Battlecruiser Alamo_Depth Charge Page 9

   Walpis glanced at Reeves, then pulled Salazar onto his back, ignoring his calls of protest, and started to run down the corridor towards the ladder. Ghaison was racing ahead, frantically working a control panel, Monroe charging down towards him, as the now-unified group desperately tried to reach the decompression bulkhead. The hiss was loud enough to drown out all other noise, but that wouldn't last long. The noise of the sirens was already growing fainter, fading away as the pressure dropped.

   “Damn it!” Ghaison said. “It won't close!”

   “Move,” Monroe ordered, and the trooper stepped to the right to allow her access to the controls. As the last of the party passed over the threshold, she finally forced the system into life, and a low, ominous grinding noise echoed around the corridor, Salazar's vision blurring from the lack of air, until finally the seal locked into position, securing the exposed part of the deck.

   Gasping for breath, Walpis said, “We're no safer here than we were back there. Can we postpone this argument for some other time and get back to our ships?”

   “Under the circumstances,” Monroe panted, “I'm forced to agree. You haven't heard the end of this, though. None of you.”

  Chapter 10

   The outside of the station was a confused mess of tangling cables, redundant communication arrays and abandoned equipment, a maze that Harper struggled to pick through, hanging as close to the hull as she dared in her suit. Behind her, Cooper watched her back, gently firing his thrusters to keep up with her. She shook her head, taking a gulp as she ducked under a smashed solar array.

   “Why do I always end up going EVA?” she asked.

   “Wasn't this your idea?” he replied.

   “Don't remind me. The next time I suggest something stupid, hit me over the head a few times. That's a direct order.”

   “I'll try and remember,” he said with a chuckle. His tone becoming more serious, he continued, “Watch your heading, you're drifting a little too far from the hull. We've got to keep close or risk being picked up.” After a pause, he continued, “Kolchak will only be in shadow for another twenty minutes. Assuming their local detectors haven't already picked us up.”

   “Cheer up,” she replied. “We're almost there. Two minutes and we'll be in range.” Tugging out her vacuum-proofed datapad, she hooked it up to her suit, fumbling the connector into position, tying it into her suit computer. Images and text flashed up on her heads-up display, and she started to filter through the data. An alert winked up on her screen, and she said, “Salazar and Foster have reached their target. I've got the co-ordinates.” She paused, then added, “They did pretty damn well, too. I've got almost all of the security data I needed. That's going to make it easier.”

   With a sigh, Cooper replied, “You're going to owe both of them a lot of drinks when we get back to Alamo, you know. Using them as decoys once without their knowledge was bad enough, but using them again...”

   “Was just obvious enough that they wouldn't have expected it. Besides, I'm pretty sure Pavel guessed. That look he gave me would have melted lead.” She glanced down at the data readout, and said, “We're here. I need to link up to the hull. Cover me.”

   “Got it.”

   Firing her thrusters in a careful series of pulses, she drifted in close to the hull, pulling out another connector. On her helmet, an overview of the data network flashed on, overlaid onto the hull. All she had to do was get close enough for a good, clean signal. Perfection wasn't necessary. Two more blasts sent her into the hull, and she clamped the transmitter in position to a nearby, stubby aerial, the components old enough to have been vacuum-welded to the hull.

   Her heads-up display was a riot of color as it struggled with the unfamiliar interface, threatening to crash from system instability as a sea of warning lights appeared down the side of her arm. One by one, they winked out as the custom datapad took control of her suit functions, leeching into her minimal network.

   Behind her, Cooper moved into position, plasma pistol extended, slowly revolving to get a good visual look at their surroundings, his sensors transmitting pulses of telemetry to her suit, millisecond reassurance that they were safe, at least for the moment. Now she could get to work.

   The hacking datarod she'd given Foster was sending its information just as she'd planned, feeding into her own programs, giving them a head-start in cracking the system. As expected, Kolchak's crew had massively augmented the local security, throwing in a lot of programs that hadn't yet been generally released, a few she'd only heard of. Even if she didn't get the plans she was looking for, this mission would have been worthwhile from an intelligence-gathering standpoint.

   Over her speakers, Herb's voice said, “Hurry up, you two! A load of alarms just went off down here, some sort of decompression leak. There's a lot of activity around this airlock.”

   “Decompression?” Cooper asked.

   “Don't ask me,” Herb replied. “Just move. It's getting dangerous around here.”

   “This will take as long as it needs to take,” Harper muttered, loading a new series of programs. If the UN was going to use cutting-edge software, she'd have to respond in kind. Not that it mattered. She'd been longing to give some of the new programs a try for weeks, anyway. She passed through the first level of security, nodding with a contented smile as the firewall seemed to melt away, before running headlong into the second. More warnings sounded from her suit as more and more of her processing power was fed into the battle, a war fought between teams of top-ranked software designers, none of whom were within twenty light-years of this system.

   “Wow!” Cooper said. “Fountain of air, about three hundred yards away. Debris as well. Looks like a serious hull breach.”

   “You're not kidding,” Herb replied. “I'm suiting up, just in case. That's a bit too close to this airlock for me.”

   “Could you both pipe down,” Harper said. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

   She was through the second level, and time was now of the essence. A human would have been notified of her intrusion by this time, and the first thing they would do is contact her counterpart on Kolchak, someone with infinitely greater processing power at their disposal. Enough that this little battle would come to an abrupt end in a few minutes.

   One more level, and now she knew that someone was actively working against her, trading electronic blow for blow as she worked, parrying and thrusting with security programs as she sought to get in under his defenses, reach through to extract the information she was looking for, the designs that Alamo needed to complete its improvised mission.

   It almost came as a shock when she succeeded, the security cracking away at an attack she hadn't really expected would hit home, as though the other side had simply given up, was allowing her to win. Instantly she suspected a trap, gently probing around, but it seemed as though she had struck a far greater blow than she had expected.

   “I'm in,” she said. “Stand by.”

   “At last,” Herb replied. “I'm not being paid enough for this.”

   Her search algorithms raced into life, pre-selected filters designed by Quinn to obtain the information he needed, sifting through the file and sending anything that looked interesting back to Alamo. Now they really would be in danger, any transmitter for miles able to intercept their coded transmission, even if they couldn't read it. Normal doctrine would have her store the data for later, physical transfer, but this time the risk of capture exceeded the risk of detection.

   On and on her search ran, the files far larger than she had expected. Doubtless other critical information was being missed by the filters, other intelligence that could be of enormous value, but Orlova had rejected her plan for a larger-scale hack. Keeping the data they stole limited to the submersible plans might give them a chance of keeping this containable. No matter how she covered her traces, the UN Sysop would know exactly who was responsible for this, beyond any conceivable doubt.

>    At least the end was now in sight, the file search slowing as it rooted through the older, archived files. If she had to, she'd leave now, but a common trick was to bury the critical information down here, where the inexperienced often failed to look.

   “Thirty seconds,” she said.

   “Hurry up,” he replied. “I'm picking up something on the sensors. Don't look now, but I think we've got incoming.”

   She watched the readout as it ticked towards completion, urging it on, counting each second as the last few files began to download. Glancing across at her sensor display, she saw two dots heading in their direction, and started to work the plasma pistol she was officially not permitted to have free of its holster, running through the charge sequence.

   “Careful, Kris,” Cooper said. “Rules of engagement. We don't get to fire first today.”

   “Which leaves us as sitting ducks,” she replied.

   “Better that than start a war.”

   Pausing for a second, she smiled, and replied, “I've got an idea.”

   Sliding to a different display, she ran through the life support systems, looking for the emergency airlocks. The last thing anyone wanted was for them to be difficult to access, but rigging them to open without venting atmosphere first was going to be tougher. As the last of the data flew through the ether to Alamo, she glanced up at the sensor readings, watching the two figures get closer and closer.

   “Done,” she said.

   “Great. Let's move.”

   “Not yet,” she replied, watching as they moved into position. As they reached the right spot, she slammed a control, and a second fountain of air briefly flew out into vacuum, the two figures spinning away from the station, caught by a blast more powerful than their thrusters, their jets pulsing in a desperate attempt to get them back on course.

   “I think we'll have a clear run back to the airlock,” she replied.

   “Crap!” Herb yelled. “Someone coming down the corridor. I'm getting out of here!”

   “So much for our escape route,” Cooper said. “Alamo, switching to voice frequency, do you read me?”

   “Orlova to Cooper. I was about to break silence myself. All hell has broken loose on the station. Make no attempt to board; I'm sending a shuttle across to pick you up. Contact in five minutes.”

   “We might not be here in five minutes, Captain,” Harper said, looking at her scanner. “We've got multiple incoming contacts.”

   “Do the best you can,” she replied, “but remember the rules of engagement. Don't fire unless they do. And hope to hell they don't, given what is at stake. Alamo out.”

   “No point hiding any more,” Cooper said, turning to put the station at his back, then slamming on his jets. “The shuttle will pick us up no matter what trajectory we're on, and if they know we here, this stealth run is pointless.”

   Harper followed, frowning, and replied, “I still don't know how they picked us up. There were no exterior sensor arrays in that area, and were close enough to the hull that the main detectors should have missed us completely.”

   “We'll worry about that later,” Cooper said. “Two more contacts, right behind us.”

   Switching her camera pickup, she looked at the approaching figures, her eyes widening. They were armed, but not with anything she had ever seen before. Their weapons looked more like harpoons, long rolls of cable dragging behind them, with a blade at their top that her systems identified as diamond-tipped. She looked down at her armor, the usual fears flooding back. All that protected her from the cold death of space was a worrying thin later of plastofabric. They couldn't use space armor, not and maintain any semblance of stealth. Those weapons would slice through them like a corpse through butter.

   “What the hell are they?” Cooper asked.

   “Your guess is as good as mine. I'm going to have some harsh words with Weapons Intelligence when we get back, though.”

   “Switch to evasive action on your thrusters,” he ordered. “I doubt we'll be able to move quickly enough to get past those damn things, but random walk might just give us an edge.”

   Tapping a sequence into her wrist computer, Harper's suit thrusters started tossing her around, first one way, then another, putting her into a spin that it didn't even attempt to contemplate. A warning alert sounded on her systems, an object approaching at high speed, and she realized that the first of the harpoons must have been fired. It flew past her, almost close enough to touch, before reaching the end of its tether and recoiling back, quickly being retracted for another try. Another lanced out towards Cooper, a wider miss, but likewise sped back towards the launcher.

   She looked down at her fuel gauge, providing a depressing report. As soon as they ran out of boost, they'd be sitting ducks for an attack, and at the rate they were squandering it, their thrusters would be inert in less than two minutes. At the extreme edge of her scanner, she could make out the shuttle, homing in on them from Alamo, but as far as she could tell, at best it would arrive in time to make sure that they got a proper burial.

   “Two more contacts,” Cooper said. “Six now, damn it.”

   “They've taken the first shot,” she replied.

   “So they have.” Spinning on his thrusters, he fired a burst of green energy from his pistol, a ball of plasma leaping across space, but it soared well clear of its target as the enemy troopers began to execute evasive manoeuvres of our own. Harper attempted a shot of her own, but missed by an even wider margin, almost enough to hit the side of the station.

   “That isn't going to work,” Cooper replied, turning back to his original course. “They've got more fuel than we do, and they can maneuver longer.” He looked down at his sensor display, and added, “Not to mention that they have four more suits coming towards us at full thrust.”

   Frowning, Harper said, “They've gone to random walk a little early, haven't they?” The four figures were dancing around the screen, burning their fuel with a reckless disregard for its expenditure, soaring through space.

   “Just being careful, I guess,” Cooper said. “They aren't going to play any part in this battle, anyway. Are your fuel readings any better than mine?”

   “I wish,” she replied.

   As the status display switched from minutes to seconds, a new, larger blip appeared on the scanner, heading towards them at high speed from the station.

   “I'll be damned,” Cooper said. “Someone's dragged a chariot out of mothballs for the party.”

   “What?”

   “A fuel tank with four seats and a rocket at the rear. Used for long-range transfers back before suit thrusters got that good.” He paused, then said, “We'll be getting a good look at it in thirty seconds. He's just turned around for deceleration.”

   “Anyone order a cab?” Herb said, breaking into their frequency, switching to an encryption code he should never have had access to. “I've got two tickets to the Battlecruiser Alamo, one-way express.”

   “Taxi!” Harper yelled, using the last of her fuel to speed towards him. Their pursuers had obviously seen him coming, were altering course in a futile attempt to intercept him, but despite a few last-second stabs with their harpoons, they couldn't make it in time. He glided in next to them with an expertise born of long practice, and Harper clambered on the back, strapping herself into a seat, Cooper only a second behind her. He barely waited until they were secure before running the engine back up to full, curving through space towards the incoming shuttle.

   “Herb, thanks,” Cooper said. “If you ever need a job, you can sign up with me any day of the week.”

   “Don't worry about that, Ensign. I've already got one.” He turned to Harper, and said, “I never did get around to giving you my full name.”

   “Herbert Grainger.”

   “Close,” he replied. “My real name is Zheng Hue. I'm with Republic Intelligence, assigned to monitor this system. Sorry I couldn't break c
over any sooner, but I was rather curious about what you were up to out here.”

   “I thought you took to this a bit easily,” Harper said, shaking her head.

   “I take it you are on our side,” Cooper said, eyeing the agent carefully.

   With a smile, he said, “Relax, Ensign, I'm with you. Republic and Triplanetary Intelligence have been working hand in glove since the Spitfire Incident. Especially where non-humans are concerned. As long as you don't mind me making a report back to my superiors, we're going to get along just fine.”

   “Do I have a choice?”

   “Be nice to the good man, Gabe,” Harper said.

   “Then why not contact us as soon as we arrived?” Cooper asked.

   Glancing back at the two other figures, now giving up the chase to turn back to their friends, he replied, “I couldn't. Not only wasn't I sure what you were up to, but I didn't want to break my cover unless it was necessary. Besides, I thought you might find it helpful to have an ace in the hole.” He paused, then said, “I'll have to head home on the next transport, I guess.”

   “I'll make sure you have some good intelligence to take back with you,” Harper replied. “Least we can do after this. Where did you find that beast.”

   “Harper, check your scanner!” Cooper said. “What the hell is happening back there?”

   Flicking over to her scope, she saw four figures converging on two, and then a series of quick pulses as the harpoons lashed out, catching the smaller group, dragging the bodies back towards their killers. She glanced at Herb, who shook his head.

   “I'm sorry. I thought it was just the two of you out here.”

   “It was,” Cooper said. “I thought they were UN.”

   Looking at Herb, Harper said, “I think there is something more going on out here than we counted on. Under the circumstances, you'll be a lot safer on Alamo for the moment.”

   “Trust me, my personal safety is of the highest priority to me. I'll take the sanctuary.”

   “Orlova to Harper! What the hell is going on!”