* * *
THE SECOND FRONT.
“They have hit another of our resupply convoys, my Lord,” reported the frightened looking subordinate.
Great Admiral Mgananawan K’lantariana stared at the Ca’cadasan messenger that he could put to death at the merest whim. He relished the male’s terror for a moment, then let him off the hook. “Tell me,” he said to the young officer, waving the male forward into his office.
“From the reports, a swarm of the Klavarta ships attacked in hyperspace, pulling the escorts away, while another swarm came in from the other side and took out almost half of the supply ships, including five out of the six tankers.”
The Great Admiral swore as he pounded a fist on his desk, eliciting a look of terror from the messenger. His fleet was using up antimatter at an alarming rate as it moved through Klavarta space looking for their homeworlds. The problem being that the human constructs didn’t plant their colonies around the most hospitable stars, as would be expected of most intelligent species. Instead, they seemed to colonize only red dwarves, with a few exceptions. Since eighty percent of the stars in any region of the Galaxy were red dwarves, it was a daunting proposition to track them down. True, he had over twenty-five thousand ships at his disposal, what remained of the fleet after the human attack at the Klavarta homeworld. But they could only move in large groups, lest they invite attack in overwhelming numbers. Which reduced their ability to search this space efficiently.
Mgananawan looked at the holo of this region of space, almost seventy million stars along the what the humans called the Sagittarius Arm, and the Ca’cadasans the Inner Claw. Several of the stars were blinking white, the systems where the Empire had established strongholds, including the former capital system of the Klavarta. Thirty other stars blinked red, systems where they had found industrial colonies of their enemies. They had wiped the Klavarta presence from those systems. But none had been the huge industrial concerns that were expected from any technologically advanced power.
And the damned things are spread out all through their space, looking for any opportunity to hurt us. It’s turned into a damned war of attrition, and they might just be able to replace their losses faster than we can.
“My Lord,” called out a voice, as another holo sprang into existence. The face of one of his Tactical Assistants looked out of the three dimensional projection. “We believe, having analyzed shipping patterns, that we have found one of their primary systems.”
The Great Admiral stood up from his chair, nostrils distending as he drew in a deep breath. “Show me,” he ordered.
The holo changed, showing a mirror image of the star chart on the main holo. It zoomed in, while one of the stars blinked. The Great Admiral looked at the holo, gauging the distance to the nearest of his strong points.
“Send my orders to this strong point by courier. I want a battle fleet on the move as soon as possible. And mobilize everything we can spare to move by tomorrow.”
“At once, my Lord. May I ask what your intention is for the second force?”
“Of course,” said the Great Admiral, prepared to parade his own military genius in front of a subordinate. “We know they have much better communications than we do. Whether it is these miraculous wormholes they seem to possess, or some other invention, the fact is that they can marshal their forces much quicker than should be possible. Yes?”
“The humans from the other Empire seem to have these resources, my Lord,” admitted the Subordinate, confusion on his face. “But why…”
“Because when we appear near this system, another force will be sent to relieve them. To hopefully, from their perspective, trap and destroy our force. But we will have another, larger force nearby, waiting for this move.”
“I see,” said the Tactician, understanding lighting his face. “And who will lead this force?”
“Why, my most trusted officer,” said the Great Admiral with a smile. “Myself.”
* * *
“You must not beat the other males, my son,” said the Emperor to his youngest, Janstarais, the fourth in line for the succession. The child was only twenty-four standard years old, just entering adolescence for the long lived species. And still learning what it meant to be a Cacada warrior. Unless all three of his older brothers died, an unlikely occurrence since the trio were all on different worlds most of the time, the youngster would become a noble officer in the Ca’cadasan military.
“But my Lord,” said the young male, a defiant expression on his face. “The vermin insulted my line.”
“And how did he do that?”
“By saying that I must have descended from the human apes because of my lack of mathematical ability.”
“And you are not doing well in math?”
“I find it boring, my Lord,” said the young male with a sneer. “And I will not be a scientist,” the boy said that with another sneer.
The Emperor found himself closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his forehead. His eldest had been much like this one, until he had his arrogance beaten out of him. The Emperor did not want to see that happen to this one, but it might be necessary. And his contempt for science and scientists. Most Ca’cadasan scientists were males in late adulthood, their military service well behind them. And lacking the mental flexibility of younger Cacada. They were mainly the supervisors of the scientists of the slave species. And the Emperor had to wonder if they had made a mistake there as well, putting the technological advancement of the Empire in the hands of people who had no love for their masters.
“So you will be a warrior? That is what you think? And what kind of warrior? A commander of ground troops?”
“A fleet commander,” answered the young male proudly, crossing both sets of arms over an expanded chest.
“Not without a command of mathematics,” said the Emperor, poking a large finger into the upper chest of his son, above the crossed arms. “And physics, engineering and other sciences.”
The young male stared at him for a moment, brow furrowing, as if he had not thought of that.
“And what if you one day must sit on the throne? You will need an understanding of math to understand the finance and commerce of the Empire. And science, so that you might decide the direction of our efforts in that sphere.”
“I will never sit the throne,” said his son, shrugging both sets of shoulders.
“And that is what I thought,” said the Emperor. “Until my older brother died, and suddenly I was the heir.” He looked into the face of his son, trying to see if his message had gotten through. He wasn’t sure, and could only hope. “And about this beating of other males. Such is right and proper when you are engaging in contests of strength and fighting ability. But not in a class in mathematics. Understood?”
“Yes,” said Janstarais, his head hanging.
“Enjoy your youth while you can, my son,” said the Emperor, placing a hand on the young male’s upper shoulder. “It will pass soon enough, and the long years of service to the Empire stretch ahead.”
The Emperor watched as the young male left the chamber, his two warrior bodyguards falling in behind him. Those guards would protect the young male from any overt threat, which did not include fist fights with males his own age. He thought of his own long years on the throne, with probably a millennium more to go. Most other species envied the Ca’cadasans their long lives, but sometimes it seemed like too much.
“The designs for the new ships are ready for your approval, my Lord,” said the Chief Administrator of Conquest, walking into the private audience chamber.
“Let us see them,” said the Emperor, motioning for the male to precede him from the room.
They walked the long corridors, took a lift down to several kilometers beneath the building, then entered the secure room where the Emperor was shown the top secret efforts of his Empire to advance. He took a seat at the head of the table, his guards, not cleared for this level of information, remaining outside. The holo came to life over the t
able, showing two large warships side by side. One was slightly larger than the other, though that was not what stood out to the Emperor’s discerning eye.
“Are those light amp rings on the second ship?”
“Yes, my Lord. We have decided that the humans had the superior weapons deployment plan on their ships. They can apply all of their laser power on a single target, while our old design could at most put sixty percent of their energy on target. The major weakness of the human design is the possibility of knocking out a significant portion of their light amp power with a single hit, while the laser dome design only allows the reduction of one fortieth of the ship’s fire power with a single strike.”
“But the design board has decided the risk is worth it?” asked the Emperor, leaning forward in his chair to look over the new design.
“Statistical analysis, as performed by our Xoinin slave mathematicians, indicated that the laser ring system was superior, despite the added risk.”
“And the new ship is larger?”
“Yes, my Lord,” said the Chief Administrator of Conquest. “We have added another layer of armor, though much thinner than the main belt, as well as more electromag field generators. A major addition is more missile and counter missile tubes, as well as a seventy percent increase in close in autoweapons. As the war has progressed, it has come to our attention that most engagements are being fought at long distance, well out of the effective range of beam weapons, and over ninety-five percent of the kills have been to missiles. So it was thought that missile defenses needed to be augmented. The same thing is being done with the smaller ships.”
“Very well,” said the Emperor, giving a head motion of agreement. “When can we have these new ships deployed?”
“We can have the scout versions coming off the shipyards in five to seven months, cruisers in a year. I’m afraid, my Lord, that the capital ship design will take the same amount of time the old one does, more or less. Eighteen months or so.”
“Then we will just have to fight on with what we have,” replied the Emperor.
“We still have the larger fleet, and the more courageous warriors,” said the Administrator. “We shouldn’t have any trouble defeating these humans.”
No, we shouldn’t, thought the Emperor, staring at the three dimensional image of the new battleship. We shouldn’t, but I have a feeling that we will.
Chapter Four
To build may have to be the slow and laborious task of years. To destroy can be the thoughtless act of a single day.
Winston Churchill
UNKNOWN LOCATION, IMPERIAL SPACE: AUGUST 14TH, 1002
“And that is the only way you know to move backward in time?” asked the Interrogator, his cold eyes looking down on the man on the other side of the small table. “You seemed to think you could send a wormhole as far back in time as you wanted when you spoke on the Donut.”
“I may have gotten a little carried away at the time,” said Dr. Kenji Guatarrez, avoiding the gaze of the man whom he thought of as his head jailer. Ever since he had opened his mouth at the lecture on the Donut he had effectively been a prisoner of whoever these people were. At first he had thought that they were Naval Intelligence, since they had worn the uniforms. Now he wasn’t so sure, and the uniforms had definitely disappeared as soon as they had placed him in this detention facility.
“Our own experts are telling us that there must be another way,” said the woman that Guatarrez thought of as the Disapprover. “After all, if the legends are to be believed, the Ancients attempted to change past events, some of which had happened millennia in the past. Would you really think they would wait for time to pass second per second to reach the time they were interested in?”
“I have no idea as to whether they would wait or not,” exclaimed the scientist in exasperation, since they had asked him this question multiple times over the months he had been here. “I’m not one of the Ancients, and I have no way of knowing what they would do.”
Two pairs of cold eyes, one set blue, the other brown, stared at him. Guatarrez knew they were monitoring him through the probes they had placed within his body, as well as through his implant, which they were remotely monitoring. There was no way he could tell a lie without their knowing. He knew better than to try.
“This is not helpful,” said the Interrogator, shaking his head.
“It might be useful to be able to go back a couple of months,” said the Disapprover, one of the few positive things the scientist had ever heard come from her.
“Going back a couple of months will not destroy them before they can strike at the Earth,” said the Interrogator. “It would be even better if we could destroy them before they ever got off their planet. It would sure save a lot of other intelligent species the problems the Cacas caused.”
“You realize that trying to change the time stream that far back could have disastrous consequences,” said the Scientist, trying to reason with these people he thought of as mad. “You could end everything that we know. And be responsible for trillions of beings having never existed.”
He didn’t think they would get that with the method he had proposed. His method of time travel involved using an alternate dimension that had been discovered by one of the Alternate Universe Project probes, while he had been with the project. Universe number two thousand nine hundred and fifty-four had seemed like a normal universe at first glance. It had even had the kind of physical laws that would allow life from their universe to survive, with stellar bodies and planets. Some of the numbers coming back looked kind of strange, radiation from some nearby objects seemed a little off. A probe was sent into the universe, which disappeared almost immediately with no explanation. They sent another, with the same result, then another, until some tech noticed that looking at the sensor recordings from further back they were seeing the probes before they had actually gone through the portal. They were also picking up some graviton ripples, as if spacetime itself was reacting to some event.
Every probe they sent through disappeared from their scans, but were recorded further and further back. When the probe they sent through twenty minutes after the opening appeared on twenty minutes of recordings, they finally figured it out. Time was running backwards in this new universe. Or was it? A probe sent through with a small rodent, set to send video and physiological readings back, disappeared as well, though the recording showed that the animal was acting and metabolizing normally, just in the opposite direction of time flow from our universe. Studies of the record determined that time flowed in the opposite direction from our universe in a one second to one second ratio. They studied the new space for several weeks, verifying the hypothesis, then closed it off. After all, though it might offer a haven in the future, it seemed as if the time reversal really didn’t offer much of an advantage.
Until Guatarrez thought of the possibilities of wormholes. If one end was anchored in our universe, the other in the reverse time universe, they essentially would have a time machine if they could open a portal back into our universe at an earlier time. One could go through the wormhole and end up days, weeks, even months in the past. The only problem he faced was that the Other Universe Project had the only means of opening the door to the other universe he needed, and they weren’t about to meddle in something with such serious negative connotations as time travel.
Guatarrez had experimented using probes, first with modified hyperdrives, then a subspace drive with variable resonances. It had taken several years of experimentation, but he had finally found the proper resonance to open up the way into the other space, which was really more of a type of subspace than anything else.
“We’ll want you to supervise the first attempt, Dr. Guatarrez,” said the woman.
“I thought you didn’t consider this workable as is,” said Guatarrez, confused.
“I don’t think it is,” agreed the man. “But it’s the only thing we have at the moment. And the sooner we start on it, the further into the past we can reach when we
need to.”
Guatarrez almost thought of refusing, though he was sure there would be consequences to such a refusal that he would not like. But a chance like this might never come along again.
“Let’s get started,” he said, smiling at his captors.
* * *
“We have been picking up ripples in space time from within your Empire,” said the Ancient known as Klorasof, his multiple eyes all focused on the human it was talking to, its six tentacle arms waving in the air, showing its excitement.
“And what does that mean?” asked Xavier Jackson, whom the aliens had rescued from deep space, and who had been their permanent guest ever since. As in they were not about to let him go back to his people with knowledge of them. He had a good idea what the alien was talking about, which did not make him feel confident about the actions the creatures were about to take.
“Someone in your Empire is experimenting with time travel,” said the Ancient, his tentacles still waving in the air, showing his discomfort. “Early stages, obviously, but the sign of things to come. And something we cannot permit.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“We are assuming humans, your kind,” said Klorasof in a disapproving tone. “We do not know where these experiments are taking place at this time, so we do not have a target. But this, combined with your species’ ability to generate wormholes, makes this a dangerous combination.”
“You said that before. But I’m not really sure what the danger of time travel is.” Jackson could tell the creature wasn’t sure if it could believe what it was hearing. “Oh, I understand about the paradox, like going back in time and telling yourself what to do on a certain day, or even killing someone. I thought the time stream would even little events like that out. Or at least that is what I seem to understand from the reading I’ve been doing.”
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