Victory or Death Page 7

  "I'm beginning to get the feeling we're not welcome." He pointed at a rocky outcrop, half a mile from the settlement. "Put her down behind that. I want the shuttle to have some cover."

  "Aye, sir. Be good to get my feet on the ground."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, Steele, but you're staying in that pilot's seat until I'm sure we can risk leaving the shuttle unattended."

  Her face fell, but it didn't seem to affect her concentration; playing the thrusters underneath the craft, she kicked up a cloud of dust, the accumulation of millennia, and extended the landing legs. With a slight jolt, the shuttle came to a halt. Marshall clapped her on the back.

  "Nice touchdown." He threw a switch. "Everyone back there get suited up."

  "Sir," Esposito said from the rear compartment, "You'd best remain on board until we can get the landing site secured. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes for my gang to get firing positions set up."

  He thought about arguing for a second, then replied, "Very well, Ensign. Under no circumstances are any of the troopers to fire first. Let's keep the high ground on this one."

  "Aye, sir." She sounded a little hurt as the channel closed. He climbed out of his seat to the rear of the compartment and donned his spacesuit, Steele checking over the joints and connections as he did so. His helmet on, he climbed into the pilot's airlock; though he was going to wait for Esposito's all clear, he wanted to be out on the surface as soon as possible. Frustration crept across Steele's face as the airlock door closed.

  Chatter danced across the comm channels as the squad deployed, dividing up into fire teams and assuming cover positions where they could do the most good. No sign of any opposition so far, in fact, no sign of anything. If it wasn't for the lights going off, he might be tempted to suspect that his settlement was abandoned.

  "Gabi, can I come out and play now?" Duquesne said over the channel; Marshall smiled in response.

  "Area secure, Captain," Esposito formally reported, and Marshall tapped the button to exhaust the airlock, taking his first step onto the desolate terrain. The purple dust was everywhere, staining his boots; the suits of the espatiers were already covered in it. Esposito was over by the first fire team, and he made his way over to her, careful to stay in cover.

  "No sign of any activity, sir," she reported.

  "Time for me to go in, then."

  She put her hand on his arm, "Sir, that's my job. Let me go forward with a fire team."

  "If we go forward with a fire team, they'll assume we're hostile. No point inviting trouble."

  Unseen by either of them, Duquesne had left the shuttle, and stepped out of cover, walking towards the structure. One of the troopers made an attempt to go after her, but an order from Sergeant Kozu brought him back to his fire position, ducking back into cover. Marshall looked after her, shaking his head.

  "Doctor, come back at once."

  "Someone has to try and make contact with them, instead of just standing around arguing."

  Shrugging in his suit, Marshall climbed up over the rocks, heading after her, ignoring an accusatory glare from Esposito. He could make out a structure ahead, a collection of modules bolted together, a slight green tint to one of them. The structure couldn't hold more than a hundred people, he guessed; it looked like an early version of the pre-fabricated prospecting bases from the outer system. He caught up with Duquesne, and clicked a communications line between them, getting past her waving arm.

  "Do we need this thing?"

  "Even if they are friendly, we might need to say things they can't hear."

  As they got to within a few hundred meters, a series of bullets smashed into the ground ahead of them, forming a line. On pure instinct, Marshall dove for the nearest cover, dragging the doctor after him. He looked around, trying to make out where the bullets came from, but there didn't seem to be any sign of a sniper.

  "Captain? Are you all right?" Esposito said urgently.

  "Both fine, Ensign. Maintain your position."

  "I can be up there in support in two minutes."

  "And expose yourself to fire. Hold your position unless I send for you. That's an order."

  He pulled his sidearm out of his holster, holding it out in front of him, then peered cautiously over the rocks. He could just make out an airlock on the side of one of the modules, covered in the ubiquitous dust. A high, piercing whine then began to echo through his helmet, giving him a brief splitting headache before the suit managed to deaden the noise.

  "Leave immediately," a voice said in Mandarin; the suit provided an instant translation, and he set his transmitter to broadcast in the same language.

  "Who is this?" Marshall replied.

  "That doesn't matter. Just go away, or you'll answer to the Republic!"

  "The Triplanetary Confederation is at peace with the Lunar Republic. Are you their representative, or colony?"

  "That is no concern of yours. Get back into your shuttle, and take off."

  Switching frequencies, Marshall called Esposito, "Did you see what they fired?"

  "Looked like an old low-g machine gun, sir."

  "If they had anything more powerful, do you think they would have used it?"

  "Probably. They'd want to impress us."

  "So nothing that could penetrate the shuttle, then."

  Duquesne cut in, "If they want us to leave, why don't we?"

  "If the Republic has an installation here, why keep it a secret, Doctor? Either they're hiding something, in which case we need to know exactly what that is, or this is someone trying to scare us. And don't forget, we landed in response to a distress signal. Someone down here wants help, and I intend to find out what."

  He changed frequencies again, "Alamo picked up a distress signal when it reached orbit. What is your emergency?"

  "No concern of yours. We thought you were a Republic vessel; that signal was not meant for you."

  Pausing, Marshall pondered for a second before replying, "If you are waiting for a vessel out of Ragnarok, I must inform you that it has become an Associated State of the Triplanetary Confederation. There won't be any Republic ships out of there for a long time."

  "Just..." There was a loud report over the channel, then a series of scuffling noises, as if a struggle was taking place over the transmitter.

  "OK, Esposito, go, go, go."

  Leaping over the rocks, Marshall raced forward, taking advantage of the confusion and hoping that it extended to whoever was at the other end of the machine gun. He zigzagged towards the airlock, Duquesne following close behind. With every step he was ready to jump into cover, waiting for the blast of bullets, but they never came. With a deep sigh, he slammed his fist on the airlock emergency release, and was surprised when it flashed from red to green, and the door opened.

  "Sir, wait for us,. It might be a trap," Kozu said.

  "Negative. Follow when you get here." Duquesne stood next to him in the airlock as the outer door closed, looking down at the pistol still clenched in his fist. Nodding, he placed it back in his holster; if this was some sort of a trap, a pistol probably wasn't going to do him any good. The pressure indicator slowly rose, and he could hear the hissing of atmosphere filling the airlock. Carefully, he unlocked his helmet, waiting for alarms from his warning systems that never came. The inner door opened, revealing a modified habitation module that had obviously seen far better days; inside, a man lay on the floor, bruises beginning to appear on his face, and two other men stood around, both with guns out but pointed at the ground.

  "How many more of you?" Marshall said.

  One of them replied, "Fourteen in this complex. Another twelve in the other settlements."

  "I take it your friend was less than happy to meet us."

  "Our orders were to hold this planet until relieved by a Republic vessel. That vessel is now seven months overdue; that is the only reason why I have opted to undertake this course of action."

  Duquesne said, "You're out of supplies, aren't you."

  "The
hydroponic farms here are deficient. We require nutritional supplements, medicines, and spare parts for the colony's life support systems if we are to remain on this facility until we are picked up."

  "Frankly, I'm surprised the Republic hasn't come to get you," Marshall said. He was interrupted by the sound of the airlock cycling, and quickly pulled out his communicator. "Ensign, stand down. Ceasefire."

  "Roger." The airlock cycled, and Esposito walked out, her rifle by her side, a pair of espatiers flanking her. Both the Republic technicians looked at each other, as if wondering if they had made the right decision.

  "Who are you, anyway? You have me at a disadvantage."

  "I am Xun Wu," the first one said, and gesturing to the other, "Zhao Bai. Both of us are Senior NCOs in the Republic Fleet; our unconscious commander is Senior Lieutenant Song."

  "I'll make a deal with you. Alamo will provide you with the supplies you require for another, say, six months, and in exchange, you will answer some questions." He raised a hand, "I will undertake to limit my questions to details of your presence on this planet."

  They looked at each other, and Xun nodded, "Our officer would doubtless object, but I have children back on Luna. I accept your terms, Captain Marshall. My counterpart will transmit our requirements to your vessel, and I will provide you with the briefing you require. In exchange for one additional request; testimony from yourself that will provide support to our actions regarding Senior Lieutenant Song."

  Marshall looked at Esposito, who nodded, "I'll see you have sworn testimony from myself and two other officers before we leave. Ensign, if you would assist NCO Zhao in relaying his requirements up to Mr. Dietz?"

  "Aye, sir. What about the rest of my men?"

  "Have them take up defensive positions outside the base." He shrugged at Xun, "It isn't that I don't trust you, but I can't afford to take any risks."

  "I quite understand."

  The NCO pulled out a couple of folding chairs, placing them around a worn metal table, and Marshall took a seat, taking the opportunity for his first good look around the room. While this pod had been well-used, it had evidently also been well-loved; there were paintings and drawings on the walls, writing in a language Marshall couldn't recognize but in a hand that could only be that of a child, a rack of well-thumbed books, real paper books, on the wall. Xun noticed his eyes wandering.

  "This is essentially as we found it. Unoccupied."

  "The station had been abandoned? What of the others?"

  "I see the interrogation has begun." Xun smiled, then replied, "To the best of my knowledge, the first expedition here discovered the settlement in its current abandoned state two years ago. Six months later our team was landed here on what was meant to be a one-year expedition, to evaluate whether this planet could be opened up as a base for Republic activities from Ragnarok." He paused, folding his hands, "Your presence here would suggest that our plans for that planet had failed."

  "As of last month, Ragnarok is an Associated State of the Triplanetary Confederation."

  Shaking his head, he replied, "A most impressive title. Our other goal was to learn the fate of the planet's inhabitants, and ultimately we failed in this accomplishment, though our fool of an officer disagreed." Zhao looked sharply at his compatriot, who shrugged, "I speak nothing but the truth. The great mystery of this world remains."

  "Did you learn anything?"

  "This planet was settled by a group from the Russian Federal Union, the Tatars. There were five thousand of them, and then a catastrophe caused much devastation; I presume you saw the asteroid impact on the other side of the planet."

  "Yes."

  "That was forty-five years ago. Since then the planet's population had shrunk, and some very depressing literature was written. The suicide rate was high, and the colony was failing, and without a sponsor to rescue them, they were doomed. Their last census, eleven years ago, had only nine hundred entries."

  Marshall's eyes widened. "What happened to them?"

  "The final log entry we could find on the colony's computers was made nine years ago. Since then, there has been nothing. No sign of life, no sign of activity, everything left to crumble and decay. It is as if a force reached down and swept this planet clear of life, overnight. Not that we have determined what that might be. My presumption is that they were evacuated, but there is no-one to evacuate them! I presume your people did not do it?"

  "You presume correctly. We didn't even know about this settlement until we arrived in the system."

  Leaning back in his chair, Xun said, "If the United Nations had discovered the colony and rescued its people, they would have used it as a propaganda coup. As, indeed, would my people, most likely."

  "As would the Confederation."

  "Which leads me to the conclusion that there is a force out there unknown to us, which nine years ago visited this planet and took almost a thousand people with it. I am not a superstitious man, Captain, but there is a quality to this place that is not natural."

  "What of the space station?"

  "Destroyed before we arrived. I presume a survey was made, but I was not privy to the results."

  Marshall scratched his chin in thought, "Can this base be opened up again?"

  "It would take substantial resupply and new construction, but it might be possible. If there was a reason to do so, the bases here could be reopened."

  "I'd like a copy of all the data you uncovered about this planet. Everything you have learned about the colonists and their fate."

  Nodding, Xun said, "I will provide you with the information you seek. Have you any idea why the Republic has not come for us, Captain?"

  "Their resources are badly stretched at the moment. Had they told us you were here, we would have happily dispatched a vessel to pick you up."

  Glancing up at the ceiling for a second, the NCO replied, "Would it be possible for us to return on Alamo? I will guarantee that my men will behave correctly."

  Shaking his head, Marshall replied, "That won't be possible. Alamo has...other duties that we must attend to. However, once we have concluded our current assignment, I will report your situation to my senior officers. If the Republic doesn't get to you, one of our ships will come and pick you up."

  "I suspect your Combined Chiefs would not easily reject a propaganda coup of that nature. I thank you for your consideration, Captain."

  "If any of your staff need medical check-ups, Doctor Duquesne will be only too happy to provide."

  "Thank you, no. Much as your doctor's prowess in combat impressed me, I think the spirit of co-operation has already been pushed as far as possible for one evening."

  Esposito came over, "It's quite a list, sir, but Mr. Quinn is confident that we can have it ready in two days, without affecting Alamo's flight status." The last five words were underlined so heavily Marshall could almost see it, and the point was not lost on Xun. Was there a trace of disappointment there? If there was, it was fleeting.

  "I thank you once again, Captain." The unconscious officer began to groan. "If you will excuse me, I must take steps to ensure that my commanding officer does not do anything rash."

  Chapter 9

  Orlova watched Foster fidget as the two of them waited on the bridge. The Captain had summoned them to his office as soon as he'd returned to the ship, and was making his way up from the hangar deck while the watch tried to ignore them, though Kibaki had thrown Orlova a few sympathetic looks when no-one else was noticing from the guidance control station. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Marshall strode through the elevator doors, marching across the bridge in three strides to his office.

  "Both of you, get in here now," he growled.

  Harper walked in, slouching against the desk, while Orlova made the best attempt she could at standing to attention. Marshall looked Harper up and down, shaking his head. Taking the hint, the young hacker took her hands off the desk, resting them by her side, and he sat down behind his desk. Pulling a datapad out of his pocket, he wav
ed it at the two of them.

  "I got the report on your little stunt when I was on the shuttle ride home. Have you anything to say for yourselves?"

  Looking straight ahead, Orlova said, "I take full responsibility, sir."

  Crunching her face, Harper turned first to Orlova then to Marshall, "I'm the one who did it."

  "Sub-Lieutenant Orlova, nevertheless, is in the right. As senior officer, the mission was her responsibility." Something in his face had mellowed slightly at their words; Harper didn't know Marshall well enough to spot it, but Orlova did. At least, she thought she did.

  "Spaceman Harper, did Sub-Lieutenant Orlova give you orders to use conventional data mining to obtain the needed data from the station?"

  "Sure, but I knew it wouldn't work. I dug out one of my spiders instead."

  "A piece of intrusion software that triggered all the antiviral protection, resulting in the loss of," he looked down at the datapad again, "more than sixty percent of the data. Not to mention damn near killing Sub-Lieutenant Orlova."

  "How was I to know what would happen? I figured it was all old stuff anyway."

  Slamming his hands on the desk, Marshall rose to his feet, "You weren't to know. That's the problem, spaceman. You didn't know. Had you followed the correct procedures, we would have retrieved all of the data with no risk to anyone."

  "The data mining might have triggered the software, sir," Orlova said. "And if this a formal hearing, she did save my life."

  "After risking it in the first place."

  "I thought we were in a hurry. There was a missile fifty feet from us and debris everywhere," Harper said.

  "Harper, you don't seem to understand. You aren't in charge. I am the commander of this ship, and Sub-Lieutenant Orlova is your department head. What we say goes. Instantly. Without any thought. If we want input, we will ask for it, and you will be expected to provide it to the best of your ability, but there are times when you must simply do as you are damn well told."

  "Even if I know better.” A statement rather than a question.

  Sighing, Marshall sat down at his desk, shaking his head, "It's a pity, spaceman, but I don't see how I can trust you. You aren't giving me any reason to. I'm going to have you t..."