* * *
“We did the best we could, Admiral. Unfortunately, the physics of the engagement were against us.”
“You did what you could, Mara,” said Beata, looking at the plot. Her fleet was just a little over an hour from reaching normal space in the Pleisia system. Six more minutes from translation down to I, then a short trip in the lowest dimension of hyper. “They know you're out there, and you caused some damage to their fleet. They have to watch out for you.”
“We can't catch them, ma'am,” complained the scout force commander, glaring out of the holo. “Not until they're just about into the system. Do you want us to attempt an attack on them before they get there?”
“No,” said Beata, her stomach clenching at the thought of another translation coming up. The last couple had hit hard, and the next two promised to be worse. It would have been easier to simply translate from VII to normal space, but the time savings were worth it in a strategic sense. “Be ready to come in on my signal. You'll be a lot more useful to me setting up in firing position just outside the barrier.”
“And if they leave something out there to prevent that?”
“Then you can hammer them,” said Beata, a tight smile on her face. “Hit and run.”
A wide smile graced the face of the attractive redhead. “I will be happy to, ma'am.”
Chapter Ten
In my own life, I'm pretty good at choosing between good and bad. It's the choices between good and good I find the most difficult to make. Ally Condie
“Let's get a good look at our battle ground,” ordered Beata as soon as she had the translation nausea under control. Like most humans she was finding her tolerance for translation was going down with age. Fortunately, she could make sure everyone in her command knew what her wishes were before those translations so she could take care of the serious business of being sick.
“Real time plot coming up, now,” said her chief of staff, Captain Janssen.
The image of the system appeared in the holo tank at the center of the flag bridge. The bright F class star was a tiny dot in the center of the true scale representation. Arrows pointed to the objects in orbit, too small to be seen at the present scale. With a thought she zoomed in on Pleisia, the one habitable world in the system, though by far not the only body. Still, with almost four billion sentient beings living there, it was the object of most interest to her.
It was also her biggest problem. Any defense she conducted in this system put that world at risk. Missiles would be flying around at high relativistic speeds, and all it would take was one hit to kill hundreds of millions of people. Beata had to keep reminding herself of that. She knew nothing about that species, their culture, biology, they racial hopes and dreams. She had to force herself to not think of them as mere numbers on a ledger. Lose this many, and it's a victory. This many, and it's a defeat. They deserved better than that. Their world was lovely, as were most worlds that could be inhabited by oxygen breathing life forms. If she had her way it would continue to be lovely long after this battle was over.
“What are these objects in orbit?” she asked zooming in closer. A couple of large constructs appeared on the holo that opened up inside the plot.
“They look like space docks, ma'am. Possibly with habitats.”
That's right, she thought, recalling one of the endless number of holos she had viewed on the way here. Pleisia was being prepared as a forward fleet base for the next offensive, someplace ships could go back to for emergency repairs without having to travel the extra light years to their core worlds. If the system fell all of the resources already in place would be lost. Not enough to destroy the Nation of New Earth, but the loss might slow down the next offensive. If there even was one.
“What can we do with them?” she asked, staring at the station on the holo. “Besides evacuating everyone aboard?”
“We could turn them into weapon platforms,” said Janssen with a shrug. “Unfortunately, they won't have the protection of forts. Now over here,” he continued, as the holo switched views to another large construct, this one much more squat and massive looking. “We have an actual fort, put into place by the Klavarta. And again, unfortunately, it's not complete. It is armored, and has most of its electromagnetic projectors installed. What it's lacking is offensive weapons.”
“Put as many strap on launchers as it can handle on it,” ordered the admiral, looking at its orientation. “And make sure it’s in an orbital position to the side of the planet. I don't want misses plowing into the world.”
“Yes, ma'am,” agreed Janssen. “And might I suggest we do something with this large moon. It's going to be in a perfect blocking position at the time the Cacas attack.”
Beata zoomed in on that body, looking at the numbers that were coming up underneath. Over four thousand kilometers in diameter, larger than the historic moon of the ancient Earth. Similar gravity, out at three hundred and twenty thousand kilometers, it would orbit once every twenty-six days. And it could take as many hits from relativistic weapons as the Cacas could throw.
“Load it up with offensive launchers. I want it to become an indestructible launch platform.”
“They can still take out the installations we put there,” cautioned Janssen, staring at the image. “We don't have time to fortify emplacements. Everything we place is going to be out in the open.”
“Then we'll launch everything we have before they can get anything to it. And place a couple of thousand box launchers with counters, spread out on the surface.”
“What about the asteroid belts?”
Beata thought for a moment before answering, looking over the manifest of the resources her force carried, as well as what was already in the system.
“I want whatever launchers we have left placed on as many of them on the approach lanes as we can use. No counters. The crews can evacuate those rocks as soon as they fire.”
“Very good, ma'am.”
“Now, let's talk about the deployment of our mobile forces.” Beata still wasn't confident about her ability to hold this system. Hurting the Cacas? Making them regret they had ever stuck their noses in this system. Now that was something she was confident of.
* * *
It was a twenty-one hour trip from the barrier to the planet in a maximum accel/decel profile. Beata took what rest she could, knowing that she might not have the time during the battle. By the time they reached the proximity of the planet the Cacas would be on track to arrive in thirty-seven hours. A total of fifty-eight hours, a seeming eternity that would pass much too soon.
Not all of her fleet would accompany her all the way in. Over half broke off to head for other positions within the system, joining up with the allied forces that were also moving into place.
“Do you think the Slarna will be of use in this fight?” she asked her chief of staff, looking at the plot. Always looking at the plot, as if there was something hidden there that would present itself at any moment. Something that would allow her to win this battle.
“I think they will hold out as long as they aren't in danger of annihilation,” said Janssen, grimacing. “The second they think the battle lost; they'll be heading out as fast as they can. For all the good it will do them.”
Beata wished she could disagree with her chief of staff, but she didn't. The Slarna had struck the admiral as opportunists. They had allied with a people they didn't like in order to take advantage of the tech they might gain. If they could be of service in the meantime, good. Because it might give them some more advantages.
Of course the Klavarta would fight to the end. This was now their territory, and their war. She was still trying to think of normal space advantages she might be able to use them for. Their ships had compensators as good as anything the Empire had. Their battleships could boost at almost five hundred and fifty gravities. Their genetic advantages and their use of fluid filled chambers gave them another thirty gravities above the limit of their compensators, and of course they could strap the
mselves in to couches and add another five.
Five hundred and eighty-five gravities, thought the admiral in wonder. That was enough for some ferocious maneuvering, if only they could find a way to use that advantage. She was thinking they could, but it hadn't come to her yet. Perhaps they would figure it out themselves.
And then there were the Gernas. They also could handle more gravity than most, even without the use of fluid tanks. Their ships could pull five hundred and thirty gravities with their compensators, and their bodies could handle twenty gravities before they broke down and went unconscious. Of course that meant strapped into acceleration couches. Still, five hundred and fifty gravities was nothing to sneer at. She still wasn't sure if she wanted them in the system or in hyper outside of it. Right now they were stationed near the barrier, waiting for her orders.
And then there was Mara, and the thirty percent of the Klavarta fleet that had survived their abortive counterattack. She had about five thousand Klavarta ships already gathered up, with thousands more heading her way. Several thousand were being left at the former frontier to give warning about any Caca reinforcements coming up.
* * *
“The bastards are coming up on our rear, Great Admiral,” reported the com officer.
Mrastaran grunted his reply. He had been expecting the enemy force to catch up with him once he started on his deceleration profile toward the target system. He had left some ships behind, deceling earlier, so they could keep track of that enemy. As soon as they picked the pursuing vessels up they grav pulsed a signal, then took off on full accel to get out of the way. Still, he had lost some ships, vessels that hadn't reported with a follow up grav pulse. He hated those loses, but he needed to know where the enemy was.
“Last transmission reported enemy numbers at over five thousand.”
Mrastaran sat up straight in his chair. The New Terrans who had attacked him earlier had possessed a couple of hundred ships. Possibly three hundred. They must be the remnants of the Klavarta, he thought, wondering how many more they would have following him before he got to the system. While he was sure he could handle that remaining Klavarta force, as well as the Imperials he knew were with them, it still left a very large fleet from New Terra unaccounted for.
Could they be ahead, he wondered. If so, he would bring them to battle very soon. He thought he had enough to take them out as well, though he couldn't guess what he might have left to drive into Klavarta space after.
“Admiral Trostara,” he asked of his chief of staff. “Start working on plans for a long stay in Pleisia. We might have to fortify the system and wait for reinforcements to come up.”
“I thought the plan was to continue on to the Klavarta capital,” said the confused officer.
“That is still the plan, but it's contingent on what we have to fight in the system.” Because that idiot of an Emperor insists that we waste out time and resources to take a system which is meaningless, he thought but couldn't say.
“If we take heavy loses and have to wait for reinforcements, I want a plan in place. Someplace where we can establish a wormhole gate that the enemy will have difficulty taking out.”
“I'll work on the plan,” agreed Trostara. What else could he say. His lord and master had ordered it.
Now, if only I could come up with a way to get rid of my tail, he thought. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of one. They seemed to know where he was heading, so they would have a good guess on his deceleration profile. Probably to come in behind him on the same profile. Unless they decided to do a fly by attack and continue on around the system. That was a threat, but by the time they achieved that profile he would be able to send waves of missiles at them. It was an attack he could survive, but he didn't want to take those loses.
I wonder what they'll have waiting for me in that system, he thought, frowning. He knew there would be something. The rest of the Imperial force? More of the Klavarta? Maybe some other allies? Whatever it was, he would bring the full weight of his force down on them. Then turn on the ships that were following him. The glory would still be his.
* * *
“We should have some more ships to you within twenty-four hours,” said the President of the Nation of New Earth over the com. “I'm afraid the crews will be a mix of mostly untrained and reservists brought out of retirement. But that is the best we can do at the moment.”
Beata nodded as she looked at the list of what was coming her way on another holo. Forty of the smallish Klavarta battleships, ten million tons each. They wouldn't be very efficient warships, but they would suffice as launching platforms. Also on the list were several hundred of the first batch of Klavarta warp fighters. The Empire and the Nation were sharing all technologies with each other. It was up to the individual powers to decide how they wanted to deploy the tech, and the Klavarta had decided to invest in the faster than light fighters.
A couple of months from now the Klavarta would be launching the first batch of real battleships, sixteen million ton hyper VII. Almost exact copies of the front-line ships of the Empire, they would have some improvements intended for Alpha use, including the liquid injection systems for their increased gravity tolerance.
In the same time period the Slarna would also be launching improved vessels, copies of Imperial battle cruisers with hyper VII drives. As would the Gernas. Beata hoped that those allies wouldn't someday become enemies. Well, the same dynamic was ongoing at the main front. Elysium and Crakista were allies, today, and the technology sharing was a two-way street there as well. One day the Empire might find itself fighting one of those powers, and then those exchanges could come back to bite them. However, they needed the allies right now, and the allies needed the best equipment they could get, so the future would have to worry about itself.
She still wasn't sure what she would be getting from the Empire, but was hoping for a hundred squadrons of battleships and a score of fleet carriers. That was doubtful, but receiving no news was worrisome. She would resent it if the Empire shortchanged her, but there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't tapped into the grand strategy on that front. Need to know, of course. Just like the fleet commanders on that front wouldn't be totally informed about her situation.
“Mara. Report,” said Beata into the air, connecting the com to her scout force commander.
“We're not within sensor range of the enemy, but they still seem to be on a profile that will put them on your doorstep on schedule.”
“Keep after them. But don't let yourself be drawn into a trap.”
“You know me better than that, Admiral,” said the smiling scout force commander. “I'll be the epitome of cautious.”
Beata found herself smiling now. Mara could be cautious, but a perusal of any dictionary would have a picture of the other admiral over the word audacious. That she could also be careful was what made her such a good scout commander.
“I'm getting another com,” said Beata as a chime sounded in the air. “But stay on. You'll probably want to hear this as well.” She disconnected from the scout force commander and turning to look at another being, his image slightly blurry in the way of visual data transmitted by the Klassekian com techs.
“Report.”
“We're picking up the enemy ships coming into our detection range,” reported the Klavarta commander of one of their scout ships, lying dead in normal space directly in the path of the Cacas. “They're decelerating on a profile consistent with arriving in Pleisia space, just outside the VII barrier at a velocity that will allow them to translate down into the system.”
“You hear that. Mara?” asked Beata, feeling the thrill of knowing she had been proven correct running through her. Or was that terror?
“Yes, ma'am.”
“We have an entire chain of Klavarta scouts lined along their path. I'll want them to form up with you as you decelerate toward us.”
“Not leave them in place?” asked Mara, her brow furrowing.
“You think I should?”
&
nbsp; “They're not going to do me that much good, Admiral. Another, what, twenty or so smallish scout ships. We might want to leave them as pickets, to let us know if something else is coming. In fact,” said Mara, her eyes narrowing, “we might want to string them out even further.”
“Okay. Done. Captain Hralta,” she said to the Klavarta Alpha. “As soon as you are able, spread your ships out. You're our early warning system.”
“I would rather fight the Cacas, ma'am,” protested the Alpha.
“I know you would. But you provide better service by continuing to scout.”
She dismissed that holo, filled with static from the many Klassekians it was transferred through.
“Hurt them, Mara. I don't expect you to defeat them, but hurt them. Everything they leave outside the system. If you can pick it off, do so. And I don't expect prisoners. Don't let them draw you into anything you can't handle. Now, I need to make sure I give them something they can't handle on this end.”
Mara's holo disappeared, leaving her once again with her own thoughts. What can I do to even the odds further? she thought, pulling up the holo of the system once again. She studied the system for the thousandth time, looking for anything that might give her an advantage. Beata knew she wasn't the most brilliant admiral who had ever served the Empire. She was also sure that she wasn't the least able. Maybe Lenkowski or Mgonda could do better, but she doubted there was another flag officer in the Fleet that came closer to matching them.
Great thought, Beata. Now you just have to go about proving it.
* * *
“I really don't trust these damned things,” complained Ensign Kallaris Plisias, looking at the viewer at the image as the fast attack craft approached the mirrored surface of the wormhole gate. The rest of his flight was around him, three more of the ten thousand ton small craft. He was the junior officer of this group, which made his assignment to the fragile craft even worse, in his opinion, as he had less control over his own fate.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 13
