Starfighter (Strike Commander Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

   With a half-chuckle, he replied, “Damn it, I was a kid! At twenty-two, I had my own squadron, less than two years after I joined. The War took us rocket jocks down like flies, didn't it.”

   “How long do you need to serve penance for that?” Sullivan asked. “This isn't going to bring back the dead.”

   “They might sleep a little sounder, though. So might I.” With a deep sigh, he said, “You don't have to come, Mo. Don't let some misguided sense of duty drag you to your death.”

   After a long pause, his friend said, “Maybe a part of me feels the same way you do. Maybe despite everything else, I don't want to see anyone else die who wears the same uniform I did.” Snapping to attention, he continued, “Chief Warrant Officer Sullivan, reporting for duty, sir.”

   “Don't call me that.”

   “You might want to get used to it again,” he said. “Major.”

   The doors slid open, and they stepped out onto the hangar deck, a single figure waiting next to Churchill's shuttle. Angel walked towards them, holding a carryall, a grim smile on her face.

   “Just you?” Conway asked. “Well, it's been...”

   “What are you talking about?” she replied. “You don't think I'm going to pass up a fight like this, do you? I just thought you'd need a lift back to the ship.”

   “And the bag?” Sullivan asked.

   “A few bits and pieces Tabby loaned me. Seemed only fair to drop them off.” Shaking her head, she added, “Hate to die with that on my conscience.”

   “You realize we're planning on living through this, right?”

   “Optimist.”

  Chapter 10

   There was a loud knock on Kathryn Mallory's door, and she glanced up from her paperwork, sighing as she activated the release. Her assistant, Frank Corwin, stepped in, uniform pristine as normal. She glanced down at her own disheveled appearance, wondering how he always managed to look so damned perfect.

   “Something wrong, Lieutenant?” she asked. “Given that it's twenty-three-hundred, and all reasonable people should probably be thinking about going to bed?”

   “The orbital network has picked up something coming into the system, ma'am,” he replied. “Dimensional interference at the local hendecaspace point.”

   A frown flooded her face, and she said, “There's nothing scheduled to arrive for two weeks.”

   “That's what I thought, ma'am.”

   Instantly alert, she pushed past her subordinate and jogged out into the corridor, running around the perimeter of the dome towards the base command center. She glanced through the long windows at the cold, dark expanse of the planet beyond, towering pillars of ice reaching for the sky, a host of blue and green that sparkled in the twinkling starlight. When she'd arrived, it had been one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen, but it never changed, never moved. Somehow, she hadn't taken the time to look at it properly, not in the four months since the base was brought on-line.

   Stepping through the door, she saw her second-in-command, Holly Hansen, crouched over a sensor display, her forgotten jacket draped over the back of a chair. She had fifteen years on her, but only one grade in rank. The sort of ambitious officer she used to be, a long time ago.

   “Report, Lieutenant,” she said.

   “Definitely something coming into the system,” she said. “Medium size, maybe a transport.” Turning to face her, she suggested, “Maybe they've sent the transport early for once.”

   “Early?” she replied. “They've been late every time so far. Bring the orbital defense network on-line, and sound the alert.” Glancing at Corwin, still standing by the door, she added, “Have all civilians report to their quarters on the double, and I mean all of them. No excuses, no demands for extra time. Move.”

   “Yes, ma'am,” he said, snapping a salute before racing down the corridor towards the science labs. The archaeological team had been nothing but a source of frustration ever since they'd arrived, though she had to admit they'd made some startling finds so far. The starfield frieze, dug out of a ruined bunker three weeks past, had been a major breakthrough, and she smiled as she remembered the party the young discoverer had thrown after filing his report with the last transport.

   This base might be important, but it wasn't what she had wanted. Every command-track officer in the Academy would claim they desired a starship command, not matter how small, but she'd fallen off the lists years ago, pushed from one dead-end job to another, further and further away from home. She pulled out her wallet, and flicked open to the holoimage of her daughter, taken on her last furlough. Susan had chosen the same life as her, had joined the Academy, but she wasn't sure it was the life she wanted to lead, not anymore.

   “Here it comes!” Hanson said. She threw the sensor projection onto the main monitor, focusing the image on the hendecaspace point, and a new target appeared on the screen, a small dot with a course projection bringing it into synchronous orbit over the base. “It's one of ours.”

   “Who?”

   She paused for a second, then said, “Fast Courier Hermes, under the command of Senior Lieutenant Blake.”

   A scowl crossed her face. She knew Blake all too well, one of Knight's lackeys, a man who hadn't mustered an original thought in years. That someone like that could get command of a ship while she languished down in the dirt was maddening.

   “Stand down defense grid,” she said. “Resume normal routine.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” Hansen said. “Shall I recall Lieutenant Corwin?”

   “Yes,” she replied. “Then hail Hermes. I want to know what they're doing here.”

   “They're calling us,” one of the communications technicians replied. “Putting you through now, ma'am.”

   Blake's face replaced the sensor display, and he said, “Kat, it's a pleasure to see you once again. I hope we didn't startle you too much.”

   “Welcome to Abydos Base,” she said, forcing a smile. “How can we help you?”

   “Special request from the Admiral,” he replied. “We've got orders to take a look at some of your latest discoveries, as well as provide a small garrison.”

   “A garrison? What for?”

   “I'd rather not put that over an open channel.” He glanced off-screen, and said, “My team and I will be coming down in a few moments. We need to talk, quietly. Just you and the senior staff.”

   “We'll be there,” she said. “Abydos out.” She stood at the station for a moment, fuming inside. “Hansen, get Sub-Lieutenant Finch up here to take over, then meet me at Airlock One. Have the area cleared, and start arranging accommodations for the new personnel.”

   Frowning, her subordinate replied, “That's not going to be easy, ma'am. We're pushed to the limit as it is.”

   “Then set up hot-bunking, and see what you can do about boosting the life support systems.” She made to the door, then said, “If we can't take all of them, then let me know that as well. Oh, and have Corwin meet us at the airlock as well.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” she said, as Mallory left the room, walking back along the corridor. A technician, working at one of the wall monitors, saluted as she passed him, and she returned the salute without a thought, her mind occupied on the problem at hand. Blake's arrogance still rankled. She had seven years' seniority on him, and he seemed to think that waving their mutual commander's name like a weapon allowed him to do anything he wanted.

   She reached the airlock ahead of the others, and pulled out her datapad, skimming through the last bundle of messages. The job offer from Darrow-Thomas was right at the top, a position in their logistics division that would give her three times the pay, a good shot at a top management job, and a chance to live on Mars. To see her daughter more often than a few times a year. Maybe even win back some sort of a life for herself after all these years.

   Flicking down to the next message, she scowled, wiping it from the datapad with a flick of her finger.
She was in a bad enough mood at the moment, without memories of her ex-husband making it worse. Corwin walked along the corridor, standing at parade rest next to the airlock.

   “The shuttle's on its way down, ma'am,” he said. He paused for a second, then added, “May I speak for a moment?”

   “As long as it puts me in a good mood,” she replied.

   He frowned, then said, “I'd like to put in a transfer request, ma'am.”

   Shaking her head, she asked, “Where to?”

   “There's a position on the new Hercules for an Operations Officer. Captain Dodson sent me a message on the last ship, to sound me out about taking the position. Apparently she's cleared it with Personnel.” He looked at the airlock, then added, “I've thought about it a lot, and I'd like to take her up on the offer.”

   “So Joyce is headhunting from my station, now.”

   He paused, then said, “It would mean leaving on the next scheduled transport, ma'am. I know my tour here still has two months to run, but...”

   Interrupting him, she replied, “Isn't your wife Systems Officer on Hercules?”

   “Yes, ma'am. She's going on a one-year tour of the outer rim, with a possible six-month extension on top of that.”

   A thin smile crossed her face, and she said, “If Captain Dodson has already cleared it with the desk jockeys back home, you really don't need my permission at all. I'd imagine that the transfer order will be arriving on Isimud.”

   “Technically I need to sign it, ma'am, and I don't like the idea of this taking place behind your back. If you don't want me to go, then I will decline the transfer and serve out the remainder of my tour here on the base.”

   “And not see your wife for eighteen months, maybe more,” she said, shaking her head. “It's not often that married couples get a chance to serve together. That isn't an opportunity you should pass up, Frank. I won't stand in your way.” She paused, then said, “Hell, see if Joyce needs an Exec, and put in a good word for me, will you?”

   “I will, ma'am,” he said with a relieved smile, “and thank you. I appreciate this.”

   “If it's a girl, name her after me.” Hansen walked down the corridor, and she said, “How long?”

   “Hermes' shuttle is on final approach. Landing in one minute.”

   “One minute?” she replied. “They're really in a hurry.” Peering out of the window, she saw the landing lights flash on, searchlights sweeping around to pick up the craft as it descended, next to the two shuttles already poised on the launchpad. Sweeping out of the sky, the incoming vessel swooped over the base, slowing on its thrusters, brief blasts to guide it down towards its target, landing legs dropping down as it cautiously lowered in place.

   A trio of suited figures emerged from the airlock, not waiting for the extension tunnel to connect the shuttle to the base, instead trudging across the field towards them. Mallory allowed herself a brief smile as she saw the leading figure slide on the ice, almost falling over, knowing that Blake's ego would have forced him to be the first one out of the shuttle.

   The airlock cycled, and the three newcomers stepped in, shedding their spacesuits in the space between the hatches before making their way into the base itself. Blake, as she had expected, was first, a worthless smile painted on his face, two dour Espatiers flanking him, both of them with rifles slung over their backs.

   “Is that really appropriate?” she asked.

   “I think it is,” Blake replied.

   Shaking her head, she said, “I don't. Gentlemen, stow those weapons in the armory locker.”

   One of them turned to Blake, who almost imperceptibly nodded his head, and replied, “This is your station, of course. Though you might change your mind when you hear what I have to tell you.”

   “I doubt it,” she said, as the two troopers reluctantly obeyed her orders. “Come with me. My office is just along the passage.”

   “I'm familiar with the layout,” Blake said, moving to take the lead. She watched him walk past, then shook her head as she followed him to her office, the two guards moving to the rear, looking at every move she made. Hansen looked at her, concern in her eyes, as they stepped through the door and into the cramped room. For a second, she thought Blake was going to sit behind her desk, but he yielded it to her with another sickening smile.

   “Well, you have the privacy you wanted. Now, what the hell is all of this about?”

   Looking around the room, he said, “My mission has two parts. The first calls for all of the major artifacts you've collected to be transported up to Hermes for shipment back home.”

   “What?” Hanson said. “Sir, we've barely started, and we haven't been cataloging that way.”

   “Nevertheless,” he replied, “You'll have to get your science team on the job at once. My orders are to leave this system with the critical artifacts in five days.” He paused, then gestured at the two troopers, and added, “Further, we have reason to suspect that this base may come under attack in the near future. My orders are to establish a garrison, and strengthen your orbital defense net.”

   “I've looked at the systems,” Hansen said. “We might be able to accommodate twenty more people, but it will be something of a strain on the systems.”

   “It will only be for a short time, Lieutenant,” Blake replied. “You're going to have to manage. Ensign Bishop's platoon will be arriving in an hour.”

   Folding her arms, Mallory said, “Who exactly is planning to attack us? All that we've found on this rock are some ancient ruins, no strategic or tactical value at all.”

   “Your ex-husband,” he said, shaking his head.

   “You're joking.”

   “I only wish I was.” He pulled out a datapad, and passed it over to her. “There are my orders, right from Counter-Admiral Knight, signed and sealed. For your eyes only, given the nature of our mission.”

   She scanned through the text, and said, “That seems legitimate. All the command codes are correct, anyway. But you can't seriously be trying to tell me that Jack Conway has turned pirate.”

   “Look at the next section. He attacked your companion expedition at Karnak Station two weeks ago, massacring the entire complement.” She scanned through the images, shot after shot of bodies floating in the air, an archive of the dead, then at the sensor reading showing Churchill launching an attack, firing missiles at the station.

   “If this is true…,” Hansen said.

   “It's true,” Blake replied, rubbing his hands together. “I just hope they do attack. Hubbard was a friend of mine. Our investigation reveals that someone betrayed the crew, a reserve officer, Ensign Nicola Morgan.”

   “She's on, I mean she was on, the Karnak science team,” Hanson said, nodding. “I've read some of her reports.” Looking at Mallory, she added, “If they had a traitor...”

   “Way ahead of you, Lieutenant,” Blake said. “We're going to have to conduct a thorough investigation of the whole facility, and go over every line of code for potential security violations. My team will be coming down shortly to take over.”

   “My people...”

   “Are compromised,” he said. “If one of them is a traitor, in the right place, then they could ensure that the investigation doesn't find anything, and the first you'll know about it is when Churchill arrives in orbit and launches an attack.” Shaking his head, he added, “I can't let that happen. You'd do the same if you were in my place.”

   “So, what comes next?”

   “The troops come down and settle in, and start regular patrols of the facility, while you organize the transfer of your artifacts and data up to Hermes. My security team will be working on your system by remote, and I might have to conduct some interviews if we find anything suspicious. You'll find that my orders give me full authority for all of this.”

   “So I see.”

   His irritating smile returned to his face as he replied, “Frankly, if I w
as going by the book, I'd have relieved you of command. Given your past relationship with a known traitor...”

   “That man has nothing to do with me.”

   Raising his hands, he said, “I know. That's why I haven't taken that action. Nevertheless, you understand my need for caution.” Moving to the door, he said, “I'd better get started. There's a lot to do and no time in which to do it. If it's any consolation, we'll be shipping out in five days, and you can get back to digging old rubbish out of the mud.”

   “Blake?” she said, and he paused at the door.

   “What?”

   “Dismissed.”

   He glared at her before stalking away down the corridor, the two guards following as though on a leash. Mallory shook her head, going over the datapad again, reading the orders from Admiral Knight. No loop-holes, no way out of it. In all but name, Blake had been placed in command of the station, and she was to take her orders from him, no matter how distasteful it felt.

   “Ma'am,” Hanson said. “Perhaps...”

   “I'm assigning you as liaison, Lieutenant,” she said. “Go and work with Blake, and try and make all of this run as smoothly as possible. We've still got a station to run.”

   “Yes, ma'am,” she said, turning and leaving the room. Her ambition was going to get the better of her some day, but it wouldn't do her any harm at all to curry favor with a flag officer. Corwin looked down at her, frowning, and glanced at the images on the datapad.

   “I can't believe it,” he said. “Why kill them all?”

   “That, Frank, is a very good question. Even if someone wanted to steal the artifacts, wiping out a Fleet installation is a lousy way to do it.”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “I suppose orders are orders, ma'am. If Counter-Admiral Knight has really authorized all of this, we don't have any choice. I suppose it will do no harm in the long run, especially with them leaving in a week.”

   “You want to take an early ride home with them?” she asked. “Get you to Hercules a few weeks early.”

   “With all due respect, ma'am, I think I'd rather walk.”