Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

“Which would leave us effectively defenceless,” Admiral Wilhelm agreed. The rebel forces massed at AlphaCent, perhaps the second most sensitive location in the Empire, wouldn’t be the pushovers that the Wakanda Space Navy had been. He was confident of a victory, but the cost would be steep… and they wouldn’t be able to replace their missiles quickly. They would have to withdraw almost at once, all the way back to Cottbus itself, just to reload. Who knew what the rebels could get up to in that time? “It would also be pointless destruction.”

He altered the display slightly. “And Earth itself?”

Keene considered it. “Victory, complete victory, if we win,” he said. “The rebel Provisional Government would have to stand and fight. They wouldn’t have a choice, unless they wanted to retreat and leave us with Earth. That leaves us with a more interesting problem — do we have the firepower, with us now, to defeat the rebels in battle above Earth?”

Admiral Wilhelm smiled darkly. Lady Madeline Hohenzollern’s intelligence network was actually fairly good when it came to political matters — although if they had known that Madeline was currently cooling her heels in one of his more unattractive cells, her friends and relatives would probably have been less eager to help — but the network wasn’t so good with military problems. It wouldn’t be able to address specific questions, such as how many starships were deployed to defend Earth, or who was in command of the Shadow Fleet, or anything else that might have been useful for anyone planning an offensive. It might not have mattered. The odds were that he didn’t know anyone who would be in a position of power in the Shadow Fleet. Colin Harper, the rebel leader, had been a mere Commander before the rebellion. The other leaders were equally obscure.

But he knew enough to gamble. “I believe so,” he said, carefully side-stepping the obvious question. The cold hard laws governing interstellar warfare told him that he had no choice, but to seek a quick victory — or accept defeat. The rebels still had control over far more industry and, given time, they could make continuing the war impossible. He recited, slowly, words that Carola had taught him, just before she’d departed for Earth onboard the Victorious .

Keene blinked. “Sir?”

“We have to move on Earth, one final throw of the dice, or accept defeat,” Admiral Wilhelm said. Keene would understand, as well as himself, that the plan had miscarried badly enough to require extreme measures. They hadn’t anticipated the loss of the supply dumps. “So… we move on Earth, and damned be he who first says, hold, enough.”

He cast his gaze back to the display, watching the sway of tactical icons, each one representing a starship or an orbital defence fortress, and smiled. Earth was, in theory, heavily defended, but at the same time, it presented almost unique challenges for the defenders. The sheer level of habitation and industry in the system was staggering to contemplate. Humanity’s birthworld might have been nearly deserted, apart from the Thousand Families, their servants and now the Provisional Government, but the remainder of the system was heavily populated. An attacker who was prepared to be careful had some advantages that would be denied the defenders.

His mouth broadened into a smile. “They’ll see us coming, of course,” he said. There weren’t that many targets worthy of his fleet. “They’ll know we’re on the way, but they won’t realise the true danger, until it’s too late.”

He straightened up and turned to face Keene. “Captain, contact the other ships and inform them that we will be flickering out within the hour for the first waypoint, and then proceeding directly to a waypoint only a few light years from Earth. Tell them that when we rendezvous there, I want to see their starships at the peak of their condition. I want to see trained crews and sparkling decks. I’ll confer with the other Admirals. You work on the Captains.”

“Aye, sir,” Keene said, rising to his feet.

“And tell them,” Admiral Wilhelm added, “to prepare for victory.”

He smiled as the hatch hissed closed behind Keene. The other Admirals would object, of course, but they would know that there was no choice. They had to make for Earth and, win or lose, they would make a grab for true power, or bring the entire system crashing down. The old order would never be restored.

Carola Wilhelm was starting to see why prison had been such an effective deterrent, at least for someone used to all kinds of mental simulation. Her cell was a small metal cube, three meters by three meters, with a bunk, a sink and a toilet, nothing else. It hadn’t taken her more than a minute to search the entire cell, revealing nothing beyond an uncomfortable pile of bedding and a single plastic cup. A quick check revealed that the cup was unbreakable and suicide, even if she had been contemplating it, wasn’t a possibility. The cell was impregnable by anything short of cutting lasers and perhaps fission blades… and somehow she had forgotten to bring them with her. She hadn’t been searched when she’d been escorted into her new home, but the closest thing she had to a weapon were her fingernails. Escape was impossible.

She lay on the bunk, staring at nothing. There was little in the cell to entertain her, or even to force her to use her mind, not even a possibility of escape. She counted sheep, or played games of chess in her head, but no amount of thinking could distract her from the fact she was bored. She had expected interrogators to come into the cell and start shouting questions, even if they didn’t break out the torture kits, or truth drugs, and she would almost have welcomed the distraction. Instead, she had been left in the cell… and she had no idea how long it had been since she had been a free woman. Going by meals, which arrived through a slit in the wall, she had been there for at least a week, but it was hard to tell. She didn’t even have a pen to make marks on the walls.

The door clicked, bringing her to instant attention. A thin light shone in from outside, revealing a tall slender form, very definitely female. Silhouetted, it was impossible to make out her features, but Carola knew who it was, who it had to be.

“Gwendolyn,” she said, surprised at how hoarse her voice had become. She normally talked throughout the day. “What a pleasure to see you here.”

Gwendolyn leaned forward. When she spoke, her voice was far more serious than Carola remembered. “There isn’t much time,” she whispered. “Getting into here took longer than I expected and the replacement guards will be on shift soon enough. Listen carefully. Your husband took Wakanda around a week ago, interstellar time.”

Carola blinked. “Wakanda?”

“A first-rank world, on the edge of Sector 19,” Gwendolyn said, flatly. Carola nodded, remembering. Wakanda had been so obscure that she hadn’t heard of it until Admiral Wilhelm had begun discussion war plans. It certainly hadn’t remained in her mind. Wakanda was an interstellar backwater. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but its fairly clear that he took the planet.”

“I see,” Carola said. She frowned, cursing her own mind. The stay in jail had taken some of the edge off her thoughts. It felt as if she were trying to think through cotton wool. “Where am I, anyway?”

Gwendolyn gave her an odd look. “Navajo Detention Centre,” she said, after a moment. Carola had worked out that she wasn’t on the moon, in the dreaded Luna Detention Centre, but she didn’t know any other detention centres on Earth. It had been a surprise to learn that they existed. “We need your help.”