Other wormholes, some of those already installed in the station, were being pulled from the hull and being put in survival containers that were made to eject from the station if a disaster occurred. That might save a hundred more. Not much, but better than a total loss.
Only we won’t be here to see if they survive, thought the sweating Commander. Because they surely wouldn’t.
* * *
The massive ship shook from the burst of plasma from a near miss striking the hull. The High Admiral grimaced once again. He had known this was a suicide mission, the best case being to survive the attack on the station so they could fight a couple of more battles in these human core systems before ending. Now, with the fire coming at them from the station, the wave of missiles coming up from behind, and the impossible fighters and their overstrength missiles popping up at unpredictable intervals, he wasn’t sure they would even be able to accomplish the first goal.
“That is one tough bitch,” said the Tactical Officer as a series of pinpoint bursts flared over the ribbon ahead. Five were larger than the others, quarkium warheads made specially to take out large hard targets.
The High Admiral wasn’t so sure that the station was that tough. It was just unbelievably huge, which had a toughness of its own. Even the quarkium warheads were only pinpricks to its mass. If three could hit perfectly, severing all the support cables within ten kilometers along the circumference, they might be able to destroy it. The odds of that happening with millions of kilometers of swiftly rotating ring were as near to impossible as any mathematician could ask for.
“The wave of missiles coming up from the station are curving their trajectories,” said the Tactical Officer, his eyes darting back to the holo screens hanging above his station. “They all seem to be tracking on the freighter.”
The High Admiral grunted. Normally, in the case of a massed enemy, weapons were sent in the direction of a force, group targeting. Each missile targeted on the best object of opportunity, as targets dropped off the plot, missiles retasked to other targets. Or they could all be set to go after a particular target, like a flagship, which ran the risk of massive overkill. Missiles were not an unlimited resource in a battle.
“It’s like they know what we’re trying to do, my Lord,” said the Chief of Staff.
“Of course they do,” said the High Admiral, giving a head motion of agreement. He looked over at the Com Officer as he punched in his dispositions at his own station to be transmitted. “Make sure the force gets these orders. We will do everything we can to protect the bomb ship. It is the reason we are here.”
“What about the missiles coming from behind?” asked the Tactical Officer as the battleships started to change their positions in relation to the freighter. Most moved to directly in front of the ship they were to protect, while a few closed in tight to the side. Two ships stayed in the rear, ready to take on anything that might pop up unexpectedly from that direction.
“When we have dealt with this wave, we will reconfigure to cover the rear. Maintain the variations of vector to throw off their beam weapons.” He looked the Tactical Officer straight in the eyes, making sure he had the male’s attention. “When we get closer we will worry about our deployment to deal with their close in attacks.”
And we will all be within range of the blast when the bomb ship goes off, he thought, making another head motion, this one of disbelief. Unfortunately, whether he believed it or not, it was going to happen. It was the result of the only ending that would be the result of a successful attack.
Chapter Twenty
Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and without reservation that he is in error. Andrew Jackson
Me Lei swore as she looked at the feed coming from the closest ship of the gate guardian squadron. Hers was the first ship through, the rest of her task group following. The ship she was getting the feed from was less than five thousand kilometers away, meaning the information, which was coming through that ship’s wormhole com system, was as instantaneous as possible.
“Why can’t they stop them from getting next to the station,” cried the Helm.
Because we never saw the possibility of this happening, thought the Admiral. The only two possibilities of an attack were from something coming in from out of the system, which would be seen before it got within any possible engagement range. Or it could come through one of the wormhole gates, just about impossible with the gate squadrons on guard.
No one had thought that the Cacas might be able to insert a wormhole equipped Q-ship into the system surreptitiously, then bring missiles and warships through that gate. It had caught everyone off guard, and if not for the alertness of some ship captain who was paying attention it would have closed with the station before someone had noticed that some inconsequential tramp freighter was even there.
“I’m getting some chatter over the command circuit, ma’am,” called out the Com Officer. “They’re talking about the possibility of the enemy using a wormhole bomb on the station.”
“What the hell is a wormhole bomb,” said the Tactical Officer, turning his confused face toward his Admiral.
Something above your need to know, thought the Admiral. Of course the information had been disseminated among the Admiralty and any commander group level or above. And the scientists who needed to work out the theory of how to use such a weapon in the future. If they set off something like that next to the station, we’re going to lose it.
“Is there anything we can do to get there before them?” asked Mei, feeling stupid as she asked the question. Of course there wasn’t, or there would already be a mass of warships there, boosting toward the enemy with no concern for their own survival, knowing that if such a device went off and they were within a hundred thousand kilometers of it, their destruction was assured.
“No, ma’am,” said the Helm. “All we can do now is sit and watch. Though we could vector to a course where we might be able to intercept any Caca ships trying to leave the system in the direction of the nearest Supersystem world.”
“You think that is where they will be heading?” she asked the Tactical Officer.
“If any survive? That’s where I would head. They might be able to get there and smash up some more of our assets. We should be able to get to the barrier before they do.”
And face how many of their larger more, powerful ships? thought the Admiral, dismissing the worry as soon as it came. No matter the cost, they needed to take out any ships before they could get away. If they set off a wormhole bomb next to the station, they would also be taking out their last means of instantaneous communications with their command. And then the Empire couldn’t afford to let any of their ships get away to bring news back to their command that the Donut no longer existed.
“Everyone in the tanks. I want to make sure we’re there to greet them. Send the order to the rest of the squadron, then inform the gate squadron commander of my intentions.”
The chorus of acknowledgements came back as the tanks rose from the deck. Within minutes the task group, eight battlecruisers, thirteen light cruisers and eighteen destroyers, were on the way, their crews within the acceleration tanks, boosting at thirty gravities above their maximum safe rate. If everything worked out as planned, they would be there hours before the enemy reached the barrier, maybe a couple of light hours in. That wouldn’t bring back the Donut, but it would insure that word of its destruction never reached the Caca high command, and they would remain in doubt.
Unless they have too many ships remaining for me to handle, thought the Admiral. And I’ll still take them out, even if I have to sacrifice every ship in my command.
* * *
“We think they’re trying to destroy the station with a wormhole bomb,” said McCullom, looking into the face of her monarch through the wormhole com.
“Christ,” cursed Sean, wondering how much more he could take this day. As much as I need to, he thou
ght, straightening his back. But it was all too much. Until this day they didn’t even know that the Cacas had wormhole technology. Now they not only knew that their enemy had the secret to the Empire’s greatest tech, they had also hurt the Empire severely with that technology. And they had hurt him personally. The revelation that the enemy was capable of using a wormhole bomb had come with the capture of the first ship in the Jewel/New Terra dual system. And now the second enemy and its escorts were closing with the station on what could only be a close in attack.
“Can we stop them?”
“We’re trying, your majesty. But we never expected this kind of an attack. We never saw them coming through wormholes into space so close to the station, already inside the reach of our system force.”
“We should have had a larger force stationed next to the station,” said Sean, feeling his temper rise, squashing it, knowing that it would do no good to throw recriminations into the face of his CNO.
“We should have, your majesty. And it’s my fault we didn’t. You can have my resignation, if it pleases you.”
“We don’t have time for this,” shouted Sean. “I need you to get your people together and figure out what we’re going to do if we lose the station.”
“Lose the war,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Unacceptable. I do not intend to be the last Emperor. Station or not, we will find a way to win. We’re smarter than the Cacas. We can outthink them.” Though it doesn’t seem like it at this time. “And do whatever you can to save that station, so we don’t have to fall back on a contingency plan we never imagined we would have to use.”
“Your Majesty,” called out an excited staff officer manning one of the analysis stations. “We’re getting reports from Admiral Lenkowski’s force. They have the Cacas on the run in their sector.”
“Tell Len to be careful. We’ve had enough surprises for today.”
“We getting the take on that battle ourselves right now, your Majesty,” said McCullom. “Our analysts are looking it over at this time. We’ll get back to Admiral Lenkowski as soon as we have something.”
Sean looked quickly at the tactical plot. There was still that worrying red arrow heading toward new Moscow. He didn’t have enough ships in its way to stop it, and New Moscow didn’t have enough in system to stop them when they got there.
“Get to it, Admiral,” said Sean, dismissing his CNO, turning away from the plot staring at the blank air where the com holo had been moments before. He turned and paced the deck. They still had a battle to win. If they could fight the Cacas to a standstill today, they could still buy some time. Time to get more ships out of the building slips and prepare for the next wave. Less ships than they would have had before the Cacas hit Central Docks, but probably more that the Cacas had thought they had. Central Docks was important, but still less than twenty percent of the Empire’s ship building capacity currently resided in the Supersystem, of which the Docks were less than eight parts of that twenty. And Central Docks, while ravaged, had not been destroyed. The greater loss would have been the capital planet, and from all reports, though decimated, Capitulum was still there.
“We’re going into action, your Majesty,” came the call of the ship’s captain over the com.
“Acknowledged,” said Sean, switching his view to the super heavy battleship’s tactical.
Her group, seven of her class, along with a hundred standard battleships and over four hundred escorts, was maneuvering on the flank of the Caca force, over a thousand ships. All were launching missiles, putting them into space at distance. At first look it appeared that they were heavily unnumbered, a losing proposition. A closer look showed the three other forces closing in on the enemy. They were trapped, well and good, and the chances that any of the Caca ships would get back to the hyper barrier were slim at best. If they had a wormhole com the rest of the Cacas would get word of their defeat. Sean was banking on them not even having that. The Cacas couldn’t have that many of the things, not enough to have equipped every one of their forces. Or at least that was what he was counting on.
* * *
“My Lord. You need to see this.”
“What is it?” asked the High Admiral, walking to the tactical station.
“We have sixteen objects on approach from thirty degrees to port. They don’t seem to be accelerating, but their graviton emissions are similar to large warships. And they’re radiating a considerable amount of heat.”
The High Admiral stared at the plot. He had served in the Ca’cadasan fleet for over two thousand years, and he had never seen anything like this. But whatever they were, they were coming for his fleet.
“What do the other sensors show?”
“Nothing, my Lord. They don’t appear on radar or lidar, despite their proximity.”
While not impossible, the human stealth ships showed as much, it was also highly unlikely that something radiating so much heat would also be employing that kind of a sensor masking field or hull.
“Estimated time of contact, one minute, thirty-four seconds,” said the Tactical Officer.
“Open fire on them. I don’t care what they are, I want them blown out of space.”
The ships started cycling counter missiles at the incoming objects, while lasers lanced out to strike the things. And all seemed to have no effect on the objects, not even changing their vectors in the least.
“Hit them with shipkillers,” shouted the Admiral. “Prepare for evasive maneuvers.” He wasn’t sure what evasives would do at this point. If these were some new kind of impossible warship they would be among his force in less than a minute, and there would be no way to dodge their beam weapons, or whatever else they carried.
The capital ship missiles sped out, to die in blazes of glory near to the objects. Some of the blazes seemed to be somewhat diminished, another anomaly that they couldn’t begin to understand. And still all sixteen objects came on, a few on slightly altered vectors, but not what would be expected from non-accelerating ships hit by a gigaton of explosive power.
“Prepare for impact,” yelled out the High Admiral as the objects closed the last million kilometers. Ships maneuvered frantically, trying to put as much distance between themselves and objects of unknown capabilities. One ship barely made it out of the way, and the object passed within a hundred meters of the hull. Alloy warped, skin bubbled from the heat, and then the object was past, and the ship was left with minimal damage.
Another ship was not so lucky, and the object hit it and passed through as if the tough vessel was no more than vacuum. It passed in an instant, eating a thirty centimeter hole of absorbed matter, warping materials twenty meters further on either side. The ship would have survived the strike, if not for the path that went through the ready store of antimatter and breached it into the engineering compartment. The ship went up in a flash, antimatter breaching more antimatter, until the ship was gone. And the object that had caused the breach continued on, no worse for wear, a hundred thousand tons more massive.
The High Admiral stared at the plot, cursing under his breath. It could have been worse, but losing any ship to whatever the things were was bad enough.
“Not a very effective weapon, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer. “Despite their destructive power.”
The High Admiral had to agree with that assessment as he watched the heat sources continuing outward. They seemed to have no guidance system, or any means of changing their vector. Their only advantages seemed to be invulnerability, and the ability to sneak up on their targets.
“Keep a look out for more heat sources,” he told his Tactical Officer. “And make sure that those that have already passed don’t come up without notice. On your life.”
The Tactical Officer gave a head motion of acknowledgement while gulping, his eyes wide. The officer knew that if any other of the ships were destroyed he would quickly follow their crews into death.
* * *
“They’re continuing in on a maximum decel profile, sir,�
�� said the Chief of Staff, stopping at Admiral Mikal Kalashnikov’s station.
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” said the Admiral as he studied the simulation data of the only known wormhole bomb explosion, the one set off by the Empire among the Caca ships around New Earth. That ship had come through an almost stationary wormhole. The ship itself had only been moving at a couple of kilometers per second. And they are bringing in a ship carrying a wormhole moving at a significant fraction of light. If they set the bomb off more than a light second from the station, the effect will be negligible. If they wait too long, the ship hits the station, possibly breaches, and destroys the wormhole it’s carrying. Or it misses the station and goes in too close to the black hole, most of its blast absorbed. Maybe even into the black hole. Of course, no matter the range of the blast, the momentum of the ship would carry some of the force into the station, the shotgun effect. But there would be spread, and it wouldn’t take much to render the blast incapable of severing the ring. Not that it would do the poor spacers and civilians under that blast any good, but the supports would survive, even the secondaries.
“They’re trying to give themselves a margin of error,” the Admiral told his Chief of Staff. “What will be their estimated velocity as they enter the hundred thousand kilometer range?”
“About point two light,” said the Chief of Staff. “Meaning they will hit the station in about one point six six seconds from the time they reach that distance. But they will need to detonate within twenty thousand kilometers to insure the breach of ring integrity.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 26