Democracy's Might

Chapter Twenty-Four

“That’s impressive,” Daria said, quietly.

Colin couldn’t help nodding in agreement. Morrison was impressive. The naval base had been built up over centuries and had everything apart from a Class-III shipyard; industrial node, repair yards, orbital defences… and facilities on the ground for rest and recreation. It had been years since he had last visited the system — and that had been a very brief layover before his assignment to then-Commodore Percival — but it was clear from a glance that someone was working desperately to get the system’s defences up and running.

“Fifty-nine superdreadnaughts, nearly three hundred smaller ships,” Colin said. “Thirty-five orbital fortresses, an uncountable number of automated platforms and hundreds of additional gunboats. Morrison itself would be damn near impregnable if all of those defences are up and running.”

“They might not be,” Damiani pointed out. Colin had combined the two fleets into one large force for the attack on Morrison. “We have a good idea just how far the system had been allowed to decay. Even with the best will in the world, it would take years to repair all the damage.”

“But we dare not take that for granted,” Colin said. The scouts hadn’t been able to slip too close to the planet, but what they’d found had been thoroughly intimidating. “And yet we dare not leave Morrison in our rear.”

The mystery commander — it still irked him that they didn’t know who they were facing — seemed to be playing it carefully. He’d held most of his ships within the planet’s gravity shadow, which limited their ability to escape… but combined with the planet’s massive defences, it would be difficult to damage them in any case. Colin knew, without false modesty, that he could tear up the rest of the system without difficulty, yet it wouldn’t make a difference. The planet’s orbital facilities and the fleet had to be destroyed as soon as possible.

Or were the ships there because they couldn’t move?

Colin had been through all the reports, piece by piece. They all agreed that Morrison had been allowed to decay, something that had jibed with his own observations. After all, if Stacy Roosevelt’s squadron could skimp on maintenance, why not a squadron that was never called upon to do anything more challenging than float in orbit and look intimidating? But he knew better than to assume that was the case. The enemy seemed determined to lure him down to face the combined firepower of both ships and orbital fortresses. It might well succeed, too.

He gritted his teeth. They couldn’t leave Morrison in their rear. He knew it… and he knew that the enemy commander knew it too. He had no choice, but to engage the planet’s defences, even though they would be armed and waiting for him. It was odd, given how flexible space travel was, to have to engage a specific target… and yet, there was no choice.

“We’ll try to lure them out,” he said, finally. He suspected that the enemy commander wouldn’t want to take the bait, but he would be under immense pressure to prevent the destruction of the rest of the system’s facilities. “And if that fails, we’ll go in after them.”

“Chancy,” Damiani said. “They will have too much firepower at their command.”

Colin nodded. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll rotate the arsenal ships and launch several missile swarms in quick succession,” he said. “But we have to take out those ships, at the very least.”

He looked over at Daria. “Is the fleet train ready to support us?”

“Yes,” Daria said, simply. “The Geeks have also said that more weapons are on their way. But I don’t know if they will change the balance of power.”

Colin swallowed a curse. Every day he gave the enemy commander to strengthen his position would be paid for in blood. If the Geeks had come up with something completely new, would it be enough to prevent heavy losses? He shook his head, grimly. All of their battles since Camelot had been against grossly inferior forces. This time, they were going to face a battle fleet primed and ready for them. He had no doubt that the enemy commander would have prepared, as best as he could for the arsenal ships… and whatever other surprises he could imagine. And what surprises would he have up his sleeve?

“We jump in twelve hours,” Colin said. “Inform the alpha crews to make sure they get a good night’s sleep, then a meal. Beta crews can finish resupplying the ships, then get some sleep too. They’re going to need it.”

“Yes, sir,” Damiani said. “And our plan of attack?”

“We’ll go with Alpha-Five,” Colin said. It wasn’t the most subtle plan he’d devised, but there was little subtle in charging at a brick wall. If the enemy commander refused to take the bait, they would have to engage the defences directly. And that would be bloody. “You and your squadrons will provide flank cover. The superdreadnaughts and arsenal ships can duel with their opponents.”

“We’ve altered the arsenal ship missile programming,” Commander Tobias reported. “If they try to use nukes to take out swarms of missiles at once, it will be considerably harder.”

“Let us hope so,” Colin said. They’d also copied the idea themselves, but unless the enemy had come up with their own arsenal ships it wouldn’t be necessary. “Get some sleep, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He watched as they filed out of the room, then turned and looked back at the display. The target was waiting for them, almost daring the rebels to attack. Colin would have preferred to avoid it completely, but he knew there was no choice. The enemy were practically offering him the chance to destroy their fleet on a platter. And that meant… he gritted his teeth, bitterly. If they were making such an offer, they probably had a nasty surprise waiting for him.

Shaking his head, he reached for the switch and turned off the display. The Morrison Fleet had to be destroyed. There was no alternative.

But the thought didn’t make him feel any better.

“You know, this could be our last night alive,” Crewman Rogers said.

The spy had to admit he had a point. They were going to be flying straight into the teeth of the Empire’s heaviest defences, at least outside the Sol System. There would be casualties, massive casualties… and it was quite possible that one of the destroyed ships would be General Montgomery. It might very well be their last night alive.

“Honestly,” she said, putting as much flirtation into her voice as she could, “couldn’t you come up with a better chat-up line?”

“And I have really never seen an angel fly so low,” Rogers said, as sweetly as he could. “Or take me to bed, love. You’ve pulled.”

“Idiot,” the spy said. “Those lines are dreadful.”

She shook her head. It was quite normal for Rogers to try to forget what was coming, but she had other worries. There had been no response, as far as she could tell, to the message she’d sent, nor had the superdreadnaught’s security staff realised that she’d sent the message at all. Or they had realised and were merely biding their time. The spy couldn’t understand why they hadn’t nabbed her, if they had realised she was there… but maybe they were playing a complex game. Intelligence officers tended to like complex plots. She doubted the rebel ones would be any different, even if they were rebels.

Her conditioning nagged at her, reminding her of her duty. But what could she do? One single person couldn’t sabotage the superdreadnaught, certainly not without help. But her conditioning wouldn’t let her do nothing, even though cold logic told her that there was nothing she could do. All she could do was wait.

“But this is our last night,” Rogers whined. “You might die a virgin.”

The spy burst out laughing. She was no virgin. Imperial Intelligence had taught her how to seduce, how to convince men to lower their guard around her — and that had often meant pillow talk, when the men were half-asleep and unaware of their words. But Rogers had nothing useful he could tell her…

A thought rang through her head. Why not?

She stood and held out a hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go find a privacy tube.”

Rogers gaped at her, then grinned boyishly. He’d been nervous, she realised. Was he a virgin? It was rare for a crewman to be a virgin, if only because the senior crewmen often took the juniors to brothels when they docked at naval bases. But Rogers might easily have chosen not to go, if he’d been nervous. Brothels were rarely decent places for young and inexperienced men.

“Thank you,” he said, as they made their way to the nearest tube. Thankfully, it was unoccupied. “I… I’ll make you proud.”

The spy fought down the urge to jeer. Instead, she kissed him as soon as they were inside.

“Relax,” she said. Perhaps it was his first time, after all. “There’s no need to hurry.”

Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was unusual to hold a holographic conference, Penny knew, as the images popped into the conference room. The etiquette that underpinned the Empire frowned on sending a holographic representative, even if one happened to be on one’s deathbed. Penny had never presumed to understand etiquette, but Wachter’s decision to put it aside sent a strong message to his subordinates. She hoped they picked up the right one.

“Attention on deck,” she said. If there was one advantage to using holograms, it was that there was no need to use the massive conference chamber. Instead, they could comfortably fit into a smaller compartment. “The Admiral is on the deck.”

Admiral Wachter strode into the compartment and nodded to the holograms. “We can discard the rest of the formalities,” he said, shortly. “Be seated.”

The holograms, blurring together into an indistinct mass, settled down. Penny took her chair and watched as Admiral Wachter took control of the display, presenting the sensor records from Parallax. It wasn’t exactly a victory, despite Commodore Yamani’s boasts, but it was close enough to please her superiors. And besides, Imperial Intelligence wouldn’t be coming for her.

“You can access the full sensor records later,” Admiral Wachter said, as he sat down. Unlike most commanding officers, he had insisted on allowing his officers full access to the sensor records, even from the unsuccessful battles. “The important detail is that the rebels are approaching Morrison. We may see them here at any moment.”

A low rustle ran through the chamber as the assembled officers reacted to the news. That, Penny knew, was why the Admiral had insisted on the holographic meeting. If the rebels attacked, the officers wouldn’t have to flee back to their ships. But they might also see it as an insult, if they didn’t think about it. Too many of the Morrison Fleet’s officers had made a career out of following orders without bothering to actually consider them.

“We have worked hard and trained hard for the coming battle,” the Admiral continued. “We can take pride in our achievements. We can fight and we can win, which is more than we could have done five months ago. But we dare not let ourselves be overconfident. The rebels have experienced officers, excellent ships and even new weapons. They will give us a hard challenge.

“But we will meet that challenge. And we will beat them.

“They have to come here,” he reminded them. “We will be ready.”

Penny nodded. The only real alternative for the rebels was to head directly to Earth — some of their raiders might have already reached the planet — but that would leave Morrison in their rear. Admiral Wachter and his fleet might set off for Jackson’s Folly, scorching or occupying every rebel-held world along their way. The populations they’d liberated would see Imperial Navy starships in their skies again, each one crammed with Blackshirts ready to purge the worlds of rebels and rebel supporters. No, she told herself. If the rebels wanted anything more than a bloody slaughter, they had to take out Morrison. It was the only way to safeguard their rear.

“I have told you, time and time again, that the Empire is necessary,” Admiral Wachter said softly. “Do not think about your patrons or your clients. Do not think about the good of your own career. Think, instead, of the importance of beating the rebels here and now. If we win this fight, we secure both our own futures and the future of humanity; if we lose, the Empire may come apart and humanity will be cast adrift on a violent sea as all the old grudges come back to haunt us.

“Today, we fight for everyone. Today, we put the good of the Empire ahead of our selfish desires.”

He looked up, his gaze passing over the holograms. “Make the Empire proud,” he ordered, quietly. “And don’t forget what we’re fighting for.”

Penny felt an odd lump in her throat as the silence grew and grew. But what did the Empire mean to her? She’d had hopes, once, of reaching a high rank by her own efforts. But she’d prostituted herself — there was no better word — to Percival, only to discover that no matter what she did, she would never be able to rise on her own. And Percival had beaten her, abused her physically and mentally… and seemed ready to make her the scapegoat for his own failings.

And the Empire hadn’t treated her any better. They’d interrogated her thoroughly, almost breaking her mind, before setting her loose and expecting her to still be faithful to them.

And yet… she liked Admiral Wachter. He was admirable, very much a rarity among the senior officers she’d met. She wanted to please him, she wanted to impress him, even though there was no logical reason why the Empire should have her loyalty. It had used her, then tried to dispose of her when someone had to take the fall. And yet… her thoughts ran in circles, mocking her. What did it say about her when she would happily give her loyalty to Wachter, a degree of commitment she had never offered to anyone else, while she found herself oddly unconcerned about the fate of the Empire?

“We will follow Combat Plan Nine,” Wachter said, his words breaking into her thoughts. “I want Force One” — he looked over at Commodore Yamani, who had been placed in command of Force One as a reward for her victory — “to depart within the hour. Use all necessary measures to remain unnoticed. We have to assume that the rebels are watching the system.”

Penny nodded. The advancing wave of rebel starships had long since passed Morrison, assuming that the handful of brutal attacks on supply convoys had been rebel ships. Some of the attacks had been thoroughly nasty, suggesting that pirates had returned to the Core Worlds. The Imperial Navy, so heavily tied up in defending Earth, Morrison and the other Core Worlds, was too badly overstretched to provide escorts. And each attack convinced shipping companies to keep their ships in orbit, rather than plying the spacelanes.

“Force Two will remain here, but go to full tactical alert,” Wachter added. “I want double shifts on duty at all times. All leaves are cancelled; if you still have crewmen on Morrison, call them back at once. When the rebels attack, I plan to be ready for them.

“Fortresses are also to go on full alert. Gunboats are to sweep the outer edges of the gravity shadow at all times, watching for rebel spies. But see to it that crews with special training are held back. We’re going to need them soon enough.”

He smiled, coldly. “This is the first time since Camelot that the rebels have faced an equal or superior force,” he told them. “It’s time to make them remember why the Imperial Navy has never lost a war. Dismissed.”

Penny watched as the holograms blinked out, one by one, until they were alone in the compartment. Wachter looked tired, but there was an odd glint in his eye. It took her a moment to realise that he was actually looking forward to the coming battle. They’d planned as thoroughly as they could, exercised vigorously… yet they wouldn’t know how well they’d done until they were tested in fire. And besides, Wachter needed results. There were too many people who would blame him for any failure, no matter how minor.

He looked up at her, as if he was surprised to see her. “Yes, Captain?”

Penny hesitated, torn by a conflicting mixture of emotions. She wanted to ask him, openly, if the Empire was truly worth defending, yet she knew that it wasn’t the time. Wachter hadn’t bitten her head off for asking questions, no matter how sensitive, but he was truly loyal to the Empire. And then… if he had been Percival, he would have insisted on taking her to bed, knowing it would help prepare him for the following day. But he wasn’t Percival.

He could have asked — and she would have said yes. But he hadn’t asked. He’d respected her right to choose. And, if she did make that decision, it would be hers.

She didn’t know if the Empire truly deserved her loyalty. But Admiral Wachter certainly did.

“Make sure you sleep well, Admiral,” she said. If he wanted to invite her to his bed… angrily, she pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t Percival. “We don’t know when they’ll be here.”

“Soon,” Wachter said. He gave her a tired smile. “The waiting is worst of all, apart from the fighting.”

His smile widened. “Make sure you sleep well too, Captain. I’m going to need you when the shit finally hits the fan.”