“Take us into missile range,” he ordered. “Then fire at will.”
Penny watched in horror as the enemy launched a second barrage of missiles. The point defence network had collapsed completely, forcing the techs to shut it down and then reboot the system, knowing all the while that the enemy were pressing their advantage. It would take too long to reboot the system completely, but they had no choice. Without it, they were doomed.
“Recall the gunboats, order them to provide targeting solutions,” Wachter ordered. But she knew it was just a stopgap at best. As long as the network was down, their ability to operate as a unified force was non-existent. “And then order the orbital facilities to open fire, even at extreme range.”
Penny nodded. The enemy arsenal ships, having fired their missiles, were retreating back towards the edge of the gravity shadow while the superdreadnaughts were firing a third barrage. Admiral Wachter’s ships had returned fire, naturally, but the enemy point defence network was up and running. They’d be able to hold themselves together far longer than the Morrison Fleet.
“And warn all hands to brace for impact,” Wachter ordered. “This is going to be bad.”
He was right, Penny saw, as the first wave of missiles crashed down on the superdreadnaughts. Without the network, various ships went after the same targets while other missiles were left alone to slam into vulnerable superdreadnaughts. Shields flickered, then failed, leaving the ships defenceless. One by one, the superdreadnaughts began to take heavy damage. Beyond them, even the orbital fortifications came under fire.
She gritted her teeth as the enemy fired yet another barrage. Half of the defending cruisers and destroyers were already gone and most of the remainder had taken damage. The Morrison Fleet, once so capable, had been smashed. Wachter gave her a sidelong look, then shrugged. He knew when the battle was lost.
“Hold fire,” he ordered. “Contact the rebels and offer them our surrender.”
Penny braced herself. It was possible that the rebels weren’t in the mood to take prisoners — or that they wouldn’t simply get the message until it was too late. Messages could be lost easily in the chaos of a battle, everyone knew. And then there were the Blackshirts from Earth. Would they tamely accept an order to surrender?
“The rebels are holding fire,” the tactical officer said.
“Picking up a message,” the communications officer added. “They’re ordering us to drop our remaining shields and shut down our drives.”
“Make it so,” Wachter ordered. “I…”
The security officer swore. “Admiral, the Marines report that some of the Blackshirts have turned on them,” he said. “They’re advancing towards the bridge and CIC.”
“Seal the compartment,” Wachter ordered. “Alert the Marines on the orbital fortifications. They are not to allow them to fall into anyone’s hands.”
Penny unbuttoned her holster. She’d spent enough time practicing at the firing range to qualify for a marksman badge, although she hadn’t bothered to actually apply. It would have appeared in her file and warned potential enemies that she could actually hit her target. A quick check revealed that someone had taken down the internal security system. The Blackshirts and their allies might just make it to the bridge after all.
“Contact the rebels,” Wachter ordered. Somehow, he still managed to sound calm. “Inform them of our situation and request assistance.”
Penny stared at him. “You think they’ll help?”
“If they want the planet’s facilities, they’ll help,” Wachter said. He nodded towards the status board. Several orbital fortresses had dropped out entirely, suggesting that the Blackshirts had taken control. “They won’t have any choice.”
“Director Smyth is broadcasting on all channels,” the communications officer said, suddenly. “He’s accusing you of treason and ordering all loyal officers to take you into custody and resume the battle.”
Penny shook her head in disbelief. She had little regard for Imperial Intelligence’s intelligence, but they had to realise the battle was lost. If they hadn’t been in the gravity shadow, they could have flickered out and rebooted the network at leisure, yet they were definitely trapped. And now, with shields and drives gone, they would be sitting ducks if they tried to resume the fight. The rebels would blow them away within seconds.
“Admiral,” she said, very quietly, “shouldn’t we neutralise the ships? And the orbital facilities?”
Wachter hesitated, considering it. “Only if we lose control to the Blackshirts,” he said. “And only then.”
Penny lifted her eyebrows. “Sir,” she said, “that will put more superdreadnaughts in rebel hands…”
“All badly damaged,” Wachter reminded her. “One way or another, the war will be over by the time the rebels can put the superdreadnaughts back into service.”
“I don’t understand,” Penny said, but she knew that was a lie. If the rebels won, there was no point in destroying starships and facilities out of spite. The Empire would still need to rebuild, even if the Thousand Families were gone. And Wachter was loyal to the Empire. “I…”
She leaned forward. “It’s been a honour, sir,” she added. “And thank you.”
Wachter nodded in silent understanding.
Together, they prepared themselves for the worst.
“They’re asking for help,” the communications officer said, surprised. “Half of the fortresses seem to be in a state of mutiny.”
Colin wasn’t too surprised. Whatever authority the Thousand Families had granted Admiral Wachter would come with caveats attached. It was probable that he didn’t have complete control over the planetary defences, which might well remain under someone else’s control… someone more known for loyalty than competence. And the Blackshirts rarely surrendered, knowing what their fate would be at rebel hands. Colin had liberated a dozen worlds controlled by the Blackshirts… and very few of them had survived long enough to be interned.
But it was a major problem. It seemed as though a civil war was breaking out on Morrison, which meant… what? If he inserted his Marines, who knew which side they were meant to be supporting? Or should he try to keep them out of the fight and wait for a victor to emerge? But the longer it took, the greater the chance the loyalists would manage to purge and reboot their systems and then he would have to punch his way through the rest of the defences.
He looked over at Anderson. “Thoughts?”
Anderson seemed surprised to be asked. “The Marines will have to be very careful,” he said, finally. “If the Blackshirts have the support of local security officers and embedded agents, it will be very hard to tell friend from foe.”
“They’re not our friends,” Colin commented, grimly. “They’re… surrendering, at best.”
He wondered, absently, just how far they could trust anyone who had served under Admiral Wachter. The most loyal rebels — as if that wasn’t a contradiction in terms — had been the victims of their commanding officers, not the trusted subordinates. Colin himself might not have rebelled if his ambitions had been permissible, within the system. But Admiral Wachter had worked hard to get the loyalty of his crewmen. How many of them could be trusted to join the Shadow Fleet?
Maybe we can get Admiral Wachter to join us, he thought. We might be lucky.
“Send the Marines,” he ordered. “I want them to concentrate on the superdreadnaughts, then the orbital fortresses. The planet can wait.”