Exodus: Empires at War: Book 10: Search & Destroy

by Doug Dandridge

  “That’s a long story,” she told the being on the viewer. “But I guess I should start out by saying that your old enemies are now under new management.”

  Chapter Five

  If somebody I don’t like gets in the crosshairs, I pull the trigger. But I don’t hunt for them.

  T. Boone Pickens

  CAPITULUM, AUGUST 20TH, 1002

  “So, what’s the word on these raiders?” asked Sean, sitting at the conference table that now seemed like his second home.

  “We have located four sets of them, your Majesty,” reported Sondra McCullom, bringing up a holo of Sector III space, the last known locations of the raider teams on them, with projected tracks from Fenri space. Also on the plot were known paths of ships that were overdue to report in to their destinations.

  “It doesn’t look like all of the paths of possible missing ships intersect the courses of those raiders.”

  “That they do not, your Majesty. So we have to assume that there are even more of them. Our analysts are predicting three more teams.”

  “And these teams are, what?”

  “A capital ship and a cruiser, at least in the four teams we have identified so far. Two of the teams are made up of a battleship and the companion cruiser, while the other pairs are battle cruisers and their consorts.”

  “It really amounts to a suicide mission by these ships and crews,” said Rear Admiral Innocent, also sitting in on the meeting. “They have no intention of going home, which gives them quite an advantage, since they can continue to drive in on our territory without consideration of an escape route.”

  “The Crakista used such a strategy against us in their last war,” said McCullom, closing her eyes for a moment as she linked into the Fleet database. “Similar makeup of the raiding forces, though in their case a cruiser and a destroyer. They did quite a bit of damage to our commerce in the area, and of course in those days we didn’t have the com network we have now, so it was much more difficult to vector forces in to stop them.”

  “And how did we find them?” asked Sean, looking over at the steward who was refilling his coffee cup and giving the man a smile. He turned back to his CNO. “And could we use the same method to find and destroy the ships we haven’t located?”

  “Unfortunately,” said Mcullom, shaking her head, “the Crakista had a little bit more regard for life than the Fenri, and they attempted to save the crews of every ship they destroyed. They either allowed them to get to the lifeboats if it was in a system, or they would carry the lifeboats themselves to a place where other traffic would be sure to find them.”

  “Not something those murderous slavers would worry about,” said Sean with a grimace.

  “No, your majesty. In fact, they seem to be going out of their way to make sure all of the crews and passengers aboard all the ships they have attacked are killed. We have evidence of them destroying lifeboats full of people that were able to get away from the main vessels.”

  “Bastards. And what are we going to do about it?”

  “We are mobilizing every asset in the area, your Majesty,” said McCullom, pulling up an organizational chart of what was already involved in the search. “Unfortunately, most of our military shipping is out at the fronts.”

  Sean studied the chart for a moment. There were a couple of battleships, more battle cruisers, and several hundred smaller ships, cruisers and destroyers. It looked like a formidable force, if they had been hunting pirates. But capital ships? He had no doubt a battleship and a force of escorts could take out a raider team. Or even enough of a force of cruisers and destroyers. But any smaller force that came upon a raider team would just add to the losses.

  “How much civilian traffic in that area?”

  “Quite a bit,” replied McCullom, bringing up a display of known shipping on the holo. Many of those tracks intersected the predicted courses of the raiders. And there were tracks that moved across the known past positions of the raiders. Since the civilian craft didn’t have any kind of instantaneous or long range coms, it was unknown if any of them might have encountered a raider. Some of those ships could be dead, and it would never be known what had happened to them, not really. They could drop out of hyper into normal space, their remains to float among the emptiness forever. Space was big, really big, and for all their ships and all their traffic, sentient beings only really moved through a tiny percentage of it.

  “I know you’re doing all you can, Sondra, but I want these Fenri. I really don’t care if you take any of them alive, it’s more important that they are stopped. But also make sure the group commanders know they are not to engage unless they believe they can do enough damage to the enemy to slow them down. I don’t want any heroic plays that gain nothing, understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. And we’re trying to get more ships into the area. As we speak, some powerful task forces are on the move. But it will take time to get them there.”

  Sean looked back at the plot, shaking his head. Everything took time, unless they had a wormhole gate in place. And this region was not one that had demanded such gates, so they still had to move things around the old fashioned way. The major advantage they had was in communications with their ships. If an Imperial force made contact with a raider, command would know it. Many of the ships that didn’t have a wormhole aboard had a Klassekian, but not all. Nowhere near all, since the aliens were also a finite resource at the moment, and ships at the fronts had priority.

  “We can only hope that the patrols that don’t know about the Fenri, and that we don’t have the means to contact, will know what action to take if they run into them,” said Rear Admiral Innocent, mirroring Sean’s thoughts.

  Yes, thought Sean, visualizing escorts running into capital ships. We can only hope.

  * * *

  “Hey, Junior,” said the proud dad as the toddler waddled toward him. “So my little man is getting around.” Cornelius squatted down and lifted his son into his arms. “And getting so big.”

  “And getting into everything,” said Devera Walborski, smiling at her adopted son, then looking up at the face of her husband. “Thank God for the nanny.”

  “I guess it’s been rough,” said Cornelius, placing his son back on the floor and walking to his wife, taking her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers.

  “School has been hard,” said the beautiful redhead after returning her husband’s kiss. “But I’m making it. Another couple of years and I’ll be an officer and a doctor.”

  Cornelius looked at his wife, taking in her face and wondering once more how he had been lucky enough to hook up with someone like her. Not just intelligent and gorgeous, but accepting of his baby son and the girl child he had rescued from the planet Azure.

  “And how did your trip to New Detroit go?” she asked in a nonchalant manner that let him know she had guessed the reason for his visit to his old home world.

  “It went well,” he said, touching her face with his hand.

  “And I don’t have to worry about Imperial Marshals showing up at the door?”

  “There was no loss of life, if that’s what you’re worried about. I made my point, and now it’s over.”

  “Sometimes you worry me,” she said, rubbing her hands on his shoulders. “So much anger. I know you have reason,” she said quickly before he could reply. “More reason than most. But you still worry me.”

  “No worries,” said Cornelius with a smile. “That fat fuck is out of my mind, forever.”

  “Who’s a fat fuck,” said Rebecca Walborski, walking in the French doors and tossing her school comp on the nearby table.

  “Watch your mouth, young lady,” said Devera in a stern tone.

  “Well, Cornelius said it first,” said Rebecca with a smile. She ran up to Cornelius and wrapped him in a hug.

  “You’re getting so big,” said the Ranger, putting his hand on her head. That head was almost up to his collar bone, tall for a fifteen year old, just entering puberty.

  “Six more
years and I can enter the academy,” said the child, looking over and seeing the face that her adoptive mother was making. “What, my grades will be good enough. And I’m the best athlete in my school.”

  “I’d hoped the war would be over before you had to serve,” said Devera, her eyes tearing up.

  Fat chance, thought Cornelius, who was privy to more of the intelligence concerning the war than someone of his rank and station would normally have access to, thanks to his friendship with the Emperor. The Cacas would be back, almost every analyst agreed with that, and the Empire would again be in the fight of its life trying to repel their invasion. That could take years, and then more years of beating them back into their own space. The fighting could go on for a century or longer, until they had raised a generation that knew nothing but war.

  “I don’t want it to be over,” cried out the child, pushing away from her dad and standing with her fists clenched at her sides. “I want to get some of mine back with the bastards. They need to pay, for my mom and dad, and for Benjamin. And I want to be the one who collects.”

  With that the child ran out of the room, stomping with each step.

  “Another with more reason than most,” said Cornelius, shaking his head.

  “It tears me apart,” said Devera, picking up Junior and holding the toddler close. “She’s so angry much of the time, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “You just have to love her,” said Cornelius, “and accept that she is damaged. And hope she makes good decisions when she reaches her majority.” That would be twenty-one, when she still wasn’t physically an adult, but mentally would be. And legally. And then her life choices would be hers, and hers alone. If she wanted to serve in the Fleet, something she had made plain to them all, he couldn’t fault her. At least she wouldn’t be trapped in a combat suit for weeks at a time.

  “How long are you home?” asked Devera, moving back into his arms.

  “Eight days,” he said, holding her tight. “Then I’m off to a training command for a couple of months.” He looked down into her eyes. “I’ll be able to come home at regular intervals.”

  “Are you sure the boss will let you?”

  “I’m pretty sure the stupid bastard will, since I am he.”

  Devera laughed, something that made Cornelius happy. There was too little laughter in the Empire these days. He would take what peace and quiet he could while they were available, because he knew that when the opportunity arose he would demand a combat command. He still had a lot of payback to demand himself, and he planned on getting all of it.

  * * *

  PLANET NEW MOSCOW, AUGUST 23RD, 1002.

  Colonel General Samuel Baggett looked up at the night sky for a moment before continuing up the steps. The night sky over the planet New Moscow was alive with lights, as every night. The reflections of sunlight on the forts and docks in far orbit, the running lights of platforms and ships closer in. Even the navigation and hazard strobes of shuttles coming down and aerial craft flying over.

  He followed one of the closer lights as it continued to drop, heading for the landing field just outside of New Moscow City. Though only back in service for a relatively short time, it was already one of the ten busiest landing fields in human space, bringing in the goods and services needed to rebuild a shattered world, while lifting a good bit of the industrial product of the planet into orbit.

  The city itself was coming to life, with over four million residents and an army of workers and robots restoring the buildings that were not total wrecks. Much of the city still looked like a moonscape, the stumps of tall buildings that had been shattered in the invasion showing what the planet had been through. Now it was coming back to life, just over four months since the Cacas had been thrown off the planet, a process that brought both hope and great concern to the Imperial Army officer. Hope that the Kingdom of New Moscow, the ally of his Empire, was once again a going enterprise. Concern that all of this was being built back up right in the path of the soon to be oncoming Ca’cadasan Juggernaut.

  Of the over seven hundred million people his Empire had saved with their operation, about a hundred and fifty million were still on the planet, as well as almost five million Imperial and Republic personnel and workers. About half of those rescued were now on Imperial planets, safe for the moment, while the rest were scattered around almost fifty of the Czar’s worlds.

  They were turning this system into the most heavily fortified in human space, in the hope that the Cacas would break their teeth on it if they ever invaded again. Baggett, who had both invaded fortified planets, and been on the surface during invasions, held no such illusions that a defense would succeed. They might hurt the Cacas, but an attack in force would take the planet. The only hope the system had was the two ship gates, one in orbit, one near to the hyper barrier. If the Empire could bring in enough ships to win a naval battle, the system would be saved. If not?

  The General shrugged his shoulders and continued up the steps to the partially repaired palace. Only the central section had been restored, the rest was in ruins. That had been at the orders of the new Czar, just enough restored to make a working executive building for the kingdom. Baggett approved of that decision, and of a man who thought of the people first.

  The guards waved him through after checking his identifiers. The hallway leading to the throne room had an unfinished look to it, no paintings, a basic coating of paint. The doors to the throne room were plain armorplast, two armored guards on either side. They too waved the General in, and he entered a large room with a throne at the end, empty. The floor was uncarpeted, and his boots rang out on the hard surface as he walked toward the other end of the chamber.

  “Over here, General Baggett,” called out a voice from one of the alcoves.

  Baggett walked over there, his eyes picking out the large alcove, which had been fitted out as an office. Pietrov Gorbunov, former Colonel in the Czar’s Army and a distant cousin of the ruler, had been crowned by Sean himself. The dapper looking man, still a young and vigorous hundred and ten years old, sat at his desk with a number of holo screens open to his front and side, a couple of ministers sitting with him.

  “Your Majesty,” said Baggett, bowing to the new Monarch.

  “I’m still having problems with that title,” said Gorbunov with a smile. “I still feel like I should be coming to my feet and saluting you.”

  “I’m afraid those days are past, Czar Pietrov. Now you must think of higher command decisions.”

  “And how goes the training of my new army?”

  “Thanks to the number of veterans who came forward, we already have the cadres for an entire twelve division army. That includes four armored divisions and eight divisions of heavy infantry.”

  “And my shore defense artillery?”

  “From what I hear, they have enough equipment for six static brigades and twelve battalions of mobile guns. But that really isn’t my area.”

  No, his responsibility was to reorganize and rebuild his own army in place, while simultaneously training one of the two armies being formed for the Czar. The other was a light infantry force, mostly more of a police force than anything else, and not his problem either.

  “And do you think we’ll be able to withstand an invasion if one is coming in the near future?”

  “If you want the truth, your Majesty?” Baggett waited until the Monarch nodded. “Then you don’t have a chance in hell. You know what the Cacas brought to the table last time, and they failed. This time I suspect they will bring even more, probably much more. Double? At least.”

  “So you think this is all a waste,” said Gorbunov with a frown.

  “No. As long as we can evacuate most of the civilians, and make the Cacas pay a price for taking the planet, it’s not a waste. Damned tough on the soldiers that have to contest a landing, but it fought well, the army will do what it’s supposed to.”

  “Damned tough on the soldiers,” said the Czar, shaking his head. “And I used to be one o
f them.”

  “And you wish you could stand with them if the planet is invaded again?”

  “I will stand with them, General. I will refuse to evacuate this planet. If my soldiers die trying to hold our homeworld, then I will die with them.”

  Baggett could see the determination in the face of the Monarch. He didn’t agree with that decision, since the eight hundred million remaining New Muscovites still needed his leadership, but he couldn’t fault the man’s courage.

  “We have a demonstration planned tomorrow, your Majesty,” said Baggett. “I would like you to attend, as my guest.”

  “Certainly, General. I would be happy to see what you have to show me.”

  The next morning dawned bright, with the early heat that promised a very hot day. General Baggett was dressed out in his heavy combat armor, the same set he would wear to command his army in the field. The Czar was out early as well, a smile on his face, one that showed how happy he was to be away from all the paperwork he was getting bogged down in as ruler of his people. His security detail, an entire platoon of the Czar’s Marines in ground combat gear, were fanned out around him, with a half squad in close. Baggett didn’t see the need for the detail, but like most monarchs, these were an omnipresent fact of life. The Monarch himself wore a special suit of medium armor that cost ten times more than any of the heavy suits around him, protection that might be needed this day if something went wrong.

  Across the field sat ten impressive vehicles, tanks built in the Empire, though with the cammo scheme of the Czar’s army programmed into the chameleon skin of the massive armored vehicles. The seven member crews were all aboard, seen through the open hatches that allowed each access to the outside world.

  “And these are mine?” asked the Czar, looking out at the tanks.

  “An entire company of Mark IV Tyranosaurs,” agreed Baggett. “The new C model, over ninety-five tons heavier than the B model that equips most of my army.”