Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

The seconds ticked by as the fleet continued its deployment. Newer installations appeared on the display as the sensors picked them out, only to be dismissed; Colin had no intention of raiding the rest of the system unless there was no other alternative. Ideally, he wanted Morrison intact. But he had a feeling the enemy commander wasn’t going to let him take it so easily. The enemy ships were defiantly holding their ground.

“Continue towards primary target,” he ordered, finally. Maybe the enemy would come out to fight…

…Or maybe they would have to charge straight into a meatgrinder after all.

Penny had been dozing in her bunk when the alarms sounded. She promptly rolled out of bed, grabbed her uniform and pulled it on, then ran for the hatch. Somewhat to her annoyance, Admiral Wachter had beaten her to the flag deck and taken his place in the heart of the giant Combat Information Centre. The massive display showed hundreds of red icons advancing towards the planet with deadly intent. There were so many of them, combined with the rebel ECM, that the sensors weren’t even sure just how many enemy starships there were.

“Launch drones,” Admiral Wachter ordered, calmly. “Hang the beancounters for once.”

He looked over as Penny came to a halt beside him. “You’ll notice, I hope, that the rebels want me to do something?”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said. “They want you to come out and fight.”

“And if I was a young idiot, I’d do just that,” Wachter said. He grinned at her, pressing his fingertips together. “They seem to have jumped in too far from the planet, but they’re trying to tempt me. If I take the fleet away, they would have a chance to catch us in the gravity shadow, but outside the effective range of the orbital fortifications. We’d certainly get hurt badly before we made it out.”

His smile grew wider. “But we need to make them think we’re idiots,” he added. “Let us prepare for a desperate and futile flight.”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.

The communications officer turned to face the Admiral. “Sir, we’re picking up an all-ships transmission from the rebel fleet,” she said. “They’re beaming it right across the system.”

Wachter nodded, unsurprised. “Let’s hear it.”

Penny lifted her eyebrows as the rebel commander began to speak. “This is Admiral Colin Walker of the Shadow Fleet, representing the Popular Front. I call on you to surrender your ships and fortifications. If you surrender, we will return you to the Empire or intern you, if you do not wish to join us. But you will not have to die for an Empire that is slowly sucking the life out of humanity.

“Think about it! The Empire has destroyed uncounted millions of lives at the behest of the Thousand Families. Your lives, too, have been blighted by their greed. How many of you have been denied promotion because you didn’t have the right connections or family ties? How many of you have had to watch helplessly as injustice reigns supreme? Join us — help us put an end to it all.”

“Interesting argument,” Wachter muttered, making a slicing motion across his throat. The signal cut out. “And one that would have fallen on listening ears, a few months ago.”

Penny nodded. Wachter had taken more than a few precautions against another round of mutinies. Armed Marines were stationed on the larger ships, crews had been reshuffled randomly to break up any conspiracy networks and everyone had been kept thoroughly busy, as well as treated decently for the first time in years. But it was quite possible, she knew, that the rebels would convince others to join them. There might even be a mutiny on General Clive .

“Keep preparing for combat,” Wachter added. “And deploy the second flight of drones.”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.

The seconds ticked away. There was no mutiny, nor even any unrest as far as anyone could tell. Penny looked over at the Admiral and felt an odd thrill of admiration. There simply weren’t any other officers who could have upended everything, who could have made the decent officers and men feel they had a future, and had the nerve to face down Imperial Intelligence. If it had been Percival, she knew, there would have been a competition to see who could mutiny first.

She studied the rebel fleet as the drones revealed more of its nature, before they were picked off one by one. Forty-seven superdreadnaughts, all clearly in tip-top condition; twenty-two bulk freighters that the tactical computers classed as probably arsenal ships. Penny suspected they were right. No one in their right mind would bring a bulk freighter into a war zone. The ships were too slow to escape and utterly unarmed. Behind them, there were over a hundred and fifty smaller ships, ranging from battlecruisers to destroyers. The only oddity was the absence of gunboats.

“Their point defence network is definitely better than standard,” Wachter commented. He nodded towards the display, where the remaining drones were trying to pick up as much as they could before they died. But even losing a drone told them something about the enemy network. “Maybe as good as twenty to thirty percent more efficient.”

Penny ran it through in her head. Maybe not good enough to make a real difference, but the sides seemed to be evenly matched. Having a better point defence would definitely give the enemy some advantages. She studied their formation, then smiled when she realised that the enemy had pushed out their smaller ships to intercept missiles from Morrison. But they were still out of range…

“They’re taking advantage of the delay to get ready,” Wachter said. “Apart from the arsenal ships, I see no other non-standard ships in the formation. Do you concur?”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said. She hesitated, then voiced her opinion. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t have other surprises…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Wachter agreed. “But we can’t let fear hold us back, either.”

Penny looked up at the display, at the looming rebel fleet advancing towards them, and shuddered.

Colin watched, grimly, as the enemy fleet remained where it was, under the covering fire of the orbital fortresses. There were probably civilians on the planet right now, screaming curses at the military officers for not trying to defend the rest of the system, but it was precisely the right move. The enemy commander seemed to have more freedom than any normal officer would have been allowed.

It made no sense! Colin had been Percival’s aide long enough to know that Admirals were never given complete freedom of action, no matter who they were. If they were clients, they were suspected of wanting to place their patron on the throne; if they were aristocrats, they were assumed to be building up their own power bases. No Admiral with such a large fleet under his command would be allowed to operate completely independently. There was normally a triad of senior officers, while Imperial Intelligence would monitor their every move and make careful note of everything they did. Even eating the wrong food could damage a career.

But this commander seemed to have complete freedom of operation…

“No response, sir,” the communications officer said.

“No hint of a mutiny either,” the tactical officer added. “They seem loyal — or they have guns pointed at their heads.”

“Understood,” Colin said.

He allowed himself a moment of frustration, then pushed his irritation aside. The new commander had had around six months to prepare Morrison for attack. He had probably vetted his commanding officers, assigned Marines to various starships and taken whatever other precautions suggested themselves. The last set of mutinies had succeeded through luck and good judgement. It was relatively easy to secure a starship if one had enough time to make preparations.