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

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The problem,” Daria interrupted, “is that the crewmen on this ship are not imps. They will not stand for any form of ... rigorous interrogation.”

  Colin nodded. The Imperial Navy’s solution to the problem would be to interrogate all the possible suspects, using truth drugs and lie detectors – and direct brain access, if they had some reason to focus on a particular suspect. But Colin couldn't afford to use such methods, not when it would start a mutiny. Hell, Colin knew just how bitterly such methods were resented by Imperial Navy crewmen. Why should the Beyonders be any different?

  He looked over at Anderson. “Can't you isolate which unit was used to send the message?”

  “The message was wiped completely from the datanet,” Anderson admitted. “If the recorders we added hadn't been independent from the datanet, they would have been wiped too and we wouldn't have had a clue that we had a security problem.”

  “Very well,” Colin said. “But you can detect it if another such message is sent?”

  “Yes,” Anderson said. “Now we know what to look for, we can detect the hidden programming being accessed. And we can probably isolate the sender.”

  Colin smiled. “Then we keep the whole thing as quiet as possible,” he said. “We will need at least three weeks before we can resume the offensive. That should give us long enough to figure out how to duplicate the spy’s messages and send a few of our own.”

  “Perhaps,” Anderson said. “The message was enciphered. It may take months to crack the code.”

  “Or it might have been nothing more than gibberish,” Daria pointed out. “All that mattered is that it came from this ship.”

  “True,” Anderson agreed.

  Colin tapped the table. “Right now, we need to focus on repairing our ships and resuming the offensive,” he said. “Vincent” – he looked over at Anderson – “keep the search quiet, but see if you can identify the spy. Once we’re ready to resume the offensive, we will reconsider our plans.”

  He looked around the table. “This is a complication we didn't expect,” he admitted. “But, in hindsight, we should have expected it. We knew Imperial Intelligence worked hard to riddle the Beyond with spies and informers. The bastards simply got lucky.”

  Daria nodded. “And not all of them had files on Camelot,” she said.

  Colin met her eyes in a moment of silent understanding. Imperial Intelligence had maintained files on Camelot, files which had identified a dozen spies within the Beyond who were primed to report back whenever the various underground movements managed to get organised. One of them had been the treasurer of a specific underground movement, who – thankfully – had not had a chance to report back before Camelot had fallen. Another had been a well-known bartender. Both of them had been trusted by the Beyonders.

  “We will not fail again,” Colin said. “Dismissed.”

  Daria nodded and strode out, followed by Mariko. The others followed, stepping through the hatch until Colin and Anderson were the only two left in the compartment. Colin turned to look at the security officer as the hatch hissed closed and quirked his eyebrows.

  “There's something I didn't want to bring up in front of everyone else,” Anderson said. “My analysts have been plodding through the recordings of the battle.”

  Colin nodded. It was rare for intelligence analysts to produce anything immediately useful during a battle, but post-battle analysis often revealed useful facts that could be taken into account during future operations. But then, the truly important fact was one Colin had already deduced. The enemy CO was crafty and enjoyed an unprecedented freedom of operation. Whoever he was, Colin knew, he had fought well and given the rebels their first real defeat.

  “This included a great deal of enemy message traffic,” Anderson continued. “Much of it was useless, of course, but a couple of interesting factoids did emerge. Sir ... the enemy commander is Admiral Wachter.”

  Colin cursed his own oversight. How the hell had he missed that? But then, Wachter had been removed from his last post on active service for daring to question the Imperial Navy’s personnel management schemes. And that had been before Colin had even joined the Imperial Navy.

  “He’s a living legend,” Colin mused. “Why him?”

  “He is minor aristocracy,” Anderson pointed out. “They might consider him a safer bet than someone with no aristocratic ties at all.”

  “Or they might think they would be empowering a second Empress,” Colin countered.

  “Or they might think it’s time to shit or get off the pot,” Anderson said, crudely. “What does it matter, Colin, if the Thousand Families are destroyed by us or another Empress takes power? They’re still screwed.”

  “And they might manage to beat another Empress,” Colin mused. He shook his head. “He does live up to his legend, doesn't he?”

  “Yes, sir,” Anderson agreed.

  Colin smiled, then looked up at the star chart. Morrison was still glowing an angry violent red. And with Admiral Wachter in command, who was really surprised? But Colin couldn't afford to allow the man’s reputation to blind him ...

  Next time, he promised himself, it will be different.

  Chapter Thirty

  There was little significant about Wolf 359. It was a red dwarf star, nearly eight light years from Earth, surrounded by a medium-sized asteroid field and a couple of rogue comets. The sheer uselessness of the system, at least when it came to housing large numbers of humans, had contributed to the Sandakan Corporation’s decision – back before the Thousand Families had been established – to build its primary industrial facility in the system. It might force them to ship their products to other star systems, but it was theirs. Even after the Thousand Families had taken control of the human race, Wolf 359 was still their private fiefdom.

  “Impressive,” Cordova muttered, his tone – for once – serious. “Anyone would think they were worried about being attacked.”

  “Anyone would be quite right,” Commander Patrick Jones pointed out, dryly. “An attack here would be disastrous.”

  The Sandakan Family was one of the most powerful of the Thousand Families, but they had invested almost solely in starship production rather than spreading out their portfolio. It was why they continuously pressed for greater shipping contracts for their shipping lines, he suspected, and why they were so nervous about damage to Wolf 359. Indeed, their investment was so concentrated that it made him wonder if they too weren't suffering from a cash shortage. It was quite possible that Roosevelt wasn't the only one of the Thousand Families in danger of bankruptcy.

  But Wolf 359 was very secure. A hundred shipyard structures, including a giant Class-III shipyard, hung in orbit around the red star, surrounded by over two hundred industrial nodes and a hundred heavily-armed fortresses. And they were backed up by dozens of starships, including a superdreadnaught squadron that seemed more active than any of the squadrons they’d observed on their way from Jackson’s Folly to Wolf 359. A direct attack against the shipyard would be futile.

  “It would put them at death’s door,” Cordova agreed. It was odd how he seemed to understand the Thousand Families, although most Imperial Navy officers had at least a passing familiarity with how the system worked. “Let's see if we can open it for them, shall we?”

  He grinned at his own joke – as if it wasn't from a well-known piece of public entertainment – and then turned to face his crew. “Have you reprogrammed the flicker drive?”

  “Aye, sir,” the engineer said. “And installed the replacement systems. But it will be risky ...”

  “I know,” Cordova said. “But remember, risk is our business.”

  Patrick winced. There was one obvious weakness to the whole structure, one that Cordova had gleefully pointed out as soon as they’d started looking at the reports from the stealthed drones. Indeed, it was so obvious that Patrick had racked his brains trying to understand how it could be a trap. But it seemed that the Sandakan Family had never considered just how crazy some of
their enemies could be. The system had never been threatened, not even during the First Interstellar War. They’d grown lax ... and careless.

  Cordova stood and moved over to his command chair. “Power up the drives,” he ordered. “We jump in ten minutes.”

  Patrick took his seat and braced himself. The Imperial Navy would have recoiled in horror from what Cordova had in mind. Even the most idiotic Admiral would have had second thoughts. But Cordova had seen the possibilities and started to outline his plan before Patrick could think of any proper objections. And his crew were just going along with it ...

  He shook his head in disbelief as the drives started to power up. Whatever happened, they were going to make history. He just hoped that they survived the experience.

  ***

  “The gunboats sent a message, sir,” Lieutenant Lester reported. “They found nothing.”

  Commodore Amir Sandakan nodded, sourly. Wolf 359 was never visited, save by the family’s starships and the occasional smuggler who thought he could slip into the shipyard and make a few new contacts. Normally, they were chased away quickly by the security patrols, if they didn't think better of it after looking at the brooding fortresses. Besides, the Sandakan Family paid the best rates in the Empire. There were few discontented workers in the massive complex and those who were openly discontented tended to leave quickly.

  “Tell them to return,” he ordered. The brief detection of a flicker pulse might have been nothing more than a glitch ... or a starship, jumping out instead of jumping in. Maybe someone had tried to sneak into the system, then withdrawn as covertly as they had arrived. “We can run a tracking exercise on them as they come.”

  “Understood, sir,” Lester said.

  Amir turned and looked up at the massive display. There had been no way to avoid realising that Wolf 359 had been slowing down for years, ever since the Empire had stopped producing new superdreadnaughts. Indeed, demand for smaller starships and commercial starships had been falling too. The more he'd looked at the figures, the more he’d started to realise that the family was on the verge of serious problems. It took a major investment to keep Wolf 359 operating and that investment might no longer be forthcoming ...

  But Jupiter is gone, he thought, wryly. And the rebels might ensure we get more contracts.

  Alarms sounded, cutting into his thoughts. “Commodore,” Lester said, panic evident in her voice, “enemy contacts! Right on top of us!”

  Amir stared in disbelief. Someone had flickered right into the shipyard!

  “Red alert,” he ordered, numbly. New icons had appeared on the display, right in the centre of the complex. The giant explosion that had blown one industrial node to hell suggested that one of the enemy starships had interpenetrated, flickering into space already occupied by the node. That almost never happened, at least outside simulations. “Order the starships to intercept the intruders.”

  But he knew that it was already too late.

  ***

  “Mother’s Milk is gone,” the tactical officer reported. “Everyone else made it.”

  “Open fire,” Cordova ordered. “Blast everything in range with energy weapons, reserve the external racks for the defenders.”

  Patrick shook his head. They'd jumped into a crowded region of space and survived the experience, only losing one ship. And now, with the shipyard facilities at point-blank range, they could be ripped apart with ease. Random Numbers opened fire with her energy weapons, punching through the weak shields and setting off a chain of fission explosions that started to rip the structure apart. The shipyard was designed to be taken apart and reassembled quickly; it couldn't even hope to stand up to such a barrage. He caught a brief glimpse of a half-constructed light cruiser blown into flaming debris, before it was gone.

  “Enemy gunboats closing in,” the tactical officer said. “Enemy superdreadnaughts are on their way.”

  “Keep our distance from the superdreadnaughts, if possible,” Cordova ordered. Their immediate targets had been wiped out, leaving them to advance towards the secondary set of targets. “Lock missiles on the asteroids, then fire at my command.”

  Patrick gave him a sharp glance. Launching missiles at the asteroids meant that Cordova had given up on the idea of engaging the defenders, although they couldn't hope to win a running battle. But, in the long term, taking out the shipyard was much more important than taking out nine superdreadnaughts and their escorts. The superdreadnaughts couldn't be replaced quickly if the Empire had to rebuild the shipyard first.

  “Missiles locked, sir,” the tactical officer said.

  “Fire,” Cordova ordered.

  Patrick felt a dull glow of triumph as the missiles screamed towards their targets. The giant asteroids and industrial nodes had no point defence, even though the gunboats altered course rapidly and gave chase in hopes of overrunning the missiles before they struck home. One by one, the asteroids shattered, scattering their contents out into space. He felt a moment’s pity for the inhabitants, many of them skilled workers, but he knew they were too dangerous to leave alive. It would take the Empire years to rebuild the workforce, assuming they bothered to try. Ignorant workers, the Empire believed, were happy workers. But they were also much less effective.

  “Incoming fire,” the tactical officer snapped. “The fortresses have a lock on us.”

  “Deploy ECM drones,” Cordova ordered. The enemy CO had evidently forgotten any concerns he had about firing shipkillers into the heart of the structure. But then, most of the shipyard was already gone. “And keep powering up the drive.”

  “Two minutes, sir,” the helmsman reported. “Taking evasive action ...”

  Patrick braced himself as the fortresses went to rapid fire. If the enemy overwhelmed them before the flicker drive powered up, they were dead. But the enemy had already lost the shipyard, to all intents and purposes. It would take years for them to rebuild, assuming they could afford it ...

  ***

  Amir watched helplessly as his worst nightmare developed in front of him. The shipyards were fragile structures; one by one, they were ripped apart by the demon-spawned enemy fleet. Beyond them, the asteroids were tougher, but not tough enough to stand up to shipkiller missiles. The workforce that kept the shipyard going was being slaughtered, right in front of his eyes. And there was nothing he could do to stop the slaughter.

  “Sir,” Lester said, “we have clear locks on their hulls ...”

  “Keep firing,” Amir ordered. But he knew it would be futile. Even if the entire enemy fleet was wiped out, it wouldn't make up for the destruction they’d inflicted. The shipyard would need years to replace. “And order the gunboats to close to minimum range.”

  ***

  Random Numbers shuddered, violently, as a missile struck home.

  “Dashing Dave is gone,” Patrick snapped, looking down at his console. “Thunderbird is losing shields, rapidly.”

  “Flicker drive powered up,” the helmsman reported.

  “Get us out of here,” Cordova snapped.

  Patrick braced himself. A second later, the universe flickered and faded away to nothingness ... and then reformed in front of him. The pain struck him a second later, a blow so powerful he was convinced his heart was about to fail. He slumped in his chair, stunned by the force ... and he wasn't the only one. Red alarms were sounding, but it was so hard to care. Helplessly, he slid into darkness ...

  ***

  “They’re gone, sir,” Lester reported. “They all jumped out.”

  “They must have disengaged all of the safety interlocks,” Amir muttered. He knew more than a little about interstellar drives; the rebels had to have modified their systems extensively to allow them to jump twice in such quick succession. Chances were that one or more of the ships wouldn't make it through the jump intact. “Tell the defenders to stand down, then report in to me.”

  He watched, in numb horror, as the final toll scrolled up on his display. All, but one of the shipyards had been blasted to smoulde
ring rubble. Nine of the ten asteroids had been destroyed, taking their inhabitants with them. Hundreds of thousands of workers and their families were dead. And over seventy percent of the industrial nodes had been wiped out, shattering their ability to repair the damage without calling for help from Earth. All in all, he realised, the rebels had scored a stunning victory.

  We got lazy, he thought. Back when the shipyard had been established, the flicker drive hadn't been anything like so accurate. No one had really realised just how vulnerable the shipyard was to a determined or suicidal attacker. Hell, the family had worked hard to keep the system as isolated as possible. But now the illusion of security had been torn aside and the shipyard was in ruins.

  “Prepare a courier boat,” he ordered. The Sandakan, the Family Head, would have to be informed as soon as possible. God alone knew what he'd do. The more he thought about it, the more Amir realised that the attack had been utterly disastrous. If the family couldn't meet its obligations, it would very rapidly start to follow the Roosevelt Family into collapse – and ruin. “And prepare a complete report on the damage.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lester said.

  He’d failed, Amir knew. Twenty years of experience with the Imperial Navy’s Fortress Command, fifteen more with the Sandakan Household Troops ... and he'd failed, completely. And his failure hadn't cost the family a starship, or a single industrial node, but everything they owned. Somehow, he was sure that the other investments wouldn't be enough to make up the losses. The entire family was on the edge of absolute ruin.

  Cold logic told him that the flaw in the defences had been there since the start, that there was little that could be done about it save for moving the entire shipyard to another star system. But somehow cold logic didn't reassure him. If he'd thought about it, he could have installed additional weapons, even mounting them on the shipyard structures themselves. He knew just how badly he’d failed the family ...

  “The courier boat is ready,” Lester said.