Mrastaran wasn't afraid of the challenge. He was the unusual male who had both intelligence and had trained himself in close weapon combat. His physical prowess was above average, and his skill with a blade was without peer. Which didn't mean he couldn't die to some lucky warrior. That would be a waste. The great admiral knew that he was among the more intelligent males in the Empire, and his loss would hurt the war effort, when his position would be taken by some idiot who couldn't fight a single ship, much less a fleet.
The left wing would have a quarter of the fleet, enough ships to win a major combat against most other forces. Not enough to beat the enemy fleet by itself.
“Great Admiral Lokastar will lead the right wing,” said the fleet commander as he moved the pointer and looked over at the third ranking admiral, actually present in the chamber. Lokastar was not the most intimidating of males, standing just over two and a quarter meters. He was also one of the more intelligent ones, from a noble family that had left him a lot of money. That had allowed him to buy the protection he had needed, making sure anyone who challenged him met a quick end before the actual combat. Not exactly according to tradition, but the Empire wasn't about to challenge him for that decision.
The right wing also had a quarter of the fleet, including almost a third of the ground troops, since his area had the greater number of target planets within it.
“We will move as a unit,” he told the other admirals, moving the pointer, his central force moving with it into enemy territory. He did the same with each of the other two forces. “We will stay within twenty light years of each other, with wormhole gates open as soon as we enter a system. That way we can reinforce each other.”
“Why not spread out more?” asked Tonnasar, a confused look on his face.
“Because the humans have shown a proclivity for defeating out forces in detail,” said Admiral Lokastar, making a head motion of agreement. “If we keep our forces together, we can meet them in a decisive battle. Or possibly defeat them in detail, using their own tactics against them.”
“Admiral Lokastar knows the way of it,” said Mrastaran, showing a predatory smile. “Even though our numbers are comparable, the humans have the superior weapons with their numbers of wormholes.”
At least they don't have as many on this front as they have on the other, thought the fleet commander. That gave him a chance for victory.
“If we can rally our ships in one system to fight one small force, totally destroy them, then move on to the next, we should be able to take out the mass of their fleet. After that we can run into Klavarta space and strike at their industrial heart. When we take out those systems, the war is won.”
He really wasn't sure that would work. They would surely meet him in space with large forces, and not allow him to just roll up systems and small defense forces. He had planned for that, hoping that the Klavarta would try to defeat him in detail. Then he would use his own wormholes to consolidate and strike in a way the enemy had never seen from their foe.
“They have new allies,” said Tonnasar, his holo face grimacing. “The humans from the other Empire were able to work diplomatic miracles and bring more of them on board.”
Mrastaran grimaced himself. He hadn't been told to expect any forces other than those of the Klavarta and the Imperials that had been lent to them. After all, the Xenophobia of the Klavarta had alienated them from most of the other species in the region.
“They're really nothing,” said Lokastar, a hungry smile on his face. “Just prey, really. Hyper VI ships, and weapons no better than the humans had a century ago.”
“They might be somewhat better than that by now,” said Tonnasar, an intelligent comment that took Mrastaran by surprise. “The humans have a tendency to give their tech to people willing to fight on their side. They put future problems in the future, where they belong.”
“No matter,” growled the fleet commander, balling up his four fists. “My strategy will still work. We will crush the humans, both types. We will remove this star nation from the playing board, and the humans on the other side of the Empire will face the full might of our military. In the name of the Emperor.”
He still wasn't sure that the humans on the other side of the Empire were able to be defeated. At least not under the current leadership, with their penchant for rash decisions that amounted to nothing but great losses for little return. Perhaps, if he were in charge, he could turn the situation on that front around. Or maybe not. The war might already be lost on that front, which meant overall defeat for the species. That didn't mean that he wouldn't do his all to win for the Empire, no matter how hopeless.
Stop it, he thought, closing his eyes and grimacing. You are going to convince yourself that the humans are supermen. They're just other beings, with no other destiny beyond their fight for survival, just like us.
The other admirals gave the Ca'cadasan victory salute, lower arms crossing over their chests while their upper arms reached into the air.
“And remember,” he said in a low tone, looking from face to face. “Both of you are to contact me and let me know your intentions before you do anything. Understand?”
Lokastar gave a head motion of agreement, while Tonnasar glared at Mrastaran for a moment before giving the same sideways nod. Mrastaran looked over at the second admiral, wondering if he would have any problems with him. Ca'cadasans could be a headstrong people, and it wouldn't surprise him if the other great admiral did something stupid in a quest for individual glory. Well, he would have people close to that male, ready to put a beam through his head if need be. No matter what, the glory would belong to one Mrastaran Hlrata. Victory to the Empire, he thought, no matter how undeserving the new Emperor was of such victory. Well, he wasn't fighting for that little shit, now was he?
* * *
“The scouts are approaching the frontier, Great Admiral,” said the com officer on the flag bridge, looking back at his commander.
Mrastaran grinned as he watched the mass of scouts moving through hyper VII, tracked through their graviton emissions. Every few minutes one of the scouts would grav pulse, sending information back to the next layer, the supercruisers lined up in relays back to the main fleet. Of course the scouts were giving themselves away from a greater distance than would be the case if they simply boosted in through hyper without pulsing. But then they wouldn't be accomplishing the main part of their mission, which had little to do with scouting, and everything to do with giving the enemy an appreciation of what was coming into their space.
The great admiral really didn't care if the enemy saw his force coming. It would have been wonderful if he had as many wormholes as the enemy, and would have been able to communicate instantaneously without giving the enemy undue notice. And if they had the new aliens the humans had somehow discovered, all of their communications problems would have been solved.
Since he didn't have either of those options he had decided to use his disadvantage to his benefit. The line of scouts was spread out much further than the area of operations for the battle groups. The enemy would have to respond to all the scouts, thinking that this was going to be a wide front offensive. The great admiral was thinking that they would spread themselves out to handle all the possible battle forces that might appear behind the front. And if they did, they would have presented fat targets for his three battle fleets to hit.
Showing them what they expect to see, thought the great admiral with a snort that attracted the attention of all the officers on the bridge. It was a human saying, used by many commanders in many of their numerous wars. And the people in the next war, and the next after that, fell for it again and again. So why wouldn't these Klavarta, who had never seen this tactic prior to this moment?
The scouts were the four hundred thousand ton equivalents of the human destroyers. They had much more powerful light amp weapons, especially the newer ones that were built with laser rings like those of the human ships. They weren't much more powerful in their missile batteries, even
though they had more weapons in their magazines. The human missiles had a higher rate of acceleration than their Ca'cadasan equivalents, making them much better weapons. Faster and harder hitting.
It had made sense at one time to make the Ca'cadasan scouts so large. They had similar sized crews to the ships of the humans, but carried an individual mass over twice that of the smaller sophonts. Unfortunately, the larger Ca'cadasan scout ships couldn't cover as much space as twice their number of human ships. If Mrastaran had his way they would go on a crash ship design and building program to make more of the scouts, while still concentrating on the larger capital ships that were needed to actually win the battle after the smaller ships fixed the enemy.
“We have ships ahead grav pulsing,” said one of the com techs, reading the grav pulses from some of the scouts. “The small Klavarta version of scout/escorts.”
Mrastaran gave a predator’s grin. The Klavarta scouts were larger than they had been at the beginning of the war. They still massed barely more than one hundred and twenty thousand tons. They were mainly missile ships, able to boost in with numbers and release swarms of missiles, then swerve away. In close combat they were next to useless, not able to take many hits before being blown out of space.
I hope those captains remember their orders, thought Mrastaran, looked at the plot that was filling in with enemy ships as the data came back through grav pulse, relayed from ship to ship. It was a clunky method compared to what the humans used, but it was working. And in a way it was enough to confuse the Klavarta who were monitoring them. And any captain who didn't follow his orders to the letter would pay dearly. Not their families, such as some vindictive commanders would insist on. That wasn't his way. But those who failed him would pay.
The scouts were moving at point three two light in hyper VII, not letting them move as fast as possible. But it gave them the advantage of being able to fire missiles with the minimum of deceleration before they jumped into another dimension, hyper or normal space.
“Scouts are engaging,” called out the com tech, reading the take on the grav pulses. “We have hits. The enemy is returning fire.”
That was to be expected, as were a number of hits. But the Ca'cadasan force had their momentum added to the missiles, less the little bit of decel, while the Klavarta were disadvantaged in many respects. Standing still in space, mostly, or moving away, and their missiles didn't have the momentum of their launching ships to add to their initial velocity. They could use the momentum of the invading force against them, of course, but if they were moving away they lost most of that velocity.
“We're getting enemy ships falling off the plot,” called out a sensor tech, eyes wide as he looked back at his admiral. “Now some of ours,” he said in a lowered voice.
To be expected, thought the admiral, giving the male a slight smile meant to calm his nerves. It wasn't the male's fault if what he had to report was bad news, and maybe not even that.
“What's the ratio?” asked the great admiral, scratching on a horn, cursing himself at a reveal of anxiety that too many of the species couldn't suppress.
“Six to one, so far,” said the tech.
The great admiral had to think about that ratio for a moment. Four to one would still be a victory for his side, four hundred and eighty thousand tons versus a mere four hundred thousand. Six to one gave him a tonnage advantage of seven hundred and twenty thousand to four hundred thousand. A victory, but not what he thought was optimum. The enemy would have about fifty percent more tonnage in this battle than he had. The exchange that would benefit him would come when they joined battle with a major enemy force. Or so he hoped.
“We're starting to run into larger Klavarta groups,” said the com tech. “A half dozen ships or more, some in cruiser class.”
That was also to be expected. The frontier force was backstopped by larger strike groups, common Klavarta tactics. And further back would be groups of heavier ships. He would run through all of them, getting the reaction he wanted from the enemy. Eventually the large battle groups would appear, and then he would get the favorable exchange rate he was looking for.
“Move our cruisers forward,” ordered the great admiral.
Behind his wall of scouts were a smaller force of supercruisers. At four million tons each, they were more than twice the tonnage and firepower of the Imperial heavy cruisers. The Klavarta cruisers were even smaller, the light variety pushing the scales at five hundred thousand tons, the heavy type hitting one point two million. Neither was a match for the supercruiser, but in large numbers they were still dangerous craft.
The supercruisers were deployed in groups of four, sixteen million tons of warships, the same as one New Terran battleship. Now they accelerated forward, taking about an hour to come up with the scouts, decel, and start sending their own missiles into the fray.
Now we wait and see how they react, thought the great admiral, laughing low in his throat.
* * *
“What the hell are they up to?” asked Vice Admiral Isola Klavaras, the commander of battle group Delta Seven, a mostly Klavarta force that was backing up the central sector of the frontier.
When the main battle fleet moved up to start the next offensive Klavaras' force would be subsumed into a much larger fleet and command would no longer be hers. On a quiet front what she had was large enough to challenge any probe the Cacas might mount. The front had suddenly, without warning, turned into anything but quiet, and the mass of ships heading her way had to be hiding a huge number of sledgehammers that were prepared to smash New Earth systems.
Klavaras had twelve of the Klavarta version of battleships, the newer type at sixteen million tons, though she still had some ten million tonners. She had one fleet carrier with one hundred and fifty normal space fighters, as well as thirty-one heavy and light cruisers and sixty-two scouts. It was a large enough force to take on any conceivable probe, a scout force. But not anything larger.
“We're getting a message from Admiral Klanarat,” called out the Klassekian com tech, sitting at the end of the bank of com stations.
The Alpha still wasn't used to the new aliens. Of course, she had been raised in the old xenophobic culture of the Klavarta nations, as taught by the clones who had run the government for over a thousand years. She no longer ascribed to that xenophobia, but it was hard to get rid of the deep feelings she had been raised with. It was difficult thinking of any aliens as her equal, though from all the measures she had read the Klassekians were as good as human, and better in many respects. She dismissed those thoughts, which she no longer had time for with everything else going on.
“Admiral.”
“What do you think is going on out there?” asked the Alpha who was the supreme naval commander on this front.
“I think the Cacas are moving at us on a wide front,” said the vice admiral, looking at her plot. “They are probably going to hit everything they can and do the most damage possible. From there, I'm not sure. They could either continue to push in, or fall back and try to tempt us to come after them.”
“I agree,” said the supreme commander, nodding. “I need you to hit whatever comes through their front as hard as you can. I will be ordering every force along the front to do the same. I want them hit hard before they can attack our holdings out there. The main fleet will be moving up behind you, splitting to support whatever attacks are running into too much to handle.”
And if I'm one of the forces who runs into too much to handle? thought the admiral, a shiver running up her spine. That was a possibility. But if the Cacas were attacking on a wide front, spread out where they couldn't support one another, the odds were against that.
“We'll be moving into the attack within four hours,” said Klavaras, checking the clock over the tactical plot, then nodding to her superior officer.
And maybe then we'll find out just what this is all about.
* * *
“You will defend us from the masters, yes?” pleaded the young female nativ
e of the ex-Caca world of Pleisia.
The sophont looked very much like some of the marsupials that had come from ancient Earth and had been transplanted to terraformed worlds. Large hopping legs, long arms, a snouted face. The fur was solid black, the eyes a shade of sky blue, and the baby the female carried was on her back in a carrier, and not in the pouch the life-form didn't have.
“We will not let your former masters harm you,” said Captain Xferd Canara, a warrior of the Klavarta people.
The Klavarta warrior towered over the native, and his fierce expression, along with his sharp claws and teeth, were not something to engender calm in the general population. Fortunately, the actions of the warriors with the natives had been above reproach, and they had come to be regarded as protectors.
Some protectors we will be if the Cacas come back into this system in force, thought the warrior officer, watching as the female hopped away, sleeping baby on her back. There were two divisions of warriors on the surface, over forty thousand men, and soldiers of the engineer line had been swiftly installing defenses against bombardment from space and landings. Not that anyone expected that to help against a battle fleet that could stand off out of range of the defensive weapons and pound the planet to ruble.
“How goes your sweep, Captain?” asked a voice over the com bud in the officer's ear.
Canara looked back at the squad that was following some distance behind. The twelve warriors, males and females both, wore strap on armor and carried particle beam rifles, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and not succeeding very well. They weren't built to look non-threatening. Still, the people went about their business, walking, talking and shopping.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 4
