* * *
SPACE BETWEEN THE NEW MOSCOW AND THE FENRI EMPIRE: SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1002.
“We have Ca’cadasan ships on approach, Admiral,” called out Klassekian Com Tech, sitting her station on the flag bridge of the light cruiser.
“How many?” asked Rear Admiral Natasha Romanov, New Terran Republic Fleet, stepping over from the holo she had been studying that showed the dispositions of her command. She had the Republic side of the picket that stretched across this area of the space between New Moscow and the Fenri Empire. The ships, all now equipped with either a Klassekian tech, a wormhole, or in the case of her flagship, both, were keeping watch on the Ca’cadasans, serving as an early warning line for when the inevitable resumption of their offensive kicked off.
“The Galascos is reporting twenty-seven ships, Admiral. Eight of them superbattleships.”
This has to be another probe, thought Romanov, looking on the plot to see the location of the frigate that was sending the information over the quantum connection to the tech aboard. Orleans was the command ship for eight squadrons of frigates and three of destroyers, a total of one hundred and thirty-three ships including the cruiser. Each squadron had two sibling groups of Klassekians assigned, one to each ship, while one member of each group was aboard the cruiser on the newly created com wall of the flag bridge. There were twenty-two of the strange looking aliens aboard, though not all were at their posts at this moment. The cruiser itself had a wormhole, connecting to Fleet Command back in the Republic.
“Pellasco is picking up another group, ma’am,” reported one of the techs who was not on the bridge over the com. Even off duty, the Klassekians were always connected to their siblings, able to transmit the information up the line instantaneously.
Pellasco was another frigate in another squadron, about forty light years from the first frigate. Her command was spread over an area of sixty by fifty light years, a surface of over three thousand square light years. That meant her ships were on average covering twenty two square light years each, way beyond the coverage range of their sensors. The total area between New Moscow and the Fenri Empire was over four million square light years, an impossible to cover total. The republic had over twelve hundred vessels tasked to this picket, while the Empire had another three thousand, still not enough. They hung in space, invisible to the enemy, searching for any signals, moving periodically to new spots at random. There wasn’t a hope of covering the entire area, not and do all the other things a fleet in wartime needed to do. They would never be able to catch every incursion, but it was hoped that the pickets, and the roving patrols behind them, would at least catch wind of any large scale force moving through.
It was so much easier when we knew their regular path of entry into our space, thought the Admiral, watching as fifteen other icons appeared on the plot. Then they had only needed a couple of score ships to cover the entire zone, and could even launch hyper capable missiles down the throats of ships heading through, which they did at times.
“Make sure the information gets up the line to HQ,” ordered the Admiral, looking at the Lt. Commander who in charge of the newly reorganized com division. “It looks like our friends are starting to get frisky again.”
Traffic had been picking up over the last month, until now there were multiple incursions every day across this frontier. Still not enough to be alarmed about, and most of the groups that crossed the picket line came back several days later, or most of the ships did. Some disappeared past the frontier, some to be located by the roving patrols, often with a battle ensuing. Others to wander on with their scouts.
“I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing fleets in the near future, ma’am,” said the Task Group Tactical Officer.
“I’m sure of it,” said Romanov. “We may have kicked them out of our space, but we always knew they’d be back.”
It wasn’t her force’s job to stop incursions, especially the fleet variety. No, their job was to pick them up and let the people further up know what had passed through, and where it was most likely going.
“Third group coming through,” called out another Tech. The Republic still didn’t have many of the alien com wizards, and over half of what they had been given had been assigned to picket duty.
The third group appeared at the very edge of her patrol area, and this one made her sit up and take notice. Over two hundred ships, fifty of them superbattleships, it was the largest incursion to date to come through her zone. And three more or less simultaneous incursions were also something new.
This may not be the invasion, she thought, looking at the three blinking icons on the plot, and wondering how many others might be coming through in places they didn’t have sensor coverage. But it’s definitely the preliminary.
* * *
CAPITULUM. SEPTEMBER 2ND, 1002.
“We’ve got another one, your Majesty,” said McCullom over the holo.
Sean was in his office at the palace, going over a speech he was soon to make to the joint Houses of Parliament. He had to hit a hopeful tone that projected victory, while at the same time cautioning the members that not everything was going their way. At least with people like Zhee no longer in the wings, the job has become easier, he thought. Not that there still weren’t a few obstructionists in Parliament, but none with the dedication of the Countess.
And if someone had told me three years ago that I would be the dedicated politician, I would have laughed at them, thought the Emperor. Even though he held more political power in his hands than probably any Emperor Post Constitution, and more military might than any previous monarch in human history, at times it still seemed like he was herding cats.
“What did you get?” asked Sean after stifling a yawn and wondering if he was ever going to get enough sleep.
“One of their battleships was creeping around a developing world,” said the Chief of Naval Operations, who looked as if she could use a little more sleep herself. “He got a little too cute, and one of our stealth/attack ships caught him just beyond the hyper barrier. A couple of missiles and a spine laser hit along his upper hyperdrive array, and there was no way he was going to escape. One of our battleships took him out in a close range duel.”
A small creature jumped up into the Emperor’s lap, startling him for a second before he realized that it was the cat the Duchess Mei had given him. He ran his hand through the soft fur of the Himalayan and received a deep pure in return. “Did we lose anything?”
“The battleship suffered some damage, and, of course, some loss of crew. But she took out the enemy battleship and her cruiser without a problem.”
“And that leaves what? Three more of their raider teams?”
“A battleship and two battle cruisers that we know of, your Majesty. And really no reason to believe there are any others.”
And there was no reason to believe there were any at one time, thought the Emperor. Like most border regions, there was just too much area to cover, something that made it possible for smugglers to work across the borders of star nations with some success. There could be a score of Fenri raiders working their way into the Empire right now. That no more had been detected was about the only hopeful sign, as it was almost a certainty that some roving patrol or other would come across one or more of them.
“What word on the operations against the Fenri?” asked Sean, knowing that the only way to protect his people from more raiders was to take that Empire out.
“They’re, persistent,” said McCullom with a frown. “Every time Admiral Lenkowski thinks he has them, they slip some of their force away. But he’s whittling them down, bit by bit. Every encounter takes out some of their fleet, and they can’t have much in the way of industrial capacity left.”
“Let’s hope not,” agreed Sean, stroking his pet, then looking down as another of the palace cats stroked his leg, looking for attention. Sean patted it on the head for a moment, then looked back at his senior Admiral. “We need to capture the son of a bitch who leads the
ir Empire, Admiral. If he orders them to stand down, they’ll do it. And until he does, they’ll keep fighting.”
“And we’ll keep looking for him, your Majesty. But I’m afraid we’re more likely to destroy their fleet first. Either way, they can’t have much more fight in them.”
“And make sure you get some rest, Sondra. You can only keep pushing it so hard for so long before the crash.”
“Is that an order, your Majesty?” the Admiral asked with a slight smile.
“It is indeed,” said Sean with a stern look.
“Then maybe you should follow your own advice, sir. I know for a fact that you’re almost always up and doing something.”
“Spying on me, Admiral?”
“I don’t have to, your Majesty. I only have to check the com logs to see when you are talking to me and my people, and there’s not been a lot of room for sleep in that schedule.”
Sean yawned, then laughed as the second cat joined the first in his lap. “Point taken, Admiral. I’m for bed now.” And Parliament will just have to deal with my best effort.
Lying in bed, despite his exhaustion, Sean was having trouble falling asleep. Jennifer breathed softly on the bed next to him, in a deep sleep he could only envy. Something was tugging at his thoughts, a premonition that sleep would bring something he really didn’t want. So he fought sleep, until he could fight it no more, and finally dropped into a black chasm.
The first dream was normal, one of him as a child, roaming the grounds of the palace, playing with several of the many dogs his father kept. One of the dogs had cornered a palace cat in a tree, and the frightened feline looked down from its perch until Sean shooed the dogs away to let it come down. He picked up the cat after it landed softly on the ground and carried it into the house, away from the dogs who could smell its fear. One of the dogs jumped up, yipping, and the frightened cat struggled to get out of his grasp, digging a hind claw into the lobe of his right ear and ripping out. Sean ran crying into the palace, running to his mother, holding onto the ear that was dripping blood.
The dream ended, and the next began moments later. Despite his deep sleep Sean could sense that this one was different. This was one that would tell him something he didn’t want to know. And as soon as it started he realized he had seen these images before, a very bad sign, one that signaled that whatever he was seeing was looming in the near future.
His vantage point was on the surface of Jewel, standing before the great Reformed Catholic cathedral in Capitulum. He was looking up, high into the sky, at the streaks of fire that were coming down from space.
The first of the kinetics, for such he recognized them to be, hit a megascraper a couple of kilometers away, ripping through the building made of the toughest construction materials known, tumbling parts of the structure into the street below where they crushed vehicles and pedestrians. Smoke rose and the ground shook, then shook again over and over as more projectiles crashed into the city. Some took out buildings, including one that struck the cathedral to his back and converted it into a falling pile of rubble. Others hit much harder, and flashes of fire preceded rising mushroom clouds as megatons of force were released. Waves of force and fire swept out engulfing everything in their path.
Sean looked up, trying to see where the projectiles were coming from, to catch sight of an Imperial battleship falling through the air, flaming from friction, to land on the Imperial Zoo twenty kilometers distant. Sirens were sounding, barely audible over the crashing and booming of explosions, emergency vehicles responding to a crisis they couldn’t hope to cope with.
Resources that could respond, were. Laser and kinetic batteries on the outskirts of the enormous city were engaging targets in orbit. Lasers, normally invisible in both atmosphere and vacuum, were very visible as they transited the smoke filled air. Particle beams were made visible as red beams caused by the friction of the hyper-velocity protons with the air. Outgoing kinetics were all but invisible, only seen by a quick flash of air converted to plasma. They were more noticeable by the deep sonic boom of an object penetrating the atmosphere at thousands of times the speed of sound. Secondary were the swirling clouds of smoke caused for up to tens of kilometers from the cannon.
The Emperor couldn’t see what was happening above the atmosphere, though he was sure whatever was out there was catching hell. That didn’t help his capital, which was being hammered to rubble. He felt some anxiety as that dream thought went through his mind, and in the manner of dreams he elevated into the air. The city to the east was a burning mess, half the skyscrapers and megascrapers turned to rubble, many of the rest leaning in aspects of obvious structural damage. Far to the west a large cloud of smoke hung over the massive Constance the Great landing field, and Sean could see several large craters near the center of the facility. And then his attention was caught by the palace. Or the place where the palace had stood, now occupied by a large crater. All of the outbuildings had been blown down, and the forests on the grounds were ablaze.
He stared in horror at the remains of his home. The crater was deep, the sign of a massive and fast moving kinetic. He didn’t doubt that the crater went deep enough to have excavated or collapsed most of the substructure, including the emergency shelter. All dead, he thought. There was no way there could have been survivors from such a strike. Only those not home, or those who had been able to evacuate in time, were still alive.
This version of the dream was much more detailed than the others. It meant the incident probability was firming up, reaching for surety. The only thing the dream didn’t give him was a time frame. Tomorrow? A year from now? Ten?
“Sean,” said a familiar voice and something shook him. “Sean. Wake up honey.”
The Emperor’s eyes popped open, to see the beautiful face of his wife looking down on him. He could feel the cold sweat beading on his skin, and his muscles were trembling.
“You were having one of your dreams,” she said, running a hand over his chest.
“I don’t think it was a prophetic vision,” said Sean, lying to protect his wife, while not realizing that he was setting the lie into his own half-awake memory. “Just a bad dream.” And nothing that I can do anything about, except for keeping the bastards away from my capital. He didn’t think it would be that difficult, since any Caca task force would have to fight its way through over two thousand light years of his Empire.
Chapter Twelve
People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election.
Otto von Bismarck
NEW TERRAN REPUBLIC, SEPTEMBER 2ND, 1002
“The shipyards are working at full capacity, Madame President,” said the manager of the industrial shipbuilding facility here in the Mangus system. “We will be turning out the first batch of the new destroyers in two weeks.”
President Julia Graham nodded as she looked over the hundreds of building slips that orbited the industrial world below. Every slip was full, many with ships that were nearing completion, others with vessels in the early stages of construction.
“All the destroyers are the new Imperial designs?” she asked, knowing that was what had been ordered.
“Yes, ma’am. In the proportions ordered. Half are the missile defense ships, while twenty five percent each are scout or strike versions.”
So the one good thing about losing over half our fleet to the Cacas is that we get to build a more modern force, thought the President with a frown, not forgetting that the loss of half her fleet also meant the loss of millions of experienced crew. And not only because they had skills that would be hard to replace, but because they were citizens. In the Republic the individual was considered important just for being a unique being, even more so than in the Empire.
“And when can we expect the first battleships?” She didn’t ask this manager about inertialess fighters, since none of them, or their carriers, were under construction here. This manager didn’t need to know anything about those assets. Not that they would have many of them to
start, since they had very little in the way of negative matter production at moment.
“You can expect the first of the hyper VII battleships in a little under a year,” said the Manager, closing his eyes to link into his own system. “Two months later we will be able to clear all the building slips, giving the fleet those ships.”
“And that’s what? Fifty ships?” While that was a great number for any shipyard, it was not what they needed. One problem was that they were building only hyper VII ships, which required four times the mass of supermetals of a VI ship of the same class. But since the Cacas used only hyper VII ships, she had to agree with Sean that they needed to produce that type of ship exclusively. They were building more supermetal production facilities to meet the need, which took more time and industrial resources.
“Actually, fifty-four,” said the Manager. “We should be able to shave off a couple of months for the next group, starting with the thirty-three ships we will start working on as soon as the new slips are ready.”
So we should have six hundred new hyper VII battleships by this time next year, thought the President, adding up all of their shipyards and the time needed to build those ships. She had always been good at math, to the point where she had achieved a PhD in advanced mathematical theory before turning to politics. If the Cacas give us that long.
She would have to work out the details with her cabinet on how to move all of this if it became necessary. They had lucked out the first time the Cacas had punched a path through the Republic.
The New Terran Republic was an irregularly shaped nation about eight hundred light years at its widest expanse. The Cacas had punched right through the center in a cylinder about sixty light years in diameter. They had penetrated the industrial core of the Republic, taking out all of the industry and most of the population. Fortunately, that had only accounted for about forty-five percent of the heavy industry in the Republic. They weren’t as strong as they had been, but history was full of examples of nations that had been pushed against the wall and continued to fight. Nations led by great statesmen who had assumed the mantel of war leaders.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 10: Search & Destroy Page 18
