Interceptor (Strike Commander Book 2)

by Richard Tongue

   Stepping through the airlock, she limped forward to the cockpit, crashing into the co-pilot's couch as Angel stepped in beside her, working the controls with one hand, the other still keeping a tight grip on the control. Behind them, Sokolov and Medina took seats in the empty passenger cabin, looking around at the empty couches.

   “This probably has a range limit,” Angel replied, shaking her head. “It'll be interesting to find out how long it will work.”

   “We could disarm it,” Sokolov said. “Given time...”

   “Those bombs might be under a million tons of rock,” Angel said, working the lateral thrusters to raise them from the ground. “Besides, there's nothing back there that we want.”

   “Proof of what happened,” Medina said.

   “Let the dead rest,” Morgan replied, looking down at the base as the shuttle rose, the single dome slightly tilted, the final effect of the subsurface detonation. “I think they've earned it.” Pulling out the piece of paper, she smoothed it on the scanner, tapping a control to feed it into the main computer, then called up the information sent from Churchill, the two fragments of the starmap they had already retrieved appearing on the viewscreen.

   “What's that?” Sokolov asked.

   “That's what this whole nightmare was all about,” Morgan replied. She entered commands into the console, matching Petrov's scribblings with the information they already had, attempting to compensate for a margin of error. There was no way she could make it as accurate as an image of the original would have been, but she could certainly get a lot closer than she was.

   A green light flashed up, and the new image meshed with the two fragments they already had, a third piece appearing on the screen, filling in a portion of the gaps. Morgan smiled in satisfaction as the navigational computer linked up with the more powerful equipment on Churchill, extrapolating the location of the anomalous star.

   “Well?” Angel asked, driving them into orbit.

   “We're down to five billion miles,” she replied, turning to the pilot.

   “Is that enough?”

   “Not quite, but it's a damn sight better than we had. One more piece will do it.”

   “Look at that!” Medina yelled, pointing at the base, a brief flash of white as the remainder of the bombs detonated, setting the whole mass of the surface collapsing into an artificial crater. Debris flew away from the rock as all evidence of the pirates was wiped away, taking the alien base, Petrov, and all of the others who died there with it.

   Shaking her head, Morgan said, “Poor Petrov.”

   “That was the find of a lifetime for him,” Angel replied, looking at the wreckage below. “It's almost appropriate that he should be a part of it. Sometime in the future, maybe another ten thousand years from now, maybe a million, someone will go down there again, and pick through the remains of that site. Something would have survived, down there, and some archaeologist from a race that does not yet exist will find his body, and wonder what happened here.”

   “Maybe,” she said, looking back at the ruins of the base. “Maybe.”

   Glancing up at the monitor, Angel said, “We'll be home in ten minutes. Apparently they want us to swing around and pick up Captain Conway as well. Looks like he decided to take an impromptu spacewalk.” Shaking her head, she said, “Then we can start to think about where to go next.”

   “I already know,” Morgan said. “Dubois gave me a legacy as well.”

   “He was a traitor,” Angel said.

   “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “He was on our side, all the time.”

   “What?” Sokolov replied, his eyes wide. “After everything he did...”

   “That was Larson and the others,” she said. “Left to them, I don't think they would have bothered taking prisoners at all. He was a double-agent, trying to hold them back until we could move.”

   “And the deadline?”

   “Larson was always going to kill him in the end,” Medina said, nodding. “He threatened it often enough, behind his back. It was only surprising that he waited as long as he did.”

   With a thin smile, Morgan replied, “The only person who was going to die when that deadline ran out was him, and he knew it. Just before he died, he said one word to me. Transuranic.”

   “Transuranic?” Angel asked. “What does that mean?”

   “I don't know,” she replied. “But I'm damn well going to find out. For both of them.”

  Chapter 20

   For the first time in decades, Conway wore his dress uniform, a mark of respect for the words he was about to say, and the people he was about to honor. In front of him in the hangar bay, for once bathed in silence, almost the entire ship's complement was present. Among them were a scattering of dignitaries from the surface, McCormack, Wagner and Fedorov representing the local police, Walensky and Zharkova the civilian authorities, though both of them had insisted on wearing the uniforms circumstance had forced them to wear.

   Behind him, three coffins rested on an elevator airlock, only one of them with a body inside, that of Nakadai. One of the others was buried under millions of tons of rock, the other destined to wander though the universe forever. Somehow, that seemed appropriate for a fighter pilot. There were worse ways to go.

   “There is no harder duty for a commanding officer,” he began, “than to preside over the last rites of those serving under him.” Turning to face the coffins, he said, “We honor the memory of our fallen comrades, and take inspiration from their sacrifice. They have laid down their lives in the most noble way that it is possible to do, in the service of their fellow man. They died that others might live, and their names will live forever, in the hearts and minds of us all.”

   Standing to attention, he turned once again, and said, “We say farewell to Spaceman Second Class Aiko Nakadai, to Sub-Lieutenant Erik Sterling, and to Lieutenant Julian Dubois. From the stars we came, and it is to the stars that we now return our honored dead, from now until the end of time.” Tapping a control in his hand, he concluded, “We hereby commit their bodies to the dark.”

   “Company,” Sullivan called, “Atten-shun!”

   As one, the crew rose, snapping to attention, the March of the Triplanetary Fleet playing over the ceiling speakers as the elevator dropped away, the tiny thrusters on the coffins firing to push them to escape velocity, floating free in space for all time. One day, he knew, someone would be saying those words over him. The final notes played, and the crowd looked up at him as he nodded at Sullivan.

   “Company, company, dismissed.”

   Conway stepped forward, down from the podium, and Walensky walked up to him, her face sombre, looking out at the airlock as it completed its cycle, returning to the level of the deck.

   “They'll not be forgotten, Captain, I can promise you that. I'll see that their names are added to the Memorial in the Commercial Dome as soon as I return to the surface. That's the least we can do, the absolute least.” She paused, and added, “I'd appreciate contact details for their families, as well. I'd like to thank them myself.”

   Nodding, Conway replied, “I'll see that you get them, Major. I mean...”

   She smiled, looked down at her uniform and said, “Nice to know it still fits, though I'd have been just as happy never to wear it again.” McCormack walked over to them, his deputies in tow, and asked, “What happens now?”

   “That's down to you,” he replied. “Moran was right about one thing. The odds of getting any formal charges to stick to her are next to nothing.”

   “She's lost the confidence of the Board, I'll tell you that, and I know that a petition for her removal was already circulating around the general population before we put a stop to it.” Walensky shook her head, and said, “She resigned this morning. We agreed to buy out her interest in the company and say nothing about what happened.”

   “I'd like to see the book thrown at her,” McCormack said.
“If there was any justice...”

   “We came here to do a job,” Conway replied, “and we did it. A lot of people were saved, and strange as it may seem, she had a part to play in making that happen. Besides, if the truth was revealed, confidence in the colony would collapse, and I think it's earned a chance to survive.” He smiled, and added, “You'll be relieved to know that I have divested myself of my personal stake in the company. We actually made a slight profit, and I can't wait to try and explain that to the Accounts Officer when we finally close the books on this mission.” He paused, then added, “As for the few prisoners we took, I think you've got more than enough evidence to hold them, but...”

   “We're going for maximum publicity,” McCormack said. “I've got a few friends back on Mars who can make the whole situation nice and public. At the very least we should be able to embarrass hell out of their masters. Then, perhaps, we can put all of this behind us.” He paused, shook his head, and said, “Though I'm not looking forward to the special election.”

   “No doubt Nijinsky will make a run…,” Walensky said. “Heaven alone knows I don't want the job again.”

   “That moron comes up with a new conspiracy theory every day.”

   “Want a suggestion?” Conway asked, glancing across at Zharkova, currently in intense conversation with Mallory, and said, “Nominate her.”

   “Zharkova?” McCormack said, his eyes widening. “You've got to be out of your mind. She's spent her whole time causing trouble, ever since she arrived.”

   “And she's the only person I've met who actually seems to have concrete ideas for the long-term future of the colony, and who the majority of the population trust. You could do worse.” He smiled, then added, “Besides, I seem to remember an old quote advising that one should keep one's enemies closer. You could do a lot worse.”

   Looking at Zharkova, Walensky added, “I know I've heard stranger ideas, though I've got to confess I don't remember where.” Glancing at McCormack, she said, “Let's go and have a word with her. Maybe we can set some ground rules at the start, come to some sort of agreement.”

   “Good luck,” Conway replied, as the two of them walked away, Bennett turning to him with a smile on her face.

   “Did you get around to telling them that you sold the Prospectors' Union all of your stock?”

   “Oddly enough, I don't think I did,” he replied. “That ought to make the next board meeting rather interesting. I wish I could hang around to see it, though oddly enough, I don't think I qualify any more.” His communicator bleeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket, saying, “Conway here. Go ahead.”

   “Clayton, sir. We're getting signs of dimensional instability from the close hendecaspace point, Captain, and our readings suggest that a capital ship is coming into the system.” She paused, and said, “Confirmed. It's a Triplanetary battlecruiser. Gilgamesh, I think.”

   “Go to battle stations, and stand by for a best-speed trajectory to the hendecaspace point. Plot a course back to Belzoni. I'll be up in a minute.”

   Sirens sounded on the deck, crewmen scattering as they raced to their combat positions, leaving the civilians standing bemused as chaos erupted all around them.

   “What's going on, Captain?” McCormack asked. “More traitors?”

   “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not as far as I know. Looks like the Fleet has decided this is an excellent time to pay Sinaloa a visit. I don't think that Gilgamesh is working with Knight.”

   “Then...”

   “Which still means that they think we are all guilty of treason, murder and a dozen other major offenses,” Bennett said. “We might, if we are extremely lucky, get it all straightened out eventually, but I don't think I want to take the chance.”

   “Agreed,” Conway said. “Kat...”

   “I'm on my way,” Mallory replied, racing to the corridor as Churchill's engines roared into life, hurling it on trajectory towards the hendecaspace point.

   “Anyone not coming with us should get going,” Conway said, stepping towards the group of civilians. McCormack held out his hand, and Conway shook it, saying, “A pleasure, Sheriff. I know the planet is in safe hands with you looking out for them. Though I'd recommend seeing to those security upgrades as soon as you get down.”

   “Trust me, Captain,” he said with a chuckle. “That's right at the top of my list.”

   As the group walked into the waiting shuttle, Zharkova paused, looking around at the hangar deck, and said, “I'm tempted to ask to stay.”

   “We'd be glad to have you,” Conway replied, “but you've got a job to do down on the surface, and there's no one better equipped to do it.” Making sure the rest of the civilians were out of earshot, he added, “Give 'em hell.”

   “I will,” she replied, stepping inside as the hatch closed, the shuttle dropping away as it began its journey back to the planet. He looked after it for a moment, shaking his head before walking back to the corridor, Sullivan waiting for him at the door.

   “Credit for your thoughts?” he asked.

   “It just seems unfair,” Conway replied. “We're sneaking away like a thief. The crew deserve a damn sight better than that, and so do those people we just buried.” Glancing back at the elevator airlock where the three coffins had rested, he added, “Their families think they are traitors and worse, and it could be months before we can tell them even a portion of the true story.”

   “We know,” Sullivan said. “We remember. That will have to do, for the moment, until we can put the record straight when all of this is over.”

   “I hope so. I hope so.” Conway led the way down the corridor, a group of technicians heading in the opposite direction, preparing the ship for a battle they desperately didn't want to fight. He stepped out onto the bridge, a grim-faced woman on the screen in mid-rant.

   “Ah, Conway himself,” she said. “As I was just telling your co-conspirator...”

   Moving in front of the viewscreen, he replied, “I suggest that you contact the inhabitants of the planet below before coming to any firm conclusions, Captain. Suffice to say that we did your job for you, and that the pirates you came out here to fight are no longer a problem.” As surprised flashed across her face, he added, “Rumors of our treachery have been greatly exaggerated.”

   “Gilgamesh is on the move,” Sullivan said, settling into his station. “Intercept course, just past the hendecaspace point. They've got weapons hot, and are at full combat alert.”

   “If what you say is true,” Gilgamesh's commander said, “then you won't have any objection to surrendering to allow verification of your story.”

   “I'm afraid we just don't have time for that,” Conway replied. “Thanks for the generous offer, though. Maybe we'll meet again under better circumstances.” Turning to the rear, he said, “Kill transmission.”

   “Done,” Dixon said. “You realize they'll probably take all the credit for everything that happened here, Jack.”

   “That's not why we did it,” he replied, shaking his head. “I'll be happy to accept her apology at some time in the future.”

   “Two minutes to hendecaspace point,” Clayton replied. “I think we'll just beat them there before they get into combat range.”

   “Missiles ready to fire,” Finch added. After a second, he looked around, and said, “Set for defensive fire, of course.”

   “Watch yourself, Lieutenant,” Mallory said, the trace of a smile appearing on her face. “You're beginning to enjoy all of this a little too much. I think Captain Conway's cutthroats are beginning to rub off on you.” Turning back to the helm, she added, “Let's see if we can get a little more acceleration. I think we've outstayed our welcome.”

   “Shuttle is on re-entry interface,” Dixon replied. “They wish us the best of luck.”

   “I'm glad we've got someone on our side,” Finch said, shaking his head.

   Smiling at him, Conway repl
ied, “We've got most of the Confederation on our side, Lieutenant. They just don't know it yet.”

   “One minute, thirty seconds to egress point,” Clayton added. “Enemy…,” she blushed, turned, and corrected, “I mean, Gilgamesh is closing to intercept course. This one's going to be close.”

   The bridge doors opened, and Morgan limped into the room, still resting on a stick, and said, “Wait a minute.”

   “We can't,” Conway replied.

   “No, we can't go back to Belzoni Station yet.” She tossed a datapad through the air to Clayton, and said, “We've got to go to Rutherford, instead.”

   “Rutherford?” Mallory asked. “Where the hell...”

   “Rogue science colony,” Conway said, a grimace crossing his face. “What the hell are we going there for?”

   “Because the leading expert on transuranics in human space lives there.”

   “Quite right. It was a silly question.” He glanced at Mallory and asked, “Have you got any better ideas?”

   Shaking her head, she said, “Here we go again. Clayton, can you alter course in time?”

   “I think so, Captain.”

   “Then by all means,” she replied. “Sub-Lieutenant, you have the call.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” the helmsman said, grinning as she rattled the instructions into the astrogation computer. With a blinding blue flash, Churchill ripped a new hole in the dimensional fabric, hurtling them into the safety of hendecaspace, just as Gilgamesh closed to firing range. Maybe the next time they entered a system, they wouldn't be under fire. Though somehow, Conway wouldn't bet on that.

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