Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) (34 page)

“They have already
destroyed sixty percent of our fleet, though we believe they also suffered
heavy losses.  But the point of decision is still in doubt.”

The Great Admiral gave a
head motion of acknowledgement.  If they could take the main system of that
human kingdom they could still call that battle a victory.  And even if they
didn’t, if they could still get most of that forty percent out, it would be of
great benefit to the Empire.  Ships that had faced the humans, their battle
experience passed on to those who hadn’t faced the maddeningly innovative
creatures.  In the past they might have stood and fought, and lost every last
ship, as Ca’cadasan commanders tried to prove their courage.  Now, at least,
the commanders of ships and squadrons were at times making the smart decision.

“Will we try another
strike at their station, Supreme Lord?”

“That may be in the
works, Great Admiral.  That may be in the works, though I doubt we will be able
to sneak an attack in on them another time.”

No
, thought the Great
Admiral. 
The next time it will have to be overwhelming force.  A battle
fleet.
  It would be worth the sacrifice, even if not a ship made it back. 
The problem was getting a battle fleet that deep into their space.  If they had
fought their way that deep into the human Empire, the war was all but won.

“Keep the pressure on
them, Great Admiral,” said the Emperor.  “We have new weapons coming down the
pipeline.  Weapons such as the humans use against us.  We will meet them at
their own game, and then our more massive industrial base will begin to tell.”

The holo died, the
Emperor cutting him off without another word, as was his right.  The Great
Admiral thought for a moment of disobeying the ruler’s order.  He could lead
his fleet better than any of his subordinates.  Since he considered himself a
loyal servant of the Empire, he decided he would follow the order.

“Get me High Admiral
Changanostra,” he said into the air, knowing that the com would pick it up and
he would soon be in touch with his most talented subordinate.  Still, it might
take some moments, since the Admiral’s ship was nearing the hyper barrier, and
the nearest ship to his with a wormhole com was light minutes away.  It was
really the only ship that would have such a com in the pursuit force, and the
Admiral in charge of that vessel might see it as a slight that he was not
picked to lead the force. 
Let him see it as a slight
, thought the Great
Admiral as he waited.  Changanostra was the best male for the job, so he would
get the overall command, and the Great Admiral would order his officers to
switch ships.

New weapons
, was the thought his
mind sought while he waited.  Actually it had been
weapons such as the
humans use against us.
 
So again we copy
, he thought.  
Copy the
people who innovate such as we can’t.  And what else will they bring out in the
meantime?

*     *     *

“We have tested the
impossible fighter prototype, Supreme Lord,” said the male in charge of the
project over the com holo.  “They work, Supreme Lord.  They work, and we should
be able to produce them in quantity within the next couple of months.”

“We need to stop calling
them impossible fighters,” said the Emperor.  “Such a silly name, since we now
know that they are perfectly possible.”

“Yes, Supreme Lord,”
croaked the male, a confused expression on his face.  He had called the Emperor
to report a triumph, only to have his speech corrected.

“Do we have the negative
matter for mass production?” he asked the male.  Negative matter was not
something that the Empire had much need for, only using it for esoteric
experiments and such.  The Emperor knew the answer to the question before he
asked it, but wanted to see what the Director of Project had to say about it.

“No, Supreme Lord.  As it
stands, we might be able to produce enough to manufacture twenty fighters a
month.  We need more production if we are going to mass produce them.”

“Then we will have more
production,” said the Emperor.  “I will immediately order the allocation of
resources to build production facilities.  I want those fighters as soon as
possible.  I am tired of us being on the receiving end of their technologies.”

“Yes, Supreme Lord,” said
the male.  What else could he say?  He was not in charge of anything outside of
his project.

“Good work,” said the
Emperor, smiling.  “Now give me a working fighter and you can ask what you want
of me.”

The Emperor cut the com
feed, turning to look at the tactical plot of the battle his forces were
retreating from, wondering what they might have done if they had the same
attack fighters as the enemy.  Something capable of exceeding the speed of
light in normal space, though it had been explained to him that they were not really
in normal space.  Whatever the case, they had been a devastating weapon that
had hurt his forces badly.  True, some of his ships could pick them up, at
least at close range.  From reports he had seen some of his ships had
devastated attack wings that had swept in, obviously depending on their ability
to disappear from enemy sensors while they were in their inertialess bubbles.

And even though we
destroyed over half their deployed fighters, they still ended up on the
positive end of the exchange.  It is an exchange I would take at any time.

With that thought the
Emperor went back to work, going through all the decisions major and minor that
were his to make in war or peace.

*     *     *

“I can’t wait to hear
what his Majesty has to say when he sees this,” said Dr. Abel Schneider,
looking over the holo of the prototype floating in the air before him.

And I think his Majesty
has too much on his mind at the moment to be bothered
, thought Admiral Chuntao
Chan. 
The poor man.  But this is really something he should see and
celebrate.

The ship on the holo was
like nothing anyone in the Empire had ever seen.  Short and squat, the most
noticeable feature was the perfectly circular ring around the center, held out
by a quartet of pylons attaching it to the body of the ship. 
A true
Alcubierre drive,
she thought.  Something that had been theorized for over
two thousand years, but never built.  First subspace, then hyperspace had come
along and obviated the need for the drive.

Alcubierre drive also
used negative matter, but used a much more efficient warp field to propel
itself through space.  Or it might be more accurate to say that it didn’t
propel itself at all, while the space around it moved.  Theoretically, it was
possible for the drive to move the ship at a pseudo-speed of thousands of times
the speed of light.  Still far short of the maximum travel speed of
hyperspace.  Ships in hyper VII moved at a pseudo-speed of more than thirty
thousand times the speed of light.

It was also much easier
to track compared to the inertialess fighters they were already using.  The
graviton emissions from the warp was in the same range as a destroyer, and they
could be tracked easily all the way across a system.  They were not stealthy,
and when they lit up the drive everyone for light hours in any direction would
know that they were there.  Moments later the variations in the graviton signal
strength would give one the vector of the ships.

It had one advantage that
no other ship had.  It could go from a standing stop to ten times light speed
in less than twenty seconds. It could go from that speed to a stop in the same
time.  Even faster if it just dropped the warp field, which would cause it to
come to a complete but gentle stop in space.  The prototype was able to hit ten
point three light.  Future versions would probably go much faster, but what
they had at the moment was good enough.

The prototype massed five
thousand tons.  It used too much negative matter, enough to equip a squadron of
inertialess fighters.  The production fighter they envisioned would mass a mere
three thousand tons, about twice that of the inertialess attack fighters, and
use four and a half times the negative matter.  And they were developing an
entire line of missile weapons to go with it.  Beam weapons were more of a
problem, since they could only be used once the craft was out of warp, which
meant standing still, a state in which they were easy targets.

Still blind as a mole
, thought the Research
and Development Admiral, considered to be one of the most brilliant minds in
the Empire. 
But we can work that out in the same way as we did the
inertialess fighters. 
It would take several months to actually have a
deployable fighter, several months after that before the first squadrons were
formed.  But when they were, the Cacas would be in for another shock.  Maybe
one they couldn’t recover from.

Chapter Twenty-five

The time to take counsel of your fears is before
you make an important battle decision. That's the time to listen to every fear
you can imagine! When you have collected all the facts and fears and made your
decision, turn off all your fears and go ahead! George S. Patton

“The Cacas are starting
their deceleration toward the hyper barrier, Ma’am,” said the Analyst, standing
to the side of the CNOs station.

Sondra McCullom looked up
from the plot she was studying.  The battle of New Moscow (the Second? 
Third?), or was it the battle of the frontier, was just about to begin.  They
had beaten the Cacas, again, in every place but that system.  And they had
sustained heavy losses themselves, which made the words of King Pyrrhus come to
mind.  Too many more victories like this and they wouldn’t have a fleet.  By
all estimates the Cacas still had a massive fleet, with more ships on the way. 
Now it was up to her and the planning staff to figure out how to beat the next
force, and the one after that, until there were no more enemy fleets to beat. 
Only
if we can still defeat them in the New Moscow system
, she thought.  If they
lost that system, and the two gates leading into it, while the enemy had one of
their own, that would become what could only be called a new enemy home system,
able to bring in reinforcements at will.

The Grand High Admiral
didn’t have to ask which Caca force was decelerating toward which hyper
barrier.  The one moving toward New Moscow had been decelerating for some time,
and she knew to the minute when it would be entering that system.

“And what are our forces
doing?”

“The pursuit force is
still on their tail.  Half is decelerating so they can follow the Cacas into
hyper.  The other half is continuing to move at their maximum speed, hoping to
catch them before they reach the barrier.”

Sondra nodded as she
called up the information on her station.   There were seven Caca
superbattleships driving toward the barrier.  There were still about fifty of
the inertialess strike fighters shadowing them, making attacks of opportunity
that really amounted to nothing.  If one hit a Caca ship and came out of its
warp at the same time it might kill one.  It wasn’t something she could order,
compelling a crew to go to its death to take out an enemy.  And it wasn’t
something most ship commanders would contemplate.  If the station was still in
danger she might have considered it.  Since it was not, she wouldn’t.

The following force was
made up of six battleships, four battlecruisers and fourteen escorts.  It was a
force that might be able to take the Cacas.  Probably not, but it was a possibility. 
Splitting the force would leave them with one truncated squadron that might
damage some of the enemy ships, maybe even kill one or two, but would not stop
them.  The other truncated squadron would chase them through hyper, unable to
catch them, but able to keep tabs on them.  It was a hard decision, and maybe
not the one she would have made, but it was the one made by the commander on
the spot.

“What about the special
missiles?”

“Two of the inertialess
fighters are on the way, each carrying two of the special missiles.  They
should strike within the next fifteen minutes.”

And the chances that they
will hit anything with those weapons is just a little better than the chances
of winning the Imperial Sweepstakes
, thought the Admiral with a snort.  The weapons
had been developed to hit large structures in predictable paths, like orbiting
fortresses, shipyards or possibly groups of ships.  Hitting dispersed warships,
especially those moving at a high rate of speed, was the next best thing to
impossible.  But there was always the chance, no matter how slight.

“And Duchess Lei’s
group?”

“They are on course to
make an intercept, ma’am.  We have contact with them through their Klassekian
Com Tech.  We have not been able to track them since they went cold, and we’re
hoping the same is true for the Cacas.”

The Duchess was trying to
strike out of the shadows, taking the enemy by surprise, and her ships had
stopped boosting over twenty hours before.  They were still generating a bit of
heat, but not gravitons, and hopefully the Cacas had not noticed them.  At
least the huge aliens had not altered their course in a manner that suggested
they had seen her force and were now trying to avoid her.

“Keep me informed,” she
told the Analyst, turning back to her station.  She had work to do, and at the
moment the Battle of the
Donut
was a sideshow.  She really wanted to
kill those Caca ships, but they were not as important as what was going on
elsewhere.

Now, what can we do to
stabilize the Second Front?  And take back New Moscow if we have to?

*     *     *

“Disposition of the
enemy?” asked the High Admiral, staring at the system plot.

“No change, my Lord,”
replied the Tactical Officer.  “The two groups are still diverging.  The first
will hit us in two hours.  The second looks like it will translate into hyper
on a following course two hours and fifty-three minutes after our jump.”

“Foolish of them to split
their forces like that,” said the Chief of Staff.  “We will defeat the first
force, then lead the second on a chase they cannot win.  They should have just
sent all the ships after us on maximum acceleration.”

Foolish?
thought the High
Admiral. 
Unless they know something we don’t.

“How many missiles do we
have left?” he asked his Tactical Officer.

“This ship, my Lord? 
Sixty-one.  I believe the entire force has just under two hundred.”

That was a good sized
wave against a force the size of the one coming up on their stern.  When they
fired them they would have to decelerate to overcome the momentum they were
carrying from their launching ship.  It would take them over an hour to get
down to what was basically resting speed before they started their actual
acceleration toward the target.  They would actually be using the forward
velocity of the chasing force more than anything they generated.  The High
Admiral checked the figures in the computer.  Closing speed would be above
point nine light, within the optimum velocity, if just a little under.  Waiting
any longer would mean less distance of transit, and a lower closing speed.

“Fire all missiles on the
force that is closing with us,” he ordered his Tactical Officer.

“Are you sure, my Lord?”

“Are you questioning my
orders,” growled the High Admiral.  “If I give an order, I expect to have it
obeyed.”  His voice rose to a shout.  “Without question.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said the
wide eyed officer in a hushed voice.  “Orders sent out to all ships.  Launching
all missiles.”

The superbattleship shook
slightly as it released every missile in its stern tubes, then started the
rotation that would bring port, bow and starboard tubes around.  After the
starboard tubes had released it rotated back to the bow aiming at the enemy,
firing the only reloads aboard.  The other ships also released every offensive
missile they had, leaving the fleet devoid of long range weapons.  The missiles
adjusted their deceleration for a couple of minutes, forming up as a solid mass
that would strike in the same instant.  That accomplished, the weapons went
into full deceleration, starting to kill the velocity they were carrying from
the launching ships.

“Enemy ships are
returning fire,” called out the Tactical Officer.

The vector arrows of
missiles appeared on the plot, almost a hundred of them, then another wave,
followed by another.  Those ships were running with full magazines, and they
would have over two thousand missiles still aboard the force.  By the time they
caught up with the Ca’cadasan force they would be closing at less than point
four light, and the Ca’cadasan ships still had sufficient counter missiles,
barely, to take care of that attack.

And then they will wait
until they are much closer, and we have decelerated down to point four light
ourselves, and send another wave, maybe two or three, at us.

It was worrisome, but he
could only fight the battle in front of him, and worry about the next stage
when it came.  If he could fight off those waves, which would still be closing
at less than optimal velocity, with just his lasers and close in weapons, and
wait until the enemy ships were within beam range, he would have them.

“We have those fighters
coming in again, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer.  “We’re tracking two,
coming in on a different vector than we expected.”

The inertialess fighters
had continued to dog his force, coming in on high velocity attacks without
teeth.  They were down to an estimated forty or so, and since they hadn’t fired
missiles on any of their passes, it was assumed they had none.  The fighters
always went off on the opposite vector from their approach, which made sense
since they still carried considerable momentum, speeding off at point nine
light.  As soon as they were out of their pitiful laser range they jumped back
into their warp and accelerated away.  Which meant they had to go through
deceleration, stopping in space, and coming back, a maneuver that took some
hours to accomplish.

Two coming in on a
different vector at an unpredictable time meant they were not part of the
original groups.  Which meant, what?  That they might have missiles?

“What is their velocity?”

“Estimated velocity, one
point seven five light.”

Which meant they weren’t
slowing down for an attack.  Which meant?

“We’re picking up four
more objects, my Lord.  Separating from the fighters and heading our way.”

By the Gods
, thought the High
Admiral.  Those were the missiles they had fired at his force before they had
closed with the station.  They were highly inaccurate, but if they detonated
close to a target.

Four brilliant flares
blossomed in space as the missiles cut off their warp drives and the hidden
inertia caught up with them.  Three of the explosions were too far away to do
much more than warm the hulls of three of his vessels.  One detonated within
two hundred kilometers of one of the ships, flooding the hull with heat and
radiation.  Hull metal boiled away, grabber units overheated and went offline,
and the ship went into a slight tumble.

“Continue on,” ordered
the High Admiral as his bridge crew looked at him with questions on their
faces.  That ship was doomed, and there was nothing they could do for her. 
They would have to stop decelerating to stay with her, which would increase
their time in normal space, and their risk.  It was not worth that risk.

The damaged ship
continued to roll, its remaining grabbers trying to right the spin and bring
them back to an even keel.  It took some minutes to straighten out, and the
ship began to decelerate at its maximum rate, only two thirds of what the other
vessels could make.  It continued to gain distance on the other ships, almost
two kilometers per second per second, adding on to the total every second in a
geometric progression.

“The fighters are moving
away, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer.  “They don’t seem to be
decelerating.”

So that was their one
shot
, he
thought, staring at the plot, trying to detect other threats.

*     *     *

“We’ll be within our
planned missile firing range in five minutes, Ma’am,” said the Tactical
Officer, looking back at his Admiral.

Mei Lei sat still in her
chair, unmoving except for the motion of her head.  The plot was showing the
enemy force, six ships now, the seventh falling ahead on its damaged propulsion
system.  The vector arrows of Imperial missiles had almost reached them, those
that had avoided the Caca counters.  Those counters had unexpectedly ceased
going out before the human weapons had finished crossing their engagement
range, and the Admiral had to suspect that they were out.

The Caca missiles had
already struck their targets, and now there were only a pair of battleships and
a half dozen destroyers still closing on them. 
All they have left are their
lasers, and maybe some particle beams,
she thought.

Six Caca
superbattleships, and she was coming out of the dark with eight battlecruisers,
sixteen light cruisers and twenty-one destroyers.  They still outmassed her,
but some of them were damaged, while all of her ships were at full capability,
with the exception of missile loads.

“What is von
Rittersdorf’s status,” she asked her Com Tech.

The Klassekian closed her
eyes for a moment, going through multiple sibling groups of her species to
reach the Com Tech aboard the Duke’s ship.  He was leading nine light cruisers
and thirteen destroyers from his own destroyer flagship.  They would come in to
the rear of the Cacas, passing behind them at fifteen light seconds, bringing
them under fire on the approach and the retreat.  They had very specific
targets.  She hoped that her own squadron would capture most of the attention
of the enemy, as well as most of their fire.