He watched, grimly, as Blue Squadron leapt to the attack, closing in rapidly on the stricken superdreadnaught. The target ship’s point defence had been badly weakened by the first strikes and it couldn’t turn fast enough to prevent them from heading right towards the damaged sectors. The starfighters were tiny, small enough to accelerate to their full speed almost instantly… and no lumbering superdreadnaught could match them. One by one, they unleashed their warheads, exploding deep within the superdreadnaught’s hull… and the superdreadnaught blew apart in a blinding flash.
“Direct hit,” someone carolled over the communication channels. “Scratch one flattop!”
“Target destroyed,” Salgak said, dispassionately. “All starfighters are returning to base.”
Colin frowned. “Scratch one flattop?”
David had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “No one has used starfighters or anything like them for centuries,” he said. “The concept simply wasn’t workable before now. We had to look back to the pre-spaceflight days for anything remotely comparable and… well, the pilots fell in love with some of the old movie characters.”
“I see,” Colin said. Truthfully, he found it more amusing than annoying. “Is there anything else I should know about?”
“There have been thousands of applicants to be pilots,” David said, as they watched the starfighters returning to their base ship. “We started with people who had had experience with small craft — shuttle pilots and the like — but not all of them made the transition successfully. Marine landing craft pilots and assault shuttle pilots did the best, although we still had a series of accidents until we got a proper simulator set up on the Ark Royal — that’s the refitted bulk freighter we’ve been using as a carrier.”
He shrugged. “Overall, the concept is definitely workable,” he concluded. “We can start mass production as soon as the shipyards are ready.”
“Which will not be for months,” Salgak rasped, looking up at them. A thin communications laser shone out of his implants and linked into the vessels computers. “We underestimated the Empire’s ability to screw up their facilities… and, of course, the suicide attack on the Jupiter shipyards didn’t help. Hundreds of facilities will have to be refitted before they can produce either Independence-class superdreadnaughts or starfighters.”
“We’re going to need Generals and Admirals,” David said, grimly. They’d clearly had the debate before. The Imperial Navy had been hammered hard during the rebellion and was barely a shadow of its former self. “We need every ship we can get up and running as soon as possible, so never mind perfection…”
Colin scowled. The first thing he’d done, once he’d installed his people in Earth’s orbital defences — and therefore ensuring that he could keep a grip on the planet itself — had been to start attempting to track down and account for every Imperial Navy starship that had been in commission when he’d started the rebellion. He hadn’t expected a quick result, but the early research had suggested that a depressing number of starships had been destroyed, or had gone renegade, or had simply never existed at all. Corruption had been the lifeblood of the Imperial Navy and it was quite possible — more than merely possible — that several hundred starships, including a number of superdreadnaughts, had been nothing more than entries on the fleet register, while their commanding officers had pocketed the funds allocated for their construction. He’d already had a number of officers removed and arrested for such antics, but he had a nasty feeling that he had barely scratched the surface.
And the rebellion had severely damaged the Empire. Piracy was on the upsurge everywhere, but back in Sector 117, where it had all started. Daria, the Freebooter Queen, as they called her, had brought pirates back into the warm, or had ruthlessly exterminated pirates who had refused to play ball, but her reach had had limits. The confusion that still spread through the Empire meant that the pirates were having a field day raiding at will, while the Imperial Navy could barely provide enough protection. Hell, some of the raiders were former Imperial Navy personnel. David was right, really; they needed more ships, even if they weren’t the most modern starships in existence.
“An argument for another time, perhaps,” he said, diplomatically. “Salgak, how many starfighters can you produce within a few months?”
“Maybe a thousand, assuming that we don’t get any more yards here,” Salgak said, after a moment’s thought. “The difficult part will be deploying them anywhere where they will be needed.”
“Here, perhaps,” Colin said, absently. The downside of running the Empire, he had come to discover, was that it was hard to trust his subordinates. He trusted everyone who had served in the Shadow Fleet, but there were Admirals in the Imperial Navy who were far from trustworthy. Ironically, he’d come to realise that if he pushed them too hard, they’d rebel against the Provisional Government. If they managed to get organised as a unit, they’d have enough firepower to retake Earth… and commit the Empire to a second round of civil war. “If we can cut loose a few squadrons of cruisers and destroyers from here, we might be able to make a dent in piracy.”
“Perhaps,” Salgak agreed. The Geek bowed formally. “If you’ll excuse me…”
He departed, his heavy tread echoing in their heads before the bulkhead hatch closed behind him. “Interesting person,” David said, dryly. “There are times when I could almost see the virtue of joining them.”
“The girls wouldn’t be so interested in you if you had a face marred by implants and… things that would poke her eye out when she tried to kiss you,” Colin replied, dryly. He had always been able to relax with David, even if he couldn’t relax around anyone else, particularly half of the Provisional Government. The rebellion had once been completely under his control, but now… now, it was so large that he couldn’t handle it all. He’d had to make compromises and some of them worried him badly. He looked back out towards the starfield and scowled. “How is the remainder of the Experimental Squadron coping?”
“Pretty well,” David said, slowly. “There was a lot of dissent about the starfighters at first, but when we started to run proper drills, most of that dried up and became enthusiastic support. The only real question is what we’re going to do with them?”
“Perhaps re-ignite the human race’s progress,” Colin said, after a moment. “The Empire effectively froze progress for centuries, but now we can encourage new businesses and research efforts that will expand the Empire’s tech base and, just incidentally, remove some of the Clans from the equation.” He shrugged. “And we might need them to go to war, David. There’s still the mystery of the four missing superdreadnaught squadrons.”
David nodded. Back during the Battle of Earth, four superdreadnaught squadrons had deserted Home Fleet and flickered out for parts unknown, without even a parting shot at the rebels. No one had been able to come up with a convincing explanation, but Colin suspected that their commanders intended to carve out an Empire for themselves, somewhere out along the Rim. They might even attempt to seize a sector and turn it into a springboard for retaking Earth. He’d nervously expected to hear news of them every day, but after six months, he was starting to wonder if they’d all flickered out well past the Rim. They could be anywhere.
“And how about you personally?” David asked, finally. “It’s been four months since I saw you. How are you coping with Government?”