Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike (21 page)

Baggett looked over at the Admiral, thinking
through what he said.

“I was the one put in charge, son,” said
Lenkowski after Baggett didn’t speak.  “There might have been a young genius in
my command, an ensign, or even a petty officer, who could have done a better
job if given a chance.  But we didn’t know that, and, for all my shortcomings,
I’m a known quantity.  Just like you were to your own superiors.  You were
given command, someone else wasn’t.  And so you had to take the shit on your
shoulders.  But don’t let anyone tell you that you did a piss poor job.  Hell,
son.  Sonia Sopworth said you did as fine a job of leadership, holding out
against that horde, as anyone she had ever heard of.”

Baggett simply sat there and nodded his head,
not knowing what to say, but absorbing the words of a man who had been a flag
officer three times longer than he had been in the service, including the
military academy.

“The General did have one negative comment
about you though,” said the Admiral.  “Though, coming from a Marine, I think it
was partially admiration.”

“And what was that, sir?”

“She thought you exposed yourself way too
much.  And she had a comment about your close in blade work.”

Baggett found himself laughing, and wondering
how his mood had changed so quickly. 
Damn Marines think they’re such hot
shit.

“She also said she would be proud to serve
under you any day, General.  And, coming from that Marine, that is high praise
indeed.”

Very high praise
, thought Baggett. 
Most of the Marines he knew, and he knew many, would cut off their right arms
before praising a soldier.

“Feel better?” asked Len, patting Baggett on
the shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” said Baggett, getting up from his
seat.  “Thank you.”

He made way for the Admiral to get up and get
by, then moved and sat back down, kneeling from that position.  He looked at
the Priest, still standing beside the pew.  “And Father.  Thank you.”

*    
*     *

SECTOR IV SPACE. 
DECEMBER 5
^TH
, 1001.

“Dr. Southard,” said the young woman who
greeted him in the hangar.  “Welcome aboard the
Gringo.
”

“Thank you, uh.”

“Kallie Wyse,” said the woman, who was dressed
in an unmarked ship jumper.  “I’m the third officer.”

“No Naval ranks?”

“Oh, hell no,” she said, shaking her head. 
“We’re a civilian research vessel, chartered under military contract.  The
Imperial University at Capitulum holds title to the ship.  Anyway, I’m here to
show you to your quarters.  One of the spacers will bring along your bags. 
Then we’ll go and meet the Captain.”

Gringo
was not a large ship, only about seventy
thousand tons, and capable of hyper VII travel.  The hangar was only large
enough for two shuttles, the one she kept aboard, and temporary stowage for the
shuttle that had carried Southard from the light cruiser he had traveled into
the system on.   He had wondered at the time why they were going past the hyper
barrier to meet the research ship. 
Or, why the damned cruiser wouldn’t go
past the hyper barrier to deliver me, and instead only risked the shuttle.
 
There had been a trio of destroyers outside the limit as well, and he had heard
one of the ratings aboard the cruiser talk about the wormhole com one of those
ships carried.

“Can ask you a question, Miss Wyse?” he asked
just before they got to his quarters, down one of the two corridors that housed
research personnel.

“You can call me Kallie, Dr. Southard.  You’re
not in the chain of command, and we don’t really stand on formality here.”

“Then call me Larry,” said Southard, as the
door to his quarters opened.

It was actually larger than he expected, a five
meter square room with bed, desk, kitchenette, and two doors, one leading to
the bathroom, another to a closet.  He knew this kind of ship, which might go
on a research cruise for a year or more, and was made as comfortable as
possible for its passengers and crew.  Or as comfortable as could be, once
supplies and state of the art sensors were crammed into the hull.

“And what was your question, Larry?” asked the
young woman as she waved the spacer with his luggage into the room.

“Why are we so far in from the hyper barrier? 
Isn’t that a major risk, this close to this big boy blowing its top?”

“Oh, there’s no danger of that happening for at
least a couple of months,” said Kallie in a very cavalier tone.  “We’ll move
out behind the barrier well before anything can happen.”

“And why do you believe that nothing will
happen for at least two months?”

“That’s what Dr. Tashiga told the Captain,”
said the Third Officer.  “He said that, based on his theories of stellar
evolution, this star will continue burning neon for at least two months before
it goes into oxygen, and then silicon burning, causing a collapse.”

“It’s already burning neon?” Southard asked in
alarm.  “How long has that been going on?”

“About five days,” said the Third Officer, her
eyes widening at the scientist’s tone.  “Why?”

“We don’t have much time,” said Southard,
storming from the room.  “Where is your Captain?”

“The Captain is off duty at this time,” said
Kallie.  “The First Officer has the con at the moment.”

“And Dr. Tashiga?”

The woman went into link for a moment,
something Larry couldn’t do on this ship, not having yet been granted access. 
“He’s on the observation deck.”

“Then take me there.”

Moments later the Scientist was led onto the so
called observation deck, with was really a very complete scientific observation
suite, with multiple stations and over a dozen holos, including one very large
3D viewer where the normal
window
would be on the deck.

The view in the largest holo was spectacular,
the roiling surface of a supergiant star with over fifty sols of mass.  Once
two blue supergiants that had been in an unstable orbit around each other, they
had fallen into a single mass that was a thousand times brighter and hotter. 
And one whose lifespan was much reduced over what the two individual stars
would have enjoyed.  Those stars had already entered the carbon burning stage
that produced neon, about two hundred years before, and doomed them to
supernova about four hundred years down the line.  Now, because of their
increased mass, that cycle had ended, and the star was burning neon, fusing it
to oxygen.  Huge prominences arched from the surface of the star, some curling
to splash back onto the brilliant surfaces, others to continue flying out into
space.

Another holo showed a schematic of the twenty
close in observation platforms that were arrayed around the star at ten
astronomical units, about one point five billion kilometers out.  Even at that
distance they were still absorbing fierce amounts of stellar radiation.  They
were, of course, getting their information on the star over one and a half
hours from the time it was happening, due to the light speed limit.  The plot
showed
Gringo
was two light hours further out, way too close, to
Southard’s way of thinking.  They were using a subspace relay from the
satellites, and getting their information ten minutes after the fact, still a
great improvement over the light speed limit of normal transmissions.

Southard’s eyes glanced over the other holos
until he came to the one that was of the most importance, the main sensor scan
of the star.  Spectrographs, deep radar, subspace pulses, they were combined on
this holo to give a picture of what was going on in this star.  And he didn’t
like what the star was showing him.  It was still burning neon, at a much
reduced rate, and oxygen was starting to fuse in the core. By his estimation,
based on eyeballing the star, oxygen would be used up in a little over a week
and a half, and silicon would become the dominant substance.  The silicon would
fuse, resulting in the production of iron in the core, and the collapse that
would cause a supernova.  The last stage would probably last a couple of hours.

“There you are,” said Dr. Yoshi Tashiga,
turning in his chair to stare at Southard.  “I told them you weren’t needed
here.  That your theories were wrong, and I was right.”

“And still a pompous ass, eh, Yoshi,” said
Southard, glaring at the man who was his prime rival.  “I guess it’s a good
thing I got here, then.”

Chapter
Thirteen

Politics have no relation to
morals.   Niccolo Machiavelli

THE
DONUT. 
DECEMBER
6
^TH
, 1001.

“Welcome aboard the
Donut
, your
Majesty.  My Lady,” said Dr. Lucille Yu, smiling as she bowed at the waist.

Two score of Marines in their ceremonial red
uniforms performed a rifle salute at the same time.  The other fifty Marines in
the chamber were in full battle armor, the medium suits normally worn for
shipboard actions, where maneuverability was paramount.  The Imperial Secret
Service and the Imperial Intelligence Agency were also here in force, over
forty agents in the room, all trying to look nondescript in the business suits
their operatives normally wore.  And all failing miserably, as those suits, of
a very conservative cut, were all that was needed to give away their function.

There were scores of newsies in the room as
well, the select few of the thousands who had wanted to be here.  Sean knew
that all had direct mind uplinks to their networks, and that everything they
saw and heard was being cast on their home planets, if near enough, or recorded
for later playback.  Dozens of small drones floated through the air, adding to
the footage, and all carefully programed to stay clear of the Imperial couple,
who had a security field around them projected by their closest battle suited
Marine guards.  Any unauthorized device that entered that field would be
deactivated, if not destroyed, and its owner would find him or herself the
center of questioning as to their intentions.

Sean held the arm of his Fiancé within the
curve of his own, her left hand resting lightly on his forearm.  He looked at
her face for a moment, seeing her nervousness at appearing in front of such a
large gathering.  She looked up into his eyes, swallowed, smiled, then composed
herself and nodded her head. 
Good girl
, thought Sean, nodding back,
then stepping forward to shake Dr. Yu’s hand.  He knew that Jennifer would
never relish the public eye.  As long as she could tolerate it in small doses,
everything would be fine.

“Thank you, Director Yu,” he told the woman in
front of the cameras.  “And I am very happy that the
Donut
is still here
for me to be greeted on.”

“Amen to that,” whispered Read Admiral Kelso,
who had just come out of the wormhole in time to hear the last comment.

“We have set up a stand over here to allow you
to speak to the press, your Majesty,” said Yu, waving toward a heavy faux wood
structure set toward the near end of the gate room.

Sean glanced at Jennifer, and she nodded once
again.  He had told her there might be questions, and it was his job as the
Supreme Ruler of the Empire to talk to the press.  Especially since Samantha
had made a deal with the press, allowing them access to him at times like this,
in return for them getting on board with Sean’s other policies, like giving the
war effort a positive spin.  But another part of the deal was that Jennifer was
not fair game for their questions.  Until and unless she agreed to an
interview.

The couple walked over to the stand, which had
seats arranged behind it.  Sean helped Jennifer into one of the chairs, then
took his place behind the podium and started to receive questions.  A few of
the reporters still tried to direct questions to Jennifer, but for the most
part Sean deflected them, and passed over those reporters.  Until finally a
question came that he hadn’t been expecting.

“Zoe Chan,” said the Asian woman who had waited
her turn patiently.  “Galactic News Network.  Is it true that we have a new
method of detecting the shape shifting aliens that have caused so much
trouble?”

Sean froze, a troubled expression on his face. 
How in the hell did they find out so quickly
? was his first thought,
followed a second later by,
this is supposed to be top secret information. 
If it’s leaked, we lose a big advantage in trying to catch the bastards.

“I am sorry, but I cannot say anything on that
subject,” he told the reporter, smiling, trying to disarm the situation.

“If you can’t, your Majesty,” asked the reporter,
“who can?  After all, you are at the top of the intelligence heap.  If there’s
an answer out there, you must know it.”

“Oh, I know the answer,” said Sean, motioning
to one of his security staff, then linking to that agent’s com.  “I just don’t
think I can give you an answer at this time.” 
Make sure that none of this
gets out to the public,
he sent over his implant to his Chief of Detail.
 
Remove any mention of this topic from the casts, and take Ms. Chan into custody
at the end of this interview.  I want to know where she has gotten this
information.

Yes, sir,
came back the reply, and Sean could see
agents already on the move to make sure they were near to Ms. Chan.

Zoe Chan saw the movement, and seemed to have
realized that she had asked the wrong question.  The young woman sat down and
tried to disappear, but the damage was already done.  Now it was damage
control, making sure that none of these people spread rumors that caused as
much damage as a disclosure would.

If the damned shifters know we have new ways of
detecting them, they will go to ground, and avoid penetration of secret
facilities.  They will attack us where they can, more assassinations and
bombings, only the targets will be those we can’t properly defend.

After another hour the press conference was
over, and Sean couldn’t wait to get back to the front, where he didn’t have to
deal with such things.  Most of the questions had dealt with the military
situation, and the recently concluded Battle of Congreeve.  Sean was happy to
answer those questions, as one of the reasons for that battle was to raise the
morale of the Empire, and what he had told them could only bring hope. 
And
hopefully, Bagration will raise it more.

“Those are all the questions we have time to
answer,” said one of the Emperor’s Press People.  “We have data chips for all
of you that you might find interesting.”

Sean was on his feet in an instant, leading
Jennifer away from the stand and toward the exit from the chamber, his armed
guards and entourage forming up around him.  Lucille Yu walked with him,
filling him in on the state of the station, and all of the new construction
going on in the local space.  Sean was careful to not give her any information
she was not privy to already, since there were many things going on that she
did not have a need to know.

The Emperor looked with approval on all the
military personnel he saw on the way to the tram, then on to the next gate
room.  Most of the soldiers, Marines and spacers were in soft uniforms, though
all were at least carrying side arms.  Every single one of them, all looking
very alert so soon after the attack on the station.  One in every four
soldiers, and half of the Marines, were wearing battle armor, and were heavily
armed.   There were also many more than he remembered from his last trip, and
linking into the station computer, he was gratified to see that the military
presence had doubled since the attack, and that more were scheduled to be
assigned.

The next gate took them directly to the portal
at the Hexagon, the closest one to the palace, and one of two that had now been
installed in the capital city.  Sean decided he really didn’t want to have to
deal with the public any more this day, so he and his party took the lift into
the depths of the building, kilometers down, into the hidden, secret rooms of
the structure.  From there they took the private train to the palace, itself
debarking into the Imperial refuge far beneath the main building on the
grounds.

“I am so happy to be home,” said Jennifer as
they finally reached the private quarters of the Emperor and his family, which
at the moment consisted of a couple score cousins and Sean’s soon to be wife.

“We have a dinner scheduled with Samantha, the
Prime Minister and some of my cabinet,” said Sean, linking into the palace
computer.  “Are you up to it?”

“Not really,” said Jennifer, her expression one
of extreme fatigue.  “Can I skip out.”

“Of course,” agreed Sean, sitting down next to
her on the bed and putting an arm around her.  He kissed her tenderly, then
forced himself to get up from the bed.  “I need to get ready.  I’ll be back
soon.  And I‘ve scheduled a special ceremony for tomorrow.  One I don’t think
you’ll want to miss.”

“We’ll see when tomorrow comes,” she said,
walking toward the master bath.  “I’m going to relax, then catch some sleep. 
Wake me when you get back here, and I’ll have a special ceremony for you as
well.”

Dinner was in the Gold Room, a formal dining
chamber used for occasions of state.  Only one of the thirty tables in the room
was occupied, though it was seated to capacity with all the members of the
Cabinet, the chiefs of the military, the Prime Minister, and, of course, the
Regent.  Only a few security personnel were in the room, their eyes constantly
roaming, even in this supremely secure location.

“Jennifer will be staying here after the
wedding,” said Sean, looking at Samantha.  “She says she has had enough of
going into combat.”

“Smart girl,” said Samantha.  “So, she will be
Empress after the ceremony.  And I can leave this job.”

“Sorry,” said Sean, after taking a sip from his
wine glass.   “Jennifer really doesn’t have any experience with government, and
she has no idea how to deal with some of the snakes we are inflicted with.  I
will depend on you and Haruko,” he gestured at the Prime Minister, “to teach
her the ropes.”

“That could take some time,” said the Prime
Minister, frowning, then taking a sip of the vintage reserved for the imperial
line.

“Then take the time.  I really don’t expect for
her to become a master manipulator.  She doesn’t have the upbringing to become
one of us.  Or, to put it frankly, the heart.”

“Then, perhaps your Majesty should consider
marrying someone who has been raised for the role,” said Lord Halbrook, the
Minister of the Exchequer.

“I love this woman, my Lord,” said Sean,
glaring at the man. 
He means well, and has turned out to be a better ally
than I thought.  But dammit, this is my decision.

“Then keep her as your mistress,” said Lord
Garis, the
Minister of State.  “It’s been done before, and no one will even
care.”

“No one except me and Jennifer,” said Sean,
resisting the urge to smash his glass on the table top.  “And we’re the only
ones who count in this matter.”

“Only a suggestion, your Majesty,” said Garis,
holding up a hand.  “I meant no offense, as I am sure Halbrook did not.”

And we will be hearing more and more of this in
the time leading up to the wedding
, thought Sean, making the decision to hurry
the process up to reduce the complaining to a dull roar. 
After all, once
it’s a fait accompli, the naysayers will be drowned out by those who will want
to wish us great happiness.

“I want the wedding scheduled for Saturday,”
said Sean, looking over at his Regent.  “Get your people on it.”

“That only gives me five days,” said Samantha
with a frown.

“Any reason it can’t be done?”

“No, Sean.  It will inconvenience some people,
and some others may have their feelings hurt when they can’t get here in time. 
But getting it done is not a problem.”

“Good.  And I want Cornelius here, by
tomorrow.  I have something in mind for that boy.”

“He’s already here, with his family,” said
Samantha.  “We extended his pass, since a good portion of it was spent dealing
with the enemies of the Empire.”

“I figured we could let him finish up his
training with the class that started just after his,” said Grand Marshal
Mishori Yamakuri, the
Army Chief of Staff.  “It only seems fair,
especially since you already expressed your wishes for him to be at the
wedding.”

“He’s finished with his class,” said Sean,
looking into the eyes of the head of his army.  “As of right now, he is
officially a second lieutenant.”

“That’s quite irregular, your Majesty,”
protested the Grand Marshal.  “There may be rumors of favoritism that follow
him around through his career.”

“I know all about that, Mishori,” said Sean,
nodding.  “After all, it was something I had to deal with when I was at the
Academy.  But in his case he earned it.  I looked over the after action
report.  He led a combined force of Army and Fleet personnel into an assault
that took one of those big bombs away from the enemy.  And then was
instrumental in getting the device off the station.  I would say the young hero
passed his leadership exam with flying colors.  So he’s a second lieutenant as
of now, date of rank to be the day he stepped out of the wormhole on that
station and into battle.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Grand Marshal with a
smile.  “How can I argue with that.  And where would you like us to station
him?  After the wedding is over, of course.”

“Preacher asked for him,” said Sean, thinking
back to his conversation with Major General Walther Jodel, the man now in
charge of all Special Ops forces in Sector IV.  “I’m sure he can come up with
something for the young man to do.”