Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Right

“Put a general signal through the asteroid,” he ordered, trying to deduce what the enemy intended to do. If he was facing fellow Marines, they would try to land on the rocky surface and burn through into the inhabitable sections of the asteroid, denying him any warning of where they intended to land. But if the reports were true, if the remaining Marines in the Sector had been removed from duty, they were facing Blackshirts instead. Where would Blackshirts choose to land? “I want my Marines and trainees to assemble, in full combat armour, in Section 45-66-K.”

He leaned back, suddenly feeling a great deal more certain. The Blackshirts weren’t trained for raiding asteroids. The chances were good that they would try to come in through the spaceport facility, an isolated section towards the front of the asteroid. They wouldn’t have any difficulty in locating it either, not with the crews of nearly thirty starships struggling to power them up and escape before the Imperial Navy got there and opened fire. They didn’t know it — or didn’t want to believe it — but they had already lost. The battlecruisers were well within missile range.

“Women and children are to go to the core of the asteroid and remain there,” he added. “They are to wear their suits and prepare for explosive decompression. Armed men are to assemble in the inner circle and prepare to defend the women and children against the incoming threat.”

“There are a lot of arguments, sir,” one of the operators said. He was casting nervous glances at the unconscious figure on the deck, wondering if he was going to be the next one hit and knocked out. “They want to get into the front lines and start fighting the enemy.”

“Tell them that they will get their chance,” Neil said, impatiently. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he considered the possibilities. What did the Imperial Navy want? If they had wanted to destroy Sanctuary, they could have done it by now and nothing the rebels had could have stopped them. No, they had to want to take the leadership alive, as well as everyone else they could catch. Locked up inside their brains, waiting for the mind techs to come along and investigate, were the names and coordinates of most of the other rebel bases. “I’m sure that they will get their chance.”

He looked up as the hatch opened and Hester entered, followed by two of her bodyguards. “Get that piece of shit out of here,” she said, pointing one finger at the sleeping operator. The bodyguards nodded and obeyed. “How does it look, Major?”

Neil blinked in surprise. Hester was wearing a suit of body armour and carrying a helmet in one hand. It wasn’t cheap equipment either. It might not have been quite up to the standards of Marine combat armour, but it would be more than sufficient against most threats. A sniper could probably have taken off her head before she put the helmet on, yet… somehow, he was sure that no sniper would ever get so close to her. Her bodyguards didn’t look incompetent.

“It looks good,” he said, reluctantly. He had always hated giving briefings to political leaders, yet Hester was something special. “We should be able to stall them long enough for Admiral Walker to get back.”

Hester nodded, her eyes elsewhere. “And if we can’t?”

“We die,” Neil said, flatly. If the Empire was prepared to expend enough troops, they could take the asteroid, even if the rebels retreated into the inner core and fought hard to hold on to the core regions. Sanctuary didn’t even have a united datanet or shared infrastructure. Given time, and sufficient imagination, the Empire could make life very uncomfortable… and that was if they didn’t decide to cut their losses and blow up the asteroid. “There are no other alternatives.”

Hester nodded, hefting her rifle. “I understand,” she said. “It’s time to fight or die.”

The asteroid shuddered suddenly. “They’re opening fire with penetrator missiles,” one of the techs said. “They’re knocking out our weapons, one by one.”

“As I expected,” Neil said. He felt the old thrill rising up within him, even though he knew that they were all going to die soon. Unless Admiral Walker got back; no, even if he did, the Empire would still be able to blow up the asteroid and run. “And then will come the assault.”

Angelika watched dispassionately as the last of the rebel weapons platforms were blown into vapour, clearing the way for her assault troops. She had wondered if the rebels would blow up their asteroid or dare her to hit them with heavier weapons, but the assault plan was going perfectly. Without their weapons, there would be nothing to stop her troops from landing on the asteroid.

“All ships, this is the Commodore,” she said. “Dispatch the landing force!”

“You are clear to launch,” the voice said in his earpiece. It was a sultry female voice, promising much to the heroes when they returned — if they returned. “Good luck.”

Captain Thomas Wilson took a breath as the launch tubes opened and the assault pods were blasted out towards the asteroid, accompanied by a hail of decoys and sensor jammers intended to prevent any surviving rebel weaponry from locking onto them and blowing them into the next world, even though the squadron claimed to have destroyed all such weapons. Thomas had enough experience with such claims to know that they were often over-optimistic and, as the commander of the assault, he wasn’t going to take any chances with his men and their lives.

He could hear the beating of his own heart and feel the sweat on the palm of his hands as the pods fell towards the asteroid. It grew in his vision, changing from just another rock to something that dominated the entire horizon. At some point, up twisted and became down and he started to fall towards the rocky ground, cursing as enemy weapons started to light up, their plasma bursts picking off a handful of pods. The starship crews hadn’t got them all! The tiny automated missiles escorting them dived forwards and attempted to destroy the weapons, but not before seven of his men and ten decoys were picked off and killed. An eighth man was so badly injured that his suit had to put him into suspension and scream for immediate recovery.

Thomas braced himself as the pod touched down and split open, allowing him to step out onto the surface of Sanctuary. They had landed below the massive crater that seemed to serve as a rebel spaceport, yet as his teams formed up it became evident that the rebels had taken the precaution of hiding additional defences in the ground. The Blackshirts picked them off, advancing towards the lip of the crater and over it, staring down into the spaceport. The gravity was doing odd things as they passed through varying gravity fields — the rebels, instead of spinning the asteroid to produce gravity, had chosen to install a gravity generator instead — and he cursed under his breath. He had trained his men hard, rather than trusted to the drugs and indoctrination most Blackshirt units used, yet they hadn’t been trained to work in such an environment. It was a tribute to their training — and their superior officers, who had wanted a dedicated unit for operating in space — that they were doing as well as they were.

The rebels had divided the spaceport into two sections. One, dominated by starships clinging like limpets to the asteroid, was visible to his eyes. The other, with starships passing through a massive hatch to rest inside the asteroid, was clearly closed off. The hatch would require high explosives to blast it open, yet there was an easier way into the asteroid. He led his platoon towards the first freighter, ordering the other teams to spread out and target the other ships. Not entirely to his surprise, the first freighter rose up into space as his team approached, spinning around and preparing to flicker out. The missile that slammed into the ship and blew it cart-wheeling away from the asteroid, launched by one of the battlecruisers, cast an eerie light over the scene. Thomas allowed himself a moment of relief. If the freighter had attempted to engage his team, the results would not have been pleasant.