No, they were planning something else, and intelligence couldn't figure out what it was. They had tried launches from long range with varying effectiveness. They had tried the stealthy approach with their sneaky attack ships. They had stopped some detonations, had failed with others. But from what he had read in the reports none of the operations were really worth the death of a system.
Is any return worth the destruction of so many evolutionary lines? He could just refuse the order, tell his projection ship commanders to move away from the star, engage the humans in a standard battle. He had the weight of ships to beat her. Killing this world was not necessary. But if he did that orders would come down from the Emperor, relieving him of command. If he refused that order some subordinate would surely take his head. And nothing would be accomplished.
“It's happening, my Lord,” said Trostara, waking his commander from his daydream.
Mrastaran looked up at the viewer, just in time to see the bright flares that marked the deaths of warships. Almost all of them were gone in an instant. The one scout remained, the one that had performed its duty to the last, pulsing the message that had alerted the Great Admiral. Thirty seconds later it was also gone, a spreading cloud of plasma marking it destruction.
The half dozen stealth ships appeared, turning off their light distorting fields. Moments later they were ejecting small objects. Objects that grew over time, until they were recognizable as wormhole gates. It seemed to take a long time, but checking the clock the admiral could tell it wasn't long at all. The noses of the small human scout ships poked through, a sensible precaution of the other commander. They fanned out, covering the approaches. Then the prizes started through, starting with the largest ships in the human arsenal. Larger even than Mrastaran's battleships. Standard battleships followed through, vessel after vessel. The humans were coming through in strength. But they wouldn't have their wormholes with them, would they? He didn't see what they were accomplishing.
“How long till first missile strike?”
“Three and a half hours, my Lord.”
Too long, he thought. What if they're coming through to make a show, then popping back into their space?
There were just too many unknowns here. A consequence of the light speed barrier in normal space. Now if the human commander was conveniently pulsing him the information he would know what was going on. Otherwise?
“Any information from our source in the Klavarta Command?” Mrastaran asked his chief of staff.
“Not anything since the intelligence that they were planning an operation here,” said Trostara, showing a negative head motion.
That intelligence source had served the Ca'cadasans well. But this time the human commander had kept her plan close to her vest. All he knew was that she was coming here, and the approximate timing. Not anything regarding what exactly she was planning to do.
Mrastaran had hesitated all he could. If he didn't give the order, someone else would. Great Admiral Tonnasar would be happy to carry out that order. That male had wanted command of this fleet from the start, and with the Emperor on his side Mrastaran would be dead in an instant. There were many close the Mrastaran who would be willing to do the actual deed. Maybe even Trostara. The two males had worked together well, but the Great Admiral had no illusions as to what the other admiral would do if given the order.
“We could move closer, up to the barrier, and lessen the flight time of the next wave of missiles,” suggested the chief of staff.
“And then they would know where we are, and we still wouldn't know their location. Unless...”
“My Lord.”
“Those destroyers of theirs. The ones that jumped in the other day. They had their wormholes aboard them, and are bringing in their other ships.”
“Would they take such a risk?” asked the chief of staff.
It went against all common sense. Wormholes were carried by capital ships, giving them the best protection, ensuring that they could continue to fire through a long battle. Destroyers were fragile vessels. Even a near miss by a ship killer missile and they would be tumbling wreckage. So to put multiple wormholes on a fragile ship was madness. Or at least what any sensible commander would think.
“This one would take such a risk, if the payoff was great. No, if we move through hyper now, they will know where we are, and a hundred wormholes will be launching undetectable missiles in our path through the system. And we will be at greater risk from our own weapon. So we sit here.”
“And the projector ships?”
It has come down to this after all, thought Mrastaran, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.
“Send the order,” he said through his clenched jaw. “They are to start the process, immediately.”
He wondered if he had given the order too late. Maybe the humans had some way to protect the planet, though he couldn't think of how. He wondered if it would really be that terrible if they could. If things worked out that way, the Emperor couldn't blame him for the process not killing the planet. He would have a clear conscience. And then he could destroy the human fleet the way a Ca'cadasan warrior preferred. In honorable combat.
Chapter Six
Ancient societies had anthropomorphic gods: a huge pantheon expanding into centuries of dynastic drama; fathers and sons, martyred heroes, star-crossed lovers, the deaths of kings - stories that taught us of the danger of hubris and the primacy of humility. Tom Hiddleston
THE DONUT, SUPERSYSTEM SPACE.
Dr. Lucille Yu had to admit that she was feeling just a bit anxious with what was about to happen. Not that there was all that much risk to the Donut itself. At least not the structure of the enormous station in orbit around a thirty solar mass black hole. The Cacas had once detonated two Quarkium warheads aboard, and the station had weathered the storm. No, she was worried about what the energies they were going to generate and project might do to the trillions of tons of delicate electronics aboard the station.
The tall, petite woman was still surprised on a daily basis that she had been tapped to lead the scientific and operational aspects of the station. Still less that a hundred, she had not been alive when construction on the station had commenced. There were many older colleagues who had expected to be appointmed, but she had been jumped over all of them. When she had brought that up to the Emperor it had been pointed out that His Majesty was still considered too young to lead the Empire by many of the nobility.
Normally, at this time in her day, she would be working in her office lab, going over reports. Those were generated by the huge science and engineering staff under her supervision. She routed anything she thought might be of interest to the military to Admiral Chan, a woman she had established a good working relationship with. Chan trusted that what was sent her way would prove interesting. Not always with the current technology available, but maybe sometime in the future. Yu herself supervised the projects that might have commercial benefit, if not military, though at times those spheres overlapped.
Though the Donut had always been envisioned to have a military application, moving fleets long distances in an instant, the original focus had been commercial. The Emperor who had envisioned the project had foreseen a time when the station would be the home to the largest corporations in the Empire. Not just their headquarters, but much of their manufacturing facilities as well. That ruler had been called mad when he approved the request from a cabal of engineers to build the largest mega-structure yet envisioned. He had persisted, sinking a considerable percentage of his own fortune into the project, finally pulling in the thousands, then millions, of investors needed to fund such a large project that held no promise of payoff for a century or longer.
It had paid off, and the twenty-five million kilometer circumference ring stretched around the black hole, generating enough energy to create up to thirty wormholes a day. Those wormholes, envisioned as a way to cut down on transit costs for goods and passengers, had delivered so much more to the military, including the ability to l
aunch streams of pre-accelerated missiles traveling at high relativistic speed through ships thousand of light years distant from the platform. Extremely powerful particle beams were another result. It was still paying dividends on the commercial front, which needed all the muscle it could muster to fuel the war effort. It had been predicted that the station would pay for itself in twenty years of operation, saving time and antimatter in almost unlimited quantities. That payoff was delayed, but it was accomplishing an even more important goal, that of saving the human species.
Well, this is quite the gathering, thought the scientist who had never thought she would be working so close with the military, looking around the large conference room.
Chantoa Chan was here, as was expected, since this operation was really her baby. Along with several of her top assistants, though many more were in the main control room visible through the conference room window. A couple of scientists from Imperial University in Capitulum were seated against the wall, rounding out the civilian contingent.
The military group, discounting Chan and her people, was made up of Sondra McCullom, the Chief of Naval Operations, and a couple of her staffers, including Admiral Ekaterina Sergiov, Chief of Combined Intelligence. Also attending, though in their cases through holographic projection, were the two senior field commanders of the Fleet, Grand Fleet Admirals Gabriel Len Lenkowski and Duke Taelis Mgonda. Both men were dashing figures in their dress uniforms, though Len had the look of a college professor. While Mgonda looked like a holo star, his bright teeth contrasting with his dark complexion.
There were several ministers and Lords in attendance, including the Countess Haruko Kawasaki, the Prime Minister, and the Baron Emile von Hauser Schmidt, the majority leader in the Lords, and the staunch allies of the Emperor. The huge form of Minister of Security Lord T'lisha, a Phlistaran, loomed behind the two human lords. He was in charge of security. For this end of the operation, for the Emperor's safety, for everything. The crocodilian face shot an disapproving look at the gathering, and Yu didn't have to guess how he felt about having so many VIPs in one chamber. One hit, one disaster, and the head was chopped off the Empire.
And rounding out the assemblage, and definitely not the least among peers, was the Emperor himself, along with the man who had risen from common roots to become a duke, a general, and the best friend of the young Monarch. Yu stared at Major General the Duke Cornelius Walborski for a moment. The most decorated man in the history of the Empire, the only three time recipient of the Imperial Medal of Heroism, he was probably the most dashing figure in the room. Cold blue orbs, the eyes of a killer, stared out of his face, contrasting with the many laugh lines around eyes and mouth. Yu thought that she owed her life to that man, and the Empire owed more than it could ever repay. Without his intervention the station might have been destroyed by the Caca infiltrators who had come aboard through the wormhole link to Elysium.
“Well, the Donut has been many things in this war,” said Sean, looking over the people in the room, then glancing up at the dozen large view screens along the high wall, surrounding the one largest, a screen ten meters in width. “But today we project its vast power directly into a battle. Today, the Donut goes to war.”
There were a few cheers, some claps. Most here didn't think this was going to work. Hell, Lucille wasn't sure herself, and she caught the eye of Admiral Chan to see a slight head shake. This was all unexplored territory. They all knew what kind of energy the station could produce. That was a given. Sending it through the wormholes to do what they were proposing. Now that was something else.
The director looked at the window beneath the viewers that gave the assemblage a look at the swarm of technicians and scientists who would be running the show. Yu would have nothing to do but watch, unless disaster reared its ugly head.
“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Lord T'lisha in his rumbling voice.
“Please, my Lord,” said Sean, shaking his head. “We've been over this again and again. And my mind is made up.”
The Phlistaran huffed and crossed his arms over his deep chest while his four clawed feet clicked in the floor.
“Director Yu had assured me that nothing they do here will destroy the station,” continued Sean, flashing a smile toward the scientist. “She...”
“What I said, your Majesty,” interrupted Yu, not willing to let anyone, even the Emperor, put words in her mouth. “What we are doing with the power generation is something we already do thirty odd times a day. No problem. The station will not come apart and fall into the black hole. That part I can guarantee. What I can't guarantee is how the machinery of this station is going to respond to us sending that energy through new pathways, and projecting it through a wormhole.”
“Actually, six wormholes,” said Chan, eyes narrowing. One thing the woman was known for was being exact, and she couldn't stand ambiguity in others.
“Be that as it may, there is a chance for a rebound effect, your Majesty.”
“I think we're safe enough here,”said Len with a grin that soon turned to a frown. “I mean, you all are safe enough there. Me and Taelis are both as safe as can be.”
“And that comforts us all, my Lord,” said T'lisha in a sarcastic tone.
“And I am not a Lord,” said Len, crossing his arms over his chest and donning a defiant look. “Never wanted such, and never will.”
Lucille had never thought much about the nobility, until Sean had offered her a patent for her work on the Donut. Now she was sure that she would take it if offered. Lenkowski was well known as a man who was proud of his commoner heritage. And after all, he commanded more real power than a half dozen archdukes. Real power, in his thousands of ships. Of course, Sean could take those ships away from him at any time.
“What is your problem with nobility?” asked Baron Schmidt, raising an eyebrow. “It didn't seem to do our young general here any harm.” He aimed a look at Walborski, who ignored him completely.
Most of the Empire had no problem with the Imperial system it had embraced from the inception. There were nobles, who had large land grants, sometimes of up to a quarter of the land on the planet. Commoners still owned their own land, and the governing noble couldn't take it away from them without due process. As far as wealth went, the two richest people in the Empire were Sean and another noble, an Archduke. The next eighteen wealthiest people were all commoners. And some of the Members of the Commons had just as much, if not more, political clout than any Lord.
“We're receiving a message from Admiral Bednarczyk,” came a voice over the intercom.
“Put her on,” ordered Sean.
The face of the diminutive admiral appeared in a holo bubble over the table. The bubble made it seem that she was facing everyone in the room, though all of her attention was on the Emperor.
“We're picking up indications that they have started their projector ships, your Majesty,” said the woman in a soft voice that clashed with her fierce expression. “We're estimating they will produce a nova in one hour, twelve minutes.”
Yu studied the woman who was truly on the point of the spear. The Donut might be going to war in a fire support role, but this officer was there, on a ship that was threatened with destruction. One hour and twelve minutes, thought Yu, doing some simple math in her head. Add in ten minutes for the photon wave to reach them, followed by the particle waves in another six minutes.
The photon wave itself would blast through the armor of the lighter vessels. The capital ships might survive it, though undoubtedly some some would die, and many of the surface installations would be blotted out of existence by what amounted to a large scale laser bubble. The facing surface of the planet would be torched, all life reduced to ash, even the majority of the atmosphere blasted off into space. That would have serious repercussions for the entire planet, even that not directly exposed.
Six minutes later the particles would arrive, fast and extremely energetic. Like a massive particle beam weapon. Those particles would blast throu
gh whatever protection the ships had left. They would all die, unless they stayed behind a large body like a planet. That wave would go on for hours, until the entire ejected mass, up to two percent of the star's matter, was flying out of the system. It would continue to do damage for many light hours. Due to the inverse square law, it would be losing power, until at four light hours it would have spread to a particle density of one five-seventy-sixth of it intensity at Pleisia. Anything unprotected at that range would still die, but most standard particle shielding would be enough.
“Are your projectors ready, Admiral?” asked Chan, her face set in concentration.
“My chief engineer assures me that four or them will be complete well before that wave arrives. The other two, iffy.”
“They need to be ready,” said Chan in a lecturing voice. “If not, you need to cover only as much of the planet as you can, and you ships of course.”
“How many people will die if they don't have them all up and running?” asked Sean, eyes narrowing.
“From three to five hundred million, your Majesty,” answered Chan without an instant's hesitation.
Yu did the same math, and came up with essentially the same answer. There were other variables at play, but from any angle it was a massive killing.
“Do your best to get those two up and running, admiral,” said Sean. “Then make sure that all of your ships are placed behind the shield.”
“We might be able to use the ship fields to mitigate the effects on the area that isn't covered.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 16: The Shield. Page 7