Battlecruiser Alamo: Tip of the Spear Page 12

  "Working."

  The wait seemed endless; Weitzman continued to try and call the shuttle while Caine fidgeted at her chair, tapping on the arm rests as Bryant tried to convince the recalcitrant satellite to switch its focus over to the city. Finally a new shot hove into view on the main screen, and the focus zoomed into the shuttle fast enough to give her a trace of space-sickness. A pair of explosions tore into the ground by the shuttle, and she could just make out four bodies being dragged from the hatch and placed into a truck, an ATV such as the Legion used.

  "I can't raise anyone in Yreka at all! There's some sort of jamming field, and a really good one," Weitzman said. "Adaptive design, it's switching as fast as I can switch encryption codes."

  "Can you get anyone at all?"

  "Sub-lieutenant Orlova has been trying to call, wanting to know what is going on."

  "As soon as I know she will," Caine replied, then threw her hand across her eyes as a huge explosion flicked onto the screen, the shuttle erupting in smoke and flame. The ATV was clear, but the landing strip was a wreck.

  "I've got a signal!" Weitzman said. "Laser bounced off the satellite. Putting you through."

  A ragged voice came over the speaker, "Sergeant Clarke to Alamo. Come in, please!

  "Alamo here," Caine replied, "What the hell's going on down there?"

  "We were attacked twenty minutes ago, street gangs but well co-ordinated. We were putting them down when a force of legionnaires attacked us, hit and run. They grabbed Lieutenant Esposito and Lieutenant Orlov, then bugged out. What was that explosion, ma'am?"

  Caine was silent, and it was left to Ryder to reply, "They just blew up the shuttle, Sergeant. Taking the Captain and Lieutenant Cunningham, as well as Acting Ensign Riley."

  "Christ."

  Ryder looked across at Caine, then back at Weitzman, who shrugged. "What's your immediate situation, Sergeant?"

  "We're secure, so is the City Council. I think the gangs are fading back into the undergrowth. We should have everything under control in a couple of hours."

  "Right. Make that a priority, let Alamo know if you need any reinforcements and we'll get some to you."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Satellite going over the horizon, ma'am," Bryant said.

  "See what you can do about the jamming field, Sergeant, and try to take it intact." As the channel faded, she turned to Caine, "What are your orders, ma'am?"

  A haunted look on her face, Caine swung from a handhold, clenching her free hand into a fist. Long seconds passed before she replied, "Notify Orlova, move the troops around as necessary, and have Varlamov prepare to face an attack." She shook her head. "You have the bridge, Ryder. I'm going down to my office."

  Ryder's eyes widened, "Ma'am?"

  "You have the conn, Sub-Lieutenant. I'll be up presently."

  Frowning, Ryder nodded, "Very good, ma'am."

  Caine pushed off towards the elevator and glided in as it opened. Her safety net was torn into shreds. Evidently the Legion had decided that the best course was to decapitate Alamo's leadership, and they'd managed to do a damn good job of it. With a jabbing finger, she paused the elevator on its track; being in her office wasn't going to help that much. This was worse than before; she genuinely had no idea what she could do next. Marshall missing, the ship in pieces with enemy vessels on the way, and the situation on the surface falling down around her. She hung in the middle of the elevator, staring at the wall, and unthinkingly released the switch, letting the elevator continue to her destination.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Crouching around the communicator, Orlova and Zabek were following the battle taking place in Yreka, picking up snatches of communications from the troops as they finished clearing the gangs from the cramped streets. Periodically, one or the other would contact Alamo, but no-one up there seemed to know anything more than they did – and there was a disturbing lack of any sort of command. Ryder was sitting on the bridge, and seemed to be every bit as frustrated as Orlova.

  Sergeant Forrest poked his head in through the door, "Any news, Sub?"

  "Nothing intelligible."

  "We've got the boats ready to move out, ma'am."

  Zabek looked up at the old veteran, "What's the point? By the time we could get there the battle will be over, one way or another. Unless there's any prospect of a shuttle pickup?"

  Shaking her head, Orlova replied, "I've been trying to whistle one up, but no-one seems to know what the hell is going on. We just lost one shuttle, and the others are both up at Alamo. I suppose that makes most sense at the moment, in case Caine decides to evacuate." She looked up at the ceiling, "Come on, Deadeye, make a damn decision."

  Looking across at Orlova, Zabek said, "You're the senior officer on-planet now, ma'am."

  "And if I had a shuttle, I'd damn well...," her eyes widened, and she turned to the sergeant, still standing at the door, "Battle stations! Everyone ready for action, right now!"

  The look on his face made it obvious that Forrest had no idea why his commanding officer had suddenly decided to panic, but he was too seasoned a veteran not to obey such an order immediately, and he started to bark out orders as he ran from the room. Zabek had no such experience, and her lips started to curl in an incredulous frown as she watched the sergeant run.

  "I'm missing something," she said.

  "You said it yourself. I'm the senior officer on-planet now, and no offense intended, the only one with any real combat experience."

  The young midshipman's mouth widened, "Damn. You're the only piece of the puzzle..."

  "And we know they've been going out of their way to knock out any early warning we have."

  Racing from the room, Zabek sprinted towards the central tower, hand over hand scaling the tower to the observation platform, almost knocking the duty guard over the rail in her eagerness to get to her post. Orlova jogged into the compound, looking around the hastily constructed garrison; a trio of barracks made of standard interior hull material, a pair of smaller buildings, one her office, one the communications shack, and the observation tower, all of it surrounded by a thrown-together stockade made of crudely chopped pieces of wood.

  The shuttle that had delivered the base components had burned out a killing zone around the area, sweeping away the undergrowth in a fifty-meter radius around the compound with its landing thrusters, but that didn't seem anything like large enough to Orlova. Another on the long list of jobs that they hadn't had time to properly finish.

  "No sign of anyone!" Zabek yelled.

  "Keep a sharp look-out." Orlova walked over to one of the weapons lockers, pulling out a plasma rifle and activating the power-up cycle, watching the lights all flicker from red to green. Hefting its comforting weight, she started to make her way over to the perimeter, moving from one fire team to another. Most of the soldiers seemed grateful for something to do; all of them knew about what was going on in Yreka and ached to be there with their comrades, those that didn't simply want to get away from this planet for good.

  Forrest pointed at the horizon, "Look, up in the sky!"

  Everyone's eyes followed his finger, tracing a line from it to a small black dot that seemed to be growing larger; and now that she was listening for it, Orlova could hear a dull whine, one that she had heard once before on this planet. Putting the rifle to her shoulder, she lined up the cross-hairs and pulled the trigger, a ball of plasma leaping out over the jungle towards the approaching biplane. It made for a satisfying explosion, but just before she fired, someone jumped out of it, parachuting down into the jungle.

  "Good shot, sub," Grant yelled from his spot on the barricade.

  Smiling back, Orlova replied, "Thanks, Private."

  Instinct sent her falling to the ground, rolling into cover, as the rattle of machine gun fire opened up from the trees; bullet holes raced up the side of one of the barracks behind her as she started to crawl towards the nearest piece of cover. The biplane had been nothing more than a decoy, a ruse to distract her. A fusi
llade of plasma bolts rained hell onto the jungle nearest them, but all they managed to do was start fires, sending smoke billowing into the air, and the machine guns continued to fire.

  Crouching behind a crate that seemed awfully flimsy, Orlova tried not to concern herself with the volley of fire that was heading in her direction. They weren't interested in the base as a whole, that was clear; this was an assassination attempt, not an assault. More plasma bolts rained into the undergrowth, but it wasn't doing any good – all that smoke was providing great cover for the snipers, and making it harder and harder to see the enemy. She looked up at the tower, and saw Zabek turning her plasma rifle towards her; she froze in place, her mouth opening as the midshipman fired.

  Three bolts slammed into the ground around her, one of them just in front of the crate; the resulting blast created her own protective layer of smoke, and with a wild grin on her face she sprinted for the safety of the communications room, ducking and diving in order to evade a pair of machine gun bursts fired blind in her direction. Peering through the window, she looked out at the smoke and flame billowing out from the jungle, the machine gun bursts beginning to peter out.

  A minute later, Zabek burst in through the door, "I think they've pulled back."

  Orlova looked up at the panting midshipman, shaking her head, "You scared the hell out of me back there. Good shooting, though."

  The rattling of machine gun fire was slowing to a crawl, and Orlova made the leave the room, restrained by an arm thrown across the door by Zabek. After shooting her a withering look, she dropped her arm and allowed her to leave; she walked back out into the compound, looking from left to right. A fire team was poking its way out into the smoke, cautiously seeing if there was any trace of the enemy. As she watched, the leader – Grant, again – raised his arm.

  "Couple of bodies over here. Close hit by the looks of it."

  Shouting after the group, Orlova said, spluttering through the smoke, "Pull back to the perimeter, Grant. They'll be just as dead tomorrow."

  Forrest, his eyes darting around as if hunting targets, came over to the pair, "You need to get back inside, sub, preferably with a fire team covering you."

  "I'm not going to do any good hiding under a table, Sergeant." Looking back at the concerned faces of Zabek and Forrest, she said, "I probably should contact Alamo, though."

  Walking over to the communications hut, she was conscious of the fear she was now feeling from the jungle. There could easily be a Legion sniper waiting for her to make a move; she knew that most likely the plasma fire had forced them to retreat from the flames, but that base fear still lingered as she walked over to the transmitter. She heard boots stepping to attention outside; Forrest had been as good as his word and put a guard on her.

  "Orlova to Alamo."

  Ryder's voice replied, "We saw gunfire. What's going on?"

  "You still minding the store?"

  "For the moment," the sub-lieutenant said in frustration. "Everything's going crazy up here."

  "We're not having much fun down here either, Ryder. We just got attacked by a group of legionnaires, and it was pretty obvious that I was the target they had in mind. They've been repulsed, at least for the moment, but I want another shuttle here as soon as possible to burn us a wider killing zone. Never mind a hundred meters, I want a good clear two hundred meters."

  "By the look of the fire you started most of that's going to be done for us, but I'll get it done. Shuttle Two's on its way back down now; I'll have it stop off."

  "What are its orders?"

  "It was supposed to be heading out to pick up Varlamov and his platoon, move then in with Kozu to reinforce the city."

  Shaking her head, Orlova replied, "That's crazy. Varlamov can't take command down there, he's greener than the jungle."

  After a brief pause, Ryder said, "I don't think anyone's been thinking straight up here."

  "Have the shuttle land here. I'll leave Forrest in command of the fort, at least for the moment, and I'll go over and take command myself."

  "I'm not sure we can risk a shuttle landing."

  "By the time the shuttle gets here, Clarke should have everything under control out there."

  "Then why the rush?"

  "Have you looked at the status reports the Captain was filing? Right now there are half a hundred petty politicians trying to work out what to do – and let's not forget that the representative of the Council of Captains just got captured as well. Unless someone's going to come down and take over, I'm senior down here."

  "I'll cut the orders. I just hope you know what you are doing."

  "Fine. If you get any instructions from Caine, let me know immediately."

  "Will do. Alamo out."

  Orlova dropped the microphone to the desk, walking over to the door and shouting, "Zabek!"

  The midshipman came running, shouting a couple of quick orders to one of the fire teams, "Yes, ma'am?"

  "We've got a shuttle coming down in less than half an hour. Have the men throw out some beacons for a landing pad out in the cleared area."

  "Right."

  "I'm leaving Sergeant Forrest in command."

  The young midshipman's face fell, but she nodded, "Understood."

  "You'll be coming with me as my adjutant. In the event something happens to me, you'll have to take over. Given how many people seem to be gunning for senior officers at the moment, that seems a realistic possibility."

  Disappointment turned to shock on the young woman's face, "Wait a moment. If you get killed, then I'm in command down here?"

  "Realistically. I doubt Caine's going to strip anyone else from Alamo. Most likely that means you get to organize a rather hasty evacuation."

  Shaking her head almost spasmodically, Zabek collapsed down on a chair. "Sub-lieutenant, I'm a screw-up. Last in my class at the Academy, which I left four months ago. I'm not even ready to head a shift on the bridge, and I'm certainly not ready for this."

  With a laugh, Orlova replied, "I never even went to the Academy. You're ready for this because you are wearing a pip on your shoulder that says you are ready for this, and you are ready for this because I'm telling you that you are ready for this, but there is a factor that is far more important than either of those."

  "What?"

  "There's no-one else around to do the job. I find that a fairly frequent motivation to improvement." She clapped her gently on the shoulder, "Now go and get your kit, we'll be taking off as quickly as possible. I don't want to have any shuttles down on the ground for any longer than I can help."

  "Aye, ma'am."

  "And tell Grant and his fire team to pack up as well; I'm taking them with me. I figure we can strip a few more people from this base who know what they are doing."

  "Aye, aye, ma'am."

  As the midshipman walked out of the office, Orlova looked down at the communicator again. "Come on, Caine. Do something."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A rhythmic pounding echoed on the door of Caine's office; she'd been ignoring it, but whoever was outside was obviously not going to go away. She stopped typing, saved the letter she was working on, and opened the door to see a red-faced Dixon floating outside, Quinn sheepishly taking up her rear. Smiling, she gestured them in; Dixon hadn't waited, diving through the door and hanging in the air.

  "In case you hadn't noticed, you're in command of the ship. Why is Ryder sitting on the bridge by herself? Or failing that, why didn't you call me and tell me to get up there. I wouldn't have wasted so long getting the squadron stowed away if I'd known what was going on."

  "We don't know what's going on at the moment."

  "Two of our ground installations are under attack, half a dozen of the crew have been kidnapped, including all of the senior officers – and by god, that was one hell of a job of decapitation, their intelligence people really must know what they are doing – and you are sitting here typing out reports. What is that, anyway?" Dixon snatched the datapad off her desk, scanned it, and tossed it
to Quinn. "You damn fool."

  "I'm resigning." She raised a hand, "It takes effect as soon as we get back, but if you really want it, you can have this job now."

  That silenced the brash pilot. Quinn glided in a little further, and the door closed behind him; he tossed the datapad back towards Caine.

  "We're in the middle of a major crisis, and all you can think about is handing in your resignation. Hell, things are looking a little difficult, why don't I resign too? Everyone can resign, we can give command to Harper. She's the junior enlisted, isn't she? There'd be no one left for her to resign to."

  Smiling, Caine replied, "It's certainly made me feel better, Dixon. Mr. Quinn, what is the status of the repairs?"

  "We won't be finished in time."

  "Is there no chance at all of getting us ready, at least to limp away from here?"

  The engineer shook his head, "I thought of that, but we're too reliant on the starport for repairs. We simply can't do most of this while we're underway."

  Tapping a button on her desk, Caine said, "Ryder, any word from the planet?"

  "Lots, and all of it bad. Orlova's heading to Yreka to assume command of the ground forces from there. Any orders?"

  "Find the Captain and get him back. That's her top priority right now."

  Dixon shook her head, "You're going to cut and run."

  "I'm certainly going to have a damn good try at it, Lieutenant. If we can get the crew back into one piece again, well, that's a start." She pushed another datapad across, "Medical report on Lieutenant Dietz. It could have been a lot worse, but he's going to need weeks in hypno-therapy. We've got the tools for the job on board, but it's going to take time. He certainly isn't in any condition to assume command."

  She looked at the two of them, "I don't think either of you appreciate just how bad our situation actually is. We're on a ship that can't leave the system, the planet's political situation is imploding, the legion's forces seem to be launching a series of extremely well-targeted counter-attacks that about have me convinced that we have a spy on board, and an enemy vessel – or maybe even more than one – is heading for us, and will be on us in less than a week. Our options are running dry."