Democracy's Right: Book 02 - Democracy's Might

by Christopher Nuttall

  ***

  The spy had plenty of practice at playing her role. As a trained starship engineer, she was simply too important to be discarded for a mere suspicion, something Imperial Intelligence had relied upon when they’d primed her for her role. The Rim had a shortage of trained personnel, ensuring that any newcomer with the right skills was warmly welcomed. It helped that her files – which Imperial Intelligence had carefully inserted into the right networks – contained a sob story about rape, sexual abuse and other matters that would encourage someone to make a run for freedom.

  But she could barely contain her astonishment as her shuttle approached the giant superdreadnaught. There were hundreds of thousands – perhaps millions – of volunteers joining the rebellion. The Rim had sent thousands of workers, but so too had Jackson’s Folly and hundreds of other worlds that had been enslaved by the Empire and then liberated by the rebels. She couldn't believe the sheer scale of the activity taking place in orbit. If she hadn't been conditioned to be completely loyal, she might have considered joining the rebels herself.

  A dull mummer of excitement ran through the shuttle as it landed in the shuttlebay. The spy stood and joined the eager throng as they made their way out the hatch and down onto the deck, where they were met by a handful of grim-faced engineering officers. They’d all be tested, of course; there were so many people who wanted to join the rebel fleet that some of them had probably lied about their qualifications. The spy had no worries on that score. Even without her files, she had enough experience maintaining starships that she could be an engineering crewwoman without arousing suspicion. And, once her cover was secure, she could start laying her plans.

  “Follow me,” one of the crewmen said. “And don’t wander off.”

  The spy concealed her amusement as he led them through a long corridor and down into the engineering compartment. Her companions seemed awed by the sheer size of the superdreadnaught. But in space, there was no real reason why someone couldn't build a starship the size of a small moon, if they were prepared to waste the resources. It was planet-side industry that suffered from odd limitations.

  As she had anticipated, the test was simple, absurdly simple. A quarter of her comrades still failed, however, and were marched back to the shuttlebay. The remainder were escorted to cabins and told to settle in. There was some grumbling – the general expectation had been that they would get to grips with the Empire at once – but the spy was not surprised. Hurry up and wait was an old military saying.

  She smiled, inwardly, as she lay on her bunk. This time, she told herself, it would be different. The rebels would not get lucky again.

  Chapter Seven

  It was four days before the underground made contact, four days of ration bars, tedious conversation and moments of fear when security forces seemed to be pounding through the corridors. Adeeba liked Frandsen, but after several months cooped up together in a tiny starship they had little left to talk about, even if they hadn't known they were under surveillance. She spent her time reading the datapad, wishing that they'd been able to bring something less bland than government-approved files. But almost anything else would have raised eyebrows.

  When the door finally opened, it was almost a relief. Three young men stepped inside, all with the look of guarded suspicion worn by almost everyone born on Earth. Adeeba shivered, remembering her own childhood, as the men motioned for them to pick up their bags and follow them out of the door. Outside, the corridors seemed packed with men and women, all wearing the same drab overalls. They also wore metallic bracelets that glittered ominously in the light.

  “Take these,” their escort muttered. Adeeba glanced down at the bracelet, then put it on her wrist. It clicked into place, seemingly as immovable as a handcuff. “Then remove them as you pass through the security gate.”

  There were thousands of workers making their escape, Adeeba saw, as they reached the checkpoint. The guards looked bored, uninterested, as the bracelets were scanned, then removed and dropped in the bucket. They would be recycled the following morning, Adeeba recalled, remembering how the system worked. No one could enter or leave the complex without being noted and logged by the system. She couldn't help wondering how the underground intended to ensure that they were listed as having logged in instead of just seeming to appear from nowhere inside the complex.

  But no alarms sounded as the bracelet was scanned, then unlocked. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she’d been holding, dropped the bracelet in the bucket and then followed their escort out into the city. Earth smelled worse out here, she decided, the stench bringing back old memories. The thousands of civilian workers seemed unaware of the smell as they headed back to their homes, leaving their work behind for the day. Adeeba and Frandsen were simply lost in the crowd, two out of millions of civilians. Their escorts guided them down a long passageway and into an underpass that seemed to lead into darkness. The dank smell of human urine reached her nostrils as they stopped outside an access hatch, then stepped into a narrow passageway that seemed to be lined with electronic boxes. She jumped the first time the walls shook, then realised where they were. They were walking alongside the underground transport tube network.

  They stopped outside another hatch, which opened after their escort tapped out a pattern, revealing a small dimly-lit office. Inside, two men and a woman were seated at a table, pretending to read pornographic magazines. Adeeba didn't miss how their eyes weren't actually following the images, but keeping an eye on the newcomers. Behind them, the hatch slammed closed. If this was a trap, she knew, they were thoroughly caught.

  “You may call me Gaunt,” the woman said, putting her magazine down. It looked surprisingly tame, compared to some of the material Adeeba had seen in the Imperial Navy. “For the moment, you will deal with me – and only with me. If you have a problem with this, too bad. We don’t dare risk being betrayed.”

  “We understand,” Adeeba assured her. The Empire had no shortage of ways to get information out of unwilling donors. No matter how determined someone was to refrain from talking, they could be made to talk. “We have taken similar precautions ourselves.”

  “I do hope so,” Gaunt said. She stepped forward, into the light. “As you can see, we know the consequences of being betrayed.”

  Adeeba studied her for a long moment. Gaunt was tall, bald and had a very nasty scar on her face. One of her eyes was covered with an eye patch, suggesting that it had been removed at some point; the other flickered around madly, watching for threats. This was not a woman to underestimate, Adeeba realised. If she had suffered so much and kept going, she would be willing to do whatever it took to get revenge. And she probably considered she had little to lose, if the shit hit the fan.

  “So,” Gaunt said, coming to a halt right in front of Adeeba. “Tell me why we should listen to you?”

  Adeeba sighed and started to tell the entire story, once again.

  “We have sources in the High City,” Gaunt said, when she had finished. “We can confirm most of what you’ve told us.”

  Adeeba wasn't too surprised. Admiral Percival had worked hard to keep news from leaking outside Sector 117 – he'd known he would get the blame for the whole incident, if he failed to stop the rebels before the news got out – but the fall of Camelot had definitely broken the media blockade. Earth might well have received bits and pieces before the first complete report actually arrived. But had they taken the isolated fragments seriously?

  “We can also confirm that the Imperial Navy has dispatched a task force to Morrison,” Gaunt added, coldly. “If you wished to delay its departure, you have failed.”

  “That wasn't all we had in mind,” Adeeba said. She explained, briefly, what she’d told the Big Man. “We would like to coordinate your efforts with ours. This is the one chance we will have to bring down the Empire. If you can make it easier to take down Earth itself ...”

  “My superiors might question the wisdom of involving ourselves,” Gaunt said. “We would cert
ainly require more proof of your good faith – and your willingness to keep promises.”

  Adeeba kept her face expressionless, but she knew she’d found at least one ally. There was an odd ... carelessness about Gaunt that suggested she would be happy with the thought of action, even if it carried immense risks. She hadn't had them strip-searched and scanned thoroughly as soon as they entered the meeting place, after all. Either that, Adeeba decided, or she was sure she could escape the security forces, if they were shadowing her visitors.

  “Rebel starships will start operating within this sector soon,” Adeeba said, hoping that Colin hadn't had reason to change the plans. They’d both known that operational requirements might force him to hold back. “For the moment, all we really ask from you is intelligence – and that you prepare an uprising in conjunction with our invasion of the system.”

  “If it happens,” Gaunt observed. “Your forces are an awful long way away.”

  “I’m here,” Adeeba said. “The others are on their way.”

  Frandsen leaned forward. “I understand a reluctance to show yourselves,” he said. “But this is likely to be the best chance you have to actually win. Your superiors should also understand that if they don’t take part, they will have little say in how the post-Empire universe develops. I suggest you make that clear to them.”

  Gaunt studied him for a long cold moment, then nodded. “I assume you have a pipeline set up to get intelligence out of the system?”

  “Yes,” Adeeba said, shortly. If all went to plan, the pipeline should lead to the raiding fleet when it finally arrived. But the plan itself was imprecise. There were just too many factors that might delay matters, too many things that might go wrong. “If worst comes to worst, we can send a ship all the way to Jackson’s Folly.”

  “Then we will discuss matters and get back to you,” Gaunt said. “You will be escorted to one of the chambers we use to hide people from the Blackshirts. I suggest that you stay there until we come for you. The lower levels are not as closely observed as the higher levels, but you might still be noticed. If we choose to work with you, we will teach you how to get around Earth undetected.”

  “Understood,” Adeeba said, shortly. There was no point in arguing. She might have been born on Earth, but she knew little about getting around without being observed. And Earth was the most heavily-wired planet in the galaxy. “Can we get some reading material this time?”

  Gaunt laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. “Maybe you would like the statements issued by Public Information on their special paper,” she said. “It’s ideal for wiping your ass.”

  ***

  “That’s the latest report from Luna Base,” Sharon said. “And Lady Gwendolyn has requested to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

  Tiberius sighed. There was really far too many reports for him to read, as Family Head, but he didn't dare pass too many of them down to his subordinates. His uncles and cousins would be delighted to take the responsibility from his hands, knowing that it would give them control over part of the family's interests – and eventually enough leverage to render him a figurehead. He didn't dare allow that to happen, not when the family's very survival was at risk.

  “Tell her I’ll see her in an hour,” Tiberius said, wearily. He didn't know how his father and grandfather had managed to keep an iron grip on the family's affairs. But then, they’d been old enough to know where all the bodies were buried, sometimes literally. “Do you have a report from the security office?”

  “Nothing since the last report,” Sharon said. “Do you want me to request a progress report?”

  Tiberius shook his head. It would make him feel like he was doing something, but it wouldn't really be helpful. The security officers would fall over themselves to give him a progress report, instead of doing something actually useful. It had taken him several months to realise that micromanaging his handful of trusted subordinates was pointless at best, dangerous at worst. Some of his fellows had never understood it.

  “No, thank you,” he said. “But if you could tell Marie to attend me after Gwen, I would be very grateful.”

  Sharon bobbled a curtsey to him and withdrew, leaving him to read through the report from Luna Base. As Wachter had warned, in his last message before the fleet had flickered out, corruption had actually worn down Home Fleet’s ability to fight. Indeed, the report suggested, if the rebels had set out for Earth just after the Battle of Camelot, they might well have won. Home Fleet was in no condition for a fight. Wachter had added a strong suggestion that they appoint another CO, one who had the ability to kick ass and take names, then sort out the mess. He hadn't realised that the political struggle over appointing a commander at Morrison would pall compared to the struggle over Home Fleet’s CO.

  The Empress used Home Fleet against us, despite all of our precautions, Tiberius thought. He was unique among the Family Heads, simply because he hadn't been born when the Empress had seized power for herself, only to lose it scant months later. No one knew what had happened to her, merely that she’d vanished when the patronage networks had united against a common foe. We have good reason to fear handing someone else the same power.

  But Wachter was right too. The Empire had been safe. There was no alien power capable of threatening the Empire, while the various underground movements couldn't do more than harass the Empire’s forces. The occasional mutiny or rogue starship couldn't do any real damage either, even united with the exiles along the Rim. Everyone had known there was no reason for Home Fleet to be in top condition.

  And now there was a genuine threat, political games would make it harder to assemble a defence force.

  He scowled. The Empire was sluggish, slow to realise that there was a threat and slow to react, taking comfort in its overwhelming firepower to make up for any delay in its response. But now there was a threat with enough firepower not to be intimidated by superdreadnaughts – and the determination to take advantage of delays in the Empire’s response.

  We can supervise Home Fleet, he thought, grimly. We couldn't do that for Morrison.

  He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear Sharon calling him until she repeated herself, telling him that Gwendolyn was waiting to see him. Tiberius sighed, then invited Gwendolyn to enter the room. This time, she was wearing a long white gown that set her blonde hair off nicely, hinting at her attributes rather than revealing them. Tiberius wondered, absently, who she was planning to seduce ... or if she was simply trying to look the part of an Ambassador. After all, she would have to impress the rebels ...

  “I reviewed the files,” Gwendolyn said, taking a seat without being invited. “The rebels will want quite a bit from us, won’t they?”

  Tiberius scowled. Ideally, he would like to see everything return to the status quo, but he knew better than to expect it. Even if they beat this rebellion, the example the rebels had set would inspire others. There were still reports of mutinies coming in from the other side of the Empire.

  “I imagine they will,” he said. “But it depends on the military situation.”

  The Thousand Families had started life as corporate power blocs, back in the days of the First Emperor and the Great Interstellar War. They'd built the massive industrial machine that had propelled humanity to victory and they had had no intention of forgoing the rewards of their efforts. The First Emperor had merely been the one to step forward and try to seize supreme power for himself. His former comrades had turned on him, fearing the consequences of concentrating so much power in one man’s hands. But, a thousand years later, power was concentrated in a handful of hands. It wasn't much of an improvement, Tiberius realised.

  “If we are in a position where we can offer the rebels our services, we will give up political power in exchange for retaining our economic power,” he said. It would be a tricky balancing act. They would have to switch sides when they still had something to offer the rebels, but after the other families had lost the ability to lash
out and punish the deserters. “If not, we will seek to gain control of their tech advances in exchange for light treatment.”

  Gwendolyn gave him a sugary-sweet smile. “And what would the other families make of your planning?”

  Tiberius smiled back. “You intend to betray your family?”

  His smile grew wider at her expression. She could reveal some of his contingency plans to the other Family Heads, but no one would ever trust her again. The family came first, always. It was hammered into their heads as soon as they grew old enough to learn. And if Gwendolyn betrayed the family openly, she would be lucky to survive long enough to regret it.

  “I merely point out the possibility of a leak,” Gwendolyn said, stiffly.

  “I merely point out that you are the only person who knows the plan,” Tiberius said, mockingly. There was no point in trying to be polite with someone who would merely see it as a sign of weakness. “You will not share it with anyone, even Pompey. You will keep it in mind until the time comes to use it.”

  He leaned backwards, studying her. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight,” Gwendolyn said. “We’re not going to be taking a known ship – or a crew. Pompey has already secured a yacht that can be handled by one person. He thinks we shouldn't have any problems reaching Camelot – or Jackson’s Folly.”

  Tiberius concealed his amusement. Two people, alone on a ship for six months ... it sounded like a bad soap opera. By the time they reached their destination, Gwendolyn and Pompey would either be firm friends or sworn enemies. He briefly considered the relationship potential, then dismissed the thought. They might not have been closely related enough for it to count as incest, and thus forbidden, but they weren't exactly compatible.

  “I shall place you in his capable hands,” he said. “Of course, if you do get caught by the other families, I shall deny all knowledge of you.”