Exodus: Empires at War: Book 7: Counter Strike (23 page)

I hope it’s not another damned medal
, thought the Ranger,
already feeling uncomfortable enough with the two. 
If it is one, please,
dear God, let it be a lesser award.

Two Marines in ceremonial red rendered a rifle
salute as he approached the door to the chamber.  An Army Colonel saluted as
well, then stopped Cornelius to give his uniform a once over, making sure everything
was in place.  “Perfect,” said the Colonel, after inspecting the Ranger’s
uniform.  “Now do us proud, Ranger.”

I wish I knew what I was doing us proud about
, he thought as one of
the Marines opened a large wooden door and gestured for him to walk in.

Cornelius almost stopped in shock as he saw
that room.  Only because he was already moving did he continue.  The room was
filled with people, civilian and military.  The military people were all field
grade and above, with a preponderance of flag officers, Generals and Admirals. 
Cornelius recognized some cabinet ministers, and a couple score men and women
wearing the clothing of nobles.  Almost all of them were wearing a decorative
plate on their upper chests, suspended from a platinum chain around their
necks.  Cornelius thought the decoration looked familiar, but he could not
recall what it was.

A red carpet stretched ahead, leading up to a
low set of stairs that led to a raised dais.  Sean, in his Commander in Chief’s
uniform, eight stars on his shoulder boards, stood there, Jennifer by his side
in a blue dress that set off her red hair perfectly.  A man stood near Sean, a
Brigadier with the same decoration hanging from around his neck, a long sword
sitting on a pillow he held in both hands.

“Cornelius Walborski,” said Sean in a strong
voice.  “Come forward to be recognized.”

Cornelius swallowed, then marched forward with
a straight back and leveled shoulders.  He caught sight of his wife and adopted
daughter out of the corner of his eye.  Both had wide smiles on their faces,
Rebecca holding both of her hands to her chest.  The Ranger walked up the
steps, afraid that he was going to fall flat on his face because of the
ceremonial sword at his side, something he was not used to wearing.

“Kneel,” ordered Sean, and a voice on his
implant told Walborski to kneel on the cushion just in front of the Monarch.

Oh shit
, thought Cornelius, understanding dawning. 
They
can’t be serious.

“We are here today to welcome a brave man to
our ranks,” said Sean, reaching for the sword on the cushion, then holding it
up into the air.  “One who has shown his total devotion to the Empire, through
his deeds, in defense of all we hold dear.  He has proven his worth before, as
can be seen by the double award he wears on his breast.  He deserves another
such.  Instead, we have decided upon another honor.”

Sean looked into Cornelius’ eyes, a smile on
his face that was soon replaced by the stern look that the ceremony called
for.  “All knights are nobles.  The very act of being made a knight enobles the
blood of the recipient.  But not all nobles are knights.  Only those found
worthy by deed are inducted into our ranks.  You, Cornelius Walborski, have
been found such, and it is my pleasure to make you one of us.”

The Emperor placed the blade of the sword on
Cornelius’ left shoulder and let it rest there for a moment.  He raised the
sword over the head of the Ranger, then placed it on Cornelius’s right
shoulder.  “I name you a Knight of the Empire, with all the rights, privileges
and responsibilities of that title.”

Sean looked Cornelius in the eyes, and the
Ranger could see the heartfelt love and respect the man had for him.  “Arise,
Sir Cornelius, Knight of the Empire.”

Cornelius got slowly to his feet, still shocked
at what had just happened.  Physically, he didn’t feel any different.  But he
knew that now he was thought of in a different way by the people in this room.

Sean placed the sword back on the pillow and
accepted one of the pieces of metal from Jennifer, who also gave Sean a wide
smile.  Sean motioned for the Ranger to bow his head, then placed the chain and
the decoration around Cornelius’ neck.  “Take your place with your brothers and
sisters, Sir Cornelius,” he told the Ranger, offering his hand for a shake.

Cornelius’ implant signaled him to walk back
down the steps and to the side, to a place between a couple of other officers
with the knight symbol hanging from their necks.  As soon as he had taken his
place, another man entered the room and walked to the front.  This one was also
wearing an Imperial Army uniform, the symbol of Heavy Infantry on his collar. 
The twin stars of a Major General were prominent on his shoulder boards.

I know him
, thought Cornelius, looking closely at
the familiar face, which seemed much the worse for wear, especially the eyes. 
Baggett. 
From Sestius.  But he was only a colonel then.  And now he looks like he’s been
through hell.

Sean repeated the ceremony with the General,
adding another member to the knighthood.  After he was through with Baggett,
Sean knighted one more man and a pair of women, two of them Fleet, one a
Marine.

“Refreshments await in the Platinum Room,” said
Sean after the last new member had joined the ranks.  “Welcome our brothers and
sisters into our fellowship.  And to our new members, tonight there is no rank,
only the companionship of equals.”

Rebecca ran up to Cornelius after the Emperor
left the dais, her face alight with happiness.  “Does this make Devera a lady?”
she asked breathlessly.

“She was already a lady,” said Cornelius,
pulling his wife into a hug.  “But now she gets the title.”

“It is so good to see you, Sir Cornelius,” said
Jennifer, walking up to them, putting a hand on Rebecca’s head.  “And so good
to see you with a family.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” he told the woman,
snagging a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing tray, handing them to
the two women, then grabbing another for himself.  “I think you honor me too
much.”

“You deserve all that Sean has granted, Sir
Cornelius,” Jennifer said with a head shake.  “If not for you, we might be
looking at the swift conclusion of this war.  And not a conclusion that we
would like.”

Cornelius felt himself blushing from the
compliments.

“Enjoy them while you can get them, honey,”
said Devera with a laugh.  “God knows, when you become a General someday,
they’ll be screaming for your head.”

Jennifer laughed, a musical sound that turned
heads their way.  “She may have something there.  But now, I have a message
from Sean.  Enjoy the party, but afterwards, he wants to have a word with you.”

Cornelius did enjoy the party, rubbing elbows
with people who were so far above him in the rank structure that he had trouble
seeing them in the great distance between them.  All seemed generally
welcoming, though he was also sure that all would send him to his death in a
heartbeat if the Empire needed them to.  Not that he held that against them, as
he might have to do the same with people under his command.

He was led to Sean when he asked one of the
staff where he was.  Sean was seated behind a desk, looking over several holos,
including one that showed the extent of the enemy incursions into the Empire. 
He was on his feet as soon as the Ranger entered, holding out his hand.  “I
want to give you a personal handshake, my friend.  And a personal thank you for
saving our asses.”

“Just doing my job, your Majesty.  It seemed
like something that needed doing, and I was there.”

“Sometimes I wish someone like you were sitting
on the throne, while I was out commanding a destroyer.”  Sean shook his head, a
wistful smile on his face.  “Unfortunately, the job is mine.”

“I’m just good at breaking things, your
Majesty,” said Cornelius, taking the offered chair and pouring himself a cup of
coffee.

“Very good at breaking things,” said Sean with
a laugh.  “I have to make sure you get more and better tools for breaking
things in the future.”  Sean looked down for a moment, then over at the holo,
before returning his gaze to Walborski.  “You’re going into Preacher’s
command.  Not sure where yet, since he controls the entirety of Sector IV’s
special ops.  But he requested you, personally.  Not that I had any doubt that
you would be going to the prime sector of battle.”

“I am honored that the General asked for me,
your Majesty.”

“But that can wait until after my wedding,”
said Sean with a smile.  “After all, I had the honor of attending yours, and I
wouldn’t want you to miss out on mine.  And, I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it, your Majesty.”

“I would like you to be my Best Man at the
ceremony.”

“Are you sure, your Majesty?” asked Cornelius
in surprise.  “Surely you have more senior people to give that honor to.”

“Well,” said the Emperor with a twinkle in his
eye.  “None of them have your talent for breaking things.  And that kind of
ability must be cherished and nurtured.”

Chapter
Fourteen

If you are going to
sin, sin against God, not the bureaucracy. God will forgive you but the
bureaucracy won't.

Hyman
Rickover

OUTSIDE CONUNDRUM
SYSTEM.  DECEMBER 9
^TH
, 1001.

Doctor Ivan Smirnov stood on the observation
deck of the Ca’cadasan supercruiser and watched as the ship opened a hole from
normal space into hyper I.  The ship was one of four of the four million ton
vessels, along with their escort of eight scout ships. 
I’m glad they feel
we’re important enough for a strong force
, he thought, looking over at his
wife and children as they sat anxiously watching the big aliens who took up
much of the chamber.  Ostensibly those big males were there to guard them,
though he was sure they would also kill him, and his family, on orders from
above, without the slightest compunction.

At least we’re safe, for now
, thought the New
Muscovite scientist. 
And we’ll remain safe, as long as I deliver on my
promise.

That he could deliver he had no doubt, as long
as the aliens followed his directions.  It might take a year or two, but they
would have wormholes, at least enough for command and control, and moving some
ships from points across long distances. 
And maybe I can get some more
humans off the targeting reticle
, he thought, shaking his head at the
stubbornness of his species. 
They have to know they can’t win this thing. 
The Ca’cadasan Empire is just too damned big.  All they’re doing is delaying
the inevitable.

He looked once again at the holo of the space
around them that was displayed in the chamber, hoping that he saw nothing that
looked like an Imperial ship. 
If they catch us, we’re dead
, he thought,
looking over at his wife, who returned a resentful stare. 
I couldn’t let
that happen, dear, and someday I hope you’ll get over it.

She had let him know that she did not like the
idea of his turning traitor, of betraying his own species.  She couldn’t seem
to take the realistic view, wanting to resist, even if it cost her life and
that of her children. 
Well, I can’t allow us to die.  Not if I have the
means of keeping us alive.

“Is everything OK, Dr. Smirnov?” asked one of
the humans who had grown up around the Ca’cadasans, proof to the scientist that
the big aliens didn’t mean to exterminate the species after all.  Why would they
keep humans around if that was their intention?  No, they meant to conquer
humanity and add them to their own Empire, not the best outcome for the human
race.  And far from the worst, truth be told.

*    
*     *

“We’re picking up alien ships moving along in
hyper VII,” said Lt. SG Lasardo, the Tactical Officer of the James Komorov. 
“At the extreme range of our sensors, and coming this way.”

“Identification?” asked Captain Maurice von
Rittersdorf, the commander of the hyper VII destroyer.

“Looks to be a quartet of their supercruisers,
along with six, no, eight, scouts.”

The Captain looked at the tactical holo that
showed the enemy ships, in hyper VII and accelerating at five hundred
gravities, up to point seven light relative to the dimension.  He knew that
according to Caca doctrine the aliens would get up to point nine five light,
using their superior shields to ward off radiation, and nothing the Empire had
would be able to catch them.

Calling up a holo of that area, von Rittersdorf
noted that he had three missiles stationed very near to where those ships would
pass.  Almost directly in their path, which veered just a bit from the course
that most Caca ships took to leave the Empire. 
It’s got to be important,
whatever they are carrying.  The number of ships.  The heading, out of the
Empire, maybe, unless they’re on their way to that little corner of the
Sector.  Smart money would bet they are carrying something they don’t want us
to intercept.  But what?  And does it really matter, as long as it’s important
to them?

“When do we need to send a subspace signal to
those missiles to achieve an intercept?” he asked Lasardo, walking over to the
tactical station.

“Within the next ten minutes, forty seconds,”
said the officer, doing the calculations quickly on his board.

Subspace signals traveled twelve times faster
than light, going through their own dimension that was a twelve to one
correspondence with real space.  The Cacas were traveling in hyper VII at point
seven c, giving them a pseudospeed of twenty-eight thousand times the speed of
light.  If
Komorov
were not well ahead of them in space it would already
be too late to send the command.  And if the missiles translated into hyper VII
after the aliens had passed them, they would never catch up before they ran out
of power and translated back into normal space, in the form of particles.

“Send the signal,” ordered the Captain, looking
over the holo one more time.  “We may not get more than one of them, even if
we’re lucky.  But the one we get may be the one we need to get.”

The Captain took a few steps over to the com
station, to stand behind that officer.  “Connect me with the Commodore.  I
think he needs to know about this.”

*    
*     *

“I understand, Captain,” Commodore Edward Lacy,
the Admiral’s fill in while she was on a short leave for the wedding, told the
young man on the wormhole com. 
I see higher rank in your future von
Rittersdorf
, he thought.  He had approved of the Captain’s actions at
launching some of his weapons at the Cacas.  “I don’t see what else we can do
at this moment.  Most of our assets are spread as a net between Conundrum and
the inner sector, or the pathway back to Caca space.  Anything I cut loose to
send after them will never catch them.”

“You could send my force, Commodore,” said von
Rittersdorf, his anxiety plain on his face.

Not a very good choice if you want to live out
the war
,
thought the Commodore, smiling at the young man. 
But I appreciate the
offer.
  There was no way von Rittersdorf and the six destroyers in his
force could take on that many Cacas vessels and survive, even if by chance they
could catch them.  The odds of them even getting through the scouts to the
supercruisers were nothing short of astronomical.  The only reason the missiles
launched ahead of the Cacas had a chance was because they would seem to come
out of nowhere, right into the paths of the enemy ships. 
Now if you were in
a better placement
, he thought, looking at the holo. 
You could empty
your magazines into them before they could react.  But you are not in the
proper placement.

“No, Captain,” he told the courageous officer. 
“I don’t see any reason to just throw you and your crews away on such a forlorn
hope.  We’ll let the Admiralty know what we saw, and if they want to try and do
anything about it, they can.”

“Yes, sir,” said von Rittersdorf, the relief
clear on his face.  “We’ll keep tracking them as long as we can, in case they
happen to change their course within our sensor envelope.  Any other orders,
sir?”

“I think it might be a good idea to put some
more missiles on that path, in case they try something like this again.” 
Because
it looks like they are reacting to the losses of so many of their couriers by
trying something new.  Though, with a force that size, I wouldn’t think they
would have a problem running the Slot back to their homeland
, he thought,
using the term they had come up with for the area outside the border of Sector
IV space, lying between the New Terran Republic and the Kingdom of New Moscow. 
It was a term that had been used in the South Pacific in World War II, when the
Japanese had run ships through a sea lane between several islands.

Of course, now that the New Terran Republic and
the Crakista were attacking ships in that region, it might seem a good idea for
the enemy to avoid it. 
But they can’t know about those operations here, can
they?

“And if they do try to do it again?” asked the
Captain.

“Then hit them with everything you’ve got, as
long as it doesn’t risk your command.  You’re more important on picket duty,
giving us notification of their movements, than in trying to stop a force
larger than your own.  Still, I’m going to ask the Admiralty for more of the
remote attack missiles for your area.  I might not be able to get many, but I
will make sure you get as many as I can steal.”

“We’re about thirty seconds from attack,” said
von Rittersdorf, looking off the holo.

The Commdore kept the link open as he waited
for the firing, on the edge of his seat as he held his breath.  Hoping that
they would get some good results from the impromptu ambush.

*    
*     *

“We have translations ahead,” called out the
voice of a Ca’cadasan from the bridge.

What the hell?
thought Dr. Ivan
Smirnov, his head turning quickly back to the holo that showed the region they
were traversing. 
How the hell could they have known I was aboard?  Or even
what I was going to do?

Three objects appeared on the holo, only
seconds away from the small force.  Acceleration figures appeared under the
missiles, ten thousand gravities, Smirnov’s implant converting the Caca script
into something he could read.  If they had been coming in from just about any
angle they could not have caught the Caca force, which was now accelerating at
five hundred and twenty-five gravities, building up its velocity in hyper.

The Caca ships opened fire, their lasers aiming
on the juking weapons.  Particle beams were useless, their matter dropping back
into normal space as soon as they left the hyper fields of their firing
vessels.  And the weapons were too close, coming in too fast with the combined
closing velocities, for counter missiles to be deployed.

One of the missiles dropped off the plot,
flaring briefly in the space a couple of light seconds ahead of the Cacas
before the plasma fell back into the normal Universe, leaving behind only the
photons of electromagnetic radiation to spread, some striking the Ca’cadasan
ships, with little effect.

Two of the missiles struck, one each to a scout
ship, with a combined closing speed of point seven one light.  Both scouts
ships, five hundred thousand ton vessels, blew apart under the combined kinetic
and antimatter energies.  A moment later the plasma was gone, translated back
into normal space.

Smirnov stood before the observation deck holo
for many minutes, waiting for more missiles to appear.  When they didn’t, he
breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at his wife and children. 
We’re
still alive, for now.  But what else are they going to send after us?

*    
*     *

SEVERIDE SYSTEM, SECTOR
IV.  DECEMBER 9
^TH
, 1001.

“Prepare to match velocities and be boarded,”
came the signal over the com.

Prestor Johnson looked at the com board as if
whoever had sent that signal would magically appear over it.  He linked with
the com and ordered the signal to appear on visual, and the person who had sent
the signal did appear over it, a youngish looking woman with the uniform of the
Fleet, a busy bridge behind her.

Just my luck
, he thought. 
Enigma
, his thirty
thousand ton personal yacht, had translated into the Severide system, home of a
developing world on the edge of Sector IV space, bordering on Sector III.  He
had thought he would outrun any mention of himself to this system, which, as
far as he knew, didn’t have a wormhole connection.  Or any reason to have one.

And here he was, facing a one hundred and
eighty thousand ton destroyer, actually within her beam weapon envelope.  While
it was an older vessel, the
Naginata
was definitely more than a match
for his luxury ship, as technologically advanced as it was.  And the holo
showed four other ships closing on his location, all smaller than the
destroyer.  All capable of blowing his ship out of space.

“Acknowledge,
Enigma
,” said the woman on
the holo, her transmission coming across three light seconds of space. 
“Acknowledge our transmission and your compliance, or we will open fire.  All
of our lasers and particle beams are locked on, and any attempt to jump into
hyper or subspace will result in the destruction of your vessel.”

Prestor removed his hand from the control panel
button he had just been about to push, the one that would have opened up the
subspace portal.  The destroyer would have picked up his graviton emissions
almost instantaneously.  It would have taken his ship almost five seconds to
open the portal into subspace or hyper, and he would have taken two seconds of
laser fire in that time period.

“I acknowledge,
Naginata
,” he said into
the com.  “I am ordering my ship to match velocities with you.”

“Don’t try anything,
Enigma
,” said the
Captain of the destroyer.  “As far as I can tell, you have done nothing to
warrant the death penalty, or a mind wipe.  And I would hate to have to execute
you for no reason.”