Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty Page 4

   As the helicopter settled onto the deck, a hatch on its side popped open, and the Commandant gestured for Marshall to step in; the interior of the cabin had no windows, bright panels illuminating the four couches. He settled inside, strapping himself down, and was surprised when the Commandant waved the guards away, stepping inside by himself.

   “Aren’t you worried I might try something?” he asked.

   “Where would you go if you did, Captain? It is impossible to get from this cabin to the cockpit, and even if by some miracle you did, you will find that you have very few friends on this planet. Strange as it may sound, I’m the closest thing to an ally you are going to find.”

   “The windows?”

   “I thought you might like a little privacy. That and the protesters would probably be antagonized if we were to move you too openly. The local administration has made rather a lot of your capture. I suppose I can’t blame them, it was the only good piece of news on a somewhat depressing day for them.”

   With a jerk, the helicopter took off, a series of loud clangs heralding their passage out of the top of the dome, and out into the planet’s atmosphere. He felt forward motion, but it was a strange sensation not being able to see where he was going.

   “Can I ask where you are taking me?”

   “There isn’t anything particularly secret about it. We have a few outposts, mostly abandoned mining facilities, taken over for our own use. I have commandeered one of those for our stay. I assure you that the accommodations there are far more comfortable than anything you would have experienced with those fools in the capital.”

   “I take it that you don’t get along with them?”

   “You would have been a thousand times more secure taken to one of these bases immediately. It isn’t as if you can go anywhere, and simply throwing you in a cell did nothing other than satisfy some perverse need for revenge.”

   Marshall could tell that the helicopter was moving quickly, but without any reference points, trying to work out where they were going was impossible. The Commandant was right; knowing where he was wouldn’t make that much difference in any case, with no possibility of getting off planet, the Cabal held all the cards in any case.

   “My compliments on a victory in the battle, by the way. An excellent piece of strategic planning, especially the reinforcement by Hercules at the last minute. Inspired.”

   Somehow, Marshall didn’t have the heart to tell him that the arrival of the second ship had been an unplanned accident; giving the Commandant the impression that their planning and preparation had been better than it had been in reality was not a bad thing, in any case.

   “You gave it a tough fight,” he replied. “It went rather better than I was expecting.”

   “Oh, it was quite clear to me that you were intending to go out in one final blaze of glory, doing as much damage as possible. If I had been in command, I suspect you would have had your wish.”

   “That wasn’t your fleet?”

   “I merely commanded two of the battlecruisers. Well, that was at the beginning of the battle. By the end of it, I had inherited full command. I suppose I should thank you for my somewhat unorthodox promotion, though I doubt the casualties would appreciate that.”

   “I’m sorry for your losses.”

   “Fortunes of war.” He paused, then said, “I should be apologizing to your for your treatment following your capture. I only arrived in orbit this morning, but as soon as I found out what had happened, I started work to have you transferred into my custody.”

   “You don’t approve?”

   “Of morons like those? Certainly not. A pair of savage thugs given a uniform and made to feel self-important by brutalizing others. That’s not what we are supposed to do.” Shaking his head, he said, “We are far less uniform than your Confederation, and have a lot less influence on how individual planets operate.”

   “Really?” Marshall said. “I rather had the impression that you were more of a monolithic state, everything controlled tightly from the top.”

   “Everything in space, yes, and we hold the final authority at all times, but policing the individual planets is a lot more difficult. We have other things to worry about, at least for the moment. Perhaps when everything finally settles down, we can work on our internal political structure.”

   “Such as abolishing slavery, perhaps?”

   He nodded, and said, “I had a feeling that would prove a sensitive issue.”

   “My men deserved to be treated as prisoners of war, not sold at auction to the highest bidder in order to be worked to death.”

   “Don’t force me to defend a policy I disagree with. Your colonies had the same practices…”

   “Which we went to war to end.”

   Raising a hand, he said, “Peace, Captain. Not only do I agree with what you said, I did everything in my power to mitigate a decision that was outside my control.” He reached into his pocket, and handed a datapad over to Marshall, who started to skim through it. Instructions to a factor, and a bill of sale.

   “You bought my men?”

   “I knew I could make better use of them than working them to death on a refinery ship. They would have been held in a secured facility, and ultimately I might have been able to arrange their release. At the very least, I would have seen to their good treatment.” He shook his head, and said, “No matter what my personal feelings, I cannot simply snap my fingers and change long-standing government policies.”

   “And you think that by buying them you earn my respect?”

   “I seek understanding, nothing more. There was only so much I could do at the time.” He smiled, then said, “You owe me a good deal of money, now, but I was planning on writing it off in any case. It made it easier to have you transferred to my custody, anyway; your crime was against me as much as it was against the state.”

   “So what happens now? What is to be my fate?”

   “To begin with, I will ask you some questions, a formality that my superiors will expect; I suspect that you will have no intention of answering them, but we must both read from our respective scripts for the benefit of the cameras. After that, you will be held in a comfortable facility for the present.”

   “Locked in a cage for the rest of my life.”

   With a frown, the Commandant said, “You and I both know that it will not come to that. At some point, we are likely to go to war, and upon its end, whoever wins, you will be released. I assure you of that.”

   “Trading me for your safety?”

   “Damn it, Captain, I’m trying to help you here! There is also the possibility of a prisoner exchange. Our intelligence efforts are ramping up, and you would be a good trade for any of our people that are captured.”

   Leaning back on his chair, Marshall replied, “I’d probably do essentially the same in your place, I suppose. Though it would be someone in Intelligence that handles the messy details.”

   “I have rather more freedom of action in some respects than you. You might think of me as a troubleshooter, gathering around our little part of the universe to deal with problems before they can grow too much. Until your arrival, I had an excellent record.”

   “I’m sorry I’m damaging your reputation.”

   “If you feel that badly about it, then there is an offer I would extend to you.”

   “And that is?”

   Sitting forward and facing him, the Commandant said, “Switch sides. Work for me.”

   “Excuse me?”

   “Even if you are exchanged, it is likely that the conditions will include a provision that you never command a ship of your own again. Your only chance to do what you were born for is in my fleet.”

   “Are you actually seriously suggesting that I turn traitor?”

   Shaking his head, he said, “I would undertake that you would not be involved in any actions against the Triplanetary Confederation. W
e are currently working against the United Nations as well; surely you would have no objection to fighting their vessels?”

   “Under your flag, I certainly would.”

   With a deep sigh, he replied, “There is so little need for us to be enemies. Our two governments are more similar than you would like to believe, and we could work together for the common good.”

   “By joining the Cabal. We’ve talked about this before, on Jefferson.”

   “Most of your citizens wouldn’t notice the difference. This wouldn’t mean installing new taskmasters; our fleets would be merged, some of you obtaining senior positions, and your leaders would run your worlds, just as they do now.”

   “But without freedom, without democracy, and with the sort of imposed dictatorship that we spent more than a decade throwing off. Our people are still only a generation removed from United Nations rule. You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone willing to agree to your terms.”

   With a smug grin, he replied, “Cornucopia Mining were more than happy to sign up.”

   “One of the last of the big mega-corps left over from the war. The people would rebel at the very thought of this.”

   “I fear that you overestimate the will of your population, though I suppose you know them far better than I. It matters little, in any case. Ultimately, your three worlds will become a part of our government, and the terms and conditions will be far worse than if you had opted to take the more sensible path. Understand that our concern – our single and only concern – is the survival of the human race. That is why we settled the stars, decades before anyone else, and that is our prime motivation today.”

   “Why, though? I can understand how you must have felt after the war, when you though Earth had been destroyed, but as soon as you found Discovery you must have realized things were different. You could have come home, or at least made your existence clear.”

   “And become a puppet of the United Nations?”

   Marshall paused, then said, “At the very least, now that mankind is spread so far across the galaxy, you can relax your stance. Why continue with your aggressive posture? Why seek out a war with the Confederation?”

   “Are you telling me in all honesty that you would simply allow us to exist? That you wouldn’t demand we free our worlds, wouldn’t inspire revolution among the Neander, or our indentured workers?”

   Shrugging, he said, “Probably, though given our respective strengths, I suspect a majority of the Senate would be happy with a hands-off policy…”

   “At least until your fleet was strong enough – in your own minds, if nothing else – that you could risk a head-on confrontation. I know more about your domestic politics than you think. Not to mention that there are strong elements in your Fleet pushing for a war now, today, even with the limited intelligence you have.”

   “There isn’t anything you can do about that, not now.”

   “Perhaps. But we are determined that the greatest chance of mankind’s survival is as a single, unified state, ready to face anything that comes. There are dangers out there of which you are unaware; remember that we have been traveling the stars far longer than your Confederation.”

   “Such as?”

   With a wide smile, he said, “I think that a discussion for another time. Even I am not so confident in my security as to provide a prisoner with classified information. You would follow the same restrictions were our roles reversed.”

   “Certainly.” The helicopter began to slow, turning to the left, sending them gently towards the wall. “I take it we are almost there.”

   “Nearly. We will require our respirators for the landing.”

   “I was wondering why you had given me one.”

   Looking around the inside of the helicopter, he said, “One breach in this wall, even for a minute, and we are both dead, our lungs seared. I would not take such a risk, not when it is merely uncomfortable to avoid it.”

   “Very wise.”

   The helicopter settled down for a landing, and a red light flashed on as the hatch opened; the two men checked their respirators and stumbled out into a storm. Waiting for them outside were a pair of suited guards, both with pistols in holsters but not drawn, who gestured for them to step into an airlock raised from the ground.

   Pausing, Marshall stopped to look around the bleak landscape, trying to find at least something he would be able to recognize, something he could use to fix his position should be try to escape. He was standing atop a tall tower, several stories high, with a perimeter fence and a couple of low buildings, one of them emitting smoke, with pipes running out into the oily sea about half a mile away, black froth foaming over a gray beach. In the distance were tall mountains, surrounding the facility on the horizon as far as he could see, and a few faint paths wound off into the distance.

   “An old impact crater,” the Commandant said, half shouting to make himself heard. “I think they hoped to find mineral deposits here, but ten years search found nothing in this area.” He gestured at the roads, and said, “They go nowhere, just to a few abandoned buildings and obsolete mining equipment. I could arrange a tour if you are really interested.”

   “No thanks,” Marshall replied.

   “Then we can get into shelter now?”

   “Certainly,” he said, leading the way. The airlock doubled as an elevator, and while it was descending, it pressurized, and the two of them took off their masks in relief as the green light flashed on. The guards retained theirs, and remained inside as the stepped off into a corridor. The doors closed, leaving the two of them alone.

   “Perimeter watch. There’s no need to maintain a large staff here. Just a few maintenance technicians and security guards. I venture that with some work you would be able to overwhelm the whole force.”

   “What would that accomplish?”

   “Nothing except an orbital strike that would create another crater. Perhaps this time the mining companies would have more luck, though I venture not. Would you like to see your quarters now?”

   “I haven’t got any other plans. Are you staying here as well?”

   “From time to time,” he said. “I have got a fleet in orbit to take care of, as well as a wayward battlecruiser to find. Unless you are willing to provide me with any assistance in that area?”

   Marshall chuckled, and replied, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d have to offer me something a lot more substantial than the prospect of your company for me to give you that information.”

   Gesturing at a door, the Commandant walked down the corridor to the end, and into a room that more resembled a luxury suite at a hotel than prison; a comfortable bed, monitor display over one wall and a desk, a selection of Triplanetary uniforms, up to and including full dress uniform, by the looks of it all tailored for him, even a mini-bar.

   “This is...unexpected,” he replied.

   “As far as I am concerned, you are an honored guest, not a prisoner. As I said before, there is no point in us mistreating you. The questions are displayed on the terminal; I would be grateful if you would refuse to answer them as quickly as you can, so that I can proceed with my report. I’m sure you are as aware of the tyranny of paperwork as I am.”

   “I’ll get right on it,” he replied.

   “Dinner will be served at the far end of the corridor in about an hour. If you need anything, the button on the wall will summon a guard; if you want, you can roam the complex as you wish. The respirator recharges in the bathroom.”

   Shaking his head, Marshall said, “No guards in the corridor, and you’ll let me walk out of here?”

   “This information I will give you, Captain. You are three hundred miles from the city, the only inhabited area on the planet aside from a few military bases such as this. Where would you go?”

   “Good point.”

   “I’ll let you settle in,” he said. “See you later.”

 
 Marshall sat down at the desk, still shaking his head in disbelief. It was obvious that this was just another attempt to try and convince him to switch sides, though he’d not heard of such a tactic being taken to these extremes before. He called up the list of questions, all of them the expected requests for information on ship locations and assignments, personnel questions. He filled in his name, rank and serial number, then simply typed in ‘refuse to answer’ for the rest, finishing it in less than five minutes.

   Then it hit him; he’d already co-operated with the Commandant. Maybe the plan was working after all, and as he looked out at the bleak landscape around him, he was intensely aware that he might be trapped in a gilded cage, but it remained a cage, and his duty still remained clear. To attempt to escape at the first opportunity.

  Chapter Five

   Orlova stepped onto the bridge, just as Kibaki’s Gamma Watch was handing over to Alpha Watch; all eyes were on her as she walked out of the elevator, looking around at the stations and displays. It all seemed so strange to her, alien, after months on Hercules and Ouroboros. She’d spent years on this ship, but all of them seemed to have been washed away by everything that had happened.

   Kibaki, handing a datapad to his replacement, Sub-Lieutenant Reid, walked over to her, a smile on his face, and clapped her on the shoulder.

   “Welcome home, Maggie. It’s good to get you back. I thought you’d want to know that Ouroboros will be docking at Hydra Station in a few minutes. Everything seems to be going fine over there.”

   “Thanks,” she said in a near-monotone. “I need to see the Captain.” She paused, then said, “Major.”

   Turning to the office door, he said, “I’m having trouble getting used to it as well. You’re going to have to wait for a minute, I’m afraid. Caine stormed in here a few minutes ago and barged in to see him without saying a word. She must be taking the Captain’s loss hard.”