Traitor's Duty

by Richard Tongue

   “Ice mines?” Harriet said, shaking her head. “Never mind. One more article, I guess. I don’t see anything at the moment.”

   “Look closely, they’ll be camouflaged from orbital observation, though we ought to have more luck down here.”

   Gently, carefully, Orlova nursed the plane into a long, slow glide path, turning the engines down as low as she dared. They might have another twenty minutes in the air before she had to ditch into the desert, though unless they could get undercover quickly, the inevitable outcome was going to be capture. At least Talbot and the Commandant had managed to get away; with any luck, they ought to be touching down in a matter of minutes.

   The moments ticked on, guiding the fighter becoming more of a struggle by the second, Orlova taking more and more of the work back on herself to try and eke out her power, thriftier than the automated systems. Finally, just as she was about to start looking for the most sheltered spot she could to go down, Harriet tapped her on the shoulder.

   “To our right, Maggie. About a mile.”

   “Perfect,” she replied, tipping the nose down. “Hang on, this is going to be rough.”

   “You’re going down now?”

   “We can walk a mile before anyone arrives out here. And cover our tracks well enough that we should escape detection. Cross your fingers.”

   The ground raced up towards her as she gently guided the fighter down, warning alarms sounding all around her that she had to filter out as she brought the nose up to the horizon, gently bringing it to the surface. With an anticlimactic bump, the fighter landed, skidding across the sand, sending dust flying high into the air. Throwing a series of switches, Orlova pulled her mask on, gesturing for Harriet to follow suit.

   “Come on. We’ve got to get moving. Radio silence unless you have to.”

   “Right.”

   She stepped out of the cockpit and started to move in the direction Harriet indicated, pausing for a moment to see the fighter alone on the desert floor, running her eye over it. No serious damage, nothing that couldn’t be fixed. That bird would fly again.

  Chapter 10

   “Peace negotiations,” one of the troopers guarding the room muttered, earning a dark stare from Cooper. “I thought we’d taken this damn rock. It certainly cost us enough.”

   “That’s enough, Private,” Forrest said. “I’d rather listen to a million politicians debating than get into another firefight. I’ve done that here once too often.”

   “I’d done it once too often the first time,” Cooper added, looking across at the door. “Though they’re taking their time about it. We need to be on the move.”

   “Captain’s got a pretty tricky job in there,” Forrest replied. “We tore our guts out winning this fight, and now Alamo’s heading off into the black with one of our few remaining platoons.” He looked from side to side, and said, “You realize that I’m your Platoon Sergeant for this run, I hope. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”

   “Relax, Sergeant. It’ll feel funny not to have you around in a battle by this point. Though it is a step down for you.”

   Gesturing at the stripes on his arm, he said, “If wearing these things mean that I’m not allowed to be where I’m needed, I’ll rip them off this minute and go into battle as Private Forrest. The rank doesn’t mean that much to me.”

   “I know what you mean. Lomax getting everything stowed away?”

   Nodding, he replied, “Pick of the equipment, and Alamo’s barracks are just as we left them. Unfortunately, I mean that literally; they didn’t get around to them on the overhaul. Nice cleaning detail for the ride back.”

   “Sir,” the Private said. “You’re going home early? Where do I sign up?”

   “Nowhere, kid,” Forrest said.

   “Believe me, Private, this isn’t necessarily going to be a happy homecoming. I think you’re better off staying exactly where you are.”

   “More fighting? Then…”

   “Leave it,” Forrest said. “Someone’s got to stay here.”

   Another figure drifted up, Lieutenant-Major Brownworth with a severe expression on her face, making a bee-line for Cooper. The troopers snapped salutes as she approached, and she returned them with a glare.

   “Ensign, I need words with you. Sergeant, you take the guard watch; I think you can manage without an officer for a moment.”

   “Yes, ma’am,” Forrest said.

   Cooper sighed, and followed her off down the corridor to the nearest office, only recently vacated by the Cabal administrators, papers strewn around the room from the hasty sweep the inspection team had made just that morning. Pushing the debris out of the way, he swung in to float by the wall, the door closing shut.

   “Ensign…,” Brownworth began, but he raised a hand.

   “Major, none of this – especially not putting you in the loop – is my decision, and I cannot and will not tell you anything that I have been told in confidence by Captain Marshall and Lieutenant-Captain Winter.”

   “You aren’t usually this insubordinate.”

   “It’s been a long day.” He shook his head, and said, “If you trust me, then accept that in my opinion you are far better off not knowing all the details, both personally and for the sake of your career.”

   “What the hell does that mean?”

   “It means that we’re going somewhere very dark, and I’m far from convinced any of us are going to get out of it in one piece.”

   “You’re tearing my command apart, Ensign.”

   “I don’t have a choice!” he replied. “I’m going to need the best troopers that we’ve got if we have even a hope of pulling this off, and that means the old Alamo hands. You’ve still got four platoons left for the reconstituted Seventh Company.”

   “The rookies and the inexperienced. If the Cabal attack again, we’re going to miss the people you’ve taken, Cooper. We could lose everything.”

   “It’ll get a damn sight worse if I don’t, ma’am.”

   Pausing for a second, she asked, “Does Sergeant Forrest know?”

   “I haven’t told him, but it wouldn’t surprise me. He’s an…”

   “Old Alamo hand,” she said. “I’m getting tired of hearing that expression, Ensign. We’re all Espatiers, all members of the Corps, and that’s supposed to mean something, something special. We can’t afford to divide ourselves up. You’ll have other postings, you know.”

   A smile spread across Cooper’s face as he replied, “That very much remains to be seen, ma’am, and if I do I’ll be only too happy to adapt to the situation. I’m not doing this because I want too, I’m doing this because I need to.”

   “And if I give you a direct order, from your superior in the chain of command, to tell me what is going on?”

   “Then I will refer you to Captain Marshall.” Rubbing his hand against his forehead, he said, “Come on, Major, you know all of this already. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you thought I’d just come into this office and give you classified information.”

   “No, of course not,” she replied. “Perhaps I was hoping to talk you out of taking so many people with you. Esposito wasn’t any more informative than you were, but at least she isn’t stripping my company. Hell, half the people you’ve taken are up for promotions if they stay!”

   “They’re all volunteers,” Cooper said, then added, “Lieutenant Esposito’s going?”

   “I see there’s something you didn’t know.”

   “I don’t understand,” he replied. “Captain Marshall put me in command of the Espatier platoon.”

   “Perhaps if I was better informed, I might be able to help.”

   “There’s nothing I can do, Major. I’ve got to go, and I’ve got to take the best with me.” There was a knock on the door, and Lance-Sergeant Fuller floated in.

   “Ma’am.”

   “What is it, Sergeant?”<
br />
   “Actually, I’m here to see Ensign Cooper,” she replied.

   “Of course you are,” Brownworth said. “I’m only the commanding officer of the Triplanetary Espatier force in this system. What could I possibly do?”

   “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can come back later.”

   “No, no, by all means. Is this secret, or can I remain in my own office?”

   “Ma’am?”

   “Get on with it, Sergeant.”

   Turning to Cooper, she said, “Sir, you haven’t tapped anyone from Second Platoon to go with you yet.”

   With a quick glance at Brownworth, he said, “I’ve focused on those with prior service on Alamo, Sergeant. It’s nothing personal.”

   “Request permission to accompany you back to Mars, sir. On behalf of myself, and the survivors of the unit you commanded in the assault. I think we’d all like to see the mission through.”

   “You are needed here, Sergeant,” Brownworth said, her face reddening.

   “Besides,” Cooper added, “I already have a three-stripe coming with me.”

   “I can take one of them down, sir. It doesn’t bother me. Mason’s happy to go down to Lance as well, I already spoke with her.” With a smile, she said, “Actually, she talked to me.”

   “What is it with you all?” Brownworth asked. “Now we’ve got people demanding demotions to go on this trip.”

   “Sergeant, while I am not at liberty to tell you where we are going or what we are to do, I can tell you that it is an almost guaranteed career-killer. If you had any ambitions in the service, then this isn’t the place for you.”

   “Can I ask you a question, sir?” Fuller asked.

   “I can’t promise that I’ll be able to answer.”

   “Why are you going, sir? Why have you volunteered?”

   With a thin smile, he replied, “Because in my opinion and that of others I trust, it is the right thing to do, the necessary thing to do.” He paused, then said, “I have history in this game. You don’t.”

   “If you think that...whatever it is...is necessary, then that is good enough for me, and for the rest of the platoon as well. It’ll streamline the administrative set-up back here as well, sir. Taking what remains of Second Platoon and the Alamo veterans should just about fill up the roster.”

   “It will at that,” Cooper said, looking at Brownworth. “Major…”

   “Captain Marshall – and yes, I have had words with him – has made it quite clear that this has nothing to do with me. He seems to enjoy doing end runs around the chain of command.”

   With a quick glance at Brownworth, Cooper said, “Go and tell Second Platoon to head over to Alamo at the next opportunity, and to make sure all their kit gets loaded aboard Alamo. You take charge.”

   “Thank you, sir,” Fuller said, beaming.

   “And Fuller,” he said, “Don’t worry about the extra stripe. We’re off-script enough at the moment that I don’t think we need to be too concerned about keeping the org chart straight. The same goes for Mason.”

   “Yes, sir,” she replied. “I’ll get everything moving.”

   As the door closed, Brownworth said, “This had better be damned important, Ensign. You’re risking a lot of people that we can’t afford to be without.”

   “Do you want a war, Major?” he asked.

   “Don’t be stupid. I already fought one, and that was enough for me.”

   “Then it’s damned important.”

   The door opened again, Forrest on the other side, shouting, “It’s on! The Captain’s pulled it off, details to follow but we’re holding onto the station. Alamo’s shipping out in forty minutes.”

   “Forty minutes?” Brownworth said. “That’s nowhere near enough time.”

   “Every second matters,” Cooper said. “Sergeant, find Fuller and tell her to move with all speed, and you round up the rest of the crew and make sure that everyone who is going is on the ride.”

   “We’re going to be pushed to get all the kit loaded in time.”

   “Bundle it all into one of the cargo bays. We’ll have weeks to get it all sorted out once we’re on the move, and pass the word that we’re going to have a busy time of it. I want drills and practice exercises going in three hours.”

   “No time off for good behavior?” the veteran replied with a smile. “They’re going to love you, sir. I’m on the way.”

   Turning back to Brownworth, Cooper said, “This is my cue to get going. Yours too; Captain Cunningham will no doubt want to brief you on the details of the treaty. By your leave?”

   “Dismissed, Ensign.”

   “Thank you, ma’am.” He headed for the door, then said, “It has been a pleasure to serve with you, Major, and I’m sorry it has had to end this way.”

   She nodded, then replied, “We all are sometimes compelled to do things that we don’t want to while we’re wearing the uniform. Just make sure that you do it proud, Ensign. Whatever you end up doing at the end of your journey.”

   “I will, ma’am.” He floated out of the room, out into the corridor, and started to make his way down to the shuttle bay, a trip that he could almost do in his sleep at this point; he’d certainly had more than enough practice. Twice he had come to this asteroid with a gun in his hand to attempt to wrest control of it from an enemy, and the first time he had been extremely lucky to leave it.

   Somehow, it seemed different this time, and there was even a faint tinge of regret at the back of his mind. The last piece of unfinished business from Alamo’s first cruise, and it was fitting that he was returning to that ship with the survivors of the attack. Twenty-one people, almost a full platoon; he could have taken everyone, not short of volunteers, but he needed to have people he could trust at his back this time, and as far as he could tell, that meant people he’d fought alongside.

   As he drifted down the long corridor, he saw scorch marks still on the wall, and remembered the battle where they had been burned into place; he’d made quite a few of them himself at one time or another. He could see in his mind the faces of the people who had died here, beginning to slowly regress into history. Now, this would be a place of technicians and engineers, perhaps merchant traders and explorers. The Espatiers, though, were here first, and some of them would be here forever.

   Up ahead, the shuttle was waiting. He drifted into the airlock, sat alongside the other crewmen heading for Alamo, and closed his eyes as he left Hades, the asteroid slowly receding as the shuttle engines accelerated. Thirty minutes to go. He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 11

   Marshall sat in Alamo’s command chair, looking around the bridge. Everything seemed so superficially normal, just like any of the other cruises he had commanded over the years; Caine sitting at Tactical, Ryder at the watch officer’s station, familiar figures at Sensors, Communications and Engineering. Even Hades Station, still at the heart of the viewscreen, was almost becoming a familiar object in the sky as it slowly receded. This was different, though. Normally, going home was a joy, something to be longed for, but this time he dreaded seeing Sol in that screen.

   “Captain Cunningham, sir,” Weitzman said from his station. “Calling from Thermopylae.”

   “Put him on.”

   Cunningham’s face appeared on the screen, fresh worry lines already forming. “We’re all set here, Danny. I’ve briefed everyone about the plan and the ceasefire agreement.”

   “I’m not leaving you too light, am I?”

   “We’ll manage with what we have. My people say they should have Thermopylae ready to jump out of the system in a fortnight, and Gilgamesh back up to full fighting potential in a month. You’ve got reinforcements here if you need them.”

   Marshall caught the subtext, and didn’t like it one bit. “Thanks for the offer, John, but I don’t think I’m going to be taking you up on it. Just keep an eye on things here, and don’t accept any changes
of mission unless you get the word from me.”

   Nodding, Cunningham replied, “Understood. I wish I was going with you.”

   “I wish I was staying behind. Good luck.”

   “You too. Thermopylae out.”

   Caine stepped up from her console, walking over to his side, and said, “Are you going to tell them anything?”

   He looked up, nodded, and said, “Sixty-one people on board. They deserve to know what is at stake, though I think I can cut out some of the details.” Glancing at the remnants of the Triplanetary task force on the monitor, he added, “And a chance to get out if they want.”

   The door behind him slid open, and Quinn stepped out onto the deck, datapad in hand and a smile on his face as he moved behind Ivanov at the Engineering station.

   “All stations ready for hendecaspace, sir,” he reported. “Provisions and parts for a one-month cruise, full fuel tanks for the trip home, though I’d recommend topping up at Spitfire Station.”

   “Sol is where we end our wanderings, Lieutenant,” Marshall said. “For better or for worse, we’re going to have to make our stand there. Is ex-Captain Rogers secure?”

   “Locked in the brig. Logan’s interrogating him again, but I don’t think he’s getting anywhere. Just passing the time, waiting for the jump.”

   Nodding, Marshall looked over to Weitzman, and said, “Patch me through to the ship, and restrict all outgoing communication until further notice. Nothing leaves without my personal permission until we get to Mars.”

   “Aye, sir. Discriminators set, and you have the ship.”

   Pausing for a moment to run over his thoughts, Marshall picked up the microphone, then stopped again. How could he tell his crew that he was taking them home to potentially make war upon their own government?

   “This is the Captain,” he finally began. “In about five minutes, we will be leaving this system for what I hope will be the last time, on the first stage of our trip back to Mars, and home. I must at this time inform you all that I am acting in violation of my orders in so doing. I have learned that there is a threat to the very fabric of our nation back home, one which is attempting to launch a war of aggression against the Cabal.”