Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor (28 page)

 “Sir?”

 “I’ve read your report, and a bigger piece of self-flagellation I’ve never read. Fortunately I’ve also looked at the ones submitted by Carpenter, Race and Nelyubov, and all of them sing your praises like the Callistan State Choir. It is th
ey
I am choosing to believe. Why were you so hard on yourself?”

 “I was in command, sir,” she said, quietly, “and therefore I was responsible for everything. I took excessive risks, and I not only lost the ship but six
of her
crewmen
with it
.”

 “Good answer,” Marshall said. “You’ve learned the hardest lesson of all, that when you are in command you must hold yourself to a higher standard than anyone else will ever set for you. It’s something that no-one can really understand unless they have been there.”

 “Exactly, sir,” she replied, nodding.

 “Except I have been there, Maggie. Exactly where you have been. At twenty-four the
last
war put me in command of a wing, ten years before I should have had to do that job. I know exactly what it means to be catapulted into a position of responsibility that you aren’t ready for.”

 “Then you understand, sir. It was...the greatest burden I’ve ever known.” She looked down at the floor, “I wasn’t ready. I may never be.”

 With a smile, Marshall leaned back, “If someone said that they were ready when they sat in that chair for the first time, I’d kick them out of it. No-one is ever ready to take command, Maggie, not in their own mind. There’s always that little voice in the back of your head, the one that longs for someone else to arrive, that tries to think of ways to get out of it.” He paused, then said, “You need that little voice. That’s what stops you getting overconfident, what keeps you grounded.”

 “Even you, sir? I’ve never…”

 “You want to talk to Deadeye some time on this subject. I’ve sat in this office more than once, longing for someone else to take this job, to make a big decision for me. It’s something we all go through, no matter how long we’ve been in the chair.” With another smile, he said, “You realize, of course, that nothing will ever be the same again.” 

 Frowning, she replied, “Sir?”

 “You’ve commanded a ship, Maggie. It might have only been for a few weeks, but you had an independent command, and what is more you executed it magnificently. It changes you; I know it changed me. It made me look at the big picture a lot more, made me less focused on my own department and more on how it affected the ship. Take that, use it properly, and it will make you a better officer in the long run.”

 “I’ll try, sir.”

 “That, and based on this performance, Commodore Tramiel will be on first-name terms with you when we get back. You may have noticed that only ship commanders – or prospective ones – exist in his universe.”

 “You’ve been using my first name as well, sir.”

 “Have I?” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

 “It’s fine, sir.”

 “I think you’ve probably earned the right to use my first name as well. In private, at any rate.” Leaning back, he continued, “This won’t be the only time you command a ship, you know. Give it five, ten years, and you’ll have your own bridge again. It was always on the cards, but this has probably sealed the deal if you don’t mess it up.” Shaking his head, she said, “First contact with a long-lost branch of humanity, discovery of another habitable planet, securing a strategic outpost in the heart of the Cabal and a secret supply route back to our space...you really hit the jackpot this time.”

 “I was lucky.”

 “Luck favors the prepared. You used that luck well.”

 “You didn’t do bad
ly
yourself.”

 “Alamo would have been destroyed if you hadn’t arrived, Maggie. We’d have smashed that fleet, but we’d have left
only
a few escape pods and some wreckage to tell the tale. If we were lucky. Now we can capitalize on the victory; I’m taking us to Hydra Station.”

 “Price will be glad for that, sir. I told him relief was on the way, but I didn’t expect it this soon.”

 “Now comes you, Maggie.”

 “Sir?”

 “Your future on this ship.”

 “I was hoping to return to my position at Security, sir.”

 “Lieutenant Bailey is doing an excellent job there. I don’t like the idea of moving her.”

 “Perhaps the Beta Watch Shift, then; I was sorry to hear about Matsumoto.”

 “Based on your reports, I actually thought that Mr. Nelyubov would be a good fit there. And when we get back, I intend to see he gets that promotion he was expecting.”

 “Thank you, sir, but what about me?”

 “I’ve still got one vacancy to fill. What do you think about taking over as Operations Officer?”

 Her eyes widened, and she said, “Operations Officer? Sir, I’m only a Sub-Lieutenant.”

 Passing a datapad across the table, Marshall replied, “Actually, you’re a full Lieutenant. With seniority dating back to your assumption of command of Hercules. I signed the paperwork for a field promotion this morning.” Raising a hand, he continued, “It’s the least I could do. You saved my ship, Maggie, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have in this job.”

 “I wasn’t expecting this.”

 “I know,” he replied. “Lane left some pretty big shoes to fill, but I’m confident you can do this.”

 “I’ve never even served as a watch officer.”

 “You’ve commanded a ship. I think that trumps it. Look, you’d probably have got the promotion when we got back anyway, but I think you’ve earned the right to get it ahead of schedule. Hell, if you haven’t, I can’t think who has.”

 “Thanks,” she said, “I accept.”

 “Good. You’ve got a lot of work to do, and your first job will be…”

 “Integrating my people from Hercules into the ship’s complement.”

 “See what I mean? Oh, I want a report on Hydra Station and what we can expect out that way on my desk before we jump. Assuming we can get the internal networks working again, that is.”

 “I’m sure Quinn will manage something.”

 “Dismissed, Lieutenant,” he said, stressing the rank. She smiled and walked out of the room, sliding nimbly through the door, as Marshall sat back at his desk again, looking at the flickering starfield. Fifteen dead, and perhaps more to follow, but at least they had clear stars again. The remnants of the Cabal fleet were still licking their wounds, and there was no way they could guess their destination this time.

 The crew was back together again, and they were going home.

Thank you for reading 'Sacred Honor'. For information on future releases, please join the Battlecruiser Alamo Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.

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Watch out for Battlecruiser Alamo #8: Stars in the Sand, coming in September...

For a sneak preview of the first spin-off from the Alamo series, Spitfire Station: Triple-Cross, keep reading….

 The shuttle tossed around in the storms of Kumar, trying to ride the waves of thunder; lightning flashed as Logan Winter, acting commander of Spitfire Station, peered out of his viewport. The weather report he’d coaxed out of the station’s sensors hadn’t been promising, but he didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the storm to abate before closing in. Through a gap in the clouds, he saw what he was looking for; an object seemingly floating in the sky, a huge balloon with some small modules strapped to its underside.

 Though it appeared motionless, Logan knew that it was traveling at hundreds of miles an hour, the currents throwing it across the sky. With a sweep of his hand, he zoomed in on the target; it seemed to be intact, and there was no sign that anything was docked to any of its locks. His eyes drifted up, catching a cluster of small dots up above, diving down towards them, flying in a lop-sided formation. He slammed down on a button.

 “Ryder, tell me we haven’t got fighters incoming!”

 His pilot – and executive officer, he’d been forced to strip the station’s meager personnel bare in order to pull off this little operation – replied after a brief second, “Want me to lie to you, sir?”

 “Don’t call me that.” 

 “They are fighters, but civilian. Diamond runners.”

 “You’re sure?”

 “That’s what the manifest says.”

 “So you aren’t sure. Stand by on evasive maneuvers if we need them.”

 Gritting his teeth in frustration, Logan turned to the cabin. Four espatiers, the finest troops he’d been able to scrounge from Alamo before it left, were sitting in full equipment; Harper – his pet hacker – was sitting in the midst of the military in a borrowed civilian spacesuit, the helmet resting in her lap, a grin on her face.

 “Skipper?” Lance-Corporal Volski said. “You going to tell us what we’re doing out here?”

 “We’ve got reason to believe that some of the pirates Alamo chased out of the system are holed up in this aerostat. We want them – alive, at all hazard. Brass wants some people for trial.”

 “That’s it?” Harper said. “What am I here for?”

 “I want to own their systems as soon as we touch down. Anything that’s in the databanks needs to be secure – encrypted so that only I can access it.”

 “Just you?”

 “Just me.”

 Volski looked around at his troops, and with resigned looks on their faces they stowed their rifles underneath their clips, replacing them with puny-looking dart guns. Meyer, the lone female trooper, shook her new weapon with disgust, the pistol small in her hand.

 “Come on, gang, we know how to do this. We expecting trouble, boss?” Volski said.

 “Always,” Logan replied. “That’s usually safest.”

 “Closing for docking, sir,” Ryder said over the intercom. “Hold on to something, this is going to be rough.”

 The pilot’s prediction was correct. The shuttle bounced off the side of the aerostat four times before – more by luck than judgment – Ryder managed to mate the two docking connectors. With a reassuring clang and a hiss, the latches engaged, though immediately the ride grew worse. When they were in free flight, Ryder had been able to compensate for the disturbance. Now they were being thrown from side to side, lurching around; Logan tumbled from his seat onto the floor as Harper laughed.

 “Not funny,” he said.

 “It’s very funny,” she replied, as she started to pull off her spacesuit.

 “What are you doing?”

 “If we’re being thrown around this much, we’ll damage something. That and I don’t like those things anyway.”

 “And if the station is holed?”

 “Then wearing a suit will just give me more time to enjoy the view on the way down.”

 Logan looked at Volski, nodded, and said, “Good point. Corporal, you want the suits or not?”

 Glancing around at his squad, the corporal shrugged, “I think she’s right. I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.”

 “Great,” Meyer said. “No real weapons, no armor. This mission’s turning into a full-on Charlie Foxtrot.”

 Shedding his spacesuit into a pile on the floor with practiced ease, Logan pulled out a dart gun that superficially looked like the ones the espatiers were using, and made his way over to the airlock. The camera pickup showed nothing but darkness, and he gestured over to Harper.

 “Lights, maestro?”

 Nodding, she walked over to a terminal and started to type; almost immediately, the lights came on, and she exchanged a look with Logan. Volski walked forward, blocked by an outstretched arm from Logan.

 “That was too damn easy.”

 “Yeah,” Harper replied. “Hold on a moment.”

 She continued to work her controls, playing the keyboard as an expert would play the piano, and after a few seconds a grin began to spread across her face.

 “Well?”

 “Nasty little trick with the docking clamps. We’d have been thrown back out into the atmosphere.”

 With a sigh, he replied, “Can you…”

 “Override it?” she interrupted. “Already done.”

 Nodding, Logan tapped the control, and the two doors slowly jerked open. He took a tentative step forward, gun low by his side, and looked out into a long corridor, running the length of the habitation module. A small pile of used food containers decorated the floor, and a brown-stained overall was hung limply on a hook. Volski walked in by his side, his pistol outstretched, eyes darting around.

 “We should go first, boss,” he said, but Logan shook his head.

 “I need to lead from the front this time. I’ll take point, you guys check the rooms as we go. Be alert for more traps.”

 “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

 Leaning back into the airlock, Logan yelled, “Close up behind us, Ryder. In case you get any surprise guests.”

 In response, the hatch slammed shut, this time far more quickly. Logan was beginning to get the idea that his assistant wasn’t particularly fond of him. He walked cautiously down the corridor, looking around, while the espatiers methodically searched each room. Harper ran up by his side.

 “Why are you making them search?” she whispered. “They aren’t going to find anything.”

 “Not here, no. My guess is that they’re up in the control room.”

 She looked at him, green locks dropping down over her eyes, “You don’t guess. You know.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Observation.”

 “Harper, you know just enough to be damned dangerous.”

 Volski jogged up behind them. “Nothing in this section, sir.”

 “Nothing at all?”

 “Just some quarters, obviously in use. No sign of any documents or data crystals, computers dark.”

 “Harper, shouldn’t you work on that?”

 She shrugged, “You think I could have knocked out that trap without breaking into their system? I’ve already got everything copying over onto the shuttle computers.”

 With a thin smile, Logan said, “Let’s get moving, then. Corporal?”

 He waved the espatier into position by his side; the troops positioned themselves to be alert for any sudden movement, any threat, and waited for the door the open. With a gentle tap, Volski opened the door, and a loud crack issued forth; Meyer immediately returned fire, and there was a sudden snap from the other compartment.