Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

“I have told you, time and time again, that the Empire is necessary ,” Admiral Wachter said softly. “Do not think about your patrons or your clients. Do not think about the good of your own career. Think, instead, of the importance of beating the rebels here and now. If we win this fight, we secure both our own futures and the future of humanity; if we lose, the Empire may come apart and humanity will be cast adrift on a violent sea as all the old grudges come back to haunt us.

“Today, we fight for everyone. Today, we put the good of the Empire ahead of our selfish desires.”

He looked up, his gaze passing over the holograms. “Make the Empire proud,” he ordered, quietly. “And don’t forget what we’re fighting for.”

Penny felt an odd lump in her throat as the silence grew and grew. But what did the Empire mean to her? She’d had hopes, once, of reaching a high rank by her own efforts. But she’d prostituted herself — there was no better word — to Percival, only to discover that no matter what she did, she would never be able to rise on her own. And Percival had beaten her, abused her physically and mentally… and seemed ready to make her the scapegoat for his own failings.

And the Empire hadn’t treated her any better. They’d interrogated her thoroughly, almost breaking her mind, before setting her loose and expecting her to still be faithful to them.

And yet… she liked Admiral Wachter. He was admirable, very much a rarity among the senior officers she’d met. She wanted to please him, she wanted to impress him, even though there was no logical reason why the Empire should have her loyalty. It had used her, then tried to dispose of her when someone had to take the fall. And yet… her thoughts ran in circles, mocking her. What did it say about her when she would happily give her loyalty to Wachter, a degree of commitment she had never offered to anyone else, while she found herself oddly unconcerned about the fate of the Empire?

“We will follow Combat Plan Nine,” Wachter said, his words breaking into her thoughts. “I want Force One” — he looked over at Commodore Yamani, who had been placed in command of Force One as a reward for her victory — “to depart within the hour. Use all necessary measures to remain unnoticed. We have to assume that the rebels are watching the system.”

Penny nodded. The advancing wave of rebel starships had long since passed Morrison, assuming that the handful of brutal attacks on supply convoys had been rebel ships. Some of the attacks had been thoroughly nasty, suggesting that pirates had returned to the Core Worlds. The Imperial Navy, so heavily tied up in defending Earth, Morrison and the other Core Worlds, was too badly overstretched to provide escorts. And each attack convinced shipping companies to keep their ships in orbit, rather than plying the spacelanes.

“Force Two will remain here, but go to full tactical alert,” Wachter added. “I want double shifts on duty at all times. All leaves are cancelled; if you still have crewmen on Morrison, call them back at once. When the rebels attack, I plan to be ready for them.

“Fortresses are also to go on full alert. Gunboats are to sweep the outer edges of the gravity shadow at all times, watching for rebel spies. But see to it that crews with special training are held back. We’re going to need them soon enough.”

He smiled, coldly. “This is the first time since Camelot that the rebels have faced an equal or superior force,” he told them. “It’s time to make them remember why the Imperial Navy has never lost a war. Dismissed.”

Penny watched as the holograms blinked out, one by one, until they were alone in the compartment. Wachter looked tired, but there was an odd glint in his eye. It took her a moment to realise that he was actually looking forward to the coming battle. They’d planned as thoroughly as they could, exercised vigorously… yet they wouldn’t know how well they’d done until they were tested in fire. And besides, Wachter needed results. There were too many people who would blame him for any failure, no matter how minor.

He looked up at her, as if he was surprised to see her. “Yes, Captain?”

Penny hesitated, torn by a conflicting mixture of emotions. She wanted to ask him, openly, if the Empire was truly worth defending, yet she knew that it wasn’t the time. Wachter hadn’t bitten her head off for asking questions, no matter how sensitive, but he was truly loyal to the Empire. And then… if he had been Percival, he would have insisted on taking her to bed, knowing it would help prepare him for the following day. But he wasn’t Percival.

He could have asked — and she would have said yes. But he hadn’t asked. He’d respected her right to choose. And, if she did make that decision, it would be hers.

She didn’t know if the Empire truly deserved her loyalty. But Admiral Wachter certainly did.

“Make sure you sleep well, Admiral,” she said. If he wanted to invite her to his bed… angrily, she pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t Percival. “We don’t know when they’ll be here.”

“Soon,” Wachter said. He gave her a tired smile. “The waiting is worst of all, apart from the fighting.”

His smile widened. “Make sure you sleep well too, Captain. I’m going to need you when the shit finally hits the fan.”

“All ships report ready, sir.”

Colin took a breath. He’d slept about as well as he’d expected, which wasn’t that well. In the end, he’d resorted to a pill for induced sleep, which had left him feeling sick for several minutes after he’d woken up. But there had been no choice, he told himself, as he washed and ate his breakfast. He couldn’t go into battle tired after a sleepless night.

“Set coordinates,” he said. “Jump in thirty seconds.”

His stomach clenched in anticipation as the timer ticked down to zero. Space twisted around the superdreadnaught, flickering them into the Morrison System. Colin winced at the all-too-familiar sensation in his gut, then forced himself to concentrate on the display. It was already filling up with icons. There were enough surrounding Morrison itself to make up a small galaxy.

“Jump completed, sir,” the XO reported. “Combat datanet established, datalinks up and running.”

“Launch drones,” Colin ordered. There was no point in trying to hide. Even a blind man wouldn’t have missed over two hundred starships flickering into the system. “Deploy the first squadrons as planned.”

He watched as the seconds ticked by. The enemy fortresses were already coming to full alert, while the superdreadnaughts brought up their drives and defensive shields. Their training showed, Colin realised grimly. They’d definitely exercised heavily over the past few months, enough to get their operations down to a fine art. Maybe they didn’t have many first-rate commanding officers, he saw, but they had at least one good Admiral.

“Transmit our message,” he said. One wave of drones was already plunging towards the planet, a second was spreading out around the Shadow Fleet. The first set of drones would be eliminated as soon as they came within enemy weapons range, but they would have time to provide more accurate information on the enemy positions before they died. “And inform me if there is any response.”

Piece by piece, the display updated itself. As Colin had expected, the enemy fleet remained near the planet, trapped within the gravity shadow. They wouldn’t be able to retreat for much longer, he knew; it wouldn’t be long before his fleet would be able to intercept them if they tried to run. But it would be a foolish move…

They’d be much safer near the planetary defences , he reminded himself. And our enemy, whoever he is, is hardly a fool .