Exodus: Empires at War: Book 17: The Rebirth Read online

  Exodus: Empires at War

  Book 17

  The Rebirth

  by

  Doug Dandridge

  This novel is dedicated to one of my favorite authors, David Drake. David was good enough to give me a blurb on the first book of my Kinship War series. A great writer, whose prose comes from the heart. Hammer's Slammers forever.

  Contact me at [email protected]

  Follow my Blog at http://dougdandridge.com

  Follow me at @BrotherofCats

  Copyright © 2020 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

  “Supreme Lord,” said a voice to the right and behind.

  Mrastaran was still not used to being addressed in such a manner. In his mind he was still a great admiral. A warrior, and a philosopher. Not the ruler of the Ca'cadasan Empire.

  He had never wanted this position, but it had landed in his lap. The male had only wanted to finish out his career and retire to his family estates on an out of the way planet. Away from all the politics he hated.

  Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for the Empire, the young idiot who had been Emperor had killed everyone in line for the throne between himself and the great admiral. Four other males, from a doddering oldster to an infant, had paid with their lives for the crime of existing, threatening his own rule as he kept making decision after bad decision, and the unrest of his subjects grew.

  Mastaran was forced to return to the capital by imperial Decree. Probably to face execution for failing to crush the enemy on the Klavarta front. He had won a Pyrrhic victory, but not enough of one to allow the Ca'cadasans to remove their fleet and reinforce the main front. That was what the Emperor wanted, demanded, and anything less was treason. It was really just an excuse to get rid of another possible rival, and everyone knew it.

  Only the great admiral had come into the capital system to the news that Jresstratta V was dead, killed by his own guards. And the male who had ordered the assassination hadn't used the event to take the throne for himself. He didn't have the pedigree and the people wouldn't have accepted him. Which left the next in line of succession, Mrastaran.

  And so here he was, the Supreme Lord of the Ca'cadasan Empire. A realm in disarray. On the edge of defeat. He really wondered if it deserved to survive. But then, these were his people, and he had to do his best by them.

  “Have the ships arrived?” he asked the supreme admiral who was now his chief of naval operations.

  “Most of them, Supreme Lord. With more coming.”

  Mrastaran turned to look at the other male, Klestaras. “We can do without all the supreme lord stuff, Admiral. I am a battle commander, plain and simple, while my regent takes care of the political mess back at the capital.”

  “If you say so, Supre.., I mean Admiral.”

  The new Emperor had made the decision to lead the fleet himself. From the deck of a ship. Not really at the front, but near enough. It was a risk, but they needed to take risks if they were to survive this thing. The first thing he did was sack the reactionary fools who were leading the fleet, ones who thought with their glands instead of their brains. He had promoted admirals known for their intellect, and demanded that they read up on Terran history. Not just military history, but the political side as well. They needed to understand their enemy, the way they thought, if they had any chance of beating the humans.

  The first principle he had expounded was from von Clausewitz. That to defend everything meant to defend nothing. He had ordered thousands of systems abandoned by their defense fleets. The ground troops could stay, for now. He didn't need infantry. Later on he could decide if he wanted to keep those systems in the Empire at all.

  Then he had taken a page from the Japanese Empire of the Second Earth Global War. He didn't think he could beat the humans straight up. What he needed to do was hurt them, so bad that they asked for a peaceful solution. If they asked the Ca'cadasans to release the sentients they had in bondage he would consider it. They really didn't need those slaves, not in the modern Galaxy. It was an affectation of the species, seeing themselves as superior to all, deserving to rule everything. But first he had to bring the humans to the bargaining table.

  Superior to all, he thought with a huff. The Ca'cadasans only superior trait was longevity. They were physically strong, but there were several species of greater strength. He had one in his Empire, and that one was being mobilized. The humans had at least one stronger species. The Ca'cadasans were not the swiftest mentally. Mrastaran himself was a genius among his people, which might put him in the top five percent of the human species. Which meant there were tens of millions of humans smarter than he was.

  His advantage was the wisdom of age. Something that most Ca'cadasans didn't use well enough.

  “We start moving into position tomorrow. What isn't here can come up when they can.”

  “And then, Admiral?”

  And then we wait for the humans to move, and pick the best place to cause them the most casualties possible. It would be a bloodbath no matter what. Something Mrastaran abhorred. And something he thought impossible to avoid at this point.

  * * *

  “Why in the hell couldn't the little shit stain of an Emperor manage to stay in power,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski, his image sitting in a chair in the conference room while his body occupied a ship thousands of light years away.

  “It would have been a lot rougher on the Ca'cadasan people and their slaves,” said Sean, immediately raising a hand to cut off the protests of his battle fleet commander. “I know. We have to care more about our own. But it rubs me the wrong way to see so many innocent sentients taken out in collateral damage.”

  “It's going to be bad news with Mrastaran in charge, your Majesty,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk. The junior grand fleet admiral of the alliance was also attending by holo, her body actually much farther away than Len's, on the Klavarta front. “That male actually thinks before he acts. And from what I understand he reads, a lot. A lot of our stuff, so he understands us better than anyone else in their Empire.”

  Sean nodded. He had seen the reports that had come from their Maurid operatives on this new Emperor, who seemed determined to remain a field commander as well. Sean, early in the war, had tried the same thing. It had led to confusion in the chain of command and resentment at home. And he had to admit that Len and Duke Taelis were much better field generals than he was at his age. He might have been more intelligent, but smarts weren't the only thing that made a great fighting admiral.

  “And our intelligence assets have reported that he has already started to clean house,” said Admiral Ekaterian Sergiov, one of the few people at the conference actually sitting in the room. “Getting rid of leaders who act before they think, at all levels.”

  “And how did you come by this information, Admiral Sergiov?” asked Duke Taelis Mgonda, also attending by holo, leaning forward in his chair thousands of light years distant.

  “Your Majesty?” asked Sergiov, looking at Sean.

  “Go ahead and tell them, Admiral,” said Sean with a shrug. “These people have the highest possible clearances, and for once I'm n
ot going to let need to know govern here.”

  “Your call, your Majesty.” Sergiov pulled up a holo that projected the image of a coal black Maurid.

  “This is Shadow, our direct contact to the Maurid Council. Of course the Council lost all access to the higher levels of Ca'cadasan intelligence. They were still able to glean some from Cacas captured in the field.”

  “I'm surprised they got anything from them,” said Len, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the image.

  Maurids reminded some people of canines, wolves. They reminded Sean of the Werewolves of legend. Their clawed hands and feet, each capable of fine motor activity, could curl up into running pads. Their jaws were as powerful as those of a terrestrial shark. They were smart and they were fast, and they were holy terror as intelligence operatives.

  “They can be very persuasive,” said Sergiov, a cold smile playing across her lips. “But that's not the important part. This new Emperor is what's important.”

  “And what else is he doing?” asked McCullom.

  “He's trying to reach a reconciliation with the Maurids. Offering them a bit of independence if they come back into the fold.”

  “Surely they aren't falling for that?” asked Taelis, scowling. “We offered them a much better deal, and they've seen what the Cacas will do it they think they are being disloyal.”

  “The problem, Duke Taelis,” said Sean, leaning forward and steepling his fingers, “is that the species have been members of the Ca'cadasan Empire for thirty generations. They have earned more freedom than most because of their singular abilities. While most aren't willing to jump back into the loving arms of their masters, a percentage are.”

  “But, why?” asked Taelis, confusion on his face. “The Cacas just tried to exterminate them in job lots.”

  “They are much like us in some ways,” said Sean, closing his eyes. “They want to protect lovers, spouses, families, and the Cacas took care of them for over a thousand years. We're something new, and most of them don't know us. It's surprising that so few of them have decided to go back into the fold. But because some have, we have an opportunity.”

  “Yes, Duke Taelis,” said Sergiov, dismissing the holo of Shadow. “Some of the Maurids on our side are using the reconciliation for cover to get back into Caca territory and gather intelligence for us. Of course we don't expect them to get into the hierarchy of the Caca command structure, but if they can feed us some info. Troop movements, morale, logistics. Anything that gives us a look into the minds of the enemy.”

  “Just be careful, people,” said Sean, giving his intelligence chief a nod for her presentation. “This is a new development for our enemy. I'm sure we will be surprised by some of the things they do. That could bite us in the ass. Or give us new opportunities to hurt them. So, let's get to it.”

  Chapter One

  All warfare is based on deception. Unknown

  MAY 10TH, 1004. CA'CADASAN SPACE.

  The Emperor Mrastaran, Mrastaran the First, strode onto the flag bridge of his flagship as the males jumped to their feet, bowing while rendering the traditional hand salute to a commander. Mrastaran stopped for a moment to look around the bridge, something new on a Ca'cadasan ship. It was newly added, assembled quickly from prefab parts, and if it worked as well as he expected there would be many more added to flagships across the fleet.

  And the stupid hard heads are grumbling about this as well, thought the ex-fleet commander who had been known as the philosopher admiral. Well, it was his empire now, and what changes he wanted made would happen. Another of those changes was his actually commanding from the deck of a ship. Traditionally, emperors stayed on the home world, in relative safety. They served their stint in the fleet in low threat areas. That was the way the Ca'cadasan Empire and ensured that there would always be a seated Emperor, and that the succession would proceed smoothly no matter what.

  “Get me the heir on the com,” he told the com officer. “Private link.”

  The holo came to life in front of the Emperor at the same time as the air around him solidified into a holographic privacy field. Another new device, based on proven tech, giving the commander the ability to have a private conversation without leaving the bridge.

  “Father,” said the male who appeared in the holo frame. The young male, still under a thousand, was a striking figure with the looks of a vid star.

  Mrashrasta was Mrastaran's eldest, newly retired from the fleet and the heir to the throne. He had been raised to be his father's son, using his head for something other than a helmet stand. Maybe not quite the historian and philosopher his father was, he was still better educated than ninety-nine percent of the general population. He was also one of the few males that Mrastaran trusted fully.

  “Any problems?” asked Mrastaran, concerned about having put so much on the shoulders of the young male.

  “I have heard a few comments about turning our backs on tradition,” said the young male. “The usual.”

  “Be careful,” Mrastaran cautioned his son. “You have good people around you. Take advantage of them.”

  Of course Mrastaran was still the Emperor, but he might be cut off from control of the Empire at times while out on campaign. That shouldn't happen, not with the wormhole aboard the flagship. An old combat commander, the Emperor knew that things that shouldn't happen, did.

  Mrastaran hadn't executed the guards who had let the old Emperor become the victim of an assassination attempt, despite the outcry that they needed to be crucified. Instead, he had transferred them back into the fleet, their identities changed. The Emperor thought the culture of the Empire needed to change, drastically, and mass executions needed to end. His own security, and that of his sons, was being provided by the traditional retainers of his family. He trusted them as much as he could any male who was not a direct family member.

  One of his other sons, Maratan, a hundred years younger than his eldest, had been promoted out of the fleet to become the Chief Inspector of Ships. There had been some cries of favoritism, as if previous emperors hadn't given friends and family prime positions that had made them rich. Others had said the the young male didn't have the experience for this position. While Mrastaran might have agreed with those sentiments, Maratan was another of the few males he trusted to see his vision through.

  “You be careful, father. You know that the humans will go all out to take your head.”

  Mrastaran gave a head motion of agreement. He knew he was taking a risk leading, even if not directly from the front, but the morale in the fleet was at an all time low, and they needed something to give them motivation. The Emperor had read all the human histories he could get his hands on. Many of the older tales, almost legends, had revolved around the warrior kings who had fought alongside their soldiers. Something to emulate, though he wouldn't be taking his flagship into the heart of the fight. Still, being seen at the field would have to raise morale, wouldn't it?

  “I will be, son. I just want you and your brother to keep things moving along. I'm counting on you to get us what we need to win this war.”

  Mrastaran wasn't sure if victory was even possible. But a negotiated peace? Maybe, if he could kill enough humans to make them second guess their continuation of the war. Not by destroying systems and all life in them. That would do nothing more than enrage the humans, making them dead to possible diplomacy. No, it had to be their ships and their spacers that he killed.

  “The governors and system admirals are going to raise holy hell, you know.”

  The Emperor gave another head motion of agreement. That was to be expected. The problem was, he needed ships to hurt the humans with, and too many of those vessels were assigned to system defense fleets, mainly there to show the indigenous people that there was force in the system that they couldn't fight. Well, he didn't think they needed a hundred or more warships to make that point. A half dozen could conduct a planetary bombardment if need be, though he hoped to avoid that tactic. Gathering the excess ships would give him a
couple of hundred thousands vessels to swell his order of battle. Mostly older vessels, and predominantly scouts and cruisers, they could still launch missiles and provide defensive weapons to any force they were assigned to.

  Basically, the problem as he saw it was the Empire had too much territory to adequately defend. He needed time to get the Empire turned around. Trading space for time was a time honored tradition in human military history. Mrastaran had been reading about the second global war, and the nation state called Germany. They had used advanced tactics to roll over their nearest neighbors to either side. Then had come the invasion of the largest nation state on the planet. The Soviet Union looked like it would fall just as fast as the smaller nation states. They had traded land for time, probably unintentionally, but it had become an effective strategy that allowed them to bleed the enemy while rebuilding their own forces. They hadn't won that war on their own, but they had been instrumental in the victory.

  On the other side of the planet was the nation state known as Japan. The Japanese, as they were called, had fortified a number of islands, trying to make it too costly for the United States, one of the larger combatants, to close with and attack their homeland. The United States had bypassed many of those islands and closed with Japan. The Japanese started using suicide attackers, much as the Ca'cadasans had been doing themselves. Their plan was to bleed the forces of the United States to the point where they would ask for a negotiated peace. Unfortunately for them, the United States developed the first nuclear weapons on the world, and had worked up such a rage against the Japanese that they were unlikely to settle for anything short of total victory.

  Really, the situation of his Empire was closer to that of the Japanese, though there were some similarities with the Soviet Union. He had the territory, enough to gain a considerable measure of time, though not an eternity. The problem of stopping the enemy from bypassing systems was his greatest problem. His predecessor had solved that by threatening whole populations, eventually destroying entire systems. He couldn't see himself continuing that policy. Not just because it went against his principles, but because if he wanted to achieve a negotiated peace in the future, the less civilian blood on his hands the better.