Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty

by Richard Tongue

   “Any signal from them?” Newton asked.

   “Nothing,” Fuller replied. “It’s as if they haven’t noticed us.”

   “They just don’t have anything to say. Are they changing course, Cantrell?”

   “No. Looks like they’re just maintaining station at the hendecaspace point. My guess is that they are waiting for us to jump again.” The door opened, and the Commandant entered, looking up at the viewscreen. “I don’t know what their fuel capability is.”

   “More than enough to get where they need to go,” the Commandant replied. “We won’t get past them that way. My compliments, though, on giving them the slip for this jump.”

   Newton looked at him for a moment, then turned to Fuller, “I want all communications systems on lockdown. No electronic chatter at all, of any sort. Is that clear?”

   “We’re going to need to talk to the surface…”

   “Any signal at all. We’ll just have to do everything the hard way. Unless it is a real and clear emergency, there is to be no use of communications systems while we’re in the same system as the Dauntless.”

   “Don’t you trust us?” Romaine said, glancing at the Commandant.

   “Better to be safe than dead,” she replied. “There’s no reason to delay until we’re actually in orbit. Cooper, do you want to take a team down to the surface to check on the depot? Tarrant and Singh can go with you.”

   “I’ll head down as well,” Cantrell said. “I’d like to stretch my legs.”

   “Fine. Just make sure that all the systems are intact, run a quick inventory, and I’ll send the fueling shuttle down for its first load in three hours. Might as well get the life support systems fired up. No reason not to do this in shirtsleeves.”

   Cooper nodded, and said, “I’m on my way.” He drifted away down the corridor, Cantrell behind him, swinging down a convenient shaft to the docking level, while the ship’s loudspeakers summoned the others to report immediately for landing party duty.

   “Why do you want to come along?” he asked, pushing himself off a handhold.

   “Nothing else to do,” she replied, “and my mission is to gather intelligence. I want to take a look at their concealment procedures. Never know when that’s going to come in useful.”

   Tarrant and Singh were already waiting at the shuttle when they arrived, and the former pushed off into the cockpit, settling down while his passengers hastily strapped themselves down.

   “Ready for launch,” he yelled, and the shuttle detached from the ship, dropping down towards the planet as the main engine slowed them down. Cooper had managed to take a window seat, and watched the ship slowly spiral down towards the planet; it was a lot rougher than it had appeared from orbit, tall mountain ranges of ice reaching up to the sky, boulder fields and deep fissures hundreds of meters deep. There were a few darker patches of rock scattered around, almost at random.

   Diving towards a huge crater, Cooper only saw their destination when they were almost on top of it, a small patch of what appeared from orbit to be one of several tumbling rocks, but was subtly different from the others. Looking slightly to the north, something else seemed wrong, as well, another of the rocks that looked more regular, almost rectangular.

   “Which one of those are we going to?”

   “The southern one. The other’s just an old crashed ship, I think it’s a marker,” Tarrant said. “This depot’s been here for decades, old emergency rescue spot that the Guild took over. There isn’t usually much traffic here.”

   Steam rose from the surface as the thrusters gently lowered the shuttle to the ground, and the three of them started to pull on their spacesuits, Cooper briefly struggling with the unfamiliar design, a lot more rugged – and heavier – than he was used to. All the systems lights lit green as he stepped into the airlock, Singh standing next to him, and ran through the exit cycle.

   His boots crunched into the ice, small pools freezing over as he watched in the intense cold, only briefly warmed by the shuttle. Now that he was on the ground, the depot was obvious – a pair of standard prefabricated huts with a half-buried tank of fuel between them, covered by a half-kilometer reflector, crumpled and torn to make it look like the surrounding rocks.

   Singh pointed to the hut on the left, and the two of them slowly ambled over to it, struggling in the lower gravity not to send themselves flying away, Cantrell and Tarrant following. At one point, he got a chance to take a look at the crash site to the north, and threw up an image intensification filter to get a better look at it. Something about it seemed strange, like nothing he had ever seen before, the design unfamiliar. Thus far, all of the Cabal designs had resembled those he knew in at least some details, the common technical ancestry making itself known, but this was different.

   Singh stepped up to a hidden hatch, tapped a ten-digit code sequence which he carefully hid from Cooper, and the door opened, the two of them walking in. Stepping through the airlock, the room inside looked as if the occupants had just stepped out for a moment, a pair of unmade beds in one corner of the room, a deck of cards on the table, equipment scattered all over the place, but in a logical sort of chaos brought about by constant use.

   Walking over to a control panel in the corner, Singh started to work, and the lights on Cooper’s suit started to flash green; he cracked open the seal of his helmet, took an experimental sniff, and then wished he hadn’t. There was a rancid smell, of decay and death, but Singh was busy taking off his suit.

   “I know, I’ll flush out the system as soon as I find it. The last occupants must have left some food to go bad before the temperature dropped. Better get rid of it before it contaminates everything.”

   “Aside from that?”

   “All the base systems are functioning, but I’ll have to go out in a minute to check the pumps with Tarrant before the fueling shuttle goes down. We need an inventory of the storage compartment, as well, I know we’ve got a bit of a list to fill if we can.”

   The door opened again, and Tarrant walked in, followed by Cantrell. He shook his head, and said, “Nothing like a breath of fresh air, I guess. No point getting changed; Harpreet, you stay in here and monitor the systems while I check the fuel manifolds.”

   “Great, I get the smell.”

   “Privilege of rank. And speaking of rank, where are the food stores? I might as well dump the lot while I’m outside. I don’t think we need to take a chance on it.”

   “While you are doing that, I want to go and check out that wreck to the north of here. It’s only a mile away; by the time I get there and back, you should have all the checks completed and I can help with the inventory,” Cooper said.

   “What for? It’s just a piece of old junk.”

   “It doesn’t look as if anyone else has ever taken a look at it.”

   “Why would they? Look, we’ve got a lot to do here,” Tarrant said.

   “Besides,” Singh added, “You shouldn’t go off my yourself, certainly not that distance. Not safe. There are fissures and cracks out here; it isn’t just a question of going for a walk. You have to watch your step very closely.”

   Nodding, Tarrant said, “The last time we were here we almost lost someone in one of the crevasses. Their life support was damn near gone by the time we were able to get them out again.”

   “I promise to be very careful.”

   “I’ll go with him,” Cantrell said.

   “Great, that’s two of you wandering off into the middle of nowhere,” Tarrant said, shaking his head. “Fine, go off and have your walk, but try not to get into any sort of a scrape while you are wasting your time.”

   “What do you expect to find?” Singh asked.

   “I don’t know,” Cooper replied, “and if I don’t go and take a look, I never will. Come on,” he said, turning to Cantrell, “let’s go.”

   Placing their helmets back on, the two of them stepped through the airlo
ck and back out onto the surface, walking around the hidden base and towards the rocks to the north; their target seemed to be glinting in the dull sun, coated by a thin layer of ice. Cantrell pulled a cord from the side of her suit, plugging it into Cooper’s; now they could talk with no danger of being overheard.

   “What are we doing out here?” she asked.

   “As I said, I want to see what is out there. I’m guessing that everyone who has come here must have been in such a hurry to get going that they just left it, but I think that it is older than it looks.”

   “Someone must have looked at it before, though.”

   “That doesn’t mean that anyone has shared what they found. This is a secret installation, remember, and no-one using it would want to draw any attention to the place. The last thing they would do is highlight something like an ancient spaceship.”

   “You think it might be that old?”

   “I hung around with Carpenter for long enough to know when something looks older than it should be. I don’t think that can be of human design, certainly. Look at it.”

   “I’m not an expert in starship design.”

   With a chuckle, he said, “You should have joined the Espatiers. There was a month-long course on the history of spaceships, focusing on just that. We even toured a couple of ships under construction.”

   “What was that for?”

   “All ships, no matter who builds them, have a logical pattern to them, right? They’ve all got to have engines, control rooms, life support systems. There’s an optimum pattern, and after a while, you can work out where key facilities should be, even in a ship you’ve never been on before. There was this Corporal, and he boasted that he could find his way around an unfamiliar ship in the dark. He did, too.”

   As they drew closer to the ship, she said, “I guess you’re going to turn down my offer.”

   “Intelligence isn’t really what I’m good at.”

   “Don’t underrate yourself.”

   He shook his head, saying, “Right now, I’m doing what I want to do. I know that it’s going to end when I get back, but I figure I’ll get a contract security job with someone.”

   “And sit around guarding an office all day, or instructing desk jockeys in self-defense? That’s no more what you want to do than anything else. At least my way you still get to wear a uniform.”

   “Captain Marshall used the same logic when he tried to get me to transfer to the Fleet. I didn’t buy that, either.” He sighed, then said, “Maybe I can at least stay in the Reserves, if nothing else, or perhaps in the planetary militia.”

   “It’s a waste, Cooper. And a stupid rule.”

   “There we agree. Look at that.” He pointed at a strange, curved structure that seemed to be reaching down into the ice. The ship seemed to have been designed with some sort of logic, but most of it escaped him. All of it was boxy, compact, much smaller than any starship he was familiar with. Spending a long cruise cooped up in something with that little space would be a nightmare.

   There was a long gash near the front, a huge, jagged rock leaping up from the ice like a broken tooth the probable culprit, and headed for it, Cooper taking point and peering in. Suddenly, irrationally, he wished that there was a pistol at his belt; there was no sign that anything was still alive here that could represent any sort of a threat, but that didn’t stop him being nervous as hell.

   He shone his torch up, inside what was obviously an airlock; and looked for any controls, but all he saw were glass panels, mostly shattered, probably once touchscreens. Stepping inside, being careful not to touch or disturb anything, he looked at the inner hatch, already open, but not enough to get through.

   “Looks like this is as far as we go,” Cantrell said.

   “No, wait a moment,” he said, pushing his hands in between the door. It moved easily, sliding open to their mutual amazement; that the mechanism could have survived for that long under such conditions indicated astonishing workmanship and design. Inside was a corridor, and on one wall a huge mural, blues and greens and whites, showed a spectacular view of the Earth from orbit.

   “There was a real artist here,” he said, turning to his companion. “I’d have liked to meet him.”

   “It’s wrong, though,” she said.

   “What do you mean?”

   “I’ve been to Earth. Earth orbit, anyway. The outlines of the continents are wrong, and the ice cap is much too big.”

   “Artistic license, maybe. Or he was drawing from memory, didn’t have any images to use as a basis. It’s still wonderful.”

   Stepping forward, Cantrell said, “I want to get some proper pictures of this, just in case. We’ll never get this ship out of here. Wait a moment, will you.”

   “Sure,” he said, turning to the far wall. His mouth opened, and he said, “Writing! All over the walls!” He moved to look at it more closely, a strange pattern of lines and dots scattered almost at random, every possible space filled with the unreadable text. Holding up his datapad, he started to take images, covering his wall while Cantrell took the other.

   “This has to have been here a long time,” he said.

   “I’ll say it does,” she replied. “The datapad managed to match the image. He was drawing from something, right enough – that’s Earth around the end of the last ice age, maybe ten thousand years ago and more.”

   “Ten thousand years,” he said. “We’ve got to report this when we get back. Get a proper research team out here.”

   “I hate to remind you, but we’re in the middle of Cabal territory with an enemy battlecruiser watching our backs.” She looked around, and sighed, “This is going to have to be an archaeological snatch and grab, whether we like it or not.”

   “Don’t think so short term,” Cooper replied. “This ship has been here for a long time, and it’ll wait a few decades more to give up the rest of its secrets. I bet Quinn would love to take a look at the drive unit.”

   “By now it’ll just be a fused mass.”

   “Even he’d never get it to work, but he might be able to find out how it worked.”

   “Have you got the writing down?” Cantrell said.

   “Yes. We’d better head back. I don’t want to do any damage here unintentionally, ruin it for the experts. I just hope that I get to come with them some day.”

   Looking around, she replied, “I have a feeling you’ll find a way.”

   As Cooper turned to go, his helmet light shone into a previously untouched corner, far up at the top of the corridor, and a glint of white reflected back. He turned again, then took Cantrell by the shoulder, stopping her from leaving.

   “I told you I wanted to meet the artist,” he said. “I think we’re going to get that chance.”

   A skeleton lay at the far end of the hall, lying in comfortable repose on the corridor. Whoever it was had time to prepare himself, to draw these pictures and write down his story for anyone who might happen by, then to end quietly, in his own time. There was no desperation in his posture, just simple resignation and acceptance. Then Cooper frowned, and turned back to Cantrell.

   “We’d better get some more pictures. And are you sure of that dating?”

   “I think so. Why?”

   “I had a chance to get a good long look at a Neander skeleton, and that isn’t one of them. It’s human, Homo Sapiens Sapiens. One of us.”

   “Ten thousand years…”

  Chapter Fourteen

   Orlova walked into Hydra Station Operations, passing the two Espatiers standing on guard at the door, who saluted her as she entered. Inside, the room was a hive of activity, technicians moving from station to station, the majority of them now wearing Triplanetary uniforms, though a few were hold-overs from the period before martial law.

   Over in a corner, Major Marshall and Lieutenant Bailey were standing in front of a schematic of the station, having a heated debate about the
positioning of their few remaining Espatiers; she decided to wait for them to finish, pulling out her datapad. Carpenter had just sent her a new update on her sensor sweep of the planet. Five days, and she still hadn’t found anything interesting, even with one of the security technicians personally monitoring the data feed. She found it hard to believe that there was only one old ruin on the entire planet; by the end of the day, the sweep would have been completed, another window of investigation closed.

   There were noises of commotion at the door, and she saw Price, the nominal station commander, being prevented from entering the room by the embarrassed Espatiers. He looked to be building up a good head of steam as she stepped forward.

   “Let him in, Private,” she said.

   “I’d like to, ma’am, but I’ve got orders…”

   “I’ll accept the responsibility. Just let him in.”

   Pausing for a second, he nodded, and the two of them took a step back, allowing him to enter. Price shook his head at the occupants of the room, grimacing as he saw one of the Alamo technicians mangling a diagnostic check at the communications system.

   “This is wrong, Maggie,” he said, quietly. “And stupid, to boot. I’d understand posting some extra guards around, but bringing your own team in to run the damn station? I’d be happier if they knew what they were doing.”

   Frowning, she replied, “They’re good people.”

   “I’m sure they are when they are working on their own ship with their own equipment, but this is my station. I’m just leasing it to you, remember.” Gesturing back, he continued, “And now those two goons won’t even let me into my own control room.”

   “The agreement didn’t require us to leave you in command of the station,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, this is only temporary. Until we’ve caught the Cabal traitors.”

   “Of course it is. Your glorious Major isn’t planning to leave a garrison behind, not at all.”