“Probably not. Where do you want to start?”
Looking around, he said, “Let's go around the perimeter, see if there is anything unusual. Someone must come outside occasionally, even if it's only for maintenance.”
“That isn't going to take very long,” she said, heading over to the nearest dome. By all appearances, it was the same as a hundred similar structures on Mars, left over from the original settlement of the planet, but the idea of one being planted on a world that looked so much like Earth was strange. A faint plume of steam rose into the air from the recycling system, working at full power.
Along the ground, a rough track followed the perimeter of the base, marks of boot prints where technicians had repaired damage, patches on the wall where gaps had been fixed in place, some of them more permanently than others. Cooper peered at one of them, shaking his head. Still airtight, still sealed, though if anything the air outside was purer than the atmosphere inside the transport had been.
Clearing the dome, they came to the communications mast, towering over the terrain, the metal beginning to rust from age, the cables bundled together as though huddling for protection against the environment. Splatters of water began to drop on his head, and Cooper smiled. It was beginning to rain.
“Three times I've walked on a world with air, and each one different. This is the best.”
Cantrell shook her head, and said, “What's the point?” Cantrell asked. “If they are so starved of resources, why not ship all of this up to Skybase where they can make proper use of it?”
“Psychological barriers can be the hardest to break through, I guess,” he replied. A second, smaller dome connected to the other one, this one with tubes heading down into the ground, piles of abandoned digging equipment left outside, stripped down to their framework for tools and components, scavenged as efficiently as everything else in this system.
Looking out across the horizon, Cooper could just make out green beyond this wasteland. Placing this dome here had been a deliberate decision, keeping it away from the temptations of the environment beyond. In the far distance, mountains glistened invitingly, snow-topped peaks seeming to beckon them forward. He stood and watched, tiny dots as birds darted about the sky, driven around by the wind.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Just beautiful.”
Cantrell had wandered off, and she called over, “Come here. I've found something!” He raced over, and looked down at the ground to see a series of deep, rutted tracks, heading off into the distance, running back to the wall of the dome. He stepped over, and nodded. A vehicular airlock, set right into the wall.
“Well-used,” Cantrell said, moving over to the controls. “UN design. I can hack it if you want.”
“Go ahead,” he said, drawing his pistol. “If they're watching us, they already know that we've uncovered their little secret.”
With a low rumble, the doors opened, revealing a trio of buggies, all of them outfitted with pressurized cabins, ready for use. Their wheels were caked in fresh mud, brown splatters across their bodies. Stepping up to the nearest, Cooper peered into the cabin, the remains of a half-eaten meal resting on the seat.
“That answers that,” Cantrell said. “They've been used in the last few days. Maybe this morning.” She looked down at her datapad, and said, “That track heads towards a forested area, twenty, twenty-five miles away. Our probes picked up a couple of heat signatures from that region that might have been campfires.”
His communicator chirped, and he pulled it out, glancing at the time, “Wow. We've been out here twenty minutes.” Flicking the channel, he said, “Cooper here. Go ahead.”
“Hunt here, sir,” the Corporal replied. “We've just about finished the tour. It didn't take long. Frankly, I got the impression they were rushing us through, but I don't think we missed any part of the base. The normal complement of the base is about a dozen people, sir. Inside, well, you've been to the museum at Gagaringrad?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what this looks like, sir. Normal dome, pretty old, but all UN issue. Well past its service life, but they're maintaining it well. There's something strange, though.”
“What?”
“The one area they've built up is the medical unit. There are beds for a couple of dozen people, and by the looks of it, used frequently. Private Rhodes noticed that the medical waste bins were all full, and there was a lot more equipment there than in the rest of the base. Aside from that, sir, I don't really have anything special to report. Except that I got the impression that they take a lot more care of this base than the other sites we've seen. Even Skybase.”
“Thanks, Corporal. Where are they taking you next?”
“To the mess for a meal, sir. I've instructed that we will stick with our own rations, and I've had Specialist Gidzenko test the water. When are you coming back in, sir?”
“I'm not sure, Corporal. We might be out here for a while. Don't let them outnumber you, and maintain constant contact with Alamo. I'll call you when I can. Cooper out.”
“I know what you are thinking,” Cantrell said, as he put his communicator away.
With a shrug, he said, “They must know that we've found this place by now. Let's face it, their secret was out as soon as we stepped outside the hatch.”
“Quite right,” Naxos said, walking into the garage, a pistol in his hand, wearing a pressure suit. “You are currently in a restricted area, and I'm going to have to ask you to return to the base at once. We don't want a diplomatic incident, do we?”
Cooper covered Naxos with his pistol, and replied, “What exactly are you afraid we'll find out there? Or do you even know?”
“I know that I am under orders that you should not leave the base. After all, there is a peace conference on, and we wouldn't want anything to jeopardize it, would we? Now shall we go back inside, or I am going to have to do something that we'll all regret?”
The engine roared on the nearest buggy, and Naxos turned with a start, giving Cooper a chance to dive towards him, drawing his combat knife and ripping a hole in his suit. The guard looked down, panicked, struggling out of Cooper's grasp, but the trooper had him pinned too tightly, and Cantrell stepped calmly over, picking up the guard's discarded pistol, leveling it at his head.
“Your work?” Cooper asked.
Waving her datapad in the air, she said, “Wonderful how many systems can be operated remotely. They never even bothered updating the operating software. Clumsy.”
“Let me go!” Naxos yelled. “My suit!”
Cantrell reached down, pulling off the guard's helmet and tossing it away. For a second, he held his breath, before finally, reluctantly, opening his mouth. He looked at Cooper with venom in his eyes.
“When I report this...”
“Good point,” Cooper said, pulling out his communicator. “Cooper to Hunt. Send someone out here on the double, will you? I need a babysitter.”
“Aye, sir,” he replied. “Private Danus will be along in a minute.”
“No hurry,” he said, looking down at the guard. “We're going to be leaving you here with one of our friends, and you are going to behave. Is that understood? No-one's going to be sending any messages anywhere until we've finished our investigation, and found out just what it is that the Council is trying to keep secret.”
“You're going out there?” he said, shaking his head. “We don't leave in less than platoon strength. There are savages out there in the forests, you fool. Barbarian beasts who eat people alive, and will gladly slice your throat and laugh as you die.” Looking at Cantrell, he said, “Take my word for it. Go out there alone, and you won't come back.”
“That's our problem. Yours is figuring out exactly how you are going to explain holding a pair of honored guests at gunpoint. Or telling the Council that you let us get away.” He paused, and said, “In fact, I think we'll send a message to tha
t effect.”
His eyes widened, and he replied, “You bastard! They'll space me for this!”
Danus stepped around the side, a pistol in his hand, and looked at the squirming figure on the floor, writhing in the mud, half-out of his suit. A beaming smile crossed the Neander's face as he stepped over to the far wall, pulling down a long length of cable.
“I don't think he'll be any trouble, sir,” the trooper replied. “In fact, I think we might be able to have a nice little conversation.” Looking across at Cooper, he said, “Corporal Hunt told me to pass on that the base is secure, sir, and that no-one's going to ask any questions about where this gentleman is for the time being.”
“Good.” Looking at Naxos again, he continued, “Don't do any damage to him, just keep him confined until we get back. Hopefully, that should be within a few hours, unless the local savage natives decide to eat us.”
“They might,” Naxos said. “Look, let me go, come back into the base, and we'll forget this ever happened. I won't report it, I swear. No-one will ever know!”
“Right now I think that benefits you a lot more than it does us.”
Cantrell poked her head out from the cabin, and said, “Engine's ready, and she's got enough juice for a six hour run at least. We can move out whenever you want, unless you're enjoying your conversation.”
Standing up, Cooper brushed himself off, and said, “We'll see you soon.”
“No!” Naxos yelled, as Danus wrapped the cable around him. “I'm serious, Cooper, they'll kill you if you go.”
Stepping into the cabin, Cooper sat down next to Cantrell, and gestured at the tracks. “Come on. The road goes ever onward.”
“You've got to stop reading those old books,” she replied, as the engine rumbled into gear.
Chapter 13
“I quite understand, Captain,” Salazar said. “Under the circumstances, Harper and I are both willing to serve as hostages for Alamo's good conduct.” The hacker glared at him, as he continued, “We're being treated well, and are under no restraint.”
“Watch yourself,” Orlova replied. “If anything goes wrong, I'll do my best to get you out in a hurry, but the situation could deteriorate extremely quickly. We'll contact you every six hours, and if you miss a call, someone will come and take a look.”
“Understood, ma'am,” he said. “Salazar out.” Looking at Harper, he added, “We don't really have a choice. This might be the break that we've been looking for.”
“I just wish that it was someone else's neck on the line.” With a shrug, she waved her arm, and said, “I can deactivate these damn bracelets in a few seconds. Pretty simple device.”
“They'll know we did it, though.”
Nodding, she said, “I've already rigged mine so that I can turn it off when I want. Pass me your arm.” He held out her arm, and she started to work the mechanism, gently prying a portion of the casing loose. “This is really an opportunity, I guess. A chance to gather some intelligence. Under other circumstances we might have arranged this.”
“Be careful,” he replied, as she finished the work. “Remember that there's a summit meeting going on. We don't want to do anything that might jeopardize the peace negotiations.”
With a shrug, she said, “Doesn't mean I can't keep my eyes open. Never know when something might turn out to be useful.” Pointing at his armband, she said, “Just squeeze that plate as tight as you can, and it'll break the connection. You'll be invisible.”
“Got it,” he said, and the door opened, Valya and Tarak stepping inside, looking around their spartan quarters. Two bunks, a chair, and a drinking tap, one that only occasionally dripped.
“I hope this is satisfactory,” Tarak said. “Best quarters we could spare. If there's anything else you need, just let me know, but our facilities out here are somewhat limited.”
“This will be fine,” Salazar said. “I'd rather we didn't spend much time in here anyway. I was rather hoping that we might get some sort of a tour. If we're going to be on this rock for a few days, it would be nice to know our way around.”
Tarak glanced at Valya, who said, “That seems reasonable enough.”
Nodding, Harper added, “If we're going to be providing you with some new equipment, it would be a good idea for me to take a look at your technological baseline.” Gesturing at Salazar, she said, “Space combat is more my friend's line.”
Glaring at her, he added, “I wouldn't mind taking a look at your shuttles. I trained as a fighter pilot before I transferred to the regular Fleet.”
“A fighter pilot?” Valya said, her eyes widening. “Alamo carries fighters?”
With a smile, Harper said, “I'm afraid Alamo's defensive/offensive capabilities are classified.”
“I'd like to take a look at the tactical systems,” she said, shaking her head. “Tarak, you might as well show Lieutenant Harper the engineering levels, maybe the reactor room. I'm sure the technical crews will have a long list of equipment they need. I'll take Sub-Lieutenant Salazar down to the hangar.”
Glaring at him, Tarak said, “Is this wise? Giving them free run of the base, showing them where the shuttles are so they can escape.”
Taking a step forward, Salazar replied, “I have given my word as an officer in the Triplanetary Fleet that I will remain on this base until the peace negotiations have been concluded. Your leaders have decided that they want a hostage, and I respect that.” Folding his arms, he added, “If you would rather we remained here in this room, that's fair enough.”
“No,” Valya replied, looking sharply at Tarak. “I think we should show some trust. You aren't the enemy, after all.”
“Very well,” Tarak said with a sigh. “Come along, Lieutenant. You can come and see just how primitive our equipment is.”
As the two of them walked away, Valya guided Salazar down another corridor, long and twisted, the walls originally rock that had long-ago been fused to make it airtight. He followed her down, stopping as his eyes caught something green, the beginnings of a mural that someone had painted on the wall, a sunrise over a lush landscape, trees reaching for the sky with a blue stream winding around.
“My father began that,” she said. “Thirty-five years ago. There are always a few resources for decorations. Most of our cabins are filled with them.” She sighed, then added, “Some reminders of our long-lost home.”
Frowning, Salazar asked, “The planet is less than a day away at top speed.”
“We have no ships capable of bringing us back down. All of the ships we have were designed only to operate in space.” Pausing for a second, she said, “There are some of us who would gladly return to the surface, though I don't know what we would do if we got there. It's been centuries since we touched bare soil, breathed real air. Have you ever walked on the surface of a planet, a real planet?”
Nodding, he said, “Twice. Thule, one jump away, which is a bare, rocky desert compared to Arcadia, and Ragnarok, a snowball world. They're trying to terraform that one, but it's going to take centuries before the world is really livable.”
“But you can breathe the air, drink the water?”
“Yes. Our best guess is that some long-forgotten empire terraformed several worlds in this region to suit mankind, though we don't know why. One of the questions we're hoping to uncover on our current expedition. Arcadia must have been one of the worlds they chose to seed.”
“And they transplanted our people here, at the same time. There are legends, some of our earliest stories, talking about how we walked among the stars, were brought across infinite space by the Gods, beings who gave us our world, made it rich and fertile, and bade us to take care of what they had given us, and follow them into the universe.” Shaking her head, she said, “And look what we did with the bounty they gave us. A world in ruins, a people on the brink of death. When we first reached up for the stars, we had such hopes, such dreams. The
books of those days talk of expeditions to other planets, other systems.”
“It could still happen,” Salazar said, placing his hand on her shoulder as her face fell to look at the deck. “You're alive, and you've held on this long. If you can come to some sort of agreement with the Council, you can rebuild your world, your civilization, and push on. It's all still out there, waiting.”
“No, it isn't,” she said, with a sigh. “I'm a realist, Sub-Lieutenant.”
“Call me Pavel.”
With a smile, she asked, “Why? Oh, I forgot. Your people have two names, not three. Pavel, you're here already. When the UN arrived, many of us thought that we had lost our chance, but now we know for sure. Your ship, a century ahead of anything we could dream of, is going to explore this whole region. If there are uninhabited systems worth settling, you'll colonize them. Set up bases to extract resources.” Shaking her head, she added, “Probably even here. And we become a backwater, now and forever. Assuming, of course, that we survive at all.”
He couldn't think of anything to say. She was right, probably. When Alamo returned from its mission, the knowledge it would bring back would lead to follow-up expeditions, new trading routes, settlements, resources to exploit, perhaps new worlds to contact or colonize. Arcadia looked beautiful from orbit, a jewel in the darkness, and it would be too tempting to be passed up for long.
“Come on,” he said. “Show me the rest of it.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Nodding. To hell with the shuttles. You've seen them too well already, and all of them are essentially the same.”
“How did you come by sailships, anyway?” he asked, desperately trying to change the subject. “Aside from a few experimental models, we've never used them back at Sol. Engine technology just advanced too quickly, left them behind.”
“After the Cataclysm, we needed to keep things as simple as we could. We were left with one major resource at our disposal, the reason that our nation settled the outer moons in the first place, and sailships were the best way to exploit it.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword Page 12
