Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

The display sounded a second alarm as the enemy CSP rotated and came after the cruiser, but Midway was already well on her way. The starfighters in pursuit posed a very real threat, yet before Roman really started to worry about them, they turned and fell back to their carriers. While he wasn’t sure why they had done that, Roman allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“Signal Admiral Drake,” he ordered. “Transmit the final data we collected, then request orders. We can watch them from this position, or we can rejoin the other ships, whatever he wishes…”

Roman settled back into his chair. It would be hours before they heard from the admiral and, until then, Roman’s duty was clear. They would continue to observe the enemy fleet from a safe distance and keep the admiral updated. The admiral would need all the data Roman’s people could produce.

“Deploy a shell of drones to surround us,” he added, addressing the sensor officer. “If they feel like trying to sneak up on us, I want to detect them before they get too close.”

Commissioner Williams looked dreadfully tired, the malicious part of Marius’s mind noted, even though he’d convinced the commissioner to get some sleep before the battle began. In fact, it looked as if the man hadn’t slept at all, something Marius remembered from his days as a very junior officer. He hadn’t been able to sleep on the eve of a major battle either. The Blue Star War had cured him of that, at least.

“Commissioner,” he said, by way of greeting. “We are approaching the outer edge of the engagement sphere.”

He waved a hand at the display. The enemy fleet—and his own—was surrounded by a transparent holographic sphere that marked out the moment when both fleets could open fire. One advantage of fighting a civil war—although it wasn’t something he was going to point out to the Senate—was that it was easy to categorize the other side’s forces…although they could obviously do the same. Unless Admiral Justinian’s research programs had borne fruit, there wouldn’t be any real surprises in store. The Federation’s own research programs, which had been given a sudden boost by the war, held out the promise of new hardware, but nothing new had really been developed.

He did have a couple of surprises up his sleeve, yet they were really just improvements on current technology. The Senate’s freeze on technological development had cost the human race dearly.

“Thank you,” Williams said. He sounded tired, as if he were struggling to hold back a yawn. “How long until we launch starfighters?”

“Ten minutes,” Marius informed him. “We don’t want to strain their life support packs too much.”

He settled back to watch the final approach. The enemy ships were turning slightly, presenting their broadsides to the Federation Navy. That wasn’t too surprising—indeed, he’d ordered his own ships to begin a comparable motion—and it suggested that Admiral Justinian was thinking along conventional lines. If Captain Garibaldi’s estimate of their strength was accurate, Admiral Justinian was outnumbered and outgunned. The question was simple: did he understand his weakness? A weakness could be turned into a strength if used properly.

“Record,” he ordered the communications officer. “Admiral Justinian, this is Admiral Drake. You are outnumbered and outgunned. In order to spare the lives of our crews who will die in the coming battle, I wish to offer you a chance to surrender. I am authorized to offer you and your senior staff a chance to go into exile, along with your families, if you surrender now. Your junior crews will receive a full pardon. You have five minutes to respond.”

He looked up at Williams, who nodded. “Transmit the message,” Marius ordered. “Wide-band transmission. I want them all to hear it.”

“Admiral, we’re picking up a message,” the communications officer said. “It’s a wide-band transmission, direct from the enemy fleet.”

“Trace the source,” Admiral Justinian ordered. “Let’s hear it.”

They listened to the message in silence.

“Do you want to surrender?” Caitlin asked, finally. “Your family could live…”

Justinian shook his head. His backers had warned him that the Senate would make many false promises to gain victory. He wasn’t blind to the use of the wide-band transmission either, or what it implied. One of his junior officers would get a free pardon if he stuck a knife between his ribs. And yet, he’d picked all of his subordinates for loyalty. They’d stick with him.

“No,” he said sharply. The enemy ships were just coming into engagement range. “Launch starfighters. All batteries lock weapons on target and prepare to commence firing.”

“I can’t trace the source,” the communications officer reported. “They relayed it from all of their ships, sir.”

Justinian nodded, unsurprised. The Book said to keep the flagship’s identity concealed as long as possible, after all, and it was one piece of wisdom that everyone followed. They’d learned from Admiral Parkinson…

“Starfighters away, sir,” Caitlin reported. “They’re falling into attack patterns now.”

“Good,” Justinian said. He’d win the battle yet. “Order them to press the offensive as hard as they can. No mercy.”

“There was no response, sir,” the communications officer reported.

“I think they’re going for the old boot in the head response,” Marius said and smiled. The display was sparkling with new icons as the enemy starfighters launched from their carriers, turning towards his fleet and preparing to attack. “Launching starfighters is a pretty good way of saying fuck off .”

He looked over at the communications officer. “Record a second message,” he ordered. “This is Admiral Drake, Commanding Officer of the Grand Fleet. Your admiral has rejected a demand for his surrender, even though we offered to guarantee his personal safety and that of his subordinates. I am extending the offer to his entire fleet. Cut your drives and weapons and stand down; we will accept your surrender and treat you as honourable foes under the Articles of War. I say again; surrender now and live…”

“No response,” the communications officer said after a moment.

“Are they insane?” Williams frowned.

“Perhaps they’re loyal, or perhaps they don’t believe us, or perhaps…they’re not in a position to surrender,” Marius countered. “He could have loyal troopers on the bridge of every one of those ships, enforcing his orders.”

“But they’ll die, too,” Williams protested.

“Of course they will,” Marius agreed tiredly. “It doesn’t really need that many idiots to turn a brief confrontation into a raging war. Just ask the admiral who lost the Battle of Spider Bite.”

He snorted at Williams’ expression. Evidently the man hadn’t believed that Admiral Justinian would stand and fight.

“Launch all starfighters,” Marius ordered Admiral Mason, “but hold the CSP in reserve, as planned. It’s time to test out what the new units can do.”

“Aye, sir,” the CAG said through the intercom. Admiral Mason had drilled the starfighter pilots extensively and it showed; they were responding at astonishing speed. “Permission to launch fighter strikes?”

“Granted,” Marius said. “Just make sure that you avoid our engagement envelope.”

He allowed himself a tight smile as the two clouds of starfighters raced away from their respective fleets. In a few moments, no less, he’d know if his gamble had paid off…or if he was about to command the greatest disaster since the Battle of Athens.

His lips twitched. After everything else, there was one important point to recall about that battle: Despite how bad the Battle of Athens had seemed at the time, the Federation Navy had actually won the day.