Looking at Orlova, Francis said, “You don’t want to hear this, Captain...”
“Say it, Lieutenant,” she replied.
“We ought to consider evacuation. We’ve got one potential safe haven, but that’s eight, nine weeks away, and we’re liable to have to fight our way through a combat fleet to get there. At least on the Sphere we’d have room to hide, and unlimited space to settle.” Glancing at Kowalski, he added, “I think we can get the crew to safety in less than eight hours, with three shuttle passes. Two if we can retrieve our ships from Base Camp. Then we pick a spot, and settle down to wait.”
Nodding, Kowalski added, “We followed the trail. Someone else will, sooner or later. One of our own ships, and they might have more luck than we did...”
“Gentlemen,” Orlova said, fixing first Francis then Kowalski with a sharp stare, “I have no intention of abandoning this ship until and unless we have no other choice. Alamo is in good condition for an extended cruise, and we have every reason to believe that the information we have been seeking is waiting for us inside the Sphere. For all we know, Captain Salazar has already retrieved it for us. I’m not going to let him down, and I’m not going to let the crew down. I want that to be perfectly clear.”
“Aye, Captain,” Foster said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Francis added.
Looking around the room, she continued, “We can expect the enemy to follow us to the Sphere as soon as they can assume a battle formation. Say twenty minutes at the most. That means that as soon as we arrive, we’re going to have to move as fast as we can. I want a shuttle heading down to the surface immediately upon our arrival. Corporal, that’s yours. Four troopers and a pilot.”
“I’d like to volunteer for that, Captain,” Foster said. “You’re going to need a senior officer as liaison anyway. We don’t know how many people we’re going to pull out.”
“Very well. My intention is to use the singularity as the heart of a fast orbital track, and to make a series of quick trajectory changes to give us multiple passes for shuttle recovery. I expect the enemy to work out what we’re doing before long, but regardless, we’ll do everything we can to make the mission work. I stress that engaging the enemy fleet is a last resort.” Looking at Santiago, she added, “I’m not unaware of the state of the ship, Chief.”
“Flying that close to a black hole is going to make matters worse fast, Captain.”
Tapping a control, she brought up a starmap, and said, “Which is why we won’t stay long. If all of our personnel are at Base Camp, we should have them on board in a couple of hours. Then we do one last, tight turn, and swing around to aim for one of the hendecaspace points in the outer system.”
Her eyes wide, Scott replied, “You’re looking at a billion miles and change, Captain.”
“Accelerating all the way. It’ll take about two months, but by the time we get out that far, we’ll be moving so fast that any potential intercept will be impossible. If we have a direction to the wormhole, then we head out that way. Otherwise we return to our starting point, evading the enemy forces at will, until we reach safety. Whereupon we will repair the ship and try again.”
“It’s a risk, Captain,” Santiago said. “I’m not even sure that I can guarantee the ship for that length of time. Even on a long cruise like that.” She paused, then added, “Though it would give me a chance to prepare us for the ride home.”
“Can the ship do it?”
“If we’re lucky, then I think it can. Assuming the enemy ships don’t shoot us to pieces first.”
“Ma’am,” the fighter pilot quietly said, “We’re not going to be able to screen the shuttles if we’re on transit courses that close to the singularity. They’re built for the sort of sustained acceleration, but we aren’t.”
“I know, Sub-Lieutenant. Don’t worry. I intend to hold you back as a last resort, in the event that the enemy somehow manages to get the jump on us and launch an attack. Though I still believe that we can pull this mission off without getting into a serious firefight. We’ve got the advantage of time and acceleration, and should be able to avoid combat.” Turning to Kowalski, she continued, “I want you to make sure that every transport shuttle is at maximum efficiency before we arrive. That’s your top priority. And see that all the pilots are given plenty of simulator time in operations near the black hole. We ought to have more than enough sensor data to give them a good start at this stage.”
“Will do, Captain,” he replied. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Then we will adapt to the situation as we must, Chief, but I’ll say once more that I have absolutely no intention of allowing any of our people to be stranded on the surface. Any that are still alive come home. End of story.” Looking at her officers again, she asked, “Any questions?” None of them answered, and after a moment, she continued, “We’ll be leaving hendecaspace in twelve hours, and I intend to go to battle stations five minutes before emergence. Inform your staff accordingly. And make sure that you all get some sleep. The next day or so will probably the most critical since we arrived in Andromeda. Dismissed.”
The officers rose to attention, saluted, and walked out of the room. Foster was at the rear, and after a moment, she turned, the door sliding shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the briefing room.
“Captain,” she said, “They’re good officers. They know what they’re doing, and you won’t find anyone more committed in the Fleet, especially when it comes to getting our surface teams home.”
“Meaning?”
“If Lieutenant Francis and Kat Scott are worried that this can’t be done, they’ve got some basis for that argument.” She sat down next to Orlova, and said, “It must feel strange, being back.”
Nodding, she admitted, “That it does. Stranger than I’d expected.” Looking around the room, she said, “All of this...”
“I know,” Foster said. “I felt the same way when I came back on board. I was expecting Jack Quinn or Gabe Cooper to walk through those doors at any minute. I suppose I still do.” She glanced down for a second, then said, “That doesn’t mean they aren’t the finest crew in the Fleet. Captain Marshall started the job...”
“And Captain Salazar finished it,” Orlova completed. “I think I get the idea.”
“This isn’t a competition, Captain. It certainly doesn’t need to be. I know that if Pavel was here, he’d have been more than happy to defer to you. I think he’s one of the least ambitious officers I’ve ever met. Having said that...”
“This is still his ship, and his crew.” She sat back on her chair, and said, “Would it surprise you very much to learn that Monitor was supposed to be my last ship-side assignment?”
“You weren’t coming back?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I hadn’t planned to. Not for more than a shakedown cruise, anyway. I spent six months ground-side, and I enjoyed it a lot more than I’d expected. I’m tired, Val. I was tired before starting this little journey. Believe me, I’d be happy to give this up as soon as someone else turns up who wants it. I took over from Max because there didn’t seem to be a choice at the time. When we get home...”
Cracking a smile, Foster interrupted, “At least you haven’t given up on that yet. I’m afraid more than a few of the crew think we’re going to die out here. Me, I’m an optimist. I think we’re going to find our way back. Pavel’s had a month to root through the Sphere and work out a way home. Or at least have some sort of lead for us to work with. It’s precisely the sort of operation he’s best at. And with Harper as well...”
Nodding, Orlova said, “Let’s hope you’re right. I’d hate to have to turn tail and run, especially at the hands of the Hegemony.” She shook her head, and said, “Nothing would make me happier than teaching those bastards a few lessons about the niceties of space warfare.”
“Maybe we’ll get the chance at some point, ma’am,” Foste
r said. She rose, then said, “If you need someone to talk to, Captain, I’m here. I’m no Frank Nelyubov, but I suppose I’m better than nothing.”
“Thanks, Val,” she replied. “That means a lot.”
Nodding, she said, “Are you going to take your own orders, Captain, and get some rest? We can handle the ship until we return to normal space, and you’ve been working harder than anyone else to get Alamo ready for the fight.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll take a few hours before emergence.”
Looking at the hull, she added, “And don’t worry about what Santiago said, either. This is still the same tough old ship she’s always been. Whatever needs to be done, she’ll find a way to do. You can count on it.”
“I know,” Orlova replied. “That much hasn’t changed, at least.”
“It never will.”
Chapter 5
“McCormack,” Salazar said, turning to the squadron leader standing in front of him, “You’re in charge until I get back. If Alamo arrives while we’re gone, set up a communications relay and return to the ship on the double. Nobody is to wait around for us to come back.” Looking at the shuttles, lined up on the ground before him, he continued, “Realistically, there’s not much chance that we’ll be returning. Your responsibility is to the personnel at Base Camp, not the shuttle crews.”
“Understood, sir,” she replied. She looked at the nearest shuttle, then continued, “Request permission to take the place of either yourself or Sub-Lieutenant Clarke. Your place is here, and I’m a better pilot than Clarke.”
“Granted, but it’s not just about getting there, Lieutenant. He’s an expert at the sort of covert operation that will be required as soon as we reach the moon. As am I. If there was a better choice to lead this mission, I’d gladly stay behind.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, matter-of-factly. “There’s no point even pretending anything else, sir. I still maintain that I’m a better choice to command this mission, but I will concede your experience at surface operations.” Standing to attention, she saluted, and added, “Good luck, Captain. And in the event that we don’t meet again, let me assure you now that it has been an honor and a privilege to serve under your command.”
“The honor, and the privilege, is all mine, Lieutenant,” he replied, returning the salute. Turning to the shuttle crews, he said, “I think it’s time, people. Saddle up.”
He and Harper walked into the nearest shuttle, stripped down as light as possible by the frantic work of Lombardo. The engineer was still sitting in the cockpit, pulling out a recalcitrant emergency transmitter, finally tugging it free through the unrestrained application of brute force. He looked up at the two of them, shaking his head.
“I wish I was going with you,” he said. “The best of luck to all of you. If anyone has a chance of completing this mission, I know you do.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Art, though I’m not sure I share it.” Harper slid into position in the co-pilot’s seat, and Salazar continued, “I’m just sorry I got you into all this. Stranded half-way across the universe.”
With a shrug, the engineer replied, “All part of the risk you run when you put on the uniform, I guess, skipper. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d have followed so far. I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since you saved my life in that underwater city. I always figured I’d end up cashing in the debt at some point.” Looking around the cockpit, he added, “That first pulse of acceleration is going to be a killer. There’s a good chance you’ll black out, so I’ve set the systems to give you a blast of pure oxygen as soon as the engines cut, and the transmitter to emit the loudest tuning signal I can manage. You might end up with a bit of a headache, but a combination of the two ought to wake up a dead man.”
“Thanks for that,” Salazar said. “Good luck, Art.”
“You too, sir.” he replied, walking through the hatch, transmitter in hand. Salazar looked after him for a moment, then sat down in the pilot’s couch, his hands working the controls, noticing the gaps where now-unnecessary control panels had been removed.
“He said he’d be stripping ship. He wasn’t joking,” Salazar said, turning to Harper.
“We’ve lost everything but short-range sensors, all the emergency backups except navigation, and all the gear in the aft cargo compartment.” Reaching up, she said, “I managed to trigger the drop pods to detach as soon as they empty. We won’t have to trigger them manually unless something goes wrong.”
“Safety systems?”
“We’ll be over water when they fall away,” she replied, “so Art and I figured we could dispense with the parachutes. It’s a bit of a risk, but not a major one. We’ll be high up enough that they might burn up on reentry anyway.” Frowning, she added, “This is going to be the strangest flight we’ve ever done. Five hundred miles up, and atmosphere all the way, even with a reduced gravity field.”
“All part of the fun,” Salazar replied, sliding a headset into position. “Shuttle Two, this is Shuttle One, report status.”
“Shuttle Two here,” Clarke said. “All systems green. Ready for takeoff. Last one to the moon buys the beer.”
“I’ll hold you to that, John,” Salazar said with a smile. “Happy landings. Out.” Tapping a control to close the channel, he turned to Harper, and said, “Good kid.”
“Hard to remember that he is just a kid. Twentieth birthday next month. Let’s hope we’re celebrating it on Alamo.” She paused, then added, “Hell, let’s hope we’re celebrating it on Mars.”
“Takeoff in ten seconds,” Salazar said, tugging his restraints into position. “Firing lateral thrusters now.” He lightly tapped a control, and the nose rose on the forward thruster, kicking it clear of the dirt. Reaching down to the throttle, he watched the final seconds fall away on the countdown clock, then eased the control all the way forward, allowing himself to relax into the couch as the acceleration built.
For the first ten seconds, it felt normal, the engines surging to full power, but then the new programming kicked in, hurling the engine far beyond normal levels, to the same sort of boost that would be found in a fighter. The superstructure of the shuttle couldn’t take those stresses for long, but it wouldn’t have to. Likely it was making its last flight, and it would all be over in a matter of minutes. The hull began to vibrate as the engines roared ever louder, drowning out every other noise in the cabin.
Salazar looked up at the sensor controls, noting with satisfaction that Shuttle Two had launched on schedule, less than two seconds behind them, already making up some of that time as Clarke hurled his shuttle into the air. The landing wheels retracted, locking into place beneath them, the force on Salazar’s chest growing by the minute, by the second, each breath a battle against the invisible enemy that was pushing down on him, ever-harder, ever-harder.
A warning light snapped on, then a second, then a third, the conservative engineering subsystems reporting imminent failures of multiple systems. There was nothing he could do about them. He couldn’t even move a finger, and Harper was in the same condition, her head slumping to the side. The acceleration had been too much for her, and she’d fallen unconscious. Right now, it was taking every effort Salazar could muster not to join her in sleep.
Only forty seconds had passed since takeoff. Forty little eternities, with another hundred to live through. The trajectory track showed them on course, the familiar dotted line reaching into eternity. Already they were past theoretical escape velocity, destined to soar out beyond the high atmosphere and into the space between the void. The sensors had picked up tens of thousands of rocks soaring between the surface and the star, perhaps home to unknown wonders, maybe those who had originally constructed the Sphere in the first place.
Though perhaps they were on their way to visit those builders now. Somehow, a moon ten miles across was maintaining a fixed orbit, despite fl
ying within an atmosphere that should have dragged it down to the surface an eternity ago. It should have been impossible by any known physical laws, but the construction of the Sphere itself showed contempt for most of them, and the builders had obviously found ways to circumvent inconveniences such as the fundamental laws of the universe. More secrets to uncover up there, if they could only live to find them.
Thirty seconds to go. Salazar’s vision was blurring around the edges, and he could feel himself growing weaker, every breath a greater struggle. He fought to hold on, fought to keep himself awake and aware, his eyes darting from readout to readout in a desperate struggle to regain consciousness. Every second was a victory against the ever-oppressive force that held him back, that leeched the strength from his body.
Fifteen seconds to go. The moon was still holding track, and this boost of speed had already hurled them a thousand miles. New warning lights appeared, alerting him that the outer hull was heating beyond safe levels. That didn’t matter. Not now. The heat shield could take it for as long as it had to. And he was beginning to think that he could, as well.
Finally, the engines trickled down to minimum power, a surge of energy rushing through his system as the blast of oxygen rushed through the cockpit. Before the tuning signal could sound, he tapped a control to kill it, then reached forward for the controls, making a few quick adjustments to hold them on trajectory. He looked across at Harper, beginning to stir.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded, and replied, “The ship?”
“On course, all in one piece.” Glancing at the fuel gauge, he added, “Fifteen percent left in the tanks. A little better than we expected. Not enough for a powered landing, though.” He looked up at the warning lights on the monitor panel, and said, “Though I don’t think that’s going to matter.”
Battlecruiser Alamo_Cries in the Dark Page 4
