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

by Doug Dandridge

  At the moment the ship was running on the portside reactor, while the starboard unit was fed just enough antimatter to keep it warmed up. Computers could oversee all of the processes, but no human ship commander would allow that to happen. Living crew were always on watch, ready to step in and shut down a reactor, or start the other going, at a moment’s notice.

  “What did you hear?” asked Winston, who had been too busy tracking down a fluctuation in the active reactor’s feed mechanism to pay attention to tactical systems.

  “We’ve got some cruisers and destroyers alongside us now. I‘m thinking we might see some action.”

  The woman was smiling as she spoke, and Winston was sure that some of those smiles were meant for him. While sex was forbidden between different ranking members of the same chain of command, such as he and the petty officer one rank below him, that didn’t always stop it from happening. But Nagawa was not attracted to women. He hadn’t made that clear to everyone aboard the ship, and didn’t feel that he needed to. After all, his sex life was his to share or not, and he was a private person in most respects.

  He checked on the tactical net while he was thinking, and was not surprised to see that they were still outclassed by the Fenri capital ship. That didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be action. He just thought that any kind of action a small force of light cruisers and destroyers might pursue would not be exciting. Or maybe it would be exciting, until they were all blown out of space.

  “I would rather we had gotten reinforced by a battleship,” said Nagawa, frowning. “Then we could let the battleship go toe to toe, while we sit back and watch.”

  “Should have expected as much from a merchy,” said the woman with a huff. “All luxury and safety for you people. No sense of adventure.”

  Boros turned her back and stormed away. Winston thought he might have disappointed her, not being a man of action and all. Not that it mattered, as she was the wrong gender for him. He was still tempted to call her back, to rake her over the coals for showing him such disrespect as to turn her back and storm off, when he was her superior. But after thinking about it a moment he decided to let it lie. As long as she did her job, and didn’t try to interfere with him doing his, she could be angry.

  * * *

  “Any change in the status of the enemy ships?” asked the Lord of Millions, looking at the tactical plot. He could see the enemy ships himself, a total of nine vessels, where only two had been following not too many hours ago.

  “No, my Lord,” said the Sensor Operator. “They still scan as large and small escort vessels. Nothing that should worry us.”

  And that is for me to decide, thought the force commander, glaring at the female who was interpreting his ship’s sensor feeds. While on a computer simulation it would seem that the force following his would not have a chance in a battle, battles were not fought in simulations. In real battles the unexpected tended to happen, and a lucky hit could cripple his ship, making him an easy hunt and kill for any capital ships that happened to come around.

  The Sensor Operator looked down to the floor, the aspect of subservience that should have been her response to the glare of a superior. It really didn’t matter if she realized what had prompted that glare, only that she realize that she needed to watch what she said and did around those who controlled her fate.

  Of course, since the enemy ships remained in the higher dimension, one he couldn’t reach, there was little he could do about them. He didn’t have the materials to build more hyper VII missiles, not unless he wanted to cut into his hyper VI missile inventory. He had a feeling he would be needing all of those weapons. And there were too many ships for him to take out with a couple of jury rigged weapons. If he didn’t get all of them, whatever was left would continue to trail him.

  “Driver. Change heading for that star,” he ordered, pointing to an F class orb on the plot about seven light years to port. It appeared on their charts as another frontier world, one which would have less than a half million humans, but would also have a less than formidable defense. One he could probably destroy with a couple of spreads of normal space missiles. And he had plenty of those. “Time to normal space translation outside of that system.”

  “Approximately eleven hours, my Lord.”

  “Then let us get there as fast as we can. And then maybe, just maybe, we can do something to take some of the attention off of us.”

  * * *

  “The enemy battle cruiser has changed course, sir,” said the Lt. Junior Grade, the officer in charge of the communications division aboard the ship, and the specialist on duty on the bridge at that moment.

  “Will their course change mean we come upon them sooner, or later” asked Captain Xerxes Pappilon, the commanding officer of the heavy cruiser Vincenzo, as well as the force commander of the two ship division made up of his vessel and the heavy cruiser Harbin.

  His force was the most powerful for over forty light years in any direction, and the only one capable of reaching the enemy in less than four days. And, his ship happening to have a wormhole, by dint having been in the process of moving one out to Fenri front when the current situation developed, his was the only heavy force that command had been able to contact and vector onto the enemy.

  Each of the heavy cruisers massed one point six million tons, almost double that of a light cruiser, with corresponding increases in weapons and armor. Still not a match for a battle cruiser, but capable of getting in some heavy licks, while taking considerable punishment. Papillon hoped that he had many more ships under his command than these two when it came to action. He knew he would have the force following the Fenri at the moment, three light cruisers and six destroyers. And more had been promised, though command was not forthcoming in what those other forces might be.

  And it would be nice if we were hyper VII as well, thought the Captain. They were hyper VI, like most heavy cruisers in the fleet. If getting the wormhole to the Fenri front had been a priority, it would have gone by hyper VII ship, most likely a battle cruiser, which would have made this situation completely different. But they had what they had, and it was dependent on the hyper VII force currently in contact to herd the Fenri ship where they wanted it to go.

  “On their current heading, it will add twenty-seven hours to intercept,” said the Navigation Officer, looking up from her station. “If they veer any more to spinward, we might find ourselves in a stern chase, and then we could be looking at a half week or longer to catch up with them.” Before the enemy changed course, it had looked like they would make intercept in less than forty-eight hours. Now they were looking at seventy-five hours or more. And a lot of damage could be inflicted in seventy-five hours.

  “Unacceptable,” said the Captain, scowling. “Contact command. See if they can get the cruiser destroyer force to herd that battle cruiser back the way it was going. Or at least make sure they don’t go any further to spinward.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed the Com Officer, going back to working her board.

  And if that force can’t herd them, what else can they do? thought the Captain, going over the possibilities in his mind. They could attack and hope to cripple the battle cruiser, but probably get themselves killed. Could I ask that of them? I could, but would it be the right thing to do?

  Papillon couldn’t come up with an answer, sitting there in his command chair, light years from the action. All he could do was hope that the commander on the spot could come up with an answer that was eluding him. Before more hundreds of thousands of Imperial citizens lost their lives.

  * * *

  “I’m not really sure what we’re going to accomplish here, Captain Pasce,” said the Captain of the Tandridge over the laser com. Her dark eyes looked out of her Mediterranean face as she frowned. “I mean, those missiles are going to be coming in slow, no matter how close we drop them.”

  “And we really don’t need a hit, Captain Hernandez. All we need do is shake him up a little. Make him turn away from that system.”


  They were still over three hours from the Santaria system, home of the frontier world that seemed to be the Fenri ships’ next target. There were about two hundred thousand people in the system, mostly human, most on the prime target, the inhabited planet. One spread of missiles into a system would kill those people and everything else on the planet.

  Damned barbarians, thought Pasce, looking at a side holo that showed the blue globe of that planet, the fifth out from the F class star. It wasn’t a real time view, of course, since that system didn’t have any instantaneous communications assets. It was a memory trace from the cruiser’s databanks, filmed some years ago, when the system had boasted fifty thousand fewer citizens. Why the hell are they picking on such helpless targets?

  The Fenri were the only power that would strike purposefully at living planets, wiping out the biological diversity of those worlds. The humans and their longtime allies, along with the Crakista and Elysium governments, had signed treaties centuries before banning the use of relativistic weapons against inhabitable worlds. The Lasharans would not do so for religious reasons, despite worshipping what many characterized as a God of Death. Even the Cacas seemed unwilling to destroy living worlds, it was said for religious reasons. They had, in fact, destroyed some worlds in the Empire, but the captured leaders of the force that had been defeated had sworn that they were aberrations. Rumors had gone around stating that the Cacas would destroy worlds that were predominantly of Terran genetic stock, especially those terraformed, but no one seemed to know for sure.

  But the Fenri seemed intent on destroying as many human occupied worlds as possible, no matter how sparsely populated. It was an insane strategy, doing nothing to weaken the Empire, while stirring up what would become generations of animosity toward the Fenri. And we’re not going to let you have this one, thought Pasce, looking again at the beautiful blue world.

  “Collins and Jonathan Carter are signaling that they are making for the system at flank speed, sir.”

  “Wish them God speed. And let them know we’ll be launching our own attack in one hour.”

  He watched as the icons of the two destroyers, now accelerating flat out, headed for the edge of the sensor envelope. They would reach normal space outside the system in two hours, an hour before the Fenri would be able to drop out of hyper and launch. They would be able to get a warning to the planet an hour earlier than they would have gotten by tracking the incoming battle cruiser. It would take the missiles of the Fenri over six hours to reach the planet, giving them seven hours total. Seemingly not much, but maybe enough to get a larger percentage of the population off the bull’s eye.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

  Mahatma Gandhi

  “Two of their cruisers are closing in hyper VII,” called out one of the Sensor Techs.

  The Lord of Millions looked up from the holo he was studying in his cabin. Not anything of military significance, nothing of importance to the mission. Instead, it was a holo of a female of his species, dressed in the fine clothing of the noble class, sitting in a chamber that was obviously part of a manor house. With her were six smaller members of the species, three sets of twins, such as Fenri were genetically predisposed to birth. The children were in matched pairs of one male and one female, each pair two years apart from each other. Part of his family, who he missed dearly. They were in a safe place, he hoped, though if the humans found that they were the family of a Lord who had wiped out human worlds, he was not sure what would happen to them. That his actions were under the orders of his Emperor might not make enough of a difference.

  “What are they doing?” he asked, turning off the holo.

  “I don’t know, my Lord,” said the Bridge Manager, breaking into the com. “It’s possibly an attack.”

  “What is their current velocity in hyper?”

  “Point two six, my Lord,” said the Sensor Tech. “Well under their limit for hyper translation.”

  And his ships were currently decelerating toward the target system, at point five seven light. If they translate down they will be able to attack, but we will pull away from them in no time, he thought. He got up from his seat, almost grateful to get away from the logs he needed to complete, that he had been ignoring while engaging in daydreams about his other life, outside of the fleet. His life as a lord of a great holding, with millions of Fenri loyal to him, and many times that of slaves. Sealing up his uniform, he exited his day cabin and headed for the bridge, ignoring the salutes of his two bodyguards, who fell into step behind him.

  “We have a missile launch,” called out the Master of Battle as alarms went off over the bridge.

  “Where from?” grunted the Lord of Millions, breaking into a run for the bridge. He had received no word of the enemy ships translating down, so what in the hell could they be launching at? Unless they were pulling something similar to what he had done.

  The bridge hatch slid open as he approached, the pair of guards at that portal snapping off salutes and stepping aside. He rushed onto the bridge at the moment the enemy intent became apparent.

  “Each cruiser launched a trio of missiles, my Lord,” said the Master of Battle, looking up from her station. “They just translated down to VI, two light seconds away, and are driving at us at ten thousand gravities. We are taking them under fire.”

  “Time to impact?” he asked, plopping into his command chair and watching a three dimensional view of his ship going into evasive maneuvers.

  “Seven seconds,” replied the Master of Battle, as the ship fired every beam weapon she possessed. The missiles had appeared inside the counter missile envelope, and there had been no time to launch them. But the beams took out two of the enemy missiles, relatively slow moving as they were, with the first volley. The second took out another, the third another still, while the close in weapons opened up as soon as the missiles passed the one light second mark.

  Both missiles detonated close to the battle cruiser, sending heat and radiation into the hull. Damage klaxons sounded as the ship shook slightly.

  “Report,” shouted the Lord, looking at a schematic that showed a relatively few red areas.

  “Minor damage to the hull,” reported one of the bridge crew. “Two electromag projectors out.” The crewman looked over at his commander, a toothy smile on his face. “No other damage, my Lord.”

  “And the cruisers?”

  “Already falling back, my Lord,” said the Master of Battle. “It would seem that the attack is over.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” cautioned the commander. “They must have more hyper capable missiles, and I wouldn’t put it past them to try another attack if given the opportunity.”

  The Master of Battle bowed her head. “We will be ready for them, Lord.”

  “Now, if only we knew what happened to those destroyers they sent ahead,” said the Lord, looking at the tactical plot. “They may try another attack like that, using our own velocity against us.”

  The Master of Battle bowed her head again, then turned back to her station. And the Lord of Millions continued to stare at the tactical plot, still worrying about the destroyers.

  * * *

  “I still don’t see what we accomplished with that maneuver,”said Captain Gloria Hernandez over the com.

  “We’ve given them something else to think about,” said Pasce, watching as the battle cruiser continued to decelerate toward its objective. He didn’t see any change in its approach profile. And in VII they couldn’t see any of the minor damage they might have done the ships that were transiting VI.

  “Did you consider launching from the front, Pasce?” asked the other Captain, her brow furrowing. “Then we could have used their own velocity against them.”

  “Damn,” hissed Pasce, shaking his head. “I didn’t think of it. You’re right, of course, and I’m an idiot.” If he had launched ahead of the enemy, after dropping down to point two light, he could have translat
ed his missiles in front of the enemy ships with a closing speed of over point five c. It still might not have accomplished anything, but it would have made the missiles harder targets to engage, and they might have generated several very near misses, if not a hit.

  “You’re just tired, Francois,” replied the other Captain. “Lord knows, you’ve been on this bastard’s tail for almost a week now.”

  And she’s right, of course, thought Pasce, rubbing his eyes. But there was no way he could take more than cat naps. Not with nine ships his responsibility, and the end of the chase nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  “Maintain our position outside of the hyper barrier, Helm,” order Zhukov. “Send the same order to Carter.”

  The Commander looked at the plot that was showing the enemy battle cruiser dropping from hyper VI down to V, boosting its own graviton signal with each translation. As soon as it finished the drop it fell off the plot, no longer sending enough gravitons out to be picked up by the sensors of the destroyers.

  “We’re receiving grav pulse signals from the commander of the system defense frigates,” said the Klassekian Com Tech in heavily accented terranglo. “They acknowledge your directives and will comply.”