Battlecruiser Alamo: Tip of the Spear Read online

  Still, under normal circumstances, with proper aerial surveillance and air support, it wouldn't have been that bad an idea, especially with the limited manpower they had. To be fair, such events were buried deep in their operating procedures – no-one had ever expected to fight this sort of a battle. All of them were starting from scratch.

  There was a knock on the door; Orlova grunted, "Come in," and Forrest stepped into the room, flanked by the other two privates. All of them were old friends of hers, all three of them had been with her on the Ragnarok mission. She couldn't believe how old Grant looked; the last time they had fought together he had been a fresh-faced young man. Now his face bore a pair of scars, a permanent reminder of his battle on that snowy moon.

  Forrest saluted, "Ma'am, may I say something first?"

  "I understand." Orlova looked up, "You are as guilty as Zabek, you should have seen the danger, should have given better advice. Does that about sum it up?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "All of that is true. But unless I missed something, Zabek is the officer and you the NCO. That means it was her responsibility and her mistake, and I consider it as such. If you think that unfair, then resolve to do better next time."

  "May I speak freely, ma'am?" The old veteran smiled thinly at her as she nodded. "You've really grown up this last year. Takes a rare officer to talk to an NCO like that."

  "I'm glad you approve." She pointed down at the map. "There's an obvious way through down the river that I have no intention of taking. The engineering team will undoubtedly have followed that path, then cut inland here." She gestured with a hacking motion. "We'll go through the bush, parallel to the path. Close enough to hear someone crying for help, not close enough to be seen."

  Blake whistled. "That's going to take a lot longer, ma'am."

  "Better late than dead, Private. We strike to the observation site and then head right back for the river. Fire off a flare and one of the boats can pick us up. Any comments?"

  Forrest nodded, "None from me, Sub. Looks watertight."

  "Couldn't we just take a boat upriver?" Blake asked. "We'd get there a hell of a lot quicker."

  "You just don't want to get those new boots of yours muddy," Grant said.

  Smiling, Orlova replied, "If there's someone out there, I want to give them a nice surprise. If we go down the river on a boat they'll hear us coming with enough time to melt into the undergrowth."

  That made the sergeant frown, "Ma'am, they know this terrain a hell of a lot better than we do. Most likely they would be the once giving us the surprise."

  Orlova reached under the desk, pulled out her plasma rifle, and dropped it down with a clatter, "Peace through superior firepower, Sergeant."

  "Doesn't work if there's a sniper about," the sergeant pressed.

  "In that terrain?" Blake said. "We can't see ten meters through that undergrowth."

  Grant looked nervously from side to side, "Ma'am, I know we've got to find out what happened to Dobson and the others, but is the ambush realistic? We could just strike in from the river, bring them home, and head back."

  Looking at the three of them, Orlova shook her head, "Then we cede all of the initiative to them. They know this jungle better than we do. Today. We've got to change that, as best we can."

  The door opened, and the lithe figure of Tahir walked into the room, looking around at the soldiers.

  "Am I interrupting you?" he said in his accented English.

  Orlova's eyes widened, "I didn't even know you were here."

  "I arrived a few moments ago; Ensign Zabek suggested that I might be of use to you."

  That made the young sub-lieutenant smile. Evidently her midshipman was beginning to learn. "You can indeed. Three of our men are missing, out on this hill here."

  The Tatar peered down at the map, nodding. "I will leave at once, and return by nightfall with news of your men. If I can borrow a radio, I can tell you if they require medical assistance." His tone did not suggest that he considered that at all likely. In her heart of hearts, neither did Orlova.

  "That isn't how it's going to be. I'd like you to lead the four of us through the jungle."

  "Loaded down with all of that equipment, and weapons such as those? They will see you miles away, hear you still further."

  "Perhaps, but they are our men." She placed her hands on the desk, and continued. "The four of us are going, that much is settled. The only question is whether you are going to accompany us or not."

  The young hunter raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded, "Very well."

  "Thanks. We've got to learn the jungle if we are going to fight in it. This is as good a time as any to start."

  "I suppose there is some wisdom in what you say. Nevertheless it feels as if I am trying to teach a child to swim by throwing him in the river without a rope."

  "Draw what equipment you need from the stores."

  Tahir nodded, and wordlessly left the room. Silence descended as the four of them did anything over than look into each other's eyes, examining the map, the walls, the gun. Finally it was Forrest who said what they were all thinking.

  "Sub, do you trust him?"

  Orlova sighed, and replied, "I don't think we've got very much choice but to trust him. We've got to make some friends on this planet. We certainly have enough enemies to go round." She shook her head again. "You'd better go over to stores yourself and get kitted up. Remember that we're traveling light."

  "A light pack certainly sounds good to me," Blake said, a cheeky grin on his face.

  "Dismissed," Orlova said, watching the three of them as they left the room, then turning back to face the map. She was about to lead three men into the jungle, led by a man she had met the day before who she suspected didn't like them very much, to face an unknown group of enemies who had probably already killed on team out there in terrain they knew better than she knew the corridors of Alamo. Perhaps she wasn't so much smarter than Zabek after all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Her head swimming as she read the report on the datapad, Caine looked up at Dixon, hanging from a handhold above her desk. The pilot swung slowly back and forth, waiting for her to finish.

  "This report says nine to twelve days to clear the rockfall. How long is it actually going to take?"

  "I think we can do it in three. I had a look at the tunnel myself before coming back. It's a confined space, not much room to work, but if we can work in shifts we should be able to get them out." She smiled, "Those engineers are always far too conservative."

  Shaking her head, she continued, "And Dietz and the others?"

  "They were well clear of the collapse, at least half a mile ahead before the roof went down. There's a good chance they didn't even know anything was wrong until they missed the regular check-in time. They've got enough supplies for three weeks down there, so there isn't any particular hurry."

  "Except that I don't like having three crewmen trapped in an underground complex for any longer than I can help," she sighed. "I see you've drawn from the security section for the rescue party."

  Dixon shrugged, sending her bobbing up and down. "They weren't doing much over there on the spaceport anyway. We need all the hands we can get if we're to keep to the repair schedule, and Jack's already complaining about all of these distractions."

  "Fine. Send Petty Officer Washington to command it; Harper will just have to work unsupervised for a while."

  Shaking her head, the pilot replied, "I've got the caving experience, Lieutenant. I ought to be commanding this party."

  "You are also one of the few remaining senior officers I've got, not to mention that if we run into any other problems, we might need those fighters of yours."

  Just as Dixon was beginning to reply, sirens sounded throughout the ship, sending them both dashing to a status monitor. This sound was one that Caine had been dreading since Marshall had left for the surface, the double-pulse that called the crew to battle stations. Caine looked over at Dixon, the pilot's face turning
white.

  "Get your fighters in the air yesterday."

  Looking over at the alarm for a second, then back at Caine, she nodded. "On the way."

  Tapping a button on the desk, Caine said, "Bridge, this is Caine. What the hell's going on up there?"

  The normally calm voice of Kibuki replied, his words all running together, "A ship just jumped into the system at the fourth planet. Unidentified."

  "I'm on my way. Get our fighters in the sky as soon as Dixon reports readiness, and have what senior officers we have report to the bridge on the double. Harper as well."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Caine glided down the corridor, swinging frantically from handhold to handhold, knowing that every second could count. She hastily tried to conjure up a picture of the system in her head, attempting to work out what sort of a potential threat this mysterious unidentified object might post.

  The elevator was waiting for her at the end of the corridor, sent by the bridge, and she swung in with a single movement, pushing off on the far wall as the doors slid shut behind her. She pulled out her datapad, calling up a status report that she hastily scanned – large sections of the ship hadn't made it to battle stations, some of them didn't have any personnel in them to make the attempt. Most of the remaining crew was on the starport anyway, waiting for the skin of the ship to be replaced; only a few key areas were inhabitable at all.

  The doors opened, and she pushed out onto the bridge, sensing a dozen pairs of eyes on her, watching as she smoothly glided towards the command chair. None of this felt right to her; she ought to have been the one watching Marshall come onto the bridge, waiting to see what he would do to save the situation. As she sat down and strapped herself in, the ship shook three times, and the three fighters flew out of the spaceport to take up a defensive formation outside. Looking up at the nervous watch officer, she silently composed herself.

  "Report, Mr. Kibaki."

  "Spaceman Harper picked up an echo when she was running some scans of the outer solar system, and we determined that a dimensional event was taking place. A ship emerged less than a minute later, coming out close to the fourth planet. They scanned the starport immediately; they know we're here."

  Frowning, Caine turned to Harper, swinging above Tactical, "What were you looking for out there?"

  "I figured that other planets of the system might have resources that were being exploited. We never did get out that far."

  "Change in target aspect, ma'am," Yorkina said from her sensor station. "Vessel is changing orbit, I think it's heading for the egress point."

  Kibaki's mouth opened, and he looked silently at Caine, "They only jumped into the system a few minutes ago. They can't be planning another jump now, the hendecaspace drift..."

  Harper shook her head, "Obviously they've got better dimensional compensators than we do." She leaned over Yorkina's shoulder, "They're picking up some speed, as well."

  "Ortega," Caine said, turning to the communications station, "Put me onto them. All standard frequencies, and put it into as many languages as possible. I want to give them every chance possible to hear us."

  The young technician worked a few controls, frowning at the translation database, "You're on, ma'am."

  "This is Acting Captain Caine of the Triplanetary spaceship Alamo. We send greetings, and wish to initiate peaceful contact." Turning to Yorkina, she said, speaker off, "I want to know everything there is to know about that spacecraft, as rapidly as possible."

  "Already working on it."

  "Tactical track completed," Matsumoto said. "They could be here in five days, ma'am, assuming current acceleration profile."

  "Plenty of time to prepare them a nice surprise."

  A holoimage of the mysterious spacecraft flicked onto the bridge, replacing the display of the planet, and Caine drifted over towards it, scrutinizing every detail. A double-domed ship linked by a stubby central corridor, a ring of engines around the rear dome, the forward dome festooned with sensors and scanning equipment. A dozen bays that could be designed to launch shuttles – or fighters. No name, but a painted number '5' on the rear hull, faded orange on the gray metal hull.

  "I'd like Mr. Quinn's opinion on this, get it down to his station," she said to Ortega.

  Kibaki drifted over to her side, "I make it a prospector, not a warship. Harper's hunch was right," the spaceman grinned at the mention of her name, "by the looks of it. I'd say that there is something on that planet they want, and we just happened to be here."

  Turning to Ortega, Caine asked, "Any response to our message, spaceman?"

  "No, ma'am, and I've been repeating it constantly in more than a hundred languages. No reply, and no evidence of transmissions at all."

  Harper looked over at the technician, "What about a tight-beam? To the satellites?"

  Caine's eyes widened, but Ortega shook her head, "They're far enough away that we'd probably pick it up."

  “And the other way?”

  “Planet to ship?” The communications technician shrugged. “No way we'd intercept that.”

  "No evidence of change to satellite aspect," Yorkina said, looking up from her station with relief on her face. "Unidentified ship is gaining speed, acceleration stable. Egress point in one minute, ten seconds."

  "Call the Captain," Caine said.

  "I can't raise anyone on the surface, ma'am."

  Caine's eyes darted away from the screen to the technician, "No-one at all?"

  Her mouth opening and closing for a second, she replied, "No senior officers, ma'am. Captain Marshall and Lieutenant Cunningham are out of Yreka, and Lieutenant Mulenga is out at the excavation, underground."

  "One minute to egress," Yorkina called out.

  Kibaki frowned, looking over at the sensor operator, "Where else could they be going on that vector?"

  "Nowhere in system. I'll run a scan along their course."

  "Wait until you are sure they are staying in system," Caine ordered. "I want everything we've got looking at them right now."

  "I still can't believe they're going to do it," Kibaki said.

  Harper laughed, "They've got weapons decades ahead of ours, you don't think they might have better FTL tech as well?"

  Caine looked over at the hacker; she might be insubordinate, but she was also absolutely right. There was no telling what technological advantages that ship might have, and if this was a civilian ship – and by the looks of it, a rather old one – the military vessels of this unidentified group would likely be even more advanced. There was silence on the bridge as the ship crossed over to the hendecaspace egress point, and with a bright blue flash, disappeared. Kibaki was shaking his head, unbelieving.

  "They did it," Matsumoto whispered.

  Silence continued to reign on the bridge, broken only by Harper making her way over to the unused tactical station, starting to pull up survey records. Caine drifted over to the spaceman, putting her hand on her shoulder.

  "What are you looking at, Harper?"

  Not looking up from her work, the spaceman replied, "I'm calling up the long-range sensor records of that planet. If there were there to prospect they must have been prospecting for something."

  Caine frowned, "So?"

  Looking up, Harper replied, "If we can work out what, we should send someone out to take a look. There might be mine workings or something like that out there, some sort of evidence that could tell us where they come from. Maybe abandoned equipment, or at least traces of something that might give us a lead."

  Nodding, Caine said, "Fine. Not a shuttle, though; we're about out anyway supporting the rescue efforts on the moon and the surface party. Get a probe away as fast as you can." She stabbed down at a button on her console, "Dixon, this is Alamo Actual."

  "We saw that flash, Lieutenant."

  "Get back as fast as you can." She pushed another button, "Mr. Quinn, report to the bridge on the double."

  Quinn emerged from the elevator as the fighters began to dock a few moments la
ter, clutching his favorite battered old datapad in his hand, an outline of the unidentified vessel on it. He fumbled slightly, missing a handhold in his eagerness, and Kibaki grabbed his belt as he went sailing past, pushing him in the direction of a chair.

  "This vessel is amazing, Lieutenant. We've not used the spherical design in a long time. The double-sphere technique has some real advantages, but..."

  Caine rose a hand. "The analysis is going to have to wait, Lieutenant. We don't have the time now." She looked back at the display. "They aren't that far ahead of us. We can manage a dimensional transfer of about seven days, I doubt they could do much better." Pausing, she looked around the room. "There are a couple of stars within four days of here. I'd say we can expect a visitor of some sort in eight or nine days, and I don't think they'll send a prospecting vessel this time."

  "Eight or nine days?" Quinn's eyes widened. "Lieutenant, do you have any idea what you are about to ask me to do?"

  "Yes."

  "The skin is off, and getting the new one laid down will take weeks. We haven't even finished fabricating it yet. All the internal system upgrades aren't completed, the laser needs some serious repair work, half the power transfer linkages are shot."

  "I know."

  Quinn sighed, shaking his head, "I never thought I'd ever say this, Lieutenant, but I don't think that it can be done. Not if we had a full work crew and were drifting off Mariner Station, not pulling twenty-four hour shifts."

  Something was changing inside Caine, a resolve she thought she had lost beginning to appear. For once it was extremely simple, now all the decisions had been taken from her, and she knew precisely what had to be done.

  "Mr. Quinn, you have eight days to get Alamo to flight status."

  "I'll never get her fit for a hendecaspace jump in the time."

  She shook her head, "I'd say you've got eight days to try." Unspoken was a thought in her head; Dietz would be back well within that time. Whatever decision was going to have to be made, at least she wasn't going to be the one that had to make it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN