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

by Doug Dandridge

  When you're focused on your enemy, then you are ignoring your allies. Stacey Abrams

  “We have a Caca force splitting off from the main group and moving toward us in hyper. Twenty-five hundred ships, five hundred of them battleships.”

  “Are we ready to move?” asked Mara.

  “Yes, ma'am. Any changes.” From the expression on Goruptal's face, the man expected some.

  “No. Let's go with our initial movement order.”

  She would be jumping with all of her heavy cruisers and seventy percent of her lights and destroyers. Her newly arrived battleships, the logistics ships and the gates would remain here. With luck the enemy would send signals to their missiles still on the way here and vector them toward her emergence point. She wouldn't be there by the time those weapons arrived. Her force would have fought its battle and either been victorious, or not.

  “Translating, now,” called out the fleet navigation officer.

  Lights dimmed and the slight nausea of moving into a higher dimension hit. Twelve thousand ships moved through hyper, leaving almost five thousand light cruisers and destroyers behind, along with four hundred battleships and several hundred logistics vessels. More battleships were arriving, one through each of the three gates every thirty seconds. They came with orders to not put them at risk. She had scoffed at those orders. How could she use them in battle without risking them, after all.

  She wondered why the Cacas had sent such a small force after her, and if it would continue to pursue her once they saw her strength. If that was all of it she was certain that she could take it in battle.

  “More enemy ships jumping into hyper, ma'am. Five thousand ships. The first group has stopped decelerating.”

  Now they're taking me seriously, thought Mara with a tight smile. So let's see what kind of chase we can lead them on.

  “They have to have seen our other two groups by now,” she said, staring at the plot. “Why aren't they sending anything after them?”

  “I think their commander is being cautious, ma'am,” said Goruptal. “We've already tricked him once, so he's probably thinking we're trying to pull something again.”

  Just our luck to get a Caca who thinks before he acts, she thought. On the positive side, even with the larger Caca force that was sure to converge on her as soon as she left hyper, she might survive this running fight she was setting up.

  * * *

  “Admiral Montgomery is on the move, ma'am,” reported Captain Janssen through the com holo. “An estimated seventy-five hundred enemy ships are moving through hyper in two groups. I believe they will converge on her position once she is in normal space again, if they don't go after her in hyper.”

  I hope you know what you are doing, Mara, thought Beata. She had made her thoughts known to her subordinate, then trusted the other woman would formulate and execute a workable plan to frustrate the big aliens. She had always trusted Mara, and the scout force commander had never let her down. Still, it was in her nature to second guess the people under her, and it was the cause of much anxiety.

  “You think they have turned their attention back to us?” she asked.

  “Undoubtedly, ma'am. Estimating that the next big wave will arrive in two hours. And in other good news, they have to have become aware of the positions of the other two groups, but have yet to move on them.”

  Beata thought about that for a moment. The Caca commander was taking action to crush one of the groups he knew about, Mara's in fact. But he was also erring in the direction of caution, probably because he had been burned in ambush before.

  The admiral checked on the status of her ships. She still had over seven thousand effective capital ships, along with five hundred destroyers, some newly arrived. All of those ships were over eighty percent effective, and repairs were ongoing. She also had almost a thousand heavily damaged ships that might or might not be repaired in this system. And the two hundred logistics ships, busy unloading their cargo. Those captains were moving as fast as they could. The danger in that was mistakes were made when people hurried the process of unloading and deploying.

  “You have a priority com call, ma'am,” called out the ship's communications officer.

  I wonder what Sean wants now? she thought as she nodded at the image in the holo.

  “Admiral,” said the voice of Ekaterina Sergiov as her face replaced that of the com officer in the holo. “We believe that the male you are facing is on a strict timetable, issued by his child emperor. He has to defeat you, and fast, or he will have failed.”

  “Then why isn't he moving faster?” growled Beata, wondering why this was important. The enemy would keep pounding her, and if that male was relieved of command, the next would do the same. Or would they?

  “The dossier we have built on Great Admiral Mrastaran indicates that he cares for the lives of the people under him to a greater extent than most Caca leaders.”

  The poor bastard, thought Beata, instantly grasping the implications of such a being in the face of his orders. He was on a timetable, and if he didn't succeed before the time had passed, he would be facing punishment. Probably severe, for he and his family. But rushing things would get more of the people he cared about killed. What a conflicted position he was in. Beata could almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

  “That's all well and good, Admiral,” said Beata, putting her hands on her hips. “But this bastard will keep sending missiles at us no matter his timetable. The same with whomever takes command when he's recalled.”

  “It might do no good at all, Admiral Bednarczyk,” said the intelligence chief, eyes narrowing. “I just thought you would want to know more about your opponent. And take hope in the fact that he might continue to make errors.”

  “Admiral Montgomery is jumping back into normal space,” called out her tactical officer.

  “Thanks for the information, Admiral,” she told Sergiov. “But there's something about to happen that calls for my attention.”

  Sergiov terminated the transmission at her end, leaving Beata with the feeling that she had angered the other woman. Too bad. Intelligence might send tingles down your spine, but not mine.

  Beata walked back to her command chair and took a seat, getting a ring side view to the ensuing action.

  * * *

  Mara watched the enemy ships approaching on the plot. She had hoped they might come at her in two formations. That would be just like the arrogant bastards. But someone over there was thinking, and they had joined up before coming at her.

  “Wormhole launchers are ready, ma'am. All hyperdrive arrays are powered up and ready to go.”

  Once a ship powered through one of the dimensions of hyper, no matter if one or how many at once, it had a cool down period before it could translate again. Her slowest ship, and therefor her fleet, had a cool down times of just under thirty seconds. She was assuming that the Cacas had the same limitations.

  “How are we coming on the deployment of the mines?”

  “Twenty-five percent are in space and drifting into position. Should we deploy more?”

  “That should be enough. We'll save the rest for the next deployments.”

  “Estimating Caca translation in one minute, eighteen seconds.”

  So we have a little bit of a wait, thought Mara. It would be the longest of the many waits they would have. None of the others would be much longer than thirty seconds. Or much shorter.

  The admiral watched the icon of the Caca force creeping nearer like a swarm of doom. She was sure they were coming after her. Why not? She was where they could see her, and surely she hadn't had the time to set much of an ambush. What she didn't know was how close, or in what orientation, they were going to come out of hyper.

  The scout force commander was on the edge of her seat, watching, waiting. And then..

  “We have translation.”

  “All ships, orient on the target,” she shouted, too loud for her own tastes.

  All of the warships swung around, the wormhole
ships orienting their noses on the entry point, all the others turning a broadside and starting their spin.

  The noses of the Caca ships poked into normal space, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and sliding forward. Mara's fleet was also moving, fortunately away from the Cacas at point three light, her fleet's translation speed.

  The twenty-nine wormhole launchers all let off their first swarms of sixty missiles, sending seventeen hundred and forty missiles at point nine-five light into the Caca force. The other ships launched their broadside, then pivoted around to let off their stern tubes, then around to fire the off broadside. The Cacas loosed their own first volley as well.

  “Estimated enemy missile contact in fourteen seconds.”

  “All ships are to jump, now. Head for the next point.”

  Every ship oriented in the proper direction while the enemy missiles continued to close. Beams, light and particle, linked the fleets, causing damage. A trio of human and allied ships flared and died under the attentions of super-battleship laser rings. At nine seconds to contact the allied ships jumped into hyper, letting the enemy missiles slide by in normal space.

  Her force moved in hyper I, accelerating to change vector while maintaining the same general velocity. Mara wanted to be able to jump back into normal space when she thought it best, and wouldn't have time for deceleration. Her wormhole equipped ships oriented their noses back at where the enemy fleet would come from and prepared for their next shots. While behind her the trap was sprung.

  * * *

  The ground rumbled underfoot as Captain Xferd Canara looked up at the sky from the doorway of his bunker. The sky was alive with short lived streaks of light. Canara knew what they were, though he had never seen them in such a quantity. Particles smaller than grains of sand, streaking into the atmosphere at relativistic speeds. The remnants of the hundreds of thousand of missiles that had been blasted from space. Most of that debris missed the planet, fortunately. And what did hit was mostly too small to pose much of a threat to structures, though people caught in the open could suffer serious injuries.

  Canara reached up and tapped his helmet. Its tough alloy might repel a particle, or it might not. Still, he would feel it when it hit. So he was taking a risk standing out here, though the upper lip of the doorway did offer some protection. If a larger particle came through there would be no stopping it.

  “Captain,” came a voice over his com. “Do you see that village down the road from you? To the north?”

  “Just a moment sir,” replied the officer, moving out of the doorway and jogging to where he could get a look. He sucked in a breath as he saw the flames reaching for the sky from the mostly old construction village. Enough heated particles had hit to start a conflagration that was threatening to destroy the old town.

  “What do you think you should do about it, Captain?”

  We're supposed to help these people. Win their hearts and minds, thought Canara, not sure he wanted to be out in this type of storm. Helping to save their village would go a long way for establishing good will.

  “I think I should go there and help them fight the fire.”

  “I think that's a good idea, Captain. I really didn't want to make that an order, but if you feel up to it, the military and the government would be grateful.”

  And here we go, thought the officer, running around to the front of the bunker so he could rally his men. He had decided that he would leave it up to them as well. And he wondered if anyone would actually follow him.

  * * *

  Ensign Kallaris Plisias hadn't liked it the first time he had been in this system. And this time it was worse. He was now the three bird in Charlie squadron of his wing, a promotion of sorts. A promotion earned in the blood of the officers and crews who had died in those positions during the last battle.

  “Engage,” came the order over the com net, his Klassekian tech looking at him and voicing the words.

  They really didn't even need to move, since the enemy fleet was moving toward them through normal space. With a wave of his hand toward the pilot/tactical officer the ensign ordered the launch of four of their six missiles toward the enemy.

  At the same time the tens of thousands of mines fired, sending their missiles into the front of the enemy fleet from close range. The enemy was quick on the trigger, already at battle stations. Still, it had to come as a shock, and many of the missiles made it through the defenses. Flares and flashes moved across the enemy fleet, and ships tumbled through space. Scout ships burst into plasma under the attention of gigaton range warheads. Supercruisers took heavy damage and tumbled away through space. Battleships fared better, since the missiles carried less than a full measure of kinetic energy. Any damage was good damage, as far as the members of the allied fleet were concerned.

  And now we're on the receiving end, thought the ensign, cringing inside, waiting for the mass of fire that would likely sweep his wing from existence.

  There was some fire, and fifty-three fast attack craft out of the thousand sitting in space disappeared in blasts of plasma. And then the Caca fleet was gone, translated back into hyper I and on the track of the warships that had left sixteen seconds before.

  * * *

  “Exciting enough for you, sir,” called out Lt. Commander Crystal Ngursky, the exec, from her duty station in CIC.

  “I believe I will take boredom any day,” said Captain Henri Francois-Ramirez, gripping the arms of his command chair on the bridge.

  Zulu was on the port rear flank of Montgomery's force, a screening position that would put her in the way of enemy missiles heading for the big ships. He only had two ships from his original squadron, one lost, the rest with the other battle formations. And being chased by a large enemy force that would give them no quarter.

  Not that they would want quarter from the Cacas. Not when the most likely outcome of surrender was assignment to the stew pots of the big carnivores.

  I wish you were here, Gloria, he thought, He could have used the emotional support. Then again, he was glad she wasn't here. She might be facing danger on the other front, but her ship would be part of a huge force steamrolling their way into the Ca'cadasan Empire. Not safe, but not in danger of total annihilation like the force that Zulu was assigned to.

  “Picking up translation resonances from behind,” reported Lt. Sr. Marsha McTaggart, the stress palpable in her voice.

  Here we go again, thought the captain, bracing himself for the action.

  * * *

  “They jumped into hyper and are heading after us, ma'am.”

  Mara had hoped the ambush would have delayed them longer, given her another half minute or so. It seemed that the commander of that force was determined to close with her, and was ignoring the pinprick they had received.

  “Estimating seven thousand and forty ships in that force, ma'am,” said Goruptal. “We hurt them.”

  Over four hundred and fifty ships had been removed from their order of battle. Maybe not destroyed, though many would have been. But rendered unable to jump into hyper, which suited her purposes just fine.

  “Wormholes firing,” called out the tactical officer.

  “Two volleys, and then we jump back into normal space,” shouted Mara, unable to keep calm in the excitement of battle. Everything depended on her making the right moves. She knew she could win this, though she was also sure she could lose.

  “Volley one away. Enemy fleet is accelerating toward us.”

  That was a bad move on their part, though she understood the thought behind it. They wanted to close with her and destroy her. They were already in beam range, though most of the photons and particles would fall out of hyper before they reached her. They would be able to track her missiles on the way in, but at their velocity there would still be hits.

  “Battle force One Beta reports that they are ready to move.”

  “Send the order out to get them moving. All other forces are to move as well.”

  The plot came alive with new gravito
n emissions. The other two battle groups, reinforced with a couple of hundred battleships each, and the ships she had left behind. All moving into hyper and heading onto vectors that would move them to where she wanted them.

  “Second volley away. We have incoming missiles.”

  “Jump.”

  The fleet dropped back into hyper I, the enemy missiles overtaking their previous positions and sailing by. She thought the Caca commander had to be livid with fury. He saw his target, and then it disappeared. He still had fifteen seconds before he could translate down, and in the meantime she was rolling as many mines as she could, while releasing standard fighters and a couple of hundred fast attack craft that had been tractored onto the hulls of some of her heavy cruisers.

  “Enemy will be able to jump in twelve seconds. We can move back into hyper in eighteen.”

  “Damn.” The enemy would be able to fire on her for six seconds. And she would open fire with everything she had as soon as their noses poked out of hyper.

  Chapter Twenty

  One who gains strength by overcoming obstacles possesses the only strength which can overcome adversity. Albert Schweitzer

  “Enemy missile swarm inbound. Range, nine light minutes. Estimating two million weapons.”

  Double anything they had sent in so far. Beata was hoping what they prepared would be the answer to this Juggernaut. If not, she would be losing a lot of ships. Too many and the next wave would roll over her.

  “Move the bucklers back into a circle around the central position,” ordered the admiral, standing in front of the viewer, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down her face. “Leave the opening in the center.”

  She was thinking she should have done this before now, but she wanted to be ready to adjust to the individual streams that might still be coming in. Now it was obvious that they were settling on a unified launch, spread wide enough that many would come in past the edges of the shield, whether it was unified or the buckler configuration. They would boost in, trying to change their vectors to engage targets. Most wouldn't be able to, and they would go sailing on by, unable to change their vectors enough to engage. Many would come in on a prescribed path set by the bucklers inside their paths. Her ships were set to handle those. The center was guarded by several hundred ships, a force seemingly too small to stop the mass that would be coming through that opening.