Galactic Empire Wars 2: Emergence (19 page)

Admiral Rivers
looked at the numerous green icons on the sensor screen with muted
satisfaction. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing all those ships were part of
his command. It would be the largest fleet ever to leave the Solar System. All
fifty-two warships of Fourth Fleet were represented as well as six supply
ships, two ammunition ships, and the massive marine transport ship, the Fire
Fox. The marine transport was heavily armed and held six hundred marines
trained in the Type Three battle suits. In addition, each of the Human built
assault ships held one platoon of twenty marines trained in the Type Two battle
suits. That gave him an effective fighting force of twelve hundred ground
troops.

“Quite
impressive,” Colonel Andler commented from where he was standing on Rivers'
right side. Andler had been in charge of the marines and regular army troops
deployed to Tent City outside Jornada. He had worked hard qualifying for the
Type Three battle suits and been given this command by General Mitchell.

“We’ll be
leaving in two more hours,” Rivers said as he turned to glance at the colonel. “We
may be gone for eighteen months; are your people ready for that length of
deployment?”

“We’re ready,”
Andler responded with a confirming nod. “All of my marines know what’s at
stake. If we succeed, it may just buy us the time we need to solidify our hold
on the Solar System and get our population built up to the point where we can
actually stand up to the Kleese head on.”

Rivers let out
a deep sigh. He was of American Indian descent and had spent much of his time
in the military. If the Human race was going to be able to actually fight a
successful war against the Kleese, they would have to commit to a wartime
economy for a long time to come. It meant that warship production and the
training of new military personnel would continue nonstop until the conflict
was determined one way or the other. The only thing the Human race had going
for it was that the Kleese home systems were so far away and they hadn’t really
been challenged militarily in hundreds of years.

“Over twenty
weeks to get to our destination,” Andler stated with a deep frown. “It’s going
to be a long and boring trip.” Even with the brisk and detailed training
schedule he and his subordinates had worked out, there was only so much you
could do on board a spaceship.

“I hope so,”
Rivers responded in a sincere voice. “If it’s boring, that means we haven’t
been detected by the Kleese. I can handle that type of boring.”

Rivers looked
up at another viewscreen on the front wall of the Command Center showing an
image of the two sections of the galaxy dominated by the Kleese and the Strell.
At one edge, where the two Empires nearly overlapped, were a series of worlds
recently taken over by one or the other of the two Galactic Empires. This
information came from the data taken from the Kleese communications center.
This was Fourth Fleet’s destination; they would try to stir up enough trouble
to cause the Kleese and the Strell to turn their attention upon each other,
perhaps even their war fleets.

-

Captain Mark
Stevens was in one of the troop assembly bays inside the troop transport, Fire
Fox. Next to him stood Captain Dylan Winfrey of the British Royal Marines and
several lieutenants. Winfrey had finally completed his training, reaching the
summit of the mountain on the fifth attempt. In front of them stood one hundred
and twenty marines in four precisely spaced lines. All stood at attention, eyes
forward.

“We leave in
two more hours,” Mark announced in a steady and commanding voice as his eyes
swept across the formation. “If you have any messages you want to send to
family members, now is the time to do it. Once we leave the Solar System, there
will be no further communications. As all of you know, it might be eighteen
months or more before we return.”

“If we
return,” a voice muttered from down in the ranks of assembled marines.

“I heard that,
Private Turner,” spoke Lieutenant Taylor, glaring at the young marine. “You
will stay quiet in the ranks!”

“I told you to
keep your mouth shut,” added Private Morris, in a very quiet and subdued voice.
She kept her face and eyes straight ahead, not wanting to be reprimanded. There
was no point starting this mission peeling potatoes. Turner never seemed to
know when to keep quiet.

“We’ll have
daily PT and mission training for what we may be facing when we arrive at our destination,”
Mark said as his eyes moved across the assembled marines, seeing determination
on most of their faces. “We have some videos furnished to us by the Kiveans of
Kleese conscripts in action on numerous worlds, including a few videos
involving some of the Human conscripts taken from Earth. I think you’ll find
the videos quite informative, though I must warn you there are parts of them
that are extremely gruesome.”

“There are six
hundred marines on this ship as well as a crew of over two hundred,” Captain
Winfrey added as his eyes raked over the British marines now a part of this
company. “While the ship may seem large and she is the largest vessel so far
built by our race, I can assure you that after a while the ship will begin to
feel quite small. We have a lot of training ahead of us to prepare for the
coming battles. Study the videos so you'll be familiar with what's likely
ahead. Mark my words, not all of us will be coming home.”

“Company,
dismissed!” uttered Mark. He wanted to give everyone plenty of time to send
messages home if they wanted to. Unfortunately, Captain Winfrey was correct;
some of these marines would not be returning to the Solar System.

Mark watched
the marines quickly exit the large troop assembly bay, which would also be used
for training. “They look like a spirited group.”

“They are,”
grinned Dylan. “Some of the marines in my unit have been with me for over six
years.”

“I guess it
was rough at the British survival camp,” Mark said, recalling his own miserable
days at Tent City next to Jornada. He knew the area now was buried in over four
feet of snow, ice, and ash.

“Same as what
you went through, I imagine,” Dylan replied in a somber voice. “We had
thousands of people coming in seeking refuge. Food was scarce and we never had
enough power. Over a thousand people froze to death. If General Mitchell hadn’t
returned when he did, we would've lost a majority of the people in the camp.”

Mark nodded,
recalling his daily tours of Tent City and how penetrating the cold had felt.
He was going to miss not having Lieutenant Griffith along. Fortunately, Mark
had taken two weeks' leave and spent the majority of that time on the Moon at Luna City visiting Sam and his family. It was remarkable to see how people were putting
their lives back together and planning for the future. Sam had even confided in
Mark that he and his wife were thinking about having another child. Mark
wondered if there would be a new arrival in Sam’s family by the time they got
back from this mission.

“We better
make the rounds,” suggested Dylan, knowing the time for departure was growing
close.

“Let’s go,”
replied Mark, turning and heading for the large hatch leading to the outside
corridor. He just hoped he had made the right decision volunteering for this
mission.

-

General
Mitchell, Fleet Admiral Kirby, and General Pittman were all in the large
Command Center of Centerpoint Station. The Command Pedestal had been modified
and now held several large control consoles at which four lieutenants sat
directing the activity of the other personnel in the room. Behind them were
three large command chairs with smaller consoles from which any information
being displayed in the Command Center could be called up. Normally only one
chair was filled, and that by the officer currently on duty.

“Almost time,”
breathed Michael, looking at the main viewscreen, which was focused on the five
hundred-meter battlecruiser Independence, Admiral Rivers’ flagship. Michael
could see the communication and sensor blisters on the hull of the ship as well
as numerous weapon turrets.

“That’s a
major portion of our fleet,” commented General Pittman, feeling uneasy about
sending so many ships away from the Solar System for such an extended period of
time. “I just hope they all return safely.”

“We still have
three fleets to protect us,” General Mitchell replied his eyes focused on the
viewscreen. There was a lot riding on this mission.

“Plus all the
assault ships based here at Centerpoint,” Michael reminded them. “After the
failure of the last Kleese attack, I don’t think we have anything to be
concerned about for a while. By the time the Kleese get back around to us, we
should have Fifth Fleet up and running.”

“If we can
find the crews,” General Pittman pointed out with a frustrated shake of his
head.

It was becoming
harder each day to find the qualified people they needed. If it continued, they
might be forced to establish a draft for the military. Pittman suspected with
all that had happened on Earth this would be very unpopular with the populace
at large. While the civilians wanted revenge against the Kleese, they'd been
through so much that asking them to join the military was going to be pushing
it.

“I spoke to
President Randle earlier today,” Michael said, still finding it strange to call
his brother-in-law president. “Cheryl has the first part of the recruitment
campaign for the new military academy on Vesta ready to go. She'll be launching
it next week.”

“Mayor Silas
is nearly done with the habitation dome for our general fleet training,”
Mitchell added, pleased with the progress they were making with the two new
facilities. Between the two of them, they should be able to properly train the
people needed if they could encourage enough to enlist in the military and take
the training.

“Have you ever
sat down and figured just how many people we need for the planned fleet?” asked
Michael, looking over questionably at the other two. “I did, and it’s nearly
forty-five thousand personnel to crew the six fleets we’re planning plus the
assault ships here at Centerpoint. That doesn’t include support personnel and
others that will be needed.”

“I’ve figured
it,” General Mitchell responded with a slight nod. “For our entire military,
including support personnel, it comes out to nearly three hundred thousand
people. That doesn’t include the civilians we’re currently using on
Centerpoint.”

“I figure our
current population of eighteen million gives us a pool of about two million
people of military age that are young enough to handle the stresses that will
be involved in our new military.”

“That’s about
fifteen percent of the two million,” said General Pittman, arching his
eyebrows. “Can we get that many to volunteer without going to a draft?”

“I don’t
know,” replied Mitchell, looking back at the main viewscreen. The Independence was beginning to move as well as the rest of the fleet. “Let's see how well
Cheryl does with her recruiting campaign before we consider a draft.”

Michael nodded
his head in agreement. Cheryl could be quite persuasive when she wanted to be.
If she had much input into this media campaign, it might indeed attract a
number of new volunteers for the two training facilities. All they could do was
wait and see; they just couldn’t wait too long.

-

Admiral Rivers
sat in his command chair waiting as the fleet accelerated away from Centerpoint
Station. He looked around as the Command Center buzzed with increased activity
as they prepared to jump into Fold Space.

“All systems
operating at peak efficiency,” reported Colonel Greerman, turning to face the
admiral. Greerman was the ship’s executive officer. “Ready to enter Fold Space
upon your command.”

Rivers nodded
and turned to glance toward the Helm, which was near the front of the Command Center. “Helm, stand by to take us into Fold Space. Communications, inform all
ships that Fold Space entry will be in one minute. Countdown will come from the
Independence. Colonel Greerman, the ship is yours; let’s begin our mission.”

Greerman
smiled and strolled quickly over to stand just behind the young officer sitting
at the helm controls. “At my mark, turn the key,” he ordered.

Rivers waited
patiently as he thought over the parameters of their mission. To start a war or
military skirmish between the Kleese and the Strell was going to be a tall
order. He still wasn’t quite certain how they were going to accomplish that. He
had twenty weeks to come up with a plan.

“Ten seconds,”
Colonel Greerman spoke in a loud and calm voice.

“Mark!”

The Independence suddenly accelerated rapidly and made the jump into Fold Space. In just a few
moments, they were traveling faster than the speed of light with their speed
steadily increasing. For this mission, the fleet would travel at a cruising
speed of five light years per hour. Even the cargo and ammunition ships had
been equipped with newest military drives to ensure they could keep up. Every
one thousand light years or less if needed, the fleet would drop out of Fold
Space and perform maintenance on the Fold Space Drives as well as other
essential systems. No one was quite certain how the fleet’s systems would hold
out on such a long journey.

-

In
Centerpoint, the three commanding officers watched the ships vanish from the
viewscreens. On the main sensor screen, the ships could still be seen, but they
were now moving rapidly away.

“Operation
Insurrection has now begun,” General Mitchell announced in a calm and steady
voice.

“Let’s hope it
succeeds,” Michael added as he watched nearly a fourth of the fleet under his
command speeding away.

“Rivers is a
military genius,” stated General Pittman, folding his arms across his chest.
“If anyone can pull this off, it’s him. Now let’s just hope and pray that the
Kleese leave us alone until Fourth Fleet returns.”