“Aye, sir.”
“Tactical. I want full electromag fields to the front, full cold plasma injection. As soon as your timer says the beams have hit target. Drop fields, eject the cold plasma, and raise stealth field after the radiation front has passed.”
“They’ll know where we are if we raise cold plasma fields,” said the Tactical Officer.
“They’ll know in a moment anyway,” said Suttler, his eyes locked to the viewer. “And hopefully they will be too busy looking elsewhere to notice us for the few moments we’ll be visible.”
The Captain continued to stare at the viewer, and the two big beautiful targets it showed. What the hell am I waiting for, thought Suttler. Just go ahead and do it. Now.
“Fire,” he shouted out.
“Firing,” replied the Tactical Officer, his finger stabbing the commit. At the same moment the Helmsman put the ship in motion, a hundred gravities in reverse.
The particle beams fired first, sending antiprotons out at point nine five light. They reached their target in thirty one point five eight seconds. At one point five eight seconds after the particle beams opened fire the lasers opened up, all headed for the nearest antimatter storage pod. The same moment a torpedo left the port forward tube of the stealth attack, accelerating at ten thousand gravities toward the huge station.
The far tanker had just a little bit over a second warning that she was targeted by a particle beam. Not enough time to start raising her electromag field. And not enough time to finish raising it even if she had started. As it was the beam of antiprotons struck the storage pod with nothing to slow it down. The antiprotons exploded as soon as they touched normal matter, the high speed of their strike pushing the blast inward, through the armored exterior of the cylinder and past the magnetic containment field within. Matter touched antimatter, initiating an outward explosion that caused more matter and antimatter to strike.
The laser beams added gigajoules of heat that were really redundant in their effect, weakening the armored hull of the pod and making it easier for the antiprotons of the particle beam to blast through.
The pod went up in a brilliant flash, followed by the rest of the ship as the other pods detonated sympathetically with the first. The ship was there one instant, a ball of expanding plasma the next. The Ca’cadasan cruiser, no more than twenty kilometers from the tanker, caught the brunt of the blast. Its port side vaporized while hard radiation sleeted through the ship that was unprotected by radiation screens, killing the crew instantly. The blast effect hurled the ruined vessel away at scores of gravities, enough to kill anyone not done in by radiation, as the inertial compensators were not engaged.
The lasers and particle beams switched targets twenty-seven seconds before the attacking vessel could see the effects of its first strike. The beams were on the way before the first shot had reached its target, and the second tanker only had four seconds warning that something was going on. And during that time she was dealing with the radiation and plasma from the first tanker, which had only been a couple of hundred kilometers away. The story was much the same for tanker number two. It went up in a blast that vaporized the ship and the two close in scouts, and sent waves of heat and radiation into the station.
The station rocked from the blast, the sensor and defenses of that side put out of action. Thus they didn’t see the missile that came flying through the expanding plasma that had been ships.
* * *
The violent shudder of the station awoke Jana Gorbachev from a deep sleep. Ben was already awake and sitting up when she struggled from her reclining position. Alarms started sounding, and she shook the sleep from her mind as she wondered what had happened.
“Something’s happening,” said Ben, hitting the light switch.
What was your first clue, genius, thought Jana, glaring at the man’s back. And is that something an event I can use?
“So what do you think that was?” she asked, wishing she had a connection to the data net of the station.
“There were two antimatter tankers just outside the station,” said the man, turning himself in bed to look at her wide eyed. “Maybe one of them blew.”
“An attack,” said Jana, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice and failing.
“Don’t get your hopes up, little slave,” said Ben, his eyes narrowing. “No one would dare attack the masters here, at a position of strength.”
And I would kill you if I could, traitor, thought Jana, giving the man a cold stare.
“Come here,” yelled Ben, reaching out and grabbing her wrist.
Jana twisted her wrist out against Ben’s thumb and pulled her arm back. He reached for her again, and she batted the hand away with her superior speed and reaction time.
“Why you little whore,” yelled the man, swinging a fist toward the side of her head. She accepted it on her forearm, and brought her own right fist back, then forward, striking Ben on the nose.
Ben fell back, blood flowing from his nose as he sputtered. “You will be punished for this,” he said, reaching to touch the band on his wrist that gave him control of her collar.
Before she could stop him his finger slid across the control, and excruciating pain racked her body. She fell back with a gasp, trying to fight through the pain and get at the cause. Her muscles quivered as she tried to pull herself from the bed, but she could not raise herself against the agony.
“Now you are going to pay for hitting your betters, bitch,” yelled Ben, putting his face next to hers. “Let’s see how you like being fucked when every movement brings pain.”
Ben turned her over on her back and pulled her legs apart, then crawled up between them, placing his erect penis at her entrance.
Damned sadist, she thought through the pain. Damned filthy animal.
What happened next neither of them expected. The room resounded with a ringing bang, the wall suddenly became the floor, and both occupants of the bed were thrown, hard, against that surface. A moment after hitting the wall both of the humans were flung with force against the other surface, where they stuck, the heavy forces of acceleration pushing them into the alloy.
The pain field switched off at the same time as whatever it was hit the station. The new pain of slamming into hard surfaces took its place. It was a trade Jana would make any day. She felt dazed, the effects of the concussion she knew she had sustained.
Something hit the station, hard, she thought. Not enough to destroy the massive construct, but enough to cause a lot of damage. She smiled as she thought of all the Cacada who must have been tossed around like she had been. She pictured many of them in larger rooms, falling great distances as the orientation of surfaces changed. There had to be a large number of dead and injured aboard.
It couldn’t have been a power plant failure, or some kind of containment breach? It was a torpedo, wasn’t it? So why aren’t we being hit again?
“What happened?” asked Ben in a croak, lying next to her against the wall. The orientation changed again, and they both fell to the floor, which again was down.
“This is what happened,” yelled Gorbachev, rolling over toward Ben and bringing her fist into his throat. Ben coughed, his hands reaching for his throat. Jana struck him again before his hands could get there to shield the vital area. He choked and she struck again. She looked him in the face, seeing the fear in his eyes as he realized he couldn’t breathe. His face started turning blue. With a satisfied smile on her face she hit him again, this time rolling back then over, hitting him with a knife hand.
Ben gagged, unable to cough, his hands finally reaching his throat and clutching at the injured member.
“So dies a traitor,” said Jana, rolling over on top of Ben, straddling him with her legs and staring down into his face. His eyes implored her, and she spit in his face. Within moments the hands started to go slack and his eyes closed. Without medical attention he would be dead in a few minutes, and she intended that he not receive that care.
Those few minute
s later she was still looking into his face as his muscles went slack, and his eyes opened to stare unseeing at the ceiling. Jana’s head was still buzzing slightly from the concussion, but she could tell that the effects were going away, her internal nanites taking care of the problem. As her head started to clear she saw that she had a problem. She had just murdered one of the Admiral’s favorite pets, and now had to make it look like an accident. Which, she thought, looking over at a sturdy nightstand that had been next to the bed, should be fairly easy with the situation as it is.
Staggering to her feet, the Chief grabbed the nightstand and lifted it over her head. With careful aim she threw the nightstand into Ben, making sure that the edge struck him hard in the throat. It also struck with force into the mouth, breaking his jaw and several teeth. Satisfied, she sat down on the floor.
When the Cacada checked on them she was still sitting on the floor, crying and hugging herself. It was the perfect act, and it was thought that she was distraught from the death of her mate. For the next couple of days it was all she could do not to smile when she thought of the death of her tormentor.
* * *
The station ran day and night, but still maintained the semblance of a normal day. Great Admiral Miierrowanasa M'tinisasitow sat in his chair and looked out into space, his mind a whirl of activity that didn’t allow him to sleep.
At least one of my problems is temporarily solved, he thought, looking out on the two large antimatter tankers, and the ships that were clustered around them to refuel. Antimatter was a precious but volatile substance, and his fleet needed it to function. Fusion could supply energy, and often did, but nothing could take the place of matter-antimatter reactors to supply the power needed to ply hyperspace. He was at the end of a very long supply line, his nearest production facility six months travel time to the rear. The fleet had brought tankers, but they had been drained as soon as the force began operations in this arm, after that long voyage from home space. New tankers had finally started to arrive, and more were on the way, and he still wasn’t sure they would fulfill all his needs out here.
What we really need is to capture a production facility, thought the Great Admiral, watching the tankers as they began to rotate out of view, rotation done on the station for aesthetic reasons. Of course, the enemy will have their production facilities close to a star, so we can’t just pop out of hyper and take it. They would have plenty of time to self-destruct the facility. And even if they had them further out, they would still pick us up in hyper well before we could get close. It’s just impossible to sneak up on them.
The Great Admiral was looking at a viewer that showed the local area, and the conquests already made by his Empire. It was satisfactory in one respect. They had a strong foothold within the enemy stars. But considering the size of this Empire, the largest conquest attempted to date, it was only a sliver. And we’re still at the end of a yearlong supply line, he thought, zooming the plot out and looking at the galaxy, the stars of the Empire highlighted.
Well over a half year from any major bases in Hyper VII. Even longer from the center of the Empire. He looked at the other side of his people’s conquests and bared his teeth. An angry red blot showed there, the power they were battling at the other end of the Empire. And no small, less advanced species. In fact, the enemy seemed to be as advanced as the Ca’cadasans, and was of large, if unknown size. The first challenge to the Empire in living memory, and the reason he could not expect all the resources he wanted on this front.
The view on the holo switched automatically to a scene of a bright explosion in space, followed immediately by another. A moment later the station rocked as the plasma from those two blasts hit the outer structure. The Great Admiral grabbed the nearby table, using its secure surface to keep from falling. He looked back at the screen and saw that the light was fading, and all of the ships that had been in the area were gone.
Warning sirens started to hoot while blue lights flashed. The Admiral linked into the net and found total confusion, many nodes down, others overloaded. He pulled out and hit an intercom button on a near wall. “What in the Seven Hells is going on?” he growled into the unit, knowing that the answer would not be good.
“Both of the antimatter tankers exploded,” said the Station Commander, to the sounds of chaos in the background. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened.”
“Have you located the enemy ship yet?”
“Ship?” said the confused sounding male. “We don’t know that it’s a ship, my Lord.”
“Of course it’s a ship, you idiot,” growled the Grand Admiral, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. “You think two antimatter tankers just went and blew up by coincidence.” It can happen with one, thought the Admiral, remembering that the last occurrence was decades in the past. And it doesn’t happen very often. “Now look for that ship.”
“We have few sensors left on that side of the station, my Lord,” said the Station Commander apologetically. “We are turning the station now, but most of the grabber systems are offline.”
“Then send orders for all nearby ships to start sweeping the area. And to investigate any anomaly.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said the Commander, and the holo went blank, the other male escaping the glare of his leader.
“Idiots,” said the Grand Admiral under his breath, starting to pace the deck, back and forth. “Why have we bred such a race of idiots?”
“My Lord,” said the voice of another male over the intercom. “We found something in the databanks recorded just before the explosion.”
“Let me see,: growled the Grand Admiral, hoping that this male was at least competent.
“Yes, my Lord,” replied the male, and an image formed in the holo. There was a ripple in space, then another, then the flash of a beam weapon that illuminated the front of a diamond shaped spacecraft, and a moment later the flash of a laser and the appearance of a missile, seemingly out of nowhere. Then the craft was moving backwards, another flash of beam weapons illuminating the bow. This was followed by the obscuring formation of a cold plasma field, and then the vid went blank.
“What in the hell were they firing that missile at?” said the Admiral, scratching his head. It couldn’t have gotten to either of the ships in that time frame.”
“Collision alert,” called a voice over the intercom, and the Admiral, with a cold feeling down his spines, knew where the missile had been aimed.
The impact threw the Admiral off of his feet and into a far wall. He felt the forearms of both left arms snap, and fell to the floor in excruciating pain. The alarms hooted again, and the lights dimmed and went out for several moments, leaving the Grand Admiral to lay in his own pain on the deck. The lights came back on, and the Admiral tried to jack into the station net, only to find it completely down.
It was maybe a half hour before anyone came to look for him. By that time he was unconscious, and unable to give the orders he would have wanted to.
* * *
Sea Stag backed away at one hundred gravities, the plasma shield forming at her front. Twenty-five seconds after firing on the second target space ahead flared with a painfully brilliant explosion that would have blinded the watchers, had not the system toned it down. Four seconds later the other tanker went up, and the ships and station were all blotted from sight by the plasma cloud.
“Forty seconds to radiation stream,” shouted out the Sensor Officer.
“And nothing we can do but wait,” said the Tactical Officer.
“Correct,” said Suttler, staring at the plot that showed the projected position of the wave of neutrons, protons and other particles that were heading their way.
When the radiation reached the ship the cloud had spread according to the inverse square law, losing three quarters of it mass per distance travelled. The blast effect was therefore negligible, merely a rocking of the ship. But the radiation was off the scale on the sensors that were stuck out of the plasma field.
“Radiation
levels inside the ship are nominal,” reported the Sensory Officer.
Suttler nodded, wondering how long they would need the plasma field, which was surely giving them away through the thirty degrees of arc of the bow. He could only hope that there was no interest given to them in that time period.
Charged particles were being routed around the ship by the electromag field, while neutrons were being captured or deflected by the cold plasma. One bad effect was the cold plasma ionizing, giving off a glow that was not helpful to the concealment of the ship.
“Radiation is dropping,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Dropping. Dropping. Safe.”
At those words the Tactical Officer cut the electromag field and released the plasma barrier into space. The next command reestablished the stealth function of the electromagnetic field, and the ship again faded into the background of space on all wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation.
The space was clearing ahead, and the bridge crew cheered at what they saw. The tankers were of course gone, as were the warships. And the huge station was dark, with significant damage on the surface facing them.
“Did it get all the warships?” asked Suttler, moving the view on his own side screen.
“There she is,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Moving away at two thousand KPS. And she looks like something grabbed her and chomped down.”
The cruiser appeared on the main viewer, eliciting another round of cheering. The ship was a fast moving wreck, and if salvageable would have to be many months in a yard before she was fit.
Suttler looked over at the Com Officer. “Send out status to headquarters, along with all the data on the attack.” He pointed at the Helmsman. “Get us out of here, slow and easy. Navigator. See if you can find us a nice ice ball out here that we can hide on.” He looked back at the damaged station, the symbol of the strike they had just made. “I think we might have stirred up a hornet’s nest here, and it might be time to be thinking of ourselves.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 32