Battlecruiser Alamo: Ghost Ship

by Richard Tongue

   Twenty to go, and he almost fell again as he misjudged the wood, finding a weak spot that sent splinters flying into the air. With an effort, he tugged himself back, reaching for the wood once again, and continued to climb, onwards and upwards, hand over hand. The wind was growing fearsome, chilling him to the bone and sending him shivering once again. Then he saw something that made the climb worthwhile, as he broke through the thick leaves of the canopy and reached the top.

   It was as if he could see the whole world, an unbroken landscape of black leaves in every direction, broken only by the lapping green sea in the distance. Two moons were in the sky as the sun began to set, boiling away into the horizon while he watched, and he had to pause for a moment to breathe, and to absorb the view. There was no way to tell what was happening below, but that didn’t matter. Everything he needed was up here.

   He untied the rope from his belt, securing it to the tree, tugging at it with all his weight; up here, the slime was barely present, easy to scrape away with a few hacks from his knife. Looking across at the sea again, he could see the complex ahead; two more step-pyramids next to each other, sending plumes of steam and smoke rising into the sky. Gaxric had briefed him carefully which was which, and he set up his laser pointer to target the top of drug manufacturing plant, throwing the link-up to Alamo.

   Pulling out his datapad, he linked up with the targeting computer in orbit, setting up a direct link with the feed, and smiled. At some point in the near future, a series of missiles would swoop down like avenging angels and wipe out the biggest problem this planet faced.

   “Logan to Alamo,” he said into his communicator. “Do you copy?”

   “Nelyubov here,” an unfamiliar voice replied. “We’ve got the telemetry feed now, Captain. Just leave it set up, and our birds will get the target you want.”

   “Will do. I’ve got to camouflage it now; squawk if you get any interruption in signal. Out.”

   He nestled the pointer amid a pile of leaves, smearing some of the ubiquitous mud over it, and tweaked a few twigs to hold it in position. After a moment, he was having difficulty working out where it was, and with any luck, no-one coming up here would be able to find it. He paused for a second, then placed his datapad in plain sight at the top of the tree, nestling it amid a few leaves, setting up the signal booster to strengthen the laser.

   Satisfied with his work, he replaced his communicator in his pocket, snapped the blades of his knives into position and tucked the in the secret pockets of his jumpsuit, then tugged the rope once more to make sure it would support him. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and slid them on, struggling over the numb fingers.

   With one last, regretful look, he dipped down out of the canopy, dropping down the rope a few feet at a time, kicking off against the trunk as he descended. There was no noise from below, no sound at all other than the thud of his boots against the tree, over and over. When he reached the bottom, he swung the rope up as high as he could, tangling it in the branches to stop anyone follow him, then heard a loud click from behind.

   He lifted his hands slower to the air, and turned to see a woman holding a rifle pointed at him, muttering something under her breath. Over in the shadows, Singh and Gaxric were standing, also trapped; the woman gestured one of the other guards to climb up the tree, untangling the rope and pulling himself up. Logan looked after him, and smiled when he returned a few moments later, clutching his datapad.

   The woman waved it in his face, shouting something he couldn’t understand; when she gestured towards the main trial with her rifle, he understood that quite clearly, and made his way over, walking in step with Singh and Gaxric.

   “They’ve got the datapad,” Gaxric said, sighing. “Now what?”

   “I’m sure that our friends will be able to get their strike information from somewhere,” he replied. “I just hope that the cells on this planet have hot showers.”

   “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Singh replied.

   Glancing at his watch, Logan said, “Never mind. With a little luck, all of this will be over in a few hours. It might be time to do a little praying.”

   “For what?”

   “That the guard house isn’t attached to the drug processing plant.”

  Chapter 22

   Orlova glanced up at the clock on the shuttle, counting seconds, and running through the timeline of Logan’s commando raid on the surface. If something went wrong with his mission, hers was going to become extremely difficult in a very short time. Shaking her head, she glanced down at the scanner; her shuttle was in the firing arcs of a dozen extremely jumpy ships, and she doubted the ability of her equipment to counteract most of them.

   “Don’t worry, Maggie, we can hold them,” Harper said, typing furiously into the countermeasures station over the co-pilot’s seat, text dribbling down her display.

   “That you are still writing code doesn’t fill me with confidence,” she replied.

   “No great work of art is ever finished,” the hacker replied. “I’m pretty sure I can knock some of them down. We can feed data at them a lot faster than they can process it. Hell, I should have thought of it before.”

   “Will it work?” Orlova asked, frowning.

   “Probably. Let’s just hope we don’t get a chance to find out.” Glancing across at another panel, she said, “Big Chief’s calling.”

   Pulling a headset on, Orlova said, “Orlova to Alamo Actual.”

   “Maggie, I’ve just finished settling matters with Tolxac. He’s agreed to come on board as tactical liaison, which means that your insertion is go. Make this quick and easy – grab him and get home as fast as you can. I want you up on the bridge and I need Cooper’s assault team back in one piece. Understood?”

   “Yes, sir. Any word from the surface?”

   She could almost hear him frowning as he replied, “Not yet. We’re still listening, but the laser targeter is set and working for the surprise package.”

   “Let’s hope that’s good news.”

   “We’ll be waiting for you to give us some more. Alamo out.”

   Tapping another control, Orlova said, “Cooper, are you all set back there?”

   “Ready as we’ll ever me, Lieutenant,” he replied. “How are we doing this?”

   “The easy way at the moment. Forrest and Talbert to accompany me in, the rest of you with weapons hot and ready, just in case. Don’t come in unless I give the signal, though. Right now we’re on a diplomatic mission and it would be nice to keep it that way.”

   “I’ve been reading up my textbooks, Lieutenant,” Cooper said. “Turns out war is the extension of diplomacy by other means.”

   “That’s politics, Ensign,” she replied. “And I think we’re going to be extending it a hell of a lot if this goes wrong. Three minutes to docking.”

   She checked the autopilot again, tracking it on course to Guardian Station, and then started work on the return course, programming a course notable simply for speed. No measures to preserve fuel, no graceful maneuvering, just a brute-force high-acceleration return to Alamo. Up in its higher orbit, the ship was at battle stations, ready just in case Haven’s forces decided to try anything before they were quite ready.

   A series of lights flashed up, and the shuttle moved into position by the airlock. Unclipping her restraints, she drifted back into the passenger cabin while Harper watched, surprised.

   “I guess I have the controls,” she said.

   “Don’t touch anything,” she replied. “If in doubt, lock controls over to Alamo and one of the pilots can get you home.”

   “How hard can it be?”

   “Keep talking like that and I’ll let you find out the hard way.”

   In the rear compartment, the Espatiers were waiting for her. Two of them, Forrest and Talbert, were wearing their full dress uniforms, while the remainder were wearing their combat fatigues, crouching out of sight at t
he back of the cabin. She could explain away two guards as a normal escort, but a full squad would have been rather too much.

   The door cranked open, and a trio of men were waiting on the other side, weapons slung over their shoulders. One of them gestured into the module, and she smiled, following them in. This could easily be a trap, but there hadn’t been much choice but to risk springing it. At all cost, they had to get a senior figure in the government of Haven on Alamo, and Tolxac was by far the most accessible – with the advantage that he spoke English.

   She drifted through the now-familiar module, the two guards at her back, allowing herself to be guided past the crowds. Last time, they had ignored her, but this time, there was an obvious undertone of hostility, and one she couldn’t wonder it. Because of her actions, all of them had been put at risk.

   The group drifted through the hatch, and Tolxac floated on the other side, his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face. He waved his guards to disperse, and they drifted away into corner; Orlova noted that they were positioned for a field of fire that would cover her, Forrest and Talbert nicely.

   “What did you think you were doing on that spacecraft?” he said, shaking his head.

   “We asked – several times – for access, and you refused it…,” she began.

   “So you just decided to help yourselves?” he interrupted.

   Locking his eyes, she said, “We have captured people in that Enemy fleet, Tolxac, people we are going to get back. If that means taking hostages, then we’ll do it, if it means a prisoner exchange before the battle, then that’s fine with me as well.”

   “Our people…”

   “So far, Tolxac, you haven’t exactly been open and honest with us, have you?” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Do you want this war to be over? Do you? Because if so, you’re going to need our help to pull it off. You have volunteered to come over to Alamo to help co-ordinate the battle, but if we’re going to be exchanging insults instead, I’ll just go. We both have more important things to be doing.”

   “No more surprises,” he said, pointing at her. “If our need wasn’t so great, I’d take great pleasure in throwing the three of you out of the nearest airlock.” One of his aides was waving at him, and he said, “One moment. I’ll go and deal with this, then come with you.”

   The aide muttered something at him, and Tolxac nodded, his eyes widening. Orlova didn’t need a translation to know what was coming next. Logan had been caught, and there was about to be a rather nasty firefight. She glanced around the room, hoping that the bulkheads were bulletproof, and reached down to her side, tapping a pulse signal back to the shuttle, alerting Cooper to be ready to move.

   Much to her surprise, Tolxac drifted forward, and said, “I think we’re ready now. Just a few last minute bits and pieces. Let me assure you that you are about to see the most impressive space fleet in existence operating at its full potential.”

   “I’m sure of the skill of your people,” Orlova said, looking around. “They’ve had far too much experience, I fear. As have ours.”

   Still surprised that bullets weren’t flying all over the place, she pushed back into the entry module, Tolxac following her with a briefcase clutched in his hand, the two Espatiers taking up the rear. She looked around, and caught a quick glimpse of metal in the hands of one of the crowd, and managed to suppress a reaction. It was a trap, just a clever one. Unfortunately for them, she had no intention of simply allowing it to be sprung, and tapped twice on her communicator.

   In less than a minute, she saw movement around the airlock, and she reached down into her belt for her pistol, spinning around in the air to cover Tolxac. His expression harbored no surprise, only resentment.

   “Keep moving,” she said. “You’re coming with us.” All around, weapons appeared in the hands of the technicians, moving to cover the four of them, and she looked Tolxac in the eyes, saying, “No one has to die today. If we open up, most of the people in this module will be casualties.”

   “Including you and your men,” he replied.

   “Suppose we start working out who would lose most out of that exchange.”

   He looked around, shook his head, and complied, the rest of the guards keeping their gaze fixed on the slowly moving party in the center of the module, gently drifting down the axis. Forrest and Talbert had their guns out, pointing from one target to another, ready to sell their lives as expensively as possible should it be needed.

   Her communicator chirped, and keeping her attention focused on Tolxac, she pulled it out of her pocket and said, “Orlova here.”

   “They’ve got Logan,” Marshall’s voice said. “Just got the word from the surface. Have you got the package?”

   “We’ll be aboard the shuttle in sixty seconds.”

   “Alamo’s on the way to get you, missiles hot. You’ve got a lot of ships heading your way.”

   “I guess we get to see how good Harper is, then. Orlova out.”

   As they moved into the airlock, Tolxac said, “This won’t do you any good. Taking me as a hostage isn’t going to help a damn thing, and we both know it. They won’t hold their fire to protect me.”

   “We aren’t taking you hostage,” she said. “We want you for the purposes of tactical co-ordination, just as I said. We still want to bring this damn war to an end.”

   “I will not talk under interrogation. I will die first.”

   “Stop parroting slogans,” she snapped. “Forrest, take him to the passenger compartment and sit on him. Make sure to search him for weapons, and be thorough.”

   “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, as Cooper’s force slowly ducked back into the shuttle, the young officer the last man through the airlock, pointing his pistol dangerously around as the crowd seemed to close in towards him.

   “We’re all in, Maggie,” he said, and she hastily dived forwards into the cabin. Harper was busily throwing switches, still furiously typing, and the heads-up display flashed up a series of projected targeting solutions.

   “Hit the explosive bolts,” she said, tapping in a sequence of commands. “And get ready to see if those countermeasures work.”

   She didn’t think for a moment that the controllers on the station would simply give her permission to launch; there didn’t seem to be any point even in asking, and with a worryingly loud bang, the shuttle ripped itself clear of the hull, Quinn’s prepared charges doing their job. She looked across at the station, and while there was a substantial gouge, there was no sign of an atmosphere leak.

   The main engines fired, throwing her back in her seat, and immediately alarms began to sound as threat warnings flashed up on the display. Within a few seconds of them launching, five missiles were in the air; evidently Tolxac was quite correct about the value the fleet placed on his life.

   “Start hacking!” she yelled, and Harper turned with a grin.

   “I don’t need any orders for that!”

   Orlova’s hands danced across the controls, inputting updates to the flight program as the shuttle raced for its target. Up ahead, Alamo was on the move, building up speed as it swooped down to get her before pulling away from the planet; she glanced down at the black and green world, cursing that she’d missed out on a chance to go down, and then looked back up at the display.

   Another six missiles were in the air, but this batch was friendly, Alamo launching an escort to protect the shuttle. So far, no-one had opted to shoot at the battlecruiser, but whether that was because no-one had thought of it yet or their intentions were only targeted at the shuttle, Orlova couldn’t say.

   “Energy spike!” Harper yelled. “Thirteen...no, sixteen incoming missiles, heading right for us.”

   “That’s going to overwhelm Alamo’s missile screen. Better get working.”

   “What do you think I’ve been doing?” the hacker yelled back, turning to her station.

   Orlova rested her fingers on the contr
ols, watching the missiles inexorably curve in towards the shuttle. Compared to Triplanetary missiles, they were slow, sluggish to turn, but they were still catching up. Two minutes to impact. She threw the control switches on the physical countermeasures, but she knew that it was just for form’s sake, that it would make little difference. One or two she might be able to deal with, but they were coming in waves now.

   She looked across at Harper, feeling a tinge of regret for bringing her along on this mission. The young hacker had volunteered, but she could have left her behind. At least she was working until the last, even if she hadn’t been able to pull a last-minute magic trick out of her hat this time. A series of terribly final warning alarms began to sound, and she looked across to the sensor display.

   “More energy spikes,” Harper said, shaking her head. “Another twenty-one.”

   Orlova looked up, frowned, then smiled, saying, “They’re going for the missiles, not for us!”

   “Alamo…”

   Throwing a series of switches, she widened the field of the sensor display, revealing dozens more ships coming in; the Seeker fleet had arrived, and someone had managed to convince them to give the shuttle some covering fire.

   The communicator crackled, and Marshall’s voice said, “You can relax now, Maggie. You should be clear all the way home.”

   “Haven’s ships are falling back, moving into a defensive posture,” Harper said.

   “What about the Seeker ships? Are they pressing the attack?”

   “No, not yet. They’re only going for the missiles that were targeted as us.”

   “A Mexican standoff,” she replied. “Each side’s waiting for the other to make the first move, hoping that they can beat the other to the draw.”