Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4)

by Doug Dandridge

The shuttle docked with one of those ships, the lead of the pair. The three thousand man crew, mostly volunteers from Exploration Command, was represented on the deck by the senior officers and Marines, standing at attention.

  “Commodore,” said the Emperor, returning the salute of the woman who wore the ship and globe emblem of Exploration Command.

  “Your Majesty,” replied the woman, taking his hand.

  “I know this is sudden, but we really need this contact, no matter the risk.”

  Commodore Natansha Sung nodded her head. Sean knew she had been briefed. While a trip to the core could be dangerous, hell, probably was extremely dangerous, at least they would not be trying to avoid the forces of a known unfriendly power, with a meeting with another star empire they had no inkling of. It could greet them as friends. Or it could be completely xenophobic, and see them as more intruders to be destroyed. They would not know until they reached the space of that unnamed power.

  “How many people have you lost since the news came down?” he asked next. This was a volunteer crew, and they had volunteered for a specific mission. None would be forced to go on the revised mission, and would be replaced by volunteers from the other ships if need be.

  “None, your Majesty,” said the Commodore, gesturing toward the exit from the hanger.

  The interior of the ship was enormous, and included hydroponic gardens and protein vats for feeding the crew, and almost any form of indoor recreation imaginable. And the wormhole would allow them unprecedented com with home, communications with friends and family a daily possibility.

  The bridge was just as impressive as everything else, large and spacious, with state of the art sensor feeds and holo projectors. And if these ships hadn’t already been near completion when the Cacas struck, they never would have been built. But they had been built, and he didn’t see any reason not to use them. If worse came to worse, they might be able to send citizens through the wormholes to the other side of the Galaxy, or to the cloud. Maybe not that many, in comparison to the total population of the empire. Ten thousand, a hundred thousand, maybe even a few million. But enough to keep the species going.

  Sean left the ship feeling a little better about the chances of his Empire. All of the ships would leave on their journeys within the next week. Some to find possible havens for the species, others to hopefully make new friends and allies.

  *

  SECTOR IV SPACE, DECEMBER 27TH, 1000.

  “We’re picking up a large force moving in VII,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “How large?” asked Mei, looking up from the flat comp she was using to sign her name to some paperwork.

  “Really big, ma’am,” said the officer, looking away from her board with wide eyes. “At least a thousand. At least four hundred of their big ships.”

  “Get that information to HQ,” said the Commodore, looking over at her Com Officer. “Heading?” she asked, looking back over at the Sensory Officer, and hoping that the track was not heading directly at them.

  The holo came to life, showing the tracks of the enemy force with vector arrows and velocities. It was the largest force she had ever seen from this foe, with more arrows moving onto the holo every moment.

  “They are heading parallel to our course,” called out the Sensor Officer, at the same time that Mei figured that for herself from the vector arrows.

  “Orders from Battle Fleet, ma’am,” said the Com Officer. “We are to follow this force, keeping them within contact and transmitting their deployment.”

  “Anything else?”

  The holo flared to life in front of the Commodore, showing the image of Grand High Admiral Lenkowski. “Sting them, Commodore. However you can, harass them, both going in and coming out. And keep an eye out for any other forces they may try to bring in. I think they are going to try and force an engagement by going after something valuable, and make us react. I’m not sure how much good your force will be following them, but maybe you’ll be in a position to strike, even if only at crippled ships.”

  Mei looked at the main holo, at the force she was to follow, and what she had to do it with. Along with her battle cruiser were four others, as well as seven light cruisers and nine destroyers. They couldn’t outrun that force if it were headed after them, and they definitely couldn’t outfight it.

  “Will we receive any reinforcements, sir?” was her next question.

  “I am ordering two scout groups under the command of Captain von Rittersdorf to join with you as soon as possible.”

  “Maurice,” said the Commodore with a smile.

  “You know him?”

  “He took the Emperor off my ship and to safety when we got him out of Massadara,” said Mei. “And how many ships does he have?”

  “Only five, I’m afraid,” said the Admiral, looking off the holo at something else that was demanding his attention. He looked back at her for a moment. “Keep the information coming. You have another of the experimental BCs with you I understand.”

  “Yes, sir. Wish I had more.”

  “We all do. Try to use them to hit them hard. Lenkowski out.”

  The holo went dead, and the Commodore found herself again staring at the 3D tactical plot that showed her relation to the enemy force, which had continued to grow until there were at least two thousand ships in it.

  They tracked the ships for the next five hours, building up their own velocity, but never able to get near the point nine five c of the enemy ships. At that point a dozen enemy ships started to vector out toward them, probably with the intent of driving her off. They counted four supercruisers and eight of the scouts, enough to beat them in a missile engagement if they were all normal Imperial hyper VII ships. As soon as they got within engagement range Mei unleashed her two experimental ships and flooded space with thousands of missiles. A supercruiser and six scouts made it through that wave, but not through the next, and none of her other ships had to waste one of their limited weapons.

  Six hours later another sortie came out of the pack, a little larger than the last. And the result was the same, a trio of ships limping back to the force, while Mei looked at the holo that showed her command reduced by a light cruiser and two destroyers.

  “They have to know something is going on,” said the Commodore’s flag lieutenant. “We’ve already fired enough missiles for a major task force, and they have to know we’re lightly armed scouts.”

  “They had to find out sooner or later,” said the Commodore, watching as the first ships of the enemy force disappeared from her plot, and the last line of vessels appeared. Thirty-five hundred of the bastards, enough to gut our fleet in a full engagement. If only we had more ships like this. But even so, could we supply them with the weight of missiles we would need?

  Several hours later her earlier losses were made good as von Rittersdorf’s command came up, or really allowed her scouting force to catch up. It gave her five more light units, one of them equipped with wormhole com.

  “Good to see you again, Maurice,” she said the Captain over the holo. “We always seem to come in on the edge of a disaster.”

  “Must be karma, ma’am,” replied the young officer. “Though I really can’t imagine what I did in a past life to warrant this kind of treatment. What are your orders?”

  “Just keep it in tight, Captain. We don’t have the force to attack. We’re the sharks. Anything that straggles or comes out of the group injured is ours.”

  “That doesn’t seem like enough,” said von Rittersdorf, frowning. “It looks to me like they’re going to hit a Core world. And there are other groups on the move.”

  “Admiral Lenkowski believes they are trying to force an engagement with the main fleet,” said Mei, looking at the wider area plot that showed two smaller formations on parallel courses to the one they were following. Both were much smaller, but still big enough to cause major problems if they got to where they were heading.

  “So, what’s the old man going to do?” asked Maurice.


  “Unfortunately, he didn’t apprise me of his intentions,” said Mei with a smile. “I’m not even sure he knows what he is going to do yet. I do know he is under orders to keep his fleet in existence. And a major engagement with this enemy is surely at odds with those orders.”

  “So we just act as his eyes and ears, watch, but don’t touch?”

  “That about sums it up,” said Mei, looking at the regional plot. “I think I have another job for you, now that I’ve looked over the situation.”

  “Whatever you want, ma’am.”

  “Move your force ten light years to my rear. I want you to be on the lookout for anything that might try to sneak up on us and box us in.”

  “Anything else, ma’am?”

  “Yeah. If you happen to see a courier going either way between their forces, take it out.”

  The holo went blank and Mei found herself staring at the plot again, wondering if Cimmeria was due to have hell visited upon it, or if some other unlucky system would be the recipient.

  Chapter Twelve

  Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome. Isaac Asimov.

  SECTOR IV SPACE EN ROUTE TO CIMMERIA, DECEMBER 27TH THROUGH 29TH, 1000.

  Jana Gorbachev felt complete and utter helplessness as she looked at the holo that showed the enemy fleet in motion. In motion into the heart of her Empire, to strike at the production centers. It’s happening too fast, she thought. It had been hoped that they could keep any enemy in the outer sectors for years, if such ever struck. Now, less than a year after first contact, the enemy was taking the fight to the population centers. From what she understood of the Ca’cadasans this was new behavior for them. They had gathered their empire through a slow but sure process, overrunning one species, or at most several, then consolidating, then moving on years, even decades, later.

  But they’ve never run into an animal like us, she thought with some pride through the trepidation. While not as large as the Ca’cadasan Empire, they were a mighty force, only slightly behind the aliens in technology. But still not completely there. She had thought about the problem, having little to do with her time besides think. She had always been a student of history, especially military history. This was not really a situation like the Americans against the Spanish in Manila Harbor. In that engagement it was an ironclad fleet against wooden ships, a one way slaughter. This was closer to a battle between the German High Seas Fleet of WWI versus the American Pacific Fleet of WWII. Four smaller, lighter battleships could still destroy the bigger, more advanced version, but they would lose three, possibly all four, in the action.

  And we’ve got the wormholes, she thought with a smile. That has to be worth something, if someone smart is in charge. Like Sean? Which seemed very likely from what she had heard. New prisoners had talked of the coronation of a new Monarch, the son of the old, and Sean was the only one she knew that fit that description. He was headstrong and impulsive, but no one would call him stupid.

  She looked over at the Great Admiral, who was personally commanding this sortie. She remembered how mad he had been when he discovered she was holding out on him about the Donut. She still shook from the memory of the pain she had endured before she finally gave up and told him what he wanted to know. Or at least most of it. She had exaggerated the mass of the black hole, moving the hyper limit from sixty light hours to seventy. Even a long range missile attack from the edge of the limit would take over eighty hours to reach the station. And she had told him that the station could call defenses through from other systems with the wormhole gates. She didn’t know if that were technically true, but it seemed reasonable. So he decided it was not yet time to strike at our wormhole generating facility.

  Another Cacada looked at her, anger in his eyes. The Intelligence Chief, who did not believe the humans could build such a thing as a wormhole generator. Not if his kind couldn’t. The Great Admiral had been smarter. She cursed him under her breath, trying to figure to a way to kill him. He was the smartest of the Ca’cadasans she had met, and she was sure it would really hurt their war effort if he weren’t around, but removing him was something she couldn’t think of how to accomplish. He had pointed out that they could do such a thing, if they had taken the time to do it. Fortunately for the New Terran Empire there was no quick fix to come up with a wormhole generator. Nothing but decades, possibly a century of work would get one for their Empire.

  Unless they can capture ours, she thought, remembering how that had been discussed, then rejected. But if they did, the humans would not have a chance in this war. The best thing that can happen would be for this ship to be destroyed in the coming battle, and the Admiral with it. Not that I want to die, but it would end this nightmare existence at the very least.

  Another human walked onto the deck and bowed low to the Intelligence Chief. She glared at the human who willingly served the enemy, raised to that servitude and not knowing any better. But still a traitor to the race by her reckoning. And someone else whose neck the former chief petty officer would like to wrap her hands around. She had killed her consort, the one forced on her by her captors, with her bare hands, and found that the humans raised by the Cacas were not genetically enhanced, not as strong or quick as the stock of the Empire.

  “Thirty-nine hours to target,” called out the Navigation Officer.

  “Any sign of their fleet?” asked the Great Admiral, looking at the holo that showed only the Ca’cadasan Fleet, and the scout force that was shadowing them.

  Jana looked at the holo, hoping that no one observed her interest and came to question her. There were the icons of a cluster of hyper VII ships from her own Empire, shadowing the Ca’cadasans.

  “Just the skulkers who follow us,” said the Tactical Officer. “Should I dispatch more ships to chase them off?”

  “To what purpose,” said the Admiral in a growl. “Everything we have sent after them has been taken out by those damned impossible scout capital ships and their swarms of missiles.”

  “But surely they are out by now. Those ships could not have carried more than they have already expended.”

  “Not if they were firing them through a wormhole,” said the Great Admiral, looking at Gorbachev.

  That’s it, asshole, thought Gorbachev. Imagine wormhole bogeymen in every shadow. Imagine great wizards pulling demons from holes in space to bedevil you. Anything to make this enemy unsure of himself.

  “I can’t wait to get back to the Massadara system,” said one of the bridge officers to another in a soft voice, too low for the Great Admiral to hear. But not for her sharp hearing, and more food or thought.

  They bring their females to our space. They are coming to stay. Gorbachev sat and thought of all that had passed on the bridge this day. I’ve got to get back to the Fleet, she thought. Somehow. Anyhow. But how? And that was the one answer that still eluded her.

  *

  The battleship slid from out of hyper, sending a signal through subspace as soon as she entered, along with graviton pulses from her hyperdrive projectors. The pulses would reach the ships and forts in orbit in seconds, the subspace transmissions in a little under a half an hour. The pulses would tell the ships that hell was heading their way, while the more information rich com to follow would tell them what form it would take.

  A dozen more ships jumped into normal space, and three of them started to accelerate into the system. More ships came into normal space, until there were a hundred of them, all decelerating so they could come to a stop and move back out of the system.

  “Make sure that wormhole gets brought down to the planet, as soon as possible,” said the Admiral in charge of the force. “Then beat it out of there.”

  “You sure you don’t want us to stick around, sir?” asked the Captain of that ship. “They’re going to need all the firepower they can get.”

  “And we’re going to need all the ships we can keep,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda, shaking his head and feeling a little bit guilty a
bout the orders he was following. But the orders had come from the Emperor himself, through Grand High Admiral Lenkowski. It was thought that the enemy was trying to bring them to engagement, to gut the fleet, and that could not be allowed to happen. Not that they wouldn’t hurt this enemy some, and hopefully more than some.

  Mgonda looked on his holo at the system in question, Cimmeria. The outer planet was a natural, sitting near the edge of the F4 star’s life zone, cold, with glaciers covering half the land masses. Cimmeria was the home to shaggy mammal like animals, and the large tropical regions were more of a temperate zone. Four billion people lived on that planet. Live, loved, and worked. There were shipyards in orbit, mostly concerned with the making of freighters and liners. But freighters and liners would also be needed in this war.

  A military space dock and five forts, two enormous class ones and three class twos, sat above the planet. Mgonda always thought the forts a waste, resources that could have been put into building and crewing more warships. But they made the members of Parliament feel better, because they thought they made the people feel better. And so there they were, sitting targets for long range missile engagements.

  Around the other side of the star was Aquilonia, sitting in the middle of the life zone and a perfect home for man. It was a terraformed world, using the life of Epsilon Iridani, one of the old Earth colonies of pre-Exodus days, the genetic code of its life transported to a new world and planted, so that mankind could enjoy the variety of its living forms. Three billion called it home, and it was more of an agricultural world than its system mate. It still had a quartet of forts in orbit, as well as factory complexes that made some the parts used by the Cimmeria’s docks to assemble ships.

  Inward from the planets, close to the white star, were the antimatter production sats, a hundred of them, with thousands square kilometers each of energy gathering surface. The system was not a major producer of antimatter, but did contribute its share to the cause. Several AM tankers were filling at the moment, preparing to take finished product to the scores of newly made vessels in the orbit of Cimmeria.