Colin smiled ruefully at the thought. Standard Imperial Navy doctrine held that superdreadnaughts were only to be used for decisive attacks — and, of course, for intimidating anyone who might be questioning their loyalty to the Empire. The idea of using them for hit and run raids would have horrified his instructors, but Colin had discovered that the tactic worked very well. Certainly, battlecruisers had their advantages when it came to raiding — they could outgun anything that could actually catch them — yet there was something to be said for using ships so powerful that very little else could stand up to them… and besides, it wasn’t as if the planets could run away. No one had yet succeeded in building a flicker drive powerful enough to transport a whole planet somewhere else.
“There’s no point in pushing to actually take the planet,” he concluded. He’d thought as much, but he’d resolved to remain flexible until he saw what they were actually facing. “We get in, wreak havoc and get out again. No heroics.”
He smiled at their expressions and then made a show of checking his watch. “You have your orders,” he said. “Good luck to us all.”
Colin sat back as the holograms vanished, one by one. The Empire’s standard etiquette was that sending a hologram was rude, unless the sender was bedridden or otherwise unable to attend. Personally, Colin had never understood it… but then, he had never really understood the point of many traditions. Percival, who had been a past master of political backstabbing, had once commented — in a moment of candour — that failing to maintain what society regarded as good manners was often seen as a sign of weakness. Among the Thousand Families, showing weakness was very likely to lead to disaster. Even so, Colin saw no reason to maintain the tradition and had no intention of allowing his fleet to adopt it.
“No heroics,” Anderson said, from where he had been sitting on the other side of the cabin. “Do you think that that is going to make them cautious?”
Colin shrugged. There were some wilder souls in the rebellion who deserved their own independent commands, where they could indulge their taste for fighting without risking the overall plan. Once the newer starships started coming out of the shipyards the Geeks were constructing, he would be able to start assigning more officers to command slots, while ensuring that the superdreadnaughts remained firmly in the hands of his loyalists.
“I see no reason to risk ourselves here,” he said, finally. “It isn’t as if we can take the world… and it isn’t as if we’d be allowed to keep it, even if we did take the world.”
He changed the subject before Anderson could return to the issue. “Did you learn anything from the secret files?”
“Nothing,” Anderson admitted. “There was a great deal of data — some of which we can use for blackmail, or simply release it into the public sphere to cause confusion — but nothing relating to any long-term Roosevelt-led plans for this sector. I suspect that if Commodore Roosevelt knows anything about them — and I don’t think she does — the details would be locked up in her pretty head. You should have let me brain-suck her.”
Colin shook his head in disgust, although, if the truth were told, he wasn’t sure what he was disgusted at! Stacy’s secret files had included a great deal of blackmail material, including at least one Admiral and several civilian contractors who were into the most disgusting perversions, even by the standards of the Empire. No amount of protection, influence or wealth would save them if the information got out, which might have helped explain why Stacy had been allowed to maintain her command. Colin found himself caught between two possibilities; he could expose them, or blackmail them. His practical side suggested that blackmail would help the rebellion, but his vindictive streak suggested that releasing the information would ensure that the perpetrators got what they deserved. It had, quite simply, never occurred to him that anyone would be — could be — a greater pervert than Percival.
“No,” he said. “Do you have any theories?”
The Security Officer frowned, stroking his chin. “None,” he said, finally. “It could be a display of wealth intended to impress their fellows — they’re always boasting about how fabulously rich they are — but anyone they thought was worth the effort of impressing would already know how much money they have. Or… perhaps they wanted to create their own workforce and eventually dominate the sector…”
“They already dominate the sector,” Colin said. He was thinking of Lady Ellicott-Chatham. She didn’t have any connections to the Roosevelt Family, as far as he knew, but perhaps she would know something. Jason Cordova could ask. Colin was no expert in the arts of love, yet he was sure that Cordova was attracted to the girl. “Or maybe…”
The GQ alert sounded, interrupting him. “All hands to battle stations,” Damiani’s voice said. “Set Condition One throughout the ship; Admiral Walker to the CIC. This is not a drill; I say again, this is not a drill.”
Colin stood up, reaching for his jacket. “We’ll discuss it later,” he said. “Once the battle is over, we’ll go through the data again.”
The CIC was buzzing with activity when Colin stepped into the compartment. “Report,” he ordered.
“The gunboats have returned, sir,” the tactical officer reported. “We’re getting the data download from them now.”
Colin nodded, pushing the other concerns out of his mind. It was time to make war.
“Show me,” he ordered. The display lit up with the latest data. There were no unexpected surprises within the system, although the weapons platforms in orbit seemed to be stronger and more numerous than the early reports had suggested. “Bring up the flicker drive and prepare to jump.”
He settled down in his command chair and waited for the other ships to report in, linking into the datanet binding the fleet together. “All ships report ready, sir,” the tactical officer said. “They await your command.”
Colin nodded. “Jump,” he ordered.
The sound of alarms echoing through the ship brought Daniel out of a fitful sleep. “Captain, this is Lieutenant Ellsworth,” a voice said. “Sir, multiple hostile warships have just flickered into the system!”
Daniel pulled himself out of his bunk, grabbed his jacket and raced for the bridge. “Begin powering up the drive,” he ordered, as he ploughed through the door. “Give me a report, right bloody now!”
“We have nine superdreadnaughts and assorted smaller ships,” the Lieutenant said, as he gratefully vacated the Captain’s chair. “IFF signals do not match anything in the updated database.”
“Prepare to take us out of here,” Daniel ordered. The sound of the drive powering up echoed through the ship. A destroyer’s great advantage was that it could flash-wake the flicker drive and be reasonably certain of arriving at the endpoint in one piece. The rebels didn’t know it, Daniel knew, but they had flown right into a trap. And the trap was about to be sprung. “Jump!”
A moment later, Snow White vanished from the Greenland System.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Jump completed, Admiral,” the helmsman said. The display flickered to life, revealing the Greenland System ahead of them. There was no point in trying to hide their presence, so the sensor departments were using their active sensors at full power. The freighters and the handful of warships within the system weren’t responding yet, but they would. Even a blind starship captain would recognise the nine superdreadnaughts bearing down on the planet.