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

by Christopher Nuttall

  She smiled, darkly. “The time may have come to start moving forward with our plans,” she added. “Do you have any idea how long it will take them to reach Earth?”

  “They could be here by now,” Adeeba said. She shook her head. “There are just too many factors that might affect matters. They might well be able to get a message to us before they actually arrive ...”

  “Maybe,” Gaunt said. She looked down at her hands, then up at the young men. Most of them, Adeeba knew, had volunteered despite knowing the risks. They had nothing to look forward to on Earth. “Can we count on you to join us?”

  “Of course,” Adeeba said. The alternative, she knew, was staying in the apartment or an underground base, hoping and praying that the offensive succeeded. She couldn't endure much more of that. “What do you want us to do?”

  “We’ve been trying to work out how best to act, when your fleet arrives,” Gaunt said. “The problem, of course, is timing. If we move too fast, we will be destroyed by the security forces before your fleet can intervene; if we move too slowly, we might not be allowed to join any post-war government. So ... when the time comes, we will have to act fast. What would your people like us to do?”

  “Shut down the defences,” Adeeba said, immediately. She doubted it was possible to take them all down, but the more the defences were weakened, the easier it would be for Colin to take the planet. It would also make it easier for the underground to secure targets on the ground. “And perhaps threaten the High City.”

  “We shall see,” Gaunt said. She made the words sound vaguely threatening. “We shall see.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Colin had – foolishly – expected Sol to look different. Humanity’s first star should have been special, somehow. But from five light years distance, Sol was no different from any of the hundreds of other stars visible through the observation blister. It was chilling to realise that the stars would still be burning brightly, millions of years after Colin himself was long forgotten. He contemplated the thought for a long moment, then turned and smiled as Jason Cordova and Daria were shown into the compartment. Behind them, Mariko brought up the rear.

  “Well done,” Colin said. He’d had his doubts about Cordova, but he had to admit that the man had done very well. Very well indeed. “Without Wolf 359, the Empire will start to totter towards collapse.”

  “Well done to you too,” Cordova boomed. “Without Morrison, the Empire will find it hard to mount a counterattack before time runs out.”

  Colin nodded. The data the rebel spies had collected had identified two remaining fleets within the Core Worlds, one protecting Earth and the other protecting Terra Nova. Colin wasn't sure which one to go after first; Earth offered the prospect of a quick victory, but Terra Nova was vitally important. He wouldn't put it past the Thousand Families to prevent the massive shipyard from falling into rebel hands by destroying it.

  And then there was the other problem. Their supply lines, already far too long, were even weaker now that they had almost reached Earth. Taking Terra Nova offered the chance to replenish their supplies without having to wait for new material to be shipped from Morrison – or Jackson’s Folly. It was all too easy to imagine the chain snapping, forcing them to abandon the offensive until they obtained new supplies. And every day they gave the Empire only gave the Thousand Families more time to prepare their fallback options ...

  He sat down and activated the portable display. A holographic image of the Core Worlds appeared in front of him, showing the location of known enemy fleets and fortifications. Quite a few worlds were heavily defended, even though they didn't have superdreadnaughts of their own. The Empire had been willing to allow local defence forces for the worlds that had limited internal autonomy, but they had been reluctant to allow anyone outside the Imperial Navy to build anything heavier than a battlecruiser.

  “The problem,” he said, “is that Terra Nova and Earth are close enough to allow mutual support. If we attack one, the other will send ships to assist our target. We therefore need to prevent them from doing that – and if we can get them to denude our target of its defences, it would be a definite bonus.”

  “You won’t get them to denude Earth of her defences,” Cordova said. “I imagine they had an awful catfight over sending even one starship from Earth to Terra Nova, particularly after we took out Wolf 359.”

  “Probably,” Colin agreed. He pointed a finger at Earth. “I want you to take your fleet, five of the arsenal ships and a handful of ECM-equipped destroyers and charge through the Sol System. Make yourself very noticeable, convince them that the entire fleet is raiding their territory. Don’t let them think about a threat to anywhere else.”

  Cordova smiled. “And you will be taking the rest of the fleet to Terra Nova?”

  “Yep,” Colin said. “We’ll give you ten minutes. If we’re lucky, the Thousand Families will recall the naval units protecting Terra Nova, leaving it ripe for the plucking. But if we’re not ...”

  He shook his head. “We should have the firepower to convince them to back down and surrender,” he added. “If they don’t, we can take out the shipyard with ballistic missiles.”

  “That could be an expensive waste of effort,” Cordova pointed out. “They might notice the missiles.”

  “We can destroy the facilities and then pull out, leaving the fortifications to wither on the vine,” Colin countered. “Your girlfriend will be upset, but we will have to live with it.”

  Cordova stroked his beard. “She’s already going to kill me for Wolf 359,” he said. “Are you intent on getting us both killed?”

  Colin had to laugh. “We launch the operation one hour from now,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Cordova boomed. “They will regret the day they ever heard of us.”

  “I think they already do,” Daria said, tartly.

  Colin smiled, then waited for them to leave the compartment and leave him alone. It was strange not having to plan an operation down to the tiniest detail, strange and wonderful at the same time. The Imperial Navy’s smarter officers knew better than to assume their subordinates could be trusted to carry out their orders, so they planned everything and punished each and every deviation from the plan. Colin, on the other hand, knew and trusted his subordinates. Besides, he knew from long experience that the time it took to send a signal back to the command ship and receive new instructions could be lethal.

  And the Imperial Navy could never have launched an operation at one hour’s notice.

  He allowed his smile to widen. The Empire would never be the same again.

  ***

  “The post-battle analysis indicates that the point defence network at Morrison was badly compromised,” the analyst droned. “This created a cascading failure that knocked out individual nodes of the network, which resulted in the entire network eventually losing the capability to regenerate itself without shutting the whole system down and restarting it. The rebels took advantage of the collapse to disable or destroy the Morrison Fleet.”

  Tiberius sighed inwardly as the analyst droned on. It was rare for someone so junior to be summoned to face the Families Council, which suggested that Grand Admiral Porter and Admiral Foster feared for their jobs. Not that he blamed them for that, he had to admit. The Families Council had been in an evil mood ever since news of Morrison had leaked out several hours ago. There was already panic in the streets and dire threats from various family gatherings.

  “Fine,” he said, hitting the table hard enough to make them all jump. The analyst stared at him and started to splutter. “Let us ignore the precise technical details. Can Home Fleet be protected against a similar attack?”

  “We can reprogram the network to work around a successful jamming effort,” the analyst assured him. “However, they will still be able to jam individual sections for brief periods of time. We would need to redesign the system completely to prevent the jamming from affecting it at all.”

  “Good, see to it,�
�� Tiberius said. He looked over at the other Family Heads, who seemed shocked at his sudden interruption. “The precise details don’t matter. What does matter is that we are on the verge of losing the war.”

  He smiled at their shock, then pressed on. “The rebels are coming to Earth,” he added. “They may already be on their way. We need to consider ways to preserve what we can.”

  Lord Rothschild leaned forward. “I admit that the war situation has taken a turn not necessarily to our advantage,” he said. “But the rebels seem to want everything. How can we surrender on such terms?”

  “Then we try to offer them different terms,” Tiberius said. “We still have something to bargain with ...”

  The alarms sounded. “Or perhaps we might just have run out of time,” he said, instead. “The rebels are here.”

  ***

  Commander Patrick Jones had never visited Earth before the mutinies, but he had to admit that he was impressed by the sheer volume of activity within the system. Earth, Venus, Mars and Jupiter were surrounded by a formidable network of orbital fortifications, industrial production nodes and asteroid settlements, while thousands of interstellar and interplanetary ships plied their trade between the asteroid belt and the planets. There was no shortage of targets for hit-and-run raids, even though there had been no piracy in the system for hundreds of years. But then, the Imperial Navy had long since driven pirates out of the system. It had been considered safe.

  “Take us towards Earth,” Cordova ordered. “Then, once they have a solid lock, take us back again. Let them get a good look at us.”

  Patrick shook his head in astonishment. Cordova was deliberately baiting Home Fleet, a formation with seven squadrons of superdreadnaughts under its flag. On impulse, he brought up the live feed from the drones Cordova had launched towards Home Fleet and examined their reports. Home Fleet seemed to be powering up, but very slowly. If they hadn't been positioned within Luna’s gravity shadow, he would have seriously considered proposing a raid like the one they had launched against Wolf 359.

  “Taking their time,” Cordova agreed. “But I doubt they will chase us.”

  He looked over at the communications officer. “Transmit the recorded message,” he ordered, shortly. “I want the entire system to hear our manifesto.”

  ***

  “Four squadrons of superdreadnaughts and thirty-seven smaller craft,” Admiral Porter reported. “Admiral Foster has taken direct command of Home Fleet. He’s powering up now.”

  Too slow, Tiberius said. He studied the reports from the massive sensor networks orbiting Earth. The rebels seemed to be taunting the defenders, rather than going in and taking them out ... there was a crude overconfidence about their actions that bothered him. Did they really believe that the Imperial Navy would leave them alone?

  “Order Home Fleet to go after the bastards,” Lord Bernadotte ordered, tartly. “I want the rebels thrown out of our system.”

  Admiral Porter hesitated, listening to someone else through his earpiece. “We cannot hope to intercept them,” he said, finally. “They’ve already had time to recharge their flicker drives, so they can and will just jump out as soon as they see us coming. We cannot get at them until they choose to come into missile range.”

  “We can't leave them there,” Lord Rothschild insisted. “They’re mocking us!”

  “And proving that Sol isn't secure,” Lord Edison added.

  Tiberius rolled his eyes. Trust them to think about the political aspects of the situation first. But they were right, he had to admit. Right now, there were countless underground groups watching as the rebels casually violated the Sol System without punishment. Home Fleet might be the most powerful formation left in the Empire, but it was useless if it wasn't intimidating to the Empire’s enemies. Besides, they didn't dare bombard Earth into submission. Too much of their workforce and their families lived on the homeworld.

  “Admiral Foster intends to dispatch several battlecruiser squadrons to intercept the rebels,” Admiral Porter said. “He also proposes the recall of the squadrons from Terra Nova.”

  “But that will leave Terra Nova uncovered,” Lord Bernadotte snapped. “We cannot risk our last Class-III shipyard!”

  “But Earth itself is under threat,” Lord Rothschild countered. “If we lose Earth, we lose everything!”

  “The rebels aren’t even trying to break down the defences,” Lord Bernadotte insisted. “For all we know, this is a feint. They want us to pull ships from Terra Nova.”

  Tiberius winced at the panic swelling through the chamber. They were the rulers of the known universe, lords of thousands of worlds ... and they were panicking. And perhaps they were right to panic. Earth had been their citadel, their invulnerable fortress, for so long that they had grown used to thinking of the planet as untouchable. But the rebels, perhaps, thought differently ... and they had knocked down dozens of certainties as they made their way towards Earth. Why should Earth’s invulnerability be any different?

  He looked over at Admiral Porter’s image. “Admiral,” he said, “what do you think?”

  Admiral Porter hesitated, glancing from face to face. Tiberius sighed inwardly as he realised it was useless. Admiral Porter wasn't a fighter; hell, he’d never even set foot on a starship’s bridge. The advice he would give would be guided by political considerations, not sound military thinking. If Admiral Wachter had been in command, instead, he would have done what the situation demanded, not what the Families Council wanted. But Admiral Wachter was lost to them ...

  He gritted his teeth as the Admiral hemmed and hawed. Who would have thought that someone could give a long speech that basically boiled down to asking what was politically acceptable? But then, the Families Council had only themselves to blame. If they had chosen competent men instead of sycophants ... he pushed the thought aside, bitterly. There was nothing they could do about it now. And, even if they won the war, it was unlikely they could change.

  “We take a vote,” Lord Rothschild said. “All those in favour of recalling the Terra Nova squadrons?”

  Tiberius hesitated, then voted against. But only three others joined him.

  “Admiral, recall the squadrons,” Lord Edison ordered.

  Admiral Porter nodded and obeyed.

  ***

  “They’re sending battlecruisers up after us,” Patrick said, as new icons separated themselves from the looming mass of Home Fleet. “But the superdreadnaughts are remaining where they are.”

  “Good choice, for them,” Cordova commented. He looked over at the helmsman. “Pull us back, gently. We don't want them to get discouraged.”

  Patrick blinked in surprise. “You plan to let them chase us for a while?”

  “Nothing like a pointless chase to annoy someone,” Cordova said. He smirked, stroking his beard. “Besides, it will make them feel like they're doing something.”

  Patrick had to agree. The battlecruisers were faster than superdreadnaughts, but as long as Cordova was careful they would never be able to come into missile range ... and, if they did, Cordova could simply jump out. On the other hand ...

  “If we outrun them, they’ll know we don’t have any real superdreadnaughts,” he pointed out, slowly. “Unless they think we’ve somehow boosted the normal space drives.”

  “They won’t know for sure,” Cordova agreed. His smirk managed to grow wider, somehow. “And if you were on a battlecruiser, would you really want to catch a force of enemy superdreadnaughts?”

  He shook his head. “No, they’ll make it look good,” he said. “But they won't try to catch up with us so hard they actually succeed.”

  ***

  Tiberius watched as the enemy starships played cat and mouse with the Imperial Navy battlecruisers, wondering just what they were thinking. He knew very little about military strategy, but it seemed odd that several squadrons of superdreadnaughts would try hard to avoid a squadron of much smaller battlecruisers. On the other hand, they might not want to waste missiles on the battlec
ruisers, he told himself. They weren’t likely to find any replacements for expended missiles in Sol.

  “So,” Lord Rothschild demanded. “When will the squadrons from Terra Nova arrive here?”

  “Two minutes, assuming they start out at once,” Admiral Porter said. He seemed more confident, now that disaster had failed to materialise. “But it depends on how deeply they were within the gravity shadow of the gas giant.”

  Tiberius nodded. The Terra Nova Shipyards, like the Jupiter Shipyards, were buried deep within a gas giant’s gravity shadow. It gave them some protection from a hit and run raid, but it also ensured that the defenders had climb out of the gravity shadow themselves if they wanted to flicker to Earth. And he had to admit, despite himself, that he was worried. The rebels might well want to take out Terra Nova, even if they didn't go after Earth. After all, most of Earth’s defences were fixed in place ...

  New green icons appeared on the display. “They have arrived,” Admiral Porter said. “I have ordered them to steer towards the rebels.”

  ***

  “New contacts,” the sensor officer snapped. “Three squadrons of superdreadnaughts, one definitely identified as being from Terra Nova.”

  “I’d hate to think that they might have come from somewhere else,” Cordova said. He grinned at the officer, then smiled at the display. “They didn't quite get the timing right.”

  Patrick had to agree. If the imps had been luckier, they might have jumped right into missile range, repeating the trick Cordova had pulled at Wolf 359. But instead, they were just outside missile range ... and closing fast. All things considered, he decided, both sides had been luckier than they deserved.

  “Colin will be pleased,” Cordova said. Evidently, he agreed with Patrick’s silent assessment of the situation. “And the enemy will be caught between two fires.”

  Patrick nodded. The enemy faced the prospect of losing one of the two targets they absolutely had to protect. And if they allowed their ships to be caught out of position ...