Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) (21 page)

Masozi took several, deep, breaths before focusing intently
on the view screen while Jericho adjusted the feeds. He quickly found the
rear-facing camera, and it showed the slightly irregular sphere of Hadden
Enterprise’s moon base. As she watched it shrink before their eyes, Masozi saw
a pair of vessels launch from a recess that looked like a natural crater before
speeding off toward the planet on a course similar to their own.

“A pity,” Jericho said neutrally, “H.E. One was the only
home I’ve known for the last twenty years.”

Masozi had nothing she could say to him on that matter, so
rather than sitting in awkward silence she took out the manual he had indicated
and began to read about the craft they found themselves in. Her eyes bulged
halfway through the first page and she blurted, “This is a high-pressure diving
vessel—it’s designed to conduct experiments inside Chambliss’ atmosphere!”

“I thought the egg shape would play into its purpose,”
Jericho remarked dryly, “but seriously, I know very little about these
things. I assume we don’t have much in
the way of propulsion?”

Masozi flipped through a few pages before finding that he
was largely correct. “It has attitude adjusters and enough breaking thrust to
keep it at a given depth for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours.” She
suppressed the urge to gulp as she added, “But on our current trajectory it
looks like we’re on a one-way trip into the atmosphere…there’s not enough power
in this thing’s engines to achieve a stable orbit even if we started now.”

“Which means that either this is Stephen’s idea of a really
good parting joke,” Jericho said with a shrug, “or someone’s waiting for us
between here and crush depth.”

“Status reports?”
Hadden asked
calmly as he entered the command center of H.E. One for the final time.

“The Virgin System Defense Fleet has engaged the HEV’s
Galileo
,
Copernicus
, and
Pythagoras
,” retired Rear Admiral Emil Berggren
reported crisply. “The incoming vessels have been harried but their allies are
continuing to close distance in an effort to cut off our remaining vessel’s
escape routes.”

“How many ships are awaiting liftoff?” Director Hadden asked
as he pulled up the primary control codes for H.E. One’s most critical
self-defense systems.

“Eight freighters and two courier ships, Director,” Berggren
replied promptly. “Estimated time to evacuate all remaining critical Hadden resources
is two hours forty minutes.”

“Too much time,” Hadden mused as he activated the primary
power plant controls. He initiated a system-wide increase in power output in
preparation for the battle. “Re-prioritize all technical and material assets to
evacuation plan Theta-Two; repeat, Theta-Two.”

“Yes, Director,” Admiral Berggren acknowledged before
issuing the appropriate orders through the chain of command.

“Bring all weapon systems online, Admiral,” Hadden
instructed as he released the safety protocols on H.E. One’s most secretive
defensive systems. They were likely less than the equal of the Imperial Navy,
which had not been seen in the Sector since the wormhole’s collapse, but they
would prove more than a match for the technological level of President Blanco’s
fleet.

Still, he had spoken truly to the wonderfully surprising
Masozi when he had said there was no hope for victory over the fleet arrayed
against him. His weapons had longer range than most of theirs, which meant that
they were committed to coming in hard and fast to minimize that edge while
exploiting H.E. One’s lack of mobility.

Once enough of H.E. One’s defensive systems had been
neutralized in a given area, it would be a simple enough matter for the fleet
to tear the rest apart from extreme firing angles which the ground-based
systems could not hope to match.

“Embedded defense systems are online, Director,” Admiral
Berggren reported crisply, his demeanor that of the consummate professional,
“all three hundred detached units are functional and awaiting your orders.”

“Very well,” Hadden replied, glad for the Admiral’s steady
presence. “You should join your crew aboard the
Isaac Newton
, Admiral.”

Berggren stood to attention, which was an endearing if
altogether unnecessary display in Hadden’s view. “H.E. One’s communication
systems are superior to those of the
Newton
, Director, and the base is
unlikely to be compromised before the battle is over. I can do more good coordinating
maneuvers in here than I can on the bridge of the
Newton
,” he said in a
wholly expected protest. “Captain Kotcher is more than capable of commanding
her during the battle.”

“As you wish, Admiral,” Hadden relented, having anticipated
as much from the man. Some officers would prefer to go down with their crews,
but Berggren had always been primarily focused on efficiency. “I will cede
control over the embedded resources to your authority so you might support our
warships to maximum effect.”

“Thank you, Director,” the other man replied before snapping
off an absolutely perfect salute and returning to his duties. It was a gesture
of respect which Hadden had not anticipated and it warmed what remained of his
shriveled, increasingly useless, heart.

President Blanco’s fleet continued to bear down on H.E. One,
and after little more than half an hour the detachment which had engaged
Hadden’s warships had destroyed the
Galileo
,
Copernicus
, and
Pythagoras
.

With the majority of their resources deployed near H.E. One,
it was down to waiting for the fleet to enter H.E. One’s zone of control.

No more than ten minutes before that happened Hadden’s chair
alerted him to an incoming communication. He had expected as much, and accepted
the incoming transmission.

A man with a dark-skinned, angular, bearded face appeared.
He was seated behind a desk which was surrounded with the various ornaments and
seals afforded the highest office in the Virgin System, and he leaned forward
in his chair with a smug look on his face.

Hadden’s own communication’s program presented a youthful,
vibrant, digital representation of himself from some hundred years earlier. It
was vanity, and he knew it, but he also knew it would weaken his corporation’s
image to project his real image—and that would place the people who depended on
him in grave danger.

“President Blanco,” Hadden said with false cordiality, “to
what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the act, Hadden,” Blanco said in his gravelly voice.
“I’ve got the support of the System Senate and all three of Virgin’s Fleet
Commanders. If you surrender now I’ll see to it that your people are relocated
to an isolated colony where they can live out their days.”

“You would deny them their freedom, Mr. President,” Hadden
retorted smoothly, “I cannot, in good conscience, consent to such a
violation—to say nothing of your offer’s illegality.”

“Illegality?”
Blanco repeated
incredulously. “The people of the Virgin System have elected me to protect
their interests and that is precisely what I intend to do. So stand down your
remaining forces, or in nine minutes my Fleet Commanders will be forced to
destroy that precious little rock of yours. You, and your corporation, have
existed outside the law for too long; it’s time you were held to the same
standard as everyone else. The people demand that this System be unified under
one set of laws which apply equally to all of its citizens. That is my mandate,
and I will not fail it.”

“I would debate you on these points, Mr. President,” Hadden
said coolly as the people of H.E. One continued to prepare for the coming
assault, “but each of my previous attempts to entreat with you on this matter
has been roundly ignored. Hadden Enterprises has done nothing to warrant this
violence and, on behalf of those you have already slaughtered in the name of
‘Unity,’ I must repudiate your overture. Those people who your vaunted Fleet
Commanders killed depended on me to protect them and, while I may have failed
in that regard, I will do my utmost to avenge their loss. That is
my
mandate, Mr. President, and unlike your pursuit of a false unity,” he lingered
on the word for a moment before finishing, “I
will
succeed in carrying
it out.”

President Blanco leaned back in his chair and shook his head
as though in dismay, “Then you leave me no choice but to suppress your open
rebellion against our most sacred laws. May the gods have mercy on your
souls.
”

The channel cut out and before Hadden could issue any
commands each of the one hundred men, women, and aliens manning their stations
within H.E. One stood—or similarly adjusted their posture to one of respect—and
applauded, whistled, or cheered in their own way for their Director’s
representation of their interests.

After the applause had begun to die down fractionally,
Hadden increased the speaker volume on his chair. “I am authorizing the
deployment of the
Albert Einstein
,
Isaac Newton
,
Stephen
Hawking
,
Max Born
and
Roger Penrose
,” he said, and the chorus
of cheers, hoots, and applause quickly died down. “Admiral Berggren, you may
fight your assets as you see fit.”

“Thank you, Director,” Berggren replied before snapping out
commands to his subordinates as the first of the VSDF fleet encroached into the
H.E. One’s zone of control.

The Virgin vessel—a battleship named
Congress
which
led a pair of destroyers and an aged cruiser in tight formation—opened fire as
soon as Hadden had done likewise with his ground-based weaponry. Eight of his
massive cannons lashed out defiantly and rammed home against the
Congress
,
causing its tactical icon to flicker briefly before once again solidifying.

Damage reports streamed into Hadden’s custom-built, virtual
reality interface and he prepared for another volley. His VR interface allowed
him near-total control of H.E. One’s defensive assets as though they were
merely pieces on a game board, and in a sense that was all they were. He would
need to modulate power plant output in a perfectly-coordinated dance of
destruction as he fueled his powerful defensive weaponry with every last joule
of energy his plants could produce.

He saw—or perhaps ‘saw’ is the wrong term, since his VR
interface allowed him to process most sensory input in a decidedly abstract
faction—the five remaining vessels of Admiral Berggren’s ‘fleet’ come into
formation and move to flank the approaching squadron. Everyone knew it was only
a matter of time before the VSDF fleet overcame their defenses, but the Hadden
Enterprises security branch took their jobs very seriously. They had planned
for every possible eventuality with the grim determination to take as many of
the enemy down as possible while allowing the rest of the corporation’s
employees the chance to flee.

So it was with little fanfare, or even acknowledgment from
the assembled officers within H.E. One’s Command Center, when the
Roger
Penrose
was struck by a perfectly-directed volley from a second formation
of VSDF vessels and its icon winked out of existence. Seventy three people had
bravely manned that vessel, and they had died without even firing a single shot
at the enemy. It was an insult to their memory and years of dedicated
service—an insult which Hadden fully intended to repay.

While he knew his sentiment was shared by the majority of those
around him, he also knew they would not allow that sentiment to interfere with
their duties. As soon as they were charged, he lashed out with another bank of
his longest-range weaponry and was rewarded when a pair of the enemy fleet’s
smaller vessels was annihilated just as rudely as had been the
Roger Penrose
.
But Hadden’s thirst for vengeance was nowhere near slaked.

He felt three of the ten weapons he had just fired wink out
as they were destroyed by incoming fire, the weapon systems of the enemy locking
onto them almost as soon as his firing them had revealed their location. Hadden
also felt three dozen of the concealed weapons embankments scattered throughout
the nearby rings unleash their pent-up fury on the approaching VSDF vessels,
and another pair of smaller, lighter vessels was destroyed in a wave of
high-powered plasma fire.

It had been wise of Blanco to send his fleet when he had.
With H.E. One at its orbital apex relative to Chambliss’ rings, approximately
twenty percent of the embedded weapons systems had been removed from the
tactical equation. Most of those weapons were high-powered, single-shot plasma
cannons and their relatively short range made them useless this far from the
icy rings of the gas giant.

It also cleared the widest approach angle for the VSDF
fleet, which meant they could more easily exploit whatever gaps in the
defensive grid were created by the destruction of Hadden’s moon-based
artillery.

Even Hadden had to appreciate the brutal simplicity of
Blanco’s thinking, but he was betting that same simplicity would play into his
hand later. Besides, while Hadden Enterprises had stockpiled the most
impressive supply of Imperial-grade technology, to have deployed it in this
battle would have been simply to throw it away in a lost cause. Those assets
would find their way onto the board soon enough, and ensuring they were
protected long enough to do so was now Hadden’s primary focus.

He felt a savage thrill as he saw that one of the
battleships—a vessel named the
Alexander Hamilton
—came perilously close
to the field of fire for one of his more creative weapons. Hadden diverted
significant power from the rest of the defense grid to his ‘secret weapon,’ and
even the lights of the command center dimmed as he prepared to unleash a
killing blow on the warship.