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

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  DEPTH CHARGE

  Lost Adventures of the Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 1

  Richard Tongue

  Battlecruiser Alamo, Lost Adventures #1: Depth Charge

  Copyright © 2017 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: December 2017

  Cover By Keith Draws

  With thanks to Ellen Clarke and Rene Douville

  All characters and events portrayed within this ebook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Join the Triplanetary Universe Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/A9MdX

  Historical Note

  This adventure takes place in between ‘Triple-Edged Sword’ and ‘Forbidden Seas’.

  Chapter 1

   The shuttle soared down over the asteroid, flying close enough that Ensign Gabriel Cooper, commander of the Espatier contingent of the Battlecruiser Alamo, felt that he could reach through the viewscreen and touch it. As the ancient rock tumbled past, he unbuckled his harness and lurched forward to the flight deck.

   “Stop showing off, Barbara!” he said, a smile on his face.

   “Just thought I'd give you ground-pounders an exciting ride, dear,” she replied, shaking her head. “You can relax, I know what I'm doing. We'll be at the training site in five minutes, and you can go out and play with your friends.”

   With a sigh, he turned away from his wife and looked out at the squad sitting in the passenger compartment, all of them in various stages of donning their spacesuit. Rhodes, tardy as ever, frowned and looked up at Cooper as he returned to the rear section.

   “Sir, can I ask a question?”

   “Sure.”

   “I seem to remember doing all of this in Basic Training, sir. Why do we have to do it again?”

   Corporal Hunt, sitting at the front, glared at him and said, “Just because you managed to stuff this in your thick head once doesn't mean we think it stuck, Private. Out there if you screw up, you get very dead, very quickly, and that equipment you are wearing is expensive!”

   “It's been months since we've had to operate in a suited environment, Private,” Cooper added. “We've spent so much time operating in shirtsleeves lately that I think it best that we remember what we are meant to be good at. Of course, if you don't think you need the training, then I don't have any objection to you skipping re-certification.”

   “Thank you, sir,” Rhodes smiled, a superior glare on his face.

   “Of course, given the free time that will give you, I'll have to find something to occupy your time. I think Petty Officer Vercotti was looking for some extra hands to help with the waste reclamation system.”

   Looking around, Rhodes said, “I was just asking, sir.”

   “Three minutes, gang,” Bradley said, turning from the cockpit. “I've got the training beacon up ahead.”

   “Suits on, everyone,” Cooper said. “Let's get this done. Last one to complete the course gets to go on Vercotti's wild ride tomorrow.” A groan echoed through the cabin, and he smiled as he reached for his helmet, pulling it out of the overhead locker.

   “Wait a minute, Gabe,” his wife said. “I'm picking up something on short-range sensors.”

   “Something?”

   “Wait one,” she repeated. “Definitely in a fixed orbit, parked at a point of gravitational stability.” Turning to face him, she said, “We'd never have spotted it from the egress point. Someone would have had to get in close to see it.” Looking back at her panel, she added, “Artificial alloys, some of which I recognize. Space-cold, though. Whatever it is, it's been there a long time.”

   “Alamo to Shuttle One,” Lieutenant-Captain Orlova, Alamo's commander, said through the overhead speaker. “Check your scanner.”

   “Roger that, Alamo,” Bradley replied. “I've picked it up.”

   “We're running a thorough check now, but all we've got is the sensor pickup from the shuttle. There'll be a probe heading your way in a few minutes to conduct a fuller analysis. Hold position for the moment, and I think we can consider the exercise canceled.”

   “Alamo, this is Cooper.”

   “Go ahead, Ensign.”

   “I've got a ship full of protected-forces experts ready to go, ma'am. If you're going to send someone out to investigate the wreck, we might as well get on with it here and now. I recommend a three-man party goes across and take a look.”

   Turning to him, Bradley said, “You're crazy.”

   “You said it yourself. That ship is cold, cold as space, which means there is no chance of there being anything alive over there. No sign of power generation, no sign of activity at all. She's been out there a long time.”

   “And will gladly wait for a few hours while we conduct more tests.”

   “All of which will take us to the point we're already at. I'll be going over there one way or another, so why not get it over with while we're ready to go.”

   “Cooper, Alamo here,” an older voice, that of Alamo's Science Officer, Senior Lieutenant Powell. “You've had some experience in ruins of this type, according to your file.”

   “That I have, sir. I took the xenoarchaeological survey course during our last layover.”

   “Two weeks in a lecture room and the man thinks here's an expert,” Bradley said.

   With a shrug, he replied, “It was mandatory, remember.”

   “Orlova here, Gabe. You and two volunteers, and make sure to keep your helmet cameras on, and record everything you can see. Take plenty of samples, but try not to disturb anything. If you run into any trouble or if in your opinion there is even the slightest risk, get out of there right away. Bradley, you monitor the situation. Shuttle Two is getting ready for launch right now, and will be on site in forty minutes with a science team. Understood?”

   “Yes, ma'am. We'll be over there in a minute. Cooper out.”

   Looking up at him, Bradley said, “Be careful, you idiot.”

   “Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it.” Turning to the rear compartment again, he said, “Right, you heard it. Two volunteers to poke around some sort of strange alien starship.”

   “I'll go, sir,” Hunt said, looking around. “And so will Rhodes.”

   “Hey, wait a minute,” the hapless trooper said.

   “You seemed to think you knew it all already,” Hunt replied. “Now you get to prove it.”

   “Price,” Cooper said, turning to the second-in-command of the squad. “You and Lopez get suited up and wait just outside the airlock for us, and take the rescue pack with you. If anything goes wrong, I want you ready.”

   “Yes, sir,” Price replied.

   “Stand by for a short burn,” Bradley said. “I'm going to try and bring us in a little closer, a
nd give you a straight run to the target. Ten second thrust, at low power.”

   As the shuttle gently eased into position, Cooper slid on his helmet and watched as the status monitors flashed green, one after another, the on-board computer working down its checklist. He stepped over to the airlock, Hunt just behind him, and tapped the control to open the inner door, passing into the cramped space beyond as the hatch slammed shut, the pressure quickly leaking away. A red light glared over the outer door, announcing that the area was now a vacuum.

   “We're ready, Gabe. The wreck should be right in front of you, four hundred feet away. I'm picking up a lot of holes in the hull, so you won't have any trouble getting in.”

   “Confirmed.” Clicking a button on his wrist controls, he said, “Alamo, you should be getting my helmet pickup now.”

   “Roger, Ensign,” Orlova said. “We're all watching, and everything is being recorded for posterity.”

   The outer door slid open, and he took a step out, kicking away from the shuttle, the suit thrusters automatically correcting him as a course plot towards the wreck flashed on his heads-up display, awaiting his confirmation. He took a second to look around, the slowly tumbling ship ahead silhouetted against the asteroid beneath, looking superficially like any of a million pieces of debris in this system. A closer look was telling, though. The trace of a regular shape, straight lines unlike anything produced by nature, a faint shine from the dim sunlight.

   His suit thrusters fired, slowly sending him towards the target, drifting cautiously forward on a straight line. Behind him, the airlock opened once again, Hunt and Rhodes following him into the unknown, their readings flashing up on his monitor screen. Hunt was a fifteen-year veteran, old enough to have seen action in the Interplanetary War, and while Rhodes had a tendency to let his mouth run away from him, he had the best scores for zero-gravity combat in the platoon.

   The alien ship dominated the horizon as he drifted closer, his eyes running over the battered, twisted hull, trying to work out what had happened to it. Some of the damage would have been caused by meteorite impacts over the years, but he quickly spotted a wider, jagged gash that had ripped outwards, not inwards. Someone had chosen to scuttle the ship, uncounted centuries ago, and leave it here as a monument. In a position carefully selected to keep it hidden except by a chance discovery.

   “Half-way, Gabe,” Bradley said. “Anything interesting?”

   “Nothing yet,” he said. “Unfamiliar design.”

   “Alamo has nothing like it in its database either. No sign of familiar markings that we can detect. You might be onto something new, here.”

   “Aliens?” Rhodes asked. “Like those things on...”

   “That ship is cold, Private, and very, very dead,” Cooper said. “Keep your wits about you, though. But keep your weapons holstered unless I tell you to use them.”

   A quick blast of his thrusters pushed him up and to the right, before a counter-thrust steadied him again. There was a large gap up ahead, big enough that he'd have no trouble getting into the ship without risking any damage to his suit. As he grew close, he braked again, allowing Rhodes and Hunt a chance to catch up.

   “Hello, stranger,” Hunt said. “Small, sir. Maybe half the size of a Mariner-class Scout, and she looks self-contained. I don't think there are any missing pieces of this puzzle. I wouldn't want to spend long on a ship that small.”

   “If these are aliens, Corporal, who knows what they were used to. Rhodes, I want you to wait here, and hold position at the entrance. If I call for help, I want you inside before I finish screaming, weapon drawn. If we don't come back, return to the shuttle and wait for the second party. Understood.”

   “Yes, sir,” Rhodes replied, kicking back a few feet from his thrusters, as though recoiling from the wreck. Hunt gently drifted in behind Cooper, clipping a safety line to link them, giving it a sharp jerk to test the hold. With one last glance back at the shuttle, Cooper drifted inside the wreck, glancing around to run his helmet lights around the chamber within, Hunt following just behind.

   “Not aliens, sir,” Hunt said, gesturing to the right at a shadowy shape on the wall that sent Cooper's heart briefly racing before he realized it was a spacesuit, still clipped into position after the centuries. He shone his light up and down, and smiled when he looked at the shoes, markings of dirt still visible on the soles. Gently, carefully, he reached forward and pulled it from the wall, taking it in his hands.

   “Overhead storage locker,” Hunt said, cataloging the room. “Internal hatch, tight sealed. Probably vacuum-welded, at a guess.” He pushed at the material, and nodded, “We're not getting that open in a hurry, sir.”

   “The systems look vaguely familiar,” Cooper added. “Similar design ethos, at a guess. I suppose there are only so many ways you can design an airlock control.” He gestured at the rip in the hull, leading deeper into the ship. “Rhodes, I'm going to pass out a spacesuit to you. Have Price toss you a rescue ball, and keep it in vacuum. I want it preserved for analysis.”

   “Will do, sir.”

   As he tossed the spacesuit back, some of the material started to crumple in his hands, and he felt a brief pang of guilt at moving it. A faint outline remained on the wall, signs of the dust that had drifted in through the hole over the endless centuries, a silent sentry at the gates of eternity.

   “Come on, Corporal,” he said, shaking himself out of his reverie. “Let's press on.” He shone his light through the hole, a second, larger compartment beyond, and carefully guided himself through it, making sure to avoid the jagged metal that seemed to reach out towards him. Inside, he saw something dancing in the shadows, and paused for a second before he realized it was nothing but a dangling cable, swinging back and forth, probably disturbed by the first blast from their thrusters.

   The hole continued through the deck, running down into a corridor, as far as he could see, likely all the way through the ship. If this had been an asteroid, it had been traveling with terrific velocity with respect to the vessel.

   “Not an accident, not nature,” Hunt said. “Some sort of weapon.”

   “The technical team can make a better analysis. We're just here to make sure the ship is safe.” He eased forward, drifting slowly onward, into a room filled with control equipment, couches at the heart of the bridge, shattered monitors gleaming down from him. There was a suited figure slumped in a chair, staring forward, and he pushed forward to see a body in the center seat, a pistol of some sort in his hand, dead eyes staring forward. The visor was opaque, sun-shield down, and he couldn't see the face of the corpse, but it was definitely human.

   “Alamo, this is Cooper.”

   “Go ahead.”

   “We've found a body. Request permission to bring it back to Alamo.”

   “Granted, but be careful.”

   Before Cooper could reply, a blinding flash of light seemed to sweep across his field of vision, and roaring static started to break into his headset, loud enough that he couldn't make out anyone at the other end. Someone was trying to tell him something, and seemed animated about it, but no matter how hard he strained, he couldn't hear. Then, for a brief second, the static cleared.

   “Power buildup!”

   Pointing at the exit, Cooper gestured for Hunt to leave, before picking up the body and taking it over his shoulder, careful not to drop it in front of any of the thrusters, then started to carefully guide himself back through the hole. More flickers of light started to appear, some of the ruined consoles attempting to burn into life.

   This shouldn't be possible. The ship had been dead, burned out, space-cold. Even if something had survived the disaster that destroyed it, the vessel was thousands of years old. Impossible for any equipment to last this long, not in a functional condition. It was surprising enough that they could even recognize any of it.

   His own suit sensors were picking up the build-up now, warning alarms beginning to sou
nd. It was hard for him to hold himself back, to resist the urge to fire his thrusters at full speed, but no matter what happened next, it would do no good at all if he smashed his suit against the hull. The static continued to roar, loud enough to drown out the vocal readouts in his helmet, and he turned off the useless communicator with the tap of a button.

   The body over his shoulder wasn't helping. It might not weigh anything, but the mass was cumbersome, changing his center of gravity, forcing his computer to make constant adjustments in a bid to keep him stable, keep him moving forward. At least he was out into the second compartment now, and could see the stars outside. Rhodes hovered at the exit, wordlessly urging him on, gesturing for him to hurry, before slowly sliding out of view.

   Urgent red text flashed onto his heads-up display. The ship was moving, decelerating, and he found himself heading dangerously towards the hull, burning his thrusters at full speed in a bid to keep him clear. He glanced at Hunt, who dived forward, throwing caution to the wind, hurtling through the gap in the hull and into free space.

   Encumbered as he was, Cooper didn't have that option. If the ship was slowing this quickly, then the science team would never get to it in time. All they'd get would be their quick observations, the empty spacesuit, and the body he was carrying. The whole point of their mission was to find out what was out here, to seek traces of the remorseless enemy hiding out in the void. He couldn't pass up this chance.

   A new set of alert lights flashed on his wrist, the thrusters beginning to cut into their emergency reserve, and he still had to get through the airlock. He could just see a suited figure outside, maybe Hunt, who seemed a long way away, his helmet light still shining at him. With one final push, he kicked through the gap and left the ship behind, his heart racing as he looked down to see the asteroid looming below him, the jagged mountains now only a matter of miles away.

   His navigation computer quickly told the story he didn't want to hear. While on the ship, he'd lost enough speed that he'd dropped below orbital velocity, and though his thrusters immediately turned him around to try and boost his speed, he simply didn't have the fuel to guide him to safety. He glanced back at the ship, watching it gracefully curve down towards its doom, a trail of fragments running behind it from a new gash at the rear.