Barbarians at the Gates (5 page)

And that suggested there had to be a second level to the plan. Destroying EDS1 and Navy HQ would cause confusion, but the disarray wouldn’t last. Even if Marius hadn’t stepped up to the plate,
someone
would have taken command sooner or later. There had to be an incoming enemy fleet heading towards Earth, having somehow been smuggled into the system. That, at least, was no longer impossible. The stardrive had seen to that.

“Ah, the network is up and running,” Fallon said. He sounded relieved. Marius wondered how he would cope in a battle where multiple antimatter detonations would disrupt the network effortlessly. Coordinating a fleet in combat wasn’t easy. “The three silent stations are continuing to refuse to respond.”

Treachery or equipment malfunction
? Marius thought. There was no way to know for sure.

“Link into Marine HQ at Camp Heinlein,” he ordered. Unless the Marines had been hit as well, Major General Tobias Vaughn would still be alive. And Vaughn, who had once been the senior Marine on Marius’s first command, was one of his closest friends. “Inform the Major General that I want armed Marines in the air and heading for the three stations. Once they board, they are to secure the stations and confirm their status, then prepare to start searching the civilian ships. If they meet with resistance, they are authorized to use deadly force.”

“Yes, sir,” Fallon said. At least he’d learned to take orders without objecting. “Ah, four bulk freighters are continuing to accelerate away from Earth, heading towards the Dead End.”

Marius smiled, feeling the old excitement shimmering through his mind. The Sol System possessed two Asimov Points, but one of them—the Dead End—led only to a single useless star system, without even a handful of asteroids to arouse the interest of the RockRats. The Dead End was defended, of course, yet it was simply not as important as the Gateway, the second Asimov Point within the system. And there was no logical reason for anyone to want to go there, unless they had something illegal in mind. And
that
, to his mind, effectively confirmed their guilt. Converting a bulk freighter to a starfighter carrier was easy.

“Order the starfighters to intercept and move up gunboats in support,” Marius ordered calmly. “If the bulk freighters refuse to surrender and hold position, the pilots are authorized to open fire. No further warnings.”

Fallon clearly swallowed an objection. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I shall pass your orders on to the pilots.”

Marius nodded. In five minutes, he would be aboard the station and ready to take command of defensive operations. But where was the enemy fleet? Their commander would have to strike a balance between secrecy and the need to strike hard before the defenders reorganized.

How close...?

* * *

“We should do something,” Raistlin protested. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

Roman couldn’t disagree. For cadets, spending any time in the Safe Locks was a foretaste of hell. They were armored rooms, isolated from Luna Academy’s life support system and, in theory, anyone inside could survive a disaster that took out the remainder of the academy. Now, with over seventy cadets from all five years crammed inside this one, tiny room, it felt claustrophobic.

“And what, pray tell, do you think you could do?” Proctor Amanda Wallace demanded. She was tall and, to the cadets, a force of nature. The proctors didn’t teach, not formally; they supervised the cadets and, when necessary, provided discipline. “Do you think we could take
Emprise
and
Enigma
out into battle?”

Raistlin flushed red, while a handful of cadets tittered.
Emprise
and
Enigma
were the two old starships that had been assigned to the academy for training purposes, but they were
far
from state-of-the-art. Roman, and every other cadet, even those who had no intention of going into Engineering, had spent months crawling over the two ships, eventually flying them throughout the Solar System. They were in perfect working order, but hopelessly outdated. Any modern warship would scythe them down in seconds.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Amanda said. “We don’t even know what is going on.”

Roman blinked. His implant hadn’t been able to access any information, but he’d assumed that was because he was just a cadet. But the proctors were clearly just as much in the dark.

“I suggest that you use your implants and study for your tests,” Amanda continued. “I assure you that if you die you won’t have to sit them.”

Roman snorted at the bad joke and then caught Raistlin’s eye, trying to let the man know Roman agreed with him. All hell was breaking loose out there, and yet here they were, stuck in the Safe Lock and unable to do anything, even run if necessary. Above them on the Luna surface, something was going on.

Cadets weren’t trained to sit on their hands. So why was it that they hadn’t been ordered to battle stations rather than the Safe Lock? Something wasn’t right here.

He looked away, hoping to conceal his expression from Proctor Amanda. Feeling helpless wasn’t pleasant, but what else could he do? In hopes of distracting himself, he called up the data for the tactical exam and started to run through it. It didn’t work. His thoughts kept returning to the battle above, where the future of the Federation was being decided.

After all, why else would anyone attack Earth?

The Federation grants vast authority to its commanding officers, if only because of the time delay in seeking and receiving orders from the Senate. If Case Omega is declared, the senior officer effectively becomes the federal government, with authority to issue orders to all branches of the services without regard for either tradition or formal procedure
.

-
An Irreverent Guide to the Federation,
4000 A.D.

Near-Earth Orbit, Sol System, 4092

The last time Marius Drake had set foot in an Earth-class battlestation had been ten years ago. In the interim, he’d forgotten just how depressing they were. It was obvious the former commander of the battlestation—now dead—had made an attempt to decorate the command center in a green and white style as opposed to the usual institutional gray, but it hadn’t helped. It was still depressing, and worse, it contained a number of people who, if they were anything like the hapless Commander Fallon, were completely unready to defend Earth.

That had to change, and fast.

“No, I don’t want a formal greeting party,” Marius said in response to Fallon’s question as he strode off the shuttle into the battlestation. If they weren’t at war, Fallon would have had a point; now it was a waste of time. “Give me a status report, and right now!”

He glared up at the holographic near-orbit display as he took the command chair at the heart of the command center. The command center was massive, large enough to make it difficult for anyone to make himself heard from one end of the compartment to the other, and packed with consoles and officers. At least Fallon had managed to get the crew up and running, but no one seemed to know what they were doing. That did not bode well for Earth unless Marius was able to make them listen.

“The Marines are boarding the silent battlestations now,” Fallon said. “They’re reporting that their command software was contaminated by enemy computer viruses and that the stations are physically intact—and loyal.”

Marius nodded, keeping his face under tight control. In person, Fallon wasn’t remotely impressive; weak chin, weak eyes and a countenance that suggested sheer terror. He would have been handsome—
perhaps because he was the product of bioengineering,
the nasty part of Marius’s mind suggested—if he had shown the moral character of the average dog. And like a dog, Fallon would undoubtedly have preferred to hide under the bed while others fought the battle for him.

He
had
managed to get through the report all right, but there was something still off about the man, something that suggested a simple inability to comprehend what was actually happening. He would have to shape up, Marius decided, and quickly, or else he would be relieved of command. No admiral could have a commander who didn’t know what he was doing at the helm of the defense forces; if he’d been in this position earlier in his career, he would have made damn sure that
anyone
standing in the line of command knew what the hell they were supposed to do in an emergency.

“And the freighters?” Marius asked.

“The fighters are moving to intercept now,” Fallon’s operations officer confirmed. His nametag read CAFFERY. “The gunboats are moving up in pursuit. So far, there’s been no response from the freighters, but the enemy starfighters are moving away into deep space.”

“Right,” Marius said, thinking hard. Were they heading towards cloaked carriers, or were they trying to mislead the defenders and planning to dog-leg around towards the bulk freighters once they were out of sensor range? If the latter, they were going to be disappointed. Earth’s sensor network was second to none and the fighters would burn through their life support before they could escape its grasp. “And the StarCom?”

Fallon cleared his throat. “It was destroyed with EDS1,” he said carefully. Marius concealed a smile with an effort. Fallon clearly thought his superior had forgotten that little detail. “We don’t have any other link to Titan Base.”

The Inheritance Wars had traumatized the Senate, what with the mutinies that had broken out on many Federation Navy starships, including the ships assigned to Home Fleet. The Senate had responded by forbidding the deployment of Federation Navy starships to the Earth-Luna Sphere—the area of space surrounding Earth and Luna—and insisted that Home Fleet be based at Titan Base, which had been Federation Navy territory since the Last King of Titan had led his people to the stars. It allowed Home Fleet to exercise without public oversight, but it also ensured that there was a time delay before reinforcements could arrive at Earth. And there would be even more of a time delay because the defenders would—in theory—be limited to radio waves or laser beams, both of which travelled at merely the speed of light.

But there was a way around that.

“Use Case Omega and get in touch with Federation Intelligence,” Drake said. “You’ll find a contact code in the database. They should have their own StarCom.”

Fallon blinked. Marius understood his surprise. StarCom units cost upwards of twice the price of a new superdreadnaught, while they were limited in range and—once operational—alarmingly easy to target. The scientists kept promising they would find a way to reduce the price one day, but so far nothing had materialized. The fact that Federation Intelligence used StarCom units of their own was a closely-guarded secret. Marius had only found out about it because he’d needed to know.

He hoped that whoever had planned the attack on Earth
didn’t
know, or his ace in the hole would be no such thing.

“But sir—” Fallon started.

“Trust me,” Marius told him. “Oh, and don’t take no for an answer. Once they admit they have it, tell them that I want to link to Titan Base and open contact with Home Fleet. I want them to prepare to move on my command.”

He swung his chair around and tapped a control, resetting the display until it showed the entire Solar System. The grey sphere of the mass limit surrounding Sol, within which no stardrive could be used, shimmered into view, expanding out from the sun to a line just beyond Jupiter. The planets had their own mass limits, of course, yet Home Fleet could leave Titan Base and enter stardrive far quicker than if they had to depart from Earth. The planners had concluded it would speed up reaction times if there was an incident at any of the stars nearest Sol. Marius suspected they were being overly optimistic. The Blue Star War should have taught them the dangers of trying to coordinate operations over interstellar distances.

“Launch a shell of recon drones,” he ordered without taking his eyes off the display. “I want a second shell launched ten minutes after the first shell, and then I want recon fighters moved up in random patrol patterns. Someone’s out there, and I mean to find him before he finds us.”

Marius stroked his chin. Someone a very long time ago—probably as far back as the Roman legions—had said that wars were ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent sheer terror. He’d reached the battlestation and the enemy starfighters had been beaten off, but now he had to wait and see what happened. Unless random terror was the objective, there had to be an enemy fleet out there, heading towards Earth. And if they were expecting Home Fleet to sit on the sidelines until the fighting was over, he might have a chance to give them a nasty surprise.

“Sir,” Fallon announced, “Federation Intelligence has confirmed that they have a StarCom in the Earth-Luna Sphere. I don’t think they’re too happy with you.”

“Fuck them,” Marius said. This was no time for games. “Tell them to hold the unit at readiness once they send the first set of orders. We may not have time to power it up again...”

The display flashed a new icon, and then zeroed in on the escaping freighters. The icons representing intact ships had vanished, to be replaced by four expanding spheres of destruction. Marius swallowed a curse as the starfighters broke off, heading back to their parent fortresses, while gunboats closed in to investigate the remains of the freighters. The enemy, knowing they couldn’t escape, had triggered the self-destruct systems—or someone, hiding under cloak, had sent a destruct command to their ships. There was no way to know for sure.