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

 “I see.”

 “No, you don’t, but you will. I was young once, you know. Come on.” He beckoned her forward, and she and Carpenter pushed off after him. He gestured for them to hold onto a guard rail, and rapidly they felt gravity returning as they transited to the rotating part of the station. Orlova took a quick look at Carpenter, but she seemed to be coping fine; years spent in variable gravity while growing up had obviously given her good space legs.

 “We’re a small little station out here,” Price said, breaking into an obviously oft-repeated speech. “Working crew of about a hundred, maybe a dozen or so on the planet below. Of course quite a few of those are lower caste, non-human types. We take whatever labor we can get.”

 Carpenter flashed a quick glimpse at Orlova, who fixed her with a stare to silence her. Not that she could blame her; the number of known alien contacts could be counted on two hands with fingers to spare – likely because the Cabal was preventing most of them getting to Sol, she realized. The thought that they might be about to meet non-human beings was nothing short of intoxicating.

 The doors opened, and Orlova took an experimental pace; they seemed to be about at Titanian gravity, enough to keep everything down to the deck and maintain gravity adaptation, not so much that it would make anything too heavy. They stepped out onto a long, curving deck, workers scrambling about with boxes of components, most of them hopefully scheduled for Hercules. She looked around for some sights of the non-humans, and then she saw one. Though non-human wasn’t perhaps the word.

 Bilateral build, definitely humanoid, long braided hair over a heavily ridged forehead, nose far too large for the face, eyes a distance apart. One glimpse at Carpenter’s expression was more than enough – she was looking at a living Neanderthal man, carrying a crate of sensor components, and he was not the only one. At least a dozen of them, all wearing identical puce tunics, were on the habitation ring, either carrying crates or doing light maintenance.

 There was no possibility that Carpenter could be prevented from
gawking
; it might give the game away, but this was her life’s work in front her, the culmination of all of her training and education. Luckily, it seemed that Price misinterpreted her interest.

 “Yes, I know, they are everywhere. This is
n't
the Fleet, I’m afraid; we can’t afford to discriminate. Hell, if they wouldn’t hog all the best people...but then I shouldn’t complain, of course, they do need them. Some of them are almost as good as humans, and they take training and discipline surprisingly well.”

 “How many have you got here?” Carpenter asked, eagerly.

 “Thirty-one,” he replied, looking to his side. There was a faint blush there, an element of deception – this was definitely something worth looking into. Price walked down the deck, away from the laborers, and Orlova followed – with a tug on Carpenter’s arm to encourage her to follow. There would be plenty of time for questions later.

 “We’ve been here for sixty-two years; my grandfather established this facility from salvaged components, though it was abandoned for a couple of decades after the Council decided not to settle the planet – which incidentally is named Sandveld.” He turned, and said, “Plenty of chances for you to go down there if you want. I head down once a week, just to breathe real air and feel real gravity. Nice for a change, and one of the real perks of this job.”

 “No other ships in at the moment?”

 Frowning, he replied, “Of course not. All civilian traffic got placed on stand-down for the ambush. The only things flying are military-flagged, and we don’t usually handle those. That’s one of the reasons I was surprised to see you.”

 “Too many damaged ships, not enough facility
to fix them
,” Carpenter said. “Alamo didn’t go down easy.”

 “I guess not,” he said, stopping at a door. He tapped a five-digit sequence into an old keypad, and the door slid open to reveal a small, comfortable office. Collapsing into a seat behind a desk, he waved them to other chairs by the wall. Orlova sat under a picture of an older woman and three smiling children, standing in some sort of space station by the look of it.

 “The family,” he gestured. “I’d love to have them out here, but they need a decent education. Kitanya’s in training to be a pilot right now; I don’t know whether to hope the Fleet grabs her or not. If they don’t, I can get her out here.” He chuckled, continuing, “I can always use another shuttle pilot, but it isn’t much of a career for her. I sometimes wish there were other options.”

 “Perhaps, one day.”

 “Maybe.” He glanced down at the communicator, “I wonder how analysis is doing with that damn datapad.”

 “Don’t you trust us?” Orlova said in as playful a way as she could manage.

 “What I think or not doesn’t really matter. Myself I think that you’d be out of your mind to come out here if you were working for someone else – I mean, this station’s in the middle of nowhere, and you’d be putting yourself in danger for nothing.” A light finally beeped. “At last.”

 “Analysis here,” a speaker said – with a strange accent that Orlova couldn’t place, and a slight hesitancy over the words, as though English was not
the speaker's
natural language. “We have completed our interpretation of the data.”

 “And?”

 “Everything seems satisfactory. We have double-checked.”

 “Good.” He looked up, saying to Orlova, “I’d hate to think I was sitting with a pair of desperadoes. I suppose that takes care of everything.”

 Orlova glanced at Carpenter, trying to hide her shock. The decoy, the plan to get her into the office where she could quietly threatened the dockmaster with no-one watching, actually appeared to have work
ed
. Momentarily she was wrong-footed.

 “I’m glad we pass your muster.” 

 He chuckled, “I always feel nervous as well. Heck, when I had my first loyalty test, I was sick the night before. I kept wondering if there was something I had missed, something I shouldn’t have said or done. These things are all formalities, of course. You’ll find that out in time.” Leaning back in his chair, he continued, “I’m glad we’re beginning to get some fresh blood, anyway. The more spacemen we have, the better.”

 “Can we discuss the repair schedule, now?”

 “Of course, of course,” he said. “I think the first priority has to be getting down to the superstructure.”

 Shaking her head, Orlova replied, “That’ll take too long.”

 “Come on, Commander, I
've got
to do a proper job. If
we
take a month or two,
that's how long it's going to have to take. Think of it from my point of view – I'm responsible for your repairs.”

 “We need to be out of here in weeks, not months, Mr. Price. Concentrate on getting the ship’s systems operational. The fundamental stuff will just have to wait until we reach our next overhaul.”

 “You might not make it to another overhaul without one.”

 “Nevertheless. We have much interior damage…”

 “I saw that on the reports.”

 “And that needs handling. Repairs to sensors, communications, weapons,” she paused, then said, “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job…”

 “Funny, it looks from here as if you are doing just that.”

 “But as the commander of the ship – no matter how temporarily – I need to get what I want.
I will accept any responsibility for the consequences.
”

 “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there.”

 Taking a deep breath, Orlova said, “Is this office secure?”

 “It is.”

 “There is a real expectation that a Task Force will be sent out from the Confederation to follow up Alamo. I believe the idea is to put as many ships as possible into the firing line should that happen.”

 “Yes, we certainly can’t let them get through to the Home Systems. Not that I think putting a damaged ship into the line is a good idea…”

 “Orders are orders, Mr. Price.”

 “Quite so,” he replied. “Quite so. I take it this information is restricted?”

 “To be honest, I should not be telling you. However, I don’t see the harm in giving you a little warning. This station is not heavily defended.” 

 He barked a short laugh, then said, “Aside from a few men with guns, it isn’t defended at all. Regulations are quite clear, and I certainly won’t be the one to break them. Tempting as it might occasionally be.” Leaning across the table, he said, “Do you think this is a real danger?”

 “All I know is what I have told you.”

 Sighing, he said, “I’d better build up the depots on Sandveld a little, start making preparations for an evacuation if necessary. More paperwork. Gagh.”

 “So long as it doesn’t interfere with the work on Hercules…”

 “It won’t, it won’t.” He sighed again, and reached for a keyboard, “I’ve got an awful lot of work to do, and while I don’t want to throw you out…”

 “You need some privacy to concentrate,” Orlova said. “I quite understand.” She stood up, headed for the door, then said, “I’ll head back to Hercules.”

 “Oh, feel free to have a wander around for a bit if you want to stretch your legs. And if you want to organize leave, we’ve got some recreation facilities.” He looked up and smiled again, “By order of the Cou
rt
, what’s ours is yours anyway.”

 “Thanks, I’ll see to that.”

 The two of them walked out of the office, heading back for Hercules. Carpenter looked as if she was about to burst, but Orlova silenced her with a look, walking towards the elevator while paying as little attention as possible to her surroundings. All of this was supposed to look natural, and they had already got away with more than she had thought was possible. There was no risk blowing it at this stage.

 She was paying so little attention that she was caught off-guard by a figure staggering into her, carrying a crate that was obviously too heavy for him; one of the ‘lower caste’, who attracted the attention of one of the guards.

 “It was my fault,” Orlova said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

 “He should have been,” the guard s
cowled.

 “I said, it was my fault. Leave it.” She mustered as harsh a tone as was possible, and it seemed to work as the guard returned to his place by the airlock.

 Her heart felt lighter as she stepped into the elevator, gravity fading away as they returned to the central core. She had to keep the act going until they reached the relative safety of the ship, where they could be sure not to be overheard. The door opened, and Orlova kicked off, shaking her head as the airlock closed behind her. Nelyubov was still standing there, waiting for them.

 “I can’t believe that worked,” Carpenter said. “He bought it! The whole story!”

 “The data passed inspection?” Nelyubov said, frowning. “Are you sure?”

 “You see the security troopers?” Orlova replied. “We’re going to get the repairs we need, and we didn’t even have to use our surprise package.”

 “I still think it seems too good to be true.”

 Shrugging, Carpenter said, “It’s an out-of-the-way station…”

 “And we know that security is something that the Cabal take extremely seriously,” Nelyubov pressed. “All of this seems far too convenient. It might be a trap.”

 “Why?” replied Carpenter. “If they wanted us they could have us. We couldn’t put up much of a fight, and they don’t know about our little self-destruct system. They’d never have let us dock.”

 “Which does not mean I don’t want you both on your guard. Carpenter, I know what you want to do.”

 “Frank, they have Neander. Alive. On the station.”

 “You’re kidding.”

 “No. Maggie, I need to investigate this.”

 Sighing, Orlova replied, “What I need you to do is watch for sabotage, but it can’t do any harm to take some quiet looks around.”

 “Great. First of all I need to interview one. We know next to nothing about their belief systems, their psychology. I’ll get enough material out of this for a dozen books!” 

 Nelyubov shook his head. “I think we have higher priorities.”

 “We came here to investigate, didn’t we?”

 “Susan, I hate to say it, but he is quite right. You grew up working around life-support systems, engineering components. I want you to act as liaison with the repair teams, and make sure that everything is working as it should.” Raising a hand, she continued, “If you get a chance, feel free to conduct your research, but ship functions come first.”

 “I know,” Carpenter replied, quietly. “All my life, I’ve wanted to...meet one. When I
was just a kid
, I thought they still lived on Earth, I thought it was all real. And now it is, and…”

 “And you have a million questions to ask, all at once. Take a breath, Susan.” She felt something in her pocket, something crumpling. Reaching in, she tugged out a piece of paper, writing scrawled on it.

 “What’s that?” Nelyubov asked.

 “Your guess is as good as mine.” She smoothed out the paper and peered at it, trying to decode the tiny handwriting, “You have friends on the station who are trying to help you. If you want to know more, come down to the planet and meet the rest of us. We’ll be waiting for you, Sub-Lieutenant.” She paused, then said, “There are a series of coordinates, map references at a guess.”

 Carpenter reacted with a start, “Are you sure it said that?”

 “Absolutely.”

 “I knew all of this was too good to be true,” Nelyubov said. “What are you going to do?”

 “Keep the appointment,” she replied. “What else can I do? Price said he’d arrange a trip down
to
the planet. I’ll call and let him know that I can take him up on it.”

 “But the risk…”

 “I think, Lieutenant, that there would be a rather greater risk in not going.”

 “Maggie, you…”

 “No. This one’s mine, and mine alone.”

Chapter 7

 Cooper took a deep breath as he stepped out onto the bridge, looking around the familiar flight deck. Alpha Watch was entering the second hour of its shift, but already he could see something out of place; the watch officer’s chair was empty, Midshipman McGuire periodically leaning over from her chair at Guidance to make adjustments to the vacant console. She looked over, belatedly noticing his presence on the bridge.