Codename: Night Witch
Codename: Night Witch
The Girls from Alcyone III
Cary Caffrey
Codename: Night Witch. Published by Cary Caffrey. Copyright 2015 by Cary Caffrey. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, visit Cary Caffrey at
carycaffrey.com
This novel is a work of fiction created by the author. All characters, events and organizations portrayed in this novel are works of the author's imagination.
Copyright 2015 by Cary Caffrey
Cover art by Anne Pogoda
Published by Alcyone Studio, NB, Canada
All rights reserved
Contents
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Pirate King
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Arms Of The Enemy
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Smith & Jones
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rolling Thunder
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A Murder of Crows
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Crow's Nest
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Night Witch
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Kindness of Strangers
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Master & Servant
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Wounded
Books by Cary Caffrey
The Girls from Alcyone Trilogy
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Codename: Night Witch
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For Gisele, and for the Monday Nighters:
Ruthie, Matt, Matt, Sarah, Erika and Liane.
PROLOGUE
Cor Caroli
April 22, 2354
New Manchuria, Cor Caroli. Independent Space
Captain Tomanek stared ahead, squinting against the setting twin suns of Cor Caroli. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, but more from the wind and sand than from the dwindling twilight. He paused on the hilltop to take one last look around, but there was nothing to see. The place was a wasteland, a rock.
Sandblasted bits of rubble and stone foundations, piles of crumbling bricks, there was nothing left of the Independent colony of New Manchuria. It was gone, wiped from the face of the planet. Tomanek and his men had made certain of that. The Independents might have started this war, but he was going to finish it.
For years he'd thought the Independents fools. They all had. Nine free worlds standing against the corporate might of the Federation? It was madness. But all that changed five years ago. The Independents weren't so
mad
anymore, were they? In one bloody night of violence they'd changed everything. The Council for Trade and Finance was dead, assassinated. It was still hard to believe. And they weren't done yet. These Independents were only just getting started.
Next came Vega IV. Eighteen corporate enclaves put to the torch. But even that paled compared to Procyon.
Procyon—Fortress Procyon!
Tomanek spat in the dirt. It was gone, wiped out. His own brothers and sisters in arms murdered by the tens of thousands. And if the intel could be believed, it was all done by a single lone operative.
The Witch.
That was what they called her.
The Night Witch.
It was just a codename, something to frighten the proletariat. But witch or no witch, if she was here in New Manchuria, she was dead already.
Tomanek scanned the devastation with the satisfaction that comes from a job well done. Genocide? That was a word for bureaucrats, not soldiers. He wasn't about to lose sleep over a few dead colonists. Wiping out this colony was just the start. The CTF would take back the Federation, even if they had to do it planet by bloody planet.
For the first time since arriving, Tomanek permitted himself a smile. The war was over. They'd won. He found himself whistling as he left the watch post. The garrison encampment was less than one hundred meters away down the hill, a stone's throw, yet there was nothing to see. His men were well dug in and he was hard-pressed to spot a single temporary shelter or camouflaged bunker. Work had already begun on the revetments for the six Raven fighters and the handful of Starlings that were tasked with his air support. Soon those would be just as difficult to spot.
The makeshift HQ was just ahead, half-buried in the sand and hidden behind a small stand of burned-out trees. The two guards on duty saluted smartly as he came forward. They drew the flap aside and he bent low as he entered. Inside, the men and women of Dog Company were busy working to set up the command post. They unpacked and hooked up the communications and monitoring gear, everything that was essential to establishing a garrison on Cor Caroli.
"Status," Tomanek barked as he approached the lieutenant, a woman he'd served with through more tours than he could count.
"It's quiet, sir. This isn't garrison duty, this is a vacation. I think our biggest problem is going to be keeping the men occupied."
"I'm sure Sergeant Akiloye will find something for them to do."
"No doubt, sir."
"Sir!"
Tomanek spun around to see two soldiers burst into the tent. The soldiers were out of breath, their faces flushed. They also had their assault rifles unslung and at the ready.
"Sir, there's something—" The private pointed frantically up. "There's something up there. It's coming in."
Lieutenant Madison was already at the tactical station, hovering over the duty officer's shoulder. Her station gave her access to all the monitoring sats they'd parked in orbit; ground radar, motion detectors—she scanned each in quick succession. The systems were completely automated, designed to detect even the smallest traces of motion. She shook her head. "Scope's clear, sir. There's nothing out there."
"Tell me carefully, Private," Tomanek said. He didn't remember the soldier's name, but the tactical scanner embedded in his contact lens flashed the private's name before his eye.
Mendez.
"Tell me, Mendez, what exactly did you see?"
"Not just me, sir—we both saw it." Mendez jabbed a thumb at the other soldier; she took a half-step backward, distancing herself from Private Mendez. "It's a ship, sir. I swear it."
Growling his irritation, Tomanek grabbed a pair of macro-binoculars from the rack and walked quickly outside—if this was another false alert…
The two privates and Lieutenant Madison followed in his wake. Mendez pointed toward the darkest part of the sky. "There, sir. It's there, sir, I swear it. I spotted it at thirty-six degrees, elevation nineteen thousand meters, descending fast—straight vertical trajectory."
The macro-binoculars had excellent night optics. The captain made the adjustment, zooming in before panning up and pulling back. He almost missed it: the single black speck, no heat signature, falling fast, like a stone or maybe a meteorite.
No, not a meteor. "A glider."
Madison was already gripping the comm strapped to her wrist. "Sound general quarters! I want those Ravens
in the air yesterday. All triple-A on station. Now!"
The encampment erupted into life. Camouflage coverings were swept aside to reveal row after row of antiaircraft emplacements. The screaming whine of the Ravens'
suborbital engines powering filled the night air.
Raising the binoculars again, Tomanek scanned the skies. The incoming ship was closer. He could just make out its silhouette.
Juncos! They were using Juncos.
"Bloody antiques…"
The glider was dropping in from orbit, unpowered with all its systems switched off. The pilot's tactics were desperate, but there was a method to his madness. None of Tomanek's automated defenses could be brought to bear on the single fighter. With no heat or electronic signature, his crews would be forced to fire line-of-sight. Even radar was useless; proved as their signals deflected harmlessly away by the Junco's
ancient but still highly effective
radar-absorbing materials
.
These Independents were nothing if not committed. They were bloody fanatics. It was madness. The attacker was committed to the suicidal descent, unable to maneuver—or fire his weapons, for that matter. Tomanek knew they would wait to the last minute before switching everything on. And when they did, Tomanek's men would destroy them.
Of course, it was more likely the ancient fighter would simply smash into the ground, taking care of his problem for him. Still, he had to admire the pilot's zeal, even if it meant his death.
High overhead, the first puffs of black smoke appeared followed by another and then another after that: flak exploding as his triple-A crews zeroed on the target. This would all be over in moments.
