Battlecruiser Alamo: Forbidden Seas

by Richard Tongue

   “Mars is nothing like that, though Earth is heading in that direction. That's one of the reasons we rebelled, threw off our colonial oppressors and established ourselves as a free alliance. In the Confederation, everyone gets a vote, and everyone gets a fair chance to fulfill their potential.”

   “It sounds wonderful,” he replied, wistfully. “A paradise. I'd love to see it some day.”

   Throwing a series of switches, Salazar said, “Don't be too sure. None of our founder members were inhabitable worlds, and it's only in the last couple of years that we've had access to real air and water. I grew up in a series of domes and space stations.” Shaking his head, he added, “It still seems strange stepping out into the open without a suit.”

   The transport grew larger and larger in the screen, and Aussketi stepped forward from the rear section, stopping in her track and gazing at it with reverent awe, her eyes soaking in every detail of its lines from stem to stern. After a moment, she shook herself out of the reverie.

   “Lostok wants us to go for Docking Bay Forty-One. It's larger than we need, but we're going to want it for the heavy equipment shuttles that are next on the roster.”

   “Number Forty-One it is,” he replied, tapping a control to engage the approach. Then he raised his hands from the panel, flexing them back and forth and looking at Maqua with a smile. “Ouch. You'd better take it.”

   “What's wrong?” Aussketi asked with a panicked stare.

   “My fingers are cramping. Take her in, co-pilot. Nominal approach. Everything's set.”

   With a nervous glance, Maqua replied, “Aye, sir. Reverse thrusters slowing, activating docking computer.”

   Leaning forward, Aussketi whispered, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

   “Giving him a chance to show what he can do. Besides, I think he's earned this.”

   She slumped back in her seat, shaking her head, while the novice pilot cautiously peered at the instruments, making tiny adjustments to guide the shuttle in, monitoring the controls to make sure that the computer was doing everything right. Salazar thought back to his first solo, the constant urge to take control for himself, certain that he knew better than the expert systems. The temptation was all but impossible to resist, and an instant failure if a pilot indulged it without excellent reason.

   As he flicked from one display to the next, running through the pre-docking checklists, Salazar nodded with satisfaction as his pupil brought them closer and closer to the monolithic vessel alongside, bringing up the approach view on the main screen, frowning as it seemed to drift too far to the right before the computer began a series of cautious corrections to steer them in.

   Finally, at the last second, he rested his hands on the controls, and Salazar smiled as he saw where he had positioned himself. Not for a manual docking, but for an abort. Textbook procedure, precisely by the book, though he could see Aussketi looking at him with disdain. With a series of loud clangs, the shuttle docked to the side of the transport, the seals locking into place.

   “Excellent,” he said, clapping the Neander on the shoulder. “I couldn't have handled that any better myself.”

   “Wait a minute,” Aussketi said, looking at her board. “I'm picking up an imperfect seal on the airlock. We're losing atmosphere.” She paused, then added, “And an energy buildup on the far side. Power levels rising rapidly.”

   Reaching across, Salazar worked the controls to disengage the shuttle, to send it drifting back out into free space, but the mechanism refused to operate, the two ships still locked together. The override had no different effect, and he shook his head with a curse.

   “What did I do?” Maqua asked, his eyes darting back and forth.

   “Nothing,” Salazar replied. “This was my fault, not yours. The hatch has been booby trapped, safeguarded against unauthorized intrusion. I should have gone out and inspected it before we approached.”

   “Were you ordered to do that?” Aussketi asked.

   “No, but that's no excuse.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “I didn't think of it either. We've got to detach the shuttle manually. We can work the release from outside the ship.”

   Nodding, he said, “I'll get suited up right now. You two monitor me from here.”

   “It's a two-person job,” she pressed, “and in this case, I'm the second person. Maqua can keep an eye on the controls and guide it to a safe distance as soon as we free the lock.”

   “I don't have time to argue with you,” Salazar said, tugging his spacesuit from the locker, before turning to his co-pilot. “Brief the passengers, but don't let them interrupt us with any helpful suggestions. We know what we need to do out there, and we'll be a lot faster if we're allowed to get on with it without interruption.” He paused, then added, “And call Captain Orlova, and let them know what's going on. Tell Alamo to get Shuttle Three ready for launch in case a daring rescue is needed.”

   “Yes, sir,” Maqua said, turning to his station. Salazar glanced at Aussketi, shocked as he saw that she had almost finished donning her suit, the final few connections snapping into place before him despite his head start. He hurriedly completed the checklist, then stepped into the familiar pilot's airlock, working the mechanism to pass him through the inner and outer doors, grabbing a toolkit from the rack before pushing out into space.

   Turning on this thrusters, he eased his way forward, along the shuttle, towards the docking hatch, and pulled off the inspection cover. Aussketi was behind him, swinging from one handhold to another without her suit jets, a beaming smile on her face.

   “The problem must be on the other side,” she replied. “And I know this equipment a lot better than you. I've been working EVA maintenance since I was old enough to hold a servospanner. You check your shuttle, and I'll handle the transport.”

   “You've used this equipment before?”

   A smile spreading across her face, she replied, “My family helped build this ship, Sub-Lieutenant, though I was born long after it was launched. I know it as well as you know the cockpit of that shuttle. Probably better.” Pulling a multi-tool from her belt, she pushed towards the side of the transport, working a panel free with one hand while holding onto the nearest handhold with another. “Surprised?”

   “I guess I didn't think you were the sort of person to get your hands dirty.”

   “Because I was the Guild Master's personal pilot?” she said, sliding the panel to the side, clamping it to the hull with a magnet. “That was just a sideline, a bit of prestige for a few years before I commanded a ship of my own.” With a sigh, she paused for a second, and said, “I might have it by now, if we hadn't been captured.”

   With a grunt, Salazar threw back a series of switches, reaching inside and cutting a wire, saying, “That's it at my end. We're loose.”

   “Two more locks here. We built these ships with a lot of redundancy, I'm afraid.” She cursed as a small metal part drifted away, Salazar reaching up to snatch it as it sailed past him. He passed it back to her with a smile.

   “Thanks,” she said.

   “No problem. Right now, I'm working for you.”

   “Now you're getting the idea. One lock to go.”

   Salazar looked back and watched her work, her fingers digging into the guts of the unfamiliar machinery, moving parts and adjusting components, cutting cables and wires with the adaptive tool, working with a confidence that could only have been born of long practice. He glanced down at his wrist readout, and frowned.

   “That power buildup is growing, and fast. I'd say we're looking at some sort of controlled detonation at any time.”

   “How big?” she asked.

   “Big enough that we'll have to think of another way of getting your people out of this system.”

   Nodding, she replied, “We're free. Maqua, fire forward thrusters, one long pulse, and get the shuttle well away from the side of the ship.” Glancing u
p at him, she replied, “I'd like to see if we can disarm it. No one else could be here in time.” Pausing for a second, she said, “Of course, you're free to go back to the shuttle if you want.”

   “I came here to do a job, and I'm going to do it,” he said. “Maqua, do what she said. Hopefully we'll be along in a few minutes.”

   “Let me come out,” he replied.

   “Someone has to fly the shuttle,” Salazar said, “and that's you. Do as I say.”

   With a sigh, the young pilot replied, “Aye, sir. Firing forward thruster.” A second later, the shuttle started to drift away, reversing from the trap in which it had unwittingly been caught, quickly moving to what Salazar hoped was a safe distance before Maqua fired a reverse pulse, hanging the shuttle motionless with respect to the transport, just within reach of a long jump in their suits.

   “Insubordinate,” Aussketi said.

   “Brave,” Salazar countered.

   “Both,” she replied. “Let's go in.”

   The two of them stepped into the docking lock, Salazar marveling at the intricate mechanism, components obviously designed to last for centuries, not years. This ship would still be flying when Alamo had long since been consigned to the scrapyard. Noticing his admiring gaze, Aussketi flashed a smile at him.

   “We built these to withstand centuries of flight,” she replied, as the lock all too slowly cycled. “You aren't seeing them at their best. These were some of the smaller ships in our fleet.”

   “Small?”

   “They were built for exploration, not trade, with huge fusion motors to propel them through the stars, laser sails for the initial boost. We were planning to expand beyond our three systems, to see what else we might find. Other lost colonies, alien races, new worlds to settle.” Shaking her head, she said, “And now the dream of a world becomes our only hope of salvation.”

   The inner door swung open, and Salazar pushed inside, his eyes wide as they drifted into a huge chamber, at least half a mile across, large enough that there were small clouds forming at its heart. Beams of light shone down to illuminate the visiting spacemen, tiny dots in a huge, empty space.

   “This is astounding,” he said, looking around. “Larger than any space station in the Confederation, and capable of interstellar travel.”

   “As I said, you aren't seeing her at her best. All of this was power and drive units, forty years ago, before we carved it out to serve as a hendecaspace transport. Now she can barely move at a crawl, and only for short hops.” She looked around, and said, “I think we've found what we've come for. Over on the right.”

   Salazar pushed over to the device, and frowned, recognizing it in a second as a Triplanetary field charge, a large one. He reached down to the control panel and started to enter command codes, nodding as the safeguards began to spring into life, one after another, the mechanism powering down.

   “I thought it looked like your technology.”

   “This isn't meant for military purposes,” he said. “It's for asteroid mining, mostly. Three of the largest make of charges slammed together.” Shaking his head, he replied, “Crude, but it would have done the job if it had been allowed to go off. There would have been a hull breach that would have been damn near impossible to fix.” Entering the final code combination, he said, “There. That's it. Rendered safe.” He ducked down to the floor, working at the restraint bolts with his servospanner. “Give me a hand.”

   “What are you doing?”

   “I don't like having big bombs on a civilian ship. Once it's outside we can examine it at our leisure.”

   Nodding, she knelt down, detaching the bolts at twice the speed of the clumsy Salazar, carefully pocketing the components as she removed them. After a moment's work, the bomb was free, and they maneuvered it carefully into the airlock, working the mechanism again to cycle the locks. He looked down at the bomb as the atmosphere drained from the room, shaking his head. If he'd made a mistake, and it exploded now, they'd both be dead before they knew anything about it.

   Finally, the doors slid open, and the two of them unceremoniously pushed it clear, making sure to place it on a trajectory well clear of the shuttle. The two of them looked at each other, and he gestured back at the docking system.

   “Can you put it back together again?”

   “Of course,” she replied.

   “You'd better get started, then. We're on a tight schedule.” Tapping a control, he said, “Salazar to Maqua. Come in.”

   “I'm here, sir. The power levels have dropped away, and I have a firm course plot on that thing you just threw out. Was that the bomb?”

   “It was indeed. Call Alamo and have them send a security team over to take a look at it before it drifts too far. I'm coming over to fix our docking gear. We'll be docking in a few minutes.” Looking back at the transport, he shook his head again. The ship was three miles across. What other nasty surprises were waiting for them inside?

  Chapter 14

   A loud roar echoed around the field as a trio of shuttles rose on their thrusters, roaring up into the heavens as one while Cooper watched, a crowd of Neander gathering in front of the Admin Dome. He glanced at Walpis, shaking his head. It was taking too long. Three days since the transport had been captured, and they were yet to lift a single civilian into orbit. Simply disarming the remainder of the traps had taken more than a day, which worried him even more. It had been far too easy, and they'd been far too obvious.

   He turned back to the crowd, shaking his head. He was only down here at all because the Captain was finally paying her long-awaited visit to the surface, doubtless in the middle of an argument with Lostok over their departure plans. Pulling out his datapad, he scrolled through the timetable again, as Salazar walked over towards him, helmet in hand, one of the Neander in his wake.

   “Pavel, what's the story with the transport? You're the only one of our people spending any time up there.”

   “Almost ready,” he replied. “That's going to be the home of a lot of people for weeks, maybe months,” he said. “We can't rush it. Though it's taking a lot longer than I'd like, I admit.” He looked out at the crowd, packs of Neander gathered with their possessions by the landing bays, as though expecting to be lifted into space at any moment. “They're not going up today, I know that.”

   “Can we do it in time?”

   With a sigh, Salazar replied, “Maybe. With all the shuttles stuffed to capacity, we can manage a little under eighteen hundred at once. Three trips.”

   “Don't forget unloading time, sir,” the Neander said.

   A smile creeping onto his face, Salazar added, “Meaning, I think, something like twelve hours. Though I'd rather take thirty-six if we can. Some of those ships down there haven't been used in years. I'm not sanguine about how they'll take the loads.”

   “So the situation isn't hopeless, then.”

   “We're certainly heading that way,” he replied, “but I don't think we're quite there yet. Though if Molpa and his team don't speed up a little, we're going to be in real trouble. Is the Captain out yet? I need to speak to her about something.”

   “She's still in her meeting with Lostok,” he replied.

   “After five hours? What the hell is he ranting on about?”

   Shaking his head, Cooper said, “You two really don't get on, do you.”

   “Let's just say that we have totally incompatible world-views, and leave it at that.”

   “He's Highborn, sir,” the Neander said.

   “I don't care,” Salazar replied. “Oh, this is Maqua, my perpetual co-pilot and the hottest rocket jockey on this field.” Gesturing across, he continued, “Ensign Gabriel Cooper, commander of our Espatier force.”

   Nodding, Maqua said, “Is it true that you have Neander serving under you?”

   “They're all up at Battle Pass at the moment, but yes.” Frowning, he glanced towards the mountains, and added, “I sho
uld be up there myself, keeping an eye on things. I'm not sure I trust Kelot not to try something stupid.”

   “Corporal Walpis can keep him on the straight and narrow, can't he?”

   “I hope so.”

   “Corporal?” Maqua asked, in awe. “A commander?”

   “Squad leader. And yes, there are people from both races under his command. He's a ten-year veteran, late of the United States Army on Thule. Joined our Fleet a few months ago.”

   “See,” Salazar said. “I told you.”

   Another loud roar announced the departure of four more heavy shuttles, bearing a load of equipment destined for the starship. Far across the field, a fifth, far smaller one, launched, taking a different trajectory, skimming low over the mountains.

   “Where's he going?” Cooper asked.

   “Daedalus, and I haven't the faintest idea. Sergeant Perry asked for it, something about spare parts. We aren't using it in the evacuation, anyway. It's only a two-seater.” Glancing around, he said, “Don't make a big deal of it, though. I never got around to asking anyone.”

   The volume of the crowd abruptly rose as the entrance to the Admin Dome slid open, Orlova and Lostok walking out side-by-side, though neither seemed to be looking at the other. Orlova's face was red, and Cooper could detect the rage in her eyes as he walked over to her.

   “I gather it didn't go well, ma'am,” he asked, as Lostok walked over to talk to one of his aides.

   “That's the understatement of the century, Ensign.” Shaking her head, she said, “If it was just him and his insufferable command team, I'd leave them here to rot.” Turning to Salazar, she said, “Give me some good news, Sub-Lieutenant.”

   “I'd hate to be court-martialed for lying to my commanding officer, ma'am.”

   With a deep sigh, she said, “Tell me the worst.”

   “We're at least a day behind where we should be on the loading schedule. I think we can make the time up, but it's going to mean essentially forgetting about most of the safety regulations, and the top pilots are going to be smashing records on flight time duration. We're going to need a few waivers.”