But they hadn’t installed massive defences, he noted, as the automated platforms came into range. They were enough to deter a pirate attack — and there wasn’t anything else in the system worth defending — but they couldn’t hope to stand off a single battlecruiser, let alone nine of them. And, unlike the destroyers, they had no way to flicker out and escape certain destruction. Jeremy watched dispassionately as the platforms fought briefly, then were picked off one by one. There wasn’t anything else in orbit, not even a transit station.
They probably just kept the shuttles on the ground, he thought, as the battlecruisers settled into orbit. It isn’t as though they need a large infrastructure.
“Hail them,” he ordered. “Transmit the pre-recorded message.”
“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said.
Jeremy smiled to himself. If the people on the ground had any sense, they would have already evacuated the holiday resort. It was quite likely that anyone important had already been evacuated — they’d had at least five months warning, perhaps more — but he doubted they would have evacuated the servants. But in any case, the planet was completely naked. A handful of KEW strikes would obliterate the facilities, leaving the survivors completely isolated. In order to meet Colin’s demand that the rebels try to avoid atrocities, the message gave the inhabitants thirty minutes to evacuate.
There was little on the planet that was actually worth destroying — and nothing that was of any military value. Jeremy had questioned the value of hitting the planet at all, only to have Colin point out that the family that owned the planet would be furious with the Imperial Navy for failing to provide additional protection. Besides, it was possible that losing the planet’s facilities would cause more economic damage. The analysts weren’t sure if the family actually owned everything or if they were still paying off the loans. Untangling the financial network underpinning the Empire, they’d confessed, could take years. Jeremy rather suspected that the best option would be to destroy everything and start again from scratch.
But then countless millions will starve, he thought. There were hundreds of worlds dependent on food shipments because they’d never been allowed to set up farms for themselves. The whole system was rotten to the core. We have to be more careful.
“Picking up a message,” the communications officer said. “They’re offering to pay a colossal ransom if we leave the system without destroying anything — anything else.”
Jeremy shook his head. There was no point in trying to take money, not when the value of the Imperial Credit was sinking rapidly. Raw materials or industrial production might be worthwhile, but there was nothing in the system that was worth the effort of collecting it. It was possible that the destroyers might be surrendered to him, yet he rather doubted it. The family would be heavily penalised for aiding and abetting the rebels.
Idiots, he thought. It isn’t as if countless destroyer-sized starships didn’t go rogue.
“Tell them that they now have” — he glanced at the display — “fifteen minutes to evacuate the facilities.”
“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said.
Jeremy waited, studying the enemy destroyers in the display. Would their CO throw caution to the winds and do something stupidly heroic, or would he just watch and plot revenge? Four destroyers couldn’t fight an entire squadron of battlecruisers, but they could cause real trouble behind the lines. The rebel supply lines weren’t as solid as they might wish in any case. If the CO was cunning enough to plan his attacks carefully, he might cripple the offensive as it progressed towards Morrison.
Or would he simply head towards Morrison himself?
The timer reached zero. “Launch KEWs,” he ordered, shortly. The tactical staff had plenty of time to refine their targeting systems. “Take out the facilities.”
He’d half-expected force field defences, but nothing materialised as the KEWs fell down and struck their targets. There was no need for warheads; one by one, the facilities that had taken so much time and effort to build were wiped out of existence. Jeremy said a silent prayer for the employees, servants and slaves — he hoped they had evacuated, even though he knew their superiors might have forced them to stay in the complex in the hopes of using them as human shields — and then looked over at the helm. There was no longer any point in remaining within the system.
“Take us to safe distance, then prepare to flicker out,” he ordered.
The squadron rose up, heading away from the planet. Jeremy watched the enemy destroyers as they altered course themselves, moving to shadow the battlecruisers. It made no sense to him, then he realised that the enemy CO was hoping to get a bearing from their jump out of the system. It wouldn’t do Imperial Intelligence any good — he wasn’t planning to jump all the way to a secret rebel base — but it did suggest that the enemy CO was crafty.
You’re on the wrong side, mate, he thought.
But he’d been on the wrong side too, until he’d been offered a chance to join the rebellion. Somehow, despite his resentment, he had never really considered mutiny; the Empire’s illusion of invincibility had been too strong. But now… now there were no limits. And word of the Empire’s defeats was spreading rapidly. They’d never be able to recover completely, even if they beat Colin and the Shadow Fleet.
He briefly considered trying to mousetrap the destroyers, before dismissing the thought. The enemy CO was cagey, cagey enough to make it unlikely that he could be trapped. He sensed a calculating mind in his opponent, cold and dispassionate enough not to be tricked into rash moves. There was no point in wasting time trying to kill a single enemy officer.
“Captain,” the helmsman said, “we are at minimum safe distance from the planet.”
“Set a random destination, then flicker out,” Jeremy ordered. Maybe — just maybe — the enemy crew was good enough to get a bearing on their departure. It wouldn’t do them any good if the coordinates led to empty space, three light years from the nearest star. “And then stand down from battlestations and jump us to the first scheduled waypoint.”
He relaxed as his stomach twisted again, then relaxed. The operation had gone entirely according to plan, a welcome surprise. They’d jumped in, blasted their targets and jumped out again without loss. By all standards, it had been a textbook operation. Colin would be pleased, once he heard the news. Jeremy’s fleet would reform in three weeks, after picking off a whole series of targets. If every operation was successful, the Empire would face colossal problems in rebuilding…
But he knew that few of their targets had any tactical significance at all. They might wound the Empire’s economy, they might prick it’s pride, but they wouldn’t impede the war effort or cripple the Empire’s military strength. Given time, the Empire could put together a fleet that utterly outgunned the Shadow Fleet… and now they were on the alert. Just because Stacy Roosevelt had been incompetent didn’t mean that they were all incompetent. The enemy CO at Happy Daze had been cunning and very capable. What could he do with a squadron of superdreadnaughts?
I don’t want to know, Jeremy decided. It was possible that the CO would be shot for his failure. He disliked the thought intensely, but if it removed a competent player from the enemy side maybe it was worth it. But we might find out the hard way.
He stood up. “Send the tactical reports to my office,” he ordered, as he walked towards the hatch. He would have to assess every ship’s performance, then suggest areas they should focus on in exercises. There was nothing quite like action to expose weak points. “XO, you have the bridge.”