Thomas shook his head. The Darwinists believed that all races were in permanent competition, one that could only end with one race destroying all the others. They had urged the extermination of every known alien race and at least one of their members had actually put theory into practice. They claimed it was an issue of the survival of the fittest. Thomas believed that they were purely racists, nothing more. As long as the aliens were controlled and knew their place, he had no objection to bringing them into the Empire.
“No,” he said. “I think…”
He broke off as Frandsen’s wristcom bleeped. “My commander has returned,” Frandsen said. He stood up. “If you won’t join us, your men will be transported to a place where they will be safe, at least until the end of the war. You may find yourself being tapped for messenger duty.”
Thomas watched him leave. As the hatch hissed closed behind the Marine, he shook his head. Frandsen talked a good game, he knew, but preserving the Empire was vital. It was all that kept humanity from tearing itself apart, weakening it to the point where the aliens could rise up and exterminate the human race. He rattled his chains mournfully and settled back in his chair, trying to find some comfort. God along knew how long they were going to leave him there.
Chapter Forty-Four
“So I brought the arsenal ships to Sanctuary,” Daria concluded. She and the remainder of the rebel leadership had come onboard the General Montgomery at once, allowing Colin a chance to realise what had happened while he’d been retreating from Greenland. The rebellion had come uncomfortably close to total defeat. “Once we got there, we engaged them with maximum force.”
“Expending a great many missiles in the process,” Salgak said. The Geek seemed irked by the loss of so many missiles, even though losing the asteroid or the arsenal ships would have been far more worrying. “You used a great deal of overkill.”
“There is no overkill,” Daria said, firmly. She shot Mariko a wry glance. “There is only ‘open fire’ and ‘reload.’”
“The fact remains,” the Geek said, as his implants whirred in agitation, “that you fired off far more missiles than you needed to use.”
Colin tapped the table. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It won us time to evacuate Sanctuary and move to a new base. Even if the Empire knows what happened here, it will take them time to react, so the first priority is moving and re-securing the contents of this base.”
“It is already underway,” Cordova assured him. “The population will be dispersed elsewhere.”
“That leaves us all with a rather more worrying question,” Anderson said, flatly. “How did they find the base in the first place?”
Colin had been wondering about that himself. The timing was a little odd, to say the least. If Imperial Intelligence had known about Sanctuary prior to his mutiny, he would have expected Percival to drop in a squadron of superdreadnaughts or two, just so he could catch Colin when he returned from a raid. It actually suggested that Percival had received new intelligence, but from where? Had someone sold him the location of Sanctuary and the target Colin intended to hit next, or was it just a ridiculous coincidence?
“Unknown as yet,” Hester said. Her cold voice seemed calmer, somehow. “The logical solution is that someone sold us out to the Empire. Betrayal is a fact of life in the Beyond. I imagine that none of the prisoners would know who…”
“No,” Anderson said. He had already requested permission to interrogate the prisoners, but none of the captured Blackshirts were senior enough to know the identity of the Empire’s spies. Colin suspected that interrogating them was pointless, so they could be transported to the holding world until the end of the war, whoever won. “Imperial Intelligence would feel that no one had a need to know, perhaps including the commander of the battlecruiser squadron. It could be anyone.”
Colin shook his head. “It wasn’t someone who knew about the secret shipyards,” he said, “or the Empire would have targeted them first. Sanctuary is only important as a symbol of what we can do, not part of our supply line or future plans to build superdreadnaughts of our own. We know that some people can be trusted…”
“Not everyone knows about their existence, let alone their location,” Hester said, in her whispery voice. “I do not know their location.”
“What you don’t know,” Daria said, “you cannot be made to tell.”
“I know the logic,” Hester said, tartly. “I am merely pointing out that…”
Colin tapped the table again, harder this time. “That is very much a side issue at the moment,” he said. “The problem we face is much worse. We were forced to retreat from Greenland and our ships are damaged, while the Empire will probably start gloating over its great victory. We need to move fast or our would-be allies will start wondering if we’re going to lose.”
He thought about the message they’d sent, bouncing from relay station to relay station, all over the Empire. How many would be inspired by it? How many would risk everything to mutiny against their commanders and join the rebellion? How many would die in futile battles as the Empire clamped down hard on any traces of insurgency or resistance? How could he let them down? The rebellion must not fail.
The display lit up at his command. “How many arsenal ships do we have on hand?”
“Three squadrons of nine ships each,” Daria said. She didn’t seem surprised by the question, but then, someone with her accomplished political skills would understand the need to strike back as soon as possible. “The ones I… expended are being reloaded now.”
Colin nodded. He could see a handful of possible counters to the arsenal ships already… and even though Percival was an idiot, the commander he’d faced at Greenland was smart enough to think of the countermeasures for himself. They had to move as quickly as possible, if only because the Empire might well have sensor records of the arsenal ships in action. Once they got over their shock, they would evolve countermeasures. He reminded himself of that, time and time again. He didn’t dare fall into the trap of regarding the arsenal ships as an invincible weapon.
“Good,” he said. “In that case…”
He looked around the compartment, his gaze moving from face to face and judging commitment. “In that case,” he repeated, “it is time to go after Camelot itself.”
The reaction was immediate. Cordova, Daria and Hester seemed to love the idea. Salgak, Anderson and the others seemed to think that Colin had lost his mind. He could understand their position — Camelot was the most heavily-defended world in the sector, after all — yet he didn’t share it. Taking Camelot, and its facilities, more or less intact would ensure that the entire sector fell into his lap. Leaving Percival there ran the risk of all of his other gains and conquests being reversed. And besides, they needed a stunning victory and taking an Imperial Navy fleet base would give them just that. No one had taken an Imperial Navy base since the First Interstellar War.
“It won’t be easy,” Colin said, calmly. “We will be running a considerable risk.”
“It isn’t just a considerable risk,” Salgak said. “It is an insane risk. In two years, we would be deploying our own squadrons of superdreadnaughts, backed up by our own improved cruisers and destroyers. We would be in a far stronger position to wage war on the Empire — and to recover from a defeat — once we have our own shipping yards producing new ships. We can wait. Time is on our side.”
“Time is not on our side,” Hester said, flatly. Her cold eyes blazed defiance. “The Empire was shocked by our rebellion, true, and we’re a long way from Earth. The Core Worlds don’t have any idea that something has gone badly wrong. How long until that changes? The competent leaders on Earth will dispatch other starships to this sector, including a commander who actually has more than two brain cells, and crush every budding insurgency in sight. If we do not move to capitalise on our success now, we risk having the Empire swamp us through superior resources.”