Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty

by Richard Tongue

   “I already know.”

   He frowned, and replied, “What do you mean?”

   “I’m trained as a deep cover agent. I’ve been doing it for...let’s just say that you were right, and I was not the rookie I was pretending to be. Now everyone on the ship knows that I work for Triplanetary Intelligence. My career is over, just like yours.”

   “I’m sorry. I really had no idea.”

   “What’s done is done,” she said. “It had to be. I needed to use my skills openly if we were going to make it home, and at the end of the day, my survival instincts are good enough to override my need for secrecy. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m in for a major career change as well.”

   “What are you going to do?”

   She shrugged, and said, “I’m probably better off than you, at that. I could walk into a role in analysis with a promotion and a pay rise, but I like getting my hands dirty. I’ve had a word with the Captain, and he’s happy to leave me behind at Hydra Station – Tyler can take my report back for me.”

   “Don’t you need to report in?”

   “I’ve been keeping some rather extensive logs during this trip, and no doubt someone will come out to debrief me in any case – but if I appoint myself as Intelligence liaison to Hydra Station, I don’t think anyone’s going to object too strongly.”

   “You don’t want to go home?”

   She chuckled, and said, “Deep-cover agents tend to burn all their bridges right at the start. I knew that going in. Cheap price to pay for what I ended up doing. If I’m stuck in the role of a Triplanetary officer, I might as well give myself a good headstart. For me, going home is a desk job. Never mind about me. What about you?”

   “Barbara and I were talking about going into business together. We’ve got some money saved up, and my uncle will probably help us get a loan. Shuttle service, courier, bodyguard work. That sort of thing.” He shook his head, and said, “I get the feeling I’m dragging her down with me, though. She was a lifer, just like me.”

   “You’ve known her for a long time.”

   He smiled, and said, “My family owns a couple of freighters, working the Mars-Callisto run. I spent a lot of time on them when I was a kid, learning that I didn’t have any potential as a space jockey. That’s why I joined the Espatiers to get into space. Barbara was hired as a pilot before she got into the service, spent a couple of years on one of my uncle’s ships.”

   Cantrell started to chuckle, then said, “Calculating your respective ages, I’m going to guess that she was a teenage crush.” His face turned red, and she said, “That’s really sweet.”

   “She’s only nine years older than me,” he replied.

   “Cooper,” she said, looking at his hand, “You are the victim of a fundamentally stupid regulation. That doesn’t change the fact that you do what you do extremely well.” She shook her head, and continued, “Nor does that change the person you are.” Pausing, she said, “Things happen in life that affect us in ways we don’t expect. Sometimes you’ve just got to roll with the punches, and sometimes you’ve got to fight back.”

   “Which means?”

   “That’s up to you.”

   A noise from the back of the room announced the arrival of half a dozen of the crew, lounging over towards one of the tables; most of them were nursing bottles, and given their general demeanor, it seemed reasonable to suppose that they were almost empty. Romaine seemed to be their focal point, Fuller also along for the ride, taking a long sip from his bottle as he drifted past Cooper.

   “Our glorious saviors!” Romaine said. “The ones who are going to save us from the Cabal. The only problem is that they don’t have a single damn idea how.”

   Cantrell wrinkled her nose, and said, “Maybe we could deploy your breath as a tactical assault weapon.”

   “Something wrong with me? Am I not good enough to associate myself with you two lovebirds? Freighter crews too low class for you?”

   “I don’t have any problem with freighter crews. I just have a problem with you.”

   Romaine belched a laugh, and a couple of his mates pulled him away, over to the table. Cooper gestured quietly at the door, urging the sanity of a retreat to another part of the ship; something at the back of his mind told him that this was not going to end well.

   “I know what we should do,” Fuller said. “Let’s get that rat of a Commandant, put a gun to his head, and tell the Dauntless that we’d blow his brains out if they don’t run away! He’s probably on some sort of double-top-secret mission anyway, the sneaky bastard.”

   “Yeah!” Romaine said, a couple of others joining him. “We should go and get him right now, drag him out of his cabin. He’ll know all sorts of stuff.”

   Cooper glanced at Cantrell, both of them knowing a potential riot brewing, and she quietly made for the door while he drifted over to the group, careful to make no noise or to make his presence known. Romaine took a swig of his drink, then grinned.

   “We shouldn’t stop there, either. This ship isn’t Newton’s because some foreigner says so. It should belong to all of us, equally! We’re all in this together, aren’t we?”

   “And who would be Captain,” Cooper said, face fixed. “I can guess who you have in mind for the job.”

   “It should go to whoever can do it the best.”

   Nodding, he said, “Who decides? And how? You?”

   “I’m better qualified to judge than anyone here, aren’t I? Better than your precious Captain Marshall, anyway. Maybe we should offer him up to the Dauntless in exchange for safe passage! I bet they’d accept that offer!”

   His gurgling laughter was cut short by a sharp right hook to the face, Cooper following it up with a kick to the solar plexus that sent him tumbling across the room, droplets of cheap spirits dropping from his mouth. He slammed into the wall, red-faced, and pointed at the Espatier.

   “We going to put up with that? Get him!”

   Cooper had the benefit of a year’s training in hand-to-hand zero-gravity combat, and far more practical experience than he had ever wanted, but they were no slouches either, and outnumbered him six to one. He concentrated on trying to batter them away, kicking off with his legs to push himself around the room, but one of them managed to grab his arm, sending him tumbling into another.

   Trying to twist around, he spun the two of them in a drunken dance before his mates intervened, pinning him down to the wall. A fist – probably Romaine’s – smashed forward into his head, and everything went blurry as he felt himself drifting, tumbling through the room. The mob surged away, heading to the corridor, and he struggled to pull himself together, still dazed.

   Reaching into his pocket, he found one of the stimulants he’d picked up, and had just enough sense left in his head to take it, swallowing it down in one. He was going to regret it later, but for the moment it felt as if he had inhaled a dozen breaths of pure oxygen, and he dodged over to the wall, slamming his hand on the general alarm button.

   With sirens echoing around the walls, waking everyone on board, he pushed down the corridor after the mob, not quite knowing what he was going to do if he caught them up. He knew where they were going, and guessing that they wouldn’t be thinking clearly, ducked up into the overhead crawlspaces, tumbling through the narrow shafts in a bid to beat them to the Commandant’s quarters, not quite sure how much of a headstart he was attempting to make up.

   After a few moments, he heard voices mumbling beneath him, and he looked through the mesh to see the six of them pushing into each other as they lurched around a corner; if they got much more drunk, this wouldn’t have been a problem. The quarters were just ahead, and he pushed down through the access hatch to stand in front of them, blocking their way.

   “You again,” Romaine said.

   “It takes more than a drunken moron to stop me,” he replied. “You are not getting in here.”

   “Your
friend has run off,” Fuller replied. “No guts.”

   Shaking his head, Cooper said, “It only takes me to stop you getting through. Or do you really think that you are going to get away with this?”

   The door slid open, the Commandant at the threshold, saying, “Ah. I was wondering how long it would take for the lynch mob to arrive.”

   “We want what is best for us,” Fuller said. “Your war doesn’t matter to us. If we can trade all of you to the Dauntless to get out of it, then we damn well should.”

   “Then carry on with a new captain and give fair shares to the crew!” Romaine yelled.

   “Ah, this is a not-so-subtle grab for power, then,” the Commandant said with a sneer.

   Romaine lunged at him, but Cooper pushed him back, saying, “If you want to get him, you’ll have to get through me.”

   “Stay out of this,” Fuller said. “We want him, not you. Just get out of here.”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “Not a chance in hell. I’m not lowering myself to your level.”

   Turning to the others, Romaine said, “Come on, we can rush him.”

   “We?” the Commandant said. “Too scared to take him on by yourself?”

   A couple of the less-inebriated members of the mob drifted away from the back, heading off down the corridor, conscious of where this was likely to go and not wanting any part in it. Romaine looked back at the others, and they slowly moved towards him, drifting in closer. Cooper moved into the doorway, bracing himself, reaching one arm up to make him ready to hurl himself at the mob.

   A crack flew through the air, slamming into the wall, and Cantrell moved down the corridor, a pistol in her hands, now pointed at Romaine’s forehead. He froze, his eyes glancing to his associates; the others were beginning to move away, only Fuller standing in position.

   “This is as far as you go,” she said. “Sorry about the delay, Cooper.”

   “I think you were just about in time,” he replied, looming towards Fuller and Romaine. “Are you still interested in trying something?”

   “You’re just a coward,” Romaine spat.

   “I recall,” the Commandant said, “that you were the one who refused to attempt to take me without reinforcement from your erstwhile companions.”

   Shaking his head, Romaine looked at Cantrell in the eyes, and said, “You aren’t going to shoot me. Not an unarmed man.”

   “Would you like to bet your life on it?” Cantrell replied. Cooper, taking a deep breath, leapt forward and wrapped his arms around Romaine, pinning him in position, while she moved to cover Fuller. He struggled in Cooper’s grip, wriggling in a futile attempt to escape, and Cooper managed to maneuver them towards an empty room, tossing him through the open door and closing it behind him.

   “Now you,” Cantrell said to Fuller, and the technician ruefully drifted into the quarters, Cooper activating the override to seal the door as it closed. Belatedly, a trio of crewmen led by Newton drifted down the corridor, bleary-eyed.

   “What the hell is going on here?”

   “Just an attempted riot. The ringleaders are in there,” Cooper said, gesturing at the door. “Frankly, they might as well stay in there until they sober up, at least.”

   “Let me guess. Romaine,” she said.

   “And Fuller.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “The guy’s a mean drunk, but I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to follow a fool like Romaine. Just them?”

   “Four others are going to be nursing heaving hangovers tomorrow,” Cantrell said. “One of the surveillance cameras probably picked them up if you want to know who they are.”

   “No point,” Newton replied. “They aren’t the ones I’m worried about.” Looking at the door, she said, “I might just leave them in there until we hit Hydra Station, though I’m not sure what the rest of the crew will say about that.”

   Cooper frowned, then said, “You’re the captain, surely.”

   “It isn’t as simple here as it is on a military ship. We don’t keep military discipline, but nor do I intend to keep people around who wander around the corridors drunk threatening to shoot people. That’s not smart.”

   “I agree,” the Commandant said. “Completely.”

   “What you think matters less to me than what those drunks think,” Newton said. “I think everything should be quiet enough now for the night. I’m going back to my quarters.” Looking at the pistol still nestled in Cantrell’s hands, she said, “Put that away before you turn in.”

   Newton and her group drifted back off down the corridor, and Cantrell moved over to look at Cooper’s head, angry bruises rising where Romaine had hit him earlier.

   “Quit poking at it, I’m fine.”

   “You should probably head down to the medical bay.”

   “I’ve got a first aid kit in my quarters,” Cooper replied. “That’s probably about the same sort of quality of medical care that I’d get.”

   “Nevertheless, I want to take a look at it. Come on.”

   “Wait a moment,” the Commandant said as they turned to go. “Mr. Cooper, thank you. I don’t think this situation would have gone well if you hadn’t intervened.”

   Turning to face him, Cooper replied, “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me. If I’d let them have you, we’d be no better than you are, and this whole journey would have been pointless.” Turning to Cantrell, he said, “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like the air on this deck very much.”

  Chapter Eighteen

   Marshall hadn’t seen much point in loitering on the bridge for the emergence into the new system. If they had accidentally managed to stumble upon the Dauntless, then his presence wasn’t going to help. Otherwise, the bridge crew could manage without him; his attention was far more focused on the next emergence, seven days from now, when they would get back to Hydra Station, bringing hell riding with them.

   Part of him still wanted to decoy the battlecruiser away, attempt to stop the encounter, but the Commandant’s words were still replaying in his mind. This could be the final piece of a chain of events that could stop the war he had thought inevitable. The whole, long operation was finally coming to a climax, and all they had to do was win one more battle, take down one more Cabal ship, albeit their largest opponent yet, and then return home in triumph.

   He smiled as he realized that he might be being rather optimistic. His sailing orders had been deliberately vague, the President telling him nothing more than to find out everything he possibly could about the Cabal, and their departure had been shrouded in sufficient secrecy to stop anyone from asking too many questions. Not that it had made much difference to the Cabal, but it might give him some cover when they got back.

   Twenty-nine of his people – Alamo and the late Hercules combined – would not be coming home. Not counting anyone else who was lost in the battle to come, or the unknown perils of the Shrouded Stars. The ‘secret spacelane’ of the resistance had turned out to be nothing more than a smuggler’s route, but soon they would be cruising home through truly unexplored space.

   That ought to be a thrill for him, the sort of mission that he would normally have sought, but there was a weariness deep inside, a desire to simply get home and bring this mission to an end. They’d been scheduled for six months, and they were already pushing nine. Likely it would be almost a year before they finally got back to Mariner Station. Pausing for a moment, he made a brief notation to commission Alamo’s two remaining midshipmen when he got back; they should be sitting their promotion boards about now, but there was little fear of them failing, and he couldn’t see why they should lose seniority. Even just a provisional appointment would be sufficient.

   Now he was actually seeking out paperwork, he thought, smiling. Perhaps that was a sign of old age, or perhaps the early thrills of command were settling down at last. He called up the schematics of the Dauntless, updating a piece at a time
as Cantrell managed to garner more and more information. That ship could be doing a lot more to keep itself hidden than it was, but perhaps that wasn’t the point. They still hadn’t found any effective weak spots, just a few possible windows for hacking that might bear fruit. Alamo was going to have to try and defeat it the old-fashioned way, missile bombardment and laser blast.

   He longed to be able to warn them; he’d been composing the message alerting his father to the danger a hundred times in his head. Brunel would have a grand total of four minutes to give some head-start to Alamo, long enough for them to make the normal defensive preparations, but they were still going to be caught on the hop. Quinn would have completed the repairs – it wasn’t even beyond the realm of possibility that Alamo wouldn’t be there when they arrived, already starting its passage home. If that happened, then Brunel’s life expectancy would be measured in minutes, if not seconds, and Hydra Station would likely suffer a similar fate.

   His door chimed, and opened to admit Newton, who drifted in and settled down on a loose chair-harness by the wall, swinging back and forth. Marshall tossed his datapad gently away, bouncing on his bed.

   “I thought you’d like to know that we are a good hundred million miles from Dauntless. Even better than last time, though it’s sent us rather into the outer darkness.”

   “When I didn’t hear the sound of panicked sirens, I rather thought that everything had gone according to plan. Who’s got the bridge?”

   “Tarrant. Did you hear about the trouble we had last night?”

   Nodding, he replied, “Cantrell briefed me this morning, and I dropped in on Cooper. Still out cold, but he looked fine when she put him to bed, apparently. Overdosed on stimulants to get him into the fight.” Shaking his head, he said, “He’s gone above and beyond a dozen times, just on this mission.”

   “I understand he’s going to be thrown out of the service. Frankly, I was thinking of offering him a job. There are times when I could use some muscle, and Cooper handles himself as well as anyone I’ve ever seen.”