Exodus: Empires at War: Book 9: Second Front

by Doug Dandridge

  “If we are not freed we will continue to serve the Overlords, until the Monsters are vanquished. And then, we will rise in revolt. If you free us, we will still fight the Monsters, but as free men and women.”

  The Alpha left the chamber, and Sung sat back in her chair. So, what the hell are we going to do now? Evacuate back to the Empire through the wormholes? Scuttle the ships? And this will all have been a waste of time and resources. We came here to find allies, and if we had just played it differently and ignored the atrocities these people, we would already have them.

  But Parliament wouldn’t stand for that. Neither would the Emperor. In fact, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if they allied with these genocidal xenophobes who had engineered an entire slave race to serve them.

  Evacuation sounds good, she thought. And if it had been in the days of prior to wormholes, she would have been the commander on the spot, and expected to make the decision. She might have been busted out of the service after she returned, if she made the wrong decision. But now they had instantaneous com back to the heart of the Empire, and this decision was not hers to make.

  “Get me a com back to the CNO,” she told her Com Officer over the intercom.

  It probably isn’t hers either, but I have to go through the chain of command. And nobody wants to drop the ball on this one.

  * * *

  “My recommendation, your Majesty, is to pull them out and scuttle their ships,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Sondra McCullom, Chief of Naval Operations, over the holo. “If we wait, we just risk losing them, and letting the Klavarta get their hands on our tech.”

  That would be the smart call, thought Sean, looking at his senior Fleet officer on the holo. But is it the right call?

  “Excuse me for a moment, Sondra,” he told his CNO, then blanked the holo and looked over his shoulder at the woman standing beside him. “Tell me what you think, my dear.”

  “I think you have a big problem on your hands,” said Jennifer, putting a soft hand on his shoulder.

  “I know that,” he said, reaching up and squeezing her hand. “And what should I do about this big problem?”

  “You know I never liked the idea of trying to overthrow another government, especially a human one,” she said, frowning. “But you also know that I don’t have any sympathy for these people, as Natasha Sung likes to call them. Bunch of genocidal freaks, and clones at that.”

  “So you wouldn’t evacuate?”

  Jennifer shook her head, a troubled look on her face. “I don’t like the thought of the casualties this might cause, both to us and the innocent slaves of that kingdom. But I think it will be worse if we let them go their own way. Even if they survive the Cacas, someone else in their space is going to eventually smash them flat. They’ve already proven that they are murderous xenophobes, and no other species is ever going to trust them.”

  “So you think I should act?”

  “That’s not my decision to make, my love. But my opinion is that you should go ahead and do what you need to do to topple that government and free those intelligent beings.”

  Sean nodded and brought the holo back online. “It’s a go with the operation, Admiral. I want you to start getting everything in place immediately. Sung said the Klavarta were planning their operation in four days. Then I want ours ready to go in three. Understood?”

  “I think this is a bad idea, your Majesty. But yours to command.”

  “That is correct, Admiral. And my blame if it blows up in our face.”

  * * *

  “Welcome to the Donut, Captain Chou,” said the greeting officer, an Ensign, as the inertia less fighter wing commander disembarked from her craft, her crew trailing close behind.

  The Klassakian Spacer, Mzzarat Naranta was still wide eyed as she tried to stare at everything at once. She had been raised among a people who had only achieved late twentieth century Earth tech. Coming out of the wormhole gate to see a station as large as the orbit of a close in planet was enough to shock anyone, much less someone who had only flown in slow jets prior to coming to the Empire.

  “Thank you, Ensign. The rest of my wing is coming in behind me. Can you make sure they get directions to their quarters.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. And here are your directions.”

  The information came in over the Captain’s implant, and suddenly she knew just about everything there was to know about this very tiny section of the station. There were twenty hangars within short walking distance of hers. Each could hold an entire wing of the twelve hundred ton attack fighters. One hundred and ten ships at full strength, which hers now was. Five other wings were here, along with the Klassakians who were the controllers. Their Hyper VII carriers were in close space, and would soon be rotating crew to the Donut for shore leave. Her own people would also get a few days of rest and recreation, before they were back to the grind of training.

  “Out of curiosity, how are the new aliens working out?” asked the Ensign, escorting the Captain to the hangar hatch.

  “That’s classified, Ensign,” she told the man, watching as his face turned into a mask at her tone. “I can tell you that the Cacas are not going to like it.”

  The Ensign’s mask morphed into a smile, and the Captain felt better making his day. And we have over six hundred of the ships here now, enough to tear a Caca task group apart. And many more to come, as soon as we can get more of our com wizards trained.

  * * *

  “The operation has been moved up to three days,” announced the Briefing Officer at the head of the room. “I know,” she said as hands went up and the more senior officers started to shout questions without waiting for acknowledgement. “You were supposed to have another ten days, but there have been some complications. We received word that the Klavarta are planning their own operation to take the exploration vessels, and we need to beat them to the punch.”

  Cornelius raised his hand, a question on his mind. Not really about himself, but he had men under him that this concerned.

  “Yes, Major,” said the Briefing Officer, pointing at Walborski.

  “It seems to me, Ma’am, that the situation has changed somewhat. The Klavarta will now be on alert because of their own operation, and our job has just become an order of magnitude more difficult. This seems to have turned into a suicide mission.”

  “What’s the matter, son,” said an officer sitting one row up, and therefore of higher rank. “Getting a case of the nerves? No one promised that you would die in bed.”

  The light colonel continued turning until he was looking right at Walborski. His eyes widened as he saw who he was talking to. Not that Cornelius was in any outward respect that different from any of the other officers, except for his eyes, which the Lt. Colonel now found staring at him. They were the coldest eyes the hard officer had ever seen, but his own eyes widened as he caught sight of the metallic neck guard on Walborski’s uniform, embossed with the symbol of the barony Walborski had yet to visit. His eyes got even wider when the Lt. Colonel caught sight of the ribbon with two stars, the mark of two awards of the Imperial Medal of Heroism.

  “I don’t appreciate your suggestion that I might be afraid to do my duty, Sir,” said Walborski in a cold voice. The man swallowed.

  “I’m sorry, Major,” said the other officer. “Or is it Baron?”

  “If you two have finished your pissing match, perhaps we can get back to the briefing,” said the Agent who was their Briefing Officer. “To answer your question, Major, this mission is ordered by Imperial decree. The order comes directly from the man you all swore your oaths to. There is no backing out.”

  Cornelius nodded, afraid of that answer. It was not that he intended to back out, but sometimes that option was offered to enlisted volunteers. Otherwise, refusing to go on an ordered mission brought prison time at the Purgatory facility. But disobeying an Imperial directive was a capital offense, so even a suicide mission offered a better chance of survival.

  “So after this meeting, get b
ack with your teams and iron out the last details. We will have two more training days, then begin movement to your assembly areas.”

  Which for Cornelius meant that his rump battalion would be moving to a chamber on the Donut for insertion to their assault objective. Others would be going directly to the exploration ships where they could assault their targets across the short distance of space that separated them from their objectives. Those would mostly be Fleet personnel, Naval Commandos.

  “What about the special assets?” asked one of the officers on the front row, where the captains and colonels were sitting. “Will they be ready in time?”

  “They will be. They and their operators have been training hard. They may not be up to the standard we had hoped for, but they will have to do.”

  Which pretty much sums up this whole clusterfuck of an operation, thought Cornelius as he walked back to his section with his subordinate officers, not looking forward to telling his NCOs about the change in plans.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows.

  Doug Larson.

  NEW EARTH SPACE JUNE 1ST, 1002.

  “Red alert,” yelled a voice over the intercom as the klaxons sounded in the background. “Red alert. All crew to battle stations. This is not a drill. Commodore to the bridge.”

  “Bridge,” stammered Sung as she sat up in bed. “What the hell is going on?”

  And why the hell does it always have to happen when I’m in a deep sleep? Her next thought was what the emergency might be, and that jerked her wide awake. Could the Klavrta be attacking us ahead of their schedule?

  “Twenty-four Klavarta craft just entered the system, Commodore. They are broadcasting grav pulse in the clear. Something about twenty thousand Ca’cadasan ships on the way here.”

  “My God,” said the Commodore, jumping up and reaching for her boots. She had taken to sleeping in her uniform since they were at constant orange alert. She pulled the boots on and sealed them, then stood up, the nanoweave of her uniform automatically smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric that was also impact armor. “I’ll be right up. Sung out.”

  Twenty thousand ships, she thought, trying to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. My God. They’ll roll right over the system defense force. And we’re right in the middle of the system, without a chance of escape, unless we abandon our ships and run back through the wormhole. And then it will take almost a year to gain contact with them again, and who knows what will have happened in that time.

  Minutes later the Commodore ran onto the bridge, her eyes immediately seeking the tactical holo. There was really nothing new there, especially the twenty thousand vectors arrows of an enemy fleet forging into the system. Of course they wouldn’t be on the holo. And since they aren’t, they’re still more than four hours out. More likely five. So we have some time. Probably not enough, but some.

  “We’re getting an incoming com from the Council, ma’am,” called out the Com Officer.

  “Put it on my personal viewer,” she told the officer. The small holo beside her chair came to life, the worried face of Marion Pallion looking out.

  “You’ve heard?”

  “Yes, Madam Chairwoman. I have. Do you have confirmation on their numbers?”

  “Just what has been reported to me by the first couriers through. I expect more to come through any minute, hopefully with more information. Is there anything that you can do?”

  Besides die here? Each ship only has a single wormhole on board. The other three had already been maneuvered to their deployment points, one to the surface of the planet, one to the second belt, and the last to one of the far space stations.

  “We really can’t add much to your own firepower, Madam Chairman. So I really don’t see what we can do.”

  “What about your wormholes?” said the Chairwoman, her eyes narrowing. “There’s no use denying that you have such. Your ensign told us all about them.”

  “And what did you do to my ensign?” asked Sung, feeling her own face flushing with anger.

  “We found her wandering the streets of the Klavarta city to the north of the capital,” said Pallion, her own face as serene as could be expected when her capital was about to be attacked. “She had been attacked and beaten by parties unknown”

  And you expect me to believe that? thought Sung, snorting. “So how did you know about wormholes?”

  “Your Ensign was mumbling something about them when we found her. It appears that whoever had kidnapped her had subjected her to mind probing. All she kept saying was that they had found out about the wormholes aboard your ships.”

  “I want her brought to my ship, immediately.” And this could just be a trick to get us to reveal information, before they commit to their attempt to take my ships.

  “We have other concerns at the moment, Commodore. I suggest you contact your Empire and find out what help they might be able to give us. Remember, if they roll over us, they will be able to send their full might against your own Empire. Do you think you can survive? I would think about that as my priority.”

  The holo went blank. Sung sat there for some minutes as more Klavarta ships appeared on the tactical plot and began broadcasting grav waves with the same message. Still nothing to prove that there were indeed Caca ships on the way.

  “Make sure that this information is sent back to the Empire,” she told her Com Officer. Rosaro nodded and went to work on his board, sending not just the messages sent by the Klavarta and the conversation between his commander and the Chairwoman. He also sent every byte of data they had, which of course did not include verification that the Cacas were indeed on the way.

  “We’re picking up hyper emissions,” called out Lt. Parata, the Sensor Officer.

  “How many of them?”

  “At least a thousand, Ma’am. And they’re consistent with Ca’cadasan ships.”

  But not twenty thousand. At least not yet.

  “Get me the CNO on the com. I need to tell her what I think.”

  * * *

  “Understood, Commodore,” said Grand High Admiral McCullom to Sung over the holo. It still amazed her that she could talk to someone instantaneously across more than thirty thousand light years. “I will talk to the Emperor immediately.”

  The holo blanked, leaving Sondra with a moment to think about the response she was going to recommend to the Emperor. She didn’t have a lot in the local cupboard, and even with wormhole gates it would take time to get more through to the Klavarta capital.

  “Alert all of the inertia less fighter squadrons on the Donut to prepare to deploy through the wormhole net,” she told her Aide, who had been hanging in the background. “Also, send out a tasking order to Home Fleet to prepare for a deployment as soon as they can get themselves ready. And, last thing, requisition the parts and negative matter to erect both ends of some ship gates.”

  “And if those parts aren’t available, ma’am?” asked the young Lt. Commander, who could order more in her name than any Fleet Admiral alive.

  “Then get them by any means necessary,” she growled at the young man. “If we have to disassemble other gates, then do that. But we need them up and operating in no more than a couple of hours. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.”

  * * *

  “I accept the recommendation to deploy the inertia less fighters, Admiral,” said Sean, sitting in a chair and holding his tired head in his hands. It seemed like he never got enough sleep these days. His nanites could take care of the wastes that were normally cleaned from the system by rest, but it didn’t seem to help his mental state. For that he needed REM sleep, and current events just did not allow enough of that. “But I don’t think that will be enough. I don’t want the Klavarta capital to fall to the Cacas. It’s something they might never recover from. What other ships can you get to the fight?”

  “You know we can’t send any wormho
le equipped ships through, your Majesty,” replied the CNO. “We would be giving up our greatest tech advantage while sending a weak force to try and reinforce the Klavarta. I’m afraid any force we did send would not be enough.”

  “So you recommend not sending anything other than the inertia less fighters?”

  “The fighters could definitely give them a surprise, and do a lot more damage to the enemy than they will take.”

  “So what else do you recommend?”

  “I think we should still send what warships we can through, as a show of solidarity. But, more importantly, I think we should send as many space defense missile packs and mines through as we can fit through the gates in the allotted time.”

  “Minelayers?”

  “That was my thought, your Majesty. Properly deployed, they could lay a lot of traps in front of the Cacas. Slow them down on their way in, so we could get more weapons into the system. And we just happen to have five squadrons of the new minelayers in orbit near the Donut.”

  “OK, get them moving. And get the assault force in place as well.”

  “Don’t you think this the wrong time to try to overthrow their government, your Majesty?”

  “I don’t think we’ll have a better opportunity, Admiral. Their attention will definitely be elsewhere. And once the ships have been released for combat, the Klavarta warriors and pilots don’t really need their civilian leadership. Plus, this makes great cover for our special assets.”

  “Always the optimist, your Majesty?”

  “I’m hoping we can prevent the Cacas from taking out the capital system of our future allies. But if they do take the capital, I don’t want any of those clones to escape. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” said McCullom, her face a mask.

  Sean knew what the CNO was thinking. This could blow up in our faces. We could lose a lot of our own people, and not really gain anything. But if we don’t move, we could lose the heart of this nation, and still have the same xenophobic psychopaths in charge.