Falcone Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  And, at the very least, we can ask for reinforcements, she told herself. And share what we’ve learned about the Theocracy with Admiral Christian.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “This is the situation,” Kat said. She tapped a switch, bringing up a holographic chart of the Aswan System. “The enemy’s naval base, along with most of his mobile forces, are gathered in orbit around Aswan itself. They have a smaller patrol force stationed near the gas giant and a handful of automated weapons platforms orbiting Redemption. Given the importance of the planet, we must assume they also have a watchdog keeping an eye on things under stealth.”

  “They should,” the XO said. “Why don’t they keep the prisoners on Aswan itself?”

  “I suspect it has something to do with interservice rivalry,” Davidson offered. “Whoever is in charge of taking care of POWs probably wants a base of their own, rather than put them anywhere near the naval base. We used to have similar disagreements with the army.”

  Kat shrugged, dismissing the matter. “We’re going to unload the freighters and mount those missile pods to their hulls,” she said. “The engineering crews should be able to handle it, particularly if we just dump the rest of their cargos into space rather than trying to ship them all back home. Then we’re going to rig up a slave control system and send the freighters into the Aswan System, ready to fire on the defenders as soon as they come into range.”

  “The freighter convoy will be overdue,” the XO warned.

  “Not by more than five days,” Kat said. She’d run the calculations as best as she could, using the data they’d recovered from the defector and checked against the datacores on the freighters. There was some leeway, as she’d expected, and, given what the freighters were carrying, the Theocrats would probably be too relieved to see them to ask too many questions. “We can put together a cover story if necessary. Maybe one of the ships had a drive failure and they had to slow to take the convoy in tow.”

  “They’ll also be missing their defenders,” the XO added. He looked at the star chart for a long moment. “They’ll smell a rat.”

  “We’re going to use drones to pose as their ships,” Kat said. “It shouldn’t be too tricky to get an ECM drone to pretend to be an enemy ship, rather than one of ours. By the time they get close enough to tell the difference, they’ll already be under fire.”

  She looked at Davidson. “Lightning will have to accompany the freighters, under cloak,” she added. “While we’re busy making a mess, you and your men will have to get down to the POW camp and snatch the prisoners. Commander McElney”—she glanced at the XO—“will take command of the remainder of the active squadron. You should have enough time to complete the evacuation and jump out, heading for the first RV point.”

  The XO cleared his throat. “There are still two squadrons of superdreadnoughts there,” he said. “It won’t be hard for them to detail one squadron to deal with you and the other to come after the rest of the squadron. That would be overkill for each of us.”

  “If everything goes to plan,” Kat said, “those superdreadnoughts will no longer be there.”

  She tapped the display. “We’re going to raid Porcupine,” she said, pointing to a system seven light years from Aswan. “It will look like we jumped into the system, took one look at the defenses, and ran for our lives. However, it will give us a chance to send them one more fake message. We’ll tell them that the next target on the list is Salvation.”

  “And they’ll detach one of their superdreadnought squadrons in hopes of mounting a second ambush,” the XO said. “They’d be too far from Aswan to intervene once we attack.”

  “So I hope,” Kat said. “The other squadron of superdreadnoughts . . .”

  She met his eyes. “We have one of their StarComs,” she said. “We’re going to send orders for those ships to go to the front.”

  “Admiral Christian is going to kick your ass,” Davidson remarked.

  “They’d never fall for it,” the XO said. He shook his head in sheer disbelief. “They should check their orders, shouldn’t they?”

  “Perhaps,” Kat said. “However, I was reading through the debriefings very carefully. Aswan has been expecting to receive orders to send one of the squadrons forward, so they won’t be too surprised to finally get them. We have the codes to make them look convincing and . . . well, questioning orders isn’t exactly encouraged in the Theocracy. If we make it sound as though the superdreadnoughts are urgently needed, they won’t have time to work up the nerve to ask for clarification.”

  “Tell them there’s been a major counteroffensive and the front lines are being pushed backwards,” Davidson said.

  “It’s a minimum of two weeks from Aswan to Cadiz,” the XO said slowly, playing devil’s advocate. “No matter how hard they push their drives, they’re not going to get there any faster. They might be concerned that they’d get there in time to be smashed . . . if, of course, there was an offensive.”

  Kat looked down at the display. “Their senior officer, according to the defector, has a habit of commanding the squadrons sent out to intercept us,” she said. “If we lure him away first, his subordinate may be reluctant to ask questions. He might just dispatch his remaining squadron and hope his smaller ships, and the fixed defenses, are sufficient to handle any threats until his superiors return.”

  “He might,” the XO said. “Captain, I can see the plan working, but it depends on too many factors outside our control.”

  “We can mount a covert watch on the system,” Kat said. “If the superdreadnoughts don’t depart as ordered, or they recall the other squadron first, we back off. Hell, we can use the StarCom to signal Admiral Christian and update him on our status. He might be able to spare us a handful of modern warships.”

  “If nothing else, it would certainly expose the flaws in their society,” the XO mused thoughtfully. “They’d have to become like us to beat us—and that would probably destroy them.”

  “Probably,” Kat agreed. “Major?”

  Davidson took a breath. “It has the advantage of audacity,” he said. “But it could also go horrendously wrong.”

  The XO smiled. “Forgotten your testosterone pill today?”

  “It isn’t just me at risk,” Davidson said, irked. “It’s all of us.”

  “If there isn’t a reasonable window to carry out the plan, we’ll fall back and break contact completely,” Kat said. She hated the idea of leaving the POWs in enemy hands a moment longer, but freeing them wasn’t worth the total destruction of her squadron. It would be better to round up a squadron of battle cruisers and then return to Aswan. “Yes, there is a risk, but we take risks in our stride each and every day.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the XO said.

  Kat took a breath. “Mr. XO, put together a plan to arm the freighters and the crippled ships the moment we return to the RV point,” she ordered. “Then prepare yourself to transfer to Oliver Kennedy. You’ll have overall command of the remainder of the squadron once we enter the system. Take as many tactical officers as necessary to handle the task.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the XO said.

  “Major Davidson, you and your men will transfer to Oliver Kennedy and the other ships,” Kat continued. “I want you to put together a plan to get in, grab as many prisoners as you can, and get out. There is to be no attempt to hold the planet or set up stay-behind units, merely a prison break. Use all of the remaining shuttles if necessary, rather than just the Marine shuttles. In the event of everything going to hell, improvise.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Davidson said. “What happens if your ship gets boarded?”

  “I doubt that will be an issue,” Kat said. “But the crew will be carrying sidearms, just in case.”

  She frowned. The Theocracy had tried to board a handful of ships by force, rather than compelling them to surrender, but it had always ended badly. Either the boarding parties were wiped out by armed crewmen— they hadn’t seemed to anticipate resistance from anyone o
ther than the Marines—or the victims had a chance to trigger the self-destruct before it was too late. She wouldn’t have kept trying a tactic that had failed spectacularly several times over, but the enemy seemed to be remarkably bloody-minded about some things.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she added. “We’ll be fine.”

  “And the cripples will draw fire,” the XO pointed out. “Are you planning to try to ram them into the enemy ships?”

  “More likely their fortifications,” Kat said. “I would be surprised— very surprised—if we were allowed to get a ship into ramming position.”

  She tapped her console, deactivating the display. “There’s no way to keep the details of the operational plan a secret, at least not without causing problems, so I want you to keep a very close eye on any way that a message can be smuggled off the ship,” she concluded. “We cannot afford another leak.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Davidson said.

  He smiled. “One way or the other, Captain, this will definitely go down in the history books.”

  “Sure,” the XO said pessimistically. “Right under the heading of how not to do it.”

  Kat laughed. “It’s something they will never expect,” she pointed out. “And really, just who would be stupid enough to carry out an attack with a handful of freighters and crippled warships?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll test the StarCom by sending back a full report,” she concluded. “The Admiralty will know everything we know, even if we don’t return.”

  * * * * *

  Although he would have hated to admit it, William was a naturally conservative person. He disliked the thought of taking a wild jump into the unknown, let alone charging right into a system that was so heavily defended that at least two squadrons of superdreadnoughts would be required to flatten the defenses in a single attack. And yet, in the privacy of his own mind, he had to concede that the plan might work. It was the hint of insanity that would drive it forward, he was sure, along with the enemy’s belief that their communications networks were unbreakable. Hell, they were unbreakable. William didn’t have the clearance to know more than rumors about the CIS’s attempts to spy on the enemy’s StarCom network, but he’d heard that they’d proven fruitless. By the time the ships reached the RV point and work began, he’d decided to trust in the captain’s plan.

  “This isn’t really a mobile StarCom,” Lynn said as William stepped into the engineering department. The chief engineer sounded torn between fascination and dismay. “They’ve miniaturized a few things, Commander, but I wouldn’t expect this unit to last more than a couple of years at most, once they spin it up. I think they’d probably also have problems with oscillating harmonics that will tear the thing apart given time. They’d need some pretty heavy-duty computer programs to control the system and I don’t think what they have is up to the task.”

  “I see,” William said. “Can’t we duplicate and improve on the concept?”

  “Oh, we probably could,” Lynn said. “I tell you, Commander, most of the savings here are false savings. Someone probably sold the enemy leaders a bill of goods. In the short term, they have a cheaper StarCom network; in the long term, they will have to work hard to keep the system up and running, when they could have made a much bigger investment on day one and saved themselves a great deal of cash. The system just keeps running into the cold equations and the realities of engineering.”

  “They probably think they can replace them in the long run,” William said.

  “No, they don’t,” Lynn said. He rubbed his hands together with mischievous glee. “I’ve seen this type of thinking before, sir. They buy a cheap system, then keep wasting their resources on upgrades, throwing good money after bad, rather than admit they made a mistake. My word, sir; heads would roll if someone made a mistake . . . and in the Theocracy, that’s probably literal.”

  He shrugged. “The bottom line, sir, is that we can send messages into their network, but the whole system probably won’t last very long,” he admitted. “We simply don’t have the power to keep it up and running. I wouldn’t expect a superdreadnought to be able to keep the singularity in existence indefinitely. Another cost-cutting measure, sir, that’s going to bite them hard in the ass. It’s quite possible that wherever they intended to put it wouldn’t be able to use it. I’ve seen that happen before too.”

  William frowned. “Really?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lynn said. “There was a planet thirty-odd years ago that suffered a major disaster and needed help, so people all over the Commonwealth pitched in to send them emergency supplies to tide them over until they recovered. However, there was no attempt to coordinate the assistance, so half of the material they sent was completely useless. I believe a lot of it got put back on the market and sold, in exchange for funds that they could spend to get what they actually needed.”

  He shook his head. “A proper StarCom would be able to control the collapse of the singularity so the StarCom itself wouldn’t be affected and a new singularity could be spun up afterwards,” he said. “This one? When the singularity collapses, it’ll take most of the StarCom with it. We may have done the idiot who put the design together a major favor, sir. He’ll have more time to make his escape before his superiors recognize that they’ve been conned.”

  “I’m sure that the propaganda department can turn him into a hero,” William said dryly. “How long will it take you to put the system together?”

  “Couple of days,” Lynn said. “I’ve got every trained engineer in the crew—and even a handful of people who have some experience without qualifications—out there bolting missile pods to hulls, shoring up everything we can, and generally making sure this ragtag squadron can deliver one last punch. I just hope we don’t have to fight a long battle, sir; none of these ships were actually designed to be slaved to another, not even the freighters.”

  William nodded, slowly. The captain had insisted that the Theocracy wouldn’t be too surprised if the convoy was overdue, but they were control freaks. It was quite likely that there would be a lot of questions for the crew, particularly after Lightning had wiped out an enemy convoy right under the enemy’s nose. And many of the questions would be impossible to answer; hell, if the Theocracy took no more precautions than Tyre before the war, the veneer disguising the freighters and crippled warships would still fade very quickly.

  And let’s hope they don’t want to talk to the cruiser CO, he thought. That would ruin the plan beyond repair. The bastard is dead and gone.

  “I hear you’re going to have squadron command,” Lynn said, changing the subject. “And you never had a formal command of your own.”

  “I know,” William said. The captain hadn’t realized it until he’d pointed it out, but if someone squinted at regulations the right way, they could make a fair case for the captain facing a court-martial board. Giving command of an entire squadron to someone without command experience was forbidden, even though he’d served watch on Lightning and had over forty years of experience in the Navy. “But the captain didn’t have a choice.”

  “Enjoy it,” Lynn said. He shrugged, again. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t get tapped for a command of your own in the next couple of years. I’ve heard they’re going to be rushing many more starships into commission now that the gloves are off. We’ll have more ships than we have commanding officers.”

  “I hope so,” William said. “It’ll please the observer too.”

  “Ah, yes,” Lynn said. “She was poking around here awhile back; I asked her to leave and she just left without ever looking me in the eye.”

  “She was probably embarrassed,” William said. He made a mental note to check in with Rose MacDonald before the squadron departed on its final mission. Maybe she should transfer to one of the other ships, one that might be able to make an escape if the plan went horrendously wrong. “That’s how people on my homeworld act when they realize they crossed the line.”

  “Well, tell her she can have a tour while we’
re on the way home,” Lynn said. “I wouldn’t mind showing her around, sir.”

  “I’ll tell her,” William said. “But we have to survive the battle first.”

  * * * * *

  “You know,” Davidson said. “This could be our last night together.” Kat laughed. Lightning had nipped in and out of Porcupine, as planned, taking the opportunity to broadcast propaganda into the datanet before allowing a squadron of light cruisers to drive them away. Hopefully, the enemy would realize she hadn’t fired a shot and draw the conclusion that she had few—if any—missiles left. But as long as they picked up the message she’d sent, using Parker’s codes, she didn’t care. It would convince the enemy to prepare another ambush for her.

  “That was far too hackneyed a line,” she said. They’d spent five days laboring to put everything in place for the attack on Aswan. Tomorrow, they’d know if the plan would work or if the enemy would refuse to take the bait. “You could just try to pull me into bed.”

  Davidson shrugged. “I thought bad romantic lines were funny,” he said. He looked past her, at the display. “You might have made a good Marine.”

  “I doubt it,” Kat said. “I never liked crawling through mud.” She smiled, remembering her childhood. It might have been lonely, but it hadn’t been bad. There had been the estate, a private garden easily large enough for a hundred children, and countless trees to climb. But she’d rarely seen her parents . . .

  And if we don’t manage to survive the action tomorrow, she thought as she turned and took him in her arms, I won’t see them ever again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Admiral, a courier boat has arrived from Porcupine,” Commander Annam said. “The spy sent another message.” “That’s nice,” Admiral Junayd growled. It was hard enough coming up with excuses for not reporting the loss of the convoy, not when he didn’t have anything to balance the scales. “And what did your spy have to say?”