“Never mind complementing the designer, can you destroy it?”
Looking up at Salazar, she said, “Pavel, this computer is ten thousand years old, and it’s operational. We can’t just smash it, tear it to pieces. What we could learn from it could advance our own technology by centuries. The data preservation technology alone would be extraordinarily valuable.”
The rhythmic pounding resumed, and Salazar said, “We don’t have time for this. In a matter of minutes all of us are going to be captured.” He looked at the computer, and said, “This is a seek-and-destroy mission, not an archaeological expedition.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Give me time. I think I can shut it down, preserve it for future study.” Her fingers moved across the keyboard, terminals lighting up to display data, some of it in strange pictographs, other in formats he recognized from his archeotechnology classes at the Academy. “The security measures, most of them will be easy to get past.”
“How long?”
“Half an hour.”
“We don’t have anything like that much time. Find out where the control circuits are, and I’ll destroy them. Either with the last bullets in my gun or with my bare hands if I must. We’ve got to shut down those damn androids.”
Pointing at a menu, she said, “I can take control of them, given time. Someone else did this with a lot less to work with…”
“But a lot more time at their disposal,” Salazar interrupted.
“I won’t do it,” she said. “Go back to the door, and buy me some time.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I am the senior officer here.”
Her eyes rapt by the computer, she pulled out her identification card, and said, “Actually, I am. So, Sub-Lieutenant, you will go to the door, and hold them off as long as you can, while I prioritize the neutralization of the androids.”
He snatched the card, scanned it, and said, “This is fake.”
“My commission was classified. I’m declaring this a sufficient emergency to inform you.” Her hands still racing across the controls, she continued, “This is too important to the future of the Confederation.”
“What about the future of this planet, or Foster. She’s hurt, badly.”
“You’d better get back to the door.”
Nodding, Salazar turned back to Foster, and said, “I’d better give her something else for the pain.” He opened his medikit, flicking through the painkillers, and found what he was looking for. Something with the happy side effect of temporary unconsciousness. In one quick, deliberate move, he pulled out the hypodermic, quietly stepped behind Harper, and injected her in the neck.
She jerked as the needle pierced her skin, turned, and muttered, “You bastard,” as she slumped to the ground. He grabbed her, gently lowering her to the ground.
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he said, “but I can’t take the chance. You can court-martial me as soon as you wake up. I need to make sure we’re both here for you to have the chance.”
As the hacker began to snore, he looked more closely at the control computers, trying to bring back the memories of long-ago classes in computer design. He’d never intended to specialize in engineering, his eyes always on fighter pilot training, and he was paying the price for that now.
Ignoring the blinking cursor on the screen, he looked at the cables, trying to find something that looked like a transmitter. The unit appeared self-contained, reliant on internal power, so the broadcast unit had to be built into the device. For a second, he paused. Harper was right about the potential value of the computer. The sound of low grinding from the door, the androids deploying their cutters one again, brought him back to reality.
If he’d had one single grenade, this would be easy. Four bullets were worthless, unless he knew precisely what he was aiming at. He looked down at Harper, cursing under his breath, but there was no way he would have been able to convince her in the time. Gently, he took her toolkit out from her hands, and unscrewed one of the inspection ports at random, placing the plate on the floor. His reward was another tangle of wires, and he pondered simply pulling them out at random, hoping for the best.
With a shrug, he reached in, tugged at one, and a shock raced down his arm and through his body, snapping him to with a jolt as he released it. He took a deep breath, wiping his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat. That wasn’t an answer.
Dropping to his knees, he peered inside, holding his torch to get a better look. There was something inside, something strangely familiar, something that he recalled from Yeager Station. A fragment of crystal nestled at the rear, engulfed in a forest of components and readouts. He glanced down at Harper and shook his head. It couldn’t be that simple.
Trying to reach in, he realized that it wasn’t. Trying to force past all the components was too difficult, the gap between the cables too tight. He could almost swear that it got tighter the harder he pushed, as though something was actively trying to prevent him from withdrawing it. His fingers brushed the edges of the crystal, but he couldn’t get a grip on it.
The whining from the door was growing louder the longer he worked, and he swore he could see steam rising from it, the heat building. No matter how tough the alloy, sooner or later they were bound to get through.
He reached in again, leaning as far forward as he could, his hand brushing up against cables and connectors, small, short shocks running through him. He paused for a second, his eyes widening. No device would be build so badly as to cause such shocks by accident. This was some sort of a defense mechanism, and he was triggering it. If he pulled out the crystal, anything might happen.
Shaking his head, he pressed on. He knew what would happen if he didn’t withdraw the crystal, and a lot of people were counting on him. With one last effort, he managed to get his hand around the base, his fingers starting to work the clips that held it in position. The first one came off easily, the second less so. The rattling from the door grew louder and louder, a gap appearing by the wall. Smoke was billowing into the room now, settling around the ceiling, an ever-growing cloud.
As his numb fingers worked the third clip, he felt rather than saw the door bursting open, the reverberations running through the floor, and he heard the sound of marching boots heading towards him. They wouldn’t shoot indiscriminately, and he knew that he only had seconds left, the clip stuck. The crystal rocked back and forth on his housing, slowly coming loose, and as the first bullet ripped into his flesh, he yanked it clear, waves of pain running through his body.
He waited for the sound of more cracks flying through the air, more bullets smashing into him, but nothing happened. Gasping for breath, he looked at the androids at the door, all of them standing motionless, rifles fixed in their hands, facing forwards. With an intense effort, he struggled to his feet, the crystal still in his hand, and staggered forward, pushing at one of the red-uniformed machines.
It dropped to the floor with a clatter, and he breathed a sigh of relief, before toppling back to the floor, crying out in pain as he landed on his wounded arm. The medikit was on the far side of the room where he had left it, well out of reach, and he struggled to remember how long the sedative he had given Harper would last. Hours, more than likely, and even when she woke up, she’d have to pick her way out of the tunnels before she could return with help.
His breathing grew shallower as blood trickled down his arm. He reached over with his other arm, trying to improvise a tourniquet, something to stop the bleeding, but the effort was too much for him, and he gasped with exhaustion. Struggling to focus across the room, he saw Foster, her breathing steadier than his now. She was more likely to live through all of this than he was.
With no other choice, he settled back on the floor, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. If the price of ending all of this, of defeating the androids and saving the ship, was his life, that seemed like a reasonable trade. He looked
at Harper with a pang of regret, then up at the computer, now cold and silent, wires tangled out where his hand had forced his way through. Maybe she could put it together again, get the salvaged information she craved. Maybe, one day, she’d forgive him.
His eyes began to close, drifting in and out of focus, and the room seemed to fade in and out of reality. He felt cold, shivers racking his body, and every breath became difficult. A pounding noise began to echo around in his skull, and it took him a few minutes to realize that it was footsteps approaching, disappointment filling his soul. After everything he had down, more of the machines were coming.
Wrapping his hand around his pistol, he raised it to limply cover the door. Four bullets, four androids. Assuming he could muster the strength to pull the trigger. Figures moved into the room, blurry and indistinct, but before he could even twitch his finger, a firm hand took the gun from him.
“Sub-Lieutenant?” an oddly familiar voice said.
“He’s shot,” another, harsher voice added. “Foster as well, but she looks a lot more stable. Garland, you look at her, I’ll take Salazar.”
“What about Harper?” a different voice asked.
“Out cold. She can wait.” Rough hands took his arm, the pin-prick of injections in his side. “It’s bad, but loss of blood is the major problem. I’ll start transfusions, until we can get him up to the hospital.”
“Will he live?”
“If we’d been another fifteen minutes, there wouldn’t have been a chance.”
A tall figure loomed forward, and said, “Salazar, this is Captain Marshall. You did it. All the androids are shut down, all across the planet, as far as we can tell. You stopped them.”
“I’m not sure he can hear you.”
“I hear,” Salazar said, his voice a spluttering ruin. “I hear. Harper, Foster…”
“Our problem now, Sub-Lieutenant. Try and rest.”
“Aye…,” he replied, finally letting the black clouds that had been fighting for him win their war, slipping into slumber.
“Sweet dreams, Sub-Lieutenant,” Marshall said. “I think you've earned them.”
Chapter 27
“How long, Frank?” Orlova asked.
Glancing at his watch, Nelyubov replied, “I’d say we’ll be coming into atmospheric interface in about three minutes. Depending on the breaks, we burn up in six to eight.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Even if by some miracle we don’t, we’d only crash a couple of minutes later.”
“Think any bits will make it to the surface?” Kibaki asked.
“Probably,” Quinn replied. “We’re certainly large enough. It’s even possible that some of them will be recognizable as being part of the ship. Some archaeologist in a few thousand years will have a great time rifling through our remains.”
“There’s still time for you to head down to the surface,” Orlova said. “It’ll be wild ride down, but the escape pod shielding should be up to the job.”
“Are you going?” Nelyubov asked.
“No.”
“Then I’m not either.”
“Waiting for a miracle?”
“Maybe.”
Settling down in the chair, Orlova looked forward at the viewscreen, her hands on her arm rests. She glanced around the bridge, crewmen ready at their posts, then looked back to watch the stars on the screen.
The stars on the screen.
“Jack, something’s happening!”
“I’m on it!” he said. “Power distribution just snapped back on. I have systems access again. Main computer is back on-line, as of five second ago!”
“The helm is answering controls!” Nelyubov said. “Thrusters working, fuel transfer systems coming back.” A dull glow filled the lower section of the screen, growing stronger by the second. “I need engines.”
“Working,” Quinn said. “I need to cross-feed the power from the laser cannon to the engine bank. Thirty seconds at most.”
“Sensors coming back,” Spinelli said. “I have first report. I think Lieutenant Nelyubov was being somewhat optimistic. We’re already in the upper limits of the atmosphere, estimated burn-up in three minutes.” On cue, alarms started to resound across the bridge, systems coming back up to find the dire situation their inaction had placed them in.
“Deploy ballute,” Orlova ordered. “We’ll need all the help we can get. Jack, where are my engines?”
“Heat shield deploying,” Kibaki said.
“Coming now. Frank, try your control, you should have some power. I can give you two minutes at full thrust. Any more and we won’t have enough to carry over the ship systems to reactor start.”
“Course computed,” Nelyubov said. “Nothing complicated, just a full-power burn for high orbit. I can’t make the hendecaspace point…”
“Punch it!” Orlova said, and a dull, welcoming roar began to sound as Nelyubov ran the engines up to full power, bypassing half a dozen safety controls to speed their way through the upper atmosphere, adjusting the angle for maximum advantage. A series of loud reports echoed through the hull, and she turned to Quinn with alarm.
“Ballute deployment,” he said. “It’ll help, but it won’t save us. Not enough time to get it fully deployed.”
“Right now I’ll settle for minimizing the damage to the hull. Weitzman, what’s the story with communications?”
“Internal systems working fine, and external was just coming back before we entered the plasma sheath. We’ll have to wait until we pull out of it, one way or another.”
“Maggie,” Nelyubov said. “I need a decision. I think we’ve got a chance of pulling out of this dive, but I know that I can manage a survivable landing. It’ll wreck the ship, but with the ballute in position we can make it down to the deck.”
“Go for orbit,” she said, the decision taking a fraction of a second. “We won’t do any good scattered on the ground.”
“I thought you’d say that,” he replied. “Course settling in. Ninety-five seconds remaining in the burn. Apogee rising steadily, perigee coming up.”
Kibaki flicked a switch, and the viewscreen divided into two, one portion showing the view of the planet below, the ground now beginning to race past, the screen enveloped in flickering flame, the other showing the course projection, the ellipse slowly rising, pulling away from the planet. Nelyubov slowly turned the ship, dipping the nose to gain speed, to kick the ship back up to orbital velocity.
“Eighty seconds remaining,” he said.
“First systems report,” Quinn said. “Everything’s coming back, slowly. Outer hull temperature is beyond tolerances, we’re sustaining a lot of damage to the sensor and communication arrays, but nothing we can’t fix ourselves if we have to. Electronic defense systems are operative, but as far as I can see, nothing’s attacking us.”
“That’s a nice change,” Kibaki replied.
Orlova watched the display, Alamo’s course slowly curving up, alarms still echoing around the bridge. Her systems monitor was giving her happier news, everything flicking from red to amber, one after another. With a loud whir, the air recirculators began to kick in, and a blast of warm air hit her in the face, the cold fading away as she shrugged out of her heavy jacket.
Nelyubov rode his console, making second-by-second tweaks, keeping the ship on the best possible course, every ounce of thrust taking them further and further from destruction. The ballute was taking the brunt of the damage, ripped and torn, tatters of the fabric falling away, leaving a blue-black trail as they ascended back to the heavens.
“Threat warning!” Spinelli said. “Not-man vessel has left the surface, and is on an intercept course. Five minutes until closest contact.”
“Weitzman?” Orlova asked, but he shook his head.
“Not yet, ma’am.”
“Initiating reactor start-up,” Quinn said. “Half an hour, and I’ll h
ave the emergency reactors back on line.”
“I just checked shuttle systems,” Kibaki added. “Shuttle One is good to go, all systems green.”
Shaking his head, Nelyubov said, “I don’t have news that good. We’re falling short. Ten more seconds of thrust would do it. Jack, can you spare anything?”
“If we lose power again, I’m not sure we can get it back. Not with the batteries drained to nothing.”
“Fifteen seconds of thrust, then. We’re gaining altitude, but unless we can do something, all that will happen is that we’ll crash into a different part of the planet.”
“Before you ask,” Quinn said, “There’s no way I can advance reactor start-up. I’m tearing the manual in two as it is, and your message queue is full of safety waivers for you to countersign when you get a moment.”
Shaking his head, Kibaki said, “So damn close.”
“Wait a minute,” Orlova said. “You said Shuttle One was ready to go. How ready?”
“All systems nominal.”
“Does that include the reactor?”
Nodding, he replied, “It's designed for a fast start-up. I thought we might need it.”
“And it’s hooked into Alamo’s systems?”
Turning to face her, Quinn said, “I see what you are getting it. The yield is a thousandth of Alamo’s power, though.”
“All we need is ten seconds.”
“There’s a good chance we’ll burn it out trying.”
“What difference will that make? We’ll have all the time we need to fix it when we punch back into orbit.”
His hands running across his controls, Quinn replied, “Reversing umbilicals. Frank, you’re going to get some instability, so watch for it.”
“Five seconds,” he said. “Cutting engine thrust to half. I’ll find it easier to ride it that way.”
“Signal!” Weitzman said. “From the surface! I have the Captain!”
Turning with a smile, Orlova said, “Tell him I’ll call again in a few minutes, and give him a status report.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Cage of Gold Page 22
