Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers (Exodus: Empires at War.) (14 page)

“Note the
hardened bunkers in these barracks, most of which are built close to the
camps.”

Baggett did note
them, and in his mind they were one of the things that made this entire mission
a gold plated bitch.

“Why can’t we
hit them with kinetics before going in?” asked a battalion commander from the
Phlistaran division of Baggett’s corps.  “It would be a lot easier than
trying to take them by ground assault.”

“It is thought
that the use of kinetic weapons powerful enough to defeat the bunkers would
prove much too harmful to the human civilians, many of whom are within a few
kilometers of the target zone.”

The big
Phlistaran Lt. Colonel nodded his massive head.  It was easy enough to
forget, when your own species massed a half ton and was covered in armor plate,
that humans were much more fragile.

“Surely we can
hit them with something that leaves the captives untouched,” said a human
brigade CO.  Baggett was glad to see it wasn’t a man with one of his
divisions, since to him it seemed like a very stupid statement.  The
Intelligence Officer must have thought so too, but couldn’t say such to 
full bird colonel.

“Give them a
demonstration, Huan,” ordered General Lucius Arbuckle, the Army commander.

The almond eyed
woman gave the four star a slight bow, then started punching up commands on her
flat comp.  The holo changed to view one of the bunker complexes.  It
was laid out much like a human camp of that type would be, with a high berm wall
and weapons towers on each corner.  Within the camp were a couple of
administrative buildings above ground, three large heavy structures that were
the entrances to underground garages.  Six smaller structures were
arranged closer to the center, the entrances to the underground bunkers that
housed barracks and armories.

“The surface
structures are of course armored,” said Huan, her laser pointer landing on one
of the administration buildings.  “Nothing that a modern infantry borne
heavy weapon couldn’t handle.  The entrances to garages and bunkers are
something different altogether.”

The holo showed
a simulation of an infantry launched antitank weapon striking one of the admin
buildings and blasting a large hole in the side.  The same kind of weapon
then struck one of the bunker entrances. There was the same kind of explosion,
but not more than superficial penetration.  One then hit the door,
blasting a hole through.

“Now,
unfortunately, blowing a hole through the door will not cause any significant damage
to the underground structure.  To do that will take something much more
powerful.”

The holo showed
another weapon coming in at slow motion, striking the hardened structure, and
seeming to blot it out in a flash of bright fire.  When the fire cleared,
there was a large hole, almost the whole side of the structure, showing.

“This would do
enough damage that there would be significant casualties down below, possibly
total.”  The holo zoomed out to show the camp at a distance, along with
the edge of the human enclosure.  The fireball rose from the strike,
spreading out, burning through vegetation while it rolled toward the
enclosure.  Tents flared into fire and dissolved to nothing, while
representative humans became torches that fell to the ground, twitching for
moments before going still.

Baggett knew
this was only a simulation.  But it was a realistic simulation, hitting
him right in the gut.

“As you can see,
a weapon that would destroy one of the bunkers would also cause significant
damage to the nearby camp, and its inhabitants.”

“What about
dropping individual bunker busters on each one?” asked another officer. 
“You know, localize the damage to the underground region?”

The holo moved
in again, the enemy camp miraculously restored.  A bunker buster round, a
long rod penetrator, came down on the top of one of the structures and
disappeared in a spray of dust.  An explosion rose through the hole, the
sign of the fury of what was going on underground.  This time the
explosion was contained enough where the human camp was not damaged.

“Unfortunately,
it will take seven of these to take out the one camp, and we have limited
orbital support at the initial stages of the mission.  So, while we might
be able to do some damage, we will not be able to take out the entire
camp.  So, if we drop a heavy nuke or antimatter weapon.”

The holo changed
again, another flash, this one much larger than any previous.  Again the
fireball rose, and the heat wave rolled out, and a large section of the human
camp burned, while the rest was battered with the blast.

“So, ladies and
gentlemen, as you can see, we really don’t have much choice in the matter,”
said General Arbuckle, standing and sweeping the room with his gaze.  “We
are going to have to take these camps by close assault, or at least bottle up
the troops inside them so they can’t interfere with our evacuation of the
civilians.”

“We’re going to
take casualties,” said Major General Kristoff Parker, one of the division
commanders of the other corps.  “More than I want to think about.”

“That’s what
they pay us for, boys and girls,” said Arbuckle with a tight smile that held
little humor.  “We’re soldiers, and it’s our job to do the bleeding, so
the civilians don’t have to.  Make no mistake about it.  There are
going to be casualties.  Among us, hopefully more among the Cacas, but
also among the civilians we are there to rescue.  All I can ask anyone
here, and all those under your command, to do is your best.  Now let’s get
to our dispositions.”

“Yes, sir,” said
Huang, as the holo changed again to a view of the major hemisphere of the
planet.  “Each of these camps will have a combined arms battalion assigned
to its assault.  Each assault force will comprise a full battalion of
infantry, an armored company, and a company of armored engineers.”

Twenty-five of
the camps started blinking on the globe, leaving three that weren’t.  “The
rest of the Army will be held in reserve so that they can be reinforced if
necessary.  We will use two wormhole gates at each camp.  A company
of Rangers or Force Recon will also be on site for each camp, and will
coordinate with the assault team commanders. ”

“What about the
three camps that aren’t blinking?” asked Baggett, staring at that section of
the map.

“Those camps
will be handled by special ops.  We’re trying something new there. 
Hopefully it will go as planned.”

Baggett knew how
that went.  Some genius had come up with another plan, one that would
bring glory to his part of the service if it worked.  And which would
result in a bloodbath if it didn’t.

*    
*     *

Seastag
sat
in space fifty-four million kilometers from New Moscow, three light
minutes.   Or, more accurately, it was in an orbit of the star at
that approximate distance from the planet, watching as the world caught up to
the straight line that would occur between it and the sun in two and a half
days.  It sat there like a small asteroid, radiating almost nothing. 
Unlike an asteroid, it was also reflecting nothing.

Commodore Bryce
Suttler sat in his command chair, looking at the tactical holo that showed the
enemy shipping that was not coming closer than two light minutes to any of the
ships under his command.  Four squadrons of Stealth/Attack ships, eight
vessels to each squadron, for a total of thirty two of the craft.  Each
had deployed two wormholes to the planet, while
Seastag
and three other
vessels,
Grampus
,
Orca
and
Cachalot,
held the semi
collapsed framework of a wormhole ship gate on their hulls.  Each gate had
all the carbon alloy framework and negative matter it would need to expand into
a full sized ship portal.  All it would take was time, and hopefully he
could deploy all of the gates before they were noted by the enemy.  It all
depended on so much that was beyond his control.  That was something that
every naval officer was faced with in his or her career.  They never had
to like it, but they did have to acknowledge it.

The tactical
holo also showed the location of all of his vessels, transmitted through the
wormhole com net.  Unlike any time in history, ships could sit within
enemy territory and communicate with each other, without that enemy knowing.

Sixty-two hours
before this part of the operation went down.   Sixty-two hours. 
The time couldn’t go by fast enough, when, despite their stealth advantages,
they could still be discovered by fluke chance on any tick of that clock. 
The wait was nerve wracking, and though he wouldn’t have believed it, the
action would have to be a letdown after the tension of waiting.

Chapter Eleven

Regard your soldiers as your
children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as
your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.

Sun Tzu.

NEW MOSCOW PICKET, APRIL 6
^TH
,
1002.

“
Oglethorpe
is
picking up multiple contacts in hyper VII, on a direct heading for New Moscow,”
called out the Com Officer on the bridge of the light cruiser
Orleans.
 
“Range, four light years in normal space.  Estimated pseudospeed,
thirty-eight thousand light speed.”

“How many
contacts?” asked Commodore Natasha Romanov, pulling herself out of the bed of
her day cabin and ordering the tactical holo to come alive over her desk with a
thought.  She zoomed out on the holo until the first of the red vector
arrows that indicated enemy shipping appeared on the three dimensional
display.  She zoomed further out until she reached the edge of the net’s
sensor range for vessels in hyper VII traveling at their velocity.

“They’ve counted
a hundred and forty-seven so far, ma’am.  A hundred and sixty-three. 
More keep coming. Ma’am.”

“I’ll be up in a
moment,” she said as she pulled on her shipboard skinsuit.  It took a
moment to pull on and seal the boots, then pull her belt on and click it
closed.  Then she was out the door at a run heading down the corridor to
the bridge.

Unlike Imperial
ships, Republic vessels didn’t station Marines at the entrance to vital command
centers or the commander’s quarters.  They did have automated ID systems
that saw she was someone authorized entry, that she was not under duress of any
kind, and the door opened for her.

“We’ve counted
over five hundred of the vessels, ma’am,” reported her Tactical Officer as she
headed for her chair and flung herself into it.

“I assume we’re
letting the net commander know what’s going on?” she asked her Com Officer.

“Yes, ma’am,”
said the Com Officer, looking back at the Commodore for a moment before turning
her attention back to her board.

Actually, the
information was not just going to the net commander, since it had to first be
transmitted by wormhole com back to the headquarters of the Republic Navy,
which sent it to the Imperial communications net and then on to the Imperial
Fleet cruiser which commanded this screen.  All of those would be
monitoring the incoming coms, and every major command in the sector would know
about the Cacas as soon as everyone in the screen did.

The ships in the
screen did what they were supposed to, nothing but sit there and keep track of
what was coming through their space.  They had the capability to launch
missiles that could translate from normal space into hyper VII, but the command
had not come down to do so.  Higher command must have thought it was more
important to remain unseen and unknown than to try to pick off some few of what
looked to be a massive enemy force.

An hour later
the last enemy ship had passed, and the final tally had been sent up the
line.  Over three thousand vessels, the great majority of them
warships.  Eight hundred of the huge superbattleships, another eight
hundred of the supercruisers, along with sixteen hundred of the large scout
ships.  All headed for New Moscow as far as they could tell from their
current heading.

“Where in the
hell did they get a force like that?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking back
at the Commodore.

I wish I knew
,
was her thought.  They thought they had routed the enemy force in this
space, except for what remained in the remains of the Kingdom of New
Moscow.  And as far as they knew, the Cacas hadn’t had any fresh forces
close enough to deploy this quickly.

“How long until
they reach New Moscow?” she asked her Navigation Officer, well aware that the
operation concerning that world was kicking off in two and a half days.

“Five days,
ma’am,” said the Navigation Officer.  “Which means..”

Which means
they’ll get there while the operation is still going on
, thought the
Commodore,
and well before the battle fleet arrives
.  And that
could spell disaster for the civilians.

*    
*     *

PLANET NEW MOSCOW.

“There,” said
the Intelligence Officer, looking through the tiny wormhole as the operator
maneuvered it through the camp.  The wormhole was actually hanging in the
air, twenty meters above the ground.  It was only a centimeter across,
floating on a micro-grabber that was not detectable against all of the
background noise the Cacas were generating themselves.

The view had
been grim, row after row of tents with starving people sitting on the ground in
front of them.  It was not yet curfew, so the inhabitants were forced to
be out in the open.  They watched as the meager rations were served. And
people wolfed down the insufficient food.  The Cacas were only interested
in keeping the people alive so they would still be fresh meat when they were
processed.

They had been
looking for certain people, those who had been members of the military prior to
the invasion.  There were not as many as predicted, and after watching the
Cacas move through the camp and harvest the people the Imperial operatives
could guess why.  The Cacas had everyone marked, and anyone who was
reported as a trouble maker or agitator was killed and taken for processing.

But now they had
spotted one who had been a colonel in the New Moscow Army, Pietrov Gorbunov,
who appeared to be laying low and not letting himself be marked for early termination. 
The same kind of surveillance was being done on all the camps, hoping for the
best.

“Get the
operatives ready,” said the Intelligence Officer.  “I think we have a go.”

Moments later the
four members of the resistance that had been assigned this mission came into
the chamber, looking wide eyed at the scene being shown on viewer.  The
three men and a woman were all thin, if not quite on the same level of
starvation as those in the camp.  They wore the same dirty rags of
clothing that the inmates of the camp wore, dirt was caked under their
fingernails and in the crevices in their faces.

“We located
Gorbunov in this camp,” said the Intelligence Officer to Sharon Vakhrusshev,
the leader of the party, and a former intelligence operative for New
Moscow.  “That was one of the people you named as a possible contact.”

“Yes, it was,”
said the woman in a voice that vibrated with nervousness.  She looked over
the man’s face on the viewer in the scene it had captured of him before it
panned the area around the man.  “I can only hope he hasn’t changed, that
he still has the spirit to resist.”

The Commander
nodded as she looked at Vakhrusshev.  All of these people, what there was
of an underground, had escaped the clutches of the Cacas and somehow survived
on the planet.  It was asking much to ask them to give themselves into
captivity, even if it was supposedly a hidden deployment.  If the Cacas
decided to check their chips they would be found to have none, and that would
raise questions that would probably lead to their deaths.  And if the man
they were being sent to contact had sold out for the chance of a longer life,
they would also be dead.

“Is the mission
still a go, Senior Agent?”

Vakhrusshev looked
over at the other people in her group.  All were augmented, and even if
not in full flesh, they were stronger and faster than unaugmented humans. 
Rangers or Naval Commandos could be sent in if the New Moscow team refused to
go, which was their right, as they were not under the Imperial chain of
command, and they were volunteers.  The biggest problem was that Imperial
special ops would look out of place with their muscular, well fed bodies.

“It’s a go,”
said the Senior Agent after getting the head nods from her people.

The Intelligence
Officer nodded, then looked back at the rating who was operating the wormhole’s
propulsion systems.  Once the team was through they would be out of touch
with them while they moved the wormhole back to its pre-assault placement. 
They had working implants, and would be carrying transmitter amplifiers that
would be off until needed.

The rating moved
the wormhole down closer to the ground, slowly, going for one of the few places
in the camp that was not under direct surveillance.  A short burst of
jamming that could be mistaken for random static hit that area, and the
wormhole expanded quickly under an inflation of negative matter under a
magnetic field.

“Go,” ordered
the Intelligence Officer to the team, and one of the men took a running leap
into the wormhole, which was expanded just enough to take his horizontal
body.  The wormhole on the other side had unshielded negative matter
holding it open, and there was real danger of contact with it.  And matter
contacting negative matter canceled each out, which could have disastrous
consequences for both the agent and the wormhole.

The viewer
showed the man coming out of the wormhole and hitting the ground in a roll,
coming back to his feet and rushing into the nearest tent.  The second man
followed, then Vakhrusshev, followed by her last man.

The wormhole
closed up to its original centimeter diameter, then moved to the edge of one of
the tents.  It hovered over the ground for a moment, then hit the dirt
with enough force to raise a tiny dust ring.  The wormhole ate into the
ground, while the hole within the chamber rotated on its frame until it was
aimed into a side cavern that was not being used.  Dirt started spewing
from the end and it dug its way down, till it was ten meters under the
earth.  At that point it expanded to an opening two meters across, this
time the hole held steady by the expanding framework that came through from the
other side.

Now began an
hour of work, the rating, part of the Naval Engineering Corps, moving the hole
back and forth until he had excavated a series of ten by ten meter chambers
under the camp. At that point he moved the wormhole to the side and parked it,
his work done for the moment.

*    
*     *

Sharon
Vakhrusshev took a few moments to orient herself after she had run into the
tent.  There were people in the tent, two men, three women and a pair of
quivering children.  Boris and Estefan had grabbed the men, holding them
in place.

“We’re not here
to hurt you,” Sharon told the people while Chang came into the tent behind
her.  “We need to contact Colonel Gorbunov.  We understand he stays
in this area.”

“Why do you want
Pietrov?” asked one of the women.  “What has he done to you?”

“Nothing. 
It’s what he can do for us.  But I need you to tell me that you will not
breathe a word of this to anyone.  Especially the Cacas.”

“We’re not
collaborators,” said one of the men, struggling to throw Boris’ grasp from him
and failing against the much stronger man.  The man stopped struggling
after it was clear that he was not going to break free of the iron grip of the
agent.  “What good would it do to collaborate anyway?  Get us a
couple of more days of life in this rendition of hell.”

“I can’t tell
you much, but I need to talk with Pietrov.  It’s vital that I talk with
the man.  If you want to have any hope of getting out of here.”

“I can lead you
to him,” said the man Boris was holding.  “He’s only a couple of tents
over.”

“Then let’s
go.  You stay here, Estefan, and watch these citizens.”

Sharon felt
exposed as they walked out of the tent and down the path under the watchful
eyes of so many people.  It was getting close to curfew, when they would
be forced to get into a tent or be found out.  Many people had already
retreated to the tents, but there were always some diehards who had to push it
to the limit.

“Pietrov,” said
the man as they came to the entrance of a tent, tapping on the door-post. 
“I have some people who want to meet you.”

“Bring them in,”
said a voice from within, and Sharon ducked through the entrance to see a man
sitting on a cot looking at her with wary eyes.  He was the only adult in
the tent, which was otherwise occupied by children, fourteen of them, from a
toddler up to a few adolescents.

“Colonel
Gorbunov,” said Sharon, giving the man a short bow.  “I am Senior Agent
Sharon Vakhrusshev of the New Moscow Intelligence Directive.”

“I didn’t know
that New Moscow still existed, Senior Agent, much less that it still had an
Intelligence Directive.  And what can I do for the mighty Kingdom of New
Moscow?”

“You can help us
get ready for an event that will free our people from these monsters.”

“And how are you
going to accomplish this miracle?”

“Not just
me.  And I’ll tell you how we’re going to pull off this miracle.”

*     
*      *

KINGDOM OF NEW MOSCOW SPACE.

“Estimated time
to New Moscow system, one hundred and ninety-five hours, Admiral.”

Grand High
Admiral Gabriel
Len
Lenkowski nodded to the Fleet Navigation Officer as
he sat back in his chair, looking at the tactical holo that showed the entire
region of operations.  The New Terran Republic force was sweeping through
their area of operations, meeting little resistance, liberating systems that
had mostly been emptied of human life, keeping the attention of the Cacas in that
region focused on themselves.  There were two planets in that region that
still had humans, about seventy-five million of them total, also waiting their
turns for processing.  In ten hours the ground assault would go in, well
ahead of the fleet arrival, much like that planned for the systems in the
central region.

And hopefully
we will find that our assault doctrine is working as planned
, he thought,
looking at the overall sweep of the battlefield that was the Kingdom of New
Moscow. 
If not, I don’t know if we’ll have enough time to make
corrections.