Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

Carefully, she considered the possibilities. The Federation possessed vast industrial strength, even in its diminished state. And then there was the Naval Reserve…given enough time, the Federation could out-build all of the warlords and crush them to powder, although no one knew if they had the determination to risk economic collapse by carrying on the war. Even if they won, they wouldn’t recoup what they’d lost, even if they declared all of the various territories of the warlords as war prizes, as they’d done after the Inheritance Wars. And yet, she knew just how deeply the Senate depended upon its ability to ravage the colonies at will. If they gave it up, the rump Federation would suffer an economic shockwave. The entire system might collapse into flaming debris.

And with that in mind, the Federation might well agree to make a deal with Governor Hartkopf. Allowing the treacherous bastard to keep his head on his shoulders—perhaps by sending him into a comfortable exile somewhere out along the Rim—would be a small price to pay for the easy recovery of his sector. And once they had their fleet there, they could move through Marx and into Justinian’s soft underbelly. The war might be within shouting distance of being won outright.

“Perhaps,” Admiral Justinian agreed, when she outlined her thoughts. He smiled humorlessly. “We did offer him more, didn’t we?”

“I think he decided that we were the losing side,” she said with a shrug. “A guarantee that he won’t be executed would look better than the promise of an entire sector—if the Federation took it off him regardless.”

“No doubt,” Admiral Justinian agreed. He looked up at the star chart floating over his desk. “We have to make it clear that the attack on Marx will not go unpunished…”

“But we don’t know if Hartkopf or the loyalists launched the attack,” she objected. “Who do we target?”

“Hartkopf allowed them to move through his territory,” Admiral Justinian said firmly. “You will take direct command of a squadron of battlecruisers and take them through The Hive into the Tranter System. You will destroy his defenses in that system and then withdraw, once you broadcast a message from me. The message will make it clear that I will not tolerate treachery, and that any further attacks on my forces will be seen as a declaration of war.”

“Yes, sir,” Caitlin said. She didn’t want to object and risk a sudden mood swing, but it had to be said. “If we do get into an all-out war with Hartkopf, sir, what is to stop the Federation taking advantage of it to stab us in the back?”

“If the Federation is already working with him, or controlling his sector, we’re at war anyway,” Justinian pointed out mildly. “If he’s prodding us to find out what kind of reaction he’ll get from us, we’ll give him a bloody nose to convince him to look elsewhere for his prey. Do you know what he demanded as part of Henrietta’s dowry? Four entire star systems!”

“Yes, sir,” Caitlin said. Privately, she was shocked. If someone could demand such a dowry, it suggested that that person’s grip on reality wasn’t particularly strong. “And what do we do about her?”

“You will recover her if possible,” Admiral Justinian said. “My note will include a demand for her immediate return. And if she can’t be returned—if they’ve killed her—he will pay for it. Personally.”

Two weeks later, Caitlin stood on the bridge of Avenger as she dropped out of stardrive on the edge of The Hive’s mass limit. The nine battlecruisers, four fast freighters and two of the converted starfighter-carriers that she’d brought with her held their position for a long moment, and then started to advance into the system towards the Asimov Point.

Caitlin had never visited The Hive System before, and she felt a shiver crawling down her back as the battlecruisers drove deeper into the system, although she knew that it was purely psychosomatic. Certainly, none of the more exotic stories about The Hive having converted itself to a creature of pure energy—or even hidden colonies within the system, undetected by the vengeful Federation Navy—had any basis in reality.

“The system appears to be clear, Commodore,” Captain Lachlan said. “If Hartkopf has any forces present within the system, they are lying doggo.”

Lachlan gave her the courtesy promotion out of habit, for there was only one captain on a vessel. Besides, although Caitlin wasn’t a real squadron commander, she spoke for the admiral himself and, as such, she had wide authority.

“Good,” Caitlin said. “Take us to the Asimov Point and prepare to launch recon drones. I want to know what we’re facing on the other side before we jump in and open fire.”

She’d had time to think, during the frantic struggle to prepare the battlecruiser squadron and launch the mission before the Federation launched a second attack, and she’d started to wonder what was really going on. The attack on Marx had been…odd. Why would Governor Hartkopf do something to declare his enmity in a way no one could ignore?

Further, if he’d actually concluded a deal with the Federation loyalists, why not string Admiral Justinian along while the Federation prepared a counterattack of its own? Even now, the undefended flank was being strengthened, with starships and fortresses being dispatched from Harmony to slow down any would-be invader. An offensive would rapidly become much harder. So who really benefited from attacking Marx?

They’d rejected the possibility of the Federation Navy launching the attack without Hartkopf’s permission because it would have been difficult for the Federation to get an assault force in place. But difficult wasn’t the same as impossible. Hartkopf’s regime was known for being even more corrupt than the Senate—an achievement that Caitlin would have previously considered impossible—and it was quite possible that some devious Federation Navy Admiral had merely applied a large infusion of cash. His ships could then have passed through the Asimov Points without being reported to superior authority, allowing them to launch the attack on Marx in the certain knowledge that Hartkopf would be blamed.

And yet, if they hadn’t had Hartkopf’s assistance, how had they obtained the codes?

She was still mulling the possibilities over in her mind when the small squadron reached the Asimov Point and launched recon drones into the gravimetric distortion directly ahead of them.

“Commodore, the recon drones have just returned,” Captain Lachlan informed her. “There are no hostile fortifications on the other side of the Asimov Point.”

Caitlin studied the results in disbelief. In the days before stardrive, there was little point in defending an Asimov Point everyone knew to be a dead end, but the continuous displacement drive had turned interstellar defense doctrine upside down. Governor Hartkopf had to know that it was easy for ships to cross the light years between Marx and The Hive—he collected money from smuggling ventures—so why had he left the system undefended?

Something was very wrong…she considered, just for a moment, aborting the mission until they received new orders from Admiral Justinian, but they’d been given no leeway at all. They had to launch the raid.

“Cloak us,” she ordered. If there were no defenders, no one would notice as her ships flickered into existence in Tranter. And then they could sneak up on their targets and blow them to hell. “Take us through the Asimov Point.”

“Now that’s interesting,” the sensor officer said slowly. “Captain, I think you should see this.”

Roman tapped his console and brought up the feed from the sensor department. The task force had found a suitable hiding place within The Hive system—a large asteroid that had been mined out and abandoned some time before the apocalypse had destroyed the entire system—and the engineers had been turning it into a base. Midway and her consorts had returned to find themselves briefly assigned to cloaked defense and scouting duties until the base was complete, not something that pleased him. Admiral Mason, it seemed, wanted to keep a close eye on Midway and her young commander.