The Shadow of Cincinnatus Read online

  “Glory is immaterial,” the Insect said. “All that matters is victory.”

  “Glory will decide who leads us,” Slant said. There was no point in shouting at the Insects. They didn’t have emotions, as humans understood the term. “The next generation must have its leaders.”

  Li held up a hand. “We cannot run the risk of fighting an insurgency in our rear,” she said, carefully. “Correcting the opinions many humans have of aliens will take years – and responsible behaviour on our part.”

  “Human thoughts and feelings are not our concern,” Slant said.

  “They will be if they make the difference between peaceful surrender and hopeless resistance,” Stuart said. “We have no choice but to humor them. Allowing them to grow into the realization that most xenophobic feelings are based on nothing more than propaganda will take years.”

  On that note, the meeting ended.

  * * *

  “So tell me,” Li said, when she and Stuart were alone. “What are the odds?”

  “Fifty-fifty, I would say,” Stuart said. “We will have the advantage of surprise, some new technology of our own and a very experienced and motivated set of crews. They will have superior numbers and superior industry, if they manage to get it back up to speed. It will not be an easy task. Their tax base is shot to hell, for a start.”

  He paused. “Do you still want to make a peace offer? It might be harder to get them to listen after we’ve started the war.”

  Li nodded. “It might bring the war to an end,” she said. “If we give them a way out...”

  She would have preferred to make the offer ahead of the war, but she knew it would give the Federation time to prepare. A hammer blow that shattered the Federation’s control over the Rim would shock it, she hoped, enough to convince the emperor to talk peace. The Grand Senate certainly would have considered surrender...

  ...But would Admiral Drake?

  She recalled their one meeting and scowled. Drake hadn’t struck her as someone who gave up easily, even after being recalled to Earth to explain his failure. Other admirals might have begged for mercy, or even promised to do more with less, but not Drake. He’d told the Grand Senate, to their faces, that he needed more ships to produce results. And then he’d taken command of the defenses of Earth, saved the planet from a bolt from the blue, and then...

  “Emperor Marius Drake will not give up easily,” she said. He’d had plenty of opportunities to set up as a warlord in his own right – and, despite herself, she was sure he hadn’t intended to become emperor. “We will need to ensure the situation is hopeless before he surrenders.”

  “Then we will have to fight hard,” Stuart said. “Two months to get everything in order...”

  He shook his head. “It will be chancy, Li,” he warned. “But we have no other choice.”

  “Of course not,” Li agreed. “If the Federation ever found out about us, we would be dead. And not just us. Everyone would be dead.”

  She sat down and stared at the display. It had been years since some of her ancestors had fled the Inheritance Wars. Longer, since they had first left Earth in search of a new home, one where they could live in their own manner. But the Federation had refused to let them go, and their first attempt to make themselves independent had misfired badly. This time, the Federation was weakened and they would never have a better chance at success.

  But if it went wrong...

  Then we die, she told herself. But what else can we do?

  Chapter Five

  Barany, Governor Richardson. Governor of Athena, Sector Capital. Long-standing client of the Warren Family (Grand Senate). Known for being intensely corrupt. Threatened with recall just prior to the Justinian War.

  -The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Athena, 4098

  There was always a sense of...something...when one passed through an Asimov Point. It was never easy to describe. Roman had tended to think of it as a kind of anticipation, mixed with fear. Anything, anything at all, could be on the other side of the disruption in space-time that linked two star systems together. And these days, after the Justinian War, it was impossible to be entirely certain of what was on the far side. Even friendly space could turn out to be anything but.

  He braced himself as Valiant slid through the Asimov Point and materialized in another star system, fifty light years from her departure point. The display flickered, then rapidly started to update, revealing three heavy battlestations protecting the Asimov Point, backed up by a handful of outdated cruisers and destroyers. Athena had been largely uninvolved in the Justinian War and the defenses had never been built up, unlike Earth and a hundred other worlds that happened to be on the front line. Roman had no doubt of his ability to take the system, if necessary. And, no matter how loyal Governor Barany claimed to be, Roman suspected he would be reluctant to cooperate fully. He’d certainly refused to co-operate with Admiral Drake!

  “You will have full authority to assess the situation,” Emperor Marius had said, before Roman had boarded the shuttle for Valiant. It was the last time they’d seen one another, sharing a drink as they discussed the future. “Barany may just be a fool – if so, you can retire him with full honors. If not, remove him from power and send him home.”

  “Transit complete,” Palter reported, interrupting Roman’s thoughts. “Moving to assembly point now.”

  Roman nodded. Fifth Fleet was coming through the Asimov Point in a tight stream of starships, much to the horror of local traffic control. It had been a risk – one mistiming and two starships would collide or find themselves sharing the same space when they materialized – but he’d seen no choice. Quite apart from showing off, it allowed him to muster as much firepower as possible within the system at terrifying speed. If the defenders had wanted to put up a fight, outdated or no, they would have given him a bloody nose. It was the last thing he wanted.

  “I don’t think anyone would actually fight for him,” Emperor Marius had said. “Justinian, whatever else could be said about him, had enough charisma to convince his subordinates to go along with him. Barany has none of that, Roman. But he will be desperate if he fears the worst.”

  And he might well, Roman thought. By now, he has to know that Admiral Drake is the new Emperor – and Drake complained prominently about him to the Grand Senate. It might be time for him to take his winnings and run before we reach his world.

  He forced himself to watch patiently as Fifth Fleet slowly assembled and shook itself down into formation. The drills had helped, he knew, although there was still a hint of imprecision about the fleet’s movements. If they’d still been in the pre-war era, heads would have rolled. A starship out of position by a handful of metres would be considered a major disaster. Now...now it was better to be able to fight than to look good. It would be a long time before the lessons of the war faded away.

  “Formation complete,” Palter reported. “Local traffic control is requesting permission to switch back to civilian operations. They’re claiming to have lost millions in credits over the last thirty minutes.”

  “Tell them to switch back,” Roman said, not bothering to dispute their claims. The military had transit priority, even in peacetime. Besides, using the Asimov Points was so much quicker than making the crossing between stars without them. “And then dispatch the observers to the battlestations.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  Roman smiled, then glanced at the stream of reports from his ships. There were no major problems, although a couple of ships had barely avoided collisions as they emerged from the Asimov Point. A freak twist in the local gravity field had almost killed four hundred officers and crew, along with destroying two cruisers. Roman muttered a silent prayer of thanks under his breath, then tapped a command into the datanet. The fleet shook itself out and started to glide towards Athena. Governor Barany was waiting for them there.

  “Local traffic is surprisingly high,” Commodore Sonia Yu said, from her console at the other side o
f the CIC. The middle-aged woman looked over at Roman, thoughtfully. “There’s more freighters in the system than we were led to expect.”

  “And that means...what?” Roman asked. Athena was a major junction point, with five Asimov Points and a number of colonies within two weeks of FTL travel. “A sign of trouble?”

  “Governor Barany’s staff didn’t declare anything like this level of traffic when they reported back to the Grand Senate last year,” Yu said. “He may be skimming taxes from the unreported ships, sir, or he may be up to something more sinister. It isn’t a good sign.”

  “No,” Roman agreed. He frowned as more icons popped into existence on the datanet. Athena had only been settled a hundred years ago, the oldest colony world in the sector. It shouldn’t have had so much activity, not according to the standard development profiles. “Can you give me a complete breakdown?”

  He watched as the analysts went to work. Athena should have had a handful of asteroid colonies, a single cloudscoop and maybe a pair of colonies on the other rocky worlds within the system. Sector Capital or not, there just wasn’t the funding available for more rapid development. The outdated fortifications protecting the planet itself had been the single largest investment from the Federation. And yet...

  The asteroid belt was brimming with activity, there were no less than four cloudscoops operating in orbit around the gas giant and hundreds of freighters were making their way in and out of the system. It was an incredible leap forward, all the more remarkable because none of it had happened prior to 4092, when the Justinian War had begun. Six years of effective abandonment had led to this? Roman couldn’t help wondering just what Governor Barany had done to make so much spring up out of nowhere – and it if could be duplicated elsewhere.

  “We will enter orbit in five hours,” Palter reported. “The governor will have plenty of warning of our approach.”

  “We’re not trying to hide,” Roman said. What would the governor do? It was hard to argue with success – and it was clear the governor had been very successful. But he had to know that Emperor Marius had a grudge, not without reason. “Just keep a sharp eye on the planetary defenses.”

  The hours ticked by slowly. Roman watched grimly as more and more activity came into detection range, suggesting that Athena had jumped two whole development stages within six years. There was a small shipyard in orbit and two more floating in separate orbits around the sun, both civilian-grade but very impressive. The only thing missing was an updated defense grid. There had been no attempt to improve the battlestations protecting the planet from attack.

  And that makes no sense, Roman thought, coldly. If you ruled this system, wouldn’t you want to make sure that nothing bad happened to it?

  A thought struck him and he tapped his console, bringing up the system display. It was impossible to be sure, but it looked very much as though there was no fear. The freighters made their way in and out of the system without fear of attack, even though there was little hope of support arriving from Athena in time to make a difference, if they ran into trouble. And that made no sense. Everyone knew that pirates and rebels plagued the Rim, looting, raping and killing their way across stage-one and stage-two colonies. Hell, Roman himself had lost his parents to a pirate attack. It made no sense at all.

  He keyed his console, linking into the Marine Command Net. “Elf, I’d like you to look at the data,” he said. “Tell me what you think.”

  There was a pause. Roman used it to watch the display, wondering just how many rules and regulations had been flouted. But...Athena had been effectively out of contact with the Grand Senate for six years. What had Governor Barany managed to do without the Grand Senate peeking over his shoulder? And was it really right to punish him for actually taking his system and turning it into a success?

  But if he’s made deals with pirates, Roman thought, it isn’t something we could allow to go unpunished.

  “Picking up a signal from the planet,” Palter said. “Governor Barany sends his regards and invites you to call on him as soon as the fleet enters orbit.”

  Roman considered it, briefly. He could hardly avoid paying a call on the governor, even if what he suspected was true. And besides, it would give him a chance to take the measure of the governor in person. Emperor Marius had given him considerable latitude, after all. But he had a feeling, if the old reports were entirely accurate, that the governor was up to his receding hairline in pirate activity. He’d taken advantage of six years of near-independence to build up a protection racket that was blighting the entire sector.

  Roman’s earpiece buzzed. “I don’t like this,” Elf said. “It looks, very much, like the governor has made a deal with someone.”

  “I know,” Roman said. “You have the plans for Operation Swap. Start tailoring them to the current situation.”

  “Aye, sir,” Elf said.

  Slowly, Athena herself came into view on the display. She looked like Earth had once been, according to the history books; a blue-green orb hanging against the blackness of interstellar space. But she was surrounded by five heavy – and outdated – battlestations, as well as countless orbital facilities and transhipment nodes. There were far more than the system should be able to support, Roman calculated mentally. The Gross Planetary Product had to be significantly higher than the Grand Senate had been led to believe.

  “Link us into System Command,” he ordered. “I want us to have complete access to their systems – everything from short-range active sensors to long-range probes and listening platforms. Get the data filtered through to the intelligence analysts and tell them I want a complete breakdown of the system. Specifically, I want to know just what the fuck is going on.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  Elf’s face appeared in the display. “Operation Swap has been updated,” she said. “The Marines are on standby, ready for immediate deployment.”

  “We need evidence, first,” Roman said. The emperor might not object if they simply arrested the governor, but if there was to be a trial there had to be evidence. It was just possible that Governor Barany had pulled off a miracle. “Something to prove that the governor is a dirty bastard.”

  “We already have proof,” Elf said. “The system has far more industrial production nodes than it should. Where is the excess production going?”

  Roman frowned as the analysis popped up in front of him. Athena might have jumped a pair of development stages, but her industries weren’t large enough to absorb such a high level of production. Roman could understand wanting to build up a stockpile of spare parts – such a stockpile might have saved the Federation Navy from considerable embarrassment during the early years of the war – but there didn’t seem to be any such stockpile. And then, sooner or later, the industries would be unable to support themselves, if they were unable to sell their products. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t escape the impression that he was seeing evidence of heavy corruption right in front of him.

  He gritted his teeth. It was absurd! By any reasonable standard, the governor had done an excellent job of ensuring the system remained loyal to the Federation – and survived the economic shockwaves. There were no shortage of horror stories about colonies that had collapsed, while the Grand Senate’s attention was elsewhere. Worlds cut off from supply lines, or raided by pirates, or simply forgotten in the chaos caused by the war. But if the governor had been making deals with someone, he had to be stopped. There was no alternative.

  “We’ll call upon the governor tonight,” he said, after a moment’s thought. By then, they should have the proof they needed. “And...”

  “Admiral,” Palter interrupted. “I think you should see this.”

  Roman swung around as a new icon popped up in the display. “What the hell is that?”

  “A starship of unknown design,” Palter said. A stream of data ran past the icon as the sensors started to probe the mystery ship. “I think she’s alien, sir.”

  Roman blinked in surprise. Al
iens were not allowed starships, full stop. The traumas of the First Interstellar War were still too raw for humanity to ever consider letting its guard down or ever accepting aliens as equals. The policy wasn’t something he approved of, not completely, but it couldn’t be helped. Allowing an alien starship anywhere near a human world was a clear breach of the law.

  And she has to come from the Beyond, Roman thought, sharply. The governor didn’t report her presence to his superiors.

  “Query System Command,” he ordered, sharply. “I want a full explanation for her presence.”

  The answer came quickly. “Apparently, she was salvaged a month ago,” Palter said. “They don’t know where she came from, sir.”

  “Really,” Roman said. Any contact with a new spacefaring race had to be reported to the Grand Senate at once, whatever the situation. It was laid down in Federation Law. “Have a team prepared to board her, once we’ve dealt with the governor.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palter said.

  Roman forced himself to stand as the fleet entered high orbit. It felt wrong to leave the CIC when they were so close to the planetary defenses, no matter how confident his mentor had been that no one would put their lives on the line for Governor Barany. The fleet couldn’t keep its shields up without alarming the governor, which meant that the planetary defenses, no matter how outdated, could do real damage before the fleet returned fire. It was a risk, but one he had to take. There was no other way to arrest the governor without risking everything.

  “Keep a sharp eye on the defenses,” he ordered. “And be ready to snap the shields up without waiting for orders, if necessary.”

  He strode out of the CIC and down into his cabin, where he donned his dress uniform. So much had been revised since the Justinian War, but dress uniforms had been unaccountably overlooked. The blue and grey uniform that marked him as a commodore – with a very slight service record, marked in gold pips – was hellishly uncomfortable. He’d been told, back at the Academy, that it helped keep the cadets alert, but they’d privately suspected that someone with powerful connections had blackmailed the Federation Navy into accepting their creations. It was the only explanation that made sense.