Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword

by Richard Tongue

   “Alamo could catch it if we moved quickly,” Foster said. “I can set up for an interception course in about four hours.”

   “Keep it logged, Sub-Lieutenant, but for the present I want us to remain on our original course.”

   She watched as the ship slowly moved along the trajectory track, homing in on its distant target, her crew working all around her to bring the ship to the height of readiness for the expected battle. If it was just a matter of facing off the sailship, they could defeat it easily, but those laser cannons were a different story. Even a glancing blow would wipe out their heat radiator, and likely ruin the sensor pickups on that side of the ship.

   “They've detached,” Spinelli said, and the two points began to diverge, the sailship curving away, this time operating without the benefit of a laser beam, dependent only on the power of the sun to speed it on its way. The course quickly settled into a trajectory taking it towards one of the larger moons, and at a nod from Orlova, Yorax began to tap instructions into the databank.

   “It's a known Coalition base,” he said. “One of their larger installations, and incidentally the site of a laser cannon. Estimated population in the low thousands, established not long before the Cataclysm. They've held prisoners there before.” Pausing, he added, “I have some intelligence about the layout of that base. A few years ago, we managed to negotiate a prisoner exchange, back when we used to keep our prisoners alive.”

   “You kill your captives?” Nelyubov asked. “That's barbaric.”

   “I have been informed that the Council considers keeping them alive both a drain on resources and a security risk. My own personal view is that we'd be better off trading them back to the Coalition, but I don't have the influence to make that happen. Yet.” Looking at the strategic view, he added, “We've got a pair of gunboats that can intercept as well, half an hour after Alamo. If I contact them, we might be able to organize a coordinated strike.”

   “One which would kill any prisoners they have on board,” Orlova replied. “Besides, your ships wouldn't stand a chance against that laser cannon, and you know it.”

   “A soldier doesn't like to sit out a battle while someone else fights it for him, ma'am.”

   “Those are our people on board, Director. I think you can consider us sufficiently involved.”

   “Ma'am,” Weitzman said. “There's a comm laser locking onto us, from the Twenty-Two. I'm getting a message from Petty Officer Lombardo.”

   Frowning, Orlova replied, “Put it on.”

   “Audio only, ma'am,” the communications technician replied.

   “Lombardo to Alamo. Do you read me?”

   “I read you. What's your situation?”

   “There are eight of us remaining on board, none of the enemy. They stripped the ship down pretty efficiently before putting us on our way, but they left the communications system intact. Captain, they've taken Salazar and Harper. You've got to get them back.”

   Breaking in, Nelyubov said, “Petty Officer, what is your favorite color?”

   “What? Blue, sir. Why?”

   Looking across at Orlova, he said, “Now we know it isn't a recording.”

   “This is strange,” Yorax added. “Not their usual tactic at all. As a rule, they'd take anyone they could get, no matter what the conditions. They've held some of their captives for years. A few of them have even gone native.”

   With a sigh, Orlova asked, “How long before we have to make a decision about intercept, Sub-Lieutenant?”

   Foster turned, and said, “Ma'am, Lombardo's right. We've got to keep after the sailship. At this speed, we'll catch them just before entering laser range. If we break off now, they'll be irretrievable.”

   “I asked you a question, Sub-Lieutenant.”

   Turning back to her panel, she replied, “Seventeen minutes, with a two hundred and ninety minute time to contact, six hundred and twelve before we're back at orbit over Skybase.”

   “And if we don't?”

   “Ma'am, we'll think of something,” Lombardo said.

   “What's your supply situation, Petty Officer?” Nelyubov asked.

   “Sir, all of us will gladly go hungry for a while.”

   Nodding, Yorax said, “They'll have taken everything that isn't nailed down. I'm only surprised they left the communications system intact.”

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “You shouldn't be. They probably made sure that it could be repaired before they left. If it was just a question of an abandoned freighter heading out into the void, I'd have let it go, stayed on the sailship, but now I've got no choice, and those bastards know that. Sub-Lieutenant, change your course, and proceed to the Twenty-Two at best speed.”

   “But, ma'am...”

   “That's an order, Sub-Lieutenant,” Orlova barked. “Get a probe into the air, Cantrell, to follow that sailship all the way in. And while you are at it, coordinate with the Science department to set up a network so that we can get rid of any other sensor blind spots. I want to be able to get a complete picture of everything in the system.”

   “Understood, ma'am,” Foster said. “Executing course change.”

   “Good. I want a shuttle in the air to Twenty-Two at the earliest opportunity. Let's get this over with as fast as we can.”

   “My government would formally request that you make an attempt to salvage the ship,” Yorax said. “We've got few enough transports of its type in any case.”

   “Have Petty Officer Lombardo provide a report on the feasibility of such an operation, Weitzman, but stress that I want a realistic estimate.” Turning to Yorax, Orlova replied, “Under ideal circumstances I might consider it, but Alamo cannot afford to nursemaid that craft for long repairs, and I have no intention of leaving any of my personnel stranded out there with no way to get home, not with hostile forces in the area.”

   “Completely understood,” he replied. “I know she's probably a lost cause, but there's no harm in making an attempt.” Frowning as he looked at the display, he said, “It would take it months to get back to our space otherwise, and with a velocity that will make an intercept difficult with the ships we have on hand. Frankly, I'm tempted to say impossible, though I suppose the Astrogator's Guild will waste a few weeks trying to conjure up some sort of a miracle.”

   “What happens now?” Nelyubov said.

   “Well, our need for those supplies is more pressing than ever,” Yorax said. “Which means sending another transport. I think the Nineteen is next in line, and they were already speeding her pre-flight preparations when we left. My guess is that she'll be launching in a few hours.” Shaking his head, he added, “I must confess, I don't have that much confidence in our security precautions. There's nothing to stop the Coalition snatching the next ship, and we can't afford those sort of losses. I'm afraid they might have managed to find a weak spot in our armor.”

   “You have that few ships available?” Cantrell asked.

   “We're covering a lot of ground, Lieutenant. Most of our attention has been focused on our ice mines, and keeping those running has been of paramount importance. The shipments from Arcadia have already been delayed on more than one occasion, and I'm afraid the Council doesn't give it the priority it should.”

   “So they've waited long enough for the situation to grow desperate,” Orlova said. “What if Alamo was to ride shotgun? It would mean waiting until we got back...”

   “I doubt the Council would agree to the delay. Not that the farms couldn't wait another day, but this is becoming a political issue, and they won't want to lose face. They certainly wouldn't want to admit that they can't handle this situation by themselves.” Shaking his head, he said, “I might manage a single gunboat as an escort. Naxos can handle it.”

   Grimacing, Cantrell said, “What about another option. If we can't escort the ship ourselves, we could at least place a team on board. Ensign Cooper, a squad, and me.”

>    “You?” Orlova asked.

   With a shrug, Cantrell replied, “That way an experienced tactical officer is on board should it come to it, and Cooper is more than capable of stopping any boarding action I can think of. If we take a shuttle, we can be back at Skybase in less than an hour.” Turning to Yorax, she said, “You can say that we're observing your defense preparations, if you want, or that we requested a tour of the ground facilities.”

   His face darkening, Yorax said, “Can I have a secure communications link, please?”

   “Certainly,” Orlova replied. “Weitzman, set him up in my office.”

   “Yes, ma'am,” the technician said, rising to his feet. “If you'll come with me, sir?”

   As the two of them left the room, Orlova stepped over to Cantrell, and asked, “What have you got in mind?”

   “If there was one traitor, then there might be others. Certainly I think we need to take a closer look at that planet, and this seems like the best way of doing it. With Cooper and his gang along for the ride, I'm pretty sure we can protect the shipment.”

   “I'm not sure that such overt action is a good idea,” Nelyubov said. “Certainly I don't think that we need to be doing their counter-intelligence for them, Lieutenant.”

   “Who said I'd tell them what I found?” she replied. “We need to find out what the other side of the story is, Captain, and the last time Cooper and I had a chance to speak to one of them, it was that same Naxos who made sure we didn't. I'll go by myself if you don't want to risk a full squad.”

   “What do you think, Frank?”

   “Well, with Alamo on station, we can position ourselves for a much better intercept, and I doubt they'd get far with a boarding action if an Espatier squad was on-board. I suspect the deterrent alone will put them off. I don't like it much, but I've got to admit that she might have a point.”

   After a moment, Yorax stepped out of the office, and said, “The Council are willing to approve this, if it is an official request. As observers, nothing more. Speaking for myself, I'd be very grateful for any help you could provide. I've had ample evidence of our limitations lately.”

   “Well, ma'am?” Cantrell asked.

   “Go,” Orlova said. “Before I change my mind. Move quickly, and keep in touch.”

   With a snap salute, Cantrell raced from the bridge, Yorax just behind her. Orlova watched the doors close, musing that a year ago, she'd have probably been the one to make that suggestion. A part of her, larger than she would care to admit, was jealous.

   “What do we do next, Captain?” Nelyubov asked.

   “I want the senior staff at a meeting in twelve hours, as soon as we've had a chance to debrief our crewmen from the Twenty-Two. I'm getting a little tired of having to react to events. It's time for us to take some action.”

   “What have you got in mind?”

   Shaking her head, she said, “I don't know. All I know is that we can't go on as we are. See to the deployment of the probe network, and have Powell go over everything. Maybe we can conjure up a plan from that. Gather all the intelligence you can.” Looking around, she added, “You have the bridge. I'll be in my office.”

   “Aye, ma'am.”

   She stepped off the bridge, back into her office, and looked at the empty chair. In the past, command had always been someone else's job, the decisions taken by another. Now she was the one sitting in the hot seat, with the fate of a system, not to mention her ship and crew, resting on her shoulders.

   “What the hell would you do, Danny?” she quietly asked, still looking at the chair. “How do I find a way out of this one?”

  Chapter 9

   Cooper climbed up the ladder to the Skybase docking area, his squad following close behind him. Instead of the collection of dignitaries that had greeted them last time, only a frowning Naxos was waiting for them, a clipboard in his hand, periodically glancing up at the clock. A couple of technicians loitered behind him, dismantling a piece of incomprehensible equipment, occasionally throwing furtive glances their way.

   “At last,” he said, as the last trooper reached the top. “I've been waiting...”

   “The freighter isn't scheduled to leave for another two hours,” Cooper interrupted.

   Shaking his head, he replied, “My time is valuable, even if yours isn't.” As Cantrell closed the hatch, waving at the pilot to head back to Alamo, he continued, “I want to make something perfectly clear. I don't want you along on this mission. As far as I'm concerned, you are an unwanted distraction. We're perfectly capable of defending our own convoys.”

   Corporal Hunt sighed, and said, “In that case, why did we just spend hours chasing after one of your freighters?”

   “Let's just say that I think we could be a lot more efficient than we are with different leadership. Chasing after some sort of panacea isn't going to win the war.” Folding his arms, he continued, “How long is your marvelous starship going to remain here, anyway? Are you going to stay forever? This war started centuries before you arrived, and it's going to continue long after you leave, and nothing you do is going to change that.”

   Stepping forward, mustering all the ferocity that a dozen training Sergeants had thrown at him, Cooper replied, “What you want doesn't mean a damn to me, and nor does what passes for your opinion. We've got a job to do, and you can either help or get out of the way. I don't care which. Now, where do we board the freighter?”

   “You don't,” he replied, shrinking back a little. “Not yet. The crew is still making final arrangements. There's a waiting area just down the corridor. Someone will come and get you as soon as the ship is ready to depart.”

   Shaking his head, he said, “Not good enough. Corporal Hunt?”

   “Sir.”

   “You and Private Lopez will accompany this...officer...to the freighter, and begin an inspection of all critical systems for potential sabotage. If you spot anything, report directly to me, and take any action necessary to protect the mission. Is that understood?”

   “Aye, sir,” Hunt replied, moving over to the Skybase trooper.

   “I can't authorize that,” Naxos spluttered.

   With a grin, Cooper said, “I don't recall asking you to. Now, which way to this waiting area?”

   Naxos gestured down the corridor, then stormed away, the two Espatiers following in his wake. Cooper shook his head as he watched him depart, Cantrell moving over to him, datapad in hand.

   “Was that a good idea?” she asked.

   “I don't think diplomacy was ever going to be a realistic option, do you? At least this way we both have some idea where we stand. He doesn't have to like me, as long as he's scared of me.”

   “He might have a point, though,” she said. “After all, we're moving out in three days.” Raising a hand, she added, “I know, I know, we won't leave the system without Salazar and Harper, but once we've got them back, what happens next? We can't bring them into the Confederation, and we can't even jump back to Thule for help. Our mission orders are quite clear on that.”

   “Then one way or another, we're just going to have to make sure that we've cleaned up this mess before we leave, or at least got it into a position where they can finish the job for themselves. I have a hard time thinking that any of the locals want to die in a senseless war.”

   “You might be surprised about that,” Cantrell replied with a sigh. “Sometimes people are more afraid of change than anything else. They've lived with this for a very long time. Long enough that it's all become second nature to them.” Shaking her head, she added, “We'll see, I guess.”

   The two technicians glanced at each other, and one of them walked over to Cooper, saying, “Were you serious about what you said?”

   “Yes,” he replied. “Why?”

   Looking around, he said, “A mutual friend suggested that you might like to see some parts of the city that the Council wouldn't want you to see. That it
might explain what was happening over here.” His eyes still darting towards the corridor, he added, “I can give you a quick tour, if you like. There are people who would like to meet you.”

   Cantrell shook her head, and said, “How do we know that this isn't a trick?”

   “You don't,” the technician said. “Though I could be spaced simply for talking to you like this. I'm taking a risk just being here, but I think it might be worth it.”

   “We've got time before the transport arrives,” Cooper said. “How long will this take?”

   “An hour. I can have you back to the waiting room before anyone knows you have gone. I don't think Naxos will come and get you until he must.”

   Shaking her head, Cantrell said, “Fine. Let's go.”

   The technician's eyes widened, and he said, “I can't take you both. You'd attract too much attention. These are places where a woman simply cannot go.”

   Her face reddening, she said, “Let me…”

   “He's right,” Cooper said. “And you know it. You coming along would be like wearing a fluorescent jacket during a covert infiltration. I'd have a chance at blending into the crowd.”

   “Fine,” she said. “Go have fun. I'll stall Naxos if he does show up. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble.”

   “I'm not sure I can promise that,” he said. Turning to the technician, he said, “Lead on.”

   “First, put these on,” he said, pulling a gray overall out of his work bag. Cooper pulled off his jacket, tossing it to Lance-Corporal Price, making sure to keep his shoulder holster in position as he slid on the dingy uniform. Looking over him, the technician shook his head, then picked up his tools and headed off down the corridor, Cooper following.

   After only two turns, it became apparent that they'd seen a Potemkin village on their first visit to Skybase. The shining lights and well-painted corridors faded to a depressing series of browns and grays, and the people they passed slumped as they walked by, all on their own little errands. Flashes of graffiti littered the walls, some of them in English, mostly protesting about food rations.