Desperate Fire (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  William nodded. “With your permission, I’ll go find Fran before returning to Thunderchild,” he said. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

  “Of course,” Kat said. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

  She rose and gave William a hug, feeling the tension in his body. No wonder he’d been drinking, although she hoped he was smart enough to take a sober-up pill before going on duty. Commander Roach otherwise would have to relieve William of his command, something that would probably end with both men in front of a court-martial. William would definitely lose his command, but Roach would probably lose all chance of a command of his own too. The Admiralty tended to frown on commanding officers being relieved by their subordinates.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Pat said once William had stepped through the hatch. “The rumor mill is full of nonsense.”

  Kat nodded, although she couldn’t help feeling annoyed. She’d heard plenty of absurd stories passed on so many times that the grain of truth was buried under a mountain of bullshit. But a rumor that could cause damage to her career was a serious matter. She couldn’t have people genuinely thinking she was sleeping with Admiral Christian.

  Her expression darkened. Technically, the relationship wouldn’t be quite against naval regulations. Technically. She might have been one of his subordinate commanders, but she wasn’t under his direct command. And yet, she would have a major problem if Admiral Christian’s other subordinates believed he was showing her favoritism. It didn’t help that her career had already benefited from favoritism.

  “I flew into a pirate lair, seemingly alone,” she muttered. “And they still believe I didn’t earn my rank.”

  “I think that most people got the message after you planned the escape from Cadiz,” Pat said sardonically. He rose and walked over to stand next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Captain Higgins hasn’t given you any problems, has she?”

  Kat shook her head. Fran Higgins had been XO on HMS Defiant back before the desperate flight from Cadiz. She’d risked court-martial by siding with Kat and William, knowing that Admiral Morrison would disapprove of any preparations to abandon the system. Thankfully, she’d been cleared of any plans to mutiny as the post-battle assessment uncovered just how badly Admiral Morrison had failed the Royal Navy. And she’d stayed in command of Defiant until she’d been transferred to Queen Elizabeth.

  And she’s still in command of her own ship, Kat thought. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy. I won’t be a commander ever again.

  Kat took Pat’s arm and pulled him through the hatch into the bedroom. Lucy would clear up the mess, then put out coffee for the following morning. Pat seemed to move slowly, as if he were tired and depressed. Kat couldn’t really blame him.

  “Pat,” she said quietly. “How bad is it down there?”

  “Nightmarish,” Pat said. “There just aren’t enough accommodations for everyone, Kat. That’s the blunt truth. The refugees are sharing bunks designed for one person, privacy is a joke, we’ve already had a couple of near-riots because of the water and food shortages. And it’s only going to get worse.”

  “I know,” Kat said. “The staffers down there are doing everything they can.” She sat down on the bed. “I wish there was something more we could do,” she added, “but what?”

  “You’re planning a major offensive,” Pat said. He looked down at her. “We’re going straight for Ahura Mazda, aren’t we?”

  Kat hesitated. She wasn’t supposed to talk about Operation Hammer with anyone outside the planning cell, but Pat knew her well enough to tell if she was lying to him. Hell, merely hesitating had probably been enough to confirm that he was right. And she didn’t want to lie to him.

  “Yes,” she said. She looked back at him. “That isn’t going any further, understand?”

  “Yeah,” Pat said.

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, silently cursing the Theocracy. What had happened to the marine who’d never hesitated to take her to bed whenever they could both find the time? The atrocity on Hebrides had stolen him, leaving a stranger with his face standing in front of her. She’d seen war take a toll on men and women before, leaving them torn and broken, but this was different. Pat had never been afraid to risk his life, yet watching hundreds of thousands of people forced to flee their homes had damaged him.

  “No one is meant to know, not yet,” she said. “How did you figure it out?”

  Pat smiled, humorlessly. “General Winters is calling in troops from all over the sector,” he said. “Training programs for forced landing and urban combat are being shoved into gear. I think every last marine in the sector will be here in a couple of weeks. That’s a hell of a lot of troops to liberate a world, which suggested that we had a bigger target in mind. And Ahura Mazda itself is top of the short list.”

  He sat down next to her, looking oddly out of place. “I want to take the lead,” he said. “I want to be in the first shuttle heading down to the surface.”

  Kat frowned. “General Winters will have to authorize it,” she said. “But you’re one of the most experienced officers in the corps.”

  She contemplated the problem for a long moment. It wouldn’t be difficult to pull strings on his behalf. Admiral Christian would certainly listen to her. And General Winters would recognize that Pat had the skills and experience needed. But sending him into the fire wasn’t something she wanted to do. She wanted to keep him safe.

  But there’s no safety in the military, she thought. She’d put her life at risk countless times, but the marines had it worse. Pat had never had a million-ton starship wrapped around him when he’d closed with the enemy. And he needs to get to grips with the bastards.

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  She turned her head and kissed him, hard. For a moment, he didn’t respond . . . and then he kissed her back, as if something had suddenly been unleashed. He pushed her down on the bed and rolled over until he was on top of her, his lips hovering just over hers. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down for another kiss. His tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, teasing her as his hands pulled her shirt out of her belt and ran up to caress her breasts.

  Afterwards, Kat held Pat tightly as he slept, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and concern. His behavior was odd, worryingly odd. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it. She knew all too well that his problems were something he had to work through on his own, that he wouldn’t appreciate any help she might have offered.

  And he wants to lead the landing party, she thought. He needs to lead the landing party.

  She must have dozed off because the next thing she heard was an urgent beeping from the intercom. Pat had shifted in his sleep, one leg resting on top of her; she pushed it away and sat upright, keying the intercom sharply.

  “Commodore,” Wheeler said. He sounded reassuringly alert, even though a glance at her timer told her it was only 0702. “Admiral Christian requests your presence onboard Hammerhead. There have been developments.”

  Kat’s lips thinned. “Developments?”

  “That’s what he said, Commodore,” Wheeler said.

  “Have my shuttle prepared,” Kat said. She stood, hearing Pat sit upright behind her. “I’ll be with him as soon as possible.”

  She glanced at Pat. “Duty calls,” she said. Pat could stay in the suite as long as he wanted, at least until he had to go on duty himself. “Try and make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Pat said. He sounded more like his old self. She felt a flicker of amusement. Perhaps she should have just dragged him into bed instead of letting him get depressed. There were sex workers on Tyre who claimed that getting laid did wonders for one’s morale. “Try not to let the rumors get to you.”

  “I’ll try,” Kat said. She grinned as he stood, remembering their night together. “And you know what? I’ll succeed.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The giant aud
itorium on the orbital battlestation was easily large enough to hold every commanding officer attached to the fleet, Kat decided, as she followed Admiral Christian into the massive compartment. By tradition, every captain and commodore should have attended in person, but a good third of them had been ordered to remain on their ships, just in case the Theocracy picked exactly the wrong moment to launch an attack. It was unlikely that the enemy would risk an attack, yet it was better to be paranoid than dead.

  She sucked in her breath as she saw the assembled rows of captains, then hurried down to take her place in the front row. Sixth Fleet had been the most powerful formation in the Royal Navy even before the reinforcements had arrived; now, she was the single most powerful fleet in space by a very large margin. She represented such a concentration of military power that her ultimate success seemed assured, no matter what obstacles the enemy might throw in her way. And Admiral Christian, her commanding officer, was one of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

  Not that running the fleet is easy, Kat thought ruefully. Squadron command could be tricky at times; she had to issue orders while carefully not stepping on toes. The line between a commodore’s responsibilities and a captain’s could not be crossed. As admiral of them all, Christian has all the problems I have and then some.

  She sat, knowing the burden of command was a great deal heavier for her Theocratic counterparts. She could hardly imagine serving as a captain with a religious busybody peering over her shoulder, questioning each and every order she gave . . . not that she’d have had the chance if she’d been born into the Theocracy. Princess Drusilla’s debriefings had made that quite clear. In the Theocracy, aristocratic women were suitable for nothing more than marriage alliances, used to link various families together. They didn’t get to say no. Princess Drusilla had been astonishingly lucky to escape, so lucky that some intelligence officers suspected a scam. But Kat had seen enough of the enemy’s thinking to know that questioning orders, particularly orders from their leadership, was not recommended. A person with nerve could go a very long way just by citing nonexistent orders from the very top.

  “Thank you for coming,” Admiral Christian said as he took his place at the stand. The hatches closed and locked, sealing the compartment. Anyone who was late wouldn’t be able to enter. “I don’t think I need to mention that everything discussed in this meeting is to remain strictly confidential, but regulations require me to remind you anyway.”

  A low ripple of amusement ran through the chamber. Kat smiled, remembering just how many copies of the same security agreements and understandings she’d had to sign as she climbed her way towards her first command. ONI harped on security, reminding officers time and time again that loose lips sank ships. And they were right, she knew. A careless word in the wrong place could prove disastrous.

  “As of now, McCaughey Naval Base is going into lockdown,” Admiral Christian bluntly continued. “All messages intended to go out-system will be held in communications buffers, unless cleared by my intelligence staff. Messages flowing into the system will be distributed as normal, but replies—of course—may be delayed.”

  Kat made a face. That wasn’t going to be popular. Spacers understood that communications could often be delayed, but her crews had grown used to sending recorded messages back home via StarCom. Relationships were going to be damaged, even though families should understand the realities of a naval career. She’d had to comfort a number of young officers back when she’d been an XO, either reminding them of the practicalities or consoling them after they’d received a “Dear John” letter. There had been times when she’d honestly thought that everyone who sent such a letter should be tried for treason. The missives always sent morale plummeting.

  Of course they did, she thought sardonically. Watching a crewmate receive a good-bye letter only reminded others that they too could receive such a letter.

  She sat upright as a giant star chart appeared, floating over Admiral Christian’s head like a halo. Another murmur ran through the compartment as the officers took in the tactical outline, giant red arrows leading through the Gap and stabbing straight towards Ahura Mazda. Smaller arrows followed the main body through the Gap, but broke off immediately afterwards, heading in all directions. Clearly, every system possessing a StarCom was marked down for attention.

  “Operation Hammer,” Admiral Christian said. “The operation that will make or break this war.”

  He nodded to an aide standing before the front row. “Suzy?”

  Suzy—a lieutenant commander, Kat noted—didn’t seem too intimidated at being the most junior officer in the room. She took Admiral Christian’s place and adjusted the display, focusing on the hundreds of tactical icons surrounding McCaughey. Fifteen squadrons of superdreadnoughts, with more on the way; three hundred and seventy smaller ships, ranging from battlecruisers to destroyers and troop transports. It was an impressive sight. Intellectually, Kat had known that, but seeing the entire fleet lined up brought its magnitude home to her.

  “Operation Hammer is broken into four successive stages,” Suzy said. Her voice was calm, very composed. The map updated as she spoke. “First, we will clear the minefields and punch through the Gap. Second, once we are in enemy space, smaller squadrons will be detached to attack and destroy the enemy’s remaining StarComs while the remainder of the fleet advances on Ahura Mazda. Third, the space-based defenses of Ahura Mazda, including its mobile units, will be destroyed. Fourth, and finally, ground forces will be landed to secure and occupy the planet itself.”

  She paused. “A rational foe would surrender immediately after losing control of the high orbitals,” she continued. “We cannot, however, count on the Theocracy doing anything of the sort. They may believe, somehow, that there is still a hope of final victory. Therefore, our landing elements include enough troops to take and hold territory on the ground, with or without orbital fire support.”

  Kat sucked in her breath. The Commonwealth had a great deal of experience with counterinsurgency deployments, but a full-scale planetary invasion? Historically, there had never been a full-scale invasion, not when orbital fire support ensured that any mobile enemy formations could be effortlessly smashed. The landings on Hebrides had been the closest the Commonwealth had come to a full-scale invasion, and they had ended badly.

  But the Theocrats wouldn’t be mad enough to blow up their own homeworld, she told herself. Would they?

  “We will, of course, attempt to convince them to surrender,” Suzy said. “Surrender terms have already been worked out that will give the bad guys something, even as they ensure that the Theocracy will never be a threat to us or anyone else again. But we have to proceed on the assumption that they will not surrender, that they will never surrender until we have occupied every last square inch of their homeworld and captured or killed their leadership.”

  She took a breath. “Deployment orders are as follows . . .”

  Kat leaned back in her chair as Suzy worked her way through the disparate squadrons and assigned them to task forces within the giant fleet. A number of commanding officers were looking pleased at the prospect of independent commands, even if they did have strict orders merely to destroy the enemy’s StarComs and then break contact. Shattering the enemy’s communications network was a risk, if only because the Commonwealth had no way to know what contingency plans the enemy might have drawn up, but there was no choice. One way or the other, the Theocracy was going down.

  “The fleet train will consist of over a thousand transports of various classes,” Suzy concluded. “Chief among them will be a trio of mobile StarCom units.”

  A low rustle ran through the compartment. Kat had to smile, knowing how she’d reacted when she’d heard the news. It was interesting to know that the Commonwealth had taken the concept and actually made it work, after she’d captured the first mobile StarCom unit from the Theocracy. Yet the announcement wasn’t entirely good news. Being able to update Tyre constantly, in real time, about the progress of the
campaign was one thing, but having Tyre constantly micromanaging was quite another. Admiral Christian might be the last admiral to enjoy a truly independent command.

  And then the king and his cabinet will feel they can start issuing orders directly to the ships, she thought numbly. Who knows what will happen then?

  “Their bandwidth does not, as yet, allow for real-time conversations,” Suzy said. “As a general rule, their capacity for sending messages is roughly comparable to a Type-I StarCom unit. The engineers keep promising that they can improve and update the systems, but as yet they have produced no workable tech.”

  Which might be for the best, Kat thought. But someone can micromanage through emails too.

  Admiral Christian nodded as Suzy finished her presentation. “Thank you,” he said. “Are there any questions before we proceed?”

  No one said a word. Kat wasn’t too surprised. They’d need time to digest what they’d heard before they started asking questions. The planning cell had done its best to address all the potential problems, but she doubted they’d found all of them. Some problems would only become apparent, she knew from experience, when they actually took the fleet to war.

  Even flying so many ships in formation will be tricky, she thought. And we will be very detectable as we fly through the Gap.

  She looked up at the star chart, remembering long patrols before the storm finally broke over Cadiz. The whims of hyperspace had created two semipermanent energy storms between the Commonwealth and the Theocracy, forcing all starships intent on crossing from one to the other to pass through the Gap, the lone passage through the storms. The route wasn’t nearly as bad as trying to slip past the Seven Sisters, but it was one of the few places in hyperspace that could be solidly mined. The Theocracy hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of the opportunity to block the shortest passage into their territory.