There was a pause, and Orlova said, “I’m sorry it ended up the way it did.”
His voice turning gruff, he said, “To hell with all of the apologetic crap. You did what you had to do, and don’t start second-guessing yourself. You’ve got a battle to win. We’ll do our part over here, you just get Alamo ready for the fight. I'll handle things over here. Is that understood, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. Good luck.”
“To both of us. Marshall out.” He passed the communicator back to the baffled Cooper, and said, “I’m sure you’ll hear all the gruesome details later. Suffice to say I let my temper get the best of me.” He took a deep breath, and said, “As far as I’m concerned, I’m just another trooper on this mission. Is that understood?”
There was a desperate, almost pleading look in his eyes, and Cooper nodded. “Yes, sir. Understood.” The elevator pinged, and Cooper tapped a button to hold the doors closed. “All manner of hell will be waiting for us on the other side. As soon as it opens, we go out shooting, but watch your shots. Make sure you are going for a bad guy. If in doubt, leave them – we’re reinforcing, so the others will cover the ones we miss. Got it, sir?”
“Got it.”
“On three. Two. One. Now.”
He released the button and the door slid open; racing out towards the nearest cover, he quickly surveyed the situation. About a dozen Alamo crewmen, Sergeant Forrest at their head, were being pinned down by six Neander in carefully chosen positions, though they were wide open to a rear assault. With a battle yell, he charged forward and fired, taking one of the Neander in the back.
“My God, Cooper!” Forrest yelled. “Take them down!”
Bullets cracked all around him as he dived for cover, the Major just behind him; he fired a series of shots, forcing the besiegers out into the open, where they were vulnerable to attack. Within a few seconds, it was all over, the last two Neander sprinting down the corridor, firing shots after them to deter any pursuit. Forrest walked over to him, shaking his head. Beside him, Barbara was running, her arms outstretched, and Cooper ran to her, taking her into his arms. Abruptly, she slapped him on the face, before kissing him.
“Damn it, Gabe, I thought you were dead.”
“Shot in the back,” Forrest said. “How the hell…”
“Cantrell managed to get me out,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”
“You can spend all the time you want telling me now,” she said, holding him close.
“Later,” Forrest said. “We’ve still got a battle to fight, and we’re down on time. If we don’t get to Station Operations, then the whole show is over.”
Nodding, Cooper replied, “We’d better do it the old-fashioned way. Is this everyone?”
“Lieutenant Bailey split off with half a dozen others, heading down towards the maintenance decks. We were caught by complete surprise, had to get out as quickly as we could.” He gestured back at the group, then saluted the Major, “What do you want to do, sir?”
“Defer to your judgment, Sergeant.”
Not missing a beat, he said, “Then we only take the Espatiers here, and the rest clean up the mess and follow at a safe distance.”
“Good. Let’s get going, then,” the Major said.
Forrest glanced at Cooper, then back at the Major, “As you say, sir.” He waved a hand, and the four Espatiers with the group made their way forward, assembling into a loose formation. Barbara joined at the rear, looking at Cooper.
“I’m going too. Non-optional.”
Cooper smiled, and nodded, saying, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s move out.”
The group moved forward, Cooper taking point by universal consensus, heading down the corridor taken by the fleeing Neander. They had to proceed carefully, but time was of the essence, so he regretfully moved past unopened doors, only quickly glancing down side corridors. If they were leaving pockets of resistance behind them, then they could mop them out at their leisure; there was only so much damage two people could do. Forrest was hanging at the back, watching for an ambush.
He looked around his squad, the familiar faces providing him comfort, smiles all around. This is what he had dreamed of, another mission with his comrades, and no matter what the reason, somehow he was happy to be here. Something moved in the shadows up ahead, and he fired on instinct, a bullet smashing into the wall; a Neander stepped out, her hands raised.
“Don’t shoot. I’m with you.”
The Major shook his head, and said, “How can we trust you?”
“I saw you long before you saw me. I could have taken out two of three of you at limited risk, but I didn’t. There are four others up ahead, and we’ll help you.” She looked at Cooper, and said, “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Ixia,” he said, nodding. “What the hell is going on?”
Shaking her head, she said, “All we know is that Price has gone mad, locked himself in Operations, and tried to shut us up below decks. There’s a battlecruiser out there, and if we can’t talk it out,” she sighed, then said, “I guess you’ll have to shoot it down. We’d rather fight with you than be enslaved again.”
The Major shook his head, saying, “I should have locked him up when I had the chance.”
Frowning, Ixia replied, “You helped cause all this in the first place. If you’d listened instead of just locking people up and stationing troops everywhere…”
Cooper, stepping between them, interrupted, “I don’t think we have time for a debate right now. What have you got, Ixia?”
“Zardok and three others are waiting at the crossroads, hiding inside the storage room for this level. We weren’t sure what side you were on.”
There was a crackle from Forrest’s communicator, and he placed it by his ear, “Go head.”
“Bailey here. We’re trying to retake Operations but they’ve got us pinned down. Can you help?”
“We’ll be up there in a few minutes. Hold them as long as you can.” He looked at Ixia, and said, “To hell with it, I’ve got a lot of invitations left to this party. Let’s get moving.”
Nodding, she raced ahead, and the group started to jog down the corridor. A door on the side opened, and four Neander warily stepped out, guns ready but not pointed at anyone, as though prepared to face an ambush at any moment. Cooper nodded as he moved past them, heading for the hatch at the end of the corridor, leading to the maintenance shaft. He gestured to the elevator as he passed.
“Three in the elevator, the rest of us up the shaft. We’ll take them by surprise.”
“Good idea, Cooper,” Forrest said pointedly; he blushed, having forgotten for a moment that he wasn’t giving the orders. “I’ll take the decoy group, you take the rest. Cartwright, Ramirez, with me.”
He stepped into the elevator, Cooper smiling as he led the rest of the team to the shaft. The door opened at a button press, evidence that whoever was controlling the station had other problems than rogue troops running around in their rear. He stepped onto the ladder and began to climb, the rest following him up. He’d taken the lead, the riskiest position, without even thinking about it, then belatedly realized that he didn’t even know where he was going.
“How many more levels?” he said to the next person on the line.
The Major laughed, and replied, “Three more, Corporal. That’ll take you to the branch corridor just outside Operations. From there it should be a short run.”
“Not that it’ll be that easy, of course,” Zardok grunted.
Cooper easily covered the distance, climbing hand over hand, having to wait a little for the others below him, a little slower, his rifle bouncing against his back on its strap. Somewhere up above, Forrest had begun his diversion, hopefully drawing the rest away and giving them a chance to assemble. They would be at their most vulnerable for the first few seconds, until they had established a proper beachhead up abo
ve.
He reached the level, and paused for a second, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, reduce his heart rate. Pulling his gun over his shoulder with one hand, he dangled from the ladder with the other, and looked down at his team.
“We’re going now. Head up, get into cover, wait for my move. Fire discipline, mark your shots. There’s stuff up here we can’t afford to break. Don’t shoot unless you know what you are shooting at and you are sure there’s a bad guy at the end of your sights.” Looking up at the hatch, he said, “Now, now, now!”
Diving through into the corridor, he executed a shoulder roll, ducking to the left behind an opened access port as the crack of gunfire echoed around him. Over to the right, he could hear cursing from the elevator shaft, Forrest’s diversion evidently not as effective as either of them had thought. The rest of his squad started to pile out, the Major diving around the side of the corridor, Zardok following, firing a pair of shots ahead to try and pin down any opposition.
“Stay back,” Cooper yelled. “Stay in the shaft!” He looked around, trying to find the enemy; he saw a hand waving from an open door in the corridor, likely Bailey and her group pinned down. An improvised barricade had been set up in front of the entrance to the Operations room, manned by five technicians, only two of them Neander. It was a perfect kill zone, fifty yards of corridor that would give them plenty of time to gun anyone down who was approaching. Even if he had any grenades, he wouldn’t have dared to use them, not in this confined space.
One man, running down the corridor, wouldn’t have any chance at all, but he would draw out the enemy enough to give the rest of them a chance to follow him in. He tensed himself, getting ready to make the run. Given time, they could simply sit and wait for the defenders to run out of ammunition, but they just didn’t have that time. There was no choice. Alamo had to regain control of the defense satellites, or the battle would be lost
Before he could move, he heard a yell from his side, and watched the Major sprinting down the corridor, not even carrying his gun. Automatically, Cooper raised his rifle to give him covering fire, raining down bullets around the enemies, taking one down as he popped out to take a shot. Zardok took another one down, and Cooper climbed out from his cover, spending ammunition like water as he advanced.
“Get moving!” Cooper yelled, and the others began to advance, Bailey’s force spilling out into the corridor behind him.
For a moment, he thought the Major was actually going to make it, but twenty meters short of his target, he collapsed to the ground, blood spilling from a wound in his neck. Even if there had been a full trauma team next to him, there was no chance at all. His sacrifice was not going to be in vain; Cooper was at the barricade in another moment, leaping behind it swinging his rifle like a club, taking a startled Neander down while Zardok fired wildly around him, ignoring his advice yet still managing to miss him.
The people around him had fallen, and he had a clear line of sight into the Operations room. There had been no attempt at preparing defenses inside, just a few technicians sitting at consoles, watched over by a dejected Price. Cooper took a step forward, covering the room with his rifle, and the remaining rebels looked at each other as the rest of his force approached.
“That’s it,” Price said from inside. “We surrender.”
Cooper looked at Price, sitting by one of the consoles, and for a second was tempted to take a shot. Bailey glared at him, then moved toward the controls, her team following her in, while Cooper moved back to look at the Major, lying dead on the deck. There was a smile on his face, his hand reaching for Operations, his eyes wide. He knelt down by him, looking at him, and then felt a cool hand on his neck.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “He didn’t even take his gun.”
“I guess he knew what he had to do,” Barbara said, looking down at him.
Looking up at her, he said, “He didn’t hesitate, not for a second. It was as if...as if he wanted the bullet.” Shaking his head, he said, “I just don’t understand. I hope I never do.” He reached down, and closed the Major’s eyes with the palm of his hand.
“We’ve done it!” Bailey’s voice yelled. “The satellites are coming back under our control. I’m through to Alamo!”
“We won,” Barbara said. Cooper looked down at the Major, lying serenely on the deck.
“Yeah,” he replied. “We won.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Now we just need Alamo to make it three for three, and we can all go home.”
“Home,” she said, murmuring.
Pulling himself to his feet, Cooper looked over at her, covered in dust and dirt from the shaft, one of her sleeves torn down the side. She frowned, looking down at herself.
“Something wrong?”
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she replied.
“I hope so. Back on that long cruise home, I had plenty of time to think, probably too much once we’d got clear, and I came to a decision. That if somehow we got through all this, I was going to stop feeling sorry for myself.”
“Good,” she replied. “I’m glad someone talked some sense into you. Saved me the trouble.”
With a smile, he said, “You went through hell for me…”
“And you put me through hell. I thought you were dead.”
“We’re both in a dangerous profession, and I’m going to fight like hell to stop that changing. We picked the life…”
Shaking her head, she said, “What are you babbling about?”
Forrest walked over, slapped him on the back, and said, “Out with it, Corporal. Or do I have to make it an order?” He winked, obviously having guessed what was about to happen.”
Looking over at him, then back at Barbara, he said, “What I guess I’m trying to say, at the worst time and place, is that...hell, will you marry me?”
Her mouth dropped, and for a moment, the bottom fell out of Cooper’s world, the corridor seeming to blur around him. Then she smiled, walked up to him, nodded, and held him. And for a time, at least, everything was just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Orlova sat on the bridge, watching and waiting, trying to remain as outwardly calm as she could, not showing the fear that was eating away at her soul. The bridge crew were working at their stations, tracking the Dauntless coming in, Weitzman trying to get answers from the station, from Brunel, from anyone, and having little luck, Nelyubov furiously updating the countermeasure systems with the information Captain Marshall had sent, trying to give them a little edge.
Still, inexorably, the Dauntless advanced towards Alamo, taking a course that would almost skim the atmosphere in its hurry to attack them, the sensors updating from second-to-second as new information came in. On either side, Alamo’s kilometer-long laser reflectors fluttered, ready to disperse the heat from her primary weapon into space, shining in the light of the dull red sun at the heart of the system.
“We’re ready for action,” Nelyubov said. “All decks cleared for battle, missile tubes loaded, laser ready, countermeasures primed.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” she said. “Weitzman, any word from the station?”
“Not a thing, ma’am,” he said. “I’m getting a bit of...wait a minute…,” he smiled, then said, “I have Lieutenant Bailey on tight-beam, ma’am, for you. Audio only.”
Permitting herself a brief sigh of relief, Orlova said, “Put her on.”
Straining to make herself heard through the crackle of space, Bailey said, “We’ve secured the station. One dead, Major Marshall.”
Orlova closed her eyes, straining to focus, and replied, “Does anyone else know about this yet? The rest of the station?”
“Negative. Mr. Price hasn’t been very co-operative. I think he’s stalling for time.”
“Do you control the satellites?”
“I ha
ve them back under control from here, yes. I’m ready to transfer them over to Alamo.”
“Don’t.”
“What?” Steele said. “We need those satellites if we’re going to have any chance.”
Turning to the duty officer, Orlova said, “Right now the enemy thinks they are just tumbling through space. How long to get them ready to fire?”
“Forty seconds.”
“Good enough.” Pulling her microphone back on, she continued, “Bailey, I want you to do nothing at all with those satellites. When they get in range of the Dauntless, power them up and give them everything you’ve got. Is that clear?”
“Alamo…”
“Never mind about Alamo,” she shouted. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Hydra out.”
Looking at Nelyubov, she said, “Even with those satellites, we’d lose a toe-to-toe battle with that bastard. We’re going to have to lure him in, bring him into position for a salvo.” With a smile, she said, “He still thinks he has the advantage. No need to disillusion him.”
“That’s risky as hell,” he replied. “We could take a terrible pounding getting them into range.”
“Steele,” Orlova said, “I want a vector that looks as if we are running, that will get us in the firing arcs of at least two of those satellites. Three would be better.”
“Not asking much, are you,” she replied, working at her console. “I can’t do it without giving us more exposure to the Dauntless.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “Time to firing range?”
“Two minutes, three seconds,” Spinelli said. “Optimum firing range for the satellites will be seventy-nine seconds after that.”
“We could go turtle, pure defensive,” Nelyubov said.
“Not without giving away our plan. They’ll be expecting us to put up a hell of a fight. Let’s not disappoint them.” She looked at the headset in her hand, then looked up to Weitzman. “I suppose I’d better get this out of the way before the battle. Connect me up to the ship.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty Page 21
