“One of the reserved garrisons is under attack, your Majesty,” came the call of his palace security command.
One of the holos switched from a tactical plot of the space of the system to a street side view of the barracks. It had a high wall around it, with guard towers spaced every fifty meters or so. All of the towers were burning, which meant they had been hit with long term incendiaries. A hole had been blown in the wall, and as he watched mortars flew over the walls and detonated in the interior of the fort. Moments later people started for the wall, flying to the top and firing down into the compound. The beams they fired were too bright, the sign of pure power.
“The garrison is barely holding on in some of the buildings,” said the man on the com. “The scumbags have hit every defensive position within the fort, almost like they knew exactly where they were.”
“They did,” said the Emperor, glaring at the display, watching as one of the enemy was hit by a particle beam and still ducked for cover, before some of his companions blotted out the position the fire had come from. “They’ve know what we’re doing from the start.” Because they have much more advanced tech, a thousand years in advance of what I was able to kick start here. They might even be watching me at this moment, listening to all of my coms.
“Do you want me to order a counterstrike with some of our palace force?”
And that is what my opponent wants me to do, he thought, looking over at the tactical holo of the ground action. Weaken my defenses here, so whatever they hit me with has a better chance of taking me. I should have just executed the son of a bitch as soon as I had him in my hands.
“Your Majesty?”
“No,” he shouted at the man. “You are to keep everyone in this palace in the palace, and on full alert. Anyone who doesn’t have clearance is to be detained. If they resist, they are to be shot. And don’t misunderstand me, Colonel. If you see armed people in the palace, they are to be engaged immediately, and I am to be informed as soon as that happens.”
“Yes, sir,” said the man, nodding. “Do you expect an attack here?”
“What do you think?” You fucking idiot. “Have everyone go to red alert status. All sensor scans to cover every bit of the palace. Now.”
The Emperor killed the com, his mind wondering why he had to deal with such idiots, not even cognizant of the fact that his system had made them the fearful citizens who didn’t dare rock the boat. And constant brainwashing and programming reduced their cognitive abilities even further. Compared to him, a super genius, all of his people were less than. And his policies made them even more so.
The com signal beeped again, and the Emperor activated it as soon as he saw who was on the other end. “We’re getting ready to launch the low level strike, your Majesty,” said the chief of his Army.
“Then what the hell are you waiting for?” he asked the officer, glaring into the holo. “Blast the fuckers off the face of my world.”
“Yes, sir. Launching now.”
An aerial view came up on another holo, showing the land surface of the moon just outside the capital. It was a patchwork of towns, villages, fields and areas of forest. The icons of the projected enemy penetration came up on an overlay. The positions weren't exact. The stealth systems of the enemy didn’t allow them to develop that kind of an appreciation. And a trio of icons moved over the ground at a sedate eight hundred kilometers an hour, heading for targets within the enemy position.
Something hit one of the cruise missiles, detonating the antimatter warhead five kilometers from the front. The fifty megaton warhead went off in a globe of fury, fanning out in all directions. The blast wave spread from the center of the explosion, following the faster heat flash.
The fireball was over nine kilometers in diameter, rising into the air over the battlefield. The air blast reached out ten kilometers from the center, while the thermal radiation from the burst stretched out over sixty kilometers. Most structures near the center of the blast were blown apart. Buildings further out were built strong enough to handle the overpressure, and they shrugged off the heat effects like they weren’t there.
Other objects in the thermal zone were not as strong as the buildings. People, animals, trees and fields, all were struck with killing heat, those closest to the center incinerated to ash, those furthest out simply burned, to die in agony. Fields and forests were set ablaze, those closer in torn from the ground and tossed as they caught on fire. Radiation, mostly neutrons, was deadly out to seven or eight kilometers, and people who weren’t hit by direct thermals were slowly killed by the rads.
The troops they were trying to kill weathered the attack. Tanks and armored vehicles turned away the heat and radiation effects with their thick hulls. The majority of the armored troops fared as well, though there were some burns and radiation damage, both of which could kill over time. Their suits automatically injected healing nanites into their systems, which went to work with machine efficiency to start repairing cells.
A scar was left on the ground over forty kilometers in radius, all of the vegetation, the weaker buildings, even reaching into the warehouse district of the city. Thousands died instantly, tens of thousands more would die without medical attention.
The other two missiles moved further in, tossed about by the turbulence, their powerful grabbers holding them on course. A silver mirror formed in the air just before the missiles, spreading out until it covered a kilometer of width and a hundred meters in height. Both missiles disappeared into the portal, which closed immediately. The missiles came out the other side of the portal, high above the atmosphere, their guidance systems confused. A moment later they detonated two hundred kilometers above the ground, bright flashes that grew into globes and then died.
Those damned wormholes again, thought the Emperor, slamming his fist to the top of his desk. His frustration roared as he screamed into the air, no thought for the people he had killed, his only concern that his strike had failed.
* * *
“We go now,” said Watcher, his face turning red as he stared at the holo that showed over ten thousand square kilometers of death and destruction.
“We need a couple of minutes to set up another Universe in a Bottle,” said one of the techs. “That last wormhole drained the one that was in the circuit, my Lord.”
“Get it prepped as fast as you can,” said Watcher, storming away from the console. “He’s gone too damned far. It’s time to let him know he’s no better than vermin, and that we’re the hunters.”
Pandi stared in horror at the holo that showed the blasted area. If not for their wormhole, that area might have covered thrice the area, three times the deaths. She knew that modern war could cause tremendous civilian casualties. It had been so in her day, in the ancient solar system, well before humankind reached the stars. But her side wasn’t supposed to play like that, striking at innocent civilians. And how is it better when we make an enemy do the same thing, to try and stop our superior force from beating them?
She walked up to Watcher and put her hands around his arm. “Don’t lose it lover. That’s your major advantage over that asshole. He reacts. You think. So think before you act.”
Watcher looked down at her and nodded, then closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. “You’re right,” he said, turning her and kissing her.
“That’s better,” she said, after sighing as he broke the kiss. “Fight smart,” she said, looking up into his beloved face. “He’s the hunted, as you said. He’s a cornered animal, and so is doubly dangerous. But only if you walk into his lair without a plan.”
* * *
The wormholes opened in front of the incoming missiles, widening to cover the areas that had been left open by the defensive fire. The breath caught in Krishnamurta’s throat as he watched the portals expand, and the missiles that were heading for his ships disappeared through it, to reappear over a light hour away, heading for the enemy force that had fired most of them.
“Indra has been hit,” called
out the Flag Tactical Officer.
Krishnamurta stood up in his seat and turned to see a side holo that showed the Confederation destroyer erupting into a cloud of plasma. Three other missiles detonated within the cloud as their target disappeared and they did what they were programmed to do, go for proximity kills.
“Kartikay and Maya have taken damage from debris hits,” continued the Tactical Officer.
“What happened to Indra?” the Admiral asked, staring at the holo that was displaying the damage to the other two ships, a cruiser and a destroyer. Both had taken damage to the hulls, though Maya, the cruiser, had also sustained injury to both her port stern grabbers and her hyperdrive ball.
“She failed to get her wormhole up,” said the Tactical Officer, his fingers working over his board as he was trying to replay the data.
“She didn’t get it up in time?”
“No, sir. They didn’t get it up at all. Something interfered with the ship opening its wormhole. I suspect it had something to do with interference from the other ships opening theirs. Too much stress on the space.”
“You know that?” asked the Admiral, who didn’t have a very good grasp of wormhole physics.
“Just a guess, sir. But they were in the pattern between four other ships opening wormholes, and something had to interfere with her opening them.”
“Send the data to the science section,” ordered the Admiral, “along with your conjecture. Maybe they can come up with something substantive.”
“And meanwhile, sir?”
“We have a battle to fight, Tactical. So pick out our next move, and prepare to target the most dangerous opponent.”
“We have a hyper signature,” shouted out the Sensor Officer.
“What?” blurted the Admiral. They were not expecting the first enemy reinforcement group for another five hours. “How many? From where?”
The tactical plot changed, updating with the new data. One big icon that had not been separated yet into its constituent parts. It was coming in one hundred and ten degrees from the force they had been expecting, and was obviously not the one they had detected on the way in.
“Estimated seven hundred ships,” called out the Sensory Officer. “Unable to determine makeup of fleet. ETA, one hour, ten minutes to normal space.”
Chapter Thirty
Men rise from one ambition to another: first, they seek to secure themselves against attack, and then they attack others.
Niccolo Machiavelli
The wormhole opened in a subbasement, a storage area seldom visited, unless there was a need for extra cleaning supplies. A swarm of microbots came through, spreading out, covering the twenty by twenty meter chamber. A subswarm heading into the ventilation duct, sliding easily through the tight weave cover that featured what seemed like gaping holes to the tiny robots. The machines sped through the duct, some taking each branch, groups moving out of each grill, sweeping the lower palace and transmitting their data back one to the other until the signal went back through the wormhole. The bots were almost impossible to detect. They were visible to the naked eye, in the same way a gnat was. One had to know they were there and get very close to them to see them. Electronically, they were even harder to detect.
In the first five seconds a hundred thousand bots had come through, the great majority of them moving through the palace ventilation system, ten thousand landing on boxes and shelves, waiting. They didn’t have to wait for long. The first of the commandos came through, his eyes sweeping the room, backing up the recon of the tiny drones. A moment later the next came, followed by more, as the first went to the door and disabled the lock, putting a device that not only opened the electronic mechanism, but also continued to send signals up the line telling the palace security system that the door remained locked and closed.
The door popped open and the microbots swarmed, moving down the corridor and fanning out, covering every approach, every opening that might lead up. They did the same as their brethren did in the duct system leading from the room, not only performing recon, but also latching onto any security systems and subverting them to the linked comp system carried by the suits of the engineer team that had come in with the two platoons of commandos.
The commandos made it up the elevator system after tricking open the doors and floating up. The first of the armed guards were on the basement level. The first men to know that the palace had been invaded. And the first to die.
* * *
“We have intruders in the palace,” shouted a voice over the com, just a moment before the alarms went off.
“Where? How many?” shouted the Emperor, looking up from his obsessive study of the land battle going on, the enemy still driving on the capital, bypassing everything they could, slicing through everything they couldn’t.
“We’re not sure how many, your Majesty,” said the panicked security officer. “A platoon or two, maybe more.”
“Where, you idiot? Answer my first question.”
“Uh, the subbasement and basement, your Majesty. They came in and up to the basement before we knew they were there.” The angry buzzing sounds of particle beams sounded in the background, then the rumble of an explosion. “We need more men, your Majesty,” shouted out the officer, his voice cracking in tension. “We…”
The com went dead, and the Emperor linked in with his Chief of Security. “We’re sending another company to the basement,” said the officer.
“Send two. And prepare a transport and some escorts, in case I have to evacuate.”
Having to say that last really burned at his ego. This was his seat of power, a place where he was supposed to be secure, if no place else. But he was facing an enemy that was totally unpredictable and much more advanced than his forces. If I had the reaction force to bring in, I might be able to salvage this. But those battalions were busy trying to survive the enemy units that were attacking them. He checked a schematic on the holo of the palace, an enormous structure of thousands of rooms, built as a fortress, with strongpoints throughout. And the only places marked in red thus far were down there in the basement, where every corridor could be turned into a small fortress.
That can’t be all the troops they’re going to commit. My enemy would not be so foolish. As he watched the schematic he saw that two of the hangar elevators were opening on the roof, the sign that his transport and escorts were being raised and readied. Not yet, he thought, his ego taking charge, telling him that this was his home, and he would not be flushed like vermin from his own domicile.
* * *
The next wormhole opened on the roof of the palace. There were really four different levels of roof, depending on the height of the underneath structure of the rambling palace. This was a corner of the highest part, the ten story main building that contained the offices and living quarters of the Emperor and his closest staff, as well as his harem. The roof to the north was on a building that contained the garage, at the lower level, and the hangar at the upper. There were some guards on this roof, as on the others, while the hangar seemed to be swarming with soldiers, some of them the ground crew for the three aircraft that were rising on elevators to launch position. The majority were wearing battle armor, though few had the kind of equipment that would stand up on a battlefield.
As soon as the portal opened, just like below, a swarm of microbots came flying out of the hole. Only these had a different mission. They oriented themselves, located their targets, and took off, this time as a visible cloud discernable by the numbers. The men of the roofs pointed, shouted, and opened fire, particle beams cutting a swath through the bots, dropping tens of thousands of them from the sky to fall like a black rain. But there were too many for beam weapons to take them all out, and more than half reached their targets. The small bots swarmed over the armored men and sparked with energy. Each only produced a tiny amount, but thousands of them on a suit produced enough to short out the mechanisms. Two thirds of the battle suits went down, trapping their wearers in hard alloy boxes with n
o way out.
Another swarm came through, these recon drones, spreading out, shooting through any hole that led inward, burning their way en mass where barriers had been erected. Some thousands made it into the hangar, landing on aircraft, spraying acid onto fans and grabber linkages, disabling the flight capabilities of the craft.
The first men through came out running, shooting down the few remaining men on that rooftop, then sprinting to the retaining walls of the roof, taking up firing positions, and hammering the other still moving enemy with particle beam fire. In less than a minute it was over, and the high ground belonged to the Confederation commandos.
* * *
“It’s clear, my Lord,” came back the com through the wormhole. Two platoons had already gone through this one, the second to the last they would be opening into the palace. The third platoon was lined up behind Watcher and Pandi.
“You ready?” asked Watcher, giving Pandi a look that made her think he was hoping she would respond in the negative.
She looked at her HUD, watching as the two platoons already through fanned out and secured a large area of the primary floor, the one identified as that containing the quarters of the Emperor.
“Let’s do this,” she said, nodding her head, then following her lover through the silver mirror. The memory of the first time she had ever gone through a wormhole came to her as she experienced the disorientation of transport through the strange things. The Universe seemed to stretch out around her, time seemed to stand still, and she had time to relive the memory of when she was faced with the temporal waves that were destroying the very space around her, and both her mining ship and the ship from the future she was exploring. There was no way out, but the wormhole, and despite her terror she had jumped through, forty thousand years into the future. And from there things just got worse, until she became the consort of the man who was going to bring back Galactic civilization.
Deeper and Darker (Deep Dark Well Book 3) Page 31