Starfighter (Strike Commander Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

   “A couple,” she said. “None of them had much of a name, though. I think we were all hoping to make one for ourselves out there.” Reaching down for a sip of her coffee, she added, “Not that any of them will ever get the chance now.”

   “Their work will live again, Ensign,” Vlad said. “You have my word on that. We might not have recovered much of the encrypted data yet, but we do have a copy of your dig notes.”

   “For sale to the highest bidder.”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “Not under the circumstances. I'll hold everything here, and see that it gets to somewhere appropriate once the dust has settled. The Interstellar Smithsonian at Barnard's Star, perhaps, or the Museum of Xenobiology at Vesta.” He smiled, and added, “I won't let your friends die for nothing.”

   She frowned, and said, “Thank you.”

   “Confused?”

   “Yes.”

   “Don't you think that I'm interested in the artifacts I sell?” He paused, and added, “Have you completed your inventory yet?”

   Nodding, she said, “We've only lost a single piece. A frieze showing a starfield, one of our latest discoveries.” Vlad passed her his datapad, and she called up a display showing the item, “We did a full scan of it...”

   “So we can fabricate a copy for ourselves,” he said.

   “If we want to,” she replied, frowning. “The piece wasn't complete, anyway, though we had enough to date the ruins at about ten thousand years old, through stellar drift. Plus or minus five hundred years.”

   Frowning, Sullivan said, “Then this was an actual starfield, then? Not some sort of stylized image?” At her nod, he said, “Then it must have had some sort of other purpose.”

   “Not necessarily,” Morgan replied. “The Egyptians decorated some of their tombs with constellations, and the megaliths of Stone Age Europe were designed with star positions in mind, for purposes of religious ceremonies.” Shaking her head, she added, “There's so much we don't know, and unless the other dig comes up with something, I suspect we never will.”

   “Other dig?” Conway asked.

   Nodding, she said, “Abydos Base.”

   The room seemed to retreat from Conway, his face turning pale as he looked into space. Around him, the others talked, a babble of conversation that washed over him unheeded, before Sullivan shook him, trying to get his attention.

   “You with us, Jack?”

   He glanced down at his watch, then pulled out his communicator, “Conway to Churchill. Mel, you on the bridge? Mel?”

   “I can be in a minute,” she yawned. “What's up?”

   “Get Dirk on the bounce. I need a best-time course to Abydos Base, and the ship to be ready to implement it the moment we're clear for dimensional travel. If I'm reading this right, that's in about twenty-one hours.”

   “What?”

   “Just do it.”

   “Jack, we can't just go leaping into the lion's den,” Sullivan said. “As I said, we need to find a way to alert Fleet Headquarters at Komarov. Jack Cunningham's on the spot there, and I can't imagine...” He frowned, and said, “What is it?”

   Shaking his head, Vlad answered, “His ex-wife is the commanding officer of that outpost.”

   “Hell, I'm all for it,” Morgan said. “The next time I get that bastard Blake in my sights, I intend to end him, once and for all. Did you see the list of dead from Beowulf?”

   “One ship. With two fighters, one of them in pieces and neither with a trustworthy electronics suite...”

   “McGuire can work miracles,” Conway said.

   “Assuming we can keep his mind on the job. We're in over our heads, Jack.”

   Nodding, Fontaine said, “In any case, I need to keep you back in the event of another attack on this station. Now that they know...”

   “There's nothing for them here,” Conway replied, looking around the table. “They had the pick of the artifacts they wanted, and they've got what they needed. Without significantly greater firepower, they can't destroy this station.”

   “Want to bet a few thousand lives on that, Jack?” Sullivan asked.

   “They'll attack Abydos Base.”

   Shaking her head, Fontaine replied, “Now that their secret's out? They'll go into hiding, try and wipe out any trace of activity.”

   “Besides,” Morgan mused. “The investigation at Abydos is in a much earlier stage than we were at Karnak. They waited until we'd finished before they attacked.”

   “No,” Conway pressed, turning to her. “They wanted the starfield artifact, and as soon as you found it, they moved in to take it. Before wiping out all the evidence that you were ever there.”

   Frowning, she replied, “They can't...”

   With a sigh, Vlad added, “There is something to what Jack says. I've gone over all the records, and as far as I can determine, official records of either Abydos or Karnak are somewhat vague, after the original authorization order. Someone is looking for something, and attempting to make it as difficult as possible for anyone else to pick up their trail. If you had died, my dear, then their plan would have worked perfectly.”

   Rising to his feet, Conway said, “What are we waiting for?”

   “Twenty-one hours,” Sullivan replied, sotto voce. “We can't leave the system until then.”

   “It's been four days since Beowulf left...”

   “And they won't have gone directly there,” Sullivan said. “We've got time, Jack.” Shaking his head, he added, “Not that I know what we can do with it. Cruz and McGuire think they can get that second fighter ready, but it's not going to help that much. Those are short-range craft, designed for carrier or station defense. That design was lousy for strike ops.”

   Nodding, Vlad replied, “That is so, but I think I might be able to help you there.”

   Shaking his head, Sullivan said, “We'd never get them modified in the time, even with every shipyard in the station.” He chuckled, and said, “The tech crews at Mariner Station spent long enough trying during the war.”

   “That isn't the help I'm offering.” Turning to Jack, he continued, “I'm going to assist you, every way I can.”

   “Why?” Morgan asked, her arms crossed. “What interest do you have in this.”

   “First, self-preservation. This is a hidden station, and I have to think that a Counter-Admiral in the fleet can potentially muster greater forces than she has yet deployed. While the intelligence services of four governments would protest, that wouldn't help us after we're dead.”

   “That just means that we should concentrate our resources here,” Fontaine pressed. “Jack, if you abandon this crazy plan and stand in the defense of the station, I'll wipe out your debt.” With a half-smile, she added, “I'd pretty much written it off, anyway.”

   Looking across at her, Vlad replied, “That brings me to the second reason. Conspiracies such as this thrive only in the shadows. Once the cold light of day is shined across them, they wither and die.”

   “Like Dracula,” Bennett quipped.

   “We could report this,” Fontaine said. “There are channels. I could...”

   “Not in time,” Vlad pressed. “Even I would struggle to muster the help we need in less than a month.” Shaking his head, he added, “If there must be a fight, surely it is better to have it elsewhere, rather than here at the station, putting thousands of lives at risk.” Glancing up with sad eyes, he continued, “I appreciate your feelings, Jack, but Abydos Base has only a few dozen service personnel stationed there. We've got to play the numbers.”

   “I'm…,” Conway began.

   “I know,” Vlad said, “That's why I'm helping out. Tabby, between the two of us we can muster enough of a perimeter guard to ward off anything short of a capital ship, and I can bring in more equipment quickly enough. If we're right, then Abydos Base is going to come under attack in the near future, and Churchill represents the o
nly hope they have.”

   Nodding, Morgan said, “It may already be too late. If Hermes pulls the same trick as they did at Karnak, they'll infiltrate their forces and strike as soon as they have secured the artifacts they need.”

   “All the more reason to move at once,” Conway replied, turning to Sullivan. “What do you think, Mo?”

   “I think it's a lot to ask a civilian crew,” he replied. “I'll go where you lead, Jack, but I don't know if everyone else will go along with it. Let's be honest, there's a hell of a risk in this one.”

   “I agree,” Conway said, pulling out his communicator. “Mel, are you on the bridge?”

   “Half-dressed, but yes. I've got Dirk working on the course plot. We'll be ready to leave as soon as we've completed dimensional stabilization. Where exactly are we going, anyway?”

   “Connect me through to the whole ship, please.”

   “They're going to love you, breaking in halfway through their sleep cycle.” There was a brief pause, and she added, “You're on, boss. And on your own head be it.”

   “This is the Captain,” he said, with a surge of assurance he hadn't felt in years. “You all know what happened at Karnak Station. Rogue Triplanetary forces massacred the entire crew, with only a single exception. A few days ago those same forces attempted to attack us here.” He paused, then continued, “I believe that Abydos Base, one jump from here, will also be attacked shortly. No other forces are able to help them, so it is my intention to head back into Triplanetary space and move to defend the installation.”

   All eyes on the table looked at him, and he said, “I know that none of you signed up for this. For myself, I once swore an oath to defend the people of the Confederation, and as far as I am concerned, that still holds. For the rest of you, I can only say that there are forty-nine people who will all be killed if we don't intervene. We're the only chance they have.”

   “I know the risks are grave, and that we'll be going up against superior odds. Nevertheless, I cannot sit back and watch while people die, not when I had an opportunity to save them. Having said that, I will completely understand if anyone wants to sit this one out. Frankly, I wish I could. If anyone wants to leave the ship at this port, they should pack their bags and proceed to…,” he turned to Fontaine, who held up three fingers. “Docking Bay Three, within the next twenty minutes. I don't think you'll have any trouble finding new employment.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “That is all. Conway out.”

   “I'm coming,” Morgan said.

   “You know how I stand,” Sullivan replied, though there was a flash of doubt in his eyes. “I've stuck with you this long, and I might as well see how this one plays out.”

   Nodding, Bennett added, “I'm in.”

   “Last time I checked…,” Conway began.

   With a beaming smile, Vlad interrupted, “Consider her an adviser, and my representative on your voyage. You already know she is an excellent fighter pilot, and those skills will prove valuable once you reach your destination.”

   “We've only got two fighters,” he replied. “Mo and I can fly them. Or Dirk, perhaps. That's the least of our problems at the moment.”

   Rising to his feet, Vlad made his way to the rear exit, and said, “I've got some other equipment I think you might need, and you're going to need Miss Bennett to help you operate it. Come with me.”

   Frowning, Conway followed him through the door, into a hidden elevator, the rest of the group coming after him, the doors closing shut behind them. With a loud click, the mechanism engaged, sending them down into the depths of the asteroid, rapidly dropping below the usual habitation levels.

   “Your secret shuttle dock,” Fontaine said, shaking her head. “I've been wanting to take a look at it for a long time.”

   With a shrug, Vlad replied, “This is a very special day, my dear, and I think the time is right to show at least a few of the cards in my hand.”

   “How far down?” Conway asked.

   “The other side of the asteroid. Five miles down. Trust me, it's worth the trip.”

   “We were going to get paid in kind again, weren't we,” Sullivan said, shaking his head.

   “On the contrary. I've already transferred payment in full for your last job to your credit account here on the station.”

   “Don't worry, I already garnished it,” Fontaine added with a smile.

   The doors slid open, and Conway stepped forward into a hangar deck, five gleaming Vulcan fighter/bombers lined up before him, all of them as pristine as though they had just been built. Racks of missiles were stacked alongside, and Sullivan looked them over with an expert eye before glancing at the tail of the nearest fighter. His eyes wide, he raced across to it, running his hand over the hull.

   “Love at first sight, Mo?” Conway asked with a smile.

   “It's always nice to see an old friend again.” Pointing at the identification registry, he added, “TD-202. I flew this girl for three years, up to the end of the War.”

   Stepping over to the next fighter, Vlad by his side, Conway read out, “CF-191. My God.” He turned to Vlad, and said, “How the hell...”

   “There were in mothballs out at Triton, and I pulled a few strings and made an offer. Strangely enough, someone forgot to demilitarize them after sale.” Clapping him on the back, Vlad added, “All of them are yours, free of charge, as well as enough of a weapons inventory to get you started.”

   Silently, Conway climbed up the familiar steps to the cockpit, sliding into the couch as though he'd flown the fighter only yesterday. He ran his hands over the familiar controls, a smile breaking across his face. Shaking her head, Bennett walked over to him.

   “I flew her for five years,” Conway said. “Five years, through three maintenance cycles.”

   “Figures you'd end up with Charlie Foxtrot,” she replied.

   “I never thought I'd see her again.” With a deep breath, he said, “This gives us the chance we need. I presume the others...”

   “Xylander and Dixon have their fighters here, as well as a spare,” Vlad replied. “Miss Bennett is fully checked out on both types of fighters, so she can fly XQ-119. That gives you a reasonably balanced fighter wing.”

   “And after the mission?”

   “Assuming that's something we have to worry about,” Sullivan added.

   “These are yours to keep, Jack. I have a hunch that you're going to need them more than I do. I'll have my people transfer them over to Churchill within the hour, to give you a chance to run a proper maintenance check before you depart. I know Chief Cruz will be anxious to check up on them.”

   Looking enviously at the fighters, Fontaine said, “I'll make you an offer, Jack. If you'll stay here and fly them for the station, not only will I clear your debts here, but I'll give you free maintenance servicing for a year.” She paused, then added, “Make it two.”

   “No deal, Tabby,” Conway said. “I'm not going to part with them, not now.”

   “Then,” the dockmaster pressed, but Vlad put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

   “Relax,” he said. “I told you that I had other resources available, and I meant it. I'm staying here, remember. Do you think I'd be hanging around if I didn't think this station was safe?”

   Frowning, she replied, “I'm half-tempted to sign up with you instead, Jack.” Shaking her head as he climbed down from the cockpit, she extended her hand, and said, “If I can't talk you out of this, then the least I can do is wish you luck. If any of those rogues of yours decide to jump ship, send them my way. I'll find them something to keep them busy.”

   Shaking her hand, he replied, “Thanks, Tabby. I will.”

   Glancing at his watch, Sullivan said, “We'd better get up to the shuttle bay. If anyone is coming over, then they'll be arriving in a few minutes.”

   Nodding, Conway said, “Ensign...”

   “Nicky,” she replied, shak
ing her head. “I think we can probably assume that I'm part of the crew, de facto if not de jure.”

   With a smile, he said, “Nicky, then, can you hang around down here and see to the transfer of the fighters? Liaise with the Chief, and make sure she has everything she needs...”

   “Already arranged,” Vlad said. “A shuttle left half an hour ago, carrying a full set of tools and all the fabricator programs you'll want. Including some surprisingly advanced munitions load-outs, customized for the Vulcan missile racks.”

   “Half an hour ago? You know I'd be shipping out?”

   “I know you, Jack. It was a foregone conclusion you'd be following up on this somewhere.

   He knew. That was the only explanation that made sense. He'd known about the impending attack on the base before the meeting, maybe hours or days ago. Something to file away for future thought. Shaking his head, he stepped into the elevator with Sullivan.

   As soon as the doors closed, his friend said, “Tell me something, and be honest. If Kat wasn't commanding that base, would we be going?”

   Conway paused, took a deep breath, and said, “Yes. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried as hell about her.”

   “Here we go again,” his friend replied, shaking his head. “Jack, come on. It's been twelve years, and if you think that riding to the rescue like the United States Cavalry is going to win her back...”

   “I'm not a kid any more, Mo. I know how the world works.” Stepping across to the wall, he continued, “Do you know how many people died under my command?”

   “Jack...”

   “Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine people on my conscience, and that doesn't even count the ones I killed. The men and women I murdered, without ever even seeing their faces or knowing their names. I have a hard enough time getting to sleep at night as it is, without adding another fifty to the roster.”

   “We were at war,” Sullivan said, stepping behind him. “That's what happens in war. People die. All of them knew what they were signing up to, knew the risks. We all did. If I'd have died out there, I'd have expected you to understand that.”