“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.
The nine enemy battlecruisers didn’t seem to be heading for their current location; in fact, they were heading straight towards the Asimov Point. And the report from the passive sensor platforms was showing that their weapons and shields were fully charged. They were looking for trouble.
“I think we must have annoyed someone,” he said. “Alert the flag and prepare to move out of formation.”
The enemy battlecruisers didn’t slow until they reached the Asimov Point, at which point they came to a halt and waited. Roman wished—not for the first time—that the Federation Navy had developed the kind of sensors they saw in entertainment dramas, where it was possible to not only watch targets halfway across the system in real time, but determine what they were carrying and if they were hostile with ease. The enemy ships could be doing anything from sealing the Asimov Point to preparing to transit through with bad intentions; there was no way to tell at such a distance.
Admiral Mason’s face popped into existence on his private display. “Captain,” he said coldly. “I believe that your actions at Marx have sparked a response. I do not wish you to engage the enemy ships or even to scout after them.”
Roman frowned. “Sir, this is an opportunity to…”
“That is an order, captain,” Admiral Mason said. “In fact…”
“Captain, enemy starships are transiting the Asimov Point,” the sensor officer reported, suddenly. “They’re leaving the system.”
“It would appear that you succeeded,” Admiral Mason said. “We will keep our heads down and watch what happens from a distance. Might I remind you, captain, that you have already threatened the secrecy of this mission?”
“Yes, sir,” Roman said. It was frustrating, but Mason was in command. “I understand.”