Battlecruiser Alamo - 7 - Battlecruiser Alamo: Sacred Honor (3 page)

 “Orlova would have followed us if she could. Hercules was badly damaged, and surrounded. I’m acting on the assumption that she,” he said, sighing, “surrendered when Alamo left the system. If this goes wrong, we’ll probably all end up getting dumped on Discovery
together
.”

 “Would you do that?” Zebrova asked. “If all hope truly was lost?”

 “The crew comes first, Lieutenant. Always.”

 “That doesn’t answer my question.”

 “It’s as much of a
n answer
as you are going to get. Now, I need the three of you to start your preparations for this, but do it quietly. Cost no object, use of ordinance no object, and feel free to throw the safety regulations out of the nearest airlock. I’m counting on your devious minds to come up with something good for us. Don’t let me down.”

 The three officers looked at each other, and Quinn nodded, “Alamo will be ready for anything you need her to do, sir. I think I have some ideas.”

 “I don’t need to tell you not to let anyone else on board know about this until it is too late to
matter
. Cooper, while I want that saboteur identified…”

 “You don’t what our traitor caught until he’s had a chance to send his last message.” The finality of Cooper’s tone chilled Marshall. “Got it, sir.”

 “Any more questions?” he asked.

 Zebrova looked at him, then said, “I think this is a mistake, sir. If I may speak freely.”

 “By all means.”

 “Sir, we’re going to charge headlong into an enemy fleet. The odds of Alamo surviving are not promising. Our best course is to try and sneak past the bottleneck, then attempt to break out into open space.”

 Caine shook her head, “Eight jumps home from here. That could mean twelve. Or twenty. This is already going to set some records for the longest ever deep-space patrol.”

 “Perhaps, but it is more likely to succeed.”

 “We’d be trading a problem today for a bigger problem tomorrow. We don’t know what is out there, and even the Cabal records don’t seem very enlightening on the subject. In Cabal space at least we know where to find fuel, supplies…”

 “And enemy forces everywhere we go.”

 “They have a finite fleet, Lieutenant. Once we get past the bottleneck, especially without an enemy at our back, then we have a lot more options to play with. We’re going to fight this battle sooner or later, so we fight it now – while we can choose the time, at our best fighting strength, and all our resources marshaled for the attack.”

 “Very well, sir.”

 “What are you going to tell the rest of the crew?” Caine asked. 

 Glancing up at a battered old clock on the wall, Marshall said, “Briefing for all department heads in ten hours, five hours before we return to normal space. I’ll outline my official plans then. Try and look surprised.” 

 “Why not bring some of the others into the loop?” Quinn said. “Mulenga, for example. Or Tyler.”

 “This is a need-to-know operation. I will bring them in...after we’ve made our final jump towards the site of the battle, and no-one can tell any tall tales.”

 Shaking her head, Caine said, “So basically, our plan is to tell the enemy where they are going, and hope that they don’t believe us.”

 “Information that comes too easily is rarely trusted. I’m counting that the Commandant won’t see through this one, will think that I am cleverer…”

 “...than you are,” Caine finished with a smile.

 “I think you’d better make your way out separately, try and avoid any suspicion. We don’t know who might be watching us.”

 “I presume this place isn’t bugged,” Zebrova said; Marshall waved a detect
or
in the air.

 “Swept it myself before we started. You all should check your offices when you get back, but if you find any, don’t destroy them. Just do anything important elsewhere. Remember, we need the saboteur to think they are getting away with it. Though feel free to make sure nothing important gets damaged, Quinn.”

 “I’ve already got everyone on double-time checking systems. It should be easy enough to arrange that all critical areas have someone from Alamo present at all times – and don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure to keep my tracks covered.” 

 “Right. We’ll meet again in two weeks, and I look forward to hearing what you’ve come up with. Dismissed.”

 Zebrova left first, crawling away with a scowl on her face; this plan had not satisfied her in the slightest, but she was loyal enough to accept it. Quinn was a lot happier, already plotting and scheming the devices he was going to cobble together. Cooper paused at the threshold, and turned back for a minute.

 “Sir…”

 “I’ll cover you, Cooper. After the fact, if necessary, but I’ll make sure your career isn’t damaged by anything you have to do.”

 “That wasn’t what I was going to ask, sir.”

 “Well?”

 “You do know that your father is a suspect.”

 Marshall nodded, “I don’t for one moment think that he is involved, but there is a reason he isn’t at this meeting. Just find out what’s at the other end of the rabbit hole.”

 “Rabbit hole?”

 “Never mind. Good luck, Corporal.” As the trooper crawled away, he turned back to Caine, “What are they teaching them at school these days?”

 “Probably not ancient literature,” she said. Glancing after Cooper, she said, “You’re putting him in a hell of a position, you know. He isn’t a trained investigator, and he’ll have to keep this secret from everyone while putting him at risk.” 

 “I know,” he replied, sighing. “All of those things could be an advantage, though. Think about it. Our saboteur would be expecting someone like Bailey to be on the case, or you, for that matter. Sending in Corporal Cooper will catch them by surprise. Besides, he had the usual combat hacking course.”

 “Where he came in the middle of his class. I checked.”

 “And got the best score of any of the espatiers we have left.” 

 “True.” She looked around the room, lounging back towards the wall, “This is a hell of a risky plan. As risky as the one…”

 “That got us out here in the first place? Maybe. I still stand by it, though. We’re going to get hunted down piecemeal,
battered down a piece at a time until we can't run any more
. Hell, they could have ships strung out half-way home, get us one battle at a time with hit and run attacks. This way we get the battle out of the way.”

 “And…”

 “Damn it, Deadeye, I don’t like retreating. That task force sent us running with our tails between our legs, and cost us a ship and more than two dozen people. My people. We’ve got to redeem that.”

 “No, we don’t.”

 He shook his head, “Yes, we do. The crew need it, for one thing. Morale’s low.”

 “Being stranded light-years from home on the wrong side of a hostile frontier will do that.”

 “And a good victory will restore it. Hell, my instincts are telling me that this is the thing to do. Then we can push through Cabal space, and…”

 Caine looked at him, cold in the eyes, and said, “You don’t expect to win.”

 He glanced up, and said, “What?”

 “This isn’t about getting home. You don’t think we can do it, cross the Cabal.”

 “The odds are against us…”

 “Damn it, Danny. You can be honest with me, even if you aren’t honest to yourself.”

 Rising to his feet, he looked down at her, saying, “Yes, then, damn it. We’re one ship, trying to cross thirty, forty light-years of hostile territory, with a fleet at our backs and others up ahead. No resupply without a battle, no espatier force, no fighter squadron. At some point they are going to catch us.”

 “You’re giving up.”

 “Not yet, I’m not. We came out here to prevent a war, one way or another, and if we can give them a bloody enough nose, we might just manage to do that. I’ll do as much damage as I can, and then…”

 “Surrender.”

 “The crew, yes. I’ll go down with Alamo.”

 “You’ve got it all worked out, don’t you. A glorious last stand.”

 “We’ve got the name for it.”

 “That’s a memory to live up to, not something to blindly imitate. Damn it, Danny, I’ve never known you this fatalistic before.” She stood up, fury on her face, “I’m going into this battle to win. Not to do as much damage as possible, but to blast our way through the bad guys and get this ship home.”

 “Don’t you think I want to do that as well? Look, if we can’t get home, if we can’t complete our mission, then we owe it to everyone back home to mitigate that as best we can. This is the best way I can see to do that.”

 “We can get home, Danny. Don’t let one defeat knock you down. You’ve got to get up and fight again. Zebrova’s wrong, and your instincts are right.”

 “We’ll see in about three weeks.” He shook his head. “I just wish Orlova was here. She’d probably have some wild idea to get around this problem.”

Chapter 3

 Sitting in the hastily-patched bridge of the Battlecruiser Hercules, Sub-Lieutenant Margaret Orlova, by a string of accidents and disasters serving as Acting Captain, looked at the viewscreen and frowned, wondering what would appear when they finally left hendecaspace. Forced to jump without calculating a proper course, she had no idea where they would end up, or
even
how long it would take to get there.

 She looked around the bridge, the crew working to prepare themselves for anything, without sufficient resources or matériel. The guidance station was a collection of improvised control systems, Lieutenant Curry’s hands reaching to unfamiliar positions as she prepared for emergence. To her side, at the tactical station, Lieutenant Nelyubov ran one battle simulation after another, a waste of time in one sense – for Hercules had no functioning weapons. At least it was keeping him busy. Sub-Lieutenant Carpenter, her third-wheel paleontologist, had no such luck; she was standing behind her chair, staring at the screen, tapping her fingers against a console.

 Sergeant Wilson, the nearest thing she had to a Systems Officer, had quite the reverse problem. Three damage control teams were roaming the ship, trying to do the work of a dozen, and failing. There were so many places they simply couldn’t access, not until they returned to normal space, and most of them were critical to getting Hercules fit for a fight. This deep in Cabal territory, she didn’t dare hope for a safe emergence. Surviving the first few minutes would be a nice bonus.

 For the hundredth time, she looked at the map of local space on her battered datapad. Lots of different options, and none of them good. All she could hope was that the fleet wasn’t on her tail, that they thought Hercules had been destroyed. Just like Alamo. She remembered the shot on the sensor display, the missiles converging on the battlecruiser at the instant of its departure. Nothing could have lived through that.

 “More than an hour now,” Sergeant Mathis said from the sensor station. “Definitely a record.”

 “Speaking personally, I’d have had no objection to letting this record go elsewhere,” Curry said. “No-one’s ever come back from his deep in hendecaspace.”

 “There are stories, though,” Carpenter said. “From the early days of interstellar travel…”

 “That’ll do,” Orlova said. “You can tell each other ghost stories when we’re off duty.”

 Finally, Mathis turned to Orlova, a smile on his face, “Increasing dimensional instability!”

 “Thank God,” Wilson said, shaking his head. “I thought…”

 “We all did. Get in the game, everyone,” Orlova said. “Countermeasures up and running, and Mathis, we need those sensors of yours to sing.”

 The crew seemed to come to life, working their controls as Hercules staggered through the egress point, returning to normal space. It felt like all the molecules in her body were deciding whether to fly apart or remain together, but the familiar blue flash passed across the ship and stars re-appeared on the viewscreen.

 “Jump complete,” Curry said. “Maintaining station-keeping.”

 “Mathis, I need sensors,” Orlova said.

 “Working. Resolution’s lousy...threat warning! Energy spike, close aboard, I think it’s an automated defense grid.”

 “Countermeasures are running,” Nelyubov said, “but weapons are still o
ff
line. I can’t fire back.”

 “We’re being hailed,” Mathis said, frowning. “I can manage an audio feed only. Exterior antenna arrays are still out.”

 “What are you going to do?” Carpenter asked.

 With a grin on her face, Orlova replied, “Play it by ear. Put them on. And give me any information you can about where the hell we’ve ended up.”

 A crackling voice came over the speaker, “This is Outpost Hydra calling Hercules. Why have you not provided
your
identification signal?”

 “Hydra, this is Hercules, Acting Commander speaking. We have sustained serious battle damage including database malfunctions, and require immediate assistance.” 

 There was a long pause, then, “Identify yourself, Acting Commander. What happened to Osborne?”

 “Dead along with four-fifths of the crew, Hydra. My name is Margaret Forster,” she paused for a second, then continued, “latterly of Cornucopia Mining. Can you tow us in? Our sensors are down.”

 “Wait one, Hercules.”

 Orlova made a chopping motion with her hand, and as Mathis silenced the channel, she turned to Wilson, “What’s the status of our fabricators?”

 “Lousy.”

 “I need uniforms for all of us. Cornucopia Mining jumpsuits.”

 Carpenter stared in disbelief, saying, “That’s the plan?”

 “Plan? I’m making this up as I go along.”

 “Beats surrendering,” Wilson said, rising from his station. “I’ll start working on the uniforms.”

 “Get the first batch up to the bridge. And try and make them
look
used.”

 “I’m not a fashion designer!” he protested, but he retreated from the bridge before Orlova could reply. Mathis looked over from his station.

 “We’re at NN 3737,” he said. “Four planets, one of them borderline-inhabitable, and that one has a station orbiting it. Looks like that’s where we ended up. According to the database, we’re looking at a repair facility for civilian ships.”