Exodus: Empires at War: Book 06 - The Day of Battle

by Doug Dandridge

  Infrared was one of the few things he couldn’t control, and since he couldn’t get his hands on an Imperial wormhole, no matter his wealth, he just had to live with that. He had units on board that tried to mimic the infrared signature of said frigate, but he wasn’t sure how accurate the image was, unlike the visual image given off by his holographic projectors.

  Now, if only the idiots ignore me for another seven of hours, I’m set, he thought, looking again at the holo that showed almost all the Fleet vessels on the other side of the system, the side they expected the Ca’cadasans to come from.

  And when I get to the ear of my friends, he thought, in his mind already at the Core World that was closest to his current location. I’ll get on the hyperwave com, and heads will roll. It would still take a day or two to send the message over the chain of relays that had been the latest thing in communications prior to the development of wormhole tech. But he didn’t think he would take the chance of sending it by wormhole, which the Core world was sure to have, when he could signal the hyperwave station just outside the barrier, and not attract as much attention as would come from boosting into the system.

  “Unknown ship. Unknown ship. Please identify yourself,” came a voice over the com.

  He smiled as he looked at the direction of the transmission, which would put it on an Imperial ship almost a light hour away. Which gave him time to stall. If only I could have learned one of their pass codes, he thought, realizing that such would probably not have done much good if he had. He would also have had to send a ship identity code, and they would have known he was a fake from the start.

  He waited for a few minutes, then sent his reply, hoping it would buy him just a little more time. Of course, the com kept up a running monologue of demands for him to identify himself. He was happy to listen to them, as it meant they were not firing at him.

  Just a little under two hours later he got the reply to his. “Negative, unknown ship. You are not Imperial Frigate FG-48351. That ship is not in this system. You will immediately change your vector back into the system, or we will open fire.”

  “Shit,” yelled Prester. He had expected something like this if they discovered him. But much later into the conversation. He knew they would have a good idea of when he received the message, and would only give him so much time to respond.

  “We have missile launch,” said the infuriatingly calm voice of the ship’s computer, as if it didn’t care that it was the target. “Ten missiles on track for this vessel at five thousand gravities. ETA, four hours, fifteen minutes.”

  And I’ll be at the hyper barrier in five hours. He checked the tactical display and was satisfied that the ship firing at him was the closest, though he was picking up movement in the outer system, beyond the hyper barrier. And now I guess there’s no way I’m going to just waltz out of here.

  Now he utilized the next trick in his repertoire. The ship, which had been accelerating at four hundred gravities, leapt ahead at nine hundred, the same rate as a large attack craft. Jammers of similar capabilities to a real frigate started to work, making the ship a harder target to track, while at the same time calling more attention to itself by its unusual behavior.

  Time to add some more acceleration to this baby, thought the trillionaire, raising a tank from the deck and opening the hatch. He stripped down to his skintight survival suit and stepped into the tube, which, after he had fitted his breathing mask, began to fill with liquid. Prester had linked into the computer at a deeper level as he was doing all this, essentially becoming one with the ship.

  As he floated easily in the liquid the ship added another thirty gravities, above what her compensators could handle. He looked out on the system through his ship’s sensors, linked directly to his brain. It was much like being a god, looking out on all creation. But unlike a god, he could be killed.

  The com kept yelling for him to stop with the voice of the naval officer on the other end. He would have blocked the transmission, but there was always the hope that some information could come through that would be of aid to him. He didn’t even bother replying. All he could do was lie, and over the time he would have trouble keeping the lie straight. So he decided to try another tact.

  “This is Prester Johnson, a citizen of the Empire,” he broadcast over a broadband to every ship in the system. “I was being held against my will by the Imperial military on Congreeve, in violation of my rights. I am in the process of escaping from unlawful imprisonment. Everything that has happened since I boarded this ship is being recorded, including the illegal firing of Imperial Fleet missiles at a civilian ship belonging to me. This puts myself and my crew at extreme risk.” And they have no idea if I’m telling the truth about the crew, he thought with a mental smile. That should mess with their minds.

  The line about recording everything was true. The ship was storing all sensor returns, com records, even his vital signs, in the memories of a pair of drones onboard. They were also nonstandard tech for civilians. Things that would also come as a surprise to the Fleet, if he had to use them.

  He waited over the hours, the ship continuing to broadcast his combination plea and threat over and over throughout the system. He also pulsed his hyperdrive, sending out a digital code of the same message. Every ship in the system would get it, and maybe someone on one of those ships would deviate from procedure. Which could be to his benefit.

  The missiles kept coming, closing the distance as they piled on the acceleration. They were only closing at point three light when they went into the final acquisition phase. Prester prayed to the God he had grown up with, but hadn’t spent much time with in adulthood, that the missiles were standard singular warheads, and not the multiple weapons he had been hearing about.

  It was not illegal for civilian ships to carry weapons, at least some kinds. Every merchant ship and tanker had lasers, for use against pirates, and to clear the space lanes of hazards. His ship was equipped with lasers, of a very advanced and powerful type, usually only found on fighters. When the missiles were within the range where he had an outside chance of hitting them, he had the lasers cycle on a pattern most likely to generate a hit. Of course, as soon as the missiles were fired on they started into a random evasive pattern. He hit one with the first volley, then two more with the next. Warheads detonated in space, from the blast he estimated in the fifty megaton range. That was a relief, as they weren’t trying to hit him with multiple warheads, or with capital ship killers. That made sense, but he didn’t always expect the Fleet to make sense.

  He got three more, and was starting to sweat that one or more would get through, when the remaining missiles exploded in space. They sent a self-destruct signal, he thought with relief. Those traveled at light speed, so had to have been sent hours ago, in time to reach them before they hit him. Just in time. He was just about to order the final trick up his sleeve. Well, not the final one, but the next to last. His ship was actually two vessels, and he was willing to sacrifice the one to save the part he was in. Now he didn’t have to.

  “Mr. Johnson,” came a call over the com, another voice, one he recognized as belonging to Rear Admiral Adrijana Miroslav. “You are in violation of so many laws that I could have you thrown in prison for fifty years. However, if you start deceleration as soon as you get this message I will have all charges dropped. You don’t know what danger you are in.”

  “I’ll follow your instructions,” he replied, ordering the ship to start deceleration at the maximum rate he could take in the tank. And they’ll see that, and think I am following directions.

  Two hours later the next transmission came over the com, while he watched a trio of destroyers moving in ahead, accelerating to match velocities with him further out of the system. And he was picking up the signals of ships in hyper, waiting for him to jump. “Prepare to be boarded, when the destroyers have matched velocities and vectors,” said the Admiral.

  Like hell, thought Prester, watching as his velocity dropped, to soon reach the point wher
e he needed it to be for his last trick. At point four light he pulled the final mind screwing of the day.

  Not many ships still used sublight drives. Some in the Supersystem, where it made sense to have a cheap drive on ships that only had to move a score of light hours between systems. He was sure that none of the ships in this system had one, except for him.

  The hole in space opened ahead, a circle of glowing red, a slightly different shade than hyperspace. The Enigma slid into the hole, which closed behind it, sealing him off from the normal Universe. Made it, thought Prester with a mental laugh. He changed the vector on the drive, again accelerating, but this time at a more reasonable rate of five hundred gravities. The tube evacuated its liquid, allowing him to leave, and he came out of total link with a feeling of profound regret. They’re right about that stuff being addictive, he thought about link. There was a reason the Fleet didn’t allow their people to spend too much time in it. It was seductively powerful feeling Godlike.

  He moved to the pilot’s station and planned his course. He would remain in subspace for the next week. Subspace was a very slow dimension in which to travel interstellar space, with a correspondence of twelve to one with the normal Universe. At his maximum safe velocity of point nine six light, he would only be able to achieve a pseudo speed of eleven point five c. But in a week he could get far enough away where he could drop out of subspace, and jump to hyper without being detected from the system. Something out there might detect him, especially if it was sitting in normal space, but he was willing to take that chance.

  And then I’ll hand the bastards their asses.

  * * *

  “What in the hell possessed you to fire on a civilian vessel?” asked Rear Admiral Adrijana Miroslav to the captain of the ship that had fired the missiles.

  “Traffic control informed us that they had a ship trying to escape the system, masquerading as a military vessel. What the hell was I supposed to do, Admiral? Let him go, on an unknown task that was probably not of benefit to our operation.”

  The Admiral looked at the man on the com holo, not sure what to say. It was the correct response, given the information he had. But the political rebound could have been disastrous for the Fleet, at least in the short run.

  “Am I going on report?” asked the Captain, anxiety in his voice.

  And that would screw your chances of making commodore, thought Miroslav, shaking her head. “No, Captain. You will not go on report. In fact, this incident will be expunged from your record. But I have to warn you. In the future, think, before you push that firing button. OK?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And for your information, Captain. That does not go for the Cacas that will be coming into this system. You can light their asses up as soon as you get the word. But only then.”

  She cut the com and sat there for a moment, thinking. What in the hell was that selfish bastard trying to accomplish with that stunt he pulled? Whatever it was, it can’t be good for us. Maybe I should have let those missiles hit him, and let Captain Stanislav take the fall. She shook her head again. That wouldn’t be right, no matter how convenient it would have been.

  And then she had another thought, recalling how the citizen’s ship had made them all look like fools. We might need for our R and D boys to look into how he did that. Such tricks might come in handy for our special ops boys, or our scouts.

  Chapter Twenty

  CONGREEVE SPACE. NOVEMBER 16TH, 1001.

  “We’re getting ready for the final jump, your Majesty,” called out the ship’s Captain, Montoya, on the com.

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Sean, activating the holo in his office to look out over the space ahead of the ship. Of course, all he saw now was the red of hyper I, and the dark sphere ahead that was the gravity well they were approaching. If they entered that dark sphere they would be thrown out of hyper in a catastrophic translation, their survival a low probability.

  And this is what the Cacas will see as they approach the system. He switched to tactical for a moment, picking up the graviton emissions of a few ships moving within the system at high acceleration. And some ships in hyper outside the barrier. That part will be much different, he thought, imagining the vessels the Cacas would pick up. There had to be enough movement for the enemy to take the bait. What looked like a heavy task force coming out to meet them. Otherwise, they might have enough time to do an emergency decel, and move back out of the system and into hyper jump space before they could be engaged. Some of their ships might continue inward to take out what they thought was there, but some would not be enough.

  “All crew, prepare for jump to normal space in ten seconds.”

  Sean prepared his body for the jump, something which did not have much of an effect on his stomach. There really wouldn’t be much of an effect for most of the crew, as the ship would slide through the hole between the dimensions with no appreciable physical sensations, except the nausea that all humans, and most aliens, experienced to varying degrees. Sean was in the upper one percent of people who weren’t affected. He would feel a very slight nausea for about one second.

  And poor Jennifer will be puking her guts out, he thought of his fiancé. She was at the opposite end of the spectrum, in the fraction of one percent who was violently ill no matter what. She could ingest medications to take some of the edge off, but not much else could be done. He would have been with her now, to comfort her, but she preferred to be sick in private, and so he respected her wishes.

  The lights dimmed for a fraction of a second as the ship channeled all power into the transition, and a circle opened up in the black backdrop of the gravity well to the front. That hole revealed the bright point of a nearby star, surrounded by the glory of the heavens around it. The ship slipped through, the moment of nausea came and passed, and the Augustine I was in normal space.

  The data came flooding in, and Sean sampled them through his link with the ship. Electromagnetic waves from the millions of stars in the globe surrounding, graviton emissions from hundreds of ships, the impact of physical particles on the hull. It was almost overwhelming, and it took the ship a couple of seconds to sort through that data and present it in a form a human brain could interpret.

  He took a second or so to take all of that in, then concentrated his attention on the nearer surroundings. There was nothing on the sensors from out system, at least at first. With a closer look he could make out some of the ships that were not yet in hiding, sitting a light hour away. Each was stationed near an iceball, some larger groups near the truly enormous planetoids. They would move into hiding when they were sure when and where the Cacas were coming into normal space, so they could be positive that their placement would cover them, somewhat. He knew that other ships were actually burrowed into some of those iceballs, where they wouldn’t be detected no matter what angle the enemy ships came into normal space.

  Next he switched the focus into the system. There were ships there, in a formation near the planet. A small battle fleet that looked like the perfect target for a superior force. There were a couple of score ships moving through other areas of the system on what looked like standard patrols. And then there were the ships that were in hiding, at the moment sending out transponder signals that let the rest of the Imperial force know where they were.

  Lastly, he switched the input to the planet and its orbit, and was very impressed by what he saw. A planet that shone with the electromagnetic signature of a developing world. The light of cities lit up the dark side that was facing the Emperor’s ship, while the heat signatures of industrial processes radiated from just outside those habitations.

  The orbits were even more impressive. Several large space docks, a trio of class I forts, and hundreds of smaller structures. There were civilian vessels in orbit as well, ore freighters, liners and some interstellar cargo ships. And a half dozen ships going to and from the asteroid belt, obviously running ores from the orbiting rocks to the industrial complexes in orbit about the planet.
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br />   “It’s perfect,” whispered Sean, as he tried to find a flaw and couldn’t. And if he couldn’t, he didn’t think an alien with less than perfect knowledge of human planets could.

  “Does it meet with your approval, your Majesty?” came the voice of Captain Mary Innocent over his personal com link.

  “Very much so. How about the information planted in the press.”

  “All of the major news outlets have been covering the development of this world,” said the Intelligence Officer. “Everything we have planted, they used, just as they agreed to in their deal with the Regent. As far as the Empire knows, we have a new developing world out here. And the electronic trail to prove it.”

  That had been one of the Emperor’s major worries. He knew there were enemy intelligence nets in operations in his Empire. If not the Cacas, then one of his other less than friendly neighbors, who might be giving secrets to the huge aliens. Like the Knockermen, or the Fenri, or even some of the friendly governments who might have some less than friendly hidden agendas.

  So we had thousands of people behind the scenes generating the messages that people would send to loved ones on Core worlds, even if such loved ones didn’t exist. Invoices and orders, even some shipments of materials that the Fleet was able to move to other places where they could be put to use. A terrible waste of effort if they didn’t come.

  But they were coming, with what appeared to be an overwhelming force that would be able to defeat any Imperial force that might be waiting. Just the response that would be expected of the arrogant aliens. And we’re going to ram your arrogance up your asses, he thought, a smile on his face. Of course, then came the doubts that the young man always lived with. The thoughts of how much he might lose in this operation. Replaceable ships and irreplaceable people. No matter how positive the outcome, people were going to lose loved ones here, dads and moms, sons and daughters, husbands and wives. And he would feel guilty for every damned one of them, no matter how necessary.