The Shadow of Cincinnatus (38 page)

“Move us into interception position,” Roman ordered, coolly. So far, so good. The enemy had blasted through the Asimov Point with fewer losses than he’d hoped, but otherwise everything had gone according to plan. “Detach...detach the 67th Battlecruiser Squadron with orders to cloak, then make its way around to Point Delta. I want the enemy ships blasted off the point as soon as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

Roman forced himself to relax as
Valiant
picked up speed, heading towards the planned interception point. The enemy CO would have good reason to feel confident, even though it would be clear, to him, that Roman was planning to fall back on Point Alpha. Indeed, there was little choice. Roman’s ships were outnumbered and a straight missile duel would be disastrous. His only real hope was to rely on the fortresses covering Point Alpha for additional firepower.

His headset buzzed. “Picking up reports from the planet,” Elf said. “There are riots forming in a dozen cities. I think the word got out.”

“Joy,” Roman said, sarcastically. “Do they pose a security threat?”

“Not at the moment,” Elf said. “They may be a diversion...”

“Keep an eye on it,” Roman said. General Yaakov was in charge of handling the planet; hopefully, he would follow orders and be gentle. There had been quite enough incidents to give the Outsiders all the propaganda they could possibly want to make the Federation look bad. “But as long as it isn’t a major problem, don’t worry about it.”

He leaned back in his command chair and tried to project an impression of jaunty unconcern as the display updated. The enemy commander wasn’t trying to be clever...absently, Roman wondered if his opponent knew where Roman actually
was
. There was still no explanation for the communications drones the enemy had fired into the system, unless they’d been used to trigger the assaults on Point Echo and Point Gamma. It was quite likely that the Outsiders had a handful of survey ships in the system, watching the Federation’s every move. They’d be able to draw real-time data – or as close to real-time as possible – without breaking the known laws of science.

But there was a time when drive fields would have seemed impossible
, he reminded himself,
and FTL an unattainable dream. It hasn’t been that long since we escaped the tyranny of the Asimov Points...

“Admiral,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “The enemy fleet is launching drones.”

“Understood,” Roman said. “Keep an eye on them, but don’t panic. They need data too.”

He ran through the calculations, once again. The tutors at the Academy had warned him, time and time again, not to try to be clever. Now, he saw exactly what they’d meant. The time delay between his fleet, the enemy fleet, Boston and the various Asimov Points ensured that managing the battle would be tricky. It was incredibly hard to say, for sure, what the enemy could see. Or, for that matter, what any prowling spy ships might have told them. In some ways, he was grateful the enemy wasn’t trying to hide...and yet, was the large fleet he could see the diversion? There was no reason for the diversion to be smaller than the main offensive.

“Check with Points Echo and Gamma,” he ordered. “Are there any signs of a major assault?”

“No, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “The attacks were savage, but oddly uncoordinated.”

Roman sucked in his breath, then forced himself to relax. It would be hours before the two fleets entered engagement range and, by then, he would have worn himself out. All he could do now was watch and wait. And pray.

* * *

“The enemy fleet has been located,” Lieutenant Juneau reported. A mass of red icons blinked into view on the display. “They’re blocking our course to Point Alpha.”

“They won’t have a better chance to hurt us and they know it,” Charlie said. The long hours of nothing as they’d crawled across the system had been nerve-wracking, but they were finally about to engage the enemy. “Launch a second flight of drones, then prepare to engage. The Marsha can take the lead.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

Charlie watched as the display started to update itself, drawing data from the drones before they were picked off by prowling starfighters or point defense weapons. The enemy fleet was stronger than he’d anticipated – seven battle squadrons instead of the six intelligence insisted remained at Boston – but he still had a major advantage, even without the advanced weapons. There were no grounds for refusing an engagement, particularly if he could prevent the Federation Navy from falling back on Point Alpha.

“Order the Marsha to begin the offensive,” he ordered. Two years of bloody warfare had taught the aliens some lessons, but they remained barbarian warriors at heart. The Federation Navy would tear them apart, yet their deaths would win the Outsiders some time to get their own offensive into play. And besides, they might hurt the Federation before they died. “And then place our starfighters on full launch alert.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

* * *

“Sir, the enemy fleet is launching gunboats,” Lieutenant Thompson reported. She broke off, shocked. “Sir, their drives are radiating hot.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. No amount of shielding, at least not any level mounted by such small craft, could hope to protect the crew. The drive field would be spitting out enough radiation to ensure the crews would be dying already. They had to be insane – or desperate – but it might have paid off for them. Even missiles would be hard-pressed to match their speed before they died.

“Launch starfighters,” he ordered, grimly. On the display, the gunboats were already streaking towards his ships. “And inform me when the enemy enters missile range.”

He smiled to himself, humorlessly. The Outsiders didn’t know it, but they were about to get a very nasty surprise. He might not have
many
long-range missiles, yet the ones he did have came with a modification of their own. And to think it was something they owed to Admiral Justinian...

The gunboats closed in, firing as they came. Their flight patterns were surprisingly eccentric, although, with the radiation no doubt already affecting the crews, perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised. Roman watched grimly as they unleashed missiles towards his starfighters, then exploded in blinding flashes of light as they were picked off, one by one. They weren’t just carrying missiles, he realized, as the wave of gunboats reached his point defense envelope and started to close in. There was enough antimatter crammed into the small ships to give his capital ships a very bad day.

And the antimatter blasts will damage our datanet
, he thought, grimly.
But at least we have some time to prepare
.

He pushed the thought to one side as the gunboats started to ram their targets. One struck a superdreadnaught, damaging its shields; the others went after smaller crafts, one successfully blowing apart a battlecruiser by slamming into its shields and knocking them down. Dozens more died as they were picked off by point defense, particularly as they dropped into attack formation. They didn’t seem to have mastered the art of constantly flying evasive patterns, like starfighter pilots. Roman was fairly sure the enemy ships weren’t piloted by humans. Even the most fanatical human wanted his death to mean
something...

“Contact Commodore Lopez,” he ordered, as the last gunboat died. Two of his superdreadnaughts had taken minor damage, but the remaining heavy combat ships were intact. “Order him to commence Operation Sword.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

Roman nodded. The Outsiders were on the verge of entering missile range, but would they open fire as soon as they could or would they wait, diminishing his chances of shooting down the missiles before they reached their targets?
Roman
would have waited; the Outsiders, however, might have other thoughts. It all depended on how many missiles they could fire at a time...

“Enemy ships entering firing range,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “They’re sweeping us with targeting sensors, but they’re not actually firing.”

“Not yet,” Roman said. They’d probably fire just outside
his
missile range – or what they thought his missile range to be. It was what they’d done before, with the additional problem that he was trying to fall back on Point Alpha, rather than lunging forward to force himself into missile range. “Update our firing patterns, but hold fire until I issue the order.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

* * *

“The Marsha did better than predicted,” Lieutenant Juneau observed.

“Noted,” Charlie said. The Marsha had loved the idea of sprint-mode gunboats, even if the crews would probably have died before their bodies could be recovered. But they hadn’t cared. To them, dying in battle, with their hands around the enemy’s throat, was the ultimate achievement. “Have you locked missiles on target?”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said. “However, I have been unable to locate the enemy flagship.”

Charlie nodded, unsurprised. The Federation Navy rotated the datanet through every ship in the fleet, ensuring a considerable degree of redundancy. Losing the command ship would cause nothing more than momentary hesitation, while the new commander was informed that he was now in command. But specifically targeting the command ship was impossible, unfortunately. The tactic worked so well that the Outsider Navy had copied it for itself.

“Target their superdreadnaughts,” he ordered. If nothing else, they had to crush as many enemy battle squadrons as possible. They’d never have a better shot at their hulls. “And fire in two minutes.”

“Weapons locked,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

Charlie waited for the seconds to tick down, then braced himself. “Fire!”

The superdreadnaught shuddered as she unleashed her external racks, hurling five hundred missiles towards the Federation Navy. Her fellows followed moments later, unleashing their own broadsides. Charlie looked up at the display, as yellow icons seemed to merge together into a cloud of death and destruction, and prayed they would be enough. Two years of production had just been expended in a few seconds...

“General,” Lieutenant Juneau snapped. “The enemy ships have just opened fire!”

* * *

“The enemy ships have opened fire,” Lieutenant Thompson said. She paused. “They just fired their external racks.”

“Odd,” Roman commented.
He
would have flushed both external racks and internal tubes, just to ensure he didn’t lose a ship when a missile detonated an antimatter warhead. Were the enemy holding back? Or were they planning something? Or...did they have fewer long-range missiles than he’d believed? “Return fire.”

Valiant
shook violently as she opened fire. Unlike the Outsiders, Roman had fired both internal and external missiles, although their throw weight wasn’t quite a match for the enemy ships. Upwards of forty-five thousand missiles were flying towards his ships, enough to wipe them out of space if the point defense didn’t manage to weaken the missile swarm before it reached its target. He’d fired thirty thousand missiles himself...

“Launch gunboats,” he ordered. The enemy ships seemed to flinch, but – unless they had made a colossal improvement to their drive systems – they didn’t have a hope of getting out of missile range before it was too late. “And push the point defense forward.”

He braced himself as the cloud of red icons bore down on his ships. No matter what precautions he’d taken, it was all too clear that he was about to take a beating. Hundreds of thousands of lives would be lost. And all he could do, he knew, was pray it would be worth it.

* * *

Long-range missiles
, Charlie thought, numbly.
They built long-range missiles of their own
.

He turned his gaze to the sensor display as it updated, rapidly. The missiles didn’t seem to be as efficient as the Outsider designs, but quantity had a quality all its own. His point defense would kill many of them, yet quite a number would get through and hammer his ships...

“Engage them as soon as they enter weapons range,” he ordered. There was no choice, not really. They certainly didn’t have a hope of getting out of range before it was too late. “And then close to engagement range.”

* * *

“The gunboats are engaging the missiles,” Lieutenant Thompson reported. There was a pause. “I can confirm the missiles are armed with antimatter.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Roman muttered. If nothing else, one missile’s explosion might take out several other missiles nearby. He hoped for a chain reaction that would break the entire attack, but it didn’t seem as though they were going to be lucky. “Keep firing.”

He smiled to himself, despite the situation. Gunboats didn’t serve many purposes in war; indeed, the only time the Federation normally deployed them was as part of an assault force passing through an Asimov Point. They were large enough to survive transit and small enough to be rated expendable. However, Roman had fitted several hundred gunboats with point defense weapons and targeting systems that would allow them to engage missile swarms, hopefully from a safer distance than any starfighter. It seemed to be working, he decided. The Outsiders weren’t the only innovative people in the galaxy...

“Missiles entering attack range,” Lieutenant Thompson said. Hundreds were picked off, but thousands survived. “Sir...”

“Brace for impact,” Roman ordered, quietly.

The missiles slammed home. Roman watched as damage reports spread rapidly through the fleet;
Mountbatten, Powell, Jellicoe, Bismarck, Muhammad
and
Caesar
were blown into vapor, while
Spruce
and
Tirpitz
were badly damaged and fell out of formation. The enemy seemed to be targeting superdreadnaughts specifically, which allowed his smaller ships to cover them without worrying about their own protection, but there were just too many missiles to take them all down.
Valiant
shuddered twice as missiles slammed into her shields, then vibrated as the helmsman angled her weaker shields away from the enemy fire...