Desperate Fire (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  He smiled humorlessly. “As you can imagine, the decision of just how to react to the atrocity will be taken at the very highest level,” he added. “I suspect, however, that 6th Fleet will be called upon to . . . express our displeasure to the Theocracy. You and I will play a role in that expression. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  The image froze. Kat stared down at it for a long moment, then swore out loud. He expected her to abandon the planet? Even if she pushed her life support to the limits, she couldn’t hope to cram more than a few tens of thousands of evacuees into her ships. There would be uncounted hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, left behind.

  She keyed her terminal. “Bobby, I want an all-ships conference call, captains only, in twenty minutes,” she said. “Spread the word.”

  “Aye, Commodore,” Wheeler said.

  Kat rose and strode over to the washroom. Pat was lying in the bath, half-asleep. “Stay here,” she said. “And try to get some rest.”

  She felt a shiver of rage as she hurried out of her cabin and into the conference room. She couldn’t begin to comprehend just how many people had died. A single death was a tragedy, as her instructors had taught her, but millions of deaths were a statistic. It was simply impossible to grasp such figures as anything other than cold numbers. She knew, intellectually, that the dead had all had lives, that they’d had people who loved them . . . but it was so hard to believe. They were all just numbers. But Pat had seen the dead and dying . . .

  And this is William’s homeworld, she thought. The conference room was already starting to fill with holographic images. How is he taking this?

  She made a mental note to have a private talk with her former XO, then took her seat and waited for the rest of her captains to take their places. They’d all been little more than helpless spectators, waiting for an attack none of them believed would materialize. Theocratic forces had nothing to gain by attacking Hebrides now, not after they’d poisoned the entire world. But then, they’d never had anything to gain by taking the planet. Hebrides just hadn’t been important enough to make invading and occupying the surface worth the effort.

  “We have new orders,” Kat said once the last captain had joined the group. “A relief force has been dispatched. Once that force arrives, we will be departing orbit and heading straight for McCaughey . . .”

  “Fuck that,” Captain Apollo Hansen said. “Commodore, we should be here.”

  “This is not up for debate,” Kat said, sharply. She had a sneaking feeling that Admiral Christian hadn’t issued the orders. He’d merely passed them on. “You may register a formal protest in writing, if you wish, but I expect you to have your ship ready for departure once the relief force arrives.”

  Or be relieved of command, she added silently. She appreciated debate among her subordinates, but there were limits. These aren’t my orders.

  “We will be loading as many active stasis pods as we can over the next few days,” she added, “followed by as many evacuees as we can cram into our hulls. You are authorized to redline life support for the next three weeks, giving us time to take as many people as possible. This will not be easy, but I expect you to handle it.”

  There was a long pause. No spacer worthy of the title would play games with life support. Doing so could get everyone on the ship killed. In theory, her warships could easily support double or triple their personnel; in practice, a single fault at the wrong time could condemn hundreds or thousands of spacers to death. She wouldn’t have blamed her captains for protesting in a body. They understood, better than any civilian, just what was at stake.

  “I think we can handle it,” Captain Higgins said. “But if we run into trouble . . .”

  “We’d better hope we don’t,” Kat agreed. The odds of encountering anything more dangerous than a handful of raiders were low, but if they did . . . coming to battle stations with the corridors crammed would be difficult. “Once we arrive at McCaughey, we can offload the evacuees as quickly as possible.”

  William looked up. “And then what?”

  “I don’t know,” Kat said. “The politicians will have to decide how we respond to the atrocity.”

  “By blowing one of their worlds into dust,” Captain Hansen said. “We cannot let them get away with it!”

  “Except they don’t give a damn about their own lives,” Fran said. “Their damned religion says that anyone killed in battle goes straight to heaven. We blast a world out of space, and the fuckers will thank us for it!”

  “We would also be slaughtering countless innocents,” Captain Kurt Connors said. “Can any of you look me in the eye and say the entire planetary population of Ahura Mazda is guilty of anything more than being born on the wrong world?”

  “With all due respect,” Captain Hansen said, “we don’t have any other choice. If we let them think they can get away with it, they’ll do it again and again!”

  Kat tapped the table sharply. “The decision to retaliate or not will be made back on Tyre,” she said. “We cannot influence the decision, one way or the other. And I expect you all to remember that.”

  She pressed on before anyone could object. “Start preparing your ships for taking on evacuees and stasis pods,” she ordered, keeping her voice level. “We’ll leave orbit once the relief force arrives. Any questions?”

  “Some of my medical staff have requested permanent reassignment to the planetary surface,” Captain Rebus Jakes said. “Can I grant them permission?”

  “As long as you keep a third of your medical staff on your ship,” Kat said. She rubbed her forehead in annoyance. A predictable request she hadn’t anticipated. “And the same goes for your marines.”

  She cleared her throat. “William, remain behind,” she ordered. “Everyone else, dismissed.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” William said once the remainder of the images had blinked out of existence. “About what happens next, I mean.”

  Kat studied his image for a long moment. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping; she would have wondered, under other circumstances, if he’d been drinking. But then, she supposed he had a reason to crawl into the bottle for a few hours. His homeworld had been effectively destroyed, its society shattered beyond repair. She had no idea how she’d cope if Tyre was destroyed. Badly, she suspected.

  She leaned forward. “What did you mean?”

  “The evacuees,” William said. “What’s going to happen to them?”

  “I don’t know,” Kat admitted. “There will be holding centers on McCaughey, but after that . . . ?”

  She had no answer. The Commonwealth had done a fairly good job resettling refugees from the Theocracy, but no one had anticipated a sudden deluge of evacuees from Hebrides. Hell, there would be enough of them to maintain a distinct culture even after they were resettled somewhere farther towards Tyre. God alone knew what the locals would make of the newcomers. They might be better off being sent to a world of their own, or one so sparsely settled that there was plenty of room to go around. And yet, it would still be a crisis.

  “They’re not going to like it,” William warned. “Being shipped around like cattle.”

  “No,” Kat agreed. “But do we have a choice?”

  She’d read the preliminary reports from the engineers. Building radiation-proof settlements on Hebrides would be simple enough, but actually repairing the damage to the planet itself within a reasonable timescale would be damn near impossible. Anyone living within the settlements would be stuck in the settlements, unable to leave, unable to expand . . . all the disadvantages of an asteroid colony without any of the advantages. Getting the remaining population off the doomed world, no matter what happened to them afterwards, might be the only way to guarantee that something of their society and culture survived.

  But that might not be a good thing, she thought morbidly. It wasn’t the best of cultures.

  She sharply pushed the thought aside. “Are you all right?”

  “I often thought about going hom
e,” William said. He smiled humorlessly. “And when I do go home, I find I don’t fit in.” He looked down at the deck. “And my homeworld is doomed,” he added. “That does tend to concentrate the mind.”

  Kat nodded. “How are they taking it? Your family, I mean.”

  “I don’t have any immediate family left,” William said. “Save for Scott, but . . . well, you know.”

  “Your smuggler brother,” Kat said. She’d never met Scott and doubted she ever would. “No others?”

  “I have a few cousins, or had, I should say,” William said. “A couple died, apparently. The others married onwards, leaving us behind. My father’s brother was the closest relative we had, and he died before I left for good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Kat said. She had nine siblings and plenty of relatives. But then, the cost of raising children on Tyre was relatively low. “Are you going to be fine?”

  “I should probably put in for a session with the headshrinkers,” William said with a flash of the old humor. They shared a smile. No captain in his right mind would voluntarily walk into a shrink’s office. “I’ll just have to cope with it, just like everyone else. It isn’t ideal, Kat, but . . .”

  “Let me know if you have any problems,” Kat ordered. She’d depended on William throughout her first captaincy. He’d more than earned a command of his own, but she’d missed him deeply during the ill-fated mission to the Jorlem Sector. “And if you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

  “Your young man would probably complain,” William said dryly. He gave her a rather droll smile. “I wasn’t born on Tyre, Kat.”

  Kat blinked. “I know,” she said. That had been literally the first thing she’d learned about her first XO. “I don’t understand the point.”

  “My people are raised to suck up misfortune and keep going,” William said. “Losing any chance to return to my home is unfortunate, but the people down there have it far worse than me. They have to leave their homes, the plots they’ve worked for generations, and set sail to an unknown destination, dependent on the charity of others. They are not going to enjoy living in a holding camp, particularly when there’s no hope of going home.”

  Kat nodded again. The refugees from other worlds had been given a flat choice between remaining in the camps and waiting for a chance to go home or integrating into the Commonwealth’s society. Most of them, particularly the youngsters, had chosen the latter. They barely remembered their birthplaces and, even if they had the chance to go home tomorrow, probably wouldn’t take it. The older refugees, on the other hand, clung to the past.

  “We may be able to settle them permanently on a pastoral world,” she said. Several suitable planets were within Commonwealth space, all with plenty of unoccupied land. “It won’t be the same, but . . .”

  “That’s the point,” William said. “It won’t be the same.”

  “Nothing will be,” Kat agreed. “But we will do our best for them.”

  But she knew, all too well, that their best was unlikely to be good enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As prisons went, Admiral Junayd thought, his apartment on Tyre was remarkably pleasant.

  He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he’d been surprised by the sheer level of luxury the Commonwealth was prepared to offer him. The apartment was huge, with a giant bath, an entertainment complex that allowed him to explore popular culture, and room service that brought him the finest foods and drinks. There was nothing like it on Ahura Mazda, not even for the Speakers. And to think such accommodations were commonplace on Tyre! The lowest of the low on the Commonwealth’s homeworld lived a life far beyond the imaginations of even the highest on Ahura Mazda.

  And all such luxury cost him, he reflected, was answering a few questions.

  He’d long since lost any qualms he might have about aiding the enemy. He’d quickly realized that the Theocracy’s calculations of the Commonwealth’s industrial potential were grave underestimates. The only hope for victory had been an immediate drive on Tyre and that had failed, disastrously. Junayd knew he’d been lucky to escape execution for his role in the catastrophe, even though he’d been reassigned to interior security after Second Cadiz. And then he’d taken advantage of an opportunity to defect.

  And I may have a role to play in the postwar government, he told himself as he sat and sipped his tea. The apartment came with a generous supply of alcoholic drinks, but he’d resisted the temptation to experiment. My family is back on the homeworld.

  It was a pleasant thought to pass the time, although he had to admit that he wasn’t too keen on returning to Ahura Mazda. There was nothing there for him, save for a family who could easily be brought to Tyre instead. Indeed, the Commonwealth’s intelligence officers had promised to do just that at the earliest possible moment. That, Junayd knew, would be a while. Even with his training and advice, it was unlikely the Commonwealth could slip an extraction team down to the surface without detection. Ahura Mazda was the most heavily defended world in the Theocracy. And intruders, assuming they reached the surface, would stick out like sore thumbs.

  He heard a knock on the door. Junayd rose, silently appreciating the politeness his handlers showed. Theocratic intelligence agents would have opened the door and walked straight in just to make it absolutely clear that Junayd was in their power. The Commonwealth’s ONI officers, on the other hand, saw no reason to make a fuss. They and Junayd both knew who was in charge and who had to sing for his supper.

  He opened the door and blinked in surprise as he saw Commander Janice Wilson and Lieutenant Harry Grivets standing outside. He had been astonished to discover that Janice outranked Grivets, although he’d known intellectually that women in the Commonwealth were expected to be more than just mothers, daughters, and wives. He’d been quite uncomfortable talking to her at first, which might have been the point. Talking to another man’s woman in the Theocracy was an insult at best, a challenge to a fight at worst. And the poor woman would suffer . . .

  “Admiral,” Janice said. There was an edge in her voice that bothered him. “May we come in?”

  Junayd stepped back, silently inviting them to enter. It was easier, at times, to think of Janice as just another man, despite her tight uniform. She would have been whipped on Ahura Mazda for wearing something that revealed her curves, let alone forgetting to cover her hair with a scarf. Her short brown hair, almost mannish, would have incurred further disapproval from her male relatives. A woman should not dress and act as a man.

  Things are different here, he reminded himself sternly. And you are dependent upon her.

  “Please, take a seat,” he said as he closed the door. “Can I pour either of you a drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Janice said. That was odd. Offering someone a drink was basic etiquette in the Commonwealth. And refusing it was an insult of sorts. “We just received word from the front.”

  Junayd sat facing them. “What happened?”

  “Two weeks ago, we dispatched a task force to liberate Hebrides,” Janice said. “The two squadrons of superdreadnoughts defending the planet were rapidly smashed, allowing us to land ground forces. However, as we were advancing on the PDCs, the defenders detonated a number of very dirty nuclear bombs. The planet is now heading rapidly towards complete disaster.”

  Junayd felt a chill running down his spine. “They wouldn’t.”

  “They did,” Grivets said sharply. “Millions of people have already been confirmed dead.”

  They can’t have, Junayd thought, stunned. They can’t have.

  But Janice wouldn’t lie to him. She had no motive to lie. And that meant . . .

  His head swam. Mass slaughter was sinful. Even the Inquisitors understood that mass slaughter only ensured that countless souls, souls who had never heard of the True Faith, were doomed to burn in eternal hellfire. Bombarding planetary targets and killing those who resisted was one thing, but slaughtering an entire planet’s population? Unthinkable, utterly unthinkable.
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  But it had happened.

  He swallowed, hard. “What are you going to do?”

  “That has not yet been decided,” Janice said. Her lips thinned. “And my invitation to the high-level planning sessions went missing.”

  Junayd wasn’t sure if that was a weak joke or not, so he chose to ignore it. “They’ve gone mad.”

  Grivets leaned forward. He’d never seemed to like Junayd, although Junayd wasn’t sure if the man’s dislike was professional disdain for a defector or anger over a relative who’d been killed in the fighting. Or maybe Grivets’s job was to act as though he didn’t like Junayd, to force him to take steps to prove himself. Junayd, in all honesty, didn’t care.

  “You were privy to their planning sessions,” Grivets growled. “Was this ever discussed?”

  “No,” Junayd said flatly. “It would have been rejected out of hand.”

  “If that’s true,” Janice said, “what’s changed?”

  Junayd contemplated the problem for a long moment. The Theocracy had always rested on a knife-edge between the hardline extremists and those who took a more flexible view of the universe, although the Commonwealth would have happily classified both sides as extremists. One simply did not rise in the Theocracy without a constant and public show of devotion to the True Faith. Even the “liberals” in government were terrifyingly aggressive by the Commonwealth’s standards. None of them would have accepted Janice’s dress without screaming for her to be publicly flogged.

  “The extremists might have finally gained control of the government,” he said. Such a feat wasn’t too likely, but losing so many ships over the past year might have upset some of the undecided Speakers. Or the extremists might have managed to launch a coup. “Or they may simply be desperate.”