“Understood,” Roman said. There was no point in showing his impatience. No matter what he did, he couldn’t avoid the laws of interstellar warfare, not here. There was no StarCom network to use against his enemy. “Send the signal.”
* * *
Charlie was marginally surprised that his assault force had managed to do as well as it had. Three superdreadnaughts were gone, one had been so badly damaged that it had to retreat and several more were definitely in trouble. But the remainder of the Federation Navy formation, after a brief reorganization, was continuing its advance towards Nova Athena. And he had very little to put in their path before they reached missile range.
“Sir,” Commodore Thayne said, “the starfighters are rearming.”
“Send them out as soon as they’re ready to go,” Charlie ordered, although he knew it would be futile. His crews were tired, while the second strike force was nowhere near as strong as the first strike force. He’d expended all of his antimatter-armed shuttles in the first assault, hoping and praying they would do some damage. And they had, just not enough. “Is there any news from Roebuck?”
“No, sir,” Commodore Thayne said. He’d expressed his horror, loudly, when Charlie had told him precisely what Captain Roebuck had been ordered to do. In a way, it was hard to blame him for being furious. Charlie had effectively ordered a senior politician kidnapped by military forces. And now she was lost. “Their shuttle took off, sir, and then we lost track of them.”
“Fuck,” Charlie swore. Had he sent Chang Li to her death? Or had the shuttle crew simply decided to run silent, despite the risk? There was no way to know. “Keep looking for her, all right?”
“Of course,” Commodore Thayne said. “But I think there are worse problems inbound.”
“I know,” Charlie said. He paused. “Is the Shadow Fleet in place?”
“Not yet,” Commodore Thayne said. “I don’t think it will work...”
“There’s no other cards to play,” Charlie snapped. “As soon as the fleet is in place, Commodore, send the activation signal.”
“Aye, sir,” Commodore Thayne said.
“General,” a younger officer called. “I’m picking up a message from the enemy fleet.”
“Let me hear it,” Charlie ordered.
“It’s going out on all channels,” the officer said. “Everyone will hear it.”
Charlie frowned, then forced himself to listen carefully as the message repeated itself.
“This is Emperor Marius Drake of the Terran Federation,” a voice said. An analyst window popped up in the display, indicating that the voice patterns matched, although it was still possible it had been faked. “Your fleets are unable to defeat us and your fortifications are insufficient to prevent us from invading your world. I call upon you to surrender without further delay. If you surrender now, and hand over your fortresses, planetary defenses and remaining starships without crippling them in any way, we will treat you as POWs under the standard conventions.”
There was a pause. “If you fail to respond, or refuse to accept these terms, we will advance against the planet and take it by force. Prisoners will be considered illegal combatants and treated accordingly. There will be no further warning. You have one hour to respond.”
Charlie thought rapidly as the message came to an end. He couldn’t defend Nova Athena, not now the mobile units had been forced to retreat. But he couldn’t let the computer records fall into enemy hands either. That would do more than anything else to bring the war to an end.
Commodore Thayne looked up at him. “Sir?”
“Send the signal to the Shadow Fleet,” Charlie ordered. “And let us pray it works.”
He gritted his teeth. It wasn’t a bad offer, as surrender offers went. But he simply didn’t trust the Federation to keep its word, not if they were prepared to demand the surrender of computer databases as well as the defenses themselves. They would have no trouble pressing them back into active service, if nothing else. And they’d be able to go through the databases until they found something they could use to lead them to the hidden bases...
I’m sorry, he thought. But I don’t dare surrender.
“Send a second signal,” he added. If the battle was lost, he still had certain duties to ensure the fallout was as limited as possible. “On my command, every database is to be thoroughly purged, then destroyed.”
“There will be nothing left,” Commodore Thayne protested. “All our work...”
“Will be seized by the Federation,” Charlie said. In a way, he was almost relieved he was stuck on Nova Athena. He doubted he would have survived another Board of Inquiry. “All we can do is make sure it doesn’t fall into enemy hands.”
* * *
“They’re launching another flight of starfighters,” Lieutenant Thompson reported. “Our starfighters are moving to intercept.”
“Get the reserve squadrons out as soon as possible,” Roman ordered, grimly. “See how many of the bastards we can kill away from the fortresses.”
He watched as the attack developed. The Outsiders didn’t seem to have evolved their own starfighter doctrine, as far as he could tell; half of their starfighters stayed and duelled with his starfighters, while the others evaded combat and threw themselves on the capital ships, with desperate fury. Dozens died, picked off by point defense or covering starfighters, but others lived long enough to salvo their missiles into their target’s hull. Two more superdreadnaughts shuddered under the attacks, but kept going. Thankfully, the Outsiders hadn’t seen fit to add antimatter warheads to the starfighter weapon systems.
That would have been nasty, Roman thought. The Federation had experimented with the idea, once or twice, but it had always ended in disaster. A single mishap could have blown apart an entire carrier. We would have had real problems if they’d chosen to take the risk.
He pushed the thought aside as the much-reduced flight of starfighters fell back on the planet, leaving the superdreadnaughts behind. It wouldn’t be for long, Roman knew, and then he could start picking apart the planet’s defenses. If, of course, the Outsiders didn’t see sense and surrender.
“There’s still no response, sir,” Thompson said.
“Then we do it the hard way,” Roman growled. The emperor was not going to be pleased. “Prepare to launch strikes against their fortresses, then target the starfighters against their weak points.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
Chapter Forty
The most dangerous moment of any battle is the hour when victory is seemingly within your grasp.
-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199
Nova Athena, 4101
“They didn’t send any response to the surrender demand, sir,” Commander Lewis said.
Marius leaned forward, outraged. If it hadn’t been for Admiral Garibaldi, who had argued there should be an attempt to offer proper treatment to the POWs, he wouldn’t have made the offer in the first place. These weren’t aliens fighting the Federation, or an independent human power; they were rebels and traitors who’d knifed the Federation in the back when it was weakened by six years of brutal civil war. They deserved nothing, but death by airlock. A bullet in the head was too good for them.
And now he looked weak, because he had made the offer, only to see it thrown back in his face.
“Very well,” he said. “Contact Admiral Garibaldi. The battle line is to advance and engage the planetary defenses.”
He glowered at the screen. Normally, perhaps, he would have left the defenses to themselves, after blockading the planet. It would have given him time to claim the rest of the system, then wait patiently for the defenders to surrender. But now he needed to make it clear, to the rest of the damned Outsiders, that he would not tolerate them trying to wage war on the Federation. One example, if sufficiently horrific, would convince the wavering planetary governments to rejoin the Federation without delay.
“And pass a message to the CO of the pacification force,” he
added. “There is to be no mercy.”
* * *
“There must be something we can do!”
“Like what?” Uzi asked. Privately, he was rather enjoying Sanderson’s panic. “Burn up good oxygen by pacing to and fro like a madman?”
“There has to be something,” Sanderson said. “The Federation is winning the battle!”
“So it would seem,” Uzi agreed. “But I think you should remain calm and sit down.”
Sanderson whirled around to face him. “How can you be so calm?”
“Because I know better than to panic,” Uzi said. He cleared his throat, loudly. “Right now, all we can do is wait to see who comes out ahead. I suggest you sit down, take a breath and wait. The outcome will be decided soon enough.”
Uzi smiled inwardly as Sanderson reluctantly followed his advice. The Federation definitely seemed to be winning, which meant he would have a chance to hand Chang Li over to their commander as a prize. She would never have a chance to commit suicide, he was sure; either she would have her implants deactivated, if her captors felt it was worth the risk of trying, or she would be interrogated in more subtle ways. There was no shortage of options.
And all he had to do was wait.
“The timing is appalling,” Roebuck commented. He’d barely said anything since they’d realized their predicament, merely sat at the flight chair and stared through the porthole into interplanetary space. “What the hell do we do if there’s no chance of escape?”
“Blow the shuttle,” Uzi said. “The main power core might be offline, but improvising an explosion won’t be too hard. Or we could simply force open the airlock and vent the atmosphere into space.”
“That would leave bodies behind,” Sanderson pointed out. “There would be evidence of her death.”
“Then think of something else,” Uzi said. “But, whatever you do, don’t actually try it until we know we’re fucked. All right?”
“Yeah,” Sanderson said. “But...”
“Relax,” Uzi urged. “We’re not dead yet.”
Sanderson glowered at him. “What happens to a mercenary after he falls into enemy hands?”
“I dare say I’ll be executed, now,” Uzi said. “Normally, mercenaries serve under the Mercenary Code, which includes bans on taking up arms – directly or indirectly – against the Federation itself. They find me here; they’ll probably shoot me in the head or throw me out the nearest airlock. I’ve crossed the line quite badly since I went to work for you.”
Sanderson’s eyes narrowed. “So why did you come and work for us?”
“The money was good,” Uzi said. He made a show of shrugging, elaborately. “Bad rolls of the dice are inevitable, Peter. You just have to take what you get and run with it.”
“Mercenary,” Sanderson said. He made the word an insult. “Can we really trust you?”
“I’m loyal to whoever pays me,” Uzi said. He smirked to hide his inner alarm. Had Sanderson worked out that Uzi had had ample time to sabotage the shuttle? “Care to join me on the circuit, one day?”
“I believe in the cause,” Sanderson said. He looked down at the sleeping woman. “Can you say the same? Do you believe in anything?”
“No,” Uzi lied. He did believe in the Federation, even though very few people knew just what he’d done to keep the Federation’s citizens safe and warm in their beds. And if the vast majority had known, they would be horrified. “I believe in cold hard cash.”
Sanderson snorted, then turned away from him and stared out the porthole.
Uzi eyed the back of Sanderson’s neck, considering the blow it would take to break it. It wouldn’t be hard, he knew; one blow and Sanderson would be dead. And then Roebuck would be dead too...and he could surrender Chang Li without delay. But he might still need them...
He sighed, then forced himself to wait. There was all the time in the world.
* * *
“We will enter firing range in twenty minutes,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “The enemy defenses have been targeted.”
Roman nodded. Standard procedure when attacking a heavily defended planet was to wipe out the orbital fortresses first, rather than try to land soldiers. The defenders hadn’t fixed any of their fortresses in geostationary orbit, ensuring that several of them would have to be destroyed to prevent them bombarding landed troops from orbit. He was irked, but not particularly surprised, that none of the Outsiders had tried to surrender. There were just too many concerns about how willing the Federation would be to honor its own terms.
“Prepare to engage,” he ordered. He hoped – prayed – that they wouldn’t accidentally hit the planet with an antimatter warhead. Surely, if the Outsiders had any concern for the locals, they would consider surrendering once the missiles started flying. “Order the starfighters to cover the missiles and...”
An alarm sounded. “Sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “I’m picking up...my god!”
Roman switched the display back to the system-wide view. Icons – red icons – had appeared out of nowhere and were heading right towards his ships. The faint fuzz of active ECM shrouded them, but it was clear that they included at least twelve battle squadrons of superdreadnaughts. And the superdreadnaughts that had taken a shot at them earlier were swinging around to link up with the newcomers.
Roman found his voice. “Where...where the hell did they come from?”
“Bella, perhaps,” Lieutenant Thompson said. She sounded as shaken as Roman felt. “They could have traced our course through the Asimov Chain, then sent for help. Bella has an Asimov Point that leads into the Beyond...”
Roman forced himself to think, hard. The enemy fleet...was it real?
It was impossible to be sure. Logic suggested the enemy wouldn’t have withheld those ships from Boston, if they’d existed, but they had definitely sent enough firepower to take the system given what they thought they’d been facing. They’d certainly have refused to surrender Nova Athena if they’d known twelve battle squadrons were rushing to the rescue. And yet...they could have come out of cloak much later, ensuring the Federation Navy ships didn’t have a chance to escape. It might have been a blunder, or it might have been a clever trick trying to pretend to be a blunder.
In the end, the problem was simple. If the fleet is real, continuing the offensive is suicide; if the fleet is fake, the offensive can proceed without delay.
But the only way to test the issue was to attack the enemy fleet...
“Alter course,” he ordered. The planet wasn’t going anywhere – and besides, they needed time to think and plan. He drew out a course on his console, then forwarded it to the helmsmen. “Take us away from the planet.”
* * *
For a long moment, the universe seemed to darken, before it snapped back to normal. Marius found himself gasping for breath, even as the red icons moved closer and closer on the display. Twelve battle squadrons! The enemy had known where they were going and laid a trap, baiting it with a target they knew the Federation couldn’t ignore. Their tactics, in hindsight, made perfect sense.
“Emperor,” Commander Lewis said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Marius snarled at her. The pain in his chest was fading as anger overwhelmed him. He might have to flee the system, but he was damned if he was allowing the Outsiders to claim victory. They’d recover nothing more than ashes by the time he was finished with their damned world. “Raise Admiral Garibaldi.”
Garibaldi’s face appeared in the display – and blinked in shock. Marius ignored the astonishment on his protégé’s face, even as he struggled to speak. His body was betraying him at the very last. But there was no time to summon the doctor, or do anything other than issue orders. He could rest afterwards.
“Admiral,” he said. His voice sounded harsh and broken, even in his own ears. “You are ordered to lock antimatter missiles on Nova Athena and fire.”
There was a long pause. “Emperor,” Garibaldi said. “Are you ordering me to bombard the planet?�
�
Oddly, being questioned made Marius stronger. “Yes,” he said. “You are to fire a full spread of missiles at the planet. Now.”
* * *
Roman had feared...something...from his mentor, although he couldn’t have said if he was scared of him or scared for him. The change in Marius Drake was just too great for him to ignore. But...but he’d never anticipated an order to commit genocide...
...and it would be genocide, he knew. A single antimatter warhead striking the planet’s surface would be a nightmare. Three or four would be utterly lethal. Anyone who survived the first strikes would die within weeks as the skies darkened, debris fell from high above and radiation oozed over the planet’s surface. It would be the end of billions of lives. No one, not even the Federation at its height, could have saved even a tiny percentage of the planet’s population.
He couldn’t do it. Whatever the cost, he couldn’t do it.
“Sir,” he said. “That would be an illegal order...”
The emperor’s face purpled. “Are you refusing my orders?”
Roman understood, suddenly, just how Blake Raistlin’s defense had worked. Was an order, no matter how horrific, actually illegal if it came from the wellspring of all authority? And Marius Drake had effectively taken the Grand Senate’s place. He was the source of authority now...
“Sir,” Roman pleaded. He’d killed before, hundreds of crewmen died when even a small destroyer was blown into plasma, but this was on a far greater scale. It was wrong. “You cannot order the deaths of billions of innocent civilians.”
“That is an order,” Marius snapped. “You will do as I command!”
Roman gathered himself. “It is madness,” he said. Professor Kratman had been right, only Roman had been too loyal to see it. “I will not be party to genocide...”
The connection broke.
* * *
Marius stared at Garibaldi in absolute disbelief, then hit the switch to break the connection before he exploded with rage. How dare Garibaldi defy him? Hadn’t it been Marius who’d promoted him, forgiven him for keeping Henrietta Beauregard-Justinian’s presence a secret and eventually given him command of his own fleet? Roman was almost a son to Marius – and he’d betrayed him! How could he?
The Shadow of Cincinnatus Page 39
