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

by Doug Dandridge

  “Well, it's not a war winning tech on its own,” said Chan petulantly.

  “Sorry I couldn't come up with the Galaxy destroying device you military types are always looking for,” growled Peterson, glaring at the image of the admiral.

  Sean winced. He wanted these two to work closely together. The sum of their contributions was greater than the parts. Peterson did have a point. The military was always looking for the better weapon. Translation: something that killed the enemy in ever greater mass lots. Civilians didn't think that way. In fact, to Peterson the greatest possible tech was one that allowed the products of the Empire to flow freely and quickly. And Imperials to flow into his pockets. Not an unreasonable way to think, when the human species was not in a war of extermination.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There will be no end to the troubles of states, or of humanity itself, till philosophers become kings in this world, or till those we now call kings and rulers really and truly become philosophers, and political power and philosophy thus come into the same hands. Plato

  The Emperor Jresstratta V paced back and forth on the dais before his throne. The guards and servants watched his movements nervously, hoping desperately to not attract his attention. The Emperor was a holy terror to his staff. Most would have gone elsewhere, sought other employment, if that were not a treasonous act. And under this ruler there was only one punishment for treason. Death, slow and painful.

  “Idiots,” screamed the Emperor, looking up at the ceiling as if he were addressing the gods above. “I am surrounded by idiots. Or traitors.” As he said the last he turned his sweeping gaze on the Ca'cadasans and aliens in the chamber. He felt a thrill run through him at their reaction, at the power he commanded.

  That's right. I'm in command here. And everyone in the empire better remember that.

  He started pacing again, looking over at the huge hologram that took up the center of the audience chamber. It seemed to stretch on forever, the illusion of the three dimensional projection. It showed the entire empire, as well as the regions of space controlled by the opponents. Unfortunately, the Ca'cadasan territory had been steadily shrinking, while that of the enemy had grown at the same rate. Every star lost was resources taken from the Empire and added to those of the enemy.

  Taken from my empire, raged the youngster, clenching his fists. My birthright.

  “Get my Supreme Admiral here, now,” he shouted, looking over at his chief servant. “Now, I said.”

  Jresstratta threw himself into his throne chair and pouted. He wanted his people on hand at all times. Forgetting that his species slept more than most, ten hours a day or more. Something was wrong with him, since he could only sleep at most six hours. And he insisted that all of his servants, from the lowest to the highest, like the supreme admiral, keep the same hours as himself.

  The emperor jumped from his seat and stormed to one of the balconies overlooking the city. The palace was still unfinished, despite more than a year having passed since the enemy attack on the capital system. Another thing to drive him into a rage. He understood that much of the rest of the city still needed repairs, and his people, the workers, needed their quarters. But this was his home, and it was a crime that he had to look around and see the unfinished areas.

  Jresstratta smiled as he looked down on the avenue running through the center of the city, leading up to the palace. And the hundreds of crosses, metal X's, that lined both sides. The bodies of Ca'cadasans and alien slaves were crucified on those structures. Beings who hadn't worked as fast as the emperor thought they should to finish his home. The Xs were actually six armed stars for the Ca'cadasan, constructed so the six limbed beings could be properly positioned.

  The bodies closest to the palace were rotting husks, having hung there for weeks. Going further out the corpses were fresher. The stink of the nearer bodies was almost unbearable, and the young Cacada reminded himself to order them pulled down and replaced with new corpses. Or the living beings who would become corpses on the cross. There would always be more, since there were always enough idiots to populate the prisons for failing to do their duty toward their emperor.

  Fifteen minutes later an anxious looking Supreme Admiral came rushing into the throne room, to find the emperor again sitting his throne and playing with a sharp dagger. The male was puffing, out of breath, his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth.

  “It's about time, Supreme Admiral,” growled the Emperor, pointing down to the floor.

  The male did as he was instructed, and fell to his knees and looked toward the floor. The male was trembling, though from fear or rage the young emperor couldn't tell. Not that it would make any difference to him. He was ruler by divine right, and his subjects were his to do with as he pleased. His toys. If he could have read the thoughts around him he might not have felt so complacent.

  “Supreme Lord,” stammered the admiral. That was never a good sign, since it indicated that the male was about to impart bad news to the being who held his life in immature hands.

  “What is it, Supreme Admiral?” Jresstratta looked down on the male like a hunting animal on prey he had downed.

  “The males of the fleet are complaining about the restrictions. Once again.”

  The emperor coughed in disbelief. These beings could do what he said, and only what he said. Drinking and whoring, or the Ca'cadasan equivalent of the second, were interfering with their work. They needed to work their hardest if the empire was to survive. Of course he needed to imbibe, and what was he to do with the harem of concubines he had inherited from his father except use them for his pleasure.

  “Tell them that I will hear of no more complaints,” he roared, stepping down from his throne to stand over the groveling admiral. “I want the complainers to be punished, severely. A thrashing for the first offense. Out the airlock for any more.”

  “But, my Lord. The morale..”

  “I would rather that they fear me,” roared the emperor, feeling the blood rush to his face in rage. “And those that don't fear me shall die, so the rest may learn their place.”

  The emperor looked back at the plot, recalling what he had called this male, the supreme commander of his fleet, in to discuss.

  “I want the hated humans stopped, no matter the cost. It is unacceptable that they take more of our sacred territory. Rally the fleet. Rally the spacers. Order them to stop the enemy at all costs. I don't want to see any more of my systems taken from me.”

  “If we lose the fleet in a series of major battles, we will have nothing left to stop them with.”

  “That is defeatist talk, Admiral. The side with the greatest conviction will be the winner. And what are you doing about this new technology the humans are using against us on the other front?”

  “The shield they are using to stop the nova, and our missiles?”

  “What tech do you think I'm talking about, you idiot?” The emperor spit on the floor, foam forming around his lips. “Of course that shield. If they have it, I want it. And no excuses.”

  “We don't even know how it works, Supreme Lord. It will take time to learn the principles behind it, and even more to duplicate it. If we can even power the thing.”

  “Then light a fire under the feet of our scientists. I realize that they are not Cacada, but they live or die at my sufferance. Remind them of that fact.”

  “But, we have already lost so many of our top scientists and engineers, Supreme Lord,” stammered the admiral.

  “How? How can they flee when we control all of the shipping in the empire?”

  The admiral didn't answer, and the emperor had suspicions that the admiral didn't know how they were fleeing, if they even were.

  “And I want you to keep a close watch on Great Admiral Mrastaran, Supreme Admiral. I feel that he is not employing his fleet to the best of his abilities. We need those ships on this front. I want him to wrap up his battle within the next twenty-four hours and start moving his fleet back here.”

  “It is going
to take him longer than that to pushed the enemy out of that system.”

  “I don't want him to push them out of the system,” roared the Emperor, his immature voice cracking. “I want the enemy fleet annihilated. Then, we can reinforce our forces facing the human empire and leave a smaller force to conquer the Klavarta. I want every one of those bastards killed. Every one of them admiral, understand. And every human on this front as well.”

  Again the admiral didn't speak, though his body shook more profusely.

  “Oh, very well. Mrastaran can take forty-eight hours. After that I want him to report to me here. I want him to explain his tardiness to me with the threat of crucifixion looming over his head. Dismissed.”

  The Supreme Admiral pushed himself to his feet, continuing to avert his eyes from the emperor, and stumbled away.

  Coward, thought the emperor. Ca'cadasan warriors were supposed to be fearless, going into battle without a thought for their own safety. It seemed that all of his males were ruled by fear. He smiled as he thought of the purge he would enact as soon as the humans were falling back on all fronts.

  * * *

  If the emperor could read the thoughts of the Supreme Admiral he would never have made it out of the throne room. There was some fear, but most of the shaking that the admiral had exhibited had been rage. The former emperor would have never have treated his admirals in such a way.

  And I had wanted the Jresstratta IV to fade away, so we could return to the old traditions, thought the admiral, feeling the total shame of having to prostrate himself before the piece of filth who had taken over the crown. But what we got in return was beyond our worst nightmares.

  Right now the war looked all but unwinnable. There were some possibilities, some ways in which something might be salvaged. But not if this young man remained in charge. He was wasting his fleet on actions that accomplished nothing except putting Cacada in the sights of the enemy. He was alienating his people, driving the alien scientists that were the one hope of catching up technologically with the humans into self imposed exile. Jrasstratta was an immature petulant child who might, someday, if he learned wisdom, become a good ruler.

  The Supreme Admiral gave a head motion of negation at that thought. This willful young thug would never learn wisdom. He would lead the Ca'cadasan people to disaster, and the eternal empire would die around him. If the humans were smart they would reward the fool for helping them to win the war. In fact, if they had a clear shot at him they would probably pass. He was more of an asset to their side than he was to his own people.

  But what can we do? thought the admiral as he walked from the palace and headed toward the admiralty building. The stink of the dead and the cries of those still holding onto life on the cross accompanied him, reminding him of the nightmare they were living.

  They needed someone of ability who could come in and take the empire in a firm hand when Jresstratta was gone. He couldn't force himself to think of killing an emperor, but thinking of him as disappearing was acceptable. But the empire would be in disarray, at a time when such couldn't be afforded.

  Jresstratta had killed most of his relatives, including several children and one infant, insuring that there would be no usurpers in the wings. Mrastaran was next in the succession, and the Supreme Admiral was sure that link would be eliminated as soon as he was called back to the capital. The admiral wasn't sure Mrastaran was the best choice for emperor. He adhered to too many new and strange ideas, and was more of the philosopher than a warrior. Still, he was intelligent, composed, and would be a thousand times better than what they had now.

  We just need to make sure that he gets back here alive. And that he is willing to take the throne.

  * * *

  “Something must be done about this young fool who sits the throne. His actions have angered the gods, and until they are appeased we can expect no victories.”

  “That is treasonous speech, High Priest,” said the Patriarch of the Church.

  “And you will turn me in for my speech, Patriarch?”

  “Of course not,” said the older male, glaring at his subordinate. “But I can't answer for other ears. You know that this, young fool, as you called him, has no fear of us.”

  After the religious revolt had been put down, the leaders all put to death, the emperor had ordered the church reformed. New leaders, people his informants had told him he could count on. Only they had also been true believers, the ones that saw the position as a calling, and such were never in agreement with what they saw as blasphemy.

  “The people are growing restless, Patriarch,” said the high priest, grimacing. “They feel that the gods have abandoned us. The reason we are being pushed back on all fronts.”

  The Patriarch gave another head motion of agreement. There was nothing in what the priest had said that he would disagree with. The majority of the Ca'cadasan people, over sixty percent, were still true believers. Another twenty percent were casual believers. They adhered to the traditions, celebrated the holy days, and really didn't pay much attention to the religion otherwise. Maybe three percent were adherents to some alien religion or other. That was frowned upon, but as long as the celebrants kept their actions out of the public eye, that was ignored. Except the new emperor took exception to Ca'cadasans gaining comfort from religions that weren't part of their culture.

  The rest of the males were what the humans called atheists. They had no religious beliefs. Some might actually practice the rites to fit in, but didn't believe in gods or the supernatural.

  Even the Patriarch, a true believer, though not as fanatical as some of his subordinates, knew there was more to the setbacks in the war than interference, or lack of, from the gods. There were growing disparities in tech, superior tactics. And he had to admit, even though his religion declared that Ca'cadasans were the superior life form in this galaxy, that the humans were simply more intelligent.

  The point of the high priest was not lost on him. The ordinary citizen, military or civilian, were angry with the way the emperor was prosecuting this war. The infractions against the laws of the gods, planets and species killed wholesale. Soon that anger would boil over. And no matter how many Ca'cadasans or aliens were crucified, they would eventually revolt. Ca'cadasans on the whole were a courageous species, and fear of death would not stop the males from rising up to try and overthrow this emperor.

  “Council your priests on maintaining the calm,” said the Patriarch, raising a pair of right hands with palms out. “I think eventually things will happen to redress the current situation. And our people will not have to sacrifice their lives needlessly.”

  “I will try,” said the priest in a hushed voice. “But trying to calm a boiling pot doesn't always get the results you want.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don't throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer. Corrie Ten Boom

  “Admiral Bednarczyk is asking for a progress report, Admiral,” said the voice coming in over his implant.

  “Tell the admiral that we are working as fast as we can,” said Chin, watching as his hands placed a strip of high temp superconductor into place. An instant later one of his hands brought up a nanite sprayer and gave the repair a dash of the microscopic robots that would bind it into place.

  Chin had left the control center, leaving his assistant in charge of monitoring the fleet wide repairs. There was too much work to be done, the fleet was on the clock, and he couldn't see not using his hands for something he was better at than most.

  The port side of the fleet had been exposed to the photon and particle storms. Most of the extra magnetic field projectors had been attached to that aspect of all the ships, though there were some all over the hull. The port sides had taken the most damage. It was an unusual damage pattern. Very few hull breeches, almost no systems totally destroyed. But enough to make systems inoperable.

  Add to that the systems that had been rerouted to make th
eir resources available, like the laser emitters that had been disconnected from their rings to feed the new electromag projectors. They no longer needed those extra projectors, whose only other other function was to shield the ship from beam weapons, something they were known to do poorly. Now, with missiles coming in, they had a much greater need for lasers, something that could knock a percentage of the incoming weapons out of space.

  “We need another load of nanites out here,” came a voice over the com.

  Chin recognized the engineer who was working on one of the graviton projectors. The devices only had a small area for quarters and workshops for the resident engineers. They were masses of solid machinery and electronics, with minimal space for people to gain access to internal systems. Those massive constructs had sustained damage as well, similar to what the ships had received. One was out of service completely. That had allowed the fleet to use its power portal to bring in more ships, useful, but a one sixth deterioration of their total coverage.

  Along with the damage to electronics and machinery, the total destruction of almost ninety percent of the nanites in the fleet had set back their repair efforts. The fleet had banks of seed nanites in heavily shielded containers. Most of those had survived. There weren't enough of those to replace the losses. So a decision had to be made. Lean in the direction of using most of what was available for immediate repairs, or use less than seventy percent of them and let the rest work their magic of replicating themselves. Given time they would replace all the nanites. If they had the time.

  “The admiral says we are about to be hit. She needs everything back online, now.”

  As if ordering it could make it happen, thought Chin. The engineer still didn't understand why line officers thought playing on the fear of destruction would make the engineers work any faster. They could only work so fast, if they were to make the repairs of the quality needed.