Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Right

Daniel shared his frustration, but there was nothing he could do, apart from endless drills and repair work. He was proud of his crew, for all that they were fewer in number than he deserved, than he had earned through his years of service to the Empire. Snow White was a tight little ship, even if her previous Captain had insisted on decorating her with images of a dark-haired woman with extraordinarily pale skin. Some of the images were nude, yet still demure, as if the girl was imbued with inner dignity. Daniel had found the images haunting at first, but he had grown to love them over the years. He had no idea what the crew thought about it.

“Hold us here,” he ordered. The two newcomers were heading down towards the planet, exchanging signs and countersigns with the defences. A Marine assault shuttle was already flying towards them, intent on searching the ships before they were allowed to come any closer. “I think it’s time for a drill.”

Without further delay, he hit a pre-programmed set of commands and the alert sirens began to blare through the hull.

“And so all of the repairs have been completed,” Flag Captain Jeremy Damiani said. His statement was echoed by the other Captains, whose ghostly images floated in the middle of Colin’s stateroom like spectres at a feast. The Imperial Navy might insist on all such discussions being done in person, but Colin saw no reason to maintain an outdated tradition. Besides, he suspected that it was done so that the various commanders could show off their cooks and the Popular Front had no time for such nonsense. “We are fully combat-capable and raring to go.”

Colin smiled, knowing that Percival — assuming that he had an accurate report on the Battle of Jackson’s Folly — would be astonished and horrified to discover how quickly his ships had been repaired. Thanks to Daria — and, to a lesser extent Hester — he had tapped into a rich vein of talent in the Beyond, engineers and repair crews who actually knew what they were doing. The Imperial Navy might prefer not to educate its crews too much, but the Beyond had no time for such luxuries and Colin hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of it. The superdreadnaughts had swapped out all the damaged components and replaced them within days.

“Excellent,” he said. He glanced up at the commanding officer of the General Grant , which had been the main target during the Battle of Jackson’s Folly. “Are you sure that your ship is in fighting trim?”

“I am certain of it, sir,” the young commander said. Like Colin, he’d been an XO on the Observation Squadron before the mutiny and an enthusiastic participant from Day One. It was ironic, but if there was one thing that the Empire and the Popular Front had in coming, it was that neither of them would willingly give a superdreadnaught to a man they didn’t trust. Colin had decided, not without regret, to move the superdreadnaught officers elsewhere, just in case. “We had to go EVA to swap out some of the armour plates, but we’re back in order now and” — he grinned at Damiani — “raring to go.”

Colin smiled. “Excellent,” he said, again. The recon missions had already been dispatched to Greenland, although he had been reluctant to use the same tactic more often than necessary. By now, the Imperial Navy would know to look for a freighter that appeared to have been abandoned by its crew. Or perhaps they would be paranoid about everything that entered their system, with very good reason. The reports from his agents at Camelot had reported that Admiral Percival had started updating the IFF signals again, this time making it impossible for a ship to enter the inner system without being searched. “If there are no other concerns…”

He waited, but no one spoke. “This may be our most challenging encounter yet,” he added. The preliminary recon missions had suggested that there was nothing unexpected within the system, yet two armoured fortresses in orbit and thousands of automated platforms were nothing to laugh at, particularly when they couldn’t sneak up on the bastards and blow them away before they could react. “Once we get the recon data back from the gunboats, we jump in hard and fast, concentrating on wrecking as much of the Roosevelt Family’s investment as possible, before we vanish again.”

Colin smiled ruefully at the thought. Standard Imperial Navy doctrine held that superdreadnaughts were only to be used for decisive attacks — and, of course, for intimidating anyone who might be questioning their loyalty to the Empire. The idea of using them for hit and run raids would have horrified his instructors, but Colin had discovered that the tactic worked very well. Certainly, battlecruisers had their advantages when it came to raiding — they could outgun anything that could actually catch them — yet there was something to be said for using ships so powerful that very little else could stand up to them… and besides, it wasn’t as if the planets could run away. No one had yet succeeded in building a flicker drive powerful enough to transport a whole planet somewhere else.

“There’s no point in pushing to actually take the planet,” he concluded. He’d thought as much, but he’d resolved to remain flexible until he saw what they were actually facing. “We get in, wreak havoc and get out again. No heroics.”

He smiled at their expressions and then made a show of checking his watch. “You have your orders,” he said. “Good luck to us all.”

Colin sat back as the holograms vanished, one by one. The Empire’s standard etiquette was that sending a hologram was rude, unless the sender was bedridden or otherwise unable to attend. Personally, Colin had never understood it… but then, he had never really understood the point of many traditions. Percival, who had been a past master of political backstabbing, had once commented — in a moment of candour — that failing to maintain what society regarded as good manners was often seen as a sign of weakness. Among the Thousand Families, showing weakness was very likely to lead to disaster. Even so, Colin saw no reason to maintain the tradition and had no intention of allowing his fleet to adopt it.

“No heroics,” Anderson said, from where he had been sitting on the other side of the cabin. “Do you think that that is going to make them cautious?”

Colin shrugged. There were some wilder souls in the rebellion who deserved their own independent commands, where they could indulge their taste for fighting without risking the overall plan. Once the newer starships started coming out of the shipyards the Geeks were constructing, he would be able to start assigning more officers to command slots, while ensuring that the superdreadnaughts remained firmly in the hands of his loyalists.

“I see no reason to risk ourselves here,” he said, finally. “It isn’t as if we can take the world… and it isn’t as if we’d be allowed to keep it, even if we did take the world.”

He changed the subject before Anderson could return to the issue. “Did you learn anything from the secret files?”

“Nothing,” Anderson admitted. “There was a great deal of data — some of which we can use for blackmail, or simply release it into the public sphere to cause confusion — but nothing relating to any long-term Roosevelt-led plans for this sector. I suspect that if Commodore Roosevelt knows anything about them — and I don’t think she does — the details would be locked up in her pretty head. You should have let me brain-suck her.”

Colin shook his head in disgust, although, if the truth were told, he wasn’t sure what he was disgusted at ! Stacy’s secret files had included a great deal of blackmail material, including at least one Admiral and several civilian contractors who were into the most disgusting perversions, even by the standards of the Empire. No amount of protection, influence or wealth would save them if the information got out, which might have helped explain why Stacy had been allowed to maintain her command. Colin found himself caught between two possibilities; he could expose them, or blackmail them. His practical side suggested that blackmail would help the rebellion, but his vindictive streak suggested that releasing the information would ensure that the perpetrators got what they deserved. It had, quite simply, never occurred to him that anyone would be — could be — a greater pervert than Percival.