Battlecruiser Alamo: Shadows in the Sky Read online

   On her heads-up display, a sensor blip appeared, a figure following her into the abyss. She glanced behind her, working her camera controls in a bid to get a look, but all she could tell was that it wasn't a crewman from Alamo. The guards and the other prisoners wore fundamentally identical spacesuits, in itself a matter that raised her eyebrow. Futilely, she tried her communicator again, only receiving the same roar of static in reply. Her beacon was still transmitting, but getting no further than the mouth of the cave. Belatedly, she turned it off. If she managed to escape, the last thing she needed was to guide her pursuers directly to her position.

   A final laser pulse caught the rock, and she tapped her thrusters to speed her descent, sending her dropping into a low spiral, down to the floor of the cavern. Before she could reach the button, she tapped another control to send her back up, diving into the nearest passage, flicking on her helmet light to reveal nothing but inky, endless blackness beyond, as far as she could detect. Her sensors showed turns and junctions aplenty ahead, and she entered a command into her suit computer to guide her on a random course, while she returned to her heads-up display, trying to work out her position.

   Pressure and gravity matched the readings they'd obtained from Clarke's descent. The surface was eighty miles away, and they were only twenty miles from the surface. She looked back at the shaft, but an attempt to break out that way would be doomed to failure. Even if she did manage to get past the guards once again, and her thruster fuel held out long enough to reach the gravity field beyond, Alamo was five hours away at best acceleration. The odds of any of their shuttles still being in serviceable condition seemed remote, certainly nothing she would want to bet her life on. Though even one brief signal back to the ship might be worthwhile.

   She allowed herself to drift on, only the suit computer monitoring her path, then glanced behind her to spot a shadow in the darkness, moving close by. Overriding the automatic controls, she gently guided herself into a tunnel her sensors told her curved back on itself, taking her back to the central corridor, then killed her velocity, drifting into a hole in the rock, killing her helmet lights.

   A figure moved on, the jumper from before, with a patch slammed over his leg where an angry black burn had ripped through the fabric. Convincing, but not conclusive, and with communications dead, she had no way of talking to him, finding out what side he was on. Her stealth was almost a waste of time if his on-board sensor package was anything like the match of hers, but the suit design was primitive enough that she thought she might have an advantage.

   Reaching out with her glove, the blade still in position, she waited for the figure to move past her, then slashed forward, missing the figure's suit by inches, reaching out with her other hand to snatch at his controls, stabbing what she thought was the pressure regulator, instantly cutting it to a level that would leave him unconscious in a minute. The figure quickly grew limp in his suit, and ceased to struggle, allowing Harper to drag him into cover, and look through his visor.

   Hanson. With bruises on his forehead from the battering given to him by the guards. The suit was a new model of an older type, but a quick check of the controls allowed her to slave the life support system to her pack, connecting a cord to interface the two computers. It was sluggish, slow, but after a few minutes she had drained all the information she could find from the figure.

   She looked at the rip again, and cursed under her breath. At first glance, she had thought that he was the luckiest man in the galaxy, that the beam had missed his leg while tearing his suit, but a cursory check revealed that the patch had been in position for long enough for the flexible outer seal to dry in place, more than ten minutes. There'd been no fighting on the surface. He had to have planned this, all in advance, perhaps with a spare suit waiting for him in the shuttle.

   The next step had to be swift. She reached into her pocket for a sensor drone, then downloaded the codes for Hanson's distress beacon onto it, setting it to randomly walk its way through the tunnels. It had enough fuel to last for hours in this gravity, more than enough time to lead any group of pursuers a merry chase, and put them well and truly off the scent. She tossed it into the air, watching with a smile as it drifted away, then looked up at the ceiling, her helmet light flashing back on.

   All the walls were covered with pictograms, the same design she had encountered on the surface, and her computer quickly began the translation process, warning of the low accuracy rate. One by one, words began to appear, but it would take the better part of an hour to decode them all. Not a problem. Time was the one thing she had plenty of. Her suit had enough air to last for forty hours, more if she was careful. Either it would all be over by then, or she'd have no choice but to turn herself in. A decision she would postpone until the last possible moment.

   Her sensor pinged for a moment, detecting figures in the darkness, a quarter-mile away, and for a heartbeat she thought that she'd been spotted, that somehow the guards had managed to track her in the gloom. She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when they turned away, obviously following the sensor into the deep caverns. As a bonus, she could switch into the data feed at will, get a good look at her pursuers. Five of them, all armed with normal rifles. Evidently the laser rifles were more for show than actual use.

   Content that she was safe, at least for the moment, she looked at Hanson's life support system again, and frowned. There didn't seem any chance that he could get away, but a little reprogramming of his suit control systems would lock him into the most secure prison she could imagine. That would take about as long as the translation, and allow her to wake the traitor up at her leisure. Pulling another datalink out of her pocket, she jabbed it into the access port in his pack, and smiled as data started to stream in.

   “Just relax, Lieutenant,” she muttered with glee. “Trust me, this won't hurt a bit.”

  Chapter 15

   Moran sat down at her desk, looking up at Salazar as he took the seat opposite her, one eye on the status panel overhead. Two of his troopers stood outside at parade rest, weapons at the ready, anxiously watching the corridor beyond. He placed his communicator down on the table, sliding a control to activate the speaker.

   “Salazar to Francis. Report.”

   “Bridge, Engineering, Weapons are all secured, sir. We're moving into close formation with Alamo, and estimate maneuver complete in ten minutes. Incoming ship will be arriving in the system thirty-one minutes later. All signs show two ships, cruiser-type, roughly the same scale as Endurance, if our readings are correct.”

   “Thank you, Lieutenant. Inform me immediately if there is any change.” Looking across at Moran, he continued, “Well, Major, the floor is yours.”

   She nodded, sighed, then said, “I should have told you from the beginning. Maxwell recommended it. I didn't think that I could take the risk, and I'd hoped that we'd have completed our mission before you'd have a chance to find out.” Sitting back in her chair, she continued, “I was an officer in the Hegemonic Fleet. We all were. Until eight months ago.”

   “What happened?”

   “An outbreak of sanity. I portrayed our people as being a peace-loving power. We aren't. When we arrived, as our documentation showed, we found another human race down there. Neander. I understand that you have some in your crew.”

   Nodding, Salazar said, “We made first contact with a Neander world five years ago. There are quite a few serving in the Fleet now, more in training. Thousands of citizens.”

   “And they are treated equally?”

   With a thin smile, he replied, “As equally as I'd treat any other Recruit Spaceman. With kid gloves and harsh language where needed. I take it that isn't true for your people?”

   “When Tempest, our colony ship, arrived in orbit, we immediately saw evidence of a primitive civilization on the surface. They'd barely learned how to smelt bronze, but there were orbital installations everywhere. We quickly learned that ther
e had been a global nuclear war, five hundred years before, enough to knock civilization all the way back to the Stone Age.”

   “And you decided to take advantage of the situation.”

   “It wasn't that way at first. We thought we were helping, bootstrapping them to our mutual advantage. Over time, it all went wrong. Gradually, they went from becoming our partners to our servants, then our slaves.” With a bitter laugh, she added, “The irony? At their height, they were centuries ahead of us. The faster-than-light drive we use was pieced together from old records, damaged in the Final War.”

   “What happened, eight months ago?”

   She sighed, and said, “I signed up for deep-space to get away from all of that. Maybe I hoped things might be different eventually, that as they caught up with us, equality would happen.”

   “More realistically, a massacre.”

   “Probably,” she replied with a nod. “We're heading for it, I think. And the worst part is that I don't know which side I'd be on.” Looking down at the deck, she continued, “We've found a few scattered worlds, but recently, we found another Neander world, and this one was on the verge of spaceflight, an expanding technological civilization.”

   “My God,” Salazar said. “Your people declared war, didn't they.”

   Nodding, she added, “Endurance was there. We refused to obey the order, tried to buy the locals as much time as we could, but in the end, there was nothing we could do. We jumped away, licked our wounds, and hid. Outlawed and hunted. Since then, we've engaged our old comrades five times, and the best we've been able to manage is a stalemate.”

   “You wanted to hide out on the Sphere?” Salazar asked. “Give up the fight?”

   “The thought had crossed my mind, but that wasn't the idea. We know that there are advanced civilizations in there, and some of them are Neander. I'd hoped to enlist some of them to help us, provide us with equipment, technology, volunteers, anything to give us an edge.” She ran her hand over her forehead, then said, “Though to be honest, I'm not sure what we're going to accomplish. If we do destroy the Hegemonic Fleet, the best-case is probably a massacre that will wipe out every non-Neander on the planet.”

   “Does that mean you're giving up?” Salazar asked. “And I think I can guess where we come in. You wanted to enlist us in your fight, or at least make use of our technological expertise in getting into the sphere.”

   “That's the idea,” she replied. “I was going to tell you more, as soon as I was convinced that I could trust you. We've been going over all of the information you sent us on your history, your culture. I had to be certain I wasn't inviting in a worse conqueror, but we've run out of time.” She paused, looking out at the corridor, then added, “As soon as we detected the incoming ship, I found myself facing a mutiny. A dozen key people, but it was enough to disrupt communications. My presumption is that they hoped to force the two of us into fighting each other, and they came a lot closer to accomplishing that than I feel comfortable with.”

   “I presume you have proof of all of this?” Salazar asked.

   “My team are compiling it now...”

   “Not enough,” he replied. “You will give Senior Lieutenant Francis complete and unfettered access to your systems, and if I find that there is so much as a gigabyte he doesn't have access to, my people will remain in control.” He paused, then added, “The surface team?”

   “We know that the Hegemony has some people inside the Sphere. We've been visiting since we first discovered it, more than a decade ago. I didn't have any idea how many, but they must be behind the capture of our people. It's the only explanation that makes any sense.” Leaning forward, she said, “Captain, I know that I haven't given you many good reasons to trust us, and I know that you could simply walk away from this...”

   “That's one thing I can't do,” he replied. “Not with my people captured down there, and certainly not with a ship coming into the system. I assume that one of your ships has decided to come looking, and that they are the same people who destroyed Monitor?”

   “I assume so,” she replied. “If I'd anything definitive, I'd have told you. Hell, it would have been to my advantage, given you more of a reason to join our fight. I had no reason to lie about that. But the weaponry is consistent with some of our heavier cruisers, and they did lose a ship out here about four months ago. If it is any consolation, your people arranged their own revenge.”

   “Revenge won't bring them back,” Salazar replied, rubbing his eyes. “So let me get this straight. You've dragged us into the middle of a civil war, and expect us to intervene on the losing side, with the reward for victory the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians, and have managed to get a dozen of my people locked into a technological artifact the like of which neither of us have ever seen.”

   “That's about it, yes.”

   Taking a deep breath, Salazar replied, “I don't have any more latitude in this than you do. I'm operating independently, which does give me a little more freedom of action, but we're going to have bad guys coming into the system in a matter of moments, and I have the idea that they won't be discriminating between us. We're stuck with your war whether we like it or not.”

   A smile spread across Moran's face, and she said, “Then you will help us.”

   “Let's just say that we're in an alliance of convenience for the moment, and leave it at that for the time being.” Raising a hand, he added, “Don't get the idea that all of this is going your way. I still don't completely trust you, so these are my terms. First of all, one Espatier squad will remain on board until further notice, and they will be monitoring all areas. Senior Lieutenant Francis and Midshipman Petrova will also remain, and I assure you that they will be watching your actions extremely carefully, with orders from me to assume command of Endurance if they think it necessary. Tactically, we will operate as a two-ship squadron, and I will be in command of the formation. This arrangement to hold until after the fight. We can talk again later about a longer-term relationship. As far as I am concerned, my priorities remain the same. To recover my people, protect my ship, and find a way back to our own galaxy. Anything else would be a nice bonus prize.”

   She nodded, then said, “Right now, I suppose that's about the most I can hope for.”

   Salazar's communicator chirped again, and Scott's voice echoed through the room.

   “Emergence in fifteen minutes, Captain.”

   “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he replied. “I'm on my way.” Looking at Moran, he added, “Send over all tactical data on ships in your fleet, with a strong emphasis on any exploitable weaknesses.”

   “Will do, Captain. And thank you.”

   “Good hunting, Major,” he replied, walking out into the corridor, turning towards the docking airlocks. Francis was waiting for him outside, arms crossed, with an Espatier standing behind him as bodyguard.

   “I take it the meeting went well?” Francis asked.

   “As well as could be expected,” Salazar replied, taking the lead down the corridor. “At least the problem reduces down nicely. Kill two enemy ships. A tactical problem like that I can deal with. We can sort out the politics later.” He paused, then said, “Go over their database with as much detail as you can in the time we have.”

   “I'm not going to be able to get anything definitive in fifteen minutes. Not with a battle coming up, and troopers running all over the place.” He shook his head, then added, “I haven't even had a proper chance to check over the ship's schematics yet.”

   “You want me to send any more people over?”

   Shaking his head, Francis said, “With Foster, Harper and Mortimer off the ship, I think you're short-handed enough as it is. We'll manage with what we've got. I'm hoping that my role will consist of standing at the back of the bridge and pretending that I've got some idea about what I'm doing. Basically the same as usual.”

   Cracking a smile as he stepp
ed into the airlock, Salazar replied, “I wasn't going to be the first one to say that.” Pausing before working the mechanism, he added, “Good hunting, Max. And don't get too far from that bodyguard of yours. I don't exactly trust Moran yet.”

   “Neither do I,” he said. “Though if her story is true...”

   “How much of it did you hear?”

   “I might have been listening in over the communicator,” Francis replied. “If her story is true, Captain, then what are you going to do about it? Granted that we have a significant technological advantage over Hegemonic vessels, they'll have us outnumbered a hundred to one, and we'll still have the problem of what to do if we win the war.”

   “Your judgment?”

   “The same as yours. That getting home has to be our top priority, though I suppose it has occurred to you that Cosmograd isn't that far away, and that sooner or later the Hegemony will make it out that far. Though I suppose the sphere remains a safe haven.”

   Nodding, Salazar replied, “I can't help but think that Captain Orlova might have come to the same conclusion, and so far we've heard nothing from any potential survivors. I suppose it's possible that they managed to get lost in there somewhere, but until further notice, we stay on Alamo.” With a sigh, he added, “Let's just get this battle out of the way first. We might know a lot more afterward, and be in a better position to make some sort of informed decision.”

   “Or, of course, they might beat us.”

   “In which case all of this ceases to concern us in any case.” He looked down the corridor, and said, “If it all goes to hell, if you really don't have any other choice, try and make it down into the sphere. At least it will give us a chance to regroup. But only as a last resort.”

   “Understood,” Francis said. “Good luck.”

   “And to you.”

   Salazar slid into the pilot's couch, throwing the controls to release the docking clamps and send the shuttle on its way to Alamo, tactical updates flooding the screen. For once he left the autopilot to work alone, guiding him home, while he concentrated on the battle to come. Months ago, Captain Orlova had almost certainly faced the same basic problem, and the result had been a wrecked ship and a lost crew. They'd yet to find any evidence that there had been any survivors. The absence of dead bodies wasn't necessarily conclusive, not after all those months.