The tactical officer gave him a quick look of confusion. The male didn’t know why they were sitting there in one of the few functional warships in what was essentially a junkyard. It made no sense. If they were trying to scare the humans off, it had failed. The enemy was on the way in, with a force that could be overwhelming even if all the Ca’cadasan ships had actually been what they appeared to be.
“Missiles away,” said the tactical officer, sending several thousand more off in a staggered launch that simulated warships firing.
Many of the defensive sats had been attached to the hulls of a hundred ships, all hulks that really had no more firepower with the exception of some close in weapons systems. It helped with the illusion that this was actually a battle force.
“What are we trying to do, my Lord?” asked the executive officer, appearing on the side holo. “I keep trying to figure this out, and it make no sense.”
“Just do your job, exec. People higher than us have determined that this is what we need to do. So we do it.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said the exec.
Grassafa didn’t think the male had accepted the old ‘it’s orders, and we follow orders,’ explanation. He could go on questioning in his mind, as long as he didn’t question it out loud. If he did, he would have to be removed from his position.
It shouldn’t be long, thought the admiral, looking at the plot and filling in the line of no return in his mind. Once the stellar event was triggered it would take just over eight minutes for the photon storm to reach them. At that point the admiral would order the electromag shields dropped, letting the wave burn through quickly. It would be a mercy to everyone.
The scout force was starting to change its vector, but it wouldn’t get them to safety in time. And the battle force was still driving straight in, obviously afraid to mass launch at a force in close proximity to a planet they were determined to save. One missile hit could really mess up the planet, killing a continent sized land mass and sending quadrillions of tons of ejecta into the atmosphere. A strike in the ocean would generate kilometer high waves. Ten hits would kill the world, not even microbes surviving. So it made sense that they weren’t firing on his force. They were driving in to get into knife fight range, where they could hammer the enemy without the risk of hitting the living world.
A doomed world, thought the admiral, fighting off a slight shake. He had been raised to believe in the Gods and their commandments. And killing a living world was among the worst infractions in which a mortal could engage. But was he at fault if he didn’t initiate the action? His brain kept telling him no, he wasn’t. He was just the distraction. His hearts were another matter. They were screaming at him, telling him that he shouldn’t be involved in this. That he was facing an eternity of torment in the hell he no longer believed in, in his mind. The gut feeling, programmed in as a child, was still working on him, roiling his stomach.
I won’t have much longer to wait, he thought, looking at the plot again, doing the math in his head. In another couple of hours he would stand before his Gods, if they truly existed. What would he tell them? That he had obeyed his Emperor, their representative in the Universe. Or that he had followed his conscience and rebelled against that secular authority, following the edicts of the Church. He wasn’t sure how he would respond, only sure that if they did indeed exist, he would have that chance very soon.
* * *
“We have the gate open at this end, your Majesty. As soon as the other end is open we’ll start sending the first ships across.”
“Hold them outside the system when they get there, Admiral,” said Sean, still not sure that he was doing the right thing, but unwilling to take the chance. However, he was also unwilling to send more ships into a system that still might blow up in his face.
“We were just about ready to go into the three systems on our mission log,” said Len, his expression showing what he thought of the changing orders.
“I’m sorry, Len. The situation is shifting in Kallfer, and I don’t want us getting reamed because I don’t have the ships on hand.”
The admiral continued to glare out of the holo, and Sean knew what he was thinking. His two battle fleet commanders had advocated for having more ships involved in that mission, and cutting back on other operations until it was over. Sean and McCullom had agreed that with proper allocation of resources they could still forge ahead with every other operation they had planned. Since moving ahead and not suspending missions would shorten the war, that had been a major selling point of the whole deal.
Now they were shifting ships from Len back to the Supersystem net, then transiting to yet another gate ring, taking more time, until the delays added up. Someone had advocated moving ships from the home fleets, which would have cut down on some time, but Sean was unwilling to uncover the Donut or any of the major industrial systems for even a moment. The Cacas now had the tech to move a force by wormhole, attack a system, then set up their projector ships and blast all life around that star. Or simply set up a wormhole bomb over the habitable planet. Or hit them with relativity missiles and kill it that way. Either way, the forces to defend the inner Empire were in place, and he didn’t want to move them. Especially if all of this maneuvering at Kallfer was intended to make the Empire uncover something vital. Unlikely, but then an attack on the Donut and Jewel had been considered unlikely, until they had happened. To the Donut multiple times. That was the prime strategic industrial node in the Empire, something they couldn’t lose.
“We’ll get those ships back to you as soon as possible, Len. Most likely, they’ll just have to sit there for a couple of days and then come back to you.”
That sounded good in theory. The ships went through, they sat there, then they came back. The problem was, with only the one gate open, it would take up to thirty seconds to safely transit each ship through the gate. With a thousand ships that was almost nine hours. They could send them through faster, and had in fact often done that during a combat transit. It was a risk the Emperor didn’t want to take. Two ships colliding, such as one coming through and for some reason having to decel to avoid hitting something, then having another ship coming through and running up their ass, could cause thousands of casualties. If the threat was confirmed he might have pushed them. Since it wasn’t, he decided to play it safe.
“Very well, your Majesty. My staff will work out new timetables while we wait.”
Meaning I am causing you even more work that probably isn’t necessary, thought Sean, gritting his teeth. He didn’t like causing aggravation to his people, but he was he final arbitrator, and this was his decision. He could have taken the ships from Mgonda, but those would have to go through more than two transfers, going to a waypoint behind his more extended front, then back to the black hole system to transfer across an even greater distance than Len’s would to get to the proper wormhole.
Sean stared at the space where the holo had been for a moment, again second guessing himself. That was the problem with being a thinker. Always introspective, considering his own thoughts, it was easy to backtrack on decisions. He had to work hard to stay the course. It had been easy to stay the course with Kallfer, since the force there really couldn’t disengage before the enemy brought the hammer down. Now he would have to force himself to stick to the reinforcement plan.
“We have a report coming in from General Walborski,” came a call from his liaison officer. “The Cacas are starting an orbital bombardment of the planet.”
The Emperor shook his head, again gritting his teeth. Now the Cacas were increasing the immediate consequences of not relieving the planet. And he had been reminded once again that his friend was in a combat zone against orders. That was another problem, one that would just have to wait. It might sort itself out. Unfortunately, the most likely way for that to happen was for Cornelius to be killed, which was not the optimal solution as far as Sean was concerned.
* * *
“Everyone. Get under cover.” As the words were leav
ing his mouth Walborski was following his own advice, running hell bent for leather for the entrance of the sewers, the only shelter within reach.
Objects were dropping from the sky, trailing fire and smoke. They weren’t very large as far as kinetics went. They would penetrate deep in a very small area, and the surface blast would only be in the tens of kilotons. Nothing for people in heavy or powered armor. He and his people had no armor, and a close blast would kill them in an instant.
Fortunately most of the civilians in the urban areas had gotten out, running into the forest, most getting into the mountains and the cover they offered. That left only the fighters and the beings supporting them in the target zones, and the armored Cacas.
A bright flash came from the north, intolerably intense, as the heat of the impact reached out. Cornelius dove through the entrance, the pain of the burns on his face already stinging. The ground rumbled from the strike a second later, transmitted through the rock of the crust.
“Why in the hell are they dropping kinetics on us?” yelled out the young sergeant, Xi, now sharing the dark with the general. “Aren’t they going to kill everything in this system anyway? This doesn’t make sense.”
“I think they’re trying to get the attention of our people,” said Cornelius, holding his hand to his face and feeling the damage. Not as much as he feared, and the nanites in his system would already be going to work repairing it. He was fortunate that it wasn’t a nuke, since the EMP could have shorted out the nanites. He had reserves in his system in shielded containers, but it was better to not tap into those, in case he had greater need later.
The ground rumbled again a couple of times and dust fell from the ceiling. The underground chamber connecting to the sewer was sturdy, and nothing had hit close enough to collapse it. That probably wasn’t true for everyone. Some might need digging out, while others might be beyond help. And there was still a battle to fight.
“It looks like they’ve stopped. At least for now. Let’s get back up there and see what we can do.”
The air was clouded with dust, making it hard to breath and obscuring their vision. Parts of the city were on fire, and many of the larger buildings had totally collapsed, with partial collapse of some of the smaller structures. To Cornelius’ view the Cacas had accomplished little beside making the city a defensive haven. The number of obstacles and barriers had multiplied. The Cacas would have more trouble manuering, as would his side, but they were hit and run guerillas, so the advantage would still be theirs. And the sewers were still their friends’.
The Cacas weren’t long in coming back. Aircraft swooped down and disgorged troops, then took up station as gunships. A couple of shootdowns with anti-air missiles and they abandoned that tactic, the aircraft going low and landing. Soon the two sides were reengaged, and the enemy was taking casualties at an even greater rate than before.
The trouble that the Cacas were facing, as far as the general could see, was that they had little experience in putting down guerilla forces. Their slaves were mostly cowed, and those that weren’t didn’t have great support from the population. A couple of kinetic strikes, some boots on the ground, and they won. Humans had fought for centuries against the Lasharans, fanatical guerilla fighters, so they had developed working theories of insurgent and counter-insurgent warfare. Still, the Cacas had the firepower, if not the tactics, and they were making it an expensive proposition for the Maurids to keep them at bay.
“We have gas here, General,” called a voice over the net, followed by a deep hacking cough, then silence.
“Shit,” cursed the sergeant, pulling his mask from the small belt pouch it resided in.
Cornelius followed suit, wondering what they were going to do for their allies. He saw several over the next minute who had their versions of gas masks, long snouted afairs suited to their faces. He saw some who lacked any kind of protection, only still up because this area hadn’t been hit.
“I’m back,” said the officer who had warned them about the gas, speaking over the encrypted net through the network of micro-drones they were constantly deploying as relays. “It seems to be an incapacitating gas, with the Maurids as primary targets. It didn’t put me down, but I still feel kind of woozy.”
“Then stay under cover until your head clears,” said Cornelius, thankful that it hadn’t been some kind of terrible nerve agent. His people might still have survived, since their nanites could take apart the agent as soon as it hit the blood. Or they might not, depending on the density and lethality of the gas.
“Have we spotted the gas vectors?”
“I think I have, General,” replied the lower ranking officer. “Some kind of mid-sized drone.”
“Then let’s go hunting.”
Chapter Seventeen
In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't. Blaise Pascal
“It’s time,” said Phlirassaa, the low admiral in charge of the projection force, looking around the bridge.
The enemy force was deep enough into the system that they wouldn’t be able to get out of the way of the photon storm. Some might still be able to shelter behind other bodies where they were, but the great majority couldn’t. And the ships that had been sent to attack them were now over forty light seconds away with almost no momentum as they slowed and changed their vector to come back in. They were also all visible, radiating enough heat to be easily picked up.
“Start targeting those enemy ships. Send a signal for every vessel to start engaging anything they can reach, starting with the closest. And start rotating into position.”
The commands went out and the twelve stations in equidistant orbits around the star started to move. All started the rotation that would point their long axis at the star, while some started to shift to the north or south. The other twenty-eight sats also started to move. Those were little more than some grabber units attacked to empty frames, batteries charged from solar power, and a basic computer system. Those were decoys, making it unclear as to which were the real threat until they actually started generating hyper waves. Their grabbers would start pulsing when the real projectors started sending out their hyperwaves, maybe drawing some fire to themselves if anything was coming in from a distance.
As the satellites rotated toward their terminal positions they started ejecting covers on the exterior. Now these were flying up under their thrusters, revealing the weapons mounts underneath. As soon as the covers were out of the way they opened fire. The targets were within range of the lasers, though still capable of maneuvering out of the way at their distance. Unfortunately for those targets, they were all on predictable courses, taking time to react, making the first shots land.
* * *
“Shit,” called out the tactical officer.
Suttler turned to look at the officer, taking his eyes off of the antimatter production satellites that had been rotating. It had finally become clear, and the admiral cursed himself for a fool for not seeing it sooner. They hadn’t placed superbattleships in orbit, or even hid them out someplace where they could move into position quickly. No, they had rebuilt some of the satellites with parts gleaned from their warships, then put them there, hidden in plain sight.
“We’ve just been hit with a laser, sir. Burn through in port bow cooling room. Casualties reported.”
“Raise the electromagnetic fields, tac. Helm. Start evasives.”
“Already have sir,” said the tactical officer, at the same time as the helmsman replied, “aye, sir.”
“Those are capital ship lasers, sir,” reported the tac officer in a shaky voice. “I’m picking up heavy electromagnetic fields coming up. And sir. There are massive graviton resonances coming from twelve of those objects. Pulse emissions from the others. I think those are decoys.”
“Should I signal the force to retire?” asked the com officer, looking with wide eyes back at her commander.
“Hell no,” shouted Suttler, the anger at being hoodwinke
d dueling with the fear that he might fail his Emperor and Empire, and by the way losing his life. “There are our targets, the ones we came to destroy, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
He studied the plot for a mere second, wincing at two of his ships blinked and disappeared from the plot. All of the others were now strong graviton traces as they went from barely pushing their drives to going to full military power, moving and evading with everything they had. Grampus was doing the same, her compensators now radiating tremendous heat as she rid the ship of the effects of inertia.
“Target that near ship and hit it with a particle beam,” he ordered his tac officer. “Then work out a solution for a missile launch.”
The officer nodded and went to work. The particle beams on the stealth/attack ship were as powerful as those on any battleship. They could also channel a beam from the Donut through the wormhole, but at the moment it was set up to attach to an accelerator launch tube. It would take ten minutes or longer to transfer it to the particle beam, time they might not have.
“We have missile launch,” called out the sensor tech. “Twenty missiles, counter class, heading for us.”
The plot was now alive with the icons of missiles. Each of the twelve platforms they had identified as their targets had fired twenty, all accelerating at ten thousand gravities. Ten seconds after the first launch there was another, followed by a third. It seemed a little like overkill, but the enemy ships would never have to fire again after they took out Suttler’s force. The only good news was these were the less capable counter-missiles, designed to hit incoming missiles and destroying them with twenty megaton warheads. They could maneuver like nothing else in space, but anything that hit them, even once, totally destroyed the small weapon.
The Grampus started pulsing lasers from it rings, taking the counters under fire one after the other. The ship shook as it released its own counters, set for proximy kills. Half of the first wave dropped off the plot immediately. That left fifty weapons coming toward them, more than enough to do the job without a whole lot of skill, or luck
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 27
