“Captain Kid?” she asked with a sigh. “Keep in contact, and listen out for Alamo. Pavel's promised us reinforcements, and they'll need to know where to run.”
“Will do, ma'am. Good luck.”
“And to you.”
“Lieutenant,” Sekura said, running his gloved hand along the wall. “I think I might have found something. This was not the only column built for this purpose.”
Harper turned to look at the pictograms, and replied, “I suppose that's logical enough. Theory of mediocrity, especially on something as big as this.” With mounting excitement, she added, “Can you find the location of the other device?”
“I think so,” he said. “Some of these pictograms are of familiar locations, sites I visited on my quest to the Vault. It was many years ago, but those memories will be fresh forever.” Pointing at an image, he said, “The Shattered Lands, there, and the Endless Desert. The Graveyard of Dreams.”
“Sounds lovely. A real tourist spot.”
“It's a chart, a map, Lieutenant. One that we can follow.” His eyes lit up, and he continued, “There will be other locations, as well. Given a little time, I can give you a hundred places to search, thousands of secrets to find. The column might have been destroyed, but my ancestors have given us guidance to seek out others.”
Looking at a strange symbol, a spiral with an arrow diving from it, she asked, “What's that?”
“I've never seen it before, but if I had to guess, I would say that it was a wormhole.”
Frowning, she replied, “How does a village shaman know...”
“The legends of my people are, in some circumstances, surprisingly specific. We were not always savages, you understand. Civilization might have been beaten for a while, but we will walk the stars ourselves again one day. Perhaps sooner than you think.”
She looked up at the images again, and asked, “How much did you know of this place, before you came up here?”
“Once our wise men fell into the dark depths of the sphere, and donned their armor to quest for knowledge, and uncover the secret clock of chaos and death. But once acquired, they were doomed, doomed on an endless quest, for they forgot that to gain knowledge without wisdom is to immerse yourself in a flame hotter than the sun.”
“Based on that, I'm surprised you volunteered.”
“Oh, but it is heroic, Lieutenant. I think it simply loses something in translation.”
“And how do you speak English, any way?”
“It is the language of the Hill Tribes. A trading tongue in this region. And of course, our Hegemonic captors spoke it. We had recent reason to gain fluency.”
A screen flickered on, and Harper moved over to the console, tapping the controls once again. “I think I can get a shot of the battle, link up to Alamo's sensor network. If we can't help, at least we can get a front row seat for their victory.”
“Or defeat.”
“Pessimist.”
Chapter 24
“That's more like it!” Salazar said, as the sensor display flickered into life. Scott was throwing controls, extending Alamo's wing-like radiators and feeding power to the laser cannon, bringing the combat systems on-line. “Carpenter, full status report, if you please.”
“Roanoke has been badly hurt, Captain,” she said, “Nine detectable impacts, and she's listing badly to the side. Thruster failures, and only accelerating at half power. She'll be lucky to stay clear of the surface unless she can make repairs in a hurry. Darlan is in better condition, three impacts, none of them critical, and she's bearing directly.”
“Anything from Endurance?” he asked, turning to the communications station.
“Nothing, sir, but she's sustained several hits to her antenna complex. They might not even be hearing us, still less be able to respond,” Bowman replied.
“I'm picking up unfamiliar shuttles attached to the outer hull in three locations,” Ballard added. “I think your guess about the enemy boarding action was right, sir. Looks like there's a firefight in progress.”
“Try and push through to Ensign Rhodes,” Salazar ordered. “We've got to get some sort of a status report. Find out how much control of Endurance they have.”
“Her mass drivers are still firing, sir, but she's ranging at Roanoke, not Darlan.”
“Which could mean her sensors are damaged as well,” Carpenter said. “She's taken a lot of critical hits, sir. I don't think she'll be in a fit state for battle for quite a while.”
“Hopefully, that won't be a problem for much longer,” Salazar said. “Fighter status?”
“Red Flight launched its attack on Roanoke, Green Flight being held in reserve.”
Nodding, Salazar looked back at the screen. The battle had been closer to his projected plan than he had feared, but there were still wild variances, the computers struggling to update their simulations to match the recently revealed reality. Roanoke and Endurance had essentially canceled each other out in the battle, and much as it pained him to admit it, rescuing their ally had become less important. If it looked as though they were going to lose that fight, one laser blast would end them as a potential threat.
Frowning, he turned back to Carpenter, and said, “Have Midshipman Petrova round up half a dozen crewmen, grab any spare plasma armament, and send them down to the surface on Transfer Four. They ought to be able to make it down if they're careful to stay well clear of the deep shaft. One quick, easy burn.”
“Ordinary crewmen?”
“There's nothing ordinary about Alamo crewmen, Lieutenant, and our Espatiers are looking rather busy at the moment. Scott, how long before we get the laser charged up?”
“Forty-five seconds, sir, and I'm switching all of our warheads back to salvo control.”
“Then, Helm, hard about, and place us on a direct intercept course with Darlan. Take us as close as you can. And watch out for those mass drivers. As soon as they realize what we're doing, they'll throw everything they've got in our direction.”
“Aye, sir,” Quesada said with a smile. “Bringing her around. Intercept will be in two minutes, five seconds, minus, Captain. I'm still having trouble with the lateral thrusters, but damage control seems to be getting the atmospheric leaks under control.”
“Anything from engineering, Fitzroy?”
“You'd court-martial me if I repeated it, skipper,” the veteran engineer replied.
“I think Chief Santiago is cross with you,” Carpenter said with a wry grin.
“Let's see if we can find a way to brighten her day. Fire at will, Scott, missiles and lasers, and instruct Green Flight to attack in support. A few missile strikes should turn this whole battle around. See if you can get pinpoint control back, and take a look at Roanoke. If it worked once, it'll work twice.”
“Aye, Captain,” Scott said. “Locking on weapons and engine systems, salvo launching.”
This time, as the missiles raced towards their distant target, Salazar could track them in real-time, no longer reliant on computer projections as they dived for Darlan. Alamo swung around, altering her course to bring her close to the enemy craft, ready to flash past only a few miles distant. Seconds later, the laser fired, a beam of light pumping energy across cold space to the enemy ship, ripping a savage tear down the side of its hull, tossing the ship around from air release.
It almost felt as though Alamo herself was taking revenge for the blows struck earlier, her fighters swinging in from the side on a parallel course, moving slowly ahead as they prepared to launch their attack. A salvo of kinetic projectiles raced from the enemy ship, but this time Quesada could spot every detail of the engagement, was easily able to swing out of the way, allowing them to harmlessly fly past.
“Signal from Endurance!” Bowman said. “Corporal Quiller reports that they have retaken the bridge, and now have attitude control. Requests instructions.”
�
�All turrets are to continue to target Roanoke. Pound it to pieces. We can handle Darlan as long as nothing else changes.”
“Sir,” Carpenter said, “Transfer Four is ready to launch.”
Tapping a control, Salazar said, “Bridge to Transfer Four. Good luck and good hunting.”
“Thank you, sir,” Petrova replied. “Initiating launch sequence.”
Shaking her head, Scott said, “Darlan's badly hurt, sir.”
“Maintain firing rate, Lieutenant,” Salazar replied. “We've got to finish them now. For all we know, a second jamming field could snap on at any moment.”
“Energy spike!” Ballard said. “Power surge!”
“Evasive, Quesada!” Salazar ordered, and Alamo dived to the side, dancing under the helmsman's control, swinging nimbly around once again, easily dodging Darlan's laser beam. Alamo swept onward like an avenging angel, unleashing a second wave of destruction on the enemy target, just as the first salvo was striking home, eight shots neatly lined up on the port side of the ship, punctures that spewed air as the hull armor ripped apart.
“Hail them again, Bowman,” Salazar said. “Let's see if they're any more interested in surrendering after that hellstorm.”
“No contact, sir,” the technician replied, a moment later. “No signal at all.”
“Could be that they're too badly damaged,” Carpenter suggested. “Look at the side of their hull. Do you want to abort the second salvo?”
“No,” Salazar said. “If they get clear of the system, they'll be back with reinforcements, and I think we're going to be here a while. Any word on the hendecaspace drive, Fitzroy?”
“Tangled mess, sir. Repairs possible, but it's going to take a while.”
“That's about what I was afraid of,” Salazar replied. “Fire second pulse, Kat, as soon as you can. Let's finish them off.”
“Roanoke's gone, sir!” Ballard yelled, gesturing up at her monitor. “Three impacts from Endurance, right into her mid-section. She's torn to pieces, Captain.” Glancing across at a second display, she added, “Some escape pods, sir, but I'm not sure whether or not they'll get out of the blast wave.”
“Launch SAR shuttle to retrieve prisoners,” Salazar said.
“Firing laser, sir,” Scott said, a second pulse of energy slamming into Darlan, this time forward, running close to its nose, more gas escaping from ruptured bulkheads, shards of molten hull armor flying in all directions. Alamo's radiators briefly glowed white-hot, rapidly cooling as Scott prepared for a third shot that they hoped would not be necessary.
“Second salvo impacting in ten seconds, sir,” Scott reported.
“That should just about finish them off, Captain,” Carpenter added. “Green Flight launching now. Though I suspect that they won't have much to target.” Her voice was rueful, and she was looking everywhere other than the tactical display.
“Lieutenant, I don't like killing ships any more than you do, but they're the ones who chose battle. We're just finishing the fight that they started. And given what we've learned about the Hegemony, I don't think we need to worry too much about the ethics of warfare today.”
“Impact!” Scott said, and the crew watched Darlan die, an explosion ripping through the decks, shredding the ship to fragments, a swarming cluster of debris from which there could be no escape. The three fighters of Green Flight swooped past, flying a smooth arc on their return to Alamo, the bridge silent, watching.
Salazar looked around, then said, “This fight isn't over yet, people. I want all of our birds back on board on the double, rearmed and prepared for a strike mission. Quesada, take us towards Endurance, matching course and speed as best you can. Scott, I want a firing solution on Endurance with the cannon, set to miss by two miles. I want everyone on board to know what's happening.”
“Will do, sir,” Scott said, nodding in confirmation. “Going to be a minute and a half before we can fire again. I pushed it a little with the radiators to take that second shot.”
“Understood. Just make the magic happen,” he replied.
“On it,” she said.
“Ballard, contact Endurance. I want to speak to Ensign Rhodes if you can get him.”
After a moment, the technician looked up, and said, “Contact established, sir.”
“What's the story, Frank?” Salazar asked.
The rattle of gunfire echoed in the background as Rhodes replied, “Not good, Captain. We're under heavy fire, and we're in danger of losing the bridge again. I'm afraid our idea of simulating a mutiny worked a little too well. They must have had some sleeper agents on board already, and they managed to take five decks before we could rally. I prioritized weapons control, but there's not much more I can do. We're taking heavy casualties, and short of wrecking the ship, I think we're going to lose her.”
Nodding, Salazar said, “Get out of there, Frank, and take everyone with you worth saving.”
“Sir,” Scott replied, “There's got to be something we can do to save Endurance.”
“That ship will be able to leave the system in three days, and unlike Alamo, she has a working hendecaspace drive. I know exactly what whoever is commanding that attack force is planning, and I have no intention of allowing them to proceed.” He paused, then said, “There are still a few options left on the table. Quesada, can we intercept?”
“Four minutes, Captain, but we'll only have time for a single salvo and one shot from the cannon. And after that, the best rendezvous time is hours away. Someone's coaxed extra acceleration out of that beast, and they're heading away on a wild vector.” His eyes widened, and he said, “I think they're trying for a slingshot around the black hole.”
“Brave,” Scott replied.
“Crazy,” Quesada said. “With their attitude thrusters damaged, they'll struggle to get onto the right trajectory, and have an even harder time staying on it.”
“Ballard,” Salazar asked, “Can you patch me through to every working speaker on Endurance? The whole ship?”
“I think so, sir, but they've sustained a lot of damage to their interior communications network.”
“Do what you can.”
After a moment, she replied, “You're on, sir.”
“This is Lieutenant-Captain Pavel Salazar of the Battlecruiser Alamo. You are on a doomed course, and I have the full power of our weapons system locked on to you. There is no way that you are going to escape from this system. I instruct you to immediately surrender, proceed to the escape pods, and abandon ship. I will guarantee your safety if you choose to follow this course of action. Otherwise, I guarantee your destruction.”
He looked up at the trajectory plot, and said, “Alamo will be in range in four minutes. I will be destroying Endurance then. I suggest you are somewhere else when that happens. Salazar out.”
“Is this necessary?” Carpenter asked.
“We're not going to have a second chance at this, Lieutenant, and Endurance is barely holding together now. Fitzroy, can you give us an engineering assessment?”
“Shipyard job, sir, and not an easy one at that. If we were hope, they'd probably end up junking her. Cheaper and easier to start from scratch. She's certainly lived up to her name, though.”
“No argument there, Spaceman. Ballard, report.”
“Picking up three shuttles departing Endurance, sir, and multiple escape pods. Nineteen members of our Espatier platoon have checked in, but Ensign Rhodes and Senior Lieutenant Francis have yet to do so. Reports had them deep inside the ship, sir. They might not be able to reach the escape pods before we launch our attack.”
“We could double back with the fighters,” Carpenter suggested. “Buy ourselves some more time.”
“And give the traitors a chance to get the mass drivers working again,” Salazar replied. “Kat, commit to the attack. Full spread, laser as well.”
“Ensign Rhodes…,” Car
penter protested, before Salazar interrupted.
“Lieutenant, I've known Frank Rhodes a damned sight longer than you, long enough to know that if he was sitting in this chair, he'd give the same order as I am for the same reasons. Either get used to the idea or leave the bridge.”
Carpenter nodded, then looked down at her station, her face pale, saying, “All fighters preparing landing sequence now, sir. We should have Red Flight home in two minutes, Green Flight three minutes later. SAR has retrieved four escape pods, eleven crewmen in total, all wounded. Doctor Strickland is able to accept casualties for triage in Storage One.”
“Thank you, Susan,” Salazar said, struggling to retain his cool. He was as concerned about Rhodes and Francis as the rest of them. Both men were people he called friends, and he'd fought alongside Rhodes all through the Xandari War. He'd served on Salazar's first command. That didn't, couldn't change anything. For the sake of Alamo and the people who were still flooding out of Endurance, he didn't dare take the risk.
“One minute, thirty seconds, sir,” Scott said.
“No direct reply from the mutineers, sir. Lots of beacons checking in, and we're still getting escape pod launches,” Bowman said.
“Rhodes and Francis?”
“Nothing, sir.”
With a sigh, Salazar said, “Lieutenant Scott, destroy Endurance at your discretion.”
“Aye, Captain,” Scott replied, her face ashen. She'd known Rhodes as long as Salazar had.
Remorselessly, Alamo continued on course, racing towards the dying ship, trajectory plots scattering in all directions as escape pods and shuttles flew to safety, carrying a precious cargo of crew with it. A stream of medical reports raced across the screen, almost too quick to read. Sickbay was going to be overcrowded for some time to come.
“Ten seconds, sir,” Scott said. “Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Firing.”
Her finger lightly tapped a control, and Alamo's laser cannon discharged once again, neatly slicing Endurance in twain. She glanced back at Salazar, who shook his head. There had been no need for the missile salvo.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky Page 20
