Battlecruiser Alamo: Cage of Gold

by Richard Tongue

   Moving over to him, Cooper said, “I don’t know, and I hope I never do. This is more than enough for me, as it is.”

   A group of the Neander started to break out in song, some of the Espatiers clapping and applauding, cheering them on, and Max said, “Songs of ancient heroes, words to keep the fear at bay.” He sighed, and said, “I don’t know the words.”

   “There’s nothing to stop you learning, is there?”

   He smiled, and replied, “I’m a bit too old to go back to school. Thirty summers. In the old days, that would make me one of the elders, wise leaders of the tribe, waiting for death to claim me.” Gesturing down at the crater, he continued, “And when all of this is done, I won’t even be a soldier any more. What need will we have for an army?”

   “There will always be a need…”

   “A few troops for parades, perhaps, or to service weapons. The outposts will be abandoned, the Fort reduced to a shell, and that is the way it should be. We’ve wasted too much on this pointless conflict, but it’s been my life.” Glancing at Cooper, he said, “I was thinking about asking you for a job.”

   “In the Fleet? In the Espatiers?”

   Gesturing at the ridge on his forehead, he asked, “Is this a problem?”

   “You aren’t a citizen,” Cooper said. “That’s the problem. Are you serious about this?”

   “I’m getting there. We’ve got maybe a hundred soldiers who are going to be out of work soon, and a planet that needs to reach for the stars. This could serve both our purposes very well.”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “This is way above my pay grade, Max. If we get through this, I’ll have a word with the Captain about it. You saved my life, down there on the crater, and though it seems strange to repay it by risking yours, I’ll go along with it. You realize there’s a good chance you’re signing up for a war.”

   His face breaking into a smile, he replied, “Ensign, I’ve been at war for fourteen years, since I first put on the uniform. Never any pitched battles, but lots of little skirmishes, guard duty, the occasional raid. And the waiting, waiting to see what the enemy will do, whether you will be permitted to see another dawn. None of this is exactly new to me.”

   “You think some of the others will feel the same way, then?”

   “I’m certain of it. At least a squad’s worth. We’ll need training, of course.”

   “We’re ready for that, and you’re going to have the edge on fieldcraft, ground operations.” He nodded, and continued, “Max, I’m on the way to being sold on this.”

   “I am pleased to hear it.” He shook his head, and said, “This world might have been the home of my ancestors, but I do not believe that it is truly mine. I don’t fit with my own people, or with my adopted people. Perhaps I would fit better elsewhere.”

   “Whatever happens, I can guarantee you passage back to the Confederation. Even if it isn’t in a uniform, I’m certain that something can be arranged.”

   “It will be good to get away from this accursed place. It is a trap, I believe. We never had any chance of developing true civilization, no chance of building the industry to walk among the stars as you have done. Now we can break our shackles and return to our true home. Tell me,” he asked, “Have you ever been to Earth?”

   “Never,” Cooper replied. “Hostile territory. The closest I ever did was a single trip to Luna, back when I was a kid. It looked so beautiful, hanging there in the sky, but we never got permission to go down. They don’t like granting it to Triplanetary citizens.”

   “A pity. I would like to see it, just once, to walk the lands of my ancestors. To see what they saw, thirty thousand years ago. Though I venture that it is all long since lost, anyway. I have read about your three World Wars.”

   “That was long ago. History, now. We’re past that.”

   “Are you? Your actions here on this planet might belie the truth of that statement.”

   “Perhaps.” He looked at the Neander, and said, "Five years ago, we thought your people extinct, dead tens of thousands of years. Now you walk among us once again, and perhaps that is the way it was always meant to be.”

   “You’re dancing with mysticism, there, Ensign.”

   “It’s always the same before a battle. The one taboo subject is the biggest one of all.”

   “Whether we will live through the dawn. We have a good battle plan, and reinforcements are on the way. I hope.”

   Glancing up at the sky, Cooper caught a glimpse of a fiery trail, racing across the horizon, heading for the crater. The two of them watched as it curved in, rapt by the sight.

   “Falling stars,” Cooper said. “They were always thought to bring good luck.”

   “There’s another one,” Max replied, pointing higher up. “Wait, two more. Your Gods appear to be truly blessing us today.”

   “Must be a meteor shower. Pretty big, as well, I think they might actually impact.”

   Bradley raced over, yelling, “Look at that!”

   “Yeah, we see it,” he replied. “Beautiful, isn’t it.”

   “And a fifth,” Max added. “A sixth.”

   A murmur of excitement raced across the camp as all eyes turned to look at the glorious display, a dozen flaming balls diving at the ground, trails of light forming an intricate pattern that seemed to be focusing on New Jamestown. A frown began to spread across Cooper’s face.

   “Are we sure this can’t be an attack?”

   “Who by?” Bradley asked.

   “We’ve got a not-man ship sitting out in the desert, looking back and watching while we do all the work,” he replied. “I wouldn’t put it past them to turn over the game.”

   “Fifteen now,” Max said. “Still more of them. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”

   “Neither have I,” Cooper said, his eyes still fixed on the display.

   “Parachute!” Vaughan yelled, binoculars raised to the sky. “Multiple chutes from the first fireball!”

   “Escape pods. My God,” Bradley said.

   Max turned, asking, “What is the problem?”

   “Things must be even worse up there than we’d thought. Maggie’s abandoned ship. That’s our crew coming down to the surface.”

   “Looks like they’re heading for the capital. With a hostile garrison waiting for them,” Cooper said. “They’re dropping into a civil war.”

   “Sir,” Vaughan said. “Activity down at the bottom of the pass. Looks like the guardsmen are moving out.”

   “What?” Max asked.

   Nodding, Cooper said, “They’re going for the more obvious threat. Pass the word to all unit commanders to stand their men to. To hell with waiting for dawn. This attack begins now.”

  Chapter 22

   Marshall sat on the bare floor of the improvised cell, looking first at Caine, then over to the locked door. Since they had been snatched from the streets and thrown into this empty room, they had seen no-one, heard nothing other than a low, rolling sound of turmoil from outside. Something was going on, and he wagered that one way or another, their stay was going to be short. They hadn’t taken them into Guard headquarters, but to an empty reservist depot, which gave the air of never having been used.

   “Do you think Pavel got away?” Caine asked.

   Nodding, Marshall replied, “He had enough of a head-start. I’m more worried about Foster, though if they’d captured her, she’d probably be in here with us.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “Running right for us. Crazy.”

   “She didn’t know, Deadeye. Just bad luck, that’s all. Two infiltration schemes crashing into each other.”

   A key rattled in the lock, and Mason stepped in, holding a chair. He placed it on the ground and sat on it as the door slammed shut again, looking at them sitting on the ground, shaking his head.

   “You two present me with quite a problem.”


   “I’m glad to hear it,” Caine replied.

   “I will accept your unconditional surrender.”

   Frowning, Marshall said, “We’re in your prison. I don’t think you need anything more than that.”

   “No, I mean the surrender of you, your crew, your ship, to our authority.”

   Breaking out in laughter, Marshall said, “You have to be out of your mind to think that I would consider that for a second.”

   “Your men are scattered, dispersed across the habitable area of the planet, and your ship is stranded in orbit, unable to flee the system. I offer you all a chance of life. After a brief period of re-education, you could make a living as farmers in the outer settlements, or perhaps in the military. Otherwise, you will die, and so will they, Captain. It is a mathematical certainty.”

   “Mathematical?” Caine asked.

   “Your Ensign Cooper is preparing to lead his Neander army in an attack upon the Guard. It will fail, and I will have no choice but to order the execution of your men. I do not want to waste resources of such caliber, Captain, but I will, if you force it.”

   “I’d wait until the battle is over to start taking advantage of your victory,” Marshall said. “Ensign Cooper is a highly experienced combat officer, and I have every confidence that he will triumph.”

   “The odds against him are far too great for that. Not to mention the fate of the rest of your crew.”

   “Then you are responsible for trapping Alamo in orbit,” Caine said.

   Standing up, Mason walked towards the window, and said, “Children. That’s all they are. They have to be protected, nurtured, until the day when they can fulfill their destiny and reach for the stars. Until then such influences as you bring are destructive to good order.”

   “What about the dead men in the gully?” Marshall asked. “Where does that fit in to your order, your glorious new world. You’re nothing but a murderer.”

   “None of those people are dead,” he replied. “I cannot expect you to understand. Still too primitive, to savage to comprehend.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I have assembled a firing squad in the courtyard. You will be executed in five minutes. There is no time for a last meal, or any significant last request, I am afraid. I know such things are the custom on your world.”

   “We gave up firing squads a long time ago,” Marshall said.

   “Of course, you are far more civilized now.”

   “What is the charge? Out of purely academic curiosity.”

   With a shrug, Mason replied, “Disturbing the peace, perhaps, or disrupting the public order. I have filed no charges, Captain, and I have no wish or need to camouflage what I am doing with legalistic mummery. You must surrender, or you must die, to serve the greater good. That is the God I serve, and there are times when He requires such a sacrifice.”

   Rising to his feet, Marshall said, “There will be a time, very soon, when you will learn the magnitude of the mistake you have made. My people will triumph here, will build a better world than you could ever have dreamed of. I don’t have to live to see it, I already can.”

   “Perhaps it is so, and perhaps I am wrong. In any event, if they labor to build such a world, they will find me their staunchest supporter. The guard will be here in a moment to take you to the place of execution. I grant you that time to prepare to face your end.”

   He pulled the door open, stepped out, and left them alone in the room. Marshall looked after him for a moment, shaking his head.

   “I don’t know,” he said. “Any last thoughts, Deadeye?”

   She smiled, then said, “Don’t worry too much, Danny. I knew when I signed up that this might be the way it ended up. To be fair, I didn’t expect to die in this specific way, but I always knew what the price might be.”

   “Still,” he said. “I’m sorry. We can try to get away if you want.”

   “Out into a hostile city, with a salvo of shots ringing after us? We’re out of options this time.”

   A guard appeared at the door, a rifle in his hand, ready to cover them should they try any sudden moves. Marshall briefly contemplated trying to jump him anyway, at worst advancing their death by a few moments, but there was nowhere to run, even if he had made the attempt. Instead, he walked calmly forward, Caine behind him, as the guard silently lead him into the courtyard outside.

   It looked like the set of a movie. A pair of posts raised, to which the two of them were ushered, and a line of six men at the far side, checking and preparing their rifles, ready to take the shot. Mason himself was standing to the left of them.

   “I haven’t changed my mind,” Marshall said, in response to the unasked question. “Nor will I, not under any circumstances.”

   “So be it,” the politician replied with a sigh. “This is your choice, not mine.”

   Their escort tied Marshall’s hands to the pole, leaving him facing the firing squad up ahead. He looked up at the sky, hoping for one last glimpse of Alamo, and instead was rewarded with the sight of a beautiful falling star, racing across the heavens, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Then a second, flying behind it.

   “Would you like a blindfold?” the guard asked, in a cold, emotionless voice.

   “No, thank you,” Marshall replied. “I’m enjoying the show far too much for that.”

   With a curt nod, the guard stepped away, well out of the line of fire. As the firing squad stood to attention, Marshall looked up, watching the fireballs multiplying. The display occupied him as the guardsman lined their rifles, ready to take the shots that would end their lives.

   “Any last words, Captain?” Mason asked.

   As he spoke, there was a loud roar from above, and Marshall saw a parachute opening from the nearest fireball, forming into the blackened lines of one of Alamo’s spherical escape pods. There were more, dozens of them, opening up all across the town, coming down all around them, even into the parade ground itself.

   The guardsmen scrambled into cover, Mason leading the way, leaving Marshall and Caine tied to their posts. Belatedly, two of them turned, lining up their rifles to take the shot, but before they could fire a loud roar erupted from above them, a pod using its landing jets to slow itself, dropping down between the two of them. A hatch cracked open, and a pair of cracks echoed around the parade ground, Marshall briefly wondering if they had managed to kill him after all before he looked up to see the two guardsmen collapsing to the ground, dead in their tracks.

   Grant jumped out of the pod, pistol in hand, followed by a pair of communications technicians who raced across to free them, looking around with an air of disbelief.

   “Good morning, Captain. I hadn’t expected the pleasure.”

   “I’ll be damned,” Marshall replied, rubbing his wrists as the technician cut him free. “Can you give me any sort of status report, Lieutenant? How did you know we were in trouble?”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “I’m afraid this is just a very well-timed evacuation, sir. Alamo’s trapped in an orbit that will lead to a burn-up in,” he glanced down at his watch, “less than three hours from now. All systems failed, and Senior Lieutenant Orlova gave the order to take to the escape pods.”

   “Where is she?”

   He sighed, then said, “Back up on Alamo, Captain. She refused to leave. As did Quinn and Nelyubov. I lost the draw.”

   “I see,” Marshall said, trying to mask his feelings. “Was there nothing that could be done to save the ship, Lieutenant?”

   “We tried everything we could think of, sir. With the last of our power we attempted an escape orbit, but something down on the planet is knocking everything out. Almost everything, anyway. It’s oddly selective.”

   “Explain.”

   “The escape pods launched, sir, and we were able to guide them down towards the crater with excellent accuracy. I decided it was best for us to stick together, and aim for the town. It seemed like a good i
dea at the time.”

   Caine smiled, stepping over to Marshall, and said, “Oh, it was, Lieutenant.”

   “Everything stopped working just before touchdown, and I mean everything. Communications, sensors, tracking, guidance, the whole system. I presume it was the same for the other pods, sir. Certainly I haven’t heard anything from anyone since then.” He pulled out his communicator, shaking his head. “Completely dead again.”

   One of the technicians raced over, and said, “Looks like the rest of those bastards have run off, sir. There’s no-one in the barracks that I can find.”

   “Consolidating,” Marshall said. “How many stayed behind, Grant?”

   “Six, sir.”

   “That means a hundred-plus people are descending into the town.” A rattle of gunfire punctuated his words, and he continued, “We’ve got to try and bring some order into this chaos, and we’ve got to do it now. The Territorial Guard,” he gestured at one of the corpses, “will try and pull into a defensive line and wipe us out.”

   “Everyone’s armed, sir, with standard sidearms,” Grant said. “We saw to that before we left. Not much ammunition, though.”

   Nodding, he replied, “Deadeye, take Anders,” he gestured at one of the technicians, “and make for the Fort. Try and make contact with whoever is in charge, and tell him that we’re going to need support. If you can get in touch with General Daniels, so much the better. It would be nice to at least but a veneer of legitimacy on this takeover.”

   Another rattle of gunfire came from the far side of town, and Marshall continued, “Grant, secure this building. Gather as many as you can, find whatever weapons are around, and put together a reserve force. I’ll send a runner if needed. If you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, use your judgment. Guardsmen are legitimate targets, soldiers are not, and you will know the difference.”