Exodus: Empires at War: Book 06 - The Day of Battle

by Doug Dandridge

  “There is a high probability that they are striking the Donut with the intention of destroying it, your Majesty.”

  “I realize that, Admiral. All the more reason to get as many Marines on that station as we can, before they set off whatever it is they have brought along. All the better to overrun their positions. So get on the com and get those Marines moving, in full heavy armor, if they have it. And no one else in the Fleet is to know of this, unless they are already in the chain of communication.”

  “Won’t the ship commanders wonder why we’re taking their Marines, your Majesty?”

  “Then make something up that sounds plausible. These officers have other things to worry about at this time. Like this battle.”

  The com holo faded, immediately replaced by that of Admiral Lenkowski, coming through the wormhole net. And how long will it be up? thought the Emperor.

  Much of the system went through the Donut, transmitted from the many satellites that orbited the black hole along with the ring. Most wormhole com equipped ships had only one of the portals, used for multiple purposes. Most were attached to one or another of the satellites, though many of the early connections were still on the Donut. And there were a hundred wormholes on the station itself dedicated to the com net, routing signals from one satellite to another, and through the gates to planets. If the station was destroyed, then half the ships with wormhole coms would suddenly be cut off from the net as their own wormholes died. Many more hundreds would still be on the net, but that net would be disrupted, and ships might still be able to communicate with others a thousand light years away, while cut off from vessels light minutes distant.

  And if they took some of the wormhole gate rooms, or more than some, they could disrupt the Imperial forces without having to destroy the station, simply by knocking out those gates.

  And right in the middle of a battle would be the worst time for the net to fail.

  “We’re about to be hit by the enemy missiles,” said Len, a smile on his face.

  “Any problems, Len?”

  “We’re picking up the scout forces they left behind jumping into hyper,” said the Admiral.

  Sean’s mind was still focused on the Donut, and it took him a moment to realize just what the Admiral was saying. The enemy had dropped off scout forces of several hundred vessels on the way in, and those forces had sat out there, several of them beyond the deployments of the human vessels. The human forces out in the deeps were arrayed in many small groups, making them poor targets for a long range engagement, as the enemy would either have to fire many missiles at fewer ships, or spread them out in an inefficient pattern. Especially since the human ships were able to do what they were about to.

  “Are they coming toward you, or going away?” asked Sean. If they were going toward the human force, and congregating, they could destroy some task groups before the Imperial force could gather enough to battle them. If they were leaving, they would be the purview of Mgonda’s Hyper VII Battle Fleet.

  “Both,” said the Admiral. “And I’m afraid we’re going to have to concentrate some of our force to deal with the ones coming at us.”

  “Do what you have to do, Admiral, to protect your force. Even if that means advancing your timetable.”

  “Yes, your Majesty. We’re executing our first maneuver now.”

  * * *

  Grand Fleet Admiral Len Lenkowski turned away from the holo of the Emperor as the missiles on the tactical plot approached. He knew that the Caca missiles were all dual purpose, capable of translating and traversing hyper. But at the velocity they were traveling they would not be translating anywhere.

  Anastasia Romanov and her consorts shunted power to their hyperdrive projectors and opened the holes in space to the hyper I dimension, then boosted forward at two hundred gravities into the portals. The holes closed behind them, and they were surrounded in the red tinted space of the lower hyper dimension. In the following seconds the missiles that had been targeting the human ships flew by in normal space, unable due to their velocity to translate after the enemy. They immediately went into deceleration mode. It would take them hours to drop to a velocity where they could translate, another hour to come to rest where they could start a return trip back to the human fleet. They would run out of power well before they were in a position to make another attack, dropping out of hyper in catastrophic translations.

  “It worked to perfection, your Majesty,” said Len, turning back toward the holo of his Emperor. “It…”

  The holo died without warning, and Len looked at his Flag Com Officer with a question on his face. That officer was talking quickly to a holo of another officer.

  “What the hell just happened?” he asked the Com Officer as he walked over to her station.

  “Something interrupted the link,” said the flustered looking officer. “They’re trying to reroute it now at the Donut.”

  “Well, get it back up as soon as possible,” he said, turning back to the holo.

  “We have another problem, Admiral,” said the Tactical Officer, pointing at the holo, which was now showing the red vector arrows of enemy ships heading their way. “Over a hundred enemy ships are on their way to hit our force.”

  “And how many are coming here?” he asked, looking at the plot. “At us?”

  “I think all of them, Admiral.”

  * * *

  “Get him back,” yelled Sean over the com link.

  “The problem isn’t on our end, your Majesty,” said Kelso. “We still have contact with most of the Fleet, and the com is being sorted out on the Donut.

  “Beginning phase II,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  Sean nodded, then realized the officer couldn’t see his head nod. “Authorizing phase II, now.”

  He looked at the tactical plot, focusing on the enemy missiles that were coming his way, now ten minutes from impact. And the vector arrows of the ships that were hiding behind the planet, hundreds of them, many the most advanced type of antimissile ships in his inventory. He knew the ships were moving at their maximum acceleration, but it still looked like it was going to be a close race, and he didn’t want to play his last card just yet.

  Come on, he thought, staring at the plot. Come on.

  The ships started poking their noses around the edge of the planet. Sean knew the enemy was tracking them by their graviton emissions, that they already knew they were there. He expected the launch of a greater volley of missiles any second now, and he was not disappointed when thousands of red icons appeared on the plot. Every couple of seconds another thousand blossomed, until there were over twenty thousand missiles heading their way.

  And none of these will get above point three light, he thought, watching as the missiles birthed acceleration figures beneath their icons. The enemy was only traveling at point zero five eight light, on a deceleration profile that would bring them to a stop at the planet in a little over an hour. They were currently at sixty-three million kilometers from the planet, still out of practical beam range. And the missiles they had just fired would be coming in at point two five light, almost a crawl where missile warfare was concerned.

  But first we have to take out that initial wave, he thought, as the ships started to move into their defensive formations. The first wave was coming in at a respectable point eight-four light, and any that hit the planet would be a disaster.

  “Task groups are cycling counters,” called out the Tactical Officer, and the bloom of interceptors appeared on the plot. None of the ships were equipped with wormholes, one not being able to travel through another. Their interceptors were only able to able to accelerate at their normal rate, though that would be sufficient against such a small swarm. I can only hope, thought Sean, sending a wakeup call to Jennifer, knowing she would want to be here for this. “She’ll never forgive me if she dies and isn’t here for it,” he whispered to himself, trying to find some levity in a situation that had very little.

  The first missile arrows began to fal
l off the plot, followed thirty-two seconds later by bright flashes of antimatter warheads detonating in silence. The plot was also tracking the beam fire of the Imperial vessels, a crisscross of lines weaving through the vacuum, trying to make long enough contact to blow incoming weapons out of space. Some made contact. Some even made contact long enough to cause damage to a missile. And some of those were damaged enough to explode in space.

  Counters were still going forth, taking out some missiles here and there, and as the missiles got closer the beam weapons started getting more hits. And at five seconds out, the remaining missiles met a hail of pellets from thousands of automatic weapons. More missiles exploded, but some got through, even those really too damaged to do anything more than fly straight ahead at the current velocity.

  One hit a destroyer, turning it into expanding plasma. Then another, then a cruiser. One battleship took a glancing blow that killed most aboard while spinning the fifteen million ton ship off into space. Several missiles made it through the naval force that was not their primary target, aiming for the fortresses that were what was available at the time they were launched. The faux fortresses opened fire with their defensive weapons, as did the superfreighters that were in orbit with them. Still, two fortresses went up from multiple hits, and the third was damaged from a near miss proximity hit. And one missile went into the planet, while the Emperor held his breath.

  * * *

  Father Matias Josue sat on the plains with his flock, twelve tribes from the region. The natives sat around the fires, their grotesque faces tilted to the sky. The beautiful nebula took up a good portion of those heavens, now as brilliant as always. Lights from the false cities no longer intruded on the splendor of the sky, having been switched off moments before, their purpose served. The sky was full of stars, and unusual companions that flared brightly, then faded to nothing.

  They don’t really understand what they are looking at, thought the Priest, watching as the shamans from all the tribes danced around the fire and called out to their Gods. He said a quick prayer to his own deity, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to ask for all the divine help possible. Not that God has seen fit to intervene in this war, as of yet. Or any other wars I have ever heard of.

  He looked around the fire at the many faces, some very familiar to him, others not so much. And a couple of familiar ones missing. I told them not to attack the cities, he thought, wincing at the injuries on some of the faces. He had to admit that the Marines had not gone out of their way to be cruel. In fact, they had not used any weapons, only the hard metal strength of their battle armor. But men with the strength of twenty, against sentients with bodies softer than most, was a recipe for disaster.

  Some more explosions flared, and from the brilliance he could tell they were getting closer. Then came a few very large flashes, followed by a trio of flares that seemed to fill the sky with their brilliance. And then, what the Priest had been dreading, a streak of light instantaneously linked the sky with the ground to the far north. The flare this time was truly colossal, growing, then fading over minutes of time. A mushroom cloud rose to the heavens, also of titanic proportions.

  The Priest, once a geologist, estimated the distance from the size of the fireball, small in the distance, and his knowledge of relativistic weapons. If I’m right, that thing struck the north polar continent, over four thousand kilometers away. So we should be safe from the blast wave. But.

  They waited for the first tremor, which hit some time later, a mild shock that caused the natives, all on their feet and staring at the far distant mushroom cloud, to yell out in fright. The fireball they couldn’t understand, the moving of the earth they could. The second tremor came along moments later, then a series that continued one after the other, each growing stronger. They were on the plains, there was nothing to fall on them. But the earth opened up in several places, crevices that grew across the landscape. Animals trumpeted in distress and ran. Most made it away from the opening earth, some fell in, and many fell injured to the ground.

  “Everyone stay still,” yelled the Priest, lying on the ground where he fell. “You will just damage yourselves.”

  They were still lying there much later, when the earsplitting roar of the distant explosion reached them.

  * * *

  Sean stared in horror as the intact missile missed the target fortress and zipped into the atmosphere of the planet. It came in at a shallow angle to the pole, streaking through one of the thickest slices of the atmosphere. There was no fireball, no burning reentry, just a streak of light as the missile flew through the gas in microseconds, too fast for the eye to follow.

  And then it struck, right into a polar cap that was even thicker than normal due to the planetary ice age. With a blast billions of tons of ice were thrown into the atmosphere, most to melt almost immediately, some, the larger chunks, to rise out of the atmosphere before plunging back down to strike ground or water. The blast wave moved out as the fireball rose into the atmosphere. The wall of fire scoured the surface of the ice a kilometer deep, throwing more water and vapor into the atmosphere.

  “It’s a catastrophe,” he told Jennifer as she walked into the room.

  “What happened?”

  “And enemy missile struck the planet, and it’s my fault,” cried Sean. “If I hadn’t have specified this system for the bait, I wouldn’t have put that ecosystem at risk.”

  The view on the holo was horrifying. A glowing red spot where the crust had been breached, magma rising into the sky while walls of ice cascaded into the widening melt zone. Steam and water vapor rising into the sky, forming a swirling cloud pattern that had the look of a super storm.

  The com holos sprung to life, several senior officers trying to contact the Emperor and not getting an answer.

  “Worry about this later,” shouted Jennifer, grabbing Sean by the shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it right now. There’s a battle to fight, so fight it.”

  “You’re right,” said Sean, shaking off the shock. He took one more look at the planet, then to the holos. “I will make this right. I swear I will.” He linked back into the com. “All ships, fire all missiles in magazines at the enemy fleet. Repeat, all missiles. And start moving the wormhole gate into position.” He checked the timer and winced, wondering if he had waited too long. “Move it, now. As fast as possible, and align it on the enemy fleet.” Now you pay for this, you bastards. At least one payment of many.

  * * *

  “Two of their forts were taken out,” said the Tactical Officer, as the icons blinked off of the plot. “One missile has hit the planet.”

  “Not my fault,” said the Great Admiral in a low voice. His rules of engagement were such that he couldn’t indiscriminately fire at life bearing planets. Such was against the tenants of his race’s biologically based religion. But a hit in combat, caused by the miss of a legitimate target, especially if that miss was caused by enemy action, was not against those tenants. That this was a complete case of rationalization was missed on the creatures that so rationalized.

  “What do you want to do, my Lord?” asked the Tactical Officer. “The enemy force ahead?”

  “Fire multiple volleys of missiles. I want their defenses overwhelmed.”

  “And as we get closer, my Lord? There is no way we can avoid closing with them.”

  “And why should we. We will destroy that fleet, then make our way back out.” He looked at the tactical plot once again. He paid particular attention to the Imperial Escort Squadron, still heading out of the system, and now trading missile volleys with a larger force of Ca’cadasans working their way in on a vector that would allow them to match with the enemy. I hope those fools don’t destroy that flagship. I want that Emperor, so I can torture the information I want out of him.

  * * *

  Jana Gorbachev stared into the tactical holo in the weapons’ center, willing the enemy to come closer. Her position as Weapons’ Master Chief was not one that allowed her actual control of the weapons
systems. Not unless something happened to someone further up the chain of command. She was merely a monitor, another pair of eyes and a mind making sure everything was functioning as it should.

  But she had been driven by a fury since she had escaped from the Cacas. The only thing going through her mind had been how to hurt them. How to destroy them. With her expertise with weapons control she had been able to work the system to give her command any time she wanted it. And now she wanted it.

  Without waiting for command, her rage the only thing that mattered to her in this moment, she keyed in the sequence that turned control of the weapons to her. As soon as the panel lit up, indicating that she had control, she locked in the firing coordinates.

  “Ma’am,” yelled out one of the techs, staring at his board. “We have a problem.”

  “What is it?” asked Commander Sheila McGregor, walking up behind the tech, putting a gauntlet on the back of the chair and staring at the display. “What the hell,” she said, then looked more closely at the board, then over at Gorbachev. “Master Chief? What are you doing?”

  Jana glanced at the officer, then back at her board, a smile stretching her face. And she hit the commit button.

  * * *

  “What the hell is going on?” shouted Sean as the great bulk of Augustine I shook underfoot.

  “The ship has opened fire on the enemy,” shouted the Captain of the vessel, Montoya. “Particle beams, lasers, all the missile tubes.”

  “I didn’t order any such fire,” yelled Sean. “Who is responsible?”

  “One of the crew went crazy and took control of the system,” said a voice that Sean recognized as Commander Sheila McGregor, the Weapons’ Officer of the ship.

  “Do you have control of the systems back?” asked the Emperor, knowing as soon as he asked that they hadn’t, since the ship was still was vibrating underfoot.