When the bright pinpoints of hits faded there was only one enemy ship still in existence, and the Commodore was not sure why it was still there. The armored hull was battered, half of its grabber ring was gone, there were no recognizable laser domes.
“Particle beams are back online,” reported the Tactical Officer.
“Com,” ordered Mei, looking at the ship on the viewer and making a quick decision. “Contact that ship. I want to talk to its commander.”
Moments later the nightmare face of a Cacada appeared on the screen.
“What do you want, human?” asked the snarling visage through the translation program.
“I am asking you if you wish to surrender,” said Mei, pushing down the fear and disgust she felt for the creature. “Your ship is a wreck, and you have seen the power of our beam weapons.”
The Ca’cadasan Officer glared at her for a moment, then spit. “I accept your offer,” said the big male.
The Commodore was really surprised that they had surrendered. “Tell the Marine commander to be very careful when they board that thing,” she told the Com Officer.
Mei sat in her chair with a smile on her face. She had lost people, which was never easy, but had hurt the enemy much more, which was her job. But bringing a partially intact enemy capital ship back to base. That was a triumph above and beyond killing this enemy force. To her credit, she had no thought about how this might benefit her own career.
Chapter Four
SPACE OUTSIDE OF IMPERIAL BORDERS, AUGUST 18TH, 1001.
The Low Admiral in charge of the force watched as the alien freighter detached itself from his flagship in hyper VI, the merchant ship’s maximum dimension. It was a five hundred thousand ton vessel, dwarfed by the mass of the Ca’cadasan battleship and her three companions. Two of the other battleships also dropped a similar merchant ship. The hyperspace below the ships was dominated by a dense field of black dots, the gravity shadows of the mass of stars in the Perseus arm. There were lesser concentrations to the sides of the ships, and a very sparse field above. They were well above the galactic disk, and well outside the boundaries of any of the Empires of the region.
“Success to you, General,” said the Low Admiral, looking into the face of a large male on the holo. Behind the senior ground officer were several of the strange bulky beings known as Knockermen, who had brought the news to the Grand Admiral of how the Ca’cadasans might be able to take out the wormhole generating station of the humans.
“We’ll take out the damned thing,” said the officer. “I have six thousand good males behind me.”
And none of them will be coming back, thought the naval officer, giving a head nod of assent. It was a suicide mission, no matter from what angle it was viewed. There was no way a brigade of ground troops was going to fight their way off that thing. With luck they would find a way to destroy it, a placement for their quarkium devices that would cause enough damage to make it fall apart. Because from what the Knockermen were telling them, the thing was just too damned big for even a hundred multigigaton warheads to destroy.
If they can even make it onboard. A lot depended on the other Knockermen ships, the ones they would meet in Elysium space, to actually take the far point of the wormhole they needed to infiltrate the ground troops onto the station.
“I wish we could send more with you,” said the Admiral, knowing that the big males, with their supplies and equipment, were already packing the merchant ships to almost overflowing.
“If the thing’s as big as they say, we couldn’t take it with a hundred times what we’re bringing,” said the other male with a head nod of negation.
He’s correct, thought the Low Admiral as the merchant ships accelerated away. It was over a two month voyage to where they needed to get in order to launch the assault. And there would be no communication with the assault force. If they were caught by the enemy, they would just disappear, as far as Ca’cadasan Conquest Command was concerned. We’ll only know if the humans stop pulling tricks with those damned wormholes.
* * *
The General stood on the bridge of the alien ship as the icons of the Ca’cadasan task force faded from the tactical plot. His aide stood next to him. Otherwise, the small bridge of the freighter was occupied by nothing but reptilian Knockermen. He looked with disdain on the scaly skinned aliens, with their thick limbs and humped backs. He considered them an inferior species, as did all of his kind of all other races. But even more so the Knockermen, who, for all their physical strength, were slow and clumsy.
And they smell bad, thought the big male, looking at the back of the Captain’s head. It was a smell he would have to endure for several months, the time it took the hyper VI vessels to traverse the space above the Fenri, Lasharan and Margravi kingdoms, then into the space of the Elysium Empire and to the target. All the time worrying that some patrol ship of the humans or the people the Knockermen were fighting would board them. If faced with real warships, his males would not have a chance, trapped on these under powered, under armed vessels. Their size and strength would not help them.
“I will be in my quarters,” the General growled to the ship’s Captain, turning and walking from the bridge. He ducked his head as he went through the hatch, still catching his horns on the upper edge of the opening. He cursed again, straightening up to a half hunched position made necessary by the less than three meter tall ceilings in the corridor. Most of his males bunking in holds that had very high ceilings, did not have that problem. And the human station will probably be worse, thought the male, who had toured ships of the enemy captured by men under his command.
* * *
PLANET CONGREEVE IV, AUGUST 20TH, 1001.
“Just what in the name of the almighty are you doing?” yelled Father Matias Josue, running up to the man who looked like he was in charge of the engineers installing some complicated looking equipment on the hillside. The Missionary’s Flock clustered behind him, the scores of eyes on each of their bulbous heads seeming to look everywhere at once.
Rear Admiral Adrijana Miroslav looked over from where she was talking with a Senior Chief with a curse on her lips. By the Goddess, what now? she thought. She had been raised a Neopagan, and though she no longer believed in any kind of deities, the words still came easy. She saw what looked like a middle aged man with graying temples, wearing a tan survival jacket over a black shirt with a clerical collar. Behind him clustered about a dozen of the natives. She felt her stomach turn as she looked at them. All had deformed looking faces, no two the same, with a multitude of randomly placed eyes. Some had subsidiary heads, most a smaller version of the primary, though one had two equally sized crowns. From what she had been told, the sentients only had one brain, and it wasn’t in any of their heads.
“We’re putting up an electromag projector, sir,” said the Lt. Commander in charge of the engineers.
“For what purpose?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say, sir,” answered the officer, and Miroslav started that way.
The air was brisk, blowing off the glaciers not more than thirty kilometers to the north. Congreeve IV was going through an ice age, and the walls of glaciers, north and south, had not reached their full extension. This huge valley was protected by high peaks, and the glaciers most likely would have gone around it. Now they surely would, with the Empire placing fusion heat projectors in the way of the glaciers.
The deformed looking natives were the reason for the effort. There were other worlds where fungoid life forms had taken over the land, branching out to take the niches of both plants and animals. But none had developed sentient life, even if that sentience was more on the level of a bit above Australopithecus, than most modern sophonts. Still, they had developed hunting and tool use, even before the coming of humans, and definitely fit the definition. And that sentient life was at extreme risk of not surviving the climatic conditions that were prevailing at this time.
“Can I help you, sir,” said the Admiral, walking up on the argume
nt.
“Ma’am,” said the Lt. Commander, coming to attention and rendering a salute. As soon as it was returned the officer started talking, beating the civilian to the punch. “Father Josue here is concerned that we might be interfering with the development of these, fungoids.”
“I wish you would not call them that, my son,” said the Priest, glancing back at the people he was ministering to. “Some of them understand English, after all.”
“And what can I do for you, Father?” she asked the man, motioning for the Commander to get back to supervising the installation of the equipment, which consisted of heat and electromagnetic wave producers, as well as those for holographic images.
“These hills are within the hunting range of these people,” said the Priest, waving back to his flock. “I am wondering why you are setting up equipment here in this area, when the Klinestu are due through here any day.”
And that’s one really bizarre looking animal, thought the Admiral, imaging the multiton herbivores on her link. Like most life forms on the planet they had a general form that was only a template for the animal, much like the structure of a terrestrial tree. Everything on this planet turns my stomach, thought the Admiral, like most humans much more comfortable with some kind of symmetry.
“We’ll try to have our equipment set up and fenced in before they get here,” she said to the priest, staring at one particular specimen of the Garsha who had more eyes than the others. And they’re all genetically identical, even though they don’t use DNA. That was one thing that had really excited the scientists when this world was discovered. There was no sexual reproduction. Everything propagated by spores. But there had definitely been evolution of higher animals (Fungimals?)
“But, why does it have to be here in the first place?” asked the Priest, pointing to the array of antennas and projectors being set up on the plains. “What the hell is all this for?”
And that’s something I can’t tell you, thought the Admiral, trying to come up with an answer that would send the man away so he wouldn’t bother her people. Most of the apparatuses were being set up in the still temperate equatorial regions, where the sentients had not yet spread. No, that was where the four million human colonists were located, many refusing to move no matter what was coming at them.
“You know we’re involved in a war?” she asked, still trying to find the correct phrasing.
“Of course I know we’re in a war,” said the Priest, his angry eyes flashing. He looked at the equipment again, then back at the Admiral, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You wouldn’t. What about these innocent people?”
“What do you think the Cacas will do with these innocent people if they take this planet from us?” asked the Admiral, her hands on her hips as she stared into the eyes of the man. “They will become slaves in their Empire. Or curiosities. They will never be allowed to develop along any kind of path that allows them self-determination.”
“I will talk with the Governor about this,” said the man, turning around and storming off, the strange fungoid people falling in behind them.
Several of them oriented on the projection equipment, and the Admiral had a bad feeling about that. She walked over to the Lt. Commander and caught his attention. “I want you to put a Marine guard on each and every one of these installations.”
“You think the Priest might try to sabotage these things,” said the young man, a horrified expression on his face.
“I hope not. But I don’t want to take any chances.” With that, she walked to her aircar and let the driver take her back to the landing field set up a hundred kilometers away, on top of the slowly advancing glaciers, where it wouldn’t be in the way of anything.
She looked down on the world as the shuttle climbed smoothly into orbit on its grabber units. It was a beautiful world, the greens of fungoid vegetation covering the tropical regions, a more subdued green covering the grasslands up to the dazzling white of the glaciers. Almost half of the land masses were covered in that thick sheet of ice. Or at least the original land masses, as many areas that had once been under water were now exposed to the air by the receding seas.
Above the atmosphere the shuttle locked onto a large ship that was the Admiral’s flag, the hyper VI battleship King William II. There were many other vessels around her, mostly freighters and logistics ships. Sunlight reflected from an object up in geosync, a massive fort being constructed, one of several. Closer in were the forms of orbital factories. That was all they were, the forms.
“Admiral on the bridge,” called out the first officer to see her enter her flag station.
“At ease,” she ordered, throwing herself in the comfortable chair that was her throne on deployment. “Get the Admiralty on the com,” she told her Communications Officer, then waited for the signal to go out through the wormhole. I’ll be damned if we’re not ready for the Emperor, or our other visitors.
* * *
CORE SPACE, AUGUST 24TH, 1001.
Emperor Augustine I was two days out in hyper VI, almost to her present terminal velocity of point nine three c, which would give her a pseudo speed of eight thousand five hundred and seventy times the speed of light. Her two sister ships were just behind her, and they were surrounded by an augmented Emperor’s Protection Squadron. The three huge ships were weighted down by an extra six million tons of mass, the special equipment they needed for this operation, and were only able to generate a hyper VI field around the extra hardware, slowing their passage. The other two dreadnoughts had been left behind. They would not be ready for deployment for another two weeks. If they could get to the Congreeve system before the Cacas, so much the better. If not, he would have to fight without them.
I almost wish we didn’t have the Protection Squadron along with us, thought Sean, looking at the tactical holo that showed the force in formation. It would be a treat to see a couple of their raiders strike what they were sure were helpless unguarded targets, only to be shocked by what they had tangled with.
“I just wish we could come up with a better name than Dreadnoughts,” he told the holo image of his Chief of Naval Operations, Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom. “It just seems so, retro.”
“The term superbattleship is already taken, your Majesty,” said the image of the woman after a moment’s delay. Transmission through the wormhole was of course instantaneous, but there was some delay due to the thousands of kilometers of light speed relays through the com systems. Not much of a delay, but noticeable. “It’s up to you, of course, what they are named.”
“Maybe we could hold a contest,” said the image of Countess Haruko Kawasaki, the Prime Minister. “Perhaps have a designated prize for the winner. With you as the judge, of course, your Majesty.”
“Don’t you think there are more important things to discuss?” asked Jennifer Conway, sitting in the seat next to Sean.
“Of course,” said Sean, looking at the Prime Minister. “Go ahead and get something going on that contest idea.” And what do we name the next monstrosity we build. And how much larger will it be. Sean’s father had loved to watch old movies made prior to humankind fleeing its homeworld. Sean remembered one which featured a spaceship the size of a small moon, which had to suck up an inordinate amount of resources. He had laughed at the concept. But now, with the completion of a space station that outmassed that fantasy ship by orders of magnitude, even if it did take a century to construct, he was not so sure. “So, what’s next on the agenda.”
“Bureau Ships have come up with some modifications for our new designs for vessel construction,” said McCullom, as images of the ships in question flashed onto the holo. “Analysis of the engagements in this war had led to the conclusion that we need a better class of screening vessel, in order to protect our best missile platforms. While at the same time maximizing their own long range engagement potential.”
Three ships were displayed on the holo, each in the destroyer range, though the figures below them indicated that they were much bigger
than the standard tin can. “All of these ships are of course hyper VII, which has to be the new standard in this war. Each is specialized for one task, though capable of fulfilling multiple roles.
“The first vessel is a dedicated fleet defense ship,” said McCullom, as one of the vessels expanded on the holo. “Two hundred and fifty-six thousand tons, with an extra laser ring, double the number of close in projectile weapons, and expanded long and short range counter missile magazines. Her task is to screen the battle force, though she still packs a sting with sixty destroyer class missiles, about sixty percent of what a general purpose DD carries today. Four hundred and ninety gee accel, which gives them enough to maneuver past the profile of the capital ships they serve with.
“This second ship is the strike version,” said the CNO, as the first ship shrunk into the background and the vessel in question expanded. “Two hundred and fifty-eight thousand tons, she carries eighty DD missiles for smaller targets, but deploys increased long range engagement capabilities with fifty battleship class missiles. It’s thought that these ships could be the prefect system raiders, popping into normal space at the edge of the hyper limit, launching their ship killers, and jumping back. Five hundred and forty gee accel, which puts them in the same range as the enemy scout ships.
“And then we have the scout version, which could also double as an anti-pirate vessel. Two hundred and fifty-two thousand tons, with a hundred and twenty DD missiles, twenty more than currently carried. Same accel profile as the strike version. Bureau ships think that most of the new construction should go into the Fleet Defense version, based on the needs of the war against the Ca’cadasans.”
“And the light cruisers?” asked Sean, just before the destroyers disappeared from the holo, to be replaced be two larger ships.
“Only two versions of light cruisers, since we combined the scout and strike functions in one. That version is nine hundred and eighty thousand tons, and carries one hundred and twenty cruiser missiles, plus fifty of the battleship variety. Five hundred and ten gee accel. And finally the Fleet Defense version. Nine hundred and sixty-five thousand tons, with one hundred and forty cruiser missiles, and greatly expanded defensive capabilities, much like the Fleet Defense Destroyers. They are configured to be screen command ships as well.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 06 - The Day of Battle Page 6