“We got her,” the tactical officer snapped. He sounded exultant. “Lightning has lost main power. Her shields and weapons are down.”
“Lock missiles on her hull,” Samuel ordered. “Prepare to . . .”
And then he realized his mistake.
William cursed under his breath as Lightning lost main power, her hull starting to tumble through space as her shields failed completely. But she’d made the enemy panic, forcing them to push their shields forward . . .
“Fire,” he roared. “All weapons, fire!”
Glory of God seemed to flinch under his fire, spitting out a barrage of missiles in Uncanny’s general direction. But it was too late to switch their shields back. Their rear hull was as unprotected as Lightning herself, and her point defense was practically gone. William watched, refusing to take his eyes off the display, until his barrage slammed into the enemy ship’s hull and blew her into an expanding fireball.
“Target destroyed,” Roach said. “I think we won.”
“Yeah,” William muttered. He keyed his console. “Deploy shuttles to recover Lightning’s life pods.”
“Aye, Captain,” Major Lupine said.
William glanced at the display. Lightning was thoroughly wrecked; he doubted the Navy would choose to repair her when it would probably be cheaper to build a whole new ship. Kat had believed, she had to have believed, that Lightning had been doomed when she’d turned the ship around, gambling that she could make the enemy panic and accidentally expose their hull to his fire. And she’d been right.
Lucky girl, he thought.
He tapped his console again. “Damage report?”
“We took a beating, Captain,” Goodrich said. “Fusion Two is definitely going to be offline for the foreseeable future and Fusion Three isn’t in much better shape. I’ll have a full report for you in the next few hours, but I can confidently tell you right now we are in no state for another engagement.”
“Do what you can,” William ordered. Uncanny would probably have to limp back to the Commonwealth. Vangelis would possibly agree to help, but their shipyard wasn’t designed to assist a heavy cruiser. “Let me know when you have a full report.”
The display bleeped an alert. “Captain,” Roach reported, “we have five destroyers dropping out of hyperspace. They’re lighting us up with tactical sensors.”
William clenched his fists. The ships had to be from Jorlem. “Hail them,” he ordered. “Thank them for agreeing to assist with our SAR operations.”
“I’m picking up a signal,” Stott said.
“Put it through,” William ordered.
A man wearing a uniform so fancy that William knew he didn’t have any genuine naval experience blinked into existence on the display. “This is Grand Admiral Vernon of the Jorlem Navy,” he said. “You have breached the neutrality of the Jorlem System. By command of President Alexis, you are hereby ordered to lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.”
Odd choice of words, William thought. Or maybe it wasn’t odd at all. He’s making it clear that the orders came straight from the president.
William took a moment to formulate his thoughts. “Grand Admiral,” he said. He was staring down the barrels of a court-martial anyway. He might as well be blunt. “Are you aware that my ship outguns all five of your ships by at least three orders of magnitude?”
Vernon looked irked, just for a second. “By command of President Alexis . . .”
“A full report is already winging its way back to the Commonwealth,” William said. It wasn’t entirely a bluff. Lightning had sent a signal to the StarCom as soon as the engagement had begun. “Do you want the Commonwealth to thank you for assisting with the post-battle cleanup or come after you for supporting the Theocracy?”
He leaned forward. “President Alexis will not thank you for embroiling him in war,” he added warningly. “Stand down or start a fight you cannot possibly win.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. William prayed silently that Vernon would see sense and back down. He had no idea just what President Alexis had in mind, but Glory of God was now nothing more than space dust. The Commonwealth wouldn’t need more than a cruiser squadron to teach Jorlem a salutary lesson. Whatever President Alexis had hoped to gain from working with the Theocracy, it hadn’t materialized.
“I will deploy my ships to assist with your recovery efforts,” Vernon said finally. “And I congratulate you on your great victory.”
“Thank you,” William said, silently relieved. Uncanny outgunned Vernon’s ships, but as badly damaged as she was, the locals might still have won. “It came at a great cost.”
He closed the channel. Lightning was gone, Uncanny was badly damaged, and countless crewmen had been killed or injured. The victory had come at a very high cost.
But we won, he told himself. He looked at the fragments of debris floating through space . . . all that remained of the enemy warship. It could have been a great deal worse.
CHAPTER FORTY
Joel felt anticipation tinged with apprehension as the landing pod was finally moved out of the station’s launching bay and aimed towards the green-blue planet below. The last two weeks had been filled with holographic briefings, covering everything he and his comrades needed to know about the planet below. Bastille, named by someone with a sick sense of humor, was rated marginal, but at least it was habitable. It wasn’t quite as bad as being thrown out the nearest airlock.
It has potential, he thought, privately.
Speaking to his former comrades had been harrowing. A couple had turned state’s evidence, confessing everything in exchange for lighter sentences; others, knowing their hands were too bloody to be forgiven, had turned on Joel himself. He’d nearly been knifed twice before he’d beaten some sense back into their heads. They needed leadership if they were to survive and prosper; they needed him, the man who had tied them together once before. The whole situation wasn’t ideal, only a fool would claim it was ideal, but it could be tolerated if they worked together.
He felt the pod quiver. They would be landing close, but not too close, to one of the largest settlements on the surface. None of the reports had made their destination sound like anything more than a hellish nightmare from out of the depths of time, a shitty little village held together by spit, baling wire, and brute force. The man in charge was a thug, using his band of hooligans to keep the rest of the population under control. And he lacked vision . . .
We can take over, he thought. He had fifty men and women under his command armed with hunting rifles and pistols. Then we can start building something better.
It wasn’t what he’d wanted, he knew. All of his hopes and dreams had shattered the moment Sir William regained control of his ship. There were many hard days to come, but they still beat being thrown out an airlock. He’d just have to keep reminding himself of that, when the grueling days came.
“Attention,” a quiet voice said, “prepare yourself for entry procedure.”
Joel sat upright and braced himself. His new life was about to begin . . .
. . . and, he swore privately, he would make it a better one.
“I do trust,” the First Space Lord said, “that you have some kind of an explanation?”
He went on before Kat could say a word. “Your crew”—his voice dripped scorn—“swears blind that you liberated the cloudscoop personally, risking your life to save the civilian crew from their captors. Is there any actual truth in it?”
“It’s in my report, sir,” Kat said evenly.
“But I am asking you, Captain Falcone,” the First Space Lord said. “Did you deliberately put your life at risk?”
“Yes, sir,” Kat said.
The First Space Lord glared at her. “And by what reasoning,” he demanded, “did you leave your bridge during a delicate situation?”
“I believed the pirates would need to be tempted with a grand prize,” Kat said. “The biggest prize I had on hand was myself.”
“The media
has already picked up on the story,” the First Space Lord said. “Who do you think you are? Captain Dreadnought? Stellar Star, Queen of the Spaceways? Putting your life in danger like that was utterly unacceptable.”
“I was aware of the risks, sir,” Kat said.
“And your XO filed an official dissent,” the First Space Lord added. “Did you know that?”
“I assumed as much,” Kat said. Crenshaw had reported his concerns about the mutiny on Uncanny to her, pointing out that most of the mutineers had been colonials. She’d eventually told him to shut up during the long voyage home from Jorlem. “Commander Crenshaw questioned a number of my decisions.”
He will be reassigned in the next few weeks, she added silently. He’ll be a pain in someone else’s ass.
“If the media hadn’t picked up on the story, you’d be facing a court-martial board,” the First Space Lord said. “As it happened, the Board of Inquiry has decided that you will face no charges for putting your life at risk.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kat said.
“Thank me for nothing,” the First Space Lord said. “If you pull something that stupid again, Captain Falcone, I’ll bust you back to cadet and ship you to the most remote asteroid mining station I can find.”
Kat said nothing. She didn’t blame him for being angry. If something had gone wrong . . .
The First Space Lord took a long breath. “The destruction of HMS Lightning would be a black mark on your record, under other circumstances,” he added. “As it happens, the Board of Inquiry has decided that her loss was acceptable. You’ll be put back in the command pool without further delay.”
In all truth, Kat wasn’t sure she wanted another command. Lightning had been special, and triggering her self-destruct, after the crew had stripped the derelict hulk of anything useful, had hurt beyond all reason. She would hardly be the first officer to lose a starship, but she’d hoped against all she knew that the ship could be recovered. And then she’d been ordered to destroy the hulk . . .
“Thank you, sir,” she said finally.
“Admiral Christian is putting together a task force to start the long-awaited counterattack,” the First Space Lord informed her. “He has requested that you and your new command be posted to his fleet. Indeed, I believe there may be a promotion in line for you.”
Kat swallowed. She was far too young, with far too little time in grade, to be promoted out of a command chair, but she was also one of the most experienced and well-connected officers in the Navy. She wouldn’t be allowed to remain a mere captain forever. Her father, if no one else, would want her to take up a higher rank to expand his patronage network within the military.
“You still have your duty,” the First Space Lord said softly. “And afterwards . . . well, we will see.”
“Yes, sir,” Kat said.
She met his eyes. “And the mutiny on Uncanny?”
“The Board of Inquiry is still debating the matter,” the First Space Lord said. “Too much has leaked out to the media for us to handle it quietly. Assigning blame might take a few months . . . years, perhaps.”
“Sir William cannot be blamed for a plot that was devised long before he took command,” Kat said. “Or for failing to see it coming.”
“That’s for the Board of Inquiry to determine,” the First Space Lord said. “I dare say you will be called upon to testify soon enough.”
“Yes, sir,” Kat said.
She felt a stab of pity for William. His first command had turned into a nightmare, even if Uncanny had dealt the killing blow to Glory of God. Hell, they were even talking about scrapping Uncanny rather than making repairs to return her to active service. William would be lucky to get another command . . .
Her resolve hardened. “Sir,” she said, “if I’m being promoted, I want him for my flag captain.”
The First Space Lord lifted his eyebrows. “And you feel the Board of Inquiry would respect your wishes?”
“Yes,” Kat said. She was a Falcone, damn it. She might as well get some use out of the family name. “He’s a more than competent commanding officer, sir.”
“We shall see,” the First Space Lord said. “It depends on the outcome of the . . . discussions.”
He sighed. “You have a couple of week’s leave,” he added. “I suggest you use it to relax.”
Kat nodded as she rose. Clearly someone had already decided that she was going to be put back on active service as quickly as possible. Thanks to the media and her father, she had already become a legend. The Admiralty would think twice about assigning her to a desk job.
“And give your father my regards,” the First Space Lord added. “I’ll be speaking to him shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” Kat said.
“It has been decided, after extensive investigation, that Captain Sir William McElney, HMS Uncanny, is personally blameless,” Admiral Stillwell said. “Save for Lieutenant Commander Leonard Thompson, Uncanny’s senior staff and militia complement were likewise personally blameless. The mutiny plot was simply too well concealed for any of the senior officers to be reasonably held accountable for failing to uncover it.”
William allowed himself a moment of relief. Stillwell’s words were about as favorable a ruling as he had any right to expect. He’d been Uncanny’s commanding officer. Whatever happened on his ship was his responsibility, even if he didn’t know about it. The Board easily could have ruled him completely responsible and ordered his immediate dismissal from the service.
“Conditions on Uncanny, prior to Sir William taking command, were disgraceful,” Admiral Stillwell continued. “As a breeding ground for discontent and mutiny, they could hardly be bettered. A number of officers have been put under investigation for their role in Captain Abraham’s criminal ring, and those found to have close ties to Abraham will be put in front of a court-martial board in short order. Others who turned a blind eye will be severely censured for their conduct.
“In addition, it has been decided that the IG will run regular checks on crew morale and conditions throughout Home Fleet, in hopes of preventing a second mutiny.”
He paused. “The issue of colonial officers within the Navy, particularly their involvement with the mutiny, has been passed upwards for later consideration. Such issues are outside this board’s remit.”
William winced. The mutiny was going to cause problems for the Navy, even with the Commonwealth gearing up for the great offensive. Colonial crewmen would be regarded as potential mutineers, damaging the military’s trust in them at the worst possible moment. And Rose MacDonald and the other dissidents were going to have a field day with the story, once the implications sunk in.
“The future careers of Sir William and his senior officers will be determined separately,” Admiral Stillwell concluded. “This Board of Inquiry is now brought to an end.”
The room buzzed as the spectators rose and hurried towards the exits. William remained seated, feeling unaccountably tired. It wasn’t the end, no matter what Stillwell said. He’d been relieved of command as soon as Uncanny had reached Tyre; now, without a command, he honestly didn’t know what to do. And he doubted, somehow, that he’d be offered another command in a hurry. He might be the commanding officer who’d recovered his ship from a bunch of mutineers, but he was also the commanding officer who’d lost his ship. The Navy would find good reason to worry about him even if he hadn’t been a colonial officer.
“William,” a quiet voice said, “how are you feeling?”
William glanced up. Kat Falcone stood there, wearing her dress uniform.
“I didn’t see you come in,” he said. “Did you hear the announcement?”
“You’re not being blamed,” Kat said.
“Not officially,” William said. He shook his head. “The media loves you, but seems torn on me.”
“The government managed to ban most open discussion of the whole affair,” Kat said. “They didn’t want to damage civilian morale.”
“I wouldn’t have thought
they needed to bother,” William pointed out. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Civilians never understand what is going on.”
Kat nodded. She seemed to have grown older in the last few weeks, William noted. But then she’d lost a ship too. Her family connections would probably get her a new command sooner rather than later, but Lightning had been her first command. No later ship would be quite the same.
“Come to lunch,” she said, rising. “I booked a table.”
William blinked. “Right now?”
“Nothing will happen for a few days,” Kat said. “You have enough time to join my father and me for lunch, I think.”
“If you wish,” William said. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but it was the best he could do. “She was a lucky ship in the end, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” Kat agreed. “She was a very lucky ship.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christopher G. Nuttall has been planning science fiction books since he learned how to read. Born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, he studied history, which inspired him to imagine new worlds and create an alternate-history website. Those imaginings provided a solid base for storytelling and eventually led him to write books. He has published at least fifty novels and one novella through Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing, including the bestselling Ark Royal series. He has also published twenty-seven novels with small presses, including the Royal Sorceress series, the Bookworm series, A Life Less Ordinary, and Sufficiently Advanced Technology with Elsewhen Press, as well as the Schooled in Magic series through Twilight Times Books.
Cursed Command is his third book in the Angel in the Whirlwind series, following The Oncoming Storm and Falcone Strike. Chris resides in Edinburgh with his partner, muse, and critic, Aisha.
Visit his blog at www.chrishanger.wordpress.com and his website at www.chrishanger.net.
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