“You realize that moving into that position will put us at extreme risk.”
“Better us than those stations,” said Len, watching as the captain nodded.
There were from thousands to tens of thousands of personnel on each of those stations, and he would be sitting a seat in hell before he let that happen. Annastacia boosted toward the position, letting off waved of counters as her lasers ranged out to maximum range. Pod were ejecting from the stations, people getting off and down to the planet. If a couple of missiles struck that surface that might not have been an escape for them.
Len sat on the edge of his command chair, watching the incoming icons. Hundreds of them, then more. Over a thousand. Followed by hundreds of the new fast attack craft. The admiral was sure these were suicide attackers. They had no intention of coming out of this alive, and a prime target was ahead of them. With only the one battleship and a score of destroyers to stop them.
* * *
Kleshnik watched the viewer as they drew closer to the planet with its priority targets. There was a battle ship moving into position to intercept his weapons. One of their big bastards, larger than even the enormous vessels of his own people. If he could take that out? It wasn't the priority, but if it intersected a missile by accident he would shed no tears.
We're going to do it, he thought, his eyes focused on the battleship and the large station directly behind it.
The one shortcoming of this plan was now becoming apparent. They had left their under surface hangers with almost zero velocity, and though they had a high acceleration rate, they hadn't been boosting long enough to gain much momentum. The same with the missiles they fired. They were slow moving objects in the equations of modern battle. Their warheads could still kill most of their targets, but they were easy kills on the way in, and hundreds were dropping off the plot as he watched.
The ships further out had advantages his local force didn't. They had time to accelerate to targets, as did their missiles. It would take some time for them to strike as well, time the human crews to use to evacuate their vessels or platforms. That was fine. The ships and what they carried was what was important.
An orbital platform flared with plasma, then broke apart. His crew cheered, though he still sat pensively, knowing that they hadn't accomplished their part of the mission. Counter missiles were starting to loop in from other enemy warships moving toward them, while their lasers were sweeping his missiles from space. And then a missile hit the battleship, and the bright flash obscured it from sight. Destroyed?
* * *
Annastacia Romanov shook from the shock of a gigaton warhead strike. Len's gauntleted hands grabbed the arms of his chair as he cursed. The ship rumbled from the hit, lights flickered, and the admiral wondered is he needed to head to a life pod.
“We took a hit amidship, sir,” called out the flag tactical officer. “Estimated one gigaton warhead. Damage all over that region, but the ship is still fighting.”
Len nodded. Nothing more than he expected. Heavy ships should be able to shrug off a ship killer or two, as long as they didn't carry sufficient kinetic energy to shatter them. What worried him was the degradation of combat capability. His ship needed to keep taking out missiles and fast attack craft, lest the disaster grow larger. Missiles continued to fall off the plot, until few remained, and then none. Until only a few score fast attack craft remained, boring in on their last ride.
* * *
The Ca'cadasan admiral stared at the viewer. The battleship was streaming atmosphere from hull and armor. Large sections had a scorched appearance. But with few exceptions its weapons were still firing. All of his missiles were blotted out of space, the weapons of that battleship joined by those of a dozen capital ships and scores of smaller ships still boosting in. His fast attack craft had been falling off at an alarming rate, until only his ship and one other remained.
“Aim for the battleship. Try to hit her where the missile struck.”
Not that it would do much good against the kind of armor, not with the pitiful velocity he was carrying. He checked his system plot for an instant, a smile of satisfaction crossing his face. They had done much to the enemy across this system. Not the best case, but surely not the worst.
“It was an honor commanding all of you,” said the admiral as the contact alarms went off. Just before he, the crew, the entire ship, turned to plasma under the attentions of a battleship laser ring.
* * *
“It all my fault, your Majesty,” moaned Lenkowski, his image in a holo hanging in the air. “If I had taken a closer look at the system, all of those men and women would still be alive.” The admiral was on the move aboard his ship, touring the damage, the com holo moving ahead of him.
Sean was silent for a moment, looking over the casualty figures from Lroth. They were calling it the Battle of Lroth, but the emperor thought the Bushwhacking at Lroth would have been a better name. They caught us completely off guard, thought the Emperor. Weapons powered down, crews taking care of housekeeping duties. He glanced up at the holo, the background of which was a battle damaged corridor, open to space. Battle-suited figures moved in the far background, making repairs, the flare of torches casting dark shadows.
“It was my fault, your Majesty,” said Ekaterina Segiov, her image sitting in one of the conference room chairs. “We should have seen it coming.”
“Let me ask you something, Len? Knowing now where they were hiding, was there anything else you could have done to ferret them out?”
“I, don't know. Maybe setting off seismic charges on all of the large asteroids and using sensors to detect hollows. But...”
“Something that we have never bothered with,” said Sean, holding in his anger as he looked over the figures again.
They had lost hundreds of logistics ships, including eighteen antimatter tankers and thirteen missile colliers. A couple of liners were among those ships, carrying civilian contractors. A hospital ship. A wormhole gate. Every single antimatter sat in the system, as well as over ninety percent of the asteroid mines. And two of the orbital structures hanging in space around the planet. Neither of those had been very large, though one had been a habitat with thousands on board.
An enormous loss of materials. Even worse, tens of thousands of people, military and civilian, lost. And the ship named after his mother heavily damaged. Those damned bastards, he thought, clenching his fists. A suicide attack by fanatical aliens.
He recalled the tapes he had reviewed of the battle. Len had acted quickly, and had saved important facilities over the planet.
“I am so sorry that the intelligence apparatus failed you, your Majesty,” said Sergiov, jockeying for her position in the blame game, trying to take her share of the guilt. “You will have my resignation in the morning.”
“And mine, your Majesty,” chimed in Len.
“We don't have time to spend laying blame and trying to find a scapegoat,” roared Sean at the top of his lungs. He stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed himself down.
“If anyone is to blame, it's me,” he said in a soft voice. “I am responsible for approving all of our security measures.”
“Your..”
“No, Kat. Without our pipeline into the Caca High Command, there was no way you could have seen this coming. And Len. You had good reason to have lowered your guard. The last Caca was seen in that system ten days ago. We all know they aren't the most patient of sentients, and I, for one, hadn't expected them to lay low for so long.
“As far as resignations go, neither of you are to do such a thing. If you dare, I not only won't take you resignation, I will bust you down a rank and let you serve some time in the brig. I need you. Both of you. So you will do your jobs to the best of your abilities, and take precautions in the future that this will not happen again.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” both admirals said in unison like recalcitrant children.
“From now on we will do a more thorough search of every system we intend to set
up as a base. I know it will take time, and give the Cacas the same. But I will not see my people slaughtered by such an attack again.”
He should have known something like this was coming. His fleet, mostly the silent service of the stealth/attack ships, had done the same to the Cacas many times in the past. The big aliens were not the brightest aliens in the Galaxy, but they did have some with native intelligence. And even someone with an average IQ could come up with good ideas.
“I have already ordered more patrols in systems we have taken from the Cacas,” said Len. “And pickets to hang out near our shipping concentrations.”
“Good. I'll make sure Mgonda does the same. And as for you, Kat.”
The image of the woman looked up at him with widening eyes, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“I understand that you lost your pipeline into their command when the Maurids revolted. Not your fault. However, I want you to develop every asset you can find, on any of the planets we have taken.”
“I don't have the people for that, your Majesty. I'm already stretched too thin.”
“Then mobilize the Maurids. Get every one of those sly bastards on the job. Drop a couple of thousand of them on every planet we've taken. Hell, most of those planets already have large contingents of Maurids. I understand that they make fantastic intelligence agents.”
Thinking of those wolf life aliens, Sean could imagine nothing more intimidating this side of a Phlistaran. Better yet, they were quick thinkers, intelligent, diplomatic when need be.
“I should have thought of that,” said Sergiov, her voice dipping back into whining self recrimination.
“None of that, Kat. You didn't see it coming? Well neither did the rest of us. And you're still in shock. Not the best state to think well.”
“You seem to be doing okay.”
“I'm in shock, but I've been through enough that I can deal with it much faster.” Sean also wondered if his improved genetics had something to do with it. Back when the entire human species had been improved, made to be smarter, more resilient, stronger and faster, his line had been altered beyond that of the general population. His IQ was at the top of the bell curve, though sometimes he still made decisions that made him doubt that. Some of the augmented operatives of the Empire, Secret Service, Rangers and Naval Commandos, were slightly better physically, but only a few people, such as Chan, approached his intellect.
I'll get right on it your Majesty. And, thanks.”
The image flickered and faded from view, leaving the Emperor alone with his thoughts. He immediately pulled up the map of their region of the galaxy, studying the dispositions on both fronts.
On his front he still had nineteen hundred light years to go to the Caca capital, after pushing over two thousand light years into their Empire. The Klavarta still had three thousand to go, and he doubted if they would make too much more progress in the near future.
His eyes landed on that Empire, and focused on the region where Bednarczyk was fighting for her life. Depending on the outcome of that fight, he might soon be facing the entire Caca fleet on his front. Still, if things went his way, he should at the Caca capital in two years, three on the outside. Except there was more to that Empire than the thousand light year wide corridors he was forging.
There was an enormous amount of territory out to the sides, above and below. Twenty times more than they had already occupied, and his forces were spread too thin as it was. It reminded him of Russia, and then the Soviet Union, on old Earth. They had traded territory for time, and had eventually won two wars using that tactic. Doing a quick estimation, he believed it would take decades to complete to conquest. He doubted the Cacas would fold like the Fenri. Taking their capital and their major industrial systems would hurt their efforts. Enough? They could spend decades raiding into the space he controlled, and he would be forced to react.
This type of war was not what he wanted. He couldn't think of any human ruler through history that would have wanted this. He wanted it over and done with. His Empire needed a break, time to reorganize and use the Donut for peaceful purposes. Unfortunately, he was in the grapple, and whining and complaining about it would do no good.
I need to meet with Chan and her brain trust, he thought. He normally felt much better after looking over the fruits of their research. It gave him hope that he might be able to finish this thing in a reasonable time, with minimal losses. But then, days to weeks after those meetings, reality intruded and slapped him in the face.
Chapter Eighteen
The senses deceive from time to time, and it is prudent never to trust wholly those who have deceived us even once. Rene Descartes
“That was the last of their separated launches, ma'am,” said Janssen, looking out of the holo.
Which means that we have the first of their massive launches coming at us. Or should I say, the first of their new set of massive launches.
The plot was showing what they knew about the enemy fleet. They knew there were still a lot of them, over a hundred thousand vessels, in a defensive formation around their remaining wormholes. It was estimated that the Cacas still had four of them. Possibly five. With the launch system the Imperials were using three would be a nuisance. With the mass launches the Cacas were using it could be overwhelming.
There was a constant train of warp fighters heading for the enemy, releasing their missiles, then running back to the support ships. The enemy had gotten lucky and knocked out some of the fighters. The fighters had had enough luck to get their missiles through the mass of ships separating them from the gates, getting one more. Since then they had tightened their defensive formation around their precious portals. The only way she could think of to attack the gates now was from the front, a very narrow front, into the teeth of missile storms. Most probably a recipe for disaster.
Three hundred thousand of her own weapons were heading toward the Cacas, boosting, tracked by her, and she assumed the Cacas, as they accelerated. She doubted they would do much. Maybe take out many Caca missiles as they passed in space, but not enough. Never enough.
And finally, she had fast attack craft moving in from both flanks. Also seen, and fired upon. The enemy missiles hadn't reached them yet, but she expected the losses to be heavy when they did. Still, they were another distraction, and she could always hope that their missiles would do some damage to the enemy fleet.
Her semi-hidden ships were still taking the Cacas under fire with wormhole launches. Again they were hurting the Cacas, taking out a couple of dozen ships with each launch. She calculated that if they could keep up that rate of fire, the Cacas would be destroyed in a couple of years.
She needed something to change, drastically, or this fight was as good as over.
* * *
“I really don't like the idea of you sending my ships to the other front, your Majesty,” growled Duke Taelis Mgonda, looking at his monarch on the holo.
“Last I heard, those ships belonged to the Empire. You were just given permission to play with them.”
“You know what I mean, your Majesty.” From the way the duke cut off his words mid-sentence, it was obvious he wanted to say something else.
“Given the information we have on the Cacas, Duke Taelis, what is the earliest you can move?”
“A week? Two?”
“And meantime I have an allied fleet in risk of total destruction over on the New Earth front.”
“And you believe that a few thousand more ships can make a difference against the juggernaut the Cacas have assembled in that system,” said a scoffing Mgonda. He knew he needed to be more diplomatic here, but was tired of holding back his words. Plus, he had determined that Sean respected honesty, as long as it didn't cross the line into disrespect.
“By themselves, no. Along with some of the other things we are about to pull, maybe.”
“I hope you know what you're doing.”
“Frankly, I hope so too.”
Mgonda's biggest worry was that a strong element o
f his fleet might be wiped out in a battle that was already lost. Of course, Sean was correct. The ships were the property of the Empire, and therefore his as custodian of the Fleet. Mgonda was fortunate to have them in his force.
“How goes the search?”
“We have yet to find anything, your Majesty. But we'll keep up the search.”
Mgonda still wasn't sure about that order. He had thousands of ship, mostly destroyers, scanning every rock in a half dozen systems. The capital ships had better sensors, but he wasn't willing to put those ships at risk to an ambush by mines and smaller vessels. Destroyers were made for this task. Hard on the crews, but better to lose three hundred than three to four thousand.
“I have no intention of getting bit on the ass,” continued the duke, leaving unsaid the fact that it had happened to his friend and rival. “I...”
“We are under attack,” came the voice of a panicked com officer over the fleet net. “Thousands of them.”
Mgonda pulled up a holo from that system, one sitting fifty-three light years to the flank of his present position. A system that was rich in resources, and one the Empire planned to put to good use. With a thought he sent the take to the Emperor.
“Another one,” said Sean, his voice a growl.
“We're on it, your Majesty. I have only destroyers and light cruisers in that system. All of the capital ships of that force are sitting out beyond the hyper barrier. Ready to provide fire support.”
Unfortunately, that support was hours away from the ships being hit at the moment. Fortunately, the crew on the scouts had been at battle stations, all crew in armor and ready to fight.
“We have a strong screen around all of our logistics trains in all of our kick off systems,” said Mgonda. “I really don't see how this will slow down our offensive. If you leave those ships with me, I'll take another couple of hundred light year of depth from them in a single bite.”
“Len was hit hard, Duke Taelis,” said Sondra McCullom, her own face appearing in a floating holo. “We have determined that he needs extensive replacements for his logistics train.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 16: The Shield. Page 21