Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament

by Richard Tongue

   “Did it show that badly?”

   “Like a beacon,” he said. “We're all going through the same things in our heads, though. I wouldn't reproach yourself for that.”

   “I always used to wonder why Captain Marshall spent so much time in his office,” she said. “It was only when I got a command of my own that I realized. Better to sit and worry in here than to infect the rest of the senior staff.”

   “And usually, you seem to remember that pretty well,” he said.

   “This is worse than usual,” she replied with a sigh. “Never mind the current situation. I have faith in Salazar and Harper. They'll find some way to get out whatever trouble they are in, and if there is any fuel to find, they'll bring it.”

   “And if there isn't?”

   “Then we start refueling here,” she said. “We've managed to top up our tanks for an additional jump while we've been waiting, and we just finish the job. If Testament Station will welcome the Neander, then we drop them off there.”

   Nodding, Nelyubov added, “Then we start our trip home, with the intelligence we've managed to gather so far, and come back with reinforcements.”

   “Will we?” she replied. “So far our expedition can hardly be called a success, Frank. We've learned the location of one world that we drove them from, a minor extraction facility, and have managed to comprehensively botch first contact with the Interstellar Collective.” Shaking her head, she said, “Aside from that, we aren't bringing much back.”

   “Anything is better than nothing, Maggie,” he said. “We knew going in that we were rolling the dice, and so did Captain, I mean Commodore, Marshall. Success on the first try was always uncertain, but we've got the location of several potential forward outposts. So we move on. Set up a fuel depot closer to the frontier, and explore from there.”

   “Someone,” she said. “Not us. Next time it will be Gorski on Gilgamesh, or another battlecruiser. We've had our shot, Frank, and we've failed.”

   “There's no shame in that, Maggie. To hell with those bastards in the Collective. I don't think there was a realistic chance they were ever going to be more than temporary allies of convenience. They're just another Cabal, with a different human sub-species in charge.” With a smile, he added, “We've made a difference there, as well.”

   “Yes,” she said. “We've probably doomed them all. What sort of a defense can they put against the Xandari when they're fighting an insurrection at home?”

   “Maybe we can get the Task Force into position in time.”

   “To fight the wrong war,” she said. “That wasn't what we came out here to do.”

   “That doesn't mean it doesn't need doing,” he replied. With a sigh, he added, “This isn't like you, Maggie. You don't usually second-guess yourself, not like this.”

   “What else do I have to do?” she asked, tapping a control, bringing up a projection of local space. “We've done all the repairs we can to Alamo without a shipyard, and the Neander won't let us do anything on Ausori. The missile screen is ready to go, and we've got picket sensor probes in position. Aside from catching up on the paperwork, what's left?”

   “Nothing,” he replied. “The curse of a competent crew. Those who weren't veterans when they left certainly are now. They've not had much choice but to learn, and quickly. The same for the officers.” Shaking his head, he said, “Hard to believe that Pavel Salazar was a Midshipman a year ago.”

   “He's grown up fast,” she replied. “So have they all. I'm thinking of a reason to promote Foster, as well. We're still weaker than I like in the middle ranks.” Shaking her head, she said, “And we need more midshipmen, as well. Once we get into hendecaspace, I want every department to put together a list, and we'll arrange for some examinations. Armstrong and Maqua are a good start, but I think we can get up to four.”

   “I'll see to it,” Nelyubov replied. “Though if we're going home so quickly, is that necessary?”

   She paused, then said, “Perhaps not, but I don't think it does any harm to be prepared.” With a smile, she said, “Damn it, you got me.”

   “There's plenty of little administrative stuff to worry about. You're getting trapped in the bigger picture, and that's an occupational hazard for a commanding officer. Grand strategy will take care of itself, at least for the moment.” He pulled out a datapad, and said, “Have you seen Powell's latest? A new route home from Testament Station, four jumps to take us back to explored space.”

   “I saw it,” she replied. “I'm not happy with the idea of refueling in UN territory.”

   “I don't know, I hear good things about the nightclubs on Sutter's World,” he replied. “It might be something to consider to maximize our return. From Sutter's, it's only three jumps to Thule, and we're in safe grounds for the last one of those in any case.”

   Nodding, she said, “Have Armstrong take a look at the data and provide a full report for presentation to the senior staff. It'll be good practice for her in any case.”

   “Will do,” he replied.

   A chime sounded on her desk, and she picked up a headset, saying, “Captain here.”

   “Cantrell, ma'am. We're picking up some unusual activity over on Ausori. Lots of people out on the hull, dozens of them, and I think they're running some tests on the primary engine. Spinelli's picked up half a dozen energy spikes in the last two minutes, and Senior Lieutenant Quinn is going over the numbers now.”

   “Your guess, Lieutenant?” she asked.

   “I'd say they're getting ready to move out, ma'am. Putting some final stress patches on the hull to keep it together for maximum acceleration.” She paused, and said, “Even at full power, overriding the usual safeguards, we wouldn't have any trouble catching them. They aren't trying to get away from us.”

   “They're trying to get themselves ready for battle,” Orlova finished. “Have you tracked down that missile launch site yet?”

   With a sigh, Cantrell replied, “I have, ma'am, but taking it out isn't going to be an option, not from our end. The bastards have placed it two compartments away from the primary nursery. I can't guarantee destroying it without collateral damage.”

   Closing his eyes, Nelyubov said, “My God, to use their own children as human shields.”

   “They're safe enough, Frank,” Orlova said, with a deep sigh. “They know we'd never consider launching a surgical strike, not at that location.”

   “I was thinking of the Xandari,” he replied. “If we can trace those missiles back to their source, so can they, and I don't think they'd have any compunction about destroying them.”

   “Ma'am,” Weitzman said, breaking in. “I have Captain Aussketi for you. Should I patch you though?”

   “Wait one, Spaceman,” she replied, turning to Nelyubov. “I don't imagine this is going to be good news.” Rubbing her forehead, she said, “Put her through.”

   The face of the Neander appeared on the wall display, looming down at her. Orlova fought the urge to accuse her of treachery, to tell her everything she had learned, but the time to act had not yet arrived.

   “Captain Orlova, I thought I would tell you that the trial of Sub-Lieutenant Bradley and her accomplice is over.”

   Her eyes widened, and she replied, “When did it start?”

   “An hour ago. Her statements were read, as were those of the witnesses. The testimony was very compelling.” She paused, then added, “In absentia, Ensign Cooper was convicted on three counts of murder. Sub-Lieutenant Bradley and the renegade Segna were convicted of conspiracy to commit. The penalty is death.”

   Closing her eyes, Orlova said, “I want both of them transferred to Alamo immediately.”

   “They have been found guilty of extremely serious crimes,” Aussketi said.

   “In a sham trial,” Nelyubov barked.

   Taking a deep breath, Aussketi continued, “I was contacting you to arrange for the disposition of her body.”<
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   Orlova's face grew pale as she asked, “Is she dead?”

   “Not yet. The execution is scheduled for fifteen minutes from now. I have recorded a final message from her to the crew, which will be transmitted shortly. Normally, the bodies of convicted murderers are simply cremated and scattered into space, but in the interest of normalizing relations between our peoples, I am willing to simply transfer it to Alamo, so that you can undertake whatever customs are normal.”

   Aussketi was goading her. The look in her eyes left no room for doubt. She knew that Orlova would act, that she had no choice, and for some reason, she was fighting to bring that about. There was a trap buried here, somewhere. Not that it mattered.

   “For one final time, I will ask you to transfer Sub-Lieutenant Bradley and Segna to our custody.”

   “And again, I say no.”

   Taking a deep breath, Orlova said, “Then I see no further point in this conversation. Or in any other. Alamo out.” She paused for a moment, looking out at the starfield, her eyes distant while Nelyubov waited patiently by her side. Finally, taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet and wordlessly stepped out onto the bridge.

   “Ausori is continuing to maneuver,” Cantrell reported, turning from the holotable. “I've prepared a firing solution if you want to take out the main engines. I think we can do it without causing anything other than superficial damage with the laser.”

   “Never mind that now. Resume your station.” She looked around the bridge, and said, “Battle stations.”

   Nelyubov glanced at Cantrell, who flicked a switch and said, “Tactical to all hands. Report to your battle stations. I say again, all hands to battle stations. This is no drill. Department heads to transmit system reports to the bridge on the double.”

   “Warming up main engines,” Armstrong said, glancing back at the elevator doors as though expecting someone to usurp her role at any moment. “Preparing random walk evasion pattern.”

   “Laser radiators deployed,” Cantrell added. “Charging cycle under way. Missile fabricators coming on-line, salvo ready in thirty seconds.”

   “Contact Ensign Cooper,” she said, turning to Weitzman. “No scramble, full broadcast transmission. Tell him that his wife is to be executed in fifteen minutes, and report Alamo's current status.”

   “Any orders for him?” Nelyubov asked.

   “Do I need to give him any?”

   “Probably not,” he said, glancing down at his station. “Spinelli, full sensor lock on the hendecaspace points. Someone will be entering the system in a matter of moments, I suspect.”

   “Take us about,” Orlova ordered. “I want a firing solution on the hendecaspace point, Lieutenant, and if you see any Xandari vessels emerging, don't wait for my order, but fire at will.”

   “Coming around, ma'am,” Armstrong said, her hands dancing across the controls. “Eight minutes to the hendecaspace point. Six minutes to firing range. Building up speed to reduce our window in the firing line.”

   “Have Senior Lieutenant Powell prepare a course to Testament Station,” Orlova ordered, and Cantrell turned from her work to look at her.

   “We can't leave Cooper and Bradley behind,” she insisted. “They'll be killed.”

   Taking a deep breath, Orlova replied, “We've got to cover all the bases, Lieutenant. Neither of them would expect the rest of the crew to give their lives in a futile attempt to save theirs, and you know it. Return to your station.”

   Cantrell stared at her for a moment, as though she was about to reply, before shaking her head and turning back to the console, aggressively flicking switches and tapping buttons to bring the tactical computers on-line.

   “All decks reporting in, Captain,” Nelyubov said, peering at the status reports as they flooded in. “Alamo is cleared for action.”

   “Cooper has acknowledged our transmission,” Weitzman said. “He reports that they are proceeding with operations as planned.”

   “Thank you, Spaceman,” she replied. It was too soon, hours too soon, and with enemy ships entering the system, the worst possible time. Probably why Aussketi had chosen to force the issue now.

   “Weapons systems ready,” Cantrell reported. “Electronic warfare suite engaged.”

   “Now we wait,” Orlova said, looking at the strategic view. “And if I'm right, we won't be waiting for long.”

   “Dimensional instability!” Spinelli yelled. “Something's coming through, ma'am! Multiple contacts!”

   “Here we go again,” Nelyubov said, shaking his head, as Alamo surged towards the approaching vessels. Orlova looked around the bridge, her staff cool and competent, her ship ready for the battle to come. When everything else in the universe fell apart, at least she could count on that.

   “Emergence, ma'am!” Spinelli yelled, and Orlova looked up as the images on the display resolved themselves, forming a familiar pattern, a smile spreading across her face.

   “Daedalus,” she said, sighing with relief. “Contact...”

   “Ma'am,” Spinelli added, the color drained from his face. “I've still got multiple contacts incoming. They aren't alone.”

  Chapter 19

   Harper watched as the starfield reappeared on the screen, the tactical display snapping into view to display Alamo diving towards the hendecaspace point, radiators extended. Ausori was moving slowly away, lumbering for safety, making for a series of scattered debris cloud. Salazar, at the helm, glanced back towards her with a frown on his face.

   “I've got Captain Orlova, ma'am,” Ingram reported.

   “Engines to full power,” Salazar said. “Thirty seconds at full thrust, and I'll start evasive sequences.” Looking across at a display, he added, “Enemy forces will be on us in forty-one.”

   Orlova's face flickered onto the screen, but before she could say anything, Harper began, “We've got fourteen enemy vessels in three groups coming right on our tail, Captain. With a little luck they'll be about as interested in attacking each other as they will in attacking Alamo. Whatever you do, try not to damage their fuel tanks.”

   Confusion flashed across Orlova's face as she replied, “We're getting your tactical data in now. Get out of the firing line as fast as you can. We've got a few tricks up our sleeve. Did the Xandari ambush you at Testament Station?”

   “No, we're being chased by a criminal syndicate working with the Xandari, a group of renegades from the Collective, and five Koltoc gunboats.”

   “Good god, Harper,” Nelyubov said. “You really know how to make friends, don't you.”

   “It's a skill, sir.”

   “Dimensional instability!” Arkhipov said. “Big, really big, coming in now!”

   “It can't be,” Salazar protested, pushing the protesting engines to the outer limits of their acceleration profile. “They're twenty seconds too soon. No one can accelerate in hendecaspace.”

   His eyes wide, Arkhipov said, “It's a Xandari Battlecruiser! Bearing directly on Alamo!”

   “How the hell?” Scott asked.

   “We were so damn smart,” Harper said, smashing her fist on the arm of her chair in frustration. “So damn focused on playing off the opposition back at Testament Station that we didn't realize they were playing us.”

   “The suit ride?” Salazar asked. “They couldn't have timed it that precisely.”

   “Plenty of systems one jump from both systems,” Scott said with a sigh. “And with traitors on Ausori to relay information before we left the original colony...”

   “Later, people,” Harper said. “We've got a battle to win. Pavel, bring us about. Right down the nose of the enemy ship. Scott, I want a firing solution on that bastard, targeting engines and weapons.”

   “We're going to attack them?” Ingram said, shaking his head.

   “Why not?” Salazar replied. “We sure as hell can't outrun them, not without a lot more lead time. I'd rather go down fighting.�
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   “I'd rather not go down at all, if you don't mind,” Scott said. “Firing solution coming up, combat range in three seconds.”

   “Three seconds,” Ingram repeated, wide-eyed.

   “Bringing her around,” Salazar said.

   “Harper,” Orlova said. “Hold on. We're coming.”

   “Hang back, Maggie,” Harper said. “You've got a lot more hell coming your way, and you can't get to us in time.”

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied with a half-smile, “For once, trust that someone else knows what they are doing. Good hunting. Alamo out.”

   “Firing solution locked into the computer, missiles loaded,” Scott said. “Want me to fire them all? One salvo?”

   “Damn right,” Harper said. “I want you to smash some chunks out of that bastard. Try and time it so the first wave of ships sees what we're doing. Let's put on a show.”

   “Energy spike!” Arkhipov said. “Two laser-missiles launching, heading our way.”

   Nodding, Harper stepped forward to Salazar, and said, “Get us close, as close as you can.”

   “Fifty meters distance suit?”

   “Twenty would be better.”

   Salazar whistled, and rattled instructions into the helm, warning lights blaring all around as the small ship dived towards the behemoth before them. Daedalus rocked back on its thrusters as Scott fired their single missile salvo, seven tiny darts racing towards their target, scattering in multiple directions as they dived to the targeted subsystems. On either side, the laser-missiles moved into position, carefully positioning themselves to get a shot.

   The Xandari might have managed to arrange an ambush, but they hadn't been able to coordinate it properly, that much was certain. One pulse of those laser-missiles would rip a battlecruiser to shreds, and against a small ship such as Daedalus, they represented unnecessary overkill. They'd been expecting to attack Alamo as their first target.

   “Dimensional instability!” a resigned Arkhipov reported with a sigh. “Fourteen ships entering the system, just as we expected. Three waves, two seconds apart. I'm surprised they didn't cause a quantum fissure.”