“Wait!” the man in Cooper's arms said. “I surrender!” Up on the walls, the rest of the defenders were raising their hands, those who had survived the fury of the assault, and a group of unarmed men walked out of the old farm building, looking in fear at the soldiers surrounding them. Saltzman ran around from the rear, a beaming smile on his face.
“We've got transport,” he said. “Two trucks, fueled and ready for a hundred-mile drive. More than enough.”
“Walpis, take command of these prisoners, and have them transfer their stores into the trucks, everything we can carry. You know what we need.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, gesturing with his rifle at the enemy troops. “Come on, you bastards, you can work for your lives. Any false moves will be your last, understand? Now get with it.”
Cantrell jogged up beside him, then said, “You realize they'll have sent out a distress signal.”
“Probably,” he said. “I think we can count on twenty minutes. By then we should be a mile away, under cover.” He frowned, then added, “Though the sooner we can ditch the trucks the better. In this mud, a blind man would be able to follow their tracks.”
“That's what's worrying me,” she said.
“Sir,” McBride said, his head peering out of the farmhouse door. “Looks like this was their control center. Lots of communications equipment.”
“Go help Walpis, Private,” Cooper said, making for the building, looking for a second at the resentful face of the man he had wrestled with over the machine gun, smeared in mud, his mouth twisted into a scowl. The face of a man who knew that vengeance was on the way, that the wrongs done to him would soon be reversed.
Stepping into the farmhouse, he looked at the bank of equipment that had been dropped into position along one wall, furniture unceremoniously scattered around, dumped to make room for the alien technology. Cantrell ran her eye over it, then sat at the controls.
“Stolen, Lunar Republic, I think. Give me a couple of minutes and I should be able to work something out.”
“Move quickly,” he replied.
“You don't have to tell me twice.”
While she worked, he walked into the kitchen, helping himself to a drink of water from the tap, cool and clean. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something watching him from the wall, and turned with a start to see a photograph of a couple, hanging over the counter, faded from age. A man and a woman, arms wrapped around each other, facing him with smiles on their faces.
They'd lived here, maybe until the Xandari had arrived a few months ago, then been unceremoniously thrown from the home they had built to make room for their garrison, left with nothing but memories of better times. Assuming they hadn't simply been killed to tidy up loose ends. He looked out of the window at the ugly concrete wall, looming twenty feet high, already starting to crumble from the hast of the construction. It could be removed, destroyed, but somehow this place would never be the same, as though an indelible stain had been left on the walls. The stink of death was in the air, in the very fabric of the building.
An engine started up, and he looked out of the side window to see the prisoners loading crates into the first truck, the precious weapons and ammunition that would arm the liberators of this planet, if all went well. Hatred and fear filled the eyes of the loaders, the watchful gaze of Walpis and McBride following their every move.
“What are you going to do with them?” Cantrell asked, methodically throwing a bank of switches, panels lighting up and fading away at her command.
“Leave them tied up outside,” he replied.
“Outside?”
“My gut tells me that an airstrike is on the way. You think the Xandari will give any thought for collateral damage? They'll blow this place to bits if it gives them a chance of bringing us down with it, and to hell with anyone else they might kill in the process.” Shaking his head, he said, “Outside they have a better chance of living until someone sends people out on the ground to clean up the mess.”
“When they will probably be shot for failing to capture us.”
“You think I don't know that?” he snapped. “You think I don't know what we're doing here? They chose to fight with the Xandari, and they're going to have to live with the consequences of their decision. We can't save everyone, damn it, and people shooting at me drop right to the bottom of my priorities list!”
She looked across at him, and said, “Sorry, Gabe.”
He nodded, took a deep breath, and replied, “Me too. I guess all of this is beginning to get to me.”
“It would have that effect on anyone,” she replied. “You aren't the only one getting stretched to breaking point.” Looking up at the panel, she added, “This wasn't exactly what I expected when I signed on.”
“You never did tell me why.” Raising a hand, he added, “And don't fall back on that cover story. We both know it was made up, right from the start.”
With a shrug, she replied, “Intelligence wanted eyes on this mission.”
“Harper.”
“Maybe I should have been more specific. Do you think Triplanetary Intelligence is one collective organization? It's more a collection of warring tribes, though we've all got the same basic goal in mind. Winter might trust Harper, but a lot of others don't.” She turned to him, and said, “We've got to win this war, Gabe, and we've got to do it quickly. You know that.”
Eyes widening, he replied, “You're only just working that out?”
“I knew it before I left, as did we all, but do you think everyone back home feels the same way? Lots of people calling on us to hang back, to wait and see what happens. The Combined Chiefs had to cash in every political favor they could find to get that mission assembled, and it wasn't an accident that Orlova and Marshall were the leading officers. Both of them are liked by the Senate, trusted by the President, and that's pretty damned rare.”
“Just what are you getting at?”
With a sigh, she added, “Let's just say that there are contingency options left to explore. Ones which might not have been on the table if I wasn't around.” Turning to him, she added, “We're going to end this threat, Gabe, one way or another, no matter what the cost.”
“Games,” he said. “You and your bosses are still playing stupid games. People are dying, Lisa, dying by the thousand.”
“Don't you think I know that?” she yelled. “That's what this is all about! Thousands dying here, but millions would die back home if the Xandari aren't stopped, and we're running out of time. Have you seen the intelligence projections of their shipbuilding capability? This is a race that takes the concept of Total War to new heights.” A light flashed on the console, and she said, “We'll have to finish this later. We're in.”
“Into what?”
“Planetary sensor network. I wanted to get a look at what was going on up in orbit. We're going to need better data than lights in the sky.” She frowned, and said, “That's odd.”
“What?”
“They're on the move, deploying for battle.” Panic flashed onto her face, and she added, “Damn it all, Gabe, the Fleet can't be attacking now, it's too damn soon! They'll be cut to pieces if they try it.”
“Commodore Marshall's got more sense than that,” Cooper replied.
“Does Harper?” She tapped a series of controls, and the largest panel flashed up a tactical display of local space, ships turning towards the hendecaspace point, fighters erupting from their ships. A series of numbers ran across the screen, dimensional instability building to the threshold, ready to open a window into hendecaspace just large enough for a ship to cross through.
“That doesn't look very big,” he said, frowning.
“Not a capital ship,” Cantrell said, looking down at the readings. “Scoutship, transport, something like that. Maybe they're trying a distraction.” Tapping a control, she said, “It isn't going to work, anyway. Whoev
er's running this defense is no fool. Half the formation's heading for the second hendecaspace point.”
“Here it comes,” Cooper said, and a new ship appeared, engines firing as the newcomer dived towards the planet, recklessly spending fuel.
“Neander transport,” Cantrell replied.
Cooper turned with a start as his communicator chirped, the noise unfamiliar after months without a signal, and he pulled the device out of his pocket, Cantrell frowning as the channel opened.
“They'll be able to find us,” she warned.
“The Xandari already know where we are,” he replied. “This is Lieutenant Cooper. Go ahead.”
“Major Molpa here,” the familiar voice said. “Harper sent us. We're...”
The channel died, and Cooper said, “Major, I hear you, come back.” He paused, then added, “Come in, please.”
“They've been hit,” Cantrell said, gesturing at the image of the freighter on the sensor display. “I don't think our friends in orbit are wasting any time.” Missile tracks streaked across the screen, homing in on their target. “They never had a chance.”
“Wait,” Cooper said, as a target detached from the freighter, racing for the safety of the atmosphere. “They've launched a shuttle.” Nodding, he added, “They must have known what would happen when they arrived.”
“Tracking trajectory,” Cantrell said. “Looks like they're coming down close to us. Within twenty miles, anyway. That first call must have been to get a fix.” Looking at him, she added, “The Xandari will have everything on the planet deployed to capture them.”
“We'll just have to get there first, then,” he replied, a smile on his face. “Let's move.”
Chapter 11
Harper looked around the cramped briefing room, anxious looks on every face as the battle plan played out on the screen behind her once last time, Colonel Kilquan glancing at his subordinates, all stoic-faced, watching the display. Next to her, Scott looked down at her datapad, poking at the readout, making notes she didn't need about a plan she already knew by heart.
“Any questions?” Harper asked, as the last image, hopefully showing their fleet orbiting a subdued Copernicus, the Xandari forces wiped out, played on the screen. She knew it wasn't going to be that easy, and so did everyone else.
“Just one, Lieutenant,” Major Tlodoc said. “Your battle plan is based on two elements of which you know nothing. The arrival of Neander reinforcements under the command, or shall we say the supervision, of Lieutenant Salazar, and an uprising taking place on the surface of the planet.”
“We've taken what steps we can to set those elements in motion,” Scott loyally said.
“Indeed, and should both elements fail, I know that we have an escape option prepared.” Reaching down to his set of controls, Tlodoc brought up one of the earlier images, showing the ships evading pursuit as they raced away from Copernicus, heading for a distant hendecaspace point to flee the system. They had the acceleration advantage, if nothing else.
“What's your point, Major?” Harper asked, trying to force fire into her voice.
“Simply this. What happens if one element succeeds, and the other fails. What happens if there is a successful uprising on the planet, but the Neander don't arrive. We don't have the strength to support them, even if everything goes perfectly down there.”
“Aye,” one of the other Koltoc said. “And for that matter, what happens if the Neander arrives and there is no planetary support? They'll be out of position, stranded. It'll be impossible for them to do anything other than fight their way out, and at best they'll take heavy casualties on the escape. More likely they'll be wiped out to the last ship.”
“We can't plan for every contingency,” Harper began, triggering a series of frowns and muttered comments from the Koltoc, “but under the first scenario, we will do as much damage as we can to the enemy fleet before retreating out of the system as planned, in the hopes that we might at least delay the Xandari fleet.”
“And the other?” Kilquan asked. “The Neander arriving, stranded and alone?”
“They're our allies,” Harper replied. “Daedalus will move to assist them with their evacuation, and you will proceed under independent command as you think best. I'll leave that to your tactical instincts and your conscience.”
A thin smile crossed the veteran's face, and he added, “I wouldn't have trusted any other answer, Lieutenant.”
“I'd like to talk about the command again,” Tlodoc said. “Given the disparity...”
“I'm satisfied with the situation,” Kilquan said, glaring at his subordinate. “I command our squadron, and the combined fleet operates under Triplanetary command.” He looked at Harper, silently confirming that he maintained an effective veto under fleet operations. “Should the Neander arrive, do you think they will happily serve under our people?”
“Hell,” the gruff Koltoc from before, “If they send everything they have, they'll outnumber us. I'm sure as hell not serving under a pirate, Major, and I don't care what short-term advantages you think we'll get from doing it.”
“I was just suggesting...”
“I know what you were suggesting,” Harper said, rising from her chair. “We've got a battle plan we can all live with, and a mission to accomplish. The starting gun has been fired, gentlemen. The transport arrived at Copernicus ten minutes ago, and the resistance...”
“If there is one,” Tlodoc said.
“The resistance has been told to plan their uprising to begin in five days. If we don't move in support, then a lot of people are going to die for nothing, and it will be our fault as surely as if we'd pulled the trigger ourselves. This mission goes forward.” Looking up at the countdown clock, she added, “Get back to your ships. We leave the system in ten minutes. And good hunting, to all of you.”
“Likewise, Lieutenant,” Kilquan said. “We'll see you on the far side.”
The Koltoc walked out of the room, Tlodoc still muttering to Kilquan, the latter brushing him off with a wave of the hand. Harper looked at Scott, sitting implacably at the desk, while the battle-plan. began to run through again behind them, silently running back over the tactical projections.
“What do you think, Kat?” she asked.
Shaking her head, Scott replied, “I think you'll get one more fight out of them, and lucky to get that.” Looking at the screen, she said, “This plan is risky as hell.”
“I know,” she replied. “If there was any other realistic choice, I'd take it.”
Pausing, Scott said, “We could have tried to punch through the blockade. Use enough ships to fight our way back to Thule.” Turning back to her, she said, “That's where Commodore Marshall will be waiting, assuming he hasn't already sent more ships forward. Help could be a lot closer than we think.”
“We're committed,” Harper said. “If we don't move, and Salazar arrives alone, he's dead.”
“I just want you to be honest about your motivations, that's all. There were other options we could have tried, though granted, in a strange sort of way this was the one with the least risk. Pulling back exposes a lot of systems to the Xandari.” Looking Harper in the eyes, she added, “If this fleet gets wiped out, it'll be a whole lot worse. Nothing to stop them until they reach the borders, and should they play it carefully, when they do hit the Confederation they'll have enough strength to win. The war will be over.”
Taking a deep breath, Harper replied, “I know that. I also know that this is the last chance.” Punching a control, she brought up a flickering holoprojection, and said, “That just about says it all, doesn't it. All that stands between the Xandari and home is a thirty-year-old ship built for deep recon and two fleets who have spent more time fighting each other than ever they have the enemy.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “I wanted to go back, Kat. I wanted that very badly. To turn over all of this to someone else, someone better, more exp
erienced, more suited to be a commander...”
“I wouldn't worry about that,” Scott said. “You've done a good job, but this is a hell of a risk, and let's be honest about it. A lot of your friends have been captured, and others are at hazard. You want to ride in a rescue them.”
With a reluctant nod, Harper said, “True enough. And more than that. I hated retreating, I hated leaving that planet to the Xandari, no matter what the local government said. We promised to defend them, and we broke our word, and the fact that we didn't have a choice just makes it worse.”
Nodding, Scott said, “There's nothing wrong with that, Kris. I feel the same way myself, but there's a big difference. I'm not in command, and you are.” She paused, and added, “You have to start thinking about what you'll do if it goes wrong.” Pointing at the screen, she continued, “The odds of everything going according to plan are next to zero, and we both know it. If it all fails, what do we do?”
“As I said,” Harper replied. “We break and run, doing as much damage as we can on our way out of the system, while making sure to bring as many ships out as we can.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Then, I guess, we run for home, leaving the shattered remains of our alliance behind us.”
“Words,” Scott said. “That's all you've got. The question I need to ask, as your second-in-command, is whether or not you'll go through with it. The first attack was different. We were taken by surprise, betrayed, our best ship taken from us. Running was easy then. This time we're pressing the attack, and that's going to make it a lot harder to simply back away from battle.” Looking around the room, she added, “There are forty-two people on this ship, and another hundred on the two Koltoc ships. All of them are depending on you making the right decision when the time comes.”
“I've done a great job so far, haven't I?” Harper said, shaking her head. She reached for the datapad, and said, “Have you seen the casualty report from the station? A hundred and thirty-four dead, and that's just an estimate. Only nineteen identified, and three of them from Alamo.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Pyrrhic Victory Page 10