“We have released volleys on all of the targets except the warp fighters,” exclaimed the tactical officer, wanting to deliver something the admiral might deem positive.
“Prepare to fire on them if they get too close.”
“Yes, my Lord. And I must inform the admiral that all attacking craft have launched.”
This is just wonderful, thought the admiral. Streams of wormhole launched missiles were still coming in at intervals. Not enough to overwhelm their defenses, and now that the weapons were on permanent alert status, most of the streams were being blown out of space as soon as they were detected. Still, they were doing some little bit of damage. And about one out of every four hundred were blowing one of his ships out of space. Most often a scout, less often a cruiser. Even a battleship at times. A nuisance, a small whittling away of his combat power. Not enough to stop him, he was sure. Still, it was aggravating. And wearing on the nerves.
“And still no sign of their warships?”
“No, sir. We should have a report on our missiles strikes on the planet/moon system in another thirty-three minutes. Information coming in on the nearest targets, now.”
The tactical officer looked over the information coming up on multiple holo screens. Multiple hits on the moons of the nearest gas giants.
One of the screens zoomed in and expanded, showing the surface of a moon, with the rubble of large installations scattered over the surface. Craters were everywhere. It looked as if all the installations on that moon were destroyed. It would be better to do a close reconnaissance, but he didn't have any ships near enough to the moon to do that.
“Very good. So our missiles are getting through. I expect we are doing the same to Pleisia.” If they were lucky they would only have hit ships and orbital facilities. The missiles fired at Pleisia had been programmed to avoid the inhabited planet, but that wouldn't stop one that had been damaged but not destroyed from a hit.
“My Lord,” said the tactical officer, brow furrowed in thought. “Do you want to come to a stop at the planet, or fly past it?”
“How much longer do I have to decided?” asked the admiral, who still wasn't sure. How could he be, when he didn't know where the enemy fleet was. If there was an enemy fleet, and not just a collection of small craft and planetary defense assets.
They have to be here, he thought, growling low in his throat. They must be.
* * *
“We're getting a report from the moons of Hypatis,” said Captain Janssen, looking over at his admiral, who was standing in front of the plot, watching the action.
The Slarna and Gernas forces were boosting toward the enemy, releasing missiles as they went. The warp fighters were speeding at twenty lights, on headings to close with the Cacas so they could launch their warp missiles from close in. And two thousand Klavarta fast attack craft were on a heading straight into the Caca fleet. They were still twenty light minutes away, at their closing velocity thirty-eight minutes out.
The fast attack craft approaching from the front would be launching in another ten minutes. Four missiles each, eight thousand weapons. That was not the most important part of their mission. Each FAS was also towing a twenty thousand ton container attached by cables to their sterns. Sixty million tons of cargo, consisting of twelve thousand of the laser mines developed by the Klavarta.
“Our fast attack craft are releasing their mines, now, ma'am.”
And those weapons would drift straight into the front of the Caca formation. It was the definition of a bloody nose.
“What about the moons? What kind of damage did they sustain?”
“Very little, ma'am,” said Janssen, smiling. “Our defenses held. The industrial facilities are still up and running, turning out fusion warheads for the campaign. And the holo-projectors are up and showing the Cacas what we want them to see.”
Beata smiled in return. She needed those facilities, at least in the short term. She also wanted to protect the ten million or so people who lived and worked out there. If the Cacas found out that they hadn't hit anything of importance they would just keep sending missiles at the moons until they broke through the defenses. Large holo projectors had been placed in orbit to show the Cacas what they wanted to see across a half light hour of distance. That wouldn't have worked if they had sent ships to check it out, but she had depended on their commander to not risk them when he had no idea where her fleet was.
“We're about to begin our stairstep into the system, Admiral,” reported Mara Montgomery over the wormhole com.
“Any sign of the Cacas coming after you?”
Montgomery's force was coming in above the plain of the ecliptic. The Cacas outside of the system were not in a position to stop her, though they might be able to come in after her. That would be inconvenient, if not a disaster, since she would be able to get off some full accelerator launches at the Cacas in the system before she had to turn her weapons on the enemy coming in behind her.
“We're estimating that they will come in behind us just over two hours after we enter normal space,” said Mara. “That's a worst-case scenario, and they haven't started to move yet.”
“Make sure you're well into the system before they get here,” ordered Beata. “When you engage those ships, I'll vector warp fighters in to support you.”
“Sure you can spare them?”
“Whether I can or not, I want that Caca force destroyed,” said Beata with a feral smile. “I want you to be free to maneuver out there, without having to look over your shoulder.”
“We'll be in normal space in four and a half hours,” said Mara, looking off holo and nodding. “My navigator reminded me that it will be exactly four hours, twenty-eight minutes,” she continued with a smile.
Beata laughed. Some officers, particular navigators and engineers, were sticklers for detail. The tactically minded were more likely to fudge it. “I have to go, Admiral Montgomery. My chief of staff is about to have a fit to gain my attention.”
“See you in a bit,” replied Mara, nodding.
“What was it that couldn't wait?” Bednarczyk asked Janssen, turning a cold stare on the man.
How she wished this nerve-wracking experience would end. While sitting in the rear, thinking her career over, she had wished for the thrill of battle. A situation where she could use her brains and courage to win a fight for her Empire, while garnering the glory a victorious commander was entitled to. To have her portrait hung at the Academy on Peal Island. Possibly a statue in some square of Capitulum. She had jumped at the chance to command against the Machines, even while the very thought of facing those things terrified her. Well, she had her chance, and now had new thoughts about the situation.
The dreams were the worst. Every night she watched as her ships died, thousands of men and women going to their deaths at her command. And here she was, in another battle, watching as an insurmountable force pushed into a system she was defending. The only difference was that these attackers would not go out of their way to slaughter the entire population of the system. Her and her people, yes. And they still might kill a considerable percent of the system population. More death. Glory was no longer in the forefront of her mind. The only thing important to her was to get this war over with. She realized she was good enough to lead a major command, and that it would be cowardly to not put herself into this kind of situation for the good of her people. But she definitely didn't have to like it.
“We have more ships coming through the gate, ma'am.”
That was important. Maybe it could have waited. After all, they wouldn't be used for some time. But anything that might lift her spirits, even a little bit, was worth paying attention to.
She watched the take as the first ship came through. A Klavarta battleship, transiting the large ring of the gate, the brilliant field of stars forming a backdrop. All ships out here were running slowly and without lights, stealthed down as much as possible. Using crystalline batteries, their MAM reactors cold. The ones coming through were barely pushing their grabber
s, less than a gee, without running lights.
A second ship came through, then another, followed by another, one every minute.
“Ships are transiting the gate near the planet as well, ma'am.”
“Show me.”
The view on the holo switched to the gate sitting over the day side of Pleisia, away from the prying eyes of the Cacas. A smaller force was in the background, mostly consisting of destroyers and light cruisers, as well as some of the new missile equipped freighters that had been Sean's idea for planetary defense.
A destroyer came through, the newest production line of the Imperial Shipyards at Central Docks. A three hundred and twenty thousand ton ship, larger than any previous destroyer and almost in the same tonnage range as a Caca scout, the ship had been optimized for missile defense. It carried the standard four laser rings, though these had been ramped up with additional emitter units. They had no offensive missile tubes. Their purpose was not to strike at enemy fleets, but to protect the ships that did. Each had eighty counter tubes, fifty missiles in each loading queue, for a total of four thousand counters, a load of eighty thousand tons.
The ships also came through slowly, though running lights and reactor heat was not a problem where they were. One ship every thirty seconds, for a full thirty-one minutes, until a full sixty-two destroyers had come through. Not an overwhelming force, but hopefully enough to shore up the defense of the planet in a significant way.
Meanwhile, the Klavarta battleships kept coming through, until thirty-five had transited. They were smallish ships, only ten million tons, but they were still effective missile launching platforms. The crews were green, but they had enough training to man the systems and cycle missiles. That was all they would need to do in this fight. If the enemy came after them they would be heading back through the wormholes as fast as they could transit.
“Colliers coming through,” said Janssen, pulling up the take on the nearer gate.
The other colliers had already gone back, empty of their cargo. Each ship in the fleet had containers of offensive and counter missiles attached to their hulls. Loading mechs filled the hangar decks, while every fighter that had been carried was now in space. If Beata couldn't have more ships, more launch tubes, she would make sure she still had as many weapons as she could throw.
She looked back at the plot, showing the Caca fleet still forging in toward the planet. Beata was sure she knew what was going through the Caca admiral's mind. They thought she had to have her ships near the planet, probably hiding on the day side. He was partially correct.
“All of the wormhole equipped ships not out here are still firing?”
“Yes, ma'am. As fast they can cycle them.”
Thirty launch tubes on the other side of the wormhole gate, arranged in supercells, where the one wormhole could be moved quickly from one to the other. If thirty seconds could be called quickly. Twenty seconds to move the end of the hole, ten to make sure everything was lined up perfectly, and then the thirty preaccelerated missiles were launched. All of the twenty-two ships already firing were releasing the standard one hundred ton capital ship missile at point nine five light. They would burn through all thirty launch tubes in fifteen minutes, then wait fifteen minutes for the first tube to bring their missiles up to speed to start the process over again. At least that was how they would start out the process.
“Order all of our ships to fire their wormhole launchers. Estimated position of enemy fleet on arrival.”
The flagship shook moments later, a slight instantaneous tremor as the twenty-eight million ton ship released its first stream of missiles. Thirty objects came out of the tube as point nine five light. Ten seconds into launch the grabber units flared for an instant, pushing the two weapons in each package apart, then stabilizing their courses. At this distance, as less than a tenth of a gee, they were imperceptible to the Cacas. And where thirty of the one hundred ton objects had been, there were now sixty of the fifty ton missiles. They would pack nearly the same amount of kinetic impact, but half of a devastating hit was still devastating. And twice as many missiles doubled the chances of hits.
Thank you, you damned murder machines, thought Beata. It was an idea the Machines had used on that front, something they had picked up from another alien species they had exterminated. A search of their memory banks, in the few AIs sent back to Chan's facility had told the story of how a less advanced alien species had fought back against them with masses of low acceleration weapons that broke through even high-tech defenses. They were not going to the main front yet. Sean preferred to keep using weapons he was sure of. But he had allowed her to use them as a test bed.
Sixteen launchers cycled through sixty weapons each, nine hundred and sixty missiles flying silently through the night without a trace. At the end of the fifteen seconds there were twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred weapons on the way. Not enough to annihilate the Caca fleet, which would still put up a very effective counter fire against them. Hopefully enough to sting them badly. And fifteen minutes after the launch the second one would start in. And then the next. They would soon be able to find her force by the vectors of the missiles. She was hoping they would then fire back, in force.
* * *
“Enemy missiles will impact in twenty minutes, sir,” said the Slarna captain of the flagship Gift of the Leader.
Slarna Admiral Connandra stared at the plot in the center of the bridge, shivers of terror running up his nerve cords.
I am a Slarna warrior, he thought, taking some calming breaths. I am a Slarna warrior, I will not fear. He knew that last was shit. Of course he was afraid. What rational being would not fear going into battle against the monster ships of the Cacas in what amounted to an oversized cruiser.
The Slarna had never been menaced by the Cacas. In fact, they hadn't had any contact with the Klavarta before the New Terran admiral, Sung, had sailed into their space. The admiral had been sure that his leaders would have turned down the offer of an alliance with a people they knew to be xenophobes, against a threat that was still far away. The word of their region's ancients, the highly advanced beings who felt themselves above the struggles of lesser races, had carried the day, and so the Slarna had sent a considerable portion of their battle fleet to the aid of the Klavarta.
And now they had found out that the fleet they had taken so much pride in was nothing but a joke in this kind of war. They were fine in missile combat, especially when equipped with the long ranged fast accelerating technology of the humans. The humans had actually manufactured seventy-ton versions of their own weapons that would fit the launch tubes of the Slarna. Enough to fill the magazines of every Slarna ship many times over, while their alien allies got their own production up.
No, they were good enough missile platforms. In close in combat they had proven to be death traps. Slarna tactics called for sending in a missile swarm and closing to laser range. It worked well in their own small-scale wars. The small mass of their so called capital ships made for a distinct disadvantage in close in combat against the monsters the Cacas deployed.
Connandra couldn't stop himself from being afraid. Still, he could do his duty and follow the orders of the humans put over him.
“Begin cycling missiles at the enemy.”
“How many volleys?”
“All of them.”
“Then we turn away?” asked the captain, a worried expression on his face.
“No. Then we continue in until the other forces finish their attacks. We will not be the first to turn around and run.”
“Enemy missile impact in fifteen minutes,” called out the sensor officer.
“Prepare all missile defenses to fire,” called out Connandra, willing himself to stay calm in the face of the missile storm. “And as soon as the last offensive weapon has been fired, I want us on an evasive track, to here.” The admiral pointed at an object on the plot. “We will make it back there and we will rearm.”
The admiral still wasn't sure why they had come
out here into this attack, when most of the other ships were still in firing positions. His force had been a decoy, a distraction, and that was something the proud Slarna really couldn't countenance. But as long as his own leaders told him he had to obey the Klavarta and whoever they put in charge, he would do so, at least for now. When this battle was over, if any of his people survived, he intended to take them all back to their own space, and let the humans handle this war by themselves. If his own civilian leadership didn't like that, they could find someone else to command the fleet.
* * *
“Order all launchers near the planet and in the outer system to fire,” ordered Beata.
The graviton emissions from the enemy fleet had shifted. They were no longer accelerating toward Pleisia, but had yet to reach the point where they would need to decel into orbit. She wasn't sure what was going through the mind of the Caca commander, but she needed to do something to goad the bull. Something to make him think she was in those positions. Make his main fleet continue on into her target basket. If he separated some ships out to go after the asteroid and gas giant positions, so much the better. Since none of her missiles would be coming directly from anything she wanted to protect, she was hoping he would fire his missiles at the soon to be empty places the weapons came from.
“Missiles from all attacking forces are hitting the enemy,” called out the tactical officer, looking back at the admiral.
“Missile launch from near Pleisia,” called out another officer.
There were over two hundred thousand launchers either sitting on the surface of the moon in orbit around the planet, or in a far path actually outside the moon's orbit. They were launching eight thousand at a time, the orbiting box launchers pushing the missiles out as they resisted the acceleration with small fusion drives. The boxes on the moon didn't need anything to resist the recoil, as the body they were braced against was enough. Beata could have ordered all the missiles released at once, but she wanted it to look like a fleet was launching, and firing all of them at once, with nothing following, wouldn't do that.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 20
