Exodus: Empires at War: Book 9: Second Front Page 16

  The Klassekian returned the Captain’s level gaze, her four eyes, two large and two small, a pair on each side of her bulbous nose, blinking periodically. The rest of the head was somewhat humanoid, and the flowing mane of reddish brown hair looked most human from behind, though it rose from lower on the forehead than that of humankind. The lower mouth was set in a smile, showing the creature’s sharp teeth, while the speaking/breathing orifice above the ingestion organ was closed for the moment. The legs were jointed in an unusual manner, and a special chair had been added to the cockpit for the alien, while the three tentacles on each side of the torso had also needed accommodation for the operation of the com gear.

  “Give me an image,” ordered Chou.

  Naranta produced a very human head nod, then closed her eyes, linking her implant to the com system of the ship. At first the image coming over the holo was mostly static, but it soon cleared enough to show the cockpit of another fighter, seen through the eyes of her sister who held the com position on that vessel. The Captain of the other ship was speaking, and Chou smiled as she found herself recognizing the speech.

  “It seems to be working on our end as well, Commander,” she told her Exec, in charge of the number two bird. We’re no longer completely cut off from the Universe, she thought. But they still had one more test to prove the concept.

  The inertia less fighter and her consorts accelerated up to two c, their highest safe velocity. The com between all of the ships, relayed through the carrier, which was linked into the ship net through wormhole com, steadied. There were members of three sets of siblings on-board the fighters, and one of each set on the carrier.

  “Adjust vector,” said Chou, watching the tactical holo as their target changed vector and boosted to change its position. It was a battleship, normally a target that was difficult to miss finding, though in the recent past the inertia less fighters had done a fine job of missing entire fleets of the Ca’cadasan superbattleships. That was the point of this exercise.

  “Come to heading two six four ecliptic by one two seven,” she called out to both her own Pilot and the squadron over the link between the Klassekians.

  The squadron curved their vector in space at incredible accelerations, like nothing any ship or missile could pull in normal space. Decelerating on one axis while accelerating on another, they followed the target that was trying to pull away at five hundred gravities. Then it was boosting on yet another axis, and the fighters had to change their own vectors again to adjust.

  The fighters decelerated, until they were at the exact same velocity they had been at when entering warp bubble. Coming out at any other velocity meant destruction as the inertia caught up with them. They were now coasting along at point nine light, the maximum effective attack speed in normal space, something that had been learned through the death and destruction of many fighters and crew.

  “Preparing to drop warp bubble, now,” called out the Pilot as they hit the agreed upon attack point based on their distance and orientation from the target.

  The bubble of negative matter was immediately shifted around by the magnetic field and sucked into the storage tanks, held away from normal matter by the magnetic field. Captain Chou yelled out in triumph as the viewer showed the target battleship straight ahead, starting to pull away a bit on its present vector, but still within the attack envelope of the missiles the fighters carried.

  Not quite optimum distance, thought the Captain, grimacing, then smiling. It was still light years better than what they were doing before with a target that was on a more or less steady course, much less one that had been doing its best to not be found.

  The come holo came on, showing the face of the Admiral in charge of the test, a smile on her face as well. “Congratulations, Captain Chou, to you and all your crews. I am very pleased, as I am sure the Emperor will be.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Chou with a slight seated bow. “You can thank my new com tech,” she said, looking over at the Klassekian. “I can’t wait to try this on the Cacas, and see how they respond to our new found accuracy.”

  * * *

  “That’s great news, Admiral,” said Sean as he looked at the woman in the com holo over the control board. He was seated in the copilot seat of the shuttle taking him on the tour of the new production at the Central Docks. “I was really disappointed in the performance of your fighters at New Moscow. Not their fault, or yours,” he hastily added as he saw her expression drop.

  “We could have wished for better performance, yes,” said Fleet Admiral Chantuo Chan, the Director of Fleet Research and Development, and one of the finest engineering minds in the Empire. She had been instrumental in the development of the inertia less fighters, and had been rewarded with first a combat command and then a fifth star, before returning to her natural slot. “They did so well at Congreeve and during the offensive. I was sure they would still be a game changer.”

  “They’re still a game changer, when the other side isn’t expecting them and doesn’t adjust their vector and velocity to make them miss,” said Sean, nodding. “Let’s see them try that when we can also adjust.”

  “I have to admit, your Majesty, that I feel bad putting these, primitives, and barely trained ones at that, into our fighters,” said Chan, grimacing.

  “I do too, admiral, but baring the development of some miraculous com system that works in that damned warp bubble, I don’t see any other choice.”

  “It’s just that they really don’t know what they’re getting into,” said the diminutive Admiral. “They haven’t even been through a full round of basic, much less specialty training.”

  Sean nodded again. He really didn’t know what to say. All of the Klassekians had been through an abbreviated month of training, some basic drills, two weeks on space operations, and in the last seven days, communications. They were supposed to receive on the job training from here on, and Sean was hoping they wouldn’t be called to combat for at least three or four months. There was no guarantee of that, of course, and they could be heading into combat tomorrow. The next group would be trained through a half course, still several months, while future classes would go through complete training cycles before reporting, not just to inertia less fighters, but also to the many warships that were not blessed with a wormhole com.

  “It was my decision, Admiral,” he told the woman. “There is no need for you to feel any guilt. All responsibility falls on me.”

  And she’ll still have trouble sleeping at night, thought Sean, looking into haunted eyes. That was one of the things that made her a good officer, and not just a genius at developing new science into the tech the Empire needed. And you will not be taking any combat commands from here on out. She was just too valuable to the war effort.

  “Let me know if anything else comes up,” said Sean, looking over at the Pilot, who was sitting there patiently. He smiled at the woman. “I have some more wonders to behold.”

  The holo of Chan faded, replaced immediately by an image of a new vessel, one of those they had come to see. The name of the ship, HIMS King Henry II, shone in three dimensional letters under the image. Through the main cockpit portals sat the real thing, almost as large as the one in the holo and getting larger every second.

  “All the super heavy battleships building now are Augustine class,” said Vice Admiral Tabitha Marista, the officer in charge of the construction program at Central Docks. “Actually the modified Augustine class,” she corrected. “We added another five hundred thousand tons in modifications, including augmented armor.”

  “So she’s just over twenty eight million tons?” asked Sean after a whistle. “And she’s ready for acceptance trials?”

  “She and nine of her sisters, your Majesty,” said Marista, pulling up the names of the other ships on the holos.

  And we have no shortage of ship names, thought Sean, frowning as he looked at the list. Normally ships were assigned names of vessels that had been retired. But there had been enough combat losses
since the war began that names that normally would not be available for decades were ready for recycling.

  “Ten more will be ready next month, your Majesty,” said the Admiral quickly, most probably thinking the frown had something to do with the few ships that would be working up. “We have another hundred in the docks, and two hundred more in docks across the Empire. Otherwise, all of the other capital ship docks are filled with hyper VII battleships, superbattleships and battle cruisers, as well as the last of the hyper VI battleships, ready for upgrade.”

  “You have done a wonderful job, Admiral,” he told Marista, forcing a smile on his face. He could wish that they had twice as many ships in production, but without further facilities for putting the ships together, they could only build what they could. They had double the capacity from before the war, and in a year it would double again. And he had no choice but to be patient and try to hold on. Hopefully the Cacas wouldn’t come back before his new fleet was ready for them. And if they did, he would just have to make do with what he had until that fleet arrived.

  The Admiral piloted him around for another hour, looking over ships, fleet carriers, cruisers, destroyers, assault ships. Sean’s internal implant alarm went off as they were cruising past a dozen new stealth/attack ships, also preparing for their working up.

  “I have another meeting to attend, Admiral,” he told the woman who had piloted through the vast yards. “Please take me back to the docks so I can catch the wormhole back to the Hexagon.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” said the Admiral, spinning the ship on its axis, killing its velocity in an instant, and heading back to the station from which Central Docks got its name.

  * * *

  The man known as Angel was watching. That was all he had scheduled for this day, watching, blending in, getting a look at the target. There’s no way I’m going to get in close and kill this one, thought Angel, the only name he was known by to his customers, including the most recent ones. Angel was actually short for Angel of Death. Not a name he had given to himself, but one that had been hung on him by a crime boss who had commissioned his services to take out so called impossible target.

  At the moment he stood in a group of Spacers who were cheering their Emperor as he walked down the corridor to the wormhole gate room. He could barely see the man for the escort he had with him. That the Emperor was augmented was a given. Even if he hadn’t known it ahead of time, it was obvious from the easy way the young man carried himself, with the grace of stronger than normal muscles motivated by a superhuman nervous system. It was not so obvious with the dozen people in civilian clothes who surrounded him. They had been trained to blend in, much as Angel, another augmented, did. Still, to an expert eye, the signs were there.

  And there were also ten Marines in medium battle armor walking behind the party. To all appearances they were wearing standing shipboard battle armor, each costing a half million imperials. Again, Angel knew better. He had been Fleet at one time, and recognized the special two million imperial suits the men and women wore.

  Yep, no way I’m going to get a close kill on this one, not if I want to walk away to spend my money. He was sure he could get a kill on the young man, despite his augmentation. Angel, after all, was a trained killer. There was no way he could get through a dozen augmented agents, and if he did the Marines would be sure to blow him apart. He wasn’t even sure that any of the poisons he had access to would kill someone with the nanosystems the monarch carried, or any forms of nanotech would be more advanced than what that young man had coursing through his veins. There were always trained medical people along, and anything less than a brain scrambling shot would be useless.

  I’m going to have to take him out with a long ranged shot, thought Angel, again wondering why in the hell someone in the government would want him dead. The only place he could make that shot was in Capitulum, and he thought of the perfect place, where the secondary target would probably show up as well. Now he just had to figure out how to get her there.

  As the Emperor and his retinue disappeared into the gate room, Angel turned away, heading down the corridor to a lift that would take him to the hanger where his shuttle waited. It was a story in itself, with spoofing systems that allowed it through almost any kind of security arrangements the Fleet had in place. Not the palace, no way. But just about anyplace else.

  Perhaps I should just call that bitch and tell her I’m backing out, he thought as he settled into the pilot’s chair. But he had already taken the money. Normally he received a million Imperials for a hit, sometimes more, depending on how high profile the target was. He had asked for a hundred million for this one, sure that it would not be offered. They had surprised him by immediately delivering it to his private account. And while he was sure he could avoid the people they sent after him if he reneged, he was also sure he would be out of business and on the run.

  “Shit,” he whispered to himself as his shuttle left the docks and headed for the planet Jewel. “You’d think I would have learned by now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil.

  Hannah Arendt

  CAPITULUM, JEWEL MAY 18TH, 1002.

  “You look so beautiful,” Sean said with a wide smile on his face.

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” said the gorgeous red headed woman before him, performing a slight curtsey, as much as she could do in her condition.

  “You don’t need to do that,” he said with a laugh, taking hold of the hand of his wife and helping her to straighten out. Her other hand went to her back and she let out a slight groan. “See.”

  Jennifer stood up straight as she pressed her hand into the small of her back, then giggled as Sean leaned down and kissed her. “This is how I got into this mess in the first place,” she said with a giggle.

  Sean smiled and looked around for a moment. They were on the rooftop landing platform of the Grande Theater in Capitulum, there to see the newest play to be performed by the Capital Theatrical Troop. It was opening night, Jennifer had been complaining about being cooped up in the palace, and it was traditional for the Imperial family to make opening night if they were able.

  The rooftop landing platform was empty except for his aircar and the escorts. His security detail, a full twenty strong, was gathered around, keeping a little bit of distance so their principals could have some privacy. Further out was a cordon of troops, tonight soldiers from the Imperial Guard Division, while overhead flew a half dozen stingships. Sean wondered if this much security was really needed, but he wasn’t about to have an argument with his Chief of Detail.

  “You are so beautiful tonight,” he told Jennifer again.

  “You’ve already told me,” said Jennifer with a smile.

  “Your beauty permits me no other thoughts.”

  “Flatterer.”

  Sean offered his arm, and she placed a gloved hand on his forearm. He looked her over once again before walking toward the lift. Jennifer was wearing a blue gown that set off her red hair perfectly, and an Emperor’s ransom in jewels. Her own natural beauty was accentuated by the clothing and baubles she wore, and Sean was sure she would turn every head in the theater when they entered. He was clothed in the dress uniform of a Fleet officer, the eight stars of the Emperor upon his shoulder boards.

  While both wore what looked like ordinary clothing, both panoplies were anything but. The cloth itself, for all its apparent soft silkiness, was actually impact armor that could absorb the force of a moderate velocity pellet, while affording a few second’s protection from most hand held laser weapons. The electronics systems of both suits could spoof most tracking weapons on activation, or even cause them to fade into the background. They cost more than the suits of the heavy infantry who stood on the roof.

  “I’m really looking forward to this,” said Jennifer, nodding toward the open doors of the lift, where a trio of the security detail already waited. “I’ve always
loved the books.”

  The lift delivered them to the balcony section of the enormous theater, which was already packed to capacity, with over forty thousand people in their seats. The private boxes of the three balconies were also packed, and those were the first to notice Sean and Jennifer stepping into the Emperor’s box.

  Some polite applause started in a few of the private boxes, and that attracted the attention of more of the patrons, until everyone was standing, looking at their box and clapping.

  Of course I’ve just won a victory, so they love me, thought Sean, smiling and waving. And then they’ll turn around and boo me if we suffer another defeat. But I‘ll take the adulation while it’s offered.

  The light began to dim in the theater, a sign that the curtain was soon to rise. Sean checked the time on his implant, and noted that the curtain should have gone up five minutes before. But they couldn’t very well raise the curtain before the most important VIP was in the house. Some days it was good to be Emperor.

  * * *

  Angel hung in the air, his back to the glass wall of the small skyscraper, no more than two hundred floors. He was at the hundredth floor, the stealth systems on his suit set to blend him in with the reflective glass behind him. To anyone looking his way he would appear part of that glass that reflected the lights of the city. A couple of probes led from his suit to the glass, dumping most of his excess heat and making his infrared signature as small as possible.

  There were heavy infantry suits down there on that rooftop. A normal heavy suit ran about a million imperials, and he was sure these cost a bit more. His own suit ran just over twenty million imperials, and incorporated the best technology available anywhere. It was not twenty times more effective that those heavy suits. It was more like eight times, based on the laws of diminishing returns.

  He was sure the targets were in some kind of protective gear as well. His weapon could probably penetrate whatever they wore. However, in his profession it paid to make no assumptions, and he thought head shots would be the most effective. The man first, then the woman, since he was the priority target.