Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

And besides, he told himself, with the Federation Star on his breast, who could deny him anything?

“And so I made the decision to hold back the remainder of Home Fleet,” Drake concluded. Once the President’s speech was over, and the Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition and the Leader of the Independent Movement had made their speeches, he’d been summoned to a smaller room, where he’d found himself facing the Naval Oversight Committee. The committee had briefly congratulated him on his victory, then demanded an immediate account of the entire battle from start to finish. “In my considered judgement, there was no point in attempting a chase.”

“And that is precisely the point we wish to discuss,” Senator Alison Wallisch said. Her nasal voice echoed unpleasantly in the smaller chamber. “It seems to us as if you chose to allow the treacherous bastard to escape.”

Marius held onto his anger with an effort. If Alison had worked a day in her life—at least outside the political field, where everyone around her told her what she wanted to hear all the time—he would have been astonished. It had grown increasingly clear from both meetings that she didn’t understand the realities of naval combat. Bringing the remains of the enemy force to battle would have been impossible, as long as the enemy commander chose to refuse to engage.

“The realities of interplanetary warfare made it impossible to intercept his fleet,” he said evenly. There was no point in losing his temper. “Had I ordered Home Fleet to give pursuit, only the smaller units—the starfighters and the cruisers—could have caught up with the enemy.”

“And you could have caught them,” Senator Hammond pointed out.

“I would not have wished to catch them with smaller units, sir,” Marius said. “The cruisers are designed for convoy escort duties or fast raids into enemy territory. They are not designed to face superdreadnaughts in open combat. Had I sent them against the superdreadnaughts, they would all have been destroyed, without delaying the enemy. The starfighters inflicted some damage, but the enemy force outran Home Fleet’s carriers.”

“This is not a productive line of questioning,” McGillivray said. The Grand Senator winked at Marius before continuing. “The fact of the matter is that Vice Admiral—sorry, Admiral —Drake fought a battle for which he was unprepared, and turned a looming disaster into victory—a victory, I might add, that saved all of our lives. Or do you expect that Admiral Justinian would have spared us, once he took the high orbitals and forced Home Fleet to surrender?”

“I quite agree,” Brockington said. The Leader of the Conservative Faction leaned forward. “Our current priority is defeating Justinian before his example leads others to rebel. A mighty force must be assembled to crush the viper in his den. Admiral, how do you advise we proceed?”

Marius frowned inwardly. Something was going on, something moving just beyond his awareness. The political waters were murky and there were sharks somewhere within the deeps. He pushed the lingering concern aside and concentrated on answering the question. Besides, under Case Omega, he was the senior surviving officer in the system.

“I have not yet had time to conduct more than a brief examination of the possibilities,” he said. That was an exaggeration, for there had been no time to conduct any planning. He was making it up as he went along. “Admiral Justinian may be safely assumed to have the remainder of Seventh Fleet and the system defense forces in his sector. He may have allies from the other fleets, or links with Outsiders and rebel factions. Therefore, I believe that we should activate the Naval Reserve and use it to reinforce Home Fleet, which will allow us to dispatch a force superior to Seventh Fleet and occupy his shipyards and industrial nodes. This may bring him to battle, if he is prepared to offer it.”

It was basic military strategy, a mixture of generalities and very few specifics. Even so, he knew it should impress them, while the remainder of the planning could be done at Luna HQ. He’d already given orders for the back-up facilities—shut down for funding concerns—to be reactivated and staffed as soon as possible.

He looked up and wanted to scowl, but kept his expression carefully blank. It was obvious that the Senators were exchanging messages through their implants again.

“We thank you for your suggestions,” Alison said slowly. “We will put them into effect as soon as possible. There is, however, another pressing concern. You usurped command under Case Omega.”

Marius stared at her. That was a problem? “Senator, I…”

“Admiral Cuthbert Parkinson was the superior officer in the Sol System,” Alison said with cold dispassion. Marius did a brief search through his implants. Admiral Parkinson’s military career had been undistinguished, with nothing to explain his rapid promotion—nothing in the files, at least. And if he had been senior officer after Navy HQ was destroyed, why hadn’t he identified himself? “You took his rightful command.”

“Admiral Parkinson failed to identify himself to the command network,” Marius said as calmly as he could. Reading between the lines, Parkinson’s file fairly screamed political appointee . “I was unaware that he was alive. Time was short, and I had to take command as no one else appeared to be interested in doing so.”

“And we forgive that transgression,” Alison said. She smiled sweetly. “However, as senior officer, Admiral Parkinson will command the Retribution Force. You will serve as his subordinate.”

“Yes, Senator,” Marius said tightly. It took everything he had to keep his voice level. He couldn’t resist a sardonic comment. “I understand and I will obey.”

Luna Academy, Sol System, 4092

Roman couldn’t help feeling nervous as he stepped into the Examination Hall. Ten days had passed since the attack on Earth and slowly—very slowly—information had started to spread through the Academy at the speed of rumor. The cadets knew, now, about Admiral Justinian and looked up his record, along with Admiral Drake and the others involved in the conflict. And he’d tried to talk with Professor Kratman, who had curiously been unavailable to him and every other cadet. All they’d really been told was that they would be told everything about the war after they completed their exams.

But few of the cadets really believed that would happen.

He sighed. If he could just take these exams and be done with them, maybe he’d somehow be able to talk with Professor Kratman before he got shipped out. And that might actually be much more valuable to him than taking these exams… he wondered, again, why they were even bothering with the exams?

Didn’t the Federation know there was a war on?

The Examination Hall was separated from the remainder of Luna Academy by nearly a mile of rock. It had been dug out as part of the early excavations that had eventually become Luna Academy—like most complexes on Luna, the Academy was mostly underground—and then sealed off by displaced rock. The only link between the Examination Hall and the remainder of the Academy was a single tunnel, heavily guarded and secured by the proctors. No one, they’d been warned, would be able to take anything into the Examination Hall, while the Hall itself was sealed by all manner of security devices known to man. Even if an enterprising cadet had found a way to sneak an illicit communications device into the hall, he would have found it useless. Rumor had it that anyone who did manage to cheat successfully would be rewarded by an instant promotion, but the penalties for trying and failing were harsh. Few attempted to beat the system.