Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor (18 page)

 “Emergence!” McGuire said, and the stars appeared in the wake of the familiar blue flash as Alamo returned to its native dimension. Bryant immediately began to work, and the holodisplay slowly resolved, planets jumping imperceptibly into their true positions as the computer verified its guesswork.

 “Threat warning! Vessel astern, twenty thousand miles, energy spike detected from its engines.”

 “Almost a stone’s throw away,” Caine said.

 “Take the spin off the ship, Lane, and let’s get a missile salvo ready to go. Ivanov, hail that ship.”

 “Aye, sir,” the communications technician replied. “They’re not accepting handshake.”

 “It’s a freighter, sir,” Tyler said. “Big type, bulk materials transport.”

 “Fuel?”

 “If it’s full, more than enough for a couple of jumps.”

 “Missiles ready, Deadeye?”

 “All good to go, sir.”

 “Give ‘em a warning shot. Quarter-mile off the bow.”

 She flicked a switch and Alamo shook, a missile tracking out from the forward launch tube, cutting through space towards its target. The freighter wallowed as it attempted evasive maneuvers, and for a heartbeat Marshall thought that the warhead might actually impact
by acciden
t, but Caine had set up enough of a safety margin to rule that out; the explosion detonated harmlessly clear.

 “They’ll need to repaint the hull,” Bryant said. “Nothing else in system so far, sir.”

 Ivanov turned to Marshall, “They’re getting talkative all of a sudden. A Captain Bergstrom for you, sir.”

 A clipped accent echoed over the communicator, “What is the meaning of launching an attack on my ship! I warn you, the Cou
rt
will hear of this!”

 “No doubt. I am Lieutenant-Captain Daniel Marshall, commander of the Triplanetary Battlecruiser Alamo, and I must reluctantly request the requisition of your fuel.”

 “Requisition? You mean steal.”

 “No, sir. I mean requisition. You will be provided with a credit voucher for the assessed value of the commodities we take, which can be traded in at any Triplanetary facility in the recognized currency of your choice.”

 “What the hell good is that?”

 “Sir,” Bryant said, “the freighter is on the move.”

 “No way they can get away, sir,” Caine said. 

 Lane turned to Tactical, “Get a missile lock on their engines.”

 She looked back at Marshall, who nodded, “Do it.”

 “You’ll destroy my ship!”

 Marshall said, “Sir, I will be happy to pay for what we take. I regret putting your crew at hazard, but if you intend to evade any further, I would recommend you permit them to take to the escape pods.”

 “And if I accept?”

 “Then we will take your fuel, and inform the next Cabal vessel we see that you require resupply. This is a frequently traveled system; you will not be waiting long for rescue.”

 “You hope! We’ve only got food for a month on board.”

 A light flashed on Marshall’s console, a call from the lower decks. Putting the fuming Bergstrom on hold, he answered it.

 “Marshall.”

 “Bailey here, sir. We’ve hacked into the ship’s inventory – it’s called the Caliban, by the way. They’ve got rations for six months, not one. Cargo is most
ly
agricultural supplies, pretty high-tech stuff according to the database. Lots of experimental hybrids, that sort of thing.”

 “Something we’d be interested in,” Lane said. “We should take samples of the cargo.”

 Looking at her sharply, he said, “Thank you, Lieutenant,” and connected with Bergstrom again.

 “You have a lot more food than you claimed, Captain,” he began, “and therefore should have no problem waiting for relief. Furthermore, I’m sure you could get something out of those agricultural supplies.”

 “How did you…”

 “We have an excellent intrusion team on this ship. What is it to be, Bergstrom? Do we fight a battle that you have no chance of winning, or do you keep your ship and its cargo?”

 “Sir,” Lane hissed, “we should take the cargo as well.”

 “I will not hand over my cargo,” Bergstrom said, having obviously heard
L
ane. “As for fuel, we can’t spare much.”

 “Get that weapons lock ready, Lieutenant Caine,” Marshall said, then back into the microphone, “You will be inconvenienced, Captain, but nothing more.” With a smile, he continued, “Besides, think of it this way. If relations between our two governments normalize, you will have a substantial amount of Triplanetary currency to use for trade. That might give you an advantage over your competitors.”

 “And if they don’t, I’m stuck with a load of worthless credit,” he said, but his tone was softening. “You will guarantee that my crew will not be harmed, my cargo
left
intact?”

 “I will give you my word as a Triplanetary officer.”

 “I don’t have much choice about this, do I?”

 “No.”

 There was a long pause; just before Marshall was about to ask again, the reply came, “Very well. I accept under protest, Captain, and expect that protest to be entered into your log.”

 The channel closed, and Caine looked back at Marshall, “That was far too easy.”

 Sighing, he nodded, replying, “Much too easy. He only put up enough of a protest for it to look plausible.”

 Lane turned to face him, “Request permission to command the boarding party, sir?”

 “That’s Diego’s job. Caine, get the espatiers on the way, and an engineering team to go with them. McGuire, you can put the spin back on the ship now. Lieutenant, I want to speak to you in my office.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “Bryant, if that ship so much as twitches…”

 “You’ll know in an instant, sir.”

 “Good,” he said, pushing out of his chair and over to his office, Lane following just behind. Sliding through the door, he dropped behind his desk, ready for the imminent return of gravity, and gestured her into a chair. 

 “I’d rather stand, sir,” she said.

 “Sit, Lieutenant.”

 Glancing down at the chair, she obeyed, then said, “I’m glad that worked, sir.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “Good cop, bad cop. I thought that Captain Bergstrom might need some extra encouragement.”

 “That was a ploy?”

 “Yes, sir. Major Marshall often uses such tricks.”

 “In future, Lieutenant, you will please warn me in advance if you are going to fake insubordination; I will charitably assume that you were telling the truth. Frankly, your attitude is proving something of a problem.”

 “Is this about shooting at you, sir?”

 Rolling his eyes, he replied, “If that was the only problem, Lane, I wouldn’t be quite as worried, but your...enthusiasm is presenting some serious difficulties. You are contradictory, and always exceed your mandate and the scope of your orders.”

 “I’m sorry if my service has not been satisfactory, sir, but may I speak freely?”

 “By all means,” he said, folding his arms. Gravity was beginning to return, and he felt the familiar disorientation in his ear; he struggled to focus on what Lane was saying.

 “I feel you should hand over command to your father.” 

 Suddenly she had his attention. “Why?”

 “He is the senior officer, sir, and frankly has displayed considerably more aggression.”

 “Indeed,”
he said, trying to keep a straight face.

 “We can’t just sneak around Cabal space hoping for a miracle, sir. Even if Caliban isn’t a trap, there will be one waiting for us out there
somewhere
. A Q-ship could catch us completely by surprise, and we wouldn’t stand a chance. You need to take some affirmative action, or stand down for someone who will.”

 “Are you finished?”

 “No, sir. There has been no serious investigation into the escape of Corporal Cooper, and frankly I don’t think there will be while Zebrova is handling it; I must state that I suspect she is in league with him.”

 “Lane…”

 Raising a hand, she replied, “I would be failing in my duty as an officer if I did not say these things. I would not do so in public, but I did request permission to speak freely before I began.”

 “So you did.”

 “It really isn’t anything personal, sir.”

 “Of course not. Well, Lieutenant, while I am sorry that my command style does not meet your satisfaction, I have no intention of changing my plans along the lines indicated, and certainly have no plans to stand down.”

 “That’s a pity, sir,” she said. He looked at her, trying to weigh up whether she was serious or not. The irony that he was already planning to launch an attack on the fleet did not escape him. With a smile, he decided to take a risk.

 “I have no intention of changing my plans, Lieutenant, because I am already preparing to launch a full-scale attack on the Cabal.”

 “I’m sorry?” she said. “Why wasn’t I briefed?”

 “I didn’t trust you,” he said bluntly.

 “I see.”

 “We knew that there was a strong chance we had taken a saboteur on board from….”

 “So Corporal Cooper was working for you – is, presumably – and he was investigating Matsumoto. You didn’t tell anyone from Hercules because you thought one of us was likely the saboteur.”

 “That’s about it.”

 “And as for the attack, you kept that quiet for the same reason.”

 “Something along those lines, yes.”

 She nodded, “Brilliant. I apologize unreservedly, Captain. If you wish my resignation, then I would suggest Lieutenant Bailey as my replacement.”

 “I’ll be honest,” he said, “I had considered just that when I brought you in. You’re a good Operations Officer, Lieutenant, but you need to keep in mind what your function on this ship is.”

 “I can be a little headstrong at times, sir.”

 “That’s something of an understatement, but I don’t consider that a disqualification in an officer. As long as it can be reined in when necessary.”

 “Can I be of assistance in the battle planning?”

 “I need ideas, Lieutenant. I need this ship to be at maximum combat potential. Dig into your box of dirty tricks and start – very quietly – working out what you can do.”

 “Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 “There will be a meeting after the jump. You are now invited.”

 Nodding, she said, “I think I might have something up my sleeve.” She turned to leave the office, then paused, saying, “Why do you trust me now?”

 “No saboteur would have done something as stupid as you did when you came into the room. Nine times out of ten you’d have left the room with your career in tatters, Lieutenant, permission to speak freely or no.”

 “I guess I’ve got too used to having someone called Marshall in the captain’s chair.” 

 As she left, a smile spread across his face as he leaned back, swiveling to look out at the stars again. He tapped a button on his desk; there was someone else he really should fully bring into the loop.

 “Major Marshall, report to my office, please.”

Chapter 18

 From Cooper’s viewpoint in the little-used lower observation deck, he could watch the fueling shuttles flying back and forth from Alamo, slowly limping into the hangar with their heavy load. He glanced at his fourth datapad of the day, checking the status of the fuel transfer, shaking his head. More than a day they had been at it, and still nothing seemed to be wrong. If the saboteur was going to target anything, this would be it; he longed to be on one of those shuttles with his friends,
taking the risks
himself.

 “Cooper, you read?” Barbara’s voice echoed through his headset.

 “I’ve got you, honey. What’s the score?”

 “Looks like five more loads will do it. No sign of trouble over there, just a lot of resentful crewmen being as unhelpful as possible. Can’t really blame them.”

 “And no sign of sabotage?”

 “We’re still flying, so no. Looks like they’re going to let us top up.” She paused, then said, “Gotta go, I’m closing for docking.”

 “Keep safe.”

 “I’m not the fugitive. Shuttle out.”

 He tossed his datapad to the deck, shaking his head. This was a dead end and he knew it; Alamo’s security were going to be watching this like a hawk. While he might find something they missed, the saboteur was going to know that this would be watched. He’d choose something less obvious, while everyone was distracted. He just couldn’t think of what.

 “You need to be more careful, Corporal,” a voice said. “I’ve been watching you for the last two minutes.”

 Behind him was Lieutenant-Major Diego, holding a pistol in his hand, a wide grin on his face. He gestured at Cooper, instructing him to toss his gun on the floor. Reluctantly, he complied.

 “Beautiful view, isn’t it, Corporal,” he said.

 “What are your intentions, sir?”

 “I’m going to put you back in custody, Corporal, and this time you are there to stay.”

 Sighing, he replied, “If you contact Captain Marshall, he’ll inform you that I am working for him to hunt down the saboteur. My mission appears to have failed, though, so I might as well turn myself in.”

 “Au contraire, Corporal. You have succeeded in finding the saboteur; I fear, however, that I have the drop on you.”

 “You’re the saboteur?”

 Shaking his head, he said, “Even a direct confession is not enough to convince you? What’s it going to take, blowing up the ship?”

 “Why not shoot me?”

 “Because I have an offer for you, Corporal. You see, I’m going to be very busy soon, and having two hands on the job will make things a lot easier.”

 “I’m not listening. Go ahead and shoot.”

 Smiling, Diego said, “I will offer you and Barbara safe passage back to Triplanetary space. New identities, plenty of credits. You’d be a rich man.”

 “You must be really stupid if you think I’ll accept that.” 

 “Oh, I didn’t think that would work. How about this? I’ll send the rest of your friends with you.”

 “Orlowski, Duggan, Duvalier? They wouldn’t go for this any more than I will.”

 “I didn’t mean them. I meant Sergeant Forrest. The survivors of your platoon, all twelve of them.”

 Gulping, Cooper said, “They’re alive? You’d have them released?”