Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Orbit

by Richard Tongue

   She didn't pause to reply, racing for the elevator and slamming the control, the doors sliding shut. Pulling out her datapad, she forwarded the few notes she'd made from the battle to the Captain's queue, then reached for her communicator before shaking her head. What could she report? That the assault force had been smashed, had completed its mission at a terrible cost but was now stranded in an empty desert in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Xandari who would soon finish the job?

   The door opened, and she stepped out into the corridor, almost tripping over a wounded man lying on the floor, the first of a long row of casualties being treated by the overworked medical team. She saw Salazar inside, his bandaged arm in a sling, standing over a man lying on a diagnostic table. One glance confirmed what she already knew. The man in the bed was dying.

   She walked over to it, standing by Salazar's side, and looked down at Spaceman Bartlett, his face covered in burns, barely recognizable, but still forcing a smile. Salazar's face was empty, cold, his eyes seeming to stare into infinity as his friend took his last breath.

   “See them for me, Pavel,” Bartlett gasped. “Tell them I love them.”

   “I will, Ben,” he replied, taking the man's hand. “I swear.”

   Bartlett's eyes drifted shut, and his face turned to the side, the monitors emitting the dull tone that indicated that all life-signs had ended. One of the medics moved to the side, reaching for the body, but Salazar shook his head.

   “Can't he rest for one damned minute,” he barked.

   “We need the bed, sir.”

   Closing his eyes, Salazar nodded, and said, “I'm sorry, Specialist. Please excuse me.”

   “Pavel…,” Harper said, and Salazar looked up, disbelief in his eyes.

   “Where the hell did you come from?”

   “And there I thought you'd be pleased to see me.”

   Holding her shoulder with his good hand, he replied, “That was you in the shuttle, then?”

   “Gabe sent me up with the worst of the casualties from the surface. We haven't had any contact with Alamo since the jamming field. What happened to you?”

   “Shrapnel,” he replied, turning back to his friend as the orderlies carefully removed him from the bed, placing him with the other bodies in the corner. “Nothing. I'm still about as fit for duty as anyone else is around here.” A tear formed in his eye, and he continued, “I lost half the squadron, Kris, and damned lucky not to lose all of them.”

   The door opened, and Orlova stepped into the room, walking to Harper, and said, “Welcome home, Lieutenant. I'll need a full report on conditions on the surface. We've...”

   “I'll tell you what conditions on the surface are like, Captain,” Salazar said, stepping forward. “Desperate, bordering on hopeless, with double-digit casualties and growing worse every time. Just like things are up here.”

   “Pavel…,” she began.

   “And all of it was for nothing! Half my people are killed, ten more up here, God only knows how many on the surface, and the ship ripped to pieces in an ambush. The whole thing was a set-up, and we just walked right into it! We were so damned arrogant, Captain, thinking that we could win this war by ourselves.” Gesturing around the medical bay, he said, “Here's your victory, Captain. Ben Bartlett is never going to see his daughter. She's going to grow up without a father, and it's because of your damn arrogance. They're paying the price, Captain. We all are.”

   All eyes were on Salazar as he shook his head, and continued, “How much blood do you want on your hands, Captain? I hope to hell it was worth it.” Without waiting to be dismissed, he walked out of the room, leaving Orlova standing in stunned silence behind.

   Harper looked after him, then said, “Captain...Maggie...he's not himself. They must have drugged him, and he's been wounded. Don't blame him.”

   “I don't,” she said, quietly. “He's right.” She sighed, then walked over to the far side of the room, looking at the casualties. Glancing back at her for a second, Harper raced out into the corridor, trying to catch up with Salazar.

   “Pavel?” she yelled. “Wait, Pavel.”

   Salazar paused, looked back, and said, “I won't apologize. She can court-martial me if she wants. Hell, I deserve it. I'm as guilty as she is. I should have placed my protest on record with Quinn and Powell. Maybe that would have stopped all of this insanity.” Bitter tears ran down his cheeks, and said, “We were so close, Kris. So close to going home in triumph. How many on the surface?” She looked at him, eyes wide, and he repeated, “How many?”

   “Thirty-two, we estimate. Probably more.”

   He slumped to the floor, sliding down the wall, and looked down at his feet, saying, “Thirty-two. We've been in this system for less than an hour, and we've lost a third of our people, almost half of our ships. The whole thing was a trap, right from the start. They knew we were coming.” Looking up at her, he continued, “The best part? The weapons they used were a derivation of the K-Bomb. Oh, an inferior variant, they aren't there yet, but they've got them.”

   Harper's mouth widened, and she replied, “Then that just makes this more important.”

   “Does it?” he said. “Kris, we're beaten. There's no way out of this system, and we're on a course taking us exactly nowhere. There's a reason they aren't bothering to pursue us. They don't have to. Either they're going to let us wander through space forever, or they'll smash us to pieces when we decide to go down in a blaze of glory.”

   Harper looked at him in disgust, then slapped him across the face, leaving him rubbing his reddened cheek.

   “What the hell?”

   “All this time I've known you, Pavel, and I never knew you were a coward. Fine, the situation is desperate. Fine, we probably shouldn't have fallen into this trap in the first place. But sitting weeping on the deck isn't going to save anything. You think you've had a bad day? I got to watch people being burned alive in front of me. You haven't seen anything. So get up off your butt and start thinking of a way out of this nightmare. Or a lot more people are going to lose their loved ones, you and me included. You hear me?”

   Forcing a smile, he replied, “I didn't know you'd been taking lessons in bedside manner from the good doctor.”

   “I just say it as I see it, Pavel. Now, shall we get to work?”

  Chapter 12

   Cooper looked around at the horizon through his binoculars, killing a couple of minutes while his group prepared to move out. The landscape was the same, whichever way he looked. Bleak brown desert punctuated by black rocks, the only variation the mountains rising to the north, their ultimate destination. The heat burned down on him, and he rubbed the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

   None of them were properly equipped for desert travel. The plan had been for a short firefight and withdrawal, nothing more. They'd been ready to face defeat, but the thought that they would be stranded on the surface for any length of time had simply not occurred to them. Not that there would have been much they could have done about it, anyway. The Triplanetary Espatier Corps had trained to fight in space, not on the surface of a planet, and while they had been making up for that in recent years, their equipment still had a long way to go, most of it based on decades-old designs from long-forgotten wars deep in Earth's history.

   “I think I've got the route pinpointed now, Major,” Rhodes said, walking towards him, datapad in hand. “Twenty-nine miles over rough terrain.” Glancing at his watch, he added, “It'll be dark in about four hours, sir. From what I know of desert travel, we'd be better off waiting until nightfall. Prepare a defensive perimeter, just in case any friends show up.”

   “No,” Cooper replied. “We'll move out as soon as we're ready. I don't want to be out of contact with the rest of the attack force for any longer than necessary.” Turning to the trooper, a smile on his face, he added, “Don't you want to have a nice walk in the sunshine?”

   “I can li
ve without it, sir,” he said, with a frown. “I was thinking of the wounded. Giving them a little more time to recover might not be a bad idea. And there's no sign of pursuit so far.”

   “We're less than a hundred miles from the enemy base, Corporal. Not far enough for my liking, and we've only got three plasma weapons between us. I'm sure they've got some sort of transport capability. All we've done is buy a little time. We've got to use it well.”

   The medic, Specialist Hughes, walked out of the shuttle, rubbing her hands by her side, and said, “We're about ready to go, sir. I've got both our casualties on stretchers, and I've packed all the medical equipment we can carry.” She frowned, then added, “If you could give me a couple more hours, I might...”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “We move out in two minutes. Rhodes, you, Hunt and I will be the escort. The rest are stretcher bearers. Don't push the pace too hard, but we've got to move as fast as we can.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “We should be able to cover the distance in six hours over this sort of terrain.”

   “I could push ahead,” Rhodes suggested. “Try and make contact with the rest of the strike force. I know I could make the distance in four hours, sir. Maybe three, if I push it.”

   “Ever walked across a desert, Corporal?” Hunt said, climbing out of the shuttle.

   “No, sir, I haven't.”

   “Neither have I, but I've gone over the survival manuals often enough to know what we're capable of. Stick with the group.” Turning to Cooper, he continued, “All canteens are full, sir, and I've set charges around the shuttle to detonate if anyone comes near it. Or after six hours, whichever comes first. No chance of anyone getting more use out of it.” Shaking his head, he added, “Shame to waste such a good landing.”

   Hughes stepped back into the shuttle, and a moment later emerged with one of the technicians behind her, the two carrying a stretcher with Bradley lying upon it, a faint rumbling noise coming from her mouth. Cooper shook his head with a smile, then turned to the desert, following the path selected by Rhodes. To say the least, it didn't look particularly appealing. An endless, empty wasteland.

   “Let's move out, people. Rhodes, you take point. Hunt, stick with me. If anyone sees anything, call out at once. Don't worry about false alarms. Let me decide what's important. If we do come under attack, get the wounded into cover first.” Gesturing at the rocks, he added, “Plenty of that around, at least.”

   He waited a few seconds, letting Rhodes lead the way, then started on the path away from the shuttle, glancing back to make sure the stretcher bearers were keeping up, careful to set a pace they could follow. Hunt walked by his side, rifle slung over his shoulder, and took a deep swig from his canteen before replacing it at his belt.

   “Might want to save some of that for later,” Cooper said.

   “Better to drink it when you want it,” Hunt replied. “Damn, it's hot. Think they'll ever get around to giving us some decent hot-weather gear?”

   “Probably some day,” Cooper replied. “Maybe when you get home.”

   “Hey, wait a minute, Major,” Hunt said. “You make it sound like you aren't.”

   “I'm not,” he replied, shaking his head. “But not in the way you mean. I'm retiring.”

   “You're kidding.”

   “No, honest truth.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I've had it, Sergeant. I've seen one battle too many, and my tour of duty is done. Hence the surprise promotion. A little leaving present from Captain Orlova to bump my pension up a little.” Glancing back at Bradley, he continued, “We're staying on Copernicus when we get back, after the mission.”

   “I can't believe it,” Hunt replied. “I'd have thought you'd have died in uniform.”

   “That's almost come true once too often. It's time for us to settle down, think about starting a family while we're both young enough to enjoy it. Besides, I got used to breathing real air, and I won't get to do that if we go back to Mars.”

   “What are you going to do?”

   “Colonel Kilquan's selling us a war-surplus heavy shuttle. There are going to be a lot of salvage operations over the next few years at Copernicus, and we shouldn't have any trouble getting a few government contracts to support them. By then the Confederation will be moving in, big trade contracts, and we ought to be able to get in on the ground floor. Give it a few years, we'll be running a decent-sized shipping operation.”

   “I might want to come after you for a job when I've finished my twenty years,” Hunt said. “So, this is the last fling.”

   “We both wanted to go out big, and I can't think of a bigger mission to end my career with. Besides, once this is done, the war will be over. It's this or a training command, and the odds of the two of us getting split up are a little too big for our liking. This way, we get to take control of our own lives again, and I can't wait.”

   “Gagh,” Hunt said. “Shore duty, after all of this. I ought to be looking forward to it, but I'll probably end up with a group of rookies to pamper for a year.” With a shrug, he added, “Hopefully I'll be able to talk someone into letting me ship out again.”

   “You've only got five years left, Sergeant,” Cooper replied. “They might give you a short-service commission, especially if you go into training. You know they're going to be hungry for people.” Gesturing at Rhodes, he added, “That's his idea, anyway.”

   “Rhodes? An officer?”

   “He's applying for OCS when we get back. I wrote the letter of recommendation for him last week, and Pavel countersigned it.” With a smile, Cooper said, “I know, I know, but he's come a long way over the last few months, and this might be just what he needs.”

   Shaking his head, Hunt replied, “I'm just struggling to get to grips with the idea that I might have to salute that renegade some day. Maybe I should try for that short-service commission after all, even if it means sitting behind a desk somewhere.” He reached for his canteen again, and said, “What do we do next, when we get to the shuttles?”

   “Defensive perimeter and wait for orders. Or for as long as our supplies hold out. This doesn't look like the sort of place where we can live off the land. Otherwise, I'm afraid we're going to be entering the realm of the glorious last stand. I don't think the Xandari are going to allow us to sit by for long in our mountain paradise. If they need to, they can ship in a couple of thousand troops from their homeworld to wipe them out.”

   “It'll be a battle they don't forget in a hurry.”

   “You can count on that,” he replied.

   Pulling out his datapad, Cooper looked at the last of the sensor logs, and said, “I really thought we had this fight won. We certainly paid a big enough price for it.”

   “We still might, sir.”

   “With Alamo retreating into the outer system, half the escorts smashed?” Shaking his head, he added, “Right now I'll settle for finding a way back to Copernicus. Maybe we can hijack a transport. We've got plenty of targets to choose from.” A smile curled across his face, and he added, “Of course, we'd have to get past nine squadrons of fighters and half a dozen capital ships first.”

   “That's the officer I know,” Hunt said. “Never one to let minor problems slow you down.”

   Up ahead, Rhodes raised his hand, and the column immediately halted, Cooper running forward to catch up to the scout, keeping low to avoid detection. The stretcher bearers moved their charges into cover, then followed themselves, rifles in hand, while Hunt checked the rear.

   “What is it, Corporal?” Cooper asked.

   “Two o' clock, sir,” Rhodes replied. “Dust cloud.”

   Cooper pulled out his binoculars and scanned the horizon, cursing under his breath as he saw the cause of the disturbance. A pair of vehicles heading in their direction, fast, high-wheeled buggies, with what could only be plasma cannons mounted on the rear. He quickly looked around, trying to pick a path through the rocks. They wouldn't be a
ble to get close, but with weapons like that at their disposal, they wouldn't have to. Even a near miss would wipe them all out with ease.

   “Orders, sir?”

   Turning to Hunt, Cooper said, “Sergeant, keep everyone low, and be ready to give me covering fire if I need it. I'm going hunting.”

   “Not alone, sir,” Rhodes said, pulling out his plasma pistol.

   “Always good to have company. I'll take the right, you take the left. Keep low and move quickly. If you get a decent firing position, feel free to make use of it. Move out.”

   With a curt nod, the trooper started to pick his way around the rocks, Cooper moving in the opposite direction. He could hear the rumble of the engine in the distance now, steadily growing, the buggies moving towards them with a precision that told of advanced knowledge. He glanced up in the sky, and cursed. They must have had the whole group under orbital observation since the beginning. He'd assumed that, but had hoped they wouldn't have had the ability to make use of it so soon.

   Carefully dodging around a boulder, he slammed the charge switch on his plasma pistol home. No point using stealth, not if they already knew he was here. They had to stop those buggies, no matter what it took. If they got past his column, they'd be attacking the shuttles in moments, and without them, they were stranded on the surface, their last hope of escape lost.

   He peered over a jagged rock, trying to guess the range. Certainly their vehicle-mounted cannons would have greater capability than his pistol, but they looked old, archaic, bulky. The batteries far larger than anything a Triplanetary vehicle would carry. Old, obsolete equipment, perhaps, left here on this moon rather than waste the space-lift to move them.

   Taking a last look back at the wounded, checking for himself that their cover was as good as it could be, he moved on, selecting a careful path across the terrain. About the only advantage he had was that he could stay out of line of sight, though with a cannon that large, even the biggest boulder wouldn't do anything to protect him.