Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 (16 page)

The pilot nodded,
checked a few indicators, and took the ship up on grabbers.  The Admiral looked
to the side at the huge city that just the other day was in the middle of a millennial
celebration. 
Supposed to last a whole year
, thought the Admiral.  There
had been events planned out for the entire T-year, to culminate in the Imperial
Athletic Games that would have brought maybe a billion people to the planet. 
Instead
we have a yearlong period of mourning for an assassinated Emperor
.

The shuttle passed over
Peal Island, the nine hundred square kilometer land mass at the mouth of the
bay.  Down there was the primary academy for training officers of the fleet.  Len
was scheduled to make a commencement speech for this year’s graduating class,
those who had spent their four years of classroom studies and were preparing to
go on field studies.  He wondered how the war the Emperor knew was coming would
affect that graduation.  The fleet would need more officers, and soon, and many
of those young men and women might have to get on the job field training, in a
shooting war.

The island and the
surface of the ocean dropped behind and below as the ship moved into space,
pulling the gravities needed to go directly to geosynch and the ship waiting
for the Admiral.  He trusted the Captain of that ship, as he trusted the Admiral
of its task force.  He could not force them to take the risk that he knew he
must.  A risk to both free an innocent woman, and get military necessary
production back on schedule.

The forward port hanger
of
Valkyrie
was ready for him, with a full Marine honor guard and
gathered ship’s officers to pipe him aboard.

“At ease,” he barked as
he stepped from the shuttle onto the deck of the hanger.  “Thank you for the
welcoming committee, Captain Mathers,” he said to the blond commander of the
vessel.  She tilted her head, then led him to the flag bridge he would occupy
for this short mission.  The bridge was occupied by a full complement of
officers, even though there would only be two battleships involved in this
day’s events.

“I’ll be on the
bridge,” said the Captain to the Chief of Naval Operations who had been
commandant when she had graduated from Peal Island five decades before.  “We
are ready to do whatever you feel is necessary sir.”

“With no hesitation,
Connie?”

“None at all, sir,”
said the small trim officer.  “If you want that damned wanderer destroyed we
will be obliged to do it.”

“I hope it doesn’t come
to that,” said the CNO with a smile.  “I appreciate this, Connie.  Now get her
under way.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said
the Captain, snapping to attention and giving a salute, then spinning on her
heel and walking from the flag bridge.

“We are under way, sir”
said one of the officers sitting a station on the lower level.

“
Odin
is also
under way,” called out another officer.

“Thank you,” said the Admiral,
plopping back in the elevated chair that allowed him a total view of the large
bridge.  He couldn’t even feel the twenty million ton superbattleship moving,
which was not surprising, given her well-tuned compensators.  He looked over at
a wall repeater which showed the fifteen million ton battleship that was
Valkyrie’s
consort on this impromptu mission.

“Ten hours to hyper
limit,” called out an officer.

“Incoming message for
the Admiral,” said the com tech from her position on his level.

“I’ll take it in my day
cabin,” said the Admiral, getting up from the chair and heading for the exit
that led to the Admiral’s cabin on all capital ship flag bridges. 
One of
the advantages of standardization
, he thought as he headed into his cabin.

As soon as he took a
seat at the desk in the cabin he activated the com with his link, and was
unsurprised to see the image of Ekaterina Sergiov, the head of the IIA, appear.

“So,” said the woman
with a slight accent of her home world, St. Peiter, coming through her educated
overlay.  “You are in space.”

“I don’t see that I
have any other choice,” said the Admiral, the slight touch of fear in his
chest.  He was doing this on his own, and the consequences could be grave.  “I
failed my Emperor and my friend.  I can’t allow the search for a scapegoat to
hurt the Empire.  And what are your findings.”

“She is innocent,” said
the head of Imperial Intelligence, her face troubled.  “I have told that to my
counterpart in IIB, and he will do nothing about it.  He will not say it, but I
think you are correct, Len, my friend.  He needs a scapegoat, and is not
willing to admit that he was caught with his pants down.”

“Hell, we were all
caught with our pants down, Kate,” he said to the woman he had once been
married to, in what seemed a lifetime before.  Before their careers had pulled
them apart.  “I feel like I have betrayed Augustine myself, as if I launched
that missile that tossed him and the Imperial family into that damned star
eater.”

“We all failed the
Emperor,” said the chief spy of the Empire.  “At least we have admitted it on
behalf of our two agencies.  That damned McGregor would not admit to any
failings.  His Bureau must maintain a perfect record, even if we both know it
doesn’t have one.”

“Did you try him
again?” said the Admiral, knowing what the answer would be, but hopeful
nonetheless.

“Yes,” said the woman,
her angry eyes glaring into the screen.  “He said it was a criminal
investigation, and so in his jurisdiction.  And warned me to keep my agency out
of it.  When I asked him about what proof he had, he said he didn’t have to
have any.  He could hold her indefinitely.”

“And sabotage the
efforts of the
Donut
Project to get the Fleet what they need,” said the Admiral
in a growl.

“How far are you
willing to go?” she asked, her eyes showing her concern for an old friend and
lover.

“As far as I have to,”
he replied, slamming a hand down on his desk.  “We’ll be eight light hours from
com link to the capital, so they won’t be able to contact McGregor.  I really
don’t expect much resistance.  But whatever they give I will push back, and
harder.”

“I’ll back you up,”
said Ekaterina with a nod.  “You know that.”

“I know,” said the Admiral,
feeling his eyes moisten.  “And I’m sorry I failed you in the past.”

“No need,” said the spy
master with a smile, her own eyes glistening withheld tears.  “We both got what
we wanted out of life.  And we parted as friends.  What more could we ask?”

“True,” said the Admiral,
holding back his own tears.  They both sat there in silence for a moment.  “You
watch your back,” he finally said to the chief spy.

“My back is watched,”
said Ekaterina.  “You do the same.  There will be people after your hide.”

“This is my office for
the duration,” said the Admiral with a chuckle.  “If they want to try for me
they’re going to have to come through the Fleet to get me.”

“I just hope it doesn’t
result in civil war,” said the woman, her eyes narrowing.  “That’s something we
surely can’t afford, especially now.”

“We have the Fleet and
the Army on our side,” said the Admiral, the image of a civil war also in
mind.  “I think it would be very short, if it came to that.  Not that I want
that to happen.  But I also cannot let things proceed the way they are. 
McGregor is in the Lords’ pocket.  No doubt.  And I cannot let him proceed with
what he is doing.  That project is just too important to the safety of the
Empire.”

Well, be careful,” said
the chief spy.  “Remember, we all felt that the Emperor was safe in the hands
of the Fleet.  It only takes one assassin in the right place to make all the
security in the world useless.”

Ekaterina broke the
link at that, and the Admiral thought of what she had to say for a moment.  The
sense of guilt came back to haunt him.  The Fleet had failed to protect their
Emperor.  Even worse, a trusted member of the Fleet had killed the Emperor and
most of his family, as well as fellow officers and spacemen.  It was a blot on
the honor of the Fleet, and to his personal sense of honor. 
But I’ll be
damned if I let it lead to even more dishonorable actions
.

The Admiral lay down on
the bed that was provided with the cabin, ordering it through the link to set
itself to his personal comfort level.  His brain was in turmoil, but his link
projected the deep delta waves that placed him into an immediate slumber.  The
link woke him up at the same time the slight nausea of hyper translation would
have done the same.

“We’re in hyper I Admiral,”
came the voice of Captain Connie Mathers.  “Mission proceeding according to
plan.

“Thank you, Connie,”
replied the Admiral, getting up from the bed, smoothing his uniform, the
wrinkles falling away.  “I’ll be on the flag bridge.”

The officers and ratings
all jumped to attention as the Admiral walked onto the second level of the flag
bridge, his eyes tracking onto the large holo tank in the center of the room. 
He waved a hand, sending everyone back to their ease, wondering again who had
come up with the silly custom of men and women stopping their important work to
stroke the ego of some bastard just because he entered their line of sight.

The holo displayed the
whole of the supersytem, from the black hole in the center to the seventh star
out in its lonely orbit.  All of the planets were indicated with vector arrows
and numbers that signified speed of orbit and distance from the flagship.  He
thought through his link and his personal view of the holo changed, zooming in
on the flagship and her consort.  Their vector arrows appeared, and the line of
the hyper I limit showed behind them, the line of hyper II ahead.  The mission
profile was to jump each hyper as soon as they got to it, staying below point
two light relative velocity, until they jumped to hyper VI.  Then it was a
least time accel/decel profile to the target, popping out of hyper VI directly
into normal space.  Of course the target would know they were coming, and would
also know they were Imperial Fleet vessels.  With luck they would not think
anything of it.

The Admiral went to his
seat and sat, brooding on his thoughts and waiting for time to pass.  The ship
in time jumped up to hyper II, then III, then along the line up to VI.  At this
point the vessels went into an acceleration profile, two hundred and fifty
gravities just a little under half way there, then two fifty decel the rest of
the way.  All this time the Admiral thought about what he was doing, having
doubts, thinking through possible consequences, knowing that if the Emperor
were still alive he would not have this problem thrust upon him.  Augustine
would have handled the situation with a word.  Even Sean would have handled the
situation.  Of that the Admiral was sure.  Because Sean was his father’s son,
above all else.

But Sean is not here
, thought the Admiral. 
Someone had already made an attempt on the Prince.  And they might have made
further attempts on his life since the news had come from Sector Four.  Of
course Sean was now protected by the Fleet.  But the Fleet had failed his
father, mother and brothers.  The only family member in direct line was a child
who would be too easily manipulated.  So that left the problem square in his
lap.

High Grand Admiral Len
Lenkowski, Chief of Naval Operations, had sworn an oath when he entered
Imperial Service, to defend the Empire against all enemies, foreign and
domestic.  Intentional or not, the act of Director McGregor of the IIB was
hurting the efforts of the military to prepare for a war they were sure was
coming.  Parliament might not agree with that assumption, but the Emperor the Admiral
had sworn to serve was sure of it, and that was good enough for him.

“Translating back to
normal space,” came a call from the nav officer on the ship’s bridge.

Damn
, thought the Admiral
as the nausea struck. 
What happened to the time?

The ship slipped
through the iris that was filled with normal space, away from the strange space
of hyper.  They were slowly coasting, moving at a mere six hundred kilometers
per second.

“Range to target four
hundred twelve thousand kilometers,” came the voice of the navigator again.

Almost a perfect
translation
,
thought the Admiral.  Eleven minutes at current speed, though the ship was now
piling on deceleration so she could come to a stop just short of the small
planet.

“Imperial warship
Valkyrie
,”
came the voice over the com.  “This is Purgatory control.  What are your
intentions?”

“Don’t answer that,”
said the Admiral to the staff.  “Let them sweat for a moment.  Tactical. 
Target all laser and particle beam systems of the task force on their defensive
weapons.  Distribute targets between
Valkyrie
and
Odin.
  All
Marines to assault shuttles.”

The confirmations came
back quickly, the plan being set into motion by an experienced team.

“We are getting
inquiries from the defense force,” called the com officer.