The Shadow of Cincinnatus (15 page)

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Juneau said.

Charlie nodded and forced himself, again, to relax. One way or the other, they were committed now. Right across the Rim, small squadrons of starships, insurgent cells and even single-person operatives were getting the command to go into action. The Federation had faced uprisings before, but never anything on this scale. Even the Inheritance Wars, as bloody as they’d been, had never been on such a scale. Maybe even the Grand Senate would have grown sick of the slaughter if they had.

“The fleet has responded,” Lieutenant Juneau said. She sounded relieved, although she should have known better. Charlie had no intention of biting heads off for asking questions, particularly ones that might expose problems
before
they were used against him. “They’re ready to move on your command.”

“Send the signal,” Charlie ordered. At the speed of light, the radio signal would still take seven hours to reach its destination. But it would beat the fleet there by nine hours. “Tell them to move at the designated time.”

He shook his head slowly as the timer started to tick down to zero. The Federation had been foolish to leave so many people convinced that it was evil and utterly untrustworthy, even now an emperor had replaced the Grand Senate. There was so much hatred along the Rim that countless worlds could be trusted to simply fall into Outsider hands the moment the fleet appeared in their system. Hell, there were rebel cells within the inner worlds, cells that wanted their own independence, no matter the cost. It was just a shame they hadn’t been able to subvert many officers from the Federation Navy. In the wake of the Justinian War, even contacting an officer had been deemed too risky. The Grand Senate’s security measures had seen to that.

“The fleet is ready to cloak,” Lieutenant Juneau said. “Sir?”

“Cloak us,” Charlie ordered. He sat upright, slowly. On the display, seven squadrons of superdreadnaughts and hundreds of smaller ships slowly dimmed as they activated their cloaking devices. Beyond them, the fleet train waited. It would either join them in the system after a victory or run back to the Beyond, if the fleet lost. “And then take us into the system, as planned.”

One of the gravest threats to any system is internal subversion. An outside attack can force the system to surrender, after punching through the defenses, but internal treachery can deliver the system and its facilities into enemy hands.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Athena, 4098

Corporal Mark Canty rather enjoyed the posting to
Big Brick
, as her crew affectionately called the outdated battlestation. Sure, it wasn’t duty on a planet’s surface, where the Marines might find themselves patrolling one day and helping to find a missing child the next, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. The station’s CO might have been relieved of command for what had been termed gross incompetence – Mark had heard that it was rather worse than mere incompetence – yet the remainder of the crew seemed surprisingly welcoming. Maybe they hadn’t liked their former commander very much.

It wasn’t a challenging duty, either. The platoon of Marines were merely expected to rotate between the CIC and their quarters, keeping an eye on the station’s crew. Mark suspected that they were merely there to remind the crew that there
was
a Federation out there, when most of them might have forgotten it since the system had been cut off by the war. There weren’t enough Marines to take over and operate the station on their own, if it were deemed necessary. It bothered the lieutenant enough that he’d sent at least three messages back to the fleet, requesting reinforcements. But there were none to be had.

He stood outside the hatch leading into the CIC and tried to keep himself from dozing off. Guard duty was the worst, in his opinion; he still recalled the Drill Instructors yelling at him and his fellow recruits when they’d fallen asleep on duty. If the insurgents had discovered them, the instructors had bellowed, they would have had their throats cut before they had a chance to wake up and defend themselves. It wasn’t one of his finest memories from Boot Camp. But it was hard to remain alert when the station crew seemed completely harmless.

The hatch opened, revealing a pair of officers in the bright red uniforms of the local system defense force. It made them looked ghastly, in Mark’s opinion, but he kept that thought to himself. Besides, the form-fitting uniforms worn by female officers were keepers, even if they
did
prove that the system defense force didn’t plan on doing any actual
fighting
. It was the little miniskirts some of the juniors wore that made him certain of it.

“Still on duty, Marine?” One of the officers asked. “Isn’t it boring out here?”

“It has its moments,” Mark said. They were meant to be friendly, after all. “And it could be worse.”

“Very true,” the officer agreed. “Good luck.”

They strode off down the corridor, chatting about nothing in particular. Mark eyed their backs, then forced himself back into guard position. It
was
boring, without even the prospect of boredom being suddenly transformed into screaming terror. He heard the sound of someone else entering the corridor and tilted his head, then smiled as he caught sight of Yolanda Flanna. She was a young girl, barely out of her teens, wearing a miniskirt so short that he could see the bottom of her ass. It said a great deal about the former CO, the Marines had quietly agreed, that he’d brought Yolanda onto the station in the first place...
and
that she’d stayed on the station when he’d been relieved of duty and sent elsewhere. Playing at being a maid, and carrying mugs of coffee from one duty station to another, was better than staying with her former superior. Mark didn’t blame her in the slightest.

“Hi,” he said.

He’d tried to court her – all of the Marines and most of the station staff had tried to court her – but she’d been unreceptive. Maybe it was hard to blame her for that too. He was fresh out of Boot Camp, yet some of the tales told by the old sweats had chilled him to the bone. A Drill Sergeant Nasty type, ready to threaten extreme punishment for even the slightest mistake, was preferable to some of the bluebloods who occupied high command positions in the Federation Navy, the ones who took advantage of their subordinates for their own sick pleasure. Thankfully, the war had gotten rid of most of
those
.

“Hi,” Yolanda said. She held up her tray, holding a dozen steaming mugs of coffee. “Would you like one of these?”

“I’m on duty,” Mark said, reluctantly. Coffee sounded very nice right now. He was having quite enough trouble keeping his eyes open without it. “How strong is it?”

“Military-grade,” Yolanda said. She waggled the tray invitingly. “I made an extra one for you.”

Mark hesitated, then took one of the mugs. The coffee was black, no sugar, just as he’d been taught to like it in Boot Camp. Yolanda gave him a smile as he sipped the coffee – it tasted suitably foul – then stepped up to the hatch, which hissed open. Mark watched her go – she was worth watching – then sighed inwardly as the hatch hissed closed. He turned back to his post, drinking the coffee quickly before the lieutenant could arrive...

And then a sudden wave of tiredness overcame him. Before he could catch himself, before he could do anything, even trigger the emergency alert, he collapsed. He was asleep before his body hit the floor.

* * *

It had taken months to get herself assigned to the crew, Yolanda recalled, as the CIC staff collapsed at their consoles. The former CO had been a man of very few charms and a passionate liking for sexual activities that might not have been
technically
illegal, but would still cause problems for him if they ever became public. Getting him to take her on as his stewardess – a thinly-disguised term for mistress – had been simple enough. Enduring his company long enough for her superiors to finally come take the system had been much harder. There had been quite enough days when she’d seriously considered arranging an accident for the bastard. It would have been easy. He’d never thought of her as anything beyond a pair of tits on legs.

And then he’d been removed from command. She’d almost found herself crying and laughing when she’d heard the news. He hadn’t been relieved for perversions, particularly perversions that would have made him a suitable candidate for blackmail, but for gross incompetence. To be fair, he
was
grossly incompetent. But it had come far too close to ruining all her work. Thankfully, no one had questioned why she’d wanted to remain on the battlestation. They’d been so grateful for her quiet assistance that no one had bothered to insist she leave.

She sat down in front of the tactical station and started to type commands into the system. It should have been inaccessible without the proper command codes, but – thanks to the former commander’s carelessness – she had access to all areas, without needing a hacking chip that might have been detected by the Marines. He’d definitely never taken her seriously. Piece by piece, she locked down the system and then started to purge the databanks. It would take weeks of effort to undo what she’d done, even if the crew realized the scale of the disaster at once. By then, the battle for Athena would have been won or lost.

Smiling to herself, she linked the battlestation into the overall planetary command net and started to upload chaos software. It had been six years since Admiral Justinian had used a similar tactic, she knew, and the results were unlikely to be wholly effective. But it would provide a distraction, even if it didn’t knock out the entire system. And that was what she needed to do.

* * *

“Commodore, this is Palter. We just picked up a FLASH alert from Asimov Point One.”

Roman swore, then pushed the datapad aside. “What level of alert?”

“Priority Two,” Palter said. “Someone infected the battlestation command network with chaos software. There are additional reports of shootings and uprisings on other battlestations and at least one of them has dropped out of the network completely.”

“Understood,” Roman said. He thought, rapidly. The Asimov Point was two light-hours from the planet itself. By now, the situation might have resolved itself – or blossomed rapidly out of control. And no one would reveal their assets on the battlestations without being sure it would be worthwhile. “Bring the fleet to full alert, then launch a spread of drones. I want this region of space quartered until we know it’s clear.”

“Aye, sir,” Palter said.

“And dispatch a squadron of fast battlecruisers to the Asimov Point,” Roman added. The modern battlecruisers were the fastest ships in his fleet, capable of even outrunning destroyers when their wind was up. “I want a comprehensive report of what the fuck is going on.”

He grabbed his jacket, then walked down the corridor into the CIC. There were no red icons on the display, but several yellow icons had flickered into existence over a handful of battlestations. Thankfully, Admiral Justinian’s attack on Earth had spurred the development of new defenses against chaos software, but it would still be a major headache. He would bet half his salary that Governor Barany hadn’t bothered to make spreading the new techniques a priority.

Fifth Fleet should be immune
, he thought.
But the local defenses might be in real trouble
.

“Crash the planetary defense network,” he ordered. “We can route command authority through us.”

Palter stared at him. “Sir?”

“Just do it,” Roman snapped. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “The planetary defense network isn’t safe. If they’re using chaos software, it will spread into the battlestations and starships, shutting them both down. We have to stop them before it’s too late.”

“Aye, sir,” Palter said.

He paused. “Sir, we’re picking up reports of attacks on the planet’s surface. And shooting on several of the orbital stations.”

Roman nodded, unsurprised. “Once the fleet is at full alert, move us away from the planet,” he ordered. It was crucial that he avoided being trapped against the planet, all the more so if the orbital defenders were untrustworthy. The odds rather favored the mystery attackers having assets on the battlestations too. “And keep a direct link to the Marines on the surface.”

He cursed under his breath as he sat down. Emperor Marius – he’d been Admiral Drake at the time – had told him that there would be times when all he could do was watch and wait for the situation to become clear. As a lowly captain, Roman hadn’t understood what he’d been told. Now, he understood all too well. The planet was under attack, the fleet was in danger and he wasn’t even sure who he was fighting.

But he was sure it was part of a larger plan.

“Send a signal to Asimov Points One and Two,” he ordered. “They are to dispatch drones through the Asimov Points at once. The Federation must be warned.”

“Aye, sir,” Palter said.

* * *

Lieutenant Chas Parker disliked Athena intensely. It was rich enough to be settled, yet poor enough – and isolated enough – to dislike the thought of being part of the Federation. The locals hadn’t started hurling things at the Marines yet, thankfully, but they didn’t seem obliged to make them feel welcome. Indeed, Chas had the feeling that the locals were only biding their time before they turned on the Marines. It was why he had placed an entire platoon on guard duty and kept another platoon, under his personal command, in reserve.

He gritted his teeth as the hot air drifted over the warehouse complex they’d converted into a makeshift barracks for the company, ever since they’d been told there were no more suitable barracks available. The Marines had suspected that they had been deliberately placed on the edge of Athena City, far too close to the poorest and most discontented citizens on the planet. What they
hadn’t
been able to decide was if they had been left there as a show of contempt, or if they’d been put there as a firebreak against an uprising from the poor. The poor had nothing to lose, after all, and what remained of the planet’s government might think that having the Marines put down the riot would allow them to blame any excesses on the Marines, rather than the local security forces.