By her off-hand calculations, the shipping in Sector 117 was disappearing at an alarming rate, damaging the ties that held the sector together. What would happen then? There was no way to know for sure, but some of the planets simply couldn’t feed themselves, which would result in mass starvation. At least the rebels hadn’t been targeting cloudscoops, although that might change in a hurry. A shortage of HE-3 would ensure that interstellar shipping ground to a halt. And what would Percival do then?
She looked up as the door chime rang, insistently. Percival strode over to his desk and slapped his hand hard down on the release, opening the hatch. William Derbyshire entered and blinked owlishly at Percival, as if he were a mild-mannered professor rather than Imperial Intelligence’s Head of Station. Percival seemed to calm down instantly; he might have been the Sector Commander, but a complaint from Imperial Intelligence would result in his demotion and transfer to the other side of the Empire.
“Ah, Admiral,” Derbyshire said. He took a seat without being invited and pulled a sealed datachip out of his pocket, opening it with his thumbprint and inserting it into the desktop processor. “There has been something of a development.”
He looked up as the symbol of Imperial Intelligence appeared on the display. “We have been tapping all of our assets in the Beyond to attempt to locate the rebels,” he said. “It was not an easy task. The Beyond is a very paranoid place and even those who are well-known in the community don’t know everything. Indeed, those who are well-known may know the least, because they’re easy for everyone to find. The people maintain their privacy and mind their own business…”
“Sounds like paradise,” Percival growled, impatiently. Derbyshire smiled, indulgently. “What did one of your tame mouthpieces find?”
“It would have to be a tame ear,” Derbyshire said, absently. Penny realised that he was enjoying mocking Percival, or making him wait before he uncovered his secret. “We only use mouthpieces to spread lies and propaganda throughout the Beyond. We have been spreading propaganda about the rebels, but alas — the Beyond doesn’t seem to believe us. I fear we may have lost several mouthpieces to their counter-intelligence teams.”
“Never mind that,” Percival ordered. “What did you learn?”
Derbyshire looked up at him. “Oh, nothing too much,” he said. “Just the location of the rebel base.”
Percival’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
“One of our deep-cover agents was invited to the meeting where they announced their Popular Front,” Derbyshire explained, grinning. “It took the agent some time to get to a more… open asteroid, but once he made it… why, the message was passed on to a covert team and sent back here. The commander made the call to come here directly, rather than continue with his program, and I’m sure that you will agree that he deserves a reward. I have taken the liberty of writing him a commendation in your name, as well as urging that he be promoted as soon as possible. The Empire needs minds that can react and adapt plans — or abandon them — at short notice.”
At any other time, Percival would have exploded at the thought of someone else daring to use — even by proxy — his authority. Instead, he just stared at the desktop processor, as if it contained the key to eternal life — or, perhaps, to eternal patronage. Penny could almost read his thoughts. If he destroyed — or crippled — the rebellion, perhaps he wouldn’t lose his power and position after all.
“Good,” Percival said, savagely. “Do the rebels know that we know?”
“I do not believe so,” Derbyshire said, thoughtfully. “They may not, however, keep using the same base forever.”
“So we move now,” Percival said, sharply. He looked over at Penny. “What ships do we have on station?”
“Commodore MacDonald’s squadron is the most powerful one on hand,” Penny said. Percival scowled. It would mean putting the chance for glory in the hands of a junior officer he hated, but he would still be able to claim some of the credit. “If you waited two weeks, we could send one of the superdreadnaught squadrons or…”
“No,” Percival said. His mood had completely changed. “I want you to write the orders for the good Commodore. She’s to go capture the rebel base; I want the rebels here, in chains, for trial and execution. If the base cannot be captured, they are to blow it and withdraw.”
“Yes, sir,” Penny said. Watching Percival act decisively was odd. “I’ll send the orders at once.”
“And then report back here,” Percival added. “I think we need to celebrate.”
Penny nodded, keeping the disgust off her face.
Angelika received her new orders philosophically, although she noted that if her squadron happened to run into the rebel superdreadnaughts — again — the results were unlikely to be any better than the last time. She uploaded the coordinates into the squadron’s navigational database, checked that all weapons and supplies were loaded into her ships, and then ordered her squadron to move away from the planet and the ring or orbital defences. Seven thousand kilometres from Camelot, her ships flickered out and vanished.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“There’s nothing new on the passive scans, Captain,” the tactical officer said. “The only shipping in the system are the asteroid miners and the local defence ships.”
Captain Daniel Hawthorne nodded, forcing himself to walk back to the command chair and sit down. Peering over his officer’s shoulder was accomplishing nothing, even though he was tenser than he wanted to admit. He wanted to see some action and, so far, they’d hung in the Greenland System for over two weeks without anything happening. They couldn’t even rotate crew through the system’s shore leave facilities. The orders from Commodore Brent-Cochrane had been simple. They were to remain in the system, unknown even to the local System Command, and wait. When the rebels arrived, they were to power up their drive and jump out of the system to where the Commodore and his fleet were waiting.
It was a mission suited to a destroyer — the smallest true warship in service — yet it wasn’t one that suited Daniel, nor was it one fitting for a man of his seniority. He should have been commanding a heavy cruiser or maybe even a battlecruiser, but an evening of drunken rudeness to a senior officer had put an end to that. He’d been ordered to take command of Snow White, a destroyer, and all that his seniority could do was keep him from being summarily dismissed. Was it any surprise that he’d climbed into a bottle? It was far more surprising that Commodore Brent-Cochrane, having taken command of the squadron, had helped him to climb out of it and assigned him to new responsibilities. It went against the grain to admit that he needed help from such a young man — regeneration treatments or not, he would have been astonished if the Commodore was any older than forty — but perhaps it was working. Or perhaps not; he had been floating in orbit, all systems powered down as far as they would go without depowering his ship, for two weeks… and he was bored.
He glanced around the bridge, scowling as he studied the displays. The bridge was cramped — the seven officers on duty rubbed shoulders far more than they should — and cold, despite his uniform. The destroyer’s sixty crewmen were good sorts, at least, but he’d heard the grumbles and knew that they didn’t want to stay under blackout conditions much longer. Neither did their Captain, of course, yet he understood the importance of their mission. It wasn’t something he could share with the crew.
“The rebels are very likely to target your assigned worlds,” Commodore Brent-Cochrane had said. He’d positioned his ships in interstellar space, which was against doctrine, but would give them an excellent chance of being able to respond to a crisis as soon as it appeared. “If they target your world, I want you to jump out and whistle up the troops without being detected. The rebels won’t have time to bring up their own sensors before you’re out of there.”