Falcone Strike (Angel in the Whirlwind #2)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “That’s good, sir,” Kat said.

  Vaughn cleared his throat. “Overall, Captain, the operation was a complete success, despite the loss of a number of outdated ships,” he said. “The damage you did will shock the enemy; the intelligence you gathered will allow us to target other raids in the future; and the contacts you made, on Verdean if nowhere else, will assist us in securing control of the system when we launch the big counteroffensive. You did very well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Kat said.

  “Certain . . . intelligence officers have complained that you used the StarCom, rather than shipping it back home for study,” Vaughn added. “They were most put out by their inability to put it together for a second time. However, His Majesty told them off in no uncertain terms. Recovering a number of POWs, as well as burnishing your reputation as one of the leading lights of the Navy, has been good for the public. I dare say civilian morale has improved tremendously.”

  He paused. “And Justin Deveron is no longer a problem,” he added. “His patrons were not amused when the whole affair made them look bad, as it did. You shouldn’t have to think about him again.”

  “I didn’t think about him,” Kat said coolly.

  The admiral smiled, then met her eyes. “Your recommendations regarding promotions, Captain, will be taken into account,” he said. “Commander McElney will receive a starship of his own as well as a knighthood, although it may be several months until he is firmly seated in the command chair. I’m afraid your rank of commodore cannot be made permanent, under the circumstances, but you will probably be able to choose your next assignment. Admiral Christian has put in a request for your services, as have a couple of other senior commanders. Still, you won’t be allowed to leave the system until Admiral Morrison has been indicted.”

  Kat leaned forward. “Sir?”

  “Admiral Morrison will be put in front of a public court-martial, once a full investigation has been carried out,” Vaughn said shortly. “You may be required to testify in front of the court.”

  He paused. “Mr. Parker will pass into intelligence’s custody,” he added. “Under the circumstances, he will spend the rest of his life in an open prison or exile, rather than a penal colony, which is as lenient as we can be. Heads will be rolling, considering the scale of the security breach. Luckily, the news hasn’t been made public or it would be impossible to avoid another court-martial.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Kat said. She had expected less, no matter what strings she pulled. “I felt sorry for him.”

  “Emotions should not be allowed to rule us, Captain,” Vaughn said sternly. “He was dealt a bad hand, I agree, but he made poor choices. It was sheer luck that recovered his sister, not anything he did.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kat said.

  “You’re expected to attend the ceremony at the Palace,” Vaughn said. “Until then, consider yourself on leave. Lightning will be returned—again—to the yard crews, who will no doubt complain bitterly about having to redo most of their work. I dare say your father wants a word with you.”

  Kat nodded. “I would like to attend Admiral Junayd’s debriefing sessions.”

  “I suspect that will not be possible,” Vaughn said. “Intelligence complained bitterly about your . . . promises to the female defectors.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Kat began. “I . . .”

  “I understand your feelings,” Vaughn said, holding up a hand. “And I have not seen fit to stand in your way. However, there will be consequences for your decisions. I strongly suggest you stay out of their way for a while.”

  Kat scowled. “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed, Captain,” Vaughn said. “And, once again, well done.”

  William looked down at the golden star, unable to quite believe it was his. Part of him had decided, long ago, that he would never be offered command, no matter how hard he worked or how much experience he gained. He had tried to remain optimistic . . . he shook his head, admiring the way his name had been carved into the star. A command, a genuine command . . . he wouldn’t have minded, he told himself, if he’d been offered a garbage scow, if he’d been offered something.

  “You will probably be assigned to a heavy cruiser,” Admiral Young had said. “I cannot make promises, not yet, but I believe that would be the best use of your talents.”

  “Commander . . . William,” a voice said.

  “Captain,” he said, before catching himself. Captains called each other by their first names. “Katherine?”

  “Just Kat, please,” Kat said. Even in her dress uniform, she looked way too young to be a commanding officer. “Katherine is what my parents call me.”

  She smiled. “And congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” William said. He held up the star. “Your work?”

  “I recommended you for promotion after our last voyage,” Kat said. Thinking of her as anything other than Captain would be difficult. “They saw fit to deny my request until now.”

  William scowled. Had he been awarded a command because of his service, because of Kat Falcone’s recommendation . . . or because of Rose MacDonald? Had someone felt that it was time to speed up integration, despite the risks? Or had someone decided he could be trusted to serve as an example of an integrated officer, without the risks? He considered, briefly, demanding an explanation, perhaps even refusing the promotion, but he knew it would be professional suicide. Promotions were rarely offered more than once.

  “You’ll do fine,” she assured him. “Once you have a command, it will be back to the front lines.”

  “Or behind them,” William said. “Do they have any plans to send another squadron behind enemy lines?”

  “I suspect so,” Kat said. “However . . .”

  The door opened. “It’s time,” she said, reaching out and taking his arm. “Let’s go.”

  William sucked in his breath as they walked forward—he couldn’t help thinking they were walking to the altar—into the giant chamber. It was lined with nobility, ranging from dukes and lords who were household names to men and women who’d purchased their noble titles and taken their place among the planet’s rulers. He wanted to stop, but iron discipline kept him moving forward until he was standing in front of the throne. The king looked down at him and, unbelievably, winked.

  “Who brings this man before me?”

  “I, Lady Katherine Falcone, do,” Kat said. Her voice was clear, showing no hint she was intimidated by the massive gathering. But then, she was the daughter of a duke. “He is worthy of your recognition.”

  The king rose to his feet. “Captain William McElney . . .” he said. His voice was calm, but William thought he detected hints of uncertainty buried within the tone. A junior officer, perhaps, hopelessly out of his depth. William had mentored dozens of them in his long career. “You have served Us well. Kneel.”

  William hesitated, then fell to his knees. Kat dropped beside him, still holding his arm. The king drew his sword and stepped forward, holding the blade out until it was resting gently on William’s shoulder. He tensed, despite himself; a single slash and his head would be rolling on the ground. But the king would never kill someone in front of the entire aristocracy.

  “It is Our very great honor to invest you with a knighthood,” the king said. “We welcome you to Our family, to those who serve Us and Our Kingdom. Arise, Sir William.”

  He drew back the sword. William rose, slowly, as the crowd cheered. A knighthood wasn’t just an empty title, he knew; it was social acceptance, an open invitation to take up a place among the aristocracy. Kat gently tugged on his arm, pulling him around; he blinked in surprise as he saw Princess Drusilla standing amidst the throng. He hadn’t expected to see her again, ever. But then, her defection had been a major point in the Commonwealth’s favor.

  “Come on,” Kat whispered. “It’s time to go.”

  William nodded and allowed her to lead him out of the room, into an antechamber. It was suddenly very quiet as the door closed be
hind them.

  “Congratulations, Sir William,” she said seriously. “You deserve it.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “What now?”

  Kat laughed. “Join me for dinner? Patrick should be back soon; we can go eat together and talk about the future.”

  William hesitated, then nodded. “Why not?”

  “Katherine,” Duke Falcone said, when Kat entered his office. “Have you heard the news?”

  Kat frowned. She’d had dinner with her former XO—she knew she was going to miss him—and had been seriously considering a night on the town with Davidson before her father’s message had arrived. It had been terse, ordering her to return to the mansion at once; she’d bid her friends farewell, then caught an aircar home. Her father wouldn’t have summoned her if it hadn’t been urgent.

  “No,” she said. “What news?”

  “Admiral Morrison is dead,” Duke Falcone said curtly. “There was, apparently, a tragic accident. His brain literally melted.”

  Kat blinked in shock. “What happened?”

  “According to the reports, they were preparing to use a mind probe on him,” Duke Falcone said. “They established the link, then there was a sudden surge of power, causing a colossal cerebral hemorrhage. His body was shoved into stasis at once, of course, while medics were called, but by the time they examined him it was far too late. They can keep his body alive, Katherine, yet the man himself is long gone. There isn’t a hope of interrogating him.”

  “That wasn’t an accident,” Kat said.

  “Almost certainly not,” Duke Falcone agreed. “Units of the Special Security Force took everyone in the complex into custody, then checked them all out thoroughly. The mind probe itself was examined. Apparently, it was programmed to generate a power surge when linked to a specific brainprint. As of yet, Katherine, no one has been marked as a potential suspect.”

  Kat swallowed. “Someone reached into the heart of a top-secret detention facility and murdered the one man who might be able to explain what happened at Cadiz.”

  “Precisely,” Duke Falcone said. “I don’t think I need to explain to you the political consequences.”

  “No,” Kat said. She’d seriously considered killing Admiral Morrison herself, before thinking better of it. Clearly, his unknown patrons had been thinking along the same lines. “Whoever was backing Admiral Morrison will remain unidentified.”

  “Quite,” her father agreed. “They may have acted to cover the whole disaster up, Katherine, or they may have something darker in mind. And we still don’t have the slightest idea who they are.”

  “Or why they promoted Admiral Morrison,” Kat said. “We have no suspects at all?”

  “There are thirteen dukes,” her father said dryly. “Seeing I know I didn’t do it, that leaves twelve possible suspects. All of whom, I might add, have enough political power to quash any accusations without solid proof.”

  He shook his head. “We have a war to fight, Katherine,” he concluded. “For now, all we can do is watch, wait, and see if they reveal themselves. And take precautions, in case this is more than a simple attempt to cover up a major blunder.”

  “I understand,” Kat said.

  “I hope so,” her father agreed. “Because if they can reach into a top-secret detention facility and murder our single most important prisoner, without leaving any traces that point back to them, what else can they do?”

  END OF BOOK TWO

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Christopher G. Nuttall has been planning sci-fi books since he learned to read. Born and raised in Edinburgh, Chris created an alternate history website and eventually graduated to writing full-sized novels. Studying history independently allowed him to develop worlds that hung together and provided a base for storytelling. After graduating from university, Chris started writing full-time. As an indie author, he has published eighteen novels and one novella (so far) through Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing. Professionally, he has published The Royal Sorceress, Bookworm, A Life Less Ordinary, Sufficiently Advanced Technology, The Royal Sorceress II: The Great Game and Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling with Elsewhen Press, and Schooled in Magic through Twilight Times Books.

  As a matter of principle, all of Chris’s self-published Kindle books are DRM-free.

  Chris has a blog where he publishes updates, snippets, and world-building notes at www.chrishanger.wordpress.com, and a website at www.chrishanger.net.

  Chris is currently living in Edinburgh with his partner, muse, and critic Aisha.