Democracy's Might

Chapter Twenty-Five

“All ships report ready, sir.”

Colin took a breath. He’d slept about as well as he’d expected, which wasn’t that well. In the end, he’d resorted to a pill for induced sleep, which had left him feeling sick for several minutes after he’d woken up. But there had been no choice, he told himself, as he washed and ate his breakfast. He couldn’t go into battle tired after a sleepless night.

“Set coordinates,” he said. “Jump in thirty seconds.”

His stomach clenched in anticipation as the timer ticked down to zero. Space twisted around the superdreadnaught, flickering them into the Morrison System. Colin winced at the all-too-familiar sensation in his gut, then forced himself to concentrate on the display. It was already filling up with icons. There were enough surrounding Morrison itself to make up a small galaxy.

“Jump completed, sir,” the XO reported. “Combat datanet established, datalinks up and running.”

“Launch drones,” Colin ordered. There was no point in trying to hide. Even a blind man wouldn’t have missed over two hundred starships flickering into the system. “Deploy the first squadrons as planned.”

He watched as the seconds ticked by. The enemy fortresses were already coming to full alert, while the superdreadnaughts brought up their drives and defensive shields. Their training showed, Colin realised grimly. They’d definitely exercised heavily over the past few months, enough to get their operations down to a fine art. Maybe they didn’t have many first-rate commanding officers, he saw, but they had at least one good Admiral.

“Transmit our message,” he said. One wave of drones was already plunging towards the planet, a second was spreading out around the Shadow Fleet. The first set of drones would be eliminated as soon as they came within enemy weapons range, but they would have time to provide more accurate information on the enemy positions before they died. “And inform me if there is any response.”

Piece by piece, the display updated itself. As Colin had expected, the enemy fleet remained near the planet, trapped within the gravity shadow. They wouldn’t be able to retreat for much longer, he knew; it wouldn’t be long before his fleet would be able to intercept them if they tried to run. But it would be a foolish move…

They’d be much safer near the planetary defences, he reminded himself. And our enemy, whoever he is, is hardly a fool.

The seconds ticked by as the fleet continued its deployment. Newer installations appeared on the display as the sensors picked them out, only to be dismissed; Colin had no intention of raiding the rest of the system unless there was no other alternative. Ideally, he wanted Morrison intact. But he had a feeling the enemy commander wasn’t going to let him take it so easily. The enemy ships were defiantly holding their ground.

“Continue towards primary target,” he ordered, finally. Maybe the enemy would come out to fight…

…Or maybe they would have to charge straight into a meatgrinder after all.

Penny had been dozing in her bunk when the alarms sounded. She promptly rolled out of bed, grabbed her uniform and pulled it on, then ran for the hatch. Somewhat to her annoyance, Admiral Wachter had beaten her to the flag deck and taken his place in the heart of the giant Combat Information Centre. The massive display showed hundreds of red icons advancing towards the planet with deadly intent. There were so many of them, combined with the rebel ECM, that the sensors weren’t even sure just how many enemy starships there were.

“Launch drones,” Admiral Wachter ordered, calmly. “Hang the beancounters for once.”

He looked over as Penny came to a halt beside him. “You’ll notice, I hope, that the rebels want me to do something?”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said. “They want you to come out and fight.”

“And if I was a young idiot, I’d do just that,” Wachter said. He grinned at her, pressing his fingertips together. “They seem to have jumped in too far from the planet, but they’re trying to tempt me. If I take the fleet away, they would have a chance to catch us in the gravity shadow, but outside the effective range of the orbital fortifications. We’d certainly get hurt badly before we made it out.”

His smile grew wider. “But we need to make them think we’re idiots,” he added. “Let us prepare for a desperate and futile flight.”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.

The communications officer turned to face the Admiral. “Sir, we’re picking up an all-ships transmission from the rebel fleet,” she said. “They’re beaming it right across the system.”

Wachter nodded, unsurprised. “Let’s hear it.”

Penny lifted her eyebrows as the rebel commander began to speak. “This is Admiral Colin Walker of the Shadow Fleet, representing the Popular Front. I call on you to surrender your ships and fortifications. If you surrender, we will return you to the Empire or intern you, if you do not wish to join us. But you will not have to die for an Empire that is slowly sucking the life out of humanity.

“Think about it! The Empire has destroyed uncounted millions of lives at the behest of the Thousand Families. Your lives, too, have been blighted by their greed. How many of you have been denied promotion because you didn’t have the right connections or family ties? How many of you have had to watch helplessly as injustice reigns supreme? Join us — help us put an end to it all.”

“Interesting argument,” Wachter muttered, making a slicing motion across his throat. The signal cut out. “And one that would have fallen on listening ears, a few months ago.”

Penny nodded. Wachter had taken more than a few precautions against another round of mutinies. Armed Marines were stationed on the larger ships, crews had been reshuffled randomly to break up any conspiracy networks and everyone had been kept thoroughly busy, as well as treated decently for the first time in years. But it was quite possible, she knew, that the rebels would convince others to join them. There might even be a mutiny on General Clive.

“Keep preparing for combat,” Wachter added. “And deploy the second flight of drones.”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.

The seconds ticked away. There was no mutiny, nor even any unrest as far as anyone could tell. Penny looked over at the Admiral and felt an odd thrill of admiration. There simply weren’t any other officers who could have upended everything, who could have made the decent officers and men feel they had a future, and had the nerve to face down Imperial Intelligence. If it had been Percival, she knew, there would have been a competition to see who could mutiny first.

She studied the rebel fleet as the drones revealed more of its nature, before they were picked off one by one. Forty-seven superdreadnaughts, all clearly in tip-top condition; twenty-two bulk freighters that the tactical computers classed as probably arsenal ships. Penny suspected they were right. No one in their right mind would bring a bulk freighter into a war zone. The ships were too slow to escape and utterly unarmed. Behind them, there were over a hundred and fifty smaller ships, ranging from battlecruisers to destroyers. The only oddity was the absence of gunboats.

“Their point defence network is definitely better than standard,” Wachter commented. He nodded towards the display, where the remaining drones were trying to pick up as much as they could before they died. But even losing a drone told them something about the enemy network. “Maybe as good as twenty to thirty percent more efficient.”

Penny ran it through in her head. Maybe not good enough to make a real difference, but the sides seemed to be evenly matched. Having a better point defence would definitely give the enemy some advantages. She studied their formation, then smiled when she realised that the enemy had pushed out their smaller ships to intercept missiles from Morrison. But they were still out of range…

“They’re taking advantage of the delay to get ready,” Wachter said. “Apart from the arsenal ships, I see no other non-standard ships in the formation. Do you concur?”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said. She hesitated, then voiced her opinion. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t have other surprises…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Wachter agreed. “But we can’t let fear hold us back, either.”

Penny looked up at the display, at the looming rebel fleet advancing towards them, and shuddered.

Colin watched, grimly, as the enemy fleet remained where it was, under the covering fire of the orbital fortresses. There were probably civilians on the planet right now, screaming curses at the military officers for not trying to defend the rest of the system, but it was precisely the right move. The enemy commander seemed to have more freedom than any normal officer would have been allowed.

It made no sense! Colin had been Percival’s aide long enough to know that Admirals were never given complete freedom of action, no matter who they were. If they were clients, they were suspected of wanting to place their patron on the throne; if they were aristocrats, they were assumed to be building up their own power bases. No Admiral with such a large fleet under his command would be allowed to operate completely independently. There was normally a triad of senior officers, while Imperial Intelligence would monitor their every move and make careful note of everything they did. Even eating the wrong food could damage a career.

But this commander seemed to have complete freedom of operation…

“No response, sir,” the communications officer said.

“No hint of a mutiny either,” the tactical officer added. “They seem loyal — or they have guns pointed at their heads.”

“Understood,” Colin said.

He allowed himself a moment of frustration, then pushed his irritation aside. The new commander had had around six months to prepare Morrison for attack. He had probably vetted his commanding officers, assigned Marines to various starships and taken whatever other precautions suggested themselves. The last set of mutinies had succeeded through luck and good judgement. It was relatively easy to secure a starship if one had enough time to make preparations.

All right, smartass, he told himself, recalling what Percival had once called him. Time to see if you really are the tactical genius you’re supposed to be.

“Fall into Attack Pattern Charlie-Omega,” he ordered, reluctantly. There was no hope of a quick and bloodless victory. They’d just have to hope that the enemy commander didn’t have any other surprises up his sleeve. “As soon as the formation is assumed, take us towards the planet.”

“Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.

“They’re not raiding the system?”

“I don’t think they have anything to gain,” Wachter commented, as the enemy fleet picked up speed, heading towards the planet. “If they win, they get the rest of the system without further ado; if they lose, the system doesn’t matter anyway.”

Penny nodded. If she’d been in command of the rebel fleet, she would have wreaked havoc in the system anyway, purely out of spite. Morrison might have belonged to the Imperial Navy, but it was still a massive investment and there were quite a few corporate outposts on the other worlds. Losing them, when added to everything else the rebels had destroyed in the last few months, would hurt. Not for the first time, she asked herself just how long the Empire could sustain the war. She knew enough about the Empire’s dented economy to know that it might not be very long.

“They’re launching additional drones,” she noted. “Do you think they suspect something?”

“Probably,” Wachter said. He grinned at her, mischievously. “The only question is what do they suspect? The truth… or something else?”

He clapped his hands together, then addressed the coordinators. “On my command,” he ordered, “the fleet is to advance towards the enemy.”

Penny swallowed. The plan struck her as too much cleverness, particularly if the timing went wrong. But the rebels could hardly refuse the bait Wachter intended to dangle in front of them. They wanted the Morrison Fleet? They’d have their shot at taking it out. But it would also line them up for an ambush…

“Yes, sir,” the coordinator said.

The display changed as the enemy fleet finished its reconfiguration, pushing out additional smaller ships as it angled towards the planet. Penny watched, admiring the crisp professionalism the rebels showed. Even after five months of constant exercises, endless drills and summery reliefs for gross incompetence and corruption, the Morrison Fleet could barely dream of completing such a manoeuvre so quickly. Maybe in a few more months, she told herself, if Wachter stayed in command. It was quite likely that the Thousand Families wouldn’t allow him to continue to hold the fleet. They’d be more likely to insist he retire again before he got ideas.

“The command is given,” Wachter said. “The fleet is to advance towards the enemy.”

“Admiral,” the tactical officer said, “the enemy fleet is leaving orbit.”

Colin blinked in surprise. Was the enemy fleet trying to escape, although it was too late to do that without a running battle? But no — the display showed the enemy fleet coming right at them, without a care in the world. It made no sense, Colin knew; someone smart enough to do the right thing wouldn’t simply throw it away, would he?

He ran through the vectors in his head. There was no way the enemy fleet could escape engaging missiles with his formation, not now. And, trapped in the gravity shadow, there would be no way they could escape the arsenal ships. Even if they had improved their point defence — and his drones suggested there had been some improvement — it wouldn’t save them from a hammering. His forces would take a beating too, but it would be survivable.

There had to be a trick. But what?

He briefly contemplated possible alternatives. The enemy could be trying to bluff him, to force him to retreat… or they could have a nasty surprise waiting for him. He examined the sensor records, wondering if the Imperial Navy had finally deployed its own version of the arsenal ship. But there were no non-standard ships included in the enemy fleet. They could have added extra external racks, even bolted missile pods to their hulls… and it wouldn’t give them a significant advantage. No, something was odd.

“We will hold position at the edge of the gravity shadow,” he said, finally. The enemy seemed to be doing precisely what he wanted them to do. But they had to know it too. “And lock weapons on the enemy superdreadnaughts. Prepare to fire.”

“Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.

Penny felt oddly exposed as the two fleets converged. There was no way for the enemy to identify the command ship — Wachter had set up an encrypted signalling system, just to make it impossible for anyone to locate him — but she still felt vulnerable. They would be trapped in the gravity shadow when the enemy fleet closed to missile range. If they managed to fire a colossal missile swarm, she knew the Imperial Navy would be badly damaged.

“Send the signal,” Wachter ordered, his voice as calm as if he were addressing a class at the academy. “Tell Yamani I want her ships in position two minutes from now.”

Penny looked over at him. If the timing was skewed…

“Our formation is starting to slip,” Wachter commented. “Tell the lead starships to hold their horses. We don’t want to tip our hand too soon.”

Colin frowned down at the display, puzzled. Something was wrong about the enemy formation, something that was becoming clearer and clearer as the seconds ticked by. The Imperial Navy, having evolved its tactics over hundreds of years, had long since concluded that superdreadnaughts were best handled as a single solid core. There was no point in spreading them out when a solid mass of superdreadnaughts couldn’t be threatened, let alone destroyed, by anything possessing less firepower.

But the enemy formation was starting to drift. Some superdreadnaughts were keeping up with the rest of the fleet, others were falling behind. Were they trying to tempt him with the prospect of bringing all of his strength to bear against a small fragment of their force… or did they have something else in mind? Or…

“Enemy fleet will enter missile range in two minutes,” the tactical officer said. “They’re probing our formation heavily.”

Of course they are, Colin thought. They want to know where to aim for best effect.

But their formation still made no sense. A shiver ran down his spine as he studied the display, trying to understand what he was seeing. Could the rear superdreadnaughts be having drive problems? Had they lost a node or two? Or…

“Shit,” he said, out loud. The enemy plan was cunning… and he’d almost fallen completely for it. “Alter course; bearing…”

“Contacts,” the sensor officer snapped. New red icons appeared on the display. “Multiple contacts, including at least two superdreadnaught squadrons!”

Gutsy bastard, Colin thought. He’d sent a third of his force away, using drones to mask their absence. No wonder some of the superdreadnaughts had seemed to fall back. Drones simply couldn’t keep up their speed for long. And crafty too.

“Designate the newcomers as Enemy-Two,” he ordered, as the display stabilised. They’d need at least five minutes to recharge their flicker drives, five minutes he had no intention of giving them. But the enemy commander had caught him very neatly between two fires. If he swung his ships around to engage Enemy-Two, Enemy-One would have a clean shot at his hulls. But there was no alternative. Enemy-Two would be in missile range in seconds. “Lock missiles on Enemy-Two, then fire at will. I say again, fire at will.”

Moments later, the superdreadnaughts launched their first barrage.