Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword
Page 23
Behind him, he heard voices and footsteps, reinforcements on the way, and he leapt over the desk, firing two bullets into the nearest crewman before sprinting forward, shots ringing out all around him as he weaved from side to side. Something snagged at his leg, a hand reaching for him, and he tumbled down, spinning around and shooting at his attacker, sending him flying back to the wall with the force of the bullet.
Above him, Yorax raised his rifle, but Cantrell was faster, taking down the old man with a bullet perfectly positioned between the eyes. He looked baffled for a moment before collapsing onto a console, then sliding onto the floor.
As if by some strange mutual consent, the fighting ceased, and Cooper climbed to his feet, looking at the demoralized crewmen all around him. He moved to cover the room and the corridor while Cantrell stepped over to the control station, throwing a series of switches that brought the acceleration to a halt.
“I've transferred command functions to Alamo,” she said. “We'll be on our way back to Itix in a couple of minutes.”
“It's over,” Cooper said, looking around. The body of Yorax lay cold on the deck before him, still clutching his pistol, the rest of his people resigned to their fate. “It's all over now.”
Chapter 25
The second round of negotiations were profoundly different from the first. Not least the setting. This time Orlova had managed to insist that they hold it on the surface, out in the open, a table placed on a carpet of green grass under a blue sky, near a trickling blue stream. Truly neutral ground, considering Alamo's role in the recent battle. Perhaps more importantly, most of the faces were new. Poltis had been joined by Valya, the attempted revolution resulting in a swift promotion for the engineer, and the Council was now being represented by Ortok and a heavily-bandaged Naxos, the only two people that the screaming masses of Skybase could agree on.
A third side was represented as well, Vyram and a tactician named Hilgar speaking for the Combined Fleet. Orlova suspected that silent Hilgar was only there to make up the numbers, but thus far, Vyram had more than made up for his comrade's reluctance to talk. She glanced to her left, half-listening to Doctor Duquesne's presentation, outlining the medical technology Alamo could provide, to at least start to repair the genetic damage that ten generations of inbreeding had caused.
“If this is as you say,” Ortok said, “This seems to solve a lot of our problems.” He sat back, looking around, shaking his head. “You haven't told us what your price is for the transfer of all of this technology.” He looked down at a list on the table, tapping the points one at a time. “Hydroponics systems, technical manuals for survival training, ground-side equipment and clothing, improved communications hardware.” Shaking his head, he said, “Tell us the price, and I guarantee the Council will pay it.”
“Two-fold,” Orlova said. “The first is simple. The right to free passage through your system for any Triplanetary ship.”
“You could have that without asking,” Vyram said. “Even if you didn't want to bother swatting aside our ships, there are plenty of other ways in or out of the system.” Folding his arms, he said, “Trade monopolies, military bases?”
Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “Oh, I'm certain that you'll be seeing some of our corporations in the near future, but we're not demanding anything. I hope and expect that you will find treaties and commercial agreements with the Confederation of use in the future, but we're not here to conquer you, we're here to help.”
“And the second thing?” Naxos asked.
“Peace.” She looked around, and said, “You need to end this dispute. I don't demand that you form one unified government. I know that is a lot to ask. I do insist that you sign a peace treaty that you can all live with.”
Nodding, Powell added, “You have all seen our projections. If anything, the situation is more precarious than it already was, with the loss of a quarter of your space-lift capacity. Now you truly have no choice. You must work together, or die.”
“I think the forces that were driving us apart are gone,” Poltis replied.
“And as for a government,” Ortok added, “I'm not sure we've got one at the moment.” Turning to Naxos, he asked, “Who exactly do we represent today?”
“The Provisional Governing Council,” the guard replied. “It's just words. Meaningless. Ultimately, bringing back this technology and the new medical techniques, anything reasonable that we bring back will be accepted.” He looked across at Vyram, and asked, “What's the Fleet's position?”
“We will not fight. It is as simple as that.” Glancing around the table, he continued, “None of us have any stomach for war, not any more. We've done enough fighting for a dozen lifetimes.” A smile crept across his face as he continued, “A peace treaty is a moot point. No one in this system has anything left to fight with.”
“Then you will turn over Itix to the Council?” Ortok asked, rage beginning to spread on Poltis' face.
“The Coalition...”
“Gentlemen!” Orlova said, slamming her gavel on the table. “The Fleet will stay in control of Itix until such a time as a unified government forms to take possession. We've come so damn far. Are you really going to tear it all down over that?”
“We're going to need more water than the Coalition,” Naxos said, quietly. “We cannot agree to an equal split.”
“That's reasonable,” Valya said, earning a glare from Poltis. “Perhaps a better approach would be to look to the future. Allow us a ten percent share of the ice mining for the moment, and permission to build a new mine of our own elsewhere on the surface, using the current base to speed the construction.”
“I'm not sure you have the resources for that,” Powell said, shaking his head. “It's an ambitious plan.”
“We're space-born, Lieutenant. It's in our blood.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Though sitting down here on the surface is tempting.”
“I agree. Our future is in space,” Naxos said.
With a sigh, Powell said, “I think I'm going to have to go over my projections again. You have no future as a technological civilization in space alone. Even working together in perfect harmony, you have not got the resources to sustain your population. Over the course of the next twenty years, you will need to rebuild every colony and outpost you have, including Skybase. Itix is about the only one that could last longer.” Sitting back on his chair, he said, “With a maximum population capacity of four hundred and ten. Where do the rest go?”
“Your government...” Vyram began, but Orlova interrupted.
“I thought you wanted to preserve your independence?” she said. “Besides, while I'm certain we will maintain contact, we're a long way from our bases, our trade routes. I doubt the Senate will approve the sort of rebuilding project you are talking about, not when you have an inhabitable planet that can support you all.”
Glancing at Ortok, Naxos said, “Forgive us, Captain. None of us have ever lived on the surface of a planet. Just sitting here in the open air without a suit is requiring a level of self-control that I didn't know I possessed.”
“We cannot give up space,” Poltis said, bluntly. “Not after everything we have fought for. It would be nothing short of a betrayal of our ancestors.”
“I'm not asking you to,” Powell replied. “Maintaining one, or two installations in space is an excellent idea. Itix, for example, and perhaps an installation in the outer system to support mining. Hubs for economic expansion and trade. It's all in Appendix B of my outline.” With a deep breath, he said, “But all of it is dependent on the bulk of your population moving to the surface. Either you do it today, and maintain a level of technological sophistication, or you do it in thirty years as starving savages.”
Nodding, Orlova added, “Not to mention that there are hundreds of thousands of people on the surface, your people, all of them struggling in primitive conditions. In three or four generations, you c
an bring them up to your current level, then start to progress beyond that. Have starships of your own, start to colonize your system on a sustainable basis. Finally make the dreams of your ancestors come true. Isn't that worth fighting for?”
“It's been too long,” Naxos said. “We just don't have any common ground. Not to mention the atrocities our people carried out down here.” Shaking his head, he looked at his feet, and said, “I just don't see how we can find a connection.”
With a smile, Orlova pulled out her communicator, and said, “Ensign, it's time.”
The hatch of the nearest buggy popped open, and Cooper stepped out with Reana walking beside him, nervously looking around at the delegates, still clutching her spear to her side. Cooper had a hand on her shoulder, a smile on his face, and a datapad in his hand.
“What is this?” Poltis asked.
“When we captured the base,” Cooper began, “We obtained a vast quantity of medical data, taken during the genetic raids that the Council launched on the planet. That included records of DNA.” Looking at Naxos, he said, “What you did down here was a very brave act.”
“I just did what had to be done,” the guard said, blushing. “Anyone else would have done the same. I couldn't just stand there and watch her being killed.”
“Of course not,” Cooper replied. “She's your sister.”
His eyes widened, and he said, “That's impossible. I'm an only child.”
“Your father must have had more pull with the Council than you thought. You were produced using genetic material taken from Reana's mother, who was later returned to the surface.” Glancing down at the wary girl, he said, “It must have taken her years to get over it, but twelve years later, she managed to give birth to this little lady.”
“I don't believe it,” Naxos said, eyes wide.
“I can show you the data if you want,” Cooper said. “Does it matter?”
“There's your connection,” Orlova pressed. “We've found a hundred and nine people up in space who have relatives here on the surface. Some of them even live in the Coalition now, defectors from the Council. You don't have to go back ten generations to find that link, gentlemen. These are your sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews. Are you really going to abandon them now, as you did once before?”
Naxos rose from the table, walked over to Reana, and knelt down on the ground in front of her, saying, “No. I don't think we can.”
“It's not going to be as easy as that,” Poltis said, looking at the scene. “We'd have to establish a ground installation, some sort of colonial outpost. That's going to take years.”
“Days,” Orlova said. “All the designs for prefabricated buildings are in our database. Alamo will make a gift of a small village to you, right here. I had my people run a full survey yesterday, and the ground is ideal. You'll start with a site capable of supporting a hundred and fifty people. The rest will be up to you.”
Poltis looked at Ortok, nodded, and said, “It's a big step.”
“The important decisions are never easy, Coordinator. This is one that you have to take.”
“We'll do it,” Naxos said, turning back to the table. “I'll come down. I'll stay. I'm sure we can find volunteers.”
“I still think our future lies in space,” Vyram said, “but I suppose I can't argue with the establishment of an enlarged outpost down here, to see how it might work in practice.”
“We'll have to discuss the details,” Poltis added. “I think we might come up with something. We've got a lot of thinking to do. At least we can get started now.” He looked down at the draft treaty on the table, then said, “I'll sign.”
“And I,” Ortok added. “Vyram?”
“You need to ask?” the veteran replied. “We're going to have to make a show of this, aren't we.”
Nodding, Orlova said, “My staff are already preparing for a ceremony up on Alamo. I rather hoped you would come to this decision today. A shuttle will be ready to take you up in an hour.”
“I'll stay down here,” Naxos said, looking at Reana. “I've got some catching-up to do.”
“I think we can manage without you,” Ortok said with a smile.
“Then, gentlemen, the meeting is adjourned,” Orlova said, slamming her gavel on the table one last time. As the delegates dispersed to head back to the buggies, she walked over to the stream, Powell by her side, looking down at the trickling water.”
“I'd hoped for more,” she said.
“It's a start.” Powell replied. “With more than a hundred people down here, they'll start to tell their families, start to put down roots, and the trickle of immigrants will become a flood. When the next generation grows up, this will be the frontier everyone wants to explore. They'll have a hard time finding people to stay up in orbit.”
Looking over at Naxos, talking quietly with Reana while Cooper protectively looked on, she continued, “You know if what those bastards did provides that sort of human connection, something to bind these people together, it might at least give it some sort of meaning.”
“This civilization fissioned into too many factions,” Powell said. “It's past time they all got back together.” Looking up at the sky, he said, “What's next? Are we going home with the good news?”
Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “We've still got a mission to accomplish. Their wandering through space is almost over. Ours has barely begun.”
Thank you for reading 'Triple-Edged Sword'. 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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Copies of the cover, and other work by the artist, are available as prints at http://keithdraws.deviantart.com/gallery/
Look out for Battlecruiser Alamo: Forbidden Seas, coming in April 2016…
Table of Contents
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