Battlecruiser Alamo: Malware Blues Page 5

   “Jack doesn’t want it, I don’t know Powell well enough to know if he is up to it, and as for Grant, well, I need someone I trust.”

   With a shrug, he said, “So I get it by default.”

   “Hell, I can’t give it to Carpenter, and Harper isn’t here,” she said with a smile.

   “I’ll take it,” he replied, as the doors opened. The two of them walked across the corridor and into the new bridge, Grant and Powell looking at projections at the command holotable, the rest of the crew at their stations.

   “Sit-rep, Grant,” Orlova asked.

   “All systems nominal, and I’ve arranged for extra security at key locations,” Grant said. “I’ve also taken the liberty of preparing a preliminary report to pass on to Captain Marshall at Ragnarok. We are ready for space.”

   “What makes you think we’re going out?” Nelyubov asked.

   He shrugged, and said, “I read a transcript of that message. I’ll state for the record that I disagree with the decision, and must point out that you do not have the authority to enter into the course of action that you are planning to undertake, but it was always a foregone conclusion that we’d be heading out after Wyvern. There doesn’t seem to be any point wasting time having an argument that I’m not going to win.”

   Nodding, Powell said, “I have already plotted a course to take us to Phaeton, to the safe egress point in the system. Actually, I’m looking forward to this. A planet destroyed by some catastrophe recently enough that we can take a good look at the processes involved. It promises to be truly fascinating.”

   “Let’s hope that we get sufficient time to study it. Lieutenant Grant, if you wish, I will make a note of your protests in my log.”

   “I do.”

   “If anyone else wishes to register such a protest, please do so now.”

   Kelso stepped forward, datapad in hand, and at her disappointed look, said, “No, not that, ma’am. Shuttle Two has departed for the station with the body of Lieutenant Strong on board. We’ve already got a replacement heading out, and it should catch up with us well before we reach the egress point. Alamo is ready for space, ma’am.”

   “What about Scott?” Nelyubov asked.

   “I’m keeping her on board. I know she doesn’t have any memory of the last few months, but she might prove useful, nevertheless.”

   “Under guard,” Grant said.

   “Naturally, Lieutenant. Please pass the word to Ensign, no Sergeant Gurung that I would like a trooper to be with her at all times. Someone experienced enough to spot any false moves.”

   “Aye, ma’am,” he said, nodding, stepping over to a comm terminal to give the orders.

   Looking around the room, she said, “I know we were wanting more time to get this ship ready, but that’s a luxury the current situation will not permit us. We have a lot of new systems, and we’re going to have to test them in action. I know I can count on all of you to do your best. Lieutenant Kelso, you may take us out.”

   “Aye, ma’am,” he said, stepping into position behind the helm. “Spaceman Weitzman, contact Traffic Control and inform them that we are leaving the system.”

   “Our flight path is clear to the egress point,” Spinelli said from the sensor station.

   “Thank you. Midshipman, take us out.”

   “Aye, sir,” Foster said, running her hands eagerly over the controls. Orlova smiled as she watched her work. With a series of light taps, Alamo began to drift clear of its mooring point, slowly drawing away from the station, before pivoting wildly to port, sliding around in position to point towards the exit point. She ran the thrust up carefully, building the acceleration, and the ship began to speed out of the system.

   A flash of green light drew her back to the holotable, Powell hunched over his panel, entering commands, a trajectory plot through other-dimensional space appearing in the middle of the room.

   “Message from Yeager Station, ma’am,” Weitzman said. “Wishing us good luck, and good hunting.”

   “Egress point in two minutes, thirty seconds,” Foster added. “Course is computed and laid in.”

   “All decks report ready,” Nelyubov said, glancing across from his station.

   “Mr. Weitzman, contact the station again. Request all information on the planet and system we’re heading for. Top priority download.”

   Frowning, Grant said, “They won’t have anything we don’t.”

   “Let’s make sure, Lieutenant.”

   “Data upload complete,” Weitzman said, a puzzled look on his face.

   “Thank you, Spaceman.”

   As Orlova looked at the course track, a brief shudder of doubt began to run through her mind, a last-minute, nagging worry that she was doing the right thing. Powell looked up, smiled, and nodded, and she turned to face the viewscreen.

   “You have the call, Midshipman. Jump to hendecaspace at your discretion.”

   “Aye, ma’am. I have the call.”

   A brief moment later, and the familiar blue flash raced across the viewscreen, the ship making the transition to another dimension. Too late for any second thoughts. Now they were committed to the jump, whatever might be waiting for them on the other side of it.

  Chapter 6

   “How do you feel?” Cooper asked, looking down as Bradley as she slowly woke up.

   “Like someone hit me on the head with a wrench,” she replied. “What happened?”

   “I had to improvise a bit. Partial decompression of the shuttle cabin. Which apparently made you hit your head on the cabin wall. Doc’s checked you out, and you’re back on duty in the morning.”

   Struggling to rise, she said, “What time is it?”

   “Twenty-hundred and change. We’re in hendecaspace, and Chief Kowalski’s seen to the shuttles.”

   “I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t traded them away.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Give me a hand.”

   “Wait a minute,” he replied. “You’ve had a head injury, and…”

   “I’m hungry, I want dinner, and I want to eat it in the mess.” She smiled, and added, “I feel fine. Just a little stiff and sore, and a walk will do me good.” Pulling herself to her feet, she started to walk towards the door, slightly unstable, and Cooper followed her, accepting reality and taking her arm.

   Carefully, he escorted her down the corridor, and after a few moments her footsteps became more confident, and she glanced at his arm. Ignoring the hint, he continued to hold on, and she shook her head with a smile as they stepped into the elevator.

   “Where are we going, anyway?”

   “Out to the brown dwarf star Wyvern was investigating. It doesn’t even have a name, just a long catalog number. Looks like I’m going to get some action again.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’ve never been on board one of that class of ship. I see many long hours pouring over deck plans ahead.”

   The door paused, and the gray-haired Powell stepped in, looking at the two of them.

   “Are you heading to the mess? I confess I am still trying to find my way around on this ship.”

   “That’s right,” Bradley said. “I saw you when you came on board.”

   “Ah, yes, Sub-Lieutenant Bradley. I presume this is your husband?”

   “Ensign Gabriel Cooper, sir.”

   “Eh?” He looked at his rank insignia in brief befuddlement, and said, “I was forgetting. I’ve been out of uniform for so long that it seems strange to wear one of these again. That, and all of the ranks were different before. John Powell, and I don’t think we need to bother with the formalities, do we?”

   The doors opened, and they stepped out onto the deck, Bradley said, “Call me Barbara, and the reprobate locked to my arm is Gabe.”

   “This was your idea,” Cooper said, “but we’re going to do it my way. I don’t want to have to listen to a ten-minute rant from Duquesne because you’ve fallen over and hi
t your head again.”

   “That’s right,” Powell said. “You were the one that woman took hostage. Terrible situation. Tell me, are things always like this on Alamo?”

   “Usually,” Cooper replied.

   “Good,” he said with a smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. A nice, interesting cruise would suit me just fine.” They stepped into the mess, walking over to the fabricators. A small crowd had built up, most of the tables full of crewman relaxing after the stress of getting the ship ready for space.

   Alone, at a table in the corner, Scott sat, poking at a plate of food while Corporal Pavlov watched her, standing by the wall next to her with a glass of juice in his hand, his pistol ostentatiously at his belt. She looked up at Bradley, then looked down at the deck, her cheeks reddening.

   “Well, let’s see what we’ve got,” Powell said. “This looks a lot more advanced than the equipment we had in the War, though I doubt the end result will be much better. I presume chicken is still relatively safe.”

   “Usually,” Cooper said.

   Tapping for chicken salad, Powell was rewarded with a plate of food that looked borderline edible. With a shrug, Cooper copied him, but Bradley entered a code, a gloppy mess of red and brown smothering a plate of pasta sliding out of the slot.

   “What is that?”

   “Food,” she said. “They added some new programs.”

   “Must you always be the one to test them?” Cooper asked.

   “Now, where shall we sit?” Powell asked. “Over there.” He walked towards Scott’s table, taking a seat opposite her, and gestured for the others to join him. The would-be hijacker looked up at his approach, shock on her face, and seemed to retreat into herself as Cooper stepped over.

   “I think we’d prefer other company, if you don’t mind.”

   Looking around the room, Powell said, “Well, most of the other tables seem crowded, and I really don’t like knowing that there is someone sitting on their own who doesn’t want to be.”

   “She’s got Corporal Pavlov for company.”

   Glancing up at the fearsome Espatier, Powell said, “I think a slightly lighter touch is needed. You don’t mind me sitting with you, do you, my dear?” Scott shook her head, and he added, “Would you like me to fetch you something else? That doesn’t look particularly appetizing.”

   “No,” she said, quietly. “I’m not hungry. I should go.”

   Bradley looked as if she was about to agree, but Powell shot her a look that was briefly as cold as iron, before saying, “Not on my account. I insist that you should have something to eat. Corporal, if you would go and get one of these chicken salads for her, I would be most grateful.”

   Pavlov looked at Cooper in disbelief, and the officer said, “I’ll keep an eye, Corporal. Get yourself something to eat as well. I think we’re safe enough for the moment.”

   “My orders, sir…”

   “I’ll handle it, Volya. Go on.”

   “Looks like a good man,” Powell said, as Pavlov reluctantly moved over to the food slot. “Please, sit down.”

   Scott looked up at Cooper and Bradley, and said, “I don’t know if it means anything, but I really am sorry for what happened.” Shaking her head, she said, “It sounds so pathetic. I can’t remember any of it.”

   “Apology accepted,” Cooper said. “I think we really will find another table.”

   “Tell me,” Powell said, “I seem to remember you from the holocasts. Didn’t you win a medal for marksmanship in the ‘68 Olympics?” She nodded, and he said, “Seems astonishing that you could miss a target at such a close range.”

   “Is that true?” Bradley asked.

   “Doctor Duquesne said that,” Scott replied. “I don’t know whether I believe it or not. I don’t know how I could have done any of the things I did. The last thing I remember is being in my cabin, getting ready to go on duty, and then I wake up on Alamo’s hangar deck with a dozen rifles pointing at me.” She closed her eyes, tears beginning to well up, and said, “It’s so frustrating. What sort of a monster am I? What did I do?”

   “I don’t know,” Powell said, “and nor do any of us. And yet, the person who did those things is gone. She killed herself rather than face up to the consequences of her actions.”

   “A coward as well as a traitor,” she replied. “I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to be near me. I don’t want to be near myself.” With a sigh, she looked at Cooper, and said, “A part of me wishes that you’d shot to kill, rather than to disable.”

   Bradley sat down at the table, depositing her plate in front of her. Pavlov placed a chicken salad in front of Scott, then turned with his own food to walk to the far end of the room, taking a seat where he could still watch every move she made.

   “You really don’t remember anything?” Cooper asked

   “Some sort of implant. It wiped out the last six months of my life. Maybe I should be grateful.” Looking around the room, she said, “It’s crazy. This is what I wanted. To serve on this ship, out into the unknown. It’s why I joined the Fleet in the first place.”

   “Oh?” Powell asked.

   “I was working out where to go to school when Alamo got back from her mission to Ragnarok. They interviewed some of the senior officers, Captain Marshall, Lieutenant Orlova, Lieutenant Caine, and I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to go out there, fight the enemies of the Confederation on the frontier.” Closing her eyes, she said, “What have I done?”

   Nodding, Powell said, “And do you still feel the same way? Regardless of what the woman who died on the hangar deck thought, how do you feel?”

   “I want to help. I want to stop them. I want to do my duty.” Sighing, she added, “Not that I know what I can do. Lieutenant Nelyubov questioned me, but I can’t remember anything that will be of any help, and I know that no-one will trust me to do anything. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. I wouldn’t go near me.”

   Looking at Bradley, Cooper said, “Maybe something will turn up. If they don’t know that you’ve been captured, then you might be able to help us out. Perhaps some of your memories will return.”

   Shaking her head, Scott said, “Doctor Duquesne looked into it. They’re gone forever.”

   “I can’t quite imagine what that must be like,” Bradley said. “To wake up and realize that months of your life are lost.”

   “All of it feels so strange. I would never have done anything like that, would never have turned against the Confederation, and yet for some reason, I did. I betrayed my oath, I betrayed my country, and I betrayed myself.”

   “Powell to Quinn,” the old man said.

   “Quinn here,” the engineer said with a tired sigh. “What’s the problem?”

   “No problem. I just thought you might be able to use some help.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I understand that one of the elevator airlocks is in a pretty poor condition.”

   “We’ll have it fixed before we return to normal space. It isn’t difficult work, but it’s going to be time-consuming, and everything will have to be double-checked.”

   “Sub-Lieutenant Scott has volunteered to make the necessary repairs. I will vouch for her, and she will be under guard at all times.”

   “She’s the one who broke it!”

   “Then it seems only reasonable that she is responsible for the repairs.” Looking across the table, he said, “You don’t have any objection, do you, Sub-Lieutenant?”

   Leaning forward, she replied, “Anything I can do, anything that is useful. If I stay in my cabin, I’ll go crazy.” Shaking her head, she continued, “Assuming I’m not already.”

   “Well?” Powell asked.

   “Why not?” Quinn said with a resigned sigh. “I suppose I can’t turn down a spare pair of hands. Send her down, and I’ll make sure she’s got everything she needs waiting for her. It’s going to be messy as hell, t
hough.”

   “I’m sure she can handle it. Powell out.” With a smile, he said to Scott, “I think you can take that with you. Maybe you’ll be hungrier after you’ve had a chance to do some work. Run along.”

   “Corporal,” Cooper said, “You’ve had some engineering training. Give her a hand.”

   “Aye, sir,” he replied uncertainly, as Scott snatched up the plate, heading for the door. The babble of conversation silenced for a moment as she left, all eyes on her, before resuming as the two of them vanished down the corridor.

   Bradley looked at Powell, and asked, “Why?”

   “Because, my dear, I could see myself sitting there alone at that table, longing for someone to come and talk to me, yet afraid to make the first move.”

   “What do you mean?” Cooper asked.

   “I joined, I should say re-joined, the Fleet because six months ago, my wife died.” He smiled, and said, “We met during the War, both on the same ship. I was Astrogator, she was Tactical. Four years we were here on Alamo.” He looked around, and said, “It’s good to be back.”

   “You served on this ship? I thought she was with the Orbital Patrol?”

   “It was never quite so stark as that. There was always a shortage of officers, you see. And my wife was Callistan, so I was the only interloper. After the War, we got married, and I went back to teaching Cosmology at Syrtis Tech, while she got a job teaching Literature. Both professors, both tenured, looking forward to retiring next year.”

   He paused, then said, “It only took a couple of days. Nothing they could treat, nothing they could cure. I took a month off, then went back to work.” His gaze elsewhere, he continued, “For fifteen years, we had lunch together every day, arguing about something or another, ferocious debates that we’d forgive over dinner. When I went back, the table was there, I was there, but she wasn’t. And no matter how long I waited, how hard I looked, she wasn’t there.”

   “I’m sorry,” Cooper said.

   “So, I thought I’d get a change of scenery, and I applied to return to the Fleet on a three-year tour, on the condition that I was assigned to deep-space duty, with this ship as my first choice. An old friend arranged it for me, you might know his daughter.”