“Estimating that whatever is going to hit will be here in four minutes,” called out the ship’s captain.
Bennington nodded. He knew better than to order the captain to leave. First on, last off was the tradition of the Fleet. And no captain would abandon his ship while anyone else was still aboard.
When the photon wave hit it wasn’t immediate destruction for the warships. The transports were still in orbit, trying their best to recover the shuttles on a continuous chain, trying to get their charges off the surface. Two were immediately destroyed, the wave of heat blasting through their weaker electromagnetic fields and armor in seconds. The hulks remained, one drifting out into space, the other crashing onto the surface of a planet that was being rendered lifeless hemisphere by hemisphere. The other two were shielded by the planet for some minutes. If their grabbers had been functioning well, they could have hung in space behind that shelter. Without them, they were forced to advance in their orbit into the hell on the other side. The logistics ships lasted no longer than the transports, burning like moths in a flame.
The destroyers and cruisers lasted for ten or so seconds of fury before the terrible photon storm burned through, reducing everything organic to plasma, followed by the hulls of the ships themselves. The battleships actually held up for over a minute, but even their heavy fields and thick armor could not withstand the blast. The people aboard were dead from heat well before the hulls burned through. Bennington’s last thought was that he had led so many people to their deaths for no result. Even he knew that it wasn’t his fault, and that did not matter.
The battle cruisers shielded the smaller ships out by the barrier. The wave of photons was so attenuated by then that they survived, though not without major damage. Only two of the capital ships and a trio of destoyers were still combat capable after the storm passed. Repairs could have been made before the slower moving plasma cloud reached them, but the Caca task force swooping out of hyper hours later, when that space had calmed enough for translation, took them out as well.
* * *
APRIL 20TH, 1004. CA’CADASAN HOME SYSTEM.
“We ambushed one of their forces, Supreme Majesty,” said the Supreme Admiral, showing his predator’s teeth in a smile.
“How big a force?” asked the Emperor, in his mind imagining an enormous fleet, hundreds of capital ships at least. Maybe even more.
“About fifteen capital ships, twenty or more smaller vessels, and the transports they were escorting.”
The Emperor felt his mood drop like a kinetic warhead hurled in from space. “Forty ships?”
“Maybe a couple of more,” said the Supreme Admiral, stepping back a bit as he saw the expression on his leader’s face.
Disbelief was disappearing, rage starting to take its seat. “We wasted all of the resources of a system. Twelve capital ships. All the special equipment and supermetals.”
“It really wasn’t much of a system, Supreme Majesty.”
“It was still a living system,” screamed Jresstratta at the top of his lungs. “The damned system had a living world. You know what kind of problems I’m having with those fanatics from the Church over this? They are going to raise hell over this when it gets out.”
“We still accomplished something, Supreme Majesty,” stated a High Admiral sitting in the meeting.
Jresstratta turned with a murderous look on his face, ready to order the death of anyone who said something he didn’t want to hear. The calm look on the male’s face took him aback for a moment, long enough for him to open his ears.
“What did we accomplish?” asked the Emperor, annunciating each word.
“We have given the humans something to think about,” said the High Admiral, pointing a pair of right index fingers into the air to emphasize each word. “They will no longer be able to just cruise in and take over with their warp fighters and wormhole launched missiles. Now, every time they enter a system they have to be on the look out for this trap. It will slow them down, maybe even stop them from pushing in until they’ve scouted everything in the system. We can gain days of time on each invasion, time for us to react.”
The Emperor sat for a moment, thinking about what the admiral had put forth. Ideas started spinning around in his head. The young male fancied himself a military genius, though he had never served in the Ca’cadasan military, as was the custom with his lineage. He had been too young to serve, even the easy service that was expected of heirs since the death of that one millenia before to the humans. He had not attended the military college, nor had he taken individual instruction at the knees of any of the experts on his staff. He had read extensively, and watched vids, and thought that gave him the knowledge needed to make command decisions. And since he held the power of life and death over all of them, his staff didn’t dare tell him he was not a competent strategist. They mostly ignored him, when they could get away with it. And when they couldn’t? Then disasters were known to happen.
“Is it possible we can set up a grand battle in some system that is of importance?” asked the Emperor, already spinning the scenario out in his mind. “After a couple of more attempts in nothing systems that amount to little loss to the enemy, maybe even none. Then lure them into a system with heavy industry, with a fleet that they will be sure we aren’t going to sacrifice.”
“We would lose a lot of industrial capacity, Supreme Majesty,” said the Supreme Admiral, making a head motion of negation. “Not to mention all the slaves.”
“But if they send in a massive fleet to take the system, we are going to lose those anyway,” said the High Admiral, giving an affirmative head motion. “As well as the defensive fleet.”
“We’ll still destroy a lot of their ships in a conventional ambush,” said the Supreme Admiral, trying to stop the transport crash he was sure this was going to be.
“But not enough,” said the Emperor, giving an affirmative head motion toward the other admiral. “There will always be some ships left. Probably more than half the fleet they attack with, since they always seem to have twice our strength in every battle. And the system is lost anyway. What use to us a planet and bunch of slaves that no longer contribute to our war effort? They are already lost. And if we can take out the remainder of their force?”
“You know they will scout the system thoroughly,” put in the Supreme Admiral.
“Then we will have to hide the ships,” said the High Admiral. “Possibly in prepared shelters on a close in world, or maybe a couple of asteroids placed in the perfect orbit. Or disguised,” he finished, a sly look on his face.
“Yes,” said the Emperor, looking over at the High Admiral with a look of admiration on his face. “It could be done. And it would slow them even more.”
“What about the Church?” asked the Supreme Admiral, trying his best to head this of. “What about the believers?”
“What about them?” asked Jresstratta, staring at his fleet commander. “We’re already having problems with them. What’s a little more?”
“It’s just this, Supreme Lord,” said the Supreme Admiral, leaning forward on the table. “Almost all of our volunteers for special missions,” he said, using the Ca’cadasian euphemism for suicide missions, “are from among the believers. And not just the casual believers, but those who truly have faith. They believe they will be going to an afterlife of bliss, and when paired with the rewards given to their offspring by the Empire, we have them lining up to serve. Nonbelievers, or those with casual faith, do not volunteer for such missions. And with the Church telling the believers that what we are doing is an afront to the gods. Well…”
“That could be a problem, yes,” said the Emperor, reaching up and rubbing a horn. He was silent for a moment, lost in thought, his staff giving him some time.
“What if we don’t tell the males involved that they are on a suicide mission? That should be easy for those not involved in the main part of the mission, who have no need for the information. Those on other ships need not know what is pla
nned. That should make their performance even more genuine. And we only tell the commanders and chief engineers on the mission ships.”
“That, that is dishonorable,” stammered the Supreme Admiral. “We can’t start lying to our own males. We can’t dishonor their bravery and sacrifice by tricking them into duty.”
“From what I can discern,” said the young Emperor slowly, “the humans don’t seem to let honor stand in their way. We are fighting a war of extermination here, and I want them to be the ones who are no longer extant when the war ends.”
“But, they have shown no indication that they are out to exterminate us. From what we can gather, they do take prisoners when surrender is offered, and they treat their captives well.”
“And they could be doing that just to entice our people to surrender,” said the High Admiral, Kelgarasse by name. “After they win, they could start rounding us up and feeding us into extermination camps. After all, they know what we had planned for them.”
“I still say that it is dishonorable,” said the Supreme Admiral, giving a head motion of negation and glaring at the younger, lower ranking admiral. “And the humans do not fight without honor. It’s just a different conception of honor from what we have.”
“We will do what we must to win,” said the Emperor, poking the air with a pair of index fingers. “Whatever it takes.”
“I will have nothing to do with this,” growled the Supreme Admiral, standing up and towering his full three and a half meters over the much smaller seated Emperor.
Jresstratta looked up with a rush of fear, wondering if the larger, stronger male was going to strike him down. Since the latest nastiness no males other than his personal trusted guard were allowed with beam weapons in his presence, but the other warriors still retained their ceremonial blade weapons. He had been afraid to take those away from them, since showing that kind of distrust could lose their loyalty. The guards started to move forward, weapons ready, and Jresstratta held up a hand to stop them. He was pretty sure they could cut the supreme admiral down before he could draw his blade, and he was interested to see what was going to happen next.
“So, you are refusing an order from your liege lord?”
“I am refusing such an order,” growled the male, pointing a finger at the monarch. “When you come to your senses I will be happy to be of service again.”
The male turned his back on his monarch, a sign of total disrespect.
The Emperor felt the rage consume him. Given time he might have made another decision, since the Supreme Admiral was well respected in the fleet, and someone the young Emperor really needed on his side. But thought was distant while emotions were playing through his still not fully developed mind and body. He looked over at High Admiral Kelgarasse and pointed at the Supreme Admiral.
“You are now my chief of staff, Kelgarasse,” he growled, stopping the older admiral in his tracks. “Strike that carrion down, and assume your new rank.”
The Supreme Admiral turned, his face a study of shock and confusion. He might have defended himself if he could have thought through the stunned shock. Instead, he stood like a food animal awaiting slaughter. Kelgarasse pulled his ceremonial blade from its sheath, a meter of gleaming blade, and pounced on the other officer. His face showed his elation at getting everything that any naval officer could want. Two ranks, something that would have taken him a century or more to achieve in the normal scheme of things. Supreme command, at the top of the military pyramid.
Kelgarasse stabbed his blade into the back of the other admiral’s neck, severing his spine with consummate skill and instantly killing the other male. He stepped back to avoid the falling body, then knelt to clean his blade on the clothing of the dead admiral, sheathing it and standing again to look at the Emperor.
“Good job, Supreme Admiral Kelgarasse,” said the somewhat satisfied Emperor, already starting to feel the doubt at what he had ordered. The other admiral would be missed by his fellows, and might even spark a small revolt among the officers. Unless he did something about it.
“Remove this carrion,” growled Jresstratta, pointing at the body that was bleeding out on the floor. “Throw him in the garbage heaps.”
Even the guards, the most loyal males the Emperor could find, looked askance at that order. Males were honored in death, interned in their family tombs, unless they had been lost in battle on some foreign world or in space. If the body wasn’t recoverable, a small shrine was raised by the family in the tomb, honoring their memory. To throw the body of the admiral in the palace garbage would be seen as the greatest of insults to his family and ancestors.
“If I might be so bold, Supreme Lord,” said Kelgarasse, bowing to the Emperor and playing the part of the perfect subservient officer. “I think it would be so much more fitting if a story was circulated about how the admiral stopped a Church assassin with his life, saving yours, Supreme Lord. And then, a burial with honors. It would shift blame onto the Church, and satisfy the other officers.”
Jresstratta pondered the words of the new Supreme Admiral, liking what he heard. The male was sneaky, something his father would not have put up with, though it was much to the liking of the young Emperor, as long as it was duplicity on his account.
“Very well. Then we will do it that way. As long as I can count on everyone in this room to hold his tongue.”
He looked over each of the six guards and received acknowledgements in return. The guards knew where their meat was cooked. They had thrown in with this Emperor body and soul. They would do what he said, to whatever he told them to do it to.
“Very well. I will have refreshments in my office. You will join me, Supreme Admiral, and we will plan how we are going to set up these ambushes.”
The new Supreme Admiral almost shook with delight. The Emperor returned a smile, happy with the decision he had made, not realizing how badly it was about to explode in his face.
* * *
“This young fool has completely lost his mind,” growled General Nazzarash, the commander of the First Infantry Division, the capital garrison, looking over at his co-conspirators.
Eight males gathered in the small room in the bowels of the palace. The chamber had been swept several times for listening devices by the best electronics experts the officers could trust, and those were very good indeed. Other males, armed, were on guard in several layers, right outside, in the nearby corridors, and in all the passages reaching down to this level.
“We all realize that,” said High Admiral Llallaras, commander of the largest home system capital ship squadron. “The question is, what are we going to do about it. Kill him? And then what do we do about the succession. There is no heir, and very few living relatives. If we don’t have a clear line set up, we risk civil war, as every fool of a distant cousin stakes his claim.”
“We need to plan this carefully,” agreed Admiral Jrrassatar, the commander of fleet research and development. “We’re only going to have one chance at this. While I really don’t fear for myself, if we fail, I shudder to think what punishment will be levied upon our families.”
“I understand that concern,” said Over-prelate Norrasta, smuggled into the palace for this meeting to represent the Church. “But my primary concern is the spiritual health of the Empire. Destroying worlds, and now betraying our brave males, is going to turn the Gods even further against us.”
A couple of the males huffed. Many were not believers, some were, but all recognized the effect the Church had on their warriors. The Church was good for the morale of the lower males. Morale was already at an all time low, and it threatened to drop even further, bottoming out.
“Whatever we come up with, we need to do something, and soon,” said Llallaras, looking from face to face. “The humans are pressing us on both fronts. While I am against this new weapon, and don’t see how it will benefit us in the end, it will indeed slow them down. For a time.”
“Until we hurt them badly enough, and they start bombarding our worlds wit
h relativity weapons,” growled General Nazzarash. “They might even appear in our sky, here in the home system, and leave it a lifeless husk in repayment of our killing so many of their people. Not to mention the strange affection they seem to have for aliens who are not of their species. They have shown a predilection to avoid as much collateral damage to the slaves as possible. I don’t understand it, but there it is. They may go all out with something we have yet to see to keep us from killing any more slaves. There will be no good end to this.”
“Good point,” said Llallaras, giving a head motion of acknowledgment. “So far the humans have given no indication that they wish to wipe us out. If that had been their wish, we would not be occupying this chamber. This world would be a lifeless husk, the surface a sea of magma. While they have to know that is what we would do if given the chance. If they think that is the only way they can save our slaves, they might just change their minds.”
“We need to tell the believers in the fleet to revolt,” said Norrasta, receiving angry glares in return. “There are enough believers in the fleet that we could shut it down.”
“And that is something we cannot afford, Priest,” yelled another of the males, a low admiral in charge of the fleet training facility on the planet. “If the fleet stops fighting, the humans will rush in and take thousands of systems without a fight.”
“The army will still contest the planets,” said Nazzarash in an angry tone.
“Wonderful,” replied Llallaras, giving a head nod of negation. “They will control the space, and all they have to do is drop enough weapons to the slaves to overwhelm our troops. They wouldn’t even have to risk their own. And the more slaves we kill, even if defending ourselves, the greater the rage of the humans.”
“You are speaking as if we can still win this war,” protested Norrasta, earning more angry glares. “We have not won a battle since they started the penetration of our space. We are losing tonnage at the rate of two to one. More likely three to one.”
“How do you know that, priest?” growled Llallaras, hand dropping to his sidearm. “That is secret information.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 6