Battlecruiser Alamo: Vault of Eternity

by Richard Tongue

   “I guess not. I just wish I was going with you.” He paused, then said, “Watch your backs down there, and if you run into anything you can't handle, get back up to the surface on the double. You realize this means that I'm going to have to keep my finger on the trigger? I can't risk losing the base to a surprise assault.”

   “Understood,” Harper said. She looked into the gathering gloom, and added, “We'd better get moving. Call you when I can. Harper out.”

   Carpenter reached down for a backpack, swinging it over her shoulder, and said, “Road goes ever onward, people. We take the tunnel at the far end of the Vault for a mile and a half, and then a shaft down a couple of hundred feet.” She smiled, looked at the other two, and said, “This is going to be fun.”

   “We have different definitions for that word, ma'am,” Weber said, reaching for a rifle. “I''m ready.”

   “Let's move out,” Harper said, leading the way. She could feel eyes watching her from every direction, as though the enemy troops were already in position. Reaching for her pistol, she picked up another rucksack, and followed Carpenter and Weber into the darkness.

  Chapter 14

   “We do have one advantage,” Caine said, looking around the briefing room. “We are able to control the time and place of our next engagement with Waldheim.” Gesturing at the strategic display, a slowly rotating hologram of the local sub-system, she continued, “There are plenty of places for gravitational swings, lots of room for maneuver.”

   “They've realized that,” Sub-Lieutenant Scott, Alamo's Weapons Officer, replied. “Take a look at her trajectory. That's a long, lazy orbit that gives them all the options in the universe. No question that they're waiting for us to make the next move, and they've set themselves up to guard the planet.” She paused, then added, “We still haven't been able to break through the interference. For all we know, they've been captured already.”

   “A realistic possibility, in my assessment,” McCormack said. “I was opposed to this whole mission from the start, and...”

   Slamming a hand on the table, Foster said, “Not if I know Pavel Salazar, Kristen Harper and Frank Rhodes. You could put the three of them down on a planet with the clothes on their backs, and they'd end up running the place in a month. They're holding, Captain, and they're waiting for us to come down and get them.” Glaring at the squadron leader, she added, “More to the point, Waldheim must be holding close to the planet because of them. I'd bet they're giving Estrada's ground forces a lot of interesting problems.”

   “What about Pioneer?” Murphy asked.

   “Still no word from the mission team,” Caine said with a sigh. “They're in the same interference barrier, of course, but we now know that both shuttles were destroyed.”

   “I'd like to volunteer to take Red Flight out to take a closer look,” Murphy said. “We can go in low over the surface and get some close-range scans, find out what happened. Then come back with a shuttle to rescue any survivors.”

   “Out of the question,” McCormack said. “Waldheim would spot you coming, and have a full squadron waiting for you as soon as you arrived. I don't care how much fancy flying you can pull, Murphy, twenty-four missiles will ruin your whole day. And we can't spare a single fighter for a suicide mission like that.” Turning to Francis, she asked, “What about probes?”

   “We already tried,” he replied. “Waldheim's using long-range missiles to knock them down as fast as we launch them.” Pausing, he added, “Which I suspect means that there is something down there to hide, or they wouldn't be going to so much trouble. I think we must consider a rescue mission, Captain.”

   Marshall nodded, and added, “We'll be passing pretty close in a little over fifty hours on our current course. At that point we can consider some sort of rescue flight.”

   “Assuming Waldheim doesn't stop us,” Caine said. “We can't even get through to them, Captain. Bowman's been signaling constantly for hours, and they're not responding. I still think that Colonel Cruz is preventing our messages from reaching them. General Estrada...”

   “Is still an officer in the United Nations Space Fleet,” McCormack said. “We don't need to conjure up conspiracy theories to explain this away. As far as I'm concerned, the enemy is the enemy, and that is all there is to it. We need to come up with a plan to destroy Waldheim completely. They made the first move, and they're fighting our people on the surface. We've got all the excuse we need...”

   “To start a war?” Caine asked. “That's what we're talking about here, Lieutenant. There may only be two ships out here, but the scale doesn't make a difference.” She paused, then said, “It's a big galaxy, Danny. Our objective should be to gather all the information we can, evacuate our people, and get out of the system.”

   “And if the wormhole returns?” Scott replied.

   “We've had our sensors focused on the exit point for twenty hours, Sub-Lieutenant, and we've yet to spot a thing. The best guess we have is that it was one-way.”

   “Can we trust the science team? We already know that their department head was a traitor.”

   “I don't think we've got a choice,” Francis said. “Besides, I doubt they'd be willing to commit suicide for their cause, and that's what stranding us out here would mean. Aside from short-term tactical considerations, their best interests would be in getting home and passing on our research to their superiors.” Turning to Marshall, he added, “I'm more concerned about espionage than sabotage at this point, sir.”

   “Agreed.” The door slid open, and Santiago walked in, dropping down into a vacant chair, running grease-laden hands down her uniform jacket. “Lieutenant...”

   “Chief, sir,” Santiago said. “Just chief. The rank wasn't my stupid idea.” Pulling out a datapad, she said, “I thought you'd probably want a status report. I've been wandering around with Jim, and...”

   “Jim?” Scott asked.

   “Chief Kowalski,” Santiago continued. “We're just about finished the exterior work on the sensors, so it's just a matter of calibration. We ought to be back to full capability in an hour or so, unless something unexpected crops up. I've already got work teams having a look at the superstructure, and damage control is dealing with the micro-fractures.” Turning to Marshall, she added, “Don't take this girl that deep into atmosphere again. You're damned lucky she didn't fall apart on you. She was never meant to take hull stresses that severe.”

   “Excuse me?” McCormack asked. “I don't even know...”

   “Given that your engineering teams didn't have anyone in charge, I figured I'd step in as Systems Officer. Unless you'd rather have a collection of warring Petty Officers fighting it out for supremacy down there. I swear, sometimes it's like trying to herd cats. Jim's good, but he can't be everywhere at once, and we're having enough trouble getting the shuttles repaired. Dante's dust isn't good for the exterior components.”

   “I guess we've got a new Systems Officer,” Marshall said with a smile. “I doubt very much that Sub-Lieutenant Lombardo will have any objection. Bottom line, Chief. How long before we're back to full strength?”

   “Twenty hours, skipper. I'll need that long to complete all the diagnostic checks. There's a hell of a backlog from the wormhole passage to deal with, but I don't see any reason why we shouldn't be fit for battle by then.”

   “Of course,” Caine said, “Waldheim will have repaired her heat radiators by then. Which means that next time, we'll be facing a laser cannon. Maybe we should attack now, while we have a tactical advantage.”

   “Boom,” Santiago said. “Because that's what's going to happen if one warhead hits in the wrong spot before I've finished checking over the armor. You can't treat ships that way. Right now, at this moment, we're flying around in a glass fist. She might get in one good blow, but she'll smash herself to pieces doing it.” Looking at Marshall, she asked, “Hate to say it, but this might be a good time to give peace a chance.”

&n
bsp;  “We've tried,” Caine replied. “We can't get a signal through.”

   “Then let's get the hell out of the system,” Santiago said, bluntly. “There's nothing here worth fighting for, and all the information we've gathered makes it clear that this wormhole is only one-way. As soon as our surface teams have finished their job, we get out of here.”

   “With Waldheim right on our tail,” Scott said.

   “It's a big galaxy, Sub-Lieutenant,” Francis replied.

   “Not big enough, sir. The whole reason for the expedition to the surface was to find some sort of a clue. I think we've all guessed that there isn't going to be a way home from here, but we're pinning our hopes that there is a second wormhole within range. That's the basis for our planning, anyway. That means that no matter what we might do, Waldheim is going to be coming after us. They'll be following the same trail of breadcrumbs as us.”

   Nodding, McCormack said, “I like the way you think, Sub-Lieutenant. I think we need to come up with a way to stop them, right here and now, and make sure they can't leave the system. Or at least give us enough time to provide ourselves with a head-start that will keep us in the lead.”

   “And I will say again,” Caine replied, “that Waldheim has every advantage in that fight, and that we're planning on a battle that we have no guarantee of winning. Hell, a Pyrrhic victory would kill us. Even if we managed to take them down, and I don't consider that likely, we would almost certainly experience serious damage. Enough to strand us here forever.” Looking around the room, she said, “In my judgment, the solution is obvious. We pull out of the system as soon as we can, using whatever information we have been able to salvage from the planet. We leave, and we don't look back. There's nothing else we can do.”

   Nodding, Marshall said, “What options do we have?”

   “In the absence of a Science Officer,” Francis began, “I've been working with the Astrogation team, and so far we've found seven stars within range, that appear to have hendecaspace access points. A couple that don't, interestingly enough, which is higher than the usual average back home.” Tapping a control, he brought up a starfield, and added, “One of them is a star not dissimilar to Sol, with a planet in the Goldilocks zone.”

   “Oxygen?”

   “So our spectroscopic analysis reports,” he replied, “though that doesn't necessarily mean a thing. The only way we're going to find out for certain is to go out there and take a look. I'll further note that we have another five stars on from there we could try, and another of them could host a possible habitable planet.”

   “We're going home,” Scott pressed. “The only question...”

   “Sub-Lieutenant,” Francis said, softly, “Mars is four hundred thousand light-years away. The odds of us finding a way back are not promising.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “In my judgment, our safest course of action is to find an inhabitable planet, and use everything we have to establish a colony. I would recommend holding as close as possible to the wormhole, in the likely event that others come through from our galaxy.”

   “Now just a damned minute,” Santiago said. “We can't just give up.”

   “I've only managed a preliminary report,” Francis continued, “but as far as I can work out, Alamo can sustain us for eighteen months without serious difficulty, and perhaps for four or five years with ever-escalating problems, before we'd need to find a way to run a refit. Naturally, that doesn't take into account any battle damage, or encounters with any other phenomenon.”

   Doctor Strickland nodded, and said, “At the request of the Operations Officer, I took a preliminary look at the crew's genetic profile, and while our gene pool is a lot smaller than I would like, assuming we were to maintain a reasonable technological level, I think it at least possible that we could establish a sustainable settlement out here. A hundred and fifty people is marginal, and it would be better if we could add more. If we could come to some sort of agreement with General Estrada...”

   “We're going home,” Marshall said, looking around the room. “I want that absolutely clear, and I want no further question on that point. We're going to find a way to get home, and we're going to do it within our lifetimes. All of our resources and our efforts must be focused on that point, regardless of anything else, and I do not want any discussion of the theoretical establishment of a colony to leave this room. Is that understood.”

   “Sir,” Francis said, leaning forward, “I know that it's a hard thing to have to contemplate, but I don't think you are being realistic. The odds of us finding a way home seem remote, and unless we can come up with some sort of...”

   “Lieutenant, I have made my position on this matter fundamentally clear. Continue to chart potential hendecaspace points, and do the best that you can to prepare our sensor teams for high-speed exploration. We're going to be charting a lot of new stars, and I want to have a nice dossier of information to present when we get home.”

   “Aye, sir,” Francis said, glancing across at Strickland.

   “That's more like it,” Santiago said. “Bartenders on five planets will go into mourning if I don't make it home.”

   “Continue to chart the system, and Scott, I want you to find me a way to break through the interference from Waldheim. Anything you can think of. We need information, and we're starving for a lack of it at present.” Looking around the room, he added, “Dismissed. Lieutenant Francis, Doctor Strickland, could you please remain for a moment?”

   The officers filed out of the briefing room, Caine, Francis and Strickland remaining in their seats, McCormack and Santiago staring at them as they walked out into the corridor. As the doors slid shut, Marshall leaned forward, folding his hands together.

   “Captain,” Francis said, “If I spoke out of line during the meeting, then...”

   “You didn't,” Marshall replied. “In your position, I'd have probably spoken along similar lines. What am I about to say is not to leave this room. Is that clear.” He waited for a second, then said, “I agree with both of you. Our best course of action, almost certainly, is to find a world we can settle, preferably with a system which will provide us with plenty of options for space-based exploitation. To build a new settlement out here in Andromeda.”

   Strickland looked at Francis, then said, “But in the meeting...”

   “Right now, the morale of the crew is on an absolute knife-edge. I never thought I'd be grateful to have a battleship at my throat, but at least it is giving everyone something to think about, something to distract themselves. As soon as the dust settles, we're going to have serious problems. Doctor, while I won't ask you to violate patient confidentiality, I'd be willing to guess that the use of sedatives is already way up.”

   “It is,” he replied. “More than ten times the normal levels, and I think we can expect that to rise in the near future. I'm keeping careful track, sir, and...”

   “There will undoubtedly be at least one, possibly several suicide attempts, once it becomes clear that there is little prospect of us getting home. I'm praying that Salazar and Harper come back from the surface with an answer that will at least buy us some time, but I don't think that we can count on it. The odds of us finding something in the time are marginal, and even if we did, it could be a trail longer than we can run. Suppose the wormhole we're looking for is a thousand light-years away? Four hundred jumps, perhaps. Eight years. Lieutenant, could we manage a trip of that duration?”

   Francis frowned, then said, “I wouldn't want to risk it, sir, especially with no prospect of support. We still haven't picked up any electromagnetic chatter in the local area, which means that there is little likelihood of technological life in this region. And anything we found would certainly redefine the meaning of the term 'alien'.”

   “Not necessarily,” Caine replied. “There's a definite chance that we weren't the first to fall through. Humans have been flying through space for tens of thousands of years, and given that we
know of at least two major interstellar wars over the last thirty thousand years, it seems reasonable that the wormhole might have been considered as a refuge, a last hiding place for a dying civilization. Anything could be out here.” Turning to Marshall, she added, “I think we should definitely seek out inhabitable worlds, Danny, and that we can have a realistic expectation of finding humans on some of them. Especially those close to the wormhole. If we could join an existing settlement, it would certainly solve Doctor Strickland's genetic problem.”

   “If we're going to take that option,” Marshall said, “then we have to give the crew time to get used to the idea. Because if we do end up colonizing, it will mean cannibalizing Alamo. We'll only get one shot at it, and there will be no turning back. So for the present, we will continue with our search for another way home, whilst keeping in mind the potential prospects of colonization. For now, that's all we can do. That's all. Dismissed.”

   “Yes, sir,” Francis said, and he and Strickland rose to attention before leaving the room, Caine still sitting in her chair, looking at Marshall.

   “Could you give that order?” she asked. “Force the crew to abandon their hopes of ever getting home? I'm not sure I could do it.”

   “We might not have a choice,” he replied. “I don't think this is a situation that has arisen since the earliest days of interstellar travel. The idea that we might be unable to make it home, and that there is no prospect of rescue is a damned tough one to take.” Gesturing up at the holoprojection, he added, “For the moment, all of this is academic. We've got to find a way to get past that damned battleship. Any ideas?”

  Chapter 15

   Salazar's head pounded as he walked across the plain, Garland's protests still ringing in his ears. Rhodes had insisted on taking point for the patrol, leading a thin column of troops across the desert wasteland, moving beneath a ridge line to the higher ground to the north. From there, if their topographical maps were accurate, they'd be able to get a perfect view of the environment.