Battlecruiser Alamo: Cage of Gold

by Richard Tongue

  CAGE OF GOLD

  Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 15

  Richard Tongue

  Battlecruiser Alamo #15: Cage of Gold

  Copyright © 2015 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: November 2015

  Cover By Keith Draws

  All characters and events portrayed within this ebook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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  With Thanks To: Ellen Clarke and Peter Long

  All the world over, nursing their scars,

  Sit the old fighting-men broke in the wars--

  Sit the old fighting-men, surly and grim

  Mocking the lilt of the conquerors' hymn.

  Dust of the battle o'erwhelmed them and hid.

  Fame never found them for aught that they did.

  Wounded and spent to the lazar they drew,

  Lining the road where the Legions roll through.

  Sons of the Laurel who press to your meed,

  Worthy God's pity most – you who succeed!

  Ere you go triumphing, crowned, to the stars,

  Pity poor fighting-men, broke in the wars!

  Rudyard Kipling

  Chapter 1

   As he had countless times before, Captain Marshall sat in the command chair, looking around the bridge of the Battlecruiser Alamo, waiting for the ship to make the transition back into normal space, not knowing what would be lurking in the unexplored system ahead. Their mission was the recovery of an enemy starship, one that had apparently been lost and abandoned in orbit around a habitable planet in that system, but that was all they knew.

   Signs of the battle they had recently fought were all around him. Cautionary warnings from systems that Engineer Quinn had been unable to repair, technicians bypassing problems that they had no time to solve. The ship was in no state for a fight, and certainly no state to go exploring, but the prize they sought was worth the risk they were running.

   To his right, his tactical officer, Senior Lieutenant Caine, monitored the combat systems, using all her expertise to keep them running. Behind him, his operations officer, Senior Lieutenant Orlova, stood watching the viewscreen with as much attention as he. At the helm, Midshipman Foster rode her console with consummate skill, managing the transition to normal space, nursing Alamo back into her home dimension.

   “Ten seconds,” she said, glancing up from her work.

   “Acknowledged, Midshipman,” he replied. “You have the call.” Turning to Caine, he asked, “Everything ready?”

   “As ready as we can make it,” she said.

   “Spinelli, Weitzman,” he continued, turning to the sensor and communications technicians behind him. “Full sweep as soon as we get into the system. We’ve only got the barest amount of information, so sing out at the slightest sign of trouble.”

   “Aye, sir,” they replied, as the elevator door opened, Lieutenant Grant stepping out onto the bridge. He glanced at Orlova, then stood to her side. He was something of a fifth wheel at the moment, an officer searching for a role after his flying career had come to an abrupt end, and it showed in the sullen expression on his face.

   “Two seconds,” Foster said. “One. Transition.”

   The familiar flash of Cerenkov blue brought Alamo into the new system, the stars appearing on the viewscreen once again, a brown sphere resting at the heart of the image, the planet they were seeking. To his left, the tactical display jumped, planets moving into their correct position as the system replaced extrapolations of distant data with reality. The details could be left to the science team. Essentially, the system was as advertised, four planets orbiting a cold sun, the second being the source of their current interest.

   “Reading signs of life, sir,” Spinelli said. “I’ve got the alien spaceship, down on the surface.”

   “On the surface?” Marshall asked. “A starship that can land on a planet?”

   “Not just that, Captain,” the technician added. “I’m picking up a small city, and several outlying settlements. Roads connecting them up, signs of agriculture.” He looked up at a reading, and said, “My guess is that we’ve found a lost human colony. There’s a larger ship at the heart of the city. I’m trying to match it now.”

   Shaking her head, Caine said, “No records of any attempts at colonization this far out, but it won’t be the first time that we’ve been surprised. Could be connected with the Cabal, of course?”

   “Not according to the data we brought back,” Orlova said. “This is three or four jumps beyond their territory. They’d have orbital defenses, as well, and I’m not reading anything along those lines.”

   “I recommend caution,” Grant said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

   “The not-man ship is well beyond the territorial area,” Spinelli said. Stepping from his station, he walked up to the hologram and manipulated a control to bring the surface of the planet into stark relief. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. The atmospheric pressure is too thin for life as we know it at ground level, but there are a series of deep craters, the deepest more than five miles down.” He gestured at the image, and said, “It forms two levels. One where the pressure is about Earth-normal, another which averages that found at ten thousand feet. On both life would be possible.”

   “And the city, the bulk of the civilization, is focused on the areas of greatest habitability,” Marshall said. “What about the rest?”

   “We’ll learn a lot more when we get into orbit,” Spinelli said. “No sign of structures there, though I am picking up point heat-sources. Could be small settlements, maybe scouting parties.”

   “Do we go for orbit, sir?” Foster asked.

   With a thin smile, Marshall said, “It would be a shame to come all this way and go home without a closer look, wouldn’t it? Proceed to synchronous orbit over the city, Midshipman. Best speed. Spinelli, I want a look at the whole of the planet. Anything we don’t pass over, use shuttles. You’re sure there isn’t anything in orbit?”

   “Not a thing, sir. No sign of any satellites, or any activity at all. Maybe they’ve regressed from spacefaring capability.”

   “Then nothing can stop us,” Grant said.

   “We’re just strangers here, Lieutenant,” Orlova said, “And I wouldn’t leap too quickly into the lion’s den. We don’t know the situation down there.”

   The main engines fired, hurling Alamo towards the planet, its image slowly growing in the viewscreen as the ship drew nearer. Periodically, the sensor display would update, showing the surface in greater and greater clarity, the city slowly resolving itself into a cluster of buildings, narrow trails curving up from the deep crater to the higher plateaus surrounding it.

   “A signal, sir,” Weitzman said. “It’s primitive, old radio, but beamed at us. Coming from the city. I’ve isolated the transmitter.”

   “Looks like some sort of military station,” Spinelli added. “Maybe orbital observation. They must have seen us when we came into the system.” Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t see how they can have missed us.”

   “Very well, put me on,” Marshall said, sliding a headset into position. “This is Fleet Captain Daniel Marshall, commanding the Triplanetary Battlecruiser Alamo. To whom am I speaking?”

   A deep voice crackled through the static, replying, “This is General Daniels, commanding officer of Fort Medaris. I have the Governor for you, on relay.”

   Caine looked across, whispering, “United States General, Cold War era.”

   “That just
about confirms it,” Orlova replied.

   “Thank you, General,” Marshall replied.

   “Cold War?” Grant asked.

   A softer voice came onto the line, saying, “This is Governor Hammond. What nation do you represent?”

   “The Triplanetary Confederation, sir,” Marshall said. “May I ask the same question of you?”

   There was a faint chuckle, and Hammond replied, “Young man, I am the Governor of Thule Territory of the United States of America.”

   A hush filled the room, Grant saying, “The United States hasn’t existed in decades.”

   “Here, I presume, it still does,” Orlova replied.

   “Governor, you have me at a considerable disadvantage.”

   “Captain Marshall, I assure you that the confusion is mutual. You represent a government I have never heard of, and I presume you are surprised to find an outpost of our great nation lost among the stars. Nevertheless, we can discuss matters of constitutional legality at more leisure. You command a warship?”

   “A capital ship of the Triplanetary Confederation, yes.”

   “And I presume that you have technology that dwarfs ours, in that you have retained the secret of starflight. You might be the answer to all of our prayers, Captain.”

   “In what way, sir?”

   “Our colony is under attack by savage forces that live in the high plateaus. An alien vessel landed here some months ago, and is providing them with technological and tactical assistance to launch strikes against us. Their goal is nothing less than the elimination of our presence on this planet. Captain, I am responsible for the lives of twenty-five thousand men, women and children.”

   “You are requesting our assistance?”

   “I am compelling it, sir, as I presume the nations you claim ancestry from had treaties with my government that were never removed.” He paused, then said, “The Last War would have prevented any such.”

   “The Triplanetary Confederation has no such formative treaties,” Marshall replied, “but I could be in a position to offer assistance, once I have assessed the situation. Certainly we won’t sit by in orbit and watch a massacre; we have faced your enemy in battle on several occasions.”

   “Then you will help?” Hammond asked.

   “Subject to my assessment of the situation, yes,” he said. “I cannot promise anything, but I have the latitude to offer limited military and technological aid.”

   “In that case, Captain, I invite you and your crew to come down and take a look for yourselves. Please consider yourself as guests of the United States government, and I offer you full permission to enter parking orbit around Thule.”

   “The name of your planet?”

   “Indeed. We have no airstrip; do your shuttles have VTOL capabilities, or would you like us to clear a runway?”

   “We can land on any patch of level ground, sir. If you provide my technician with the suitable co-ordinates, my staff will make the arrangements.” He glanced across at the display, and said, “I will see you in one hour from now, if that is suitable.”

   “More than suitable, Captain. I’m very much looking forward to meeting you face to face. To see humans from another world is a boon that I never thought I would receive. I will turn you over to General Daniels to arrange the details. Thule out.”

   “Fix that up, Maggie,” Marshall said, passing her the headset. “Then get Shuttle One ready for launch.”

   “Thule,” Grant said. “Nice, bleak name for a planet. An outpost at the end of the world.” He looked around, then said, “None of you ever studied mythology?”

   “You’re going, Danny?” Caine said. “Down to a planet that we have not checked, to a situation that is uncertain at best, that we know is under attack by hostile forces?”

   Placing her headset down after dictating some numbers, Orlova said, “Let me go in your place, Captain, as your envoy.”

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “Not this time, Maggie. Whatever he is calling himself, that’s the political leader of a sovereign planet. Protocol demands that the senior officer in-system goes down to meet him. If for no other reason that I have to make the arrangements myself.”

   “Then why not bring him up to us?” Grant asked. “Shuttle One…”

   “Protocol again,” Caine said with an exasperated sigh. “He invited us down.”

   “He needs us,” Grant pressed. “He said so himself. They are under attack, and they want our help. The least he can do is be flexible.” Looking around the bridge, he said, “There is nothing stopping us from simply breaking orbit and going on our way. If we want the alien ship, then we can make a landing on the plateau and secure it for examination without dealing with the planetary government at all.”

   “Are you seriously suggesting such a course of action, Lieutenant?” Marshall asked.

   “No, sir. Just pointing out that we have a very strong hand in all negotiations, and that we should not forget that.”

   Orlova looked at Grant, and said, “While he has a point, sir, I think it important that we tread carefully. This planet is likely to be on the front lines in any conflict between the Confederation and the Not-Men.”

   “You don’t think they’d side with them against us?” Grant asked.

   “Not by choice,” she replied, “but if we let this domino fall, then they won’t be given that option. This planet could have immense strategic value. A habitable world in this location…”

   “You think we should help them?” Marshall asked.

   “Depending on the situation on the surface, yes, sir. If the not-men have established a foothold on the planet, then we’ve got to counter their presence. Right now Alamo can do it. If we have to wait a while, then it could end up taking a full-scale task force.”

   “I’m not sure we could support operations on Jefferson and here,” Caine said. Shaking her head, she replied, “We’d better go down.”

   “Both of us?” Marshall asked.

   “I’m the Tactical Officer, remember. We both need to make on-the-spot assessments on this before any action can be taken.” Glancing up at Grant, she added, “Frank Nelyubov can take my chair while I’m down on the deck.”

   “I still think you should let me take the lead on this,” Orlova said.

   Marshall tossed his datapad at her. Without thinking, she reached for it with her new, artificial hand, and the thin device slipped through her fingers, clattering to the deck.

   “Light duties, Maggie, remember?” he said. “Nothing that requires you to have too much manual dexterity.”

   “I’m fine, sir.”

   “Not yet, but you will be. As long as you are sensible.” He glanced at Caine, and said, “We’ll take an honor guard down with us. Ensign Cooper, Sergeant Gurung, and a fire team. Make sure they understand that this is a ceremonial mission, and that the plasma weapons they will be bringing with them are for demonstration purposes only.”

   “Understood, sir,” she said.

   “Sir?” Foster asked. “Request permission to serve as shuttle pilot.”

   Marshall glanced at Caine, then said, “Negative, Midshipman, but if you want to come along for the ride, you can. You can act as Lieutenant Caine’s aide on the surface. Call your relief to the helm, and have Sub-Lieutenant Salazar report as pilot. Dress uniforms all around, of course.”

   “Must we?” Caine asked. “They won’t know the difference.”

   “I will, and besides, this is a historic moment. Cameras everywhere, most likely. You don’t want to disappoint the historians of tomorrow, do you?”

   Frowning, Grant said, “Request permission to take Sub-Lieutenant Salazar’s place, Captain.”

   “You’re going to be needed up here, Lieutenant.” Rising to his feet, he walked over to Orlova, and said, “The ship is yours until I get back. Take good care of her.”

   Looking around at the combat
damage, she replied with a smile, “I’ll try to keep her in her current condition.”

   “See that you do. Come on, Deadeye.”

   Marshall stepped into the elevator, watching Orlova move into the command chair under Grant’s gaze. It was obvious that Grant had hoped to benefit from her duty restriction, but he had no intention of placing someone he didn’t absolutely trust in command. Caine stepped in after him, and the door slid shut.

   “Are you sure this is a good idea, Danny?” she asked.

   He tapped for the quarters level, and said, “Sometimes the commander has to lead from the front. Besides, I want to get down where the action is for once.”

   “We’ve been having plenty of action lately. I doubt the Combined Chiefs will thank you for getting the Fleet involved in another war.”

   “They’d be less happy if I let the planet suffer under the tender mercies of the not-men, Deadeye. Maggie’s right. If we can bring this world into our alliance, so much the better.”

   “I hope so,” she replied. “All of this seems a lot like leaping before we look.”

   “We usually manage a soft landing.”

   “Maybe, but we’ve only got to mess it up once.” The door opened, and she added, “Come on. Let’s find out whether our dress uniforms still fit.”

  Chapter 2

   Salazar settled into the pilot’s couch beside a frowning Foster, running his fingers over the controls as the navigation computer updated its course plot. Sensor information was streaming in from the bridge, details on the atmosphere, gravity, geography of the planet below.

   “Preflight ready?” he asked.

   “Of course,” she said. “Sure you don’t want me to take it?”

   “I don’t want to get out of practice.” A light flashed on his panel, the airlock closing, and he turned to ask, “Everyone ready back there?”

   “All set,” Marshall said, throwing him a thumbs-up.