And was ripped apart by the gravity well of the planet.
Garland Station, the GSN’s space station, glowed red-hot for a second – it actually seemed to melt – and then slowly came apart. The residence and office wheel, the more slowly spinning docking wheel, the ships docked to the station – they all came disconnected and broke up.
Then it was Garland Spacedock’s turn. The GSN’s huge orbital shipyard, it stretched more than twelve miles across its outstretched arms. The blast diameter of the down-transitioning picket ship at three hundred miles distant, however, was sixty miles. The whole spacedock complex glowed red-hot, destroying the temper of its steel, and then came apart. The residence and office wheel broke up and spun pieces crazily away from the crumbling structure.
Further away, two hundred and forty of Fleet Admiral Fulbright’s squadrons had been untargeted by the Sintaran ships because they were in one of the no-space zones. Those ships’ engines shut down and they fell out of formation, drifting hulks. About a quarter of them blew up when their plasma bottles lost containment because the emergency shutdown mechanisms failed.
“Sir, Garland Station’s been destroyed.”
“What?” Fulbright asked.
“Yes, Sir. CIC reports it is breaking up. Just in, Sir. CIC now reports Garland Spacedock is also breaking up.”
“No Sintaran missiles have penetrated that far.”
“No, Sir. CIC is listing them as ‘destroyed by unknown weapon.’”
Garland point-defense crews fought their weapons valiantly, wiping out Sintaran missiles by the tens and hundreds of thousands once they passed into the inner half of the engagement envelope. Ultimately it was a lost cause, as over half a million missiles survived to make their final attack runs on only ninety thousand targets.
The wave of missiles passed over the Garland formations, leaving destruction and debris in its wake.
Behind them came the picket ships. Their job was to pick off any survivors.
They didn’t have much work to do. Barely two hundred ships had – somehow – survived the missile attack.
They didn’t survive the picket ships.
“Withdraw and return to Sintar space,” Admiral Espinoza ordered.
The warships, already outward bound from Garland, lined up behind the big hypergate projector ships and, one by one, up-transitioned into hyperspace.
The picket ships turned around and came back out to their hypergate cruisers, and they, too, up-transitioned for the flight to Sintar’s closest fleet naval base.
When all had gone, the hypergate projector ships drew their hypergates around themselves and disappeared.
Once they left, no space-based military assets remained in Garland.
Summary
Admiral Espinoza led another such attack, with the other half of her main force, in Wingard. Across the Alliance, each of the commanders who had led the first- and second-wave attacks against the nine Alliance mustering points led third-wave attacks against two of the eighteen Alliance capitals.
When it was over, the Alliance navies numbered barely three and a half million hulls, all of them the older-technology warships from before they bought the modern DP-built ships.
The Imperial Navy still had seven and a half million warships, plus eight million picket ships.
They had not yet used any of their new-construction warships.
Accommodations
After they watched the third-wave attacks, Dunham and Peters dropped out of VR and were sitting in their private living room in the Imperial Apartment. Both were somber.
“Those space stations. That was the total-fission weapon?” Peters asked.
“Yes.”
“Pretty effective.”
“If the targets are close to the planet and the geometry is right, yes. Pretty short-range, though.”
Peters nodded. She knew the theory of it, and her math was sharp enough to know the effect fell off as the inverse-square of the distance.
“How many hulls does the Alliance have left after all that?”
Dunham shrugged.
“Three and a half million or so.”
“And we didn’t lose any warships.”
“No,” Dunham said.
“So the Alliance is no longer a threat to Sintar. Is that right?”
“Not an existential threat, no. The Alliance can no longer overcome the Empire, or occupy large parts of it. They can still attack, and do damage, and otherwise be difficult, but to no end.”
“So now what?” she asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether or not they leave us alone,” Dunham said.
“We’re not pressing the attack?”
“No. We’re pulling back into our borders. Putting all our resources on planetary defense. We can put four squadrons of warships and four squadrons of picket ships around every planet of the Empire and still have reserves for the capitals and for Sintar.”
“Does that include Estvia?”
“That depends on Michael. I’ll leave it up to him.”
Peters was silent then. They sat quietly, both lost in their thoughts.
“Do you really think they’ll attack, now, after all that?”
“I don’t know.”
“And attack planetary targets?”
“Again, I don’t know. I didn’t understand the whole thing to begin with. What’s wrong with letting things be?”
“And if they do attack planetary targets?”
Dunham’s white-blue eyes grew cold.
“Then they’re going to regret it.”
“And what is the butcher’s bill this time?” Queen Anne asked Bruce Mallory, her prime minister, and Darrell Dunning, her defense minister.
“We lost four hundred fifty thousand ships, Your Majesty, as well as space stations and space docks here and on several dozen other planets with major military bases,” Dunning said. “We don’t know how those were destroyed. They simply heated up – glowed, one person called it – and then came apart.”
“And the death toll?”
“Seven hundred and fifty million, Ma’am.”
“Is that Phalia, or the Alliance, Mr. Dunning?”
“That’s Phalia, Ma’am. The Alliance lost over three million ships and hundreds of space-based facilities, with almost six billion dead.”
Queen Anne shook her head. The numbers were shocking, but this was the third time around for this sort of thing, and she feared she was becoming inured to the carnage.
Wait. Something curious.
“Where is Admiral Keller this morning, Mr. Dunning?”
“Admiral Keller was visiting the space station when the attack came in, Ma’am. He is one of the casualties.”
That brought it home to her. All across Phalia – all across the Alliance – there were people missing. From meetings. From conferences.
From dinner tables.
From family gatherings.
Lots of people.
“This must end, gentlemen. I will meet with the Emperor.”
Petty Officer Second Class Gertrude Winger and Commander Robert Murphy had worked closely together in getting shuttle operations running smoothly aboard GNS Predator. It was an important function, with tens of thousands of shuttles to recover, at least to the point of getting their crews off. Admiral Fortney was adamant about recovering everyone, even in the aftermath of such horrific carnage.
“We can’t change the outcome of the battle, but we can make sure none of our people die alone and abandoned in space.”
Winger and Murphy found they were both from Helding, a minor planet in the Kingdom of Garland. With seventy five hundred planets in Garland, running across someone else from Helding was a rare event, and they both tended to fall into the planetary accent when talking. Despite the difference in rank, they had become friends.
One evening while he was sitting in his cabin/office, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Murphy sai
d.
Winger came in and closed the door behind her.
“Rob– Commander. Have you heard the news from home?”
“From Helding?”
“No. From Garland. Sintar attacked. They completely wiped out all forces in the Garland system – half the Navy – including taking out both the space station and the space docks.”
“My God.”
That hit home for Murphy. Predator had departed from the space station. That huge facility, gone? Losing ships, even a lot of ships, was one thing, but the space station?
“I worry about Dick and the kids. They’re in Flower, and if this gets any crazier, anything could happen.”
“Get them out of the city, Gerty. Does Dick’s job require him to be there?”
“No. He’s a script writer. He works from home. That really helps when I can be stationed anywhere, or be gone for long periods. There’s always someone home for the boys.”
“So get ‘em out.”
“There’s nowhere for them to go. We don’t know anybody on Garland. Nobody outside the city, anyway. We moved there from Deming when I moved from STC to shuttle pilot school.”
Murphy thought about it. He didn’t see why it wouldn’t work.
“I had Anita take the kids to her parents farmhouse when I left. Three hundred miles west of Flower. I’ll see if Dick and the kids can join them out there.”
“Are you sure that’ll be OK, Rob? That’s a lot of people.”
“Her folks raised seven kids in that house, Gerty. It shouldn’t be a problem. Let me find out.”
“Thanks, Rob. I appreciate it.”
It was after Sunday brunch, and Dunham, Peters, Saaret, and Suzanne sat around the breakfast table. Coffee had been served and the staff had left.
“OK, OK. Go ahead,” Suzanne said.
“Thank you, Suzanne,” Dunham said with a smile.
Saaret was up first.
“So Queen Anne wants to meet with you.”
“Yes. And so does King Michael.”
“You mean Sector Governor Roberts, Bobby?”
Dunham shrugged.
“It’s up to him, Geoffrey. Estvia was never in play.”
“What of Queen Anne. Did she say what she wanted?” Saaret asked.
“No.”
“Interesting question. Surrender? Annexation? Ceasefire? What, I wonder.”
“I don’t know,” Dunham said.
“But you’ll meet with her?”
“Of course.”
“Before or after King Michael?” Saaret asked.
“I haven’t decided. Probably after.”
Saaret nodded.
“Makes sense to me.”
“Bobby,” Suzanne said, “can the Alliance really hurt us now?”
“They’re no longer an existential threat, Suzanne. But they could decide to just cause trouble for trouble’s sake. For vengeance sake, perhaps. Bomb some of our planets.”
“Oh my God. What do we do about that?”
“I’ve pulled all our forces back into our borders, and have deployed defensive forces to every planet. But they might get something through.”
“Would anyone really do that, Bobby?”
“Perhaps. There are eighteen of them, and some of them are more reckless than others.”
“And then they’ll find out what happens when you get angry,” Peters said.
“Yes. Yes, they will.”
“Good,” Suzanne said. “The way to stop that from propagating is to over-react from the start. That’s what’ll keep others in line.”
The battered sedan pulled up in front of the big farmhouse. An older couple came out to greet their visitors, along with a woman in her late thirties.
A man in his early thirties got out of the car, followed by two boys, eight and six. They climbed out the driver’s door after him.
“You must be Dick Winger,” The farmer said, holding out his hand.
“Yes, and these are the boys. Art here, and that’s Jeff.”
“Welcome to our farm. I’m Lester Walston, this is my wife Maida, and our daughter, Anita Murphy.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Winger said. “Thank you for your hospitality. We had no place else to go.”
“So Rob said. Well, this is farm country, and friends are friends. When they’re in trouble, you help out if you can.”
“I very much appreciate that. I grew up on a farm on Deming.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. One of five boys. And my frustrated mother taught us all how to cook, so if you want any help in the kitchen, Ms. Walton, you let me know.”
“Well, I’m used to cooking for nine, Mr. Winger, but I’m not as young as I used to be, so that’ll be a big help.”
“No problem at all, ma’am. And I have a whole trunk full of food and meds here. Store-bought things one really ought to have laid up if there’s going to be trouble.”
“That’s smart thinking, Dick,” Lester Walston said. “Let me help you get all that in the house.”
“Thank you for meeting with me, Your Majesty,” King Michael said when they were both seated in the VR meeting room.
“No problem, Your Highness,” Dunham said. “It’s always good to see you.”
King Michael’s eyebrows went up at the ‘Your Highness.’
“Have you reconsidered your commitment to me to annex Estvia, Your Majesty?”
“No. I thought you might have reconsidered your plan, since Estvia was not in play during the recent hostilities. I didn’t want to force your hand.”
“I have not reconsidered at all, Your Majesty. While Estvia was not in play, it certainly is now.”
“How do you figure?”
“Estvia lies along the direct path from the center of the Democracy of Planets to Sintar, through Annalia, Your Majesty. I expect Pannia and Estvia to be the path of invasion. And, with their aggression against the Empire stymied, I consider it likely that some actors – particularly Annalia, Berinia, and perhaps Garland – may take their hostility elsewhere, if not simply strike out blindly.”
“So you wish to go through with the annexation?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Very much so.”
“Very well, Sector Governor Roberts. Consider it done. The Imperial Navy will begin moving into Estvia immediately.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
“I’m curious, though, Governor Roberts. Why would there be an invasion through Annalia and Estvia? Do you expect the DP to invade Sintar?”
“Or Sintar to invade the DP. Yes, Sire.”
Dunham was surprised at that, and it showed.
“Consider the situation now, Sire. The navies of the Alliance lay in ruins. They have perhaps a third of the hulls – and a quarter of the strength – that they did at the beginning of hostilities. That creates a power vacuum. I expect if you do not annex the Alliance nations, then the DP will. Either way, there are now just two power centers in all of human space, and they will, of course, directly border each other.
“The DP has always considered itself the dominant player in human affairs. If Sintar annexes the Alliance, the DP will be the smaller of the two remaining political entities. This situation will be completely unacceptable to them. They will attack Sintar to redress the imbalance.”
“And if the DP annexes the Alliance, Sector Governor?”
“Then the DP will be the larger of the two remaining entities, and it will work to isolate Sintar, to hem it in, to control your affairs. This is why they don’t want to be the smaller remaining entity, Sire. They expect you would do the same. It may simply be projection, but there you are. Sintar will find the situation increasingly unacceptable until it is forced to attack the DP to redress the issues.
“And either way, the path of invasion runs through Estvia.”
“Interesting. And yet you also fear Annalia, Berinia, and Garland, Governor Roberts.”
“Yes, Sire. The Autarch of Annalia, and the kings of Berinia and Garland, are creature
s of habit and privilege. They have an historical perspective that does not allow the current situation to persist. They persevered through the Fifty Years War. They have persevered since. They have come out – eventually – on top of anything that ever happened. They were raised in this tradition. They literally have no concept of losing, that it is even possible for them to lose. In their minds, they haven’t lost now. They simply have to figure out how to persevere, how to force Sintar to accede to them.”
“But the facts on the ground–“
“Have no bearing whatsoever. Humans are not rational creatures, Your Majesty.”
“What do you expect them to do, Governor Roberts?”
“They can’t defeat the Imperial Navy, Sire. The only thing they have left is to bomb your planets.”
“In violation of the Treaty of Earth?”
“They will justify it to themselves. You deployed ‘robot ships.’ You attacked without a declaration of war. Something, or a combination of somethings. They need to justify it – and they will – because there is no other way forward for them.”
“Do they not realize how big a mistake that would be?”
“No, Sire. In their minds, you simply can’t win against them. It’s not possible. They are royalty, the hereditary rulers of kingdoms that have persisted through all manner of diversity for five hundred years.”
“And Sintar?”
“Is not a hereditary kingdom, Sire. You are a commoner, raised to the purple by your sister. You cannot prevail against royalty with that kind of pedigree. It’s obvious.”
Dunham’s surprise must have shown.
“Trust me, Sire. I am more than aware of the attitude. I was raised in it.”
Dunham shook his head.
“It just seems like they live in a fantasy world.”
“Yes, Sire. They do. One in which their decisions, good or bad, have never had much impact on them or their familiars.”
Dunham looked down at the floor between them, lost in thought. Roberts waited. Finally Dunham looked up.
“Tell the Estvian Navy that the Imperial Navy is coming, so there isn’t any confusion there, Governor Roberts.”
EMPIRE: Warlord (EMPIRE SERIES Book 5) Page 12