Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Orbit

by Richard Tongue

   Glancing to the left, he looked for Rhodes, unable to pick the trooper out amid the terrain. The thought belatedly occurred to him that the Xandari might be using their stealth suits to infiltrate them, but he shook his head. They hadn't had time to reach him on foot, and they'd have seen any other vehicles heading their way.

   Finally, he found what he was looking for, a pair of tall rocks leaning on each other, a narrow slit that was perfect as a firing position. He settled down into the dirt, leveling his pistol, taking careful aim at the leading buggy, waiting for them to get close enough to take his shot. Sweat poured down the back of his neck, the baking sun burning down on him, and he longed to reach for a drink from his canteen as the Xandari buggy slowed, easing its way over the broken surface.

   Any second now, they'd be launching their attack. He had to get in first, to try and disrupt their offensive, or they wouldn't have a chance. With a gentle squeeze, he pulled the trigger, sending a ball of green flame racing across the landscape towards its target. A second one came from the left, the two men firing at almost the same instant, catching the leading buggy in a crossfire.

   The explosion roared across the battlefield, thick smoke rising from the wreckage of the vehicle, the second buggy grinding to a halt as the Xandari warriors moved to take cover from the prey they had been hunting. Suddenly the battle had been turned around. Cooper looked at the power readings on his pistol, shaking his head. Four shots left, even at the lowest possible setting. And no way to recharge them until he reached another shuttle.

   To his right, a boulder erupted, a second shot from Rhodes depriving two of the Xandari of their cover, the hot shrapnel depriving one of them of his life. Cooper turned towards the other, but shook his head. Taking down one wasn't enough. He'd counted nine shapes emerging from the buggy, and the plasma pistols were an overkill they couldn't afford.

   Sliding his pistol back into its holster, switching off the charge with the touch of a button, he took his rifle in his hands and started to edge forward, moving around the safety of his cover to get closer to the enemy, trying to draw them out. A bullet scraped off a rock to his right, and he turned to see a shape ducking behind a rock, taking a snap shot that missed his target by inches.

   Crouching behind a gully, he picked his way through the landscape, periodically ducking to avoid blasts of gunfire over his head, the Xandari attempting to keep them pinned down. Doubtless they were hoping for the imminent arrival of reinforcements, but he was determined to finish them off first, finally catching three of them moving between firing positions.

   It took five shots to bring them down, their bodies twitching in the dirt. He heard another shot to his left, followed by a desperate scream, Rhodes picking off another of their adversaries. Glancing around, he risked moving forward, still keeping low, rifle sweaty in his hands. Then the world erupted around him, a blast of heat from a plasma ball erupting by his side, instinct sending him diving into cover.

   The dust sent him into a paroxysm of choking, the side of his face raw from the heat, but he managed to spot another of the Xandari ahead, moving forward in the mistaken belief that he had killed his target. A bullet to the forehead proved that he hadn't, and now Cooper knew that their opponents were on the run, that he could take advantage of their weakness.

   He knew where they were going. The buggy. Either to pull back and bring forward reinforcements, or to detonate the power packs, wiping everyone out in a glorious last stand. Cooper had no intention of giving them the opportunity, and fired a long burst of semi-automatic fire to clear his advance, running in a long curve towards the vehicle, drawing the Xandari from their hiding place.

   As he'd hoped, Rhodes took full advantage of the opportunity he provided, a series of careful shots bringing down the last of their enemies. Looking around, Cooper rose to his feet, shaking his head, wary of another ambush. Rhodes walked towards him, rifle back over his shoulder, a smile on his face.

   “Looks like we've got a ride, sir,” he said, gesturing at the buggy. Cooper walked over to it, nodding. The controls were alien, but seemed straightforward enough, and somehow the vehicle had come through the firefight without sustaining any damage.

   “Sergeant!” Cooper yelled, waving a hand. “Get over here on the double, and bring the wounded. There are probably more Xandari on the way, and it would be nice to get back to the others before dark.” Turning to Rhodes, he said, “See if you can figure out the plasma cannon, but for God's sake don't push any buttons you aren't sure of while we're on the move.”

   “Artillery, sir?” he asked.

   “Something like that,” he replied, settling into the driving seat. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, looking around at the controls, and smiled. This was the first lucky break they'd had since they'd arrived in this cursed system. And one that just might save all of their lives, if they could ride it.

   “Come on!” Cooper called. “Let's get this wagon rolling.”

  Chapter 13

   Orlova stared through the observation port, watching as the desert moon passed in front of the Xandari homeworld, lost in her thoughts. Everything had fallen apart so quickly, all the hopes and dreams coming to an end. When she'd met Salazar in sickbay, she'd still been operating on the adrenaline of battle, all of that shattered in an instant by his angry words.

   And somehow, she couldn't disagree with anything that he had said. They'd gone into this thinking that they could win the war, that Alamo and her crew could beat the odds once more, save countless worlds with one glorious moment, and when the time came, they had failed.

   She had failed.

   Cooper had done his part, down on the surface, and if the reports from Harper were correct, he'd done it at a terrible price, losing dozens of soldiers in the desperate assault on the enemy base. And yet, they'd established the jamming field, given the strike team the chance to press their attack home. Salazar and his squadron, likewise, had done everything they had set out to do, and more besides. The gap in the enemy missile network was still there, but there was nothing they could do to exploit that weakness.

   She should have been faster, should have seen the danger they were in. Over and over again, she ran the lunar flyby through in her mind, knowing that there were a hundred things she could have done. And yet, how could she have known? A pair of abandoned communications satellites, abandoned in place just as dozens, hundreds of similar satellites had been back home, dormant for some unknown future use. The Xandari had certainly found a good use for them.

   Just on Alamo, fifteen dead. More on the surface, and still more on the escorts. Damage reports continued to stream in as the ship limped out into the deep system, still on a course taking them nowhere, on an endless voyage through eternity. There was no safe harbor, not in this system, and they'd known that going in. Almost every world had its own garrison, and it would take more than five days for them to reach any hendecaspace point other than the one they had used to get here, one now guarded by a squadron of capital ships.

   Running would be pointless. There was little work Quinn and his team could do on the outer hull while they were accelerating, and if they stopped, they would be vulnerable to attack. If they ran for one of the other egress points, the cruiser squadron could simply jump ahead of them, be waiting for them on arrival. However she ran it, they were trapped.

   Ultimately, it would come down to choosing a time and place for her fleet to die, one last, glorious battle to do as much damage as possible. There was a chance that one of the escorts might get away, should the rest of the fleet sacrifice their lives to give them the opportunity, but even then, escape would be temporary at best. The Xandari would follow, knowing exactly where they were going, the only route back to the Confederation. One small ship would be no match for the forces arrayed against them.

   Salazar was right. They'd ridden their luck as far as it could possibly go already, and they'd run out just at the worst moment. She'd
bet the whole war on one mission, and as far as she could see, she'd lost. Now there was nothing standing in the way of the Xandari, nothing to prevent them putting their fleet back together again and resuming their advance, all the way to Copernicus, to Testament Station, and beyond.

   Commodore Marshall's task force would be engaging the enemy soon enough, but at a time and place of the Xandari's choosing, with sufficient strength that he wouldn't have a chance. Alamo had infiltrated its way into the Xandari Empire through a combination of luck and judgment, but she knew that the enemy wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

   The enemy homeworld drifted back into view, and she looked over the planet, a mix of greens and blue, a world not unlike Copernicus, or Old Earth for that matter, before the Third World War. A prize worth fighting for, worth defending. It seemed so beautiful, a gleaming jewel that hung in the sky. And yet, it was home to the greatest enemy the Confederation had ever faced.

   She heard the door open behind her, and Nelyubov walked into the room, moving to stand by her side, sharing the view in silence as though attempting to read her thoughts before speaking. She kept her eyes locked on the planet, slowly receding as Alamo continued its escape into oblivion.

   “Latest damage reports,” he finally said. “Not great news, but Jack's brought the main power grid back online. With the caveat that it's liable to go again if we sustain any more serious damage. We're running on emergency relays right now. Internal communications is back, and we've got laser contact with the rest of the fleet.”

   “Their status?” she asked.

   “About the same as ours. Red Avenger came off lightest, but only just. We've got shuttles going over now to transfer wounded.” Shaking his head, he said, “They're barely got more than first aid capability over there. Doctor Duquesne and her people are setting up a third triage facility in Storage Five. No more dead, and she doesn't expect to lose anyone else from the crew.”

   “Any word from the surface?”

   “Weitzman's been trying to contact them, but we can't break through the jamming. With the rear sensor pickups out, we can't even get any good images of the surface, though at this range, that would be touch-and-go in any case.” Shaking his head, he said, “I don't really have any good news for you, Maggie, but I'm pretty sure you know that already.”

   “I figured as much.”

   “As for Lieutenant Salazar, I...”

   “No action will be taken.”

   “He committed insubordination in front of the crew, Maggie. You can't let that slide.”

   “The man was injured in action, after saving this ship, pumped full of painkillers and stimulants and watched a good friend die in front of him. I'm not going to hold him responsible for his words. Especially not when I agree with them.”

   Shaking his head, Nelyubov replied, “He was wrong.”

   “Was he? Maybe we were too damned arrogant. We'd started to underestimate our enemy, we thought we'd always find a way to win. Well, that hasn't worked out this time, has it.” Shaking her head, she added, “The one damned piece of equipment that wasn't shot the hell was the K-Bomb, but that's probably going to rust away in the hangar deck.”

   “We've got time,” Nelyubov said. “And more than enough fuel to do a full turn, go back to the planet and have another try. This battle isn't over yet, and you know it.”

   “And if we do that,” she said, “we both know what happens next. That cruiser squadron forms up, possibly with a couple of fighter squadrons, and meets us halfway. If we somehow manage to fight our way through, then we've still got all of the orbital defenses waiting for us at the far end. Not that we're going to get through. Sixteen missiles against twenty-four was fine, Frank, but we're down to sixteen against twelve, and those cruisers will have the perfect opportunity to meet us on their terms.”

   Before Nelyubov could reply, she continued, “And say we try for somewhere else. The same thing happens, right there. No matter which exit point we try. Face it, Frank, we've lost this one. About the only choice we have left is to decide where we're going to die.” With a sigh, she replied, “We will head back to the Xandari homeworld. Maybe, if we get close enough, we could still deliver the bomb, but I don't for a moment think they'll let us take that chance.”

   “Who says we have to go back right away?” Nelyubov replied. “We can hang out here for weeks, get the ship back to full strength, then return for a counter-attack. Meanwhile we can use the escorts for hit and run raids. I've identified a few transports on in-system runs we'd have a good chance of bringing down, all of them only lightly defended.”

   “And one of them is almost certainly a Q-Ship, ready to catch us by surprise, because every damned thing in this system is a trap, Frank. They might not have known we were coming, but they were prepared to face off an attack. Meanwhile, we've still got fifty or sixty people down on the planet's surface, and your plan writes them all off without a chance. Without support from the escorts, they can't get off that rock, and they've only got enough supplies for a couple of days. Assuming the Xandari don't just wipe them out sooner.”

   She turned to the front of the observation room, looking out at the starfield ahead, the long double tail of a comet stabbing through the sky before her. It was one of the most beautiful sights in space, but she paid it no mind as she continued to churn through the dire prospects they were facing.

   “Maggie,” Nelyubov said, “the tactical situation hasn't really changed. We've opened up the gap in the missile defenses. All we have to do is get the bomber into a position to make its run, and we can still win the war.” Shaking his head, he added, “Going in, we knew that this could be a one-way trip. That we had to drop that bomb or lose it all.”

   “Except now, instead of launching a surprise attack, we're going to be running into prepared defenses, a massed formation of enemy ships that won't be decoyed by fears of another fleet. One that knows that they've only got to take down Alamo to win the war.”

   “Fine, then we've got to decoy them away, somehow,” he said. “If we can break up the defenses, then we could still press that attack home. And as soon as that bomb detonates, the war ends, whether we survive or not. The Xandari won't recover for centuries.”

   Orlova looked at the comet again, a smile creeping on her face. She pulled out her datapad, running a series of numbers on it, then turned to Nelyubov, placing her hands on his shoulders, a triumphant grin washing away the misery on her face.

   “That's it! You're a damned tactical genius, Frank!” She ran for the elevator, and he hurried to catch up, only just getting in before the doors slid shut behind him.

   “Where are we going?”

   “Astrogation,” she replied.

   “A lot of our sensors aren't functioning, remember,” Nelyubov said. “I don't think we'll get a better picture of the local area than we will on the bridge. Maybe...”

   “I don't need detailed scans, Frank, I just need to make a course projection.” She turned to him, and said, “If it looked as though we were making for the inner planet, following our original contingency plan, what would the enemy do?”

   “As soon as they were sure, they'd send the cruisers into position to block us, have them make an in-system jump to our presumed destination.” He paused, then added, “On our current course, we'd be committed to that trajectory, Maggie. We wouldn't be able to turn back to the enemy homeworld, and you know there's no way they're simply going to let us leave the system. I suppose we could do a fast flyby once we got there, turn right around, but that's chancy as hell.”

   “They'd have to make that move now,” Orlova said. “They couldn't wait for long. We'd be there in five and a half days, and they'd want to be able to catch us at a distance.”

   “Probably not,” Nelyubov agreed. “If I was commanding their defenses, I'd wait an hour, say, then commit to the ambush. After all, it would be days before we could alter our course anyway. As I sa
id, once we do this, we're locked in on that heading.” Shaking his head, he added, “The power grid is in a bad enough condition now. I don't think Jack will like maintaining full acceleration for long. And I don't see how we can shave any time.”

   “We don't have to.”

   As if he hadn't heard her, Nelyubov continued, “I suppose there's a chance one of the escorts might, though even then, the enemy will probably just smash them to pieces in the next system. Unless we do enough damage to the cruisers to stop them jumping, but we can't count on that.” He paused, then said, “What do you mean, we don't have to?”

   “If my guess is right, we can decoy those cruisers away and still have a fighting chance of knocking out the enemy defenses, put that bomb exactly where we wanted it, and with a hell of a lot more velocity than we were expecting. We'd also be able to rescue our people from the surface, but that's going to take a pretty wild shuttle ride.”

   “I don't get it,” he asked, as the door opened. As they walked out, they almost walked into Salazar and Harper, heading in the other direction. When the pilot saw Orlova, his face blushed, and he looked down at the deck.

   “Captain, I'd like to apologize...”

   “Forget it, Pavel, we've got more important things to do.”

   Nodding, he said, “I've had an idea, Captain. I looked at the path ahead, and there's a large comet almost...”

   A smile beamed on her face as she replied, “You read my mind. Have you computed the course yet?”

   “I was just going to do that now.”

   Frowning, Nelyubov said, “I know that I'm just a simple old Executive Officer, but could someone tell me just what the two of you have in mind?”

   As the quartet walked into the astrogation room, Orlova and Salazar racing for the terminal, Harper said, “We need to decoy the cruisers away, lure them somewhere else in the system, if we're going to have any chance of pulling off a second attack on the homeworld, right?”