Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

The armoury itself was in the heart of the fortress’s security zone. It should have been manned by Marines, who would generally use it for their own training simulations, but Admiral Wilhelm had moved all of his fleet’s Marines to other postings. Charlie hoped that they were alive, wherever they were, but they would have represented a clear and present danger to Admiral Wilhelm’s survival. Colin had worked with his ship’s Marines to take the ship, but Admiral Wilhelm wouldn’t have such links, would he? The safest course of action would be to kill them all.

He pushed Quinn to the rear, insisting on Sasha and himself leading the way towards the reprogrammed SD Troopers, who watched them with dull unconcern. Admiral Wilhelm’s mind techs had reprogrammed them with a complete lack of concern for the consequences, or their own later well being. SD Troopers were completely expendable. Everyone knew that. They were loathed, hated and feared all over the Empire, men — always men, no women — who had been altered to serve the Empire without question. They committed horrendous atrocities without batting an eyelid, looting, raping and burning their way across any world that had displeased the Empire. They had no consciences. They’d been burned out of them.

“You may not enter this area,” the lead SD said, lifting a plasma rifle to firing position. He was slow, too slow, and Charlie caught him with his knife. The SD didn’t even have a chance to press the firing stud before Charlie cut his throat and sent his body falling to the ground. Sasha threw her knife directly into her SDs head and sent him staggering back against the bulkhead. He was dead before he hit the dead.

“Nicely done,” one of the enlisted men said.

Quinn looked sick. “Did… did you have to do that?”

“Yes,” Sasha said, flatly. “They would have killed all of us without hesitation if they had caught us doing something we shouldn’t be doing. They cannot be reasoned with, or converted to your cause, whatever they may have been in their previous lives.”

Charlie nodded, concentrating on opening the access hatch. The computers accepted his access codes and opened for him, allowing him to step into the armoury. It was loaded with hundreds of weapons, including enough heavy weapons to outfit an entire Marine division. Puzzled, he inspected it carefully, trying to understand why they were there. No one in their right mind would fire such weapons onboard a fortress — the incidental damage would be too great — and there was little point in keeping them in orbit. They were designed for use on the surface of the planet.

“Start taking the weapons,” he ordered, tightly. The mystery could be solved later. “No, don’t bother with the battlesuits, just the light body armour. The battlesuits have to be fitted for each user and we don’t have time.”

He watched grimly as the rebels armed up, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before someone came by and demanded to know what was going on. Quinn had his men working in shifts, taking weapons and moving onwards to their predetermined targets, combining enlisted men with more experienced junior officers who could take control of the vital systems at once. He had underestimated the sheer number of weapons on the station, whatever Admiral Wilhelm had in mind. If the other teams were finding the same levels of firepower, the entire planetary defence network would be fatally compromised.

“Come on,” Quinn said, finally. He looked like a pirate, carrying enough energy weapons and grenades to pose a serious danger to his fellows if one of the grenades was hit by enemy fire, but there was no mistaking the determination in his voice. “You three, stay behind and ensure that no one who’s not with us gets in here… and drag the Blackshirts in here. We may as well try to keep them from being discovered.”

“Good thinking,” Sasha said. She hefted her own plasma rifle and smiled. “The command centre?”

Quinn nodded and led them through a twisting maze of maintenance corridors and internal tubes. Their passage was slow and cumbersome, but it had the advantage of being almost deserted; they only met two people on the brief climb through the fortress’s interior, both of whom were stunned at once. If the rebellion succeeded, they could be recovered later. If it failed, their fate would hardly matter.

He clicked once on the handheld comm he’d taken from the armoury as they climbed out of the maintenance tubes, just outside Officer Country. Not unlike a superdreadnaught, Officer Country — and the command centre beyond — was right at the heart of the fortress. It was intended to give maximum protection to the command crew, although if the fortress lost its shields, the protection wouldn’t be enough to save the fragile human beings crewing the massive fortress. The core of the fortress itself might survive, but the crew would die in any number of horrific ways.

The other advantage of Officer Country, of course, was that there were only three ways into the centre of the fortress. Quinn had spotted that particular weakness at once; he would, Charlie had decided, have made a good Marine, or Imperial Intelligence operative. Once they were inside Officer Country, it would be extremely hard to dislodge them, even if the remainder of the fortress crew felt inclined to try.

“Team two, take the entrances and seal them,” Quinn ordered, calmly enough. “The rest of you, with me.”

The two guards at the command hatch were suppressed quickly, allowing Quinn to lead the way into the command centre. The fortress’s crew had no time to react as the rebels opened fire with stunners, knocking the commander and the remainder of his command crew out before they could do anything to sabotage the fortress. Quinn had wanted to demand their surrender, but Charlie had advised him to knock them out, just in case one of them felt like being a hero. People reacted in the oddest ways when faced with an unexpected challenge; there was no point in risking disaster just to be melodramatic.

“We did it,” Quinn said, astonished.

“Not yet,” Charlie snapped. He stepped over to one of the consoles and rapidly brought up a display of the fortress’s internal status. The other two teams had succeeded in their mission, capturing the power systems and life support, all without any casualties. The rebels were sealed inside their captured sections, while the remainder of the crew had no idea what was going on. “We have to find out how the others did.”

There were fifteen fortresses orbiting Cottbus, each one powerful enough to scorch the entire planet without support, controlling a secondary array of automated orbital weapons platforms, emplaced missiles and other surprises. Quinn had dispatched teams of rebels to each of them, but statistically Charlie feared that one or more of the teams would fail. If that happened…

“They’re checking in,” Quinn said, relieved. “We have twelve of the fortresses outright and one more is being contested.”

Charlie frowned. “What about the superdreadnaughts?”

His gaze slipped to the tactical display. The three squadrons of superdreadnaughts on guard duty were orbiting within firing range, but they would have time to react if a warning was transmitted from any of the enemy fortresses. He was surprised that they’d been allowed to remain within the gravity shadow while Admiral Garland was running amok in the sector, but the shipyard had to be defended at all costs. He hadn’t told Quinn — it would only upset him — but their backup plan involved using the fortresses to destroy the shipyard to prevent it from producing any more war material.

“They’re untouched,” Quinn said, grimly. He hesitated. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. They couldn’t raise combat shields without warning the enemy ships, but they could target them with missiles, linking the combined fire of all twelve fortresses into an irresistible salvo. “If those ships remain active, the Admiral will be able to use them against Cottbus, or Earth.”