Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

“Yes, Commodore,” her XO agreed. Sahrye was in the position of having to both command her ship and the entire squadron, if only because her former XO had been ordered to take command of another battlecruiser. Her crew weren’t quite used to it yet. “Missile reloading was only simulated, but reloading rates were improved too.”

“Let us hope they work that way in real life,” Sahrye said. She’d concentrated too much on simulations, which were never entirely exact. “In fact…”

She paused as a console chimed. “Commodore, a courier has just arrived from Parallax,” the communications officer said. “They’re under attack.”

“The Admiral called it,” Sahrye said. He’d noted that Parallax would almost certainly be targeted as the rebel juggernaut made its way towards Morrison. “Sound battlestations, then power up the flicker drive. It’s time to go to war.”

Parallax was an odd system, by anyone definition. It was a binary star system, with a small rocky planet that sat precisely at the barycentre between the two stars. According to the report Colin had scanned while planning the offensive, the corporation that owned the system had speculated that the planet had actually been moved into place by an alien race, although there was apparently no real evidence. Reading between the lines, Colin suspected that the whole story had been concocted to secure additional funding from the Empire. Rumours of advanced alien technology were sure to interest potential investors.

“I’m picking up no sign of anything larger than a gunboat,” the sensor officer said. “They’re scrambling now.”

Colin nodded, thoughtfully. Parallax was a corporate industrial node and starship repair yard, little else. There was no point in fighting for the world, not when there were more valuable targets in the Empire. He certainly didn’t intend to occupy it, not when the system couldn’t be held indefinitely. All he wanted to do was destroy the facilities and pull out.

“Transmit a demand that they evacuate their orbital facilities,” he ordered. “And tell them that we will leave their installations on the ground intact if the orbital stations are evacuated without a fight.”

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer said.

Colin watched grimly as the superdreadnaughts moved closer to their targets. The gunboats had to know they were no match for his fleet, so why were they trying to fight? Did they intend to place honour before reason — or did they think they were dead anyway? Parallax wasn’t an Earth-like world. If Colin broke his word and bombarded the facilities, anyone who survived the bombardment would suffocate when their suits ran out of air.

“Gunboats entering missile range in twenty seconds,” the tactical officer reported.

“Prepare to fire,” Colin ordered. He silently cursed the gunboat commanders under his breath. They had about as much hope against his fleet as a snowball had in hell, but they were still preparing to fight anyway. “I want them swept away with the first volley…”

“ Intrusion ,” the sensor officer snapped. “ Multiple contacts, flickering in right on top of us!”

Colin fought down the urge to swear. They’d walked right into a trap. The enemy had guessed their target — or one of their targets — and prepared an ambush. He watched as the display solidified, revealing a squadron of Imperial Navy battlecruisers. Hardly a threat to his force, but powerful enough to do some damage before they were destroyed.

“Bring us about,” he ordered, as the battlecruisers advanced towards his fleet. They’d jumped in at high speed; their crews had to be vomiting on the decks by now. “Lock missiles on target, prepare to fire as soon as they enter range.”

Sahrye winced in pain. Her stomach hurt; she’d dry-heaved violently as soon as they’d come out of the jump. Some of her crew had been even less lucky, according to the reports; they’d been stunned by the jump and had to be transported to sickbay. Two of her bridge crew had even fainted. Silently, she blessed her foresight in having their reliefs standing by. She’d anticipated the dangers of jumping at such high speed.

“One superdreadnaught squadron, thirty-seven smaller ships,” the sensor officer said. Her voice sounded raspy, but she’d managed to stay at her post. “I can’t pick up any cloaked ships.”

Sahrye understood her puzzlement. The rebels had more than one superdreadnaught squadron under their command, so where were the others? But then, no one would have anticipated needing more than one squadron to smash the installations orbiting Parallax. Hell, one squadron was overkill. The remainder of the rebel fleet might be hitting other worlds right now…

She pushed the nagging worry aside. “Lock weapons on target,” she croaked. Her throat hurt when she tried to speak, but she forced herself to get the words out. “Prepare to fire.”

They hadn’t pulled the jump off perfectly, but no one ever did outside simulations. They’d materialised just outside missile range, on an angle that would bring them into missile range quickly without actually heading directly into the teeth of enemy fire. Sahrye loved her battlecruisers, but she had no illusions about how long they would last if it came down to a direct missile exchange with a squadron of superdreadnaughts. And if they closed to energy range they’d be atomised within seconds.

“Entering missile range now,” the tactical officer reported. He sounded perfectly fine, damn him. “Commodore?”

“Fire at will,” Sahrye ordered. “All ships, fire at will.”

The battlecruiser shuddered as she emptied her external racks, followed by a massive broadside from her port missile tubes. Moments later, the ship flipped over and fired a second broadside from her starboard tubes. Sahrye watched, grimly, as missiles roared towards their targets, the two closest enemy superdreadnaughts. They might not be enough to actually damage their targets, but they’d sure as hell know they’d been kissed.

“Enemy ships are returning fire,” the tactical officer said.

Sahrye gritted her teeth. Each superdreadnaught mounted more internal tubes than her entire squadron and they’d spat out enough missiles to wipe her ships out several times over. They weren’t happy to be ambushed, she guessed. Thankfully, the Admiral wasn’t expecting her to produce a victory, merely give the rebels a fright. And they’d definitely succeeded at that!

“Angle us away from them and launch decoys,” she ordered. They had no business being anywhere near such firepower. “And flicker us out the moment the drive has recharged. Don’t wait for orders, just do it.”

“Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer said.

“Reorder the formation,” Colin ordered. “Move the smaller ships up to block the enemy missiles.”

He watched, as dispassionately as he could, as the missile swarm bore down on his ships. By chance or careful planning, the loyalists had gotten the drop on him — and if they’d brought another superdreadnaught squadron or two along, it might well have proven disastrous. As it was, he had a chance to test his new point defence doctrine before encountering the Morrison Fleet.

The point defence network went active the moment the missiles entered engagement range, tracking each and every missile and assigning it a priority. Thankfully, this particular group of loyalists hadn’t thought of trying to strip away his smaller ships first — but then, they didn’t have the firepower to stand and fight. Instead, his smaller ships concentrated on protecting their larger cousins instead of protecting themselves. One by one, the missiles flickered and vanished from the display.