“Missiles launching from asteroids and gas giant moons.”
Those weapons appeared on the plot, accelerating at ten thousand gravities, the normal rate for a long-distance launch that would see them accelerating for many hours.
Beata stood back and looked at the waves of missiles heading out from the launch points. Seeing how they layered out, she thought they were a good approximation of what a launch from a small fleet of ships would look like.
“We're estimating that our attacking force launches took out approximately fifty of the Caca ships.” The tactical officer stared at his board for a moment, then turned suddenly. “The Cacas just launched massive missile waves at all of our launch points.”
So they wasted several million missiles, thought Beata with a smile. Those were fewer missiles they could fire at her real ships. Though if things went as planned, that really wouldn't matter. What did matter was that the surviving Caca ships would have fewer missiles in their magazines when the next act of the battle came.
“And they'll be entering the range of the mines to their front in thirty-eight seconds,” continued the tactical officer, a wide smile stretching his face.
That brought another answering smile to the face of the admiral. That would be another pin prick, but enough tiny wounds could bring about death just as readily as one mortal wound.
* * *
“Volley away,” called out the tactical officer.
The plot filled with the icons of missiles, so many of them that it was impossible to distinguish individual weapons without zooming in on small parts of the swarm. They were flying out at a dozen different targets, forty percent toward the launch point nearest Pleisia. Every ship in the fleet had launched a volley, missiles moving out through the fleet and then settling into their courses. The mass of them looked overwhelming, and the tactical officer looked back expectantly to see if his admiral would order another.
“Not yet,” said Mrastaran, giving a head motion of negation.
He only had the missiles that had been in his magazines on entering the system. If he could stop the fleet he could deploy a gate and launch missiles through it, once he set up a launching force back in the home system. He could bring missiles through to resupply, but only through the nine ships that had the portals. Then they would have to move them to other ships, not the easiest of procedures with vessels boosting at over five hundred gravities, an acceleration the transfer shuttles couldn't match.
It looked like he had pinpointed where their fleet was, but without the graviton traces of ships boosting he couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure why they were trying to hide their fleet after launches that could only come from large forces of ships. Or could they be coming from something else, and they were still hiding their ships in other locations? With tricky humans you could never be sure.
“Tactical Officer. What would you think of the proposal that the humans don't actually have a fleet in this system?”
“Why?” asked the tactical officer, a confused expression on his face. “We are looking at massive launches. I would equate that with ships.”
Of course you would, thought Mrastaran, realizing that most of his officers were not sharp enough to think of options other than what they saw with their own eyes. The admiral was confused himself. Things weren't adding up.
Just like that long-ago human admiral thought. Show them what they expect to see, while maneuvering behind the lines to set up something they don't expect. It was a strategy he had used against the Klavarta, so why wouldn't a human admiral from their empire also take that sage advice.
“We have ships in the front of the formation reporting laser strikes,” called out the com officer, his voice rising in panic. “We've lost ships. Damage reports coming in from many others.”
“How?” asked the tactical officer, confusion again dwelling on his face.
“Their mines,” shouted Mrastaran, storming over to the tactical station, immediately sure he was correct. “They deployed their mines ahead of us.” He looked around, seeing more confusion among his bridge crew. “How in the hells did they get them out there? We adjusted our vector on the way in.”
“Those fast attack craft,” said the tactical officer, the confusion leaving his face, though the shock of being punched remained. “They dropped them in their wake, and they floated into us with our combined closing speed.”
“How fast are those fast attack craft boosting at now?” asked the admiral, finding that group on the plot. After they had released their missiles they had boosted along another vector, still at six hundred gravities, the same as expected from Terran craft.
“Six hundred and fifty gravities, my Lord.”
Mrastaran cursed under his breath. If the commander was the human female, as he supposed, she had been playing him like a fool. Showing him what he expected to see, and using his reactions against him. I want her heart on a platter, he thought, clenching all four fists. He knew that was unlikely to happen. In a battle he would either destroy her ships, or she his. There would be no heart remaining to serve up to the victor.
Chapter Sixteen
Everyone rises to their level of incompetence. Laurence J. Peter
Somehow the First Raptor had survived the battle, wormhole intact. The Klavarta battleship, ten million tons and armed with a wormhole launcher, also had a com link through the New Terran Empire Donut back to the New Earth capital. It also had escorts, two more battleships and thirty-one lesser vessels. Not a fleet, but the start of one.
“Get us to that ship, Captain Grasinnas,” ordered Klanarat, looking at the commander of the Klavarta cruiser New Saito.
“It's going to take more than twelve hours to close and match velocities with them,” said Grasinnas, looking away from the cold stare the admiral was giving him.
“Very well,” growled Admiral Klanarat through gritted teeth. There was nothing he could do about the laws of physics. “Have your com officer send a grav pulse to them. They are to tell command and the president that I am still alive, and will be ready to take charge of the fleet as soon as I am aboard First Raptor. And I want all the ships to send out pulses to attract every ship in the area.”
“It will take a couple of minutes to put all of that in motion, sir,” said the apologetic captain.
“Then get on it,” replied Klanarat in an aggravated tone.
Klanarat turned away and walked back to the plot, slightly ashamed at the way he had acted. He was soon satisfied to see that the battleships were already starting to change their vectors.
“The captain of First Raptor is stating his concern that we will attract the Cacas to our position,” stated the com officer.
“We are not here to cower and hide,” hissed Klanarat, stomping over to the com station, shame giving way to anger. “Tell that fool that I will sack him from his command if he doesn't follow my orders to the letter. He is to help me gather a fleet, or his successor will.”
It took almost a minute before the holos over the com station started to display the sine waves of graviton pulses. Every ship in the force was pulsing a come here signal. Within seconds return signals appeared. There were a lot ships out there, hiding, unwilling to give themselves away until they were sure friendlies were near.
There was a very real risk that the Cacas in the area. If there were any such beasts, would home in on the signals and come after them. The main Caca fleet was several hundred light years away, and whatever patrols they might have in the area would become less of a threat the larger his own force grew.
“Any message from the Raptor?” asked Klanarat, staring at the com officer, wanting some word from the capital.
“No, sir,” said the com officer, flinching under the stare of the admiral. “Nothing except the contact request pulses.”
Crap, thought Klanarat, grimacing. He had hoped that the president would have sent him an acknowledgment, letting him know what was going on, putting him back in touch with the fleet. Giving him at least a word of congratu
lations for surviving. But nothing? What did that mean?
I have to get in touch with the president, thought the worried supreme fleet commander. With command I could regain control of the entire fleet. I could still win this thing. That was his hope. Otherwise, he would be looking at an ignominious retirement, if his people even survived.
“We're getting replies from one hundred and forty-two ships, Admiral,” said the smiling com officer, happy to give his commander some good news. The smile left his face as he looked up at the admiral, whose expression showed he was not impressed.
* * *
“We're picking up more missiles, coming in very hot,” called out the tactical officer. “Impact in nine seconds.”
“Where in the hell are they coming from?” gasped Mrastaran, looking at the plot. The missiles in question were now on that plot, coming in from above the plain of the ecliptic. Almost a thousand of them. The vector arrows pointed right into the center of his force, but the mass readings of each individual missile was smaller than normal.
“From this general direction, Lord,” chimed in his chief of staff, looking up from a screen at the station he was occupying. “We can't tell from how far out, but definitely from up there.”
Mrastaran stared at the region in question. Not near to any object in the system, unless they were far enough out that they were near the Oort cloud ice balls. There had to be at least twenty wormholes out there. But how far out was there? If they were still within the barrier, he couldn't let them just fire on him without a return. That was bad for morale. But if they were outside the barrier he would be wasting missiles for no return.
“We have the force we've been tracking through hyper coming into normal space, my Lord,” called out another officer. “Several thousand ships. The largest about a hundred of the Klavarta battleships.”
That didn't sound like all that powerful a force, but if they had wormholes, they could still help to pound him from the distance. Adding to the pinpricks of the fleet already in the system. And he still didn't know how powerful that main fleet was, if there even was one. It might just be a score of ships with wormholes, while the rest of the Terran ships were still out there forming up a larger fleet to hammer him after he took this system.
“I want scout forces sent out to all of the gas giant moon systems and the larger asteroids. Now.”
“At once, my Lord.” replied the chief of staff, rendering a pair of fists to the chest in salute.
Too much was going on, he was blind to most of the enemy dispositions, and he needed to know what was out in the system. If there weren't any enemy ships hanging out in the system he would have to rethink his strategy. It might not be worth going after the ships hanging out on the edges of the system if there weren't enough to be a real threat. He might consider calling in more ships to form into battle groups outside and have them come in on both those forces. In fact.
“Get me the commander of the outer force,” he ordered. They had a wormhole aboard, giving him the ability to talk with them in real time.
“Great Admiral Mrastaran,” answered Great Admiral Tonnasar, the male Mrastaran had left in command of all Ca'cadasan forces outside of the Pleisia system. He still didn't trust that male, and giving him a command outside of his thrust had seemed the best choice. The male had a fairly large command, as independent as Mrastaran could make it, and the supreme commander didn't have to worry about the other admiral screwing up his maneuvers on his immediate flank. Now he just had to worry about the idiot screwing up the maneuver he was about to order.
“How soon before you come into the system?” asked Mrastaran, staring into the face of the other male. “And are you still coming in after the human fleet that just entered the system.”
“We are just about to hit the VI barrier, Admiral,” said the other male in a growling voice on the edge of insubordination. “And yes, we are getting ready to follow the human scout force in. Do you have contradictory orders?”
“I want you to split your force,” said Mrastaran, wondering if this was a good decision, and realizing that it was the only choice he had if he wanted a look at the human wormhole launch area above the system. “Send a third of your force around the system and come in here.” The great admiral sent the map of the system and the vector to his subordinate admiral.
“That's taking a lot of my firepower away,” complained the other admiral, his eyes widening.
“I know,” said Mrastaran, feeling some compassion for the officer he had taken theater command from. “I also know I need to discover what is out there. So, you will split off a third of your force, jump them into the system, and start a search. The rest of your force will continue in and strike at the force you are following.”
“I obey,” said Tonnasar, giving the Ca'cadasan salute of two lower arms over his chest. The com died, the subordinate eschewing protocol and terminating the communication himself.
Of course you do, thought Mrastaran, feeling his face flush with anger. To not obey was to risk execution, and Tonnasar hadn't impressed the fleet commander as a male that would risk his life in disobedience. Not a true risk taker, since he had not challenged the great admiral when he had showed up to take command. And that suited Mrastaran fine.
* * *
“We're firing now,” reported Mara Montgomery over the com.
Her eleven wormholes were also firing the new missiles, sixty per launcher, six hundred and sixty per launch. The target was only a little over three and a half light hours away, just three point six eight hours travel time. The enemy of course knew where her ships were at, since she had just exited hyper, sending out a huge signal with information about the size of her command and their exact location.
She had also launched the sixty warp fighters her ships had carried, an extra present for the Cacas, that were sitting dead in space waiting for the ships she could see coming into stairstep approach for her. Also released were just over a hundred large cargo shuttles that had been piggybacked on her larger ships. Two hundred thousand tons each, made to carry supplies and equipment within a system, they immediately started seeding the area right on the barrier with mines, tens of thousands of them, mostly the new laser emitting type. The Cacas would find quite a number of surprises when they came into the system, none of them pleasant.
“We have launches from the enemy fleet, ma'am,” called out the force tactical officer. “It looks like several hundred thousand missiles heading toward us at ten thousand gravities.”
The Cacas had obviously improved their missile technology as well, getting them up to the same acceleration as New Terran missiles. That would get them to the human ships a little faster.
“ETA, fourteen hours.”
“So, we have time for a couple of meal breaks and a nice sleep before they get here,” said Mara, turning a smile toward the holo and her superior officer. She wasn't about to worry over weapons that wouldn't be there for over a half a day.
“Gives you time to cycle quite a few missiles their way,” agreed Beata with a nod. “But I think you might want to stay close to the barrier. Just in case you need to escape. Are you ready for the other visitors coming through?”
“I am,” announced Mara. “And it looks like quite a few of them have vectored off and will be coming around to your side.”
“We see them,” said Beata, a feral grin twisting her lips. “We outnumber that force, outmass them. I don't think they're going to be a problem.” Of course the Cacas had no way of knowing what she had with her.
Mara thought her commander right. The Cacas didn't know what they faced. Only a number of wormhole launchers, attached to a force of unknown size. That unknown number would surely be larger than they expected. Unfortunately, they knew exactly how many ships Mara had, but they didn't know the tricks she had up her sleeve.
“They already know where you are, Mara,” said Beata after a moment's more thought. “They know, generally, how many ships you have. No use hiding it now. Go ahead and give them
all the standard missiles you can, before you have to shift fire.”
“Yes, ma'am,” replied Mara, a wide smile cracking her face. “Gladly.” She always enjoyed orders to kick the enemy in the teeth.
* * *
Beata had to admit that Mara was quick on the trigger. No sooner had the word gladly left her mouth than the images of her ships on the plot was totally obscured by the icons of missiles. She had over ten thousand ships, though most were light units. She still had her own seventy-two battle cruisers, a couple of battleships, and over sixteen hundred of the Klavarta small battle wagons. The battle cruisers and the Klavarta battleships all had about the same number of launchers. Forty-five to fifty. Capable of putting out a volley of over seventy-five thousand missiles. The smaller ships added another hundred thousand or so.
Beata could see them in her mind's eye. Ten thousand ships spinning in place, turning all of their launch tubes in turn. Sending just under two hundred thousand missiles out with each volley. The Cacas would be picking them up from their graviton emissions. It would take over fourteen hours for those missiles to get to them, but they would know they were coming. And they were too deep in the system to get away from most of them. They could shift vectors, try to get away, but the missiles would pick up their graviton emissions and seek, eventually catching them.
It looked like an overwhelming mass, though Beata knew against a fleet that size it was anything but. They would start cycling counters at maximum range, and if ten thousand got within laser range and lined up for the attack, she would be very fortunate. If they got a hundred hits it would be a miracle, but she would take every hit she could get. And eventually they would run out of counters, and only their lasers and close in projectile weapons would be available for defense. Then she would start getting more kills. She still didn't think she could destroy the Caca fleet. She couldn't get that lucky. But if she could take out a third of it without losing any of her force, she was betting she could win the next battle.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 21
