Empire in Crisis (12 page)

“What threshold did you
give them before their warheads activate?” asked Logan. 

“Seven, as specified,
Admiral.” 

“And the 2nd
barrage?” 

“Is already
pre-programmed and in the queue, sir.” 

“Very good, Lieutenant.
Throw the launch countdown timer where I can see it. The first barrage will
launch automatically when the timer reaches zero, but only if I authorize the
attack beforehand, understand?” 

The feral grin became
even more enthusiastic. “Understood, sir.” 

He nodded to her and
gave her a pat on the upper arm, then walked back to his Command Station. One
of the small screens at his station was now showing two countdown timers. One
was the countdown to launch the first barrage of warp missiles; the other was
the countdown to the estimated time when the enemy fleet would emerge from the
wormhole. Recon drones were already on their way to their observation positions
to record the ambush visually.  

The tactical display
was showing that the ambush force ships were all in their assigned positions.
The 99th super-dreadnought squadron was in the center of the formation directly
opposite the wormhole entrance, although back from it at a distance of 120
light-seconds. The 88th dreadnought squadron was off to the 99th’s right side
at the three o’clock position. The 68th dreadnought squadron was off to the
left side at the nine o’clock position. The four battlecruiser squadrons were
distributed at the one, five, seven and eleven o’clock positions. It was the
classic Shield strategy of wormhole defense. The simulations all said it should
work, but that was against ‘enemy’ ships that had similar armor and weapons as
the ambushing force. No one knew for certain what these alien ships had, which
was why Logan had ordered the TFO to concentrate the fire of over 600 warp
missiles on just seven targets. The tactical computers had predicted that most
would miss altogether. If the ones that hit ended up generating overkill, that
was okay with Logan. He preferred overkill to underkill. 

When the first timer
hit 30 seconds, Logan looked at the FTO and said, “First missile barrage is
authorized.” She acknowledged the order, and when the timer hit zero, the
tactical display showed a swarm of green dots forming around each squadron. The
missiles went quickly to warp speed and dropped out of warp less than one light
second from the wormhole. 

“Now it’s up to
Excalibur,” said Logan. As the last ship to emerge from the wormhole, Excalibur
was the ideal ship to stay near the wormhole to gather visual data from a
network of recon drones and transmit the essence of that data to Undaunted via
FTL transmissions. In order to not be seen by the enemy, Excalibur was now
behind the wormhole. 

The second timer
reached zero. With the 107th so far back from the wormhole, it would take two
full minutes for them to see the explosions of each missile’s warhead as their
special construction focused that energy into powerful beams of coherent x-rays
that were capable of slashing through ship armor like a red-hot knife through
butter. What Logan expected to see any second now was the FTL message
confirming the emergence of the enemy fleet, the missile attack and the results
of the attack. While FTL voice transmissions were possible, Logan had
ordered Excalibur to report via text messages that could be transmitted within
a fraction of a second thereby minimizing the chances of the enemy intercepting
them.

When the incoming text
message began scrolling across the bottom of the display, Logan heard shouts of
joy from the Flag Bridge personnel. 

[Excalibur to
Undaunted. 13 bogies emerged from wormhole and were engaged by missile strike.
1 bogey has broken up. 5 are no longer maneuvering. 1 is maneuvering in a
manner suggesting damage. It and the remaining 6 appear to be turning around to
re-enter wormhole. Estimate that retreating ships will re-enter wormhole before
a 2nd missile barrage can reach them. Still no sign of maneuvering from the 5
damaged ships. Will confirm exit of retreating ships. End of message.] 

“Get me a com channel
to all ships,” ordered Logan. He waited until he got the signal that the
channel was open. “Fleet Commander to all ships. As soon as we get confirmation
that the maneuvering enemy ships have entered the wormhole, we will head to
within half a million klicks of the wormhole while maintaining this formation.
If any of those damaged ships fire on us, we’ll use ship-mounted beam weapons
against them. It’s my intention to have those ships boarded by marines when
it’s safe to do so. We have an opportunity to gather valuable intel on these
aliens. Keep this com channel open for further orders.” As Logan muted his end
of the channel, another text message appeared. 

[Excalibur to
Undaunted. 7 bogeys have re-entered wormhole. 5 bogeys are still ballistic.
Unable to determine at this range whether they have any offensive capability
left. End of message.] 

Logan activated his end
of the fleet com channel. “FC to all ships. Stand by to receive maneuvering
instructions from Flag. We’ll be warping back shortly.” Muting his mic again,
he turned to the Fleet Astrogation Officer. “Okay, Fastro, let’s do a
synchronized warp transit as planned.” The FAO quickly set up a short burst at
warp speed that all ships would conduct at exactly the same time and
transmitted those instructions to each ship’s auto-pilot system. 

“Synchronized warp will
engage in…three…two…one…mark!”

Logan watched the
tactical display with interest. This was the first time that the 107th had
tried this kind of synchronized maneuvering at warp speed while maintaining a
precise formation. While each ship’s auto-pilot was capable of doing exactly
that, the auto-pilots had to be engaged in order to do so. If some ship COs
were slow to make the necessary preparations, then those ships would lag
behind. Logan was pleased to see that all ships were accelerating at warp speed
as ordered. Accelerating to the fleet’s combined maximum warp would take 28.5
seconds, with another 28.5 seconds to decelerate back down to zero warp. When
the warp maneuver was over, Logan ordered the execution of Phase Two. Recon
drones were sent to visually scan each drifting ship to see if its weapons were
intact and if there was any reaction. While they were waiting for the drones to
get close enough, Logan ordered Excalibur to hold its position.  

It took almost five
minutes for the drones to move close enough to get a good look at the hulls of
the drifting ships. The Flag Bridge personnel were silent as the images
appeared on the main display. The first thing that Logan noticed was the size
of these alien ships. From the dimensions displayed at the bottom, it was clear
that these ships were larger than even the Empire’s biggest super-dreadnought.
Their overall design was asymmetrical and quite alien-looking. Once he got used
to the size and shape, he was able to see how much damage the dozens of
attacking energy beams had done. The hull had huge gashes, some of which were
deep enough that the drones could actually see right into the ship. Most of the
weapon turrets were clearly inoperable. 

“Any visible reaction
at all from any of those ships?” asked Logan. 

“None, Admiral,”
replied the FTO. 

“Have the marines been
alerted?” 

“They’re on alert and
standing by, Admiral.” 

“I want to speak with
the senior marine officer,” said Logan. The image of a stern-looking woman
wearing light combat armor appeared in the sidebar of the main display. 

“Major Serling here.”

Logan suppressed the
urge to grin. The Major knew exactly who she was talking to, and yet she
managed to convey a subtle message in the tone of her voice to the effect of
‘what the hell do YOU want?’ 

“Major, I know our
assault shuttles are designed to board human ships, not alien ones, but your
people are going to have to adapt to the situation. Find a way to get inside
one of those cripples. Priority one is live prisoners, as many as you can find.
Priority two is data downloads. I want updates on your progress every five
minutes. Once a ship has been swept from bow to stern, report to me, and I’ll
decide how we proceed from there. Any questions?” 

“What about the other
four cripples?” 

“If I decide to board
them, marines from other ships will be assigned that task. Anything
else?” 

“No sir.” 

“Very good. You’re cleared
to proceed, Major.” 

It wasn’t long before
the assault shuttles were picked up by the recon drone opticals. There were ten
of them, and yet they seemed like minnows beside a whale. With ships this big,
it would take hours for the five hundred marines to search the whole ship.
Logan knew that he should report the battle to the Emperor, but he wanted to
wait a bit longer to find out if there were any surviving crew members. Unless
these aliens spoke Empire standard Esperanto, which Logan seriously doubted,
getting any useful information out of the survivors would probably take weeks,
maybe even months, but if he was certain that there were survivors, HQ could
begin to make preparations to receive them. 

Each assault shuttle
was identified by a number inside a green triangle. As it became obvious that
Serling had ordered her shuttle pilots to spread out and look for potential
access points, Logan noticed that number nine shuttle was approaching one of
the larger hull gashes. 

“Zoom in on shuttle
nine,” he ordered. As the image zoomed in, he heard someone gasp and nodded in
agreement. The gash in the hull was wider than the shuttle itself. The shuttle
came to hover above the gash. 

“I want to hear what
that pilot is saying,” said Logan. A split second later they heard the pilot’s
voice over the loudspeakers. 

“—got penetration right
down to interior compartments! I can see what seems to be emergency lighting down
there! Looks to me like our best chance to get inside this motherfucker is to
take Sally-B down as far as we can get and then send my platoon over wearing
pressure suits!” 

“You have permission to
proceed, Lieutenant.” Logan recognized Serling’s voice. 

Logan watched with
fascination as the shuttle descended into the gash until it was barely visible.
With the battle itself now over, Logan was starting to feel the stimulant
wearing off. After leaving contingency orders, he headed for his cabin and was
soon asleep. When he woke up six hours later, he discovered that the actual
boarding operations had taken far longer than anticipated. The number nine
shuttle marines had found an interior compartment all right, but it was sealed
off from the rest of the ship. Eventually they forced open a hatch, resulting
in decompression of the adjacent compartment, which became a makeshift airlock.
Meanwhile, two other shuttles had found what appeared to be external hatches,
and their marines had also eventually forced their way in, but even after hours
of searching, none of the marines had found any aliens either dead or alive.
The other mystery was that if the retreating ships were heading back the way
they came, why hadn’t any of his heavy cruisers spotted them? Logan asked
Mckeon for his thoughts. 

“I agree, Admiral, the
lack of live survivors or dead bodies IS puzzling. I would be shocked if these
ships had no biological crew whatsoever. But we do have to remember that these
are big ships with lots of interior space.” 

Logan was now in a
quandary. He had not sent any ships through the wormhole, because of the risk
that the fleeing alien ships might try to set up their own ambush at the other
end, and therefore he didn’t know where those retreating ships were going.
Given that they had just lost roughly half their force, he thought it was
unlikely they would continue to penetrate deeper into Empire space, but that
possibility couldn’t be dismissed altogether. If they were retreating back to
the Rift the way they came, his heavy cruiser scouts should detect them and
report back, but it was too soon for that. There was no longer any real
justification for not sending a message back to Earth. If and when they found
survivors, he could always send a follow-up message. 

With 24 hours now gone since the attempted coup,
DeChastelaine began to feel more secure. The Guard had taken control of the
Space Force HQ communications facilities. Outgoing FTL transmissions were shut
down for the time being. The transmission logs seemed to show that Hiakawa had
failed to call for help from any other fleet: a serious mistake on his part and
a stroke of good luck for DeChastelaine. Hiakawa himself, now under careful
Guard monitoring, was unrepentant and wasn’t holding anything back during his
interrogations. DeChastelaine had watched part of the recorded interrogation
session and had felt grudging admiration for Hiakawa’s lack of fear in the face
of a certain death sentence. The vetting of the other admirals was proceeding.
Some were very much a part of the coup conspiracy, and while others were not, that
didn’t mean their positions in the hierarchy were secure. DeChastelaine had
already made up his mind to ruthlessly cut out the deadwood. The first task was
to find a new Chief of Space Force Operations. An exhausted-looking Hood had
found one. 

“The Superintendent of the Academy?” asked
DeChastelaine. 

Hood sighed as she nodded. “She isn’t a strategic genius
but neither is she a strategic idiot. Her grasp of strategy seems to be better
than Hiakawa’s, but what impressed me is her apparent ability to get the most
out of her subordinates. Her staff have stayed with her for years, and based on
grapevine feedback, they think very highly of her administrative ability. Am I
wrong in thinking that the CSFO has to be an administrator first and strategist
second, My Emperor?” 

DeChastelaine’s first impulse was to say that she was, but
on second thought he decided that she was right. As long as the CSFO had
strategic geniuses, or the closest thing to them, to advise him or her, then
efficiently managing the massive organization that was Space Force was indeed
of vital importance. 

“You’re not wrong. Where is Admiral Bishop now?” 

“She’s still under Guard detention, My Emperor.” 

“Okay. I’ll speak to her and then make up my mind. Get some
rest, Commander. You look like hell.” 

“I still have to work on the Strategic Plan, My
Emperor.” 

DeChastelaine looked at Hood carefully. She now had a
nervous twitch of her right eyelid that hadn’t been there before, and there
were dark circles under her eyes.
She’s pushing herself too hard. No, I’m
pushing her too hard!
With the realization that he was abusing one of his
key assets, he decided to make another decision that he’d put off long enough.

“Well, you’re not going to have to work on that alone
anymore, Commander. I’m now giving you the Strategic Working Group. You’ll be
the Group Leader. You provide direction, oversight and evaluation, but they do
the work. Right now I order you to stand down for twelve hours and get some
rest. After that you can meet with the SWG.” 

“I’m not sure how much respect I’ll get from some of the
group members. A number of them will actually be senior to me in rank, My
Emperor.” 

DeChastelaine grinned. “That’s easy to fix. Your temporary
promotion to Commander is now permanent, and your new temporary rank is Senior
Commander. I’m also giving you discretion on who makes up that group. Don’t be
afraid to fire anyone who isn’t an asset or to ask for anyone who might be an
asset. Understood?” 

Hood’s eyes were now wide with shock. That kind of
authority with the Space Force hierarchy at the level of a senior commander was
unheard of. 

“Understood, My Emperor!” 

“Good. You’re dismissed, and I better not see you again in
the next twelve hours.” 

As Hood was just about to leave the room, she paused,
turned back to face her emperor and said, “One thing that puzzles me, My
Emperor. I’m surprised we haven’t heard anything from Logan.” 

“That’s been bothering me too.” DeChastelaine gestured for
her to come back to stand near his desk as he opened a channel to the Comm.
Section and ordered them to set up a connection to the Guard personnel standing
watch over the HQ’s FTL section. 

“Captain Tribecca here, My Emperor. How may I serve
you?” 

“You can tell me if there have been any incoming messages
from the 107th Fleet, Captain.” 

“Not during my duty shift, My Emperor; however, I’ll check
if something came in earlier.” The Captain resumed speaking after a few
second’s pause. “Yes, My Emperor. This section received two text messages from
the 107th fleet approximately five hours ago. Should I arrange to have them
forwarded to the Palace now, My Emperor?”

DeChastelaine looked at Hood whose face now had a shocked expression.
A lot could have happened in five hours. “Why weren’t these messages
forwarded immediately, Captain?” DeChastelaine didn’t try to hide his
annoyance. 

“My sincerest apologies, My Emperor! Our orders were to
prevent outgoing transmissions until this section could be returned to the
supervision of Space Force personnel. My fellow Guard officers and I took that
to mean all outgoing transmissions, which we assumed included relaying messages
to the Palace.” 

DeChastelaine’s anger quickly evaporated. He had given the
Guard those orders, and it was his fault for not making his orders explicit
enough to avoid this kind of misunderstanding. 

“In hindsight, your orders should have been more explicit.
From now on, any incoming message from any extra-solar source is to be relayed
to the Palace to my attention immediately. Make sure everyone there understands
that, Captain.”  

A quick check with the Palace Comm. Section revealed that
they had received the two text messages which appeared on the wall
display. 

[Logan to Emperor DeChastelaine. The 107th has successfully
repelled an attempt by an alien fleet to circle around TE33 and enter this
system from the rear. One enemy ship was destroyed, five were crippled, seven
were able to retreat back through the TF33 wormhole. The present whereabouts of
those ships is unknown. Given their loses, I’m convinced the risk of their
heading closer to Sol is low, but I recommend that Capital Fleet take the
appropriate precautions. The 34th and 74th squadrons are on their way to recon
TD39. No report from them has been received yet. My marines are in the process
of searching the five cripples for survivors, but so far no alien crew either
dead or alive have been found. Additional information will be forwarded when it
becomes available. End of message.] 

[Logan to Emperor DeChastelaine. Elements of the 55th
cruiser squadron have detected the enemy transit of 7 ships through the TE34
system at a speed of only 3.3C. We have reason to believe that one of those
ships was damaged during the battle and this may explain the slower warp speed.
The 107th cannot get to TE34 quickly enough to intercept them. The enemy
appears to be heading back to Rift space. End of message.] 

“My God, he did it!” said a visibly elated Hood. 

DeChastelaine felt a heavy burden lift from his shoulders.
The war was probably not over, but at least the immediate threat to Earth
appeared to be gone. That meant he could now concentrate on getting the Space
Force command structure rebuilt and operational again. 

“If Logan keeps this up, he won’t need an Imperial Warrant
to command a fleet. What reply, if any, would you recommend, Commander?” 

Hood didn’t speak right away, and it was obvious to
DeChastelaine that she was having difficulty organizing her thoughts due to
fatigue. He let her take as much time as she needed. 

“I would recommend a ‘well done’ message with orders for
the 107th to move forward to TD39 if that can be done without excessive risk,
My Emperor.” 

“Yes, I agree. We need to find out what’s going on at TD39,
if at all possible. I’ll send that message after I talk to Admiral Bishop.
You’re free to go, Commander.” 

With Hood gone, a video channel was quickly set up between
DeChastelaine’s office and the room where Bishop was still being detained. She
had already been vetted by verifier test and had passed with flying
colors. 

“Admiral Bishop, I’m pleased to see that you’ve passed the
verifier test, and I regret the fact that the situation is still so chaotic
that I have not had a chance to order your release yet, but that oversight will
be corrected now. As soon as we finish speaking, you’ll be allowed to leave the
Palace, but before we get to that, I’d like to speak with you about your next
assignment. How would you like to be the new Chief of Space Force
Operations?” 

Bishop, who clearly had been annoyed, suddenly looked
stunned.  “Ah…I don’t know what to say, My Emperor. I don’t know if I’m the
right person for that position.” 

DeChastelaine chuckled. “Your self-doubts are a refreshing
change from the monumental egos that most flag officers seem to have. I chose
you because you are one of the few flag officers who seem to have advanced to
your present rank and responsibilities due to merit and not to political
patronage.” 

“I thank My Emperor for those kind words, but being asked
to lead Space Force…that’s a scary prospect, if My Emperor doesn’t mind me
saying so.” 

“Well, I won’t expect you to carry the whole load on your
own shoulders, Admiral. Your first task will be to streamline the HQ command
structure and then fill it with competent and reliable people. If you agree to
this assignment, I’ll have the appointment confirmed officially and publicly.
By the way, do you think there really needs to be seven levels of flag
officers?” 

“No, My Emperor. I think with the right structure, we could
manage quite well with five levels.” 

“Very good. I agree. Therefore your new rank will be as a
5-star admiral. Start designing the command structure, and when you have something
to show me, I’d also like you to have a list of candidates to fill in the
4-star rank positions immediately below you. I’m going to reserve the right to
approve or not approve all promotions to flag rank and all appointments filled
by flag rank officers, but I’ll let you make recommendations as to who you
think can do the job competently. Is that an acceptable arrangement,
Admiral?” 

“Yes, My Emperor, I think that will work quite well.” 

“Excellent. You should know that I’ve ordered a temporary
blackout of outgoing FTL transmissions except for communications with the
107th. Any message you feel should be sent out will have to be approved by me
for the time being. I’ve also put Senior Commander Hood in charge of the SBWG
as an interim measure until the re-organization is complete. If you feel that
other ad hoc measures should be taken, I’m willing to listen to your
recommendations. You probably won’t get everything you ask for, but at least
you’ll have the opportunity to try to convince me. I won’t expect you to start
your new duties until tomorrow, Admiral. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to think
about between now and then.” 

“That I will, and thank you for this vote of confidence.
I’ll try to live up to your expectations.” 

“Glad to hear it. Until tomorrow then, Admiral
Bishop.” 

With that task out of the way, DeChastelaine began
recording a message to Logan. “To Fleet Commander Logan. Congratulations on
your victory… 

* * * *
* 

Logan was in the middle of eating a hasty meal when the
ship’s Comm. Section notified him of an incoming message from the Capital.
It’s
about damn time,
Logan thought as he had the message sent to his personal
data tablet. 

[To Fleet Commander Logan. Congratulations on your victory.
The 107th will be awarded a fleet-wide commendation for its first battle
victory. Regaining control of Tango Delta 39 is desirable but is subordinate to
maintaining the combat integrity of the 107th. The timing of any move forward
is at your discretion. Be aware that an attempted coup by Admiral Hiakawa and
other senior flag officers has been put down. Space Force command structure is
currently in a state of flux. Until notified otherwise, you are to accept
orders only from me. End of message. DeChastelaine]