Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“For the first part, we will be sending a large Fleet Train with you,” Arunika said. “For the second part, you will have to purchase supplies from Hobson’s Choice. They will be happy to sell anything to you; they never have problems supplying Outsiders, or rebels, or even aliens. Uzi and his team will handle that part of the operation.”

Roman frowned. Mason was right; he might be an asshole, but no one could call him incompetent. Relying on Hobson’s Choice as a source for supplies struck him as absurd, even though the files backed Arunika up. The planet’s natives would be happy to sell anything to everyone. There was no law or order, apart from a loose agreement not to fight in orbit around the planet.

He turned to look at Uzi and started in surprise as he saw the man’s eyes. Uzi was enhanced, almost a cyborg. Fully-enhanced humans were rare, even on the most advanced Federation worlds; the RockRats were the only culture to embrace enhancement on a regular basis. Apart from The Hive…

“There is no reason to fear,” Uzi said. He had a gravelly voice that reminded Roman of the first Instructor-NCO he’d encountered at Luna Academy. It was easy to see some of the enhancements flexing under his skin as he spoke. “We have operated in that region before. Obtaining the supplies you require will not be difficult.”

“I don’t have to remind you,” Admiral Drake said softly, “that preventing the two warlords from linking up is a priority. If all of the warlords, or even most of them, learn to work together, the Federation is doomed. Consider that while you’re preparing for this mission.”

FNS Magnificent , Boskone System, 4095

“He has grown up a bit, hasn’t he?”

Marius nodded as he poured glasses of wine. If there was one advantage to being—officially, at least—in the Senate’s favor, it was that he was regularly sent gifts by people hoping to ingratiate themselves with him. Marius simply took them, distributed some of them to people who needed the gifts more than him, and never acknowledged any of it, hoping that the senders would get tired of wasting their money. So far, it hadn’t worked. They’d sent very good wine, though.

“He has,” he agreed, as he passed Admiral Mason his glass. He took his seat and tried to relax, even though it was difficult knowing that there was a hostile enemy fleet on the other side of the Asimov Point. Both sides had sent through recon drones from time to time, but neither had followed them up with a full-scale offensive…and nothing less would settle the issue. The defenses on Admiral Justinian’s side of the Asimov Point were formidable. Even if Marius succeeded in breaking through with his fleet, he’d be bled white. “And I noticed that he was a little wary of you.”

“Young upstart,” Mason said without heat. “I guess that the whole incident at Terra Nova convinced most of us oldsters to give him a ship.”

Marius snorted. Mason was fifty years old and, going by some of the pre-war standards, young for his current rank. He wouldn’t have been given Task Force Kidd at all, were it not for the fact that he needed fleet command experience to be promoted higher. Marius expected him to do well, if only because getting in, hitting the target and getting out again were skills that fighter pilots excelled in. Mason hadn’t flown a fighter in years—his leg had had to be replaced after an accident that had nearly killed him—but he still had the guts and determination that had taken him into the cockpit.

“He’s brave,” Marius said after another swallow of wine. “He’ll do well, so don’t attempt to relieve him without a very good cause.”

“Your young protégé,” Mason said dryly. “Why did you assign him to this operation? Midway is a good ship, perfect for the mission, but she’s hardly essential.”

“Everyone needs to learn by doing,” Marius said. “They told us at the Academy that it was sink or swim time. Didn’t they tell you something like that on Mars?”

Mason shrugged.

“I’m surprised you gave me Golden Hind ,” he said. “Didn’t the Admiralty want you to keep her out of danger?”

“She’s ideal for the mission,” Marius said, scowling. “And I really cannot spare any of the fleet carriers I have to join you. The Admiralty keeps making noises about transferring some of my superdreadnaughts to face one of the other warlords and that would invite attack from Justinian if he realizes we’ve been weakened. I’d bet you anything you want to put forward that he has his spies in this system, watching us.”

He scowled again. The Core Worlds were the greatest nexus of industrial power in the known universe, but gearing up to produce a vastly-expanded military took time and money. He hadn’t heard much from the Senate, yet there were stories about production issues and work slowdowns that had been largely kept out of the media. Admiral Justinian had been preparing his own industrial base for ten years, and was still building it up. If the war lasted too long, God alone knew how many other warlords would be deploying their own industrial production nodes.

But then, the Bainbridge Protocols had ensured that every system had at least the basics in industrial production. That was something that had come back to bite the Federation on the behind. Hard.

“Losing her would be a public relations catastrophe,” Mason said darkly. “You know that operations are not predictable.”

“No,” Marius agreed. Golden Hind was a star carrier, identical to Enterprise …and, just like her sister, was neither a fleet carrier nor a superdreadnaught. Using her as a mobile base for a raiding party made far more sense than risking her in battle, even though losing her would not amuse the Senate, or the Admiralty either. “I expect you to do as you see fit. I wish I could come with you, but…”

“I know exactly how you feel.” Mason drained his wine and stood up, placing the empty glass on the small table. “I’ll uplink my operational plans once my staff and I have drawn them up, admiral. And I won’t relieve your young officer. Besides, most of the task force will be operating independently during the operation.”

“I know,” Marius said. Realistically, losing the entire task force—even Golden Hind —wouldn’t affect the balance of power that much. The media, however, would go mad and demand answers—and he would shift from public hero to villain very quickly. “Good luck, admiral. Depart as soon as you are ready to go.”

Marius settled back into the sofa as the hatch closed behind Mason. He didn’t want to admit it, but he envied the man. Mason was going to be doing something, rather than floating near an Asimov Point that might at any moment disgorge an attacking fleet with blood in its eye. Marius had learned at the Academy about a politician who’d fancied himself a general; he’d arranged, perhaps by coincidence, that powerful armored forces would be drawn up on the border, facing his enemies. Eventually, the enemies had—like civilians living on a dormant volcano—started to grow used to the threat and to discount it. And then, when his enemy was lured into dangerous complacency, the politician-general had struck—and won.