Falcone Strike (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 2) Read online

“That won’t be easy,” Commander Millikan said. “Everything I’ve heard about the Theocracy suggests that their people are kept in complete ignorance. Even starship officers never learn anything other than their own specialties.”

  “Which makes you wonder, really, how they maintain their society,” Commander Kent said sarcastically. “We cross-train our people for a reason.”

  “There are limits to how far people can be cross-trained,” the XO pointed out. “And really, would you be able to navigate a starship using only the information in your head?”

  “I’d want to be sure I could repair the navigational systems myself, if necessary,” Kent countered. He turned to look at Kat. “If we could kill or capture their engineering personnel, Captain, it could cripple their economy.”

  “Maybe not that much,” Commander Millikan said. “Their worlds are apparently largely pastoral. It doesn’t take much advanced knowledge to operate a farm.”

  “Unless you happen to want to increase your yield,” the XO said. “Hardscrabble farming is just that—hard.”

  Kat tapped the table sharply. “I intend to make a formal announcement tomorrow,” she said flatly. “We will not, of course, be docking at any fleet base before we cross the border, so there should be no risk of the secret getting out. However, I expect you to inform your subordinates that the Quiet Storm protocols are now solidly in effect. I do not want any unsecured data being stored, let alone transmitted, without clear authorization from me personally. This will cause problems, I know, but they have to be handled. We cannot risk any form of security breach.”

  She paused. “Are there any questions?”

  “It will cause . . . issues,” Commander Millikan warned. “No one knew they were signing up for a dangerous mission.”

  “They joined the Navy,” Kat said flatly. “They knew the job was dangerous when they took it.”

  She kept her expression blank with an effort. The Quiet Storm protocols included everything from personal terminals—frowned upon, but not actually forbidden—to paper diaries. If someone had been earmarked for a secret mission, they would have been told not to bring anything along those lines. Yet she’d known she couldn’t risk letting anyone know the truth before they left. The protocols would cause problems, which would just have to be handled. There was no other choice.

  “I will be holding another dinner once we cross the front lines,” she concluded. “At that point, we will pick our first targets. By then, we should also have a better grasp of our strengths and weaknesses.”

  She finished her coffee, then smiled. “I will withdraw now, in line with protocol, but feel free to stay here as long as you wish,” she added after a moment. Protocol dictated that the senior officer was always the first to leave. “Thank you for coming.”

  Rose followed her as she slipped out of the hatch. “Captain!”

  Kat turned to face the older woman. “Yes?”

  “We’re really going to war,” Rose said. “It’s not a joke, is it?”

  “No joke,” Kat said. It wasn’t nice, but part of her was enjoying Rose’s discomfort. “Once we cross the border, we will start looking for things to kill.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Well,” Lieutenant Cecelia Parkinson said as the tactical staff assembled in their compartment, “this is a surprise, isn’t it?”

  The spy cringed inwardly. He’d been told that they were going away from the war, not towards it . . . let alone carrying it deep into enemy space. He’d hoped he would have an excuse for doing nothing, for not breaking one set of oaths in hopes of saving his sister’s life, but it seemed he was to be deprived of any excuse at all. The Theocracy would expect him to do his utmost to help them or they would kill his sister . . .

  . . . and he had a priceless opportunity to do just that.

  We’re going to be unpredictable ghosts, he thought. Moving from star system to star system, picking our targets at random . . . they would have to get very lucky to have a battle squadron in position to catch us when they have too many stars to cover. But I could tell them where to place their ships.

  He fought to keep his expression under control, cursing the Theocracy’s luck. Maybe there was something to their religion after all. Random chance alone couldn’t have accounted for it, unless he’d just been very unlucky. But he would have needed to be unlucky at least three times over: the Theocracy had captured his sister; they’d discovered she was related to someone on active service; and now he was in position to actually do something for them, something that would betray all his oaths. And yet . . . what else could he do?

  “We’ll start new tactical exercises in an hour,” Lieutenant Parkinson said. The spy hated her—she was blonde, bubbly, and too young for her post. But then, she had done well at Cadiz; she’d probably deserved her promotion. If there were any dark secrets in her past, she’d hid them very well. “By then, I expect you all to come up with imaginative ways to use the resources at our disposal.”

  Sending them all into a sun would probably work, the spy thought darkly. But then, no one would ever know what I’d done.

  He looked at the tactical display, wishing he dared trust either side. If the Theocracy gave up his sister, they wouldn’t have anything more to hold over him . . . apart, of course, from the fact he’d committed treason. It was in their interests to keep his sister as long as possible, even if she was unhurt; they had no reason to return her just because he’d had enough of working for them without a clear reward. But the CIS would be worse; they’d take him, use him to feed the enemy false information . . . and if his sister happened to be killed in the process? Well, they’d be regretful, and they’d say all the right things, but it wouldn’t make any difference. The only hope for his sister’s life was to work with the Theocracy . . .

  . . . and that meant betraying the Commonwealth, once and for all.

  Kat had privately expected more trouble as the ragtag formation moved steadily towards the front lines, carefully evading most of the major shipping lanes, but—somewhat to her surprise—the problems they encountered were swiftly ironed out by a crew that had become remarkably motivated after they realized where they were going. The only real problem had appeared when one of the ships suffered drive node failure, which could have been disastrous, but Lightning had taken her in tow until the engineers had replaced the failed nodes. Overall, she had to admit, everything had proceeded much more smoothly than she had a right to expect. By the time they started their approach to the border, she couldn’t help feeling that the handful of ancient ships had become a viable squadron.

  “The course through hyperspace isn’t going to be easy,” the XO said. “I can see why the smugglers like this route, but the Theocracy will probably like it too.”

  Kat nodded, studying the holographic star chart. It wouldn’t be quite as bad as the passage through the Seven Sisters, but it would be quite bad enough, even without the occupational hazard of enemy ships patrolling their side of the border. The Commonwealth had kept a close eye on the sector before the war, knowing that smugglers, refugees, and spies used it to cross between the two powers; now, most of the patrol ships had been withdrawn. But was that true on the other side? Eighteen starships were much more visible than a single starship trying to hide. They might cross the border and run straight into trouble . . .

  Or a minefield, she added mentally. They mined quite a few of the routes in and out of their space.

  “We’ll make it through,” Davidson said confidently. “The real challenge will come once we’re on the other side.”

  Kat nodded. There were some worlds that should, logically, be bases for enemy operations . . . and others, she suspected, that were profoundly unimportant. And yet, did the logic even hold up? The Theocracy wasn’t interested in building an economic powerhouse, but a religious state. They might keep their industries well away from restive worlds . . .

  And we h
ave no idea what we’re going to be jumping into, she thought. We could run slap into something we can’t handle.

  “I was considering options,” the XO said. He cocked his head, using his implants to send orders to the room’s processor. The star chart changed its position, zeroing in on a star system close to the border. “This might be a good place to start operations.”

  Davidson frowned. “UNAS-RD-46785? We’ve been there.”

  “That’s where we met the freighter convoy,” Kat recalled. “Why there?”

  The XO smiled. “They used it as a place to route ships across the border,” he said. “I’d bet good money they’re still using it to route ships towards the front lines.”

  “That makes no sense,” Davidson said. “They’d be better off just forwarding the ships directly to the front lines.”

  “You’re thinking like a Marine, not a bureaucrat,” the XO said. “To a bureaucrat, the established routine is the holiest of holies. That system is used for routing ships over the prewar border? It’s still used for routing ships towards the war front. And it does make a certain kind of sense. They wouldn’t want to send freighters into a war zone, so they’d want to have a place to halt and collect the latest pieces of information before advancing onwards. Why not the system they’re already used to using?”

  “There’s nothing there,” Kat pointed out.

  “That’s the beauty of it,” the XO countered. “There’s no one there to watch them, so they can carry out their operations in perfect secrecy. And the system is centrally located along the border stars; they can draw food supplies from five other systems, assemble there, and then advance to the war front.”

  Kat considered it for a long moment. “It seems a good place to start as you stated, Mr. XO,” she said finally. “And we can detach a couple of the destroyers, send them to probe other star systems for potential targets.”

  “Or even raid two of them, if we see a chance,” Davidson offered. “Give them something else to think about, apart from us. We could even run drones through the system claiming to be superdreadnoughts.”

  “Then they’d wonder why the superdreadnoughts weren’t launching missiles at them,” the XO growled. “It wouldn’t take them long to deduce that they’re nothing more than drones.”

  “They’d still have to take the threat seriously,” Davidson said. “Or we could just keep springing their tripwires until they don’t take any threats seriously . . .”

  “And then stick a knife in their ribs,” Kat said. She studied the star chart for a long moment, then looked at the XO. “Is there any halfway reasonable chance of contacting the local smugglers?”

  “Perhaps,” the XO said. “However, if they do have bases within enemy space, it’s quite likely they do so with the blessing of the local authorities. They may not be inclined to work with us.”

  Davidson lifted his eyebrows. “The Theocrats allow the smugglers to have their bases?”

  “The Theocrats ban everything that makes life worth living,” the XO said. “If my brother is to be believed, whatever central authority may say, the local authorities have always had a cozy relationship with the smugglers. They’d be in deep shit if they were ever caught, of course, so they’ve learned to be very careful. It suits both sides to keep everything firmly under wraps.”

  Kat shook her head in disbelief. “It sounds insane.”

  “Tell me something,” the XO said. “How many things are there, on Tyre, that are banned outright? That the mere possession of is considered a crime?”

  “Not many,” Kat said after a moment’s thought. “Why?”

  “If you wanted to drink yourself to death, no one would stop you,” the XO said. “If you wanted to lose yourself in a simulated world, or wire your brain for pleasure, no one would stop you either. There simply aren’t many things that are considered criminal, let alone sinful. The Commonwealth doesn’t judge as long as people keep their vices in private and non-consenting people are not harmed.

  “But the Theocracy? Everything is forbidden unless permitted. Taking a drink could earn you a whipping. Questioning religious leaders could get you burned to death. Having sex outside marriage could result in castration or worse; a woman committing adultery could expect to be executed for defiling her marriage bond. There are far more ways to push the limits in the Theocracy and far more demand for forbidden items.”

  “Because there are so much more of them,” Kat mused.

  “Exactly,” the XO said. “There’s much more opportunity for sin—and, once you’re committed, you may as well keep going. You won’t be forgiven if the Inquisitors find out.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been told you can make yourself rich for life by shipping mild euphoric drugs into the Theocracy,” he added. “Or, if you want to live dangerously, books or datachips that haven’t been vetted by the Inquisition. Or even something as simple as bottles of alcohol. There’s no lack of demand.”

  Kat smiled. “We’ll have to see what we find,” she said. “Are there any other problems?”

  “The observer has spent most of her time in her cabin,” the XO said. “I did take her on a tour of Thundergod, which has the most integrated crew in the squadron, but she didn’t seem interested. It’s unusual, Captain. I’d expect a woman from my world to be more accepting of danger.”

  “She is a politician,” Davidson said.

  “I looked her up,” the XO replied dryly. “Apparently, she worked for several ministers before she was assigned to Sandy McNeal; she knows, or she certainly should know, the dangers of the real world. She didn’t grow up on a nice peaceful planet that didn’t face any real threats. It’s quite possible she may have been sent here to get rid of her.”

  “I did wonder about that,” Kat said. “Is she not popular?”

  “She isn’t meant to be popular,” the XO said. “Once elected, our politicians serve only a single five-year term, then retire from public life. Civil servants such as herself are meant to support the elected ministers, not try to become popular and run for office themselves. It’s quite possible she pushed too far . . . or that she accepted the assignment under the genuine belief that she was heading away from the war, where she could carry out her observations in peace.”

  “How unfortunate for her,” Davidson observed.

  Kat shrugged. “I’ll try and make time to speak with her, when I have a moment,” she said, reluctantly. “However, as long as she isn’t causing trouble, what she does in her cabin isn’t likely to be our concern.”

  The XO nodded. “I’ve had to alter the training schedules a couple of times,” he said. “A handful of the older ships are having problems keeping a crew on duty at all times; I think we may have to concede that we’re not going to be able to obey regulations, not now.”

  “As long as the mission is a success, no one will care,” Kat predicted. Ideally, she needed at least two hundred additional crewmen, but she knew she’d been lucky to get enough personnel to provide each ship with a skeleton crew. “We can fudge the figures, if necessary, and time our attacks so our ships have a full crew.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the XO said. He looked down at his datapad for a long moment. “With your permission, then, I will return to my duties.”

  “Granted,” Kat said. “And thank you.”

  The XO nodded, then rose to his feet and left the cabin. Kat watched him go, then turned to Davidson. “Pat?”

  “No major problems, so far,” Davidson assured her. “Except, of course, that someone hasn’t been keeping up with her exercises.”

  “If only I had the time,” Kat said. She missed sparring with him too, although she knew he went easy on her. It wasn’t as if she had the time to actually become a true martial artist, or the inclination to try. “How are you coping with the refugees?”

  “Most of them are very motivated, although a handful are of two minds about the w
hole thing,” Davidson said. “On one hand, they grew up with tales of the evils of the Theocracy; on the other, they’re trying hard to blend into Commonwealth society and they don’t want to remain a separate subculture.”

  Kat nodded. Tyre had always been welcoming to immigrants, but it had insisted on doing this on its terms. Immigrants were expected to blend into the mainstream within a single generation; an immigrant community that tried to remain isolated would eventually be broken apart by pressures from the mainstream or simply deported. She could understand why the refugees wanted to keep something of their old society, but Tyre could not allow them to do so. They were harming their children by clinging to the past.

  “As long as they are prepared to fight when the time comes,” she said. It was, no doubt, a problem that would solve itself, in time. The first generation would pass away and the second would be less motivated to keep itself together, while the mainstream was reaching out a welcoming hand. “Are they?”

  “Oh, yes,” Davidson said. “Several of them are in line for Marine training; they will probably get their chance, if they survive this mission. Proper experience is a right booster when the supervisors start taking a look at applicants.”

  Kat nodded. The Royal Tyre Marine Corps had been far better than anyone else at absorbing recruits from new member states; it made sense they’d be better at taking in the refugees too. But then, the Marines broke their recruits down to the bare essentials and then rebuilt them into Marines. It wasn’t something that could be done on a large scale . . . after all, she reflected, everyone who volunteered for boot camp had known what they were getting into and they’d done it anyway.

  “Then all we can do is wait for the first chance to put them to the test,” she said. She paused; they hadn’t had an opportunity for a proper chat since before she’d had her . . . disagreement . . . with Justin Deveron. They’d both been far too busy. “How did you cope with Tyre?”

  “I don’t think I like High Society,” Davidson said. “How did they manage to produce you?”