The Shadow of Cincinnatus (30 page)

“In which case they will be unable to assault Boston,” Roman countered. “We might not have the chance to smash their fleet, Admiral, but we would have time to keep strengthening our own defenses. Time, if our agents are to be believed, is not on their side.”

“It isn’t on ours either,” General Yaakov grumbled.

“We could lose everything,” Admiral Ness objected. “The timing could be screwed up...”

“Yes, it could,” Roman agreed. On the surface, the plan lacked any adherence to the KISS Principle – Keep It Simple, Stupid. But he’d worked through it with the study team, eliminating as many problems as they could. At worst, the fleet he dispatched from Boston would spend two months lurking outside the system for nothing. “But we are short on options.”

“I cannot believe the emperor would approve a plan that involves daring the enemy to attack you,” Admiral Ness continued. “I believe a full Council of War should be called...”

Roman slapped the table, hard. Now, he understood why Admiral Ness had never been considered a threat. The man didn’t have the drive to
be
a warlord in his own right, let alone an emperor. He’d been considered safe...but, right now,
safe
was the last thing the Federation needed.

“A council of war is only required when there is no designated senior officer,” Roman said, sharply. They were also called when the senior officer needed to cover his ass, but he kept that thought to himself. The plan was his and he would bear the blame, if any, for its failure. Given what was at stake, he could hardly blame the emperor for ordering Roman shot if the plan failed spectacularly. “I am the senior officer in this system and I intend to put this plan into action.”

He took a breath. “Besides, the emperor is a skilled officer in his own right,” he added. “I am sure he would approve the plan.”

“Then ask his approval,” Admiral Ness said. “Send a message requesting permission to proceed.”

Roman met his eyes. “How long does it take to get a message from here to Earth? And to get a reply?”

“Four months,” Admiral Ness said. “Assuming there are no delays...”

“Precisely,” Roman said. “By the time we obtained the emperor’s approval, the Outsiders might have already launched their assault on Boston. We have to move now or remain here, fists bunched, waiting for the inevitable attack. And that attack will be launched at a time and place of the enemy’s choosing! We need to recover the initiative and we need to recover it
now
!”

He paused, watching Admiral Ness to be sure the message was sinking in. It was quite likely the bastard would send a message back to the emperor anyway, expressing his concerns...or he might not, knowing that he would look stupid – at best – if Plan Omega succeeded and the Outsiders took a beating. And besides, if the plan failed, they would probably all end up dead.

“As far as everyone else is concerned, we will be attacking Goldstone,” he said. “Commodore Lopez” – he nodded towards the silent officer – “will take command of Task Force 5.2, which will be charged with carrying out the assault. The battle squadrons need some reorganization, which will serve as an excuse for leaking the target. I’ll have sealed orders prepared for your subordinates, which will be opened as soon as the fleet departs Heart’s Ease.”

“Yes, sir,” Commodore Lopez said. He was a tall officer, only a year or two younger than Roman. And he’d served well in the Justinian War. “When do you want us to depart?”

“Ideally, within two weeks,” Roman said. “The haste will provide another excuse for leaks, I hope.”

“Or they may feel you’re overdoing it and suspect a trap,” Admiral Ness said.

“They’ll see the fleet depart,” Roman said. There were just too many freighters, mining stations and other settlements within the system for his peace of mind. One or more of them would definitely be keeping the system under observation, assuming the Outsiders didn’t have a recon squadron specifically dedicated to Boston. It was what he would have done. “And, at that point, they will have a chance to decide if they want to cover Goldstone or attack Boston.”

He smiled. The Outsiders had the advantage of internal lines; if they believed the attack on Goldstone was real, they could muster forces to block it quicker than Commodore Lopez could reach the system. They’d have plenty of time to make up their minds. But if they wanted to attack Boston instead, they’d never have a better chance. Goldstone was utterly immaterial compared to Boston.

“I expect the true objective to remain a secret,” he warned, as he rose to his feet, “We cannot afford a leak.”

And I will know,
he added silently,
which one of us spilled the beans
.

One must remember that the Federation’s idea of a fair trial was not, by any definition of the term, actually fair
.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Earth, 4100

“Well,” a voice said. “This is a bit of a cock-up, isn’t it?”

Lucy looked up. She had no idea how long she’d been in the dark cell, naked, alone and very afraid. They’d fed her once, a bowl of something soft she wouldn’t have fed to a cat, and she’d dozed off shortly afterwards. It hadn’t occurred to her that the food might have been drugged.

She had to cover her eyes against the glare from outside. “Who...who are you?”

“I’m the only friend you have,” the man said. He stepped into the cell, allowing her to see him properly. “Right now, you’re in very deep shit.”

Lucy gathered herself as best as she could. Somehow, it seemed pointless to cover herself, after the
very
thorough search she’d been forced to endure. The man didn’t even seem to look at her properly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly above her head. She wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at kindness, however misplaced, or a gesture of contempt. There was no way to know.

“I want to speak to a lawyer,” she said. “I have a right to speak to a lawyer.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t true for anyone held under emergency powers,” the man said. He stepped to one side, then held out a hand. “Would you please come with me?”

Lucy eyed him darkly as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. Her entire body felt weak; even if she’d been able to overpower him, she had a feeling there was no way out of the complex. Outside, the walls were gunmetal grey, solid metal. There was no sign of anyone else, not even other prisoners. And, when she listened, she could hear nothing apart from a rattling old air recycler. It was not a reassuring sound. By the time they reached a small office, she was thoroughly unnerved.

“Please, take a seat,” the man said. He waved to a stool in front of a metal table, then walked around it and sat down. Once Lucy had sat, he reached into a drawer and recovered a terminal. “There are some documents here. I want you to be reasonable and sign them.”

“I’d like to read them first,” Lucy said. She knew the dangers of signing anything without reading it first. “If I can...”

She paused. “And what is your name?”

There was a flicker of hesitation. “You can call me Dan,” the man said, finally. He passed her the terminal, then looked into her eyes. “I suggest you sign them now.”

Lucy read through the document, page by page. It was horrifyingly simple; she confessed to having deliberately slowed production, an act of treason when the Federation was at war, fighting for its life. The final page was nothing more than heartfelt begging for her life in florid tones. If she hadn’t been in jail, she would have found herself unable to believe that
anyone
would beg for mercy like that. But maybe it happened anyway...

“I’m not going to sign this,” she said. “We didn’t have a choice...”

Dan held up a hand. “Let me be blunt,” he said. “You were caught in the act of outright sabotage, no matter the words you use to justify it. We have enough evidence against you to skip the trial and move directly to the sentencing. You
will
be found guilty and, because this is a case of treason, you
will
face the maximum penalty. Do you know, incidentally, what the maximum penalty is in cases of treason?”

Lucy shook her head.

“You will be killed, of course,” Dan said, “but it doesn’t end there. Your family will be killed as well, just for daring to know you.”

“My kids,” Lucy said. “You can’t kill them!”

“It is the fate reserved for traitors,” Dan said. “Your kids are young. The emperor may commute their sentences to life imprisonment, or exile to a colony world so primitive that they think stardrives are nothing more than the products of over-simulated imaginations. I would prefer not to think about what would happen to young boys, out along the Rim. Even if they find a decent foster family, they will never have a chance to be anything more than dirt poor.”

“You
bastard
,” Lucy said.

Dan didn’t bother to deny it. “You have to make a choice,” he said. “Sign the confession and you – along with your family – will have your sentence commuted to lifetime exile. You’ll spend the rest of your life on a colony world, but you’ll be alive and living with your family.”

“You just made it sound so attractive,” Lucy snarled.

“Oh, it is,” Dan said. “You’ll be going as colonists, you see, not indentured criminals. You will have a chance to live your life...”

He paused, then met her eyes. “Or you will spend the next few days in this complex, then you will be executed,” he added. “There will be no escape, no last-minute reprieve. Sign the confession or die, along with your family.”

Lucy forced herself to think. She’d never really thought what could happen to her if she ran afoul of the security forces, not even when the Grand Senate had been tightening its grip on society. Now, she was naked, alone and facing death...and her family was facing death beside her. The thought of her two little boys being hung was horrific, but so was the thought of them being exiled to the Rim, without her. There were rumors about what happened to children on the Rim. She’d always assumed they were lies, but Dan’s words gave them a sudden – terrifying – credence. What if they were...?

Dan watched her, emotionlessly. Somehow, that was worse than having him leer at her body, or even force himself on her. And he could have, she knew. To him, she was nothing more than a piece of meat; no,
less
than a piece of meat. She wasn’t really
human
. He could do anything to her, undeterred by anything resembling a conscience. And he could do the same to her children, or to her husband.

She took the terminal, paged back to the start, and signed her name.

“Thank you,” Dan said. There was a glimmer of amusement in his voice. “Now, you have to record a message.”

Lucy looked down at the table, broken. “A message?”

“A message,” Dan said. His voice hardened. “One to be broadcast everywhere. And
do
try to make it sound convincing.”

* * *

“Only two of the strikers held out,” General Thorne said. “I believe we can simply exile or execute them now. The remainder have already signed the confessions.”

“Good,” Marius said. He’d been dreading the prospect of another show trial. “Have the ones who signed confessions sent into exile, as planned. The remainder can be shipped to the nearest penal world.”

“Yes, sir,” Thorne said.

He nodded, then left the chamber. Marius rubbed the side of his head, feeling the headache abate slightly. Decisive action always felt good, even though he knew that breaking the strike was only the start of what he needed to do. The strikes couldn’t be allowed to resume...he sighed, then glanced at the preliminary report. It would be at least two weeks before the striking complexes returned to full production, assuming nothing went badly wrong. There would be knock-on delays that would impinge upon military readiness.

But it can’t be helped
, he thought, grimly.
There’s no alternative, but chaos
.

* * *

Tiffany Drake – she had abandoned the endless series of names she’d been given as a minor scion of the Grand Families after the coup – had never wanted to be much of anything. There was no point in trying to be ambitious when she would either get whatever she wanted, just by asking for it, or be denied it simply because her father wasn’t a very prominent member of the Grand Families. Indeed, it was why she had been ordered to marry Admiral Marius Drake in the first place. She was very definitely an aristocrat, with a bloodline that could be traced all the way back to the earliest years of the Federation, yet she brought no influence or power to her husband.

And if I had
, she’d reflected often enough,
I would have been married off long before the war began
.

She hadn’t expected to
like
Admiral Drake, let alone fall in love with him. And, if she were pressed, she would have found it hard to explain
why
she’d fallen in love with him. He was nothing like the sensitive young men held up as the ideal on Earth, although neither were many of the male aristocrats of her generation. But they had earned their prominence through choosing the right parents, while Admiral Drake had cut his way to the top through sheer brilliance and iron determination. It was easy to see why the Grand Senate had feared him, a thought that never failed to make Tiffany smile. If they hadn’t tried to kill him, she knew, Drake would never have rebelled.

And besides, there was work – real
meaningful
work – for her to do now.

She’d
known
she would either become a trophy wife or an old maid. Indeed, being an old maid seemed preferable to being married off to anyone. But now she had real work to do, real problems to tax her brain. It didn’t bother her that most of the Grand Families were gone – she’d never liked the ones she’d known personally anyway – when it allowed so many people to flourish. A meritocracy would allow people to rise to the level they deserved, not the one determined by their birth. And she knew she could do well, if given a chance...