Imperial Command

by D. J. Holmes

  Lijal slowly bowed his head and was quiet for more than ten seconds. “Your words are harsh Admiral. But I understand the position from which they have been spoken. My species tried to resist the Karacknids. We were beaten in one swift battle. However, we have not lost our desire for freedom, nor our willingness to resist. We simply have no means to pursue either.” The alien supervisor was quiet for several more seconds before speaking again. “Perhaps there is another way,” he said as he raised his head and locked eyes with Lightfoot. “I presume you have detected that the two Karacknid stations in orbit are military stations.”

  Lightfoot nodded. “We have. And the craters on your planet’s surface. Have the Karacknids bombarded your species from space?”

  “They have,” Lijal confirmed. “That is why my species cannot risk resisting. But, if you could destroy those stations, then my people will be free from that risk. Even if only for a short time. We would gladly scuttle all of our mining operations and ships if given the chance to do so. You wouldn’t have to destroy anything then; we could do it for you. That way we can ensure everything is taken out.”

  Lightfoot kept his face straight, though his suspicion had spiked. “Even if we destroy those two orbital facilities, the Karacknids would be back. It’s likely a fleet is pursuing us. They could be here within days. Do you not fear further repercussions?”

  “That is possible,” Lijal said, actually speaking slower than before. “And yet we could blame the destruction on your fleet.”

  “You believe your leaders on your homeworld would accept such a plan?” Lightfoot pressed.

  “Without a doubt,” Lijal replied, speeding up his rate of speech. “My people are desperate for a means to give voice to our hatred for the Karacknids. They would embrace this idea with open arms.”

  “All right,” Lightfoot replied with a nod. “I will give it some thought and get back to you momentarily. Thank you for speaking with me superintendent.” Lightfoot ended the COM channel. “Well?” he asked as he turned to Rivers. “What do you think?”

  “It could be a ploy to try and save their skin,” Rivers responded. “It’s more than possible he would get into a lot of trouble if we destroyed his facilities.…”

  “But?” Lightfoot asked when he sensed Rivers had more to say.

  “But, destroying everything in the system would be quite a feat. We can only hit three of their facilities. If we could get all eight, and all their ships, and the storage facilities in orbit around their homeworld that would put a significant dent in Karacknid shipbuilding efforts, at least in this area of their Empire.”

  “Yes,” Lightfoot agreed as he looked back to the holo projection of the system, it certainly was buzzing with activity. “Taking everything out would be quite an accomplishment.” He came to a decision. “One we should pursue. Though, that doesn’t mean we won’t take our own precautions,” he added as number of backup options flooded his mind. Pulling up a data file he typed out instructions for his staff officers to pursue. “Contact Captain Gar’am and Jil’lal. I want Gar’am to dock with supervisor Lijal’s mining facility and take the Farmalian on board his ship. His squadron can close with the Karacknid orbital stations in stealth and engage them. I have other ideas for what the rest of our ships can do.”

  After a brief planning session with Jil’lal and Gar’am, Lightfoot returned the view of his holo projector to the Farmalian system. Still in stealth, his ships split up. One Varanni warship remained several light seconds away from Lijal’s mining facility. The rest of Gar’am’s ships waited for his ship to take Lijal on board, and then turned and headed towards the Farmalian homeworld. The Human and Vestarian warships broke into several small squadrons and spread out towards the other mining facilities. If the Farmalians didn’t follow through with their promises, Lightfoot was going to destroy all of their facilities himself.

  For the three hours it took for Gar’am to close with the Farmalian homeworld, Lightfoot couldn’t help glance back at the shift passage his ships had come through. There was simply no way to know if a Karacknid fleet was hot on their heels or not. The first warning they would get would be when a fleet lit off its engines. With his ships split up and spread out across the system, if they appeared now, he would be caught with his pants down. But there had been no sign of Karacknid scout ships or anything else yet. There was a good chance they had taken Scott’s bait. At least, Lightfoot hoped so.

  “Something is happening!” a sensor officer called out.

  “Let’s be a little bit more specific,” Rivers replied in a tone that suggested his officers needed to take a moment or two longer before reporting next time.

  “Right, sorry Captain. Energy spikes from the Farmalian homeworld. We… We’re getting larger ones now. They look like explosions. Two of them.” The gravimetric sensors beeped as a contact suddenly appeared accelerating towards the Farmalian homeworld.

  “They have destroyed the two Karacknid orbital stations,” Lightfoot concluded. Gar’am wouldn’t have revealed his ships’ presence otherwise. “Now we will see,” he said as he turned and shared a glance with Rivers.

  For more than an hour, nothing happened. No communications came through from Gar’am, nor was there any change in the Farmalian’s activity throughout the system. Then, in a matter of seconds, Argyll’s sensors reported hundreds of anomalies. Energy signatures were coming in from all over the system as asteroid mining stations, orbital processing facilities, mining ships and transport freighters all self-destructed. Though he had thought it was likely to happen, this time Lightfoot couldn’t stop his mouth from hanging open. There were more than a hundred contacts still moving around within the system, but the vast majority of the activity that had astounded him hours ago had disappeared. The ships that remained all seemed to be heading towards the Farmalian homeworld. Lightfoot guessed they were carrying the crews from the other ships and stations that had been destroyed. They’ve wiped out their entire industrial base, Lightfoot thought as he shook his head. He had no idea how the Karacknids would respond. Whether they would attribute the destruction to his fleet or not. Either way, he wouldn’t want to be the one to tell them what had happened. Though he had only known of the Farmalians for a few short hours, his respect for them was growing fast. It took a certain amount of courage to be willing to face the consequences of what he had just witnessed.

  “We’re getting a COM message from Captain Gar’am,” a COM officer reported. “He says the Farmalian are willing to share their technologies with us. It seems they have some pretty advanced mining techniques. Gar’am is working out the details and will then be on his way.”

  “Send back an acknowledgement. Then message the rest of our fleet. We’ll rendezvous at the next shift passage,” Lightfoot ordered. He looked around to Rivers and spoke more quietly. “I’ll retire to my office. I imagine Gar’am will have a detailed report coming through for me. I’ll return before we make the jump out of here.” With a nod, he stood and stretched then moved out of the bridge. Once in his quarters he called for Fox, his steward, to bring him some refreshments, then he looked through the more detailed estimates of the system’s mineral output his analysts had carried out.

  Barely half an hour later an alert from his COM unit made Lightfoot jump to his feet. Before anyone could contact him directly, he was out of his office and stepping across the corridor onto the bridge. “What is it?” he demanded as he moved to his command chair.

  “New contacts,” Rivers reported at once. “Karacknid ships, they jumped into the system out of the shift passage we are headed towards.”

  As soon as he was in his command chair, Lightfoot glanced up at the main holo projector. Fifty ships were accelerating into the system. As he watched their acceleration rates fell. “They know something is amiss,” he concluded. He glanced around the system, searching out his own ships. About half had already joined up with Argyll. The rest were still spread out across the former sites of the Farmalians’ mining operations. At least, the
Karacknids will believe the Farmalians when they say we were the ones who attacked their operations, Lightfoot thought as his mind whirled. With his ships spread out, there was no way he could combine them before the Karacknid ships in front of him ceased their deceleration. He had no doubt they would. As soon as the commander knew he was facing an enemy fleet, he would use his superior speed to close with the spread out Human, Vestarian and Varanni warships. In his mind, Lightfoot played out several scenarios as he sought the best orders to send to his ships. He needed to limit the losses they were about to suffer and confront the Karacknid fleet with the bulk of his fleet as quickly as possible.

  “They’re still decelerating,” Rivers commented a couple of minutes later, drawing Lightfoot out of his thoughts. “Their rates seem a little strange. They are not slowing down as fast as they could. Are they still trying to figure out who they are against? It’s rare for a Karacknid commander to be so indecisive.”

  “Pull up the gravimetric emissions from those ships from the moment we detected them,” Lightfoot said as he turned to his tactical officer. “I want a detailed analysis. Get me your best estimate on the size and power of those ships’ engines.”

  Five minutes later Lightfoot’s hunch proved correct. “The computer is suggesting nearly half of those ships are either dreadnoughts or bulk freighters,” the tactical officer reported.

  Lightfoot nodded and looked over to Rivers. If there were twenty dreadnoughts in the Karacknid fleet it wouldn’t be acting so tentatively. “It’s a supply convoy. Perhaps they’re here to pick up some minerals. They’ll keep running until they get somewhere safe. We have nothing to worry about for now.” Lightfoot didn’t add the rest of what he was thinking. Some of the escorts from the convoy would certainly be detached and sent speeding through the nearby Karacknid systems. The word would be out about his fleet’s position. Mentally, Lightfoot calculated where his ships would have been if he hadn’t decided to destroy the Farmalians’ mining infrastructure. He had to bite back a curse when he figured his ships would have reached the entrance to the shift passage at about the time the Karacknid supply convoy would have jumped out. Both fleets would have been surprised by the presence of the other, but with his gunners on a hair-trigger, he would have fancied his fleet’s chances of completely wiping out the convoy. No word of his ships’ presence would have leaked. Lightfoot wondered if the cost of destroying the Farmalians’ stations and ships was worth it. He feared he might come to rue his decision. Whatever Karacknid forces were in the immediate vicinity of his fleet would now be homing in on him. Our task has just got a whole lot harder, he thought. Rivers and the others would know that just as well, but he, like them, had no desire to voice it out loud.

  Chapter 3

  The Karacknid War taught us many things as a species. One thing we didn’t have to learn was the folly of idealizing our leaders, our own history had taught that too many times before.

  -Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD.

  IS Argyll, 30th June 2482 AD (12 days later).

  Lightfoot spent the next twelve days living on a knife edge. They saw no further sign of the Karacknid convoy, at least, no sign of its freighters. The warships from its escort were another matter. Though they kept well out of weapons range, in each of the three systems they passed through, the Karacknids had been there, waiting, watching, and then shadowing his fleet as they continued their journey home. More than once he had second-guessed himself. His ships were charging straight into the unknown under constant pressure from the Karacknids. With no way of shaking the warships shadowing him, there was no way for Lightfoot to avoid whatever was before him. The Karacknids could be amassing a massive fleet and he wouldn’t find out about it until his forces were surrounded. What else can we do? he asked himself as he shook his head. He couldn’t turn back now, while there might be a fleet ahead of him, he knew there was one behind. Even if Scott’s diversion had worked, the Karacknid fleet from Jaranna was bound to be racing after him.

  “Is something wrong Admiral?” Houston asked, obviously having noticed her Admiral’s movement.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Lightfoot said as he forced himself to concentrate on their immediate circumstances. “I’m just mulling over a few things.”

  “Aye Admiral,” his Chief of Staff replied.

  With a nod to his subordinate, Lightfoot turned to the holo projector. The only inhabited world within the system dominated the view. It was a luscious looking green and yellow world. The second one Argyll had come across in the last week. Though the world looked like it could support a large population, scans suggested there were no more than a few million sentients on the surface. Most were spread across its three continents in small towns and villages. Like the previous world they had come across it seemed clear it was an agricultural world. The Karacknids had conquered it, then turned the native species over to producing crops. A pattern was developing in Lightfoot’s mind. It seemed the Karacknids had a standard modus operandi. Either from fear of a revolt, or simply because they wanted to maximize the output of the species they had conquered, it looked like they forced each species they conquered to specialize in one form of economic activity. That way if they did revolt, they would pose little to no threat.

  “How much do you want to bet that the food stuff grown on that world is shipped to the Farmalian system?” Lightfoot asked his staff officers. “If the Farmalians revolt, their food supply would be cut off and they’d starve.”

  “That’s not a bet I’d go against,” Houston replied as she nodded towards the world on the holo projector. “I’m betting that if whoever lives down there decided to revolt, the Karacknids wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

  “No,” Rivers agreed. “Even if they were once a space faring civilization, they are no longer. Unless they’ve developed spades that can take out dreadnoughts, the Karacknids would just wipe them out.”

  “It does look like they produce quite a lot of food,” Houston commented as she zoomed in the holo image. “It looks like almost every square mile possible of the planet’s land mass has been turned over to agriculture. How many other industrial systems like the Farmalian’s do you think a world like that could feed?”

  Lightfoot shrugged. He knew almost nothing about farming and had no idea. “Whatever it is, that’s not my immediate concern,” he responded. From the look on Houston’s face, Lightfoot guessed she was a little disappointed in his reply. He knew what she had been getting at. If they attacked the planet and destroyed the storage stations in orbit they could hamper the Karacknids’ operations in this system and probably several others. But he wasn’t prepared to starve out species like the Farmalians who had been conquered by the Karacknids. If the Karacknids did pursue a policy of reducing the technological level of those they annexed, the natives of the surrounding worlds would essentially be slaves. He wasn’t going to cause famine on their worlds just because they were working for the Karacknids, not when they had a gun to their heads. Ideally, he would like to contact the natives of the worlds he came across. If they were willing to risk themselves like the Farmalians, that was another matter. But with the Karacknid warships following their every move he couldn’t risk bringing the Karacknids’ wrath down on the natives.

  “If we ever come back this way again, we are going to have some serious problems,” Rivers mused. He elaborated when Lightfoot turned to him. “Think about it. If we can survive this war long enough to push the Karacknids back, these are the kind of worlds we will be liberating. If we freed the Farmalians but couldn’t capture this world, we’d suddenly find ourselves responsible for feeding the Farmalian people. Imagine trying to ship all the food they would need to them when their world might be on the frontline of the war? We’d be having enough problems shipping supplies for our own fleets all the way out here. Never mind having to care for the natives. Even if we took this world, we’d have to find a way to ship their food back to Farmalian. It would be a logistical nightmare.”

  Lig
htfoot found himself shaking his head again. Conservative estimates put the number of worlds controlled by the Karacknids into the several thousand. If even a tenth of them were like the worlds he had seen so far, liberating them would probably cause millions if not billions of deaths. The Karacknids had made their economies so fragile that if the Karacknids left, many could collapse back into a technological dark age. “I see what you’re saying,” he replied. “I fear you are right. But I have no answers. That’s a problem for someone who has a higher IQ than either of us. We have enough problems of our own as it is.” His gaze turned to the eight Karacknid warships that were trailing his fleet and the one charging ahead. The lone Karacknid frigate was already on its way, bringing news of his fleet’s progress to the next system. The rest were keeping close tabs on his fleet. They never got close enough to engage, but they were making sure none of his ships tried to slip away. Desperately, Lightfoot wanted to rid himself of the Karacknid warships. They felt like vultures circling their prey, just waiting for a chance to strike. Several times he had contemplated altering course. In one of the shift passages he could exit shift space early and double back on himself, or even try and ambush the small group of Karacknid ships. But he knew their commander had to be alert to such tactics. Whoever was commanding the Karacknid ships knew their trade well. They weren’t taking any risks, and yet still managed to be a constant thorn in his side. They were there to observe his fleet, it was unlikely they would take any unnecessary risks.