His mind made up, Sean got out of bed and walked over to his desk, turning on the computer with a thought. He had to tell them about the dream. It was his duty as a family member and someone within the Imperial succession. Then it would be father’s to do with as he wished. And I’m sure he’ll make the right decision, thought the Prince as he keyed in the message. But he still had the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that whatever he did here today, it was too late.
* * *
Ahmadhi-ghasta (Grand High Bishop) Mallakan of the Grand Temple of Jakarja Lashana (Church of the Gods Vengeful) stood on the bridge of the battleship Marrala’s Hope and surveyed the holo tank. Thousands of vessels showed in the tank as green arrows. There were several hundred warships among that armada, the rest being merchant vessels of one type or another. The merchant vessels were armed, with whatever could be scrounged up to outfit them. That didn’t mean they would fare too well against the real warships that might try to stop them from delivering their deadly cargo. Mallakan could only hope that those foot soldiers of the God of Destruction could land and fulfill the wishes of their grim deity.
“We are ready to translate, my Lord,” said the Captain of the battleship, his thin body bowing at the waist. His twin macro eyes were oriented toward the floor in a sign of respect, while the quad motion eyes continued to scan the room.
“I wish I could go with you, my son,” said the religious leader, feeling true regret that he was not allowed to give his life for the cause. But the Deity had communicated to him that he was too important to the cause to throw his life away as a soldier.
“You are needed here, your Holiness,” said the Captain, rising from his bow and looking the Grand High Bishop in the eyes. “We will take many of the infidels with us, do not worry.”
“I know, my son,” said the cleric, looking over the busy bridge of the ship. She’s not as advanced as the ships she may be facing, but she can at least give a good account of herself. “See that the Soldiers of God get to where they need to be. Send the souls of the unbelievers to the hells of our Lord.”
“I didn’t know they had souls,” said the Captain, his face lined with confusion.
“Oh, they have souls, and that is the truth,” said the cleric, showing his teeth in a cruel smile. “Small shriveled souls that wouldn’t know truth if it bit their heads off. But souls nonetheless, that will feel the torment of the hells of our Lord for eternity. Send them to that eternity, Captain,” he said, his voice rising, clasping the officer by his shoulders. “Send them to the cruel embrace of our Lord.”
“I will, my Lord,” said the Captain, lowering his eyes again. He looked back into the eyes of the cleric and smiled. “It is time for us to go. We have a long slow journey ahead.”
Mallakan gave a head dip of acknowledgement. It would indeed be a slow journey for these ships. They would be crossing the frontier in hyper II, a mere creep of about thirty-two times light speed, in a pseudo kind of way. It would take two months to get over the frontier in a manner that would hopefully keep the enemy from detecting them. Of course some would be caught. You couldn’t send tens of thousands of ships through hyper without some by chance getting within sensor range of a listener. But hopefully most would get through, and then jump to hyper V, the limit for most, for a speed run to their targets. While, again hopefully, the ships that were detected would bring a swarm of response, weakening the defenses of the target systems.
“The blessings of the God be with you,” he said to the Captain, moving his hand in the sign of the ritual. Mallakan then turned and limped away, his leg hurting him as usual. But pain is life, and it showed that I am still here, doing the will of my God.
* * *
Lucille Yu tapped into the intercom as soon as she saw what was going on. “Stop,” she yelled over the link to the control room, where they were just about to open another wormhole. “What in the hell are you doing.”
The man at the control panel turned around with a shocked expression on his face. “I’m opening a wormhole,” he said. “We had the energy built up, and I thought the production schedule called for producing one whenever we had the energy.”
“The Emperor is coming today, you idiot,” said Lucille, feeling bad as soon as the words left her mouth. She calmed herself down for a moment, then starting talking in slow measured speech. “The Emperor is coming today, in fact in less than three hours. And we had planned to open a wormhole while he was here. We wouldn’t be able to do that if you depleted the energy matrixes and we had to start feeding them again.”
“The production schedule said nothing about saving up for a demonstration,” said the man, his face going from angry to confused.
“It sure did,” said Lucille, checking the schedule herself, then cursing under her breath as she saw that the space that should have contained the demonstration for the Emperor was blank. What the hell, she thought, sending an override through the system to see who had authorized the change and coming up with a blank. She sent another command and put the demonstration back on the schedule. “Well, it does now. So keep your fingers off that control panel until you’re told to do so.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the tech who had almost ruined the big day. “I’ll make sure no one touches anything until the time comes.”
“You do that,” said Lucille, standing up and taking a couple of turns around her office, cutting the link with a thought. “You do that.”
Lucille swore again under her breath and walked into her private bathroom. Splashing some water on her face, she looked in the mirror and frowned at the worry lines around her eyes. Time for another facial, she thought, thinking about the procedure the well to do used to keep themselves looking young. She was one of those well to do now, so it was well within her reach. She continued to look at herself in the mirror, liking what she saw otherwise.
Lucille was a tall woman, with the blond hair and blue eyes of her mother, and only slight epicanthic folds, the gift of her father’s heritage, showing the origin of her last name. People were always surprised when they first met her, expecting a small Asian woman, then finding a blond Goddess.
I better check those wormhole production chambers, she thought, wiping the water from her face with an absorbent hand towel that sucked the moisture from her face. She walked back to her desk, pulling the view of the two production chambers that were to be used for the demonstration from the computer and displaying them on the holo.
Each production chamber was a sphere about sixty kilometers in diameter. The outer surface was a mass of grabber units that kept it anchored in space. The ends of each of the twenty-eight graviton projector units showed as circles on the surface, their microwave receiving units built into that section. Each of the twenty kilometer long by ten kilometer wide units pointed into the twenty kilometer vacuum chamber in the exact center of the sphere. When activated the units formed a temporary singularity in the center of that chamber, ripping open the fabric of space. At the same instant another rift was opened in the next closest unit, and the tunnel formed between them, a wormhole that could be used for transit from one section of space to another. Negative matter was then injected into the edges of each opening to keep it open, the amount of negative matter making the opening the desired size. And then the two openings would be moved to wherever the humans wanted them to be, and a new wormhole gate would be in place.
Someday we’ll find a better way, she thought, looking across the schematic, comparing it to the real thing, and seeing that everything seemed to be in order. Right now this works well enough, but it will be so much better when we can form them in place.
Satisfied, she shut down the holo and walked out of the office, heading toward the lift and her quarters. It wasn’t every day that a sovereign came aboard, and she had to look her best.
* * *
The cockpit of Heraklion III was not really crowded, though it could not be called spacious by any means. Centuries ago someone had decided that spaceships did not h
ave to be so cramped that crews became claustrophobic over time. Especially when missions across solar systems might take weeks, even for the non-hyper fighters. So the cockpit, which measured four meters by four meters for the crew of four, was not really cramped. And there was a small living section further back if one needed privacy.
So Ensign Mark O’Brien wondered why he felt so out of place this day on what should have been a routine protection flight. He had never felt this jittery since coming on the Imperial Protection Detail. And they were in what had to be the most protected space they could imagine. Only Imperial warships of the detail were in this sector of space. Nothing else was on the screens, and the hyper limit for the black hole was over thirty light hours away.
“You going to be OK, Ensign?” asked Lt. Commander Phoenix, the ship commander. All were in their battle armor, which would give them a few percentage points chance of surviving if something took out the ship. Helmets and gloves were racked behind the acceleration couches. No use being uncomfortable without need.
O’Brien glanced over at Warrant Officer Three Juriviscious, sitting next to him in the pilot seat, then back at Petty Officer Flounce at the sensor/com station. Both seemed to be cool and composed.
“I’ll be fine, sir,” said O’Brien to the senior officer, offering up a smile. “Maybe it’s being so close to that damned hole to hell out there.”
“Nothing to worry about, sir,” said Juriviscious with a wide smile. “We’ll be in stable orbit the whole way. Same one the station is in. As long as we don’t hit the station and spiral into the hole we’ll be OK.”
“And if we do hit the station?” asked the ensign, his eyes widening.
“Then we get to explore the other side of the event horizon,” said Flounce with a laugh. “Don’t worry sir. You won’t feel a thing when the spaghettification happens.”
“Enough of that,” said the Commander. “Let’s get ready for launch.”
Heraklion is reporting she’s ready to deploy,” said Flounce, turning to look at the Commander.
Ahead the big doors to the hanger bay were opening, and the other three ships of the flight were powering up. Juriviscious pushed the commit button and set the launch sequence in motion. It was too close in here, even with the size of the hanger, to allow human reflexes to move the ship out of the bay.
One left the hanger first, moving into the star field outside the ship and out of sight. Two followed, then Three left the deck and moved on the trail of her sisters.
“See,” said the Commander, leaning forward and putting a hand on O’Brien’s armored shoulder. “Nothing to it.”
“Yes sir,” said the ensign, starting on his weapons check and finding everything in working order.
“Proceeding to the patrol point,” said Juriviscious, punching in the commands on her board.
“Primary due on board in twenty-five minutes,” came the voice of the flight commander over the intercom speakers.
Which means all the security is in place on the station, thought O’Brien, looking over his scanner. And the only things out here are Imperial ships of the protection force. So why am I still feeling like something really bad is going to happen.
Nothing could happen at this time and place. The only armed people had been deep scanned and deep conditioned, and were guaranteed to be no threat to the Emperor or his family. So nothing could happen, could it?
Chapter 2
A great man on Earth once said that war is just an extension of diplomacy. I say nonsense. I have been involved in diplomacy all my life. Diplomacy is war, plain and simple. Only the dying may take an extended period of time.
Ambassador Sandra Alexandropolis in a speech to the Parliament.
Augustine Ogden Lee Romanov looked over at his eldest son, Dimetre, and smiled. The Crown Prince looked bored, and Augustine couldn’t blame him. Cabinet meetings were not much fun, even if they were held on the Central Station Dockyards. “Patience,” he whispered to the young man who would not see the throne for another century, unless there were unforeseen circumstances. “We’ll be out of here in an hour and on our way to the Donut.”
The younger man nodded and smiled. He’ll be a good ruler someday, thought the Emperor, looking around the table, then glancing back at his wife, Dimetre’s Princess, and Henry, occupying the spectator seats in the large chamber, along with several undersecretaries and the cabinet staff. And they look bored as hell as well, thought Augustine, shaking his head. Or at least impatient to get to the wonder of the Galaxy. I’ll try to wrap this one up fast.
“I hereby call this meeting to order,” said Augustine in his best official voice, silencing the several conversations that had been going on between ministers. “I thank you gentlemen and ladies for being able to meet at such short notice. I figured that Central Station was a perfect spot, as some of you live on New Terra.” He nodded at a couple of figures that were holographic projections of the real people. They were so clear that they seemed to be really in the room, and there was such a short transmission difference between here and both the twin planets that it really didn’t inconvenience any of the participants.
The four ministers from the Lords sat on the end of the table, clustered together. Not all the Lords were enemies of Augustine, and his friends had steered several members his way that met with his satisfaction. Lord Halbrook, the Minister of the Exchequer, was not one of them. The small man smiled, then looked over at the alien member of the Lords with unconcealed distaste. Not that the centauroid Phlistaran Minister of Security, Lord T’lisha, had much to worry about, outmassing the human by a factor of four. Halbrook also had little to fear, as the large mammalian was actually on New Terra. He was also an ally of the Emperor, as was Lord Garis, the Minister of State. And Lady Hannah had risen through the ranks of the Imperial Marines to get her second star before retiring, and was one of the best Ministers of War the Emperor had ever known.
He looked to the side of the table, where sat the three Scholars. Professor Martin was one of the most brilliant physicists the Empire had ever seen, now an organizer more than a researcher as he headed the Ministry of Science. Historian Professor Loristrates had been well published during her time at the Imperial University Capitulum, and now led the Ministry of Education. While Professor Klashpek, a large dinosauroid, headed up the Ministry of Communications.
The Emperor then nodded to the Ministers who had been nominated for their positions by the Commons. Augustine let another smile play across his face. The Ministers from the Commons were staunch allies all. Ms. Landrulis, the small humanoid Matlican Minister of Labor, was the smallest being in the room, but far from the dumbest. Mr. Klein, the Minister of Agriculture had done a fine job running one of the most underfunded Ministries in the Empire. Josh Jenkins, the Under Minister of Colonization, was also doing a wonderful job manning the Ministry, while his boss was out touring said frontier. And H’rressitor of the Gryphon species was doing a bang up job as Minister of Commerce and Industry. Clara Chung, the Minister of Justice, was the only wildcard on the Commons side that Augustine was just not sure of. He had hoped she would be on his side, but rumors told him otherwise.
“We’ll start with finance,” said the Emperor, nodding at Halbrook. “Any inroads on freeing up funds for Bolthole?”
“We have tried, your Majesty,” said the Lord in a nasal voice. “We truly have. Without raising taxes to an exorbitant level I really don’t see how anything can be done to finance that project. Especially as it is a black op.”
“But a necessary one,” said the Emperor, leaning forward to glare at the Minister that he was stuck with for the next five years. “The Empire needs that industrial base.”
“And for what, your Majesty,” said Halbrook, glaring back. “We have the most powerful fleet in this region of space. Some would say the most powerful in the Galaxy.”
“Not the Galaxy,” said the Emperor, pointing his finger at the Minister. “That honor still belongs to the Ca’cadasans. We need to build ou
r strength, or else we’ll…”
“The Ca’cas are just a nightmare used to frighten children,” said Halbrook, to the stares of the other Ministers. “We have not seen a Ca’ca ship in over two thousand years. How do you know they are even a going concern?”
Augustine stared at the Minister. He interrupted me, thought the Emperor. While not illegal, it was unheard of.
“They had been a going concern for almost three thousand years before we met them,” said Augustine, slamming his hand on the table. “Why wouldn’t they still be?”
“And why aren’t the ancients still around?” said Halbrook, pointing his finger at the Emperor. “They were more powerful than the Ca’cas, with a larger Empire from what we could see. And they disappeared. So why not our boogiemen?”
“I would like to say something here,” said Professor Loristrates, raising her hand.
“By all means,” said Augustine, happy for the interruption as he contemplated the murder of one of his Ministers.
“The ancients were not a true conquering empire,” said the woman in a quiet voice. “And they existed for over twenty thousand years.”
“Just my point,” said Halbrook, nodding at the woman. “The Ca’cas were an expanding military Empire. And they made a lot of enemies, without and within. So who’s to say that they’re even still around?”
“Because Empires like that only fail when they meet a stronger exterior opponent,” said the historian, raising her voice. “And they will not have met their match in the last two millennia, you idiot. Or at least we can’t assume they have. Some of us live in the real Universe, not the fantasy world that some Lords live in.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 Page 3