Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.)

by Doug Dandridge

  “Launching first volley,” called out the Tactical Officer as the ship shook slightly from accelerating the missiles from their tubes. As soon as they left the tubes they were accelerating at fifteen thousand gravities, well above their sustained rate. But at this engagement range there was no need for any kind of sustained acceleration. Not with a range of fifteen thousand kilometers and closing.

  Enemy missiles came in, blotted from space in bright flashes of gigaton explosions. The Imperial missiles really did no better. The weapons were travelling at too slow a velocity to be effective, and were really doing little else than absorbing enemy beam fire. If that was all they would do, Mei would take it. At least those beam weapons weren’t hitting her ships.

  One of the enemy ships shook as a concentration of lasers struck her hull, followed by a fast moving antimatter particle beam. The task group, as per orders, now concentrated on that wounded ship, quickly reducing her to slag. At the same time the enemy concentrated on a pair of light cruisers and a destroyer, turning them into spinning hulks. At this rate the Imperials would definitely win this engagement, but there was no telling what might come next out of the enemy wormhole.

  “Range to enemy, fourteen thousand kilometers,” called out the Tactical Officer. “Velocity, six hundred and twenty kilometers a second.”

  All beam weapons were hitting at what amounted to full strength, with minimal spread. They would become incrementally more powerful as the distance closed, but not enough to really matter. What would matter was that in less than twenty-four seconds they would be close enough to throw things from the airlocks at the enemy.

  A destroyer took a missile hit, as unlikely as that seemed. Unlikely didn’t mean impossible, and what wasn’t impossible was sure to happen eventually. A moment after the destroyer went into a tumbling spin an Imperial missile hit one of the supercruisers. The more massive ship weathered the hit, which took out a half dozen of her laser domes.

  “The enemy wormhole is continuing to spit out fighters,” said an officer from CIC who was running the understrength analysis section.

  And if they continue to do that, we will be able to take out this screen and go for the wormhole. She would have a shot at the freighter in less than twenty seconds. Or she could try something else.

  “Once we break through the Caca warships, I want us to swing in to point all our forward tubes into the wormhole. And then we’ll give them something to remember us by.”

  * * *

  “Sommerkorn is reporting heavy damage to her forward systems,” reported the Com Tech.

  Von Rittersdorf looked over at the holo that centered on another of the destroyers in his command. The ship was hanging bow down, all of her forward grabbers gone, multiple holes through the hull in that area. The ship had been hit by over dozen missiles, twenty to fifty megaton weapons, that by themselves were not enough to take out the destroyer. Smartly targeted on a single area, they had done a good job on her.

  MacArthur herself shook from a hit, this one going in amidships and blowing through the hull. Another holo came into being, showing the red of damage on the destroyer. The Captain hissed a sigh of combined relief and concern. The damage was bad, and casualties were reported by their lack of life signs, or the screaming of their implants to show that they had been injured and were in need of help. Due to being undermanned, there were fewer casualties than there would have been. But also, because of being understrength, every casualty was felt even more.

  “Order the commander of Sommerkorn to pull back into space,” ordered Maurice. “I don’t want them falling into the planet.”

  “We have another wave of enemy fighters coming in, sir. Most of them are heading for Sommerkorn.”

  Of course they are, thought von Rittersdorf. That was the wounded beast, and in killing her, they could drop the ship into the city, causing great damage.

  “Try to cover her as best you can,” he told the Tactical Officer, well aware that his ship was getting dangerously low on munitions for her close in defense batteries. All of his ships were, though they had killed well over a thousand enemy fighters in the expenditure.

  He watched the main viewer as the hundreds of fighters swept in. They started launching from over a hundred kilometers out, their missiles taking off like streaks, many if not most heading for the almost crippled destroyer.

  MacArthur and her sisters swept the air with lasers, the beams moving back and forth, blasting missiles out of the sky. Many of the missiles had antimatter warheads in the ten to twenty megaton range, detonating in blasts that threw hundreds of other missiles off course, knocking some from the sky to fall into the city below, detonating among the metropolis at random. Those hitting in low rise areas spread out for a dozen kilometers in each direction, destroying those few structures of low strength, rolling over those of sturdier construction. The warheads hitting within high rise areas blew most of their power into the air, funneled by the tough materials of the skyscrapers that were able to weather the overpressure. It was bad news for anyone out in the open, though those within the sturdier structures were safe enough.

  That was the main reason the enemy had started off the attack with kinetic weapons, coming in at such high velocity that they were able to penetrate even the toughest of structures. Some were still falling, but most had been used up, forcing the fighters to use the weapons they carried for use against their own kind and small craft.

  “We’re out of port side ammo,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  “Helm, turn the ship to bring our starboard batteries to bear,” ordered the Captain, not sure if that maneuver could be accomplished in time to help the damaged destroyer, which was slowly starting to rise on a course that would take them to a low orbit in a few minutes.

  Suddenly, a score of warheads exploded in the air, sending shock waves through the sky among the swarm of Caca fighters. Dozens of fighters found themselves within the fireballs of the ten to twenty megaton warheads, more than their hulls could handle. Over a hundred more tumbled through the air, many losing control completely and going into spins that only ended when they smacked the ground twenty kilometers below. Most were able to pull out, and soon had gathered back into a group, this time their attention fixed on what was below.

  “Where did those rounds come from?” shouted the Captain, as his ship continued to turn, bringing her still supplied batteries to bear.

  “Mobile ground defense guns,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at his Captain, a smile on his face. The smile turned over in an instant. “Now they’ve attracted the attention of the Cacas, and I think they pissed them off.”

  MacArthur brought her batteries to bear, sending out streams of explosive rounds that splashed over a score of enemy aircraft before they knew what was happening. More rounds sped from below, hypervelocity warheads that seemed to be streaks of light before detonating. The destroyer targeted and knocked individual aircraft out of the sky, while particle beams and lasers came from below, executing more of the enemy fighters.

  The surviving Caca craft continued their attack. No matter what you could say about the creatures, they had courage, and no quit in them. They knocked out eleven of the twenty guns that had ravaged their formation, then rose back into the sky, heading back to hit the destroyers that were still spearing them out of the air one by one with lasers. And right into a swarm of imperial fighters that came streaking in with all weapons firing. In moments the attack was broken, only a few Caca fighters still in the air and streaking away at hypersonic speed.

  “Is that it?” asked the Helmsman.

  “Maybe for here,” said the Com Tech. “Sir, I’m picking up calls on the com for aid.”

  “Where from?”

  The central holo tank changed its view, showing the globe of the world, with blinking red dots showing areas that were still attracting the attention of the enemy. This included another five metropolises on the surface. None were getting the attention that Capitulum had gotten, but all were t
aking damage, all were sustaining casualties among their populations.

  “Send out these dispositions to the other ships in the squadron,” ordered von Rittersdorf, working the control board at his seat and linking ships in his squadron with destinations. “Every captain is to do everything possible to destroy as many Caca craft as possible. Now let’s be about it.”

  He looked back at the schematic, sure that they were close to a victory here on Jewel, if sustaining the losses that had been incurred could be called victory. It was one they would have to take, and be glad for it.

  * * *

  “Admiral. We have restored communications.”

  Admiral Nakama looked over at the tactical plot that came back to life as data links were reestablished. He already knew that his station had not been hit again. That was made obvious by the lack of the shock waves that were always generated from a major warhead hit. Still, his eyes widened as he saw the damage that had been done to the docks and repair slips that orbited around the Central Station.

  But we’re still here, he thought, looking at the plot now with an eye for enemy units, and the combat that was still going on. There were still plenty of red icons on the plot, and he felt a shiver of anxiety as he wondered how many enemy fighters were still coming through their wormhole.

  “What word on their wormhole?” he asked his Tactical Officer. “Did anyone go after it?”

  “It looks like Duchess Mei has her task group attacking it,” said the Tactical Officer as the plot zoomed in to show a number of Imperial ships closing on a trio of red icons, all too large to be fighters.

  “What are those?” asked the Admiral, pointing to and highlighting the red icons, one of which blinked and disappeared even as he spoke.

  “Enemy supercruisers.”

  The Admiral hissed in a breath. If they were bringing those ships through, what might be coming next.

  * * *

  The Captain stared at his doom as it approached. There was only one more defending supercruiser between his freighter and the enemy, and it was being pounded. His own ship was now armed, the equipment having been brought over through the wormhole before the waves of fighters, and installed as soon as his crew could get it in place. His ship was now capable of fighting off enemy fighters, maybe a small group of destroyers. He had no illusions as to his ability to take on the battle cruisers that were heading his way.

  “Tell headquarters that we need reinforcements, now. Otherwise, this part of the operation is about to come to a close.”

  He looked back at the Ca’cadasan Overlord, who was staring at the plot without expression. “We are about to be destroyed, my Lord,” he told the true leader of the mission, the one put there to make sure that he fulfilled what his task. Now, having seen the home of a mighty empire of his own people, he was having reservations about serving the Ca’cadasans. Reservations that had come too late. He could only hope that he had not caused so much damage to these humans that they could not recover.

  “We have served our purpose,” said the huge male, his eyes never leaving the plot. “Now we die for the glory of the Emperor.”

  The last of the supercruisers exploded in a fury of breached antimatter. And now there was nothing between the freighter and the enemy force that was coming for it. “We need reinforcements, now,” yelled the Captain, looking over at his Com Officer.

  “One more ship will be coming through,” said the Cacada, his tone flat. “And we will do unto them what they have done to us.”

  One more ship, thought the human, his mind trying to grasp the meaning of what the Master was saying. One more ship? He recalled the reports he had seen, information he was not supposed to be privy to. About what these humans had done on the other front, by pushing a ship with a wormhole through a wormhole. The explosion was said to be spectacular, enough to destroy thousands of ships. And what better target for such a blast than this gathering of ships and two inhabited planets, one the heart of the enemy Empire.

  “No,” shouted the Captain, his mind made up in an instant. He had come on this mission prepared to die, and he still was. But now he was ready to sacrifice his life for another purpose, and not the one those who had sent him would have approved of.

  The Captain snatched the particle beam from his holster and turned on the Cacada. The being looked at the human, his eyes growing wide, his mouth opening to shout a command. Eyes and mouth both disappeared in a splash of red tinted superheated steam.

  The second Cacada on the bridge tried to snatch his own weapon out, roaring rage and defiance. The creature was too slow, like all of his kind, and a large portion of his right upper chest disappeared in another burst of steam.

  The Captain turned back to his bridge crew, several of whom had weapons out and drawn, pointed his way.

  “Why,” said Mary, his mate.

  “They meant to kill us all along. And all the people in this system.”

  “We have one more ship on approach to the other side,” called out the Com Officer, still seated at her station.

  The Tactical Officer turned back to his board as warning signals sounded. “We are taking full lasers to the hull.”

  “Damage?” asked Mary, her eyes and weapon never leaving her Captain.

  “Minimal so far,” reported the Tactical Officer.

  Laughing Troll was now a heavily armed and protected warship. With ten meters of sprayed in armor and twice the electromag protection of the attacking battlecruisers, she could now take a pounding. Unfortunately, her weapons were not up to the same standard, equaling those of maybe a quartet of destroyers.

  “Mary, we must close down the wormhole,” said the Captain.

  “But, they’re sending through another ship,” said a confused Mary.

  “They’re sending through a bomb. To completely destroy this system.”

  “We have hull burn through to lower cargo hold.”

  “This is the only chance our people have, and you know it,” said the Captain. “The Masters have always wanted to destroy our race, and you know that as well.”

  “Ship is about to enter the other end of the wormhole,” called out the Com Officer.

  “Only one ship?” asked Mary, looking back at her mate, her expression changing.

  “Yes, ma’am. They….”

  “Close the wormhole,” she shouted, lowering her weapon.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Close the wormhole, now.”

  The Tactical Officer nodded and imputed the code, causing the frame on this side to turn off its magnetic containment field. In an instant the negative matter held in the field flowed out, cancelling much of the matter in the frame as well as itself. No longer held open by the negative matter, the wormhole winked out of existence on this end, a moment later gone at the other, just before the ship that was about to transit went through the now empty frame on that side.

  * * *

  “Continue trying to take out that gate,” ordered the Admiral as her flagship kept pouring lasers and particle beams into the mirrored surface. The electromagnetic fields in front of the mirror were distorting her beams, while the frame was protected by very thick armor, almost thirty meters, behind more of the powerful field generators.

  Many of the shots were going through the wormhole, which might have been doing great damage to whatever was on the other side. That was something she had wanted to do. But they were doing nothing to shut it down.

  “It looks like we’re going to have to destroy the ship around it, ma’am,” reported the Tactical Officer.

  “Then that is what we’ll do,” said Mei. She had little doubt that her force could take out this converted merchant ship in a couple of minutes. What she did doubt was her ability to destroy every possible vessel that might appear through the portal.

  “It’s, gone,” exclaimed the Tactical Officer, pointing to the forward viewer that was centered on the freighter and the opening that led to the portal.

  “Did you hit the frame?”

 
; “Not as far as I can figure, ma’am. The weapons on the freighter have ceased firing, Admiral,” continued the Tactical Officer. “Do you want us to cease fire, ma’am?”

  “Continue to fire. There’s no telling what they might spring on us next.”

  “We’re receiving a transmission from that ship, ma’am,” called out the Com Tech in an excited voice. “Someone who says he’s the captain, and that he wishes to surrender his ship and crew to us.”

  A portion of the hull of the freighter glowed and puffed out as a burst of gas. A hole appeared in the hull at that point, and several other laser beams struck through the opening into the vitals of the ship. They had already figured that this freighter had much heavier hull plating than normal. In fact, it acted suspiciously like multiple meters of warship armor. As she watched, its cold plasma encased electromagnetic field dropped, the glowing area of plasma that had intersected the light amp beams quickly spread and dissipated into the vacuum of space. The same would be true for the plasma that had not been excited to a heated state, but it simply went from slightly opaque to not there.

  The Admiral thought for a moment. The battle was not over. There were still enemy fighters and attack ships in the system, still going about their business of targeting and firing on Imperial assets. The intelligence haul from taking this ship intact could be huge. Allowing its continued existence could be disastrous.

  “Order the group to cease fire on the freighter,” she called out, hoping she was doing the right thing. “Continue to fire on any other Ca’cadasan vessels we can target. And at the first sign of that ship doing something untoward, I want everyone to fire everything they have at her. Now put the enemy Captain on the viewer.”

  Mei sat up straighter in her chair when the image of the enemy captain was before her on the viewer. “Human?” she blurted out, even though it was obviously human, unless the Cacas were trying to pull something by sending the image of a human across.

  “We are the descendants of humans captured by the Masters when they destroyed our homeworld. We were raised to obey, and were sent on this mission to cause as much damage to your system and your fleet as possible.”