Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky

by Richard Tongue

   “Major Moran?” Salazar said, extending his hand. “Welcome to Alamo.”

   “A pleasure,” she replied, shaking the offered hand. “My I introduce my Staff Engineer, Lieutenant Hanson.”

   “Senior Lieutenant Max Francis, my Executive Officer,” Salazar said. “And Lieutenant Kristen Harper, Intelligence Officer. It's a pleasure to greet you.”

   Raising an eyebrow, she replied, “You're certain that it wasn't a pain in the neck, Captain?”

   He smiled, and said, “Diplomacy forbids an answer, Major.” Gesturing at a side door, he said, “Perhaps our conversation would best be held in private.”

   Nodding, she said, “So that none of your deep, dark secrets risk being exposed. Or more accurately, your technological advantage. I'm no fool, Captain, and I know the comparative strengths of our two ships. I know that you could wipe us out, but I also believe that you wouldn't unless you had a good reason to. Or you'd have attacked as soon as we entered the system.”

   “I never did believe in shooting first and asking questions later,” he replied, stepping into the hastily-cleaned office of Lieutenant Lombardo, additional chairs scattered across the room. “My Deck Officer's office, but guaranteed as secure.”

   Taking one of the seats, Moran said, “Forgive me, Captain, but you seem awfully young for your rank.”

   “Flattery will get you everywhere, Major. We Salazars have never shown our age.”

   “I envy you.” Looking at Hanson, she added, “Perhaps we should get more rapidly to the point. We have people down on the surface, and a ship that has gone missing. So do you. I propose that we work together to rescue them, and share any information that we gather in the process.”

   “Don't take this the wrong way,” Francis said, “but wouldn't we be at a disadvantage in such an exchange?”

   “Not when you consider that we've been investigating the sphere for half a century, ever since our original founders arrived from the Milky Way galaxy. I'm guessing you found the wormhole as well, rather more recently.” At the shocked expressions of Salazar and Francis, and the wry grin from Harper, she continued, “Come on, I wasn't born yesterday. If some Triplanetary Confederation existed anywhere within easy reach, I'd know about it. I've been riding starships for twenty years, and we've never found any sign of another human empire out there. A few scattered, non-starfaring colonies, but that's about all. You've come straight from home.”

   “Meaning that you're going to need friends out here, soon enough,” Hanson said, his tone guttural, low. “We might be in a position to provide you with some.”

   “That sounded suspiciously like a threat,” Francis replied. “Perhaps I might arrange a demonstration of our laser cannon? We're not up to the level of the builders of that sphere out there, but we're more than capable of ripping through hull armor with dispatch.”

   “That will not be necessary,” Moran said, silencing Hanson with a glare. “Let me guess what happened. You sent a team down, found a control panel, and opened the hatch. Then that team, or another, went inside, and after a while, the hatch closed once again. How am I doing?”

   “Pretty good,” Harper said. “Tell me how the story ends?”

   “We spent years examining this structure, mapping the exterior, and finally found a possible entrance. One of our ships, carrying a hand-picked team, came out here five months ago to conduct an investigation, to finally enter the sphere. They were overdue two months ago, and we came out here to take a look.”

   “If this place is of that much importance to you, why not commit more resources to it?”

   “This can be a dangerous system to loiter in, Captain. As Monitor has undoubtedly found out. Sometimes the Collectors can be less than discriminatory about what they harvest for the station. I presume you've seen the debris stream?”

   “And one of the systems they're tearing apart.”

   “Another one?” she replied, looking at Hanson. “There are a lot of systems around here with no hendecaspace points, and evidence that they did have planets at some time in the past. We actually saw one being destroyed, a few years ago, but that's as far as it got.” She looked at the viewport in the office, at the mass of the sphere close by, and said, “We're both looking at the handiwork of the Gods, Captain, or we might as well be. And we'll both be trying to crack open the sphere, and it seems crazy not to do it together.”

   Nodding, Salazar replied, “Put that way, I suppose I can see your point. Very well. Max, you can liaise with your opposite number on Endurance and work out the details.”

   “Excellent,” Moran said, rising from her chair. “I'll have a technical crew join your team by the portal at once. Given that I've got a long walk back to my ship, I'd better be leaving at once.” She pulled out an old-fashioned datarod, and said, “The state of the galaxy. At least, that part of it we've explored. To get our information exchange off to a good start.”

   “I'll have my Science Officer reciprocate at once,” Salazar replied. “Safe journey.” As she walked out of the room, he looked at Harper, and said, “That was far too easy.”

   “Not much of a trap if we're suspicious already,” Francis said.

   “Doesn't matter whether or not we're suspicious. It only matters if we get caught. Watch them, Kris. Like a hawk.”

   “Don't worry,” she replied. “I was planning to.”

  Chapter 10

   Clarke was back in the alien ship once more, racing through the corridors, his feet sluggish and slow. Somehow, the walls had become tangled trees, their branches reaching out to grab him, scratching long gashes down his arms as he desperately ran for safety. Everything seemed so heavy, each stop an effort he could no longer bear. He turned, and saw the creature again, the beast with his face, razor claws in the air. With a last effort, he tried to escape, but the tendril-like branches snatched at him, sending him sprawling to the muddy ground, and he felt the beast slashing down at him, ripping into him.

   A hand clamped over his mouth, and his eyes snapped open, looking up at the face of Mortimer looming over him. The others were still asleep, each in their corner of the swinging cell. Her eyes narrowed, and she released her hand, letting him take a deep breath of the rich, forest air, laden with exotic scents that invigorated him, soothed him.

   “Don't do that again,” she replied. “Another nightmare?”

   “Yes,” he said.

   “You should have brought some of those pills with you. Then we might all have got a good night's sleep.” With a sigh, she said, “The same as before?”

   “Different, somehow. It was almost as though I wanted the beast to get me. Maybe I'm more screwed up than I thought.”

   “We're all screwed up, kid. Something you'll learn when you get a little older.” She looked around, scanning the darkness, and said, “No sign of Maqua yet. If I'm right, we've got a couple of hours to go until whatever passes for dawn in here. I suppose we haven't ruled out that this is some sort of trap. I mean, just because someone claims to be a Triplanetary officer doesn't make it so.”

   Shaking his head, Clarke replied, “Garland recognized him, and besides, he knew too many details of Monitor's mission. I suppose they could have interrogated someone else, but if they know that much, they hardly seem to need us.” Rubbing a hand across his sweat-laden forehead, he added, “Anything else to report?”

   “Nothing much. One guard walking back and forth on the gantry, armed with a rifle. I guess they don't think they need anything else.” She gestured at the central trunk, and added, “I spot three ways down the side, none of them especially safe. I don't know who came up with the idea of building a city in the trees, but it's crazy.”

   “If you'd rather, Sub-Lieutenant,” Maqua said, “We could always leave you behind.” He crept along the gantry, knife in hand, and continued, “I'm sorry I took so long. Getting through the security was harder than I'd expected, and I had to make sure that I wa
sn't being followed. We're safe, at least for the moment.”

   Mortimer prodded Garland and Fox, then said, “What's the plan?”

   “I cut you free, we kill the guard as quietly as we can, then climb down the tree and run for cover.”

   “That's it?”

   “I figured it was smart to keep it simple. We're not going to get too far before dawn, though. Not out of the forest, anyway. The plain beyond is wide open, and they'd be able to track you down in a heartbeat. We'll have to stay in cover for as long as we can.” The Neander started to saw at some of the vines, cutting through the material. “Get ready to move when I give the word. I'm going to rig this to break completely a few minutes after we get out. We're going to need a distraction.”

   “And if you get it wrong?” Mortimer asked.

   “Then the five of us plunge to a certain, horrible death. Feel better?”

   “Much.” Turning to Clarke, she added, “I don't know why I doubted him. He acts like every Triplanetary officer I've ever met.”

   “Well, they give good courses in sarcasm at Advanced Tactical. Required part of the course.” He continued to work, and the first vine snapped free. “Four more, and I'll have a gap big enough for you to get through.”

   The cage was creaking alarmingly, and seemed to have developed a list to the left. Clarke gestured for Fox to stand underneath the rapidly opening gap, deciding that the close-combat expert had to be out first, and moved to the rear, careful to watch the weight distribution. Mortimer glanced at him, shaking her head.

   “You don't need to be a hero, kid.”

   “Last time I checked, I was in command of this mission team. That means I get the privilege of taking the stupid risks. You want the job, check in with Captain Salazar.”

   “Pavel's commanding Alamo?” Maqua asked. “How did that happen?”

   “Long story, Lieutenant,” Clarke replied. “When we get out of here, I'll brief you.”

   Another vine snapped free, and the Neander said, “One minute. Got to hurry. The guard will be back at any moment.” He continued to work, Fox climbing up, ready to scramble onto the gantry at a second's notice, the third vine releasing with a loud report, enough that the prisoners in the next cell began to stir.

   “What about the others?” Fox asked.

   “Nothing we can do about them for the moment,” Clarke replied. “If we're free, we might be able to help them out. Imprisoned, there's nothing we can do for them.”

   With a sigh, Mortimer replied, “Then I guess we're not heading right back for the exit, then.”

   “If things are as bad around here as they look, then I don't think we have a choice.”

   “Trust me,” Maqua said. “They are.” Finally the last vine broke under the onslaught of the blade, and Fox quickly pulled herself through the gap, emerging onto the gantry, gratefully accepting the knife from the Neander. While the others hastily followed, she stalked into the shadows, heading towards the guard, racing to catch him before he could make the turn.

   It was all over in seconds, without even the faintest noise. Her hand clamped over the man's mouth as her blade sliced into his back, piercing his heart with disturbing accuracy. She gently lowered him to the gantry, rolling his body to the side and reliving him of his pistol, her hands snatching through his pockets to take his ammunition.

   “Primitive, but effective,” she said, holding up her newly-acquired sidearm. “Should do the job nicely enough.”

   “Come on,” Maqua said, pulling out a second knife and slashing at two more vines, weakening them at the top. “We've got to motor if we're going to get out of here. Right down the central tree, then follow me. Don't get out of sight whatever happens, or you'll either be captured or lost beyond recall.” He frowned for a moment, then added, “And watch out for the wolves. There's a reason this place is built high.”

   “Wolves?” Clarke asked, but the Neander was already away, sprinting along the gantry, and he followed him without a second thought, careful to keep down low. Somehow, the place was even more impressive from this view, and he briefly looked around at hundreds of structures built in the tree-tops, illuminated with flickering constellations of green light. Guard towards surrounded the complex, searchlights using the same bio-luminescence washing through the night with bright beams, bouncing back and forth.

   He reached the tree, and made the mistake of looking down, eyes bulging at the descent. The ladder was hacked into the tree, metal posts sticking out in all directions, a frame he could use to scramble to the surface. There was no safety rail, no additional handholds, and oozing sap covered some of the high posts with a slick sheen. Doubtfully, he looked across at Maqua, who shrugged in response.

   “Doesn't get used that often. If you'd rather stay here?”

   “Not a chance. Lead the way.”

   Nodding, Maqua slid onto the improvised ladder, carefully swinging down the posts, and after another moment of fearful contemplation, Clarke followed, testing the first rung with his foot before putting his full weight onto it, a loud crack stopping his heart for a moment before he realized it was coming from the far side of the gantry, their erstwhile cell preparing its own descent to the surface.

   He slipped and slid down the ladder, almost falling when he saw eyes peering out at him from a twisted branch, only belatedly realizing that it was a chipmunk, another import from Earth, tens of thousands of years ago. Then, with a loud crack, their cell finally fell, smashing through the lower branches on its path to the surface, instantly attracting the attention of the searchlights. As his feet mercifully hit the ground, he looked around for Maqua, watching the Neander retreating into the darkness, picking a twisted path through the trees.

   Glancing up at the rest of his people, he followed their new friend into the darkness, wincing every time his feet found a dry branch on the ground. Suddenly, he had a flashback to his nightmare, and he could almost feel the monster at his back. For a heartbeat, he froze, then forced himself on, chasing after Maqua, a chorus of shouts all around as the guards discovered that their captives had escaped. They had a small head-start, and he had to hope that it was enough.

   Shadows chased him through the night, and he turned to catch brief glimpses of Fox, Garland and Mortimer, moving in between the trees as they struggled to keep pace with him, while he struggled to keep pace with Maqua. He glanced up, still surprised not to see the stars above him, just an endless, inky blackness. Somewhere beyond the night were lands beyond measure, but this forest could have been on any one of a dozen worlds. It took very little imagination to place himself back on Earth, an Earth that hadn't truly existed for a century.

   For a split second, he thought that he had lost Maqua, but he caught the fleeing form up ahead, and managed to redouble his pace, dropping down into a deep ravine, tunnels and shafts all around. The Neander had taken one of the nearest, and Clarke followed, dripping water running down the back of his neck as he escaped underground, the tunnels ducking and diving around. The upper levels were natural, eroded, but the lower levels were obviously artificial, hewn into the rock, with strange symbols carved into the walls.

   “This way,” Maqua said, urging them to another ladder, this one dropping into total darkness. Clarke sighed, then followed the Neander down the new shaft, hand over hand. This time, the material was different, harder, the rungs solidly welded to the wall. Up above, what little light there was blurred away as the others followed, until finally he reached the floor, Maqua waiting for him below.

   They were in the mouth of a huge cavern, a few of the green balls scattered around to provide rudimentary illumination, serving more to cast strange shadows around than to provide any useful light. Mortimer dropped down the last few rungs, moving by his side, and looked around with a frown on her face.

   “Creepy.”

   “It's not really intended for the casual visitor,” Maqua replied. “Wait here. I'll be back in
a moment.”

   “I think we'd be better off sticking together,” Clarke said.

   “No,” the Neander said. “Don't worry. The guards won't follow this far. The caves aren't especially safe, and we've made sure that enough of them have paid the price for coming this far down to put them off the idea. We're safe. For the moment, anyway.”

   “I still think...”

   “I hate to break it to you, Sub-Lieutenant, but I outrank you, which means that we're going to do this my way. Understood?”

   “Yes, sir,” Clarke said, glancing at a distrustful Mortimer. “We'll be here.”

   “Good,” Maqua replied, running into the darkness as Garland dropped in beside Mortimer, Fox carefully picking her way down the final rungs of the ladder.

   “Spaceman,” Mortimer asked, “Are you sure that's the man you knew?”

   “Yes, ma'am,” Garland said. “I patched him up often enough. He was a Sub-Lieutenant, commissioned during the Xandari War, just before the recapture of Alamo. I guess Captain Orlova must have given him a field promotion at some point. Monitor was out here long enough.”

   “And you never had any reason to doubt his loyalty?”

   “No, ma'am. Absolutely not.”

   “People can change a lot over time,” Fox mused.

   “Not him. He gave up everything to join the Fleet. I think he'd rather die than betray it.”

   “I hope you're right,” she replied.

   “I wish we had a datapad,” Garland said, looking up at the walls. “Those look familiar. Like some of the relics I've seen back home. Back in the Milky Way.” He frowned, then said, “Still seems strange, even now.”

   “Sir,” Fox said, “I'm less sanguine than Lieutenant Maqua about our safety. In my experience, threats of unknown horrors are less terrifying than the threats of a good non-com.” She raised her pistol, then said, “I'd like to go back up the to cave, keep look-out.”