Battlecruiser Alamo: Forbidden Seas

by Richard Tongue

   Shaking her head, she glanced up at the situation monitor, showing the trajectory track of the shuttle returning from the surface. Salazar would be moving as rapidly as he could, but she still resented the wasted seconds, time she desperately need to get her ship back into fighting trim for the next battle. There was a time and place for diplomacy, and this certainly wasn't it.

   “Shuttle Two, approaching elevator airlock, arriving in one minute.”

   Powell shook his head, and said, “Not every day we make first contact with a new interstellar power, Captain. This could be the answer to all of our prayers.”

   “I hope so, Professor,” she replied. “I damn well hope so.”

   Sirens sounded as the elevator airlock engaged, catching the shuttle as it slid underneath Alamo, dragging it up to the deck. At a signal from Kowalski, the work paused for a moment, all hands standing to attention as the Triplanetary anthem blared over the speakers, the only touch of pomp and circumstance that Alamo was currently able to provide.

   The hatch slid open, and Lostok walked out, striding forward with the air of one used to the feel of a deck, Nelyubov at his side. Behind him, tentatively emerging from the shuttle, she saw Perry, looking around with amazement on his face, wearing the Martian Defense Force uniform she'd had prepared for him. Two more Neander, more cautious than the others, followed, the procession coming to a halt opposite Orlova.

   “My thanks, Captain,” Lostok said. “It's a great honor, and a pleasure, to be among those who liberated us from our oppressors.” He held out a hand, and Orlova shook it as the final notes of the anthem played.

   “Welcome to the Battlecruiser Alamo, sir.” Gesturing at her officers, she said, “Senior Lieutenant Powell, my Science Officer, Lieutenants Harper and Cantrell, Intelligence and Tactical, and Sub-Lieutenant Bradley, my Flight Officer.”

   “Kelot, Combat Section Leader, and Molpa, Technical Section Leader,” he replied, indicating the two Neander. Glancing around, the Neander quietly said, “You can let these people get on with their work now, Captain. I'm certain that they have better things to do than pay homage to an old man. I hope you didn't suffer too much damage in the battle.”

   “We've had worse, sir,” she replied.

   “Amazing,” Perry said, shaking his head. “I saw this ship being built, out at Callisto, before I headed out on my last mission. To finally be walking on board, back on a Triplanetary ship, is wonderful.” Looking at Orlova, he added, “I'm sorry, ma'am. Technical Sergeant Alexander Perry, reporting for duty.”

   “Welcome back to the Fleet, Sergeant. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

   “Thirty-two years,” he said. “Thirty-two years since I set foot on the deck of a Triplanetary vessel.” His eyes wandering around the deck, he said, “Captain, there wasn't time for a long debate on the surface, with all the fighting, but...” He took a deep breath, and said, “And I hadn't dared to ask. The War?”

   With a smile, Orlova said, “The Interplanetary War ended when the United Nations recognized the independence of the Triplanetary Confederation at the Treaty of Ceres, sixteen years ago.”

   Perry collapsed to the deck, holding his head in his hands, the tears flowing freely as he said, “It's over. It's all over.”

   Lostok rested a hand on Perry's shoulder, and said, “You should be proud of this man, Captain. He never lost his spirit, never lost his fight, and spent his entire time on Cyndar plotting and preparing for the day when we would overthrow the Xandari. Which, at last, we have accomplished.” Looking down at the old man, he said, “If it would be appropriate, I would like to recommend him personally for the highest decoration.”

   “You don't need to,” she replied. “I've already seen to it. As well as something else.” Kneeling down to look at Perry, he said, “You had a wife, and a son, when you left. I took the liberty of going through the personnel files, and was planning to prepare you a precis of your family's history while you were away, but it turned out to be unnecessary.” Turning to the rear, she yelled, “Spaceman Perry, front and center!”

   A young woman, wearing a maintenance jumpsuit, stepped forward out of the crowd, walking towards Perry. She looked down at him, confusion on her face, and Orlova helped him to rise from the deck, until they were standing, facing each other.

   “Grandfather?” she asked, shaking her head. “Is it really you?”

   His eyes widened, and he replied, “You're Joe's daughter? He had a daughter?” Throwing his arms around her, the two hugged, and Orlova caught a patch of moisture at her own eye. Over in the far corner, Kowalski had managed to find some excuse to duck behind a maintenance station, and Nelyubov was shaking his head in disbelief.

   “I knew we had a Spaceman Perry on board,” he said, stepping towards Orlova, “but I didn't think it could be possible that they were related.”

   “The database threw it right up,” she replied. “Sergeant, Spaceman, I think you can both be excused for a little while. I know that you'll have a lot to talk about.” Glancing at Nelyubov, she added, “We'll be sending a party over to Daedalus in a couple of hours...”

   “I'd like to go along, Captain,” Perry said, looking over his granddaughter's shoulder.

   “Of course.” Gesturing towards the elevator, she continued, “Lostok, if you and the rest of your party will come with me to the briefing room, we can work out what to do next.”

   Shaking his head, Kelot replied, “I would have thought that was quite obvious. We hunt down the remainder of the Xandari and wipe them out. They need to pay for what they have done.”

   Turning to his subordinate, Lostok said, “We both know that it isn't as simple as that. There are five thousand people down there...”

   “And this morning, there were seven thousand,” Kelot pressed.

   “Later!” Lostok snapped. “Captain, please lead the way.”

   Gesturing for Nelyubov, Powell and Salazar to accompany her, Orlova stepped into the elevator, the Neander following. Kelot's face was still a mask of fury, but the others displayed a combination of joy and wonder. Lostok smiled, shaking his head.

   “I have to confess I felt like Sergeant Perry,” he said, as the doors closed. “Somehow I never thought I would walk the decks of a starship again. It's a good feeling to feel metal underfoot.”

   “You served on a starship?” Powell asked.

   “Why?” Kelot said. “Do you think we are nothing but primitive savages? We have starships of our own, a grand fleet of warships that will purge the Xandari from the heavens one day.”

   “I'm sure nothing was meant by the Lieutenant's statement,” Lostok said. “I was the commander of the Ascendant, five years ago. We were ambushed by a Xandari cruiser, taken prisoner, and transferred to this colony.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Everyone down there can tell a similar story.”

   The doors slid open, and they walked down the corridor to the briefing room, Orlova asking, “Then it was a slave settlement? That doesn't seem very practical.”

   “One weakness the Xandari have is that they are few, and we are many,” Lostok said. “Between us, we harnessed the resources of the planet under their direction for shipment back to Xandor. Crystals, primarily, for use in their laser weaponry, but also a selection of rare minerals and earths, and even exotic foodstuffs. While the native lifeform on this planet is not edible by humans, there is a certain extract that I understand has favor on their world as a flavoring, though I personally find it utterly repugnant.”

   “This way,” Orlova said, stepping through a door. “Are there other such worlds, then?”

   “Our colony was called Extraction Plant Three, for whatever that is worth,” Molpa volunteered. “Though all of the prisoners on the planet were taken from their ships, their outposts, directly to us. I suppose it could be a deception.”

   Taking her seat at the head of the table, Orlova and her officers arranged themselves to face the Nean
der, as a holoprojection of local space dropped down over the table, showing their path from Triplanetary space to their current location.

   “What exactly is your mission, Captain?” Lostok asked. “Did you have some knowledge of our location?”

   “I'm afraid not,” she replied. “About a year ago, one of our outer bases was attacked by the Xandari, and since then, we've suffered other attacks. So far, we've been able to beat them off, but our Combined Chiefs of Staff decided that the best defense was a good offense. There's a task force assembling right now at Thule, ready to launch a strike.”

   “What are they waiting for?” Kelot asked.

   “Intelligence,” Nelyubov replied. “We had a rough idea where they were coming from, but no firm knowledge. Our mission is a reconnaissance in force, to find the location of their homeworld, the extent of their territory, and work out what weak spots we might exploit.”

   “There we can help you, I think,” Lostok said, shaking his head. “We were essentially on the same mission, Captain, although you have had more luck than I did. We three were the senior officers of the Ascendant, a far-rover of the Interstellar Collective. For the last twenty years, we've been under attack by the Xandari, in a constant state of war. And, to be blunt, we're losing.”

   “Our leaders decided to hole up and hide from the galaxy,” Kelot said, scowling. “We built defense stations, sentry posts, guard fleets. Despite that, in the first fifteen years of the war, the systems under our control shrank from five to three.”

   “The harsh reality is that they have a technological edge. While we are more advanced in the bio-sciences, their ships are more maneuverable, with a greater radius of operations and superior armament. Six years ago, we managed to capture one of their ships intact, and realized that they were obtaining their technology from an outside source.”

   Nodding, Orlova said, “They've captured some of our vessels, our deep-range explorers.”

   “That convinced us that there might be another option. If they were not developing their technology themselves, we thought it conceivable that there might be a potential ally, out amid the stars. Ascendant's mission was to venture forth to uncharted space, beyond the combat area, and find them. That's why we learned English. We'd intercepted some radio signals from beyond, and had enough of the language to at least develop a basic understanding. Knowing alien languages was one of the prime requirements for expedition members.”

   “Unfortunately, we failed to break the blockade,” Molpa said. “We were captured just two jumps into our mission, and exiled to Cyndar. Since then, we know of three other vessels that have made the attempt, all of whom suffered similar fates. Have any of our people reached your space?”

   “Not to our knowledge,” Orlova replied. “Certainly none have ever reached the Confederation, though I can't necessarily say the same for the Republic or the United Nations, still less for the Cabal.”

   “Cabal?” Lostok asked. “Sergeant Perry had briefed us on the state of affairs at Sol when he left, but he never mentioned a fourth interstellar power.”

   “We only contacted them after he was lost,” Nelyubov replied. “I've arranged for a full briefing on the state of the galaxy as we know it, for you to examine at your leisure.”

   Looking around the room, Orlova said, “What happens next, gentlemen? How are you going to defend your new world?”

   “We aren't,” Lostok replied, coldly. “We have no defense systems, no fleet, and in a very short time a Xandari force will arrive. Whereupon they will almost certainly destroy the settlement from orbit, and send down hunter troupes to finish off any of us who are left.” Shaking his head, he said, “Within the next couple of weeks, Cyndar's population will only consist of the dead.”

   Powell, eyes wide, said, “At best, Alamo could only evacuate a hundred of your people. Perhaps thirty on Daedalus, assuming we can restore it to service.”

   “No need,” Lostok said, his eyes twinkling. “We've been planning this escape for years, Lieutenant, and I assure you we have a plan, though we had assumed it would be a Collective vessel helping us implement it.”

   “I assure you,” Orlova said, “that you will not find Alamo wanting.”

   “Good. In thirty-six hours, local time, a bulk transport will be arriving in orbit. Larger than anything in either of our respective fleets, three times as large as your battlecruiser and with plenty of room for everyone. My people will need to make some modifications, but they are not extensive. I believe that the vessel is used as a personnel transport on occasion.”

   “Wait a moment,” Nelyubov interrupted. “The Xandari have vessels in service that can transport five thousand troops at a time? We don't have anything capable of holding a tenth of that number.”

   Frowning, Powell replied, “I can't see any technical reasons why such a vessel would not work, though the power and structural requirements would be daunting. How large a crew does it hold?”

   “None,” Lostok said. “The vessel is completely unmanned.”

   “We're going to want to take a long look at that technology,” Orlova said. “Are you sure it will come in time?”

   “Certain, and it always comes in empty.” Frowning, he replied, “Though we expect that there will be a small escort. Nothing you can't handle, I hope.”

   Shaking his head, Nelyubov said, “If the damage reports I've been seeing are anything to go by, I think we'll struggle to get the ship to combat readiness in the time. What sort of vessel are we talking about.”

   “Just a small picket ship,” Kelot said. “I would have assumed that a warship as powerful as yours would have no problem facing such limited opposition.”

   “We'll do our part,” Orlova replied.

   “Once the ship is secured, we can make such modifications as are required to bring the ship under manual operation, and load sufficient supplies for the trip back to our space.” Lostok looked around, and said, “My people want to go home, Captain.”

   “How far?”

   “Five jumps from here.” Taking a deep breath, the Neander said, “And I must formally request an escort. We'd never make it back alone, though duty binds me to make the attempt. We'll have to break through enemy lines to return to our territory.”

   Tapping a control, Orlova said, “Engineering, please. Is Lieutenant Quinn there?”

   “I'm here, Captain,” Quinn replied, his voice tinny over the hastily repaired intercom. “What's the problem?”

   “I need a status report, Jack.”

   “How long have you got?”

   “Bottom line. Can you fix our girl.”

   There was a long pause, and the engineer said, “Not to full combat readiness, I can't. Not without a space-dock. Too much damage to the superstructure, too much equipment we can't repair. I can patch her up enough to get back to the Confederation, as long as we can avoid another battle. Fuel won't be a problem now. I've already got a tanker shuttle heading down to the surface.”

   “Thanks, Jack. Keep me posted.” She turned back to Lostok, and said, “I know it isn't what you want to hear, but I can offer you safe passage back to the Confederation. From there you can accompany the task force.”

   “That could take months, years, or never!” Kelot said, slamming his fist on the table. “Damn them, Lostok. We'll go without them, and fight our way through with what we have.”

   Shaking his head, Molpa said, “If that is your plan, then I think I will ask Captain Orlova if she needs another engineer. I have better things to do with my life than bring it to a pointless end.”

   “We cannot proceed without escort,” Lostok said. “There is another option, though it will lengthen our flight home. Our people encountered a free port, in neutral space, just before the onset of the war. Reports suggest that it remains in position, and it has facilities suitable for the repair of starships like yourselves.”

   “Despite the Xandari?”
Powell asked.

   “They are permitted to use the facilities as well,” Molpa replied. “The station is truly neutral, and has defenses that would make capturing it an expensive proposition. Of course, our information is some years out of date.”

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “Then you are asking me to take a leap into the dark, to a system that might be under enemy control.”

   “I'm afraid that is exactly what I am asking, Captain.” Sitting forward, Lostok added, “I have something to offer in exchange, though.”

   “And that is?”

   “At the very least, mutual exchange of information. Everything my people have learned about the Xandari, including full maps of their territory, projected fleet strength, all the information you ventured into space to collect and more besides. At best, alliance with a friendly power. Between us, we can beat them. I'm convinced of it.” He paused, then said, “Don't think that I am using this information as a bargaining chip. If I had it here, I would give it to you, but it was stolen with my ship. Nevertheless, I am certain that my people back home will supply you with everything you need. Maybe even an escort back to your space.”

   Orlova looked at Nelyubov, then back to Lostok, saying, “I'll have to talk to my officers about this in some detail, and go over the proposed plan. For the present, we will prepare to take the freighter. No matter what happens, we must get your people safely away from this planet, and that's the first step. As for the rest, you will have my decision in two days.”

   “Indecision, Captain?” Kelot asked.

   “Caution,” she replied.

  Chapter 8

   Harper looked across at Sergeant Perry, craning in his seat to get a good look at Daedalus as they closed on the old, abandoned ship, the shuttle slowly curving in towards it. She'd drawn the inspection mission simply by having nothing more critical to do. Every other officer was engaged in the repair work, and Orlova had decided that she could delay her next sleep period by a couple of hours. The rest of the team had been selected along similar lines, and she caught Spaceman Bartlett stifling a yawn, while Spaceman Ingram seemed on the verge of dropping off altogether.