“Are there any more of them running around my station?”
“We really don’t know,” said Chung, frowning. “I don’t think so, or there would have been more of them involved in that suicide play. But for all we know there could be a battalion of them aboard.”
“We’re running checks on all personnel,” said the Captain. “Deep tissue samples seem to work, since the creature only changes the surface layer of epidermis. But it will take time to check everyone, and nothing to stop it from changing into someone already checked.”
“What a fucking nightmare,” said Lucille, shaking her head. “And where do they come from?”
“Sorry, Director,” said Callahan. “You are not cleared for that information.”
“Not cleared,” said Lucille, standing up and leaning over her desk. “Not cleared to know about a threat to my station.”
“You know about the threat,” said Callahan, “and what we are doing about it. That’s enough, for now.”
“I’m trying to get you clearance, Director,” said Chung. “But there are also political concerns here that are way above my pay grade. Director Sergiov has to approve the release of information at that level.”
The next day the two men were again in her office, though Chung had also been in her bed that night . Looking at him she had to admit that, though he was a good lover, who seemed to derive great pleasure from their coupling, he was also a closed mouth spy who would never blurt out what he couldn’t reveal in the heights of passion.
And then they told her where they thought the creature had come from, and she almost wished that they hadn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A man who has committed a mistake and doesn't correct it is committing another mistake. Confucius.
HYPERSPACE, ABOUT THIRTY LIGHT YEARS FROM CONUNDRUM, APRIL 14TH AND 15TH, 1000.
“Several of the ships have picked up Imperial Hyper VI destroyers, slightly ahead to the port and starboard,” said the Com Officer.
Not that they can do us a lot of good, thought the Admiral, looking at the icons appear on the plot. They might as well be in another Universe for all the good they do us now.
“Other ships are signaling destroyers to either side of the first two, as well as more cans dorsal and ventral to us.
“It’s a scout screen,” said the Tactical Officer, inputting information on his board. A hypothetical spread appeared on the plot, estimating two squadrons of destroyers in a grid pattern.
“What do you think they’re looking for?” asked the Com Officer.
“Us,” said the Admiral. “And here we are, coming right to them. I’m betting there’s a fighting force behind them. How long before we can get to jump speed?”
“Another ten hours, ma’am,” said the Navigator.
“And they’ll notice the hyper VI ships well before that, and come after us with a vengeance,” said Montgomery, shaking her head.
Montgomery sat there for a moment, thinking about her options. She turned to the Com Officer, feeling the pain of her decision and knowing there was no other way. “Get Commodore Basingee on the com. I have orders for him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Com Officer, her own expression showing that she guessed what the orders were.
The Emperor came onto the bridge ten minutes later, after what hyper capable shuttles there were had brought over most of the refugees they could carry to the ships that were slated to survive.
“Good news, your Majesty,” said the Admiral, looking up at the Emperor from where she had been sitting with her thoughts. “And some bad news as well.”
“What’s the good news?” asked the young man, who looked like he had already heard his share of bad for the day.
Well tough shit, thought the Admiral, staring into his eyes. The days don’t ask us what they can bring. “We have been spotted by Imperial warships in Hyper VI. I believe there is a larger force ahead.”
“That’s wonderful news, Admiral,” said Sean, his expression brightening. “So what’s the bad news?”
“We aren’t going to make it to that larger force without some severe action,” said Montgomery.
“Commodore Basingee is on the com, ma’am,” said the Com Officer.
The form of the other officer appeared on the holo screen by the Admiral’s chair, the Commodore looking as grim as she had ever seen him. “Admiral. Ten more minutes and we should have all the passengers off of our ships.”
“I understand, Commodore. I wish there was another way.”
“But there isn’t , and we both know it,” said the man on the other end with a grim smile.
“What are you going to do?” asked Sean, looking from the man in the holo back to Montgomery.
“I am going to send a third of my force back to slow down the enemy,” said the Admiral, her red eyes looking into those of the Emperor. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to send another third, hoping that will slow them down some more, giving us the time we need to get away.”
Sean stared at her, then looked at the man in the holo who was being tasked to go and die. The Admiral could see the pain in the young man’s eyes, and hoped this would reinforce the lessons he had already learned. That he had learned them was shown by his lack of protest. He knew what had to be done. He obviously didn’t like it, but he knew it was necessary. Not just to save his life, but the lives of all the refugees they had taken from Sestius.
There was silence on the bridge for the next ten minutes, or at least as much silence as a task force control room could have with the activity in the background.
“The last of the of the refugees are off my ships, ma’am,” said the Commodore, his flat expression coming through the feed. “We’re ready whenever they make their move.”
“May the Goddess go with you, Conridus,” said the Admiral in a quiet voice. “I wish it was me who was going into the lion’s den.”
“And you know why that can’t be, Mara,” answered the Commodore, looking out of the holo toward Sean. “Allah decides, and it is up to us to do our parts.”
“You always were a fatalistic fucker, weren’t you Commodore,” said Montgomery.
“Leaving it to God does not make one a fatalist, Admiral. Only a realist.”
“Where is the enemy?” asked Sean, looking at the plot that displayed the faint red icons that denoted probable enemy positions. And probable meant not sure.
“Right now they are out of our sensor range,” said the Admiral. “The little maneuver through the nebulae helped. But I am sure they are coming up behind us. As soon as they pick up those destroyers, they are…”
“Admiral. We have tracks on the enemy force. They are accelerating on an intercept course.”
“How long till they’re in laser range?” asked Sean, looking over at the Sensor Officer.
“Approximately two hours, my Lord,” said the officer.
“And missile range?” asked Montgomery.
“They’re already in missile range, ma’am,” replied the officer.
“We have missile launch,” called out the Sensor Officer, looking at her board
“From the enemy?”
“No, ma’am,” said the officer, confusion on her face. “They’re being fired in VI, and decelerating.”
“Smart,” said the Admiral, clenching her fist in the air. “Fucking brilliant.”
“What is?” asked Sean, and the figure of Basingee looked just as confused in the holo.
“Mgonda loaded up on Hyper VII missiles, or at least his destroyers did. They can drop them in VI and let them decel until they can jump to VII, then acel on the way to their targets. Maybe not the most efficient way to fight hyper VII warships, but at least it gives them a shot at them.”
“How effective will they be?” asked Sean, his eyes darting back and forth between the flag officers.
“No way of telling until they get to their targets,” said Basingee. “If they get to them. The power drain of jumping to VII will take some of th
eir range.”
May the Goddess grant that they are very effective, thought Mara, looking as hundreds of green vector arrows sprouted on the plot, filling in as the gravity waves reached the task force. At least slow them down for us.
* * *
On all of the destroyers of the screen missiles were being ejected into space. Hyper VII destroyer missiles, they were a little too large to fit into the missile tubes of the small warships. But they could be carried in cargo compartments that all warships had built into their outer hulls. The doors were opened and the missiles moved out under their own power, orienting, then moving onto a track that would both take them to the enemy force and slow them down enough to jump into VII. Once in VII they would accelerate toward the target. Some would reach, most. Some others, many, would not, running out of power before they closed the distance and dropping back into normal space. The enemy would have to guess which would reach, and which would not.
* * *
“We have missile launches, my Lord,” yelled the Sensor Officer, looking over at the Tactical Officer, then toward the Admiral.
“Where from?” asked the Admiral, looking at the plot where blinking red arrows were appearing, indicating probable locations.
“From all around us, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer, pointing at the red icons that indicated enemy scout ships, the symbols underneath showing that they were in VI. More symbols were appearing, until the entire screen could be made out.
Or at least as much as we can make out based on probability predictions, thought the Admiral. There could be twice as many of them. And what about that line of them leading off from the screen?
“There is a battle force somewhere back there,” said the Admiral, pointing down the line. “And we are heading right for it.”
“It is most likely in Hyper VI, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer. “Not able to hurt us.”
“And what about these missiles that are heading our way, youngling,” yelled the Admiral, pointing at the red arrows. “Do you think they just loosed them for the Hells of it.”
“We have translations, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer. “Missiles translating up into VII.”
“So our enemy is already learning,” said the Admiral, pointing a pair of right digits at the Tactical Officer. “They know that all of our ships can travel in VII, while theirs can’t, so they load up on VII missiles.”
More of the red arrows were flaring, showing that they were translating into VII, then accelerating toward the force.
“We have missiles coming in from the bow,” said the Sensory Officer.
“And those would be from the VII force we chase,” said the Admiral. “Are we within range of them?”
“Yes, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer.
“Then fire four volleys at them. Let’s see how they handle our missiles.”
The great ship shuddered slightly underfoot as she released missiles from all her tubes. This happened four times, until four waves of missiles were on their way toward the enemy they were chasing. Each wave consisted of nine hundred missiles, a total of over three thousand weapons accelerating toward the enemy force they were determined to wipe out.
* * *
“We have missile launch,” called out the Task Force Sensor Officer.
“How many?” asked the Admiral, not needing to ask from whence they had come.
“At least eight hundred,” said the Officer. “Second launch.”
“Shit,” said Montgomery, wondering how her force would make it through a saturation barrage.
“Third launch,” called out the Sensor Officer. A few moments later she called out “four. At least three thousand missiles, ma’am.”
“Com Officer,” called out Montgomery, walking to that station, her eyes locked on the plot. “Defensive plan Beta Six, to all units.”
“Yes ma’am,” said the ashen faced officer, looking at the plot for a moment, then concentrating on her board.
Should have kept Lee on this post, thought Montgomery, looking at Samantha sitting a chair next to Sean. Instead I fired her, and now she outranks me.
On the plot all of the destroyers started to drop back, reducing their deceleration until they had moved several light seconds behind the rest of the force, dropping back a bit more each second. A moment later the light cruisers began to drop back. Ten minutes into the maneuver the force had formed into a defensive shield around the Sir Galahad, the destroyers a light minute back, the light cruisers forming a second layer twenty light seconds further up, and the other four battle cruisers in tight with the one ship they were tasked to protect.
“Order the force to flush all hyper missiles they have left,” said the Admiral, looking over at the Tactical Officer. “Might as well use them as have them blow up on board the ships.”
I’ve done all I can do, thought the Admiral, studying the plot. They have the acceleration advantage in their missiles, but have to catch us, while our weapons are coming at them with a combined closing speed. So ours should arrive about the same time as theirs.
“The VI destroyer screen missiles are still translating into hyper,” called out the Tactical Officer. “Total count, fourteen hundred missiles.”
“Unfortunately they won’t come at the enemy as a group,” said Montgomery, pacing around the central holo tank. “They’ll still do service, but not like they would if they came as a saturation wave.”
“Anything else we can do, Admiral?” asked Sean, getting out of his seat and moving to stand just far enough away from the holo to allow her to pass.
“Not a thing, your Majesty,” said the Admiral. “Now it’s all in the Goddess’s hands.”
* * *
“The plot is firming up, Admiral,” said Commodore Gomez.
Mgonda nodded his head as he looked at what they knew, based on the information coming down the line of connecting vessels by grav wave. They knew the composition of Mara’s force, and he grimaced as he noted the missing vessels. The enemy force was not quite as firm, but consisted of at least ten of their superbattleships, an estimated fifteen of the supercruisers, and a score of their scouts.
We could take them if we could bring them to battle, thought the Admiral, looking at his own force on the plot. He only had the one superbattleship, but he had twenty-two squadrons of regular battleships, a full sixty-six ships, as well as over two hundred smaller vessels, cruisers and destroyers. And as soon as they see us coming they’ll turn tail in VII and get the fuck out of here. Unless I offer them bait. He looked at the plot and made his plans, then walked over to the com station. Looking down at the Com Officer he gave his orders, knowing that he risked much, but could win a great victory and save the heir at the same time if everything worked.
“Order squadrons three through six,” he said, “and all their escorts to forge ahead. All other ships are to decelerate at maximum rate.”
“Yes, sir,” said the officer, getting to work to get the commands out.
* * *
“For what we’re about to receive, we thank you,” said Mara Montgomery, watching the red arrows on the plot draw closer. They were almost up to the destroyer screen now. By the time she found out what happened there the surviving missiles would be heading their way with a closing speed of point three light. A little over three minutes after that they would be hitting the battle cruisers, if they made it through the cruisers.
The first nine hundred missiles acquired on the destroyers, twenty-three of the small vessels, almost forty weapons per ship. The destroyers were close enough to coordinate their fire, reaching out with main laser beams at the closest missiles first, then working their way through the next most dangerous. Hundreds of missiles disappeared in blasts of heat and radiation, masking the approach of the following missiles. The small warships opened up with particle beams which had useful lifetimes of less than two seconds, travelling four hundred thousand kilometers before disappearing from hyper. Still useful enough to destroy another hundred miss
iles. The following missiles plowed through the radiation. Hundreds more of these died, along with a trio of destroyers. Eight more small warships went up in blasts that quickly disappeared as their plasma translated out of hyper VII.
Two hundred and fifty missiles made it through the first screen, losing lock on the destroyers among the radiation waves, and acquiring lock on the nineteen light cruisers of the next screen. The fight here went much as it had with the destroyers, with most of the missiles destroyed at the cost of four cruisers. Twenty-seven missiles made it past the cruisers, not enough to saturate the defenses of the four battle cruisers screening Galahad, and all died before they could reach a target.
The second wave of missiles fared better, taking out nine of the eleven survivors, then eight of the cruisers, until two hundred came at the battle cruisers. One capital ship was heavily damaged, two took light wounds, and the second missile wave was gone.
“At this rate we’re not going to make it,” said the Admiral, figuring the odds in her head.
“Get out of here, Mara,” said Basingee over the com. “Full emergency power.”
“Goddess be with you, Commodore,” said the Admiral, then switched the circuit. “Captain Stafford, full military power. Get us out of here.”
“Sound the warning?” asked the Captain, a grimace on his face.
“No time. If we don’t move now we don’t make it.”
The Admiral ran to her couch and flung herself into it, just before the ship leapt forward at three hundred gees, then added five more. Across the ship people fell from their feet with the breaking of bones. Three other battle cruisers and two light cruisers came after her. Behind them the last two waves of missiles came in and obliterated the rest of the task force. Basingee’s battle cruiser survived the third wave, though heavily damaged. It self-destructed as the fourth wave reached it, killing many of the missiles that might have forged past them to chase after the Galahad.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 60