Battlecruiser Alamo: Tip of the Spear

by Richard Tongue

  Harper violently shook her head, the grin remaining firmly fixed in place. "Of course it isn't that easy, but remember how we found the reflector in the first place? That explosion up on Jefferson's moon."

  "So, what's the answer?"

  "Blow up another one."

  Three sets of eyes turned to look at the hacker; she looked around at them, seeming to retreat slightly under their burning gaze. "After I've made some modifications to the transmitting programs, naturally. I'll put a virus into that communications pulse – it doesn't have to do anything complicated, just transmit a short signal back up to Alamo."

  "A millisecond pulse would be enough to locate them," Quinn replied, nodding. "Lieutenant, this actually could work."

  Caine turned to Harper, "Spaceman, you are aware, I am certain, that there are likely to be booby-traps on those bombs intended to stop just such meddling. And that you can't do this remotely; you'll have to be sitting by the bomb as you reprogram it. No network interface."

  "Sure. Why would they build one in, it's just a big dumb bomb, after all."

  "Just to be sure that you know the risks you are running."

  Harper smiled, "I'll be riding on this ship when it goes into battle, Lieutenant. As far as I can see it, risk is our business. That's what makes it so much fun."

  Dixon burst out laughing. "As long as you're having a good time, spaceman, I guess all of this is worthwhile."

  After a brief second, Caine said, "Permission granted, Spaceman. Take one of the shuttles, and anyone else you need with you."

  "I'd probably better just take a pilot. No point risking anyone else, they'd only get in the way anyway. I'll let you know when I'm ready to transmit."

  "Good." Harper pushed back on the desk, diving back onto the bridge before anyone could dismiss her. Caine rested back, looking around the room at Dixon and Quinn. Somehow there was a feeling at the back of her mind that this might actually work, that there was a chance they could pull it off. She tapped a button.

  "Ortega, get me Orlova. Top priority and scramble."

  "On it, ma'am." There was a brief delay before the communications technician replied, "I've got her, ma'am."

  "Orlova here, go ahead."

  "New orders for you, Sub-Lieutenant."

  "Twice in one day?"

  "We've received a ransom demand for the return of the Captain." She looked around the room again, and took a deep breath, "I'm rejecting the offer. We hope to know where he is being held very shortly. I need you to put together a strike force of some sort to get him back. Pull in anything you can, any espatiers, any planetary forces. We're going for broke with this one." She smiled, "I'd rather like him back on the bridge before the battle."

  There was a pause from the planet, "Will do, Deadeye. I don't know how, but will do. Orlova out."

  Caine closed the channel, and looked up at the others, "Dismissed." Quinn left the room first, but Dixon loitered for a moment.

  "I seem to keep on shooting my mouth off, Lieutenant."

  "Danny would probably say that it's what a good Executive Officer is meant to do." She paused, "This is what he'd want to do, I know him well enough for that. But command isn't about what someone else might do under the same circumstances, it's about what you think you should do. I know that much."

  "I shouldn't have said it."

  "No, you shouldn't." Caine shook her head, "You were right about one thing, though. We've spent a lot of blood here, and I'm damn well going to make sure that the Legion, the Cabal, whatever force had this planet is no longer in control of it when we leave. Six boys gave their lives to rescue our people, and they died to free their planet. I'm not going to go back on my end of the bargain." Her eyes were looking at Dixon, but they seemed to be focused farther away. Perhaps this was how to put the ghosts to rest. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

  Wordlessly, the pilot turned and left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Putting the headset back down on the rough table, Orlova looked around her father's bar, then down at the hastily-drawn operations plan on the table. Zabek sat at the far end, scowling at the map as if her mood might make a material change to what was described on it. A pair of troops stood at the door, standing at parade rest; Orlova couldn't really spare them from combat duty, but Sergeant Kozu had effectively ordered her to keep them with her at all times in the event the Legion chose to take another crack at grabbing her.

  “What's the story?” Zabek asked.

  “That was some guy called Pemberton. If we need any sea transport, we've got it.”

  “A thousand miles up the coast? By sail? How long will that take?”

  Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “Too damn long, but at least we're getting some help from someone.”

  “That and a couple of dozen Tatar warriors.”

  “It's a start.” As Orlova watched, another figure walked up to the guards, and after a few seconds they waved him through; the political liaison, Sanderson, walked into the room, stuffing a piece of paper in his pocket.

  "The Provisional Government is, I understand, willing to meet with you."

  Orlova frowned, "Provisional Government of what?"

  Sighing, the political liaison replied, "Jefferson." He raised a hand, "I know, I know, they've gone beyond their remit."

  "Beyond?" Zabek exploded. "Has Howe bothered reading any of the operations reports?"

  Looking down at the floor to his right, Sanderson replied, "I haven't seen Howe since I got back. Green's running the show."

  Rising to her feet, Orlova said, "I understood that he was defeated in the election."

  "He was."

  "Where's Montgomery?"

  A tall figure pushed his way past the guards, into the room, "Right here. And on my way back home."

  Zabek looked at Orlova; the sub-lieutenant replied, "Home?"

  "To tell the farmers that Yreka's hostile territory. That bastard tried to impose some sort of food levy for the Government." He spat on the floor, "We didn't throw one tyrant out to install another. His bully-boys are no match for my men."

  Orlova looked around the room, "I have just received orders from Lieutenant Caine to raise an army for an attack on a Legion installation in close proximity. Our goal is to rescue Captain Marshall and the prisoners – and hopefully finally knock out the Legion leadership."

  Slamming his fist on the table hard enough to spill some beer from the mugs placed around the map, Montgomery replied, "Damn right. I'm in for that one, Miss, if no-one else is. I can probably round up some boys to help out."

  "How much does Green have, anyway?" Orlova asked.

  "About five hundred militia. He was sitting on a lot of money, and he's spending it like water. Those were guys I've fought with, dammit. I thought they were better than that."

  "At least you learned this way rather than in battle," Orlova replied, shaking her head. "Dammit, I don't have time for this." Turning to Zabek, she said, "Go find Howe. Sanderson, you go with her. Take a couple of squads, and take no bullshit. Try not to use lethal force, certainly don't fire first, but get him to the Town Hall."

  For a second, she thought that Sanderson might argue, might object to being ordered around, but one look at her convinced him that this was not a battle he was likely to win. Nodding, he made his way to the door, looking over at the young midshipman still sitting at the table.

  "Coming?" he said.

  "Where are you going, Sub?" Zabek asked.

  Picking up her uniform cap and placing it squarely down on her head, she replied, "To see Green, of course. I suppose there is at least an outside chance he might elect to be sensible. On the assumption that he isn't, move as quickly as you can. And have Kozu standing by." Smiling, she continued, "See if you can get any of those boys of yours, Montgomery, as well."

  Walking out of the bar, she made her way down the street flanked by her two guards. The efforts to repair the damage caused by her original assault – which seemed like years ago, but was in fact only
a few days – seemed to all have been in vain. All the recent street fighting had undone all the work, and the people on the streets that had been cheering the espatiers on earlier now looked at them sullenly, when they looked at them at all. She couldn't find it in her heart to blame them; it was their world that had been torn apart. If it had happened to her, she'd have felt the same way.

  From somewhere, the local militia had obtained uniforms, rough camouflage jackets worn over whatever other clothes they could wear. As she approached the town hall, an impressive structure in the middle of town that somehow reminded her of the now-ruined Governor's Mansion, they were present in greater and greater quantities, and the ordinary citizens seemed to have melted off the streets. A group of them sat in a bar, drinking, and the look on the bartender's face as he looked at her out of the window suggested that they were not paying for their refreshments. She climbed the steps to the entrance, stopped by a pair of guards at the door.

  "Only you, Sub-Lieutenant," one of them said with a sneer. "Your thugs have to wait outside."

  "And how many thugs does Green have, inside?" she asked.

  "No weapons either," he said, gesturing to the pistol at her belt.

  Smiling, she pulled the pistol out of its holster and passed it to one of her guards, turning and saying, "Wait here until I come out."

  "Yes, ma'am," they replied, as they took up positions standing at attention outside the door. Without a further word, she pushed her way in, inwardly laughing at the amateurs that hadn't even bothered to search her; the pistol in her shoulder holster was still intact.

  It was obvious immediately that money had been spent here, money that would probably have been far better spent on the rest of the town; the floors were polished stone, with intricate workmanship, and a series of spiral staircases curved up to a higher floor. At the far end of the room, sitting at the head of a table flanked by flunkies – she only recognized Woodford from earlier – was Howe.

  "We'll be with you in a minute, Sub-Lieutenant," he said.

  Recognizing a deliberate power play when she heard it, Orlova walked forward, "You'll be with me now, Green."

  "My title is more properly Mr. President, Sub-Lieutenant."

  "Call yourself whatever fancy name you want, but I won't." She looked around the table, "I need a strike force for a rescue operation for Captain Marshall. How many men can you give me?"

  "It isn't so simple as that," Woodford said. "There are issues of domestic security to consider."

  "Meaning that you are planning to subjugate the other planetary governments while we deal with the Legion for you." She shook her head, "That simply isn't going to happen."

  Smiling, Green replied, "I don't think that you will leave your Captain and the others in the lurch out there. I have every confidence in your ability to deal with the situation. By all means let me know how it turns out."

  Sighing, Orlova said, "The Triplanetary Confederation was formed to resist exactly that sort of tyranny. They certainly won't deal with a government that has forced its way into office at the point of a gun."

  Rising slowly to his feet, Green looked down at the young sub-lieutenant, "Maybe we're sick of being pushed around. Maybe this was our planet first, before anyone else showed up, and we want it back again. Maybe we think we're better off without you." He laughed, "At the end of the day, it is none of your business how we conduct our affairs."

  Taking a careful stride forward, right up to the edge of the table, Orlova said in her lowest voice, "If it were not for the assault on Yreka, you would still be occupied by the Legion. We made you, Green, and we can damn well break you as well. I'm not going to sit around and watch you become dictator here."

  A few nervous faces looked at each other across the room, but Green's was not amongst them, "We outnumber you. And you will be leaving soon, anyway, if you haven't sold us out first."

  He knew. Those words confirmed to Orlova what she had already suspected; this was all part of the Legion's power-play to resume control. No doubt Green would be President, probably with the powers the old Governor had. Propped up by a Legion that would be only too happy to walk back in and take over as soon as they were gone.

  "I will ask one last time. I need your troops, your five hundred troops, to help me recover the Captain and throw the Legion out."

  "And for the last time, I say no. Leave before I have you arrested."

  Praying that she'd bought enough time for Zabek, Kozu and Montgomery to do their work, Orlova pulled her communicator out of a hidden pocket in the inside of her uniform jacket, selected the 'allcall' frequency, and as ostentatiously as she could, began to speak.

  "This is Orlova. Feel free to come in."

  Green responded first, "If this is some sort of threat, Sub-Lieutenant..."

  "We're past words, Green." A pair of explosions tore through the main door of the hall that she had walked through a few minutes before, the bodies of the two thugs at the door flying through them as a squad of espatiers marched into the room. Behind them, a dazed-looking Howe was walking in, flanked by Sanderson at his side; Zabek had a bandage wrapped around her head, blood spilled into it, but otherwise looked fine. Montgomery strolled in after them, a group of civilians walking behind him carrying guns Orlova hoped they knew how to use.

  "What is the meaning of this?"

  Turning on her heel, Orlova said to Zabek, "I am declaring a state of martial law to keep the peace, effective immediately. As commander I am appointing Captain Montgomery of the local militia."

  Nodding, the burly man stepped up towards Green, a smile on his face, "You and the rest of these bastards are under arrest, for sedition and, in all likelihood, treason." Gesturing towards his men, they raced forward and seized them, pulling them up from the table, chairs clattering to the ground. "I would appreciate the loan of some of your people to help escort them," he said to Orlova.

  "Certainly," she replied. "Have Sergeant Kozu accompany you with a detail." Turning to Howe, she said, "The Triplanetary Government still acknowledges you as the Major of Yreka, sir."

  Mumbling, he nodded, "Thank you, thank you." There were bruises around his head, and his eyes looked as if they were struggling to focus. With help from Sanderson, he stumbled over to the chair at the head of the table, and carefully sat down, looking across the room.

  "What happened?" Orlova whispered to Zabek.

  "I think they were trying to get him to resign, or something like that. He wouldn't; they were working him over pretty throughly when we got there."

  "Damn. What state is he in?"

  "Mild concussion, shock. I've got a medic on the way to look him over, but you said you needed him here in a hurry."

  Nodding, she turned back to the table. Now it was Howe, Sanderson and Montgomery; McIntosh made his way forward from the crowd and took a seat. She wouldn't care to guess which side he had been on in the recent fighting, but he had obviously managed to develop a talent for choosing a winner.

  "Mr. Mayor," she said, addressing Howe, "a few minutes ago, I asked Mr. Green for forces to help me in an operation to rescue Captain Marshall, and strike a serious blow against the Legion. He refused, not that he was in any position to officially accede or reject. I now ask you again – will you provide us with the troops we're going to need to pull off this operation?"

  "Hell, yes," Montgomery said.

  Howe nodded for a second, then looked over at Sanderson, "What do you think?"

  Turning to Orlova, the politician said, his voice shaky and uncertain, "What happens if we say no? Do you throw us into jail and place Captain Montgomery in charge? You already have control of Yreka."

  "No, sir. Captain Montgomery has control of law and order until peace has been restored here, a condition I very much hope will resume soon. If you reject my request, then we will attempt to complete the mission by ourselves. You are the officially recognized government of Yreka, and we will listen to what you say. I won't like it, but I won't throw you out."

&nb
sp; Sanderson nodded, looking at Howe, "We should do this."

  "Very well," Howe said, coughing. "Montgomery, you organize this. Do everything you can to help."

  "Use the troops Green gathered," Sanderson said, a suggestion that had the force of an order. "We want them off the streets."

  "Thank you," Orlova replied. "We'll make good use of them."

  Nodding, Sanderson said, "I'm sure you will. If you don't mind, we have a lot to deal with now. Please co-ordinate with Captain Montgomery to get the streets cleared, we appreciate any assistance the Triplanetary Confederation can offer."

  "Certainly." Standing to attention, Orlova turned to leave, but Sanderson stopped her.

  "One last thing."

  "Sir?"

  "If Green had given you troops, would you still have ousted him?"

  She paused for a second before replying, "You are the government we recognized, Mr. Sanderson. We stand behind you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Roars of thunder echoed through the cell, lightning flashes briefly illuminating the worried faces of Cunningham and Mulenga. Marshall was over by the window, looking out at the storm, a light patter of rain drizzling onto him. Thick clouds blocked out the stars, but he fancied he could see them anyway; certainly a large part of him was up at Alamo, longing to do something, do anything other than wait.

  "It's getting to you, isn't it?" Cunningham said, standing up and walking over the Marshall.

  He replied, "Sitting down and waiting for something to happen is bad enough when you are the one making the decisions. Just sitting and waiting for something to happen if a thousand times worse."

  "We went through this often enough in the war, Danny."

  Turning to face him, Marshall replied, shaking his head, "This is different. Now I'm the one they're going to risk their lives for. Stuck here in this cell." He smiled, "We both know that Orlova will turn up here sooner or later, and so do our friends downstairs. These defenses weren't built for fun."

  "You think she'll attack?"

  "I don't think, I know. She'll find some way."