“Lieutenant,” William said, “how are things in your department?”
“A little shaken up, sir,” Cecelia said. “The enemy caught us by surprise and no one’s quite sure how they managed to do it.”
“I’m sure,” William said dryly. He looked her in the eye. “Have you been having any more problems with gambling?”
Cecelia flinched. “No, sir,” she said. “I’ve been too busy to do anything other than my duties.”
William nodded slowly. Crewman Steadman, who’d lured Cecelia into his gambling network, had been transferred off the ship when Lightning returned to Tyre, along with most of his cronies. The notes William had put in their files should ensure they were never assigned to any frontline ships, although the demands of war might overrule his wishes. Cecelia would have a chance to grow out of her mistakes, if she had the determination. She seemed to be doing fine.
“Someone leaked,” he said flatly. “The enemy knew where we were going in advance.”
Cecelia looked relieved. “Yes, sir,” she said. “That was my conclusion too.”
“Good,” William said. He felt a flicker of pity for her. She had to know that the leak had almost certainly come from the tactical department, her command. On the other hand, if she’d had concerns, she should have brought them to him. He’d have to give her a stern lecture later. “Do you have any suspects?”
“No, sir,” Cecelia said. She took a long breath. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone with a valid reason to support the Theocracy.”
“There aren’t any valid reasons to support the Theocracy,” William growled. A young woman like Cecelia would have to be utterly insane to support the Theocracy, which would—at best—regard her as a brood mare. “But someone else might disagree.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. The thought of having everyone in the department interrogated was horrific. It would undermine the bonds of trust between officers and crewmen as surely as the spy’s existence would undermine the glue binding the ship’s crew together. No one, absolutely no one, liked the idea of being drugged, then having to answer questions . . .
“I think we need to go through the files again,” he said, keying his wristcom. Davidson could start making preparations to carry out the interrogations, one by one. “Let me see whom you have under your command.”
Cecelia nodded, then tapped her terminal, calling up the files. Lightning had fifteen tactical officers in all, ranging from officers on the command track to analysts who weren’t expected to rise any higher in the service. William marked the latter as potential suspects, particularly if one of them had been pushed into becoming an analyst rather than remaining on the command track. Resentment could be a powerful motivator, after all . . .
But we need officers and men, he thought. There’s a bloody war on. They could probably reapply to the command track and no one would try to stop them. It isn’t as if any of them are super-users from Tyre.
He scowled. The more he looked at it, the more he wondered if the only viable suspect was Cecelia herself. She had a past, after all, and while it was a very minor past it would be enough to damage her promotion prospects beyond repair. There might be no alternative, but to put a young officer through enhanced interrogation . . .
Damn it, he thought. They’re all from decent families with naval backgrounds . . .
He stopped as a thought occurred to him, then started cross-referencing the dossiers with other naval files. If the officers were members of naval families, it was quite possible that one or more of them had a relative who had been captured by the enemy. It should have sufficed to have the officer removed from any sensitive position—the prospect of blackmail couldn’t be ignored—but maybe there had been a glitch in the system. Or, perhaps, something had been overlooked.
“Bingo,” he said, delighted. “Look what I’ve found.”
Cecelia frowned. “Lieutenant Aloysius Parker,” she said. “Newly minted; command track . . . with a sister who was listed as missing in action after the Battle of Cadiz. Not a confirmed POW . . .”
“No,” William mused. There were times when he really hated bureaucracy. “And because she wasn’t listed as a POW, there was no red flag in his file.”
He gritted his teeth in rage. There had been so much confusion during the first battle that quite a few officers had been listed as MIA, even though they were probably either prisoners or dead. The Theocracy hadn’t bothered to open negotiations regarding POWs; they certainly hadn’t even shared the details of captured officers and men with the Commonwealth. No doubt they’d calculated that refusing to swap POWs hurt the Commonwealth more than the Theocracy. He had to admit that they were probably right.
“It doesn’t prove anything, sir,” Cecelia pointed out carefully.
“He should have declined the assignment,” William said. He opened the next set of files, just to check to see if there were any other possible suspects. “If you can be forced into betraying your planet, you are supposed to take it to your superiors and ensure you are not posted to anywhere harmful. There are procedures in place for that.”
“Yes, sir,” Cecelia said.
“Stay here,” William ordered once he’d finished skimming the remaining files. He had no faith in Cecelia’s ability to dissemble, not when he needed to round up the Marines and make the arrest. Maybe he didn’t have proof, but at least he had solid grounds for carrying out a formal interrogation. “I’ll deal with the matter personally.”
“Yes, sir,” Cecelia said. “What . . . what are you going to do to him?”
William sighed. It was easy to feel sorry for Parker—and, no doubt, when the case finally came to trial, the defense lawyer would spin a sob story for the jury. But Parker had managed to get several hundred crewmen killed and a number of ships destroyed or put permanently out of commission. There couldn’t be mercy . . .
“It would depend on just how cooperative he’s feeling,” he said finally. The Theocracy might not realize the spy had been caught . . . assuming, of course, that Parker was the spy and he wasn’t following a wild goose chase. “But that will be up to the captain.”
“Yes, sir,” Cecelia said.
William rose, headed out of the office, and walked through the tactical department. Parker didn’t look any different, even though he was certainly guilty at the very least of concealing the fact he could be blackmailed. But the XO hadn’t really expected horns growing out of his skull. He did look tense, but that proved nothing. Half the crew looked tense when they had a moment to think about just how impossibly unlikely the ambush had been.
He keyed his wristcom as soon as he was out of the department. “I have a suspect,” he said shortly. “Set up to receive him in tactical chamber five, then have Roach call him into the compartment.”
“Aye, Commander,” Davidson said. He sounded disgustingly fresh and alert, although William had a suspicion he’d spent the night in the captain’s cabin. On the other hand, anyone who’d lived through boot camp would be able to survive on three to four hours of sleep a day. “I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
And hope to hell we got the right one, William thought. Technically, the captain had the authority to order an interrogation on weak—or even nonexistent—grounds, but it wouldn’t look good when the ship returned to port. Because if we didn’t, we’ll have to interrogate the entire tactical crew.
Tactical chamber five was really nothing more than a small briefing compartment, used to demonstrate tactical concepts to the crew and rehearse operational plans before showing them to the commanding officers. The Marines took it over quickly, then called Roach and asked him to send Parker to the chamber. It wouldn’t alert the suspect, William hoped. The tactical staff were often asked to go through minor concepts by their superior officers; now, after the squadron had been ambushed, there was good reason to go through everything with a fine-tooth comb. Moments la
ter, Parker stepped through the hatch and was promptly grabbed by two Marines.
Davidson stepped forward. “Lieutenant Parker, we have strong reason to believe that you have been working as an enemy intelligence agent,” he said formally. “By authority of the War Powers Act, it is my duty to subject you to an enhanced interrogation procedure. I am obliged to warn you that your normal rights and legal protections have been placed in abeyance and the captain will stand in judgment over you. However, if you cooperate, the case will be placed in front of a court-martial once we return to Tyre.”
He nodded to the Marines, who cuffed Parker to a chair. “Do you have anything you want to say for yourself before we begin?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Parker said. “I wasn’t given a choice!”
“I see,” Davidson said. He gentled his voice, slightly. “Tell us everything, starting from the beginning.”
William listened, carefully, as the whole story slipped out. Parker’s sister had been captured on Cadiz. The Theocracy had then contacted him on Tyre and told him to spy for them if he didn’t want his sister brutally raped and murdered. He’d requested assignment to the squadron in the belief it would be going somewhere safe, somewhere where he would have an excuse for not being very useful, but instead he’d discovered himself in enemy space. And they would have known if he hadn’t done anything to help them . . .
And he betrayed the entire crew, William thought coldly. We cannot let him live.
“How did you send the messages?” Davidson asked. “What tricks did you use?”
“Reprogrammed the communication nodes,” Parker explained. “It was the only way to get a message out without it being logged.”
William sighed, then drew Davidson aside for a brief consultation. “Drug him and verify as much of the story as possible, then transfer him to the brig as secretly as possible,” he ordered. It wouldn’t be easy to conceal the fact they’d taken a prisoner, but with so many crewmen moving around it should be possible to conceal just what had happened to Lieutenant Parker. “Captain Falcone will have to decide his fate.”
“Yes, sir,” Davidson said. “We might be able to use him.”
“I think so,” William said. They’d have to sit down and go through everything with Parker, but there wasn’t any strong reason why that couldn’t be done. “Send them a piece of information to misdirect them . . . you never know.”
He sighed. The only upside to the whole affair, at least, was that they’d found the spy. But were there any others? Even if there were none, and Parker probably wouldn’t know if there were, the crew’s trust had been broken. The long-term consequences could be disastrous.
“I’m going to report to the captain,” he said. “Write out a full report, then forward it to both of us.”
“Of course, sir,” Davidson said. He looked at Parker. “A weak man, at the end.”
“Yeah,” William agreed. “But at least he can’t do any more harm.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Captain?”
Kat glanced at the hatch, then muttered a curse under her breath. “Come in!”
The door opened, revealing the XO. “You didn’t answer the buzzer,” he said. “I was worried.”
“I’m fine,” Kat said, crossly. She glanced down at the datapad in her hand. “I was reading the personnel files.”
“We caught the spy,” the XO said. “Or one of them, if there is more than one.”
Kat nodded slowly. “Did you know that Midshipwoman Toni Jackson was in a band? That she had a handful of friends who played in bars on Tyre, when they had a chance to meet up? That she turned down a music deal to remain in the Navy?”
“No, Captain,” the XO said.
“Or that Lieutenant Sally Pagan loved old books,” Kat added. “She was a reservist; she worked at the Planetary Library after retiring from the Navy the first time and is credited with restoring a very old copy of Foundation. There’s even a copy of an article she wrote on pre-hyperspace science fiction and how it predicted the future—and what it managed to get wrong.”
She shook her head tiredly. “I didn’t know either of them.”
“But they’re both dead,” the XO said. “It doesn’t get any easier to lose people, Captain.”
“I know,” Kat said sourly. “But I can’t help feeling guilty about not knowing them. They’re names and faces in files, nothing more. I never heard Midshipwoman Jackson play; I never read Lieutenant Pagan’s articles . . . I never really even knew they existed. And there are hundreds more just like them, hundreds of people who are now dead.”
She looked back at the datapad, picking names out at random. “Senior Crewman Thomas Throne had a drinking problem,” she said. “He was fine onboard ship, according to his mates, but when he was on shore leave he would get drunk and spend his time battling the redcaps. Crewwomen Laura Adams was caught having an orgy with three other crewwomen two years ago, apparently. Crewman Lesley Morse had three children, all of whom are only just entering their teens. What do I tell them when they ask why they had to grow up without a father?
“I need to write a letter for each and every one of them,” she added bitterly. “And I didn’t know any of them well enough to say anything.”
The XO frowned. “You might have to send them a form letter, Captain,” he said. “There isn’t time for you to write out five hundred separate letters.”
“I should write them each a personal letter,” Kat insisted. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“There’s a department back home that handles such matters,” the XO reminded her. “You would not be responsible for taking care of the families.”
“These people died under my command,” Kat insisted. “It’s something I have to handle personally.”
She glared down at the datapad, then put it on the table. It had been easier when she’d been a junior officer; she’d known everyone in her department, as well as most of the rest of the crew. Now . . . she didn’t know everyone on Lightning, let alone the remainder of the squadron. There simply hadn’t been time to walk through her ship and meet her crewmen, even though they were under her command. And now far too many of them were dead.
“We’re going to hold a proper funeral in an hour,” she added curtly. “And maybe even a remembrance ceremony.”
“Those are private gatherings,” the XO said. “You cannot order one to take place.”
Kat glowered at him. He was right.
“Yes,” she said finally. She ran her hand through her hair, then looked at him. “What did the spy have to say for himself?”
“Basically, he was forced into spying for the enemy after his sister was taken prisoner, Captain,” the XO said. “They provided proof she was still alive and reasonably safe, as long as he followed orders. In short, the bastards got lucky.”
“Very lucky,” Kat muttered.
“Parker tried to get himself assigned to somewhere harmless,” the XO added. “He just happened to find himself here.”
Kat had to laugh. “Shot ourselves in the foot, didn’t we?”
“In more ways than one,” the XO confirmed. “The sister wasn’t listed as an official POW, so his file wasn’t flagged . . . hell, Captain, the CIS let us down pretty badly.”
“In hindsight, I should have walked into Admiral Morrison’s office and shot him out of hand,” Kat said tartly. She would have been executed for murdering her superior officer—not even her father could have saved her from the gallows—but it might have preserved thousands of lives. “There’s no point in wishing to change the past.”
She took a breath. “They know the spy is trustworthy now,” she added after a moment. “We could use this, somehow. Misdirect them.”
“It’ll only work once,” the XO warned. “They’d assume the worst after we used the spy against them.”
“I know,” Kat said.
She looked back down at the datapad. It was hard to think straight, not when so many lives had been lost, not when she felt terrifyingly guilty. How could she feel that it wasn’t her fault? She’d been the one who’d made the mistake of sharing too much information with her junior officers, unaware that one was planning to betray her. And the enemy had given her a bloody nose, restoring their own morale. She’d embarrassed them and hurt them, she knew, but it wasn’t enough.
“We need to go back on the offensive,” she said. “But most of the significant targets are too well defended for our weakened forces, particularly now.”
“Then we find a weak point,” the XO said. “They can’t guard everywhere against a sneak attack.”
Kat shrugged, then tapped her console, bringing up the star chart. The easy targets were largely insignificant, unless she wanted to bombard civilian populations from orbit. It would annoy the Theocracy, but it wouldn’t significantly hamper them. The handful of more viable targets were risky as hell, given her shortage of warships. And the enemy might have started parceling out superdreadnoughts to cover them.
“We have a choice,” she said, finally. “We can either head deeper into enemy space, where we might be able to find more significant targets, or we can return to the Commonwealth. I don’t think we have the resources to risk more attacks in this sector.”
The XO hesitated. “There’s another possibility,” he said. “Actually, there are two of them.”
Kat looked up. “Go on.”
“First, we scout around Aswan and wait for a convoy to depart,” the XO said. “And then we attack it in hyperspace.”
Falcone Strike (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 2) Page 29