean’s head. Sean started to move himself, raising his arm, bringing the stunner attached to his right wrist with the speed of the enhanced. But the agent was also moving with speed, if not in quite the same range as the Monarch’s, and he was sure that he would not get his stunner up in time.

  Just before the particle beam reached lineup with its target the agent’s eyes took on an unfocused look, and Sean could hear the low level hum of sonics. The agent’s legs shook, and her finger pulled the trigger. The dark red of a particle beam reached out with an angry bee sound, missing Sean’s head by inches and continuing on into the upper gallery, striking one of the Representatives of Commons, then moving onto another one, killing both. With that the agent fell to the stage and lay with spasming muscles.

  The hall erupted in screams and shouts, and Sean turned quickly to look out over the Lords. Decker was on her feet, trying to fight her way through her row to get to the aisle. She looked at Sean with a snarl on her face. Sean raised his arm and aimed his stunner. Decker smiled, and before he could engage her with the stunner she exploded in a bright flash. The shock wave pushed the Emperor away from the dais, then something hit him in the head. He was wondering what it was when everything started to fade out around him. He heard Jennifer’s voice, first panicked, then calm as the physician in her took over. He smiled, knowing he was in good hands, wondering about what had happened to the rest of the Ministers of the Lords, when darkness enfolded him in an embrace.

  Chapter Eight

  We have them right where we want them. Quote from Admiral Gwendolyn Montgomery, Battle of the Frog Nebula, after the Lasharans had destroyed her right wing.

  THE DONUT, OCTOBER 30TH, 1000.

  Lucille didn’t recognize the main control room of the Donut. With the influx of military personnel the chamber was no longer her own. She still had people stationed here, all of whom had been called up into active duty with the Fleet. The rest of the stations had been taken by regular military personnel, and two walls had been removed for the ongoing expansion of the facility.

  I’m surprised they haven’t called me up, thought the Director of the Donut Project. It was clear that the giant station was now a military facility. Ten gate rooms had been opened, though not all the gates in them were active. She had visited one of those rooms, which until a couple of months ago had been empty. Now they were swarming with Spacers, Soldiers and Marines, heading in and out of wormholes, and to both exits of the large chamber. Help desks were set up in the central length of the room, and the offices overlooking the room were all occupied by the military.

  Not really what we planned, thought the scientist as she watched a holo image of a convoy of superfreighters approaching the station. There were some civilian companies that had started to occupy parts of the station. Mostly defense contractors and ship building interests. But it was clear that now the station was considered primarily a military asset, and was being defended as such.

  “We’re ready, Doctor,” said one of her formerly civilian techs, manning a console that monitored open wormhole gates. A holo above his station showed a large wormhole gate floating a hundred thousand kilometers from the station. It looked like a mirror in a frame, with the characteristic triangles of grabber units on the corners and the midpoint of each side. Another holo showed a duplicate of the gate in orbit around the black hole. In the background were the images of the huge station known as the Central Docks, and a large number of warships.

  “Then send the signal,” she said, anxious to get the process going.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the tech, pushing the down on his console. An alert light went on overhead, along with flashing signals along the walls. Strobes on the gate itself flashed, strengthening from the normal look out lights that were always on.

  “Duke Margath is signaling they are ready,” called out one of the military techs.

  The holo view of the far gate switched to a hyper VI battleship sitting motionless in space. In moments it started to accelerate slowly forward, a small burst that got the ship moving at a mere quarter of a kilometer per second. The view showed the ship from the stern, and the approaching mirror surface of the wormhole gate. There was a flash of light as the bow of the ship touched the mirror, which rippled like water. At the same moment the surface of the gate orbiting the black hole flas
hed, then rippled, then the bow of the ship started to emerge. At its current velocity the twenty-five hundred meter length of the ship took ten seconds to traverse the wormhole.

  “We’re getting telemetry from the ship,” called out another tech. “All appears to be normal. All crew made it through.”

  Cheering erupted through the room. Doctor Yu let herself smile. It would take several hours for all the data to be crunched, and the ship had only come through with a skeleton crew. But based on their experience with the personal and cargo gates, the three hundred people who had come through, all volunteers who could expect a promotion for their service, would be fine.

  Two hours later it was confirmed that all was well with the Duke Margath, her crew, and all the sensitive electronic and biological systems they had transported aboard her. Now we just need to come up with a more efficient manner of creating negative matter, she thought, the true bottleneck to ship gate production. Especially since the military had cut down on their shipments from other production facilities. When Yu had asked why she was being shorted they used the common answer of need to know. Which meant they had another project going that was considered important. But as important as ship gates?

  Later that day no one on the station was talking about ship gates, or anything else of military significance. All thoughts were on the attempted assassination attempt on the Emperor which had resulted in the permanent deaths of sixty-four members of the Lords and one from the Commons. Over three hundred others had their life functions terminated, but had been repaired and resurrected. There was a lot of speculation about the assassins, one of whom had been captured, the other having killed herself by detonating a bomb within her body. Countess Judy Decker had been identified as the second obliterated assassin, though no one could come up with a reason for a suicide bombing by a Member of the Lords.