The Shadow of Cincinnatus

by Nuttall, Christopher

  He kept that insight to himself as he started to interface, very carefully, with the transport’s datanodes. It wouldn’t have been possible at all if the transport hadn’t been built within the Federation, with all the little modifications the security services insisted on including installed. The Outsiders would be aware of the danger, he suspected, but actually doing something about it without replacing the entire system would be pretty much close to impossible. Or so he hoped. Calmly, he uploaded a message into the system, then attached a supervisory program to the data package. It would move through the network like a ghost, then be uploaded into the planetary network and forwarded to the fleet...with all traces of its passage wiped as soon as it had gone.

  A dull thump echoed through the transport as she entered orbit, her shields taking a glancing blow from an orbital weapons platform that was blown into vapor seconds later by one of the escorts. Uzi pulled himself out of the computer network, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. If someone was watching the system, he’d just revealed his existence and rough location – and there weren’t that many plausible candidates for being a spy. In their place, he would simply have relieved all the mercenaries from duty until he knew the truth.

  “We’re launching,” Roebuck said. “Here we go...”

  Uzi smiled as the shuttlecraft blew free of the transport, then braced himself as the craft rocketed into the planetary atmosphere. Drive field or no, it shook violently as it fell towards the planet’s surface, striking gusts of wind at high attitude while trying to evade incoming fire...if there had been any. Uzi eyed the planetary defense centers, such as they were, through the shuttle’s sensors, but none of them seemed to be going active. Indeed, two of the bases that should have been in view were missing. The forward teams had done a better job than he’d dared fear.

  And let us hope that gives them Victory Disease, he thought, as the shuttle rocked again. The turbulence was bad enough, but at least it wasn’t incoming fire. It won’t be so easy on a world where the governor isn’t such a greedy bastard.

  “We’re being sent to the spaceport,” Roebuck said. He sounded disappointed at the thought of not making a combat jump into the teeth of enemy fire. It always looked exciting until someone actually had to do one. “We have to secure the landing zones for the follow-ups.”

  “Good,” Uzi grunted. “It gives us time to get our planetary legs.”

  The shuttle rocked again, then hit the ground so hard that even Uzi wondered, for a split-second, if they’d actually crashed. But there was no time for worrying about it. He stood up, bellowed orders, then pushed and shoved the armoured recruits through the hatch and out onto the landing strip. The spaceport was fairly average, as spaceports went; it was really nothing more than a cluster of buildings, a handful of landing pads and a few hangers for shuttlecraft. And, thankfully, it was undefended. Quite a few of the Outsider troops were in no condition to fight.

  “What have I told you,” Uzi bellowed, as they struggled to set up a perimeter, “about being sick in your suits?”

  Four more shuttles came in to land in quick succession. Gritting his teeth, Uzi barked more orders, forming the combat effectives up in makeshift squads and then pointing them towards their targets. He took personal command of the first squad and led the way towards the main building, while Roebuck took his squad to the shuttlecraft hangers. It was important to secure the shuttlecraft – they’d need every shuttle they could get to move supplies down to the surface – but it also kept him out of the way. The last thing Uzi needed was a half-trained and inexperienced officer barking orders.

  Or is that precisely what you need? He asked himself. Someone who can take the blame for a screw-up?

  He crashed through the spaceport wall and into the departure lounge. Thankfully, it was almost deserted, even though it would normally be heaving with people. He snapped orders, directing his men to secure the control rooms, security officers and anything else that might be important, than relaxed slightly as he realized there would be almost no resistance. The staff had ordered the civilians to go back home, then most of the staff had gone into hiding. Only a handful of staffers were found and they were swiftly detained. They would be released once their identities had been verified.

  “Mission complete,” he said, with some relief. He detailed a pair of men to handle landing operations – more shuttles were coming in to land, threatening to collide with the other shuttles – then led the remainder of his squad back outside. In the distance, he could see pillars of smoke rising up over Athena City. “Sir?”

  Roebuck met him outside. “We’re being detailed to the advance force,” he said. “They’re letting us take point as we go into the city.”

  Uzi winced. Urban combat was never fun – and the download from the fleet command network, such as it was, showed that parts of the city had dissolved into riots. They would have to be put down as swiftly as possible, with minimum necessary force. On the other hand, at least there didn’t seem to be any organized resistance. The remains of the Federation Marines had gone underground, or scattered into the countryside. There would be time to eliminate them later.

  “Get the men lined up,” Roebuck ordered. He hadn’t lost his enthusiasm. “Hurry!”

  Uzi nodded – salutes were forbidden in combat zones – and started to bark orders. There had been no casualties, apart from the men who had thrown up or suffered badly from the shuttlecraft’s mad descent through the atmosphere. That, too, was something they would learn to overcome, in time. But for the moment it was a major pain in the arse. They would have to remain at the spaceport until they recovered – aided by the taunts of their fellows – then they could be reattached to the ground force. Until then...

  He pushed the thought aside as he mustered the remaining men. In their armor, they would be protected against almost everything, at least everything civilians could muster. The Federation wasn’t keen on arming civilians – the weapons might be turned against Federation officials – but the Rim had always had a progressive view of carrying weapons on uncivilized worlds. And then there were the Federation Marines. Their weapons would go right through the suits.

  “Maintain formation – and calm,” he ordered, sharply. “Do not respond with lethal force without my order. Do you understand?”

  As soon as they agreed, he turned and led the way down the road into the city. It was an impressive sight, part of him had to admit, even though some of the buildings were clearly damaged by the fighting. The settlers hadn’t waited for too long before removing the prefabricated crap and replacing it with homebuilt crap. He smiled at the thought, then activated his loudspeaker. It would give away their position, but he would have been very surprised if the enemy hadn’t already known exactly where they were. The armored combat battlesuits were many things, yet they weren’t quiet!

  “RETURN TO YOUR HOMES,” he bellowed through the loudspeaker. “STAY INDOORS. WAIT FOR ORDERS. RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. STAY INDOORS. WAIT FOR ORDERS.”

  Uzi glanced from side to side as the squad continued its advance. All he could do was hope the locals would obey orders. If they didn’t, there would be a massacre.

  * * *

  Greg Easter had never worked a day in his life. It wasn’t through choice. His father had been a Federation Loyalist – he’d worked for one of the big interstellar corporations – and too many people remembered the name when the younger Greg had started to apply for work. They’d either hated the Federation and its supporters or feared that Greg was part of a Trojan Horse operation to find a legalistic precedent to seize their facilities and give them to a Federation supporter. There had been no hope of finding work.

  He’d grown into a bitter young man, spending most of his time drinking, smoking and gambling with his friends. Governor Barany didn’t give a damn about them, personally, but he’d ensured they had the means to keep drinking themselves to death. It was obvious to anyone who thought about it, Greg considered, that the governor was no Federation Loyalist.
All he cared about was money and pleasing himself. But at least he’d had a loose tie to the Federation. The Outsiders had none...

  ...And they would probably kill his family too.

  Greg had grown up knowing that if the planet became independent, anyone with any ties to the Federation would be hunted down and killed. It wasn’t a comfortable thought. Now, with armoured troopers from beyond the Rim marching through the streets, it was clear the lynch mobs would not be far behind. His father would be killed, his mother and sisters would be raped and then killed...and Greg himself would be killed too. He knew there would be no mercy from the rebels. Why should they show any when the Federation had shown them none?

  And so he’d gathered his friends, had a few stiff drinks to boost their morale, then started to put together an ambush. It had been simple enough. They’d filled older bottles with gas, then attached rags and prepared to light them, all the while congratulating themselves on their ingenuity. Surely, no one else had thought of such a simple weapon.

  He smiled to himself as the armored troopers came into view, then lit the first match.

  * * *

  There was no warning. Uzi barely registered the bottle flying through the air before it struck his armored forehead and exploded, sending sheets of flame everywhere. A Molotov Cocktail, the dispassionate side of his mind noted; a very simple and common makeshift weapon. But useless against armored suits. More flew at the squad and crashed into the suits, leaving them burning but unharmed. And the flames died away quickly as they ran out of fuel.

  “Forward,” he ordered. Ahead of them, his sensors picked out a number of youths, staring in disbelief as the troopers walked forward. The ambush had been so amateurish that he was almost ashamed of himself for just walking straight into it. But it was also no threat to armored men. “And take prisoners.”

  * * *

  Greg had exulted when he’d seen the flames envelop their targets. He’d expected to see them collapse to the ground, burning to death. Instead, the flames faded, revealing the armored men marching straight at their position. He felt something warm and wet running down his pants as they came closer, then he turned and fled as fast as he could. His friends, shocked into sobriety by the sight, fled too. Behind him, the armored men kept marching forward, never slowing or speeding up. He didn’t stop running until he reached his home and ran inside, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  Uzi shrugged when the youths outran the armored soldiers. They could have caught them, if they’d run, but there had really been no point. The youths weren’t soldiers, or even armed with anything more dangerous than Molotov Cocktails, and the story of how they’d been effortlessly scattered would do more to discourage resistance than mass shootings.

  “Shouldn’t we be hunting them down?” Casey asked, as they started to walk back into the streets. “Give them a proper thrashing?”

  “If you thrashed someone in a combat suit, you’d smash them to jam,” Uzi pointed out, darkly. “And you would make their families mad and everyone else fearful. It would encourage resistance, I think. This way, we get to make a show of strength while not actually doing anything they can use to rally resistance.”

  He sighed. So far, none of the Outsiders had committed any atrocities, but how long would it be before that changed? And would his message to the Federation reach anyone who could make use of it? There was no way to know.

  “But sir...”

  “Do as you’re told,” Uzi snapped. “The objective is to take the planet as peacefully as possible, not to slaughter drunken idiots in their hundreds!”

  The thought made him grind his teeth in frustration. He understood the impulse to just break out the clubs and get stuck into a mob of idiots who thought they could defy armored men – and it had been the first real encounter with any resistance for most of his troopers – but it had to be suppressed. Let them get mad at him rather than the locals. General Erskine would have his head, perhaps literally, if his men committed any atrocities. And then he would be completely useless to the Federation.

  Watch and wait, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something distasteful – and some of the things he’d had to do had been incredibly distasteful – for the greater glory of the Federation. Watch, wait and take your chance when you see it.

  The next street held a makeshift barricade, completely abandoned. Judging from its position, it had been intended to keep refugees from the inner city out of the suburbs, rather than blocking the Outsiders as they moved into the city from the landing zones. Or maybe the builders had thought they had time to block the other lines of approach too. He shrugged, then ordered his men to tear it down. Once it was gone, they could move on towards the center of the city.

  And hopefully without encountering more idiots, he thought.

  * * *

  “The city has been largely secured, sir,” General Erskine said. His face on the display screen flickered in and out, a warning that the communications network was far from stable. “There are some minor pockets of resistance – or riots – but we have them sealed off and will deal with them, once everything else is under control.”

  “Good,” Charlie said. “And the facilities?”

  “Some are intact, but quite a few have been destroyed,” General Erskine reported. “The Federation Navy took out a number of orbital installations too, as they left orbit. They must have assumed they were going to lose the system.”

  Charlie cursed under his breath. Athena’s industry would have been a valuable prize. Not all of it had been destroyed – a glance at the report made that clear – but enough had been taken out to make rebuilding it a significant challenge. Luckily, enough had survived to ensure that Athena wouldn’t need help from outside to rebuild. It would just take several years.

  And by then the war might well be finished, he thought, coldly. Either we win or they win – or we manage to compromise. The industries here might prove immaterial to the outcome.

  “And the local assets?” He asked. “Are they in place to take over?”

  “For the moment, only in the city itself,” Erskine said. “They took a pounding from the Marines before they scattered, sir. We can start recruiting from other locals, as planned, but that offers other risks.”

  “We will just have to live with them,” Charlie said. “Keep a lid on any trouble, General.”

  “I will,” Erskine said. “And good luck with the advance.”

  His image vanished. Charlie frowned, then turned his attention to the reports from the Asimov Points. Both of the systems leading back towards the Federation had been secured, but it wasn’t clear if they’d managed to get off a warning or not. If they had, the shit would definitely hit the fan. And even if they hadn’t...it wouldn’t be long before someone realized that something had gone badly wrong. The Justinian War had taught the Federation to pay attention to vague reports of trouble from the fringe.

  And then there was the Federation Navy’s ships...

  He sighed. They’d won this battle, but the war itself had only just begun.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It is a curious fact about the Federation that, in all but its final incarnation, it was determined to produce at least an appearance of following the rule of law. This tended to produce no shortage of legalistic foul play to create a veneer of legality, all of which was complete nonsense. The laws could be changed at will by the Grand Senate. Quite why they felt this compulsion, when no one was in any doubt that the Federation cared nothing for the rule of law, has never been satisfactorily explained.

  -The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Earth, 4098

  “It’s been a month,” Marius said, angrily. “A month of endless stalling, all around the same question! Are orders from the Grand Senate legal by definition?”

  “You may have underestimated that lawyer,” Tiffany agreed. They sat together in his office, looking down at the latest set of reports. She wrapped an arm around
his shoulders as she spoke. “How long does it normally take to hold a court martial?”

  “A week,” Marius said. “The evidence is presented, the defendant and his defender make speeches...then the jury moves to immediate judgement. It shouldn’t take any longer than a week at most. It’s gathering the evidence that generally takes time.”

  He cursed himself under his breath. Deciding to give Blake Raistlin a reasonably fair trial had been a mistake. He was sure of that now. It would have been relatively straightforward to get a board to rubber-stamp an execution, or simply to have him shot along with the others after the Fall of Earth, but he’d had to make a point. And besides, he’d felt personally betrayed by Raistlin. He’d trusted the younger man to do his duty, rather than serving as a spy and assassin for his family. Instead, Raistlin had shot him.

  The media was full of accounts of the trial, divided between those who thought Raistlin was innocent and those who wanted him shot out of hand. How was it, Marius asked himself, that the media had been the only industry to survive the fall of the Grand Senate and come out reasonably intact? But then, to maintain a facade of impartiality, the media corporations were officially owned by people with no connections to the Grand Senate. They’d simply kept their jobs and started to work without having to have everything approved, in triplicate. And several media corporations had been semi-independent in any case.

  And they’d been joined by hundreds of others. There were thousands of would-be journalists out there and, now the regulations governing the media had been swept away, they’d started to band together to form new outlets of their own. Marius suspected, from what Professor Kratman had said, that most of them wouldn’t last longer than a year, but for the moment they were creating a barrage of noise. Life had been easier, the PR staff had said, when most of the media did what the Grand Senate said. But then, it had also included hundreds of obnoxious reporters who’d managed to get in the way during the war.