Desperate Fire (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  She nodded to the marines, who escorted the five Theocrats out of the compartment. They looked stunned as they left, as if they were either unable to come to terms with the speed of their fall from power or unable to quite comprehend that a woman was dictating to them. She had no doubt they would tell themselves that she was merely Tyre’s mouthpiece, repeating the orders of her very masculine king.

  And they would be right, she thought, looking down at her terminal. This time, I am merely repeating orders from on high.

  Shaking her head, she rose and left the compartment.

  “They signed, eventually,” Junayd said. “You do realize that their authority is very limited?”

  “Of course,” General Winters said. “And so is yours.”

  Junayd nodded. General Winters had been assigned to command the occupation force, although he seemed unsure if the appointment was a reward or a punishment. But there was no doubt that he, not the provisional government, would hold ultimate authority on Ahura Mazda. Junayd could and would build a power base of his own that would nonetheless be very limited. And yet the occupation would not last forever.

  “We will start by trying to rebuild the economy,” he said simply. “It should win us some friends.”

  He gritted his teeth. It wasn’t going to be easy. Millions of people were starving on the planet below, millions more blaming the former government for their plight. And the food distribution network had collapsed completely. He had no idea how many people were going to die in the next few months, but he was sure it would be a terrifyingly high number.

  And the farmers aren’t helping, he thought. The miscreants have armed themselves and are defending their fields against all comers.

  “If you can,” General Winters observed. “What’s going to happen when the first true elections are held?”

  Junayd knew the voting process wasn’t going to be easy. His homeworld had no idea how to hold free elections. The planet had simply never had them, even back at the start. Ambitious people joined the military, the clergy, or the civil service and rose steadily in the ranks, occasionally by knifing the person above them in the back. The idea of holding elections, of asking the people to decide, was utterly alien. And the idea of giving everyone the vote, including women . . .

  There’s going to be trouble, he predicted silently. What man is going to want his wife to have a vote?

  “I daresay we’ll learn,” he said instead. “It won’t be easy, but we will do it.”

  He looked up at the holographic planet for a long moment, watching the tactical icons taking up position on the surface. There hadn’t been any major resistance, thankfully. The remaining PDCs had surrendered without a fight once the provisional government started broadcasting orders. But that would change, he knew. The records were a mess, but it was clear that thousands of heavy weapons had vanished into the shadows. Clerics, former regime loyalists, and people with nowhere else to go would have plenty of tools and ammunition to mount an insurgency. The next few months were not going to be peaceful.

  But we will rebuild, he told himself. And we won’t be spending half our GNP on warships any longer.

  That hurt, more than he cared to admit. He’d loved commanding his own ship, even if he had had a damned cleric looking over his shoulder. No matter what he did for the rest of his life, he would never command a warship again. The Theocracy wouldn’t have any warships. Decades, perhaps centuries, would pass before the Commonwealth allowed his people to defend themselves. And by then he would be long dead.

  But we were lucky, he thought. The Commonwealth could have done a great deal worse.

  He looked down at the deck. He’d seen the postwar plans the Theocracy had drawn up, back in the first flush of victory. The Commonwealth would have been crushed without mercy, its societies turned into clones of the Theocracy or simply destroyed. Tyre would probably have been bombarded back to the Stone Age, just to keep it from posing a threat. And Kat Falcone, General Winters, and everyone else he’d met during his stay in the Commonwealth would have been killed. By comparison, the Commonwealth had been absurdly merciful.

  General Winters snorted. “Be ready to leave in an hour,” he said. “We’ll be returning to the surface.”

  “Of course, General,” Junayd said. “I understand.”

  “There’s been no sign of the remaining enemy ships,” Kat said tiredly. She sat with William in her cabin, drinking coffee. “They seem to have vanished completely.”

  “We’ll see them again,” William predicted. “They won’t have gone far.”

  Kat nodded. The Theocratic ships had been in poor condition, even without the final engagement. She doubted their crews could keep them operating for long, no matter what happened. They’d simply be unable to obtain the spare parts and expertise they needed to keep the ships going. Pirates faced the same problem, but they tended to use much smaller vessels.

  The Theocrats might just sell the ships for ready cash, she thought. Or they might have a secret bolt-hole somewhere within their former territory.

  She contemplated the star chart as she sipped her coffee. Theocratic Space was marginally smaller than the Commonwealth, but there were plenty of star systems that had been deemed useless and barely surveyed, even during the first great age of expansion. The Theocrats would have no problems turning a useless world into a hidden base, assuming they’d stockpiled colonization supplies somewhere. Or maybe they’d head out beyond the rim of explored space and then find an undiscovered world and cannibalize their ships to set up a hidden colony.

  If they can, she thought. Do they have any women on their ships at all?

  “We’ll be surveying the nearest systems over the next three weeks,” she said. “And then we’ll be going home.”

  William lifted his eyebrows. “They’re recalling the fleet?”

  “They’ll be leaving four squadrons of superdreadnoughts on duty here,” Kat said, nodding towards the display. “And probably around a dozen other squadrons. But the main body of the fleet will be going home for the victory parade.”

  “It’s not quite over,” William reminded her.

  Kat made a face. He was right. The remaining enemy garrisons had to be removed before their personnel decided they would sooner blow up their planets than surrender. She’d already sent courier boats to the nearest stars, each one carrying a high-ranking official who should be able to order a surrender. But it would take weeks, if not months, to ensure that every remaining garrison was no longer dangerous. And then their personnel would have to be repatriated before the locals slaughtered them. Once again, a nightmare.

  But this is just the mopping up, she told herself firmly. We won the war.

  A bitter grief overcame her as she looked down at the deck. Pat was dead. Her father was dead. Countless others were dead or would die before the mopping up was completed. It hardly seemed worth it. She and Pat had planned to spend the rest of their lives together, perhaps buying a freighter and heading out to trade. Those plans were now gone.

  She glanced up as she felt a hand touch hers. “It’s no consolation,” William said, his brown eyes meeting hers. “But I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Kat said, blinking away tears. “I wish . . .” She shook her head fiercely. “What are you going to do when we get home?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be staying in the navy,” William said quietly. “I’ve lost two ships. I doubt the Admiralty will give me a third command. And I would waste away behind a desk.”

  “You should stay,” Kat said. She had no idea what she would be doing, but she was damned if she was leaving the navy. “You’re a good man.”

  “Not everyone would agree,” William said. He sighed. “And besides, I watched my homeworld die. I don’t know where I should go.”

  Kat felt a flicker of betrayal, betrayal she swallowed hard. She didn’t own him. She certainly didn’t have any right to demand he stay with her, even though she had come to depend on his steady presence ov
er the last two years. And yet, the thought of him leaving her . . .

  “Your people are getting a new world,” she said. “Are you planning to go there?”

  “I don’t know,” William admitted. “My brother”—his face twisted—“is planning to go legitimate after the war. He offered me a place in his crew. But I also have a duty to my people. I should go and help them tame their new world.”

  “You could also help them by staying in the navy,” Kat pointed out, calmly. “You’re a good man.”

  “So you said,” William countered. “I’m tired, Kat. I just want to rest.”

  “I understand,” Kat said.

  But she didn’t, not really. Why would anyone want to give up the navy? But William had been in the navy longer than she’d been alive. He’d inched his way through the ranks, fighting desperately for recognition that had been granted freely to men and women with the right connections. As much as she hated to admit it, William had a point. Losing two ships would not endear him to the Admiralty, particularly as the fleet was being cut back to a peacetime establishment. William was unlikely to get a third command, even with Kat’s family pulling strings on his behalf.

  And now my father’s dead, there will be a struggle to determine who inherits the Dukedom, Kat thought. We won’t be pulling any strings for a while.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to make up your mind,” she said, although she had a feeling that William had already made up his mind. He wasn’t a very changeable person. “And you will be joining me for the victory parade, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” William said. “How could I refuse?”

  Kat surprised herself by leaning forward and giving him a hug. “It’s been an honor,” she said. And it had. She’d learned to respect him even as he’d learned to respect her. “And whatever happens, you will always be able to count on me.”

  “And me too,” William said. He looked at her hand as she pulled back. “And I am truly sorry.”

  “I know,” Kat said. She should take off the ring, she knew. It wasn’t as if she could marry a dead man. But she couldn’t bring herself to remove it. “General Winters thinks Pat triggered his nuke, sacrificing himself to save the entire planet. It was how he would have wanted to go.”

  She shook her head. “But it doesn’t seem enough, does it?”

  “No,” William said. “But the pain will fade, in time.”

  He rose and headed for the hatch. “Take care of yourself,” he said gently. The hatch hissed open. “Please.”

  “I’ll try,” Kat promised. She had to go on, somehow. Pat would have wanted her to go on, to live. But she didn’t know how. “And thank you, once again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “Welcome home, Commodore,” the pilot said.

  Kat nodded, shortly. Her brother Peter had insisted on sending one of the family’s shuttles for her, rather than allowing her to use a military shuttle. She wasn’t sure if he was being paranoid or not, but the enemy cell that had killed her father remained undiscovered. Who knew where they’d strike next? The war might be over and the occupied worlds now liberated, yet Tyre had not yet relaxed. It would be a long time before the Commonwealth lowered its guard again.

  She rose and stepped out of the hatch. The scent of blossoming flowers greeted her, bringing back a wave of memories. She’d grown up on the estate, spending her days studying with her father’s tutors or running and climbing around the gardens. The treehouse she’d built years ago was long gone, but the treehouse her father’s staff had put together for the children was still visible, poking out of the trees. Her nieces and nephews were running around it, laughing and shouting as they scrambled up and down rope ladders. She couldn’t help wishing, just for a moment, that she could be a kid again. In hindsight, it had been nice not to know anything about the realities of adult life.

  But I always wanted to grow up, she thought.

  She was tempted to join the children, but she pushed the thought aside and strode down towards the gates. Her brother was waiting for her, a tall handsome man with light blond hair, a muscular body, and a grim look on his face. Kat couldn’t help thinking he looked tired, even though he’d had the best genetic enhancements money could buy. There was something saggy about him that worried her. Peter had gone into the family business almost as soon as he’d graduated, their father assigning him to tasks that had allowed him to learn the ropes, but he hadn’t expected their father to die so soon.

  None of us did, Kat told herself. Father should have lived for decades to come.

  “Peter,” she said.

  “Katherine,” Peter said. He sounded as if he had aged a couple of decades in the months since Kat had last seen him. “Welcome home.”

  Kat sighed as he turned to lead her into the mansion. She’d never had much of a relationship with her eldest brother. He’d already reached adulthood when she’d been born, spending as little time as possible at the mansion. And they’d had very little in common. He’d considered her a little brat; she’d considered him a stuffed shirt. He’d gotten married a couple of years after Kat’s birth and his children weren’t that much younger than Kat herself.

  She followed him through the corridors, noting how many portraits of her father had been placed on display, a black rim indicating that the house was in mourning. The remainder of her family would be in their rooms, she was sure. She wondered, absently, just what they intended to do now their father was dead. Peter would have to fight if he wished to inherit the Dukedom, to say nothing of their father’s vast patronage network. Their uncles and aunties were probably going to make their own bid for power.

  Peter led her straight into their father’s study—his study, she supposed now. The mansion belonged to their immediate family, not to the Falcone clan as a whole. She couldn’t help feeling oddly ill at ease as she took a comfortable chair, remembering the few times she’d been summoned to her father’s office as a child. It had been made clear, time and time again, that none of the children were to enter without their father, no matter the cause. Entering his study without him felt wrong.

  She watched Peter pace around the desk, then sit down. “Katherine,” he said. It looked odd too, to see him behind her father’s desk. “You did well.”

  “Thank you,” Kat said. She was sure Peter hadn’t summoned her to the mansion to compliment her on winning the war. He could have sent a message while the fleet had been mopping up the remaining enemy garrisons. “I—”

  Peter looked at her hand. “Are you sure you want to wear that?”

  Kat held up her hand, allowing the ring to glint under the light. “Yes.”

  Her brother looked uncomfortable. “I believe our father would have approved the match,” he said stiffly. His own marriage hadn’t exactly been arranged, but his family had made it clear that they expected him to produce heirs. “And I am sorry about his death. But wearing his ring after his death is not healthy.”

  “I know,” Kat said. She made no move to take the ring off. “But I will wear it anyway.”

  Peter met her eyes. “I believe you are in line for a promotion,” he said. “After winning two major space battles, no one is going to question your position.”

  Kat found it hard to care. No promotion would bring back her lover. And no matter what she did, she would never escape her family’s shadow. Part of her was just tempted to return to her rooms, lock the door, and hide. But she knew that wasn’t an option.

  “Good,” she said sourly. “And what next?”

  Peter cocked his head. “The family is in disarray,” he said. “Uncle Fredrick and Uncle Richard are readying a challenge to my position. Can I count on your support?”

  Kat shrugged. “What good would it do?”

  “You’re a famous officer,” Peter pointed out. It struck her, suddenly, that he wasn’t used to bargaining with her. “Your word counts for a great deal.”

  “Oh,” Kat said.

  She forced herself to consider the problem. Unc
le Richard, her father’s younger brother, had never struck her as being particularly interested in serving the family’s interests. He’d been more of a playboy than anything else, back when she’d been a child. And while Uncle Fredrick was more competent, she simply didn’t like him very much. He always had to get his way . . . and, when he didn’t, he threw a fit. Everything had to be just so with him.

  But could he win? Could either of them win?

  She leaned forward. “Are there no other challengers?”

  “Not yet,” Peter said. “Ashley may try to throw her hat into the ring, but I should be able to come to an agreement with her. Auntie Darcy has potential, yet a good third of the family detests her.”

  Kat smiled. “I always liked her.”

  Peter stiffened. “And you would support her over me?”

  “I never said she’d make a good duchess,” Kat pointed out. Darcy had been fun, back when Kat had been a child, but Kat wouldn’t have trusted her with anything serious. “Has she grown up?”

  “Not really,” Peter said.

  Kat made up her mind. “Then yes, you can count on my support,” she said. “But I’ll want something in return, later.”

  Peter sighed. “If it is within my power to provide it, without threatening the family, I will,” he said. “And I thank you.”

  “You are welcome,” Kat said with equal formality. She’d never expected to be playing power broker. Hell, she wasn’t playing unless the two uncles managed to band together and mount a joint challenge. “But I trust you will not be expecting me to attend the debate?”

  “You may find it interesting,” Peter said. He looked pained. “Your future will be affected too.”

  “I’d sooner have half my teeth removed,” Kat said. She’d attended one family conclave in her time, shortly after she’d turned sixteen. It wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat in a hurry. “I’m sure you can handle it.”