Battlecruiser Alamo: Not In My Name

by Richard Tongue

   As the trooper drifted off in the direction of the nearest bathroom, the gruff Morton asked, “Troubles?”

   “First time’s always hell. I was just the same. How’d we do?”

   “Four injuries, none of them especially serious. I’ve got them on the way back to my shuttle, medical teams waiting when they get to Alamo.”

   “Bradley to Cooper,” a voice echoed. “I don’t know what you just did, but ship functions just came on-line. Someone’s done a complete dump of all the data, though. It’s going to take some serious work to reconstruct it.”

   “Get a security team over here to start the hack.”

   “Probably faster if I just call Harper, but fine.”

   “I’ll start the door-to-door, sir,” Morton said. “Take a couple of squads, shouldn’t take long. Permission to start the prisoners fixing the hole you made in their ship, sir?”

   “Seems sensible enough. We’re not really equipped for that many prisoners anyway.” Tapping a button, he said, “Cooper to Alamo. I need medical and rescue evac for fourteen, right away. We’ve secured the freighter.” He looked around the room, and said, “Or whatever the hell this is.”

  Chapter 3

   Captain Daniel Marshall browsed through the after-action report, most of it a series of guesses and half-hearted conclusions. Cunningham, his Exec, was over on the Caledonia, but aside from the obvious, that it had been converted as a light carrier, there was little more he could say. The main computer had been comprehensively wiped, and none of Nelyubov’s spooks had been able to get anything sensible out of it.

   There was a knock on the door, and Caine stepped into his cabin, throwing a datapad onto the bed before dropping down onto one of the chairs, reaching for a glass of water.

   “Having fun, Deadeye?” he asked.

   She looked daggers at him, and replied, “Salazar sent those shuttles all over the damn place. Half of them down on the planet without enough fuel to get them back up again. You try coordinating tankers for seventeen shuttles, scattered across half a hemisphere, with every freighter captain moaning that they need priorities.”

   “Haven’t you got junior officers for that?”

   With a smile, she said, “I untangled the worst parts of the mess and threw the rest at the midshipmen. Good training. Or something like that.”

   “Sadist,” he replied with a smile. “How long until we get everything loaded?”

   “A little more than a day. It’s a question of the tanker bottleneck. Remind me to requisition more tanker shuttles from Logistics.”

   Nodding, Marshall paused, then said, “He was quick off the mark, wasn’t he.”

   “Salazar?”

   “We should have caught that freighter.”

   “Maybe,” she replied, “but we haven’t exactly been sitting on our hands. He said himself that it was just a gut instinct.” She frowned, saying, “You got a problem?”

   Shaking his head, he said, “No. I just think I should have spotted that.”

   “You can’t be everywhere.”

   “I thought that was my job. Anyway, he did all the right things. I’ve noted that in my report.”

   Leaning forward, she said, “Now let’s talk about the real reason you’ve locked yourself in your cabin with a mountain of reports. That damn ship, freighter, carrier, whatever the hell it is. What does John say?”

   “He and Maggie have gone over every inch of that craft, and the best guess is that someone took the hull of a Rhodan-class and stuffed a pocket carrier inside it. Not capable of long-range operation, just a couple of jumps, which suggests that they have a base somewhere close by.”

   “I don’t like the implications of that.”

   Shaking his head, he said, “Obviously this was a false-flag operation of some kind. Someone’s trying to set up the UN.”

   “There’s an inconsistency, though,” Caine said. “How the hell did the...not-men…,”

   “We’ve really got to find a better name for them,” Marshall interrupted with a smile.

   “How did they manage to copy our technology so perfectly, so quickly? Last time we met, our systems were totally incompatible.”

   There was a knock on the door, and Orlova stepped in, a confused look on her face.

   “You wanted to see me, Captain?”

   Glancing at Caine, Marshall said, “What?”

   “I just got a message from you, telling me to report to your cabin on the double.”

   The door slid open again, and Kristen Harper, Alamo’s ace hacker, stood in the threshold, an unfamiliar woman standing behind her wearing a gray uniform. Without waiting to be invited, they entered the room, Harper sealing the hatch behind her, and planting a device on the desk, turning it on with a flick of the wrist.

   “I’m not going to ask how you broke into my cabin, hacked into the message software, or how you got someone onto this ship,” Marshall said.

   “It’s important,” she said.

   “I presumed it was. Who’s your friend?”

   The mysterious woman smiled, and said, “Your reputation precedes you, Captain Marshall. Many would not take an intrusion with such aplomb. I am Meirong Zhou, of the Lunar Republic.”

   Caine looked at Marshall, then said, “Our records don’t show any citizens of the Republic on the station. Or on any of the freighters, for that matter.”

   “I wouldn’t be much of a spy if I appeared on official records, would I, Captain?”

   With a deep sigh, Marshall looked at Harper, and said, “This had better be good.”

   “I know what that ship was, who it belonged to, and where it is going.”

   Raising an eyebrow, he replied, “Both of you take a seat. You officially have my interest.”

   “I should start,” Meirong said. “I’ve inspected the Caledonia…”

   “How the hell…,” Caine interrupted.

   “Suffice to say that I managed it,” the agent replied. “In any case, the ship is a duplicate of a Republic vessel, and from my analysis, the fighters that you fought were modifications of a Republic copy of a UN fighter.”

   “A copy of a copy?” Marshall asked. “That explains the inconsistencies.”

   “The ship, or at least, the original ship, originated in the Interplanetary War, and was designed as a Q-Carrier. The intent was to hide such vessels in convoys, and use them to give an unpleasant surprise to any attacker.”

   “Or,” Orlova said, “to launch surprise attack on convoys and installations.”

   With a thin smile, Meirong said, “Such an attack would naturally be contrary to the policies of the peace-loving peoples of Luna. In any event, the design proved more difficult than we originally hoped, and the prototypes were not completed until the war had ended.”

   “Prototypes?”

   “Two of them were built. The first, thanks to Captain Winter, is in the hands of the UN Resistance, and I am assured that he is keeping track of their activities. The second, regretfully, is in the hands of the United Nations.”

   “They stole it from the rebels,” Harper said. “A couple of years ago, UN Security managed to infiltrate the resistance, and used the ship to launch terrorist attacks on civilian targets in an attempt to break public sympathy with the rebels, as well as provide an excuse to launch an attack on the Confederation.”

   “That culminated with an attack on Spitfire Station,” Meirong said, “Where Captain Winter threatened to expose the whole story. Since then, we’ve been looking for our missing ship, with the assistance of Triplanetary Intelligence.”

   “Our spies are working with your spies?” Caine asked.

   “And have been for some time. Relations between our governments are extremely amicable at the moment, thanks in no small measure to your actions at Desdemona, Captain.”

   Folding his arms, Marshall said, “I presume you are here to take poss
ession of Caledonia for your government?”

   Shaking her head, she said, “That is not our ship. A duplicate, built in the United Nations shipyards, is my presumption.” She pulled out a datapad, and displayed a starmap. “This information is classified at Ultra level, by both our governments.”

   “Harper, you’d…” Caine began.

   “I have Ultra classification,” she said.

   “Much as I hate to break it to you, that’s for commissioned officers only. Not warrant officers. Hell, Danny, Maggie and I are the only ones on the ship cleared to that level on the ship. Even John Cunningham doesn’t have Ultra clearance.”

   Taking a deep breath, Harper replied, “I’m not a Technical Officer.”

   “Huh?” Marshall grunted.

   Her face reddening, she replied, “I’ve been a Lieutenant for more than a year. Promoted once.”

   “Excuse me?”

   “I needed the clearance, and as you said, I didn’t have the rank to take it. Hell, I was nominally a Spaceman First at the time. Logan arranged it for me.”

   “He just arranged it,” Caine said.

   “To Sub-Lieutenant, at the time,” she replied. “It was classified. After Haven, I was moved up a step, when it was clear that I was going to be coming back to Alamo.”

   “Are you trying to tell me,” Marshall said, “that I have had a spy on my ship for five months? Longer?”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “No, sir! I wouldn’t accept an assignment to spy on my shipmates. My job was to watch what was happening, monitor certain covert operations taking place on the station in Logan’s absence, and to alert you if anything came up that was critical to the ship, the fleet or the Confederation.”

   “And you knew that I had a Republic agent on Yeager.”

   “Her orders were quite explicit,” Meirong said. “I am here to observe, nothing more. To monitor Republic operations against the Cabal, and that is all you are permitted to know. I have already said more than I should, but in this case our interests coincide.”

   Looking at Marshall, Orlova said, “I trust her, sir.”

   “The important fact,” Harper said, “is that there is another ship out there, and that there is a secret UN installation at Luyten’s Star.”

   “Luyten’s?” Caine said. “That’s a one-horse system. A few asteroid miners, a decrepit old ground station run by prospecting biologists.”

   “That’s just a cover,” Meirong said. “It was built two years ago, as a staging area for potential attacks against the Cabal, the Republic or the Confederation. Until recently, it was under the direct control of UN Intelligence.”

   “What’s changed?” Marshall asked.

   “We don’t know,” Harper said. “Both the Republic and the Confederation had agents working there, keeping an eye in case they made a build-up. Until two months ago, it was just a staging area. A small dockyard, resource stockpile, nothing to be really concerned about. Then we lost contact with one of our operatives.” She shook her head, and said, “Frankly, I was on the verge of telling you all about this anyway. We sent in someone else, and she hasn’t reported back.”

   “Our assumption, Captain, is that the carrier was staged from that station,” Meirong said.

   Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “Doesn’t work. That ship only had enough fuel for two jumps, one out, one back.”

   “There’s a facility at DX Cancri that isn’t on the books. Used for smuggling to the UN. We’ve tolerated it because it’s been very useful for intelligence gathering,” Harper said, “but I think it likely that the UN are using it as well. Or someone else.”

   “The not-men,” Marshall said. “My God. They’ve taken the facility, haven’t they. Just putting it there would be a violation of interstellar law, so they can’t openly do anything about it.”

   “They’d respond, though,” said Caine, rubbing her chin. “As quickly as they could get a couple of Dreadnoughts mustered. That station would be wiped out, and the not-men would have a war in their hands.”

   “Unless there was already a war going on,” Orlova replied. “Think about it. If we hadn’t managed to get boarding parties onto the Caledonia in time, we’d have thought that it was the UN trying to launch a surprise attack on us. Say that they launched a second attack on the Cabal, using the same tactic, and were just a little bit luckier. They’ve got the original Q-carrier.”

   “The trick wouldn’t work on us,” Meirong said, “nor on the Confederation, but I doubt the Cabal would listen to our warnings. There is only one option left on the table. Alamo must launch an attack of its own, right now, before they can rally. Take out the station, the carrier, and end this threat.”

   “The UN…” Caine began.

   “Won’t say a word,” Harper said. “We’re talking about a ship that they have indicated is run by a terrorist group. They don’t dare protest – and don’t forget, during their last active phase, they attacked a Triplanetary ship as well. We’ve got good grounds. An illegal ship and an illegal base.”

   Shaking her head, Caine said, “That’s a hell of a leap into the dark. What sort of opposition are we talking about?”

   “One carrier of similar configuration to the one you just defeated so ably, and a small space station designed to be inconspicuous, which means minimal defenses. Our last survey indicated that they had a single missile satellite, four tubes in all.”

   Orlova smiled, and said, “If we load up the drone fighters, then Alamo should be able to handle it nicely.”

   Nodding, Caine added, “At the very least, we’d be able to gather sufficient intelligence that we could provide a convincing case to the Cabal. Make it clear that this is a trick, not an actual attack. I’m in favor.”

   Rising to his feet, Marshall walked towards Harper, looking down at her, and said, “I want your word as, God help me, an officer, that there is nothing else related to this mission that you are not telling me about.”

   Pulling out a datarod, she said, “This has the full technical specifications on the Q-Carrier. Everything you’ll need to defeat it. As well as our latest intelligence on the defenses of the station we’re attacking.”

   “If nothing else, we’d be taking out a staging area that would likely be used to launch attacks upon our farthest outposts in time of war,” Meirong added. “There are significant strategic advantages in this operation.”

   Frowning, Marshall said, “All of this just seems too damn convenient to me. If someone wanted to lure us in, then this would be a good way to do it.”

   Caine nodded, replied, “I agree, but based on this information, I don’t see what else we could do. If the Cabal and the United Nations end up going to war, we’re going to get dragged in one way or another.”

   “I am certain that we have sufficient force for such an operation to be successful,” Meirong said.

   “Does that extend to your accompanying us on this mission?” Marshall asked.

   “You can trust me, Captain. If you wish me to travel with you, then I am willing to accommodate you. Though I naturally I would insist that my presence on this ship be secret.”

   “No-one saw us come up, sir,” Harper said.

   “How long to get ready, Deadeye?” Marshall asked.

   “Twenty-nine hours. Quinn’s got a long list of last-minute things to check anyway.”

   “Maggie, get those drone fighters on board. Ryder’s going to have to stay here to run the station, so you’ll need to find someone…”

   “I’ll fly them, sir,” she interrupted.

   He smiled, then said, “I had a feeling you’d say that. Then we will shape course for DX Cancri in thirty hours. I’ll brief the senior staff tonight…”

   “You can’t tell them everything, sir,” Harper said.

   “I know, Lieutenant,” he said, stressing the rank. “I presume that you are still a Technical Officer as far as
everyone else is concerned.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “I’ll leave you to see to the concealment of our guest.” He looked around the room, and said, “I just hope I’m not doing something I'll live to regret.”

  Chapter 4

   Salazar sat at his station, feeling Grant’s eyes boring into his neck while he worked. He was monitoring five tanker flights at once, focusing on the tracking systems, trying to unsnarl the mess he had created when he’d ordered them to disperse during the attack of the Caledonia.

   “Correct Tanker Four, course deviation one-niner,” Grant said.

   “I’ve got it, sir,” he replied.

   There was a pause, then he said, “Amend one-seven.”

   “Course correction implemented.”

   “Watch that storm front, Salazar. If it gets much worse, we’re going to have to suspend operations in that quadrant entirely.”

   He glanced down at his readout, and said, “Our projections show that it is decreasing in intensity, sir.”

   “Yours?”

   Frowning, he replied, “I requested a report from the Acting Science Officer when I came on duty, sir.”

   Sneering, Grant said, “Who is, I understand, a cosmologist.”

   Turning from his post, Spinelli said, “They’ve got better sensor analysis down there for long-term projections, sir, and the planetological suite.”

   “If you are suggesting some defect in your knowledge, Spaceman, I suggest that you work to improve it immediately.”

   Spinelli’s mouth opened, and wordlessly, he turned back to his station, shaking his head.

   “Sir,” Salazar said. “Spaceman Spinelli is a veteran with several combat stars, and an unbroken series of top ratings on his reports dating back to his first arrival on Alamo.”