The Shadow of Cincinnatus (16 page)

The sound of a lorry reached his ears as the vehicle lumbered into view. It was typical, a heavy-lifter designed for more primitive worlds; easy to drive, easy to repair and easy to cannibalize, if it happened to be broken completely. But it was far too close to the gate to be allowed any closer. He reached for his communicator, intending to tell the guards to fire warning shots, then the world turned brilliant white. Chas found himself on the other side of the room, stunned. What had happened?

He pulled himself to his feet, then swore as he peered out of the window. The guardpost was gone, along with the lorry. There was a smoking crater where the latter had been while – behind it – armed men were charging right at the Marine complex, firing as they came. Chas cursed – half the company was out on patrol duties, while two platoons had been meant to be getting some downtime in the barracks – then grabbed his rifle and ran out of the office. His ready platoon would have to form a line to hold the enemy back while the sleepers grabbed weapons and armored up.

“Form a line,” he bawled, cursing the planetary defenders under his breath. A proper Forward Operating Base would have armor everywhere, giving the Marines plenty of room to defend themselves if necessary. Here, there was hardly any real protection at all. “And get the...”

Another explosion, far larger, cut off his words. He looked up, in time to see a second heavy-lifter drive into the compound and head straight for the makeshift barracks. The Marines on the ground opened fire, but the vehicle was rigged with heavy armor. Someone had spent quite some time planning the assault, he realized grimly, as he bellowed orders. The sleepers – they wouldn’t be sleeping any longer – would have to run. No doubt the intended target had been the local defenders, with the Marines moved to the top of the target list when they arrived.

“Get down,” he shouted. “I...”

The heavy-lifter exploded. Chas hit the ground, gritting his teeth in pain as the compound started to collapse around the remaining Marines. It was hopeless. They’d been caught badly out of place, without anything like enough protection to save their lives, and at least forty Marines were dead. He tongued his voder, but there was no response. By now, the fleet had to know the planet was under attack...unless the fleet was under attack too. The rebellion couldn’t hope to succeed if the fleet remained intact and untouched.

He lifted his rifle as running footsteps came into his hearing, then opened fire as he saw two men in black uniforms. One of them fell; the other jumped backwards with commendable speed, then hurled in a grenade. Chas reached for it, but he was far too slow...

Darkness.

* * *

“Roman, we have reports coming in from all over the planet,” Elf said, through the command network. “Both us and the locals are under heavy attack.”

Roman swore as more red icons blinked into life. He’d never liked spreading his forces so thin, but he hadn’t thought there was a choice. Now, his people were paying the price for his mistake. He could deal with an uprising on the planet’s surface – if worst came to worst, he could hammer the planet into submission from orbit –but he couldn’t do that if the system itself was under attack from an outside force. And it had to be, because there was no way the rebels could make any permanent gains without it.

“Recall as many of our people as possible,” he ordered. Two icons winked out completely, representing an outpost that had been overrun. It was possible the Marines had managed to make it out and scatter into the streets, but he knew it was unlikely. Strangers would be noticed and they would be hunted down. “And ready the fleet for action.”

Elf didn’t argue, somewhat to his surprise. There were
her
people down on the planet, after all. But she knew the likelihood that this was all part of a greater operation as well as he did.

“And prepare the reserves,” he ordered. “We may need to try to seize the battlestations...”

“Commodore,” Palter said, sharply. “I’m picking up an emergency alert from Asimov Point One. The enemy fleet has been detected.”

Roman cursed under his breath. So far, the enemy had played the game perfectly. By the time his fleet reached the Asimov Point, the battle for control of the point would have been decided. He would then have to assault the point himself...and he didn’t know for sure what had happened on the other side. If the enemy had been planning their attack for years, they might have attacked the defenses on both sides...

“Order the fleet to prepare to set course for the Asimov Point,” he ordered. Right now, it was the most important location in the system. “And prepare to fire on the planet’s industries as we depart.”

“Aye, sir,” Palter said.

Roman gritted his teeth against an unexpected surge of guilt. The planetary industries supported millions – but they would be a weapon against the Federation, if they fell into enemy hands. There was no point in trying to deceive himself. The unknowns wouldn’t have launched their attack against the fleet unless they were reasonably confident of victory. Fifth Fleet needed to see its enemies, needed to know who the hell they were fighting, but they also needed to remain intact. His fleet was the largest in the sector.

“Take us out of orbit,” he ordered. “And open fire.”

Battles are generally won by who gets there first with the most. When the warzones are measured in light years, that takes on a new and terrifying meaning
.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Athena, 4098

“The troops have boarded the remaining stations,” Lieutenant Juneau reported. “No major problems, sir.”

Charlie smiled, relieved. Getting their own people onto the stations had been a gamble; if they’d been discovered, even a man as short-sighted as Governor Barany would have smelt a rat. But it had paid off, handsomely. There had been no message through the Asimov Point, warning of a new war, before the fleet had arrived and quashed all resistance. The remaining defenders, outgunned and completely alone, had surrendered after a brief exchange of fire.

“Have the prisoners transferred to the supply ships,” he ordered. Some of the local defenders would probably want to switch sides, but the Outsiders would have to be careful. Those who refused to switch sides would be transferred to camps on Athena. They could be held there until the end of the war. “And purge the command datacores of the chaos software, then take control.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

She bent her head to her console, while Charlie rapidly reviewed the situation. They held the Asimov Point – both vital Asimov Points. What was his opponent thinking? Would he come after the fleet on the point, knowing it was the shortest route into the Federation, or would he seek to escape through continuous displacement drive? It had worked before, during Operation Retribution. And Charlie knew that Commodore Garibaldi had served during the failed campaign.

“Launch a second spread of drones,” he ordered. “And then bring the fleet around. We will prepare ourselves to advance on the planet.”

* * *

“That’s at least six squadrons of superdreadnaughts, unknown design,” the sensor officer said. “And over two hundred smaller ships.”

Captain Antony Brooks nodded, bitterly. His squadron of battlecruisers had raced to the Asimov Point, only to discover that they were too late. Far too late. The point was surrounded by heavily-armed ships, while the battlestations had either fallen or had been subverted. It hardly mattered, in the end. All that mattered was that the fleet was trapped in the Athena System, unless it wanted to make an escape through stardrive.

“Launch drones, then hold us here,” he ordered. They were well out of engagement range, but he knew better than to take chances. Unknown starships might have unknown surprises, just waiting for the officer incompetent or foolish enough to get too close. “Continue to monitor the enemy output.”

“They could be drones,” his XO suggested. “They might have made a breakthrough in ECM.”

“Too much turbulence for drones, sir,” the sensor officer said. “I think most of those ships are definitely real.”

“Then keep probing their formation,” Antony ordered. “We need to keep the commodore as informed as possible.”

* * *

Roman sat, stiff and cold, on his command deck as the stream of bad news swelled to a torrent. The Asimov Point was occupied, all right, by a fleet that had no business even existing. Long-range sensors and probes warned that his fleet was heavily outgunned, while the defenses around the Asimov Point appeared to have been taken out – or subverted. Roman would have bet on the latter, given how little care Governor Barany had shown for the system’s security. But there was no point in crying over an atmospheric leak now.

The tactical problem was simple enough, but impossible. Unless the enemy was hopelessly incompetent, there was no way the fleet could break through to the Asimov Point without crippling losses. And he couldn’t afford to lose more than a handful of ships. The Federation Navy would be pushed back hundreds of light years if Fifth Fleet were lost...

“Outsiders and aliens,” Elf muttered, in his earpiece. “Who else can they be?”

Roman nodded. The fleet surrounding the Asimov Point included a number of ships of unknown design. Even the best intelligence analysts had found it impossible to say anything
definite
about them. Were they missile-heavy or did they rely more on energy weapons? The only way to find out would be to engage them – and that risked losing the fleet. He considered, briefly, conceding the system and retreating, but he needed intelligence. They had to know what those ships could do.

“Alter course,” he ordered. Thrusting right towards the Asimov Point would guarantee their destruction, but a long-range engagement would give him the chance to see what those ships could do, while allowing him to break contact if necessary. “Take us out on a firing path, then prepare to engage.”

A dull quiver ran through the ship as the massive superdreadnaught altered course, while the formation fanned out to allow the fleet’s full broadsides to be fired at the unknown ships. It was possible, Roman told himself, that they were actually
alien
ships, with
alien
crews, but there was no way to be sure. Would some of the Outsiders be foolish or desperate enough to teach the aliens how to build superdreadnaughts? Or had they come up with their own designs and put them into mass production?

“Enemy fleet altering course,” Palter said. “They’re coming towards us on attack vector.”

But they could double back to the Asimov Point if necessary
, Roman thought. As long as his fleet remained on the outside, the Outsiders could ensure he couldn’t force his way through the point. They could dance the long slow stately dance of fleet movements for hours, if necessary, without sacrificing their position.
They have us and they know it.

He contemplated several possible tactics, all of which would be chancy. Unless his opponent intended to let himself be bullied into making a mistake, there was no way to avoid losing the system. Hell, given time, his opponent could cut half of his ships loose to attack the planet itself, while keeping the rest on the Asimov Point. He had the firepower to make the normal danger of dividing one’s forces immaterial.

“Prepare to fire at maximum range,” he ordered. “And hold the starfighters for emergency launch.”

* * *

Commodore Garibaldi was playing it cool, Charlie noted, as the two fleets slowly converged. He’d expected more boldness from the younger man, although it was clear that Garibaldi had had to grow up quickly, after the Battle of Earth. Besides, even an idiot could calculate the odds and decide not to try to force the Asimov Point. Instead, Garibaldi seemed to be angling towards a long-range engagement.

Charlie smiled. It was quite alright with him.

“Long-range missiles are locked on target,” Lieutenant Juneau informed him.

“Good,” Charlie said. “Prepare to fire.”

His smile grew wider. He’d wondered if the Federation’s sudden determination to improve its missile systems had borne equal fruit, but it seemed, from Commodore Garibaldi’s careful manoeuvring, that it hadn’t. It didn’t seem to have occurred to the younger man that he was in Charlie’s missile range; indeed, that he’d been in range for several minutes. The only reason Charlie had held his fire was to allow Garibaldi to sink further into the trap. He would have no time to simply reverse course when he realized he was under attack.

“Missiles ready to fire,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

Charlie sobered. This was it, he knew; this was the moment of truth. Either they fought and beat the Federation or they lost themselves to eternal slavery. Or death. The Federation would show no mercy, even though the Grand Senate was gone. He laughed at himself inwardly a moment later. The dice had already been rolled. Even if he abandoned the battle without further ado, the Federation would know it had a more dangerous enemy lurking along the Rim.

May God be with us
, he thought, remembering ancestors who had been persecuted for daring to keep their religion.
And may he defend the right.

“Activate Attack Pattern Weber,” he ordered. “Fire.”

“Firing,” Lieutenant Juneau said. The superdreadnaught shuddered as it flushed its giant external racks, then followed up with a broadside from her inner tubes. “Missiles away.”

* * *

“Missile launch,” Palter snapped. “I say again, missile launch!”

For a moment, Roman’s mind refused to accept what he was seeing. The enemy had just wasted thousands of missiles? No, they wouldn’t have fired unless they thought they had a reasonable hope of scoring a hit. And that meant their missiles had to have greater range than he would have believed possible. Maybe they
could
take on the might of the Federation Navy after all.

“Deploy countermeasures,” he snapped. There was no time to simply reverse course, even if he’d known when the enemy missiles would reach burnout and go ballistic. “Launch counter-battery missiles, then prepare to flush our tubes.”