“Did the owner…”
“Down on the surface, as best we know. Maggie’s got a team going through the quarters of the known-deceased already, getting everything shipped back to Alamo so that we can return it to their families.”
“And the station?”
He passed over a datapad, saying, “Full report on there, but Petty Officer Cook can give you a more detailed briefing. I think she’s down at life support right now, setting up the secondary monitors.”
Nodding, Salazar said, “I understand an expedition is heading down to the surface in a couple of hours, a rescue mission.”
“Cunningham briefed you,” Nelyubov replied. “Well, yes, that is so.”
“Which shuttles are going?”
“One and Two, I think.”
“Request permission to pilot Shuttle One, sir.”
“Denied.”
“May I ask why?”
“We already have two pilots for the mission. Your zeal is appreciated, but not necessary. Your place is here.”
Looking down at the deck, Salazar took a deep breath, then said, “May I speak freely?”
“Yes.”
“My place is flying that shuttle, sir. I’m a Midshipman. This is the sort of thing that I’m supposed to do. Your place, on the other hand, is up here on the station, fulfilling the role that you have been ordered to undertake. I understand that you have been given permission to disregard those orders, but you shouldn’t.”
“You presume to tell me my duty?”
“I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t.”
A smile cracked across Nelyubov’s face, and he said, “I have a lot more experience than you…”
“Which is precisely why you should remain in command up here on the station, instead of serving as Senior Lieutenant Orlova’s deputy. I presume Lieutenant Carpenter is going down as well?”
“You are unusually perceptive for a rookie, I’ll give you that.”
“I had a chance on the flight out here to go over the unclassified portions of your personnel records, sir. The three of you have worked together in similar situations in the past, and it only makes sense that you would seek to do so again.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
“We don’t, sir. I’m sorry to continually disagree with you, but it doesn’t make any sense for you to be flying that shuttle. With respect, my pilot rating is higher than yours.”
“You flunked fighter training.”
“Not for lack of skill, sir.”
“No. Judgment.”
“So the court-martial said, sir, yes. Though if I may say, sir, that really doesn’t seem germane to this conversation.”
Shaking his head, Nelyubov replied, “You have a talent for getting on people’s nerves, kid. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
“Frequently, sir.”
That elicited another smile, and he said, “Maggie and I have been on a lot of missions together. We know each other well, know each other’s responses, how we will act under critical situations. Such knowledge is extremely valuable in a combat environment. I don’t doubt Lieutenant Carpenter’s abilities, but her specialty is of limited use down there.”
“Then…”
“No, I’m not leaving her up here and having you take her place. Her rank is essentially honorary, though in my opinion she has earned it. I’d rate you as better qualified to command this station than her. What are you worrying about, anyway?”
“Sir?”
“This has nothing to do with me, Midshipman, and I don’t think this is you wanting some sort of glorious adventure either. You don’t strike me as the type.” He looked at him, eyes boring into his, and said, “You don’t feel competent to command this station. Am I right?”
“I’m a recently…”
“Am I right?” he pressed.
“Yes, sir. I have every reason to doubt my abilities in an independent command situation, and based on my record, so should you.”
“Strange. You’re quick enough to tell senior officers what they should do, but you aren’t willing to take that big step yourself. I’d have thought you would be raring at the bit to get your first command assignment.”
“The man I was a year ago would have been. Not any more.”
“What you went through would change anyone. Want some advice?”
“Yes, sir. Always.”
“Use it. Don’t let it dominate your life.” He gestured around the room, and said, “Not much, is it? A small, tumbling station with less than a dozen people on it, but it will be yours in about an hour, and I’m not going to let you argue me out that decision.” Pausing, he added, “If it helps, I understand that Maggie has already filed the paperwork for you to get a commendation for what you did outside.”
“All I did was my duty, sir.”
“True, but you reacted extremely quickly. I loved the part where you told everyone else to shut up and let you think.”
His face reddening, Salazar said, “I didn’t know the channel was still open, sir.”
“You were right to do so. We were back-seat driving, and it evidently wasn’t necessary. You knew what you were doing, and there wasn’t much we could do to influence the situation. No-one else was in range to pull Grogan back.”
“I just did what had to be done.”
“You did it, though. Another man might have frozen, waited for instructions. Waited too long.” Nodding, he said, “I have confidence in you, Midshipman, and so do a few others. Don’t let us down.”
“I’ll do my best,” he replied. “Can I ask a question, though? A personal one?”
“I won’t guarantee an answer, but feel free to ask.”
“Does she know?”
“Who?”
“Senior Lieutenant Orlova? Does she know how you feel about her?”
He frowned, shook his head, and said, “Let me tell you about Margaret Orlova. She took a ship full of out-to-pasture officers, myself included, one that was falling to pieces, surrounded by hostile vessels deep in enemy territory, and not only did she proceed to capture a Cabal space station and discover the first Neander world, she managed to swing around and attack a full enemy task force, saving Alamo and everyone on board. She did that as a Sub-Lieutenant.”
“I saw the movie.”
Shaking his head, he said. “That doesn’t tell the half of it. She’s the best commanding officer I’ve ever had, and I am privileged to call her a friend, as well. In a few years from now, she’s going to have a ship of her own, likely wearing Lieutenant-Captain’s insignia, and I’m going to be on that ship whatever it takes.”
“With all due respect, sir, you don’t convince me for a minute.”
“I’m not here to convince you of anything, Midshipman.”
“No, sir, of course not,” he replied, shaking his head. “I just remember Wolverton.”
“Who?”
“He was one of the people who died, that day. He’d spent the last three months trying to decide if he was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him.”
“And he was going to do it when he landed?”
“No, sir, this isn’t a cheap romantic holomovie. It’s worse than that. He still hadn’t decided. Oh, he was going to do it, but there was the perfect time, perfect place, and he didn’t have the chance.” Looking down at the deck, he said, “I told her. After the court-martial. I felt she had a right to know how he felt about her. I’ve never heard from her since then, and I still don’t know if I made the right decision. Perhaps that ghost should have stayed buried.”
“I think you made the right call,” Nelyubov said, placing his hand on Salazar’s shoulder. “I think it’s what Wolverton would have wanted.”
Nodding, he replied, “That’s why I did it in the end. I didn’t think there was going to be another cha
nce, I expected to be out of uniform the next day.”
“You took the time to do that in between judgment and sentence during your court-martial?”
“I had to do something, sir.”
“It still speaks well for you that you did. I presume that you are attempting to bury a moral in this story.”
“Something like that, sir. Look, I won’t presume to tell you how to run your own private life…”
“Little late in the day for that, isn’t it.”
“...but I can only tell you what I see.”
Nodding, Nelyubov said, “You’d better get up to Operations, take over officially. I’ve got to start preparations for the rescue operation.”
“Aye, sir,” Salazar said, making to leave.
“And Midshipman?”
“Yes, sir?”
“It is not impossible that both my statements and yours in this matter are perfectly true. One day, this will happen to you, one way or another. You’ll find someone that you are content to serve under, or you will find that there are people willing, even eager, to serve under you. I don’t know which.” He paused, then said, “Perhaps I do.”
“Sir?”
“Nothing, son. Go take command, and there’s one more thing.”
“What is that, sir?”
“I know how you’ll feel. Hopefully, the next twenty-four hours will go by uneventfully, and someone will come over to take the load off your shoulders again, maybe even me, but there’s a hostile ship hiding behind the planet, and anything could happen.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
“You’ll doubt yourself, your abilities, your skills, your instincts. When that happens, remember this. Don’t think about what Captain Marshall would do, or Orlova, or for that matter me. All that matters at the end of the day is what Midshipman Pavel Salazar would do. I’d say he’s worth listening to.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll remember that.”
“Good. Now run along.”
“Aye, sir,” he said, snapping a salute before leaving the room.
Chapter 12
Orlova looked back at the station corridor, then down at the datapad again for one last look at the mission plan. Not that she should need to read it, she’d written it only a few hours ago, but she wanted to make sure that every detail was correct, that she’d prepared for every contingency. Nelyubov walked up, a smile on his face.
“You spent a while with Salazar,” she said. “No problems?”
“No, the kid just wanted a bit of reassurance, I think. Everything fine at this end?”
“The shuttles are ready to go, preflights completed, and our fighter escort is standing by.”
“So are our friends on the far side, I suspect,” he replied. “Shall we get on with it?”
“I think it’s about time. I’ll see you on the ground. Good luck.”
“You too. Be careful.”
Climbing through the side hatch, she almost crashed into Carpenter, stowing a pair of crates into the rear section.
“Almost done,” she said.
“Dare I ask?”
“I thought we’d better take some precautions, in case we couldn’t get back up again. A hundred and eighty man/days of emergency rations, as well as some medical supplies as well.”
Tapping the top box, Orlova read, “Surveying equipment?”
“You never know what we’ll get a chance to do. Look, we can always just cache it on the deck. We’ll want it at some point, and we might as well take it down now. It won’t affect our flight performance, I made sure to check the center of gravity.”
“More to the point, are our guns ready?”
“According to the manual, they’re charging nicely.”
“According to the manual?” Orlova asked, and Carpenter replied with a shrug.
“I’ve never done it before. Relax, Maggie. How hard can it be?”
“Hard enough to rip a hole in the side of the hull if you got it wrong,” she said with a smile. “Never mind. I’m sure it will all work out in the end.”
“I hope so,” Carpenter said, moving up to the cockpit, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. Orlova sat beside her, flicking switches, looking down at the desolate planet below. Not somewhere she’d want to be marooned, not even for hours. The prospect of spending a month down there didn’t appeal.
“Weather check?”
“Some dust storms, but they’re quite a long way from our trajectory. Alamo’s keeping an eye on them for us. I wish I’d picked a meteorologist for the science team, though.”
“All experience for next time,” Orlova replied. “Alamo, this is Shuttle One, ready to begin our descent.”
“Shuttle Two, I’m ready.”
“Demon Flight is go,” Grant’s voice said.
“This is Captain Marshall,” another voice said, breaking into the channel. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Good luck, and you all have clearance to launch.”
“Roger, Alamo, and thank you,” Orlova replied. “Launching now.”
The shuttle dropped away from the station, the rotation tossing them free, and she turned the ship around into the deceleration track, the navigation computer doing its work. Behind them, the other shuttle was following suit, the two ships linked together, and with a roar, the engines fired, slowing them down to drop out of orbit.
“Burn successful.”
“Demon Flight is launching,” Grant said. “See you down there.”
The station was soon left far behind as the shuttle curved down towards the planet, filling the viewscreen as the engines hurled them into the descent trajectory. Orlova looked across at her status panel, checking on the progress of her sister ship, and nodded. Everything seemed to be going fine for the moment, but it couldn’t last for long.
“Threat warning!” Caine’s voice yelled from Alamo, loud enough that she almost didn’t need the communicator. “We’ve got enemy targets incoming from the enemy ship, three of them, heading in low over the planet, backed up by two of those laser missiles.”
Glancing across at Carpenter, she said, “Worry about those, Alamo. We can handle the fighters.” She tapped a series of controls, then continued, “I had a feeling this might happen. We can spend more time in the atmosphere, burn more quickly. I think the heat shield can take it.”
“I’m not worried about the heat shields,” Nelyubov said. “That's going to cost us a hell of a lot of fuel, though.”
“Let’s get down on the deck first,” Orlova said. “Details later.”
“I didn’t know fuel was a detail,” Carpenter said. “I’ll get on the physical countermeasures. Looks like we’re going to need them.”
“Don’t worry, Shuttle One, we’ve got your back!” Tanner’s voice boomed. “Burning now.”
With an effort, Orlova looked down at her board, focusing on her own ship. A battle was going to be taking place above her, Alamo’s fighters trying to block those of the enemy, and no matter how she calculated it, three against two suggested that one of them would get through. Something to worry about. Later.
Resting her hands on the controls, she watched the monitors as the ship spun around again, sliding into the atmosphere heat shield first. If she’d tried this on a bigger world, they’d be nothing but a fireball, and even now, licks of flame were beginning to seep around the sides of the shield. As it was, she was more concerned that she’d be able to shed her speed in time for the landing.
“Damn!” Tanner’s voice cried. “Scratch Demon One, but Grant got out. Request SAR shuttle in the air.”
“Already in the works,” Marshall replied.
The shuttle was buffeting up and down, alarming creaks coming from the hull plating. Carpenter’s face was locked on her panel, but her knuckles were gripping the armrests of her chair, white as a ghost.
“Ke
ep it together, Susan,” she said.
“As long as this ship stays together.”
“Crap, crap, crap!” Tanner’s voice yelled. “I’m out!”
“Report!” Marshall barked.
“Had to bail out, boss. Last-minute collision with my target. I got a hit on the other one with my first missile, though.”
“Alamo, this is Shuttle One,” Orlova said. “Tell me the news.”
“One fighter, damaged, on its way down to you. It’s going to have a short firing window before you can get below safe altitude.”
“Let’s see if we can do something about that,” she replied, looking at the hull temperature reading. It was dropping nicely, so she had a little room for maneuver. “Frank, you up for a bit of fancy flying?”
“Sounds like fun,” he replied.
“Right. Do what I do.” Turning off the autopilot, she flashed up the planned trajectory on her screen to use as a guide later, then pointed the nose down towards the deck, ramping the engines up to full power.
“Maggie, what the hell?” Marshall asked.
“Got to shed altitude quickly. These birds aren’t up to much in a fight, and the best way to dodge a missile is not to be where it is. We should be able to pull out.”
“Should?”
“I think.”
The altimeter started to spin around as alarms sounded throughout the cockpit, Carpenter slamming override switches to turn them off while Orlova focused on her flying. They’d broken through the few, high clouds, and a rolling brown landscape unfolded beneath them, craters, mountain ranges, open deserts, and a few faint patches of softer, marshier ground, where a little water lingered in this drying world.
Up above, she could see the enemy fighter diving after them. If it went below thirty thousand feet, there’d be no way back for it, but she couldn’t expect that to stop her pursuing foe.
“There must be something down there,” Carpenter said. “Something important. It isn’t the station or the strategic location of the system.”
“Tactical analysis later, Susan,” Orlova replied, sweat dripping from her forehead. Another light snapped on, the shuttles now dropping below safe altitude, but now came the difficult part as she struggled to pull the nose up, the stubby wing surfaces of the shuttle giving her at least a little help, something to use, the atmosphere contributing more and more as it got thicker.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Aces High Page 10
