Democracy's Might

Chapter Eight

Commodore Jeremy Damiani sat on Shadow’s command bridge and watched as her crew scurried to battlestations. The battlecruiser had seen more than her fair share of action since the original mutiny — Colin himself had commanded her, before shifting his flag to the superdreadnaught — but half of her crew was new. Jeremy had been running endless drills ever since the squadron had departed Camelot, yet the only true test would come when they encountered the enemy for the first time.

He leaned back in his chair, trying to project an air of unconcern. The shortage of crewmen was particularly acute when it came to senior officers, most of whom had either thrown their lot in with the rebels or insisted on being transferred to a holding colony. Jeremy was not only the commander of the entire squadron, he was the battlecruiser’s commander too. His XO had been a Lieutenant before the mutiny and didn’t have the experience to handle the post, let alone overall command. But there was no alternative.

“All systems report ready, Captain,” the XO said. He looked absurdly young — and he was absurdly young — but his voice was steady. “Shadow is fully at your command.”

Jeremy nodded, never taking his eyes off the datanet. The entire squadron had gone to battlestations, linking their ships into a single entity. They were ready for anything, he hoped, although the preliminary survey of the system ahead of them had concluded that there was nothing more dangerous than a handful of destroyers and automated weapons platforms in orbit. Jeremy rather hoped that was true. An easy victory would do wonders for morale, particularly after the last bruising exercise. It had been carefully designed to give the enemy every possible advantage.

“Power up the flicker drive,” he ordered, pushing his thoughts aside. “Jump on my mark.”

A dull whine echoed through the battlecruiser as the flicker drive powered up. Jeremy tensed, remembering all the combat jumps they’d carried out since the mutiny had begun. He might not have been there for the start, but he’d joined as soon as he’d been offered an opportunity. After spending months serving Stacy Roosevelt, even the prospect of being shot for mutiny no longer seemed terrifying.

“Jump,” he ordered.

His stomach clenched as space twisted around the giant battlecruiser, jumping them two light years into the enemy-controlled system. He swallowed hard, refusing to show any signs of weakness on his command bridge, then looked up as the display rapidly lit up with new icons, each one a potential threat. Four Imperial Navy destroyers were hanging in orbit around Happy Daze, two more seemed to be leaving orbit in company with a pair of freighters. Behind them, the automated weapons platforms wouldn’t be a problem until the battlecruisers entered orbit. In any case, they were unlikely to impede Colin’s advance towards Earth.

“Transmit a demand for surrender,” he ordered, as the squadron powered towards the planet, weapons and sensors probing the darkness for threats. “And inform them that we will spare the lives of anyone who joins us.”

He watched as the IFFs popped up on the display. The destroyers weren’t Imperial Navy, he noted without surprise, but Household Troops belonging to a particular family. Rumour had it that Household Troops received the very best of everything, from salaries to women and other perks; they certainly rarely seemed disloyal to their masters. Chances were they’d fire a few shots for the honour of the flag, then flicker out. Loyal or not, six destroyers couldn’t stand up to nine battlecruisers.

“They just sent us a copy of their brochure,” the communications officer said. She sounded as though she were trying hard not to laugh. “We can swim in their cool waters, climb their high mountains…”

Jeremy shook his head, wondering just what the enemy CO was thinking. Had they even heard about the revolution? Happy Daze was quite isolated, he knew; the system rarely had any traffic that wasn’t connected to its status as a holiday resort for the wealthy and powerful among the aristocrats and their servants. But surely the Imperial Navy Sector CO would at least have tried to warn them. His patron wouldn’t have thanked him for leaving so many people to be caught by the rebels.

“Repeat our demand for surrender,” he ordered. It was unlikely in the extreme that the system didn’t know about the rebellion, which suggested that the system CO was trying to irritate him. “And then prepare to engage the enemy.”

Four icons vanished from the display. “Sir,” the tactical officer said, “the freighters and their escorts just jumped out. I couldn’t get a bearing on their course from this distance.”

Jeremy scowled. The tactical officer, thankfully, had some formal training, but his former CO had been a right bastard, snapping and snarling at his men for every little setback. No tactical officer could hope to draw a bearing from such a distance, let alone take his ship in hot pursuit, yet the officer still worried about punishment. Not for the first time, he wondered why it had taken so long for a general mutiny to get underway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. If there was one thing he had learned from working with Stacy Roosevelt, it was that shooting the messenger only ensured that one got less mail. The crew might not pass on something vitally important if they thought he would take it out on them. “Lock weapons on the other destroyers.”

He looked back at the display, wondering if the enemy CO was mad — or if he had laid a trap. The enemy destroyers had formed up into a hammerhead formation, combining their weapons and sensors into a single unit… which would be admirable if a single battlecruiser didn’t mount more missile tubes and energy weapons than an entire squadron of destroyers. A single barrage from his ships would be enough to wipe out the entire enemy squadron. He couldn’t decide if the enemy CO was trying to bluff him… or was merely planning to fight to the death, no matter how pointless it seemed. Maybe he expected nothing, but punishment for abandoning the planet.

And yet he can’t hope to save it, Jeremy thought, as the two squadrons converged. Any fool could see that, just by weighing his firepower against mine.

“Entering weapons range in two minutes,” the tactical officer said. There was a hint of excitement in his voice, overshadowing his earlier worries. Tactical officers were trained to be aggressive and, now that the Shadow Fleet had removed the non-professional requirements for promotion, it could come rapidly to a proven operator. “Missiles locked on target, ready to fire. Energy weapons locked on target, ready to fire.”

“Stand by,” Jeremy ordered. What was the enemy commander thinking? Had he laid a minefield? No, that would have required precognition. Even a spy on Shadow wouldn’t have known their exact angle of approach. Jeremy himself hadn’t known. “Fire the first barrage as soon as we enter weapons range, then hold fire.”

An alarm sounded as the enemy ships opened fire, the display suddenly lighting up with dozens of red icons. They’d crammed additional external racks onto their hulls, Jeremy saw, improving their throw weight at the cost of some manoeuvrability. They did know about the rebellion then, he told himself, as Shadow shivered and unleashed her own barrage. Even without expending her external racks, it was still more firepower than all four enemy destroyers could hope to unleash.

The enemy destroyers vanished from the display. Jeremy heard the tactical officer’s gasp of dismay; the enemy had simply flickered out rather than allow the missiles to strike home. It was about their only viable tactic, Jeremy knew. He ordered the tactical officer to deactivate their missiles — thankfully, the Imperial Navy had long since perfected the technique of recovering unexpended missiles — and then watched as the enemy missiles entered his point defence envelope. One by one, they were picked off and vaporised before they could strike the starship’s shields, let alone its hull.

Jeremy sat back, studying the tactical analysis. There were no noted improvements in the enemy missiles, no ECM or modified seeker heads that might give them a chance to score hits. He wasn’t too surprised — the Imperial Navy wasn’t known for innovation — but Anderson had warned him to keep an eye open for surprises. If the Roosevelt Family had been quietly preparing for the collapse of the Empire, why not other families? And why couldn’t they seek secret alliances with rogue scientists?

“Picking up all four enemy destroyers, right at the edge of sensor range,” the sensor officer said. “They’re keeping an eye on us, sir.”

“Unsurprising,” Jeremy commented. The enemy CO had clearly decided to witness whatever happened in the system, even if he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Not an idiot, then; it was almost a shame he had refused the invitation to join the rebellion. Who knew what piece of tactical information would serve as a clue to rebel capabilities? “Keep an eye on them in return.”

He looked over towards the helm. “Take us in towards the planet,” he ordered. “And fire on the automated platforms as soon as they come into range, then dispatch the recovery crews.”

Happy Daze belonged to one of the smaller families, according to the files. Unlike most colony worlds, it had been left almost completely uninhabited after the terraforming process had been completed. The only permanent population, at least as far as anyone knew, was a small army of servants, gamekeepers and pleasure slaves, who would remain on the planet until they had completed their service. Visitors to the planet could enjoy pampering on a colossal scale, from swimming in warm moonlit seas to hunting dangerous animals in the bush. The sheer scale of the resort world stunned Jeremy every time he considered it; they’d turned an entire planet into a holiday camp. They could have established a similar installation on an inhabited world and it would have been much cheaper. And they still would have had guaranteed security.

But they hadn’t installed massive defences, he noted, as the automated platforms came into range. They were enough to deter a pirate attack — and there wasn’t anything else in the system worth defending — but they couldn’t hope to stand off a single battlecruiser, let alone nine of them. And, unlike the destroyers, they had no way to flicker out and escape certain destruction. Jeremy watched dispassionately as the platforms fought briefly, then were picked off one by one. There wasn’t anything else in orbit, not even a transit station.

They probably just kept the shuttles on the ground, he thought, as the battlecruisers settled into orbit. It isn’t as though they need a large infrastructure.

“Hail them,” he ordered. “Transmit the pre-recorded message.”

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said.

Jeremy smiled to himself. If the people on the ground had any sense, they would have already evacuated the holiday resort. It was quite likely that anyone important had already been evacuated — they’d had at least five months warning, perhaps more — but he doubted they would have evacuated the servants. But in any case, the planet was completely naked. A handful of KEW strikes would obliterate the facilities, leaving the survivors completely isolated. In order to meet Colin’s demand that the rebels try to avoid atrocities, the message gave the inhabitants thirty minutes to evacuate.

There was little on the planet that was actually worth destroying — and nothing that was of any military value. Jeremy had questioned the value of hitting the planet at all, only to have Colin point out that the family that owned the planet would be furious with the Imperial Navy for failing to provide additional protection. Besides, it was possible that losing the planet’s facilities would cause more economic damage. The analysts weren’t sure if the family actually owned everything or if they were still paying off the loans. Untangling the financial network underpinning the Empire, they’d confessed, could take years. Jeremy rather suspected that the best option would be to destroy everything and start again from scratch.

But then countless millions will starve, he thought. There were hundreds of worlds dependent on food shipments because they’d never been allowed to set up farms for themselves. The whole system was rotten to the core. We have to be more careful.

“Picking up a message,” the communications officer said. “They’re offering to pay a colossal ransom if we leave the system without destroying anything — anything else.”

Jeremy shook his head. There was no point in trying to take money, not when the value of the Imperial Credit was sinking rapidly. Raw materials or industrial production might be worthwhile, but there was nothing in the system that was worth the effort of collecting it. It was possible that the destroyers might be surrendered to him, yet he rather doubted it. The family would be heavily penalised for aiding and abetting the rebels.

Idiots, he thought. It isn’t as if countless destroyer-sized starships didn’t go rogue.

“Tell them that they now have” — he glanced at the display — “fifteen minutes to evacuate the facilities.”

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said.

Jeremy waited, studying the enemy destroyers in the display. Would their CO throw caution to the winds and do something stupidly heroic, or would he just watch and plot revenge? Four destroyers couldn’t fight an entire squadron of battlecruisers, but they could cause real trouble behind the lines. The rebel supply lines weren’t as solid as they might wish in any case. If the CO was cunning enough to plan his attacks carefully, he might cripple the offensive as it progressed towards Morrison.

Or would he simply head towards Morrison himself?

The timer reached zero. “Launch KEWs,” he ordered, shortly. The tactical staff had plenty of time to refine their targeting systems. “Take out the facilities.”

He’d half-expected force field defences, but nothing materialised as the KEWs fell down and struck their targets. There was no need for warheads; one by one, the facilities that had taken so much time and effort to build were wiped out of existence. Jeremy said a silent prayer for the employees, servants and slaves — he hoped they had evacuated, even though he knew their superiors might have forced them to stay in the complex in the hopes of using them as human shields — and then looked over at the helm. There was no longer any point in remaining within the system.

“Take us to safe distance, then prepare to flicker out,” he ordered.

The squadron rose up, heading away from the planet. Jeremy watched the enemy destroyers as they altered course themselves, moving to shadow the battlecruisers. It made no sense to him, then he realised that the enemy CO was hoping to get a bearing from their jump out of the system. It wouldn’t do Imperial Intelligence any good — he wasn’t planning to jump all the way to a secret rebel base — but it did suggest that the enemy CO was crafty.

You’re on the wrong side, mate, he thought.

But he’d been on the wrong side too, until he’d been offered a chance to join the rebellion. Somehow, despite his resentment, he had never really considered mutiny; the Empire’s illusion of invincibility had been too strong. But now… now there were no limits. And word of the Empire’s defeats was spreading rapidly. They’d never be able to recover completely, even if they beat Colin and the Shadow Fleet.

He briefly considered trying to mousetrap the destroyers, before dismissing the thought. The enemy CO was cagey, cagey enough to make it unlikely that he could be trapped. He sensed a calculating mind in his opponent, cold and dispassionate enough not to be tricked into rash moves. There was no point in wasting time trying to kill a single enemy officer.

“Captain,” the helmsman said, “we are at minimum safe distance from the planet.”

“Set a random destination, then flicker out,” Jeremy ordered. Maybe — just maybe — the enemy crew was good enough to get a bearing on their departure. It wouldn’t do them any good if the coordinates led to empty space, three light years from the nearest star. “And then stand down from battlestations and jump us to the first scheduled waypoint.”

He relaxed as his stomach twisted again, then relaxed. The operation had gone entirely according to plan, a welcome surprise. They’d jumped in, blasted their targets and jumped out again without loss. By all standards, it had been a textbook operation. Colin would be pleased, once he heard the news. Jeremy’s fleet would reform in three weeks, after picking off a whole series of targets. If every operation was successful, the Empire would face colossal problems in rebuilding…

But he knew that few of their targets had any tactical significance at all. They might wound the Empire’s economy, they might prick it’s pride, but they wouldn’t impede the war effort or cripple the Empire’s military strength. Given time, the Empire could put together a fleet that utterly outgunned the Shadow Fleet… and now they were on the alert. Just because Stacy Roosevelt had been incompetent didn’t mean that they were all incompetent. The enemy CO at Happy Daze had been cunning and very capable. What could he do with a squadron of superdreadnaughts?

I don’t want to know, Jeremy decided. It was possible that the CO would be shot for his failure. He disliked the thought intensely, but if it removed a competent player from the enemy side maybe it was worth it. But we might find out the hard way.

He stood up. “Send the tactical reports to my office,” he ordered, as he walked towards the hatch. He would have to assess every ship’s performance, then suggest areas they should focus on in exercises. There was nothing quite like action to expose weak points. “XO, you have the bridge.”