“One could wish,” said Mei, glaring at the plot, then looking back at the take from the system wormhole. Ships there were starting to move away from the planet, aware from the bursts of the catastrophic translations that something bad had happened at the edge of the system. “Everyone execute escape plan.” And if we’re lucky, some of these assholes might get wind of us, and follow us into another trap.
*
SESTIUS SURFACE, APRIL 15TH, 1001.
“But, they’re leaving,” said Montano Montero, looking up at the Fleet Captain in charge of the Naval Commandos on Sestius IV. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“So it would seem to your people,” said Captain Clifford Takamba, standing in front of the Steadholder in his skin suit. “But if they’re not on the surface of the planet, we can’t get at them.”
“I can see that being a problem for the Navy and Marines,” said the older man who was once Force Marine Recon in a past life, before he decided to settle down and start a family kingdom of his own. “And you signed up for it, just as I did when I was in the service. But I’ve gotten a little tired of burying my children and grandchildren.”
“Well, hide while you can,” said the Captain, the scowl deepening on his face. “They’ll still be up there, scanning the surface and hitting everything they can.”
“Good luck with that,” said the Steadholder, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve lost anyone from bombardment. We know this world, and they aren’t going to get a glimpse of us through that jungle. I can damn well guarantee that. As long as we aren’t mixing it up with them in the jungle, I’m happy.”
“Well, my people are fucking useless on the surface without someone to fight,” said the Captain. “I’m guessing they will be pulling us out and sending us somewhere where we can kill Cacas and break their shit.”
“And if they come back down?”
“You have the wormhole link back to Fleet. Just give them a call. I won’t guarantee that they will come running, but there’s a good chance.
“I thought you were out here to protect us,” said Montero, getting angry.
“We are out here, First Sergeant, as you well know, to protect the Empire, and its citizens in general. The same thing you were doing when you were a Marine. We can’t afford to stand and die while trying to save everyone. We have to pick and choose our fights. And sitting on the ground while we get hit from above is not a fight we would choose.”
Montero sat there for a moment, knowing he was not going to get what he wanted, a continuous Fleet presence on this world. “We’ll do what we can while you are gone,” he told the Captain. “And I’ll continue to feed you what intelligence I can gather, for what it’s worth.”
“And we appreciate that, sir,” said the Captain. “I will make sure we leave everything we can, even if we have to lose it. Just stay low, and you should make it.”
And what other fairy tales are you going to tell me, thought the Patriarch of the Montero clan.
“Grandfather,” said Franco Montero, one of the old man’s favorites. “Come quick.”
“What do you have, Grandson,” said the Patriarch, looking over at the Captain.
“We have captured one of the demons,” said the excited young man. “We have him in the camp by the river.”
“You have him where?” asked Montero, a feeling of dread coming over him.
“At the river camp. Don’t worry, Grandfather. We have taken all the beast’s equipment from him, and made sure everything was deactivated.”
“Did you scan his body?” asked the Captain, a worried expression on his face.
“His body?” asked the young man with a confused expression.
The ground rumbled underneath, and rock dust fell from the ceiling. “Down, you idiot,” yelled Montero, grabbing his grandson’s shoulder and pulling him to the floor, then dragging him under the table. The Captain was already there, making for a crowded refuge. The ground rumbled again, and Montero prayed for his family, and then said a quick prayer that the enemy did not strike this cavern complex, where their planetary wormhole was based.
It took some minutes for the rumbling to stop. After it had died down Montero was on his feet and heading down the long tunnel to the surface. When he got there he saw a pair of Naval Commandos, standing and staring down the mountain to the valley below. That valley was a hell of burning vegetation and smoke. A quartet of mushroom clouds rose into the air, marking where the kinetic weapons had come down. And they had taken the camp that contained a son, two grandchildren and a dozen friends.
“Madre de Dios,” said Montero, crossing himself. “It was a trap.”
“We’ve been seeing some of that recently,” said the Captain, coming out of the cave to stand beside him. “They are sacrificing their deadwood as they leave, hoping to target some of our camps.
“And there is nothing we can do about it,” said the old man, tears streaming down his face. “Nothing at all.”
“Just stay alive,” said the Captain, putting his arm around the old man’s shoulders. “Just stay alive, and wait for the day when you can hit them again. It’s coming. It may take a while, but I’m sure that it’s coming.”
*
CENTRAL DOCKS AND JEWEL, APRIL 30TH, 1001.
“Most impressive,” said Sean, walking onto the flag bridge of the Augustine I. My flag bridge, he thought, looking over the scores stations around the central holo tank, at thirty by twenty meters twice the size of any currently deployed. Most of those stations were com boards. The dreadnaught had been built to be a command and control ship, though she was also the most effective fighting platform built to date. At twenty-five million tons she was of a size with the big Ca’cadasan ships. With her wormhole missile magazines she was more capable than several of those vessels.
“We’ll be working her up the next month, your Majesty, then deploying with the Fleet,” said Captain Javier Montoya, the commander of the vessel. Sean had toured the command bridge just minutes before, then took the lift through the distance separating the two control centers. CIC was located over a kilometer to the stern from the ship bridge, so that command and control could not be taken out until the ship was critically damaged.
I hope the Fleet still has a presence in Sector Four by that time, thought the Monarch, thinking back to his briefing that morning. Just like that Ca’cadasan Brigade Commander told me. They hate us. And any planet with predominantly Earth life is fair game to be wiped out.
“I have much to do here in the Capital, Captain,” said Sean, walking over to what would be his chair and plopping down in it. A big improvement over command of the laser B ring of Sergiov, he thought, running a hand over the armrest. He looked back at the expectant officer. “I will come aboard as soon as you have deployed. If that is alright.”
“Of course, your Majesty,” said the Captain, trying to keep the worried expression off his face and failing. “We have the wormhole gate, of course. So you can come and go as you please.”
And it would please all my officers if I just stayed at the capital and let them run things, he thought, giving the Captain his best political smile. But I still intend to be where the action is. I intend to be remembered as the Warrior Emperor who threw out the ancient enemy.
Sean sat there for a second, thinking about the new command structure he intended to implement. Lenkowski and Mgonda would both have their own fleets, while the new carrier force would be organized into a strike fleet. And he would control it all from the bridge of this ship. If we ever get those damned attack ships to work. That was a basic problem with R and D, especially during wartime, when things were accelerated. Sometimes the things you wanted just didn’t materialize when you wanted them. And sometimes unexpected things were discovered, at times things that were of more importance than what you were initially looking for.
I have to remember my history, thought Sean, thinking of the almost impossible situation his Empire faced. Like the Russians in the Second World War, I must trade territory for t
ime, as long as I don’t trade so much territory that we can’t recover. And like the Russians, I must use the forces I have, and not what I wish I had.
“I will leave you to it, Captain. I know I have taken enough of your time.”
“It was a pleasure, your Majesty,” said the officer, bowing.
“I’ll let you get away with the little political lies, Captain,” said Sean with a laugh, walking toward the hatch, which opened at his approach with a swish. “But remember to be truthful in the things that matter. It does me no good to hear the things people think I want to hear. I need to base my decisions of facts.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the Captain, his face reddening. “I will be sure not to mince my words. Now, your Majesty, would you please let me get back to preparing this ship for deployment?”
“That’s more like it,” said Sean with a smile. “I would tell you to call me Sean, but I know that would be a losing battle.” And bad for discipline, according to my Admirals, who I also can’t get to call me Sean.
The Emperor took a last walk to his quarters, about a hundred meters down the corridor from the flag bridge. It was a comfortable quarters, with all the accouterments expected of a Fleet Admiral’s domain. Originally it had been planned to make his quarters much larger, but Sean had nixed that idea. For affairs of state, which the ship might be called on to perform, there were many VIP quarters, as well as a huge dining room.
Sean looked in on his bedroom, then the bath, both of which had added feminine touches for Jennifer. And of course there was a servant’s quarters attached, just the one, same as an Admiral would have. What he hadn’t been able to stop was the addition of quarters for his Secret Service Detail, along with a tactical control center for them. He had thought that his Marine detail would be enough, but the Secret Service Detail Chief had disagreed.
He heard a sound, and that was soon followed by a small furry head looking around the side of the couch. Sean smiled at the kitten, then sat on the couch and stayed still for a moment, waiting for the feline to approach him. The kitten gathered its courage and came bouncing out.
“You look like Satin,” said Sean in a coaxing voice, putting his hand down so the kitten could approach and sniff. The kitten took a quick sniff, then bumped his head against the hand. Sean scooped him up before he could move and deposited the small body in his lap. Definitely a Himalayan, he thought, stroking the soft fur and looking at the markings.
“There you are,” said a soft voice, and Sean found himself looking up into the face of a middle aged man in the uniform of Palace Staff. “Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I didn’t realize that you were here. Excuse me.”
“That’s quite alright. Your name is John, is it not?”
“John Jacobs, your Majesty. And it pleases you, I will be your valet while you are aboard.”
“It pleases me very much. And this is your beast?”
“No, your Majesty. It is yours. A gift sent by a Duchess Lei, I do believe.”
“Has he been named yet?”
“No, your Majesty. I thought I should leave that to you. He’s been fully linked and conditioned for shipboard deployment.”
Sean looked down at the big blue eyes looking up at him, feeling the purr under his hand. Animals had to be conditioned and given an implant to make it safe for them to be on a ship. Some areas were off limits, and their implants would not allow them to visit those places. And they were conditioned to go to sleep in an instant, so they could safely be put into protective storage during battle or high gee maneuvers above the capacity of the compensators.
“I’ll call him Killer,” said Sean, giving the cat a last stroke, then putting him back on the floor. “And he’ll be OK here when I’m not around?”
“Of course, your Majesty. He will be spoiled rotten when you return.”
Sean walked out of his quarters with a big smile on his face. That was very kind of the Duchess to send me a kitten of Satin’s breed. I wonder if he comes from the same lineage?
The last stop was the central hanger, as the wormhole gate had yet to be installed. It was double the size of the hangar on a superbattleship, and housed twice the number of shuttles. There were four more hangars aboard, each just a little smaller than this one, and two dedicated hangars for attack ships. It was hoped that some of the new inertialess attack craft could be based there. If we ever get them working.
Sean took the controls of the shuttle himself. He was rated for it, and thought it a good idea to keep his skills up to date. And he wanted to take a look at the newest ships before he had to return to the deal making with lawmakers that was so much of his job description. He flew past a row of battleships, the standard variety, hyper VI. He had almost ordered that all new ships be constructed to hyper VII standard, until it had been explained to him that there were not enough super metals in the pipeline to make all the new shipping capable of those speeds. So they would still be building a lot of VI ships for the next couple of years.
I have the fleet I have, not the one I want, he thought as he passed by some battle cruisers, these all to VII standard. He thought about that for a moment, wondering what he could do with his slower fleet against the enemy, and came up with the same answer as always. Wormholes.
*
OPEN SPACE IN THE SUPERSYSTEM, MAY 5TH, 1001.
The tracking stations had done what was once thought to be impossible, following the motion of an object that was technically traveling faster than light. It did that because the multiple stations could catch a glimpse of the light reflecting off the mirrored surface of the negative matter that made up the bubble around the inertialess craft. There were a hundred stations on the circuit, all transmitting through grav wave to the station that controlled it all, where computers would calculate the speed of the craft.
They saw it go over the speed of light, then back down, until it was at the exact same velocity it had been when it had raised the negative matter bubble. The bubble shimmered for a moment, then faded as it was sucked back into the containment fields that stored it between uses.
And from out of that bubble came the test ship, transmitting all of its sensor information to the nearby station on subspace com. Vice Admiral Chuntao Chan breathed a sigh of relief when that ship appeared, and with it the face of the test pilot over the com.
“I think we’ve solved the problem,” said Doctor Corilla Taylor, smiling at the pilot. “How are you feeling, dear?”
“I feel fine, Doctor Taylor. I’m just glad it’s over.”
“So,” said the scientist, turning to look at the Admiral who was easily her equal in intelligence, if not in expertise in this one field. “That’s eight trials in a row. I think we’ve solved it. Who would have thought that inertia would be the problem with our inertialess drive.”
“That’s because we don’t have a truly inertialess drive,” said the Admiral, thinking of all the lives they had lost before some junior tech on the project had made the suggestion that changed everything. It had turned out that the negative matter more or less isolated the ship from the effects of the positive Universe. There was no inertia on the object encased in the bubble. But if they came back into normal space, meaning they had dropped the inertial bubble, they instantaneously gained what inertia they had bypassed. Which was more than most, read as any, material object could handle. It also worked the other way, strangely enough. If a ship came out of inertialess drive at a lower velocity than it had entered then it gave up inertia, which seemed to make no sense. Until one saw the ship come apart as it sped up to regain that inertia.
“How many more trials do you want before you sign off on it?” asked the Admiral, thinking of those big carriers that were just waiting on this development.
“I would like at least fifty,” said Taylor, concentrating as if she were doing the math in her head. “Preferably a hundred. And I can’t say anything other than the ships have to come back into normal space at exactly the same velocity as they entered the bubble. We have some
people working on some ideas to make it otherwise, but it’s not a sure thing. Even if we can work it, it probably won’t be that much of an increase or decrease.”
“Is there a mass limit on the process?” asked the Admiral, her own mind pondering possibilities. “I mean, how much mass can the bubble enclose?”
“No limit that we can tell,” said the scientist. “I guess you could put a planet in one if you had enough negative matter. Not that I think we will ever be able to make that much negative matter, or find a way to contain it in a magnetic field. Why?”
“Just a thought,” said the Admiral, not really wanting to share that thought with the scientist, who didn’t have a need to know at this time. “Just a thought. Get on those test runs. I want the results by the end of the week. Then hopefully we can start deploying this tech.”
“Won’t the limitations have some adverse effects on the way you use them?”
“We’ll just have to do what we can within those constraints,” said the Admiral with a frown. “Just like every other tech we’ve ever developed. We can’t always pick the way the Universe works. We can only play the hand it deals us.”
*
CAPITULUM, JEWEL , MAY 6th, 1001.
“The Archduke is here to see you, Madame Prime Minister,” came the voice over the intercom.
Prime Minister Countess Haruko Kawasaki looked up from the message she was composing to the other leaders of Parliament, asking for a face to face meeting at the capital. She was sure that Speaker of Commons Laura Goolsby and Chief of Scholars Mohamed Ishner would be happy to take the short trip through the wormhole for a private discussion. They had been easy to work with since she had assumed the office. The Leader of Lords, Archduke Gregor Stoyanovich, had been anything but cooperative.
Probably because he thinks he should be holding my position, she thought, holding her answer for a moment so the Archduke would not think her too anxious so see him, when actually the opposite was true. Well, tough shit if he wants the job. The Emperor gave it to me. And when I don’t want it anymore I’m sure he’ll find someone other than that dick to give it to.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 28
