Life hadn't changed all that much since the Cacas had been ejected from the system. Most of the Cacas had left, but some had been left behind due to the lack of space lift, and the former slaves had attacked them at every opportunity. Since the Cacas were armed, and the natives weren't, that had resulted in a slaughter. Still, numbers had counted for something, and many of the Cacas had been pulled down and killed. The Nation had come in and rounded up all the surviving Cacas they could, hoping to gain intelligence from them. And warriors had been patrolling the streets of the larger cities since landing, making sure that the Pleisians didn't rise up in an unthinking rage that only caused them harm.
“So far, quiet,” said the officer to his controller, a warrant sitting in a comfortable room in a building near the spaceport. “There is a lot of tension. The people are worried that their masters are coming back, and that we will evacuate and leave them to their fate.”
The captain couldn't really blame them. A shuttle rose from the spaceport, kilometers away, taking Nation personnel to the ships that would remove them from the system. Supposedly just to be safe, but it was never a good sign when the technicians were evacuated before an action. Warriors were valuable, but warriors grew into their roles instinctively, while techs took years of training.
“Be careful out there, sir,” said the warrant.
The warrior huffed out a breath, then smiled. There was no indication that his people would be evacuated, since they could cause problems for the Cacas that returned. Killing them in ambushes. Destroying their installations. That wouldn't help the Plesians, of course. They would again be caught between the major powers, helpless to do anything but hide and hope they didn't die.
* * *
Vice Admiral Isola Klavaras stared at the plot on her flag bridge, her eyes adjusting to the liquid that filled the chamber. Alphas were made to take advantage of the fact that riding in a liquid medium allowed living creatures to handle thirty or more additional gravities. All of the Alphas and Engineers aboard the ship were able to survive and work in the oxygen enriched liquid. Warriors and others were forced to wear breathing masks, but everyone aboard the ships could handle the extra gee load.
Klavaras took a deep breath of the liquid, feeling the pressure of the fluid pulled into her lungs so she could continue to feed her body. The gills on her neck flared at the same time, taking in even more oxygen. There would be some discomfort when the liquid was evacuated from the chamber and she had to cough up the fluid to start breathing air again. All part of the job.
The plot was showing the battle that was about to develop. Her cruiser and destroyer screen had brushed aside the scouts of the Cacas and were now dueling with the cruisers of the enemy. None of her light ships had wormholes, but a good number of them had the aliens brought in by the Empire. She looked over at one of the Klassekian com techs on her bridge. That being was wearing a tight-fitting breathing mask, and looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Are we picking up any of the larger Caca ships?” she asked her sensor officer, who was on a com to the sensor chief. That being was sitting in a special isolated chamber, listening to the resonances thrumming through the dimensions of hyper. While not as accurate as the main sensors that would show where the enemy was, the ears and brain of a skilled operator could still garner information beyond the range of the standard sensors. Maybe not as useful as the information developed by the main sensors, any data in place of the lack of such was of use.
“The chief says that there echoes from beyond standard sensor range that he believes are capital ships. A lot of capital ships.”
“Is he sure?” asked the admiral, again dealing with a shiver of fear that she must suppress, in order to spread calm among the bridge crew that she didn't feel herself.
“Of course not, ma'am,” said the sensor officer, a slight grin stretching a face that looked on the verge of panic.
The admiral stared at the officer for a moment, wishing he could give her more. When more was not forthcoming she looked back at the plot. If there really were capital ships out there, a lot of them, they should be appearing on the plot at any moment. What she did about it before they appeared could be the difference between living and dying out here in deep space.
“Shit,” gasped one of the bridge officers as a couple of points appeared on the plot, mass and acceleration figures below them.
The admiral felt like cursing herself, but such would show how shocked she was. Part of her job was to display calm in front of her people, But watching the couple turn into a dozen, then two dozen, and on, until over two hundred of the massive battleships were on the plot, moving her way, was enough to break through any facade of calm.
“All ships. Come to ninety degrees to port. Emergency boost. Everyone, prepare to fire a spread of missiles at the enemy.”
The admiral was hoping they might be able to open up the distance from the enemy while hitting them with missiles. As soon as the thousands of enemy missiles appeared on the plot she knew that her hopes were dashed.
“Emergency decel. All ships prepare to drop out of hyper as soon as able.”
If they could get into normal space and hide, they might just make it through this. And maybe strike the Cacas from behind, hitting their supply train. But first they needed to survive, as unlikely as that seemed.
* * *
“We are rolling them up all along the front, Great Admiral,” reported the chief of staff with a predatory growl. “We will be hitting the first systems within fourteen hours.”
Mrastaran gave a head motion of acknowledgment, wondering how close to reality the plot was. With so many ships spread across fifty thousand square light years of space, this was merely an approximation of what was reality. Ships could be light years out of place, or already engaged in battles he had no idea were occurring.
“Order the forces to start congregating according to the plan,” ordered the great admiral. The chief of staff gave an acknowledgment and turned to talk to the com officer and techs. The orders would go out, and soon the ships in the small battlegroups would form into the three large attack forces, while the scouts and cruisers continued their broad sweep into the space of the enemy. As soon as more enemy battlegroups moved up, hopefully in a spread intended to protect most of the worlds they had taken from the Ca'cadasan Empire, it would be time for his move. And he would hit them with his large forces, defeat them in detail, and leave them with too little to consolidate into anything that could challenge his battle fleet. As long as they saw what they were expecting to see, a Ca'cadasan forces rushing in to take as many systems as possible, leaving themselves vulnerable. He couldn't care less about those systems in the short run. His target was their fleet; what they had out here, and what they would bring up to counterattack with the intent of taking out his scattered, assumed, force.
Everything was looking good. Of course, the great admiral was wise enough to know that nothing was guaranteed. But with some luck he would achieve a great victory here. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if getting the attention of this young Emperor was something to be desired, even with a positive result.
Chapter Three
There are no desperate situations, there are only desperate people. Heinz Guderian
“And I expect you to give up half of your wormholes, Grand Fleet Admiral Bednarczyk.,” said the Alpha whose holo image sat in the conference room chair, a slight smile on his face.
“Half my wormholes?” exclaimed Beata, her face flushing with rage. “Those wormholes were given to my force by my Empire. They go with the ships they deployed with.”
Unfortunately, the only wormholes she had were the ones that were aboard the ships that were already on this front. Wormholes from the Empire had to come through hyperspace, using VII class ships that moved the seventh month trip from one nation to the other. They had to swing wide of the Ca'cadasan Empire, adding an additional month to the voyage. Another eighty were on the way, but still had a month of travel time. The Nation of New
Earth was now making their own, a couple a weeks with large generating facilities that were much like the supermetal plants in the Empire, or what it was assumed the Cacas used.
“Well, they can stay with your ships,” said Admiral Klanarat, his smile widening as he pulled his rank and position over her. “But then those ships will have to be deployed to my own battle-groups in support.”
This is not what I was expecting, thought Beata, grimacing. She had expected that she would have a command on this front that was hers to do with as she pleased, more or less. With the ships assigned to her by her Emperor, hers to command in the name of her Empire. Sure, the other admiral would assign her missions, but they would be under her direct control. What she hadn't expected was being placed under this insufferable Alpha admiral who seemed determined to tie her hands.
“And what about when the new wormholes arrive?” she asked, sure that the answer would be one she didn't like. “Will I get to make up my losses from those?”
“We'll see,” said the smirking Alpha. “Remember, Admiral. This is our nation, our front. You and your people are merely guests here.”
Guests who are here to shed our blood to defend you, thought Beata, holding her anger in check before her mouth got her in trouble. She was sure that she had enough credit with Sean to call in some favors, but how many? The Emperor hadn't sent her here to cause a diplomatic incident. But dammit, if this asshole was going to demand everything she had, why was she even out here. Any officer could sit behind the lines and watch her ships taken.
She was about to mention her fleet carriers, a dozen ten million-ton vessels that carried a hundred and eight warp fighters each. But the other admiral hadn't mentioned them, so she decided that it might be best to not remind him.
“I expect those ships, or the wormholes without them, by the end of the week, in place and ready for the offensive.”
That was something else Beata had a problem with. The Klavarta wanted to launch an offensive into Caca space within two weeks. She would barely be able to get her force to the front in time for the kickoff, which meant she wouldn't be a major participant in the first phase. In her opinion, the Klavarta high command was foolish in pushing the jump off date so far ahead. But again, it wasn't up to her. She had given her opinion, it had been rejected, and there was nothing else to say about it.
“Did you hear me, Admiral?” roared the Alpha, his voice rising to a high pitch in his anger.
“I heard you.” And that was all she was going to give him. She expected Klanarat to order her to acknowledge his command, but instead he looked off the holo, his brow furrowing. He was speaking to someone, his lips moving, but the sound was off, and Beata was not very good at reading mouth motions, especially on the unfamiliar faces of the genetically altered Klavarta.
“We have a situation, Admiral,” said Klanarat, his eyes narrowed.
That was a term that Beata hated, since it never had a good meaning. Like, we have a situation, more reinforcements have come through.
“The Cacas have launched an offensive all along our front with their Empire,” said Klanarat, frowning, then grimacing. “Along a wide front. We don't know what's coming at us, yet. But we can assume it's going to be everything they have out here.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Beata, linking in with all of her battle-group commanders through her implant, running it through the ships com system.
“Start moving your fleet toward the front,” said the other admiral, his voice calming, taking on a commanding tone. “Aim everything you have toward this system here. Pleisia. It should take you thirteen days at your best speed. By then we'll know what we're facing, and how to use your ships.”
“And where will you be?” asked Beata, hoping she wouldn't have to host the Alpha on any of her ships.
“I'm taking the gate to the front with my flagship,” said the other admiral, brow furrowed with concern. “I want to be up there so I can exercise command and control. I will be in touch.”
The Klavarta admiral disappeared, seeming to teleport from his seat at the conference room table.
“Get me all of my group commanders,” ordered Beata into the air. “In my conference room. Fifteen minutes.”
The Klavarta admiral might be satisfied to send his force into the unknown half-cocked. She preferred to have as much information as possible, and as much planning as she could do with that data.
* * *
“What do you plan to do?” asked the president of the Nation of New Earth of his supreme naval commander. The chief executive sounded anxious, though his trained face wouldn't betray those feelings, except to someone who knew him well. Like the admiral, his second cousin.
“I have ordered our forces at the frontier to fall back before the Cacas,” replied Admiral Klanarat, feeling confident that he would soon have the situation in hand. After all, the Cacas weren't known for their strategic brilliance. “I will move up with my main force, with the Imperials in support, and defeat the Caca force in detail.”
“You won't give the Imperial admiral a major role in your counter-offensive?” asked the president, brow furrowing.
“I think not. I don't think it's a good idea endangering her or her ships.” And no use sharing the glory with her, when we can get the job done ourselves. That was the real reason for keeping her in the wings. The Imperials had a swaggering arrogance due to the way they had come back from near defeat on their front to a position of closing victory. Maybe that swagger was deserved, but it still grated on the Klavarta.
Still, the admiral had reason to feel confident. His people, with much smaller ships and swarming tactics, without the tech advantages and allies they now possessed, had fought the Cacas to a standstill for twenty-five years. True, they had lost a little bit of ground each of those years, but had been able to rally enough to gain some back and keep the big aliens off balance. And when it had come to small fleet actions, and ground combat, the Klavarta had been able to use their genetically engineered traits to their best advantages. They had been winning fight after fight after the humans from the Empire had made contact and brought war winning weapons into the mix. So, yes, he thought his fleet would easily take on and destroy the Cacas.
The enemy was not the most intelligent of species. How they had gained ascendancy in their region of space in the first place was a mystery to the people of the Nation. The intelligence from the New Terran Empire was that they had been the only ones with space tech in their region of the Perseus arm when they had started on the path of Empire. That seemed to make sense. Now that they were facing intelligent, powerful enemies things had changed for them. The fact that the enemy did very little to change their tactics from offensive to offensive helped. As someone on old Earth had once said, they came at us in the same old way, which made it easy to take them out in detail.
“Plus, the Imperials can't keep up with our maneuvers,” said the admiral with a smile. That was true. Klavarta ships, though larger than they had been, still carried a greater weight of grabber units and the inertial compensators that came with them. Add to that the thirty additional gravities that the Alphas and Engineers could handle in the liquid environment, and they could pull sixty more gravities than the ships of any other power in the war.
That meant they would outrun the Imperial ships assigned to their formations. Since the main reason for existence of those ships, especially those equipped with wormholes, was fire support, and they could provide that from light minutes behind, there was no reason for them to lead the charge.
“I still wish you would keep them in the loop,” said the president, waving a finger in the air. “The Cacas wouldn't be coming over the frontier unless they thought they had enough of a force to win.”
Admiral Klanarat huffed and shook his head. “The big beasts are too stupid to come up with a winning strategy. I guarantee I will have them with their nonexistent tails between their big bowed legs within a week of engagement with our main fleet.”
&nbs
p; “Keep the Imperial commander in the loop, Admiral,” ordered the president, still waving that finger. “I know you think you don't need her, and maybe you don't. But do it for me and my old heart. I will sleep so much better knowing that you have powerful backup.”
The admiral thought about refusing, especially since the president had framed it as a request. But he knew that if he refused that request, it would come back as an order, and he would find his hands tied. Agreeing to the request gave him some wiggle room.
“Very well. Now, Mr. President. I need to see to my dispositions.”
The president nodded and signed off. Being the chief executive, it was the Alpha's prerogative to end the communication, not his subordinate, but the president was intelligent enough to give his people room to breathe.
Klanarat looked over what he had available at the front, and what he would be bringing from the core worlds of the nation. There were over two thousand of the ten million-ton battleships at the front, and he would be bringing six thousand more. Twenty-five thousand smaller vessels, cruisers and destroyers, what had been needed to screen the front and patrol the space out there so that Caca ships wouldn't sneak through. It had seemed like enough when the Cacas had been on the defensive after the last Klavarta offensive. The Klavarta fleet had been mauled, with over half the remaining ships in need of major repairs, not available until now. He would be bringing fifty thousand light ships, fifteen thousand cruisers and thirty-five thousand destroyers.
There were also the light carriers, over two hundred of them carrying ten thousand fighters, standard space and warp. The admiral really wasn't sure what to do with them. They had been built to copy the Imperials, but Klanarat didn't think they were of much use, since he liked to fight his battles in hyper, where the fighters couldn't operate. The same went for the Imperial fleet carriers, which was the reason he was willing to leave with them with the human admiral.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 15: All Quiet on the Second Front? Page 5