Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 (22 page)

“We’re picking up
emissions from the hyper VII band,” said PO Jaworski, the sensor tech on duty
on the system picket ship HR-11987.  The ensign on duty, and the only other officer
on the ship beside the Commander, looked up from the book he was reading on his
flat comp.

“What do they look
like?” asked Ensign Kim in a bored voice as he looked up at the tactical plot
with showed some fuzzy contacts about two light years out.

“Hard to tell sir,”
said the tech, focusing on his panel’s graphical display.  “Their emission
lines don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.  No sound like I've ever heard. 
They have to be large energy emitters to be detectable from that far out.”

“Any idea of speed or
direction?” asked the ensign, clearing the book from his comp as he linked with
the ship’s computer, bringing up data on unusual emissions.

“Estimates are pretty
poor right now,” said Jaworski, playing with his instruments.  “We’re not a
damned battleship.  They carry more than our total mass of these kind of
sensors.”

Kim nodded as he
thought of any way of getting more information.  The picket was a very small
ship, operating a light week out from the hyper limit of Massadara.  She was
based on the same ten thousand ton hull as the courier and fast attack craft,
but packed electronics into the spaces those craft used for cargo or weapons.

“First guesstimate,”
said Jaworski, “is ten or more large objects moving at about point five c in
hyper VII.  Decelerating at about three hundred gravities, according to Doppler
readings.  Should arrive at translation point for Massadara in about six
hours.”

“Damned tight for a guesstimate,
PO,” said Kim, hitting the alarm.  Within seconds the rest of the crew of the
fourteen man vessel was out of bed, including the Commander.  She was the first
of the new awakes, running into the small bridge still pulling her shipboard
coveralls on.

“Report,” said
Lieutenant JG Martinez as she threw herself into her command chair.  The PO
tech rendered a quick summation of what he had found.

“This doesn’t look
good,” she said, watching the tactical display which now indicated two dozen of
the large
warships
, that’s what she thought they must be, heading for
the system.

“System outer buoys
should pick them up in a little under two hours,” said Jaworski, looking up
from his board.  “Ships in the inner system should get them about ten minutes
later.”

“And if we send our
data in?” asked Ensign Kim, chewing on his lip.

“They’ll get complete
data in about a week,” answered the Commander, chewing on one of her nails. 
“Whatever will happen will definitely have happened by then.”

“What if we go hyper
and run for the system?” asked Spaceman First Wittaker, taking her position at
the helm station.

“They’ll know where we
are and run us down,” said Kim.  “We can only do hyper V, and they can do hyper
VII.”

“Send a signal to the
system,” said the Commander to the just arriving com tech, Spaceman Second
Anderson.  “Give them the specifics by grav wave.”

The com tech looked at the
information scrolling across his board and frowned.

“It will take about
five minutes to send one cycle of that message,” he said.  “The bare facts. 
Number, speed, heading and ETA.”

“Damn,” cursed
Martinez.  FTL com had always been the dream of the navy.  The hyperdrive could
be used to pulse gravity waves, which since they also traveled in Hyper VIII
were almost instantaneous.  But they were also clunky, in that the information
had to be sent in a slow binary code that left a lot to be desired.  The wormhole
gates promised a workaround to the communication problem.  But the picket ship
did not have a wormhole on board, and was unlikely to be chosen for one in the
near future.

“OK,” she finally
said.  “Cycle what we have through four repetitions.”

“Then what?” asked Kim,
looking at her with wide eyes.

She could feel the
weight of the decision on her shoulders.  She would decide, and they would
either live or die with that decision.

“Then we run like hell
in normal space,” she answered.  “Away from the hostiles.  And we stop and play
rock at the first hint of a translation to n-space by our newly arrived
friends.  We are here to give warning to the system, which we are doing.  We
are not here to die for…”

“More contacts,” called
out Jaworski, as red dots appeared on the tactical display, much closer to the
picket ship.  “Estimate twenty or more ships, mass between destroyer and light
cruiser.  Speed point four c and decelerating at three hundred gravities. 
Estimating ETA at hyper boundary in four hours.”

“OK,” said the Captain. 
“Add that to the transmission on the next cycle through.  We’ll keep
transmitting as long as we can and then make our break for it.”

“A couple of the ships
are changing vector,” said Jaworski, looking back at the Captain.

“Estimated target of
the course change?” asked Lieutenant JG Martinez, feeling a knot in her
stomach.

“Us, ma’am,” answered
the sensor tech.  “Us.”

*     *     *

Klaxons went off all
through the
HIMS Archduchess Constance Leonardo
, the battleship that was
leading Task Group 4.9 of the Imperial Fourth Fleet.  Along with the alarms
notification was sent throughout the ship over the net to the implants of every
crew member.  Within moments everyone aboard the fifteen megaton flagship was
awake, if not completely alert.  Those off duty pulled on duty coveralls and
sealed boots at the cuffs.  Some waited for a moment, cursing the drill that
was being called on their off time.  Until the
this is not a drill
call
came through the alarm.

Admiral Sir Gunter
Heinrich pulled himself out of a deep sleep as the alarm went off.  His first
thought was a drill as well.  That notion was dismissed as he remembered that
he was the ranking officer in the system, and no drill would be scheduled
affecting his flagship without his knowledge and approval.  He sat up in bed
and sent a command through his implant for coffee, then swung feet to the floor
and stood up.  A quiet knock on his door got his attention.  His steward walked
in with a tray holding a cup of steaming coffee, white and sweetened, with a
carafe of refill.

“Thank you, Beria,”
said the Admiral, taking the cup from the tray and putting it gingerly to his
lips.  He felt better after a sip of hot liquid.

“Ready a duty uniform,
if you please, Beria,” he said to the steward.  “While I see what all of the
hoopla is about.”

The Admiral jacked into
the net and overrode the cacophony of requests and demands that were flooding
it.  His priority code took him directly to the flag bridge, where the duty
officer answered.

“Commander Nagaya here,
Admiral,” said the officer.

The Admiral could feel
the controlled fear in the man through the circuit.  But controlled was the
key.  He knew this was an officer who would do his duty no matter the threat.

“What the hell is going
on, Nagaya?” he asked, looking over the data himself in his mind’s eye.

“Sir,” said the
officer.  “A long range picket about a light week out picked up the gravity
waves of a force moving through hyper VII.  A large force, coming our way.”

“Did they identify the
force?”

“No sir.  The coded
transmission indicated that they were an unknown but probably highly advanced
threat.”

“Any further
information?”

“The transmission went
through two five minute cycles,” said the Commander.  “At about one minute into
the third cycle we picked up the gravity waves of two translations from hyper
VII to n-space by vessels between destroyer and light cruiser mass.  The
transmission ended at that point and contact has not been reestablished.”

Probably lost
, thought the Admiral with
a stab of regret as the steward brought in a duty coverall and a set of boots. 
Unless they were very good, or very lucky.

“OK,” said Heinrich,
letting the steward pull the coverall onto his body.  “Alert the staff that I
will be in the flag conference room in two minutes.  I want all known
information on the threat force as well as our own forces within the system. 
How is the system alert proceeding?”

“All personnel on
planetary surface or orbital stations are being recalled,” said the Commander. 
“Estimated that all ships will be ready to boost in an hour.  Ground forces are
also on alert.  System commander requests contact, and wishes to know your
intentions.”

“OK.  I’ll get on with
her and coordinate.  Heinrich out.”

The Admiral sat for a
moment to let the steward put his polished boots on.  He stood up in the
comfortable uniform, regretting the fact that he would probably be in combat
armor within a couple of hours.  He nodded at the steward, picked up his cup of
coffee, and walked from the bedroom through his large and ornately furnished
living area.

The Marine guard at the
entrance to his quarters snapped to attention with a rifle salute.  The Admiral
returned the salute and strode off down the corridor through the fifty meters
to the flag bridge and the conference room next to it.  Crewmen scrambled along
the corridor, checking that all systems were working or heading for duty
stations.

I won’t insult Captain
Steinman by asking her if she is prepared for combat
, thought the Admiral.  
It’s
her ship, and I’m just a guest on it.

Stopping outside the
conference room he linked with the system commander who was getting ready for
her own staff meeting on the one completed Class I fortress in orbit around the
planet.  Normally that officer would plan and order the defense of the system,
along with the dispositions of any warships currently around this star.  But
Heinrich was in command of a full task group, with four star rank, while the
system was a Vice Admiral with three stars.

“Vice Admiral
Gonzalez,” came the voice of the system commander over the link directly into
Heinrich’s auditory centers.  “I guess you have gotten the news.”

“Yes Countess,” said
Gunter, nodding to an officer heading into the conference room.  “We will be
preparing our plan of action as soon as I finish consulting with you.  Any
ideas on your part?”

There was a half second
delay as the signal was routed between the station on the other side of the
planet and the battleship.  Something which spacers were used to and
compensated for without thought.

“The outer buoys should
pick them up shortly,” said the system commander.  “I’m torn between engaging
them at maximum range with missiles, or taking them on in system where the
forts and orbitals can support your ships.”

“Awful long range for
missile engagement,” said the Admiral, figuring the envelope out in his head. 
There really was no such thing as a maximum range for a missile in practical
terms.  His capital ships could fire a one hundred ton missile with a crystal
matrix energy storage capable of accelerating the missile at five thousand
gravities for two hours.  That would get the missile up to about point nine six
c, the practical limit for travel within a system.  The missile could also
coast at that speed for as long as it needed to, and still have power to
randomly evade and correct its course as it got near the target.  The forts
carried an even larger missile at two hundred tons.  They needed the larger
missile to carry the more massive fusion warheads that were mandated for use in
weapons systems near inhabited planets.  Versus the MAM warheads the ships
carried.  The fort missiles could boost at five thousand gravities for three
hours, due to their onboard fusion reactors.  But at a range of light hours the
missiles would be depending on their intelligent but limited internal comp
systems.  Against someone who had not yet been proven to be an enemy, with
unknown capabilities.

“What about a manned
response,” said Heinrich.  “All of the fast attack in the system, your
fighters, and the fighters off of my capital ships.”  Each of the battleships
carried a full sixteen ship squadron of space fighters, while his battle
cruisers carried a half squadron, giving him.  “I can throw in five hundred and
seventy fighters, added on to your fighter strength.”

“That gives me seven
hundred and seventy,” said the Countess, “along with thirty six fast attack and
the non-hyper system ships.  What about your carriers?”

Heinrich had a fleet
carrier and two light carriers in the system along with his other ships. They
carried about six hundred and forty more of the fighters and attack craft.

“I’d prefer to hold
them in reserve,” he said, thinking it over.  “If these are hostiles that kind
of swarm might be enough to tilt the battle in our favor.  And I’d like to have
your forts ready to support us on call.”

“Very well,” said the Countess. 
“You’re in command.  So I will do my best to support you.”

“But you don’t fully
agree with my suggestions,” he said, hearing the worry in her transmission.