Second Front
Date: 2015-07-31T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: The Cacas have been driven out of human space, or at least the space that the Empire knows of. On the other side of the Ca'cadasan Empire another power fights against the huge aliens. A mission has been sent to contact this other power, to find an ally against the Cacas. Three enormous exploration vessels, led by Commodore Natasha Sung, travel the thirty thousand light years to the home of this power. What they find is a shock. A power that has been fighting the Cacas for decades, a seemingly ideal partner in the war. But this power holds a dark secret, one which may sabotage the alliance befo
Publisher: Catbrother Publishing

Exodus: Empires at War:

Book 9:

Second Front.

by

Doug Dandridge

Copyright © 2015 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.

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

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to all of the great writers I have met over the last three years, including Kevin J. Anderson, David Farland, Eric Flint, Jody Lynn Nye, and Michael Z Williamson.  I have learned something from all of you, and am proud to have gotten to know each and every one of you.

Books by Doug Dandridge

Doug Dandridge’s Author Page at Amazon

Science Fiction

The Exodus Series

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 4: the Long Fall.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 5: Ranger

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 6: The Day of Battle

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike:

Exodus: Empires at War Book 8: Soldiers

Exodus: Tales of the Empire: Exploration Command:

Exodus: Machine Wars: Book 1: Supernova.

The Deep Dark Well Series

The Deep Dark Well

To Well and Back

Deeper and Darker

Others

The Shadows of the Multiverse

Diamonds in the Sand

The Scorpion

Afterlife

We Are Death, Come for You

Five By Five 3: Target Zone:

Fantasy

The Refuge Series

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

Refuge: Book 3: The Legions

Refuge: Book 4: Kurt’s Quest:

Doppelganger: A Novel of Refuge

Others

The Hunger

Daemon

Aura

Marathon

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Contact me at BrotherofCats@gmail.com

Follow my Blog at http://dougdandridge.com

Follow me at @BrotherofCats

Acknowledgements  I would like to thank all of my fans, especially those who sent emails or commented on blogs about how much they enjoyed the first four books of this series.  Your kind words gave me the impetus to continue through the not so kind words left in some reviews.  And special thanks to Ruth de Jauregui, who helped with the covers on all of the Exodus series.  Her changes improved all of the covers.

Cast of Characters

The Capital

Emperor Sean Ogden Lee Romanov:  Born Year 971 (31 years old).  Fifth child and the third son of the late Emperor Augustine Romanov.

Empress Jennifer Conway Romanov:  Sean’s Wife and Physician.

Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom:  Chief of Naval Operations.

Field Marshal Betty Parker:  Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps

Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri:  Army Chief of Staff.

Prime Minister Countess Haruko Kawasaki.

Ekaterina Sergiov:  Chief of Imperial Intelligence Agency.

Countess Esmeralda Zhee: Member of the Lords’ Opposition Party.

Baron Emile von Hausser Schmidt: Leader of the House of Lords.

Capital Police Lieutenant and Imperial Naval Captain Ishuhi Rykio:  Former Naval Commando.

Fiona Ogden Lee Romanov:  Sean’s older sister.

Samantha Ogden Lee:  Sean’s cousin and regent.

Angel Sergio Martinez:  Former Naval Commando, and now assassin known as The Angel of Death.

The Fleet

Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda:  Admiral in command of Hyper VII battle force.

Grand Fleet Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski:  Commander: Battle Fleet.

Fleet Admiral Jerry Kelvin: Commander, New Moscow System Force.

Commodore Sheila Stepanowski:  Task Force Leader, New Moscow Fleet.

Captain Vladimir Schmidt:  Captain, HICS (His Imperial Czar’s Ship) Sevastopol.

Commodore Mary Innocent:  Sean’s Intelligence Officer.

Commodore Natasha Sung:  Commanding Officer, exploration mission to the far side of Ca’cadasan Space.  HIMS Nina.

Fleet Admiral Theodosius Glaven:  Fleet Second in command, Fenri Front.

Lt. Commander Marko Fujardo:  Tacitcal Officer, HIMS Nina.

Major Saul Briggs:  Marine Commander, HIMS Nina.

Commander Gauroi Laaksonen:  Exec, HIMS Nina.

Lt. Atarata Parata:  Sensor Officer, HIMS Nina.

Lt. Commander Rosaro Picard:  Com Officer, HIMS Nina.

Captain Markus Palachi:  Captain, HIMS Santa Maria.

Commander Millie van Dussel:  Exec, HIMS Pinta.

Captain Kali Gadhavi:  Captain, HIMS Pinta.

Commander Alexandru Ionesco:  Chief Engineer, HIMS Nina.

Lt. Commander Hrrssai Lonlilo:  Gryphon Planetologist, HIMS Nina.

Marine Platoon Sergeant Tia’lash:  Phlistaran Marine Sergeant, HIMS Nina.

Commander Saul Benoit:  Biologist, HIMS Nina.

Captain Jinghua Chou:  Inertialess Fighter Wing Commander.

Spacer Mzzarat Naranta:  Klassekian Com Tech.

Vice Admiral Connie Wallace:  Admiral, Flagship Prince Henry.

Imperial Army

Cornelius Walborski:  Ranger Captain and two time holder of the Imperial Medal of Heroism.

General Lucius Arbuckle:  Commander, Fifteenth Army.

Lieutenant General Samuel Baggett:  Heavy Infantry Corps Commander,

First Sergeant Renhard Fujardo:  Ranger Company Sergeant.

Sergeant Slater: Ranger.

Sergeant Timothy Slater:  Ranger Squad Leader.

Staff Sergeant Mika Jefferson:  Superjag Handler.

Captain Nagano:  Ranger Company Commander.

Klavarta

Marion Pallion: American, Chairwoman of the Klavarta Supreme Council.

Dennis Coleman:  Director of Production, Klavarta Supreme Council.

Kamiko Hayashi:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Willard Smyth:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Chamai Bhandawa:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Gokben Tarhan:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Ivan Ikanov:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Jiang Zhou:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Graca Casimiro:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Dorothee Chevalier:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Rajani Dasgupta:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Tamati Motlap:  Klavarta Supreme Council.

Godfrey Jernigan:  Former Assistant Secretary General of the World Government of Earth.

Thallia Thrann:  Klavarta Underdirector of Interspecies Relations.

Slardra:  Klavarta female Alpha and Task Group Commander.

Alpha Admiral Manstara:  Second in Command of Klavarta Home Fleet.

Captain Tushara:  Council Guard Captain.

Ca’cadasans

Great Admiral Jarrassand’ra Kiritopath:  Commander, New Moscow Relief Force.

Great Admiral the Superior Lord Jarrashinata Karzott:  Commander, Klavarta Front.

Others

Devera Walborski:  Warrant Officer Medic and the wife of Cornelius.

Rebecca Walborski:  Sean and Devera’s adopted daughter.

Dr. Kenji Guatarrez:  Wormhole scientist.

Timeline

2151 AD  Hiro Yamamoto discovers subspace portal generator.  Opens subspace dimension to transport of human colonists.

2160 AD  Alpha Centauri B4 colony established.

2173 AD  Tau Ceti III colony established.

2208 AD  Humanity has spread to eight inhabitable systems within 20 light years of Sol.

2250 AD  12 million humans living outside of the solar system.

2254 AD  First contact with Ca’cadasans on Epsilon Iridani V.  Human colony destroyed without warning or trace.  Incoming ship discovers colony destroyed and runs back to human space with news.

2256 AD  Human colony at Altair V attacked and destroyed.

2257 AD  United Solar System Fleet established to fight alien threat.

2260 AD  Battle of Tau Ceti, humans meet Ca’cadasans with a five to one advantage in mass and are handily defeated.

2261 AD  Construction started on the six Exodus ships to allow some of humanity to make it to safety outside of human space.

2264 AD  Ca’cadasans, having destroyed all of humanity’s colonies, attack the solar system in force. Five completed Exodus ships attempt to leave the system under heavy escort.  Two are destroyed before they can make it into subspace.  Two enter subspace with pursuit, while Exodus III makes a clean breakaway into subspace.

2264 - 3260 AD  The Long Voyage.  With several fueling stops and explorations, Exodus III travels along the galactic rim and toward the core, traversing 9,760 light years from Sol.

3261 AD  Supersystem discovered, along with remains of ancient civilization that had once owned it.  First human colony founded on Jewel.  Year 1 of New Human Empire.

3268 AD (Year 8)  Humans make contact with traveling merchant ship from Elysium Empire. Discover thriving civilizations that sprung from the ancient civilization that used to inhabit the Supersystem.

3361 AD (Year 100)  Population 2,000,000+.  Establishment of the Fleet.

3460 AD (Year 199)  Beginning of Terraforming projects around super system.

3573 to 3579 AD (Year 312 to 318)  First Gardasian War, human victory.

3589 to 3592 AD (Year 328 to 331)  Second Gardasian War, human victory, Gardasian race absorbed into human empire.

3619 to 3621 AD (Year 358 to 361)  First Markanan War, human victory.

3669 to 3676 AD (Year 408 to 415)  Second Markanan War, human victory, Markanans absorbed into human empire.

3696 to 3698 AD (Year 435 to 437)  Kiniman War, Kiniman race absorbed into the human empire.

3724 to 3733 AD (Year 463 to 472)  First Crakastan War, human victory.

3744 to 3762 AD (Year 483 to 501)  First Lasharan War, human victory.

3772 to 3784 AD (Year 511 to 523)  Second Lasharan War, human victory.

3797 to 3801 AD (Year 536 to 540)  First Margravi War, human victory.

3803 to 3808 AD (Year 542 to 547)  War of Revolt, Imperial Victory, 150 million humans leave Empire to found Republic of Mankind.

3809 to 3814 AD (Year 548 to 553)  Civil War, Constance the Great triumphs over Cassius the Terrible (II).

3815 AD (Year 554)  New Constitution establishes Constitutional Monarchy.  (Bill of Freedoms added in Year 607).

3841 to 3846 AD (Year 585 to 590).  Machine Revolt.  Human built autonomous robots rebel against humanity.  Billions die before the revolt is stopped, Man in the Loop Law enacted.

3848 to 3853 AD (Year 587 to 592).  Second Crakastan War, human victory.

3873 to 3876 AD (Year 612 to 615)  Third Cracastan War, human victory.

3892 to 3897 AD (Year 631 to 635)  Second Margravi War, human victory, ends with alliance of Margravi and Klashak with human empire.

3913 to 3936 AD (Year 652 to 673)  First Galactic War (against Lashar, Crakasta and Fenri).

3984 AD (Year 723)  Donut Project approved and construction planning begins.

3984 to 4000 AD (Year 723 to 739)  Elysium War, marginal human victory.

4007 to 4008 AD (Year 746 to 747)  War of Man, humanity (Imperium) against humanity (Republic).  Political pressures bring an end to short, sharp war.

4009 to 4114 AD (Year 748 to 853)  The Century of Peace.  Empire involved in no extra empire or border hostilities.

4065 AD (Year 804)  Dissidents from New Terra Republic found the Grand Duchy of New Moscow.

4114 to 4131 AD (Year 853 to 870)  Second Galactic War, Elysium, Lashar and Fenri against Empire, New Terra and Margrave/Klashak, human victory.

4167 to 4180 AD (Year 906 to 921)  Third Galactic War, humanity’s victory.

4206 to 4216 AD (Year 945 to 955)  Klang Consortium attacks New Moscow.  Empire of Terra and Republic of New Terra come in on New Moscow’s side.

4256 AD (Year 985)  Donut Generates first working wormhole gate.

4261 AD (Year 1000)  Empire celebrates 1000 years of existence and growth.  January 1, 1000 local Galactic calendar.

March 15th, 1000, Ca’cadasan invasion of Empire begins in earnest with the attack on Sestius and Massadara.

March 29-April 5th 1000, Sean leads rescue mission to Sestius.

April 27th, 1000.  Sean  crowned in Capitulum.

May 26th, 1000.  Conundrum system taken by the Cacas.

June 7th, 1000.  Klassekians discovered by Exploration Command.

December 27th, 1000.  Exploration missions launched to other side of Ca’cadasan Empire, Galactic Core and Greater Magellanic Cloud.

December 30th 1000 through January 2nd, 1001.  Cacas wiped out the planets Cimmeria and Aquilonia, killing over seven billion humans.

January 10th,1001.  Human counter strike takes out Caca station in Massadara space.

May 28th, 1001.  Crakistan Empire joins the Alliance against the Cacas.

July 6th, 1001.  Imperial Human forces attacks the Lasharan Homeworld.

August 30th, 1001.  New Terran Empire attacks into Fenri Space.

September 18th, 1001.  Combined New Terran Republic/Crakistan Empire force defeats Ca’cadasan force in the Xenia system.

November 18th-19th, 1001.  Battle of Congreeve.  New Terran Empire Fleet traps Ca’cadasan Fleet in an ambush and savages them.

November 27-28th, 1001.  Ca’cadasan commando force strikes at Elysium Home World and the Donut.

December 12th, 1001.  Sean and Jennifer wed, and Shape Shifters attempt assassination of the couple.

January 8-9th, 1002.  Imperial Fleet defeats Ca’cadasan forces in Imperial Space.

February 10th, 1002.  Renegade Machines are discovered in extra-Imperial space.

April 9th, 1002:  New Terran Empire invades New Moscow to rescue the last of their citizens.

The Story So Far

In 2254 the human species had spread to eight star systems after the discovery of the Subspace drive, allowing humankind to achieve pseudospeeds of over eleven times the speed of light.  That was the year the human species first encountered the long lived Ca’cadasans, three meter tall horned carnivores whose empire had been expanding for thousands of years.  That was the year the aliens attacked the Epsilon Iridani V colony.  When the heir to their imperial throne was killed after the colony had surrendered, the Emperor ordered the complete extermination of the human species.  After a short, sharp war, humanity had no other option than to try and flee the killer aliens.  The six Exodus ships were built, each capable of moving fifty thousand humans in cryostasis, along with all the knowledge of the human species.  One ship is known to have gotten away through subspace, a dimension through which the more advanced hyperspace faring Ca’cadasans are not prepared to follow.  Four generations of crew navigated the Exodus III over ten thousand light years in a thousand years, reestablishing humanity in a system of eight stars in orbit around a black hole, the Supersystem.  Once the home of an extinct species that had helped raise most of the intelligent races of the area to technical civilizations, it was also the perfect region for the newcomers.  Over the next thousand years the New Terran Empire fights, wins and expands in a number of wars, improving their technology at breakneck speed, becoming the dominant military power of the region.  Humanity also improves its genome, becoming stronger, faster and smarter, and seemed destined to rule the Perseus Arm, given time.

On the thousand year anniversary of the empire, Emperor Augustine I is having prophetic dreams, the gift and curse of his line.  He has seen the ancient enemy returning, finding the human species disunited in its three governments, and utterly destroying them.  Augustine has fought to expand the military, running into obstructionism from the Lords House of Parliament.  It is an uphill battle in the Constitutional Monarchy the Empire has become.  Meanwhile, the Donut, a century long engineering project, is nearing completion.  The enormous station, built as a ring around a black hole, and using the swirling gravitational energy to generate wormholes, has begun to make the many portals that will be used to eventually link the Empire.  And spies have infested the Empire, a race of shape shifters who make most security measures moot, adding sabotage and espionage to the problems facing the Emperor.

Sean Ogden Lee Romanov, the third son of the Emperor, is a serving naval officer on a battleship in a relatively quiet sector, with no thoughts of ever assuming the throne.  He was a mediocre officer, despite his superior intelligence.  With two brothers ahead of him in the succession, and a still young father, the throne seems like the least his worries.  By this time the Ca’cadasans have made contact with some of the enemies of the Empire, and sent the information back to their leaders.  The ancient enemy has been found, and can now be eliminated.  Ships begin to disappear in Sector IV, and sightings are made of vessels that fit no known description.  Many people refuse to believe these are the Ca’cadasans, and some think that Empire must have fallen in the near past.  The Emperor continues to try to rally support for increasing the size of the human military, while Parliament fights him on the economic effects of such a move, and alien powers protest that the humans are planning territorial expansion.

There is an attempted assassination attempt on Sean, and a successful attempt on the Emperor and his two older sons during a tour of the Donut.  The assassin is an officer of the Imperial Protection Detail, causing distrust to grow among the agencies charged with the security of the Empire.  The same day as the assassination, the Leader of the House of Lords is killed in his home.  Sean is now the heir to the Empire, and the man who must be seated as soon as possible on the throne, but he is almost a week’s one way com range from the capital.

The Ca’cadasans now attack, sending large fleets into several industrial or base systems, and smaller forces to many other stars.  The Massadara system, a major Imperial base, is one of the systems attacked.  Sean is serving on one of the battleships that happens to be in that system, and is aboard the vessel as it heads into combat with the enemy.  Word comes to the system that Sean is the uncrowned Emperor, and his ship, against his protests, is ordered out of combat.  His ship, the Sergiov, heads out of the system before the main battle begins, a small Ca’cadasan force on its heels.  The main battle is joined, and, though it inflicts casualties on the Ca’cadasan fleet that is only about a decade ahead in technology, it is defeated, and the system falls.

The Sergiov is battered by the enemy, and Sean is rescued from the ship by Captain Mei Lei and her hyper VII battle cruiser.  The battle cruiser fights its way out of the system with the help of Commander Bryce Suttler’s stealth/attack ship, and, along with Commander Maurice von Rittersdorf and his destroyer, starts on the voyage to get Sean back to the capital and the throne.  The Ca’cadasans track the two vessels, and Sean escapes on the destroyer while Mei sacrifices her ship in a battle with the Ca’cadasan supercruisers.  The battle cruiser Jean de Arc falls out of hyperspace in a catastrophic translation, a low survivability event, but nonetheless manages to survive and starts the long journey home.

Rear Admiral Mara Montgomery is dispatched with her scout force to locate Sean and get him back to the capital, while von Rittersdorf plays hide and seek against the Ca’cadasans, trying to get the unseated Emperor to safety.  Von Rittersdorf catches one of the much larger Ca’cadasan ships in a brilliant ambush which destroys the enemy ship, while causing severe damage to his own.  Montgomery’s task force enters the system, and she dispatches the other two supercruisers, then takes the Emperor aboard her flagship.  Von Rittersdorf begins the long journey home in his crippled ship with escorts.  Sean learns that one of the nearby systems is under siege and, against the protests of the Admiral, orders her to take her ships to break that siege and evacuate the colonists on the frontier world.  Meanwhile, the Leader of the House of Lords advances plans to put an Imperial Cousin on the throne while the true heir’s whereabouts is unknown.  The Ca’cadasans invade and take the kingdom of New Moscow, and make serious inroads into the New Terran Republic, the sister governments to the Empire.

On Sestius IV Brevet Brigadier General Samuel Baggett fights the landing of the Ca’cadasans with his mixed command.  Farmer and ex-hunter Cornelius Walborski deserts the militia to get his pregnant wife to safety.  Though bleeding the enemy, Baggett is forced to fall back into the wilderness before the enemy ground warriors.  Walborski’s son is born, but his wife is killed while they are running from the aliens.  The farmer goes mad, and stalks the jungle with the skills he had learned as an assistant hunt master, killing many aliens in the jungle.  He meets the legendary Preacher of special ops fame, now a retired Ranger and current minister on the planet.

Montgomery’s task force takes the system and the planet, and evacuates all those that want to leave, just before a larger enemy force enters the system and forces it to flee.  Sean meets Dr. Jennifer Conway, who has lost her own fiancé’ in the invasion, and falls in love with her.  The scout force fights a running battle back to Conundrum base, rescued at the last moment by the fleet of Duke Taelis Mgonda.  Von Rittersdorf makes it to safety, while Mei Lei and her crew are rescued from hyper by another battle cruiser.  The XO of the Jean de Arc, Xavier Jackson, falls out of hyper while trying to rescue some crew who could not get off the ship.  Surviving the translation, he is rescued by beings from legend, the Ancients that everyone assumes are extinct.

On the Donut it is discovered that an ancient race known as the Yugalyth, another creature from legend, capable of changing its very body form over a period of days and duplicating any creature, is at large.  A Yugalyth agent imitates Dr. Lucille Yu, the station Director, and attempts to destroy the huge construct.  Dr. Yu uses quantum teleportation, an experimental technique that only succeeds in moving about half the material being teleported to its target, to teleport negative matter to destroy the bomb the creature put on the station attitude control board.  The new enemy is discovered, one which originates in the realm of the Empire’s close ally, Elysium.

The Knockermen, a reptilian race in the Elysium Empire, revolt against the dominant Brakakak.  The Brakakak eventually curb the revolt, but are forced to commit their entire fleet to searching out the rebels and breaking the rebellion.  The leader of Elysium and his family are forced to take refuge with the Terrans during the battle of the capital.

Sean comes back to the Supersystem by the wormhole gates that are now being deployed through Imperial space.  Chief of Naval Operations Gabriel Lenkowski gathers a fleet that transports Sean to the capital planet, where, with a large force of Marines, he lands during the coronation ceremony and stops the Lords from crowning his cousin.  Sean is now Emperor, Commander and Chief of the Imperial Military, and, given his wartime powers, the most powerful Monarch in a century.  His companions go off to other commands; Mei Lei to a battle cruiser squadron, one equipped with new wormhole launched weapons; von Rittersdorf to lead a new destroyer squadron; and Baggett to command of a heavy infantry brigade.  Cornelius Walborski, on the recommendation of Preacher, joins the Imperial Army with hopes of being augmented and becoming a Ranger.

The Ca’cadasans hit Conundrum, the HQ of Sector IV, hours after Sean jumps through the wormhole from there.  They take the system, and land troops to complete the conquest of the planet.  Sean is forced to engage in a hit and run war against an enemy that is still more advanced, and more powerful, than his own fleet.  He orders his units to refuse combat when possible, and only to fight when they can inflict maximum damage on the enemy.  Q-ships, militarized merchant vessels with quantum teleporters capable of sending antimatter into the interior of an enemy ship, bait and destroy Ca’cadasan raiders.  The Lords go on the warpath against Sean, demanding that he commit his fleet to a major battle.  His prophetic dreams indicate that one of the core worlds, the heavily populated industrial planets at the heart of the Empire, is a target.  But the dream does not tell him when.

Wormhole gates are dropped in occupied systems, then maneuvered to planetfall, allowing ground forces to insert.  This is done on most of the occupied worlds, allowing the units to engage the aliens in Guerilla warfare.  Preacher leads a Ranger brigade against the Ca’cadasans on the surface of Conundrum, and the campaign forces the enemy off the planet.  The Lasharans, religious fanatics, are again attacking the frontiers of the Empire, and Baggett’s unit, as part of a heavy infantry corps, is sent to take their home planet and occupy their primary temple, breaking their will.

The Ca’cadasans strike at the Cimmeria system, utterly obliterating the two inhabited industrial worlds located there.  Sean retaliates by sending forces through wormholes to strike behind the main enemy fleet and destroy their bases.  The Fenri Empire, old enemies of the humans, sign an alliance with the Ca’cadasans, and the New Terran Empire launches a spoiling attack on those aliens.  The logical beings of the Crakista Empire, seeing the Ca’cadasans as the greater threat, join the human cause, ordering their military to offer all possible aid to the humans.  Things are beginning to look up until the Ca’cadasans launch yet another assault, almost overrunning all of Sector IV.

Sean and Jennifer become lovers, a fact taken advantage of by the Yugalyth agents, who kidnap her and threaten to kill her if Sean does not place himself in their hands.  Sean agrees, and has himself equipped with a pair of small wormholes that allow him to kill the kidnappers when they think they have him in their power.

Cornelius completes Ranger school, finds a new love himself, and is assigned to the planet Azure, one of the deadliest in the Empire.  He and his men stalk the Ca’cadasans through a jungle that is an enemy to both, and encounters a new client race of the Ca’cadasans, the supremely competent hunters called Maurids.  Cornelius saves and is saved by a young girl, Rebecca, and completes the mission his company couldn’t, destroying a Ca’cadasan headquarters.  He returns to the capital system again a hero, one of the few to win the Imperial Medal of Heroism twice.  He marries, and gains a new mom for his baby son, and his adopted daughter, Rebecca.

Sean, in need of a victory, plans an ambush for the Ca’cadasan fleet in the Congreeve system, a frontier world made up to look like an industrial developing planet.  The Cacas, using the Knockermen, send in a strike force to take out the Donut.  And the Empire sends in a strike against the Fenri Empire, the new ally of the Ca’cadasans.  Cornelius attends Officer Candidate School and is well on his way to becoming an officer, while the Opposition Party of the Lords continues to cause trouble for the Emperor, threatening a No Confidence Vote in Parliament.

The strike into Fenri space is a success, taking the heart out of their fleet and capturing several of their industrial planets, sending the small mammalians into a frenzy.  The Fenri still have some power in their fleet, and organize an offensive that kicks the NTE naval force out of their space, stranding Baggett and his soldiers on the surface of one of the planets.

The Ca’cadasan strike force makes it to Elysium space, commandeers a Brakakak light cruiser, and takes the station in orbit around that Empire’s capital world.  The Cacas jump through the wormhole to the Donut, bringing thousands of troops and four Quarkium devices, intending to destroy the station.  The Knockermen destroy the Brakakak station with the device that they were given by the huge aliens.  And Walborski, heading through the Donut on a short leave to see his wife and children, finds himself involved in another battle.

Sean lures the Ca’cadasan main fleet into battle, springing his ambush, and ravaging the enemy fleet.  They turn into a tougher opponent that he planned on, and some of the enemy fleet escapes to head back to their base, leaving the Imperial fleet with a lesser victory than wanted, and higher casualties than expected.

Cornelius organizes a team to keep the Cacas from exploding one of their devices on the Donut, and only one of the bombs is detonated.  The station, though damaged, survives.  Meanwhile, Baggett’s force in Fenri space resist the ground assault with heavy casualties, until relieved by the Fleet, and the Fenri are all but knocked out of the war.  Natasha Sung is meanwhile closing in on her goal, the aliens who are also fighting the enemy at the other side of their empire.

The alliance fleet reorganizes and prepares to attack the Cacas, while they are still reeling from their defeat.  Using the cover of a supernova explosion, which covers the resonances of ships transiting hyperspace, Sean launched a multi-winged assault on the remaining Ca’cadasan forces in the Empire.  The fleets strike without warning, bringing the Cacas to battle and all but annihilating their forces.  The Caca commander orders his remaining ships to get away as they can, then is incapacitated during the escape.  The Great Admiral’s second in command does the unthinkable and surrenders the remaining fleet.

The Emperor discovers that about a billion New Moscow citizens are being held in the former Kingdom of New Moscow, including over seven hundred million on the homeworld.  The Cacas are processing the humans for their protein, and Sean orders their rescue at all costs.   A combined New Terran Empire, New Terran Republic and Crakista fleet invades the space of New Moscow, intent on rescuing the prisoners.  The main concern is that the Cacas will kill their captives before the ground forces can rescue them.  Using their wormhole technology, the Empire is able to insert a heavy corps and numerous special ops teams, including a company led by Cornelius Walborski, to storm the camps and rescue the hundreds of millions of prisoners.

The prisoners are freed, and the Empire starts to evacuate them through wormholes, while a massive Caca fleet is tracked on the way to the system, due to arrive well before the main Imperial force.  The Fenri, with Ca’cadasan help, strike at the Imperial force invading their space, and inflict a significant defeat on them, sidetracking the invasion force and compelling the Imperials to go back on the defensive so they can regroup.

Prologue

GALACTIC SPACE: April 8th, 1002.

We’re almost there, thought Commodore Natasha Sung, looking at the holo that showed the local region.  Local, of course, was a relative term.  Within that three hundred light year radius sphere that surrounded her three explorers were millions of stars.  Some were highlighted as belonging to some civilization or other, based on either the information from their new friends, the Grilyon, or energy emissions they had picked up themselves.  And there was no telling how many preindustrial civilizations there were out there.

Two hundred and fifty light years to rimward was the supposed boundary of Ca’cadasan Empire.  There was no telling just how accurate that border was, since the Cacas were an expanding Empire.  Hell, they had been an expanding Empire for over ten thousand years, their borders always changing.  The Grilyon had been fighting with them for the last fifty years, mostly the hit and run style of their race.  Still, it had slowed the expansion of the large aliens.

And ahead, along the Sagittarian Arm, was the power they had come to see.  An empire already at war with the Cacas, who had been giving the aggressive aliens all they could handle along their border with them.

“I wish we knew more about these people,” said Commander Gauroi Laaksonen, her Exec on the Nina.  “Even our new friends didn’t seem to have any information on the Overlords, as they called them.  Only the common soldiers that formed their military.”

That part had bothered her as well.  Supposedly no one in this region had met the species that ruled this Empire.  The Grilyon didn’t even know the name of the Empire, much less the ruling species.  All they knew was that the Klavarta, the warriors of the Empire, were not they.  They had a good description of those warriors, who they had clashed with several times in the past, and fought beside much more recently, mostly by accident, since no one really liked or trusted them.  But no one had ever seen the rulers, who the Klavarta were very emphatic were not they.

“Well, we’ll find out all we need to know in another two hundred light years or so,” she answered the officer.  “We need to be cautious, since they’re sure to have seen nothing like us.  If they mistake our ships for invaders, we might have more trouble than we can handle.”

The Nina, along with her sisters, Pinta and Santa Maria, were large ships, all massing just under thirty-one million tons, and they were armed as heavily as a fifteen million ton battleship.  But they were not battleships, they lacked the heavy armor and most importantly the acceleration of a warship.  They could accelerate at just over a hundred gravities, as compared to the almost five hundred gravities for a standard battleship.  They were travelling in hyper VII, as high a dimension as was possible.  The ships had been made for the long haul, getting into VII, then accelerating up to point nine five light and coasting through from months to years.

Even if they had been warships, there were only the three of them, and the fleets battling it out in this space had to have been titanic, at least the size of the forces engaged in her own Empire.  Each of her ships carried six of the destroyer sized hyper VI explorers, eighteen ships that had been intended for other explorations during a voyage.  They were about as heavily armed as a frigate, and capable of the same acceleration as a military class warship.  Their one flaw was their inability to reach into hyper VII, which the Commodore now thought a criminal lack of forethought.

“We’re picking up hyper emissions, ma’am,” said Lieutenant SG Atarata Parata, the Sensor Officer.  “Just at the edge of detection range.”

The Commodore extreme zoomed the central holo to a close up of the region around them, about a light year out, and four clusters of ships appeared, three of them with a total of five vessels, one, directly ahead, with seven.  The other three groups were arrayed to the sides, about sixty degrees from each other, and all about a light year away.  They can’t be very large for us to have detected them further out, thought the Commodore.

“So, they have us boxed in,” said Fujardo, trying to keep his voice steady, and failing.

Yep, thought Natasha.  And if they’re Cacas, we’re dead.  She was not about to surrender her ships to Ca’cadasans, so they could be interrogated, then turned into rations.  She had seen the newsflashes from Republic space, of the camps and the way the Cacas treated their human prisoners.  And she couldn’t afford to let them have any of the technology on her ship to add to their own tech base.

“We’re starting to get a profile on the emissions from those ships,” stated Parata, her own voice, though still strained, showing a hint of relief.  “Whatever they are, they don’t appear to be Ca’cadasan ships.  Emission patterns, unknown.”

Which doesn’t mean they’re friendly, thought the Commodore.  Only that they’re not the primary foe of my race.

“Ships are decelerating,” called out Fujardo.  “I think they’re trying to match velocities with us.”

And we can probably blow right past them at our current velocity, thought Sung.  Her ships couldn’t accelerate worth a damn, another flaw that would have to be addressed on future vessels.  But they could get up to as high a velocity as any warship.  Actually, slightly higher, as at the moment all three vessels were doing point nine five eight light in the VII dimension.  That is, if they don’t decide to put some weapons in our path.  Then we’re easy to hit targets, with our own velocity providing the energy for a kinetic kill.

“Try to reach them by grav pulse,” she ordered Lt. Commander Rosaro Picard, the Com Officer.  “Let them know who we are, and what are our intentions.”

“Not sure how long it will take to establish a com protocol,” said Picard, working his board.

“And as soon as you send out that first signal, contact the other ships.  I want us at full decel as soon as everyone is prepared.”

We’re here to meet someone, and these seem technologically advanced enough to be our people.  So we might as well act friendly until we know otherwise.  But..

“Mr. Fujardo.  I want all weapons powered up and tubes loaded.  I hope they’re friendly, but I don’t want to take any stupid chances.”

“We’re getting a pulse back,” said Picard, wide eyes looking back at her.

“Can you understand it?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Unless I’m greatly mistaken, their sending their pulse in the standard code of Old Earth.”

Chapter One

Life is neither good or evil, but only a place for good and evil.

Marcus Aurelius.

CA’CADASAN SPACE  APRIL 8TH, 1002.

“My, Lord,” said the bowing officer, his upper hands grasping the base of his horns while his lower arms crossed over his chest in an aspect of absolute obeisance.

Great Admiral the Superior Lord Jarrashinata Karzott glared down at the officer as if he were looking down on the vermin of his home world.  While the male was giving the proper display of respect to one of his stature, with the double advantage of supreme military and civil rank, being as he was a cousin to the Emperor, there was something about the aspect of the Cacada he did not like.  More than just the general fear of a subordinate reporting to the exalted presence of his supreme commander.  The fear of someone who was afraid that the news he was about to bring would cause him great pain, or even death.

“Out with it,” said the Great Admiral, who had taken command of the Front weeks before on the orders of the Emperor.  “I do not punish messengers merely because of the news they bring.”

The male glanced up at the Great Admiral as if he wasn’t quite sure to make of the words. After all, the last commander was quick to punish anyone who brought news he didn’t want to hear.  Which was why on occasions important facts were withheld from him.

“The Klavarta have taken the H’lada system, my Lord,” blurted out the male, as if giving the information quickly might mitigate the response.

“When?” growled the Great Admiral, thinking of what little he knew about that system.  It was one of the linchpins of his defensive front, and a major staging area for launching forces into the flank of the enemy Empire.  It contained shipyards, depots, even rest and recreation facilities for his forces.  And it was fifty light years behind what he had assumed were the lines, safe from enemy attack.  But now it seemed not safe enough.

“We just received word from the courier minutes ago, my Lord,” stammered the male.  “It took that ship twenty-five days to get here.”

So, about fourteen hundred light years, thought the Great Admiral, looking away from the male and ordering the chamber holo to show him his command area with a thought.  The Front stretched almost four thousand light years from rimward to coreward, and over two thousand from the top to the bottom of the galactic disc.  Essentially, there was no way to blockade that much space.  The only possible defense was to have scattered strong points, systems with heavy defenses and a strong fleet presence.  And to patrol the regions in between.

“How did we lose that system?”

“From the records the courier brought, my Lord, the same way they have taken all of the other systems they have assaulted.  With overwhelming numbers.”

The Great Admiral turned and stomped away, trying to calm himself down before he actually hurt the messenger, something he didn’t want to do, lest others be afraid to give him information he was sure not to like.

They are like vermin, he thought of the Klavarta.  They reproduced at an unbelievable rate, and unlike most vermin they carried a fearsome sting.

How in the hell did we get ourselves in such a situation, thought the Great Admiral, plopping down in his chair and gesturing for the messenger to leave, then motioned for one of his serving slaves, a moderate sized radially symmetrical mammalian, to bring him a drink.  He ran over the situation in his mind, recalling the reports he had read, the videos he had watched.

The Empire had been expanding in this direction, down the Sagittarian arm, as they always had, overrunning other civilizations with a battle or two, then taking them into the Empire.  When they met another expanding species, always still in the early stages of their growth as a power, it took some more battles, but in no instance had the fight lasted longer than two or three years.  The Ca’cadasan Empire was fulfilling its destiny, and it looked like in two or three thousand more years of steady expansion they would truly rule the entire Galaxy, just as the Gods intended.

And then they had hit the border of the Klavarta, as they called themselves.  There was still debate as to whether there were other species in their Empire, which stretched two thousand light years along the Sagittarian and Perseus arms.  So far no others had been found, though there was some intelligence that another species actually ruled their Empire, hints gleaned from captives who were otherwise noncompliant to any known interrogation technique.

The unusual thing about that border region, for two hundred light years up to the first Klavartan outpost, was their complete and total lack of intelligent life.  One billion two hundred million cubic light years of emptiness as far as intelligence was concerned, an area of several hundred million stars.  There were worlds with life, the same number as most regions the Ca’cadasans had already conquered.  And there were ruins, everything from stone age encampments to supercities, all burned out.  And skeletons, for those sophonts who possessed bony skeletal framework.

The word had spread through the Ca’cadasan Empire and military.  A terrible word.  Genocide.  The Cacada had totally wiped out three intelligent species in the history of the Empire. Really only two if truth be told.  One was the communal mind creatures who had actually invaded and conquered the homeworld prior to the Empire.  They had been sought out and destroyed in revenge for what they did to the people.  The other was an advanced civilization that had stayed in their own system.  That species had refused to surrender, and destroyed everything that tried to land on their planet.  So the Cacada had been forced to bombard them with missiles moving at near relativistic speeds.  Too many missiles had gotten through, and reduced the planet to total lifelessness, along with the intelligent beings that lived there.

The only other species the Empire had exterminated were the humans, only it was thought some might have gotten away, and a small population was kept to be able to spy on them if they were found again.  And then they had found more humans on the other side of the Empire.  So even in that instance the Race had not committed genocide, a crime against the Gods according to their religion.  They could subjugate other species, hold them in slavery for the good of the Empire.  But future genocide, except in the one limited proscribed case, that of the humans, was forbidden.

The imperative was changed with the discovery of those planets.  It was no longer simply conquest and expansion.  It was to find and punish the blasphemers who were destroying intelligent life.  The Empire switched from slow expansion to a quick thrust by hundreds of small task groups into the Dead Zone, as it was called, looking for civilizations that might have survived, and for that which was killing off the intelligent species in the region.

Scores of those task forces found what they were looking for, at least the second part.  Those task forces disappeared without a trace, followed by more of them in the coming weeks, and the Empire knew it had a real war on its hands.

Large groups, fleets of a thousand ships each, followed into the Zone, looking for an enemy, that now could not be found.  It took a year of cautiously searching before the enemy struck again, and this time they attacked a force that was able to fight them off, at least enough to get away and warn the Empire what they faced.

What they faced was a species that seemed to have been constructed for war.  A species made up of a number of subspecies that were specialized in their function, performing their assigned tasks better than any of the Cacada.  They fought in small ships, a hundred thousand tons or smaller, faster, more maneuverable, and what they lost in firepower they more than made up for in numbers.  There always seemed to be more of them, and they fought to the end.  Every, single, time.  Retreat and surrender did not seem to be in their vocabulary.  The few who had been captured had been injured too badly to resist, in vessels no longer capable of operation.

For ten years the war raged on, without the Empire finding a single one of the Klavarta homeworlds, not even a base beyond some large stations orbiting gas giants in otherwise unimportant systems.  Back and forth through the Dead Zone, until the Ca’cadasans finally broke into the space of the enemy Empire and encountered a Klavartan homeworld, or at least one that had a shitload of the aliens.  After that it was ten years of back and forth into each other’s home territory.  And then the last five years, when the Empire at first seemed to be winning the war, pushing back the enemy, until a massive enemy counter offensive pushed them back into their own space once again.

And then we found the humans, all the way on the other side of the Empire, thought the Great Admiral with a grimace.  While always desired, the timing was terrible.  The humans were more powerful than it had been thought possible, and now, after the setbacks on that front, many of the forces that had been earmarked for his command had been diverted to take care of the hated humans once and for all.

“My, Lord,” called out one of his subordinate commanders, this one in charge of his intelligence apparatus.

“Yes, Admiral,” he replied, looking up with angry eyes, wondering what else could have gone wrong.

“We’ve located their capital, my Lord,” said the excited male, striding into the room, all hands gesturing wildly.

“Calm down, Admiral.  What do you mean, their capital?”

“One of our scouts has returned, with wonderful news,” said the Chief Spy.  “We have found a world, thirteen hundred light years in from the other edge of the dead zone.  And it appears to have all the indications of being a capital.”

The Great Admiral stared at the lesser Admiral with disbelief.  They had been sending out small scout vessels for the last fifteen years, thousands of them.  Most never returned, and those that had brought back little information.  Merely where another intelligent species had once lived and did no longer.  Or where a Klavarta force was temporarily.  Not worth the lives of the tens of thousands of males lost, but they continued to be sent out in hopes of finding some kind of target worth striking.

“Where?  Show me,” ordered the Great Admiral.  “Show me.”

The holo came alive again, showing a blinking star almost centered in relation to the border region, as advertised, thirteen hundred light years in from the Dead Zone.  A little over eighteen hundred light years from this system.

“Send couriers out to all base systems.  I want all offensive forces to gather at this point.”  The Great Admiral indicated a small system on the opposite edge of the Dead Zone from where he stood.

“All of them, my Lord?  But that will leave the border all but undefended.  And what of the capture of  H’lada?”

“We will leave them that system for now.  In fact, with a fleet of Klavarta gathered there, they cannot interfere with a strike into their system.”

The subordinate stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“And if we strike now we might be able to end this war,” growled the Great Admiral, clenching all four fists.  “So do as you are ordered.”

“And who will lead the fleet, my Lord?”

“I will,” he replied, a predatory grin on his face.  And I will gain great favor with the Emperor if I can rid him of one of his greatest enemies.

*     *     *

GALACTIC SPACE APRIL 9TH, 1002.

“We’re receiving visual, ma’am,” said Lt. Commander Picard, looking back from his station.

“Put it on the main viewer,” ordered the Commodore, turning her chair to put the screen to her front.

It had taken many hours, over a standard day, but the unknown ships had finally matched vectors and velocity with her force while moving close.  All of the vessels were small, three of them in the three hundred thousand ton range, the others just over a hundred thousand tons.  They had maneuvered at five hundred and fifty gravities, which showed they were at least as advanced as Imperial ships in their propulsion technology.  Weapons capabilities were unknown, but when they appeared on visual they had the look of purpose built warships about them.

The face that appeared on the screen was both alien and familiar at the same time.  It was very human in its layout and structure, with a bluish skin and human looking eyes behind nictitating membranes.  Even the structure of the body and limbs was human, again with some differences.  The chamber behind it was manned by beings who looked much the same, with a couple of exceptions.  Fluid was at about waist level and dropping, and the Commodore noted what looked like gills on the side of the being’s neck.

The creature’s eyes widened, and its gasped in breath showed its surprise.  In fact, for obviously not being human, the being’s facial expressiveness was very human.  It immediately bowed at the waist moments after it saw her, then straightened up with a look of adoration on its face.

“My Lady.  We could not believe it was more of the Overlords when we received your grav pulse.  This is a joyous day.  The Overlords will be so happy to know that we have found their brothers and sisters from the stars.”

“And who are these, Overlords?”

“Why, they are you,” said the being in perfect terranglo, voice bubbling with excitement.  “From Earth.”  Another being, this one of a very different appearance, looking like something that was made to kill, all large, sharp teeth in a protruding jaw, clawed hands, horns and spikes, came up beside the spokesperson and whispered something in its ear.

“My Commander of Warriors has just reminded me that we are not supposed to reveal the existence of the masters, no matter what,” said the being, which the Commodore thought must be the force commander.  “But, you are the masters.  You come from Earth, do you not?”

“Our species left Earth some two thousand years ago,” said Sung, nodding.  “And settled in our present space a thousand years ago.”

“As did the Overlords, may the Universe bless them.  They have tales about the Exodus ship, and how they escaped Earth in front of the Monsters.  And how other ships tried and failed, though one other was scheduled to leave after they did.”

“And that would be us,” said Sung, feeling a chill go up her spine.  The history talked about the Exodus ships, the largest mobile structures made by man up to that point, thirty million ton ships carrying the total sum knowledge of the human race, held on memory discs and the computers of the vessel.  Every piece of literature, from the writings of Homer to the most recent novel or comic book.  Every movie and trivee, and even before they had 3D.  Every piece of music, every painting, even three dimensional representation of every sculpture and building.  Along with a genetic sample of every form of life on Earth and the half dozen planets they had colonized.  Joining those treasures were fifty thousand humans in cryo, along with millions of eggs and hundreds of thousands of sperm samples.

Exodus IV had left just a couple of hours before the III, the one that founded the Empire, due to a problem loading the III.  It survived intact due to this delay, as every remaining ship in the Sol system fought to get it away.  IV had been hit before it went into subspace, and was streaming atmosphere before it entered.  The Caca ship that was chasing it, also equipped with subspace drive as a secondary system, jumped after it with some delay, and it had been feared that IV was lost.  But obviously they had gotten away, somehow.

“And you are fighting the Ca’cadasans?”

“Of course we are,” said the being.  “We have been battling the Monsters to a standstill for the last twenty-five Earth years.”

Twenty-five years, thought Natasha, her eyes widening.  And they almost rolled over us in the first six months.  How much military power do these people have?

“Will you come with us, to see the Overlords?” asked the alien, again with a very human like bow.

Commander Beoit, she sent over her link to the chief biologist of the mission.  Are you getting this?

Yes, ma’am, sent back the Biologist, his link sending the words with an excited overtone.  Amazing convergent evolution.

But is it convergent evolution? chimed in Commander Laaksonen, himself a Zoologist.  The correspondence of limb to body is almost perfect.  Even Malticons aren’t quite that humanly proportioned, he said, referring to the diminutive humanoids within the Empire.  Except for the hands.  Look at those fingers.  They have an extra joint.  And they are so thin and supple, like they were made to run over a control board.

“Of course we will come with you to see your, Overlords,” she replied to the alien.  Or was it Masters.  The two terms seemed to be interchangable.  “Can you send us the coordinates?”

“Alas, that we cannot do,” said the alien with a frown.  “We are not permitted to give that information to outsiders.  It is important that the Monsters not know where the Masters live.”

“But you know where they live?”

“Yes,” said the alien with a slight smile.  “But there is nothing in this Universe that could make one of us divulge that information.”

“What are you called?”

“We are called the Klavarta,” said the alien.  “I am a female of the Alpha subspecies, the pilots.  And we will lead you to our Masters, as they would wish.”

I wonder what they would say if we refused to go? sent Laaksonen.

I really don’t want to find out, sent back the Commodore.  I really don’t think they would take no for an answer.

“We will follow.  Know that our ships cannot accelerate much past one hundred and ten Earth gravities.”

“Why so slow?” asked the alien.

“And what is your name?”

“I am Slardra,” answered the alien with another bow.  “I am a task force leader.”

“Well, Slardra.  Our ships are explorers, built for the long haul.  We have traveled over thirty thousand light years to get here, and that was actually a much shorter trip than we were designed to take.”

“My people only have time for warships,” answered Slardra.  “I am surprised your people have time for anything else.”

The holo went blank, and Sung turned to Picard.  “Send a message through the wormhole com back to the Empire.  Let them know we have found what we came for.  I will have a report for them in a couple of hours.”  And they truly are not going to believe what I have to tell them.  But first she wanted to discuss it with her staff and get their take on it.

“This is obviously the ally we were seeking,” said Major Saul Briggs, her ground force commander.  “We were hoping we could find a power that would be willing to work with us, and have enough military might that they could carry their own weight.  I would say that we have found them.”

“I have to agree with the Major,” said Fujardo, rotating a three dimensional model of one of the Klavarta ships in a holo to his front.  “If they’ve been fighting the Cacas for twenty-five years, they have the military power.  And I’m betting they can teach us a few things about the big bastards.”

“XO?”

“On the surface, they seem to be everything we were expecting,” said Laaksonen, looking over the table, the five people really in the room, and the nine sitting in through holo.  “But something just doesn’t feel right about them.”

“I didn’t know you were part of the Imperial family, Gauroi,” said Captain Markus Palachi of the Santa Maria.   “Are you having prophetic dreams about them?”

There was some laughter around the table, and Laaksonen’s face reddened in embarrassment.

“That’s enough of that,” said Sung, staring at the senior of her two captains.  “The Xo said that something didn’t feel right to him, not that he had received a psychic premonition.  And it doesn’t feel right to me either.”  She looked back at the Exec.  “So, what do we know about them?”

“They say they are one species, the Klavarta,” said the Exec, pulling up a holo that showed the force leader of the aliens.  “But we have identified four distinct subspecies so far.  The Pilots, or ship’s command crew.  They call themselves Alphas.”  The holo switched to show a large Klavarta, taller than the last, and much more muscular.  “The Engineers?  At least that’s what they seem to be.”  The holo changed to show a smaller version of the second, much thinner.  “The repair and damage control specialist.  We think the small size is indicative of an ability to get into small spaces.  And finally this bruiser.”  This time the holo showed what appeared to be a nightmare.

“That’s one ugly bastard,” said Commander Millie van Dussel, the Exec of the Pinta.

Sung turned a glare on the woman for a moment, then shook her head.  They were all  officers in Exploration Command, and xenophobia was not tolerated in that organization.  It wasn’t considered polite in human society, but the Command was expected to meet a variety of strange, sometimes never before seen, aliens.  Looking back at the nightmare, she had to admit that van Dussel was correct.  Not only was that subspecies unappealing, they were the stuff of nightmares.

Not appearing in the least human, except for the proportions of their arms and two thirds of their legs, it was hard to imagine that they were even the same species as the others.  The hands on the ends of those arms only had four digits, three fingers and a thumb, all tipped with sharp claws.  Both of the forearms had a pair of spikes protruding from them.  The feet also had four digits, two on the end, and two further up the structure.  They walked on the balls, much like many animals, and it was easy to see that this was a running creature.  The five horns sweeping back from the skull looked capable of disemboweling with a toss of the head.   But the real terror was the mouth, lipless, and full of sharp teeth.  That organ looked capable of biting the head off a human.

The entire creature stood two and a half meters tall, and had to weigh a hundred and fifty kilos of bone and muscle.  Though smaller than a Caca, it appeared very capable of killing one in hand to hand combat.

“This is definitely a warrior,” continued the Exec.  “It’s really hard to imagine that something like this arose naturally from the other subspecies.  In, fact, it’s hard to imagine that any of these forms, optimized as they are to the different functions of running a warship, ever evolved this way.  Another red flag is their ability to breathe in liquid.  They appear to be warm blooded forms, and as such they must be able to pull in oxygen sufficient to power their brains.  Water cannot hold enough oxygen to feed the brains these creatures carry.  The only, and I mean only, reason for having fluid aboard a ship when the crew can breathe air is to cushion the acceleration.”

“And that means?” asked Captain Kali Gadhavi, the commander of Pinta.

“That these people were all genetically engineered to perfectly fit their function,” said Sung, her eyes widening.  While genetic engineering was not considered completely unethical in the Empire, as evidenced by the overall improvement of the human species, and the augmentation of special operatives like the Major, this was something beyond the pale.  To manipulate an entire species, to make them your toys.  That would be considered criminal by most of the Empire’s population.

“This is all speculation,” said Captain Palachi, shaking his head.  “We don’t know any of this.  For all we know, they are a naturally evolved alien species.  Or they engineered themselves.”

“The speculation fits what we know,” said Laaksonen.  “And I find it unlikely that any species evolved such perfect specialization to ship board operations in so short a time.”

“And we all know that the unlikely happens all the time,” said Palachi, his eyes narrowing as his holographic image glared at Laaksonen.  “The impossible only occurs at somewhat regular intervals.”

“We aren’t getting anywhere with this,” cautioned Sung, waving a finger in the air.

“What we need are some genetic samples.  And to get those, I think we need to get some of the Klavarta over to our ships.”

“That we can work on,” said the Commodore, a smile on her face.  “As soon as we’re on a course for wherever we’re heading, I’ll invite their Captain over.”

It took several days to shift the vector enough so they were heading the direction the Klavarta wanted them to go.  A week into the journey the Commodore issued the invitation, and as she had suspected the Klavarta Alpha literally jumped at the opportunity.  The Klavarta flagship eased in close to the Nina until their hyperfields intersected.  Moments later a small shuttle left the Klavarta ship and slowly moved to the amidships port hangar, where a reception party, including the Commodore, was waiting.

The hatch to the shuttle slid open and the Marines on deck, kitted out in their dress uniforms, brass work gleaming on red coats, brought their ceremonial magrail rifles to a present arms salute.  Sung stood at the head of a dozen of her officers, also in dress uniforms, in their case the blues of the Fleet.

The creatures stepped out, two of the really scary ones leading the way, their eyes scanning the hanger.  They were dressed in a greenish uniform that looked like it must have been the semi-dress version of their shipboard outfit.  Both wore side arms, their hands never far from the butts, as they walked forward with a grace that belied their size.

One of the Pilots came next.  Sung couldn’t tell which one, since she was still having trouble differentiating them from facial features.  From the medals and brass on the tan uniform she would have to guess it was the task group commander.  Two more of the pilots followed, then the bulky form of an engineer.  Last out of the craft were a pair of the diminutive engineering assistants.

Music played across the deck, the anthem of the Empire, since they didn’t know what passed for such with the aliens.  Sung stepped forward, offering her hand, wondering if that was an appropriate gesture, thinking it must be if humans were their rulers.

“Task Force Leader Slardra, I presume,” said Sung, grasping the smooth hand of the pilot.  “Welcome aboard the Nina.”

“I so wanted to see your wonderful vessel, Commodore,” said the alien commander with a smile.  She turned back to the others in her party.  “Let me introduce my officers.”  She went through the introductions of the other pilots and the Engineer, but omitted the Marines and the engineering assistants.

“And these are?” asked Sung, gesturing to the assistants and then the Marines.

“Not important,” said Slardra with a dismissive gesture.

And I wonder what that’s about, thought Sung, immediately sending the thought through link to her other officers.  She, and every other alien species she had ever heard of, would have at least introduced visitors on another ship, no matter their station.

“This is my Chief Engineer,” said Sung, putting her ruminations on the back burner for the moment. “Commander Ionesco.”

The short officer bowed, then put his hand out to shake that Slardra.

“You maintain this huge vessel,” said the Engineer who had come with the aliens.

“Yes,” said Alexandru, nodding.  “And the Commodore has tasked me with the privilege of showing you this, huge vessel.”

“And after you finish the tour, we will have dinner in my dining room,” said Natasha, bowing again to the visitors.

Watching the aliens walk away with his Chief Engineer and an honor guard that contained a few armored Marines, surreptitious guardians of both the aliens and the ship, she wondered if even her armored soldiers would be a match for those two warriors, moving as they did with the grace of dancers despite their bulk.  Their heads were constantly on the move, checking everything out, sometimes blurring with speed.  As soon as they were through the hatch she moved to another and was heading for the lift to the bridge and her day cabin.

“We’re getting back the scan from the nanites,” said the voice of her Exec in his brain.

The nanites had started infiltrating the bodies of the visitors as soon as they stepped into the atmosphere of the hangar.  They were everywhere, throughout the ship, and since one of their functions was to scan for damage, both to the vessel and the crew, it was hoped that their infiltration into the bodies of the visitors, uninvited, would not be remarked upon.  Of course they expected the aliens to have their own nanites, that would locate and destroy the invaders soon after they entered their bodies.  That was what the humans’ internal nanites would do to any unknown invaders.  But these unknown invaders didn’t need much time, only enough to penetrate some surface cells and burrow into the nuclei, where they could perform a thorough scan of the chromosomes and their constituent genes.

“They have forty-six chromosomes,” said the Laaksonen, his tone that of someone who had been proven right.  “All of them, all of the subspecies.  Forty-six chromosomes.”

The same as we do, thought the Commodore.  About three quarters of the intelligent species discovered thus far used the nucleotides of DNA, most of them the same four as humans, some of them a substitute, a few more an extra.  The others used some other arrangement for storing genetic information.  Of those that used the same subset of four nucleotides as humans, which forced their chromosomes into much the same structure, only a few had the same number of the larger constructs.

“What about the arrangement of the genes?”

“That’s going to take some more analysis, ma’am.  We’ve gotten some good snap shots of the couple of hundred thousand different nuclei we’ve invaded, but the nanotech of the visitors is quite advanced, and we’re about to lose our entire scanning group.  Once we’ve assembled all the data and crunched it, we’ll have a better picture.  But the initial analysis points to them being of human origin.”

So, we probably have humans here, thought Sung, hitting the lift and sending it instructions to move her up and over to the bridge.  And the question is, why change them this way?  She could think of only one reason, to engineer the supersoldiers that they needed to beat the Cacas.  But that still brought up some major ethical concerns as regarded these creators.

Chapter Two

Everyone imposes his own system as far as his army can reach.

Joseph Stalin.

NEW MOSCOW SPACE APRIL 11TH, 1002.

“We think that’s the last of them, Admiral,” said the Fleet Tactical Officer from his station on the flag bridge of the Constance the Great.  “Thirty-two hundred and fifty-three. That same number the scouts have been passing along to us on the way, minus the thirty-three they’ve taken care of.”

And not saying anything about the sixty-one ships we lost in those exchanges, thought Fleet Admiral Jerry Kelvin, watching the slowly moving icons on the tactical holo.  Several hundred of those icons were in hyper II, mostly scout ships with a smattering of supercruisers, the force that was going to come through to scope out the system before the battle fleet arrived.  Half of those ships were in hyper III, the others still in IV.  They’re learning.  I guess we couldn’t expect them to be stupid every single time.

Kelvin pushed himself out of his seat, his battle armor, giving him the strength of five strong humans, moving his and its mass with ease.  He walked toward the central holo tank, glancing for a moment at the viewer that showed the tactical bridge of the vessel, where the captain and his crew would fight the ship.  That section was in the amidships central capsule, one of the three inner protective structures on the huge ship.  His flag bridge was in the forward central capsule, while Rear Admiral Lawrence Kelso, his Chief of Staff, was ensconced in the stern capsule, where he could take over the coordination of the fleet if something happened to Kelvin, just as the Exec in the CIC, sheltered within that same capsule, could take over for the Captain.

We’re going to be in battle within the next fifteen minutes, he thought, wiping at his face with a gauntleted hand.   Constance was one of the new super heavy battleships, the most powerful ships in known space, twenty-seven million tons of warship, with five wormholes aboard linking to com and weapons systems.  As such, he couldn’t hold her back in safety.  She needed to be in the thick of things, and Kelvin thought once again about how Kelso had advised him to use a lesser ship as his flag.  But it’s good for morale to be in the thick of things, thought the Fleet Admiral.  It had worked for Nelson back on old Earth, and he thought it was still a morale boost in this day and age.

Kelvin was feeling so inadequate at the moment.  He had about the same number of ships as the enemy, or at least would have when the Republic contingent arrived.  They were outmassed two to one, which would go down to one point five to one when their allies arrived in about fifteen hours.  When Admiral Lenkowski arrived, the odds would switch so heavily in his favor that it wouldn’t matter what the enemy had.  But that wouldn’t happen for another thirty-nine hours.

If we had the person this ship is named after, maybe we would have more of a chance, he thought.  Constance had been a member of the royal family and a Fleet Admiral, living over four centuries in the past.  She had been responsible for many of the greatest victories in the history of the fleet against alien powers.  And then she had led a rebellion that turned into a civil war, rejecting the rule and policies of her cousin, Cassius Garibaldi, Cassius II, know after his reign as the Terrible.  Outnumbered more than two to one by the part of the fleet that had stayed loyal to Cassius, she had fought a brilliant campaign over a decade, drawing more of the fleet to her side a little at a time.  And finally defeating Cassius to become the first of her name as Empress.

And he was sure that if she had been commanding, she would have come up with a brilliant strategy to defeat this enemy handily.  Instead, they had him.  He was the designated commander of this battle, even the Republic force and its Crakistan allies subordinate to him.

“First Picket Force reports they are ready for launch,” called out the Fleet Tactical Officer.

“They may launch on the command of First Picket Force commander,” replied the Admiral, sure that the officer in question would choose the correct time.

“Time to our first launch, two minutes, sixteen seconds.”

Kelvin nodded as he stood looking at the holo.  There were already icons of his force on that holo, ships and deployed surprises.  They were not boosting at the moment, none of them, and so were not detectable by an enemy moving in hyper.  Some, the closer, would be visible to the enemy soon after they entered normal space.  By that time they would be under attack, and have little time to devote to anything that was not trying to kill them.  He saw them because his ship’s computer had seen them during their last locator gravity pulse, generated over an hour ago.  And had estimated their track thereafter.  It might be marginally off, but not by much.

“Launching, now,” called out the Tactical Officer, and the massive ship started the strange vibration that went along with a wormhole missile launch system.  The two launchers put out a wave of missiles in a fraction of a second, travelling at point nine light, grabber units powered down, making them nearly undetectable at anything other than very close range.  Each launcher let out thirty missiles.  There was a quiet period of about thirty seconds as the wormhole at the other end of the link, thousands of light years distant, moved into position.  Each launch tube was thousands of kilometers long, and accelerated the missiles through over and over, entering a wormhole at the end of the tube to reappear at the beginning to start the process over again.  At the moment of launch the wormhole at the end collapsed to a pinpoint along the side, effectively removing it from the end of the tube in a nanosecond, revealing the next wormhole a hundred meters further on. The microsecond burst of thrumming vibration went through the ship again, and then the wormhole frame rotated into place again and sent out another blast of missiles.  The procedure was repeated six times by each launcher, using the half dozen launch tubes in each assembly.  In a little under three minutes each launcher had put out one hundred and eighty missiles, three hundred and sixty for the entire ship.

Light seconds on either side of Constance were the super heavy battleships Chang Lee, named after the first ruler of what was to become the New Terran Empire, and Claudius I, the last of the pre-emperor kings.  Each had the same launching system.  Each put the same number of missiles into space at point nine light, sending them toward the area where the enemy scout force was expected to arrive.  A region a mere thirty light seconds away.

“Estimated enemy translation in twenty-four seconds,” called out the Tactical Officer.  “Particle beams fully charged and ready.”

And now we wait, thought the Fleet Admiral, watching as the icons of the enemy scout force moved toward the hyper I barrier, velocity holding steady at point three light, their maximum translation speed.  While more of the main force made the jump from hyper II to I.

*     *     *

“The scouts will be entering the system in three minutes, Great Admiral,” reported the Tactical Officer to the commander of the Ca’cadasan relief fleet.

Great Admiral Kleshinki Jaranona’so growled his response as he looked at the tactical holo.   He thought it strange that they were not picking up any ships in the system they were heading into.  There was supposed to be a substantial Ca’cadasan presence in the system, and some of those ships should have been under power, emitting the gravitons that would give them away even to ships in hyper.  Had the system been taken?  Not that there was anything he could do about it until he entered normal space.  His fleet was committed.  There was no way they could decelerate enough to turn around and avoid the system.  In fact, at maximum deceleration, they would be over an hour into the system before they could start acceleration back out, if that’s what he decided to do.

“And we will enter the system, when?”

“In forty-four minutes, my Lord,” said the Navigation Officer, looking up from his board.  “First ships from the main force will translate into normal space in forty minutes, the last at fifty-three.”

So he would have his entire force within a couple of light minutes of each other, and separated by nine minutes of time.  He had little experience with the humans, other than the information other Cacada had brought back from the front.  They were said to be devious, tricky, capable of great deception.  But here he had three fifths of a conquest fleet, surely enough to handle anything that might be waiting for him.

“I want all vessels ready to fire on anything that isn’t identified as one of ours, as soon as they enter normal space,” he said to the Com Officer in a tone that brooked no discussion.  “If we can fire on it, they are to fire, and hit it with everything they have until it is a cloud of expanding plasma.”

“The scouts are translating into normal space now, my Lord,” called out the Navigation Officer.  At that moment the lights dimmed slightly on the bridge, and the characteristic nausea of a translation struck the Great Admiral.  Ca’cadasans, as a species, were not easy translators, hit hard by the biological disorientation of changing dimensions.  And the Great Admiral was one of the more sensitive ones aboard the ship.

“My Lord,” cried out the Tactical Officer, turning around, his teeth bared in alarm.  “We have missile launch in normal space, heading into the scouts.”  The officer turned back to his board as the icons appeared on the plot, followed by another massive surge of vector arrows appearing in front of the main fleet. “We have missile translation, coming up from normal space.   Straight ahead.  Closing speed, point three four light.”

Tricky indeed, thought the Great Admiral, gritting his teeth, watching as several thousand vector arrows headed into his fleet.

*     *     *

Two hundred Ca’cadasan ships translated into normal space just outside the hyper I barrier, within light seconds of their projected entry point.  The Ca’cadasans, at least these Ca’cadasans at this time, were predictable in the way they entered a system.  A straight line from their point of origin, jumping with almost pinpoint precision from dimension to dimension.  It was masterful navigation, but one that led to giving away part of their game.

The dozen supercruisers and their escort of one hundred and eighty-eight scouts started scanning space as soon as they exited the holes they had created between the dimensions.  And saw that they were in a really bad situation, with nothing to do but weather the storm and hope.

One thousand and eighty missiles were streaking toward them at point nine light, their grabbers lighting as soon as their sensors picked up the translation of their targets, accelerating them at a vector changing twelve thousand gravities, adding almost a hundred and eighty kilometers per second to their velocity.  Normally only capable of five thousand gravities over the long haul, these weapons were trading duration for acceleration, and would only be able to maintain that rate for about five minutes before their grabbers burned out.  It would be more than was needed.

The enemy tried their best to survive the wave.  Their best was not good enough, and only twenty-three ships survived the onslaught.  They warned the ships still in hyper through grav pulse, not that there was anything the rest of the fleet could do for them.

Chapter Three

As long as your ideology identifies the main source of the world’s ills as a definable group, it opens the world up to genocide.

Steven Pinker.

NEW TERRAN EMPIRE SPACE  APRIL 11TH, 1002.

“As far as we can tell, they are of human origin, your Majesty,” said Dr. Lois Lenki, a geneticist and advisor to the Ministry of Science.  The tall, black haired woman had come all the way from the capital to brief the Emperor, though he had received a preliminary brief a couple of days before.

“But are they still human?” asked Sean, looking over the genetic structure that had been relayed from the Nina over the wormhole com.  The patterns looked human, as far as that went, until one probed deeper and saw the differences.  Some genes were missing, others substituted.  And the structure was different from class to class.

“As far as the definition of species, able to reproduce with viable offspring capable of the same, no sir,” said the scientist, calling up a holo over the flatcomp she was carrying.  “In fact, we’re not sure the classes, better call them separate species of hominids, can reproduce with each other at all.”

“Separate species of hominids,” said the Emperor under his breath.  As far as the human species was concerned, there was only one other primate that even came close to having the same genetic structure.  Chimpanzees.  Humans had forty-six chromosomes, while chimps had forty-eight, but they both had almost the same number of genes.

“These beings have the same number of chromosomes as we do, but some are much larger than our corresponding chromosomes,” said Lenki, pointing to the sixteenth through nineteenth pairs, and number twenty-one and twenty-two, which were much longer than their corresponding true human pairs.

Sean brought up what he had learned about the Human Genome and Improvement Project, the effort to improve humanity back in the second century of humanity’s reestablishment.  Humanity had been improved across the board.  They were stronger, faster, hardier and smarter about thirty percent across the board.  The ethicists had tempered the improvements, making sure that all the improvements still fit a bell curve of human variation.  The geneticists and ethicists were afraid that tampering too much with the human genome would lead to problems according to the law of unforeseen consequences.  They had gotten rid of all the genetic defects which had plagued mankind.  Diabetes, mental retardation, neurological disorders were all things of the past, and nanotech would prevent any of the dread diseases from ever rearing their ugly heads again.

This kind of genetic manipulation was beyond the pale, separating humankind into completely different species that had no say in what they were to become.

“What have your simulations shown?” he asked the Geneticist.

“All of these new species have hyper metabolic systems,” said the scientist, the figure of one of the ground warriors turning in the holo.  “They would go from newborn to adult in less than five years, and their lives would be lived on the fast track.  We can’t give you a firm figure, but their life span would be much shorter than unimproved humans.”

Sean nodded, thinking about how humanity had lived most of its existence as a brutally short journey through a life filled with death.  Only in the latter part of the nineteenth and into the twentieth century did most people live more than half of their potential life span, and in the twenty-first they had started to live into their hundreds, thanks to medical science.  The Human Genome Improvement Project had extended that natural life span to between two hundred and fifty and three hundred years.  In that respect they had tried to extend it as far as possible, and had run into a wall at the current limit.  It was still a great improvement over what they had had.

Cloning had been experimented with, the growing of new bodies and transferring the consciousness from the old body to the new.  But that had led to other problems, as the clones had lacked any kind of human morality.  They exhibited the brain wave patterns of psychopaths, and their actions led to the complete banning of that technology.  Human body parts could be regrown, but not complete bodies.

“Anything else?”

“We’re still running simulations, your Majesty.  The problem is that they are only simulations.  We won’t really know without observation of some live specimens.”

“So our brothers had to resort to genetic engineering to fight the Cacas,” said Sean, feeling some trepidation at the very thought of creating a separate species like the people from Exodus IV must have done.  “We’ve had to do some things I haven’t liked in order to stop the Cacas ourselves.”

“This is what we know about, your Majesty,” said the Scientist, her eyes narrowing.  “The tip of the iceberg.  We have no idea how much suffering this kind of genetic manipulation has caused, or what else people who would resort to this level of biological crime would do.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lenki,” he said, gesturing for his Military Advisor to step forward.  “Now excuse me.”

The Scientist looked like she wanted to say more, but realized that she was being dismissed.  She walked away, shoulders slumped, as Sean turned toward the General who was his liaison with the army forces on New Moscow.

“How is the evacuation going?” he asked Major General Carla Manuel.

“We’ve gotten three hundred million off the planet so far, your Majesty,” said the General, her eyes following the scientist as she moved out of earshot.  “That leaves over four hundred million to be moved.  And that’s just on New Moscow.”

Sean thought about the other worlds that had been liberated, a dozen planets that had been taken over by the Cacas, with another three hundred million humans between them.  Those planets were safe as far as the Cacas were concerned.  There were sufficient fleet units in the system and soldiers on the ground to safeguard those civilians, and since there were less than fifty million people on each world, there was enough food to feed most of them.  A superfreighter in each system supplied enough food and medical supplies for the rest.

In fact, they might have been able to save all of the people on New Moscow by leaving them in place, and bringing in what they needed.  Except that they had expected Caca forces to come in and reinforce the system, and that there would be a large force of Ca’cadasan infantry on the ground even after the world was taken.  They didn’t figure that the Cacas would come along so soon, before the major fleet force reached New Moscow, but there they were.   With an alien force in the system that could bombard the planet at long range, taking out the world and the humans who were still there, there really was no choice but to attempt to evacuate all of them they could.  The people who wanted to be evacuated from the other worlds would be lifted off, in time.  But New Moscow was something that couldn’t wait.

“New Moscow is the largest concentration of people left from the Kingdom of New Moscow,” said Sean, looking at the map of the region in his link.  “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye with the Czar, or his people.  But they are human, and I’ll be damned before we let them all die out.  New Moscow will live again, and their military will fight alongside us into Caca space.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.  And we’re doing everything we can about them.  But we aren’t the Fleet, and we really can’t do anything about the Caca navy, unless and until they come within range of our planetary weapons.”

Sean stared at her for a moment, until the woman dropped her eyes, then turned his basilisk gaze onto Vice Admiral Klarence Wu, his Fleet liaison officer.  “I am damned tired of my military services acting like they are competing forces,” he yelled, causing both flag officers to flinch.  “You are all part of the same team, my sword and mace.  I don’t care if you fly spaceships or shoot at the enemy from the ground.  You are the Imperial military.”

“Yes, sir,” said both officers, snapping to attention in front of the man they had both sworn oaths to, a young man at least forty years their junior.

“Good.  Then the Fleet will take care of the Cacas in space,” he said looking at Wu.  He looked over at Manuel.  “And the Army will hunt and kill the Cacas on the ground.  And you will trust your sister service to take care of their business, while you take care of yours.”

There were nods and some mumbled ‘yes sirs’ to that last pronouncement.  Sean smiled.  Let them worry about him, and of course about their own fiefdoms.  He should be the one staying up at night worrying about the big picture.

Both services are going to grow much bigger before this thing is over, he thought, looking over the field at the seemingly endless line of refugees.  The Fleet had always been the senior service.  With a space faring civilization, it made more sense to invest in warships than in ground troops.  For  civilization to function they needed to protect the space lanes from both enemy space nations and pirates.  They projected the force of the Empire into other space, and carried out the diplomacy of the government when other means broke down.  They were the best way to protect the inhabited planets of the Empire, since a fleet that couldn’t get within bombardment range of a planet was really no threat.  And of course the Caca fleet, the greatest threat ever to the human species, could only be handled by his own fleet, and those of his allies.  That wasn’t something the Army could do.

Not saying that the Imperial Army was useless.  They did function as a planetary defense force, and protected inhabited planets from invasion.  And they would be needed to take enemy planets, especially when the only other way to neutralize a planet was to destroy everything on the surface.  With modern buildings and the energy it took to knock them down, that meant enough megatonage to wipe a planet clean of life.  There would be a lot of systems to take on the way to the capital of the Ca’cadasan Empire.  Unless he wanted to just wipe out planets.  And since in their Empire the slaves outnumbered the Cacas a hundred to one, that would just add to the butcher’s bill.  I will not become as they are, he thought of the Cacas.  I will not commit genocide.  No matter how tempting it might be.

He looked away from the crowded field and those people, all liberated by ground forces.  True, the Fleet had a big part in that rescue, but without the Army, and to a lesser extent the Marines, none of those people would have made it to safety.

“Your transport is ready, your Majesty,” said one of his Secret Service Agents.

Work awaits, he thought, nodding to the agent, then following his detail.  There was nothing he could do about New Moscow at the moment.  Everything he could do, he had done. Now it was time to take care of the business of the Empire, which even in wartime meant more than just moving ships from here to there.

*    *     *

PLANET NEW MOSCOW APRIL 11TH, 1002.

The Emperor wasn’t the only one worried about the battle going on in the system space.  Nor was he the only one who knew there was nothing he could do about it, and had to occupy himself with other things.  Unlike the Emperor, some of the others had many more personally important things to keep their attention.

“They’re here,” said First Sergeant Renhard Fujardo, poking his head into the small chamber that his Captain had taken for his own.

Captain The Baron Cornelius Walborski opened his eyes as soon as he the other man spoke.  He had been awakened by the approach of the quiet man, his heightened senses keeping watch even when his mind was otherwise engaged.  That mind should have been engaged with sleep, but the memories of the battle were too fresh, the faces kept floating through his mental vision.  He had lost over a hundred and forty of his men, only thirty-seven of them recoverable.

“About time,” growled the young man as he forced himself out of bed, fully alert in moments.  He took a few moments pulling on one of the overalls they used for casual wear out in the field, then grabbed his boots and put them on his feet, sealing them to the legs of his uniform.  “What do they look like?”

“Bad as hell, sir,” said the smiling Top Sergeant.  “Bad as hell.”

Walborski followed the Top down the hall, where the rest of his small unit was gathered.  He was anxious to get back into the field, this time to do what he was trained to do.  Command had seemed to agree with him, granting his request to lead a half platoon back into the brush to hunt down the Cacas that were still out there.  The heavy infantry could track down the larger groups of Cacas, those who were still gathered in dangerous combat units of company size or better.  But there were numerous small groups out there, also dangerous in their own way.  Command was unwilling to let them just hang out in the jungle, where they could strike for supplies when their own ran out.

“Aren’t they beautiful” asked Sergeant Timothy Slater as his two superiors came into the large assembly area.

“They sure are,” agreed the Captain, his eyes glued to the four big animals that were lounging on the rock floor.

They looked just like jaguars, the animals their genetic profiles were based on.  Large cats, with a body about one point eight meters long, massing around a hundred kilograms.  All turned their heads to look at the new arrivals, and Cornelius, looking into those fiery eyes set in larger than normal skulls, knew he was seeing more than a mere animal.  He had of course heard of the Super Jags.  Everyone had.  But they were so specialized in their employment that most soldiers never saw one.

“Captain Walborski,” said a man who walked forward with the grace of the augmented.  “I’m Staff Sergeant Mika Jefferson.  And these are my soldiers.”  He gestured back at the jaguars and the three other handlers.

“I’ve heard of them, but have never seen one up close,” said Cornelius, stepping a bit closer.  All four of the cats came to their feet and oriented on the Captain.

“As long as we’re near they’re harmless,” said the Staff Sergeant, walking over and placing his right hand on the head of one of the creatures.

“How do you control them?” asked the Top.

“They have implants in their heads, that link into the net we also use.  And they understand several thousand words.”

“That many?” said Slater after a whistle.

“They have just about the same intelligence as an unaugmented dolphin, and their vision is as good as yours, while their hearing and smell, of course, are a level of magnitude better.  And much more discriminating than the natural cats they spring from.”

“So they’re improved jaguars,” said Slater, shaking his head.  “They’re still kind of easy to see with that orange fur.”

“That orange fur, with the black rosettes, allows them to blend into the shadows,” said Jefferson.  “But when they are in different backgrounds, they can change their fur at will to blend in, like so.”

All of the cats seemed to blur slightly before the eyes of all the watchers, the color bleaching out of their fur until they were almost a perfect match for the brownish gray stone they were laying on.  They weren’t really invisible.  The Rangers could still seem their forms, and especially their eyes.  But they could all imagine how hard these beasts would be to pick up in a natural setting.

“They give off almost no scent,” said the Staff Sergeant.  “And they are very quiet, and smart enough to know when they need to be silent.”

“And if they need to attack?” asked Cornelius, looking over the cats and trying to figure out how he would fight them.

“Their muscles and nervous systems are augmented to the same extent that ours are,” said the Staff Sergeant.  “And their claws are coated with a monomolecular alloy in a carbon fiber sheath.   Wouldn’t want them to attack a Caca in battle armor, but against one without that kind of protection?  Well, my money would be on the cat.”

“How many days do you need to get them acclimated to the jungle?” asked Cornelius, now that the tracking animals were here, ready to get back into the jungle and hunt down some Cacas.

“A couple of days at least,” said Jefferson, nodding back at his charges.  “I’d like some of your people to show me around, while me and my people let the cats get the lay of the land.”

“I would be happy to lead you around, Sergeant,” said Cornelius, a smile on his face.  “I can’t wait to see your, children, operate.”  And I can’t wait to see how the Cacas react to them.

Chapter Four

And while the law of competition may be sometimes hard for the individual, it is best for the race, because it ensures the survival of the fittest in every department.

Andrew Carnegie.

GALACTIC SPACE APRIL 12TH, 1002.

“Your technology is wonderful,” said Slardra as she sat for dinner at the Commodore’s table.  This was the second visit of the Commander of the Klavarta task group to her ship, along with some of her officers.

The Commodore was still having a lot of trouble getting a grasp of this nation they had made contact with.  Obviously there were more or less standard humans at the top of the pyramid, and the Klavarta were actually genenged humans.  And it was obvious that the standard humans did not want the Ca’cadasans to know that they even existed.  It still was not clear what the status of the genenged humans were within their not empire.  Were they equal citizens, or merely slaves?

“You have hyper VII ships,” said Commander Alexandru Ionesco, the chief engineer of the Nina.  “And acceleration ranges well within our levels for the size of the ships you have.”  Actually, they seemed to have better acceleration rates on their ships, but mostly that was due to having oversized inertial compensators and grabber units on their vessels.  Which, of course, did point to a significant industrial capacity, since the production of supermetals was an energy intensive process.

“We reversed engineered most of what we have from tech we captured,” said the Klavarta engineer who had come across with his? Leader?  “From what we understand about your Empire, you have millions of scientists and engineers working on improving your technological situation.  While we do not, since our only scientist come from the Pure among us.”

“And the Pure are, what?” asked Sung, her eyes narrowing, thinking she already knew the answer to that question.

“The Pure humans, the predecessors,” said Slardra.  “Like you.  Not the impure, like other species, like ourselves, who are only meant to further the cause of the Overlords.”

“Do these, Pure humans, interact with you?” asked Sung, wondering how this differed from slavery, or a class system that was slavery in everything but name.

“The high command of the military and industrial sector interact with them all the time in the capital system,” said Slardra, her face taking on an expression that seemed to mirrored both ecstasy and disgust in a normal human.  “They, and the security forces are the only ones that have regular contact.  Others may be called to New Earth, as we call our capital among ourselves, or Klavarta when we are forced to interact with lesser species.  One day I hope I may look upon the creators in the flesh.”  Her mouth stretched into a wide smile that seemed to be somewhat false.  “But here I am, talking to ones that are like the creators themselves.  Immortal beings, but ones that are willing to put their precious lives in danger to seek out others of their kind.”  Now her smile looked much more genuine.

“Why do you call them immortal?”

“Because they do not die,” said the Engineer with an expression of confusion.  “They have lived for over a thousand years, their lives blessed with an endless duration.  We know they can die, but they always resurrect soon after, appearing to glow with the health of youth.  The same people.  Or at least that is what the priests tell us.”

Immortality? sent the Commodore to her staff over her implants.  Or something else?

“Not meaning to pry, but how old are you, Slardra?”

“I am thirty years old by the old calendar,” answered the Alpha Pilot.  “If I am fortunate, I will live to see fifty years.”

That short a life span, thought the Commodore with a sinking feeling.  “And how long do the other castes live?”  She felt that she was using their stature as Pure humans to get these creatures to volunteer information they might not have otherwise.  That caused a little guilt, but she had been sent out here to gather information on these people.

“Not as long as we do,” answered Slardra.  “The engineers live almost as long, while the tinkerers, what you call the engineer apprentices, live to twenty, twenty-five if they are exceptionally long lived.  While the warriors are fortunate to reach thirty.”

“And how fast do you mature?” asked Commander Beoit, the biologist.

“I had a comparatively long childhood, and did not graduate from my training until I was nearing twelve,” answered the Alpha.  “The shorter lived castes of course have much a shorter, briefer growth and development stage.  Between six and eight years.”

“My God,” said Benoit, his face showing his shock.  With their branch of humanity more years had always been the goal, until they seemed to run into a natural roadblock.  Almost everyone in the Empire, as well as the other human nations, lived to well beyond two hundred, some to three centuries, and they were vital and in good health all the way up to the last decade of that time.  And here were beings engineered, purposefully created to have lifetimes shorter than pre-space humans.  Again the question was why?

“I know that must seem a brief life span to immortals like yourself,” said Slardra.  “But it gives us enough time to do what we were made to do, what the creators need of us.  So we are fulfilled with that time.”

I don’t want a word said about our own life spans, sent Sung over her implant.  Let them think we are like their, creators, for the moment.  The more they think we are the same long lost cousins to those people, to more information they are bound to reveal.

“What of other species in your Empire?” asked Benoit, shaking his head at the last big revelation.

“There are no other species in our Empire, Commander,” answered the Alpha.  “Only humans exist within our space, unless the Monsters intrude.  And we do our best to make sure their intrusion is short lived.”

Benoit opened his mouth to speak, and Sung cut him off with a command over her implant.  I don’t want to pursue this line right now, Commander.  It may lead us to places we don’t want to go, at the moment.

“I have a question for you,” said Slardra.  “What are you doing with the smaller vessels attached to your ships.”

“The scout ships?” asked Sung, watching as the creature gave a very human head shake.   And they are genetically human, she had to remind herself once again.  “They were originally planned to be short range scouts when these vessels were envisioned.  We were supposed to send them out on side missions when we were stopped at an interesting system.  But since we started out on this voyage, we have found their lack of ability to reach hyper VII to be a major flaw, so I’m having engineering convert four on each explorer into hyper VII ships, cannibalizing the supermetals and other equipment from the two remaining ships.”

“I see.  So you will have twelve other vessels capable of reaching the higher dimension, essentially small warships.”

“They will still be explorers,” stated the Commodore, looking into the very human eyes of the being.  She knew that wasn’t strictly true, as they were also beefing up the laser photon emitters that fed into each ring.  Missiles were a bit more of a problem, but they were also looking into ways to increase their loadout as well.

“That is too bad,” said Slardra with a head shake.  “We can always use more warships.”

And you’re not going to get any from us until we figure out what is going on here, thought the Commodore.

After the meal Sung had some of her lower ranking staff show the Klavarta visitors more of the ship while she called a meeting of her higher ranked staff in another gathering place.  She only had her shipboard staff for this meeting.  It was a risk using their ship to ship com systems, especially since they weren’t sure of the capabilities of the Klavarta when it came to intercepting a signal and breaking its encryption.  So she sat at the head of the table with only her on-board staff, and thought it might be enough.

“So.  What did they mean with that comment about having no aliens in their star nation?” she asked to start the meeting going.

“Could they inhabit a region of the Galaxy that just happens to have no other intelligent species?” asked the Exec, Commander Laaksonen.  “I know it’s a stretch, but I really don’t want to believe these people are guilty of genocide.”

“I would prefer not to believe the people we were sent to contact were monsters as well,” said Commander Benoit, looking around the table.  “However, as a scientist, I cannot come to my conclusions based on what I want to happen.”

“And what do you think is the probability of a large region of the Galaxy not having any native intelligent species, Commander?”

“I would say it was very unlikely, ma’am,” replied Benoit, pulling up a holo of the known Galaxy.  “As we can see here, about one in sixty odd systems have indigenous life.  That was true near Earth, and it’s true in our sector of the Perseus Arm.  And so far it seems to be true in the space up the arm to antispinward as well.  About one in a hundred of these planets have intelligent life, maybe a tenth of those at the level of sentience needed to develop a civilization, eventually.  That comes out to about one intelligent species to sixty-seven thousand systems.  Since we have forty-five intelligent species in the Empire, this seems to be correct, and is so far proving to be the case for the newly explored space.  Add to that the number of different hype resonances we picked up on the way here, and the number of slave species the Cacas seem to have, and the ratio holds true for the explored Galaxy.  Now we can’t be sure this holds up all through the Galaxy, in the core regions for example, but it’s a smart bet to think it holds true for most of the stars in the Galactic arms.”

The holo switched a view to the portions of the Perseus and Sagittarian Arms that were occupied by the Klavarta.  Or at least what they were told was occupied by those beings.  It was perhaps a quarter of the area occupied by the Empire.  “Now we would expect, from the other samples, for this region to have at least fifteen intelligent species.  And they’re telling us there are none.  So, what happened?”

“It is not outside of the realm of statistical probability that this region simply had no other intelligent life,” said the Exec.

“No, it isn’t,” agreed Benoit.  “But until proven otherwise, I have to go with the hypothesis that this region of space is similar to all other regions we are familiar with.”

“And if the Cacas killed them off?” asked Major Saul Briggs, the Marine commander.

“As far as we know, the Cacas have killed off a total of two species through their entire history, while conquering over five hundred such,” said Benoit, switching the holo view to what they knew of the Ca’cadasan Empire.  It was a sprawling space, twenty-five times the volume of their own Empire.  “Why they would wipe out fifteen intelligent species in this area is something I can’t answer.  I don’t think that they did.  And, according to our friends, the Cacas don’t know that they’re facing humans across this space, the only other species they have promised to destroy.  So what is the simplest explanation?”

“That the people aboard Exodus IV killed off all of their competition,” said Sung in a quiet voice.  “That’s almost too monstrous to imagine.  Why would they do such a thing?”

“We don’t know that they did,” said Laaksonen, shaking his head.  “This is all speculation so far.”

That it is, thought Sung, looking between the two men, both biologists.  One looking at the facts and not liking what he saw, but not shying away from it.  The other refusing to believe that the saviors they had sought out could be monsters from their worst nightmares.  And which one is correct?

“I think the best thing we can do is reserve judgement until we have more facts,” said Sung, raising a hand as both commanders seemed ready to speak.  “We’re sending the information back to base through the wormhole com, which, thank God, these people seem to have no clue about.  Otherwise, we’re committed to visiting these people’s home system.”

“You don’t think we could beat these ships escorting us?” asked Fujardo, raising an eyebrow.  “Especially when we get the scouts up to VII capability?”

Sung stared at her Tac Officer for a moment.  She had no doubt that her almost sixty million tons of ships could defeat the couple of million tons of ships that surrounded her, especially if she struck first.  She also had no doubt that her ships would all sustain some degree of damage.  The last thing she would want for her command would to be in the middle of hostile territory in damaged ships.  “I think we could beat them, but don’t want to be involved in a shooting incident with these people.  Not yet.  And what is so funny, Mr. Laaksonen?”

“The way you keep calling them ‘these people’, ma’am.  As if you’re really not sure what to call them.”

“I’m not sure what to call them, Mr. Laaksonen,” she replied, her eyes narrowing.  “For all I know these people are the real monsters of this story.  Or they are just misunderstood, and we’ll have to wait until we have more information.  Anything else?”

“That warrior captain of theirs, the scary looking son of a bitch, dropped the name of their leader to the Sergeant who was giving him a tour of the Marine facilities,” said Major Briggs, closing his eyes as he went into his link.  The holo changed views over the table, going from a starfield to the image of a middle aged woman with light skin and dark hair, eyes the color of black pearls staring from a severe face.  “Marion Pallion.  There was a Marion Pallion listed as the Exec of the Exodus IV.  Ex Terran Defense Force Commodore, suborned under the Admiral who was the actual captain of the vessel.”

“That must be a relative,” argued Lt. Parata, the Sensor Officer.  “A descendant.  The same woman couldn’t be alive today.”

“The Klavarta Leader, Slardra, did say that some of the Pure humans, as she called them, were immortal,” said Benoit.  “So unless their Empire came up with a process that the best medical brains of ours own couldn’t, there must be another explanation.”

“Cloning?” growled Sung, shaking her head.  “Even the people of that time knew better than to do that.  What would have convinced them to even contemplate such a thing, much less implement it?”

“Remember, their ship was damaged when exiting the Sol system,” said Fujardo.  “There’s no telling how much damage they took, to the ship, or the passengers.  And they did have a mandate to continue the human race.”

“Again, all conjecture,” said Laaksonen.  “We really won’t know anything until we meet, these people, face to face.”

“Which we will do,” said Sung, looking around the table from face to face.  “Now I want to be sure that everyone in every division of this ship, and the others, knows what not to say, what questions not to ask.”

“And that includes our ability to communicate with base?” asked Laaksonen.

“Most especially that capability, Exec.  I want them to think we’re the only ones that have any kind of contact with them, and that we have no means of contacting our Empire without going back to them.   I want them to think we are on our own.  That may lead to different behavior on their part than if they knew we had instantaneous transmission back to our base.  And I especially demand that they not get a clue that we might be able to get help here if needed.”

“That could make things a little hotter for us, ma’am,” said the Tac Officer.

“That’s OK,” said Sung.  “Part of our mission is to find out what we’re really dealing with.  And that entails some risk.”

Chapter Five

Here’s a news flash: No soldier gives his life. That’s not the way it works. Most soldiers who make a conscious decision to place themselves in harm’s way do it to protect their buddies. They do it because of the bonds of friendship - and it goes so much deeper than friendship.

Eric Massa.

PLANET NEW MOSCOW APRIL 12TH, 1002.

Lt. General Samuel Baggett walked down one of the main thoroughfares of the camp, faceplate raised.  The odor was almost indescribable, the scent of unwashed bodies, millions of them, crammed too close together.  And underlying it all, the sickly sweet odor of death.  Baggett wondered what the odor had been like when the camp was filled to capacity.  Now it was at only half capacity, the other half having been moved out, most evacuated off planet.  There were still columns of humans walking out of the camp and toward the caverns under the mountains, heading for the wormhole.  Others were heading into the camp, to the lift shafts leading down to another wormhole.

Baggett looked up to the sky, a cloudless vault that would have been beautiful if not for the haze that seemed to be a permanent fixture after the battle.  The smoke and dust of multiple hundreds of large scale explosions had lifted the particulates into the air, where it would hang for years if measures weren’t taken to clean it out.  Baggett hoped that someday those measures would be taken, but first they had to beat the Ca’cadasan force that was in system to destroy them.

“Thank you,” yelled one of the New Muscovites, waving from ahead.

“Bless you and your Emperor,” called out another.

The calls kept coming, and some people ran out to clap him on his armored back or shake his hand.  Baggett felt somewhat aggravated by the delay, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face.  The expressions of these people showed hope for what had to be the first time in the months since the Cacas came here.  He looked around and saw that most of the people around had food in their hands, bowls or sandwiches, some with fruit.  Baggett remembered the huge depots that had sprung into existence overnight outside all of the camps, filled with all the food and supplies needed to return these people to health.  Large hospital tents had been erected, where hundreds of Imperial medical personnel were working on the weakest or most injured of the people.

We still need to get the rest of them out of here, he thought, feeling an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t scratch.  With a thought he ordered his suit’s nanite systems to take care of the distraction.  I wish I could ditch the damned armor, he thought.  They were still in a war zone, there were still armed Cacas on the planet, and orders from Army called for every combat soldier to remain in full battle gear until otherwise told.  The suits were supposed to take care of all their needs, providing breathable air when necessary, food and water when wanted, and recycling systems that would replenish them as long as the suit had energy.  Its batteries had just been changed out, and he should be good for a couple of weeks at normal operating power.  I still could do with a bath, he thought.  The suit nanosystems were supposed to keep him clean as well, but it just wasn’t the same.

Ahead were the people he had come to see, and he picked up his pace, the suit easily moving him along.  Two men and a woman were standing talking, one of the males gesturing to the impromptu gallows that had been erected in the cleared area before them.  Six bodies swung from the ropes of the gallows, while those who had sentenced them to death talked about the future of their people.  A little girl stood by the gallows, looking up at one of the bodies, tears streaking her face.   A woman came running up, calling out the name ‘Elizabeth’, then ushering the child off the field.

“Colonel Gorbunov.  Ms. Vakhrusshev,” called out Baggett as he caught their attention.

“General Baggett,” said Vahkrusshev, an agent of New Moscow Intelligence who had volunteered to come into the camp before the assault.  “We were just talking about you.”

“Why were the Rangers removed from the Camp?” asked Gorbunov, a former officer in the New Moscow PD.  “We were grateful for their intervention, and would like to express our gratitude.”

“The Rangers are assets that are needed elsewhere, Colonel,” said Baggett.  “We have enough heavy infantry now for reaction forces, and what we need now are hunters.  Which are what the Rangers excel at.”

Baggett looked up at the bodies on the scaffold.  “Were these all of them?”

“All that we know of,” said the third man, Sergie Baryshnikov, third cousin of the late Czar, Archduke of New Kiev, and, as far as they knew, the next in line for the throne of New Moscow.  “Collaborators are nasty business.  To sell out one’s own people, for the luxury of a little more food, and a delay of the day of death.  They deserve what they got.”

Baggett nodded.  He would have preferred to have put those people into a cell, interrogated them, and then executed them in a more humane manner.  But these people were under the jurisdiction of the provisional New Moscow government, of which these leaders standing before him were representative, one a probable future ruler.

“What word on the Caca fleet?” asked Baryshnikov, a frown on his face.

“We’re fighting them,” said Baggett, shaking his head.  “We’re trading ships and lives for time, but I can’t guarantee we’re going to stop them.  Which is why we’re still evacuating the people from your world.  And that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about, your Grace.  The Emperor would like to ask you again to evacuate the planet.  You are the dynasty, your Grace, and it would serve no one to have you die on this world.”

“And again, I must respectfully refuse, General,” said the Archduke.  “These are my people, and I will not abandon them.”

“You were fortunate enough that the Cacas didn’t come looking for you,” argued Baggett.  “If they had realized who you were, they would have used you against us, if they didn’t just go ahead and kill you.”

The Archduke stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head.

He feels guilty about what happened to his people.  Even though he was not the ruler during the invasion.  Even though there was really nothing he could do about it.  And now that guilt is going to make him stay here, when he needs to get his ass of this world.

“We will try our best to keep the Cacas away from this world, your Grace,” said Baggett, bowing slightly in his heavy armor.  “But we can promise nothing.  And in the meantime, we will try to get as many of your people off this world as we can before they get here.”

“No one can promise anything in such a chaotic time,” said the Archduke.  “All we can do is our best.”

Baggett saluted and turned away, walking quickly from the area before he did something stupid, like telling a royal jackass what a fool he was for trying to make a point that didn’t matter.  They would either get all of the people off the world in time, or they wouldn’t, and his sacrificing himself to make the Imperials work faster was not going to result in any faster evacuation.  Not when they were already doing everything they could.

*     *     *

NEW MOSCOW SPACE APRIL 12TH, 1002.

Great Admiral Jarrassand’ra Kiritopath glared at the tactical holo, his anger rising as he thought of the day that had just passed.  They had outnumbered and outmassed the enemy by a factor of twenty.  With odds like that the enemy should have avoided contact.  Instead, they had ambushed his force coming out of hyper, then had not run away like rational beings.  Instead, they had maneuvered on the periphery of his force and galled him with long range missile fire.  Most of them had paid for it with their lives and their ships, and he had exchanged with them at a rate of three of their tons for one of his.  Not a sustainable rate for an enemy, and another indication of their insanity.

Now he was boosting toward what was obviously an enemy held planet, and he had no idea what was waiting for him in orbit.  Whatever was there was switching up their grabber signals, and using holographic projections to spoof his visual systems.  Not that he thought he couldn’t take whatever was there, since if the humans thought they had enough to handle his force, they would be boosting for him.

“We have missile launch, my Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer, as a hundred red arrows appeared on the plot, less than a light minute ahead and boosting at fifteen thousand gravities.  Not really much of a strike, and they would not attain enough velocity for any of the individual missiles to be much of a threat.  But it was the second launch in the last ten minutes, all from heavily stealthed platforms, mines really, that were impossible to track until they were well within that one light minute range.

“They wish to slow us down, my Lord,” said the Great Admiral’s Chief Advisor.  “They think we will realize that the faster we are going, the more dangerous these nuisances will be.”

“Of course they do,” growled the Great Admiral.  And I wish I had brought along some of those who had faced these humans before, to give me their counsel.  But the Regional Commander had decided otherwise.  That unimaginative male had thought that the only way the conquest fleets that had attacked the humans could have failed was due to either cowardice or incompetence.  He had ordered the execution of all the group leaders and ship’s captains, and one in twelve of the junior leaders, and quarantined all of the rest of the officers and crew.

So he had been deprived of the only Cacada who knew anything about these humans.  Not those who thought they knew what was going on, that this was another weak species to be easily conquered, or in the case of these sentients, destroyed.  And I’ve already learned that they do not respond as expected.

“What are your orders, my Lord,” asked the Com Officer, waiting to transmit the commands of the Fleet Commander to the other ships, anticipating the order.

“All ships are to slow to two hundred gravities,” said the High Admiral, looking over at the Com Officer.  “Launch fighters from all scout ships.  We’ll let them probe ahead for these weapons.”  Hopefully they will find them.  If not, then I waste minimal crews and tonnage to trigger the trap.

“They can’t have seeded the entire system with these things,” said the Tactical Officer, highlighting their path from the hyper barrier to the planet.  “It seems to me that they must have known where we were going to enter from hyper well before we got here, then calculated a straight line least time profile to the planet.”

This one can think, thought the High Admiral, giving a head motion of agreement and satisfaction.  “Very well.  Curve our vector around to put us on another profile to the planet.  We’ll see if they can sow these things without us picking up the ships that are placing them.”

“My Lord,” called out the Com Officer.  “Outer pickets are picking up over a thousand vessels in hyper VI, heading into the system from twenty-three degrees south of coreward.”

“And I’m sure they are not ours,” said the Tactical Officer.  “Should we fire a barrage to reach them when they come into the system.”

“We have no way of predicting where these humans will be coming in to normal space,” said the High Admiral, giving a head motion of negation.

“Indications are about half human ships, the other half unknowns,” called out the Com Officer.

And that increases the chances of unpredictable behavior, thought the High Admiral, since we don’t even know who their allies are.

“Hold the missiles for now,” he ordered.  “We’ll probably need them when everything in the system has revealed itself.”  And you are not going to beat me, humans.  I will not experience the disgrace of the last males to face you.

*     *     *

“And I refuse to move my ships out of orbit, Admiral Lenkowski,” said Commodore Sheila Stepanowski of the Czar’s Navy.  “I don’t care if you are the ranking alliance officer on this operation.   I don’t care if the order comes from your Emperor himself.  I don’t care.  This is our capital world, and we will not abandon it again.”

Captain Vladimir Schmidt, sitting in his command chair on the bridge of the battleship Sevastopol, nodded his head in agreement as he watched the argument on a side com.  His ship was barely capable of making way, her offensive capabilities had been shot to shit, and he doubted she would last more than a minute against a Caca supercruiser, much less one of their battleships.  The entire New Moscow flotilla, six battleships, four cruisers and eleven destroyers, were at about half of their full strength.  But, like the other captains, he refused to budge from the orbit of the planet they had fought so hard to liberate.  A planet that still had four hundred million of his people on the surface.

Five hundred warships, the original assault group with reinforcement from the Imperial Home Fleet, was preparing to boost to rimward from the planet, hopefully decoying the Caca force, making them chase the only major force in sight.  He didn’t think they had a chance in a stand up fight against the Cacas either, and he knew they didn’t plan to get into one if they could help it.  What one wanted didn’t always translate into what one got, though.  And if the Cacas decided to ignore them, or split their force, something had to be here to guard the planet.  And it sure wasn’t going to be the several hundred freighters and support ships that were getting ready to head for the K class star that was the primary, so they could grav sling around it and head out in the opposite direction.

“I think that’s a stupid move, Commodore,” said Lenkowski.  “And I’m not sure how your government will view your actions, sacrificing ships and crew in a hopeless fight.”

“And when we have a government I will worry about that,” said the Commodore, anger dripping from her tone.  “Until then, I am the ranking naval officer of my fleet in this system, and my captains will follow my orders, not yours.”

“Very well,” said Lenkowski in a tone that said it was anything but very well.  “Just try to stay alive until I get there.   We should be entering the system in another thirty-eight hours.”

The holo went blank, and Schmidt felt the loneliness of his ship’s position really hit him.  They didn’t even have the Imperial stealth/attack ships to back them up.  They had cut loose their wormhole gates and gone back out into the system, fulfilling the function of minelayers for the moment.

“Are we going to continue the deception plan?” Schmidt asked over the personal link to his Commodore.

“Why not,” said the Commodore with a shrug of her shoulders.  “We have the devices in orbit with us, so why not keep randomizing their algorithms.”

Vladimir nodded.  His ship’s tactical department was running a score of the ten thousand ton decoys themselves.  The decoys were among the newest of the toys the New Terran Empire had developed.  They could be set to mimic almost any kind of graviton emission, from a destroyer up to a battleship, at any apparent acceleration level.  Right now they were mimicking several hundred warships in orbit around the planet, while projecting holographic images around themselves of those same vessels.  The decoys could only operate at full capacity for about twenty-six hours before they overheated, or a much longer time at a much lower setting.

And we also serve who sit in orbit and pretend to be what we are not, thought the Captain with a smile.

*     *     *

Bryce Suttler was in one of those stealth/attack ships, cum minelayers, Seastag, one of the twenty-five ships that remained of the thirty-two he had brought into the system.  At the moment Seastag and six of her sisters were busy dropping in front of the new path the aliens were on.  His was one of four groups, each arranged at what was thought to be a likely avenue for the aliens to take if they decided to avoid the mines that they were now sure were in their way.  There actually were mines there, but not as many as the enemy thought.  And there were three more ambushes set.

“That’s the last of ours, sir,” called out the Tactical Officer.  The ship had configured her internal wormhole into a gate at the stern, and the vessel, drifting inward at five thousand kilometers a second, had dropped twenty of the two hundred and fifty ton mobile missile launchers that served the purpose of mines in her wake.  Each launcher contained a hundred and fifty ton missile encased in a package that provided long range passive sensors and stealth systems.  Between the seven vessels they had emplaced one hundred and forty mines, which were now decelerating at a sedate ten gravities, undetectable from an object their size at almost any distance.  The stealth ships would coast in another million kilometers in a little over three minutes, and drop another twenty devices each.  The other ships, those who had been deployed on paths that were now no longer of any importance, were starting their maneuvers to get into some kind of attack profile.

But we’re not going to win this battle with stealth and striking out of the dark, thought the Commodore who knew the ships better than anyone.  We’re going to need some firepower.

“Is the Admiral getting our take of the enemy?” he asked his Com Officer, turning away from the plot.

“Yes, sir,” replied the officer.  “They’re getting the takes from all the ships in our task force.”

And I hope it’s enough of what they’re looking for to do some good.

*     *     *

“That’s the one we’re looking for, Admiral,” said Rear Admiral Kelso, highlighting one enemy ship on the holo that displayed the entire Ca’cadasan force.  “That is the brains of the operation.”

Fleet Admiral Jerry Kelvin looked at the blinking dot, which was very near the center of the enemy formation, where a flagship would tend to be.  It was well known that the Cacas, on the whole, were not the sharpest pencils in the box.  Most people would not have even understood where that reference came from, though everyone understood the meaning.  Cacas were not the brightest of species as a whole, something to do with their slow metabolism, which led to long life spans.  They could think deeply over periods of time, but were not that quick on the uptake.  Except for some exceptional specimens who could be frightfully intelligent, and those tended to rise in rank, quickly.

“The take from our wormhole equipped ships say that this is the com hub of that force,” continued Kelso, and the forty-one ships that were arrayed around the enemy force, from ten light minutes to a light hour out, blinked on the plot.

Kelvin shook his head.  This was an advantage that no commander in the history of the human race had ever enjoyed.  There was always some com bleed off from ships communicating, whether it was broadcast, maser or laser.  Ships that happened to get in the way of that bleed could calculate the direct line to the transmitting station or vessel.  When several vessels were involved, they could triangulate to the ship or station.  The limiting factor had always been the light speed transmission barrier, but the wormhole com system had defeated that limitation.  Now all of the ships could send their data to the command ship at the same time, and they could triangulate to almost perfection.

“Calculate firing solutions for all wormhole launcher equipped ships,” commanded Kelvin, wishing that his own vessel, the super heavy battleship Constance the Great, was in a position to engage.  She had been involved in the fight near the barrier, and had not only sustained damage, but had been forced to run outward from the barrier to survive.  What he did have were two more of the same class of ship within a half light hour of the Caca force, plus the three superbattleships with a single launcher each, giving him seven of the weapons.  The computers aboard Constance sent their information and recommendations to the other vessels, giving them their launch times and trajectories.  At the proper times each ship launched, sending thirty missiles through each launcher, two hundred and ten of the one hundred and fifty ton missiles, speeding along at point nine light, all powered down with the exception of their electronic brains and passive sensors. They had been launched on a trajectory that would bring them into their target when it reached the point it would be at the time of impact.  Coming in from five different angles.  In a little over thirty three minutes the missiles would reach those targets.  If all went according to plan, they would come cruising into the enemy fleet unnoticed until they were seconds from contact.

It took five minutes to realign the wormholes around the central black hole with another set of launchers.  At that point another two hundred and ten missiles came out of the launchers, these on wider spreads that would carry them into the enemy to hopefully hit random targets.

*     *     *

“We’re one minute from translation, Admiral,” said the reptilian officer who manned the navigation console.

The Admiral in Command of the Combined Republic and Crakistan Fleet brought in a deep breath through her snout, banishing the small bit of anxiety that was still within her.  I don’t have to win this battle, she thought, looking at the tactical holo that was being transmitted over the wormhole com.  I just have to delay, until the human battle fleet gets here.  And if the human Admiral, Kelvin, does what he said he would, it will make it much easier to outthink these, Cacas.

“First ships translating, now,” called out the Navigator in the sibilant voice of his species.

Those ships, squadrons of Crakistan and Republic scouts, were the first to enter normal space, their active sensors sending out blasts of energy to search for anything that might be there that wasn’t supposed to be.  There were Imperial ships close by, guarding this translation point, so the odds were there wouldn’t be anything there waiting for them.  Still, it made sense to adhere to the best practices for entering hostile space, which this essentially was.

“Targeting solutions coming in,” called out the Tactical Officer.  The wormhole com was feeding the tactical information to the flagship, while its computers were crunching the data for all of the ships in the force.

“Translating, now,” said the Navigator, the lights of the bridge dimmed for a moment and the queasy feeling came over everyone aboard the ship.  The Crakistan as a species were easy translators, and most of them recovered in seconds, while the humans aboard the flagship and the human vessels took moments longer.  It wasn’t enough to slow down the strike that had been planned prior to the translation.

Normally, ships had to take some time to acquire targeting data when entering a system.  While they could get a general idea of the number of ships in a system by the graviton emissions, they could not in general pinpoint exactly where those ships were.  The information coming over the wormhole com had given them a detailed view of the system, and they no longer had to take that time.

Seconds after translation every ship in the force was receiving that targeting information, and moments later the commit panels before each capital ship’s tactical officer lit.  Hundreds of organic palms slapped down on the panels, giving permission for the ships’ tactical computers to engage and carry out the program.  Hundreds of ships released their full volleys, sending them toward the enemy fleet.  They continued firing volleys until four had been released, and tens of thousands of weapons were heading for the enemy force, giving them something else to think about.

*     *     *

High Admiral Jarrassand’ra Kiritopath stared at the incoming missiles, over forty thousand of them, heading for his force.  An equal number were on the way out, heading for an enemy force that was now boosting into the system.  It would take about six hours for the enemy missile storm to reach his force, and over twelve for their ships to get within any kind of energy range.  His own missiles would reach the enemy force in about five hours, and he was sure, due to their having fewer, less capable ships than he did, they would not do as well handling his attack.

What he didn’t know was that two hundred and ten weapons, traveling at point nine light, were less than a light minute from impact, coming in fully stealthed, set to power up when they were ten light seconds away.  The missiles were very hard to detect, but not impossible.  The closer they came the more likely their discovery.  And even when they were picked up by the outer screen, the warning that would come in by grav wave would only be seconds ahead of the strike.

It was unlikely that something would get in the way of a missile by chance, but chance does happen, and in this unlikely case a Caca scout ship, which picked up the missile three seconds before contact at a range of just over two light seconds, was struck by a missile that carried more kinetic energy than the power of its one gigaton warhead.

The High Admiral heard the shouts of alarm as the six hundred thousand ton scout ship disappeared from the plot, no longer producing the gravitons the flagship was tracking it by.  The scout ship was ten light seconds to the side of the flagship, and the human missiles were heading in on an intercept course that would strike the flagship in just over eleven seconds.  Five of those seconds were wasted in confusion before the close in defense systems were brought online.

Six seconds was not enough time to sort out targets and assign priorities.  Every ship that could fired on what was closest to them.  There were some hits, and a score of weapons flared into bright points of fury, a few sending waves of heat and radiation into the nearest ships.  The flagship engaged two missiles that were homing in, blasting both from space, one within fifty thousand kilometers.  The next four hit as close together to be essentially simultaneous, impacting with scores of gigatons of kinetic energy that shattered the superbattleship, converting the vessel and all aboard to plasma and small particles.  The four, one gigaton warheads detonated almost as an afterthought, while the antimatter aboard breached with additional hundreds of gigatons of force.  And with that, the two brightest Cacas in the force were removed from the chain of command.

The blast destroyed several score of the incoming missiles, detonating their warheads and adding little to the destruction.  A dozen more flew through the fury and into the plasma cloud, exploding on contact with the spreading matter.  Over a hundred kicked in the grabbers, boosting at ten thousand gravities, engaging their ECM and sensors and homing in on secondary targets.  Now every ship could see them, and over half the missiles were engaged and destroyed, while the other half took out twelve more ships, and damaged over thirty others.

When the second wave came along five minutes later the Cacas were ready for them, or as ready as anyone could be against fast moving missiles that were not boosting.  Still, they were firing lasers along the approach paths that the first wave had come through, and some missiles were destroyed, then more as they got closer and kicked in their grabbers.  It was still not enough time for the standard defensive response, not enough time to engage with long range counters, not even enough for the short range interceptors to get into the act.  The cost was another twenty-three ships destroyed, another thirty some damaged.

Moments later they ran into the next minefield, which gave them something more to think about.

*     *      *

Thirty-three hours normal Galactic time to the system, thought Grand Fleet Admiral Lenkowski, watching the tactical plot closely.  They were now under point ninety-four light, their electromagnetic field strong enough to protect them from their velocity generated particle radiation.  Medical had just been around with nanite boosters, and the Admiral was already feeling better, though he wasn’t sure how much of that was psychological.

He didn’t like what the plot was showing him.  Kelvin was still scattered about the outer system, keeping track of the Cacas and hitting when and how he could.  He only had three hundred ships, and most of them had at least some damage.   He had four hundred and fifty ships in the inner squadron, less some that were still in orbit as decoys, which were moving at a right angle to the incoming Cacas, and were posturing to threaten their flank if they kept coming on.  And the joint Crakistan/Republic fleet was still heading into the system, bracing for the oncoming missile swarm the Cacas had launched at them, while their own missiles were heading into the Caca force.  He expected the friendly force to get the worst of that exchange, and he was surprised the Crakistan Admiral hadn’t taken the option of deceling as soon as she entered the system, with the option of heading out and jumping into hyper before the missiles got there.  He understood her thinking, that if they remained in the system and heading for the Cacas, she might force them to react to her and slow their advance toward the planet.  Still, it was a hard way to force a reaction, putting her entire fleet at risk.

Len had skirmished with the Crakistans early in his career, and found them to be an honorable but tenacious foe.  They were turning out to be an honorable and tenacious ally.  And then there was his force.  He had no doubt he would destroy the Caca force when he arrived in the system, but the question was, would anything be left there to defend when he translated in?

Chapter Six

Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.

Carl Sagan.

APRIL 12TH, 1002.

Sean sat back in the comfortable chair in the conference room, the chamber lent to him by the planetary governor and within that official’s palace.  It was just a spacious and luxuriously appointed as what he was used to in the Emperor’s palace.  Of course, there was only so much that could be done to a conference room, and a rich society like the Empire would make sure that all such chambers met the minimum standards of the elite who would be using them.

An image shimmered in one of the chairs, firming up to become the hologram of Samantha Ogden Lee, his cousin and regent.  Hopefully in the near future she would work herself out of a job, and the Empress would handle her duties when Sean was away from the capital.  But the learning curve for dealing with the politicians and bureaucrats of the Imperial Government was a steep one, and intelligent as Jennifer was, it would take time.  Her image faded into existence in the chair next to Samantha, and Sean’s implant told him that they were both in the same chamber in the Imperial Palace.  Next in was the military delegation; Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom, the Chief of Naval Operations; the Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, the  Army Chief of Staff; and Field Marshal Betty Parker, the  Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps.  Their images stood and saluted, and Sean waved them back to their seats.

Prime Minister Countess Haruko Kawasaki and the Baron Emile von Hausser Schmidt, the Leader of the House of Lords, were next to appear.  Lord T’lisha, the  Phlistaran Minister of Security  and Ekaterina Sergiov, the Chief of the Imperial Intelligence Agency were the last to arrive, and all of the attendants were there.  Missing were the other leaders of the Parliament, and the rest of the Cabinet Ministers.  For now the people here were all he wanted here, sworn to secrecy.  The others could be brought in later, when the time was right.

“I assume everyone has read the reports from Commodore Sung,” began Sean, looking around the chamber at all the virtuals who were attending this meeting.  He was the only one who was actually here, even his Secret Service detail restricted from this meeting, forbidden from monitoring the room.  “And, of course, have seen the vids she has sent through the wormhole.”

“I for one thought the warriors were frightening,” said Jennifer with a grimace.  “And I’m not sure I like the manner in which they were engineered.”

“I have some reservations about that myself, your Majesty,” said Baron von Hausser Schmidt.  “And I have to wonder about the utility of creating constructs with such short life spans.  It seems like the survivors of the Exodus IV have taken to playing God.”

“But they had reason to make them that way,” protested Field Marshal Parker, clenching her fists.  “They’re facing the same murderous bastards we are, and did what they had to do to survive.  As far as they knew, they were the last humans left in the Universe, so they used a science that they were expert at and made the best weapon they could.”

“But, why make them so short lived?” asked Samantha, her expression showing her distaste for the whole thing.

“So they would move faster, mature faster, grow to adulthood at a faster pace,” said Grand Marshal Yamakuri.  “And we do the same thing with our enhanced soldiers.”

“Not really, Grand Marshal,” growled Lord T‘lisha in his basso voice.  “We do not create augmenteds that have no choice in what they are going to be.  We only work with adult volunteers, people who know what they are getting into.  These people are given an abbreviated life as warriors for this Empire without asking their permission.”

“Sung was sent to make contact with people who could aid us in the war,” said Parker, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the image of the big Phlistaran.  “I would say that she found what she was looking for.  The policies of this other human Empire are their own business.  I say as long as they are powerful, and able to aid our cause, we should in return give them all the tech and material aid they need to fight the Cacas.”

“But, genocide,” said Jennifer, almost spitting out the last word.  “How can we ally ourselves with a power that wipes out entire intelligent species?”

“That’s all conjecture at this point,” said Yamakuri.  “Based on a few comments by the Klavarta, and some guesswork by Sung and her staff.  We’ll have no way of determining what the truth is until we get more information.”

Sean looked over at his one military leader who hadn’t spoken yet.  “What’s your feeling on this Sondra?”

The woman looked around for a moment, as if afraid to speak out.  Sean raised a hand to keep anyone else from speaking for a moment, then looked the question at his CNO.

“I, really don’t feel right about these people, your Majesty,” said McCullom, closing her eyes.   “I don’t think I can put it in words, but it feels wrong.  Like we’re about to get into bed with evil to fight evil.”

“Just like the Soviets in the Second World War, on old Earth” said Samantha, nodding.  “I get the same feeling.”

Everyone at the table closed their eyes for a moment, going into link, looking up the reference.

“That might be appropriate, your Majesty,” said McCullom, opening her eyes.  “Stalin was an evil bastard, and his government one of the worst totalitarian regimes in history.  But he was in the war, and it made sense to jump into bed with him.”

“In bed with the devil,” said the Prime Minister.  “And look at all the problems that came along after the war because the Western Powers propped up that regime during the conflict.”

“And if the Soviet Union had fallen to Hitler, what would have been the result?” said Parker.  “If Germany had won, all of those problems with the Soviets would have gone away.  But can we say the problems of a Germany ruling Europe have been any better?  The Western allies of the time didn’t think so.”

“Again,” cautioned Yamakuri, raising a hand, “this talk of genocide is pure conjecture.  Something we have absolutely no proof of.  And until we do, I advise that we don’t jump to conclusions.  Sung and her people should continue with their mission, meet the leaders of these people, and find out.”

“I don’t think they really have much of a choice,” said McCullom, a troubled expression on her face.  “After all, they are in the lair of the beast, if such they turn out to be.  But if these people, as Sung calls them, do turn out to be genocidal bastards, I recommend we bring her and her crews back through the wormhole while they’re stopped in a system, then self-destruct their ships.  That way we leave them alone, and they leave us alone.”

“I think we need these people,” said Yamakuri, staring at the image of his fellow service chief.  “We won’t get another chance to enlist these Klavarta on our side.  No matter what the back story is on them.  If they turn out to be devils, we can deal with that side of them after the war.”

“And if they use our aid to exterminate more sentient species in their region?” asked Samantha.

“We don’t know that they have done that,” protested Parker.

“But if we find out that they have?” asked Samantha, refusing to be dissuaded.

“Then we will not deal with their leadership,” said  Sean.  “But we will wait until we find more about them before we jump to conclusions.”

Sean sent a personal message to Lord T’lisha and Chief Sergiov asking them to come back into conference in a couple of minutes, then dismissed everyone else, except for his wife.

“See,” he told Jennifer, smiling.  “I did not go into the war zone.  I kept my promise.”

“And when will you be coming home?” she asked, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Sean wanted to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, but right now she was only a laser projected image in the room.  “Very soon,” he finally said.

“Please,” she said, a small smile on her face.

“I know you miss me, but is anything happening on Jewel that I need to know about?”

“The news people are driving me crazy, as usual.  And Parliament seems to get a little crazier every day.  Other than that, it’s the same old thing.”

“I will be back as soon as the situation is under control out here,” he promised, wondering if the situation would ever be under control as long as the Cacas were around.

“I don’t want you to step foot in that system as long as there is still a threat,” said Jennifer in a stern voice.  “Remember, you promised me you would not go to the front.”

“And I won’t step foot there until we’ve ejected the Cacas,” said Sean, leaving out that there might still be Cacas loose on the ground when he did go.

“OK.  Now don’t pull something on me, or you can expect a cold welcome home.”

I’m the most powerful man in the Empire, the most powerful star nation in this region, and I still have to worry about how the woman I love feels about me, just like the lowliest commoner in my realm.  Sean smiled at the thought as Jennifer faded from the room.

A moment later he pulled up the holo of the tactical situation in New Moscow, staring at it with total concentration.  The situation had improved, a little.  But it was still in the balance.  And there was nothing he could do about it that he hadn’t already done.

*     *      *

NEW EARTH  APRIL 13TH, 1002.

Chairwoman Marion Pallion looked at the production figures from the eight largest military systems in her Empire.  It was so much easier when all I had to worry about were the ships in my squadron, she thought.  She wondered why she still even remembered those days, two thousand years in the past, before the coming of the Monsters and the flight of all that was left of humanity.

The production figures were about what she expected, but not as much as what she had hoped.  I must have words with Director Coleman, she thought, though she wasn’t sure what the conversation would avail her.  Dennis Coleman was the best man for the job of Director of Production.  After all, he had become a self-made billionaire on Earth, building one of the preeminent space based corporations in the Sol system.  If he couldn’t squeeze more production out of the facilities they had at hand, no one could.  There had been talk of building more, but first they needed more engineers, and the new ones they had bred up would not be ready for working production for another two to five years.

Marion stood up from her desk, signaling through her implant for a servant to bring her a drink, while she stepped up to the mirror that sat above the credenza.  She ran a hand through her medium length straw colored hair, her eyes narrowing as she saw the new wrinkles on her face.  There were still decades, maybe forty years, before she would be forced to take a new body.  But vanity made her want another right now, to recapture the beauty of her youth, as she had recaptured it a score of times before.  Why not, she thought.  She had bodies in storage, the clones all the Pure human leaders kept for spare parts in case of accidents, or for emergency transfers  Those clones were just meat, with no consciousness, less than animals.  Just as this body was discardable, a throwaway, as long as her memories and personality were transferable to the new form.

“Your drink, my Goddess,” said the servant, a geneformed slave that had more original human in her than the warriors and producers.

Marion turned toward the slave, who knelt on the floor with a tray in her hands, a moisture beaded glass containing fine scotch on the rocks.  The woman had her eyes turned to the floor, knowing she would be punished if she made eye contact with her superior being.

Goddess, thought the Chairwoman with a smile.  Dimitre von Scheldt had come up with that fiction, on the belief that it would reduce the chance of revolt if their subjects thought they were under the command of undying deities.  Whether that worked?  Marion was pretty sure it didn’t, since the beings they ruled were as intelligent as they could make them.  Since the war had started the chance of that revolt had dropped to nothing, since all energies were focused on defeating the monsters.

We need to meet, she sent out over her implant to the other eleven members of the council.  It was time to start planning for the next offensive, and the Directors needed to get on the same page and start their Pure human staffs working on the problem.  And they needed to talk again about sending a mission to the other power that was fighting the monsters.  There were rumors that they were human as well, though the Chairwoman wasn’t sure she believed that tale.  After all, their ship had barely escaped, and at the cost of all of their passengers, and the genetic banks, only a small percentage of the crew surviving.  Why would another of the Exodus ships fare any better?

The acknowledgements came back, and Marion took a sip of her drink, then looked at the slave.  They’re all slaves, after all, she thought, staring at the creature who had been raised to servitude.  Only Pure humans were considered to be free in this society, and there were only about fifty million of them, descendants of the crew, all, with the exception of several thousand supervisors in other industrial systems, in this one.

Marion walked into the conference room to see that three of the Council were already in attendance, two physically, one as a holo image.  One of the live members was Dennis Coleman, and the almost black eyes of the man glared angrily at her as she stopped for a moment to look over the room.  The man’s ebony face was a mask, but the eyes still told of his anger toward the Chairwoman.  And what the hell does he have up his ass today, she thought.  Kamiko Hyashi, a Japanese woman, was also in the room, while Gokben Tarhan, a female from Turkey, attended by image, since she was actually on one of the other moons of the brown dwarf system.

Moments later the images of the Englishman, Willard Smyth, and Graca Casimiro, Portuguese, popped in, while Dorothee Chevalier and Ivan Ikanov walked into the room, chatting amicably.  Marion waited impatiently for the last four members of the Council to come in.  Three popped in over the next five minutes, Chamai Bhandawa, a man from Zimbabwe; Jiang Zhou, a giant of a man from China; and Rajani Dasgupta, a female Hindi.  Moments later Tamati Motlap came running into the room, whispering his apologies in his Melanesia accent.

Marion, who had hailed from America herself, looked around the room for a moment, waiting for everyone to finish their greetings to each other.  She looked from face to face, seeing a microcosm of the people of Ancient Earth, a world that no longer existed.  That thought brought up a rage that had her clenching her fists and her teeth for a moment before she got control of her emotions.  She said her calming words, lowering her blood pressure and taking control of the parasympathetic system.  Marion had noticed that the rages had been increasing over the centuries, when they should have been decreasing.  She opened her eyes, seeing all the other people in the room staring at her, some with angry looks on their faces.  What the hell are you looking at, she thought.  You all have the same rages.

“What did you ask us to come here for, Marion?” said Coleman, the Director of Production, who always seemed to be working.

“We need to come to a consensus about the next ten year plan,” she told him, wishing she could make part of the plan getting rid of him.  But even though she had been the leader for the last two thousand years, everyone at this table had power, and blocks of them had much more than she did.

“First off, we need to industrialize more systems,” said Coleman.  “The Monsters have reacted to our success by bringing greater forces against us.  To counter this we must produce more of everything.  Not just warships and weapons.  We can produce all that we are capable of, but if we don’t build up the means of production, we will continue to fall behind.”

“And if we don’t continue to build those ships and weapons at our best rate we will eventually be overwhelmed,” said Hayashi, the Director of War.  “I agree we need more antimatter to power what we have.  But building up that production also opens up a new can of worms, since we will need greater forces to defend them.”

“What about expanding the abilities of our workforce and warriors?” asked Bhandawa, the Director of Personnel.

“We have reached the end of the genetic rope,” said Tarhan, a biologist and the Director of Biomedical Improvement.  “I don’t see how we can squeeze out any more advantages from our genome.  Remember, we originally programmed the best possible forms for what we needed.  Making the best possible form only made it harder to improve that form, which is not a bad thing.  But it is reality.”

Everyone in the room closed their eyes for a moment, recalling the information from the memory banks of the planetary computers, where most of their memories were stored.  That was another problem they had run into with their expanded lifespans.  Even though the capacity of their minds had been increased through genetic improvement, it was still not enough.  They had solved the problem by only using their organic brains to store salient memories and the memory nodes of everything else they had ever learned.  The rest of the information was stored in the local computer system, and when a node was activated by the normal cognitive search function, the computer would download the information into their minds.  New information would later be uploaded with connections to the nodes they corresponded to.  Over time they would forget that information, as it was no longer needed, but it was always accessible.

Everyone opened their eyes, the past decisions and conversations replaying in their minds.  Marion nodded her head, agreeing that they had talked about what Tarhan had said, and that she had agreed with the goal at the time.  It was the only possible correct decision, as making their warriors and workers to a lower standard just so they could be improved in the future made no sense, when they had needed them to be a perfect as possible at the time.

“So that’s a dead end,” she said, nodding to Tarhan.  She looked over at the Director of War.  “It seems like we are doing well at the moment.  Could we not cut back on military production for a time while we expand our industrial base?”

“If we hadn’t have backed ourselves into this system in the first place, we wouldn’t have the problem of industrial capacity,” growled Coleman.  “You know I lobbied for a more capitalist system, and more use of the Pure strain of our species for our struggle.”

“And you know that we couldn’t afford to let the Monsters know we still existed,” said Casimiro, the physicist of the group.  “We needed something to be the face of our resistance, and the Klavarata forms were it.  And we couldn’t give our physical and genetic superiors equal rights without the risk of them taking over.”

Marion nodded.  While the Klavarta forms (and the name had been her idea, more circumlocution to confuse the Monsters they fought), had been the product of the human genome, no one on the Council really thought of them as human, or endowed with any kind of rights that the Pure form enjoyed.

“I think we may have to rethink our tactics as well,” said Chavalier, the Director of Education and Training.  “They may have worked well in the past, but our losses have increased exponentially over the last couple of years.”

“The swarming tactics are still killing the Monsters’ ships,” argued Hayashi.

“But isn’t it true that the Monsters are changing their own tactics?” said Zhou, the Director of Intelligence, and a man who should already know the answer to his own question.  “They are changing the weapons loadout of their ships to deal with our own tactics, and are killing our ships and warriors in ever increasing numbers.”

“We are working on new designs,” said Hayashi, shaking her head.  “But I do not think building monster ships like the Monsters is the answer.”

“They can handle a lot more punishment than ours,” shouted Zhou.  “Why are you so stubborn?  You’re supposed to be our best military mind, but you have no flexibility of thought.”

“Like you could do better, you Chinese piece of shit,” roared the small woman.

“At least I’m not a little devil like you, you militant bitch,” countered Zhou.

“I will have none of this,” yelled Pollion, slamming her hand down on the table.  She was glad she had insisted on these two, who were constantly reliving the animosity of their two peoples, not both attend these meetings live.  She could imagine them coming to actual blows.  “We will have a civil discussion, or I will exclude one or both of you from these meetings, and will pass on the decisions of the rest of the Council to you.”

Both Directors stared at her resentfully, but she could tell that she had gotten her point across.  All of the directors liked their positions and the power it gave them.  They might aspire to even more, and Pallion was always looking over her shoulder at Directors who wanted to take her place.  None wanted to be excluded from the discourse that in their minds proved their wisdom and ability to rule.

“We will commission a study by our military scientists of what would be the best configuration and loadout to battle the new Ca’cadasan tactics,” she said, looking from Zhou to Hayashi.  “I know that Zhou is not a general or admiral, but he does know weapons.”  The Chinese scientist had been one of Earth’s preeminent weapons engineers before the Ca’cadasan attack.  “You, Kamiko, will have your brain trust look over the tactical aspects of the designs Jiang will send to you.  I want your cooperation.  Remember, we need to work together to ensure the survival of the species.  We are all that are left, and we must not let personality conflicts get in the way.  The only way we are going to win this war is by sticking together.  As Franklin said, we must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

The two Directors in question nodded yes, but still refused to look at each other.  Pallion sighed, realizing she would have to be satisfied with their cooperation, no matter how strained.  “Anything else we need to talk about?”

“Yes, Madame Chairman,” said Hayashi.  “I think we need to talk about the increasing scout intrusions of the Monsters.  We have noted that the scout groups have increased over the last half year.  And if we’ve found a couple of hundred of them, I’m sure the real number is double.”

“I have to agree with Hayashi,” said Zhou to the surprise of them all.  Pallion was not surprised.  Zhou had been an intelligence officer with the Terran Union before the Monsters came, and was still proud of his professionalism.  “In fact, the percentage of what we haven’t found to what we have may even be higher.”

“And your point is?” asked Ikanov in his heavy Russian accent.

“That they may have found out more about us than we would wish,” said Zhou, narrowing his eyes at the Russian.  “We have a pretty good idea about what the ones we do find have observed, but the ones that sneak in, look, and get away?  We have no idea what they may have found.”

“And how likely are they to look here?” asked Ikanov, whose area was Internal Security.  “That was the reason we chose this system for our capital, since red dwarves are so damn common.”

“It is statistically improbable that they would find this system,” said Zhou.  “But definitely not impossible.”

“And that would be another reason to not keep all of our eggs in this one basket,” said Ikanov, who had always been a proponent on spreading out their Pure human assets.  “If they happen to find us here, and we don’t know about it, we could experience a full scale attack without any warning.”

“And how would they find this system?” asked Bhandawa.  “There is really nothing here to attract them.”

“And how much traffic comes into this system on a daily basis?” asked Ikanov.  “And who knows who is sitting out there in interstellar space keeping track of the emissions of all those ships.”

That brought a lot of stares and shocked expressions, and Pallion knew she had to calm them before they started demanding a change in policy.  She still thought it was best to keep all the Pure humans here, because it was less likely they would be discovered, and the monsters would redouble their efforts to get at the hated humans if they knew.

Only seventy-two of the original crew survived, of which sixty-one had agreed to the cloning and mind uplink procedure when it became necessary.  Of those, there were only forty-three still around, due to some giving up on resurrection after several iterations.  Another couple of hundred Pure humans had been gifted with immortality.  They were the ones that ran the facilities in other systems, on the agreement that they would completely destroy themselves before they allowed themselves to be seen by the monsters.  With the promise that their mind uploads would be put into another body, and they would live again.

“We will discuss this at a later date,” said the Chairwoman, looking at each face in turn.  “I think we have enough to handle right now.”

The virtual images blinked out first, then those present started from their seats and toward the door.  Kamiko Hayashi stayed for a moment, and Marion knew the Japanese woman wanted to have a word with her that the others were not a part of.  Part of the job, thought the Chairwoman.  The hardest part was remembering who told her what, so she didn’t breach their trust.

“Yes, Kamiko?” she asked, looking at the woman with a smile.

Chapter Seven

Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.

Winston Churchill.

NEW MOSCOW SPACE APRIL 14TH, 1002.

Captain Vladimir Schmidt stared at the holo, set to the space a quarter light hour out from the planet of New Moscow.  His death was on that holo in the form of the Ca’cadasan fleet that was heading right at him.  And all he had was one battered old battleship, no missiles and only half his beam weapons.  Sevastopol had been battered in the battle of the New Moscow orbit.  He had lost two thirds of his crew, dead or injured, and the ship could barely make fifty gravities.

His was not the only Czar’s ship in orbit.  In fact, every New Moscow Navy vessel that had participated in this part of the system fight had stayed in orbit.  Every captain, including Schmidt, had given their functioning crew the option of leaving their ships and transferring other allied vessels.  None had taken advantage of the offer.  The Spacers and Marines of New Moscow were still trying to live down the shame of their crime of surviving the coming of the Cacas, and they were not about to abandon their people again.

“They’ll be here in a little over three hours, sir,” said the Tactical Officer, standing behind his Captain’s chair while techs worked on his station.

“Any chance of using the plasma torpedoes?” asked Schmidt of his officer.  Three of the four plasma torpedo projectors were still functional, one forward, two aft.

“They will probably start firing their beam weapons at us from a light minute out,” said the Tactical Officer with a shake of his head.  “We won’t be able to hit them with the torpedoes until they’re within two light seconds.”

Schmidt nodded.  The Cacas would open fire with their beam weapons at about eighteen million kilometers, while the plasma torpedoes couldn’t strike until their targets were within six hundred thousand kilometers.  And with the weight of energy that would be coming in, he doubted they would have a ship to house the torpedo launchers by the time the enemy was within range.

“I want every beam weapon we have concentrated on one of their superbattleships as soon as we’re within firing range,” he told the Tactical Officer.  He figured he’d get at least one more strike in for his people before he was completely rolled over.

*     *     *

“Come on,” whispered Fleet Admiral Jerry Kelvin as he looked at the pair of holos hanging in the air before his chair.  One showed the New Moscow system, and the forces arrayed in the space around that star.  His own immediate force, the one under his direct control, was the second smallest on the plot.  Most of his force had not survived the series of battles he had put them through.  His own flagship, the super heavy battleship Constance the Great, had been battered, but survived.  That was due to it being the largest, most heavily protected class of ship in the system.  The same could not be said for the great majority of the other ships in his command, and even one of Constance’s sisters had been destroyed in the running battle.

Jerry felt the crushing burden of guilt from those losses, from ordering other ships into situations where they couldn’t possibly survive, while not putting his life at the same level of risk.  Part of his job was keeping himself and his command staff alive, so they could command.  That wasn’t the primary consideration, but it was a consideration.

Kelvin dismissed that thought as he looked at the second holo, the one that showed space out to one light year from the primary.  And the swarm of ships that were on approach.  They would have gotten to the planet in a day and a half at least time transit, thought the Fleet Admiral, a feeling of accomplishment rising in him.  Not accomplishment for himself, but for the men, women and aliens under his command.  They had stretched that day and a half, doubled it, by making the enemy cautious, always on the lookout for some trap, even when there wasn’t one.  And now that enemy was going to pay or his caution.

They still might hit the planet, though, not to mention those New Muscovite ships in orbit.  And then we’ll have fought and died for nothing.

*     *     *

High Admiral Leshilan’tra Marsharaten stared at the planet on the holo with hate.  He knew he wasn’t supposed to lay waste to the entire planet, only kill the humans infesting the surface, something his people had been trying to accomplish.  Unfortunately, he would not be harvesting them, and their protein would be wasted.

“Three hours to orbital insertion,” called out  the Navigation Officer.

And nothing to stop us, thought the High Admiral, who had the command of the fleet shoved into his own four hands when the flagship was converted to vapor.  The second in command was also killed when his ship intercepted another of the unseen missiles that had come in at an impossible velocity.  And the fleet, a larger command than he was really prepared to handle, became his.

The plot showed the enemy force that was still in the system, mostly concentrated in three large and one small concentration.  There were about a thousand ships total, while he still had twenty-four hundred vessels after the three day running battle and exchange of missiles at long range.  The enemy had sent swarms from different directions, and then had come the impossible small attack craft that had come out of nowhere, much like the missiles.  They had not only swept in and hit from out of nowhere, but they had disappeared into nowhere as soon as they passed.  And they had come back, again and again, though only the first attack had really hurt him.  What they had done was make him more cautious, not sure what was going to appear next and cause him more worries.

There were only a score or so of ships in orbit, and they were not going anywhere, which made him have to ask why?  He couldn’t imagine that they thought they could stop him, or even slow him down.

“Can we sweep those ships out of the way?” he asked his Tactical Officer.

“With missiles?  They haven’t fired at us with missiles for the last hour, and I’m thinking they are out.  It might be better to just come in close and hit them with beam weapons.”

“I agree.  We’ll…”

“We’re picking up ships in hyper, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer.  “Resonances match human vessels.”

“How many?”

“Over a thousand, my Lord.  More.  More appearing.”

“Do you have a plot of them?” asked the High Admiral.

A moment later the plot appeared, showing the enemy force as a mass of vector arrows coasting at point three light as they approached the hyper V barrier.  There were at least a thousand ships, and the counter went up every second, until it hit two thousand, still rising with no end in sight.

“Find us a way out of here,” yelled the High Admiral, almost panicking.   There were now three thousand ships on that plot, and it didn’t look like they had gotten to the end of the enemy fleet.  Translation emissions had started coming in from the front of that force as they moved from  down to IV.

“We should be able to handle that force as well, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer.  “We still outmass them, and we have the better ships.”

The High Admiral thought about that for a moment.  After seeing both the missiles that appeared out of nowhere and the attack fighters than appeared and disappeared, he wasn’t so sure about that last point.

“You heard my orders,” said the High Admiral.  “The fleet is to change its vector until we are on a heading out of the system, away from that other force.  We will fight our way out, so that we can bring this news back to sector headquarters.”

“And the ships in orbit,” said the Tactical Officer, his eyes on the floor so that his look wouldn’t offend his superior any more than his tone was sure to.  “Perhaps we can send some missiles in to take them out.”

“We’ll need them to get out of here,” said the High Admiral, giving a head motion of negation.  “Just get us out of here, now.”

The bridge officers all acknowledged, and the orders were sent out to the fleet, which immediately went to five hundred gravities acceleration at an angle that would curve them away from the planet and eventually onto a course that would take them out of the system, away from the new force moving in.  The enemy ships kept coming, until there were over four thousand of them. His force still outmassed them, barely, but he didn’t have the confidence to beat them.

*     *     *

“The enemy is changing their vector, Vladimir,” said Commodore Sheila Stepanowski over the com.

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Captain Vladimir Schmidt, looking at the plot that was showing the main New Terran Empire battle fleet coming in, close to the same image he was sure the Cacas were seeing on their own holos.  But they weren’t seeing everything, and in about two hours the next part of the surprise would appear.

“Any missile trace?” asked Schmidt of his own Tactical Officer.  That was the only danger now, that the Cacas would send a wave of missiles their way.  It really wouldn’t take much of a wave to take them out, and kill everything on the surface of the planet.

“None, sir,” replied the officer, a worried expression on his face.

The Captain knew that the enemy could always send missiles their way at any time.  It seemed that the Commodore had known what she was talking about when she said they wouldn’t waste the weapons on them.

“We’ve won, Vladimir,” said the Commodore on the com.  “Our kingdom is saved.”

Schmidt wasn’t sure about that.  But the future was looking much better at this point.

*     *      *

Grand Fleet Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski checked the central holo plot as his flagship, the superbattleship Anastasia Romanov, translated back into normal space.  The translation nausea hit him like a fist to the stomach, and he barely controlled his gut, preventing the vomit from rising up his esophagus.  He was normally an easy translator, and the series of hammer blows that had hit him this time in, as the twenty million ton warship had negotiated each level of hyper, had come as a surprise.  Must have been the stress of the radiation on my body, he thought, glancing around and seeing even the younger people having a hard time handling the dimensional jump.

As far as medical could tell, they were all doing well from the repair of their cellular structure, but it might be weeks before they actually felt up to par.  What was important now was they had made it to the system, in working ships, before the planet could be attacked.

“All targets locked on,” called out the Fleet Tactical Officer in a croaking voice.

“All ships may open fire when ready,” ordered Len, trying to keep his voice steady.  “Four volleys.”

The ship bucked slightly as its acceleration tubes shot the missiles out of the vessel.  The green vector arrows of thousands of missiles appeared, the number ever increasing as the two thousand capital ships and heavy cruisers in the force fired, until over a hundred and fifty thousand weapons were in space, accelerating toward the enemy force, or to where the enemy force would be by the time they got there.  It was an overwhelming swarm, but not one he expected would wipe out the fleet.  If he took out half of it, he would be happy, as long as the other ships also sustained some damage.

The enemy ships had a one and three quarter light hour trip to the barrier, which they would reach, including the time it took them to change their vectors and head outward, in a day and a half.  The missiles had over three light hours to get to intercept range, which they would achieve in a little over twelve hours.  There was no way the enemy force could escape the missile swarm.  They would be forced to fight it, and they would be hurt badly doing so.

“The support ships and their escorts will boost on a least time profile to the planet,” he ordered his Com Officer.  “Battle force is to go into a pursuit profile of the enemy force.  Let’s see if we can keep them going the way we want them to go.”

*     *     *

“Felicia has found some, Captain,” said Staff Sergeant Mika Jefferson, his eyes closed as he linked with his superjaguar.  “She counts twelve of the creatures.”

“Where are the other jags?” asked Walborski, waving for the rest of his team to gather round.

“Drago is also on site, keeping watch on the Cacas,” said the Handler.  “Caesar is sweeping the area, looking for other Cacas.”

“We’re moving out,” Cornelius told the fourteen Rangers on is hunting team.  “Sergeant Jefferson.  If you would lead the way.”

The Handler nodded and moved out of the clearing they had all gathered in, into the thick jungle.  One of the superjaguars, Monica, was waiting for them, its super heightened senses making sure that nothing in this jungle full of predators was sneaking into an ambush.  Cornelius caught the merest glimpse of the fast moving creature as its coat blended in perfectly with the shadowed jungle, making it all but invisible.

It took an hour for the Rangers to cover the distance, moving like shadows themselves, their ghillie suits blending them in with the jungle, if not as well as the cats, then well enough.  Jefferies linked his take from his cat into the com link of the Captain, letting him take a look at the Cacas they were observing.

The colors were a little strange, but not what he would have expected from the eyes of a cat.  It took him a second to realize that the colors were a mix of the visual spectrum and infrared, that the cat not only had the most perfect light gathering night vision that man could formulate, but also heat sensing sight.  He saw the twelve Cacas gathered in a small clearing.  They were definitely a mixed bag.  There were two in heavy battle armor, four in some kind of light armor, and six who were in the light uniforms they tended to wear when not at battle stations or when they were in garrison on a planet.   Walborski thought they must have been Caca soldiers who had discarded their armor.  That was not surprising.  What was surprising was that any were still in armor, a week after they had been defeated on the ground.  There must not have been a lot of power left in those suits.

Walborski sent the image of what he had seen through his com to his men.  “Take out the ones I’ve marked with fire.  I want these two alive.  Or, maybe I should say, General Baggett wants prisoners.  I‘d prefer for them all to become food for whatever comes along after they start rotting.”

He received the acknowledgements from his men, and the team moved in, taking great care to move as silently as possible.  The breeze rustling through the leaves made more noise than his team combined.  They moved into position and got their targets in sight.

A warbling call through the forest sounded, carrying.  All of the Cacas looked up with a start.  For ten of them that was the last move they would ever make in life.  Rifles phutted through silencers, putting one killing round into four of the unarmored Cacas, the ones with armor receiving multiple shape charge penetrators that killed them instantly.

The two who were not shot had varied reactions.  One froze in place, while the other jumped to his feet and ran into the jungle.  The one that froze was swarmed over by a quartet of Rangers, while the other took off as fast as he could run.  Right into his worst nightmare.

“Stop,” yelled Cornelius in Ca’cadasan, one of the hundred or so words he had picked up.  He held his rifle pointed down, trying to resist the temptation of shooting the creature.   The Caca must have thought he could overpower the human, and he swatted at the rifle with two left hands while his lower right member pulled a monomolecular knife from a sheath.

Cornelius moved his rifle out of the way, tossing it aside and going into overdrive.  He blocked the knife hand with his left, then sent a right cross into the lower shoulder of the Caca, rocking him on his feet.  He got in two more punches, these to the ribs, before the Caca could react and try to bring the blade back in.  Again he blocked that hand, this time with both of his, and grabbed onto the forearm.  The Caca hit Walborski in the head with his right upper hand, then opened his mouth in a shriek as the Ranger twisted the lower arm, pulled it down hard, and snapped it over his rising knee.

Walborski stepped back, his eyes continually on the Caca, who had dropped his knife and was cradling his right lower arm with his left.  He wanted to finish this fast.  The creature had triple his weight, and was three times stronger than a normal human.  It had the advantage of four upper limbs plus the legs.  Or it did, until Cornelius had broken the elbow joint of one of those arms.  It didn’t have Cornelius’ speed, and he was much faster.   He had also been studying Kenpo Karate as his chosen martial art, and one of the Grand Masters of the form had been adapting it for combat against aliens, including Cacas.  Part of his training had included Ca’cadasan anatomy, so he would know where to rain his blows.

The Caca growled and stepped forward, bringing both upper arms down in strikes to his head.  Cornelius leaned back out of the way while his right foot came up and chambered, then snapped out in an abdominal level side kick.  His foot came back to chamber, and he stepped down and in, his hands snapping into a combination; solar plexus, two to the ribs, one to the sternum, then back to the ribs and following with the solar plexus again; six blows in a little over a second, blurring with speed and rocking the Caca with power.  The creature grunted in pain, its eyes closing for a moment, giving Cornelius the opening he needed for a jump round kick to the head.

The Caca staggered back, shaking his head, then roaring in anger.  Cornelius was sure he could kill this creature with his hands, but that was not the mission.  He set his feet, throwing another side kick into the solar plexus, placing his foot and turning into one of the most powerful kicks in his repertoire, the back spinning side kick.  His foot lifted the creature off the ground, and he continued the turn to take a step forward.

Two other Rangers came from behind and jumped on the Caca, overpowering the injured, hacking creature.  Walborski was almost disappointed that this opponent had been taken out by his men, but he nodded and smiled to them.

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” he told the Caca in its own language.  “For now.”

*     *     *

The High Admiral sat in his command chair on his bridge almost in shock.  He still had a powerful force around him.  Only a third of what it had been when he had been on approach of the planet, only twenty-nine hours before.  In eight hours they would be crossing the hyper barrier, and were in the process of decelerating so they would be at the proper velocity for translation when they crossed that line.

Of his eight hundred and twenty-seven remaining ships, almost all of them had some damage.  Another eighty-five ships were flying ahead, damage to their grabbers not allowing them to decelerate at the same rate as the rest of the force.  Hopefully they would eventually be able to make the jump, but the High Admiral didn’t have the energy to worry about them.  His one concern was to get what he had around him into hyper and away from here.

No more missiles, he thought, staring at the force that was still chasing him, the human fleet that had battered his own fleet with long range fire.  He had returned what he had, under the principle of use them or lose them.  He was glad he had, since those fifteen hundred ships that had been blasted out of space would have taken all their missile loads along with them.  Instead, they had fired them in the face of the chasing fleet, and had resulted in the destruction of a few hundred of the enemy ships.  Not enough, not near enough.

He was surprised that the humans hadn’t sent further missile waves at him.  It was a fresh force, and must have had many more missiles in their magazines.  Instead, they were following on a profile that would not close the range in time to stop them from translating into hyper and getting away.

“We have hyper emissions straight ahead,” called out the Sensor Officer.  “Two thousand objects, on a heading straight for us.”

“Can we avoid them?” he asked his Navigation Officer.

“We can curve our vector, but it will not take us out of their missile range when they enter normal space,” said the officer.

“We can’t win a battle,” said the Tactical Officer.  “If we’re going to do something, we must do it quickly, my Lord.”

“Set us on the new vector,” he told the Navigation Officer, who went to immediate work to plot the most efficient boost to keep the range open as much as possible.  The High Admiral could see from the shoulder slump of the officer that he was disheartened.  He was feeling the same.

Minutes later came yet another shock.  “We are receiving a com from the commander of the enemy force behind.”

“Put it on my personal com screen,” ordered the High Admiral, realizing that this message had been sent over an hour ago, and meant that the commander of the human fleet knew what would be waiting ahead of the Ca’cadasan force.

“To the commander of the Ca’cadasan force,” came the voice of the human over the com, as the image of an older male human in an ornate uniform appeared on the holo.  “You are ordered to surrender your force or be destroyed.  As soon as those ships ahead of you enter normal space, they will fire on you.  If you wish to surrender, you need to send a message now that will be received by that force.  Once the missiles are launched they will not be aborted.  So choose now.  Life, or death.”

“We will not surrender,” hissed the High Admiral to the image of the human admiral.  The last Ca’cadasan who had surrendered to the humans had paid the price.  Or his family had, since he was not in reach of the Empire for punishment.  The High Admiral would not allow his siblings and sons to pay the price for his cowardice, despite the fear he was now feeling.

“We have translations ahead,” called out the Sensor Officer.  A moment later the officer turned around at his station, an expression of complete terror on his face.  “We have missile launch.”

The High Admiral was about to ask how many, when he looked at the plot and saw that how many was too many.  Thousands of vector arrows appeared on that plot.  Many thousands, more than they could weather.

“My, Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer.  “Orders?”

“We continue on our vector change,” said the High Admiral through clenched teeth.  “Prepare all fleet defenses.  We will weather the storm until we can jump from this system.”

The High Admiral stared straight ahead after he spoke, refusing to engage with the rest of his crew.  The males had no choice but to follow their last orders, and the fleet boosted along on their path, trying desperately to get away from something they couldn’t possibly escape.

Chapter Eight

When under attack, no country is obligated to collect permission slips from allies to strike back.

Charles Krauthammer

THE DONUT:  APRIL 16TH, 1002.

“And there you have it,” said Dr. Kenji Guatarrez, smiling at the other scientists gathered in the lecture hall.  There were over fifty people in the room, all Doctoral Level physicists and engineers working on the Donut Project.  “Using this method of resonances with the wormhole creation chamber, at least one end of the wormhole could be created in a different temporal state than the one we have locked into our time.”

Sounds similar to the Other Universe Project, thought Dr. Lucille Yu, the Director of the Donut Project, ex of that Other Universe Project.

“And how do you find the proper resonances to open your hole in the time you want?” asked Dr. Jenifa Gua, one of the theoretical physicists who was working on trying to increase the efficiency of the wormhole generating process.

Dr. Guatarrez did not work on the Donut.  He was a professor at Imperial University in Capitulum.  The only work he had done on wormholes had been theoretical.  The scientist had been out to the Donut on several occasions to observe the process, and take downloads of data back to the University.

“We can describe the resonances with math and theory, but what it really comes down to is trial and error,” said the Scientist.

Lucille shook her head.  That was how they had discovered new Universes in that project that still haunted her nightmares.  Trial and error often turned into trial and terror.

“So I’m assuming that you will have a wormhole into the past,” said Lucille, raising her hand.

“Past, or future,” answered the smiling Scientist.  “Both are possibilities.”

“And what will you do with these wormholes?” asked Yu, narrowing her eyes at the man.

“We will observe the past,” said the excited Scientist.  “Learn what really happened in the past, see the things that are now merely conjecture.”

“And not send anything back, or anyone?”

“Not at first,” said Guatarrez.  “But once we figure out what we can do, why shouldn’t we make things right?”

“What you are talking about is forbidden by decree of the Emperor,” said another of the guests, this one in the uniform of the Fleet, Commodore stars on his shoulder boards.  “Interfering with history is what we think caused the Empire of the Ancients to fall.  And we cannot afford to make the same mistake.”

“I really don’t think there is that much of a risk,” said the Scientist, his expression now anxious.  “Think of what we can learn?”

“And you aren’t going to learn it on my station,” said Yu, standing up and walking from her seat to the aisle, then up to the front of the lecture hall.  “The Emperor, at the advice of the Elysium High Lord, has forbidden any research into time travel.”  She walked in front of the smaller man, towering over him.  “You will never be allowed access to my station to perform your experiments.”

“But..” stammered Guatarrez.  “What we could learn.”

“What we can learn is how far you are along in your research,” said the Commodore, walking up to the Scientist from the other side and crowding him.  A trio of Fleet Security Police came walking up behind the flag officer.  “I am Commodore Collin Walsh, Imperial Fleet Intelligence.  And you, Doctor, are in my custody, until we can find out what you know about time travel.  And what we can do to keep you from messing with the time line of our Universe.”

Yu shivered slightly as the Scientist was led away.  Just as she had been led away at one time to an interrogation by the Fleet, right after the death of Augustine and his family.  That had been a nightmare, and she did not envy the man.  But she also didn’t want the Universe to change to the point where everyone she knew, including herself, no longer existed.

*     *     *

“Dammit,” cursed Sean, as he received the encrypted com from Lucille Yu.  “What in the hell was that idiot thinking?”

“I believed he hoped to go back in time and give Earth the means to stop the Cacas,” said Lucille.  “To engineer a major shift in the timeline.”

“And make trillions of beings that we know of cease to exist,” growled the Emperor.  “I don’t care if other people took our places.  It would destroy everyone and every place I care about.”

“That was what I was thinking, your Majesty.  Fortunately the Commodore was in the audience.  I didn’t even have to think about what to do.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Lucille,” said Sean, watching as the Admiral in charge of this repair center he was touring walked forward, rendering a salute.  “I’ll be back in touch.”  He held up a hand to hold the Rear Admiral from speaking while he contacted his personal intelligence liaison.

“Yes, your Majesty,” said Commodore Mary Innocent over the com.

Innocent had been with him since before the ambush he had had sprung at Congreeve.  He had found her to be intelligent and efficient in gathering and disseminating intelligence, and he always had an internal laugh thinking of her last name, especially in the field she was in.

He filled her in on what he had been discussing with Yu, and what he wanted her to find out.

“I’ll get on it immediately, your Majesty,” said the Commodore, “and see what I can find out.  Though I really don’t see what the man can do without something like the Donut to work with.”

Sean was thinking the same thing.  What did it matter if the man had theories about time travel through the use of a wormhole.  Yu hadn’t thoroughly checked those theories yet to see if they were even viable.  He was sure that if anyone could, she was the person.  But even if the theories were workable, he needed something like the Donut to make them work, and he would not have it.

“Please show me around your facility, Admiral,” he finally told the man, who was in charge of the repair base that would soon be in operation around New Moscow.

“My pleasure, your Majesty,” said the man, waving the way for Sean and his detail to follow.

Sean tried to pay attention to the tour, but other matters were on his mind, especially time travel.  He kept wondering if he really had the right to stop someone from saving Earth.  But, then again, from what he had been told by the Elysium Ambassador in a private meeting, there was no guarantee that changing the past would lead to a positive result.  It might just make everything worse.  The Elysiums had some kind of mystical explanation that purported to show why the Ancients had disappeared at the height of their civilization, and why there were so many small nebulae in the region.  They felt that the actual Universe abhorred a paradox, which was sure to arise if intelligent beings traveled back in time. And abhorring a paradox, the Universe itself would manipulate time and space to prevent it from happening.

He wasn’t sure how much he believed that explanation, but the greatest minds of the last five hundred years couldn’t come up with a theory of how one or less solar mass stars could supernova.  And the Ancients, those who had founded the original Empire in this region, were definitely gone, if not forgotten.

Still, the twenty million ton factory module, just pulled through the wormhole the day before by powerful tugs, was worthy of attention.  Its nanotech fabrication chambers were already turning out the structures that would help to heal the damaged vessels in the system, getting them to as close to fully functional as possible without a return to a rear base.  And they were building the supports and hull plating that would be processed into other orbital installations, in preparation for fortifying this system against future attack.

“We’ll be moving three more factories into the system before the end of the week,” said the Admiral, while the Emperor watched robotic arms lifting two hundred meter long curved support beams out of the a nanoprocessing fabricator.  Inside, the nanites started to work on the next beam, using the raw materials that were being fed into the factory and assembling the structures molecule by molecule into the perfect alloys for strong support braces that armor would be attached to.

Sean paid close attention to the supervision of the robots  There were several people in Fleet powered armor on the floor, and he knew that the remote surveillance was according to the regs.  Now that they were at war with the Machines once again, people were making sure that the robots and computers they used were constantly under watch.  And to think, just last year I was trying to figure out a way to circumvent the Man in the Loop law.

“Keep the production ramped up, Admiral,” said Sean, patting the man on the back.  “I don’t know when the Cacas will be coming back, but I know they will, and I want this system to become a killing ground for them when they do.”

“We’ll have the fortifications in place, your Majesty,” said the Admiral with a smile.  “As long as we receive the weapons to equip them with.”

Sean nodded, knowing that the orders had already gone in for tens of thousands of mines, each with a heavy yield missile.  As long as the Cacas came in the same old way, he would have the things emplaced to kill them.  What he didn’t know was if they would come in the same old way.  They were learning, after all.

“I have news, your Majesty,” sent Commodore Innocent over the com.  “I can find no record of a Commodore Collin Walsh in Intelligence.”

“So who the hell is he?”

“As far as I can gather, he might be a Commodore Cole Walsh, who is a member of Weapons Development.  But there are so many black ops in that Division, and so many roadblocks to my inquiries, that I really couldn’t tell you.”

Sean thought about that for a moment and didn’t like the sound of it.  What in the hell could someone from Weapons Development want with a scientist who was working on time travel.  Several answers came to mind, and he didn’t like any of them.

“I’ll send this up to Ekaterina,” he told the Intelligence Officer.  “Maybe she and Lord T’lisha can find out.”  And if they can’t, I don’t know who can, he thought.

*     *     *

ELYSIUM EMPIRE CAPITAL  APRIL 16TH, 1002.

“The court finds the defendants, Klausar Mentook, Mirgrad Plooshe and Janarsa Mentook, guilty of treason and mass murder.  All charges have been substantiated, and you will be punished for your crimes.”

The defendants, two males and a female, all Knockerman, stood and glared at the speaker.  They were squat reptilian beings, not graceful like the Crakista, but masses of muscle, among the strongest citizens of the Elysium Empire.  They were also slow, of body and mind.  In contrast, the avian speaking, a Brakakak, was a member of the most graceful species in known space.

The Brakakak Chief Justice sat on a high chair wearing a robe of colorful feathers, the mark of an elder of his people.  To each side sat five more judges in the same type of clothing, with some modifications for the eight who were not of the Brakakak species.  That included five other species, including a Knockerman justice.

“Your plot has caused untold death and suffering in this Empire,” continued the Spokesbeing for the court.  “If the Empire had a death penalty, you would have deservedly earned it.  Unfortunately, we do not.  So by the unanimous vote of this court, you will all receive the maximum sentence we can give to you under the laws of the Empire.  You are hereby sentenced to spend the rest of your lives in absolute solitary confinement, to commence immediately as soon as transport can be arranged after the dismissal of this court.”

There was some murmuring in the court, not that many in the chamber thought the punishment was unwarranted.  But it was rarely dispensed.  Archduke Horatio Alexanderopolis, wished they had a death penalty in the Empire he was the Imperial Ambassador to.  It would make things so much simpler.  They had the death penalty in his Empire.  It was rarely used, but it was there, ready to be pulled out when an extreme example needed to be made.  It wasn’t the sanitary method used in so many so called enlightened societies of the past.  It was dirty, painful, humiliating and public, meant to serve as an abject lesson to others.

The Elysium solitary confinement relied on small automated satellites in orbit around a gas giant in a far distant isolated system.  Each inmate was left on their own satellite, which provided everything they needed to survive; food, life support, sleeping and bathing facilities, even a small gym,  but absolutely no communications with other intelligent beings.  That included nothing to watch, listen to or read.  For as long as they lived.  There were methods aboard that would allow them, with a little thought and effort, to take their own lives.

“I demand my right to make a final statement before the court,” growled Klausar Mentook, the ringleader of the trio who were the surviving members of the Revolutionary Council.  The being’s Brakakak was harsh, but understandable, especially to one who understood it at a native level.  Like the Ambassador.

And they do have a sort of death penalty, thought Horatio as he looked at the broad back of the creature.  Anyone who resists arrest, or battles with the authorities, is subject to it.  That is what happened to the other members of the Council, and it is what would have happened to this trio if a mole in their organization hadn’t set them up for capture.

“Anything you say will not have any bearing upon the sentence that has just been handed down,” said the Chief Justice.  This was the highest court in the Elysium Empire, and there was no appeal to their sentence.  The High Lord Garakakak had decided to prosecute in this venue to start.  That normally would have been a risky tactic, since a non-conviction would have resulted in no appeal by the State for a new trial.  In this case, it had been thought that since the revolutionaries had been caught dead to rights, there was no way the State could lose, and that had been proven true.

“I still wish to make my statement, before I am removed from the Universe of thinking beings,” said the Knockerman.

“Very well,” said the Chief Justice, nodding to a bailiff.  That worthy, a well-built centauroid that reminded the Ambassador of a short snouted, furred Phlistaran, walked over on four long legs, it arms reaching forward to help the Knockerman turn and walk to the front of the courtroom.

“You accuse of us treason,” said Mentook, setting his feet as if he were a warrior waiting to take on a hand to hand attack.  His eyes locked onto Alexanderopolis and narrowed, a hate filled glare that sent a shiver up the Ambassador’s spine.  “I say you are the guilty ones.  Because you traffic with the humans, the monsters within our midst.”  A thick finger speared out at the Ambassador.  “Creatures like that one, who bring the doom of the Ancients back to this space.”

Murmuring arose in the courtroom.  Everyone here knew the legend of the Ancients who had bootstrapped so many of the local species into space, then disappeared almost overnight.  Many stars had gone up in supernova at that time, major systems of the ancients.  More than statistically possible, and many of the stars not massive enough to explode.  One of those systems had contained the Knockerman homeworld.  A large number of that people had been offworld as laborers at the time, and so the species survived, but they still felt the anger, the rage, at losing the world they had evolved upon.

“The humans are working with wormholes, the very thing that the ancients were using in unnatural ways before their destruction,” continued the Knockerman.  “They built their station around a black hole, the same as the ancients did.  They put all of us at risk of destruction through the use of this technology.”  Mentook turned, then pointed again, this time at the High Lord.  “And the Lord Garakakak is just as guilty as they are, allowing human built wormhole gates into our Empire.  When the Universe responds to the abomination, we will be caught in the collateral damage.  And this we could not allow.  So we did our duty, and helped the large aliens in their plan to destroy the station, after failing to topple the government of the real traitor.”

“I think we have heard enough,” said Garakakak, getting to his feet.  “What this being says is lies and half-truths.  The humans use their wormholes in their war against invaders who would see them destroyed, and the rest of the intelligent species of this sector enslaved.  They do not use the wormholes to experiment with altering the timeline.  The Ancients did so, in the mistaken belief that they could alleviate suffering by changing the decision points that had led to so many tragedies in the past.  I have the assurance from the human Emperor, Sean, that they will never experiment with such.”

“And when they find themselves losing to the Ca’cadasans,” hissed Mentook, his angry eyes bouncing back and forth between the Brakakak leader and the human Ambassador.  “When they are in a position where it is either the death of their species, or tampering with the timeline, what do you think they will do?”

Horatio could feel all of the eyes on him now, questioning, accusing.  I and my people are not on trial here, thought the Ambassador, thinking about how he was going to get out of the building without the mics and cameras of Elysium News Service reporters in his face.

“You have made your statement,” said the Chief Justice, motioning to the bailiffs.  “Take them away to their punishment.”

“I would like to speak with you, Horatio,” said Garakakak to the Ambassador after the convicted had been led out.  “If you will please meet me at your office after we leave here.”

“Of course, High Lord,” agreed Horatio. Moments later he was heading up to the rooftop garage where his official vehicle and escorts waited.  He avoided most of the reporters, though some had the forethought to get in his way.  His security detail tried to keep them away, but a few got close enough to yell questions through translators.

He looked out over the city as his aircar flew to the new embassy.  There was still some damage to the city, thought it was a far cry from the devastation that had followed the uprising.  Most of the larger structures had been repaired, and some new megascrapers were going up in areas that had been leveled. In the distance the dome of the new High Council building shone in the sun, a sign that the government of this Empire was up and running again on this world.

An hour later the Ambassador was ensconced in his new comfortable office as the leader of the Elysium Empire was led into the room.  Normally, protocol would call for him attending to the leader at the High Lord’s office.  But this way they could be assured that the Elysium Intelligence Service would not be listening in.  Or so it was hoped.

The thin alien leaned back in the comfortable chair that had been made for his kind, a tumbler of fine bourbon on the rocks in one four digit hand.  The High Lord took a sip of his drink and sighed in pleasure.  Humans and Brakakak shared an almost identical biochemistry, and the food of drinks of both were enjoyed equally by the other.

“I am hearing some rumblings from the Council about our losses in your war,” said the High Lord, getting to the point.

“It’s your war too, High Lord,” said Horatio, setting his half empty glass on the side table beside the chair he was in, facing the Brakakak.  “Or have they forgotten that the Cacas helped the Knockermen destroy your primary space dock above this world.”

“And some would say that if we had not allowed you to put your gate in that station, the creatures would have had no reason to strike at it.”  The High Lord took another sip, then set his glass down.  “As far as I’m concerned, that is neither here nor there.”  The High Lord let out a squawking laugh.  “The idioms of your people are so fascinating.  And you have so many of them.”

“They’ve been complaining about being involved with us since the day you committed to the alliance, High Lord,” said the Ambassador.  “And you have honored the commitment, which we appreciate.  So what is the complaint this time?”

“We have lost over eight hundred ships, and two and a half million Spacers and Marines in the war,” said the High Lord, closing his eyes and rubbing the feathery fur on his domed forehead.  “I know you have lost many times that, and the reptiles probably as much as we have.  I also happen to know that the Crakista are committed to the alliance, no matter their losses.  As are the Margravi and Klashakians.”

“And the Elysium?  The Brakakak?”

“I intend to honor our commitments, as long as I am in power.  I refuse to allow us to become the oath breaker of the alliance, remembered for all time for turning our backs on the greatest threat to the sector in its history.  And I fear what these Ca’cadasans will bring to us if they are triumphant.  A thousand years of slavery?  Ten thousand?  A hundred?  That I cannot allow.”

“And if you lose your position?”

“I do not believe I am in danger of that, at the moment.  It may happen, if my own clique loses faith in my leadership.”

“And what can we do to keep the faith of your clique?”

“You can minimize our losses,” said the Avian, raising a hand when Horatio started to speak up.  “I know.  This is war, and you much take what you have to plug the holes in your strategy.  If that means taking an Elysium force and plugging into a hole that threatens to become a flood, then that is what you must do.  All I ask is that your military leaders are aware of the political ramifications of losses of my people.”

“And if you back out, and the Cacas overrun us, then come for you?”

“Then I will mourn for my people and our freedom, while repeating another phrase I have learned from your people.  I told you so.”

*     *     *

“We have some anxiety concerning your people’s use of their wormholes,” said Klorasof, waving four of his six tentacles in the air.  It seemed to float across the floor on its locomotion organs, the cilia on its ventral surface sliding it along the hard surface without any wasted motion.

“We are using them to give us an advantage over an enemy that has every other advantage,” said Xavier Jackson.  Jackson had been with the beings his people knew as the Ancients for over a year.  He really wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, since the aliens didn’t seem to care about the passage of time as much as the humans did.

“And we have no problem with your people using them for spatial transport” said the alien, his eyes blinking his tension.  “But there are hints of some of your scientists working with theories of temporal displacement.”

“Time travel?” asked Jackson in a disbelieving voice.  The Ancients had told him about how their Empire had fallen, about how they had experimented with time travel and the Universe had struck back, intent on stopping the chain of paradoxes they were generating.  He still wasn’t sure he believed it, since it smacked too much of the religion and spirituality he really didn’t believe in.

“It is truth.  We attempted to undo the mistakes of the past, and that was the worst error we could have made.  Overnight our civilization was gone as if it had never existed.”

“And we will not make the same mistake,” argued Jackson, in the back of his mind sure that someone in the Empire, some human, would make that same mistake.  Probably out of altruism, though greed or revenge were also possibilities.

“When your people’s backs are against the wall, and it seems the only way out, they will do whatever they can to survive,” said Klorasof, an expression Jackson had come to recognize as pain in the being’s eyes.  “And we will do whatever we can to prevent that from happening.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Jackson, a shiver of warning rolling down his spine.

“We are not long for this Universe,” said the Alien.  “We are a long lived race.  Our life spans are greater than those of they that you fight.  We were also slow to reproduce, only budding rarely.  Now we bud not at all.  Whatever power there is in the Universe that snuffed out our worlds also took away our power to reproduce.  Our best scientists, those who survived, have been unable to do anything about it.  But before we go into the long night, we will make one last gesture to let those who come after us know that we existed.  We will choose a cause, and fight for it.”

“Why not choose us?” asked Jackson, looking into the disconcerting eyes of the Ancient.  “You still say that the Ca’cadasans are most likely to win this fight, but with your help we might be able to turn the tide”

“But they may not be the threat we need to destroy,” said Klorasof, waving some tentacles in the air in what Jackson recognized as exasperation.  “I have come to know your people through you, Xavier Jackson.  If the choice was mine, I would side against the Ca’cadasans with you.  But the Elders are not sure they are the greatest threat.  Yours is the species we may need to stop.”

The alien pivoted on his locomotion cilia, looking as if he were standing on a turntable on the floor, then slid away.  Jackson stared at the creature that until this moment he had thought of as a friend, wondering what he could do to stop him and his people, and coming up with nothing.  Except continuing to play the good ambassador, and hoping he could change their minds.

*     *     *

“Dagni,” said Lt. General Samuel Baggett with a wide smile on his face, accepting the salute of the gorgeous blond woman in front of him.  “Or should I say, Brigadier Thorwaldsdottir?”

“Dagni will be fine, sir,” said the woman, who had been Baggett’s assistant commander on the invasion of the Fenri fleet base their then brigade had been involved in.  She had lost her right leg in the battle for that planet, and had been out the loop while it was regrown and she learned to use it again.

“It is so good to see you,” said Baggett, offering his hand and taking it in a strong grip.  He looked into the deep blue eyes, feeling the mutual attraction between them once again.  Before, she was my subordinate, he thought.  In the same chain of command.  This time she’s Arbuckle’s Chief of Staff.  So the possibility was there.  But Baggett had not been involved with a woman since his divorce, and still felt a little gun shy.  And he wondered what someone like Dagni would see in him.

“Are you ready for the one imperial tour?” she asked, flashing him another smile.

“Lead on,” said Baggett, glad that she had brought their interaction back to business.

The woman led him to a lift, which they rode down to several kilometers beneath the mountain this facility was housed under.  Baggett wasn’t sure what to say while alone with Dagni in the lift, and he felt uncomfortable in the silence, until she brought them back to business again.

“This facility was actually the continental headquarters of the New Moscow Army,” said Thorwaldsdottir as the lift fell swiftly to the bottom.  “Fortunately, it has survived two different invasions.  First, the Cacas took the planet and did not destroy it.  Then, it survived our invasion.”

“So we get to use it,” said Baggett, nodding.  And hopefully when the Cacas come back, it will survive them a second time.

The lift doors opened, revealing a long corridor with a pair of battle-suited sentries standing guard.  There were branching corridors leading into this one, and soldiers in work uniforms moved with purpose through the complex.

“We’re making this our continental headquarters,” said Dagni, leading the way down the long hallway.  “Communications, intelligence, logistics.  We are also keeping the high ranking prisoners twenty levels down in the secure detention facility.”

“I take it we’re going to fortify the planet as well as the orbitals?”

“Oh, yeah.  I guess you’ve already noticed that replacements are coming through for your corps.  The plan is to get your replacements integrated here, while you defend your objectives.”

Baggett nodded, thinking about the losses he had incurred taking this world and protecting the civilian prisoners.  Overall his corps had sustained about twenty-two percent casualties, killed and injured severely enough to be withdrawn from the Theater.  The numbers had been much greater among the actual combat troops, more like thirty-six percent, over a third of the people he had brought to this world.

“So we’re going to be reduced to a defensive role from here on out?”

“Not at all, Samuel,” said Lucius Arbuckle, stepping out of a side corridor and stopping in front of the pair.

Baggett rendered a salute, which Arbuckle returned in his hasty fashion.  “Our army is to be reinforced while we stage here.  Your corps will receive another heavy division, while an additional corps is added to my army.”

“Sixteen divisions?” asked Baggett.  “That’s a mighty hefty army.”

“One of three that will be assembled here for operations further on,” said Arbuckle with a smile.  “More about that later.  The High Command doesn’t even have any idea how we’re going to be used.  Only that we will be on the spear of any invasions from this point.”

“Don’t you think they’re getting a little ahead of themselves, sir?” asked Baggett, thinking of all the things that would have to happen before they went on the offensive against the Ca’cadasan Empire.  He was sure they would be back, in force, and they would have to defeat another invasion or three before they could even think about striking into the Cacas’ home space.

“I agree,” said Arbuckle as he led them further down the hallway, then took a turn at the next to last corridor.  “But one thing you learn.  No matter how much rank you gain, until you get to the top, you still have to take orders from people who don’t know any more than you do.  I think even when you get to the top you still have to do so, since the guy at the top is not really one of us.”

I think Sean is more one of us than you believe, thought Baggett as the General led him through a series of doors, guarded by soldiers in battle armor, and into a small conference room.

“And this is what I asked you down here so see,” said Arbuckle, as Baggett took in the image of a half dozen strange looking aliens sitting in the chairs much as humans would.  Their snouted faces turned his way, intelligent eyes regarded him, and a couple continued to drink from the cups they held in very dexterous looking hands.

Different races? he wondered as he took in the different shades of fur that covered the creatures.  One was solid black, three were different shades of striped gray, while one had a striped orange fur much like a tiger, while yet another was dirty white with dark spots.

“These are our new allies against the Cacas,” said Arbuckle, pointing at the pure black one.  “Their leader is called.  Well, I can’t pronounce what he’s called in his native language, but…”

“You can call me Nightshadow,” said the creature in sibilant speech.  The English was a little slurred, but understandable.  “I am the only one in my party that speaks your language, though the others will be learning as fast as they can.”

“And you are?”

“They call themselves Maurids,” said Arbuckle, gesturing the other flag officers to chairs.

Baggett took his while he continued to study the creatures, noting the retractable claws on the hands, the sharp teeth.  The way they moved, all lean, wiry muscles sliding beneath their fur.  He knew this was a deadly species.  He was sure he could take one in his battle armor, but in hand to hand?  Not a chance.  Maybe one of the augmented could, but not a regular grunt.

“Tell them your story,” said Arbuckle to Nightshadow.

“My people were once a prosperous prespace species,” said the creature in his sibilant speech.  “We were a violent, warlike species, but all of our wars were limited conflicts, the warriors of each kingdom against those of their foe.  But unlike most other species, as we learned later, we did not suffer from the tendency to wipe out the communities of our people, and so were progressing along to the point where we were ready to send members of our kind into space.  And then space came to us.”

“The Cacas?”

“Yes.  The Ca’cadasans, or what you call Cacas.  They came to our world and gave us the ultimatum to submit, or to be conquered.  We, of course, were not the kind of beings to submit to anything not of our own.  So we fought back, were defeated, and began a millennia and a half of slavery.”

“But you seem to have thrived under their overlordship,” said Dagni.  “After all, you were their trusted servants on this planet.  And on Azure.”

“We have certain skills that the, Cacas, found useful.  We are better trackers than just about any other species, better fighters, and we are not stupid.  We saw a way to alleviate the worst of the alien occupation.  Still, we hated them.  And we have waited over fifteen hundred of your years to strike back at them, and remove our people from their control.”

“We can’t guarantee we’re going to beat them,” said Baggett, looking up at his commander to see if he had gone too far.  Arbuckle nodded for him to continue.  “We hope we can beat them.  If we don’t, they will end us.  Are you sure you picked the right people to hang your hopes on?”

“You are the best chance we have seen since becoming slaves,” said Nightshadow, giving a very human head nod.  “If we don’t take this chance, we may not get another, and the Cacas may end up as the rulers of the Galaxy.”

“Fair enough.  But aren’t you afraid that the Cacas will find out about your defection and take it out on your people?”

“We must play the part of, how do you say, double agents, until our world is free,” said Nightshadow, his lips forming in a grimace.  “The Cacas must not know that we are aiding you.  We must play the game, pretending to still be on their side, while secretly helping you.”

“The Maurids already have agents in the Empire, and they are feeding us information,” said Arbuckle.  “This information is classified top secret cosmic,” he warned the other officers.  “You are to talk with no one about it who is not on the need to know list.”

Baggett nodded, then looked back at the Maurid.  “So you, or one of your people, may contact me in the future with information about the enemy?”

“That is correct.  We need humans we can trust to be available to take our information.  And it only makes sense to have that include those with enough rank to cover for us.”

“And if it gets out to the Cacas that you are helping us, despite all the efforts we make to keep it secret?” asked Dagni.

“That is a risk we must take.  We do not think they will destroy us, though their trust may be eroded quite severely.  But we feel like we have no choice.”

Chapter Nine

Enemies make you stronger, allies make you weaker.

Frank Herbert.

CA’CADASAN SPACE MAY 10TH, 1002.

Great Admiral the Superior Lord Jarrashinata Karzott settled back in his chair on the bridge of his new flagship, The Fourth Emperor Hrrassaratat.  Unlike the humans and most other powers, the Ca’cadasans made their flag officers pull double duty, also serving as the captain of the ship.  He looked over his bridge crew, the pick of his fleet.  They might not have formed an effective team at this point, but with the smartest males he could gather, he was sure he could whip them into that team.  He had a reputation as a leader, one of the reasons he had risen to his present rank.  That, and his civil rank as a scion of one of the most aristocratic families in the Empire.

“We have another task force on the plot, my Lord,” said his Tactical Officer, looking over from his station.  “Eight capital ships and twelve escorts.”

The Great Admiral growled low in his throat.  He wanted to be off on this expedition, especially now that he knew what they faced.  But he had at least another week before all of the ships he had ordered here arrived.  Already he had a fleet of over fifteen thousand ships, and it was in the back of his mind that he could probably do the job with what he had.  In the forefront of his thinking was that the previous commanders of this front had, in their arrogance, challenged the foe with insufficient resources.  That was not a mistake he was willing to make, and he would wait for the last ten thousand vessels.

With a thought he changed the central holo from its view of the system they were in to the target.  Gone was the G class star and the tens of thousands of objects in its space.  Now the star in the center of the holo was a red dwarf, the most common star in the Galaxy, and the least likely to harbor a habitable world.  Not likely, but also not impossible.  Here was a brown dwarf, more of a super gas giant than anything, in close orbit around the star, and a large superearth moon in orbit around it.

The distance from the planet-moon system to the star was a little over twenty-nine million kilometers.  The local day was about ninety-one hours, with a two point six million kilometer orbit.  The local year was point one five standard, or about fifteen of its days, while the planet received about point nine six luminosity from the primary, and another point zero five from the brown dwarf, at least on the hemisphere that was tidally locked to the larger body.

The planet itself was a blue white gem, like most habitable worlds.  There was massive orbital infrastructure; space docks, factories, habitats, and many ships.  The LaGrange points of the brown dwarf were filled with antimatter production satellites, while the four massive asteroid belts were heavily mined.  It was a perfect industrial setup, and one that no one in their right mind would suspect from such a system.

The Pod Leader of the ships that had discovered the system, tracking the interstellar traffic coming to and fro, then sneaking in during the infrequent lulls to translate out of hyper six light months out, had gathered a wealth of information.  The male had deserved recognition and elevation for his efforts, but he would get neither, since he had not made it back.  He had gotten away clean, then had been tracked a hundred light years out.  His ship had not made it.  Only two of the eight ship pod had.  They had brought back the information, and they had done so in a manner which gave no indication that they had ever visited the Klavarta home system.

No, not Klavarta, he thought as he switched the image on the holo.  The face on the holo was not one of what they knew of as the Klavarta.  It was taken from a brief transmission within the system, one the inhabitants, the rulers, must have been sure would not be intercepted.  But the image was unmistakable.  He had seen enough of them from messages and news casts from the other front.  Humans, he thought, his face heating with rage at the thought that more of them had gotten away from his people those two thousand years before, and had been waging war, unknown, against his Empire for the last quarter of a century.

And he would be the one to wipe them out, to destroy their capital, and leave their warriors leaderless.  Once that was done, this war would be all but over, and the strength on this front could be shifted to the other, and end those humans as well.

*      *     *

OUTSIDE OF KLAVARTA CAPITAL SPACE  MAY 14TH, 1002.

“Approaching final jump point,” called out the Navigation Officer, Lt. Commander Valerie von Speck.

Commodore Natasha Sung nodded as she watched the plot.  Nina was coasting at point two light, the maximum velocity she was capable of jumping to and from hyper.  Her sisters were to either side, a half light second behind, and would be jumping five seconds after she did.  Many of their escorts had jumped through the layers of hyper well ahead.  Those ships were capable of translating at point four light, even better than the Caca ships that had attacked the Empire.  Then again, everything about those ships had been designed around speed.

“Are all weapons powered down?” she asked Fujardo.

The Tactical Officer turned in his seat, his expression showing his anxiety.  “They’re powered down, ma’am, but I really think we should be ready for anything.”

“And you think our weapons will make a damn bit of difference if these people decide to light us up?” said Lt. Commander Picard, the Com Officer.

“He has a point, Marko,” said the Commodore with a smile she used to hide her own anxiety.  “Besides, we’re here to befriend these people, not start a short and violent war.”   And one this task force, at least, would be doomed to lose.

“I still wonder why they chose a red dwarf star for their home system?” said Commander Laaksonen from the VIP seat down from the Captain’s station.  “I know that Slardra said it was so they would be inconspicuous to the search efforts of the Cacas, but it seems silly to do that, then have enough hyper traffic to lure the legendary monster of hyperspace in for lunch.”

Sung laughed at that last.  There was, of course, no legendary monster of hyperspace, at least according to the scientists.  It was an old superstition to explain why ships just seemed to randomly disappear in hyper, though the Commodore believed that had more to do with human error than mythical creatures.  But the Exec did have a point.  They had been picking up vessels in hyper from thirty light years out, coming and going from this point on a number of vectors.

“Jumping, now,” called out the Helmsman, and the lights dimmed for just a moment while the nausea struck.

Natasha had always wondered about that phenomenon, which had nothing to do with the ship losing power due to it being focused on the hyperdrive generators.  Instead, it was because electrons were slowed during the process of jumping dimensions, and anything electronic lost some of its feed for that instant.

As they entered normal space the bright pinpoint of the red dwarf star appeared in the viewer.  All stars were bright at close range, even the relatively weak reds.  They were still stars, and the hyper barrier was only a light hour out from the primary.  In moments the tactical holo was filling with data, real time plots of vessels under grabber power.  Visually enhanced returns of other objects, planets, moons, asteroids, space based industry, at least where they had been when the light had left them.  It looked like a very rich industrial system, such as would be found around a G or F class star.

They certainly have enough satellites in orbit around their star, thought the Commodore.  Of course they were antimatter production facilities, and were in much closer than such satellites would be placed around a more energetic star.  They were actually in multiple orbits, crowding many more in than even the most massive industrial system of the Empire would.

And three asteroid belts, she thought, looking at the rings of objects in wide orbital swaths, where planets would normally sit.  Makes this an extremely rich system.

There were over a thousand vessels on the plot, most of them small warships like those that had escorted them here.  The exceptions were the large ore haulers going to and from the asteroids, antimatter tankers rising from the solar plants, and huge freighters on their way outsystem with the products of the industrial muscle of the system.

“We’re getting a message from the escort leader, ma’am,” called out the Com Officer.

“Put it on my side holo.”

“Commodore Sung,” said the Klavarta Alpha Commander.  “We have received permission to proceed to the planet on your least time profile.”

Sung looked at her Navigation Officer with the question in her eyes.

“Thirty-three hours at our maximum accel-decel profile,” said the officer.

“Our early arrivals transmitted to our leaders about you when they came into the system, and the leaders are very anxious to meet with their brothers from the stars.”

“As we are to meet them,” said Sung, a smile on her face to cover her own anxiety.  And to find out what they’re really all about.

“Do not deviate from the profile,” said the Klavarta, her tone serious.  “I must apologize, but until we can be sure you are who you say you are, we must be cautious.”

The com went dead, and Sung stared at the space where the holo had been for some moments.  She turned to her Com Officer.  “Make sure all of our information is going out through the wormhole.  And make sure that the commanders of Pinta and Santa Maria are doing the same.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the officer.  A few minutes later he looked up.  “Base wishes to remind you, ma’am, that as soon as we are down below point zero five light we can use the wormhole to evacuate out of here if necessary.”

“Is that what they want us to do?” asked Sung, thinking of how their wormholes gave them an advantage over any other explorer in history.  Even over thirty thousand light years from home, they still had instant contact and the ability, at times, to move physical objects across that distance.  In fact, when they were in orbit around the moon, she had planned to bring through enough materials to upgrade her remaining six destroyer class explorers to hyper VII.

“No, ma’am,” said Picard, looking back at his Commodore after a few minutes of listening to the com.  “They wish to speak to you.  To all of us actually.”

The main viewer’s image of the system ahead faded, to be replaced by the head and upper body of a young man they all knew.

“Your Majesty,” said Sung, stiffening in her chair.

“At ease, Commodore.  I just wanted to have a word with you and your crews.  I’m sure you know we have a lot going on here, but your mission is just as important as ever.  Perhaps more so than ever.  Am sure you know that even though the bastards are gone from our space for now, they will be coming back.  If we can coordinate with these other people, whether they are from one of the long lost Exodus ships or not, we can increase the odds of both of us winning.”

“So you want us to forge an alliance with them?”

“We have some reservations, Commodore, based on the information you have already transmitted to us.  I really want to cement an alliance with this nation, especially if it is true that they have been fighting the Cacas for over two decades.  We need that kind of success, that experience, on our side.  But I must be sure they are someone we can ally with, while avoiding the taint of evil.”

“And we are not to let them know we have any suspicions or reservations,” said Sung, nodding her head.  “While trying to find out every dirty little secret they have.  A tall order, your Majesty.”

“And my order, nonetheless,” said Sean.  “The reason I am telling you this in the open is because it is important for everyone aboard your vessels to understand.  We need these people.  They may be the only thing that stands between us and destruction.  That said, I will not sell the souls of my people to bargain with the devil.  Understood?”

“Indeed, your Majesty,” said Sung, her eyes roaming the bridge for a moment to take in the wide eyes of her crew.  She looked back at the monarch who had chosen her for this command because of the many skills she possessed, wondering if she was skilled enough to actually carry this out.  “We will do our best.”

“I know you will, Commodore.  Just remember, you are not only an exploration squadron commander.  You are the personal representative of myself and the people of the Empire.”

The Commodore grimaced for a moment after the com ended.  She knew very well why she had been chosen for this mission, among the squadron leaders that could have been assigned.  She had a history in Fleet Intelligence prior to switching to Exploration Command, and had been both a field operative and an analyst.  As a field operative she had to make tough decisions, and had taken some actions she was not proud of, necessary as they were.  Exploration Command had given her a chance to do something she was proud of.  She had accepted a reduction in rank to become the tactical officer on a light cruiser, working her way up to battle cruiser commander.  But her past had come back to haunt her, and she was again a spy on an intelligence gathering mission.

“I want to have a staff meeting in the main conference room,” she said aloud, knowing that her command would go out to all of the senior officers and department heads on all three vessels.  The staff of Pinta and Santa Maria would attend through wormhole com, and the Klavarta and their masters would be none the wiser.  She smiled for a moment, wondering how much easier things would have been back when she worked intelligence if they had such secure communications.

“Let me know if anything comes up,” she told her bridge crew as she stood up and walked toward the hatch.  Like they wouldn’t, she thought with a silent laugh as she walked through the open hatch and the door swished shut behind her.

*     *     *

The being known as Lieutenant Senior Grade Lila Abernathy, Engineering Watch Officer, sat in her cabin and thought about the communication from the Emperor.  That is a target we cannot seem to hit, the Yugalyth thought, looking at its very human hand, totally unlike the member that it would normally use.  The creature was feeling paranoid, cut off from its kind, hiding out among humans, many of whom knew the being it was imitating to the point where it was constantly worrying about doing something that would give the game away.

It had been a near thing getting on this mission in the first place.  Security had been tight, but the Empire had yet to implement the detection measures they were now using.  And once the creature was aboard and the mission underway, there were no worries of attempts at detections, as long as it didn’t give itself away.

I could use some help, it thought, wringing its hands.  Unfortunately, a ship was a difficult place to attempt an abduction and replacement.  It took days to completely process the biomass and create another Yugalyth to mimic that human.  With duty rosters and shifts aboard the ship, people couldn’t go missing for more than their down time, or command would become suspicious.  But it had to do something.  It’s Knockermen masters had been defeated in their bid to take over the Elysium Empire.  The large aliens that had allied themselves with the Knockermen had been ejected from human space, and these ships were here to make an alliance with more of the hated humans.  And there was little a single engineering watch commander could do, not when her every move would be monitored when around something as potentially hazardous as the engines.

The Yugalyth had learned its lessons well.  It knew the procedure for detonating the engines in self-destruct, but did not know the bypass codes to do so, except for its own single personal code.  So that method of sabotage was out.  In fact, it could think of no way to stop these humans from contacted the other humans said to be on that planet ahead.

The moon, thought the Yugalyth, a smile stretching the human features of Lt. Abernathy. The creature had a cerebral implant, taken from the Spacer it had imitated.  That had been a delicate procedure that had required the aid of others of its kind, but it did interface with its very alien brain in a way that made whatever it connected to think the mind behind it was human.  Now it interfaced with the ship’s computer database, just like any crew person could do.  It looked through the database, the great majority of which were available to all.  They were Exploration Command, after all, and everyone was supposed to have access to information that they might be able to work on, to come up with new ideas.  And so the Yugalyth did, just not in the way the human crew had intended.

It could work, it thought, looking at the image of the habitable moon they were heading for. There were a lot of humans on that world, which it should be able to gain access to.  If not, there were many of the ones known as Klavarta as well, which would also do.

The Yugalyth logged out of the database and heading for the hatch to its living quarters.  It had time for a bite to eat, then report to its shift.  It would not do to start acting out of sorts and be late for duty.  Not when the end of the mission was in sight.

*     *     *

“We’ve received our final orbital insertion coordinates,” said the duty Helmsman.

Sung nodded, then remembered that the Helmsman had her attention focused on the boost profile that would take them out of the half orbit of the gas giant and into the path around the moon.

“Execute,” she told the Helmsman, who had to wait for her commander’s approval before following the instructions from the moon’s traffic control center.

Nina boosted at the proper vector at a dozen gravities for a few seconds, then boosted once again for one correction.  Her sisters were a couple of thousand kilometers behind, in line behind each other, and boosted in the exact same pattern when they reached the execution point.

Sung studied the plot that was alive with objects in orbit around the moon, the other moons and the gas giant; as well as hundreds of vessels that were transiting from one place in the gas giant system to another, or in and out of the cluster.  Thousands of objects.  The Helmsman and Sensor Officer were constantly checking those objects, making sure that the path was clear.  To their credit the traffic control system was moving everything out of the way, and the path was clear.

“I’ve got some interesting things here, ma’am,” called out the Tactical Officer, who was also screening the sensor feed.

“Send them back to my station,” she told Fujardo, then waited a few moments for a sextet of holo screens to materialize to either side of her chair.

One of the holos showed a large station, one that had the massive armored look of a fortress.  Fujardo had annotated the image, and the text appeared on her implant as she looked at the fort.  It veritably bristled with what had to be beam domes, while something else must have been hidden behind the hundreds of hatches on its hull.  There were over fifty fortresses of various sizes, from twenty tons up to a couple of monsters of over two hundred tons.  Other forts were in orbit around the gas giant, lending depth to the overall system defense.

“That’s more firepower than the entire Jewel system,” said Fujardo, looking back from his station.  “I estimate five times the beam weaponry, and no telling what kind of missile or projectile weapons are hidden.  And have you noticed the anomaly, ma’am?”

“The hatches,” said Sung, zooming in on one of the forts.  Almost all Imperial vessels and stations used nanomaterials that sealed the alloys of the door to the hull to the point where they became a single unitary object with no weak points.  The Empire had been utilizing such tech for centuries, improving it over that time.  “And the laser domes are similar to what the Cacas use.”  That was not as big a surprise.  A lot of species used such weapon ports, though the Empire had found the ring system much superior in putting maximum laser power on objects from any orientation to the firing ship.

The next screen showed some different stations, all with numerous large hatches set on their hulls.  Some of the hatches were open, showing small cruiser or destroyer sized vessels within.  The military shipbuilding industry of this system, and hatches again showing the lack of nanomaterials that even the Cacas used.

Space factories were the third type of construct shown, and there were a lot of them as well.  Again, they really couldn’t tell what they were churning out, but from the number of ships transferring to and from the factories from materials processing plants and the docks, they were making a lot of it.

The fourth holo was split into many smaller holos, showing a number of vessels in orbit.  There were hundreds of warships, mostly in far orbits.  None were larger than the small cruiser form, and most were about the size of frigates, which the exception of one ship that looked like some kind of small attack ship carrier.  As she watched a small ship, with annotation from Fujardo that it was in the thirty thousand ton range, approached that vessel and a hatch opened in the side, allowing it access to the large hangar visible within.

The fifth holo was showing what looked like satellites, from ten to a hundred thousand tons.  They had one of more large laser domes, what looked like a particle beam nozzle, and more of the hatches like the ones they thought hid missile tubes on the warships.  There were thousands of the satellites, all pointed out, and several hundred that were pointed in at the moon.  And what’s that about, thought the Commodore.  They added nothing to the defense of the system, and could only be meant to strike the surface of the moon.  Which meant the governing body thought there was a threat from their own people, right?

The last holo showed the surface of the moon.  She could only see one hemisphere, the one facing her ship, but with a thought she changed the shape to an oblong that showed most of the surface of the moon.  The statistics for the world came over her implant with a thought.

The moon had a density of one point one relative to Earth, which meant it contained more metals.  Its radius was only point nine three Earth’s, with a surface area of four hundred and forty six million square kilometers and a diameter of eleven thousand nine hundred kilometers.  The gravity, due to the density, was slightly higher than Earth’s at one point zero three gees.  Geosynch was thirty four thousand eight hundred and seventy kilometers from the surface.  It orbited its brown dwarf primary every ninety-one hours, and since it was tidally locked to the gas giant, that was the length of its day.

The surface of the moon was about fifty-four percent water, giving it more land surface than Earth.  There were two supercontinents, one in each hemisphere straddling the equators up to the temperate zones, and three smaller island continents, the smallest about the size of Australia.  That surface showed a lot of green, though there were some brown patches of extensive deserts on both of the supercontinents.

“Looks like a generally pleasant place,” she said, looking over at Fujardo.  “And a fucking fortress.”

“That last part was what I am more concerned about, ma’am,” said the Tactical Officer.  “If they decide to fire us up, we’re gone.”

“We knew the risks coming here,” said Sung.  “We’re here to make friends with these people, not to fight them.”

“And if they turn out to be like the Emperor fears?” asked Laaksonen over the com.

“Then we open up one of our wormholes as a gate and bail the hell out of here, Exec,” she told the Commander.  “And we set our ships to self-destruct so they don’t get any of our tech.”

“Com coming in from the moon, ma’am,” called out Picard.

“Put it on the main viewer.”

A head and upper body appeared on the holo, a wall behind her that showed a series of images.  Globes that looked like the western hemisphere of this moon on it, a sword and ax crossed behind them.

“Welcome to the Klavarta Empire, Commodore Sung,” said the woman with a smile.  “Or should I say, the Oligarchy of New Earth.”

“We have not heard that term before,” said Sung.  “And you are?”

“We do not allow that term to be used outside of this system,” said the woman.  “We still believe it is to our advantage that the Monsters do not know who we really are, but only have contact with our surrogates.  And I am the First Assistant Underdirector of, ah, Interspecies Relations, Thallia Thrann, and answer directly to Chairwoman Marion Pallion.  The Chairwoman requests that you and your senior officers come down to the coordinates we are sending you.  She would like to meet with you, face to face.”

“Do you function as an ambassador, Underdirector Thrann?” asked the Exec over the com.

“We, uh, don’t have any ambassadors,” said the woman.

Careful, Exec, sent Sung to her ship’s second in command.  Let’s not get them to thinking we might have figured them out, whether we have or not.

“I will be leaving my ship with my department heads in ten minutes,” said Sung to the woman on the holo.  “Do you want the captains of my other ships as well?”

“That is not necessary,” said Thrann, “at least for now.  The Chairwoman just wants to actually meet you face to face, let you know something about us while we learn about you.  We are very excited about meeting our brothers and sisters of Old Earth, to realize that we are not alone, not the only survivors.  And we hope that we will come to an understanding that will benefit both of us in our war against the Monsters.  We will see you down on the moon.”

“And what do you call your moon?” asked Sung.

“Why, New Earth, of course,” said the woman with a smile, just before the holo went black.

*     *     *

“They definitely appear to be human, Madame Chairwoman,” said Thallia Thrann, standing in front of the desk of Marion Pallion. The office was the largest and most ornate in the entire Council building, a befit the most powerful human in the star nation.

“Appear to be,” said the Chairwomen in a tone that dripped doubt and suspicion.  “And after thousands of years, they just happen to show up here, with a story about how they turned right when we turned left, and ended up on the other side of the Ca’cadasan Empire.  How convenient.”

“We will, of course, take samples when they arrive,” said Thrann, who really wanted these to be representatives of their long lost brethren.  And they were said to have aliens among them.  She did not like what her people had done to the nonhuman species in their region.  She had studied history, unlike most of her people, and understood what genocide meant.  If these humans could coexist with nonhumans, even make them a part of their own nation, didn’t that mean that the human species was not totally inimical to all alien life, unlike her branch?  “The Klavarta vouch for their being Pure human.”

Thrann was, of course, a Pure human, but she had yet to go through a cloning cycle.  Having become intimate with the Council, and their lack of empathy for their subjects, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go through that.  At only forty years old, she still had over a half century before she had to make that decision.  She just hoped that impending death didn’t make up her mind for her, but she had seen how others had reacted when offered immortality.  But she didn’t want to become such as the Council and most of their high ranking subordinates were.

“And the Klavarta would have no idea how to spot a fake,” said Pallion, her hand grabbing an electronic pen and twirling it in her fingers.  “I don’t want to take any chances.  Those ships are to be watched closely.  Any ships they launch without permission are to be captured, or, that not being possible, destroyed.  I want weapons locked onto their vessels at all times.  And any who come down to our world are to be escorted at all times, and the escorts are to be armed.”

“You don’t think that will make them wonder about us?” asked Thrann.  “They may leave here and tell their people to have nothing to do with us.”

“If we are not satisfied that their intentions are positive toward us, they will not leave here,” said Pallion, her eyes narrowing.

“And if word gets back to their Empire?”

“How will word get back to their Empire?” asked Pallion with a laugh.  “They are thirty thousand light years from their home.  There is no way they can get a message back to their people.  Even if they are just some kind of plant from the Monsters, they will not get back to their masters with any information about us.”

Thrann nodded at that.  It had been long rumored that the Ca’cadasans had kept some humans alive, so they could use them to spy on the humans who had escaped them, if that time ever came.  Maybe that time had come.

“What orbit did you put them in?”

“Geosynch,” said Thrann, checking through her implant.  “They are thirty-eight thousand kilometers from our surface.  Even if they are big bombs, the damage to us should be minimal.”

“And those ships are to get no closer.  In fact, I might consider having them move out another couple of tens of thousands kilometers.”

“If you wish, Madam Chairwoman.”

“We will wait, for now, until we know more about them.  But they must be scanned and disarmed before they meet with the Council.  And they are to speak to no one without my permission.”

“Yes, ma’am.  As soon as we have checked them out, I will bring them to the Council building.”

“Then get moving,” said the Chairwoman, waving the other woman away like she was a disruptive kitten.

Thrann nodded and walked from the office, sending for her aircar as she headed for the rooftop landing pad.  She didn’t like her boss, or her government.  She didn’t like some of the things they had done in their long history.  It had been in the name of survival.  But it still was not something to be proud of, and she was sure that someday the community of intelligent species would punish them for it.

*     *      *

Sung sat in the copilot’s seat of the assault shuttle so she could see everything on the way in.  Not that she couldn’t watch it from a cabin seat on a holo, or simply by closing her eyes and watching it on her own occipital lobes by implant feed.  It just didn’t feel the same as sitting in the control center of the shuttle.

Lt. JG Mohammed Samara was the pilot, probably the best aboard the Nina, and therefore the entire squadron.  He was also a trained engineer, and was assigned to take a good look at any unusual technology they might come across.  He was to be the eyes of Commander Ionesco, the Chief Engineer, who was also along, but would probably be busy with diplomatic tasks; just like Major Saul Briggs, Commander Saul Beoit, the chief biologist; and Commander Lee Song, the sociologist.  Each also had an assistant with them, who would try to gather information.

She had also brought two alien crewmen along.  The Phlistaran Marine Platoon Sergeant Tia’lash, and a Gryphon Planetologist, Lt. Commander Hrrssai Lonlilo.  She had thought for a moment before including them, but she wanted to see what the reaction would be to their presence.

“We’re being locked on by a number of sensor platforms,” said Samara, as the small holo between them over the control board showed scans coming from a dozen satellites and another dozen based on the surface of the moon.  “If I didn’t know better, I would think those are targeting systems.”

“I do know better,” said the Commodore.  “And those are targeting systems.”  That thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she said a quick prayer, something she had not done in a long time.  She was not all that afraid to die, but she did not want to come all this way just so some trigger happy idiot could blow them out of space.

“We have three craft on intercept,” said Samara, switching the holo to show the shuttle’s own targeting system.  “Com coming in.”

“Alien craft,” came the voice over the com without a visual signal.  “We will escort your craft to the landing site that was sent to you before you left your ship.  Do not deviate from your course.  Repeat, do not deviate from your programed course.”

“Friendly bunch,” said Samara, glancing over at his Commodore and trying to keep a nonchalant expression on his face.

He’s scared, she thought, her eyes moving automatically to a holo that was showing one of their escorts.  Well, so am I.  And I do believe our hosts are as well.  They don’t know anything about us except what our Klavarta guides have told them.

The craft she was looking at looked much like an Imperial orbit to atmosphere fighter craft.  Such craft were much more maneuverable than the lump of a shuttle she was currently riding in.  Her shuttle was probably more heavily armed than any single one of them, but they were a trio.  And they had an entire world as backup.

Moments later the shuttle started shaking a bit at it sliced into the outer atmosphere.  Samara made some adjustments to the grabbers, allowing the ship’s computer more control, letting it adjust out the turbulence.  The shuttle adjusted its profile, slowing, its grabbers converting inertia to heat, radiating it away from their red hot supermetal frames.

Lower down it straightened out, attaining a level flight profile, curving slightly to head for the coordinates they had been ordered to.  The escorts followed close, staying on the shuttle’s tail where they were in the best attack profile.

The shuttle was looking around as it flew, its passive sensor suite sampling the entire electromagnetic spectrum and feeding it to the cockpit.  Samara paid attention to making sure the shuttle stayed in the specified flight profile, something the pilot was not willing to trust to the computer alone.  His Commodore studied the lay of the land, watching as the ground unrolled beneath them.

It was a lovely world.  Rolling forest over hills, great rivers transferring water from lakes and mountains to the oceans.  The atmospheric analysis was showing clear air as close to Earth normal as was possible for a world that was not Earth.

“Landing field ahead,” said Samara, breaking her out of her thoughts about the world they were flying over.  “It looks to be out in the middle of nowhere.”

Sung looked at the map holo that showed the blinking area.  There were a number of small towns on that map, but none closer than a hundred kilometers to the field.  The large city they thought was the capital was actually still around the horizon, several thousand kilometers away.  They definitely aren’t taking any chances, she thought.  I wonder why they even let us land, and didn’t just try and board our ships from a distance.  She was glad they hadn’t decided on that, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had.  Resisting would have been a bad idea, but giving up their secrets would also have been.  She would have had to resist long enough to get rid of data and some of her tech, including the wormholes.  And that would cut them off from base.  Unless she resisted long enough to get her people through the holes, which would also kill the mission.

“You are cleared for landing at the designated field,” came the voice over the com.  The field expanded on the central holo over the board.  It looked like a standard airfield, the kind used to station a small air wing, or as a transport hub.  Since it was in the middle nowhere, the latter possibility was remote.

The landing was uneventful, almost perfect, the shuttle slowing to a hover and lowering itself gently to the tarmac, and a cursor appeared on the viewer that pointed where their hosts wanted them to taxi to.  The voice returned, and instructed them to head to that area along the ground.  Samara looked over at the Commodore with confusion on his face.  She knew what he was feeling.  Most landing fields in the Empire would allow modern craft to land directly at the debarkation points.  Sung nodded, and Samara lowered the wheels on the landing struts until they touched down and lifted the shuttle slightly above the pads.

“We seem to have a lot of company watching,” said Samara, pointing to the holo which showed a view of the field that was rolling by to the side.  There were obvious armored war vehicles and ground troops out there, watching as the shuttle rolled by.

Do they think I have a ground brigade hiding in this shuttle? she thought.

“This is the spot,” said Samara as he stopped the shuttle, then engaged the wheels to rise back up the landing struts so that the pads again touched down on the tarmac.

“You will now leave your craft,” said the com.  “You are to bring no weapons with you, and any containers you carry must be placed on the tarmac as soon as you exit.”

“Well, we might as well face our hosts,” said Sung, getting out of her seat harness and rising, then pulling her small overnight bag from the locker she had stored in it.  She walked out of the cockpit and nodded to the other people who were also grabbing the one piece of luggage she had allowed each of them to bring.  “I’ll go first,” she told the others, hitting the panel that would open the hatch.

Outside was a gathering of both humans and Klavarta, many of the latter armed, mostly the frightening looking warrior caste that really didn’t need any additional weaponry.  No weapons were pointed her way, but they were at angles from which they could aim her direction in a moment.

She stepped down the retractable stairs that had extruded from the shuttle.  As soon as she stepped onto the tarmac she set down her bag and stepped forward, while the next crew person came down the stairs.

“We must scan you, ma’am,” said a human, stepping forward with a device in his hands.

“Go ahead,” she answered, holding her arms up and letting the man run the scanner over her, moving around and making sure he covered her from every angle.

As the next person down, Major Briggs, stepped onto the tarmac, another human came forward and started to scan him.  This continued for the next three of the Imperials, until Sergeant Tia’lash stepped onto the stairs after twisting his large body through the hatch.

“What the hell is that?” called a voice from the crowd.

“It’s a monster,” said another voice.

Weapons that had been held at the ready were now pointed at the Phlistaran, who stopped in his tracks, his eyes showing his near panic.  Sung turned and ran past her other crew, up the stairs to stand in front of the Marine.

“This is one of my crewmen.  He is with me, and you will not threaten him.  Is that understood?”

Heads nodded, weapons were lowered, and Sung led the Sergeant down the steps, then walked back up to escort Lt. Commander Lonlilo down.  And now I know something about how these people, these xenophobes, feel about nonhumans.

As Samara left the shuttle the hatch closed behind him, in seconds the seams disappearing as the nanomaterials turned the door into just another section of the armored hull.  As soon as the pilot stepped off the steps they also retracted back into the hull, disappearing into a cavity that was soon sealed off in the same manner as the hatch.

“We need to inspect your craft, ma’am,” said the man who had scanned Sung.

“You are not allowed on our shuttle, which is the sovereign territory of the New Terran Empire,” she told the man, standing to her full height and looking up into his eyes with an unflinching expression.  “We followed all of your orders to come down here, as offensive as they were to us as guests of your nation.  But you will not enter my shuttle and attempt to invade its system, is that understood?”

“And I have my orders,” said the man, waving a pair of Klavarta engineers forward.

“I would not attempt to force your way in,” said Sung.  “The shuttle will respond to such an attempt.”

“Stand down,” called out a commanding voice, and the woman she had talked to while up in orbit stepped through the crowd, a section of Klavarta warrior caste at her back.  “These people are our guests.”

“But, Madame Underdirector,” said the man who had his orders, his tone showing his panic.  “They have nonhumans.”

“Then they are our guests as well,” she told the man, staring him down.  She stepped closer to the man and whispered.  An old style human couldn’t have heard him, but Sung could barely make it out.  “Their ways are not our ways.  And Chairwoman Pallion might want to forge an alliance with these people.  So don’t you go fucking it up.”

Thrann stepped away, the man nodding his head furiously, his eyes wide.  The Underdirector turned back to Sung, a smile on her face that looked like it was pasted on.  “I am so sorry about this misunderstanding, Commodore.  You are, of course, welcome.”

We have been invaded by nanites, ma’am, said her own implant to her.  They are primitive compared to what we utilize.  Should we repel them?

She sent a reply back, ordering her system not to fight back as long as they were just checking her out.  After all, she had done the same thing to the Klavarta who had come aboard her ship.  She really didn’t blame them, since they would want to make sure that they were actually human.  She wondered what they would make of the improved human genome.  Or if theirs was just as improved.

Her biological personnel had their own nanites ready to invade the Pure humans and get a genetic scan on them as well.  She had wanted them to wait until they were sure their nanotech was better, since it might be considered intrusive to their hosts.  Now it didn’t look like it mattered, but she still decided to wait.

“We have a transport waiting for you a short distance from here,” said Thrann, motioning for the soldiers and the gawkers to get out of the way.  The Klavarta she had brought along with her, who were wearing a different uniform than the warriors who had greeted them, moved people out of the way and blocked the crowd from following.

The transport looked like a dedicated atmospheric vehicle that was built for luxury, not speed, though she was sure at their tech level that it was probably hypersonic as well.  Thrann showed them to the luxurious cabin that could have held three times their number, while the Klavarta warriors moved to a different area of the plane.

“As you could probably guess, this is a fast plane,” said Thrann, sitting in a comfortable seat in facing Sung.  “But we will be taking our time so that you can get a look at our world, and so that, to be perfectly honest, the Council can get ready for you.”

“And what was the problem with my nonhumans?” she asked, wondering if she would get an honest answer to that one from someone who looked to be a member of a xenophobic society.

“We are just not used to seeing nonhumans,” said the woman after a slight pause that showed she was thinking about it.  “The only nonhumans we see are those who are subject races of the Monsters, the Ca’cadasans.”

“And why are there no nonhumans in your own nation?” asked Lt. Commander Lonlilo, sitting next to Sung.

Thrann stared at the Gryphon, an expression not really of distaste, but more of embarrassment.  “When we first arrived here, the ruling Council was not in the mood to trust aliens.  So we, arranged, to move them from the areas we needed to be.”

To move them, thought Sung, keeping her expression blank.  Still nothing solid, but her suspicions had been aroused.  Move them to another planet, or into the grave?

She looked out the window for a moment.  They were flying low and slow, and she could make out the tops of the trees down below.  They looked like maples, elms and oaks.  They went over a large clearing fronting a large lake, and what looked like elk stared up at the plane.

“Everything is Earth form?” she asked the other woman.

“We wanted the world to be as much like Earth as possible,” said Thrann, looking out her window.  “Or at least the people who got here first did.”

“And you terraformed this world right after arriving here?” asked Sung, raising an eyebrow.  She knew from the history of her own Empire that it was two centuries before they tried to tackle any terraforming projects, which were very energy intensive.

“This was already a living world when we arrived,” said Thrann, looking away from the Commodore so her eyes were pointed toward the window.  “All we had to do was introduce our own life forms to make it another Earth.”

“And what happened to the native life?” asked Saul Benoit from a row over.

“We, replaced it,” said Thrann, again looking uncomfortable.  “Let me ask you some questions about your Empire, which I have been dying to know.”

And so you get out of talking about your own nation, and the aspects of it which seem to make you uncomfortable, thought Sung, nodding.

“How many humans in your Empire?”

“What?” asked Sung of Benoit, looking back at his seat.  “Eight hundred billion in the Empire?”

“At least that many, plus another couple of hundred billion in the Republic,” answered the biologist.

“And almost three hundred billion nonhumans,” said Sung, looking back at Thrann, wanting to see how she reacted.

“That many,” said Thrann, her eyes wide.  “How do you all get along?”

“Not really much of a problem,” said Sung.  “Maybe some at first when we bring them into the Empire.  But we treat them like people, and they act like people.”  She looked over at her Gryphon planetologist.  “And some of them have added their distinctive talents to the Empire.”

“And how many humans have the Monsters killed in your war with them, so far?”

“Twenty billion?”

“I think that’s correct, Commodore,” said Lonlilo.  “And not only humans, though the Cacas seem to have a tendency to target humans first.”

“Twenty billion Pure humans killed,” said Thrann in a hushed voice.  “That’s many times what we have in total.”

“How many of the, uh, Pure humans do you have in your nation?” asked Sung, not sure she would even get an answer, but the young woman was so shocked by what they had just told her that she couldn’t hold back.

“Maybe fifty million,” said Thrann, looking out the window, then back with a tear in her eye.  “We thought we were doing so well here, preserving the human species.  And we are nothing compared to you.”

“We’ve noticed your tech is deficient in some respects,” said Sung, thinking of that disparity.  They must have a hundred times the number of scientists and engineers in the Empire, and the production of all those minds.  “You get most of your tech from the Cacas, don’t you?  The Monsters?” she continued when the woman didn’t answer.

“I’m, not at liberty to discuss that,” said Thrann, looking away.  “You will have to ask the Chairwoman that question.”

The next ten minutes of the flight was in silence, Sung realizing that the woman had shut down and would not answer any more questions.  She seemed to liven up a bit when the aircraft had landed, and they were ushered out onto the tarmac where a pair of short range transports waited for them.

The city they flew over looked much like any frontier city of the Empire, with some tall buildings, but mostly a sprawl of low rises interspersed with parkland.  In the distance was another sprawl, curving around the outskirts of the city.  Sung focused her eyes to bring the distant image in closer, and was surprised to see that all the buildings were unornamented grey, like some kind of concrete.  The word slum came to mind, and she wondered what kind of people lived there in what was obviously a rich high energy society.

The government building was the highest tower in the city, rising out of a massive low-rise.  Their transports came down on the very top of the building, on the landing pad that was set to one side.  A number of beings stood nearby the pad, many of them the Klavarta warriors that seemed ubiquitous in this, the center of the nation.

“You are to meet with the Chairwoman immediately,” said Thrann, motioning to a lift just off the pad.

Sung nodded and followed, while she looked over the take from the nanites they had released on the aircraft.  The genetic structure of the humans on-board had been close to that of Earth born humans, with some basic improvements, but nothing like what had been done to humans in the second century of the Empire.  She thought over those results as they boarded the lift and started down.

“The Chairwoman is in her personal conference chamber,” said Thrann as they walked down a long corridor.  “After she has talked with you a bit, the entire Council will be anxious to see you.”

Chapter Ten

A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury.

John Stuart Mill.

NEW EARTH MAY 16TH, 1002.

Chairwoman Marion Pallion sat at the table looking at her guests.  The humans looked normal enough.  More or less like her own people, the Pure humans.  The two aliens they had brought along, on the other hand.  The one who looked like some kind of heavy boned bird was bad enough, but the damned dragon, crocodile, centaur, whatever you wanted to call him, was almost too much.

How in the hell do they get along with another species? she thought, staring at the crocogator centaur with a glaring eye.

Her people had never tried to get along with any of the other species they had found, not after running from the murderous race that had tried to exterminate their own.  When they had settled here, the other species they had found were seen as a threat to the human race.  The beings the humans created were guaranteed not to give the presence of the race away to the Cacas.  The aliens, not so much, and the easiest solution to that problem was to just be rid of them.

“We are so happy to meet with our sisters and brothers from the stars,” said Pallion, forcing a smile on her face.  “I cannot tell you how wonderful it feels to know we are not alone in our struggle against the Monsters.”

“I’m sure we feel the same way, Madame Chairwoman,” said Commodore Sung, a smile on her own face that didn’t fool Pallion in the least.  “We too struggle against the Ca’cadasans.  And my Emperor will be happy to know that other humans struggle along with us.”

And you trust aliens in your struggle, thought the Chairwoman, still not sure she could believe that concept.  She hated species other than her own.  That was a common feeling among the undying members of the government,  She was sure most of the other Pure humans felt the same.  There were some dissenters, though those members of the society were careful not to call too much attention to themselves.  She wasn’t sure, with all of her power, that the Pure population would put up with an alliance with such people.  But she was a politician, and now was the time to act like one.

“We welcome the contact,” she said, smiling at those around the table, the expression failing a moment as she looked at the two aliens.  They made her heart beat, faster, and she would have liked nothing more than to have ordered them destroyed.  That would not be in the best interest of her people.  If these visitors wanted to live with the filthy nonhumans, that was their business.  It was hers to make sure that they did not come here in their masses and pollute her worlds.

“We will have many meetings in the future,” she told the Commodore, the smile again firmly fixed on her face.  “I look forward to forging a firm relationship with you and your people.  Now, I have a nation to run, and a war to fight.  If you will excuse me.”

The expression on the Commodores face told the story of her disappointment.  She is a good ambassador, but not good enough, thought the Chairwoman, not even thinking for a moment that maybe it was because she was not in touch with normal human emotions anymore that she could be so good at what she did.

*     *     *

IMPERIAL SPACE, MAY 17TH, 1002.

“Raising warp bubble, now,” called out the Pilot.

Captain Jinghua Chou nodded as she watched the tactical holo that showed the command flight of her wing, as well as the representative squadron they were deploying with, disappear from the plot.  They were of course still there, just cut off from the rest of the Universe.  Or they had been, until now, if everything worked out.  But now came the most important question.

“Do you have contact with your siblings, Spacer Naranta?” she asked the newest of her crewmembers.  She still had trouble with the fact that the spacer was being deployed without the requisite four months of basic, then the three to four months of com school.  She had been fast tracked through because of her special talents, and that was something the Captain had been happy to see.

“It, is a little blurry, ma’am,” said the Spacer in heavily accented Terranglo, the kind that was learned through implant programing without the needed vocal training.  “But it is there.”

Just like the initial studies said would happen, thought the Wing Commander, looking at the strange alien that was a member of the species said to be the solution to the greatest problems faced by the inertia less fighters.

Mzzarat Naranta was a prime example of her species, and one the strangest looking aliens the Captain had ever seen.  A Klassekian, among one of the first group of siblings evacuated from that world back to the Exploration Command base when it was still thought that the population of the planet was doomed.  But the mechanisms of a long lost race had saved the planet from the wave of radiation spreading from a nearby supernova.  Still, those who had been evacuated became part of the Empire by default, mostly because the Empire had need of their peculiar talent, their ability to communicate with the minds of those they had shared the womb with by means of quantum entanglement.

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.

Angel aimed his weapon, developing a good sight picture on the man.  His finger was on the firing stud, his mind telling his body to not to hurry the shot, much as he wanted to get it over with, and then engage the second target.  And she’s fucking pregnant, he thought with repugnance at what he was about to do.

From what he had heard, the Emperor was a good man, a good ruler, and what the Empire needed at this time.  And the person who wanted him killed was not a good person, and would see that the Empire was misruled from the moment she took over.  Oh yeah, you bitch.  Don’t think I know who you are, that you were so clever, but you really don’t know who you’re dealing with.

The couple started walking toward the lift, the woman with her hand on the forearm of the man.  Angel could imagine what her last image would be, before he took off her head as well and ended her nightmare.  He looked back into the scope, developed the perfect picture, and let them step into the lift, the doors closing behind them instantly.

What the hell is wrong with me? he thought as he watched his hundred million imperials walk away.  What the hell is wrong with me? he thought again, though this time in another context.  He was out here in the night attempting to kill his Emperor.

At one time Angel had been a Fleet commando, serving his Empire with honor and courage.  And then had come the incident that had ruined his career, and sent him into another line of work.  Mostly he killed people who deserved it.  Mostly.  He demanded a high wage, and guaranteed his work.  Contract Angel to kill and the target was dead.  So why in the hell did he take this contract to kill someone who didn’t deserve it.  Anger at the Empire for kicking Lt. Commander Sergio Martinez from the service he loved?  And taking it out on the son of the Emperor in charge at that time, who also had nothing to do with it?  Was it because he gave up a predicted five decades of his life to become augmented, only to have them take that away from him as well?

That was one of the reasons he became a killer for hire, making the kind of money that could buy his augmentation back from the right people.  But the thrill of the hunt and the kill had become addictive as well, and now he was trapped in this lifestyle.

I’ve got to go through with this, he thought as he lowered his rifle and relaxed in a hover against the building.  I’ve taken the money, and even if I give it back, I will still become a target myself.  While he was sure he could handle the first team to come after him, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.  So he would just have to quell his misgivings and kill the young couple when they exited the theater.

*     *     *

“That was wonderful,” said Jennifer as they stepped into the lift for the short ride to the rooftop landing pad.

“It was a lot of fun,” said Sean, thinking back to the spectacle they had just attended.  Based on a fantasy novel from old Earth, adapted by the greatest living playwright in Capitulum, it had featured a mixed cast of humans and citizen aliens.  Humans had played most of the parts, though Malticons had taken the roles of the dwarves and halflings, and a huge Phlistaran had enacted the part of the dragon, much to the delight of the audience.  Not really the most philosophical or thought provoking play, but very enjoyable.

Jennifer closed her eyes and smiled, and Sean squeezed her hand.  And what would I do if you were not here? he thought, looking into her deep blue eyes as she opened them and looked up at him.

The lift stopped, the doors opened, and he saw that she security detail was already prepared.  He helped his wife from the lift and was about to lead her to the car when shouts of alarm came over the tactical net, followed by an inrush of troopers in heavy suits, three each on he and the Empress.  In an instant they were sealed in armored cocoons while the detail handled the threat.  He heard a couple of muffled explosions, then more calls over the net.

*     *     *

“We have a shooter up here, sighting in on the Emperor,” came the call over the suit’s com.

Angel thought he still had time for the shot, though he couldn’t understand why he had hesitated yet again.  He never hesitated.  Not when he had made up his mind, as he thought he had.  But when he saw the young man and his pregnant wife once again, that surety went out the window.

His suit had a complete com suite, and he was constantly monitoring every tactical channel, police and military.  Most of those coms were encrypted to the maximum, and he had the protocols to break through that encryption.  The suit computer was, of course, screening through all of the channels, looking for keywords that might alert the assassin that someone was on to him.  Shooter was one of those words.

He thought he still had time for the shot, which was also uncharacteristic for him.  He looked back through his scope, zooming in, just before two groups of armored soldiers ran into the picture, something releasing and expanding from their armor.  Within less than a second both were surrounded in cylinders of armor, while the troopers turned outward, their weapons ready.

That’s a neat trick, he thought, not sure he could get a shot in through that kind of protection, which had to be as strong of armor as could be made.  And why didn’t I go ahead and shoot?

A wide spectrum sonic played over his armor at that thought, enough energy to drop just about any living being into unconsciousness.  His suit shrugged it off like it wasn’t there, while alerting him to its presence.  He looked up to see a military aircar hanging overhead, the source of the sonic, the turreted particle beam on its nose turning in his direction.  Angel didn’t think his suit would shrug off that weapon.  It might survive a second or two, no more, and even that much exposure could damage it to the point where he was rendered helpless.

With a thought he swung the rifle up, the link with his suit switching it to full auto.  He pressed the stud and sent a stream of penetrators into the nose of the car as it sat above him at a distance of seven hundred meters.  The rounds impacted just about perfectly on the particle beam, striking within centimeters of the barrel.  The minute antimatter warheads detonated in bright pinpoints, shredding the barrel and the hull around it.

“We’re hit,” yelled a voice over one of the police tactical bands, which was the overall command and control frequency of the Emperor’s security.  Others answered, and Angel’s suit picked up a number of aircars and a tactical police squad in power armor headed his way.  A particle beam came up from the roof of the theater, barely missing him and blasting a hole in the window behind him.

“Cease fire,” called out a commanding voice.  “Only fire when you have a clear shot.”

And Angel was not about to let them get that shot.  He engaged his grabbers and shot up at two hundred gravities, trading stealth for speed as the propulsion vanes popped out on his arms, legs and back to start offloading heat.

Uh oh, he thought as his HUD showed more objects converging on him from above.  He increased his acceleration, shooting over the top of the skyscraper, then reversing his boost, curving over the crown of the building and shooting down the other side.

Yells of amazement and alarm came over the com.  His suit was pulling more gees than the best atmospheric fighter in the Imperial inventory, more than three times what any aircar could do, much less a suit.  He sped down the side of the building, watching the ground approaching in a rush.  Something shot, and a series of windows blew out behind him, as more calls to cease fire came over the net.  The bastards really want me, thought Angel, and he couldn’t blame them.  But he was counting on their not wanting to cause collateral damage in the capital city to get him.

Angel pulled up, going a bit beyond the capabilities of the suit, his vision redding out for a second before he flattened out and headed down the center of the street, hitting Mach four ten meters above the surface.  Ground cars, what few there were, rocked underneath, while pedestrians were blown off their feet.

The HUD showed more aircars converging well ahead.  They weren’t about to give up, and if they responded fast enough, there was a possibility they could trap him.  Probably not a capture, but a kill was a definite possibility.  He checked the map on the HUD and planned his next move, just seconds before he had to execute.  The suit decelerated at twelve gravities above the limits of its inertial compensators, and his vision blacked for a moment while the suit executed the maneuver on its own, taking a ninety degree turn and shooting down a narrow alleyway.

A kilometer further, he took another killing turn, and headed for the zoological gardens, a huge park that was sure to be filled with people even at this hour.  First, I need to get rid of this thing, he thought, releasing his rifle and letting it fall under its own antigravs, heading for the industrial class waste receptacle on a side alley.  Maybe he would be able to recover it later.  If not, it was not worth more than his life and freedom, and could be replaced.

Pursuit vehicles were still on closing trajectories, and he knew that he was giving off enough heat that the high atmospheric sensors were tracking him despite his maneuvers.  The zoo was coming up fast, thousands of square kilometers of habitats and buildings, one of the major attractions of the megalopolis, with animals from thousands of worlds.

Now, he thought, setting the last trick in place.  The suit went into a max deceleration profile, slowing to a couple of hundred kilometers per hour, then jettisoning the framework the grabber units were attached to.  That framework shot ahead, accelerating and going into a severe right turn.  Angel then turned in the air and activated his reserve grabbers, dropping lightly to his feet in the shadows behind one of the habitats.  Whatever was in that habitat, a square kilometer of glassed in holding area, started trumpeting its displeasure at the sound of the decoy unit flying over.

Angel activated the next stealth feature of the suit, and while the helmet and gauntlets retracted out of the way and the surface of the armor rippled and took on the appearance of cloth, and suddenly he looked just like any other office worker in a working jumpsuit.  He walked with a normal pace out of the shadows and blended in with the crowd, most of which were still looking up to see if they could locate whatever it was that had flown over.  Minutes later they were back with their attention focused on the wonders around them.  Angel walked toward the nearest transport hub, his suit powered down except for its stealth features, just another one of the crowd, while the police and military were still engaged in seeking the decoy.

As he reached the stairs down to the public transport something exploded in the sky kilometers away.  The decoy had been destroyed, fulfilling its purpose, and as long as he didn’t make any attention catching mistakes, he was home free.

*     *     *

“We think he’s one of your assets, Sondra,” said the Imperial Intelligence Agency Director Ekaterina Sergiov, looking across the table at the Chief of Naval Operations, Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom.  “Or at least he was, before you kicked him out.”

“And what did he get kicked out of the Fleet for?” asked Sean, sitting at the head of the table, his cousin and Regent, Samantha Ogden Lee, to his right.  Jennifer had excused herself from this meeting, and Sean could not blame her a bit.  After all, by all indications they could have been, should have been, dead.  But for some reason the assassin had not taken the shot.

“What was his name, Ekaterina?” asked McCullom, closing her eyes as she went into link with the building’s comp.

“Angel Sergio Martinez,” said the Intelligence Director.  “Now known in the underworld as the Angel of Death.”

“Got him,” said Sondra, and the image of a young man in Fleet dress uniform came up on the holo, the gold oak leaves of a Lt. Commander on his shoulder boards, a Naval Commando slash on his left upper sleeve.  “Graduated at the top of every class at the Academy, then breezed through commando training.  One defect.  He was on the top end of people who were longevity sensitive to the augmentation process, and lost an estimated five decades of life.”

Sean whistled.  The average augment lost three decades of life for the privilege of becoming a superman.  Some lost as much as four.  People who had the genome that would cause more of a loss were discouraged from undergoing the process, but some still insisted on it.

“Perfect record, including five combat operations in the Lasharan sector, until the incident that led to a court martial and release from the service,” said McCullom, nodding at the image, which changed to a man in combat cammies, his face painted, looking ready for a drop.

“And what was the, incident?” asked Sean, looking at the serious face.

“Four of his platoon were killed by an explosive device planted by Lasharan rebels,” said McCullom, closing her eyes once again.  “Unrecoverable.  So he took it out on the village nearest the booby trap.”

“Crap,” said Sean, closing his own eyes.  He could understand how the officer must have felt, having men under him, some of whom may have been close friends, vaporized before his eyes.  And no killers to strike back at.  Just a nice peaceful village full of people who hated his guts, and probably knew who had planted the device.  And the temptation to get revenge on those who had killed people who were dear to him.  Understandable, but in no way acceptable, and he should have been drummed out of the service.  He was lucky that he didn’t get serious time in confinment.

“Are you sure this man is our assassin?” asked McCullom, looking over at Sergiov.

Ekaterina looked at her own boss, Lord T’lisha, the  Phlistaran Minister of Security, who shook his massive head.

“We do not know for sure if this is the Angel of Death,” said Ekaterina, looking at the Emperor.  “All we have are suspicions, and some eyewitnesses that put him near meetings with people just before some of the enemies of those folks disappeared.  Otherwise, with the tech he uses it is just about impossible to find any evidence at the scene.”

“But you think this is the man who tried to kill me and the Empress?” asked Sean, his eyes narrowing.

“If I had to bet, then yes, your Majesty,” said T’lisha in his deep growling voice.  “This is the man.”

“Then I want him,” yelled Sean, slamming his hand down on the table.  “No matter how many people you have to put on this, I want him, dead or alive.  Preferably alive, so we can find out who put him up to this.”  Sean had his suspicions about exactly who hired this assassin, but without proof there wasn’t much he could do to a peer of the realm, not with the political power they had.  With proof, he could bring them to a swift trial and get them out of his hair.

“I still have some problems with this entire scenario, your Majesty,” said Ekaterina, her expression one of anxious determination to broach a difficult subject.

“And what is that, Ekaterina?” asked Sean, glaring at the woman.

“Look at this, your Majesty,” she said, switching the holo to a view of the assassination attempt.  “We didn’t know what we were looking at on the scene, because his stealth systems were so good.  The best I have ever seen, much better than anything our own agents use.  Or that the Fleet uses.”

The holo showed the side of the skyscraper that looked directly down on the theater.  There was a very blurry image hanging in the air against one of the windows high up the building.  “This is actually an enhanced image, run through our systems until we got this much.  The people on the spot were not able to get even this much.  There were some reported anomalies by the people on the spot, but only after the fact, because it was something that was easy to overlook.”

The holo split, showing both the image on the side of the building, and the Emperor and Empress coming out of their car and heading into the building.  The time stamp was the same on both views, indicating that both were happening simultaneously.  It took them almost a minute to get from the car to the lift with their speaking and meandering.

“Do you see it, your Majesty?” asked Ekaterina, nodding toward the holo.

“He had more than enough time to kill both of us,” said Sean, nodding in return.  “But would he have gotten away with it?  Maybe that’s why he didn’t pull the trigger.”

“And here is the take when you came out of the theater, while the assassin hung there for over two hours,” said Ekaterina, as the images played back.  The image moved in on the assassin and the com erupted with calls of sighting him.  The assassin fired his rifle, and pinpoint bright explosions erupted over the nose of an aircar that was trying to bring its forward mounted particle beam to bear.

“And about him not being able to get away?” asked Ekaterina as the image showed the blurred but slightly more noticeable figure, now being hit with massive amounts of active sensors, zooming off.  “We, meaning your security force and Capitulum PD chased him for over five minutes and didn’t come close to catching him.  With the weapon he had, and the position he was in, he could have killed you and your wife, and had a very high probability of getting away.”

“And we still need to find him,” said Sean, looking around the table.  “I’m not about to let an assassin get away with threatening us just because he had an attack of conscience at the last moment.  And he knows who hired him.  Or at least he should.”

“We are doing everything we can to find him, your Majesty,” said Ekaterina.  “But remember, there are three billion people in this city, and almost twenty billion on the planet.  We might be able to stop him from leaving Jewel, though I can’t guarantee that.  But if he lies low, blending into the population, I’m not sure we’ll be able to find him.”

Chapter Twelve

I define a ‘good person’ as somebody who is fully conscious of their own limitations. They know their strengths, but they also know their ‘shadow’ - they know their weaknesses. In other words, they understand that there is no good without bad. Good and evil are really one, but we have broken them up in our consciousness. We polarize them.

John Bradshaw.

CAPITULUM, JEWEL  MAY 19TH, 1002.

Yet another damned meeting, thought Sean, leaning back in his chair.  This, of course, was more important than most, though all were important.  What was so important about this one was that many of the people in the room were not his to command.  They were subjects, true, and they would honor him for his position.  But they were leaders in their own right, and people he had to negotiate with to get what he wanted.

Samantha again sat to his right, and again Jennifer was conspicuous in her absence.  Lord T’lisha and Ekaterina Sergiov were here, in their positions as the leaders of the security and intelligence communities.  Grand High Admiral McCullom was also there in her capacity as the senior officer of the senior service.  As was H’rressitor, the Gryphon Minister of Commerce and Industry.  None of the other Ministers of the Cabinet were present.  They didn’t have the need to know what was going to be discussed here.

On the other side of the table sat the people he had come to convince.   The most important, and the one who probably needed the least convincing, was the Countess Haruko Kawasaki, his Prime Minister, the noble member of Parliament responsible for coordinating the efforts of the three houses.  Sitting beside her sat the only other noble in that group, the Baron Emile von Hausser Schmidt, the Leader of the House of Lords, the senior body of Parliament.  His party was the largest seated in the Lords, hence his position.  Without his input, nothing would pass the Lords.  On other side of the diminutive Countess was Laura Goolsby, a commoner, though wealthier than anyone else in the room other than the Emperor.  She was the Speaker of the Commons for the same reason that Hausser Schmidt was the leader of the Lords.  Her party held the most seats of the dozen or so major cliques in the body.  Her party couldn’t pass a bill on its own, but without it there was little chance of the majority needed to enact a law.  On her other side was Mohamed Ishner, the leader of the House of Scholars, though he was more a facilitator than anything else, since the scholars tended to vote their own minds and consciences and not what the herd wanted.

And unless I can convince them to the point where they can convince their own people, and without the benefit of all of the information we are about to give them here, we’re not going to get a treaty with this new ally, no matter what I want, thought the Emperor.

“Thank you for coming my Lords, Ladies and Citizens,” he told those gathered.  “I am hoping we can work some things out before we are through.”

“Is what we have heard in our briefs true, your Majesty?” asked Goolsby, her eyes narrowing.  “About this other human kingdom, I mean?”

“Yes, we have found them,” said Sean nodding.  “And yes, there are some concerns.  But despite those concerns, I don’t see how we can win this war without an alliance with them.”

“We seem to have been doing pretty well without them up to this point,” said Goolsby.  “After all, we did chase the Cacas damned invasion fleet out of the Empire.  They’re on the run.”

McCullom sat there shaking her head, her eyes closed.

“Well, aren’t they?” asked Goolsby, staring at the Admiral.

“They are very definitely not on the run, Madame Speaker,” said Sean, shaking his head.  “We defeated an augmented conquest fleet, not the Caca battle fleet, which I am sure we will be facing next.”

“And that is something else my constituents will want to know, your Majesty,” said Goolsby, seeming to let his last sentence go right over her head.  “When are you going to strike at their homeworld?  When are we going to get some back for what they did to us?”

Hausser Schmidt stared at the woman like she had lost her mind.  Sean felt the same way, but had enough decorum to keep himself from showing it.  That’s what we’re here for today, he thought, looking over at McCullum.  “You’re up first, Admiral.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” said the highest ranking human in the Fleet.  She closed her eyes for a moment, linking with the local computer, and a holo sprung to life over the table.  “As you may know, the Fleet was in the process of an expansion when the Cacas hit.  That said, it was a slow expansion, all we could do based on the allocations of Parliament.  Normally, what we had would be enough for our needs, but as the Empire was expanding, we could see the need for more assets in the near future.”

The image of a fifteen million ton battleship appeared on the holo, rotating.  “This was the largest standard ship we had up to a couple of years ago, when we started building superbattleships, of which we had a hundred and fifteen.  Still, these ships were the backbone of our battle line.  At the beginning of the war, we had forty-five hundred of these vessels in front line service.  The normal lifespan of a battleship is twenty years.  We upgrade as needed.  Electronics are easy, just a couple of hundred kilos of nanites and the proper programing and we have state of the art tech packages aboard.  Every ten years the ships undergo a six month refit period, which means one fortieth of our ships are not available.  After twenty years, we retire a ship to the mothball fleet, our reserves, where they spend another decade.  Some of the retired vessels are given to our allies, the Margravi Hegemony and the Klashak Concordiam.  We also tend to lose some ships on combat patrols, border clashes, and of course the few that just seem to disappear into nowhere.  If we are involved in a major war that number increases.  To keep up our fleet strength we need about three hundred new battleship commissionings a year, which also allows us some increase to keep up with the normal expansion of the Empire.”

The holo switched to a view of a battle cruiser, an eight million ton heavy scout ship.  “We had almost sixty-three hundred of these at the start of hostilities.  Same lifespan as the battleships.  In fact, all of our classes of ships go through the same stages, though the normal operating losses are heavier for lighter ships, since opportunistic enemies or pirates are more willing to take those on.”  The holo changed again, showing two ships, the cruiser classes of the Empire.  “Ten thousand five hundred heavies and nineteen thousand light cruisers.”  The image switched again.  “Sixty-four thousand destroyers, seventy eight thousand frigates.  And then we have the carriers, a ship class that was not really embraced by many in the Fleet, but still with their own uses.  Five hundred and sixty fleet and a thousand light carriers.”

“An impressive number,” said Hausser Schmidt, nodding.  “What is that?  About a hundred and eighty-four thousand warships.  Plus all the support vessels, assault ships, transports.  So well over two hundred thousand vessels?”

“That seems like an awful lot of ships,” said Goolsby.  Ishner just sat there listening, his mouth closed, his eyes darting from holo to the faces of the people in the chamber.

“And what have been our losses so far, Sondra?” asked Sean, nodding at the Admiral.

“To date we have suffered over thirty-five percent losses across the board,” said McCullom.  “About seventy thousand ships.  Our allies have lost a combined five thousand ships.  The losses were heavier percentage wise among the capital ships, the very vessels we need to successfully prosecute this war.  Right now we’re trying to make up those losses.  Which, I believe minister, is your purview.”  The Admiral nodded toward H’rressitor.

“Thank you, Admiral,” said the Minister in heavily accented but understandable Terranglo.  “While it is not in my mandate to develop the ships we need, and ordering the necessary classes, it is my task to give the fleet what they need.  Unfortunately, they need more than I can give at the moment.  We have the slips and docks, and the necessary factories, to build what the fleet ordered plus a ten percent reserve.  This was all well and good when we were talking about replacing between five and seven percent of the fleet each year.  Now we are faced with replacing that thirty-five percent loss, plus expanding the fleet to an unprecedented degree.  We have doubled our shipbuilding capabilities since the beginning of this war, but ships still take time to build.  A battleship takes a year, cruisers seven months, even a destroyer five months.  And the Fleet is asking, nay demanding, a higher percentage of capital ships, including more superbattleships and the new super heavy battleships.  We hope to be able to double our capacity next year, and again the year after, but to even reach the level of sustainability for projected yearly losses, we’re looking at four to five years.  Significant expansion of the fleet, even longer.”

“And don’t forget, Lords and Ladies, we have another war on the horizon, against the Machines,” said Sean.  “I have no way of knowing what we are facing on that front, but I am sure it will take ships and people to fight it.  Ships and people we won’t have to fight the Cacas.”

“A good point, your Majesty,” said the Minister, giving a human head nod that looked strange with his avian head.  “And ships are not the only things we need.  We need missiles, powered armor, land and air warfare vehicles.  And, most of all, supermetals.”  The holo switched to a view of a small planet that was almost covered in machinery, the manufacturing plant for supermetals, the substances needed for grabbers and other devices.  Most could make out the huge structures of fusion reactors, heat exchangers, particle accelerators, all on a massive scale.  “As we expand our fleet and army, we will need to expand our supermetal production to keep pace.  Which is yet another sap on our manufacturing ability.”

“Thank you, Minister,” said the Emperor, linking into the computer himself.  “And that brings us to an even greater need.  Manpower.”  The holo switched to a view of Peal Island, the home of the Fleet Academy on Jewel.  Not the only one in the Empire, but the largest and most prestigious.  The island was a complex of buildings; classrooms, dorms, gymnasiums, labs, airfields, everything needed to turn civilians into naval officers.

“It hurt to lose all of those ships,” said Sean, looking down at the desk and feeling his eyes tear up slightly.  “It hurts even worse to lose the crew, all of the men of women, humans and others, who died in those battles.  We need people to replace those losses, even though those people are not really replaceable.  But we need spacers, as well as soldiers and Marines.  We are expanding all of our training facilities, and so far have more volunteers that we can handle.  Someday we may need conscription, but this is not the day.  Those people need leaders, and we are expanding the academies, as well as instituting office training programs in colleges and increasing our number of officer candidate programs.  Of course, we are having to rob Peter to pay Paul on this one, as every man or woman we select for officer training is depriving the Fleet and Army of a competent NCO.  And as we train up new officers, we will still have a shortage of senior commanders.  We will have to promote people before their time, sometimes before they are ready, but we really have no choice.  Add to that the problem with getting the training personnel, themselves officers and NCOs, and the services are going to have a severe shortage of leaders.”

Sean chuckled for a moment.  “I was just thinking.  If I hadn’t have become Emperor, I might be a ship’s commander by now.  And I wasn’t really considered command material when I served.”

“You seem to have grown into the job, your Majesty,” said Countess Kawasaki.

“Because I had to,” said Sean.  “Just like these men and woman will have to.  And that is where we sit at the moment.  We have plans to rectify the situation, but it will take time, and we have an enemy who has his own plans.  I’ll let Director Sergiov take over this part of the presentation.”

‘Thank you, your Majesty,” said the woman, a raven haired beauty despite her years.  She stood up, preferring to move while she lectured, closing her eyes for a moment and pulling up a star map of the Milky Way Galaxy.  Everyone could recognize the glowing boundaries of their own Empire, and those around them.  Goolsby gasped as she recognized the blinking dot that signified Sol, the home star they had left, and the enormous boundaries of the Empire it had been within for the last two thousand years.

“We really didn’t have a complete appreciation of the strength and resources of our enemy until recently,” she said, stepping to the side of the holo so she could look at the members of Parliament.  “We have been working on snippets of intelligence, mostly gathered by the Fleet.”  She nodded her head at the CNO.  “The Cacas were very good at purging their computer systems, and the ones we captured have not been very forthcoming.  We knew the Empire we faced was vast, and that it had been in the conquering business for thousands of years.  Now, thanks to a couple of new sources, we have a more complete picture.”

The holo changed to show the image of a large Ca’cadasan male, one whose very gaze exuded authority.  “This is the Great Admiral Miierrowanasa M’tinisasitow, if I’m pronouncing that correctly.  He was the supreme leader of the Caca fleet that entered our space and did so much harm to the Empire.  Our latest estimates are twenty billion civilian casualties.  The son of a bitch is not a bit sorry for what he did.  But he had some concerns of his own people, and told some of our intelligence officers’ stories about the rise of their Empire.  Of course in his stories they are the good guys, only taking on the burden of ruling the Galaxy for our own good.”

There were a couple of laughs around the table.  Sean laughed with them, though he had already heard the tale.  He thought of how many human conquerors through history had said the same thing as they spread death and misery across the Earth.

“This is our other source, and one which is classified at the highest level of Top Secret.”  The image of the big Caca was replaced by one of a much smaller creature, that looked no less dangerous for its smaller size.

“It looks, like a wolf,” said Goolsby, her eyes wide.

“An appropriate connection, ma’am,” said Sergiov.  “Our code words for this particular specimen is Striped Wolf.  She is a Maurid, a species that has been serving the Cacas for over a thousand years as scouts and hunters.  As it turns out, they have been unwilling servants, and have wanted a return to freedom from the day they were subjugated.  She contacted one of my agents, and has been feeding us information about the Cacas ever since.”

“And you trust this creature?” asked Ishner, speaking for the first time.

“So far they have been giving us good information, while returning mostly false to the Cacas.”

“Mostly false?” asked Ishner.

“I’m sure the Speaker of the House of Scholars must realize that a double agent plays a dangerous game,” said Sean, holding up a hand to silence Sergiov, who was about to respond.  “If these agents only give crap for intelligence, always proven wrong, the Cacas will soon realize that something is very wrong.”

“A good point, your Majesty,” said Ishner, nodding.  “Still, a dangerous one.”

“And hopefully more dangerous to the Cacas than to us,” said Sergiov after the Emperor nodded her way.  “There are risks, but then again, there always are, in intelligence gathering, as in war.  But I do believe they are taking an even greater risk in aiding us.  They believe we are their best hope of escaping the yoke of their Caca masters.”

“And are we?” asked the Prime Minister.  “It seems to me they might be backing the wrong horse.”

“Not if it’s the only horse in the race, Haruko,” Sean pointed out.   “Continue, Ekaterina.”

The holo changed again to the map of the Galaxy, zooming in on a large section of both arms.  “According to our new friends, the Cacadasan Empire stretches well over twenty-five thousand light years from end to end along the curve of the arms, and fifteen thousand light years in width.  This is an area of seven hundred and fifty billion cubic light years.  Compare that to the area of our own Empire, which is thirty-two billion cubic light years.  That’s over twenty-three times the area of our Empire, and over eight times the total area of all the powers in this sector.

“Of course, area does not tell the whole tale.  So, here are some figures given to us by our friends.  They estimate that there are about three trillion Ca’cadasans in their Empire.  The good news is that the females, who make up slightly more than half that number, are almost nonsentient.  They provide the children of the species, but contribute little else to their military effort.  The bad news is that almost every male in their Empire is first and foremost a soldier.   The agricultural and manufacturing muscle of their Empire is in their slave holdings, and they need a lot of soldiers to hold them down.”

“How many slaves?” asked Goolsby, who looked like she was going to be ill.  Sean couldn’t blame her.  The first time he had heard this information he had felt lightheaded, as if he couldn’t believe what they were facing.

“About fifteen trillion, from among over three hundred species,” said Sergiov.  “It seems that those who are under the boot heel of the Empire have seemed to prosper, as far as numbers and the expansion of the species beyond their home world.  At the price of their freedom, of course.  In the Ca’cadasan Empire only those of Caca blood are truly free, or as free as one can be in a totalitarian system.  Any Caca can kill any non-Caca with almost impunity.”

“And that brings a bit more good news, people,” said Sean.  “Slaves are not the most motivated of workers.  And the Cacas number not just their laborers among the slave races, but their scientists and engineers as well.  One of the many reasons they are so slow to progress in their tech.  The other being that they have rarely faced anyone their equal.”

“But they still outnumber us in ships, yes?” asked the Prime Minister.  “They’ve got more of them, and they can build more of them too?”

“Our friends estimated that they have a half million ships in their fleet, and, of course, most of them are larger classes than our own,” said McCullom, frowning.  “So we estimate about a seven to one disparity in tonnage.  Probably closer to eight to one.  Our friends weren’t really sure about shipbuilding capabilities, but if it’s less than six to one I will be quite surprised.”

“We are so screwed,” exclaimed von Hausser Schmidt, his eyes widening.

“And now you see why this information must not become general knowledge,” said Sean, looking the Lord in the eyes.  “It would dishearten the public, at a time when we need them to work their hardest, give their best effort, for the common good.”

“It sure makes me feel like giving up,” said von Hausser Schmidt, shaking his head.  “Is there any good news?”

“There is,” said Sean, looking at the Baron.  “I think our people are more competent, our commanders more intelligent, and our tech is advancing at a rate that will surpass theirs in all aspects within the next couple of years.  Our ships are better designed, and more capable of putting all of their firepower onto a single target.  We have wormholes, something they will not be able to duplicate in any numbers, no matter what they do.  Those give us some very definite advantages, and we are discovering more every day.  And we have discovered a species that can communicate instantaneously across all dimensions of space, which will give us even more of an advantage in command and control.  Still, we are outnumbered heavily, and as Joseph Stalin said over two thousand years ago, quantity has a quality all its own.  There is another saying on old Earth, though at the moment I cannot attribute it to anyone.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“And you feel that these xenophobic humans are that friend?” asked the Prime Minister.

“I don’t see how I can sell them to the members of the Lords,” said the Baron.  “Some of my fellows in the Lords might be bastards.  But I doubt any of them are going to want to embrace a genocidal group of xenophobes.”

“That is not known for sure,” said Sergiov, looking at the Baron, then switching her gaze to the Emperor.  “Right now this is all conjecture.  We need more information, which our people on the spot are trying to gather.”

“You have a question, Prime Minister?” asked Sean, seeing the concentration on the face of the Countess.

“Just one, concerning the Cacas.  Why did it take them this long to find us?”

“I think it’s because they didn’t know which direction we headed in,” said Sean.  “According to our Maurid friends, the Cacas have been expanding in more or less a sphere, or an oblong, about three hundred light years a century, making sure that what they had taken was consolidated and secured before moving on.  Until they finally hit space in which we were known.”

“And most of us thought they had given up,” said von Hausser Schmidt, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.  “Or their Empire had fallen.  Because that’s what we wanted to happen.”

“Your species is known for its predilection for wishful thinking,” rumbled T’lisha.  “Sometimes it’s a strength, but often a weakness.  It allows you to tackle problems that most other species would find too daunting for words.  But it also results in your ignoring problems until they, what is the term, bite you in the ass.”

“And what do we do if Parliament will not approve an alliance?” asked the Prime Minister.  “Go ahead and form a compact anyway, through Imperial Edict?”

“If I have to,” said Sean, looking her in the eye in unflinching determination.  “Right now we are two powerful nations swinging individually at a giant.  If we could coordinate, strike in unison when the time is right, we might be able to bring the giant to his knees, for a time.  And time is what we need.  With time we can field a fleet that is more massive than ever before and advanced beyond anything seen since the days of the Ancients.  Without time, we will soon be looking for someplace to run and hide.”

“I can try to make that point to my fellows,” said von Hausser Schmidt, looking over at the leaders of the other houses.  “And I’m sure my compatriots who lead the Commons and the Scholars will do the same.  Whether they will listen or not, especially without all of the facts, which I’m sure you will not want told outside of committees, is another matter altogether.  If you do find out they are a bunch of genocidal maniacs, many will dig in their feet and refuse to treat with them.”

“Then I will be exercising my right of Imperial Edict,” said Sean, glaring at the man.  “As is my prerogative in wartime.”

“And then some of the arrogant bastards will dig in their heels even deeper,” said the Prime Minister with a grimace.

“And what if we arrange for some changes to be made in the leadership of our hopeful allies,” said Sean, looking over at Ekaterina and Lord T’lisha.

“What kind of changes” asked Ishner suspiciously.

“I’m not sure, yet,” said Sean.  “We need more information.  But if we could engineer a change in ownership, might that not satisfy the members of Parliament?”

Chapter Thirteen

If any foreign minister begins to defend to the death a ‘peace conference’, you can be sure his government has already placed its orders for new battleships and airplanes.

Joseph Stalin.

KLAVARTA SPACE  MAY 20TH, 1002.

“I think they know we are here, my Lord,” said the Chief of the Staff from his chair behind the Great Admiral.

Great Admiral the Superior Lord Jarrashinata Karzott grunted in reply as he looked at the tactical holo.  His own great fleet was spread out over almost a cubic light year as they moved into the space of the Klavarta.  Of the damned humans, he thought, glaring at that plot, then looking over at another holo that showed a larger map of the space they were in, their target more than a twelve hundred light years ahead.  They were in VII, traveling at point nine five light, about twelve days travel time including deceleration to the newly found capital system of the enemy.  They had been in this space for three days.  Of course, with relativity, much less time had passed aboard the ship.  More like a day of ship time.

Of course the enemy had their small ships all over this space, making it impossible to sneak in.  The plan was to simply rush in with the huge fleet and not give the enemy time to concentrate anything on them.  They would only have to deal with whatever small forces could be thrown at them, which could not possibly defeat his fleet.  The way out could be another matter altogether, but he thought he would take care of that when the time came.  Right now, the priority was to hit the enemy capital and leave it a ruin.

“Another force coming up on the port side,” called out the Tactical Officer, as a dozen icons appeared on the plot.  They were not up to the velocity of the fleet as of yet, but with their acceleration, over eight hundred gravities, they would be able to intercept in another hour.

They must be all grabber units, inertial compensators, and electromag screens, thought the Great Admiral as he looked at a schematic of the ships the Klavarta were using to attack.  They were in the twelve thousand ton range, pygmies compared to his smallest warships, not even as big as his couriers.  As far as they could tell from the group they had run over on the way in, they carried six missiles, a forward mounted particle beam weapon, and a quartet of laser domes.  Not that heavily armed for a warship, though with massive armaments for something its size.

What they had was acceleration and terminal velocity.  His ships could at most pull five hundred and thirty gravities.  He had fighters aboard all of his ships that could make over a thousand gees, but they were useless in hyper.  And point nine five light was his terminal velocity, unless he wanted to run the risk of all of his males contracting radiation sickness.  The enemy vessels were said to be able to reach point nine eight, which seemed impossible on the face of it.  Even an electromag field ten times the strength of that his vessels deployed would be leaking high energy particles like a sieve.

“Are they suicide fighters?” asked his Chief of Staff, staring at the holo and obviously having the same train of thought as his master.

“It seems that they are,” said the Great Admiral, looking at the craft that were on approach.  There was no way they could survive contact with his fleet.  If they were lucky they might get in a couple of licks before they were converted to vapor.

“Order the fleet to close up,” he told the Com Officer.  “I want us to be in the optimal formation to destroy them before they penetrate the fleet.”

The Com Officer acknowledged, and the grav pulse code was sent out ordering all ships to shift inward just a bit.  I should have thought of that before.  It wasn’t like our formation was really doing anything positive.  It was standard procedure with as many ships as they did to have a minimum spread between the vessels.  They were rare, but accidents did happen.  With attack imminent, preventing accidents was no longer the priority.

“We have translations ahead, my Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer, his voice almost panicked.

Eight more icons appeared on the plot, two hyper VII light minutes ahead.  They had translated through at point four light,  point one light above the maximum jump velocity of the Caca ships.  Even with their acceleration they would not get up to too much higher a velocity before they made contact.  But with the velocity of the fleet they were actually approaching each other at near light speed.  That in and of itself was counterintuitive, as the velocities added together would be much more that light speed.  Due to the dilation of time and space though, that result was impossible.  Still, the part that made sense was that two objects impacting on that approach would release enough energy to totally destroy both of them.

“Have our lead scouts fire a volley of missiles at them,” ordered the Great Admiral.  The best strategy was to blast them out of space at enough distance where catastrophic translation would remove all of their matter from hyper, and with it the threat to navigation that somewhat larger pieces would become.

An instant later a hundred green vector arrows appeared on the plot, forging ahead and maximum acceleration.  That acceleration was much less than at lower velocities, since each missile massed almost four times what it did at rest.  Still, they forged ahead of the fleet at two thousand gravities, heading for the best intercept they could generate.

At a distance of one hyper light minute, the distance light traveled in the dimension they were in, and not the comparable massively shorter distance in normal space, the missiles reached their target zone.  The attacking ships went into their evasive maneuvers, making them as difficult of targets as possible.  There were still two hits, two of the small attacking ships blasted into plasma by warheads that were made to do the same to multi-megaton warships.  Other warheads got proximity kills, three of them, as they detonated close enough to fill the space ahead of the target with a concentration of plasma.  The clouds only existed in hyper for a second, but that was long enough to form a barrier that the attacking ships were forced through.  It was enough to blast them out of hyper as well.

Three ships came on, launching their own missiles, and boring in after them.  Counters and lasers engaged, and two more of the small vessels erupted into blasts that scattered their matter before it glowed and faded out.  Of the eighteen incoming missiles, four made it through, almost statistically impossible against the defenses they were facing.  Three detonated on close approach, causing some superficial damage to two of the Ca’cadasan scout ships.  One hit a third scout dead center, shattering the vessel, sending its remaining pieces into a catastrophic translation.

And then the remaining ship came in, straight for another of the scouts.  It deviated a bit from a straight approach to get through the defenses, then straightened out at the last second and plunged directly through the bow the scout.  Both ships disappeared into a flare of eye hurting brilliance and were gone in an instant.

“They are suicide attack ships,” said the Chief of Staff, giving a head motion of disbelief.  “Unless they are robotic attack craft.”

The Great Admiral knew they were not.  Unless they were simple minded computers, and not artificial intelligence, which they were not acting like.  The Ca’cadasans, like most advanced species that had tampered with AI, had found out that giving machines any kind of truly intelligent control was a bad idea.  “No, those were manned by the Klavarta slaves of the humans.”

The Chief of Staff gave him a disbelieving look.  Ca’cadasans were trained to be obedient, to follow orders without question, even at the risk of their lives.  However, they would not willingly go to their deaths without trying to accomplish their mission without giving their lives.  But these creatures the humans had enslaved would attack with the intent of suiciding.  In fact, they were reaching velocities that more or less ensured their deaths from radiation poisoning.

“Launch on those other attack craft,” ordered the Great Admiral, pointing at ships that were still on their interception course.  “The sooner we can take them out, the better.  I would prefer to have them gone before they, by chance, hit some more of my ships.”

None of those ships made it into attack range.  But the Ca’cadasan fleet had used over a hundred missiles to take out a dozen small ships.  At this point, they would destroy a fifth of their own tonnage while emptying their magazines and the reloads on the colliers along with them.

Minutes later the grav waves from the grabbers of two more small attack forces hit the sensors of the fleet.  Moments after they appeared on the tactical plot, two more insect stings on the way.

*     *     *

NEW EARTH.

“They are different from our own Pures,” said Slardra, looking into the faces of all the other Alphas gathered in the chamber.  There were over a hundred of the beings, all in command positions.  All cleared by the Revolutionary Committee.

“But they are still Pures,” said Admiral Manstara, the commander of the Home Fleet, at least in an operational sense.  He spit out the word, Pures, as if it was an obscenity.  Which, to these Alphas, it was.

Most of the subspecies of Klavarta were fine with the concept that the Pures were to be served, to follow orders no matter what.  But most of the other subspecies weren’t as deep of thinkers as the Alphas, who had been created to pilot and command the most advanced ships the kingdom could produce.  They were almost as intelligent as the Pures, in some cases even more so.

“These, humans, are different in the way they interact with other species,” said Slardra, looking at the Admiral.  “They actually coexist with other species, and don’t go out of their way to exterminate them.”

The chamber erupted with shouts, arguments, Alphas murmuring to each other.  The Alpha in charge clapped his hands together and shouted out, trying to restore order.

“And these are not servants these humans have built to fight for them, like us?” asked one of the Alphas seated near the front.

“They are genuine aliens,” said Slardra, shaking her head.  “The, dracocentaur, I think they call it, is like nothing I have ever seen, or found mention of in the databanks.  The avian is like some we have seen before, though not exactly.  The one thing I can say for sure is that they are not human.”

“So these humans actually allow the aliens in their Empire?” said another of the attendees.

“More than that, they have made them full citizens of their Empire, with all the rights and privileges of their humans.”

“How can their leadership be so different from our own leaders?” asked the Admiral.  “Did you learn anything about their leaders?”

“They were very open about their leaders, about their hierarchy, even about the other powers in their region.”

“And they are at peace with all of their neighbors?  Or have them in their alliance?”

“They are at peace with some, and at war with some others.  Two of the great powers have joined the two human kingdoms in the region in their war against the Monsters, while one neighbor is on the side of the Ca’cadasans.  And one seems to be just crazy as hell, and keeps attacking the larger human power over and over.”

“And they do not destroy these aliens?” asked the Admiral, shaking his head.  There were numerous head shakes in the chamber, many of the gathered not sure whether they believed it as well.

“They war with them, they take territory and punish them for their incursions.  But though they are capable of totally destroying them, they do not.”

“Would that our leaders had such compassion,” said someone in the assembly.

True, thought Slardra, nodding.  Their leaders seemed to take cruelty to new levels every time their servants thought they had seen it all.

“And their rulers?  Are they immortal, like ours?”

Of course their rulers weren’t really immortal.  They aged, and the bodies their consciousnesses rode in eventually grew old and died, while a much younger version of them took its place.  They knew it was cloning, something that the servant subspecies, and even the great majority of the Pure humans, were not allowed to avail themselves of.  Every being in the Empire, save the several hundred chosen, aged and died in a normal manner, and were only allowed to reproduce more of their own in the old manner.

“I looked over the records while on their ship, the ones they allowed me to peruse.  And they have had many leaders through the thousand years of their Empire.  More than twenty of them.  Some have ruled for almost a century, most for much shorter periods of time.  They can live for up to three centuries, but most do not ascend to leadership until they are in the late stages of life.”

“So they don’t clone?” asked the Admiral, a confused expression on his face.  “Why would they not avail themselves of functional immortality if they could?”

“And why wouldn’t the Masters allow the other Pures to extend their lives the same way?” replied Slardra with a question in return.  “All I can tell you is that the Commodore and her people seemed somewhat disturbed by the idea of the immortality of our leaders.  I get the impression that cloning is a forbidden technology in their Empire, at least the growing of complete organisms, though I did find that they force grew parts to replace those lost in accidents, or battles.  But the cloning of a complete being, followed by the transfer of consciousness, is forbidden for some reason.”

“Something we need to find out more about,” said the Admiral.  “There is a great deal about these humans I would know.  But carefully.  We must not alert the Overlords as to our curiosity, lest they figure out what we are about.”

And that would mean death to us all, thought the Pilot/Commander.  The Masters would not stand for what they planned.

“I would love to be able to have congress with other intelligent beings,” said Slardra in a quiet voice.  “To exchange ideas, and not missiles.”  She looked over at the Admiral.  “But we are pariahs in this sector.  None of the other species want anything to do with us.”

And that was the truth.  There were no other alien species within the borders of the kingdom.  Those with interstellar travel had been able to flee before the humans could kill them all.  Those who were trapped on their worlds had been destroyed at the orders of the Overlords.  It had all happened before the time of any of those now present, but there had been hidden records passed down that showed how the Klavarta servants had felt about it.  Since they were conditioned to obedience, even the more free thinking Alphas, they had obeyed the orders.  But the leaders of the Pilots had, even then, felt conflicted about their task.  They had no choice, but they felt like murderers as they wiped out entire species.

The leaders had said it was necessary, due to the need to maintain complete secrecy within this space.  The Monsters could not know that they were facing humans, at least until the humans were ready for them.  There had been some more advanced species in the sector, ones that would surely have sided with the humans against the Ca’cadasan conquerors.  Now they saw the humans, or at least the Klavarta they had made contact with, as monsters, and no ship of theirs dared enter the space of any other power without being fired upon.  And they already had all they could handle fighting the Ca’cadasans.

We made ourselves monsters.  Or the Overlords made monsters of us.  But our ancestors cooperated in that creation.

*     *     *

“I did not like the way their Chairwoman was looking at me through the meeting,” rumbled Platoon Sergeant Tia’lash, his huge body shivering a moment.  “If not for your presence, ma’am, I think I might not have come back from her lair.”

“I doubt if anything would have happened to you, Sergeant,” said Sung, shaking her head.  “They probably see us as a way to successfully prosecute their war, since no one else in this region will have anything to do with them.”  Or at least that’s our assumption.  The Klavarta said there were no aliens in their Empire, and we sure haven’t seen any.

“Ma’am,” came a call over the intercom.  “Exec here.  We’ve been given permission to send crew down for shore leave.  With very strict limitations.  Humans only.  It’s my recommendation that we tell them thanks, but no thanks.”

“And normally I would agree with you, Exec,” said Sung, looking at her two non-human crew members who had been with her on the away mission.  “I don’t like the idea of dealing with xenophobes any more than you do, but I doubt our non-humans would really feel comfortable down there either.”

The Gryphon and the Phlistaran both gave human head shakes.  Neither of those crew wanted to put their lives on the line by moving about on the surface of a world of people who hated them just because they were different.

“The fact is, we are here to gather information.  We want as much information about these people as we can gather, and they want to prevent that.  So yes, we will put as many of our people on the surface as we can to snoop.”

“You know they will be trying to gather information from our people as well,” said Laaksonen.  “And we can’t risk any kind of transmissions between our people on the moon and the ships.  They’re sure to intercept them, sure to eventually break our encryption.”

“Then all transmissions will be in the clear, with innocuous phrase words to send information.  And we will make sure that all of our people remain in groups of ten or more.  I know it’s still a risk, but it’s one we have to take.”

“Agreed,” said the Exec.  “I would like to lead one of the teams down myself.”

Sung thought about that for a moment.  Her Exec knew more about the Fleet and its tech than most of the crew, but not more than many of the engineering personnel she intended to send down.  And everyone knew of the existence of the wormholes that were their most closely guarded secret.

“Before anyone goes down I want deep conditioning,” said Sung, an order she really didn’t want to give, but one that she thought necessary at this time.  “I want all of them to be under compulsion to not reveal anything about our wormhole tech.”

“They’re going to find out eventually,” said Laaksonen.

“But they don’t have to know about it at the moment,” said Sung.  “Instantaneous communications with base is our ace in the hole.”  She looked her Exec in the eyes over the holo that had just sprung into existence over the table.  “I hate to ask this, Gauroi, but if you go down there, you will have to be under compulsion as well.  If you don’t want to volunteer for the procedure, you’ll just have to stay up here with the rest of us.”

And I should have had it done to myself and the others before we went down there, she thought.  Hindsight.  At least it didn’t bite us in the ass.

Laaksonen still hadn’t said anything in agreement, and she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had refused that condition.  The Empire was a free society, and privacy of mind and body was one of the cornerstones of that freedom.  Which was why she would only ask for volunteers for this kind of mission.

“I’ll do it,” said the Exec, clenching a fist.  “I hate to do it, but I understand, and agree, with your reasoning, Ma’am.  And I truly want to get down there to observe with my own eyes.”

*     *     *

This is what I have been waiting for, thought the Yugalyth known as Lt. Lila Abernathy.  The compulsion program is a risk.  Not that it will work on me, but there is the risk I will be discovered.

The creature thought about it a moment.  If she were discovered, that would be the end of her mission.  The humans would destroy her.  But the only thing she could do to forward the mission would be to replicate her kind among the people of this moon.  The problem was that replicating another creature to perfection took days, and that couldn’t be done aboard the ship, since anyone missing their shift would send up alarms, and a search.  But if she could get someone on the moon, someone who might not be missed for several days because they were on their off time, she could start a colony of her kind among the humans and their genenged servants.

The Yugalyth activated the com, putting in her volunteer request for shore leave.  Minutes later it came back, with instructions to report to compulsion programming within the hour.  With that done, she lay back on her bed and went into a meditative state, calming her mind and changing her brain waves so that she could simulate a human to the best of her ability.  As she meditated, she had a smile on her face.  Her kind lived for the mission, and now she was about to fulfill at least some of her mission parameters.

Chapter Fourteen

It has yet to be proven that intelligence has any survival value.

Arthur C. Clarke.

NEW MOSCOW  MAY 20TH, 1002.

“Well, that wasn’t very bright of them,” said Cornelius under his breath, watching as the hyper velocity missile struck the huge airship amidships.  He hadn’t actually seen the missile in flight.  It traveled much too fast to pick up, much like an ultrafast bullet out of a magrail rifle.  What he had seen was a flash from the ground a dozen kilometers ahead, and the explosion as the projectile hit the thin skin of the kilometer long aerial vessel.

They had been hunting this particular group of Cacas for a couple of days, and he had thought they had them on several occasions.  But each time they had lost the trail.  One or more of the couple score Cacas in the group knew something about woodcraft, and had found ways to throw the pursuit off.  In fact, he had been just about to call off this hunt when the enemy had struck at a target that could do them no harm.

“Bloody stupid buggers,” said Staff Sergeant Mika Jefferson, watching as the airship started to fold up on itself, the crew bailing out with float harnesses.  He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling, then opened them and looked over at Walborski.  “Our girls and boys have located them.  They followed the crack of the missile until they picked up the scent, and are currently working on encircling the Cacas.”

Walborski nodded as he watched the airship fall to the ground, picking up speed as it lost lift.  It wasn’t strictly a military vessel.  Instead, it was a planetary recovery platform, brought here with a hundred of its sisters to fly about, sifting through the atmosphere, vacuuming up kilotons of dust and particulate matter on each mission before returning to base to unload.  New Moscow was bound for an impact winter due to the amount of material suspended in the atmosphere.  Lifeforms in the arctic and subarctic would weather it with little problem, and with some help so would the creatures in the temperate regions.  Many of the animals and plants in the tropics and subtropics would not do so well, and most would probably die as snow began to fall in their habitats.  There really was no way to stop this climactic progression, but with enough work they could reduce both the intensity and the duration of the winter.

“Isn’t bad enough that the damned bastards had to damage the entire planet,” said Sergeant Timothy Slater, one of Cornelius’ Rangers.  “Now they have to interfere with our attempts to fix their shit.”

Cornelius nodded, not wanting to correct the NCO.  The Cacas had, of course, heavily damaged the ecosystem when they invaded in the face of human resistance.  Then the Imperials and the Cacas had added to the damage in the last round.  It couldn’t be helped, not if the Empire had wanted to prevent the deaths of almost a billion people.

“Let’s get moving,” said Walborski, motioning the direction to the Cacas, down off the hill they were on and through the jungle.  That jungle was still dangerous, but the Captain thought he was getting the hang of it, almost like he had Sestius and Azure, though not quite the level of New Detroit.  I need to stop thinking like that, thought the Ranger officer as he followed his point man through the heavy brush, ears alert for any sound that might alert him to predators.  As soon as we become complacent, something big and nasty is going to come out of the jungle and bite us in the ass.

“And remember,” he said quietly over the com link.  “The General wants some more prisoners.”

“I wonder what the hell they need living bastards for?” asked one of the men.  “I would think they would be just as happy to just have their heads.”

There was some of the snorting of barely squelched laughter.  Of course they didn’t take the heads of the Cacas.  Vids were enough to verify the body count.

“High command wants them for something,” said Cornelius as he dodged through the brush on the game path they were traversing.  Said game had to be very large, but the jungle was fierce in its attempts to reconquer such walkways.  “Now everyone hold it down.   Don’t want the damned Cacas knowing that we’re on the way, so act like Rangers.”

The small column went silent, the two dozen men going into stealth mode, alert to everything them while digesting their own thoughts on the way.  Cornelius didn’t know why they were supposed to get prisoners, and exceedingly difficult task when dealing with Cacas.  He trusted General Baggett, but wasn’t sure if the man knew himself.  Of course I don’t have a need to know that, thought the Captain, turning as he heard something rustling in the brush to his right.  He turned that way, rifle at the ready, and huffed out a breath as what had to be a small herbivore ran into, then out of sight.

It took most of an hour to make it to the spot where they thought the Cacas were holed up.  The superjags were still watching, using their natural abilities and their genetically engineered cammo to blend in.  As far as the Cacas were concerned, if they did glimpse them, they were just some more of the exotic animal life of the planet.  The cats were too smart to try and take the heavily armed group of aliens on by themselves, and were waiting patiently for the humans to come.

When Cornelius first saw the area that the Cacas were in he again had to wonder why they had given themselves away.  None of the aliens were in sight, but there were the dark openings of several caves at the base of a rocky hill.

Shit, thought Walborski, zooming in on those openings with his augmented eyes.  “That’s where they’ve got to be.”

“The cats say that the big aliens are definitely in those caves,” agreed Sergeant Jefferson.  “They also report that most of the aliens had helmets, and that they have some stationed watching from the darkness of the caverns.”

“Wonderful.  So they’re probably protected from any gas we might send in there.  And we won’t stand a chance trying to storm those caves.”

“What do you want us to do, sir?” asked Fujardo.

“Get the men under cover and set up to take every one of those openings under fire if they try to come out.”

“And if there’s another way out?”

“Send a couple of your cats out looking for other openings,” he ordered Jefferson.  “And get Langston over here with his micro-drones.  We’ll let them sweep the area looking for CO2 emissions, or any other signs of caverns.”

“And if we don’t find any?” asked the First Sergeant.

“Then we’re in for a wait, or we need to bring in reinforcements,” said Walborski, closing his eyes and establishing a com link.  Which I might as well get moving our way.  I’m sorry, but when it comes to taking care of these bastards, I’m not as patient as the cats.

*     *     *

JEWEL.

“Our employer wants to know when she can expect you to make another try,” said the distorted voice on the message disc that Angel held in his hand.  Of course the voice was distorted.  The people who sent it didn’t want anyone recognizing them.  He was surprised they had even used a gender specific tag like her.  He had also been surprised that they had left the disc at one of the specified drops.  And he had been surprised that he had even made the attempt to retrieve it, and not just because it might put him at risk in the manhunt that was going on in the capital city.

“In fact,” continued the voice, “she is really angry that you did not complete the mission while you had the chance.  We have seen the footage of the incident, and everyone agrees that you had plenty of time to take the shot.  So why didn’t you?   Just have to say that we paid you enough in advance to do the job, and we expect the job done, or a refund.”

Like that’s going to happen, thought Angel with a scowl on his face.  There was no way he was going to have any more contact with these people.  As far as he was concerned, the most rational thing he could do would be to retire, and get his ass off this planet.  He had made enough money to last him a lifetime.  There were several frontier worlds that he was considering, where he could open an establishment, be a big man, and drop off the sensors.  The risk of a frontier world at this time was that they were not given the same kind of protection as one of the more important planets, and with the Cacas at the gates, living on such a world could be courting death.  Except his target worlds were in Sector I, that furthest from the Ca’cadasan Empire, and someplace they were unlikely to get to unless they ran over the Core Worlds.

The other risk was that even making himself a big man on a small world might attract too much attention.  It might be better to move to another world and just lay low for two decades or so.  For a normal man that would be a sound strategy.  For one who had sacrificed almost five decades of life in order to become augmented, and then lived over half of his remaining life?  Well, it didn’t sound quite so enticing.

Warning, came the silent mental voice of his high level implant.  Signal emanating from the message disc.

Shit, thought Angel, a response the implant really couldn’t answer.  He took the small disc and touched a stud on the table.  An opening appeared in the top and Angel tossed the disc inside, then touched the stud again.  The opening iris closed, leaving no trace of the closure.  Almost instantaneously the lasers in the disposal compartment converted the disc to vapor, which was whisked away, leaving no trace of the device in the apartment.

Time to leave, thought the Assassin, sending a signal through his plant that opened a hidden door in the wall, where he kept the tools of his trade out of sight.  Not all of those tools, but enough to accomplish the mission he was here for, the one that he had no intent of completing.  His suit opened as he approached, and he backed in with a practiced motion, letting the physical connections click into place.  He suit closed around him and sealed, and he pulled a short barreled particle beam rifle from its mount.  The long barreled sniper rifle he had carried to his proposed attempt to kill the ruler of the Empire was no more.  He had disposed of it in a nano-disassembler chamber, not willing to keep such damnable evidence around.

Uh oh, he thought as his HUD came up right after the helmet closed around his head.  There were the blips of powered equipment all around him.  In the hallway outside the apartment.  In the air outside the outer wall.  He could tell from the signal that the equipment, which he took to be powered armor suits, was fully stealthed, but not well enough to escape the sensor net he had deployed throughout the building.  He was sure they were not police or military suits.  If they had been, he would have still tried to escape, but he would have been reluctant to kill.  Both because of the trouble it would have caused him, and how it would have gone against his own moral code.  He went out of his way to not kill the poor Joes who were doing their job working for the good of the people.  He only killed those who he felt needed killing.

So why the hell did I take the job to kill the Emperor? he thought as he converted his suit to its ultimate stealth configuration, making it take on the appearance of normal clothing as his helmet retracted.  He quickly activated the contact lenses in his eyes which gave him the full HUD display, linked to his suit.  Ego, was the only thing he could think.  I was still pissed off at the Imperial authority, of which the Emperor is the prime symbol.  And it would have put me in the history books.  That last, now that he thought about it, had to be the stupidest reason he had ever come up with.

If I had killed that young man, I wouldn’t have just committed the greatest act of evil any one person could have in time of war, but the authorities would have never let up the pressure.

Angel had figured out his strategy for escape by this time.  He didn’t think going out the window was the best plan.  Moments after he had exited they would not be able to find him, but he was sure he would be at the intersection of several beam weapons as soon as he made an appearance.  And since he hadn’t installed another means of egress other than the main entrance, a shortfall he was now regretting, that only left the door to the hall.

Might as well wait and see what they want, he thought with a cruel smile on his face, his eyes set on the door, which had a more complicated locking system than they would have believed.  First, he raised his helmet and engaged the invisibility field of his suit.  A pair of probes shot from the back and impacted the wall, digging in and contacting the cooling duct he had known was there.  Now ninety-five percent of his generated heat was being shuffled into the duct.  As long as he made sure the intruders didn’t get a good look at those wires or the back of his suit, there was a very good chance they would not detect him on infrared either.

With a thought through his implant he disengaged the higher functions of the lock, turning the mechanism into a normal lock of Imperial tech level, such as would be found on any ordinary apartment.  Moments later the door buzzed open, and a man with a large particle beam rifle rushed in, followed by three others with what appeared to be magrail pistols.

“Fan out and check the apartment,” said one of the men, waving a pistol that was almost the size of a carbine.  “Franz, you stay by the door.  I want your firepower close in case he tries something stupid.”

Angel didn’t know these people, but he was sure they were not police or Imperial military.  The low grade armor they were carrying, along with the weapons, screamed hood in his mind.  Not common criminals, no, more like mob hitmen.  And he was pretty sure they had not come here to talk to him about completing his mission.  Someone wanted him gone, and they thought this was sufficient force to do the job.  More fools they.

Two of the men walked past in crouches, weapons at the ready, both going into the hallway that led to the single bedroom and bathroom.  The leader moved toward the kitchen, while the man with the particle beam pushed the door closed and put his back against it.  That man was the greatest threat, with a weapon that could burn through Angel’s armor in a moment.  Not meaning that he wanted to be hit by the magrail weapons, which could, with luck, still put a projectile into his body.

“He’s not here,” yelled one of the men from the hallway, followed by the same from the other thug.

“He’s got to be here,” called back the leader.  “We have vid of him coming into the building, and nothing on sensors of him leaving.”

The man closed his eyes, the sign of a link, and shook his head a moment later.  “The boys outside didn’t see him leave, even in that fancy stealth package of his.”

That’s because I didn’t fly out of here, you moron, thought Angel.  Even with a low heat signature, his grabbers would still give off enough heat to be picked up at close range.  Standing here he didn’t have that problem, with only his body heat and the invisibility field to deal with, and a convenient heat sink behind him.

Taking a quiet step to the rear he put his own back against the wall, his eyes locked on the mobster by the door.  With a thought he powered up his own particle beam, hoping that the man with the similar weapon didn’t notice the vibration or heat signature of the rifle as it spun its proton pack up.  The noise was not much, not with the other men stomping around the apartment, and he doubted the other man heard it, even if he was listening with his suit pickups.  The heat would be another matter.

“The Countess isn’t going to like this,” said one of the men from down the hall.

“You dolt,” hissed the leader.  “You know better that to use her name.”

“And that’s all I need to know,” said Angel as he pulled the trigger on his rifle, sending an angry red beam that filled the room with the vibrations of a thousand angry insects.  The beam seemed to instantaneously link the barrel of his rifle with the torso of the thug.  The vapor from the suit spewed into the air, followed a microsecond later by the reddish mist of a vaporizing human chest region.

The gunman was dead in an instant, the heat from the blast rising up through his body to fry his brain before he even realized what had happened.  The particle beam fell with a clatter to the ground, followed by the body.

“He’s in here,” yelled out the leader, firing some shots from his magrail on random vectors.  One round cracked by Angel’s head, and he quickly brought his rifle up to his shoulder and snapped off a quick burst.  He wanted this one alive, for the moment, and hit the gun hand with pinpoint accuracy, vaporizing the pistol and the hand up to mere centimeters below the elbow.  The leader screamed out in agony and dropped to his knees.

There was no guarantee that the leader would survive his wound, though the suit he was wearing would help with survival.

The other two men came running from the hall yelling, waving their weapons, but otherwise in an uncoordinated a fashion as they could, both coming on with no cover or concealment.  A quick burst of protons and both of those men would trouble him no more.

“If you want to live, tell me,” he said to the leader, looking down at him, “who sent you after me?”

“I, don’t know,” groaned the man, grimacing in pain.  “You took off my hand, you son of a bitch.”

“You can grow back a hand.  If you don’t answer me with something I want to know, you’ll get to see if you can grow a new head.”

The man closed his eyes for a moment.  They sprung open in wide alarm.

“All of your coms are being blocked,” said Angel, looking down on the man like he was some kind of slug smashed onto the floor.  “That’s what you get for using such outdated electronics.  Next time, you might want to invest in some upgrades before you try to take on someone like myself.  Now answer my question.”

“All I know is that she’s called the Countess,” said the man through agony gritted teeth.  “I don’t know what she’s the countess of, only that she’s some big shot in the government.  And that she paid the boss well for his services.”

“To come and kill me,” said Angel, glaring down at the man, his hands tight on his weapon.

The man cringed, closing his eyes, sure that he was dead.  Angel was tempted, but the man had told him what he knew, and he had promised him his life

“If I ever see you again, you’re dead,” said Angel, starting to turn on his heel, stopping in mid-motion.  “Remember the pain you are in.  I will make sure that when you die this will pale in comparison.”

The hallway was clear, which surprised the Assassin.  He would have stationed some men outside the apartment to catch the target if it tried to escape.  Which meant they didn’t have a lot of manpower along.  He knew they had people outside, but if he had to bet, they would be stationed near his apartment, on the hundredth floor of the two hundred story building.  There wouldn’t be any near the top.  He would take that bet.  And if he lost it, he thought he could still fight his way through two or three people equipped with what they had.

His next hideout was already chosen by the time he had reached the rooftop of the building.  It would only be a temporary refuge, of course.  He had a com to make, and even with his tech he would trust the people he was going to contact to be able to track him down, in time.

*     *     *

“We have received a message from the assassin, your Majesty,” reported Director Ekaterina Sergiov, her serious face looking out from the holo.

“Were you able to locate him from his com?” asked Sean.  The IIA had the best in cutting edge com tech, including the ability to track signals through numerous cutouts.  Of course, this guy has tech beyond what we’re used to dealing with, probably as good as anything we have in R and D.  How he had that tech was a question in and of itself.

“We did, your majesty, but he was already gone by that time,” said the Director.  “But our electronic intelligence experts think that the only reason we found the point of origin of his transmission was because he wanted us to find it, and quickly.  He only went through a score of cutouts, when he was capable of sending the signal through thousands.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because he left some information that verified he was who he said he was, where we could find it.  Then took off to another hideout.”

“So you were able to verify that this was in fact the man we are after?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” said Sergiov with a grimace.  “It definitely was our man, though he didn’t admit to being Sergio Martinez.  And he promised to not make another attempt.”

“And you believe him?”

“I tend to believe him, since he didn’t have to contact us at all,” said Sergiov.  “Does that mean I think we should stop looking for him, or take the chance that there will be no more attempts on yours or the Empress’ lives?  No.  We will continue the manhunt, and I promise that if it is humanly possible, we will apprehend him.”

“And why did he contact you, Director?  Just to promise that he would be a good boy from now on?”

“No, your Majesty.  To give us information about the person who employed him.  Someone he called the Countess.  And that, according to our boy, is basically all that he knows.”

“The Countess,” said Sean, his mind immediately going to the one person with that title he knew meant him harm.

“That title fits almost ten thousand people in the Empire, your Majesty,” cautioned Sergiov.  “We can’t jump to conclusions here.”

“No,” said Sean, nodding.  “What we can do is put some of your best people on Zhee, and make sure that she isn’t the person we are looking for.  I will contact the Chief Justice and get a surveillance warrant of her office and house.”

Sean thought about it for a moment.  It was horrible that a member of his government, even if they were a member of the opposition party of Parliament, would resort to assassination to gain position.  And to do what?  Raise another puppet to the throne that they could control.  Even in time of peace that was considered high treason.  In time of war, such as now, it rose to another level entirely.

“Get your people in place, and have them set surveillance, at my order.  I will see to it that we have the legal decrees in place before you start your surveillance.”

Chapter Fifteen

What connects two thousand years of genocide? Too much power in too few hands.

Simon Wiesenthal.

NEW EARTH MAY 20TH, 1002.

The capital city was on the smallish side to those who were used to Capitulum.  There were said to be over six billion beings on this moon, so it was expected that the capital, which was normally the largest city on any world, would be of at least a hundred million people.  Instead, it was a sprawling complex of parks and low buildings which could accommodate a little over ten million at most.  And there were very few of the Klavarta, the engineered humans, among the inhabitants.

“And I’m betting that large metropolis to the north is the home of almost exclusively Klavarta,” said Commander Gauroi Laaksonen, the leader of this grouping of twenty crew who were availing themselves to the hospitality of the city, while hopefully gathering some intelligence.

“That thing could house what, a couple of hundred million?” asked Major Briggs, who was also along with this party.  “And almost none of the subspecies in this city, with the exception of those Police.”

Laaksonen grunted as he looked over at a couple of warrior subspecies of the Klavarta.  They were dressed in black uniforms, with truncheons and stunners on their belts.  They seemed to be everywhere, in pairs or greater.  Wherever the Imperials turned.  Or they were shadowing the Imperials, so that it only appeared that they were everywhere?  No, thought the Executive Officer of the Nina as he looked over at a rooftop garden a couple of hundred meters away, where a number of Pure humans were lounging, and a pair of the Klavarta policemen stood watch.  It’s like they’re afraid of their own creations, and have a special force of them to protect them from the creatures whom they built to fight their war.

“It reminds me of something I read about in a class on old Earth history,” said Gunnery Sergeant Marta Janowitz, one of Brigg’s platoon sergeants.  “I think the word was Apartheid.”

“That’s an ugly sounding word,” said Petty Officer First Bjorn Nordstrom.  “What’s it mean”

“I read some texts about that period in Earth’s history, Sergeant,” said Laaksonen, grimacing.  “About South Africa, and how they segregated their society by skin color.”

“Sounds barbaric,” said Nordstrom, shaking his head.  “Why the hell would they do something like that?”

“One group thought they were superior to the other, the Europeans who moved in and displaced the native Africans as the dominant culture,” said Janowitz, her face a scowl.   “They had superior tech, which gave them an initial advantage they didn’t give up for centuries, when the rest of the world started calling for the end of the system.”

“So, while Johannesburg, the all white city, was well known around the world, most people had no idea that Soweto, the more or less ghetto city for black workers, was many times larger.”  Laaksonen shook his head again.  “At least we don’t have to deal with those kind of prejudices anymore.  But these people seem to have created their own subclass to look down on.”

“And why would any intelligent creature put up with being treated as a subclass?” asked Briggs, turning to look at one of the superscrapers that rose in the distance from the edge of that ghetto.

“They were raised to believe in the system,” said Laaksonen, following the Major’s gaze.  “And they are most probably under constant surveillance, from above and below.  Any questioning of authority will bring down the iron boot of that authority.  And, of course, they have the threat of the Cacas to keep them focused.  Nothing like a bogeyman to take the pressure off.”

“But, the Cacas are a very real threat, aren’t they” asked Janowitz.

“And that doesn’t mean they can’t use a real threat,” said the Exec.  “So much the better.”

“And we’re looking to make an alliance with these people?” asked Janowitz.

“We really don’t need to be talking about this out in the open,” cautioned Laaksonen, looking around for a moment, then back at the Gunnery Sergeant.  “We are here to observe.  This discussion can wait until we get back to the ship.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” came back the acknowledgements.

“Why don’t we see if we can get something to eat?” asked Major Briggs.  “I know you navy pukes don’t do any real work, so you don’t really get hungry, but this Marine is starving.”

“All you grunts do is hitch a ride on the ships we work,” said Laaksonen with a laugh.  “But I know this spacehead is hungry as well.”  He looked up the street that was empty of the blinking signs one would normally see on a street in one of the many commercial districts.  There were, however, many more subdued wooden signs, announcing shops, and, in a few cases, bars, pubs or restaurants.  “How about that place?”  The Exec pointed at a sign that stated it was the Wandering Earthling.

There was some argument, with a few wishing to go to one with the name of the Fatted Calf.  Laaksonen was not willing to let the party split up, so he made a command decision.  “By my order we will go to the Wandering Earthling.  And every man and woman jack is ordered to enjoy their meal.”

The Exec looked in the shop windows as they walked toward the bar and grill.  The shops were full of goods, clothing, jewelry, electronic devices.  The people shopping looked much like those on the streets of Capitulum.  There were all the ethnic groups of Earth, along with all of their mixtures.  It was funny how a little thing like an alien species trying to wipe out the human race brought everyone together, while they completely forgot all of the old hatreds that seemed to have kept the different groups at each other’s throats.  Everyone thought the human race would eventually outgrow it, but when it became counterproductive to survival, prejudice was left behind.  Though it seems that these people didn’t get rid of all prejudice, he thought, recalling the rumors that these humans had engaged in genocide.

Yep, the people looked the same, more or less, except for the different fashions, clothing and jewelry.  And the expressions on their faces, which had much more of a flat affect than would be seen in an Imperial crowd out on their off time.

“Is our shadow still with us” the Exec asked Briggs, who was their designated tail watcher.

“Sims and Cagney are still on the case,” said Briggs with a smile, using a reference that most citizens of the Empire would recognize, a famous detective pair that tracked fugitives throughout the frontier, at least on vid.  This pair was like a cartoon version of some secret police from Earth’s past.  They were dressed completely in black, and were obviously armed under their baggy jackets.

You would think they would just use some unobtrusive microdrones to follow us, thought Laaksonen.  Those devices were in evidence as well.  The small electronics the Imperials carried for communication with their ships could also be used for tracking devices like that, and they were aware of  half a dozen in the air overhead.  There were fifty-seven other groups on the moon for shore leave, and all appeared to have the interest of the secret police.

The people in the bar also had the same flat affect for the most part as they sat over their drinks or the remains of their meals.  Many of those expressions changed to suspicion as the Imperials walked into the bar and waited to be seated.  Despite the apparent prosperity of the city, there was an undercurrent of, something.  Depression, despondency.  Whatever it was, it was the sign that this society was not so healthy.

The food was good, with most of the Imperials ordering the local seafood, while Laaksonen decided to try the steak and lobster.  The local beer was also superb.  What was not so superb was the atmosphere.  It was obvious that everyone in the establishment was paying attention to everything they said and did.  Even though the pair of secret police did not come in, there were probably informants in the room, transmitting everything they observed.

“Have you toured the southern city?” asked the waitress, coming back to check on their drinks.  She spoke in a hushed voice, and before she did the bartender put some music on the sound system that made it difficult to hear anything not spoken in a loud voice from near range.

“Why, no,” answered Briggs, looking over at the Exec.  “Are we allowed to?”

“They said we had the run of the moon, except for some areas restricted due to their military sensitivity,” said the Exec, studying the woman closely.  She was dark skinned with fine red hair, of indeterminate age, though he would have guessed it at no more than fifty, still very young by modern standards.  “Do you know where we can hire a guide”

The woman hesitated for a moment, an expression of fear flashing across her face until she got it under control and turned to the same dead look that most of the people had.  “There is a man nearby who can accept your charter,” she said, tossing a small coin shaped object to Laaksonen.

The Exec caught the object and glanced at it, guessing that it was some kind of short range com that would signal a vehicle to come and get them.  The waitress glanced around, then walked off in a hurry.

As soon as they left the restaurant Laaksonen pulled the small disc from his pocket.  The two secret policemen were again with them, about twenty meters away and following them through the streets.

“Let’s go up there,” said Briggs, giving a short hand motion toward the roof of a nearby building, about thirty stories high, the tallest in the area.

“Good idea,” agreed the Exec, leading the way to the door to the lobby.  If they could get up there and call whoever it was they were to contact, the two buffoons following them might not be able to get an aerial vehicle here in time.

They hit the elevator bank and a lift before the two surveillance people got into the lobby, and were on their way.  As soon as they hit the roof exit Laaksonen activated the com.  He was not too surprised to find a large aircar already coming in for a landing as they exited the cab of the elevator.

“Get in,” called out the Pilot, who the Exec was surprised to see was not a Pure, but an Alpha Klavarta.  “Hurry.”

Laaksonen nodded to Briggs, who charged aboard the craft with his sergeant in tow.  The Major looked out and motioned for the rest to follow.  “There’s one other Alpha aboard,” he called out as the Spacers all jumped aboard the craft.  As soon as the last spacer had thrown herself into a seat the doors slid shut and the aircar leapt into the sky, just as the two secret police came running onto the rooftop, both yelling something those on aboard the car couldn’t hear.

Probably to come right back, thought Laaksonen with a smile as he fastened his seat belt, then looked over at his pilot.  Fat chance of that.

“You’re Slardra,” exclaimed the Exec, looking closely at the pilot of the car.  “What the hell are you doing piloting this thing?”  Of course it was harder to distinguish non-humans as individuals, which didn’t mean it was impossible.  And Slardra was the Klavarta that the crew of the Nina had had the most contact with.

“It was my idea to contact you like this,” answered the Alpha with a shrug of her shoulders. She looked forward in concentration, then turned the air car on its side and slid between two close buildings that barely allowed the vehicle through.  She flipped a switch and the view through the windows clouded over slightly.  “Now we are invisible to those who would track us.  And we have disappeared off all of the sensor nets.”  The Alpha closed her eyes for just a moment and whispered, “I hope.”

“Why all the cloak and dagger stuff,?” asked Laaksonen, seeing the look of confusion on her face.  “The secret stuff, like the spy vids.”

“We needed for you to know some things about us that the Masters were sure to keep from you,” said the Alpha.  She twisted the craft and dropped down, heading for a dark opening that loomed at the base of one of the buildings.  The car slid into the darkness, while Slardra pushed some controls on the car’s panel, then leaned back in her seat for a moment.  “This is an old transport tunnel for freight, still in periodic use, but hopefully not today.”

“So why don’t you tell me why you risked yourselves getting us on this vehicle?” asked Laaksonen.  “And I’m assuming that now we are at some risk as well.”

“Not really,” said the Pilot, turning her attention to Laaksonen.  “They will never find this car, or the pilot.  You will appear again on the streets of the capital, with a tale of a tour that you were told was approved by the Overlords.  They are too afraid of not gaining the aid of your Empire to risk anything untoward.”

“And if we just up and leave?”

“That will not be allowed, my friend.  If they think you are leaving with their secrets, and not with an offer of an alliance to present to your Emperor, they will never let you go.  And yes, your ships are very large, and I am sure have a lot of firepower.  And we have been defeating the ships of the Monsters, almost as large, for decades with swarms of our smaller ships.”

And the leadership here doesn’t realize that we have been in contact with our government the whole time, thought Laaksonen.  And if they try anything, not only will they not get an alliance, but the next ships to come along might have some more surprises for them.  Not that it will do us any good.

“So, what’s so important that you would risk yourself to get us alone with you?”

“Not entirely alone” said Slardra, shaking her head.  “There are others I want you to meet as well.”

The car slid through the darkened tunnel slowly, on autopilot.  A small screen showed a schematic of the tunnel, along with several sets of numbers, one small and getting larger, the other large and counting down to something.

“Well, since we seem to have some time on our hands, why don’t you start by telling me a little bit about why you have us in this dark tunnel?”

“It is a secure means to get you to the city of my folk,” said the Klavarta.

“I didn’t mean literally why we are in this tunnel,” said Laaksonen, shaking his head with a smile on his face.  “I meant, what was so important that you had to get us off by ourselves, out of the observation of your leaders?”

“Because we want to tell you about those leaders,” said the Alpha, a grimace on her face.  “And about the horrible things they have had us do through the time we have been here.”

*     *     *

The Yugalyth known as Lt. Lila Abernathy cursed mentally as she glanced back at the men in dark clothing who were following her party.  She thought she could get away from the other nine members of her shore leave party.  But the added complication of the tail was something she had not counted on.

I need to get away, the creature thought, eyes darting around, looking for the chance.  It only needed an hour, and the home of someone who lived by themselves, to set up the process.  An hour, to immobilize the person with the stinger she had hidden in one of her fingers, and to plant a cell culture on their body.  Over a couple of days the cells would grow, taking over the body, converting it to a Yugalyth copy of the human.  It would have all of the human’s memories, and a planted data disk would teach the new agent what it needed to know to accomplish its mission.  From there it could gather more specimens, increase the population of agents, and look for opportunities to carry forward the mission of her people.

But first she needed to be alone for that hour, maybe a little more to locate the specimen, but not much more than an hour and a half.  It seemed like she was not going to get it.

*     *     *

“I’m sure they meant no harm, Chairwoman,” said Commodore Sung to the woman on the holo.

“Then why did they run from my people to get into that aircar?” asked Chairwoman Pallion, her severe face glaring out from the holo.

Maybe because they were being observed by your people, thought Sung, keeping her face expressionless.  She was still angry at Laaksonen for taking off like that.  They were trying to stay on the good side of these people while they tried to get the information the Emperor wanted so he could make an informed decision on the relationship of the Empire to this nation, and not just something based on assumption.

“I don’t have an answer for you, Chairwoman, except to remind you that my people are used to a free society in which the average citizen is not under constant observation.”

“This is our world, Commodore, which is governed by our rules.”  The Chairwoman continued to glare for a moment.  “We have a need for information security on our world, in our nation, lest the Monsters learn that we are human and redouble their efforts to destroy us.”

And I doubt they would increase their efforts beyond what they’re already expending to try and destroy a kingdom of xenophobes, thought the Commodore.  I might be wrong, and they definitely seem to have it out for us.  “Again, Chairwoman, I am sure they meant no harm.  And I would take it as a favor to myself and my Empire if they are not treated badly when they are found.”

The Chairwoman’s expression became even more angry for a moment before softening.  “Your people are not criminals, not in any respect.  But I wish you would talk to them about staying where they are supposed to stay.”

And hopefully they will get enough information that we won’t have to stray into forbidden areas, thought Sung, nodding her head.  “Of course, Madame Chairwoman.  I will have a talk with my people to see that this doesn’t happen again.”  Unless we need it to happen, that is.

*     *     *

NEW MOSCOW MAY 20TH, 1002.

“We have you surrounded,” yelled out Cornelius through the mic in his hand, his words broadcast from a half dozen armored suits that were arrayed around the cavern entrances.  “Drop your weapons and come out, and you will not be harmed.”

An entire platoon of heavy infantry had dropped in from the air transports, and were now dug into positions overlooking every entrance to the cavern system.  A back entrance had been found by the microdrones, and a squad with a pair of heavy particle beams were positioned to burn down whatever tried to egress from that point.

“We would rather die,” called out a deep voice from the central entrance to the cavern.  “We are warriors, and it is our duty and our privilege to die for our Emperor.”

“Well, so much for that strategy,” said First Sergeant Renhard Fujardo, lying in position next to his captain.

“I would prefer just to go ahead and vaporize the assholes when they try to escape,” said Cornelius, glaring at the dark opening of the cavern.  “Or, better yet, drop the rocks from the mountain onto those entrances and just leave them, dead and buried.”

“You’re the commander on the spot, sir,” said the senior NCO.  “If that’s what you order, that’s what we’ll do.  But…”

“Yeah, but.”  Lt. General Baggett had asked for prisoners, and here were at least a dozen of them, in good shape.  Just what they needed for interrogation.  He looked at the entrance once again, then made up his mind.

“To the leader of the Ca’cadasans in the cavern,” he said over the mic.  “I have a proposal for you.  Why would you want to die for no purpose?  Instead, I propose that your greatest warrior meet me in one on one, hand to hand combat.  If I win, the rest of you come out of the cavern and surrender to us.  If you win, we will leave, and allow you to escape into the jungle as you might.”

“I don’t know if you have the authority to make that agreement, sir,” cautioned the First Sergeant.

“Of course I don’t,” said Cornelius with a tight smile.  “So if I lose, I want you to send grenades through the entrance to those caverns.  I’m not so big a man that I don’t want revenge on the big bastards if they kill me.”

“We agree,” yelled the guttural voice.  “But only if you will face our champion with primitive weapons.  Blade weapons or bludgeons only.”

“Kind of gives them the advantage, doesn’t it?” asked Fujardo.

“At least they think so.  But I intend to prove them wrong.”  Cornelius looked over at the cavern entrance.  “I agree.  I will meet your champion, with blade weapons.  As a show of good faith, I will come out first, so you will know we are not trying to trick your champion into coming into our line of sight.”

“Agreed,” shouted the voice.

“I think this is a bad idea, sir,” said the First Sergeant.  “I advise against it.”

“Advice heard, First Sergeant.  Decision made.  I’m going out there.”

Cornelius stood and unbuckled his weapons’ harness, dropping  it to the ground, then laying his rifle down beside it.  He pulled his monomolecular combat knife from its sheath and looked at the blade.  It was sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone with very little pressure.  Outside of its sheath it was an extreme hazard, and many people in the past had lopped off fingers, and even hands, by mishandling such a blade.

Cornelius hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was going to step out into the open and eat a particle beam.  So far he had led a charmed life throughout his military career.  He had seen men and women he had thought were just as good as he, in some cases better, die because they had occupied the wrong cubic meter of space at the wrong moment.  There were no guarantees, whatsoever.

No use delaying it any more than necessary, he thought, stepping out of cover and making his way down the gentle slope to the small clearing in front of the cavern.  Either he did it, or he didn’t, and with the decision to do it, there was no other choice.

“I’m here,” he yelled at the dark opening.  “Send your champion out.”

For a couple of moments, nothing happened, and Cornelius felt the cold sweat running down his face as he waited for that particle beam.  Then something moved from the darkness, and the largest Caca he had ever seen stepped out of the dark and into the light.  It was a mass of six limbed muscle, gripping a sword longer than a human in its lower pair of hands.

How in the hell did it get a blade like that? thought the Ranger officer.  He had seen some of the very long knives the Cacas carried into battle, but nothing like that sword, which looked like a cross between a katana and a fifteenth century zweihander.  The monstrous alien swirled the blade in the air, switching it from hand to hand and leaving no doubt about its ability to use the weapon.

“Come to me, human,” growled the creature in its own language.  “And know that you face a Champion of the Empire, before I split you in half.”

“Not really my plan,” whispered Cornelius to himself, watching that blade.  He had no doubt that he was faster than the creature.  A normal human had faster reaction time than a Ca’cadasan, due to the difference in size and metabolism.  And his own reaction time was more than three times that of a normal human.  Which would not help a bit if that sword hit him squarely.

“Come to me, coward,” growled the creature, shuffling forward, sword point ahead like a spear.

Cornelius started forward, his feet taking short, quick steps, knife held by his side.  He was almost within reach of the sword when the Caca took a step forward and thrust, a move that should have spitted the human through the chest.  The Ranger twisted his body, the edge of the blade slicing through his loose clothing, then spun inward and planted his knife into the left lower arm of the creature.

The Caca screamed out, a high pitched sound that did not seem to fit its great size.  The left lower forearm slumped as the muscles and tendons controlling it were severed by the monomolecular blade.  The left upper arm came down in a desperation move, striking Cornelius on the shoulder and driving him to the ground.

Walborski looked up as he struggled from the ground.  His own great strength, more than three times that of a normal human, was outmatched by the huge creature, who also had the advantage of the mass behind its blows.  If his bones hadn’t have been carbon fiber reinforced, he was sure he would have sustained at least a collar bone fracture, if not a broken arm.  The creature had changed his hold on the sword to his upper hands and had brought it up to its full height.  It brought the blade down, the point aiming at the Ranger’s back.  With his heightened reflexes Cornelius rolled out of the way, completing the roll to come to his feet.

The Caca slammed the point of his blade into the ground, looking up to see the Ranger coming to his feet.  The creature growled as it pulled the blade from the ground, and brought it back up over its right shoulder, preparing for a hard swing.

Cacas were shouting from the cavern, trying to cheer on their champion.  The human side was silent, and Cornelius hoped that was because of their discipline, and not because they thought he was going to lose.  He put such thoughts out of his mind for the moment, concentrating on the task at hand.

The Caca stepped forward, bringing his blade around in a swing that would have cut the human in half through the upper torso if it connected.  Cornelius jumped back, then ran forward as the blade crossed and lifted to the Caca’s other shoulder.  Cornelius was inside the return swing before the blade could come back, slicing his knife into the left upper biceps of the creature, then punching forward with his off hand into what he thought was the equivalent of the solar plexus of the Caca.  It must have been a good guess, since the monster bent forward with a whooshing of breath.  The Ranger continued forward, under the right arms of the Caca, and ran a few steps before spinning around in place.

The Caca had turned to follow him, an expression of pain on its face, muzzle scrunched up and teeth bared.  Blood was dripping from both left arms, and it was obvious that the creature was almost helpless on that side.  So he ran around to give himself an approach to the left, faster than the Caca could turn, and ran in with his knife held forward.  He was totally surprised by the left foot that came up and hit him in the right thigh, knocking him over and away.

Shit, thought the Ranger, realizing that he had underestimated the Caca.  Champion must have meant that it was skilled in several of the fighting techniques of his people, and that included unarmed.  And now the Caca was again coming at him in an aggressive manner, sword held in upper right hand, lower right balled up in a fist and held close to his side.

Cornelius hesitated for a moment, letting the Caca advance.  He couldn’t slight the courage of the creature, much as he hated his kind.  Cornelius feinted to his right, toward the Caca’s injured left, then moved in a blur to his own left, knife slashing out and cutting completely through the right lower wrist of the creature, connected to the hand that was now holding the sword.

The Caca roared, the sword dropping to the ground gripped in the severed hand.  It grabbed at  the stump with its right upper hand, its eyes staring at the human, a panicked expression on its face.  Cornelius didn’t give it time for thought, throwing his body through the air and slamming both feet into the creature’s left knee.  The Caca went down, the Ranger rolled on top, his knife  poking the side of the creature’s neck.

“Surrender,” he told the Caca in its guttural language.

The Caca went limp, shaking its head, right upper hand still trying to put pressure on its bleeding right lower wrist.  “Who are you, human, who speaks our tongue, and fights like a demon.”

“You might have heard of me,” said Cornelius, getting off the Caca and waving one of the heavy infantry troopers, a medic, forward.  The rest of the Cacas were walking slowly from the cavern, a look of defeat on their faces, dropping their weapons in the dirt.  “I’m called the Hunter by my people.”

The Cacas eyes widened.  “If I had known I was facing you, I would have ordered all of my males to attack.  But it would have been an honor to have defeated you in single combat.”

“Well, that’s something none of you bastards can brag about, yet,” said Cornelius with a grin.  “And I’m going to see to it that none of you ever can.”

Chapter Sixteen

Morality binds people into groups. It gives us tribalism, it gives us genocide, war, and politics. But it also gives us heroism, altruism, and sainthood.

Jonathan Haidt.

NEW MOSCOW  MAY 20TH, 1002.

Gauroi Laaksonen was shocked by what he had seen on the short walk from the underground garage to this meeting room.  Not that it was frightening or disgusting or anything like that.  But the contrast between the what could only be called a ghetto and the advanced city of the Pures was striking.  Almost everyone was dressed in one of several types of jumpsuits, versus the varied and colorful clothing of the Pures.  The shops they walked by were empty of anything but more utilitarian clothing, simple tools, and basic electronics.  It was obvious that this was an underclass as compared to the normal human Pures.

Laaksonen wasn’t sure that the covering robes and hoods he and his people were wearing would really disguise them, and would in fact make them stand out.  But there seemed to be many beings out on the streets wearing similar robes and hoods.  The Exec really couldn’t figure out why anyone needed to dress like that, or what advantages it conferred.  That it helped the Imperials to blend in was useful, and Laaksonen wondered if that was the purpose.

They only walked a couple of blocks, and the Exec was sure that it had been meant to show them the city, and the second class status of the Klavarta.  Slardra turned into a doorway and led the way into one of those small shops, nodding at the Engineer subclass who was the obvious shopkeeper.  That being nodded back, moving to the door and making sure it was shut, then engaging the lock and turning on a closed sign.  That the Engineer was feeling some anxiety was obvious, and the Exec again wondered what he had gotten himself and his people into.  He was down here to gather information, and he was willing to take some risks, though he wasn’t sure if all of his people would agree.  Tough.  They signed up for this job, and no one told them it was going to be safe, or that they would die in bed.  It was a brave thought, but he wasn’t sure if he really felt that way deep down.

They walked through a storeroom, down a long set of stairs, and through a door that led to an underground hallway.  Several doors opened on the hallway on both sides, but Slardra led them to the door at the end, stopping for a moment and knocking in what had to be a pattern.

The lock on the heavy hatch clicked, and Slardra pushed the door in, looked in for a moment, then opened it completely and waved everyone to follow her.  Laaksonen looked around as he walked through the opening, surprised at the number of beings in the large, thirty by twenty meter chamber.  There were a dozen of the Alphas sitting at the long table, along with eight of the Warrior class, six Engineers and five other Klavarta of a subtype he was not familiar with.

One of the Alphas stood up and walked around the table, holding out his right hand.

“We have been so looking forward to this meeting,” said the Alpha, who from his age and bearing had to be a senior officer of some type.  “I am Admiral Manstara, the subcommander of the Home Fleet.”

“And who is the commander?” asked Laaksonen, grasping the smooth hand of the semiaquatic being.  “Let me guess, a Pure.”

“The Admiral is the actual commander of the fleet,” said Slardra quickly.   “But they do not trust us enough to give Manstara the actual command codes for an insystem force.  That task is given to a Pure, which prevents us from having any kind of naval force at hand.”

“She is correct,” said the Admiral with a grimace.  “Though I could have wished that she had waited to give you that much information about us.”

“What are you?” asked Major Briggs, staring at the Klavarta Admiral.  “Is this some kind of revolutionary committee?”

“It will all be explained, in time,” said the Admiral, motioning to the empty seats along the near side of the table.  “Now please, make yourselves comfortable, and we will try to satisfy your curiosity.”

The Exec nodded to the people in his party, giving them permission to sit.  They were here now, and would only leave here if these Klarvarta decided to let them.

“And now,” said the Admiral and he sat back in his own seat, “I would like to introduce you to our teacher and our leader.”

A holo came to life over the table, a human face, a Pure human face, looking out of the hologram.  Laaksonen thought that the face looked familiar, someone he had seen before, but could not remember the circumstances.

“Welcome to our nightmare, my friends,” came the voice from the holo.

“Who are you?” asked Laaksonen, his mind struggling to come up with the connection his memory was making to this face.

“I am, I was, the Assistant Secretary General of the World Government of Earth” said the face.  “I was on the ship that brought these people here, in cryo with the rest of the passengers.  And like the rest of the passengers, I was killed when we were struck by the Ca’cadasans while escaping into subspace.”

So that’s where I’ve seen that face, thought the Exec, nodding.  Godfrey Jernigan was one of the guiding powers in the Exodus project that saved some of the human race from destruction.  “Did they  clone you, and reemplant memories in your new body?”

“There wasn’t enough of my, body, left for cloning.  It had been blown out into space through one of the hull breaches.  But my memories survived, somehow, mostly.  Almost all of the backup memories had gone with the memory banks that were vaporized.  About three quarters of mine survived, the most of any of the survivors.”

“What happened here, Mr. Jernigan?” asked the Exec.  “How did you end up with a committee of clones running your government?”

“And that is the nightmare,” said the holo.  “Not anything we had planned, but once you know the history of it, you may agree that there was really no way out.  But let me show you, from the memories of those who survived the attack.”

The room darkened and the holo expanded until it was ceiling height and four meters in width.  The bridge of the Exodus IV came up on the holo, the crew, many of them recognizable as the people who ran the council of the Klavarta Kingdom, sitting in tense postures in their seats as the ship forged its way out of the solar system.  The countdown on the bottom of the viewer was showing just over two minutes, and it didn’t take a genius to realize what those numbers meant.  Another viewer, to the right of the primary, was showing what was coming up behind.  There were gasps in the room at that view, though everyone in the chamber could have guessed what it was going to show.  Ca’cadasan warships, not all that far behind and catching up quickly.  And a small spread of missiles ahead of them, obviously on a path that would intersect the Exodus ship well before it reached the barrier signified by that countdown clock.

Lasers struck out from the ship, and one of the chasing missiles detonated with a star bright flash in space, expanding outward and catching another missile in its plasma, detonating it as well.  A third missile went up, then a fourth.  All sent heat and radiation into the Exodus, and damage klaxons went off on the bridge.  The fifth that blew was close enough to send some of its plasma into the hull of the vessel, and areas on the schematic of the stern lit up while the ship shuddered.

“Open up the portal into subspace,” ordered the man sitting in the Captain’s chair.

“We’re not past the safety limit,” argued the helmsman.

“And we’ll be plasma before we reach that limit, you idiot,” growled the Captain.  “Now get us into hyper, or I’ll blow your brains out on your control board.”  The Captain got to his feet and pulled a chemical pistol, ancient hardware still in widespread use at that time, from his holster.

The helmsman shook his head, but did as he was commanded.  The hole to the dimension of subspace started to open ahead, but there was a strange look to the forming portal.  It was too ragged, and energy seemed to crackle at the edges.  The ship headed in, having no choice, as more missiles came up from behind.  The ship shook with some heavy hits as Ca’cadasan lasers struck the stern, then was into the opening.

Everyone watching could tell that the ship was in trouble as it shook like a rat in the mouth of a hound as it transited the portal.  Areas of schematic went orange and red until over half the ship showed great damage.  A section near the port stern, several hundred thousand tons of mass, broke off and flew into pieces, much of which streamed out of the portal back into normal space.

A pair of lasers struck the ship as it finished transiting, before the portal could close, and most of the stern defensive weapons were blown offline.  The ship bucked hard once again, the bridge crew thrown about in their seat harness.  The Captain, who was still standing, was thrown into the air, then caught by a local gravity fluctuation that threw him like a bullet, headfirst, into the rear bulkhead.  His head smashed like a ripe fruit on that bulkhead, splattering blood and brain tissue over the rear of the bridge.  The body continued into the bulkhead, all of the bones shattering, then sticking to the wall in the gravity fluctuation.

A missile came through the portal just before it could close, detonating a mere fifty meters from the stern.  The stern of the ship was shredded, the blast reaching back through the closing portal before it could completely disappear.

“We figured afterward that the Ca’cadasans must have thought that we had been destroyed,” said the voice of Jernigan.  “They didn’t pursue, at least not immediately, giving us time to slip away.  And they almost didn’t need to pursue.  The ship was terribly damaged.  We were able to accelerate at point five gravities.  Fortunately, we were in subspace, and not hyper, so our reduction in generating power to almost nothing didn’t effect where we ended up.”

Laaksonen nodded, knowing what the being spoke of.  If they had been in hyper, and had lost their ability to generate a hyperfield, they would have catastrophically translated back into normal space, and that would most probably have been the end of them all.  But once in subspace, they would stay there until they opened a portal to get out.

“They were not able to navigate with any kind of accuracy.  So they pushed up to point eight five light, the greatest velocity the particle shields could handle, or so they hoped. All of the passengers were dead, most of the organic cargo, most of the embryos, the majority of the animal forms, gone.  Some of the seeds survived, and you can see the vegetation on this planet, and enough animal forms to make up an ecosystem.  And most of the crew was dead as well, only the bridge crew and some others surviving.  Most of those were injured.  And then the radiation struck through the shields that were not as strong as thought.”

“So they cloned new bodies and transferred their consciousnesses over?”

“They really had no choice.  Not if they had a hope of saving the human race.  They did not know that your ship had also escaped, so they did what they had to do to save what they knew of.”

“So they cloned themselves, and the leaders of this branch of the human species became psychopaths, with no conscience, and no empathy for others,” said Briggs, shaking his head.  “And doomed this branch of the human race to become monsters.”

“That was the nightmare,” agreed Jernigan, his holographic head nodding.  “The intent of the Overlords was good, they wanted to save the species.  The effect was horrible, a group of essentially immortal psychopaths in charge of the remains of a human race, seeking revenge at all costs.”

“How long did it take for you to get here?” asked Briggs, looking over at Laaksonen for a moment as if to get permission after the fact to ask.  “I mean, you had to actually go through the Ca’cadasan Empire, unless you somehow worked your way around the outside of their territory.”

“We went through the Ca’cadasan Empire,” agreed Jernigan, his eyes narrowing as if at a painful memory.   “We really didn’t know where we were much of the time.  The couple of times we came out of subspace and approached a gravity well, we were horrified to find that we were in the midst of Ca’cadasan space.  We had no choice to continue on, hoping that we would eventually get out of their Empire.  After fourteen hundred years we did so, and came out several hundred light years closer to their Empire than we are now.  We were safe, or so we thought, and took six hundred years to establish our own Empire, with revenge constantly on our minds.”

So they’ve been in place at least four hundred years less than we have, thought Laaksonen.  And how far have we come in four hundred years?

“But you reestablished the human race here, despite losing all of the passengers and most of the genetic material,” said Laaksonen.

“A little genetic manipulation along the way and we were able to come up with enough diversity to recreate Earth,” said Jernigan.

“Which you recreated on this moon,” said Briggs with a nod.  “We saw the Earth trees you have planted all over the hemisphere we flew over to get to your capital city.  And the animals.”

The holo image grimaced yet again, closing its eyes, then staring out into space as if it were looking into the past.  “I argued against that,” he said.  “This world already had a thriving ecology, life similar to what Earth possessed in the Cambrian, plants colonizing the land, the first animals following.  I argued that we needed to preserve this life.  Colonize the planet, sure, but retain at least half the surface for native flora and fauna.  But I was overruled, and learned how much power I really had, and how much will.”

“How much will?”

“Yes, because though I had the memories of a man, and more conscience than any of the organic Overlords, I was still a cybernetic organism.  A word from the Overlords and all will to argue, to fight for this world, left me.”

“It is OK, my friend,” said Admiral Manstara, his eyes tearing up.  “You did what you could.”

“Whose idea was it to make the Klavarta?” asked Briggs, looking at one of the formidable looking soldier variants.

“I’m not sure who came up with the idea at first,” said the cyberman.  “But once it was agreed upon, they went with it.  I thought it was a good idea in general myself, but I quailed at some of the forms they meant to produce.  Not the general physical specimens, but the way they wanted to make a slave race, one with a short life span, who would only be good for war, for dying for the normal humans, so that those humans wouldn’t have to.”

“And from what I have seen, you have your permanent underclass to die for you,” said Laaksonen, shaking his head.  “And there will never be any change.  As long as the same people are in charge it never will change.  And if the people you have in charge have their way, they will always be in charge, for thousands of years, or until you are overrun by the Cacas, whichever comes first.”

The Imperials sat there in silence for some time, looking at each other, glancing at the Klavarta, who were as much slaves as any who had been enslaved by the Roman, Arab or Southern US cultures of old Earth.  Doomed to live shortened lives, while the rest of humanity enjoyed the longevity of their improved biology.

“Why the shortened lives?” asked Briggs, breaking the silence.  “Why not give them at least the benefit of a long life?”

“It was thought that military necessity called for a population of warriors that could be increased quickly over the short term.  A subspecies that could go from birth to adulthood in less than a decade.  As you must know, longevity comes with slow maturation, which is part of slowing the overall aging process.  So, conversely, rapid maturation leads to rapid aging, and none of the Klavarta make it past the sixty year mark, while forty or fifty years is more the norm.”

“But, what about the experience you are losing by letting your best warriors and crews die young?” asked Briggs.  “I’m over forty myself, and hope that someday I make general.  If I were a Klavarta, I would be dead before I reached flag rank.”

“I am fifty-four Earth years myself,” said the Klavarta Admiral, grimacing.  “I can expect to hit the old age barrier at any time.  In six months from that point I will be dead.”

“But the Council, the Overlords, felt that since the Pure humans would provide the senior leadership, it really didn’t matter,” said Jernigan.  “Some argued that since the region we were in could support a large population, there was really no need for the ability to rapidly increase our warrior population.  But the Council disagreed, and so the Klavarta are how they are.”

Again there was silence in the room, the Imperials too shocked to speak.  The Empire had been known to take some desperate measures, but creating a short lived slave race to fight its wars was beyond the pale.  Every Imperial in this room had volunteered their service to the Empire and its people.  They had done so proudly, and could not imagine being born to be warriors.  Having no choice in the matter, and partaking of almost none of the benefits of their advanced society.

“And what happened to the alien species who were already in this region?” asked Gunnery Sergeant Janowitz, the question that was on all of their minds, a troubled look on her face.  Laaksonen felt sure he knew how she was feeling, because those same thoughts and emotions were running through his own mind.

“The Council ordered the extermination of all sentient alien life within our borders,” said the holo with a bowed head.  “It happened after a few of the alien races we had conquered revolted, and ships were intercepted that were on a course into Ca’cadasan space.  The Council, in its paranoia, decided that we could not risk the beings that hated us, justified if I was to be asked, telling the Ca’cadasans who we really were.”

“So you committed, genocide?” asked Janowitz in a choked voice.  “You slaughtered intelligent life, wiped out whole genomes?”

“The Klavarta did the actual killing,” said Slardra, looking down in shame.

Janowitz turned an angry gaze on the Klavarta, and again Laaksonen knew how she felt.

“On the orders of the Immortal Psychopaths who run our government,” said Jernigan.  “None of these Klavarta is responsible, since they were not alive at the time, though they still feel the guilt.  And the repercussions.”

“Repercussions?”

“Yes, Commander.  We are anathema to the other species of this sector.  Those who were powerful enough to resist being conquered before we became entangled with the Monsters, as the Klavarta like to call them.  To them, we are the monsters, and they shoot at us on sight, even though we are fighting an enemy that would love to enslave them as well.”

“What do you want of us, Mr. Jernigan?” asked Laaksonen, getting to the point.  “Why arrange for this meeting in the first place, unless you want us as enemies to your people?”

“Not enemies to our people, Commander,” said Jernigan, his image blurring for just a moment.  “Enemies to our government, yes.  I mean to see the Klavarta free to pursue a destiny fitting of intelligent beings.”

“And the war with the Cacas?” asked Briggs.

“Would have to continue,” said the holo.  “Lest the, Cacas? I kind of like that term.  Lest the Cacas enslave them as well.  But they will fight for their own freedom, with the long life promised to other humans.”

“How will your Pures think about this?” asked Briggs.

“Some will be behind us, some will oppose us, same as most peoples.  But many see the injustices that have been done to the Klavarta, and would like to redress them.”

“But your immortal, psychopathic leaders stand in the way”

“Yes, Commander.  That they do.  And we don’t have the power to overthrow them on our own.  They command the loyalty of the majority of our warrior class, which is the only class that really matters in a battle on the planet.  And they have all the ships in the system locked down with codes only they and the heads of the military, all Pures, can access.”

“And I’m not sure what we can do,” said Laaksonen, shaking his head.  “I don’t have the authority to promise you anything.  I have to ask the Commodore what she wants to do, and she will probably have to contact the Empire before she can make any kind of promise.”  The Commander realized he had made an error as soon as the words left his mouth.  He didn’t see any recognition of his mistake with the Klavarta or their cybernetic leader, and he hoped they wouldn’t catch on.

“All I can ask is that you take this information to your Commodore,” said Cyber-Jernigan.  “I just hope you come to the right decision, one that will benefit both of us.”

Laaksonen realized that this meeting was over.  He got up from his chair and followed Slardra from the room with the rest of his people on his tail.

“How much do you trust that memory from the past?” he asked Slardra as they headed for the stairs back up to the store.

“He is under a death sentence from the Council,” said the Klavarta Alpha as they walked the steps.  “They purged him from the memory of the Council computer, but a copy of him had escaped before they could make sure.  My people, at least those who yearn for freedom, trust him with our lives.”

Slardra cut them loose on the street with instructions to walk along as if they were just curious tourists.  The warriors in the uniforms of the police came for them a half mile from where they had exited the shop.  The Commander was sure they wouldn’t be harmed, but the stern looks and the drawn weapons of the police made him wonder if he might be wrong.

*     *     *

Finally, thought the Yugalyth known as Lila Abernathy.  The still live body of the subject she had taken lay on the bed, unconscious from the injection she had given her, pushing her sting into the back of the young woman’s neck.  It had been a task to get away from her party, and she was sure she would be facing punishment when she returned.  She had a cover story, that she wasn’t sure would be totally believed, and she would probably not be allowed back on the moon.

That’s fine, the creature thought, looking at the cell culture she had removed from herself and planted on the body.  The job is done.  The culture was eating the body a little bit at a time, creating more of itself.  In two days there would only be Yugalyth on this bed, and exact copy of this female, at least on the surface.  It would have all the memories of the human, and it would find the memory disk that would fill in the background and give it its mission.

Time to leave, it thought with one last look at the body.  A moment later it was out the door, locking it behind it.  It checked its com link, finding it was still disconnected at her command, then reactivated it.

“Lt. Abernathy,” came the call from the ship.  “Where have you been?”

“Some man tried to abduct me while I was on a bathroom break,” she said over the com.  “I need to find one of our shore leave parties.  Please.  I think they are still after me.”

*     *     *

FENRI SPACE, MAY 20TH, 1002.

“Next stop, the Fenri capital,” said the Grand Fleet Admiral Duke Taelis Mgonda to his subordinate over the wormhole com.

We sure paid the price, thought Fleet Admiral Theodosius Glaven, nodding to his superior as he thought about the battle he had just waged, forty-six hours of long range warfare that had degenerated into a knife fight at the end.  He had lost almost a thousand ships in that fight, and over three million crew, the great majority of them permanently killed, not enough left for resurrection.

“Wasn’t it Wellington who said that nothing was more melancholy than a battle won except for a battle lost?” asked Glaven, his burning eyes looking at the com.

“I think the exact quote was, ‘Nothing except a battle lost can be half as melancholy as a battle won’, Admiral,” said Mgonda.  “And yes, our losses were terrible.”

Glaven looked at the tactical viewer that showed the icons of his still working ships, as well as the navigation hazards of all the derelicts and pieces of vessels that cluttered his space.

“But remember this, Admiral,” continued Mgonda.  “Today you broke the back of the Fenri fleet.  Over three thousand ships destroyed, another thousand boarded and captured.  As far as we can tell, the only Caca ships in their force destroyed.  It would have been much worse, and probably including many tens of millions of civilians, if we had fought them in the kind of defensive battle they would have preferred.”

“I’m just exhausted, Admiral,” said Glavin, rubbing his eyes.

“Then get some rest.  I will have the rest of the fleet at your location within the next forty-eight hours.  We’ll organize then, and move in our attack formations to their capital.”

“So you think they are beaten?”

“I think they might have some fight left in them, especially when they see us approaching their homeworld.  But they can’t have a lot left to fight with, at least in space.  It might be a different story when we start landing the troops, but with control of space, we should have all the advantages.”

So only another couple of million casualties to go, and maybe a billion or so of the enemy, and this war will be over, thought Glavin, walking off his flag bridge and heading for his cabin.  He shook his head before returning the salute of the Marine guard on the door, then retreated to the relative solitude of his private space.

He tried to sleep after a hot shower and some chocolate.  But sleep would not come as his mind was preoccupied with images of ships exploding, multi-megaton vessels fading from the plot as they and everyone aboard converted to plasma.  And not just from this last battle, but images from fights he had been in through his career, from his time as a weapons officer up until his command of this fleet.

Glavin finally decided he was not going to get any sleep.  Even the reticular activating system module of his implant was fighting a losing battle, the first time that had ever happened.  Pulling himself out of bed, the Admiral made his way to his attached office and sat at his desk, pulling up a holo of an accelerated compilation of the fight.

He was proud of his battle plan, and the results had borne out that pride.  The decoy force, the bait, had performed to perfection, luring the bulk of the Fenri fleet deep into the gravity well of the system they had chosen for the fight.  He still felt some guilt at the choice of the task group that had been used as bait.  He had almost let someone on his staff choose those ships, but it wouldn’t have been fair to those subordinates.  It was his responsibility to choose those who would be most likely to lose their lives in the operation, and he had tried his best to make a dispassionate, objective decision about who to put on that hot seat.  The choice had to go to who he thought was best able to pull off the deception while being pounded by the enemy fleet.  The woman he had put in charge had not survived the battle, and he wasn’t looking forward to writing the letter he was charged with producing, expressing his sympathy at the death of the Vice Admiral.

The battle replayed on the holo.  The seven hundred ship task group, really a small fleet in itself, was large enough to lure a much larger force into the well, and small enough to give the Fenri the confidence they needed to go after it.  The group had played its part to perfection, looking like a panicked force that was trying desperately to escape the system, with no hope of relief.  The bulk of the Fenri fleet was well into the system, over a half light hour in from the hyper I barrier, eight hours from escape.  That was when the rest of his fleet had moved in, catching most of the Fenri fleet in normal space, chasing the majority of what they had left outside the barrier in hyper as they tried to get away.

The decoy group had lost over five hundred ships, half of his losses overall, well over seventy percent of that total force.  And, as Admiral Mgonda had said, he had broken the back of the Fenri Battlefleet.

Glavin studied the playback for a good four hours, trying to find his mistakes, of which there were more than a few, and tried to determine what he could have done differently.  After much soul searching he was sure that he had done the best that he could possibly do.  He might have been able to shave off a few more casualties, maybe ten thousand or so.  Even one saved life was significant.  But he had to admit that changing decisions, even if they were correct, would not have guaranteed fewer casualties.

At the end of his self-study he was satisfied that he had done the best that he could do, and that those under him had given their best as well.  With that, he went back to his bed, and this time his implant had no problem putting him into a deep sleep.  His only hope was that nothing would disturb his sleep before the ten hours he had programmed in with a thought passed.

Chapter Seventeen

The more a general is accustomed to place heavy demands on his soldiers, the more he can depend on their response.

Carl von Clausewitz.

KLAVARTA SPACE:  MAY 22ND, 1002.

“We have two more groups coming in on interception courses,” called out the Tactical Officer.

The Great Admiral grunted as he watched the two formations appear on the plot.  Both were coming in through hyper VII.  There would be no surprise jump with this attack.  Those only appeared from directly ahead, or at no more than twenty degrees from their own axis of approach.  That comprised only about ten percent of the attacks, while the rest came in on other axes that didn’t allow a fast translation and acceleration to contact.  The enemy ships could still fire long range missiles, but they couldn’t catch up and do a close in attack.

“Target Alpha comprised of about two hundred vessels, most in the thirty to fifty thousand ton range, a few larger.  Target Beta has about one hundred and forty small attack ships, in the same range as Alpha.”

Which had been the composition of all of the attack waves as far as class of ships went.  Some waves were larger, some smaller.  And none of them had done more than chip away a little bit at his massive fleet.  He had lost ninety-seven ships, most of them scouts, a score of supercruisers, and a pair of superbattleships.  And the enemy had lost an estimated seven thousand of their attack ships, about two hundred and forty million tons of warships.

If they hit us in a larger wave, they might get a more favorable exchange, thought the Ca’cadasan Great Admiral.  But they haven’t been able to organize such an attack with us plunging into their space at high velocity.

“Firing on Alpha, now,” called out the Tactical Officer.  The ships closest to that attack force, about two thousand of them, each released one missile, and the two thousand weapons headed toward the enemy wave, accelerating at eight thousand gravities.  They would close with the attack ships at point six light, not the most effective attack profile, but good enough to take out most of the wave when there were ten missiles to each small attack vessel, which had nowhere near the defensive firepower of a proper warship.

Before those missiles reached their targets, another group of ships fired on the Beta force.  Minutes after both attack groups opened fire with their own missiles, sending a wave of eighteen hundred weapons toward the Ca’cadasan fleet.  A minute later they launched the rest of their missiles, another eighteen hundred, and continued in at their own maximum acceleration, trying to close to knife fighting range.

“It’s suicide,” exclaimed the Great Admiral’s Chief of Staff.  “Even if they get some ships into beam weapons attack range, they won’t do more than superficial damage.  And surely none of them will escape.”

“No,” hissed the Great Admiral.  “They won’t.”

The missiles came in onto their attack profiles on both enemy groups within a minute of each other.  When it was over the one attack group had ceased to exist, while the other had a mere twenty-three ships, two starting to drop back from reduced acceleration, unable to keep up with their mates.

The waves of the enemy missiles came in, easy pickings for the integrated defensive fire of the massive fleet.  A few got close enough to cause some damage, but not enough to even drop any of the Ca’cadasan ships out of formation.  And as the surviving ships got close to their own beam range, the massed fire of the fleet turned them all into vapor that was quickly evacuated from hyper back into normal space.

“Maybe we can have some peace for a short time,” said the Chief of Staff with little conviction.

It is fortunate they don’t have the instantaneous communications we’ve heard the other humans possess, thought the Great Admiral.  Otherwise, we might get swarmed under before we reached our target.

“We have multiple translations from straight ahead,” shouted out the Tactical Officer.  “More than two thousand objects.”

“Size?” asked the Great Admiral, leaning forward in his chair to look at the thousands of icons that had appeared several light minutes ahead.

“Mostly in the thirty to forty thousand ton range, same as the other waves, my Lord.  There are several hundred smaller ships, and a couple score vessels over a million tons.”

And these are in a position to really hurt us, thought the Great Admiral.  Even though the enemy had translated at point three five light, the closing speed was going to be just below light speed, and at that velocity, anything they fired was going to be coming in on optimal attack profile.

“Hit them with everything we have,” he ordered his Tactical Officer.  “I don’t want any of them to fly through our formation.”

That was almost what happened, almost.  The several score ships that made it into the Ca’cadasan formation destroyed over a score of warships, mostly by colliding in suicide attacks.  It was only a sting, but a painful one, as the Klavarta took out the Ca’cadasans at a tonnage exchange of two to one.

*     *     *

“I wish you hadn’t taken such a chance, Exec,” said Commodore Natasha Sung, giving her Exec a disapproving look, her hands on her hips.  “Chairwoman Pallion was so mad I thought the moon was going to spontaneously combust.”

Laaksonen sat there, not saying a word, which was probably the best thing he could have done.  Sung wanted to make a point for the record, but she also was sure that the Exec had actually done the right thing.  All they had been getting from the official organ of the Party was the same old song and dance about the wonderful they were, how happy their Klavarta servants were, and how well they were fighting the Cacas.  While she had no doubt that they were doing a bang up job against the Cacas, she was also sure that the big aliens were giving them all they could handle.  As far as how wonderful they were, and how happy the servants they had created were?  Well, now they knew a little more of the truth.  The whole truth?  Or just what the Klavarta resistance and their cyber leader wanted them to think.

“That said, it was a good call.  The official line of the Party was not the truth we needed to hear.  We weren’t getting anything out of them but platitudes and lies.”

“What’s with this Party thing, ma’am?”

“Some of the crew have taken to calling the government here the Party, because they remind some of the ancient Marxist governments of Old Earth.  Oh, not exactly,” she continued, standing up from her seat and coming from behind her desk.  “But the closest analogy we can come up with.”

“It seems to fit,” said Laaksonen, turning to look at her while maintaining the position of attention.  “Or at least what the Soviet Union could have been with what are essentially immortal rulers.”

“Oh, at ease, Gauroi,” ordered Sung, a smile on her face.  “You’ll probably get a medal for your quick thinking.  And maybe a transfer to Intelligence.”

“Oh God, no,” groaned the Commander.  “Anything but that.  I sure as hell don’t want to become some damned Spook.  I’d take a demotion to Lieutenant JG and command of a fast attack craft before I’d let them do that to me.”

“You realize that I spent some years in Intelligence, Commander,” said Sung, her eyes narrowing, while she laughed inside.  If she had it to do over again, she was not sure she would have accepted that decade long assignment.  There was something slimy about working the spy game that line officers didn’t have to deal with.  Necessary slime, but there had been nights when sleep had not come easy.  And now there might be more of those nights in store for her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.  I know that we need spies.  It‘s just that I don’t need to be one.”

“Well, you did a damned fine job subbing for one.  Most intelligence work comes down to waiting for an opportunity and jumping on it when it happens.”  She looked down for a moment, wondering what was going to come out of this information, which had already been transmitted back to the Empire through the wormhole.

“So, we found out, if the Klavarta are telling the truth.  Genocide, slavery, cloning.  I never would have imagined such in my worst nightmare.”

“And will we ally ourselves with such people?”

“I don’t see how,” said Sung, shaking her head.  “I think we will end up with an Imperial decree of mutual aid, but a formal alliance?  I think not.  Which means no tech exchange, no combined operations.”

“They might not take that news very well,” said Laaksonen.

“They might not, and this decision is well above my pay grade.  I’m just glad that I’m not the one who has to make it.”

“Ma’am, came a call over com.  “One of our people had disappeared down on the moon.”

Shit, she thought, staring back at Laaksonen, whose mouth hung open.  And what will the Council learn from my crewperson?

*     *     *

“We have not been able to locate the Klavarta that were involved,” said the Intelligence Officer on the other end of the holo.  “Perhaps we shouldn’t have let the Imperials return to their ship.  I am certain we could get the information we need out of them, given time.”

“And anger the Imperials?” growled Chairwoman Marion Pallion, staring at the face of the Pure in the holo.  “And then we would not get any kind of treaty with them.”  Don’t these idiots see that we must have that treaty.  From what we have learned, the Empire has almost caught up with the Monsters technologically, while all we can do is copy the enemy’s tech when we can get our hands on it.  The Empire will soon be the superior in tech, and we will need that advantage.

“Just a suggestion, ma’am,” said the Officer.  “They are a long way from their home, after all, ma’am.  And only the information that we allow to go back with them will ever get to their leaders.”

“And we won’t know if such a ploy worked till over a year later, you idiot,” screamed Pallion.  “These are humans we are talking about.  Humans, with as much understanding of human physiology and psychology as we have.  They will figure it out, and then we will be doubly damned.”

Pallion stared down at her desk for a moment, thinking, then back up at the Officer.  “Keep a close watch on the Imperials.  I want no more disappearances like this last one.  I will have the heads of the surveillance agents who lose track of any of the Imperials who are visiting our world.  It will not happen again, understand.”

The Officer nodded, his lips tight.  And that may be you if you don’t watch out, thought the Chairwoman.

“And I want those damned treacherous Klavarta found as well.  I will not have them screwing with our chances to have an ally in this war.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I will put every spare agent I can find on that.  We will find out who they are.”

Pallion cut the transmission with a huff of disgust.  The Secret Police and Military Intelligence people were always making promises like this, and never delivering on them.  We’ll just have to put the fear of God in them, so they deliver, she thought, never realizing that operating out of fear of their superiors was one thing they didn’t need more of.

*     *     *

“How bad is it?” asked Jennifer as they sat at the table in one of the many small dining rooms in the palace.  They were alone, allowing them to talk freely without worrying about one of the servants overhearing.  The serving staff, of course, had high clearances, but it was better to be safe than to wake up the next day with news services screaming out to the masses what they had talked about in apparent secrecy the night before.  The room was swept continuously for surveillance devices, like the rest of the palace, and privacy fields were in place.

“About as bad as can be,” he told her, putting his wine glass on the table top.  He didn’t really want to get drunk, and yet he did.  He just wasn’t sure he could get drunk enough, and, if not, why bother?   “To start off with, genocide.  They’ve killed off every intelligent non-human species in their space, so they wouldn’t be betrayed to the Cacas.  They’ve built a short lived slave subspecies of humans.  In fact, they’ve created several specialized subspecies, whose only purpose was to make war.”

“That’s bad enough,” agreed Jennifer, shaking her head.  “But the genocide.”

“Yeah.  We’ll have people wanting to declare war on them as well,” said Sean, grimacing.  “And wouldn’t that be wonderful.  A three way brouhaha, winner take all.”

“Surely it wouldn’t come to that,” exclaimed Jennifer, her hands going to her mouth.

“Oh, it wouldn’t come to that.  We‘re too far from each other for us to engage in any kind of combat, especially with the Cacas in between us.  But full cooperation is out, even without the other complications.”

“Other complications?”

“Well, there’s the fact that their created subspecies are considered a subclass, denied many of the benefits of their society, while being forced to fight for it.  And then there’s the cloning.”

“Cloning?” asked Jennifer, a horrified look on her face.  Sean knew the shock she must be feeling.  Full organism cloning had been outlawed on Old Earth, due to the fact that the, thing, that was produced did not act like a normal human.  No matter how it was raised, or even if it had the memories of a saint loaded into it after creation, it was devoid of empathy.  It became a psychopath, a being devoid of conscience.  A destructive creature that was only out for itself.  Body part cloning was a different prospect.  An arm, leg or kidney didn’t have to have a conscience.

“It was understandable that they had to resort to it,” said Sean, looking into her eyes.  “Otherwise, as far as they knew, the human species was gone.  But no matter the reasoning behind it, it still resulted in a nightmare.”

“And there is really no way of covering this up, is there?”

“I can’t lie to my supporters in Parliament about this,” said the Emperor, shaking his head.  “I would lose any credibility I have with them.  And once we establish wormhole communication with these people, once we are sending people back and forth from our space and theirs, it’s bound to get out.  All of it.”

“Maybe we can talk the present government into giving up their power,” suggested the Empress.  “And a new government could be formed that had no connections to the atrocities.”

“I doubt the old government will go peacefully,” said Sean, reaching for his wine glass to take another sip.  “Remember, the people we are talking about are thinking of number one first and foremost.  They will do what they need to do to insure the survival of their people, but only as long as it ensures their own position.”

“Isn’t there something we could do to, push them into change?””

“That’s something I really didn’t want to think about.  But yes, there might be something we can do.  The problem is, will I be able to live with myself if I do?”

“You’ll do what you have to,” said his wife, getting up from her seat, walking around the table and putting her arms around her husband.  “And I’ll stand with you no matter what.”

“Then I guess I’ll go ahead and get the operation rolling,” said Sean, putting his hand on the one of hers that was across his chest.  With a thought he connected with the palace secure com system.  “Get me Director Sergiov, immediately.”  A moment later the Director of the Imperial Intelligence Agency was on the link.  “You have authorization, Ekaterina.  Get your operation together, but wait for my go ahead.”

He sat there for a minute in thought, then made the final decision.  “And I need someone I trust on the pointed end of the operation, Ekaterina.  I know he isn’t going to like it, but I know just the man for the job.”

Chapter Eighteen

When soldiers have been baptized in the fire of a battlefield, they have all one rank in my eyes.

Napoleon Bonaparte

NEW MOSCOW:  MAY 21ST, 1002.

“Do you understand your orders, Captain?” asked Lt. General Samuel Baggett.

“I understand what they are, sir,” replied Cornelius Walborski.  “I really don’t understand why I was chosen to escort prisoners through the wormhole gate network.  It would seem to me that you could just detail some heavy infantry for this kind of escort mission, and leave me where I belong, out in the brush.”

“I don’t know why you were selected, Captain,” growled Bagger, staring into the Ranger’s eyes.  “The orders came down from high command, and I’ll leave it to you to guess at the ultimate origin of those orders.”

The Emperor, thought Walborski, reading the face of the General and noting that the senior officer was no more comfortable with what was going on than he was.

“And what’s going to happen to these Cacas, sir?”

“I didn’t expect that you would care all that much for the bastards.”

“I really don’t care about them,” said Cornelius, holding back the anger that wanted to come rushing out.  “But I gave the ones I captured my word that they would not be harmed.”

“And that promise was not one you should have given,” said Baggett, more sorrow than anger on his face at the moment.  “I know.  It’s something we’re expected to promise prisoners.  But it’s also a promise we really don’t have the authority to make.  So get your team ready.  You will sign for the prisoners tomorrow morning, and will escort them to the Fleet Research Installation on Space Station Alpha Three One, in orbit around the planet Forge.  There you will await further instructions.”

“And no hint of what’s going on here?”

“None, Captain.  You must realize by now that you belong to the Empire in general, and the Imperial Army in particular.  Just like myself.  They will send you where they want, when they want.  And they will expect obedience, even at the cost of your life.   Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Cornelius, straightening to the position of attention.

“Understand this, Captain.  You are the ultimate fighting machine, and one I am proud to command.  But you have a tendency to cowboy it.  Go off your own and do your own thing.  Been known to accomplish great things when you do that, but the Army needs you to be part of the team.   The Emperor expects great things from you.  I agree.  But you must follow orders, sometimes to the letter.  Sometimes with some initiative.  Just like you are going to depend on the men and women under you to do the same.”

Cornelius really didn’t like going through these combination pep talks and dressing down.  But when a three star general decided they wanted to lay down the law, there was nothing to do but stand there and listen.

“Now, go get some rest, meet your team, and be prepared to carry out the mission at sunrise local time.  Dismissed.”

Cornelius found his team waiting for him in one of the temp quarters the Army had established on the planet.  It was a good team, twenty Rangers, including some of the men he had recently commanded.  And a dozen Naval Commandos for good measure.  All had heard the same thing, that they were going to escort prisoners, then report to a research base for mission training.   All had curious looks on their faces, questions that the Captain could not answer, because he didn’t know himself.

The next morning they gathered on a field next to the wormhole portal they were going to use.  A hundred Cacas were there as well, their hands and feet bound in shackles, muzzles over their snouts.  There were many confused looks, some glaring anger, some fear.  Cornelius was sure that the aliens had been told nothing.  That was a state of affairs that was sure to hold until they got to the research facility.

The portal had been enlarged to handle the size of the Cacas.  The field, which was normally crowded with people coming and going from the planet was empty with the exception of Cornelius’ team and the company of heavy infantry that guarded the prisoners and kept bystanders away.  Walborski signed for the prisoners, was given the travel plan uploaded into his link, and motioned toward the portal.

It took seven transits to get to the station, where the prisoners were taken out of his custody and his men were given quarters.  Meanwhile, the Captain was brought to a briefing room and filled in on the mission.  He left with a horrified expression on his face, a feeling of impending doom, and a wish that he had never met the Emperor.

*     *     *

JEWEL.

Captain Ishuhi Rykio still didn’t feel all that comfortable walking into the same room as what they had come to call the Yugalyth Queen.  The creature gave him the creeps.  He was told that was a normal reaction to a thing that basically ate biomass, converting it to its own, then mimicking the creature it had ingested.  The Yugalyth had a filthy feel to them, one that seemed to rub off on those who had to deal with them.

And here I am, walking in to talk to this Queen, this time to enlist its aid.  And I won’t be telling it the entire truth, once again.  Just another day in Fleet Intelligence, and one of the reasons I opted out to become an honest cop.

“Welcome, Ishuhi Rykio,” said the large creature as one of its numerous eyes spotted him, followed by dozens more.  It had changed its configurations several times since its capture, each more unsettling than the last.  “You have news for me.”

All of its Children had been removed from its custody and placed in isolation.  They had been poked, prodded, and analyzed.  Some had been put down, and taken apart to the molecular level to determine what made them tick.  It had been especially important to find out how to scope them out in their mimic configurations, before they started their attacks on Imperial society once again.

“We have need of your services,” said the Captain, stopping just out of reach of the creature’s pseudopods and looking up at the disconcerting sight of dozens of eyes staring at him.  “We need a score of you as agents for an important operation.”

“And you will trust my, Children?”

“Let’s just say that they will receive some provisional trust.  They will be well monitored, and under the direction of our operatives.”

“Then take all of the Children that you need.  I am sure they will cooperate with you.  And I have no way of influencing them once they have separated from me.  They are their own creatures at this point, with their own sense of self preservation.”

“I didn’t think that you had much of that instinct,” said Rykio.  “Your kind has carried out enough suicide attacks.”  But they were programed by others of your kind, ones who were not quite so suicidal.  After all, the research had shown them much about the psychology of these creatures.

“My Children would have enough, since they have been separated from me for months.  If you want obedient operatives, you will have to let me grow them, or let the ones you have separated from me grow them, if you can convince them to do your bidding.”

“How about if you grow them for us?”

“I would be glad to.  I just need sufficient biomass to convert, and genetic samples of the targets you wish me to mimic.”

“And how long will it take to mimic some large creatures?”

“How large” asked the Mother, all of the pupils in its many eyes dilating.

“Ca’cadasan size.”

“You want me to duplicate those creatures?”

“Exactly.  That is what we need.  And if you want to be our friend, you will do this one little thing for us.”

“And after that I can have my freedom?”

The Captain laughed, not taking his eyes off the dangerous creature.  “I don’t think so.  But you will be given some more in the way of, let us say, luxuries.”

“And what more could I ask for?” said the creature, mimicking the laugh of the Captain.  “I have shelter, food, interesting conversation.  The best medical care I could ask for, even if its purpose is to figure out how to find and destroy my kind.”

“We’ll figure something out, if you are agreeable.”

“I can do it, but it will take some more days than normal to build the basic bodies.  Then a few more days to program them to mimic the Ca’cadasans.  I assume that you do want them to pass themselves off as, what do you call them in your delightful slang, Cacas?”

“That would be nice.  And we need them as soon as possible.”

“And will they be coming back from this mission?”

“We will do everything we can to make sure they return.  But I will not lie to you.”  At least about this part.  “This is an extremely hazardous mission, and many of our human operatives may not return.”

The creature continued to look at him, and he could tell by the dilation of the pupils that it really didn’t trust what he was saying.  Wise creature.  But will it do what we need, or will we have to alter whatever operation this is, lowering the chances for success.  That’s what it all came down to, chances of success, weighed against chances of survival.

“Very well.  I will do it.  Maybe this will prove to you that we can be trusted.  That we can be on your side.”

And I’ll believe that about the same time I start believing in garden fairies, thought the Intelligence Officer as he left the chamber.  Now all we have to do is to figure out what your game is, and what we have to do to make you do what we want regardless of your own motivations.

*     *     *

“He was our best chance at getting the target, Countess,” said the man, sitting in the chair in the secure office under Zhee’s palace.  “Not only was he the best man for the job, the premier assassin in the Empire, but now that he’s failed, the target is too closely guarded to risk another attempt.”

“I understand that no professional would want to take what would amount to a suicide mission,” said Zhee, her eyes looking at the shadow shrouded crime boss.  She really didn’t understand why the man insisted on these theatrics.  She had seen him before.  Anyone that knew his name could look up his public record, including his past offenses and incarcerations.  “Couldn’t you use a programed assassin, like the one that took out the late Emperor and his family?”

“And how do you think we are going to sneak such a person into close proximity of the target?” asked the Crime Lord.  “Everyone in the security detail is deep scanned on a weekly basis.  When Augustine was killed, they were doing monthly checks, and increased them when someone who had been cleared was the obvious assassin.  They’ve also improved the scanning process.  Give us a couple of months, and we might be able to do something.  But outside of those time constraints, not a chance.”

Zhee cursed and shook her head.  I need that boy dead and gone, and his bitch of a wife with him.  Everything else is in place, and this might be my last chance.

“Well, get it set up as fast as you can.  And that brings us to the next point of discussion.  Angel betrayed me.  He failed to carry out the hit, even though he had the opportunity to do so.  I want his ass dead.”

“He’s taken out everyone we’ve sent after him,” said the Boss, holding out his hands.  “The only survivors were the few he let live on the first team.  I was just about to call off the dogs and let him go, before he decides he wants to take me out as well.  If I were you, I would let him be.”

“And I’m not about to let someone who might know I’m involved in an attempt on the Emperor walk the streets of the capital.  I want him dead.  He’s only one man.  You’ve got a large organization, so I expect you to use your power to take him out.  That’s if you want to have me on your side when I get control of the government.”

“I’ll send another team after him.  But even if we find him, I don’t think my men will be able to take him.  The only hope we have is to surprise him, and I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Just do it,” hissed Zhee.  “No more excuses.”

The Boss got up from his seat without saying a word, his eyes averted from the woman who knew too much about him.  The trusted servant met him in the hall, to escort him to the secret tunnel that led away from the manor.  No one had ever seen the man enter her dwelling, and no one ever would.  And after he accomplished his task, she would make sure that he and his organization didn’t trouble her any more.  After all, she had an image to retain, and a reputation to protect.  It wouldn’t do for the future prime minister to be known for having mob connections, so those would have to be severed.

*     *     *

“We should be ready to go in three weeks, your Majesty,” said Ekaterina Sergiov over the com.  She really didn’t like the idea of pulling a black op halfway around the Galaxy.  And against a possible ally at that.  Not that she didn’t see the necessity of it, but it still bothered her.  “That will give you some time to think it over.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to change my mind, Ekaterina,” said Sean in a voice that told the tale of his fatigue.  “I don’t see any other way to end this nightmare, and gain us the ally we need.”

“It’s your call, sir,” said the Director.  “It’s not one I would want to make.  And it’s definitely not one I want to be pulled up in front of Parliament to testify about.”

“That last won’t happen, Ekaterina,” said Sean.  “I think I can guarantee that.”

Yeah.  By letting me retire, then granting me an Imperial pardon for the crime of withholding a black op from the Oversight Committee.  Not really the way I would want to go out.

“And any word on Walborski?” asked the Emperor.

“Just that he’s not happy with the assignment,” said Sergiov, leaving out the word either.

“But what’s your opinion of him?  Would he make a good operative?”

“He has the aptitude, your Majesty.  And he ended up on the far end of the augmented Bell curve.  As to whether or not his heart will ever be in it?   I wouldn’t think so.  Whether or not he will do his duty to the best of his ability?  I would count on it.”

“So we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we,” said Sean with a sigh.  “I almost hate to do this to someone I call a friend.  But that’s the problem, Ekaterina.  I really can’t afford to have any real friends.  Not when my orders might send them to their deaths.”

The holo went blank, the Emperor terminating the transmission without another word.  Ekaterina turned away from the desk, considering how so many people in the Empire wished they could be in his position.  She wouldn’t take the job for the Universe.  Hers was bad enough, and the only reason she still did it was because she was so good at it.

Chapter Nineteen

It’s always been a great survival value for people to believe they belong to a superior tribe. That’s just in human relationships.

E. O. Wilson.

NEW EARTH, MAY 22ND, 1002.

“So, when will you send a ship back to your Empire to report on this contact?” asked Chairwoman Pallion, steepling her fingers and looking over them at Commodore Sung.

Natasha wasn’t sure how to answer that question.  So far they had kept the secret of their wormhole link back to the Empire.  She wasn’t really sure what benefit that was to them, since the Klavarta kingdom had no way of duplicating the technology except the old fashioned way, building their own massive power generation facility and discovering how to use that energy to open the holes.  They couldn’t steal the wormholes the Imperials had brought along, since they all led to secure facilities in the Empire, and would be of no use to the locals.  And the only way to get more wormholes here, especially both ends, which would be the only holes that would be useful to the Klavarta in their war, was by shipping them here on vessels.

“I’m almost afraid to send less than my total command back, Madame Chairman,” she told Pallion, which was the truth in a manner of speaking.  “I would have to send at least two ships, in case something happened to one of them, or they needed to support each other in a fight.”

“Your other ship is welcome to stay, then.  But I think it’s important that your Empire knows that we are here, and what we have to offer.”

“Which is?”

“Why, our fleet, in battle beside your own.  Tech exchange, the combination of our scientific research programs with the focus of defeating the Monsters.  And the joy of reuniting with your brothers and sisters after two thousand years apart.”

“All that is well and good, but it’s outside of my authority to make any kind of a deal.  And sending a ship back, and then getting one to come all of this way with the answer of the Emperor and Parliament, would take more than two years.”

“Then you should get moving to send one or more vessels back.  Two years is a long time, but it would seem that neither of our nations is in danger of imminent defeat.  However, we cannot wait forever.”

Natasha sat there for a moment, trying to come up with a believable answer.  The Emperor said I need to delay for two to three weeks.  But delay for what?

“I don’t see why your Emperor sent you all the way out here to find us, and didn’t give you the authority to make some kind of treaty,” said the Chairwoman, a scowl on her face.  “Unless…”  The woman stared at her for a few moments.  “Unless, you were given that authority, but harbor some reservations.”

“Perhaps I should just leave on the morrow,” said Sung quickly, concerned at where this train of thought was taking the Chairwoman.  “We could take all three ships, giving us the best chance of getting through, then come back with a fleet.”

The Chairwoman narrowed her eyes, and Natasha was sure that she hadn’t liked the part about bringing back a fleet.  A professional paranoid.  No matter what I say, she’ll see something wrong and make an assumption.

“A fleet,” said the Chairwoman in a hushed voice, confirming the Commodore’s suspicions.  “And no, I don’t think it a good idea that all of your ships return.  We would like for one of your ships to stay.  At least the one, so we can continue to get to know each other better.”

And as long as we are in your system, and under the superior firepower of her fleet, we’re trapped.  But what it really comes down to is I need to have all of my ships, and more importantly, all of my wormholes in the system for whatever operation the Emperor is planning.  And hopefully he will let me in on it before we actually have to do anything.

This was not what she had expected to find when she had started out on this mission.  It had been hoped that they would find an alien power that they could ally with.  Or even help to feed on the knowledge that both of them were not alone, that there was someone else fighting the big bastards as well.  Finding other humans had been beyond anyone’s expectations.  That had seemed to be the best of both worlds, until they had found out just how evil the bastards were.

“We need more time to think about what kind of message we will send to our Emperor,” she said, hoping it would be enough to buy them some time.

“And I wonder what that message would be, if you were to dispatch your ships on the morrow,” said Pallion with a cold smile.  “Maybe it would be best if you waited to send that message, so we can forge a greater understanding of each other.”

“I think that would be best,” agreed Sung with relief.

“And I would like to invite more of your people down to the surface of the moon,” said the Chairwoman, trying to morph her cold smile into one that portrayed some warmth, and failing.  “I think it would help us to get to understand each other better.  Forge friendships, build bridges.”

And you are the consummate politician, aren’t you? thought Sung, nodding as if in agreement.  And she has me.  I either let more of my people go down to the surface, where they can be used as hostages.  Or I refuse, and what happens next?

She thought about just pulling her squadron out of the system, but if Pallion decided to not let her go, she really didn’t have a chance of escape.  Not with the Klavarta home fleet in the system, with enough firepower to reduce her squadron to plasma.  There was no way her force could run for it with any chance of success.  Her ships were made for the long haul.  They had the top end speed to outrun just about any known vessel, but they were slow in getting there.  They would be at a disadvantage in getting to the hyper barrier, and she had no doubt that the Klavarta ships would catch her just as quickly in hyper, if she even had a hope of getting them to the barrier.

“We’ll work out a schedule that will allow much of my off duty crew to come down to the planet and accept your hospitality.  And thank you.”

She played me like a fool, thought Sung as she headed out of the office, walking toward the lift that would take her to the rooftop landing pad.  But what choice did I have?  None that she could think of.

She thought of other alternatives on the shuttle flight back up to her ship, but could come up with none.  “Get me the captains of the other ships on the com,” she ordered when her shuttle was still minutes away from the Nina.  “I want them aboard Nina within the hour.  We need to have a discussion about what we’re going to do here.”

*      *      *

Thallia Thrann woke with a start as her com went off, pulling her from a deep sleep.  She looked at the ID and sucked in a breath on seeing who it was.  What in the hell would she be calling me about at this hour.  Of course, with the length of the day on the planet, and the human need for rest more than once every ninety hours, and people tended to sleep when they could, around the clock.  She had tried to coordinate her schedule with that of the Chairwoman, but the Overlords tended to get by with little sleep.

“Yes, Chairwoman,” she said, activating the com.

“I need for you to come in,” said Pallion on the other end of the link.  “I need someone to keep tabs on the Imperials.   I have the suspicion that they are not being forthcoming with us.”

And neither would I, thought Thrann, her heart fluttering for a moment.  In fact, she hadn’t been completely forthcoming with the Chairwoman either.  “I will be right in, Chairwoman.”

The com died, and Thallia sat up in bed.  She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then went to her closet, opened the hidden compartment in the wall, and pulled out a one time com.

“Something is happening,” she told the being on the other side of the com.  “I think we need to meet.  In twelve hours.”

*      *      *

“I have a bad feeling about these Imperials,” said Jiang Zhou, looking across the table at the Chairwoman.  “They don’t want an alliance with us.  They are just stalling for time, hoping we will let them go, so they can return to their home.”

“And then their Empire will know of our existence, and the risk of disclosure to the Monsters will increase exponentially,” said Chamai Bhandawa.  “They must not be allowed contact with their people, unless we have a guarantee of an alliance, something that will be of benefit to us.”

“They will not be allowed to return if I am not sure of them,” said Pallion, glaring at the holo image of one of the Imperial ships.

“And how can we ever be sure of them?” asked Ivan Ikanov, shaking his head.  “They could lie to us, tell us what we want to hear.  Then run back to their masters with information on us.  Maybe even organize a force to attack us, so that their leaders can rule more humans.”

“They are at war with the Monsters,” said Kamiko Hayashi.  “They don’t have the time to attack us.  Or the resources.”

“So they say,” shouted Ikanov, slapping the table, then standing up to lean over it, staring at the small woman.  “They could be lying.  They could be in an entirely different part of space than they claim, with a fleet gathering to sweep in and crush us.”

Hayashi returned the glare with no fear of the big Russian.  After all, what could the man do to her.  Even if he killed her, a new body would be up and running before the week was out, with all of her memories up to her last daily upload in place.  They were immortal, after all, weren’t they?

Not if someone comes in and destroys all of our bodies, and our memory uploads, thought Pallion.  Security for those resources was tight, and there was really no way for that anyone, even a Council Member, could threaten the body of another Member.  But if some other power were to discover the capital, and come sweeping in to destroy the entire infrastructure of the moon?

“You are a paranoid fool,” screamed Hayashi, getting to her feet.  “Why in the hell would anyone hatch such an elaborate scheme?”

“To catch us off guard,” yelled Ikanov back, his eyes wild, spittle flying from his lips.  “How do we even know that they have a kingdom of their own?  How do we know that the Monsters didn’t save enough humans to plan this kind of deception?”

“Then they would have to know that we exist,” said Rajani Dasgupta, sitting calmly in her chair, her steady gaze taking in both of her angry colleagues.  “And that is unlikely.”

“It seems unlikely to us,” hurled Ikanov back at her.  “But we have been playing this game of deception for a long time.  Who knows what the Monsters might have discovered in that time.”

“I doubt these people are connected with the Monsters,” said Pallion, wanting to regain control of the meeting.  “I admit we don’t really know a lot about them.  But this would seem kind of an elaborate deception, even for the Monsters.  I think if they knew who we really were, and where we were, they would just bring in a fleet and try and smash us.”

“Well, thank the Universe that they don’t know where we are,” said Willard Smyth in the English accent he had not lost over the centuries and multiple bodies.

That is a hope all of us have, thought the Chairwoman.  But she wondered if it was reality, or if the Monsters did in fact already know where they were.  If so, it really didn’t matter if these humans had a connection to the Ca’cadasans or not.

“I say we need to arrest all of these so called Imperials,” roared Ikanov, slamming his fist down on the table.  “We need to incarcerate them, interrogate them, and take apart their ships to learn what we can about their tech.  Whether it’s Ca’cadasan or not.”

Pallion looked at the man, wondering if she should have him arrested.  She looked around the table and wondered if some of the others should join him.  It was something she had thought about for years, but the paranoia of the Council Members worked against her.  All had their fail-safes in place, as did she.  All had their private armies ready to strike in their defense.  Trying to arrest and supplant a Council Member would lead to a civil war, and if there were enough of them against her she was not sure she could win.

“It is my decision that the Imperials will not be molested, for the moment,” she said in the sternest tone she could generate.  “I believe it would be a mistake to alienate them at this point.  At least until we can learn more about them.”

“Can we are least grab one, or maybe a couple of them?” asked Ikanov, sitting back in his chair and again speaking in a normal tone.  “I am sure I could get the information out of them.”

The man’s face took on an expression that frightened even someone as hardened as Pallion, and she would not have wished to under his control for any amount of time.  “They only travel in groups.  Do you really think you could spirit one away out from under the noses of the others?”

“They have to be alone sometime,” said the man with a cold smile.  “Leave it to me.”

“Very well.  Get your subject.  But make sure it’s done without a hitch.   I can probably stall the Imperials for a while if they don’t have solid evidence that we have kidnapped one of their people.  But if they do find out, I will make sure that you are the one held responsible.  At least for the show trial.”

Everyone at the table laughed at that.  There really was nothing the Imperials could do if the Council decided to do anything to them.  Pallion wanted to stay on their good side, but it was more important to figure out what they were up to.  And of course they would never really find out what happened to their crewmember.  They might have their suspicions, but that’s all they would be.

*     *     *

“Welcome aboard, Polasar,” said Commander Laaksonen in greeting as the Klavarta Alpha came aboard the Nina, exiting from shuttle that was returning from delivering crew to the surface of the moon and bringing back some others for their duty shifts.

“Thank you, Commander,” said the Klavarta, reaching out a hand that was still phasing in and out of sight.

“You might want to turn off your invisibility field,” said the Exec with a smile.

“Oh,” said the Alpha, his eyes widening.  He fumbled with something under his cloak and the invisibility field snapped off.  “I’m unfamiliar with your equipment, and thought I had turned it off after I had boarded your shuttle.  It’s no wonder your people kept staring at me, and laughing.  I thought they might consider my appearance strange in and of itself.”

“You’re not that strange looking to us,” said Laaksonen with a laugh, glancing back at the big Phlistaran Marine who stood about ten meters to the side.  “In fact, you look downright normal to us.”

“That is so refreshing,” said Polasar, his lips stretching into a smile.  “It is nice to meet a human such as yourself.”

And I hope you still feel that way when we are done here, thought the Exec.  He had been filled in on the mission, at least as much as the Commodore had to give him, and it still bothered him.  They had come here to make new friends and allies, not to mess with their self-determination.  Unfortunately, they really had no self-determination.

“Are you ready?  Or would you like to take some time to refresh yourself?”

“I am ready,” said the Alpha, nodding his head.  “I want you to get the information while it is fresh in my mind.”

“And you realize that mind upload is not the most pleasant experience?” he asked the Alpha.  “Not dangerous.  At least not as long as you don’t resist the process.”  I hope, thought the Exec.  Mind upload, or uplink, was a standard method of imparting information quickly, as well as gathering it.  But they needed to know the psycho-physiology of the mind in question in order to use it, and there could be little or no resistance involved if they wanted a safe and efficient loading.  And frankly, though the Alphas were of modified human stock, the part that worried him was modified.

“I must admit I am a little nervous.  Not that the upload was all that odious, but still not something I would enjoy going through for fun.”

“Then let’s get to it,” suggested Laaksonen, leading the way from the shuttle deck.

The Alpha was seated in the chair in medical to undergo the process while the Exec monitored him, along with the medical staff and an Intelligence specialist.  He monitored some of the information on a viewer as it flowed out of the mind of the messenger.  This is exactly what we need, he thought as he watched images fly across the screen.  It was really too much for him to comprehend in its entirety.  But the snippets he saw were enough to let him know they had what they needed, or at least most of it.

And this is interesting, he thought as the image of Thallia Thrann appeared on the screen for a fleeting moment.  So that’s where the information came from, or at least a portion of it.  So that is the contact within the government.

The Alpha was shown to quarters after the upload, plainly exhausted from his ordeal, while Laaksonen went to talk to the Commodore.  Just before leaving he sent orders to the bridge to transmit their take back to the Empire, where they could use it to plan the operation that no one really wanted to implement.

*     *     *

“This is going to be a hard nut to crack,” said Laaksonen, standing next to the Commodore’s command chair on the bridge.  “I’m not really sure how they’re going to pull it off.”

“And that is not for us to determine, Exec,” said Sung, staring at the holo that showed their general surroundings, the gas giant system and everything in orbit within.  There were a lot of ships on that holo, and many more closer to her command than there had been   Including a squadron of five million ton warships, the largest they had seen to date for the Klavarta, within close proximity to her ships.  There were twelve of the ships, newly arrive to the system, sixty million tons of vessels, that were most probably a match for her three explorers.  “That’s for the Emperor and whomever he puts in charge of the mission to decide.  Now, what do you think is going on out there?”

“Looks to me like they’re making sure we can’t go anywhere without permission,” said Laaksonen, his eyes narrowing.

“That was my thought.  I’m beginning to think that the only way we are leaving this system is if we enforce a change of management.”

“Then it’s a good thing that the change of management is going ahead as planned,” said the Exec.

“So, what did you learn from the messenger?”

“Only that, as I said, this is going to be a hard nut to crack.  These people are as paranoid as any I’ve ever heard of.  There are so many redundant systems to protect their consciousnesses from destruction.  Each had multiple bodies in cryo, fully grown adult bodies.  Kill one of the Council or one of their clone subordinates, and they’ll be walking the streets again before the day is out.”

“I was afraid of that.  Well, something else for command to think about.”  She looked back at the holo, which was showing another group of the five million ton ships, what she was thinking of as small battle cruisers, moving around the curve of one of the other moons, looking to be on a path to eventually enter the orbit of this moon.  “What about their fleet command?”

“Another problem.  While the Klavarta are the battle commanders, the ones with the actual control are more of the clone subordinates, people who were either among the survivors that made it here, or of the next generation aboard the Exodus IV.  Five in total in this system, all with the ability to power up or shut down any ship in the fleet.

“There’s one of them on this station here,” he continued, pointing toward a large space platform in orbit around the moon.  “Another on this space dock.  Two are aboard these modified small battle cruisers.  One is an actual battlewagon, while the other is a small attack craft carrier, similar to our own light fleet carriers, but holding a much larger attack vessel, in the five thousand ton range.”

“What about the other two fleet leaders?” asked Sung, trying to refocus her Exec, who, like most naval combat officers, was always fascinated by ships and weapons.

“One is on the planet, in their ground defense headquarters under this mountain,” said Laaksonen, pointing to a blinking point on the globe of the moon.  He swept the holo out with his hand until it was centered on a large station in the second of the system’s belts.  “The other is out here, where their actual overall fleet headquarters is housed.”

“Crap.  I don’t think command was expecting that.  So we have to take out all of these people at essentially the same time.  Just wonderful.”  Sung sat there, looking at the wide spread of targets.  If they didn’t get all of them, whomever was left would simply shut down any rebellious ships, while activating all the weapons on those they could still trust.  The rebellion side of the operation would be over before it started.

“What did he have to say about the Klavarta?  How many will come in on our side, and how many will they have to fight against?”

“We will probably get a third of them on our side,” said Laaksonen, holding up a hand to hold his Commodore’s protest.  “That’s the bad news.  The good news is about a quarter of them will probably just sit it out.  Among the leadership we can count on about seventy-five percent on our side.”

“Which means that our side will still face considerable resistance, especially if we can’t shut down the loyalist ships.  And what about their ground forces?”

“Their weapons will still work, no matter what happens to the fleet.  So we can expect some ground combat, unless we can take out the top leadership quickly, and not leave anyone around for them to rally behind.  Maybe command might want to rethink this operation,” said Laaksonen in a hushed voice.  “It’s not really something I’m comfortable with.”

Sung looked at her Exec, one who had been chosen as her second in command because of his track record as both a combat officer and an explorer.  Her track had been somewhat different.  She had started off as an intelligence officer, and had run operations, mostly information gathering, in several of the star nations around the Empire.  After over a decade, she had gotten burned out playing in the shadows.  All of her assignments had been at embassies, so she had gotten some skill at diplomacy rubbed off on her.  The Fleet had wanted her to continue in intelligence, but she had requested Exploration Command, with the veiled threat of resigning her commission.  She had even agreed to a reduction in rank so she could serve as a tactical officer on a Command cruiser.

And this was not an operation that she felt particularly comfortable about.  Her government was trying to topple a government through covert military action, supporting a revolution that could not succeed on its own, with a series of attacks that had to go through with pinpoint timing.  All from over thirty thousand light years away.  Of course the wormholes negated much of the distance, but it still added psychological complexity to the operation.

“Ma’am,” came the voice of the Com Officer to interrupt her thought.  “Pinta is reporting that one of their crew has not reported in on schedule, and the team they were with didn’t notice that she was gone until she had been missing for some minutes.”

“How in the hell did that happen?” growled Sung, glaring at the Com Officer as if she were responsible.

“They were in a restaurant, and Ensign Garmin went to use the restroom,” said the Com Officer after listening to the com for a moment.

“Shit.  They were ordered to never allow one of their team to get out of sight.  I don’t care if they have to go to the bathroom, they are to take someone along with them.”  She looked over at Laaksonen.  “Make sure that order gets out to all of our people on the moon, and to everyone before they go down.”

“And what are we going to do about it, Ma’am?” asked the Exec.

“What can we do about it?  Report it to the Council.  And then sit here and listen as they deny having anything to do with it.  And then I’m left with the choice of either going along with their lie, or calling them on it.  Neither of which will do us any good.”

“At least Ensign Garmin knows nothing about this operation,” said Laaksonen.

“But she knows plenty of other things we really don’t want the Council to know.  Like the existence of the wormholes connecting us to the Empire.  Hopefully her psych protocols will let her resist long enough.”  She looked over at the Com Officer.  “We need to let command know immediately that we might have a compromise on our hands.”

The Com Officer nodded and turned back to his board, while Sung looked back at the holo for a moment, then at her Exec.  “I think this operation is going to go off sooner than we planned.  That, or it won’t go off at all.”

*     *     *

SUPERSYSTEM SPACE:  MAY 24TH, 1002.

“And here are our targets,” said the Briefing Officer to the chamber filled with lower ranking officers.  “I know they are widely scattered, and they will be heavily guarded.  But it is imperative that they all be taken simultaneously.”

This is fucking crazy, thought Major Cornelius Walborski, staring in disbelief at the holo.  And I’m just a damned ground pounder, not a Fleet Commando.  How in the hell did I get into something like this?

The promotion had come with the transfer to this special ops unit, which, as far as he knew, was so black it didn’t even have a name.  Cornelius wasn’t sure he had the time in grade to warrant another promotion, but everyone who had transferred in had been bumped up at least one rank, permanently.

And from what I see, none of us have ever done anything like this.  When he asked why he was picked for something like this, with his lack of experience, he was told that these was no one with the experience for something like this.  So they had gotten together a bunch of special ops people, Rangers, Marine Recon, Naval Commandos, and a number of operatives from the intelligence services.  As far as he could tell, everyone on this op was augmented.  And all had some military training, if not exactly the kind he would have thought necessary for an operation on spaceships and stations.  The only parts that weren’t in space, on planets, were either in underground complexes or dense cities.

“And what if we aren’t able to carry all of the targets at once?” asked a man wearing the comets of a Naval Commando, the rank insignia of a full commander on his left collar.  “I don’t know about the planners of this, thing, but my experience is that nothing ever goes according to plan, and timetables are made to be broken.”

“If everything goes according to plan,” said the young looking woman standing at the front of the room, “then we carry off the operation without significant loss, always a worthy objective.  If things go into the crapper, then that is why we have people like you carrying out the mission.  We have faith that you will do whatever it takes to win.”

Meaning that we’re here to shed whatever blood is needed to nourish a victory, thought Cornelius, shaking his head.

“Once we have taken out the targets, it is expected that the Klavarta will rebel against their remaining government,” continued the Briefing Officer.

Expected, thought Cornelius.  And if it doesn’t go off, as expected, we will be dead meat.  Unless we have a fleet waiting to enter the system.

“We are scheduled to go in two weeks.  I know that’s not a lot of time, but it’s probably all Commodore Sung’s squadron has before the Klavarta government starts demanding action from us.”

And I think it would take two months just to prepare us to work in space, and another two months to learn how to use all of this special equipment they have for us to use.  He wasn’t really sure how much he agreed with the use of some of that equipment.  After all, he had made promises, and he didn’t think what command had in mind was really in the spirit of those promises.

Chapter Twenty

Death solves all problems - no man, no problem.

Joseph Stalin.

NEW EARTH SPACE.

“I am sorry, Commodore,” said Chairwoman Pallion, her cold face looking out over the holo.  “We have found no trace of your crewwoman.”

And why don’t I believe you are being completely honest with me? thought Sung, fighting to keep a neutral expression on her face.  “I wish you would take me up on my offer to use my own people to aid in the search, Madam Chairwoman.”

“And again, I must refuse,” said the Chairwoman.  “Until we can find out who is behind this, crime, I must insist that we put no more of your people in danger.”

And now that you have your subject for interrogation, you don’t want a bunch of us wandering on the surface of your moon, trying to develop our own intelligence.  We have to play your game, for the moment.

“I am so sorry that this has happened, Commodore.  But rest assured that we will get to the bottom of this.”

This is like something out of a bad vid, where everyone knows who the bad guys are, but they still act as if everything is, good.  And this bitch is like a caricature of a bad guy.  “I know you are doing everything in your power to find Ensign Garmin, and I appreciate your efforts, and concern.”  And if you believe that, you are just as gullible as I am pretending to be.

“And when will your ship leave for your Empire?”

“I would still like to take all of my ships with me, Madam Chairwoman.  It would increase our likelihood of making it home.”

“And that is why I must now insist that you leave two of your ships here,” said Pallion.  “We still have so much to learn from you.”

And you want to retain your hostages, thought Sung, her eyes narrowing.  She caught herself before her face betrayed her.  And two of them is it?  Like one ship of hostages won’t do.  “Then I plan to leave in two weeks.   I must make sure that the ship I send knows all of my thoughts.”

“Then you will not be going yourself?”

“This is my squadron, and I should stay with the bulk of it, Madam Chairwoman.”

“Very well.  I must get back to the business of running the government, and the war.  It’s a never-ending task, but someone has to do it.”

The holo died, leaving Sung to sit with her own thoughts.  After a moment she activated the ship com and reached the engineering section.

“Ma’am,” came the acknowledgement of Commander Alexandru Ionesco.

“How goes it, Commander.  Will everything be ready in time?”

“All of the wormhole gates will be ready within the next couple of days, ma’am.  I know you didn’t specify that they be ready until a couple of days before the op, but I would rather be too early than too late.”

“But we’ll still be able to use the com to contact the Empire?”

“No, problem, ma’am.  The gates will be minimized within the ship until we actually need to deploy them.  I just wish we had more of the little guys.”

Each of the ships had a pair of wormholes aboard, a primary for both com and to bring supplies aboard, and a secondary that was inside engineering to refuel the ship if necessary.  A total of six wormholes, and they couldn’t bring more into the system unless it was brought across the thirty thousand light years by another ship.

“We’ll just have to make do with what we have,” Sung told the Chief Engineer of the squadron.  “At least they’ll help us bring across what we need to carry out the op.  A few years ago even that wouldn’t be possible.”

She didn’t know if that would be enough, but it was still better than anyone else had ever had.

*     *     *

They are lying to us, thought Chairwoman Pallion as the holo faded.  Fair enough, since we are lying to them as well.  But I know the truth behind my own lies, and not behind theirs.

“Chairwoman,” came a voice she recognized as one of her interrogators over the intercom.  “We have found out something from the prisoner that might be of interest.”

“I expected some more time to pass before you could get anything useful out of her,” said Pallion, staring at the holo that sprang to life over her desk, showing her the Interrogator and his subject, sitting in a restraining chair with leads attached to her head and body.

“Her conditioning is very good,” said the Interrogator.  “I wasn’t sure I was going to get anything but surface thoughts out of her without tearing apart her mind to force the information.  I’m still little beyond her surface thoughts, but there were some things there which she seemed a little, shall we say, preoccupied with.  Or maybe a better way of thinking about it is these thoughts were something to do with her day to day job, so there were multiple thousands of traces through her brain.  Either way…”

“What’s the damned information, you fool?” yelled Pallion, clenching her fists.  While the man was undoubtedly good at his job, his obsession with it made him tend to blather.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said the man with a sheepish smile.  “Wormholes.”

“Wormholes?” asked Pallion, feeling confused and wondering if the man was still blathering.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“Wormholes are…”

“I know what wormholes are, you idiot,” she screamed, wishing she had the man in the room so she could hit him.  She stood there staring at the holo as the shocked man looked back.  Of course she knew what wormholes were, though it took a moment to pull up the memory in her organic brain, which then tapped into the computer database through her implant.  The information flowed into her consciousness, establishing new, augmented connections that would allow her complete access at any time in the future.

What the hell do wormholes have to do with anything? she thought as she quickly scanned what her people knew about the phenomenon.  Did they discover a wormhole that puts them closer to us?  That could be a problem.  Or possibly a benefit.  But which?

“From what I could gather from the surface thoughts, and the images that went with it, they have figured out how to generate wormholes.  Look.”  The holo changed views, this time showing what looked like the engineering spaces of a ship.  And in that space was a mirrored surface in a frame.  The view had the kind of intense clarity and dreamlike blurring of memories, a combination that seemed incongruous to those who weren’t familiar with the process.

“I’m not sure of all the ramifications of this tech, but if they can bring along a wormhole that leads back to their own space…”

If they can generate wormholes, and use them to communicate, then they are already in contact with their government, thought Pallion with a sinking feeling.  So that’s their lie.

“That’s, useful, information, Interrogator.  But not enough.  I want you to continue with your extraction, concentrating on the keyword wormholes.  I want to know everything she knows about them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pallion cut the connection before the man could waste any more of her time.  Taking a seat behind her desk she brought up the holo again, this time centering on the command ship of the Imperial exploration squadron.  So, whatever you know about us, your government already does as well.  So what’s to stop me from taking your ship, so that only the information we want gets back to your precious Emperor?  She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head.  There was no way she could take any of those ships before they could get off a message about her actions to home.  Destroy them, yes, if her agents took the proper actions.  But would that get her what she wanted?

Probably not.  What we need is an alliance, and material and tech aid.  And if we could learn how to make wormholes?  Then we would have instantaneous com and the ability to move fleets through hundreds of light years in the blink of an eye.  She thought on those possibilities for a moment, and another one came to her.  If the Empire could be weakened enough during the war with the Monsters, couldn’t they also be taken down, and added to her own kingdom.  That would be a long term goal worthy of an immortal, which for all intents and purposes she was.  Why not.  A trillion more humans added to my nation, with all of that industrial might, and wormhole tech.  We would have to eliminate the filthy aliens they harbor.  I could never trust their kind, and I don’t understand how these humans have made that mistakes.  Non-humans are always untrustworthy, the filthy creatures.

Pallion studied the holo for another moment, thinking of possibilities.  She considered having operatives plant antimatter weapons on the hulls, taking out all of the ships in an instant.  But then how would she keep a wormhole for her own use, which was also a priority.  Unless I can get people on board without them knowing.  As long as we can get to the wormholes and secure them, then we can take the rest of the ships at our leisure.

“Get me General Klein,” she told the com, then waited while the Pure human officer came onto the holo.

“Ma’am,” said the officer, who looked much too young to be the Supreme Commander of all ground forces of the Klavarta nation.  That happened when they kept death at bay by the act of continually cloning and uploading to new bodies.

“I have a mission for your special ops, General.  It’s a difficult one, but I’m sure not beyond your resources.”

She outlined her plan, and the officer stood in the holo in silent thought.

“And how much time do I have to plan this takeover?”

“I know it takes time to put something like this together,” said Pallion.  “But I need it done yesterday.  So let us say, one week.”

“I think we can put something together in that time frame, Director,” said the General with a frown.  “I can’t guarantee that there won’t be casualties.”

And if we get the wormholes, that really won’t matter.   “Kill every single one of them if you have to.  Just get me what I want.”

*     *     *

CAPITULU, JEWEL.

Why won’t that bitch leave me in peace? thought Angel as he poured particle beam fire into the last of the men who had come to take him out.  The hitman’s body converted into superheated steam as the fast moving protons slammed into his matter, boring deep into the tissues before converting their kinetic energy into extreme heat that totally disrupted the biomatter of the target.  It was like the disintegrator beam out of ancient scifi, except that it didn’t actually make the matter go away without a trace.  Mass had to go somewhere, and a body was made of mostly water, so steam, contaminated with the other elements of the body, was the logical result.

Angel played the beam over the body, his intent to leave nothing behind but that steam and the ash of bone, none of it containing the slightest remnant of proteins, including the DNA.  There were three other bodies in the apartment, the others of the hit team who had tried to take out a man more dangerous than the four of them together.  He would deal with their bodies in a moment, as soon as he was done with his last kill.  Checking his pistol, he saw the warning lights on both the proton store and the batteries were red.  He would need to replenish both before he could deal with all of the bodies.  That was not a problem, as his suit carried plenty of both.

I understand that she doesn’t want her part in the assassination revealed, he thought, shaking his head, then raising the visor of his suit to protect himself from the rising steam.  Doesn’t she realize I’m a professional, and would, under ordinary circumstances, never reveal an employer’s information to the authorities.  I guess that means these are no longer ordinary circumstances.

Angel went to work on the next body, thinking about the problem as he converted what had been a human being to its basic constituents.  The authorities were always a problem, but one that he had always been able to stay ahead of.  Adding another nemesis to the equation increased the problem exponentially.  Which meant that one or the other of the pursuing forces would eventually get him.

Which means I have to get rid of one of those forces.  And since I can’t get rid of Imperial Law Enforcement, that leaves the Countess.  But first I need to contact someone.

*     *     *

“I’d like to bring you in, Mr. Martinez,” said Director Ekaterina Sergiov into the secure com.  She was glancing at a holo screen that showed the efforts of her technicians to trace the call.  Nodes were linking up, looking as if they were going to reach the point of origin, when they hit a blank wall.  The trace started over again at her com node and started to work its way out again, only to again run into a dead end.  I’ve never seen a com system with such advanced anti-tracking, she thought, scowling at the holo.  Her people had the most advanced com tracking systems in the known Galaxy, but whatever it was that Martinez was using, it was a generation more advanced.

“I’m not sure I can trust you, Director,” said Angel.  “How do I know you won’t just have me arrested?  I really don’t want to end up in jail.”

“I think I can guarantee that,” said Ekaterina, knowing that even if she couldn’t, it would be what she would say.  And Martinez had to know it.  “You have skills that we can use, Mr. Martinez.”

“And the Emperor is just going to forget that I had him and his Empress in my sights?”

“You didn’t fire, which has to go in your favor.  But no, I really don’t expect he’s going to forget it, which is why this would have to be buried inside of a black op so obscure he wouldn’t be likely to pay attention to it.”

“I’ll have to think about that, Director.  And I have to be going.  I know my system is hard to trace.  And I also know that given enough time you will trace it.  Which means I have to go.  But remember what I told you about who was behind this.”

“I need more than your word about who did it before I can act.  I…”

“If you don’t do something about her, I will.  And when I’m done, she won’t be a bother for anyone else.”

“Wait,” yelled Sergiov, but the com was already dead.

“Get me the Chief Justice on the com,” she said into the air, knowing that her request would be transmitted to that man in an instant.

“This had better be important, Director,” came the voice of the man who sat at the head of the Imperial Supreme Court, the highest judicial post in the Empire.  “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, Chief Justice, but I didn’t think this could wait until morning.  You know that surveillance warrant I asked for just the other day?   I need an upgrade to house and office search.”

“I hope you have enough probable cause to allow for such a warrant, Director.  If not, there’s going to be hell to pay with Parliament.”

A moment later the warrant came in over the com, and Sergiov soon had it transmitted to all the Imperial Law Enforcement Agencies, calling for a special task force to investigate Countess Esmerelda Zhee.

*     *     *

KLAVARTA SPACE:  MAY 27TH, 1002.

“We are thirty-nine hours Galactic Absolute Time from entry into the target system, my Lord,” said the Chief of Staff, approaching the Great Admiral’s command chair.

Or about fourteen hours ship’s time, thought the Great Admiral, looking over at the tactical holo.  For the moment that plot only showed his own ships.  This was one of the relatively quiet periods of the voyage, when the fleet was not under one of the numerous stinging hits launched by the enemy.

That enemy was still out there.  As soon as any number of ships were within striking distance, they would strike.  He was also sure that they had sent some ships ahead to their home system, the target, to warn of their coming.

For all the good it will do them, thought the large male, a carnivore’s smile stretching his snout.  His fleet had been plowing ahead through hyper VII at just a smidgeon above point nine six light.  At such a velocity, there was some radiation getting past the forward electromag shields.  Fortunately, since very few of the crew needed to work in that section, and they could be rotated back for nanite treatment for the radiation they did absorb, he expected the casualties from rad poisoning to be very light.

They had plotted the Klavarta ships at point nine seven light, and with their relatively small size, they had to be soaking up the rads.  Any ships that reached their home system would be crewed by the dead and dying.  Still, if they got the message out, they would have accomplished their mission.

They will be able to track us through hyper from the system when we are five hours out, he thought.  And the first of their messengers will arrive in the system two hours before they can begin tracking us.  So they will have seven hours warning.

That suited his plan.  His ships would be coming in on vectors that brought them to a surround of the system.  Transiting at point three light, a little lower than the Klavarta were capable of, they would vector in until, within an hour of the first ship entering normal space, his trap would be set.  Any ships within the inner system would not have time to escape, and he was hoping the ships in the outer system would also stay and fight.  And die.  He didn’t want to have to chase down too many of their ships, though he was sure that some would get away.  And hopefully those would bring in more fleets and squadrons, arriving in dribbles and drabs to be picked off by his force.

And when I am done, they will be finished as a military power.  I can then send my fleet out to conquer their other military and industrial installations at my leisure.

Everything was going according to plan.  Which in and of itself was worrisome, since in his experience no plan ever went completely as expected.

Chapter Twenty-one

I trust no one, not even myself.

Joseph Stalin.

NEW EARTH SPACE:  MAY 29TH, 1002.

“We have another Alpha on-board, Ma’am,” said the Duty Officer from the bridge.

“What?” stumbled out of the mouth of Admiral Sung as she sat up in her bed, activating the cabin light through her implant.  “Did the Chairwoman send him, or her?”

“No, Ma’am.  The Alpha, and it’s a her, landed on the hull in an excursion suit.”

“So, she came with a message, without the Chairwoman knowing she came aboard.”  Sung jumped out of bed as the thought struck that since their ships were under constant observation, there was the possibility that the Alpha was still observed, no matter how stealthy her approach.

She brought the holo up, to the picture of the Alpha in an excursion suit, looking somewhat like the ones used by the Empire, if a little more primitive.  There were units on the skin that appeared to be stealth field generators, as well as some fins that had the appearance of grabber units.  “I’ll be there in a moment,” she said over the com as she grabbed clothing from her closet.

The Commodore dressed as quickly as she could and headed for the briefing room.  She still wasn’t sure why the Alpha had snuck to their ship, but was pretty sure that it was something she wouldn’t like.

“This is Marttra,” said the officer who waited with the Alpha in the briefing room.  “I think you’re going to want to hear what she says.”

“Welcome aboard, Marttra,” said Sung, waving the Alpha to a seat.  “And may I ask what your position is in your fleet?”

“I am a staff officer in the home fleet,” said the Alpha, who looked like Slardra’s twin.  “The Admiral ordered me to get this information to you as fast as possible.  I coasted for three hours to get here, landing at a time when the sensors scanning a specific part of your hull would not be on target.”

“Sounds like this took a bit of planning, so it must have been important.  So, what’s the message?”

“The Council has decided to take your ships away from you,” said the Alpha, frowning.  “They have learned that you have technology that they want, and well as the means to communicate with your home across the thousands of light years.  Chairwoman Pallion wishes the technology, the means to contact your Empire, and does not want you around to contradict what she means to say.”

“Shit,” said Sung, her heart sinking in her chest.  “When is she going to launch this attack?”

“The tasking order went out three days ago, with an engagement date of one week,” said the Alpha.

“Four days?”

“Is there any way we can fight them off?  Or give her something to delay her?”

“I don’t see how, Commodore,” said the Alpha, giving a human head shake.  “Anything you offer her will just arouse her suspicions.  As far as fighting them off goes, you know your capabilities better than any of my people, but you are heavily outnumbered.  So fighting them off, I think not.  But you will have time to contact your Empire, which may help.”

“Any other details you can give us?”

“No.  We were lucky to have someone far enough inside to give us that information.  And they risked much getting it to us.”

“As did you in coming here,” said Sung, smiling at the brave Alpha.  “And the Klavarta who got you the information.”

“Oh, it wasn’t one of us.  It was a Pure.  I don’t know who, but they must have been firmly committed to our side.”

“Do you have a plan for getting back?”

“The same way I came,” said the Alpha, closing her eyes for a moment.  “An hour after I arrived, my escape will be set in place.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, Marrtra.  While we figure out what we are going to do.”

“I might be missed,” said the Alpha, rising from her seat.

“Very well.  Thank you for risking so much to help us.”

The Alpha started for the door to the corridor, then stopped and turned.  “Will you still be able to free us from our servitude?  Make us the masters of our own destiny?”

“We will do the best we can, but what your Chairwoman is planning may put a stop to our plans.  And what will your people do?”

“If we are not freed we will continue to serve the Overlords, until the Monsters are vanquished.  And then, we will rise in revolt.  If you free us, we will still fight the Monsters, but as free men and women.”

The Alpha left the chamber, and Sung sat back in her chair.  So, what the hell are we going to do now?  Evacuate back to the Empire through the wormholes?  Scuttle the ships?  And this will all have been a waste of time and resources.  We came here to find allies, and if we had just played it differently and ignored the atrocities these people, we would already have them.

But Parliament wouldn’t stand for that.  Neither would the Emperor.  In fact, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if they allied with these genocidal xenophobes who had engineered an entire slave race to serve them.

Evacuation sounds good, she thought.  And if it had been in the days of prior to wormholes, she would have been the commander on the spot, and expected to make the decision.  She might have been busted out of the service after she returned, if she made the wrong decision.  But now they had instantaneous com back to the heart of the Empire, and this decision was not hers to make.

“Get me a com back to the CNO,” she told her Com Officer over the intercom.

It probably isn’t hers either, but I have to go through the chain of command.  And nobody wants to drop the ball on this one.

*     *     *

“My recommendation, your Majesty, is to pull them out and scuttle their ships,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Sondra McCullom, Chief of Naval Operations, over the holo.  “If we wait, we just risk losing them, and letting the Klavarta get their hands on our tech.”

That would be the smart call, thought Sean, looking at his senior Fleet officer on the holo.  But is it the right call?

“Excuse me for a moment, Sondra,” he told his CNO, then blanked the holo and looked over his shoulder at the woman standing beside him.  “Tell me what you think, my dear.”

“I think you have a big problem on your hands,” said Jennifer, putting a soft hand on his shoulder.

“I know that,” he said, reaching up and squeezing her hand.  “And what should I do about this big problem?”

“You know I never liked the idea of trying to overthrow another government, especially a human one,” she said, frowning.  “But you also know that I don’t have any sympathy for these people, as Natasha Sung likes to call them.  Bunch of genocidal freaks, and clones at that.”

“So you wouldn’t evacuate?”

Jennifer shook her head, a troubled look on her face.  “I don’t like the thought of the casualties this might cause, both to us and the innocent slaves of that kingdom.  But I think it will be worse if we let them go their own way.  Even if they survive the Cacas, someone else in their space is going to eventually smash them flat.  They’ve already proven that they are murderous xenophobes, and no other species is ever going to trust them.”

“So you think I should act?”

“That’s not my decision to make, my love.  But my opinion is that you should go ahead and do what you need to do to topple that government and free those intelligent beings.”

Sean nodded and brought the holo back online.  “It’s a go with the operation, Admiral.  I want you to start getting everything in place immediately.  Sung said the Klavarta were planning their operation in four days.  Then I want ours ready to go in three.  Understood?”

“I think this is a bad idea, your Majesty.  But yours to command.”

“That is correct, Admiral.  And my blame if it blows up in our face.”

*      *     *

“Welcome to the Donut, Captain Chou,” said the greeting officer, an Ensign, as the inertia less fighter wing commander disembarked from her craft, her crew trailing close behind.

The Klassakian Spacer, Mzzarat Naranta was still wide eyed as she tried to stare at everything at once.  She had been raised among a people who had only achieved late twentieth century Earth tech.  Coming out of the wormhole gate to see a station as large as the orbit of a close in planet was enough to shock anyone, much less someone who had only flown in slow jets prior to coming to the Empire.

“Thank you, Ensign.  The rest of my wing is coming in behind me.  Can you make sure they get directions to their quarters.”

“Yes, Ma’am.  And here are your directions.”

The information came in over the Captain’s implant, and suddenly she knew just about everything there was to know about this very tiny section of the station.  There were twenty hangars within short walking distance of hers.  Each could hold an entire wing of the twelve hundred ton attack fighters.  One hundred and ten ships at full strength, which hers now was.  Five other wings were here, along with the Klassakians who were the controllers.  Their Hyper VII carriers were in close space, and would soon be rotating crew to the Donut for shore leave.  Her own people would also get a few days of rest and recreation, before they were back to the grind of training.

“Out of curiosity, how are the new aliens working out?” asked the Ensign, escorting the Captain to the hangar hatch.

“That’s classified, Ensign,” she told the man, watching as his face turned into a mask at her tone.  “I can tell you that the Cacas are not going to like it.”

The Ensign’s mask morphed into a smile, and the Captain felt better making his day.  And we have over six hundred of the ships here now, enough to tear a Caca task group apart.  And many more to come, as soon as we can get more of our com wizards trained.

*     *     *

“The operation has been moved up to three days,” announced the Briefing Officer at the head of the room.  “I know,” she said as hands went up and the more senior officers started to shout questions without waiting for acknowledgement.  “You were supposed to have another ten days, but there have been some complications.  We received word that the Klavarta are planning their own operation to take the exploration vessels, and we need to beat them to the punch.”

Cornelius raised his hand, a question on his mind.  Not really about himself, but he had men under him that this concerned.

“Yes, Major,” said the Briefing Officer, pointing at Walborski.

“It seems to me, Ma’am, that the situation has changed somewhat.  The Klavarta will now be on alert because of their own operation, and our job has just become an order of magnitude more difficult.  This seems to have turned into a suicide mission.”

“What’s the matter, son,” said an officer sitting one row up, and therefore of higher rank.  “Getting a case of the nerves?  No one promised that you would die in bed.”

The light colonel continued turning until he was looking right at Walborski.  His eyes widened as he saw who he was talking to.  Not that Cornelius was in any outward respect that different from any of the other officers, except for his eyes, which the Lt. Colonel now found staring at him.  They were the coldest eyes the hard officer had ever seen, but his own eyes widened as he caught sight of the metallic neck guard on Walborski’s uniform, embossed with the symbol of the barony Walborski had yet to visit.  His eyes got even wider when the Lt. Colonel caught sight of the ribbon with two stars, the mark of two awards of the Imperial Medal of Heroism.

“I don’t appreciate your suggestion that I might be afraid to do my duty, Sir,” said Walborski in a cold voice.  The man swallowed.

“I’m sorry, Major,” said the other officer.  “Or is it Baron?”

“If you two have finished your pissing match, perhaps we can get back to the briefing,” said the Agent who was their Briefing Officer.  “To answer your question, Major, this mission is ordered by Imperial decree.  The order comes directly from the man you all swore your oaths to.  There is no backing out.”

Cornelius nodded, afraid of that answer.  It was not that he intended to back out, but sometimes that option was offered to enlisted volunteers.  Otherwise, refusing to go on an ordered mission brought prison time at the Purgatory facility.  But disobeying an Imperial directive was a capital offense, so even a suicide mission offered a better chance of survival.

“So after this meeting, get back with your teams and iron out the last details.  We will have two more training days, then begin movement to your assembly areas.”

Which for Cornelius meant that his rump battalion would be moving to a chamber on the Donut for insertion to their assault objective.  Others would be going directly to the exploration ships where they could assault their targets across the short distance of space that separated them from their objectives.  Those would mostly be Fleet personnel, Naval Commandos.

“What about the special assets?” asked one of the officers on the front row, where the captains and colonels were sitting.  “Will they be ready in time?”

“They will be.  They and their operators have been training hard.  They may not be up to the standard we had hoped for, but they will have to do.”

Which pretty much sums up this whole clusterfuck of an operation, thought Cornelius as he walked back to his section with his subordinate officers, not looking forward to telling his NCOs about the change in plans.

Chapter Twenty-two

A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows.

Doug Larson.

NEW EARTH SPACE JUNE 1ST, 1002.

“Red alert,” yelled a voice over the intercom as the klaxons sounded in the background.  “Red alert.  All crew to battle stations.  This is not a drill.  Commodore to the bridge.”

“Bridge,” stammered Sung as she sat up in bed.  “What the hell is going on?”

And why the hell does it always have to happen when I’m in a deep sleep?  Her next thought was what the emergency might be, and that jerked her wide awake.  Could the Klavrta be attacking us ahead of their schedule?

“Twenty-four Klavarta craft just entered the system, Commodore.  They are broadcasting grav pulse in the clear.  Something about twenty thousand Ca’cadasan ships on the way here.”

“My God,” said the Commodore, jumping up and reaching for her boots.  She had taken to sleeping in her uniform since they were at constant orange alert.  She pulled the boots on and sealed them, then stood up, the nanoweave of her uniform automatically smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric that was also impact armor.  “I’ll be right up.  Sung out.”

Twenty thousand ships, she thought, trying to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.  My God.  They’ll roll right over the system defense force.  And we’re right in the middle of the system, without a chance of escape, unless we abandon our ships and run back through the wormhole.  And then it will take almost a year to gain contact with them again, and who knows what will have happened in that time.

Minutes later the Commodore ran onto the bridge, her eyes immediately seeking the tactical holo.  There was really nothing new there, especially the twenty thousand vectors arrows of an enemy fleet forging into the system.  Of course they wouldn’t be on the holo.  And since they aren’t, they’re still more than four hours out.  More likely five.  So we have some time.  Probably not enough, but some.

“We’re getting an incoming com from the Council, ma’am,” called out the Com Officer.

“Put it on my personal viewer,” she told the officer.  The small holo beside her chair came to life, the worried face of Marion Pallion looking out.

“You’ve heard?”

“Yes, Madam Chairwoman.  I have.  Do you have confirmation on their numbers?”

“Just what has been reported to me by the first couriers through.  I expect more to come through any minute, hopefully with more information.  Is there anything that you can do?”

Besides die here?  Each ship only has a single wormhole on board.  The other three had already been maneuvered to their deployment points, one to the surface of the planet, one to the second belt, and the last to one of the far space stations.

“We really can’t add much to your own firepower, Madam Chairman.  So I really don’t see what we can do.”

“What about your wormholes?” said the Chairwoman, her eyes narrowing.  “There’s no use denying that you have such.  Your ensign told us all about them.”

“And what did you do to my ensign?” asked Sung, feeling her own face flushing with anger.

“We found her wandering the streets of the Klavarta city to the north of the capital,” said Pallion, her own face as serene as could be expected when her capital was about to be attacked.  “She had been attacked and beaten by parties unknown”

And you expect me to believe that? thought Sung, snorting.  “So how did you know about wormholes?”

“Your Ensign was mumbling something about them when we found her.  It appears that whoever had kidnapped her had subjected her to mind probing.  All she kept saying was that they had found out about the wormholes aboard your ships.”

“I want her brought to my ship, immediately.”  And this could just be a trick to get us to reveal information, before they commit to their attempt to take my ships.

“We have other concerns at the moment, Commodore.  I suggest you contact your Empire and find out what help they might be able to give us.  Remember, if they roll over us, they will be able to send their full might against your own Empire.  Do you think you can survive?  I would think about that as my priority.”

The holo went blank.  Sung sat there for some minutes as more Klavarta ships appeared on the tactical plot and began broadcasting grav waves with the same message.  Still nothing to prove that there were indeed Caca ships on the way.

“Make sure that this information is sent back to the Empire,” she told her Com Officer.  Rosaro nodded and went to work on his board, sending not just the messages sent by the Klavarta and the conversation between his commander and the Chairwoman.  He also sent every byte of data they had, which of course did not include verification that the Cacas were indeed on the way.

“We’re picking up hyper emissions,” called out Lt. Parata, the Sensor Officer.

“How many of them?”

“At least a thousand, Ma’am.  And they’re consistent with Ca’cadasan ships.”

But not twenty thousand.  At least not yet.

“Get me the CNO on the com.  I need to tell her what I think.”

*     *     *

“Understood, Commodore,” said Grand High Admiral McCullom to Sung over the holo.  It still amazed her that she could talk to someone instantaneously across more than thirty thousand light years.  “I will talk to the Emperor immediately.”

The holo blanked, leaving Sondra with a moment to think about the response she was going to recommend to the Emperor.  She didn’t have a lot in the local cupboard, and even with wormhole gates it would take time to get more through to the Klavarta capital.

“Alert all of the inertia less fighter squadrons on the Donut to prepare to deploy through the wormhole net,” she told her Aide, who had been hanging in the background.  “Also, send out a tasking order to Home Fleet to prepare for a deployment as soon as they can get themselves ready.  And, last thing, requisition the parts and negative matter to erect both ends of some ship gates.”

“And if those parts aren’t available, ma’am?” asked the young Lt. Commander, who could order more in her name than any Fleet Admiral alive.

“Then get them by any means necessary,” she growled at the young man.  “If we have to disassemble other gates, then do that.  But we need them up and operating in no more than a couple of hours.  Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ll get right on it.”

*     *     *

“I accept the recommendation to deploy the inertia less fighters, Admiral,” said Sean, sitting in a chair and holding his tired head in his hands.  It seemed like he never got enough sleep these days.  His nanites could take care of the wastes that were normally cleaned from the system by rest, but it didn’t seem to help his mental state.  For that he needed REM sleep, and current events just did not allow enough of that.  “But I don’t think that will be enough.  I don’t want the Klavarta capital to fall to the Cacas.  It’s something they might never recover from.  What other ships can you get to the fight?”

“You know we can’t send any wormhole equipped ships through, your Majesty,” replied the CNO.  “We would be giving up our greatest tech advantage while sending a weak force to try and reinforce the Klavarta.  I’m afraid any force we did send would not be enough.”

“So you recommend not sending anything other than the inertia less fighters?”

“The fighters could definitely give them a surprise, and do a lot more damage to the enemy than they will take.”

“So what else do you recommend?”

“I think we should still send what warships we can through, as a show of solidarity.  But, more importantly, I think we should send as many space defense missile packs and mines through as we can fit through the gates in the allotted time.”

“Minelayers?”

“That was my thought, your Majesty.  Properly deployed, they could lay a lot of traps in front of the Cacas.  Slow them down on their way in, so we could get more weapons into the system.  And we just happen to have five squadrons of the new minelayers in orbit near the Donut.”

“OK, get them moving.  And get the assault force in place as well.”

“Don’t you think this the wrong time to try to overthrow their government, your Majesty?”

“I don’t think we’ll have a better opportunity, Admiral.  Their attention will definitely be elsewhere.  And once the ships have been released for combat, the Klavarta warriors and pilots don’t really need their civilian leadership.  Plus, this makes great cover for our special assets.”

“Always the optimist, your Majesty?”

“I’m hoping we can prevent the Cacas from taking out the capital system of our future allies.  But if they do take the capital, I don’t want any of those clones to escape.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” said McCullom, her face a mask.

Sean knew what the CNO was thinking.  This could blow up in our faces.  We could lose a lot of our own people, and not really gain anything.  But if we don’t move, we could lose the heart of this nation, and still have the same xenophobic psychopaths in charge.

“One more thing, Admiral.  I want some fast ships sent through to grab a couple of the wormholes if needed.  If we lose that system, we still need to be able to contact that nation, and lend them help if needed.”

“I can send some couriers through, your Majesty.”

“I was thinking more about some of those subspace capable stealth ships.  You could take out their wormholes, send them through, and replace their absence with some of the wormholes in the system.  That way, we have something that can creep out, then go into subspace and get away until they’re far enough out to translate into hyper without the Cacas picking them up.”

“We could do that, your Majesty,” said McCullom, a thoughtful look in her eyes.  “Might I suggest we send a half dozen through, in case we’re able to get all the wormholes, and so we can give them a better chance of a couple getting out.”

“Good idea, Admiral.  Make it so.”  The holo went blank at his command, and he sat in his chair, rubbing his temples.  It’s bad enough that I have a war, no two wars, raging in my own Galactic neighborhood.  Now I might be taking on another conflict halfway along the Galactic arm.  It was another risk placed on top of so many others.  And like all the others, it was one he felt he had to take, hoping that the whole pile didn’t collapse on top of him.

Sean thought about going back to bed, and realized that sleep was not going to come unless he used a sleep aid outside of his implant reticular activating system stimulation.  So I might as well get some work done.  I can always sleep when I’m dead.

*     *     *

“Alert,” called  out the intercom.  “Alert.  All soldiers and operatives report to their assembly areas.  Repeat, all soldiers and operatives report to your assembly areas.”

“What the hell,” groaned Walborski as he climbed out of bed, his eyes still heavy with sleep.  Normally a light sleeper and easy waker, but the last moment training and planning schedule had strained even his youthful reserves.  And tomorrow was supposed to bring more of the same.

“What’s going on?” he said into his com, as he pulled on a utility coverall and sealed it.

“We received an emergency deploy order, Major,” came back the call from one of the people who was manning the local com center.  “You will be receiving your tasking order within the half hour.”

“Why an emergency deploy?” asked Walborski, grabbing his boots and sitting back on the bed so he could pull them on.

“I don’t know, Major.  I’m just passing on the order that is coming down from command.”

“Right,” said Cornelius, finishing the seal on one boot and reaching for the other.  He killed the com, not really wanting to hear more of nothing in particular.

The corridor outside his quarters was a madhouse.  People running to and fro, shouting orders, questions, complaints.  It was like no one knew what they were doing, and the one Fleet Captain he saw looked just as confused as the PFCs that were running hell bent for, somewhere.  Cornelius had never seen anything like it.  Had never thought to see anything like this out of professionals like this.  But he felt the same stress as they did, training for a dangerous mission which kept having its parameters and time frame changed with little notice.  He was sure that was what was happening now.  Whoever was in charge had decided to go now, for whatever reason.

“Calm the fuck down,” yelled a Ranger Colonel, stepping into the corridor.  “You men know where you’re supposed to be.  So get there.”

That command voice was what was needed, and people seemed to get themselves together and head out to their assembly points.  Cornelius pushed ahead, trying to get through the men who were still packed into the corridor.  Some looked back at him to complain about his pushing, the words dying on their lips as they saw who it was.

“At ease,” he yelled before any of the men who had already gathered in their assembly chamber could jump to their feet.  They didn’t have time for any of the military nonsense that didn’t have to do with preparing to fight.

“What’s the word, sir?” asked Renhard Fujardo, promoted to Sergeant Major and the top NCO slot for his two companies of Rangers.

“The word is that I don’t know shit, Sarge Maj,” said Cornelius.  “Everyone get your gear together, ammo up, and get ready to move out.  Hopefully someone will come along and tell us what to do before we actually step through the wormhole.”

There was some mumbling and grumbling when he stopped speaking, no more or less than he had expected.  But they moved with alacrity, gathering their gear and putting it on, pulling rifles from racks.  The uniforms were duplicates of the uniform worn by the security personnel of the Klavarta Council.  Cornelius had reservations about wearing those uniforms as well, since they could be considered spies.  It hadn’t made him feel any better when he was told that they would probably be killed by the Klavarta anyway if they failed their mission and were captured, no matter what they were wearing.

One of the operators of the special assets walked into the room, a woman who was a Secret Service Agent, augmented like the rangers.  She wore the same uniform they did, with the addition of a special helmet, superficially the same as theirs, but with a different purpose.

“What’s the word, Agent DeSilva?” he asked the dark haired woman who was assigned to his mission, though not really under his command.

“The units launching from the exploration ships are going through now, so they can be in place while the gates aboard the vessels are expanded for ship transport,” said the Agent in her soft voice.  The voice was deceptive, as the Agent was as deadly as any Ranger that the Major had ever seen.

“Ship transport?” asked the Sergeant Major, while the two captains commanding the companies crowded close to hear the answer.

“The situation has changed in the Klavarta capital system.  There is a massive fleet of Cacas on the way in.”

“Shit.  And they’re still going to send us into that fucked up mess?” asked Captain Nagano, the commander of A company.

“The Emperor himself has ordered it so.  The Fleet is going to aid them in the naval battle, but it is felt that this is still the perfect opportunity to take out their government.  And the Emperor has ordered that those clones are not to leave the system, no matter what else happens.”

Everyone looked shocked.  Cornelius could feel his own mouth fall open.  He really couldn’t believe that the man he called friend would send them into such a hopeless situation.  But of course he would, thought the rational part of the Major’s mind.  He has the big picture to worry about, and even those he calls friends can’t be anything but pawns on the chess board if he wants to win this war.  He realized then why he had been assigned to this part of the mission.  The Emperor wanted someone he could trust to carry out the mission, no matter what.  It was just Cornelius’ bad luck that he was one of the best killers that the leader of the Empire knew.

“We will gather near the portal that will take us to their Council building, and wait for the word,” continued DeSilva.

How in the hell can she be so calm about this, he thought.  Then he looked into her eyes and saw that there was fear dwelling there as well.  They were all afraid.  And all would do what was asked of them, despite that fear.

*     *     *

Aboard the three exploration ships the Naval Commandos arrived, dressed in their special armored excursion suits.  They deployed immediately out the airlocks, scanning the area and putting themselves on courses for their objectives.  Space here was crowded with thousands of objects.  To the men in the excursion suits, with multiple kilometers between each object, it was just like a training mission.  A small course correction here and there, grabber units barely engaging as they crept along through space, unseen.

The first part of the mission was on, and there was no turning back from here.  If the Commandos were discovered, there was no excuse that could be made for their presence.

Chapter Twenty-three

It is not necessary to change. Survival is not mandatory.

W. Edwards Deming.

“We have received permission to render you aid, Chairwoman,” said Sung over the holo.  “The Emperor wishes it could be more, but with such short notice, and so few gates, this is all he can give you.”

“So, you admit that you have wormholes, and can contact your Empire,” growled Pallion.  “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“We really don’t have time for this, Chairwoman.  We can discuss the wormholes and the tech behind them when this battle is over.  Agreed?”

“Yes,” said Pallion, her brain working on overtime.  “But if things go badly, we may need to talk about those wormholes.”  And me and the Council can use them to get out of here, thought the Chairwoman.  Or, at least, I can get out of here.

“Till then, Chairwoman, let’s focus on what we can do now.  We..”

“We’re picking up translations into normal space, Commodore,” said a voice in the background of the holo cast.

“The Monsters are jumping into the system, Madam Chairwoman,” came the call over her over com.

“I will get back with you in a moment, Commodore.  I have to see to my own forces.”

As soon as the holo was off she opened up another com link.  “Get me the Deputy Fleet Commander.”  That worthy was ensconced in one of the massive two hundred million ton forts in orbit.  The overall Fleet commander was on a station in the second belt, only contactable by grav wave if they didn’t want to wait for the limit imposed by light speed.

A moment later a face appeared on the holo, one that appeared way too young for the six stars on his shoulder boards.  “Madam Chairwoman?”

Pallion looked over at the tactical holo which was taking up a good quarter of the large office at the moment.  She could see the dispositions of all of her ships, about twelve thousand of them, though all of much smaller classes than those of the Monsters.  And the oncoming wave of the Monster’s vessels, thousands entering Klavarat space, at least ten thousand more still in hyper and following them in.  And most disturbing of all, several score clumps of several hundred each were curving around the system in hyperspace, obviously heading for positions to cover all the approaches.  She was glad now that she had sent as many couriers out of the system as she had available near the hyper limit.  She would be getting reinforcements as soon as they could rally and arrive.  But she didn’t think it would be soon enough to save the system, or her.

“Prepare to launch your assault on the Imperial ships on my command, Admiral.”

“Are you sure, Madam Chairwoman?  Shouldn’t we concentrate on beating the Monster invasion first?”

“You know as well as I, Admiral, that there isn’t a chance in hell we’re going to beat this force.  The Imperial Commodore has promised that aid will be coming through from their system by wormhole, but how much can they bring to bear in so short a time.”

“She admitted to having wormholes?”

“Yes, she did,” said Pallion, allowing a small smile across her face.  “So we know they are real.  And….”

“You might want to see this, Madam Chairwoman,” came a call over the com.

At a mental command another holo came up, showing an object floating in space.  It was some kilometers from one of the huge Imperial ships, which gave it scale.  She sucked in a breath as she saw the mirrored surface that must have been a couple kilometers on a side.  Large enough for even one of the huge exploration ships to go through.

“And that proves it, Admiral,” she said, turning back to that holo.  “That is a wormhole gate, and the Imperials can make them.”  And when we get our hands on that technology, we will pound the Monsters into extinction.  And after that, the rest of the Galaxy.  Nothing will be beyond us.

“I want you to be prepared to take that wormhole.  It will give the Council, and our loyal subordinates,” she said, nodding to the officer, “a chance to escape the system.  Understood”

“Yes, ma’am.  I will get the teams ready to go.  We await your word.”

Pallion turned back to the holo that was centered on the wormhole.  Some small, almost minute, objects came through, about twenty of them, followed by twenty more, then another group.  And that is what they send us for help? she thought, frustrated.  We need warships, and they send things not much larger than shuttles through.

“Make sure the General has all planetary defenses online and ready to engage,” she called out on the com to one of her assistants.  The planetary defenses, shore batteries, thousands of defense sats, were intended to handle a large incoming force, but not this big.

“Madam Chairman,” came a call over the com.  “We’re receiving a transmission from those ships.  They’re telling us their capabilities and making suggestions about their deployment.  I’m not sure whether to believe it”

“Play it back for me,” she ordered, and the holo changed to the face of a woman of Asian descent looking out of the holo, her voice relaying the information the com officer was talking about.

Unbelievable, she thought as she heard about those capabilities.  What other secrets do they have?

“Ask that officer what she suggests for her deployment.  And they have what, six hundred of these vessels coming through.  Keep a close watch on them, because I want to see if what they just said was the truth.”  And what else will be coming through that gate of wonder.

*     *     *

NEW EARTH SPACE, JUNE 2ND, 1002.

“Our blocking forces are all in position, my Lord,” reported the Chief of Staff, stopping beside the Great Admiral’s command chair.  “There will be no escape for any of the beings in this system.”

“We’re picking up a system wide grav wave transmission from that moon,” said the Com Officer, pointing to the tactical holo.  “The one that’s radiating all the energy.”

Their homeworld, thought the Great Admiral.  And to him it seemed a pitiful one indeed.  Not even a planet, but the moon of a gas giant in orbit around a minor star.  They were one and half light hours out from that star, not quite that far from the moon.  He thought they would have been better served to have chosen an F class, with a hyper limit of about three light hours, which would have delayed his fleet in getting to them.  Instead, they had picked a red dwarf, obviously in the hope that they would be overlooked.  Now found, that decision was going to just get them killed quicker.

“Any idea what the message is?” he asked the Com Officer, noting that the vector arrows of the enemy forces were changing, shortening as they went from acceleration toward the Ca’cadasan fleet to deceleration at what had to be their maximum rate.

“We have no way of knowing, my Lord.  Our computers are having a difficult time with decrypting it.  I believe they are constantly changing it from transmission to transmission.”

One use codes, thought the Great Admiral.  Smart, unlike most of their actions since we entered their system.  He had expected a more measured, calculating response from the Klavarta, but they were acting like a nest of ground insects whose home had been kicked.  Everything had been coming at him as fast as they could, in dribs and drabs, much like the attacks he had experienced on the way here.  They would still sting his fleet, but cause nowhere near the damage they could if they concentrated.  If this is the way they will fight every battle, I should be able to sweep through their space with what I have and end them.

“Look at this, my Lord.  It’s an image from the orbit of their homeworld.”

The holo changed to show a high definition view of a large ship.  It was hard to tell how large until they spotted one of the largest Klavarta vessels they knew of, one of their freighters.

“By the Gods, that must be as large as one of our battleships,” exclaimed the Chief of Staff.  “And it doesn’t look like anything that these people have made.”

“I’m running through the databanks, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer.  “I’m trying to match some of the structures on its hull with what we have.”

Allies? thought the Great Admiral.  A new class of their own warships?  At least something we have yet to see.

“I think I’ve got a match, my Lord,” said the Sensor Officer.  Another vessel appeared next to the one on the holo.  It looked quite a bit different.  However, several of the structures on both vessels, especially the fins that looked like grabber units, were similar.

“What is that other vessel?”

“It’s a human battleship, from the other side of the Empire.  The humans we are warring with on that front.”

“So it’s most probably from the same people,” said the Chief of Staff.  “But how did it get here?”

And what kind of tech does it have, thought the Great Admiral.  From what he had heard through channels, as slow as they were, his Empire was still the technological superior of the humans, but not by all that much.  And the humans, with their inventiveness, were actually better at war than his own people.  Of course, it took time to get news from that far away, and the last he had heard, the invasion fleet was in the process of crushing them.  But who knew what had happened in the many months it took for word to go from one end of the Empire to the other.  And there were some disturbing rumors about some human advancements that seemed to confound common sense.

“Shall we order the other groups to advance, my Lord?” asked the Chief of Staff, looking at his leader.  “That was the plan, yes.  For half of each group to move in and crush them from all sides, while the other half maintained their watch just inside the hyper barrier.”

The Great Admiral had to think about that for a moment.  If there were ships from the so called New Terran Empire here, then what might be waiting within a short haul to this system?  And if he reduced the size of his blockading forces, a strong enemy might be able to take them in detail, while he would be helpless to interfere.”

“Send the order,” he told his Com Officer, still doubting it was the proper decision, but believing he needed to take the risk.  “The main fleet will continue in at maximum acceleration, least time transit to the moon that is their homeworld.”

If there are humans here from the other Empire, they will just join their cousins in this one in death.

*     *     *

“The wing is ready for deployment, Captain,” said the Executive Officer of the unit over the com.

“Understood, XO,” said Chou, who was not only commander of her own wing for this mission, but the overall leader of the entire strike force.  She looked over at her Klassakian com tech, Spacer Second Class Mzzarat Naranta.  “How is your contact with your siblings, Mzzarat?”

“Five by five, Ma’am,” replied the Spacer.  “Our sister is aboard the Pinta with the others, and linked into that ship’s sensor network.  The other sister is still at our point of origin, and the connection is just as strong with her.”

The Captain nodded.  It was thought that the Klassakians could communicate among siblings through their quantum connections from anywhere in the Universe.  But this was the first confirmation it worked at a distance of over thirty thousand light years.

Mzzarat had seven siblings, a normal sized litter for her people.  Six of them, including her, were aboard inertia less fighters as com techs, while the other two were split between the Donut, back in Imperial space, and the exploration ship Nina.  The other vessels of the six flight wings were also equipped the same way.  This would be the first test of the concept in battle.  Chou was happy they were actually going to put their new toys to use, but she had hoped it wouldn’t have been against the odds they were facing this day.

“Com from the Klavarta command,” said Mzzarat, looking over her shoulder.  “We are cleared to deploy as we see fit.  Data coming through on dispositions and orders for their own fleet.”

Well, that’s nice, thought Chou, who had been wondering how much information the Klavarta would be willing to share.  It was hazardous enough traipsing through the system almost blind, when running into anything could blow them out of space.  Knowing the proposed positions of the friendly ships would be a great help.

“Last wing coming through the portal, Ma’am,” called out the Pilot, his eyes locked on the small tactical holo over his board.

Chou looked over the larger holo in the center of the cabin and ran a finger over a proposed path, then some others, assigning the courses of three strike subgroups, each composed of two wings, that she had decided would be the best way to hit the Cacas.  They would hit them in three waves at different areas of their fleet, then turn around and strike at three other elements.  That way she could spread the raw fear that her ships would cause.  And maybe even get in a reload and strike again.  She had no illusions that she would defeat the Cacas, but stinging them would have to be enough.

She sent out the tasking orders through the normal short range laser com, then waited for the acknowledgement from all ships.

All of the fighters started accelerating at their space normal maximum of fifteen hundred gravities.  They would only be able to carry the velocity out of warp that they brought in, so they needed to build up to that speed before they warped out.   That took just over three hours, a time when they could be tracked by their graviton emissions.  They were still almost a light hour from the enemy at that point, and Chou almost wished the Cacas would fire on her command, because they would be gone before those weapons got to them.

“Prepare to raise warp bubble,” she ordered, and the command went out to all the ships over the new Klassakian network.

“All have acknowledged,” said Mzzarat after a moment of listening to her sister’s thoughts.

“Raise warp bubbles and begin acceleration,” was the next order.

On six hundred and sixty of the fifteen hundred ton attack ships the negative matter tanks released their loads into the strong electromagnetic fields, forming the warp bubble that separated them from the normal universe.  As soon as the field was in place each ship started to accelerate at its maximum in field rate of thirty thousand gravities.  Outside of the field that acceleration would have been over twenty-eight thousand gravities beyond the capabilities of the inertial compensators, enough to crush the crew to beyond paste, and make even the tough alloys of the vessel flow like soft plastic.  Inside the field it was as if the acceleration did not exist.

Chou studied the tactical holo, which would normally have shown the estimated position of the attack craft and all other ships in the system.  With the Klassakian net they were receiving the feeds from hundreds of ships, some close, some far, en mass enough to show where the enemy ships really were, as well as their own positions.

And soon we get to see if this works in a real attack pattern, she thought, leaning back in her chair and trying to relax, while they built up velocity to the speed of light and beyond.  And these Cacas don’t have a clue what’s coming their way.

*     *     *

“Our analysts have been looking at the situation, your Majesty,” said McCullom.  “I wish I could tell you that we had a chance to salvage that system, but my people can see no way out.”

“We have to be able to do something,” said Sean, slamming a hard hand down on his desk.  The holo flickered for a moment, and the Emperor felt the shame of losing his temper in front of a subordinate.  “What can we do, Admiral?  Can we project enough force into that system to make the Cacas back off.”

“Your Majesty.  We have looked over all of the data sent through by the Nina and her sisters.  There appears to be twenty-five thousand Ca’cadasan ships, more than were in the initial invasion force that hit us and the Republic, and took out New Moscow.  Even if we were to transit all of home fleet, and all the ships we have near enough to gates to move through within forty-eight hours, we would still be outnumbered, us and the Klavarta, six to one in tonnage.  We would just lose those ships.”

“Then what do your analysts suggest, Admiral?”

“Evacuation.  We send as many hulls as we can, troop transports, liners, freighters, and a shitload, er, I mean a bunch of shuttles, and pull as many of those people as we can out of the system.  We can repatriate them later, to one of their major industrial worlds.”

“How many of those major industrial worlds do they have, Admiral.  And how much do they lose if they lose this system?”

“According to what they told Sung, they have over a thousand inhabited systems in their nation, of which fifty-four are of the major industrial variety.  They’re not as heavily populated as our core systems, maybe two billion each, but almost all of their industry is military in nature.”

“So what’s your estimate on their loss of productivity and military power if, no when, they lose this system?”

“Worst case scenario, your Majesty.  And this is mostly guess work.  They will lose about five percent of their industry, and probably from fifteen to twenty percent of their military power.  That’s based on how large their home fleet is, since they seemed so determined to hold that one system.”

Which is biting them in the ass, thought the Emperor.  And something we need to remember.

“About the same percentage industry and population as we lost when the Cacas took out Cimmeria and Aquilonia,” continued McCullom.

Sean felt the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about that system which had contained two core worlds.  They had been wiped out by the Cacas, and, even though he could have ordered the fleet to make an all-out effort to defend the system, the fleet would have been wiped out.  The dream that had identified the target had also told him that he would lose the war if he reacted to it.  It had been the right decision, which still didn’t make it any easier to reconcile with the fact that he had doomed over seven billion sentients, mostly human, to death.

“They can recover from that, your Majesty.  And my people think we can get two billion or more out of the system before the Cacas get within orbit of their primary moon.”

“Out of five or six billion?”

“Two billion is still a better number than what we rescued from New Moscow, your Majesty.  I wish we could get all of them out of there, but in the real Universe we have to accept our limitations.  And there’s the possibility that the Klavarta can get even more out, depending on how many hulls they can get to the gates in time.”

“Very well.  Do it, Admiral.  Tell whomever you’re sending through to command our forces that my recommendation is for the Klavarta to get as many of their people through as possible.  I’m sure their government will want to pack adult warriors and industrial workers through the gates first, but I want as many of their children to get through as possible.”

“Good idea, sir.  It will definitely help us to gain the loyalty of the Klavarta.”

“And it’s the right thing to do, Admiral.  Remember that.”

“I worry that the civilians they interact with might not be so accepting of them, your Majesty.  You know that their genetic modifications go well beyond what our laws allow.”

“I’ll deal with that, Admiral.  They weren’t modified under our laws, and they can’t help what others did to them to make them that way.”

“What about their government?  They’ll surely try to get through the gate if we don’t get them first.  And when they’re here, it might hurt our relationship arresting and trying them as genocides.”

“They are not to get through that gate, Admiral.  No matter what.  They will die in that system, heroes of their people.  As soon as the Chairwoman issues the evacuation orders, I want the operation to go forward to take them out as planned.”

“Understood,” said the Admiral, though her expression told that though understood intellectually, it was not accepted on an emotional level.

As long as she follows orders, she can feel whatever she likes.  I’m the one the guilt falls on at the end of the day.  And I can accept that.

*     *     *

Ships had been coming through the gate since a few minutes after the small fighters had appeared.  Liners, freighters, smaller vessels that looked like pleasure craft.  Hundreds of the former, thousands of the latter.  She still wasn’t sure what use they would be, unless?  Are they trying to pull us out, along with our most important people?  We could do that.

“More objects are coming through the wormhole, Ma’am.”

And there were, ships that looked like some of her kingdom’s largest warships, in the two hundred thousand ton range.  Or they would have been if not for the mass of pods that were attached to their hulls.

“What are those?” she asked, looking at the holo of the Admiral.

“They have told us they are minelayers,” said the Admiral, holding his ear as he listened to the com unit lodged within his auditory canal.  “Each is carrying fifty pods of ten missiles each.  They will accelerate into the paths of the enemy and lay the pods, which are heavily stealthed.  They will launch when the enemy ships get within range to pick them up despite their stealth.”

There were twenty ships already in system, with more coming through every moment.  Each ship was carrying five hundred capital ship missiles in their pods, between them thousands of weapons.  While not enough to destroy the Monster fleet, it would sting them.  But would enough stings drive them away?  She doubted it, which made getting herself and as many of her immortals as possible through one of the wormholes a priority.

“Can we transit that wormhole back to their Empire?” she asked the Admiral.

“Not while they’re transiting ships and weapons into our system,” said the Admiral.  “There would be too much chance of a collision.”

Then we wait, she thought, looking over at the holo that was showing a unit of her home fleet closing with the enemy, the arrows of missiles flowing both ways as they fired on each other.  That was the only way they could track what was going on in real time, as the grav waves of the grabber units involved almost instantaneously transited the light hours of space.

Missile icons started falling off the plot as they were taken out by counter weapons.  The weapons from her ships were falling off faster than those of the Monsters, since the massive fleet was able to engage the weapons of only a few thousand much smaller craft, most with only a dozen missiles.  Then the Ca’cadasan missiles started getting through, and her ships started disappearing from the plot as well.  Scores at first, then hundreds.  A few enemy ships were destroyed, some more damaged, but only a hundred or so of the Klavarta attack ships actually got within beam weapon range, and they got much the worse of that duel as well.

The Klavarta force was gone.  They had fought with suicidal ferocity, as they always did.  Which may have worked when there were thousands of attack ships attacking a hundred or so of the Monster ships.  This was not that situation, and there was no way they could crack the defenses of that large a fleet.

“Madam Chairwoman,” came a call over the com identified as the Imperial Commodore.  “Taking them on a piecemeal with your home fleet is not going to work.  You need to concentrate your forces and hit them with a hammer.”

“You think that will work?”

“No, Chairwoman.  I do not.  You will still lose this system, and there is no way we can get enough aid to you in time to save it.  But you will cause more damage to the enemy by hitting them with a concentrated force, which is the best you can hope for.  Or you can continue to throw away your warriors for no return, and the Caca fleet will be stronger at the end, when they go for the rest of your systems.”

“Very well,” said Pallion, switching the tactical holo to show all of her industrial platforms and mining outposts on moons and asteroids, and the antimatter facilities around the star.  It had taken almost six hundred years to build this infrastructure, and it was doomed to be wiped out in a little more than two days.  “I will order the fleet to do as you suggest.  Now, what about the rest of us who are trapped here.  Our graviton tracking is showing that the Monsters have surrounded the system and that there is no escape.”

“I believe the Emperor and the Admiralty is working on an evacuation plan, Madam Chairman.  We should be getting word soon, but I suggest that you start gathering every shuttle and every space capable hull you can put your hands on.”

“And how do we get out of here?” said Pallion, in a panic forgetting what the Imperials had in orbit.

“Through our wormhole, of course,” said Sung.

And I will be among the first to get through to safety, thought the Chairwoman.  And then we will return with all of the marvelous tech of the Imperials, and let the Monsters, let all the aliens in this part of space, beware.

Pallion sat there for some minutes, watching as the minelayers accelerated past her moon and headed for the Monsters.  Until she was again interrupted by the com.  “Madam Chairman.  You need to see this,” said the familiar voice.

“What is it?” she asked as the holo showed a long range zoom of the inertia less fighters, the distance marker showing that they were over ten light minutes away.

“Those fighters, Ma’am.  They just, disappeared, Ma’am,” gasped the Admiral in charge of orbital defense over the com.

Pallion watched the holo herself, and the ships first erected silver globes around themselves, then completely disappeared from all sensors.  Visual, radar, lidar, even heat sensors lost all trace of them, as if they had teleported away.  We need their tech, she thought, her own greed for power driving all other thoughts from her mind for the moment.

Chapter Twenty-four

Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it.

Hunter S. Thompson.

The fleet forged on ahead, accelerating at five hundred and twenty-five gravities.  When they reached the halfway point they would start decelerating at the same rate, on a course that would bring them into the gas giant system.  The tactical holo showed that the situation hadn’t changed.  There were still small groups heading at him, obviously intending to attack as soon as they could.  Some were already launching, trying to get the best use out of their weapons at long range.  His ships, or at least as many as needed to, were returning fire.  The enemy was coming in the same old way, all to his advantage.

“They are slowing, my Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer.

They were, as he could see himself.  Most were still heading his way.  It took time to change vectors.  He wasn’t sure what they were trying to accomplish.  The forces that couldn’t slow and reverse before they got to him were still forging ahead.  It really did no good to slow themselves so that they were converging with his fleet as easy targets.  But the rest were trying to do something else.

“They’re just delaying the inevitable,” said the Tactical Officer.

But the changing vector arrows concerned the Great Admiral.  Every ship that was heading his way that could avoid close action was slowing, or thrusting along new vectors.  He ordered the holo to show him projected courses and cursed.

“Are they trying to run?” asked the Chief of Staff, his own eyes locked on the holo.

“No.  Someone is finally thinking over there.  They are trying to gather their forces so they can form one strike force.”

“We should still be able to beat them, yes?”

“Oh, we’ll beat them, but I’m going to lose a lot more males than if they had come at us the same old way.”

The holo showed a mass of vessels, several thousand at least, forming up in a far orbit of the gas giant and vectoring toward his fleet.  Some of those readings were of ships larger than any Klavarta vessel they had ever run into.  Fire million tons or so.  And it was radiating in the same resonance as the other Klavarta ships, so he didn’t think it was Imperial.  He was fairly sure the vessels that had yet to join that main body would change their vectors to join up before they struck.

We’ve been in the system for less than three hours, and they are already adjusting to the reality of us being here.  Not that it’s going to help them all that much.  We’ve got them flat footed, and they have to realize it.

*     *     *

“Commodore Sung.   I am Vice Admiral Connie Wallace.  I am taking command of our part of the operation in this system.”

“Glad to see you, Admiral,” said Sung, looking at the small petite blond in the holo.  “We’re shooting all information we have on the system, the Klavarta and the Cacas over to your ship.”

And a wonderful addition to the human force it was.  The twenty million ton superbattleships were no longer the mightiest ships in the fleet, but they were still a force to be reckoned with.  Prince Henry, was one of the first of that class to be commissioned, but regular upgrades made her the equal of every other ship of her type.

“I hope you understand, Commodore.  We’re not here to fight.  We’re here to help organize the evacuation of this system and protect it from any missile storms the Cacas might send our way.”

Which means you could still end up getting your entire force vaporized trying to stop the unstoppable, thought Sung, nodding.  “I have already relayed that information to Chairwoman Pallion, Admiral.  I‘m just waiting for her to give the order.”

Thankfully, the Chairwoman, through her Admiral in Charge, had finally given the weapons free order to all of her military units.  By now most of the ships in orbit, including their watchdogs, were boosting out, and the orbital weapons and forts were realigning their axis of fire to face the oncoming Caca fleet.  At least that made sense, since whatever missile storm came in would be from that axis.  But she still hadn’t given the evacuation order.  Once she gave it, the entire world would be mobilized to evacuate.  If they tried to go ahead without her order, there might be a storm of order and counter-order that might cause problems.

The big forts that are targets are still within sight, she thought with a breath of relief.  If they had moved, the Commando teams would have been SOL, unable to reach them with their encounter suits.  They must want to keep us under their weapons, just in case.  Lucky for us.

The Admiral nodded in return.  Sung was sure the woman knew what her orders were, and that they would be implemented as soon as Pallion gave the orders they needed her to give.

And why hasn’t she given them? thought the Commodore.  She had to realize that she needed to get as many of her people out of here as possible, and any delay was dooming some of her people, which was the same thing as the manpower of her nation.

More ships came through the wormhole, much smaller than the superbattleship, but still larger than most of the Klavarta ships in the system.  A squadron of light cruisers, all of the newest missile defense class.  As soon as they had cleared the wide open wormhole, which was actually growing wider by the minute as its frame was expanded, another squadron came through.  Following them was the first squadron of missile defense destroyers.

Sung looked at the tasking order on a side screen, information that had been sent over from the Harry.  There would be a total of forty light cruisers in four squadrons, as well as eighty-four of the tin cans in seven squadrons.  A powerful missile defense force, and one that would melt in the midst of a full scale onslaught by the approaching Caca fleet.

“She needs to give that order as soon as she can,” said Wallace.  “We need to start getting their hulls through the wormhole during the slack periods between our own deployments.  And she needs to start loading our shuttles.”

As the Admiral spoke every ship that had come through the wormhole was disgorging every shuttle they carried.  In fact, every ship had been loaded with extra shuttles, and there were soon many hundreds of them in space, joining the thousands already there, awaiting permission to land on the moon.

“Hold a sec, Admiral.  I’ll see what I can do.”

Sung blanked the holo to the commanding officer, then had her Com Officer contact the Chairwoman.

“Chairwoman Pallion.  We need you to give the evacuation order, now.  We need your ships to start through the wormhole, and our shuttles must be given landing instructions.  Please, ma’am.  Every second counts now.”

“But my shuttle hasn’t gotten here yet,” exclaimed the woman, almost in a panic.

“Ma’am, you will have plenty of time to get away.  It will take the Cacas at least twenty hours to reach the planet, and that’s if there is nothing to slow them down.  Even their missiles, if they launch from their current position, will take over three hours, almost four, to reach here.  So you will be able to get to safety.  But every minute we wait means that thousands more of your people will be lost.”

“I will send out the order, Commodore.  But the Pures must be evacuated first.”

Oh crap, thought Sung, almost panicking herself.  The Emperor is not going to like this.  Of course we want to get the non-modified humans away, but not by sacrificing the modified humans that make up the bulk of this nation.  Think fast, Natasha.

“Ma’am.  We have thousands of shuttles and small ships that will be coming in.  When more of our merchant and transport hulls get here, this space is going to get really crowded, so we need to get what we have here loaded and out of here.  Of course we’ll evacuate your Pure humans as fast as possible, but we won’t have the landing strip space to send all of our shuttles to your capital.  We will send as many as we can there, but we will also have to land at the fields of your Klavarta servants.  So please, give the order.”

“Very well, Commodore.  I will give the order.  And what in the hell is that?”

Sung looked at the holo that was centered on the wormhole in time to see the front end of a twenty-five million ton superfreighter come bursting through.  While only a fourth more massive than a superbattleship, it appeared to be much larger due to its less massive construction.  As soon as it cleared the wormhole its huge cargo hatches opened and a swarm of shuttles flew out.

“More shuttles, Madam Chairwoman.  Now you need to give that order.”  Sung muted the com for a moment and turned to look at her Com Officer.

“Broadcast order has gone out for the evacuation on all channels,” called out the officer.  “All citizens to report to landing fields, or to take whatever ships are ready into space with full loads of refugees.”

“I’ve sent the order out, Commodore,” said Pallion as soon as Sung got back to her.

And you never got to launch your master plan to take my ships, did you, bitch.  “Thank you, Commodore.  Any word on your shuttle”

“Five minutes,” said Pallion, her face pale, like she was thinking it was five hours.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, Chairwoman,” said Sung with a smile.  She waved a hand at the Com Officer, and he sent the signal he had been ordered to when he saw that signal.

*     *     *

“You’re a go on your mission, Major,” came the call over the com.  “We’re expanding the wormhole on the other end.  First transit in two minutes.”

And that would be me, thought Walborski as he looked back at the first platoon of his first company of his unnamed rump battalion.  All were dressed as Council Security, though their augmentation would make them much more effective than those people.  That brought the thought that he and his men could be executed as spies if they were caught.  Hell, they’d probably kill us anyway, for attempting to assassinate their Council, even if we were wearing uniforms made of Imperial flags.

“Two minutes,” he called out to the officer and men who had been standing there, waiting.  All stood up straighter, or got up from the floor, those who had been sitting.

“I wish you would reconsider going first, sir,” said the Ranger First Lieutenant who was a meter from him.

“Not on your life, Lieutenant.  I’m not about to let anyone go first into an unknown like this.  You just stay on my ass and get your men through, and spread out when we hit the other side.”

“Yes, sir,” said the other officer, who still didn’t look happy with the decision.

If they’re waiting for us, you can be the second to die, after I get mine.

“Wormhole has finished expanding, now,” came the voice over the com.  The microdrones they had sent through earlier were looking at the wormhole.  Its frame had been expanded by sending new elements through that were assembled by the drones, while more negative matter was sent through to fill the magnetic field within that frame.

“Rangers,” yelled Walborski, waving a hand forward.  “Follow me.”  With that he leapt into the portal, his augmented muscles sending him flying through the air, holding his weapon at the ready.  He hit the mirrored surface and the disorientation of wormhole transit hit him full force. It seemed to take hours to move through the portal, while his mind seemed to occupy all of space and time.  He really wished he could remember what he had seen while in this state, but the human mind was not capable of retaining that knowledge.  And then he was flying out the other end of the portal, the momentum of his leap carrying him into the large basement chamber that the drones had shown waiting on the far side of the wormhole.  And there were Klavarta waiting for him, just as the drones had shown.  He hoped they were the ones they were expecting to be waiting.  If not, this would be a very short mission.

One of the Klavarta stepped forward, a member of the scary looking warrior subspecies.  He had seen vids of them, all teeth and claws and spikes, bred especially for war.  He thought he could probably still take one, thanks to his augmentation, but it wasn’t something he wanted to test.

“Welcome, Major Walborski,” said the being in a strange hissing speech caused by his over developed jaws and teeth.  “We have been expecting you.”

He noticed now that the Klavarta were all also dressed in Council Security uniforms.

“Are you ready to help us to the Council offices?” asked the Major, as more Rangers came through the portal at his back.

“We are.  And your, pet, Monsters?”

“They’re coming along right after my first platoon.  And you realize that the only ones that have any self-will are not really Cacas?  Uh, your Monsters.  They’re shape shifters in the form of the Monsters.  And the real ones do not have any mental faculties of their own.”

“So we have heard,” said the Klavarta, an unreadable expression on his face.  “It is hard to believe, but my contacts have told me to act as if it’s true, whether I believe it or not.”

“Part of the deception plan, uh, what do I call you?”

“I am Captain Tushara.  And all of these with me are fellow officers.  It was hard to find enlisted Klavarta who would believe in this revolution, so we gathered what we had.  And I have to ask, couldn’t you just fake vid, footage was the word I think my contact used?  What a strange term.”

Walborski nodded, aware that the last of first platoon had come through, and it was time for their puppets and imposters to make their appearances.  “I think the term was coined on Old Earth, though I don’t know what it came from.  But even the best fake vid can be determined to be false with the proper analysis.  So high command decided that we would have the real thing.”

The first of the Cacas, the imposters, came through on hands and knees, arrayed in the battle armor of the Ca’cadasan Empire.  That one stood up, and looked around, while several more of the same kind came through.  Walborski stared at the Cacas that he knew to be a Yugalyth.  The creatures still gave him the creeps, and he didn’t think he would ever get used to them.

“You know the plan,” he said to the leader of the Yugalyth.  “Make sure you play it up for the cameras.”

“Yes, Major.  We know what to do.”

More of the Cacas crawled through the portal, these the real thing.  Their eyes looked vacantly out at the world as if there was nothing behind them.  Actually, there wasn’t.  Their higher functions had been destroyed and replaced with computer interlinks that allowed others to control their movements.  The controllers came through next, followed by more Rangers.

Walborski looked at one of the puppets.  It was one of the Cacas he had promised would be treated well on New Moscow.  He had meant that promise when he made it, but had learned that the word of a mere captain meant nothing when generals, admirals and even emperors decided different.  Even though it had been taken out of his hands, he still felt soiled by the whole deal.

“Follow me,” said Tushara, pointing to some doors on the side of the chamber.  “And I assume that all of your people have downloads of the building layout.”

“We do.  First platoon and the imposter unit will come with me, while the rest of the battalion finds their own way through their planned routes.  Now let’s go ahead and get this over with.”  Before I puke at what we’ve been asked to do.

*     *     *

In the middle asteroid belt, three thousand kilometers from the station, a wormhole portal opened.  Moments later the first of the combat suited Naval Commandos came shooting through at a velocity of twenty kilometers a second.  The suit immediately started a slow deceleration, giving off minimal heat.  A second suit shot out two seconds behind the first, then another, until there were sixty of the Commandos on the way toward the station that housed the Commander of the Klavarta fleet.  It was not really that large a station as they went, only a couple of million tons, and with maybe two or three thousand personnel.

The initial plan put forward had been to destroy the station and kill the Pure human Admiral who was in charge of the Klavarta fleet, the only one this far from the homeworld who could send the codes giving the modified Klavarta control of their weapons systems.  And the one who could take those weapons away from them with another code.  The Emperor had vetoed the plan to destroy the station with antimatter warheads attached to the hull.  That would have taken the lives of innocent beings, when the only ones that needed to die were the four clones aboard the station, the commanding Admiral and his three subordinate officers.

I’m not really sure we shouldn’t have just gone for the initial use of warheads, thought Commander Nguyen Than, the officer in charge of this assault.  Doing an insertion and assault on the command staff might have saved the lives of the many Klavarta on the station.  But it put his own skin and those of his men at risk.  Which seemed to him to be a losing proposition, when most of these people were going to be killed by the Cacas anyway.

Nguyen’s suit slowed to almost a standstill by the time he reached the station, landing on the hull and adhering to it by the magnets in his armor.  A moment later his Chief landed, followed by more, another every two seconds.

“Let’s get into this can and do the job,” he told his men over the short range com.

“There’s an access hatch over here, sir,” said one of the Petty Officers.  “Let me link into the station system and let us in.”

Good thing we got their operating system from the rebellion, thought the Commander, sending his agreement to the PO.

It took several tries before the order was accepted, and the hatch slid open.  The Commandos filed in, five at a time through the airlock, spreading out along the corridors as they entered the station proper.

“Remember, stunners only until we reach the targets,” ordered the Commander.  “Stealth fields on full.”

The suits were already wrapped in their stealth fields, rendering them all but invisible.  They would still be seen on infrared and other sensors, but they had been augmented with distortion projectors that would make them look like something they weren’t.  Like some kind of alien, in this case the Maurids that the Imperials knew were servants of the Cacas.  And that the Klavarta knew of as well.

It only took minutes to push the five hundred meters into the center of the station.  One hundred of those meters were against no resistance, only a few of the warrior subspecies stunned into helplessness.  The specialist PO triggered the alarm that signaled evacuation of the station, removing thoughts of resistance from the great majority of the crew, who ran hell bent for the escape pods and shuttles.

They caught the Admiral and his three subordinates leaving the command center, themselves heading for the shuttle bay.  Nguyen had lost three men at this point, and was not in the best of moods.  He gunned down the targets himself with a particle beam, leaving their charred and partially vaporized remains on the floor.  He felt some guilt in killing them, realizing that some of these people had been around since the end of Old Earth.  And also realizing that was why they needed to go.  Cloning was forbidden, and for good reason.

“The station is evacuated, sir,” said the Chief over the com.

“Then set the devices and let’s get out of here,” ordered the Commander, watching as the men with the antimatter devices set them and moved away.

Nguyen looked back just before he flew through the wormhole, just in time to see the weapons they had left behind detonate within the station, blasting it to small pieces and plasma.

Minutes after the last Commando left the system, a ship came through the temporarily expanded wormhole.  One of the new two hundred thousand ton stealth scout ships, capable of travelling through both hyper VI and subspace, the ship had arrived without the wormhole it normally used to carry away all of its revealing waste heat.  It took about five minutes for the ship to take the wormhole it had transited into its hull and set up its heat sink.  With that it disappeared from all sensors that could possibly spot it, and started accelerating slowly toward the edge of the system, simultaneously watching the space around it and reporting instantaneously to headquarters, and ensuring that at least one wormhole gate of the Empire would remain in this space, and in human hands.

*      *      *

At the under the mountain base that housed the Klavarta homeworld ground and orbital defense command, and the General who also had the codes to the entire system weapons array, another wormhole opened.  It had taken over twelve hours to maneuver the almost microscopic hole through the heavily guarded entrances and down the elevators to the command center.  The operator had sat in tense anxiety, sweating as she maneuvered past all of the security that had been set to make this base impenetrable.  And so it might have been, against someone who didn’t control wormhole technology.

There was little security in the command center itself.  Who had seen the need, when any attack would have to get past ten thousand warriors and the heaviest security in the system.  In fact, many in the government had thought it paranoid to spend so much time and effort to make it so impregnable.  It was short work to disable any of the alarm systems that were present, setting some of them to continue recording, while the others got only static.

The wormhole opened in a small conference room as the order came, and the hit squad came through in full stealth, blurring as their invisibility fields bent light around them.  Following them were the three puppets, Ca’cadasans in everything but mind, wearing light combat armor, all that was thought to be needed for this part of the op.  They clanked ahead, heading for the control center that was down a short corridor.  There were some soldiers at the end of the hall, at the final security checkpoint before the command center.  They panicked as the Cacas came into sight, almost falling over each other to pull their weapons.  The stealthed Rangers took them down with stunners.  After all, they wanted witnesses to the Cacas killing their commander.

The General was sitting in front of the tactical holo of the system, his two clone subordinates and a duty squad monitoring the battle.  The puppets were the first to burst through the doors, catching the attention of everyone in the room.  The men and women working the panels in the command center turned in shock to see their worst nightmare among them.  A couple reached for weapons.  Three laser shots and the brains that housed the consciousnesses that had known Old Earth and inhabited multiple bodies were no more.  They might be resurrected from memories that were stored elsewhere, and placed in new cloned bodies.  But this time that would not be allowed to happen.

The two crew that had pulled weapons fired at the puppets, while the Rangers, still invisible, put high velocity rounds through the faces of the giant aliens, dropping them dead and unmoving to the floor.  The evidence was planted, witnesses had seen the invasion, and now the Rangers slipped from the room and ran silently back to the conference room.

The hit team went back through the wormhole, leaving behind the stunned forms of the guard detail, the shocked crewmembers of the control room, and the three Caca bodies.  Alarms were going off all over the base, while the wormhole was again shrunk to microscopic size and maneuvered out of the base, this time more quickly as there was no need to hide from alarms that were already triggered.

At the same time teams hit the command station in orbit, as well as the other three strongholds, one on another station, two on ships, that held more of the clones, more of the government that had enslaved their modified human servants and committed genocide on numerous now extinct aliens.  Again, they didn’t stand a chance against an enemy they hadn’t suspected was already in their midst.  Until there was only one nest of clones left in the system, the largest and deadliest of them all.

*     *     *

“Command has a priority tasking for us, Captain,” said the Mzzarat, turning to look at the wing commander.  “One squadron, and they want the target hit hard.”

The Klassekian closed her eyes and went back to projecting the image in her mind, sent from one of her sisters at the com center, back into the holo.

Chou took a quick look at the holo, noting that one of his wings was about to exit their warp bubbles and strike at the leading element of the Caca fleet.  His wing, the one his own ship was assigned to, was about ten minutes away from their attack on one of the flanking elements.

“Which squadron?”

“Ours, Captain.  We are the closest to the target, and they still want the rest of the wing to continue on to their objective.”

“Very well.  Order the rest of the squadron to change vectors to the coordinates they give us.”

“Change vector to seventeen point four one degrees rimward.  Five point two two three degrees ecliptic.”

The pilot called back the vector change and set them on it, while the twelve ships in the squadron followed.

“Target located,” said the Klassekian com tech, closing her eyes, until the icons they were tasked to hit appeared on the holo.

“Calculating decel and point of entry into normal space,” called out the navigator, running the numbers that included the vector, velocity and acceleration of the enemy ships as well as their own.  “Target locked,” said the Navigator, sending the information to the Pilot and the Com Tech so they could adjust acceleration and order the other ships to do the same respectively.  The plan was to come out within ten light seconds of the enemy, at point nine-five light, the same velocity they had been at when they raised the warp bubbles.  Any faster or slower risked a kinetic feedback that would turn the ship, and the crew, into fast moving particles, pure energy.

“Seventh wing is about to hit their target,” called out Mzzarat.  The holo changed to the view as seen from the rearmost ship of that wing, the one that would have the best view of the attack.  “Fifteen seconds.”  A counter appeared at the top of the holo, showing when that ship was scheduled to jump back into normal space.

“First ships jumping,” called out the Com Tech, and the holo split, one side still showing the view from the rearmost ship, the other the tactical holo of the enemy formation as transmitted by a composite of the first couple of squadrons.  They were on a perfect approach, coming in from the side at point nine five light, at this point eight light seconds out.  In less than nine seconds they would interpenetrate the enemy force, and fly through in less than fifteen seconds from contact.  At that same moment the green vector arrows of missiles separated from the fighters, two from each craft, boosting ahead at ten thousand gravities.

The ship that was their point of view jump out of warp, into a blue shifted universe.  The computers of the fighter compensated for most of the shift, but there still wasn’t much to see on visual.  On tactical there was a hell of a lot to see, as missiles calved, releasing ten smaller warheads each, twenty weapons heading for each target.  There were some bright flashes as weapons hit their targets ahead, the light from those hits reaching the viewing ship several seconds after the strike.  The point of view vessel had already released its missiles, boring in on ships that had yet to be targeted.

The wing flew through the enemy force, launching weapons of opportunity as targets presented themselves.  There was a response from the enemy, too little, too late.  Two of the fighters were hit, and at their size any hit meant total destruction.  One hundred and eight made it all the way through the formation, leaving over one hundred and forty enemy ships dead in their wake, another thirty-two damaged.  As soon as all launched their on-board missiles they raised their warp bubbles and disappeared from the Universe, moving away at point nine five light, decelerating at their maximum rate and curving their vector so they could return to the Klavarta homeworld and rearm.

“Perfect,” said the Pilot with a smile.

“Yep,” said Chou, wondering how long they would be able to surprise these particular Cacas.  Hopefully for the duration of this mission, she thought, turning her attention to the next wing going in, the one they had separated from for this priority attack, her wing.

*     *     *

“What in the hells was that?” shouted the Tactical Officer.  The Great Admiral, who had been talking with his Chief of Staff, turned quickly in time to see a hundred small vector arrows that hadn’t been there before, and hundreds of even smaller arrows separating from them and heading into his ships at high velocity.  Moments later ships began to disappear from the plot, his ships, while the intruders moved into his formation mostly unmolested.

What in the hell are those?  And where did they come from?  They moved into his formation, firing more missiles, and then just, faded away.  They were there, the trace started to slowly fade over a couple of seconds, and then they were gone.  Without a trace.

“We’ve never heard of anything like that,” said the shocked Chief of Staff, staring at the holo.  “Where the hell did they get them, and why haven’t they used them before?”

“They would have to be something new,” said the Great Admiral, hoping that he was speaking the truth, and not just engaging in wishful thinking.  “Something they have just developed.  So they can’t have very many of them, correct?”  He looked up at his Chief of Staff, looking for agreement.

“I would think not, my Lord.  But we will not really know until the battle develops further.”

The Great Admiral glared at the other male, angry that he had not gotten total agreement.  But that’s not his job, thought the big Ca’cadasan male.  And he is correct.  All we can do is hope they are limited in numbers.  Because if they have them in the thousands, we might have stuck our snouts into the jaws of a Gracca, he thought, picturing a huge predator from his people’s homeworld.

Chapter Twenty-five

In politics, everybody is free to choose his friends and allies.

Lalu Prasad Yadav.

“I understand, Director,” said Sean, looking at the tall blond woman who directed the production and research portion of the Donut.  “The Donut is, of course, still a priority.  But we need weapons platforms in that system, now, and you have the only ones readily available.”

“And if the Cacas hit us before we get replacements,” cried Lucille Yu.  “I know.  We’re at the center of the Empire, in the deepest gravity well known, and we have all of the ships out there to protect us.  Except that a lot of them have disappeared through a gate as well.”

Sean sympathized with the woman.  The Donut was the most expensive piece of infrastructure ever built, and it was the technological edge they had over the Cacas.  Add to that it had been the target of two separate attacks that had threatened its existence.  So Dr. Yu had a right to be nervous.  But he needed resources at the moment, and the resources he needed were right there, in orbit around the Donut.

“I need to sting the Cacas in the battle the Klavarta are fighting,” he told her, using his best authoritarian voice.  “They are not currently hitting us, but they are striking at a potential ally.  So I need those weapons.  But I can promise you that you will have priority on new platforms.”  You, right after New Moscow, he thought, watching as scores of tugs moved defensive platforms, laser and particle beam satellites, missile batteries, sensor stations, into the holds of a massive superfreighter.

“They’re yours to take, your Majesty,” said Yu, looking defeated.  “I just wanted to make my point, and to beseech you to repair our defenses when you can.”

“Just keep churning out those wormholes, Doctor Yu.  And the negative matter we need to keep them open.”  And to keep cranking out those inertia less fighters.  “And it would be nice if we finally figured out how to move a wormhole through another one.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see that in the near future, your Majesty.  We’re lucky if one in five of the test vehicles make it through.  And I know that is not acceptable.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Sean, thinking about what he knew of the experiments.  Ships that didn’t make it through intact collapsed both the hole in the transiting vehicle and the portal they were going through.  And the vessel was converted to the fast moving particles that was called energy.  So a million ton vessel became the equivalent of a half million tons of antimatter combining with the same amount of matter.  Most of that explosion came out of the exit point, but about ten percent, more or less, blew back through the entrance to the portal.  Some admirals had suggested using this as a weapon, sending wormhole equipped missiles through other wormholes.  But with the expense and utility of wormholes, it did not seem like a strategy that would pay off.

Unless, thought the Emperor, a thought running through his brilliant mind.

“I need a wormhole from you, Dr. Yu,” he told the woman while she was still on the com.  At the same time he was thinking about where he could get a ship of the proper mass to make his idea work.

*     *     *

NEW EARTH: JUNE 3RD, 1002.

“Chairwoman,” shouted the voice of the Council Security Chief over the com.  “We have Monsters in the Council complex.”

Pallion wasn’t sure if she was hearing right, staring in disbelief at her desk as she ordered the holo to pull up an image of what the Chief was talking about.  She let out a hiss of breath as she saw a trio of the Monsters, truly Ca’cadasans, blasting their way through a hasty barricade of her security personnel with heavy weapons, striding forward in the massive combat armor the aliens wore for ground assault.

“Alert the rest of the Council,” she shouted into the com.  “And where the hell are our shuttles?”

“There seems to be a problem with the shuttles, ma’am,” said the Security Officer.

“Then send what they can get off the ground.  We’ll evacuate the Council on one shuttle if we have to, and the rest of the government can follow when others become available.”

“None of the shuttles are available, ma’am.  And we just got our com net shut down.  It looks like the Monsters are jamming us.”

How the hell did they get into our capital? thought the panicking Chairwoman.  They don’t have any ships near enough to land troops.  And they would be seen, wouldn’t they?  She thought about that for a moment, a mistake when she should have been moving, but her mind was still in shock over the presence of the hated enemy within striking distance of her precious body and mind.

The Imperials have stealth ships far beyond anything we have ever seen, she thought.  Could the Monsters have developed the same?  I need to get our ships searching our local space for their assault ships.

But they were being jammed by the Monsters who had invaded the building.  So the only thing she could do was get out of the complex.  But how?  The roof, she thought.  It would mean leaving behind her spare bodies, and even her memory uploads.  But if she could get this body out, she could have new bodies quick grown, and her organic memory uploaded.  She would lose some of it, the exterior store that her implant gave her access to.  But her essential memories and personality would survive.

“Send an escort up to my office,” she told her Security Chief over the local com.  “And send squads to the offices of all the Council members.  We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Where do you want to egress from, Madam Chairwoman?”

“The roof.  We will get out by the rooftop landing pads.  Signal for aircars to meet us there.”

“We don’t have outside com, ma’am.  How do we signal?”

“Wave at people, fire flares, just do something, you idiot,” she screamed at the man, closing the com as the last word left her mouth.

The floor vibrated slightly, and she thought she could hear the faint sounds of explosions in the distance.  It made her wonder how many of the Monsters were in the complex, since she had well over a thousand security personnel on duty.  True, they weren’t in armor, and they weren’t first line combat troops.  But numbers should have counted for something.

The floor vibrated again, this time along with a slight tremor in the walls and the pictures mounted on them.  More explosions sounded, and she thought she could pick out some shouts and screams, which must have been loud and close to hear from her well insulated office.

The hell with this, thought Pallion, going to her wall safe, opening it with a genetic scan, and pulling out a heavy particle beam pistol.  I need to get out of here, right now.  She moved from her office to the outer chamber where her secretary normally sat, now vacated, wondering if it was already too late.

*     *     *

“The resistance is stiffening,” said the Yugalyth leader through the com.  “I’ve lost two puppets as this latest barricade, and I can’t figure out to take it without losing more.”

Cornelius looked at the schematic on his implant.  They had risen quickly up the tall building through elevator shafts, bypassing much of the security.  Some of his men were already on the roof, just in case the Council made it there before he could take them out.  He had tried to keep his men from killing too many of the security troops, who, in his opinion, were not very good combat soldiers.  His men were among the best combat soldiers known, and it was really unfair to kill them, almost like slaughtering baby animals.  He had still lost a few men, and about fifteen of his Caca puppets, along with two of the Yugalyth leaders.

“Conner,” he told the platoon leader of one of his two reserve formations.  “Get one of your squads behind that barricade security has put up.  Take them out.”

The LT sent back his acknowledgement, and a squad of twelve Rangers moved on the HUD to the point indicated.  We’re running out of time, thought Walborski as he checked the mission timer.  If we don’t get to those clones soon, they’re going to escape, and this will mean nothing.  He was sure that his Rangers, especially in their bogus uniforms, could run up to the executive office section in no time.  But the mission called for the Cacas, puppets and shape shifters, take them out before witnesses, and security was fighting especially fiercely against the beings they thought of as Monsters.

I really don’t like killing a lot of these damned security troopers, thought the Major, shaking his head.  But I guess I don’t have a choice.  If the clones get out, we failed.

“To all Rangers.  Rules of engagement change.  All security personnel that stand in our way are to be cleared by all means necessary.  Repeat, all means necessary.  Unarmed personnel are not to be harmed, and try to herd them into place to watch the final act.”

Cornelius did not like the order he had just given.  He didn’t like this entire operation, and thought that he would have to scrub himself for a month to feel clean again.

*     *     *

The explosions were getting closer, along with the buzzing bee sound of particle beams.  Pallion hugged the wall, waiting for Willard Smyth, who had agreed to walk point, to wave them ahead.  She had found the entire Council cowering in one of the conference rooms, waiting for security to come get them and evacuate them from the building.

Idiots, she thought, as she looked back at the hundred or so office workers that were coming with them.  They wanted to leave all these other people behind, when we can use them for cover if it comes to that.  The Cacas probably wouldn’t know who were the Council members, and who were just flunkies.  And she really didn’t care if the flunkies were killed, as long as she got away.  Hell, she really didn’t care about the other Council members, as long as she got out.

A door to the stairway opened and more human office workers came running out, eyes wide, some screaming in terror.  The sounds of fighting came through the door, coming from down below, probably no more than a floor or two lower than this one.

“We need to get moving,” said the Security Officer who was in command of her escort, and was in charge of getting all of the Council out of the building.  “The stairs at the end of the hall.  We’ll go up those and get to the roof.”

Pallion nodded in acknowledgement.  The roof was two floors up, and from there they would have access to a number of aircars that were already parked on the landing platform.  The security people could get them open and started if given a moment’s time.  They started moving, the workers trailing behind, held back by some of the security people.  That way they remained a meat barrier to whatever was coming up those stairs.

Just before they got to the door it opened, and a huge creature in battle armor stooped down to enter, a heavy rifle in its hands.  The leading security guards aimed and fired, their high velocity pistol rounds bouncing harmlessly from the armor.  The few that had particle beams tried to force themselves forward, but the crush of the crowd was too great.  The Ca’cadasan brought his rifle up as another stooped through the doorway.  A red beam shot from the rifle, accompanied by the angry buzzing sound of relativistic protons splitting the air.

“No,” yelled Pallion as the beam swung her way, burning down security guards and several Council members as it moved.  Pallion was a woman who was used to being obeyed, her word law.  But she could say nothing that would stop these death beams from burning out her life.

*     *     *

Well, that part’s done, thought Cornelius as he watched through the eyes of one of the puppets.  He recognized Pallion, and observed as the beam vaporized the upper torso of the primary target.  A third and a fourth puppet joined the first pair, and added their fire to the mix.  Scores of security personnel were burned down along with the Council, bodies partially vaporized, charred remains falling to the floor.  He had to make sure that he got all of the Council.  He couldn’t allow even one to escape, lest that one try to grab power in the future.  Another puppet and one of the shape shifters came through the door, while some more of the puppets and the second remaining Yugalyth came through the doors to the other set of stairs.

One of the security men with a particle beam finally got a shot in on one of the puppets.  The beam had to remain in contact for seconds to burn through the armor, but they had thought of this as well in planning the mission, and the creature collapsed, its heart stopped, as soon as the beam touched the suit.  More security personnel opened fire, these his own men in disguise, and soon the Cacas were all dead on the floor, puppets and shape shifters.

We had no way of getting them out without giving away the game, he thought as the other two Yugalyth in the special group were burned down.  Sorry, but your Mother gets to live, as well as the others we have in captivity, because your sacrifice shows how useful you can be to us.  And hundreds of people have witnessed this play.

“Major,” came the call over his com.  “We’ve destroyed all spare clones and the memory traces.”

“Good job.  What was the bill?”

“We lost twenty-three people, sir.”

Cornelius winced as he heard that figure.  “And collateral?”

“The vault was heavily guarded,” said the young officer.  “We had to have killed at least a hundred.  Fortunately, because of the element of surprise, we were able to stun a hell of a lot more of them.”

“Then get to the extraction point soonest,” Walborski ordered.  That point was actually the roof of the building, where resistance members would pick them up in aircars and transport them to the nearest shuttle port.  The wormhole had already been extracted.  It was needed elsewhere.  “Everyone,” he called over the com.  “If you are in the middle of engagement, disengage.  Make sure all of the puppets are dead, then head to the extraction point.”  And I’m never going to do another mission like this, thought the Soldier.  Sean can kiss my ass if he expects me to become his assassin.

*     *     *

“I have an anomaly picked up during the attack by those damned, things,” said the Sensor Officer.  The holo over his board showed a sine wave that looked like nothing the Great Admiral had ever seen, a three dimensional structure that was much like a hyperwave transit on strength enhancing drugs.

“This appeared as the first one started to fade in,” said the Sensor Officer.  “I think it was them coming out of whatever kind of warp phenomenon they were in.  It disappears when they are fully in our space, then reappears in a reverse profile as they fade back into wherever they came from.”

“So they teleported here, through some kind of warp?” asked the Chief of Staff.

“I don’t have enough information to make that kind of judgement sir,” said the Sensor Officer.

“But it gives us something to work with,” said the Great Admiral.  He looked over at the Com Officer.  “Send out an all fleet transmission.  See if anyone else picked up this anomaly.”

“Only a few ships in the fleet have the latest sensor package,” said the Sensor Officer, looking back at the Great Admiral.  “I doubt many vessels picked this up.”

“Still, make sure all vessels get this report and the data that goes with it,” ordered the Great Admiral.  “If they’re on the lookout for it, maybe we might get a few seconds warning before the next attack.  And be able to get some fire on them before they get away.”

“You might want to see this too, my Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer, switching the view on the central holo.

The Great Admiral immediately recognized the moon that was the capital of the Klavarta nation, the world they had come to crush.  The big New Terran Empire vessels were still in orbit around it, two in clear view, one just coming around the curve of the moon.  But there were a lot of other ships there, what were obviously more of the human Empire ships, one very large.  And some round ships of a type he couldn’t recognize, though the lines screamed commercial vessel.  And behind one of them, a large mirror?  That’s what it looked like, until the bow of a ship thrust through the mirror surface, which rippled as it passed.

“It’s a wormhole,” shouted the Great Admiral.  “They are real.”

“And they are passing ships from wherever they’re coming from to here, my Lord,” said the Chief of Staff.  “Which I don’t consider a positive.”

“Orders, my Lord?” asked the Tactical Officer.

“What is the status of the Klavarta fleet?”

“They have almost consolidated at a range of just over a light hour.  They are accelerating on an intercept vector at six hundred gravities.  Several thousand ships have yet to join the main force, but all are on a course to join up before they get within twenty light minutes of us.”

“Fire on that wormhole, then.  Enough missiles to ensure its destruction.  Forty thousand should do it.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer, imputing the commands on his board, which sent out the command to the rest of the fleet with the flagship code attached.  Moments later every ship within a light second of the flagship fired, then more as the order swept out, until forty thousand missiles were on their way toward the moon, set to target anything that was not a natural body in orbit around the gas giant.

“The Klavarta fleet is firing on us, my Lord,” called out the Sensor Officer.  “Forty thousand missiles tracked.  Eighty thousand.  One hundred and twenty thousand.  Acceleration, forty-five hundred gravities.  All appear to fit the standard Klavarta missile profile.”

“Return fire,” ordered the Great Admiral.  “Let’s test their defenses in a massive barrage.”

“Yes, my Lord.  Now one hundred and sixty missiles in their waves.”

Moments later another set of vector arrows started separating from the fleet, tens of thousands of them, accelerating at the standard eight thousand gravities of Ca’cadasan missiles.  More icons joined the flood every second, until over two hundred thousand of the weapons were on the way toward the Klavarta fleet.  A few minutes later came a second series of launches, targeting every significant concentration of enemy ships in the system.

With luck we have just won this battle, thought the Great Admiral, looking at the holo.  And if not, we will still have hurt them badly.  Much more than they could possibly hurt us.  After all, by their measure he had invaded the system with at least twenty times the tonnage of all the enemy ships in system combined.  Probably much more.  There really was no way to lose.

*     *     *

“Approaching attack point, now,” called out the Pilot as he activated the controls that pulled the magnetic field into a configuration to funnel the negative matter back into the storage tanks.

“All craft dropping out of warp,” said Mzzarat from her station.

Chou nodded as she looked at the tactical holo that put them at almost exactly ten light seconds from the edge of the formation, velocity point nine five light.  The other twelve ships of the formation appeared to both sides, also on an almost perfect profile.  Ahead was the outer layer of the formation, which were not their targets.  Comprised of four million ton supercruisers and six hundred thousand ton scout ships, they were the screen and escort of the ships they had come to kill.  Those ships only had seconds of warning before the attack fighters were past them and heading for the priority targets.

“Locking onto targets,” called out the Pilot, who had weapons under his control.  Reticles appeared over two of the ships that were about four light seconds ahead.  Antimatter tankers, they really didn’t have much defense against what was coming at them.  They had some counter missile defenses, which were totally useless at this range, and some close in weapons, which were useless as well because of the lack of time to bring them to bear.

The ship vibrated slightly as it dropped two of its weapons, which boosted ahead for a second before splitting into multiple warheads.  The Pilot pulled the ship up at maximum normal space accel, fifteen hundred gravities, trying to get as much separation from the targets as possible.

Both targets were hit by most of the warheads targeting them, and thousands of tons of antimatter breached containment in explosions that dwarfed the weapons that had caused those breaches.  The attack fighter absorbed megawatts of heat and radiation, and alarm klaxons sounded in the cockpit.  The fighter bucked a bit, but passed through faster than the plasma cloud that had been two antimatter tankers could travel.

“We took damage to all of our external systems,” reported the Engineering PO from the stern of the craft.  “Initiating self-repairs.”

“Can we still raise the warp bubble?” asked Chou.  If they couldn’t, they would be a target the entire way out.  While it was unlikely that any missiles fired at them would catch them at their velocity, beam weapons might get a strike, and any hit by a warship weapon would blast through the little bit of armor they had on their hull.

“Two of the magnetic field generators are offline, but the remaining six should be able to handle the bubble.”

And thank God for redundancy, thought the Captain.  “Put up the bubble, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Mzzarat shrieked, a sound that combined pain and shock.  Chou looked over at her, wondering if there was something about Klassekian physiology that was incompatible with long term space travel.  The Com Tech stared straight ahead for a few moments, then closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.

“What’s wrong, Spacer?” asked the Captain, still feeling concerned, but also needing the Com Tech to get back on the job.  We really can’t afford for her to lose it right now.

“My sister,” stammered the Tech through her speaking/breathing orifice, her ingestion orifice open in shock, large eyes staring at the Captain while her smaller motion detection orbs darted all over the place.  “She was there one moment, then gone.  It was like having part of my soul ripped out.”

The Captain grimaced.  There were eight siblings in Mzzarat’s birth litter, six of them serving aboard her wing, two at different command and monitoring stations to link them all and access the wormhole com network.  If all seven of the surviving sisters went offline, the wing would still be able to function, but they would have the same old problems with vectoring six of their craft, including the wing commander’s, onto targets.

The bubble was up, just in time, as multiple Caca ships fired on the position they would have been at if the Pilot didn’t pull their vector up to the ecliptic the moment they disappeared into warp.

“Can you function, Spacer?” asked Chou, trying to keep her tone concerned, since she knew the Spacer really didn’t need someone yelling at her at a moment like this.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mzzarat, closing her eyes.  The holo changed, first showing the attack of the attack fighter her now deceased sister had been crewing.  They put a missile each into two missile colliers.  The approach was too close to one of them, and when the warheads of over a thousand gigaton range missiles went off, a tiny attack craft within twenty thousand kilometers was toast.  The other nine thousand missiles were blasted free of the ship, half of them detonating as they flew out into space.  The view was taken from another of the attack fighters, this without one of Mzzarat’s sisters aboard.  There was a small flare, minor compared to the thousands of bright pinpoints in space that were exploding capital ship killer warheads.  But that small flare was centered in the holo due to its importance to the Klassekian who was transmitting the picture over her implant.

Mzzarat opened her eyes, staring at the holo, then closed them again.  The holo changed, showing the entire attack in replay, as vector arrows flew through the icons of the screening force, heading for the icons of the target.  Arrows representing missiles left the attack craft, two each, and homed in on their targets.  The icons of twenty-six ships disappeared right after the warheads calved, along with the vector arrow of one of the attack craft, the one containing Mzzarat’s sister.  She sucked in a breath, then closed her eyes again and concentrated on the task at hand.

Fourteen antimatter tankers, seven missile colliers, and five troop transports were gone as if they never were.  Moments later seven more ships exploded, victims of debris or missiles spinning out from one or other of the colliers.  Eight more ships stopped accelerating, or dropped to a pitiful acel as they were damaged.  For the exchange of one inertia less fighter killed, and four with varying degrees of damage, they had destroyed over sixty million tons of enemy shipping, killed at least thirty thousand Caca ground troops, and left another twenty million tons of ships heavily damaged.

I would call that a successful attack, thought the Captain, looking over at her Com Tech.  Yes, they were light casualties, with a terrific payoff.  But she had still lost a crew, five people that were under her command.  They were a new crew, and not people she knew well.  But they were still hers, and now they were gone, as if they never existed.  No, she thought.  Not as if they never existed.  Not as long as the Fleet remembers them.

Chapter Twenty-six

If God listened to the prayers of men, all men would quickly have perished: for they are forever praying for evil against one another.

Epicurus.

NEW EARTH SPACE: JUNE 3RD, 1002.

“We have forty thousand missiles targeting us, Admiral,” called out the Flag Tactical Officer, looking back at Vice Admiral Connie Wallace.

The three star flag officer nodded as she stared at the holo which showed the entire system, and all the maneuvering assets in that space.  Every asset was being tracked in almost real time by its graviton emissions, which couldn’t be hidden if a ship were accelerating at any kind of high rate.  But they were also getting feeds from the Klassekians aboard the inertia less fighters and the wormhole transmissions from the few assets in the system with them.

“Get those platforms unloaded, pronto,” she ordered, looking over at the Flag Com Officer.  She looked over at a side holo that was centered on a massive superfreighter with tugs clustered around the doors to its cargo bays.  Each tug was pulling multiple defensive weapons platforms from the hold to boost into a far orbit of the gas giant, where they would be in position for several days to intercept incoming missiles, like the storm heading their way.  We might have enough to get them all, she thought, along with the Klavarta platforms.  There were thousands of those platforms in orbit or near orbit to the New Earth moon.  She still wished she had more of the specialized missile defense ships, that were now moving out to a far interception position from the moon.  Hell, I wish I had a couple of hundred squadrons of battleships.  Not that it would have made a difference against what the Cacas were sending against her.  Six hundred battleships would still be destroyed, and the Cacas would have sent a hundred times the missiles at them if they saw those ships in orbit.

I’ve got all they’re going to send me.  I’m surprised they were able to find so many superfreighters, shuttles and tugs.  There were a lot of them in the Supersystem, but the jobs for them were also overwhelming.  It would have taken a week to cut loose what they had.  It took the Emperor an hour to get the assets moving, one reason that one man was given absolute command of the military and all civilian military assets in time of war.  There were some people in the Empire who didn’t think one man should have that much power, but wartime proved that Emperor was still a valid concept.

“How are the minelayers doing” the Admiral asked the Flag Tactical Officer, realizing as she did that the man would have no way of knowing.  All I can do is hope that they are doing their job.  And since we can’t pick them up at our sensors from ten light minutes away, we can only hope the Cacas can’t pick them, or their cargo, up from over forty light minutes away.

The Admiral turned her attention back the local area, where shuttles were rising in their hundreds from the moon, while thousands more were in the process of loading at moonside fields, or unloading at liners and cargo ships in orbit.  They were packing in the refugees standing room only on some of those ships.  After all, they only had to make it through the wormhole and a couple of hour trip to the Donut, where they would be unloaded and sent through the holes to other destinations, those that couldn’t find room on the station.  Not that the station didn’t have room for everyone on this world, but it was still a work in progress, and the facilities for housing and feeding an extra couple of billion sentients were not there yet.

Every shuttle on the moon was joining in the evacuation, and space was getting damned crowded.  Even as she watched a pair of vector arrows converged and blinked out, a midspace collision at high enough velocity to destroy both vehicles and kill everyone aboard.  The Admiral gritted her teeth and held down the words she wanted to have sent to the space traffic control center that was aboard this vessel.  She held in the retort because it was impossible for any team, even with all the computing power in the world, to control this clusterfuck of an emergency evacuation.  There were just too many birds in the air, and they were paying the most attention to the shuttles and larger vessels that were in proximity to each other.  A shuttle hitting a freighter and ripping open the hull, exposing thousands of refugees to space, was a much larger problem.

“Where in the hell are those other Klavarta ships?” she groused, trying to locate the promised commercial and logistics ships on the holo.

“There they are,” shouted one of the technical crew who were helping to monitor the traffic, pointing to several vector arrows that were approaching the moon.  There were a dozen of them, all smaller than those the Imperials were deploying for the evacuation.  More were coming around the moon they were using to sling them into the proper orbit, until over a hundred ships were on approach, more appearing every second.

“Make damn sure they slot into the orbits we want them to be in,” she ordered the Flag Com Officer.  The last thing we need is for them to try to insert into the evac pattern without getting permissions.  Of course, when the enemy missile flight got here in four hours, all of these ships would need to be through the wormhole before those weapons arrived.  Only a few might get through, but even a couple of hits on crowded evacuation ships would be a disaster.  They would bring them back after, and after they had unloaded.  And the shuttles?

“Send a message to command that we need more wormhole gates, and ships on the other side to unload our shuttles when we have to send them through.”  It couldn’t just be a problem of evacuating a heavily populated world, which would be bad enough.  But having to do so under threat of fire?  They had two other wormholes they could use, just lacking the framework and negative matter to open them up to the size they needed for shipping.  The one they had open was already expanded larger than any in the short history of wormhole gates.

“Traffic shut down from the other side, Admiral,” said the Liaison Officer.  “We have a go for outbound transit.”

“Order them through,” she said, then watched as the first ship in the queue started to boost toward the hole.

“We think we’ve located the Caca flagship, Admiral,” said the Flag Sensor Officer.

“A flagship, or the flagship?” asked Wallace, raising an eyebrow.  There would, of course, be a great number of flagships in a fleet that size.  Ships controlling task forces, groups, fleets within the fleet.  But there was only one flagship in command of the entire force.

“From the amount of grav wave traffic, we’re pretty sure this is the one,” said the officer, as one of the vector arrows, near the center of the largest leading formation that just behind the scout screen, started blinking.

“Is the wormhole ready to fire?”

“Command gives a go on the missile tubes on the other side,” said a Com Tech, sitting beside the officer in charge of that station.

“Feed them the coordinates to that flagship, along with an estimate of their position at time of interception.”  And now we’ll see how well you all coordinate with your head cut off.

*     *     *

The wormhole sat about five minutes from the gas giant system, and about a light minute to the side of the approaching Caca force.  The wormhole had a frame around it measured about five hundred meters to a side, made up of nonreflective material.  It had been much smaller when moved into position, using the plasma jet technique that allowed fast acceleration without the giveaway of gravitons.  Now it was being held in place by the merest of nudges of the grabber units on the frame, still undetectable from the range that the nearest Caca ship was currently at.  On the other side of the wormhole were placed the exit holes of thirty of the missile acceleration tubes that had proven so effective in the recent past.  Each launcher had thirty missiles accelerating through a three thousand kilometer long tube over and over between an entry and exit wormhole, building up velocity until they hit point nine light.

Now the operator on the other end nudged the wormhole in the Klavarta home system just a bit, lining it up on the aiming point where it was hoped the enemy target would be at the end of the missile flight.  Of course they couldn’t actually aim at the ship in question, and there was no guarantee that the vessel they wanted would be in the right place at the right time.  And the missiles wouldn’t go active and start vector changes on targets until they were ten light seconds out.  But no matter what, this was something that was going to freak these particular Cacas, who had never heard of this trick, right out of their furry hides.

In the tubes, the exit wormhole shrunk to microscopic size and was jerked out of the way of the line of missiles.  They flew through the wormhole gate, across over thirty thousand light years of space, and into the Klavarta home system in an instant of time.   Nine hundred weapons, each a ship killer, headed for the Caca fleet at point nine light, undetectable, invisible.

*     *     *

“I  demand you let me and my family get on that shuttle right now,” shouted the red faced man who was trying to jump to the front of the line with a woman and three children in tow.

“Back at the end of the line,” growled Tia’lash, the Phlistaran Platoon Sergeant, whose unit was detailed to control the evacuation at this field.

“But, I’m a Pure,” complained the man, turning to look at the huge dracocentauroid.  “I…”  The words died in his throat as he looked up at the frightening looking alien.

“You’re more important than these other beings?” asked the Sergeant, gesturing to the mostly Alphas and Warriors standing in line, almost exclusively children and youths.  He glared down at the clearly uncomfortable man.   “Get back at the end of the line.”

“Do you know who I am?” asked the man.

The Yugalyth known as Davin McCarthy cringed as she/it watched the confrontation.  She was a copy of a Pure, the one made by Lt. Lila Abernathy.  The original had been a student, a young female who still looked like an adolescent.  She was sure she would eventually be allowed to board one of the shuttles, but she was also aware of the need to keep a low profile.  And this, fool, was here to make things more difficult for all the Pures.

“I know that you are not going to board any of the shuttles at this field,” said the Imperial Marine.  “Now get the hell out of the line.  Your wife and children may get to the end, and they will be boarded in order.  But not you.”

The man opened his mouth to protest again, and found himself looking down the barrel of a particle beam.  He grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her behind him, the children following.

“Where are we going?” the woman whined.

“Someplace where the damned aliens aren’t in control,” he shouted, storming off.

Davin waited for a beam to strike the man and kill him.   But the Marines were too disciplined to let anger lead their actions.

Finally, she was waved onto a shuttle.  Now the fate of her mission was no longer in her hands, which was worrisome in and of itself.  But she was going to get off the moon, which was a good first step.

*     *     *

“Can you stop the Monsters from destroying our world?” asked Admiral Manstara, sitting in the defense station in orbit around New Earth, taking the place of the now deceased Pure Admiral.  He was now the ranking member of the Klavarta military, at least in this system, the first time one of his subspecies had ever held that rank.

“Not a chance, Admiral,” said Natasha Sung.

“But your technology.”

“We would need just about our entire fleet to stop this Ca’cadasan force,” said Sung.  “Unfortunately, we are also fighting a war, and our fleet is scattered all over our space.”  And even if we could get them all here at this time, I don’t think we could survive the mauling we would take, not in the long run.  The Cacas are still out there on our front as well, and we will surely see more of them in the near future.  “We will do what we can, but the most we can promise is to evacuate as many of your people as possible.”  Which doesn’t mean all of them.  We’ll be lucky if we get half of them.

“Missiles will be in attack range in seven minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer, Marko Fujardo.

Sung grimaced as she looked at the holo, which was an almost exact duplicate of the ones on all of the other Imperial ships in the system.  The formation of light cruisers and destroyers were less than a minute from contact with the missiles.  Five light minutes behind them was the barrier of defensive platforms in far orbit around the gas giant, almost in the perfect position to take on the incoming weapons.  And behind them, the massive defensive battery of the Klavarta.

“And where are the evacuation ships?” cried the Admiral.

Sung grimaced at the tone of the question, as well as the fact that they had explained this to the Admiral and his staff just a couple of hours ago.

“Those missiles are going to come in seeking the first target they can find, Admiral.  And we do not want ships full of refugees in the way.”

“Acceptable losses,” said the Klavarta Admiral.  “We are willing to pay the price to get more of our people out of here.  Instead of wasting time.”

“The losses are not acceptable to us, Admiral,” said Sung, shaking her head.  “Those are our ships you are talking about.  Now, if you want to complain to our Admiral, and demand that your own ships continue the evacuation, you can do so.  But I advise against it.”

“The missile defense ships are engaging the incoming ma’am,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“I’ll talk to you when this is over, Admiral.  Sung out.”

She turned away from the now fading holo and turned her full attention to the Tactical Plot.  The icons of the Caca missiles looked like a tidal wave about to overwhelm a shore.  Green icons, thousands of them, were leaving the missile defense ships, launched from the cells on their hulls.  The waves met, and red arrows started to fall off the plot, as well as the green.  At least three green were disappearing for every red, which was not a good sign.  Counters were missing, and then self destructing when there was nothing for them to target.  Or going off on closest approaches.  There were direct hits as well, counters detonating within meters of the target.  And some proximity kills, where a counter went off close enough to a Caca weapon to overload its systems and send it spinning out of control.

The duel went on for thirty seconds, the ships firing their lasers as the missiles closed to within fifteen light seconds.  Now it was beam weapons trying to hit missiles that had gone into full evasive maneuvers.  Eight hundred more were killed, and the remaining thirty-seven thousand closed, most passing through the screen, about a thousand going for the Imperial ships that had not been in their original targeting profile.

Thirty-six thousand missiles continued on, while the plasma of nine light cruisers and nineteen destroyers spread in the space behind them.  They flew for about another minute before the hundreds of defense platforms scattered to their front starting cycling their counter missiles or releasing swarms from their launcher cells.  Again it was a duel, with missiles doing everything they could to avoid contact, the platforms trying to determine the pattern of the evasives and nailing the weapons.

Twenty-one thousand weapons made it through, while taking out about two hundred of the platforms.  Now there was nothing the Imperials had placed in their way, except for the exploration ships and the few warships in orbit.  But New Earth was not helpless.  The Klavarta had platforms in space, almost ten thousand of them, as well as some ships, and even ground based weapons.  They all opened up on the missiles when they were a light minute from impact.  First a couple of hundred missiles fell off the plot, then hundreds more, then thousands, until it looked like most of the wave was going to be stopped.  The bright pinpoints of antimatter blasts speckled the sky like a fireworks display as the last couple of thousand weapons moved in, leaving behind about half the Klavarta defensive platforms.

Everything that could fire on them was now putting out as much firepower as possible, some to the point of burning out.  Ground based weapons made to take on capital ships fired wide beams into the path of missiles, and hundreds detonated as gigawatt laser beams struck for a microsecond.  Three score of weapons came streaking in, seeking their targets.  Two of the Klavarta cruiser class ships went up in spreading plasma.  Two Klavarta liners that had refused to leave until they were fully loaded went up as missiles rushed through their nonexistent defenses, vaporizing them and their passengers.  They had warned the Klavarta not to have any of their evacuation vessels in orbit when the barrage came in.  The captains of those two liners had ignored the warning, and sixty thousand evacuees had paid for it.

The superbattleship Prince Henry rocked from a trio of near misses.  And the Santa Maria took two hits, the second a redundancy that did little but spread the plasma out a little faster.

Sung stared in shock as she watched one of her ships disintegrate with everyone aboard.  All the officers she knew, the crewpeople she was familiar with, gone in that microsecond.  At least they didn’t feel anything, she thought, though that seemed small consolation to those men and women.

“We are sorry for your loss, Commodore,” said Admiral Manstara as the holo came back to life.  “Your losses, I mean.  And we lost those two liners with all the people aboard.  But the defenses you brought proved their worth.”

“You realize they’re going to hit us with an even more massive barrage, Admiral,” said Sung, staring at the face of the Alpha.

“Yes.  I do.  Which makes it even more important that we get this evacuation going again.”

As he said that the snout of the first liner poked back through the wormhole.  Minutes later a line of ships was coming through, while a second wormhole gate started to expand as framing and negative matter was fed into it.

*     *     *

The Great Admiral stared with bated breath as he watched his two attacks going in.  Against the Klavarta fleet he was at least able to do damage assessment.  All of the ships were accelerating his way, trackable by their gravitons.  They were also trackable by their disappearing from the plot when they were destroyed and no longer capable of emitting gravitons.  Of course, some fell off the plot when sustaining major damage to their drive systems, but those ships were as good as destroyed in the long run.

Now they were tracking their missiles against the habitable moon and the vessels and stations around it.  None of those objects were emitting gravitons, and they were still about forty light minutes away, which meant they would only be able to visually observe the attack long after the fact.

“They seem to be taking out a lot of our missiles from range, my Lord,” stated the Tactical Officer.

“But is that because they are able to engage at that range, or do they have ships stationed out there?” asked the Chief of Staff.

There really wasn’t an answer to that question, only the observation that multiple thousands of the missiles were falling off the plot.  The same thing happened minutes later, and the Admiral thought it must be because they had run into another layer of defense.  Then they were heading into the orbit of the moon, and most of the rest of the missiles fell off the plot, then the rest.

“How in the hell did we do?” asked the Admiral, not really sure how they had done.  He didn’t think enough missiles had gotten through to do much damage, and wished that he had launched ten times that amount in the first volley.

“Another volley, my Lord?” asked the Tactical Officer.

The Great Admiral stared at the holo for a moment longer, holding down the rage.  Those impossible attack craft had hit one of his logistics groups and hurt him badly.  He had also lost several hundred warships to them, and really wasn’t sure that he had hit them back at all.

“A hundred and fifty thousand missiles,” he finally said.  “Set to go after whatever target presents itself, no matter the distance from the moon.”

It didn’t take long to send that volley on its way, not with twenty thousand warships firing.  Only half of his force fired, a full volley each, and the wave was on the way.  He was sure this one would crush that moon and whatever shipping and orbital infrastructure it had around it.

“Missile volley from Klavarta fleet to contact in seven minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer.

The Great Admiral grunted and turned back to look at the tactical holo, which showed the wave of Klavarta missiles heading toward them, and a minute back another equally massive wave, and another behind that, until twelve complete clouds of weapons headed at them.  It was a smart move in a way, since missiles were more effective at long range as they built up velocity.  It would have been smarter to stagger their acceleration profiles so that all of them came in at the Ca’cadasan fleet in one wave.  They had not done that, and the Great Admiral had no doubt that his force would handle each wave.  He would still lose ships, but not that many.

*     *     *

Wallace cursed under her breath as the seventh wave of missiles from the Klavarta fleet impacted the Caca force.  Or it might be better to say that they were not impacting the Caca fleet.  The Cacas might have lost a hundred ships, for a cost of eight hundred thousand weapons.  It was a waste in all respects.

And a hundred and fifty thousand weapons were heading her way.  She had no illusions as to the ability of her defenses to stop that wave.  And if they did, there would be another one after it.  There really was no way to win this battle.  The only measure that counted was how many people they got away before the Cacas killed them.

“We need more shuttles,” she said into the com.

“We don’t have any more to give you,” replied Grand High Admiral Sondra McCullom over the com.  “We’re in the process of sending you some more liners and freighters, as well as nine old battleships that can take about forty thousand people each.  And, course, several thousand more of the volunteer private craft from the various supersystem star systems.”

That last was really helpful, as these ships, some with interstellar capabilities, most without, would be able to land on the moon and take on passengers.  The biggest problem was that most would not be able to take more than twenty passengers, while straining their life support systems to the breaking point.

“The liners and freighters really won’t do us much good if we can’t get people from the surface of the moon into space, Admiral,” complained Wallace.  “You’ve got a whole system defense fleet around that black hole.  And tugs.  Lots of tugs, some of which can make a landing and lift people off.  What about them?”

“I’ll look into it, Admiral.  McCullom out.”

Wallace stared at the blank holo for a moment.  She felt the guilt of not being able to get more people off the moon, even though she was doing everything in her power to do so.

*     *     *

“Good job, Cornelius,” said the Emperor over the com.

Walborski stood on the deck of the gateroom, looking at the face of his Monarch and friend in the holo over the counter.  It had taken some time to egress from the mission.  First an aircar ride, in a convoy, to a shuttle field.  And not the nearest field, no, but to one almost a thousand kilometers from the city.  Then a flight up to one of the exploration ships which still had a wormhole on-board, and the long step across to the Donut.  To be informed that his Emperor wanted to speak to him.  For what, congratulations on carrying out a perfect assassination mission?

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

“What’s wrong, Cornelius?” asked Sean, a frown on his face.

“It’s just that I have a bad taste in my mouth, your Majesty.”

“Call me Sean, Cornelius.  I have a feeling you need to talk to me as a friend, and not your Emperor.  So you feel dirty for executing some people that we needed, that I needed taken out.  Fair enough.  But that doesn’t mean that they didn’t need to be eliminated.  How would you feel if I made myself immortal through cloning and became the Eternal Emperor Sean, the man without a conscience?  That was essentially what Pallion and her crew did.”

“I understand that we needed them out of the way,” said Cornelius.  “That we needed an ally, and that they needed one as well, and that wasn’t going to happen as long as these people were in power.  But wasn’t there another way to do it?  A more up front way, that didn’t involve killing some poor slobs who were just doing their jobs?”

Sean looked at him for a moment, an expression of sorrow on his face.  “I’m sorry, my friend, but we couldn’t afford to have them in power, lest Parliament and the media sabotage any efforts to forge an alliance.  And we didn’t have a high enough percentage of the population of their nation, modified and unmodified humans both, on the side of the rebellion, to allow any of them to escape.  A civil war might have broken out, and that would have done no one any good.”

“So, why me?”

“Because you were the one man in the Empire I knew would let nothing stop him from completing this mission.  You think of it as an assassination.  But how was it different than when you took out that enemy HQ on Azure.  These were enemy leaders, in that they stood in the way of our powers combining, and giving us a chance to win this war.  I understand your reservations, and I will not ask such of you again.  But I have to let you know that Ekaterina has requested your transfer to IIA.  She thinks you will make a hell of an agent.  And so do I.”

“No thanks, Sean.  I’m a soldier.”

“You would get a promotion.  As an agent, you would be the equivalent of a full colonel.”

“I would rather resign my commission and go back to being a common soldier, your Majesty,” hissed Cornelius, feeling his anger start to rise, pushing him toward the edge.

“No,” said Sean, holding up a hand.  “No one will force you to leave the Army.  Keep your commission.  I have big plans for you, no matter what part of the Imperium you are working for.  Just come right to the palace.  Your family would like to see you again.  The Empress and myself would enjoy your company.”

“I’m not sure if I would be very good company, your Majesty,” said Cornelius, now feeling embarrassed at how he had spoken to his Monarch.

“You speak your mind, Cornelius.  You speak the truth.  So your company is always desired.  So get your ass to the gate to the Hexagon, and get to the palace as fast as possible.”

The holo went dead.  Cornelius still felt angry at his Emperor.  But he considered the pressure that was on the man.  A trillion beings depended on him to make the decisions that would allow them to go on living free.  He shook his head as he went over to his Sergeant Major to let him know where he was going, and to make sure the men were taken care of.  His job was hard.  The Sergeant Major’s job was hard.  But no one had a harder job than the young man he had just gotten off of the com with.

*     *     *

Sean took in a deep breath as the holo died, the signals of a half dozen other coms coming in over his implant.  Everyone wanting his attention for some important matter or other, right now.  He thought about how much easier it would be to be a lowly junior naval officer, an option no longer open to him.  Even if he were to step down as Emperor, the Fleet would allow him nothing less that flag rank, which, while not quite as stress producing as his current rank, would still be so in very different ways.  And there was no one, literally no one, with the proper lineage that he would trust to take over.

So I’m stuck with it, no matter what I want, he thought.  And if I don’t end losing up the entire Empire, the entire species, I’m likely to be Emperor for more than a hundred years.  Probably many more.  And how will I be seen in the history books?

That was the question.  Constance had not been known as the Great during her lifetime.  Only after she had died had that label been attached to her.  Some of the truly terrible Emperors had been tagged with ‘the Mad,’ or the ‘Terrible.’  He laughed for a moment at that.  So if I really suck at this job, I’m likely to know what I will be called for all time before I die.  And if I do a great job, I will never know.

Sean was still chuckling to himself as he made contact to the com that was tagged as the most important.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Violence isn’t always evil. What’s evil is the infatuation with violence.

Jim Morrison.

NEW EARTH SPACE.

“The scouts have run into something, my Lord,” called out the Com Officer.  The scout screen was twenty light seconds ahead of the main body, while the flagship was fifteen light seconds back from the front of that formation.  The com was coming in by grav wave, almost instantaneously, but with little information other than coded text.

“Well, what is it, you idiot?” yelled the Great Admiral.  At the same time the tactical holo lit with red vector arrows coming out of nowhere.

“One of the scouts was struck by a missile, my Lord.  Now they are reporting multiple missile launches.”

“Mines?” asked the Chief of Staff.

“Mines,” growled the Great Admiral.  “Somehow they seeded mines in front of our path.”

Mines were actually single shot missile platforms, passively stealthy, sitting hidden in space until a target was almost on top of them.  They then launched their capital ship killer missiles, too late for most ships to react.

Several of the scout icons disappeared from the plot, moments later some more.  It was a masterfully laid trap.  There was no way the fleet could now avoid them.  They were in the deceleration phase of their trip into the gas giant system.  They had no way of avoiding the minefield that was now less than ten light seconds ahead of the main body of the fleet.  Fortunately the scout screen was going to take the brunt of it.

There were thousands of the mines, and maybe one in ten achieved a hit, which still killed or severely damaged a hundred and forty-one scouts.  A score or so of the mines didn’t fire on the scouts, and took out a pair of supercruisers in the main body.  It was a sting, but a minor one.

If they expected this to slow us down, they were wrong.  And our missile volley will be striking them in another twenty minutes.  He looked back at the holo, to see the remainder of the Klavarta fleet, still forging ahead, a mere shadow of itself.  This was shaping up into a total victory for his Empire.  They would destroy the Klavarta home fleet, annihilate the homeworld, and hurt the New Terran Empire at the same time.  The only negative was the exchange rate from those damned impossible fighters, some of which had come back for a second attack.  He had lost hundreds of ships to them, for an exchange of maybe thirty of the fighters, maybe less.

But we know how to track them, at least in the final stages, as they’re coming back into normal space from wherever they had been.  Eventually our people will figure out how to anticipate their attacks.

Moments later the next shock struck, as one of the superbattleships on the edge of the main body flared in a bright flash and converted into a plasma cloud.  Seconds later a supercruiser a little further in did likewise.  Three more ships went up a second later, as if something was working its way in through the ships of the fleet.

“What the hells,” called out the Tactical Officer as the icons of vessels dropped off the plot, the computer blinking them for a second to show the loss of graviton signals.  More ships disappeared, as if an invisible weapon was picking them out at random and erasing them from the universe.

“What is that?” growled the Great Admiral as the path of destruction worked its way in toward the center of the fleet.  Most of the ships were bypassed, and there was no apparent reason behind which ships were being destroyed.

“We’re getting reports of missile tracks,” called out the Com Officer, who was reading the text from multiple grav wave transmissions.  “They’re barely picking them up as they pass within two hundred thousand kilometers, then losing them.”

“They’re coming in ballistic?”

“They seem to be, my Lord.”

“And where are they coming from.  How were they launched?  How did they build up such velocity without us picking them up?”

“Unknown, my Lord,” called out the Sensor and Tactical Officers simultaneously.

Suddenly, over six hundred red vector arrows appeared on the plot, driving forward at ten thousand gravities.  Targeting the ships in the center of the fleet formation.  All heading for whatever vessel was closest to each, and five were heading toward the flagship.

Immediately every ship with five light seconds of a missile opened fire with every defensive weapon they had.  No one had much time for target acquisition, and most missed with counter missiles and beam weapons.  There were hits, and at least sixty missiles disappeared in bright flares of light.  Some of the beams hit other ships, ripping through electromag fields and surface armor.  A few counter missiles struck vessels as well, doing minor damage.  Close in systems took missiles under fire as they bore in, having less than a second to engage.

The flagship rocked and shuddered as missiles detonated at close range, the last no more than a couple of kilometers from the hull.  The fast moving plasma from that weapon blasted through the electromagnetic field and into the armor, blowing into the flagship and killing almost a hundred crew.

When the blasts cleared, there were two hundred and twenty-four ships destroyed, and a few others damaged, including the flag.

“They must have been sent in ballistic, set to penetrate to the center of our formation, trying to take us out,” said the Tactical Officer.  “They must have randomly hit some ships on the way in, or we never would have known they were there until they went active.”

“And how many more of those are coming at us?” asked the Chief of Staff.

“Order all ships to change their intervals and positions,” the Great Admiral told the Com Officer.   He looked over at the Helm Officer.  “Move us five hundred thousand kilometers further back in the formation and three hundred thousand kilometers to port.  All ships to drop deceleration for one minute, then return to original decel.  We’ll make it a little more difficult for them to target us from long range.”

The Great Admiral sat there in silence for some minutes, thinking about the ships he had just lost to a surprise strike that had cost the enemy nothing but some missiles, achieving an unheard of kill ratio.  And where in the hells did they come from?  More of their wormhole magic?

“One of the ships in our portside screen is picking up hundreds of the anomalies,” reported the Com Officer.  “They… They’re under attack by those fighters.”

The  Great Admiral looked up at the tactical plot, to see almost three hundred red vector arrows driving into that side of his fleet.  More vector arrows left the objects, missile launches.  Fifty-three of his ships disappeared from the plot, along with twenty-two of the incoming fighters, which soon disappeared again from the plot, this time going into whatever state is was they came from.

Almost three hundred red vector arrows appeared, driving in from another angle, again launching, taking out sixty-two ships for the cost of fourteen of theirs.  And then they were gone.  The Great Admiral cursed.  He had lost over three hundred ships in less than five minutes, with very little damage to the enemy.  Those must be all of those fighters they have, or they would have attacked with more.

“How long before our second wave of missiles reaches that moon?” he growled, angry as hell and wanting to strike back.

“Twenty minutes, my Lord,” called out the Tactical Officer.

And then you will get the payback you deserve, he thought, fascinated with the holo that was showing doom descending on his enemy.

*     *     *

Chou looked at the holo that showed the enemy fleet falling behind her fighter, and the massive waves of missiles heading toward the gas giant system.  I guess that’s all we can do, she thought.  All of their support ships were either back in the Supersystem, or soon to be heading through one of the two ships gates back to Imperial space.  We really hit them hard, but not hard enough to stop them.  Maybe if we’d had ten thousand of these ships, but not six hundred.

‘Setting course to system egress and rendezvous, ma’am,” said the Pilot, setting the path into his board.

And now we ride this small ship for a month, she thought.  Not really what they were intended for.  But it was the only way to get out of the system.  By the time they could get back to the wormhole gates it would be too late.  So they would cruise for a month at twice the speed of light and come back into normal space two light months out, where they would rendezvous with one of the scout ships, which would open a gate for them to return to Imperial space.  Not her preferred means of leaving the battle space, but at least it would allow them to leave with their ships, to fight again another day.

And when we hit the Cacas on our front, our new way of operating will catch them by surprise, since the news of this attack will not reach that sector of their Empire for over a year, probably longer.

Another advantage of the wormhole gates and the bypass of the communication lag the enemy still operated under.  Hopefully it would be enough of an advantage to come out the final victor in this war.

*     *     *

“Missile impact in fifteen minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“We need you to go, Admiral Manstara,” said Natasha Sung over the com, looking into the face of the Alpha.  Shuttles were leaving the station, taking most of the crew off, but the stubborn Admiral had refused to leave.  “Please, your people are going to need your leadership, and this war is far from over.”

“I can’t leave these people behind,” the Alpha said in a pleading tone, sweeping a gesture back at the holo of the moon of New Earth behind him.

Sung nodded, understanding how he felt.  There were still two billion people on that moon who would not get away.  With the storm of missiles coming in, there were sure to be a number of hits on the moon, and there wasn’t enough lift in the system to get them out.

She looked back at her own tactical holo, and all of the vector arrows on it, almost all of them headed for one of the two wormhole gates in orbit.  Liners, freighters, troop transports, old battleships and battle cruisers and heavy cruisers, obsolete, but still capable of carrying refugees.  All packed to where their life support systems were strained to the breaking point.  Along with them were tens of thousands of shuttles and multiple private ships, also packed, no longer concerned with docking with larger vessels in this space.  They would get to safety, then unload as transport became available.

Tugs were also pulling most of the stations out of orbit toward the gates, all but the two monster forts, including the one the Klavarta Admiral was on.  The stations were also packed, and the tugs.  And thousands of suborbital craft were rising off the surface and reaching up to orbit, higher than they could get to on their own, using the extra grav units that had been installed to let them get into space.  They would disappear through the wormhole and into Supersystem space.  The craft were still spaceworthy as far as life support went, and they could keep their passengers alive until they were picked up by a larger ship.

The defense station was too large to fit through the wormholes unless they were widened considerably, and that was not going to happen.  Some of its smaller modules had been cut off and pulled through the wormholes by tugs, also filled with people.  It reminded Sung of something from Earth history, but she couldn’t place it.  Dunkirk, it finally came to her.  It was like that evacuation, pulling as many soldiers and, in this case, workers, as they could from an enemy advance.

“What good is it going to do for your people if you die here, Admiral?  We can get you off and onto this ship in a couple of minutes.”  The Nina was just off the huge station by a couple of hundred kilometers.  They were also packed to the brim, and all of their shuttles were in use.  But they still had a pair of small repair capsules that could be used to transport a couple of passengers.

“Admiral Wallace is asking when we are going to get in our evacuation position in the queue?” said the Com Officer.

We have almost fifty thousand people on this ship, thought Sung.  There were even Klavarta military personnel sitting on the floor of the bridge, trying to stay out of the way.  The hangars were packed with people, no small craft on-board.  The two repair capsules she still retained were attached to airlocks, ready for emergency use.

“Admiral.  We have to move.  We’ve gotten three billion of your people out.  I wish I could get them all, but the Cacas aren’t going to let that happen.  You staying here will accomplish nothing.  It will not help your people.  It will help your people, all of your people, if you let us evacuate you.  They trust you, and we’re going to need that link with them.”

The Klavarta Admiral looked around the control room, completely empty but for him.   He shook his head, looking at the globe of his homeworld.  “Very well,” said the highest ranking survivor of the system government, tears in his eyes.  “Go ahead and send your capsule to pick me up.  And may God have mercy on my soul.”

Sung nodded at her Tactical Officer, who also was monitoring this evac mission.  That officer sent the message sending the capsule on its way.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

Sung sat in her chair, looking at the tactical holo as the wave of missiles kept getting closer.  It held a morbid fascination for her, the death of a world approaching at high relativistic speeds, like a natural disaster, a supernova, that they could do nothing about.

“Missile impact in five minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer.

Sung looked at the tactical holo again.  Now New Earth space was nearly empty, only the large defense stations and a couple of ships still on the display.  Pinta was going through the portal, just ahead of the Nina.  A pair of light cruisers were disappearing through the other wormhole, while the superbattleship Prince Henry was last in that line.

Finally the moment came when it was the Nina’s turn.  The huge vessel slid through the portal in less than two seconds, the unfamiliar sensation of being spread across the Universe almost causing a panic among the passengers.  The crew handled it a little better, but most of them hadn’t experienced the sensation either.  And then they were in the space of the Donut, twenty light seconds out, moving ahead through the cleared space.  Around them were literally tens of thousands of different vessels, from huge vessels over twenty million tons to the suborbital craft.  A line was stretched to the docking facilities of the Donut, delivering refugees.

We’ve done everything we could, thought Sung, looking at a holo of the wormhole behind her.  As far as she knew, that was true.  As far as she knew.

*     *     *

“We got over three billion people out, your Majesty,” said Sondra McCullom over the com.  “That includes forty-six million of the unmodified humans, including all the children, and two billion nine hundred and seventy million of the modified Klavarta, including over a billion and a half children, the bulk being skilled warriors and industrial workers.

And still two billion left behind.  If we had another day or two, we could have gotten them all.  “Good work, Admiral.  That was what, a billion more that the initial prediction?”

“We lost some ships, sir.  And we have over five hundred of the Klassekian equipped fighters that we won’t be able to recover for another two months.”

“But the important part is that they are recoverable,” said the Emperor, watching as the wormhole gates in New Earth space dismantled themselves.  They wanted those wormholes to remain in Klavarta space so they could still use them.  Except for the one that he was going to use for the final act of this play.  And maybe we need to find another name for them.   I understand about the need to keep their real identity hidden from the Cacas, but that’s over and done now.  No more need to hide what the other side already knows.

‘Missile impact in two minutes’ said the text below the holo picture. The frame of the wormhole he was watching was folding, detaching and deploying on grabber units back through the portal.  Each section sealed itself off to contain its negative matter, and the wormhole shrank as if took itself apart.  At one minute to missile impact both wormholes had shrunk to centimeters across, still capable of accepting the signal from the small recon drone that was a couple kilometers from one of the holes.

One of the holes turned and started boosting away, heading away from danger at thousands of gravities as it ejected high speed plasma from its orifice.  The other backed away slowly, maintaining its observation of the moon, the drone backing with it.  The mass of defense platforms, human and Klavarta, had hit the wave hard, knocking out tens of thousands of missiles.  Almost all of them had been destroyed, taking out ten thousand more Ca’cadasan missiles in the ultimate inanimate sacrifice.

“You don’t have to watch this, your Majesty,” said McCullom.

Yes, I do, thought Sean.  The responsibility for the success of the evacuation was his people’s.  The failure to get the last two billion off was also his responsibility, and he owed it to those people to watch their end.

It was a spectacular show, or would have been if it didn’t involve so much death.  The hundred thousand plus missiles came speeding in at over point nine light, searching for targets in orbit.  There were still lots of those, orbital defense satellites, missile batteries, industrial ship building structures that were either too big or not useable for the evacuation.  The missile batteries were empty, having fired all their weapons when the attack missiles were still ten minutes out.  They had been used in a last ditch attempt to take out the enemy missiles.  The detonation of twenty thousand missiles had resulted in the destruction of a like number of missiles, barely a dent in the wave.

The unmanned defense stations went up so quickly, hit by a dozen missiles, that their plasma spread so fast it appeared to have teleported away.  Bright flares marked where close in defense sats had been, still firing at the attacking missiles up to the last second.  All of the missile batteries went, till there were no more targets in space.

A missile slammed into the planet.  The gigaton warhead flashed fire at the same moment as the kinetic energy of a hundred ton missile, speeding at point nine two light, was released into the crust, dwarfing the energy of the antimatter.  A continent died, tremors taking down the sides of mountains, opening chasms, while a blast wave of burning air swept out in all directions at multi-Mach speed.  Plants and panicking animals were reduced to ash that swirled away in the blast.  Magma flew into the air at the point of impact, a rising fountain of molten rock pushed out under extreme pressure.

A second missile struck an ocean, penetrating the crust.  A massive wave flew out from the strike, kilometers high, while a column of superheated steam rose from the impact point.  A moment later it was really impossible to pick out the individual strikes as hundreds of weapons came in.  One entire hemisphere of the moon was turned into a lake of lava as its crust was obliterated.  The far side of the moon was spared the strikes, though the seismic waves took down every building, volcanoes exploded through every mountain range, and superheated air made its way around the curve of the moon.  Maybe a hundred thousand people survived, but they wouldn’t for long.  For all intents and purposes, New Earth was now a dead world.

One other moon, already a dead rock, took a couple of hits.  The greatest number of the remaining missiles slammed into the gravity well of the gas giant and fell into its atmosphere.  Hundreds of bright flashes flared from deep in the clouds, while blast waves roiled the atmosphere.  Like many gas giants, it was also a living world, full of cloud dwelling creatures.  They had nowhere to shelter, and after the strikes the entire gas giant system was rendered lifeless.

Enjoy your victory, you sons of bitches, thought Sean as he watched the destruction.  For as long as you can.

*    *     *

NEW EARTH ORBIT: JUNE 4TH, 1002.

“We are victorious, my Lord,” crowed the Chief of Staff.

It seems that way, thought the Great Admiral.  But we still have the rest of their nation to take out.

Having taken their home system, that seemed something that would only take time.  This had to be a mortal blow, to both their military power and morale.

The main body of the fleet was within the gas giant system, over fifteen thousand ships.  The flagship was in close orbit of the moon, which was shrouded in a thick layer of poisonous gases and smoke.  The bright points of impact craters shone through the clouds, still shooting magma into the sky.

And the damned priests are raising hell that I killed a living world.   His eyes strayed to a holo that showed the gas giant.  Maybe two.  But the Emperor is sure to forgive that when I present him with a victory on this front.

He looked over at the tactical holo.  His trap had not been needed, and all of those task groups were now within the hyper barrier, sitting, waiting for the orders that would send them ranging out through this star nation.

He had sent back a strong courier force, five hundred ships, to relay news of his success, as well as the data he had on the New Terran Empire resources that had been used in this system, including the readings on the frightening attack craft.  They would return with some more logistics assets to replace those he had lost in the battle.

“We have something happening about a thousand kilometers in from the moon,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“What the hells is that?” asked the Chief of Staff.

“Wormhole,” answered the Sensor Officer.

“Should we fire on it, my Lord” asked the Tactical Officer.

“Order all ships within range to target the entrance.  We’ll give whatever comes through a warm welcome.”  With that command, thousands of capital ship laser domes were targeted on the expanding wormhole.  Anything coming through would be forced to surrender immediately, or be destroyed.  As would everything behind it.

*     *     *

“We are a go, your Majesty,” said McCullom over the com.

“Execute,” ordered Sean, watching the multiple holo screens in front of him.  One showed the moon of New Earth from about ten thousand kilometers away.  Next to it was a holo of a tactical plot, showing the thousands of Caca ships in orbit around the moon, from a couple of hundred kilometers out to thirty thousand.  The next holo showed a wormhole opened in the black hole system, four light hours out from the Donut.  It was fully open, in ship gate configuration.  Unseen was the other wormhole being used in this operation, a few light seconds from the gate.  And, of course, the wormhole they were watching this through, a light minute away.

And waiting a couple of thousand kilometers from the entrance to the wormhole, a ten million ton ship, an obsolete battleship from another era, serving a useful purpose for the first time in almost a century.  Inside was the other end of the small wormhole.  Everything was ready for this final act, the wormhole on the ship set for an almost guaranteed overload.  There would be no chance of a successful transit for this ship.

The ship started accelerating at a rate that a crew could not survive.  It was unmanned, controlled remotely and it built up velocity quickly, hitting the wormhole at a hundred kilometers a second, the two kilometer body of the vessel through the portal in a fiftieth of a second.

The entire ship converted to energy, the equivalent of five million tons of antimatter interacting instantly with five million tons of matter.  Ninety five percent of that three hundred and ninety times ten to the fifteenth power energy went through the gate to the other side as both wormholes collapsed in a catastrophic manner.  Three hundred and ninety quadrillion tons, three hundred and ninety billion megatons, came blasting out a thousand kilometers from the moon in a wide arc.  The remainder came blasting back into supersystem space, both from the gate and the smaller wormhole.  That was the reason it was so far from any structure within the black hole system.  It was a brilliant fireworks display, and nothing more, its radiation too diffuse to penetrate any of the electromagnetic fields in the system by the time it reached them.

Around New Earth it was a different story.  A thousand Caca ships died instantly in the fury of the heat and radiation that washed over them.  Internal antimatter stores breached, and most of the vessels converted to plasma, including the flagship.  Huge chunks of the moon were blasted out of its gravity well, rising into space and striking hundreds of other ships.  And the heat and radiation blasted through ten thousand more vessels, damaging systems, irradiating and killing crew.

Sean watched from the far wormhole a minute after the fact, as the tremendous blast, the largest ever produced by humanity, flared to the point where it blotted out sight of the moon and half the Caca vessels.  When the flare died down the Ca’cadasan fleet was crippled.  They were still a fighting force, but halved.

Enjoy your victory, assholes, thought Sean.  He had bought the Klavarta some time.  Now they would need to put it to good use.

Epilogue

CAPITULUM, JEWEL: JUNE 19TH, 1002.

“Good luck on the trip home, Mr. President,” said Sean to the being on the holo.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” said President Manstara, formerly the Admiral in charge of the former Klavarta home system fleet.  Now he was the leader of the newly named Nation of New Earth.

So many changes, thought Sean.  The wormhole gates were now installed in three different systems in that nation.  Over the last month a steady stream of ships had passed through those gates, both ways, while the technology and industry of the Empire augmented their own war machine.  The Cacas had been stunned by the destruction of their flagship and so much of their fleet, but had gotten over it and went back on the offensive.  They had been weakened enough that the New Earth fleet had been able to fight them to a standstill.

The first of the new Lend Lease convoys had started on the eleven month journey to New Earth.  One hundred ships, most of them hyper VII warships, along to protect the precious cargo.  Forty of those ships carried wormholes, which would be used to connect the Empire to the Nation, while aboard a couple of the new hyper VII Fleet Replenishment Ships (Fast Freighters) were another fifty of the wormholes, both ends in their sealed carrying containers, along with the frames and negative matter to allow their new allies to use the holes as necessary.

“Our geneticists think they can correct your shortened life spans within the month,” said Sean, who had just received the report this morning.  “It won’t help any of your people now, but…”

“But our future children will enjoy the same long lives as their unmodified brothers and sisters,” said the President with a smile.  “And that is a gift we never would have received under our old masters.”

“They’re ready for us to board the ship,” said an unmodified human, the new Vice President of the Nation, Thallia Thrann, standing at the shoulder of the Alpha.  After the evacuation it was revealed that the woman had been a long time member of the rebellion, using her position as an Underdirector to feed vital information to those on the front lines of the movement.  She had supplied much of the information that had allowed the strike teams to get in quickly and quietly to proximity of their targets.

“Very, well, Thallia,” said the President, giving a very human head nod.

And he was human, to all intents and purposes.  Your modifications are something we never would have condoned.  But you’re here now, in your hundreds of billions, and there’s room for you in this Galaxy if we have anything to do with it.

Not only was the Empire sending tech and materials, they were also sending trainers and teachers to bring the Neohumans, as they were not being called, up to speed on strategy and tactics.  No longer were they to be used as cannon fodder, pushing forward in suicidal ferocity.  They would be taught to use their brains, their cunning, to strike back at the Cacas.

And Imperial citizens of alien species were going as well.  Phlistarans, Gryphons, Malticons, Centasians, Manticanans, Medlusians, and others.  They would both teach the people of New Earth about relations with aliens, and help to forge new friendships with the alien powers around that space.  It might take some time, but Sean was sure that it would pay off in the end.  Several CEOs or senior members of Imperial companies were also either on the way or soon to follow.  Hashimoto, Garcia Lines, Dawson Shipbuilding, Krupp, Mercedes, Bailey Nano-electronics, M’tumbo Terraforming; a who’s who of industrial concerns to help the people of New Earth set up their industry to build Imperial products under license.  While Engineers from New Earth were coming into the Empire to do the same with their specialty items.

“It is so good to know that we are not alone in this Galaxy, your Majesty,” continued the Alpha.

“We’ll beat them, Mr. President.  Don’t you ever doubt that.  Together, we will prevail.”

The President nodded, then looked away for a moment.  “Ms. Thrann looks like she is about to have a seizure,” said the Neohuman, looking over at his second in command.  “And while I’m sure they won’t head for the ship gate without us, I guess we should not put the captain through too much stress while we upset his timetable.  We will talk when I have set up in our new capital system, your Majesty.”

The holo went blank, leaving Sean alone with his thoughts.  The Nation of New Earth had a daunting task ahead of them, the same uphill fight that the Empire had faced early on in the Caca invasion.

And our analysts think we are in for renewed hostilities on this front in the very near future.  At least they no longer had to worry about the Fenri, not with their capital system now under Imperial control.

Now, if only we could get something on Zhee, life would be wonderful.

*     *     *

There she is, thought Angel, watching as the well-dressed noblewoman came out of the entrance to the office building, her security detail watchfully surrounding her.  Looking like she owns the Empire.  She probably felt well protected by the ten bodyguards that went with her everywhere.   But an expert like Angel could spot weaknesses in an instant, and he could think of a dozen ways to take the Countess out without breaking a sweat.

But I want to send a message with this hit, to all those who might want to come after me.  That it is a bad idea to appear on my radar.

The End

Appendix A: Glossary

Aether Paddles  Grabbers.  Units that utilize the space warping powers of energized superplatinum to grip the actual fabric of space and pull their attached object along.  Used in everything from battle armor to large ships.

Augmentation  Also known as Enhancement.  Retroactive genetic and biological engineering of humans.  Through the use of nanotech enhancements are made to the human genome, resulting in faster and stronger people with the sensory systems of the best found in nature.  Upgraded glandular systems.  Ninety-five percent of augmented also have reduced lifespans, though some exceptional genomes do not experience this, and pass their traits down to their descendants.

Bolthole  Imperial industrial system in the process of being established a thousand light years outside the boundaries of the Empire.  Planned as a unassailable arsenal and last refuge of the Empire.

Capitulum  Capital City of the Empire, home of the House of Lords and the Imperial Palace.  3 billion citizens living in 375,000 kilometers of city.

Catastrophic Translation The movement of an object from any of the hyper dimensions to normal space through hitting a hyper barrier or losing its protective hyperdrive field.  The result is a translation in which matter is disrupted, resulting in the probably destruction of the ship and all aboard.

Class III Systems Mostly agricultural worlds, 763 worlds in 748 systems, with a combined population of 88 billion.

Class V Systems  Economically important and military systems, 307 planets with 5.5 billion citizens.

Cloning  Reproduction of organic material by the artificial stimulation and growth of cells.  Cloning of food and body replacement parts is widespread, but the reproduction of a complete sophont is illegal in any of the human polities, due to the fact that clones are somehow different.  Human clones completely lack a conscience, no matter their upbringing or training.  It is unknown why.

Com Net  Network established on all Imperial planets allowing all citizens access to communications and data services anywhere on the planet.

Core Worlds  Class I.  The oldest and most developed of the planets of the Empire, with populations in the billions.  Population is restricted, as are births, and by law fifty percent of the land area of the world must remain pristine wilderness.  98 inhabitable planets in 91 systems, within two hundred and fifty light years of the Central System.  380 billion citizens.

Cyborgs  Living beings with integrated mechanical and electronic systems, such as fiber optic nerves and communication implants. Technically, all humans in high tech society are cyborgs, incorporating as they do data and com implants, and nanite augmented immune systems.  True cyborgs have much more intrusive implant architecture, including biomechanical nervous and muscular systems.  All enhanced soldiers, such as Rangers, Naval Commandos and Marine Recon have passive implants such as bone reinforcement.

Developing Worlds  Class II systems.  294 inhabited planets in 277 systems, with a population of 185 billion (21 billion alien) citizens.

Dole, The  Living wage payments to the great majority of citizens of the Core Worlds.  Supervised robotic factories produce the products needed to sustain society to the point where employment is not possible for most Core World citizens.  The Dole allows them to survive with some luxuries such as in house entertainment, but not much else.  Citizens who wish to improve their lot compete for the jobs that are available.

Donut, The  Massive century long engineering project, an enormous space station in orbit around the Supersystem central black hole, using the swirling gravitational energy of a sixty solar mass charged hole to generate wormholes.

Exploration Command  Subdivision of the Fleet tasked with exploring new worlds, making scientific discoveries, and expanding the Empire into unexplored space.

Fleet, The.  Term of respect an endearment for the naval forces of the New Terran Empire, a force which has never lost a war, and is responsible for guarding the people of the Empire.

Frontier Worlds  Class IV.  8,462 planets in 8,147 systems, with a combined population of 6.9 billion citizens.

Gravitons  Messenger particles of gravity, detectable in all levels of space, including subspace and hyperspace. The manipulation of gravitons is responsible for artificial gravity and the use of hyperspace and subspace.  Gravitons can be tracked through all dimensions of hyper.

IIA  Imperial Intelligence Service.  Imperial Security Service responsible for intelligence gathering beyond the boundaries of the Empire.  By Imperial decree they are allowed some investigative powers within the Empire, mostly those involving threats to the government.

IIB  Imperial Investigation Bureau.  Imperial Security Service responsible for counterintelligence and criminal investigation within the boundaries of the Empire.

Imperial Alien Systems  7 aboriginal systems with 3.2 billion beings.  Ten alien protectorates of 89 systems, 262 billion aliens.

Implants  Electronic devices attached by nanotech to the brains of Imperial citizens, allowing them to contact com and data services, as well as emergency services.  Range from basic to Governmental that allow access to classified databases and vital command and control services.  By Imperial Privacy Laws the tracking feature of implants can be disabled by citizens concerned about being monitored.  Convicted criminals have this feature removed.

House of Commons  Second House of Parliament, made up of elected members of the common people, based on the population of the planets of the Empire.  2,647 total members.  All appropriations and infrastructure bills originate in this house.

House of Lords  First House of Parliament, made up of hereditarily appointed nobles, as well as high ranking members of the major churches of the Empire.  961 members.   All military bills, intelligence bills, and treaties originate from this house.  Prime Minister comes from the Lords.

House of Scholars  Third House of Parliament, made up by appointed and elected members of scientists and academics.  Most members are from first tier Universities, with a small number appointed by the Lords and the Emperor.  400 members.  All science, technology, medical and educational bills originate in this house.

Hyper Barrier  Effect of gravity wells on objects traveling through hyper.  Vessels striking the barrier are translated out of hyperspace catastrophically.  The radius of the barrier depends on the mass of the object generating it, black hole, star, planet or smaller object. For a black hole the barrier can be thirty light hours or more from the center mass.  For a planetoid it might be light seconds.   The higher the dimension of hyper the further out its barrier.  Star systems typically have a hyper I barrier of from three to five light hours, depending on the mass.

Hyperdetection  Ability of spaceships, particularly warships, to detect other ships moving in hyper.  The larger the ship and the higher the level of hyper, the longer the range another vessel can be detected at.  Extreme range of a battleship sized vessel moving in VII is up to seven light years.  Translations also send out a hyper signal well beyond that of traveling ships,

Hyperdrive Graviton projection device capable of opening holes in the dimensions leading from normal to hyperspace.  Also projects a graviton field around the ship while it is in hyperspace, protecting the crew and vessel from the effects of that space.  Each succeeding dimension takes 4.2 times the power to open and remain in than the one below it.

Hyperspace  Upper dimensions of the Universe, corresponding to the same space time coordinates of the visible Universe, through a nesting of graduated smaller dimensions.  Allows ships to travel at below the light speed limit and still traverse normal space at faster than light speeds.  Hyperspace is a realm of energies and particles unknown in normal space, and is in fact inimical to normal matter.  Hyperspace does not exist within the moderate gravity wells of heavy objects.

Hyper I:  9.11 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 8.2 light.

Hyper II: 40.9 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 36.8 light.

Hyper III: 163.44 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 147 light.

Hyper IV: 654.2 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 588.78 light.

Hyper V: 2,616.9 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 2355.2 light.

Hyper VI: 10,467.6 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 9,420.8 light.

Hyper VII: 41, 870.4 to 1 ratio, .9 c pseudo speed 37,683.36 light.  .95 c pseudo speed 39,776.9 light.

Hyper VIII: 167,481.6 to 1 ratio.  Only electromagnetic signals can be transmitted through VIII, and only for a very limited range.

Inertial Compensators  Devices, normally paired with grabber units, utilizing superiron to convert inertia to heat, then using the properties of superlead to project the heat into space.  Inertial compensators allow ships to pull high gee loads, while giving off enormous amounts of heat, making them as visible as small stars to the enemy.

Inertialess Fighter  1,500 ton attack fighter that uses a negative matter warp bubble that reduces inertia essentially to nothing, allowing extreme acceleration and the ability to attain velocities faster than the speed of light.  There are two weaknesses to the process.  The fighters are totally cut off from the Universe and cannot see where they are going, and the craft must leave the bubble at the same velocity as when they entered or they will suffer an inertia rebound.

Jewel  Capital planet of the Empire, based in the Home system and in a mutual orbit with the terraformed planet New Terra and the moon Ariel.  Home to twenty billion citizens.

Klassekian  Alien species inhabited a planet in extra-Imperial space.  Klassekians are born in litters of from six to twelve siblings, all interconnected through quantum matter in their brains.  His connection allows them to transfer information instantaneously across any distance and through all known dimensions.

Klavarta  Term used both for the identification of the Modified human servant race in the Klavarta Star Nation, and having to do with that nation overall.  The Klavarta servant race is divided into several subspecies of specialized functions.  Pilots, or Alphas, command and control space vehicles, while Warriors fight ground and ship-board actions.  Engineers handle the overall maintenance and fabrication duties, while the diminutive Assistants are able to crawl into the engineering spaces the full sized Engineers cannot.

Mag Weapons  Weapons from civilian hand to vehicle mounted cannons which fire a solid or explosive projectiles through a magnetic tube that accelerates them to the desired velocity.  For hand weapons this is in the one thousand to five thousand meter per second range.  Tank cannon can fire rounds at up to a thousand kilometers a second.

Nanotech  Ubiquitous technology used in almost every industrial and operational aspect of the Empire.  Nanites process raw materials, construct alloys and fibers at the atomic level, and weld and join larger constructs.  All citizens have a multitude of nanites in their bodies, making them immune to almost any conceivable biological contagion, as well as healing minor injuries and allowing the digestion and utilization of native foods that would otherwise not provide any nutrition.

Negative Matter  The exact opposite of matter, and not found in our Galaxy.  Made by an industrial process that is very energy intensive.  Negative matter repels itself and matter, and is capable of generating antigravity.  Negative matter cancels an equal amount of regular matter in a very unspectacular disappearance.  Negative matter is necessary for the maintenance of wormhole gates.

Particle Beams  Streams of high energy protons or antiprotons.  Infantry and hand weapons project up to a gram of matter at low relativistic speeds.  Heavy infantry and ship borne weapons project matter at much higher speeds.  Protons strike targets with high kinetic energy that translates into force and heat.  Antiprotons explode on contact with matter.

Pure  Term used to denote those of unmodified human stock in the Klavarta Star Nation.

Secret Service  Imperial Security Service responsible for the protection of the Imperial Family and members of Parliament.

Special Ops  Army Rangers, Naval Commandos and Marines Recon operatives, biologically augmented and trained to fight without the use of armor or electronic equipment.  Augmentation includes the removal of all human scent emitting glands.  This allows them to escape the detection of most high tech sensors, and strike from the shadows.

Sonics  Stun weapons that act on the nervous system of the target, disrupting its actions and in most cases dropping it into unconsciousness.  Civilian self-defense weapons come equipped with a transmitter to alert local police to the use of the weapon, though this has often been bypassed by criminals.

Subspace:  A single dimension separate from hyperspace, with correspondence to normal space coordinates, and with a 12.471 normal space to subspace ratio.  At .90 c within subspace pseudo speed is 11.22 light speed.  Subspace is not inimical to matter, and though energy is needed to enter and exit, none is needed to remain.

Subspace Com  Unit capable of sending vid through subspace at 12.47 light speed.  Only useful in normal space, though not within the close gravity wells of stars and planets.

Supermetals  Artificially produced high numbered elements that take advantage of an island of stability in the periodic table.  Produced in enormous industrial plants that utilize the entire surface of frozen moons and small planets, using the temperature differential to cool the high temp nuclear furnaces.  Superiron, superlead and superplatinum are the three metals produced, with super platinum both the most useful and most difficult to make.

Supersystem  Central Systems in orbit around the black hole.  Home system and seven others.  Sixteen habitable planets, four habitable moons, as well as assorted asteroid belts and habitats.  102 billion citizens, 6.6 billion of them aliens, with 26 percent of all Imperial space industry.

Translation:  The act of moving in and out of the dimensions of hyper.  Accompanied by a burst of gravitons that can be detected for from many light hours to several years.

Wormhole  Bridge through space and possibly time allowing objects to transit.  Extremely rare in the natural universe, produced by the Donut for use as com links, portals, and weapons deployment.

About the Author

Doug Dandridge is the author of over twenty-five self-published books on Amazon, including the very successful, Exodus Empires at War series, the Refuge techno-fantasy series, The Deep Dark Well Trilogy, as well as numerous standalone science fiction and fantasy novels.  In a two and a half year period as a self-published author, Doug has sold over one hundred and twenty-five thousand ebooks, paperbacks and audio books.  He has amassed over 1,800 reviews across his books on Amazon, with a 4.6 star average. He served in the US Army as an infantryman, as well as several years in the Florida National Guard in the same MOS.  Doug, who holds degrees from Florida State University and the University of Alabama, lives with his five cats in Tallahassee Florida.  He is a sports enthusiast and a self-proclaimed amateur military historian.

About The Prometheus Saga

The Prometheus Saga is the premier project of the Alvarium Experiment, a consortium of accomplished and award-winning authors. The Saga spans the range of the existence of Homo sapiens. The stories do not need to be read in any particular order; each story is an entry point into the overall story.

The Prometheus Saga stories & authors are:

“The Pisces Affair” by Daco Auffenorde. CIA operative Jordan Jakes meets Prometheus when the Secretary of State becomes the target of a terrorist attack at a head-of-state dinner in Dubai. Visit Daco at www.authordaco.com.

“On Both Sides” by Bria Burton. When a mysterious woman vanishes during the American Revolution, young Robby Freeman searches for answers from a cryptic sharpshooter who deserted Washington’s Continental Army. Visit Bria at www.briaburton.com.

“Ever After” by M.J. Carlson. Two mysterious women convey the same Cinderella story to Giambattista Basile in 1594 and Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm in 1811. How different cultures retell this story reveals humanity’s soul to those who listen. Visit M.J. at www.mjcarlson.com.

“The Blurred Man” by Bard Constantine. FBI agent Dylan Plumm’s investigation of a mill explosion puts her on the trail of the Blurred Man, a mysterious individual who may have been on Earth for centuries. The case turns deadlier at every turn, placing Dylan in the crosshairs of shadowy antagonists even as she unravels a centuries-old mystery. Visit Bard at www.barwritesbooks.com

“Crystal Night” by Charles A. Cornell. Berlin, 1938. On the eve of one of history’s darkest moments, a Swedish bartender working in Nazi Germany accidentally uncovers a woman’s hidden past. Can he avoid becoming an accomplice as the Holocaust accelerates? Visit Charles at www.charlesacornell.com.

“Marathon” by Doug Dandridge. Prometheus, posing as a citizen of Athens, participates in the battle of Marathon alongside the playwright Aeschylus. Visit Doug at www.dougdandridge.net.

“The Strange Case of Lord Byron’s Lover” by Parker Francis. Writing in her journal, Mary Shelley recounts a series of perplexing events during her visit with Lord Byron—a visit that resulted in the creation of her famous Frankenstein novel, but also uncovered a remarkable mystery. Visit Parker at www.parkerfrancis.com.

“Strangers on a Plane” by Kay Kendall. In 1969 during a flight across North America, a young mother traveling with her infant meets an elderly woman who displays unusual powers. But when a catastrophe threatens, are those powers strong enough to avert disaster? This short story folds into Kay’s mystery series featuring the young woman, amateur sleuth Austin Starr. Visit Kay at www.kaykendallauthor.com.

“East of the Sun” by Jade Kerrion. Through a mysterious map depicting far-flung lands, a Chinese sailor in 1424 and a Portuguese cartographer in 1519 share a vision of an Earth far greater than the reality they know. Visit Jade at www.jadekerrion.com.

“Manteo” by Elle Andrews Patt. In 1587, Croatan native Manteo returns from London to Roanoke Island, Virginia. Can he reconcile his strong loyalty to the untamed land and people of his home with his desire for the benefits the colonizing English bring with them before one of them destroys the other? Visit Elle at www.elleandrewspatt.com.

“First World War” by Ken Pelham. 40,000 BC: As the last remaining species of hominid, Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis, fight a desperate battle for ownership of the future, the outcasts of both sides find themselves caught in middle. Visit Ken at www.kenpelham.com.

“Lilith” by Antonio Simon, Jr. In this retelling of the Adam & Eve story, a hermit’s life is turned upside-down by the arrival of a mysterious woman in his camp. As the story of their portentous meeting carries forward through the millennia, only time will tell if Lilith is a heroine, a victim, or a monster. Visit Antonio at www.DarkwaterSyndicate.com.

“Fifteen Dollars’ Guilt” by Antonio Simon, Jr. 1881: After a close brush with death in a steamship disaster, Prometheus encounters another survivor who gripes about how aimless his life has become. Prometheus helps him find his calling, inadvertently setting in motion the assassination of President Garfield. Visit Antonio at www.DarkwaterSyndicate.com.

For additional info about the stories and authors, visit the official website: The Prometheus Saga

Five By Five 3: Target Zone

TARGETS ARE LOCKED!

Five short novels by five masters of military SF capture the excitement, and hell, of fantastic future war—on and off the battlefield. Stories of terrifying monsters, dangerous aliens and staggering cosmic dreadnaughts march alongside far-flung courtroom dramas and cautionary tales involving man and his devices.

Michael A. Stackpole—The Star Tigers are commandeered by a powerful alien overseer on a covert mission to a world long abandoned by an ancient species. There, the ruins of a forgotten war will tip the balance of their war, unless the Star Tigers can prevent it.

Sarah A. Hoyt—Lucius Dante Maximilian Keeva is a well-respected leader of the Usaian Revolution, but treason in the ranks can cost him everything that makes life worth living—unless he takes justice into his own hands and breaks every military regulation in its pursuit.

Doug Dandridge—Faced with an enemy more than two hundred times her own size, Cinda Klerk has two options: hide, and let it destroy the planet she is supposed to protect, or find a way to even the odds and kill the enemy, even at the cost of her ship and crew.

Eytan Kollin and Dani Kollin—As the Unincorporated War envelops the entire solar system, a father must come to the rescue of a daughter he never raised. But he’ll have to convince her to save herself first.

Kevin J. Anderson—In the war against an alien menace, Earth’s greatest military commanders risk themselves on the front lines, but with an escape hatch: If the situation goes terribly wrong, they can switch places with a safe soldier far from the battlefield. But the cannon-fodder volunteers don’t consider that such a good deal.

Set your cross-hairs on the Target Zone.

Excerpt from Goliath:

“We have a translation, from the hyper VII dimension down to VI,” called out the Sensory Officer, Ensign Emile Schmidt, in his soft New Berliner accent.

“Ours, or theirs?” asked Lt. Commander Cinda Klerk, watching the tactical holo and dreading the answer.  She was not a large woman, in fact, the captain’s chair still felt too big when she sat in it.  And she had the kind of face that attracted men, which she saw as a detriment to her career, not letting her fit the image of the warrior woman.

“Theirs,” answered Schmidt, a look of anxiety, no, fear showing on his face.  “And it’s a big one.  Twenty million tons or more.”

It would be, thought Cinda, the captain of the HIMS Joel Schumacher, one of the only two hyper capable warships in the system.  She was the largest ship assigned to the Compton system.  There were two more ships, both non-hyper vessels of similar class.  Schumacher was the most massive of the three ships due to her carrying the extra mass of a hyperdrive.  At a hundred thousand tons she was not the smallest hyper capable vessel in the Imperial Fleet.  The couriers and fast attack ships were much smaller, as were attack fighters, though only the fast messengers were capable of reaching hyperspace on their own.  Still, they were facing the prospect of a visit by a twenty five million ton battleship, over two hundred and fifty times her own mass.

And we’re more suited to going head to head with pirates, thought the Cinda.  That was exactly what her ship had been envisioned to take on, either hunting them, or protecting merchant traffic.  It was ludicrous at best to station her in a system as a defense against an opponent whose smallest warship was in the six hundred thousand ton range.  Especially with the special orders that came down from the Emperor himself.

Cinda pulled up a side holo and stared at the comp representation of the enemy that was en route.  An image originally taken thousands of years before.  They haven’t changed, she thought, looking at the figure of a tall, furred biped, standing on two strong legs, double shoulders extending from the torso supporting four arms.  The head was the horror, a medium muzzled, red eyed carnivore with sharp teeth showing in a grin, two large horns growing from the top of the skull.  The creature stood three meters tall sans the horns, and looked very much like the demons of some human religions.

“We’re receiving a gravity pulse from New Kiev,” said the Com Officer, a young man who looked like he had just walked out of the doors of the academy.  “Her captain is ordering us to support them in an action against that warship.”

Books by Doug Dandridge

Science Fiction

The Deep Dark Well Trilogy

The Deep Dark Well:  An Adventure 40,000 years in the making.  Pandora Latham was a Kuiper Belt Miner from Alabama.  She’s used to landing on her feet, even when the next surface is through a wormhole, halfway across the Galaxy and 46,000 years in the Future.  Pandora must discover the secret behind the end of civilization, and the enigma of the Immortal Watcher, the last survivor of the Empire that once ruled the stars.  Her decisions will set the path for Galactic recovery, or a continuation down the roads of Barbarism.

To Well and Back:  Pandora Latham is back, working Watcher’s plan to restore Galactic Civilization.  But first she has to deal with the Xenophobes of the Nation of Humanity, back in the Supersystem with their sights set on making the Galaxy their own.  Pandora is angry at the hyper religious Nation, and you don’t want to make a woman from Alabama angry.

Deeper and Darker:  Pandora Latham is on the warpath.  Watcher, her lover, and the only man who can once again unite the Galaxy, is a prisoner of the Totalitarian government of the New Galactic Empire.  The Empire thinks they have the upper hand, but they have never faced someone like Pandi, and the peoples of the Galaxy that she has rallied to her cause.

The Exodus Series

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1:  The introduction to the Exodus Universe.  Two thousand years prior mankind fled from the Predatory Ca’cadasans, traveling a thousand years and ten thousand light years to a new home.  Now the greatest power of their sector of space, things seem to be going well for the New Terran Empire.  Until the enemy appears once again at the gates.  And the years have not softened the aliens’ stance toward Humanity.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2:  The saga continues.  The Ca’cadasans attack at the moment when the government of the Empire is at its most chaotic.  There are other enemies as well, waiting for their chance to fall on the overwhelmed humans.  And a young man with no ambition for power finds himself in the position he most dreads.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3:  Sean is rescued, but he is not about to go back to the safety of the capital without striking back at the Ca’cadasans who have invaded his Empire.  But will his decision put the lives of thousands at risk, as well as risking the safety of his own Empire, by depriving it of its leader.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 4:  Sean is crowned Emperor, and attempts to organize the Empire for war against the Ca’cadasans.  But he finds that planning battles and winning battles are two different things. Defeat follows defeat.  Can anyone snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?  Or will the new Emperor fail before his reign even really begins.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 5: Ranger:  Cornelius Walbroski enters the rigors of Ranger training, becoming one of the augmented warriors of the Empire.  But his first assignment, Azure, is one of the most deadly planets in the Galaxy, even prior to the coming of the Cacas.  Can Cornelius survive his first mission?  Or will  promising career end before it really begins.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 6: The Day of Battle:  Sean and the Empire need a victory before human morale goes completely into the black hole.  He develops a plan to bring the Ca’cadasans into battle in space of his choosing.  But the Cacas are not an easy opponent, and they have plans of their own, for the Donut.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike:  The Empire has weathered the Ca’cadasan onslaught, and now it’s the time to strike back with an offensive of their own.  A victory could win the war.  But will it?

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 8: Soldiers:   The Cacas have been driven from the Empire, but they are still entrenched in the Kingdom of New Moscow.  The huge aliens are processing their captives for their protein.  The Emperor Sean will not allow the final citizens of New Moscow to be killed to become rations.  A desperate plan is formulated, and the forces of the Empire are set into motion against their mortal enemies.

Exodus: Tales of the Empire: Exploration Command:  Three novelettes concerning Exploration Command, the arm of the Fleet tasked with pushing back the boundaries of the Empire, and discovering the technology needed to win the war.

Exodus: Machine War: Book 1: Supernova:  When a civilization is discovered that has a special ability that would be of tremendous benefit to the Empire, great excitement is generated.  When it is found that a nearby blue giant star is due to supernova in less than a year, destroying that world, excitement turns to a frantic race to save as much of that species as possible.  And enemies from the past, lurking in space, bring forth a new war to the embattled Empire.

Other Scifi

Diamonds in the Sand:  When a perfectly healthy scientist falls dead of an apparent heart attack, it is up to Sarasota Police Detective Lieutenant Gary Lariviere to find out what really happened.  The scientist was working on Nanotechnology, a secret desired by everyone from the Government to the Mob.  There are too many suspects, including the woman that Gary comes to love.  The Army had made Gary better than human, but had they prepared him for the terrors that had been unleashed by the new technology?

The Scorpion:  The Scorpion had been the world’s deadliest living terrorist.  Kestral McMann had been in on the kill.  Now The Scorpion is back as a mind upload, using clones to penetrate the tight security of an isolationist United States.  McMann is the only man who can stop him.  But can McMann survive the threat of his own side, and the insane President who leads the Nation, in time to stop The Scorpion from plunging the Great Satan back into the Stone Age.

The Shadows of the Multiverse:  Something has been periodically wiping intelligence from our Universe through the ages.  It’s back, and it’s up to three unlikely heroes, the Captain of a Battle Cruiser, a Physicist turned Archeologist, and a Child, to save the intelligence of the Universe from Monsters from another Dimension.  Can they learn to use the powers of their unusual Quantum Minds to defeat creatures that have been playing the game for billions of years?

Afterlife:  What if you didn’t believe in the afterlife of the World’s Religions?  And what if science offered you the alternative, survival within the Virtual World of a computer, where your mental abilities are magnified and you can do anything you want?  And what if the World decided that your way was wrong, and declared war on you, meaning to destroy your reality?  What would you do?  Afterlife, a tale of survival at all costs.

We Are Death, Come For You:  When aliens strike the Tau Ceti colony, humankind knows that something bad is on the way.  They prepare as best they can, but will it be enough against superior technology?  The aliens are death worshippers, and only the extinction of the human race will satisfy their evil intent.  There are wonders of tech on the horizon, but can they be deployed in time?  Or will humankind have to depend on the smallest of their techs to save them?

Fantasy

The Refuge Series

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1:  A nuclear war in Central Europe opens the gates between dimensions, sending millions of Earth Humans into a land of myth, archetypes and fantasy.  The Evil Emperor of the Ellala Elves sees the humans as energy to fuel his transformation to immortality.  But the humans have brought their own weapons with them, as well as a race of Demigods who will battle the fantastic armies of Refuge.  The war is on, and only one side will ultimately survive.

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2:  The Ellala have a plan to destroy the human military and capture the civilians.  And the humans find that their weapons will soon cease to function.  So it’s use it or lose it for the Earth Humans, and they use it with a vengeance.  Tanks against Mages, Attack Helicopters against Dragons, and Nuclear Weapons against Death Gods.  And the other peoples of the planet come forth as allies to the humans that they see as the fulfillment an Ancient Prophecy.  But will it be enough?

Refuge: Book 3: The Legions:  The human invaders are now without their technologies, at least those using explosives and internal combustion engines.  But they still have knowledge of many other techs, especially the arts of warfare as practiced by the greatest infantry of the ancient world.  Will it be enough to stand up to the half lich Emperor and his magical forces.

Refuge: Book 4: Kurt’s Quest:  When the evil half lich Emperor sends his minions on a mission to find the Crown of the Lost Gods, an artifact which can control the minds of millions, it is up to Kurt von Mannerheim to stop them.  Along with his fellow immortal, Jackie Smith, the human Physicist/Mage James Drake, the Ellala Ranger Fenris and the Grimakan Priest Garios, they must head to the frozen north to foil the plan, and ensure that the evil artifact never sees the light of day.

Refuge: Doppelganger: Set thousands of years after the arrival, Kurt von Mannerheim, the Immortal Emperor of the Imperium of Free Nations, must give up everything to save his Empress, the Elfin Princess Gwenara Elysius von Mannerheim.  The world is at a crisis point as the Evil Tarakesh Empire, under its Immortal Emperor Heinrich Stuppleheim, prepares to overrun the world with its Nazi Ideology.  And Kurt must face a creature of legend that may prove too much for even his physical and mental abilities.

Other Fantasy

The Hunger:  Abused wife, drug addict, prostitute; Lucinda Taylor had been victimized by men all her adult life.  Left for dead by her pimp, Lucinda was turned by a passing vampire.  When he is destroyed she becomes a free agent, slaking her hunger for blood on the bottom dwellers of society, the type of men who once victimized her.  The crime boss of Tampa is her next target, and the City by the Bay is about to become a bloodbath.  But can Lucinda avoid those who are hunting for her; the Priest, the FBI man, and a pair of Vampires who would like nothing better than to send one Avenging Vampire forever into the dark?

Daemon:  A Steampunk Fantasy.  The world is dying, the victim of the magic used by society for the last three hundred years.  Daemon Corporation thinks they have the answer, stealing the life from other worlds, bringing from other dimensions the intelligences that inhabit them for sacrifice on Earth.  But something has come with them, a force that is killing the employees of Daemon Corp.  It is up to Forensic Mage Detective Jude Parkinson to find a way to stop the unstoppable, while keeping the head of Daemon Corp from silencing him to keep the dark secrets of the company out of the public eye.

Aura:  Triplets are born on a world where the magical Aura decides the fate of its owner.  Ariel is a girl with more than double the normal Aura, destined to become a mighty Priest or Mage.  Aiden has a less than normal Aura, and is destined to be a soldier or laborer.  While Arlen has no Aura at all, and is seen as an abomination in the eyes of the Church of Baalra the Dragon God, which has no power over those with Negative Auras.  Fate will rip the siblings apart, then bring them back together as they battle to defeat the Dragon God and leave the Evil Empire, before Ariel is taken as the Avatar of Baalra, his mortal vessel on Earth.

Books with other Authors

Five By Five 3: Target Zone:  Novellas by New York Times Bestsellers Kevin J. Anderson and Michael A. Stackpole, along with Prometheus Award Winner Dani and Eytan Kollin, Baen Author Sarah A. Hoyt, and Exodus Empires at War Author Doug Dandridge, make this a must have book for the military science fiction aficionado.

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Table of Contents

- Title
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Books by Doug Dandridge
- Author Contact
- Acknowledgements
- Cast of Characters
- Timeline
- The Story So Far
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Epilogue
- Appendix A: Glossary
- About the Author
- About The Prometheus Saga
- Five By Five 3: Target Zone
- Books by Doug Dandridge