Battlecruiser Alamo: Forbidden Seas

by Richard Tongue

   Salazar's communicator chirped, and he belatedly realized that the were now in signal range of the hand units. He quickly clipped it into the half-ruined primary feed, and a stream of telemetry surged into the computers, guiding them towards closest approach for the docking. As he watched, a series of lights erupted from the enemy battlecruisers, fifteen new trajectory tracks flashing onto the screen, heading right for Daedalus.

   “Harper to Salazar,” the overhead speaker screamed. “That was great flying, Pavel!”

   “You'll have to think my chauffeur,” he replied. “I'm just a passenger on this trip.”

   “You're clear for docking, anyway. I thought you might want a lift.”

   “Perfect timing as ever, Kris. We'll be on board in a minute.” He looked across at Maqua, concentration on his face as they closed on the Daedalus. The world was reduced to the target reticule and the fine thruster controls as he guided them into final approach, trying to guide them with millimeter-perfect precision to their goal.

   The loud cluck of the docking clamps was almost an anticlimax, and the overhead hatch burst open, a young technician urging them forward, dropping down to help with the two unconscious Neander while Rhodes made his way into the ship, Salazar following, throwing a few switches on the automatic pilot while Maqua dragged Lostok away.

   “Something I forgot, sir?” he asked.

   “Nothing you need to worry about,” Salazar said. “Just a last surprise for our friends out there.” He tapped the control panel, and muttered, “Thank you,” as he turned, climbing up the ladder one handed, before collapsing on the deck of Daedalus. Behind him, the hatch closed, the shuttle racing away from the ship, now under automatic control.

   “Where's she going?” Rhodes asked.

   “She's got a date with the Xandari, Private, and I don't want her to be late to the dance.” Climbing to his feet, he looked at the young technician, and said, “Who are you?”

   “Spaceman Perry, sir. Third class.” She looked down at the two unconscious forms on the floor, and said, “Isn't that...”

   “Just tell me how I can get to the bridge.”

   “Spaceman Garland will...”

   “This can wait,” Salazar said, gesturing at his wounded arm, staggering along the deck. “Directions, Spaceman.”

  Chapter 24

   Harper smiled in satisfaction as her status board reported that the shuttle had docked, only to frown again as it separated from Daedalus, racing off towards the oncoming missiles. Frantically, she tapped a control, but before she could raise the lower deck, the door behind her opened, Salazar limping in, holding his left arm with his right, crashing down on a couch.

   “Pilot,” he said, “You should have control of the shuttle. Guide it in.” Shaking his head, he said, “Control channel Three-Alpha.”

   “Do it,” Harper said, turning back to Salazar. “You all right?”

   Raising an eyebrow, he replied, “Next stupid question.” He smiled, weakly nodded, and said, “I'll be fine. Just get us out of here.”

   “Scott, you heard what the man said,” she ordered.

   “Aye, ma'am,” Scott replied. “Initiating 'get the hell out of here'. Moving to full acceleration, positive course track for the hendecaspace point.” Reaching over to a second panel, she said, “I've got good guidance on the shuttle, but signal strength is weakening fast.”

   Nodding, Salazar said, “It's linked into a hand communicator. Main system was wrecked.”

   “On it,” Ingram replied, not waiting for orders. “Boosting transmission strength. I think I can give you ten thousand kilometers. Maybe.”

   “Keep it close,” Harper ordered, watching the missiles range in as they soared past closest approach. She looked at the sensor display, shaking her head. Every other friendly ship had either left the system or been destroyed. Daedalus was all that remained. That she'd chosen this course of action didn't make her feel any better about the consequences.

   “Damn,” Perry said. “I'm getting more energy spikes, three of them, one from each enemy vessel. Looks like the laser-missiles, moving to envelop us.”

   “More speed, Kat,” Harper said. “Give it everything we've got.”

   “I already am!” she replied, throwing the ship into a dizzying array of evasive maneuvers. Up ahead, the shuttle completed its final mission, soaking all but one of the missiles meant for Daedalus, only one still diving towards the raider.

   “Hold on!” Harper said, as the warhead smashed into the side of the hull, a horrible grinding noise reverberating around the ship as it tore into the hull armor, the ship tossed to one side as air escaped from broken compartments, Scott fighting with the helm in a bid to bring Daedalus back under some sort of control.

   “It's bad,” Arkhipov said. “Damage to secondary power relays, primary water reservoir is wrecked, as well as oxygen tanks two and three. Storage Two is essentially gone, and the armory is exposed to space.”

   “Vent any affected compartments,” Salazar offered. “Scott, you do it, and add it to the random walk. If you don't know where they are going, they won't either.”

   Scott glanced at Harper who nodded in response, before turning back to her controls, her fingers rattling the keys on the board as she worked to merge the effects of the ship's damage into her evasive maneuvers, the forward trajectory plot twisting around like spaghetti as they lurched towards their goal, the enemy ships now behind them, struggling and failing to keep up with their acceleration.

   All around them, the three laser-missiles moved into range, lining up their shots. Alamo had been able to launch a retaliatory strike, but Daedalus lacked that luxury. Harper glanced at the sensor display again, shaking her head. They were clear, near as damn it, with a straight run to the egress point if they could only evade contact.

   “Come on,” she muttered, urging the engines on was Scott dragged the ship around, giving it all the speed she could muster as the vessel slid through space. As far as she could see, they were less than fifteen seconds from destruction.

   Perry turned, and said, “Let them make their run. We'll never stop them this way.”

   Nodding, Harper said, “Kat, make it look as though we're damaged again.”

   “They'll never buy that trick twice,” Ingram said.

   With a shrug, Scott said, “They might. It's all I can do to keep us on a stable course as it is.” Stabbing at the thrusters to set them on a slow, rolling spin, she said, “Lateral thrusters ready to fire.”

   “Guess right, Kat,” Harper said, as the laser-missiles locked onto their target, their courses converging to prevent any risk of failure. Salazar looked on, his face pale, glancing at the helm, obviously longing to take it himself, his arm confining him to the crash couch.

   “Now!” Scott yelled, slamming down the controls, less than a second before the laser-missiles detonated, sending their deadly terawatt blast harmlessly careening through space.

   “We did it,” Harper quietly said, shaking her head. “We really did it.”

   Nodding, Scott replied, “Egress point in two minutes, ten seconds. Course is computed and on the screen, and all systems show clear for dimensional transit.”

   “You have the call. Sergeant, start gathering damage reports,” Harper said, turning back to Salazar. “What the hell happened back there?”

   “Lostok was the traitor,” he gasped. “All the time. He managed to get on board the shuttle and tried to force us to surrender.” Shaking his head, he added, “We had other plans.”

   “So I gathered.”

   “Kris, thanks. For coming after me.”

   “You've done the same for me.”

   “Still,” he said, looking around the bridge, “You did it with style.” His head dropped back, the exertion finally too much for him, and he slumped in the chair, unconscious. Unclipping her restraints, Harper stepped back, quietly took his pulse, then st
rapped him into position, careful with his wounded arm.

   “I'll get Garland up here as soon as he's finished with the Neander,” Ingram said. “Looks like both of them are going to pull through.”

   Without a word Perry rose from his chair and stepped off the bridge, his face locked in grim determination. Harper glanced at Arkhipov, who leaned across to his station before shaking his head with a deep sigh.

   “I think he's heading for the Armory.”

   “Why?”

   “According to this, there was only one fatality.”

   “Damn. Scott, take the conn.”

   Without waiting for acknowledgment, she raced down the corridor after the silent Perry, trying to catch him before he reached the compartment. She called after him, but he didn't respond, instead simply implacably marching as though on parade, until he reached the compartment, opening the hatch.

   Harper sprinted after him, glancing up at the status board to make sure the auto-sealant had done its work, and looked into the smashed chamber, as Perry knelt by the battered body of his granddaughter, tears flowing from his cheeks as he reached down to gently close her eyes with his hand, granting her a little peace in death.

   He looked up at her, his face a mask of rage, and said, “Get out of my way.”

   “Sergeant, I'm so damn sorry.”

   Ignoring her, he pushed past, pulling his pistol out of his holster, and stepped across the corridor to the medical unit, ignoring the protestations of Garland as he walked over to the nearest bed, looking down at the prone figure of Lostok. Harper stepped in after him, gesturing the medic away, as Perry leveled his gun at the unconscious Neander.

   “He did this,” Perry said. “He killed them all. Thousands of people, dozens of my friends, and my only grandchild.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “This is justice.”

   “No it isn't,” Harper said, “and you know it. This is revenge.” She stepped over to his side, and said, “If you're going to do it, at least admit why.”

   Tears running down his cheeks, he said, “This man...”

   “No, he didn't. You can blame me, if you want. I'm the one who decided to make a second pass through the system, held us up to rescue Salazar, Rhodes and Maqua.” Looking back across the corridor, she said, “That's what she died for. To rescue three of her shipmates.”

   “Not enough,” Perry said, lowering the pistol at Lostok's head.

   With a sigh, Harper turned to Garland, and said, “Spaceman, leave the room.”

   “Under no cir...”

   “That is a direct order, Spaceman!” she barked. “Leave this room at once!”

   He jerked back, looking at her as though she was a stranger, then nodded, heading out into the corridor. Harper looked down at Lostok again, then up at Perry, his hand trembling.

   “If you really feel you need to do this, Sergeant, then go ahead and do it. The record will show that he died during the battle, and no one will ever know what you did. I won't tell a soul. The only person you'll have to live with is yourself.” With one last glance down at the Neander, she said, “He's a cold, ruthless bastard who deserves to stand trial, but if you feel merciful enough to grant him a quick death, that's your choice. Do as you wish.”

   Without looking back, she stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. The lights dimmed for a second, and she realized that Daedalus had escaped to hendecaspace, leaving Cyndar behind forever. Garland stared at her with cold eyes, and a shot echoed around the ship, coming from sickbay. A moment later, Perry walked out, and passed the pistol to Harper, butt first.

   Garland raced in, and said, “He's alive. He didn't...”

   “Promise me something,” Perry said. “He will come to trial. He will face punishment for what he has done.” Turning to look at him, he added, “And when twelve good men and true find him guilty, I will command the firing squad myself. When he dies, I want him to know who pulled the trigger.”

   Waving her datapad, she replied, “From what Salazar said, I don't think there's any risk of him being found innocent, and while I suspect there will be a long list of people wanting to be on that firing squad, I'll make sure you're in charge on the day. That's the least I can do.” She turned back to the armory, looking through the door at the body of Spaceman Perry, lying prone on the deck, almost as though she was asleep, and shook her head. “Go and take care of her, Sergeant.”

   “I will.” He turned, paused, then looked back at Harper, saying, “It wasn't your fault.”

   “Go, Sergeant.”

   He nodded, and she walked down the corridor, quietly stepping into the bridge. Scott turned, and triumphantly gestured at the screen, their path through hendecaspace flashing into view, a five-day flight through the somehow welcoming alien dimension, that would see them reunited with their friends at the other end of the journey.

   There was a small hatch by the side of the communications station, the cramped office of the ship's commanding officer, and she stepped inside for the first time, looking around at the clutter within. Evidently the Xandari had never bothered to clean the place up, had decided it was too unimportant for them to bother with. Not that it mattered right now.

   She swept a cloud of dusty documents from the only chair in the room, sat down behind it, held her head in her hands, and started to weep. All she could see in her mind was the twisted form of Spaceman Perry when she stepped into the armory after the battle. She'd been on dangerous missions before, and this wasn't her first taste of death, not by any means. This was different, somehow. Worse even than Thule, than Phaeton. Then someone else had been in command, someone else had the final responsibility, even if on some level she still blamed herself.

   The difference was that there was no room for doubt, not this time. She was in charge, and she had made the decision that had condemned Perry to die. She longed for someone to step into the office and comfort her, to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that she didn't have a choice, that she had traded one life for five, but none of that helped.

   For a long time, she sat alone in the office, her tears watering the desk, running through her hands. Reaching into a cupboard, she found a half-used box of tissues, and snatched one to her face, wiping the wetness away, before taking a deep breath and standing to attention, looking at her reflection in the viewscreen.

   Then, stepping out onto the bridge, she said, “The fun part's over, people. Now let's clean up the mess. I want this ship pristine by the time we return to normal space.” Now, at least to a degree, she understood how Marshall and Orlova coped.

   They didn't. But as long as no one else knew that, it would all work out in the end.

  Chapter 25

   Salazar watched as Harper loitered at the airlock hatch, giving the latest in a string of last-minute instructions to Scott, who shook her head as she entered the new orders into her datapad. She finally ducked inside, and Salazar's eyes widened as he saw her hair. The bright green was gone, replaced by a mousy brown, arranged in a semblance of a regulation haircut, and her uniform was clean, well-pressed and pristine. Not once in the year he had known her had he ever seen her outfitted in such a way. Strangely, it seemed to suit her.

   “That's it, I think, Kat. I suppose the rest of it will be up to my successor.” Taking one last look through the hatch, she said, “Take good care of her.”

   “Don't worry, Lieutenant,” Scott replied, shaking her head. “We're only in parking orbit. Everything will be fine.”

   “I hope so. Oh, that Number Two Regulator...”

   “Enough!” Salazar said, “See you later, Scott.” He tapped a control, and the door swung shut. “Maqua, get us moving.”

   “Aye, sir,” the Neander replied, turning back from the helm with a grin.

   Shaking her head, Harper said, “I could charge you with insubordination.” A thin smile crossed her face, and she continued, “How bad was I?”

 
 “Insufferable. But in a better way than normal, I think.” As the shuttle detached from Daedalus to begin the flight to Alamo, he saw her looking wistfully out of the window, and said, “They say that first command is like first love. Always special.”

   “Last command,” she replied. “No one in their right mind would ever put me in charge of anything again.” Shaking her head, she sighed, and added, “Nor should they.”

   “Don't put yourself down, Kris. You did magnificently back there. Trust me, I've seen the best, and you're up there.”

   “Maybe some of my father rubbed off on me after all.”

   “No,” he replied. “That was pure, distilled Kristen Harper, and all the more glorious for that. Everyone approaches command in their own way. I know that much, anyway. You take what you know and build on that.” Gesturing at the hair, he said, “What's with the change?”

   “I just felt like it,” she said. “Thought I'd go back to my old color.” She looked at him, then added, “Maybe I decided it was time I grew up.”

   “Alamo in one minute, sir,” Maqua said. “I guess this is the end of the line for me, as well. I had a signal from the Redemption half an hour ago. I'm to report to duty in Shuttle Maintenance. It's a promotion, I suppose.” Looking around, he said, “Maybe one day I'll get to fly one of these babies again.”

   “Hang around when we land,” Salazar replied. “Someone's going to need a ride back to Daedalus, and I'm sure the hangar gang can use the help.”

   “Thanks, sir,” the Neander said, tapping a control. “This is a lot easier with working computers, but not as much fun.”

   “You're crazy,” Harper replied. “After the last fortnight, I'll take nice and normal for a while.”

   “I'm not sure we're going to get the chance,” Salazar said. “We've still got the Xandari on our tail, and the Neander are still tearing themselves apart over Lostok's confession. And...”