Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Orbit

by Richard Tongue

   Nodding, she replied, “At least the trip home should be nice and quiet. What about the Professor? Any change?”

   “Doctor Duquesne asked me to tell you that she isn't a psychiatrist, and that we don't have any experts on board remotely qualified to judge, but that in her opinion he's had a complete nervous breakdown. I've confined him to quarters and assigned a guard, but he seems quiet enough now. It's as though he's blanked out his whole memory of the operation.” He paused, then asked, “Are you pressing formal charges?”

   “Not as long as he agrees to retire quietly. We don't know what he went through in that prison camp, Pavel, and he's an old man who has earned a long rest. Mind, I can say that about all of us. A nice, long leave sounds like a good idea right now.” She looked up at him, and said, “Settling into your new duties yet?”

   “Something else to get used to, but so far all I've noticed is that that paperwork has quintupled. Frank was weeks behind, and I'm not sure I'm going to catch up before we get back.” He paused, then said, “How are you holding up, Captain? If you don't mind my asking.”

   “Not at all,” she replied. “It's strange, Pavel. I had no idea how he felt about me, but in retrospect it seems so damned obvious.” Shaking her head, she added, “He claimed he was following your advice. You knew?”

   “I guessed, back at Yeager Station, and he didn't deny it when I asked.”

   “Eighteen months ago?” she replied. “You've known for that long?”

   “It wasn't my place to interfere. I simply told him that he should make sure you knew before it was too late. In my judgment, he didn't take my advice.” With a frown, he added, “I must admit, I wasn't expecting any of this when we jumped into the system. In all honestly, I thought we'd die here. I figured we had a good chance of completing the mission, but not living through it.”

   “You think you're surprised?” she replied. “I was three minutes away from a suicide mission when Frank pulled that tranq gun on me.” Looking down at the datapad on her desk, she continued, “I take it we've got the final casualty list now. I haven't seen any updates for a while.”

   “I believe so,” he said. “Everyone in sickbay now is stable, though we might have to leave some behind on Copernicus for long-term hospitalization on our way back. In total, we lost forty-one members of the assault team, four of the squadron, and thirty-one Alamo crewmen. Including Frank and Jack.” With a sigh, he said, “I'm going to miss them both. If you want someone to countersign the recommendations for the Star Cross, I'd be honored.”

   “I could give a dozen of them out without thinking twice,” she said. “But that's one piece of paperwork I don't mind signing.” Tapping the desk, she added, “I'll be starting work on the letters home tomorrow. Something I'm not looking forward to. So many dead, after coming so far.”

   “You were right, Captain,” Salazar said. “I admit I had doubts, but you were right. We completed the mission, ended the war.” Cracking a thin smile, he added, “Though Commodore Marshall might be a little frustrated that you've only left some mopping-up operations for his task force.” Glancing down at his datapad, he added, “Oh, we've got final confirmation of the surrender order from the cruiser squadron, as well. I think seeing what had happened to the homeworld silenced the last of the critics.”

   Turning to the viewport, the planet visible in the heart of the screen with its shroud of debris, Orlova said, “It seems almost inconceivable that we could have such an effect. Scott and Spinelli have gone over the long-term projections again. This time we got a figure of a hundred and twenty years before anyone can pass through, in either direction, though I suspect that won't stop some making the attempt.”

   “Going back down might be possible, if you moved fast enough, had tough ablative armor, but I wouldn't want to risk it,” Salazar replied. “And what happens when the shroud clears, do you think? Is this a permanent peace, or are we simply postponing the crisis for a few generations?”

   “I'd like to think that we'll find a way to live with the Xandari long before then. Tell me, would you have thought even six months ago that we'd have a delegation of their leading citizens boarding the ship to sign a surrender agreement in our lifetimes?” Glancing at her watch, she added, “They're scheduled to dock in four minutes.”

   “Probably not, ma'am,” he replied, tugging at his jacket. “Tell me one thing, though. If they are the ones who are surrendering, why are we the ones struggling into our dress uniforms for the day?”

   “Come on, Pavel, we want to look our best. They'll be playing the videos of this ceremony for years. We need to put on a good show for the cameras. Incidentally, we'd better get going.” She stood, taking the lead as they walked from the office, out onto the bridge, a dozen technicians frantically working to prepare the ship for departure under the supervision of Foster, leaning over the helm with an exasperated look in her eye.

   “Troubles, Sub-Lieutenant?” Orlova asked.

   “Nothing we can't fix, ma'am. Spaceman Buckley assures me that this console will be working properly in twenty minutes.” Glaring down at the hapless crewman, she continued, “Isn't that right, Spaceman?”

   “Yes, ma'am,” he nervously replied.

   “I hope so,” Orlova said, stepping into the elevator. Here again the scars of battle lay, the carpet ripped and torn, smoke marks on the walls from the fire that had swept through Elevator Control at the height of the fighting. Salazar sighed, pulled out his datapad, and added yet another item to the maintenance checklist.

   “At this stage it'll be faster just to list the fully-functioning systems,” he said with a sigh. “As soon as this is over, I've got a hot date with an inspection team. We're hoping to get Astrogation up and running again, if we can fix the last three hull breaches.”

   “Better not tell Harper. Don't want her getting jealous.”

   Shaking his head with a smile, Salazar turned back to his work, and for a second, Orlova could see the angry young midshipman who had first reported on board, all those months ago, still trying to find his place in the world, trying to overcome the demons of his past. He'd matured into a fine officer, and for the first time in a long time, actually seemed comfortable with himself.

   The door slid open, and the two of them stepped out onto the hangar deck, the remnants of the senior staff waiting for them. Cooper walked over to meet them, Bradley by his side, still limping from the battle damage. Salazar's sleeve was still bulky, the bandage underneath concealing the latest addition to his roster of scars. Looking around at the crew, there seemed to be no one not nursing a war wound of some sort.

   “Sorry I'm late,” Harper said, racing in through the side entrance, tie in hand. “Anyone know how to get this damned thing in place?”

   “Sure,” Salazar said, moving behind her. “Hold still for a moment.”

   General Kelot and Colonel Kilquan were standing behind the combined Neander-Koltoc honor guard, taking the left side of the airlock. Lance-Sergeant Hunt was combining the Triplanetary contingent facing them, all of them resplendent in their dress uniforms. The flags were back in position, high on the wall, and Orlova looked up at the black-and-green of the Confederation, shaking her head. Soon they'd be home.

   With a loud report, the elevator airlock engaged, and the stubby Xandari shuttle rose to the deck, the honor guard standing to attention, all of them ready in the event of some last-minute trick. Scott had scanned the vessel thoroughly before allowing it to dock, but still an element of doubt crept into her mind. As the guard moved through its drill, the shuttle settled into position, hatch opening to reveal a trio of Xandari, stepping out as protocol demanded, each with an ornate ceremonial pistol at their belt.

   The Procurator walked towards Orlova, pulled out his pistol, and tossed it to the deck, one of the Espatiers ducking to retrieve it, almost certainly destined to become a prized souvenir of the war. With a curt nod, he stepped over to the table placed in po
sition at the heart of the room, as the assembled crews watched. Sitting on the table was a piece of paper, the printout of the provisional surrender document. Likely the politicians and bureaucrats would spend years agonizing over every comma, but for today, its signature would mark the effective end of hostilities.

   Picking up the pen, the Procurator said, “On behalf of the Xandari Empire, I sign this document, formally offering the unconditional surrender of my people.” With a flourish, his pen danced over the page, and Orlova stepped forward, her eyes locked on their erstwhile enemy, arrogant even in total defeat.

   Taking the pen, she scrawled her name, and said, “I sign this document on behalf of the Triplanetary Confederation, accepting the surrender of the Xandari Empire.”

   Next, General Kelot, adding his signature, saying, “I sign this document on behalf of the Free Peoples, accepting the surrender of the Xandari Empire.”

   Colonel Kilquan, a frown locked on his face, glared at the Procurator as he approached the table, then glanced at Orlova, as if still anticipating some manner of trick, even at the last, before finally taking the pen into his hand.

   “I sign this document on behalf of the Koltoc Commonwealth, accepting the surrender of the Xandari Empire.”

   One last figure stepped forward, Lieutenant Ryan, who picked up the pen with relish, and said, “I sign this document on behalf of the Republic of Copernicus, accepting the surrender of the Xandari Empire.”

   Salazar stepped forward, glanced down at the document, and added, “All warring powers now having made their signature upon this document, the peace treaty and ceasefire take effect as of this time, this date, with due allowance made for communication lag.” On instinct, he walked across to the Procurator and offered his hand, and after a quick glance, the Xandari leader took it, a handshake that was as much as anything else, marking the final end of the war.

   Without another word, the Procurator turned back to his shuttle, stepping aboard, this time with a detachment of Koltoc following, lead by Colonel Kilquan, the first contingent of observers and peacekeepers working to guarantee the ceasefire. The two Koltoc ships were remaining behind pending the arrival of reinforcements, a duty that Orlova did not envy.

   Turning to Salazar as the shuttle dropped back through the elevator airlock, Orlova said, “Lieutenant, instruct all hands to prepare for hendecaspace transit. Let's go home.”

  End Note

   Well, that's that. After nine books and more than a year and a half, the Xandari War story line which began with 'Aces High' is finally over, and in all honesty, it's something of a relief to be able to sign off on this one. I hadn't intended this one to stretch so long when I began, vaguely having five or six books in mind, but it ended up running and running, new characters and story lines fighting to get out. And yes, this was the ending I had mind right from the start, though I must confess that Pavel Salazar became a far more prominent character than I had originally expected when I first started writing about him.

   I knew going in that not all of the major characters would come through, and this book certainly did end up thinning the ranks somehow. Nelyubov was always intended to end up making the heroic sacrifice to save Orlova, but I must be honest, Quinn was something of a surprise even to me, though I think I gave him a pretty good sendoff. As for Powell, well, again, he served a goal needed to this plot, though if I'm going to be honest, I never managed to bring that character out as I had intended when I introduced him.

   So, what happens next, then? Believe it or not, there was a time when I had intended to bring Alamo to an end with this book, as recently as six months ago. Certainly I knew that I was going to be making some significant changes to the series, though one of the primary catalysts for change ended up being the 'Strike Commander' series of books I've just concluded – because there were some characters I created that I really want to do more with. (Principally, for those who have read 'Aggressor', Clarke and Blake. I think I made it pretty clear at the end of that book that it was the intention, but I didn't expressly state it.)

   Which means that as soon as this arc ends, another one begins, and one that looks from here as though it is going to be every bit as epic as this arc has been. At least, I certainly hope so. What I hoped to portray with this story line was something that I think is all too often lost in storytelling of this type, that the consequences of actions can play out, and that sometimes, the good guys lose. The ending of 'Operation Damocles', with the Xandari taking Alamo and driving the crew into exile, was something I very much wanted to do, not least because it threw all the characters out of their home environment, and gave both Harper and Salazar a real chance for significant character growth.

   I'll get back to that double-act in a moment, because I want to write a few words about Cooper and Bradley. For the 'Cabal Run' story line, Cooper really held the same role that Salazar did in this story line, and as this arc continued, I was finding that the story roles the two characters were playing were clashing somewhat, and that it was getting harder and harder to give them both good roles in a story. I made the decision about four books ago that neither of them were going to be remaining on the ship after this arc.

   The 'heroic death scene' was tempting, I must admit, and I could easily have written this book with that in mind – early drafts of the Koltoc run on the missile grid had that as a possible outcome – but I decided close to the beginning of the creative phase that the two of them had more than earned a happy ending. I put Cooper through hell for years, and I think he and his wife deserve a chance to settle down. Though I naturally won't rule out bringing them back in the future, either into the main Alamo plot or in a potential spin-off series of their own. Certainly there are enough possible loose ends I could play with; I left a few in deliberately to give me options if I decided to take that path later on.

   Captain Orlova was an early decision; I'd decided to phase Daniel Marshall out relatively early on, partly because I thought he was getting difficult to bring into the story realistically, and bringing her on as his protege was a natural outcome of the early stories in the series. Having said all that, I am intending to bring back Commodore Marshall as a major character, starting in the next book, but I won't go into that here.

   If I was to pick my two favorite characters, though (always a very difficult decision), I must confess that both Salazar and Harper take that role, and it will I suspect come as no surprise that my intention is for them to play a prominent role in the next story arc. Putting them together romantically was actually something of a spur-of-the-moment decision, though I'd been dropping hints for a while that there was something going on. I'm honestly not sure where I'm taking this arc in future books, though I have a few ideas.

   Fundamentally, both characters are easy to bring to the heart of whatever action the plot demands. To be fair, they'd probably work just as well in an 'Intelligence Agent' series as partners investigating conspiracies threatening the Confederation, which is actually something I had given serious consideration to when I was thinking of bringing the Alamo series to an end. With the series continuing, though, they will be staying on the ship – though there is a fifteen-month gap between this story and the next that I might fill with other works at some point in the future.

   As for what happens next? Well, Alamo will be going off on some adventures in deep space again, as I really think that it represents her natural habitat. Aside from a lot of old friends returning to the series, all I will promise for the moment is that you will be surprised by what happens next. I know I was when I dreamed it up!

  Thank you for reading 'Final Orbit'. For information on future releases, please join the Battlecruiser Alamo Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.

  The writer's blog is available at http://tinyurl.com/pjl96dj

  The saga returns in Battlecruiser Alamo: Into the Maelstrom, available in Januar
y 2017…

  And now, a taste of Strike Commander: Starfighter, Available Now...

  Starfighter Sample Chapter

   The clock ticked down the final hours to the end of the Interplanetary War. Lounging with an air of feigned nonchalance in the squadron ready room, the pilots of the 25th Squadron of the Martian Defense Force watched the screen, a dark-suited newscaster bringing them the latest news from the Armistice talks.

   Major Jack Conway, squadron commander and a six-year veteran, tried to ignore it, despite the rapt attention of his pilots. Out here at Proxima, there was a five-day time lag on communications. The peace treaty could have been signed by now, but until he had the word from the Combined Chiefs of Staff they were still at war. He glanced down at his datapad, flicking through the latest tactical reports. Everyone on both sides was watching and waiting, all across the system. Going through the motions.

   At the rear of the room, the door slid open, and his wife, Captain Kathryn Mallory, the squadron's Operations Officer, stepped in with a grim scowl on her face. The pilots looked at each other, knowing what was about to come, and dreading it. Who wanted to die on the last day of the war?

   “Well, Kat?” he asked, rising to his feet, taking a final swig of his coffee.

   She nodded, and said, “Orders from Brigadier Gordon.” Looking around the room, she added, “Squadron is to scramble in fifteen minutes. Strike op.”

   “Come on,” Captain Poole, one of his flight leaders, replied. “Not today. Not now.”

   “Orders are orders, Sarah,” Conway replied, turning to her. “Everyone get down to the launch bay and get yourselves kitted up. We've got a job to do.” Quick footsteps raced into the room, and his usual wingman, Lieutenant Dirk Xylander jogged in, his arm in a sling. “Don't get any ideas, pal. You aren't going.”