The Empire disliked all of the revolutionary groups, of course, but it reserved a special hatred for the Geeks. They feared that the Geeks would one day produce a weapon that could make the entire Imperial Navy obsolete overnight, or that they would succeed in hacking into Imperial Navy starships and trigger their self-destructs. Indeed, all the cut-outs built into Imperial Navy computer systems were designed to prevent an outside force from hacking in, something Colin found rather reassuring. The thought of Admiral Percival being able to blow up his ships simply by transmitting a command code to their systems wasn’t a pleasant thought at all.
And perhaps the Empire had good reason to worry. There was far more industrial talent and resources along the Rim than anyone, even Imperial Intelligence, had guessed. Combined with the materials he’d hijacked from the Annual Fleet, the Rim could become a real threat to the Empire. It would take time, however, and he had to ensure that the Empire remained off-balance. If his calculations were accurate, Admiral Percival would know about what had happened at Jackson’s Folly by now.
“We have the time,” Colin assured him. The Empire might have the force of a sledgehammer, but it needed a target — and locating the hidden shipyards would be almost impossible. Daria had told him that the Geeks kept most of their facilities hidden away from everyone, even her. “And, once we are ready, we can go on the offensive.”
“We have been discussing the issue,” Hester said. “I represent a union of underground groups that is interested in taking part in your war. We do, however, have two concerns. The first one is simple. What will replace the Empire after you win?”
Colin hesitated. If the truth were told, he hadn’t considered the question properly — and he had only focused on the Imperial Navy. He knew that the Empire needed some heavy reform, yet some would want that reform to go further than others. The Empire’s only real justification for its existence was that it united the human race — after the disunity prior to the First Interstellar War had nearly seen the human race exterminated — and breaking the Empire up would be disastrous. Yet… others would disagree. They would see the Empire’s very existence as evil and demand that it be broken up, leading — inevitably — to humanity fighting wars between the successor states. And then there were the aliens… very few humans would want to grant them freedom, not after centuries of propaganda about how the aliens would destroy the human race, given half a chance.
“I believe that it would be better to destroy the Empire first and then worry about the aftermath,” he said, finally. “I could promise you the universe, yet I might not be able to keep that promise.”
Hester’s lips twitched. It took Colin a second to realise that it was a smile… and that she couldn’t smile properly. The Empire had taken that from her, along with everything else. He did wonder why she didn’t employ a body-shaper to repair the damage, but he had to admit that it made a hell of a message. She bore her scars proudly.
“That says well of you,” Hester said. “We have too many factions here who would want promises before the war had even begun, let alone been won, and refuse to play unless they got what they wanted.”
“Thank you,” Colin said. He smiled inwardly at her reaction. “And what was the second concern?”
Hester reached out and tapped the terminal on the desk, inserting a datachip into the system and displaying a star chart in front of them. “We have been waging our own war against the Empire for years, before you decided to join us,” she said. Colin felt a twinge of guilt. Hester had been fighting the good fight for over forty years, while Colin had been an infant, and then Admiral Percival’s client. It had taken a shocking personal betrayal for him to realise just what the Empire truly was, not a concern for the humans caught under its iron heel. “Many of our number have been captured and sentenced to Garstang. We want them liberated from the Empire.”
Colin followed her pointing finger. Garstang was the Empire’s latest penal world, a barely-habitable world on the edge of Sector 117. The convicts — including their families — were loaded into single-shot capsules, given a small amount of supplies and shot down to the planet’s surface. Some penal worlds managed to form civilisations and tame their worlds, allowing the Empire to take them over and incorporate them into the Empire; others remained hellish worlds, ruled by warlords and criminals. The Empire didn’t care. There was no shortage of rebels, criminals and undesirables to tame the penal worlds — or die trying.
He had to admit that it made an excellent first target. The penal worlds were defended, but they rarely had starships assigned to their defence, choosing instead to rely on orbital weapons platforms. The Imperial Navy crewmen assigned to the planets were hardly the best in the service — some of them had a habit of recovering convict women from the surface and taking them into orbit, where they were forced to service the crew — and a single superdreadnaught could probably blow right through the defences without suffering any damage.
“Tell me something,” he said, looking at Cordova. A heavy cruiser could have coped with the defences of a penal world, if not easily. “Why didn’t you go after them yourself?”
“We couldn’t get a fleet of transports together,” Cordova admitted. Behind him, Daria nodded. “There was no way of getting the convicts off the world before reinforcements arrived from the nearest system.”
Colin nodded. The penal worlds would have a picket ship floating out nearby, drives and weapons stepped down — rendering it invisible to passive sensors. As soon as his fleet arrived, that ship would power up and flicker out, racing to the nearest world with an Imperial Navy squadron. If he went there with his full fleet, however, that picket would have to race to Camelot to summon reinforcements, and that would take at least three days. The most pessimistic estimate Colin could come up with was that they would have at least a week before they faced a force capable of destroying the Shadow Fleet. A week would be long enough to pick up quite a few people from the planet’s surface. They would just have to be careful that they didn’t take any real criminals with the rebels.
“Very well,” he said, finally. It would be an easy mission and it would blacken the Empire’s eye. It would also be a propaganda blow against the Empire’s penal system. “We will make that world our first target. I trust that you can provide transport ships for personnel lift?”
“Easily,” Daria said. She grinned. “I tell them that they’re going to be escorted by nine superdreadnaughts and they will be delighted to come along and join the fun.”
Colin grinned back. “And then we can start the real work,” he added. A plan was already unfolding in his mind. It would be risky, but if they could pull it off, the rewards would be worthwhile. He looked up at the Geek. “Can you modify a pair of bulk freighters for me?”
“Of course,” Salgak said. The Geek’s great head — so heavy that it had to be held in place with extra support — turned from side to side. His mechanical eye tracked Colin’s face. “What would you like us to do with them?”
Colin told him.
Chapter Eleven
“You understand what you have to do?”
Lieutenant-Commander (Gunboat) Markus Wilhelm nodded. He was a tall dark-haired man; seemingly too young for his rank and position, but gunboat pilots never lasted long. The Imperial Navy used them for reconnaissance and communication missions, even though they were easy targets to anyone with the right sensors and weapons. The Academy encouraged skilful young cadets to try out for gunboat duty, although Colin suspected — in his darker moments — in the hopes that ambitious and capable cadets would either get themselves killed or burn out early.