Aggressor (Strike Commander Book 3) Read online

 Shaking his head, the doctor said, “I'm afraid I can't give you an answer. As I said, if it was just the broken bones, he'd be up and about in a week, but I don't have the equipment or, in all honesty, the training to determine when, or if, he will recover.”

   “If?” Jack asked.

   “The brain has a remarkable capacity to repair itself, Captain, but not an unlimited one. If we had a staff neurosurgeon and a properly equipped medical facility, the odds would be far greater, but as it is...” He sighed, shook his head again, and said, “I can keep him stable indefinitely, I can make sure matters don't get any worse, but ultimately he's going to have to wake up on his own.”

   “Time frame?” Mallory asked.

   “I honestly cannot tell you, Captain. It could be hours, days, weeks, or conceivably, never. He wasn't in good health before the crash, which complicates matters. All I can say is that the longer it takes for him to wake up, the less likely he will. And I've got no real way of determining whether there will be any long-term effects, either.”

   “No one blames you, Doctor,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “I know you're doing the best you can.”

   “And in this instance, I'm afraid it just isn't enough.” Gesturing at the pilot, he continued, “By the way, I want to see you in Sickbay to have another look at that arm, right after this meeting.”

   “I don't see that we have any choice other than to proceed to the facility,” Finch said.

   Nodding, Jack added, “We don't have any good leads to follow, and we know that at the very least we can do some significant damage to Knight and her friends. That's worth something.”

   Turning to Jack, Mallory replied, “Let's be sure we understand what we're facing. We've got six fighters and three missile tubes, and even if we're fortunate enough not to encounter Theseus, we can expect fighter opposition supported by missile platforms. That base is going to be a difficult target to bring down.”

   Finch looked at her, and replied, “One good strike ought to do it, especially if we can get it in the right place. We've got enough information from the schematics to work out the most vulnerable spots.” Warming to his argument, he said, “They might have the strongest defense perimeter in the galaxy, but we've only got to get lucky with a single shot to bring them down.”

   “We've got to live to take that shot, Lieutenant, and we've got to get into position to make it. They'll do everything they can to stop us, and they must be expecting an attack at some point,” Mallory pressed. “There's also another possibility we haven't discussed yet.”

   “That this is a trap,” Jack replied. “That had occurred to me.”

   “If that's the case, they've gone to a lot of trouble to bait it,” Sullivan said. “And they've already lost one ship.”

   “It might be worth it to bring Churchill down,” Cruz said. “God knows we're a glass fist anyway. A few good hits and we'd be dead in space.” She paused, then added, “Maybe we could head to Belzoni Station and hook up with Monitor, get some serious support. With two ships...”

   “No,” Jack said.

   Frowning, Strickland said, “Belzoni's facilities aren't first-line, but they are a lot better than we've got. There'd be a much better chance for Simmons there than he has here. And...”

   “No,” Jack repeated, looking around the table. “We're not going to hold off on this, and we're not going to head to Belzoni Station. For one thing, we don't even know if Monitor's there. There's an excellent chance that it will be a wasted trip, and one that will cost us ten days.”

   “Surely…,” Finch began.

   “We don't know if we have ten days to waste, Lieutenant,” Jack said. “That installation is likely completed, based on our intelligence assessment, and if that is the case, they'll have already begun their sweep for the star. Anyone here qualified to make a guess as to how long it'll take?”

   “A few months,” Sullivan said. “At most.”

   “At any day, they might find what they are looking for. With Theseus on station, and almost certainly at immediate notice for departure, Knight can then leave the installation behind, reach the alien homeworld and win the race.” Looking around the table he said, “While we're still rummaging around trying to gather what few reinforcements we've got, they're gathering the data they need to complete their objective. A lot of people have already died for this. We're not going to let them down.”

   Finch looked at Mallory, who almost to her own surprise, replied, “I agree. Fundamentally, Monitor doesn't add that much to our strength. One obsolete cruiser against a battlecruiser won't be a long fight.” Nodding, she continued, “In conventional battle, we wouldn't have a chance even with both ships. We're going to have to use guile anyway, so we might as well gain the advantage of speed.”

   “There's another factor,” Sullivan said. “Wildcat. They know she was going to be jumping home sometime today. If she's overdue, then they'll conclude that we've escaped the trap and destroyed them, and reinforce their defenses accordingly. Move quickly, and we'll beat them to the draw.” He smiled, and added, “This is a job for a fighter squadron anyway, not a capital ship.”

   “My sentiments exactly,” Jack said. “Finch, we'll be counting on you to give us a complete run-down on the vulnerable spots on that facility. I want a full tactical analysis in twelve hours.”

   “Aye, sir,” he said, after receiving a confirming nod from Mallory. “You'll have it.”

   Frowning, Cruz added, “I'll give you a hand, Andy. I've never worked on a construction project where everything went exactly according to the blueprints. Some of those weak spots might not be there when we arrive.” Looking at the projection of the installation, she said, “Maybe I can run through the construction process on a simulator, see where the trouble spots might have taken place. Any way we can work out who might have been in charge of the design?”

   “We've got a full personnel database,” Mallory said. “As well as a long list of those who have been associated with Knight in the past. I can't imagine they'd have brought a civilian construction team in on this, so it must be from the Construction Corps.”

   With a wry smile, Cruz said, “I trained more than a few of them. Odds are I can think the way they do, especially if I know which one. There was this guy...”

   “See what you can do,” Mallory replied, interrupting the anecdote. “As for the attack, we'll keep it simple for the first run. Intelligence sweep to see where we end up, but I think we're going to end up with a decoy and switch attack. That'll mean the Vulcans have to be front-and-center for the battle. Any problems?”

   “That's where we like to be,” Xylander said with a smile.

   “I'll be holding a series of battle station drills over the next few days to get us ready, and I want all departments to make sure they are as ready for action as they can possibly be. Nothing left to chance. Is that understood?”

   “I'll be running simulations with both fighter wings as well,” Jack added. “We're going to have a nice range of scenarios to play with, Lieutenant, because I want sample attack strikes on all six targets, with a range of enemy assumptions all the way up to worst-case. By the time we reach our destination, we're going to need to be able to do it in our sleep.”

   “You'll have them by tomorrow morning, sir,” Finch replied. “Do I assume that Churchill will be taking part in the attack?”

   “Only in a decoy role,” Mallory said. “If we're going toe-to-toe with Theseus, then everything has gone very, very wrong. We don't care commit Churchill to the battle unless we have no alternative.” Looking around the table, she added, “Which does not mean that we will not prepare for the worst, gentlemen. I want to be ready just in case Theseus is somehow waiting for us immediately upon our arrival in-system.”

   “Green Flight will be ready to scramble as soon as we break out of hendecaspace. Major Bennett, I'll go over your flight plan with you later,” Jack added. “I think that's
about everything. Dismissed.” Looking at Mallory, he said, “Can you hang around for a minute?”

   “Certainly,” she said, turning to Finch. “Head up to the bridge, Lieutenant, and take us to the egress point, course plotted for the installation. If I'm not up there by the time you reach it, execute hendecaspace transfer. We don't have any time to waste.”

   “Yes, Captain,” he said, as the rest of the officers filed out of the room, leaving Mallory alone with her ex-husband, sitting at opposite ends of the table.

   “Just like old times,” Jack said, a smile on his face. “Remember that convoy, out at Epsilon Eridani? Three weeks of meetings like this, and we had the mission finished in five minutes when we actually got out there.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I just hope this one goes as smoothly.”

   She looked at him, then said, “You look good in your uniform. It suits you.”

   Glancing down at his jacket, he replied, “I've still got my old Space Service uniform in my quarters. Actually fits, even now.” He paused, then continued, “I never should have stopped wearing it. I suppose in a way I never did.”

   With a smile, she said, “It really did feel like the years had fallen away. We could have been out at Barnard's Star, or the Neptune Trojans.” She sighed, then added, “I'm sorry I didn't allow you to go to Susan's graduation.”

   He smiled, and replied, “As I remember, we were both rather busy at the time. Under fire.”

   “Even so, it was a cheap thing to do, and I should have let you go.”

   “Does she know anything about me?” he asked, his face dropping into a frown.

   Shaking her head, Mallory replied, “Nothing but the bare essentials. Jack, she was four when you left, and she'd gone through enough as it was. I didn't see any reason to put her through any more misery than necessary, and the therapist...”

   “Therapist?” he said, turning to her.

   “Yes, Jack, her therapist. That happens to children when their father spends most of their life getting drunk before vanishing in a haze of fury.” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

   “Why not? It's true enough.” He turned to her, and said, “I sank low, Kat. Lower than you ever saw. If Mo hadn't found me in that bar on Titan, I'd probably have died a long time ago. A part of me did, back at Proxima.” He sighed, and said, “A bigger part died at the court-martial, and the biggest when I found out we were divorced. Mo told me, that day.”

   “Damn it, Jack, you didn't know? You signed the papers!”

   “And I was probably drunk at the time, or out of my mind on whatever narcotic I could find.” With a thin smile, he said, “I don't have many memories from those years. Between them, Mo and Cruz managed to drag me back from the brink, and did a good enough patch job to keep me going.” He looked down at the deck, and said, “I guess you know about my annual binge.”

   Nodding, she replied, “Xylander told me. And blamed me for it.”

   “I'll have to have a word with a few people. You didn't do anything wrong. I did. And by God, I've paid for that, paid all my life since those days.” He sighed, and said, “During the War, everything was so much easier. There were the good guys, and the bad guys, and I was one of the good guys. All I had to do was climb into my fighter. I'd have probably fallen apart no matter what happened. I'm just glad someone managed to put the pieces back together.”

   “Not me,” Mallory said, quietly.

   “You had Susan to worry about. You made your choice.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “I've thought about this a lot over the years, and if our roles had been reversed, I honestly don't know that I wouldn't have made the same choice. I don't blame you. Maybe once, but not any more.” Churchill's engines began to hum, and he said, “I guess we've both got things to do.”

   “Yeah,” she replied, rising to her feet, leaving Jack sitting at the table. As she walked to the door, he looked up.

   “For what it's worth, you made the right call,” he said.

   She looked at him for a long moment, their eyes locked together in mutual contemplation of what might have been, then turned out into the corridor, heading for the bridge.

  Chapter 5

   “Name,” the interrogator asked, white-hot lights bearing down on her.

   “I already told you,” Susan replied. “Cadet Susan Conway.”

   “Parents?”

   “Kathryn Mallory and Jack Conway.”

   “Interesting,” the nameless man said. “Mother first, father second. Any reason?”

   “I haven't seen my father since I was four. He left us.”

   The man smiled, and replied, “We both know that isn't the whole of the story though, don't we. That there was a lot more too it than that.” Rising from his seat, the interrogator continued, “We're talking about a decorated war hero, a fighter ace, who suddenly goes off the deep end and is court-martialed, thrown out of the service in disgrace.”

   “What?”

   “And who ends up a decade later as a top Triplanetary Intelligence agent, commanding a carrier, no less.” Shaking his head, he continued, softly, “You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?”

   Shaking her head, she continued, “I don't know what you are talking about. My mother told me that he'd run off, and that he'd been discharged from the Martian Space Service during the demobilization.”

   Taking a deep breath, the man said, “Either your dear mother has decided to conceal some of the truth, or you have decided to try and be difficult.” A twisted smile crossed his face, and he said, “Humor me for a moment, Cadet. Let us assume that you are lying. Let me tell you what I think happened. Lieutenant-Captain Jack Conway, for he is an officer in the Triplanetary Fleet...”

   “He is?” she interrupted.

   “Oh, most certainly,” the man said, reaching down to push a button. A holographic image of Jack Conway appeared between them, wearing a Triplanetary field service uniform. “Taken two months ago by one of our operatives.”

   “I don't believe you. This is faked.”

   With a sigh, the man continued, “Lieutenant-Captain Jack Conway never left the service, did he. He instead moved into the murkier waters of Triplanetary Intelligence, as a covert operative on the frontier. His ship, listed formally as a transport, instead proves to be a carrier.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “For your information, your father remains an excellent fighter pilot, by the way, as several of our people have found to their cost.”

   “I knew he flew fighters during the war. Mum never told me much about him. Just said that he was a good man who had lost his way.”

   “No, I don't believe that to be the case at all.” He took a step towards her, and said, “Old drunken veterans do not suddenly appear commanding a key asset of Triplanetary Intelligence, and they most certainly do not possess the contacts that your father has.” Shaking his head, he added, “Your mother knew about it all the time.”

   “What?”

   He tapped a control, and an image of Kathryn Mallory appeared, walking next to Conway down a corridor. Susan's eyes widened as she watched her parents together, shaking her head in disbelief.

   “No,” she said. “She wouldn't have lied to me, not after all of these years. She wouldn't!”

   “She is an excellent officer with a fine service record, and one that has spent a lot of time on the frontier herself, likely working alongside your father on covert operations.” Shaking his head, he added, “I suppose they had plenty of chances to get together. Almost surprising you don't have a little brother or sister. Unless that's a secret as well.”

   “She was getting married. To another officer.” She looked up at the interrogator, tears beginning to roll down her face, and added, “He died, fighting the Cabal.”

   “How convenient.”

   “She cried for days. Took three weeks compassionate leave.”
/>    “Perhaps she was cheating on her husband. Did that occur to you?”

   “What are you talking about? She divorced him more than a decade ago...”

   “Do you really believe the paper trail that Triplanetary Intelligence has left behind? Do you really believe that an officer so disgraced, one who reportedly suffered a nervous breakdown that left him a drunken derelict stumbling from bar to bar in the outer system, would simply be cast off and abandoned to return as the command officer of a starship? Does that truly seem credible to you?”

   “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Mother said...”

   “Mother, mother, mother!” the man yelled. “Get this through your head. One way or another, there are deceptions buried here, and I am going to find out what they are, no matter how long it takes. I have time, all the time I need, and I can assure you that no one is going to come looking for you. The only hope you have, and I am forced to admit it is a slim one, is to cooperate fully with me. Then I might arrange your return to Mars.”

   “My father left us. He ran off...”

   The interrogator tossed a datapad at her, and said, “Read the official report, then, for whatever it is worth. The official psychological assessment of then-Major Jack Conway, while awaiting his court-martial. They came damn near ordering therapy before the Hanging Admiral decided to throw him out of the service instead.”

   She skimmed through the file, shaking her head, and said, “If this is true...”

   “Don't worry, I'm quite sure it isn't.” Taking another deep breath, the interrogator said, “Jack Conway joined Triplanetary Intelligence, probably a few years after the War, and this court-martial was arranged in order to cover his actions. Certainly he kept a low profile during that time. Only now does he appear to have been fully reactivated.” Shaking his head, he said, “Looks good in that uniform, doesn't he. As if he'd never stopped wearing it. And I don't believe he ever did.” He looked down at Susan, and said, “I think you've had a lot to process in this session. Maybe we've reached the limit for today.”