Colin could imagine. The superdreadnaught might, if it was lucky, survive…if it didn’t have to fight, or run. If one of the main struts broke, it wouldn’t a complete disaster, but two of them would require immediate repair before the ship started to shake itself apart. Colin had been a young Midshipman when the light cruiser Candy had suffered a structural failure and disintegrated while in flight. Her Captain had been lucky not to survive the incident, as his reports, studied by the Board of Inquiry convened after the disaster, had clearly shown that he had been aware of the danger and ignored it.
“We can shore it up for the trip back home” Colin smiled, for the Rim had become home for them now – “and then replace it, but I cannot recommend that we take the ship into battle,” the ship’s Chief Engineer concluded. “Any attempt to go to full military power will be disastrous.”
Colin nodded. “How long will it take to replace the struts once we get home?”
The Chief Engineer considered. “Roughly two weeks, assuming that we have a strut on hand that we can modify and fit into the superdreadnaught,” he said. “If not, then Fabricator will have to manufacture a replacement strut – that might be the better option, as the Rim probably won’t have one that we can modify for a superdreadnaught – “and that will add an extra few days. Call it twenty days in all.”
“I hope you’re not padding your estimate,” Colin said, tiredly. He didn’t know who had started the engineering tradition of overestimating repair times – if only so the engineer could look like a miracle worker – but he had no patience for it at the best of times and definitely none now. Twenty days…it sounded reasonable, yet who knew what Percival could do with that time?
“No, sir,” the Chief Engineer assured him. “We may be able to cut it down to eighteen if we work additional shifts, but I doubt that it will be possible to cut it down any further.”
“Right,” Colin said. He looked up at his Captains, all of whom had known him from before the first mutinies. “There’s no point in hiding from the truth. We lost the battle and we were lucky to be able to extract ourselves without losing a superdreadnaught or two.”
There were no arguments. If they’d been in the Imperial Navy – still in the Imperial Navy – they would have had to come up with elaborate justifications to prove, if only to their superiors, that it hadn’t been a disaster. Colin remembered helping Commodore Percival come up with excuses to explain failure, all of which had been required to avoid giving his many enemies more ammunition to use against him. Now…Colin’s new navy didn’t have a tradition of painting defeats as victories and he had no intention of starting such a trend. It made it impossible to analyse what had actually happened.
“We got jumped,” he continued. “That leads us to two possibilities. First, we were simply unlucky; the Imperial Navy staked out likely targets and we just flew into one of them. Second…we were betrayed and they were there to meet us. I want you all to consider the possibilities and we will discuss countermeasures once we are safely back at base.”
He dismissed them and settled back into the sinfully-comfortable chair. If a single Imperial Intelligence agent had managed to remain undetected, who was he and why hadn’t he tried something more overt? Come to think of it, how had he managed to deduce the target and warn the Empire? Colin had picked Greenland himself and none of his crew had been told until they were underway. The only ones who had known were his Captains, but if one of them intended to betray him, they could have betrayed him back at Jackson’s Folly and the mutiny would never have got off the ground.
And yet…Imperial Intelligence had a reputation for being subtle. Could they have decided to allow the mutiny – and rebellion – to go ahead purely for some reason of their own? Colin considered it for a moment before dismissing the thought as nonsense. No one in their right mind would allow a rebel fleet to run amok in a sector and wreck planets belonging to one of the most powerful Families in the Empire. Unless Imperial Intelligence was secretly working against the Roosevelt Family and…no, that had to be nonsense too. Their position would never survive such operations.
Colin looked down at his hands, scowling. The mind techs were good, with terrifying reputations. It was quite possible that one of his inner circle had a secret personality, one implanted by Imperial Intelligence and programmed to serve as a spy. It was almost impossible to detect such a personality, if only because the victim thought that he was loyal and, if interrogated under truth drugs or lie detectors, would swear to his own loyalty. And yet, that theory fell down too, because the loyalist personality would never have allowed him to launch the mutinies.
The simplest answer was that they’d simply gotten unlucky. The Empire had set a trap and Colin had flown right into it. Even so…he keyed his console and called Anderson, issuing some very specific orders. If there was a spy onboard, witting or unwitting, they would find him before he could do any more harm.
***
Penny had seen Percival in a temper before; indeed, she had suffered at his hands when he’d been in a furious mood. He’d beaten her badly when he’d been told that he didn’t have the level of patronage required to move closer to the Core Worlds – where the possibility for graft and personal enrichment were endless – and again, just after the first mutinies had been reported. Now…he seemed torn between anger and delight, a dizzying combination. The first reports of the Battle of Greenland had just arrived, leaving Percival in the uncomfortable position of having to thank the man he suspected was plotting to unseat him.
Brent-Cochrane was shown into his office, his face alight with a dark smile and darker mischief. Penny felt her heart leap at the brief look he gave her, just for an instant, before he stood to attention and gave Admiral Percival an Academy-perfect salute. The white beret he had perched on his head, an insolent jab at his superior officer, was swept off, followed by an aristocratic bow. The performance did not appear to delight Admiral Percival at all.
But then, Penny knew, it wouldn’t have. If the Battle of Greenland had been truly decisive, it would have been Brent-Cochrane who had won the battle, cleaning up Percival’s mess. He would get all the credit, while Percival would be investigated for his failure to detect and prevent the mutinies before it was too late. Even with Commodore MacDonald on a flight into the Beyond to destroy the rebel base, hopefully leaving Commander Walker without his supplies and logistic backing, Percival might never manage to save his reputation.
“Admiral,” Brent-Cochrane said, every inch the naval hero. “I beg leave to report that we have defeated the rebels in the Greenland System.”
Percival was controlling himself, but Penny – who had seen him at his most vulnerable – could tell that he was on the verge of an explosion. It was tempting to think that Percival would lose control completely and end his own career, yet his instincts for political survival were too strong. Despite herself, she was curious; what would Percival do to get rid of the imprudent junior, her secret ally?
She listened as Brent-Cochrane outlined the victory. It hadn’t been a perfect victory – and it had been costly – but it was an unambiguous victory. Public Information would ensure that the story was told everywhere, mocking the rebels who had dared to believe that they could bring down the Empire. The loss of a superdreadnaught – and another one effectively out of service for some time – was worth it. If the rebels had a shipyard capable of building superdreadnaughts and replacing their losses, the Empire would have been destroyed a long time before Commander Walker had launched his mutiny.
“Good work,” Percival said, finally. He sounded more normal, which meant that he’d thought of a plan. “Once the rebel bases are destroyed, we will be able to put an end to the rebels and their rebellion.”
He glanced over at Derbyshire, who had been listening with a patient smile. “I trust that the plans for Operation Purge are complete?”
Derbyshire nodded. “Yes,” he said, flatly. Operation Purge – the Imperial Navy’s move into the Beyond – was predict
ed on destroying the rebel base, preventing them from mounting a new offensive. The squadrons of lighter craft would be reformed and then dispatched into the Beyond, following a targeting list drawn up by Imperial Intelligence. Every known colony in the Beyond would be destroyed, along with their inhabitants. They wouldn’t even be given a chance to surrender. “Once Commodore MacDonald returns victorious, we can begin.”
Penny noticed the flash of calculation that passed across Brent-Cochrane’s face before it was masked behind his vague smile. “Commodore,” Percival said, “you have done well. However, the loss of a superdreadnaught requires a board of inquiry, one chaired by a Sector Commander. You will report to Admiral Quintana of Sector 99 and he will chair the board of inquiry. You will also report to him on the rebels and the need for reinforcements in this sector.”
Brent-Cochrane’s face was expressionless, but Penny could see the anger smouldering behind his eyes. Percival was right; technically, regulations did require a board of inquiry, particularly when a superdreadnaught was involved. On the other hand, given that Brent-Cochrane had just delivered a real victory, the only victory of the war, Percival could have waived the requirement. It might not stop Brent-Cochrane’s star from rising any higher, but with some luck, it would keep him out of the sector long enough for Percival to win the war.
“Yes, sir,” Brent-Cochrane said, finally. What else could he say? “I shall report to him at once.”
Penny saw Percival’s smile and knew that he thought he had won. Somehow, she was sure that it wouldn’t be so easy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Only two more jumps, Captain,” her XO said. “And then we will be there.”
Captain-Commodore Angelika McDonald smiled at the younger man’s enthusiasm. Officially, flying beyond the Rim – the line marking the edge of the Empire’s territory – was forbidden without special permission, but it didn’t take a tactical genius to realise that enforcing that law was completely impossible. The only legitimate reason to pass beyond the Rim was to survey new planets for settlement, a task normally carried out by the Imperial Survey Service. Someone with as much wanderlust as her XO was probably in the wrong branch of the service.
There was no real difference between the stars on one side of the Rim and the other, but there was a sense of isolation, as if they were completely alone. It was illusionary, yet she could feel it herself. The ship’s doctor had been prescribing additional sleeping draughts and pills for the crew, while the illicit stills operating below decks were churning out additional booze. Angelika knew that some captains would have cracked down hard on the stills, or insisted on taking a cut for themselves, but she didn’t care as long as the crew was sober when they reported for duty. She’d had a drunken crewman publicly lashed to make the point clear, along with busting the crewmen operating the still down to the lowest possible grade and confiscating their funds. It had worked, or at least no crewmember had turned up drunk while on duty.
“Good enough,” she said, studying the display. They’d barely had time to complete their repairs at Camelot, but she’d been determined to get out of the star system before another battlecruiser or even heavy cruiser squadron returned from patrol duties and got given the plum assessment instead. Destroying the rebel base and capturing the rebel leadership would go a long way towards making up for the Jackson’s Folly disaster, at least in the eyes of any competent review board. Her connections would make sure of that, preventing Percival from burying his mistakes under a mountain of paperwork and false accusations. “Keep monitoring the surrounding area. You never know what we might find out here.”
She smiled, ruefully. The ban on travelling beyond the Rim had fuelled all kinds of speculation and stories about what starships encountered when they broke the law and travelled deep beyond the Rim. There were strange stories of mysterious bat-shaped starships; encounters with omnipotent entities…even discoveries of ancient super-technology amid the ruins of a dead civilisation. The Empire officially ridiculed all such claims, but Angelika had heard rumours that Imperial Intelligence had a secret department devoted to investigating them. She’d asked a few of her most trusted contacts and they’d either professed to know nothing about it, or had warned her not to ask any more questions. She’d taken the hint.
Centuries ago, after the First Interstellar War, an alien race had somehow become aware of the advancing Empire…and of how it treated non-humans. Possessing a formidable technological infrastructure of their own, the aliens had built a fleet of starships and fled, not before ensuring that their world held nothing the human race could use to find and locate them. The Runaways, as they had been called by the humans who had finally discovered their homeworld, had not been seen since, although there were always rumours. One of them was that they had set up a base somewhere in the Beyond and were preparing to wage war on humanity. That rumour had served as a justification for all kinds of emergency measures, which had somehow never been repealed.
“Aye, Captain,” her XO said.
“And run through a set of combat drills,” she added. She’d wanted to take Marines with her, but Admiral Percival had flatly refused, citing concerns about their loyalty. Instead, she had Blackshirts who were supposed to have been trained in raiding asteroid settlements. She wasn't too encouraged, although the ones on her ships had been surprisingly civilised. They certainly hadn’t been drugged up like the ones assigned to operations on the ground. “I want to be ready for anything.”
Her XO frowned. “Captain,” he said, reluctantly. “What do we do if we run into the rebel superdreadnaughts again?”
Angelika scowled. “We run,” she said. There was no other answer. “We cannot stand up to superdreadnaughts.”
***
“And so production levels are estimated to continue to rise,” the Geek said, in his strange mechanical voice. Hannelore barely heard him. She was too awed – and horrified – by how the three Geeks had mutilated their own flesh with implanted systems. One of them was little more than a brain in a jar, mounted on top of a vaguely humanoid robot; the others had replaced parts of their flesh with weapons or tools. They clicked and whirred as they spoke. “The new workers are very enthusiastic.”
“Good,” Hester said. Her whispery voice wasn’t much better, a living reminder of the Empire’s brutality. “I trust that Captain Cordova will also be pleased when he awakens…?”
Cordova looked up as Hannelore elbowed him. Unlike Admiral Walker, Cordova made no pretence of enjoying the meeting, although Hannelore was certain that he was listening and mentally recording everything in his mind. He looked half-asleep, his eyelids closed and his elbows on the table. The Geeks didn’t seem concerned about the rudeness – they had no real social graces themselves – but some of the other rebels looked put out. Cordova was, after all, the designated military commander in the absence of Admiral Walker.
“I have no doubt that improving our stockpile of missiles and other weapons systems will be very useful,” Cordova said. He didn’t sound tired, which at least suggested that it had been an act, rather than a serious refusal to pay attention. “I provisionally approve your plans, with a warning that Admiral Walker may have other ideas.”
The Geeks didn’t seem to mind. “We have been studying warship design for centuries,” their leader said. Hannelore had never been able to figure out how they’d chosen their leader, or even how they conducted themselves when away from more normal humans. It was possible, she supposed, that they were real party animals on their own, but she doubted it. They seemed to veer permanently between being loners and seeking the respect and admiration of their fellows. “We can improve upon many of the Empire’s current designs.”
“Any Chief Engineer who actually earned his position could do that,” Cordova said. He seemed fully alert now. “I am reluctant to take untested designs into combat and I suspect that Admiral Walker will feel the same way. A design more complex than the arsenal ships may well have unsuspected flaws.”
; “Simulation is not reality,” the lead Geek said. The other two nodded in unison. The effect was almost hypnotic. “We will test the designs thoroughly before we start mass production. Once mass production had begun, we will be producing new units at a speed considerably greater than the Imperial Navy’s shipyards.”
Hannelore sat up sharply as the Geek’s words echoed in her mind. “The Imperial Navy’s construction process is deliberately inefficient,” the Geeks said, flatly. “Their senior officers accept bribes in order to source components. Workers are taught the minimum they need for their work and nothing else, nor are they encouraged to offer suggestions or thoughts, even ones that might boost profits. Our construction process will not suffer from those problems. With the addition of the supplies from the Annual Fleet, we will be able to expand production quite rapidly.”
One of the rebels Hannelore didn’t know leaned forward. “If that is true,” he said, “couldn’t we just withdraw and wait to build up our attack fleet? How long would it take to put together a fleet that would be a significant challenge to the entire Imperial Navy?”
“Twenty-seven years,” a Geek said.
Hester shook her head. “By then, the Empire will have started its own construction program,” she warned. “They know now that their precautions are…insufficient to prevent us from operating almost at will and they will take corrective measures. How long would it take for us to build up a significant challenge if the Empire is aware of our threat and enters the race?”
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