The general shook his head. That was something they couldn’t supply. Shore batteries were large mobile weapons, needing portals expanded to a much greater degree, sure to be spotted as soon as they deployed. That would lead the Cacas back to the portal, and they would be sure to strike it. The other weapons could be delivered in greater numbers, though there were many more particle beam rifles in the pipeline than any of the heavy weapons.
“Are you getting hit by a lot of ships from orbit?”
“Not really. We’re guessing it’s because many of them are hulks, meant to lure your own fleet in.”
That was the general’s guess as well. The Cacas weren’t about to sacrifice an intact force to lure the humans in to their destruction. What they were deploying were ships that had been badly damaged, stripped of most of their machinery. Also some mockups that had never been warships, but were made up to look like them. They had some real warships in orbit supporting their ground forces, along with a few more further out that would lend authenticity to the enemy movements.
“We are here,” said Mrrarraras, stepping up to a curtain that closed off a chamber from the tunnel.
The chamber was large, though the crowding within made it seem much smaller. Almost two hundred Maurids waited in the chamber, laying on their bellies much as Terran dogs would, or on two legs and leaning against one of the walls. All turned to stare as the human entered with their leader. Most had looks of curiosity, though some had open stares of hostility. All were wearing the leather straps their kind used to hold objects of need, not having a use for clothes in most cases. Some had the greater web gear of a warrior about to go out on a mission, longer bladed weapons, grenades and pouches hanging from them.
“Is this the human you told us about?” asked one of the larger males in the room, standing among several other males and a pair of females.
Cornelius had worked long and hard on learning to tell the Maurids apart by gender, since they weren’t quite as dimorphic as humans. The females were a bit more slender, with six teats underneath their bodies when in four footed stance. Their snouts were also slightly more narrow, though that wasn’t a universal.
“This is General Cornelius Walborski,” said Striped Wolf, using his own language. “The Hunter. And he I have talked about on occasion.”
Cornelius could understand their language, having hypno learned it. Which didn’t mean he could speak it with perfect pronounciation, but maybe well enough for most to understand.
“He looks like just another of his soft skinned kind,” said the large Maurid who had asked about him initially. “I don’t believe he could take one of us in hand to hand combat, much less three.”
“These are medals given to him by his Emperor,” said Mrrarraras, pointing to the awards on the general’s uniform. “He had distinguished himself in combat against the masters, displaying suicidal heroism against them on three occasions. On the first he fought a team of our trackers, taking them out with only a bladed weapon.”
“That is not really hand to hand,” argued the male, extending his claws, looking and studying them for a moment.
“Our people also had bladed weapons, Jajjasra,” said Mrrarraras, pointing an extended claw at his subordinate. “It was an equal fight.”
“Were you there?” asked one of the females, glaring at the leader for a moment before turning a baleful gaze on the human. “I believe that I could rip him apart in hand to hand.”
“It seems that they want to challenge you,” said Mrrarraras in Terranglo. “I did not ask you here to fight them, so you can of course refuse.”
And then they will think me a coward, thought Walborski, shaking his head. And with me all humans. This is one I can’t let pass.
“I will fight him,” said Cornelius, feeling a thrill pass up his spine. It wasn’t just anticipation of action. There was a little bit of fear mixed in. He had seen what these creatures could do when they set their claws to it, and a very real possibility existed that he would be badly injured in a fight with one. Especially fighting in his dress uniform. “Could I call for my fighting uniform, so I can move.”
Mrrarraras said something to the challenger, received a reply, and looked back at Cornelius. “Jajjasra agreed, saying that of course he couldn’t expect such a soft creature to fight naked.”
Another insult. Cornelius fought down his anger. He was going to fight smart, and not let his emotions rule him. Just as he had been taught.
The suit came and Cornelius changed into it, pulling off his uniform and sliding into the combat rig. He changed in front of the Maurids, feeling no embarrassment exposing himself to the aliens. Several pointed at his genitals and gave out barking laughs. I’ll have you know that I have very good equipment by human standards, he thought, smiling in return. Walborski left his web gear on the floor, so the aliens wouldn’t think that he was trying to conceal some weapons. He stepped back, closed his eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths.
“Is it afraid to fight?” asked Jajjasra, putting as much scorn as he could into the words.
“To first blood?” asked Cornelius, waiting for Mrrarraras to translate.
“The challenge is to the death,” replied the leader, without bothering to translate.
“Outstanding,” said Cornelius with a smile, stepping back into a fighting stance. He wondered for a moment how the sergeant would feel if he fell here, breaking his word? How would his family feel? How would the Emperor feel?
“You need to record my words before we start,” he said to Mrrarraras. “I want Sean to know that I did this of my own free will, so he won’t hold it against an ally.”
“Your Emperor would feel so deeply about your death?” asked Mrrarraras, giving him a strange look.
“We’re blood brothers,” said Cornelius, nodding. “I was best man at his wedding, and I’m the Godfather of his children.”
“We must stop this,” shouted Mrrarraras in Terranglo, then in Maurid.
“I knew it,” said Jajjasra, growling, scorn in his words. “It was all a setup, to make the human seem mighty in the hopes that we would back down.”
“I’m not backing down,” said Cornelius, gesturing for the Maurid to come forward.
“Then attack me human.”
So that’s the way it’s going to be, thought the general, who would have preferred to fight defensively at first to take the measure of his opponent. But the Maurid was making no move to come forward, waiting for him to make the first attack.
Cornelius ran forward with short quick steps. Several of the Maurids gasped out in surprise, seeing something actually moving faster across the ground than they could. Jajjasra ran at him with a war howl, moving one hand back as he reared up on his hind legs and started to bring his claws forward. The Ranger leapt into the air and turned a somersault over the claw, bringing a foot down in a heavy strike on the shoulder of his opponent.
All Rangers learned basic hand to hand techniques during their training. They were encouraged to continue their studies after graduating from Ranger school. Many did not, since their primary means of dealing death was with the projectile weapons they were issued. Cornelius had taken it the heart, and had risen to black belt in one of the Chinese origin forms, Kung Fu. It emphasized very fast and fluid hand motions along with some quick but devastating kicks. Especially devastating when delivered by the legs of an augmented human.
Jajjastra staggered under the weight of the kick, but was able to get a claw up to strike at the leg before it could be withdrawn. The claw slashed through the clothing, tough as it was, but only caused superficial damage to the flesh underneath. The actual physical force behind the blow caused more trouble, sending the human into a spin to hit the floor.
The Maurids all howled with excitement. It seemed they all liked a good fight, no matter that the death of their guest might cause them uncounted trouble in the future. Jajjastra took a moment to let the adoration sink in, a mistake.
Cornelius kicked himself to his feet a
nd moved toward the distracted Maurid. Not distracted long, as he turned quickly an brought a claw around in a slash. With a quick step the Ranger moved back out of range, then in with another, hitting the extended arm with a double fist strike. The Maurid tried to attack with its other claw, but its struck arm, numb from the double hit, got in the way, and Cornelius launched a flurry of short hard blows into its ribs. Jajjastra grunted, then got his feet back underneath himself and swung a series of fast slashes at the Ranger.
Cornelius stepped forward and threw blocks into all of the slashes, hitting the creature’s forearms with strikes that not only kept the attack from hitting him, but added muscle damage to the forelimbs of the Maurid. He threw in a backhand to the snout, which was as sensitive as it appeared, and forced his opponent back.
Jajjastra roared in anger and ran in, attempting to bullrush the human and knock him off his feet. Cornelius dropped down on spreading legs, set himself, and launched a side kick into the knee of his opponent. He felt the satisfying impact of hard foot hitting mobile knee, along with what felt like a crack. He hadn’t been sure that a strike to the joint would be as effective against the Maurid as it would be to a human. That he had been correct was gratifying, but the fight wasn’t over yet.
“Give up?” he asked Jajjastra, nodding toward the knee, which was now bent back at an unnatural angle, meaning not the dogleg if normally was.
“To the death,” yelled the Maurid, trying to rush in and stumbling.
Cornelius hit the Maurid in the head with a flurry of roundhouse blows. It was an attack he didn’t want to extend, since that kind of blow left him open, but they delivered great power to the brain case of the creature. The Maurid skull was thicker than that of a human, and would have been much stronger than that of an unaugmented person. The Ranger had carbon fibers weaved into all of his bones by nanotech, making his skeleton much stronger. He finished with an uppercut to under the jaw that rocked Jajjastra back, then stepped away and waited for the Maurid’s next move.
“I will kill you,” screeched the Maurid, trying to run forward and half falling on his injured leg, He dropped to all fours, giving himself three useful limbs and looked up at the human. Blood dripped from his mouth from the uppercut, while one eye was barely opened.
“Don’t play with him,” called out Mrrarraras in Terranglo.
Cornelius knew his friend was correct. He had the measure of this creature, but one error on his part and Jajjastra’s claws could still rip out his throat. The Ranger stepped forward again, his feet sliding close to the ground. He delivered a straight jab to the nose, then spun in a one eighty to deliver a backhand to the side of his opponent’s skull. That rocked Jajjastra back, and the Maurid stumbled and was almost on his side, righting himself at the last moment.
“One thing your leader forgot to tell you,” said Cornelius as he grabbed the head of his opponent in a double grip. “I killed one of your masters, the same way I’m about to kill you.”
Cornelius twisted with all the strength of his arms, at the same time throwing his body into a spin. There was a moment’s resistance, then a crack as the spinal column snapped. The body of the Maurid went immediately limp, the brain no longer able to communicate with the rest of the body. Cornelius released his grip and let the Maurid fall in a limp mass to the floor, where he lay, his rib cage rising and falling as he continued to breath.
So their breathing is controlled by some system lower than their brain, thought the Ranger, watching the rise and fall. He still needed to kill this one. Not only was it cruel to leave it lying there in distress, but the contest had been to the death, and it wasn’t technically dead. The Ranger again took a step forward, then leapt as high as he could into the air, going up to the point where his hunched body almost hit the ceiling, five meters above. He came down with all of his weight on the ribs, feeling them crack. A rib must have penetrated into the thoracic regions, as blood spurted from the Maurid’s mouth. The breathing continued for some seconds, labored. Slowly it stopped, and the eyes of the Maurid popped open in the stare of death.
Mrrarraras started speaking in a loud voice to his people, and the general could only pick out some of the words. Conqueror, bane, trust. The gist of it seemed to be that the puny human had killed the mighty warrior with his bare hands, proving himself a man of his word. Cornelius wasn’t sure he bought into the reasoning, but if that was what it took for these people to work with him, who was he to argue.
“We will send for your medics,” said Mrrarraras, coming up to him and looking down on the dead Maurid.
“My body will take care of it,” said Cornelius, looking down and seeing the slow drip of blood from his calf. It was already starting to heal, his augmented systems handling the injury. “But I will take a drink. And then we can talk about what we are going to do about the Cacas on your world while we wait for the Fleet.”
Chapter Thirteen
Religion is the idol of the mob; it adores everything it does not understand. Frederick the Great
JUNE 28th, 1004, KALLFER SYSTEM.
There it is, thought Admiral Mei Lei, looking at the distant yellow dot on the viewer. She shuddered as she thought about what the dot represented to her and her crews.
Jean de Arc sat about three light years out from the star Kallfer. They had curved around the star in Caca space, coming in from the direction of the enemy homeworld, and had translated out of hyper well out of detection range. There was no way of telling if something was lying doggo that had sent a message to the Cacas in the system. If there had been something, it hadn’t transmitted by grav wave, since that would have been detected. Possibly they had a ship with a wormhole aboard, but the Ca’cadasan Empire had a dearth of the portals. One reason they had approached from an unexpected vector. With luck the enemy didn’t realize they were here.
Still, everything they saw at three light years was that much time out of date.
Her flagship had only taken superficial damage in the last battle. Some missing grabber alloy, armor partially penetrated near the bow. Engineering had been able to make full repairs on the way here, reinforcing the sections that had been damaged by enemy beam fire, replacing sections of two of the grabbers. It might have been better to send the ship back to Imperial space for time in a dock, but ships were still scarce, and the admiral preferred using the ship she was familiar with. Besides, if everything went as planned, she wouldn’t be engaged in much combat. And if everything went to shit, it wouldn’t matter if she was in a fully capable super heavy battleship. Everything in the inner system was dead.
“We’re almost in range, Admiral,” said the voice of the lt. commander in charge of the pair of Alcubierre fighters that had sped toward the system at twenty times light speed.
Both fighters had Klassekian com techs that tapped them into the network. One of the fighters also had a wormhole, giving them high density data transmission. They had been released from a destroyer that had worked its way inward in hyper II, making detection from beyond a couple of light months unlikely. Dropping out at three light months, it had released the two fighters that had spun up their engines and rushed in. It had been almost a five day trip, slowing at the end to two light to make their detection unlikely. But now they were about to drop from their drive at a light week from the target.
“We’re waiting,” said Mei, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she realized how impatient that made her sound. Of course she was impatient. But as the commanding officer she shouldn’t let her subordinates know that.
The information they would get would still be a week out of date, but from the intelligence they had, the Cacas had been working on this trap for almost a month. So they should see some signs of what they were doing. In a couple of days they would move the scout force in itself, two days before the arrival of the battle force.
Mei had to wait about an hour before the visuals came in. They were transferred over the wormhole to Fleet headquarters first, so they would also be looking at them. Tra
ined analysts would be looking them over, but the admiral preferred to get her own look as well. She had been in scout force for her entire career, and felt her analysis was as good as anyone’s.
“Here you go, Admiral.”
The first images were of the star from a distance. Not much to see, though the icons of boosting ships filled in to show the ongoing activity. Those tracks were in real time, since gravitons travelled through all the dimensions of hyper as well as normal space.
There was a lot of activity, but most of it was extremely faint, only localized by long timescale scans. That was suspicious, since in Mei’s experience warships were always driven like bats out of the hells. And much of that activity was near to the graviton source of the habitable planet. Why were ships maneuvering that close to the planet? They should either be floating in a standard orbit, or moving in or out of those orbits on the way to something else. It looked very suspicious to her mind.
It’s like they don’t expect us to come in unless they have sufficient bait, she thought. That might be true. If the Fleet thought there were only a couple of dozen warships in the system, they would only send in twice the tonnage, what they would consider the minimum amount to assure a victory. But if they were trying to lure in enough to make sure there was a large force, one that would make exploding the star worthwhile, then they would have to make it look like there were more ships than a small group could take on.
If it had been her, she would have sent in a small force to take out what she was sure the enemy had, while the strike force went after projector ships. But it wasn’t her call, and command had thought it better to give the Cacas what they thought they wanted coming at them. Otherwise, they might just detonate the star before the Fleet could stop the process, and a billion Maurids would die.
Well, we’re all volunteers, she thought. That wouldn’t be any comfort to the families. Mei only had to worry about her cat, who was on the ship and would go into the afterlife with her. She had the estate that came with her patent of nobility, but she had rarely visited it, much less actually sat in residence. She didn’t know those people and they really didn’t know her. And her birth family, while it might go through the motions of mourning, also didn’t really know her anymore.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 20