Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
INTO THE MAELSTROM
Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 23
Richard Tongue
Battlecruiser Alamo #23: Into the Maelstrom
Copyright © 2017 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved
First Kindle Edition: January 2017
Cover By Keith Draws
With thanks to Ellen Clarke
All characters and events portrayed within this ebook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Join the Triplanetary Universe Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/A9MdX
Chapter 1
Lieutenant Pavel Salazar stepped through the airlock, clambering out into the corridor beyond, struggling past the stacks of crates hastily being transported around the ship. He glanced back at his partner, Lieutenant Kristen Harper, who shrugged in response and followed him through the hatch just as it closed behind her. A harried technician, unfamiliar to either of them, snapped a salute as he saw the officers approach.
“Welcome to the Battlecruiser Alamo, sir, ma'am,” he said. “The Captain's up on the bridge at the moment, if you want to report in. I can page someone to take you up there...”
“We know the way, Spaceman,” Salazar replied with a smile. “But thank you. Carry on.”
“Aye, sir,” the technician replied, shaking his head as he returned to his work, trying in vain to match the crates stacked before him with the list on his datapad. Harper shook her head, and the two of them walked up the corridor towards the elevator.
“I still think it isn't fair,” she replied, taking the lead. “You were Executive Officer, Pavel. And Operations Officer before that. Dropping you back down to Security Officer...”
“Is a great relief,” he said. “Look, Kris, I'm still a Lieutenant, with not much seniority. Both of those jobs rate Senior Lieutenants. And no, I'm not in any great hurry to get promoted.” As they stepped through the doors, he punched for the bridge, and added, “Besides, we've both been away for almost a year. They've finished the refit without us. I'm just glad that we managed to get assigned to the same ship.”
“It was a foregone conclusion,” she said, flashing a smile. “Do you really think I'd let you fly off alone again? You wouldn't last a week without me, and you know it.”
“Neither would you,” he replied.
“And I know that too. Besides, Triplanetary Intelligence pays its debts, and we're both very much in credit.” She looked down at the datapad, and frowned, “I still say you should at least be Operations Officer. You've earned it. Maybe I could...”
Raising a hand, he said, “Let it be, Kris. It's just a mountain of paperwork, anyway.”
The door slid open, and they walked onto the refitted bridge, a combination of the strange and the familiar. Once more a command chair sat at the heart of the control room, surrounded by consoles on all sides. The Tactical Officer and the Helmsman sat next to each other at the front, facing the viewscreen, with consoles for Sensors, Communications, Engineering and Defense on either side. Behind the center seat, by the far wall, was a huge holodisplay, ten feet across, currently showing a schematic of the ship, text flashing in the air to report maintenance crews completing final preparations for launch.
Sub-Lieutenant Katherine Scott looked up from her station, a beaming smile on her face, and walked over to the two of them, saying, “Thank God, a familiar face.”
“You didn't think they'd keep us away, did you?” Harper replied. “How's our girl?”
“Better than ever,” she replied. “Commodore Chung did us proud, Kris.” Gesturing at the defense systems station, a pair of technicians buried in the bowels of the console, she continued, “They finally gave us point-defense lasers. Experimental design from your friends in Intelligence. And we've got two extra missile tubes now, rigged aft. Better capacitors in the primary cannon...”
“Sub-Lieutenant,” a gruff voice said, as an unfamiliar figure walked out of the Captain's office. “Have you finished calibrating the targeting controls?”
“All complete,” she replied, turning to the newcomer. “We're running the final testing program now. Three minutes, give or take.”
“I hope so,” he said, looking over the group with a critical eye. “Senior Lieutenant Max Francis, Operations Officer. I take it you are Salazar and Harper?”
Snapping a quick salute, Salazar replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Where have you been?”
Glancing at Harper, he said, “Out-system, sir, on detached duty to Triplanetary Intelligence. We only made it back to Sol a few hours ago.”
Nodding, Francis replied, “Then you're already way behind the curve on familiarization with the new systems. I'll see you as soon as we enter hendecaspace to make sure you are caught up.” Looking at Harper, he added, “This is going to be a tight ship, Lieutenant. I hope you don't have a problem with that.”
“Just the way I like it, sir.”
“I hope so.” Nodding back at the office door, he added, “The Captain wants to see the two of you immediately. He's expecting you.”
“He?” Harper asked, frowning.
“Yes, Lieutenant. He. Unless there's been an unexpected change in the last sixty seconds.”
Harper and Salazar looked at each other, then walked into the office, where Commodore Daniel Marshall was sitting behind the desk, Lieutenant-Captain Helena Caine standing by the wall. Given the changed decor, the holopictures of Marshall's father on the wall, it was obvious that he had been here for a while, and that this was not a temporary situation.
Salazar stood to attention, snapped the best salute he could muster, and said, “Lieutenant Pavel Salazar, reporting for duty, sir.”
“Lieutenant Kristen Harper, reporting for duty, sir.”
“At ease, both of you,” Marshall said with a smile. “I gather from your conversation with Max that you were expecting someone else to be sitting here.” He looked across at Caine, then continued, “In all honesty, it was as much of a surprise to me as it was for you. I only got the word that the command was vacant two weeks ago.”
“This is permanent, then, sir?” Salazar asked.
“It is indeed,” he replied, tapping the insignia on his jacket. “As soon as we get under way, I'm Fleet Captain again. The flag rank was always temporary, and I'm glad to be sitting center seat again. Especially on Alamo. It's nice to be home.”
“And Captain Orlova?” asked Harper, the beginnings of a scowl on her face.
“You haven't heard?” Caine replied. “Where have you been for the last three months?”
“Detached duty,” Salazar said. “I'm afraid we can't talk about it. Security.”
Taking a deep breath, Marshall said, “Captain Orlova is missing, presumed dead. At least, that's what her service record shows, though the details are pretty sparse. Some suggestion that she was on detached duty with Intelligence, just like you.” Raising an eyebrow, he continued, “I r
ather had the impression you were working with her.”
“No, sir,” Harper replied. “I haven't seen her since we got back to Mars. Last word I had was that she was remaining to supervise Alamo's refit personally.”
“Well, three months ago, she took off. No word as to where, no word as to when she would be back, though I understand the plan was for her to resume her duties as Alamo's commander before our departure. Last month, the new notation was added to her service record, and Vice-Admiral Remek offered me the command in her place.”
“I see, sir,” Salazar replied. He paused, then continued, “It's a bit of a surprise, sir. That's all. I'm certainly happy to be serving under your command again.”
With a smile, Marshall said, “Well, I'm glad to hear that my appointment meets with your approval, Lieutenant. I've placed you as Security Officer, and you'll be working under Max. Kris, I think you fit best as Intelligence Officer, under Deadeye.” He glanced at Caine, and added, “I know that you've both held more senior roles in the past, but...”
Shaking his head, Salazar said, “I'm not ambitious, Captain. I'm perfectly happy to serve as Security Officer.”
“Paperwork a little lighter?” Caine asked, with a twinkling smile. “I can certainly sympathize with that.” Glancing at a datapad, she continued, “You'd better have a word with Doctor Strickland and check in for your medical. Your service records are a little vague on your recent activities.”
“Who?” Harper asked. “Where's Doctor Duquesne?”
With a sigh, Marshall said, “Missing, presumed dead. Doctor Strickland came highly recommended as a replacement, though, and we've got a new surgical team.” He looked down at his datapad, and added, “You missed the briefing, so I'll give you the mission details now. About four months ago, the Deep Telescopic Array at Titan found a new brown dwarf, only two jumps from Sol, not too far from the border with United Nations Trust Territory. The Scoutship Pioneer was dispatched six weeks ago to investigate, and she hasn't returned. Our mission is to explore the new system, and investigate the disappearance of the ship.”
“That's an old Mariner-class,” Salazar replied. “Forty years old, pre-War. I thought those ships had been placed back in the Mothball Fleet?”
“So did I, but apparently they dragged one out for this mission,” Marshall said. “Personally, I think Fleet's overreacting, and it's more than likely the ship's simply suffered some sort of malfunction. My guess is that Vice-Admiral Remek is finding us an excuse for a shakedown cruise. In any case, I want you to go over the files and prepare a proper report for the senior staff. And I'd like that on my desk in six hours.” Sitting back in his chair, he continued, “Any questions?”
Harper glanced at Salazar and almost imperceptibly shook her head, and he replied, “I don't think so, sir. Not at this time.”
“Then I'll let the two of you get settled in. We're departing in about two hours, as soon as the last of the crew replacements come on board.”
“Five new midshipmen,” Caine added, shaking her head. “Another headache for me.”
“I don't envy you that one, ma'am,” Salazar said. “By your leave?”
“Dismissed.”
Salazar and Harper stood to attention again, then walked out of the office, crossing the bridge to the elevator without a word, Francis watching them with a puzzled frown as they left. As soon as the doors slid shut, Harper tapped a control to send the elevator down to the hangar bay, then pulled out her datapad.
“There's only one reason Pioneer would be out of the stable.”
“Triplanetary Intelligence is still using those old scouts as spy ships?” Salazar asked, and at Harper's nod, he continued, “Then there's more to this mission than we've been told.”
“More than I think the Captain's been told,” Harper replied. “Otherwise he'd have briefed us.”
Frowning, Salazar said, “You do realize that he's under no obligation to tell us everything.”
Waving her datapad, Harper said, “No Maqua, Foster, Duquesne, Orlova. All listed as missing, presumed dead. The same for Weitzman, Spinelli, a dozen others. Almost as if someone was putting together the crew of a starship for some sort of secret mission.” She frowned, and added, “If we hadn't been out at Thalassa, we'd probably have been dragged in as well.”
“Still, Kris, that doesn't mean…”
With a sigh, she replied, “We've both got the highest security clearance on the ship. Higher than the Captain.” She looked down at the datapad again, and her eyes widened. “Actually, that's not quite the case.”
“He's Double-Ultra as well?”
“No, just plain old Ultra, but for some reason, our new medical officer does. And Kat's got the same clearance, as well, and Lombardo's still here. It's almost as if someone has gone out of their way to assign personnel with the highest security classification on board.” The doors open, and a familiar, white-haired figure, stepped into the elevator, a wry smile on his face.
“I did,” Fleet Captain Logan Winter, Director of Operations for Triplanetary Intelligence, said, as the door slammed shut behind him. He pulled out a box, clamping it to the wall, then tapped a control that set a complicated pattern of lights flashing upon its face. “Now we can't be overheard.”
“Logan,” Harper said, “What the hell is going on?”
“I'd have liked to brief you both more completely, but I didn't have a chance before you arrived.” Leaning against the wall, he added, “Don't worry, we've got enough time for me to give you the basic details, and everything else is on your terminals, for your access only.”
“Where is Captain Orlova?” Salazar asked.
With a sigh, Logan replied, “I wish I knew, Pavel, but I can honestly tell you that I don't.” Shaking his head, he added, “Danny told you about the brown dwarf. What he didn't tell you was that we discovered it six months ago, not four, and that we haven't lost one ship out there, but two.”
“Two?”
Turning to Harper, he said, “You've heard about Monitor?”
Her eyes widened, and she replied, “You mean they actually went ahead?”
Salazar looked at the two of them, and asked, “If it isn't too much trouble...”
“Sorry, Pavel, all of this cropped up while you were away. Monitor was the only purpose-built capital ship captured by the Confederation at the beginning of the Interplanetary War...”
“I've read the history texts,” Salazar replied. “I even visited her in the Fleet Museum, four years ago. What was a fifty-year old warship doing on a mission of exploration? I didn't know we were that desperate for hulls.”
“Monitor is an old ship, Pavel, but she's still tough, and the infrastructure was sound. Two years ago, Triplanetary Intelligence began a refit. The whole ship was gutted, the interiors replaced with top of the line equipment, prototype weapons systems, the works. She's the most advanced capital ship in the Fleet.”
Shaking his head, Salazar said, “Triplanetary Intelligence decided that it wanted its own flagship. That's crazy.”
“I hasten to add that it wasn't my idea. I just inherited her. Anyway, her first mission wasn't a huge success, so we decided to refit her again, and the brown dwarf was the perfect opportunity for a trial run. She was meant to be out there for a month, to properly test her combat systems.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “Maggie volunteered to command her. Just for the shakedown.” With a shrug, he continued, “There aren't many experienced command officers with that level of security classification, and Alamo was in the middle of her refit. She was meant to be back two months ago.”
“And something went wrong.”
“She didn't come back, so we dispatched Pioneer, with a picked crew, including the engineer who supervised Monitor's refit. I hoped that it was a drive malfunction, something like that, though with the border so damned close...” Shaking his head, he added, “As I said, non
e of this was my idea. I just inherited the problem.”
“So now we've lost two ships, instead of one,” Salazar replied. “Beautiful.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Logan said. “Pioneer was under strict orders to stay hands-off, that if there was any sign of trouble, they should pull out immediately and report for further instructions. She's weeks overdue, and both Fleet and I feel that the risk of enemy action is too great to ignore.”
Folding his arms, Salazar asked, “All of this is fine, but why isn't Captain Marshall briefing us about all of this himself?”
Looking down at the deck, Harper replied, “I can guess. The existence of Monitor is rated as Double-Ultra. Need-to-know only, and he doesn't have the security classification to know about it.”
Stepping forward, Salazar said, “Tell me she isn't right.”
“I'm afraid Fleet Captain Marshall doesn't know about Monitor, or her disappearance. And believes that Pioneer was simply a normal ship on a simple mission of exploration.”
“You're sending him out in the dark. Into something that has already eaten two starships, and might now be preparing to take a third.” Taking another step forward, he continued, “You and your friends have to be out of your minds.”
“Monitor is the most advanced ship in the Fleet,” Logan repeated, “And her existence is a closely-guarded secret. For the present, Captain Marshall doesn't need to know.” With a sigh, he continued, “My fear is that the United Nations has already grabbed her, in which case you won't find anything, and all of this becomes my personal nightmare for the next few months, while you and Alamo head off on your mission. Frontier Patrol.”
“I'm going to tell him,” Salazar said.
“Pavel, you can't,” Harper pressed. “I don't like this any more than you do, but Logan's got a point. If we don't find anything at the brown dwarf, then he doesn't need to know the true goal of the mission.”
Shaking his head, Salazar replied, “You understand, I hope, that Captain Marshall thinks of this as nothing more than a shakedown cruise, as do the rest of the senior staff?”
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