He pondered that one for a minute, and shook his head. "The Chiefs might go for it – a good way to get some nice public relations for minimal risk. Lots of pictures of happy children and grateful parents; I was in on the evacuation of that anarchist compound on Eureka, and we spent more time talking to journalists than we did down at the settlement. I don't want it to get to that point."
"So our actions must be carefully judged to ensure that we do no harm to the colony that would force an evacuation. I would suggest you enter that as an official mission parameter in the logs, in the event of your incapacitation."
"Noted. I also note that such a parameter does not exclude launching another raid to find and release the prisoners."
"Counting the shuttle that is on loan from Spaceman Orlova, we have only capacity to take off thirty people at a time."
Marshall nodded, "Which means that we'd have to make at least two, possibly three trips, assuming we use all the remaining espatiers. That's a long time to hold an airhead.”
"First we have to find them, Captain. It's a large planet, and their installations are all based on the same template; hence they are similar enough that we would detect few features from orbit."
"If we get communications with the planet for a moment, that needs to be passed on to Ensign Esposito as a top priority – make sure all of the duty communications technicians know to pass that along. In the meanwhile, see what you can do with pattern analysis of traffic."
Dietz frowned, "That could take some time with such a small population."
"Then we'd best get started now. Dismissed, Lieutenant."
The officer nodded, stood to attention, and left the room. Marshall called up an image of the planet's surface, picked up during the most recent pass. Not much detail was visible in the inhabited area; a heavy blizzard was setting in, and the cloud cover provided almost total obscurity. He looked at his watch; likely the Governor would be requesting to stay for dinner based on the weather below. More work undone, more time spent in his heavy number ones. Still, he couldn't begrudge the Governor. No way he'd want to travel in conditions like that.
Chapter 16
The biting wind tore through Orlova's cold-weather jacket; for the fiftieth time she was regretting her decision to go along with Esposito when she insisted on immediately leaving to speak with the Free Parliament on behalf of the freighter crews. Forbes had required considerable convincing to leave the warm interior of the shuttle, only relenting when Hunter insisted on going along as well.
Visibility was getting dangerously close to zero; flurries of snow danced around Orlova's feet, the mask strapped in front of her mouth seeming a poor shield from the weather. Loops of cabling connected the four people together, Forbes hunched over his old navicomputer, trying to keep his way in the storm.
When they had set out, he had claimed that it was just a couple of hours' walking distance, but it seemed like they had been struggling across the landscape for almost forever, trudging their way through an endless wilderness of white. That Esposito seemed to be having no problem with the forced march was slightly annoying.
Being cold was a reasonably new experience for Orlova; life in a collection of colonies and spaceships had meant that room temperature, with the occasional sauna, was the limit of her experience. Her teeth chattered, involuntarily, and she reached down to adjust the temperature control on her jacket, finding for the fifth time that the elements were at maximum, but trying to turn the dial slightly further to the right in the faint hope that an additional trace of energy could still be squeezed out of the system.
It was her feet that were the worst; they felt like two blocks of ice, sliding across the ground, numb. When Forbes had said that it was a five mile walk; hell, she could do that on a treadmill without breaking a serious sweat, but this was different. Treadmills didn't have sharp rocks, didn't slope up and down, and she didn't have to keep making detours to stay out of sight.
Nor was the view particularly spectacular, even when there was some visibility to enjoy it. Ragnarok might be an excellent site to choose for a now-redundant last refuge for mankind, but as a tourist site it didn't have very much to commend it. Nothing but endless white with the occasional rocky outcrop, and tall, snow covered mountains in the distance. Forbes had said something about the area being a sheet of ice a mile deep, as had once existed on Earth, but to her – ice was something that was found in cubes at the bottom of a drink.
Finally, Forbes raised his hand and chopped it up and down twice; Orlova could just make out a red light on the horizon, a beam pointed in their direction. The quartet trudged their way through the snow, their tracks immediately covered by the growing blizzard. No danger of any Government fliers spotting them, no danger of them even venturing from their bases in this weather.
The light grew larger and larger as they closed in, and a series of loud, shrill whistles began to sound, blasting through the roar of the wind. As they approached, a door opened, and a trio of men wearing camouflage, carrying rifles that were barely more advanced than the one Forbes had slung across his back, walked out into the snow, helping them into the domed building. One of them had a pair of pips crudely drawn onto each shoulder, the others each had a single v-stripe on their arms.
Pips was the first one to speak, clapping Forbes on the back, "What the devil is an old-time rock smasher doing out in a blizzard? Thought you would know better." With his mask off, pips was a young redhead with pale skin that had obviously rarely seen sunlight, the beginnings of a mustache on the top of his lip.
Forbes grunted in reply, then gestured around, "These three are from the Triplanetary mob, Clive. Same as that freighter crewmen you have here."
"Oh?" Clive replied, beginning to reach for his pistol – meeting a similar response from Esposito and Hunter.
"Relax, you idiot. They're on our side. I watched them shoot up a group of guardsmen out at the landing field, one of the Governor's clowns tried to arrest them on landing," Forbes said. "Now how about some hot coffee, mate?"
"That can wait a bit," Esposito said. "Are you in charge here?"
"Me? I'm just a humble Lieutenant, ma'am." He turned to Hunter, "How can we help you?"
With a sigh, Esposito continued, "I am Ensign Esposito, from the Triplanetary Starship Alamo currently orbiting your planet, and in command of the landing force." He gestured at the others, "This is Spaceman Orlova, my shuttle pilot, and Lance-Sergeant Hunter, my senior NCO."
Clive's eyebrows raised; clearly this was something he wasn't used to. "You'll have to forgive me, Ensign. We don't tend to have women in our militia. I'm First Lieutenant Clive Grainger, second-in-command of our garrison here at Fort Sterling."
"I'd like to see the crewmen you have at this facility, as soon as possible. I understand that he is being put on trial? What for?"
The young lieutenant looked extremely uncomfortable, looking at Forbes who shrugged in response. "That might be difficult to arrange, ma'am."
"Indeed?" The door opened, and a tall, powerfully-built gray-haired man wearing a neat khaki uniform walked in, a crossed sword-and-baton on each shoulder. The three soldiers stood to attention, while Forbes looked on with an air of indifference. Esposito turned and saluted.
"May I present Ensign Esposito of the Triplanetary Fleet, General?" Clive said. "Ensign, this is General Haynes, the commander of the resistance, and Acting Prime Minister of the Free Parliament."
Haynes turned to the lieutenant, "I'm capable of introducing myself, Clive. Why don't you and your guys take Forbes down to the pub while I take our guests from space into my office for a chat? That suit you, Ensign?"
Esposito nodded, "That's what I came here for, sir."
The general gestured towards a door, leading the way down a long curving corridor that seemed to extend around most of the perimeter of the dome, keeping up a running commentary throughout,
"Officially, this is a research installation for genetically modified crops – which means that visitors ar
e extremely discouraged. That research got stopped months back, though, wasn't working out, but we never let the Governor know. Serves as an excellent base for us, and is defended well enough that we could give anyone a bloody nose if they were stupid enough to try something."
"Have you been attacked?" Orlova asked, looking around the room.
"Not yet, but that ass of a Governor's building up the nerve to try something like that. Trouble is that we still have a lot of valuable research materials that we'd be able to bargain with if it came to the crunch, and he's not going to want to risk losing them in a full-scale firefight. Both of us have too damn much to lose."
The group walked into the general's office; he gestured them towards spartan plastic chairs while he made his way over to a cabinet, pouring four generous drinks out of a bottle, then sealing it up with great care. He passed the plastic cups around, took a quick sip, sighed, and sat behind his desk, resting his elbows on its surface in a relaxed posture.
"I'm afraid I was listening in to the conversation you were having with the lieutenant. He'll be a good officer when he grows up, I reckon, but a bit stiff these days. If Bill Forbes says that you are on our side, I'm going to believe him, hard as it sounds, and I reckon I'm even willing to let you speak to your crewman, but I have a horrible feeling that I'm going to end up disappointing you."
"In what way, sir?" Esposito asked.
"You're going to want to take him back up to that ship of yours, and I don't think I can let that happen."
Orlova took a sip of the drink, and gagged a little; she didn't think that it deserved the loving attention that had been provided to it by the general. "Why not? What charges have you against him?"
The general's face reddened, and he looked out of the small window at his office as the storm began to fade. "It isn't a question of charges, as it goes. More a question of politics."
"Politics?" Esposito asked, her hand reaching down slightly towards her holster.
The door slid open, and three men – led by the lieutenant – stepped in, each carrying rather deadly looking modern plasma rifles, all of them of a make similar to the weapons they had found on Mariner Station, manufactured in the Lunar Republic. Esposito and Hunter reached down quickly for their pistols before thinking better of it, and instead let them remain in their holsters.
"General, I must point out that our ship is in orbit, and that it has sufficient space-to-ground capability to give you a very bad day when they find out where we are," Esposito said.
"I'm afraid that I don't believe that your commander would put you at such risk. Orbital weaponry is excellent strategically, and even in some battlefield situations, but it lacks finesse. Besides, we have ships up there as well that are more than capable of handling your Alamo."
Orlova smiled, "You don't know our commander. He'll do what it takes to get us back."
The general slid a datapad across the desk towards the young pilot, shaking his head. "I hate to contradict a lady, but I have a full file on your Flight Commander Zubinsky right here. He seems like a good officer, but too rigid, too by-the-book to take risks like that."
Zubinsky? Orlova just about managed to keep any emotion from her face, but she noticed a flicker from Hunter that hopefully passed by the general unawares. "You might have read him wrong," she replied. "I haven't known him to be like that at all."
"What do you intend to do with us? Firing squad?" Hunter asked. "And what about the rest of the squad?"
"By now they have all been placed under lockdown in the crashed shuttle. You three will be placed into detention with your countryman, until you can be transferred to the Luzhou. None of you will be mistreated, as far as I am concerned you are prisoners of war."
"Don't get the idea that we want to do this," Lieutenant Grainger said. "Under the terms of our agreement with the Lunar Republic, we have to transfer any non-nationals to their jurisdiction as soon as possible. They'll take you back to Sol, and then as soon as the situation here is resolved and a democratic government re-instituted, you will be repatriated back to your homeworld."
"I see," said Esposito. "I formally protest on the behalf of the Triplanetary government this action; I will also indicate that we will make every attempt to escape at the first opportunity."
The general shook his head, "Textbook, Ensign, but it is twenty miles from here to the nearest settlement, if you knew where it is."
"One question," said Orlova, "If I may, General?"
The old man nodded, sadly, "I suppose it's the least I can do."
"Why is the planetary government holding the rest of the crewmen hostage?"
"Extortion. The Governor's hoping that he can get enough money from your government to pay for some bread and circuses for the people."
Grainger added, "Bastards only got those crews by blind luck anyway." The general stopped him with a glare.
Draining her drink in on gulp, Orlova rose, the guns trained on her, "Shall we get on with it, then? If you are going to throw us in the cells. Or are you planning on forcing us to drink more of this swill?"
"In my day, young woman, junior enlisted types were seen and not heard. If I were your commanding officer I would put you on report." He gave Esposito a look.
"You putting me on report, Ensign?" Orlova said, looking over at the officer.
"Oh, I would always expect that you would always treat any officer with the respect he deserves."
Hunter laughed at that, attracting a glare from the two rebel officers. "I think our meeting is over. Grainger, have them escorted to the holding cells. Give them a meal; might as well have them well-fed for the journey."
With a nod, Grainger rose his gun, pointing it at the door. Hunter and Esposito left their unfinished drinks in the office as they filed out of the room, their weapons taken from their holsters as they went out into the corridor. As the door closed, they could hear the general pouring himself another drink.
They were escorted around a long corridor, decorated with murals painted on the wall, all of them showing stylized landscapes of a future, transformed Ragnarok – jungles and forests, sandy beaches dominated by Gatewood hanging in the sky. Such a world was centuries away. The last three murals were unfinished, though a small boy was busily working on one of them, painting in seabirds arcing over an inviting ocean, waves crashing over the rocks.
The lieutenant pointed his gun at a door, and the trio walked in, a series of bolts slamming home behind them to restrain them. Sitting on a plastic chair in the corner was a man wearing a spacer's jumpsuit, a shaggy brown beard on his face; he looked up at them with pity in his eyes.
"So, they bagged you three as well, then. I'm Jennings, Second Mate on the Bill Barker. At least, I was until those damn Loonies splashed us." He looked at them again, frowning. "What company are you with?"
Esposito looked around at the others, then back at Jennings, "I'm not with any company, Mr. Jennings. I am Ensign Esposito, Triplanetary Espatier Corps. This is Lance-Sergeant Hunter, and Spaceman Orlova."
The crewman rose to his feet, slapping Hunter on the shoulder, "The cavalry's here, then! Fantastic! Are you here to spring me, or have you managed to negotiate my release? We need to get everyone else out, as fast as we can, and we need to get moving too."
"I regret, Mr. Jennings, that we are prisoners as well," Esposito said, watching the man's face turn from a grin to a scowl. He sat back down on his chair.
"Useless, then."
Orlova sat down on another chair, "Hardly. What happened? We've yet to get the full story from anyone."
"We were sent into the system to conduct surveys of Ragnarok and the outer moons; the company crews with us were red-hot about setting up a base of operations out here, and when they spotted the satellite networks and what we thought were a pair of space stations, we headed right in, despite Captain Moraine's protests. Damn stupid. We should have kept at least one ship back. How did you find out about us, anyway?"
"Cornucopia sent in another ship to see wha
t had happened. When it came back shot to pieces, they called for us."
"Huh. Well, we broke into orbit, started signaling, wanted to negotiate with the planetary leaders for basing rights, purchase of foodstuffs, that sort of thing. I mean, there's the support network for a big mining operation. Our sensor crews saw that there was some work taking place out in the trojans already, so we even figured we might be able to buy someone out, purchase the data we were looking for."
"Let me guess, those 'space stations' opened fire on you," Orlova said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Jennings nodded, "Yeah. We were hit first, skipper ordered all hands to the escape pods. He tried to bring the ship down – we had a marginal capacity to land on low-gravity worlds. Don't think he made it, though."
"We saw a crash-landed freighter when we were coming in," Hunter said, "I guess he didn't quite pull it off."
"He deserved a damn sight better than that. The Felix Pedro got pummeled and the crew made for the pods, the London surrendered. At least, I guess so – we never saw any of the crew, but the guys from the Pedro said that it was captured intact. When we got down on the deck, we were all rounded up pretty quickly. Good thing to, it's damn cold down here."
"I'd noticed," Orlova said, sardonically.
"Then we found out that we'd been captured by the other side. The Government boys denied knowing anything about a battle in orbit, certainly denied that they were operating any frigates, but took us to a holding area. We soon worked out that it was a prison camp, though they treated us well enough."
"Do you know where that camp was?" Esposito asked anxiously.
"I could find it on a map easily enough. I had three weeks to get to know the landmarks. We all decided that one of us should try and make a break for it, and I drew the short straw. I don't know what we were hoping for exactly, though we'd got the idea from some of the guards that there were rebels out in the hills. Took some doing, but I broke out one night. They weren't expecting it."
Battlecruiser Alamo: The Price of Admiralty Page 15
