How I hate these vermin, thought the Ca’cadasan noble, clenching four fists as he tried to will his force to move faster into orbit around this world, so he could complete the destruction of this local population. He grimaced at every sign that humans still survived on that world.
Ca’cadasans didn’t remember like humans did. With natural life spans in the thousands of years, their metabolism was much slower than that of most carbon based forms. That included the metabolism, and thus the energy requirements, of their brains. Those brains were over twice the weight of a human organ, with three times the number of neurons. But the neurons each had only a tenth of the connections of a human mind. Thus, the average Ca’cadasan, though not stupid, was less than mentally nimble. They thought long and deep about most problems, when their attention spans allowed such.
They didn’t remember day to day occurrences like humans did. Anything not of vital importance was ejected from their memories within a standard year. Only salient events remained. As a noble, most of the High Admiral’s salient events revolved around battles won, great honors and ceremonies, early friendships. He had been a close friend with the Imperial Heir of two thousand years ago, growing up with him in the palace, constant companions from the day they had both left and forgotten their mothers, and moved into the society of males who would train them in their skills as Ca’cadasan warriors. They had moved up the early ranks together, had their first sexual encounters with the sterile females who served as the pleasure slaves to warriors. Jarkastarin had been a favorite of the Emperor, due to his friendship with the son, and was looking forward to an eventual high command, a Great Admiral in charge of one of the conquest fleets.
And then the son, his cousin, had died, killed by a human on one of their pitiful colony worlds, after the leaders of that world had offered surrender. That was one of the greatest crimes a species could offer to a Ca’cadasan conquest force. It normally led to the Empire crushing said species, and making them the lowest form of slave. This had involved the death of the Cacada next in line for the throne, and the Emperor had decreed that everything human was to be destroyed. Every man, woman and child, every animal and plant, even the microbes that inhabited their planet. The pattern of their world’s life was to be wiped from the Universe.
And then the humans had pulled one more infuriating act, sending enough of their people fleeing in great colony ships, out of the grasp of the Empire. Most of the ships had been destroyed. Two hadn’t been, though it was truly unknown if either of them had made it to safety. After that the Emperor had changed his mind, as they often did, and had ordered that some of the captive humans be spared, so that a breeding colony could be established, and they be used against their own kind, when they were found.
The Emperor died of old age, as all Cacada did, eventually. The second son, one who grew up after Jarkastarin and his friend, the first son, attained the throne, and the cousin found himself exiled from the palace, no longer welcome among the court of an Emperor who did not know him. It had taken centuries getting back into the Emperor’s favor, veritable belly crawling, swallowing his pride and performing any task asked of him. He was now tolerated by his Emperor, if not a favorite.
I wish I were one of the Gods, that I could punch holes in that planet with my fists, thought the Ca’cadasan as he watched more missile strikes.
“The ships that had been fleeing the planet have been destroyed,” said the Tactical Officer, his lips curled back in a predatory grin.
“Good,” said the High Admiral, ordering his side holo to play back the scenes of the destruction of the enemy force that had been guarding this system. “Nothing must escape here. All must be destroyed.”
It took the better part of another day to make sure that all Terran life had been eliminated from the system. Two days later the task force was jumping into hyper, on a course for Conundrum. Jarkastarin knew that the Great Admiral would be angry with him, but he really didn’t care. After all, the male would have to be crazy to take out his anger on an Imperial Cousin.
* * *
CONUNDRUM SYSTEM. NOVEMBER 9TH, 1001.
“We have ships jumping into hyper,” called out Ngovic over the com.
At least this time I’m awake, thought Suttler, looking up from his flat comp, where he had been completing a report to the Admiralty.
“What kind of ships?”
“Looks to be a hundred and fifteen of their courier vessels.”
Suttler thought about that for a moment and decided that it made sense. The Twenty thousand ton couriers were the Caca equivalent of the ten thousand ton Imperial version, small, fast ships used to carry messages between the fleet. There were still of use to the Imperial Fleet, even though the wormhole tech had revolutionized communications between forces. There were not enough wormholes to equip the more than one hundred thousand warships of the Empire, and small groups or single ships were always operating on the fringes. So couriers were still needed. But in the Ca’cadasan fleet they were still the most important piece of their communications pie.
“I think they are giving orders to all of their other ships,” said Suttler over the com.
“I sure hope they’re not calling in all the rest of their ships,” said Ngovic.
“I don’t think so. But if they are, we’re really in trouble. Make sure that HQ gets this information.” And of course they’re going to get this information, and any other we receive, whether I think to order it or not. But it was ingrained into his nature to give those orders, it was habit, and it didn’t hurt, in any case.
“Any movements of the main force?” he asked, again knowing that he would have already been told if that had happened. But the waiting was starting to get on his nerves. He knew the optimum time frame for the enemy fleet jumping, so they could get to Congreeve soon after the arrival of the Emperor. He figured that the enemy would want to get there after the Emperor had gotten well into the system, to make his escape more unlikely. And they have to know that the Emperor could possible get away by wormhole. And still take the chance. If they get him, they decapitate our Empire. If they don’t, they take out a good portion of our fleet in one battle, and destroy an industrial system at the same time. Or so they think.
Three hours later the expected event occurred. This time Suttler was sitting on the bridge, anxiously watching the holo and willing the enemy force to go ahead and jump. And then, to his surprise, a flood of graviton emissions hit the sensors of the Seastag. It took the computers a moment to sort through all of the signals, but soon the icons of enemy ships started dropping off the plot. Scores, hundreds, thousands, until the entire enemy force was gone. Their vector arrows continued on through hyper I, until they reached that barrier and jumped up to II.
“Let HQ know that the party has started,” said Suttler to his Com Officer. He looked over at Ngovic. “How many enemy ships left in the system?”
“We have a small force by each station, sir. Mostly their destroyer class, and some supercruisers. And there are some capital ships insystem.”
“Where they really can’t interfere with our party,” said Suttler with a smile. “Com. As soon as you finish the transmission to HQ, get the other ships linked in. Now we get to have some fun ourselves.”
Chapter Fifteen
FENRI SPACE. NOVEMBER 9TH, 1001.
“A large enemy force is approaching the system, Baggett,” said the Division Commander over the com.
Not unexpected, thought the Brigadier, tapping into the Fleet tactical net. There were several hundred Imperial ships in various orbits of the planet, over fifty in close in bombardment orbitals. There were several hundred more throughout the system, and another hundred sitting out at the hyper barrier. And over a thousand Fenri vessels in hyper VI, heading for the system. The Imperial Fleet for this operation did not have the number of wormholes that the average task force fighting the Cacas had. There just were not enough to go around. But there were a couple of wormholes with the Fleet in the system, and some mo
re with the scouting forces that were currently tracking the enemy. The estimate was that they would arrive in a day and a half. We knew it was coming, and we hoped it would be big. And here it is.
It was all part of the plan to cripple the Fenri war effort. The system was not that important, despite being a major military base. What was important was destroying most of the Fenri mobile assets. It was well known that the little mammalians were extremely territorial. It was built into the substance they used in the place of DNA. They were driven to territoriality, both with their planets and their slaves. Taking a major world with over a billion slaves would send them into a frenzy. And obviously it had.
The vector arrows around the planet reoriented to a path that would lead outsystem. The same with the other ships in the system. A major battle was coming their way, and the force at the hyper limit was seriously outnumbered. In fact, the entire human fleet was. Or so it seems, thought Baggett, dropping out of the naval link and into the Army’s version.
“They’ll probably wait until the Fleet has moved most of their units a day or so away before they strike,” said the Corps Commander, also in the link.
“Waiting until our top cover has deserted us,” said another Division Commander, this one a Phlistaran.
But how much will they have to throw at us? That’s the million Imperial question.
“You brigade commanders know what to do,” said the Corps Commander. “Get your reaction forces ready, and be prepared to move.”
“Yes, sir,” acknowledged Baggett over the link, then dropped out to link with his own command. “All armored units report to grid four twenty one. Be prepared to move out on the order of the Corps Commander.” The acknowledgements came back over the net, the battalion and four company commanders. “Heavy infantry units, keep your heads down and get ready for the shit to hit it.”
Baggett again consulted his map, a real time view of his area of operations from space. His men were in good defensive positions, heavy weapons emplaced. Resistance had been light and sporadic for the last week. The only action had come from patrols that moved through the contested areas, taking on what enemies they could find. The Fenri fought hard when we landed, at least for a week. But our assessment of their military capabilities of this planet doesn’t jive with what we have destroyed. They have a lot more hidden away, unless we were mistaken in our assessment. And that isn’t the smart way to think.
A day and a half later the Fenri force arrived with blood in their eyes. Baggett watched over the naval link, the action transmitted insystem by wormhole com link from the flagship to the ship still in charge of the orbital element. The Fenri force jumped enmass, into a hornet’s nest of Imperial ships arrayed around them. Missiles, launched hours before from more distant ships, bore into the enemy formation, having built up to high velocity to maximize their striking power, and timed to arrive at the same time as the enemy jump. The ships closer in struck with lasers and particle beams, while thousands of the small attack craft known as fighters accelerated into the assault at just under a thousand gravities, to launch their missiles close in.
Actinic points of light blossomed in space as gigaton class warheads detonated, or the antimatter of ships lost containment after an especially fierce hit. At one point the feed died, an indication that the transmitting ship had taken a major hit. It came back on seconds later as redundant systems took over.
Those poor bastards, thought Baggett of his people out there in that slugging match. For the Fenri he spared not a thought. They were a race of slavers, and so beneath pity.
The Fenri were caught by total surprise, but still heavily outnumbered the human fleet. They didn’t panic, and counter attacked as soon as they acquired targets. Soon human ships were absorbing damage, ships dropping off the tactical plot as their grabbers went offline, or the vessels were destroyed. More Fenri ships came jumping in, raising the enemy advantage. The Fenri must have expected the human force to break off and run. That wasn’t in the tradition of the only fleet in the region to never lose a war. The human ships continued to close with the enemy, getting into a knife fight that seemed to have only one possible conclusion.
And then the Fenri ground forces rolled out their offensive.
* * *
The first indication of the attack was the blaze of static as jammers that had been well hidden came online. Scores of hidden shore batteries opened up on the ships in orbit a moment later. A pair of destroyers went up in bright flashes as cruiser strength particle beams ate through their hulls, before they had a chance to strengthen cold plasma shields, or to evade. A heavy cruiser got into a duel with four of the shore batteries, a battle that raged for over an hour, leaving three of the four sites as holes in the ground, and the crippled cruiser orbiting the planet, of no use to the ground forces.
Minutes after the start of the attack the ground forces came out of hiding. Tracking systems couldn’t get an accurate count during the initiation of hostilities. Initial estimates were two divisions. Within fifteen minutes that was raised to from three to four, a larger force than the three human divisions opposing them.
Smart, thought Baggett, as he tried to get a handle on what his brigade was facing. They knew we had the advantage controlling the orbitals, so they hid away after taking their lumps for a week to make it seem real.
The enemy jamming made it almost impossible to get good intel on their disposition. Of course, the enemy could look through their own jamming, since they knew the random looking patterns. So the Imperial forces reciprocated, filling the airwaves with their own jamming, while the heavy infantry units swiftly redeployed to secondary positions.
Fenri artillery pounded the positions where the heavy infantry had been, hitting nothing, while the troopers occupied their new positions and prepared for ground assault. That assault came sooner than expected, though the enemy walked into positions that they did not expect.
“Here they come.” yelled one the company commanders over the brigade net.
Baggett had moved to a command bunker, overlooking the plain on which the Fenri were moving. There were thousands of them, Fenri in heavy suits, armored personnel carriers and vehicles, mecha. Some of the mecha were truly large specimens of the machines, almost a thousand tons of twenty meter tall walking manned robot.
They were truly mighty war machines, heavily armed and armored. They carried a variety of weapons, lasers, particle beams and projectiles, including heavy grenades. A hit by one of the beam weapons would half vaporize a heavy armor infantry suit. One of the projectile weapons would tear through that armor like paper. And there was a reason the Empire had abandoned the machines over a century ago.
“Fire,” came the order over the net, and every weapon along the front opened up. Beam weapons, projectiles, artillery, missiles, all struck into the heart of the enemy formation. Visibility was poor, jamming was heavy, and targets were not easily seen on the planetary tactical net. Local sensors were something different. With enough power they could see through the jamming for tens of kilometers, which was enough.
The closest mecha were all hit by missiles that came in at ten thousand meters per second, exposing their greatest weakness. They couldn’t carry the weight of armor that a tank could, and as a result the armor they carried was much thinner. And they were big targets, towering into the air. Missiles that struck ripped through that thin armor, tearing off legs, arms, or punching through the pilot compartment to spray the gore of a Fenri out the other side.
The first volley of hyper velocity missiles killed almost a hundred mecha. The second killed another fifty, and then the remaining fifty turned and fired.
Hyper velocity missiles tore through the positions of the brigade, ripping through earth mounds, blasting dirt into the air, throwing heavy suits toward the sky as shredded manikins with dripping organic matter inside. Particle beams followed, sweeping across the trench lines and killing more troopers. Artillery appeared on scanner fields, coming down on the human positions. And the
Fenri moved toward the brigade, Mecha running flat out, suits bounding over the ground or flying close to the earth.
And they entered the minefield. Small devices popped into the air to explode near suits, or to send strong beams of coherent energy at the nearest moving object. Heavy weapons emplacements sent powerful particle beams sweeping along a meter above the ground, splashing alloy off of suits in passing. Where they didn’t kill, they destroyed sensors, joints and weapons, degrading the effectiveness of suits.
Artillery rounds started their drop, more than the defensive systems of the brigade could handle. At four hundred meters above the ground they penetrated the swarm of micro drones that had been deployed as a screen. The rounds exploded in their thousands as drones acquired, sped to them, exploded, and took them out.
More drones sped over the battlefield in their thousands, targeting the enemy suits and mecha. Defensive systems took out over half of them out. The others struck, with enough explosive force to damage, if not destroy, further degrading the effectiveness of more of the enemy weapons and armor.
It was a hard fight, and not one sided. But in the end the humans won, trading over five hundred lives for two full brigades of the enemy.
Baggett linked back into the Corps net as the fire fight died down. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he noted the traffic. All of the fights had gone their way. There had been heavier losses in some of the fights, and some larger enemy units had been destroyed in some close contests. Units that had encountered the Phlistaran division had been shredded even faster than the others against the heavily armed centauroids. But the Phlistarans had also taken crippling losses, thanks to their armored forms making bigger targets than suited humans.
“Alert,” yelled out a voice over the net. “We have armor on the move.”
Baggett cursed at that pronouncement. It was known that the enemy had real tanks, though not how many. If it was a large force it could destroy a heavy infantry brigade, even if it took heavy losses itself.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 06 - The Day of Battle Page 20