“What are your orders, Madame President?” asked the Crakista Admiral over the newly reactivated holo.
“Defend this system. I really don’t care how you do it, as long as this planet is not damaged.”
“It will be my pleasure, Madame President,” said the reptilian, its snout curving into the only emotion she had yet to see on its face.
They evolved from hunters, and I have given them a hunt. One of the few things that still gives them pleasure. One of the few things that gets through that wall of logic that allowed them to rise to civilization, despite their genetic heritage.
“Enemy will be at the hyper I barrier in seven minutes,” came the voice over the com of a controller in the New Terran Fleet Command Center, which was on the planet. The center, with its many wormhole connections, including those to the ships occupying the picket line into Imperial Space, was one reason it was considered efficacious to hold the planet.
“We will have a surprise for them,” said the Crakista Admiral, linking into the com. “All units will stay in the shadow of the planet, using only enough aether paddle energy to maintain station. New Terran Republic units will move toward the planet, and make all preparations as if they are the only ships in the system, preparing to defend the world.”
“I hope your trap works, Admiral,” said the President, pulling up a tactical that showed the enemy vessels on approach, very near to the hyper barrier, when they would have to jump back into normal space or risk destruction.
“We have translations,” came the voice of the controller at the command center. “Multiple translations to normal space.”
Well, I could always have hoped that their commander was a total idiot. But that just wouldn’t be our luck.
* * *
“Visual shows enemy force in orbit around the habitable planet,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the Admiral in charge of the Ca’cadasan force. “Looks like eleven of their capital ships, and several dozen of their smaller vessels.”
“How far from the hyper limit to that planet?” asked the Admiral, looking at the small red star in the holo, and the smaller blue planet in close orbit.
“One and a half light hours, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer. “This star has a very small hyper limit as compared to most.”
“You do not have to lecture me on hyperspace and stellar physics, cub,” growled the Admiral. “I asked a simple question.” The Task Force Leader stood up from his chair and stepped toward the holo, pointing a pair of right index fingers at the view. “So, that is where they were an hour and a half ago, but where are they now?”
“We are picking up graviton emissions from a pair of what appear to be commercial vessels, my Lord,” answered the Sensor Officer. “No other signals in the system.”
“So those ships are either sitting in orbit, as they appear on the holo. Or they boosted while we were out of the system, and cut off their drives before we dropped out of hyper.”
“Where would they have gone that we wouldn’t see them?” asked the Tactical Officer.
“Nowhere. Unless they went behind the planet,” suggested the Helm Officer.
“No matter. They are not coming out to meet us, so we will go in and meet them,” said the Admiral. “Then we will bombard the planet, and destroy their headquarters.”
“Why not just bombard them with long range missile fire?” asked the Tactical Officer, an expectant look on his face.
“Because we don’t know what other life is on that planet, cub,” said the Admiral, glaring at the younger male. “If the world has non-Terran life forms, then we are not allowed to destroy it.”
“But, a world like that,” said the Tactical Officer, pointing at the holo. “It has to be artificially seeded with life, to be such a perfect habitat that close to a red star.”
“Untrue,” said the Sensor Officer. “We have found such worlds before. They are rare, but not unheard of.”
The Admiral looked at the world once again, weighing his options. Unlike most of the officers of the Ca’cadasan military, who were tending toward Atheism, he was a devout follower of his people’s religion. He adhered to the tenants that living worlds were sacred, and was not even sure that the command that the worlds terraformed with Earth forms were to be destroyed was really fitting to the dictates of his religion. Even though the command came from the Emperor. He would kill humans. He would do everything he could do to wipe them from the Universe. But he would not kill a living world.
“We will close with the planet and destroy the enemy naval force,” he said with finality. “Then we will decide to do about the planet, and the humans on it.”
* * *
“I have a question for you, Admiral,” said the President, looking at the reptilian face.
“You are wondering why I have everything hiding in Geosynch behind the planet,” said the Crakista.
A holo showed that disposition, all of the allied ships, as well as a couple of class I forts that had been built since the Xenia system became the defacto capital of the Republic.
“I wish to lure the enemy closer before giving battle. It is not enough to drive them off. They must be totally destroyed, with none escaping.”
“Not that I disagree, Admiral, with the killing of Cacas. But I am more concerned with keeping them away from the planet, and the command center.”
“If any escape, Madame President, they will tell others of their kind what is here, and more will come. If they don’t return, we will leave the enemy wondering what they ran into.”
“More will still come.”
“Yes,” said the Crakista with flat affect. “But they will take longer to come. First, the Ca’cadasans will wait and wonder what has happened, believing there was an unforeseen delay. Then, they will send a scout force to see what has happened, and we will destroy them as well. That will give us the time to make a decision on whether to move your command center, or to strengthen the defenses.”
“I see,” said Graham, ruminating over what the reptilian had said. “Very logical, as always. Proceed.”
“Thank you, Madame President. We will open fire when they are within fifteen light minutes. And the gate will give them a surprise they will not recover from.”
* * *
“The enemy ships are moving,” called out the Tactical Officer. “On a heading that will put them behind the planet.”
“Why would they do that?” asked the Helm Officer, looking confused.
“They want to take us on in close combat, since they know they don’t have a chance in a missile fight,” said the Tactical Officer.
“They really don’t have much of a chance in a close in fight either,” said the Admiral. “But it’s a better chance than throwing missiles against us. Just be prepared for anything.”
This will be too easy, thought the Ca’cadasan commander, studying the planet on the holo. Not that I am complaining. Easy is good.
* * *
“Prepare to execute plan, now,” said the Admiral Commanding Crakista Force One. As soon as the last word left her mouth the ships all began to move, as did the two forts and the wormhole gate. The forts and the gate could only move at a couple of gravities acceleration. Then again, they didn’t have to move far, as they were in close in orbits that already had them moving where they needed to go.
The warships sped ahead at half acceleration, over two hundred gravities, firing spreads of missiles as soon as they cleared the cover of the planet. As all the ships cleared within a twenty second period, all three hundred odd of them were firing on the enemy in a tight volley. That included seventy-three battleships, giving them a firepower advantage over the thirty enemy capital ships.
And then the missiles came out of the wormhole, accelerated up to point nine light on the other side. Two thousand of them, not quite enough to saturate the defenses of the entire Caca force. But enough to keep them busy while they tried to deal with the missiles from the allied force as well.
The miss
ile duel left twenty-three Caca ships, twelve of them superbattleships, all with varying amounts of damage. All headed toward the planet, with no way to avoid close proximity with the enemy. Sixty-one capital ships still manned the allied line. When they reached effective beam range, about a light minute, both sides opened up with every energy and light amp weapon in their arsenal.
The Caca ships carried more lasers on their larger vessels, in forty domes arrayed around the hull. They were only able to bring a little more than half of these weapons to bear, while the allied ships could all orient to bring every one of their light amp weapons to target, and most of their particle beams. Beams from laser rings and the noses of the Crakista vessels spanned the distance between the ships, mostly missing or making brief contact. As the distance decreased the accuracy increased, and both sides started taking major damage.
As the two forces passed each other, the allied ships barely moving, the Cacas sliding slowly into the system, ships began to explode in space, or outgas huge spouts of atmosphere. When they finished their closest approach, there were still fifty-five capital ships in the allied order of battle. Two superbattleships and a cruiser were all that were left of the enemy force, all heavily damaged.
“We will be boarding those ships and taking prisoners,” said the Crakista Admiral, looking at the President of the New Terran Republic on the com holo. “I am sure they will have information that will prove interesting, if not vital.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” said the President, an emotional response of some kind showing on her face. Control yourself human, thought the Admiral.
“I am sorry that your force took losses,” continued the woman.
The Admiral thought about that statement. She had lost nine ships, including five of her battleships. The New Moscow force had lost six capital ships, while the NTR squadron had lost eight of their eleven battleships through the vagaries of battle. On one of those ships had been the system commander.
“In battle one expects to take losses,” said the Admiral, pushing down the small surge of emotion that those losses had caused. “To think otherwise is not logical. We inflicted greater damage on the enemy force than they inflicted on us. And our force is still battle worthy, while theirs is not. We were the victor. That is all that is important.”
The Admiral could tell from the woman’s expression that she did not approve of her response. But what other response could there be, thought the Crakista, confused by the emotions of her allies, and wondering how far their alliance would go. Far enough to defeat these disgusting creatures, she thought, visualizing the Ca’cadasans. Beyond that, there is no need for further cooperation.
Chapter Ten
IMPERIAL SPACE, SEPTEMBER 28TH, 1001.
Even though she was now a duchess, and the fiancé’ of the Emperor, Jennifer Conway was still a physician first and foremost in her own mind. She had insisted on continuing to work her profession, even with those new titles. Even though she had been kidnapped and her life threatened while working in one of the largest hospitals in the capital city. That had led to her getting an assignment to the Naval Hospital in Capitulum, working with wounded veterans returned from the front. It was rewarding work, supervising the rebuild of young men and women who had given all but their lives to the defense of the Empire. Many would return to duty, those whose injuries were mostly physical. Some, those suffering severe mental trauma for which there was no quick cure, would not, but they would still find ways to serve.
When Sean had decided he would be with the bait force for the planned Decisive Battle, Jennifer had insisted on going along. Many fights had led to her getting her way, and here she was on the dreadnought Augustine I. They were still trying to come up with a different term for the new class of ships, since superbattleship was already taken by the twenty million ton class. At twenty-seven million tons, they were a much more capable battle class. But dreadnought was the name they were stuck with, for now.
She still performed as a doctor, and had a duty assignment on the ship as a staff physician. As a civilian, she really wasn’t under the Chief Physician of the ship, though she voluntarily served as an assistant staff doctor.
But this is boring as hell, she thought, supervising a finger regrowth of a naval rating, one of the few injuries she had seen since coming aboard the ship. It was hard to find work for a doctor aboard a vessel that was crewed by perfectly healthy specimens of humanity, all protected against any form of contagion by their internal nanites. The Spacer had cut off a finger in a fabrication accident in engineering. The finger had been destroyed in the accident. Limb regrowth had been a common practice for the last thousand years, really something that any nurse or medic could accomplish. It was a waste of a doctor’s time, though fleet regulations called for a physician to sign off on every stage of the process.
And there’s not even one pregnant woman to look after, she thought as she walked to the locker room to remove her portable sterile field generator. Of course, fleet regulations prohibited pregnancies among serving females. So their internal nanites were set to prevent the production of viable eggs, and further to prevent the viability of sperm entering their systems, making it doubly impossible for a pregnancy to occur. She was the only female aboard capable of becoming pregnant, and she had her own nanites programed to prevent any fertilized egg from taking hold in her placental wall. Producing and heir could come later, after the wedding.
The private quarters were the same as always, empty, with the exception of Sean’s cat. The little half grown Himalayan greeted her as she walked through the door. Even the steward was gone, as he was most days, supervising the evening meal, which Sean used as a bonding exercise with his staff.
“I guess it’s just you and me, Killer,” she told the cat as he jumped up beside her on the couch. There were still hours till dinner, which she would be expected to attend in the large state dining room three decks down. She stroked the purring ball of fur as she thought with dread about yet another meal where everyone talked shop, and she was politely excluded from the conversation.
She lay back on the couch and closed her eyes, as the juvenile nestled in close to her and purred her to sleep. An hour later her implant woke her, letting her know it was time to get prepared for the meal. The cat was still lying next to her, still purring, though obviously asleep. She gently moved it out of the way and got up, heading for the shower.
“So glad you could join us, Duchess,” said the Steward, John Jacobs, acting as door greeter as he supervised the serving of the wine and appetizers. “You are most lovely tonight, as always.”
Jennifer nodded and headed for her seat, down the table from Sean, a place that didn’t even allow conversation with her lover. The same greeting every night, she thought, as she listened to the officers greet her and she returned a similarly inane reply.
Dinner was spectacular, as it always was. Jacobs was a first class chef, and he always did a fantastic job of supervising what had to be the best mess staff in the Fleet. Dinner was range fed beef and Capitulum lobster, along with some side dishes she did not recognize, but which tasted delightful. Or would have, if she had any interest in them. She watched as her fiancé’ talked with his senior officers at the other end of the table, while she tried to provide interesting conversation to this night’s batch of junior officers, those whose time had come on the dinner rotation.
The night seemed to go on forever, with Jennifer becoming more and more angry as it progressed. She knew it would end as it always did, with Sean going off to another staff meeting, while she went back to their quarters to watch entertainment vids, or work on one hobby or another, with only the cat for company. Even the Steward would be absent, as always, supervising the prep for breakfast, or making sure that Sean’s staff meeting was served to his satisfaction.
As the Emperor declared dinner over Jennifer was on her feet, making her way through the officers to the head of the table before Sean could get away. She put a hand on his arm, looking at the Ad
miral he was talking to. “If you would excuse the Emperor for a moment, Countess,” she told the Admiral in a quiet voice.
The Admiral bowed and took a step back, and Sean turned toward Jennifer with a look of surprise on his face.
“We need to talk,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“How about we talk tomorrow,” he said, glancing at his waiting officers. “Now is not a good time. We have to go over the fleet dispositions for the New Terran Republic.”
“It is never a good time,” she said, feeling the warmth of tears flowing down her cheeks. “Maybe it never will be a good time.” She released her hold on his arm and spun around, walking quickly toward the entrance, dodging around people who didn’t know how to react to the angry Imperial Fiancé’s storming for the exit.
Jennifer made it halfway to the lift bank before Sean caught her, coming up behind her and putting his arms round her waist. In anger she pushed an elbow into his ribs, and he grunted in surprise, before shifting his hands to her arms and turning her around in place.
“Jennifer,” he said, a troubled look on his face. “What is wrong with you tonight?”
“I’m surprised that you got my name right,” she said, her face flushing with rage.
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Us is what I am talking about. You and me. Only there doesn’t seem to be an us. There seems to be a you, always busy, and a me, sitting on this ship with nothing to do.” She looked down at the floor, trying to stop the tears from coming.
“I warned you about coming,” said Sean, putting a hand under her chin and lifting her face to look at his.
“You warned me about the danger. Not about the, nothing.”
“And what can I do to make it better?”
“Spend some time with me, dammit,” she shouted, trying to pull away from him, and failing against his enhanced strength.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 06 - The Day of Battle Page 14