Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike (26 page)

Amazing
, she thought, trying to wrap her mind around
the new reality of galactic travel. 
I actually travel eighty light hours
out of my way to save twenty minutes of transit time.  Our ancestors would
think we had lost it if we mentioned such a thing.
  But this was the new
reality, at least for the humans and their allies.  And, hopefully, never for
the enemy.

*    
*     *

“Your Empire has won a great battle against the
invaders,” said Klorasof, one of the Ancients that Xavier Jackson was familiar
with, its red and gold striping distinctive.  “And even more significantly,
they are forging a mighty alliance with the other peoples of this sector.”

“Then you think they are going to win this
thing?” asked Commander Xavier Jackson, the
guest
of the legendary
Ancients since they had rescued him from space.

“It is too early to tell,” said the creature,
waving its six arms in the air in a complicated dance of communication that the
human still had trouble reading.  It moved across the room on its belly cilia,
reaching an arm for a drinking container.  “The enemy you fight is strong, and
stubborn.  The odds of your people winning are less than thirty percent,
according to our best estimate.”

“And you can change those odds,” said Jackson,
launching into the same argument he had tried so many times with these
creatures.

“We can fight one battle,” said the Ancient,
its mouth wrinkling up in distaste at the last word.  “After that, we are no
longer a factor in the Galaxy.”

The aliens had explained to Jackson, many
times, that the Baby Universes they used for power could not be replenished
without a generating facility like the station the humans had around the black
hole.  Once they were empty, the creatures would have to depend on fusion, or
matter antimatter, both much too feeble for their needs.

“Then fight that battle and help us to win. 
And maybe my people can charge up some more of those bottles for you.”

“Eventually,” said the alien, an expression on
its mouth which Jackson had come to associate with wistfulness.  “Eventually. 
But not now.”

Chapter
Sixteen

The
power to wage war is the power to wage war successfully.

Charles Evans Hughes

CONUNDRUM SYSTEM. 
DECEMBER 12
^TH
, 1001.

“Something’s happening, sir,” called out Ngovic
from his tactical station.

“What do you have, Tactical?” asked Suttler,
moving up behind the junior officer’s chair.

“Over four hundred enemy ships, heading away
from the fleet,” said Ngovic, pointing to the movement on the holo over his
board, tracked by their graviton emissions.  “Accelerating away as one force
for the moment.”

“Shit,” said Suttler, staring at the holo. 
“This really isn’t what command wanted.” 
And we depended too much on the
enemy doing just what we want.  The most basic of military axioms.  The enemy
never does what you want them to.

They watched the holo in silence for some
minutes, Suttler looking over at the Com Officer at one point to make sure the
data was going out.

“We’re getting some separation in the groups,”
said Ngovic, his finger pointing to the body that was showing some gaps in two
places.  “Looks like three equal groups, all moving to jump on different
courses.”

Maybe they’ll be back in time to catch some of
our gifts
,
thought Suttler, thinking of the four hundred missiles they had sent accelerating
at a leisurely twenty gravities toward the system.  At their small size, the
distance, and the low graviton load, they would be completely undetectable by
the enemy on the way in.  They would cut acceleration at point two light, and
coast the rest of the way, making minor course corrections to bring them to
their targets and their final runs.

Right now, that attack was no longer the
priority.  That had been overtaken by what looked like three strong enemy
raiding parties heading out to cause damage to the Empire’s industrial base.

A moment later all of the enemy ships had
jumped to hyper I, and their courses had diverged from each other even further.

*    
*     *

“Shit,” cursed Admiral Mara Montgomery,
watching the plot that was being relayed from one of her scout squadrons.  She
really couldn’t think of anything else to say, and that one word seemed to be
most appropriate to this situation.

Three goddamn raider forces, all heading for
different targets, and we won’t be able to track them once they get past the
pickets.  Not without our ships giving themselves away, which will probably
lead to the enemy destroying them.

The problem was all of her ships were on picket
duty, tracking the comings and goings of the enemy.  They were able to do that
without giving themselves away, since they were sitting in normal space.  If
they were to pursue the enemy, they would have to jump into hyper, giving away
their positions, and then try to either catch the enemy, or guess where they
were going and get there first.  Either way, if the enemy didn’t want to be
tracked, they could break off a smaller force from their raiding parties to
pursue and destroy their trackers.  Or she could try to move other scouts into
position by guesswork, never the best of solutions, but maybe the only one she
had.

No, I’m going to have to order some of my
pickets to pursue.  Not really fair to those crews, but necessary.  And just
who are going to be the lucky bastards that get chosen for that mission?

Montgomery looked over the holo that showed the
disposition of her forces and picked out the two task forces that were closest
to the enemy’s courses. 
That’s their job
, she thought of the two task
force commanders. 
Not really fair of me to put this on them, but it is
their job to choose the ships they want to pursue.  Or am I just coward enough
to give them that responsibility?

Most of the people in Sector IV would have
looked at Mara Montgomery in disbelief if they had heard those thoughts.  She
was counted as one of the most audacious scout commanders in the Fleet.  Of
course, it was easier putting herself and her ship in danger, than ordering
others to do it for her.  She had done just that in the past.  A good example
of that was when she had ordered ships into danger to cover her own while the
Emperor was aboard.  She hadn’t liked it then, and she still didn’t.

“Get me Commodore Lacy on the com,” she told
her Com Officer, dreading the need to give the order.  But this was one she
couldn’t duck.

*    
*     *

“Well, shit,” growled Commodore Edward Lacy
after the com terminated. 
Shit really does roll downhill.
  He hated the
order.  He especially hated the part of the order that said he was not to take
himself and his ship on the pursuit. 
So I get to tell off some of my
subordinates to go on what could very well be a suicide mission.  And I don’t
have any time to waste.

The Commodore looked over his dispositions and
made a quick decision.  He needed at least two ships with wormhole coms, and
preferred at least one battle cruiser.  He looked over his possibilities and
made his choices, five ships to form a pursuit force. 
And now for the hard
part
, he thought, ordering the com officer to connect him to those
officers, through the wormhole where one was available, relayed through a wormhole
com equipped ship where not.  All the time wishing that the Admiral was back
from her leave to make these decisions.

*    
*     *

“Captain Yurik will be in command of the
squadron,” the Commodore told von Rittersdorf over the com.  “
Lisboa
is
the largest ship of the force,” he continued, naming the hyper VII battle
cruiser.  “She also has a wormhole launch system, so will carry the most
firepower.  Captain Yurik has been given instructions to use his ship as the
contact vessel, while yours will be tail end Charlie, so we have a guarantee of
a com link.”

Maurice felt relief at those orders, and shame
on top of the relief.  His ship would be outside of the sensors of the enemy. 
The chances of his ship coming back had increased exponentially.  That was not
true for the battle cruiser, the light cruiser or the two other destroyers
tasked with this mission.

“I understand, Commodore,” he said, trying to
keep his voice steady.

“We need for all of you to grab the enemy and
hold on.  We have to know what their target is.  If you can keep them under
observation, even halfway to their target, we can probably get ships in front
of them.  Good luck, Captain.”

The holo went blank, and a moment later the
Captain of the
Lisboa
was on the com.  “We’ll meet here, von Rittersdorf,”
ordered the senior captain, as a map came up on a second holo that showed the
rendezvous point for all the ships.  “Right now I plan to stick to them on
their port flank.  But we’ll have to play it by ear the whole way.  Any
questions?”

“No, sir,” said von Rittersdorf, looking at the
proposed meeting point and finding no fault with it, or the strategy. 
Other
than it would be nice to have a dozen battleship squadrons with us.

“Then we’ll see you there.  Make sure your ship
stays out of Caca sensor range.  Yurik out.”

And that’s one order I will be glad to obey
, thought the junior
Captain, ordering his helm to put them on a course toward the meeting point.

*    
*     *

SECTOR IV SPACE.

“We have some more information to feed your
bosses,” said Sonia Rupert, trying not to stare at the orange striped creature
standing before her.  This was her tenth meeting with the creature, a Maurid,
ostensibly a client species of the Cacas. 
But not as subservient or
reliable as the damned big aliens think. 
The Maurid still intimidated her,
despite being genetically augmented herself.  The way the creature moved, the
way the muscles slid into place under the fur, the razor sharp claws and teeth,
all bespoke the deadliness of the creature.

She handed over the data chip and waited as the
operative put it in a reader and scanned its contents.  “Smart of you,” said
the Maurid who had been asked to be called just that, the Maurid.  “It might
arouse their suspicions to receive information that the station was destroyed. 
Two years, huh.  That should help them to regain some of their arrogance.”

“That’s what we’re hoping, at least,” said
Sonia, nodding, then wondering if the creature even knew what the gesture
meant. 
She’s a damned spy, so she must know.

“And what have you got for me?”

“A real gem,” said the creature with a toothy
smile.  “I’m not sure you’re going to like it, but as far as I can tell, it’s
genuine.”

The Maurid passed over a chip similar to the
one she had just given the creature, the kind of nondescript memory that was
used in millions of different machines.  Only this one would dissolve in human
saliva.  If she popped it in her mouth, it was gone in moments.

Sonia placed the chip into a slot on the small
reader she carried, looked over the screen, then sucked in a breath.  “Are you
sure about this?”

“As sure as we can be,” said the Maurid.  “This
really isn’t in our area, but one of our agents overheard some talk that
shouldn’t have been going on in public.  A quick search, a little hack, and
there you have it.”

“Shit.  This is not good.”

“I think the process the human is talking about
is not on the same level as what you use.  The Ca’cadasan Empire will always be
behind you in that respect.”

“Any advances they make in that direction are
totally unwelcome,” said Rupert, scrolling down the info.  “Any chance we might
be able to intercept this human.  It would be worth the loss of a battle group
to keep him from getting to your Empire.”

“Not my Empire, human.  And no, he has left the
Conundrum system by now, on a roundabout path back to the Empire.  If you
haven’t intercepted him by now, you won’t.

“And we understand you are about to go on the
offensive again,” said the Maurid after a moment’s hesitation.

Rupert stiffened, not sure what to say.  “I’m
not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”

The Maurid laughed.  “Quite understandable. 
Don’t worry.  We have already developed this intelligence, and my spies think I
have already sent it up the line.  Which I will, of course, only not in its
entirety.”

Sonia nodded her head at that.  The Maurid had
to pass on some straight information, if only to keep her bosses satisfied that
she was actually spying for them, and not instead working as a double agent.

“The Great Admiral is expecting some
reinforcements as well, both from the Republic, which you probably already know
about, given those wonderful wormholes you use in such abundance.  But also
more from the Empire, which you will not know about for several more weeks,
when they penetrate the
Slot
.  You’ll find that on the chip as well, and
a profile of the highest ranking officers of the conquest fleet.  Maybe that
will help you to kill more of the assholes.”

“And some of your people as well?” asked
Rupert.  “Doesn’t that part bother you?”

“Sacrifices must be made, if we are ever going
to get out from under the subjugation of the Ca’cadasans.  We would prefer that
others make the sacrifices, but if some of us must die, so be it.  If further
generations are to gain their freedom, even if it’s within your Empire, it will
be worth it.”

“Thank you,” said Rupert with a head nod.  The
creature did not like being touched, as Sonia had learned at an earlier
meeting.  “I’ll be in touch.”

“One other piece of information, that we
learned from our friends, the Knockermen,” said the creature, her lips sneering
as she said
friends
and
Knockermen
.  “The shape shifters are in
your capital, in force.  They are planning to strike, to try and take out a
head of government.  During some kind of celebration.”

The Imperial Wedding
, thought the IIA agent
in a panic.  “I have to get this information to where it can do some good,” she
told the Maurid, turning and starting to walk away.  She looked back for a
moment, and the creature was already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

*    
*     *

SECTOR IV SPACE.

“Dr. Tashiga disagrees with you,” said the
Captain Walter Orendorf, the commander of the
Gringo
, looking at Dr.
Southard over his glasses.

And what the hell are you trying to do with
those eye glasses?
thought Southard, staring at the Captain.  Nobody suffered from impaired
eyesight, not for the last thousand years.  The genes for those kind of defects
had been removed from the gene pool.  Only people trying to achieve some kind
of fashion look wore them, and the scientist could think of no reason someone
aboard a research ship would need to pursue such an affectation.

“Dr. Tashiga is wrong,” said Southard, his
voice rising, unable to believe this, officer, was unable to listen to reason. 
“Look.  I am acknowledged as the foremost expert on supernovas in the Empire. 
Dr. Tashiga is not.  That should settle the question, here and now.”