Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

Two hours later, Carlton started to wonder if he’d been wrong. Somehow—and there was no way to know how—the news had leaked to the media despite his order of a complete media blackout. The news was spreading fast; the Senate had ordered the murder of the admiral—a popular hero—and the admiral was on his way for revenge.

The rumors were spreading even faster, ranging from the believable to the absurd. The admiral was dead and his wife was leading the fleet for revenge. The admiral had somehow come back to life and was a zombie, out for revenge. Aliens had invaded the Federation after the admiral’s death and the Senate was fleeing…there was no rhyme or reason to the rumors, but they were spreading right over the planet.

The riots started soon afterward.

The Senate Hall was heavily defended, of course, but the same couldn’t be said for most of Earth’s infrastructure. It wasn’t easy to maintain at the best of times; with an endless series of riots tearing it apart, entire city blocks lost light and heat and power. The police—backed up by the Federation Army and Internal Security troopers—found themselves under siege in their own bases.

When the riots were only a few hours old, the death toll had already passed two million people. How long would it be, Carlton asked himself, before the mob marched on the mansions that housed the political elite?

If we can only beat the admiral , he thought, we could still win…

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.