Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor

by Richard Tongue

   “I guess not,” he said, stopping at a door. He tapped a five-digit sequence into an old keypad, and the door slid open to reveal a small, comfortable office. Collapsing into a seat behind a desk, he waved them to other chairs by the wall. Orlova sat under a picture of an older woman and three smiling children, standing in some sort of space station by the look of it.

   “The family,” he gestured. “I’d love to have them out here, but they need a decent education. Kitanya’s in training to be a pilot right now; I don’t know whether to hope the Fleet grabs her or not. If they don’t, I can get her out here.” He chuckled, continuing, “I can always use another shuttle pilot, but it isn’t much of a career for her. I sometimes wish there were other options.”

   “Perhaps, one day.”

   “Maybe.” He glanced down at the communicator, “I wonder how analysis is doing with that damn datapad.”

   “Don’t you trust us?” Orlova said in as playful a way as she could manage.

   “What I think or not doesn’t really matter. Myself I think that you’d be out of your mind to come out here if you were working for someone else – I mean, this station’s in the middle of nowhere, and you’d be putting yourself in danger for nothing.” A light finally beeped. “At last.”

   “Analysis here,” a speaker said – with a strange accent that Orlova couldn’t place, and a slight hesitancy over the words, as though English was not the speaker's natural language. “We have completed our interpretation of the data.”

   “And?”

   “Everything seems satisfactory. We have double-checked.”

   “Good.” He looked up, saying to Orlova, “I’d hate to think I was sitting with a pair of desperadoes. I suppose that takes care of everything.”

   Orlova glanced at Carpenter, trying to hide her shock. The decoy, the plan to get her into the office where she could quietly threatened the dockmaster with no-one watching, actually appeared to have worked. Momentarily she was wrong-footed.

   “I’m glad we pass your muster.”

   He chuckled, “I always feel nervous as well. Heck, when I had my first loyalty test, I was sick the night before. I kept wondering if there was something I had missed, something I shouldn’t have said or done. These things are all formalities, of course. You’ll find that out in time.” Leaning back in his chair, he continued, “I’m glad we’re beginning to get some fresh blood, anyway. The more spacemen we have, the better.”

   “Can we discuss the repair schedule, now?”

   “Of course, of course,” he said. “I think the first priority has to be getting down to the superstructure.”

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “That’ll take too long.”

   “Come on, Commander, I've got to do a proper job. If we take a month or two, that's how long it's going to have to take. Think of it from my point of view – I'm responsible for your repairs.”

   “We need to be out of here in weeks, not months, Mr. Price. Concentrate on getting the ship’s systems operational. The fundamental stuff will just have to wait until we reach our next overhaul.”

   “You might not make it to another overhaul without one.”

   “Nevertheless. We have much interior damage…”

   “I saw that on the reports.”

   “And that needs handling. Repairs to sensors, communications, weapons,” she paused, then said, “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job…”

   “Funny, it looks from here as if you are doing just that.”

   “But as the commander of the ship – no matter how temporarily – I need to get what I want. I will accept any responsibility for the consequences.”

   “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there.”

   Taking a deep breath, Orlova said, “Is this office secure?”

   “It is.”

   “There is a real expectation that a Task Force will be sent out from the Confederation to follow up Alamo. I believe the idea is to put as many ships as possible into the firing line should that happen.”

   “Yes, we certainly can’t let them get through to the Home Systems. Not that I think putting a damaged ship into the line is a good idea…”

   “Orders are orders, Mr. Price.”

   “Quite so,” he replied. “Quite so. I take it this information is restricted?”

   “To be honest, I should not be telling you. However, I don’t see the harm in giving you a little warning. This station is not heavily defended.”

   He barked a short laugh, then said, “Aside from a few men with guns, it isn’t defended at all. Regulations are quite clear, and I certainly won’t be the one to break them. Tempting as it might occasionally be.” Leaning across the table, he said, “Do you think this is a real danger?”

   “All I know is what I have told you.”

   Sighing, he said, “I’d better build up the depots on Sandveld a little, start making preparations for an evacuation if necessary. More paperwork. Gagh.”

   “So long as it doesn’t interfere with the work on Hercules…”

   “It won’t, it won’t.” He sighed again, and reached for a keyboard, “I’ve got an awful lot of work to do, and while I don’t want to throw you out…”

   “You need some privacy to concentrate,” Orlova said. “I quite understand.” She stood up, headed for the door, then said, “I’ll head back to Hercules.”

   “Oh, feel free to have a wander around for a bit if you want to stretch your legs. And if you want to organize leave, we’ve got some recreation facilities.” He looked up and smiled again, “By order of the Court, what’s ours is yours anyway.”

   “Thanks, I’ll see to that.”

   The two of them walked out of the office, heading back for Hercules. Carpenter looked as if she was about to burst, but Orlova silenced her with a look, walking towards the elevator while paying as little attention as possible to her surroundings. All of this was supposed to look natural, and they had already got away with more than she had thought was possible. There was no risk blowing it at this stage.

   She was paying so little attention that she was caught off-guard by a figure staggering into her, carrying a crate that was obviously too heavy for him; one of the ‘lower caste’, who attracted the attention of one of the guards.

   “It was my fault,” Orlova said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

   “He should have been,” the guard scowled.

   “I said, it was my fault. Leave it.” She mustered as harsh a tone as was possible, and it seemed to work as the guard returned to his place by the airlock.

   Her heart felt lighter as she stepped into the elevator, gravity fading away as they returned to the central core. She had to keep the act going until they reached the relative safety of the ship, where they could be sure not to be overheard. The door opened, and Orlova kicked off, shaking her head as the airlock closed behind her. Nelyubov was still standing there, waiting for them.

   “I can’t believe that worked,” Carpenter said. “He bought it! The whole story!”

   “The data passed inspection?” Nelyubov said, frowning. “Are you sure?”

   “You see the security troopers?” Orlova replied. “We’re going to get the repairs we need, and we didn’t even have to use our surprise package.”

   “I still think it seems too good to be true.”

   Shrugging, Carpenter said, “It’s an out-of-the-way station…”

   “And we know that security is something that the Cabal take extremely seriously,” Nelyubov pressed. “All of this seems far too convenient. It might be a trap.”

   “Why?” replied Carpenter. “If they wanted us they could have us. We couldn’t put up much of a fight, and they don’t know about our little self-destruct system. They’d never have let us dock.”

   “Which does not mean I don’t want you both on your guard. Carpenter, I know what yo
u want to do.”

   “Frank, they have Neander. Alive. On the station.”

   “You’re kidding.”

   “No. Maggie, I need to investigate this.”

   Sighing, Orlova replied, “What I need you to do is watch for sabotage, but it can’t do any harm to take some quiet looks around.”

   “Great. First of all I need to interview one. We know next to nothing about their belief systems, their psychology. I’ll get enough material out of this for a dozen books!”

   Nelyubov shook his head. “I think we have higher priorities.”

   “We came here to investigate, didn’t we?”

   “Susan, I hate to say it, but he is quite right. You grew up working around life-support systems, engineering components. I want you to act as liaison with the repair teams, and make sure that everything is working as it should.” Raising a hand, she continued, “If you get a chance, feel free to conduct your research, but ship functions come first.”

   “I know,” Carpenter replied, quietly. “All my life, I’ve wanted to...meet one. When I was just a kid, I thought they still lived on Earth, I thought it was all real. And now it is, and…”

   “And you have a million questions to ask, all at once. Take a breath, Susan.” She felt something in her pocket, something crumpling. Reaching in, she tugged out a piece of paper, writing scrawled on it.

   “What’s that?” Nelyubov asked.

   “Your guess is as good as mine.” She smoothed out the paper and peered at it, trying to decode the tiny handwriting, “You have friends on the station who are trying to help you. If you want to know more, come down to the planet and meet the rest of us. We’ll be waiting for you, Sub-Lieutenant.” She paused, then said, “There are a series of coordinates, map references at a guess.”

   Carpenter reacted with a start, “Are you sure it said that?”

   “Absolutely.”

   “I knew all of this was too good to be true,” Nelyubov said. “What are you going to do?”

   “Keep the appointment,” she replied. “What else can I do? Price said he’d arrange a trip down to the planet. I’ll call and let him know that I can take him up on it.”

   “But the risk…”

   “I think, Lieutenant, that there would be a rather greater risk in not going.”

   “Maggie, you…”

   “No. This one’s mine, and mine alone.”

  Chapter 7

   Cooper took a deep breath as he stepped out onto the bridge, looking around the familiar flight deck. Alpha Watch was entering the second hour of its shift, but already he could see something out of place; the watch officer’s chair was empty, Midshipman McGuire periodically leaning over from her chair at Guidance to make adjustments to the vacant console. She looked over, belatedly noticing his presence on the bridge.

   “Can I help you, Corporal?”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “I’m looking for Sub-Lieutenant Matsumoto. Any idea where she is?”

   “I wish I did. She called me a couple of hours ago and said that she had something urgent to do, ship’s business she couldn’t tell me about, and that I was handling the watch. We’re breaking out of hendecaspace in four hours; she’d better be back by then.”

   “Do you have any idea what she was doing?”

   “She wouldn’t tell me. Why do you want her?”

   “Same problem as you,” he replied, lying through his teeth. “I was supposed to meet up with her to discuss my last after-action report, and she never showed up.”

   Turning back to her station, McGuire replied, “Well, if I see her, I’ll tell her you dropped by. This isn’t like her at all.”

   Cooper turned to the elevator, then paused at the threshold, “Does the Captain know she isn’t here?”

   That elicited a frown from McGuire, “I presume so. He’s off-shift right now, down in his cabin. Do you think I should check?”

   “No, it’s probably nothing important. I’m sure she wouldn’t miss a shift without permission, ma’am.”

   Glancing up at the clock, the midshipman replied, “I’ll give her another half-hour, then I think I’d better make inquiries. If Lieutenant Lane comes up here we’ll all catch seven varieties of hell in any case.” Turning back to Cooper, she said, “If you find her, let me know right away, will you?”

   “Certainly, ma’am.”

   Stepping back into the elevator, he tapped for the quarters deck. Visiting the bridge was unusual enough that he’d been reluctant to take the risk, but an enlisted wandering around officers’ country was going to attract even more attention. He tapped his foot on the floor waiting for the doors to open; after a few seconds, he stepped out into a deserted deck.

   He walked the ten paces to Matsumoto’s quarters, paused for a moment, and rang for entry. First once, then twice, then again. No response. The door was sealed, locked from the inside. Reaching down for his communicator, he paused for a second then raised it to his mouth.

   “Cooper to Matsumoto,” he said, softly. “Cooper to Matsumoto.” There was no reply, and somehow, he wasn’t surprised. Looking at the lock, he started to remember his combat hacking training. He knew enough to get the door open, but what he wasn’t sure about was whether he could cover his tracks well enough to get past Security.

   Voices coming down the corridor broke his deliberation, and he started to jog in that direction, searching his mind for an excuse. Tyler and Kibaki were walking towards the elevator; the latter looked over at Cooper, frowning.

   “Lost, Corporal?”

   “Just going for a jog, sir,” he said. “Twice round the ship.”

   “It’s the middle of the night,” Tyler replied. “Shouldn’t you be in your rest period?”

   Looking down at the ground, and thanking the acting lessons he’d taken in school, Cooper said, “I haven’t been able to sleep since the battle, sir. Not for long, anyway.”

   Kibaki patted his hand on Cooper’s shoulder, “I understand, son. You should think about seeing the doctor if it doesn’t get better. We’re going to need you fresh and ready to take on those transports.”

   “I’ll do my part, sir.”

   “I know. Good night, Corporal, and try and get some sleep,” he said, as the two of them continued down towards the elevator. Cooper jogged for a moment more, waiting until he heard the door close, then returned to Matsumoto’s door, his mind made up. He couldn’t risk bringing anyone else into the loop without overplaying his hand, and if she was the saboteur, they needed to know about it.

   Pulling a toolkit out of his pocket, he started to work, clipping the probe by the door and working a series of buttons and controls. The trick was not only to get through the lock, but in such a way that the occupant wouldn’t know that anyone had interfered. He struggled to come up with an excuse for breaking in should Matsumoto actually be inside, but he dismissed that possibility. She wouldn’t just be asleep in her cabin – she was either on the bridge, or she was somewhere else on the ship.

   The door slid open, and he quickly took a step in, his eyes opening wide at what he saw – Matsumoto’s body lying on the deck, a pool of blood trickling away into the carpet. He automatically took a step back, shaking his head at what he saw, and started to look around for any clue, any evidence. Her terminal was on, the local database flashing that it had been formatted; a computer expert could recover the data, but that was going to be beyond his limited talents.

   Just as he was reaching for his communicator, the door opened again, and Lane was standing at the threshold of the door, reaching for her pistol. As he turned, she drew it, pointing the gun at his chest.

   “Keep quite still, Corporal,” she said. “One move and I will shoot you.” Reaching down for her communicator, she continued, “Security team to Matsumoto’s quarters. Urgent.”

   “I was about to call,” he replied, but she shook her head.

   
“Why, Corporal?”

   “I didn’t do it, ma’am. I found the body…”

   “After breaking in? I saw you working outside.”

   “Damn it, Lieutenant, I can explain…”

   “And you will, Corporal. I assure you of that. Under interrogation, most likely.”

   The sound of running feet echoed from outside, and Cooper found himself looking into the horrified faces of Orlowski and Duggan, weapons drawn, pointed at him. They glanced at Lane, who fixed him with a steely gaze.

   “Take him into custody.”

   “Ma’am, are you sure?” Duggan said. “This all seems like some sort of mistake.”

   “No mistake, Private. I found him over the body.”

   Orlowski knelt down beside Matsumoto’s corpse, “Still warm. She didn’t die long ago.”

   “Corporal, if you confess now it will go a lot easier on you.”

   “I didn’t kill her!”

   Shaking her head, she motioned him out of the room, stepping into the corridor. Most of the sleeping officers had been wakened by the commotion; Captain Marshall was waiting outside.

   “What happened, Lieutenant.”

   “Corporal Cooper murdered Matsumoto, sir. I don’t know why.”

   “Lieutenant, it wasn’t me!”

   Raising a hand, Marshall turned to Cooper, “What happened, Corporal. Your version.”

   “I went into her room, and found her body on the floor, exactly as it is now. I was just about to raise the alarm when Lieutenant Lane walked in.”

   “And why were you in her cabin?”

   “I was trying to find her, sir.” The two men locked eyes, and Cooper knew that Marshall believed his story – but he also knew that at least for the moment, he couldn’t admit it. A shout came from inside the cabin, and Orlowski walked out.

   “She was killed by a standard low-velocity bullet, sir. Could have been anyone from ship’s stores.”

   “The RFID will give you the serial number, Private,” Lane said. “Who checked it out of the armory?”

   Looking down at the deck, he replied, “According to the records, Corporal Cooper, ma’am.”