Now he was second guessing his decision to send Beata out to the other front. Not that he doubted her ability. She had been training with her force for over six months, her vision locked on to this very offensive that was about to start moving into Caca space. At the last moment he had decided to send her to the Nation of New Earth, to take the place of the deceased commander on the spot. It had seemed like a good choice, but he hadn't counted on the stupidity of the current Klavarta commander, who had taken his fleet into a trap, and left Beata as the only thing standing between the Cacas and the industrial heartland of New Earth.
They had the damned war well in hand, he thought, recalling the conversations he had with the leaders of that front, as well as his own now deceased commander. They had been hammering the Cacas, taking territory. Maybe not in job lots. But they had been liberating Caca controlled systems, several of them with native intelligent species. Many of them with transplanted Caca slaves. They had been destroying Caca ships. And most important to the Empire, they had been keeping Caca forces that might have been fighting his too busy to be redeployed.
Then the Klavarta had picked a new commander themselves, when the one before had died in combat. Something that seemed to occur with alarming regularity on that front. The new one had thought he could defeat the surprise Caca offensive which had rolled into New Earth space, and had stuck his neck right into a trap. Now he was missing in action, and Beata was the ranking officer on that front.
Of course, missing in action didn't mean the Alpha was dead. After his horrible decisions Sean could only hope that he was. He didn't trust that admiral to lead.
“Go ahead and roll, Admiral,” he told Lenkowski. “Raise hell and attract as much attention as you can.”
That was one hope he had for the other front. If they could kill numerous Cacas and break things on this front, the enemy might have to redeploy to salvage the situation. Not the most satisfactory of circumstances, but his forces were better able to handle the pressure than the Klavarta. Or Beata.
Once we stabilize that front, I might have to bring Bednarczyk back here and let her fight alongside my other admirals, he thought. If they could stabilize that front. And if Beata survived.
“We're pushing into Caca space in our sector,” said Duke Taelis Mgonda. “So far, nothing of interest.”
“You scouts haven't picked up any Caca ships.”
“A few, your Majesty,” said the six-star admiral in charge of half his forces on the main front. “We've picked up ships on headings into small systems, ones we have on our charts as minor stars with small scale industrial operations. But nothing else.”
Sean thought that over for a moment. They had expected for the Cacas to consolidate their forces, meet the Imperial fleet in some important systems and try to hammer them.
“Does Intelligence have any idea what's going on?” asked the duke.
“They're planning something,” said Len, coming back onto the com. “Some kind of trap.”
“Intelligence hasn't picked up any kind of tech they might ambush us with,” said Sean, shaking his head. “But be careful. Make sure you scout those systems out, thoroughly, before you move your battle groups into them.”
It wouldn't be prudent to discount the chance that the Cacas might pull a surprise. That was how most unforeseen military disasters had occurred through history, when one side believed they had the situation well in hand. And had gotten bitten in the ass.
“That puts the scouts at risk,” said Len, a tone of disapproval in his voice.
“That's what they're there for, my friend,” said Taelis. His own tone indicated that he didn't like the idea any more than his old friend did. But his words said that he accepted the idea. Scouts were there to make sure the main force didn't wander into something that would kill them. Sometimes they got killed to get that intelligence. Better a battle cruiser or two, maybe a half dozen smaller ships, than a battle group with a million or more spacers aboard.
* * *
PLEISIA SYSTEM.
“My Lord.” said the com officer, a surprised, no panicked, expression on his face. “We have a priority com coming through, from the capital system.”
Mrastaran gave his com officer a glare, wishing that he wasn't on one of the few ships in his command that had an actual wormhole aboard. Under the old scheme, pre-wormhole, he wouldn't have had to worry about some idiot in the chain of command getting in touch with him, with new orders that would change all of his plans. For the worse.
“Great Admiral,” said the voice of an immature Ca'cadasan male, as the image of the Emperor Jresstratta V popped up in a holo. “I would like a situation report.”
Mrastaran stopped a grimace in mid stride, hoping the monarch didn't catch it. This was one leader he couldn't afford to piss off, lest he lose his head.
“We are in the middle of a battle, Supreme Lord,” said Mrastaran, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he kept his voice level. What in the hell does this little worm think he is doing?
“The other humans, the Terrans and their allies, are pushing into my Empire,” screamed the young male. “I need you to destroy the humans in that system, to take it, so you can get your ships back here to add to our defense against the Terrans.”
“If we destroy the humans in this system, Supreme Lord,” counseled the great admiral, keeping his tone calm, though he felt like screaming back at the young upstart. “And then hie back to the other side of the Empire, we will be giving them the opportunity to not only take back this system, but to push back into the Empire and cause us great harm.”
“We have something for them, once you have that system in hand,” said the young male, his visage shining with glee. “Once we have it, and their attention focused that way, we will lay a trap. Something that will destroy the fleet they send to take it back. They will not have enough to push into my Empire, and the force we leave behind will be sufficient to hold them in check until we can defeat the larger force on the other frontier.”
“What weapon?” asked Mrastaran, his hackles rising.
“You will find out when you need to know,” said the Emperor, a cryptic smile on his young face. “Rest assured, it will be something the enemy will not expect. And it will destroy everything in that system.”
In that system, thought the admiral with another shiver as the words struck home. Not just the enemy fleet. The system. He wondered if that was a slip of speech, something that the young fool said that was not what he meant. Or did he mean them, even if he didn't realize what he had said. The admiral would guess the Emperor had something that would kill everything in the system, along with the enemy ships that would be plunging in to liberate it.
All of the intelligent beings in the system, every bit of life, he thought. That was the amount of force it would take to destroy a fleet of battleships. What kind of weapon was that? Something very terrible. An abomination. But there was nothing he could say that would change the mind of the headstrong young fool.
And when he used his ultimate weapon and killed this system? When he used it against the New Terran Empire and their allies. Their rage would be terrible, and they would attack with everything they had to rid the Galaxy of a monster that could kill systems.
“Take that system, Great Admiral,” said the smirking young male, obviously already sure of eventual victory. “That is all you need to worry about. We will take care of the rest.”
The holo faded, the Emperor dismissing his senior officer on this front as if he were of no importance. Mrastaran wasn't really important to the young male. His fleet really wasn't important, except as a means to secure a system to bait a trap. And to reinforce the main front, where the primary enemy was threatening his life and his throne.
If only I could find a way to put someone with more sense on the throne, thought the great admiral, closing his eyes and lowering his head. It was a treasonous thought. One that would see him executed, and every member of his family to the tenth relation. Fortunatel
y, the Emperor could not read his thoughts, as long as he kept them to himself. Still, it was something to think about. The humans already pushed the Ca'cadasans out of many systems, though they had shown admirable restraint in dealing with the worlds they had captured. He didn't want to see it come down to so much hate that they decided to do to his people exactly what the Ca'cadasans would have done to theirs if his people had won this war.
* * *
FRONTIER SPACE.
Grand Fleet Admiral Klanarat was tired of sitting in the seat in the shuttle's main compartment, worrying about what might be going on with his nation. Unfortunately, there was little room for movement on the overcrowded shuttle. Add to that the strained life support system, and there really was a very good reason for keeping activity to a minimum. The only other solution would be to start chucking people out the airlock. As much as Klanarat wanted to live, he couldn't countenance such an action. He would gain the reputation of a monster, and he would not allow that to happen.
Now food. That was another problem. They had plenty of water, as long as no one drank too much too soon and outstripped the recycling capabilities of the system. But the only food they had were the iron rations that had been placed aboard the shuttle for emergencies. Enough for everyone to get a couple of bites, and those were already gone.
“I'm afraid we aren't going to last much longer, sir,” said the Alpha who was the pilot of the shuttle, and therefore the commander of the craft, his face appearing on a viewer on the back of the seat in front of the admiral. “The life support system wasn't made to handle this many people.”
Klanarat nodded as he looked over the crowded compartment. People were crowded two to a seat, many sitting in the laps of the one below them. It was standing room only in the aisle and toward the back. The shuttle had been made to hold at most forty seated passengers, and had near a hundred crammed aboard.
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, sir,” said the lieutenant/pilot in a hushed voice. “You are the ranking officer. So I think it best to leave it up to you to select those we need to space.”
“I, I can't do that,” stammered Klanarat, the sinking feeling in his stomach becoming his entire world.
That seemed very unfair of the Universe, letting these people get off the doomed ship, only to be thrown into space. And once they were gone, what then? He and the remaining spacers would still eventually starve to death. They were several light years from the nearest star system, and the most their power supplies would allow them to get to was a tenth light speed. So twenty years or more, and they would speed through the system with no way to stop. Or they could only burn half their energy and get there in forty years, able to decel down to insert into a planet. The point was, everyone would have starved to death before they reached that system. So nothing they did would make any difference in the long run.
“We're picking up hyper resonances, sir,” said the copilot, a warrant officer, in an excited voice. “Coming toward us in hyper VII.”
“Whose?” asked Klanarat, a sinking feeling returning to his stomach. Most likely it was a Caca ship, and they didn't want one of those rescuing them. The Cacas would simply capture them, easily, then interrogate those they wanted information from. That wasn't a pleasant thought, and Klanarat, much as he would try to resist, would give in. And then everyone would go into the stew pots of the carnivorous aliens as the Cacas, known for their predilection for eating intelligent life forms, would use the Klavarta for rations.
“It matches one of our own ships, sir,” called out the copilot. “Cruiser class.”
“Are you sure?” asked the admiral, feeling his own heart rise for a moment before sinking once again. If they were mistaken, and this was a Caca ship, better to let it pass and they all starve.
“Positive, sir.”
“Then send out a graviton pulse and get them here,” said Klanarat, his voice cracking with excitement. “Right now. I want us all off of this garbage can as soon as they can get to us.”
They still had to wait for six hours for the cruiser to decelerate, change vectors, get close and translate out of hyper. The shuttle landed in the hangar, the hatch opened, and Klanarat found himself staring at an honor guard of warriors, standing at attention in the armor they wore for space combat. Holding rifles at present arms.
“Grand Fleet Admiral Klanarat,” said an Alpha in the softsuit of an officer, captain insignia on his collar. “Welcome aboard the New Saito.”
“Thank you, Captain, uh?”
“Grasinnas, sir.”
“Thank you for rescuing us from a lingering death,” said the admiral, returning the salute, then shaking the hand of the other Alpha officer. “Now, are you in touch with the fleet?”
“I, am not, sir,” said Grasinnas, looking down at the deck. “We had one of the aliens the Empire lent us, but after the battle it just went crazy. We tried to treat it, but it refused to eat, and died.”
“You didn't try to keep it alive,” growled Klanarat, glaring at the other officer. I needed that com tech to put me in touch with the high command. I have to know what is going on with the fleet.
“We tried force feeding her,” said the captain, looking down again. “But she just faded from life, no matter what we did.”
We lost too many of their siblings, thought the admiral, closing his eyes. He had been warned about that weakness. The death of a sibling of any Klassekian would cause mental trauma to the rest of the siblings. The more who died, the greater the trauma to the survivors, until, when only one or two were left, they would go into a severe catatonic breakdown. Not always, since they were individuals with their own psychological strengths and weaknesses, but often enough. And one in that state would die. They were a fragile species in that way, but their powers of communication made them a worthwhile addition to any fleet.
“Do you know where the nearest ships are that might be in contact with the rest of the fleet?” asked the admiral.
“No, sir. Every ship we have encountered so far didn't have a Klassekian aboard, or else theirs died, like ours.”
Shit. Klanarat wasn't sure what he was going to do now. He needed to get in touch with command and get the fleet organized. The Cacas might have destroyed the force he led out here, though the presence of this cruiser showed that not all of them had been killed. Plus, the captain had mentioned other ships they had contacted. He could organize another force with what remained here and what was sent from the core systems. And the Terrans, he thought. They didn't have that large a force in the territory of New Earth, but what they had was very strong in weapons, especially wormholes. If he could get them organized in time, he might be able to hit the Cacas before they got to the core worlds. Hard enough to drive them away? Possibly,
“We are picking up more people from your flagship, admiral. Mostly lifepods.”
And those would have been able to support the single life they carried for far longer than the overcrowded shuttle. Might there be some Klassekians on one or more of those pods? After all, his ship carried a good dozen of the creatures, allowing him to link with other vessels of the fleet.
“And last we heard, the enemy fleet was heading for the Pleisia system,” said the captain, the hint of a frown on his face. “And the Terran admiral was organizing the defense of that system,” he continued, some excitement in his voice. “That is where our ships will be.”
Dammit. Klanarat wanted to be the one to beat the Cacas. If Bednarczyk staged a successful defense and beat the Cacas, she would get all the glory, and he would be remembered as the admiral who had fallen into the Ca'cadasan trap and lost his fleet. He couldn't allow that to happen. He had to beat them himself, which meant he had to get back into the com net.
“I want you to find me a ship with faster than light com capability,” ordered Klanarat, spearing the younger male with an intense stare. “I need to get in touch with command, as soon as possible.”
He would be the one who would win this campaign, if he had
to kill every ship under his command.
* * *
“Launch every warp fighter we have,” growled Great Admiral Mrastaran.
The great admiral was watching the plot as what looked like well over a thousand Imperial warp fighters headed for his fleet. That was more than the humans had initially deployed on their first attacks. Had they been reinforced through the wormhole that he knew was somewhere in the system? Or had they been holding back some wings all the time, waiting to see how many fighters he had to deploy in response.
He had just over five hundred warp fighters left. Slower than the human variety and not as well armed. His fighters might take out a couple of hundred of them before they were all destroyed. With luck. He thought it would be fortunate if they took down a hundred of the better birds. Fifty would be more likely.
Another two hundred of the enemy appeared on the plot, along with several hundred of the very high acceleration fast attack craft. And, coming in from system north, above the disc, a couple of hundred ships of various sizes, the largest the size of the Ca'cadasan supercruisers. The boost numbers underneath were impressive, but not in the same class as the six hundred ships coming up from below. Those included some ships of similar mass to the human scout capital ships, their battle cruisers. Boosting at over six hundred and seventy gravities. The Ca'cadasans weren't getting heat returns back from their grabber units yet, something that would give an indication of how much they were boosting over the capacity of their inertial compensators.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 18
