Democracy's Might

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“They’re redoubling their fire,” the tactical officer reported.

Wachter smiled. “Omega must be working,” he said. “They would have jumped out by now if they could.”

Penny couldn’t disagree. The rebels had to know they would lose the battering match — or that they would win, only to have their fleet battered into uselessness. And they weren’t stupid enough to stay and fight when the odds were so badly stacked against them. No, Wachter was right. They should have retreated by now. If, of course, they could retreat.

The Admiral raised his voice. “Continue firing,” he ordered. “And launch the second set of gunboats.”

The spy cursed out loud as the superdreadnaught rocked, almost sending her stumbling into a bulkhead. Whatever was going on outside the hull had to be violent; her damage control team had been rushed from place to place, hastily removing and replacing components that had burned out during the battle. The more advanced teams, she’d heard, were actually working on the hull, even though the superdreadnaught was still fighting for survival. She wasn’t sure if that was bravery or sheer desperation.

Rogers caught her hand, then pulled her down the corridor towards the damage control station. The spy glowered at his back; they’d slept together once and now he was all protective? It wouldn’t have been so bad, she knew, if she hadn’t wanted some privacy and a chance to access the mainframe again. But then, perhaps she would have found his concern irritating even if she hadn’t had any other problems.

“Get these components replaced,” Engineer Richards barked. He shoved a datapad and a box of spare parts at Rogers, who took them and glanced at the instructions. The ship’s network was very good at identifying problems, the spy had to admit. But then, the superdreadnaught design had been established for hundreds of years. “Now!”

Rogers threw the spy one final look, then fled. The spy rolled her eyes, then looked up at Richards. He passed her a toolkit and a handful of spare parts, then another datapad. The spy looked at the pad, noted that she had to climb back into the tubes, then set off. It was less useful than working on the hull or patching up cracks in the bulkheads, she knew, but it gave her a chance to complete her own mission. Besides, while Rogers and several of the others had complained about not doing anything useful, keeping the ship’s various networks up and running was important to their survival. The datanet alone was a key part of the point defence network.

She clambered into the tube and climbed towards her destination. There was a faint smell of burning material in the air, suggesting that power surges had damaged or destroyed more than a few components. One of the shield generators had already failed, damaged beyond repair; the spy had helped the crew shut it down, then put it to one side. It would take hours to replace it, even assuming that they had the required components on hand. By then, the battle would be decided, one way or the other.

There was no sign of anyone else in the tubes, she realised, as she reached the workstation. She opened the hatch to make it look as though she was doing something useful, then spliced her datapad into the command network node. One of the little tricks few crewmen were ever taught was that it was possible to link directly into the network, without setting off any alarms. The spy braced herself, then tapped in the commands to send the message. An accurate update on the rebel fleet, she was sure, would be very helpful to her superiors.

The trick, she’d been taught, was to put the fact she was doing something wrong out of her mind. Criminals were often caught because they were frozen by the thought of doing something criminal, something that could get them in real trouble. They hesitated… and were lost. The spy continued to do her job, even as the message uploaded itself into the communications network. It would almost certainly be missed in the heat of battle.

As soon as the message was gone, she disengaged the datapad and went back to work, removing and replacing each of the damaged components. The network bleeped its approval, allowing her to seal up the section and start making her way back to the damage control station. There was no shortage of work for her and the rest of the crew…

“Admiral,” Penny said, in surprise. “Director Smyth is trying to contact you. He’s using the emergency codes.”

Wachter turned away from the display, surprised. “He shouldn’t have those codes at all,” he said. There was a hint of cold anger in his voice. “But why am I not surprised he does?”

Penny wasn’t surprised either. It was hard, sometimes, for a junior officer to get the Admiral’s attention. The emergency codes automatically prioritised their message, at the cost of a court martial or summery demotion if the Admiral deemed the message unimportant. They shouldn’t have been shared with anyone below the rank of Captain, let alone someone outside the Navy. But Imperial Intelligence had its ways of collecting pieces of information that could be used to its advantage.

“Put him through,” Wachter added. “But if it isn’t important, I will have him shot.”

“Admiral,” Smyth said. “Our listening posts just picked up a message from the rebel ships.”

Wachter lifted an eyebrow, then looked at Penny, who shrugged. They’d certainly not picked up any message. But Imperial Intelligence was known for having a few tricks up its sleeves that were rarely shared with others.

“Did you?” Wachter said. “And what did the message say?”

“It gave a fleet breakdown of the rebel ships,” Smyth said. “But it came directly from the rebel command ship.”

Wachter smiled. Penny understood. The fleet breakdown was likely outdated by now — they’d certainly inflicted a great deal of damage in the battle — but knowing which ship served as the enemy flagship would be very useful. Taking it out would force the rebels to sort out who was in command, which wouldn’t be easy under fire. Even if they had a successor primed and ready to step in, they’d still have to make sure everyone knew that authority had been transferred.

“Pass us the details,” Wachter ordered. He’d cut Imperial Intelligence out of the command network, shortly after taking command of the fleet. In hindsight, that might have been an error. “And thank you.”

Penny smiled as one of the rebel superdreadnaughts blinked yellow, marking it as the command ship. It was utterly indistinguishable from its fellows, but if Imperial Intelligence was correct… maybe, just maybe, the spooks were worth their keep after all.

“Target that ship,” Wachter ordered. “I want it gone.”

Colin forced his mind to think, logically. The false gravity field had to be a trick. He was sure of that, because a real gravity field would have shown up on the sensors long before they tried to flicker out. And the arsenal ships had left without impediment. They couldn’t have done that if they were deep within the gravity shadow. Hell, a destroyer could flicker into planetary orbit… no, it had to be a trick.

Or had the arsenal ships simply left before the field was deployed?

He scowled as the Imperial Navy resumed its bombardment, its missiles roaring into his fleet with deadly intent. Thankfully, he’d managed to redeploy his smaller ships to provide some additional cover, now that the two enemy fleets had merged together, but it was still going to hurt him. There hadn’t been a running battle for centuries, at least until the revolution had begun. Both sides, Colin was sure, were going to take one hell of a beating. But logically the enemy would still be able to flicker out…

“Damn it,” he said out loud, as he realised the truth. Such a simple trick — and so effective when deployed in the heat of battle. Most Imperial Navy officers wouldn’t even have understood what they were seeing. “Contact all ships; remove the safety interlocks from the flicker drives.”

He found himself laughing in bitter admiration. Most Imperial Navy officers didn’t really understand the nuts and bolts of their starships. But Colin, at Frandsen’s suggestion, had spent months studying the inner workings of Shadow, back when he’d been planning the mutiny. The safety interlocks were just… there, unquestioned. And if someone could spoof them into thinking they were in a gravity field, the flicker drive would refuse to activate.

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer said.

Colin thought, rapidly. The safety interlocks were physical; they’d have to be removed manually. And that explained, he realised, why the arsenal ships had been able to leave. They hadn’t been constructed by the Imperial Navy; if the Geeks had left the safety interlocks in place, they were probably different enough to prevent them from being so easily spoofed.

But would they have enough time to remove the locks before they were hammered into scrap metal?

“Sir,” the tactical officer said, “the enemy is locking weapons on us.”

Colin looked up. “Us specifically? This ship?”

“Yes, sir,” the tactical officer said. “They have a solid lock on our hull.”

Colin blanched as he saw a colossal barrage separate itself from the enemy ships, “Move up the point defence ships to cover us,” he ordered. If General Montgomery was being targeted by every enemy ship, survival would become very difficult. “And alert Commodore Grayson. He may have to take command in a hurry.”

“Admiral, the engineers think it will take at least ten minutes to disable all the sensor interlocks,” the communications officer said. “They’re working as fast as they can.”

“Understood,” Colin said. Engineers had a habit of overstating the time it would take to perform repairs, although he’d tried to cure his engineers of that habit. This time, he hoped they were exaggerating. “Warn all hands to brace for impact.”

He settled back into his command chair, thinking hard. How the hell had the enemy identified the command ship? It should have been impossible…

… But they’d done it.

Commodore Jeremy Damiani was feeling oddly constrained as the Shadow Fleet retreated from Morrison. Battlecruisers were designed for fast, slashing attacks on enemy targets, not slogging battles. They didn’t have the armour or shields to stand in the wall of battle. But there was no real alternative. If the fleet scattered, they might make it outside the range of whatever was spoofing the safety interlocks — or they might simply be picked off one by one.

“They’re targeting the flagship,” his tactical officer reported.

“Move us to provide cover,” Jeremy ordered. A battlecruiser could be replaced far quicker than a superdreadnaught, particularly one carrying the fleet commander. Colin was vitally important to the rebels, even if he hadn’t realised it himself. He was not only their commander, but the person who had inspired millions of others to rebel against the Empire. “And deploy additional ECM drones, then fire on the gunboats.”

He silently cursed whoever had come up with that tactic under his breath. The gunboats carried enough sensor gear to see through most of the ECM haze, allowing them to target their missiles with a precision that was normally absent. Besides, with most of them aimed at a single ship, ECM was only of limited effectiveness anyway.

“Incoming missiles,” the tactical officer said. “Point defence engaging… now!”

Jeremy watched, grimly, as enemy missiles started to die. There were some disadvantages to their decision to target a single ship, he noted; the other rebels ships didn’t have to worry about protecting themselves. Colin had improved the point defence network remarkably, but there were still limits. Normally, targeting one ship alone was regarded as poor tactics. But it might well pay off for the enemy.

And a handful of missiles made it through the web of point defence and slammed home.

“The flagship took several hits,” the tactical officer reported. “She lost at least one drive compartment.”

And if she lost the flicker drive, she’s dead, Jeremy thought, grimly.

“Incoming missiles,” the sensor officer snapped. “They’re spreading out their fire again…”

“Brace for impact,” Jeremy roared, as the missiles closed in rapidly. Four died, but three more made it through to detonate against the shields. “All hands, brace for impact…”

A laser head detonated, sending a beam of focused energy punching through the shields and digging into the rear of the ship. Jeremy clung to his command chair for dear life as the ship shuddered, alarms echoing through the entire ship. He forced himself to look up at the status display, then cursed as he saw just how much damage had been inflicted on his ship.

“Fusion Two and Three are gone,” the damage control officer reported. “Fusion Four needs to be shut down, the sooner the better. And the flicker drive is disabled.”

Jeremy felt cold ice running down his spine. If the flicker drive was gone… he looked down at his console, trying to think. The drive field was still functional, but with only one fusion core to provide power and a handful of missing nodes it was anyone’s guess how long it would remain at full power. There was no time to evacuate his crew to another ship, not with the enemy breathing down their necks. Hell, it was far too likely that they would drop out of formation any second now…

A dull thump ran through the ship, followed by a sudden shift in the gravity field. “Sir, we just lost two more nodes,” the helmsman reported. “We’re losing speed rapidly.”

We’re dead, Jeremy thought.

“Bring us about, if you can,” he ordered. There was no point in trying to evade the enemy, not now. Even a ponderous superdreadnaught could run them down — and a gunboat could poke holes in the hull. If nothing else, they’d have a better chance at shooting down the gunboats before they were overwhelmed. “And lock weapons on the lead enemy gunboats.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said. The tactical officer echoed him a moment later.

Jeremy felt a moment of grim pride. His crew had fought splendidly, even though there was no longer any way to escape. Judging by the reports, repairing the flicker drive would be a job for a shipyard, not his damage control crews. But there was no hope of getting to a friendly yard.

“Fire at will,” he ordered.

Colin cursed out loud as he saw Shadow fall out of formation, almost completely dropping out of the datanet. The last update suggested that the ship was too badly damaged to escape, leaving her crew — including one of his closest friends — at the mercy of the Imperial Navy.

“Admiral,” the coordinator reported, “the safety interlocks have been removed.”

“Understood,” Colin said. He stared down at the display. It had been easier when it had just been his life at risk… but had there ever been a time when that was true? “Prepare to jump.”

No one really knew what happened if a ship jumped from inside a gravity shadow. Some theories said that the ship was displaced in time rather than space, others suggested that the ship was simply ripped apart and the atoms scattered over countless light years. But now… if they were wrong, if the gravity shadow was real, the entire fleet was about to commit suicide.

And, even if most of the fleet got away, there would be some ships left behind.

I’m sorry, he thought, grimly.

“Jump,” he ordered.

“Admiral,” the tactical officer said, “the rebel fleet is jumping out.”

Penny looked over at Wachter, wondering — despite herself — just what shape his irritation would take. The enemy had escaped a trap that should have caught them and held them still long enough for their ships to be battered to nothingness, even though she knew that the trap had been largely illusionary. Someone on the other side had worked out what was actually happening and had managed to remove the safety interlocks in time to escape.

“A pity,” Wachter said. “But we still drove them away from the planet.”

Penny relaxed, silently annoyed with herself. How many times did she have to recall that Wachter wasn’t Percival?

She watched the rebel ships leaving, noting absently just how badly scattered their formation had become. Instead of a single mass jump, the ships were leaving, one by one. And five ships remained behind, seemingly trapped.

“Transmit a demand for surrender,” Wachter ordered. “Tell them that we will treat them decently, under the Gulliver Protocols. And then move our ships to cover them.”

Jeremy looked down at his display. Further resistance was futile, he knew. A battered squadron of superdreadnaughts were covering Shadow, ready to atomise the battlecruiser if she showed any signs of being willing to continue the fight. He wanted to fire, but it would only get his crew killed. Would the enemy honour their word?

But he couldn’t let them get killed for nothing.

“Purge the computers, then drop shields,” he ordered. The damaged battlecruiser would need months of repair before she could return to duty, even assuming the Empire believed it worth the investment. “And signal our surrender.”

“Admiral,” the communications officer said, “the remaining rebel ships are surrendering.”

“Good,” Wachter said. He keyed his console. “Deploy the Marines.”

He looked up at Penny, then around the compartment. “And send a courier boat to Earth,” he added. “We have met the enemy and kicked his ass.”

It was not, Penny decided, very elegant. But it got the point across nicely. They’d won the battle, given the enemy a bloody nose and secured Morrison. It would be weeks before the rebels could resume the offensive, if they ever did. Wachter had definitely kicked their collective ass. She knew she should be pleased…

So why did she feel so ambivalent about their victory?