Barbarians at the Gates

Chapter Forty-Five

Harmony System, 4097

“Crossing the mass limit now, sir,” the helmsman said.

“Transmit our IFF codes and the admiral’s message,” Roman ordered. “Notify me the moment he replies.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the communications officer said.

Roman felt exposed as Midway flew deeper into the Harmony System, even though he knew the remainder of the Grand Fleet would be coming in behind him. Still, if Admiral Justinian decided to fight to the last, Midway would be almost completely on her own.

Four hours ticked by as they advanced into the system.

Roman ordered the launch of stealth recon drones, which would allow them to develop an outline of the system. What they picked up wasn’t encouraging. As the Sector Capital, Harmony had been heavily industrialized before the war, but Admiral Justinian’s men had clearly been busy. Harmony’s current level of industry now ranked with Kennedy or Roosevelt; given a few more years it might match Earth. Worse yet, the planet itself was heavily defended. That wasn’t a surprise, but Roman had still been hoping for a bit less in the way of fortifications.

Roman knew it would be difficult for the Grand Fleet to take the system by force.

“Captain, I am picking up a message,” the communications officer said, finally. “They’re welcoming us to the system and requesting that we rendezvous with their fleet so the admiral’s representatives can be transferred to meet with the admiral.”

Roman nodded slowly. There was no hope of a two-way conversation at this distance and no real hope of convincing Admiral Justinian to board his ship instead. He consoled himself by thinking, At least Admiral Drake’s wife isn’t in danger this time.

Besides, even if it was a trap, it would only close around Midway. The remainder of the Grand Fleet was too far out of range.

“Transmit back an acknowledgement,” he said. The feeling of being exposed was growing stronger. The IFF signal they were pulsing out would allow them to be tracked by passive sensors alone, which meant that anyone lying in wait would be able to target his ship without any betraying emissions. “Inform them that we will rendezvous with their fleet in—” he checked his console “—two hours and thirty minutes.”

He felt no calmer when Midway finally slowed near Justinian’s fleet. It wasn’t a particularly large fleet, but it still possessed more than enough firepower to reduce Midway to atoms. Nine superdreadnaughts—two of them clearly damaged—five battlecruisers and twenty-seven smaller ships, surrounded by a cloud of starfighters. It wasn’t an insignificant force, not on the pre-war scale, but the Grand Fleet would destroy it in short order if it had the chance. Roman was mildly surprised that the admiral hadn’t insisted on meeting on or near Harmony itself—as they had anticipated—and had been preparing to argue that point when it had been rendered moot. He tried to tell himself that was a good thing.

“Hold us here,” he ordered. They were well within shuttle range, but at the absolute edge of missile range. It wasn’t a particularly trusting position, but then he wasn’t a particularly trusting man. He keyed his console. “Shuttlebay One, are you ready to fly?”

“Aye, sir,” the shuttlebay operator reported. “Captain—ah, Commodore—Bowery has been checked out on the shuttle, and is ready to launch.”

“Good,” Roman said. “Clear her for departure.”

He settled back in his command chair as the shuttle departed, heading towards one of the undamaged superdreadnaughts. One of his crew had suggested rigging an antimatter bomb in the shuttle and detonating it if negotiations broke down, but Admiral Drake had vetoed the suggestion, as that would be seen as an attack on Admiral Justinian under a flag of truce. Roman had accepted the rebuke with ill grace.

“Captain, she has reached the admiral’s ship,” the sensor officer reported.

Roman nodded.

“And now, we wait,” he said. He looked over at the tactical officer. “Keep us at condition-one. If they start moving to attack, I want to be out of here before they get into point-blank range.”

The squad of guards who met them at the shuttlebay were brisk, formal and very efficient. Caitlin and Henrietta were both strip-searched and scanned using the most advanced sensor technology, while the shuttle itself was practically dismantled by shuttle techs. Once their identities had been confirmed and the shuttle itself had been pronounced clean, they were escorted to the superdreadnaught’s flag bridge. The cry of astonishment from the admiral when he saw his daughter made everything worthwhile.

“I thought you were dead,” the admiral said, hugging his daughter tightly. “I thought…”

Caitlin wasn’t too surprised. He’d had years to regret sending his daughter to marry a stranger, in hopes of binding two warlords together. At least she was alive.

He gave Caitlin a hug as well, and then settled back in his command chair, all business.

“All right,” he said. “Admiral Drake’s message said that you were peace envoys. What do you have to say for yourself?

Caitlin had known Admiral Justinian for nearly twenty years. There was something in his voice that was odd. Soft…and dangerous.

“Admiral Drake is willing to offer you and your senior personnel, myself included, internal exile if you surrender without further bloodshed,” Caitlin told him. “Junior personnel will not be persecuted by the Federation.”

His face was completely expressionless. That was not a good sign.

“The same offer, in other words, that they made to Bester,” Admiral Justinian said. His voice was very cold. “The same offer they wantonly betrayed.”

He keyed his console and the report from Bester played. Colonel Scudder must have wanted to send a very clear message to the population, so he’d broadcast the executions live on every news and communications channel. An entire star system had seen the Federation not only go back on its sworn word, but slaughter small children who hadn’t committed treason.

Caitlin felt sick. Had Admiral Drake known about it? she asked herself. Had the Senate ordered it, against Drake’s wishes? There was no way for her to know.

“Surrender is not an option,” Admiral Justinian said.

Caitlin found it impossible to disagree, even though she’d given her parole. If Admiral Drake had lied to her…where did that leave her? She wrestled with her conscience for a long moment, trying to convince herself that she could rightfully break her sworn word. An oath breaker was owed no consideration by others, she told herself.

“Captain Garibaldi took me in,” Henrietta said. “He protected me at risk of his own life—and career…”

Justinian rounded on his daughter.

“I’m sure he’s a perfectly good man,” he snapped. “But the Senate ordered the deaths of everyone who surrendered on Bester! Why the hell should we surrender when all we face is certain death?”

He turned and met Caitlin’s eyes. “We will lose the coming battle,” he said, “but at least we will make them hurt.”

There was no time to say a word before the admiral keyed his console.

“All units, this is the admiral,” he said. “Open fire!”

There was very little warning. “Captain, they just locked active sensors onto our hull,” the sensor officer reported. “They’re…”

“Incoming fire,” the tactical officer snapped. “Multiple missile launches; I say again, multiple missile launches!”

“Helm, get us out of here,” Roman snapped, as Midway spun in space. There was little point in returning fire against the behemoths targeting the tiny cruiser, but they could still launch ECM drones that would confuse the incoming missiles. Or perhaps it wouldn’t. They were still broadcasting their IFF right across the system. “Launch countermeasures and cut the IFF!”

The math didn’t add up, he realized. They’d been at extreme range when the enemy opened fire, but they weren’t able to get away from it before the missiles struck home. Admiral Justinian had fired enough missiles to destroy the ship several times over.

“Bring up the point defense and engage as soon as the enemy missiles enter range,” he ordered. “Launch shipkillers as emergency counter-missile defenses.”

Midway shivered as she launched the shipkillers towards the enemy missiles. The bean-counters would complain loudly when they saw the cost, but he had a dark suspicion that their concerns were about to be rendered moot. The ship was humming around him as her drive built up power, yet it wasn’t going to be enough to escape. The point defense went to rapid fire as the missiles came closer and closer, winnowing their ranks, but too many of them were going to get through the defenses.

“Reroute all power to shields,” he ordered grimly. It risked overloading the shield generators and total collapse, but there was no other choice. “Signal Admiral Drake—do a complete dump. He has to know what happened here.”

They almost made it, but a handful of missiles entered terminal attack range and went to sprint mode. Four missiles struck Midway, one after the other, slamming the ship into an uncontrolled spin through space. A fifth slammed home a moment later and, just for a second, the artificial gravity flickered and reversed. Roman had a moment where he saw the ceiling coming up to meet him, and then the world went black…

The tactical officer looked up, sharply. “They fired on Midway!”

Marius stared, unable to believe his eyes. He’d sent Captain Bowery to Admiral Justinian with a fair offer—more than fair—and the man had opened fire. Why?

What was going through Justinian’s head? He had to know he couldn’t beat the Grand Fleet; hell, considering Justinian’s current position, he couldn’t even fall back to Harmony before the Grand Fleet entered missile range. The remains of his fleet were going to be crushed…it wasn’t as if Marius could show them mercy, not now.

He shivered. The admiral had even thrown away the life of his daughter.

“All units, accelerate to flank speed,” he ordered. He felt as through a stranger was speaking through his mouth, someone hard and cold, willing to do whatever it took to win. “Prepare to engage the enemy.”

“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.

Magnificent shivered slightly as her drive pushed her forward, heading right towards the enemy formation. Admiral Justinian wasn’t even trying to run! He was coming towards them, as if he hoped he could bull his way into energy range.

“Admiral Mason is requesting permission to launch starfighters, sir,” Raistlin told him.

“Granted,” Marius said. It was overkill, but he didn’t care. The object was to win; he’d worry about the level of force used later. “Status of Midway?”

Raistlin checked the readings. “Adrift, total power failure,” he said. He sucked in a breath. “But everyone’s alive, their communication officer has reported; she’s a very lucky ship.”

“She has a very lucky captain,” Marius countered. “Order a destroyer to be detached for SAR duties; I want everyone pulled off that ship, if possible.”

He watched grimly as the two fleets came into missile range. It might not be possible to pull anyone off Midway, not if the internal compensators had failed. Indeed, the only proof that they had some power left was that the ship was still intact. Losing the magnetic containment fields that held the antimatter would have blown the ship into dust. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on the oncoming fleet. Admiral Justinian didn’t seem to be launching his own starfighters on strike missions; instead, he seemed to be focusing on antifighter defense and keeping Marius’s starfighters off his back.

“It seems he refused to surrender, admiral,” Williams said. The Political Commissioner sounded as if he were terrified, but was trying to hide it. “I thought you promised that he would surrender.”

Marius bit down the response that came to mind. It wouldn’t have helped the situation to swear at the commissioner.

“I know,” he said finally. “He can’t win. Even if he closes to energy range without getting his ships shot from under him, he still can’t win. So why is he throwing his life away?”

He keyed his console as the enemy superdreadnaughts came into range. “Open fire,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.

Magnificent shuddered as she flushed her external racks, followed by the slightly heavier sound of the first barrage from her internal tubes. Combined with the other ships in the Grand Fleet, hundreds of thousands of missiles were roaring toward their targets.

Admiral Justinian’s barrage—launched at the same moment—was pitiful in comparison. He’d selected a couple of Marius’s superdreadnaughts for special attention…which was odd. He was leaving the remainder of Marius’s superdreadnaughts unattended.

“Admiral, twelve new ships just lit off their drives,” the tactical officer reported.

Marius felt his blood run cold. Had he just led his men into a trap?

“They read out as medium freighters, pulling military-grade acceleration,” the tactical officer continued. “They’re heading right towards the edge of our formation.”

Marius blinked, puzzled. Freighters were not warships, no matter how many weapons and defense systems were crammed into their hulls. They couldn’t maneuver worth a damn and a single hit could be devastating. It seemed a pointless exercise, except Admiral Justinian wasn’t stupid. Using the freighters suggested that Justinian had more in mind than just distracting Marius from the battle.

“Order the Longsword to switch her fire to the lead freighter,” Marius said. From the sensor readings, it was evident that someone had also crammed a military-grade shield generator and fusion core into the freighters. No one would waste those resources if they didn’t think they could get something out of it. “I want…”

The display flashed white, just for a second.

“Sir, the lead freighter blew up,” Raistlin reported. He sounded astonished.

Marius didn’t blame him for a second.

“Sir…she was crammed with antimatter. If she’d hit a superdreadnaught, or if the starfighters had engaged her…”

“They would have been blown to dust,” Marius concluded. Kamikazes! In hindsight, an obvious trick. “Order the destroyer screen to engage the freighters at long range; take them out before they take us out.”

There was another benefit from the antimatter-crammed freighters, he realized quickly, feeling numb. As soon as they exploded, they disrupted the datanet that bound his ships together. In the seconds it took to repair the datanet, enemy missiles were able to slip through the point defense. They slammed against his ships.

Two superdreadnaughts vanished in balls of fire, followed by a battlecruiser that had been targeted for some unknown reason. Admiral Justinian’s force was being torn apart, and yet he was still continuing the offensive. He was mad.

He had to be mad.

“Switch to rapid fire,” Marius ordered, as the enemy ships came closer. They were still fighting savagely, even though Justinian was down to four superdreadnaughts and only a handful of smaller craft. All of his ships had taken heavy damage. “Take them out!”

“The freighters have all been destroyed, admiral,” the tactical officer reported.

“A shame it wasn’t Parkinson in command,” Admiral Justinian commented.

Caitlin barely heard him. Her training had been thorough, but she’d never seen such a savage battle in her entire career, even during a direct Asimov Point assault. There was no rhyme or reason any longer, just sheer pointless slaughter. Caitlin looked over at the admiral’s daughter and realized that Henrietta was terrified. The poor girl had never been in a real battle.

“Parkinson would have let us get the freighters into ramming position before he opened fire,” Justinian concluded amiably, as if there was nothing wrong at all in his corner of the universe.

“Yes, sir,” Caitlin agreed automatically. She recalled herself to duty. “Sir, this is madness!”

“I know,” Admiral Justinian said. “What other choice do we have?”

The entire superdreadnaught shuddered as a missile slammed against her hull. The damage control teams had effectively given up on repairing the outer compartments, knowing that they would all be blown to atoms before too long. She was still firing, but Caitlin doubted that they would be able to maintain a solid rate of fire for much longer. “What other choice do we have?”

“Surrender to a bunch of murderers?” He waved a hand at the display.

Caitlin opened her mouth, and then closed it again without speaking. The admiral was right. They couldn’t surrender, not when it meant their certain deaths. The only thing they could do was keep firing, and pray for a miracle.

“Father,” Henrietta said, “they saved my life…”

“Be quiet,” Justinian snapped.

Caitlin watched numbly as one of their remaining superdreadnaughts vanished from the display, followed quickly by one of the smaller ships. The enemy switched their fire to other targets and, suddenly, the admiral’s ship was targeted heavily. New damage started to mount as enemy missiles slashed into the hull. The shields were failing…

“Admiral…” she began.

And then the hammer of God struck the ship. There was a brief moment of fire and pain, and then nothing.

“Admiral, the last of the enemy ships is trying to surrender,” Raistlin reported.

Marius stared at him.

“They’ve cut weapons and drives, sir,” he told him. “They’re only maintaining their shields.”

“Hold fire,” Marius ordered. The darker part of his mind told him to finish the job, to obliterate the madmen who’d fought an impossible battle and lost. But he refused to listen to it. “Toby, launch a Marine Recon unit to secure the damaged ship.”

“Aye, sir,” Vaughn said.

“And send a message to Harmony,” Marius added. “Inform them that we have won the battle and that we require their immediate surrender in order to end further bloodshed.”

“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.

It took an hour to receive Harmony’s unconditional surrender. Marius spent the time checking on his ships. The savage battle had inflicted far more damage than it should have, leaving too many of his ships out of commission for the time being. At least they’d have access to Harmony’s shipyards, once the surrender had been finalized.

He was still mulling over the possibilities when Vaughn called him and informed him that he had sent a file to his private database. Marius opened the file and watched in horror as Bester was purged of unreliable elements, men and women who had surrendered—along with their families. He’d promised them safety—and now they were dead.

Gritting his teeth, he looked over at Williams, who was surveying the reports from the teams that had been dispatched to secure the shipyards, and felt cold rage pouring through his heart. No wonder Admiral Justinian had refused to surrender. He had had good reason not to trust Marius’s promises…

Damn you, he thought angrily. He wasn’t sure if he was angry at the commissioner, at the Senate, or at himself for not realizing that leaving someone like Scudder in charge was asking for trouble in the first place. What are you going to do next?