MASSADARA SPACE, JANUARY 10TH THROUGH 12TH, 1001.
“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard,” said Lieutenant SG Walter Ngovic, the Tactical Officer.
“Vice Admiral Mtwambe gave me the order herself,” said Captain Bryce Suttler, the commander the Sea Stag. Though she really didn’t seem so sure about it herself, he thought, knowing that the orders came from even higher up the chain of command. Perhaps to the very top.
“Just what the hell are they sending through?” asked the Tactical Officer, monitoring the wormhole gate they had offloaded from the ship. Right now it was placed directly behind a Plutino, where it couldn’t be observed by the station or the ships around it. The station was a half a light hour away. The stealth attack ship had crept to this point over a two day period, and was now assembling what looked to them like a ship gate.
“They just said something big,” said the Captain, watching as more supports came through the wormhole, then the robots grabbed them and added them to what was already there. “And I kind of like the idea of us going back home.”
Following the supports were cylinders of negative matter. These were mated to the supports and emptied into the magnetic field contained within. More supports were added, and the wormhole expanded. It was still far short of the square, six kilometers on a side, that was the template on the computer screen.
“How are the Cacas?” he asked Ngovic, who was monitoring the remote feeds.
“Sitting fat and sassy,” said the junior officer with a smile. “Uh oh,” he said, the smile leaving his face.
“What do you have?” asked Suttler, moving over to the tactical station and looking at the holo above the board.
“Eight enemy ships, heading this way,” said the Tactical Officer. “At current profile they will be past us in three hours. That’s if they don’t decel.”
“Don’t see why they should,” said Suttler. “They can shoot by and engage us when they see us. Wonder what tipped the off?”
“I’m not sure it matters, sir. The gate should be completed in two hours. And when something big comes through, I’m not sure those enemy ships will be a threat.”
“Let’s hope,” said Suttler, watching the gate expand yet again. “We’ll know when we move the gate into position.” That would be the time of greatest danger. The plan called for the gate to be maneuvered so it was pointed at the enemy station, then moved again to point insystem. Sea Stag would be part of that maneuvering element. Which meant if the plan went wrong they would be destroyed along with the gate.
“Nothing radiating in hyper,” called out the Sensor Officer, good news, at least for now. Later they might want more ships coming into the system and falling into the trap.
*
“I wish you would reconsider, your Majesty,” said Admiral Thomas Thompson, the commander of the First Battleforce of the Home Fleet. “We could still put you and your lady on a shuttle and shoot you out before we hit he wormhole. As long as you get to the hangar in the next ten minutes.”
“I have made up my mind, Admiral,” said Sean to the four star officer. “I could not be there at Cimmeria. I intend to be in the system for this strike. Of course, the attack is yours to command. I am just an observer.”
The Admiral gave him a sideways glance, and Sean was not sure the man believed him. But he had made the promise to himself that he would not interfere, that he would just watch.
“I wish I could convince you to stay behind, though,” he said to Jennifer, dressed in the same type of battle armor he himself was wearing.
“You’re going into a combat situation,” she said, giving him a serious look. “What kind of personal physician would I be if I didn’t accompany you.”
Sean shook his head. Secretly he was happy she was coming along. He wanted to be vindicated. If this plan worked there would be other strikes on Ca’cadasan bases, enough to let them know they did not own this space. And having her witness this triumph would be sweet. If we win. If we don’t, then maybe Samantha can do a better job. He had insisted that his regent stay behind. After all, they were dealing with wormholes here, still an unknown in many ways. None of his ships carried wormholes, so that concern was not there. But again, they had never tried anything like this before, and something bad could always happen.
“We go in ten minutes,” said the Admiral when the clock got down to that point. “We will hit the wormhole at point three c.”
The same speed as the trials, the Emperor thought, looking at the holo that showed the warships speeding toward the wormhole, spaced apart as the plan called for.
“The first two squadrons will be hitting the hole in five minutes,” the Admiral told the Monarch minutes later. “Any word from the system?” he asked the Com officer. The observing ship in the system would be sending signals through the hole by standard laser, where another vessel, sitting in front of the hole until the last moment, was retransmitting on subspace. So the flagship was getting the information about ten seconds after the fact.
“They report most of the enemy ships are heading toward them at point four c,” said the Com Officer. “Gate is in position.”
“So, they’ll be close to us when we come out, and won’t be able to jump to hyper when they see what they’re facing. Perfect.”
“They’ve got to be freaking, looking at the gate and wondering what the hell it is,” said Jennifer.
“Sea Stag reports the enemy is firing at the gate, and at them. Time to impact, fourteen minutes.”
“First two squadrons will be through in two,” said the Admiral. “With the next two through right after them.”
Sean nodded his head and said nothing, determined to play the observer in this scene.
*
“Missile impact in twelve minutes,” called out Ngovic, sweating over his board.
And he should be sweating, thought Suttler, staring at the plot, then the visual of the missiles as they had appeared seven minutes before. Unless something comes through from our side, and soon, we’re plasma.
And then they were there, three fifteen million ton battleships, moving away from the gate at point three c. Moments after they appeared they fired, cycling countermissiles at the incoming and offensive missiles at the enemy ships. There were eight of the enemy battleships, ten supercruisers and nine of the scouts, and the battle looked to be very one sided. Then three more battleships came through, then seconds later three more, then another three.
The battleships started to apply some side vector and spread out, and more kept coming, until the count was up to twenty-four. And then the first of the twenty million ton superbattleships came through, followed by another, then another, then a squadron of four battle cruisers. Another squadron of battle cruisers came through, followed by another squadron of battleships.
“Subspace com is coming through, sir,” said the Com Officer. The holo lit up, and the figure of a battle armored admiral, four stars on each shoulder, appeared. “Good work, Captain. In three minutes I want you to reorient the gate so that it points into the system. As close to aiming for the third planet as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” said Suttler, sitting straighter in his chair.
“We’re sending another fully armed stealth attack through. They will be mounting this wormhole after we are through and staying, while you go back with us. Good job, Captain.”
The holo faded for a moment, and then switched views, and a young man in golden battle armor, the eight star circle of the Emperor on each shoulder, took the Admiral’s place.
“And I want to thank you as well, Captain. For saving my life when I was in the system before. Come see me when we are back in the Home System.”
The holo went blank, leaving a view of the tactical plot showing more ships appearing, until there were over a hundred in the system.
“Turn the gate,” ordered the Captain, and his ship started to apply power while the gate’s grabbers also pulled the massive structure around. A minute after the gate was in plac
e more ships started to come on, their vector into the system. They started to release missiles as soon as they acquired targets. Soon the plot was filled with thousands of missiles heading toward the enemy force, and toward the enemy ships and installations insystem.
“Something big indeed,” said Suttler, now watching from the safest point in the system.
*
“What is that thing?” asked the Admiral who was station commander and the ranking Ca’cadasan in the Massadara system.
They were just seeing it come into view around the plutino. Which meant the ships he had sent that way after they picked up the faint graviton emissions of the suspected stealth vessel had seen the thing twenty some minutes before.
“Whatever it is, the ships will destroy it,” he said, just before the Tactical Officer called out that missiles were moving toward it.
“We’re picking up graviton emissions from near that object,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Consistent with large vessels at high acceleration. We’re picking up missile emissions as well.”
“By the Gods, the Great Admiral was right,” said the Admiral in charge. “That’s a wormhole gate. But how in the hells did they get it here?”
“Our own missile emissions are dropping off,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Now tracking forty enemy vessels. Three more appearing.”
“They’re taking them out with counters,” yelled out the Tactical Officer.
“Can we jump to hyper,” yelled the Admiral, looking over his command crew.
“Not a chance, my Lord,” said the Helm Officer. “We were not prepared for a jump to hyper. It will take three hours to build up the power for a jump.”
And we aren’t a warship. The only reason we have hypercapability is so we can move our base from place to place. “Prepare all defensive systems. As soon as you have a lock on those ships let loose with all offensive weapons. And that still won’t be enough. The two hundred million ton station carried a formidable defensive armament, but most of its missile magazines had been stripped bare to supply the fleet, which was running through weapons at a prodigious rate. Now they had only a couple of hundred offensive weapons. Colliers were on the way, which did them absolutely no good.
“When is that convoy due?” he asked, a sinking feeling in his chest.
“Today, my Lord,” said the Logistics Officer.
“Then it is lost as well,” said the Admiral.
“Shall we evacuate the noncombatants?” asked another officer.
The Admiral thought about it for a moment. There were now over two thousand females aboard, recently arrived from home. Many were already pregnant. And more would be coming with the convoy. “No. There is nowhere for them to go. They will shoot any shuttles we send inward out of space.” He looked over at the Com Officer. “Send a continuous graviton pulse with a warning. Let the convoy know what is waiting.”
“They won’t pick it up until they have begun stair stepping in. Probably too late to get away.”
“It is all we can do,” said the Admiral. “So we will do it.”
“Our ships are dropping off the plot,” said the Tactical Officer. “We’re losing our graviton reads.”
Which means they’re being destroyed by a larger enemy force, thought the Admiral. What else could it mean?
Moments later they had a visual on the wormhole gate, and a moment after that the scene was of enemy capital ships coming through, followed by more.
*
Sean was showing a feral smile as he watched the enemy ships coming apart under the missile fire of Home Fleet. The last time he had been in this system they had been outnumbered and outclassed. They were still outclassed, but the superiority of numbers was well in their favor.
He cringed inwardly as he watched several friendly battleships taking damage. One was hammered hard but was still operational, and would be able to make it back home through the wormhole. It didn’t take long for the overwhelming missile fire to take out the enemy force, leaving drifting fragments and clouds of plasma in its place. Any missiles that hadn’t engaged now shifted their vectors and headed for the station, while the battleships let loose a barrage at the primary target of the raid.
There were now over two hundred capital ships in the system, the only kind of vessel he had brought on this raid. They were hoping for a short but intense slugging match in which the survivability of lighter vessels would be in question. So the normal escorts had been left behind.
The second part of the force was firing into the system, releasing every missile they carried at something. The Emperor was determined to leave nothing of enemy manufacture in the space of this system. There were scores of enemy vessels, most of them freighters or troop transports of some kind, and orbital installations were being constructed around the planet. They would all be turned into wreckage.
The main force, over a hundred battleships and battle cruisers, clustered around the three superbattleships, were now decelerating so they could hover around the area of the station, hoping to ambush some more enemy shipping before bugging out.
Behind them the wormhole gate was again reorienting. When it had finished moving some big logistics ships came through, missile colliers with a resupply for the capital ships.
“One minute to missile impact on station,” called out the Flag Tactical Officer.
“I could almost feel sorry for them,” said Jennifer, hanging onto Sean’s arm.
“After all they have done to us,” said the Emperor, giving her a cold stare.
“I said almost. I wish we didn’t have to destroy. That’s not what I was trained to do. But we must destroy their incursion completely if we wish to survive.”
“I am depending on you to save my humanity,” said Sean, putting his arm around her and pulling her tight, armored suit to armored suit. “Right now I must be Shiva, but someday I will have to become Brahma again.”
The missile plots started to drop off the screen, and indication that they were hitting something, though they couldn’t tell without visual confirmation whether it was countermissiles or the station.
“They’re still sending out a warning signal,” said the Flag Com Officer.
More missiles fell off the plot, by the hundreds, then the emergency beacon weakened for a moment, then faded away completely. Then the missiles stopped dropping off the plot, and as they continued on into space they knew the station was gone.
Four minutes later they saw the pinpoint bright explosions of missiles being blown out of space by counters, then several hitting the station with enormous blasts as they transferred their kinetic energy into the massive structure. Then with a flash it was converted to plasma.
Three hours later the ships were coming back to the location of the station that they had overshot. It took several more hours to resupply the ships with missiles, then the colliers headed for the second group that was decelerating on a heading insystem, preparing to come back out.
*
Suttler watched his replacement come through the wormhole, the Grampus, another stealth attack of the same class as Sea Stag. He commed her captain, and was surprised when his old classmate at the Academy, Glenda McGowen, appeared in the holo.
“We’re transmitting all the data from our patrol to your ship,” said Bryce, looking at the woman they had all been sure would be a commodore by now. Still, her record as a Stealth Attack commander had been impressive, his being the only one more so because of recent events.
“Hopefully we’ll get some kills,” said the woman, a wide smile on her face. “We’ve been modified so we can load missiles through the wormhole after we’ve expended ours.”
“Just lay low for a while,” said Suttler, waving a finger in the air. “This is going to be a hornet’s nest when the Cacas get back here.”
“We’ll be careful,” said the other Captain, but from the look in her eyes he wasn’t sure she was being truthful. He saw an officer who was on a quest for glory, one that was likely to end badly for her and
her crew. “Now get back to the Home System,” she said. “Get some R and R before they send you back out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Suttler, rendering a mock salute. He turned to his Helmsman. “You heard the Captain. Let’s get back home.”
There was a strange feel going through the wormhole, as if an eternity had passed and they had been spread across the Universe. When they appeared on the other end their internal clocks showed that no time had passed at all, the transfer had been truly instantaneous to the point where organic life couldn’t tell the difference.
To their port side, at ten million kilometers, was the long ribbon of the Donut, thin in the distance. Beyond it was the distorted light of stars as shone around the heavy gravity lens of the black hole. Traffic control queried them, then sent them orders, and they headed for another wormhole several million kilometers outward. Another transition, just as disorienting as the first, and Suttler knew exactly where they were. Central Docks. In the Home System. And we need to throw a party for a safe return, and a clean sweep.
*
“We’re picking up ships moving in hyper,” called out the Flag Sensor Officer.
“How many?” asked the Admiral. He didn’t need to ask whose ships. Not in this system.
“It sounds like five of their capital ships, a dozen escorts, and fifty-three others,” said the Sensor Officer.
“I would like some prisoners from this batch,” ordered Sean. “From those logistics ships.”
“I thought the same,” said the Admiral. “How long till they translate from hyper?”
“Thirty-eight minutes,” said the officer.
“And they don’t have a clue that we’re here,” said the Admiral, smiling. “Prepare for engagement.”
The Fleet was ready, all ships within light minutes of the probable emergence point of the enemy ships, based on where they would have thought the station was. One of the superbattleships was generating a hyperwave signal as a beacon, mimicking that which the station would have made.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 23
