Taking a deep breath, Orlova said, “The purpose of this meeting is quite simple. The local leadership have requested that we provide them with an escort back to their own space, in exchange for which they are willing to give us all the information that we came out here to get. Not only does this allow us to accomplish our mission expeditiously, but it would give us a chance to establish a friendly relationship with a government who has every reason to support us in our war against the Xandorian Empire.”
“Assuming we want one,” Harper said. “After what Pavel told me, I don't know of these are the sort of allies we need.”
“The enemy of my enemy,” Cantrell began.
“Is, more often than not, also ours,” Powell noted. “I think we need to tread extremely carefully, Captain, though I would welcome the chance to obtain any information we can get.” Tapping a control, he brought a star-map into existence over the table, showing a six-jump route through uncharted space, one of the stars not even possessing a reference number. “I have confirmed the planned course to their homeworld, six jumps, assuming we proceed via Testament Station.”
“An installation whose existence is only a matter of conjecture,” Quinn said.
“Perhaps, but if I was placing a free port in this part of the galaxy, that's the location I would select,” Powell replied. “There are ten stars within range. That's extremely unusual.” With a smile, he said, “If there isn't a station there now, I'd like to suggest we have one constructed.”
“In terms of the actual flight path, then,” Orlova said, “You believe that this mission is feasible.”
“I do.” Looking around the room, he added, “And, with due caution, I would recommend that we provide them with the help they are seeking. The opportunities for exploration and study are excellent, far greater than if we proceed on our intended route.”
“That isn't really an option, Professor,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “We suffered serious damage in that battle, Captain. Enough that I would strongly recommend that we return home, to a safe port.” Holding up a datapad for emphasis, he continued, “The hits to the superstructure have compromised our armor, and our power distribution nodes were badly damaged as well. Not to mention all the other problems. Part of it is a question of time, and engineer-hours. More of it is that I need to get down into the guts of the ship. I can't do that on the run.”
Shaking her head, Cantrell said, “They only scored ten hits on us. I can't believe that they were so severe.”
“In the right place, one hit can destroy a ship, Lieutenant,” the engineer replied. “In this case, they knew exactly where to hit us, and exactly what they were doing. I'm afraid we're going to have to assume that we've had a serious intelligence leak.” Glaring at Cantrell, he replied, “Our Counter-Intelligence people have obviously not been doing their job.”
“Are you implying something by that?”
“That's enough,” Orlova said, in a quiet voice that somehow managed to dominate the room. “We haven't got the time for an argument, and I don't have the patience to sit here and listen to it. You're supposed to be senior department heads. Act like it.” Looking at Quinn, she continued, “To summarize, you think we should head home.”
He paused, then nodded, replying, “If we were sure that this Testament Station had everything we needed, and that it was a secure facility we could depend upon, I might change my mind about that, but the safe option is to return to Yeager Station. Hell, we could take the freighter with us.”
“I already suggested that to Lostok,” Orlova said, “and he indicated that he planned to proceed to their homeworld regardless. I suppose I can understand that position.”
Frowning, Nelyubov replied, “When I was down on the surface, I did hear from several people who had other ideas. Molpa, for example, their senior engineer. If we go home, we might well end up taking quite a few people with us.”
Nodding, Quinn said, “I can make some alterations to the storage bays, as long as you don't mind me jettisoning some material. If we're careful, I think Alamo could take an extra hundred and fifty people home, though we'll be stacking them in the corridors to do it. Maybe an additional twenty-five on Daedalus.” Looking around the room, he added, “It's just a drop in the ocean, but it's something.”
Cantrell glared at the engineer, then turned back to Orlova and said, “Why are we even having this discussion? The Neander are willing to give us everything we need, and more besides. Even if we can't negotiate an alliance, at the very least we'll get the information we've got to have to fight the Xandari.”
“We have information right now,” Quinn said, “which will be destroyed along with us if we don't make it home.”
Speaking from the surface, Cooper said, “The evacuation is going to be several types of hell, Captain. I've spoken to Pavel, and I know it's worrying him. They need Alamo to pull it off.” He paused, then added, “There are five thousand people down here wanting our help. I don't think we can do anything other than give it to them.”
“We can't let emotion get in the way,” Quinn said.
“Jack, some of them are kids,” he replied. “You want to tell them that Alamo is running off and leaving them to die? Because that's what's going to happen if we don't escort them home.”
Nodding, Harper said, “It's the right thing to do.”
“That can't be the basis of a decision,” Nelyubov said. “I understand what you're both saying, but we simply can't risk the long-term future of our people based on our emotions. If it was a simple as that, I'd be standing on the table, shouting for us to charge to battle, but damn it all to hell, we've got to look at the bigger picture.”
“What about a compromise?” Kibaki suggested. “Escort them as far as Testament Station, get our repairs, then head home from there.”
“Worst of both worlds, Lieutenant,” Cantrell replied. “They'd still have to break through the enemy lines, and that's going to be the hardest part.” Shaking her head, she said, “What about Daedalus?”
With a faint smile, Orlova replied, “Oddly enough, I thought about that, but she's only got a two-jump range, and I'm not willing to let our refueling shuttle go. We're going to need it.”
“There's no way of modifying her to take extra fuel?” Kibaki replied. “I checked the specifications, and the Agamemnon...”
“Spent four months having improved tanks installed at Mariner Station,” Quinn said. “We don't have the facilities, and we certainly don't have the time.” Glancing at Harper, he added, “I've looked over the work Harper's team has done, and I think she's fit for space, but she isn't going to solve our immediate problem.”
Shaking her head, Cantrell said, “What information do we actually have at the moment that's so damn valuable, anyway? The location of one, count it, one abandoned settlement on the frontiers of Xandari territory, and a lexicon of their language. Some computer code that might give us an edge with electronic warfare, given months of work with a quantum computer.”
“It will,” Harper pressed. “Trust me on this.”
“That's all the more reason to get home, then,” Kibaki said. “I'm forced to agree with Jack.”
“No,” she replied. “We might get more information, speed up the process. I can make a start, right here on Alamo, even with the resources we have.”
“Testament Station intrigues me,” Powell said. “A melting-pot of cultures that might give us a lead for further explorations. I've checked the records, and there is no notification of it, though it might explain a few anomalies in traffic reports to some of the more distant UN outposts.”
Raising a hand, Orlova said, “To sum up, then, the choice is simple. Either we go back now with the information we have, taking anyone who wants to come with us home, or we head further out and take a chance on surviving the trip.”
“And if we go home, we do it with thousands of lives on our conscience,
” Cooper said. “Let's be absolutely clear about that. People will die.”
Nodding, Orlova said, “Jack, from an engineering standpoint, can we complete the three-jump journey to Testament Station?”
“If everything goes according to plan, then I believe we can, ma'am. I suppose it isn't any different in that respect than the trip back to Thule, and Yeager Station, but I don't like the idea of making such a leap into the dark with a damaged vessel.”
Orlova said, “Then I will, once again, recommend to Lostok that he should accompany us back to Yeager Station, where his people can either accept refugee status in the Triplanetary Confederation or await the dispatch of a full-scale task force to their homeworld.” Quinn nodded, a smile creeping across his face, which was dashed by her next words. “If he refuses, then I will inform him that Alamo will accompany him home, on the understanding that such an alliance will be rewarded by the provision of the critical intelligence data we came out here to get.”
“That's a hell of a risk, Captain,” Kibaki said.
“One that we all knew we were taking when we set off on this journey in the first place,” she replied. “We were making a leap into the unknown anyway, Jack. The only difference is that we now have some local guides to show us the way. The Confederation needs the information that the Neander can provide us, and if we can get them to fight on our side, we can end this war far more expeditiously.”
Nodding, Nelyubov said, “I agree. I think it is a risk, a considerable one, but that the payoff is sufficient to justify it.”
Looking around the room, she said, “If anyone wishes to oppose this decision, then I will note their objections in the log.” When no one replied, she continued, “In that case, then I think we've all got a lot of work to do, and no time in which to do it. We'll leave the system as soon as we can, and make passage to Testament Station.” With a smile at Quinn, she added, “Where, I very much hope, we'll have a chance to put the pieces back together again.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I really hope so. You're taking a big gamble, ma'am.”
“I want full status reports from every department within the hour,” she ordered, attempting to ignore his glare. “Dismissed.”
The officers rose to their feet, filing out of the room, Nelyubov remaining lounged in his chair next to her, looking at the slowly rotating starfield, the twisting line of their projected course racing from star to star.”
“Go on, Frank,” she said, as the last one passed through the door. “If I'm making a bad call, I need to know about it. That's your job, remember. To keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Shaking his head, he replied, “I don't envy you the decision, Maggie. As far as I can see, you're damned whichever way you decide to jump. Go back now, and we don't have all the information we came out here to get. No one will blame you, not given the damage we've sustained, but Commodore Marshall won't have anywhere to go other than, well, here. And with a ship full of refugees abandoned to their fate, the odds of making a treaty with the Collective collapse.”
Rising to his feet, he paced to the end of the room, adding, “On the other hand, none of that information is worth a damn thing if the ship is destroyed, and we're talking about a three-month journey through enemy territory. I just wish we had more up-to-date information on Testament Station. I'll take a look at the traffic logs Powell talked about if I can find a few minutes, but I've got to assume that Intelligence would have spotted anything conclusive if there was anything out there to find. Any trace of it could only be in hindsight.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “I'm going to try to convince Lostok to take the safe option. Damn it all, though, I can't just sit back and watch while thousands of people die.”
“I suppose there is another option,” Nelyubov said, turning to her. “Take control of the transport ourselves, and force the issue. Hack into the navigation computer and send it back to the Confederation regardless of what Lostok and his Merry Men want to do.”
“And if that goes wrong, we end up at war with two interstellar nations, rather than one.”
With a smile, he said, “I know, I know, but I can dream, anyway. There is another point, as well, that occurs to me. The Xandari will be expecting us to head for the nearer safe port, for our own territory. If they do send a task force to find us, it wouldn't hurt to have them heading in the wrong direction.” He paused, then added, “In fact, it might not be a bad idea to leave a few clues pointing that way lying around for them to find.”
“Get Powell on it,” she replied. “Have him leave some astrographic projections lying around on the surface, and get his people chattering about it to their counterparts on the surface. I'd bet that little base of theirs is monitoring everything we do.”
Nodding, Nelyubov said, “If it helps, I think you're doing the right thing.”
“Thanks, Frank,” she replied. “Come on. Let's get to work.”
Chapter 13
The shuttle soared above the planet, giving the three people in the cockpit a spectacular view of the surface below, the gleaming ice reflecting the sunlight. Maqua, stared down at it, shaking his head in disbelief, while Aussketi, in the flight engineer's seat, ruefully stared forward, occasionally glancing across at her controls. Salazar glanced back at her, then looked across at the his co-pilot.
“Enjoying the show?” he asked.
“It's amazing,” the young Neander said. “We didn't get to see it when we were brought here. It might have been hell to live there, but its beautiful from orbit.”
“I don't mind if I never see it again,” Aussketi replied. “Besides, don't we have a job to do? We haven't got the time to waste on sightseeing.”
“On the contrary,” Salazar said. “For the next ten minutes, there isn't anything else we can do. The computer is locked onto the transport, and can handle the turnover by itself. I won't be needed again until the time comes for docking.”
Looking at Maqua, she said, “I still think we should change seats.”
“You're lucky I brought you at all,” Salazar said. “Maqua got top marks in the simulators, and you managed to narrowest scrape over the line I've ever seen.”
“I've spent more time in shuttle cockpits...”
“And evidently, weren't paying much attention. Go back and take a look at the engine manifolds, if you want something to do, and check on our passengers. I want to make sure they're getting all of the data they need.”
Rising from her chair, she looked at Salazar, and said, “My ancestors were sailing the stars while his were rooting for grubs. I was born to this. He was born to serve. I suggest you remember that.”
Shaking his head as she left, Salazar turned to Maqua and said, “I still don't understand any of this nonsense.”
With a sigh, the young pilot said, “As I understand it, your people invented faster-than-light travel only a century after you first ventured out into space. You'd barely begun to colonize the other planets in your system by the time you had learned how to reach others.”
“It took a little longer than that, but I take it you had a harder road.”
“We were fortunate, after a fashion. Three worlds with life were within a few light-years of each other, and each of us knew of the other's existence shortly after we discovered radio. We could provide technological assistance, exchange messages and signals, even share cultural developments. When we had learned enough, we sent ships to cross the void between our worlds. Trips that took decades, even with the fastest vessels our science could create.” Gesturing at the transport on the screen, he said, “That was one of ours, a small sample of a slower-than-light starship.”
Nodding, Salazar replied, “No wonder you're so sure you can modify it.”
“The Highborn became wealthy, the heirs to vast fortunes gained from the trading runs between the worlds. Naturally, no one had dreamed that faster-than-light trave
l would be possible.”
With a smile, he replied, “I see what happened. There was no impetus to work on such projects, research discouraged if it meant disrupting long-established monopolies. I suppose eventually, someone figured out the hendecaspace drive.”
“Less than two generations ago. Our worlds have been nominally united for centuries, but it is only in the last forty years that it meant more than mere words and the occasional exchange of ambassadors, families who passed their charge from father to son. Still, it was the Highborn who had the money, and they who built the ships.”
Sighing, Salazar said, “And felt they had a right to crew them, and for preferential treatment. Economic success translating into a caste system, over the generations. It's bound to be disrupted, sooner or later, though. I'd have expected that a twenty-year war would have made quite a difference.”
“Only in that we must accept that they cannot shoulder the entire defense burden alone, and that we must recruit from the other communities to man the space fleets. We retain the command role, and the ownership.”
“Your military uses privately owned starships?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Converted from civilian to military use, a rent paid to their owner, as well as assurances that they select the senior staff. Oh, there were protests and complaints, and every year they select a few outsiders for admission to their ranks, though always those with wealth, power and influence of their own. Maybe it will change, some day.”
The shuttle spun around, slowing itself down as it headed for its rendezvous with the transport, now just about visible on the screen ahead, a huge brown fist hanging in orbit over the dull gray moon. Salazar could make out the missile impacts through the viewer, shaking his head at the gashes in the hull.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Forbidden Seas Page 12