Battlecruiser Alamo: Not In My Name

by Richard Tongue

   “Salazar kills two cadets and steals a shuttle to take a suicide strike against an enemy, and he gets promoted. I do my duty, and I’m told that I am not performing well enough to get a commission. This is insane. I can file reports too, ma’am, and rest assured I will.”

   “Mr. Salazar seems to have no problem with your performance,” Orlova replied. “If you want to complain to your mother, then that’s your business.”

   “Wait a moment,” Salazar said. “There is no need to have this discussion. As things stand I will be signing off on her Form Nine-Oh. I can’t fault her performance at her station, and I won’t stop someone speaking their mind, as long as they do it at the right place at the right time. This qualifies.”

   “Giving me orders now, Sub-Lieutenant?” Orlova said with a wry smile. “Consider yourself fortunate with your choice of watch officers, Midshipman, but be very, very careful attaching yourself too closely to Grant.”

   “Permission to leave?” she asked.

   “Dismissed.” Orlova watched her go, then turned to Salazar, and said, “She won’t be anything like as loyal to you, you know.”

   “It’s the uniform she has to be loyal to, not me. If we’re at the point when people will only follow officers they like into battle, we’ve got problems.”

   With a sigh, Orlova replied, “Oh, Sub-Lieutenant, it isn’t as simple as that. Wait until you get your turn in the hot seat, and you’ll know what it’s really about. You can give men orders, and they will obey them, but getting the best out of the people under you takes a damn sight more than simply barking orders.” She tapped her rank insignia and said, “This gives you respect, but you’ve got to earn it.”

   Frowning, Salazar said, “I don’t understand.”

   “You will. One day. It isn’t really something you can be taught. Never mind about Foster, anyway. I want to talk about you.”

   “I’m fine, ma’am.”

   “No you aren’t,” she said. “Too hell with that simulation, Grant stacked the decks against you in half a dozen ways. I saw the tapes from your last flight. Don’t get me wrong, it was an impressive performance, but…”

   “I almost lost it,” he replied. “There were a few moments, seconds, when I thought that it was all falling apart. When I saw that third shuttle arcing over in the higher orbit.”

   “The control interface isn’t designed to handle two clusters of fighters at once. It’s just a prototype, an engineering testbed. No-one thought that it would ever be handling a serious battle. You did well to keep it together at all.”

   Shaking his head, he said, “I almost threw the mission. If I’d failed, we would have been detected, and the plan would have collapsed. Right now we’d be on our way out of the system, running for home.”

   “With the best will in the world, Pavel, you can’t win them all. Sometimes the odds are too high, and the only option left on the table is to take in your chips and walk away. I learned that the hard way.”

   Sitting back down in the simulator, Salazar replied, “I’ve got to win this one, ma’am. We’re committed, and the team on the surface certainly is. Lieutenant Grant might have a point.”

   “Do you think he is better qualified to sit in that fighter? Be honest, no modesty.”

   “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

   “Then you’re going to have to do, Pavel, because you’re the best one we’ve got. In a little under six days from now you’re going to be riding fire, flying out to meet the enemy in toe-to-toe combat. You’ve got a lot of advantages to play with, remember that.”

   “It’s just...flying six fighters at once.”

   “Why didn’t you have your co-pilot with you today?”

   “She couldn’t be released from bridge duty.”

   Orlova closed her eyes, softly swearing in three languages, and said, “I’ll sort that out, at least. We’re just sitting here, and it isn’t as if there aren’t other people who can ride the Flight Engineer’s seat on the bridge.”

   “How do you do this, ma’am?” he asked.

   She smiled, and said, “I suppose I didn’t really think about it in those terms. When it really counts, you don’t have time to sit back and ponder the deeper meanings of what you are doing, no time to work out if you are good enough or not. You just do your job.”

   “But…”

   “A split-second can mean the difference between life and death, not just for you, but for everyone else around you. There isn’t time for you to think, only to act. That’s why we train your instincts, to make sure that when the moment of decision comes, you do the right thing.” She paused, then said, “I’ve seen you in action. Back at Yeager Station, but more importantly, on the bridge during the fight with Caledonia.”

   “I’ve never been more nervous in my life,” he said, “as when I sounded that battle stations alarm. All I had to go on was a gut feeling.”

   “You were right, though, weren’t you? You gave us a thirty-second head-start that made all the difference when it came to the punch. Foster would have called for back-up. Grant would have said no.”

   “What would you have done?”

   A grin spreading across her face, she said, “Honestly? I’d have gone to full alert stations about thirty seconds before you did. Hitting that button might scare the hell out of everyone, but if the only cost of a false alarm is a red-faced duty officer, that seems like a pretty small price to pay to me.”

   Glancing down, he replied, “I guess I didn’t think of it in those terms.”

   “You made it, Pavel. You got your commission, and you are now an officer in the Triplanetary Fleet. Both of which you have earned.”

   “Two men…”

   “We make mistakes. None of us is perfect. Not you, not I, not even the Captain. Though don’t let that get around. All of us make errors, and the curse of being an officer is that it is far more likely that someone will pay the ultimate price for those mistakes. I’m afraid that’s part of the curse. Did you read up about my trip on Hercules?”

   “I saw the movie.”

   Her cheeks flushing red, she replied, “Not a way to get into my good books, Sub-Lieutenant. That thing was a travesty. Did you read the after-action reports?”

   “No, they were classified.”

   “You’ve got clearance now. Take a look. I lost crewmen, lost people that I was responsible for. I told them that I would get them home, and I failed them.” Sitting straighter, she continued, “I’ve got to live with that, for the rest of my life. Just like you have to live with your mistakes. If you can’t handle it, then it’s best that we know about that now.”

   Glancing at the simulator again, he said, “What happens if I freeze up out there? If I lose control of the battle?”

   “Then, Sub-Lieutenant, what happened in that last run comes true. Alamo is destroyed, the crew killed, and your corpse ends up drifting in space forever, assuming the not-men don’t have a pendant for dissection. Does that help?”

   “No.”

   “It wasn’t meant to. We play for high stakes out here, Sub-Lieutenant, but I think you’ve got a decent set of cards in your hand. Trust yourself, and if you can’t bring yourself to do that, trust the Captain and I. Both of us think we’ve picked a winner.”

   “I’ll try, ma’am.”

   “Good. Now how about another simulation run? I think I can come up with a scenario that might test you a bit.”

   “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, sliding back into the cockpit, the lights coming on as the systems prepared to send him into another battle to the death. His third today. It would be nice to win this time.

  Chapter 18

   Cooper crept low along the gully, pistol in his hand, the rest of the squad following in his footsteps. Seven had become ten over the course of the night, which meant that only seven of his team were now missing. He knew too well where the other two were. He’d thrown the
last shovel of dirt over their graves himself. Worry for the rest of his team still tugged at him, a fear that they might he like the others, at the bottom of the sea or lying on the jungle floor, but there was nothing they could do about it. There was no time for a search, not with a hundred miles of terrain to cross.

   He raised his hand, gesturing the next man in the squad to move forward and take point. He’d been in the lead for half an hour, long enough that he was beginning to get distracted. Watkins moved forward with a curt nod, gesturing for the unit to resume its advance after a few moments. Dawn would be breaking soon, and the jungle was beginning to come to life. Strange how similar it was to the terrain back on Earth, the Martian Zoo with its domed reconstruction of Borneo’s paleoforest that he’d walked through as a kid.

   Something cheeped by his shoulder, a purple and black creature swinging from the branch of a tree, its tongue leaping out to snare an insect. This place should be a haven for the genetic researchers and wildlife tourists, a surprisingly well-kept secret out in the middle of nowhere. There could be dozens more worlds like this, out in the black, known only to the few people who were around to exploit them.

   Watkins raised his hand, and the squad froze in position, slowly dropping to their knees. His pistol in his hand, Cooper cautiously advanced, moving level with the forward scout, making sure not to make a noise. The trooper gestured forward, and Cooper nodded, spotting the movement up ahead. At least two people, possibly more, advancing in their direction, and not being particularly cautious about it.

   There was a chance that this was the remainder of his men. Most of Fourth Squad was still missing, Rhodes the only member to have yet appeared, but he would have expected Sergeant Morton to take greater care. More likely this was an ambush. He gestured back for Nash and Martinez, similar enough that they could have been sisters and both highly rated as wilderness scouts, and gestured for them to hook around to investigate.

   The squad was back to the Dark Ages. No radio communication, no satellite navigation, no orbital observation. They’d have to do things the old-fashioned way, covert infiltration and infra-red filters. Not that they were as effective in this sea of life as they would have been in the arena for which they had been designed. The two troopers disappeared into the undergrowth, leaving no trace of their presence, while Cooper sat back, waiting.

   Vaughan moved up, whispering, “How long do we wait, sir? Dawn in twenty.”

   “We wait ten, then hit them hard and quick. Everyone but you and I use tranq darts. Quieter that way. We’ll keep out pistols in case we need to make some noise.”

   “We could work our way around,” the veteran replied.

   “Not in the time we have, not and get far enough away. We’re taking enough risks at the moment without traveling in daylight as well. Split the men up into fire teams. I go left, you right, on my signal.”

   “Yes, sir,” he said, creeping back to brief the men while Cooper peered off into the jungle, throwing his goggles to maximum usable magnification. No sign of anything, now. No movement, no noise, the whole jungle seeming to go still. He glanced down at his watch, and shook his head. They were cutting this too close. He made a mental note that next time, they needed to make camp with half an hour to go, enough time to scout out their site before they settled.

   Behind him, Barnard, Watkins and Rhodes moved into position to follow him in, switching to their tranq guns. The darts would make next to no noise as they flew through the air, the contents designed to knock out their opponents in seconds. They still had five days in this jungle before the attack, and they were making slow enough progress without having to evade a deliberate search.

   No sign of Nash and Martinez. They knew what they were doing, had done well enough in the training, but both of them only had one brief battle to their credit, not long enough for the lessons to sink in. One day the Triplanetary Espatier Corps would have a cadre of seasoned veterans, trained and prepared for missions such as this. Today it was a collection of rookies still learning their trade. Himself included, at least in this environment. Experience fighting in a deep space environment couldn't prepare him to fight in a jungle.

   The time was up, and he raised his fist, pumping it twice, and started to move forward, the rest of his fire team following, gently curving to the left as Corporal Vaughan’s force moved to the right. Each step was fraught with peril, undergrowth waiting to make a noise at their progress, to lure them into a trap. Anything could be waiting for them.

   Ahead, the ground began to clear, and he caught sight of an encampment being broken down, figures clearing away an oxygen tent, packing the cylinders into packs for transport, four others standing guard, none of them paying full attention. This should be easy. Then the plan collapsed while he watched, as a loud crack sounded from the opposite side of the clearing.

   Instantly, the four guards turned, firing blind into the undergrowth, and Cooper heard a scream echoing across the jungle. Leaping through the hedge on instinct, he fired two shots from his pistol at the nearest guard, the second smashing into his respirator pack, sending him dropping to the ground, desperate for breath.

   Stealth was out of the question now, the rest of his squad racing forward, firing wildly at any target, hastily reloading to conventional ammunition as their clips ran out. Two more men dropped to the ground, darts in their side, but three guards still remained, diving into prepared positions, taking cover. Cooper and his men were awfully exposed, standing out in the open, and as the first few shots smashed into the ground all around him, they dived into the undergrowth, Barnard a second too late as a bullet caught him in the foot, blood spilling out onto the ground.

   From the far side, the other fire team had finally got their act together, and the two sides now opened up into a killing ground, bullets flying through the air and catching the remaining guards in a lethal crossfire. As the last one fell, Cooper heard more crashing coming through the undergrowth, and turned to see his two scouts racing out into the compound, pausing for a second at the dying men all around them before continuing their advance.

   “Reinforcements!” Nash yelled. “On the way.”

   “Form up!” Cooper shouted. “Take cover, for God’s sake! Corporal?”

   “Out cold, sir,” Jackson yelled, dragging the unconscious Vaughan behind him, an angry gash on his forehead.

   “Move, move! Nash, how many, and where?”

   “At least twenty, moving towards us from the north.”

   “You and Martinez take up positions on either side of the squad. The rest of you form up, and fire when I give the word. You might as well switch to regular ammunition now, I think our secret’s out.”

   The squad settled into their positions, Barnard limping into the hastily improvised cover, leaning on Watkins. There was no sign of Private Roy, and Cooper looked at Jackson, who shook his head. Three confirmed dead now, and two wounded they were going to have to take with them.

   Up ahead, the second group started to move in. They must have stumbled across a major expedition, that or they had managed to get a team to investigate the shuttle crash more quickly than he had hoped. Either way, this would deal with a significant portion of their combat strength. Or end the attack right here and now. One way or another.

   “Wait for the command,” he said. “Wait for the command.”

   The troopers tensed up, lining their shots. Cooper longed for the plasma carbine at his side, but left it where it was. They were going to need all the shots they had for the attack to come. Pistols were going to have to suffice, though he did reach down for one of the grenades in his pocket, gesturing at Watkins to do the same. There were a dozen people moving up now, cautiously advancing.

   “On my word, volley fire. Pin the bastards down and nail them to the deck.”

   One more heartbeat, then another. Trying to do maximum damage. It seemed almost incredible that they hadn’t attacked yet, that they hadn’t ma
de a move.

   “Fire!” he yelled, and the squad fired as one, his grenade soaring over to land behind the advancing troopers, the jungle echoing to the sound of an explosion ripping through the undergrowth, sending flaming shrapnel raining down on the attackers. Six of them dropped before any could return fire, their guns spitting death in their direction.

   “On the left flank!” Martinez yelled, and Cooper turned to see five more troopers heading in their direction, weapons at the ready. Before he could even think about redeploying, they opened fire, and Rhodes took a bullet in his arm, his weapon dropping onto the floor as he rolled away into deep cover.

   They were being attacked on two sides now, the fire raining over their heads, the men scattered. A small cylinder flew through the air towards him, and he sprinted away from it, leaving the cover just before the grenade exploded, the blast knocking him to the ground. He looked up to see a rifle pointed at him, a guard staring at him lying on the dirt. His gun was at his side, no chance that he could do anything in the time.

   Then his assailant dropped to the ground, blood spilling out of his neck, crumpling to the side as Sergeant Morton raced in, leading Fourth Squad on a charge to break the back of the enemy attack, passing him as they hit the enemy in the rear, spilling rounds across the forest.

   Slamming a new clip into his pistol, Cooper yelled, “Follow me, Third Squad!” and raced after Morton, picking off a guard that had carelessly moved out of position for a second. As the remaining enemies melted into the forest, he shouted, “To me!”

   Slowly, reluctantly, his forces broke off their attack. There was no point scattering them all through the jungle to finish the last few off now, not with their position already hopelessly compromised. Morton walked towards him, a beaming smile on his face.

   “Thought you could use the assist. We must have been walking just about parallel to each other. I found a trail about a quarter-mile to the west.”

   “Your timing is excellent, Sergeant. How many have you got?”