Barbarians at the Gates (58 page)

“They don’t have much of a choice,” Marius reminded him dryly. “Send a general signal to all ships; fire at will.”

Magnificent
shook violently as she flushed her external racks toward the enemy ships. Every other superdreadnaught in the formation followed her lead, launching their own missiles to strike at the enemy in the wake of the starfighter assault. Hundreds of thousands of missiles flew at the enemy ships, which were grossly outnumbered by Marius Drake’s own forces.

Admiral Justinian’s forces returned fire at once, flushing their own external racks to prevent the missiles from being destroyed or detonated by incoming fire, adding thousands of icons to the display. It was the greatest single number of missiles in action that Marius had seen during his long career, although he’d read that some of the battles during the Inheritance Wars had involved more missiles and superdreadnaughts.

Admiral Justinian’s researchers hadn’t been entirely idle, he realized, as the recon drones he’d launched with the missiles started to report back. They didn’t seem to have the rumored miniaturized FTL communications system that the Senate had believed—or feared—Justinian possessed, but their ECM was greatly improved. A hundred phantom superdreadnaughts and carriers shimmered into view, tricking hundreds of missiles into wasting themselves on nonexistent targets. Their ECM was actually better than the ECM the ships of the Grand Fleet carried. It wasn’t good enough to fool recon drones or shipboard sensors, but it was more than good enough to fool the tiny missile seeker heads.

He allowed himself a cold smile as the missiles entered terminal engagement range and roared down on their targets. With so many missiles, he’d had the luxury of spreading his fire over every enemy superdreadnaught and carrier, capital ships already weakened by the starfighter pass that had left nine superdreadnaughts and a dozen carriers nothing more than burning debris. Justinian would have to defend all of his ships or risk losing them, which weakened his defense still further.

Marius smiled. Vaughn had taught him an old Marine proverb—
he who would be strong everywhere is strong nowhere
—and it applied, even in space warfare.

“We’ve taken out at least thirty ships,” Raistlin reported. “Nineteen more have been badly damaged...”

The intercom blared a warning. “All hands, brace for impact; I say again, all hands...”

Magnificent
shook violently, twice. Red icons flared on the damage control screen, then faded as the computers realized that the ship wasn’t badly damaged.

Marius muttered a curse under his breath as he realized that other ships hadn’t been so lucky. Five superdreadnaughts were gone, while
General Sampson
had been blown out of formation and was now streaming air as her crew fought desperately to save the ship. It was too late; before her captain could issue the order to abandon ship, her fusion plant blew and she vanished inside a ball of expanding plasma.

A number of the anti-starfighter cruisers had been destroyed as well, he saw. The enemy had either decided to take them out prior to hammering the superdreadnaughts or they’d simply been picked at random by missile brains. No one would ever know for sure.

“Minor damage to sections 4623G and 4878F,” the damage control officer reported to the captain.

Marius overheard the transmission through the datanet and allowed himself a moment of relief.
Magnificent
could still fly and energize a beam. With the two fleets converging, they would be entering energy range shortly...and then the real slaughter would begin.

“Signal to all ships,” he ordered the ops officer. “I am hereby authorizing rapid fire. I say again, rapid fire.”

“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.

A dull thunder could be heard, even within the flag bridge, as the superdreadnaught switched to rapid fire, launching missiles in sprint mode. Justinian’s men would find it much harder to intercept them before they reached their targets, although the targeting wouldn’t be so accurate.

“Sir, Admiral Mason is asking for orders,” Raistlin informed him.

“Tell him to concentrate on the enemy carriers,” Marius said with a nod. “The superdreadnaughts are to continue firing on the enemy superdreadnaughts.”

Most of Admiral Justinian’s carriers had been taken out, leaving Justinian with only a handful of ships that were able to rearm their starfighters. Once the rest of them were taken out, the enemy starfighters would be deprived of a base. They’d be fucked, completely. And then they’d have no choice, but to surrender—or die.

He kept his face impassive as two of his superdreadnaughts exploded in quick succession. And then
Admiral Rodney
died when a missile pulsed through her shields, speared through one of her fusion plants and detonated the antimatter warheads in her magazines.
Admiral Yamamoto
staggered out of formation, seemingly unhurt, but something had blown inside her hull; she vaporized. He barely noticed the death of the battlecruiser
Triumph
or the heavy cruiser
Kimball Kingston
. When superdreadnaughts were dying, each one taking over three thousand trained spacers and officers with her, the lighter ships seemed like small change.

“Arunika,” he said, keying his wristcom, “have you located the enemy flagship?”

“Negative,” Arunika said. “The enemy have their datanet locked tight.”

Marius doubted that it would be easy to locate Justinian’s flagship, so they’d just have to hope they destroyed her soon. The only proof he had that the enemy flagship was still intact was that their formation hadn’t shown any signs of panic or disintegration. Even under the best of circumstances, transfer of command wasn’t easy—and the middle of a battle was hardly the best of circumstances. The chaos that had followed Admiral Parkinson’s death bore mute witness to that.

“Understood,” Marius said, breaking the connection. He looked over at Raistlin, who was obviously waiting for orders. “Tell all ships to continue firing.”

* * *

Rampant Lion
screamed
as another missile slammed against her shields and raw energy burned through to her hull. The admiral’s flagship had led a charmed life, almost, until now. With the escorting carriers gone and most of the smaller ships destroyed in the crossfire, the remaining superdreadnaughts were almost alone.

Caitlin looked over at Admiral Justinian. She wondered if he realized that the battle was lost. Charging into the teeth of the enemy formation, energy weapons blazing, would inflict vast damage, but it would also lead to the complete destruction of his fleet.

“Pull us back from the enemy fleet,” Admiral Justinian ordered finally. His voice held the bitter tinge of defeat. “Order the remaining starfighters to cover our retreat.”

Caitlin knew that the admiral now realized that his fleet had been savaged and that he wouldn’t have much chance to extract even the surviving units from the disaster, and that was good. But the math didn’t add up. They would have to alter course and head to the mass limit, as they’d never make it back to the Asimov Point, and flee to Harmony with a much larger fleet snapping at their heels. This did not seem like sound strategy, especially as it reminded her of the Battle of Jefferson…except back then, they’d forced the Federation lickspittles to flee. Now the boot was on the other foot and she didn’t like it.

The superdreadnaught rocked again as another missile slammed through her shields. A second later, a dull
thud
echoed through the ship, a harbinger of doom. Caitlin didn’t need the brief report from damage control to know that they’d just lost one of the drive compartments. The superdreadnaught could no longer accelerate to her full speed, which left her helplessly trapped within enemy missile range. It wouldn’t be long before the enemy fleet blew the cripple into plasma, or attempted to force her to surrender.

And Admiral Justinian could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

“Admiral,” she said, checking her console, “the
Apollo
is within range for a transfer...”

“I’m going to die with my ship,” the admiral said firmly. “I will not leave her.”

“Admiral, you are the face of the movement,” Caitlin said sharply. “If you die here, the cause ends. You
have
to survive. Once you leave this ship, the remaining cripples can surrender in good conscience while the intact ships escape to the mass limit and vanish.”

Her logic was impeccable, but Admiral Justinian continued to hesitate.

Caitlin couldn’t wait any longer. Hoping he’d forgive her for this someday, she drew her stunner from her belt and stunned him before he could object. He’d be furious when he awoke, perhaps even order her execution, but at least he’d be alive.

And the cause wouldn’t die with him.

“Take him down to the shuttlebay and order them to transfer him to the
Apollo
,” she ordered the admiral’s personal guards curtly. Surprisingly, they didn’t shoot her; they simply nodded as one, then grabbed the admiral and got him out of there.

Caitlin sat down in the command chair with her stunner on her lap and watched the battle. Nearly half of the remaining ships were too badly crippled to hope of escape, even if the enemy stopped firing and let them go. And that wasn’t going to happen.

Her console buzzed.

“This is Shuttlebay One,” Lieutenant Gomez said. “The admiral is on his way.”

Caitlin watched the tiny shuttle as it fled towards the
Apollo
, praying that no marauding starfighter would intercept and destroy the shuttle. They were in luck. The battlecruiser picked up the shuttle, then turned to flee.

Godspeed, admiral,
she thought.
And pull a rabbit out of your hat once you get to Harmony. You’re going to need it.

Caitlin keyed her console and started to issue orders, all in the admiral’s name. The intact ships were to go to full military power and attempt to escape, while the cripples would cover them as long as possible before surrendering.

And then a second direct hit on her ship took out the remaining drive units, leaving the ship a drifting wreck. She watched the tactical display, eyes fixed on the Apollo, silently urging it to escape the system. Once she saw it safely beyond the mass limit, she turned to her communications officer.

“Raise the Federation Admiral. Inform him that we would like to surrender.”

It is a curious artefact, caused by the idiosyncratic warp and weft of the Asimov Point Chains, that your enemy may be on the end of a shorter communications and supply line than your own. Consider, for example, the case of the Buckhannon Campaign during the Inheritance Wars. It took the Federation months to send a message from one front to another; the Colonial Alliance could do it in a week.

-Observations on Military Tactics
,
3500 A.D.

Lombardi/Harmony System, 4097

Captain Caitlin Bowery was a very small woman, Marius thought, as she was escorted into his presence by two hulking Marine guards. Indeed, she looked almost child-like, although that meant nothing in a universe where people could alter themselves to fit any desired form. There was no mistaking the intelligence and determination in her eyes, however, nor the trepidation in her body language. The Marines hadn’t cuffed her, but she obviously knew she was a prisoner.

“Welcome aboard,” Marius said. He’d invited Vaughn and Tiffany to the meeting, while Williams had insisted on coming along. “I am sorry that we must meet under such circumstances.”

“So am I,” Caitlin said. She had a rich, warm voice that reminded him, just a little, of his sister. He felt an odd surge of warmth towards her. “Please allow me to congratulate you on your victory.”

He heard the bitterness in her tone and nodded.

“I understand from your crew”—of course, Vaughn’s Marines had interrogated the superdreadnaught’s bridge crew—”that Admiral Justinian made his escape, with a little help from you. You’ll be pleased to know that his battlecruiser and a number of other ships made it over the mass limit and vanished.”

“I made sure he’d get away,” Caitlin said. Her voice hardened. “What—exactly—are you going to do with my crews?”

Marius frowned. It was clear that she believed that her life was already lost to her. Why?

“We won’t do anything to the vast majority of your crewmen,” he said. He was tempted to point out that they were, in fact,
Admiral Justinian’s
crewmen, but decided that would be pointless. “They will be held until the end of the war, then most of them can be discharged from the service. There would be little point in prosecuting them. As Admiral Justinian refrained from war crimes, or acts forbidden by the Articles of War...”

“Apart from mutiny and barratry, of course,” Caitlin pointed out sourly.

“I believe that there is little point in holding them for trial by a war crimes tribunal,” Marius concluded, ignoring the interruption. “They will be required to give a full account of their service under Admiral Justinian. If we discover that they have lied to us, we may reopen the question of their future standing, but I do not think they will be exiled.”