Authors: Christopher Nuttall
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Galactic Empire, #Military, #Space Fleet, #Space Marine, #Space Opera
“They want what?
”
“
A number of the collaborators started signaling for help,” Davidson said, “offering everything they knew in exchange for a ticket off the planet. What do we do with them?
”
William sighed. “Captain Falcone is getting some long overdue sleep,” he said. He resisted the temptation to add
alone
to the statement.
They
had
to know he’d noticed they’d shared a cabin from time to time, even though it was technically against regulations. It didn’t seem to be interfering with their duties, so he wasn’t inclined to make a fuss about it. “Do they know anything useful?
”
“
They certainly know a great deal about how the Theocracy treats the conquered populations,” Davidson said. “However, they’re reluctant to say anything else without guarantees. They want us to lift them out before their fellows capture them or the Theocracy returns.
”
“
Because both of them will kill the assholes, either for collaborating or failure,” William said curtly. Were there any collaborators on Hebrides? Patriotism told him no, but cold logic suggested otherwise. There had been collaborators on Cadiz, despite the occupation force’s general incompetence; there was always
someone
who wanted power, or revenge, or safety . . . or merely enough cash to be able to relax for the rest of his life. “Are they worth taking?
”
“
I don’t think so,” Davidson said. “But if we allow a massacre, it could have political implications.”
“They’ll be less willing to surrender to us later,” William muttered. “
And
people will say we allowed, even encouraged, the slaughter.” He shook his head. “Tell them that if they surrender to us, we’ll take them—but only if they cooperate completely without any attempt to lie to us,” he said firmly. “If they are caught out, the deal is off and they will be treated as collaborators.”
Davidson frowned. “You
do
realize that some of these individuals are guilty of the most awful crimes?
”
William glowered at him. “Do you have a better suggestion? We either take them now, which will at least allow us to drain them of useful intelligence, or leave them to be slaughtered. I don’t see any alternative.
”
“
Me neither,” Davidson admitted. “But it will seriously piss off the resistance.”
“We can drop them on a penal world,” William suggested. “It wouldn’t be much of a problem for us, even if it’s one of
our
hellholes rather than an enemy penal camp we liberate. If they’re guilty of more than just trying to keep their families alive . . . well, we can punish them ourselves.”
He looked at the display for a long moment. “And I think the captain will say the same,” he added. “There’s a time for emotional reactions and a time for pragmatism.”
“I hope you’re right,” Davidson said. “But this looks very much like a no-win situation to me.”
William shrugged. “It always was,” he said. “Because when the enemy arrives, we’re going to have to put our tail between our legs and run.”
“Admiral
?”
Admiral Junayd jerked awake, muttering curses under his breath. “What?
”
“
This is Ali, in Tracking,” a voice said. He sounded alarmed. “A courier boat just jumped in from Verdean. The system is under attack!
”
“
Sound a general alert,” Admiral Junayd ordered. He swung his legs out of bed, then stood. “Get me a tactical download as soon as possible.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Ali said. There was a pause while Admiral Junayd grabbed his trousers and jacket, pulling them on over his underclothes. “Tactical download available now.”
“Route it to my terminal,” Admiral Junayd ordered. “And then copy it to my staff.”
He frowned as the terminal lit up. A fleet—no, a small squadron— of starships had entered the Verdean System and engaged the orbital defenses, blowing them into flaming debris before they could either repel the attackers or turn their firepower on the planet below. By the time the watchdog jumped out, heading for Aswan, the defenses were in tatters and the planet was sure to fall, either to the newcomers or the local resistance. The final emergency report suggested that several other locations within the system were
also
under attack.
This squadron may have captured or destroyed the convoy
, he thought as he watched the download for the second time. The watchdog’s sensors weren’t up to scratch—no one had considered the Verdean System important enough to receive a modern ship—but they had picked up enough detail for him to make educated guesses about the attackers.
And then they headed directly to Verdean . . .
He paused.
No, the timing doesn’t work out
, he told himself.
They went somewhere else first, somewhere . . . but where? Unless they were just scouting for potential targets.
“Inform my staff,” he ordered. “The 23rd Superdreadnought Squadron is to ready itself for immediate departure. I shall be shuttling over in”—he glanced at the chronometer—“twenty minutes. Commodore Malian will remain in command of the base.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Ali said.
“And order Commodore Malian, Captain Haran, and Cleric Peter to meet me in my office in five minutes,” he added. His steward appeared from a side door, carrying a large mug of coffee and a tray of biscuits. “They are
not
to be late.”
The coffee was scorching hot, but he drank it anyway, nibbling on a couple of biscuits as he walked through the corridors to his office. He’d had time, thankfully, to replace the comfortable furniture with something more befitting a Theocracy commander, although traces of the office’s former owner could still be seen if one looked carefully. Thankfully, Peter—his cleric—was so depressed over his assignment that he spent most of his time in his quarters rather than making a nuisance of himself. Admiral Junayd had a sneaking suspicion he was actually bending the rules in other ways, but so far he had no proof. If he had something he could hold over the cleric’s head . . .
He smiled at the thought as he stepped into the office and took his seat behind the desk. A large star chart was already showing the distance between Aswan and Verdean, reminding him that it would take at least two days to get the superdreadnoughts to Verdean, even if they pushed their drives to the limit. Admiral Junayd wouldn’t have cared to risk it, not given the near-complete lack of maintenance, but there was no choice. He
couldn’t
leave an enemy force in possession of an occupied system for long.
“Admiral,” Malian said. “Is it wise for you to take command of the squadron yourself?
”
“
I have more recent combat experience,” Admiral Junayd said shortly. It was true—and besides, the thought of
staying
on the station was driving him mad. “It isn’t up for debate.”
He nodded to the commodore as Captain Haran, his chief of staff, and the cleric hurried into the room. The captain looked alarmingly efficient, as always, but the cleric looked as if he had been woken from a very sound sleep. There would be a chance for him to catch up on his sleep once they were on the superdreadnought, he was sure; besides, it would keep the cleric from poking around on the naval base while he was gone.
“I will take command and lead the superdreadnoughts to Verdean,” he said in tones that brooked no dissent. “Commodore Malian, you will assume command of the base in my absence; whatever happens, do
not
send away the second squadron of superdreadnoughts. The attack may be a diversion to convince us to weaken our defenses here.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Malian said.
“Transmit a signal to home, informing them of the attack and that a squadron of enemy ships is loose in our rear,” Admiral Junayd added. “Request both reinforcements and personnel to turn this base into something more useful. Warn them that Verdean’s industrial base will be destroyed, if it hasn’t been already. We may expect fuel shortfalls in this sector at the very least.”
He looked at the cleric. “You and the captain will accompany me,” he added. “I expect you to spend your time ministering to the ship’s crew and praying to God that we manage to trap the enemy before they can retreat.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Peter said. He seemed to lack the fanatical mien of most clerics, somewhat to Admiral Junayd’s relief. A fanatic would be a major headache, questioning everything at precisely the wrong time. “I will accompany you.”
“Good,” Admiral Junayd said. He rose to his feet. “Commodore, the station is yours. Try not to let it be attacked before I return.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Malian said.
Admiral Junayd smiled, then headed for the shuttlebay, his two officers following in his wake. The rest of his staff would already be on their way; once they arrived, they would start running through tactical simulations. Admiral Junayd had a feeling they were wasting their time—nothing short of a squadron of superdreadnoughts would try to stand up to
his
squadron of superdreadnoughts—but it didn’t matter. He would show his zeal in responding to any threat to his command— and also give his crews some much-needed training before they had to cope with a
real
threat. Commodore Malian and his officers had let standards slip way too far.
Two days to get there
, he thought.
Two days for the enemy to wreak havoc, then retreat before we can arrive. They won’t stick around and wait for us.
“They’ll be here at any moment,” the XO said. Kat nodded. The timer had reached zero thirty minutes ago, warning her that she could expect an enemy fleet to arrive soon. It was possible, she had to admit, that
something
had happened to the enemy messenger, but she dared not count on it. There were too many things that could go wrong if she started assuming the best, rather than preparing for the worst.
She glanced at him. “Have the shuttles returned from the surface
?”
“Yes, Captain,” the XO said. “We have the prisoners, and the volunteers, and the workers on the ships.”
“Then order the rest of the squadron to slip into hyperspace and head to the RV point,” Kat ordered. “Inform Captain Millikan that he is to send the freighters back through the Reach, then give us five days. If we fail to return, he is to declare himself commodore, open the sealed orders in his safe, and then proceed as he sees fit.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said.
Kat swallowed, feeling a lump settling in her stomach. Standing here, just
waiting
for the enemy to attack . . . she hadn’t felt so vulnerable since the hasty return to Cadiz, after her cross-border mission. She’d
known
that the enemy superdreadnoughts were on the way; now, she knew the Theocracy would be straining every sinew to get a fleet out to Verdean before she could escape. And, unless she wanted to jump out now and abandon the system, she could do nothing but wait.
The tactical display flickered, then updated. “Captain,” the XO said. “The squadron has entered hyperspace.”
And let’s hope they don’t run into the enemy fleet
, Kat added silently. Encounters in hyperspace tended to be dangerous for all involved, but the Theocracy wouldn’t hesitate to try to run the squadron down if they thought they could. Their pride—and their reputation for being invincible—would have taken a severe dent, thanks to her.
They’d want revenge as well as the mere destruction of my ships
.
“Deploy the ECM drones,” she ordered. “And then take us away from the planet, as planned.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said.
She forced herself to relax, studying the latest reports from her tactical staff. Verdean might not have had a military-grade industrial base, but its workers
had
known a great deal about the local sector before the Theocracy arrived. The intelligence staff had done their work well. Four other potential targets had been identified, three of them promising enough to have her planning to detach the remaining patrol boats to scout their defenses. The fourth . . . might be nothing more than a waste of time, if the reports were to be believed. But it might confuse the Theocracy if she attacked . . .
“Gateways,” Roach snapped. Alarms rang through the ship. “I say again, gateways!
”
Kat nodded, feeling her heart starting to pound. Twelve gateways into hyperspace had opened, disgorging an enemy fleet. Nine superdreadnoughts led the way, flanked by two squadrons of destroyers and a handful of light cruisers. Her squadron wouldn’t have stood a chance in a straight fight. But then, she would have been surprised if the enemy
hadn’t
responded with overwhelming force. They needed to make a statement as much as she did.
“I have a tentative ID on the superdreadnoughts, Captain,” Roach reported. “They’re one of the squadrons located at Aswan.”
“Good,” Kat said. She frowned as the enemy fleet spread out, orienting itself. It wouldn’t be long before they locked onto her ship and the false sensor images, even though she was boosting away from the planet. “Keep us on our current course, then jump out on my command.”
Admiral Junayd couldn’t help feeling a sickly sense of defeat as his fleet emerged from hyperspace and started to scan the surrounding region of space. Verdean looked untouched, but the network of satellites, defense platforms, and industrial bases in orbit were gone and the handful of bases on the local moon had clearly been nuked. The bases on the planet, the ones charged with educating the locals in the true faith, weren’t even
trying
to contact him. It suggested, very strongly, that they’d been destroyed.
“Admiral, the enemy squadron is pulling away from the planet,” the tactical officer reported. “They’re well out of engagement range.”
Unless we want to risk wasting hundreds of missiles on ballistic trajecto ries
, Admiral Junayd thought. It struck him as a pointless exercise, spitting in the face of the inevitable.
They’ve timed their departure very well
.
“Detach the light cruisers,” he ordered. “They are to enter orbit and attempt to make contact with any forces on the ground.”
“Aye, Admiral,” the fleet coordination officer said.
“The remainder of the fleet is to go in pursuit,” Admiral Junayd added. “Best possible speed.”
It was futile, he suspected. He would be surprised if the enemy stuck around long enough for him to overrun their ships, let alone bring them to battle, but it had to be tried.
Someone
would have to take the blame for the failure, and he hadn’t been so politically naked since before the war had begun. Besides, the officer in charge of the defenses—along with the forces on the ground—was probably dead. And if he wasn’t, given the Theocracy’s attitude to defeat, he would soon wish he was. He’d be hung, drawn, and quartered.
Long seconds passed as the fleet altered course, the ponderous superdreadnoughts advancing towards their foe. The enemy fleet held its course and speed; Admiral Junayd had to admire their nerve, even though it worried him. Were they planning to draw the superdreadnoughts into a trap? A minefield, perhaps? Or hidden missile emplacements? Or . . .
“Admiral, the cruisers have made contact with the senior surviving officer on Verdean,” the communications officer reported. “His base was hidden, as per protocol; he reports that every base and formation on the planet was wiped out from orbit once the enemy took the high orbitals. Any survivors were picked off by the locals.”
“Duly noted,” Admiral Junayd said. It was important to reestablish control of Verdean, but for the moment he had other problems. “Is he in any danger?
”
“
No, sir,” the communications officer said. “His bunker was designed to remain undetected.”
“Then tell him to wait,” Admiral Junayd ordered. “We’ll be back for him once we’ve overrun the enemy squadron.”
Or they’ve jumped into hyperspace and fled
, he added silently, in the privacy of his own thoughts.
They have to know they can’t match us in a straight fight
.