“We really are small creatures, aren't we, Corporal,” he said with a sigh.
“That we are, sir. That we air.”
“Fuel at fifteen percent,” he added. “Clearing for landing. Deploy as soon as you hit the deck, tactical envelopment.”
“Rules of engagement, sir?”
“Take down anyone who isn't Clarke. Fire discipline, and if you get a chance to take anyone alive, do it, but don't put yourself at risk to do so. From what I've been told, these bastards were running a slave empire down here. And given that their former prisoners are on the way...”
“Yes, sir,” Quiller said, moving to the rear compartment. “Listen up! We've got a chance to finish this, right now, and we're damned well going to take it. Standard deployment, and let the miserable bastards burn!”
Shaking his head at the ferocity of the squad leader, Salazar concentrated on the landing. Atmospheric flight was nothing new to him, but the artificial gravity field beneath him was strange. The readings might have looked familiar enough, the numbers the same, but the feel of the flight was somehow completely different. Something else for the scientific team to work on, as soon as they could start operating on the surface.
He carefully played the landing thrusters against each other, gently guiding the ship down to the ground, kicking deep ruts into the soil as the landing legs locked into position, sinking into the soft ground as he cut the engines. Reaching over his head, he threw a control, opening both hatches of the airlock together, the smell of fresh, clean air rushing into the cabin, mixed with the usual smoky aftertaste of the landing jets.
Tapping a control to begin the post-flight sequence, he threw off his seat restraints and rose to his feet, reaching to the side for a rifle, as the Espatiers poured out of the shuttle, boots pounding into the ground as they raced for their cover positions. Salazar followed, keeping down low, running for the far side of the thicket at the direction of Quiller. In orbit, he was the Captain, but in the middle of a fire-fight, he knew better than to argue with the senior non-com.
A quick glance at the hill showed the shaft, a narrow gap that rose to the top, shining silver metal covering the entrance. The place had been recently cleared, footprints scattered everywhere in the soft ground. Immediately, the possibilities of the entrance flooded through Salazar's mind, but planning for the future was going to have to wait for a while. With a loud, angry whine, the hatch was sliding open, and the squad ducked into position, ready for the attack.
“Let them get good and clear before taking a shot,” Quiller said. “Everyone take a bead on a single target, and at my order, take them. We'll only get one chance at doing this clean, and they'll spot the shuttle seconds after they emerge. Got it?”
A chorus of nods were the only reply, and Salazar hunkered down, dropping behind a pair of bushes, a strange, soft smell rushing into his lungs. It was a beautiful day for a battle, not a cloud in the sky. Up ahead, a silver column rose from the ground, and a pair of wide doors slid smoothly open, a group of suited figures stepping out. It was easy enough to recognize Clarke, the only man in a Triplanetary uniform.
“Wait for it,” Quiller muttered, but Clarke advanced their timetable, elbowing one of his captors in the chest and racing for cover. The troops waited the barest of seconds for the young officer to get out of the kill zone, then opened up with everything they had, the rattle of gunfire echoing through the hitherto silent glade, bullets ripping into the last remaining group of Hierarchy soldiers.
As the front rank fell, a pair of their enemies tried to escape, racing into the distance, but two bullets ended their final bid for freedom, catching them in the back, sending their bodies sprawling to the ground. Salazar looked over his sights, seeking out any remaining targets, then let his rifle drop as he realized the battle was over, almost before it could begin. He'd fired one shot, and didn't even know if he'd hit anything. Not that it mattered at this stage.
“Cease fire!” Quiller said, unnecessarily. “Medics, forward!”
Pushing himself to his feet, Salazar wiped his muddy hands across the front of his uniform, then walked up to Clarke, who snapped to attention, offering a parade-ground salute as his commanding officer approached.
“Captain Clarke?” Salazar asked.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir,” Clarke replied, his cheeks turning crimson. “I had to come up with something on the fly.”
“By the looks of it, you've had a lot of experience of that.” The two men turned back towards the pit, a silver arrow bursting into the sphere, the second shuttle following up, reinforcements that were now no longer needed. A cloud of dust was rising from the plain, and Salazar could make out a hundred riders racing towards them, rifle- and sword-wielding Neander.
“Sub-Lieutenant,” Salazar said, “At some point we're going to have a conversation about the nature of small-scale recon missions.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir.” Looking up at the far horizon, he added, “What do you think, Captain?”
“I think we're going to be here a while, Sub-Lieutenant,” he replied. His communicator chirped, and he said, “Salazar here. We've secured the landing site.”
“Pavel, it's Kris,” she said. “I've got something. Something big. This is the source of the wormhole builders, I'm sure of it, and I think I know where we can find a map of the network. Pavel, we can find our way home from here.”
“I'll be damned,” Salazar said, a beaming smile on his face. “Damn it, Kris, you really know how to bring a smile to my face. What's the catch?”
“It's ten thousand miles away. Close to somewhere that Sekura calls the Vault of the Builders, or something like that. The translation is chancy. I'm getting Carpenter down here to help run a more precise analysis, but I think we've found what we're looking for.”
“Thanks, Kris,” he said, with a deep, satisfied sigh. “Nice to know we're finally heading towards the end of our journey. I'll be up there as soon as I can get one of the shuttles fueled up.” He turned, looked at the elevator, and said, “What am I thinking. I'll be up there in a few minutes.”
“I'll have someone waiting for you at the other end. See you in a minute. Out.”
“Did I hear that right, sir?” Clarke said, as the second shuttle dropped to the ground. “A ten thousand mile flight?”
“You did,” Salazar said, raising an eyebrow. “I take it this is your subtle way of volunteering for the mission?”
“Well, I am Security Officer, sir, and...”
Raising a hand, he replied, “Just try not to start a war this time.”
“I'll do my best, sir.”
Epilogue
The last week had been a frenzy of activity on the formerly-peaceful grassy hill. A trio of shuttles now rested on a hastily-constructed landing pad, a dozen scattered prefabricated structures scattered around, dormitories and laboratories for Alamo's ground force. Almost the entire science team were on the surface, only the astrophysics department remaining on the battered battlecruiser, eagerly firing probe after probe at the quantum singularity, still working to unlock the secrets of the universe.
Aside from Alamo's team, a growing population of Neander had settled into the camp, eager partners in their exploration of the sphere, working with the ever-increasing array of scientific equipment constantly sweeping the area. Over to the south, a buggy roared, carrying a survey team on a mission to one of the distant ruins, a hundred miles away, three Alamo crewmen and three Neander visiting the shattered remnants of their fallen civilization.
Clarke walked towards the modified flyer, running his hand over the smooth metal, then peered into the cockpit at Mortimer, already nestled into the co-pilot's seat. Rubbing his hands down his uniform jacket, smearing mud on the fabric, Salazar walked over towards them, datapad in hand, a limping Harper by his side, propped up on a crutch.
“Your missio
n plan, the final draft,” he said, passing Clarke the datapad. “Nothing much has changed since the last version, but there are a couple of other targets we'd like you to take a look at on your flight back. No landing, just a lower pass over some of the more distant ruins. It's optional, so if you're low on fuel, don't worry about it. We can always go up again when you get back.”
“We'll do what we can, sir,” Clarke replied, sliding the datapad into his pocket. He looked across at the flyer, and said, “We're ready to go. She's a beautiful ship.”
Nodding, Salazar replied, “I can't help but be a little envious, Sub-Lieutenant. I'd love to take that bird up myself. So bring it back in one piece, because I'm getting the second flight for myself.”
“Don't take any risks,” Harper said. “Keep at a good altitude, and watch your course and speed. And don't forget that you are a long way from any help. We won't have the second ship ready for at least a week.”
“We've got supplies to last that long,” Clarke replied. “If anything happens, we'll find somewhere to land, light our beacon, and wait for you to get us. Assuming we lose radio contact.”
“Which you can take as a given, at that range,” Salazar said with a frustrated sigh. “Until we get the long-range antenna complex set up, we won't be able to break through the chatter. There are just too damned many people having conversations out there, and all of our frequencies are swamped. And probably a thousand times as many tight-beam transmissions.”
“One more thing,” Harper said. “A few of the local Neander have gone out that way. I've put all of their accounts on the datapad. They're more like fireside stories than useful geography, but you might be able to puzzle something out of it, with a little luck.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Clarke replied. “How's the leg?”
“Hurts like hell. Though it's worked out well for you. If I was in one piece, I'd be flying that bird myself.” Clapping him on the shoulder, she added, “Watch yourself.”
As Clarke climbed into the cockpit, Salazar spotted something familiar hanging on the wall, and asked, “That isn't your sword, is it?”
“Sekura asked me to take it with me, sir. Something about taking it to meet the ancestors of his people. Besides, it would feel strange not having it along.”
Shaking his head, Salazar pulled the hatch closed, and said, “Good luck, kid. Have a beautiful ride.”
“Will do, sir,” he replied. “Will do.” As the launch crew dispersed, he reached down to the engine controls, turned to Mortimer, and asked, “You ready?”
“No, but that's never stopped you before.”
“You know you wouldn't miss this for the world.”
“True.”
The engine roared into life, twin propellers rotating, a low-tech solution to the exploration of a hyper-tech world, and the flyer skidded down the makeshift runway, hundred-feet wings dipping, the solar panels shining in the sunlight as it reached takeoff velocity, soaring into the air. Clarke looked across at Mortimer, a beaming smile on his face, as the flyer soared to its cruising altitude, thirty thousand feet above the surface, untold thousands of miles of terrain opening out before them.
Up ahead, almost lost in the distance, he could see the beginnings of a wide desert, at least thirty thousand miles long and three thousand miles wide. Their destination, at present nothing more than a pinpoint location on a map, was on the far side, twenty-four hours away at their hoped-for velocity. He looked down at the battery pack, nodding in satisfaction. The panels would keep them flying in sunlight, the battery enough to keep them in the air while the shadows skimmed overhead.
“How's she handling?” Mortimer asked.
“Smooth as silk,” he replied. “I'll take the first shift. You can take over in three hours. Pass me some coffee, will you?”
Reaching for the flask, she said, “Not going to last the trip out if you drink it that quickly.”
“You'd rather I fell asleep?” he replied.
She looked at him, and asked, “Any more nightmares?”
“No, ma'am,” he replied.
“That's more like it.” She paused, then continued, “You were right, you know.”
“About what?”
She passed him the coffee, and said, “This is what I signed up for. I guess I just never realized that I could ever get it. Look at it, John. Just look at it.”
“I know,” he replied with a smile. “Let's see what's out there.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Silently, the lone figure stood at the fringes of the desert, the sands giving way to scrappy scrub-land, desperate plants struggling to survive in the arid environment. She looked up at the eternal horizon, taking a hot, dry breath, and walked on, her footsteps an endless trail behind her, as far back as she could see. Any thought of pursuit was gone. She was alone, a wanderer through eternity, walking towards a horizon that she could never reach.
Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a faint noise, one that recalled distant memories, buried deep in her subconscious. The low, murmuring hum of a motor, high in the sky. Fumbling in her pouch, she retrieved her goggles, snapping them in position, red lights warning that she didn't have enough power in the batteries to run them for long. With luck, she wouldn't have to.
Throwing the controls to maximum magnification, she swept the sky for the object she was searching for, finally spotting it at extreme range. Some sort of flyer, heading her way, doubtless seeking the same objective that she had spent months trying to reach. A smile crossed her cracked lips, and she quickly plotted the course in her head.
Then, a second object appeared in her field of vision, a projectile racing towards the flyer at high speed. The pilot was good, dodging back and forth, but the warhead was homing on its target, and the end was inevitable, a flickering explosion that took out the rear of the craft, a column of smoke trailing across the sky. The craft was coming down, and close to her.
She tracked the flyer down to the ground, a spot less than five miles from her position, and raced into the desert, taking a quick swig from her canteen to fuel her chase, her pouch slamming against her side as she ran. Tugging off her goggles, she sped to the column of smoke still rising into the sky, her paranoia working on overtime again, knowing that the unlucky pilot had given her pursuers a clear beacon to follow. She'd get there first, have a head-start, but she was going to have to use it to the full if she was going to save all of their lives.
Onward she sped, rising over the crest of a high dune to get a good look at the crash site. Her admiration for the pilot ratcheted up another notch as she saw the landing, the flyer almost in one piece, a trail of scattered debris behind it. It had skidded across the sand for the better part of a mile, but she could just make out a figure moving in the debris, limping on one leg, trying to set up a signal rocket.
She sprinted down the hill, waving her hands, using her voice for the first time in weeks to shout barely-remembered greetings. A second figure emerged from the ruins of the flyer, rifle in hand, raising it to cover her as she approached, but the first figure shook his head, pushing the barrel down towards the ground.
Closing on them, she recognized their clothes, the uniform of the Triplanetary Fleet. The same uniform that she was wearing, though hers had long since been reduced to little more than tattered remnants. Taking the final paces towards the pair, she stopped, silently looking at them, struggling to think of what to say. It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone, she'd almost forgotten how.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, rifle still in hand. “Did you launch that damned missile?”
“Fleet uniform,” the man said, eyes wide. “We've found a survivor.” Stepping forward, he held out his hand, and said, “Sub-Lieutenant John Clarke, Security Officer of the Battlecruiser Alamo. This is Sub-Lieutenant Veronica Mortimer.”
“Alamo?” she said, half-whispered, clutching the offe
red hand. “Alamo?” Taking a deep breath, she said, “My name is Margaret Orlova. And my God, I am pleased to see you.”
Thank you for reading 'Shadows in the Sky'. For information on future releases, please join the Battlecruiser Alamo Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.
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The saga returns in Battlecruiser Alamo: Secrets of the Sphere, available soon…
Table of Contents
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky Page 22
