Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion.

by Doug Dandridge

  “We’ll reach that point in thirty-three minutes, ma’am. But we’ll pass through it in less than a minute when we get there.”

  The admiral nodded. That would do. She could get off two volleys of wormhole missiles in that time, then work her way back. She wouldn’t be able to destroy the enemy force in that one window, but she would definitely get their attention.

  “How are the missiles we fired at the star doing?”

  “Still making their way in, as far as we know” said the tac officer. “No sign of vector changes. Do you want to send to destruct signal?”

  “Why ever would I want to do that?” asked the admiral, a smirk on her face.

  “The only Caca platforms still there have stopped stirring up the star. They’re no longer a threat.”

  “They are no longer a threat when they give their formal surrender and abandon ship, Tac. Until then, fuck them.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the officer in a tone that showed his approval.

  Mei put her hands behind her back and walked over to stand by the central holo, looking at the enemy force near the planet. She expected them to start bombarding it at any moment. They would probably hit it with enough kinetics that the planet as a life bearing body would be doomed. The human force would still be able to land wormholes on the planet and evacuate the surviving population. Best case estimate was they would be able to save two or three hundred million, out of a billion. Still a better outcome than if the star blew.

  “Is that star now stable?” she asked as the thought hit her.

  “No way of telling, ma’am,” replied her science officer, speaking from the combat information center where she was monitoring the sensor feeds. “Theory is that it will back itself off, but no one has ever seen this before in real life.”

  “Maybe we should continue trying to get out of here, ma’am,” said her tac officer.

  “No,” she said immediately. “We’re going to save as many of those people as we can. So we keep on going.”

  The planet was now five light minutes away. She wouldn’t see evidence of bombardment for five minutes after it started. She cursed the time delay of space. Wormholes had removed some of the distance generated uncertainty of combat, but not all. All she could hope was that the Cacas actually developed some compassion for aliens. She snorted at that thought. When would the damned demon creatures ever act as if they weren’t the only important things in the universe.

  * * *

  “You are to start bombarding the planet, Admiral,” said the higher ranking Ca’cadasan on the other end of the wormhole. “Leave nothing standing. You are to kill all of the Maurids that you can.”

  “What about our people still down there?”

  “They were dead as soon as they were sent down there,” said the Supreme Admiral who was the Emperor’s chief of staff.

  Low Admiral Grassafa stared at the other male, one whom had been merely one rank above him until recently, when that worthy had been promoted ahead of his peers. He gave a head motion of negation at the words out of the other male’s mouth. Those Ca’cadasan warriors were still alive down there, no matter what this idiot said. And he was not about to murder them. He was also not about to murder the Maurid civilians if he could help it.

  “What should we do, my Lord?” asked the tac officer, confusion on his face. “What in the hells was happening here?”

  “The Emperor had ordered that we turn that star into a higher level nova, killing everything in the system,” said the admiral. “Including us. And now that we have failed in that mission, they want us to render the planet below us uninhabitable.”

  “By the Gods, no,” blurted the sensor officer. “That’s blasphemy.”

  “I will not order the bombardment of the planet,” growled the admiral. It was one thing to launch kinetics at valid military targets, even to hit cities if necessary. But killing the entire world? He had gone along with the attack that would have caused the star to sub-supernova since it removed responsibility from his shoulders. At least he had rationalized it that way. He would not go along with this, since it put responsibility clearly on him and no one else.

  “Admiral,” said another voice, as the image of the Emperor appeared in the holo. “Have you gone mad? This order comes from your Emperor. You will immediately start your bombardment of that planet, and you will not stop until it is rendered uninhabitable. Is that clear?”

  “That is clear, Supreme Lord. But I will not comply. We will fight the humans when they get here, and will die like Ca’cadasan warriors, with honor. But I will not kill a living planet. I hope I have made myself clear.”

  The Emperor glared out of the holo, rage suffusing his face. He was trembling with his emotion, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. Finally, he pointed a pair of index fingers at the admiral and let out a primal scream.

  “Kill that offal. Whoever takes his head will gain a promotion.”

  “I’m sorry, admiral,” said a familiar voice from behind. “I understand how you feel, but we have sworn oaths to the Emperor, and must obey him.”

  The admiral turned slowly to see his flag captain standing in the middle of the bridge, particle beam pistol in his hand, aimed directly at Grassafa’s head.

  “Not you!” He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, since this male was the most likely to carry out the Emperor’s order.

  “I’m sorry. But the Emperor is still our commander in chief, and we are obligated to obey him.”

  “Even if it means disobeying the edicts of the Gods?”

  “You weren’t worrying about the Gods when you came here, were you? Was it because the attack wasn’t in your hands, and you could rationalize that it was someone elses responsibility. Now that it is yours, you are too cowardly to carry out your orders.”

  “Then go ahead and kill me,” growled the admiral, clenching his fists, considering reaching for his own pistol. He knew what would happen when he made the first move toward that weapon, but he didn’t want to go down without at least making the effort to defend himself like a Ca’cadasan warrior. “Then you can order the bombardment of the planet, and watch as the humans slaughter you and this fleet.”

  The bridge crew were trying to take in the entire spectacle of the two ranking males on the ship facing each other down. There were looks of confusion still on some faces. But dawning recognition was appearing on some. The realization that they had been led to this battle as sacrificial beasts, and not as proud Ca’cadasan warriors. Every one of them would have put his life on the line for Emperor and Empire. If they had been given the information, as tradition demanded. They had been lied to, and put in a situation where there was no chance of survival. No chance of actually offering battle to their enemies. That plan had failed, and now they were being asked to kill a planet. An action that helped no one, advanced no strategy that benefited the Empire.

  One of the crew, the com officer, got quietly to his feet behind the flag captain, pulling his ceremonial dagger in an overhand grip in his upper right hand. He padded forward one step and brought the dagger overhead, then down, straight into the back of the flag captain’s neck. It was an instant kill, skillfully dealt, slicing through the spine and into the nerve bundle that controlled autonomic functions. The eyes of the senior officer rolled up in his head, the pistol dropped from nerveless fingers, and his body folded up as all of its muscles went slack.

  “I’m, I’m sorry, my Lord,” said the com officer, the blade still in his hand, dripping blood and spinal fluid. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You did right.”

  “Kill him,” shrieked the Emperor over the com holo.

  “Kill that,” ordered the admiral, pointing at the holo.

  The com officer moved immediately to his station and hit a panel, killing the holo, removing the spectacle of the Emperor out of control.

  “Connect me to the rest of the fleet.”

  “You’re on, my Lord.”

  “Warriors of t
he fleet. We have been given an order that goes against the edicts of the Gods. Not only that, but our supreme commander led us here not to do battle with the enemy, but to serve as bait for a trap that not only would have killed us, but everything in this system. I knew this, and acted against our traditions civil and religious as well. I am guilty. But I refuse to continue with these actions.”

  The admiral took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. He had never been known as a speechmaker, but it was important that he say the words that would end the madness.

  “I’m not sure I have the right to give you orders. You must go with what your hearts tell you. But my hearts are telling me that we must stop. We haven’t the force to fight the humans. We will only go to our destruction without causing them more than the slightest harm. The only action possible is to kill the planet beneath us, something that goes against the edicts of the Gods. Remember, if you are a believer, like most of you are. You will face the Gods this day if you kill that world, as I can guarantee that the humans will make sure that none survive in this fleet. Think of how you want those Gods to judge you. My ship will not participate. I suggest that the rest of you do the same.”

  The admiral turned away from the holo camera, walking back to his chair and falling into it. He was feeling sick to his stomach. He had turned his back on his Empire. After this day he could not return, and there was the possibility that his own family would suffer. His sons had been killed earlier in the war, so there were no close relatives to face retribution. There were cousins, and long lines of relations of varying distance. The Emperor could still strike at those relatives, and given his predilection for retribution, he surely would.

  “Feast of Storms is dropping kinetics on the planet,” called out the sensor officer. “No other ships are joining in.”

  * * *

  “Command is reporting they believe the stellar event has been shut down,” came the voice over the com.

  “Thank God,” said Sergeant Xi, a smile on his face. “So we only have to deal with the Cacas down here, and the ships they have up there. Cake.”

  “Yeah, cake,” said Cornelius, thinking it was anything but. He thought the Maurids on the planet would eventually beat the Caca infantry, given time. There was nothing they could do about the force in close proximity to the planet. That was the job of the Fleet. And he could think of no way the human force could get here in time to prevent them from bombarding the planet into a uninhabitable state.

  On the far side of the huge city, something flashed, and a fiery mushroom cloud started to rise into the air. A moment later the ground rumbled, and stonework fell from the smashed buildings nearby.

  “Well, now it starts,” said the general, looking up into the sky. Something flashed up there, followed by another, until a whole series of bright flashes worked above the atmosphere. “Maybe not.”

  “What’s going on, General?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Cornelius with a slight smile. “But it looks like the start of a civil war.”

  * * *

  The admiral watched as the supercruiser fired a brace of kinetic weapons at the surface. The fast moving weapons hit seconds after launch, streaking through the atmosphere to strike with bright flashes.

  “Well, I shouldn’t have expected everyone to go along with me,” he said under his breath.

  “My Lord,” yelled out the tactical officer.

  The admiral looked up to see the viewer centered on the supercruiser that had just launched the kinetics. Part of the hull glowed, and alloy puffed out as it converted to gas. The viewer split to show one of the few superbattleships in orbit, its hull taking a couple of hits. Its much more powerful beams continued to strike the cruiser, which started to tumble as the outgassing provided random thrust to the hull.

  The uneven fight lasted for several minutes, the cruiser handing out damage to the battleship, and receiving five times as much to its smaller hull. At that time the cruiser powered down, the sign of surrender, and that fight was over.

  “We have incoming missiles, my Lord. We’re picking up the fluctuations as they adjust their courses onto us.”

  Wormhole launches, thought the admiral, seeing the projected track on the plot. The humans were firing at an angle that left the planet out of the target basket. Fortunately, the only ships in that bullseye were merchant ships made to look like warships, with minimal or no crews. And a couple of scout ships there to add their electronic suites to the mix.

  Seventy-one ships blinked on the plot and disappeared, taken out. Even a near miss, a gigaton warhead going off several hundred meters away, was enough to take out the fakes. There weren’t many of those near misses, since the targets didn’t have the electronic warfare suites or maneuvering capabilities of real warships.

  “There has to be more volleys coming in, my Lord,” said the tactical officer. “Fortunately, most of our real warships are still too close to the planet.”

  “Order all of the crews out there to abandon ship. The scout vessels are to make way to close orbit at best speed.”

  “Their main fleet will be here in five hours. What defensive formation do you want, my Lord.”

  The admiral was grateful that his people were still looking for him for command. And he was about to give one that might cause more of them to second guess their own decisions.

  “Send an order to the fleet. All ships are to stand down. We are going to surrender to the humans.”

  “No, my Lord,” blurted the tactical officer. Because of his position, he was among the most belligerent males among an aggressive species.

  “What would you suggest?” asked the admiral, looking into the pain filled eyes of the officer. “We don’t have enough launch platforms left to seriously threaten that human force. And when they close they will destroy all of us, for little return.”

  “I, have no suggestions, my Lord,” said the male, his eyes toward the deck.

  “Then send a com to the humans,” the admiral ordered his communications officer, sitting his station a few meters from the officer he had struck down. “Offer our surrender, unconditionally. And ask them what we should do to prevent any, misunderstandings.”

  * * *

  “We’ve received a signal from the commander of the Caca fleet, your Majesty. Offering his unconditional surrender and that of all the ships under his command. However, he also states that he can’t guarantee that every vessel will go along with it.” Admiral Alvera was smiling, the look of a man who knew he wasn’t about to die this day.

  “What do you suggest, Admiral?” asked Sean, looking into the face of a relieved flag officer. The star was already settling down, obviously not about to blow off a measureable percentage of its plasma and kill everything in the system. And the enemy they had expected to bring to close battle had not only stopped bombarding the planet, but was now offering to give up without a fight.

  That last part of the message was troubling. If not all of the enemy ships were guaranteed to surrender, there was the risk of a surprise strike on some of the human vessels. If possible Sean wanted to end this thing with no more loss of life, but he would rather kill all of the Cacas than lose one more of his people.

  “We could ask them to abandon ship and remain in their shuttles and life pods until we can pick them up. Then, any ship that is still powered up, or that powers up as we approach, we can hit with a missile and take it out.”

  “I would prefer that you take as many prisoners as possible,” said the Emperor, nodding. “We’re going to have to learn how to work with these people if we are going to successfully conclude this war.”

  There was still no guarantee that they were going to win. But it was looking more and more like they would, but the Cacas still had a lot of military power. Having some on their people on his side, just to get their message across to the enemy, would go a long way to making sure the war ended without the nastiness of continued fighting against every small force that decided to make a stand across the enorm
ity of Ca’cadasan space.

  “We’ll try our best, your Majesty. What do you want to do about their soldiers on the planet.”

  “If you can get their surrender, send your Marines down to take charge of them. If they are still resisting, hit them from orbit, send in air support, and crush them with your troops.”

  “And if the Maurids demand we turn the Cacas over to them?”

  “We will hold onto them for the moment, Admiral. And you will empanel a tribunal to look into individual cases, assign guilt to those found so, and punish them according to our laws. The Maurids need to know that we operate according to our own code, and that they will have to adjust their behavior accordingly.”

  “Okay. I’ll try. I’m not sure how the natives are going to react, and I don’t want to have to order Marines to fire on them.”

  “Try to avoid that at all costs, Admiral. But if you must to maintain order, then that is what we will have to do. Stunners only, of course. Now, get to it. I’m going to talk with our people on the surface and get their take.”

  The holo faded, leaving the Emperor alone with his thoughts for a moment. There was one more matter to take care of. Small in the grand scheme of things, but important to him. And to some others that were close to him as well.

  * * *

  “We will, of course, agree to their terms,” said the admiral. “Send the order to all ships. Abandon after powering down all systems.”

  “Shouldn’t we scuttle our ships, Admiral?” asked the tactical officer, looking into the senior officer’s eyes. “To keep the enemy from gathering secrets.”

  “Purge the memory banks if you must. But really, do you think the enemy is actually going to get significant intelligence from these old ships. When they have already captured hundreds of them in their sweep into the Empire.”

  “Agreed,” said the tactical officer after a moment’s thought. That male turned back to his board, pulling up the ship’s computer system and pointing to large files on the data structure. He punched in a code, then made a head motion to his admiral, who punched in his code at his seat, setting the program in motion that would wipe that data from the system, permanently.