Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front?

by Doug Dandridge

“I hope my Emperor hasn’t given you a false impression of my abilities, Mr. President.”

  The president laughed again. “You are actually a better politician than he led me to expect. No worries. I was a fleet commander before I was voted into the position of president. I couldn’t stand the people put over me either. Of course, those people were right bastards, unlike your ruler. So feel at ease to speak your mind with me. And I’ll promise not to throw you into my deepest dungeon.”

  Beata found herself laughing. She liked this being. Or should I think of him as a man, she thought. She thought she could work with him. Now, if only his own fleet commanders were so agreeable.

  “We have a reception for you and your senior officers in the Presidential Palace tonight, Admiral,” continued the president. “It will give you a chance to meet the senior members of my government, as well as some of my ranking fleet officers.”

  Great, just what I didn’t want, thought Beata, forcing herself to smile, realizing that this being would be able to read her and other Imperial humans as well as any member of the Empire. The admiral did not like formal diplomatic events. She felt like she was out of her element, liable to say something stupid that would harm her standing with the important civilians. The military people wouldn’t be that much of a problem, she hoped.

  “What time?” she asked, keeping the smile in place.

  “Eight PM capital city time zone,” said the president, a more natural smile on his face. “Six hours from now. That should give you enough time to see to your fleet and get everyone situated.” The president let out a deep laugh. “Don’t worry, Admiral. I don’t really have a dungeon. As much as I demanded one, the council wouldn’t let me have it.”

  Beata found herself laughing despite her trepidation at having to attend a diplomatic function. She was beginning to really like this Alpha Klavarta who was the counterpart of her Emperor. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, only half lying.

  “First Division, First Battleship Squadron coming through the wormhole ma’am,” called out one of the com officers.

  The president must have realized that she had more important things to do at the moment than stroke his ego, and terminated his end of the conversation.

  The admiral pulled up a holo that showed the view of the wormhole, in time to see a standard hyper VII battleship come through. The Emperor had given her a powerful force. Nowhere near the strength of what Lenkowski or Mgonda commanded on the main front. A little more powerful than what she had had under her command in the Bolthole Sector. Of course she would also have the Imperial ships already on this front, more than she was bringing. And the Klavarta ships and those of their allies in support. They wouldn’t be under her command, and would only do as she asked if she was diplomatic with her request. Supposedly she was under the command of their senior admiral, but her orders from the Emperor gave her great latitude in how she interpreted the orders of that being.

  Half of her already resident command was in the system, along with three of the four senior commanders. Enough for her figure out what kind of people she had working for her out here at the very least. She would have to figure out the others in time.

  “We will have a holo conference as soon as all my major commanders are in the system,” she told Commander Xang. “In one hour.”

  * * *

  “Welcome to the Klavarta Front, Great Admiral,” said the male on the holo, wearing the uniform and rank insignia of a senior staff officer.

  Great Admiral Mrastaran Hlrata suppressed the nausea he felt from coming through the wormhole, grabbing onto the arm of his command chair aboard the battleship Claw of Dragar, named for one of the most terrifying beasts of Ca’cadasan legend. Ca’cadasans didn’t respond well to wormhole transit, just as they didn’t to hyper translations. It was a weakness in the species that had caused them innumerable problems in the past, when they had translated into the middle of a battle. As far as they knew, most species had problems with both forms of travel, but the Ca’cadasans were the outliers who suffered the most.

  “And who are you?” croaked the Great Admiral, not liking the idea of showing weakness in front of an unknown officer.

  He kept fighting back the nausea. It would be worth it to take command on this front. It removed him from direct supervision by the young shit of an Emperor and his functionaries. If only the father were still alive things might have been different. That Emperor had actually listened to his officers, and thought about problems before acting. This one only reacted, mostly with rage, and the military was in disarray because of that.

  “I am Admiral Trostara,” said the other Ca’cadasan, bowing his head. “At your pleasure, I will be your chief of staff.”

  “We will see.” If this officer was competent he would remain in his position. If not, he would be sent through the wormhole back to the capital. “And where is Great Admiral Tonnasar?”

  The other great admiral had been the front commander, but would now be under the command of Mrastaran. That admiral might not be amenable to that change in his status, even if it were ordered by the Emperor. There might be a challenge, a fight, and one of them would be dead. If Tonnasar won, he would probably be executed on orders of the Supreme Admiral. That wouldn’t matter to the other admiral if he was enraged.

  “Great Admiral Tonnasar is with one of the task groups at the front,” said the Chief of Staff, bowing his head again.

  Mrastaran felt mixed feelings of relief and rage. How dare that other male not be here to greet his new commander. But his not being here meant there would be no challenge this day.

  Of course the other admiral would not be his intellectual equal. Very few Ca'cadasans were. His intellect had kept him alive through the struggle to move up the ranks. Avoiding fights when possible, choosing the correct weapons and setting when not. If not for his family background and status he would have become a scientist or a scholar. Unfortunately, being so close to the line of ascension, but not close enough to be important enough to live, had set his fate. The military, the fleet. Still, he had been able to indulge in his love of scholarship, and had become one of the most thoughtful commanders in the Ca'cadasan Empire. Not that his thoughtfulness had prevented the disasters brought on by superiors.

  “The rest of my reinforcing fleet will be coming through behind me,” said the great admiral, forcing his wandering mind back to the here and now. “Make sure that they are given placement around the planet.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “And I would meet with my senior commanders. Do you have an adequate space on the planet?”

  “We do, my Lord. Accommodations I am sure you will find satisfactory.”

  The great admiral gave a head motion of acceptance. He would enjoy spending some days with a world underfoot. But his primary quarters would remain on this ship, where he could attend to business.

  “I would have a feast this evening,” announced the great admiral, who was not above living the good life. “What delicacies do you have?”

  “The native intelligences are not only hard-working slaves,” said the grinning chief of staff. “They are delicious as well when prepared by our chefs.”

  “Then we shall sample them,” said the great admiral, hoping that his stomach would settle by the time he reached the surface. He still didn’t like the idea of eating sentient beings, but it was tradition, and he wasn’t about to try and change the habits of his people at this juncture.

  Fifteen thousand warships would be coming through the wormhole. One every half minute for the next five days. He would wait until all of the ships had come through, gathering the vessels that were already here, and then plan his campaign. But first he would sample the local fare, which was sure to consist of more than cooked sentient.

  * * *

  Beata sat strapped into the seat of the shuttle as it worked its way through the stratosphere at high Mach. The admiral loved space travel. She was an easy translator, wormhole and hyperdrive, though the time distortion
of the wormhole variety still bothered her. What she didn’t like was riding shuttles into atmosphere. The turbulence made her feel like a disaster was imminent, even though with modern inertial compensators crashes were all but unheard of. Since it was part of her job, something she had to do at times, she gritted her teeth and di it, though she preferred to use her position to avoid shuttle travel.

  “It will be okay, ma’am,” said Admiral Mara Montgomery, sitting in the seat next to hers. The other admiral patted Bednarczyk’s hand, a calm expression on her face.

  “You know, Mara. I can hate you sometimes.”

  Montgomery was the most fearless person she had ever known. Beata was no coward herself. One couldn’t stand on the command deck of a ship in the middle of a battle, giving out the orders that would mean life or death to so many others, yourself included, and not be courageous. But the slight bucking of a shuttle with inertial compensators pushing through the air of a planet was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

  “We’re leveling out, Admiral,” came the voice of the pilot over the cabin intercom. “We’ll be touching down at the palace in seven minutes.”

  “Thank God,” said Beata, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath.

  “The Goddess protects those who call upon her,” said Montgomery with a smile.

  Beata frowned for a moment. She had been raised a Lutheran, still one of the major Christian denominations in the Empire, if not the most popular. The admiral had not been practicing for years, and wasn’t sure how much she believed. Still, the comfort of occasional prayers had aided her in the past. She knew that her subordinate was a practicing Pagan. She didn’t know how far Mara’s belief went. Hell, she could be a practicing witch from all she knew, and she wouldn’t care as long as the scout force commander kept giving her results.

  The grand fleet admiral let herself relax now that they were essentially in an aircraft, and not an orbit to surface craft. That anxiety under control, now she could concentrate on her rising nervousness about the coming social and political meetup she was heading to. In order to calm herself she went over her order of battle in her mind.

  Bednarczyk had brought along her one superheavy battleship as her flag, as well as fifteen squadrons of battleships, sixty of the sixteen million-ton warships. Along with that were fourteen squadrons of battle cruisers and three hundred and fifty cruisers and destroyers. Twelve fleet carriers accompanied the force, with over twelve hundred of the newest warp fighters. Added to that were assault ships, missiles colliers, antimatter tankers and many fast freighters. It was a mighty force, but not enough on its own to handle what the Cacas were likely to throw at this region.

  She would have the one hundred battleships already in the region, along with five carriers and over three hundred smaller vessels. That didn’t include the tens of thousands of Klavarta ships that wouldn’t be under her direct command.

  “We’re setting down, ma’am,” called out the pilot.

  Since the shuttle used grabbers, the whine of engines was missing as the ship hovered, then lowered itself to the hard surface of the landing pad. It set down with a slight thump. There was none of the tilting that might have occurred if it had set down on uneven ground and the hydraulics adjusted. The pad was perfectly even, and the space set aside for the shuttle was triple what was needed.

  “Well, let’s meet our hosts,” said Beata, trying to keep her tone calm as she got ready to face the people she would be working for. No, not working for, she thought, shaking her head. That will always be Sean.

  The local star was on the horizon to the west and the pad was lit with a hundred strong spotlights. There were other shuttles nearby, a pair of Imperial craft, along with a half dozen of what had to be local make. Imperial shuttles looked like what they were, craft intended to drop troops from space onto the surface of a planet. The locals looked more like luxury aircraft, with the fine lines and swept wings of cruising craft.

  There were soldiers standing around the edges of the field, both Klavarta and Imperials. The Imperials were in battle armor, and looked no different than any other soldiers or Marines the admiral had seen in a long career. The Klavarta looked? Well, awesome was one term that came to mind. Frightening was another. Two and a half meters tall, with jutting jaws full of teeth and clawed hands, their exposed skin, what wasn’t covered by their strap on armor, looked to be some kind of bony plate. They had been genetically engineered to be warriors, strong, fast and deadly. They were powerful enough without modern weapons and armor, though a Marine in battle armor would be more than a match for any number of them so equipped. With particle beams and armor they could stand their own against any enemy.

  A smaller form, shorter and squatter than Alphas, were busy servicing the shuttles. Those had to be the Engineers, the form created to take care of the workings of ships. From what Beata understood, the forms were now free to choose their own life paths. However, forms engineered for one kind of job were better than the competition they would face from the other forms, and the groups still seemed to segregate themselves based on their form.

  “Admiral Bednarczyk,” said an approaching being, an Alpha in a black uniform. Unfamiliar rank insignia were on the male’s shoulders, though from the weight of those boards he must have been some kind of senior officer.

  “I’m Grand Fleet Admiral Bednarczyk,” replied Beata, returning the salute that the being rendered by slamming his right fist into left shoulder with the traditional Imperial version, right hand to brow. “And this is Admiral Montgomery, my scout force commander.”

  “I am Captain Lokar Thrandos,” said the Alpha. “If it please the Admiral, I will be your liaison with the Nation of New Earth fleet.”

  “I’m sure you will do fine, Captain. And have you come to lead us to the reception?”

  The Alpha smiled and gestured toward the palace standing on the edge of the field, then turned and led the way.

  The palace was the most utilitarian building designated as such that Beata had ever seen. Climbing twenty stories into the air, it was a block, glassed sides reflecting the setting sun. No towers, turrets, ornamentation of any kind. The entrance was large, glass doors slid open to the side, a pair of Warriors standing watch.

  It made sense that these people would construct a utilitarian style building in the middle of war. They needed something that did the job, without taking away too many of the resources needed for war. It was more important to construct quarters for workers and the factories they needed to produce what the nation needed. Still, the capital building had to be large enough for its functions, and luxurious enough for the people looking up at it to take heart at the strength of their nation. Even if that was just a front.

  “We will be meeting in the formal gardens,” said Thrandos, pointing toward a path leading to the side and around the building.

  “Does the President live here?”

  “For now,” answered the officer. “A new, more substantial residence is being constructed several kilometers from here. The president really didn’t want it, but the Council insisted on something befitting the dignity of the office.”

  The sound of voices came to the trio as they walked around the side of the building. The tones of music, some laughter. The scene before them was more like a garden party than a formal meeting of military commanders with the civil authority of the nation. People in uniform and formal clothing much like the Imperial style on Jewel. Drinks in hand, crystal goblets, while liveried servants prowled the gardens with trays of delicacies.

  “Admiral,” called out a familiar voice, one she had heard through the wormhole com. “Admiral Bednarczyk. Welcome to New Terra.”

  “Wasn’t that the name of the world we destroyed with the wormhole weapon,” whispered Mara.

  That indeed was the name of the world the Empire had destroyed, along with the Ca’cadasan conquest fleet in close proximity. The Ca’cadasans had already killed most of the people on the planet, those that hadn’t already escaped. So a
ship with a wormhole aboard had come through the wormhole gate that had been established in orbit. The tremendous explosion had scoured the surface of the world, and destroyed most of the Caca fleet in the process.

  “We liked the name,” said Manstara Klanarat, the President. “So we decided to recycle it.” The president turned to the tall, muscular human woman who had approached with him. “And may I introduce my Vice President, Thallia Thrann.”

  Beata was starting to wonder if she were the shortest woman on the planet as she looked up into the face of Thrann. The full human native, with fine features and long brunette hair, was attractive enough, a friendly smile on her face.

  “I will be your contact with our government, Admiral,” said the second in command of the Nation, holding out a strong hand. “In case you run into any problems with our military people.”

  Bednarczyk took the hand and felt a strong grip, but not the application of enough power to hurt. She could tell immediately that she would like this woman, but promised herself that she would bring her in to intervene in the local chain of command as little as possible. It was best to not ruffle the feathers of the people she had to work with.

  Beata looked out over the garden, a large open space with many trees and flowering shrubs, fountains splashing into pools. Hundreds of beings walked, stood and talked among the paths. The majority of the beings were Alphas, with a large number of standard humans intermingling with them. There were several warriors, these not dressed for combat, instead wearing the ornate red uniforms of their Marines. Something else the New Earthers had adopted. A couple of Gryphons, a Phlistaran, and a few aliens she didn't recognize circulated among the crowd. Most of those were citizens of her Empire, the others she guessed the new allies of the formerly xenophobic Nation.

  “A formal dinner will be waiting for us in the dining room,” said Thallia, nodding toward the palace building. “But for now we have some time for informal dialogue.”

  Beata spent the next hour meeting and talking with a number of people, human and alien. If not for the implant that all Imperial humans carried she wouldn't have remembered half their names. As it was, she met with many of the flag rank officers she would be working with or commanding. Some were Imperial officers, while most were from the Nation of New Earth, along with a few allied commanders.