Battlecruiser Alamo: Tip of the Spear

by Richard Tongue

  "I'm going to be blunt, because these guys are going to dance around on this one. Are you planning to turn us into a Triplanetary Protectorate?" Montgomery asked, taking a swig of coffee. "We've heard some of your men talking about a place called Ragnarok where something like this happened."

  "Ragnarok requested Protectorate status; last I heard, it had been granted. That's a prelude to full membership in the Confederation." He looked around at four disbelieving faces. "This is your planet. Hell, if you want, we'll pull back to the spaceport until we're ready to leave, and just go. I can't imagine you'd want that."

  Howe fixed Green with a stare, then replied, "There may be some among us who would prefer just such an outcome. I think I can speak for the Chamber of Commerce; we'd rather have access to the wider galaxy."

  "If the price is simply trading one master for another..."

  "I repeat," Marshall said, holding his hand up, "Protectorate status is an option you can explore. It is not a requirement. We're here to help. Period. As far as I can see the immediate issue is dealing with the Legion; they've lost two bases, but they still have a substantial presence in the jungle."

  "Don't you think we can handle it?" Howe said, turning to look at Montgomery.

  "As things stand, I think if I were in your shoes, I'd be grateful for whatever help I could get."

  "And the strings attached, Captain?" Sanderson asked.

  Looking at the slight figure, Marshall said, "As a minimum, we'd want a trade agreement and access to your system's Helium-3 deposits. A lease on the starport in high orbit as well, I believe. This is all a matter for the diplomats."

  "Right now Alamo is in the starport, using those facilities, is that not so?"

  Sanderson was remarkably well-informed; Marshall made a mental note to instruct the troops to be careful who they talked to. "Repairing damage incurred in liberating your planet, Lieutenant."

  "Perhaps some sort of rental...," Green began.

  Montgomery slammed his hands on the table. "Bullshit. I've fought with these people, and they're helping us with our war right now, while we sit here talking.” He looked around at the others, a scowl on his face, then back at Marshall. “Captain, take whatever you need from the starport to get your ship back in one piece. Hell, there's nothing we could do to stop you anyway. Anything else beyond that, we can get the diplomats to deal with."

  Howe smiled at Montgomery's outburst; evidently this was not uncommon. "Do you recognize us as the Planetary Government, Captain?"

  There was a trap Marshall had no intention of falling into. "As the government of Yreka, Captain Howe." He stressed the rank. "I don't see any representatives from the Caribbean or Tatar communities here. And only Montgomery from the farming settlements.”

  "Those pirates?" Green said. "Don't be silly, Captain. Those coast-draggers will never co-operate." He leaned forward, continuing, "You would be much better dealing with us. The farmers will be governed from here in any case."

  "Don't be so damned sure about that, Hank," Montgomery said. Marshall realized he was liking the gruff Captain more and more by the minute. "Captain Marshall isn't going to hand us the whole of Jefferson on a platter. He'd be court-martialed for it, and how much do you think the Caribbeans would care anyway? We're going to have to patch something together, and damn it, we need his help." He waved a finger around. "I don't want Protectorate status, but realistically we're going to have to deal with the Triplanetarians for a long time. Best get off on the right foot."

  Nodding, Marshall said, "There are some things I can authorize, and some things I can't. As operational commander in the field, I'm happy to use my forces to help push out the Legion and give you a chance to organize yourselves properly. We're soldiers, not politicians." As he said it, Marshall knew that he was only about half-right. Montgomery's instincts were close enough to his; Green, Howe and Sanderson had other goals in mind, and he expected to see them in suits rather than uniforms when next they met. Most of them were just local dignitaries, and the closest thing they had come to a fire-fight before today was in an old war movie.

  "Why don't we work out the details, gentlemen," he continued, "and rough out some sort of a strategy?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Orlova could not help but think that all staff meetings should be held in bars. Certainly the drink sitting in front of her – complements of the house, free drinks to anyone with an Alamo insignia on their uniform while the fighting with the Legion was continuing – was rather more appealing than the fake coffee that was their usual fare. The three midshipmen didn't look comfortable with the idea, but Sergeant Kozu seemed to be enjoying himself. Somehow, from somewhere, her father had managed to scare up a bottle of sake, and he was on his second glass. Esposito had only sipped from her beer for the present; Orlova had opted to follow her example.

  "Our orders are very simple. Captain Marshall and the Provisional Government have come up with the idea that we need to secure the rivers, and in particular one that you are pretty familiar with, Maggie – the connection between this city and the pass leading to the spaceport."

  "Couldn't we just ship directly into Yreka?" Zabek offered. The formerly reluctant midshipman seemed to be in her element as an Ensign.

  Shaking her head, Orlova replied, "The situation's still too unstable here, and it would amount to our selection of the American-descendant colonists as the government of this planet. Having a secondary base, one with our flag flying over it, is just too important."

  Esposito nodded. "We've got a full company to play with, so I'm going to use it properly." She pulled out a map of the area, unrolling it across the table. A few wet patches began to run through, staining some of the rivers. "Two platoons are essentially garrison strength, so they're going to be used as such. I want Third Platoon – that's going to be yours, Ivan," she said, gesturing to the sole male officer in the room, who nodded curtly, "to be stationed right here at Yreka. I'll be here as well, and we'll be working with the local authorities to make sure this area is cleaned out."

  She paused to take another sip. "First Platoon's going to have the bulk of the regular espatiers, and I'm keeping that at the spaceport. Steele, that's yours, as well as Sergeant Kozu." A curt nod to the veteran sergeant left no real doubt about who would actually be in command. "I want your force out on the desert, looking for anything out there. Primarily, you're the ready reserve for any operations we execute."

  "What about Second, Lieutenant?" Zabek asked.

  "You get the fun job." She stabbed down at a point on the river with her finger. "This is about the mid-point. I want an outpost established there, garrisoned and held. It's about a day's march from a couple of Tatar villages, and I want you to liaise with them. I'm giving you a squad of regulars to stiffen the ranks a bit, and hopefully I can scare up some local militia as well. Your job will be to launch river patrols, to actually hold this line."

  Smiling, Orlova looked over at her friend, "I'm guessing you're putting me there, as well."

  "I figured that was the best place. You're the only one I've got who's actually walked through that forest."

  "We getting any help?"

  "Alamo prefabbed a few buildings for us before the repairs got kicked into high gear. How you lay them out is up to you. A shuttle will bring them in once you've got the area secured."

  Nodding, she began to run through a few ideas in her head. "I think we can handle it."

  "The last of the troops will be down in about an hour, and the platoon sergeants will have mustered them by then. You three," she gestured to the temporary Ensigns, "should go and familiarize yourselves with them, and your personnel rosters. Remember that you tell the sergeants what to do, and they see it done. That's their job." She paused for effect to ram it home. "Your NCOs are a hell of a lot more experienced than you are, so if they give you any advice, consider that you have a standing order to listen, but remember that you are in command."

  The three of them looked at each other, nerves cracking ev
en through the usually confident Steele. Zabek had a slightly different look on her face than the other two; she'd actually seen action during the Battle of the Spaceport, and she almost looked eager to get started. Nervous, but ready. The others? Who knew how they would fare under combat until the day actually dawned.

  "Any questions?"

  The three of them looked around, all of them waiting for the others to speak first. Steele broke cover, "Are we clear to engage the enemy?"

  "Unless otherwise informed, yes. Our intelligence is pretty limited; I'm afraid the jungle's making pretty good cover, and we don't have the satellite coverage we'd like. Expect surprises. And try and avoid friendly fire."

  "What sort of surprises?" Varlamov said, in all seriousness.

  Chuckling, Orlova replied, "They wouldn't be much of a surprise if we knew that, Ensign."

  "May I make a suggestion, ma'am?" Zabek said.

  "By all means."

  "Garrisoning is a start, but not the end of the process. We're going to have to go into the jungle and track them down. The Tatars could help us as guides, track us into their bases and hit them hard."

  Orlova's eyes widened, and Esposito glanced around the table. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ensign, but they know the terrain a lot better than we do. I'm hoping that we can get them to the negotiating table before it comes to that; an operation such as you propose could take months, not weeks. Outside our remit."

  "But if the opportunity presents itself?" the young ensign pressed.

  "Then we will be sure to take advantage of it. Is there anything else?" The lieutenant looked at silence around the room, then said, "Best get moving, then. Dismissed."

  The Ensigns stood up to attention as one, saluted, and left the bar, Kozu following with a waved salute to keep an eye on them. With the lower ranks gone, Orlova took a longer drink of her beer, savoring the taste. A drink that could would cost hundreds of credits on Mars; she wanted to enjoy it while she could.

  "We're going to have a fight on our hands keeping the troops out," Esposito said.

  "The sergeants will handle it. I think you'll need to be a bit generous with the leave, but if this is mostly going to be garrison work, that shouldn't be much of a problem. Except that most of them are going to want to retire here."

  "I'll be rotating the platoons, naturally. One of us is going to need to be here the whole time."

  "Mulenga's up at the spaceport, yes? I noticed that you arranged things so that none of them will actually have an independent command at any time."

  Raising her glass, Esposito took a drink, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

  Turning to look at the door, Orlova said, "You realize that it was us a year ago."

  "Seems like centuries."

  "We've fitted a lot in since that first fight at Mariner."

  Sighing, Esposito replied, "I envy them, a little. I wish I'd had someone to hold my hand the first time out." A thin smile of remembrance crossed her face, "Someone who doesn't slap me around the face."

  "Yes, sorry about that. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

  "Oh, hell, I needed it." She took another drink. "What do you think of those three?"

  "They look green as hell."

  Both of them laughed at that, "No worse than we were back then," Esposito said.

  "I was never that green," Orlova replied, draining her drink.

  "Yes, you were. You just didn't have all that crap at the Academy to un-learn." Esposito looked to the side, around at the bar, "I'm sorry for sticking you out in the jungle. I'd understand if you'd want to be with your father."

  "The Captain offered me leave while we were on-planet," she replied. "I declined. There's too much work to do. I expect to be talking to him every night, and I'll probably take the Skipper up on his offer for the ride back to Ragnarok, but right now both of us have jobs to do. I know he's alive and well, and that's enough for now. The rest can come later."

  "I can't believe you're taking it so well. If it happened to me, I'd be a wreck."

  Smiling, Orlova made her way over to the bar, "I'm just a good actress, Gabi. Another?"

  "One more, then we'd better get on duty ourselves." She drained the rest of her first glass. "You sure you can handle it out there?"

  "I'd like to borrow at least some of First Platoon to get the buildings up if they can be spared. Buildings up, some sort of perimeter fence, that should be enough. We can use one of the shuttles to burn a killing ground around the perimeter."

  Shaking her head, Esposito replied, "You've really got to grips with this ground-forces stuff, haven't you."

  "Experience is a hard teacher. I've been reading some of the manuals; Security Officer isn't that demanding a job with hackers like mine around."

  "Thought about transferring?"

  She shook her head, "Alamo only needs one Espatier officer, Gabi." Pausing, she continued, "You still out in two years? Last time we talked you were hot to get back to university."

  Sighing, she said, "I'm honestly not sure. I might decide closer to the time. I thought about taking a couple of years to get my Masters then coming back in, if I could arrange it." Looking down at her insignia, she said, "I'm getting comfortable in the uniform, though. What about you? Any regrets?"

  "Not a one. I'm enjoying it too much."

  "I don't think every ship's like Alamo."

  "Maybe. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Still a long way left in this tour of duty before I have to worry about that." She paused. "Zabek worries me a little."

  "Too eager."

  "Too damn eager."

  "Keep an eye on her. If it looks like she's going to be a problem, I'll rotate her out to the spaceport. She can't get into too much trouble there, but she is the most experienced of the three at ground engagements."

  "Caine told me that she was the one that was struggling. I'm not seeing it."

  "Let's see if we can focus her a bit. Maybe she's found her calling."

  "If combat's her calling, that's a sad thing." Orlova paused. "She's got the right idea, though. I'll admit that much."

  "If I had a couple of companies to play with, I'd be willing to go along with it. What we have is a slightly understrength platoon. I'm not sending the Alamo crew out into the jungle unless there's absolutely no other option on the table. We don't even have proper orbital reconnaissance any more. Quinn could barely spare the parts for a single bird up in Jeffersonosynchronous orbit. I had to argue to get that one."

  "We could use the shuttles, take low flybys."

  "They aren't really built for it, but it isn't a bad idea." She grinned. "You just want an excuse to get some more flight time."

  "Guilty as charged."

  "You realize if I posted you here, you'd be spending all your time liaising with the local political types. Don't think that I'm giving you the hard option."

  "Yeah, I think I might pass on that one. Spending a month out in the jungle playing with the insects should be child's play in comparison. Might if I recruit some of the Tatars?"

  "If they'll bite. I figure you might need to borrow your dad for that, though."

  "He's the only Tatar speaker we've got."

  "I'll see if I can clear it with the Captain. That's another little mission for you; find their leader, their headman, and get him down here as fast as possible. Captain wants to get them on-board as fast as possible, and they were eager enough to help you take the spaceport."

  Taking a drink, Orlova shook her head, "I thought I wasn't going to be dealing with the political types?"

  "Hell, got to spread the joy a little." Esposito took another drink, and smiled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Caine sat in the command chair, looking at the screen as it moved from one helmet camera to another, each showing a slightly different view of the rocky devastation on Jefferson's moon. Something traumatic had happened here, probably fairly recently in cosmological time; the surface was gouged and pitted, huge craters punctuated by fissu
res, and it was down one such fissure that the geological survey team was descending. Under other circumstances, she would have jumped at the chance to lead the team herself, anything to break up the monotony a little, but this time she had not even been tempted.

  Quinn was sitting next to her in the watch officer's seat, Kibaki displaced to the tactical station at the rear; at least for once he had somewhere to sit, rather than hanging around on the bridge. The lack of gravity hadn't been a problem for Caine – she'd spent long enough in varigrav that she was pretty immune to such things by now, but half the crew were guzzling down Garn pills by the handful to keep themselves working. The engineer was leaning on the edge of his seat, excitement dancing across his face; it had taken a direct order to stop him from going.

  "Ryder here," the leader of the team called back to Alamo. The young sub-lieutenant had been the first of the three bored watch officers to step forward when Caine asked for volunteers.

  "Alamo here, go ahead," replied Ortega, the duty communications technician.

  "We're coming across a wide gap in the tunnel, Alamo. Detectors are beginning to dance off the chart; I think the titanium deposits here are going to be bigger than we thought."

  Breaking in, Quinn replied, "Mark sites for easy surface access. We can leave the auto-miners here after we've finished, get a steady supply of hull material processed."

  "Any sign of problems?" Caine asked.

  With a slightly baffled tone, Ryder replied, "Just bare rock, Lieutenant. Nothing to worry about. All suit systems are green across the team."

  "Keep an eye on it. You're a long way down if something goes wrong."

  "Carpenter here, Ryder," a slightly tinny voice spoke, cutting into the main channel. "I think I've found what we're looking for, a real smooth surface to anchor."

  "Right, coming." The helmet camera swung from side to side as Ryder carefully lowered herself further into the fissure. Caine turned as the elevator door slid open, and a barely-dressed Harper stumbled out, obviously having only just woken up. Quinn looked on with amusement; Caine shook her head.