Battlecruiser Alamo: Pyrrhic Victory

by Tongue,Richard

   The shuttle rocked as it bit into the thin atmosphere, curving down towards the settlement below, following a homing beam. He looked down across the wasteland below, a deep ocher desert marked with mountains and craters, a geologic battlefield that would be a treasure trove to a science team.

   A memory danced in his head, from his first assignment to Alamo, when the original mission of exploration had been outlined. That had been hijacked by the Xandari, almost as soon as it had begun, but he still longed to explore the stars. There were wonders out here to find, once the war was over.

   “Coming in for landing, sir,” Maqua said. “Looks like a bank of surface-to-air missiles is tracking us all the way done. I've fired the data up to Random Walk for analysis.”

   “Nice welcome,” Salazar replied. “Take it easy on landing, and don't make any sudden moves. I don't think we want to give them any ideas.”

   “No, sir,” the young officer said. Salazar looked over his shoulder, watched him working the helm, and for a second saw the boy he had been when first they'd met, only months before. It seemed so unfair to throw him into the fight, so young. Under other circumstances, he'd have been at the Academy, his only concern his class ranking, not wondering whether he would be alive in the morning. He'd grown up, far too fast. As had they all.

   The landing jets roared, the shuttle settling into position next to a wide, low dome, a docking collar reaching out towards them as the engines faded away. He looked out of the window, the wind kicking dust all around, dropping it in sheets onto the deck. Abruptly, the hatch opened, a pair of Neander stepping through it, both of them armed.

   “Come with us,” one of them said. “The Council is waiting for you.”

   “Midshipman, lock up the ship, and...”

   “Both of you,” the Neander added. “We will take care of our shuttle.”

   “I see,” Salazar said, with a smile. “Looks like we've got a reservation for two, Midshipman. Though I'm not that happy with the service so far.”

   “This way,” the grim-faced figure replied, and the two of them followed the guards down the tunnel, glancing up at the security cameras tracking their every move. Behind them, the shuttle's hatch slammed shut, removing their only means of escape, and Maqua glanced back, shaking his head.

   “Relax,” Salazar said “We'll be fine. We're just here to talk.”

   “That's up to the Council,” the guard replied. He paused, turned to Salazar, and said, “My family is here. My mother, my wife, two children. We're not going to place all of them at risk because of your war.”

   Shaking his head, Salazar said, “Shall we get on with this? As you said, the Council is waiting.”

   “Leave it, Rai,” the other guard said. “Let's just get them to the Colonel.”

   “Sure,” Rai replied, shaking his head. “Sure.”

   Without another word, they walked through a cavernous storage dome, loaded all the way to the ceiling with crates, cylinders and bags, the smell of exotic spices filling the air where one had cracked open. At the far end, a light shone through an open door, and inside a group of Neander sat, two vacant seats facing them. Colonel Skeuros sat in the middle, Major Ingros to his right, nodding curtly at Salazar as he entered.

   “Thank you,” Skeuros said to the guards. “Wait outside.” As the door closed, he added, “Lieutenant Salazar, I don't believe you know Major Dhonkos and Major Krawok.”

   “My pleasure,” he replied, taking the nearest seat.

   “You wanted an audience,” Skeuros said. “Here you are.”

   “I don't see why we're going through with this charade,” Dhonkos said. “That ship is ours, and we should reclaim it. The crew can be returned to Testament Station and make their own way home.”

   “I'm surprised you haven't suggested they be shot,” Ingros replied. “To protect the secret of this planet.” Shaking his head, he added, “That ship is in pieces, Major. Putting it back together again wouldn't be worth the labor.”

   Nodding, Dhonkos said, “Yes, a ship that we needed to protect ourselves, now worthless scrap metal. The fate of our people...”

   “I'm sorry,” Salazar interrupted, “but I was under the impression that I was here to press the case for you to join the attack force fighting the Xandari, not listen to the rantings of the local demagogue.” Rising to his feet, he said, “Please, call us back when he's finished. I've got more important things to do.”

   Red-faced, Dhonkos replied, “Just wait a damn minute...”

   “Major,” Skeuros said. “He is quite correct. Make your case, Lieutenant. I will say that I am minded to allow you to go on your way, on the condition that the astrographic computers on your ship are purged of all data other than that of your destination first. I would even be willing to allow you to call for volunteers from our people, but I do not see that we can do any more.”

   “Your people are going to die,” Salazar said, bluntly. “Not today, perhaps, but sooner or later, the Xandari will find you, and you will have a single choice. Slavery or death. Which is it to be?”

   “They'll never find us,” Dhonkos said, “and we have enough supplies to last for...”

   “Forever?” Salazar asked. “Because that's what we're talking about once they've taken Testament Station. Sooner or later your ships will have to go raiding again, and as soon as the Xandari control this area, they'll search every star, every world until they find you.” A smile on his face, Salazar added, “Besides, I found you easily enough.”

   “Just another good reason why we shouldn't let you leave,” Dhonkos replied. “The Xandari won't bother with an outpost this small, and we heard enough about the strength of the Triplanetary Fleet. If the two of you smash each other to pieces, we will survive long enough to regain our strength in this region.”

   Looking at his counterpart, Ingros said, “That does it. Red Avenger flies with Random Walk. You might be willing to sit back and watch while people die for you, but I'm not. You've got one ship, Lieutenant, for whatever it is worth.”

   “We can't spare you,” Skeuros said. “Already our squadron is diminished.” With a sigh, he added, “We made the attempt, Lieutenant, and we fought with the rest of you for Copernicus. And we lost. That defeat cost me two ships, and more than a hundred crewmen. We simply can't risk a second attack. I'm sorry.”

   “I can send my Weapons Officer to assume command of Red Avenger,” Dhonkos suggested.

   “You can try, but my crew will send him back in pieces,” Ingros replied.

   “Sooner or later, the Xandari will come,” Salazar pressed. “The only chance we have to stop them is right now. They're vulnerable. If we beat them, then their fleet is broken. They're brought forward their last reserves.”

   “After destroying ours,” Skeuros replied. “I'm sorry, but my decision is final.”

   “No,” Maqua said, rising to his feet. “No, it isn't. What do you think you are going to do, rotting away here on this piece of dirt. Say you do survive, just as you said, and that the Xandari leave you alone. Then what? You haven't got the resources to do anything but survive, each generation with less and less until the last few savages die out when something breaks, fifty or a hundred years from now. The Xandari aren't just going to go away, not unless we stop them.”

   “Midshipman…,” Skeuros began.

   “You've had your say,” Maqua said. “They hold thousands, hundreds of thousands of Neander as slaves. Don't you owe them something, as well? Or are you just going to sit here, rotting away as your ships fail one by one, looking up at the sky in fear.” Pointing at the roof, he added, “Those stars are ours, damn it. They don't belong to the Xandari. Your grandchildren can be part of the greatest civilization ever known, but you'll throw all of that aside because you're too afraid of losing what you've got.” Stepping forward, he added, “And you don't have anything to lose, Colonel. Just a collection of leaky domes on a burned-out cind
er, and a death sentence for your children.”

   Shaking his head, he said, “To hell with all of you! We'll go anyway, with anyone who will come, and we'll beat those bastards off, and you can just stay here and rot.”

   “He's right,” Ingros said. “He's right, Colonel, and you damn well know it.”

   “Renegade will join you,” the hitherto silent Krawok added.

   “This is insanity,” Dhonkos replied.

   “Why don't you ask your people?” Salazar said. “See what they want. Or are you afraid of what they might tell you?”

   “My ship will remain,” Dhonkos said. “I care about our families.”

   “Then you will remain alone,” Skeuros said. “We're with you, Lieutenant. I'll throw five more ships into the fight for you.” He paused, then added, “If this goes wrong, then everyone on this planet is as good as dead. You understand that.”

   “I do,” he replied.

   “This is a mistake,” Dhonkos said.

   “Possibly, but the Midshipman is right.” He looked around the dome, and said, “This isn't a haven. It's a prison, and one we've locked ourselves into. Let's take the chance.” Turning to his colleagues, he said, “We've got a lot to do in the next five days, and I suggest we get started. I'll call a tactical briefing for tomorrow morning, Lieutenant, and you can outline the battle-plan.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “That's all, then,” he replied, and the Neander rose to their feet, walking out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Dhonkos glared at Salazar as he left, shaking his head as he departed. Maqua was still looking at the empty chairs, his face pale.

   “Did you plan on berating the Council, Midshipman?” Salazar asked.

   “Sir, I...”

   “You aren't even commissioned, Mister.”

   “I know, sir, and I'm sorry. I guess something just snapped. It won't happen again.”

   A smile crossed Salazar's face, and replied, “That's a pity. You did good, Sub-Lieutenant. Damned good.”

   Maqua returned the smile, then turned with a start, and said, “Sir?”

   “You aren't going to be any readier to wear the silver bars than you are right now. Go ahead and raise your right hand, and I'll make it official. Are you ready?”

   “Yes, sir,” he said.

   “Then repeat after me...”

  Chapter 10

   “I still think we should have attacked as soon as the drones came down,” Cantrell said, peering up at the enemy base through the binoculars. “They could come back up at any moment.”

   “We might have taken out their surveillance cameras, but they've still got the Mark One Eyeball,” Cooper replied, sliding a fresh clip into his rifle, the only one he had. “We wait until dawn, and hit just as the light comes over the hill.” He smiled, and added, “Trust me, that's the best time to attack.”

   He glanced up at the base, checking his cover once again. The fields were littered with small outposts now, hastily constructed or converted out of whatever was to hand. Their target had been a farmhouse before the Xandari arrived, a wall hastily thrown up to protect it, three towers covering the approach. Without the protection of the drones to bring in aerial reinforcements, it was vulnerable, only a handful of guards to hold it, the locals certainly unwilling to come to the rescue.

   Looking at his watch, he frowned. Still five minutes before dawn, before the arrival of the dim half-light that would provide the best cover for their approach. The base might have been built quickly, but the Xandari had done a good job, burning out a hundred-meter killing field all around it. With a little luck, they could sprint across it in thirty seconds, but one man with a machine gun could bring their attack to a bloody end.

   “What's that?” Donegan hissed, pointing at a light moving across the sky, too fast to be a star. Cooper reached for the binoculars, focusing them on the object, tracking it over the horizon.

   “Shuttlecraft,” he replied. “Coming down from orbit. Knowing our luck, they've got replacement drones on board.” Shaking his head, he added, “That doesn't change a thing. Might just be usual rotation, anyway. There's been a lot of activity lately.”

   “You think they're getting ready to move out?” the medic asked.

   “Possibly,” he replied.

   “That's good, then,” McBride said. “Less Xandari for us to worry about down here.”

   “Our job isn't just to free this planet, Private,” Cooper replied. “We've got to pin that fleet down, cause enough mayhem that they don't launch their attack, not until our reinforcements can get into position to be ready for them.”

   “You think they're coming, sir?”

   “I know they're coming, Private,” he replied. “We've just got to make sure we're ready to provide a suitable welcome when they do.” Gesturing to his side, he said, “Spread out, and keep low. We'll be launching our attack in three minutes.” Turning to Cantrell, he added, “Grenades first, and run like hell itself.”

   “Understood.”

   He paused, then added, “This target is strategic, people. Don't pull any punches.”

   His squad nodded as they dispersed, preparing for their attack. He'd held them together as long as he dared, ready to pull back in some sort of order should something go wrong. Even now, he watched for the return of the drones, small lights in the sky ready to flash down on them, ending the battle before it could begin.

   There was more than that. The people manning this base weren't Xandari, just ordinary people doing their job, just like him. Likely ones who weren't particularly trusted, to be exiled to an outpost such as this. Looking at the fort again, he shook his head. This was a symbol of things to come, a monument to future tyranny. Once the city had been taken fully under Xandari control, the countryside would be next, forts such as this used as the instruments of power projection to subjugate the farming settlements.

   Unless they could pull off a miracle and liberate the planet first. Always assuming that the enemy didn't instead opt to tip over the table and launch an orbital bombardment, wiping the colony from the map. He glanced up at the sky, just able to pick out the ships in orbit, slowly drifting through space. Any one of those warships could kill thousands of people at the whim of its commander, a thought that chilled him to the bone.

   It was time. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, then raised his rifle, ready to fire, tensing himself for the race to come. As the first beams of light shone through the mountains to the east, the thundering roar of an explosion echoed across the plain, the grenade exploding off to the side, bursts of machine gun fire rattling through the air as the guards attempted to find their attackers.

   None of these men needed to be ordered into battle. They charged as one, leaping out of their chosen cover, single shots fired blind in an attempt to distract the defenders, racing for the paradoxical safety of the wall. He remembered reading somewhere about the need for a two-to-one advantage while assaulting a fixed position. As far as he could work out, the odds were reversed today.

   His feet slammed into the dirt, one step after another as he charged towards safety, not focused on anything other than reaching his target. A scream echoed out, he thought from ahead of him, hopefully a lucky shot from one of his troopers. There was nothing he could do if it was one of his own people, their only safety lying in the capture of the base.

   Shoulder-first, he slammed into the wall, looking through the gloom of the dawn to see three others scattered along the perimeter. He made a hacking motion with his hand, and they raced around the perimeter towards the gate. The machine guns futilely lanced out with bursts of ammunition in a bid to wipe out the attackers, while they ducked and dived for cover.

   He reached the gate first, reaching into his pocket for the last grenade, carefully placing it where it could do the most damage. A bullet slammed into the ground to his side, scattering mud through the air, and he looked up t
o see a sniper lining up his rifle, ready to take the shot that would kill him. Before he could manage it, the enemy soldier collapsed, hands clutching his chest as his weapon dropped forgotten over the side, falling to the dirt.

   “Blow that bastard, Cooper!” Cantrell yelled, waving her rifle. Reaching down, he pulled the release, tapping the button three times to set the timer, then ran back along the wall, trying to get some distance. If this didn't work, then the attack had failed. Already he could hear orders being barked inside, the garrison commander rallying his troops for the counterattack that would wipe them out. He looked across at the woods beyond, cover that might buy his attack force a chance of survival, but none of that would matter. Without the weapons stored inside, his army couldn't win.

   With a titanic roar, the grenade exploded, sending a shower of splinters through the air as the gate collapsed, falling into the compound. A rattle of machine gun fire spat death into the newly-created gap, but they had the opportunity they had sought to break into the garrison, and he was determined to make use of it. Inching his way towards the ruins of the gate, he switched his rifle to semi-automatic, then held it away, out to the side, firing a burst at random into the compound.

   He didn't hit anything, but he didn't expect to. The first fusillade of bullets bought his squad enough time to get into position to do damage with the second, leaning out into fire to take carefully placed shots at their target. It was bloody, it was messy, and it was enough, and as the machine gun continued to bark, he brought down the gunner and the officer supervising the crew, another dropping to a well-aimed shot by Walpis.

   Slipping and sliding on the mud, he tumbled into the sole remaining member of the machine gun crew, the weapon temporarily out of service. Up on the walls, the guard posts were turning their weapons around, trying to aim them inside the compound to deal with the invading forces, but Walpis wasn't going to give them that chance, directing the squad to shoot the gunners before they could get into position, the watchtowers now only manned by the dead.