The young man's face turned red, and he looked up at his father with narrowed eyes, "My daughter is my responsibility, father."
"You would have her learn to use a spear, to make simple tools, to fish in the river?"
Orlova interrupted, "Naturally, we can provide some educational materials. Solar-powered computers, training software. Longer-term, we could probably arrange for some teachers to come out here."
Ildar nodded, "All of those things would be of benefit to us, but they are not what I had in mind."
"And what was that?"
He leaned forward, "I want citizenship in your Confederation, for myself and for my people. I am a greedy old man; I want them to have this world, and I want them to have the stars."
Orlova's eyes widened, and she looked at Melnik, who was as shocked as she. She turned back to the chief, "I'll...have to speak to my Captain."
Leaning back, the chief replied, "Take all the time you need. Tahir will provide you with the frequency of our transmitter." He smiled again, "We get all the use we can out of the technology we have.”
Leaning forward, Orlova asked, “What of the Cabal? That would be a greater enticement; anything you know would be vital.”
Shaking his head, Ildar replied, “I fear we know all too little. Ten years ago, their ships arrived, and they offered us the means of escape from the deathtrap our world had become; with reluctance, we accepted. All of us were transported here in a pair of large freighters, obviously old but reliable.”
“Herded like beasts in their hold,” Timur said. “They never let us see anything sensitive.”
“Upon our arrival, they turned us over to the Legion, placed us in a work camp.” He smiled, “They were not expecting the ferocity of our people. We escaped six months later, most of us, and made our way into the jungles, making them our greatest ally.”
Orlova could not hide her disappointment, “Is there anything more you can tell us?”
“I have already told you much; they have interstellar travel and are accustomed to moving large numbers of people, and are secretive to a fault; there is much they wish to hide. Their spacemen were talented in the art of silence; few of them ever spoke to us.”
Nodding, the young officer rose, “I should return to my post. I will convey your request to my commander, and ask him to make a quick decision.”
Smiling in reply, Ildar said, “Then may God go with you, young one.”
CHAPTER NINE
The briefing room seemed extremely empty to Caine; she'd taken her usual seat, leaving the head of the table empty. When Dietz walked into the room he had looked at the empty chair, over at Caine, and then taken his customary place. Quinn had cried off the meeting, at last report buried somewhere in the bowels of the laser array. It wasn't often he had a chance to look over it himself without remotes.
Dixon and Marshall were both teleconferencing, Marshall through a speaker, Dixon with a hologram that occasionally flickered off and on as the signal strength came and went. Matsumoto was sitting patiently, and Harper – at Caine's insistence, and after some 'encouragement' by Washington, was also there.
"Dixon, I think you need to start this one; could you tell everyone what you told me in your report?"
There was a brief pause as the signal raced back and forth from the moon before the pilot replied, "We found three more devices in the area, at all the obvious landing sites. It took some work, but we managed to disarm them; they're on their way back to Alamo for analysis, along with Ryder and Carpenter. Both of them feel fine, but I thought it best they get a full check-up before returning to duty. Once we had the entrance to that fissure cleared, I went down for another look. There's something down there, Lieutenant, some sort of artifact, and it's way, way down in the bowls of the moon. Our radar images aren't telling us much."
"What about the titanium?" Dietz asked.
"Amjad and Makala are getting the extraction equipment set up now. Thirty hours before our first yields."
"That's still our top priority, Lieutenant. Are there any other signs of possible sabotage?"
"Nothing we can find."
Harper broke in, "We thought that last time."
"Quite so, spaceman," Dietz said. "Nevertheless there is a reasonable prospect that we can safely extract the needed materials from the moon. Incidentally, I have completed my report on the incident at Lieutenant Caine's request, and I find no evidence that anyone on Alamo could have prevented the loss of Spaceman Salazar. I have also recommended Spaceman Harper for a citation for her conduct during the incident."
The nice words didn't make Caine feel any better. "Thank you, Lieutenant, I appreciate that," she replied, politely.
"What about the artifact?" Dixon asked.
"How deep did you say it was?" Caine replied.
"About twenty miles down. Perhaps sixty miles of tunnels to get to it according to the radar mapping. It's going to be quite an expedition to go get it, Lieutenant, but we can definitely do it in the time. I've done some asteroid caving, and we can get all the equipment we need from stores – or from the fabricators."
Matsumoto turned to Caine, "I have reviewed Lieutenant Dixon's list, and the fabrication time required will be minimal; it will have no significant impact on the repairs. Mr. Quinn has queued the required fabrication time."
Shaking her head, the lieutenant replied, "Can we send an automated probe down?"
"Constructing something to do the job would take time; that would affect our repairs," the sub-lieutenant replied.
"I've got a team ready to go right now," Dixon said.
"No," Caine replied. "Our best option is to focus on the primary task at hand, and that's getting Alamo ready for space again. I certainly couldn't spare you in any case, Lieutenant; that fighter screen of yours is our only protection at the moment in case of attack."
"Fine, then send someone else; I suppose you are right about the fighters," Dixon said, "but we've got to take a look at this thing."
"The artifact – whatever it is, assuming it isn't some sort of booby trap – has been there for a long time, Lieutenant, and it can certainly wait a little while longer."
"I disagree," Dietz said. "I agree with you, Lieutenant, that Lieutenant Dixon cannot be spared from her duties on Alamo, but an investigation of the artifact could prove invaluable at this time. Captain," he spoke to the microphone, "I would like to lead the expedition myself. My investigations in the starport are not proving fruitful, and I should be able to find a couple of volunteers to accompany me."
"I couldn't agree more," Dixon said from the moon. "We've got the means, let's get it done!"
The microphone crackled, "You understand the risks involved, Dietz? The chances of rescuing you should this go wrong would be problematic, and Caine could easily be right about this being some sort of trap."
"I quite understand, Captain."
"Very well. Lieutenant Caine will assume joint command of the ship and station, Mr. Dietz will lead a three-man expedition to the moon, to depart as soon as possible. Don't take any unnecessary risks – this is important, but I doubt very much that the information you are likely to find is worth three lives."
"Very good, Captain," Dietz replied. "We'll leave in eight hours; I'll select from the crew assigned to the starport."
"Don't take anyone that might be essential to the repair work. Is there anything else?"
Matsumoto spoke up, "We've been ignoring the satellites throughout all of this, Captain. They are still there in orbit, albeit inert."
"And I think we'd all rather they be kept that way, Lieutenant. Hands off the satellites; that's a job I want a top engineering team to do, and the only one I have on hand is busy at the moment."
"Work is proceeding well on the ship, Captain," Caine said. "The outer hull is now mostly off, and we're about to transfer command and control over to the spacedock. That's scheduled in a couple of watches. We've finished the sensor upgrades that Mulenga wanted, and I think we're going to have the
missile tracking modifications ready by the next watch."
"The life support systems have all been refreshed," Matsumoto added, "and Alamo is now fully fueled."
"Good, that puts you about on schedule. I think that's about everything for now, unless anyone else has anything?" When no-one replied, he continued, "I think I'd better be off, then; I have a shuttle to catch. Good hunting, Dietz."
The meeting effectively over, the officers stood up, beginning to file out of the room; only Dietz remained, sitting in his chair, looking at Caine very carefully as he waited for the last of the junior officers to leave. There was an odd look in his eyes she'd never seen before, perhaps a trace of sympathy.
"I was surprised, Lieutenant," he began.
She interrupted, "Surprised that I was opposed to your expedition?"
"Surprised you didn't ask to lead it. Your degree in archeology would have made you too obvious a choice to be turned down; Captain Marshall would probably have let you go."
Slumping in her chair, she replied, "I didn't think of it."
"You would have, normally." Dietz shook his head, "The very reason we are here, Lieutenant, is to acquire knowledge. Without that we would still be sitting back on Earth. Sometimes that means taking risks, and sometimes that means people die. That does not mean that we stop pushing outward, seeing what lies beyond. When I learned about this mission, I was exultant. It was everything I dreamed of when I first signed up for space duty."
The admission caught Caine by surprise; the normally recalcitrant Dietz had never opened himself up like this before, "It was for me as well. I didn't expect..."
"To have to go through what you did on the surface?" He paused, "It was a terrible thing you had to do. What were your alternatives? Those six lives gave themselves up..."
"For hundreds, I know," she abruptly interrupted. "This isn't a numbers game, not to me."
"Good. Every one of those lives matters, a thousand times more if you are in command. This is something I have observed in the past." He smiled, "Captain Marshall believes that I will soon have a ship of my own. Before I leave for the surface, I thought you should know that I would be honored to have you serve under me if that becomes the case. I rate you as a fine officer."
"Thanks, Lieutenant," she said, slightly baffled.
"It is worth it, Lieutenant. All of this,” he gestured around the room. “is worth the sacrifices. That is how I deal with my ghosts, and I have more than a few myself. All of us are here because of thousands of sacrifices. Our penance is to live our lives they way they would want us to, to make use of those sacrifices. Don't ever forget that. It is how I sleep at night."
"I'll try and remember that, sir. Thank you."
"Don't let anything stop you trusting your instincts, Lieutenant. From my observation, they are sound."
He smiled again, rose, and walked out of the room, leaving Caine shaking her head. She looked over the reports again, then down at her to-check list. It kept on rising, and perhaps dealing with the paperwork pile would take her mind off things. Then she smiled, an idea beginning to filter into her mind. Nodding to herself, she punched a button on the desk.
"Spaceman Harper, report to the briefing room on the double." Pondering, she tapped the speaker again, "On the double, spaceman!"
She waited for a moment, and the doors slid open, the green-haired hacker ducking her head inside, looking around. Caine gestured towards a chair, and with some reluctance, the young woman slid back into her recently vacated seat, leaning back and looking at the lieutenant.
"Forget something?" she asked. "At least my seat's still warm."
"No. How are the security upgrades coming?"
"To a standstill. Quinn's got all the bandwidth I need tied up at the moment. I was going to have a play around with the starport systems, see about getting those upgraded. Hell, if I can break into those systems, there are others who can as well. I've got some ideas, if you'd help me talk Quinn into giving me some fabricator time."
"No." Caine shook her head, "That's important, but I have a more important job for you to do."
Harper's left eyebrow raised. "Shoot."
"You were the only one who came close to picking up on that trap in time."
"My dad always said I was hopelessly paranoid. He was one to talk."
"Well, I think I can use it. We're all forgetting that basically, we're stuck helpless in a system that for decades has been the possession of an enemy power. Those booby traps on the moon could be the tip of a very large iceberg."
Comprehension dawned as Harper's face lit up, "You want me to be paranoid, right?"
"Got it. I want you to go over every scrap of data we've gathered, everything we've found up to now, and tell me if there is anything else we need to be worried about in this system. Take any resources you need that aren't being used in the repairs, and if you want anyone to assist you..."
"I work a lot better alone."
"I've noticed. If you think of anything, at any hour of the day or night, then I want to know about it instantly. If going through me will take to long, contact the bridge; I'll tell them to be on standby."
She shook her head, "First the Captain, now you. Why the hell is everyone trusting me all of a sudden?"
"Because you have the good habit of being right, and neither the Captain nor I want to waste that. Keep proving us right."
"Sure," she smiled. "I'll need a few days of ration packs."
"That's all?"
"And don't bother chasing after me this time. The Captain knows where I'll be if I'm needed."
Frowning, Caine nodded. With a big grin on her face, Harper bounded out of the room, leaving the lieutenant on her own again. She wondered what the pay-off would be on this particular gamble.
CHAPTER TEN
Marshall peered out of his window at the rolling jungle below, almost close enough for him to reach out and grab a chunk of foliage. The shuttle lurched from left to right, caught in turbulence; it really wasn't designed to fly this slowly, and the pilot – Steele, taking the opportunity to grab some flight time – was having to use the landing thrusters to race down the river. Sanderson was sitting in the seat in front of Marshall, looking as green as the jungle, and after a few seconds more he gave up and reached for the sick bag, racing down the isle to the toilet.
"At least there's something he isn't good at," said Cunningham, sitting to Marshall's left.
Nodding, Marshall turned back to the view, "I'm still surprised you didn't complain when I left the espatiers behind."
"We aren't planning an invasion, and it isn't as if we can't rain fire from the sky on demand."
Chuckling, the captain replied, "I really hope it doesn't come to that."
While he was looking out at the view, a part of him was still considering the report Orlova had sent in before he left. Giving the Tatar colonists Triplanetary citizenship was certainly an...interesting idea, and not one that those elements wanting independence for Jefferson would particularly welcome. Still, it would give them a foothold on the planet, though how much use it would be to have a single enclave surrounded by hostile forces was another question entirely.
Steele's voice crackled over the intercom, "Coming to the mouth of the river now, Captain. Approaching the settlement."
Marshall looked down beneath the shuttle as Cunningham scampered to the other side of the shuttle to see for himself. Rolling beneath them was a collection of rafts, anchored to the shore with thick cables that were visible even from this high up, tall ships scattered around amongst them rolling at anchor, some of them laden with cargo. Tiny stick figures raced around, and Marshall could make out a couple of anti-aircraft guns, primitive and obviously improvised, turning towards them; Steele had obviously seen them as well, and the shuttle danced to the side in a random walk evasive pattern.
The politician emerged from the toilet, still a little pale but with no trace on his clothes, which impressed Marshall not a little given the maneuvers Steele was pullin
g. Cunningham gestured down at the guns, shaking his head.
"I just saw tracer shots. They're shooting at us," he said, calmly.
Tapping the intercom, Marshall called Steele, "Is there anywhere good we can set down?"
"Quite a few places on those rafts, Captain. I don't know how fireproof they are, though."
"Good point." He paused, "Fancy trying a water landing?"
Cunningham's head turned quickly towards Marshall, "No-one's ever done that, skipper."
"The shuttle's rated for it. Dixon checked the specifications before we left."
Crackling over the intercom, Steele said, "I'm making my approach now. Going to try and set us down aside that big raft."
"What about the anti-aircraft fire?"
"Light caliber rounds by the look of it, sir." Almost on cue, there was a loud rattle from the rear of the hull, "Nothing that could penetrate our armor according to the warbook."
"Fine. Take us down, and switch me over to the exterior speakers."
A loud clunk. "You're on, sir. Mind if I concentrate on this?"
"Go ahead and make history, midshipman."
Cunningham was playing with his fingers, periodically looking at the closed cockpit door, longing to take the controls for himself, though whether he wanted to punch them away and out into orbit or be the one to make the landing, Marshall couldn't say. Sanderson simply looked straight ahead, trying to ignore the world around him. Marshall pulled a microphone from a slot on the wall, pausing for a second.
"We are unarmed, and friends, who seek only to speak with you and your leaders. We seek an alliance to fight the Legion."
Sanderson raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing as Marshall continued to speak, "We have come in peace, and if after we have talked you have no wish for further contact, we will leave the same way."
Marshall looked out at the water below; it was getting awfully close, spray kicking back as the landing jets played across the ground. Water landings had been simulated as a possibility before in structural tests, but he couldn't recall any examples of actual landings. Certainly not off-Earth, anyway. Steele wasn't letting that stop her; the shuttle gently descended towards the ocean, stabilizers flying out in all directions, and the largest raft just a few meters away. The banging on the outer hull had ceased, at least.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Tip of the Spear Page 7
