Exodus: Empires at War: Book 17: The Rebirth

by Doug Dandridge

  “Watch out for your younger brother,” he asked his eldest. “He's meddling with a lot of sacred beasts, and there's no telling when the old guard is going to react.”

  Maratan had been given the position of Inspector of Ships, which was much more complicated than it sounded. He was responsible for allotting resources to build ships, including building slips. It also included supervising ship design, which is where the Emperor thought the problems would arise. The current classes of Ca'cadasan ships had been the primary vessels for the fleet for over five hundred years. Battleships, cruisers and scouts, in a one to two to four proportion. The humans built different classes of ships, in different proportions, and Mrastaran thought, from experience that their method was better.

  Ca'cadasan scouts massed four hundred thousand tons, making them a powerful warship in their own right. Problem was, they were too big. A missile hit on one of them blew them out of space, same as the two hundred thousand ton human destroyers. The humans could build two of their scouts for every one of his, and they built eight or nine of them for every battleship. Not just to more efficiently scout, but also to form swarms of pickets for missile defense. He thought their system worked much better than his, so he had ordered Maratan to start construction of the smaller scouts that he had approved, while ceasing production of the old standard. The old guard, the officers who thought that any change was bad, had raised hell when the new class had been announced. Because he was Emperor he had been able to push his will through the old guard, and the new class was now building.

  He also thought the cruisers were an unwieldy class. Big enough to challenge a couple of the human cruisers, one would still die from a single missile hit. He had wanted to build a class half their mass, but had decided that the scouts were more important. That was a battle he could fight at a later time. The standard twenty-five million ton battleship was also too big in his opinion. Again, a single missile hit could take one out, same as the around fifteen million ton human battleships. The larger ships could weather a close in beam duel, but those had been few and far between in this war. This had been a missile war, and it didn't look like it was going to change.

  “Well, keep on it,” said Mrastaran. “If your brother needs help, give it. I can't afford the two of you disagreeing in public.”

  “In the category of good news, father, the first of the new production centers will come online in two weeks.”

  “Very good. I'm hoping that will remove them from the radar of the enemy.”

  Mrastaran had decided that the human raids on his industrial centers needed to stop if his Empire was to catch up with them on shipbuilding. There were still plenty of systems in the far reaches of the Empire that the humans had yet to hit. However, with so many alien subjects going over to them, he didn't doubt that they knew where all of his shipyards were. So, he had decided to build new shipyards that only the members of the high command knew about.

  That had been the brainchild of Mataran. The Emperor was very glad that he had trained his sons to think. It was good to have some thoughtful males on his staff that he could trust with his life. Mataran had decided that building shipyards in uninhabited systems, linked to the capital by wormhole gate, would safeguard them. Beings assigned to those system were there for the duration of the war, and nothing was allowed to enter or leave the system through hyper. Hopefully it would make the systems untraceable, arsenals that could rearm the Ca'cadasan fleet as many times as needed.

  “We're getting more flack from the rank and file over the rationing system. Most of them don't like the idea of only eating vat grown meat.”

  Mrastaran had been afraid of that. He had thought it would be easier to forbid the slaughter of aliens for food. He thought it a barbaric practice whose time was done. Vat grown food was just as nutritious, if not quite as tasty. The officers, along with the rank and file, were not willing to give up one of their few remaining luxuries, and he wasn't yet ready to fight that battle. He had mandated better treatment for the aliens that labored for the Empire. While not sure if that would pay immediate dividends, he was sure it would result in better relations in the future. And the Maurids had been reinstated to their past positions in the Empire, though Mrastaran hadn't been naive enough to give them access to sensitive information. He was sure that there were many among those seemingly coming back into the fold who were still on the side of the humans.

  “We'll continue processing the aliens earmarked as rations,” said Mrastaran, reluctantly. “I want that practice killed, eventually, but we have more important things to deal with. And how goes your studies?”

  “The humans seem to have a long and complicated history of warfare,” said Mrashrasta, his eyes widening slightly. “I think that if the old Emperor had known so much about them, he wouldn't have ordered their extermination.”

  The Emperor wasn't sure about that. Those people, much like many this day, had been sure of themselves to the point of arrogance. They wouldn't have believed that any species could cause them so much trouble, much less one with the primitive tech of humans of the time.

  “I think I might be able to surprise them with some of their own historical tactics,” said the Emperor, smiling. “They are not used to seeing these innovations from us, and I think I can use them to sting them.”

  “Take care of yourself, father,” said the eldest son. “Don't go leading any charges up the middle. Or try a Custer, and take on more than you can handle.”

  Mrastaran's face broke into a wide smile. His son had been studying the historical tactics of the enemy after all, including some of their biggest failures.

  “Worry not, my son. My ship and I will remain far back from the action.”

  Doing so might bother him on some level. But he wasn't so big a fool that he didn't understand his importance to the Empire.

  * * *

  Sean looked at the object that rotated in the holo. Several meters long, about a meter and a half wide, features except for the nubs of grabbers that would be extended when needed. It may not have looked impressive, but it had the potential to change missile warfare forever.

  “We have been manufacturing the decoys as fast as we are able, given the resources available,” said Admiral Chan, looking out of another holo. “We have several logistics ships loaded up with them and ready to go to the front.”

  “Which one?” he asked, looking at his tech genius.

  “We're shipping to Mgonda first. We don't have enough for everyone, and these things work best in mass deployments.”

  “And your sure they're going to work in combat?”

  “No, your Majesty. I'm not. They have passed every test, including live fire exercises. But we're sure of combat capability until they've actually faced enemy fire.”

  Sean appreciated the honesty of the admiral, one of his greatest assets in this war. Chan was no a combat admiral. She had served as the commander of a carrier force in one operation, more as a reward for her service that anything else. Sean felt more comfortable with the admiral working at desk, looking over the thousands of research proposals that came through every month and picking the ones with the most promise.

  “In the tests they sucked out best missiles right in, off course, and took them out when they got close. We'll only know if they really work when a unit is threatened by a huge enemy launch and their pushed to the limit.”

  “Kind of hard on the people on the receiving end if they don't work.”

  “True,” admitted Chan. “But think of it this way. A unit under that kind of fire is already at extreme risk, so any advantage these decoys give them will be welcome.”

  Unless they take the place of counter missiles, thought the Emperor. One reason he hadn't authorized their deployment on warships, which already dedicated most of their space to vital things like missiles, counters and antimatter. Putting them aboard logistics ships, which had hundreds of thousands of cubic meters of cargo space, was something else.

  “I approve of bringing the
m to the front, but I will only agree to putting a limited number of them aboard warships, for testing purposes only.”

  “Okay,” said Chan, looking disappointed. “You're in charge.”

  Yes, I am, thought the Emperor with a smile. “So what else do you have in the pipeline that hasn't made it into the reports?”

  Chapter Two

  There is no instance of a nation benefiting from prolonged warfare. Sun Tzu

  “I don't see what all the fuss is about this new Emperor,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski. “So he's smarter than the average Caca. That isn't saying much.”

  Admiral Lenkowski,” said the Countess Grand Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk, attending the conference from over nine thousand light years away, in the Nation of New Earth. “I have the utmost respect for you. So please take this the right way when I say that you are letting your own arrogance get in the way of a thoughtful approach to the problem.”

  Sean smiled. Beata had a reputation of saying what she meant, no matter how much it hurt the feelings of the one she was talking too. She was actually developing some diplomatic acumen. She was developing the diplomacy to fit in with her elevation to Countess.

  “They're all dumb as rocks,” continued Len. “Sure, they sometimes get lucky, but they always seem to make the same mistakes, over and over.”

  “This one is different,” said Beata. “He actually thinks before he acts. I council caution where he is concerned.”

  Sean could tell from her expression that she was trying to hold back some comments. He happened to agree with her as far as this new Emperor was concerned. After studying the battle extensively, he could see that any human commander would have had trouble dealing with him. His respect for Bednarczyk had gone up several notches after going over her records from the battles. He still wasn't sure if she was on the level of Lenkowski or Mgonda, but she was damned close.

  “A secondary campaign on a secondary front,” scoffed Len, his eyes boring into the image of Bednarczyk. “I'm sure he won't give an experienced fleet commander the same level of difficulty.”

  Here it comes, thought Sean, preparing himself for the backlash.

  “Why you trumped up, arrogant little child,” said Beata in a low voice. “How dare you. I doubt if you would have done any better against Mrastaran. In fact, I know it.”

  “Why, you...”

  “Enough,” yelled Sean, looking from holographic face to face, taking in the smiling visage of Mgonda and the scowling expression of Sondra McCullom as well. “I don't expect that all of my admirals will like each other. I do expect that they will get along and work with each other. So, there will be no personal insults in these conferences. Understood?”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” said Beata, looking down. “And I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

  Len was silent, like he was refusing to admit to any wrong.

  “Do you understand me, Grand Fleet Admiral Lenkowski? Answer me.”

  “I understand, your Majesty. And I will work on my, arrogance.”

  Sean could tell that Len was still steaming. Well, he would just have to get used to it. Beata, by her actions and through her leadership, had joined the ranks of his senior commanders. If they didn't want to welcome her into their exclusive club that was their prerogative. But, as he said, they would have to work with her. Even if she was on the other side of their enemy's empire.

  In fact, Beata was now the most decorated of his admirals, having earned not only the Imperial Medal of Heroism, but the President's Medal of Honor from New Earth. Add to that her patent of nobility, and the only thing she lacked over the other grand fleet admirals was time in service.

  “And so, Admiral Bednarczyk, what can you tell us about this new Emperor, the male you have faced in battle twice?” asked Mgonda, himself seeming much more welcoming of another opinion than Len.

  “Well, one thing I can say,” said Beata after releasing a calming breath. “Don't expect the normal Caca behavior from him. He thinks before he acts, and his decisions seem to be sound. He won't sacrifice his ships or his people without good cause, though he will if he thinks it will give him an advantage.”

  “You beat him, twice,” said Len, his tone indicating that he was discounting the intelligence of that Caca admiral, one beat by a newly promoted six star.

  “And I almost lost my ass to him, twice,” said Beata, puffing up in anger once again. “I had so many tech advantages over him both times that a standard Caca admiral would have lost, badly. I only beat the Caca fleet so badly because the male that took over on his recall did something really stupid. Given time, Mrastaran would have pounded me until I had nothing left.”

  “I agree with Admiral Bednarczyk,” said Ekaterina Sergiov, attending in person, sitting a chair close to the Emperor. “Our intelligence sources in their Empire, such as they are, have indicated that he is an unusual male. Most likely an atheist, he still adheres to the principles of their old religion. Said to be a philosopher, a thinker, he has managed to maneuver every male who has challenged him into an unwinnable situation. He studies history, including ours. Remember, the Cacas took whole libraries of book files from New Moscow. I expect he is going to make some decisions that the rest of his people won't like, but in the long run we won't like them either.”

  “Any chance he offends enough people that they take him down?” asked Sondra McCollum, leaning forward in her chair.

  “I doubt it,” answered Sergiov. “This is an intelligent and thoughtful male. He will only push as far as he thinks he can get away with it, then back off. He will let the people become accustomed to the changes he has made before he makes more of them. And he will make damned sure he is never alone with Cacas he doesn't trust, insuring that he has sufficient security to take care of any attempted coup.”

  “The bottom line, ladies and gentlemen,” said Sean, looking over steepled fingers, “is to expect the unexpected. Be ready for anything. If that means moving more cautiously than is the norm for yourselves, then do so.”

  “That will give them more time to prepare, your Majesty,” said Mgonda, one eyebrow raised to show his questioning of that suggestion.

  “Then it takes more time to get to their capital,” said Sean, nodding. “And we get there with more of our people alive. And just because he adheres to their old religion, don't discount the possibility of the Cacas setting off more novas, with or without Mrastaran's permission.”

  “Anything else, your Majesty?” asked Mgonda, clearly impatient to get back to organizing for the coming campaign.

  “No. Get your organizations ready. We move in one week.” Sean turned toward his newest countess and grand fleet admiral. “You had something you wanted to ask me, Countess.”

  Beata waited a moment for the other images to fade, disconnecting from the link. McCullom and Sergiov took a look at the Emperor, then left the room.

  “You have questions about your ennoblement, and what it entails?” asked the Emperor, a smile on his face.

  “I do. I'm not sure I really understand what ennoblement means, your Majesty. I don't feel any different than I did before you made me a countess. And when will I get a chance to see my county.”

  “You county isn't much, yet. Unless you like looking at vast forests, plains full of animals, clear clean lakes and rivers, you know, the boring stuff.”

  “Not boring to me at all,” said Beata after stifling a short laugh. “I grew up on a frontier world, and what you're describing sounds wonderful.”

  “Not many people, yet, though that will change as soon as word gets out,” continued Sean. “As far as your manor, might I suggest an architect who can send you some ideas for you approval. Not saying that you have to approve any of her ideas, but it will give you a starting point.”

  “When I get the time, your Majesty. I have my hands full at the moment.”

  “Of course you do,” said Sean, chuckling himself.

  Beata had an entire front to reorganize. Most of the Impe
rial ships that had been with her during the last campaign were in dock, undergoing major repairs. She had some new ships, right out of the docks and still working up with their cherry crews. The Klavarta were in worse shape, and many of their older ships had been sent to the breaking yards so that their supermetals could be recycled into new construction. The good news was that a thousand new battleships a month would be rolling out of their yards, along with five additional wormholes each week. It would take time to rebuild their fleet, but a couple of thousand ships, both those damaged in the last campaign and those that had been held back, were available, or soon would be. The Slarna and the Gernas were contributing more ships to the war effort, though Sean had been forced to make some diplomatic concessions to those governments to keep them onboard. Those concessions would improve the capabilities of their ships, as well as improving the quality of like for their beings in the street.

  Sean felt that Beata had proven, a couple of times, that she could handle a task like this. Though still not the most diplomatic of admirals, her allies respected and trusted her. The next time an outright lie came from her lips would be a first. She was to organize that front as the supreme commander, by request of all of the allies, including the Klavarta. In a month, maybe a little longer, she would be moving her force into their Empire, making them dance to her tune this time. He didn't expect the Cacas to place too much in her way, since they already had more than they could handle on the main front. He also didn't expect them to give her a clear path into the heart of their Empire. She didn't have to win any decisive victories, though he wouldn't put that past her. As long as she attracted some attention it would be enough.