Democracy 1: Democracy's Right (19 page)

“I pledge my life to this cause,” he said, feeling the cheers lifting him upwards, boosting his stature beyond imagination.  The feeling was both glorious and terrifying.  “I swear that we will work to reform the Empire or die trying!”

He lowered his voice as the cheering died away.  “We all have different ideas about how the Empire should be reformed,” he said, softly.  “We cannot allow ourselves to get bogged down in petty details.  Once we have broken the power of the system, once we have broken the force that holds thousands of star systems in bondage, we can discuss the future of the Empire.  Until then, any plans for reform are nothing more than wishful thinking.  And the only actions that will change the Empire, the only actions that will allow us a chance to reform the system, are meaningful actions.  We must confront the Empire and force it to reform.

“And we can only do that as a popular front.

”We must put aside our differences and unite,” he said.  “I pledge, for myself, that I will respect the result of any constitutional convention that draws up a new order for the Empire, one formed after the war.  Those who fight with us will be invited to join the convention, to add their thoughts and feelings to the future of the Empire itself.

“I’ve seen the Empire.  I’ve seen the discontent within the Imperial Navy, the hopes and fears of a thousand suffering worlds; the storm of rage that is confined, helplessly, by the sheer power of the Empire.  I know that it is rotting away, yet there is still life in its strong branches.  If we unite, we can defeat it; if we remain disunited, it will crush us.  And if we lose, the hope of humanity is lost with us.”

His voice became more purposeful as he nodded to the small side table.  Hester had placed it there, with a large notepad and a pen on top.  “This document pledges us to stand together and fight against the Empire,” he concluded.  He wrote his signature with a flourish.  He’d been practicing.  “I invite you all to stand with me.”

Colin turned and walked down the ramp and out of the compartment.  Behind him, Hester Hyman was the first to follow him, signing her own name.  And the rest of the convention followed.

***

The spy watched in disbelief as most of the underground and resistance movement leaders – or their chosen representatives – walked forward to add their own name to the list.  The Rim seethed with discontent and groups that were sworn to fight the Empire, yet no one had ever possessed the power and determination to unite them – until now.  The spy mentally totted up the possible assets that had been pledged to the Popular Front and shuddered.  It wasn't significant compared to the might of the Imperial Navy, but gathered in one place – with the Imperial Navy scattered out over the Empire – it was going to be formidable.  The Empire had to be warned.

It would be impossible, the spy knew, to slip away, so she followed the line down to the table and added her own name.  Imperial Intelligence wouldn’t care, not as long as she brought home the bacon – and they’d want nothing less than the secret base Admiral Walker was using for his fleet.  The spy knew more about the Rim than most – including the location of a number of hidden colonies whose inhabitants would have been surprised and upset to know she knew – yet she didn’t know everything.  And besides, there was no reason why Admiral Walker had to use an established colony.  A new one, perhaps built by the Geeks, would serve his purpose.

The spy swallowed a curse as the meeting broke up into smaller groups, all chatting away enthusiastically.  She had to get back to the Empire, but how?  This news was too vital to wait for one of Imperial Intelligence’s disguised ships.  The Empire needed to know at once. 

She shrugged as she moved away, in the company of a pair of rebels who had no idea about his true masters.  She’d find a way and then…the Empire would reward her richly.  It always did.

Chapter Nineteen

“And thank God that that’s over,” Colin said, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the nearest chair.  The Popular Front meetings had taken, literally, days; he’d been hustled from group to group, each of which had wanted secret promises and assurances that Colin was in no position to offer.  After a day of what felt like wasted time, he would have welcomed an Imperial Navy squadron roaring in, if only to break up the monotony.  “If I’d known that forming an alliance of rebels was so much trouble...”

Daria laughed, taking one of the larger armchairs a
nd crossing her legs mischievously.  “I think you did very well,” she said, with a wink.  She’d changed from the understated shipsuit she’d worn into an outfit that rivalled Cordova’s for colour and style.  Daring flashes of light drew the eye towards the tops of her breasts, while the remainder of the outfit showed off the suppleness of her body.  It almost seemed to draw attention away from her face.  “You kept them talking and promised them nothing.”

“Yeah,” Khursheda said.  Unlike the others, she wore an ordinary uniform; she’d been in command of the fleet while Colin had been at the asteroid, addressing the rebel forces.  “Tell me something.  How does an ordinary starship captain become such an accomplished politician?”

Daria favoured her with a dazzling smile.  “It’s really quite simple,” she said.  “I started with the Freebooter League – you should see the politics there – and went uphill from there.  It never really changes; the people who have want to keep, while the people who don’t have want to get.  The key is to keep the various political positions balanced until it no longer matters.”

Colin frowned, thoughtfully.  “And when will it no longer matter?”

“When we rule the Empire, of course,” Daria said, switching her smile onto him.  “The newly-elected government will be the one to decide on just what course the Empire will chart in the future.  The various factions skulking out here past the Rim will have a chance to make their voices heard, but we didn't promise them anything else – and we didn't have to make any promises.  They are far better off with us than they are with the Empire.”

Khursheda scowled at her.  For some reason Colin had never been able to understand, the former Imperial Navy officer and the Freebooter didn't really seem to like one another.  Khursheda had been the most vocal about not trusting Daria when they’d first made contact with her network of spies and intelligence operatives on Jackson’s Folly, where the Freebooters had been quietly slipping technology into the hands of the local government.  It hadn't, according to the latest reports, been enough to stop the Empire.  Jackson’s Folly was now an occupied world and would remain so until Colin won his war...assuming it was won.  The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

He’d considered taking his fleet back to Jackson’s Folly – the Empire wouldn't keep the superdreadnaught squadron they’d used to break the planet’s defences there indefinitely – and destroying the pickets left in the system, but it would be a pointless exercise.  It would only make Jackson’s Folly more of a target for the Empire, while Admiral Percival would simply launch a second invasion and recover the independent world.  Raiding the pickets was one thing; actively liberating the planet, if only for a few weeks, was quite another.

“I wouldn't worry about it, Captain,” Cordova said, clapping her on the shoulder.  Khursheda glowered at him, although she seemed to hold the renegade Captain in higher esteem than Daria.  “The politics can now be left to those who remain behind to hold the fort, while we warriors have to head off to war.  And, when the war is won, we can see who is still standing.”

Colin kept his face expressionless, although the truth was that he didn't know if he truly trusted the former Imperial Navy Captain.  He wasn't in any position to complain about a mutinous officer, yet...there was something about Cordova that set him on edge.  Perhaps it was the booming pronouncements he was fond of making, or perhaps it was the fact that Cordova seemed almost too good to be true.  Colin had never asked him what future Cordova saw for the Empire – and, for that matter, what Cordova wanted from life.  Did he want to go home one day?

“Jason is right,” he said, calmly.  “We have to win the war before we can organise the reformation of the Empire and for that we need the help of the rebel factions.”

“I believe that most of them will help us,” Hester said.  The older woman was looking tired and drawn, exhausted by her labours.  Colin had urged her to drop into sickbay for a medical examination, but Hester had refused, citing the need to get to work.  “And combined, they can threaten the Empire.”

“Until the Empire moves in reinforcements,” Khursheda countered.  “Let’s face it; apart from this formation, the Shadow Fleet or whatever we wind up calling it, we have nothing larger than a heavy cruiser – and outdated heavy cruisers at that.  Their modern counterparts will smash right through them.”

“Given time,” Salgak said, “we can produce new weapons and starships that will tip the balance in our favour. The first units of the new class are already under construction.”  The cyborg’s augmented head twisted from side to side.  “The Empire will not be expecting us to develop new concepts, perhaps even new levels of weaponry.”

“And you know that Imperial Navy Captains are not trained to expect the unexpected, let alone cope with it,” Cordova said.  He stroked his beard as his smile grew wider, contemplating the tactical possibilities.  “We can certainly hurt them badly before they have a chance to adapt.”

Colin lifted a hand and the room fell silent.  “We have to run before we can walk,” he said, feeling a wave of tiredness passing over his body.  Once the fleet was underway to its next target, he promised himself, he would lock his quarters and get several days of proper rest.  He shook his head inwardly, laughing at himself.  The chances were good that he would never have any real rest until the war was won.  “And, with that in mind, we need to decide on our next target – and indeed our overall plan for winning the war.”

He hadn't intended to share the details of his planning with anyone, but it had been gently, if firmly, pointed out to him by Daria that showing his distrust too openly would cause others to react against him. Besides, if any of the men and women gathered in his quarters were traitors – or Imperial Intelligence spies – the rebellion was about to be terminated before it was even fairly begun.   Pushing the dark thought aside, Colin keyed the terminal and brought up a star chart of Sector 117.

The Empire, for reasons that owed more to inter-Family scrabbles and disputes rather than common sense, tended to treat each sector as a separate entity, rather than acknowledge the realities of space.  Two planets that were only ten light years apart might as well be on the other side of the galaxy from each other, if they were separated by an arbitrary sector line.  Colin had never been able to understand why the Empire operated in such a fashion – the best theory he had been able to develop was that it suited the shipping lines – yet it had practical implications.  The worlds outside Sector 117 were unlikely to have heard about the rebellion.  If his calculations were correct, if Percival had chosen to keep the news of the rebellion restricted, the other sectors wouldn't be watching for his ships.  They would have no idea that they
had
to watch for his ships.  The thought of taking his ships over the sector line and wreaking havoc was tempting, but he pushed it aside.  Admiral Percival had to be dislodged first, before the rebellion could spread.

He studied the chart, his mind automatically correcting for the slight misrepresentation of holographic displays.  There were two hundred inhabited planets within Sector 117, but most of them were effectively valueless, at least when it came to rebellion.  Colin’s fleet could destroy the orbital stations and the weapons platforms intended to discourage pirates from trying to hit the planet, yet what would it gain him?  Nothing – and it would give Public Information a hell of a chance to discredit the rebellion.  There were only fifty worlds that were important enough to merit being targeted – the remainder would fall into the rebellion’s hands once Camelot had been taken – and none of them would fail to provoke a reaction from Percival. 

“First,” he said.  “The main body of the fleet – under my command – will proceed to Piccadilly.  We will use various tricks” – he wasn't about to go into any detail, even here – “to sneak in and then engage the defences from very short range.  Once we have destroyed the orbital defences, we will take out the facilities on the surface of the planet and withdraw before we can be engaged and destroyed.”

“Chancy,” Cordova observed.  “You end up stuck there and Percival’s goons will kick your ass through the nearest airlock.”

Colin couldn't disagree with the sentiment, however crudely Cordova chose to express it.  Piccadilly was not only a valuable world in its own right – the Roosevelt Family had been developing the world and transforming it into a major industrial node, although his capture of the Annual Fleet would have hampered its further development – but it was within thirty light years of Camelot.  Percival would, assuming that he had a force on stand-by, be able to dispatch one of his own superdreadnaught squadrons to intercept.  And then...

The thought made him smile.  His force would have its flicker drives powered up and ready to go.  They’d simply flicker out as soon as the enemy ships arrived, yet...one lesson that had been hammered into his head back at the Academy was the KISS Principle.  Keep It Simple, Stupid.  The operation would infuriate Percival and drive his patrons into a frenzy of hate and fear, forcing them to demand that Percival did the impossible and capture or kill Colin.  And yet Cordova was right.  Too much could go wrong too quickly.

“We'll remain on alert to flicker out if the shit hits the fan,” Colin assured him.  It didn't begin to express his own doubts and fears over the operation – and he suspected that Cordova knew that – but it would have to suffice.  “Percival will simply be unable to intercept us.”

Cordova didn't bother to argue, so Colin moved on to the next part of the operation.  “Khursheda, you will take command of the battlecruiser squadron” – calling a unit of five battlecruisers and six heavy cruisers a squadron was pushing it, but it had to do – “and go pay a call on the ICN network.  The message has already been prepared, along with the codes that will allow it to disseminate through the ICN, without Percival being able to do a thing about it.”

“Of course, sir,” Khursheda said.  The thought of action had galvanised her, even though she’d only been a Commodore for the last two weeks.  Colin had plenty of enthusiastic younger officers and crewmen, but he was short of experienced commanding officers and he was unwilling to risk bringing in too many strangers from the Rim.  Some of them, he knew, would be Imperial Intelligence operatives, or perhaps they would have been cashiered for very good reasons.

“Don’t risk your ships,” Colin added.  “If you find yourself in a position to exchange fire with Percival’s ships, don’t unless you have a heavy firepower advantage.  We cannot afford to lose you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Khursheda said.  Her dark face seemed to light up.  “We won’t let you down.”

“Excellent,” Colin said.  He looked up at Cordova.  “You have the most interesting part of the operation.”  Cordova smiled, as if he already knew what Colin was going to say.  “You will be raiding the enemy’s smaller interests and mining facilities.”

“Behaving like pirates,” Cordova said.  He sounded vaguely disapproving, although the way he stroked his beard suggested that he enjoyed the thought.  Indeed, looking at the outfit he wore, Colin wondered if Cordova thought that he was a pirate king.  It was possible...yet, unlike most pirates, there were no atrocities to Cordova’s name.  Or perhaps, he thought in the privacy of his own mind, no
known
atrocities.  “My crew will doubtless enjoy the chance to loot.”

Colin nodded, hiding his disapproval.  He wasn't too surprised – Cordova and his ship had been fugitives from the Empire since before Colin had been working for Admiral Percival – yet it was somehow disappointing, like finding an idol unexpectedly tarnished.  And then, Cordova would also have command of many of the starships that had been donated to Colin’s cause – including many real pirates, hiding under the rebellion’s flag.  Perhaps Cordova was the right choice after all; his reputation would never allow him to turn a blind eye to atrocities.  He guarded his reputation like the older spinster women of the Thousand Families guarded their honour.

“Which leads neatly to another point,” Colin added.  “No atrocities.  I want there to be none at all.  I want you to make it clear to your men that I will punish any atrocity in the harshest possible manner, even if I have to hand them over to the Empire myself.  We cannot allow anything to blacken our reputation.”