“Transmit a demand for surrender,” he ordered, as the squadron powered towards the planet, weapons and sensors probing the darkness for threats. “And inform them that we will spare the lives of anyone who joins us.”
He watched as the IFFs popped up on the display. The destroyers weren’t Imperial Navy, he noted without surprise, but Household Troops belonging to a particular family. Rumour had it that Household Troops received the very best of everything, from salaries to women and other perks; they certainly rarely seemed disloyal to their masters. Chances were they’d fire a few shots for the honour of the flag, then flicker out. Loyal or not, six destroyers couldn’t stand up to nine battlecruisers.
“They just sent us a copy of their brochure,” the communications officer said. She sounded as though she were trying hard not to laugh. “We can swim in their cool waters, climb their high mountains…”
Jeremy shook his head, wondering just what the enemy CO was thinking. Had they even heard about the revolution? Happy Daze was quite isolated, he knew; the system rarely had any traffic that wasn’t connected to its status as a holiday resort for the wealthy and powerful among the aristocrats and their servants. But surely the Imperial Navy Sector CO would at least have tried to warn them. His patron wouldn’t have thanked him for leaving so many people to be caught by the rebels.
“Repeat our demand for surrender,” he ordered. It was unlikely in the extreme that the system didn’t know about the rebellion, which suggested that the system CO was trying to irritate him. “And then prepare to engage the enemy.”
Four icons vanished from the display. “Sir,” the tactical officer said, “the freighters and their escorts just jumped out. I couldn’t get a bearing on their course from this distance.”
Jeremy scowled. The tactical officer, thankfully, had some formal training, but his former CO had been a right bastard, snapping and snarling at his men for every little setback. No tactical officer could hope to draw a bearing from such a distance, let alone take his ship in hot pursuit, yet the officer still worried about punishment. Not for the first time, he wondered why it had taken so long for a general mutiny to get underway.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. If there was one thing he had learned from working with Stacy Roosevelt, it was that shooting the messenger only ensured that one got less mail. The crew might not pass on something vitally important if they thought he would take it out on them. “Lock weapons on the other destroyers.”
He looked back at the display, wondering if the enemy CO was mad — or if he had laid a trap. The enemy destroyers had formed up into a hammerhead formation, combining their weapons and sensors into a single unit… which would be admirable if a single battlecruiser didn’t mount more missile tubes and energy weapons than an entire squadron of destroyers. A single barrage from his ships would be enough to wipe out the entire enemy squadron. He couldn’t decide if the enemy CO was trying to bluff him… or was merely planning to fight to the death, no matter how pointless it seemed. Maybe he expected nothing, but punishment for abandoning the planet.
And yet he can’t hope to save it, Jeremy thought, as the two squadrons converged. Any fool could see that, just by weighing his firepower against mine.
“Entering weapons range in two minutes,” the tactical officer said. There was a hint of excitement in his voice, overshadowing his earlier worries. Tactical officers were trained to be aggressive and, now that the Shadow Fleet had removed the non-professional requirements for promotion, it could come rapidly to a proven operator. “Missiles locked on target, ready to fire. Energy weapons locked on target, ready to fire.”
“Stand by,” Jeremy ordered. What was the enemy commander thinking? Had he laid a minefield? No, that would have required precognition. Even a spy on Shadow wouldn’t have known their exact angle of approach. Jeremy himself hadn’t known. “Fire the first barrage as soon as we enter weapons range, then hold fire.”
An alarm sounded as the enemy ships opened fire, the display suddenly lighting up with dozens of red icons. They’d crammed additional external racks onto their hulls, Jeremy saw, improving their throw weight at the cost of some manoeuvrability. They did know about the rebellion then, he told himself, as Shadow shivered and unleashed her own barrage. Even without expending her external racks, it was still more firepower than all four enemy destroyers could hope to unleash.
The enemy destroyers vanished from the display. Jeremy heard the tactical officer’s gasp of dismay; the enemy had simply flickered out rather than allow the missiles to strike home. It was about their only viable tactic, Jeremy knew. He ordered the tactical officer to deactivate their missiles — thankfully, the Imperial Navy had long since perfected the technique of recovering unexpended missiles — and then watched as the enemy missiles entered his point defence envelope. One by one, they were picked off and vaporised before they could strike the starship’s shields, let alone its hull.
Jeremy sat back, studying the tactical analysis. There were no noted improvements in the enemy missiles, no ECM or modified seeker heads that might give them a chance to score hits. He wasn’t too surprised — the Imperial Navy wasn’t known for innovation — but Anderson had warned him to keep an eye open for surprises. If the Roosevelt Family had been quietly preparing for the collapse of the Empire, why not other families? And why couldn’t they seek secret alliances with rogue scientists?
“Picking up all four enemy destroyers, right at the edge of sensor range,” the sensor officer said. “They’re keeping an eye on us, sir.”
“Unsurprising,” Jeremy commented. The enemy CO had clearly decided to witness whatever happened in the system, even if he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Not an idiot, then; it was almost a shame he had refused the invitation to join the rebellion. Who knew what piece of tactical information would serve as a clue to rebel capabilities? “Keep an eye on them in return.”
He looked over towards the helm. “Take us in towards the planet,” he ordered. “And fire on the automated platforms as soon as they come into range, then dispatch the recovery crews.”
Happy Daze belonged to one of the smaller families, according to the files. Unlike most colony worlds, it had been left almost completely uninhabited after the terraforming process had been completed. The only permanent population, at least as far as anyone knew, was a small army of servants, gamekeepers and pleasure slaves, who would remain on the planet until they had completed their service. Visitors to the planet could enjoy pampering on a colossal scale, from swimming in warm moonlit seas to hunting dangerous animals in the bush. The sheer scale of the resort world stunned Jeremy every time he considered it; they’d turned an entire planet into a holiday camp. They could have established a similar installation on an inhabited world and it would have been much cheaper. And they still would have had guaranteed security.