Firstborn by Brandon Sanderson

“Kern told me that you might have found a way to fake the transmissions coming in and out of Varion’s ship.”
    “The long distance ones, yes,” the emperor said, frowning. “But it’s far better just to spy on him. If we started fabricating messages, it wouldn’t take long for Varion and his men to discover the trick. We’d trade a long-term tactical advantage for a few minutes of confusion.”
    “Your majesty,” Dennison said, “there
is
no more long-term. If Varion wins this day, then we are all dead.”
    The emperor’s frown deepened. He sat in thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. “What do you propose?” he finally asked.
    What
am
I proposing?
Dennison thought.
I’ve failed enough. Why pull the entire empire down with me?
    He started to tell the emperor he’d meant nothing by the comments, but something made him stop. Optimism and pessimism. He’d learned many things from watching Varion—tactics, strategy, how to manipulate a squadron. But it seemed he’d never learned the one thing that was most important.
    Confidence.
    “I’ll need a crew of technicians and aides,” Dennison said, “and these ten monitors beside your throne. Oh, and a tech who is familiar with that bugging system we have on Varion’s
klage
.”
    The emperor continued to sit in his command chair for a moment, looking up at Dennison appraisingly. Then, surprisingly, he stood, calling to one of the admirals. A few moments later a young technician was ushered into the command center.
    “You can hack the traitor’s
klage
data lines?” Dennison asked the thin man. “Sending false information to Varion’s ship?”
    The technician nodded
    “How long can you keep it up?” Dennison asked.
    “It depends,” the technician said. “He has no reason to suspect a bug in his transmitter—he doesn’t know about the technology. But changing his information will create some interference that his technicians should notice and pick apart. If I’d have to guess, I’d say maybe a half hour or so.”
    Dennison nodded thoughtfully.
    “My lord,” the tech continued. “It won’t be a very useful half hour. We can send false messages in, and we can block the real transmissions from his admirals. But we can’t stop orders going
out
from the
Voidhawk
, so the nine other battle groups will soon realize Varion no longer knows what is truly happening, and is relying on bad information.”
    “No matter,” Dennison said. “Prepare to hack the line. I want you to make it seem that the fleets in the other nine battles are doing exactly as I say. Instead of the real reports Varion’s commanders are sending, give him the fabrications I describe.”
    The technician nodded, gathering a small crew and moving to a set of consoles at the side of the room.
    “What good will this do us, Dennison?” the emperor asked quietly. “Buy us a little time, perhaps? Sow a little confusion?”
    “Yes,” Dennison said. “Make certain your admirals make good use of it.”
    “What of the tenth battle?” the emperor asked. “That’s the one where Varion himself commands in person. We can’t fool his own eyes—and that battle is happening the closest to the Point. If he wins there, he comes here, and none of our fleets will be able to stop him.”
    Dennison turned, glancing at the tenth map. The
Voidhawk
, Varion’s own flagship, flew there in its glory. Dennison looked away from the ship, scanning the screen, searching for a particular squadron of fighters. They were always at the forefront of the battles where Varion himself was present. It was led by a particular pilot: the woman who had walked beside Varion on Kress.
    Dennison walked over to the admiral who was contending with Varion in this tenth battle. “My lord, I need you to do something for me. Take five squadrons of fighters, and make certain to destroy
every single fighter
in that unit at mark 566.”
    “Five squadrons?” the admiral asked with surprise.
    Dennison nodded. “Nothing