The Shadow of Cincinnatus (39 page)

“
Denver
is reporting major damage, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “She’s...”

She broke off. “
Denver
is gone, sir.”

“Noted,” Roman said. He glanced at the display, then gritted his teeth. “Keep us falling back on the Asimov Point.”

* * *

“Sir, the missiles are emitting odd radiation,” Lieutenant Juneau reported. “They’re...
Jesus Christ
!”

Charlie had barely a moment to realize what was happening before his superdreadnaught
screamed
like a gored bull. Admiral Justinian had designed missiles intended to channel the fury of an antimatter warhead into a single deadly beam; the Federation had taken the concept and improved upon it. What did it matter if the missiles were destroyed within milliseconds of activation, the designers had asked, if most of the blast went in the right direction? It was the old concept of a laser warhead, scaled up to eleven. And the Outsiders were taken completely by surprise.

“Hope, Light, Charity
and
Admiral Anderson
have been destroyed,” Lieutenant Juneau said. “Twelve other superdreadnaughts have taken significant damage...”

“I see,” Charlie said. They’d been hurt worse than he’d expected, all the more so because he hadn’t anticipated long-range missiles. The warheads hadn’t been the only things the Federation had scaled up. But he still held the missile advantage, even if the Federation Navy
was
falling back on the Asimov Point. “Continue firing as soon as we enter normal missile range.”

He smiled, darkly, as the two fleets converged. The battle was far from over...

“Picking up a signal from Point Delta,” Lieutenant Juneau said. “Enemy ships destroyed all but one of the guardian squadron. The Asimov Point is no longer secure.”

Charlie felt sweat trickling down the back of his neck. There was no point in taking out the guardian squadron, unless the enemy had something up their sleeve. But there was nothing on the far side of Point Delta, apart from Outsider fortifications. They’d just detached a squadron of ships from their main body, for what?

“Continue the advance,” he ordered. He was jumping at shadows. If he broke off now, it would leave the Federation in possession of the system. “And fire as soon as we enter engagement range.”

If, however, someone manages to solve the problem of coordination, the enemy commander will never know what hit him
.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Boston, 4100

“They’re continuing the advance, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

Roman shrugged. He’d expected as much, even though the enemy CO probably knew the Asimov Point was no longer secure. There was no real reason to break off and retreat to Point Delta, at least as far as the enemy CO could see. They’d be giving up their sole chance to inflict real damage on Roman’s fleet if they retreated...or so they thought.

“Keep us falling back,” he ordered. The enemy would be within standard missile range in three minutes, unless they reduced speed sharply. By then, he wanted to be able to call on the launchers orbiting Point Alpha. “And get me a direct link to Commodore Lopez.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

Roman keyed a switch. “Record,” he ordered. It was a shame they couldn’t open enough bandwidth over the StarCom to allow for a proper conversation, but it hardly mattered, not when he could simply record a message. “Commodore Lopez. You are ordered to begin Stage Two once you receive this message. I say again, you are ordered to begin Stage Two once you receive this message.”

He closed the connection, then looked up. “Send the message,” he ordered. “And then start the timer; two minutes, thirty seconds.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

The display suddenly sparkled with angry red icons. “Admiral,” Lieutenant Thompson added, “the enemy ships have opened fire.”

“Return fire,” Roman ordered. The timing wasn’t perfect; the enemy had managed to open fire before he could call on the fortresses for additional protection. “Order the fortresses to launch their starfighters, then stage them out here to support us.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.

Roman checked the timer. One minute, twenty-seven seconds to go.

* * *

“The enemy ships have opened fire,” Lieutenant Juneau reported. “They’re targeting our lighter ships.”

Charlie frowned.
That
was odd. Oh, he could see the point – the fewer point defense platforms, the better – but he couldn’t understand why the enemy were wasting their fire. Right now, their only hope lay in killing as many superdreadnaughts as possible...or on trying to break contact and escaping. Combined with the loss of Point Delta, it was either an attempt to rattle him or a sign the enemy had something else up their sleeves.

“Continue firing,” he ordered. They were almost close enough to go to rapid fire, whereupon the Federation ships would be rapidly smashed. But they should be clawing him back before they died. “And launch a flight of probes. I want to know what’s out there.”

He forced himself to sit still as the superdreadnaughts continued firing. The enemy kept their odd firing pattern, stripping away his smaller ships one by one. It was actually quite impressive, in a way, but worrying. The one thing he’d learned about Emperor Marius’s protégée was that he was far from stupid, yet he was being stupid now. Or acting stupid. Why?

It looked like a certain victory. The Federation ships would be unable to reach the Asimov Point before most of them were killed. He could bring up the Marsha suicide squads and break through the defenses, then obliterate the fortresses and punch deep into the heart of the Federation. The access to the inner Asimov Point lines alone would prove decisive. Countless wavering worlds would switch sides, turning on their Federation garrisons and surrendering their industrial plants to the Outsiders. Victory – total victory – would be within their grasp.

So why were the enemy practically handing him a victory?

“General,” Lieutenant Juneau snapped. “I’m picking up incoming ships!”

Charlie swung around and stared at the display. Red icons –
new
red icons – had popped into existence, advancing on his formation from the rear. The Federation Navy had crafted a trap, he realized numbly, as the tally of incoming ships started to click upwards. Five whole battle squadrons, nearly a hundred smaller ships and...several large ships of unknown design and capabilities. They couldn’t exist. But they did.

The fleet they sent to Goldstone must have doubled back
, he thought, with a sudden sense of bitter sickness. He’d never thought that anyone would dare uncover a priceless world merely to lure an enemy fleet into engagement range. Hell, Admiral Garibaldi had already sacrificed over fifty
thousand
lives just to prime the trap.
He must be out of his mind...

He forced the thought aside. “Emergency orders,” he snapped. Now, stripping away the smaller ships made sense. “All ships are to alter course to...”

The new fleet opened fire.

* * *

Roman watched, feeling cold exultation, as Commodore Lopez opened fire. His ships had been loaded with long-range missiles too, but that wasn’t the only surprise. The engineers had bolted countless missile pods to the hulls of bulk freighters, giving the Commodore a throw weight well above anything the enemy might expect. By now, a new tidal wave of missiles – a full Weber – was raging towards the Outsider Fleet. The enemy ships were attempting to evade, but it was far too late. They were going to take one hell of a beating.

“Reverse course,” he ordered. The Outsiders had noticed Commodore Lopez a minute or two too early. They’d have a chance to get back to Point Delta or, more likely, head for somewhere they could drop into FTL. “And continue firing.”

* * *

Charlie sat, stiff and cold, on his command deck as the missiles closed in. The enemy had timed it perfectly, catching his fleet between missiles coming from two different vectors. He had no choice, but to turn to face the newcomers, which left his flanks exposed to missiles from the old force. And that meant he was definitely about to take a pasting. Losing the smaller ships would
really
hurt.

“Continue firing,” he ordered, although he knew it was pointless. The battle was lost; the only thing he could do, really, was pull out of the system as fast as possible, leaving any stragglers behind. “And order the Marsha to launch attacks on the enemy fleet.”

He braced himself as the torrent of missiles slammed home, the impacts sending shocks through his command chair. A dozen superdreadnaughts died instantly, their shields battered down by multiple missile hits, while several more fell out of formation, streaming plasma from their damaged hulks. He hoped – prayed – that the Federation was willing to take prisoners, as there was no way he could stop and pick any survivors up before the advancing enemy overcame him. Fifteen more were badly damaged, badly enough that one or two additional hits would either cripple or destroy them. And his smaller ships had been almost completely wiped out. The only really intact survivor was a single battlecruiser.

“The
Prometheus
is to detach herself from the fleet,” he ordered. His voice was so cold it sounded like someone else speaking, even in his own ears. “She is to fly directly to Point Delta and make transit, if that seems possible. If so, she is to head directly to Galen and report to the commander there.”

He gritted his teeth. Chang Li was there, along with representatives from a dozen worlds that might join the Outsider Federation. They wouldn’t now, he was sure, not after the Outsiders had taken a terrific bloody nose. It might not prove decisive – the Federation would need time to recuperate itself, then locate Outsider homeworlds – but it would certainly prolong the war. And, no matter how long it took the Federation to find the worlds in the Beyond, they would have no difficulty targeting Galen, Athena or any of the other worlds in the Rim.

We could lose most of our gains
, he thought, bitterly.
And that would be disastrous
.

“The battlecruiser has left the fleet,” Lieutenant Juneau reported. “She’s on her way.”

Charlie nodded. The Federation had destroyed the pickets at Point Delta. Presumably, their ships were still there. Would there be time for the battlecruiser to get through the Asimov Point before she was intercepted? Or would the forces guarding Point Delta’s far side come through long enough to cover her retreat?

“Send a signal to the captured fortresses,” he ordered. “The crews are to evacuate at once.”

He took a breath. “And send another signal to the fleet,” he added. “The main formation is to proceed to the closest point we can activate the stardrive. Any starship that falls out of formation, including this one, is to be abandoned.”

Lieutenant Juneau looked up at him. “Sir?”

“Do it,” Charlie snapped. He had to save as many ships as possible, even if it meant abandoning vessels that might be salvageable, if they had time. “And enter the order into the fleet’s log. The responsibility is mine and mine alone.”

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Roebuck said. The new orders had come in while they’d been sweeping the captured fortress for useful intelligence. “Why do we have to prepare to leave?”

“The battle is going badly,” Uzi said. It was impossible to tell what was going on, at least through the sensors mounted on the small fleet of shuttles. The fortress’s own sensors had been ruined beyond immediate repair. “And the CO wants us to haul ass out of here before the feds catch up with us.”

Roebuck stared at him. “Are you being defeatist?”

“Merely practical,” Uzi said. “There is no point in refusing to accept bad news when it arrives, just because you don’t want to believe it.”

Roebuck snorted, then stalked off to organize the evacuation. Uzi watched him, thinking hard. Was it possible that he could arrange something that would allow him to remain behind? There was enough intelligence stored in his implants to give the Federation a very real chance of ending the war within a year or two. He’d set up a data dump on the fortress, but there was quite a strong chance they’d be ordered to blow it to atoms before they left. And most of the prisoners were already on their way to a detention center, further into enemy-held space.

Not a chance,
he thought, finally.

They’d found almost nothing on the station; at least, they’d found nothing of use. Some of the men had found porn stashes, which had made Uzi roll his eyes, and another had located a hidden still. It was hardly surprising – life on a fortress could be boring, most of the time – but Roebuck had ordered both the porn and booze destroyed. He, like many of the Outsiders, was oddly prudish at times. But then, easy access to porn probably helped distract the Federation’s population from contemplating the finer points of the Constitution and how badly the Grand Senate had subverted it over the years.
And
it kept the crew from growing too bored.

He smirked at the thought, then hastened down to the shuttles, where the handful of remaining prisoners were waiting. They’d clear out as soon as the fortress was empty, then head back through the Asimov Point. And pray the enemy didn’t feel like ending their flight today.

The enemy
, he thought. He
was
a Federation agent, after all.
After all I’ve done, being killed by my own side would be the height of irony
.

* * *

“Sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said, “a number of enemy ships are attempting to surrender.”

“Order them to shut down shields, weapons and main power,” Roman ordered, glancing at the display. There was no way he was going to refuse to take prisoners – they needed intelligence, if nothing else – but he couldn’t afford to risk being stabbed in the back. “The Marines are to board the ships, then take the crews off as soon as possible.”