Battlecruiser Alamo: Not In My Name

by Richard Tongue

   “Understood, Doc.” Marshall shook his head, and said, “This happens too damn often.”

   “Hey, that’s my line, Skipper,” she replied. “Maybe you’re beginning to learn yet.”

   Clapping her gently on the shoulder, he said, “You never did need to teach me. I’d be far happier if you were out of a job. Though don’t take that the wrong way.”

   “I wouldn’t complain about never having to treat anything more serious than a broken finger again.” She shook her head, and said, “You might want to have a word with Salazar at some point.”

   “Oh?”

   “He was in here during the whole procedure, out in the gallery. And afterward, as well. I had to get Joe Kibaki to take him back to his quarters, though the kid was about to drop. I think it got to him.”

   Nodding, Marshall said, “I’ll see if I can straighten him out. Keep me informed about any changes, and I’d like to know when she wakes up.” He glanced down at Orlova again, and said, “And please tell her that the ship is safe and that everything is fine.”

   “Don’t make my lie to my patients,” Duquesne said. “We both know that isn’t true.”

   Turning on her heels, the doctor walked away to her office, the door closing shut behind her. Marshall looked back to Orlova again, shaking his head.

   “I thought I’d find you here,” Caine said, walking into the ward. “I got the report. I figured you’d be seeing for yourself.”

   “She was a few millimeters from death, Deadeye,” he said. “One slight twitch by that guard, and we’d be burying two people today.”

   Nodding, she replied, “They both knew the risks. I’ve arranged the funeral for tomorrow, 2100. He wanted to be buried in space.”

   “Thanks,” he said. “I should have dealt with that.”

   “You’ve had a lot on your mind.” She paused, then said, “I think it’s time to tell the others. I’ve called a staff meeting for ten minutes from now.”

   “For someone who doesn’t want the job, you make a pretty damn good Exec.”

   She shrugged, and said, “Bossing people about when everything is quiet isn’t difficult. Just don’t give me the hot seat again.” As the two of them started to walk down the corridor to the elevator, she continued, “You’ve got a decision to make, and you really need to make it now.”

   “An Acting Operations Officer,” he replied.

   “As far as I can see, you’ve got the decision you want to make, and the decision the regulations say that you should make. The question is which you are going to choose.”

   “I know what you are going to suggest.”

   “Give it to Frank. He can double up on both Operations and Security, with Harper to ride shotgun on the hackers. I wouldn’t trust her to run a department, but she’s probably up to keeping an eye on things. Or you could let Chief Washington handle Security for a bit.”

   “Grant is Assistant Operations Officer.”

   “Which we both know is a non-job.”

   “That doesn’t make a difference, does it? He’s got that job, and if I don’t move him up, it’s going to hurt his record. He deserves a fair chance…”

   “I’m thinking about the ship,” Caine said, as the two of them stepped into the elevator.

   Marshall paused, and said, “If this was a permanent arrangement, I’d pick Frank. No question. Maggie will be up and about in a few weeks, though, ready to take it on again. Given that, I don’t see that I really have a choice on this one.”

   “You’re the Captain,” she replied. “Which means you always get to make a choice.”

   “And I’ve made it.” He sighed, pulled out his communicator, and said, “Harper, I’d like you to report to the briefing room on the double.”

   There was a slight pause, and the hacker replied, “On my way. I can guess what this is about, but can’t it wait until we hit hendecaspace?”

   “Not under the circumstances,” he replied. “I’ll be vague on the details, though, as much as I can be.”

   “Aye, sir,” she said.

   Caine frowned, and said, “She might have a point, Danny.”

   “Maybe. But I’ve got a team of good officers, and I need to get them working this problem. Besides, if this hadn’t been made such a big damn secret, the false-flag tactic wouldn’t be effective in the first place.”

   The doors opened, and Marshall stepped out into the corridor, a technician saluting the two of them before darting into the elevator. Caine paused to let him pass, then followed him to the briefing room. Grant, Cooper and Nelyubov were already waiting for him, and Quinn walked in with Race a couple of strides behind.

   “We’ll get this underway right now,” Marshall said. “The first order of business concerns Senior Lieutenant Orlova. I presume you’ve all read the precis of the medical report. The short version is that she’s going to recover, but that it is going to take time. Which means I need to appoint someone to cover for her.” Nelyubov glanced at Grant, who ignored the stare. “As second-in-command of that department, that falls to Lieutenant Grant.”

   “Aye, sir,” Grant said, now returning the look to Nelyubov. “I will do my best to make sure that everything runs as smoothly as possible.”

   “Keep things ticking over,” Caine said. “Maggie will be back on her feet in less than a fortnight, so this only takes effect until then.”

   His face dropped, and Nelyubov added, “I’ll help out in any way I can, of course.”

   “That won’t be necessary,” Grant snapped, and Marshall felt a tinge of regret at his choice. Not that he could think of any alternative, and for all his faults, Grant was at least an efficient officer.

   Quinn looked around the room, and asked the question Marshall was sure was on everyone’s minds, “Sir, what are we doing here?”

   Harper walked in, taking a seat by the door, with Meirong behind her. Marshall frowned as the Republic agent walked in, but that was nothing compared to the reactions from the rest of the room.

   “What is this, sir?” Race asked.

   “We're on a secret mission,” Grant began, but the agent interrupted him.

   “Largely because of intelligence gathered by my government,” Meirong said. “As such, I have a right to be here, and I am needed here. Unless you would rather blunder into battle blind?”

   “Speaking personally,” Cooper said. “I’ll listen to whatever she has to say.”

   Looking around the room, Marshall said, “We’re heading for Luyten’s Star.”

   “What’s there?” Grant asked.

   Taking a deep breath, Harper said, “A secret UN outpost and a ship that is a slightly better version of the one we fought at Yeager Station, probably manned by the not-men, which means they’ll have some of those weapons we faced last time. I’ve got blueprints of the outpost, but I can’t tell you anything else.”

   With a smile, Caine said, “Eighteen seconds. Fastest tactical briefing I ever had. You ought to get an award.”

   “We’re attacking a UN outpost?” Quinn said. “Isn’t that, well, an act of war?”

   “They attacked us,” Marshall replied, “and besides, our belief is that this station has already been suborned. I’m not authorized to go into any details on this, but based on the intelligence I have, we can expect this one to go without any retaliation.”

   “That’s a pretty big risk,” Grant said.

   “If we want to avoid a war, we don't have a choice,” Meirong said.

   “I agree,” Marshall said. “That decision has already been taken, I want to make that clear. This meeting is about ways and means, nothing more, and I want to get you all thinking on this one.”

   “We’ll need the drone fighters,” Grant replied. “That much is clear. Sir, I volunteer to fly them.”

   “I’ll consider that,” Marshall replied. “I haven’t made a decision on that yet.”

>    Leaning forward, Grant pressed, “I’ll need all the training time I can get.”

   “Then go ahead and hit the simulators,” Caine suggested. “No-one’s stopping you from getting started, or are you afraid that it will be a waste of time?”

   “I’m the best-qualified pilot on this ship,” Grant said. “That’s all.”

   “As I said, that decision will be made later, but before we leave the system. The use of the drone fighters is a given, and should help at least even the odds in a fighter duel. What worries me is that there is liable to be more to it than that.”

   “I don’t think we dare presume that the enemy won’t have one of their ships present as well,” Caine said. “Which means that this is two ships against two ships, with a station to back them up.”

   “A slightly unusual one,” Harper added. “It’s planet-side, not space-based. Easier to conceal that way.”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “Which means that I’m going to have boots on the ground. I’ll take three squads.”

   “Why not all of them,” Quinn said, before nodding, and saying, “Shuttle capacity.”

   “Exactly. I’ll take Third and Forth, and reinforce from First to replace our losses to this point. This one is going to take longer.”

   “We’ll give you some time to set up, but there’s no way that you’ll get surprise this time,” Marshall said.

   “They might know that we’re coming, but they won’t know where and when. We’ve had a chance to re-learn surface combat, and I think we can put that into practice.”

   Grant nodded, and said, “It would help to co-ordinate the attack if you could outline your plans to us.”

   “I would if I’d made them. It’ll come down to a lot of factors, but we’ll be there when you need us. I think we can handle the ground side of it.” Looking around the room, he said, “Frankly, in this grunt’s opinion, you’re going to have a tougher time of it in space.”

   “They’ll deploy their laser-missiles against us again,” Race said.

   “I’ve thought of that,” Caine said. “We’ll set up a taxi-rank of missiles again, have some of them orbiting Alamo ready for the attack. The trick is going to be making sure we press this home at a time and place of our choosing.”

   “Might it be better for us to focus on the enemy warship, rather than the carrier?” Quinn asked. “The fighters can do damage, but one of those lasers would finish us off with one shot if it hit true.”

   “I’ll feed the details from our battle with Yeager Station into the simulators,” Grant said. “See what I can come up with. We can presume that the carrier won’t be armed.”

   “Not if it matches our specs,” Harper said.

   “That is also my judgment,” Meirong added. “My advice would be to launch your attack in stages, to attract the maximum attention.”

   Cooper looked at her, replying, “Just call me Ensign Decoy.”

   “Actually, I was thinking that the fighters might be more suitable for that. After all, they are, as I understand it, designed largely to be expendable.”

   “A suicide run?” Marshall asked. “That’s a waste of twelve missiles. No, we’ll go for a coordinated attack.” He looked around the room, and said, “I want some way of dealing with those laser missiles. We can assume we’re going up against them, and we need an option that will solve the problem. You’ve got until we arrive to come up with something. All of you are combat veterans, all of you know what we’re facing, so I’m putting you all on the hot seat. Find a way to make it happen.”

   Caine glanced at Quinn, and said, “We’ll put our heads together. I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

   “I’ll be drawing quite a bit of fabrication time in the next few days,” Cooper said. “We’ll need new uniforms, the right sort of camo pattern. Have we data on the local terrain?”

   “I’ve got some pictures,” Harper volunteered.

   “Perfect. We can do this, sir.”

   “Good. I expect reports soon. Dismissed.” The officers rose, walking out of the room, Meirong leading the way, chatting to Harper as she went back to her hiding place. Marshall watched them go, then looked down at the tactical report on his datapad. One man dead already on this mission. How many more before it was over?

  Chapter 11

   Grant sat in the command chair, looking over Salazar’s shoulder as he completed the preparations for the hendecaspace jump. Regulations specified that a senior officer had to be present for any dimensional transition, and Grant had volunteered with unsurprising eagerness. Looking down at his status board, he watched the last few monitor lights flash from red to green, the remaining departments indicating their readiness for the jump.

   “I have a green board,” he said. “All departments are ready.”

   Spinelli nodded, saying, “Sensors are clear.”

   “Very well,” Grant said. “Midshipman, you have the call.”

   Salazar resisted the urge to point out that he should have given that order. A lecture on the chain of command would not be received well at this point. Instead, he sat at his console, attempting to quietly seethe.

   “Aye, sir,” Foster said, working her station. “I have the call.”

   He looked over. watching her work, and she flashed him with a look of contempt. Pretending not to notice it, he started to run a series of double-checks, making sure the jump calculations were all in the system. Everything seemed to be fine, the ship ready to make to translation to another dimension, something which gave him the shivers every time he thought about it.

   Then one of the lights flashed from green to amber, and he started to run the check program. Something with the communications systems, increased power load. Less than twenty seconds to go before the jump.

   “I have an amber light,” he said. “Communications.”

   “Recommendations?”

   “We’re still go, I think, sir.”

   “Then mind your station, Sub-Lieutenant,” Grant said, his eyes locked on the screen. “If something isn’t a problem, log it and deal with it later.”

   Frowning, he continued to run the checks. Someone was sending a message, and a pretty big one, heavily encrypted. Enough that it was taking up quite a proportion of the ship’s bandwidth.

   “Weitzman, check for transmissions,” he said.

   “I’m not picking anything up, sir,” the technician replied.

   “I have the bridge, Salazar,” Grant said.

   “Ten seconds,” Foster said.

   “I think there’s something wrong, sir. My board shows a high-density transmission, and if Weitzman’s doesn’t…”

   “Then there may be some malfunction with your console, and even if there isn’t, it won’t affect the jump!”

   Foster glanced back, and said, “Five seconds.”

   “Abort, Midshipman,” Salazar said, but before she could act, Grant leapt from his seat.

   “Belay that order. Execute jump.”

   “Sir,” Salazar said. “I…”

   “You are relieved! Clear the bridge!”

   With a flash of blinding light, Alamo jumped into hendecaspace, and the transmission terminated. He quickly ran through the logs, shaking his head.

   “It’s gone.”

   “Or it was never there,” Foster said.

   “I will report your insubordination to the Captain,” Grant said. “In the meantime, you are off the bridge. And if I have anything to say about it, you will stay that way. Leave the bridge.”

   Without a word, Salazar logged off his station and walked around the corridor to the elevator. This had a familiar ring to it, but the last time it had happened, in his heart he knew why, knew that he had deserved it. This was different. Erickson looked up at him as he walked past her station, moved to follow him, but he shook his head. Bad enough that he was in the doghouse, without the rest of
the shift following suit.

   Stepping into the elevator, he pushed for his quarters, but then changed his mind, tapping for the simulator suite. Blowing up a few bad guys might help settle his nerves a little. He looked down at his datapad, scanning through the bridge logs. First there was something there, and then it was missing. There had been an amber light, though, and he was convinced that a message was being sent. Not that it would matter. Grant was acting Operations Officer, and it would take a solid reason for anyone to override his decisions. Even the Captain.

   The door opened on a quiet deck. Most of the ship was on sleep cycle at the moment, but he could hear activity in the simulator room, at the far end of the corridor. Stepping into the room, he could see one of the two pods in use, with Ensign Cooper leaning on the wall, watching a projection of a battle in progress.

   “Salazar, isn’t it?” he asked. “Aren’t you on the bridge?”

   “It’s a long story,” Salazar replied.

   “Grant relieved you?” Cooper said, shaking his head. “What’s his problem?”

   “I killed two of his pilots. That’s probably enough to sour anyone’s disposition.”

   The display faded to black, and one of the pods opened, Bradley stepping out. She looked at him, shook her head, and walked over to Cooper.

   “Barbara Bradley?” Salazar said. “I knew that you were on board, but I hadn’t had time…”

   “We’ve all been busy. Besides, we weren’t in the same class.” She glanced across at Cooper, and said, “I was there, Sub-Lieutenant, and I saw what happened. You might have more friends out there than you knew.”

   “Two people under my command…”

   She sighed, then said, “The instructors shouldn’t have thrown you in at the deep end like that. It wasn’t fair on you, and it certainly wasn’t fair on the others. You paid for their screw-up, and you know it. Always the same with the chair-warmers. Things are different out here, and I’ve heard nothing but good things about you since you arrived.”