Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

Penny wasn’t surprised either. It was hard, sometimes, for a junior officer to get the Admiral’s attention. The emergency codes automatically prioritised their message, at the cost of a court martial or summery demotion if the Admiral deemed the message unimportant. They shouldn’t have been shared with anyone below the rank of Captain, let alone someone outside the Navy. But Imperial Intelligence had its ways of collecting pieces of information that could be used to its advantage.

“Put him through,” Wachter added. “But if it isn’t important, I will have him shot.”

“Admiral,” Smyth said. “Our listening posts just picked up a message from the rebel ships.”

Wachter lifted an eyebrow, then looked at Penny, who shrugged. They’d certainly not picked up any message. But Imperial Intelligence was known for having a few tricks up its sleeves that were rarely shared with others.

“Did you?” Wachter said. “And what did the message say ?”

“It gave a fleet breakdown of the rebel ships,” Smyth said. “But it came directly from the rebel command ship.”

Wachter smiled. Penny understood. The fleet breakdown was likely outdated by now — they’d certainly inflicted a great deal of damage in the battle — but knowing which ship served as the enemy flagship would be very useful. Taking it out would force the rebels to sort out who was in command, which wouldn’t be easy under fire. Even if they had a successor primed and ready to step in, they’d still have to make sure everyone knew that authority had been transferred.

“Pass us the details,” Wachter ordered. He’d cut Imperial Intelligence out of the command network, shortly after taking command of the fleet. In hindsight, that might have been an error. “And thank you.”

Penny smiled as one of the rebel superdreadnaughts blinked yellow, marking it as the command ship. It was utterly indistinguishable from its fellows, but if Imperial Intelligence was correct… maybe, just maybe, the spooks were worth their keep after all.

“Target that ship,” Wachter ordered. “I want it gone.”

Colin forced his mind to think, logically. The false gravity field had to be a trick. He was sure of that, because a real gravity field would have shown up on the sensors long before they tried to flicker out. And the arsenal ships had left without impediment. They couldn’t have done that if they were deep within the gravity shadow. Hell, a destroyer could flicker into planetary orbit… no, it had to be a trick.

Or had the arsenal ships simply left before the field was deployed?

He scowled as the Imperial Navy resumed its bombardment, its missiles roaring into his fleet with deadly intent. Thankfully, he’d managed to redeploy his smaller ships to provide some additional cover, now that the two enemy fleets had merged together, but it was still going to hurt him. There hadn’t been a running battle for centuries, at least until the revolution had begun. Both sides, Colin was sure, were going to take one hell of a beating. But logically the enemy would still be able to flicker out…

“Damn it,” he said out loud, as he realised the truth. Such a simple trick — and so effective when deployed in the heat of battle. Most Imperial Navy officers wouldn’t even have understood what they were seeing. “Contact all ships; remove the safety interlocks from the flicker drives.”

He found himself laughing in bitter admiration. Most Imperial Navy officers didn’t really understand the nuts and bolts of their starships. But Colin, at Frandsen’s suggestion, had spent months studying the inner workings of Shadow , back when he’d been planning the mutiny. The safety interlocks were just… there , unquestioned. And if someone could spoof them into thinking they were in a gravity field, the flicker drive would refuse to activate.

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer said.

Colin thought, rapidly. The safety interlocks were physical; they’d have to be removed manually. And that explained, he realised, why the arsenal ships had been able to leave. They hadn’t been constructed by the Imperial Navy; if the Geeks had left the safety interlocks in place, they were probably different enough to prevent them from being so easily spoofed.

But would they have enough time to remove the locks before they were hammered into scrap metal?

“Sir,” the tactical officer said, “the enemy is locking weapons on us.”

Colin looked up. “Us specifically? This ship?”

“Yes, sir,” the tactical officer said. “They have a solid lock on our hull.”

Colin blanched as he saw a colossal barrage separate itself from the enemy ships, “Move up the point defence ships to cover us,” he ordered. If General Montgomery was being targeted by every enemy ship, survival would become very difficult. “And alert Commodore Grayson. He may have to take command in a hurry.”

“Admiral, the engineers think it will take at least ten minutes to disable all the sensor interlocks,” the communications officer said. “They’re working as fast as they can.”

“Understood,” Colin said. Engineers had a habit of overstating the time it would take to perform repairs, although he’d tried to cure his engineers of that habit. This time, he hoped they were exaggerating. “Warn all hands to brace for impact.”

He settled back into his command chair, thinking hard. How the hell had the enemy identified the command ship? It should have been impossible…

… But they’d done it.

Commodore Jeremy Damiani was feeling oddly constrained as the Shadow Fleet retreated from Morrison. Battlecruisers were designed for fast, slashing attacks on enemy targets, not slogging battles. They didn’t have the armour or shields to stand in the wall of battle. But there was no real alternative. If the fleet scattered, they might make it outside the range of whatever was spoofing the safety interlocks — or they might simply be picked off one by one.

“They’re targeting the flagship,” his tactical officer reported.

“Move us to provide cover,” Jeremy ordered. A battlecruiser could be replaced far quicker than a superdreadnaught, particularly one carrying the fleet commander. Colin was vitally important to the rebels, even if he hadn’t realised it himself. He was not only their commander, but the person who had inspired millions of others to rebel against the Empire. “And deploy additional ECM drones, then fire on the gunboats.”

He silently cursed whoever had come up with that tactic under his breath. The gunboats carried enough sensor gear to see through most of the ECM haze, allowing them to target their missiles with a precision that was normally absent. Besides, with most of them aimed at a single ship, ECM was only of limited effectiveness anyway.

“Incoming missiles,” the tactical officer said. “Point defence engaging… now!”

Jeremy watched, grimly, as enemy missiles started to die. There were some disadvantages to their decision to target a single ship, he noted; the other rebels ships didn’t have to worry about protecting themselves. Colin had improved the point defence network remarkably, but there were still limits. Normally, targeting one ship alone was regarded as poor tactics. But it might well pay off for the enemy.

And a handful of missiles made it through the web of point defence and slammed home.

“The flagship took several hits,” the tactical officer reported. “She lost at least one drive compartment.”

And if she lost the flicker drive, she’s dead , Jeremy thought, grimly.

“Incoming missiles,” the sensor officer snapped. “They’re spreading out their fire again…”