The Shadow of Cincinnatus

by Nuttall, Christopher

  “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.”

  “In which case they will be unable to assault Boston,” Roman countered. “We might not have the chance to smash their fleet, Admiral, but we would have time to keep strengthening our own defenses. Time, if our agents are to be believed, is not on their side.”

  “It isn’t on ours either,” General Yaakov grumbled.

  “We could lose everything,” Admiral Ness objected. “The timing could be screwed up...”

  “Yes, it could,” Roman agreed. On the surface, the plan lacked any adherence to the KISS Principle – Keep It Simple, Stupid. But he’d worked through it with the study team, eliminating as many problems as they could. At worst, the fleet he dispatched from Boston would spend two months lurking outside the system for nothing. “But we are short on options.”

  “I cannot believe the emperor would approve a plan that involves daring the enemy to attack you,” Admiral Ness continued. “I believe a full Council of War should be called...”

  Roman slapped the table, hard. Now, he understood why Admiral Ness had never been considered a th
reat. The man didn’t have the drive to be a warlord in his own right, let alone an emperor. He’d been considered safe...but, right now, safe was the last thing the Federation needed.

  “A council of war is only required when there is no designated senior officer,” Roman said, sharply. They were also called when the senior officer needed to cover his ass, but he kept that thought to himself. The plan was his and he would bear the blame, if any, for its failure. Given what was at stake, he could hardly blame the emperor for ordering Roman shot if the plan failed spectacularly. “I am the senior officer in this system and I intend to put this plan into action.”

  He took a breath. “Besides, the emperor is a skilled officer in his own right,” he added. “I am sure he would approve the plan.”

  “Then ask his approval,” Admiral Ness said. “Send a message requesting permission to proceed.”

  Roman met his eyes. “How long does it take to get a message from here to Earth? And to get a reply?”

  “Four months,” Admiral Ness said. “Assuming there are no delays...”

  “Precisely,” Roman said. “By the time we obtained the emperor’s approval, the Outsiders might have already launched their assault on Boston. We have to move now or remain here, fists bunched, waiting for the inevitable attack. And that attack will be launched at a time and place of the enemy’s choosing! We need to recover the initiative and we need to recover it now!”

  He paused, watching Admiral Ness to be sure the message was sinking in. It was quite likely the bastard would send a message back to the emperor anyway, expressing his concerns...or he might not, knowing that he would look stupid – at best – if Plan Omega succeeded and the Outsiders took a beating. And besides, if the plan failed, they would probably all end up dead.

  “As far as everyone else is concerned, we will be attacking Goldstone,” he said. “Commodore Lopez” – he nodded towards the silent officer – “will take command of Task Force 5.2, which will be charged with carrying out the assault. The battle squadrons need some reorganization, which will serve as an excuse for leaking the target. I’ll have sealed orders prepared for your subordinates, which will be opened as soon as the fleet departs Heart’s Ease.”

  “Yes, sir,” Commodore Lopez said. He was a tall officer, only a year or two younger than Roman. And he’d served well in the Justinian War. “When do you want us to depart?”

  “Ideally, within two weeks,” Roman said. “The haste will provide another excuse for leaks, I hope.”

  “Or they may feel you’re overdoing it and suspect a trap,” Admiral Ness said.

  “They’ll see the fleet depart,” Roman said. There were just too many freighters, mining stations and other settlements within the system for his peace of mind. One or more of them would definitely be keeping the system under observation, assuming the Outsiders didn’t have a recon squadron specifically dedicated to Boston. It was what he would have done. “And, at that point, they will have a chance to decide if they want to cover Goldstone or attack Boston.”

  He smiled. The Outsiders had the advantage of internal lines; if they believed the attack on Goldstone was real, they could muster forces to block it quicker than Commodore Lopez could reach the system. They’d have plenty of time to make up their minds. But if they wanted to attack Boston instead, they’d never have a better chance. Goldstone was utterly immaterial compared to Boston.

  “I expect the true objective to remain a secret,” he warned, as he rose to his feet, “We cannot afford a leak.”

  And I will know, he added silently, which one of us spilled the beans.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  One must remember that the Federation’s idea of a fair trial was not, by any definition of the term, actually fair.

  -The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Earth, 4100

  “Well,” a voice said. “This is a bit of a cock-up, isn’t it?”

  Lucy looked up. She had no idea how long she’d been in the dark cell, naked, alone and very afraid. They’d fed her once, a bowl of something soft she wouldn’t have fed to a cat, and she’d dozed off shortly afterwards. It hadn’t occurred to her that the food might have been drugged.

  She had to cover her eyes against the glare from outside. “Who...who are you?”

  “I’m the only friend you have,” the man said. He stepped into the cell, allowing her to see him properly. “Right now, you’re in very deep shit.”

  Lucy gathered herself as best as she could. Somehow, it seemed pointless to cover herself, after the very thorough search she’d been forced to endure. The man didn’t even seem to look at her properly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly above her head. She wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at kindness, however misplaced, or a gesture of contempt. There was no way to know.

  “I want to speak to a lawyer,” she said. “I have a right to speak to a lawyer.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t true for anyone held under emergency powers,” the man said. He stepped to one side, then held out a hand. “Would you please come with me?”

  Lucy eyed him darkly as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. Her entire body felt weak; even if she’d been able to overpower him, she had a feeling there was no way out of the complex. Outside, the walls were gunmetal grey, solid metal. There was no sign of anyone else, not even other prisoners. And, when she listened, she could hear nothing apart from a rattling old air recycler. It was not a reassuring sound. By the time they reached a small office, she was thoroughly unnerved.

  “Please, take a seat,” the man said. He waved to a stool in front of a metal table, then walked around it and sat down. Once Lucy had sat, he reached into a drawer and recovered a terminal. “There are some documents here. I want you to be reasonable and sign them.”

  “I’d like to read them first,” Lucy said. She knew the dangers of signing anything without reading it first. “If I can...”

  She paused. “And what is your name?”

  There was a flicker of hesitation. “You can call me Dan,” the man said, finally. He passed her the terminal, then looked into her eyes. “I suggest you sign them now.”

  Lucy read through the document, page by page. It was horrifyingly simple; she confessed to having deliberately slowed production, an act of treason when the Federation was at war, fighting for its life. The final page was nothing more than heartfelt begging for her life in florid tones. If she hadn’t been in jail, she would have found herself unable to believe that anyone would beg for mercy like that. But maybe it happened anyway...

  “I’m not going to sign this,” she said. “We didn’t have a choice...”

  Dan held up a hand. “Let me be blunt,” he said. “You were caught in the act of outright sabotage, no matter the words you use to justify it. We have enough evidence against you to skip the trial and move directly to the sentencing. You will be found guilty and, because this is a case of treason, you will face the maximum penalty. Do you know, incidentally, what the maximum penalty is in cases of treason?”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “You will be killed, of course,” Dan said, “but it doesn’t end there. Your family will be killed as well, just for daring to know you.”

  “My kids,” Lucy said. “You can’t kill them!”

  “It is the fate reserved for traitors,” Dan said. “Your kids are young. The emperor may commute their sentences to life imprisonment, or exile to a colony world so primitive that they think stardrives are nothing more than the products of over-simulated imaginations. I would prefer not to think about what would happen to young boys, out along the Rim. Even if they find a decent foster family, they will never have a chance to be anything more than dirt poor.”

  “You bastard,” Lucy said.

  Dan didn’t bother to deny it. “You have to make a choice,” he said. “Sign the confession and you – along with your family – will have your sentence commuted to lifetime exile. You’ll spend the rest of your life on a colony world, but you’ll b
e alive and living with your family.”

  “You just made it sound so attractive,” Lucy snarled.

  “Oh, it is,” Dan said. “You’ll be going as colonists, you see, not indentured criminals. You will have a chance to live your life...”

  He paused, then met her eyes. “Or you will spend the next few days in this complex, then you will be executed,” he added. “There will be no escape, no last-minute reprieve. Sign the confession or die, along with your family.”

  Lucy forced herself to think. She’d never really thought what could happen to her if she ran afoul of the security forces, not even when the Grand Senate had been tightening its grip on society. Now, she was naked, alone and facing death...and her family was facing death beside her. The thought of her two little boys being hung was horrific, but so was the thought of them being exiled to the Rim, without her. There were rumors about what happened to children on the Rim. She’d always assumed they were lies, but Dan’s words gave them a sudden – terrifying – credence. What if they were...?

  Dan watched her, emotionlessly. Somehow, that was worse than having him leer at her body, or even force himself on her. And he could have, she knew. To him, she was nothing more than a piece of meat; no, less than a piece of meat. She wasn’t really human. He could do anything to her, undeterred by anything resembling a conscience. And he could do the same to her children, or to her husband.

  She took the terminal, paged back to the start, and signed her name.

  “Thank you,” Dan said. There was a glimmer of amusement in his voice. “Now, you have to record a message.”

  Lucy looked down at the table, broken. “A message?”

  “A message,” Dan said. His voice hardened. “One to be broadcast everywhere. And do try to make it sound convincing.”

  * * *

  “Only two of the strikers held out,” General Thorne said. “I believe we can simply exile or execute them now. The remainder have already signed the confessions.”