Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament

by Richard Tongue

   She failed. Two of the enemy missiles found their targets, wiping out the incoming warheads in a brief flicker of destruction, but there was still a chance. Still four more missiles from Alamo heading towards their target. Orlova turned back to the tactical display, looking at the course tracks, holding her breath for the final seconds.

   In quick succession, all four missiles made it to the target, and the whole crew waited for something to happen, watched for the destruction to the enemy vessel that was needed, that could save the Neander ship. After three seconds, Orlova closed her eyes, a darkness sweeping her soul as she realized that it hadn't been enough. The Xandari battlecruiser still dived towards its target, barely forty seconds remaining before impact.

   Taking a deep breath, she said, “Armstrong, lock Alamo onto the weak spot we were looking for. Maximum acceleration.”

   “Maggie,” Nelyubov said.

   “All hands abandon ship.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” Armstrong said, her fingers white as she entered the course, tapping the override controls to silence the objections of the computer. On the bridge, no one moved, remaining at their stations, and Orlova looked around with a smile on her face.

   “Not much point anyway,” Nelyubov said. “Not with the blast radius we're projecting.”

   All across the lower decks, escape pods spilled free, dozens of crewmen taking a desperate chance for survival. Quietly, Orlova stepped back to the holodesk, looking up at the course projections one last time. Frantically, Cantrell worked her console, trying to get another salvo of missiles into position for another shot, but she simply wasn't going to have the time.

   “Maggie,” Nelyubov said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I wanted to…

   “Change to target aspect!” Spinelli yelled. “The Neander vessel, the gunboat, it's turning in towards the enemy craft. Collision course, impact in ten seconds!”

   “They're dropping escape pods,” Cantrell added. “Getting crowded out there.”

   “Veer off!” Orlova ordered, and Armstrong raced to comply. “Frank, get the search and rescue shuttles into the air now, and abort any remaining escape pod launches.”

   “On it,” he said, all business once again, frantically issuing orders from his console. Orlova looked up at the screen, watching as the blunt arrow-headed spaceship dived towards its prey, a pulse of light hurtling to the rear at the last second, a shuttlecraft making a desperate bid for survival. Another salvo of missiles raced from the Xandari vessel towards the incoming ship, but though it battered and twisted the hull armor, it wasn't enough to stop them.

   The two ships collided, with a huge flash of light, the enemy battlecruiser broke into two, the fragments tossed in all directions, an expanding cloud of debris filling the screen. Spinelli frantically worked his console, trying to establish course projections, while Armstrong gently guided Alamo out of the danger area, clear of the wave of shrapnel filling the screen.

   “That did it!” the technician yelled. “The hull's going to be rattled, but all the major fragments are on clear courses, and all of our escape pods are on safe trajectories.”

   The spontaneous cheer that rose from every console on the bridge was loud enough to deafen her, but with tears of relief in her eyes, she stepped over to the communications console, Weitzman looking up with a beaming smile on his face.

   “Get me that Neander shuttle,” she said. “Frank, get our crew home.”

   “Already on it,” he replied. “The SAR shuttles are in the airlocks now, cleared for launch.”

   “I've got Skeuros for you, ma'am,” Weitzman said.

   “Alamo here,” Orlova replied.

   “I need you to rescue my crew,” the Neander said. “All of us managed to get out, but I don't know how long they'll last out there.”

   “I've already got the retrieval mission under way,” she replied, as Nelyubov flashed her a thumbs' up in confirmation. “All of your crew will be on Alamo in moments, and our sickbay is ready to accept casualties.”

   “Thank you, Captain.”

   “No, Skeuros. Thank you.”

   “Well, we could hardly let a softskin crew take all the credit, could we. I'm heading over to the freighter to see what help we can give over there.”

   “Follow our Espatier teams in. I'll let Sergeant Gurung know that you're coming.”

   “Will do. Skeuros out.”

   Running her hand through her hair, Orlova stepped back over to the holodesk, Nelyubov looking up with a huge smile on his face, a datapad in his hand.

   “I don't know what you're so happy about,” she said, returning the smile. “It's going to take days to clear up this mess.” Turning back to Weitzman, she added, “Contact Cooper, if you can, and tell him that everything is clear outside, and that help is on the way. Armstrong, set a course for the hendecaspace point, just in case anyone else is coming to visit.”

   “God, I hope not,” Nelyubov replied, with a sigh. “I'll see if I can get the other vessels into some sort of formation, try and get them rearmed.” He stepped over to the tactical station, snatching up a headset, leaving Orlova alone at the heart of the bridge.

   “Come on, Cooper,” she muttered. “Finish this.”

  Chapter 25

   Dropping the communicator from his face, Cooper yelled, “Reinforcements incoming!” as he jogged down the corridor, Kelot and Walpis right behind him, leading a hastily assembled squad of Neander troopers. He turned back to the others, a grin on his face. This battle was at last turning their way, and as they passed a dormitory section, a cheer rose from the occupants, one of the Neander dragged to one side to receive a hug from a child.

   Nothing was going to be the same here any more. The power of the ruling class had been broken, shattered beyond repair, and none of the passengers of this ship would ever be content with being ruled again. They had their freedom, and now they had to work out what to do with it. Assuming, of course, that they managed to finish the job.

   “Down here,” Kelot said, throwing open a hatch. Cooper swung down it, hand over hand, the rest scrambling to follow as quickly as they could. Morigna and the bulk of the Proctors were dead, but Aussketi and her senior staff were still holed up down in the lower command section, a hidden area isolated from the rest of the ship.

   The shadows seemed to leap out at him, the only illumination provided by a dim torchlight. They climbed past side tunnels, empty compartments, abandoned corridors, not stopping to check them for traps or ambushes. Anything could be waiting to jump out at them, but there was no time to worry about that now. While the immediate danger was ebbing, the Xandari had already made one attempt to destroy the ship, and if any of them had made it on board, they would have no compunction about attempting the same atrocity from inside.

   Kelot directed him to the side, swinging down to transfer from one shaft to another, scrambling on his hands and knees with his pistol in his hand, the spare clips in his pocket clattering against the wall. Behind him, he heard a curse, and felt something brush against his back as it fell into eternity, an embarrassed Neander above holding out his hands, his rifle lost.

   The hatch was just ahead, and he paused for a few seconds to take deep breaths, in and out, calming himself before the battle that was to come. He looked around at the impatient, eager troopers, ready to defeat their final enemy, all of them now bloodied veterans against the Xandari and their own people, the gleam in their eye that showed their readiness for combat.

   “On three,” he said, resting his hand on the release switch. “One, two, three!”

   Cooper kicked the hatch open, swinging down and dropping into the compartment, rolling on the floor behind a console, tumbling into the bleeding corpse of a Xandari in front of him. Kelot, next through, dropped after him, falling back over another body on the floor, a faint chuckle coming from the command chair at the heart of the room, Aussketi sitting alone, surrounded by bodies, al
l of the monitors and displays rigged for automatic control.

   “Switch over to Bradley on the bridge,” Kelot said, turning to one of the troopers, a control systems technician in his former life before being forced to take up arms. Cooper raised his pistol, pointing it at Aussketi's head, cautiously stepping towards her.

   “Give me one good reason not to end you now,” he said.

   “You'll never know what happened here if you do,” she replied.

   Kelot looked at him, and said, “She must face a trial. All of this must be documented. The dead deserve that much.” He turned his gaze back to her, spitting on the floor by her feet, and adding, “Though it if was up to me, you'd be going for a swim out of an airlock.”

   “We all die, sooner or later,” Aussketi replied. “The only question is whether we die for a good cause or a bad one.” Gesturing around the room, she said, “Who do you think killed them.”

   “Why?” Cooper asked.

   “They had served their purpose, and they had to pay for the crimes they had committed, as do I.” She sighed, then added, “I did what I did for good reasons. Somehow, the people on this ship had to be freed.”

   Wrinkling his face, Kelot replied, “You're trying to tell me that you were on our side?”

   “No. After all, you were one of those willing to grit your teeth and accept what was happening in order to keep the peace. I had to push you, force you, if I was going to overthrow the command structure of this ship.” Resting back in her chair, she added, “Those revolutionaries under Oktu weren't going to do a thing. Simply getting a few hundred people over to Testament Station wouldn't be enough, not by a long shot. I had to drive everyone to revolt.”

   “You betrayed us to the Xandari,” Kelot pressed.

   “Yes,” she replied, turning to Cooper. “Because of you.”

   “Us?” Cooper asked, dumbfounded.

   “When you found us, learned the truth about our government and the manner in which it oppresses its citizens, I expected you to take action to stop it. To impose your own control on this ship, help the revolutionaries, drive them to fight for their freedom. All of the rhetoric you espoused, about freedom and democracy.”

   Kelot looked at Cooper, who said, “It isn't our place to choose how your people live. The Confederation is not in the business of forced regime change.”

   “Ah, but you have, in the past. On Thule, on Jefferson, on Haven.”

   “That was different. Those worlds asked for our help, wanted us...”

   “It was no different.” She took a deep breath, and continued, “Yes, I made contact with the Xandari, before we left the extraction facility. I worked with Lostok, at first, and later with Morigna, though she believed she was suppressing dissidents. It didn't take much to encourage her to extremism.”

   “Knowing what was at stake, you brought an enemy battlecruiser down upon us?” Kelot asked. “What sort of a monster are you?”

   “A better one than the people who would have imprisoned the refugees as soon as they arrived,” she replied. “A better one than the Starborn, who impose a tyranny on three worlds. They're no better than the Xandari, and I'm certain that one day they will make fine friends for them.” With a mocking laugh, she continued, “Yes, there are sizable factions trying to make a peace, even if it means handing over hundreds of millions of people to die as slaves.”

   “How does handing these people back to the Xandari help?” Cooper asked.

   “I was counting on you,” she said. “You, your Captain, your ship, your crew.” She coughed, then continued, “I knew that the situation had to be pressed to a finish, that everything had to rise at the same time...”

   Stepping forward, Cooper interrupted, “You assumed that we'd defeat the Xandari, defeat the overseers, and that we'd end up imposing our own command structure anyway.”

   “Something along those lines,” she added. “I was ready to help you along the way. I did, in fact. Lieutenant Harper had a much easier time hacking the missiles after I killed our sysop.” Looking up, deep brown eyes locking onto his, she said, “They would be free, or they would be dead. I considered it a reasonable risk.”

   “You had no right to make that decision,” Kelot boomed.

   She coughed again, and replied, “Someone had to. Now, maybe, things will change. A few at a time, the people on this ship will drift back home, and tell all they meet that there is a new way, a better way, a chance for things to be different. Maybe it will help.”

   “Do you believe any of this?” Walpis asked, looking at Cooper.

   “Maybe. I suppose it might be possible to corroborate her story.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Not that it changes anything. Whatever her motivation, she is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, and might have killed thousands if things had gone just a little differently. I doubt the judge will see that as mitigation worth a damn.”

   “Ironic,” she said, punctuated by hacking coughs. “Their names will go down in history as martyrs, the first casualties in the struggle that will free our people. Mine will be a curse on people's lips until the end of time, and that is only fair.” Turning lethargically to Cooper, she said, “Tell me something. You'd die for your crew, for your people, yes?”

   “Of course.”

   “Would you go further than that, though? Blacken your name forever, knowing that it was the only way to save them? Knowing that you would be despised and hated?” She shook her head. “There are greater sacrifices than mere death.”

   The lights flickered for a moment, and the panels winked out, the Neander technician reporting, “I've shifted all command functions to the bridge. Sub-Lieutenant Bradley and the control crew are working on restoring all systems now.”

   Cooper's communicator chirped, and with one eye on Aussketi, he raised it to his ear, saying, “Cooper here. Go ahead.”

   “Sergeant Ghewon, sir. It's good to hear your voice again.”

   “Likewise, Sergeant. What's the news?”

   “The battle's just about won, sir.” A chorus of cheers filled the air from the Neander. “We've taken the auxiliary power distribution node, and that was the last part of the command net the Proctors held. We'll be hours sweeping the rest of the ship, but the vessel is now under our control.”

   “Thank you, Sergeant. That's excellent news. I want a detail down the double to escort a prisoner to the brig.”

   Kelot nodded, and said, “Use your own people. I don't think any of ours could be trusted to get her there in one piece. I wouldn't trust myself with a job like that.”

   “That won't be necessary,” Aussketi said, slumping in her seat, falling forward. “I arranged everything down to the last detail. You were a little late, though. I didn't know whether I could hang on that long.”

   A Neander rushed forward with a medical kit, dropping down on his knees beside her, quickly attaching a diagnostic scanner before looking up and shaking his head.

   “Painless and fatal,” she said. “Fast-acting, and no known antidote. It's surprising what the Xandari kept in their hidden stores. I believe they considered this to by mercy, by their standards.” She looked up at Kelot, coughed, and said, “It's all down to you now. You've got to lead these people, and you've got to find them a safe harbor. They're counting on you, and so am I.” A smile on her face, she slumped forward, taking one last, hacking breath, and tumbling out of the chair onto the deck.

   Kelot looked down at the body, shaking his head, and said, “What do you think, Ensign?”

   “I don't know,” he replied. “It would be easy to write that off as the ravings of a madwoman, someone desperately trying to excuse the inexcusable, and yet...I just don't know.” He looked around the room, and said, “None of you heard a thing. You got that? None of you heard anything that she said.”

   “Sir,” one of the troopers began, but Kelot turned to him, eyes on fire.

&nbs
p;  “Listen to the Ensign. He's right. If word of that got out, it would,” he paused, looked back at the body, and said, “confuse matters. We've had enough killing on this ship. Let it all end here, let it all end now.”

   The door opened, and Corporal Stewart raced into the room, a pair of troopers behind her, rifles in their hands. She looked around at the somber Neander, then at the body slumped by the command chair.

   “There was a prisoner, sir?” she asked.

   “No,” Cooper said, shaking his head. “Not any more. Maybe there never was.”

   “Maybe it's me,” Kelot said, sighing.

   “The bridge has been secured, sir,” Stewart said. “Captain Orlova's complements, and she'd like to speak to you as soon as possible.” Turning to Kelot, she added, “You as well, sir. We've got engineering and medical teams standing by to assist you, but we need permission from the ship's commanding officer to proceed.”

   The Neander looked around for a moment, shook his head, and said, “I guess that's me, isn't it. Get them over here, Corporal. We need all the help we can get.” He looked at Cooper, and said, “That goes for me, as well, Gabe.”

   “Don't worry,” Cooper replied. “We'll find a way through this.”

   “I hope so,” he said. Moving over to Aussketi's body, a grim smile remaining, even in death, he said, “Have her buried in space with the others. No special ceremony, nothing else, and no marker to identify her. If she was lying, she'll burn for eternity. If she was telling the truth, then maybe she'll find her rest.” He sighed, then added, “And maybe some day, so will I.”

  Chapter 26

   Orlova walked down the corridor, waving at Harper and Salazar as they stepped through the docking hatch. They glanced at each other before saluting, nervous frowns on their faces, Harper's uniform still battered and torn from the battle. Orlova stood in front of them, shaking her head.

   “I've been looking at your field logs,” she replied. “I would look at your after-action reports, but it seems you haven't got around the filing them yet.”