Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor

by Richard Tongue

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “I don’t want the bastard to be feeling comfortable. I want him to feel as if he is being hunted, preferably by me on my own. If he’s coming after me, then he isn’t doing anything to Alamo.”

   Orlowski’s eyes widened, “You’re taking the bullet on yourself.”

   “We’ve got a lot of battles coming up, and the last thing we need is someone sabotaging the ship in the middle of a firefight. This has got to be resolved, as soon as possible.” He gestured towards the exit with his head, “Still plenty of time for you to get back to the barracks.”

   “If you think this needs doing, then we’ll do it. Duggan and Duvalier are out ‘looking’ for you now, down in the sensor decks, so you’d better stay clear of that area. We worked out the search pattern between ourselves.”

   “I’m glad none of you think I’m the saboteur.” Cooper frowned, then continued, “Or am I to be permanently chaperoned by one of you because you think there is a chance I just might be.”

   Glancing to the side, Orlowski said, “Let’s not put it that way.”

   Raising a hand, Cooper said, “I’d do exactly the same in your place, and I can use the help.”

   “What are we going to do?”

   “Sneak up to the officer’s deck and break into Lane’s cabin.”

   “You’ve got to be out of your mind! That’s three doors down from the scene of a murder investigation.”

   “And if there was a full platoon on guard, someone would be constantly guarding it, but I’m guessing that Major Diego is relying on automatic sensors.”

   “Good guess.” Orlowski shrugged, “That guy really is going through the motions. Duggan’s having to handle most of the admin.”

   “I bet he’s loving every moment of it. Come on, let’s get on with this. A quick hit and run raid is just what I need to get the adrenaline flowing.” He stood up, shaking his legs to work out the cramps, and walked over to the nearest maintenance hatch.

   “Can’t we play some handball instead?” Orlowski said, following him.

   The two of them scrambled around the outer levels of the ship, moving around the maintenance shafts in a semi-random course that took them generally forward in the direction of officer’s country. Scrambling up ladders and access-ways rapidly took a toll on Cooper’s arm, and after a few moments he paused, panting for breath. Orlowski glanced towards a corridor access, but Cooper shook his head.

   “We can’t risk it.”

   “I hate to break it to you, but this is a big ship and these accessways twist all over the place. We’ll be lucky if we manage to get there in less than two miles, and I don’t think your arm’s going to manage half that. Do you want me to go?”

   “No, I’ve got to do the breaking and entering.”

   “Don’t you trust me?”

   “There’s no point us both being brought up on charges. I need you to create a distraction.”

   Cracking the door seal, Orlowski said, “We’re going to risk the elevators. If the internal systems were going to get you, by now you’d be in custody.”

   Looking at the passage, Cooper nodded, carefully following his friend into the corridor. He raced towards the elevator in two dozen quick, light steps, glancing from side to side as if waiting for someone to ambush him. He tapped the control button with his finger, and waited impatiently for it to arrive. Behind him, he could hear voices, and Orlowski’s face flashed with panic. The Captain might be able to stop him from being picked up by the ship, but if some of the crew caught him there was nothing he could do. Finally, the door opened, and he and Orlowski leapt inside, slamming the priority button to send it speeding through the shafts.

   “Next time,” Cooper said, shaking his head, “We’ll go the long way.”

   “I can’t help having an impatient streak,” his friend replied. “Where are we going?”

   “Access station three levels down. Goes right into the life support control systems.”

   “That’s a bit of a tight fit, isn’t it?”

   “Best we can do, but it also doesn’t have any surveillance.”

   “None at all?”

   “Don’t ask me why. I found a hammock and some bits and pieces of junk in there once.  Maybe Alamo had a stowaway at some point.”

   Shaking his head, Orlowski replied, “This can be a crazy ship at times.”

   “At times?”

   Climbing into the shaft, Cooper still suppressing the occasional wince, they scaled the ladders to the topmost deck, passing the improvised sleeping area and into a disused section, dust and debris covering the floor. A squeak echoed down the corridor, and Orlowski drew his pistol in a smooth motion, pointing it into the gloom.

   “Relax, it’s just a rat. Quite a few of them down in the cargo levels.”

   “I thought we were supposed to get rid of them.”

   “We are, but I think the maintenance schedule is running behind. They won’t do any harm – but if you fire that thing off in here, the whole game will be up.”

   “What’s the plan now.”

   “You go first, tell me when the coast is clear, then keep lookout when I get to Lane’s quarters. If we get caught, you can capture me and I can get away when we’re on our own again.”

   “Why do I get the feeling that your plan would lead to me being on the deck with some new bruises?”

   Shrugging, Cooper replied, “Got to make it look convincing, don’t I? Go on.”

   With a glance at his friend, Orlowski ducked out of the shaft into the corridor, quickly disappearing from view. Cooper hung in the threshold, waiting to either emerge and begin work or prepare for a quick getaway, but he heard nothing. He counted to a hundred in his head, and was about ready to slink away when the hatch opened again, Orlowski’s head popping through.

   “All clear.”

   Taking a deep breath, Cooper said, “Right. You get moving.”

   Frowning, Orlowski asked, “What if she’s in the room?”

   “Right now she’ll be up on the bridge terrorizing Gamma Watch.”

   “Are you sure of that?”

   “Look, let’s get on with this.”

   Shaking his head, Orlowski headed away down the corridor, doing his unconvincing best to look nonchalant, and disappeared around a corner. Taking that as his cue, Cooper climbed out onto the deck and walked over to Lane’s quarters, his intrusion kit already in his hand. Hours of practice in the cargo bay began to pay off; he connected the terminals and ran through the unlocking cycle, quickly rewarded with a frustratingly loud clink as the door slid open.

   So far so good, and no sign of anyone inside. A typical senior officer’s quarters, spectacularly neat, most of the shelves bare; her possessions seemed to amount to a few holographs, all old, a selection of medals in a neat black case, and some notebooks filled with scrawl. He flicked through the pages of one of them and smiled. Drafts of love letters, written to someone named John, all of them dated a decade ago, and by the looks of them, none of them ever sent.

   Rummaging through her personal possessions was not why he was there. There was no smoking gun on her desk, just a pair of datapads. He was amused to find that she was going over his record, complete with its recent additions; none of the other files on the pad seemed to be interesting. Lots of technical manuals, descriptions of Alamo’s key systems, but that could easily be an officer attempting to catch up on ten years of technological change, rather than someone looking for weak spots.

   Somehow, he’d hoped to find something more than that. He reached around under her desk and found something underneath it, a long, thin shape; tugging at it, a pistol came out in his hand. Pulling out the magazine, he ran an RFID reader over it, and was unsurprised to find his name listed as the owner of the bullets. Nodding, he made sure the data and location had been recorded, then replaced the pistol in position, being careful to leave noth
ing out of place.

   He ducked down under the bed, looking around; nothing except a very worn carryall, marked for Hercules, the pockets all open and empty. Shaking the dust off, he turned to the door, only to see the figure of Major Diego standing at the threshold, his hand on his pistol. He looked at Cooper as though seeing through him, then nodded.

   “I’d better tell maintenance that there is something wrong with this door. The locking mechanism seems to have opened by itself.” Tapping a sequence onto the datapad, he turned and walked off down the corridor, leaving Cooper standing in the cabin, his eyes following the Major from the room. It was impossible he hadn’t seen him; obviously at least someone was on his side.

   Orlowski raced down the corridor, staring after the Major. “What the hell happened there?”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “I didn’t know my guardian angel was a Lieutenant-Major, but I’m not going to question it.” Glancing back at the room, he continued, “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before someone else turns up.”

  Chapter 16

   Gently, Orlova nestled the shuttle into its cradle, bracing herself for the lurch as the elevator airlock pulled it inside Hercules. Sitting to her left was the fascinated Vargon, clutching a wooden box containing ancient data crystals, or the Neander’s version of them. His eyes were fixed on the brilliant array of stars, moving from group to group as though he was attempting to count them all.

   “Astonishing,” he said. “I knew they were there, could see them in my mind, but to experience this in person is a dream I never believed I could fill in my lifetime.” Turning to Orlova, he continued, “My gratitude is boundless, Sub-Lieutenant.”

   Peering over her shoulder, Durman said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but Hercules looks like a piece of junk.”

   “She’s been through a lot lately,” she replied, “but she’s got it where it counts.”

   With a series of clunks and groans, the mechanism completed its task and the shuttle settled down on the deck. Flicking a series of switches, Orlova pushed out of her couch and drifted over to the airlock, tapping the overrides to open both doors at once. Waiting on the deck was a very relieved-looking Carpenter, a datapad in hand.

   “Don’t ever do that again, Maggie,” she said, shaking her head.

   Raising a hand, she replied, “I resume command. To make it nice and official.” Waving out the others, she said, “Allow me to introduce Mr. Durman, late of the Crashlander Starport, now seeking political asylum…”

   “Kidnapping, asylum, what’s the difference,” he said as he drifted out onto the deck. “I guess I can make myself useful with your engineering teams. There certainly seems to be enough work to do around here.”

   “Sergeant Wilson is down in Communications. Apparently he thinks he can get the bandwidth to something slightly better than pitiful.”

   “Anything will be an improvement at this point,” Orlova said. As Vargon pushed out to Carpenter’s widening eyes, she continued, “This is Vargon, Watcher of Stars of the inhabitants of the planet below.”

   “We call it Driftwind,” the Neander said as he pushed out onto the deck, clutching hold of the airlock as though worried he would float away.

   Pushing forward, Carpenter said, “This is an amazing privilege, sir. I’ll be wanting to spend a lot of time with you while you are on board.”

   “Sub-Lieutenant Carpenter is a paleontologist, studying the ancient history of Earth, with an emphasis on your people,” Orlova said. “Though naturally, until arriving at this planet she has never met one face to face.”

   Nodding, Vargon said, “I would be interested in trading information with you. There is little information available on the ultimate fate of our people after we were rescued from Earth.”

   “Rescued?”

   “It’s a long story, Sub-Lieutenant, and there will be much time for it later.”

   Interrupting, Orlova said, “What’s the status of the scoutship?”

   “The Dumont? She’s docked at the far side of the station, and her crews seem to be keeping themselves to themselves; I sent a few people into the cargo areas and they only saw station personnel. From what we can see, they’re just going through general maintenance.”

   “And if Price hadn’t told us that military ships don’t use this facility, I’d accept this as normal. There’s something going on.”

   Tossing a datapad to Orlova, she said, “I had Nelyubov come up with a plan to destroy the scout. Essentially, we need to plant warheads on the hull in a series of key locations, disguised as dock workers.”

   Flicking through the report, she replied, “This is ingenious.”

   “Frank did most of the work.”

   “I’ll have to leave you in command more often.”

   “Please don’t. I had to duck into your office every quarter hour for a panic attack.”

   With a smile, she replied, “What do you think it’s for?” Glancing at Durman, she said, “You might as well…”

   “Get lost while the adults talk? Sure, I’ll go and find that Sergeant Wilson.”

   After he drifted off into the corridors, Orlova said, “Everyone on the bridge?”

   “All the officers.”

   “Let’s get there, then.”

   The trio drifted into the elevator, Vargon still looking around in wonder at everything, running his shaggy hands over the walls and controls, smiling as he pushed around in the zero-gravity. Orlova had been concerned about spacesickness, but he’d gone through the shuttle flight profile without a quiver.

   After a few moments, the elevator stopped at the bridge, the doors sliding open and releasing Orlova out onto the deck, the others following. Curry rose from the command chair and turned around in a pirouette; Nelyubov remained at his station, engrossed in his work, and Race floated in the corner, fascinated at the new arrival.

   “Welcome back, Maggie,” she said. “That was a hell of a risk you took.”

   “Turned out to have a hell of a payout. Race, have you had a chance to conduct your preliminary investigations?”

   “Don’t you want to go into the office?”

   “What’s the point?” she shrugged. “We’d struggle to all fit in there anyway, and I don’t think we have any secrets from Sergeant Mathis or Corporal Ballard.”

   “It’s fine, ma’am, I’m deaf,” Mathis said with a smile.

   Tapping a button, a holoprojector flashed on, flickering a few times before resolving into a chart of local space. Race tapped another control, and a long, twisting path between the stars appeared, running in a huge circle around the outskirts of the few dots of Triplanetary blue.

   “Our original course as I plotted it; nine jumps, and that’s being optimistic. With refueling stops, we might get home in four months, but that would mean pushing through the heart of Cabal territory.”

   “Which means we probably wouldn’t get home at all,” Mathis said.

   “I thought you were deaf, Sergeant,” Carpenter said.

   “Now, with this new information,” Race said, working controls, “we have a new path home. Five jumps, with one refueling stop, and through completely untouched territory.” Another line, much shorter, leapt directly towards Spitfire Station, bouncing off invisible points of light. “The caveat is that while I’ve been able to verify the existence of the stars, our sensors haven’t got anything like the resolution needed to determine if there are any planets.”

   “I can help you there,” Vargon said, holding up the box. “These records date back to our final interstellar flights, and are the records of our orbital observatory before its destruction. I think you will find that they provide you with everything you need.”

   “How are we supposed to read data that was recorded ten thousand years ago?” Curry said.

   “The Cabal has already done this work for you,” Vargon said. “They adapted our recordi
ng technology for their own purposes, among other things.”

   Race shook his head, “A data recording medium that lasts for ten thousand years. Unbelievable.”

   “You can believe it, Lieutenant,” Orlova said. “You’re the astrogator; is using this path home feasible?”

   “Well, it’s going to be a lot of work, but definitely. A little slower than normal jumps because we’ll have to take a lot of gravimetric measurements at each star, but we’ve got all the equipment we need for the job.”

   “That, and we don’t have an enemy fleet on our tail,” Nelyubov said. “I vote that we proceed.”

   “I want to break orbit as soon as possible,” Orlova said, moving over to the command chair. “We’ll tell Price that our intentions are to try for the bottleneck, and just head out into unknown territory instead. I want priority work on the sensors; we might as well get some data out of this.”

   “What about the Dumont?” Nelyubov said.

   “I think we can leave it alone unless it does anything to us. We can leave in, what…”

   “Fifty-one hours,” Curry said.

   “Thanks, I lost track of time down there.”

   “Maggie,” Carpenter said, “I’d like to go down to the surface.”

   “This isn’t a field trip,” Nelyubov said.

   “You’ll have to take Vargon back down anyway, so…”

   “Actually, that will not be necessary,” he said. “I have been selected to represent the case of my people to your Triplanetary Senate. It is hoped that you may be able to assist each other in the future, particularly if war with the Cabal is coming. This planet could become a battlefield.”

   Turning to his console, Mathis said, “Perimeter alert!”

   Pushing across the room to lean over his shoulder, Orlova said, “Where and what?”

   “Small, I think a spacesuit. Coming in towards the bridge airlock.”

   “Here?”

   “Definitely a Cabal suit, ma’am. I can see that much.”