“Throttling back,” Sullivan said, and Jack did the same, pulling behind the missiles again. Theseus had no time to launch a second strike, and their full salvo smoothly raced to their target, forming into the attack pattern programmed by the computer. The enemy helmsman was good, nursing his wounded ship from side to side, trying to throw off the targeting systems, to buy them the best chance of survival.
A ripple of explosions washed across the enemy ship, a cloud of debris spreading on all sides from the hull breaches. Theseus now resembled Churchill, battered and beaten, but still sped on towards her target, enough of the ship intact to carry them through hendecaspace, the drive intact. Jack looked at the mess ahead, cursing.
“Looks like it's just the two of us again,” Sullivan said.
“I guess it is,” Jack replied. “We both know there's only one thing left to do.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” his friend replied. “I'm with you. We can't let Dirk die in vain. Or all the others.” He paused, then added, “Do me a favor.”
“If I've got time.”
“You will. When this is all over, look up my granddaughter on Callisto, and tell her I loved her with all my heart.”
“Mo,” he began, as his systems faded out, his fighter's engine dying. He could make out Sullivan's fighter racing ahead, reaching out towards the enemy battlecruiser, diving towards the heart of the superstructure. “Mo, damn it all...”
“Those new ships were pretty easy to hack, and you gave me an open channel to work with,” his friend replied. “Hanging around with McGuire so long, you shouldn't be surprised I picked up a few tricks.”
“You don't have to…”
“Yes, I do. You've got a daughter back there who's just lost one parent. She's not going to lose another on the same day. I've got no one to leave behind, and I guess this just about wraps up my unfinished business.” He paused, then added, “Coming in on target now. Thirty seconds to go.”
Jack stared at the display, and said, “Mo, I...”
“No regrets, Jack, not one. Understand?”
Fighting bitter tears, Jack replied, “It has been an honor and a privilege both to serve with you, and to call you my friend. Save me a seat at the bar.”
“Will do,” Sullivan replied. “And the pleasure has been all mine. Happy landings.”
A roar of static filled the channel as Sullivan's fighter hit home, crashing through one of the larger hull breaches. He had more than enough velocity to turn his ship into a kinetic missile, and after an agonizing pause, Theseus began to crumple, spinning end over end as another series of explosions raced through the ship, finally disintegrating as the damage reached the arsenal, a brief flash of flame lighting the heavens for an instant, leaving only a cloud of twisted metal in its wake.
“Goodbye, old friend,” Jack said, quietly. His systems came back on, the suppression effect that had shut them down wiped away, and he turned his fighter back towards Churchill, to the ship he had called home for almost a decade. One glance was enough to convince him that she'd never leave the system, that she had made her last dimensional transition. If there had been a shipyard here, there might be a chance of repairing her, but as it was, that seemed all but impossible.
“Red Leader to...” He paused. There was no squadron, no flight. He was the only one left. “Jack to Churchill on emergency frequency. Come in, please.” He heard a trace of static, what seemed to be a faint voice in the background, but nothing more. “Jack calling Churchill.” He paused, then said, “I can't hear you, but if you can hear me, I'm heading to the hangar bay. Stand by to receive one fighter.”
With a deep sigh, he guided his fighter back along the course track, carefully riding the throttle, and looked over the battered carrier as he approached. There was some damage by the elevator airlocks, one of them twisted and smashed, but by some miracle the others seemed intact. With careful pulses of his thrusters, he moved into position, trying to block out the nightmare he was living through.
His friends were dead. His whole squadron. A parade of faces seemed to dance across his mind, the men he had flown beside in the War, had led to their deaths at Proxima. At least then, two of them had made it home. This time he was returning alone. The communicator remained stubbornly silent as he drifted into position, and he idly wondered about the other transports, hastily gathering the survivors of Omega Base. Supposedly, they had surrendered, but he was hardly in a position to enforce it. Not that it mattered. With the destruction of Theseus, the fighting was over. The clean-up could be left to someone else.
Drifting underneath the docking port, he threw a series of switches, and was surprised to see the cradle smoothly glide down, a titanium trapeze that slid underneath the fighter, pulling it up through the hatches, the comforting hiss of atmosphere filling the elevator airlock as his ship was dragged up to the deck.
Only corpses awaited him as he returned to his ship, neat rows of bodies assembled before him. Someone had survived, but his eyes couldn't pass the woman laying at the head of the first row, familiar brown hair curled around her face. She looked as though she was simply asleep, that she might wake up at any moment, and he dropped to the deck as his cockpit slid open, walking towards her in a trance, finally kneeling by her side. A smaller corpse lay next to her, and sick horror filled his heart as he stared down at the body of his wife.
He ran his hand through her hair, tears streaming down his face, and whispered, “I'll be with you in a minute, Kathy. With both of you. Just wait a second.” Reaching down to his holster, he pulled his pistol from his belt, hefting the weight in his hand, and started to raise it to his head. Footsteps raced towards him, and he looked up, his pistol dropping to the deck as he saw the woman sprinting for him.
“Susan,” he said, racing for her, enveloping her in his arms, the two of them crushing themselves to each other, their shared tears mingling on their faces. His universe was reduced to a single pair of souls, and for that brief instant, nothing more seemed to matter.
“When they brought her out,” she began, and he took her head in his hands, looking into her weeping eyes.
“It's going to be all right,” he said. “It's going to be all right. We're going to get through this, and we're going to do it together.” He looked across at the row of bodies, and continued, “When I thought you were dead, I just...”
“I felt the same way,” she said. “I watched your attack. From Sickbay. We didn't know which fighter was coming in. The sensors...” She shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and asked, “What's going to happen now?”
“We put the pieces back together again,” he replied. “And we go on.” Looking at the body of his wife, lying on the deck, he continued, “And one day, all three of us will be with each other again, when the time comes. Until then, we go on. Together.”
She looked up, forcing a smile, then buried herself in his arms.
“I'll take care of her,” he whispered, too softly for Susan to hear. “I swear, Kathy. I swear.”
Epilogue
With a blinding flash, Monitor jumped into the system, sliding through the dimensional shift and returning to normal space. Jack looked across at Cruz, shook his head, and turned to walk down the corridor towards the hangar deck, ready to greet Captain Koslov when he arrived. Cruz snatched a datapad from her work bench and followed, trying to match his quick pace.
It had been a long two weeks. A struggle to get the ship into some sort of habitable condition, to deal with the remainder of Admiral Knight's people, also stranded in the system, finally requiring a quick demonstration that his fighter was still fully-operational to convince them that their surrender was irrevocable.
And the funeral of Kathy. That had been the hardest thing of all. As soon as it was over, he'd gone back to his quarters with Susan, drunk one quick toast from his stash, and poured the remainder into the refuse air
lock. That was one crutch he never wanted to use again. He'd beaten that demon once, and didn't think he had it in him to win the fight a second time.
At least they weren't stranded out here on their own any more. He'd dispatched Clayton with a prize crew on the Marco Polo, hoping to find Koslov and his ship at Belzoni Station, and evidently they'd been successful. Now he could hand this mess over to someone else and start to get on with the rest of his life. Whatever that might be.
“Credit for your thoughts?” Cruz asked.
“I doubt they're worth that much,” he replied. “Just wondering what comes next.”
“Who knows,” she replied. “If we'd ever kept the insurance properly up on this ship, we might have had a few options, but as it stands.” She frowned, then said, “My cousin's a part-owner in a starship yard at Mariner. He dropped a few strong hints that he needed a new supervisor last time we were in town. This time I might take him up on it.” Looking around the corridor, she continued, “This little lady's going to be a tough act to follow. I think my wandering days are over.”
“No chance at all of repair?”
“Not without facilities and money we don't have. It'd almost be cheaper just to buy a new ship. Probably a lot cheaper to get one at auction.” Turning to him, she asked, “You going to hold it together this time? Mo's ghost would come back to haunt me if you went off the deep end again.”
“I'll make it,” he said. “I've got someone to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“I hope so,” she replied. “No more bar-hopping. You understand me, soldier?”
“Yes, ma'am,” he said, flashing a grin. The two of them stepped into the shuttle bay, a siren sounding as the elevator airlock opened to admit a shuttle. He could still see the bodies lined up on the deck whenever he closed his eyes, another memory that would haunt him until the end of his life. Twenty-two dead. All friends of his, old or new. Sullivan, Dixon, Finch, Dirk. And Kathy.
The shuttle's airlock slid open, and Koslov walked out, wearing his usual battered flight suit, a pair of uniformed aides following him onto the deck. He looked around at the shuttle bay, walked over to Jack and shook his head.
“I read the reports, but they didn't quite prepare me for what I saw when I was on final approach. I'm surprised you haven't just transferred over to the Thomas O'Dell.”
“Most of the crew already did,” Jack replied. “I put Angel in charge, at least for the moment, but I'm sure one of your fine officers will be happy to take over. My daughter's helping her out.” A smile crossed his face, and he added, “She did me proud, Vlad. Did us all proud.”
Pulling out a datapad, Koslov replied, “I've got her Bronze Cross right here. She's liable to be the first cadet in history to get a citation for gallantry while being washed out.” He paused, then added, “If she changes her mind, I can pull a few strings, get her back into the Academy...”
“No,” Jack replied. “That's history. She never wanted to wear the uniform, and I think she's more than done her duty already. Maybe she can get time to work out what she actually wants to do with her life. Maybe I can, to.”
“Perhaps I can sweeten your prospects a little.”
“Right now I'm sitting on an about eight thousand tons of scrap metal that used to by my ship.”
He smiled, then passed him the datapad, and said, “That's your credit balance.”
Jack looked at the figure, his eyes widening, and said, “Two million?”
“What?” Cruz asked.
“Ten years' back pay at the rank of Lieutenant-Captain, with hazard bonuses, and your wife's insurance policy. Intelligence will collect on your behalf. At least neither of you should worry about having to get a job for a while.” Looking him in the eyes, he said, “Take my advice. Go wandering together. No responsibility, no commitments. Just go and see some of the wonders this galaxy has to offer.” Turning to Cruz, he added, “All of you are getting the best letters of recommendation I can find for your next jobs, and all have standing invitations to come and work for me at Triplanetary Intelligence. We owe you that much, at the very least.”
“Damn right,” Cruz replied, frowning. “That mean I get to work with some fun technology?”
Gesturing at the hull, Koslov said, “Monitor's in need of a full refit. Turns out the one we just did gave us some major problems. Can't think of anyone better to handle it.” With a grin, he said, “Best of both worlds, Chief. Lots of nice vintage technology and all the cutting-edge kit you can handle. You'll love it, I guarantee.”
Cruz glanced at Jack, then said, “I just might take you up on that.”
“I hope so. I'm already planning on poaching all of the Fleet personnel left over here. They'll be heading over to Monitor. The rest can go back on the Thomas O'Dell. I'm sending her back to Mars for a very discreet auction in a few hours. No point hanging around here.” He paused, turned to Jack, and said, “You and your daughter can head back on her, if you want.”
Nodding, he replied, “I think I'll take you up on that.”
“Can I see Cadet Clarke?” Koslov asked. “I'd like to have a word with him.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “Chief, can you handle things here?”
“No problem.”
Turning to the corridor, Koslov lowered his voice, and said, “I noticed that the location of the alien homeworld didn't appear anywhere in your report.”
“Strange, that.”
“And that Monitor's systems were hacked as soon as we entered the system. Someone extremely skilled managed to sneak in through our firewall and purge all of the databanks related to this mission. At least related to what we found along the journey.”
“I suggest you have a word with your Security Officer.”
Shaking his head, Koslov replied, “No point. You beat me to the punch, that's all. There are some things that man is not meant to know. At least, not yet. Between you, me, and Knight, I think we've managed to cover up this particular trail of breadcrumbs. No funding will be provided for any archaeological digs in this region, and with a little luck, the secret can remain hidden for a while.”
“This isn't the first time something like this has come up, is it?”
“Triplanetary Intelligence has a mandate to protect the Confederation from all threats, even existential ones. You'd be surprised to learn about some of the interesting things we've buried over the years.” Turning to him, he said, “When you've finished your wanderings, come back and work for me.”
“No thanks.”
“I promise interesting work, and you'd essentially set your own hours.” He smiled, then said, “When you're ready to come back, get in touch. The offer will remain open in perpetuity. You're a good man, Jack, and you aren't going to be comfortable out of uniform for long.”
“You'll be waiting a long time, Vlad.”
“I'm a very patient man. It goes with the territory. Most of our operations are a lot more boring than this one has been.” Shaking his head as they walked past another piece of battle damage, he added, “I'm sorry about your wife, and I'm even sorrier that your daughter got dragged into it. I had two of my best people guarding her, but they managed to get her out of position.”
“It wasn't your fault,” he replied. “It wasn't anyone's fault.” They stepped into Sickbay, where Clarke was sitting up on a diagnostic bed, Blake looking at his monitor readings, making notes on a datapad. “Cadet Clarke, this is Fleet Captain Koslov. My commanding officer, and one of the leading lights of Triplanetary Intelligence.”
“Sir,” Clarke said, struggling to rise.
“No, Cadet, stay where you are. I understand you're lucky to be alive.”
“Not luck,” Blake said. “Skill. That's twice I've had to pull bullets out of you, John. I really don't want to do it again.”
“At least we're on first-name terms now,” Clarke replied.
Si
tting down on the bed, Koslov said, “Cadet, I presume you realize that you've missed half of your first year at the Academy.”
“Technically, sir, as I understand it, I'm listed as dead.”
“I've already sent a message to your parents, informing them of the mistake. The whole affair has been blamed on a secret mission. That even has the virtue of being the truth, though I suggest that you don't tell anyone that you volunteered yourself for it.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir.”
“And in the end,” Jack added, “it was. Without your hack of the quantum computer, we'd never have found out that Knight had found the prize at the end of the rainbow. This whole operation would have failed. Not to mention that you were trying to protect my daughter, which puts me eternally in your debt.”
“There's no need for that, Captain. I did what I thought I had to do.”
Nodding, Koslov said, “I take it you want to remain in the Fleet.”
Blake glared at him, but he said, “Yes, sir, I'd like that very much.”
“Even if it means retaking your first year?”
“I knew there was a price for my actions, sir. If that's all it takes, I'll do it.”
Shaking his head, Koslov replied, “It isn't quite as simple as that. I've had a look at the intake applications, and the standard is very high this year. I'm not sure I can fit you in.” Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a small, brown box, and passed it to him. “Besides, I'm don't think it's necessary. And for the record, both Jack and the late Captain Mallory recommended this.”
Opening the box, Clarke saw the small silver bar inside, and said, “Midshipman's insignia.”
Aggressor (Strike Commander Book 3) Page 19
