Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The Theocracy will want this planet,” Crenshaw muttered. “I’m surprised they haven’t already tried to lay claim to Vangelis.”

  “They’re concentrating on the war,” Kat muttered back. Crenshaw had a point, but the Theocracy might have found any attempt to take and hold Vangelis incredibly costly. And much of the industry they wanted to take would be destroyed in the crossfire. “I think they’ll be planning to secure Vangelis after beating us.”

  “Captain,” Linda said. “I’m picking up a message from System Command. They’re giving us an orbital slot and requesting details of our planned schedule.”

  Crenshaw scowled. “Is that normal?”

  “It can be,” Kat said. She looked at Linda. “Inform them that we will be heading to Jorlem after completing our business here. If they have any ships that want to be escorted there, they can let us know before we depart.”

  “Captain,” Crenshaw asked, “is it wise to let them know our schedule?”

  “It’s no secret,” Kat said. “And escorting a convoy from here to Jorlem might win us some additional goodwill.”

  She nodded to Linda, then returned her attention to the display. If the pirates were monitoring local traffic or had a source in System Command, they’d know where Lightning and Uncanny were going. But they’d also know that the two cruisers would be escorting freighters, ships they would otherwise have tried to take as prizes. She had no doubt that System Command would try to take advantage of the opportunity. It was what she would have done.

  “Picking up a handful of light cruisers in high orbit,” Lieutenant Commander Samuel Weiberg reported. “They’re Brandon-class cruisers, from Tyre.”

  “Purchased four years ago,” Kat said. The Falcone Corporation had sold them, if she recalled correctly. Her father had been hopeful that it would help strengthen ties between Vangelis and the Commonwealth—or at least the Falcone Corporation—but Vangelis had successfully maintained its political and economic independence ever since. “Are they in good condition?”

  “I think so,” Weiberg said. “They’re not using the latest sensor gear, Captain, but there’s nothing to suggest that they’re not in tip-top shape. I’d have taken them for our cruisers if they didn’t have the wrong IFF codes.”

  “We’ll see if we can run an exercise while we’re here,” Kat said. She doubted it would be possible, for political reasons, but it was worth asking. The local navy might want the chance to exercise against the Commonwealth. “What’s your assessment of the local defenses?”

  “They look good,” Weiberg said, “but they clearly haven’t learned many lessons from the war. Too many of their automated fortifications are too close together. I suspect that antimatter warheads would make a mess of the datanet, whatever else they did. If the Theocracy launched an attack, just like they did during First Cadiz, they’d be able to inflict a great deal of damage quickly.”

  Crenshaw coughed. “Should we be pointing that out to them?”

  “Perhaps,” Kat said. Offhand, she couldn’t recall if Vangelis had ever sent any observers to the war. It was possible, but unlikely. “We’ll see how things go.”

  “Captain, we just received a message from the planetary government,” Linda said. “They’re inviting you to a meeting this evening with a high-ranking representative.”

  “Good,” Kat said. She glanced at the details as they scrolled up on her console, reading between the lines. The words were bland, but they’d already cleared her a route through the planet’s orbital space and down through the atmosphere, suggesting that she was going to meet a very high-ranking representative. “Tell them I’ll be down ASAP.”

  She turned to Crenshaw. “Mr. XO, you have the bridge,” she said. “Inform Captain McElney that he has command of the squadron. Now that we’ve reached Vangelis, the freighters can be released to their next destination.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Crenshaw said. “And shore leave?”

  Kat was privately surprised he’d thought of it. But she had to admit he’d been improving—slightly—over the last five weeks.

  “We’re due to remain here for two days, at least,” she said. It wouldn’t be very much, but after spending five weeks cooped up on a starship everyone would be grateful. “Organize a shore leave rota. Try and make sure that everyone gets some time on the planet.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Crenshaw said.

  Kat nodded, then returned to her cabin and changed into her dress uniform. The invitation had specified that it was a private meeting—she was surprised Crenshaw hadn’t started insisting that it was a trap—which meant the local government probably wanted complete deniability. And that meant that she would be meeting either the president himself or a member of his cabinet. She checked her appearance in the mirror, her steward bustling around her until he was satisfied, then picked up her datapad and headed for the main shuttlebay. ONI’s files on the planetary government were irritatingly vague—Vangelis wasn’t considered that important—but she was fairly sure she’d be meeting one of the people on the list of major politicians. She boarded the shuttle, gave the pilot his instructions, and then settled down to read the files.

  Vangelis City didn’t look that different to Tyre, she noted, as the shuttle dropped through the atmosphere and headed towards the city. Their capital was expanding rapidly, hundreds of giant skyscrapers reaching up towards the sky, thousands of air and ground cars clearly visible as people bustled to and from their workplaces. The capital didn’t seem to have any real planning, although there was no way to be sure. Kat had visited a couple of cities that had been planned out in every detail long before they’d been built; they’d all struck her as boring. The designers had had no souls.

  She tugged at her uniform in irritation. And then they went on to design the Navy’s dress uniforms.

  “I’m picking up the landing beacon,” the pilot said. He nodded towards a giant tower, positioned neatly at the heart of the city. “Permission to land?”

  “Granted,” Kat said.

  She felt her heart starting to race as the shuttle touched down neatly on the landing pad, the hatch sliding open a moment later. The tower was, officially, a business headquarters, but it was close enough to Government House for a high-ranking official to make his way from one building to the other without being observed. And she was sure there was a secret tunnel or two under the streets. Tyre City was riddled with secret tunnels.

  “Captain Falcone,” a smartly dressed man said as she stepped out of the shuttle, “if you’ll come with me . . .”

  Kat hid her amusement as he led her down a flight of stairs and into a large, private dining room. The meeting had a complete lack of ceremony, something she knew would annoy an accredited diplomat, yet she’d never liked ceremony. Besides, her father had told her more than once that excessive ceremony was often used to hide weakness. It wasn’t something she’d been taught to respect.

  “Lady Falcone,” a calm voice said. Kat straightened up as she recognized the planetary president. “That is the correct form of address, is it not?”

  “Please, call me Kat or Captain Falcone,” Kat said. “This is not an official meeting.”

  “Of course not,” President Daniel Thorne said. He waved a hand at the table. “Please, take a seat and order dinner.”

  Kat sat, Thorne sitting down facing her. His face had been rejuvenated, giving him a strikingly youthful appearance, but she believed he wasn’t any younger than her father. Clearly the fashion for mature looks hadn’t yet spread to Vangelis. The files hadn’t specified Thorne’s age, yet they revealed that he’d been the leader of the planet’s second-largest political party for five years before winning the last set of elections. He was hardly a political naïf.

  “Please, order,” he said, indicating the menu. “This building is often used for quiet dinners and discussions.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Kat said. She ordered roast lamb and potatoes, then settled into her chair. “And thank you for inviting me.”<
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  “I read the diplomatic package,” President Thorne said. “You’re an odd choice for a diplomat.”

  “I’m not a diplomat,” Kat said honestly. There was no point in protesting otherwise. She had no idea what sort of intelligence-gathering apparatus Vangelis had in Tyre, but they wouldn’t need to do anything more than ask to get her public dossier. “They sent me because I can speak bluntly and testify to the threat facing your world.”

  “So I hear,” President Thorne said. A waiter appeared, carrying two glasses that he put down in front of the diners, and then he withdrew as quietly as he’d entered. “But I have been led to believe that the outcome of the war is inevitable.”

  “We would like to believe so,” Kat said. She met his eyes. “But wars are often unpredictable.”

  “Agreed,” President Thorne said.

  He took a sip of his drink, then continued. “As these are unofficial discussions,” he said, “I shall commit a terrible diplomatic blunder and be blunt. The Theocracy is a potential threat to us, despite our ongoing defensive programs, but the Commonwealth is also a potential threat. Our merchants are not amused at being locked out of the Free Trade Zone.”

  “The zone is open to Commonwealth members,” Kat pointed out.

  “But it also serves as a way for Tyre to dominate the Commonwealth,” Thorne countered. “Even now, you are still attempting to serve the civilian market while mustering your forces for war.”

  “We would not want outsiders to take advantage of a war being fought on their behalf,” Kat said sharply.

  “Quite,” President Thorne agreed. “But those outsiders would also be reluctant to surrender their independence.”

  “Each Commonwealth world has full self-government,” Kat said. “That’s a declared right, laid down in the Commonwealth Charter.”

  “But that isn’t quite accurate,” President Thorne said. “Or is it not true that all member worlds must meet certain requirements before joining?”

  “Requirements that prepare them for membership,” Kat explained. “It would be grossly naive to just accept everyone.”

  “Not everyone would agree,” President Thorne said. “And Tyre has used its economic muscle quite extensively in this sector. If it wasn’t for the war, Kat, I suspect things would be a great deal worse. For us, for the sector . . .”

  He looked down at the table, idly tapping his fingers against the wood. “You promise advantages to joining the Commonwealth,” he said, “but there are also disadvantages. I do not want to see our merchants locked out of markets, our industries swamped by cheap mass-produced goods from off-world, our youngsters unemployed because they do not meet the Commonwealth’s educational standards . . .

  “I’m sure you see our point. There are advantages to membership, but also disadvantages. I do not believe that Congress would consider membership unless they received ironclad guarantees that we would not be treated in such a manner.”

  Kat took a moment to formulate her thoughts. “First, I’m not claiming that the Commonwealth is perfect,” she said. “Even if I had been inclined to believe in perfect political systems, the Commonwealth is not one of them. Its existence is a compromise between several different political imperatives, none of which work together very well.”

  She paused, gauging her next words carefully. “Second, there have been problems,” she admitted. “There is no point in trying to deny it. But prior to the war, many of those issues were nothing more than teething problems. We always knew that investing in the new members, particularly the ones with limited industrial or educational bases of their own, would be a long-term project. Very few of our projections suggested that the whole process would be complete in less than a hundred years.”

  “Assuming you continued to invest in the project,” President Thorne said.

  “Which I believe we would have done,” Kat said. “The whole system was structured to offer profit to both sides.

  “But the war changed all that,” she added. “And it has made . . . other matters far too complex.”

  She met his eyes evenly. “I’m not here to woo you to the Commonwealth,” she said. “I understand that there have been problems, problems that cannot be fixed until the war is finally brought to an end. But we do need to discuss the war’s effects in your sector.”

  “The war is quite some distance from us,” President Throne said evenly.

  He looked up as a trio of waiters arrived, each one carrying a large tray. Kat felt her mouth begin to water as they put her plate in front of her and then left the room. President Thorne smiled, motioning for her to start eating. He clearly had no trouble holding a high-level meeting over dinner.

  But all of this is unofficial-official, she reminded herself.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, the war is quite some distance from you,” she said. “But would that be true if the Theocracy hadn’t decided to start the war? What if they’d decided to invade the Jorlem Sector instead?”

  President Thorne smiled. “What if the Commonwealth hadn’t unilaterally annexed Cadiz?”

  “More to the point, they are already sending advance parties into the sector and attempting to hire freighters, purchase warships, and lay the groundwork for an eventual takeover,” Kat continued, ignoring the jibe. “We believe that they are sponsoring pirate outfits that are raiding your shipping . . .”

  “I see,” President Thorne said. “And how do you know that?”

  “We interrogated the captured pirates extensively,” Kat said. “They didn’t tell us very much—their senior officers were killed—but they did make it clear that they were being paid for destroyed freighters, not just captured freighters. That makes no economic sense, Mr. President. The only power that benefits from destroying freighters is the Theocracy.”

  “Point,” President Thorne agreed.

  Just for a second, she saw something hard and calculating behind his eyes. He had to understand her logic. Vangelis, or any other world within the Jorlem Sector, would have to be out of its collective mind to finance pirates, knowing that discovery would bring colossal retribution. And the pirates were definitely being funded. Only the Theocracy had the means, motive, and opportunity to provide the funding. It wasn’t as if they had anything to lose by angering the Commonwealth—and everyone else—still further.

  “The war is coming in your direction, whatever you have to say about it,” Kat warned. “And I can testify that the records we have been sharing with everyone are accurate. The Theocracy will crush your entire civilization if you refuse to stand up to them.”

  She leaned forward. “We’re not asking you to join the war,” she added. “We’re asking you to help secure this sector against encroachment. And yes, I am empowered to offer long-term concessions in exchange for your cooperation.”

  “An interesting offer,” President Thorne said. “But such offers can be walked back after the war.”

  Kat met his eyes. “Vangelis is not a stage-one colony,” she said bluntly. “You are in a good position to take full advantage of the Free Trade Zone—and Commonwealth membership. I don’t believe there will be any need for long-term investment on your world, certainly not on the same scale as any of the stage-one worlds within the Commonwealth. You would certainly not have to compromise your independence. And even if you don’t want to join, there is a great deal to gain by securing the sector. We would be more than happy to help.”

  “So you say,” President Thorne said. “And I will certainly raise the issue with my cabinet.”

  He paused. “I understand you will be leaving the system in two days?”

  “Depending,” Kat said. “We’ve offered to escort a convoy to Jorlem. We may end up leaving later, once System Command works out a schedule.”

  “I’ll speak to you before then,” President Thorne said. He indicated their meal. “And now, let us talk of something else.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “They don’t look too happy,” Roach observed as they watch
ed the scruffy pirates being herded into the shuttles. “Anyone would think they were going to their execution.”

  “They probably are,” William said. Vangelis wasn’t particularly corrupt, unlike a couple of other worlds he could mention. The pirates would spend the next couple of months in a holding camp until they were finally dispatched to the penal world, instead of bribing their way to freedom as soon as Lightning and Uncanny were safely gone. “Vangelis isn’t a safe place for them.”

  “But a profitable one for us,” Roach said. “The crew is very happy.”

  William smiled. Talon of Death had been sold to a local government-approved broker for five hundred thousand chips, roughly seven thousand crowns. There would be a ruinous rate of exchange, he was sure, if any of the crew wanted to take their prize money home with them, but he’d been assured that five hundred chips were more than enough for a blowout in Spaceport Row. It would definitely do wonders for morale.

  He turned to look at his XO. “The shore leave schedule is worked out?”

  “I had to do some bickering with Mr. Crenshaw, but I think we sorted it out,” Roach said. “I managed to convince him that our crew deserved the first set of leave slots, even though they’re only six hours apiece. Thankfully, they’re not going to be going very far.”

  William nodded. Shore leave could be a sore point, at times; it was counted from the moment the crewman stepped off the shuttle, not when he reached his final destination. It wasn’t uncommon for a large part of a crewman’s shore leave to be taken up by travel, getting to his destination and then heading back. It was a constant niggle.

  “Take care of it,” he ordered, dismissing the thought. “I’ll be in my Ready Room if you need me.”

  He took one last look at the pirates—it was unfortunate that their interrogations had revealed so little—then turned and made his way through the hatch. A pair of crewmen saluted as he passed, their faces showing genuine enthusiasm. There was definitely nothing like a victory, even an easy victory, to boost morale. The prospect of shore leave didn’t hurt either.