Wachter waited until the last officer was removed, then he smiled coldly at the remaining officers. “Doesn’t the room seem smaller without them in it?”
His smile grew wider, but still lacked warmth. “If I had the time, I would sack all of you,” he added. “You did nothing to stop your peers from stealing money, abusing personnel and generally ensuring that Morrison wasted away. A few more decades of such treatment and the rebels wouldn’t have to bother attacking the system. As it is, I will expect one hundred percent commitment from each of you to refurbishing the starships and defences before the rebels attack. If I catch you skimming, slacking or being generally obnoxious, I will put you out the airlock personally. Do you understand me?”
Penny concealed her amusement with an effort. The officers looked thoroughly cowed, although she doubted that would last long. They were probably already composing the notes they intended to send to their patrons, protesting that Wachter was severely overstepping his authority. Penny suspected they would be astonished when they discovered that, if anything, Wachter had the power to purge them all and spit on their remains. No doubt the patronage networks would respond, eventually, but by then the rebels would either have been defeated… or it wouldn’t matter in any case.
“Now,” Wachter said. “We have seven squadrons of superdreadnaughts here. Only three of them, according to my teams, can be considered combat-worthy. The others will need some heavy refurbishment before they can even be considered more than scrap metal, let alone moving targets. The squadron commanding officers were among those removed. Let’s see if their replacements can do a better job.”
Penny suspected that no one on Morrison had ever expected an inspection by a neutral inspector, let alone someone like Admiral Wachter. The Admiral seemed a human dynamo of energy, moving from ship to ship and inspecting them personally, promoting, demoting or even sacking officers on the spot. After two bullying rings were uncovered, large numbers of ordinary crewmen were switched around or added to the holding pens, where they were forced to wait with their former superiors. The Admiral, perhaps wisely, had banned all out-system communications for at least a week.
But it was an immensely difficult task. Each hour brought new problems for the Admiral to solve, ranging from personnel discipline to a colossal shortage of spare parts. The Admiral exploded with rage when he discovered that the industrial facilities had been working flat-out to produce spares, but none of the production had ever been sent to the fleet. Instead, they had been sold to civilians — or pirates. There were enough starships that existed only on paper for Penny to suspect that some of them had simply been sold to pirates. Their so-called commanding officers had simply pocketed the funds intended to keep them going.
“I want you to work with the intelligence crews,” Wachter told her, a week after their arrival at Morrison. “We’re closer to the rebels now; we should start collecting better intelligence.”
Penny was privately relieved. She had never been a very confrontational person before the Mind Techs had gone to work on her; now, she could barely endure raised voices when confronting a single person. Even hearing the Admiral chew out one of his new subordinates made her cringe inwardly, though she knew she wasn’t the target. On the other hand, with someone praising her work and generally looking out for her, she found herself enjoying her career again. She couldn’t help wondering, no matter how treacherous the thought was, if that freedom was what the rebels enjoyed.
There was no shortage of intelligence flowing into Morrison, but the intelligence officers had been either incompetent or focused on internal security. She wasn’t surprised at that either; the crews stationed at Morrison had been so badly treated by their seniors that there were regular threats of mutiny and Marines had had to be deployed numerous times just to quieten them down. Admiral Wachter hadn’t shuffled the crews just to break up bullying rings; he’d also hoped to prevent any planned mutiny from taking place. If the reports from Camelot were accurate, the force that should have defeated the rebels and reclaimed the planet had mutinied against its commanders.
It could happen here, Penny thought. And we’d lose the war.
She pushed the thought aside and turned to the intelligence. In hindsight, it was clear that the Thousand Families should have been tipped off before the Battle of Camelot. There were enough pieces of intelligence for someone to put the picture together, even though Percival had insisted on not reporting anything until the rebels were defeated. She gritted her teeth at the memory — if there was one thing good about the way she’d been treated, it was that she found it hard to think of the bastard — and started looking for anything that post-dated the battle. The rebels were definitely on the offensive.
But they had no choice, she knew. She’d gone over the figures time and time again. A long war suited the Empire, if only because it had a colossal production advantage. The rebels would know that too. They’d understand that their only chance for outright victory was to press the offensive as hard as possible.
And yet they managed to take out the Jupiter Shipyards, she thought. What happens if they take out the other two Class-III shipyards?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. The Empire could still replace them and start constructing new superdreadnaughts far faster than the rebels. It didn’t change the balance of power, at least not in the short term. Or so she hoped.
“The intelligence is still outdated,” she said, when Wachter stepped into her office. He’d given her a suite next to his, one intended for a Vice Admiral. She found it hard to imagine that anyone would need such a large suite. Even Percival hadn’t brought along a small army of servants and pleasure slaves. “But it’s clear they are advancing towards Morrison.”
Wachter smirked, but there was no malice in it. “As anyone who could read a map could tell you.”
Penny nodded. “I’ve been considering options,” she said. She pointed to the star chart, indicating stars that were likely to be targeted specifically. “We could set small ambushes in these systems, trying to drain their forces.”
“Chancy,” Wachter said. “What would happen if we found ourselves out of place?”
It was a good question, Penny had to admit. And it was more insightful than anything Percival had ever said.
“We station two or three squadrons here, here and here,” she said, altering the map so it showed flicker range. “We also station courier boats in each of the potential targets. When the rebels arrive, the boats jump out and summon the battle squadrons.”
“We don’t have the superdreadnaughts to spare,” Wachter said, slowly. “I’d prefer not to deploy any of them until we have every last ship in good condition.”
Penny nodded in agreement. Some of the superdreadnaughts orbiting Morrison were in such bad condition that cockroaches and rats had taken up residence in the tubes. The entire ship had had to be decompressed, then carefully cleaned to remove all traces of their presence before repairs could begin. They’d even started to chew through sealed compartments and destroy valuable components. The Admiral was right. They didn’t dare risk sending out the superdreadnaughts until they had the entire formation in acceptable condition.
“Still, we can deploy battlecruisers, maybe even heavy cruisers,” Wachter said. “Get in, land a blow or two, then get out. At the very least, the rebels would have to cover their flanks.”