There was no disagreement.
Tiberius wasn't really surprised. Powerful subordinates – over-mighty subordinates – were a persistent problem for the Empire. Someone competent enough to be useful was also someone competent enough to be a very real threat. The entire Imperial Navy edifice was designed to ensure that anyone who did reach high office was either lacking in ambition or thoroughly subverted to a patron. Admiral Wachter might have come from minor aristocracy, but that wouldn't reassure them. The Empress had been minor aristocracy too.
“And we should also have all POWs sent here,” Lord Bernadotte added. “For safe-keeping, of course.”
“Of course,” Tiberius agreed, dryly. Just because interrogation was forbidden wouldn't stop Public Information trying to use them. If one of the mutineers switched sides again ...
Not that they would have to switch sides, he thought. Public Information could make up a story out of whole cloth.
They’d already started, naturally. A hugely-exaggerated version of the Battle of Morrison was already playing on the datanets, ending with the complete destruction of the rebel fleet and all of its crewmen. They’d have to explain the discrepancy somehow ... or lie. Why not? They’d lied for hundreds of years when the truth had been deemed too dangerous to tell the public. Even the underground’s best attempts at spreading the truth could be buried under Public Information’s shower of lies.
If anyone believes it, he thought, I would be very surprised.
But quite a few Admirals would have taken the opportunity to exaggerate their own success ... They were lucky to have Wachter, even though he was very much a two-edged sword. He could cut the Thousand Families as easily as fight for them.
He shook his head as the meeting finally came to an end, then disengaged from the conference and walked back into his office. The latest reports from the financial analysts were on his desk, but he ignored them. Instead, he called for Marie. He needed to relax, he explained it to himself, before he did anything else. Life at the top was just too stressful.
***
“Do you believe the stories?”
Adeeba considered the question carefully. Public Information's claim of a decisive victory at Morrison were wildly exaggerated, she suspected, but there was probably some truth in it somewhere. By her calculations, Colin might well have reached Morrison by the time of the battle. But the rumours of a successful strike on Wolf 359 were utterly unconfirmed.
Or at least they hadn't been confirmed directly. But when the underground had checked the stock exchanges, half of the property that openly belonged to the Sandakan Family had been confiscated or frozen until debts were paid. The family had definitely taken a major hit and their only installation of note was Wolf 359. Adeeba wasn't sure how many of the rumours were actually true, but there was definitely some truth there too.
“I think the stories are reasonably believable,” she said, finally. “But we couldn't have lost over two hundred superdreadnaughts in a single battle.”
Gaunt snorted. “How do you figure that?”
“There are barely three hundred superdreadnaughts in the entire Empire,” Adeeba said. “The Empire couldn't assemble such a force, not now. There hasn't been a fleet that large since the First Interstellar War.”
Frandsen coughed. “Interesting,” he said, with a wink. “But if there have been attacks this close to Earth, what do we do about them?”
Adeeba considered it. “Wait until we know more?”
Gaunt gave her a sharp look. “You don’t want to take the offensive?”
“We have no way of knowing just how badly our fleet was damaged at Morrison,” Adeeba said. “Sure, we can't have lost ships we don't have, but we don’t know the real story. All we can do is prepare ... or risk losing everything if we strike too soon.”
“I wish I disagreed with you,” Gaunt said. She looked around the tiny apartment. “Are you all right, here?”
Adeeba shrugged. There was barely enough room to swing a cat, but the neighbours were quiet – Earth’s inhabitants tended to ignore their fellows, unless they looked particularly weak – and there would be plenty of warning if the security forces caught on. Besides, it let her think about their planned operations in peace.
“It could be better,” Frandsen said.
“Worse too,” Gaunt commented. “It is actually larger than a holding cell.”
She gave him a thin-lipped smirk, then continued. “We may need you to help us train for operations in orbit,” she added. “Can we count on you?”
“Of course,” Frandsen said. “What do you have in mind?”
Gaunt smiled, showing her teeth. “Wait and see.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Jump completed, sir.”
Colin nodded, grimly. It had taken longer than he’d expected to repair his fleet, something that had left him feeling increasingly antsy as the days wore on. His most optimistic calculations suggested that it would take at least two months for the Morrison Fleet to repair its own damage, but it was quite likely that Admiral Wachter wouldn't wait to go on the offensive. He, as much as Colin himself, understood the value of keeping the enemy off balance
“Take us towards the planet,” he ordered. “But do not take us into the gravity shadow.”
Tabard had been settled in the same year as Morrison itself, but it had never really taken off into a fully-developed world. The files suggested that the system’s lack of a gas giant had muted investment, even though there were gas giants only a handful of light years away. By now, there were only a handful of facilities in the system, all belonging to minor families or the planetary government. Oddly, Tabard’s sheer lack of importance ensured that the planet had a degree of independence others would never be able to enjoy.
Unless one happens to renounce technology altogether, Colin thought, as the squadron shook itself down into formation. Then you would have nothing the Empire wanted, apart from a potential dumping ground for criminals.
He looked down at the reports from his ships, grimly. Seven weeks of intensive work had repaired most of the damage, but some of the ships really needed some time in a proper shipyard. The engineers had warned him that they couldn't be overstressed or their makeshift repairs would collapse, something that Colin had found darkly amusing. People didn't go to wars to relax and nor did their starships. The best he could do was keep the damaged ships in the rear.
“Picking up a courier boat,” the sensor officer reported. “She jumped out; destination unknown.”
Probably Morrison, Colin thought. Admiral Wachter would know that Colin and a dozen rebel starships were attacking the system within moments, assuming that all went according to plan. If he took the bait ... Tabard was barely four light years from Morrison. His response force could be on the way within minutes. And if the enemy didn't take the bait, Colin could at least wreck the system’s facilities in the course of testing his repaired ships.
“Transmit the standard warning,” he ordered. “Tell them to evacuate their facilities or die on them.”
The planet came closer in the display, barely defended and utterly vulnerable to anything larger than a destroyer. Colin wasn't surprised – and a little relieved – to see the orbital installations hastily launching lifepods, most of them rapidly dropping out of orbit and heading down towards the surface. The system CO had probably taken one look at the nine superdreadnaughts on his display and crapped himself. Maybe he’d be executed for not even firing a shot at the rebels, but at least he’d preserved his people’s lives.
Alarms shrilled as new icons flickered into the system. “Contact, sir,” the tactical officer said. “Two squadrons of superdreadnaughts and escorts; I say again, two squadrons of superdreadnaughts and escorts.”
“Good,” Colin said. He glanced at the status display – the flicker drives were powered up, ready to jump – then smiled. “Alter course towards them.”
He didn't expect to win – he didn't even intend to stay in the system long enough
to fire a second barrage – but it didn't matter. All that mattered was giving the enemy a fright ... and accomplishing the second half of the plan.
“Send a signal to Seeker,” he added. “She is to follow her special instructions, then rejoin the fleet later.”
***
The spy had worked hard over the past seven weeks, much to her private annoyance. Her conditioning kept pushing her to sabotage the ship, forcing her to believe that she could get away with it without being detected. Maybe, on an Imperial Navy starship, it would have been right, but the rebels were far better trained than the average naval crew. They checked and rechecked everything, catching even the tiniest of mistakes. There was no way that outright sabotage could have gone unnoticed. Besides, the best she could do was blow up the superdreadnaught. The rebels would still have the rest of their fleet.
She had tried to distract the conditioning, which nagged at her relentlessly, by gathering data on the rebel fleet. The damage control officers were allowed to access all kinds of information, even material that would have been denied to them under normal circumstances. She’d taken it, stored it in her datapad and told herself that she was doing good. But, now the Imperial Navy had met them at Tabard, she had to send them the data. There was no way her conditioning would allow her to delay a moment longer.
Obeying the orders from her supervisor, she clambered into the tubes and crawled towards the access point. There were few crewmen who really liked the tubes; she’d worked hard to develop a reputation as someone who could navigate them with ease. It ensured that her supervisor often sent her out on her own, without a partner who would notice her activities and alert the Marines. The rebels, thankfully, believed in allocating people to the sections where they could do the most good. Ironically, it should have worked in their favour, but now it worked against them.
She reached the access point, spliced in the datapad and went to work.
***
Colin smiled to himself as a message blinked up in his personal display. The spy had gone to work, precisely as anticipated, and was trying to upload information to the enemy. Hopefully, the spy hadn't noticed that most of the information the newcomers had been allowed to access was fake and badly understated, but it wouldn't matter. The important thing was that they now knew where they could find the spy.
“Get him,” he muttered. “Hurry.”
He turned his attention back to the display. The enemy fleet wasn't slowing; instead, it was actually picking up speed, as if the CO was determined to play a mad game of chicken. Or, perhaps, force his way into energy range. Colin grinned to himself, then checked the tactical display. They would be in medium range in two minutes. And then they would see ...
***
Sidney had no problems navigating the tubes. As a native of an asteroid settlement, he was perfectly aware that sometimes he just had to crawl through tubes, even if the tubes were so thin that it seemed they were closing in on him. He clutched his stunner in one hand as he came out of the tube and turned to see a young woman fiddling with a datapad. She let out a gasp as she saw him, then grabbed for the pistol at her belt. Whatever she was, Sidney realised, she’d had some good training. She had the pistol out of her holster before he zapped her with the stunner. She let out a little gasping sound and crumpled to the metal deck.
He keyed his throatmike as he stepped forward, keeping the stunner pointed at her head. “I found her,” he said, as he knelt down beside her. They’d been warned to take no chances, so he pulled her hands behind her back and secured them, then tied her ankles together. “Just one person, Sergeant.”
“Understood,” the Sergeant said. “Are you sure she’s out of it?”
Sidney checked the girl’s vital signs. “Yes,” he said, shortly. “She’s definitely stunned.”
“Good,” the Sergeant said. “The others are on their way now. Once they’re with you, help them carry her to the brig. Leave her modifications alone. The engineers will deal with them.”
***
“Crewman Third Class Natasha Rosina,” Anderson’s voice said. “One of our newcomers, definitely. And she would have been in position to betray the asteroid too.”
“Understood,” Colin said. “Take care of her. I’ll see you once the battle is over.”
He closed the channel, just as the enemy ships came into range. “Lock weapons on target,” he ordered. “Fire!”
The five arsenal ships that had been pretending to be superdreadnaughts fired as one, launching over ten thousand missiles towards the enemy ships. Colin’s actual superdreadnaughts fired a moment later, adding their own weight of fire to the barrage. The enemy ships seemed to flinch as the missiles roared towards them, then returned fire. Colin allowed himself a tight smile, then gave the order. The entire fleet flickered out without further ado.
“Jump complete, sir,” the helmsman said. “We escaped without losses.”
Colin smirked. The enemy fleet had probably powered up its flicker drives too, assuming that Admiral Wachter had overridden the beancounters who whined about wear and tear on expensive machinery. In peacetime, they would have had a point. Keeping a flicker drive powered up shortened its lifespan by at least half. But now, with massive missile swarms an ever-present threat, such whining should go out the airlock.
“Seeker will join us later,” he said. The destroyer’s orders had been to cloak, then observe the result of the missile barrage. Colin would have preferred to believe that the enemy squadron was utterly destroyed, but he knew better than to count on it. “Stand down from battlestations; take us back to the rest of the fleet.”
He stood. “XO, you have the bridge,” he added. “Contact me as soon as we reach the fleet.”
There were five armoured Marines on duty outside the brig compartment, with two more inside. The ship’s doctor was examining a naked figure lying on a bed inside the first cell, with yet another Marine and Anderson standing next to her. Both of the men looked concerned – and irked. The girl had spied on them for months and they’d only noticed through sheer luck.
“She’s basically normal, physically,” the doctor said. “No implants that I can detect, a limited amount of gene-splicing ... nothing really dangerous. The only significant point is a modified gene for null-gravity environments, one that isn't catalogued in the database. It might just have come from the Beyond.”
“Or it might have been devised by Imperial Intelligence,” Anderson rumbled. “Something to prove her credentials.”
“Perhaps,” Colin said. “And no one suspected anything?”
“Her supervisor gave her a glowing report,” Anderson said. “She was liked by everyone, it seems. And she had a partner, one Crewman Rogers. He refused to believe the truth when I told him.”
Colin winced, feeling a moment of sympathy for the young man. It wasn't easy to form a relationship with a girl, not on an Imperial Navy starship. Below decks, life could be very hard for the women. They were not only outnumbered significantly by the men, they were often chased by their superior officers too. And the very worst ships had the female crewmen forced into prostitution ... it was one of the things everyone knew happened, but did nothing to stop. Colin had won the loyalty of Shadow’s crew by taking a stand against such gangs.
“No need to harass him,” Colin said. “Check him out with a lie detector, then let him go.”
“We know how she accessed the datanet now,” Anderson said, changing the subject. “If she refuses to cooperate, we can duplicate it for ourselves.”
The spy let out a gasp, her entire body jerking against the restraints. Colin watched, grimly, as the doctor placed an injector against her neck and shot something into her bloodstream, explaining that it was a mild sedative. It was quite possible, Colin knew, that the spy had been conditioned to commit suicide as soon as she was captured. The sedative, combined with the restraints, might make it impossible.
Her eyes jerked open. “I ...”
“Relax,” the doctor said. “You’re sa
fe.”
Anderson grunted, unpleasantly. The doctor shot him a sharp look. There would be time for an intensive interrogation later, but for the moment they had to prevent any suicidal programming from activating. If the spy didn't believe herself to be in real danger ... she jerked again, her hands straining against the restraints. Colin shook his head, but refused to turn away. There was no way the spy could believe she was not in danger.
The girl convulsed, then went limp. Alarms sounded as her entire body sagged. The doctor swore, then pushed another injector against her neck. But it was already too late.
“The command to commit suicide was too strong,” the doctor said. There was a bitter tone in her voice. “The moment she realised she was caught, her conditioning ordered her to die.”
Anderson scowled. “There was nothing you could do to save her?”
“I could have kept her permanently sedated or stuffed her into a stasis tube,” the doctor snapped, tartly. “But I doubt I could have kept her awake and alive. You would probably need direct brain linkage to pull anything out of her and we don't have the equipment. And if we did, I wouldn’t. It would be grossly immoral.”
“Imperial Intelligence does it all the time,” Anderson said.
“I rest my case,” the doctor countered. She looked over at Colin. “I’ll give her an autopsy, but I don’t think I’ll uncover anything particularly significant. There was nothing special about her, merely her brain and her forced obedience to orders.”
Colin leaned forward. The girl looked so innocent, in death. “You’re sure she was forced?”
“She was quite definitely conditioned,” the doctor said. She shrugged, expressively. “But apart from that ... we’ll probably never know. She could have been captured, turned into a spy and sent back to the Beyond or she could have volunteered for the job. If she’d changed her mind later ...”
Colin shivered. Conditioning would have ensured she couldn't have changed sides, no matter what she discovered about the Empire. She might have wanted to join the rebels, only to be held in place by her mental bondage. In the long run, it would have killed her. But until then she would have served the Empire faithfully.
Democracy's Right: Book 02 - Democracy's Might Page 31