“I'm estimating that we've taken out almost half their force, ma'am,” said her chief of staff, Captain Goruptal. The man's only duty during the battle had been to keep track of what was going on by the numbers, and reporting them to his admiral.
“Where are my warp fighters?”
“Coming in now, ma'am. Just about to hit.”
The warp fighters had boosted faster than light away from her force and the Cacas, putting some distance between themselves and the warp lances of the enemy. They were already within range when launched from their carriers. Now they were over a light minute away, turning, and boosting back at twenty lights. At a distance of thirty light seconds, just out of range of the warp lances on the outer Caca ships, they released their missiles, over three thousand weapons coming in at more than twenty times the speed of light.
The missiles did enter the engagement range of the warp lances. They couldn't avoid it. They did, however, have very good evasion routines and were relatively small targets. Over a thousand of them were swept out of space, dropped out of warp to drift, except for the several hundred whose warheads had breached from the stress of being pushed into normal space.
Over two thousand of them made it into engagement range. More than a thousand were taken out by masses of counters and close in weapons. That worked to the advantage of the human scout force, since those were weapons that were not used to intercept other missiles, allowing more penetrations, more hits. The warp missiles, those that made it through, spread themselves out among about five hundred ships. Compression fields ate through cold plasma and hull armor alike, allowing the warheads to go off deep within the ships. Almost a hundred of those vessels were total losses. The other four hundred took severe damage, crippling their combat abilities.
The warp fighters moved out again, curving around to head back to their carriers. It would take at least ten minutes to rearm before they could make another strike. They could still influence the battle, but there would be a lot of fighting in that ten minutes, and the battle might already be decided by that point.
* * *
“We're being hit again,” said Admiral Trostara, Mrastaran's chief of staff. “Wormhole missiles coming on the plot.”
“What kind?” asked the fleet commander, turning on his CoS and pointing a pair of fingers.
“More of the smaller type,” said the chief of staff, shaking slightly. “The new ones. We're having problems tracking and taking them out.”
Which meant he was losing more ships to them. Fifty tons, a hundred tons. If they hit a ship it didn't really matter. A terraton of kinetic energy or five hundred gigatons. Both would totally destroy his largest ships. The difference was when they detonated close to a ship without hitting. The larger missiles did more damage, but the smaller warheads had the advantage of spreading the destructive wealth.
“Another group coming in.”
“So soon?” gasped the commander.
“We're getting them coming in from north and south, sir,” said the grimacing chief of staff.
These were the launches coming in before Tonnasar's force got to them. There would be multiple waves coming in, until they had been interrupted. If Tonnasar defeated them Mrastaran would no longer receive missiles from that force. And if Tonnasar's second force found they could take out the other force, the one to the north, all he had to do was find the main fleet.
If there even was one. No matter how many ships were out there, most of the wormhole launchers had to be there. The humans couldn't have that many, could they? If they had a considerable number more than he suspected he might still win this battle, and lose the campaign.
“Any reports from Tonnasar?” growled the anxious admiral.
“No, sir,” called out the chief of staff. “Nothing since his wormhole went down. A couple of graviton pulses from other ships, mostly asking for help. But nothing else.”
Mrastaran thought the other admiral was dead, along with his ship. That they were getting only a couple of graviton pulses, and none with situation reports, meant that the leadership of that force was unsteady. Maybe nonexistent. Not a very good state of affairs.
“We've just lost twenty-seven more ships, my Lord,” reported his tactical officer. “Two supercruisers. The rest scouts.”
The escorts were doing their job. Hard on them and their crews, but what he needed were battleships, and they ensured that he kept most of what he had.
“We just lost a pair of battleships, my Lord,” cried the tactical officer, almost as if he had read the admiral's mind.
Mrastaran turned and growled, wishing he could rip the head off of the reporting officer. Unlike many Ca'cadasan officers, he couldn't do that to a loyal male who was just doing his duty, no matter what his rage was telling him to do. But a pair of battleships, right after the screen had done so well? It was almost too much to handle.
They were also receiving wormhole launched missiles from other points around the system. He had no way of knowing how many ships were in those forces, or if there were only single wormhole equipped vessels. From the numbers of missiles coming in he thought it the latter. If they had more than a single wormhole they would be sending larger streams, wouldn't they? And if it was only a single vessel, or a capital ship with a few escorts, anything he sent against them would have an easy time of it. If he knew exactly where they were, and had good targeting solutions, neither of which was true.
“When will our ships reach the nearest gas giant moons?” he asked, looking back over at his chief of staff. At least they thought the enemy had something there, unless it had already been destroyed by his launch at them. Missiles were still coming in on that vector, which meant there were some kind of platforms there, or had been about an hour ago.
“Not for another hour, sir.”
Mrastaran didn't like that answer, but it was one he would have to live with. They were still firing missiles at those launch points, but it hadn't stopped the incoming. And he couldn't overrule the laws of physics. Ships he sent inward could carry the momentum they already had with them. But any heading out needed to kill their inward momentum. Which added to their flight time.
“How long until our second force comes in?”
“Twelve minutes, my Lord.”
Then we'll know what we're facing to the north, he thought. Was that the main enemy force, or just another small group set up with wormholes, a firing line to cause attrition to his fleet? If the former, his ships should be able to take them out. If the latter, then he would know what he needed to do.
“Warp fighters coming in from the stern, my Lord,” shouted out one officer.
“Fast attack ships coming in from forward,” called out another.
“Prepare to change vectors,” he ordered. He thought those FAS might be planting more mines to his front, and that was something he would try to avoid, if at all possible. He had fallen into the trap once, but not again.
* * *
“Admiral Montgomery. Report.” Beata hated to intrude on the thoughts of her subordinate in the middle of a battle, but she needed to know what was going on.
“The admiral told me to report for her, ma'am,” said Captain Michael Goruptal, her chief of staff, appearing on the holo.
“Status?”
“We believe we are winning,” said the officer, his swarthy face appearing on the com. He was sweating, and had developed a tick under one eye, a sure sign of stress “At least we still have ten of our wormholes. And our flagship is still in one piece. But the enemy is tougher than we thought.”
Then good thing they sent a third of their force toward me, thought Beata. She had no doubt that her fleet would take out those Cacas. She also had no doubt that she would be hurt, but not as much as Mara. That entire force, if consolidated, would surely have wiped Mara from the sky.
“We just took out the heart of their fleet,” said an exultant Goruptal, eyes wide as a smile started to play on his lips. “The Klavarta ships are swarming in to hit them harder.
”
“Caca ships will be entering normal space near us in two minutes,” called out Captain Janssen.
“Keep me informed, Captain,” Beata told Mara's chief of staff. “I have problems of my own to deal with.”
From that last report it was looking good for Mara's force. But until they actually won that meant nothing. It was looking like the combination of laser mines, wormhole launched missiles and warp fighters had tipped the battle in their favor. Now she just had to finish it. Mara was good at that, and would undoubtedly kill the rest of the Cacas, unless something untoward happened. Beata dismissed that thought before it became reality. Not that she really believed such nonsense, but why take chances?
“Caca ships will be entering normal space within the next minute.”
It didn't actually take that long. The Caca ships came jumping into normal space twenty-one seconds before the barrier, a normal space distance of just over three light minutes. And three light seconds up from where they had been expected. Beata grunted in satisfaction. If she had set the mines in one massive field right in front of them they would have avoided them completely. Even though they had come out further than the barrier, their velocity of point three light meant that, even if they could jump back into hyper, they were too close to change vectors and avoid the barriers. They would catastrophically translate, and that would be the end of that. Which meant she could go ahead and hit them with everything she had.
She was five light minutes inside the barrier, close enough where she could still boost into hyper before anything from the inner system could reach them. It would take the missiles from the just translated force just over fifteen minutes, using the velocity imparted on them from their launching ships. Even though Beata's ships were barely moving, her launch would also use the momentum of the enemy fleet for a similar strike time after firing.
“Fire,” she called out, setting in motion the attack she had already preplotted.
The sixteen wormholes fired their nine hundred and sixty missiles at point nine five light. Those weapons would reach the enemy first by a wide margin, just over five minutes. The rest would take the same fifteen minutes the enemy launched missiles would. Those tube launched missiles started off just after the first volley of wormhole missiles, the ships turning in place to accelerate the weapons through their tubes. The box launchers had been released into space near the ships, releasing another three hundred thousand missiles in their single volley.
Seven hundred warp fighters came sweeping in from the flanks, releasing their twenty-eight hundred missiles into the enemy, hitting them immediately, disrupting the launches from a number of those ships.
“We're picking up graviton pulses from one of the enemy ships,” called out the flag sensor officer.
Well, now they have an idea about how many ships I have, thought Beata. But fortunately it also pointed her to the command ship of that force.
“Target that ship with our next wormhole launch,” she ordered, hoping to take the head off the snake.
Maybe they had another commander over there who could take over. But he probably wouldn't be as good as the male who was in charge. Or at least she hoped.
“Targeting. Firing.”
The fleet got off ten wormhole launches before the enemy missiles arrived. Nine thousand six hundred missiles, generating over five hundred hits. Most of those ships were gone, including the command ship. Then the enemy weapons started to arrive, at the very same time the larger mass of human missiles started to hit.
A moment later the enemy force was gone as if it had never been. Of course, not every ship had been destroyed, but those who survived were not combat worthy. They were drifting hulks, filled with panicked crew fighting to survive. She would give them that opportunity, and kill any ship that initiated any kind of offensive action.
“Order all missiles in transit to decel,” she ordered. “They are to veer off their targets.” There was no need to hit those lame ducks. Much as she liked killing Cacas, there came a time to end the killing in every fight, and for that force the time had come.
She could have ordered all of those missiles to self-destruct. She preferred to send out a decel and come back order. She might have to spend some time and effort collecting them for use again. Some would not be usable until their crystal matrix batteries were recharged. But she could probably still find a use for them, their warheads at least.
Now, how is Mara doing?
* * *
“We have a message about the enemy fleet, my Lord.”
“Show me.”
A holo appeared by Mrastaran's side. He looked over the list. One of those superbattleships of theirs, he thought, looking at the largest ship on the list. He no longer had the most powerful ships in the system. Still, they only had one of them. But the over two hundred standard battleships were still bad news. He didn't know how many wormholes they had, but the com estimated less than twenty. Almost a hundred of their smaller capital ships, a thousand or more smaller vessels. And possibly twenty of their fighter carriers.
“I can beat that fleet,” he said under his breath. The only problem was, could he get to them before they went into hyper? Probably not, but he still needed to do something. He still had one volley on the way, which probably wouldn't amount to anything against a prepared force that size.
“How is the other outer force doing?”
“Not, well, my Lord,” stammered the hesitant com officer. “They have been reduced to less than a quarter of their initial strength. While the humans still have two thirds of their initial force.”
So, they're going to lose, he thought, growling deep in his throat. All he had accomplished sending them in was finding out what he faced. Maybe that was enough, but he still didn't like wasting males just to get information.
“Missiles incoming.”
Another set of wormhole launches. They would continue to come in over the next couple of hours, even if their launch forces had been destroyed. And that was looking like it wasn't going to happen. Meaning they could fire on him as long as they were still in the system.
“Another massive launch from the north force, my Lord. Almost a million missiles.”
And a far larger launch than he would expect from a force that size. They weren't just firing their internal tubes. He wasn't sure how many strap on launchers they might have, or if they had the missiles sitting in space, launched without the assist of magnetic accelerators. It didn't really matter, since the fact that they could send out a massive launch like that was staring him in the face.
He hated to admit it, but his best option now was to continue on to the planet with his main fleet, while splitting off a smaller force to head out of the system and chase the enemy forces away. The only reason he wouldn't send his main fleet after them was it would be wasted effort. They would boost into hyper and away before he could close with them. A smaller force, going into hyper at a point of the ecliptic, could move around and force them to leave, while his main force continued to occupy the system as per the orders of the Emperor.
Mrastaran still didn't know why the Emperor wanted this system, but he had a bad feeling about it. A trap for the humans. If they sent in a large enough force to push him out, with enough wormholes, it wouldn't matter what kind of trap he tried to set. Would it? Unless it was something truly horrible.
* * *
“Mr. President. I am trying to gather another fleet and strike the Cacas from the rear.”
“That is all very well and good, Admiral Klanarat,” said the president of the Nation of New Earth, frowning. “Right now, the Terran Admiral Bednarczyk is fighting a battle for the Pleisia system. She is on the spot, and will therefore remain in command of that battle.”
“But...”
“No buts, Admiral. Admiral Bednarczyk is the commander on the spot. It is her battle to fight. When you finally get your fleet in support of them we will discuss command arrangements.”
Klanarat was taken aback. The president h
ad not told him that he would take command when he joined the fleets. Only that they would then discuss the command arrangements. Which could mean anything, including the Imperial admiral retaining command.
What has that bitch been telling him? thought the enraged admiral. He had known from the start that she had wanted command of the entire force, something that was his by right of being the highest serving officer in the Klavarta fleet. Instead, that damned unaltered human female had tried to take it. And now she probably had it in her grasp.
I can go in there and kill the Cacas once they are entrenched in the system, he thought. If he had to kill all the aliens on Pleisia to do so he could sleep well. It wasn't like they were real people. Not like the Alphas of the Klavarta, or even the lesser peoples of original human extraction. It had made him sick when the chair-people of the government had been killed by the servants of that damned Emperor a quarter of the way across the Galaxy. After that they had all been forced to pretend that they had turned over a new leaf, buried their hatred of all aliens, and moved on.
Maybe some of the Klavarta had done exactly that. Maybe even most of them. But not Admiral Jrasstra Klanarat. He carried a deep abiding hate for all non-humans, even their so-called allies. Inferior beings, all of them.
“We have more ships coming into detection range, sir,” called out the staff sensor officer. “It looks like a large formation. Twenty-seven of our battleships, ninety-five cruisers and escorts. And, it looks like over a hundred allied ships are with them. Slarna and Gernas.”
Klanarat was happy to hear the that over a hundred ships of his nation were about to join his force. That was how he would grow a fleet. A drib here, a drab there, until he had a force the Cacas would have to respond to. He cared little for the alien ships, except that he could use them in battle as fodder to soak up enemy fire. If all of them died so that some of his ships would continue to fight, he applauded that outcome.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 23
