The Barbarian Bride (The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The Emperor has gone mad,” he said, bluntly. He had never been a diplomat. “He was prepared to fire on your homeworld.”

  “I know,” Chang Li said. Her voice was oddly accented, something that surprised him. “I thank you for saving my people.”

  “At the cost of putting my people into terrible danger,” Roman said. He had no illusions about their chances of success. Even if the Emperor didn’t take and hold Boston, forcing him into a direct offensive though the system’s Asimov Points, they’d have problems battering their way to Earth before the Federation’s superior industry took effect. “The Emperor has to be stopped.”

  “We agree,” Chang Li said. She cocked her head, perhaps in recognition of his concerns. “I am prepared to offer your fleet all the support we can provide.”

  “That would be useful,” Roman said. “But what can you provide?”

  “Relatively little,” General Stuart said. His voice was gruff. “We lost too many ships at Boston, Admiral. I believe that was your work.”

  Roman nodded, curtly. He wasn’t about to apologize for winning a battle, even though the consequences had come back to haunt him. He’d baited a trap and the Outsiders had fallen into it, giving him an excellent chance to tear their fleet apart. And he’d weakened them so badly that the counterattack hadn’t met any serious challenge until it had crossed the stardrive limits and attacked Nova Athena itself.

  “There’s no point in dredging up the past,” Chang Li said. “We must look to the future.”

  “Of course,” Roman said. “What can you offer us?”

  “Right now, four battle squadrons and a few hundred smaller ships,” General Stuart told him, shortly. “Our fleet train, thankfully, remains largely intact.”

  “Assuming the crews don’t desert when they realize just what they’re facing,” Chang Li added.

  “The Federation is unlikely to show any mercy to independent freighters supporting the Outsiders,” Roman pointed out. “Tell them that all will be forgiven if they help us win.”

  He sighed, inwardly. In hindsight, the Grand Senate’s policies — their semi-legal monopoly over interstellar shipping within the core worlds — had driven hundreds of thousands of independent shippers out to the Rim. They’d signed up with the Outsiders and started hauling supplies for them, while the Federation Navy was forced to depend on a badly weakened fleet train. The Grand Senate had chosen to concentrate on building warships, rather than the logistics the navy needed to support them. But then, until recently, the Federation Navy had been able to depend on a network of bases throughout explored and settled space.

  “And what will happen,” General Stuart asked warily, “if we do win?”

  Roman understood, just for a second, the maddening problem facing Emperor Marius. The Federation’s problems were impossibly vast, far too great for a single man to fix. And yet, tearing the Federation apart would be just as bad. Humanity hadn’t survived a number of alien threats by being disunited.

  And, come to think of it, he thought, what do we do about their alien allies?

  He cursed under his breath. Humanity had long since abandoned the curse of racism, at least against their fellow humans, but it was a rare human who would agree that aliens should have equal rights. The memories of the First Interstellar War ran deep, even though it had been almost two thousand years ago. Aliens weren’t welcome on human worlds; hell, they were rarely welcome on their own homeworlds. And the Outsiders had managed to drum up at least two alien races that were willing to fight alongside them against the Federation. It would be easy for Emperor Marius to turn the war into a crusade against aliens and their human dupes...

  Of course he can, he thought, grimly. The process was already underway by the time we won the Battle of Boston.

  “I think we should settle that after the fighting is over,” he said, flatly. He didn’t want to rule, but was there any choice? Sundering the Federation would be disastrous. “The Emperor still has a great many advantages. We may wind up merely prolonging the war.”

  “Agreed,” Chang Li said. She shot her comrade an unreadable look. “We can determine how the future will look once we know we will have a future.”

  Roman nodded in agreement, then leaned forward. “How quickly can you get your ships here?”

  General Stuart looked uncomfortable, sweat prickling on his forehead as his eyes darted around the compartment. It couldn’t be easy, Roman knew, discussing classified information with someone who’d been on the other side until literally two hours ago. Hell, he didn’t find it easy. He just knew there was no choice; his crews would die unless they won the war and saved themselves. It crossed his mind, as he waited for Stuart to answer, that Admiral Drake had faced the same problem after the Grand Senate had tried to kill him.

  And they did kill his closest friend, he thought. Emperor Marius had never been quite the same afterwards. Did losing Tobias push him off the deep end?

  “We should be able to assemble most of the remaining ships within a month, perhaps less,” Stuart said, carefully. “But that will open up some of the systems we hold to counterattacks.”

  “There’s less danger of that than you might think,” Roman assured him. “We massed most of the Federation ships in the sector at Boston for the counteroffensive.”

  “Unless the Emperor sends out new orders on the way home,” Stuart pointed out.

  Roman shrugged. There were hundreds of stage-one colony worlds along the Rim, dozens of which had changed hands several times since the war began. None of them were useful, save perhaps as a source of untrained manpower; there was little to be gained by wasting time and effort capturing them for the umpteenth time. The Asimov Points, on the other hand, would be useful, but the Emperor didn’t have the mobile forces — yet — to secure them.

  He expended too many of the stockpiled fortresses to secure the routes to the core, he thought, darkly. It would be a headache he’d have to deal with, if he lived that long, but for the moment it was a blessing. We were planning to secure the other Asimov Points as we consolidated, after winning at Nova Athena.

  “It shouldn’t matter,” he said, out loud. “The key to victory has been what it always has, ever since the First Interstellar War. The capture or destruction of the enemy’s productive capabilities.”

  He looked straight at Chang Li. “How much can you produce, and how quickly?”

  “Our missiles and ships are better, ton for ton, than their Federation counterparts,” Chang Li assured him. Roman nodded, impatiently. He’d been on the receiving end of Outsider technical ingenuity more than once. “However, we simply cannot match the Federation’s sheer weight of production. I’ll give you the complete figures, if you wish, but... well, we can only produce a tenth of the missiles they can produce in the same time period, even though our facilities are more efficient.”

  “Assuming that their production nodes don’t suffer from more disruptions,” Stuart offered, ruefully. “There were a lot of strikes over the last two years.”

  “Which were broken,” Chang Li reminded him.

  “Even so, the workers weren’t exactly enthusiastic about the whole affair,” Stuart said. “I suspect their production has been quietly nose-diving for months.”

  “They’ll do whatever it takes to get it back up again,” Roman said, quietly. “We need to move fast.”

  He keyed a switch, displaying a starchart. “I’m going to take Fifth Fleet back to Spinner,” he added, after a moment. “If the Emperor has secured Boston, retaking the system will be an incredibly costly battle. I don’t dare give him the time to dig in.”

  “Understood,” Stuart said.

  “You two can return to the planet, then organize your ships to meet us at Spinner,” Roman said. “Assuming we can retake Boston, we can push onwards to Earth as quickly as possible, before the Emperor has a chance to rally his defenses.”

  Chang Li blinked. “You intend to take the offensive so quickly?”

  “There�
�s no choice,” Roman said. Stuart nodded in agreement. “If we don’t take the offensive now, he’ll take advantage of his production capabilities and crush us like bugs.”

  Chapter Two

  This tended to ensure that officers stayed with their patrons, even when their patrons threw themselves into rebellion against their superiors — or the Federation itself.

  —The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Von Doom System, 4101

  Betrayed.

  He’d been betrayed.

  Marius Drake, Emperor of the Federation, Chief Naval Officer of the Federation Navy, sat in his darkened cabin, brooding. He’d been betrayed. Roman Garibaldi, his protégé, the young man whose career he’d mentored until Garibaldi had finally reached flag rank, had betrayed him. And, in doing so, had saved the Outsiders from defeat. The chance to burn them out of existence, once and for all, had been lost. Garibaldi had ensured that the war would go on and on...

  I thought I could trust him, Drake thought. He’d believed in the younger man’s loyalty to the Federation and Marius personally. God knew Garibaldi had been a mere cadet, if one of considerable promise, before the Justinian War had begun. Lacking connections, he should have put the Federation before political concerns. But instead he’d betrayed the Federation to its enemies. I thought I could trust him!

  Raw, bitter anger welled up within Marius’s heart. The Federation’s unity was sacrosanct; human unity was all that stood between the human race and the hundreds of alien threats lurking beyond the Rim. He could not — he would not — tolerate any thought of sundering the Federation, of granting the Outsiders the independence they sought. It would only weaken humanity against the true threats. And indeed, had the Outsiders not made common cause with two alien races? In doing so, they had sold out the rest of the human race. They were beyond redemption!

  They have to die, he thought, too tired to sit upright, let alone stand. It was hard, so hard, to muster the energy not to fall back into the darkness. He knew he should eat, get some proper sleep, but his thoughts were too agitated to allow himself to rise. They have to be destroyed before they destroy us.

  He cursed under his breath, wrapped in a mixture of hatred and self-loathing. What had he been thinking when he’d made himself Emperor? Surely, he could have done something — anything — else, something that would have spared him the task of grappling with the falling Federation, of trying to save something from the ruins. But it wasn’t in his nature to abandon a task, once started; he knew he had no choice but to keep fighting. The Outsiders had been badly weakened, after all. Even the addition of Fifth Fleet to their forces wouldn’t save them in the long run.

  Unless they have more allies out there, he thought. And unless Roman manages to pull off a miracle.

  Drake shuddered in anger. Roman Garibaldi had a talent, a positive talent, for finding ways to get into and out of trouble. No doubt his talent would continue to work, even as he switched sides... had he wanted to be Emperor himself? Or had he been a covert Outsider sympathizer all along? He’d certainly raised doubts about taking the POWs back to Earth for interrogation, then public execution. Had he been working for the Outsiders even then?

  It didn’t feel right, somehow, but it felt like hours before he reasoned it out. Roman couldn’t have been working for the Outsiders, not before the Battle of Boston. A talented admiral — and Marius knew Roman to be a talented admiral — would not have found it hard to lose the battle, perhaps even by surrendering remarkably easily. No, Roman wasn’t driven by love for the Outsiders, but a desire for power himself. No doubt he was already convincing the Outsiders to support him in his own bid for the throne.

  The nasty part of Marius’s mind contemplated that thought with no little amusement. Marius had thought himself used to command — he’d been commanding starships and fleets for decades — but being Emperor had been very different. The Grand Senate had left the Federation in a terrible mess and, no matter what he tried, the economy continued to collapse. Perhaps, if he’d had time, he could have saved the Federation, but the Outsider War had put a stop to that. The irony was almost amusing. He’d taken power at least in part to stop the Grand Senate from destroying the rest of the Federation, only to have no choice but to use the same policies himself.

  That was why I wanted to end it, he thought, grimly. Destroying Nova Athena and its population would have ended the war. Too many lives had already been lost, sacrifices to the greater good. A victory now would give us a chance to breathe.

  He looked up, sharply, as a low chime rang through the cabin. Someone was on the other side of the hatch, someone he didn’t know... the marines wouldn’t let someone hostile into the cabin, would they? He thought not; he trusted the marines, but then he’d trusted Roman Garibaldi too. Tobias, his former Marine CO and closest friend, was dead... who knew which way the marines would jump, when push came to shove? They’d already balked at some of the grisly tasks necessary to get the economy back up and running, including a moderate purge of trouble-makers...

  The hatch hissed open. Marius winced, a second later, as the lights brightened. If someone on the ship had decided to switch sides... he relaxed, very slightly, as Commander Ginny Lewis came into view. She already knew there was something wrong with him and hadn’t betrayed him, unlike so many others. But how long would that last?

  “Emperor?”

  Marius almost smiled at the alarm in her voice. The young redhead had shown rare promise — almost as much as the young Garibaldi — but it wouldn’t save her if she were blamed for his condition. Captain Watson wouldn’t hesitate to turn her into a scapegoat, although it wouldn’t save his hide either. God alone knew what would happen to the Federation once Marius was gone. It wasn’t as if there was a clear successor waiting in the wings. Marius had no children, and his wife, for all of her many talents, lacked the military skills to keep the fleet loyal to her. And the civilian government had been crippled decades before Marius’s birth.

  “I’m alive,” Marius croaked. He forced himself to sit upright. If Ginny intended to kill him, he could at least meet it with some dignity. “Commander — status report?”

  “You need to eat and drink something, if you won’t let me call the medics,” Ginny said, carefully. “Emperor... sir...”

  “Not now,” Marius said, stiffly. He didn’t like anyone seeing him so weak; hell, he hated the thought of taking Ginny into his confidence. But there was no choice. “Status report?”

  “We’ve just entered the Von Doom system,” Ginny said. “Captain Watson was wondering how you wished to enter Boston.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Marius muttered.

  He cursed under his breath. Captain Watson was a solid man, but completely lacking in imagination or initiative. Even in the midst of a war, with deadwood admirals and captains being killed at an unprecedented rate, his rise had been suspiciously slow. But then, he did need authorization in triplicate to go to the head, let alone take command of his superdreadnaught and set course for the nearest star. And to think he’d thought that a lack of imagination was an asset!

  “Tell me,” he said. It was hard to think clearly, but he had no choice. “Have we detected any courier drones racing past us?”

  “No, sir,” Ginny said. “Fifth Fleet hasn’t attempted to communicate with Boston.”

  “Unless they sent the drones the other way,” Marius commented. There were two possible routes to Boston, after all, and Roman Garibaldi would have no trouble deducing which one Marius had taken. “And we have no way of knowing what we’ll encounter at Boston.”

  He closed his eyes as a stab of pain burned through his head. Boston had been the linchpin of the Federation’s defenses in the sector. Fifth Fleet had been based there for much of the war and, by straining the already-tottering logistics network to the limits, the navy had built up a powerful network of fixed fortifications. If his fleet had to punch their way into the system, it was going to cost them dearly. They’d expended most of their
assault missiles during the flight to Nova Athena.

  And if Roman Garibaldi planned to betray me all along, he thought, whoever he left in command is likely to be ready and waiting for us.

  There was no choice, of course. If he wanted to get back to Earth in less than five years, he had to use the Asimov Point network. And if he wanted to do that, he had to enter Boston and hope...

  “Inform Captain Watson that we are to enter the system as normal, announcing a victory over the Outsiders,” he said. It was time to gamble. If the system’s defenders had no idea what had happened at Nova Athena, they’d hesitate to open fire on his ships. “I do not believe we will be fired upon. Once we’re in the system, head directly for the next Asimov Point.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ginny said. “And the system itself?”

  Marius took a moment to think. Boston had to remain in friendly hands, if it were at all possible, but he knew he didn’t have the firepower to impose his will on the system. If the local CO — who would be a Garibaldi loyalist, he was sure — put up a fight, all hell was likely to break loose. He dared not die, not now. The Federation he loved would not survive his death.

  “Once we enter the system, detach Commodore Palin with orders to take command of the system’s defenses,” he said, carefully. Commodore Hassan Palin had a working brain, which put him ahead of Captain Watson; he should be smart enough to understand the dangers of trying to switch sides now the battle lines had been redrawn. “He is to send messages through the ICN... no, belay that. I’ll write the messages myself.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ginny said. “There are gaps in the ICN, though.”

  Marius nodded, impatiently. The Outsiders, damn them to hell, had targeted ICN platforms specifically, making it harder for the Federation to coordinate defensive operations on a galactic scale. They had the same problem, of course, but they’d been on the offensive and their homeworlds were largely unknown. The Federation could capture every world that had willingly joined the Outsiders, once the war had begun, and yet get no closer to final victory.