Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

The seconds counted down. And then four drones reappeared on the display.

Four out of seventy, Roman noted. The defenders were clearly on the alert.

“Drone data downloading now,” the sensor officer said.

The main display lit up like a Christmas tree. There were five fortresses guarding the Asimov Point, backed up by a squadron of dreadnaughts and a handful of smaller ships. Roman suspected that it was already too late to preserve secrecy, but if they were lucky…

“The Commodore is launching assault drones now,” the tactical officer reported. “The jump countdown has begun.”

A pair of red numbers appeared in the main display. Roman took a breath, knowing that the defenders would be being hammered by the fury of uncontrolled antimatter. Driving into an Asimov Point was a far cry from the stately space battles he’d fought against pirates and enemy warships; indeed, there was a slight chance that Midway would interpenetrate with one of her sisters and both ships would vanish in colossal fireballs. Even in friendly territory, it still struck him as somehow unnatural .

“Ten seconds,” the helmsman said.

Roman waited, knowing that there was no point in issuing further orders.

“Five seconds…three…two…one…”

The universe lurched around Midway as she jumped into the Hawthorne System.

“Bring up the tactical sensors,” Roman snapped. Without sensors, his ship would be blind and helpless. “Locate the enemy ships!”

He’d hoped that one of the antimatter pods would have taken out a fortress, but he hadn’t been so lucky. The defenders would have been surprised when the first recon drones had appeared within the system, yet they hadn’t let their surprise slow down their response. They’d started launching missiles as soon as the first assault units appeared in their sights, trusting in the minefields to slow down the Federation Navy’s starships as they started to deploy.

“Bring up the point defense datanet,” Roman ordered. The admiral would be designating targets for the cruiser’s missiles. “Lock weapons at the admiral’s command…”

“Weapons locked, sir,” the tactical officer said. “We’re targeting the closest fortress…”

Midway shuddered as she unleashed a full barrage at the enemy fortifications, which returned fire savagely. They’d clearly been modified extensively since the start of the war. Moments later, four assault carriers materialized in the system and immediately launched their starfighters, throwing them out of the ships as fast as possible while the carriers added their missile batteries and point defense to the datanet.

Oddly, Roman realized, the enemy didn’t seem to have any starfighters. Perhaps they’d felt that the system was too remote to rate starfighters. They didn’t have unlimited resources, after all.

Midway rang like a bell as the first enemy missile slammed into her shields, followed rapidly by a second missile. Roman cursed as his ship was blown backwards by the force of the explosion, but the shields held long enough for their comrades to take out the following missiles.

A moment later, one of the enemy fortresses, battered beyond endurance, exploded in a colossal fireball, throwing waves of debris across the system. A second fortress went dark, but the remaining two continued to fight, while the enemy dreadnaughts advanced on the Asimov Point. With the minefields taken out, they could sit on the point and hammer anything that materialized in the area before it could orient itself and open fire.

They were too late. The first giant superdreadnaught materialized in front of them, followed by the remainder of its squadron. Orders were exchanged between the admiral and the commodore in command of the squadron and the massive ships belched missiles towards the two remaining fortresses. As a second and third squadron of superdreadnaughts made their appearance, the enemy diverted their fire from the remains of the assault squadron and concentrated on the giants.

“The third fortress has been destroyed,” the tactical officer reported. “The fourth is continuing to fight.”

Roman scowled. Midway was small fry in such a battle, now that five more superdreadnaught squadrons had arrived. The smart thing for the enemy to do would be to signal up the chain, and then try to surrender. Instead, they were fighting grimly, trying to inflict as much damage as they could before they were killed. It didn’t bode well for the future.

Magnificent emerged into a universe of fire and rage. Marius had bare seconds to access the datanet and download the tactical situation report before the first missile slammed into the superdreadnaught’s shields. It chilled him to the bone to realize just how close they had come to total disaster. A few microseconds later, and they would have interpenetrated with an armed antimatter missile.

“The enemy dreadnaughts are starting to break off from the Asimov Point,” Blake Raistlin reported. Marius heard the excitement in his voice and wished, for a moment, that he was young again. “I think they’re preparing to run for their lives, sir.”

“Probably,” Marius agreed. It wasn’t something he could allow to happen, either. Luckily, he had two aces up his sleeves. “Detach the fast superdreadnaughts and order them to run the bastards down before they reach the Asimov Point, and then assign two assault carriers to their support.”

“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said.

Marius sat back as another missile rocked the superdreadnaught. It was impossible to tell if the enemy had realized that Magnificent was the command vessel, or if it were simple bad luck. No, it had to be the latter; if he’d been able to identify the enemy flagship, he would have engaged her with every missile and beam at his command.

The one remaining enemy fortress was fighting hard, but her shields kept failing and missiles were slamming against her bare hull. She couldn’t last much longer…

The display blinked and cleared, with the icon of the fortress replaced by an expanding icon signifying a cloud of debris. The fortress had oddly refused all offers to accept surrender. Marius doubted that anyone on the fortress had been on the proscribed lists…and even if they had been, they’d only go into exile. He’d shown the universe how merciful the Federation could be at Bester.

He allowed himself to relax as the battle started to draw down to a close. The remaining enemy dreadnaughts were trying to escape now, but they wouldn’t be able to reach the other Asimov Point before they were run down and destroyed. If they kept trying to flee, his starfighters would hammer them into submission; if they tried to fight, his superdreadnaughts would destroy them. He hoped they’d have the sense to surrender before it was too late. There was no point in slaughtering people for nothing.

“Detach a destroyer squadron and a Marine Transport,” he ordered. “I want them to occupy the Hawthorne Orbitals and secure the planet. Inform the planetary government”—such as it was, assuming Admiral Justinian hadn’t replaced the pre-war government with his own men—”that we do not intend to harm them provided they behave themselves. Once the war is over, normal trade can resume.”

“Aye, sir,” Raistlin said. “Sir, the enemy dreadnaughts are surrendering.”

“Good,” Marius said with a nod. “Order the superdreadnaughts to launch Marine parties to secure the ships, then continue on to the Asimov Point. They are to demand the surrender of any further fortifications and secure the Asimov Point itself.”

He turned back to the display and studied it. There hadn’t been any pre-war fortifications on the other Asimov Point, but Admiral Justinian might have changed that during his time as the undisputed emperor of this sector. The Asimov Points toward the Rim were sometimes quite heavily fortified, but sometimes were rarely guarded at all. Hell, they might not even have been charted properly!