“We can hold this place long enough to detonate the bomb,” Hester said, in her hissing voice. The latest report from the Random Numbers showed yet another flight of assault shuttles landing at the spaceport, carrying another unit of Blackshirts into the fray. There had to be thousands on the asteroid now. “There may still be hope.”
Neil looked at her and shook his head. “We can’t hold out much longer,” he said. Sanctuary wasn’t designed like a typical asteroid, which meant that the Blackshirts would have to work at finding the command centre. It wouldn’t take them as long as Hester seemed to think. The process of elimination alone would cut entire swathes of the asteroid out of their calculations. “I think we’d better get ready.”
Hester smiled a strange smile. It looked odd when half of her face was badly scarred. “Maybe,” she said. “If they come close to the command centre, Neil, we will begin the detonation sequence.”
“The rebels are retreating into their inner core,” the coordination officer said. He was currently linked into the Blackshirt command system, listening to the orders the Blackshirt commander was issuing to his men. “We’re winning.”
Angelika smiled to herself. A few more hours and the asteroid would be hers. Once her people controlled it, the prisoners would be transported onto her ships and secured, while an elite team from Imperial Intelligence searched the remains of the asteroid thoroughly. The Blackshirts were already taking prisoners as the defenders collapsed, sending them back to the rear in chains. Her fingers keyed her console and she brought up an image of seven rebels, chained to their seats, being transported to her ships. They wouldn’t be able to do anything, even kill themselves, before her interrogators had sucked their minds dry.
“Good,” she said. With the fighting having moved into the heart of the asteroid, she’d pulled her battlecruisers back, just in case the superdreadnaughts decided to return. She’d feared running into them, but the odds were that they were off causing havoc somewhere else. That was bad news for whoever they hit — Admiral Percival would be looking for more scapegoats — yet they’d lost their base and much of their support in the Beyond. How long would the rebellion be able to go on without their base? “Have the prisoners transported to the interrogation cubes at once.”
A new alarm flashed up on her console. “Captain, we have nine contacts, superdreadnaught-sized,” her tactical officer said. Angelika felt her blood run cold. Was she going to be cheated of her victory by the rebel superdreadnaughts? “They’re…”
He relaxed suddenly. “They’re heavy freighters, Captain,” he said, in relief. Angelika smiled, despite herself. That had been a close shave. She’d been within seconds of ordering an emergency flicker somewhere else, anywhere else. Even her contacts and patrons wouldn’t have been able to save her once the post-battle analysis suggested that she’d fled from nine heavy freighters. Even if the rebels had loaded as many weapons and shields as they could into freighter hulls, they wouldn’t be able to stand up to her ships. Heavy freighters — the design, she saw, was a common one throughout the Empire — moved through space like wallowing pigs. They were certainly as ugly as pigs. “I am picking up no IFF signals.”
“Rebels,” Angelika said, with heavy satisfaction. She was tempted to open fire and expunge her shame in their blood, but if she could take their computers intact, they might lead her to more rebel bases. The odds were good that Commander Walker had established a supply dump somewhere in the Beyond and if it could be located, his superdreadnaughts would run out of weapons and spares pretty soon. “Order them to surrender and prepare to be boarded.”
“Aye, Admiral,” the communications officer said. There was a long pause. “There’s no response.”
“They’re trying to run,” the tactical officer said. Angelika snorted. The rebel ships had come out of flicker at high speed and were trying desperately to cancel their speed and turn around before it took them right into her waiting arms. Even if they’d installed military-grade drives on those hulks, they would still be unable to turn around and escape before she caught them. “I think they’re unable to dampen down their drive field without burning out the crystals and wrecking their drive nodes.”
“Terrible,” Angelika said, dryly. The rebel freighters were coming into range now, unable to evade her weapons. “Launch an assault shuttle to each of those ships and board them. Take the crews prisoner and they can be interrogated along with the rebels.”
“Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer said. He paused. “Captain, I have some weird readings, I… Jesus Christ!”
Angelika stared in horror, unable to believe her eyes. The freighters had opened fire, not with the popguns normally issued to commercial ships, but with missiles — thousands of missiles. No superdreadnaught could have unleashed such a barrage, even with external racks; there were over three thousand missiles coming from each freighter. Twenty-seven thousand missiles were bearing down on her ships — nothing, maybe not even an entire fleet of superdreadnaughts could survive such an attack. Her point defence wouldn’t even stop a handful of them before the rest broke through and destroyed her ships. Her great triumph had just collapsed in front of her.
Training reasserted itself. There was only one way out. “Jump out,” she ordered. The flicker drive had been held idling, just in case the superdreadnaughts arrived and attempted to redress the balance. “Jump us out of here…”
“It’s too late,” the helmsman shouted. The drive was still powering up. There wasn’t even enough power to make a random jump and hope they didn’t arrive as billions of disconnected atoms. “It’s too late…”
The tidal wave of missiles slammed into her ships and the entire battlecruiser squadron disintegrated. There were no survivors.
Neil somehow managed to gather himself long enough to close his jaw. He’d been a Marine for longer than he cared to remember and had seen far too many battles in space, yet he’d never seen anything like that, not even in drills. It had been centuries since the Empire had called together enough superdreadnaughts to launch so many missiles at once, but the launching ships were only freighters. How had they fitted so many missile launchers into the ships? And, coming to think of it, who was in command of the ships? Admiral Walker certainly hadn’t told him about the possibility.
“We are being hailed,” one of the operators said. Neil dragged himself back to reality. With their battlecruisers gone, the invaders could either surrender or die and he didn’t care much which one they chose. He dispatched a string of orders to his Marines, ordering them to hold position and demand surrender. “The commander of the ships would like to speak with you.”
“Put him through,” Neil ordered. If nothing else, they’d get some answers. “Who is it…?”
The display screen lit up, revealing a very familiar face. “Good afternoon, Major,” Daria said. Her face cracked into a brilliant smile. “I do hope I’m not late?”
Chapter Forty-Three
The party had started as soon as the remaining Blackshirts were rounded up, secured and stored in an old freighter until the rebel leadership could decide what to do with them. The inhabitants of the asteroid had spontaneously flowed into the main chamber and started celebrating their victory and their miraculous escape from death or capture. A line of stores had opened, selling food and drink at knock-down prices, while no less than three bands were providing music for dancing with more enthusiasm than skill. It seemed as if the entire remaining population of the asteroid was there, shouting and singing and indulging in a celebration that threatened to shake the asteroid to pieces. No one seemed to care any longer about the danger.