Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  The image of Captain Baih Singh nodded in agreement.

  “You both realise it’s almost certainly suicide?” Frith said, knowing it was a statement rather than a question to the experienced Captains.

  Captain Singh spoke up. “Yes, Admiral. We’ve talked it through and realise what we are doing. Even in their damaged state, our two battleships pose a significant threat and they can’t afford to have us in their midst, so they’ll have to devote significant resources to neutralise us as we pass through them.”

  Captain Haynes interrupted his old comrade, “Not only that, Admiral, but we have a better chance doing this than simply trying to keep up with the fleet towards the Jump Point and being pounded to bits. We’ll definitely not survive that. If we manage to pass through their midst, they’ll either have to leave ships behind to finish us off, board us or risk having us bring up their rear and attack them from behind as you decelerate to make the Jump point. Either way, we’ll both keep them occupied long enough to help Captain Woods and the carrier get further away and draw more of the fire away from you and the Emperor.”

  The image of Haynes blurred for a moment and cut-out, before reappearing after four seconds. “Apologies Admiral, we just took several hits, one of which knocked out a power plant.”

  Frith looked intently at the faces of her two Captains before nodding. Despite the extra gravity, she brought herself to attention and addressed them both. “Agreed. Captain Baih, Brian; it’s been my privilege to have served with you. Gentlemen, if we all make it through to the other side…” She stopped, for once lost for words and unable to articulate the pride and respect she had for the two men.

  “We know Admiral, we know. Keep the Emperor safe.” And with that, the two images faded replaced with tactical data and damage reports.

  “Did you get that, Alexander?” she asked as the Emperors' face appeared on her screen. “Brave men.”

  “Yes Janice, they certainly are,” Alexander responded, “but ultimately we may all be shortly following them into the long night. Although we are taking three out for every ship we are losing, you know as well as I the odds are not in our favour. We cannot win a battle of attrition.” He looked over the update she had sent over. “You believe they want to board the Dauntless and take us as a prize?”

  Frith shook her head. “Not as a prize, but my assessment is they want you captured to use as a hostage or your dead body to display as proof. A vapourised Dauntless and no body to show for their trouble makes their job of convincing everyone of your demise that much harder. That gives us a slight advantage. Goodness knows we need something to go in our favour. Let’s hope we can last another twenty minutes, Alexander. If we do, at that point would you please join me on the Bridge? There’ll be something I’ll personally want to show you.”

  With that she cut the link, focusing on the battle in front of her, set out in red, blue and green in the tank. The enemy had already increased acceleration to close the distance between the two fleets. Frith was loathe to go beyond two-G herself because of the stresses involved on both the ships and crew, but the enemy was desperate to close the range and had pushed harder, if only by a fraction. Shortly, her fleet would begin decelerating hard to ensure it reached the Jump Point at rest relative to the system, a process that would take ninety minutes, at which point those still capable of Jumping would be able to make the transition to safe space. Once deceleration began the enemy would have to do the same if they didn’t want to overshoot and fly past them. A careful game of cat and mouse was being played out in space between the two opposing fleets, with the enemy desperate to get alongside and board before Dauntless could Jump. Constant changes in acceleration and deceleration ensured the enemy had to work harder to do so, placing greater strain on their systems and personnel. Only when she was certain they could make the Jump Point would she ask the Emperor what their destination should be.

  Captain Woods, along with all his Bridge staff, were now at their stations clad in armoured suits. He’d instructed his to administer him something for a king-sized headache but was reassured by the diagnostic readouts that he was suffering from nothing worse than a mild concussion.

  Switching his attention to the tank, he watched INS Glorious slowly fall behind the fleet, dropping out from beneath the covering point defences of Dauntless and the other battleships. Its own point defences, hindered now on three sides by the dead hangers, would no longer be capable of providing adequate cover and it was simply a matter of a few minutes before the enemy either blew her to bits or decided to board and take her as a prize. His own carrier’s shields were flashing brilliantly around the impact point of accelerated slugs, which vapourised into super-heated plasma, adding their energy to the particle beam fire that sought to find weaknesses as they probed the shield's integrity. Anyone foolish to look at the real thing, instead of the images relayed to the tank or screens, would have their retinas burnt within seconds, searing forever one last imprint onto their optic nerve.

  INS Acteon, one of Woods two remaining interdiction frigates, begin flashing in the tank, indicating a serious problem. Looking at a more detailed display of the frigate, he watched as it took multiple impacts from a concerted attack of both missiles and slugs, shearing the drive section away from the main body before detonating in a huge, silent explosion. The remaining frigate, INS Amethyst, began moving closer to his carrier, attempting to compensate for the loss of cover. With the two battleships falling further behind and moving to confront the closing enemy fleet head-on, the remaining interdiction frigate now had a much smaller volume of space to protect and could concentrate on just itself and Courageous. Woods doubted it would be enough.

  On INS Glorious, First Officer Cooke found herself in a maelstrom of decision making. Its AI had determined Captain Miller was no longer capable of captaining the ship and had offered her, as First Officer, command of the ship, providing a battlefield commission to Captain and citing various rules that she’d not bothered listening to. With mixed emotions, she had reluctantly agreed, for she knew in her heart that in all probability this would be both her first and last command. Captain Miller had been relieved several minutes before and was currently being escorted back to his quarters where she had instructed him to remain until the battle was settled, one way or another. Cooke had acknowledged a brief note from the Admiral wishing her good luck with a terse one-liner of her own but was under no illusions about the ultimate fate of her ship and crew.

  As Glorious fell behind and moved out from under the protective fire of Dauntless and the other ships, the frequency of direct hits increased, with swarms of smart-missiles seeking her out, their AI’s recognising the carrier’s vulnerability.

  Her shields were failing and would probably be down within the next few minutes, at which point Cooke knew Glorious would either be totally destroyed or her defences worn down to the point where the enemy could consider boarding her and look to take the ship as a prize. Even in her battered state, it made good economic sense to repair and refurbish a capital ship instead of building one from scratch, but she had mixed feelings if she wanted to let this happen.

  On her screen she could see boarding shuttles were being launched from one of the enemy carriers but whether it was for her ship or another she couldn’t yet tell from their trajectory. They were holding back, screened by enemy point defences, as if waiting for a decision to be made. Cooke didn’t know what would be worse; dying in combat or being taken prisoner and spending years, if not the rest of her life, in a cell or on a prison planet.

  Escorted by a Marine through a corridor that lead to his quarters, Captain Miller was in a state of denial, living moment to moment in a panicky nightmare of his own creation. Being removed from the Bridge, and having the command functions of his implant switched off, had been the final weight which tipped the balance of his mind, toppling him into an abyss of animal-like fear from which he could see no escape. With every shudder and recoil of the deck, his sanity slowly slipped further aw
ay from him.

  “Captain Miller, Captain Miller!” The voice of his Marine escort finally managed to cut through the mind-numbing fog of his panic. “Change of orders. We have to get you to a muster station for your own protection. Your quarters were just hit and that section has been sealed off.”

  Miller looked at the Marine, finding it hard to concentrate on what was being said to him. After a long pause he shook his head.

  “No, I have to get to my quarters. My things are all there and….do you feel that?” he asked the Marine, realising the ship was no longer shuddering and shaking to impacts.

  “Feel what Sir? Oh, I see. Probably a lull so their boarding shuttles can pass safely through without fear of being hit by their own weapons.” Fresh instructions came through to the Marine and he listened intently for a moment, before returning his attention back to Miller. “My orders have changed. You are to proceed to the nearest muster station alone.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Miller as the Marine began turning away to head back in the direction they’d just come from.

  “Re-joining my unit, Captain. Good luck Sir,” and with that the Marines helmet formed around his head and he sped off at full speed, his suit configuring itself to combat mode as he ran, smart metal bulkheads opening and closing as he sped along the corridor.

  Left alone in the now empty corridor, Miller sank down onto the metal floor with his back against the wall, pulling his knees up and cradling his head in his hands, lost in his own misery and oblivious to what was going on around him. After what seemed an age he managed to retain some semblance of control and stood up, the Marine’s instructions having finally managed to get through to his befuddled brain. Taking a few seconds to get his bearings, Miller called up the fastest route to the nearest muster station that avoided damaged areas and set off down the corridor towards the first bulkhead door. He slowed fractionally before reaching it, expecting the door to open automatically on his approach and let him through as it had for the Marine. When it refused to do so he stepped back a few paces and began to enquire of the ships AI what the problem was. Before Miller could finish articulating the question, he was blown forward into the bulkhead door by an explosion behind him, cracking his head in the process on the hard metal. Stunned and momentarily deafened by the concussion, he turned around to look down the corridor at the source of the explosion, only to be faced with dozens of vaguely familiar armoured figures pouring through a thirty-foot wide breach in the corridor. Anti-boarding measures activated and anti-personnel flechettes and particle weapons began firing from concealed ports in the ceiling, forcing Miller to look desperately for cover. Realising these were the enemy, he began raising his arms in the universal gesture of surrender, but before he could finish or even begin to articulate his surrender he watched the nearest figures level their arms at him. With a last instant of clarity, as his body was shredded by dozens of flechettes, he noted there was surprisingly little pain.

  Captain Cooke watched as the first of the boarding shuttles passed through her ships weakened point defences and begin ramming into her side, penetrating deep into the hull, relying on the carrier’s smart metal hull to create air-tight seals behind them. The AI was sending parties of Marines to the affected areas and coordinating the defence at a speed no human could match. Automated interior defence systems were slowing the enemies advance throughout the ship, but it was only a matter of time before vital areas were taken and key systems turned against the defenders. She briefly considered joining the Marines but realised they would be at the Bridge soon enough and here would be a fitting place to make a last stand. Casualty reports increased rapidly as the enemy methodically began working their way through the carrier’s interior, killing anyone they met and inserting Infiltrator Programmes into key areas before being confronted by defending Marines.

  For a brief moment, she had the satisfaction of noting Captain Miller's name on the list of casualties before it was scrolled away by numerous others. Although scared almost to the point of panic, her training and sense of duty kept any trace of it from her face and she took not a little pride in how calm her voice sounded when she addressed her staff. Rising from her command chair she called for attention and looked out across the expectant faces.

  “You all know our position. This isn’t the way I expected my first command to go, but few of us ever get to choose our ending. To stop Glorious being taken as a prize I’ve instructed the ship to self-destruct once the Bridge is taken.” For a moment, Cooke stopped talking and simply smiled at her comrades. “It’s been my honour to serve with you all. Let it not be said that we didn’t go down fighting to the last.”

  With that, she saluted them as one and held their gaze for a few seconds before nodding, at which point everyone turned back to their duties and began thinking of their own mortality.

  Admiral Frith watched with a heavy heart as the graphics and internal displays showed the boarding of INS Glorious, noting the valiant defence being put up by the crew and the setting of its self-destruct. Once Glorious’s AI recorded the death of the last Command Rank officer or capture of key systems and the Bridge, it would trigger the ships end. Knowing there was little she could do to influence their fight in any way, she turned her attention to what was left of her task force. Two of her four Battleships, Royal Sovereign and Tiger, had been severely damaged, with Tiger’s propulsion off-line despite her engineers’ best efforts to reestablish it. Tiger only had a brief window in which to begin decelerating, otherwise they would not be able to make the Jump point. Running on auxiliary power, it would only be a matter of time before Tiger would be unable to maintain her defences and become vulnerable to boarding. Royal Sovereign was still under her own power, but it was doubtful whether she would get to the Jump point before being overwhelmed.

  Her remaining Battleships, INS Warspite and Vanguard, remained fully functional despite having been severely pounded themselves. Along with the three remaining Interdiction frigates, INS Defender, Daring and Alacrity, they had closed in around Dauntless to shield the flagship. INS Audacity and Dragon were out of the fight, both having been completely destroyed by concerted waves of smart-missiles and fighters, reduced to large expanding clouds of gas and debris.

  As requested, Alexander would be joining her shortly on the Bridge and she hoped the plan she had set in motion at the beginning of the engagement would come to fruition.

  Frith noted a sudden reduction in the number of blows Dauntless was taking, quickly mirrored by reports from across her remaining ships. Before she could voice or think the question, a report came in from the Cyber-Warfare team to her left.

  “Admiral,” reported the lead officer, trying hard but not quite succeeding in keeping the satisfaction out of his voice, “we are pleased to report we have identified and jammed the code and frequency used by the enemy smart-missiles, blocking their ability to communicate with each other and act in concert. All ships reporting fewer strikes as a result.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Golding,” Frith replied, “please pass on my compliments to your team. The news is most welcome, if perhaps a little late in the day.”

  She looked across at the team and nodded in their direction, giving Golding a look of appreciation that belied the tartness of her final comment. With a small smile, he returned the nod and went back to work, looking for other weaknesses his team could exploit.

  Inwardly, Frith let herself relax a fraction at the news. This was a major turning point in the battle as the missiles, denied the ability to co-ordinate their attacks, now had to work independently of each other and would be far less effective as a result. Her implant advised that Alexander was about to enter the Bridge so she cleared her screens and called up the display she wanted him to see.

  Moments later Alexander entered without any ceremony, walking over towards her, stopping only for a few moments at the Cyber Warfare station to have a few quiet words with Lt. Golding and his team. Although she couldn’t hear what was being said, she sa
w his right hand briefly pat the shoulders of the two operatives nearest to him, before continuing over.

  “Thank you for coming, Sire. I have something here I think you will want to see.”

  Scene 30, Dunvegan Castle, Skye

  It had been a frustrating few days for Adam as he’d been unable to find an excuse to vanish for the few hours he would need to retrace his steps back to the escape pod. Although Karen had given him all the space he needed, letting him spend hours either in the garage working on his fitness and muscle tone, or in the study pouring over the ancient computer keyboard, he knew that disappearing would risk questions he was as yet unwilling to answer. In addition, he found himself really enjoying her company, even when she was in another part of the house.

  Using satellite imagery taken from the Internet, Adam had located where the pod was likely to be and realised that without his night vision lenses it would take him at least forty-five minutes to retrace his steps back to the craft under cover of darkness. All told, a round trip in the dark would take three hours, plus whatever time he needed to produce more money and use the basic onboard systems to try and hack into the databases of banks to see if a fictitious account could be opened. Vimes had assured him it was possible and would not take too long once the proper commands had been given, but neither of them wanted to risk using the computer at the house in case it could be traced back to their location.

  Both he and Vimes agreed that using the cover of night was his best chance at concealing the visit and he planned to go that evening once Karen had retired for the night. Before then he’d agreed to visit Dunvegan with her during the day, an old castle dating back eight hundred years and steeped in local history. Very few such relics remained on Capital and although in the Empire there were numerous buildings far older, all dated from after the great expansion began by his distant ancestor and were post-industrial in style. To visit an actual stone castle, built by a civilisation only slightly removed from a hunter-gatherer or agrarian way of life, was something he might never have a chance to do again. With a sigh, he reminded himself that if was stuck here for the rest of his life he would have plenty of opportunity in the future, for this planet was littered with examples.