Exodus: Empires at War: Book 16: The Shield.

by Doug Dandridge

“We're picking up graviton emissions from a light minute to spinward of the planet, my Lord. Klavarta ships and our missiles. It appears that they were making a run for it and attracted the attention of our weapons.”

  “But not all of them?” asked Mrastaran, studying the plot what was now alive with graviton traces.

  “No, my Lord. Only a third of the missiles were programmed to seek other targets. The rest are set to bore straight in and take out whatever is in proximity to the planet.”

  The tactical officer looked back at the viewers and holos surrounding his station. Mrastaran sometimes wondered how anyone could sort through all that information, but tactical and sensor officers were good at it. The reason they were in their jobs.

  “Graviton spike near the planet, my Lord,” yelled out the excited officer. “Whatever they were using before, they've started it up again.”

  Could they stop a missile storm with that device? thought the great admiral. Since they had survived the nova storm, as evidenced by those ships maneuvering and being attacked by his missiles, he had no reason to doubt their ability to stop his missiles.

  At least its tied to the planet, he thought. If they had that shield around their ships and could come out after him, his force was doomed. He didn't think they could do that. And why in the hell did those Klavarta ships leave the protection of that shield?

  They had to have planned something. But from the results he was reading from the surging and cessation of graviton emissions, things weren't going as planned.

  “Our missiles heading into the planet are ceasing graviton emissions a short ways out,” said the tactical officer. “Not at random like we would expect, but all at the same distance, like they're running into a wall.”

  That graviton source, thought the great admiral, feeling a chill running up and down his spines. They have a shield that can stop matter and energy. That was still speculation on his part, but the data was there, screaming at him. If they were restricted from using it in hyper, or with small groups of ships that didn't have access to the power source, there would be a way around it.

  I wish I could see what is going on, was his next thought. In a normal fight within a system he still might not be seeing what is going on, but he could pick up the movements of the enemy by graviton emissions, and the destruction of their ships by the cessation of those emissions. In this stage of the fight the enemy was sheltering behind their shield, not moving. They would probably still pick up some faint emissions from the large number of ships using their grabbers for station keeping, but not through the massive surge of that field.

  “We have tracking on the Klavarta force, my Lord,” called out the second tactical officer. “Two thirds of the graviton emissions have disappeared. A few ships are still boosting with power, heading back to the planet. The rest are barely putting out emissions.”

  “Analysis?”

  “I would say that most of that force was either destroyed, or hammered so hard that it has been reduced to drifting hulks. And the rest, while still capable of boosting, is heavily damaged.”

  Mrastaran gave a head motion of appreciation. This was an intelligent male, among too may who weren't, and would bear watching in the future.

  The great admiral grunted as he looked at the plot. There were icons denoting the faint emissions of damaged warships limping back toward the planet. There was separation between groups of ships and that distance was growing. The planet showed as it own graviton mass, barely seen through the heavy blocking of the shield.

  Mrastaran was already thinking of ways to get around that shield. Surely a moving fleet couldn't utilize it, though he could think of some ways it might. Could they surround a fleet with it? There were too many unanswered questions here, but the admiral decided to look at all the data and see what he could come up with.

  And maybe next time I won't be fighting this infuriating female, he thought, reminding himself once again that both sexes of human were intelligent, just like most sentient species. He had wondered in the past why Ca'cadasan evolution had separated the genders to such an extent.

  But this particular female, Beata Bednarczyk, had proven exceptionally difficult. So far he had faced her twice. The first time he hadn't known what was going on for ninety percent of the battle, and when he did figure it out she as on the way out of the system and he was unable to stop her. This time, so far, she was invisible to him behind a shield of mostly unknown capabilities. And he had no idea what she was up to. Surely not just covering and hiding. That wasn't like her from what he had read in the intelligence briefings.

  If I can capture her alive, I will, thought the admiral. She wouldn't go into the ovens like so many other captives. He would treat her well, so that he might have long conversations with her.

  That's a tradition that needs to end as well, thought the admiral. They could grow enough food in protein vats, and though the meat might not be as tasty, it was barbaric to kill sentient beings to butcher for meat.

  “When are the next spreads of missiles coming through?”

  “In nine minutes, my Lord,” said the primary tactical officer.

  “Prepare to jump back into hyper after they come through and move to this point.” He looked over at the com officer. “Send my orders to the other groups.”

  He still didn't know where the humans were, except for those at the planet. He would do his best to return the favor. He could dance as long as they could.

  “The Emperor is on the com?”

  Or I could, it not for the interference of idiots.

  * * *

  “Admiral on the bridge,” called out the loud voice of a junior officer.

  Chin opened his eyes, wondering who it was, and not bothering to get to his feet since he was currently the senior officer on the ship.

  “At ease,” called out a familiar voice.

  Chin turned his head quickly as his eyes shot open.

  “I thought you wouldn't be ready for duty before tomorrow,” stammered Chin, pushing himself out of the command chair.

  “Liking command, Admiral?” asked Beata with a smile. She still looked tired, her skin pale, but her voice sounded strong.

  “You can have it back, Admiral,” said Chin giving her a good once over with his eyes. “I thought the doc said you wouldn't be ready for duty until tomorrow?”

  “She didn't want to let me go, but I've a battle to fight. And I can die just as well on the bridge as in med bay if we get blown to plasma.”

  “And how did you convince her to let you go?” asked Chin, tilting his head as he watched her fall into the chair. She didn't appear to be fully recovered, but then there were a lot of people working frantically on ship's systems who were still puking their guts out.

  “I convinced her that I would put her out an airlock if she stood in my way,” said Beata, a cold grin on her face. “I wouldn't have, of course, but my reputation as a stone cold bitch preceded me, and lent veracity to my threat.”

  Chin laughed. He had heard some of the stories of Admiral Bednarczyk. Stories that had caused him some anxiety before reporting here. Which was kind of silly since he was going into a situation he might not come back from. That was something to worry about.

  “What do we have?”

  “You didn't access the reports on the way up?” asked Chin, sure that she had.

  “Of course. But I like to hear it from the person who sat in that seat while I was absent.”

  “Well, Admiral Klanarat made a boneheaded move and got two thirds of his command shot to hell. Meanwhile, the Caca admiral keeps sending missile swarms at us, and the shield has so far stopped them.”

  “Okay. And I think you did fine, Admiral Chin. Especially the way you stood up to Klanarat. Now, I think the ships and the shield needs your attention.”

  Chin shook his head and smiled. There would be no rest for him. Looking at the small woman who had left a sick bed to assume her duty position, he couldn't really feel sorry for himself.

  “And
now,” said Beata, turning her attention to the plot. “It's about time we made the Caca bastards react to us.”

  * * *

  “Okay,” said Captain Michael Lauren, looking at the plot that showed him everything they knew about the situation in the system. “Everyone has the possible target.”

  Such as it is, he thought. They had a score of possible exit points for the enemy, based on the best targeting solutions for the planet. The Cacas might come out in any of them, or none, though the tracking through hyper was firming up some of the possibilities.

  “Everyone get there at your best speed and be prepared to hit them hard. Or to go back into warp and run to the next location.”

  The warp fighters, the new improved version, capable of twenty-three lights and carrying missiles that could reach twenty-six, were the only thing they could currently hit the Cacas with. Any normal space missiles sent their way, either ship or wormhole launched, would only pass through empty space when they reached the current positions of the Cacas. The warp fighters had the speed to rush to them and hopefully get in some hits. Maybe.

  Of course they were putting out gravitons themselves, and could be tracked, even in hyper. Still, the enemy was constrained by the hyper barrier, like a wall that kept them out of part of the battlefield. If they came out of hyper and went past the barrier, they became targets for everything the allied fleet could send their way.

  “That one,” called out Lauren, pointing to a graviton blob on the plot. It was at least ten thousand enemy ships, and they couldn't turn in time before they had to drop to normal space. Against normal weapons that wouldn't have been problem. An hour to change vectors, go back across the barrier, and they were home free. But not against the warp birds.

  “They have to come out within the next two minutes, or run into the barrier,” said the pilot. “So they're coming out.”

  “All ships in my wing. Go to that heading at maximum velocity and prepare to launch,” called out Lauren, looking over at his Klassekian com tech. He had another surprise in store for the Cacas, and he was hoping they didn't like it.

  * * *

  “What happened, Admiral?” growled the immature voice of the Emperor, his young face glaring from the holo.

  They pulled something out of their bag of tricks, you young fool, thought the admiral, pasting a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean, Supreme Lord?”

  “You know exactly what I mean, Admiral. You detonated the star, but they are still there. What? Did you wait too long?”

  “I had no way of knowing that they were going to use that device, Supreme Lord. Intelligence had no inkling of it.”

  “And how did they deploy such a powerful source of energy into that system?”

  The young Emperor had a pouting look on his face, and Mrastaran felt a chill of terror running up his spines. That was the look of a young fool about to order death.

  “We think they projected it from their great station through wormholes, Supreme Lord.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  They're humans, idiot. Anything is possible with them. “If they did it, it's possible, my Emperor.”

  “I want you to destroy their fleet. And I want you to send enough weapons through those wormholes to destroy that station once and for all. And I want you to finish that battle within forty-eight hours. Am I understood?”

  I understand that you are a fool and a madman, thought Mrastaran. He knew there was no way he would be able to get launches through the enemy wormholes. The humans wouldn't allow that to happen. They would shut them down before he got into position to make those kind of launches. But tell this idiot, who thought he was a gift of the Gods to the Galaxy, that? That was asking for death.

  “Understood, Dread Lord. But if I might make a suggestion. Trying to defeat them on a timetable will lead to needless casualties. Ships and crews you will need on the other front.”

  “I don't care. Ships out there are doing me no good here. Lose some ships, then send the rest to me. I'm counting on you, Great Admiral. Don't disappoint me.”

  The holo disappeared, the Emperor disconnecting from the holo. That there was still a transmission going out from his ship informing the Emperor of everything going on in the system was undeniable. That some male was reporting on the actions and words of the great admiral was also without a doubt.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Admiral Trostara. “Advance the timetable.”

  Mrastaran looked at the other male, wondering it he were the one making reports to the Emperor. Well, there was nothing for it. The Great Admiral was determined to win this fight, and rushing it was not going to do it.

  “We continue with my plan, Admiral. I will win this fight, and I will gift the Emperor with a large enough force to make a difference against the human empire.” Disobeying the Emperor might bring doom upon Mrastaran and his family. Obeying him would lead to disaster, and the same result for him and his people. So he would follow through with his original plan and do his duty to the Empire.

  “Admiral Lissart's force is coming out of hyper near the barrier, my Lord,” called out the tactical officer. “A large group of human warp fighters are vectoring on them.”

  They were going to sting him. That wasn't a large enough force to destroy Admiral Lissart's group. Still, he would have to talk to the lesser admiral about his lack in the art of navigation.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wise kings generally have wise counselors; and he must be a wise man himself who is capable of distinguishing one. Diogenes

  “We believe we have figured out what the Caca Admiral is up to, ma'am,” said Captain Sigurd Janssen over the com.

  Beata looked over at the face of the man tasked with analyzing the patterns of the enemy fleet. The captain was in the Combat Analysis Center, a compartment on the flagship that allowed Beata's staff to look over the maneuvers of her fleet versus the enemy while trying to infer their plan.

  “I don't think you're going to give me good news, now are you Sigurd?”

  “No, ma'am. We are looking at the points their ten groups are coming out of hyper at. And assuming each of them have a wormhole, we can expect a mass of missiles from each point within the next three hours. They are trying to bring them in on vectors that will get around the shield. And there is a very real possibility of impacts on the planet.”

  “Shit.” Beata should have expected as much. After all, they had already tried to kill the planet, so why would they suddenly care about collateral damage.

  “I believe they will jump into hyper again and move to another set of points, firing more masses.”

  “Are we sure that they have ten wormholes?” asked Beata, closing her eyes, wondering what else she was going to face. Intelligence had estimated no more than eight wormholes for the Cacas facing her. As few as six. Of course, intelligence had been wrong before, and missing the mark by a pair of wormholes was not unheard of.

  “No, ma'am. But it's better to overestimate in these circumstances than sell them short.”

  Of course Janssen was correct, though overestimating enemy resources could lead a commander to be too cautious, at a time when decisive action was needed.

  “What is your estimate on the ETA of the stream launched before they jumped back into hyper?”

  “Four hours and seventeen minutes, ma'am.”

  Beata did the math in her head, coming up with a quick estimate. The missiles coming in from the outer reaches would get to her maybe a hour or less after the launches from the cardinal points. And the enemy would be making more launches from other points that arrived even closer to that large mass. Add to that the missiles that had been launched well before the Caca's jumped into hyper, and she wouldn't really know what was about to hit her until a minute before they reach her.

  Or they would have, if she hadn't have sent all of her destroyers out to scatter sensor probes in a globe around the planet, six light minutes out. It would hopefully give her an extra five minutes.
>
  “Admiral Chin,” she said, connecting the com to the conference room where the engineer had set up his command group. “Status.”

  “The fleet is at sixty-four percent capacity across the board, ma'am.”

  “We think we are going to be hit from multiple points within the next three hours. What will we have by then?”

  The face of the engineer went pale. “Not enough. Maybe seventy percent.”

  “Try to do better,” growled Beata. Her experience with engineers was that they always overestimated the time frame on repairs. This time, this man, she didn't think that of.

  “I'll do the best I can, Admiral,” said Chin, letting out a breath. “It's my ass on the line as well.”

  Beata dismissed the com before she said something to the engineer that she might regret. So far the man had performed above expectations, and she didn't want his performance suffering from anger or resentment.

  “We have a missile swarm coming in, ma'am,” called out the flag tactical officer. “ETA, four and a half minutes.”

  “We need power within three minutes, Director Yu.”

  “The director has retired, ma'am,” said an unfamiliar voice. “She was exhausted. But I will be glad to process your request.”

  “And you are?” asked Beata, cutting off a remark about soft civilians. Yu was a civilian, and she had been through a day more stressful than most. She would be needed in the near future, and at her best.

  “I am Chief Engineer Sheffield, ma'am. I am the first shift duty officer for wormhole production. And I will be with you through the night.”

  “As will I, Admiral Bednarczyk,” said the familiar voice of the Emperor.

  “Thank you for sticking with me, your Majesty. But don't you have other duties?”

  “Which I can perform here,” said the young man, his face appearing on a holo.

  Sean looked tired, but no more than any other officer who had been through a full and stressful day. Beata reminded herself that he was a trained Fleet officer, though one with a less than stellar reputation. She really didn't care about that. He had performed well as Emperor, the man the Empire had turned to in its time of greatest need.