Battlecruiser Alamo_Cries in the Dark

by Richard Tongue

   “Look at that!” Murdoch said, gesturing at the monitor screen, the static-filled display showing an image of the moonlet, finally breaking into a million fragments as the force of the violent acceleration proved too much, the structure disintegrating and falling back towards the Sphere. For a moment, silence reigned as the death of a world played out.

   And then, at the end, a single, bright star flew out of the heart of the structure, flying down, down towards the exit point Alamo had used, escaping out into free space an instant later. Tears flowed over Harper’s cheeks as she turned to Salazar, holding him close.

   “She made it. She finally made it. I think she was afraid to leave, all alone. She needed someone to take with her. I think we gave her what she was looking for.” Looking up at him, she continued, “Would you have waited until the end?”

   “I wouldn’t have left without you. Whether that meant getting locked into the same cybernetic oblivion or going on a final trip to the surface, I wasn’t going to leave you behind, and I never will.” The deck rumbled, sirens sounding to break the reverie, and he said, “Stations, everyone. I don’t know how much more of this the ship can take, but I do know that we’ve got a date with a wormhole, and that’s something I don’t want to miss.”

   The two of them dived into the elevator, the mechanism protesting as the doors slammed shut, hurling them towards their destination. After so many months on the Sphere, it almost felt strange to be back, the familiar feel of the ship gradually flooding through them once more, the tang of artificial air instead of the natural air of the surface.

   Then the ship rocked again, the lights dying as the emergency systems kicked in, the elevator slowing to a crawl as it continued up the decks.

   “Do you really think the ship can make it?” Harper asked.

   “There’s only one way to find out,” he replied.

  Chapter 27

   Alamo rocked forward, moving out of trajectory, and Orlova struggled to hold her on course, her hands moving across the controls as she tried to balance the thrusters, locking the ship onto the dotted line that would see them to safety. Behind her, the elevator doors opened, but she couldn’t look up, not even for a second, knowing that the slightest inattention would bring their trip to an end. Cool hands moved onto the console, and she felt someone leaning over her, a familiar figure.

   “I’ll take her, Captain,” Salazar said, sliding into the chair as she vacated it, moving back to the familiar command chair. “Course projection stable. Wormhole in two hundred and three seconds. I hope.”

   “I’m on the sensors,” Harper said. “Just like old times, Maggie.”

   “Just like,” Orlova said, settling down at the heart of the bridge. “The ship’s falling apart, and we’ve only got a few moments to pull out of the dive.” She looked up at the viewscreen, seemingly empty space before them. It seemed impossible to conceive that they were only seconds from home, and yet, somehow, despite everything, they were almost at their goal.

   The ship was falling to pieces, Fitzroy struggling to keep the systems going for a little longer. Now she had another worry. If Alamo emerged in an uninhabited part of space, it might still be months before they were rescued. Whether the ship could navigate at all was a moot point. Everything was being sacrificed to get them to their goal.

   “Engine Five is out,” Salazar said. “Fitz, I need more power, now!”

   “There’s nothing left,” the engineer replied. “I’m not sure why the main reactor is still working, half the safety systems have failed.” Tapping a control, he added, “Two hundred and seven hull breaches, Captain. She can’t take any more of this!”

   “Sixty seconds to wormhole threshold,” Salazar said. “We might end up going through in a hundred pieces, but we’re getting through! Kris, I’m going to need the best possible course projection you can give me. I’ll have to thread the needle on the first try, and twenty meters isn’t good enough.”

   “Working on it,” she said. “I can give you five. That’s the best I can do with the sensors at current resolution. We’ve lost most of the pickups.”

   “I’ll take it,” he replied. Orlova looked around the bridge, the communications console flickering out as the network crashed, red warning lights bathing every station. Alamo had been in some bad places before, but her crew had never asked quite this much of her in the past. That she was still in one piece was a miracle, but they were running out of time, and everyone on the bridge knew it.

   The only abort option was their most desperate. A return to the surface, to what might be a controlled crash landing, but more likely a meteoric impact. Some of them might survive, but they’d never have a second chance to get home. It was worth it. It was worth all of it.

   “Ten seconds!” Salazar yelled. “Hold onto something! This is going to be rough.” Stabbing a control, he said, “If anyone out there can hear me, brace for severe turbulence! We’re going through!”

   At the last second, he tapped a control, bringing the nose up by a fraction of a degree, and Alamo slid smoothly into the wormhole entrance, the Sphere vanishing as they transited the length of the shortcut in space, the hull whining and complaining from the superspace stresses, the lights finally failing for the last time as Salazar struggled to nurse the weary ship through to the other end. With a loud report, the struggling power grid finally failed, and the viewscreen faded, just as the vibration on the hull finally ceased.

   “What happened?” Harper asked.

   “We’re through,” Salazar said. “My God, we’re through. We made it.” Turning to Orlova, he said, “Though I haven’t got the faintest idea just where that might be.”

   “Fitzroy, can you get me a damage report?” Orlova asked, struggling to her feet.

   With a deep sigh, the engineer replied, “Main reactor is gone, and so is the auxiliary. We’re on battery power alone. The backup solar array is history. That gives us about twelve hours of life support, and nothing else.” Tapping controls, he added, “Not that it matters. The superstructure is gone, ma’am. Shattered into a million pieces. We couldn’t even move on our thrusters.”

   “Life support?”

   “Working after a fashion, but the thermostat…” Shaking his head, he turned to her, and said, “She’s dead in space, ma’am. There’s no other way to put it. She’ll keep us alive for a few hours more, but that’s it. Alamo’s come to the end of her journey.”

   “Sensors?” Orlova asked.

   “If any of the pickups are working, then I can’t access them from here,” Harper said. “I think you’re going to have to count them out as well, ma’am.” Throwing controls, she added, “No internal communications, either. I think the Chief tried to run the power systems through it at the last minute. It could never take the load for long. That means that every connector on the ship is history.” The hull creaked, and she added, “We ought to think about evacuation.”

   “Where to?” Fitzroy asked.

   “There’s only one way to find out,” Orlova said, rising to her feet. “Pavel, do you fancy a walk?”

   “Hey, wait a minute,” the engineer protested. “The ship will be surrounded by debris, some of it moving at high relative speed. If you make a wrong move, it’ll slice you in two.”

   “Not a problem,” Salazar said. “We probably won’t have the leave the airlock. The ship came through with a slight spin on its axis.” He floated free, and said, “Rotational gravity’s gone as well. That won’t hurt.”

   “Spaceman, I need the internal communications back on. Anything you can manage.” Orlova paused, then said, “Just enough to order the crew to abandon ship if it comes to that.”

   Nodding, Fitzroy replied, “I’ll see what I can do, Captain.”

   “Harper, you have the bridge. Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

   “Aye, ma’am,” she replied. “Be careful, you two.”

   “Will do,” Sala
zar said, drifting towards the airlock, reaching for a suit, struggling to lock the pieces in place as he tumbled around the room, narrowly missing slamming into the wall. The two of them carefully donned their suits, each checking the other, waiting for the green lights to flash on. Orlova led the way through the opened inner door, sealing it shut, locking a safety line on Salazar’s suit.

   “At least this is still working,” Salazar said, as Orlova worked the airlock mechanism. “All air vented. Let’s see where we ended up.”

   “Releasing outer door,” she replied, and the hatch swung open to reveal a sea of stars beyond. For a moment, she grimaced, but then she started to pick out familiar constellations, old celestial guideposts, and the internal computer of her suit identified known stellar landmarks.

   “I’ve got Canopus. And Polaris,” Salazar said. “Maggie, I think...”

   She looked up, and saw a view that left no room for doubt. Swirling green clouds, thin rings, a world that she knew very well indeed.

   Uranus.

   They’d made it.

   “Quick,” she said, turning to Salazar, “Link your suit to mine. I want to boost the communicator as strong as I can.” Shaking her head, she added, “I should have known we’d end up here.”

   “The alien base on Desdemona.”

   “You know about that?”

   “Double-Ultra security clearance is what got me in this mess to start with.” Tapping a control, he added, “There you go. I’ll start trying to work out our exact position. One of the shuttles is still intact down in the hangar deck. If all else fails, I’ll make my way along the outside of the hull, try to take it to one of the local outposts.

   “This is Lieutenant-Captain Margaret Orlova to any station, any station. This is Lieutenant-Captain Margaret Orlova calling any station, any station. Reply at once. Reply at once.”

   “Maggie?” a familiar voice replied. “This is Major Gabrielle Esposito, commanding Shakespeare Station. Please confirm your identity. I need something for voiceprint recognition.”

   “Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. That enough?”

   “It’ll do. My God. Where the hell did you come from.”

   “The Andromeda Galaxy,” she replied. “It’s a long, long story. Listen, I’m declaring an immediate emergency. I’ve got a hundred and thirty one people out here, and all of them are going to need to be evacuated as soon as possible.”

   “Lieutenant-Captain Salazar, breaking in. We’re about a million miles from you, on an orbit that’s heading in your direction. Somehow we managed to get through the wormhole with enough speed to keep us out of the atmosphere for a while, but Maggie’s right. We’re going to need rescue right away.”

   “Captain Marshall?” Esposito asked.

   “He didn’t make it,” Orlova replied.

   “I’ve got six shuttles in the air now, with rescue and relief teams.” There was a pause, and she said, “Wow. I’m getting some telemetry from Alamo. What the hell did you do to her?”

   “Try a thousand-mile atmospheric burn following a close flyby of a quantum singularity.”

   “As soon as the dust settles, you two are going to give me a full report. I have a feeling this is a story I’m not going to want to miss. Triplanetary Fleet Headquarters is being informed as we speak. If you can get me a casualty list...”

   “Dumping it to you now, Major,” Salazar said. “Along with letters for their families. I’d appreciate it if they could get to them as soon as possible.”

   “I’ll see to it myself. Keep your channel open. The first shuttle should be along in about two hours. Can you hold out that long?”

   “I think so. Thanks, Gabi. It’s nice to hear a friendly voice on the other end of a communicator again. Alamo out.”

   The airlock opened, and Harper stepped out, saying, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?”

   “I thought…,” Orlova said.

   “Lombardo made it up with a repair team, so I left him in charge. Unless we can get the network working, there’s nothing much I can do back there anyway.” She looked up, and said, “We’re home. All the way?”

   “All the way. Right back where we started, just about.” Looking down at the battered, ruined hull, Orlova said, “She was a good ship.”

   “What do you mean, was?” Salazar said.

   “She might be right,” Harper replied, with a deep sigh. “Almost every system will have to be replaced, the hull is in pieces, the life support system is a hopeless wreck, the laser cannon’s gone, and...”

   Tapping the armor, Salazar said, “She got us home. All the way. Three million light years out, and back again. She’s saved the Confederation a dozen times, and she’s still got plenty of life in her yet. It’ll take a while...”

   “That’s putting it mildly, Pavel.”

   “But she’ll fly again. You can count on that. No matter what it takes. After everything this old girl has done for us, that seems like the least we can do.” He paused, then added, “There’s a lot of space she hasn’t seen yet. A million stars yet to explore.” He looked at Harper, and said, “You seem rather pensive.”

   “Just wondering,” she said. “I left a copy of myself back there, with the AI. Another me, and one that will live for a million years, wandering through space.” She frowned, then said, “Or was it a copy? Am I the copy, and is that me out there, back in Andromeda, flying through the stars?”

   “A million years,” Orlova said. “I don’t know whether I envy your alter ego or not. Long after we’re all turned to dust, you’ll still be wandering the stars. Maybe until the end of time.”

   “Maybe,” Harper said. “It’s a strange thought.”

   “There,” Salazar said, pointing at the sky. “I see the first shuttle, banking in our direction. Help’s on the way.” Turning to Harper, he added, “Don’t worry, Kris. We’ll be flying out among the stars again before you know it. Count on it.”

  Epilogue

   Harper paced the cramped office, walking from one wall to another in less than a dozen paces, while Lombardo looked out at the street, at the Senate beyond, watching the crowd ebb past. Foster sat in a corner, playing with a datapad, while Scott examined the pictures on the wall, cheap reproductions of old Masters from Earth, many copied from originals long since destroyed.

   “How long can it possibly take?” she asked, shaking her head.

   “It’s only been twenty minutes,” Lombardo replied. “Relax.”

   “You try and relax,” she said.

   “The longer it takes, the better,” Foster said, still scrutinizing her report. “They’ll be going over every detail, every analysis. If he’d walked out of there in five minutes, I’d be worried.”

   “Better get worried,” Lombardo said. “He’s on his way.”

   “How does he look?” Harper asked.

   Turning to her with a wry smile, he said, “We’re five floors up. I couldn’t exactly get a clear look at his face.” With a sigh, he said, “Three months of work, and it all comes down to this. Three months of inspection, cost-projection. If I see another shipping schedule, I think I’ll go crazy.”

   “They won’t do it,” Harper said, shaking her head. “Maybe we could go over the contracts for the upgraded hendecaspace drive again. There might be a way to shave a few credits off that deal. Perhaps...”

   “There isn’t,” Scott replied. “We went over that five times. If you want a ship that can actually manage a hendecaspace jump, you’re going to need to spend some money on it. Besides, we only get one shot at this.” She tapped her pocket, and said, “If this falls through, I’m off to the Academy for a year. Apparently they think I know something about space warfare.”

   “Don’t say it,” Lombardo said. “If this falls though, I’m out. Quantum Lines made me another offer, and if this doesn’t...”

   “Stop,” Foster
interrupted, raising a hand. “Listen to yourselves. Let’s just wait and see what Pavel has to say, right?”

   The elevator door opened, and Salazar walked out, resplendent in his dress uniform, a neutral expression on his face. The others looked at him, and he walked over to the window, looking out at the street.

   “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” he asked.

   “Good news first,” Lombardo said.

   “My promotion to Lieutenant-Captain is hereby confirmed. It wasn’t unanimous, not by any means, but it looks like I’ve staying at the same rank for a while.”

   “And the bad news?” Harper asked, walking over to him.

   “We’re going to be pretty damned busy for the next year or so.” Holding up a datapad, he said, “They signed off on the rebuild. The whole deal. We’re back in business.”

  Thank you for reading 'Secrets of the Sphere'. For information on future releases, please join the author's Science-Fiction Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.

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  The Battlecruiser Alamo Saga will resume soon...

  As a bonus, read on to enjoy the Logan Winter ‘Lost Alamo’ short story, ‘Dreams in the Dust’.

  Dreams in the Dust

  I

   Long Shot had been settled by accident, thirty years ago, when a survey ship had found itself stranded in an otherwise unremarkable system, months before the outbreak of the Interplanetary War. Fifteen years had passed before the galactic situation had permitted the launch of a rescue expedition, during which time the castaways had managed to establish themselves as a permanent settlement, and found enough gadolinium to justify the expense of colonial expansion.