Scott turned to Salazar, and said, “We could cut acceleration. Catch them by surprise.”
“And they'd do the same, and we'd have longer in combat range.”
“But we'd give Harper longer to work a miracle.”
“If she doesn't pull it off in the time we have, then I doubt it will make any real difference anyway. One more minute more or less could kill us. Quesada, pull us out of the dive as rapidly as you can, and make sure that all of your simulations are as up to date as you can manage. We'll be reliant on dead reckoning all the way.” Turning to Carpenter, he asked, “Are the observers ready?”
“Positioned in the forward and aft airlocks with image intensifiers, connected to the bridge by data cable.” She shook her head, and said, “I can't believe that we're being reduced to sending crewmen to look out of the window to gather data for us.”
“I think we're getting a taste of what it is like to fight Foster's wizards. I can't say that I like it very much. Has the probe data given us any sort of a lead on how the jamming field operates?”
“Not in the slightest, sir,” Scott replied. “Hell, it might as well be magic. All we do know is that it creates what amounts to an instant data overload, slicing right through the firewall.” She frowned, then added, “Meaning they could do all sorts of nasty things to our system if they wanted.”
“I got the impression that the Hierarchy don't understand the systems any more than we do.”
“Lucky for us.”
“Sir, I have Major Moran,” Bowman said. “Tight-beam, encrypted.”
“Put her on,” he said, and the image of Endurance's commander appeared. “What's your status, Major?”
“Cleared for action, Captain, and ready to begin the battle plan on your order. I'm still not sure about this, but I'll follow your orders. We've had no signals from Roanoke and Darlan, not officially, but I know they've sent a few messages to the lower decks. I guess they're under the assumption that they might still have friends over here.”
“Let's hope so,” he replied. “Our figures have us running into the jamming field in a little under eight minutes. All of your combat systems are ready?”
“Mass drivers are loaded, set for wide-proximity and visual tracking. Don't worry, Captain, we've got you covered until your Lieutenant Harper can disable the jammer.” She paused, and added, “I had another rummage through our database. We've got no overt information on it, but it explains some of the odder personnel assignments to the outpost on the Sphere. I'd love to take a look at it. Might give us an advantage next time we take them on.”
“I think we ought to win this battle before we start planning the next. We'll be sending you tactical updates right to the last minute. Good hunting. Alamo out.” Looking up at Scott, he said, “What's the count?”
“Seven minutes, forty seconds.”
Tapping a control on his chair, he said, “All hands, this is the Captain.” It still felt strange to say that, even after six weeks. He couldn't help but expect to see Captain Marshall or Captain Orlova walking out of the office, ready to assume command. “We'll be going into action in a few minutes, and expect to lose all internal and external communications. That means that each and every one of you will be reliant on your own initiative, your own skills. Trust your instincts, and if you see something that needs doing, don't wait for the order. Get it done. I have faith in your judgment and your abilities. Both will be tested to the utmost today. Good luck. Battle Stations.”
“All hands,” Scott added, “Stand by your battle stations. This is no drill. Department Chiefs report to Lieutenant Carpenter on the double. Fighters prepare for scramble on request.” Turning to Salazar, she said, “Not many department heads at their stations today.”
“Not a problem,” Quesada quipped. “The Chiefs do most of the real work anyway. We're just here to make it look good.”
“I'm glad to see you paid attention during your cadet cruise, Sub-Lieutenant,” Salazar replied. “I've met commanding officers who haven't worked out that little secret.”
“All decks reporting in,” Carpenter said. “I think the crew was already on the alert.”
“Good,” Salazar said.
“Sir?” Bowman said, “I have a signal from the surface. A Commander Klein would like to speak with you. He's transmitting via the relay we spotted.” Tapping a control, he added, “I've plotted the location now. We could try a missile strike if you wanted to isolate them.”
“Bad idea,” Scott said. “If they can't talk, they can't surrender.”
“Good, optimistic thinking,” Salazar said. “How long?”
“Six minutes, thirty seconds,” Scott said.
“Then put Commander Klein on, by all means, Spaceman.”
The image of the sphere flickered out, replaced with a man standing in front of a white background, obviously digitally enhanced to remove any hint of his location. Salazar sat back on his chair, forcing a smile to his face.
“Is there something I can do for you, Commander?” he asked. “I'd be more than happy to accept your unconditional surrender.”
“It won't work,” Klein said, bluntly. “Your assault team is good, but I've still got thirty men down here, all of them combat veterans, and a group of sword-wielding maniacs isn't going to break through our defenses. I don't know what game you think you are playing, but I'll tell you right now that unless you surrender at once, I'll have to kill all of our prisoners.”
“Sword-wielding maniacs?” Scott asked, baffled.
“Don't act as if you don't know!” Klein yelled. He paused, took a deep breath, and said, “I'm willing to be reasonable. I can imagine that you might have been sucked in by Moran and her people. We've got plans to deal with them. If Alamo veers off, heads out towards the outer belt, I'll load all of your people onto a shuttle and set them to an intercept course. That's a ticket out of the fight, but the offer expires in one minute. Unless you want to share the fate of Monitor, I suggest you seriously consider your decision.”
“I don't need anything like that long to think about it, Klein. You know my assault team is coming for you, and we both know that they're already carving through your defenses. With that jammer in operation, you're as blind as we are. Turn off the jammer, surrender, and I'll guarantee you a fair trial. That's the best I can do.”
The viewscreen unceremoniously winked out, replaced by the original view of the sphere, a wall of dull metal rising seemingly to infinity. Carpenter walked over to Salazar, a frown on his face, then looked up at the tactical plot.
“Sword-wielding?”
“I'm guessing Clarke has decided to improvise. Don't ask me why or how.” He paused, then added, “At least we know that he made it into the caves. Kris has her reinforcements, even if they are somewhat unconventional.”
“I can't wait to get a look at the after-action report on this one, sir,” Scott said, turning back to her station.
“I'm with you on that one,” Carpenter added, shaking her head in disbelief.
Salazar nodded, and turned his attention back to the tactical display, watching as the four ships slowly slid towards the dotted line that indicated the sensor and communication dead area. A pair of crewmen stepped onto the bridge, moving to either side of the elevator, datapads in hand. Runners, in the event he needed to contact any other part of the ship. Though even optimistically, it could be ten minutes before he received a reply.
He'd fought battles under difficult circumstances before, but this was something new, something different. The idea of going into action without even being able to contact Engineering was strange, to say the least. All he could do was put his trust in the battle plan, and hope that either Harper or Clarke could reach the jammer in time to allow them to put Alamo's advantages to good use. With lasers and missiles at full operation, the two enemy ships wouldn't have a chance.
As he watched, En
durance slid into position behind Alamo, her turrets swinging around to aim at the enemy, preparing to launch a salvo when they came into range. Quesada frantically entered commands into the helm, fine-tuning his evasive course, constantly reworking the parameters, compromising between the gravity of the sphere and the need to avoid the impacts that would be coming from the two mass drivers.
He looked out at the sphere again, a frown flickering on his face. He should be down there, leading the assault team or the reinforcements. Not sitting up here on the bridge, waiting for the battle to begin, knowing that he would be little more than an observer as soon as it started. He might be comfortable with the idea of command, but it had never been a dream of his, no matter how many others might try and push it upon him. He could be Alamo's Captain, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Scott glanced across at him, and a look of concern appeared in her eyes, some trace of his inner feelings evidently leaking through. He smiled, nodded, and she turned back to her station, satisfied with his response.
“Probe Six away,” Ballard reported, a new target appearing on the screen. “It'll be running thirty seconds ahead of us. Should give us advance notice if the jamming field drops.”
“Four minutes, ten seconds to go,” Quesada said.
“Come on, Kris,” Salazar said. “Shut that damn thing down.”
Chapter 20
Harper eased herself down the corridor, glancing at the countdown clock on her heads-up display. Sneaking through the tunnels had slowed her progress drastically, and she now had only a handful of minutes left before Alamo would be trapped in the dead zone, vulnerable to attack. She'd spotted few guards in her flight, easily able to dodge those she'd spotted, and even the decoy had been left alone, the pursuers racing to some unknown destination, well out of range of the pickups.
A part of her dared to hope that somehow, against all the odds, Alamo had managed to arrange some assistance, but she had to assume that the mission was hers and hers alone. Her leg brushed against a rocky outcrop, the briefest touch causing her to wince in pain, and sending another dose of painkillers pumping into the affected area. She couldn't keep using them, not at the current rate. As it was, she was starting to feel light-headed, and the pistol nestled in her hand would be useless if she couldn't draw a bead on her target.
Her face locked into a grimace as she fired her thrusters, pushing herself down the middle of the corridor, heedless of the risks of detection. A warning light flashed on, and she cursed, her fuel down to the emergency reserve. She'd never make it back to the landing pad, even if there was a shuttle to rescue her, and whatever happened, she'd have to disable the device on site. Hopes of salvaging it were falling away, replaced only by a cold determination.
Up ahead, she spotted a shape moving in the distance, her image intensifier revealing it as another Hegemonic suit. She couldn't make out any weapons, and the figure was moving in a random direction, heading down a corridor that ultimately terminated in a dead-end, two miles away. Nowhere to hide, no significant cover, no sign of storage.
Throwing caution to the wind, she fired another pulse, leveling her pistol on the target, and flashed her helmet lights three times in quick succession, the fastest method she could think of to attract attention. With a start, the figure turned, holding his hands high in the air as he saw the weapon, his previous momentum sending him slowly gliding towards the wall.
She carefully eased towards him, then pulled out a data-cable, tossing it towards him, gesturing for him to plug it into his access port. He reached tentatively out for it, slowly sliding it into position, and a series of lights flickered across her screen as she logged onto his system.
“Lieutenant Harper? Is that you?”
“Maxwell?” she replied, with a sigh. “Not you as well?”
“What? No, I'm no traitor! I managed to get away from the others about fifteen minutes ago. We were being taken from one holding cell to another, I guess, and suddenly two-thirds of the guards just ran off. Heading towards the landing area, I think, though I'm not sure. There weren't enough of the bastards left to cover us, so two of us made a break for it. They got White, but I got clear. I was just trying to get my bearings when you found me.”
She frowned, then said, “Hanson had a similar story, but I suppose I'm going to need the help. I hope you don't mind if I decide to take out a little insurance policy.”
“As long as I get to read the terms and conditions.”
With a thin smile, she replied, “Simple. I'm taking full control of your lifesystem. If I decide you're doing something I don't approve of, or the cord gets cut, you automatically fall unconscious. If you have any problem with that, let me know now, so I can think of something else.”
Reaching into a pocket, Maxwell pulled out a second cord, and hurled it towards her, saying, “As long as we've got a backup, I'm willing to go along with it. I still can't believe Hanson was a traitor. He always was a loudmouthed bastard, but I didn't think he'd sell us out to the Hegemony.”
“You'll have a chance to ask him about it, assuming we live through this fight.”
“Something to look forward to,” he replied. “I don't have any weapons.”
“Hopefully our friends will provide some equipment for us later on, but we don't have time to hunt around for something now.” She entered a series of controls, and said, “I'm slaving your thruster controls to mine. Enjoy the ride.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Alamo and Endurance are moments away from running into some sort of hyper-tech jamming field. The generator is about a mile ahead, right down this corridor, and we've got to get there before our ships are disabled.” As she drifted past him, the thrusters on their two suits firing, she said, “I think there might be reinforcements on the way, but we can't count on them.”
“Got it,” he replied, sliding in behind her. “Lead the way.”
The pair flew down the passage, ducking and diving around, puffs of gas from their suits carrying them around corners as they raced towards their destination. All the time, the countdown clock relentlessly ticked down, as they closed on Point Theta, directly ahead. She glanced back at Maxwell, the engineer steadfastly following, snatching a chunk of rock from the wall as they passed. She looked at the pistol in her hand, and grimaced. Nine shots was all she had. No explosives, no plasma weapons, nothing. Unless this device had an obvious off switch, they were finished, and both Alamo and Endurance with them.
With five minutes to go, she reached the final corner, tapping controls to slow them to a stop, careful not to expose themselves to detection. Most of her internal systems were scrambled, amber warning lights dancing across her heads-up display, warning her of imminent systems failures. Her monitoring systems had failed, and her data access to Maxwell's suit had deteriorated, even through the cable.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Just about, but I think it's just through the cable, not the data connection,” he replied. “I take it we've arrived.”
“They might have stripped guards from the rest of the base, but this is one area that will still be heavily protected. We don't have time for anything fancy. We're going to go right in. I'll fire off my clip at anything I can see, try to keep them pinned down, while you concentrate on snatching a weapon. Anything you can find, no matter what. All we've got on our side is surprise, and we're going to have to make all the use of it we can.”
“Wait a second. That's the plan? Dive in and hope that we distract them long enough that they don't shoot us?”
“Yeah.”
“Aren't you meant to be some sort of tactical expert?”
“I'm just doing the best I can with what I've got. Look, if we don't move now, it won't make a damn bit of difference. Alamo and Endurance will end up going the same way as Monitor, and if we don't have a ship to go back to, all of this is pointless. We go on the co
unt of five.”
“Wait,” Maxwell said. “Let me go first. It makes more sense for me to act as decoy. You're the one with the gun.”
“You sure?”
“No. Let's get on with it.”
She slammed the controls, sending his suit ahead of hers, then drained the last of her thruster fuel to throw the two of them down the tunnel. The two guards standing at the entrance jerked into life, firing their rifles at the approaching suits, but a single touch of her controls sent the two of them bobbing from side to side, taking a wild evasive course along the tunnel that dodged the incoming bullets.
Raising her pistol, she returned fire, the force of the blast sending her tumbling as the bullet slammed into the rock above the closest guards, Maxwell's thrusters recklessly squandering fuel in a desperate bid to keep them moving, keep them speeding towards their target. She caught a brief glimpse of a glowing blue column behind them, decorated with intricate symbols, as they raced past the guards in the rear, diving into the cavern beyond.
Spinning around, she fired another shot, this time catching the guard in the rear, neatly severing one of the feeds from his oxygen tank, sending him diving into cover while he hastily attempted to repair his damaged suit. His comrade moved to the far side, keeping down low, his rifle raised towards them, and for the first time she noticed that he was plugged into a data terminal, doubtless reporting their presence to his superiors.
Three more shots flew past them, and Harper looked desperately around for cover, finding a cache of crates stacked by the far wall. It took the bulk of Maxwell's thruster fuel to drag them to at least temporary safety, but two more figures moved up the corridor towards them, weapons at the ready, one of them equipped with a laser cannon that could burn through the fragile crates in a matter of seconds.
“We can't just sit here,” Maxwell said.
“Wait one,” Harper replied, looking around the room. Aside from the column and the crates, identified only as containing emergency ration packs, she saw a complicated console on the far wall, connected to the column with bulky data lines, more heavily shielded than anything she had ever seen. It took little imagination to realize why, and she instantly realized that she was meters away from her goal.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky Page 17