* * *
“May the Gods curse them,” screamed the high admiral at the top of his lungs. A moment before he had still possessed five wormholes. Now he had two. What the hell possessed those damned fighters to launch into my command ships? They had come in on a vector that took them into the center of his formation, launching into his largest vessels and taking out over two hundred of them, including three of the wormhole bearers. Over three hundred of the craft had flown through his formation. Four had collided with some of his ships, their warp field ripping apart matter and destroying two scouts, while damaging a cruiser and a capital ship. Seven more had fallen to lucky hits by counters or close in weapons. It was not a fair return to his mind, and more ships had been damaged by the shifting warp fields of the maneuvering fighters.
His command was now packed together for mutual defense, despite the danger of the weapons launched from the inertialess fighters. Right now the warp ships were the concern, and the tighter his fleet was packed, the more chance they had of killing some on the next pass.
“We’re picking up inertialess ships, my Lord. They’re close. Very close.”
The high admiral cursed again. They could tell that they were close from the resonances that rebounded through hyperspace, and when they were close enough they could get a general bearing. What they couldn’t do was tell exactly where they were.
“Order dispersal,” yelled the high admiral, hoping he was in time. “Fire all close in weapons on the predicted bearing.”
Suddenly the pentaton explosives started flaring inside the fleet. Ships started falling off the plot by the dozens with each blast. They were so close that no blast hit less than three ships.
The high admiral watched in horror as his fleet was gutted by the attack. He had made a mistake. The warp fighters had panicked him, and he had shifted into just the type of formation that the inertialess craft and their powerful new weapons could take advantage of. His last thought was that he had failed. His fleet would die in this system. He, of course, never saw the blast that went off two hundred meters from the port side of his ship, turning it into a mass of plasma as it fell apart and antimatter breached.
Moments later the wormhole launched missiles of the two smaller human forces arrived. At just the right moment to cause maximum damage, taking advantage of the total confusion in the Ca’cadasan ranks. The battle would continue for another day, with maneuver and counter-maneuver. But for all intents and purposes the Empire had won the fight, though the dying would continue for longer than that last day of battle.
* * *
Commodore Ivan Stendanko watched helplessly as the remaining missiles of the first wave came slashing through the defenses. Almost eight thousand weapons, the remains of the quarter of million missiles in the original launch, closed with the ships and defensive platforms in front of the planet. Counter missiles, lasers and close in weapons slashed them from space by the hundreds. Some crashed into the debris that was placed as a barrier, others hit orbiting factories, and two of the space docks went up in blasts of fury. And when it was over the planet had survived. All seemed well, except that the second wave was only thirty seconds behind, and there were still twenty thousand in that group.
The defenders fought hard to prevent strikes to the planet. Every ship, every defensive platform went up in plasma as they performed their last duty, planned or not, and interposed themselves between planet and missiles. The commodore watched as every object in orbit was destroyed. He never saw the hits to the planet, a mercy, as the fortress was hit by eleven missiles within less than a second. It died, and kept those almost a dozen missiles from hitting the planet. It didn’t prevent the twenty-three that made it through from hitting the world at relativistic speeds.
Four missiles hit the smallish southern continent. Waves of fire swept over the four million square kilometers of woods and grasslands, wiping out every living thing down to the microbes. Seventy-nine million people were sheltered, many in the strong battleship capsules, millions more in makeshift structures. It didn’t matter, as the huge craters gouged out millions of cubic kilometers, and seismic waves took out every other structure, surface and sub, on the continent. Magma flew high into the sky at the four impact points, and molten rock would flow for years across the landscape.
Three missiles hit the west coast of the largest continent in the northern hemisphere. Another seven million square kilometers were obliterated, another three hundred million people were killed. Another huge area became a moonscape of molten rock. The rest of the weapons came down in the great ocean separating eastern and western continents. They blasted through water and crust with equal ease, generating seismic waves ten kilometers in height that moved out from the impact areas at many times the speed of sound. As on the land, magma spewed up to the edge of the atmosphere, while columns of superheated steam rose along the sides, keeping the ocean from returning.
Almost four hundred million died, but due to good fortune, over sixteen hundred million survived. The planet was dead, but most of the population had survived, and the world would live again, thanks to the biological samples that had been gathered of all the life forms of the body.
* * *
The losses had been heavier than hoped. Lenkowski looked at the final figures as his ship prepared to go back through the gate to the next rally point. The Caca fleet had been totally destroyed. There had been some few ships who had surrendered. They had found that not all of the big aliens were so willing to die in a battle that had already been lost.
They had accomplished their mission, partially. They had destroyed the enemy fleet but had not saved the planet. On the other hand most of the human population of that planet had survived, and would continue to survive as food and supplies were brought in for them. The left wing of the Cacas had been defeated utterly, but the final section, the body, was still forging ahead. And now it was time to confront that body and destroy it as well.
Len looked over the reinforcements that would be awaiting him. His fleet would be brought back up to greater strength than it had entered this battle with. He would have Crakista and Elysium fleets added to his force, and over five hundred wormholes. And more of the fighters.
We’re going to leave you behind, old girl, thought the admiral as he patted the arm of his command chair. It was still a new ship, less than two years in service. And the new fighter and their tactics had already rendered it all but obsolete. And when the Cacas got more of the inertialess fighters, and developed the tactics to use them effectively? When they started building their own warp fighters. Then battles within systems would change forever.
You’ll still be useful in hyper, thought the admiral, thinking that the super heavy battleship might not be so obsolete after all. Inertialess and warp fighters were useless in hyper, at least so far. They couldn’t keep up, so even if they carried missiles capable of jumping dimensions, they would rarely get a chance to fire.
“Meeting in one hour,” said the admiral into the com before he got up from his chair and headed for the hatch. He didn’t have time to think of what might be in the years to come. He had a battle to fight, and this time he needed to use his wits to take all the advantages away from the enemy.
Chapter Fourteen
If you love life, don't waste time, for time is what life is made up of. Bruce Lee
“There seems to be nothing here but a small system defense force, my Lord,” said the tactical officer.
The force commander, a male who would be looking at admiral’s rank sometime in the future, if he survived, gave a head motion of acknowledgement. He hadn’t been looking forward to ranging ahead of the rest of the fleet with such a small force. True, he had forty battleships, fifty-one cruisers and a hundred and seven scouts, a total of one hundred and ninety-eight warships, but this campaign was seeing thousands of ships meeting in single star systems to battle it out to the death. His force was much too small to survive against a major force. But the great admiral had decided that
something needed to be done to confuse the enemy, and possibly take out a major system before they could reinforce it. And it looked like the great admiral had made a wise decision.
“Force near the planet seems to consist of a single of their large cruisers, three of the smaller class, and nine escorts. We are also picking up a trio of forts in orbit around the world.”
The forts were not a concern. They had limited mobility, and a volley of missiles would take them out. They were an idea whose time had come and gone, and it seemed stupid that both sides still used them. The defense force was pathetic in its weakness, and would be brushed aside without a concern. But the whole setup set off alarms in the commander. There might be more ships in this system, lying doggo, powered down and waiting. The safest thing to do would be to fire missiles from out here and just blast the planet. But the commander was a true believer in the ecological religion that had arose when alien invaders almost rendered the homeworld lifeless, and it was against that religion to kill living worlds. The Emperor had issued a special dispensation against worlds with mostly human ecosystems, so called terraformed planets, which were already seen as blasphemy by most Ca’cadasans. He wasn’t sure if this was one of those.
“Set us onto a least time course to the planet. We will see what they have there, then pound their cities and installations into dust from space. Leave a scout group out here to observe and report back.” He didn’t have to add that the group would jump out if the rest of his force was destroyed, to report that he had failed in his mission.
Eight scouts remained behind, decelerating so they could get back beyond the barrier, while the remaining one hundred and ninety ships of the force accelerated inward. It would take them about thirty-seven hours to come to a rest near the planet orbiting the K class star.
* * *
“You will defend us,” shouted Governor Johannes Paulus into the com.
Captain Searcy McTavish wasn’t sure if the man was shouting a question or an order. Either way, she had her orders, and they weren’t to get her command blown out of space for no positive result. Then again, if this enemy took them under fire from range they wouldn’t survive the missile storm. Not even her own ship, the heavy cruiser New Lancaster, her largest unit. And next to nothing compared to two score twenty-five million ton monsters heading her way.
We’re going to die anyway, she thought. Might as well die trying to save some of the civilians. There was a chance that the Cacas wouldn’t fire on the world, and they might be able to get some licks in when they closed. If they bugged out they would present a target the enemy wouldn’t fail to engage, and then they would be dead for sure.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know if anything was coming to their aid. She didn’t have one of the scarce wormholes, not even a single one of the aliens the Empire had discovered that would have allowed them instantaneous com back to headquarters.
“We will try to defend your world as long as we can, Governor,” she said to the frightened face in the holo. “I would suggest that you get everyone you can into your shelters, and prepare your defenses.”
She didn’t think that would do much. If the Cacas didn’t hit them with missiles, they would come in and pound them from close in with kinetics. They might just do both, since the shelters could survive a planetary missile strike, if it didn’t come down on top of them. But the best shelter made couldn’t take multiple heavy kinetic hits. And then the Cacas would land to make sure every human was dead. The system should have had a larger defense force, though even the one that had been here until recently wouldn’t have stood up to this group. And the wormhole gate that was supposed to have been installed here had found other duties, so there would not be any reinforcements through it, or any evacuation.
“We’ll do what we can, but you know we’re dead if you don’t stop them. I don’t want to be slaughtered like a steer and processed into rations for the bastards.”
“Understood,” said McTavish, nodding. She terminated the connection, not wanting to stare at yet another terrified face when she could see the same thing in the mirror. She stared at the space where the holo had projected for a moment, thinking about the short fight to come. She didn’t want to be here. Her husband was a civilian, and he was looking after their three children, on a world on the border with the Empire. About as safe as could be at the moment. Those billions of people on the surface were not as safe as could be. Mothers and fathers would be telling their children that everything would be alright, as they led them into the shelters that would become their tombs.
“Order all ships to form a defensive screen between the Cacas and the planet,” she told her com officer, seeing the fear on that man’s face. She could smell the type of sweat that came from terrified men and women. They knew they were going to die, even if they took an equal mass of enemy ships with them, the best-case scenario. Taking the bastards with them sounded all well and good in the entertainment vids, or novels. It didn’t sound quite so inspiring when they were actually facing a situation like it in real life.
“All commanders acknowledge,” said the com officer, his voice hushed.
“I think we have some time before we’re actually in combat,” McTavish said to the bridge crew. “Send first shift to meals and rest.”
She wondered how many would be able to eat, how many to sleep? She doubted there would be many, and she wouldn’t be one of those fortunate enough to sleep.
* * *
“Preparing to jump to normal space, Captain,” came the voice over the com.
“We’re ready to go whenever you give us the word,” said the wing commander, Captain Kinsey Landruff, sitting in the cockpit of her warp fighter.
Her wing was hangered on two fleet carriers, hyper VII warships in the ten million ton range. Not heavily armed or armored, their entire purpose was to take smaller combat craft between the stars. In this case they would be dropping into normal space just inside the hyper III barrier, while they were in hyper II. Since the carriers were moving at point three light so they could jump all the way in, the fighters could actually cover the distance faster in normal space at a pseudospeed of twenty lights, well above the hyperspace equivalent speed of eleven point six c.
“Making final jump, now,” called out the bridge.
The translation nausea hit, then left, and immediately the hangar doors opened ahead of the warp craft, leaving their egress open to space.
“Take her out,” the captain ordered the pilot, who eased the ship into the void, eighteen light hours out from the planet they had come to save.
The ships to either side slid out at the same time, moving until they had some separation from the carrier, then spreading out. The rest of the wing was egressing through other hatches, or coming out behind them, until all four of the squadrons plus her command wing were out and moving toward the target world. Another four squadrons came out of the other carrier, and soon one hundred and fourteen of the advanced attack craft were in space. Landruff wished she had more, but this was all command was willing to give her for this mission. Still, they were something the Cacas didn’t know how to deal with, yet, so it should be enough.
“All ships. Go to the heading on your navigation consoles at warp twenty. Repeat. Ordered heading at warp twenty. We will decide on our attack profile when we arrive. Landruff out.
“Take her up to twenty, Mac,” she ordered the pilot. “Let’s let the Cacas know that they are not alone.”
In seconds all of the ships were moving into the system with warp drives at full. The ships were spread out so that no one was in danger of entering the warp field of another. Early tests had shown that it was not a good idea, since one or both ships often came apart from the stress.
The Cacas would not be able to track them until they reached about four light hours range. They would cover the eighteen light hours in fifty-four minutes, the last four in twelve. They could commit to battle or not at the end of that span, while the Cacas had no choice, since it would take th
em at least a couple of hours to stop before they could head back out to the barrier.
* * *
“My Lord. We are picking up human ships moving in hyper VII on a heading for the system.”
“Well, what are they?” asked the commander, impatient that the male was, to his mind, withholding information.
“Estimating two capital ships, six of their cruiser class and ten escorts.”
The commander felt himself relaxing. That was not enough of a force to threaten his. If they came into the system he would blow them apart, even if they happened to have some of their wormhole weapons aboard. Unless it was just the scout group for a larger force.
He followed the force through the dimensions until they had almost reached the hyper III barrier, then jumped into normal space.
“Why, by all the Gods, would they jump into normal space that far out?” he asked his tactical officer.
“I don’t know, my Lord. Unless they wanted to get a look at the system before they came on.”
“Fourteen hours out?” asked the commander with a huff. “They can’t be that stupid. Even if they have wormholes, it would still take about fifteen hours to get their missiles in.”
“It makes no sense, my Lord. I cannot guess their purpose.”
The force continued inward, accelerating at five hundred and twenty-five gravities. They would start decelerating just before the halfway point, taking into account the velocity they had already brought into the system. Forty-five minutes after picking up the translations of the Imperial force into normal space they found out why those ships had dropped out that far from the star.
“There are one hundred and fourteen of them, my Lord. Estimating that they are traveling at twenty times light speed.”
That fast, thought the commander, a sense of panic coming over him. Of course they really weren’t going that fast, but the effect of the warp was as if they were. He had been briefed about these things, the newest technological trick the humans had come up with. He had been assured that his side would have the same ships, eventually. Eventually didn’t help on this campaign.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 12: Time Strike Page 19