They would get these bastards if not for me, thought Jennifer through her befuddled mind. But Imperial Security and Police would be afraid of hurting her.
The car lurched to a stop, something from the expressions of the kidnappers had not been unexpected. They opened up the floor of the car with a laser, while one of the women strapped Jennifer into a lift harness. As soon as the floor was opened they were dropping down the shaft, past the ground floor and into the basements and subbasements. They forced the lift doors open and poured into a room that was already occupied by a half dozen of what had to be their compatriots. They wrapped her in a suit that covered her head, what she recognized as a covering that would prevent her implants from interacting with the capital computer systems. Making her impossible to track.
Jennifer was not sure how they were leaving the building, only that there was a hole in a wall, and then a downward slanting tunnel, then a car of some kind that swept them away. She had no idea how long they traveled, only that to her time sense it seemed a very long time. There was no way to know where the room was located that they brought her to. She was strapped to a chair, a needle was pushed into her arm and moments later her mind was clear.
“We’ve got the whore,” said a voice that had to be talking into a com system.
The woman who had played patient knelt in front of her. “Now we see how important you are to the Emperor,” said the woman with a smile. “For your sake I hope you are very important, or you won’t be leaving here alive.”
And then the woman was gone, and Jennifer was left alone in a featureless room. Please, get me out of this. As she had that thought she wasn’t sure it was aimed at God, or at her lover. She had a feeling that Sean would go through hell to get her back. She was sure that these people who had snatched her from the hospital were counting on that. And she was not sure if that would be good for the other trillion beings in the Empire.
*
“Dammit, I want her found,” yelled Sean at the holos over his desk that showed the heads of his various security agencies. “How in the hell did they pull something like that off, anyway?”
“I take full blame, your Majesty,” rumbled the deep voice of Lord T’lisha, a hangdog look on his crocodilian face.
“I don’t care about assigning blame,” growled the Emperor, nodding toward the big Phlistaran. “Not at this time. I just want her found, and found alive.” He looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up to the trio of faces that were looking back with shamed expressions. “How many people did we lose?”
“I lost three Marines,” said Lady Hannah, Minister of War and retired Marine. “We really didn’t expect particle beams to be used against us.”
“And you, Lord T’lisha?”
“Nine Secret Service agents, and one IIB man,” said the Phlistaran, almost choking on the words.
Sean nodded, not really knowing what to say. The big Crococentauroids looked like the most fearsome creatures in the Galaxy, but they had big hearts, especially where friends and subordinates were concerned.
“I have my best people working on it, your Majesty,” said Ekaterina Sergiov. “We will find them.”
“But will you find them before they harm her?” asked Sean through gritted teeth.
“I hope so, your Majesty,” said T’lisha, bowing his great head. “But we can guarantee nothing.”
No, thought Sean, shaking his head. Not even the safety of my love.
“They will contact us, your Majesty,” continued the Minster of Security. “There is no other reason to kidnap the Doctor other than to get leverage on yourself. But I am afraid what they ask may be more than you are willing to grant.”
And how much is that? thought Sean. My life. I would give them nothing that would hurt the Empire, but does that include myself? “Just find her,” he said, turning back toward the holos. “We’ll figure out what we can and can’t do after we accomplish that.”
Sean dismissed the chiefs and turned toward the door leading out onto the deck. The Marine guards rendered rifle salutes and started to follow him until he waved them back. He walked out onto the deck, willing the lights to dim until he stood in shadows. He looked up at the sky, at the glorious display of the heavens. There were several glowing nebula up there, if the scientists were to be believed from supernovas that shouldn’t have occurred. Some of the nearer stars blinked, until he realized those were the strobes of security patrols, which had been tripled since the news of Jennifer’s abduction.
Sean let himself get lost in the real stars, nearby clusters and gas clouds glowing. He thought of all he had lost in the last year. His father, his mother, his brothers, and their families. He started to sob, feeling the tears rolling down his face and the breath catching in his chest. There were night vision devices watching him, and at the moment he really didn’t care what they saw.
Why aren’t you still here, father? he thought through his sobs. Why didn’t this crisis come during your rule? You were so much more prepared, as was Dimitre. Why did you have to leave this mess in my lap?
Sean stood for an hour, staring at the heavens, wondering if his mother and father looked down on him. After a while the tears stopped coming, and he squared his shoulders and went back into the residence, back to the work of the Empire. And in his mind he saw the representative faces of those who had kidnapped his love, those from the security cameras that had zeroed in on them in the hospital hall. And he swore by the spirits of his father and mother, and all the Emperors before, that those who perpetrated this outrage would die. No matter what else happens, he thought as he sat at his desk. They will die.
*
UNKNOWN LOCATION, JULY 5TH, 1001.
“We are a dying people,” said Klorasof, waving a pair of tentacles in the air. “But we have no desire to complete our demise at this time.”
“But the species you have raised up in this region are in danger,” said Xavier Jackson, wondering if he was really getting anywhere with these creatures. I’ve got to stay on them, no matter what. “Would you abandon all of the species in the region to these monsters.”
“They are not monsters,” said the Ancient, his eyes focusing on the human. “They are mistaken in their philosophy. That does not make them monstrous. And besides, we are very weak.”
“Then give us your tech so we can fight them.”
“Your species is not mature enough for our technology. Not yet. Maybe in ten thousand years.”
“In a hundred years we will be gone,” exclaimed Jackson, gesturing with his open hands. “And all your precious children will be slaves of the Ca’cadasans.”
“And eventually they too will fade away,” said Klorasof, giving a couple of tentacle whips that Jackson had come to recognize as impatience. “Or they will make an error that wipes them from the Universe.”
Jackson turned away, to look at the space shown around the room sized holo they occupied. He was in one of their ships, cruising through space near the center of the Empire. And there was no way they could be detected by any known technology of his primitive people, unless the Ancients wanted them to be.
“Could you return me to my people?” asked Jackson, turning back to the alien. “If my people are going to go down fighting, I wish to go down with them.”
“I am sorry, Xavier Jackson. You know of our existence, and cannot be allowed contact with other humans. Even if you were mind wiped of all knowledge of us, your reappearance would beg too many questions.”
That’s OK, thought Jackson, looking at the view of the Galaxy around him. That gives me more opportunities to change your mind.
Chapter Twenty-two
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. John F. Kennedy.
LASHARAN HOMEWORLD, JULY 6TH THROUGH 7TH, 1001.
Baggett thought the world they were approaching looked beautiful, like all living worlds. A little more brown in the mix, wide expanses of scrub deserts across the continents. Still, the blue
of oceans and white of clouds softened the globe.
“It’s time, sir,” called out his adjutant, Captain Corilla Kone.
Baggett sent back the acknowledgement and walked from his cabin, heading for the lift. Colonel Patrik Johansson came out of his cabin at the same time and threw an abbreviated salute at his CO. Johansson was the assistant brigade commander, and would be going down in the first wave. The Colonel was wearing his combat undersuit, same as the Brigadier, a skin tight garment of heavy material that was a combination of body sensor, protective cushion and repairable nanoskin.
“What did you think of the prep?” asked Baggett of his XO, walking into the waiting lift.
“It looked sufficient,” said the Colonel, who would be leading the first two battalions of the brigade to the surface. “And I have to assume it was anything but.”
Baggett nodded his head as the lift panel showed the progress of their descent to the prep bay where the first battalion was getting ready. He thought about the show Fleet had put on for them as their contingent was still hours from insertion. Hundred million ton battlestations turning into plasma, the shower of their larger bits burning in the atmosphere. Some hits on the Fleet heavy units, a couple of escorts destroyed. But the firepower differential was so overwhelmingly in their advantage, with tech thirty or more years advanced over that of the Lasharans.
And those stations, those ships, just blowing up for no reason, he thought with a smile. The Lasharans couldn’t have known what was happening to them, as masses of antimatter appeared aboard their vessels and things simply blew up. Now the bombardment force was in orbit, tossing kinetics at any likely target on the surface, while acting as targets themselves, trying to entice the enemy to fire on them so those batteries wouldn’t be around to take on the landing. They were catching a little more hell from the shore batteries, mostly because they were masked before they opened fire, so essentially got in a free shot. That was normally their only shot. And how many of them are saving themselves for us? he thought. They have to know we’re planning a landing.
The door to the lift opened and the two senior ranking men bounded onto the deck, while the officers and NCOs in the huge chamber yelled out commands for their men and women to come to attention. They lined the center of the football field sized deck, in platoons arrayed in four squares into companies, a small command section standing to the front. There were four companies in the line, with a platoon sized battalion command section in front of them. And directly in the center the oversized company formation that was part of the Brigade command, control and support section.
All were wearing the two and a half meter tall armored suits that were their weapons. The suits cost over ten million Imperials each, while the training and linkages for the human inside added another million to the cost. Baggett did a quick computation and came up with over eleven billion Imperials standing in this one room. Probably closer to thirteen, with accessories and advanced training, he thought.
He started his review at the Brigade command section, feeling dwarfed by the suits, which were all set to a silver reflective appearance for the inspection, though they could imitate just about anything in the spectrum. A couple of the squads of suits were even larger, specialized antiaircraft and anti-armor versions. Next was the battalion command platoon, and then onto the companies.
Each company had three rifle platoons and a support unit, all with more or less the same compliment of soldiers. The rifle platoons had mostly standard suits, with one command and control and one heavy weapons unit for each squad. The support platoon had about half heavy weapons suits.
“You ready to go, Dagni?” he asked the battalion CO, Lt. Colonel Thorwaldsdottir.
“Ready to kick some tall skinny red ass,” said the smiling woman, her face plate retracted so she could talk face to face with her CO.
“Well, kill skinnies and break things,” said Baggett with a smile. “And try to bring as many back as you can, yourself included.”
“Will do, sir,” said the blonde haired woman who had been in the army longer than her commander. She gave a crisp salute, her armor encased arm moving smoothly into position. “I always aim to bring my own ass home, since it means so much to me.”
Baggett returned the salute and headed for the next compartment, while Colonel Johansson headed for the armory to get into his armor. Behind him the heavy infantry troopers snapped to attention, then started to file out of the room to their launch facilities.
A long corridor led to one of the armored battalion’s ready rooms. It was filled with a company of heavy tanks and their escorting light armored platoon. The one thousand ton heavies dominated their one hundred ton scouts, and with twenty two of the monsters in the room, there was barely room for the crewmen to form for inspection. Baggett walked in front of each tank, looking closely at the light armor they wore over their skinsuits. Anything that got through their tank’s armor would probably kill them regardless of the suits, but if they had to bail, it could mean the difference between living and dying. Each of the six crew members of the first tank looked ready, as did those of the second, and so on down the line. Next were the seven light tanks, each with four crew standing to their fronts.
“Deployment in ten minutes,” shouted out a voice over the intercom.
Baggett returned the salute of the armored battalion commander, who would be going in on the second wave along with the Brigadier and his team, then shook the man’s hand. The crews started to climb in their vehicles as the Brigadier walked toward the exit, stopping to take a last look at the outer wall of the chamber, which would open to let the vehicles out into space. As soon as the crews were aboard their vehicles the floor sections retracted and another two hundred tons of attachment moved up and mated with the armored behemoths, making them essentially assault shuttles for the first part of the mission.
The Brigadier headed for his own team ready room, where the other fifty members of his command group were already suited up. His own command and control unit waited for him with open arms, literally, as well as open legs and torso. As soon as his body was seated into the front half of the suit the rear half closed up, and within moments where there had been seams there was now unitary armor.
There was a moment of discomfort as the sanitary connections were made, then a few stings as the medical connections pushed through the skin. Baggett could feel the motion sensors press into his skinsuit, and the pop of the hardwired connector sliding into his occipital port. The link through his implants came on at the same time, giving him multiple connections to the suit. Now he could move the suit, or the suit move him, depending on the need or circumstances.
He turned in the suit as the HUD came up. The crystalline matrix batteries were at full, all weapons fully loaded. The batteries would continue to absorb power from the ship’s system until he left, ensuring that he went into battle with a full energy load. He brought up another screen, projected directly onto the visual centers of his brain, and watched the take from the ship.
Particle beams and lasers were continuing to come up from the planet, striking glowing spots on the electromag screens of the bombardment force. One blast got through, and a light cruiser started gushing atmosphere into space. The hull sealed in an instant, and the light cruiser cycled shots from its laser rings and particle beam projectors back at the enemy.
Kinetic rounds plunged into the atmosphere, moving so fast they were only a flash as they hit the gas envelope, followed by another flare as they hit the ground. Mushroom clouds thrust into the stratosphere. It looked like a vid more than reality. The only thing missing are the rumbling sounds, thought the Brigadier.
The first assault ship inserted, stopping a thousand kilometers above the surface and moving over the planet, its grabbers keeping it right above the same point. First to leave the craft were the stingships, craft configured for atmospheric flight and ground attack. In less than a minute there were over a hundred of the attack craft knifing into the atmosphere, glowing dot
s of heat. Here and there one exploded, hit by ground fire, and the remaining craft started evasive maneuvers. Another assault ship slid into place and a hundred more stingships were on their way.
Baggett switched his view from visual to electromag emission, and the HUD exploded with a thousand different kinds of static. Ground generated static, fleet static, static from the emp blasts of exploding warheads or the hits of kinetic rounds. It was having the desired effect of blurring the targeting solutions of the enemy weapons. It was having the same effect on the human systems, but in Baggett’s mind it was worth the tradeoff. Anything that allowed the Army to get its boots on the ground with minimal casualties was fantastic in his way of thinking.
The first assault ship started spitting out insertion capsules. A little over half of them contained a heavy infantry trooper, nestled in a bubble of heat shields and electromag field projectors. They were almost half the mass of the suited trooper, and projected holographic images while absorbing or distorting incoming sensor signals. There were many decoys as well, mimicking a manned capsule in every respect, with the exception of a slightly lesser sensor absorbing/reflecting field. They were picked up just a bit easier than the manned capsules. Not by much, and not enough to make an enemy think they were anything but genuine insertion capsules. Dozens flared and burned before they reached the atmosphere, doing their duty. Scores more went up in the upper atmosphere, as well as a half dozen of the manned capsules and their cargoes. Panicked shouts came over the com, soldiers who knew they were dead moments before it actually happened.
Baggett cringed as he listened to those few calls. No one wanted to die in combat. And no one especially wanted to die while helplessly wrapped up in a carrying capsule, before they even had a chance to fight back. He could imagine how those troopers felt, locked down and praying that they would somehow be overlooked, and probably feeling some bit of guilt that their prayers might lead to the death of a comrade instead of them.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 35
