Battlecruiser Alamo: Malware Blues

by Richard Tongue

  MALWARE BLUES

  Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 16

  Richard Tongue

  Battlecruiser Alamo #16: Malware Blues

  Copyright © 2016 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: January 2016

  Cover By Keith Draws

  All characters and events portrayed within this ebook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Join the Battlecruiser Alamo Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/A9MdX

  With Thanks To: Ellen Clarke and Peter Long

  “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

  Robert Oppenheimer

  Chapter 1

   The view from Wyvern’s observation deck was nothing short of breathtaking. A shattered planet, flashes of brown and white, a thousand smaller pieces tumbling around each other in a frantic dance, swirling on seemingly random trajectories as gravity pulled them first one way, then another. Clouds of gas, debris too small to be made out individually, seemed to fill the void between the fragments, weaving complicated patterns that seemed the work of some demented artist, hurling his brush around the canvas of infinity.

   “This is what I signed up for,” Sub-Lieutenant Pavel Salazar said.

   Nodding, the green-haired Lieutenant Kristen Harper replied, “Bet you’re glad you agreed to come now.”

   He shrugged, and replied, “They needed a helmsman, and Alamo still had three weeks left on its refit. It was this or paperwork.”

   She looked across at him, and said, “Don’t you have a department to run?”

   “It can wait until we get back.” Glancing up at the clock, he added, “Only another three hours, and we’re on our way home.” With a frown, he said, “What do you think did it?”

   “I’m a hacker, Pavel. Not a geologist.”

   “It could have been two planets colliding, maybe some rogue wandering in from interstellar space.”

   “Billion to one.”

   “Then you think it was artificial. That someone did this?”

   With a sigh, Harper said, “I’m scared to think about it. Look at the timing, though. This is recent, only a few thousand years old. About when we know there was a war going on between the two branches of humanity. If they were throwing planet-crackers around…”

   “We couldn’t do this,” he said. “Not with the largest weapons we have.”

   “Yes, we could. If we wanted to. We could build a bomb that big, or a series of them, if there was some compelling need to wipe a world off the map.”

   “I don’t think I would want to be in a fleet that used weapons like that.”

   A speaker crackled, and the dour voice of Wyvern’s Operations Officer, Lieutenant Steven Riley, echoed around the room. “All hands to alert stations. Alpha Watch report to the bridge. Lieutenant Harper, report to the bridge.”

   “Looks like they’re singing our song,” Harper said.

   “Yeah,” Salazar replied, taking one last look at the view before swinging across to the elevator. As the door slid shut, he said, “Know what I think?”

   “What?”

   “This would be one hell of a tourist spot. Like Saturn’s Rings, all the hotels they built out at Titan in the 21st century. I’d put a station right here, slow orbit around that mess.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “Too dull for me, not for a five-day stretch.”

   With a smile, he said, “I’m sure we could find something interesting to do around here.”

   Gravity returned as the elevator dropped into the rotating section of the scoutship, and he carefully planted his feet on the deck, holding himself by the hand-holds. Wyvern was smaller than Alamo, less than a quarter the mass and length, but it was one of the latest ships in the fleet, full of the latest refinements and advancements, some of which even worked.

   The doors opened on the bridge, and he stepped out to see Wyvern’s commander, Senior Lieutenant Ryder, perched in her command chair, looking at the planet tumbling on the viewscreen. With a curt nod, the duty helmsman, a stubble-faced Sub-Lieutenant called Kline, stepped away from his console, Salazar sliding into position.

   “Target is still closing,” Lieutenant Steele reported from the tactical station. “Looks like a Mark Fourteen Fast Shuttle.”

   Salazar turned from his station, and said, “Alamo hasn’t even been issued with them yet. They were only certified a month ago,”

   “You seem well-informed, Sub-Lieutenant,” Ryder said.

   “I did a bit of work on them when I was at the Academy, sat in on a few of the final test-flights as a passenger. Those birds are fast, ma’am, and maneuverable. Better than some of the older fighters.”

   “Still no response to our hails,” the communications technician, Ortega, said. “They must be receiving us, but they don’t want to talk.”

   “Recommend interception course,” Steele said.

   “I disagree,” Riley replied. “Let them spend their fuel getting to us.”

   Frowning, Ryder said, “Sub-Lieutenant, plot an intercept course for best speed and engage when ready.”

   Nodding, he said, “Aye, ma’am,” and began to work. He agreed with Riley, and for a second thought about speaking up, but a quick glance at Ryder suggested that his intervention wouldn’t be welcome. He was a guest here, not one of the regular crew, and though superficially everything felt similar to Alamo, somehow the feel was different. Less inviting, less welcoming. He had the idea that someone was watching him, every second.

   Tapping a control, he said, “Guidance Control to crew. Stand by for acceleration in fifteen seconds.” Quickly finishing his work, he threw a switch, and the scoutship’s engines began to roar into life, throwing them on a trajectory to take them close to the approaching shuttlecraft.

   “Intercept in ninety-five seconds, ma’am,” he said.

   “Should we go to battle stations?” Riley asked.

   “Against a shuttlecraft?” Harper said.

   “Course change,” Trent, the duty sensor operator, said. “Shuttle is altering course to match speed with us. New intercept time is three minutes, ten seconds.”

   “Still no response to our hails?” Ryder asked.

   “Nothing, ma’am,” Ortega said. “I don’t understand it.”

   “Any progress on where they came from?”

   Trent, her fingers playing across her controls, said, “There’s too much mess in there for sensors to give us anything like a true picture. I can narrow it down a little, but not enough to be useful.”

   “Keep working on it.”

   “Ma’am, I recommend an evasive course. This could be a suicide strike,” Riley said.

   “I agree, ma’am,” Salazar added, earning an approving look from Riley and a frown from Ryder. “We’re doing what they want us to do at the moment.”

   “At the very least,” Riley added, “We ought to take a stronger defensive stance.”

   “Time to intercept?” Ryder asked.

   “Two minutes, twenty seconds.”

   “Very well. Steele, take us to battle stations. Salazar, I want a new course to take us back towards the hendecaspace point, and instruct the astrogation officer…”

   Interrupting, Steele said, “I don’t think so.” Somehow a pistol was in her hand, and she was pointing it at Ryder. Kline, stepping back out of the elevator, had a gun of his own, covering the room. “Salazar, maintain station keeping. We’re not going anywhere.”

   “What the hell are you doing?” Ryder asked.

   “My duty,” Steele replied. Salazar inch
ed his hands towards the controls, ready to send the ship spiraling off in a random direction, but a bullet cracked off the panel a few inches from his fingers, leaving an angry burn on the console.

   “Get away from the helm,” Kline said. “Right now, or the next one will go into your back.”

   He glanced across at Riley, and the two of them locked eyes for a second, both leaping from their positions at the same instant, Riley heading for Kline, Salazar trying to make it to Steele. A pair of bullets flew through the air as he collided with Steele, the two of them falling to the deck, her gun rattling away. Before he could do anything, before anyone could move to support them, the elevator door slid open, and another bullet slammed into the deck by his side.

   “Freeze,” the voice said. “That means you, Ryder. Get away from that gun.”

   Salazar rolled over onto his back, and saw the furious Ryder move back to her chair. She’d been within a few inches of the pistol before the reinforcements had arrived. Kline moved over to take the helm, pushing Riley out of the way, the officer moving back to the wall with a glare.

   “Shuttle will be docked in twenty seconds. We have control of the launch bay and the engine room.”

   “Good,” Steele said. “Ma’am, I’ll need your chair.”

   “You realize this is mutiny.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “You’ll understand in a moment. Then maybe we’ll be on the same side again.”

   “Damn it, we’ve known each other for years. I trusted you.” Ryder looked her square in the eyes, and said, “Never again.”

   Salazar looked at Harper, still standing implacably on the deck. She hadn’t made a move during the fighting, and she wasn’t doing anything now. He made his way over to her, the rest of the bridge crew being corralled together by the sensor station. The newcomers he didn’t recognize, and from the look on Ryder’s expression, neither could she.

   “This was planned all along, wasn’t it,” he said. “From before we even left Yeager Station.”

   “Long before, Sub-Lieutenant,” Steele said.

   “Shuttle docking now,” Kline said. “Initiating new course.”

   “Where are we going?” Ryder asked.

   “Right now, you don’t need to know,” Kline said.

   “You will treat her with respect, Sub-Lieutenant,” Steele said. “She is still a superior officer.”

   “Aye, ma’am,” Kline replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

   The elevator doors opened, and Ryder’s eyes widened as the gray-haired figure, wearing the uniform of a Commodore in the Triplanetary Fleet, stepped out onto the deck, flanked by a pair of other officers, both impeccably dressed.

   “Commodore Tramiel,” she said.

   “Senior Lieutenant Ryder,” he replied. “You run a tight ship. Infiltrating it was not an easy process, and for that you are to be commended. I see no reason why I will not retain you as her commanding officer.”

   “You’re wanted for treason,” Ryder said, bluntly. “Conspiracy, sedition, a dozen different crimes. Your rank was stripped from you, and you have no business wearing that uniform.”

   “I’m sorry you see it that way.” Tramiel looked around the deck, his eyes locking on Harper. “One of the architects of our defeat.” The hacker looked down at the ground, and he continued onto Salazar. “You, I think, will not have a place here.”

   A smile on his face, Salazar replied, “I’m glad to hear it.”

   “Insolent.” Shaking his head, Tramiel moved over to the front of the room, and said, “This is not quite what it seems. I am not here out of self-interest, for any personal aggrandizement. My goal is to save the Confederation from itself.” With a sigh, he said, “The recent elections produced a government that is incapable of protecting those we are sworn to defend, and hundreds of veterans were cast out of the military, fundamentally weakening it.”

   “You attempted a military takeover, the installation of a puppet President, and you tried to start a war!” Ryder roared.

   “Justified,” Tramiel said. “The Cabal represents the greatest threat the Confederation has ever faced, and needs to be countered before they can rearm. And now our mutual friend, Captain Marshall, has found a new foe to fight as well. We need a strong government, one willing to protect us, not a bunch of corrupt, weak politicians who will barter away the freedoms that we have fought and died for.”

   “What does that mean, exactly?” Harper asked, earning a glance of rebuke from Riley.

   “Our researchers have been working on cutting-edge technology, and have made some amazing discoveries.” Gesturing at the viewscreen, he continued, “Some of you will have wondered how this happened, and I can tell you that this planet was destroyed, the victim of a great war, thousands of years ago.”

   “And you are working on replicating the technology involved,” Salazar said. “Antimatter weapons are prohibited by the Treaty of…”

   “That is precisely what I mean!” Tramiel raged. “We need new weapons, better defenses. I want to make this ship a model for what the Confederation could be. We’re going to give the people what they want, what they need, and we have supporters back home who will help us.” Looking around the room, he said, “With your assistance, we can right the wrongs of the last election.”

   “Go to Hell,” Ryder said.

   “That goes for me,” Riley added. “As far as I’m concerned, you are a disgrace to the uniform.”

   Crossing his arms, Salazar said, “You don’t want me, anyway. I guess you’ll just have to shoot us.”

   The rest of the bridge crew looked around, but moved in behind the three officers, standing together in mutual defiance. Tramiel shook his head, staring at each in turn, before moving over to the command chair with a deep sigh.

   “A pity. I can use you, any good officers, to help save the Confederation from itself. If you will not assist me, then I must regretfully consign you to your fate.”

   “Wait a minute,” Harper said. “You’re working on new technology. That include programming?”

   “Naturally,” Tramiel said, frowning. “There are many areas where insufficient research has been undertaken. We’ve gathered some of the best equipment, and have made some major breakthroughs in understanding archeotech.”

   “Fine. I’m in.”

   “What?” Ryder said. “Harper, you can’t seriously be planning to join him.”

   Turning to face her, the hacker replied, “The Commodore is right, and we both know it. The government we fought to put into power has betrayed us, and they’re refusing to let technologies we need be released to the Fleet.” Looking at Salazar, she said, “We’ve seen strange things out there, things we don’t understand, and we know that they are hostile. There are enemies everywhere, and we’ve got to fight them any way we can.”

   For the briefest of moments, Salazar had thought that Harper was actually switching sides. Riley and Ryder still seemed convinced of it, and he struggled to rouse anger within himself, to make it seem as though he was as outraged as the rest of them.

   “Lieutenant,” he said, “We were friends. Not any more. That ends today.”

   Nodding, Harper said, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

   Tramiel frowned, then replied, “I know that man’s background. You don’t want someone like him as a friend.”

   Steele glanced at the Commodore, and said, “Are you sure you can trust her? She was one of the key figures in bringing you down, and she works for Triplanetary Intelligence.”

   “I don’t have to trust her to use her,” he replied. Looking at Harper, he added, “You understand that it will take you a long time to earn my full trust. That you will be watched, monitored.”

   “Do what you have to do, sir. Anyone can change their mind, though, can realize that they were wrong.” Looking at Salazar again, she said, “I made a mistake, and if I have to work to redeem it, t
hen that’s what I have to do.”

   “If you are so concerned about her, Lieutenant, I’ll appoint you her watchman,” Tramiel said. “For the present, take the helm. Kline, by now the rest of the crew should have been rounded up. I want the bridge crew removed first before I speak to the others. Without their former commanders looking over their shoulders, they might be more receptive.”

   Steele took the helm as Kline rose to his feet, his pistol pointed at them, saying, “Into the elevator.”

   The group silently did as they were bid, Ryder leading they way, her head held up in defiance. Riley, his fists balled, looked around the room as though he might make one more attempt at taking back the bridge, but at a glance from Ryder, he followed. As the doors slid shut, the last thing Salazar saw was Harper, moving to the communications station as Tramiel took the command chair, looking back with regret on her face before the elevator sped on its way.

  Chapter 2

   “How long has it been?” Riley asked, sitting next to Salazar in the shuttle.

   “Thirty minutes,” Ortega replied from the chair behind. “Long enough for him to have spoken to everyone.”

   “You think anyone will go along with it?” Trent asked.

   “They’d damn well better not,” Ryder said. “I’m still finding it hard to believe that Harper changed sides like that.”

   Shaking his head, Salazar said, “Sometimes people change. On Thule, she came damn close to throwing the mission to get hold of advanced archeotech. Maybe I should have seen this coming.”

   Glancing across at him, Riley replied, “We all should have seen it. That was fast work on the bridge, by the way. We damn near made it.”

   “Thanks,” Salazar said. “If we’d had a few more seconds.”

   “Or if Harper had made a move,” Ryder said.

   “Where do you think they are going to take us?” Ortega asked. “They must have a base somewhere in the system, but where?”