Exodus: Empires at War: Book 17: The Rebirth

by Doug Dandridge

  “Two more degrees to port,” shouted the anxious com tech, “and one down.”

  The carrier, of course, could track them on its sensors, as well as the enemy ships, and they could calculate the final position of each fighter. They didn't want collisions, but they also wanted a spread that would insure that at least some missiles would reach the center of the formation. The Klassekians aboard the carrier were transmitting the information to siblings. It had required some shifting of com techs, so that every fighter had a contact with the carrier that could relay the information in a timely manner. And it had required waiting for missiles to be ferried over from the now destroyed battleship, to be mated with the hastily constructed mounts.

  “Two ships down to warp lances,” shouted the tech.

  Another problem. They would be well within range of the ship mounted warp lances of the enemy. And two of his ships had just been dropped into normal space. If they were intact enough they could still launch, but there was always the possibility that they would emerge from warp as debris. Her own ship shook slightly, the sign of a near miss, and the commander expect them to sweep it back through them and end her own run.

  “Entry in three, two, one,” counted the com tech. At one the pilot disengaged warp, and they emerged into normal space, sitting still, the perfect target for the defensive weapons of the enemy.

  The star field appeared on the viewer, the icons of the enemy fleet on the holo. The target ship was outlined, one of the ten superbattleships. Hopefully the right one.

  “Locking on and firing,” called out the pilot, weapons controls at his station.

  Three icons disappeared from the plot. Three of her fighters, hit by warship class laser weapons. The ships were not boosting, since to do so would give the enemy an even clearer target from their emissions. The fighter shook slightly as it released its missiles from the mounts, and three new icons appeared as they boosted forward at twenty thousand gravities. Forty-five missiles were launched, flight time of ten seconds, and two more fighters fell off the plot. Much as the commander would have liked to see how the missiles did she needed to get the hell out of here.

  “Go into warp and get us out of here,” she shouted, waking the pilot from his fascinated staring at the missile icons on the plot.

  “Warp,” said the pilot, and there was the moment of disorientation as the ship went into the unreal bubble that separated from space and time.

  “Two more fighters taken by warp lances,” called out the tech.

  “Evasives,” shouted Rodriguez, and the pilot started moving them back and forth on random courses to avoid warp lances.

  “We're one point one light minute from their fleet,” shouted the pilot.

  We're safe, thought the commander, breathing a sigh of relief. Now, if only the sacrifice of nine of her fighters actually accomplished anything.

  * * *

  “We have warp fighters on approach,” called out the sensor officer.

  What in the hell are they up to? thought Lokasure, looking quickly at the plot. If they had had more of the warp missiles, why had they waited so long to deploy them.

  “Engage them with warp lances if they come within range.” Lokasure didn't expect them to do so, since they didn't need to for a warp missile launch. And then the second shock.

  “They're entering warp lance range. Engaging.”

  It was a difficult process targeting ships moving in warp, since they were essentially going faster than light. Still, it was possible, and Lokasure was regretting that he didn't have more ships equipped with the lances. And then the third shock.

  “They're dropping into normal space at fifteen light seconds range.”

  “Why in the hell would they do that?” growled the admiral. It seemed insane, but there had to be a reason. They wouldn't just throw away ships like that. But ships in normal space were not good targets for warp lance fire. It might shake them up a little, but it wouldn't cause the damage it would in dropping a ship out of warp. “Hit them with lasers.”

  He wasn't sure if the laser would get there before they went back into warp. But he had to try, and the lances would be ready to reengage if and when they went back into warp.

  “They've released missiles, my Lord,” shouted out the sensor officer.

  “Warp?”

  “No, my Lord. Normal space weapons. Fifty-five of them. Retasking lasers to target the missiles.”

  Now it made sense. The warp fighters had weapons that they couldn't launch through their warp bubbles, and they needed to get close to reduce the flight time.

  “We've taken out a dozen, six more,” the tactical officer shouted, doing a running commentary on the engagement. “Missiles coming in at twenty thousand gravities. Probable targets, our capital ships.”

  Of course they would aim for our most powerful ships, thought the admiral. But there really weren't enough missiles to get all of them.

  “Impact in five seconds. Thirteen more missiles gone. Firming up the targeting.” The tactical officer looked back at the admiral. “Us.”

  Lokasure felt the emotion of total defeat come over him. There were still over twenty missiles coming at his ship, two seconds from impact. His force could still kill the enemy carrier, but he wouldn't be around to see it.

  The ship shook hard as six missiles hit. A second later the hits to engineering caused one of the reactors to breach, and twenty-five million tons of warship converted to plasma.

  * * *

  “We got them, ma'am,” called out the tactical officer.

  Thank God, thought Merkle, smiling briefly. She and her ship might still not survive, but this enemy commander wouldn't see it.

  “We're ready to eject the stern section, ma'am,” said the chief engineer. “At your command.”

  “Do it,” she ordered. No use waiting, and they had to have some time if things went wrong.

  The ship shook, the final cutting charges separating the stern from the rest of the ship, almost.

  “We have some sections still holding,” said the engineer. “We have people moving out to take care of it.”

  “Next missile swarm one minute and thirty-five seconds to impact,” called out the tactical officer.

  That was how much time they had. No more, no less.

  * * *

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” mumbled Finn under her breath. The stern section hadn't flown clear, and two of the holds were in the section she and her team had worked. So it was up to them to clear it, and the clock was ticking.

  “Let's get going, people,” she shouted over the com. “Unless you want to be on the target zone when they hit.”

  Fortunately they had left the cutting lasers in place, in a hurry to get away. Finn thought they wouldn't have been able to do it if they had to set the equipment up again. The crew got to it, firing up the lasers and cutting away. Sparks showed at other places around the ring, other teams going at it.

  How in the hell did we miss so many, thought the petty officer. The only thing she could figure was that the plasma of the explosions had spot welded some sections instantaneously. The thinness of the metal she cut through seemed to verify that theory. It really didn't matter. What mattered was they needed the section free, so it could boost away and save the lives of all the crew.

  “Forty-three seconds to impact,” said a voice over the com.

  Thanks a lot, thought Finn. She really didn't need the extra pressure. A moment later they had all of their welds cut. Great, but until the others did the same it didn't matter.

  “Thirty seconds to impact.”

  “We're free here,” called out the last of the teams. The stern section immediately sped away, no longer accelerating with the rest of the ship.

  “Help,” yelled a voice over the com. “I'm on the stern section and can't get back to the ship. Someone help me.”

  A chill went up Finn's spine. She felt grateful that it wasn't one of her people, then guilty at that thought. But she didn't have time to s
tand out here and think.

  “Everyone back into the ship,” she ordered, firing her grapple and pulling herself along to the nearest airlock.

  The stern section detonated as she was entering the lock, the last of her team to get to safety, the way it was supposed to be. She could feel the heat, and the radiation meter went off the scale. Nausea hit, and she stumbled out of the lock and into the ship.

  “Get me to med bay,” said Finn in a weak voice. Then blackness took her.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy. Friedrich Nietzsche

  Captain Merkle watched on the viewer as the stern section exploded, sending out plasma and large pieces. In seconds the large pieces also exploded, and a huge cloud of plasma and debris was interposed between the missiles and the ships. The missiles were tight, taking up less than five thousand kilometers in diameter and within seconds of hitting the cloud. Some tried to change vectors as their sensors registered what was ahead, but missiles were not very nimble, and only two made it around. The rest plowed through, the majority exploding as they burned through the hot plasma.

  Only a hundred or so of the missiles made it through, though they were all missing their sensor heads, eroded away by the plasma. Most went off onto random courses, unable to find a target. A few came in straight, heading for the last known target. They, and the pair that had gone around, were easy marks for the lasers of the remaining ships.

  “Next wave impact in one minute and thirty seconds,” called out the tactical officer.

  Of course, thought Merkle. The enemy was sending volley after volley. They weren't about to stop until their quarry was destroyed.

  “Is the hyperdrive ready?”

  “We're warming it up now,” said the chief engineer. “Give me a minute.”

  “That's cutting it close, Commander,” said Merkle, the anxiety almost too much to handle.

  “I know captain. But if we try to jump cold all kinds of things could go wrong.”

  “Understood. But if the missiles get within ten seconds, we need to jump, no matter what.”

  “Understood.”

  Merkle stared at the plot, watching the missiles coming in. And another wave behind them. That was the last. The enemy probably figured that they couldn't withstand any more, and were saving whatever they had left for their last battle. The battle cruiser groups were now on the local plot, heading toward the VI barrier and their first jump down. The enemy groups were moving out, jumping as well on accel decel profiles. Most of those were doomed as well, but there were a few that could possibly get away. With the data on the final aspects of the battle. She wasn't sure what good that would do them, but she would prefer that the enemy not know the final outcome of the fight here.

  She did a quick check of her missile defenses. Her ship still had half of its laser emitters feeding three rings. The close in weapons were dry, as were the counter missile magazines. She could still fire counters through her wormhole, and actually had two of the portals aboard, one taken from the sacrificed battleship. The remaining battleship was also out of close in weapon ammunition and counters, but had its wormhole to launch counter missiles. And the remaining screens were down to lasers, without any other weapons. All in all it wasn't enough. The next wave would kill them, all of them, every ship. Anything that did the unlikely and escaped would surely fall to the last.

  “Missile impact in twenty-five seconds,” called out the tactical officer.

  “Engineer?”

  “Another couple of seconds, ma'am. We're getting some strange resonances from the upper array.”

  The warp fighters swept through the missile waves, taking out many, but not enough. Those ships would not be going with her, but they had other vessels in the system they could base at temporarily.

  “Impact in fifteen seconds.”

  Get us into hyper, she raged internally. The battleship and screens were sticking to their posts, though all were capable of getting into hyper at a moment's notice.

  “Impact in ten seconds.”

  Merkle closed her eyes and said a prayer, sure that she was taking her last breath.

  “Jumping,” called out the chief engineer.

  The nausea of translation hit and the ship started shaking. Probably from those strange resonances from the upper array. The captain thought the ship might come apart, the shaking grew to such intensity, then it smoothed out without warning.

  “We're in VII, ma'am,” shouted the triumphant chief engineer. “Boosting at five hundred and twenty gravities.”

  “Congratulations, Commander,” said a smiling Merkle. The loss of mass and length had allowed them to make the jump to the highest attainable dimension. And it had given them the capability to boost at considerable acceleration. Still not enough to outrun the enemy, which already had the acceleration advantage, but hadn't gotten to the point where they were going too fast to jump into hyper.

  “Enemy ships jumping into hyper, ma'am. Still on course to come after us.”

  It would take them some minutes to get missiles to them, so they didn't need counters for some time. Which meant.

  “Start sending missiles through at them,” she ordered. That would be one hundred and eighty missiles into hyper VII every thirty seconds. Until the launch tubes ran out and all needed to accelerate more missiles. Not enough to destroy this enemy, but maybe enough to hurt them. Enough to make them give up. She wasn't sure, but it was a chance. Of course a better chance could also present itself.

  “How fast were they going when they jumped?” she asked her navigation officer.

  “They were up to point two four light, ma'am.”

  “Let me know when they pass point three,” ordered the captain. If they hit the point where they couldn't jump other possibilities opened up. “And give me a graphic of our relative positions when that happens.”

  The graphic came up in a holo. The enemy would be more than a light minute behind, still out of beam range, just.

  “Have they fired any missiles at us?”

  “No, ma'am,” replied the tactical officer. “They had to be low on them, after all they had fired. So they must be hoping to get us into beam range and finish us off.”

  I hope so, thought Merkle. Because if they launched more missiles her plan wouldn't work. And it was the only one she had.

  “The Admiral's on the com, ma'am.”

  Might as well let him know what's going on, she thought, Not that he could do anything to help her. At least he can take my final report, if it comes to that.

  * * *

  “And there's nothing we can do to help her?” asked Sean, looking at Mgonda.

  “No, your Majesty. She will have relief in less than fifty minutes. But she will have to live or die from her own resources until then. And I must say, Captain Merkle has fought her force brilliantly.”

  Yes, thought Sean, seeing promotion in the woman's future, if she survived. He was tempted to order her through a wormhole, but with her in hyper and the differences in velocities that was asking for trouble. But if she made it through she would most likely get a commodore's star and command of a carrier battle group.

  “Will her plan work?” asked Sean, knowing the answer as soon as he asked.

  “Nothing is guaranteed, your Majesty. Does she have a chance? Yes, but I really can't say how good it is.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” said Sean, grimacing. “And I assume everything else is going well?”

  “As well as can be expected, your Majesty. We have taken all of the objectives. Our only setback was the loss of nineteen carriers, so far.”

  That had been a hard loss. Not so much the ships, though that was bad enough. The loss of the fighters was worse, along with their trained crews. He glanced over at the image of a ship floating on a holo to his side and smiled. That would be a shock to the Cacas, and he couldn't wait to deploy them.

  “Keep me up to date, Admiral.” He dismissed the holo and turned to other busi
ness. There was always something, and if not for the people he had designated tasks to he would have been overwhelmed. Still, the buck stopped with him, and he needed to sign off on everything. Like this new proposal, which might or might not amount to anything.

  * * *

  Mrastaran brooded as he looked at the regional plot. Four of the five ambushes had gone perfectly, all the outer system targets destroyed, some damage done to the ships moving in. And everything had gotten away. So, four admirals had proven their worth, and would be given larger forces in the future, while others rotated into command of the ambush fleets.

  But the best of them was still out of contact, and the Emperor was afraid he wasn't coming back. The problem with blooding commanders. You had to give them something to stretch their command skills to the limits, to test their potential. But that entailed a risk that they wouldn't return to make use of what they learned.

  No help for it, he thought, grimacing. He still had four proven commanders to promote, and two major fleets forming waiting for their assignment. The Emperor already had the fleet commanders picked, but he needed battle force commanders who could think and take independent action.

  “Get me the CNO,” said the Emperor, initiating the conversation.

  “Supreme Lord,” answered the male, bowing forward in the holo.

  “The enemy is almost in position,” said Mrastaran, smiling. “Send out the orders. The two ready fleets are to start moving. But they are not to initiate action until I give the order.”

  “Understood.”

  Thing were proceeding according to his plan. Now it remained to be seen whether it would be enough to set them up for the next act.

  * * *

  “They're up to point three one light, ma'am. Range, sixty-four light seconds.”

  They were almost in the established effective range for beam weapons, though they would still fall off more quickly in hyper.