“I understand,” Orlova said. “Scott, take the Director down to the hangar deck. I want Orbital Two scrambled for launch to take him to his flagship.”
“Aye, ma'am,” her aide said, rising to her feet.
Looking at Yorax, Vyram said, “I'd better be doing the same. If we end up in a shooting war, I want to be on the bridge of my ship.” As Yorax stepped into the elevator, he replied, “Somehow, I think that we're likely to be on the same side when the shooting starts. If the Council decides to attack your ship, we will enter the fight in support.”
Nodding, Poltis said, “I concur. This is senseless, pointless, but we know which side to support. We stand with the Confederation, Captain. For whatever it is worth.”
Shaking her head, Orlova said, “The whole point of this conference was to end your differences, not escalate them.”
“That's their choice, Captain, and the Council seem hell-bent on committing suicide. I assure you that we will not be joining them.”
“Let's hope that it doesn't come to that.”
“No soldier wants a war, Captain,” Vyram said. “I'd better be on my way. The elevator will take me to the hangar deck, yes?”
“Sub-Lieutenant Scott will assist you when you get down there.”
“Thank you.”
As the delegations filed out of the room, Poltis staring out of the window, lost in thought, Orlova pulled out her datapad, looking at the tactical situation. The gunboats and the sailships were moving into attack formations, spikes in communications traffic suggesting that they were going to battle stations. Not a surprise.
“Nelyubov to Orlova,” her communicator said.
“Go ahead, Frank.”
“I don't have any good news, I'm afraid. I can't regain contact with Ensign Cooper, Lieutenant Cantrell, or anyone on the landing team. They're going to have company in around nine minutes.” He paused, then added, “I've also lost contact with Lieutenant Harper and Sub-Lieutenant Salazar. Neither is responding to hails, and the base they were on is refusing to accept our signals.”
“What was that?” Poltis asked.
Turning to him, Orlova said, “It seems that your people have decided that it is time to take matters into their own hands.”
“I swear to you, Captain, that I have not given any orders for your people to be detained. I'm not a fool, I know what your ship could do.” Shaking his head, he said, “Are you sure this is not some sort of trick, the Council jamming your signals?”
“I'm afraid not,” Orlova replied.
He paused, then said, “Let me talk to them. Maybe I can at least find out what is going on.” He looked down at the deck, and added, “We knew that this was our last hope. If someone has decided to throw that away, I will know why. Please believe me, Captain, this is not an official action of our government.”
Frowning, she said, “I won't take any action yet, Coordinator. I think we've got our hands full at the moment in any case. Nevertheless, I expect to immediately learn of anything you discover, and if I find that harm has come to my crewmen...”
“I'll get on it right away, Captain.” He took a seat at the table and pulled out his communicator, resting on the surface of the desk, while she glanced at her datapad again. Nothing was changed, the situation the same as the last time she looked. Alamo couldn't get to Arcadia soon enough to do anything, even if she wanted to allow the stalemate to break.
Powell stepped over to her, and said, “Strange, isn't it. Such a beautiful system hosting such ugliness.” Shaking his head, he replied, “I have a feeling that the local population is set to experience a sharp decline.”
“I don't accept that. Not yet.”
“You can't win them all, Captain, and you can't impose a lasting peace on these people.” Turning to look at Poltis, frantically jabbering into his communicator, he said, “They're still fighting the war, the one their ancestors started. They might claim that it is a matter of survival, but if that were the case, they would have found a way to co-operate generations ago. I suspect they no longer truly know why they fight, only that they must.”
“Civilization in this system...”
“Is dead, Captain.” He pulled out his datapad, and said, “There is no realistic alternative aside from abandoning the bulk of their space-based infrastructure and returning to the surface. Even then, I expect casualties, but if they can phase their recolonization in over a long enough period, they can keep them to a minimum.” With a sigh, he continued, “Technological civilization died in this system centuries ago. All that remains is the twitching corpse.”
Tapping a readout, he said, “We've accessed both of their databases now, going over their resource base, their knowledge. No new discoveries for centuries, just a few refinements of techniques. No new cultural developments, no works of art, of literature, other than the imitative. No great composers, mathematicians, philosophers.”
“That isn't really fair,” Orlova replied. “These people have been hanging on by their finger-tips for all those years. They haven't had the time to develop along the lines you suggest. All of their energies have simply been based on survival.”
“True, but it did not need to be so.” Looking at the sky again, he said, “From what little I can tell, simple survival after the Cataclysm was a great battle, one they won, but they squandered their victory. They've had time, Captain. Centuries of time to consolidate, to build. Either to return to their homeworld or construct a new civilization out among the stars. Did we have so much more on Mars, than they did on their Skybase? Earth was little enough help to us in our earliest years.” Shaking his head, he said, “The irony is that they are no different to the people on the surface, just a pair of tribes picking over the bones of the past to survive.”
“I can't give up on them, Professor. I don't know how.”
Nodding, he replied, “You might have to face up to the possibility that they have given up on themselves, and when someone chooses to do that, there is no force in the universe that can save them.”
“Nelyubov to Orlova,” her communicator chimed. “That transport is about to land, ma'am. We've got some good resolution images from our orbiting probe. No sign of life from the station at all, and still no communications traffic that we can detect.” He paused, and said, “We're picking up signs of reinforcements on the way here. Four gunboats, five sailships, all timed to arrive around the time of the Administrator's deadline. I think they're serious about making their last stand here.”
With a sigh, she replied, “Thanks, Frank. I'll be down with you on the bridge in a minute. Make preparations for battle stations.” She closed the channel, looked at Powell, and added, “I'm not giving up. Not until the very last second.”
Chapter 18
The buggy roared up to the airlock as the transport flew overhead, its landing jets playing around the ground as it slowed for a landing. Cooper leapt out of the cabin, racing towards the open hatch, Cantrell and Reana right behind him. The girl stopped at the door, shaking her head, as the roar of the transport's engines resounded around.
“No. No,” she said.
“Come on,” Cantrell said. “We've got to get inside.”
Waving her spear, the girl said, “If this a trap...”
“Sir?” Hunt said, standing at the threshold. “I've stood the men to. Lance-Corporal Price and Private Yaskova are at the medical bay, and everyone else is standing by at the docking airlock.” He looked at the transport as it settled down on the landing pad. “As soon as we get inside, I've fixed all the outside hatches to seal. They won't be able to get in without a lot of trouble.”
Finally, Reana stepped tentatively inside, and the hatch slammed shut behind her, the locks snapping into place. She looked accusingly up at Cooper, then followed him down the corridor, along the outer ring of the dome, towards the docking hatch. The dome was exactly as Hunt had described, an old f
irst-stage colonization module, the material fading, the outer ports pitted and scarred from long use. Strips of light ran down the ceiling, white and antiseptic, and there was a bitter tang to the air, sharp contrast to the freshness of the world outside.
Reana screamed as she saw Private Danus, who looked at Cooper in surprise as he walked down the corridor towards them. The girl shook her head, shrinking back to the wall, brandishing her spear.
“Don't worry, little one,” Danus said. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
“A demon!” she yelled.
“That isn't a demon, he's a private in the Triplanetary Espatier Corps,” Cantrell said. “A lot more fearsome than any demon, but he's here to protect you.”
“Really?” she asked.
Nodding, Danus said, “That's right. If anyone wants to get you, they'll have to get through me first. As well as the rest of the squad.” Turning to Cooper, he said, “They've engaged the docking clamps, sir, but they haven't made any attempt to break in yet.”
“Can they get through that way?”
“Not without explosives, sir. I broke the circuit. I guess we'll find out just how reluctant they are to go outside.”
“And Naxos?”
Gesturing ahead to a figure crouched on the floor, the Neander replied, “I thought he might be useful to have around, sir, so I brought him along. I figure someone on that ship may want him more than we do, though that isn't saying much.”
“I don't know anything!” Naxos screamed, rocking back and forth. “I don't know anything!”
“He keeps shouting that,” Rhodes said. “Over and over again, since we brought him back inside.”
“Raval to Ensign Cooper,” an overhead speaker said. “There is a microphone pickup on the door. Please come over to it, and we can talk like civilized people.”
Trying to control his rage, he stepped over to the door, Cantrell moving by his side, and said, “Are you responsible for the massacre in the settlement? The murder of dozens of innocent people?”
“Please understand, Ensign. You've seen the genetic refuse that makes up much of our population. We're desperate, and we're dying, and if the only way we can survive is with an infusion of fresh blood, so be it. The children are treated no differently from any other. Once we have extracted the material we need, the females are usually returned to the planet, though I confess that our surgical techniques are primitive enough that not all of them survive the procedure.”
“What about their parents?” he said. “What about the dead?”
“Sometimes the savages yield to our requirements without a fight. Occasionally they opt for suicide instead, and we are forced to take what we need. Casualties are inevitable, but the war we are raging is for the survival of our race itself.” He sighed, and said, “The deaths are regrettable, but necessary.”
“Regrettable!” Cantrell yelled. “You killed old women, children, gunning them down where they stood, then tried to burn the evidence! You didn't even bury them!”
“I would not expect you to understand.”
“Oh, Raval,” Cooper said, “I understand. All too well. Rather than approaching the inhabitants of the planet in peace, you choose to take what you want, and destroy what you don't. That sort of thinking is what led to the destruction of your planet in the first place.” He paused, took a deep breath, and said, “As soon as we establish contact with Alamo, I assure you that everyone in the system will know what you have done.”
“That isn't going to happen, Ensign,” the doctor said, continuing to ignore Cantrell. “Administrator Kelgar has issued an ultimatum, requiring that you turn yourselves over to us for trial. Otherwise, he will order an attack on Alamo. Further, I am in communication with my colleagues in the medical unit on the base, who currently hold fifteen of the local inhabitants hostage. I am willing to talk terms.”
“If you think that I am going to accept any terms aside from unconditional surrender from someone who has committed crimes against humanity, you are very much mistaken.”
“I can have the women we have taken replaced very easily, Ensign. To us, they are expendable, but I do not believe that you would want to have their blood on your hands.” He paused, then said, “We had no choice, Ensign. It was that, or watch our people die. Believe me, if there was any alternative, I would take it, but we do not have the medical technology to solve this problem any other way.”
Looking at Cantrell, he said, “What sort of terms did you have in mind?”
“Cooper, I order…,” Cantrell began, but he gave a hacking motion with his hand, and though her face reddened, she remained silent.
“I will free the prisoners we have taken, and you will return to Alamo on this ship. Everything will be explained as a communications breakdown, and I will, on behalf of our government, issue an apology for the misunderstanding. In exchange, all data will be deleted regarding any incidents you may have observed, and the peace conference that your Captain Orlova has labored over will continue. The alternative is at best a stalemate, and at worst your defeat and death. Remember, Ensign, it is you who have seized our base, and committed an act of war.”
He paused, then said, “I need time to think about it.”
“I give you five minutes. No more. Raval out.”
“Gabe,” Cantrell said, “Tell me that you were just stalling for time.”
“I am not letting him win. Corporal, how many ways into the medical unit?”
“Just two, sir. Both of them secured blast doors, locked tight.” He paused, then said, “They must have hidden their captives somewhere, sir, and we missed it on our sweep. When this is over, if you want my...”
“You didn't know what you were looking for, Corporal. It wasn't your fault. Could we rush them, force the doors?”
“We don't have any explosives with us, sir. Just normal ship-side deployment. Inventory suggests that there is no usable equipment on the base, either.” Shaking his head, he said, “Given a little time, we could come up with something, but we're not going to get the time.”
Looking down at the writhing Naxos, Cooper said, “I hope you've been listening to all of this. I might not be able to get my hands on Raval, but you're looking like a pretty tempting target.”
“I didn't know anything! Just that I was ordered to prevent you getting out onto the surface. Yorax briefed me himself, told me that I should come on strong, that I needed to make it clear to you where the boundaries were.” Yelling at the ceiling, he said, “The bastard sent me here to die!”
“You aren't dead yet,” Cooper said.
“Do you believe him, sir?” Hunt asked.
“I doubt he'd have allowed himself to be captured if he knew the truth.”
Reana poked the prone guard lightly with his spear, and said, “Bad man.”
Looking up at her, tears in his eyes, he said, “I didn't know! I'm no monster! I'm just trying to do my job, trying to defend my people. You've got to believe me!”
Kneeling down by the weeping guard, Cooper said, “Maybe. Or maybe you'll say anything in a desperate attempt to save your own skin.” He paused, then said, “Under normal circumstances I wouldn't do this, but I'm going to give you a chance to save yourself.” Turning to Rhodes, he said, “Free him.”
“Sir?”
“That's an order.”
Frowning, Rhodes knelt down, removing the restraints. Slowly, cautiously, Naxos rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists to bring back the circulation, looking around nervously at the menacing troopers.
“You're going to escape, Naxos. With bullets slamming into the walls all around you. Head to medical, and convince them to let you in. If you really want to save your people, we need to take those hostages back. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, and replied, “What if they won't let me in?”
“Oh, we'll make it as convincing as we can, I assure
you. As for the rest, we'd better hope that your powers of persuasion are a damn sight better with your friends than they were with us.” Looking down at his watch, he said, “What are you waiting for?”
With a quick look, Naxos sprinted down the corridor towards the medical unit, Rhodes and Danus firing after him, bullets smashing into the wall by his side, one of them knocking out a light strip, sending a shower of sparks raining down. The squad followed him, moving quickly, chasing after him as close as they dared, firing a series of wild shots.
Turning a corner, they slowed, giving the rogue guard just enough of a head-start for his actions to look convincing. He pounded on the door, screaming in the native language, the tone suggesting a begging, grovelling plea for life. After a few seconds, the hatch slid open, and a hand reached out to bring him in.
Cooper was first, his shot neatly drilling through the errant limb, racing forward to the hatch before they could close it. Behind him, Danus charged, Rhodes right beside him, pistols and knives in hand as they dashed into medical. Inside, a dozen technicians nursed pistols, standing over a group of women wearing brown robes, all tied to the wall with short lengths of plastic cable. As the Espatiers entered, the technicians swung down behind their captives, using them as human shields.
“Hand-to-hand!” he yelled, diving into the fray, slashing at the nearest technician, the rage he had felt since seeing the burning village taking over as he cut his way though. Behind him, his squad followed, pushing past the dazed Naxos, still standing in the door, the wounded technician hanging onto him.
Two technicians ganged up on him, one with a pistol, the other with a long, steel pipe. Before the first could pull the trigger, Cooper tossed his blade at him, catching him in the wrist and sending the gun clattering to the floor. The second swung low, aiming for his chest, but the veteran trooper ducked underneath the blow, striking out with his elbow to catch him in the side of the head, sending the two of them tumbling down in a pile.
He looked up to see the first one scrambling for his pistol, leveling it at Cooper as he struggled to free himself from the unconscious figure lying on top of him. Just as he was pulling the trigger, a red stain appeared on his front, the tip of a spear ripping through his jacket, Reana avenging the murder of her people.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword Page 17