Exodus: Empires at War: Book 16: The Shield. Read online

  Exodus: Empires at War

  Book 16

  The Shield.

  by

  Doug Dandridge

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to one of my all-time favorite authors, David Weber. When I was going through a hard time, David was there with kind words that help me to crest the rise that loomed ahead. Thank you, and thank Honor Harrington for being such an inspiration.

  Contact me at [email protected]

  Follow my Blog at http://dougdandridge.com

  Follow me at @BrotherofCats

  Copyright © 2019 Doug Dandridge

  All rights reserved.

  Please respect the hard work of this author. If you found this book for free on a pirate site, please visit Amazon and buy a copy of your own. I feel that I charge a reasonable price for this work. I would like to thank Ruth de Jauregui for lettering my cover. I think her work really improves the snap of those covers, and I am fortunate that she does the.

  For more information on the Exodus Universe, visit http://dougdandridge.net for maps, sketches and other details of this work.

  Prologue

  Space is enormous. That really goes without saying, but most people have no idea what that really means. Intelligent beings evolved in the smaller environments of planetary surfaces. Not even aware of the whole surface, but the tiny portion they could take in from horizon to horizon. Solar systems themselves are so large that most organic minds can't comprehend the immensity. And each star system is less than a dot in the sea of emptiness that seems to stretch into infinity.

  Grand Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk looked into that infinity from the flag bridge of the superheavy battleship Romulus, her most powerful unit and currently the only member of her class among the admiral's fleet. Twenty-eight million tons of warship, even less of a dot in the enormous emptiness. Taking up the center of the view screen was the only rocky planet in the system, really a moon of the only gas giant. In orbit around a dim red star.

  Over eighty percent of the stellar bodies in the Galaxy were red dwarves, most useless to star spanning civilizations. A few had planets or moons that supported carbon based life. Those were explored and exploited, but they were few and far between. Even more rare were those planets which supported methane based life. The odds were astronomical that any of those worlds would have intelligent life. And here they had hit the jackpot.

  As if I really care, thought the fleet commander, not quite meaning it. She was not here as part of Exploration Command. However, she had the resources that had nothing better to do, so survey crews had descended to the surface. She wondered how many other red dwarf systems were out here that had something of interest. The problem was, there were so many systems within any moderately sized star nation, a billion or more in most cases, that the resources to explore them all were not available. In most nations a survey ship was sent to every star at least once for a look over, to make sure that said system was not being used by criminal organizations. Then they were visited again every year or two. But not here, in space that New Earth had only recently liberated from the Ca'cadasan Empire. And with a war going on, the resources were just not available. Until she came along, looking for a place to hide and consolidate her fleet.

  “The destroyer squadron will be arriving at the target in the next twelve hours,” said Captain Sigurd Janssen, her chief of staff. “Any orders?”

  Beata shot a glare at her COS. She knew the officer didn't approve of her tactical decision. He didn't have to approve. He was only doing his job by playing devil's advocate, but she was growing weary of his attitude.

  “No orders. They are to continue the mission as ordered. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” said a frowning captain.

  The ships would be crawling through hyper I for the next twelve hours, all but undetectable. At the end of their journey they would hang in hyper I, small targets generating minimal gravitons, undetectable by ship sensors at a distance greater than a couple of light hours. Sitting as they would be at three light days, it would take a massive system sensor array to pick them up. So far the humans had seen no sign that the enemy had any such arrays in Pleisia. The turning point would come when the ships jumped down to normal space. There was no hiding that signal for over a light month in any direction. Beata could only hope the enemy admiral decided they were just what they looked to be, scouts, not worth his attention. If he decided to fire on them the missiles would give themselves away, and it would be over three days journey from the center of the system.

  At the same time a dozen destroyers already in place would jump into hyper and head out. Another distraction, to make it look like a change of shift. The problem was, there was really no need for such a turnover, and she had to hope the enemy commander just took it for granted.

  “Ma'am. Admiral Montgomery in on the com.”

  “Put her on,” said Bednarczyk, a smile stretching her face. She considered Mara her most capable officer, as well as one of the very few people she allowed close enough to call a friend. Timothy Hahn, Natasha Krushchev and the others she had brought from her last operation were all capable, but Mara deserved special trust. Audacious and cautious at the same time, with a tactical brilliance seen in few officers, the admiral thought herself lucky to have the other woman on her staff. Soon she would be promoted out of her current position. A win for the Empire, if a loss for Bednarczyk.

  “We're ready, ma'am,” said the beautiful redhead, her blue eyes virtually glowing. “May the Goddess be with us.”

  Beata wasn't sure what she thought about Mara's religious beliefs. She had left her own Lutheran religion behind, and Paganism seemed even more far-fetched. As long as her subordinate received comfort from her beliefs it was fine with the commanding officer.

  “I still have reservations about not keying all of my officers in on the operation.”

  Beata nodded. She had her own reservations. But with the suspected leak to the Cacas, she wasn't willing to take chances. She was pretty sure of her own officers, who would have no reason to turn traitor. She wasn't sure of her allies, and it just seemed best to keep a lid on all information not necessary to getting the ships to where they needed to be when they had to be there.

  “I know. But we only have one chance at this, and I refuse to see my operation go off the rails because of some random conversation.”

  That no one would tap into this conversation was an absolute given. I was impossible to get a read on anything in transit through a wormhole, and the transmission through ship systems went into the best encryption in known space. Not that it couldn't be broken, but the odds were long against anyone even getting a read on it to start with.

  “Your captains know. And it will only take minutes for them to inform the rest of their crews.”

  “True,” said the tall, willowy woman who was physically everything the shorter, stouter Bednarczyk was not. “Still, they won't have as much time to digest the plan, and suggestions won't be forthcoming.”

  “We'll just have to deal with that,” said Beata, somewhat impatiently. “Now, what is your take on the Pleisia system?”

  Mara was sitting in another of the innumerable red dwarf systems in this region, her fleet doing exactly the same thing as Beata's contingent. Nothing. The destroyers hanging out on the edge of the Pleisia system, as well as the stealth/attack ships simulating holes in space further in, were under her command.

  “We're picking up the graviton emissions of a large force within the system,” said Mara, a frown crossing her lovely face. “But I'm not buying it. There's too much movement for a fleet sitting in port. Like they want us to see what t
hey want us to see.”

  “So you think they're pulling the same trick they used on Admiral Klanarat?”

  “I would bet my soul on it,” said the serious faced four star. “They want us to walk into their trap. Then, when we have stuck enough of our neck into the noose, they are going to open the trapdoor and let us swing.”

  Beata grimaced at that imagery. Hanging was not a common punishment in the Empire, though it was still used in some local jurisdictions. She had seen one in her life, and thought it horrific to see a living being choking out its life at the end of a rope. She could imagine the same for a fleet trapped within the hyper barrier of a system when a star was made to go nova. They would all be scrambling to try to get into space where they could translate to hyper, or behind rocky bodies. Panic would ensue. And most would fail.

  “Keep a look out for anything they might be hiding well outside the system,” cautioned Beata, raising a hand to halt her subordinate's objections. “I know you will, but it makes me feel better to know that I reminded you.”

  “Yes, ma'am. And you also know how difficult it is to pick up someone lying powered down in that vast an expanse of normal space. We will be sweeping it, and I will have every sensor not tasked for something else looking. But the odds are we won't find them.”

  And if we do find them, then what? thought the fleet commander. Her fleet would lose many of its advantages in hyper, and the enemy would be able to jump out of the way of missile swarms. Just have to worry about that when it happens. Her staff would be working on contingencies, of course. However, no one could foresee every possible contingency.

  * * *

  Great Admiral Mrastaran Hlrata sat the commander chair on the bridge of his flagship, a twenty-five million ton beast of a Ca'cadasan super battleship. Around him the bridge hummed with activity, officers monitoring all com frequencies and sensor reads. They were looking for the alien fleet. The great admiral knew it was coming. What he didn't know was when, or how.

  “No sign yet, my Lord,” reported Admiral Trostara, the Ca'cadasan chief of staff.

  “They have to be coming, Lords,” said one of the sensor officers, looking back at his two superiors. “These humans are too soft hearted to let us kill other aliens.”

  Mrastaran grunted in agreement. If they had been fighting only the Klavarta, as they had been before they contacted the other human empire, he wouldn't have been able to agree to that. Those xenophobes would have smiled as they thought of someone else doing their work for them.

  Of course they have to come, he thought, giving a head motion of negation. Don't they?

  He knew if it was up to him, if he was put in their place, he wouldn't have come. His fleet, preserving his ships, would have been the priority. In fact, were it up to him he would be presently be forging into the center of the Klavarta nation, New Earth. Unfortunately, it was not up to him. The Emperor had demanded that he set this trap and keep his fleet here to destroy any human ships that tried to escape.

  “The human scout ships we have been tracking have started jumping,” reported another of the sensor officers, his eyes locked on his screens.

  “What kind?” asked the great admiral, not able to keep everything going within his mind at the same time.

  “Ships from their Empire on the other front, my Lord. Over two hundred thousand tons.”

  Mrastaran grunted again. He knew the Klavarta ships were the more numerous, but he had more respect for the Imperial version. Only half the size of his own scout ships, they were more powerful for their mass. He had to wonder why they weren't using the less massive Klavarta scouts. Those would have been just as effective as scouts, and their loss wouldn't have been felt quite as tragic to the Imperial commander.

  That had also come as a shock. He was hoping he would be facing a Klavarta commander. In fact, his intelligence had told him that the leader of the force he had routed had survived, and should have been given command of the fleet. Instead, the Imperial commander, a female, the one who had given him so much trouble in this same system, had been given command. That one was trouble, plain and simple. Intelligent and unpredictable. So, how was she going to approach? Not through a wormhole, since she would not be able to bring her other wormholes with her.

  “We have other destroyers jumping out, my Lord. It's looking like they are changing them out.”

  “Which probably means they don't have wormholes on any of those ships,” said the chief of staff.

  Mrastaran wasn't sure of Trostara's point those ships could have sat there for months, subsisting on their stored supplies, wormholes or not. They wouldn't need them, unless they intended to send streams of wormhole launched missiles into the system. The admiral knew he wouldn't risk such a precious resource on vessels as light as those. One hit from a major warship and they were gone, and the wormhole with them. No, they were good enough scouts with just those strange aliens aboard.

  If only we could capture one of them for study, thought Mrastaran. Ships were not easy captures in the kind of battles fought in this war. Most of the losing side lost everything, ships shattered in space. And the few they had been able to board had none of the Klassekians still alive. He was still hopeful that...

  “You have a com, my Lord. From the Emperor.”

  By the Gods, thought the admiral, wishing that he didn't have to talk to the little shit. Or that someone would challenge the youngster to a duel. Unfortunately, such was not allowed, and only someone in the Imperial succession would benefit if it were. Mrastaran was ninth in line for the throne, so it would have done him no good. The rules had been changed by the last Emperor concerning duels in the fleet. An inferior could still challenge a superior, though the one challenged could decide with what the fight would be waged. Attacking outside a challenge usually meant the challenger was quickly killed by the commander's security. And it was illegal to challenge during an active campaign, lest it disrupt the chain of command at an inopportune time.

  “Supreme Lord,” said Mrastaran as the young face appeared in the holo.

  “Great Admiral,” said the young male in his still not mature voice. “Have the humans started to move yet. I need them to be destroyed, so your ships can transfer back to this front.”

  “They had been moving scouts around the system, Supreme Lord,” said Mrastaran, bowing his head, as much to hide the grimace on his face as to show respect. “But so far nothing from their main fleet. Might I suggest that we might get more of a response if I move my fleet toward their capital?”

  “No,” hissed the young fool, glaring out of the holo. “I want them gathered up and destroyed without the risk to our ships. I need those ships.”

  And they aren't going to do what you want just because you wish it, thought Mrastaran, trying his best to keep the disdain from his expression. His efforts must have been good enough, since the little idiot didn't start ranting, raving and threatening.

  “Perhaps if you started killing more of the populace of the planet it would get them moving. Surely they have com to that surface. Start sending your soldiers down to process the natives for rations.”

  Mrastaran didn't like the sound of that one bit. Not only were the Plesians, from all accounts, a foul tasting lot. There were millions of armed natives down there. And even worse, there were an estimated twenty thousand of the Klavarta ground warrior subspecies. Those were enough to terrify any Ca'cadasan, even though the big aliens outmassed them by more than two. The warrior subspecies was a nightmare. Jaws that could break bones working teeth that spelled the doom for any creature whose throat they clamped around. Spines, claws, moving with a speed that could only be matched by the augmented humans of the human Empire, or possibly the Maurids of his own Empire.

  And my request for Maurids was turned down without explanation, thought the great admiral. He had to wonder if there was something going on with their slave/allies. Something that wasn't going to turn out well for the empire.

  “We will do what we can, Supreme Lord,” sa
id Mrastaran, bowing his head again. What else could he say? From what he had heard this weapon had already been used on the other front, so these humans had to know of its existence. So why would they poke their heads into a trap they had to be aware of. And if they didn't come here? Mrastaran could see this punk of a ruler yelling for the great admiral's head if things didn't go exactly the way he wanted.

  If only we had someone else in charge, thought Mrastaran. Treasonous thoughts, but something he couldn't help himself from thinking. If only they could find someone to take the Emperor's place, in the case of an unfortunate accident.

  Chapter One

  An ethical man doesn't need a consensus of his allies in order to act against something he finds reprehensible. Joseph Brodsky

  MARCH 30TH, 1004. PLEISIA SYSTEM.

  Captain (Brevet) Henri Francois-Ramirez held in the stomach contents that threatened to spill onto the deck as the destroyer Zulu entered normal space. The captain, whose permanent rank was still commander, had never been an easy translator. He normally took medication to calm his stomach before a translation, which also made him somewhat drowsy. That couldn't happen when translating in so close to the enemy, so he had gone without.

  Zulu was a brand new destroyer, given to him since it had a better com suite than any of the other ships in the squadron. Named after a proud warrior people, who had used superior tactics to carve out an Empire in Iron Age Africa, he really didn't want to dishonor its name by puking.

  “Sir,” called out the tactical officer, Lt. Senior Marsha McTaggart, looking over from her station and not showing the least sign of translation sickness. “Everything appears to be as expected.”

  “Jarvis is transmitting their data dump to us, sir,” said Lt. JG Tangana Kenyata, looking up from his com board. “We're forwarding it back to command.”