Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament 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

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  FINAL TESTAMENT

  Battlecruiser Alamo: Book 19

  Richard Tongue

  Battlecruiser Alamo #19: Final Testament

  Copyright © 2016 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: May 2016

  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

  And when I come to the dim trail-end,

  I who have been Life's rover,

  This is all I would ask, my friend,

  Over and over and over:

  A little space on a stony hill

  With never another near me,

  Sky o' the North that's vast and still,

  With a single star to cheer me;

  Star that gleams on a moss-gray stone

  Graven by those who love me --

  There would I lie alone, alone,

  With a single pine above me;

  Pine that the north wind whinneys through --

  Oh, I have been Life's lover!

  But there I'd lie and listen to

  Eternity passing over.

  Robert Service

  Chapter 1

   The bullet cracked through the air, slamming into the bulkhead where scant seconds ago, Ensign Gabriel Cooper had been standing. Snatching his pistol free of its holster, he rolled behind the nearest cover he could find, looking to his right at the dead Neander lying next to him, his erstwhile guide through the lower levels of the salvaged transport. His would-be assassin was in the shadows beyond, careful to stay out of sight. With only eight shots, he didn't dare waste any.

   He reached down for his communicator, trying to get a signal through, but only static answered his urgent calls for help. Another bullet flew over his head, no attempt to kill him this time, just to keep him pinned in position. For all he knew, there were reinforcements on the way, cutting him off. Whatever he planned to do, he had to move quickly.

   The problem was that he had only a vague idea of his current location. The tour of the lower decks had been intended to familiarize him with the layout of this cavernous spacecraft, in the event that his unit would be called upon to reinforce the Neander in the event of a boarding action. There had been no sign of trouble, but he still cursed himself for going alone. He glanced again at his dead companion, wondering whether he had drawn him into a trap, or whether someone had lured them both to their doom. Not that it mattered now.

   With a wild roar, he jumped over the tangle of concealing cables, weaving from side to side and unleashing a precious shot in a bid to distract his opponent. All a show, theater intended to make an inexperienced opponent panic, to buy him the crucial second he needed to get within visual range. For a heartbeat, his foeman stood, silhouetted on the wall, and he brought him down with a single, well-placed shot to the arm, knocking his weapon from his hand.

   The Neander, an unfamiliar figure wearing a plain tunic, looked up at him, panic in his eyes, doubtless expecting the next shot to be placed between his eyes. Instead, Cooper reached down into his belt medikit, pulling out a tranq patch and slapping it on his neck. Instantly, the drugs took effect, buying him six hours to get him into custody. The bullet wound was nice and clean, easily bandaged. He wasn't going to die, not when he had such important questions to answer.

   Picking up the spare pistol, he tried his communicator again, but still all he could receive was a blast of static. Someone was jamming his signal. A quick rifle through the unconscious figure's pockets confirmed that he had another assailant on board, likely more. He looked around the corridors, trying to recall the layout of the deck. With no connection to a database, his datapad would be useless as a navigational aid. He was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

   Glancing at his watch, he frowned. In thirty minutes, he had an appointment with Kelot, the head of Ship's Security. As soon as he missed it, someone would try to contact him, and when that failed, a search would be instituted. All of which would take time, time he didn't have. He hoisted the unconscious attacker onto his back, grimacing at the load, a trickle of blood splattering down onto the carpet.

   At random, he walked down a corridor, gambling that he would find his way to an elevator before long. His hopes of using one of the wall-mounted comm units quickly evaporated as he reached the nearest, now a mess of tangled cables dropping down to the floor. Whoever did this, they'd planned it well. Far too well for his liking.

   The crack and the cry came together, as a second bullet slammed into the man he was carrying, the force of the impact sending them both tumbling to the ground. He was fast on the draw this time, aiming and firing with one smooth motion, the figure falling back lifelessly to the deck with blood spilling out of a wound on the side of his neck, his reply slamming into a light fitting, a shower of sparks cascading through the air.

   Rising slowly to his feet, Cooper looked at the dead man, his last breath a curse, before turning back to his erstwhile captive, killed by accident. Or perhaps the idea was to rob him of a prisoner, prevent an interrogation that might have solved the mystery.

   Gasping for breath, he pulled out his datapad and ran it over some writing on the wall. At least now he had some idea where he was, close to the primary fuel tank. He looked down at his pistol again, sliding it into his holster. This was a lousy place for a firefight. Leaving the bodies where they lay, he walked down the corridor, tugging out his communicator and setting it to continuous transmission.

   If he remembered correctly, there was a control room less than a hundred meters along the corridor, and though most of the crew were upstairs watching the trial of the traitor Lostok, there would be someone on duty. He moved with caution, hugging the walls, his eyes ranging through every potential ambush point. Two lives, three, had already been spent in a bid to kill him. It didn't seem reasonable that someone would give up so easily, and he couldn't risk assuming that he'd already ended the conspiracy.

   As he approached the room, sirens began to sound, and he raced along the carpet to the hatch, the door opening at a touch of the control to reveal a pair of panicking crewmen frantically working equipment. One of them turned to him, screaming at his sight, and he only belatedly realized that his uniform was covered in scarlet blood.

   “It isn't mine,” he said, stepping into the room. “Two people tried to kill me. I need you to contact...”

   “There isn't time,” the calmer one replied. “You're Cooper, aren't you?”

   “Yes.”

   “We've got a leak in the primary fuel tank. Growing by the second. Neither of us are experienced in EVA...”

   “I'm not an engineer,” he protested.

   “This isn't a maintenance job,” the technician replied. “It's sabotage
. Must be.”

   Grimly nodding, Cooper said, “Where's the airlock?”

   “Second on the left.” Gesturing at the shaken colleague, he added, “Leuka will show you and help you on with your suit. I'll need to monitor the controls from here.” He paused, then said, “And I'll alert the bridge about what happened. We've already got a security team coming, but they'll be too long. The damage is on this level.”

   “I'm on my way,” he replied, stepping through the door, Leuka uncertainly following him while her companion turned back to his controls. She doubled her pace to take the lead, shaking her head.

   “Those two people...”

   “You don't need to worry about them,” Cooper replied. “That's already taken care of.”

   “You killed them?”

   “Only one of them. The other was killed by his friend.” They stepped over to the airlock, Leuka tapping a release to send the door sliding open. Inside a rack of Neander spacesuits hung, and Cooper picked out the one that looked closest to fitting him, Leuka expertly tugging it apart, sliding it on a piece at a time.

   “Have you ever worn one of our suits before?”

   “Not in space,” Cooper said.

   She stopped, looked up, and replied, “This is crazy. Do you even understand our language?”

   “Maybe ten, twenty words. Most of them obscene.”

   “You won't even be able to follow the readouts!”

   With a shrug, he said, “Then I'll have to trust you to warn me if anything goes wrong. Come on, we've got to move, and quickly.”

   Shaking her head, she finished locking the pieces into position, then slid the helmet onto his head, clamping it in place. A series of blue and purple lights flashed up on either side of the readout, before all the text flashed out, leaving the heads-up display blank.

   “I turned it off,” Leuka said. “No point distracting you with a lot of gibberish. Can you activate the airlock.” At Cooper's nod, she added, “Get outside, and I'll guide you to the target, and watch your readouts.”

   “Thanks. Set up a communications patch with Kelot, and with Captain Orlova on Alamo.”

   “Will do,” she replied, tapping him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

   Turning, he stepped into the airlock, the inner door sliding shut behind him, the air pressure dropping away as the atmosphere was sucked out of the room. He hefted his pistol in his hand, fumbling the trigger guard away. The weapon would work in space, designed for all environments, but he still longed for a plasma weapon, something with real firepower.

   Then he remembered where he was planning to fight, and shivered inside at the thought of the damage a large hull breach would do. He stepped out onto the hull, snapping a safety line into position on a convenient hold-point by the airlock, the gently began to move forward. Without thruster controls, this was going to be difficult. Looking up across the long expanse of the ship, he spotted something up ahead, a figure maneuvering close to the hull. Leaning forward, he kicked out to send himself towards his prey, swinging from any handhold he could find to speed his progress, the cable at his belt reeling out.

   “Cooper, this is Leuka, do you read?”

   “I read you,” he said. “I have visual contact on target. I should be on him in ninety seconds.” He could just picked out a narrow stream of particles seeping out into space, and added, “I see the fuel leak as well. You'll need an engineering team.”

   “Already on the way,” a familiar voice said. “Orlova to Cooper, do you read?”

   “Loud, clear and relieved,” he said.

   “Kelot has a party heading your way right now, and Pavel Salazar is on his way on Shuttle Two with a combined engineering and Espatier team. Reinforcements will be with you in eight minutes. I recommend you monitor the situation and wait for the help before you engage.”

   “Not sure we have time for that, Captain,” he said. “Even without augmentation, I can see the leak getting bigger.”

   “There's a lot of spare capacity, Ensign.” She paused, then said, “Just be careful. We don't need any heroes today.”

   “Understood, ma'am,” he said. The figure looked up, facing in his direction, then continued with his work. Cooper was drifting down under him, and pushed back to try and correct his course. Without a guidance computer to help, this was next to impossible. His pistol would help, but only when he got close. The recoil was going to send him flying, especially without fine thruster control to compensate.

   “Sixty seconds to intercept, Ensign,” Leuka said. “All suit systems are green.”

   “Can you throw on a magnification filter?”

   She paused, then said, “On the target? Wait one.”

   The image on his screen abruptly jumped, as if he had instantly been thrown forward, giving him a close shot of the saboteur on the hull. Who was busily fitting some sort of box to the side, underneath the exposed outer hull. As far as he could tell, he was almost finished sealing it up again.

   “It's a bomb,” Cooper said.

   “An explosion in that part of the hull...”

   “Thrusters. I've got to get close to him.”

   “Ensign,” Leuka began, but he interrupted her.

   “Full power on the thrusters. Get me closer.”

   “Your suit doesn't have any!”

   “What?”

   “It's a light work-suit. Just for maintenance work.”

   “Fine,” he said. “Then give me a targeting solution.”

   A long, thin line flashed onto his resurgent display, running directly towards the target. He was drifting a little to the side, out of position, and corrected himself with a trio of kicks, lining up as smoothly as he could. Then, unclipping the safety line, he turned around, waiting until he was facing in the opposite direction, raising his pistol and pointing it in position. Taking a deep breath, he fired, the recoil from the explosion sending him hurtling forward.

   By a miracle, his unorthodox course correction was on target, only a couple of degrees out, and he dragged his leg briefly along the hull to compensate. He didn't dare turn to look at his prey, had no idea what he might do to stop him, but at least he'd reduced the waiting time down to a matter of seconds.

   The impact sent them both flying from the hull, the saboteur diving over him. Cooper swung around, taking a wild shot that caught him on the armor. It wasn't enough to puncture his suit, but it was more than enough to send him racing away from the ship. With a loud report, Cooper crashed into the hull, desperately reaching out for an antenna, swinging wildly around as he held himself alongside the ship.

   “Amber warning on your backpack,” Leuka said. “You're down to ninety minutes of oxygen. Main tank is jammed.”

   “Help will be here long before then, I hope,” he replied. He looked down, only a few meters from the bomb site, and started to crawl towards it. “Find someone who knows about bombs.”

   Orlova interrupted, “The engineering team...”

   “Will be too late. He was almost finished, and I'd bet that he was about to set the damn thing off.”

   He moved over to the device, almost completely buried in the hull. There was no obvious wire to cut, just a confusing tangle of buttons and controls, and a readout display flashing symbols he couldn't recognize. It didn't look as if it had been cobbled together, obviously purposely built for the job.

   “That's a shaped charge, a blasting charge, for mining,” Leuka's voice screamed. “Counting down to detonation.”

   “How do I stop it?”

   “Controls, fifth from left, third from right, second from top-left.”

   Nodding, Cooper poked the combination in place, fumbling in the unfamiliar gloves. Nothing seemed to change, the symbols flashing with greater frequency, and he shook his head.

   “What's next?”

   “That should have worked!” she replied. “Get out of there. Detonation in
fifteen seconds.”

   “Not yet,” he said, reaching for an abandoned tool, ripping at the hull, trying to pull some of the plates clear. Even if he couldn't stop the explosion, he might be able to mitigate it a little. “Warn me at five seconds.”

   “Get out of there,” Leuka said.

   “Count!” he yelled.

   “Nine seconds.”

   The saboteur had already done most of the work for him, freeing the antiquated outer skin, and he quickly ripped through the connections, dragging pieces away. The bomb seemed so small, the size of its outstretched hands, but that wasn't going to do the damage. The shrapnel would do that, erupting into space.

   “Five!”

   He fired his pistol, wildly, not caring where the bullets went, only the effect they would have on his speed. Tossing the empty weapon away for one final boost, he soared clear of the ship, well out of the danger area, but close enough to give him a perfect view. There was a brief flash, and a huge gash appeared in the ship, precious fuel erupting into space in a rapidly frozen fountain, the hulk falling away as the titanic vessel was thrown off trajectory.

   “Cooper to Alamo,” he said with a sigh. “Better get Shuttle Two to pick me up on its way in. Then we can start clearing up the mess.” He looked around, then saw a blue flash in the distance. A burst of Cerenkov radiation, from a ship entering the system. The Xandari had arrived.

   “Belay that pick-up, Alamo,” he said. “You've got bigger problems.” Shaking his head, he tried to relax. At least he'd have the best seat in the house to watch the battle.

  Chapter 2

   “Battle stations!” ordered Lieutenant-Captain Margaret Orlova, commander of the Battlecruiser Alamo, as her bridge crew hurried to prepare the ship for combat. A tactical display flickered into position over the holotable at the heart of the command deck, her three ships hovering close to the hendecaspace point, two enemy vessels closing on them rapidly.