Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament

by Richard Tongue

   “Docking in twenty seconds, sir,” Maqua said. “Final approach programmed, hatch clear. We'll be in about thirty seconds ahead of the first wave of troopers.”

   “You heard the Midshipman,” Hunt said. “When that light flashes green, go right through and run like hell for the bridge. Watch your shots, but don't take any risks either.”

   “Good, Sarge,” Rhodes said. “I'll just take the shuttle back, then.”

   “I wouldn't get to attached to that new stripe of yours, Rhodes,” Hunt replied. “I don't think you'll have it long.”

   Salazar suppressed a smile at the two old adversaries sparring. It was almost a warm-up routine for them now, a way of psyching themselves up before a battle. The engineers at the rear looked rather less sanguine as they fumbled with their weapons, anxiously looking at the hatch.

   “Don't worry,” Salazar said. “I don't expect any of you to have to fight a real battle. Fitzroy, you're the senior here, right?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “Come with us to the bridge. I'll be wanting you to take charge over there and make sure systems are transferred to wherever the hell Auxiliary Control is. Unless we can get a real crew rustled up from somewhere. Once we've done that, join one of the damage control teams.”

   “Should we take our toolkits then, sir?”

   “As long as they won't slow you down.”

   “Five seconds!” Maqua called.

   “Here we go,” Salazar said, pulling on a spare set of combat armor, tossing his jacket onto an empty couch in the corner. Hunt stood next to him, rifle in hand, the rest of the fire team in position to follow. The light flashed green, and the door slid open to reveal a bare, empty corridor before them. Without a word, they sprinted from the shuttle, their boots pounding on the hard metal floor.

   If he remembered the layout of this level correctly, they were only a hundred meters from the bridge, though with a few twists and turns along the way. Sirens blared through the air, and the walls were bathed in red light from the panels, warning of the imminent arrival of the enemy. As they raced past a junction, Private Lopez dropped to the ground, taking position behind a pile of scattered ration boxes to cover their advance. Or, if things went wrong, their retreat.

   Maqua was the last out of the shuttle, locking the hatch behind him, but quickly began to outpace the technicians to move to the lead. As they charged past another junction, Martinez ready to take cover, a series of shots rang out, sending the advancing party diving behind anything they could find.

   “I thought we were ahead of them!” Rhodes said. “Damn it, they're here already. Maybe they already had scouts on board.”

   “Wait, is that you?” a familiar voice said. Salazar looked around the corner to see a group of Neander, shook his head and climbed to his feet.

   “Aussketi, next time, look before you shoot.”

   “We didn't know anyone was coming,” the Neander officer replied. “I've got a crew together to secure the bridge.” She glared at Maqua at the rear, but said nothing, though the midshipman looked down at the deck, his face reddening.

   “I thought Ghewon had evacuated,” Rhodes said.

   Shaking his head, Salazar raced down the corridor, yelling, “I suggest we discuss this later. We're ten seconds to company! Maqua, tell Alamo to bring the reinforcements in right here.”

   Aussketi, hefting a fearsome-looking rifle, jogged alongside him, saying, “We've got a reserve force assembling in the Recreation Deck. Kelot's waiting to see where they come in before he commits his forces.”

   “We might not have time for that,” Hunt said. “If we let them get a foothold...”

   “And if we guess wrong, Sergeant, they might take the ship. Those pods are coming in on a vector that gives them more than two hundred access points, and that's assuming they don't decide to just cut their way in.” Shaking her head, she added, “Further, they've got to take this ship or die in the attempt. They've got nowhere else to go.”

   As they sprinted into the bridge, Salazar said, “Key areas. They'll be after...”

   “Don't worry about that. Kelot and I worked out a list days ago. Every critical section of the ship is defended.” With a scowl, she added, “Though we thought that was the case with the fuel tanks, to be fair.”

   One of the other Neander walked over to a sensor display, turned, and said, “Ma'am, they're coming in on the Third Deck.”

   Aussketi frowned, then said, “Why there? There's nothing important in that area. It's mostly food production down there. Carniculture vats, hydroponic bays.” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Salazar. “Damn. I was expecting ship functions, but if they take out the food supplies...”

   “A lot of hungry people out here.”

   “Elevator at the end of the corridor. I'll get Kelot moving,” she said, racing to a communications terminal. With a nod, Salazar led Hunt and the Espatiers back out of the room, collecting their rear guard as they went, and the six crewmen crowded into the elevator with their equipment, the engineers remaining behind to help the Neander on the bridge.

   “He shouldn't have evacuated,” Salazar said, shaking his head. “Ghewon left the damn bridge empty with no one to guard it. One grenade...” He looked at Maqua, and said, “Sorry.”

   “No, sir, you were right.” He sighed, and said, “It's been a long time since we've had to think of things like this. I guess we're out of practice.”

   “Better let me take point, sir,” Hunt said, pushing past Salazar. “Rhodes, with me!”

   Nodding, the trooper said, “Burke, Lopez, rear guard. Watch the junctions, and fire discipline. Every smashed piece of equipment hurts us down here.”

   The door opened, and the group sprinted forward into a field of fire, a pair of Xandari wildly shooting all around them, scattering them to the deck. Burke caught a bullet full on his front and cursed as he tumbled back, Lopez reaching out to drag him behind cover. They had opened out into a huge room, bathed in light from the ceiling, green and brown vats full of what would at some point be a passable imitation of food. Up ahead, figures moved, disgorged from their escape pods, all of them armed and armored for battle.

   “We move, we're dead,” Rhodes said, matter-of-factly. “They've got us in three places.” He reached out and took a quick shot, three bullets slamming into the pipe in front of him in response, spilling purple liquid across the metal deck. “See what I mean?”

   “Setting charges,” Hunt added, gesturing at some of the figures at the back. “Best guess is that they'll rig the place to blow, then bug out to somewhere else. Plenty of targets for them if they don't care whether they live through it or not.”

   Salazar shook his head, and said, “We can't let them destroy these tanks. It's the only food supply for four thousand people.”

   “Reinforcements won't be long,” Rhodes said.

   “And what makes you think they'll be any better off than we are,” Salazar replied, looking out at the largest cluster of enemy troops, hustled around a huge carniculture vat. “Hmm. Who's the best shot here?”

   “I am,” Lopez said, moving forward.

   “Can you put me a pair of holes in that tank?”

   “I thought we were supposed to be stopping them damaging this stuff,” Rhodes protested.

   Nodding, Lopez replied, “I can do that from here.”

   “One at the top, one at the bottom. Once the fun starts, run right for them and start shooting at anything that isn't food.”

   The trooper lined up the shot, Rhodes offering his shoulder as a rest. As a pair of Xandari moved up on either side, trying to flank them, the sniper gently eased the trigger back twice, twitching down his aim with the second shot. Yells and screams sounded from the far end of the hall as a thick, viscous brown liquid shot out of the tank, running over the floor, sending a couple of dozen troopers slipping and sliding around.

   Taking that as t
heir cue, the Triplanetary force moved forward, scattering across the room, shots ringing out all around them as they moved to new positions, deep into the forest of vats and domes. Salazar took an easy shot at a struggling Xandari warrior, who quickly grew still as a red stain drained across his chest, and Rhodes slid in beside him, shaking his head.

   “What a mess!”

   “Remind me to tell you about the first time I did this someday,” Salazar said with a smile. Up ahead, the Xandari were moving around, out to new cover, forming themselves into firing positions, leaving half a dozen corpses behind. He glanced behind him, and saw a group of Neander fanning inside, taking advantage of their toehold in the room to fill in the gaps.

   “Kelot sent us,” the nearest yelled. “More coming, all directions.”

   “Nice and stealthy,” Rhodes muttered, shaking his head. “You realize that sooner or later...”

   “They're going to blow the place anyway, whether they've managed to get out or not,” Salazar replied. “Way ahead of you, Corporal.” He looked across at Hunt, and flashed a quick series of hand signals, directing the troopers around on both sides. They were going to have to take them quickly, or risk losing everything they had gained. Looking back at the eager Neander filing into the room, he sighed quietly, hoping that they would follow up the assault, or at least not do too much damage to their advance.

   On the silent count of three, he moved out of cover, keeping down low, a shot smashing into the vat behind him, smothering him in a flood of green slime. Rhodes moved past him, firing a series of shots to pin down the enemy, and the two of them raced through the room. On the left, Hunt and the rest of the squad followed, leading the eager Neander who started to surge ahead, threatening to move past the trained troops in their urge for battle.

   The Xandari had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and were surrounded. A sane commander would have surrendered, but the word could not be found in their vocabulary. Shots rang out through the room, the Neander taking the brunt of the damage, Burke falling over again, knocked unconscious this time, blood from a wound on his side. Salazar cursed under his breath, and pushed on, taking a shot at a careless enemy who made the mistake of leaving his arm out of cover for a split second, long enough for Salazar to make the most of the advantage.

   All around, the battle raged, Neander ignoring tactical wisdom to take revenge on their former captors, charging into gunfire, willing to spend their lives to end theirs. As he watched, one of them was thrown backwards into the wall, his front riddled with bullet marks, the corpse sliding down to the deck underneath a blue-green algae vat, the strange light shining on his dead eyes.

   A beeping sound rang out beside him, and he turned to look at a pair of small black boxes, covered in winking lights, the noise seeming to grow louder and louder. With a glance at Rhodes, he snatched up the charges, then ran forward, ducking and rolling to snatch another one. The Neander could cope with the battle now. He had to make sure they won the war.

   Rhodes was right behind him, and Lopez only a pace before that, picking up the abandoned bombs as they ran towards what he hoped was a refuse airlock, a long shaft with a half-open hatch. Unceremoniously, he bundled his deadly payload down the hatch, the others adding to the package, and desperately looked around for a release lever, finally gambling on a long, thin switch. The outer hatch slammed shut, and there was a loud thud as the atmosphere escaped, taking the bombs with them.

   A roar filled the air, and the battle grew silent, the Xandari clustered around the few charges Salazar hadn't been able to reach in time. The smell of raw meat filled the air, and the floor was splattered with the residue of dozens of shattered vats, a green and brown rain that smothered everyone within range.

   As he wiped his slimy forehead with a greasy hand, Salazar looked over at the side of the room, dazed Neander slowly moving forward. Maybe a fifth of the food production was destroyed, more of it damaged, but at least they'd saved the rest. As far as he could see, all of the Xandari were dead. Certainly their bodies littered the battlefield. Behind him, Sergeant Gurung moved forward, shaking his head, leading the reinforcements.

   “Take over, Sergeant,” Salazar said, leaving a trail on the filthy floor as he moved forward. “Secure the area and get a clean-up crew in here on the double. If anyone wants me, I'll be in the shower. Probably for the next few days.”

  Chapter 4

   Lieutenant Kristen Harper stepped out onto Alamo's hangar deck, a trio of technicians saluting as she formally boarded the ship. It took a second for her to respond, managing to return the salute with reasonable precision, before heading to the elevator. It felt strange to be back on board, even though she'd only been off the battlecruiser for a couple of weeks. Already, Daedalus felt like home.

   “Hold it, Kris,” Salazar said, jogging after her, stepping inside the elevator a few seconds before the doors slammed shut, sending them hurtling towards the briefing room. “Whew.”

   “Not a good idea to keep the Captain waiting.”

   “I only got back on board a few minutes before you. It's a hell of a mess over there, and I don't have much confidence in the clean-up crew.” He shrugged, and said, “I guess that's what happens when you expect people to just pick up where they left off after six, eight years in captivity.”

   “The crew of Hercules managed it.”

   “That's different. They were all military, and they'd been marooned on a starship. If nothing else, they could keep in practice.” Waving his thumb, he added, “That's a bunch of scared civilians out there, wanting nothing else than to get home as fast as they can. I can't blame them.”

   The door slid open, and Jack Quinn, Alamo's harried Systems Officer, stepped in, immediately saying, “Pavel, I haven't had the latest set of repair reports from Ausori.”

   “And you aren't likely to get them for a while, sir,” he said, shaking his head. “There are six different people over the fighting it out about who is in charge of the maintenance department, and Ghewon isn't about to make a decision any time soon.”

   With a sigh, Quinn said, “I never thought I'd be demanding paperwork, but we need to know what they're short of.”

   “Corner Ghewon and Molpa,” Harper said. “They're both coming over on the next shuttle.”

   “I will,” he said, and the doors opened at the command level. The trio walked through the bustling bridge, exchanging brief nods with the duty officer, and into the briefing room. Orlova and Nelyubov were already there, sitting at the end of the table, surrounded by empty chairs.

   “Are we early?” Salazar asked.

   “Everyone else is late,” Orlova replied. “Take a seat.”

   Quinn moved to his usual position at the far end of the table, Harper and Salazar unconsciously ignoring the sitting plan and taking chairs next to each other, Orlova and Nelyubov exchanging a brief glance as they took their places.

   “That was a hell of a stunt, Kris,” Nelyubov said.

   “It looked a bit familiar,” Salazar added with a smile.

   She shrugged, and replied, “Professionals steal. Someone taught me that a long time ago. I'm just glad it worked.”

   “Next time, warn me first,” Orlova said. “I almost had a heart attack when I saw you sliding in front of those missiles.”

   “So did I, and I gave the order,” Harper replied.

   “How's the ship?” Orlova asked.

   “About as good as we can get it short of a shipyard,” she said, pulling out a datapad and picking through the files with her finger. “There are a lot of improvements I'd like to make, but we'd need to do a complete upgrade of the power distribution network to support the load, to say nothing of modifications to the reactor. We've improved up the rearming process to something better than a slow crawl, but it still isn't up to combat specifications. As for the thrusters...”

   With a smile, Nelyubov interrupted, “Never mind the modifications. You're ge
tting as bad as Jack.” The engineer threw him a hurt look as he continued, “Can she handle another couple of jumps without serious work?”

   “Not a problem,” Harper said. “Don't worry about my girl. She isn't the weak link in the chain here.”

   “And I think we all know who is,” Salazar added. The door opened, and Cooper stepped in, followed by Senior Lieutenant Powell, Alamo's Science Officer. “That's why I invited Aussketi to the meeting.”

   “About that,” Orlova said. “Customarily, the Captain puts the guest list together.”

   He nodded, and said, “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I had a feeling that if I went through channels someone would have blocked it. She was there during the battle, and of all the people in the senior command structure over there, she's the only one who seems to have any real idea what she is doing.”

   “I'd have to agree,” Cooper added. “That ship is being run by an ever-changing committee at the moment, and the figures at the top are changing so fast I can't keep up. I know they haven't had it easy over there...”

   “Are you about to suggest that I place a Triplanetary officer in command of the Ausori?”

   Cooper and Salazar glanced at each other, the former finally saying, “I think it would be a lot safer if you did, ma'am, and I suspect that there are people over there who would welcome a little stability.”

   Looking back at him, Orlova replied, “If our roles were reversed, Ensign, I suspect that I would be suggesting something along similar lines, but the answer has to be no. We need the support and friendship of the Interstellar Collective if we're going to complete our mission, and usurping the command of one of their ships, even under these circumstances, isn't going to win us any points. We're going to have to work with what we have.”

   “From a legal standpoint, I don't think we have the power to install our own people in any case,” Nelyubov said.