Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) (32 page)

She was sure dreams would
come reliving this day.  That part she dreaded, but at least she would not have
to think about them during her sleep, only react.

Chapter Twenty-three

A sincere diplomat is like dry water or wooden
iron. Joseph Stalin

D-2

“This is the moment,”
said Thomas Sparkmen, the man Kenji Guatarrez knew as the Interrogator.

“Are you sure?” asked
Achieng Okoye, the woman the scientist thought of as the Disapprover.   They
were all following the newscast that was reporting the death of Prince
Augustine Ogden Lee Romanov, the heir to the Empire.  “What do you think,
Nick?”

Nick Stumpfield, the
leader of the group, stared at the cast for a moment longer.  “We need to look
at the incident ourselves, to see if the Prince survived the crash.”  He
gestured to the one tech in the room, who worked the holographic gear.  A
moment later the view changed to a shot of the Empress’ aircar convoy as it
fled the city.

“How are you getting this
vid?” asked Guatarrez, leaning forward in his seat.  He was still the unwilling
guest of this organization, which was more powerful than he had at first
thought, but he was a comfortable prisoner.  Especially since he had proven his
theory of dimensional time travel to them.

“We have our sources,”
said Nick with a smile.

Guatarrez nodded.  He had
seen that these people could get pretty much whatever they needed.   He wasn’t
sure who Nick Stumpfield was, but he had heard some of the lower ranking people
in the organization call him lord.  Nick hadn’t liked that, and had been quick
to let them know not to use that title in public.

The vid showed the
aircars starting to juke and dodge, then one of them was hit by the angry red
of a particle beam, slicing into the power plant of the car with a splash of
alloy.  The car immediately lost power and fell from the sky trailing smoke.

“Was that it?” asked
Okoye, pointing to the vid.

“I think not,” said
Sparkmen.  “That was one of the perimeter cars.”

The view switched to
another of the cars, this one near the center.  Again, a bright beam came down,
missing.  The second beam didn’t miss, and the back of the car exploded
outward, then it started to fall.  Fifty meters into the fall it exploded, and
several objects were ejected from the ball of fire.”

“Zoom in on that one and
slow the vid,” ordered Stumpfield.

The Tech did as he was
told, and the view zoomed in as it slowed to a crawl, centering on a globe that
was falling toward the ground.  The outside of the globe had some scorch marks
on it, but the damage appeared superficial.  The globe continued to fall,
taking a minute to drop a hundred meters in the view, then slowing to a near
stop.

“That’s an escape pod,”
said Okoye.  “And from the size, it was made for a child.”

“And it fell under power,
and pretty much intact,” said Sparkmen.

“Which is still no
guarantee that it contained the Prince,” said Okoye.  “Or that he made it out
alive.”

“It would be smart money
to bet on both,” said Stumpfield.  “After all, the reports of what they found
do not seem to make sense.  Anything that took a hit that could totally destroy
the body of the passenger would not look like that falling from the aircar.  It
would have a damned big hole in it.”

“Haven’t the authorities
seen this vid?” asked Guatarrez.  “Wouldn’t they know the Prince was still
intact, and that what they found didn’t make sense?”

“They never saw this,”
said Stumpfield, looking over a replay of the vid.  “Our operative that got it
out made sure there were no copies left behind.”

The leader looked up and
over at Guatarrez.  “So, can you get a wormhole to that time?  First I would
like to see the Prince alive before we send people back.”

“If we start right now,
we can probably get one to that point in time in a week our time.”

“And I don’t think we can
get the transfer ship insystem in that time, Nick,” said Sparkmen, who seemed
to be in charge of those assets.  “This system will be on lockdown, and we will
have to tread softly.”

Nick looked off for a
moment, then nodded.  Even though the dimensional transfer craft was very small
and very stealthy, it would not do to have it picked up on sensors and
intercepted.  There would be all kinds of questions this organization wouldn’t
want to answer.  “We will wait a week, so let’s say two weeks.  But go ahead
and send the signal to the operations team.  Let’s get the asset started on its
trip.”

So, in two weeks they
will be able to see if the Prince is on that escape pod.  And then?

“I hate using so many
wormholes for this one project,” said Sparkmen.  “We could only get our hands
on so many, and I doubt we will be able to get more in the future.”

“We can retask the one we
send back for a look,” said Guatarrez, wondering a moment later why he did. 
After all, he still wasn’t sure what the ultimate plan of these people was, and
if he approved of that plan.  But first and foremost he was a scientist, and
curiosity ruled him.  He desperately wanted to see if his theories would test
true.

“What do you mean?” asked
Stumpfield, staring straight into the scientist’s eyes.

“After viewing the
Prince, we can put the carrying vehicle back into the backwards dimension, then
allow it to go back again, to the time before the time we viewed the heir in.”

“And the time frame?”

“We get it back out to
the point in space where it can jump back into the backwards dimension, then
bring it back in while it advances forward again.  Say, a month, while we
advance another three weeks.  So when we go back to retrieve the Prince, it is
five weeks from now.”

“That sounds good,” said
Stumpfield with a smile.  “Good time frame as well.  I really don’t want to
approach their Majesties for another three months anyway.  Let them deal with
their loss, build their anger, and then we offer them the hope that their son
and heir is still alive.”

“Won’t he then be the
younger of the two brothers, by over five weeks?” asked Okoye, a confused
expression on her face.

“He is still the first
born,” said Stumpfield with a smile.  “I don’t think anything is said about
biological age in the laws of succession.”

*     *     *

“We have been picking up
additional ripples in the time stream, Commander,” said the alien who slid
soundless across the floor.  “Small at the moment, only involving a single
life, maybe a few more.  But we are afraid the ripples will grow from this
point.”

Xavier Jackson stared at
the Ancient, one of the few remaining of the race that used to rule this region
of space.  He had been their guest for several years now, since they had
rescued him from the deep space he had found himself drifting in after a
catastrophic translation from hyper.  It had looked hopeless.  There was no way
he could have been found by his own people, but the aliens had much better tech
than his people.  He had been hearing the refrain for over a year now, that his
Empire was a threat to the time stream with their use of wormholes.

“The enemy is also using
wormholes,” said Jackson, looking into one of the multiple eyes of the
Ancient.  “You’ve told me so yourself.”

“That is also the fault
of your species,” accused the Ancient.  Its expression was impossible to read,
since it didn’t possess what Jackson would consider a face.  The motion of its
six tentacles were the way in which it expressed its emotions, and Jackson had
learned how to read those.  The creature was agitated, nervous, angry.

“Blaming all the ills of
the Universe on us,” said Jackson with a smile.  “I didn’t think we were so
powerful.”

“Once you built that
wormhole generating station, you assumed that power.  Only you don’t have the
wisdom to handle it.”

“Like your people?” asked
Jackson, taking a seat and reaching for a drink decanter.  “Didn’t you tell me
about your own experiments, and how they resulted in so much death and
destruction.”

The alien stared at him
for a moment, and Jackson wondered if maybe he had said too much.  The Ancients
were not a cruel people.  In fact, they were quite the opposite.  But he had
seldom seen one so agitated.

“Maybe no species has
that wisdom,” said Klorasof, turning away in a circle on his locomotion cilia. 
It sat there for a moment as Jackson poured himself a drink, then spun back
around in a motion that almost blurred his form.  “That is why we must stop
species from playing with the time line.  And I know what you will say.  The
use of wormholes does not have to lead to playing with the time line.  But that
is what seems to happen, over and over again.  If you continue to press your
enemies, they too will be tempted to mess with time.  And so it must stop,
now.”

“What do you intend to
do?”

“We will have a gathering
of my people.  All will come to this place.”

“And then you will launch
all of your ships on an attack on the station?”

“No, Xavier Jackson.  We
will send one ship.  We do not have the energy reserves to bring a fleet into
battle.  We will pool our resources so that our most capable vessel will be
able to fight at full efficiency.”

“Perhaps you could
approach us in peace, and ask for the power of the station to recharge your
energy cells,” suggested Jackson.  Klorasof had told him once about how they
had used their black hole station to power the baby universes they used for
energy, and how they could no longer charge them without that station.

“You would have made a
good diplomat, Xavier Jackson,” said the Ancient.  “And that is why you will be
going with us.  So that you may talk your people into evacuating the station
before we destroy it.  And then you can go home.”

“Home?”

“Of course.  We are not a
cruel people.  And once your people know that we are still here, there will be
no need to continue your captivity.”

Except you will send me
back to my people after you have taken away our means of winning a war we must
win,
thought Jackson, keeping his face expressionless.  He continued to look at the
alien, who had all of its eyes focused on him, waiting. 
Unless I find a way
to stop you.

*     *     *

“Admiral McCullom,” said
the Com Officer, looking up from his station.  “We have a transit request from
both Elysium and the Crakista.”

“What are they asking to
do?” asked Sondra, sitting up from the position she had been in on her chair,
near to falling asleep from the exhaustion.

“They are requesting
transit to the black hole system.”

“I think they’re a little
late to help out there,” there McCullom with a scowl.  “Maybe if they had come
back a couple of days ago.”

The Com Officer started
talking into his system, his voice too subdued for the Grand High Admiral to
follow.

“They’re both requesting
further transit authority to the front,” said the excited
Com Officer.

“How many of them?” said
McCullom, coming to her feet and running to the officer’s station.

“It sounds like all of
them.  Their entire fleets.”

“Damn.  Send them all the
permission they need.  Then get through to every gate along their path.  I want
all other traffic stopped when they’re ready to transit.”  McCullom could feel
the smile stretching her face. 
They’ll probably still want something in
return.  But if they’re coming into the battle, I don’t care what they ask for.

“And get me the Emperor
on the com.”

*     *      *

“Are you sure, Sondra?”
asked the Emperor, glancing back at the plot that showed how the battle was
going.  They were winning every fight, except the one they were yet to be
involved in.  The largest enemy force was still on the way to New Moscow, not
more than a day away.  And he didn’t have enough there to stop them.  And if
they had a wormhole aboard?  Then their fleet would grow in the system while
they challenged him to come and get them.

“They’re pumping ships
through the gates as fast as we can take them, your Majesty.  One very fifteen
seconds.  We’re routing them toward the front in the most efficient way
possible.  I have a good portion of my staff planning their transits, and they
are accepting our directions.”

Sean looked back at the
plot, at the one system that was vital to his plans out here, and the one that
was in the most danger.  And he knew where those ships needed to be.

*     *     *

The High Admiral cursed
under his breath as he watched the impossible fighters appear once again on the
plot. 
If only we had some of the new detection devices aboard
, he
thought.  Unfortunately, they were still a new development, and they were not
an easy install.  It took a complete refit of the sensor system to work
properly at any range.  And since this had been for all intents and purposes a
suicide mission, it had been decided that it was not worthwhile to put these
ships through that refit.

Not my decision
, thought the High
Admiral as a couple of the fighters flew close to his ship, hitting it with
lasers.  The lasers on a fifteen hundred ton fighter could not do much to a
twenty-five million ton warship.  He doubted they were even piercing the
armor.  They were no more than a nuisance, but they were keeping his crews on
alert, since he couldn’t afford to take a chance that the next attack would
have missiles aboard.