Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Right

Each of the Blackshirt transports carried nearly twenty thousand stasis tubes, each one capable of holding a grown adult or perhaps two children in suspension. They would be transported to the Beyond and decanted at one of the Geek-run facilities, once living quarters had been prepared for them. The other transports, the ones rounded up by the Freebooters League, had smaller compartments, but Neil was privately hopeful that they’d be able to lift out over two million workers and their families. It helped that the Blackshirts had done the hard work of rounding up most of their families and transporting them to orbit, saving time. Other families had declined the offer and scattered into the wilderness, hoping to remain undetected. Perhaps they’d make it if the rebellion succeeded, but if not… Neil felt a moment of pity. The Blackshirts would show no mercy if they caught up with the families.

He watched a pair of lovers walk into the compartment, share a final kiss and then climb into the tubes. A flickering curtain of blue light appeared, holding them suspended like flies in amber. They would be released — no time would have passed for them — when they reached their new home, where they would be welcomed and encouraged to work against the Empire. Some of the children were scared, despite everything their parents could say, and medical staff moved in with sedatives. They’d wake up after the transport had reached its destination.

“Quiet down,” he snapped towards a pair of men, who were pushing at others. One of them had been badly scarred by a neural whip, but that didn’t make it acceptable, not when there were women and children ahead of them. Neil knew that cold logic ordained that the trained workers had to go first, yet he’d chosen to ignore those imperatives and ensure that the children were suspended first. He doubted that Admiral Walker would object. “There is room enough for everyone.”

It took several hours to load up the transport, but Neil welcomed it, not least because it didn’t give him any time to brood. By the time the last of the refugees was loaded onboard, the Marines were tired, with their tempers beginning to fray. Neil sent some of them to their bunks, ordering them to get a good long rest before they went back on duty, yet he kept himself awake. There was just too much to do. He led the remaining Marines back onboard the shuttle and detached from the transport, leaving the prize crew to start the task of taking it into the Beyond. Neil was watching as it vanished in a flash of light, flickering away towards the first waypoint.

He yawned, despite himself, as another transport started to move over towards the orbital station. Some of the transports hadn’t come empty. Various rebel groups had been building armies and had insisted on deploying them to Jackson’s Folly, intent on having a go at the Empire’s finest. Neil had told them — as had Admiral Walker — that it was futile, but they had insisted. They’d wanted their own crack at the Empire and, eventually, the rebel leadership had given in.

Neil frowned as the shuttle docked with the new transport, allowing him to take command and supervise the loading. Could it be, he wondered, that Admiral Walker and his allies had decided that some of the rebel groups were expendable? There were certainly hundreds of groups that were effectively worthless, intent on throwing themselves into the Empire’s gaping maw. Had Admiral Walker decided to allow them to seek a glorious death, knowing that they would be killed? It would be unusually cynical for Admiral Walker, but Neil could easily see Hester Hyman or Daria considering such an action necessary.

And if the groups were willing — no, begging — to go face death…

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he strode into the transport. Time was ticking away and no one knew how long it would be before the Empire returned to Jackson’s Folly. They might well have less time than they thought.

Colin paced the command deck as the final set of transports completed loading up. He’d been surprised to discover — although perhaps he shouldn’t have been — that several native-built freighters had been hidden within the system, their drives and anything else that might attract attention powered down. They’d been rapidly reactivated and put to work, allowing him to transport out more people than he’d believed possible. Even so, time was ticking away…

They’d completed transferring supplies down to Jackson’s Folly hours ago, although that had been a fairly simple task. Colin had watched as Java and his various subordinates had taken delivery of the supplies, before fading back into the underground to prepare for the next invasion. If there was a next invasion… in Admiral Percival’s shoes, Colin would have refused to launch another invasion until he received reinforcements from the Empire. It was a shame that the rebels didn’t have any source close to Percival himself. Colin knew what Percival had to deploy against his forces, but what did he intend to do? Gauging intentions was an important part of intelligence work and Colin had no way of knowing what Percival was actually planning to do. Defeat the rebellion, obviously, before it got out of control… but how did he intend to do that?

“Admiral,” the communications officer said. “The transports are signalling that they’re casting off now.”

Colin nodded. The orbital manufacturing complexes orbiting Jackson’s Folly were now without the workforce that made them work. They were still intact — Colin hadn’t even taken the opportunity to upload something nasty into their computers — but without their workforce, a whole new force would have to be trained up before the Empire could make use of them. They had the time… but did they have the patience?

“Good,” he said. He hated to cut and run, leaving the system completely defenceless, but there was no other choice. Besides, if they were really lucky, Percival would be diverting his superdreadnaughts towards Jackson’s Folly, allowing Colin to wreak havoc elsewhere. Only a fool would seek to command an interstellar war as if he could micromanage it, so Colin knew better than to count on it, but it would be useful if the superdreadnaughts were distracted. “Order them to flicker out now.”

The display updated rapidly as the transports flashed and vanished into flicker space, reappearing seven light years away at the first waypoint. There, they would be escorted back to the Beyond, where they would be unloaded, adding new strength to the rebellion. In the meantime… the rebel fleet had other plans, plans Colin had drawn up before the council had insisted on raiding Jackson’s Folly. They had been delayed long enough.

Colin smiled. Hester had — reluctantly — agreed to go back on the transport fleet, removing one worry from Colin’s mind. Hester might be too old to lead the fight in person, but she was an inspiration. The rebellion needed her, perhaps more than it needed Colin. Or perhaps that was just a kind of reverse vanity. It hadn’t been Hester who had captured nine superdreadnaughts and given the Empire its first serious fight in centuries.

“Helm, set coordinates for the reserved waypoint,” he ordered, calmly. Behind him, Jackson’s Folly would wait for the Empire to return, like a woman awaiting her rapist with a hidden knife. The Empire wouldn’t have any difficulty reassuming control over the high orbitals, but the ground would suddenly be much harder, if only because they would have to ship in a whole new army. “Take us out of here.”

His smile darkened as the superdreadnaught flickered out of the system, heading deeper into the Empire, heading towards Greenland. The second major Roosevelt-owned system and the perfect target, at least as far as Colin was concerned, for hitting it would drive the Roosevelt Family to fury. And Percival, the failed Admiral, would lose all hope of promotion.