Eyes of Tomorrow (Duchy of Terra Book 9) Glynn Stewart (100 books to read .txt) 📖

“Currently, I have a swarm of ten cruisers in hyperspace creating a sensor screen,” the Laian officer told them. “They are spreading out as we speak. The plan is for them to drop into regular space and send their detection reports by hyperfold, allowing the main fleet to enter hyperspace and intercept any breakout attempt.

“As I receive more units from the main fleets, that sensor swarm will expand and we may even split our fleet into nodal forces,” Korodaun continued. “Interception is possible and we will do all we can to maintain containment.

“You have sensor data to identify the portal bioforms?”

“We do,” Morgan said. “But the next wave of portal ships will likely be using a purely Infinite biotech portal emitter. They will not match the signature.”

“No, of course not,” Korodaun agreed with a wave of her pincer. “But it will give us a starting point. Your methodology of trapping them in hyperspace will be useful, I think. I will inform my subordinates to begin refreshing their crews’ training in hyperspace combat.

“We have sufficient weapons to challenge them there, but we must prepare for them to update their missiles and missile tactics, as you say,” she concluded. “Containment will be maintained.”

Morgan appreciated both the Pincer’s determination and her apparent willingness to listen to the Arm Power officers.

“Our biggest vulnerability is their straight-line speed,” Morgan told the Laian officer. “Their acceleration is lower than ours, but they can get up to velocities where even our missiles can’t catch them.”

“That will probably be the hardest part to make sure our people account for,” Korodaun replied, glancing at the other Laian officers in the room. None of them had been introduced—or had even said a word once Tan!Stalla was seated.

“We are all accustomed to operating in an environment where the rules of maneuver are fully illuminated,” she continued. “No power in the galaxy has used anything except the interface drive in millennia.

“Yet the system used by these Infinite, as you say, has its own advantages over the interface drive. We must adapt. If we do not adapt, the Republic is in danger. As is your Imperium.”

“That is the largest danger of the Infinite, I fear,” Tan!Stalla said. “We do not understand them. We do not know their technology. We do not know their minds. They fired upon Defiance without warning, their only communication to demand that Captain Casimir turn over her hyperdrive.

“They do not fight as we expect, and they may not even plan or act as we expect,” the Squadron Lord continued grimly. “And we do not truly know how long we have before they have adapted to all of our technology.

“They have access, after all, to one of your mobile shipyards—plus whatever was left of a mixed Laian-Wendira fleet. We cannot afford to underestimate them.”

“They fought Those Who Came Before,” Korodaun said calmly. “If they challenged gods, Squadron Lord, we who remain must prepare as if we must battle gods.

“So we will. And while I do not assume we can be victorious where Those Who Came Before failed, I do believe that we can keep the Infinite contained. A few more cycles and we will have thirty war-dreadnoughts to bar their way.

“Twenty cycles, thirty? We will have a hundred war-dreadnoughts. Plus, I hope, more ships from your fleet and assistance from our old enemies. We can contain these creatures—and then, I hope, find a way to deal with them.”

Chapter Thirteen

It was a small adjustment of positions, in the grand scheme of things. The A!Tol superbattleships moved less than a million kilometers, shuttling away from the Astoroko Nebula at minimum power, their battleships and cruisers and destroyers falling in around them.

Replacing them, ten war-dreadnoughts of the Laian Republic moved up, accompanied by forty attack cruisers. The dance had been carefully choreographed—not because the careful planning was truly needed but because they had the time and it reduced risk.

When it was over, there was no question which of the two fleets would face the Infinite first. Two billion tons of Republic capital ships waited in the void, a thin line of metal and flesh against the monsters hiding in the dark.

There was an audible sigh of relief on Jean Villeneuve’s flag deck, the sensation of thirty sentients from five species releasing their tension. Morgan hadn’t even realized how much strain was wrapped into the air of that room until it was released.

“Pincer Korodaun assumes operational command,” Tan!Stalla said loudly and firmly. “Note it for the record, Prott.”

“This mess is their problem now,” the Ivida agreed cheerfully. “We just have to help.”

“Just,” Ashmore muttered, barely loud enough for Morgan to hear him from barely a meter away.

“We have time now, people,” Tan!Stalla told them all. “Stand the fleet down to the lowest alert. Get what rest you all can. In a cycle, we’ll bring the fleet back to ready status and begin exercises based on the data Staff Captain Casimir and her team have assembled.

“We expect significant Laian reinforcements before the Infinite are able to move again,” the Squadron Lord reminded them. “Nonetheless, we will remain here until relieved by the Grand Fleet. We have our own responsibilities to follow.

“Now stand down,” she ordered. “Prott has already called the third watch up to take your stations. Rest, people.”

Rest did not necessarily mean sleep. If nothing else, Morgan was going to have to prep the exercises everyone else would be going through in less than twenty-four hours.

Still, she made sure to take a break, retreating to her quarters and pouring herself a glass of wine. She carefully closed her work messages for the moment—she’d look at those on the other side of the wine and eight hours of sleep—but a new-message icon popped up.

The digital file had come a long way. First, it had been sent up to the starcom station in Earth orbit. Then, it had been transmitted to a “transfer station” for messages near the A!Tol-Laian border, where it had been moved from an Imperial starcom