Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword Read online

   Nodding, Powell said, “Given the data we have acquired from both factions...”

   “Where did you get the information on Skybase?” Kelgar asked. “I question whether or not it is accurate.”

   “I gave it to them,” Yorax replied. “Trust me, everything is correct.”

   Looking sharply at the veteran officer, Kelgar snapped, “That is a violation of...”

   “Gentlemen,” Orlova said, “I think those questions can wait until later, can they not? We need to focus on the major issues. Trust that the information is accurate for the present, and you can examine the methodology in more detail during our first recess.”

   “I am willing to proceed along these lines,” Poltis said, Vyram nodding in agreement. “I doubt very much whether the final result of the analysis will be in dispute in any case. Our people have made no secret of the desperate situation we face.”

   “What are you implying?” Kelgar asked.

   “Gentlemen!” Orlova said, hammering her gavel on the desk. “Please, permit Lieutenant Powell to provide his briefing.”

   “Thank you, ma'am,” Powell said. “To summarize, both factions lack the resources for long-term survival. Essentially, without an enhanced manufacturing base and secure access to raw materials, you will increasingly be unable to keep up your maintenance schedules, and more and more critical systems will fail.” He paused, and said, “Further, all of your colonies and outposts are well past their design lifespans, and your populations should be moved to new installations as soon as possible.”

   “Are you planning to gift us these bases?” Trant asked.

   “Every time we have attempted to build a new colony site, the Council has either stolen or attacked it. The base on Itix was one of ours,” Vyram said, “built with the sweat of our labor, and the imperialists stole it from us before we could use it. We would have shared, but they had to have it all.”

   “Our population is far larger than yours,” Kelgar countered. “And you built your base on our soil, territory claimed by our people for hundreds of years. You had no right to construct your outpost in the first place, and we had every right to seize an illegal installation in our territory.”

   Nodding, Powell said, “Precisely the problem, gentlemen. I have prepared a plan that might allow for your survival as a spacefaring power, though I must confess that it is a risky one.” Looking down at his datapad, he began, “First, you must construct a larger installation on Arcadia, and begin to transfer your people to the planet.”

   “No!” Kelgar said, slamming his fist. “You condemn us to life in the mud, while the Coalition keeps orbital space for itself. Our forefathers fought and died to protect our stations and installations...”

   “And smashed our world to bits in the process,” Trant said.

   “I would advocate a shared colony,” Powell said. “Both sides could contribute skilled workers. Naturally, this would have to be open-air, making use of local water and oxygen, as well as providing your agricultural base. This could...”

   Shaking his head, Yorax said, “Our people could never live in such an environment. They are too used to an artificial world, and I fear they would find it impossible to make the adjustment. What about an alternate plan.” He looked at Kelgar, and said, “As you said, Skybase is becoming impossible to maintain, and we are finding it increasingly difficult to organize resupply. Perhaps a better approach would be to construct one colony, on another of our moons, perhaps even on Itix beneath us, and share it. Pool our resources on a new base, a new home for our people.”

   “Under Council control,” Kelgar added.

   “We could never agree to that,” Poltis replied. “Nor should we.”

   “The Council would be providing the bulk of the population and resources involved. Skybase would have to be gutted for many of the component parts,” Kelgar said. “It seems only reasonable that we should be responsible for the political direction of the new colony.”

   Trant frowned, and added, “Perhaps we could agree to add a representative from the Coalition to the Council? Poltis himself, maybe.”

   Kelgar looked at the young officer for a moment, then reluctantly nodded, replying, “I think I could find myself in agreement with that proposal. Expanding the Council to six members definitely has possibilities.”

   Shaking his head, Poltis replied, “And whenever I spoke, everything I said would be shouted down, and I would find myself outvoted at every turn. We would accept equal representation, five and five.”

   “The Council would be far too unwieldy,” Kelgar replied. “Ten people is far too large.” He leaned forward, and said, “There is one truth here. Our people must be united, but if you will not accept the decision of the majority...”

   “There's an idea!” Vyram roared. “Let's have a free and fair election, vote for a leader. We'd abide by the results of such a vote if it was conducted in an open manner.”

   “Impossible!” Kelgar said. “That would require...”

   Slamming her gavel again, Orlova said, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere.”

   “Exactly,” Poltis replied. “Captain, we're attempting to be reasonable, but I cannot permit my people to be sold into slavery. You've seen the conditions they keep their people in on Skybase. I won't let my people fall to that level. In all truth, they'd sooner die.” He paused, then said, “There must still be room for compromise here today.”

   “Certainly,” Yorax said. “Two colonies, not one, but built next to each other, sharing resources where needed. A joint committee for each one, equal members from each nation.”

   “Nothing would ever be decided,” Poltis said. “And you would still outnumber us. Your soldiers could walk into our outpost at any time and end the co-operation.” He shook his head, and said, “I fear we have reached the same, all too familiar impasse.”

   “Not yet,” Orlova said. “There are other options. If you were to move to the surface, there would be room for as many outposts and settlements as you wish, spread out across a wide area. Indeed, it would make more sense to disperse your population, rather than concentrating.”

   “As I have said...”

   “My people would be willing to move to the surface,” Poltis said. “Though it would have to be on the understanding that the Council's people move as well. Giving them space superiority is not something I will concede.” Staring at Kelgar, he continued, “I can already see his mind working now, puzzling out how to give himself the greatest advantage. My people deserve better than such a fate.”

   “This isn't a question of advantage, but mutual survival,” Powell said. “I would point out that simply constructing a settlement large enough to house your joint population will take at least two years, and will require a coordinated effort from both your people. Perhaps we can table a discussion of political control for the moment, and move to more practical considerations.”

   “We are being asked to decide on the construction of an outpost when we will have no say in its government?” Kelgar asked.

   Looking at the politician, Orlova replied, “This is merely the first of several sessions, Administrator. We don't have to solve all of the problems today. Indeed, we might not settle them all at this conference, but the important thing is that you start working together for the common good.”

   “We're more than happy to do that,” Kelgar replied. “The greatest good of the greatest number.”

   “Which means my people are thrown out of the airlock,” Vyram replied.

   Turning to his counterpart, Yorax said, “Your ships have been the aggressors of late, launching unprovoked attacks against our shipping.”

   “We needed those supplies, supplies obtained from installations that you stole, to feed our people! What choice do we have?”

   “As a show of good faith, would you consider destroying your lasers in exchange for our demobilization of our gunboat fle
et?”

   The Coalition delegation erupted in a torrent of rage, Vyram shouting, “Our entire economy is dependent on those lasers! You could rearm in weeks. We didn't come here to be stripped of our only hope of survival.”

   “Why did you come here, then?” Kelgar said. “It seems a reasonable proposal to me. If you cannot concede on any point on the agenda, I cannot see that we have anything further to discuss.”

   Orlova slammed her gavel on the table, and said, “I think everyone's emotions are getting heated. I'm calling a half-hour recess. I suggest you take another look at Lieutenant Powell's proposals, and perhaps we can return to this discussion in a calmer state of mind later.”

   “I doubt it,” Kelgar said, rising to his feet and stalking out of the room, the other delegates on his tail, unwilling even to share an elevator. After the last one had gone, Orlova rose to her feet, rubbing her hand against her head.

   “I'll be back up in a few minutes. See if you can untangle something from that mess of invective, somewhere we might find an agreement. I'm going down to Sickbay to see if Doctor Duquesne has something for a headache. Or a stiff drink.”

  Chapter 15

   The buggy trawled laboriously across the landscape, tires digging deep into the ground, leaving a trail of mud in its wake. Cooper glanced back towards the base, now dipping beneath the horizon, looking for signs of pursuit. As far as he could tell, they'd made a clean getaway, but that just made him nervous. He reached down to his communicator to call Danus, then shook his head. It was only ten minutes since his last check-in. No need to disturb him again.

   He looked around at the magnificent view, attempting to distract himself, and it was all too easy to get lost in the lush green fields, rolling hills and bushy trees they were driving through. They were closing on the edge of a forest, following the well-worn track, with a trickling stream a few hundred meters to the right. As he glanced, he saw something leaping out of it, and smiled as he realized it was a shoal of fish.

   “If the Arcadians don't want this planet, I'll have it,” he said. “I've never seen anything like it. It's like Earth must have looked, before the Third World War.”

   “Imagine the sort of hell it was a few centuries ago,” Cantrell replied. “This whole world would have been a battleground, bad enough that the survivors had to retreat to orbit.” She brought the buggy to a halt just short of the trees, and added, “I think we walk from here.”

   “How far back to the base?”

   “Thirty miles, I think. A good, long hike, if needed.” She reached up, tugging out a circuit and stuffing it in her pocket. “I wouldn't worry. No-one's taking this thing anywhere unless I want it to.” Waving at the hanging spacesuits, she said, “I presume we aren't bothering with them?”

   “I can't see any reason why we should,” he replied, cracking the door, setting off a whining alarm as the air pressure changed. He stepped out onto the ground, his feet sinking an inch into the mud, and quickly moved to the grass, shaking the dirt free in thick clumps. Cantrell jumped from her side of the car, missing the mud entirely.

   Cooper turned to the forest, pausing for a second, and said, “I don't see a trail.”

   “The ground's wet,” Cantrell replied. “The rain probably washed it away.” She smiled, then said, “Good God, we really are out of our element, aren't we. If this was a space station, we'd be able to follow traces and tracks in an instant. Haven't you done any training for this?”

   “Oddly enough, no,” he replied. “I guess we just go in and see what we can find.”

   “And if someone finds us?”

   “I hope they do. Look, if there are people in there, they know a hell of a lot more about their environment than we do. We'd never be able to find them, not in a million years, not without equipment we don't have. All we can hope is that they manage to find us.” Stepping forward, he said, “So let's get moving, and don't worry about not making noise.”

   The two of them walked into the forest, the spongy moss pushing back against their feet, as they scrambled over roots and rocks. The air was filled with the scent of a hundred different flowers, everywhere the sound of birds and scurrying animals all around. Cooper marveled at the sight, drinking in the environment.

   Still, he could understand how the inhabitants of the base felt. This was his third time on an open planetary surface, and it still felt a little strange to be walking around without a suit, or even a respirator. He knew that the air wasn't going to run out, that the pressure was fine, the temperature safe, but a little warning bell was still ringing in his mind, and he was only second-generation spaceborn. Oddly, bleak Ragnarok and desolate Thule had seemed far more normal, perhaps because the landscape was like the Mars of his youth, albeit with air to breathe and water to drink. This world was teeming with life, rich and verdant, more lush than any nature dome he'd ever seen.

   “Look,” Cantrell said, kneeling on the ground. “There are people here.” She reached down and picked up a pointed piece of metal, a smooth, broken stick lying next to it. “An arrowhead.”

   “That's steel,” Cooper said, shaking his head. “Look at the writing on it.”

   “Some sort of offering, a message to their Gods?”

   “Or a coin that they've filed down to a point.”

   “You've got no soul, Gabe.” Rising to her feet, she continued, “There are probably ruins everywhere around here, buried under the ground. It might be worth sending in an archaeological team at some point.”

   Leaving the broken arrow on the ground, they continued on, following the stream as it wound its way through the woods. More signs of habitation were evident, another arrow, also broken, the remains of a campfire, a hook left embedded in the soil, a piece of wire tangled next to it. Then Cantrell pointed to the north, at a thin column of smoke rising towards the sky.

   “Signs of life,” she said.

   “We move quietly,” Cooper replied, “and watch yourself.”

   “I thought you wanted them to find us.”

   “That doesn't mean I want to walk unprepared into an ambush. Let's take this slow. I have a bad feeling about this. Something isn't right.” He paused, then said, “If I had a settlement here, so close to the Council base, I'd have guards posted. Wouldn't you?”

   Wordlessly, he led the way into the undergrowth, watching where he placed his feet, looking around for any further signs of life. A strange smell of roasting meat was on the air, oddly repellent, coming from the direction of the smoke, but he couldn't hear any sounds, any sign of human activity at all. He didn't quite know what he was expecting, but total silence wasn't it.

   For almost an hour they inched their way through the forest, Cooper expecting at any moment for someone to leap out at him, pistol, spear or nerve gun in hand, demanding to know why they were trespassing. There were plenty of signs that humans had been here littering the forest floor, more as they grew closer to the fire.

   He realized belatedly that the ground was smooth underfoot, and he knelt to see a gray trail winding through the forest floor, maybe the remains of a long-forgotten road that passed this way, the stone now cracked and broken. Strange as it was to think, they might be walking through the remnants of a city from before the Cataclysm, a place were thousands, millions of people once lived. Now it had returned to the wilderness from whence it came.

   The stink grew worse as they approached, and he could hear the crackling of the fires through the trees, the bird song oddly quiet. Cantrell stepped up to his side, pistol in hand, and glanced at him. There was no need for words. She felt it too. A sense of dread and foreboding that made him want to race for the buggy, head back to the base and pretend they had never made it out here. Nevertheless, duty pushed him onwards, to the edge of the crater.

   Cantrell beat him there by a second, then turned to the side and started to throw up into a bush. It took every ounce of self-control that Cooper possessed to stop him jo
ining her. He looked out onto what had once been a settlement, now a burned and blackened ruin. Everywhere he looked, he saw signs of battle, burned-out buildings, wagons, corpses. Some of them had been dumped onto a fire at the heart of the village, their remains still smoldering on the embers.

   “What happened?” he said. “What happened here?”

   “Those bastards!” Cantrell said. “They did this!” She reached for her communicator, and Cooper turned to her.

   “What are you doing?”

   “Calling Alamo. I'm going to tell Captain Orlova what the Council is doing down here. They've got to pay for what they have done.” Forcing herself to look up, she said, “Damn it, Gabe, there are children in that inferno!”

   Grabbing her by the arms, he said, “We can't bring back the dead, and we don't have the first idea what happened here, or who was responsible. You don't know that they did this, not yet. I'm as sickened by this as you are, but we've got to find out what happened, and we have to make a full recording of it. When they come to trial, and I assure you that whoever did this will pay for what they have done, I want the whole system to know why.

   She looked up at him, wide-eyed, nodded, and replied, “You're right. Of course.”

   “We can't call Alamo until we have a full report. They'll know we're here, and they'll know we're signaling orbit. One thing we can do, though.” He pulled out his own communicator, and said, “Cooper to Hunt.”

   “Hunt here. Go ahead.”

   “Secure the base. Quickly, and quietly. Make sure that no communications are sent to orbit, and make sure that the ship has no opportunity to take off. All base personnel are to be placed in solitary confinement, subject to questioning by higher authority at a later date. These orders are to be followed without question, and at once. Do you understand?”