“I’ll hold you to that, Lieutenant. We’ll keep things moving here. Orlova out.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t lead the landing team yourself,” Francis said.
Turning to him, she said, “I thought about it. Couldn’t justify it, though, much as I’d like to. Foster can do everything that has to be done. Is Sickbay standing by?”
“Doctor Strickland has his full staff ready. And I’ve cleared the emergency airlocks for a quick transfer if it becomes necessary. All fighters are on standby for immediate scramble.”
“Five seconds,” Quesada said, his hands poised over the controls, ready to override the automatic systems should it be necessary. Orlova leaned forward, watching as the familiar blue flash washed over the screen, Alamo returning to normal space. Immediately, the view was dominated by the Sphere, a ball of metal millions of miles across. Everything seemed just as it had been when they left.
“Sensors,” Orlova said. “Report!”
“Wait one,” the technician replied. “No enemy ships in system, Captain. I’m picking up a couple of monitoring probes, sensor packages, I think. They painted us as soon as we emerged. No sign of defenses, though, ma’am. I think we’re clear. I’ve got a good reading on the entrance, and it’s still open. In my judgment we can proceed as planned.”
“I concur,” Francis said, looking over the technician’s shoulder.
“Bridge to Foster. Launch when ready. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Alamo,” Foster replied. “Initiating launch procedure.”
“Helm, begin approach pattern, just as we planned. Let’s make this good. Get us as close as you can to the entrance for as long as possible.” Turning to Scott, she said, “See if you can hack into those Hegemonic satellites. If they’ve been there for a while, they might have some sensor data we can make use of. See if anyone else has come visiting in our absence.”
“On it,” Scott replied.
“Shuttles have cleared Alamo, estimated entry in one minute,” Francis said. “All telemetry looks good at the moment.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” she replied. “Sensors, anything in the deep system, anything reacting to our presence?”
“Negative, ma’am,” the technician said. “I have got something on the surface, though. I’m picking up a larger entrance point, about five thousand miles from our current location. Ten times bigger than the access way we’re using now. There’s some residual atmosphere outside, so it must have been opened at some point in the recent past.”
“How recent, Spaceman?” she asked. “Give me a number.”
“Within the last couple of weeks, ma’am. Seven to twelve days. That’s the best I can do.”
Nodding, she turned to Francis, and said, “Let’s get a probe sent out that way, a surface lander. I want the best possible imagery of that sight, just in case anyone is planning a little surprise. Quesada, modify our flight path to keep well clear of that location.”
“Aye, ma’am. We’d have been going right over it on our ninth orbit of the singularity.” Looking at the readouts, he whistled, and said, “I could fly Alamo through that passage.”
“Let’s file that under the heading of ‘last resort’, Sub-Lieutenant. Sensors, anything?”
“No change, ma’am.” He paused, then added, “Nothing significant has changed in the outer system since our last visit. A few updates to some of the courses of the debris, but nothing likely to affect us this close in. We have a clear transit track to the far hendecaspace point.”
Nodding, Quesada added, “Course is computed, Captain, and I can implement it as soon as our shuttles get back on board. We’re looking at about two thousand hours and change.”
“Signal, Captain!” the communications technician yelled. “I’ve made contact with the surface team!”
With a happy sigh, Orlova said, “Put Pavel on.”
The technician shook his head, and replied, “It’s not Captain Salazar, ma’am. I have Senior Lieutenant McCormack for you.”
Glancing at Francis, she said, “Put her on.”
“Alamo, this is Base Camp,” McCormack said, a moment later. “I understand that you have a shuttle flight on the way? Our people are assembling right now, ready for transit, and should be able to fit inside two shuttles.” She paused, and said, “I must at this time inform you that Lieutenant-Captain Salazar, Lieutenant Harper, and Sub-Lieutenants Clarke and Mortimer are not on the base.”
“Where the hell are they?” Orlova asked.
“We found a potential clue to the wormhole map, ma’am, and Captain Salazar and the others took our two shuttles to investigate. He left strict orders that nobody was to come after them, and that if Alamo arrived before he returned, that the safety of the ship and its crew should come first.” She paused, then added, “I have the flier here, Captain, and we still have access to the rapid transit system. In addition, we have a positive track on the location of Clarke and Mortimer, and Lance-Sergeant Fox, Lieutenant Lombardo and I request permission to proceed to their relief.”
Shaking his head, Francis replied, “We can’t let them, Captain. I’d guess that they were on their way out the door when we arrived, but we’re already down four people.” Looking at the sensor screen, he added, “We’re making excellent progress, but at any moment, the sensors will register dimensional interference, and all hell will break loose. We’ve got to get our people out while we have a chance.”
“Agreed.” Tapping a control again, she said, “McCormack, stand by for the shuttle. It should be landing in about five minutes, and I want a clean, quick evacuation. Do you understand? Clean and quick.”
“Sorry, Alamo, I didn’t hear that,” McCormack replied. “Static on the line. I’ll try and clear it up.”
“She damned well did,” Scott said. “And Captain, for the record, if I was down there, I don’t think I’d have heard you either.”
“McCormack,” Orlova barked, “I understand your loyalty to your shipmates, but you will all stand by for the shuttle, and that is a direct order!”
There was a long pause, and the fighter pilot replied, “What would you do if you were down here, ma’am? And why did you come back for us in the first place? Out.”
“She’s got you there, skipper,” Francis said with a wry smile.
“There’s nothing funny about this, Lieutenant. Sensors, give me some good news.”
“No sign of dimensional instability, Captain, and no sign of any unwanted presence in the system. So far, so good.”
“Elapsed time?”
“Seven minutes, six seconds.” Francis looked down at his panel, and said, “Signal from Foster. A buggy has left Base Camp, heading out towards the railway junction. She’s willing to head out and attempt to pick them up with the second shuttle...”
“Negative!” Orlova said. “Stick with the plan. McCormack and the others knew what they were doing, and I will not, can not, jeopardize the safety of this ship and the rest of the crew for them.” She looked around the bridge, and said, “We’ll wait as long as we dare, but as soon as enemy forces arrive in-system, we put ourselves on the escape trajectory and get out of here.”
Frowning, Francis replied, “She heard you, Captain. You were on speaker.” He moved over to her, and quietly asked, “Do you plan...”
“I’d face a mutiny if I brought the three of them up on charges for what they did, Lieutenant. And there’s something in what McCormack said, as well. If the roles were reversed, I’d probably have done exactly the same thing, but that’s no damned excuse.” Taking a breath, she said, “We’ll do what we can, and no more. I can hold the ship here for a few hours, but that’s about as far as I can manage.”
“Captain,” the sensor technician said, “I’m picking up something on the mid-ranged sensors. I think it was hiding behind the singularity.”
“Didn’t you launc
h a probe to fill that dead spot?” Francis snapped.
“Yes, sir, I did, and it’s not showing up any malfunctions, but it isn’t reading anything. I’m only picking the object up on visual sensors.” Throwing controls, he added, “Doesn’t match any known ships or satellites. Nothing from the Hegemony. The design pattern looks different. Alien.”
Orlova opened a channel, and said, “Val, I need you on the way back right away. We’ve got enemy incoming, and I don’t know how much time I’ll be able to give you.”
“We’re on the way, Captain,” she said. “All loaded and ready to go.” She paused, and said, “I’ve managed to fit everyone on a single shuttle. I request permission to leave Shuttle Two behind, in case any of our people manage to make it back to Base Camp. At least it will give them a chance, ma’am.”
“Very well, but get spaceborne, and make it quick!”
“Dimensional instability, Captain!” Scott said. “Close abaft, at the near hendecaspace point. Estimate four capital ships, arriving in-system in less than one minute.”
“Damn it,” Francis said, “How the hell did they react that quickly?”
“They didn’t bother getting into battle formation,” Orlova said, shaking her head. “They just went full-burn for the egress point. That might give us an advantage. Quesada, intercept course, maximum acceleration.” Looking at the display, she said, “Launch fighters in three minutes, thirty seconds to escort the shuttle back to Alamo. It should be on a safe vector most of the way.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the helmsman said, while Scott frantically moved to obey her commands. The status panel showed the shuttle lifting from the surface, racing back to Alamo, using every particle of thrust to get home as quickly as it could with its precious cargo, fourteen crewmen waiting to return to their ship.
“What about the unknown target, Spaceman?” Francis asked.
“No idea, sir. A long cylinder, but no sign of any other apparatus. For the present, it’s just sitting there.” Looking up at a control panel, he said, “Here they come, Captain! Enemy targets inbound, four ships, thirty seconds apart, on divergent courses.”
“Pick one, Quesada, on a course that gives us a clear escape route. Maximum acceleration.”
The helmsman’s hands raced across the controls as he hastened to obey, throwing Alamo around on a new vector, weapons struggling to come to bear. They had one chance to even the odds, at least a little, and they had to take it, no matter the risks. Orlova looked up at the viewscreen, watching as the shuttle raced from the Sphere, praying that she could react faster than the Hegemonic task force.
As she’d hoped, the enemy commander was playing a conservative game, moving his pieces carefully into position before committing to the attack. Alamo’s radiator wings extended, shimmering in the starlight as they prepared for the battle. Up ahead, the Hegemonic formation slowly slid into formation, but one of them was drifting off to the left, forced to enter the system with unwanted velocity, struggling to take its place with the others. That was their target.
“We’ll get one shot at this, ma’am, and then be on a pretty wild vector,” Quesada said. “I think I can bring us around again, but it’s going to take at least forty-eight hours before we can return to the exit point.” He turned to her, and said, “Or I could punch in for our escape trajectory. We’d have the perfect chance to break through the formation and get clean away on this pass.”
She looked up at Francis, and frowned. There were at least seven people from Alamo still stuck on the Sphere, and more from Monitor, her last command. She’d be leaving them to their fate if she left now. Worse, the Sphere was still the best chance they had of finding a way home. They’d found no other leads.
Looking up at the display, she said, “Can you execute a slingshot around the singularity? Use that to deflect our course on the return path, give us a gravity boost?”
“I think so, Captain, but it’ll be a tricky orbit,” the helmsman replied.
“Then execute that course, Sub-Lieutenant. We can trim our trajectory as necessary during the flyby.” Turning to Scott, she said, “Target engines, Lieutenant. In an ideal world, I’d love them to crash into the Sphere, but I’ll settle for leaving them stranded.”
“Aye, ma’am. Firing range in thirty seconds. Missiles on defensive play, lasers offensive. They aren’t launching the fighters yet.”
“They’ve got the same problem with the singularity that we do,” Francis replied, “and they probably don’t know what we’re doing. They’re hedging their bets.”
“Smart,” Orlova replied.
“The shuttle’s docking now, Captain,” Francis said. “All safe, all well. I’m having them sent to Sickbay for a check-up, just to be on the safe side.”
Nodding, Orlova turned to Tactical, and said, “Lieutenant, fire at will.”
“Aye, ma’am. Firing range in five seconds, nine second window.”
Fast even for space warfare, but the two ships would flash past each other almost too quickly to react. The rest of the formation was struggling to catch up, but were moving into position behind them, as though the enemy commander had admitted that his undue haste in the pursuit of Alamo was going to have consequences he could do nothing to mitigate.
Alamo’s nose swung around as Quesada cut their thrust for the briefest possible second, allowing a beam of light to race from one ship to the other, burning an angry gash down the side of the enemy cruiser’s hull. The ship swung to the side from the force of expelled atmosphere, launching missiles in a desperate bid to retaliate, but Scott was faster, firing a sextet of warheads into the sky, targets racing towards mutual annihilation.
Ten missiles flew into the hellstorm. One emerged, still locked onto the enemy cruiser, a knife perfectly poised to stab into the gaping wound already carved into the Hegemonic ship. A second explosion followed, and the vessel began to tumble out of control, engines died, shuttles racing away as her crew sped to safety.
“Excellent work, Lieutenant,” Orlova said. “Quesada, hold your course.”
“Aye, ma’am. We’ll have one window to rescue our people in forty-seven hours, ten minutes, but the delta-v required is going to push our shuttles to the limit.”
“We’ve got two days to make the necessary modifications.” Rising to her feet, she said, “Scott, you have the conn. Francis, you’re with me. Let’s go and find out just what the hell is happening down there.”
Chapter 11
A ball of liquid descended slowly towards Salazar, and with practiced care, he sucked it towards him, drinking the water in a quick, eager gulp. He hadn’t been able to even look at his watch since being imprisoned, but it had to have been at least a day since he’d been captured by the winged humanoids. He’d almost begun to give up hope that they’d ever come back when one of them, the one who had hauled him from the moon in the wake of his disastrous attempt to destroy the AI, drifted carefully down the shift, sliding to the wall in a bid to avoid being captured by the gravity sink.
“How are you feeling?” the humanoid asked.
“Hungry and tired,” Salazar replied. “Have you decided to talk to me at last?”
“You’ll have to understand that trust is a very precious commodity.”
Frowning, Salazar said, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you speak English, I suppose.”
Reaching to his ear, the humanoid said, “Subcutaneous implant. Works by translating sounds and the manipulation of vocal chords. The result is instant translation, though you might find the odd strange turn of phrase now and then. It only works on languages in its database, of course, but English is spoken on the Sphere by about half a billion people.”
Raising an eyebrow, Salazar said, “That many?”
“It caught on as a trade language. Long story, though I suspect you’ll be wanting copies of our historical records before we leave.” The creature paused, and as
ked, “Why are you here?”
“That’s a long, long story.”
“Both of us have plenty of time.”
With a wry smile, Salazar replied, “I’m Lieutenant-Captain Pavel Salazar, commanding officer of the Triplanetary Battlecruiser Alamo. We were investigating some ship disappearances when we were caught in a wormhole, about eight months ago, and thrown out here into Andromeda. Since then, we’ve been attempting to find a way home, and we figured that the Sphere was the most likely place to find the records we were looking for. We know that there is a wormhole heading back to the Milky Way, but we don’t know where.”
Frowning, the figure said, “And the explosive charge? Is that something you carry often?”
“Eighteen of our people were captured by yours. I was hoping to rescue them, but we also found plenty of evidence that every civilization for ten thousand miles around was being threatened by that little moon out there. So yes, I decided to destroy the damned thing if I could. How many billion lives would that have saved?”
“And what business are those lives to you? You’ve never met any of the people in those civilizations, and some of them are not human, or even human-descended. Why should you risk your life, almost throw it away, for their benefit?”
“Because it is the right thing to do. Because someone must. There’s an old saying back home about evil triumphing at the inactivity of good.”
“Your philosophy is that stark, that limited, that you see only good or bad?”
“No, but when I’m looking at a flying army shooting up anything that moves, deploying electronic jamming that prevents billions of people reaching their full potential, I’m fairly secure in describing it as ‘bad’. Though if you have a different opinion, I’ll be happy to hear it. But that’s not why we’re here, and we both know it. You want a reason to trust me, and you want to know what my motivations are, because we need each other.”
“Oh?”
“Why else would you rescue me?”
Battlecruiser Alamo_Cries in the Dark Page 8
