And it might just work, she thought. She cast her mind about for anything she could do, but there was nothing. Even if the Emperor were to suffer another attack of... whatever, his second would take over the battle. The rebels will certainly be a great deal more careful about accepting more turncoats.
The steady stream of smaller ships was replaced, suddenly, by yet another set of superdreadnaughts. Ginny closed her eyes for a long second, then opened them to see two more battle squadrons making their way to join the enemy fleet. A handful of carriers accompanied them, already launching starfighters to prowl the surrounding region of space for potential traps. It was unlikely that they’d pick up the jaws of the trap before they slammed closed. And even if they did, they’d be pushed into a close engagement with the fortresses while the two loyalist formations closed on the point.
It will be the sort of battle that never occurs outside simulations, she thought. Her tutors had told her, more than once, that real-life engagements tended to be messy. The one where the enemy manages to trap himself.
“I think that’s the last of them, sir,” she said, as the stream of red icons finally came to a halt. “They’re launching probes...”
“They shouldn’t be able to see us,” the Emperor grunted. He smiled as she looked up at him, sitting in his chair and admiring the display. His expression boded ill for any rebels unlucky enough to be taken alive. “Inform Admiral Vincent that he may send the welcoming signal.”
“Aye, sir,” Ginny said.
She had no real love for Admiral Vincent — the man gloried in his appetites, waddling around like a beached whale — but she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy. His children were hostages, after all; Ginny had no doubt the Emperor would have them killed if their father refused to cooperate. Treacherous asshole Admiral Vincent might well be — she suspected he would have turned on the rebels too, if it had proven expedient — but no one deserved to watch helplessly as his children were turned into pawns.
But they would already have been their father’s pawns, Ginny thought. She liked and respected Lady Tiffany, yet her life had been that of a pawn. It must sting to realize that she’d sided with her husband over her family, only to have her husband turn into a madman. Ginny had enjoyed more freedom than she, even as a junior officer or cadet. This time, they’re someone else’s pawns.
She shook her head as she studied the display. “They’re shaking down into a standard formation,” she reported. “It doesn’t look as though they’re planning to fight.”
“They’ll have been drilled into switching into an offensive or defensive posture if necessary,” the Emperor said. He sounded oddly wistful. “Roman Garibaldi, whatever his faults, is a firm believer in regular drills. I taught him that.”
Ginny felt an unexpected stab of sympathy. In so many ways, Marius Drake had been good for the Federation Navy... and not just because he’d had Admiral Stevenson summarily shot for abusing his subordinates. Getting rid of the remaining deadwood, of officers who had been promoted because of their connections rather than their ability... if he’d had more time to make reforms, the entire navy might have been saved.
But instead, the Outsiders had struck and the Emperor had started to go mad. He had to be removed.
“Yes sir,” she said, instead. She swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in her throat. “Time to engagement point, thirty-seven minutes at current speed.”
“Bring the fleet to battlestations in twenty minutes,” the Emperor ordered. “And inform Admiral Stockholm that he may start moving his ships into position.”
“Aye, sir,” Ginny said.
She couldn’t help feeling impressed. Timing was everything, particularly when the rebels needed to be caught in a position that forced them to choose between doubling back or making a run for the system limits. And there were so many things that could go wrong. If the rebels saw the looming trap before the jaws snapped shut...
They’d still find it hard to avoid engagement, she thought, grimly. The starfighters would catch them if they tried to run.
“And keep a weapons lock on Admiral Vincent,” the Emperor added. “We don’t want him having a sudden change of heart.”
* * *
Roman couldn’t help feeling nervous as Valiant slipped past the brooding fortresses and made her way into the system. There was something oddly unnatural about not clearing the way first, about merely being allowed to move through the defenses without being molested. He’d flown past dozens of fortresses, of course, when they’d been on the same side, but these fortresses were nominally held by the enemy. And yet, it looked as though Admiral Vincent had kept his promise. The fortresses were almost completely powered down.
“System scan,” he ordered. “What do you see?”
“The system’s in lockdown, I think,” Lieutenant Thompson reported. “There’s a small fleet gathered at the pre-planned location, sir, but otherwise the system is unnaturally quiet. Even the asteroid miners appear to have been told to go dark.”
Roman nodded, curtly. Tara Prime had been industrialized for centuries, ever since the Inheritance War had opened up a whole new region of space for exploration. And the settlers, being based in a system with no less than five Asimov Points, had escaped the worst of the abuse that had made so many systems along the Rim throw their lot in with the Outsiders. Admiral Vincent, it seemed, had done a remarkable job of building up the system’s industry, although it had yet to match Admiral Justinian’s work.
Or the Outsiders, for that matter, Roman thought. But then, Admiral Vincent had good reason to worry about attracting attention.
“Keep us on course towards the RV point,” he ordered. Lieutenant Thompson was right. It was unnaturally quiet. But then, a single message escaping the system would alert the Emperor before the joint fleet reached Howarth, let alone AlphaCent. “And continue to deploy recon platforms and drones.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
Roman settled back into his command chair, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut. It looked as though the plan was working perfectly. Too perfectly. And that bothered him... although, for all he knew, there were riots underway on Tara Prime. Or perhaps not; the locals shouldn’t have the slightest idea of what was going on outside their atmosphere, at least until Admiral Vincent made some kind of announcement. Absently, Roman wondered what the locals would think when their admiral told them he was now their king. If they knew what had almost happened to Nova Athena...
They’d worry about getting scorched themselves, he thought. Marius Drake had broken the taboo against indiscriminate planetary strikes, at least against human targets. It wasn’t that hard to imagine him doing the same to Tara Prime. Or merely losing contact with the industrial base near the Core Worlds.
“Picking up a compressed signal,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
“Put it on the display,” Roman ordered.
He leaned forward as Admiral Vincent’s face appeared in front of him. “Admiral Garibaldi, welcome to Tara Prime,” Admiral Vincent said. “I suggest we proceed jointly to the Macaque Point and secure it, then meet for dinner and future discussions.”
Roman frowned. It sounded reasonable enough, yet something was nagging at the back of his mind. Something important, something he’d missed...
Hannalore said he’d announce the system’s change in loyalties once the fleet arrived, he thought, as it dawned on him. And yet he hasn’t done anything of the sort...
“Launch another spread of recon probes,” he ordered. “And record a message.”
“Recording,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
“Admiral Vincent, thank you for your welcome,” Roman said. “I look forward to hearing your message to your people.”
He keyed his console. “Send it.”
“Sent,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
* * *
No battle plan, at least in Marius’s experience, had ever survived even the slightest contact with the enemy. War was a
democracy, after all, and the enemy got a vote. But even so, he was pleasantly surprised by just how well the plan had gone. He would have made certain to have Admiral Vincent helpless before committing himself to entering the system.
Politics, he thought, as a new message blinked up on the display. Roman cannot afford to bully someone he desperately needs.
“Sir,” Ginny said. “There is a new message from Admiral Garibaldi, addressed to Admiral Vincent.”
“Play it,” Marius ordered.
He smiled, coldly, as he listened to the message. He’d specifically ordered Admiral Vincent not to broadcast anything to the population, if only to keep them quiet while their fate was decided in combat. But, naturally, the admiral’s reluctance to inform his people of the change in management had aroused Garibaldi’s suspicions. Marius would have been annoyed, and frustrated, if he hadn’t anticipated something more spectacular going wrong.
“No response,” he ordered. “Time to engagement point?”
“Seven minutes to optimal engagement range,” Ginny said. “Admiral Stockholm is advancing forward now.”
Marius allowed his smile to grow wider. Garibaldi was suspicious, but was he suspicious enough to try to break out of the trap? Marius had a healthy respect for his young protégé — Garibaldi would act decisively, if confronted by a real threat — yet he’d be torn between taking steps to save his command and overreacting to a non-existent danger. Doubt and indecision would work their will on his mind.
Which way would he jump? Or would he hesitate long enough for the jaws to spring closed?
“Inform the fleet,” he ordered. “Prepare to launch starfighters and engage the enemy.”
* * *
“There was no response?”
“None, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “If he’d replied at once, it would have reached us two minutes ago.”
Roman bit his lip, thinking hard. Admiral Vincent might have a perfectly good reason not to announce his kingship before the two fleets united. For all he knew, there were enough spies and informers on the planet and its defenses to make issuing any such claim a dangerous move. And yet, it looked very much as though something wasn’t quite right...
... But all he had to go on were his instincts. There was nothing he could point to, nothing he could say justified an immediate retreat. It was hard to know what to do.
“Admiral,” Lieutenant Thompson reported. “One of the recon platforms is picking up turbulence. Computer analysis says it’s a cloaking system.”
Roman swore. “Where?”
“Behind us, past the Asimov Point,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “But moving towards our rear.”
“Shit,” Roman said, as new icons appeared on the display. “Can you get an ID?”
His blood seemed to turn to ice. There was no legitimate reason for Admiral Vincent’s ships to be sneaking around behind him, particularly when everyone was feeling jumpy. And besides, Admiral Vincent’s ships were in front of him. It was hard to be sure at such range, but the Outsider-made sensors insisted those ships were real. And that meant that the ships behind him had come from somewhere else. Home Fleet?
“No, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “But judging by the displacement, there’s at least one battle squadron out there.”
“Bring active sensors to full power,” Roman ordered. If there were ships moving up behind him, under cloak, it was a trap. And he’d walked right into it. “Order the fleet to prepare to engage.”
* * *
“Sir,” Ginny said. “The enemy fleet has started to bring its active sensors online!”
“Noted,” Marius said. Roman hadn’t quite fallen into the trap, but he’d come far too close to escape. And there was no point in trying to hide any longer. “Drop the cloaks, then launch starfighters and commence firing!”
“Aye, sir,” Ginny said. She keyed a switch, triggering the firing pattern she’d programmed when the rebels had made their appearance. “Firing... now!”
* * *
“New contacts,” Lieutenant Thompson snapped. “Two enemy forces...”
Roman gritted his teeth as yet more red icons popped into existence. Six superdreadnaught squadrons in front of him, four more to the rear... backed up by at least ten fleet carriers and hundreds of smaller ships. And they had him neatly pinned. If he continued the advance, Force Two would take him in the rear while he tried to overwhelm Force One; if he reversed course, Force Two would hold him while Force One caught up with the fleet. Either way, he’d be crushed. The only realistic option was to head for the system limits, but the enemy would overwhelm him with starfighters, gunboats and long-range missile fire. Unless...
“Reverse course,” he ordered. At least he had a contingency plan. It wasn’t much, not against what he was facing, but it might just give them a chance to escape. “Take us back to the Asimov Point!”
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. She paused. “Sir, the fortresses are coming online!”
“I see,” Roman said. That explained why Force Two was weaker than Force One. Admiral Vincent — and the Emperor, given that Home Fleet was the only formation that could have sent so many superdreadnaughts to the system — had to have counted on the fleet being supported by the fortresses. “They’re slamming the door closed behind us.”
He took a breath. “Launch starfighters,” he ordered, as the display sparkled with deadly icons. Thankfully, the Outsider pilots had long since overcome the inexperience that had dogged them in the early battles. “Lock long-range missiles on Force One, then commence firing!”
Chapter Thirty
Of all wars, civil wars are the worst. They turn brother against brother, fathers against sons, wives against husbands... everyone needs to make a choice about where their duty truly lies when civil war breaks out. Friends can become enemies, enemies can become friends; nothing is ever truly what it seems. And, for some of them, the decisions they take can result in tragedy.
—The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199
Tara Prime, 4102
“Now hear this,” the loudspeaker boomed. “Red alert; I say again, red alert. All hands to battlestations.”
Tiffany braced herself, sweat pouring down her back. She’d been in combat before, technically, but she’d never been anything more than a helpless bystander. If her ship had been destroyed — and Marius had been at some pains to point out that there was no guarantee that her ship wouldn’t be targeted — she would have died, alone and unremarked. All she’d been able to do was stay in her cabin, in one of the better-protected parts of the ship, and pray they survived. But now...
She glanced down at the weapon in her hand. Oslo had taught her how to shoot when she’d been young, claiming it was a useful skill for a girl. Tiffany couldn’t say she’d kept up with it, even though she couldn’t imagine Marius objecting if she’d wanted to use the shooting range on the superdreadnaught. However he saw her, it wasn’t as just an attractively shaped piece of meat. And besides, he knew the danger of being unarmed if the enemy chose to board the ship.
Which doesn’t change the fact that I’m about to commit treason, she thought, as she studied the terminal. Technically, freeing hostages held in defiance of Federation Law wasn’t treason, but she’d been raised to understand that the law really meant what the Grand Senate said it meant. Marius could call her a traitor and no one would disagree with him, at least not openly. I could die in the next few minutes.
Her palms felt sweaty, as if the weapon would slip from her hand. There were men and women guarding the hostages who knew how to fight, men and women who had been in real danger. Oslo and his team, at least, had some experience, but they’d never had to do their duty in earnest until now. No one had ever considered her worth assassinating until her husband had become Emperor, and by then it had been too late. She could die, if one of the guards shot her... or she could be captured, caught in the act of high treason.
Somehow, she doubted Marius would forgive her betrayal. He’d b
een betrayed far too many times.
“My Lady,” Oslo said. A dull shudder ran through the ship. Tiffany hoped that meant the ship was launching missiles, rather than taking incoming fire. “This is your last chance to change your mind.”
It was tempting. She could pretend that nothing had happened, that she hadn’t planned to liberate the prisoners and steal a courier boat. And if Talia Vincent said otherwise... well, Talia was the daughter of a traitor, trying to lie to sow trouble between the Emperor and his loyal wife. Ginny wouldn’t say a word. It would be so easy just to climb onto her bed and crawl under the covers, to pretend that she’d never been anywhere else.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself any longer, she thought. The whole concept of threatening children to make their father cooperative was too much. Perhaps, in hindsight, she should have acted on her doubts sooner. And if I die here, at least I will have tried.
She took a breath. “I’m coming,” she said, firmly. “Please don’t try to stop me.”
Oslo gave her a long look, then nodded curtly. He must have been concerned for her safety, she figured; he wouldn’t have agreed to take the immense risk of liberating the hostages and fleeing the ship if he hadn’t felt she was in danger every day she spent with her husband. It was a depressing thought, but one she knew she had to face. Marius was no longer the man she’d married, the man she’d pledged herself to.
“Keep your weapon in your holster until we reach the guest quarters,” he reminded her, as the rest of the team checked their equipment. “We don’t want someone sounding the alert.”
Tiffany nodded, then glanced in the mirror. Her dress, the one Marius enjoyed, was gone, replaced by a form-fitting shipsuit that just had to have been designed by a man. It was so tight she almost felt naked. And yet, with her make-up scrubbed off and her hair tied up in a bun, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize her. Enterprise had over two thousand crewmen, after all. She hoped — she prayed — that they didn’t run into anyone who knew them all by name.
The Barbarian Bride (The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire Book 3) Page 29