Christopher Nuttall: Democracy's Right

As Colin had expected, Officer Country was deserted, allowing him to make his way to the Captain’s quarters without hesitation. The Marine who would normally have been on guard had been called away for other duties, leaving the Captain defenceless — unless, Colin reminded himself, Howell had stocked up on weapons and ammunition within his cabin. A Captain had effectively boundless authority while a starship was on active service and Howell could have drawn weapons from the armoury if he had felt the need. The normal restrictions on the use of firearms didn’t apply to the Captain.

Colin pressed his fingers against the sensor, at the same time tapping a certain command into his wristcom. The Captain’s quarters were now completely isolated from the datanet. The security sensors on the starship couldn’t track the use of chemically-powered weapons — a serious flaw in their coverage Colin had taken care never to point out — but there was no point in taking chances. He swallowed as the hatch swung open, allowing him to enter the Captain’s cabin.

He’d thought that his own quarters were palatial, vastly more than he needed, but Howell seemed to have an entire section for his own use. The Captain had a living room, a pair of bathrooms with real baths — crewmen had to make do with showers — and no less than three bedrooms. It wasn’t unknown for Captains to bring their latest lovers onboard and install them in their cabins, something that was technically against regulations, but was winked at by the Imperial Navy. Colin was privately disgusted by the whole concept, although part of him wondered if his disgust had more to do with envy than he was prepared to admit. The ship’s XO could bestow considerable patronage, if only on the ship itself, yet he had sworn never to abuse his authority like that. It would have made him far too much like Admiral Percival.

The thought spurred him into action and he started to look for the Captain, but Howell was nowhere to be seen. His massive living room, decorated with expensive wooden artefacts and odd paintings of women in compromising positions, was empty. Colin felt sweat trickling down his back, wondering if Howell had somehow realised what was happening and had chosen to escape his quarters and hide somewhere on the starship. He’d secured the datanet, but the Captain possessed command codes that would allow him to access and control any system from any terminal. If Howell had escape, the entire plot might be within seconds of unravelling.

“In here, Commander,” Howell called. “I’m just meditating.”

Colin had never entered Howell’s sleeping quarters before, so he took a moment to look around as he entered the bedroom. There was a single massive bed, large enough for three people, covered in silken sheets. Howell had decorated the bedroom in more subdued colours than the living room, thankfully, although there were still several tasteless artefacts scattered around. Colin’s attention was held, briefly, by a golden starship model, before he located Howell. The Commodore was sitting at his terminal, studying his private files on Jackson’s Folly. Colin smiled inwardly. The files had been provided by Anderson and Colin had taken pains to ensure that many details that should have been alarming — like the fact that Jackson’s Folly was distributing heavy weapons to its civilian population in preparation for an underground war against the Empire — were omitted. Colin wondered briefly if Commodore Roosevelt intended Howell to prepare a plan of operations on the surface — it seemed unlikely, but stranger things had happened — before pushing the issue aside. It didn’t matter any longer.

“Ah, Commander,” Howell said. He sounded mildly annoyed. “The main datanet isn’t working properly. I had to use my own command codes to access data from the open sections of the datanet.”

Colin studied him for a long moment. Howell was everything he detested in the Empire, an incompetent man placed in a position of power, placed there by powerful patrons over far more deserving candidates. He would whore for his position, feeding Jackson’s Folly and the billions of humans who lived on the planet and its daughter worlds into the fire, just to keep his position and all the privileges that went with it. The Captain-Commodore had no sense of honour, or even of service to a higher ideal; he existed only to maintain the Empire, put in his place because he was a safe pair of hands. Cold hatred flared through his mind and he drew his pistol. Howell’s eyes had only a moment to widen in alarm before Colin shot him through the head.

He had practiced with the firearm when he’d obtained it, using the Marine firing range to practice until he knew what he was doing. Even so, the noise sounded inhumanly loud in the confined space — and the blood flowing from Howell’s body was definitely new. It was the first time Colin had killed someone personally — rather than serving as a tactical officer on the bridge of a starship — and it shook him more than he had expected. It took him several seconds to gather himself and catch Howell’s right hand, pulling off the golden ring that marked his command of a starship. The ring wasn’t just a mark of command; it allowed him to access the ship’s computers and take control of any part of the datanet. Colin tensed as he pulled it onto his own finger, wondering if there had been a mistake in the intelligence. The ring should have registered Howell’s death and him as his legitimate successor, but if something had gone wrong…

The ring felt oddly heavy on his finger and he studied it thoughtfully. It was chunky, decorated with the star-and-spaceship of the Imperial Navy, glittering on his finger. Carefully, he pressed it against Howell’s terminal, praying that it worked. There was a click and Howell’s secret files unlocked at his touch. It had worked! Colin skimmed them quickly, marking several down for later study, before standing up and heading back to the bridge. The starship’s computers had acknowledged his command authority, which meant — in theory, at least — they should have no other problems. In practice, Colin knew, they had barely begun.

“Captain,” Finnegan said, when Colin entered the bridge. Somehow, hearing the title in someone else’s mouth made it real. “The datanet is back up on all ships, apart from Daffodil . The Captain was able to destroy his command ring and lock the computers before he could be stopped.”

Colin smiled as he took the command chair — his command chair. One ship with locked computers wasn’t so much of a problem. Given time, the command codes could be removed from the network and the computers restarted. It wouldn’t even be difficult. He checked the brief updates from the other ships quickly and smiled. They were all in his hands and firmly locked down. The datanets had been secured, rendering a second mutiny — a counter-mutiny — impossible.

“My friends,” he said, keying the private communications channel. “The ships are ours!”

“We have seventy agents in all,” Anderson said, as they stood together above the main shuttlebay. “They were all captured before they could cause any damage.”

Colin nodded in relief. Anderson — in his position as the starship’s security officer — had located most of the agents onboard, but Howell’s files had included a list of agents who reported only to Imperial Intelligence, their names unknown even to their nominal supervisor. It was quite possible, he had to keep reminding himself, that there might be a third group of agents, ones who were unknown even to the squadron’s commander. Imperial Intelligence wasn’t known for doing things by halves.

The agents had been quickly rounded up once the ships had been secured, whereupon they’d been transferred to one of the shuttlebays and secured there. The Marines had turned the compartments into holding areas, allowing the prisoners to take care of themselves, but leaving them unable to escape. Just in case, the automated systems that controlled the shuttlebay had been deactivated, rendering it impossible for even the Captain’s command codes to release the prisoners. Colin was fairly certain that none of the agents had any command codes they could use to hack into the main system, but it was well to be careful.