Stars in the Sand

by Richard Tongue

   “Any second,” Cooper replied. “We’ve got movement out there.”

   Alamo’s last Espatier leaned forward, taking a shot into the gloom with his pistol. The crack was followed by the noise of a ricochet, and he cursed under his breath before firing again, Cantrell immediately following suit; her shot was rewarded with a cry of pain.

   “Got one!” she yelled.

   “Beginner’s luck,” Cooper said. “I’ll be impressed as all hell if you can do it twice!”

   She leaned back, staring out into the shadows and gloom, raising her rifle to be ready to take the next shot. Cooper beat her to the punch, a pair of cracks from his pistol followed by a series of swear words in an unfamiliar language.

   Orlova looked down at the terminal, watching as Alamo’s security team fought an electronic duel with the freighter’s spooks. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d been running that mob herself, and she had some idea what they were capable of, but they had so little time to work.

   “Lieutenant,” Cooper said, “I think they’re getting ready for an attack.”

   She turned to the gloom, looking at the shadows slowly moving around, before she realized what the obvious next move was going to be.

   “Cover an eye!” she yelled, slapping a hand to her face just in time for the lights to blaze back on, dazzling her exposed eye. Cooper had closed his eyes, but none of the others had managed to follow her order before the enemy had thrown the switch. She dropped her hand and raised her rifle, firing a trio of shots at the advancing technicians, swinging forward on hand-holds in a bid to rush them while they were confused. Orlova and Cooper had a perfect field of fire at the advancing group, and two of the technicians paid the price for the failure of their plan while the rest skidded into cover, though far closer than they had been.

   “Alamo for you, ma’am,” a squinting Manning said, “Captain Marshall on the communicator.”

   He tossed his communicator over to Orlova, who grabbed it and raised it to her ear in a single motion. “Orlova here, sir.”

   “What’s your status?”

   “Ask Lieutenant Bailey; we’re just about hanging on over here.”

   “You’ve got sixty seconds to go. Can you get out of there?”

   She looked into the corridor, and a crack flew past her head. “No, sir. We’re pinned down.”

   A brief pause followed, “Maggie, I’m going to have to pull the trigger on the missiles in forty-nine seconds.”

   “We all understand, sir. Though I hope we can render that unnecessary.”

   “Ma’am!” Manning yelled, “Something on the status board!”

   Orlova tossed the communicator to Cantrell; she took it with a surprised look on her face while Orlova dived for the console. Bailey’s group had done their job, and the board was clear again. With a loud laugh, she started to enter the override commands. Evidently the bridge had realized what she was doing – a loud command in a strange language echoed from every speaker, and the freighter crew pushed forward once again, desperately attempting to overwhelm their position.

   There were six of them, two of them holding back to provide somewhat ineffective covering fire, the rest advancing into steady gunfire from Cooper and Cantrell, both trying to push the technicians back. With a thud, two of them slammed into the door, reaching for the two crewmen. Cooper took a shot at one, dropping the crewman but sending himself spiraling away into the room, while the other struggled with Cantrell.

   Orlova didn’t look up, not for a second, but continued to work, furiously typing commands into the console to scramble the system, anything to stop the ship from jumping. In the corner, the communicator was shouting at thin air; Manning drifted over to it and started to give a report to the Captain, but everything other than the console was fading away for Orlova.

   Her attention was finally grabbed by a loud shout from the far end of the corridor, and a wave of shots sending the remaining crewmen into cover, those who were still able to move at all. Durman had made it with the reinforcements at long last, and the battle of the corridor was over. With a series of winking red lights on the panel, Orlova realized that her personal battle with the console had also been won, and she gestured for Manning to throw her the communicator.

   “Hendecaspace drive disabled, sir,” she reported. “We have secured the engineering section.”

   “Casualties?” Marshall asked.

   “On our side, looks like a few wounds, nothing serious. The Ouroboros crewman didn’t fare so well.”

   “I see. Proceed and secure the ship, Lieutenant, and bring it in to Hydra Station. We’ll see you there.”

   “Aye, Captain. I’m on my way to the bridge.” She closed the channel, looked around at the devastation, and shook her head, before pushing back out towards the elevator.

  Chapter 4

   “Where are we going?” Cantrell asked Cooper as he floated down the corridor.

   “I’m trying to find Astrogation,” he replied, gesturing at a door. “Manning, Frazer, check out that room.”

   “Astrogation?”

   “Best we find out where this ship was going. If there’s a concentration of ships we don’t know about, we should get that information as soon as possible. It isn’t likely to be heavily guarded.”

   “Oh.”

   “Disappointed?” he replied with a smile, as he continued to push down the corridor. He’d sold Orlova on the idea that Astrogation was a key area to take, but both of them had known why he really wanted to get there as fast as he could, before anyone could decide to start deleting anything. Before he died, the Cabal traitor, Diego, had given him a clue to the location of the Espatiers that were being held captive.

   Days of work with Alamo’s database and the Cabal files they had acquired had drawn a blank; he needed a new source of information, and Ouroboros was his last hope to make any sort of sense out of the clue – a single word, Al-Sarfar. It had occurred to him that the traitor might have just said anything in a bid to get out of trouble, to try and pacify him, but he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind.

   “Nothing in the room, Corporal,” Manning said. “Just stores. Want an inventory?”

   “Later, Spaceman,” he replied. “Let’s get going.”

   His group turned a corner, and came across a single figure nervously standing in front of a door. Before he could even raise his weapon, Cooper fired a shot over his shoulder, sending him ducking behind a hastily positioned packing crate.

   “Give it up!” he yelled. “We have control of most of the ship; surrender and you will not be harmed.”

   The figure peered over the top of the box at the group of people, then tossed his pistol away into the corridor. Manning pushed forward with Cantrell, quickly searching him.

   “What do you want us to do with him?”

   “Let him go.”

   “What?” Cantrell said, frowning.

   Turning to the man, he said, “What’s your name?”

   “Tanaka.”

   “Go down to Deck 4, and turn yourself into the rear guard. They’ll see you are taken prisoner.”

   He looked from side to side, then said, “Why do you trust me?”

   “It really doesn’t matter. If you go somewhere else, you’ll be caught soon enough, but if you go where I’ve said, you likely won’t get shot in the process. Your call.” Looking at the rest of his team, he said, “Come on. Let’s get this done.”

   He pushed back the surprised Tanaka, flashing a quick look to Manning, who released him and followed into the room. The facility was unmanned at the moment, banks of consoles and terminals flickering on and off under automatic controls, clipboards and datapads drifting around the room, orbiting a trio of empty food cartons. Cantrell snatched one out of the air, took a sniff, and shook her head.

   “Don’t they care that someone has to clean this up?”

   “
Freighters aren’t run like warships,” Cooper said. “You should hear my uncle on the  subject.”

   Turning back to the door, she said, “Tanaka’s gone the wrong way.”

   “Probably gone for help.”

   “Don’t you care?”

   “Not really, he won’t get anywhere. This is a non-vital area; anyone left is probably on their way to the bridge, where I am sure Lieutenant Orlova will shortly be forcing a surrender.”

   “But…”

   “Spaceman, they’ve got nothing left to fight with. Once we stopped them jumping out of the system, we gave ourselves all the time in the world to secure this ship without taking any risks. We can starve them out if we have to, but it won’t come to that. My guess is that the captain will put up a glorious last stand to look good for his employers, then surrender.”

   Shaking his head, Manning said, “Still seems wrong just to turn a prisoner loose like that.”

   “Well, just on the off-chance, Manning, you can guard the door.”

   With a shrug, the technician drifted over to cover the exit, while Cooper slid his pistol into his holster, and started to work the controls. He’d spent a lot of time in Astrogation on Alamo over the last week, and almost knew what he was doing.

   “There it is,” Cantrell said. “The course computation.”

   He glanced up, then said, “I forgot you worked down on the sensor decks.”

   “Want me to take over?”

   “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got this.”

   “I’d be faster.”

   “Maybe I need the practice,” he replied. “Hold on, I think I’ve got it.”

   A series of calculations burst into life, and he breathed a sigh of relief; the ship had been heading back the way they came, towards the Cabal fleet that Alamo had recently defeated. There would be no help from that quarter, though no doubt the enemy commander would have been willing to make the attempt if they’d got the information.

   “We’d better get up to the bridge,” Cantrell said, looking at the door.

   “No hurry, Spaceman. I haven’t finished yet.”

   “You’ve got the information. We can send it over to Alamo and get on with securing the ship.”

   Turning to her with a frown, he replied, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Spaceman, but you are enjoying this far too much.”

   “I joined up to get some excitement, and this is the first chance I’ve really had.”

   His eyes widening, Cooper began, “Over the last four months….”

   “Yes, but I haven’t been able to do anything. Just down below decks putting things back together again, repairing battle damage or being terrified while things explode all around me. I wanted a chance to really get my hands dirty.”

   “Get your hands dirty?”

   Nodding, she said, “I wanted to see some action.”

   Cooper paused, turned to her, and said, “During the Interplanetary War, the average injury rate for Marines was 201%. Do you realize what that means? That on average, a man would be seriously wounded twice and still come back for another try. At one point, strategic command assumed that 25% of a detachment wouldn’t be coming back from a combat operation. I lost an older brother and an aunt that way.”

   “I’m sorry,” she began, but he continued.

   “Let’s look at some recent history. Out of a detachment of thirty Espatiers on Alamo, I’m the only one that is left – and because of my hand, as soon as I get back I’m going to be invalided out of the service. So basically, Alamo began with thirty and ended up with none. It’s a dangerous galaxy out there, but for the footsoldier – because despite our fancy training and equipment, that’s still essentially what we are – it is a million times worse.”

   “That’s my point,” she said.

   “What?”

   “I don’t see it as fair that you are taking the brunt of the casualties. I mean, I lost a couple of mates in the last battle when the sensor deck was hit, but you...you lost everyone. I wanted to do my share.”

   Sighing, Cooper replied, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

   “I’m sorry I hit a sore spot. I didn’t mean to.” She looked around, then asked, “Is it always like this?”

   “Usually it’s a damn sight worse. We didn’t lose anyone today.” He frowned, then continued, “You got lucky as well, you know.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You shot three people, and all of them are going to live.”

   “They were the enemy, and they were attacking us. What else would I have done?”

   “How old are you?” Cooper asked, shaking his head.

   “Eighteen, just before we left. I just finished Basic in time to be assigned to Alamo.”

   “Ah, you’re still a kid, then,” he said.

   “Really?” she replied, waving down at her uniform.

   “That doesn’t count,” Cooper said, turning back to his work.”

   “What will do it?”

   “I’ll tell you what did it for me,” he replied, “if you really want.”

   “Go on.”

   “I grew up the first time I killed someone, and watched one of my friends die in front of me. If I were you, I’d try and find an easier way.” He looked up for a moment, and his gaze seemed to be focus a long way away. “I wish to hell I had.”

   A light beeped on the console, and he was drawn back to the system, his face breaking out into a smile that widened as he realized that he had found what he had been searching for. Alamo might not have been able to put the pieces together, but Ouroboros had been able to give him the last piece of the puzzle.

   “That’s it!” he said, grabbing Cantrell by the shoulder. “Get on the other terminal, pull up everything you can find about the system I’ve highlighted. The whole works, and get it downloaded to Alamo’s mainframe as fast as you can.”

   Peering down at the display, she said, “Why?”

   “Because, Spaceman, that’s where the prisoners they took from us are being held. At least a dozen members of my platoon have been taken there, and I want to get them back.”

   Looking up, she replied, “There are no habitable planets in that system. It’s much too hot.”

   “A planet doesn’t have to be habitable to be inhabited, does it?”

   Sighing, she started to read out, “Let’s see. Denebola, nineteen planets by the IAU definition, including six gas giants, all ice. Lost of dry dusty moons, hmm…”

   “What?”

   “Three asteroid belts, and one of them close in. Good for resource extraction if it wasn’t so far from Sol.” Looking up, blushing, she said, “My father is an asteroid prospector.”

   “Hell, sounds perfect.”

   “One planet in the Goldilocks zone, but even if the star wasn’t too bright, it wouldn’t be any good. According to this readout it’s a carbon-type, lots of nasty stuff in the atmosphere. Pressure and temperature are fine, though. You wouldn’t need a full spacesuit, just a respirator.”

   “We’ve settled less promising worlds. Go on.”

   “It is inhabited. Reference database lists a population of 15,000 citizens, 85,000 workers. Whatever that means.”

   “Indentured, probably. Like in the bad old days on Mars before the Revolution. Or criminals, prisoners...what about military assets?”

   “Cooper…”

   “Gabe.”

   With a smile, she continued, “Gabe, this is a civilian database.”

   “It should have facilities listed, for purposes of navigation if nothing else.”

   “One spaceport, no serious facilities, though. There’s an orbital defense station, but I’d guess that’s normal, nothing special. Gabe, this could be a pretty big hub. A major industrial facility.”

   “That it could.”

   She looked up at him, then said, “I’m a s
ensor specialist, not an astrogator – and hell, I just repair stuff, I don’t do anything more than that, but this is going to be a long run. Several jumps, there and back, and through Cabal territory worse than we’ve been through before.”

   “I know.”

   “You think the Captain’s going to take Alamo back to rescue them? After all, we’ve only got the word of a traitor that they are there at all.”

   “Right now, we have. I bet when we start digging into the Cabal database for it, we’re going to find a lot of evidence that captured prisoners of one sort or another are being used for industrial work. Probably the dangerous kind. They’d want expendable people for that.”

   “Which makes it more urgent to get them out,” she said. Shaking her head, she continued, “Gabe, I’d go for it. But I think if the Captain told the crew that after our repairs, we were going to double back into Cabal space, there would be a mutiny. All that people are talking about is going home. They’ve already pulled off a miracle.”

   “I know. I feel the same way, but...let’s leave it to the Captain. He told me that if there was a chance of getting our people back, he’d take it. I don’t think he’d go back on his word.”

   “He might not have a choice.”

   Silently, Cooper turned back to his console, clearing the course information he had harvested, and working his way into the system status setup, filing through reports to try and find his way to the central telltales.

   “What are you looking at now?” Cantrell asked.

   “I want to give the Captain an alternative.”

  Chapter 5

   Marshall sat in his office, skimming through the after-action report on the taking of Ouroboros, periodically tapping out notes on the datapad, recommending citations for individual crewmembers. He shook his head as he read about the battle of the corridor; a good piece of work, but too risky, especially Cooper’s involvement.

   “Sir,” a voice chirped from the desk speaker, “Mr. Price is on board now.”

   “Send him right in, Mr. Kibaki,” he told the watch officer. “Is Lieutenant Zebrova around?”