Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

Penny frowned. She had wondered, in her darkest thoughts, if Daria was pulling Admiral Wilhelm’s strings as well. A war situation could be exploited with ease by anyone ruthless enough to do so, and Daria certainly didn’t lack for either courage or cunning. It was how she had survived so long. Penny remembered discussing the mysterious Daria, back when she had worked for Percival, but none of them had gotten near the truth. As far as they knew, the Empress had died somewhere in the vastness of interstellar space, even if no one had ever discovered a body.

She leaned forward. “Do you think that Admiral Wilhelm is working for her?”

“I doubt it,” Joshua said, after a moment. He sounded as if he had been distracted from some greater thought. “I knew him when he was a mere Commodore. I’m surprised that the Hohenzollern Clan decided to have him promoted. He always was an ambitious little bastard, with a wife who was as good as scheming as anyone else I have ever met. Sending her to Earth was a stroke of genius, on so many levels.”

He shook his head. “Why should he cooperate with her when he could claim the prize for himself?”

“I see,” Penny said. She didn’t understand all of the role Daria had assigned to Joshua — she had the oddest feeling that she was merely placing pieces in position for later use — but she could guess at the eventual plan. Joshua’s competence as a fleet commander was not in doubt. If Daria had been telling the truth, she even had a fleet for him to command. “What happens if he wins?”

“The Empire falls apart,” Joshua said, flatly. He gave her a tight bitter smile. “That cannot be allowed.”

The transport’s lights flickered once, warning them to brace themselves, before it returned to normal space. The display cleared and revealed a starscrape, with stars blazing endlessly in the darkness of space. When Penny had been younger, she’d been surprised to discover that stars didn’t twinkle in space, but the effect was caused by the light filtering through the atmosphere before it reached the surface. The transport tilted slightly, compensating for its arrival vector, before altering course and heading towards a set of running lights, blazing out in the distance.

Penny leaned forward as the transport moved closer to the massive bulk. It took on shape and form slowly, illuminated only by running lights and the occasional twinkle of maintenance drones, but it was easy to make out the shape of a General -class superdreadnaught. No one would ever give the designer of the starship class an award for good design, not when the idea had been to design an intimating ship rather than one that was aesthetically pleasing, but it did have a certain haughty grandeur.

“Four squadrons,” Joshua said, his voice unreadable. “There are four squadrons of superdreadnaughts here, enough to tip the balance against Admiral Wilhelm, if they were deployed with the Imperial Navy.”

Penny looked back at him. He had keyed the terminal and brought up a near-space display, using the handful of tuned-down IFF beacons to locate the different starships, waiting patiently near a space station that someone — and it was easy to guess who — had established, years ago. The level of forward planning was astonishing, let alone the sheer brazen nerve in stealing so much from Home Fleet, although she could see how it had been done. Corruption was so epidemic in the Imperial Navy that Daria, who’d commanded Home Fleet before making herself Empress, could have stolen enough war material to outfit a much larger fleet. She remembered, bitterly, just how badly Admiral D’Ammassa had stripped the Morrison Sector Fleet, just to earn himself billions of credits, and shivered. Joshua’s appointment as the Imperial Navy’s supreme commander, his reward for serving the Empress, would lead to the eradication of corruption.

“Four squadrons and over a hundred smaller ships,” Joshua said, thoughtfully. His voice had darkened significantly. “Where did they all come from?”

Penny knew part of the answer to that question. Four squadrons from Home Fleet had deserted during the final stages of the Battle of Earth, vanishing into flicker-space and ensuring a rebel victory. No one knew what had happened to them, until now. Daria’s command of Home Fleet had evidently had a far more lasting effect than Imperial Intelligence had ever understood… or did she command Imperial Intelligence as well? Just how far did her influence stretch?

“Perhaps she had them built at one of the many yards and quietly diverted,” Penny said, finally. It was the only explanation that made sense. There might be only three Type-I shipyards in the Empire, but there were hundreds of Type-II and Type-III shipyards, some of which even built starships for pirate crews, knowingly or otherwise. A creative accountant could hide the expenditure with ease. After all, the Empire rarely bothered to run more than a handful of audits, unless they wanted to ruin the shipyard in question. “Did she make the crews stay here with their ships?”

The transport slid towards the lead superdreadnaught, which read out as the General Monck , and docked neatly at once of the external hatches, rather than attempting to slip into the shuttlebay. Joshua stood up and adjusted his uniform, before opening the hatch and leading the way down to the transport’s airlock. When they stepped through the airlock, they were met by a full party of Household Troops standing at rest — and an old friend.

“Present arms,” Captain Anne Cotman said, as the Household Troops stood to attention. The motions, Penny noted, were different from more regular Marine performance, but it was clearly heartfelt. The presence of the Household Troops explained a great deal. They were only deployed on Imperial Navy starships under very rare circumstances. Joshua, as far as Penny knew, had been the only Admiral to have a brigade of Household Troops under his command for nearly a hundred years.

Joshua smiled as he saluted. “Permission to come onboard, Captain?”

“Granted,” Anne replied, as she returned his salute. She was wearing a uniform that Penny didn’t recognise at first, before finally placing it. A uniform of the Imperial Guard, outlawed for fifty years. Merely wearing it was a direct challenge to established authority. “We’ve been waiting for you, sir.”

She dismissed the Household Troops and led them through the superdreadnaught’s endlessly corridors, up to Officers Country. Penny used the time to inspect the superdreadnaught’s general condition and was pleased to see that it was as fresh and new as if it had just sailed out of the shipyard… and the dull background thrumming of the drives was pleasantly muted. A louder, more unpleasant noise generally meant that something was on the verge of going spectacularly wrong. She spotted a handful of familiar faces from the Morrison Sector Fleet as they entered Officer Country, men and women who’d served under Joshua at Morrison and respected him, and smiled. No wonder Daria had been able to keep them here for so long. They trusted Joshua…

It dawned on her, suddenly, that unless Joshua had known about the plot for far longer than seemed possible, Daria had been running a considerable risk. If Joshua hadn’t been available to command her little fleet, what would have happened to the crew? They might have been convinced to follow someone else, although Penny couldn’t think of anyone with the same degree of prestige and experience, or perhaps Daria had had a more final solution in mind. It was something to remember at the back of her thoughts.

“It’s good to see you again, Anne,” Joshua said, as soon as the hatch hissed closed. The Commander of a superdreadnaught was given almost palatial quarters, although Penny was pleased to see that Anne hadn’t filled hers with souvenirs and knickknacks. Percival’s quarters had been a tribute to his wealth and complete lack of anything reassembling taste, while Joshua had preferred nothing beyond a standard wall for his medals and awards. “How did you end up here?”