The Shadow of Cincinnatus (29 page)

“Good,” he said. Allowing General Thorne to build a new security force had caused him some sleepless nights at the time, but it had definitely proved its value. Besides, the Marines were overworked and needed at the front. “And the prisoners?”

“We have fifteen ringleaders in custody,” General Thorne informed him. “The remainder have been interrogated, then released under supervision. They have been warned that they will be expected to give evidence, if necessary. In addition, they have been tagged and will be arrested if they try to leave the settlement.”

Marius nodded. The Grand Senate’s method for dealing with upper-class criminals had its uses, even if it had primarily been abused before the Grand Senate had been destroyed. But then, the Senators hadn’t wanted to be too harsh to their relatives. It would have caused unacceptable levels of blowback.

“We can hold the ringleaders for the moment,” General Thorne added. “But word of what they did is already spreading. We may need to give them a trial.”

Marius groaned. “The last time I gave someone a trial, it was a nasty mistake,” he said. “Have them and their families shipped somewhere safe – somewhere they can’t do any harm. And then have a complete blackout placed on the news.”

“Aye, sir,” General Thorne said. “It will be done.”

And let us hope
, Marius thought,
that will be the end of it.

The trap confronting the Federation could be best described as a man caught between two fires. If he jumped one way or the other, the fire would get him; if he stayed where he was, the fires would eventually kill him anyway. In the end, the Federation could no longer maintain the balance.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Boston, 4100

“Excellent work,” Roman said.

Captain Palter beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

Roman smiled – it was obvious that Palter had expected to get in trouble for having his ship damaged - then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The report was heartening at a time when it was becoming clear that the noose was tightening around Boston and the Outsiders had successfully gained control of three of the seven Asimov Points in the system. They could launch a three-pronged attack at any moment, if they felt inclined to take the risk, or merely launch a massive assault through one of the points. The Blue Star war had exposed the folly of trying to be clever when launching several separate assaults at once.

And it might be the best thing they could do for us
, Roman thought, as he looked up at the display. Red stars surrounded Boston, each one occupied by the enemy. It looked intimidating, even though he knew that most of the occupied systems were irrelevant to the war.
We’d have a chance to smash each of their assaults individually
.

He looked up as Midshipwoman Haze entered the compartment. She looked terrifyingly young – part of his mind insisted she was too young to go to the Academy, let alone serve on a starship – but she was enthusiastic and competent. Besides,
he
could hardly talk about people being promoted young. If it hadn’t been for the war, he’d be lucky to have made commander by now. Indeed, given his lack of political connections, he might well have stayed a lieutenant indefinitely.

“Admiral,” Haze said, “the other admirals are waiting for you.”

“Great,” Roman said, without enthusiasm. They’d be complaining about the lack of formalities, he knew. Before the war, it could take hours to welcome one admiral aboard another’s flagship. Now, he’d cut the formalities out completely. “I’m on my way.”

He took one last look at the display, then turned and walked through the hatch. The flag deck had been expanded to allow for a new briefing room, suitable for senior commanding officers and their staffs. Roman privately disapproved of it – the design came from the Grand Senate – but having some facilities might keep his subordinates happy. They’d be complaining otherwise, he knew, and while Emperor Marius might dismiss their complaints, others might not. He sighed – he’d never realized that being an admiral also meant being a politician – and walked into the briefing compartment. As always, the sheer luxury of the compartment caught him by surprise.

“Ah, Roman,” Admiral Ness said. He sounded suspiciously jovial as he poured himself a glass of expensive wine. “Glad you could join us.”

Roman kept his expression blank as he sat down at the head of the table. The briefing compartment was rated secure, ensuring that no one was allowed to enter without his specific permission. He’d heard complaints, the first time, from officers unused to fixing their own coffee, but he’d ignored them. Honestly, it wasn’t as though pouring coffee into a mug was so difficult. Getting out of bed was harder, he’d told himself after the first set of complaints, and the officers did that all the time.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “We have much to discuss.”

He settled back and surveyed the table. Admiral Ellison Ness was older than him, older than Emperor Marius, with a reputation for being reliable, but lazy. It had worked out in his favor, Roman had to admit, as he’d survived the Grand Senate’s purges and maintained command of his battle squadron. His weakness, Emperor Marius had said in a private letter, was that he had no initiative at all. He would sooner respond to an enemy attack than mount an offensive of his own. And he was so wedded to the idea of precedence that he was mortally offended by the idea of Roman, who was his junior by a good seven decades, being his superior officer.

Beside him, General Yaakov looked grim. He had been an Imperial Marine before transferring to Fortress Command, after suffering nerve damage that had been impossible to fix by the time he’d reached medical help. Elf spoke highly of him – and she was a good judge of character – but there was something about him that bothered Roman. Perhaps it was the awareness that there were injuries that couldn’t be healed, even by the Federation. Yaakov’s scarred face was a warning of what could happen to anyone else, if they got unlucky.

And Admiral Baumann was a total non-entity, her face so bland and colorless that she was almost invisible. She’d spent the Justinian War as a logistics officer, rather than a line officer, and done a good job. But there had been something of a cloud hanging over her after the Grand Fleet had occupied Earth. Roman was surprised she hadn’t been purged, if she’d been untrustworthy; instead, she’d been sent to Boston to handle the logistics. She’d been doing a good job, Roman knew, but he had his doubts. He’d assigned a pair of Marines to keep an eye on her, just in case.

But Emperor Marius vouched for her
, he thought.
I should trust his judgement
.

And then there were the commodores...

It had been a great deal easier when he’d been the only commanding officer in the fleet. Roman sighed, then activated the holographic display. The starchart appeared in front of them, glowing red icons winking into existence, surrounded by tactical notes from recon probes. It wasn’t a reassuring sight.

“Admiral Baumann,” Roman said. “Would you please give us a rundown of the logistic situation?”

Admiral Baumann cleared her throat. “Owing to events in the Core Worlds, we will be unlikely to receive any heavy reinforcements for the next six months,” she said. “Stockpiles of supplies are at sufficient levels, but again, we are unlikely to see any increase in the flow coming here from the Core. In particular, our supply of the newer design of missiles is badly limited...”

Roman nodded as she droned on, cursing the Grand Senate under his breath. If they’d spread missile-production capabilities out a bit more, the fleet wouldn’t be having so many supply problems. And if they’d treated the workers better, perhaps so many of them wouldn’t have signed up with the Outsiders and sabotaged their own workplaces. The thought of losing the war because they ran out of the weapons to fight it was galling, but it was a problem that had to be faced. Logistics, more than anything else, would make or break the war.

“Well, Admiral Baumann has made it quite clear,” he said, once Admiral Baumann had finally finished her report. “We are in some trouble.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” General Yaakov said. His voice was completely unemotional, thanks to the nerve damage he had suffered. “If we lose this system, the Outsiders won’t run into any serious opposition until they reach the Core Worlds.”

Roman nodded. Once Boston fell, once the Outsiders had access to the Asimov Point network that made up the core of the inner worlds, there would be too many angles of attack for them all to be guarded. The Federation Navy would harry them, of course, and try to lure them into ambushes, but they would face the age-old problem of trying – and failing – to be strong everywhere. And some of the inner worlds had industrial bases of their own, as well as rebellious populations. The Outsiders would find themselves growing much stronger as the Federation weakened.

“General,” he said. “What is the security situation here?”

“Acceptable,” General Yaakov informed him. “We have most of the battlestations under our direct command, with the former local defense force crews scattered over the system, once they passed a lie detector test. We weeded out several hundred agents who planned to sabotage the defenses, once the Outsiders launched their attack. For the moment, I’d say we were fairly safe from internal problems, at least in space.

“On the planet, it’s a different story,” he added. “Boston always had a strong pro-Federation party, but some of our security measures have alienated the locals, while the underground has managed to remain hidden. We may have problems if the Outsiders ever manage to take the high orbitals.”

Roman didn’t doubt it. The Outsiders were good at getting their people into place to cause mayhem – and the Federation hadn’t done anything that might have made it harder, like offering concessions to the locals. But Emperor Marius had stood firm against all such demands. The unity of the human race was the Federation’s reason for existence. Nothing, but nothing, could be allowed to threaten it.

A few minor concessions wouldn’t threaten it
, he thought, grimly. But he already knew the emperor wouldn’t agree with him. Too much latitude, in his view, had been granted already.

Roman tapped the table. “This is the situation as I see it,” he said. “We will face a major attack on Boston within the next six months, probably sooner. Does anyone disagree with that analysis?”

No one, not even Admiral Ness, said a word. They’d all seen the reports. The Outsider fleets were massing at a dozen different stars, mustering their forces for an advance that could only be targeted on Boston. Roman knew the assault was coming. The only real question was
how
it would come.

“We cannot afford to lose Boston,” he continued. “Therefore, it is my intention to lure the enemy into a trap.”

He keyed a switch, altering the starchart. The plan had been born in his mind when he’d started looking for a way to strike back at the Outsiders that didn’t involve weakening the defenses of Boston. After some careful thought, he’d brought a handful of analysts into the scheme and ordered them to war game it out in simulations. The good guys had won more often than not.

But anything can happen
, he reminded himself.
No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy
.

It was no comfort, he knew, to realize that the enemy commander probably felt the same way too.

“This is currently termed Plan Omega,” he said. “On the surface, five battle squadrons and escorts will leave Boston with orders to target Goldstone, a world we know to be serving as a logistics hub for the Outsiders. However, we also believe that Goldstone is no longer a priority for them after they captured two Asimov Points that allow them to move supplies down to the front with a reduced chance of interception. They are unlikely to be unduly worried by us attacking the system.”

Admiral Ness leaned forward. “That will take five battle squadrons away from Boston for at least two months,” he objected. “Even following the least-time course, they won’t be back for far too long.”

“Officially, that’s true,” Roman agreed. “And, if we were right about how important Goldstone is to them, the risk would be worth taking.”

He paused. It had taken longer than he cared to admit to find a target that looked reasonable, while offering the enemy the option to disregard the assault, if they saw fit. Anywhere else wouldn’t be reasonable or would be
too
reasonable. But Goldstone fit the bill perfectly.

“You said officially,” General Yaakov said. “Do I assume correctly that you have something else in mind?”

“Unofficially, the battle squadrons will travel to Heart’s Ease and go FTL there,” Roman said. “But instead of heading to Goldstone, they will head to here” – he tapped an icon on the display – “and wait.

“The enemy will not fail to note the departure of the fleet,” he added. “They have too many spies in the system for the fleet’s departure to pass unnoticed. We can make sure that rumors of their destination are spread too. Indeed, as far as everyone outside this room and the analysts are concerned, the fleet’s destination
will
be Goldstone. The enemy will pick up on it and draw their plans accordingly. They will launch their long-awaited attack on Boston.”

“And they’d face a significantly reduced defense force,” Admiral Ness pointed out.”

“No, they won’t,” General Yaakov said. His voice was as unemotional as ever, but his face twitched into a cold smile. “The ships sent to Goldstone will be nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.”

“Correct,” Roman said. “We will trap the enemy fleet and blow hell out of it. If nothing else, we will hold the system
and
give the enemy a very bloody nose for their pains. We will win time for the Federation to get its industrial might into gear and start out-producing the Outsiders, then crush their fleets and invade their space.”

“Assuming they take the bait,” Admiral Ness said. “They might decide to defend Goldstone instead.”