By the Gods, I will go down in our histories as the Emperor who saved the Empire. The greatest of all time. While his mind traversed flights of fancy, thoughts of failure left him, and he watched the unfolding battle from the viewpoint of his fantasy world.
* * *
“We have incoming missiles,” called out the scout force tactical officer. “Counting one thousand and fifteen weapons, boosting at eight thousand gravities.”
So, they’re using their older weapons here, thought Mei, thinking that further proof that this was a setup.
The Cacas had started the war with missiles that could accelerate at eight thousand gravities, while the human weapons could only pull five thousand. Soon the human forces were fielding weapons that could accel at ten thousand gravities, and shortly thereafter further increased their boost over a short course to fifteen. The Cacas were now following suit, though they still had a number of the older missiles in their inventory. But in a real fight it would be expected that most of the missiles fired at the humans would be the newer variety. That they weren’t was proof that the Cacas weren’t wasting resources on this fight that they didn’t have to. Didn’t it?
“Launch fighters. Let’s get some missile defense out in front of us.”
The battle cruisers each carried a squadron of sixteen normal space fighters, each with eight short range interceptor missiles. The fighters were obsolete as attack birds, only useful for close in defense of their launching ships. Theoretically they could take out half this missile swarm, leaving only five hundred for the defenses of the ships to handle. If the enemy didn’t launch another volley. If intelligence was correct about what they were facing, there would be no more volleys coming their way. If not, they would be facing another, and maybe another after that, and she would be losing ships in icreasing numbers.
“Should we return fire, ma’am?”
“No. We can’t risk a hit to the planet.”
“We could target these out here,” replied the officer, highlighting a group of ships to the north of the planet. “Any misses will just continue on into space. No danger to the planet at all.” The tracks of the proposed missiles appeared on the plot, leading the motion of the planet’s orbit to arrive at the enemy ships as they moved into the target space. The misses continued on, into the system.
“If those ships are what intelligence thinks they are, then we will have to notice something is wrong,” said Mei, her tone indicating that she was using this as a teaching moment. “They’ll have to wonder why we are still coming in, when it obvious we don’t need this kind of force to take out what they have. So, no, we will not fire on those ships. Yet.”
“As you wish, ma’am,” said the disappointed tactical officer. He looked up a moment later. “They’re firing another volley.”
“At us?” asked an alarmed admiral, looking over at the main plot.
“They appear to be heading our general direction,” said the officer, inputting information on his board and looking over the results. “High confidence they are targeting the battle force. Seventy-eight percent.”
Which meant there was still a twenty-two percent chance that they would target the scout force. The probabilities would firm up in time, but it would still make for a tense fifteen or twenty minutes until they did.
“We ride it out, Tac. Anything else would violate the battle plan, and it isn’t time to make changes.”
The officer again didn’t look happy, but nodded his acceptance and went back to work on his board, running situations, going over every possibility so he could input the solution in if needed.
At least he can stay busy, thought the admiral, whose only job now was to look confident as they continued to stick their heads into the mouth of the beast.
* * *
JULY 2ND, 1004.
“Still no sign of the enemy projection ships?” asked Suttler, staring at the plot as if his concentration would cause them to appear.
“No sir.”
“I want a projection of where they will most likely be when our force crosses the line of no return,” ordered the admiral, looking at his tactical officer. “Then track back to where they must be to get there in the appointed time.”
If they were hidden someplace nearby that might work. Since they didn’t know the absolute maximum range of the projectors, they had no way of knowing where the enemy had to be. There were a couple of dozen close in antimatter production sats, and one small rocky planet, all about the same distance from the star. But still no sign of anything leaving any of those objects and moving into position.
Suttler wondered for a moment why there were any sats in orbit at all. He checked the information on past events and found that they always left some, the rest having been disassembled and taken out of the system. He guessed that they wanted it to appear like the system was still up and running, which made sense, though they always left too few to actually make it look right. The ones they left were stripped of every bit of equipment they had. The linear accelerators used to flip the charge of the particles and separate out the volatile substance. Computer controls, crystal matrix battery backups. Everything but the structure and the photovoltaic cells on the long wings. The sats still in orbit didn’t look like the ones that Suttler was used to seeing in the Empire, which didn’t surprise him. Looking closely, he had to admit that they looked like functional antimatter sats. So he turned his attention to trying to locate something else.
They have to know that if they moved too soon, they might scare us off. But they also can’t just ramp everything up and head full bore to their positions, can they? If they do that they might draw our fire, and we could possibly destroy all or most of them before they could get into position. So where it the hell are they?
Admiral Mei had spotted some heading into position in the last system she had been in, by the star they had intended to detonate. That had allowed her to find them, fix them, and target them, sneaking in for the kill. The Cacas had to be aware of what she did, and that would entice them to make an effort to hide their ships. That, and the realization that they couldn’t show their hand to early and expect the humans to forge in.
His ships would be in position to engage in twelve hours. If he knew where the targets were at that time he could take them in passing, the stealth/attack ships making minimal corrections to their courses. If he didn’t know where they were, and only acquired them on close approach, there was the possibility that his ships might have to boost at a rate that would light them up on every sensor in the system. It was preferred, at least with these kind of vessels, to make the attack from hiding, and not to get into a slugging match. He didn’t know if the vessels he was coming after were fully armed, but if they were, a slugging match was the last thing he wanted.
Hell, even it they’re just armed with some defensive lasers, I don’t want to get into that kind of a fight, thought the admiral, who had killed his share of ships from stealth during this war. Just give me a fat dumb target here at the end.
“Command is asking if we have acquired targets yet,” said the com officer. “They’re sounding pretty insistent.”
“Tell them not yet. But when we do, they’ll be the first to know.”
The enemy had to bring those ships online at some point, or their trap would fail. Wouldn’t it? The problem would come when he had to change vectors, boost beyond what they could cover up with stealth, and give themselves away to the enemy. At that point it would no longer be a sneak attack, and they might find themselves in a knife fight. Not what he wanted. He definitely preferred the blade from the dark, a nice peaceful assassination.
* * *
“Admiral Suttler is reporting no targets in sight,” called out one of the com officers from the floor of the war room.
“Damn,” growled Sondra McCullom, looking out over the floor from the high rankers’ station up on the north wall. “We need to locate those ships.”
“Maybe they aren’t there,” said the Empress, her holo ima
ge sitting next to that of the Emperor in the virtual conference.
“Not a chance, your Majesty,” said Len, also attending by virtual avatar. “If this wasn’t a trap they wouldn’t be making such clumsy attempts at trying to sucker us in.”
So why aren’t we seeing them? thought the CNO, shaking her head. She couldn’t think of any way of hiding them so close to a star. They couldn’t sit down in the photosphere for long, not with the heat they would be absorbing, unable to radiate away. If sitting further out they still would absorb a lot of heat, and the backdrop of the star would make some of them easier to spot. Could they be hiding on the one planet? If so, they needed to move quickly to get into position. So far there had been no indication of anything moving. And if they waited and spotted Suttler’s force, would they even bother moving? They had to, or the entire setup would be a waste, Caca ships killed for little return.
“Missiles arriving at the Scout Force. Admiral Mei reporting that four hundred and twenty are entering their long range defense envelop. Starting to engage.”
The CNO looked over at the image of the Emperor. The man was grasping the hand of his wife, his face a study of concentrated concern. He knows a lot of these people, she thought. Not that he wouldn’t still be concerned over a bunch of people he didn’t know personally. He was that kind of leader. But knowing some of the primary actors and their histories made it seem much more real.
“Where is the point of no return?” asked Sean, his image leaning forward.
“Admiral Mei has already reached it,” said one of the staffers, manning a station in the smaller chamber. “Her detached commands will not be passing it, but her primary command has just pushed through.”
“We doubt the Cacas will set off their trap just to catch her smaller force, your Majesty,” McCollum reminded her liege lord. “At the moment the battle force isn’t in the basket, and it would be a waste to set it off.”
“Wouldn’t it still kill all of those slaves on the planet?” asked the Empress, squeezing her husband’s hand even tighter.
They could kill all of them for all I care, thought the CNO, stopping herself in the middle of a headshake. Not that she didn’t care about the aliens. Even if they weren’t allies, or potential ones at least, they were still thinking beings. But it was her ships and crews that were being put to risk. And it would be her logistics ships that would have to support this system and the more than a billion sentients there until they could get it on its feet again. More strain on the system that was already struggling to support a huge fleet far from home.
“We’re not going to let that happen,” said the Emperor, shooting a glance at his CNO.
McCullom nodded back. She had to agree with the man who gave the orders. She could disagree with certain decisions, but not with ones that had already been hashed out and finalized. Not if she wanted to keep her job.
“General Walborski is reporting that the resistance is hitting the Caca fort closest to their wormhole gate,” called out a woman in the uniform of an Imperial Army com officer. She looked back with a smile on her face. “They caught them completely flat footed.”
“That’s their garrison controlling the landing field,” said Sean, looking at his wife. “With that in hand, it will be much more difficult for them to service their aircraft.”
That was all well and good if they wanted to keep the Caca army from killing more of the natives. If they didn’t stop the stellar event none of this would matter, and they would be lucky to get the two companies of Rangers that had gone over for support back through the wormhole.
“The General reports that he hasn’t had such a good time since Azure,” said the com officer with a slight smile that quickly turned into a frown as she looked back at the Emperor.
“And why in the hell is he having such a good time?” asked Sean, his voice rising. “Just where in the hell is Walborski now?”
“He’s on the planet, your Majesty,” said the stammering com officer.
“What? That little bastard disobeyed a direct Imperial order that he not enter a combat zone,” hissed the Emperor.
His face reddened with rage, and McCullom wasn’t sure that she had ever seen her monarch this angry. The Empress leaned over and whispered something in his ear as she rubbed a hand over his closest shoulder.
“He will pay for this, if he survives. He better hope a Caca kills his ass.”
McCullom cringed a little. She didn’t know what was coming Walborski’s way, but she was very happy that she wasn’t in his shoes.
Sean suddenly started to laugh, a deep booming that came from the gut and was a sign of true humor. “He’s a force of nature, and far be it from me to try and control him. Maybe I should just bust him down to private and let him lose on the Cacas. Their worst fear.”
“Don’t your dare turn him back into a commoner,” said the Empress, turning a scowl on her husband. “Devra is just getting used to being called countess.”
“Oh, I won’t take away his patent of nobility. But it might do him good to serve as a common soldier while still holding the title of count.”
The Empress laughed, a musical sound that the CNO envied, her own sounding like the bray of a donkey. There were a few other chuckles in the room as the mood lightened for a moment.
The mood in the chamber immediately sobered as more reports came in.
“You think he’ll make it off that planet?” asked the Empress, a different level of concern in her voice.
“Hell, what difference will it make? I don’t think a mere exploding star can kill that stupid bastard.” The Emperor looked back at McCullm, shrugging his shoulders.
She knew what she would do to a combat commander who was so good at his job and insisted on going into battle. She would supply him with whatever he needed and let him go. Of course, in this case there was the little matter of disobeying a direct order from the Emperor. Then again, that was Sean’s concern, and no one elses.
“The missile storm has reached scout force,” said one of the com techs on the main floor, his voice coming out of the audio in the chamber. “Hits reported to two destroyers and a light cruiser. Lost with all hands. More reporting near misses. Some damage to the flagship. They survived,” continued the voice with some relief.
McCullom frowned. Losing a cruiser and a couple of tin cans, while the rest of the force survived, was not a bad outcome. Still, any losses were of concern, and not just because they were subtractions from her overall order of battle.
“Any more reports from Suttler?” asked the CNO, pulling up the holo of the com officer responsible for contact.
“No, ma’am. Should I ask for a progress report?” asked the talking head in the holo.
“No. Not yet.” McCullom killed that link and pulled up another. The leader of one of the analysis sections appeared. “Okay, Meg. I want you and your team to look over all of the data being sent in by Suttler’s ships. I need you to find those projection ships, and find them now.”
“We’ll do our best ma’am,” said the commander in charge of that brain trust.
“Do better. And if you find them I’ll see every one of your people promoted. You might just get one yourself.”
McCullom cut the link, knowing that she had put the mission in the best hands she could. And thankful that the wormhole net gave her advantages that no other Chief of Naval Operations had ever enjoyed. Like the ability to take data from a front line battle and feed it to specialized analyst sections who could look it over, then get the information back to her units in an instant.
“Think they can find those ships, when Bryce and his people can’t?” asked Sean, brow furrowing.
“It doesn’t matter to me who finds it,” said Sondra, shaking her head. “But adding another set of brains to the equation can’t hurt.” And the incentive was there for those brains to wrack themselves to come up with a solution.
* * *
That’s another one, thought the man known in the Rangers as The Hunter, fi
ring his particle beam and blasting a hole through a Caca helmet. He liked the weapon he was using, a particle beam rifle similar to that used by the heavy infantry. It was really too much weapon for a light soldier. For the physically augmented Rangers it was no problem, and had the capability to blast through the armor of the heavy Caca infantry almost instantly.
I better enjoy it now, he thought, listening while keeping under cover, setting up his next kill. He wasn’t sure what Sean would do, though he doubted the friend he had served as best man and who was godfather to his newest child would throw him in a dungeon under the Imperial Palace. Since there wasn’t such a dungeon, that wasn’t possible, but some other possibilities came to mind. Possibly a public prison, one with an actual view of the ocean, but not something dank and dark.
He knew he had screwed up. There was no way he could deploy himself to the battle lines and the Emperor not find out. But what else was he supposed to do? It killed him inside to send others into a fight while he sat light years away in safety. There was a difference between being a company, or even battalion commander, and sending troops into battle from an office. You shared their hardships, and could join in the fight when needed. But becoming a REMF, a rear echelon mother, was not something he relished.
Around him were a hundred and eighty Rangers and almost a thousand Maurids. The Rangers were all augmented, faster and quicker than just about anything else on the battlefield. The Maurids were almost as good with just their natural abilities. All moved almost too fast for the eye to follow, and fired from good positions with sure kills.
The Caca soldiers were not very good, and that was being kind. The general had fought against their first line troops, and while they had never been as good as the men on his side, they had at least been competent. These were definitely second line troops. Possibly specialists at some other military trade, probaby the techs who serviced the aircraft that lay scattered about the field. But not infantry.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 24