“It isn't that simple. Not this time.”
“That's not the Pavel Salazar I'm used to.” She smiled, then said, “If this is a case of command jitters, then...”
“You know me better than that,” he replied. “Look, I'd never have sought a command. I might be the least ambitious officer in the Fleet, but that doesn't mean I don't feel capable of serving as Alamo's Captain. If I didn't think I could handle the job, then I'd turn it over to someone else. Francis, you, Foster. We have other options.”
Resting her hand on his, she gave him a quick squeeze, and said, “Don't turn over command to me. Not ever. I don't want the damned job.”
He flashed a smile, and said, “Careful, love. You might end up with it yet, before this party is over. Though I assure you I will do everything I can to postpone that day.”
“You'd damned well better,” she replied. “I've got plans for you, and glorious duels to the death aren't among them.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Should I be nervous?”
“Yes. But back to the point...”
“Max is right,” Salazar said. “And at the back of your mind, you know it as well. We're in danger of stepping right into the lion's mouth. We came far closer to instant annihilation than I'm comfortable with back at the shattered planet, and I'm not sure that there's any wisdom in going back for a second attempt. If the anomaly is the heart of some technological advanced empire, then maybe we ought to just quietly tiptoe our way out of the area, and hope we haven't attracted too much notice already.”
“Captain Marshall once said that risk was our business.”
“If I recall the records, that was just prior to a mission that almost got everyone killed.” As the duel continued in the background, he said, “And yet there is something to that, and I know how close this crew is to the edge.” Fishing out a datapad, he continued, “We're two jumps from the penultimate target. And if I'm honest, I don't have high hopes. Just another anonymous red dwarf. The final target looks better, but it's a long way away. I'm not sure we'll make it.”
“The crew will follow where you lead, Pavel.”
“Will they? I'm not so sure of that. We've got a safe harbor, and that's a very seductive thing. How many of the crew are wondering about setting up shop there. Hell, I could make some very strong arguments to support that. We could bootstrap them to an interstellar civilization in one shot, construct new starships, really get them in gear. Maybe our descendants could find a way home.”
“You don't really believe that.”
With a sigh, he added, “A part of me would be willing to consider it, Kris, and if it was the best thing for the crew, I'd do it without a second thought. Thirteen jumps to the final target. Six months, at best, assuming no detours. That's lot to ask on the longest of long shots. We've got no real proof that there is anything there at all.” He shrugged, and said, “For that matter, the anomaly could be just as big a bust.”
“We just watched a planet being eaten, Pavel.”
“And a sane man would run.” Rubbing his forehead, he said, “We're getting depressingly close to not having anything left to lose.”
“While there's life, there's hope.”
“True enough. True enough. But there has to be more to life than that.” Tapping a control, he added, “We've got a wedding to go to, by the way.”
“I thought we'd had that discussion.”
Rolling his eyes, he replied, “Not ours, damn it. Though I still say we haven't made the final decision on that. I was talking about Spaceman Webster. She wants to marry Private Simons. Apparently they had a thing going before we left, and it's gotten serious enough that they want to take it to the next step. They met with me this morning, and I granted my permission. Ceremony scheduled three days after we jump, to give them both a chance for a least a short honeymoon.”
“That's a good thing, surely. For morale, if nothing else.” She grimaced, and said, “You're going to make me wear my dress uniform, aren't you.”
“Yes,” he replied, bluntly. “Besides, it suits you.”
“No, it doesn't.”
With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Consider it an order.”
“Aye, sir.” She threw him a mock salute, smiled, then said, “What's the problem, though?”
“The crew's pairing off. There's always an element of that on any long voyage, of course. No real problem as long as it's kept low-profile and doesn't affect anyone's performance. God knows I'm in no position to protest on this issue. It just feels a little more permanent this time. This isn't the usual assortment of flings. Simons told me that four others in the platoon are thinking along similar lines.” Looking at the duel once more, watching as Mortimer scored a graceful point with a nimble jab at Clarke's chest, he continued, “They're beginning to think that this is all there is going to be. That we're either going to end up going back to the colony, or settling one of our own.”
“Are we?”
“Doctor Strickland assures me that genetically, that isn't an option. Not for more than a couple of generations, in any case. Realistically, we don't have a choice. Cosmograd or nothing.”
“I'm guessing that means you've made a decision.”
Nodding, he replied, “I owe it to this crew to give them the best possible chance to get home. Failing that, I consider it my duty to give them the best odds of survival I can, and as far as I can see, there's only one option.”
“And that is?”
“Damn it!” Clarke exclaimed, as a sword strike caught him in the arm, breaking his concentration..
“That's it, I think,” Mortimer replied. “Close, this time. You got within two points.”
“Next time, Ronnie, I'll take you. Same time tomorrow?”
“I hope so,” Salazar said, as the crowd began to disperse. “These little tournaments are becoming pretty popular attractions. You ought to start thinking about selling tickets.” Rising to his feet, he said, “I'd like you both to get to the briefing room on the double. Don't worry about changing. This isn't going to take long.” Pulling his communicator out of his pocket, he tapped a control, and said, “Senior officers, report to the briefing room right away.” He made for the door, Harper, Mortimer and Clarke following close behind him.
“You going to keep us in suspense?” Harper asked.
“Might as well tell everyone at once,” he replied, stepping through the doors. Looking at Clarke, he said, “You're really improving.”
“I was out of practice,” the young officer replied.
“Not what I meant,” Salazar said, flashing him a thin smile. He looked down at his datapad again, glancing at the most recent stream of data coming in from the sensors. The planet behind them was visibly smaller, billions of tons of material being thrown towards the anomaly. At best guess, it would be forty thousand years in flight. Whoever wanted the minerals didn't seem to mind the long delay in delivery.
The doors slid open, and he stepped out into the briefing room, Francis, Santiago and Foster already waiting for him. He took his seat at the head of the table after a momentary hesitation, and gestured for the others to take their places. It still felt odd to hold this meeting himself; he kept waiting for Captain Marshall to walk into the room, ordering him back to his old position. After a moment, Carpenter walked in, followed by Scott, Lombardo and Rhodes, completing the collection.
“I presume you all have some idea why I've called this meeting,” Salazar began. “Lieutenant Carpenter, have we any more information than before about the nature of the anomaly?”
“Nothing definite, sir. Only that it's the largest body I've ever seen, and that it seems to be an almost perfect reflector of heat. Nothing's making its way in or out. No signals, either, though that could simply be distance. I find it hard to believe that nobody in that system is transmitting.” She looked around the table, then added, “My whole depa
rtment is ready to go, sir. The chance to study a black hole at such close range alone is worth the risk. We could gather data that would take centuries to analyze, throw cosmology forward by a couple of generations.”
Shaking his head, Francis replied, “I can't get past the danger involved. We don't have perfect data on the size of the black hole, and we've got no solid idea what it is we're heading for. There's only a pair of hendecaspace points out there, and both of them are close in to the anomaly. If there is anything strange out there, we'll be running right into it. And with gigawatt lasers flying around, we could be wiped out of existence in an instant. Without ever knowing what had happened.”
“Realistically,” Foster said, “I don't know if we have a choice. We can't keep stumbling around Andromeda forever, going from one desolate wasteland to another. If I see another set of enigmatic obelisks, I swear I'm going to go crazy.” Looking at Salazar, she added, “I think we need to investigate.”
Nodding, Salazar replied, “I agree. I think we're about at the end of the line, people. So far we've seen no trace of either Monitor or Nautilus. The trail is well and truly cold, and there's only one lead left to follow up. The anomaly. It's close enough to the wormhole that we can make a plausible case that it is the home of the wormhole builders, and that being the case, we've got to investigate further. To do otherwise would not be fair to the crew.”
“Then we're going in,” Francis said, nodding. “I'd recommend a complete diagnostic of all ship's systems before we make the attempt.”
“Agreed,” Salazar said. “Chief, draw anyone you need from any department to conduct it. I want all possible checks done before we leave the system.”
“Not a problem, sir,” she replied.
Looking around the room, Salazar said, “I want to emphasize that I am more than aware that this is a high-risk mission, and that we will take any possible means to mitigate that. We will not venture any closer than ten million miles to the black hole under any circumstances.” Looking at Carpenter, he added, “I am well aware that we could theoretically go somewhat closer, but I will not place the ship at risk. You'll have to do what you can with probes. I could be talked into the deployment of a modified transfer shuttle if you want something with greater capacity.”
“Thanks, sir,” Carpenter said. “My people will get to work on the modifications immediately. The scientific payoff...”
“Doesn't mean a damn thing if we don't have any way to report back our findings, Lieutenant. Remember that. As for the anomaly, we will keep well clear of it unless we have good reasons to go closer. Understand that I am perfectly happy to leave our target system with no more information than we entered it with, as long as we do manage to get clear. I hope that is clearly understood by you all.”
“What if we don't find anything, sir?” Scott asked. “Where do we go then?”
Folding his hands together, Salazar said, “We go back to Cosmograd, and take the local administration up on their offer to join their colony.” A babel of protests erupted, and he raised his hands to silence them. “I'm not taking this decision lightly. Chief, how's the ship?”
“Operational.”
“And how long can we operate without resupply. How long before we start running into real trouble with the maintenance routine?”
“Nine to twelve months. Dependent on any other damage we suffer, of course.”
Gesturing at the blank spot on the star map, the location of the anomaly, Salazar continued, “Even from here I can tell you something we didn't know for sure a few days ago. There are civilizations out here so far ahead of us that we might as well be swinging clubs. We are a long way from home, stranded in an unknown galaxy, and I will not place the lives of this crew at unjustified hazard. Visiting the anomaly is, in my judgment, worth the risk. Wandering blindly through the galaxy is not. From our target, we will be able to return to Cosmograd in five jumps, and conduct a full survey of all the surrounding stars as well.”
“We can't give up, sir,” Rhodes said. “We know that Nautilus made it home.”
“But we don't know how, Ensign,” Foster said, “and as much as I hate to admit it, Captain Salazar is quite correct. We could stagger on for two or three years, I suppose, the ship's condition worsening by the jump, but it wouldn't be long before we'd be forced to settle somewhere, and not a planet of our choosing. We'd be stranded. At Cosmograd, there is a functioning human civilization, and a world upon which we can walk, can breathe the air. That's not something blind luck will give us.”
“That's my final decision,” Salazar said. “Unless we find something at the anomaly, then we'll head back to a safe haven. The safety of the crew must come first.” Looking around, he continued, “Lieutenant Carpenter, I want your research plan outlined and on my desk in twenty-four hours. Scott, I want half a dozen battle stations drills held over the next four days. Don't tell anyone when, not even me. Let's make them as real as possible.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott said.
“You'll have that report ready in six hours, sir,” Carpenter replied with a beaming smile.
“Dismissed, then,” Salazar said, with a quick glance at Harper to confirm that she should remain in her seat. A faint murmur of conversation rippled through the officers as they left the room, Rhodes pausing at the threshold, turning to Salazar.
“Even when we got back to Cosmograd, sir, some of us could take Alamo out again. Have another try.”
“I know you've got the wanderlust, Frank. Don't worry. They'll have their own starships in ten years, and I suspect that someone will be able to talk them into another attempt to find the way home. Don't think of this as giving up. We're regrouping, nothing more.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, turning to leave the room. The door locked shut, and Salazar looked at Harper.
“Thoughts?”
She frowned, then said, “I'm not sure what else you could do. I'd guess that about a quarter of the crew will welcome it, probably about the same number will hate it, and the rest will follow the trend. Had you opted to go endlessly on into eternity, I suspect we'd have run into serious trouble in a few months, but as it is...” She paused, then continued, “What you said to Rhodes will take the pressure off. This isn't some virgin settlement where we'll be gathering berries and nuts. It's a technologically advanced civilization on the brink of starflight.”
Nodding, he replied, “I'd guess that Captain Rhodes and a few others would be heading off on the first starship, five, six years from now.”
“Not Captain Salazar?”
“Alamo's my ship now, and her crew are my responsibility. I'll help them build their first generation of starships, but I'll stay with my people. Besides, there's probably a better than even chance that another ship from home will be heading through at some point.”
“Also true.” She looked up at the slowly rotating star-chart, then said, “I just never thought it would end like this. With retreat.”
“We're just changing the direction of our attack,” Salazar said with a forced smile. “No, I agree with you. It doesn't feel right, somehow.” Looking up at the screen, he continued, “Let's just hope that the anomaly proves to be the answer to all our prayers. But either way, I think it's the end of the line.”
Chapter 4
Clarke sat down in the second row of chairs, taking his position with the rest of the officers, Mortimer, Lombardo and Carpenter on his right. His dress uniform itched, and he had to fight the temptation to scratch as the music began to play. One of his instructors had once confessed that it was meant to irritate as a test of endurance, and the worst of it was that he wasn't entirely sure that she'd been joking at the time.
They'd cleared the hangar deck for the occasion, most of the crew wanting to attend the wedding, and he'd noticed more than a few people casting rueful glances at their partners. Something in the back of his mind suggested there would be more weddings t
aking place in the near future. While rare in normal service, such ceremonies were not that uncommon on longer cruisers, the natural result of a hundred and fifty people thrown together in confined environments for a year or more. Periodically, there was a long debate in the Senate over the propriety of fraternization, but a rare combination of the psychologists and the ship drivers had always won the day, thus far.
At the head of the room, a beaming Salazar stood at the dais, somehow looking completely comfortable in his full-dress outfit, waiting for the wedding party. The doors at the rear opened, and all eyes turned to see Private Simons, looking dazed, with Corporal Quiller, his best man, half-dragging him towards the front, his ceremonial sword rocking against his leg as they walked.
Then came Spaceman Webster, wearing a resplendent white dress, a beaming Francis on her arm, acting as father of the bride for the ceremony. At the rehearsal, a few of the more musically-inclined members of the crew had played the Wedding March, and the result had been such that taped music had been introduced instead for the actual ceremony at the apologetic request of the groom. As the couple stood next to each other, facing Salazar, the Captain glanced down at his notes, a datapad built into the dais to avoid detection, then looked back up at the crowd.
“Since the days of the earliest voyages through space, all starship commanders have had one joyous privilege. To join two people in the bonds of matrimony. And for that purpose, we are gathered here today to honor the union of Private Andrew Simons and Spaceman Second Class Diane Webster, in the sight of their shipmates, and in accordance the laws and traditions of both the Triplanetary Confederation and the Triplanetary Fleet.”
He glanced to the right, receiving a curt nod of confirmation from Foster, then continued, “In this instance, the couple have elected to write their own oaths for the ceremony,” pausing with a smile, he added, “so if Private Simons is quite ready to begin, we will...”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky Page 3
