Battlecruiser Alamo: Depth Charge (Lost Adventures of the Battlecruiser Alamo Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

   “Of course.”

   “Alamo will buy its fuel from you, at a quarter above current market rates, in exchange for some information. As well as our other supplies, but you'll have to speak to our Supply Chief for the details.”

   “Information?”

   “I want a complete list of everything that Kolchak has transshipped through this station.”

   “Then you don't know what they are up to, either?”

   “Would I be playing this game if we did?”

   With a shrug, he said, “That information is highly valuable. I presume you realize that. And we are a lot closer to the United Nations than we are to the Triplanetary Confederation, at least at present. Such an action might have consequences that I would find most damaging to my business.”

   “We'll protect you, if it comes to it,” Cooper said.

   “Noble sentiments, sir, but I venture ultimately useless. I have a life here, you see, and a well-established web of clients and contacts that would be worthless were I to leave. Whilst I will happily supply your ship, you understand that I am in no position to provide you with voluntary access to the information in my files. It just wouldn't be good for business.” Rising to his feet, he said, “I need to use the restroom. Please feel free to entertain yourselves for a few moments.”

   Diego climbed to his feet, then slouched off through a hidden door in the rear of the room. Before it had properly closed, Harper raced to his terminal, stabbing a datarod into position, running an intrusion sequence to rip his files from their resting place, trackers seeking out anything that might be related to Kolchak.

   “What the hell?” Herb said.

   “You take opportunities where you can get them,” Cooper replied. “This one was handed to us on a plate. Make sure you make a nice big mess, Kris.”

   “Way ahead of you,” the hacker replied, slamming into his database like a raging bull. Normally, she was careful, cautious and precise, taking her time to winnow out the information she wanted, without leaving any track or trace. This time she was littering clues into the database, that a Triplanetary hacker had been this way, throwing in a few Republic programs to at least provide a show of cover. She looked up at the door, anxiously spotting any sign of activity. He couldn't give them too long, not and maintain the cover story, and as the door began to open, she snatched out the datarod, stuffing it into a hidden compartment in her flight suit.

   “I've been considering what you said,” he said, “and I must confess that I have no recourse other than to inform Kolchak and her crew of your intentions, as well as the actions of your operatives on the station. Of course, they will understand if I wait until I have secured the contracts you so graciously offered.”

   “I quite understand,” she replied, Herb looking at her as though she had gone insane. “In your position, I would do exactly the same.”

   “Then if you don't mind, I suddenly have a lot of work to do. The first of the tankers will be crossing over to your ship in twenty minutes.”

   “Excellent. A pleasure to do business with you.”

   Standing up, she walked out of the room, the others following behind, walking quickly down the corridor. Once they had reached a safe distance, she stopped at a maintenance terminal and pulled the cover clear, entering a series of passwords to unlock administrative access.

   “Fast data pulse back to Alamo?” Cooper asked.

   “Got it in one,” she replied.

   “I don't understand,” Herb said. “What just happened back there?”

   “Once he discovers what I did, he'll have no choice but to tell Kolchak's intelligence gang what we did. Or, more specifically, what Salazar and Foster did. Our cover is still good. He can't conceal it for long, or his own cover will be wrecked, but it would be equally out of character for him to not attempt to extort as much money as he could from us first.” She paused, and added, “Also, this way I got to personally ensure that everything was accurate, that the data was real, not simulated.”

   “What makes you think he won't betray you?”

   She tapped a sequence of commands, sending the data to Alamo, and replied, “Two reasons. First of all, a criminal with roots in the community is always an honest man. He has to keep his word, or he ends up with a knife in the back. Second, if he tried it, his name would be flashed across space as someone not to be trusted, and Triplanetary Intelligence always looks after his own. Third,” she said, as the data dump finished, “He needs our goodwill too badly. If we do end up staging out of this station, and with the not-men out there somewhere, that's a realistic possibility, he'll be rich enough to retire on the proceeds. A task force assembled out here would be an economic boom this place hasn't seen since the war.”

   “Fine,” Herb replied. “Now tell me this. How do you know he's thinking along those lines?”

   “Simple. He's still monitoring us through the bug you sat on. Go and change your trousers, and we'll go and see what else we can find.”

  Chapter 8

   Orlova skimmed over Harper's list, shaking her head, before passing it across to Nelyubov. She looked around her office at the assembled officers, Powell, Quinn, Cantrell and Salazar, then down at the planet below, the white surface shining up at her, blue cracks running along the otherwise pristine face.

   “Drilling equipment, as well as what looks like components for some sort of vehicle. A submarine, specifically. There'd be no need for hull alloys that thick for a shuttle,” Quinn said. “I guess we have our answer. No wonder our scans didn't reveal anything. Whatever it is they are looking for, it's under the ice sheet.”

   “Specifically, somewhere close to these co-ordinates,” Powell said, walking over to the screen and tapping an area where two cracks intersect. “Right in that spot.”

   “I'm impressed,” Nelyubov said. “I didn't think you could trace surface soil that accurately.”

   “I can't,” he replied, “but ten minutes ago, half a dozen shuttles left the station, all of them heading for that location. We did a full mineralogical scan of the materials we found, and it came up with a radius of about a hundred miles. Their base is well within that region.” Turning to Orlova, he added, “This is the real thing. If they are planning a subsurface drilling operation, then they'll need to do extensive work that would be impossible to conceal. Our discovery of that wreck on Magog has forced them to advance their timetable, at a guess.”

   “The Witch in the Well,” Salazar muttered.

   “What was that?” Nelyubov asked.

   “Something that drunk talked about before he died. It's all in my report, sir.”

   “Did we get anything else from the wreck?” Cantrell asked.

   With a smile, Powell said, “Lieutenant, we can and will spend months, maybe years studying it. I'm going to send a dispatch back to the Martian Scientific Institute, recommending they send a team out here. Nevertheless, my very preliminary report suggests that it is from the same culture, and we even found a few traces of language scattered on hull fragments. Not enough to decode, not yet, but it's all material from the data-banks.”

   “So, nothing useful,” Cantrell replied.

   “All knowledge is valuable,” Powell snapped, “and the lack of it has proven fatal far too many times for me to take it lightly. We're building up a picture, and every piece we uncover gets us closer to solving the puzzle.” He paused, then continued in a softer voice, “My guess is that the theory that it is a beacon is correct. That's located to guide someone in.”

   “How could the UN have got such a precise location?” Nelyubov asked.

   “They followed a different trail of breadcrumbs,” Orlova replied. “That doesn't matter.” Looking around the room, she said, “Given the circumstances, I don't think that we have any choice other than to assume that there is something down there of potentially enormous significance to the Confederation. Certainly I don't intend to let Kolchak sna
tch it away without a fight.”

   “They were here first,” Powell said, “and I can't help but think that they have reinforcements a lot nearer than we do.”

   Nodding, Cantrell said, “One of their Dreadnoughts, the Gladwyn Jebb, is stationed at Thalassa right now. We could be facing overwhelming odds in a very short time. Two transports have left the system since we arrived, and I'd bet my next year's pay that they were carrying confidential reports back to United Nations territory.”

   “No bet,” Nelyubov said.

   “All that means is that we have to get this over with quickly,” Salazar said. “We'll be fully refueled by tomorrow, and able to leave the system in four days, long before anyone can respond. We're heading out into unexplored space again anyway, so it isn't as if we're leaving a trail to follow.”

   “True,” Orlova replied.

   Quinn pulled out a datapad, and said, “I've taken a look at the specifications of our underwater probes. We don't exactly have an extensive inventory, but the Mark Nine looks as if it should serve our purposes here. The Gagarin Institute designed it for Europa, but the conditions here are almost identical. Aside from the greater depth, but there's enough of a margin of error that I'll happily sign off that it will make forty thousand feet.”

   “And getting through the ice?” Nelyubov asked. “We already know that it's taken Kolchak weeks to set up for this.”

   “There we have an advantage,” Quinn replied. “The refueling shuttle has all of the equipment we need, nicely self-contained. I can put the probe down onto the surface, and we can have it splashing around down there in twelve hours.”

   Frowning, Salazar said, “It's too easy.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “If it was as simple as that, Kolchak would already be on its way home.” He called up Harper's list on the desk display, and said, “That's a hell of a lot of equipment for a small probe, and they're building a manned vehicle for the retrieval. I don't see why they would go through all of that if they didn't have to.”

   “I agree,” Powell added. “The probe is worth a try, of course, but a month ago a group of UN officers were having this same discussion at Thalassa, though I suspect with more intelligence to work with. We've got to assume that their greater efforts are for some sort of purpose.”

   “Not necessarily,” Cantrell replied. “All of this could just be a maskirova, a deception play to distract us. I'm still not ruling out that this whole operation is designed to throw us off the scent.”

   “They've gone to an awful lot of trouble if that's their plan,” Salazar said, scrolling down to the bottom of the list. “Not to mention spent more than thirty million credits getting all of this equipment out here.”

   “Assuming the files are accurate.”

   “Harper certified them as genuine,” Orlova said, “and that's enough for me. What exactly are you proposing, Sub-Lieutenant?”

   He glanced at Powell, then said, “They're building their own submarine.”

   “Submersible,” Powell added.

   “So we build ours.”

   Quinn looked at him, shaking his head, and said, “No.”

   “If we...”

   “No. Absolutely out of the question, Sub-Lieutenant.” He thumped his datapad, and said, “I thought someone would come up with this crazy idea, and I did some homework before the meeting. We don't have anything in the database on the construction of a submarine.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Using our fabricators, I can build you anything from a spork to a shuttlecraft, as long as I have the blueprints and the raw materials to work with.”

   “Can't you design something?” Powell said.

   “With all respect, Professor, you're madder than Salazar. Look, if you wanted me to design, say, a new type of shuttlecraft, I might be able to help you out. Given about six months to work on it non-stop, I've got the people on board to take a reasonable crack at it. What you are talking about is building something designed to operate in an environment that no-one on this ship has any experience in. I've got structural engineers, even an aerodynamics specialist, but I'd need a hydrodynamicist. I'm not sure there are more than half a dozen of those in the Confederation, and I'm damn certain that we don't have anyone on this ship.”

   Nelyubov nodded, and said, “We've got days, Sub-Lieutenant. At best. Assuming Kolchak's preparations aren't more advanced than we think. If a probe isn't going to do the job, then the job is going to have to be left undone.”

   “What about the probes, though?” Powell began, only to be cut off by the engineer.

   “Orders of magnitude smaller with no life-system. We're talking about something that requires information we just don't have.”

   Frowning, Salazar pressed, “Theoretically, if you had the designs, could you build one?”

   Quinn paused, looked down at his datapad, and replied, “Possibly. It's a moot point, though.”

   “No, it isn't.” Salazar waved the list in the air again, and said, “They've had all the components shipped in to build this submersible. That tells me that originally, they'd hoped to use a probe, and something went wrong. Badly enough that they sent back to Thalassa for parts. If they'd know they'd need one, they'd have brought on with them.”

   “Sound reasoning,” Orlova said, with a nod. “I have a horrible feeling that I know where you are going with this, Sub-Lieutenant, but why don't you just go ahead and say it.”

   “Steal the blueprints.”

   “From Kolchak's database?”

   Nodding, Cantrell said, “This isn't as far-fetched as it might seem. Those Monitors aren't designed for long-range patrol. They're cruiser-killers, basically, for convoy work or base support. They don't have the sort of manufacturing set-up Alamo has.”

   “So they're building the ship on the station.”

   “At least the fine work, though I suspect they'd do the final assembly on the surface,” Cantrell said. “Somewhere, buried in Spartacus Station, is a factory which has all of the information we need, and we've got a crack hacker over there working undercover right now who has the skills to pull off a mission like this. And perhaps root around and find out a few more interesting nuggets of information while she's at it.”

   “And the risk?” Nelyubov asked

   Shaking her head, Cantrell said, “Negligible. I can't see Kolchak reacting if they find out about it. They're not going to start a war over the theft of some non-critical information, no matter how relevant to our current situation. A letter of protest to the Ambassador at most.”

   “I meant to Harper and Cooper.”

   Salazar looked at him, and replied, “I think I know her well enough to speak on her behalf, sir. She'd want to go in, regardless of the risk. If you need someone to volunteer as a decoy to draw their fire, I'll happily sign up for the job. Even if it means I have to get caught.”

   “Don't be so damn eager, Pavel,” Quinn said. “Captain, if we have the schematics, there's still no guarantee that I'll be able to build it. They've got a significant head-start.”

   “But we have the trained personnel, and everything we need for the construction right here on the ship. That has to count for something, sir,” Salazar said. “I'd imagine that a lot of the components could be taken from the shuttlecraft, especially in terms of instrumentation.”

   “I'm far less certain of that than you are, Sub-Lieutenant, but I suppose there might be something in what you say.” Quinn sighed, then turned to Orlova and said, “If you authorize this mission, ma'am, Engineering will get you that submersible, one way or another, and while I can't guarantee that we'll win this little race, we'll work around the clock to try.”

   “What about the surface?” Nelyubov asked.

   “Well, we've got the refueling shuttle, as I said, and I think it'll just take longer, essentially. We can start with a small shaft for the probe and expand it. Obviously I can't work out
the details until we have the specifications of the submersible, but I'd like to get started right away.”

   Orlova glanced at Nelyubov, a smile growing. The engineer had moved from the greatest skeptic in the room to one of the stronger supports in a matter of seconds, drawn by the lure of a new project to work on. She looked around the room, Powell and Salazar silently urging him on, the former looking almost as young as the latter in his excitement, and Cantrell sitting quietly to one side, keeping her face blank.

   “What do you think, Frank?”

   “I think it's going to be a series of nightmares to pull off, Captain. We've got to handle another infiltration operation, on what we must presume is a hostile and alert target, as well as establish a base on the surface with an enemy capital ship hovering overhead. They aren't just going to sit back and watch us pull off this little heist.”

   “Neither will we,” Powell reminded. “I'm sure that Ensign Cooper and his friends can arrange to provide us with sufficient protection.”

   “Not to mention that we still have no real idea what it is we are looking for.”

   “Except that it is important, sir,” Salazar said. “Someone has died for it already.”

   “We have to remember that there is a significant risk factor involved, Sub-Lieutenant, all the way. The peace with the United Nations is tenuous at best.” Then he smiled, and said, “Nevertheless, I think we ought to take a crack at it.”

   “I concur,” Orlova said. “Cantrell, I'll let you co-ordinate with Harper on the hack. See that she gets everything she needs.”

   “Aye, ma'am.” Glancing at Salazar, she said, “I think I might need to borrow you, Pavel. I have an idea.”

   “I'm not going to like this, am I?” he replied.

   “All of this was your idea,” Orlova said with a smile. “Jack, I want you to get everything ready to go at this end. Clear all current non-essential operations from the schedule, and free up everyone you think you might need for this project. I don't think I have to tell you that it has top priority.”