Chapter Nineteen

Admiral Katy Garland tensed as the superdreadnaught reverted to normal space, gripping the handles of her command chair as the standard nausea rolled through her body before finally subsiding. The transit back to normal space had been fairly mild, by the standards of some of the transits back during the war, but it still make her body threaten to be sick. There were some who claimed that the feeling was purely psychometric, all in the mind, but in Katy’s experience, few of them were dedicated spacers. Spacers knew that the feeling was very real… and, under the wrong circumstances, that it could kill. They knew not to take it lightly.

“Emergence complete,” the helmsman said, from his position. Spacers underwent special training to control the effects of transition shock, but it was still an effort to speak coherently. If anyone ever managed to invent a way of tracking starships in flicker-space and setting up an ambush, one of the holy grails of the Empire, it would change warfare overnight. “The fleet has arrived and units are checking in now.”

“Launch probes,” Katy ordered, as the display started to fill up with the icons representing her fleet. It was still too soon to see anything orbiting Cottbus, but there was nothing hostile in their emergence zone, although Admiral Wilhelm would know about them almost at once. She hadn’t bothered with any attempt at stealth, even though it would have been probably futile with so many starships; she wanted him to know that she was there. “Tactical, check in with the fleet; I want them forming up into Formation Alpha, just like we practiced.”

That had been the result of a barely-civil ‘discussion’ between her and René Goscinny. The Minister for Foreign Affairs, to use his title from Gaul, had argued that the fleet should emerge within the designated emergence zone and approach Cottbus in a decidedly non-hostile manner. Katy, who doubted that anyone could view the approach of twenty-seven superdreadnaughts — to say nothing of their escorts — as anything, but hostile, had vetoed that idea. They might not have come to start a fight, but she didn’t intend to show any signs of weakness, or even respect. If Admiral Wilhelm had been capable of luring eight cruisers within point blank range and then opening fire… well, she didn’t intend to give him a clear shot at her hulls.

She glanced down at one of her blank communications screens and smiled to herself. Goscinny had wanted to travel in a space yacht, on the grounds that it would be far less threatening and much more comfortable than a superdreadnaught, but she’d nixed that idea as well. A civilian ship couldn’t hope to stand up to the firepower orbiting Cottbus and she didn’t want to lose Goscinny, who could be good company when he put his mind to it, to treachery from the planet below. He was currently sitting in his stateroom — which had more luxury than she’d ever had as a mere Commander — waiting for his chance to shine.

“The fleet’s responded, Admiral,” the tactical officer said. “There are no major problems. They’re forming up into Formation Alpha now.”

Katy nodded without taking her eyes off the display. Manoeuvring any kind of large fleet was a cumbersome process, even with the most capable and experienced crews in the galaxy, and she had to admit that she didn’t have experienced crewers. They’d improved considerably during their brief period of exercises and heavy drilling, but she would have preferred more time. Of course, as the Imperial Navy saying went, time was a commodity that was purchased in lives. There simply hadn’t been the time to drill her crews to perfection.

Formation Alpha took shape in front of her and she smiled. The formation wasn’t exactly threatening, but it was capable of repelling attack from any direction — although the probes had found no trace of cloaked ships anywhere in the vicinity — and easily being altered into a very hostile formation indeed. She was sending a message, she knew, and she was confident that Admiral Wilhelm would pick up on it. He could stand down and discuss the future, or he could fight… and she was ready for both. Her fleet would not be caught with its shields down or drives depowered, unable to fight or run.

“Formation accomplished,” the tactical officer said.

“Good,” Katy ordered. “Helm, take us towards the planet, quarter speed. Nice and slow. We want them to know we’re coming.”

She spared a glance at her communications panel, only to see nothing. Admiral Wilhelm probably wasn’t interested in talking, at least not yet. It was possible that his subordinates were running around like headless chickens, rather than daring to wake him up from a good night’s sleep, but she cautioned herself not to fall into the trap of assuming that he was out of play. She’d once had a commanding officer who believed firmly in sleeping as often as possible and had taken grave offence at anyone who woke him, but surely Admiral Wilhelm wouldn’t be like that, would he?

The display continued to fill up as passive sensors pulled in data from across the system. Even accounting for the speed of light delays — and the limited sensors mounted on the probes — it was an impressive display, almost the equal of Earth’s solar system or one of the systems the Geeks had been establishing before the Fall of Earth. Hundreds of sublight ore freighters buzzed around, convoying newly-mined material from the asteroid belt to the shipyards surrounding the planet, while civilian ships ran from her fleet. Very few commercial skippers would stick around anywhere where the missiles might start flying — after all, they might be mistaken for decoys, Q-Ships or even arsenal ships — and as she watched, most of them flickered out on random vectors. It looked as if most of them were heading for the nearest star systems, but that was hardly a surprise. If nothing else, passing on the warning to Wilhelm’s friends and allies might earn them enough to save them from bankruptcy

She pulled up the data on Cottbus itself and scrolled through it rapidly. Admiral Wilhelm had been busy. Unless she was much mistaken — and she forwarded the probe data to the team of analysts she’d brought along for this purpose — the shipyard had been expanded, while the defences had actually been improved. It was hard to be sure at such a distance, but it looked as if they were deploying free-floating missile racks and heavy-duty energy weapons platforms, adding to the sheer firepower that they could deploy. Two squadrons of superdreadnaughts, floating protectively near the shipyard, completed the defences… or did they?

“Hubert, run an analysis on those freighters in Section Fifty-Seven,” she ordered, coolly. They stood out — no one in their right mind would keep freighters somewhere within range of missiles, unless they weren’t freighters — and she had a sneaking suspicion that they were actually arsenal ships. “While you’re at it, run a readiness check on their defences and report to me.”

She defocused the display and watched as the system continued to unfold, leaving a mystery. A Sector Fleet commonly had three superdreadnaught squadrons to provide the final resort for any Admiral. Admiral Wilhelm hadn’t forwarded the ships to Morrison, so where was the final superdreadnaught squadron? They could be lurking somewhere in interplanetary space, their drives and shields stepped down to make detection difficult, or they could be elsewhere. The latter made little sense — he knew there would be some kind of reaction from the Provisional Government, unless he had an unreasonable amount of faith in Carola — but the former wasn’t that smart either. It was almost as if he were tempting her to attack.

“Those freighters may be arsenal ships or Q-Ships, although I suspect the former,” the tactical officer said, slowly. “I don’t think that they would put Q-Ships in the line of battle for any reason, unless they were desperate, and in any case they don’t have any of the little tips you learn to watch for.”

And most pirates never get that chance, Katy thought, coldly. “And their readiness?”

“It’s hard to be sure at this distance,” the tactical officer said, “but I’d put them at ninety percent, at least. Their superdreadnaughts alone are at roughly ninety-five percent, while their smaller ships range from one hundred percent to ninety-two percent.”

Katy scowled. The Imperial Navy used a percentage system to rate the readiness of any given unit and most starships, particularly before the rebellion, had rated out as around seventy percent. The Morrison Sector Fleet had been lucky to rate forty percent… and that was only through carefully ignoring certain parts of the evidence. The Shadow Fleet had tried to reach ninety-nine percent for all of its units, but clearly Admiral Wilhelm had had similar ideas. Free of the restraints of the Thousand Families, like Colin and Katy herself, he had had the chance to put his ideas into practice.

We’re not going to get a helpful mutiny here, she thought, grimly. The rate of successful mutinies had fallen after the Empire had instituted a harsh new regime; everywhere, but Morrison. There, Joshua had treated his crews decently and humanly… and had been rewarded with loyalty. It looked as if Admiral Wilhelm had been reading Joshua’s notes on the subject and added a few refinements of his own.

She keyed her console. “Minister Goscinny, please report to the Flag Deck,” she ordered. They couldn’t delay much longer. Soon, they would be committed to engagement range of the planet and its defenders. “It’s time to contact Admiral Wilhelm directly.”

Goscinny reached the Flag Bridge surprisingly quickly for a person who hadn’t been used to superdreadnaughts, but then, she had advised him to learn his way around the massive ship. The Geeks had wanted to design starships that were far simpler — one of them had used the word elegant — but experienced officers had talked them out of it. It suited the crews that the vital sections of the ship — the bridge, engineering and life support — were harder to reach than it seemed. Goscinny had been reluctant to spend time on the bridge or the Flag Deck, claiming to be worried about the effects of pushing the wrong button, but Katy had insisted that he join her for the first contact. If nothing else, she wanted to hear what he said to Admiral Wilhelm.

“Plot out a standard firing pattern for multi-missiles,” she ordered curtly. If it came down to blows, she wanted to inflict as much damage as she could in the opening rounds. Cottbus was more than adequately defended by the old rules, but Admiral Wilhelm could hardly be prepared for all the weapons in her arsenal. “Lock them in on first and second-rank targets.”

“Aye, Admiral,” the tactical officer said. His hands flew across the console. “Targeting pattern building now.”

Katy turned and smiled up at Goscinny. The Gaul looked more worried than she had expected, pale and sweating rather than arrogant and confident. She was tempted to insist on making the first transmission herself, rather than sending another impression of weakness, but they’d already agreed that Goscinny would make the transmission and offer Admiral Wilhelm an out, provided he was smart enough to accept it. Katy gritted her teeth as Goscinny took his position. She understood the logic of amnesty, even to spiders and worms, but it didn’t sit well with her. She would have preferred to systematically separate Wilhelm’s arms and legs from his body, and then throw what was left into space.

“Open channel,” she ordered. “Minister, you’re on.”

“This is Minister René Goscinny, representing the Provisional Government of the Empire,” Goscinny said. Katy allowed herself a moment of surprise. Goscinny hadn’t sounded weak at all. She’d forgotten that he’d grown up on a democratic world and his position had relied upon convincing others to vote for him. It was something very few people in the Empire had experience doing. “I speak directly to Admiral Wilhelm.

“Two months ago, starships from the Imperial Navy entered this system to convoy the news of the change of governments and bring Cottbus into the new system,” he continued, his voice as hard and cold as stone. “Those starships were treacherously attacked and destroyed by your forces. One survived to bring back the news of your actions to Earth. This force is here to hold you to account for your actions.”

He paused before carrying on. “Your representative” — they’d agreed that Carola would be denied the title of Ambassador — “has argued that Cottbus is an independent state, having freed itself from the yoke of the Empire, under your control. If that were indeed the case, an admission that the Provisional Government is not prepared to make, your actions would constitute an act of war. We would be justified in investing, invading and occupying Cottbus and any other worlds that followed your banner. We do not accept that version of events.

“These are our demands. You will immediately stand down all starships, orbital weapons and other defences. You will permit them to be occupied by armed Marines who will place them under supervision until the true status of Cottbus can be decided. You will inform us of the true situation within this sector and assist us in establishing civil order, before welcoming the sector into the new Empire. Finally, you will assist us in a full and independent inquest into exactly what happened when our cruisers were destroyed.”

He paused. “If you comply with our demands, we are prepared to offer you and anyone else within your crews amnesty under the terms of the Macore Agreement,” he said. Katy, who was about the only person on the ship who would appreciate the irony, smiled darkly. Macore had not been happy about the amnesty agreement. “You would no longer be permitted to serve in the Imperial Navy, or as part of the political structure and government, but you would be permitted to remain free and independent. Your wealth, however acquired, will not be confiscated. Your families will not suffer for your actions. You could live a free and happy life.”

His eyes met Katy’s eyes. “If you refuse to accept our demands, or choose to ignore this message, we will open fire,” he concluded. “If you choose to fight, the deal will be withdrawn and you will be treated as a war criminal. We await your reply.”

Katy nodded. The communications officer transmitted the signal. “That was harder than I thought,” Goscinny admitted, quietly. “I don’t like pushing people into corners.”

“Nor do I,” Katy said, looking at the display. The red lines that indicated engagement range were growing closer to the fleet. “I also don’t like the look of those defences. If we can talk him into standing down, rather than fighting… well, it’s worth swallowing a little pride.”

Goscinny blinked. “You don’t think he’s going to stand down, do you?”

Katy shook her head.

The minutes ticked away as the fleet drew closer to the planet. As close as they were, the signals shouldn’t have been delayed more than a minute at most. She ran the calculation in her head and decided that ten minutes would be more than long enough for Admiral Wilhelm to decide on a response and transmit it, but she mentally decided that fifteen minutes would be enough leeway. She doubted that he would be feeling very happy after hearing the signal, but she found it hard to care. He had killed several hundred of her fellow crewmen, after all.

Goscinny leaned over to her. “Should it be taking this long?”

“No,” Katy muttered back. The closer they got to Cottbus, the louder the nagging feeling at the back of her neck kept shouting at her. The odds were that it was a trap, but she had no intention of flying into point blank range of a fortress. The system defences could be battered to death before they could hope to fire a missile back at her ships. “Communications, repeat the message.”

“Aye, Admiral,” the communications officer said. He worked his console quickly. “Message sent.”

The tactical officer broke into her thoughts. “Admiral, the probes are picking up a standard warning message from the planet’s defence grid,” he said. Katy could hear the puzzlement in his voice. When she pulled the data from the computers herself, she shared it. A standard warning message made little sense. She couldn’t even recall seeing one, outside exercises. “They’re just transmitting it randomly towards us.”

“A warning message?” Goscinny asked. “What are they warning us about?”

“Unknown,” Katy said. She felt herself tensing again. “Communications, open a channel.”

She waited for the communications officer’s signal. “This is Admiral Garland of the Imperial Navy,” she said. It felt so good to be blunt and direct. “You have chosen to ignore our previous signals. I therefore have no choice, but to assume that you have hostile intentions. Stand down your shields, weapons and drives now, or I will open fire. There will be no further warnings.”

“Targeting scans,” the tactical officer snapped. “We just got pinged by the orbital defences. They swept the fleet and then faded.”

Katy nodded. She’d expected as much. Hell, she’d operated under the assumption that the defenders knew where each of her starships was at any time. Their drive fields alone would see to that. They couldn’t be concealed without a full-spectrum cloaking device.

“Bring up our own active sensors and sweep the system,” she ordered. She keyed a single command into her console and leaned forward. “Prepare to open fire…”

“Missile tracks,” the tactical officer snapped. The display sparkled with hostile red icons. “We’re taking fire!”

At least that settles the question of hostile intent, Katy thought. “All ships, bring up the point defence network,” she ordered. There was something about the entire situation that didn’t quite make sense, but there was no longer time to think, only to react. “Fire at will.”

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