The Shadow of Cincinnatus

by Nuttall, Christopher

  “Keeping the Federation in order is useful,” Tully protested. “I really think that we shouldn’t move too quickly...”

  “But we have to move now,” Marius said. “Or would you sooner watch as Earth collapses into chaos?”

  He moved on before Tully could say a word. “See to it, please,” he ordered. “Now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hammond said. “I’ll have the revised code on your desk within the week.”

  Marius watched as Hammond and Tully left, then looked up at Kratman. “What the hell was I thinking?”

  “Better to reign in hell than to be dead and buried,” Kratman misquoted. “And besides, you have managed to make some improvements already.”

  “Not enough,” Marius said. “Tell me something. Did you ever consider, when you were on the Matterhorn, that it wasn’t worth it?”

  “Never,” Kratman said. “But that was before the real corruption started to set in.”

  Marius nodded. The Blue Star War had weakened the Imperialist Faction in Federation politics to the point where it became completely ineffectual. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the remaining two factions, for their separate reasons, hadn’t worked together to weaken the Federation Navy and bureaucracy. And then Admiral Justinian had tried to overthrow them in one blow. There were days when Marius wondered if the Federation would have done any better if Justinian had succeeded. Someone more interested in power for its own sake might have been better at keeping his subordinates in line.

  “I also remember being drenched with work when I reported for duty,” Kratman added, dryly. “Don’t you?”

  “I suppose,” Marius said.

  He smiled at the memory. Midshipman Drake had bitched about the amount of work he had to do, until he’d been promoted. Lieutenant Drake had been sure he was the hardest-worked officer on the ship, until he’d become the XO. Commander Drake had cursed his youthful self even as he worked himself to the bone...and then he’d been promoted again. There had been no respite as a Captain, Commodore or Vice Admiral. The splendid cabin and the right to have a staff of his own had come with more paperwork than any one man could do in a lifetime, as well as the risks of commanding a fleet in battle.

  “There are too many vested interests for any such change to go unimpeded,” Kratman said, after a moment. “We may want to look at selling off shipyards and production nodes to their former managers. Give them a stake in the new order, something to keep them loyal – and productive.”

  Marius sighed. The Grand Senate, to its credit, had started mass production of everything from missiles to superdreadnaughts and fleet carriers. It wasn’t something he wanted to slow down, not when there were countless problems along the Rim that needed handling as quickly and efficiently as possible. The warlords might be gone, but the pirates remained...and there was still a giant question mark over the Outsiders. What were they doing? They had to know the Federation’s war with its rogue military officers had finally come to an end.

  “We will see,” he said. He considered, briefly, just taking Tiffany and a starship and heading for somewhere nicely isolated. His sense of duty wouldn’t allow it. “How are the new students coming along?”

  “Slowly,” Kratman said. “The educational base isn’t there. But we’re working on them.”

  Marius gritted his teeth. It was absurd that the Federation, with billions of young men and women within the Sol System alone, couldn’t produce enough manpower to crew the Federation Navy, but there was no avoiding the problem. Earth’s educational system simply didn’t produce enough men and women who could read, let alone handle a computer, drive an aircar or anything else useful. It would take generations to produce more than a handful of people each year who didn’t have to do things by rote.

  And we might not be able to trust manpower from the outer worlds, he added, in the privacy of his own mind.

  “The sooner we start mass exoduses from Earth, the better,” Marius said, finally. “But will it be enough?”

  “Not for a decade,” Kratman said. “Moving millions of people will take years, even with the contraception drugs. But the sooner we begin, the sooner it will be done.”

  “If it ever is,” Marius said. He shook his head. “I must have been out of my mind.”

  “It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it,” Kratman said. “You’re doing fine.”

  Chapter Four

  Chang Li. Former elected Senator from Nova Athena. Sole non-Grand Senate linked Senator in the Federation Senate, thus effectively powerless. Departed Earth following the Grand Senate’s imposition of emergency laws and effective state of martial law. Leader of the Outsider Federation...

  -The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Sanctuary, 4098

  Very few human eyes – and none from the Federation – had set eyes on the Sanctuary System. It was over a hundred light years from the official edge of explored space, a cold planet circling a cold star. There was nothing to attract the attention of the Federation Survey Service, which concentrated on stars that might have given birth to life-bearing worlds and tended to overlook red giants or white dwarves. Even if a survey ship passed through the system, Chang Li had been assured, there would be little to see. The laboring cadres were hidden deep under the planet’s poisonous atmosphere.

  She ran her hand through her long dark hair, then sucked in her breath as the shuttlecraft dropped through the atmosphere. Sanctuary was very far from the ideal human world, something that would further disqualify it as a target of interest for the Survey Service. The thought that life might have arisen on its surface wouldn’t occur to any of them, she hoped, even though Sanctuary had an intelligent race of its own. But then, even if the Survey Service had noticed, it was unlikely they’d care. The planet was completely useless to human settlers.

  The shuttle bounced as it passed through the clouds, then broke through and headed towards the base. Li eyed the surface through the shuttle’s sensors, feeling her flesh crawl as she saw the creatures moving far below her. The Insects – their real name was utterly unpronounceable to human mouths – looked like giant beetles. Merely looking at them reminded her of the insect phobia shared by so many humans, yet they were an intelligent race in their own right. And, given that they shared a hive mind of sorts, a unique one. There was no other hive mind known to exist in Federation space.

  A handful of large buildings – resembling anthills as much as anything else – had been built around the landing pad. She studied them doubtfully for a long moment, then dismissed her worries about concealment. If the Survey Service started sending probes into Sanctuary’s atmosphere, they’d discover the Insects in short order, sealing their fate. The Federation would rapidly send forces to convince the Insects to bow down to humanity – or die. There would be no alternative. The Federation had a long memory – and besides, beating down aliens served as its reason for existence. A new alien threat would help to unite it and, just incidentally, keep the Grand Senate in power.

  But the Grand Senate is gone, she thought. And what does that mean for us?

  Another shudder ran through the shuttle as it dropped down and landed neatly in front of one of the giant buildings. Li reached for her mask, pulled it on over her face and walked towards the airlock. Normally, on any alien homeworld, there would be plenty of places suitable for humans, but not here. The Insects had offered to build the human shuttlecraft an airtight walkway, but Li had declined. They were allies, not slaves, even if they could breathe human air without problems.

  Outside, the chill caught at her despite the heating elements in her suit. She walked across the pad, into the nearest building and through another airlock. Inside, the atmosphere was human-norm, thankfully. She wasn’t the only visitor who needed an earth-like atmosphere to live. The entire Outsider Federation leadership had come to attend the meeting.

  And if the Federation knew we were consorting with not one, but two alien races, our deaths would be assured, she thought, as she took her seat.
But they’d have to work hard to decide just what they were actually going to shoot us for.

  “Honorable Chang Li,” High Lord Slant said. He looked more human than the Insect representative, but nowhere near human enough to fool even a casual sweep. The Marsha resembled green gorillas, although their furry skins were covered by human-designed uniforms. “Welcome.”

  “I thank you,” Li said. The Marsha had been expanding into space when the Outsiders had discovered them and made common cause. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they’d been discovered by the Federation first. As a starfaring race, they would have been rapidly and cheaply crushed by the Federation Navy. “And I thank all of you.”

  There was a long pause. “I called this meeting because there have been developments in the Federation,” she said. “The Justinian War is over...and Admiral Drake has made himself Emperor of the Federation. We must ask ourselves, now, if we still wish to proceed with our plans.”

  She waited for the council to review the documents she’d uploaded into the room’s processor, thinking hard. Years ago, she’d come to the conclusion that there was no real hope of salvaging anything from the Federation. The Grand Senate held power too strongly for anyone to take it from them legally – and if anyone threatened to get too close to supreme power, they would simply change the rules. Her election had been the last gasp of the colonies, she knew. It had taken years of careful planning to ensure her victory over two candidates backed and funded by the Grand Senate...and yet her victory had turned to ashes as soon as she’d reached Earth. There had been no hope of changing anything.

  “Nothing has changed,” High Lord Slant proclaimed. “This is the same Admiral who worried us, years ago. We could not expect him to leave us alone.”

  Li nodded, remembering the first time she’d set eyes on Admiral Drake. He’d been addressing the Grand Senate, begging – pleading, almost – for reinforcements to be sent to the Rim. Drake had even figured out that someone was organizing the Outsiders, the web of semi-legal colonies out beyond the Rim, as well as suspecting the existence of two unknown alien races. He was entirely correct, Li knew, and only the Grand Senate’s interest in maintaining its own domains rather than expansion had prevented him from carrying out survey missions of his own. There was no reason to expect him not to launch the missions himself, once he was in a secure position on Earth.

  “The Federation has also been weakened,” General Charlie Stuart said. The short dark-haired commander of the Outsider Strike Fleet looked, as ever, reassuringly competent. “If we’d been in a position to strike three years ago...”

  “But we weren’t,” Li said, a little sharper than she’d intended. If they’d known Admiral Justinian was planning to make a bid for power, they might have tried to take advantage of it for themselves. “There’s no point in crying over wasted opportunities.”

  “There’s also the problem that the Federation possesses a vastly greater industrial infrastructure,” Director Wilma Ripley pointed out. “Given time, they will out-produce us by a staggering margin.”

  “Then we move now,” Stuart said. He tapped the table, then brought up a chart comparing the Outsider industrial plant with that of the Federation. The Outsiders had a more modern plant with better management, but there were few other advantages. “The longer we delay, the harder it will be to win.”

  Li winced, inwardly. Forty years of planning, forty years of building up a fleet that could challenge the Federation Navy, forty years...all of which might have been wasted, thanks to Admiral Justinian. The Federation Navy had been top-heavy, with poor training and worse morale, prior to the Battle of Earth. It wasn’t anything of the sort now and, if a number of senior officers had been killed, hundreds of talented newcomers had risen up to take their places.

  “There is no alternative,” Slant said. The humans could make their peace with the Federation – or at least go into exile. The Marsha could only look forward to endless servitude, if the Federation didn’t decide they were too dangerous to be allowed to exist. “Your reports make it clear that the Federation is planning a new wave of expansion. This will carry them inevitably towards our space. At that point, we will have no choice, but to fight.”

  “Striking now gives us the greatest chance of outright victory,” Stuart agreed. “A long war would be disastrous for both of us.”

  “But our industry is not ready,” the Insect chirped. It had no name, merely a number. “If our first blow misfired, we would be unable to keep the fleet operational.”

  Li hesitated, trying to parse out her own thoughts. Caution came naturally to her after a decade on Earth, where the grim awareness that a single slipup would mean her death had kept her mind focused on security. The risks of striking now were immense, she knew; they were, in many ways, unable to match the Federation. And yet, the Federation would never be weaker. A series of hammer blows might topple the structure, allowing them to win by default. Even if they lost the battles, their homeworlds and colonies would remain undiscovered. There would be time to rebuild and try again.

  She looked down at the table, thinking hard. There were millions of potential rebels within the Federation, from large insurgent movements on various worlds to rebel groups and discontented citizens on others. Even Earth had its discontents, although the Grand Senate had squashed or co-opted most of those. The Outsiders had been making contact with dozens of groups, offering weapons and support in exchange for a coordinated uprising. It was risky – even with the Federation fighting a civil war, they were still keeping an eye on potential threats – but there was no alternative. The more forces they could keep tied down, the better.

  But she also knew just how harshly the Federation would respond. It had happened before, after smaller uprisings. Leaders were executed, entire societies were purged or transported or simply buried under crushing piles of debt...and hopes of independence, even of some limited autonomy, firmly crushed. Did she really want that on her conscience?

  She shook her head, but she knew it was futile. The Marsha had to go to war, if only to fight for the independence they would lose when the Federation discovered them. And there were too many rebels and insurgents who would fight anyway, once the Federation started tightening its grip. She could do nothing to stop it. All she could do was muster the strength of the Outsider Federation and pray that it would be enough to win the war.

  “It seems we have no choice,” she said. Victory was the only acceptable outcome. “How quickly can we launch the offensive?”

  “We can move our ships to jump-off positions within a month,” Stuart said. “But I would prefer to take two months, so we can insert commandos and undercover agents into various fleet bases and other targets. That would give us the greatest chance of capturing as many Federation military installations intact as possible.”

  “Adding to our fighting power,” Li said. She’d watched as the military officers argued their way through the planning stages. “But will it be enough?”

  The memory bothered her more than she wanted to admit. There was no escaping the fact that the Federation was staggeringly huge. It would take months, even using the Asimov Point network, to move from the Rim to Earth, giving the Federation time to organize its defenses and mount counterattacks. The Outsiders would have the advantage of cohesion and concentration, while the Federation Navy was scattered, but that wouldn’t last. And if the Federation managed to parry the blows, it would stand a very good chance of winning the war itself.

  “There’s no way to avoid going through their bases on the Rim,” Stuart said, earnestly. “They would go after our supply lines, given half a chance. We need to take them out before they realize they’re at war.”

  “They will be struck before they realize the blow is on the way,” Slant assured them, loudly. The Marsha were a warlike race, one that looked for the next challenge and embraced it eagerly. “And that will be the end.”

  Li nodded, although she still had her doubts.

&nb
sp; They spent the next hour studying the final version of the operational plan. Li watched as Stuart went through every detail, answering questions with a patience she suspected he didn’t feel. He’d been involved in the Outsider Federation from the day it had started to take shape, even doing most of the legwork behind assembling the Outsider Navy. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to put it to the test, even though it would risk everything. There were only so many simulations they could run, he’d once told her, before they started to lose their edge.

  Slant held his tongue until the end, when he started asking questions about assault and occupation troops for Federation worlds. Li had to watch as Stuart explained, carefully, that most of the troops would be human. The Federation was largely xenophobic and, if the locals saw alien troops on the ground, there would be trouble. Memories of the First Interstellar War had yet to fade, even though no one alive remembered humanity’s traumatic first encounter with an alien race.

  “My people will demand the honor of fighting for glory,” Slant said, crossly. It was hard to read the emotions on his face, but the way his fist was twitching was quite indicative. He was annoyed. “We cannot be sidelined.”

  “There will be assaults on worlds without local populations,” Stuart said, sharply. “Your people can assault them, if they wish.”

  “There is no glory if there are no witnesses,” Slant said.

  Li concealed her exasperation as the argument raged on. The Marsha didn’t have an aristocratic society, not in the sense that the Grand Senate had been composed of aristocrats. As far as she understood it, the Marsha won glory, which translated into breeding and bragging rights. The more successful a person was, starting from nothing, the more honor and power they amassed. Instead of ensuring that their children had the best start in life, their parents actually disadvantaged them. How else could they gain honor? The system made little sense to her, but she had a feeling that human affairs were equally mystifying to the Marsha.