The First Imperium cw-4

by Jay Allan

  The intense pressure from the acceleration made it difficult to concentrate on anything, but Greta forced herself to focus on the plotting screen. It looked like her ships were falling perfectly into position. She knew the AIs would handle the maneuvers with precision, but this mission called for perfect formations, and it was her job to make sure that happened. All the external ordnance bolted onto the bombers was dragging down maneuverability, and if there was a mistake in the calculations, she wanted to catch it immediately.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She really needed another stim to counteract the sluggishness of the pressure equalization drugs, but she was going to wait until they were a little closer to their objective…maybe 30 minutes.

  Another hour, she thought. In another hour we’ll know if the plan worked.

  “All ships…launch.” Erica West sat up in her command chair. The fleet had ceased its acceleration and the relief – plus the double dose of stimulants she’d just taken – cleared her head quickly. The entire fleet was arrayed for launch, and on her command 68 ships flushed their external racks, sending almost 300 missiles hurtling toward the incoming enemy fleet.

  “All vessels report externally mounted ordnance launched.” Athena was simply reporting what West could see on her status board.

  “Prepare to launch internal missiles. All ships to execute on my mark.” Athena was relaying West’s orders to the entire fleet. West worked closely with her staff when she was planning an operation, but they were mostly spectators during the battle itself. At least the early stages…before plans started to fall apart and the improvisation began.

  “Launch first wave.” Unlike the externally mounted weapons, which could be fired all at once, the rate of fire of internal missiles was constrained by the number of launchers available. Ship types had various numbers of reloads, so a fleet firing all its ordnance would do so in successive waves, each of diminishing size as different vessels exhausted their magazines.

  Cambrai shook as her launchers sent 6 missiles toward the enemy fleet. West’s flagship carried 48 missiles internally, so she could launch 8 waves. Princeton, her newest and most powerful capital ship, had 12 launchers, and 120 missiles in her magazines, allowing for 10 full strength volleys. All told, Third Fleet was sending almost 700 thermonuclear weapons toward the enemy.

  “All ships report second wave missiles loaded, admiral.” Athena was coordinating all communications from the fleet to the admiral.

  “Launch second wave.” West leaned back in her chair and lightly gripped the handholds as Cambrai shook again. More missiles on their way to the enemy. This was the biggest attack yet made against one of the enemy’s fleets. But there was no ambush here, no massive edge. She wondered how many of her weapons would get through. Would it be enough?

  “Ok people, get ready for the first drop.” Greta Hurley was sitting bolt upright. The bombers had cut their acceleration two minutes before, and she was out of her cocoon and jacked up on stims. “I want precision work here.”

  Her squadrons were arrayed in four lines, set about five light seconds from each other. The bombers began releasing anti-missile mines, dropping one every 50 seconds. The bombers in each wave were offset from one another so the mines were dispersed to cover an area of approximately 20 cubic light seconds.

  The enemy had launched its missile salvoes, and they were plotted exactly as Admiral West had predicted…and the minefield the bombers laid was right in their path. The mines would detonate when their internal AIs deemed they had the maximum damage potential. They would scatter a field of smaller bombs, each of which would explode, creating a cloud of small projectiles in the path of the incoming missiles. With the velocity of the enemy volley, a chunk of metal the size of a grain of rice was enough to destroy a missile.

  “Waves 1 and 4, prepare for anti-missile runs.” Hurley was in the second wave. Her group and the third line were outfitted for normal anti-ship attacks. The 1 st and 4 th had been armed with shotguns, and reprogrammed for anti-missile runs. It was a new idea…as far as Hurley knew, bombers had never been used this way. But Admiral West knew her ships would take devastating losses from the enemy particle accelerators before they were able to respond with their own lasers…if she was going to have any chance at all she had to win the missile duel. Admiral Clark and his people had stripped away the enemy’s antimatter weapons. Now it was up to Hurley’s detached bombers to weaken the enemy’s barrage of nuclear missiles, lightening the load on Third Fleet’s close in point defense.

  She leaned back in her couch, extending her arm to receive the injections. Her group was going to make a minor vector change and accelerate full all the way down the throat of the enemy. Her boats had the new ECM suites installed, but she had no idea how much protection that would offer against the enemy point defense. Regardless, though, her group was going right at the enemy ships.

  “First and fourth waves decelerating and preparing for missile interception, commander.” It was Jarrod Kynes on the com, her XO and the leader of the anti-missile group. “Good luck to you, Greta.” Kynes’ people had a chance of survival, at least. They could return to the fleet after their runs were complete and, with luck, there would still be someplace to land. But no one was fooling themselves about the casualties Hurley’s group was likely to take. They were going straight into the maw of the beast with nothing to protect them save for an untested ECM suite and the grace of God.

  “Full damage control procedures…all ships.” West was staring intently at her plotting screen. Her multi-layered missile defense had exceeded her most optimistic hopes. The bombers had raked the enemy salvo, destroying missile after missile. Twenty of them got too close to nuclear detonations and were lost, but over 50 had survived. Now they were frantically trying to get out of the path of the incoming enemy fleet. Low on fuel and ordnance, they wouldn’t stand much chance against the enemy’s point defense.

  The incoming missiles passed through the minefield next, and then into the range of the fleet’s ECM. Finally, West’ ships unloaded with the full effect of their own point defense, taking out most of the few missiles that remained. Barely twenty were going to detonate in proximity to the fleet. They could still do a lot of harm, but it could have been much, much worse.

  “All ships report prepared for impact, admiral.” Athena’s steady voice was a welcome touch of calmness to West. Even veteran spacers found it difficult to sit and wait to see if a 500 megaton warhead detonated close enough to vaporize their ship.

  “I want live damage updates, Athena.” West leaned back in her couch, subconsciously bracing for any hits Cambrai might suffer.

  “Yes, admiral.” There was a brief pause before Athena started rattling off updates. “Shenandoah reports extensive damage. Her reactor is out, but Captain Walsh advises she expects to have power restored in 30 minutes.” Another short silence, then: “We’ve lost contact with Quebec, admiral. Scanner reports indicate she was bracketed by multiple detonations.”

  West grimaced. Quebec was a light cruiser, not one of her most powerful ships. But it still hurt to imagine the vessel as a twisted, irradiated wreck holding its place in formation, dead along with its crew. “Keep reporting, Athena.” West wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear every grisly detail, but it was her job to know what was going on with her fleet.

  “Brace for impact.” Cambrai’s central AI made the shipwide announcement. West reached out and grabbed the handholds on her couch just as the vessel began to shake wildly.

  Chapter 25

  Committee Room Combined Powers Excavation Site Carson’s World – Epsilon Eridani IV

  Ivan Norgov had no idea what was happening. He’d heard the alarms, and before he’d been able to find out what was going on, the explosions started. Norgov was a bully, but that didn’t mean he had any real courage. He was the head of the Committee and, as such, he had a responsibility to all of the scientific personnel in the facility. It was a duty he failed to execute.

&
nbsp; Two armored Marines pulled him from his hiding place in one of the storage rooms and brought him to the Committee room. He was shaking with fear, and his legs kept giving out. It didn’t matter – the Marines easily carried him into the room and put him in one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs facing the Committee table. There were at least a dozen more Marines in the room, all wearing jet black fighting suits, and a lone, unarmored figure sitting in the center chair of the Committee table…Norgov’s chair.

  “Welcome, Dr. Norgov.” Friederich Hofstader tried to maintain his poker face, but he was enjoying this whole thing far too much, and a tiny smile forced its way out. “The expression on your face is reason enough for the long journey I have taken.”

  Norgov stared back, his mouth open in amazement. There were several popping sounds as the Marines retracted their helmets. The shocked Russian scientist looked around the room in stunned silence.

  “I’m reminded of an old saying…now how does that one go?” Hofstader leaned back in the plush leather seat. “Oh yes…payback is a bitch.” He stared directly at Norgov and smiled. “Though one could argue that such a phrase is simply common sense now…wouldn’t you say?”

  Norgov tried to speak, but he mostly just stammered an unintelligible babble. He was in shock, unable to form any coherent thoughts. He was also terrified. Being dragged around by armored troops was a new experience for him.

  “Come, come, Ivan…you can do better than that.” Hofstader’s cold stare bored into the Russian’s hapless eyes. “I’ve never been impressed by your scientific ability, but I know you’re literate.” A shadow of anger passed over Hofstader’s face. “Indeed, you were quite talkative when you expelled me from this facility. I thought you’d never shut the hell up then.”

  “Friederich, please.” Norgov spoke slowly. He was shivering and looking down at the floor.

  “I could remind you of how you responded to my own entreaties.” Hofstader was glaring at Norgov, but the Russian continued to look away. “You pompous, miserable piece of shit. You wouldn’t even let Katrina remain on staff.” Hofstader’s voice was getting louder. He had a lot of anger toward Norgov. He’d intended to control it better, but sitting there looking at the whimpering fool his hostility got the better of him.

  “Friederich, you don’t understand.” Norgov was pleading. He looked nervously at the armed Marines lined up along the wall. “I only did what I thought was right.”

  Hofstader stood up and stared at Norgov with withering intensity. “I don’t understand? I don’t understand?” He was trying to get a grip on himself, but his fury was in control now. “Listen to me you arrogant, useless asshole. I was right. Thanks to you we have lost months of research time here. Meanwhile, the beings who built this place have returned. They have returned, and they are massacring every human being they encounter. Colonies have been destroyed. Thousands of military personnel have died. Better people than you are being killed every day, and for months we have failed to exploit my discoveries here while you played your political games.”

  Norgov was silent, slumped miserably in his chair. He tried to respond, tried to look up and meet Hofstader’s gaze, but he didn’t have the strength to do it. He stared at the floor, tears running down his face.

  Hofstader looked at the pathetic creature with disgust. Norgov wasn’t worth his time…he realized that. He had important work to do here. He was as much a part of the war effort as the Marines on the front lines…and those men and women were counting on him to get them something they could use in the fight. He laid a small ‘pad on the Committee table. “This document is signed by Fleet Admiral Garret, General Holm, and Roderick Vance. I appoints me military governor of Epsilon Eridani IV, with full and sole executive power.”

  Hofstader looked down at Norgov, but the Russian didn’t say anything. “Where are my manners? I’d like to introduce you to Major Hank Taylor, from the Martian Confederation.” He pointed toward one of the Marines. “Major Taylor and his Marines are here to enforce my authority over this facility. You will note that the document appoints me military governor over this entire planet. This research operation is now under my sole and complete control.”

  He walked around the end of the table, still staring at the hapless Norgov. “You are to be expelled from this facility. You and every scientist here who cares more about politics and petty power struggles than unlocking the scientific mysteries on this planet. You will all be held in custody until a ship can arrive to return you to Earth.” Hofstader’s eyes narrowed, and he stared into Norgov’s. “Though I have authorized Major Taylor to shoot you if you cause any trouble.”

  “Brad, I’m glad to see you.” Hofstader smiled as Bradley Travers walked into the room. “I think I owe you for a little behind the scenes help.” Hofstader didn’t know for sure that Travers worked for Roderick Vance’s intelligence outfit, but he’d gotten a pretty good idea there was more than a passing relationship between the two.

  “It’s good to have you back, Friederich.” Travers walked across the room and extended his hand. “You had no idea how right you were about the urgency of this research project. Maybe we can get something done now. Something that might help in the fight.”

  Hofstader shook Travers’ hand. “We’d better. I haven’t seen the enemy in action, but I’ve been through enough video and spare parts to keep me up nights.” He paused. “And I’ve talked to some of the people who have faced them.” He looked right at Travers, his expression grim. “If we’re going to win this fight…survive this fight…we’re going to have to find something useful here.”

  Travers nodded. “Have you sent for everyone you need?”

  Hofstader nodded. “Yes, Mr. Vance was kind enough to lend me one of his Torch transports. They should be here shortly, hopefully within a week.” Hofstader had put together a list of scientists…his choices, not the selections of political cronies. He’d always hated the political games that suffocated academia, and his feelings were only compounded when he saw Garret and Holm and their people in action. For the first time he saw what could be achieved by the best people working together with no agenda but success. He was going to emulate that on Carson’s World. He had to. For all the effort and courage of the troops fighting the war, Hofstader knew in his gut they didn’t stand a chance. Not unless he could unlock some of this technology.

  Chapter 26

  Battle of Farpoint Phase 2 – Ground Assault Iron Gate Valley, North of Landing Farpoint - Epsilon Fornacis III

  Cain sat quietly, nursing a headache and paging through the OB for I Corps. He had some first class troops under his command; that much he knew for sure. But it was a ramshackle organization, thrown together from whatever forces could be assembled.

  He had half of 1 st Division, mostly 2 nd Brigade plus some of the support units. The rest of the division had fought under Teller on Cornwall. Most of them were dead, and the rest were regrouping on Armstrong. Cain suspected it would be a considerable time before the brigade would be combat ready again, if ever. Fighting this enemy seemed to affect even veteran Marines in a way he’d never seen before. The engaged units had suffered a considerable amount of psychological distress and battle fatigue among the survivors.

  Cain himself had recruited 2d Brigade’s CO back into the service. James Prescott had been drawn deeply into the rebellion on his adopted world of Victoria, something he’d thought marked the end of his Marine career. But the Corps ultimately declared for the rebels, and when General Cain offered the Canadian officer a pair of eagles and the command of one of his brigades, he gratefully accepted.

  Jax was Prescott’s immediate superior, which worked out well. Both Cain and Jax trusted Prescott to work without a lot of supervision, and that freed up Jax’s time. The big Marine was wearing two hats, commanding 1 st Division and serving as I Corps’ XO. Darius Jax was Cain’s oldest and closest friend. The two had been through hell and back together…several times. For the first time in a very long time, Erik felt he needed someone to
lean on, to back him up and help him get through the fight that was coming. For him, that was Jax.

  I Corps had half of 2 nd Division as well. Erik had first met Angus Frasier on Carson’s World, when the stubborn Scot drove his regiment of Highlanders through the enemy lines to relieve Cain’s 1 st Brigade on the blood-soaked Lysandra Plateau. When General Holm asked Cain his opinion on a commander for 2 nd Division, Cain gave him one name…Frasier’s.

  Frasier’s force was a mixed bag. Units like the reformed Highland Regiment were crack troops by anyone’s measure, but the division had a significant number of green formations as well. They’d left the completely raw 4 th Brigade on Armstrong to continue training under General Gilson, but there had been no way to field even a single brigade without including some inexperienced personnel.

  Erik had a few unfamiliar units rounding out I Corps. Linus Wagner’s regiment of Martian Marines had landed the week before, courtesy of Roderick Vance. Cain had never seen the Confeds in action, but he knew they were elite troops…and the Martian weapons and equipment were second to none.

  He had less welcome reinforcements too. Tac-commander Farooq and his Janissaries had arrived two weeks earlier. Erik understood what was at stake, and he knew the Alliance couldn’t hope to win this war alone…but that didn’t make it any easier for him to accept his old enemies as friends. Farooq had been courteous and respectful, and he’d placed himself unreservedly under Cain’s command. But Erik still didn’t like it. Working with the Janissaries felt wrong…somehow disloyal to the thousands of his men and women who’d died at their hands. And he didn’t care how much talk there was about joining forces and facing the common enemy – he just didn’t trust them.