Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) (27 page)

“No excuses.  Just get it
done.  Move as if your life depends on it, because it does.”

Lucille severed the
connection, then started to run some more simulations, looking at all the
variables, trying to work the timing through to perfection.  It was an
impossible task, since those variables kept changing from moment to moment.

“Can you do it?” asked
Jimmy, standing at her shoulder and looking at the graphics of the event she
was planning.

“Oh, I can do it.  The
question is, will I do it at the right moment?”

Jimmy went silent with
that, something that Lucille was grateful for.  She kept playing with the
simulation, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to come up with the final
solution until the moment arrived.   But she couldn’t help herself.  She had to
do something with the time, and she couldn’t think of anything else to catch
her attention.  The station floor shook again under her feet, the slight tremor
indicating its distance.  At that she went ahead and set up a program to do the
best it could at the last moment, probably better than she could do, though it
wouldn’t have her intuition to guide it.

“Just let us hang in
there,” she whispered in prayer.  She wasn’t sure what she was praying to, and
really didn’t think there was anything there to listen to her.  But it couldn’t
hurt.

*     *      *

“Just get the damned
thing aboard,” yelled the Commander, pointing to the large missile that sat in
the middle of the chamber.

Some of the ratings had
been complaining over what seemed to them to be a crazy idea.  He agreed it was
crazy, but crazy might be what they needed.  Two ratings lifted the heavy
sealed box with antigrav grapples, then moved it into the open nose of the
missile, where the warhead would normally sit.  It joined another ten of the
containers already there.  There was probably room for two more of the
containers.  Another missile lay on its side twenty meters away, naval
personnel loading it as well.

This had been an order
passed down from on high.  No one knew where it had come from, but it had
carried the authority of the Station Commander, so it had been implemented with
urgency.  Every crated wormhole, those which had yet to be shipped from the
station, were being put into capital ship missiles, the type that were put in
the wormhole acceleration tubes for combat launches.  All would be launched as
soon as they were loaded, on upward courses away from the battle, at twenty
thousand gravities accelerations.  Hopefully they would get away moving at such
high acceleration and on evasive maneuvers that they would escape, and could be
recovered later.  That would save a couple of hundred wormholes, which could be
recovered later, just in case the station was destroyed.

Other wormholes, some of
those already installed in the station, were being pulled from the hull and
being put in survival containers that were made to eject from the station if a
disaster occurred.  That might save a hundred more.  Not much, but better than
a total loss.

Only we won’t be here to
see if they survive
,
thought the sweating Commander.  Because they surely wouldn’t.

*     *     *

The massive ship shook
from the burst of plasma from a near miss striking the hull.  The High Admiral
grimaced once again.  He had known this was a suicide mission, the best case
being to survive the attack on the station so they could fight a couple of more
battles in these human core systems before ending.  Now, with the fire coming
at them from the station, the wave of missiles coming up from behind, and the
impossible fighters and their overstrength missiles popping up at unpredictable
intervals, he wasn’t sure they would even be able to accomplish the first goal.

“That is one tough
bitch,” said the Tactical Officer as a series of pinpoint bursts flared over
the ribbon ahead.  Five were larger than the others, quarkium warheads made
specially to take out large hard targets.

The High Admiral wasn’t
so sure that the station was that tough.  It was just unbelievably huge, which
had a toughness of its own.  Even the quarkium warheads were only pinpricks to
its mass.  If three could hit perfectly, severing all the support cables within
ten kilometers along the circumference, they might be able to destroy it.  The
odds of that happening with millions of kilometers of swiftly rotating ring
were as near to impossible as any mathematician could ask for.

“The wave of missiles
coming up from the station are curving their trajectories,” said the Tactical
Officer, his eyes darting back to the holo screens hanging above his station. 
“They all seem to be tracking on the freighter.”

The High Admiral
grunted.  Normally, in the case of a massed enemy, weapons were sent in the
direction of a force, group targeting.  Each missile targeted on the best
object of opportunity, as targets dropped off the plot, missiles retasked to
other targets.  Or they could all be set to go after a particular target, like
a flagship, which ran the risk of massive overkill.  Missiles were not an
unlimited resource in a battle.

“It’s like they know what
we’re trying to do, my Lord,” said the Chief of Staff.

“Of course they do,” said
the High Admiral, giving a head motion of agreement.  He looked over at the Com
Officer as he punched in his dispositions at his own station to be
transmitted.  “Make sure the force gets these orders.  We will do everything we
can to protect the bomb ship.  It is the reason we are here.”

“What about the missiles
coming from behind?” asked the Tactical Officer as the battleships started to
change their positions in relation to the freighter.  Most moved to directly in
front of the ship they were to protect, while a few closed in tight to the
side.  Two ships stayed in the rear, ready to take on anything that might pop
up unexpectedly from that direction.

“When we have dealt with
this wave, we will reconfigure to cover the rear.  Maintain the variations of
vector to throw off their beam weapons.”  He looked the Tactical Officer
straight in the eyes, making sure he had the male’s attention.  “When we get
closer we will worry about our deployment to deal with their close in attacks.”

And we will all be within
range of the blast when the bomb ship goes off
, he thought, making
another head motion, this one of disbelief.  Unfortunately, whether he believed
it or not, it was going to happen.  It was the result of the only ending that
would be the result of a successful attack.

Chapter Twenty

Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he
believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and
without reservation that he is in error. Andrew Jackson

Me Lei swore as she
looked at the feed coming from the closest ship of the gate guardian squadron. 
Hers was the first ship through, the rest of her task group following.  The
ship she was getting the feed from was less than five thousand kilometers away,
meaning the information, which was coming through that ship’s wormhole com
system, was as instantaneous as possible.

“Why can’t they stop them
from getting next to the station,” cried the Helm.

Because we never saw the
possibility of this happening,
thought the Admiral.  The only two possibilities
of an attack were from something coming in from out of the system, which would
be seen before it got within any possible engagement range.  Or it could come
through one of the wormhole gates, just about impossible with the gate
squadrons on guard.

No one had thought that
the Cacas might be able to insert a wormhole equipped Q-ship into the system
surreptitiously, then bring missiles and warships through that gate.  It had
caught everyone off guard, and if not for the alertness of some ship captain
who was paying attention it would have closed with the station before someone
had noticed that some inconsequential tramp freighter was even there.

“I’m getting some chatter
over the command circuit, ma’am,” called out the Com Officer.   “They’re
talking about the possibility of the enemy using a wormhole bomb on the
station.”

“What the hell is a
wormhole bomb,” said the Tactical Officer, turning his confused face toward his
Admiral.

Something above your need
to know
,
thought the Admiral.  Of course the information had been disseminated among the
Admiralty and any commander group level or above.  And the scientists who
needed to work out the theory of how to use such a weapon in the future. 
If
they set off something like that next to the station, we’re going to lose it.

“Is there anything we can
do to get there before them?” asked Mei, feeling stupid as she asked the
question.  Of course there wasn’t, or there would already be a mass of warships
there, boosting toward the enemy with no concern for their own survival,
knowing that if such a device went off and they were within a hundred thousand
kilometers of it, their destruction was assured.

“No, ma’am,” said the
Helm.  “All we can do now is sit and watch.  Though we could vector to a course
where we might be able to intercept any Caca ships trying to leave the system
in the direction of the nearest Supersystem world.”

“You think that is where
they will be heading?” she asked the Tactical Officer.

“If any survive?  That’s
where I would head.  They might be able to get there and smash up some more of
our assets.  We should be able to get to the barrier before they do.”

And face how many of
their larger more, powerful ships?
thought the Admiral, dismissing the worry as
soon as it came.  No matter the cost, they needed to take out any ships before
they could get away.  If they set off a wormhole bomb next to the station, they
would also be taking out their last means of instantaneous communications with
their command.  And then the Empire couldn’t afford to let any of their ships
get away to bring news back to their command that the
Donut
no longer
existed.

“Everyone in the tanks. 
I want to make sure we’re there to greet them.   Send the order to the rest of
the squadron, then inform the gate squadron commander of my intentions.”

The chorus of
acknowledgements came back as the tanks rose from the deck.  Within minutes the
task group, eight battlecruisers, thirteen light cruisers and eighteen
destroyers, were on the way, their crews within the acceleration tanks,
boosting at thirty gravities above their maximum safe rate.  If everything
worked out as planned, they would be there hours before the enemy reached the
barrier, maybe a couple of light hours in.  That wouldn’t bring back the
Donut,
but it would insure that word of its destruction never reached the Caca
high command, and they would remain in doubt.

Unless they have too many
ships remaining for me to handle,
thought the Admiral. 
And I’ll still take
them out, even if I have to sacrifice every ship in my command.

*     *     *

“We think they’re trying
to destroy the station with a wormhole bomb,” said McCullom, looking into the
face of her monarch through the wormhole com.

“Christ,” cursed Sean,
wondering how much more he could take this day. 
As much as I need to
,
he thought, straightening his back.  But it was all too much.  Until this day
they didn’t even know that the Cacas had wormhole technology.  Now they not
only knew that their enemy had the secret to the Empire’s greatest tech, they
had also hurt the Empire severely with that technology.  And they had hurt him
personally.  The revelation that the enemy was capable of using a wormhole bomb
had come with the capture of the first ship in the Jewel/New Terra dual
system.  And now the second enemy and its escorts were closing with the station
on what could only be a close in attack.

“Can we stop them?”

“We’re trying, your
majesty.  But we never expected this kind of an attack.  We never saw them
coming through wormholes into space so close to the station, already inside the
reach of our system force.”

“We should have had a
larger force stationed next to the station,” said Sean, feeling his temper
rise, squashing it, knowing that it would do no good to throw recriminations
into the face of his CNO.

“We should have, your
majesty.  And it’s my fault we didn’t.  You can have my resignation, if it
pleases you.”

“We don’t have time for
this,” shouted Sean.  “I need you to get your people together and figure out
what we’re going to do if we lose the station.”

“Lose the war,” she said
in a quiet voice.

“Unacceptable.  I do not
intend to be the last Emperor.  Station or not, we will find a way to win. 
We’re smarter than the Cacas.  We can outthink them.” 
Though it doesn’t
seem like it at this time.
  “And do whatever you can to save that station,
so we don’t have to fall back on a contingency plan we never imagined we would
have to use.”

“Your Majesty,” called
out an excited staff officer manning one of the analysis stations.  “We’re
getting reports from Admiral Lenkowski’s force.  They have the Cacas on the run
in their sector.”

“Tell Len to be careful. 
We’ve had enough surprises for today.”

“We getting the take on
that battle ourselves right now, your Majesty,” said McCullom.  “Our analysts
are looking it over at this time.  We’ll get back to Admiral Lenkowski as soon
as we have something.”

Sean looked quickly at
the tactical plot.  There was still that worrying red arrow heading toward new
Moscow.  He didn’t have enough ships in its way to stop it, and New Moscow
didn’t have enough in system to stop them when they got there.

“Get to it, Admiral,”
said Sean, dismissing his CNO, turning away from the plot staring at the blank
air where the com holo had been moments before.  He turned and paced the deck. 
They still had a battle to win.  If they could fight the Cacas to a standstill
today, they could still buy some time.  Time to get more ships out of the
building slips and prepare for the next wave.  Less ships than they would have
had before the Cacas hit Central Docks, but probably more that the Cacas had
thought they had.  Central Docks was important, but still less than twenty
percent of the Empire’s ship building capacity currently resided in the
Supersystem, of which the Docks were less than eight parts of that twenty.  And
Central Docks, while ravaged, had not been destroyed.  The greater loss would
have been the capital planet, and from all reports, though decimated, Capitulum
was still there.

“We’re going into action,
your Majesty,” came the call of the ship’s captain over the com.

“Acknowledged,” said
Sean, switching his view to the super heavy battleship’s tactical.

Her group, seven of her
class, along with a hundred standard battleships and over four hundred escorts,
was maneuvering on the flank of the Caca force, over a thousand ships.  All
were launching missiles, putting them into space at distance.  At first look it
appeared that they were heavily unnumbered, a losing proposition.  A closer
look showed the three other forces closing in on the enemy.  They were trapped,
well and good, and the chances that any of the Caca ships would get back to the
hyper barrier were slim at best.  If they had a wormhole com the rest of the Cacas
would get word of their defeat.  Sean was banking on them not even having
that.  The Cacas couldn’t have that many of the things, not enough to have
equipped every one of their forces.  Or at least that was what he was counting
on.

*     *     *

“My Lord.  You need to
see this.”

“What is it?” asked the
High Admiral, walking to the tactical station.

“We have sixteen objects
on approach from thirty degrees to port.  They don’t seem to be accelerating,
but their graviton emissions are similar to large warships.  And they’re
radiating a considerable amount of heat.”

The High Admiral stared
at the plot.  He had served in the Ca’cadasan fleet for over two thousand
years, and he had never seen anything like this.  But whatever they were, they
were coming for his fleet.

“What do the other
sensors show?”

“Nothing, my Lord.  They
don’t appear on radar or lidar, despite their proximity.”

While not impossible, the
human stealth ships showed as much, it was also highly unlikely that something
radiating so much heat would also be employing that kind of a sensor masking
field or hull.

“Estimated time of
contact, one minute, thirty-four seconds,” said the Tactical Officer.

“Open fire on them.  I
don’t care what they are, I want them blown out of space.”

The ships started cycling
counter missiles at the incoming objects, while lasers lanced out to strike the
things.   And all seemed to have no effect on the objects, not even changing
their vectors in the least.

“Hit them with
shipkillers,” shouted the Admiral.  “Prepare for evasive maneuvers.”  He wasn’t
sure what evasives would do at this point.  If these were some new kind of
impossible warship they would be among his force in less than a minute, and
there would be no way to dodge their beam weapons, or whatever else they
carried.

The capital ship missiles
sped out, to die in blazes of glory near to the objects.  Some of the blazes
seemed to be somewhat diminished, another anomaly that they couldn’t begin to
understand.  And still all sixteen objects came on, a few on slightly altered
vectors, but not what would be expected from non-accelerating ships hit by a
gigaton of explosive power.

“Prepare for impact,”
yelled out the High Admiral as the objects closed the last million kilometers. 
Ships maneuvered frantically, trying to put as much distance between themselves
and objects of unknown capabilities.  One ship barely made it out of the way,
and the object passed within a hundred meters of the hull.  Alloy warped, skin
bubbled from the heat, and then the object was past, and the ship was left with
minimal damage.

Another ship was not so
lucky, and the object hit it and passed through as if the tough vessel was no
more than vacuum.  It passed in an instant, eating a thirty centimeter hole of
absorbed matter, warping materials twenty meters further on either side.  The
ship would have survived the strike, if not for the path that went through the
ready store of antimatter and breached it into the engineering compartment. 
The ship went up in a flash, antimatter breaching more antimatter, until the
ship was gone.  And the object that had caused the breach continued on, no
worse for wear, a hundred thousand tons more massive.

The High Admiral stared
at the plot, cursing under his breath.  It could have been worse, but losing
any ship to whatever the things were was bad enough.

“Not a very effective
weapon, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer.  “Despite their destructive
power.”

The High Admiral had to
agree with that assessment as he watched the heat sources continuing outward. 
They seemed to have no guidance system, or any means of changing their vector. 
Their only advantages seemed to be invulnerability, and the ability to sneak up
on their targets.

“Keep a look out for more
heat sources,” he told his Tactical Officer.  “And make sure that those that
have already passed don’t come up without notice.  On your life.”

The Tactical Officer gave
a head motion of acknowledgement while gulping, his eyes wide.  The officer
knew that if any other of the ships were destroyed he would quickly follow
their crews into death.

*     *     *