Battlecruiser Alamo: Malware Blues

by Richard Tongue

   Throwing his pistol away, Salazar snatched his knife and dived onto the nearest creature, slashing at one of the tentacles, trying to drag it away. He heard a cracking sound up ahead, a beast being brought down to the ground by a dozen crewmen attempting to pin it in position. As the creature he was fighting finished with its first victim, it turned to him, a maniacal glee in its eyes.

   He reached up with his knife, trying to stab the creature in the eye, but the blade was turned away by a tentacle, his weapon thrown from his hand. Its arms reached up, the razor-sharp claws dripping blood as they hacked down, but Ryder got in between them with a second to spare, sending all three of them tumbling away.

   Desperately, Salazar snatched at his knife, diving back towards the beast as it began to attack Ryder, stabbing into her side. Before it could respond, he had slashed it across the eye, then turned the blade to drive it in, blood spurting forth as it collapsed onto Ryder, her cries of agony echoing around the room.

   Another of the beasts had been killed, two other crewmen having given their lives for the cause, but the third looked triumphantly down, Howard’s body in its hands. Salazar looked around for his discarded pistol, and he and Lombardo fired at the same time, the creature tumbling back, dead.

   Suddenly, the dome was still and silent, just the gasps and cries of the wounded. He looked down at the macabre scene behind the useless barricade, at the dead and the dying sprawled on the ground, and looked around at the survivors of the battle.

   “I need the medics to start triage on the wounded,” he ordered, trying to fill the vacuum. “Others to get the bodies of these creatures out of the way, on the double. I need a weapons check.” Glancing around, he saw Lombardo, looking down at the body of the creature. “You’re a Petty Officer, right? I need a weapons and ammunition check.”

   “Aye,” he said, dazed. “Aye, I’ll get on it right away.”

   “How’s Ryder?” he asked, looking down at the medic.

   “Not good. Chest wound. There’s not much I can do about it down here. She needs proper medical attention within the next few hours.” Glancing at the other wounded, he added, “She’s one of the lucky ones. I don’t think most of the others will make it.”

   “Do the best you can with what you have,” he replied. “And sort out stretchers. We’re not going to stay here.” Looking around, he said, “This place isn’t defensible.”

   “You think there are more of them out there?” Fitzroy asked.

   “We’ve got to assume that.” He shook his head, and said, “Not to mention that something is helping them. Is everyone here?”

   “Yes,” Fitzroy replied, frowning. “What do you mean?”

   “The doors opened. And before, they were able to get down the shafts into the tunnels, but I don’t see how their hands could have worked the mechanism. That means that whatever system is controlling this complex has decided that it is going to help those bastards wipe us out.”

   “Traitors!” Ortega said, looking down at Trent’s body.

   “This isn’t us!” Fitzroy replied. “Our people have been down here for months, and they’ve never reported any sign of trouble until now. Don’t you think we’d have gone by now if we knew these creatures were here?”

   “What the hell was the plan, anyway?” Salazar asked. He tapped Tarrant’s body, and said, “He was saying something about a cut.”

   Fitzroy looked at Lombardo, and said, “We stole gray-tech from the Confederation archives. Top-secret projects. Commodore Tramiel wanted to use it to take on the Cabal, but Kline and Tarrant were against it.” He looked down at the ground, and said, “They convinced us that we could sell it back to the Confederation, in exchange for a pardon and some money. We’d be worth millions, they said.”

   “They’d sell them to the highest bidder,” Ortega said. “Whether or not it was the Confederation.”

   “We wouldn’t have stood for that,” Lombardo said.

   “Has it occurred to you that might be why you’ve been left down here?” Salazar replied. “Either because Kline thought that you might not be willing to accept the best offer, or to give him a bigger cut of the profits for himself?”

   “He wouldn’t do that,” Fitzroy insisted, but his expression was far less certain.

   “When was the last time you heard from Wyvern?”

   “Nine hours ago, at the last check-in.”

   “And the submarine on the surface, is anyone with that?”

   “I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe those creatures are up there as well.” He shook his head, and said, “We’ve got no way out of here, have we? We’re all going to die here.”

   “Cut that out, Spaceman,” Salazar said. “We’re not going to die down here. I’m not going to let that happen. Is the communications relay still working?”

   “It is.”

   “And Tarrant said that Alamo is in-system.”

   “The last message we had, Wyvern was planning to engage it in battle, to attempt to force it to surrender. We’ve heard nothing since. We don’t even know who won.”

   With a smile, Salazar said, “My guess based on that would be that Alamo did. Put me through to them.”

   “Wait a minute,” another crewman said. “We’re all wanted for treason, mutiny, and a hundred other offenses. All we get if we go home is life in prison.”

   “Maybe,” Salazar said. "Have you finished your check, Lombardo?”

   Nodding, he replied, “Twenty effectives, two walking wounded, five wounded who might be saved. Everyone has a pistol, and we have eighty-one rounds of ammunition.”

   “That’s your answer right there,” Salazar said, stepping over to the crewman. “What’s your name?”

   “Fox, sir. Spaceman Third. I was just out of training when this happened. I’ve got a kid I’ve never seen.” He looked up, eyes wide, and said, “They promised us amnesty, sir. Can you offer that?”

   “No,” he replied, bluntly. “All of you have committed serious offenses against the Confederation, and you’re going to have to face the consequences of those actions. I can’t make any promises to you, though if you agree to follow me, I will provide a character reference at your court-martial.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I’ll tell you this, though. None of you has committed a capital crime. If you stay here, you’ll face a death sentence as soon as the ammunition runs out.”

   Looking around at the group, he said, “I mean to get out of here, and I mean for us all to get away. We’re going to have to work together if that’s going to happen.” Looking at the young spaceman, he said, “I’ll get you home, Fox. One way or another.”

   Nodding, Lombardo said, “We’re ready to move out on your order, sir. I’ll organize stretcher bearers.”

   “Keep our best shots free,” he said.

   “I have Alamo for you, sir,” Fitzroy said. “Alamo Actual on the line.”

   Nodding, he took the headset, and began, “Salazar to Alamo. Come in, please.”

  Chapter 16

   Orlova sat back, looking out at the tumbling fragments of the planet spinning around each other, admiring the panoramic view from the observation deck. There was no-one else up here, the rest of the crew frantically working to get the ship ready for action, to face off against Wyvern in the inevitable second battle. Reaching down to her datapad, she played Salazar’s message again.

   “I have twenty-seven people, including seven wounded, in need of immediate evacuation from the planetoid. We can’t hold out for long, and suspect that the creatures are waiting for us up on the surface. Our supplies of ammunition are limited, and I have reason to believe that more of them will be attacking us soon.”

   “Hold on, Pavel,” her recorded voice replied. “Your message is received, and understood. We’ll do everything we can for you. Pass on details of your location, and we’ll start working out an evacuation plan. Orlova out.”

   
She clicked the playback off, looking out of the viewport once again. To get in, they’d have to send the shuttles past Wyvern. An unknown quantity at the moment. That would be easy compared to what they would face on the surface, and while plasma weapons would certainly make short work of them, it still meant more casualties.

   Then there was the escape. This time Wyvern would be waiting for them, and Alamo would have to go in again, facing those particle beams, the weapons that had come close to destroying the ship last time. It was risking more than a hundred lives to save less than thirty. Every instinct told her to go in, to launch the operation, but at the back of her mind was a voice screaming at her that it was a mistake, that she was only going to get more of her people killed, that they should leave the system and escape.

   The longer she thought about it, the more powerful that voice became, and she knew that it was only going to get worse. Salazar had called twenty minutes ago, and she had to make a decision. If the group on the planet had to be abandoned, Salazar would understand. In a way, that was the worst part of all.

   The door behind her opened, and someone stepped through, standing over her shoulder and looking out at the spectacular view beyond. She glanced back, and saw Powell standing there, a frown on his face, his eyes bright as he savored the display. He looked down at her and smiled.

   “Do you mind having some company?”

   “Not at all,” she said. “I should be on the bridge anyway.”

   “They can manage without you for a moment. Nelyubov and Grant are scurrying around issuing orders, everyone snapping to. Just like old times.” He paused, then said, “Everyone wants to know what you are going to do about Salazar.”

   “So do I.”

   “The general consensus is that we should go and rescue them. That we shouldn’t leave anyone behind, especially not to a fate such as that. I confess I am not so sure.” Looking at her, he added, “Neither are you, I know.”

   “If we go in, there’s no guarantee that we’ll get out again.”

   “You don’t have to make a decision for another thirty minutes. Our orbit won’t take us to optimal launch position until then, in any case. A luxury few in your position are accorded.” He paused, then said, “You’re considering leaving the system.”

   “It’s the safest option. We can evade Wyvern and make the jump in four days.”

   “By which time, everyone on the planet below will be dead.”

   “They might be anyway if we make the attempt. Getting the shuttles in and out of that debris would be tricky enough even without an enemy ship lying in wait for them. I’d have to commit Alamo in full support, and that means another battle.”

   “One that you are not certain we can win.”

   “Not by a long shot,” she said. “We were lucky, last time. The next time might be a very different story.”

   “And you don’t want to take the risk. You know that you’d have a ship full of volunteers if you asked.”

   She smiled, and said, “This crew would try a dive through a black hole if one of their shipmates was stuck on the other side of it. There is a time and a place to call for volunteers for a mission, and this is not one of them. I’ve got to try to take a step back, to look at the big picture, to weigh the risks.”

   Turning to her, he said, “You care about your crew. That’s the mark of a good commander.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “I’m just filling the chair. Only temporarily. I’m not even the Executive Officer, just the Operations Officer. If Captain Marshall was here, or Captain Cunningham for that matter, I’d be sitting down on the bridge right now wondering what was taking them so long.”

   “You’re trying to put yourself in their shoes. Trying to work out what they would do in your place.”

   She nodded, then said, “I just don’t know.”

   With a thin smile, he said, “Yes, you do. I saw you on the bridge, after the surprise attack, barking out orders, ideas flowing at a mile a minute. There was a job to do, and you did it. We got away. Your credit, as a commander.”

   “That was different.”

   “I don’t think so.” He paused, then said, “When I was thirty, I volunteered for the fleet. There was a war on, and I was a trained astrogator. They were needed. I spent ten years on this ship, one way or another, serving under four commanders. I went from being the most junior rank to a few weeks as second-in-command, during the Armistice Talks. Scariest time of my life, that I was a heartbeat away from having to make the big decisions.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “Twenty-five years ago. I was still in school.”

   “Now I feel old. On my first tour out here, I ended up leading a boarding party, stripping fuel and spares from a freighter. Normal battlecruiser tactics, back then. This was, I think, at Barnard’s Star. One of the crewmen decided to be a hero, managed to take over the communicators and took some of the party hostage. I was a doctoral student, had only been wearing the uniform for a few weeks. I didn’t have the first idea what to do.”

   “What happened?”

   “There was a Sergeant with us, wounded when the hostages were taken or I’d have just turned over command to him. He told me that every big problem was just a hundred little problems all in a row, and that if I trusted my instincts and my judgment, everything would work out fine. He was right. We managed to take the renegade down, got the fuel we needed, and were on our way.” He smiled, and said, “A boring story of a long-ago war, and one I didn’t need to tell you.”

   “What do you mean?” she replied, frowning.

   “You know it already. I’ve seen your record, talked to your crew. They have faith that you’ll make the right decision. When you have to act quickly, you trust your instincts. What’s different this time? What do your instincts say?”

   “We go and get them out. Regardless of the risk. A three-shuttle assault team, two of them stripped down for maximum passenger load, the other carrying an Espatier assault team, a single squad. I’d call for volunteers, but there wouldn’t be any point. The whole platoon will sign up for it. Cooper can make the call.”

   He shrugged, and said, “Sounds to me like you’ve made your decision, and you just need someone to tell you that it’s the right one.”

   She looked up at him, and said, “It’s a risk. A big one.”

   Nodding, he replied, “I wouldn’t take it in a million years. If I was in command of this ship, we’d be heading out into free space, on an escape and evasion course, ready to make a run for the hendecaspace point as soon as we could leave the system. That doesn’t matter, though. I’m not in command, and neither is Captain Marshall, Captain Cunningham, or Flight Commander Mechnikov, for that matter. You’ve got the hot seat, and you’re the one who makes the call.” He smiled, and said, “I trust that instinct. So does the crew.”

   The door opened again, and she replied, “There’s more to it than that. I wouldn’t have believed that Steele would turn traitor, but she’s working against us now. What if Salazar is luring into a trap?”

   “No way,” Grant said, walking through the door.

   “Lieutenant…”

   “I personally think that Sub-Lieutenant Salazar is a pitiful excuse for an officer, and that he has displayed a level of risk-taking that is totally unjustified, but he would not betray the ship, the crew, or the uniform he wears. I don’t know about Steele, I’ve never met her. Salazar you can count on. I’ll vouch for him that far.”

   Turning to him, she said, “I still haven’t decided whether to launch the mission.”

   “Yes, you have,” he replied, a smile crossing his face. “Your subconscious is marking time while Alamo moves into the right position in its orbit, but all of us in this room know that the mission is going to happen. Ensign Cooper is selecting his team now.” His face darkened, and he said, “I volunteer to command the shuttle flight.”

   “That’s Bradley’s
job,” Orlova said.

   “Maybe under normal circumstances, but the hangar deck is still under repair, and is going to need her personal supervision. We’re short on pilots in any case.” He looked down at her, and said, “Let me take it, ma’am.”

   She paused, nodded, and said, “Go and break the news. I’ll sign off on the mission.” Glancing up at the clock, she added, “Launch in twenty-five minutes. I’ll be heading down to the bridge in a few minutes. Have the senior staff standing by.”

   “Aye,” he said, leaving the room with a smile on his face. Orlova shook her head, watching him go.

   “Strange,” she said. “No, maybe it isn’t so strange.”

   “He’s right, you know,” Powell said. “You knew what your decision would be. All you were doing was trying to find ways to justify it to yourself.” He looked out at the view, and said, “Beautiful. This is what I’m out here for.” Pausing for a second, he said, “We’ll be seeing a lot more sights like this in the near future.”

   “You know something?”

   He shrugged, and said, “I probably shouldn’t be passing it on, I was told this in confidence, but Alamo is scheduled for a long-range exploratory mission in a couple of months. Specific details to follow. All of the business about those not-men of yours has stirred up a mess back home. There’s talk of a task force, but that’s all pointless if we don’t know where to send it.”

   “I figured as much,” she replied.

   “There was also talk of Captain Cunningham being reassigned.”

   “Not you, as well,” she said. “Frank Nelyubov was lecturing me about that.”

   “He strikes me as a sensible man, and you seem to wear command well enough.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “I haven’t got the experience for the job. I only turned thirty a fortnight ago.”

   “Congratulations.” He smiled, and added, “Have you read your own service record, lately? I don’t think you have anything to reproach yourself on in that area. Besides, it isn’t your decision. Captain Marshall will decide whether or not he wants you as his second-in-command.”