Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27) Page 15

   He paused, turned to Strickland, and asked, “Doctor, is Captain Orlova in any condition to assume command of Alamo?”

   “Not for at least three days, sir. And regulations...”

   “Thank you, Doctor.” Turning back to Orlova, he said, “Captain, nobody respects your judgment more than me, but I have the chair until relieved. Either by Captain Salazar, or by yourself when Doctor Strickland indicates that you are fit to do so. Besides, I'm obeying Pavel's orders. Before he left to rescue you, he made it quite clear that the safety of the ship and her crew comes first. I'll do everything I can to help him, but I know where my priorities are.”

   “And the Sphere?” she asked. “You came out here for the same reasons we did. To find a safe way home, a wormhole path that will take us back to the Milky Way Galaxy.” She frowned, then continued, “What about the rest of my crew?”

   A familiar figure stepped into the room, Lieutenant Maqua, saying, “Can I come in.”

   “By all means, Lieutenant,” Strickland said. “Turns out this is a briefing room instead of a medical ward. I've called Chief Santiago to send someone to alter the signage.”

   “Maqua?” she said, as the Neander approached. “You made it?”

   Nodding, he replied, “The rest of my team didn't, but I got away. I've been living in the forest for the last few months, until Pavel and the others arrived. Captain, I've seen no trace of anyone else from Monitor, and trust me, I looked. We've had drones sweeping the local area, and we've certainly been making enough comm chatter...”

   “You know how hard it is to punch signals through in the Sphere.”

   “Granted, but we're still able to transmit for a few thousand miles. How far did your people go?”

   Looking up at Francis, she said, “Can you bring up a topographical map of the Sphere?”

   “Certainly,” he replied, tapping a series of controls. She pointed at a spot close to a lake, a hundred miles across, with rolling hills covered in verdant forest beyond.

   “Right there.”

   “That's three thousand miles and change from the entry point.”

   “I wanted to make sure the Hegemony didn't show up. As far as we knew, we were there for the rest of our lives. Lieutenant, do you still have drones down there?”

   “A few.”

   “Then I'd like one tasked to head out there and take a look.”

   “Captain, you realize that my orders still stand, no matter how many people are stranded in the Sphere. There's no fast way to retrieve them, in any case, unless Lombardo can manage to work out the controls on that vacuum train. My instincts tell me that we're going to be under attack in a matter of hours. Certainly days. It would take weeks to pull your people back from that sort of distance, and you know it.”

   “They're in need of help, in need of rescue.”

   Rising to his feet, Francis said, “There are hundred and twelve people on this ship, Captain, all of them stranded a hell of a long way from home. We have no support, no spacedock access, no opportunity for relief or resupply. This is it. I would point out that Monitor died here, and I have no intention of adding Alamo to the list of wrecked ships in this system. Nor do I have any intention of leading the crew into permanent exile on the Sphere unless I have no other alternatives. And I must assume that if you were thinking clearly, you'd agree with me.”

   She paused, then said, “Send the drone, Lieutenant.”

   “That much, I will do. I'll even attach a message suggesting that your people should head back towards the exit point, to our Base Camp. With luck, we'll be able to return at some point and rescue anyone still stuck here, but if they're scattered all across the Sphere, we won't have a chance.”

   “And Salazar?”

   “I've done everything I can for him already. There's a shuttle holding station outside the ship. It can be down at Base Camp in eight minutes minus if I see signs that he's on his way back. That's the best I can do for the moment. I certainly won't send any more forces down there, not after what happened last time. Enough people have died here already. I won't throw more into the fire without a damned good reason. That isn't what Pavel would want.” He rose, walked to the door, and said, “Keep an eye on her, Doctor. I'll expect to see updated fitness reports.”

   “Yes, sir,” Strickland said, as Francis left the room. He turned to Orlova, and said, “You should have walked a little more softly, Captain. Francis knows what's he's doing.”

   “We should be down on the Sphere,” she replied.

   “After what happened at Base Camp,” Maqua said, “I can understand his caution. Hell, with respect, ma'am, I agree with him.”

   “What happened?”

   “We were attacked. Thousands of those beasts, without warning. We barely had enough time to set up defenses, and we might as well not have bothered for all the good they did.” He paused, and said, “Three dead, twelve wounded.”

   “None seriously,” Strickland added. “I released them all to light duty this morning. Most of them were shrapnel, effects of friendly fire. One broken arm when he fell into the shuttle. Either you died, or you walked out of that. There wasn't much in it.” He paused, and said, “You knew Frank Rhodes, didn't you?”

   “Knew?”

   “He didn't make it out of there.”

   “I'm sorry,” Orlova said. “I really am.”

   “We'll be holding the memorial service as soon as all of this is over,” Maqua said. He turned to her again, and continued, “How many of our people are out there, Captain? From Monitor?”

   “Thirty-five. Not counting any of the other missing crewmen. Yours wasn't the only expedition party that didn't make it back, and I'm beginning to realize why.” She reached up to the controls behind her bed, snapping off the hologram, and continued, “Who else do we have?”

   “Foster's, well, Acting Exec. Operations Officer, normally. Scott's Tactical. And you know about Carpenter, Lombardo, Clarke.” He paused, then added, “Have you ever met Sub-Lieutenant Clarke?”

   “Only briefly,” she replied. “Though I'm familiar with his service record. I signed off on his appointment to Alamo. As a Midshipman, though. Did Pavel commission all the middies?”

   “No, just John,” Strickland said. “He earned it. Twice over. That kid is a phenomenon at field work. Though I'm not sure even he quite knows how.” A grin spreading across his face, he added, “He's Security Officer now. Following in yours and Pavel's footsteps, I understand.”

   “That's a hell of a job for a kid.”

   “He's a hell of a kid,” Strickland said. He glanced up at the monitor, and said, “We'd better start wrapping this up. I'm going to have to run you through a few more examinations than I'd planned today.”

   “Are you going to assume command?” Maqua asked, bluntly.

   She paused, then said, “That depends on the circumstances. If, hell, when Pavel makes it back, we'll sit down in an office and work out how to proceed. I don't think either of us actually wants the job that much. We'll probably end up playing a hand of poker for it. Loser becomes Exec.”

   With a smile, Maqua said, “That sounds like the officer I know. And if...”

   “Attention!” the overhead speaker blared. “Attention! All hands to alert stations. I repeat, all hands to alert stations. This is no drill. I repeat, this is no drill!”

   “Sounds like they're singing my song,” Maqua said. “I'll see you later, Captain.”

   Turning to Strickland, Orlova said, “Get me out of this rig, Doctor.”

   “Not a chance,” he replied. “You're on more painkillers than you know, Captain, and if you get out of this bed too quickly, you'll undo everything I've done in the last six hours. I worked overtime patching you back together, and I'll be damned if you wreck it now.”

   “But if we're under attack...”

   “Max Francis is an experienced combat officer, and he's
got Foster and Scott on the bridge with him. All of them know what they are doing, all of them are veterans against the Hegemony, and all of them are physically fit for duty. Unlike yourself.”

   “Damn it, Doctor, I can't just lie here while my ship is under attack!”

   “I'm afraid that's just what you're going to do, Captain, and I'm sorry to be blunt, but until I place you back on active duty, you have no authority to order me to fetch you a glass of water!” He moved over to the monitor, and said, “I'll make a deal with you. I'll set up a tactical view so that you can watch the play-by-play, but if you so much as make a move, I'll fill you so full of sedatives that you won't wake up for a week. Agreed?”

   With a reluctant nod, she said, “Agreed. You remind me of your predecessor, Doctor.”

   “I'll go ahead and consider that a complement. Now just relax.”

   “Easier said than done.”

  Chapter 20

   “It's getting louder,” Clarke said, as he and Mortimer raced along the shore of the underground lake, pistols in hand. “Definitely getting louder.”

   “Yeah,” she replied. “Shouldn't we think about running in the other direction?”

   “Probably,” he said with a smile. “Though this is the closest thing we've found to a signpost yet, and it's dark enough down here that I don't want to pass up on the chance. We can't wander around here forever.” He glanced across at her, and added, “We don't have any rations, for one thing, and we certainly can't get back the way we came in.”

   “What about that friend of yours?”

   Glancing at his watch, he said, “In about an hour, or less, he'll be stepping into Flyer Two to start the flight back to Base Camp. I hope he makes it.”

   “You don't mind that he's flying off with our only escape route?”

   “If we're still here by then, I doubt it'll matter anyway. Everything I've seen suggests that those creatures only function in darkness.”

   “Then why aren't they swarming around down here?”

   “Because I don't think it's just a matter of light-sensitivity. I think it's something fixed inside them, some sort of biological imperative. Remember that we're dealing with an engineered lifeform.”

   “Stop using long words like that. It makes me nervous.” She gestured ahead, and said, “You see that? There's a shiny spot on the wall. Metal, not stone.” Looking around, she continued, “And whatever that rumbling is, it's definitely getting louder. We're on the right track.”

   “You want to hang behind while I go and take a look?” Clarke asked.

   “What's the point?” she said. “As you've pointed out, it isn't as though I've got anywhere to run to even if we find trouble up there. We might as well go in together. Though I want it clear for the record that I thought this was a bad idea, and I expect you to explain that to Saint Peter when we reach the gates. Assuming we both make it.”

   “Pessimist.”

   “Hell, suicide is a sin.” They reached the metal, and scanned the surface of the portal, looking over the pictographs carved into the alloy. “Interesting. Not useful, but interesting.” She placed a careful palm on the wall, and added, “It's vibrating. Pretty wild, as well.”

   “I don't see a control panel,” Clarke replied. He looked around the shore, then added, “I don't see anything else around here. No other evidence of habitation aside from that statue we found. I wonder whether this area was populated at one time.”

   “Who'd live down here?”

   “Maybe a race that didn't like the sunlight, that only came out in the darkness anyway. This is as engineered as the savages, Ronnie. Someone built this place, thousands of years ago. Maybe the builders of the Sphere. I can't help but think that we're intruding on something that wasn't meant to be disturbed.”

   “I've been trying to tell you that for hours.” She ran her hands across the surface, then said, “There's some sort of seam running down the middle. Maybe...”

   With a loud clunk, the door slid open, and a blast of air slammed into them, sending both tumbling into the lake. Clarke looked up, spotting a point of light visibly growing as it approached, and tugged at Mortimer, dragging her away, further into the water. The wind howled all around them, turning the surface of the lake into foaming froth, a loud boom echoing from the walls.

   “Sonic boom!” Mortimer yelled. “What the hell?”

   “Hold on!” Clarke said. “It's getting closer!”

   A silver bullet shot into position, slowing to a stop at the threshold of the door. Instantly, Clarke leveled his pistol, walking out of the water, keeping the exit covered as best he could, Mortimer following him a heartbeat later.

   “That's what I think it is, isn't it,” she said.

   “I think so,” he replied. In the distance, sirens wailed, and as they stepped forward, they could hear the ringing of feet on metal, soldiers climbing down ladders towards their position. “I guess you were right about this being a bad idea.”

   “I'd have had no objection to being proven wrong.” Glancing at her pistol, she added, “Three rounds in this one. Glad you had a spare. How many in yours.”

   “Four. Guess I'm a greedy bastard.” He paused, then said, “If it's the savages, save the last bullet for yourself. I mean that.”

   “No chance, then?”

   “I think we're getting into glorious last stand territory. I suppose that's what you get for serving on a ship called Alamo.”

   “Hey, you volunteered. I got press-ganged.”

   Cracking a smile, he said, “Five shots. Let's make them count.”

   “Yeah.”

   A black-uniformed figure dropped from the ceiling, swinging nimbly down, rifle in hand. Mortimer fired first, her bullet catching the man in the shoulder, sending him rolling to the ground. Clarke took the second figure, a bullet in his leg that knocked him to the side, and for a brief moment, there was a pause, the other soldiers evidently waiting until they'd built up sufficient force to overwhelm them.

   With a loud hiss, the hatch on the bullet cracked open, and the shaft was filled with the staccato blast of a machine gun on full auto, filling the air with exploding slivers of metal that ripped into the assembled enemy forces. Clarke glanced at Mortimer, shock on his face, and tentatively stepped forward, keeping his pistol leveled on the devastation unfolding before him. Finally, the weapons fire ceased, and a familiar figure in combat armor stepped out, rifle in hand, slamming a fresh clip into her weapon.

   “Fox?” he said. “Good God, Sergeant, I almost shot you!” He stepped forward, and the veteran Espatier turned to greet him, a smile on his face.

   “By damn, Sub-Lieutenant, you sure know how to make a rescue mission easy,” she replied. “We figured we'd have to search the whole complex for you. I certainly didn't figure on you giving us covering fire.” Looking past him, she said, “Still keeping him on the straight and narrow, Ronnie?”

   “It'll take someone better than me to pull off that miracle,” she replied. “Where's the Captain?”

   Shaking his head, Clarke said, “I don't know. I managed to sneak into the detention block, but it was only blind luck that got me to Ronnie. There was no sign of anyone else up there, though.”

   Nodding, Mortimer added, “I got the impression I was their only prisoner.”

   “When did you break out?”

   “Maybe five hours ago.”

   “Damn,” she said, peering into the cabin. “It's all clear, Lieutenant. At least for the moment.”

   Harper limped out of the vehicle, looked at Clarke, then said, “The Prodigal Sub-Lieutenant returns, I see. Thanks for the assist.”

   “My pleasure. How many did you bring?”

   “Just the three of us,” she replied. “Lombardo's at the controls, getting ready for the trip back. We couldn't spare the time to bring anyone else.” She paused, then said, “That, and Alamo's on the verge of pulling o
ut of the system. They might be forced to leave at any time.”

   “That's not important right now, ma'am.” Looking at Mortimer, he added, “We've got to destroy this complex.”

   “Agreed,” Fox said. “After what those bastards did to Base Camp...”

   “You were attacked?” Mortimer asked.

   With a sad nod, Fox replied, “Three dead, including Frank Rhodes. That's one of the reasons we pulled everyone out of the Sphere. They came at us without warning. Caught us by surprised. It's odd. They seemed intelligently directed from a strategic point of view, but tactically they were nothing more than a blood-crazed mob.”

   “That's exactly right. The scientists up here are trying to weaponize them, and as far as I can see, they've come pretty damned close to succeeding. We've got to stop them before it's too late. There are some shaped nuclear charges somewhere here on the base that ought to blow a new crater where this place once was.”

   “Wait a minute,” Harper said. “Shaped nuclear charges?”

   “We aren't the first ones to try and take down this base. The Hegemony sent in a Covert Ops team about eighteen months ago. I met the survivor up top.”

   “Where is he?”

   Looking at his watch, Clarke replied, “Probably at the controls of Flyer Two right now, heading for Alamo.” At her expression, he continued, “Payment for a debt, Lieutenant. Besides, if that thing can travel faster than sound, we've got a better way home anyway.”

   “Probably, but it would have been nice to have a backup,” Harper replied.

   “What's the plan, Lieutenant?” Lombardo asked, stepping out of the vacuum train.

   “Two teams,” Harper said. “Clarke, you and Mortimer will prioritize looking for the nuclear charges. Lombardo and I will head to the detention area and try and rescue the Captain. Have either of you got a communicator?”

   “Just two pistols,” Clarke said. “And seven rounds of ammunition total.”

   “I think we can help you there,” Fox said with a smile. “Help yourself from the stores. I brought everything I could carry.”

   “Plasma rifles?” Mortimer said. “On a stealth raid?”