And I think it’s safe to say we had earned it.
Epilogue 1: The Trouble with Old Friends
“Enemy Battleships are coming around the moon in diamond formation on heading two zero, down axis one five,” Imperial Lieutenant Commander Braxton, the ship’s Tactical Officer, said clinically.
On the screen, a squadron of four old design Battleships came surging around the moon, with a small fleet of lighter warships—some forty or fifty in number—hanging around behind, with most of them cruisers of one classification or another.
“Prepare to bring the ship around, Captain Goddard,” Imperial Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski ordered from his Command Throne.
“Preparing to bring the ship about, aye, Admiral,” the Imperial Captain said professionally.
Janeski watched and waited as the locals, in their pitifully-outdated battleships, moved ever closer.
“I thought they would have had more Battleships here—this is the Sector Capital after all. One would think they might feel the need to defend it,” remarked Captain Goddard casually.
“Intelligence reports estimate they have six Battleships in this system. I expect the other two are preparing to come around and attack our rear while our attention is focused on the four in front,” Rear Admiral Janeski said absently.
Captain Goddard whistled through his teeth. “Only six? I’m almost insulted,” he said with a laugh and then added, “almost.”
“Charge the main cannon and bring us about—smartly now, Captain. The locals seem to be in a hurry, and I aim to assist them on their way,” Janeski ordered, glad that the tedium of the buildup to this particular battle was nearly finished.
“Step lively now, men, and bring the ship about,” Goddard ordered. “Mr. Braxton, charge the main cannon and stand by for targeting instructions.”
Janeski continued to watch the screen with narrowed eyes as the enemy fleet moved with utterly pathetic predictability.
“You realize we can only fire the spinal laser once every five minutes, and that’s if we don’t have to divert power to other things such as…shields or our secondary weaponry,” Goddard reminded him perfunctorily.
“Do you have so little faith, Goddard?” Janeski looked over at him, making little effort to hide his amusement.
“Hardly,” Goddard snorted, “I know better than to bet against you, Admiral. I was just hoping for a hint so I could figure it out first.”
Janeski allowed the barest hint of a smile to cross his lips. “Bring the ship down five degrees and increase acceleration to standard military power. Be ready for exacting course correction changes,” the Imperial Rear Admiral said.
“Helm: prepare to enact the Rear Admiral’s orders directly without relay,” the Imperial Captain said, straightening until nothing was left but a completely professional mask above a perfectly-pressed Imperial officer’s uniform.
Over the next few minutes, Janeski cracked out orders until the ship was exactly where he wanted it in relation to the locals’ aged warships.
“The enemy continues to maintain diamond formation,” reported Lieutenant Commander Braxton.
Janeski waited until the Battleships were well within his range—but still outside the reach of even their most powerful turbo-lasers—and chopped his hand down, “Helm: prepare for my order to slew the ship upward in a five degree arc, pivoting on our center of gravity, on my mark. Tactical: target the lead Battleship and fire as soon as you have a solution,” Janeski said and then waited as his bridge crew carried out his orders with the brutal efficiency of slaughterhouse workers welcoming the latest herd of livestock.
Seconds later, the entire ship thrummed with an awesome power that personified Imperial dominance over the galaxy entire, and a brilliant burst of white light as thick as some light cruisers shot from the nose of the Command Carrier in a straight line.
“Mark!” thundered the Rear Admiral.
A moment after the massive, white laser beam struck the lead Battleship in the enemy formation, the local’s shields collapsed and the beam dug through its weak, duralloy armor.
His cannon dug deep into the innards of what had previously been considered a king of the battlefield, but even as the incredibly powerful spinal laser was collapsing shields and gutting the local Battleship, the nose of Janeski’s Imperial Command Carrier—the most powerful engine of war ever built—moved upward, redirecting the awesome spinal weapon’s path from the first Battleship.
Before the giant laser’s bank of capacitors had emptied its charge, the beam struck the rear Battleship—which had been positioned directly behind the lead Battleship in the diamond formation, making the shot possible.
Before the main cannon had expended its complete charge, the shields of the rear Battleship had also been destroyed and that vessel’s entire bow had been reduced to slag.
“Standard recharge protocol, Captain Goddard,” Janeski instructed professionally. “Full power to shields and secondary weaponry; we’ll only need use whatever extra power is created by cold fusion generators to recharge the main capacitor bank.”
“Standard protocol, aye, sir,” the Imperial Captain agreed.
It was obvious that the commanders of the surviving Battleships were shocked by the devastation Janeski had wrought with the opening shot of the so-called engagement. In an instant, he had destroyed one Battleship and crippled another, taking out half of their primary force before a single Battleship had entered its own combat range.
It was obvious to the Rear Admiral the moment each ship commander understood what had happened, as each of them immediately started to turn and present their broadsides toward the Imperial Command Carrier. Even though they were out of range, by presenting their sides the Command Carrier would have to punch through the most heavily armored parts of their ships to damage them. With his main cannon fired, and their current rate of closure, it must have made sense to them as proper maneuver.
For his part, Janeski just shook his head and sighed, almost feeling sorry for his hapless foes…almost.
“Reduce speed, we’ll coast in from here,” he ordered, and Captain Goddard relayed the order.
As soon as they were within range, the two undamaged Battleships opened up with everything they had. Turbo-lasers slammed into the Command Carrier’s forward shields and, when the Imperial Flagship entered range, every heavy laser studding the two Battleships’ flanks shot out as well.
Between the combined efforts of both ships, the Imperial Carrier’s shields never dipped below 50%. Slowly and majestically, the Imperial Command Carrier glided toward the battleships. Then, when the laws of physics indicated they should, the Carrier passed between the noses of both Battleships. Due to firing their broadsides at him full force they had been unable to, or most likely even think about, maneuvering away.
“Fire all secondary weaponry on both broadsides as soon as you have a targeting solution; instruct the fighter pilots to standby for launch,” Janeski ordered, shaking his head piteously at the lack of initiative from the Commanders of the two Battleships. They never even tried to turn and keep their broadsides toward the Imperial Command Carrier until the broadsides of Janeski’s own ship already had solutions aimed straight down their noses.
“Firing secondary weaponry now,” Lieutenant Commander Braxton said crisply.
Whereas the Command Carrier’s main weapon was more powerful than anything the colonials out here had ever seen or heard of, the secondary weaponry on the Carrier’s broadsides were much more conventional. They were merely 50% more powerful, and could fire an additional 25% further distance than the local Confederation technology. Although, the simple truth was that the provincials weren’t likely to get word of the range improvement—because Imperial gunners rarely ever missed.
As soon as they were within range, the turbo-lasers and heavy lasers of the Command Carrier—each more powerful than their local counterparts—shot out with suffocating power.
A standard Battleship here, in Sector 26, had ar
ound twenty turbo-lasers—ten to a side—and an additional fifty heavy lasers, also divided evenly across the broadsides. The remainder of their weaponry was generally light and medium lasers, used primarily for point defensive purposes.
Janeski’s Command Carrier, the Invictus Rising, had a total of twelve turbo-lasers to a side matched with only twenty heavy lasers, along with the accompanying lighter weaponry, making a Invictus Rising’s secondary weaponry the equivalent of an old style battleship’s main armament.
Thunder and fury smashed into the forward hulls of the enemy Battleships, and while the secondary weaponry wasn’t enough to do to the noses of these ships what the main cannon had done to the other half of their squadron mates, it was enough to punch through their shields. A significant amount of fire slammed into their armor and, precisely as the Imperial Admiral had planned, that fire destroyed more than half of the Battleship’s sensor arrays—their forward facing sensor arrays.
“Launch fighters,” the Admiral ordered, and in those early moments when both Battleships were essentially blind, a stream of Imperial Strike Fighters shot out the sides of the Command Carrier. “Helm: bring us about,” he said after the ready squadrons had been launched from their catapults.
Slowly and majestically, but much faster than any ship its twelve hundred meter-long size had any right to move, the Imperial Command Carrier came about until it was facing the same direction as the local Battleships.
Coming around the other side of the moon were the other two Battleships which Intelligence sources had indicated were within the system.
“Divert all available power to the main capacitor,” Admiral Arnold Janeski decided after a moment’s reflection.
“Diverting power, aye,” said Captain Goddard before relaying the order.
With their sensors degraded and their shields down on the front of the provincials’ ships, the Imperial Strike Fighters were soon running nape of the hull on the Battleships, rapidly firing their ion cannons at anything they could see. With surgical precision, the fighter pilots scraped the enemy hulls of a significant portion of their broadside weaponry while also doing a pleasantly-surprising amount of damage to the enemy’s shield generators. Janeski nodded in silent approval at the ruthless efficiency of his wing commanders.
While the last two of the original four Battleships were struggling to deal with the fighters within their shields, the Command Carrier’s attention had turned squarely on the new arrivals.
“Enemy Battleships are entering attack range now,” said Captain Goddard, “they are turning to present their broadsides.”
“Capacitor has a full charge, Admiral,” Lieutenant-Commander Braxton informed the Admiral with cold professionalism.
“Target the Battleship on the port side, but wait until they can fully present their broadside to us before firing,” Janeski instructed. “Return the capacitors to standard recharge cycle.”
“I understand and will comply, Rear Admiral,” said the Tactical Officer.
The two new Battleships opened up on the Invictus Rising with everything they had, but nothing they did punched through the shields.
“Shields down to 40% and holding, Admiral,” reported Captain Goddard.
“Anytime now, Lieutenant Commander Braxton,” Janeski prompted and moments later the brilliant white beam intersected the local Battleship.
First the shields collapsed, and then Janeski’s spinal laser dug into the thickest hull armor of what used to be called the king of the battlefield. But as these rustics were quickly learning, there were kings and there were titans—and this titan was putting the old kings in their place.
Explosions rocked the Battleship and fusion cores were emergency ejected before the third Battleship to feel the Invictus Rising’s main cannon escaped its powerful attack. At that exact same time, a fleet of Battleships and Cruisers jumped into the edge of the system—precisely on schedule.
They were of local make but broadcasting the Imperial Rear Admiral’s IFF signal, letting everyone know whose fleet they belonged to.
“Three enemy Battleships neutralized, another two are under threat by our fighters, and the final Battleship is about to go one on one with a ship over twice her size and many times her combat power. I believe this particular engagement has reached the proverbial tipping point,” Janeski decided aloud and then turned to the Communications Officer.
“Admiral?” asked the Com-Officer.
“Send a message to the locals informing them I demand their instant and immediate surrender,” Janeski instructed the other man. “Tell them that if they surrender themselves and their ships to me, their home worlds will be spared and allowed autonomous home rule—but remind them that, if they defy me, I will bombard their home worlds from orbit just as I did at Capria Prime fifty years ago. I will then be forced to install an Imperial Governor to rule over them in my stead. They have one minute to comply.”
In the face of their sheer inability and impotence to do even so much as touch his single ship with all their weaponry combined, while at the same time losing their three most powerful warships to his spinal laser and the arrival of a fleet of lesser warships equal to the survivors in their own right, the result of his surrender demand was an almost foregone conclusion.
Within the minute, every Battleship—and most of the Cruisers—which made up the Sector Fleet signaled their surrender. A few Cruisers made a run for it, desperate to return home with news of this crushing defeat, but most of them struck their generators and waited for the inevitable.
The Warlord of the 28th Provisional Sector had, with just one attack, humbled one of the Spineward Sectors’ most powerful Sector Capitols. With Sectors 27 and 28 under his control, and now the heart of resistance in Sector 26 crushed, it was only a matter of time until he ruled the entirety of this Sector as well.
“Another notable achievement, my lord,” Captain Goddard said with a smirk.
“These rustics are so inept,” Janeski shook his head, “it nearly takes the honor out of victory…nearly.”
The two men shared a chuckle. Then the Imperial Rear Admiral’s face turned hard.
“It has taken us far too long subduing this Sector, Goddard. Thanks to the interference of that blasted Governor, instead of subjugating capitols in Sectors 27 and 26, I should have been somewhere in 23 or 24 and moving to end this campaign,” he cursed.
“I hear the Governor wasn’t quite as clueless and inept he pretended to be,” the Imperial Captain said, diplomatically referring to the reason behind the delayed invasion schedule. “He’s even made something of a name for himself, by all accounts.”
“Stealing two Constructors, a Battleship, and our Strike Cruiser set me back almost two years—and now he’s stumbled upon part of our ComStat network. I swear,” Janeski cursed, “you never had the displeasure of meeting the young man, but let me assure you that he is nothing special. He is but another spineless, prancing peacock with the demeanor and greed of a rat, the base cunning of a snake, and the ability to go to ground in whatever nearby spider-hole that’s available when the heat is on.”
“That sounds hard to jive with the intelligence reports,” Goddard said finally. “But if you say it’s so, then I believe you.”
“Oh, I may be doing the Governor a slight disfavor. Very slight,” Janeski said with some heat, “but let me assure you that I will take great joy in crushing whatever ‘fleet’ he has managed to amass. The peacock needs a lesson in respect before his end, and I aim to give him both that lesson and that end!”
“Of course, sir,” said the Imperial Captain.
“It may have been time coming, Goddard, but finally and at long last, the invasion and conquest of Sector 25 will be complete and the last of the old republic will be swept away,” Janeski said coldly.
“We’re with you, Admiral,” Imperial Captain Goddard said grim certainty. “After we’re through with these colonials, they won’t know which way is up.”
“Hmm,” Janeski nodded, still
thinking dark thoughts about that accursed Governor who had caused him no end of trouble. Someday the books would be balanced and, in the Empire of Man, the balancing always favored the Imperials.
Epilogue 2: The Secrets of Man
After they finished securing the Battleships, Janeski turned the job of subjugating the rest of the Star System over to Captain Goddard and headed into his quarters.
Removing his robe, miter, and the rest of his ceremonial garb from his closet, he quickly changed, replacing—or, rather simply, placing—his religious clothing over his uniform.
As soon as he was dressed, he stepped over to his private turbo-lift and instead of indicating which floor he wanted, he pressed in a special code known only to him.
With a smooth motion, the lift took off and after long minutes deposited him at the entry way to a dark cavernous area.
“Greetings, Brothers,” Janeski said, striding into the room. As he did, the path beneath his feel lit up, leading him to the small, empty, pedestal. For a long moment he considered the empty pedestal, knowing that very soon that pedestal would be empty no more. Hidden somewhere within Sector 25 was a giant crystal fragment which had been lost for thousands of years—and he would be the one who would reclaim it.
The others nodded and stood aside as he contemplated the empty pedestal. Two years—two long, empty, extra years spent out here—exiled to this godforsaken corner of known space. And it was all because of that gutless, dandy, fop who decided to grow a spine at just the wrong moment.
But Janeski knew he would soon be able to scratch that particular itch. Already his spies and intelligence networks were close to tracking down the location of that which he desired to find above all others. For in finding it, he would finally be able to take the first step along the path to the Triumverate, and possibly—dare he even think it—an Emperorship.
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