Authors: Christopher Nuttall
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Galactic Empire, #Military, #Space Fleet, #Space Marine, #Space Opera
The spy lay on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling. There didn’t seem to be any way out of the trap. The longer he delayed, the clearer it would become that he
was
delaying . . . and then his handlers would kill his sister, perhaps betraying him to the CIS as well. He’d hoped that something would happen that would save him from having to commit treason, but nothing had materialized. Maybe a missile would strike the ship, killing him and him alone, or he would be reassigned to a department where there was no hope of getting a message out without being detected. Nothing had happened . . . and now he was trapped.
It was easy enough to skim through the ship’s datanet, once one was allowed through the firewall . . . and, as a tactical officer, he was permitted access to almost every part of the ship’s computers. He knew where the captain intended to attack, he knew where she wanted to go next; he even knew where the fleet train was waiting, safely away from the squadron. And getting that information to the Theocracy wouldn’t be difficult . . .
Damned if I do
, he thought. It would be the first step into outright treason; no, he’d made that choice the moment he’d decided not to report the contact to the CIS.
And damned if I don’t
.
He closed his eyes in bitter pain, then opened them and reached for his datapad. Maybe someone would stumble across his work before it was too late . . . but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. He’d erase all evidence of his tampering as soon as his work was done. And then . . .
They find a use for the data, he thought. And hopefully everything will end.
“You know,” Midshipwoman Grace Hawthorne said, “one could say this system has potential.” “I suppose one could,” Lieutenant Lars Rasmussen said. “But you’d have to get rid of the occupying forces first.”
He nodded to himself coldly.
Mermaid
had probed the system carefully, very carefully, hunting for signs of enemy activity. Verdean wasn’t exactly Tyre or even Cadiz, but it wasn’t a groundhog system by any definition of the word. A handful of industrial nodes dating back to the UN, he thought, orbited Verdean itself, while an old-style cloudscoop drew HE3 from the gas giant. Judging by the handful of freighters orbiting the structure, Verdean produced much of the HE3 for the sector as well as its own requirements. He was mildly surprised the Theocracy had even left it intact, but maybe it wasn’t too surprising. They’d be able to keep a cloudscoop isolated from the remainder of the system with ease.
“Then set up a larger asteroid mining operation,” Grace added. “You could probably have a small-scale shipyard within five years, then start producing your own ships and start expanding further.”
“No doubt,” Lars agreed. “But that does still leave the problem of a large and powerful occupation force.”
He peered down at the passive sensors, frowning. There was nothing on Verdean I, as far as he could tell, but Verdean III—a Mars-type world—had a dozen radio sources on the planet’s surface and a small network of satellites orbiting it. An industrial base, or penal camp, or what? It didn’t
look
as though the Theocracy was attempting to terraform the world, but they might simply be choosing to use one of the longer ways to turn a dead world into a decent place to live. Or they didn’t
want
to terraform the planet. It wasn’t as if it would help the war effort.
“There’s relatively few signals coming from Verdean itself,” Grace added. “The dark side of the planet is . . . well,
dark
.”
She was right, Lars realized. A spacer looking down on Tyre’s dark side would have known the planet was heavily industrialized, if only because he or she saw the planet’s lights blurring into a glowing mass. But Verdean was dark; only a handful of lights could be seen, concentrated around the major cities. He hadn’t seen anything like it, outside a pastoral world where anything more advanced than the spinning jenny was banned; it suggested, strongly, that the Theocracy was crushing the life out of the locals. The sight sent cold shivers running down his spine.
“Make a note of all the sources,” he ordered. He swore under his breath as two fast-moving icons appeared on the display, zipping around the planet on patrol. “Gunboats?
”
“
Looks that way,” Grace said. “No idea what they’re doing here.”
“Causing trouble,” Lars muttered. The Theocracy needed to work up its ships and squadrons, just like the Commonwealth, but he wouldn’t have expected them to do it in an occupied system. Maybe they had been having problems with pirates and wanted to make a show of strength. “That’s an unexpected complication.”
“I can’t see a carrier,” Grace said after a moment. “They must be based on one of the orbiting stations.”
“Probably,” Lars said. It wasn’t common to use gunboats for system patrol, at least in the Commonwealth, but the Theocracy might have evolved a different doctrine. “One large orbital station, a number of automated weapons platforms, and now a gunboat squadron.”
“Maybe more than one,” Grace said. “We don’t know anything about their deployment patterns.”
Lars frowned. “True,” he conceded, finally. If the Theocracy had copied the UN’s doctrine, they’d have somewhere between nine and twelve gunboats assigned to a squadron. On the other hand, the UN hadn’t fought a proper war until the Breakaway conflict and it had lost so comprehensively that it had never had a chance to reevaluate its doctrine. “We’ll have to assume the worst.”
He took a long look at the planet, then sighed. “Take us back out of the system,” he ordered after a moment. They hadn’t picked up any hint of early-warning satellites, but passive sensors probably
wouldn’t
until it was too late. “We’ll slip back into hyperspace once we’re out of sensor range.”
“Aye, Captain,” Grace said.
“Home,” Jean-Luc said. Looking at the holographic image, he couldn’t help feeling a trace of awe. He’d never seen his homeworld from orbit, not even when he’d been taken prisoner and transported to the penal colony. The Theocracy had shoved him and his fellow prisoners into boxes and left them there until they’d finally reached their new home. Several of them had died along the way, too weak or hungry to last long enough to survive. Now, he was back . . .
Perrier coughed. “Can you break through the defenses
?”
“Yes,” Captain Falcone said. “We’ll have to lay waste to the system’s industry, though.”
Jean-Luc swallowed. “We
need
that industry!
”
“
The Theocracy controls it,” Captain Falcone said. Her voice was gentle, but there was no
give
in it at all. “We’ll help you to rebuild after liberation, I promise. But until then, we cannot allow the Theocracy to continue to use it against us.”
“And there’s no hope of preventing them from retaking control of the high orbitals,” Perrier added. “There would be no time to build up our defenses before we lost control, again.”
He sighed. “Do what you need to do, Captain,” he said. “We’ll send you the bill later.”
The captain smiled. “We’ll leave the freighters back here,” she said. “The clock will start ticking the moment we enter the system, so have your people ready to move in and disembark as soon as possible. I estimate we will have less than three days before the Theocracy responds to the attack.”
Jean-Luc swallowed. He’d thought himself ready to return to the fray, but now . . .
“I understand,” Perrier said. “We will be ready.”
“Good,” the captain said. “We’ll transfer you over to the freighters, then jump into the system; we’ll come back to get you once the battle is over. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Perrier said.
“
Thundergod
is to take out the cloudscoop and any freighters within range,” Kat ordered as she took her command chair. “Inform Captain Bannister that I want her to time her attack so that it goes in at the same moment as ours.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said.
“There is to be no attempt to capture the cloudscoop,” Kat added. “I just want it smashed. If she can take out the freighters first, without compromising her ability to deal with the cloudscoop, she is to do so, but the cloudscoop is her priority target.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said again.
Kat nodded, then settled back in her command chair. They’d gone through everything
Mermaid
had brought back with a fine-tooth comb and she knew they
should
have the advantage, but it was quite possible that something had been missed. Perhaps there was an enemy cruiser squadron lying doggo, ready to spring a trap, or even a whole formation of gunboats. Kat knew, from bitter experience, that gunboats were less effective against ships and squadrons that were prepared for them, but they’d still be a nasty opponent. Her formation’s point defense datanet simply wasn’t up to modern standards.
She pushed the thought aside, savagely. “Mr. XO,” she said formally, “is my command ready for operations?
”
“
Yes, Captain,” the XO said. “All stations report ready.”
Kat sucked in a long breath. She’d considered sneaking up on Verdean, just as she’d done to the penal colony, but too much could go wrong. Verdean had too many starships in orbit, too many sensors probing space for her to feel comfortable about slipping into pointblank range without being detected. No, she’d have to launch a more conventional attack and hope it was sufficient to brush the enemy’s defenses aside before they could be turned on the planet and slaughter the civilian population.
“We will proceed with Attack Pattern Delta,” she said firmly. “Inform the squadron.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said. “Attack Pattern Delta, confirmed.”
Kat nodded, feeling the tension rising within her chest. “Helm,” she ordered. “Set course for Verdean.”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said.
They were already holding station within hyperspace, a bare handful of light days from the system itself. They’d be on their target within minutes, slamming out of hyperspace . . . and, perhaps, coming under fire the moment they showed themselves. Hell, it
was
vaguely possible that they’d
already
been detected, thanks to the oddities of hyperspace and the sheer number of ships making their way in and out of the system.
Mermaid
had reported no obvious attempt to prepare for an attack, but the Theocracy could be trying to lure them into a trap.
“Opening gates in twenty seconds,” Weiberg reported.
“Stand by all weapons,” Kat ordered sharply. “Fire on my mark.”
The gateway blossomed open in front of the flotilla, revealing a blue-green world surrounded by tactical icons. Kat stared, watching the stations rapidly taking on shape and form; the world looked surrounded, trapped by a web of steel. But it was an illusion, she knew; it was unlikely that more than a couple of the orbiting stations were armed. The dangers of a serf revolt were just too great.
“Fire,” she ordered.
Lightning
belched missiles: a dozen targeted on the orbital weapons platforms, the remainder aimed at the largest orbital station. The enemy had more time to prepare this time, even if it was just scant seconds; the Theocracy’s electronic servants took control of the point defense and hastily opened fire, trying to swat down as many missiles as they could before they reached their targets. Kat smiled coldly—the orbital weapons platforms were aimed at the planet, not threats coming in from outside—as her missiles started to strike home. A dozen orbital platforms died in the first few seconds of combat.
“Enemy station is launching missiles,” Roach snapped. “They’re targeting the patrol boats.”
“Cover them with point defense, but keep firing,” Kat ordered. It was smart of the enemy to target her smaller ships, the ones lacking any real defenses. They might not know it, but they were weakening her ability to scout out new targets. “If any of the other stations open fire, target them too.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said. New icons flashed up on the tactical display. “Gunboats inbound; I say again, gunboats inbound.”
“Target them as soon as they enter range,” Kat ordered. There was no hope of evading them, not when they were easily twice as fast in realspace as any of her ships. Memories of them slamming antimatter missiles into 7th Fleet rose up in front of her eyes, chilling her to the bone. But 6th Fleet had been ready for them. “Continue firing . . .”
The enemy station’s shields flickered, then died. A missile punched through the hull and detonated inside the structure, destroying its integrity and blowing it into a cloud of debris that scattered in all directions. Most of the debris would eventually be pulled into the planet’s atmosphere and burn up, but some of the pieces were large enough to survive the fall through the atmosphere and hit the ground, doing real damage. She made a mental note to ensure they were broken into smaller pieces before time ran out, then looked back at the display. Seven gunboats were bearing down on
Juno
, firing constantly. They didn’t seem to be armed with antimatter missiles, she noted, but nuclear warheads were quite bad enough.
“
Juno
is taking heavy damage,” the XO reported. Two gunboats died, picked off by the point defense, but the remainder kept firing. “Captain . . .”
Kat winced as
Juno
vanished from the display. Seventeen officers and crewmen, some reservists, some conscripted from civilian life, some volunteers hoping to get on the fast track to command . . . they hadn’t stood a chance. There was no hope of picking up survivors, not when the Theocracy had a habit of taking potshots at lifeboats. All they could do was avenge the dead.
“
Juno
is gone,” Roach reported.
“Continue firing,” Kat ordered harshly. One of the automated weapons platforms was swinging back to cover the planet, readying itself to target population centers. Another launched a spread of missiles at
Lightning
, all of which were swatted out of space before they could strike the heavy cruiser. The platform itself died a moment later. “Take out the remaining weapons platforms,
now
.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
“
Henry Crux
is under heavy attack,” the XO warned. “She’s taking a beating.”
“Move up
Mermaid
and
Max Mercury
to cover her,” Kat ordered. Only three gunboats were left, but their crews were good. They’d even bolted missiles to their hulls . . . had they expected an attack, or had they merely sought to increase their mobile firepower? She would have to ask, assuming they took any prisoners. “Order
Henry Crux
to prepare to jump out if she cannot hold her position.”
The last gunboat flickered, then vanished from the display. “All enemy gunboats have been destroyed,” Roach reported. “The final weapons platform is under attack now.”
Kat nodded, then watched—feeling a cold wellspring of delight— as the last platform exploded into atoms. Maybe there were nuclear warheads on the surface, concealed within the cities, but at least the occupation force would no longer be able to call down fire from heaven. Unless, of course, any of the remaining stations were armed. None of them had actually fired a shot, at least not yet, but she knew better than to take that for granted.
“Picking up a gateway here,” Roach said, sharply. “Tactical computers think it’s a courier boat, leaving the system.”
“Understood,” Kat said, grimly. The clock had always been ticking, but now she knew the enemy would be alerted soon. Courier boats were the fastest things in hyperspace for a reason. It would be nice to hope that something unfortunate would happen to her in transit, but she knew better than to count on it. “Put a timer on the main display.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
Kat thought fast. The enemy presumably knew that help would be on the way, but would they try to hold out? If they thought they didn’t have a hope of escaping their own superiors, they might fight anyway, even though the battle was hopeless. Better to die quickly than slowly at the hands of the Theocratic Inquisition. Kat had seen a couple of their files detailing the precise way to handle sinners, defeatists, and traitors, and she had to admit they
did
tend to discourage surrender. But she had to try.
“Send the surrender demand to the orbital stations,” she ordered. The demand did include an offer to take future POWs back to the Commonwealth, well away from any possibility of recapture, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be believed. “Refine targeting solutions for enemy bases on the ground.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
“I’ve identified several hundred enemy bases on the ground,” Roach said. New icons popped up as the display centered on the planet itself. “Most of them look like military fortresses, Captain; there doesn’t seem to be much else.”
“Target them with KEWs, then open fire,” Kat ordered. Perrier and his men had told her about the Theocracy’s attempt to open schools to teach their religion, but she was damned if she was dropping KEWs on a school. There would be too much collateral damage merely from targeting the military bases. “Take as many of them out as possible.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said. The squadron wasn’t set up for planetary bombardment, but it had enough KEWs to shatter the Theocracy’s grip on the world below. “Bombs away.”
“Picking up a message from the orbital stations,” Linda said. “There’s been an uprising, Captain. Most of the overseers are dead. The crews would like to surrender.”
“Inform them that Marines are on the way to take control,” Kat ordered. The crews would have to be taken away from the planet, unless they were determined to stay. She hoped not, if only because they had skills the Commonwealth needed. “They are to prepare themselves for transport once the orbital stations are under control.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
“A number of freighters are also making their escape,” Roach said. “They’re fleeing in all directions.”
Kat shrugged. “Target any that come within range and destroy them if they refuse to surrender, but otherwise let them go,” she ordered shortly. She would have liked to capture or destroy every freighter in the system, yet it would be impossible to take them
all
out without causing too many problems. “Dispatch
Mermaid
back to the freighters. It’s time for Perrier and his men to return home.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
“We fired off sixty percent of our missiles,” the XO said over the private channel. “Two of the light cruisers practically shot themselves dry.”
“We’ll have to reload,” Kat said. She doubted the enemy would only send a couple of destroyers to deal with her, not when they had two superdreadnought squadrons on hand. It was unlikely her own squadron would be able to defeat whoever turned up to investigate. “Send the empty ships back to the RV point to reload, then return here.”
“Aye, Captain,” the XO said.
Roach cleared his throat. “Captain, I have the first reports,” he said. “Eighty percent of our targets on the ground were smashed. The enemy command network is in tatters.”
And the planet will be falling into chaos
, Kat added mentally. She couldn’t help thinking of Cadiz and the chaos that had run loose in the hours between the Commonwealth’s retreat and the Theocracy’s invasion.
Unless the resistance manages to establish some order before it’s too late
.
“If you detect any more enemy concentrations, hit them,” she ordered. “However, if you make contact with any of the resistance leaders, warn them we cannot stay in the system indefinitely. The Theocracy
will
be back and they
will
want revenge.”
“I could broadcast a message on an open channel,” Linda offered. “They’d be sure to be monitoring the channels, even if they’re not daring to broadcast.”
“Do it,” Kat ordered. “Everything else will have to wait for the freighters to arrive.”