The seconds counted down. And then four drones reappeared on the display.
Four out of seventy, Roman noted. The defenders were clearly on the alert.
“Drone data downloading now,” the sensor officer said.
The main display lit up like a Christmas tree. There were five fortresses guarding the Asimov Point, backed up by a squadron of dreadnaughts and a handful of smaller ships. Roman suspected that it was already too late to preserve secrecy, but if they were lucky...
“The Commodore is launching assault drones now,” the tactical officer reported. “The jump countdown has begun.”
A pair of red numbers appeared in the main display. Roman took a breath, knowing that the defenders would be being hammered by the fury of uncontrolled antimatter. Driving into an Asimov Point was a far cry from the stately space battles he’d fought against pirates and enemy warships; indeed, there was a slight chance that Midway would interpenetrate with one of her sisters and both ships would vanish in colossal fireballs. Even in friendly territory, it still struck him as somehow unnatural.
“Ten seconds,” the helmsman said.
Roman waited, knowing that there was no point in issuing further orders.
“Five seconds...three...two...one...”
The universe lurched around Midway as she jumped into the Hawthorne System.
“Bring up the tactical sensors,” Roman snapped. Without sensors, his ship would be blind and helpless. “Locate the enemy ships!”
He’d hoped that one of the antimatter pods would have taken out a fortress, but he hadn’t been so lucky. The defenders would have been surprised when the first recon drones had appeared within the system, yet they hadn’t let their surprise slow down their response. They’d started launching missiles as soon as the first assault units appeared in their sights, trusting in the minefields to slow down the Federation Navy’s starships as they started to deploy.
“Bring up the point defense datanet,” Roman ordered. The admiral would be designating targets for the cruiser’s missiles. “Lock weapons at the admiral’s command...”
“Weapons locked, sir,” the tactical officer said. “We’re targeting the closest fortress...”
Midway shuddered as she unleashed a full barrage at the enemy fortifications, which returned fire savagely. They’d clearly been modified extensively since the start of the war. Moments later, four assault carriers materialized in the system and immediately launched their starfighters, throwing them out of the ships as fast as possible while the carriers added their missile batteries and point defense to the datanet.
Oddly, Roman realized, the enemy didn’t seem to have any starfighters. Perhaps they’d felt that the system was too remote to rate starfighters. They didn’t have unlimited resources, after all.
Midway rang like a bell as the first enemy missile slammed into her shields, followed rapidly by a second missile. Roman cursed as his ship was blown backwards by the force of the explosion, but the shields held long enough for their comrades to take out the following missiles.
A moment later, one of the enemy fortresses, battered beyond endurance, exploded in a colossal fireball, throwing waves of debris across the system. A second fortress went dark, but the remaining two continued to fight, while the enemy dreadnaughts advanced on the Asimov Point. With the minefields taken out, they could sit on the point and hammer anything that materialized in the area before it could orient itself and open fire.
They were too late. The first giant superdreadnaught materialized in front of them, followed by the remainder of its squadron. Orders were exchanged between the admiral and the commodore in command of the squadron and the massive ships belched missiles towards the two remaining fortresses. As a second and third squadron of superdreadnaughts made their appearance, the enemy diverted their fire from the remains of the assault squadron and concentrated on the giants.
“The third fortress has been destroyed,” the tactical officer reported. “The fourth is continuing to fight.”
Roman scowled. Midway was small fry in such a battle, now that five more superdreadnaught squadrons had arrived. The smart thing for the enemy to do would be to signal up the chain, and then try to surrender. Instead, they were fighting grimly, trying to inflict as much damage as they could before they were killed. It didn’t bode well for the future.
* * *
Magnificent emerged into a universe of fire and rage. Marius had bare seconds to access the datanet and download the tactical situation report before the first missile slammed into the superdreadnaught’s shields. It chilled him to the bone to realize just how close they had come to total disaster. A few microseconds later, and they would have interpenetrated with an armed antimatter missile.
“The enemy dreadnaughts are starting to break off from the Asimov Point,” Blake Raistlin reported. Marius heard the excitement in his voice and wished, for a moment, that he was young again. “I think they’re preparing to run for their lives, sir.”
“Probably,” Marius agreed. It wasn’t something he could allow to happen, either. Luckily, he had two aces up his sleeves. “Detach the fast superdreadnaughts and order them to run the bastards down before they reach the Asimov Point, and then assign two assault carriers to their support.”
“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.
Marius sat back as another missile rocked the superdreadnaught. It was impossible to tell if the enemy had realized that Magnificent was the command vessel, or if it were simple bad luck. No, it had to be the latter; if he’d been able to identify the enemy flagship, he would have engaged her with every missile and beam at his command.
The one remaining enemy fortress was fighting hard, but her shields kept failing and missiles were slamming against her bare hull. She couldn’t last much longer...
The display blinked and cleared, with the icon of the fortress replaced by an expanding icon signifying a cloud of debris. The fortress had oddly refused all offers to accept surrender. Marius doubted that anyone on the fortress had been on the proscribed lists...and even if they had been, they’d only go into exile. He’d shown the universe how merciful the Federation could be at Bester.
He allowed himself to relax as the battle started to draw down to a close. The remaining enemy dreadnaughts were trying to escape now, but they wouldn’t be able to reach the other Asimov Point before they were run down and destroyed. If they kept trying to flee, his starfighters would hammer them into submission; if they tried to fight, his superdreadnaughts would destroy them. He hoped they’d have the sense to surrender before it was too late. There was no point in slaughtering people for nothing.
“Detach a destroyer squadron and a Marine Transport,” he ordered. “I want them to occupy the Hawthorne Orbitals and secure the planet. Inform the planetary government”—such as it was, assuming Admiral Justinian hadn’t replaced the pre-war government with his own men—”that we do not intend to harm them provided they behave themselves. Once the war is over, normal trade can resume.”
“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said. “Sir, the enemy dreadnaughts are surrendering.”
“Good,” Marius said with a nod. “Order the superdreadnaughts to launch Marine parties to secure the ships, then continue on to the Asimov Point. They are to demand the surrender of any further fortifications and secure the Asimov Point itself.”
He turned back to the display and studied it. There hadn’t been any pre-war fortifications on the other Asimov Point, but Admiral Justinian might have changed that during his time as the undisputed emperor of this sector. The Asimov Points toward the Rim were sometimes quite heavily fortified, but sometimes were rarely guarded at all. Hell, they might not even have been charted properly!
It was one of the reasons why the Outsiders were so dangerous. The Federation made navigational data free for all, but the Outsiders had never shared any of their data with the Federation. And with the Survey Service practically moribund, there was little hope of updating charts, let alone placing navigational buoys near
new Asimov Points.
As soon as the battle ended, Marius ordered his ships to rearm from the fleet train before resuming the advance. He’d lost twenty-seven ships in the battle and seventeen more had been damaged, some quite seriously. The mobile repair yards would do what they could before the damaged ships started to limp home (or, if the ship was too badly damaged, hid in the captured system until the end of the war). He was gratified—and somewhat amused—to discover that Captain Garibaldi’s luck hadn’t deserted him. Midway had been hit hard, but her shields had held and she’d barely been scratched.
“Sir, Mohammad and Argus report that they’re ready to rejoin their squadrons,” Raistlin said as the hours wore on. “Harrington’s captain insists that his ship is also battle-ready, but the yard dogs disagree; they want more time.”
“They always want more time,” Marius commented. “Inform Captain Weber that if he trusts his ship is in fighting trim, he may rejoin the squadron. If not, assign him to Commodore Seiko’s command and Harrington can add her fire to her squadron.”
He smiled at the thought. Commodore Seiko commanded the covering force that would escort any damaged warships back to safe harbor. It wasn’t regarded as a prestigious position, but it was a vitally important role. She’d find a superdreadnaught, even a damaged one, very helpful. If nothing else, Harrington could tow some of the cripples home.
“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.
“As soon as we are ready, the Grand Fleet is to advance,” Marius ordered. They’d be advancing blind, again, and this time the enemy would have to know they were coming. If the fortresses hadn’t screamed for help and fired off message drones, he’d be astonished. “We’re going to take them at a run.”
He ran through it again in his head. Assuming that a message had been sent as soon as the recon drones had transited the Asimov Point, it would be nearly two days before Admiral Justinian heard about the advance. If Marius made the further assumption that Admiral Justinian would react at once, it would mean roughly two weeks—perhaps twenty days—before Justinian got a blocking force into position. It would be longer if Justinian had kept most of his fleet facing Boskone or defending Marx, but Marius didn’t dare count on it. The further he got up the chain towards Jefferson, the better.
And what if there was something he’d missed?
He shook his head slowly. His doubts—and doubts were a natural part of such an ambitious operation—weren’t important. All that mattered now was speed—and victory.
Chapter Forty-One
Sun Tzu, thousands of years ago, laid down the basic rules that we still follow today. When an enemy is weak, advance; when strong, fall back. We think of terrain as being Asimov Points, planets and stars, instead of the wily Chinese General’s land and seas, but the principles remain the same.
-Observations on Military Tactics, 3500 A.D.
Jefferson/Lombardi System, 4097
“Shit! They came through the back door. Damn them.”
Caitlin had rarely seen Admiral Justinian so rattled, but the news was shocking enough to worry the strongest of men.
Her commander turned and studied the display. The Federation Navy was—presumably—advancing as fast as possible up the chain towards Jefferson. It would have to punch its way through four Asimov Points to reach the nexus star, but none of them were heavily defended. They certainly wouldn’t be taken by surprise, not once the warning had been passed up the chain, yet it wouldn’t really matter. The Federation Navy wouldn’t have launched such an offensive unless they believed that they possessed a crushing superiority.
“The report was vague as to their strength,” she said, scanning the final sensor readings the destroyer Danton had taken before she’d fled back to Jefferson. The ship’s captain had nearly burned out his drives trying to reach Jefferson before it was too late. The hell of it was that it might be futile anyway. “We only saw forty-odd superdreadnaughts.”
“They’ll have more,” Justinian said, dismissing her optimistic projection. “We need to stop them before they break into Jefferson.”
He was right, she knew. Local commanders would do what they could to parse—and then delay—the full strength of the attacking force before it reached Jefferson, but Caitlin knew that they couldn’t do much. Admiral Drake would hardly repeat the mistakes of the Retribution Force.
Jefferson and its nine Asimov Points served as the nexus for Admiral Justinian’s empire. If the Federation Navy contested the system—let alone captured it—they would break the chains holding the empire together. Some of Justinian’s more reluctant allies would switch sides, his junior commanders might turn into warlords on their own...it would be the end.
They couldn’t allow the Federation Navy into Jefferson.
Admiral Justinian considered the overall picture, thoughtfully. “At least we have the combined fleet in a position to make transit back to Jefferson fairly quickly,” he said.
Caitlin nodded. She’d already sent orders along the ICN to alert the fleet to be prepared to move.
“We bring them back into Jefferson and then advance along the Chain to”—he studied the display, apparently trying to gauge how fast the Federation Navy could move—”Lombardi, I think. I doubt we’ll get much further unless Admiral Drake feels like resting on his laurels.”
“He won’t,” Caitlin said. “He had the imagination to blaze right through Bester...”
“True,” Admiral Justinian agreed. “If we get the fleet into place before the enemy enters the system, we’ll set up a defense on the Asimov Point and stop them cold. If not, we will have to contest the system and force them to assault the other Asimov Point.”
He keyed his console. “In the meantime, I want tugs moving fortresses from the other Asimov Points to the terminus of the Sphinx Chain,” he added. “Even if the fleet fails, we can try to hold the Jefferson System.”
Caitlin considered it.
“It will take weeks to move enough fortresses over to the Asimov Point to make a difference,” she told him. Towing a multimillion ton fortress wasn’t an easy task at the best of times. “We could hold the fleet in Jefferson itself and force them to come to us.”
“Maybe, but we might lose control of the outer system,” Justinian pointed out. “And there is another concern.”
His hands danced over the console. “As you can see, a hostile attacker who takes Lombardi will be able to cross interstellar space and reach Harmony,” he explained. “There’s only forty light years between the two stars and if they secure Lombardi, they don’t need to attack Jefferson at all.”
“Unless they want to link up with the forces defending Boskone,” Caitlin reminded him. “If they opened up the Asimov Point chain for shipping, they could reinforce their fleet remarkably quickly...”
“I know,” Admiral Justinian said. “There’s little else that we can do.”
Caitlin felt a flicker of sympathy, for he was facing the same dilemma he’d inflicted on the Federation. He had too many places to defend, and far too few ships and fortresses to cover them all. Most of his mobile firepower was badly out of position and it would take weeks to concentrate it to reinforce his reserves. A loss now could cost him the entire war.
On the other hand, the Federation had had space to trade for time. Admiral Justinian didn’t have many stars he could trade for time, not now.
He suddenly looked up at her. “I will command the fleet, of course,” he said.
At her concerned look, he added, “It’s necessary. My men need to know I’ll die beside them, if need be.”
She nodded.
“I’ll let my wife know,” he told her. “Then we can depart on the Rampant Lion.”
Caitlin nodded, feeling a second flicker of sympathy. His wife had had dreams of being Empress since the day she’d been old enough to take part in High Society’s endless rounds of social backstabbing, character assassination and metaphorical bloodbaths. The Court she’d set up on Harmony had always amused Caitlin, even though she knew
that Millicent Beauregard-Justinian took it far too seriously. The woman wouldn’t respond well to hearing that she would either have to flee, or be executed by the Senate.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I expected no less of you.”
* * *
Through heroic effort, the main body of the fleet was brought back into the Jefferson System, just in time to hear that another star system had been taken by the advancing Federation Navy. Admiral Justinian waited long enough to make certain of his supplies, and then led the fleet through the Asimov Point and up the Sphinx Chain. If they were lucky, they would intercept the enemy fleet well short of Lombardi and Harmony.
Caitlin tried to convince herself that they were bound to succeed—the last time the Federation Navy had tried to reach Jefferson, they’d been smashed—but no amount of mental argument convinced her that their success was guaranteed.
* * *
Marius watched as tumbling wreckage drifted past his fleet, the remains of a pair of fortresses that had tried to bar the fleet’s passage to Jefferson. Admiral Justinian had left the outdated fortresses in position and all they had been able to do, despite the advance warning of his coming, was die bravely. They hadn’t even surrendered, although he was fairly sure that they’d been damaged and destroyed before their commanders had realized just how badly the odds were stacked against them.
“All ships report that they’re secure, sir,” Raistlin reported. “The Marine unit dispatched to the planet has reported that the planet has surrendered and is awaiting occupation.”
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