Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor Page 10

   Despite some worrying creaks, the cable held, doing its job. As the hatch disappeared from view he saw it burst open, Lane looking down with her pistol raised; he braced himself for a shot that would kill him no matter what happened – if he let go, he’d fall for a third of a mile. There wouldn’t be much left of him at the end. A hand slapped her wrist, and she turned out of the hatch, shouting as he faded from view. Someone had just saved his life.

   Now he had to take advantage of it. If he’d picked the right hatch, he was on his way to the zero-gravity core of Alamo, the uninhabited heart of the ship. There were excellent reasons why it wasn’t occupied; most of it contained the materials storage and fuel tanks, and the rest was primarily the relay systems for the hendecaspace drive and the laser cannon. It wasn’t a healthy place to be, but it was a maze of shafts and tunnels dug into the hull around the primary systems, and it was the area with the least surveillance. Even a full platoon of espatiers would struggle to find him in there.

   With a grunt, he collapsed onto the deck at the bottom, rebounding back in the low gravity. He pushed the cable away, watching it curl up towards the hatch. His arm was beginning to hurt badly, but he couldn’t do anything about it yet; time enough to seek out a first aid kit as soon as he had got away.

   Taking a corridor at random, he pushed off, using his good hand to speed his path. Swinging under a sign marked ‘Danger of Death’, he ducked into a side shaft, behind a series of of storage crates, then twisted down another, and a fourth. With no sign of pursuit, he could relax a little; locked to the wall was a box with a red cross emblazoned on it, and he snapped it open and rummaged around for a painkiller, bandages and dressings drifting out into the corridor.

   Stabbing pain was rapidly replaced with mild tranquility, and he rummaged through a series of bandages for the right fit, ripping the remainder of his sleeve off to expose the wound. It felt a lot worse than it actually was; the bullet had passed through his arm cleanly, entry and exit wounds both neat. Treating it still took five minutes, and he paused for a second, taking time to breathe.

   Then he panicked again; a blinking light indicated that the inventory system was being updated, and it wouldn’t take a genius to work out that he was the only one who would be using the first aid kits in the central core. A clock on the wall gave him another reason to hurry; while Alamo was in normal space it was a bad idea to linger in this area without protective equipment, but in hendecaspace this place would be truly uninhabitable. That meant he had only three and a half hours to find a more permanent place to hide.

   He paused for a moment, thinking over his options. Clearly someone on the outside was helping him, though he didn’t think the Captain would have been quite so direct as to toss him a pistol and leave the door to his cell open. There was only one thing to do – take the risk to actually contact someone on the outside, try and get some assistance, at least to make sure that he wouldn’t show up on any detectors when he got back. He could lurk around the maintenance shafts for as long as he wanted, but that wasn’t going to catch the saboteur.

   Kicking down the corridor, he quickly found what he wanted – a communications link. It took a few moments to encrypt it, bouncing it around as many terminals as he could to try and buy some time. Taking a deep breath, he tapped in a sequence.

   The voice of Barbara, his girlfriend, sounded through the corridor, “Bradley here.”

   “Barbara, it’s me.”

   “Gabe, what the hell is going on. Orlok talked to me earlier…”

   He interrupted her, saying, “There isn’t much time. Someone just broke me out of detention, and I’ve got no idea who it was. You need to get to the Captain, and you need to do it right now. Tell him that I am loose and that I intend to carry out my mission, but I’m going to need someone riding shotgun on the outside to help me do it.”

   “Your mission?”

   “I can’t talk over this line. It’s secure at my end, but you are probably a few moments away from a visit from some people with guns. I hate to do this to you, but you’ve got to get moving.”

   “I’ll do my part. Just tell me what the hell is going on sometime, will you?”

   “As soon as I can. I’ll call you when I can. Out.”

   Less than a minute, hopefully not long enough for anyone to get to him, though undoubtedly they were tracing the communication signal. Pausing for a second, he smiled as he set the console to start randomly contacting people on Alamo, one after another. There wouldn’t be any encryption, but all he was trying to do was buy some time.

   While he still had three hours before he had to leave the central core, he was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. He had to trust that Barbara would be able to get to the Captain before Lane could get to her; at this point she was his top suspect. Pushing off down a corridor, he raced towards the nearest lock, opening it as he flew past. Right now he was working on distractions rather than trying to escape; that would come in a moment.

   Twisting down a long corridor wrapped around the laser mounting, trying to avoid the delicate equipment that could knock Alamo’s primary weapon out of action, he found the route he wanted – right to the cargo bays, where he could hide amidst a maze of crates and containers. They’d have to almost unload to complete a systematic search, and it would buy him time to think for a little.

   Pausing at the hatch for a second for a last look around, he slid up the corridor, pulling himself up the ladder, feeling the usual slight uneasiness as he ascended into gravity, the climb taking more and more effort on his wounded arm until finally he was gasping for breath, hanging onto a rail with his good hand and looking down. If he fell, it would probably lead to his capture, and certainly cost him valuable time. Assuming he didn't just break his neck.

   Redoubling his efforts, Cooper scrambled up the remaining rungs of the ladder, finally reaching the hatch. His trembling fingers worked the mechanism and he pulled himself up to the deck with one last effort, half-expecting to hear sirens and shouts, the crack of bullets and the noise of approaching troopers.

   The only thing surrounding him was crates. He sat where he was, panting, and suddenly realized that he was starving. A foray into a nearby box provided him with an emergency ration pack, and though under normal circumstances he would have groused about it, he was only too glad to scoop up the goo with the almost-crackers. An RFID scanner had been left lying around, and he ran it over the pistol, curious as to the identity of his benefactor.

   It did not surprise him in the slightest to find that the label read, ‘Cooper, Lance-Corporal G.’

  Chapter 12

   “Where the hell did you get this, Danny?” Marshall’s father said as he kicked back another slug of purple gin, lounging on the chair in his quarters.

   “A friend of mine on Ragnarok shipped me a few bottles before we left on our last mission.”

   “Friend?”

   “She was Prime Minister last time I looked, though I think it’s probably Senator now.”

   Shaking his head, his father said, “Damn it, I never knew any politicians well enough that they would send me anything but poison in a bottle.”

   “Drink enough of that, and it’s exactly what you’ve got.”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “I still can’t quite believe I’m sitting here in your cabin, with you as commander of your own battlecruiser. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back on Discovery, all of this just a dream.”

   “Good or bad?”

   “It’ll be better once we set a course for home.” Before he could say anything else, alarms started to sound throughout the ship, snapping the two of them to attention. Marshall swallowed a couple of pills, sobering up instantly, cursing under his breath for the waste of good alcohol, and stabbed a button on the wall.

   “Marshall to bridge. Report.”

   “Kibaki here, sir. Corporal Cooper has broken out of confinement.”

&n
bsp;  “How the hell did he manage that?”

   “I don’t know, sir. Lieutenant Lane reports that she is on his tail.”

   Glancing at his father, he replied, “Tell her to proceed with caution, and that she is to use non-lethal force only.”

   “I can’t get her on the communicator, sir,” the frustrated watch officer replied, “I’ve got no idea what the hell is going on down there.”

   There was a loud banging on the door, someone obviously trying to get in. Marshall tapped to open the door, and Spaceman Bradley ran in, red-faced and panting, looking around the corridor as she darted inside.

   “Keep trying, Kibaki. I’ll call you back in a minute.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “Well, Bradley, what brings you here at this hour of the night?”

   She glanced at his father, then said, “Can I talk?”

   Nodding, Marshall replied, “Yes, you might as well.”

   “You want me to leave?” his father said.

   “No, you might as well know about this as well. Speak up, Spaceman.”

   “I’ve spoken to Cooper, sir. He’s on the run. Told me that he was going to attempt to continue his mission, but he needs some backup to prevent him from getting caught.”

   “Did he say how he got out?”

   “Only that someone broke him out, sir. I think he presumed it was you.”

   Shaking his head, he replied, “It wasn’t me.”

   “Cooper was working for you all the time. Why did he kill Matsumoto?” his father said, frowning.

   “He didn’t,” Marshall replied. “Bradley, is someone after you?”

   “I think so, sir. I just got to the elevator in time.”

   The door burst open again on a security override, and Steele ran in, gun in hand, waving it dangerously around. Marshall bolted to his feet, staring down at her.

   “Sub-Lieutenant, stand down!”

   “Lieutenant Lane…”

   “Unless you want to be busted down to Recruit Spaceman, holster your damn sidearm! Spaceman Bradley is here at my orders.”

   “Sir?”

   “At my orders, Sub-Lieutenant, and I have grown surprisingly accustomed to them being carried out. Return to your quarters.”

   “Cooper has escaped, and I…”

   His voice booming, Marshall said, “Confine yourself to your quarters until the start of your next duty shift, Sub-Lieutenant, or you can take the vacant spot in the brig!”

   Looking down at the deck, she nodded. “Yes, sir.” As she slinked out of the room, Marshall turned back to his father.

   “Could I ask that you escort Spaceman Bradley back to her quarters. I have the horrible feeling that she’s going to be in need of a chaperon.”

   “You might be right about that,” he replied. “Come along, Spaceman. My boy seems to have his work cut out for him.”

   They cautiously walked out of his quarters, and Marshall tapped the communicator again, “Kibaki, you up there?”

   “It’s me, Danny,” Caine said. “I came up when the alarm sounded.”

   “I think you know what we need to do about Cooper.”

   “Already under-way. I’ve had a word with Lieutenant Bailey, and the security precautions are all in effect.”

   “Meanwhile,” Marshall sighed, “we’ve got Lieutenant Lane and her Merry Men running around the lower decks. Any idea where they might be?”

   “Somewhere in the sensor section, probably. Cooper was last seen heading for the central core.”

   “The central core? That guy’s got guts, I’ll give him that.”

   “Do you want me to postpone jump until we know he’s clear?”

   Pausing for a moment, Marshall shook his head, “We can’t risk it. Jump as soon as you are ready.”

   “Right. Are you coming up?”

   “No, I’m heading down to the lower levels.”

   “That’s a bit of a risk. Want me to whistle up some assistance for you?”

   “That won’t be necessary, Deadeye.”

   “Perhaps I should put it a little more clear. If you are going to head out into harm’s way, you need someone watching your back. I just paged Zebrova and she’s on her way to you now.”

   “Thank you, Captain Caine.”

   “Don’t swear, it doesn’t suit you. Be careful.”

   “Will do. Marshall out.”

   When he walked into the corridor, Zebrova was waiting for him, pistol prominently in the holster at her hip. They turned down towards the elevator, not exchanging words until they were safely out of everyone’s earshot.

   “Captain,” she began, but Marshall interrupted her.

   “I didn’t break him out. I didn’t ever contemplate it, and even if I had, I would have informed you first.”

   Nodding, she replied, “Thank you, sir.”

   Pulling out his communicator, he said, “I suppose I might as well give this a try.” Punching a button, he said, “Marshall to Lane. Come in.” After a moment waiting in vain for a response, he replaced it at his belt. “She isn’t answering.”

   “There could be any number of reasons. Some of them legitimate.”

   “I’m sure there will be some plausible excuse.”

   “No doubt,” she replied.

   The elevator opened at the sensor decks and they walked out, trying not to look dangerous. Marshall’s eye was immediately drawn to a patch of red near one of the lower hatches; kneeling down at it, he looked up at Zebrova.

   “Looks like she’s serious about bringing him down.”

   “To be fair, sir, we are talking about a dangerous felon who has already killed, and has close-quarters combat training. I can see why taking additional care might appear justified.”

   “Come on,” Marshall said. “I just hope she hasn’t killed him.”

   They ran down the corridor, and the crack of a bullet sent Marshall flying to the ground, instinct sending him rolling into cover. Zebrova was just behind him, her gun in her hand ready to return fire.

   “Stand down!” Lane’s voice yelled. “It’s the Captain.”

   “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Marshall said. “Consider yourself on report!”

   “We’re hunting down a dangerous felon, Captain,” she replied. “Cooper has escaped…”

   “I know, but that doesn’t mean I want gangs of vigilantes roaming around the lower decks looking for him. Who’s with you?”

   “Privates Duggan and Duvalier, sir, and I must report that I will be preferring charges against them both for insubordination.”

   “Duggan, Duvalier, all charges are summarily dismissed as of now. Get back to your barracks and stay there unless I personally send for you. Is that understood?”

   Duggan replied, “Yes, sir.”

   “You’re acting Lance-Corporal for the moment, Duggan. Run along.”

   Climbing to his feet, brushing the dust from his trousers, Marshall walked over to the resentful Lane, standing at attention by the wall, her pistol back in its holster. She turned her head to face him.

   “Do you want Cooper captured, sir?”

   “Captured, yes. Killed, no. Effective right now, he is no longer your responsibility. He never was; this is the province of Lieutenant Bailey.”

   “Who I must confess I suspect of being Cooper’s confederate. As well as Spaceman Bradley and Lieutenant Caine.”

   Eyes widened, Zebrova said, “Are you suggesting a conspiracy involving two senior officers, both of whom have received several citations for gallantry – against, among others, the Cabal?”

   “I can only make my judgments based on the available evidence, sir, and I insist that an investigation is undertaken immediately. I am willing to place that request in writing.”

   Marshall turned to Zebrova, frowning. She actually had a point; all three of them were involve
d in a ‘conspiracy’ along with Cooper, and that the conspiracy’s goal was to unmask the saboteur was irrelevant. Not for a second did he consider bringing her in on the secret. Instead he nodded at Zebrova.

   “Very well. I must admit that, on circumstantial evidence at least, an investigation is warranted. Lieutenant Zebrova will undertake it during the jump. Until then I will take personal charge of the search for Corporal Cooper.”

   “Sir, I…”

   “Lieutenant, you’ve already decided there is a conspiracy. Unless you intend to accuse Lieutenant Zebrova and I of being involved, then you are not the choice for the job.”

   She looked between the two of them as if about to do just that, but decided against it at the last minute, replying, “Aye, sir.”

   “Return to your quarters, Lane.”

   “I’d rather help with the search, sir.”

   “And I’d rather you went and cooled off for a while. Try the observation lounge if you want. I need my officers to be sharp and ready for action, not flying off in all directions.”

   Nodding, she started to walk down the corridor. As she drew level with Marshall, she paused, saying, “I’m sorry I shot at you, sir.”

   “You missed, Lieutenant. That’s the main thing.”

   With a hurt expression on her face, she replied, “It was just a warning shot, Captain,” as she walked into the elevator. Shaking his head, Marshall looked after her.

   “Was she excusing herself for missing, do you think?” he asked Zebrova.

   “Maybe she’s eager for a promotion. Do you think she’s the saboteur?”

   “If she is, then she’s the best actor I’ve ever seen. She’s making herself such an obvious suspect that it would be the biggest double-bluff of all time.”

   “I agree, but we can’t bring her into the loop.”