He paused, feeling the weight of the squadron pressing down on him. A crewman had died when a shield generator had exploded too close to him, slamming his body hard against a bulkhead and rendering him a mass of blood and flesh. His coffin was closed and sealed. Another crewwoman had died when a burst of energy flared through the ship, vaporising her head and leaving the rest of her surprisingly intact. Her coffin, too, was sealed.
“They died upholding the values they believed in and we are diminished because of their deaths,” he said. It was hard, so hard, to choose the right words. “We — we who have chosen to seek to reform the Empire — feel now that we have lost something truly important, people who believed in our cause and gave their all so that the cause could go on. In their name we will not fail, for to do so means that they have died in vain. Their names will be remembered forever as the ones who died in order that our dream might live.”
He closed his eyes for a long second of silent meditation, as laid down in regulations, and then nodded to the drummer. The drummer started to tap his instrument, a long slow beat that had never failed to send a chill down Colin’s spine. At each high point, a casket was ejected into space, heading towards the local star. They would be lost within the vastness of space until they finally hit the star and vaporised. Very few Imperial Navy crewmen, even those who came from the Thousand Families, were ever buried in any other manner. Those who lived in space died in space.
“May they rest in peace,” Colin concluded, once the final casket had been launched. The watchers echoed him. “They will not be forgotten.”
Two weeks later, the superdreadnaughts were finally ready to move, accompanied by a small fleet of ships from the various rebel forces. The arsenal ships — the key to the operation — looked unremarkable compared to the other ships, but Colin hoped that that would keep the Empire from looking too closely at them. His other surprises should help with that, or so he hoped. Far too many devices had never been tested in combat.
“All ships, this is the Admiral,” he said, as he took his command chair. He’d insisted on running through full tests before signing off on the repair work, but there had been no errors. The Geeks did good work, which was more than he could saw for many Imperial Navy shipyards. The contractors were often more interested in making money than in doing a good job. “Prepare to jump.”
He settled back in his command chair. Whatever else happened, the die was about to be cast. Either they won, or they lost. There were no other options.
“Jump,” he ordered.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Where is she?”
Penny watched as Percival strode around his quarters, repeating the same question time and time again. It had been nearly three weeks since they had expected to hear from the battlecruisers they’d dispatched to attack the rebel base, even if it was just a report of a deserted star system and a piece of misinformation that Imperial Intelligence had swallowed hook, line and sinker. Percival had gathered a powerful force for the execution of Operation Purge, yet he couldn’t deploy the fleet into the Beyond until he knew for sure that the rebel leadership was in disarray and there were few prospects of a renewed offensive against the Empire.
“I’m sure she’s on her way back now,” Penny said, as soothingly as she could. The truth was that she was worried too, for the battlecruisers were dangerously overdue. Perhaps their commander had discovered the location of additional rebel bases and moved to attack them, or perhaps there was a simpler — and less pleasant — explanation. The battlecruisers had encountered the rebel superdreadnaughts and had been destroyed. “She is a reliable officer.”
“Yes, she is, unlike some,” Percival said tightly, scowling as he glared towards the sector display hovering in the centre of the compartment. His paranoia had grown to terrifying heights over the last few days. He’d started reshuffling his command staff, moving officers from one post to another, while combining his two superdreadnaught squadrons into one overwhelmingly powerful force. Using superdreadnaughts to deal with the average rebel ship was like using an atomic bomb to swat a single man, yet he seemed impervious to logic and reason. “No one can be trusted.”
Penny held herself composed, despite the shiver that ran down her spine. How long would it take for Percival’s paranoia to lead him to conclude that she was a threat, that she’d been conspiring with his rival… or perhaps, even, that she intended to lead the lower decks in a mutiny of her own. It would be suicidal, with so many Blackshirts on the command station, yet Percival might believe that she intended to try. His ranting about how the universe was conspiring against him, striving to deny him his rightful place, was growing ever more extreme. He had barely touched her in two weeks.
At one time, she would have been grateful, for even the merest touch of his hand left her feeling unclean, no matter how long she spent in the shower. Now… she couldn’t help, but view it as an ominous development, a sign of his growing paranoia. If he had decided that he no longer wanted her, how long would it be before she found herself exiled to a remote mining station, or simply killed outright? After all, Percival had dispatched Commander Walker to a remote patrol base and look how that had turned out.
“She’ll be back,” Penny said, as gently as she could. “Would you like a drink or perhaps even some other…?”
The alarm sounded before she could complete her sentence. It wasn’t the standard alarm, but one warning of incoming enemy starships, one that had never been sounded outside of drills and exercises. Percival was on his feet at once, grabbing for the white beret that technically should only belong to the commander of a squadron of starships, and heading for the hatch. Penny followed him, surprised at his reaction, before realising that part of him had feared the worst. Commander Walker wouldn’t die that easily. Poor Percival was tormented by nightmares of the monster he’d created, the one that could tear down the place he’d created for himself, even in death.
She followed him through the secured corridors — pausing long enough to nod to the Blackshirts and Household Troops on duty — and into the command centre. The staff were a little disorganised — Percival had broken up the working teams and reconfigured them, seemingly at random — but at least they knew what they were doing. A hundred red icons hovered in the main display, advancing towards Camelot. The rebels weren’t even trying to hide.
“Status report,” Percival ordered, as he took the command chair. He’d had it made especially for him and it reassembled a throne more than anything else. Penny considered it to be in very poor taste, particularly the carvings the artisan had worked into the metal. “What has the bastard brought to the party?”
The Duty Officer turned, unable to quite hide the flinch when he saw Percival. It wasn’t too surprising. Over the last few weeks, Percival had been a looming presence in the background, even though he’d hardly spent any time in the command centre before then. After all, who would dare to attack Camelot? There were nine battle stations and hundreds of automated platforms covering the Imperial Navy’s repair facilities… and that didn’t even count the fleet Percival had been assembling for Operation Purge. The rebels might not have known it, but they’d jumped right into five-to-one odds.
Her lips twitched as she stood behind Percival. The rebels clearly made a habit of running tactical surveys on every system they attacked first — as doctrine suggested — and they would almost certainly know that Percival had additional ships and defences. Their attack, therefore, was suicidal unless they’d come up with something new, but what? It struck her, suddenly, that the battlecruisers might have run into something they couldn’t handle, something new. The Empire feared the Geeks, feared them enough to order them executed on sight rather than even trying to exploit what they’d developed, and Imperial Intelligence had insisted that the Geeks were part of the rebellion.