More data kept flowing into the display as they moved closer and closer to Thule. The planet was surrounded by orbital stations, some armed to the teeth. No one had attacked such a heavily defended world for hundreds of years, unless one counted the sneak attack on Corinthian. She couldn't help feeling a hint of tension running through her body as she contemplated testing the tactics the Imperial Navy had devised over hundreds of years, but never used in action. It was quite possible, she knew, that she could die in the coming engagement.
She’d thought herself used to the thought of a violent death. The Imperial Navy was hardly a safe occupation, even in its glory days. Even if there had been no enemy to fight, there were still accidents, dangerous rescue missions ... and the very real threat of being knifed in the back by a senior officer. Hadn't she been exiled to Trafalgar for refusing to open her legs for her commanding officer? But that commanding officer was dead now – she’d issued the kill order personally – and her ambitions had taken her far. Maybe she had suffered a reversal along the way – more than one, really – but she kept climbing her way back up the ladder towards her goal.
Her lips quirked. Empress Rani. It had a ring to it.
Certainly more than the Childe Roland, she thought, wryly. She sometimes wondered what had happened to the teenager who should have taken the throne. Was he dead on Earth or had he escaped, taken by his security officers to a hidden redoubt? She suspected she would probably never know ... not, in the end, that it mattered. If she ever met him again, she would have him executed before he could appeal to any of the loyalists on Wolfbane. For once, she and Governor Brown would be in perfect agreement. Roland would have to die.
She watched the display as dozens of freighters, some clearly interstellar designs, broke loose from Thule and started to flee. Most of them headed up or down, away from the system plane, hoping to reach the Phase Limit before they could be run down by the advancing enemy fleet. Rani had no intention of giving chase, in any case. It would divert her forces from their primary task; securing the planet and its priceless population of trained technicians. She had ambitions for those trained men and women, ambitions she knew Governor Brown shared. They’d be very helpful when it came to building Wolfbane’s industry to a point it rivalled the once-great network surrounding Earth.
And what, she asked herself, happened to Earth’s industry?
The mistakes of the past, she vowed, would not be repeated. Maybe her subordinates – Governor Brown’s subordinates – would build their own power bases, but there would be limits. They would not be allowed to bully their own subordinates, let alone force them into bed, not when it would create resentments that would tear Wolfbane apart. There would be struggles for power – Rani was a strong believer in survival of the fittest – but there would be rules. And the struggles would not be allowed to turn violent. People tended to be less rational when there was a strong possibility that they would end up dead.
She settled back in her command chair and watched the fleeing freighters. They’d be back soon enough, she knew, once the war was over. There would be nowhere else for them to go, not after the Commonwealth and the Trade Federation were destroyed. They’d come back to civilised space and Rani would welcome them back. They wouldn’t even face the crippling taxes and fines the Empire – at the behest of its corporations – had piled on independent shippers. There was no point, Rani had learned the hard way, in killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.
“Launch a second flight of drones,” she ordered. “I want you to keep a close eye on that squadron.”
***
Mandy sat in her command chair and watched doom advancing slowly towards Thule. It wasn't the entire fleet she’d seen at Titlark, but it was large enough to crush her fleet in open battle. The absence of a handful of ships, including two battleships, was actually quite worrying in its own right. Where had they gone?
Plenty of other targets along the border, she thought, as the enemy fleet grew closer and closer. They could be overrunning them all by now.
She watched the display as the drones revealed the full extent of the enemy fleet. Three battleships, each one clearly in excellent working order. Twelve heavy cruisers, nineteen destroyers and four colonist-carriers that probably served as troopships. The calculation of just how many troops the newcomers could land on Thule was not remotely reassuring, not when the enemy would have enough firepower to take and hold the high orbitals. They’d be outnumbered, but they’d have vastly superior firepower.
The enemy were playing it smart, she noted. Instead of trying to chase Mandy all over the star system, they’d selected a target they knew she had to defend – or abandon the system completely. If she stood in defence of Thule, she ran the risk of losing her entire squadron; if she pulled out, she disgraced the Commonwealth and risked denting its reputation as a defender of its member stars. And yet, if she fought a close-range battle, she would almost certainly lose her entire squadron.
Assume they don’t have force shields, she told herself. Could we win the coming battle?
She scowled as she ran through the options in her head. Maybe they could, if they were lucky, but the enemy capital ships could produce gravity shields, if not proper force shields. Her fleet wouldn’t be equal, no matter what she did; the sheer level of ponderous firepower bearing down on her was enough to overwhelm her, force shields or no. The irony – her modern cruisers could probably have danced rings around the older ships – was chilling. All she could do was delay the enemy for a few hours, if that.
And if they’re willing to soak up losses and keep coming, she thought, they will be orbiting Thule within four hours.
She switched the display to monitor the loading. It was difficult, moving troops at such short notice, but the CEF was slowly pulling out of Thule. But it would take far more than four hours to evacuate the entire formation, assuming the locals didn’t object. No matter what she did, Mandy realised, the incoming attack fleet was going to catch at least two-thirds of the CEF on the ground.
If she stood and fought near the planet, she could combine her firepower with the planet’s defences. It was a tempting thought, she knew, but it would also doom her fleet. They’d be unable to run as the invaders bore down on them. And she knew she didn’t dare risk heavy losses.
Silently, she made the decision she knew had been inevitable right from the start.
“We’ll go with Omega-Three,” she said. A couple of her officers looked shocked, but the others understood. They didn't dare risk a close engagement with the enemy fleet. “Alert the crews. We will leave orbit in thirty minutes.”
She stood and walked towards her office. Jasmine needed to be informed ... Mandy felt her heart clench in pain as she realised Jasmine wouldn't leave until all of her people were safely loaded onto the transports. And there was no time to load them all before the enemy reached orbit. No matter what she did, Jasmine – the person who had straightened her out and prepared her for life on Avalon – was doomed. There was no way out.
Perhaps they’ll accept surrenders, she thought, as the hatch hissed closed behind her. But will Jasmine consider surrender?
***
The alarms had started to howl while Daniel had been in the middle of an emergency meeting with his Cabinet. It hadn't been a very productive meeting – not all of them had been prepared to believe that there was an incoming threat that justified pulling back from the Zone – but he disliked it when his meetings were interrupted. His objections had faded away, however, when he’d been escorted back down to the secret bunker, just in time to see red icons appear on the deep space tracking display.
“We have a large fleet of unknown origin heading towards us,” the operator said. “I don’t think they’re friendly.”
“That’s a least-time course from Titlark,” another operator added. “They’re from Wolfbane.”
Daniel sat down and stared at the display, feeling his mouth suddenly become dry. An enemy fleet, a real enemy fleet, was in
his system, advancing towards his planet. Suddenly, bitterly, he regretted the loss of the Empire. They'd all thought the days of interstellar war were in the past.
A thought nagged at his mind. But would we have been allowed to remain autonomous indefinitely?
It was possible, he knew, that the answer to the question was no. The Empire’s Grand Senate hadn't cared for autonomous worlds, let alone independent star systems. Thule might have been wealthy, by the standards of the nearby sectors, but she was quite poor by the standards of the Core Worlds. Daniel’s predecessors had known there was a risk that, one day, a corporation might push the Empire into making a grab for Thule. But even that would have been preferable to outright war.
“I see,” he said, swallowing hard. “Do we have an ETA?”
“Four hours, assuming they maintain their current speed,” the operator said.
“Alert the orbital defences,” Daniel ordered. “The enemy fleet is not to enter orbit.”
He turned to see General Erwin Adalbert striding into the compartment. “General?”
“It doesn't look good,” Adalbert said. “We can only assume the worst.”
Daniel nodded, contemplating his options. Could they force the enemy fleet to stay away from the planet? It didn't seem likely – and even if they did, the enemy ships could simply obliterate the asteroid mining stations, the cloudscoops ... and everything else Thule needed to keep going. Hell, they could just sit outside engagement range and hurl rocks towards the planet’s defences, draining their supplies as they struggled to intercept each and every rock before it hit something vital. Or would they threaten the planet itself?
It was easy, shockingly easy, to depopulate an entire planet. Daniel hadn't known the half of it until his first briefings, after being elected into office. Long-range strikes with asteroids pushed up to a fair percentage of light speed, engineered viruses, radioactive warheads ... there were no shortage of tricks a ruthless enemy could pull. But there had been no planet-killing strike for thousands of years. Even the Nihilists on Earth had never tried to slaughter an entire planet’s population.
But if they did that, he thought, surely the Commonwealth would retaliate in kind?
He sighed. “Have they contacted us at all?”
“No,” Adalbert said. “They haven't even tried to demand our surrender.”
Daniel sat back in his chair and watched, feeling a growing sense of helplessness, as the enemy fleet slowly closed in on the planet. The Commonwealth’s squadron was pulling away from the planet, heading out on a course that would allow it to enter engagement range of the enemy fleet, but somehow Daniel knew it wouldn't be enough. He envied the operators in the bunker, wishing that he had something to do, something that would distract him from the doom advancing towards his world. What would happen to Thule if Wolfbane occupied the planet?
“Picking up a signal,” one of the operator said.
“Put it on the screen,” Adalbert ordered.
A dark-skinned woman materialised on the display, sitting on the bridge of a starship. “This is Admiral Singh, speaking on behalf of the Wolfbane Consortium,” she said. “A state of war exists between the Commonwealth and Wolfbane. You are ordered to surrender your star system to my fleet or face attack. You have five minutes to signal your surrender.”
Daniel frowned. The name was familiar. “Admiral Singh?”
“She used to rule Corinthian,” Adalbert said. “Assuming it’s the same woman, of course.”
Daniel swallowed. “We can't surrender,” he said, finally. “Order the defences to repel attack.”
Adalbert nodded, wordlessly. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll send the orders at once.”
Five minutes passed slowly. The enemy fleet didn't bother to send a second message demanding surrender. Instead, it launched another flight of drones and picked up speed, shortening the time to engagement, Daniel watched, helplessly, as the two fleets converged on one another. Somehow, he was sure it wouldn't be enough.
Another set of alarms sounded. “Intruder alert,” someone snapped. “I say again ...”
The entire bunker shook, violently. Someone had attacked the mansion, Daniel realised in horror, as half of the displays went blank. They’d been cut off from the planetary datanet! The bunker shook again, and again ... and then cracks appeared in the ceiling. Daniel looked up, shocked, as pieces of debris began to fall to the ground. They’d told him the bunker was utterly secure. Had the enemy sneaked a starship into orbit and dropped KEWs or armour-busting warheads? Or ...
“Get out of here,” Adalbert snapped, yanking him to his feet. “Move ...”
There was a thunderous roar as the roof caved in. Daniel had a moment to think about his wife and child ... and then nothing, nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Undeterred, the social scientists tried again. This time, they focused on the issue of shipping guns to the various warring factions and convinced the Grand Senate to order an embargo on weapons shipments. The Grand Senate was bitterly hoplophobic, fearing (quite reasonably) that weapons would end up being pointed at their servants, so this was not a hard sell. Unsurprisingly, this decision also failed to take note of certain local realities.
- Professor Leo Caesius. War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.
Jasmine heard the explosion in the distance and swore out loud. “What was that?”
Michael looked down at his terminal. “Explosion – a major explosion – in the city centre,” he said. There was a long pause. “Brigadier, the First Speaker’s mansion is gone!”
“Shit,” Jasmine said. The enemy had clearly had plans to decapitate the government as soon as it refused to surrender. If the blast had been powerful enough, it might have destroyed the bunker under the mansion ... or had they managed to sneak someone through vetting and trigger the bunker’s self-destruct? It didn't seem likely. “Do we have anything, anything at all, from the First Speaker or the local military?”
“No,” Michael said, after a long moment. “And a chaos virus is infecting their systems.”
And we taught her how to do it, Jasmine thought, bitterly. She’d used similar tactics to break Admiral Singh’s grip on Corinthian. Now, Admiral Singh had returned – and she’d learned from Jasmine’s tactics, using them against her. The Admiral might have superior firepower, but she was playing it carefully, unbalancing her opponents as much as possible before entering engagement range. All hell was about to break loose.
Michael muttered a curse under his breath, then looked embarrassed. “We have reports of shootings, bomb attacks and mortar fire at a dozen local government bases,” he added. “And no one seems to know who is in charge.”
Jasmine gritted her teeth. Thule didn’t stand a chance, not now. Even if they located someone in the chain of command who was still alive, they wouldn't be able to re-establish control until long after Admiral Singh was in orbit. By then, it would be far too late. She glanced up as she heard a handful of explosions in the distance, then looked back at the display. There wasn't much time to act ... if, of course, there was anything they could do.
“Keep funnelling men up to the transports,” she ordered, shortly. “Contact the units near the Zone and order them to make their way back to the spaceport, through Riverside. All heavy equipment is to be abandoned in place.”
Michael blinked. “Brigadier?”
“There’s no time to transport it home,” Jasmine snapped. Losing it would be irritating – it would be costly to replace everything they’d brought to Thule – but she needed the trained manpower more than she needed the equipment. Assuming the Colonel left her in command of the CEF after this. She hated to admit it, yet there was no choice. She'd screwed up rather badly more than once. “Send the orders.”
She stood and strode out of the room, towards the makeshift prison cell. Joe Buckley and two of his Marines stood guard outside the cell, exchanging grim looks. They were all experienced enough to understand ju
st how bad the situation had become.
“Go see to the loading,” Jasmine ordered, shortly. None of her men had practiced loading under pressure. It was possible, alarmingly so, that discipline would break down as the enemy fleet grew closer. “Leave me here.”
Buckley gave her a surprised look. “Jasmine ...”
“Not now,” Jasmine snapped. “I need you to handle the loading.”
She waited until they were gone, then opened the door and stepped inside. Pete Rzeminski was seated on the chair, looking up at her curiously. Jasmine hesitated, then knelt down beside him and met his eyes. He looked ... more curious than afraid.
“Going to leave me with a pistol and a single bullet?” He asked, finally. “Or are you going to execute me yourself?”
“There’s a large fleet bearing down on the planet and the First Speaker is dead,” Jasmine said, shortly. “Or at least we assume he’s dead. There’s nothing left of his mansion, but a big heap of smouldering rubble.”
“You should know the dangers of assuming anything,” Rzeminski said, dryly. “What do you want from me?”
“We’re withdrawing from the planet – or trying to,” Jasmine said. “I’m going to let you go, in exchange for you going underground. When Wolfbane starts abusing the planet’s population, I want you to lead resistance to their occupation.”
Rzeminski smiled. “Don’t you think you’re taking one hell of a chance?”
Jasmine smiled back, coldly. “The alternative is shooting you in the head now,” she said. “I think my career has just hit a roadblock anyway.”
“A large enemy fleet would be one hell of a roadblock,” Rzeminski smiled. “But what will your superiors say?”
“Under the circumstances,” Jasmine sighed, “I may never find out.”
She stood and stared down at him. “I have no more time,” she warned. “Decide now; death or resistance.”
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