Marius studied the display. He’d had to use all of his clout to get the anti-starfighter cruisers into production, fighting against an entrenched design bureaucracy, but it had been worth it. Half of the enemy starfighters had been destroyed before they had a chance to launch their missiles. And he knew that Justinian’s fleet would have to strip away the Grand Fleet’s cruisers first, before Justinian’s men could even try to take out the heavier ships. That should give Marius time to act.
“They don’t have much of a choice,” Marius reminded him dryly. “Send a general signal to all ships; fire at will.”
Magnificent shook violently as she flushed her external racks toward the enemy ships. Every other superdreadnaught in the formation followed her lead, launching their own missiles to strike at the enemy in the wake of the starfighter assault. Hundreds of thousands of missiles flew at the enemy ships, which were grossly outnumbered by Marius Drake’s own forces.
Admiral Justinian’s forces returned fire at once, flushing their own external racks to prevent the missiles from being destroyed or detonated by incoming fire, adding thousands of icons to the display. It was the greatest single number of missiles in action that Marius had seen during his long career, although he’d read that some of the battles during the Inheritance Wars had involved more missiles and superdreadnaughts.
Admiral Justinian’s researchers hadn’t been entirely idle, he realized, as the recon drones he’d launched with the missiles started to report back. They didn’t seem to have the rumored miniaturized FTL communications system that the Senate had believed—or feared—Justinian possessed, but their ECM was greatly improved. A hundred phantom superdreadnaughts and carriers shimmered into view, tricking hundreds of missiles into wasting themselves on nonexistent targets. Their ECM was actually better than the ECM the ships of the Grand Fleet carried. It wasn’t good enough to fool recon drones or shipboard sensors, but it was more than good enough to fool the tiny missile seeker heads.
He allowed himself a cold smile as the missiles entered terminal engagement range and roared down on their targets. With so many missiles, he’d had the luxury of spreading his fire over every enemy superdreadnaught and carrier, capital ships already weakened by the starfighter pass that had left nine superdreadnaughts and a dozen carriers nothing more than burning debris. Justinian would have to defend all of his ships or risk losing them, which weakened his defense still further.
Marius smiled. Vaughn had taught him an old Marine proverb—he who would be strong everywhere is strong nowhere—and it applied, even in space warfare.
“We’ve taken out at least thirty ships,” Raistlin reported. “Nineteen more have been badly damaged...”
The intercom blared a warning. “All hands, brace for impact; I say again, all hands...”
Magnificent shook violently, twice. Red icons flared on the damage control screen, then faded as the computers realized that the ship wasn’t badly damaged.
Marius muttered a curse under his breath as he realized that other ships hadn’t been so lucky. Five superdreadnaughts were gone, while General Sampson had been blown out of formation and was now streaming air as her crew fought desperately to save the ship. It was too late; before her captain could issue the order to abandon ship, her fusion plant blew and she vanished inside a ball of expanding plasma.
A number of the anti-starfighter cruisers had been destroyed as well, he saw. The enemy had either decided to take them out prior to hammering the superdreadnaughts or they’d simply been picked at random by missile brains. No one would ever know for sure.
“Minor damage to sections 4623G and 4878F,” the damage control officer reported to the captain.
Marius overheard the transmission through the datanet and allowed himself a moment of relief. Magnificent could still fly and energize a beam. With the two fleets converging, they would be entering energy range shortly...and then the real slaughter would begin.
“Signal to all ships,” he ordered the ops officer. “I am hereby authorizing rapid fire. I say again, rapid fire.”
“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.
A dull thunder could be heard, even within the flag bridge, as the superdreadnaught switched to rapid fire, launching missiles in sprint mode. Justinian’s men would find it much harder to intercept them before they reached their targets, although the targeting wouldn’t be so accurate.
“Sir, Admiral Mason is asking for orders,” Raistlin informed him.
“Tell him to concentrate on the enemy carriers,” Marius said with a nod. “The superdreadnaughts are to continue firing on the enemy superdreadnaughts.”
Most of Admiral Justinian’s carriers had been taken out, leaving Justinian with only a handful of ships that were able to rearm their starfighters. Once the rest of them were taken out, the enemy starfighters would be deprived of a base. They’d be fucked, completely. And then they’d have no choice, but to surrender—or die.
He kept his face impassive as two of his superdreadnaughts exploded in quick succession. And then Admiral Rodney died when a missile pulsed through her shields, speared through one of her fusion plants and detonated the antimatter warheads in her magazines. Admiral Yamamoto staggered out of formation, seemingly unhurt, but something had blown inside her hull; she vaporized. He barely noticed the death of the battlecruiser Triumph or the heavy cruiser Kimball Kingston. When superdreadnaughts were dying, each one taking over three thousand trained spacers and officers with her, the lighter ships seemed like small change.
“Arunika,” he said, keying his wristcom, “have you located the enemy flagship?”
“Negative,” Arunika said. “The enemy have their datanet locked tight.”
Marius doubted that it would be easy to locate Justinian’s flagship, so they’d just have to hope they destroyed her soon. The only proof he had that the enemy flagship was still intact was that their formation hadn’t shown any signs of panic or disintegration. Even under the best of circumstances, transfer of command wasn’t easy—and the middle of a battle was hardly the best of circumstances. The chaos that had followed Admiral Parkinson’s death bore mute witness to that.
“Understood,” Marius said, breaking the connection. He looked over at Raistlin, who was obviously waiting for orders. “Tell all ships to continue firing.”
* * *
Rampant Lion screamed as another missile slammed against her shields and raw energy burned through to her hull. The admiral’s flagship had led a charmed life, almost, until now. With the escorting carriers gone and most of the smaller ships destroyed in the crossfire, the remaining superdreadnaughts were almost alone.
Caitlin looked over at Admiral Justinian. She wondered if he realized that the battle was lost. Charging into the teeth of the enemy formation, energy weapons blazing, would inflict vast damage, but it would also lead to the complete destruction of his fleet.
“Pull us back from the enemy fleet,” Admiral Justinian ordered finally. His voice held the bitter tinge of defeat. “Order the remaining starfighters to cover our retreat.”
Caitlin knew that the admiral now realized that his fleet had been savaged and that he wouldn’t have much chance to extract even the surviving units from the disaster, and that was good. But the math didn’t add up. They would have to alter course and head to the mass limit, as they’d never make it back to the Asimov Point, and flee to Harmony with a much larger fleet snapping at their heels. This did not seem like sound strategy, especially as it reminded her of the Battle of Jefferson…except back then, they’d forced the Federation lickspittles to flee. Now the boot was on the other foot and she didn’t like it.
The superdreadnaught rocked again as another missile slammed through her shields. A second later, a dull thud echoed through the ship, a harbinger of doom. Caitlin didn’t need the brief report from damage control to know that they’d just lost one of the drive compartments. The superdreadnaught could no longer accelerate to her full speed, which left her helplessly trapped within enemy missile range
. It wouldn’t be long before the enemy fleet blew the cripple into plasma, or attempted to force her to surrender.
And Admiral Justinian could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands.
“Admiral,” she said, checking her console, “the Apollo is within range for a transfer...”
“I’m going to die with my ship,” the admiral said firmly. “I will not leave her.”
“Admiral, you are the face of the movement,” Caitlin said sharply. “If you die here, the cause ends. You have to survive. Once you leave this ship, the remaining cripples can surrender in good conscience while the intact ships escape to the mass limit and vanish.”
Her logic was impeccable, but Admiral Justinian continued to hesitate.
Caitlin couldn’t wait any longer. Hoping he’d forgive her for this someday, she drew her stunner from her belt and stunned him before he could object. He’d be furious when he awoke, perhaps even order her execution, but at least he’d be alive.
And the cause wouldn’t die with him.
“Take him down to the shuttlebay and order them to transfer him to the Apollo,” she ordered the admiral’s personal guards curtly. Surprisingly, they didn’t shoot her; they simply nodded as one, then grabbed the admiral and got him out of there.
Caitlin sat down in the command chair with her stunner on her lap and watched the battle. Nearly half of the remaining ships were too badly crippled to hope of escape, even if the enemy stopped firing and let them go. And that wasn’t going to happen.
Her console buzzed.
“This is Shuttlebay One,” Lieutenant Gomez said. “The admiral is on his way.”
Caitlin watched the tiny shuttle as it fled towards the Apollo, praying that no marauding starfighter would intercept and destroy the shuttle. They were in luck. The battlecruiser picked up the shuttle, then turned to flee.
Godspeed, admiral, she thought. And pull a rabbit out of your hat once you get to Harmony. You’re going to need it.
Caitlin keyed her console and started to issue orders, all in the admiral’s name. The intact ships were to go to full military power and attempt to escape, while the cripples would cover them as long as possible before surrendering.
And then a second direct hit on her ship took out the remaining drive units, leaving the ship a drifting wreck. She watched the tactical display, eyes fixed on the Apollo, silently urging it to escape the system. Once she saw it safely beyond the mass limit, she turned to her communications officer.
“Raise the Federation Admiral. Inform him that we would like to surrender.”
Chapter Forty-Four
It is a curious artefact, caused by the idiosyncratic warp and weft of the Asimov Point Chains, that your enemy may be on the end of a shorter communications and supply line than your own. Consider, for example, the case of the Buckhannon Campaign during the Inheritance Wars. It took the Federation months to send a message from one front to another; the Colonial Alliance could do it in a week.
-Observations on Military Tactics, 3500 A.D.
Lombardi/Harmony System, 4097
Captain Caitlin Bowery was a very small woman, Marius thought, as she was escorted into his presence by two hulking Marine guards. Indeed, she looked almost child-like, although that meant nothing in a universe where people could alter themselves to fit any desired form. There was no mistaking the intelligence and determination in her eyes, however, nor the trepidation in her body language. The Marines hadn’t cuffed her, but she obviously knew she was a prisoner.
“Welcome aboard,” Marius said. He’d invited Vaughn and Tiffany to the meeting, while Williams had insisted on coming along. “I am sorry that we must meet under such circumstances.”
“So am I,” Caitlin said. She had a rich, warm voice that reminded him, just a little, of his sister. He felt an odd surge of warmth towards her. “Please allow me to congratulate you on your victory.”
He heard the bitterness in her tone and nodded.
“I understand from your crew”—of course, Vaughn’s Marines had interrogated the superdreadnaught’s bridge crew—”that Admiral Justinian made his escape, with a little help from you. You’ll be pleased to know that his battlecruiser and a number of other ships made it over the mass limit and vanished.”
“I made sure he’d get away,” Caitlin said. Her voice hardened. “What—exactly—are you going to do with my crews?”
Marius frowned. It was clear that she believed that her life was already lost to her. Why?
“We won’t do anything to the vast majority of your crewmen,” he said. He was tempted to point out that they were, in fact, Admiral Justinian’s crewmen, but decided that would be pointless. “They will be held until the end of the war, then most of them can be discharged from the service. There would be little point in prosecuting them. As Admiral Justinian refrained from war crimes, or acts forbidden by the Articles of War...”
“Apart from mutiny and barratry, of course,” Caitlin pointed out sourly.
“I believe that there is little point in holding them for trial by a war crimes tribunal,” Marius concluded, ignoring the interruption. “They will be required to give a full account of their service under Admiral Justinian. If we discover that they have lied to us, we may reopen the question of their future standing, but I do not think they will be exiled.”
He looked into her quiet brown eyes, wondering what she was thinking. “As for you, I would like you to perform a service for us. If you carry out our request, you will be granted exile or, better yet, a full pardon.”
Caitlin made a show of studying his face.
“And what if I believe that you don’t have the authority to make such an offer?”
“I have a document from the Senate granting me wide leeway in dealing with prisoners,” he said with a smile. “I can certainly recommend that they pardon you, but I can certainly offer internal exile as opposed to immediate execution. I can show you the document if you like...”
“No, thank you,” Caitlin said. She hesitated. “What do you want me to do?”
Marius keyed his console. A star chart shimmered into existence.
“Admiral Justinian and his remaining ships have fled to Harmony, we believe,” he said. He watched her closely, but she had her expression under tight control. Doctor Dunwoody had confirmed that she had security implants that would probably kill her if she was interrogated under truth drugs or torture. She’d probably been given them when she had become Admiral Justinian’s flag captain. “We want to put an end to this as quickly as possible...”
“You want me to talk him into surrendering,” Caitlin corrected flatly. “What makes you think he will listen to the person who booted him off his own ship?”
“Let me put it like this,” Marius said. “The Senate wants this to end quickly. If we can convince Justinian to surrender, the war will be over and normal trade can resume. We could take out Harmony and end the war that way, but that would cause thousands of additional, unnecessary deaths. I am empowered to make Justinian the same offer as I made you; if he surrenders, he will receive exile instead of death—and hundreds of thousands of people will live.”
“And you’re just going to let me go back to him?” Caitlin stared at him.
“We’ll give you your parole,” Marius said. “If you swear not to take up arms against us, we will release you when we enter the Harmony System.” He frowned. “But should we catch you fighting us in the future, we’ll execute you on the spot.”
“I can’t promise anything,” Caitlin said, finally.
Marius nodded, impatiently. He’d expected that.
“But if you wish me to try to convince him to surrender, I will do so,” Caitlin finished.
“That suits me,” Marius said. He looked up at the guards. “Escort Captain Bowery to her quarters; keep her under guard.”
“Aye, sir,” the Marine said.
The hatch had barely closed behind the women and her guards when Williams started to froth at the mouth.
“Admiral,” he said, so quickly that the words started to blur together, “the Senate will not be happy at the thought of letting the bastard go free.”
“Exile is not the same as going free,” Vaughn rumbled, his deep voice echoing through the compartment. “He will remain on one world for the rest of his life under permanent supervision by security forces. It may be a comfortable prison, but it will still be a prison. He won’t be allowed to leave, ever.”
“The fact remains,” Williams began, “that you are offering him...”
“Enough,” Marius said quietly. “Our objective is to put an end to the war as soon as possible. If offering Justinian exile instead of a bullet in the back of the head succeeds in ending the war, we will accept it and be glad. And besides, this way we take all of Harmony’s industrial plants and workers—enough to please your masters, surely?”
Williams flushed. “Admiral...”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Marius promised. “Now, I have to contact Captain Garibaldi and inform him that he’s going to play messenger boy again.”
Williams took the hint and stormed out of the compartment.
Marius and Vaughn exchanged a long look, then Vaughn and Tiffany followed the Political Commissioner through the hatch. Marius allowed himself a tired smile, keyed his console and issued orders to Midway, and then headed over to check on the reports from the replenishment teams. The fleet train had entered the system after the battle was won and had immediately started reloading ships and arsenals. Marius had warned them that they might be departing for Harmony within a day, so they were now trying to determine how many ships could be repaired on the spot, and how many needed to be sent back to a shipyard.
His intercom buzzed forty minutes later.
“Admiral, Captain Garibaldi is requesting a personal meeting,” Raistlin said. There was no hint in his voice that he knew the captain personally, although Marius privately suspected that his young aide was jealous. His father’s influence had seen him appointed to a prestigious post that was dangerous, but without the chance to win glory. “He says that it’s urgent.”
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