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

by Christopher Nuttall

  His wristcom buzzed. “Admiral,” the XO said, “we have returned to the fleet.”

  “Good,” Colin said. There was no time to waste. “Start reloading the arsenal ships and our missile tubes.”

  He closed the channel, then looked over at Anderson. “What do you want to do with her reputation?”

  “Tell everyone that she was forced into servitude,” Anderson said, shortly. “Too many people liked her, really. We tell them that she was conditioned and they’ll accept her as a martyr. Hell, we can turn her into another propaganda story.”

  Colin hesitated. He didn't like the thought of using a young woman’s death for propaganda, even though they would never know just why she’d served the Empire. But then, at least they would get something out of the whole affair apart from the awareness that they’d caught one spy. Who knew how many others there were?

  “Make sure you secure the datanet thoroughly,” he warned. “If someone else tries to use those backdoors, I want to know about it.”

  “Understood,” Anderson said. He took one last look at the body, then stepped backwards. “With your permission, sir, I will start spreading the word.”

  Colin nodded, then turned and walked out of the brig.

  ***

  “Seeker rejoined the fleet thirty minutes after our arrival,” Colin said, an hour later. “She reported that we took out three enemy superdreadnaughts and damaged two more.”

  “Excellent,” Daria said. “And you caught the spy.”

  Colin nodded, looking around the conference room. Too many faces were missing. Jeremy Damiani, of course, was either a prisoner or dead. Salgak and the rest of the Geeks were on their starships; Hester and Hannelore were back on Jackson’s Folly, working frantically to organise the rebellion’s industrial base. If the attack on Morrison failed for a second time, all their efforts might prove futile. The Empire would have all the time it needed to launch an offensive of its own.

  But they lost Wolf 359, Colin thought. The courier boat had arrived just before he’d taken the squadron to Tabard. Cordova had scored a stunning victory, one that fully justified the rebellion’s faith in him. Right now, the Empire would be reeling. Entire families would be teetering on the brink of collapse. There would be no better time to resume the offensive.

  “The spy’s message included the claim that we were not ready to resume the offensive,” Colin said. It had been tricky to make sure the spy picked up on it, but the message had been recorded and deciphered. They’d succeeded. “That is, of course, a lie.”

  He took a breath. “We’re going back to Morrison,” he said. “We have the new weapons, new tactics ... and this time we will not underestimate our enemy. This is how we are going to proceed.”

  The plan was simple enough, but the basic equation hadn't changed. He still had to knock Morrison out before advancing into the Core Worlds, knowing that failing to do so would leave the Morrison Fleet in his rear. And he was far too aware of just what an aggressive Admiral could do with the Empire’s preponderance of mobile firepower. Hell, given enough time, the Empire could cut loose entire squadrons of battlecruisers and send them to raid Colin’s rear. No, there was no alternative. They had to knock Morrison out – and soon.

  And Admiral Wachter would know it too.

  “Go back to your ships,” he ordered, finally. “We will leave in one hour.”

  Daria hesitated, waiting until the others were gone. She even waved Mariko out, although Colin was sure that the tiny girl would be waiting on the other side of the hatch. It was rare to see them apart, even though they were clearly a mismatched pair.

  “Good to see you enthused again, Colin,” she said. “I was worried for a while.”

  “Thank you,” Colin said, sourly. It was funny, “I just had to learn from defeat.”

  “Hell, we had to do that all that time,” Daria said. “Why do you think the League is composed of bastards? Never give up, that’s our motto. Whatever happens, never give up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Penny had never really felt nervous around Admiral Wachter, but she did now.

  “Admiral,” she said carefully, “are you sure you should be drinking?”

  Admiral Wachter looked down at his glass. It held an amber-coloured liquid that probably cost more than Penny would ever make in her life. The sight bothered her; Percival had drunk too, normally before summoning Penny for a little ... fun. But Wachter was nothing like that, was he?

  “I don't know,” he said. He put the glass down on the table and looked up at her. “I received orders from Earth. They want the prisoners shipped back to them, immediately.”

  Penny blinked in surprise. “Immediately?”

  “I had them transferred to a Marine landing craft, then sent to Earth,” Wachter said. “They say they’ll honour my terms, but they don't want me to keep them. What does that suggest to you?”

  Penny had known Percival far too well. “That they don’t intend to honour your terms.”

  “Or that they’re stalling,” Wachter added. “That they think they will win the war, even though Wolf 359 is gone.” He snorted. “I'm not supposed to tell you that, by the way.”

  “Wolf 359 is gone?” Penny repeated. “But ... how?”

  “The rebels pulled off a daring operation,” Wachter said, shortly. “There’s a security clampdown, so I don't really know anything beyond the simple fact that the shipyard is gone. And that leaves Terra Nova as the only remaining Class-III shipyard in the Empire.”

  It was more than just that, Penny knew. Wolf 359 had supplied everything from starship components to colony farming equipment. The sudden destruction of the facilities would trigger shortages all across the Empire, probably setting off economic shockwaves that would do real damage to the Empire’s stability ... if, of course, the rebels hadn't been trying to undermine it themselves. No matter what the Thousand Families believed, it wouldn't be long before the news leaked out. It probably had on Earth.

  “They’ve also ordered me not to launch any offences against the rebel-held planets,” Wachter added. “I think they’re still trying to decide what to do.”

  Penny winced. The Families Council needed three to four weeks to send orders from Earth to Morrison. By the time they made up their mind and the orders reached their destination, the situation might have changed radically. The rebel fleet was still out there, as proven by their attack on Tabard, and they clearly hadn't given up on the war. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they came after Morrison again.

  “We could win this war now, if we launched an offensive,” Wachter said. “But no, we have to remain here. They’re not even ordering us to detach ships to Terra Nova ...”

  “It would take three weeks to get the ships there,” Penny pointed out. But he had a point. Terra Nova and Earth were the two systems the Empire could not afford to lose. Hell, if the rebels took out the shipyard orbiting Terra Nova they’d win even if they didn't occupy the system. “Or maybe they’ve sent orders for you to do that and they’re still on their way.”

  Wachter snorted and reached for the glass. Penny braced herself and picked it up, moving it carefully out of reach. Wachter gave her an odd look, then withdrew his hand. Penny tried not to sigh in relief. Percival would have given her anything from a beating to summary demotion to the ranks for depriving him of his pleasures.

  “It doesn’t help to get drunk,” she said, quietly.

  “No, it doesn't,” Wachter agreed. “Do you realise we also had several new arrivals from Earth?”

  Penny swallowed. Wachter had requested repair crews and more warships. He’d received Blackshirts and additional security officers. In theory, the Blackshirts were there to provide prisoner escorts, but Penny suspected that the truth was a little darker. If the Thousand Families decided they could disperse with the Admiral’s services, they could order their conditioned servants to remove him and they would obey.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. She took a long breath. “
Do you remember what I said to you?”

  “I think you shouldn't say that again,” Wachter said. “You know why I can't take over the Empire.”

  Because you’re loyal, Penny thought. It wasn't something she really understood. She’d given her loyalty to Percival, not the Empire as a whole. But both of them had betrayed her, Percival by treating her as a slave and the Empire by searching for a scapegoat for the disasters in Sector 117. Wachter, on the other hand, deserved her loyalty. And yet she didn't understand how he could be loyal to the Empire.

  But she had read his file. He was minor aristocracy. If the Empire collapsed into outright civil war, his family would either be absorbed or destroyed by the other families. Could it really be so simple? Could his loyalty be nothing more than calculation? And yet he’d shown loyalty to his subordinates, purged officers – no matter their connections – who had abused their positions and, by doing so, had alienated his own superiors. He was, she decided, a very strange man.

  “I think you should get a good night’s sleep,” she said. There was an old joke about a personal aide being nothing more than a nursemaid. But being a nursemaid was better than being a whore. “I’ll alert you if something changes ...”

  Alarms sounded, echoing through the giant starship. “You and your big mouth,” Wachter said. He reached under the sofa and removed an injector, which he pressed against his arm and triggered. The alcohol would be swept from his system within seconds. “Go to the CIC. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Penny nodded and left the room. The CIC was right next to the Admiral’s quarters, allowing her to enter the compartment within seconds. A couple of officers gave her odd glances and she felt her cheeks heat – they’d probably assumed that she was the Admiral’s lover as well as his assistant – but she ignored them, choosing instead to concentrate on the display. A number of red icons had appeared, alarmingly close to the planet.

  “Defence network powering up now,” the tactical officer reported. “All starships are reporting their status ...”

  “No need to panic,” Wachter’s voice said, from behind her. “We saw them off once and we can do it again.”

  Penny turned to smile at him, then shook her head in amazement. Wachter had changed his jacket, shaved his chin and donned his cap, within barely five minutes. He looked an Admiral now, she decided, as he moved up to stand beside her. She flushed as he winked at her, then studied the display. The enemy fleet was building up speed.

  “The report from the spy was clearly in error,” Wachter said. “Unless, of course, half of those superdreadnaughts are drones.”

  He quirked his eyebrows at Penny, inviting her to comment. “They’re ... they’re not having any problems keeping up,” Penny said. “So they're either real superdreadnaughts or smaller starships pretending to be superdreadnaughts.”

  “Very good, Captain,” Wachter said. He looked over at the tactical officer. “Launch an extra spread of drones. I want to see the letters on their hull.”

  Penny nodded in understanding. Drones and smaller ships could use ECM to pretend to be something they weren't, but they’d never be able to fool visual observation. The only question was if the drones would survive long enough to get close enough to use optical sensors. But then, the way the rebel fleet was just charging at the planet, it seemed they’d definitely have their chance.

  “Concentrate our own fleet in blocking position, but keep us within the orbital defence network’s envelope,” Wachter ordered. There were no fancy tricks this time. The rebels would have to engage the loyalists within the gravity shadow or try to lay siege to the planet. “And then prepare to engage the enemy.”

  ***

  Colin watched, as dispassionately as he could, as the enemy ships launched their first set of recon drones. After what he’d done at Tabard, he wasn't too surprised that the enemy was trying to make sure the squadrons of superdreadnaughts bearing down on him were actually real. They'd also have to wonder just how much of what the spy had sent them was true. It should keep them busy for a while, Anderson had said, but Colin had his doubts. At worst, they could simply draw the right conclusions through analysing the previous battle.

  “Engage the drones with point defence,” he ordered. The Morrison fleet was clenching up, like a man trying desperately to hide something in his fist. The enemy was disdaining tactical flexibility, daring him to come after them and enter the gravity shadow. If they knew about Wolf 359, and they probably did, they’d be leery of taking any losses. “Make them work to get a look at us.”

  He studied the reports from his own drones and scowled. Most of the enemy ships seemed to have been repaired, although it was difficult to be sure. They'd played games with IFF signals, just like the rebels. He looked up at the main display, silently calculating the odds in his head. If the new weapons worked, they might just have a chance to do real damage to the Empire’s fleet without taking heavy losses of their own.

  And if they don’t work as advertised, Colin thought, we will still have a chance.

  “Open hailing frequencies,” he ordered.

  “Channel open, sir,” the communications officer said.

  “Admiral Wachter, this is Colin Walker,” Colin said. “You are outnumbered and outgunned – and you are loyal to the Empire. Surrender now and help us rebuild the edifice into something we can all be proud of. We guarantee good treatment of your officers and men, even the ones who don’t want to join us.”

  He allowed his voice to darken. “But if you don’t surrender,” he added, “we will have no alternative, but take the system by force.”

  It wouldn't have worked, Colin suspected, on any other officer. But Admiral Wachter genuinely cared for his men. Perhaps, just perhaps, he'd see reason.

  ***

  Penny cursed inwardly the moment she heard the damned message. Admiral Wachter had enemies, men and women who suspected the worst of anyone who was actually competent. If they heard the rebel message, one of them might decide to try to remove Wachter now, before it was too late. And yet, if the Morrison Fleet lost its commander in the midst of a battle, the rebels would almost certainly win.

  “No response,” Wachter ordered, tiredly. “Launch gunboats. I want every one of those ships locked down.”

  “Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.

  “Those superdreadnaughts look real,” Wachter commented. Penny looked down at the reports from the drones, then nodded in agreement. “Which means that the information we were sent is probably all lies intended to mislead us.”

  He smirked. “Good thing we were told not to launch any offences, right?”

  Penny had to chuckle. If they’d taken everything in the spy’s message at face value, it would have seemed the perfect time to launch a counteroffensive, which would have left Morrison weakened when the rebels returned to the system. As it was, aristocratic indecision and bureaucratic stonewalling had worked in their favour. It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so lucky.

  Wachter turned his attention back to the tactical display. “General orders; target the superdreadnaughts – and only the superdreadnaughts. Everything else can wait.”

  “Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.

  “The rebels are locking weapons on our ships,” the sensor officer snapped. Red lights flared across the display as the rebels locked on. “They’re preparing to fire!”

  Wachter and Penny exchanged glances. “Interesting,” Wachter mused. “They’re out of range. And they can't flicker into range, not within the gravity shadow. I wonder what they have in mind.”

  He turned back to the tactical officer. “Bring our point defence to full alert,” he ordered. “If they have extended their missile ranges, I want to be ready.”

  Penny wasn't sure she believed it. The problem with extended missile ranges was the same as firing missiles from standard extreme range. Enemy point defence systems had longer to track the missiles and plan out their interceptions while the missiles were on their way. It was odd
for the rebels to do something stupid ... and firing missiles from extreme range would be stupid. Unless, of course, they had boosted their missile swarms by an order of magnitude. A few hundred thousand missiles would seriously damage the fleet, no matter when and where they were fired.

  “True,” Wachter said, when she said it out loud. “And the rebels have never been stupid. And that means they have something up their sleeves.”

  ***

  “Experimental missiles are locked on target,” the tactical officer said. “Set one is ready for launch.”

  Colin nodded, grimly. The Geeks had worked wonders, as always, but they had only been able to produce a few hundred of the experimental missiles. Even their modified ECM projectors only numbered in the tens. Given time, they could probably produce thousands of them ... but by then the Empire would have rebuilt its shipyards and started churning out new superdreadnaughts. And the experimental missiles wouldn't be enough to tip the balance.

  “Fire,” he ordered.

  There was a second disadvantage with the experimental missiles; they were over twice the size of the standard missile. They couldn't be fired from internal tubes, they had to be mounted on the hull. And if someone managed to land a shot on the hull before the missiles were launched ... Colin had considered the risks, then chosen to accept them, but he hadn't been too pleased about it. There were just too many unknowns involved. If he'd had his way, there would have been months of tests before the systems were deployed in combat.

  The superdreadnaught shuddered, gently, as the first barrage was launched. It looked pitiful compared to the massive barrages both the rebels and the loyalists had deployed in the past, but it was fired from well outside standard missile range. The missiles picked up speed rapidly as they flashed towards their targets, advancing on the Imperial Navy starships with deadly intent. Their size made them easier targets, Colin noted dispassionately. The Imperial Navy had to be looking forward to wiping the entire barrage out .. unless, of course, they realised there was a trick. Admiral Wachter would definitely realise that there was a trick.