Battlecruiser Alamo: Cage of Gold

by Richard Tongue

   “On it, ma’am,” the communications technician joyously said, returning to his station.

   “Connection established,” Quinn said. “Power feed running now. I’ve got the shuttle reactor running a hundred and fifty percent, and I’m riding it manually.” He glanced across at a console, and said, “Running true, all nominal.”

   “I’m getting the extra thrust here,” Nelyubov said. “Gaining altitude again, coming up to orbital velocity.” Glancing at Kibaki, he added, “Attitude stable. Detaching ballute.”

   On the screen, the planet was a visible disc once again, the fires of re-entry a thing of the past as Alamo returned to the cool of space. Orlova watched the power feed, Quinn frantically switching overrides in and out in an attempt to keep the power flow stable, to give the engines as much thrust as they could. The clock ticked past the original deadline, and the acceleration rising.

   They didn’t need to pull completely clear, not on this burn. In half-an-hour, less, they’d have the power to maintain thrust indefinitely, enough to take them anywhere in the system. They could circularize their orbit then, as long as they had enough time beyond the atmosphere to do it.

   “Problems,” Quinn said. “Lots of red lights.”

   “Almost there,” Nelyubov said. “Two seconds. Please.”

   Each seemed to last for a century as the clock counted down, and as the engines stuttered and faltered, Kibaki turned with a beaming smile on his face. “Second burn in twenty-nine minutes, at which time we will be at an altitude of seventy-one miles. Well clear of the atmosphere.”

   “The not-man ship is still on an intercept course,” Spinelli said. “Three minutes, ten seconds to contact. They’re stepping on the acceleration pretty quickly.” He glanced to his right, then added, “Firing range for ninety seconds, estimated.”

   “Are they preparing to fire?”

   “I haven’t got the bandwidth to tell, ma’am. Too much damage in the early stages of the burn.”

   Nelyubov moved over to Tactical, sliding into the chair and looking up at the displays, saying, “Nothing’s working here.”

   Quinn shook his head, and replied, “Non-critical system. I’ve got to get the reactor on-line, and that’s taking everything I’ve got. You get life support, communications, sensors, and that’s about it for the next half-hour.”

   “Try and hail them, Weitzman,” Orlova said.

   The communications technician worked his console, then replied, “Nothing, ma’am. I know they’re receiving me, but I’m not getting any response to our messages.”

   “Two minutes, fifty seconds,” Spinelli said. “Still closing at full speed.”

   “We can’t even throw rocks at them,” Nelyubov replied.

   “What about the shuttle?” Kibaki asked.

   Quinn barked a laugh, and replied, “Until I take a good look at the reactor, it isn’t going anywhere. My guess is that we’re looking at eight man-hours work to get it operational again.”

   The course track popped into view on the main screen, two lines intersecting. The enemy ship didn’t seem to have any of the problems Alamo was experiencing, positioning itself on an escape trajectory to take it out of the system. Understandable enough, but they were going out of their way to go to close rendezvous. This wasn’t just a ballistic coincidence, it had to be intentional.

   “Get me the Captain,” she said.

   “He’s hanging on,” Weitzman said with a smile.

   Sliding a headset on, Orlova said, “Alamo to Marshall, do you read?”

   “Loud and clear, Maggie,” Marshall said.

   “We’re clear of the atmosphere, and ready for a full-power burn to stabilize our orbit in a little less than thirty minutes. Ship systems are coming back on, and the auxiliary reactor should be working in plenty of time.”

   “You don’t sound that happy about it.”

   With a sigh, she said, “The not-man ship launched about when our systems came back. They’re on an intercept course, and we don’t have any defensive systems functioning. We’re going to be in the firing line for,” she glanced up at the screen, “forty-one seconds, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.”

   Marshall paused, then said, “If you want to abandon ship…”

   “I’d have done it already. Shuttle Three ought to be operational now, sir. Can you get a damage control team ready?”

   “Lieutenant Grant is finishing up preflight right now, should be with you in about ten minutes. Do the best you can, Maggie.”

   “The surface?”

   “Is secured for the moment. Don’t worry about us, we’re fine down here. I know you’re about to get busy, so call me back when it’s over. Understood?”

   “Aye, sir. Alamo out.”

   “Two minutes dead,” Spinelli said.

   “Great choice of words, Spaceman,” Kibaki replied.

   Orlova sat back, glancing ruefully at the weapons readouts before switching her attention back to the display. As it approached, the not-man ship that they had come all this way to find grew larger and larger, more information gathering into the databanks. Two missile tubes, no sign of any other armament. There was a limit to how much damage it could do.

   She tensed herself for a course change, waiting for the announcement that it had altered its trajectory in a bid to gain more time for the battle. Alamo was a wide-open target, easy pickings. The seconds ran down, racing past, and her frustration mounted. By all rights, they ought to be able to wipe them from the sky.

   “Thirty seconds to firing,” Spinelli said. “Still no sign of change to target aspect.”

   “No response to signals,” Weitzman added.

   “What would we say if they did reply?” Kibaki asked.

   With a smile, Orlova replied, “I’d tell them to surrender.”

   She looked around the bridge, watched the crew continue with their work, calm as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. At least they had to luxury of doing something. All she could do was wait, as the few remaining seconds trickled away.

   “Firing range,” Spinelli said. “No change to target aspect.”

   “Are you sure?” Orlova asked.

   “As sure as I can be,” he replied. “They’re maintaining course and speed, and I’m not picking up any energy spikes.”

   “A signal,” Weitzman said.

   “About time,” Orlova said. “Put them on.”

   A blurred image appeared on the screen, distortion blurring any detail. Orlova turned with a questioning stare at Weitzman, who shrugged in response. Their work, then, to keep their secrets.

   “Alamo, today we are choosing to spare your lives, as a token of appreciation for the efforts of your crew in freeing our ship. Know this, though. Thule is ours, a part of our territory, with people who have willingly submitted to our rule. Any further interference will be taken as an act of war.”

   Orlova replied, “Unidentified ship, I will simply tell you this. The Triplanetary Confederation does not respond well to threats, and does not abandon its allies. I recommend you tell your leaders that we are more than ready to defend ourselves against any provocation, and cite our last two encounters with your people as proof.”

   Was there a trace of a smile, there? “I would not expect any other response. May your journey home be swift.”

   “Likewise. Alamo out.” She looked at Nelyubov, and said, “They’ve drawn a line in the sand.”

   “One that we’ve already committed ourselves to crossing. This is going to make for some interesting times.”

   “Out of firing range, ma’am,” Spinelli said. “They’re on course for the hendecaspace point. I have Shuttle Three now, on positive track for docking in five minutes.”

   “Thank you, Spaceman. Secure from alert conditions.” With a deep sigh, she said, “Looks like the danger is over, at least for now.”

&nbs
p; Chapter 28

   Salazar forced his eyes open, struggling to focus as he looked around the room. There was something strangely familiar about it, recognizable equipment scattered about, but the view from the window was new to him, looking out across a hive of activity, a building being constructed across the street. Marching past him he could see a group of Espatiers, led by Corporal Vaughan, and he did a double-take when he saw that most of them were Neander, wearing Triplanetary uniforms.

   The door opened, and Harper walked in, clutching a datapad in her hands. She turned, said something quietly to a guard standing outside, then made her way over to his bed, sitting carefully by his side. He tried to move, to sit up, but his movements were restricted by a tangle of cables.

   “Don’t try,” she said. “Doctor Duquesne went to a lot of work to patch you up.” He squinted at the rank insignia on her lapel, and she glanced down at it, adding, “Yes, it’s official now. Lieutenant Harper, and let the world know. It doesn’t matter, I guess. Captain Marshall ordered it as a punishment.”

   “Your promotion is a punishment?” he croaked.

   “Hell yeah. They might start asking me to take responsibility for something. Fate worse than death. I’d rather leave that to people like you and Foster.”

   “How,” he spluttered, and she handed him a glass of water, pouring a quick swig down his throat. “How is she?”

   “Better than you, actually. They sent her up to Alamo yesterday. The Doc was reluctant to expose you to the acceleration until the last minute, but that’s almost here.” She gestured at the window, and said, “You missed quite a show. Captain Marshall promising to bring back transports loaded with supplies, the Acting Governor pledging brotherhood, lots of marching and parades.”

   Forcing a smile, he said, “Sounds boring as hell.”

   “That about sums it up.” She looked at the floor, and said, “About what happened in the tunnels…”

   “I’m sorry,” he said. “I probably wrecked the damn thing, but…”

   “It was the right thing to do. I’d got a little too close to the problem.” She shook her head, and said, “I’ve spent most of the last week…,”

   “I’ve been in here a week?”

   “Yes, and kindly stop interrupting. I’ve spent most of the last week trying to untangle the mess, without much luck. At least we’ve got the crystal, and we know that it matches the fragment we’ve already got.” Shaking her head, she said, “We’ve got to come back here, anyway. There are a lot of unanswered questions.”

   “I’m sorry too,” Salazar said. “I shouldn’t have knocked you out.”

   With a smile, she replied, “Don’t worry about it. I’d probably have done something similar in your circumstances. Surprised the hell out of the rescue party, trying to work out what had happened to me. Downright embarrassing when I woke up.” There was a knock on the door, and Captain Marshall stepped in.

   “He’s awake?”

   “And talking. Looks like the Doc did a good job.”

   Nodding, Marshall said, “Shuttle Three’s heading back up to Alamo in thirty minutes, if you want to supervise the unloading of the computer equipment yourself.”

   Rising to her feet, she replied, “I probably should. Catch you upstairs, Pavel.”

   She walked out of the room, and Marshall took her seat, asking, “How are you feeling?”

   “Everything itches.”

   “That’s pretty normal. We’ll be unhooking you from all of this stuff in a little while, then plugging you back into everything on Alamo. I’m afraid you’re going to be riding home in sickbay.”

   “I’m just glad to be here, sir.”

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “You lost a hell of a lot of blood, Sub-Lieutenant. It was pretty touch and go, but I thought you should know that I’m putting you up for a Shield.” He pulled a box out of his pocket, and said, “Acting Governor Daniels has awarded you a Medal of Merit, as well.”

   “Thanks, sir.”

   “I understand it is pretty prestigious.”

   “Harper said we were coming back, sir.”

   “We’ve got to, Sub-Lieutenant. Far too much unfinished business down here.” He pointed at the construction site, and said, “In two weeks, with luck, that will be a hydroponics plant. We’ve given them all the equipment, the plans, and got them started. Long-term, that’s the only answer to their problems, but it’s just the start of what they need.”

   “And the not-men?”

   “Their ship left the system eight days ago. I can guess why.”

   “Reinforcements,” Salazar replied with a painful nod.

   Sighing, Marshall replied, “Which means we’re going to have to bring up reinforcements of our own. Not to mention try and get Alamo back into some sort of fighting condition. We’re racing home, one jump back to Yeager Station, and I’ve got to get a relief force organized. Then there is the problem of the androids.”

   Frowning, he said, “I thought we’d knocked them out, sir?”

   “We did, but despite having teams searching the plateau with a fine tooth-comb, we can’t find where the hell they came from. Harper’s gone over the tunnels twice, and we can’t find where they were manufactured. The implications of that worry the hell out of me.”

   Looking out of the window, Salazar asked, “Will the Combined Chiefs authorize all of this, sir? I mean, if we’re going to make a full effort, that means an orbiting station, a garrison, technological transfer.”

   “Lots of paperwork,” Marshall replied, “but what choice do they have? We can’t just cede this planet to the not-men, and if there is another group out there wielding humaniform androids, we’ve got something else to worry about. The only place to gather the intelligence we’re going to need is right here.”

   With a thin smile, Salazar said, “By the way, sir, I’m sorry for getting you captured.”

   Chuckling, Marshall said, “Don’t worry, Sub-Lieutenant. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a habit of it, but it all worked out for the best in the end. Your mission was more important than mine. Though you should have heard Foster when she woke up. I’ve never seen someone that embarrassed.”

   “She did fine, sir. They both did.”

   “I know. Harper’s after-action report was quite comprehensive. Rather surprised me, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her.” He looked out of the window, and said, “We’re going to be coming back to a war, Sub-Lieutenant. It won’t just be a relief expedition. There are still tribes up in the hills, and our orbital reconnaissance shows them massing, and some worrying signs that they’ve been bootstrapped by the not-men. They’re determined to fight a war for this planet.”

   “Do you need a volunteer to stay behind, sir?”

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “I wouldn’t be picking one still in hospital. Lieutenant Race is remaining behind as liaison, as well as a squad of Espatiers.”

   “I saw…”

   “Ah, our new recruits. Ensign Cooper and General, sorry, Governor Daniels’ idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I’m pretty sure the Senate will agree. This planet’s going to have to join the Confederation anyway. We’ve got about thirty or forty of the colonists coming back with us as well, going for technical training.”

   “Then we did some good, sir.”

   “Yes we did,” Marshall replied. “Try and relax, Sub-Lieutenant. Doctor Duquesne will be along in a few minutes to arrange your transfer up to the ship. You’ve done your job for the moment.” He paused, then said, “One more thing. We’re making a few changes to the command structure on Alamo. I’m expecting some new officers when we reach Yeager Station. You’re no longer Alpha Watch Officer.”

   Nodding, Salazar said, “I was expecting that, sir. You’ll want someone more experienced for the post.”

   “You are Security Officer, effective from when you resume your duties.
I’m bumping Frank Nelyubov to Assistant Tactical.”

   “You’re giving me a department, sir? I’m not that good a hacker.”

   “I know,” he replied. “I saw what was left of that computer.” As Salazar’s face reddened, he continued, “We’re redefining the role, somewhat. Protecting our hardware is going back under Systems, and you’ve met our official Intelligence Officer.”

   “Harper? She’s going to love that.”

   He shrugged, and said, “She’s been doing the job for the last four months. The only difference is now I’m able to make it official.”

   “You might have a point. What will my job be, then, sir?”

   “Since you’ve joined the crew, you’ve demonstrated something of a talent for dealing with, shall we say, unorthodox situations. I think it makes sense to make use of that. You’ll be taking the lead on liaison work, boarding parties, landing team duties. Wherever you are needed, really.”

   Shaking his head, Salazar said, “Sounds like a true opportunity to excel, sir.” The two of them laughed, “Thank you, sir. I’m honored.”

   “It’ll be a lot of high-risk missions, Sub-Lieutenant. You don’t have to accept if you don’t want to. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding a good posting anywhere in the Fleet.”

   Nodding, he replied, “I like to keep life interesting, sir. I’d like to take the job.”

   “Good. We’ll work out the details of how it will work when you get back up to Alamo. Duquesne said that she wouldn’t object to visitors, so we might as well make them working visits. As long as you are up to it.”

   “I’m fine, sir.”

   Looking at the array of medical equipment filling the room, Marshall said, “I think you might be a little delirious, Sub-Lieutenant.” Rising to his feet, he added, “Start thinking about your team. We’re piloting a new concept, and I want to make sure we get it right. Within reason, I’ll go along with your recommendations.”

   “I will, sir.”

   “Good.” He glanced at the door, then said, “I’d better get out of here before the medics arrive. Not a word to the good Doctor about this, I promised I wouldn’t bother you with it.”