Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2 (23 page)

“I’m charged with
protecting this planet,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.  “Of course I
would like to see any threat to it taken care of well away from the planet. 
Missiles hitting the planet with gigaton warheads traveling at point nine c do
not do much good for the ecosystem.”

“And I’m charged with
protecting the territory of the Empire, including the vessels under my command
and the personnel manning them,” answered the Admiral.  “I’m going to do my
best to keep the planet from being mauled by hypervelocity missiles.  But I have
to use all of the assets available to me, and that includes the planetary and
orbital defenses.  Now I’ll get a release of the fighters and have their group
commanders’ report to your command net.  Heinrich out.”

The Admiral walked into
the conference room as he pulled out of the link with the other Admiral.  Men
and women were gathered around the table, engaged in low conversation or
sitting quietly as they linked into the net.  An Intelligence Commander looked
up as the Admiral entered the room and yelled for attention.

“Take your seats,
ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he plopped into his own chair at the head of
the table.  “Any update on the threat?”

“No sir,” said the
intelligence officer, her Asian face reflecting the worry of someone who dealt
in information and had little of it.  “We only know that there are a lot of
them, and they are on their way.”

“OK,” said the Admiral,
leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee.  “Let’s move the
whole group out to ten light minutes from the planet, in the direction of our
friends.  After we get everybody out there we can put the group into
formation.  Just what do we have in system, by the way?”  He asked the last
already looking at the ship figures on the net, but knowing that there might be
errors or changes that a staff member might be able to correct.

“Current strength in
the system,” said Captain Myra Lamborgini, the Flag Captain, “is eighteen
battleships, six battle cruisers, twenty heavy cruisers, sixteen light cruisers
and fifty four destroyers.  There is a fleet carrier and two light carriers in
system, and four couriers.  We also have a trio of system defense cruisers and
eight system defense destroyers.”

The Admiral ran the
figures through his head and grunted.  He knew he had another twelve
battleships and ten battle cruisers on patrol.  And most of his light cruisers,
the eyes of the fleet, would also be on out system patrol.  He wondered if any
of them had run afoul of this threat.

“There are also the
fighters on board the warships and the carriers,” continued the Flag Captain.

“I’ve released the
ship’s fighters to system command,” said Admiral Heinrich, looking at his Flag Captain
as that officer grimaced.  “She will also keep control of the in system
warships and the forts, though she’ll coordinate their fire with ours when it
comes to it.  We’ll keep the carrier birds for our own planning.”

“Why give her our
fighters, sir?” said Commander Kelvin Hanson, the flight operations liaison. 
“That’s about half of our fighter strength.”

“Vice Admiral Gonzalez
wants to meet them as far out in the system as possible,” said the Admiral. 
“To ascertain their intentions and capabilities.  I understand her concerns, so
I released enough of our fighters to give her some punch if needed.” 
And
they’ll all be operational
, he thought,
or
at least as much of
all of them as will matter
.  He remembered in his classes back at the
academy how in the distant past, mostly on old earth, when a commander could
count himself lucky to have eighty percent of his equipment functional when
going into combat.  And a lot of that was from wear and tear as they called it
then.  He knew that all of his equipment, fighters included, were maintained in
top shape by the nanites incorporated into their systems.  The same microbugs
that updated electronics as necessary.

“Any reinforcements
expected?” he said, looking back at his Flag Captain.  “Anyone due back from
patrol?”

“There might be a
couple of cruiser teams coming in at any moment,” said the Flag Captain,
pulling out a cigarette and puffing it into ignition.  “But nothing expected on
the horizon.”

“There’s a convoy
expected in today,” said Commander Sylvester Lafayette, the logistics liaison. 
“A Hyper VII battlecruiser, a light cruiser, five destroyers and nine
auxiliaries.”

“Right in the middle of
the fracas,” said the Flag Captain, frowning.  “I don’t think those warships
are going to do us enough good to warrant the cost of those other ships.  They
have a couple of brigades of troops and about five thousand naval support
personnel.”

“Can we warn them off?”
said the Admiral.  “Where in the system will they come in?”

“Plane of the
ecliptic,” answered Lafayette.  “About thirty degrees spinward from the
hostiles.”

“We might be able to
find them with a courier,” said Captain Lamborgini.  “Warn them to stay in
hyper and get out of here.”

The Admiral thought
about it for a moment, then shook his head.

“I don’t have enough
couriers,” he finally said.  “I want two of them sent immediately to Sector
HQ.  One of them must get through, in case the hostiles have curtained the
system without us knowing it.  I want the other two on the far side of the
system, ready to translate with the news of our demise, if it comes to that. 
The convoy will just have to take its chances.  Hopefully they’ll follow SOP
and translate an escort in first to check out the system.  And they’re probably
already in detection range by the unknowns.

“Let’s get a plan
together, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing.  “We’ll meet again when the
group gets to the assembly point.  Hopefully we’ll have more information at
that time.  Dismissed.”

The staff left their
seats and hurried from the conference room, eager to get to their duty stations
and do their part to ensure the survival of the human force.  The Admiral knew
that part of that eagerness was fear, and the desire to busy themselves to
defuse that fear.

Of an enemy we refuse
to name
,
he thought, feeling his own fear bubble up inside of him. 
It has to be
them.  They finally came.  Just like his Majesty said they would.

“If I can talk with you
for a moment, sir,” said the Flag Captain, stepping up to him.

“What is it, Myra?” he
asked, picking up his coffee cup and thinking about breakfast.  “Is it those
fighters I gave the system commander?”

“No sir,” she said,
fidgeting.  “That’s your command decision, and one I don’t have a problem
with.  No sir.  It’s a little stickier problem.”

“Well out with it Captain,”
he said, looking into her eyes.  “Before we die of old age, or those unknowns
fry our guts.”

“It’s the Prince, sir,”
said the Captain in a hushed voiced, looking around to make sure no one was
eavesdropping.  “What are you going to do about him?”

“What would you like me
to do with him, Captain?  He’s a serving fleet officer.  I can’t order him off
of his ship just because there’s a possibility that he might die in combat.  He
could refuse that order and be well within his rights.  And even if I did have
him dragged kicking and screaming from
Sergiov
, he could have my head. 
And it’s not like he is likely to become Emperor anytime in the future.  He’s
has two older siblings for God’s sake.”

“It would still not be
a good thing to have a member of the Imperial Family die under your command
sir,” said the Captain forcefully.

“Then I have to be sure
I win the battle,” he replied.  “With minimal loss to our forces.”

“Oh come on, Admiral,”
said the Captain, looking into his eyes.

He could see the fear
in her as well.  He could also see the control of that fear.

“You know as well as I
do who those people are who are coming at us.  The last time we fought them
they destroyed our civilization and sent the remnants of our race out into the
dark.”

“We’re a lot stronger
now than we were then,” he said with determination in his voice.  “And a lot
more advanced.”

“And what are you going
to do with the Prince?”

“What do you suggest?”
he said in a low voice.  “I can’t remove that ship from my order of battle.  I
need everything I can lay my hands on.”

“Then put him under
arrest and have him removed from his ship,” she said, putting her hands on her
hips and glaring up at the Admiral.  “Put him on the first courier you send
out.  Then he’ll at least have a chance of getting home.”

“I don’t have any
charges to bring him up on,” said the Admiral.  “It would be an insult to his
family name.  Something he would regret for the rest of his life.  So do you
have something else to suggest.”

“At least put his ship
in the second echelon,” she said, looking down to the floor.  “Then he will at
least have a chance to survive if everything goes to shit.”

“I can do that,” he
said, nodding his head.  “But I’m not sure he would be happy that I did that.”

“He doesn’t have to
know,” said the Captain.  “Some ships have to go there if you use any formation
I would think you would.  At least six battleships.”

“OK, Captain,” he
agreed, nodding his head.  “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to us not surviving
the battle.”

“And where will you
place our ship, sir?”

“Where do you think, Captain,”
he said with a sigh.  “Right in the center of the action.  In the finest
tradition of Nelson.”

*     *     *

It had been the middle
of the night in the city of Port Massadara, the capital and largest city on the
planet.  There were over a million people living in the city, whose population
had skyrocketed since it became known that the system was becoming a regional
military base system.  That meant that the five hundred thousand permanent
residents had been joined by another half million transients who had been
housed as best as could be until permanent residences could be built, or they
could be transferred out to the farms or villages they had contracted for.  It
also meant that there weren’t enough shelters available for all of those
people.

Major General McKenzie
Zhukov was one of those people roused from a dead sleep.  In his case it was
more of a personal awakening by staff, not by sirens or emergency messages over
the net.  But the confusion was just as great.

“So what the hell do we
know?” he asked a staff officer on the way to the control center ten kilometers
beneath the military headquarters building.  The walls reminded him of a
warship’s, which was apt since the shelter was the same central capsule used by
Imperial destroyers.

“Not much, sir,” said
the young Lt. Colonel who was the watch officer tonight.  “Just that a large
number of unknowns translated into the system and are on a heading for the
planet.”

“Have we received any
intel from the Countess or her staff?”

“Very little, sir,”
said the Colonel, walking fast to keep up with the General.  “Her liaison
officer will be here shortly, but I’ve come to the opinion that they are still
trying to sort things out themselves.”

“Reasonable,” said the
system Army commander.  “And I would guess we have some hours before they are a
threat to the planet.”

“Probably at least ten
hours till a possible missile strike,” said the younger officer.  “Closer to
twenty four before we could see a possible ground assault.”

“And the ten hour
window really doesn’t matter all that much,” said the General to the nod of the
Colonel.  
If they hit us with relativistic missiles there won’t be a living
planet to land on.  Even one and all the buildings are coming down, and all the
close surface shelters are cave ins.

The door to the
conference room slid open as they approached, the two military policemen waving
them in.  The room was already half full.  Zhukov ran a tight command, and most
officers tried to beat him to wherever he was going, if they knew what was good
for them.

Attention,” yelled the
planetary Command Sergeant Major, Sid Willis, his dark face reflecting the
overhead lights.

I don’t know how he
does it
,
thought the General, looking at his right arm, standing there in perfect
garrison uniform.  He knew the man had to sleep, but he couldn’t prove when
that occurred.

“At ease,” yelled
Zhukov, striding toward his chair at the head of the table, where coffee had
already been set.  He spun into the chair and glared at a couple of officers
that ran in late and moved quickly to their chairs, their eyes avoiding the General’s.

“So what do we know so
far?” he asked the assemblage, noting that some of the faces out there looked
shocked.  Stunned might be the better term. 
Thought they were coming to a
peaceful planet in a quiet sector.
  But Zhukov had learned early on in his
career that quiet sectors only meant they hadn’t burst into flame, yet.

“We have ships in the
four million ton range translating at the hyper barrier after leap frogging
down from VII,” said the naval liaison officer, Commander Pierre DuCox, looking
up from his flat comp.  “At least twenty, probably more.  First alert received
by grav wave transmission by a picket.  Nothing heard since.”