“I shall explain,” McGillivray said. “The bonds of loyalty that held the Federation together have been fraying for a long time. The Inheritance Wars inflicted a colossal level of trauma on us, because the Colonial Alliance wanted to be independent of the Federation and that could not be allowed. The Blue Star War damaged the Federation’s sense of unity. And now Admiral Justinian and the other warlords formed their own little kingdoms.”
He shook his head. “Very few people have any loyalty to the Senate. They certainly don’t want to go out and die for the Senate. And who can blame them when it is increasingly obvious that the Senate is a closed world, dominated by a political elite that not only doesn’t care about the people, but is willing to actively harm even those who have worked for them to get what it wants? There is no longer any connection between the ruled and the rulers. We need, somehow, to reawaken the bonds of loyalty.
“We need someone who can serve as the focus of that loyalty. Someone who is respected and—more importantly—trusted by the population. Someone who is canny enough to know what needs to be done, and is willing to cut through the knots that prevent it from being done. How many people do you think have that kind of base to work on? You—just you.”
“You—the Brotherhood—promoted me on Earth,” Marius pointed out dispassionately. “Did you have this outcome in mind from the start?”
“And throughout the Core Worlds,” McGillivray agreed. “We hoped that the rebellious warlords would force the Federation Senate to change or die. They refused to change and, partly because of your heroic efforts, survived the war. If they don’t leave power, soon, they will try to lock down the entire Federation. All the fault lines running through our society will shatter, and the Federation will come apart. The result will be chaos on a galactic scale.”
“And with the Outsiders moving in, the Federation will be vulnerable,” Marius said. He couldn’t deny the Senator’s logic, yet...he didn’t want to be emperor. Perhaps he could hold the position for ten years, and then put it down. “I think...”
“Consider Earth,” McGillivray said, interrupting him. “Why is the population so high? Answer: the Senate feeds the population, allowing Earth to survive with a much greater population than any other planet. What can we do about this? Answer: we can put contraceptives in the state-supplied foods, cutting the birth rate. Why aren’t we doing this? Because the program is blocked in the Senate every time it is suggested.”
Marius had been listening patiently. Now he leaned forward.
“How do they benefit from keeping the birth rate high?”
“They can skim money off the programs to take care of the kids,” McGillivray explained.
He took a breath. “The Conservative Faction wants things to remain exactly as they are,” he said. “They won’t support change for that reason alone. The Socialists believe that they have a duty to help and support people—whether the people actually want it or not—and insist on providing free food and other social programs to the poor. Both factions will block any attempt to actually deal with the problem—and both factions are unwilling to admit that the problem is likely to explode, sooner rather than later.
“We need an emperor to cut through the Gordian knot before the entire Federation comes apart,” he concluded. “Whatever support we can give you—or I, as a Grand Senator, can give you—is yours. All you have to do is declare yourself emperor and take Earth. The Federation will give you a chance.”
“And what if my decision to declare myself emperor isn’t accepted?” Marius frowned.
“Then we’re no worse off than before,” McGillivray pointed out. “The political lassitude that allows the Senate to rule without challenge—to push through useless or actively harmful programs—will work in your favor. You will have a chance, admiral, and I believe that you will succeed.”
“If we win,” Marius pointed out. “We’re not going to challenge the Gateway, Senator, but we will have to face Home Fleet. Or has the Brotherhood subverted the fleet?”
“No,” McGillivray admitted. “We have some people with the fleet, but not enough to subvert it.”
Marius wasn’t surprised. If the Brotherhood had managed to subvert Home Fleet, they wouldn’t have needed Marius and the Grand Fleet. It wasn’t good news, however; Home Fleet didn’t have the experience of the Grand Fleet, but it possessed nearly as much firepower and, if combined with Earth’s orbital defenses, would be a very tough customer.
Marius nodded.
“I understand,” he said. He looked into the Senator’s eyes. “I have to consult with my wife and...advisors. The Marines will escort you to a cabin; I suggest you stay there, at least for the time. Feelings are running high at the moment.”
* * *
“I think it’s a good idea,” Tiffany said, once Marius had outlined the gist of McGillivray’s explanation. “You’d make a good emperor.”
“I don’t want the job,” Marius protested. His dead arm felt heavy as he sat down on the sofa beside his wife. Doctor Yu had told him that his vat-grown arm wasn’t ready for grafting yet and he had no choice but to endure. “It’s a trap.”
“I think that not wanting the job is the first qualification for the job,” Tiffany countered. “And for that matter, I don’t want to be an empress, either. But what does that have to do with anything?” She turned to look up at him. “High Society would accept an emperor, even though they wouldn’t accept an admiral. It also neatly separates your rule from military rule, as an emperor wouldn’t be a direct military ruler. He’d be commander-in-chief, yet a civilian...”
Marius scowled. “Only for ten years,” he said firmly. “We take power, fix the problems on Earth and the Core Worlds, make sure that all worlds are represented in the Senate, and then we resign.”
“You’d have a hell of a time as an ex-Emperor,” Tiffany pointed out. “Where would you go?”
“I’d have the Survey Service reactivated,” Marius said. “I’d write myself a commission as my last official act and go beyond the Rim.”
“I hope it’s that easy,” Tiffany said. She smiled sadly.
Marius smiled back.
“We have to win the coming battle,” he reminded her. “Let’s not count our crowns until they’re on our heads, shall we?”
* * *
Grand Admiral Featherstone’s voice was very calm. Too calm.
“He’s on his way here.”
Grand Senator The Honorable Carlton Brockington prided himself on remaining calm and collected under pressure, even during Admiral Justinian’s attack on Earth. It was, he felt, the very essence of the Conservative Faction. If they refused to panic and considered everything carefully, they could decide how to act—or if they should act at all. Even so, he felt a tremor of panic run through his mind.
“Who’s on his way here?” Grand Senator Alison Wallisch asked Featherstone impatiently. He had been a bipartisan appointment, a man who had never commanded a starship, let alone an entire battle fleet; he’d been appointed because he didn’t have a single disloyal bone in his body. “Who?”
“Admiral Drake, My Lady,” Featherstone said. His hands nervously rubbed together as he spoke. “I received a transmission from the fortresses covering Gotham. Starships positively identified as belonging to the Grand Fleet transited into the system and boarded the fortresses. The last transmission stated that Marine boarding parties were securing the fortresses and that resistance was futile. Admiral Drake forced them to surrender without firing a shot.”
Calm, Carlton told himself. “They didn’t even try to engage him?”
“The Grand Fleet possesses enough firepower to punch through anywhere short of the Gateway,” Featherstone explained. “The fortress commander decided not to sacrifice his men in a futile attempt to delay him.”
“But...but this is disastrous,” Alison said. Her eyes were wide with panic. “What does he want?”
“We tried to kill him,” Carlton reminded her dryly. “What do you think he want
s?”
Featherstone looked blank. “I believe that he will be here within two weeks, perhaps less,” he said. “It depends on the course he takes to reach Earth and if he intends to try to punch through the Gateway. I think...”
“You have to stop him,” Alison snarled. Her voice was breaking in fear. “The entire Federation is at stake, admiral! We have to stop him!”
“We could try to negotiate,” Featherstone said seriously. “Or...”
“There’s no point in trying to talk to the bastard,” Alison hissed. “He’s going to kill us all unless we kill him first!”
Carlton tapped the table and Alison, wonder of wonders, fell silent.
“Admiral, can Home Fleet stop the Grand Fleet?”
Featherstone might not have been a military expert, but he knew the right answer.
“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “Combined with the defenses around the Gateway, there will be more than enough firepower to stop him dead in his tracks.”
“Excellent,” Carlton said. He looked over at Alison. “We can stop one last rebellious admiral, and then we will have won the war.”
“And what if he wins the battle?” Alison didn’t look convinced.
“We’ll have to try to bargain with him.” Carlton shrugged. “Admiral Drake is an honorable man. It should be possible to come to some...arrangement with him.”
* * *
Two hours later, Carlton started to wonder if he’d been wrong. Somehow—and there was no way to know how—the news had leaked to the media despite his order of a complete media blackout. The news was spreading fast; the Senate had ordered the murder of the admiral—a popular hero—and the admiral was on his way for revenge.
The rumors were spreading even faster, ranging from the believable to the absurd. The admiral was dead and his wife was leading the fleet for revenge. The admiral had somehow come back to life and was a zombie, out for revenge. Aliens had invaded the Federation after the admiral’s death and the Senate was fleeing...there was no rhyme or reason to the rumors, but they were spreading right over the planet.
The riots started soon afterward.
The Senate Hall was heavily defended, of course, but the same couldn’t be said for most of Earth’s infrastructure. It wasn’t easy to maintain at the best of times; with an endless series of riots tearing it apart, entire city blocks lost light and heat and power. The police—backed up by the Federation Army and Internal Security troopers—found themselves under siege in their own bases.
When the riots were only a few hours old, the death toll had already passed two million people. How long would it be, Carlton asked himself, before the mob marched on the mansions that housed the political elite?
If we can only beat the admiral, he thought, we could still win...
Chapter Forty-Nine
A fleet, backed up by armed fortresses, is a powerful foe. Military doctrine, therefore, calls for isolating the fleet from the fortresses, by any means necessary.
-Observations on the Navy, 3987
Earth (Sol) System, 4098
Admiral Featherstone knew himself to be a coward. Deep inside, he was ashamed of his weakness, the weakness that had prevented him from graduating from Luna Academy and serving as a proper officer should. His well-connected family and his willingness to sell himself to the highest bidder had ensured a rapid rise to the top of the hierarchy, but he’d always remained in the background. He’d never commanded a fleet in combat and would never have had the chance if Admiral Justinian hadn’t destroyed Navy HQ. It had been sheer luck that Featherstone hadn’t been in the building at the time, and his promotion upward—filling a dead man’s shoes—had seemed wonderful at first. Everyone knew that Home Fleet never saw combat...well, it had seen combat during the first attack on Earth, but what were the chances of that happening again?
He fought hard to keep his expression blank as he sweated inside. Admiral Drake was on his way, with enough ships and experienced crews to take on Home Fleet and win. Featherstone had ordered reinforcements to be summoned as quickly as possible, but his most optimistic estimate was that any reinforcements would arrive in the system after Admiral Drake. Matters weren’t helped by Senators sending him messages at all hours of the day and night, demanding that he use his new position to further their interests. Home Fleet’s current position near the Gateway defenses was a result of one such instruction. Apparently, a number of highly-placed Senators had interests in the Gateway that needed to be guarded.
“Admiral,” a voice said. He turned to look at Commander Farrell, who had been assigned to him as an aide and general assistant. Featherstone knew that the younger man held him in contempt, but—so far—he had refrained from destroying the man’s career. “The survey satellites just picked up a large footprint at the edge of the mass limit.”
Featherstone cursed under his breath, silently damning all Senators to hell. Home Fleet was normally positioned at Titan Base, or near Earth itself, but instead they were caught near the Gateway forts. Featherstone was no tactical genius, yet even he knew that only an insane commander would tangle with those forts if there was any other choice. And the Senate had refused to allow him to position his ships near Earth, where they could fall back on the orbital defenses and boost their firepower by a factor of ten.
“Show me,” he ordered, looking up at the holographic tank. “I suppose there’s no chance that this could be a diversion?”
“Not unless they have a second fleet as large as the Grand Fleet,” the younger man said. His voice was calm and professional, yet Featherstone was sure he heard amusement lurking behind his tone. “They’re not even trying to hide.”
Featherstone took a breath. It had been years since he’d studied a display, and most of his lessons had been forgotten. There was no real-time data on the enemy fleet, but it was clearly heading right toward Earth, unless their commander decided to change course for some reason of his own. Featherstone doubted it. Earth was the key to the Solar System.
“Bring up our drives and plot an intercept course,” Featherstone ordered. At least he could now claim a military emergency as an excuse to avoid reading messages from irate Senators. Even they couldn’t argue with the Grand Fleet bearing down on them. “I want us underway as soon as possible.”
Even as he spoke, he knew it was going to be a tight shave.
* * *
“Launch probes,” Marius ordered. He was the only calm person in the compartment. The remainder of the crew knew they’d crossed a line when they’d followed him back to Earth. “I want a location on Home Fleet, now!”
He’d assumed all along that their journey would be detected and that warnings would be flashed to Earth. If he’d been commanding the defenses, he would have positioned Home Fleet roughly three or four light minutes from the mass limit and gone doggo, stepping down his emissions as much as possible. He knew that anyone who wanted to reach Earth in the shortest possible space of time would have to arrive from a certain direction, and there was no reason why someone else couldn’t draw the same conclusion. Marius had planned on encountering Home Fleet at once and he was mildly surprised, as the probes sped further and further away from the fleet, to find that Home Fleet appeared to be missing.
Earth’s Solar System was the most heavily industrialized in the Federation. Over a period of nearly two thousand years, asteroids had been converted into factories to supply a growing population with whatever it might need. Others had been melted down and turned into starships at the Jupiter Shipyards, or developed into habitats that held huge populations. The gas giants were surrounded by cloudscoop platforms that sucked up gas and converted it into fuel for fusion reactors. And thousands of civilian spacecraft thronged through the Solar System, transporting goods from all over the Federation to Earth. It was an awe-inspiring sight.
There was a chime from the tactical console. “I have a lock on Home Fleet,” the tactical officer reported. “The fleet is positioned near the Gateway.”
“Inter
esting,” Marius commented. “But I imagine they will change position fairly rapidly once they see us.”
It was an odd choice of location. The Gateway was the one place in the Solar System that didn’t need Home Fleet to back up the defenses. Marius himself had supervised the enhancement of the defenses after the first attack on Earth, and any rational admiral would have quailed at the thought of punching through them. The cost would be staggering.
The Sol System was surrounded by a chain of watchful automated platforms, which—by now—would have picked up the Grand Fleet and flashed an urgent warning to Earth. Marius knew that the fleet could probably have slipped in undetected, but he’d deliberately chosen to arrive in style. It was important, McGillivray had assured him, to show that he wasn’t afraid to confront the Senate in their den. Marius had reluctantly accepted the Senator’s advice.
“Admiral, Home Fleet is on the move,” the tactical officer said. A new set of icons appeared on the display. “They’re advancing to meet us at Point Alpha.”
Marius nodded as the icon glittered on the display.
“Continue our present course,” he ordered. “We don’t want to be late for our appointment with Home Fleet.”
* * *
Admiral Featherstone rubbed his tired eyes and then looked around, hoping that no one had seen the brief moment of weakness. If any of the crew had seen, they kept it to themselves.
Home Fleet was blazing across the system at flank speed, hoping to intercept the Grand Fleet before it reached Earth, yet all he could think of was how slow it was, even on an interplanetary scale. At least the Senate’s demands that he immediately engage the enemy had trailed off, once someone on the planet got the facts of basic space combat through a few thick heads. This deep within the mass limit, no starship could pull more than 0.5C. They had to hope that the enemy would be obliging and not pile on extra speed before Home Fleet reached a position that could be used to block the intruders from Earth.
Barbarians at the Gates Page 48
