The group began to swerve from side to side, more bolts crashing into the ground all around them as they desperately raced for safety, still unable to see their adversaries flying through the sky over their heads. If they had taken any prisoners before, they seemed uninterested in adding to their collection, the intensity of the barrage increasing almost by the moment.
Somehow, they found more speed, racing faster, desperately struggling to the gleaming silver bullet up ahead. Then, another bolt crashed into the ground beside Clarke, the force of the impact sending him tumbling from his feet, diving forward before he could stop his fall. The others sped ahead of him as he caught his breath, forcing himself back up, sprinting with all his might to catch up to the rest of the group. Mortimer, spotting his distress, turned and fired a series of shots into the air, emptying her clip into the unseen foe, waiting for Clarke to catch up to her before continuing her desperate run for safety.
“Should have left me behind,” Clarke panted.
“Like hell,” she replied. Up ahead, Harper tumbled into the train, the others just behind her, but the bullets were raining down all around them now, clouds of dust filling the air from the swarm of impacts. Clarke looked up, and saw the implacable face of one of the winged humanoids above him, almost close enough to touch, the long rifle held in her hands. There was no emotion there, no sign of humanity, just cold, burning eyes that seemed to bore into his soul.
Then the familiar staccato rattle of a machine gun opened up, Lombardo aiming a series of bursts into the area all around them, giving Clarke and Mortimer a chance to reach the train, the attack disrupted for just long enough to give them their chance. Welcoming arms snatched them to safety, the door slamming shut before any uninvited guests could enter, and the train burst into life, Harper at the controls.
Lombardo flashed Clarke a grin before moving to stand beside the hacker, Mortimer looking through the rear viewport at the mass of winged humanoids flying after them. Clarke moved to stand beside her, shaking her head at the amazing sight, thousands of them in perfect formation, little sparks of light from their jet-packs. Finally, as one, they turned away, arcing into the sky, racing back the way they came.
“Out of fuel,” Mortimer suggested. “They can’t have much in those little things.”
“For all you know,” Harper replied, “They might have tiny little antimatter reactors. I don’t think we can take anything for granted. Not here.” She turned to Clarke, and asked, “Tell me that moon doesn’t go anywhere near Base Camp.”
“No closer than five thousand miles, Lieutenant,” Clarke replied. “If they could roam that far, we’d know about it already.”
“I hope you’re right,” Salazar said. “I don’t think we’re set up to deal with quite that many uninvited guests.” Looking around, he said, “Get some sleep. We’ll be home in ten hours, and we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
Harper turned to him, and said, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Kris, I promise, you’re going to love it,” he replied with a wide grin.
Chapter 3
“That’s it,” Harper said, looking up at a dozing Salazar, slouched on the floor of the train. “Pavel, wake up, damn it.”
“Wha?” he said. His eyes snapped open, and he said, “What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I just realized something important.”
“What time is it?”
“Oh-three-hundred and change.”
Sitting up, Salazar said, “You realize even I need to sleep sometimes.” Rubbing his eyes, he said, “What have you got?”
“The source of the communications interference, and the reason our sensors were disabled. As well as the best chance we’ve got of finding a way home.”
“You officially have my attention.”
“It’s that moon. The one those winged...things...attacked from. I did a little checking with the sensors, and that’s the most powerful emitter of electromagnetic traffic I’ve ever seen. More than enough to disable communications for a hundred thousand miles in every direction. That one object is retarding technological development for millions of square miles, billions of people.”
“And you assume that whatever is generating it...”
“Is several orders of magnitude greater than the most powerful quantum computer I have ever seen. It might even be the control complex of the entire Sphere, or one of them, anyway. And I checked out something else as well.” She pulled out her datapad, and said, “Look at the DNA samples. Now, I’m no expert at genetics, but I do know something about nanotechnology. They’ve got markers, probably from the original engineering, maybe designed as a signature of the designer. And they’re identical to those creatures the Hegemonic scientists were playing with. They came from the same original source.”
Salazar’s eyes widened, and he said, “You want us to fly into that sort of a nightmare?”
Frowning, she replied, “I don’t think we’ve got a choice. You said yourself that the researchers had found a wormhole map, and that has to be the original source. Nothing else makes any real sense. Pavel, it’s the first real lead we’ve had in a month. We can’t pass it up.”
“We’d never get there in the flyer, sir,” Clarke said, turning to look at him. “I’m sorry, but if it was a private conversation, Captain, you probably should have spoken a little more softly.”
“Forgive us for interrupting your beauty sleep, Sub-Lieutenant,” Salazar replied with a smile.
“Hell, sir, you’re the ones who have to look at me,” Clarke said. “That moon is maybe a thousand miles up. Still in the atmosphere, which makes it tougher, though the gravity field is a lot lower up there. Maybe a tenth of the levels on the surface.” He paused, then said, “Maybe we could use one of the shuttles.”
“No way,” Lombardo said, turning from the controls.
“Is anyone actually still asleep?” Harper asked.
“I’m asleep,” Mortimer said. “This is all a bad dream, and I’ll wake up back in my cabin on Alamo in a minute.” With a deep sigh, she said, “There’s an answer, Lieutenant. We’ve got several fighters on the surface.”
Nodding, Lombardo said, “Those engines are modular. Though you realize what you’re suggesting, I hope. We only get a shorter burst...”
“But enough to put us into a sub-orbital trajectory, or something close to it. It’s the gravity that hurts us as much as the atmosphere, and that fades away rapidly. The only reason we’ve got so much atmosphere is that something else keeps it close.” She paused, and added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a second gravity field, maybe a hundred thousand miles up, to keep everything nice and compact.”
“That’s impossible,” Lombardo said. He smiled, then added, “What am I saying? We’re in a damned Dyson Sphere.” He paused, and said, “If you’re right about the gravity field, then we’d need one fast push, then a slow boost for a while. We’d have to head back to a glide landing, but that shouldn’t be any problem.” A smile crossed his face, and he added, “Hell, I wouldn’t even need to mess around with the fighters too much. I think I can do it with some software changes, maybe fit the remaining missiles as a first-stage.”
“That’s more like it,” Harper said. “I’ll help you with the reprogramming.”
Looking at his watch, Salazar replied, “We get back to Base Camp in about three hours. How long to make the modifications?”
“Six, at most, if we all work at full stretch.” He paused, then added, “You won’t be able to launch with anything even remotely like a full load. Two people at most, and only a few pounds of equipment. I suppose I might be able to rig something better given time, but...”
“Two will be fine. We’ll use both shuttles, give us the best possible chance of reaching our target. As for landing, that shouldn’t be difficult. The moons have atmosphere, have a gravity field. It’ll
be tough as hell, but I don’t see any insoluble problems. And besides, if we miss, we just come down to a safe landing.”
“At least ten thousand miles from our point of origin, if I’m figuring my trajectories right,” Mortimer warned. “And without that much control over the landing site. We don’t have a route map for these trains that goes anything like that far.” Sitting up, she looked around the coach, and added, “This is a one way trip. Let’s not fool ourselves on that score. I’m not even sure how we’re supposed to get back down to the surface.”
Silence reigned for a long moment, and Salazar said, “You are quite right, Sub-Lieutenant. The goal would be to disable the jamming field, find the wormhole map, and transmit it to Base Camp. I suppose there might be a chance of at least getting to the surface again afterwards, but I agree that the amount of control that the pilot would have would be limited at best.” With a smile, he continued, “Having said all of that, I should note that this mission is based on the idea that we’re invading a moon that is certainly the base of thousands of hostile troops. The odds of the strike teams living for more than a few minutes seem marginal at best. That’s why I’m taking Shuttle One.”
“I’m with you,” Harper said. She turned to Salazar, and before he could reply, continued, “Don’t even think about trying this without me. Not this time. Besides, I’m by far the best-qualified person to deal with the artificial intelligence when we get there. I have to go.”
Lombardo looked at the two of them, and replied, “I can make the modifications, but that’s about as far as it goes. If they’ve got as good a sensor network as I think they do, you’ll be spotted the moment you light your engines, and they’ve got an army that can fly. They’ll intercept you, almost certainly, and those shuttles are unarmed.” He paused, then added, “And I’m going to have to strip the ships as light as I can, which means removing pretty much all of the safety equipment before takeoff. So if you do come down in the middle of nowhere, all you’ll have to live on are the contents of your pockets.”
“True enough, Art,” Salazar replied. “I don’t disagree with you, and if I thought we had any other way of completing our mission here, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
“There’s something else,” Harper said. “We all risked our lives to stop those researchers unleashing an army of, well, beasts on the surface of the Sphere. Based on the genetic readings we’ve got, I think we’ve only done half the job. There are no advanced civilizations for thousands, maybe tens of thousands of miles, and I think we can work out why. Someone’s stopping them, cold. And someone has to stand up for them.”
“And that’s us?” Mortimer asked.
“You see anyone else around here?” Salazar replied. He looked around the room, and said, “On Alamo, there are a hundred and forty people looking to us to find a way to get them home. Not to mention that there’s a good chance that we have people stranded up there, people wearing the same uniform that we do, doubtless hoping and praying that someone, anyone comes after them. We can’t abandon them. We won’t.”
With a smile, he added, “All of us volunteered for this mission. All of us knew the risks we were running, and we all know that we might be required to sacrifice our lives. This time it isn’t for all humanity, for the Confederation, but for our shipmates. Our friends and comrades. If my life is the currency to get them home, then I will pay it, and I will pay it gladly.”
“I feel the same way,” Harper said. “Knocking out that transmitter might be as simple as putting an explosive charge in the right place, and if the Hegemony can crack their systems, so can I. It might take a while, but one way or another, I’ll find that way home.”
“Or die, trying,” Mortimer said.
“If that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come back from a suicide mission. I’m willing to make the attempt, anyway.”
“Crazy,” Mortimer said, shaking her head.
“Maybe,” Clarke replied. “If so, I am too. I’ll take Shuttle Two, sir.”
“Every time you’ve climbed into a cockpit, you’ve crashed!” Mortimer protested.
“And I’ve walked away from the wreckage every time,” the young man said with a smile.
“You’re all insane,” Mortimer said. With a sigh, she said, “Fine, I’ll ride shotgun.”
“This mission is strictly volunteer, Sub-Lieutenant,” Salazar said. “You’re not under any obligation. That applies to both of you, John, so if this is some misplaced sense...”
“Sir, I’m Security Officer. This is my job. Technically, as Alamo’s Captain, you shouldn't be going on a mission like this yourself. Hell, you shouldn’t even have come down to the Sphere in the first place. I guess what I’m saying, sir, is that if you have the right to offer your life for my shipmates, so do I.”
“And if I don’t go with him, then it will be a suicide mission,” Mortimer added. “Besides, after you, Lieutenant, I’m the best-qualified on the surface to work with advanced computer systems. I know that I’m not in your league, but if it comes to it, I can probably work out where to place the grenade.”
“That’s an interesting hacking technique,” Harper replied with a smile. “And to be far, one that I’ve resorted to myself on occasion.”
“You’re sure you can complete the modifications quickly?” Salazar asked, turning to Lombardo.
“With all hands helping out, sure,” the engineer replied. “Though it’ll leave us stranded on the surface, of course. It’s unlikely we’d be able to recover the shuttles.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Clarke said. “When Alamo returns...”
“If Alamo returns,” Mortimer interrupted.
“They’ll be able to use their own shuttles for the pickup. And if they don’t, well, nobody from Base Camp will need them again anyway. The train and the flyer are more efficient ways of traveling across the surface of the Sphere.”
“Right now, the shuttles aren’t doing us any good at all. We might as well make some use out of them while we can. And the sensor data we’re likely to collect should tell us something, as well.” Looking at Clarke, Salazar asked, “Are you really sure about this?”
“Absolutely, Captain. I’ll follow you in.” With a smile, he added, “Maybe this time I’ll actually get to land something conventionally for once.”
“If for no other reason than that, I’m going along for the ride,” Mortimer said. “This, I’ve got to see.”
“And you think that the Captain is crazy,” Lombardo said, shaking his head as he returned to the controls. “Kris, there’s no point trying to get to sleep now. We might as well start work on the modifications.” He frowned, then added, “You realize as well that we’ve got no way of simulating this ride?”
“More fun that way,” Salazar said with a smile.
“We have different definitions of that word, sir,” Mortimer replied.
Chapter 4
Orlova walked into the familiar briefing room, looking around at the unfamiliar mix of officers assembled inside, many of whom she hardly knew. Even after all this time, it still felt strange to see Max Francis rather than Frank Nelyubov in the Executive Officer’s seat; at least Val Foster, handling Operations, was a familiar face, as was Katherine Scott sitting in at Tactical. A pale-faced Corporal sat in for the diminished Espatier team, and a Sub-Lieutenant who looked like she should be planning for her flight tests had the chair to represent the squadron, her seniority granted solely by her standing on graduation, less than nine months ago. Weeks before Alamo’s arrival in Andromeda.
On the other side of the table, Chief Santiago held the Systems Officer’s chair that should have been either Jack Quinn’s or Art Lombardo’s, two empty seats next to her for the absent Security and Intelligence Officers, with Chief Petty Officer Kowalski somehow representing three departments by himself. Her heavy hints that he oug
ht to accept a commission had been rejected outright, with language that almost called upon her to arrest him for insubordination.
There were ghosts in this room. Shadows of long-ago missions, long-dead officers that still seemed to haunt this place. The longer she held the command chair, the more she was certain that she’d happily yield it upon their return to Triplanetary space. She’d been here too long, seen too much. Time for someone else to take the burden. Not that she had a choice for the moment.
“Right, everyone,” she said, taking her seat. “We’d better get started. Chief, how’s the ship?”
“Lousy.”
A thin smile curled Orlova’s lips, and she said, “A little more detail would be useful.”
“Damned lousy,” the engineer replied, pushing a datapad in front of her. “We’re not fit for a major fight, Captain. If you just want to cruise through space for a while, I think we can handle that, but we’ve taken too much damage for me to be particularly sanguine about a battle. We’ve stressed the superstructure once too often. That means serious spacedock time. I can put the pieces together just so often.” Tapping a button, she added, “All of the fabricators are beginning to fail, as well. And again, there’s only so much I can do to keep them going. To be blunt, Captain, we’ve run too far and too long, and we’re about at the end of the road.”
Nodding, Kowalski said, “I’m with her. Supplies are low. We’re entirely dependent on the food fabricators, and I had to take three of the carniculture vats out of service. Bacterial contamination. That’s a bad, bad sign. I think I can bring one of them back, but it’s going to mean reduced rations for a while. Until we can resupply somewhere.” Frowning, he added, “If we get a chance, we ought to send some teams into the Sphere to gather rations.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have anything like the time for a hunting expedition, Chief,” Scott said. “I’ve got the same story, Captain. Too much damage to our weapons systems, too many trained people killed or wounded. My teams are doing their best, but there’s only so much they can do.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I hate to admit it, but if we go up against those four ships, I think we’re going to lose. And we’re going to lose, big.”
Battlecruiser Alamo_Cries in the Dark Page 3
