He smiled. “Just remember what I told you,” he concluded. “Make them work for their victory.”
Chapter Ten
Commander Ira Dennison stared around his command centre, feeling – again – a sensation of total despair. Fairfax had been intended to serve as a shipping hub, but the economic slowdown had diminished the system’s importance long before the rebellion had started in Sector 117. Ira was far too young and junior to be in command of the mighty orbital fortress, yet he’d been given no choice. His former commanding officer had departed the system soon after the Battle of Camelot for ‘consultations.’ It was rather more likely, Ira knew, that the bastard had weighed the odds and decided to leave before the rebels landed on the system like a ton of bricks.
It was quite likely to happen, he knew. Fairfax had a small shipyard, a couple of industrial nodes and a planetary population that chafed under outside rule. The only thing keeping the planet from a general uprising was the hulking presence of the orbital battlestation, which could hammer the planet back into the Stone Age if Ira felt like it. But there were times when he had his doubts. Which side should he be on?
The Empire hadn't been bad to him, he had to admit. He’d passed through the Academy and gone out to serve in Fortress Command, with a handful of commanding officers who hadn't been too bad to the newly-minted Ensign. Even the coward who’d fled hadn't been an unpleasant person. Ira had heard whispered stories of abuses, but he’d never seen any of them personally. Fortress Fairfax-One – Fortress Command was not noted for imagination when it came to naming its fortresses – was a reasonably happy orbital fortress. It just happened to be sitting right in the path of the rebel advance.
Ira had tried to convince himself that the system would remain untouched, but he knew better than to believe it. The shipyard alone was worth capturing, while the industrial nodes would help support the rebel war effort. Besides, there was an entire planet of potential rebels under the fortress’s guns. He would sooner expect the rebels to commit suicide than leave Fairfax alone. Even if it couldn't threaten their supply lines, it could serve as a base to starships that would.
An alarm chimed. He jerked upright, his eyes searching the display. There had been almost no visitors to the system in the months since they’d heard of the Battle of Camelot. The only movement had been STL interplanetary transports carrying ore from the asteroid field to the industrial nodes. Now ... several red icons had blinked into existence, a safe distance from the planet. Others were appearing too, spreading out into a crude but effective formation.
“I'm reading twenty-seven superdreadnaughts and forty smaller ships,” the tactical officer said. She sounded stunned. Like most of Fortress Command’s personnel, she had never seriously expected a major attack on the worlds they guarded. “They’re generating enough ECM to make it hard to be sure we’re seeing them all.”
“Good work, Bianca,” Ira said. The rebels weren't even trying to hide. Were they that overconfident or did they want him to think that they were overconfident? Ira hadn't been allowed access to the sealed personnel files, so he knew almost nothing about the rebel commander. “Bring our systems to full alert, then load missile tubes.”
Bianca looked up at him in surprise. She was junior to him by six months – which hadn't stopped them from moving in together as soon as they’d realised that regulations were unlikely to matter any longer. Fortress Command had always been more laid back about interpersonal relationships than the Imperial Navy, although rumour suggested that the navy was also more given to having illicit relationships.
“Commander,” she said carefully, “there are twenty-seven superdreadnaughts out there.”
“I know,” Ira said. It was unlikely the ECM hid more superdreadnaughts, although he had to admit it was possible. “But we can't just surrender.”
***
Colin forced himself to relax as the Shadow Fleet settled down into hammerhead formation. There was no way to know what the defenders had in mind for Fairfax; they might surrender at once, they might fire off a handful of shots and then surrender ... or they might fight to the death. Fortress Command had never been noted for defiance in the face of overwhelming power, but they were holding an entire planet in bondage. They had to suspect that the locals would tear them apart if planetary bombardment was no longer a factor.
“One orbital fortress, Class-VIII; confirmed,” the tactical officer said. “Nine automated weapons and sensor platforms; confirmed. No military starships within detection range.”
“Lock weapons on target,” Colin ordered. Unlike a superdreadnaught, the orbital fortress couldn't hope to run. He'd once sneaked up on an enemy fortress and blasted it from point-blank range, but it was unlikely that trick would work again. By now, the entire Empire would know which superdreadnaughts had fallen into rebel hands. “And transmit our demand for surrender.”
He waited as the signal pulsed out, wondering just what the enemy officers were thinking. It was possible they'd surrender at once, of course, or they might hold out for guarantees. Colin wouldn't hesitate to offer them, if asked. Like he’d told his crew, time and time again, accepting surrenders only to break them ensured that no one would surrender in future.
“No response,” the communications officer said. “I didn't even pick up an automated reply.”
Colin sighed. Exchanging missile fire with an orbital fortress was always dangerous. The fortresses packed more firepower than a superdreadnaught, while there was a small but very real danger that one of the missiles would strike the planet at a reasonable percentage of the speed of light. It would be utterly disastrous for the planet, all the more so as neither side in the war could hope to organise relief efforts in time to save even a small percentage of the population.
“Illuminate the targeting locks,” he ordered. The enemy wouldn't be able to miss that, even though it would also allow them to precisely target Colin’s ships. “And then prepare to fire.”
***
“Ira,” Bianca snapped, “why are you prepared to die? Honour before fucking reason?”
Ira stared at her, remembering long nights in their shared cabin. “What ... what do you mean?”
Bianca’s lip curled with contempt. “Commodore Ugly fled the moment he realised that this planet was under threat,” she sneered. “Are you going to fight and die for the Empire, which abandoned you here, or are you going to do the smart thing and surrender?”
“We have a duty,” Ira protested, cursing their relationship. And, for that matter, just how close in rank they were. He didn’t have the gravitas of an older commanding officer and knew it. “We can’t just surrender ...”
He shuddered, recalling some of the whispered tales that had reached their ears. The rebels were murderers, rapists and cannibals. Those who had been captured had been killed, those who had surrendered had been brutally raped and then killed ... there was no shortage of horror stories. But she was right. If they stood and fought, the battle wouldn't last very long at all. The superdreadnaughts were already targeting his hull openly. Twenty-seven superdreadnaughts could put out enough firepower to win the engagement very quickly.
“Please,” Bianca said. “You don’t deserve to die just because your superiors have abandoned you.”
Ira winced. His life wasn't the only one at risk. He didn't want Bianca to die, let alone any of the others on the station. They were his friends, even though he was their nominal commander. He didn't want them to die uselessly ...
He keyed the console. “This is Commander Dennison,” he said, shortly. “If I surrender, what terms are you prepared to offer?”
***
Colin checked the files before answering. Commander Dennison was young, barely twenty-five, although his file didn't suggest strong aristocratic connections or patronage. Maybe he'd just been lucky; Fortress Command wasn't as badly riddled with patronage as the Imperial Navy. But at that age ... he shouldn't have been in command at all. The file stated that Commodore Uzi should have been
in command.
“A question first,” he said. “What happened to Commodore Uzi?”
There was no mistaking the disgust in the young man’s voice. “He left shortly after we received word of Camelot,” Dennison said. “We haven’t seen him since.”
Fled like a scalded cat, Colin translated, mentally.
He smiled, then pressed on. “Marines will board your station and secure the vital points,” he said. “If you wish to join us, you will be welcome. If not, you will have the option of being shipped to an internment camp or transferred back to the Empire at the earliest opportunity. Anyone on the ground who wishes to leave with us will be provided with transport; anyone who wishes to remain can do so. My rather strong advice would be to leave.”
There was a pause. Commander Dennison said nothing.
“One other point,” Colin added. “I expect you to keep your surrender. If there is any attempt to trick my forces, ambush them or otherwise impede them in the performance of their duties they have full authority to use lethal force.”
“I understand,” Dennison said. “We won’t offer any resistance.”
He looked down at his console, then tapped a switch. “Launch the Marine shuttles,” he ordered. “I want that station in our hands by the end of the hour.”
***
Ira felt butterflies in his stomach as the two shuttles disengaged from the mass of enemy warships and headed towards the station. He'd often asked himself, when he'd been a young trainee, just what he would do if faced with a hopeless situation. But all of his dreams of a noble last stand had left out the simple fact that he wouldn't be alone. Bianca and all of the others were standing there with him – and they would die if the rebels destroyed the station.
He keyed his console, searching for appropriate words. His mouth felt dry; he had to swallow twice before he could speak. “I have surrendered the fortress to the rebels,” he said, shortly. Fortress Command was nowhere near as compartmentalised as the Imperial Navy. Even the lowest crewman knew that they were facing impossible odds. “They will be boarding us shortly. Everyone not on the command deck is to assemble in the lower shuttlebay, leaving weapons and anything that can be used as weapon behind.
“I have entered into the log,” he added, suiting actions to words, “that the decision to surrender was mine and mine alone. No action should be taken against any of you if you return to the Empire. The rebels have offered us a chance to choose where we go afterwards; I will not attempt to dictate your choice.”
He paused, searching for other words. “Don’t argue about this, please,” he concluded. “It isn't just our lives at stake.”
His hand fell off the console, closing the channel. Bianca gave him a long look, then a faintly reassuring smile. Ira remembered all the horror stories and shivered, praying that he hadn't made a dreadful mistake. One fourth of the crew was female. If the rumours were actually true, he might have condemned them to a fate worse than death.
On the display, the shuttles came closer and closer.
***
“All right, you apes,” Sergeant O’Neil snapped. “Remember what I told you – and don’t fuck up. I’ll kick the ass of anyone who fucks up, then the CO will discharge whatever’s left of you out an airlock. Do you understand me?”
Corporal Sidney Harris joined in the shouts of understanding. He’d grown up on a lawless asteroid in the Beyond, he’d killed his first man at the age of eight – and somehow the Sergeant still managed to intimidate him. But then, the Sergeant had taken all the new recruits into a large hall during their first training session and invited any of them who wanted to try and kick his ass to take their best shot. After four hulking bravos had been knocked down one by one, the new recruits had shut up and started to learn. Sidney had been lucky enough to be seen distinguishing himself when the imps had attacked Sanctuary Asteroid. It had earned him a promotion to Corporal and command of four privates.
He checked his assault rifle, then his armour, as the shuttle docked with the access hatch. It opened, allowing the Marines to flow into the station. Inside, it was deserted; the briefing had stated that the crew were currently in the shuttlebay, apart from two on the command deck. Sidney listened as the Sergeant barked orders, then followed him towards the command deck.
The interior of the station almost seemed eerie, compared to an asteroid that was over a hundred years old. Sidney had to snap at one of his men who seemed puzzled by the bare design, just before they reached the bridge. The hatch was already open, but the Marines advanced as if they expected an ambush. If the enemy were planning something, they wouldn't risk allowing the Marines to access the command network before springing the trap.
There were two people on the command deck, both absurdly young and unmarked compared to someone who had spent all his life in the Beyond. One of them was a young man, with a slightly unfinished face and a weak chin; the other was a dark-haired girl with violet eyes and an expression that suggested she wasn't as confident as she pretended. The Marines searched them both, then secured their hands and put them in the corner to wait while the techs took control of the station. Sidney angled to stay on the command deck, but the Sergeant detailed him and his men to join the teams searching the station from top to bottom. Twenty minutes later, it was declared secure.
“Escort the prisoners to the shuttles,” the Sergeant ordered, once Sidney returned to the command deck. “And well done.”
Sidney nodded, although he had his doubts. They’d faced no opposition, no one inclined to actually fight. The next time they boarded a station or a starship, someone might fight back. And then they would really be tested.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
***
Ira had been nervous even before the Marines entered the compartment and searched them both, gently but firmly. After their hands had been bound, he'd worried more ... until they were escorted down and into the shuttles, along with the rest of the crew. No one seemed hurt, although several of the younger crewmen looked worried. They'd all heard the rumours.
“You need to make up your minds soon,” the rebel who greeted them said, once they’d been transferred to another starship. “If you want to join us, you would be welcome. If you want to go back to the Empire, or go to an internment camp, it can be arranged. But you will have to make up your minds before we depart, or we’ll assume the camp.”
“I’ve already decided,” Bianca said. “I’d like to join you.”
Ira hesitated, then made up his mind.
***
“All forty of the fortress crew joined up,” Sergeant O’Neil said. “I guess they were unhappy about being abandoned and left to die.”
“Smart of them,” Colin said. He would have been astonished if any of them wanted to return to the Empire. They’d be blamed for not stopping an unstoppable foe. “And the people on the ground?”
“There’s a lot of complaints about the uplift,” Colonel Yamato reported, through the intercom. He didn't sound very happy with his lot. Securing a planet – even just the cities - took several divisions; Yamato had a regiment at best, none of which were well-trained. “The locals think we should just let the administrators be killed.”
Colin wasn't surprised. There were only a handful of worlds were the administrators were popular – and most of them were places so poor that there was little for the Empire to take. If the fortress hadn't been there, the administrators would have been lynched already. But he’d made the deal and he intended to stick to it.
“Tell the locals that we need to interrogate the bastards,” he said. It was true enough, although Colin would have been astonished if the administrators had known anything of more than fleeting interest. They'd been isolated ever since the System CO had fled, taking his only destroyer with him. “And then have them shipped to the camp.”
“Yes, sir,” Yamato said. “I ...”
He broke off as Colin’s console chimed. “Sir, this is Sanderson,” the tactical officer said. “We just picked up a
flicker burst – an exit burst.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of burst?”
“A corvette, I think,” Sanderson said. “She must have been lying doggo all this time, even before we arrived, just watching and waiting. And then she just jumped out.”
“Taking tactical information with her,” Colin said. The corvette would have been close enough to get an accurate count on how many ships were in his formation, although he’d been careful not to bring his entire fleet to Fairfax. “Interesting ...”
He shook his head. There was little they could do about it, not now. Besides, their course towards Morrison was alarmingly predicable in any case. The enemy would just have their suspicions confirmed. Colin had tried to think of alternatives, but they all involved giving the enemy more time to prepare.
“Remind everyone to be careful what they say in clear,” he ordered. Someone had clearly been thinking hard, which suggested an unwelcome level of competence. Were there any battle formations within range? “And then inform the fleet that we will be departing to the first waypoint in two hours. We don’t want to stay here any longer than strictly necessary.”
He closed the channel, then stared down at the display, not really seeing it. Just who was in command of the Empire’s forces – and how far were they prepared to go to win?
Chapter Eleven
“This is really quite unacceptable,” Lord Rothschild protested. “To see our networks destroyed in such a manner is worse than unacceptable. It is lethal.”
There was a dully mummer of agreement from some of the Family Heads. Tiberius couldn't help noticing that ones who agreed were the ones who held planets and property thousands of light years from the rebellion. They were all at risk, he knew, but the ones closer to the rebellion were more at risk than others. Not, in the end, that it would matter. If the Empire’s economy crashed, everyone would suffer. They wouldn't even be able to pay their Household Troops, let alone their small armies of servants.
Democracy's Right: Book 02 - Democracy's Might Page 10
