Free Sample - The Oncoming Storm (Angel in the Whirlwind I)

Cover Blurb

In the year 2420, war looms between the galaxy’s two most powerful empires: the tyrannical Theocracy and the protectionist Commonwealth. Caught in the middle sits the occupied outpost system Cadiz, where young officer and aristocrat Katherine “Kat” Falcone finds herself prematurely promoted at the behest of her powerful father. Against her own wishes—Kat is sent to command the Commonwealth navy’s newest warship, Lightning. 

Determined to prove she has value beyond her family name, Kat struggles to earn her crew’s respect and find her footing as the youngest captain in naval history. She soon discovers the situation on Cadiz is even worse than anyone in power anticipated. War isn’t just a possibility—it is imminent. Yet the admiral in position to bolster defenses refuses to prepare for a fight. Can Kat find a way to investigate the enemy, alert the Commonwealth, and whip an entire fleet into fighting shape before the Theocracy’s war machine destroys everything she holds dear?

Prologue

Admiral Junayd passed through the security field and stepped into the conference room, careful to remove his cap as he bowed to the First Speaker and the Lord Cleric.  They nodded in return, pressing their hands together in greeting, then motioned him to a chair at the round table.  Junayd sat down and composed himself, despite the growing excitement running through his mind.  The greatest military operation in the Theocracy’s history was about to begin.  It was no time to allow his enthusiasm to overpower his common sense.

He looked up at the giant painting behind the First Speaker.  Hundreds of men and women, some bound, others in chains, were making their way towards a giant starship, sitting on the ground like a common aircraft.  It was a lie, he knew, a fanciful depiction of a carefully-planned exodus from Earth, but the essential truth shone through.  The Believers had been forced into exile, forced to leave God’s chosen world.  Many of the exiles had lost the will to live in horror at what had been done to them.

But others had understood.  God would not have allowed His faithful to be removed from their homeworld without a reason.  It would be safer for them to be elsewhere.  And now Earth was scorched rubble, the great cities of Rome, Jerusalem and Mecca little more than blackened marks on a dead world.  The religious leaders who had failed to realize their time was over were gone.  And the United Nations, the force that had served as their enforcer, was gone too.  The True Faith could begin its expansion into the galaxy – and no infidels would stand in their way.

He nodded in greeting as Inquisitor Samuilu stepped into the room, unable to avoid feeling a cold shiver running down his back as he met the man’s eyes.  Everyone was secretly guilty of something the Inquisitors believed, and innocence was no defense if one caught their ever-roaming eye.  Even a high-ranking admiral was not immune to suspicion.  The Inquisitors spent most of their time rooting out heresy on the occupied worlds, but they had never relaxed their watch over the Believers.

And a word from them would be enough to condemn anyone to the stocks – or the gallows.

“Let us begin,” the First Speaker said.

He spoke the words of a very old prayer, echoed by the other three men in the room, then looked up at Junayd.  “Admiral,” he said.  “How fares our planning?”

Junayd took a long breath.  “We will be ready to launch the offensive in six months, Your Holiness,” he began.  “Planning has been completed for a short, sharp campaign that will bring the infidel Commonwealth to its knees.  We will trap and destroy their border fleets, then advance towards their homeworlds before they know what has hit them.  Victory will be assured.”

“Only God can assure one of victory,” the Lord Cleric said.

That, Junayd knew, was true.  Other religions, the shadows of the True Faith, had believed that God granted victory to his followers without forcing them to work for it.  But the True Believers knew that God only helped those who helped themselves.  What was the point of victory – or redemption – if it was just handed out on silver platters?  But he dared not seem uncertain, not now.  There were no shortage of others who would take his place if he ran afoul of his superiors.

“We have been watching their deployments to Cadiz ever since they annexed the border world,” he said, instead.  “Their readiness levels are at the lowest we have observed since we started monitoring them closely.  The admiral in command spends most of his time on the planet, training and exercising schedules are not followed and morale is incredibly low.  We would not wish to wait long enough for the Commonwealth to appoint an effective commander to take Admiral Morrison’s place.”

The First Speaker smirked.  “That would be inconvenient,” he agreed.

“We have allies on the planet’s surface,” Junayd continued.  “They will be ready to go on the offensive when our fleet arrives in the system.  Cadiz will be cut off from the StarCom network, her command and control systems crippled, allowing us to score a decisive victory before the infidels can mobilize.  Their long-term potential is staggering.”

He kept his face impassive, refusing to admit how much that bothered him.  The first conquests made by the Theocracy had been easy.  They’d largely been primitive worlds, with no spacefaring capability at all.  It had taken little more than a destroyer to crush formal resistance, then the Inquisitors had gone to work, digging out all who would dare to resist their place in the Theocracy.  But the Commonwealth was different.  It was a multi-system political entity with a growing trading fleet as well as a formidable military machine.  

The Theocracy’s industrial base was geared to supporting the colossal war machine they intended to use to conquer the settled galaxy.  It was limited, more limited than Junayd cared to admit, but they would never be able to relax some of the restrictions on economic and social development.  It would have given people ideas.  But the Commonwealth didn't have that problem.  Somehow, the infidels had created an economy that was growing by leaps and bounds.  It presented a formidable threat as well as a challenge.

And it wasn't the only state to emerge from the ashes left by the Breakaway Wars.  It was quite possible that the Commonwealth and the Theocracy could batter each other to pieces, then watch helplessly as another state moved in and took over.  Or, for that matter, that the other states would block expansion of the True Faith.  It could not be allowed.

“But nothing compared to ours,” the Lord Cleric said.

The First Speaker smiled.  “Six months,” he mused.  “Can you not attack earlier?”

“We would need to call up freighters to support the military offensive,” Junayd said.  “It will take several months to assemble them without damaging our economy too far.”

He paused.  “Besides, we would also need to place our forces in position on our side of the border,” he added.  “And then place our agents in the right places to do harm.”

The First Speaker looked at the Lord Cleric, who nodded.

“You have permission to start assembling our forces,” the First Speaker said, firmly.  “And may God defend the right.”

“I thank you,” Junayd said.  He stood, placing his hand on his heart.  “And I pledge to you, Your Holiness, that the Commonwealth will be ours within a year.”

Chapter One

“The Hotel Magnificent, My Lady,” the shuttle pilot said.  “I’ll drop down on the roof?”

“Yes, please,” Captain Lady Katherine Falcone said.  She felt a tingle from her implants as security scanners swept the shuttle, confirming her presence.  “I believe they should already have cleared us to land.”

She looked down as the shuttle dropped towards the landing pad.  It had been four years since she’d seen Tyre City from the air, but it never failed to impress.  The designers had covered everything, from the Royal Palace to the military barracks and giant apartment blocks, in white marble, creating a glittering haze as aircars and shuttles flew overhead.  Only the brooding presence of the giant planetary defense center, carved into a nearby mountain, spoilt the impression of a city out of fantasy.  But then, the Kings of Tyre had had the money to make their fantasies reality.

The shuttle touched down gently, allowing Kat to stand up and make her way through the hatch and out into the warm morning air.  A pair of bodyguards stood there, their faces hidden behind black masks; her implants reported that she was being scanned, again, before they stepped aside and allowed her to walk through the door into the hotel.  She sighed inwardly as they followed her, even though they knew who she was.  It was the paranoia of living in a goldfish bowl, among many other things, that had caused her to seek out her own career, as far from her family as possible.

She caught sight of her own reflection in a mirrored door before it opened and tried not to wince.  Her family had the very best enhancements sequences into their genes, ensuring that she had an estimated lifespan of over two hundred years, but she looked young, as if she was barely out of her teens.  The long blonde hair she had refused to cut, despite years on various starships, fell around her heart-shaped face, drawing attention from everyone who looked at her.  The black uniform she wore, complete with the golden star on her shoulder that designated starship command, fitted her perfectly.  But then, her body was perfect too.

At least I’m not Candy, she thought, thankfully.  Her older sister spent most of her life aping fashion, even to the point of changing her body or gender completely, just to fit in with her friends.  But I could have turned out just like her.

“My Lady,” a voice said.

Kat looked up to see a thin dark-skinned girl wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination.  She sighed.  One would have thought that the Hotel Magnificent could have dressed its maids and other staff in something more classy rather than a dress that wouldn't have been out of place in a pornographic VR sim.  But she supposed the vast majority of the visitors probably appreciated the dresses.  Besides, it was easy to underestimate someone who looked so harmless.

“Your father is waiting for you in the dining room,” the maid said.  She curtseyed.  “If you would care to accompany me ...”

“Of course,” Kat said.  Why would her father have chosen to meet her in the dining room?  “I would be honored.”

She saw the answer as soon as the maid led her into the giant room.  It was immense, large enough for nearly fifty tables ... and they were all completely empty, save one.  Kat felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and shame as she saw her father, realizing that he’d spent millions of crowns merely to hire the room and ensure that everyone else who might have had a reservation was paid off.  It was a display of power that she couldn't help but feel was a little vulgar.  But one truth she’d learned as a child was that if you were rich enough, it didn't matter what sort of person you were.  Everyone would want to be your friend.

Her father, Duke Lucas Falcone, rose to his feet as she approached.  He was a tall man, his hair starting to go grey after years of serving as CEO of the Falcone Consortium.  Kat didn't envy him his position, even though she knew there was almost no chance of her inheriting anything more than a trust account and some stocks and shares.  She’d seen enough of how her older siblings were prepared to take his place to know she didn't want it for herself.

“Father,” she said, carefully.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“I was in the city,” her father said, gravely.  “It was no hassle to see my youngest daughter.”

He motioned for Kat to take a seat, then sat down facing her.  Two maids appeared, as if from nowhere, each one carrying a menu in her delicate hands.  Kat took one and placed it on the table, rolling her eyes at the sheer assortment of cutlery and glasses in front of her.  The knives and forks alone could have fed a poorer family for several weeks.

“Please tell me you don’t roll your eyes like a teenager on your command deck,” her father said, tiredly.  “I don’t think your crew would be very impressed.”

Kat felt her face heat.  She was twenty-nine years old and he still made her feel like a child the few times they met in person.  He’d rarely had time for her or any of her nine siblings when they’d been children, leaving them in the care of the household staff.  There were times when she understood precisely why Candy was intent on blowing through her trust fund as rapidly as possible.  She wanted attention from her parents – and they’d only really paid attention when she’d done something shocking or scandalous.  Kat had felt the same way as she’d grown into adulthood.  But she’d joined the Navy instead of becoming a trust fund brat.

“I imagine they wouldn't be,” she said, tartly.  “I need to talk to you.”

“Order your food first,” her father advised.  “This place does an excellent caviar and chutney ...”

“Fish and chips, please,” Kat said to the maid.  Her father looked impassive, but she knew him well enough to tell he’d probably swallowed a disparaging comment.  Fish and chips was a plebeian dish and they both knew it.  “And a glass of water.”

Her father ordered – something both expensive and unpronounceable – and then waited for the maids to leave before leaning forward to face her.  “You wanted to talk to me,” he said, flatly.  “Talk.”

“I have been promoted to command a heavy cruiser,” Kat said, tapping the golden badge on her shoulder.  “What did you have to do with my promotion?”

“Congratulations would seem to be in order,” her father mused.  “Perhaps champagne ...”

“Father!” Kat snapped.

She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down.  “I am too young and inexperienced to take command of a heavy cruiser,” she said.  “And there were at least forty other officers, some with previous command experience, ahead of me.  I should not have been placed in command.”

Her father smiled.  “You doubt your own abilities?  What happened to the girl who broke her arm climbing up the trees on the estate?”

Kat met his eyes, willing him to understand just how serious this was.  “I should not have been offered command,” she said.  “Why did you pull strings to ensure I received the ship?”

“Because it was necessary,” her father said.

“Necessary?”  Kat repeated.

“Command of a heavy cruiser at such a young age,” her father mused.  “It will look good on your service record, won’t it?”

Kat stared at him, angrily.  She’d been haunted by the Falcone name ever since she’d been old enough to realize that not everyone lived in a vast estate, nor had almost everything they desired as soon as they desired it.  Going into the Royal Tyre Navy had seemed like a chance to escape her name, to earn fame and promotion on her own merits.   But she was still haunted by her family’s name ...

“Every single officer in the service will know you ensured I would get command,” she said, finally.  “I will never be taken seriously again.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” her father said, after a long moment, “but wasn't it you who was decorated for heroism when raiders attacked your ship?”

“It won’t matter,” Kat said.  “I did well at Piker’s Peak – and I didn't come first – but this is going to stink like limburger.”

Her father smiled.  “You could always decline the command.”

“You know I can't do that,” Kat snapped.  Declining promotion was technically permitted, within regulations, but it ensured that promotion would never be offered again.  Her father should have understood ... or perhaps he didn't.  The corporate world was nothing like the military, no matter what management fads said.  “Father ...”

Her father, oddly, reached out and placed his hand on top of hers.  It was a curiously intimate gesture from someone who had always been very reserved when he'd bothered to pay attention to her at all.  The last time they’d spoken alone had been just after Kat had applied to join the Navy.  He’d seen it, perhaps, as a cry for attention rather than a serious attempt to escape the family name.

“I understand how you feel,” he said, softly.  “But I also know that the family needs you.”

Kat felt her temper flare.  “What do I owe the family?”

“Your life,” her father said.  He ticked points off on his fingers as he spoke.  “Your expensive education.  Your exclusive implants.  Your looks and genetic legacy.  And the safety bubble that protected you as you grew into adulthood.”

He paused.  “And are you going to keep acting like a teenager?”

Kat felt her face heat.  What was it about her father that made her act like a child?

“There were reasons for my decision,” he said when Kat said nothing.  “And, if you will listen, I will enlighten you.”

He paused as the maids returned, carrying two large plates of food.  Kat wasn't surprised to see that the chef had done his best to make the fish and chips look expensive rather than the greasy food she remembered from the cafe near Piker’s Peak.  The senior cadets had gone there on weekend passes, just for the pleasure of eating something that wasn't Navy rations while having a drink or two with friends.  And then most of the young men had headed to the brothel.

“Your ship is being assigned to Cadiz,” her father said, once they’d eaten enough to satisfy the hunger pangs.  “And I have some reason to believe the situation is dire.”

Kat leaned forward, puzzled.  “Father?”

“I haven’t been able to find much hard evidence,” her father confessed.  “Even me, even with my connections; there’s little evidence to find.  But there are alarming whispers coming out of Cadiz Naval Base, while some of my ... operations on Cadiz itself have been disrupted by the insurgency.  And then there’s the decision to appoint Admiral Morrison to command the 7th Fleet.  Do you know him?”

“No,” Kat said.  It wasn't as if admirals made a habit of socializing with lesser beings, even those who happened to have aristocratic families.  She made a mental note to read his file – the parts of it she could access, at any rate – as soon as possible.  “I’ve never even heard of him.”

“Probably for the best,” her father said.  “Admiral Morrison was a compromise choice, Katherine.  The Hawks wanted someone more ... aggressive; the Doves wanted something who wasn’t inclined to make waves.  Morrison seemed the best of a bad bunch.  But, with war looming, choosing him to command the fleet might have been a deadly mistake.”

Kat nodded.  Everyone knew war was coming.  Ever since the Commonwealth had encountered the Theocracy – and the first refugees had started streaming across the border – everyone had known that there would be war.  Everyone ... apart from a number of politicians who believed the galaxy was big enough for both the Commonwealth and the Theocracy.  It sounded idiotic.  Nothing anyone had seen had suggested the Theocracy was interested in peace.

“Local politics,” her father said, when Kat voiced her thoughts.  “The Opposition feels that the King and his loyalists pushed the Cadiz Annexation through on false pretenses.  They’re not inclined to pay much heed to suggestions that storm clouds are gathering on the horizon when Cadiz was such a costly disaster.  But right now, their refusal to admit there may be war looming is costing us badly.”

He took a breath, then sighed.  “Admiral Morrison’s position is almost impossible to assault right now,” he added, grimly.  “We need hard evidence to propose to the Privy Council that the Inspectorate General be ordered to inspect Cadiz.  But the only way to get that hard evidence is to send in the IG.  Which we can't do without due cause ...”

“Or a report from me,” Kat said.  “That’s what you want, isn't it?”

“Among other things,” her father said.  “I believe you will have ample opportunity to observe Admiral Morrison at close range.”

Kat didn't bother to hide her distaste.  Naval tradition insisted that officers were not meant to criticize other officers to civilians, let alone spy on them.  There was no shortage of officers who had been promoted through serving as someone’s eyes and ears within the service, but she had never wanted to be one of them.  The fact she’d been promoted so rapidly, she realized numbly, would convince a great many officers that that was precisely what she was.

“It gets worse,” her father said.  He didn't bother with insincere condolences.  “Are you aware that there’s been an upswing in raider activity over the past four months?”

“No,” Kat said, alarmed.  “It’s been covered up?”

“More or less,” her father said.  “Most of the media is owned by the big family corporations and none of them are eager to do anything that might drive confidence down and insurance rates up.  Proportionally, losses are a small fraction of our overall merchant marine, but it’s rapidly growing to alarming proportions.  I believe the Admiralty is already assigning starships to serve as convoy escorts.”

“Which reduces the number of hulls available for border patrol and screening duties,” Kat said, slowly.  “I’d bet that isn't a coincidence.”

“Me neither,” her father said.  “Raiders have been a problem since the Breakaway Wars, but this is on a considerably greater scale.”

He took a breath.  “And then there’s trade with the Theocracy itself,” he added.  “They’ve layered whole new security precautions on our ships entering their space.”

Kat gave him a sharp look.  “You’re trading with the enemy?”

“Certain ... factions within the Houses of Parliament believe that trade will eventually cause the Theocracy to moderate its territorial expansion and concentrate on economic growth,” her father said.  “Others think it’s a good chance to gather intelligence.  And still others believe that trade will convince the Theocracy that they don’t have to be scared of us – and our expansion.”

Kat couldn't help herself.  She snorted.

“They’re politicians,” her father pointed out, dryly.  “A good grip on reality isn't part of the job description.”

He shrugged.  “Quite a few voters think the bastards have a point, though,” he added.  “If the Theocracy had been the ones to grab Cadiz, instead of us, wouldn't we be worried about what they would do with it?”

Kat considered it, reluctantly.  She didn't want to admit it, but the politicians did have a point.  The Commonwealth had expanded peacefully until Cadiz, when they’d annexed a world by force, even if they did have the best of intentions.  It would be better for the locals to be part of the Commonwealth rather than the Theocracy, but it had cost the Commonwealth a great deal of goodwill among the other independent worlds.  And was it worth it?  By almost any measure, Cadiz was a net drain on the Commonwealth’s resources.

Her father cleared his throat.  “In any case, our crews have been completely isolated while their ships have been in Theocratic space,” he said.  “It doesn't bode well for the future.”

“I see,” Kat said.

“So we need you out there to report back to us,” her father said.  “We need an accurate report of just what is going on.”

“Yes, sir,” Kat said.  “But if I see evidence that you’re wrong, I won’t hesitate to bring it to your attention.”

Her father nodded, then reached into his pocket and retrieved a Secure Storage Datachip, which he dropped on the table in front of her.  “There’s a contact code here that will allow you to access the StarCom,” he said, “along with a number of personnel files and other pieces of information you might need.  You should review it on your flight to Cadiz.”

Kat nodded, wordlessly.

“Tell me,” her father said, straightening up, “how is your relationship with Davidson?”

Kat felt her face turn bright red.  One of the other reasons she’d been so quick to abandon her family estate was the simple lack of privacy.  Everyone knew what she was doing almost all the time.  She knew, just from listening to Candy’s complaints, that the family security division vetted all of her friends and romantic entanglements, making sure that none of them posed any danger to the clan.  There was no privacy at Piker’s Peak either, but at least everyone was in the same boat.

“We’re just friends,” she said, tartly.  She shouldn't be surprised her father knew.  They’d been lovers, once upon a time, but the call of duty had separated them, and so they’d parted platonically.  “Why?”

“I’m having him assigned to your ship too,” her father said.  “If you need support, it will be good to have a Marine you can trust behind you.”

“Thank you,” Kat said, icily.  “And are you going to be making any other decisions for me today?”

“No,” her father said.

He looked up, meeting her eyes.  “I’d like to believe I’m wrong,” he admitted.  “Wars are chancy things, as you would know better than I.  But I don’t think I’m wrong.  And if the Theocracy does come over the border ... you might have a chance to prove you belong in a command chair sooner than you might think.”

Kat shivered.

Chapter Two

“She’s a child,” Commander William McElney muttered.

Manfully, he resisted the temptation to throw the datapad across the compartment and into the bulkhead.  It was a military-grade machine, capable of surviving an astonishing amount of abuse, but it still would have felt very satisfactory to try and smash it.  Angrily, he pushed the impulse aside and reread the official notification for the second time.  HMS Lightning had finally been assigned a commanding officer.  And it wasn't him.

William clenched his teeth, then forced himself to relax.  He’d hoped that he’d be appointed commander of Lightning, but he’d known it wasn't likely to happen.  He hadn't been born on Tyre, after all, nor had he been born after Hebrides – his homeworld – had entered the Commonwealth.  Someone like him would always lose out to a citizen of Tyre, even though the Navy’s rapid expansion was opening up all kinds of possibilities for someone born away from the capital and founder world.  But discovering that his prospective CO was nothing more than a child ...

He glowered down at the terminal, then keyed his access code into the device, accessing the naval datanet.  Officially, he only had access to the bare bones of his new commander’s file, but he’d been in the Navy long enough to learn a few tricks.  Accessing the complete file – the one that would have been available to a captain or commodore – was relatively simple; indeed, he’d never understood why the Admiralty set out to classify such data in the first place.  But it wasn't reassuring.

There was no aristocracy on Hebrides – or, at least, there hadn't been one until the Commonwealth had arrived.  The planet had simply been too poor to support a ruling class, no matter the pretensions of some of the elected leaders.  But he was familiar with the concept – he had thirty years in the Navy – and now, looking down at the file, he understood how his new commander had received her command.  She was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Commonwealth, a man so staggeringly wealthy that he could buy an entire superdreadnaught squadron out of pocket change.  The nasty part of his mind wondered just how many superdreadnaughts the old man had bought just to ensure his daughter got a chance to sit in a command chair.

He skimmed through the rest of the file rapidly, noting – to his alarm – that it was surprisingly thin.  Either she hadn't done anything worth mentioning or nothing had been written down – or, if it had, it had been classified well above Top Secret.  He supposed that made a certain kind of sense.  The aristocracy wouldn't be interested in having their dirty laundry aired for all to see, but they would need to know who was letting the side down or simply couldn't be trusted with any kind of real power. Kat Falcone, it seemed, wasn’t considered a potential risk to the aristocracy’s reputation.  

Captain Kat Falcone, he reminded himself, sternly.  Resentment or no resentment, he was still a professional and he was damn well going to act professionally.

Shaking his head, he switched to the planetary datanet and ran a search.  Hundreds of results popped up – it sometimes seemed the media had little better to do but report on the activities of young aristocrats – but Kat Falcone didn't seem to court scandal.  Instead, the reports merely mentioned that she’d gone to Piker’s Peak, then helped save a starship during a border tussle.  That, at least, matched with the Navy file, although neither was very informative, suggesting that some of the details had been classified.  It left an odd taste in his mouth.

A wider search revealed more about the Falcone Family and Corporation than he’d ever wanted to know.  It was one of the original Founding Corporations that had moved operations to Tyre, accounting for the planet’s considerable economic growth before the Breakaway Wars had smashed humanity’s fragile unity and created dozens of independent star systems, some on the brink of total collapse.  The Family had remained powerful through the economic crash, then played a key role in organizing the Commonwealth and building up the Royal Tyre Navy.  As aristocracies went, he had to admit, they were definitely enlightened.

So why, he asked himself, had the Duke ensured his daughter received one of the most coveted command chairs in the Navy?

He knew she wasn’t qualified.  He’d looked it up.  The youngest person to be appointed to command a heavy cruiser had been thirty-seven, eight years older than Captain Falcone.  A handful of younger officers had taken command briefly, when their commanders were disabled, but only one of them had been allowed to keep the ship.  That particular officer had been in line for a command of his own, according to the files, and the Admiralty had merely decided to leave him on the ship rather than transfer him elsewhere.  And he’d been thirty-six.

William’s wristcom bleeped.  “Yes?”

“This is Ross,” Lieutenant Linda Ross said.  Her voice was, as always, calm and professional.  “We have received a signal from groundside.  Captain Falcone is on her way.”

William gritted his teeth, unsurprised. It spoke well of her that she wanted to see her new command as soon as possible, he supposed, but Lightning was nowhere near ready to receive her.  Half of her personnel were assigned to urgent duties, while the remainder were scattered all over the ship.  The Admiralty had been dragging its feet on assigning additional crewmen to Lightning, something that irked him more than he cared to admit.  But a superdreadnaught had required urgent crew replenishments in a hurry and Lightning wasn’t scheduled to leave for another two weeks.

“Understood,” he said.

“She specifically requests no greeting party,” Lieutenant Ross added.  “And she also wants readiness files transmitted to her at once.”

William lifted an eyebrow.  He’d served under five captains since joining the Navy and some of them had been egotistical enough to demand that their senior officers stop work and greet them whenever they returned to the ship.  A greeting party was traditional, at least when the captain boarded for the first time, but it would be a headache at such short notice.  The captain’s appointment had only been confirmed nine hours ago, for crying out loud.  But it spoke well of her, too, that she didn't want a greeting party.

“Transmit the files,” he ordered.  Technically, they shouldn't be sent until after the captain had formally assumed command, but there was no point in withholding them.  It would be petty, pointless spite.  “Do we have an ETA?”

“Thirty minutes,” Linda said, after a moment.  “She’s coming directly from the planet.”

“I’ll meet her at the shuttlebay,” William said.  He glanced down at the terminal once again, then returned it to his belt.  “Pass the word to the other senior officers, Linda.  The captain is about to come aboard.”

He closed the channel, then looked around the Ready Room.  It had been intended for the starship’s commander, but he’d found himself using it during the desperate struggle to get Lightning worked up and ready for deployment.  As always, the yard dogs had missed things that only experienced crewmembers would have noticed, while other items or problems simply didn’t show themselves until the starship was run at full power for the first time.  He looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk – the captain’s desk – and sighed to himself.  The room would have to be cleaned before the captain laid eyes on it ...

No, he told himself.  There isn't anyone who can be spared from more important work.

Leaving the office behind, he walked through Officer Country and into his own cabin.  It was smaller than the captain’s chambers, but it suited him, even though the bulkheads were still bare and utterly untouched by any paintings or moving images.  A handful of old-fashioned paper books sat on a bookshelf, each one very well thumbed.  They’d cost him a month’s salary apiece, but they’d been worth it.  There was something about a paper book that was never quite matched by anything on the datanet.

He stripped down rapidly, then pulled his white dress uniform over his underclothes and glanced at the mirror.  His homeworld hadn't possessed any form of rejuvenation technology until after they had made contact with the Commonwealth and it showed.  Naval personnel were offered rejuvenation treatments as a matter of course, but his hair was already starting to turn grey, even though he was only sixty.  He had a good seventy years of life left in him, he knew, assuming he wasn't killed in the line of duty, yet he looked old.  And he wasn't vain enough to use cosmetic surgery to make himself look young.  

Besides, he thought, looking old makes it easier to get younger crewmen to pay attention.

He keyed his wristcom.  “Inform me when the captain is five minutes from arrival,” he ordered.  “And then hold any calls for me unless they’re priority-one.”

The thought made him smile.  Everything was priority-one right now, with yard dogs crawling over the cruiser’s hull and countless problems popping up every day that only the CO could solve.  Captain Falcone was going to jump right into the deep end, as soon as she assumed command.  But, as a good XO, he would take as much of the weight from her shoulders as he could.

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Ross said.

***
Kat felt, at times, as though she belonged in space far more than anywhere else.  Space was simple, governed by a set of cold equations that even the most advanced technology in existence couldn't thrust aside completely.  If one made a mistake, one died; it was far simpler than political or social struggles on the planet below.  She pressed her face against the porthole as the shuttle rose out of the atmosphere, feeling nothing but relief as the planet fell away behind them.  In space, she was free ...

Or as free as I will ever be, she thought, sourly.  Her father’s influence followed her everywhere, ensuring that no one would ever think she’d earned something on her own merits.  They might even be right.  Her father didn't have to pull strings overtly to ensure that some toadying admiral would try to flatter or promote his daughter, all in hopes of pleasing Duke Falcone.  

Maybe I should just run.

It was rare, she knew, for a member of the aristocracy to simply abandon her title and walk away, but it did happen.  There were even legends of one particular aristocrat who had cashed in his trust fund, bought a handful of starships and set out to build a trading empire of his own on the other side of the Dead Zone surrounding Earth.  Others, more practically, found places to live on the other worlds and allowed the universe to pass them by.  But Kat knew she was too ambitious to ever abandon her dreams and just walk away.  Besides, she knew she’d done well at Piker’s Peak.  She was damned it she was throwing her achievement away because of a fit of pique.  

“We’re passing the StarCom now,” the pilot called back.  “Any last messages?”

Kat snorted, then turned to stare at the giant construction as it floated in high orbit around the planet.  It looked crude, like a brick orbiting the planet, but she knew it was a technological marvel, allowing humanity to pulse messages through hyperspace without an open vortex.  But she also knew that it was incredibly vulnerable.  Dozens of automated Orbital Weapons Platforms surrounded the StarCom, while other orbital fortifications and gunboats were nearby, ready to protect it if necessary.  Tyre was the only Commonwealth world that had more than one StarCom, but losing this one would be disastrous.  They’d wind up dependent on starships to carry messages from star to star, crippling the speed of information as it flowed around the Commonwealth.

She shook her head, then allowed her gaze to drift towards lights orbiting the planet.  It was hard to see much at this distance, at least with the naked eye, but she knew what they were; giant orbital industrial nodes, space habitats and shipyards, some of them owned by her family.  Few human minds could truly comprehend the sheer scale of industry surrounding the planet – and yet it was smaller than Earth's legendary asteroid belt.  But Earth was gone now, the Sol System devastated by the Breakaway Wars.  Tyre might be the single greatest industrial node remaining in human space.

Unless the Theocracy has a larger industrial base of its own, she thought, morbidly.  No one knew anything about the internal layout of Theocratic space, at least nothing more detailed than it had been prior to the Breakaway Wars.  Most of the worlds within their sphere had been stage-one colonies, barely capable of supporting themselves, but a handful had funded their own settlement and produced small industrial bases of their own.  How far had they progressed, she asked herself, under Theocratic rule?  There was no way to know.

She shook her head as they flew away from the planet, the twinkling lights blurring into the ever-present stars, then turned her attention to the files her father had given her.  Much of the data was, as she’d expected, drawn from naval databases, but some came from independent civilian analysts.  Naval officers tended to scorn; Kat, who had seen some of the analysts who worked for her father, knew better.  Civilians often had a different – and sometimes illuminating – way of looking at the universe.  It was, at the very least, an alternate point of view.

The first file tabulated shipping losses along the border.  Kat worked her way through it and slowly realized that her father had, if anything, underestimated the situation.  The losses were tiny in absolute terms, but they were steadily gnawing away at the Commonwealth’s merchant marine.  It would be years before the big corporations were undermined fatally by their losses, yet the smaller companies and the independents were in big trouble.  She was astonished that the problem hadn’t made the mainstream media, no matter what the bigger corporations said.  But then, it would be a brave editor who went against the will of his ultimate superior.

If the losses are made public, insurance rates will soar, Kat thought.  She could see why her father and the other CEOs wanted the matter to remain quiet.  But sooner or later, someone is going to notice anyway.  Or are we compensating the colonies for destroyed ships out of our own pockets?

The next file detailed other problems along the border.  It wasn't easy to mine large tracts of hyperspace – energy storms and gravity waves ensured the mines wouldn't stay in place for very long – but the Theocracy had been doing it, showing an astonishing persistence and a great deal of paranoia.  Kat couldn't help agreeing with the analyst’s conclusion; no one, not even the most bloody-minded state in human history, would expend so much resources on mining hyperspace unless they had something to hide.  

Or perhaps they don’t want us to spread ideas about freedom into their space, Kat thought, remembering a handful of refugees she’d met during border patrol.  They’d stolen a starship and made it out of the Theocracy, placing their lives in the Commonwealth’s hands rather than stay one moment longer under oppressive rule.  Their stories had been horrifying.  The Theocracy gave lip service to the idea of religious freedom, but those who didn't accept the True Faith suffered all kinds of legal penalties.  It was, apparently, incentive to convert.

The third file consisted of a detailed political briefing, written by yet another independent analyst.  Kat felt her eyes glazing over as she tried to follow the jargon – it seemed that jargon changed every year, depending on who was sitting in the Houses of Parliament – and eventually skipped to the executive summery.  Kat had to read through it twice to understand what her father had been trying to tell her.  The Commonwealth was enduring a political deadlock; the War Hawks demanding preparations for war, perhaps even a first strike, while the Doves were skeptical of any real threat from the Theocracy.  After all, the Commonwealth was much larger than any other state the Theocracy had overwhelmed.

“Captain,” the pilot said, “we’re entering final approach now.”

Kat nodded, returned the datachip to her uniform pocket, then scrambled forward into the empty co-pilot’s chair.  Outside, a cluster of lights were slowly coming into view, a mobile spacedock surrounding a starship.  She leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat, as HMS Lightning took shape and form.  Her command, she told herself, forgetting her anger at her father for pulling strings on her behalf.  Lightning was her command.

The vessel was longer than Kat had expected, she noted, although she’d reviewed the files on the Uncanny-class heavy cruisers when she’d received the first notification.  Lightning resembled a flattened cone, her white hull bristling with shield generators, missile tubes, weapons mounts and sensor blisters.  Her name was prominently blazed on her hull, drawing Kat’s attention to the drives at the rear of the ship.  If the files were to be believed, Lightning enjoyed a higher realspace velocity than anything larger than a destroyer or frigate.  

But she still won’t have a hope of outrunning a gunboat swarm, she thought.  A gunboat was tiny, able to outrace almost anything.  And they were hard to hit.  Or a missile.

The thought was chilling.  No one had fought a real conflict since the Breakaway Wars – and that hadn't really included formal fleet actions.  Who knew how well doctrine would hold up when the Navy was tested in a real fight?  Like it or not, she knew, there would be a steep learning curve as soon as the war began.  If the war began ...

She shook her head.  She knew that was wishful thinking.

“Take us in,” she ordered, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.  “Put us down as quickly as possible.”

Coming in eBook and paperback, 15/9/2015

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