Free Falcone Strike by Christopher Nuttall Page A

don’t think it would make any difference.”
    “I don’t think I could cope with it,” William said. Part of his mind told him to relax, to take all he could get, but the rest of him wanted something clean to do. “Being back on a starship would be much more relaxing.”
    Janice eyed him for a long moment, then cocked her head, consulting her implants. “A shuttle will be leaving here in five hours, heading to Hyperion,” she said. “You’ll have a seat on it, Commander, and orders that will arrange for your transfer to Lightning . Good luck.”
    “Thank you, Commander,” William said.
    “I am also obligated to remind you that everything you’ve done here is classified,” she warned. “You must not discuss your work with anyone, without prior permission.”
    William nodded, impatiently.
    “There is a swimming pool in the residency complex, as well as some simulators,” Janice added. “Feel free to use them, if you can’t get to sleep.”
    William nodded. He’d been surprised, the first time he’d visited the unnamed asteroid, that it had so many facilities, but it was clear that most of the staff rarely left; hell, they probably endured longer deployments than any starship crewmen, even though they were in the Tyre System. He rose to his feet, then shook Janice’s hand when she gravely extended it to him before turning and stepping through the hatch. Outside, he turned and walked down towards the residency complex where he’d been assigned a small cabin. His implants blinked up warnings as he passed secure compartments, reminding him he wasn’t allowed to try to open the hatches. If he tried, he’d been warned months ago, he’d be lucky to see freedom again.
    His cabin was small, not much larger than the one he’d enjoyed as a newly minted lieutenant on a starship. He lay down on the bed and forced himself to relax, then swore under his breath as his orders flashed up on the bedside terminal. Lightning was apparently orbiting the gas giant, but there was nothing else, not even warning orders for a future deployment to the front lines. Had the damage been greater than he’d realized? Or had the mission orders, whatever they were, been classified? He hoped, prayed, that it was the latter. Being stuck orbiting a gas giant would be maddening, with his homeworld occupied and the enemy pressing his comrades hard.
    He gritted his teeth, realizing that sleep would elude him for the rest of the night, then sat up and accessed the latest intelligence reports. There wasn’t much from Hebrides, but what there was didn’t seem encouraging. The Theocracy had landed a large army and seemed to be engaged in massive counterinsurgency campaigns; the locals, meanwhile, had taken to the mountains and were raiding the enemy whenever they got a chance. Long-range scans from prowling recon starships noted that the occupiers were calling in kinetic energy weapon strikes regularly, almost on a daily basis. He couldn’t help feeling pride, even as cold fear for his friends and family threatened to overwhelm him. At least they were going down fighting.
    But they could still lose , he thought. Scott and I might be among the last survivors .
    It wasn’t a pleasant thought, so he contemplated it morbidly as he changed into his swimming trunks and headed down to the pool. It was deserted, save for a couple of intelligence analysts swimming laps around the edge of the water. He took a shower, then dived into the water and swam until he felt his body starting to tire. There was no point in trying to talk to either of the analysts, he knew; they rarely had anything interesting to say. They might have done so before—it did happen—but they would probably be under strict orders not to talk to their friends let alone someone in a swimming pool. He smiled at the thought, then climbed out of the pool, showered again, and then walked back to his cabin. An update, blinking away merrily on his display, told him that the shuttle