Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm

by Doug Dandridge

  “What do you have?” said the Admiral, putting a hand on the Com Officer’s shoulder.

  “Commodore Basingee is reporting a lot of traffic in the outlying hyper dimensions,” said the officer. “Lots of big ships, heading this way in hyper.”

  And Bassingee is about fifteen minutes from orbit, only a couple of light seconds. Montgomery looked at the central holo that was showing a plot of the system, willing it through her implant to focus in on the planet. So he’s coming in from the other side of the planet, and we’re on the sun side, moving away. So the gravity field is causing some dampening of the gravity waves from hyper.

  “What does he have?”

  “He’s reporting at least ten of the big battleships, a dozen of their supercruisers, and twenty of their scouts,” said the officer, her brow furrowed in concentration, or worry.

  “Dammit,” said the Admiral, slamming her fist into a palm. It was a lot more than she expected to come visiting what had to be an out of the way system. And a lot sooner. And it was definitely more than she could fight.

  “We’re picking them up now,” said the Sensor Officer. “Galahad’s chief agrees with the assessment of Basingee’s chief.”

  “Order all the shuttles up from the planet, now,” she said, then went back to the holo to stare into it. “Get the last of those people aboard the ships as soon as possible. ETA on their entering the system.”

  “If they stairstep down like their pattern, they’ll be here in about eight hours,” said the Sensory Officer.

  And they can only maintain a point three light velocity all the way through the steps. Unless they do an accel-decel profile the whole way.

  “Chief,” said the Admiral, linking into the com system to the Sensor Chief, who was the best in the task force. “What’s their profile so far?”

  “They’re coming in on a standard decel, ma’am. They should reach point three light just before they get to the VII-VI barrier.”

  The Admiral looked back at her Com Officer. “I want every ship ready to boost within the hour.”

  “Course, ma’am?”

  “Straight for the star. I want us to do a close approach slingshot around it. Maybe those bastards won’t be able to see us against the star, and they sure won’t be able to when we’re on the other side.”

  “What about the grabber emissions, ma’am?” asked the force Navigator. “They’ll pick them up if we’re pulling high accel, especially in our numbers.”

  “We cut accel as soon as we think they’re coming out of hyper,” said the Admiral, looking back at the plot, which now showed the system as a small globe, and the icons of the enemy vessels light weeks out. “Then we use a stealth profile to move around the sun, and coast out of the system on the other side.”

  “They could come after us when we jump to hyper,” said the Navigator.

  “They could, but I don’t think they will. And if they do we should be able to move out of their detection range before they build enough velocity to catch us. I plan to go in normal to the VII barrier, then high tail it at maximum accel back to Conundrum. If they catch us they do, but I think we can throw some curves in there to keep them off long enough.”

  The flag bridge crew all stared at her, and she could tell that they were thinking over the plan. From expressions some were not liking it. Others really didn’t think anything would get them out of this. So she knew she had to get them going.

  “Let’s move, people. Now. I want all passengers aboard and us ready to go in one hour. So everyone move like you have a pair.”

  The crew turned back to their stations, the com people to transmit orders to other ships and the ground. The Navigator and Tactical Officer to run simulations to see if the plan would work, and what might need to be modified to improve their odds.

  “The Emperor is on his way back up,” said one of the Com Techs. “Do you want me to inform him of the situation?”

  “No,” said the Admiral. “Let’s get him back on board, before he makes some asinine decision to go back to the surface and help the civilians aboard. He’s the reason we’re here, and I intend to get him back to base if I have to sit on him, by the Goddess.”

  * * *

  “Colonel,” said Sergeant Major Terry Zacharius, looking into the tent. The Chief NCO of the small regiment was still in his battle armor, as were most of the soldiers, this still being a combat zone, even if well to the rear. “There’s a man here who asked to talk to the Commanding Officer of the Army on the planet.”

  Samuel Baggett looked up from the desk he sat behind, composing letters to family members on his flat comp. Always a hard task, not made easier by the sheer number of letters he needed to write. And I really don’t need an interruption by some damned civilian at a time like this. He looked up at his NCO and raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s an ex-Ranger, sir,” said the Sergeant Major. “He looks kind of familiar, though I can’t place the name. And he has a young man with a baby along with him.”

  What the Hell, thought the Colonel, turning off the screen of his comp. “Send him in, Sergeant Major.”

  The Sergeant Major started to turn away, then looked back at the Colonel. “Oh, and the man said his name was Preacher.”

  Damn, thought the Colonel, his eyes following the Sergeant Major from the room. Could it really be him? The Empire was a large place, and the Imperial Army a very large organization. But he could think of only one man who went by the nickname Preacher, at least someone who made that a nom de guerre. Well, I’ll know in a minute, thought the officer, recalling his time in the Academy when that very officer was one of his instructors, in the not so gentle subject of asymmetrical warfare.

  The man who came into the office through the flap looked much different than the man he remembered, though he could see the resemblance. But augmentation causes a person to age more rapidly than normal. That was one reason Baggett had not accepted a position in special ops, as he wanted a good long retirement when he made it out of the Army, if that was to ever happen. And he loved the regular forces too much.

  “When I heard your name I thought it might be you,” said the man in a gravelly voice. “But it was hard to imagine that snot nosed kid being a regimental commander. Been rising up the ranks a little fast, eh Baggett?”

  The young man standing slightly behind the ex-Ranger looked lean and fit, with the eyes of someone who wanted to kill, and had done so in the recent past. The baby in the carrier on his chest looked very young, a newborn, and the Colonel knew that there was a story there that would take up an entire evening.

  “Fortunes of a transfer and reorganization,” said Baggett, rising and resisting the impulse to salute, then offering his hand. “You’re looking good, Colonel.”

  “Bullshit,” said Colonel Walther Jodel, the man known as Preacher, grasping Baggett’s hand in a firm grip. “You know I look like Hell. But I still feel fit enough to kill the enemies of the Empire. And it looks like we’re up to our asses in enemies this time around.”

  “How did you get out here?” asked Baggett, gesturing to some seats, then taking his own. “Last I heard you had just retired, and I would have thought you would have become a consultant for the military.”

  “You mean everyone was wondering why I didn’t accept promotion to general,” said the man with a laugh. An NCO brought in a tray of beers, and all of the men took one.

  “There was that,” said Baggett, after he had taken a swig of his beer. “Someone said you had found religion.”

  “That I had,” said Preacher with a laugh. “I really found God, and decided it was my calling to help his children.”

  “And now?”

  “And now it’s time to help God’s children in another manner,” said Preacher, his face growing serious. “By killing the motherfuckers who threaten our own existence.”

  “I’m sure that brigadier’s star is still waiting,” said Baggett, nodding. “Unless you plan to stay here and fight alongside the Freeholders.”


  “Not me,” said Preacher, shaking his head. “I’m not into suicide missions.”

  Baggett laughed, remembering that the man had made his reputation on just that, taking on missions that no one else would and completing them. His penetration of that Lasharan planet, and killing the leaders at long range, was a masterpiece taught at all the Army Academies, and to the Marines as well. Got him his promotion to major.

  “I think I am going to take that Brigadier’s star though, just so one of my ex-students doesn’t end up outranking me.”

  “They’re not going to give me a star,” said the Colonel with a laugh. “I’m only a brevet Colonel, as it is. My permanent rank is Light Colonel.”

  “Wake up, boy,” said Preacher, pointing his beer bottle at Baggett. “You’re the surviving senior officer of this defense, and from what I heard you did a masterful job. They’re going to be promoting people right and left, and the Emperor here is going to be pushing some of those promotions through. I see you being a two or three star in a couple of years, whether you want the position of not. They’re not going to let people turn promotion down in the middle of a war, not like this thing is looking to be.”

  A Lt. General, thought Baggett, finishing off his beer. If I survive, which is not a given. But maybe command of a heavy corps, kicking these bastards off the planets they’ve taken.

  “And I wanted to talk to you about this young man here,” said the Preacher, pointing at the boy with his beer bottle. “Cornelius Walborski. The bastards killed his wife a day after she gave birth to his son. So he has a special hate for the Cacas.”

  “I want to kill the bastards,” said the young man in a voice that had aspects of anger and flat affect in it. “As many as I can, as efficiently as possible.”

  “He’s a proven commodity in that jungle out there,” said Preacher with a cold smile. “He’s killed over a score of them out there with only militia armor and weapons, then no armor at all.”

  “It was twenty, Preacher,” said the young man in a flat voice. “At least that’s what the Freeholders said.”

  Baggett looked at the young man with new respect. Took out twenty of their soldiers with the crappy stuff we gave the militia. Amazing. “And you want me to?”

  “Put in a good word for him,” said Preacher. “Cosign on a statement of recommendation for the Academy. You know they’re going to need officers like never before, and I think this young man will be a fine small unit commander.”

  “You know that excelling in combat doesn’t make one a leader,” said Baggett, looking at the young man, Walborski, who was gently shaking his baby while looking at the Colonel with those cold eyes.

  “He’ll make a fine leader,” said Preacher, tossing the beer bottle at a trash receptacle across the chamber. “I consider myself a good judge of character, and I judge him to be so.”

  “OK,” said Baggett, getting up from his seat and reaching a hand to Walborski, which the young man took in a firm grip. “Welcome to the Imperial Army. Have you thought about what area you would like to train in?”

  “I want to be a Ranger, sir,” said the young man, looking over at Preacher. “Like him.”

  Of course, thought the Colonel, looking at the lean hard form of Preacher. How can you be around a legend without wanting to be like him.

  “Colonel,” called out the Sergeant Major, pushing the flap up and sticking his head in the room. “The Admiral’s on the com. Priority transmission.”

  “What’s going on now?” asked Baggett.

  “It’s the Cacas, sir,” said the senior NCO. “There are ships heading toward the system. Capital ships, and a lot of them.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Insanity in individuals is something rare - but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche.

  SESTIUS SYSTEM, APRIL 3RD THROUGH 4TH, 1000.

  “Where in the Hell are you going?” yelled Jennifer at the engineers as they started packing up their equipment.

  “We have to get out of here,” said the Marine Captain in medium armor, the insignia of the engineers on his shoulder. “Admiral’s orders.”

  “But you’re almost through,” cried the woman, pointing at the dark hole in the mountain that the laser drills had opened.

  “The Cacas are coming,” said the officer, trying to use a reasoning tone. Jennifer was having nothing to do with it.

  “I want to speak to the Admiral. Right now.”

  “Very well,” said the officer. “I’ll see what I can do.” His eyes unfocused for a moment, the sign of a link. He looked back at her with his eyes again focused. “The Admiral is on your com.”

  Jennifer nodded her head and linked through the implant most Imperial citizens carried that was com, database link, and emergency beacon and locator. “Admiral,” she said as soon as she was aware of the other woman on the link. “You’ve got to give me some more time. We’ve almost got them out. Just another hour.”

  “Doctor, we have hyper signals from scores of Caca ships on approach to the system. Every minute we delay lessens the chance that we will be able to get away unscathed.”

  “Surely you can spare another hour?”

  “I’m afraid not, Doctor,” said the Admiral, and Jennifer could hear the regret in her voice. “I have a responsibility to the Emperor. This force cannot afford to fight another battle, especially against the capital ships we have detected. I must get that young man back to the sector base, so we can install him to the position of leader of human space. How can a couple of score citizens compare to his safety, when chaos will overcome the Empire if he dies?”

  She’s right, of course, thought Jennifer in the rational part of her mind. But I can’t abandon these people. Especially not when my actions have exposed them so. The Ca’cadasans will be curious about that great hole in the mountain and investigate, and then they are gone for good, dead.

  “Then I will stay with them,” said Jennifer, fighting the fear that told her to turn her backs on a few score patients and flee with everyone else. The rational part of her mind told her that she could do so much more good by leaving this planet. And her sense of duty told her she could not abandon them, no matter the cost to herself.

  “His Majesty has inquired as to when you will be coming aboard,” said the Admiral, a hint of disapproval in her voice this time. “I don’t think he’s going to like hearing about you staying behind.”

  “I am a private citizen of the Empire,” said Jennifer, wondering if she should contact the Monarch directly. “I break no laws by refusing to leave a planet of the Empire. And I have sworn no oaths of obedience, beyond paying my taxes and obeying the laws of the Empire. So if I wish to stay, that is my choice.”

  “True,” said the Admiral. “Not a choice I would make, but yours to make. But just hold on a minute.”

  The com went dead, for much less than the minute the Admiral asked for. The next voice to come through on the com surprised her.

  * * *

  “What the hell is going on?” asked Sean, as he was hurried off the shuttle as soon as it came to a stop. Lieutenant Tucker seemed to be listening to something, and his lips moved in a response. Sean had always been good at reading lips, and he could make out that the man was saying yes ma’am. Then he was through the hatch, which closed behind him with a thud. Looking through the observation port he saw his shuttle again lifting from the deck, turning, and rocketing out of the hangar, through the cold plasma field.

  “What’s going on, Lieutenant?”

  “A Ca’cadasan force is heading toward the system, your Majesty,” said the Marine officer. “A large force. Much more than we can handle. The Admiral is ordering everyone up from the surface of the planet so we can boost in one hour.”

  “I should go back to the surface,” said Sean, glaring at the man he had trusted with his safety, who had somehow tricked him.

  “The Admiral said you would think that, your Majesty,” said the officer. “Truth is,
much as you don’t want to hear it, you would be in the way.”

  Sean stared at the Marine for a moment, shocked at being told what the man had said to him point blank.

  “You can relieve me, your Majesty,” said the Marine, giving him an eye to eye look. “I wouldn’t mind going back to being a sergeant again, truth be told. And I would be failing in my duty if I let you go back down when everyone in this damned task force wants your ass up here, where we know you’ll be safe and can’t get in any trouble.”

  He’s right, thought Sean, feeling the anger he was building up drop from him in an instant. He’s fucking right. Here I’ve been walking around playing Monarch, while refusing to let the people responsible for me make sure I was safe. Instead, I played the spoiled brat and played to the crowd.

  “The man is speaking sense, your Majesty,” said Samantha, her brow set as she prepared for a battle.

  “Of course he is,” said Sean, nodding. “Now let’s get up to the flag bridge, so I can see what’s going on.”

  “She doesn’t need your interference, Sean,” whispered Samantha, leaning in close.

  “And she won’t get any,” said Sean, heading for the nearest lift with his bodyguard in tow.

  The bridge was controlled chaos that Sean entered with a few of his guards. Most had gone directly to the armory to get out of the gorilla suits they had been wearing, not needed aboard the ship. The Admiral turned as Sean came stalking into the large room in his accessorized medium armor suit, his helmet retracted.

  “So, what’s the plan, Admiral?”

  “We load the passengers up and get the hell out of here,” said Mara Montgomery, glaring at Sean. “Lieutenant Gonzalez,” yelled the Admiral, and the Assistant Navigation Officer looked over, then came running as Montgomery waved her over. “Lieutenant Gonzalez will fill you in on the plan. If you will excuse me, your Majesty. I’ve got things to do”