Barbarians at the Gates

Chapter Forty-Nine

Earth (Sol) System, 4098

Admiral Featherstone knew himself to be a coward. Deep inside, he was ashamed of his weakness, the weakness that had prevented him from graduating from Luna Academy and serving as a proper officer should. His well-connected family and his willingness to sell himself to the highest bidder had ensured a rapid rise to the top of the hierarchy, but he’d always remained in the background. He’d never commanded a fleet in combat and would never have had the chance if Admiral Justinian hadn’t destroyed Navy HQ. It had been sheer luck that Featherstone hadn’t been in the building at the time, and his promotion upward—filling a dead man’s shoes—had seemed wonderful at first. Everyone knew that Home Fleet never saw combat…well, it had seen combat during the first attack on Earth, but what were the chances of that happening again?

He fought hard to keep his expression blank as he sweated inside. Admiral Drake was on his way, with enough ships and experienced crews to take on Home Fleet and win. Featherstone had ordered reinforcements to be summoned as quickly as possible, but his most optimistic estimate was that any reinforcements would arrive in the system after Admiral Drake. Matters weren’t helped by Senators sending him messages at all hours of the day and night, demanding that he use his new position to further their interests. Home Fleet’s current position near the Gateway defenses was a result of one such instruction. Apparently, a number of highly-placed Senators had interests in the Gateway that needed to be guarded.

“Admiral,” a voice said. He turned to look at Commander Farrell, who had been assigned to him as an aide and general assistant. Featherstone knew that the younger man held him in contempt, but—so far—he had refrained from destroying the man’s career. “The survey satellites just picked up a large footprint at the edge of the mass limit.”

Featherstone cursed under his breath, silently damning all Senators to hell. Home Fleet was normally positioned at Titan Base, or near Earth itself, but instead they were caught near the Gateway forts. Featherstone was no tactical genius, yet even he knew that only an insane commander would tangle with those forts if there was any other choice. And the Senate had refused to allow him to position his ships near Earth, where they could fall back on the orbital defenses and boost their firepower by a factor of ten.

“Show me,” he ordered, looking up at the holographic tank. “I suppose there’s no chance that this could be a diversion?”

“Not unless they have a second fleet as large as the Grand Fleet,” the younger man said. His voice was calm and professional, yet Featherstone was sure he heard amusement lurking behind his tone. “They’re not even trying to hide.”

Featherstone took a breath. It had been years since he’d studied a display, and most of his lessons had been forgotten. There was no real-time data on the enemy fleet, but it was clearly heading right toward Earth, unless their commander decided to change course for some reason of his own. Featherstone doubted it. Earth was the key to the Solar System.

“Bring up our drives and plot an intercept course,” Featherstone ordered. At least he could now claim a military emergency as an excuse to avoid reading messages from irate Senators. Even they couldn’t argue with the Grand Fleet bearing down on them. “I want us underway as soon as possible.”

Even as he spoke, he knew it was going to be a tight shave.

“Launch probes,” Marius ordered. He was the only calm person in the compartment. The remainder of the crew knew they’d crossed a line when they’d followed him back to Earth. “I want a location on Home Fleet, now!”

He’d assumed all along that their journey would be detected and that warnings would be flashed to Earth. If he’d been commanding the defenses, he would have positioned Home Fleet roughly three or four light minutes from the mass limit and gone doggo, stepping down his emissions as much as possible. He knew that anyone who wanted to reach Earth in the shortest possible space of time would have to arrive from a certain direction, and there was no reason why someone else couldn’t draw the same conclusion. Marius had planned on encountering Home Fleet at once and he was mildly surprised, as the probes sped further and further away from the fleet, to find that Home Fleet appeared to be missing.

Earth’s Solar System was the most heavily industrialized in the Federation. Over a period of nearly two thousand years, asteroids had been converted into factories to supply a growing population with whatever it might need. Others had been melted down and turned into starships at the Jupiter Shipyards, or developed into habitats that held huge populations. The gas giants were surrounded by cloudscoop platforms that sucked up gas and converted it into fuel for fusion reactors. And thousands of civilian spacecraft thronged through the Solar System, transporting goods from all over the Federation to Earth. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

There was a chime from the tactical console. “I have a lock on Home Fleet,” the tactical officer reported. “The fleet is positioned near the Gateway.”

“Interesting,” Marius commented. “But I imagine they will change position fairly rapidly once they see us.”

It was an odd choice of location. The Gateway was the one place in the Solar System that didn’t need Home Fleet to back up the defenses. Marius himself had supervised the enhancement of the defenses after the first attack on Earth, and any rational admiral would have quailed at the thought of punching through them. The cost would be staggering.

The Sol System was surrounded by a chain of watchful automated platforms, which—by now—would have picked up the Grand Fleet and flashed an urgent warning to Earth. Marius knew that the fleet could probably have slipped in undetected, but he’d deliberately chosen to arrive in style. It was important, McGillivray had assured him, to show that he wasn’t afraid to confront the Senate in their den. Marius had reluctantly accepted the Senator’s advice.

“Admiral, Home Fleet is on the move,” the tactical officer said. A new set of icons appeared on the display. “They’re advancing to meet us at Point Alpha.”

Marius nodded as the icon glittered on the display.

“Continue our present course,” he ordered. “We don’t want to be late for our appointment with Home Fleet.”

Admiral Featherstone rubbed his tired eyes and then looked around, hoping that no one had seen the brief moment of weakness. If any of the crew had seen, they kept it to themselves.

Home Fleet was blazing across the system at flank speed, hoping to intercept the Grand Fleet before it reached Earth, yet all he could think of was how slow it was, even on an interplanetary scale. At least the Senate’s demands that he immediately engage the enemy had trailed off, once someone on the planet got the facts of basic space combat through a few thick heads. This deep within the mass limit, no starship could pull more than 0.5C. They had to hope that the enemy would be obliging and not pile on extra speed before Home Fleet reached a position that could be used to block the intruders from Earth.

It made no sense. Admiral Drake could have piled on the speed and reached Earth well before Home Fleet could intercept him. Instead…he was deliberately keeping his speed low, daring Home Fleet to intercept his fleet. Featherstone couldn’t understand it, unless Admiral Drake was supremely confident.

And if Admiral Drake was that confident, Featherstone asked himself, what did Drake know that Featherstone didn’t know?

He rubbed his eyes again, fighting down a yawn. They’d crawled across the Solar System for hours, and he hadn’t dared to leave the bridge. At least they were coming into interception range within the next ten minutes. Once the battle started, he was sure he would feel better…

“Admiral,” Garibaldi said, “you asked to be notified when Home Fleet was ten minutes to engagement range.”

“So I did,” Marius agreed.

He studied the display, allowing himself a brief moment of amusement. Home Fleet hadn’t been drilled properly, and it showed, as their gunners hadn’t even tried to intercept the drones Marius had ordered launched. The Grand Fleet, on the other hand, had been drilling since before launching the operation that had beaten Admiral Justinian and his rebels. Marius had no doubt of the outcome if the two fleets collided, but it might just be avoidable.

“Communications, open a channel,” Drake said. He knew that the officer would understand what he was talking about, as they’d discussed the details during the long voyage to Earth several times already.

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said. “Channel open.”

Marius keyed his console.

“My name is Marius Drake, Commanding Officer of the Grand Fleet,” he said. His words would be heard all over the Solar System. “You probably have been told that I am a rebel, that I followed in the footsteps of Admiral Justinian, Governor Hartkopf and the many other warlords. You probably have also been told that I have come to take over Earth and the Federation for myself. None of those things are true.

“I swore an oath that I would defend the Federation against all enemies, foreign and domestic. I meant every word of that oath. I come now to remove one of the greatest threats to the Federation, the corrupt and decayed Senate. The Senate issued orders to slaughter—in cold blood—people it deemed to be a threat to their interests, so it could claim their land and property for itself. The Senate, in doing so, triggered an insurgency that will claim the lives of millions of soldiers as well as civilians in the coming months. The Senate even tried to have me killed by one of my own crew.

“We all know the truth. The Senate has become a monstrous entity tearing at the heart of the Federation. We all know that the Senate passes laws intended to allow interstellar corporations to ravish the colonies and exploit them for their own ends. We all know that the Senate’s interference in military affairs has led to stunning defeats. Is there anyone who can deny that the Senate has become the domestic enemy of the entire human race? Is there anyone who doubts that the Senate has been fuelling the tensions that force worlds to consider seceding from the Federation? Is there anyone who feels, as I do, that the Senate has gone too far?

“My fleet and I are here to remove the Senate. We will replace it with a fairer system that cannot be exploited so easily. My government will not last longer than ten years, perhaps less; but that will be long enough for us to push through real and lasting reforms. I swear that upon my name and the honor of the Federation Navy.

“I speak now to the men and women of Home Fleet, and Earth’s defenses,” he concluded. “If you want to join us, please do; we will welcome you. If you are uneasy with removing the government and choose to stand aside, we will not treat you as enemies. But if you choose to fight, consider carefully. You may be fighting on the wrong side. The choice is yours.”

He released the console and took a breath. If they were lucky…

Admiral Featherstone felt every one of Drake’s words slam into his tired mind. He couldn’t deny the truth of what he said, yet Featherstone had gone too far to simply change sides. His patrons had boosted his career and ensured that he reached the very highest levels, yet he’d always known that there would be a price.

He would have been happy to stand aside, but he had no choice. The Senate had to be defended. It was the legitimate government of human space and changing it by force, for whatever reason, was wrong. The population could vote out the Senate if they chose.

“Prepare to engage,” he ordered.

It all happened very quickly. The sensor officer drew a weapon from under his console and opened fire, gunning down the four Internal Security troopers on the bridge. Featherstone froze, feeling hot liquid trickling down his legs, as two other officers opened fire. A stray blast hit one of the consoles, which exploded in a shower of sparks, just before a plasma bolt slammed into his head.

He was dead before he hit the deck.

“Admiral…Home Fleet seems to have gone mad!”

Marius nodded slowly. Home Fleet had fallen right out of formation. A handful of starships were still continuing towards the Grand Fleet, but the remainder seemed to be drifting or had simply come to a stop. Several smaller ships had turned and were accelerating away as hard as they could, while one superdreadnaught had opened fire on its neighbour. Three other superdreadnaughts fired on the offender and blew the ship into flaming plasma.

His gamble had worked, he realized. He’d known that discontent had been spreading through the Federation Navy, but he hadn’t realized just how bad it was, or how many crewmen had been making preparations for mutiny. Part of his mind wondered, grimly, if future historians would claim that this was the moment when the Federation died; the remainder concentrated on the here and now. There would be time to consider the implications later.

“Admiral, a number of ships have surrendered,” the communications officer said. “Several more are gripped by heavy fighting and are urgently requesting help…”

“Send the Marines,” Marius ordered. There was no time to waste. “I want at least a platoon of Marines on each ship, with a scuttling charge. We will establish their bona fides before we trust too much.”

He looked up and, for a moment, his eyes met Garibaldi’s. The younger officer looked stunned, but then he’d never had the displeasure of serving in Home Fleet, where there was no action to trim out the worthless incompetents who infested the fleet. Home Fleet had never been expected to see serious action, at least until Admiral Justinian had reminded the Senate that they could be threatened.

“Helm, take the fleet to Earth,” he ordered. There was no point in dawdling any longer. “Best possible speed.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said.

Marius looked up at the display. Earth was surrounded by civilian starships, each one trying to flee before the warships arrived at Earth. Marius shrugged, ignoring them. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was capturing the Senate and ending the struggle before it could begin.

“Home Fleet is in a state of mutiny,” the dispatcher reported. He sounded hysterical. “Admiral Featherstone is dead!”

“What do we do?” Alison demanded. “What do we do?”

Carlton was having similar thoughts. If Home Fleet could be subverted, so could Earth’s defenses. Even if they remained loyal—and that couldn’t be guaranteed, even with the presence of Internal Security troopers on each platform—the Grand Fleet could break through the defenses and bombard Earth into submission. Hastily, he reviewed his emergency plans and realized that there wasn’t time to activate them before the Grand Fleet reached orbit. They had placed far too much faith in Admiral Featherstone…

“I need to think,” he snapped, with a glare that cut Alison off before she could continue to bleat like a scared lamb. “I think we need to surrender now, while we still have something to bargain with.”

Alison stared at him, her eyes going wide. “But he’ll kill us!”

“He’s a man of honor,” Carlton said sharply. “The point is, we have something to bargain with now, our control over Earth’s defenses. That allows us to ask for better terms than we might expect if he breaks through the defenses, or if they go over to him.”

“We could run,” Alison protested.

Carlton snorted.

“Where would we go? We can’t get to the spacecraft in time to get off-planet, while anywhere we would want to live on Earth would be easy for him to find. Do you want to flee into the slums and pretend that we were never Senators…?”

“No,” Alison hissed. “Very well; you talk to the bastard. Tell him that we will surrender on terms.”

Marius kept his expression blank as Grand Senator Brockington made his plea for terms. He’d anticipated that the Senate would fold, once they saw what happened to Home Fleet, and he’d had time to consider what he’d offer them. He’d come up with some very generous terms, but he doubted that the Senate would see it that way.

“Here are my terms,” he said. “You will order the defenses of Earth to stand down and prepare to be boarded. You will order the ground-side police force to remain at their posts until they are relieved. You will surrender yourselves to my Marines—every Senator on Earth, your families and anyone who wants to go with you—and prepare to be transported to exile. If you refuse these terms, there will be no further negotiation.”

There was a long pause as the message winged its way to Earth.

Eventually, a reply came flying back. As he’d expected, the Senate had accepted his terms. Marius figured they intended to return one day and resume their positions of power, but it wasn’t going to happen. They’d be sent to a comfortable world—Manchu or Paradise, perhaps—where they would live out the rest of their lives without contact with the Federation. That would put an end to them and their meddling.

He leaned back in his command chair. “Well,” he said to no one in particular. “We just took over the Federation. What do we do now?”

No one, not even Garibaldi, tried to frame a reply.