Battlecruiser Alamo: Aces High

by Richard Tongue

   “Not again,” he muttered, under his breath. “Not this time. Not for a worthless piece of rock.”

  Chapter 17

   Orlova raced across the terrain, Carpenter struggling to keep up, keeping her rifle raised to face anything that might jump out at her. As she climbed over a rise, she saw the cylindrical fuel tank resting in a crater, red-and-white parachutes draped over it, the brightest object for miles. No point trying the communicator, so she raised her pistol to the sky, tilting it in the direction she had come, and fired a trio of shots in quick succession.

   “Come on,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”

   The two of them sprinted down the hill, bouncing in the low gravity, and made their way over to the fuel pod. Quinn had kept it simple, just a status indicator and a pair of hoses connected to a pump. She tapped the side of it, and heard a satisfying clang.

   “That’s that,” she said. “All set. In a little over an hour we’ll be on our way home.”

   Turning, she saw an object moving over the terrain, the first of the shuttles on its way to top up its tanks. The other, Evans at the controls, was just behind them, both loaded with the survivors from Yeager Station. She fired off another shot, then tapped Carpenter on the shoulder.

   “Let’s move,” she said. “No point making the landing harder than it already is.”

   She watched the two of them set down with an expert’s eye. Nelyubov was a hair closer, just over twenty meters away, but Evans was still well within range, both gently settling onto the ground. So far, this was going well.

   “Nelyubov to Orlova, do you read me?”

   “Loud and clear. Nice landing. Let’s get topped up and get the hell out of here.”

   The two airlocks opened, and four figures came out, moving towards the tank. While the engineers started to connect the hoses to the shuttles, Orlova looked out across the horizon, shaking her head.

   “Five hours they’ve been down on the deck,” she said.

   “We don’t know what condition they were in when they landed,” Carpenter replied. “And they must have been scattered to hell, and likely have the same communication problems we do.”

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “That wouldn’t stop me. One person with a plasma rifle could ruin our whole day, and leave us easy pickings for the rest. Alamo can’t risk dropping down to pick us up more than once.”

   “We both know that the Captain will take that risk.”

   “If he thinks we’re dead? And that assumes that we’ve got something we can ride up into orbit if we need to.” Tapping a button on her sleeve, she said, “Gennaro, Bates, get out here with the plasma guns and stand guard to the north. Carpenter and I will handle the south. Watch for anything that moves, and feel free to shoot first and ask questions later. Everyone I like on this rock is in the shuttles. Move.”

   Gesturing for Carpenter to move back the way they had come, Orlova stepped carefully up to the top of a rise, kneeling on the ground and holding her rifle in a ready firing position, scanning the horizon with her helmet sensors. They should be able to pick up any movement, any activity, but down here in atmosphere, nothing worked as well as it did out in space. Here it was possible to be stealthy, and that worried her.

   Over to the north, a plasma bolt shot across the landscape, and she turned to see Bates looking out over the horizon, before turning back to Orlova and shrugging.

   “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I must have been looking at a shadow.”

   “Don’t apologize,” she said. “No such thing as friendly fire out beyond this crater, if you see anything it’s a bad guy. Take shots when you see them, and if you blow up a few rocks, I’d rather that than be caught by surprise.”

   “If I can interrupt,” Nelyubov said, “Pumps all working, full power. We’ll be fueled up in forty-five minutes.”

   “That’s cutting it a little tight, isn’t it?” she replied. “Alamo begins its descent in fifty-two.”

   “We’ll make it, Maggie, if all goes well.”

   “See that it does.”

   She turned back to the horizon, glancing briefly up at the gathering clouds. Night was falling, and she could see the stars begin to gather, twinkling in the dark. One of them was Alamo, though she didn’t take the time to work out which. She glanced across at Carpenter, still looking out, in the direction of the mysterious light they had seen on their descent.

   “There’ll be another chance to take a look, Susan,” she said, selecting a private channel.

   “Assuming we don’t end up abandoning this system altogether.”

   “I can’t see the Fleet doing that. Sends a bad message, with the Cabal and the UN on our borders waiting to pounce. We can’t show any weakness.”

   Shaking her head, Carpenter replied, “If that’s our only reason for being out here, then I’m worried. This has got to be about more than just that.”

   “It is,” she said. “We just have to think of some sort of excuse to sell to the top brass.”

   “That light is exactly why I came out here.”

   “At least you’ve got the spacesuit and its occupant to examine when we get back to Alamo. Ought to be good for a paper or two.”

   “Maggie, one of the better things about being in the service is that ‘publish or perish’ isn’t something I have to worry about. Most of my work is classified anyway.”

   “At least you got a good security clearance out of it.”

   “Ma’am,” Gennaro said. “Something in my sector, out at extreme range, maybe two miles.”

   “Throw me your helmet feed,” she said, and the landscape seemed to shift as her display switched to Gennaro’s field of view. “What am I looking at?”

   “Over by that mouse-shaped rock, the big one. I thought I saw something moving over there, a disturbance in the terrain.”

   “I don’t see…,” she began, and then she did. “Take out that rock, Gennaro. Let’s see if anyone twitches.”

   Nodding, the technician raised the gun to his shoulder, carefully lining up his target, and then gently squeezed the trigger, sending a green pulse flashing across the landscape, ripping the rock into a cloud of dust that rose into the air. There was a shadow on the floor, a brown shape that seemed to settle into the ground before starting to move again. It seemed to dance around, flickering from one position to another, giving her no chance to examine it.

   “There’s something there,” she said. “Bates, you head over to Gennaro. Fire at will, saturation bursts.”

   “It isn’t holding still long enough for me to draw a bead,” Gennaro protested.

   “Never mind that,” she replied. “If enough death is raining down from overhead, he’ll keep his position, and there’s always the chance of a lucky shot. Nail him.”

   “Want me to go over there?” Carpenter asked.

   “If I was in their position, I’d have us surrounded,” Orlova said. “Especially if my suits had some sort of camouflage built-in.” As waves of fire began to fly towards the south, she continued, “Stay sharp. Frank, get someone out to act as spotter in Bates’ position. Someone other than you, I need both shuttles to have pilots at the controls.”

   A figure stepped out of Shuttle Two’s airlock, waved at Orlova, and walked over to the vacant guard post, a small pistol in his hand. She turned back to the landscape, trying to ignore the suppressing fire behind her, and attempted to focus on the view. Brown on brown, different shades running together, and the light fading fast. Something in the back of her mind warned her that surprise attacks generally took place at dawn or dusk.

   The communications problem was the most frustrating of all. Alamo would be watching all of this from orbit, and with its sensors could likely spot the incoming enemy soldiers. If they could just link up, she could use the plasma rifles to take them out with a handful of shots, guided from the Tactical Station. Their suits were designed for i
t, but no-one had figured on this sort of a communications blackout. It must be worse up there, though, powerless to do anything but watch. At least here she had a gun in her hands to influence the situation with.

   “Maggie,” Carpenter said. “Something in my area. I think. Down by that near-pyramid, you see it?”

   Turning to face it, she threw her highest zoom into position, seeming to race forward across the landscapes. It was quite clear, the same as she had seen through Gennaro’s camera. The image seemed to dance across the landscape, some sort of optical trick. Holograms, perhaps, though that would use up a lot of power. Some way of rendering him invisible.

   “Suppressing fire, Susan,” she said. “Try and nail him. Maximum dispersion, and aim at the ground. Anything to make him lose his feet.”

   “That’s two,” Carpenter replied, raising her rifle and squeezing off the first shot. “Four to go, I guess.”

   “Assuming that there was only one in each pod.”

   “I love the way you always manage to cheer me up.”

   “Frank,” she asked, “What’s the score?”

   “Tanks filling nicely, we might even be ready a little early.”

   “We go as soon as we can attain orbit. I don’t care if you blow out the pumps doing it, we need to be off the ground as fast as we can.”

   “Without Alamo waiting to pick us up?”

   “If we lift off, they’ll be on the move. We might be out of position, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m in an ever-tightening noose down here.”

   “You’re spotting them easily enough,” he began, before saying, “Damn. You’re right.”

   “I think we’re seeing exactly what they want us to see. If they have that sort of technology…”

   “Then we shouldn’t be spotting them at all.” He paused, then said, “Fifteen minutes for Shuttle Two, thirty-five for One. That’s the best we can manage.”

   “I’m not sure we’ve got that much time,” she replied. “Get everyone onto Shuttle Two, right now.”

   “Maggie, we’ll never make orbit with that much weight.”

   “Throw out the spacesuits, throw out everything that isn’t nailed down. Lighten the ship, and do it quickly. We’ll have to gamble on Alamo managing a suborbital snatch.”

   “Risky as hell.”

   “Ma’am?” the new guard said. “I think I’ve got something.”

   “Bates, switch firing position. Gennaro, cease fire for a few seconds and see if your target is still there.”

   “Aye, ma’am.”

   “You know what?” Nelyubov said, “I’m suddenly convinced of the hidden genius of your plan. What about Shuttle One?”

   “Keep topping it up as long as you can. I’ve got an idea.”

   “Now I’m really worried.”

   She looked back over the landscape, shaking her head, wondering what she wasn’t able to see. There could be someone standing right behind her, and she might struggle to see them. Experimentally, she moved through the light filters, going from ultra-violet to deep infra-red, but that didn’t seem to help.

   “Cease fire,” she ordered. “Fall back to the shuttles.”

   Behind her, a pile of objects was steadily growing outside the airlock to Shuttle Two, ration packs, medical kits, spacesuits, even seat cushions. Anything that wasn’t needed for the flight. From a topside vent, a white plume began to rise, Nelyubov getting rid of most of the oxygen in the tanks. In an hour, either they’d have been picked up by Alamo, or they’d be dead in an uncontrollable re-entry. They didn’t need air for three weeks, not any more. Shuttle One began a similar purge, on remote, as a group of spacesuited figures made their way across.

   “I need a volunteer to remain outside,” she asked.

   “You have to ask?” Carpenter said.

   “Fine. Gennaro, Bates, get to the shuttle. Drop your guns down away from the shuttles.”

   “We might as well keep firing until the launch, ma’am,” Gennaro said.

   “You’ve done your job, Spaceman. Get inside.”

   Looking around at the landscape, he nodded, then said, “Aye, ma’am,” turning for the airlock.

   Orlova took up a position just beyond Shuttle One’s airlock, looking out over the landscape, periodically firing a burst at random. She started to tap a series of controls on her wrist, accessing the navigation computer of the empty shuttle, entering commands. Time seemed to drag, and she knew that the enemy was getting closer, setting themselves up for an attack. The only thing remaining in their favor was that they couldn’t know when they planned to launch.

   “Maggie!” Carpenter yelled, firing a burst at the edge of the crater, high on the ridge. This time, the bolt struck true, and the tattered remnants of a humanoid figure crumpled to the dirt.

   “Good shooting, Susan,” Nelyubov said. “I’m getting rid of your friend, I’m afraid.”

   “Make sure he’s put clear of the guns,” Orlova said.

   “Will do.”

   “At least we’ve still got the samples,” Carpenter replied. “Damn this.”

   For a heartbeat, Orlova saw something flickering by her side, only a few meters away, and she rolled on her side, firing a shot that flew over Shuttle One, taking out its communications antenna. Her second shot, blind, hit home, and the top half of a figure flew backwards, smashing on the crater wall.

   “Two down,” Carpenter said. “I guess their invisibility isn’t perfect, after all.”

   “Give me good news, Frank. Things are getting serious out here!”

   “We’re stripped down, Maggie. Three minutes before I can risk it. That’ll only give Alamo eight minutes for the pick-up, and I don’t dare give them any less time.”

   “Right,” she said. “Count me down at sixty seconds, and I’ll move. Susan…”

   “I’ll go when you do,” Carpenter replied, flashing her a glance. Orlova replied with a grin, both of them well aware of what she was about to do.

   “Coming up, Maggie. Ninety seconds,” Nelyubov said. “Pre-flight...behind you!”

   She spun around, firing a pair of wild shots, but felt hands reaching for her, sending her tumbling down to the ground. A shot cracked overhead, close enough that she could hear it even in this thin atmosphere, and a figure recoiled backward, giving her room to fire a third pulse with her rifle, dispersing her attacker to the winds.

   “Now! Maggie, come on!”

   Without a backward glance, she sprinted for the ridge, firing a shot ahead of her to clear her path, then turning to blast the two plasma rifles on the ground into slag before she got away.

   “Damn it! Get back here! We’ve got to go!”

   “Go, Frank! You’re going to need that extra fuel, and someone’s got to say behind to make sure you get away.

   “I’m not leaving you behind.”

   “Lieutenant, that’s an order! Lift off! Alamo can retrieve us later. Get moving.”

   “Get out of here, Frank,” Carpenter said, and Orlova glanced across to see that she was following her. “We’ll manage.”

   “Ten seconds. Come on, Maggie, we can make it!”

   “Damn right you can. Susan…”

   “Not a chance.”

   “Frank, get moving! Go!”

   There was a pause, one that seemed to last for hours, and then he replied, “Lift-off sequence engaged. We’ll be back. Good luck.”

   Playing on its landing thrusters, and sending a couple more figures tumbling to the ground, both of which Orlova finished off with a pair of quick shots, the shuttle began to rise, the nose pointing up onto its trajectory before the main engines roared, smoke and flame billowing out across the landscape. Raising her arm, Orlova pressed a pair of buttons, and Shuttle One used what little fuel it had to follow suit, rising for only a few hundred meters before she cut the thrust, sending it tumbling back to the surface.

&
nbsp;  “Over the ridge!” she yelled, leaping for cover, Carpenter just behind her as the shuttle exploded behind her, shrapnel flying through the air, shredding anything in the crater to pieces. Above, Shuttle Two continued its launch sequence, gaining height as it struggled on its trajectory, almost visibly struggling under the extra weight.

   “Go,” Orlova said. “Go, Go, Go!”

   “They can’t hear you,” Carpenter said.

   “I know,” she replied. With a sigh, she turned to her friend, and said, “I believe there’s somewhere on this planet you want to see. With a little luck we won’t be disturbed, at least not for a while. Shall we?”

   “I haven’t got any other plans for this evening,” she replied, and the two turned, leaving a scene of devastation behind them, heading for the horizon.

  Chapter 18

   Marshall lay on his bunk, looking up at the ceiling, keeping one eye on the clock. There was still more than half an hour before the shuttles should be launching, but he couldn’t relax, no matter how much he tried to force himself. When the communicator chirped, it was almost a relief.

   “What’s up?” he asked.

   “Something’s happening on the surface, sir,” Kelso said. “We’re picking up substantial weapons fire from the area around the shuttles.”

   “Get Quinn and Caine to the bridge on the double, and bring the ship to battle stations. I’m on my way.”

   “Aye, sir,” he replied. A moment later, his voice started to echo over the loudspeakers, “All decks, stand by your battle stations. This is no drill. Repeat, this is no drill. All decks, battle stations. Prepare for variable acceleration and turbulence.”

   Tugging on his jacket, Marshall jogged down the corridor to a waiting elevator, Caine stepping out of her quarters and running alongside, the two of them almost knocking a technician to the floor in their haste. As soon as they stepped through the door, the elevator began on its way, not waiting for direction; Elevator Control was on the job.

   “What happened?” she asked, and Marshall shrugged.

   “We ran out of time. All we can do is watch until they begin their launch. They can’t possibly have had a chance to fuel up yet.”