The Shadow of Cincinnatus Read online

  “Message sent,” Palter said.

  “Good,” Roman said.

  The enemy starfighters plunged into his starfighters...and immediately revealed one weakness. Roman’s pilots were veterans, survivors of the Justinian War; the Outsiders had only trained in simulations, as far as he could tell. They were good, Roman admitted privately, but they didn’t have the edge that only came with experience. It didn’t seem to help that half of their pilots seemed more intent on fighting one-on-one with the Federation’s starfighters than actually pressing the attack against the fleet.

  Odd, he thought. We haven’t permitted dogfights like that since we worked out tactics for starfighters that actually worked.

  But hundreds of enemy starfighters broke through and threw themselves on the fleet, ducking and weaving as they entered point defense range. Dozens died as the fleet’s experienced defense systems picked them off, but hundreds survived to launch their missiles into the fleet’s formation. Roman cursed under his breath as three superdreadnaughts staggered, taking heavy damage from the missiles, but somehow remaining intact. Patton was almost certainly doomed, he suspected, as her drive compartments had been badly damaged, yet the other two might make it out. But they’d be in the yards for years.

  “The enemy starfighters are breaking off,” Palter said. “I...”

  He paused. “Sir, correction. A third of the enemy starfighters are breaking off.”

  Roman frowned. The remaining enemy starfighters were still duelling with his starfighters, even though there was no longer any point in keeping them occupied. It made no sense. If the starfighter pilots had been roughly equal, the Outsider advantage in numbers might have made the gambit worthwhile, but the pilots weren’t equal. And now that a third of the enemy starfighters had pulled back to their carriers, it gave the Federation the advantage. It definitely made no sense.

  He shook his head. There was no point in worrying about it, not now.

  “Continue on our present course,” Roman ordered. So far, the enemy didn’t seem intent on launching another missile barrage, but that would change soon. They’d need to cover their starfighters for the next offensive. “And tell the fighter jocks to pick off as many of the bastards as possible.”

  He felt a savage flicker of satisfaction as two more icons vanished in quick succession. They’d lost the battle – he was realistic enough to know that they’d lost – but at least they’d clawed the enemy before they fled. And, whatever had gotten into the enemy pilots, it had cost the Outsiders dearly. Their confidence would be badly shaken. But what had caused it?

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  * * *

  Charlie would gladly have strangled the High Lord – or any other glory-seeking Marsha meritocratic aristocrat – if he’d been in reach. They’d gone over the plan for engaging the Federation Navy time and time again, but the moment the starfighters had actually encountered the enemy they’d slipped right back into terminally stupid mode and attacked the Federation’s starfighters as individuals. They hadn’t even given a damn for their wingmen, let alone the rest of the formation; they’d just lashed out at their targets, allowing the more disciplined Federation pilots a chance to swing the balance in their favor.

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said, “our fighters are rearming.”

  Our fighters, Charlie thought, angrily. Or what’s left of them.

  It should have been a relatively straightforward mission. Blow though the defenders, salvo missiles at the superdreadnaughts, then get out again. But the Marsha pilots had blown it, simply by living true to their code. Charlie mentally composed an angry message to the High Lord as he looked up at the display. The worst of it was the pilots who might have learned better were being picked off, one by one, as the Federation Navy took advantage of their weaknesses.

  “Prepare them for a second round, then recall the Marsha,” he ordered, although he had little hope that the order would be obeyed. The Marsha truly had no idea how to fight as part of a much larger force. Left to themselves, he suspected, they would never have produced anything larger than a destroyer, for fear that serving on the lower decks would deny them honor. “Tell them they have to rearm.”

  He cursed them again as the message went out. Even if they saw sense and obeyed orders, they’d still lost far too many starfighters. The Federation ships would have a chance to wipe out the next attack force, rather than just try to beat it off. Once again, Murphy had reared his ugly head at the worst possible moment.

  “The message was not acknowledged,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

  Charlie gritted his teeth. Any Marsha commander who was disobeyed had the option of simply beheading his subordinates. It was stupid and wasteful, Charlie had thought when he’d first heard of it, but now he thought he understood. A successful bout of disobedience, even for reasons the Grand Senate would have accepted, was a stab against the officer’s honor. But he had no intention of beheading any of the pilots...no, that wasn’t true. He’d be quite happy to behead the idiots who thought that single combat in space, against more experienced pilots, was a clever idea.

  But that would probably be taken as a breach of the treaty, he thought. We need to find them some suicide missions instead.

  Gritting his teeth, he swung round to face the status display. The planetary occupation fleet was on its way and it was unlikely the Federation fleet would be able to intervene. That left them with only the planetary defenses to contend with and, although the last report was several hours out of date, it didn’t seem as though the defenders had managed to pull themselves back together. Once Athena was occupied, the natural hatred of the Federation of Rim-dwellers would probably allow the Outsiders to recruit hundreds of thousands of humans. Maybe they could replace the Marsha. God knew he would have lots of empty slots in his fleet after the engagement was concluded.

  “Launch the second strike,” he ordered. “And tell the escorting fighters not to leave their formation, no matter what happens.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

  Charlie nodded, then looked down at his fleet’s status again. They’d fired off their external racks, as well as two barrages from their inner tubes. He could press the offensive, force his way back into missile range, but it would cost him dearly. Even an outright victory would leave his ships shot dry. And if the Federation Navy managed a counterattack, it could be decisive. Unarmed superdreadnaughts would be easy targets.

  They don’t have another fleet in the sector, he thought, slowly. It would be worth it if they could guarantee several weeks of peace. But we didn’t know their Fifth Fleet was on the way until it arrived at Athena. There could be another major formation out here, unknown to us.

  He was almost sure there wasn’t. But he didn’t dare take it for granted. It would take weeks to repair the damage to his ships, even if they broke off the engagement now. And what if the Federation did manage a counterattack?

  “Once the fighters are on their way, reduce speed,” he added. “We’ll shadow them as they leave, but make no attempt to close to missile range.”

  Lieutenant Juneau looked surprised. “Sir?”

  Charlie understood her confusion. The fleet would never have a better chance of engaging a sizable Federation formation on such favorable terms. But they had to think past the first battle. The Outsider Navy wasn’t large enough to absorb hideous losses and keep fighting, while the Federation Navy was. They couldn’t risk a victory so costly it ensured they would lose the war.

  And besides, if the Federation ships managed to stay ahead of them, all the advantages he enjoyed from his technology would be negated.

  “We’ve won,” he said. “There’s no point in fighting them to a finish.”

  He sighed. The downside was that it would leave the Federation Navy ships out there, ready to cause havoc along the Rim. But they would have no idea where to target to do real damage. It hardly mattered if a stage-one colony world like New Hampshire changed hands a dozen times before the e
nd of the war. Most stage-one colony worlds could add nothing to the balance of power, not even trained manpower. And he could go after the real targets with overwhelming force.

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

  She paused. “The Marsha will not take that calmly,” she warned. “We should be prepared for trouble.”

  “Understood,” Charlie said.

  * * *

  “The enemy fleet is launching starfighters,” Palter reported.

  “Stand by point defense,” Roman ordered. The Outsider pilots were still dogfighting with his pilots, despite the need to cover their attackers. It made absolutely no sense. Maybe they’d assumed that he would have to recall his fighters once the second attack wave was launched, but if so the tactic had cost them dearly. It wasn’t as if starfighters couldn’t be replaced far faster than superdreadnaughts. “And recall the starfighters once the second attack wave is in range.”

  He rubbed his chin as the new wave of icons came into attack range, then scattered into smaller groups as his starfighters broke off their engagements and roared after them. It was starting to look as though there were two different groups of Outsider pilots; one set calm and disciplined, the other capable, yet undisciplined. The more he looked at it, the more puzzled he became. The rogue pilots had cost their fellows a chance at scoring a decisive victory.

  Maybe their training was too short, he thought, although there was nothing wrong with the flyers individually. They were making mistakes that showed they were more used to facing simulations than real pilots, but they were learning from them. Or maybe they were encouraged to develop lone wolf flying skills.

  “Sir,” Palter said, “the enemy fleet is reducing speed.”

  Roman swung around and stared at the main display. Palter was right. The enemy fleet had indeed reduced speed, as if it had given up on the pursuit. That too made no sense, unless one assumed that the starfighters’ losses had made the enemy commander think twice about pressing the attack. But they could still have used their missiles to pound his fleet into scrap metal...

  But we would have given as good as we got, he thought, slowly. They would have taken a beating too.

  He watched, grimly, as the enemy starfighters raced in and fell on his ships. Dozens died, as before, but dozens more survived long enough to launch their missiles towards their targets. Invincible, Incredible, Fantastic and Harness died at once, vanishing in balls of superheated plasma; Tyrant and Thunderchild survived long enough to launch lifepods before they too followed their fellows into oblivion. Losing the battlecruisers would cost him, later, he was sure. He had a feeling they would have been very necessary as the war spread rapidly.

  “The enemy starfighters are falling back,” Palter informed him. “Even the rogue ones are leaving.”

  “Have SAR teams pick up the lifepods, if possible,” Roman said, absently. So far, the Outsiders hadn’t fired on any lifepods, but it was quite possible they would refuse to pick up survivors. Or that the lifepods would be mistaken for weapons and picked off by automated systems before anyone realized they were harmless. God knew it had happened before, during countless wars. “And launch a set of probes to watch the enemy formation.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  Roman watched the enemy starfighters retreating, puzzling over their actions. Lone wolves; there was no such thing among starfighter pilots, no matter how many movies praised the heroic loner over pilots who worked as a team. Anyone with pretensions to blowing a hundred alien starfighters out of space and then taking out a capital ship with a single well-placed torpedo was rapidly disabused of that notion. It didn’t happen, not outside the movies, where a patriotic scriptwriter and gorgeous love interest could make up for anything. He’d even once been told, back when he’d served on Enterprise, that far too many pilot-wannabes had seen the infamous show where a pilot had smuggled his girlfriend into a starfighter and made love to her under the stars. But the starfighters were too cramped for one person, let alone two...

  But it seemed the enemy had taken the movies seriously.

  He shook his head. “Keep us on our current course,” he ordered. “Once we’re outside immediate sensor range, detach one squadron of destroyers. They are ordered to go into cloak and observe the system from the outskirts, using the sensor platforms to monitor activity much closer to the planet itself. We’ll be back to relieve them as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  Roman nodded, then brought up the starchart and studied it quickly. He’d had a handful of contingency plans, but he’d underestimated the Outsiders. Professor Kratman – he remembered the man’s lectures on conceptual surprise with a flicker of fondness – would have his head. So would Emperor Marius. His career might have come to a sudden halt. But for the moment, all he could do was concentrate on saving as much as he could.

  The enemy would try to anticipate his movements, of course. Where did they think he would go?

  “Set course for Tyler’s World,” he ordered. It was actually several light years further into the Rim, but the Asimov Point there would allow him to skip back into the Federation, following the crazed lines of ill-understood wormholes. “We’ll pass through the point there, then head to Boston.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said. “Do you think they could have attacked Boston too?”

  “I hope not,” Roman said. The Outsiders had hurled six squadrons of superdreadnaughts at Athena. If they had enough force to attack both Athena and Boston – and be sure of victory – it might be time to consider suing for peace. But what did the Outsiders actually want? They hadn’t made any demands, as far as he knew; they’d simply started shooting. “If they have, we’re in deep trouble.”

  He sat back and forced himself to relax as the fleets broke contact. The sudden pause in the storm gave his crews time to evacuate two damaged ships, then scuttle them before the Outsiders could take them for prizes. Standard procedure was to scuttle ships damaged beyond repair in any case, but this time was different. The Outsiders might well be able to put any crippled starship back into service and point her at her former owners.

  And if they really are playing from the Operation Retribution playbook, he thought, they might well try to have an ambush waiting for us as we head back to Boston.

  “Signal all ships,” he added. There were too many other things to take care of to let himself worry about possible future encounters. All he could do was make preparations and pray. “I want a full update on their ammunition loads. There’s no hope of recovering anything from the fleet base, so we may have to conserve ammunition.”

  He cursed, again, the shortage of freighters. They’d assumed the fleet base would supply all their needs, but their imagination had proven inadequate. Very inadequate.

  “Crossing the line in twenty minutes, sir,” Palter reported. “All stardrives are on line.”

  “Good,” Roman said. He looked up at the image of Athena’s star. “We’ll be back one day.”

  He paused. “Take us into stardrive as soon as we cross the line,” he ordered. “And then stand the fleet down from battlestations.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Occupying an entire planet is a task beyond almost all military forces. Standard Federation doctrine, therefore, is to secure the planet’s capital city and industries, then maintain a reserve force in orbit to respond to any threatening events. The remainder of the planet is left to its own devices.

  -The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Athena, 4098

  “Hey, you think they’ll greet us with flowers?”

  Uzi looked up. Lieutenant Caleb Roebuck was depressingly young and enthusiastic – and completely devoid of any real experience. His simulations showed promise, Uzi had to admit, but there was no way to know how he’d perform when the shit hit the fan.

  “I think we should prepare for the worst,” he said. The last report had stated that the planetary defenses had been immobilized, but Uzi had heard such repor
ts before and they’d always been proven inaccurate. “And you should watch for signs the locals aren’t too pleased to see you.”

  Roebuck sat down next to him as the transport shivered, slightly. “But they should welcome us?”

  I was never that naive, Uzi thought, coldly. Never.

  “You can never take anything for granted in such a dangerous situation,” Uzi said, instead. “I think you have to concentrate on preparing for the worst.”

  “So you said,” Roebuck said. “But really...why wouldn’t they welcome us?”

  “For all the reasons I gave when we worked our way through the simulations,” Uzi said, feeling his patience start to fray. “They may fear us, they certainly don’t know us and we look aggressive. And don’t forget the Federation’s loyalists, either.”

  He closed his eyes as he accessed the transport’s sensors through his implants. So far, he had to admit, the Outsider plan had largely survived contact with the enemy. The Federation Navy was in retreat and the planetary defenses were either shut down or shooting at each other. They were certainly in no state to put up any resistance as the occupation fleet entered orbit, picking off automated defense platforms as they opened fire. Half of the automated network seemed to be dead; the other half seemed torn between several different imperatives.

  Unless they’re just playing dead, he thought, as he turned his attention to the communications network. They might be hoping to lure us into point blank range.