Battlecruiser Alamo: Not One Step Back (19 page)

 The doors opened on the lower level, and as he’d hoped, it was quiet as he walked down the curving corridor towards Mulenga’s nest. He walked into the room, and the astrogator was looking up at the stars, at a map of local space that surrounded him, lines dancing from one to another at the touch of a button.

 “Good morning, Captain,” he said, not turning around. “Should you not be in sleep cycle?”

 “I couldn’t sleep; have you read Orlova’s report?”

 “Fascinating reading. I take it you are here to see what I make of it from an astrogation point of view?”

 Marshall paused, “To an extent, but there was something else I needed to talk to you about.”

 “Our impending expedition to locate the Cabal?” He turned, a twinkle in his eye, and smiled at the startled Marshall. “Come, Captain, I can read between the lines as well as anyone. Suddenly I am given an assistant to train, a full upgrade to my software, new astrographic data. For a simple triangular mission to here and Proxima I need none of those things, nor do we need a hastily recruited Science Officer.”

 “I was coming down here to talk to you about it.”

 Nodding, he replied, “I’m glad you feel that you can trust me. What does Lieutenant Caine think?”

 Rubbing his hand across his eyes, Marshall said, “Am I really that transparent?”

 “Only to those of us who have worked closely with you, sir.”

 “I see.” He paused, looking up at the charts, “If you were in command, where would you go looking?”

 “We don’t even have any sailing orders this time?”

 “Commodore Tramiel told me to go where I thought I should look. Frankly, I suspect he knows I’d have gone a-hunting anyway if I’d found a lead.”

 “I see.” Manipulating controls, a simulated Alamo jumped from star to star, roving across local space. “As far as I can tell, it boils down to two choices, neither of them a certainty. The first would be to follow up the leads from Jefferson, to refuel at the new depot at Sagdeev and explore that cluster. There are several viable possibilities, but my analysis of the data does not provide any more helpful information.”

 “No more Jeffersons?”

 Smiling, Mulenga replied, “It is my understanding that every astrophysicist in the fleet has been working on this problem since we returned. New analysis of the data has found some new planets, yes, but nothing habitable. Which does not, of course, mean that they do not exist.”

 “Because they are only analyzing old data gathered from instruments that are now obsolete, and at range.”

 “At some point the Confederation should consider a more thorough analysis of this problem. Four ships at the right stars could tell us a vast amount with a few weeks’ observation. Still, this is not the time or place for such a debate.”

 “So Sagdeev is the first option. What’s the second.”

 He pushed another button, and a red dwarf appeared on the screen. “Innes’ Star. One jump from here, and reaching to a vast number of potential systems. Until our discovery of the scout, we had no reason to suspect that the Cabal would be anywhere near that location, but that may be changing.”

 “One jump away,” Marshall mused. “What’s there?”

 “Six planets, no gas giants,
a
rather large Kuiper Belt. Two previous expeditions reported nothing of interest, the last of them thirty-nine years ago.”

 “That long?”

 “No reason to push out that far,
in that direction
. The second visit was part of the last Eurasian expedition, and I rather suspect that we must discount their findings.”

 “You presume some sort of a cover-up?”

 “Given our recent discoveries, I don’t think we dare assume anything else.”

 “At least it narrows it down to two choices. Which would you take?”

 The astrogator shrugged, “With this little information to work with, we might as well toss a coin, Captain. Ideally, we would use two ships and follow both leads.”

 “The scout?”

 “Potentially, but I personally wouldn’t want to be on board that vessel for an extended period, certainly not without a full overhaul.” He looked up at the stars again, “I’d be tempted for Innes’, though.”

 “Why?”

 He turned, smiling, “I’ve never been there.”

 Marshall shook his head, “I wish that was sufficient reason for going.”

 “In a sane universe, it would be.” He paused, “How are you getting on with our new Operations Officer.”

 “She seems to be doing her job well enough, though I wish she wouldn’t antagonize everyone she dealt with quite so much.”

 “Perhaps you should discuss this with her?”

 “I’ve only known her a week; it took me long enough to decide to trust you with this. You realize that you are the seventh person in the Confederation to find out about this mission?”

 “They really are concerned about security violations this time, then. Wise, though given that much of the crew is expecting this assignment in any case, I’m not certain it is necessary.” He looked out again at his starscape. “If you don’t trust her, Captain, how can you expect her to trust you?”

 Quietly, Marshall nodded, replying, “You might have a point. I should bring Cunningham into the loop as well.”

 “If only because he will assume command should something happen to you, that would be wise.” 

 “I’ll have a word with him tomorrow. With both of them.”

 “I understand that Lieutenant Zebrova takes her breakfast alone, in the observation deck, at about this time of day.”

 With a smile, Marshall said, “I think I might go up there and take a look at the view myself. Thanks.”

 “Any time, sir,” Mulenga replied, as Marshall turned to head back for the elevator shaft. He still had a datapad in his pocket, and while he waited for the doors to open, he called up Zebrova’s record, wondering what led the Commodore to assign her to his ship. He was still uncertain whether she was supposed to be a lesson for him to learn from, or the reverse – or both, for that matter.

 He slid through her record, noting the summary of her career again, and then tapped to look at the transfer documentation, and his eyes widened as he read her request. She hadn’t simply been assigned to Alamo, she’d specifically requested the posting – and had managed to get it. The doors opened, and he stepped in, punching for the observation deck, frowning.

 During the trip through the decks, he read her request three times. It was heavily couched in official jargon, all the usual phrases included, with a notation that she specifically is not requesting a senior command posting – more surprising, when he knew that she had been offered her own command. Certainly she didn’t lack ambition, that much was obvious.

 The door opened, and he stepped into the room, basking in the purple storms of Kumar’s upper atmosphere that dominated the view. Zebrova was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a food container in front of her, a pair of chopsticks in her hand, both of them ornately decorated; she didn’t get those from a food dispenser.

 “Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said, sitting down on the deck next to her.

 “Captain,” she replied through a mouthful of rice.

 “This is the big perk of the job for me. The view.”

 “I can imagine. This is the first time I’ve left Sol; I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is more than I had hoped for.”

 He raised an eyebrow, “Another of the born tourists we find ourselves with.”

 “Is that a problem, sir?”

 “Not at all, I approve completely.” He paused, pulling out his datapad, “I’ve been reviewing your personnel file. You told me that you had turned down a command to take this posting.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “You didn’t tell me that you had specifically requested this assignment.”

 “I heard that you had a vacancy for an Operations Officer, and I volunteered.”

 “Why? I’d understand if the Exec’s position was open, but that’s a step down for you.” 

 She put her chopsticks down into the bowl, and turned to face him, “I felt that this was a better place for me to be. I’d like to be your Executive Officer, I think I’d do a good job…”

 “Better than the incumbent?” Marshall asked with a quick smile.

 “That is not for me to say, sir. Nevertheless, I felt that this was where I needed to be.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you need me, sir. Did you see my last appointment?”

 “Military aide to the Extrasolar Affairs Committee.”

 She nodded, “It was an excellent assignment, and allowed me to evaluate all of the ships going interstellar, and their commanders. I judged you to be the best of them, and Alamo the best ship.”

 Frowning, Marshall replied, “You judged us?”

 “The results of your missions to date speak for themselves, and my observation of the other command crews suggest that not all would have performed so well. I wanted to serve on the best ship in the fleet, and once I saw your opening, I couldn’t get my application in quickly enough.”

 “I suppose I’m honored, Lieutenant.”

 She nodded, curtly, “I apologize if I’ve overstepped myself.”

 “Not at all. I’m flattered, if slightly surprised.” 

 “I identified the Operations department as that most in need of my services in any case. I know that it will take a little while, but you will see definite improvements in the next few weeks. I’d like to discuss a few other changes to the rotation…”

 Marshall raised his hand, “Later, Lieutenant. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

 She paused, nodding, “Yes, sir?”

 “You speculated earlier that Alamo was going out, after the Cabal. Instead of continuing to Proxima.”

 “Again, sir, if I misspoke…”

 “No. As it happens,” he paused, “you were quite correct. I’m operating under sealed orders.”

 She smiled, nodding. “Then I was correct. Thank you for bringing me into the loop.” She frowned, “Though I am now the one that is surprised.”

 “Because you haven’t been on board for a long time? I trust my officers, Lieutenant. If I didn’t, then this ship simply wouldn’t function. What I need now is your advice.”

 “Sir?”

 “Our destination has been left to me; I’ve been given no specific sailing orders.”

 “Interesting.”

 “There are two choices – either to head back up to the area around Jefferson, or to proceed to Innes’ Star.”

 “Following up on Sub-Lieutenant Orlova’s report?”

 “Yes.”

 “I would suggest Jefferson, via Sagdeev, based on the information we have now.” She continued before Marshall could reply, “However, I would not want to commit at this point. We don’t know enough.”

 Marshall smiled, replying, “I was hoping that you had come up with something I hadn’t.”
 “There simply isn’t enough information for a definitive decision at this point. You do realize, if it helps, that we aren’t the only ship assigned to this operation?”

 Frowning, he said, “What do you mean?”

 “Everyone would be expecting Alamo to be sent after the Cabal. Were I in Commodore Tramiel’s chair, I would send Alamo as a decoy, with a second ship sent on the same mission more quietly.”

 “That...hadn’t occurred to me, Lieutenant.”

 “I thought you might find it helpful, sir. If you fear that you might be missing a potential option, another ship will likely follow it up.”

 Marshall smiled, “Actually, it does. Thank you, Lieutenant, I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

 “My pleasure, sir.” She turned back to the view as Marshall rose to his feet, walking out of the room.

Chapter 18

 “Damn it, it’s just not going to work,” Harper said, smashing her hands against the keyboard. “I can’t hack a network that doesn’t exist. They’ve broken every connection I can think of.”

 Logan crouched against the wall, shaking his head, “We’ve got to get through. That’s the only place that has the information we’re looking for.”

 “What do you want to do, walk in and ask?” Boris said through a mouthful of food.

 “Why not?” Harper replied, looking up.

 Sighing, Boris said, “It’s a crackpot organization where I’m the voice of reason.”

 “No, I’m serious.” She started to type again, calling up a series of station schematics. “There are dozens of points where the station’s network ought to be plugged in, and all we have to do is reconnect them.”

 “Could you do that quickly?” Logan said, as there was a faint knock at the door. Boris and Harper reacted quickly, the latter crouching beside the door, the former drawing his pistol. Logan looked at Boris and waved his pistol away.

 “Do you honestly think that they’re going to attack us in the security office?”
 “Just wanted to be careful,” Boris said, sheepishly putting his gun back in its holster.

 “Come on in,” Logan said, and the father of the boy who had been shot drifted into the room, looking around nervously at the group. He held Logan’s Republic card in his hands, running it along his sleeve.

 “Er, hello,” he said.

 “How’s your son?”

 “Better,” he said, nodding, “he’s going to be fine. Thanks to you – there’s no way I could have afforded the surgery.”

 “The doctor would have refused without payment?” Logan said, shaking his head.

 “No free clinics here. I’d have had to indent myself.” He tossed the card over to Logan, “I spent two thousand, three hundred. I’ll pay you back…”

 “No, you won’t.” Logan said, tossing the card back to him. “How long have you been out here?”

 “Seven months. I was looking for work, but…”

 “The recruiter sold you down the river,” Boris said. “Same old story.”

 “I wanted a better life for my kids, damn it.” He looked down at the card.

 “Where’s home?”

 “Mars,” he replied. “Point Hay.”

 “There’s seven thousand on that card now,” Logan said. “Take it. Go home. Your kids are on the borderline for gravity adaptation.”

 “Don’t you think I know that?” He looked at the card, pale, “I can’t take this.”
 “Yes you can. Some day you’ll have a chance to pay someone back for it. Remember it then.” He leaned forward, “There’s a ship heading back to Mars in a couple of days. Be on it. If I see you on this station after that…”