“I can help you to your stateroom,” Commander Lewis offered. “I...”
“Stay here and continue to monitor Point Beta,” Marius ordered. Perhaps it had been a mistake to split the fleet, after all. Garibaldi could have assumed command when they launched the next assault through Point Beta. “Call me when we are ten minutes away from the Asimov Point.”
He sighed as he forced his tired brain to think. Captain Watson was a solid, unimaginative officer. Marius had reviewed all of the commanding officers assigned to Home Fleet, looking for signs they wouldn’t be tempted to do anything stupid. Watson could handle the assault, if necessary, but he couldn’t make long-term decisions. Besides, some of the other commanders would object to taking orders from a mere captain.
You picked them, a mocking voice said. It took him a moment to realize that he was imagining it. You wanted men who wouldn’t try to overthrow you.
“Inform Captain Watson that...that I will be testing his abilities by allowing him tactical command of the offensive,” he said. It was the only way he could allow someone else to hold command, without admitting his weakness. “There will be opportunities for the other commanders later.”
He nodded to her, then stumbled out of the hatch and into his stateroom. It was larger than he remembered – but then, the last time he’d commanded a fleet, Tiffany had accompanied him. Now, he was alone. He staggered, then somehow managed to remain upright until he reached the bed. It was all he could do to lie down and close his eyes.
Not good part of his mind noted. Falling asleep on the command deck was a worrying sign at the best of times, let alone in the midst of a war. Not good at all.
* * *
Nova Athena, Charlie had discovered, was what all Outsider worlds wanted to be. Her limited independence from the Federation had allowed her to develop a thriving and innovative economy, which – thanks to various embargos by the Federation – had benefited the black market far more than anyone else. The only downside was the lack of Asimov Points, which automatically added an extra tariff to shipping in and out of the system. But the locals didn’t care. It just gave them an extra barrier between themselves and the Grand Senate.
“They split their fleet,” Commander Johan said. “Why?”
“To keep us in doubt,” Charlie said. The tactic was obvious, all the more so as there was only one target that required so much firepower to squash. “They’re coming here.”
The reports were clear enough, even though they were out of date by several days. Both fleets were moving, slowly and patiently, through Asimov Point Chains, advancing steadily towards systems that were close to Nova Athena, in realspace. They would cross realspace then, Charlie was sure, and attack with maximum force. With a little effort, they could even coordinate their forces to launch a joint attack.
But they might not need to launch a joint attack, he thought, sourly. Without an Asimov Point to hold, Nova Athena could be attacked from almost any direction. They could tear apart much of the infrastructure without ever having to engage the defenses.
“You can’t be sure,” Commander Johan said.
Charlie smirked. “I bet you the last we’ll see of those fleets, until they arrive here, will be in Salam and Yankee, respectively. They’re the closest locations to Nova Athena, in realspace.”
He shook his head. There was little humor in this situation, nothing to smile about. Eleven battle squadrons would smash the planetary defenses, even if they did take losses – and the system would be doomed. He knew better than to expect any mercy. The Federation would land troops and keep the planet firmly under control, at least until the end of the war. And her infrastructure would be pressed into service, supplying the Federation’s war machine.
“Start the evacuation plan,” Charlie ordered. There had been no attempt to expand the industries in the system – they’d known it was a prime target – but they hadn’t evacuated the workforce, not when the workers had been reluctant to go. There was no choice now. “I want as many people as possible out of the system by the time the shit hits the fan.”
“There will be protests,” Johan said, carefully. “Wives and families...”
“I know,” Charlie said. There were nowhere near enough transports in the system to take the families, along with the workers. They would have to be put on the backburner, for the moment, despite the risk of the Federation taking them hostage. “Deal with it. We cannot risk allowing people who actually know how to think falling into enemy hands.”
He sighed. The Federation had used rote learning, more and more, as its educational infrastructure worsened. It had seemed easier to compensate rather than to try to fix the problem at the source. But Nova Athena had managed to produce hundreds of talented and innovative workers who were capable of actually understanding what they were doing and even improving it. They could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands.
“I’ll do my best,” Johan said, finally. “And the defense plans?”
Charlie nodded. The only hope was a defense of Nova Athena itself, even though it meant the remainder of the system would be left exposed. Some facilities would have to be destroyed, he knew; others would, hopefully, not draw fire, if only because the Federation would want them for itself. But they would have to be destroyed if the system fell, he knew...
“We’ll have to defend the planet,” he said. “There’s nothing else to do.”
* * *
Under other circumstances, Uzi would have admired how Nova Athena was responding to an imminent attack. Normally, civilians panicked, while uniformed paper-pushers weren’t too far behind. There were riots in the streets, upswings in petty crimes and plenty of conspicuous consumption. Instead, the workforce was being peacefully evacuated, while the remainder of the population was buying guns and settling in for a long insurgency. It wouldn’t do more than smash up the planet, Uzi knew, but it would make them feel as though they were doing something worthwhile.
Now, though, he needed to think of a way to damage the defenses before the shit hit the fan, but he hadn’t been able to find one. The Outsiders had known the dangers of chaos software before Admiral Justinian had deployed it on Earth; their computer systems were secure, when they were interlinked at all. Indeed, the system was actually designed to allow them to share data without risking contamination. It might not work so well when the battle actually started, but it was definitely making pre-battle sabotage impossible.
He gritted his teeth as he escorted another line of workers to the shuttlecraft, which would take them to the transports waiting in orbit. Part of him marveled at how much discipline the civilians were showing – he’d seen trained soldiers who showed less self-control – but he kept working away at the problem. There just wasn’t any way for a single person, no matter how capable, to actually make an impression. Unless...
The plan slowly took shape in his mind. It would depend, of course, on where he was stationed by the time the attack began. The Outsiders didn’t seem to know quite what to do with the space-trained troops. In their place, Uzi would have sent them elsewhere, but instead they’d been deployed to the planet. Maybe, just maybe, it would give him a chance to strike a blow for the Federation.
And if it didn’t, he told himself, he could make contact with the occupation forces and return to where he belonged.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
For defense planners, FTL became a nightmare. An attack could come from any vector at all, without any hope of detection.
-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199
Nova Athena, 4101
“The emperor beat us here, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
“I didn’t know it was a race,” Roman muttered, testily. It would have been nice to beat the emperor to Nova Athena, but the Outsiders had put up an unexpected fight in the Salam System and Roman had paused to smash their defenses before proceeding to the edge of the gravity limit and entering FTL. “Hail Thunderbird, Lieutenant, and inform the emperor that we are ready to proceed
.”
Moments later, the emperor’s face appeared in the display. Roman sucked in his breath when he saw just how haggard the emperor looked; his face was pale and worn, his hair was lanky and there was an unpleasant glint in his eye. And, Roman noted almost absently, he was leaning forward so that everything beneath his collar was concealed. It didn’t look like a good sign.
“Sir,” Roman said, formally. “I’ve uploaded a tactical report to you.”
“I’ll review it later,” Emperor Marius said. His voice was harsh, as if he were having trouble breathing. “I’m forwarding an operational plan to you, based on the intelligence from probes and scoutships. You’ll notice I’ve given you the place of honor.”
Roman studied the details as they appeared in his display. The plan was simple enough; Task Force 5.1 would advance on the planet, while Task Force 5.2 would cover their rear. And yet, there was something about it that set alarm bells off in Roman’s head. Task Force 5.2 – the emperor’s command – would be called upon to do very little, unless the Outsiders put up a real fight. That was so unlike Marius Drake that Roman was almost tempted to call him on it. Whatever else could be said about his mentor, he was no coward, neither morally nor physically.
“I expect your career to be boosted by this,” Emperor Marius continued. “Try not to fuck up.”
“No, sir,” Roman said, carefully.
He kept his consternation hidden as best as he could. It didn’t make sense. Emperor Marius was practically giving him the credit for the operation on a silver platter. He wasn’t the sort of person to steal credit – he’d certainly never tried to take credit for Operation Sword – but it would certainly look odd for him to stand aside when they were both on the scene. It was either blatant favoritism or something worse.
“Then pass the word to your ships,” Emperor Marius ordered. “The operation will begin in one hour from now.”
“Yes, sir,” Roman said. “I look forward to it.”
The emperor’s face vanished. Roman looked at the empty display for a long moment, then brought up the data from the scoutships. Nova Athena hadn’t changed much since the last scout mission, seven months ago; the only real change was the appearance of three battle squadrons in orbit around the planet, along with an additional number of fortresses. Clearly, the locals had long-term plans for independence that might not have taken the Outsiders into consideration. But the data attached to each of the icons positively tagged the superdreadnaughts as having escaped Boston, after the trap had been sprung. It was quite likely they’d withdraw as soon as they saw the incoming fleet.
It would be hard to blame them, Roman thought. They’d be outgunned by my task force alone, unless they have something else up their sleeves.
He tapped a switch, forwarding the operational plan to his ships. There was nothing particularly complex about it, thankfully; the fleets would drive on the planet, pinning the enemy starships against a target they had to defend. They might retreat – Roman was sure they would retreat – but that would leave the planet exposed. In that case, the fleet would pick its way through the fortresses until the planet surrendered. The only real problem with the plan, he decided, was the risk of accidentally striking the planet itself with missiles designed for ship-to-ship combat. The damage to the planet’s ecology would be severe.
Serves them right for not moving into space, the old RockRat in him thought. Like most people who had been born on an asteroid, he’d never really cared for life on planets. Planets are not safe.
“Signal the fleet,” he ordered, after checking the timer. “We will advance in forty minutes.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “Under cloak?”
Roman had wondered about that, but the emperor’s plan didn’t call for using the cloaks. Instead, he wanted to make a stately procession that would allow the Outsiders plenty of time to see the force bearing down on them – and, if they had any sense at all, surrender before it was too late. The only downside was that it would give the superdreadnaughts far too much time to bring up their drives and escape, but one look at the data suggested that sneaking up on them was unlikely to work. There were so many sensors orbiting Nova Athena that it was unlikely a cloaked ship could escape detection.
We could still get a lot closer without being detected, he thought. But the emperor wants to give them plenty of time to see us coming.
Roman shook his head. “No,” he said. Given how many active and passive sensors Nova Athena had scattered around the system, it was unlikely they would last longer than an hour before they were detected. “Let them see us coming.”
He settled back in his command chair and waited, impatiently, for the timer to count down to zero. In hopes of distracting himself, he reviewed the records of the emperor’s march to Yankee...and swiftly discovered something else that didn’t fit. The emperor had made four assaults through Asimov Points and, in all cases, had passed tactical command to one of his subordinates. There was no explanation attached to the records, but the more Roman thought about it, the more it bothered him. Marius Drake was not the sort of man to give up command, not willingly. And there was certainly no excuse for placing command in the hands of inexperienced officers, particularly ones who had been promoted more for being harmless than competent.
And what, Roman asked himself silently, is wrong with the emperor?
“Admiral,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “The fleet is ready to depart.”
“Then bring up the drives and take us in,” Roman ordered. He made a bet with himself about when they would be detected, then pushed the thought aside. “Take us straight towards Nova Athena.”
* * *
Charlie started awake as klaxons echoed through the underground complex. “Alert, alert,” a robotic voice droned. “Enemy ships have been detected; I say again, enemy ships have been detected.”
Cursing, Charlie reached for the terminal and clicked it on. Red icons appeared at once, well away from Nova Athena. It would be seventeen hours – at least – before they arrived in orbit, he saw; they didn’t seem to be trying to hide their destination. But then, there could have been no real doubt, no matter how they feinted. The only real surprise was that the Federation fleet seemed to be operating as two separate units.
“Shut that bloody klaxon off,” he snapped, hitting his wristcom. There was no point in bringing the orbital defenses to full alert, not when it would be hours before the enemy ships entered firing range. The attackers probably hoped his crews would be exhausted by the time the battle began. “And then launch a spread of probes towards the bastards!”
He forced himself to calm down, then reached for his trousers and hastily pulled them over his pants. Sleeping in his underwear was an old habit, one he’d never quite lost. He cursed again as he pulled on his jacket, knowing all too well that he should go back to bed. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep, now he knew the enemy were on their way. The hammer was finally about to drop.
There was a tap at the door. “Commodore Thayne’s compliments, sir,” the young ensign said when he opened it, “and he has sent you coffee and ration bars.”
“How very kind of him,” Charlie growled, as he took the tray. Thayne had made it clear that he thought he should be in command of the defenses, even though he’d never seen a shot fired in anger in his life. Sending coffee and food was a clever little trick intended to keep Charlie out of the CIC for a while longer. “Tell him I’ll be down in the CIC in ten minutes.”
He swallowed half of the coffee in a single gulp – Nova Athena’s coffee was simply too sickly-sweet for his tastes – then took a bite of the ration bar. As always, it tasted suspiciously like cardboard. Sending him a ration bar was a non-too-subtle jab at his insistence that REMFs should share at least some of the hardships of the men and women on the front line. He rolled his eyes at the pettiness of people who had spent the war in peaceful billets, then sobered. Nova Athena was about to become the new front line.
Dropping the cup in the bas
ket for washing, he strode out of his office and down towards the CIC. Armed men were everywhere, guarding every door, even though he knew it was pointless. Federation Marines were not about to drop out of nowhere and attack the hidden defense complex. As far as the Federation knew, the nerve center of the defenses was on a different continent, buried under the desert. They knew nothing about the real CIC, concealed under a giant mountain. The locals intended to keep the base operational even if they lost control of the high orbitals and had to submit to occupation.
“General,” Commodore Thayne said. He nodded towards the giant holographic display. “As you can see, we have a situation.”
“So we do,” Charlie said. He allowed his eye to wander over the consoles – and the pale-faced men and women manning them. They’d held regular drills, planning for everything from a minor raid to a major offensive, but the crews had never faced a real threat. Now, their homeworld was about to start fighting for its life. “And our status?”
Thayne looked annoyed at Charlie’s apparent unconcern. “We have eleven battle squadrons bearing down on us,” he said, sharply. “I think this is a major offensive.”
“You don’t say,” Charlie murmured. He reached out and clasped the other man’s shoulder before he could start spluttering in outrage. “There is no point in panicking, commodore, or in overreacting. The Federation will not be here for” – he glanced at the display, then quickly calculated the time difference – “fifteen hours, perhaps more. There is plenty of time to prepare our defenses.”
Charlie walked over to the command chair and sat down. “Contact Admiral Jalil,” he added. “I want him to stand by to activate Defense Plan Theta.”
Thayne’s mouth dropped open. “But...but that plan calls for them to retreat!”
“Yes,” Charlie agreed. For once, he understood the younger man’s outrage. The thought of retreating without firing more than a handful of shots was unpleasant, to say the least. “There is no choice.”
The Shadow of Cincinnatus Page 37