Barbarians at the Gates

Chapter Thirty-Four

Earth, Sol System, 4095

Marius whistled cheerfully as he was escorted by one of the Senatorial aides into the classified briefing room just outside the Senate Hall. Based on five days of marriage, part of him insisted that he would enjoy it all, even though they barely knew one another and there was no time for a proper honeymoon. They’d spent four days in the Honeymoon Suite, with no one intruding on their privacy, and a fifth day visiting the underwater grottos at the North Pole. Marius knew from history that the North Pole had once had an icecap, but it had melted down long ago, causing the sea level to rise dramatically. That ecological disaster had had a major impact on humanity’s determination to move out into space.

“Watch your back,” Tiffany had warned him when they’d parted. “You may be High Society now, legally, but not all of the young bucks and blades are going to accept you.”

Marius had taken her words to heart when he’d visited the Admiralty, but no one there had personally doubted him. A few old women of both genders had raised objections to his operational plans—at least the plans he’d chosen to share with them—and it had taken hours of arguing to convince them to accept the plans without major modifications. He had to admit that they had a point—the plans he’d shared with them were not particularly imaginative and therefore they would be predictable—but that was part of the point. If anything leaked back to Admiral Justinian or the other warlords, they’d be misled.

Or so he hoped.

He was awed at the level of firepower the Federation had created. Once the expanded training camps had finished turning out the next few graduating classes, it would be possible to man and deploy new construction very quickly. A few more weeks to work up the ships, and the Federation Navy would hold a decisive advantage over the warlords.

Of course, if the warlords did manage to work together, the advantage wouldn’t be as decisive as Marius hoped, but it should suffice to weaken them. Once Admiral Justinian was defeated, the other warlords could be crushed one by one. They lacked the firepower to be a strategic threat. The real danger lay beyond the Rim.

“The room is now sealed,” Grand Senator Brockington said. “The Senate Subcommittee on the Conduct of the War is now in session.”

Marius nodded. The Leader of the Conservative Faction had been one of the few senior Senators to offer congratulations to Marius and Tiffany. Marius had had the odd feeling that he’d meant every word, unlike some of the others, who’d acted like Marius smelled bad.

“Thank you, Senator,” Grand Senator Alison Wallisch said. “There are many questions that need to be raised.”

Marius sighed. The Leader of the Socialist Faction hadn’t offered sincere congratulations to the newlyweds, but Marius had already deduced that there were limits to her socialism. The Socialist Faction might insist on gifting alien races with the benefits of human technology, yet doing so also had the effect of permanently neutralizing any threat those aliens might pose to humanity. Anything they might create for themselves was automatically branded as inferior.

He sat back and watched as the Senators sparred, sometimes calling on Admiral Fallon—the CO of Earth’s defense network—to answer specific questions. It seemed that there were accusations of war profiteering, although he couldn’t tell if the Senators were annoyed over the war profiteering itself or if they were merely upset that they weren’t skimming off the cream themselves. Judging from the messages he’d received from Professor Kratman, Marius would have bet good money that every Senator was profiting from the war, although it was an open question how long they could do so before there was an economic collapse. The Federation’s economy had been badly weakened by the war.

Other questions focused on operations against other warlords. General Williamston, who had carved out a vest-pocket kingdom of four stars and nine planets, had been defeated in a short and bloody campaign. The General had somehow failed to realize that his little Kingdom didn’t have the firepower to prevent the Federation Navy from sending a squadron of superdreadnaughts through the Asimov Point and punching out his orbital fortresses, or that the Senate was desperate and ruthless enough to order planetary bombardment as a response to his refusal to surrender.

Marius hadn’t been involved in that campaign—he’d been watching Admiral Justinian—but he’d been sickened by the reports. The Federation Navy hadn’t quite bombed the planet back to the Stone Age, yet that had only been avoided because the General’s subordinates shot him in the head and surrendered unconditionally.

That example boded ill for the worlds Admiral Justinian had brought under his banner. Some worlds had followed him willingly, but others—like Jefferson—hadn’t been given much of a choice in the matter. But that might not matter to the Senate, not when Jefferson was a money-maker for whoever owned the system. They’d be happy to remove the old government, put a Federation Governor in place and milk it for all that it was worth, along with a secret police to ferret out all independence movements and revisionists.

No matter what happened with Jefferson, Marius knew, it wasn’t going to end well.

“Admiral Drake,” Brockington said.

Marius looked up.

“I understand that you have a proposal to put before the Committee.”

“Yes, Senator,” Marius said, and avoided saying what he was thinking: Finally! “I believe the operational plan I have drawn up will lead to the quick defeat of Admiral Justinian and the end of the war.”

He stood up and keyed the room’s terminal. He’d uploaded the operational plan into it as soon as he entered the room. The Senate’s computer network was supposed to be inaccessible from the outside, but Marius had long since stopped taking such statements for granted. The chances were good that one of Admiral Justinian’s allies had slipped a tap onto the network before they were exposed or executed—if they had been discovered.

“Senators, here’s the situation at present,” he announced. “As you can see”—he’d discovered that most of the Senators couldn’t read a tactical display, so he had to use simple concepts—”we remain on guard in the Boskone System, the shortest line between Earth and Harmony. We have also positioned forces here, here and here”—he keyed the systems as he mentioned them—”to prevent the enemy from trying to bypass our blockade and take us from the rear. So far, Admiral Justinian has not attempted to launch such an offensive.”

“That’s good,” Alison said. “Do you have any explanation as to why?”

Marius smiled. ONI had turned up several, but only one was significant.

“All three alternate routes to Earth would add several months to the journey,” he pointed out. “If the admiral did shift forces through them, we would be able to counter him before he reached anywhere significant. His great advantage is that he holds the interior lines of defense, but if he attacks us away from Boskone, that advantage shifts back to us. With the advantage of the superior firepower we possess, it would ensure his certain defeat.

“The important detail is that we have fortified Boskone to the point where we can be confident of holding the system even without the mobile units,” he continued. He pointed to the fortresses on the display. “We have shipped in additional starfighters and fortress components, secured the planetary network and even fortified the other Asimov Point in the system. That allows us to take the risk of withdrawing our mobile units, combining them with the new-build units, and launching an offensive of our own.”

“I beg your pardon, admiral,” a Senator that Marius didn’t recognize interrupted. “I understood that you refused to consider attacking through the Boskone Asimov Point because the rogue warlord had heavily fortified it.”

“Yes, Senator,” Marius agreed. “That would be a very costly offensive for little reward. The key to winning this campaign is to reduce the enemy’s mobile units to the point where we can isolate his systems and reduce them one by one. Pitting our own mobile units against his fortresses would be asking for trouble. I do, however, have another plan.”

He keyed the console and the star chart shifted, displaying the links between Justinian and Governor Hartkopf. “As you were all briefed in confidence, Admiral Justinian has been tricked into a shooting war with Governor Hartkopf, who occupies the stars here. It was a fortunate turn of events for us, as we have good reason to believe that they were on the verge of signing an alliance when they started fighting each other. So far, the war hasn’t been significant as neither warlord dares devote most of his firepower to dealing with the other, but that may change. I intend to use Governor Hartkopf’s space to launch a major operation against Admiral Justinian’s unprotected underbelly.”

A low murmur ran through the room, but no one said anything, allowing Marius to proceed.

“The combined fleet will proceed through the governor’s space to The Hive and cross the interstellar void to Marx,” he continued. “Once there, they will break through the defenses and advance on Jefferson. Assuming that everything goes to plan, the warlord will not be able to shift his forces to mount a defense of the Asimov Point before we reach Jefferson. We will meet his fleet in open space, where we can maneuver and crush his ships away from his fixed defenses. Once we occupy Jefferson, we will seal the Asimov Point to Harmony and demand his surrender. If he refuses to surrender, we will punch through to Harmony and destroy his government. His remaining forces will be scattered, no longer able to coordinate their actions, and we will be able to mop them up at leisure.”

There was a long pause.

“It sounds very nice,” Alison said, finally, “but weren’t we given predictions of an easy victory before?”

“Yes, Senator,” Marius said. “Admiral Parkinson promised you an easy victory.”

Most of the Senators chuckled.

“I don’t promise that this will be easy,” Marius admitted. “I think that there is going to be a great deal of hard fighting before we punch into enemy territory and neutralize him. It is going to be very costly. I do believe, however, that this is our best chance to win the war before the other warlords manage to build themselves up into significant threats.”

“It is an interesting concept,” Grand Senator Rupert McGillivray said warmly. He locked his eyes on Marius’s face. “But I have a question. You’re claiming that you can get through Hartkopf’s space. How do you intend to do that without fighting?”

“He slipped a small squadron through without fighting,” the unnamed Senator pointed out dryly. “Why not a whole fleet of superdreadnaughts?”

“It won’t be easy,” Marius said, taking a breath. If they were going to balk, it would be now. “I propose that we offer Governor Hartkopf amnesty if he surrenders without further ado.”

There was instant uproar.

“Are you mad?” Alison demanded angrily. “It is the position of the Senate that all warlords, their families and their allies must answer for their crimes against the Federation! Do you propose to change that on your authority? How dare you, admiral! How dare you?”

“It is certainly a provocative suggestion,” Brockington agreed. “And quite against the stated policy of the Senate. On the other hand, we did select the admiral in the belief that he actually knew what he was doing.”

He threw Alison an unreadable look. “Admiral, please expound on your suggestion for the benefit of the Senate.”

Marius kept his expression blank while he organized his thoughts.

“It is a basic principle of military tactics that one should always leave the enemy a line of retreat,” Marius said. “If the enemy can escape, they are less likely to fight hard and cost your forces heavily to defeat them. If the Snakes had offered to accept surrenders in the First Interstellar War, would we have been so determined to hold the line, liberate the occupied worlds and eventually destroy their ability to make war on us? We never accepted surrenders in the later years of that war, and it cost us badly.

“In this case, you—the Senate—have ordered the death of Admiral Justinian and his family and friends. It gives him nowhere to run, so he will fight. Why not? He might win—and even if he doesn’t win, he’ll hurt us badly. A man may accept his own death calmly, with composure, but what about his family and friends? What about those who took no part in the rebellion?

“So if we offer amnesty to Governor Hartkopf and his allies—with due steps taken to ensure that they are never in a position to rebel again—we will send a powerful message to our enemies. That message states that they can leave the war and keep their lives—and their families, and their children. And if the governor refuses to accept our terms, someone in his government will see the advantages in assassinating him and taking command himself, just so he can surrender promptly.”

He smiled. “If we gain access to Hartkopf’s space without fighting, Admiral Justinian won’t know about our advance until our missiles strike his bases in Marx. And by then it will be too late for him to react effectively. He will have to fight us on our terms—the one thing he has consistently refused to do—and he will lose that battle.”

“You seem very sure that he will lose,” Alison pointed out.

“I am confident,” Marius admitted. “We have worked our crews hard, training them and preparing for the grand offensive. The admiral cannot have massed the same level of mobile firepower. It all comes down to sheer mass and firepower, Senator, and we will have the advantage.”

For once, he was grateful for their limited understanding of military affairs. The bare bones of the plan were sound, but he’d altered several details. If Admiral Justinian did receive warning—perhaps even a detailed copy of the operational plan—he’d be misled. It would work either way; if the admiral took precautions, it would divert him from the real target, and if he failed to catch wind of the plan, he would miss the preparations entirely.

And, best of all, there would be no leaks because the only person who knew the real plan was Marius himself.

“We will consider your proposal,” Brockington said after another long pause. “We wish, however, to detail another operational change.”

Here it comes, Marius thought.

“It is regrettably true that many units of the Federation Navy have shown remarkable disloyalty in this time of chaos,” Brockington said smoothly. “We have had entire squadrons going over to warlords, or turning to piracy and carrying out depredations on entire planets. This cannot be tolerated.

“It has therefore been enacted that all starships will carry with them as part of their crews a Senatorial Commissioner, whose task will be to ferret out disloyalty and corruption wherever it might fester. The larger starships will also carry with them a company of Internal Security Division troopers, who will provide the muscle to deal with any disloyal officers and crew. The Marine detachments who would have normally provided internal security will be reconfigured into landing parties for the conquest of warlord-held worlds.”

Marius kept his face impassive, but he knew Vaughn wouldn’t be happy. Nor would anyone else.

“Furthermore, as there will be delays in communicating with the Senate, the commissioners will have command authority, with standing orders to overrule any orders that suggest disloyalty,” Brockington said. “We trust, admiral, that you will make their introduction as smooth as possible.”

If he hadn’t been warned, Marius knew, he would probably have been staring in horror.

“Senator,” he said carefully, “while I understand the need to ferret out disloyalty, I must protest at granting commissioners command authority. It is a principle of the Federation Navy that only the captain possesses absolute authority onboard his vessel. Adding in a separate source of command authority would only cause confusion at the worst possible time…”

“The commissioners are loyal,” Brockington said flatly. “It is that loyalty that makes them suitable for their role.”

“But do they know what they are doing in a war zone?” Marius asked angrily. “A person issuing orders without the right military background could…”

“Enough,” Brockington said sharply. “We have enacted their function into law. Further arguments are counter-productive. We will consider your proposal, admiral. Until then, I must ask you to wait outside.”

Marius nodded, saluted, and left the room.

“A very dangerous man,” Alison observed after the door closed behind the admiral. “Did you see his reaction to the commissioners? Why would he have such a reaction unless he had something to hide?”

“His concerns are valid,” Rupert pointed out dryly. “An untrained man could do a great deal of harm with a starship at his command.”

“But he was willing to offer Hartkopf the chance to live,” Alison countered. “How can we trust him to know where his best interests lie?”

“They lie with his wife, now,” Rupert said. “We chose carefully. They will not be able to help falling in love. Despite their different ages, they have a great many things in common.”

“Enough,” Brockington said. “We agreed to use Drake and we have no alternative, not now. We need to agree to his proposal and allow him to approach Hartkopf. We can always go back on it later.”

He stared down at his hands. “And when the war ends…?”

“We remove Drake,” Alison said flatly. Her voice, cold and ruthless, would have shocked many of her constituents. “We can deal with the other warlords without him.”

Rupert wasn’t too surprised. Like all of the Senators, Alison was more interested in maintaining her power than anything resembling fairness and justice.

Rupert allowed himself a cold smile. “And what about Lady Tiffany’s feelings?”

“Not our problem,” Alison said sharply. “The feelings of one little girl are of no concern to us, not when the entire Federation is at stake. She will find someone else.”

“Agreed,” Brockington said. “A trial would be too dangerous, not with the degree of loyalty Drake has built up over three years. We have the tools on hand. I’ll issue the orders personally. Once the war is over, Admiral Drake will be a dead man.”

From: The Chaos Years (5023)

Admiral Drake’s grand plan to terminate the war, once approved, went ahead at considerable speed. New warships were fitted out, new crews were trained and put into position and research into new weapons and tactics went on apace. In the meantime, the shooting war between the two rogue warlords continued, although neither side launched a major offensive.

The Senate’s paranoia, however, was growing ever stronger. The assignment of political commissioners to the Federation Navy was only the start. New Internal Security Divisions were created and sent to garrison worlds that were even mildly suspected of disloyalty. Thousands of undercover agents were infiltrated into every spectrum of society. The penal worlds soon started receiving thousands of unwilling colonists who had been accused—often with very flimsy evidence—of disloyalty.

It wasn’t long before the first effects were seen on Earth, or the Core Worlds. Historically, the Senate had been more careful, for the citizens of Earth and the Core Worlds could vote the Senators out of office. But now, the Senate was willing to flex its collective muscle on Earth, using its power to crack down on all kinds of discontent. Striking workers were arrested and jailed at their command—without trial—and the military was used to maintain order. Would-be politicians were arrested, charged with pro-rebel sentiments and exiled from Earth. Planetary Governments, historically autonomous, were overruled at will. Press freedoms, long held inviolate by the Senate, were slowly weakened until most media outlets became nothing more than mouthpieces for the Senate. Protest groups, always swift to form when the Senate overstepped itself, were harassed and broken.

And the tighter the Senate cracked down, the greater the cracks that appeared within the Federation…