He grabbed control of three more and pointed them towards a habitation node. Emergency craft were already deploying, but it looked like they wouldn't be in time. Gary felt his lips pull back into a sneer, then pushed the worker bees forward. The impact would wipe out hundreds of the bastards ...
***
Joshua Abram had been sitting in his cabin, cursing the customs crew under his breath, when the alarms started to sound for the second time. He’d been woken up barely an hour before he was supposed to get up, which meant there hadn't been any real hope of getting back to sleep before he had to get out of bed for good. The CO would have been pissed if he’d been late and docked his pay ... and when he was the only one in the family earning a living wage, he couldn't afford to lose anything. His parents were engaged in make-work, while his sister was too young to do anything beyond schooling. He couldn't risk a reduced pay packet ...
The alarms sounded, again. Joshua rolled his eyes, then reached for his helmet and placed it on his lap. There was no point in actually putting it on until there was a real emergency, not when he hadn't had a chance to verify his shipsuit’s inbuilt oxygen supply. In hindsight, putting that off until he had a weekend to spare had been foolish. If the CO found out, he would have torn Joshua a new asshole - not out of concern, but out of the prospect of having to do the paperwork if Joshua died on his watch. Joshua sighed, then smiled in honest relief as he realised the alarms actually helped him. The CO could bitch about anything, as long as it was his subordinates’ fault. He wasn't allowed to dock their pay if they were late because of an emergency alert.
He’d probably try, Joshua thought, darkly. Complaining was dangerous, even on the shipyard. A complainer could be given shit duty for weeks ... or simply kicked out and sent back to Wolfbane with a black mark on his record. I think ...
Another alarm sounded, a second before a dull thud echoed through the habitation node. Joshua hastily donned his helmet, then took a deep breath, praying the life support system was in good condition. The air tasted faintly stale, but it was breathable; he sucked in his breath with relief, then shuddered as a third alarm, harsh and uncompromising, echoed through the air. Hull breach.
Joshua hurried forward and through the hatch as dull quivers started to shudder through the entire complex. He’d never felt anything like them before, not in real life, but he knew what they portended. The complex had been badly damaged, air was leaking out of one or more gashes in the hull ... and the shockwaves were on the verge of ripping the entire structure apart. Outside, the quivering was louder; he could hear metal screaming in agony as it was bent and broken by forces beyond his ability to grasp. And he could hear, in the distance, the faint hiss of air escaping from the hull.
He stumbled forward as the gravity flickered, then stopped in front of a hatch leading into another cabin. Someone was banging on the hatch, her muffled voice screaming for help; Joshua hit the switch, but the hatch remained firmly closed. The entire hull was being warped, he realised, as he hunted for something - anything - that could be used to open the jammed door. There was nothing in view ....
A great tearing sound echoed through the compartment. Joshua heard something splintering, in the distance, then he was yanked off his feet by a sudden outrush of air. He tried to grab hold of a piece of bulkhead, only to have it come loose in his hand. Helplessly, he plummeted through the ever-widening gash in the hull and out into space. The shipsuit warmed automatically, protecting him from hard vacuum, as he tumbled helplessly away from the structure. He saw a piece of debris, larger than his entire compartment, spinning past him and out into the void. In the distance, he could see flashes of light ... was the entire shipyard under attack?
His suit should be signalling automatically, he knew, screaming for help. Normally, there was always a worker bee or a shuttle in easy range, ready to pick up someone who had found themselves dumped into space unexpectedly. But now ... even if his transmitter was working, and if someone picked it up, he had no idea when he would be recovered. If he ever was recovered ...
Something twinkled with light, in the distance. Joshua sighed, then took a breath and forced himself to relax. There was nothing else he could do, but wait.
***
“The worker bees have gone mad,” Lieutenant N’Banga reported. “They’re killing people!”
“They’ve been hacked,” Drew said. There were so many problems, one after the other, that his attempts to deal with one issue only made the next one worse. “They’re designed for remote control and someone has managed to hijack the link.”
He gritted his teeth. Hundreds of people were dying and they needed the worker bees, but he couldn't take the risk of leaving the hijacked ones to fly around at will.
“General signal to all worker bees,” he ordered. “They are to cut all drives and come to a complete halt, relatively speaking. Any bee that refuses to do so is to be taken out.”
N’Banga stared. “Sir?”
“Do as I tell you,” Drew snapped. For the first time in his life, he would have been grateful for a more senior officer reporting in and telling him what to do. But there was no one; indeed, judging from the handful of reports over the network, all hell had broken loose on Wolfbane too. “Then pass the word to the security patrols. Nothing is to be allowed to operate on remote control until our systems have been secured.”
He looked up at the main display and swore under his breath. Thirty-seven installations lost or damaged beyond easy repair, forty-two in need of some repairs before they could go back to work ... and thousands of people dead or seriously wounded. It would be months, at best, before the facility could be repaired. By any standards, he had to admit the intruders had managed to cripple the entire shipyard.
He looked over at Ensign Pittman. “Did the troops find any trace of the enemy?”
“Not at the armoury, but it was vaporised,” Ensign Pittman said. “There are reports of enemy soldiers attacking an industrial complex ...”
“Reroute the troops over there,” Drew ordered. If nothing else, catching or killing the rest of the enemy force would feel good. “And try to raise help from Wolfbane. We need more troops out here.”
“They’re barely responding,” Ensign Pittman said. “Something bad happened on the surface.”
Drew ground his teeth. “Something bad is happening here!”
***
“They’re signalling all worker bees to cut their drives,” Stewart reported. “I think they’ve worked out what we’re doing.”
“Cut our drives, but keep us gliding out,” Jasmine ordered. There was so much sensor distortion around that she would have been impressed if the Wolves had been able to track them; hell, the bees were so small that tracking them was difficult even without it. “We have to make it out before they start slamming the door closed.”
She leaned back in her chair, then waited. It would be hours before they reached the Passing Water, assuming they made it out, but there was nothing else she could do. One way or another, she’d given Wolfbane a very bloody nose. It would take them months to repair the shipyard, not to mention replace all the supplies she'd smashed. Even a comparatively minor loss would seem disastrous when the system was so tightly wound.
“They missed us,” Stewart said, after nearly an hour. “They didn't see us leave.”
Jasmine shrugged. “Keep us covert,” she ordered. The Wolves had too many other problems to deal with right now, including swarms of debris blasting free from shattered habitats and thousands of people trapped in interplanetary space, running out of air. “We’re not clear yet.”
She closed her eyes. The remainder of the team had volunteered to strike further into the shipyard, knowing the odds were not in their favour. And, unlike Carl Watson, they didn't have a hope of blending into the civilian population, not once the guards started looking in earnest. She knew it was unlikely any of them would even be taken alive.
I'm sorry, she thought. She would have given anything to accompany the
m, to take their place, yet she’d known it was impossible. But your deaths will mean something. I promise you that.
***
“They blew themselves up rather than be taken alive,” Ensign Pittman reported. “But they did a great deal of damage.”
“I know that,” Drew snapped. It had been two hours since the attack had begun and the damage totals had only mounted upwards. Even the desperate attempts to save as many lives as possible had only saved a bare handful of workers. The sudden end of his career was starting to look like a quick trial, followed by an even quicker walk out an airlock. “Can you not get any link to Wolfbane?”
“No,” Ensign Pittman reported. “The link is open, sir; they’re just not replying.”
“Then we must make do with our own resources,” Drew ordered. He would have killed for a battleship’s complement of small craft, to say nothing of a fleet repair ship’s crews. “The remaining enemy soldiers are dead” - he doubted any of them had actually managed to escape - “so get the security teams working on picking up stranded workers. We’ll convert the battlestations to emergency accommodation until we can see just how safe the habitation nodes are ...”
He sighed, inwardly, as he kept rattling off orders. There were emergency procedures no one had ever expected to use, not until now. He put them into play, hoping they lived up to their promise, then forced himself to keep going. It kept him from thinking about the future, what little there was of it. He knew he’d done badly ...
... And that the enemy, whoever they were, had given Wolfbane a very bloody nose.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
In addition, various colony development corporations actually benefited from this state of affairs. Hundreds of thousands of unwilling settlers could be dumped on marginal worlds and forced to work to turn them into profitable concerns, which allowed the development corporations to colonise the worlds on the cheap. They naturally supported the Empire’s hard line on POWs.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Empire and its Prisoners of War.
Wolfbane City, Wolfbane, Year 5 (PE)
“You didn't say a word, did you?”
Rani didn't bother to disagree as Paula Bartholomew was shown into her temporary office space, overlooking the scorched and broken Governor’s Mansion. She hadn't passed on the warning, after all, and it had played out for her. Governor Brown was dead, some of his highest-ranking subordinates were dead ... and she was in control. It wouldn't be long, she was sure, before someone decided to challenge her, but for the moment she held the power in her dark hands and she planned to keep it.
“You practically killed him yourself,” Paula added. “Didn't you?”
Rani looked up at her and smirked. “Do you care?”
“I made a deal,” Paula said.
“With me, not with the Governor,” Rani said, dryly. “I just saw fit not to pass the message on.”
She leaned forward, studying Paula. Her record had made interesting reading; she’d served almost as a political advisor as well as aide to General Stubbins. Clearly, Stubbins hadn’t been a particularly competent general, but she’d certainly helped keep him afloat until Governor Brown had outmanoeuvred him. And yet, the cynic in her told her that was no great feat.
“You proved yourself treacherous,” she said, softly. “And yet, I cannot find it in myself to blame you for your treachery. It would be hypocritical to blame you for doing something I did myself, for similar reasons. You may, if you wish, take your reward and go.”
Paula frowned, but said nothing. Rani understood. Governor Brown would have kept his word, even if he found it something of an embarrassment. His career as a corporate rat had depended on a reputation for honesty; laws could be pushed to the limits, loopholes could be exploited mercilessly, but he could never outright break his word. Rani, on the other hand, might have no hesitation in ending Paula’s life, now that she was seemingly no longer useful. A quick accident and the last person who knew that Rani had allowed the assassination attempt to go ahead would be gone.
“However, I require someone to assist me with the politics on Wolfbane,” she added. “You may serve as my aide, if you wish. I have no interest in you beyond your formidable political skills.”
She paused. “Should you betray me, of course, you won’t have a second chance.”
Paula blinked. “You’re serious?”
“You have skills I need,” Rani said. “And if anyone else was to find out what you did, I imagine they would be very unhappy. Governor Brown wasn't very popular around here, I fear, but he was respected. Many of his former servants feel a military officer will be a less comfortable head of state.”
She met Paula’s eyes, recognising a kindred spirit. “If you want to go, I will let you go,” she added. It was a lie and she suspected Paula would recognise it as such. There was no way she could leave the only living witness in a position to do any damage. “There will be wealth, safety and a chance to build a whole new life, away from the maddening crowds.”
“I will work for you,” Paula said, slowly. “If you really want me ...”
“I do,” Rani said. And she did. Talent like that shouldn’t be wasted; besides, she had enough leverage to keep Paula loyal for the rest of her life. The absence of sexual harassment would probably help too. “Now, answer me one question. Did you know they were planning to attack the shipyard?”
Paula shook her head. “I knew they had something in mind, but I thought it was just the attack on the Governor,” she said. “Did ... did he make it out alive?”
“We found a body,” Rani said. Even dying, the assassin had managed to take out a number of security guards; the final explosion had killed several guards who had been far too close for comfort. “DNA testing confirmed it to be one of the prisoners who escaped Meridian.”
She smiled at the relief on Paula’s face. “I have a set of quarters for you here,” she added. “Go wash, get yourself changed into something more presentable, then report back to me in two hours. We have a lot of work to do.”
Paula nodded, then left the room. Rani looked back down at her datapad, then keyed a switch. Moments later, a different door opened and Commander Drew Malochy was escorted into the room. He looked pale; defiant, but pale. Rani had no difficulty recognising an officer wondering why his superior hadn't ordered an immediate execution. Given just how badly he’d screwed up, a quick execution would be almost too good for him ...
... And yet he'd done well, coping with the aftermath of the disaster.
“Commander,” she said, as he snapped to attention and saluted. “I want a full account of what happened to the shipyard.”
She listened, feeling cold ice crawling down the back of her spine, as Commander Malochy outlined the entire story. It was clear, with the benefit of hindsight, that the exploding customs ship had been hijacked, then used to get a team of sabotage experts through the defences and into the shipyard. And then they’d just taken advantage of everything they’d found within to wreak havoc.
“Very well,” she said, when he had finished. “How long until we get the shipyard back to a viable level of production?”
Malochy hesitated, noticeably. “I can’t give you a straight answer, Admiral,” he said. “There are too many variables ...”
“Then give me as detailed an answer as necessary,” Rani snarled. If nothing else, she was going to make it clear that she wanted simple answers, not five hundred pages of technobabble and jargon when one would suffice. Governor Brown had practically encouraged a cult of imprecise answers. “How long until we can start churning out more starships?”
“The damage to the industrial nodes was quite severe,” Malochy said. “We can repair some of the damaged units within two to three months, but the remainder cannot be replaced easily; I think we’d be looking at two to three years before the shipyard was back up to capacity. In addition, the damage to both construction slips and stockpiles of components will add additional months to the problem. Our system-wide industria
l base will need to be re-jiggered to cope with the sudden shortages.”
He took a breath. Clearly, he expected her to shoot him out of hand for his next report.
“The real losses, however, come in trained personal,” he continued. “We lost over nine thousand technical experts, all of whom will take years to replace. One missile took out the training school and killed several hundred students, along with taking out the teaching machines we had reconfigured for them and the personnel who were serving as teachers. It will take years to restart the program, as teachers working in other places will need to be brought to the shipyard to work there.”
“I see,” Rani said. “You have the situation under control?”
“The remaining personnel have been secured,” Malochy said. “I’ve ordered the debris to be pushed out of the shipyard, for the moment; we will need to sift through it at a later date to see if anything can be salvaged, but ...”
Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) Page 37
