“We've picked up a hundred and nine, sir, but there could easily be others we haven't found yet. Brown dwarves would be hard to find without a longer base-line for detection.”
“More than a hundred stars to search. We'd be lucky to complete that survey in two years, and that assumes that we're fortunate enough to find it so close. Captain, if there is a lead on the surface, I don't believe that we have any alternative other than to exploit it, no matter what the risks.”
Rhodes nodded, and said, “My three remaining squads will happily volunteer, sir. All of us know what is at stake, and we're willing to take the chance.”
“How do we do it?” Marshall asked.
“Well,” Salazar replied, “We've got to evacuate the entire ground team. Except for Lieutenant Carpenter, certainly, and possibly Sub-Lieutenant Quesada. I'd suggest that they fly up on the shuttles we take down with the strike team.”
“Leaving you stranded on the surface,” Caine replied.
“It doesn't really make a difference,” Salazar said. “The shuttles are a lot safer on Alamo than they are exposed on the desert. We can't come home until Alamo can make another pass anyway, so does it matter where the shuttles are sitting? The strike plan is obvious. We'll need three shuttles to carry the platoon and its equipment. The team lands at the base, unloads, then returns to Alamo with the Pioneer survivors. We can have fighter escort all the way to the deck.”
“We can't operate that deep in a gravity well,” McCormack replied. “Not and have any chance of getting out again. I think you managed to prove that quite effectively, Lieutenant. More to the point, we don't dare risk our remaining fighters on a mission such as this.”
“Boosters,” Lombardo replied. “We've got them in storage. Solid fuel boosters, essentially a first stage for the fighters to give them the boost to reach atmosphere. We can fit them on the surface in less than ten minutes.” Looking at Marshall, he added, “I'll need a team.”
“Keep it small,” Salazar replied. “There are plenty of good engineers on the surface.”
“Then I'll go myself,” Lombardo said. “I can fly right-seat on one of the shuttles, and supervise the installation. Not a problem.” He paused, then added, “There'd be a side-bonus, as well, if we fit atmospheric missiles on the fighters. We could get in some good aerial strikes on the way down, give some support to our people on the surface. Especially if there's a chance that they're already under attack.”
Nodding, Rhodes added, “Be good to have some fire support, sir.”
“You're still missing the essential problem,” McCormack replied. “Waldheim has at least a hundred troops on board. A full company of UN Marshals. All trained in ground combat, all experienced soldiers. How are you going to cope with being outnumbered to that extent, Ensign? There could be four to one odds against you.”
“We're used to it, ma'am.” He glanced at Salazar, and added, “I think Pavel and I both have some ideas on this. Just put us down on the surface, and we'll do the rest. You can count on that.”
“Who goes, then?” Marshall asked.
“Don't get the idea I'm being left behind on this mission,” Harper said. “I can do more good on the surface than I can up here, and it won't be the first time that I've crawled through alien ruins.”
Folding her arms, McCormack replied, “I should command the mission.”
Francis shook his head, and said, “I think Lieutenant Salazar is a more logical choice. He's got both ground forces and space combat experience. I'd recommend Ensign Rhodes for the ground contingent, Lieutenant Murphy for the fighter wing, as well. We'd better keep the team as light as possible. Sub-Lieutenant Lombardo has to go, but aside from him, just one pilot for each shuttle.”
“I can fly a shuttle,” Lombardo said.
“And on the way home, you'll have to,” Salazar said. “There are a couple of pilots down there, but we can't necessarily count on them. If the base is under attack, then we don't know what casualties they've sustained. The last thing we need is to have a shuttle stranded on the surface.”
“We could contact the base,” Imoto suggested. “Find out the tactical situation.”
Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “And if the UN ground forces haven't found them, Midshipman, we'd be giving their location away in a second.” Turning to the sensor display, he added, “We still don't have anything like the resolution required to get good shots of the surface, but we might do a little better during the flyby.”
Caine frowned, then added, “We could abort at any time, if we had to. If it looked like the situation down there was impossible, I suppose the shuttles could just make a full burn and return to Alamo. The fighters as well, as long as they stayed about ninety thousand feet. We'd only be committed when they entered the planetary stratosphere.”
“Captain,” McCormack said, “I must once more protest against this proposed course of action. We're risking the loss of the remains of our Espatier force and half of our fighter wing for a mission of extreme risk and limited reward. With all respect to Lieutenant Carpenter, all we're fighting for are a collection of alien ruins. And Salazar, you said yourself that you thought that Waldheim's team had found a second site.”
“Which we will have to capture, potentially,” Foster said.
Rolling her eyes, McCormack replied, “Any strategic planning team would tell you that this so-called mission doesn't pass the laugh test. I propose that we launch a rescue mission, shuttles only, and gather as much intelligence as we can from the survivors. Maybe, once the situation becomes more favorable, we can retake the surface. Waldheim won't be there forever, but those ruins have been there for thousands of years. They'll still be there in a week.”
“Will they?” Harper asked. “If I was commanding that force, I'd plant nuclear charges at any critical site, and destroy all evidence behind me. You can bet that Colonel Cruz will be doing just that. It's not impossible that she already has them prepared. Or an orbital strike on their way out, along similar lines.”
“Scorched Earth,” Salazar replied with a nod. “I'm not saying that this mission isn't risky as hell, Captain, and under normal circumstances I wouldn't recommend it, but I don't think we have much of a choice. Either that, or we have to trust to luck that we can find some other way home, some clue somewhere else in the system, or in one of the neighboring stars.” Turning to Ballard, he asked, “A hundred and nine, I think you said, Spaceman.”
“And if you take it to thirty light-years, sir, you can quadruple that number.”
“Looking for a needle in a celestial haystack,” Francis replied. “Sir, we've got to take the chance. Risk or no, we can't just sit back and watch while Waldheim destroys our way home.”
“There's another factor,” Caine said. “We've got a window for a launch to Pioneer in the next hour. After that, we won't be able to send anyone for more than a day, not without near-certain intercept by Waldheim's fighters. We don't know what the situation is on the surface, or even if there are any survivors, but we can assume that the situation is grave, and that they might be in dire need of assistance. We can't do both missions, sir.”
Taking a deep breath, Marshall turned to Rhodes, and asked, “Can you pull this mission off, Ensign? No bravado, no optimistic assessments. Do you have a realistic chance of completing this mission as outlined by Lieutenant Salazar?”
“We do, sir. This is the sort of operation we've trained for. All of my team have had extensive ground forces training, and we've got much better equipment than we did during the Xandari War. I'm confident that we'll be able to show Waldheim's force a few surprises.”
“Then I will approve the mission,” Marshall said, while McCormack shook her head, scowling. “Pavel, you have command. It's your idea. Harper can fly right seat, and you might as well take a paramedic with you as well. Keep the teams as light as you can, and remember to follow the time-line.” He paused,
then said, “Don't push the odds too hard. If it looks as though everything is falling apart, then I expect you to abort the mission and return to Alamo. We'll find another way home if we have to.”
“I understand, sir,” Salazar replied. “Don't worry. We'll make it work.”
“I hope so,” Marshall said. “You'd better get down to the hangar deck, get everything moving down there. Midshipman?”
“Sir?”
“Execute the course change indicated by Lieutenant Foster.”
“You realize that Waldheim will be able to respond,” Caine said. “They'll undoubtedly change their course to match ours. We could be back into a firefight in a matter of moments, with half our fighter force unavailable.”
With a smile, Marshall replied, “Then we'll just have to think of a few good ways to keep them busy, Deadeye. Good luck, Pavel. And good hunting.”
Chapter 8
“Can we at least get some sort of damage report?” Clarke asked, watching as the engineering monitor flickered on and off. “Some sort of status check?”
“What exactly do you expect to find?” Hooke replied. “Pioneer is a broken-down hulk, and nothing's working anywhere. No communications, no defense systems.”
Conner glided onto the bridge, taking careful steps in the ultra-low gravity, and replied, “All hull breaches sealed, I think, though there are probably a thousand micro-fractures scattered across the ship. We can't take any more hits, sir. Not even an indirect one. It would finish us for sure.” Looking at Hooke, she added, “I've got a team working on distributing the spacesuits, sir, and refitting the rescue balls. Until further notice, I'd recommend that we all keep them close at hand at all times. Especially if there is any danger of battle.”
“Sensors, life support?” Clarke asked.
“Life support is fine, but on emergency battery power, I'd say we have maybe seventy hours before we start running into serious problems. If you're planning on staying here for a while, we might be able to improvise something, maybe rig a solar array, but without fabricators, that's going to be tricky. I think we can strip them from some of the probes, but...”
“Probes?” Blake asked. “How many have we got?”
“Three, ready to go,” Hooke replied. “I had them rigged as emergency beacons, in case someone I actually liked came into the system. Didn't have a chance to fire them off when Alamo arrived.” His face reddened, and he added, “I was asleep.”
“Asleep?” Petrova said, shaking her head.
“Damn it, one man can't manage a twenty-four hour watch, and I've been overdosing on stimulants as it is!” the hacker barked. “I'd like to see you do as much with as little, kid.”
“Easy,” Blake said. “Maybe we need to do a full check of the ship. We'd barely started our survey when the attack began.” She paused, then added, “What about the hangar decks?”
“Everything in there was wrecked in the landing,” Hooke replied. “All smashed to pieces. I salvaged a few rescue packs, but that's about all. Dammit, you can't even get at it from inside the ship at the moment. Lateral corridor has a couple of hundred breaches.”
“Is there life support in there?” Clarke asked.
“Residual backup, maybe,” Conner replied. “We could probably link it back up again, sir, assuming the connections are intact. Though that would significantly drain our energy reserves.” She paused, smiled, then said, “You're thinking we might be able to salvage something from the shuttles, extend our stay time down here a bit.”
“A reactor, life support system,” Blake said, nodding in approval. “Even if those components are damaged, it might be possible to patch something together. It's better than just sitting around and waiting for our reserves to run down.”
“Alamo will launch a rescue mission,” Petrova pressed. “All of this is a waste of time. We should continue as planned, complete our objectives, and stand by for recovery.”
“And if they can't?” Clarke asked. “We know they were in a firefight, and we haven't got any way of knowing how much damage they took. It could be hours, or days before they are in a position to effect a rescue. We've got to assume that we're here for a while, and do everything we can to see to our own salvation.”
“You can't seriously be thinking that we could get away from this moon by ourselves.”
“The gravity's light enough that we might be able to manage it with suit thrusters,” Boyd volunteered. “Maybe we could throw something together, given enough time.”
“Our orders were to strip the ship for salvage, and prepare to transfer the materials to Alamo,” Petrova said. “The rescue shuttles could already be on the way, and Alamo might be in need of these components, especially if they've suffered damage.”
“I've made my decision,” Clarke said. “Conner, cease all salvage operations for the present, and start work on repairing the critical systems of the ship. Cannibalize everything you can, and try and buy us some more time. As much as you can.”
“Aye, sir,” she said.
“Hooke, you want to show me this hangar deck of yours?”
“If you want,” he replied. “Though I don't think it will do you any good.”
“Petrova, I want you to stay here and monitor the sensors. Let me know instantly if you see anything unusual, anything at all. If you see enemy fighters heading this way, we'll have to evacuate the ship.” He paused, then turned back to Conner, and said, “Set up some supply caches on the surface, at a safe distance from the ship. Medical supplies, food, oxygen. And enough equipment to patch up part of Pioneer if we have to.”
“What should I do with the other hand, sir?”
With a smile, Clarke replied, “I'll leave that to your imagination, Spaceman.” Turning to the blast door, he stepped out into the corridor, frowning at what he saw. If anything, it was worse than it had been ten minutes ago, worrying cracks along the ceiling panels, debris scattered on the floor, dust still settling in the air. He could detect a faint tang of ozone in the background, the sign of something seriously wrong with the life support systems. Potentially even an electrical fire. Heading towards him was a grinning Fox, hefting a rifle in her arms, followed by two of her squad, one of them with a bandage wrapped around his arm.
“I thought we didn't have any casualties,” Blake said. “Let me take a look at that, Trooper.”
“Just a bit of shrapnel,” the man replied. “Small puncture, and it broke the skin. Hurts, but I feel fine. Managed to patch the suit, as well, so it's still operational.”
“Mild burns,” Blake replied, pulling back the bandage, “as well as a pretty deep cut. I'd like to take a better look at this, Private.” Glancing across at Fox, she asked, “Any more surprises for me out there?”
“That's all,” Fox replied. “Didn't even know about this until we came aboard. Sir, I've taken a preliminary look at the wreck of the shuttle, and I can't find anything worth recovering. Just scrap metal. Even the emergency beacon is gone.”
“I didn't really expect you to find anything, Sergeant. Recommendations?”
“Given that we're stuck here for a while, I think we need to establish a defensible perimeter.”
“Why?” Blake asked. “They know there isn't anything here worth taking, and they've already removed our only means of getting out of here. As far as they are concerned, either we're a distraction for Alamo, something to divert their attention from the rest of the system, or something to be dealt with at leisure as soon as they've secured the system. Either way, they won't be coming back.”
“We can't be sure of that.” Gesturing at a hatch, the veteran continued, “There are a dozen plasma carbines back there, and fittings to set up an automatic defense network. I can rig them to blow away anything that dares to come near, but we need to start work on that right now.”
Shaking his head, Hooke replied, “We don't have the power to spare. You know
how much energy one of those plasma bolts uses? As it is, we're going to start breathing fumes in less than three days unless we can think of something.” With a shrug, he added, “We might want to think about draining the power packs back into the batteries. Might buy us a few hours more.”
“And what do you intend to do with those hours?” Fox pressed. “We're in a hostile situation, with enemy forces closing in all around us, and you want to strip us of our only means of defense? We might as well surrender now and get it over with, if that's your plan.”
“Set up the perimeter, Sergeant,” Clarke said, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind. “Though I want your hacker to help with the ship's systems. And anyone else in your team with any engineering experience at all. There's no point setting up a defensive perimeter when we don't have anything to defend.”
“Very good, sir,” Fox replied. “I'll see to it right away.” As the trooper walked back towards the armory, Blake walked up to Clarke, a wry smile on her face.
“What is it?” she asked.
“What?”
“The crazy idea you're coming up with.”
“What makes you think I have one?”
“This isn't the first time we've been in a tough situation together, and insane plans do seem to be your specialty.”
“Let's just take a look at the hangar bay, shall we?” he replied. “Then we can discuss my insanity when it's more fully formed.” He stepped into the airlock, pulling on a suit from the locker, an eye on the amber warning lights over the door seal. More damage, here, at the last airlock that accessed the inhabitable areas of the ship. For a second, he reached for his communicator, ready to contact Conner, but there was nobody free to work on it anyway. And amber only meant that it might fail, not that it would fail.
When the three of them had completed suiting up, they stepped out onto the surface, and Clarke got his first look at the remnants of their landing site, a new crater a hundred meters wide where two shuttles had so recently stood. If anything, Fox had understated the devastation caused by the missile impact, and it was a miracle that there was any recognizable wreckage at all.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Vault of Eternity Page 8