Codename Alpha: Intervention

Chapter Twelve - Auf der Flucht

We were all in the kitchen for quite a while. By the end of it, pretty much everyone had given their personal take on the current political situation on Earth, which, by all accounts, was precarious. That didn't come as much of a surprise, though it still wasn't any more palatable. There were many foreign nouns being tossed around that I didn't recognize in the slightest, or have the nerve to interrupt them and ask for clarification. I figured I'd probably just end up asking Alden about what "Stalin" or "Beirut" were, as Traugott had suggested.

I would've liked to have asked more potentially positive questions, particularly ones about their optimism about space travel prior to our arrival in their solar system, or their handling of poverty, things of that sort. After all, if they were ahead of us in terms of nuclear weapons in pretty much every way, it was feasible there'd be some other technological or social fields they were also doing very well in. Unfortunately, I knew that Yashina and Simek were both waiting outside of the door, and we didn't have hours to talk.

Despite that, and the subject of the conversation, the general mood among us all was actually quite positive. Though it certainly wasn't a party, none of them were hostile towards me and pretty forthcoming with information about Earth. I took this as an indication that they recognized the mutineers for what they were, and weren't taking them as representatives for our entire civilization. Considering the situation, I really couldn't hope for much more.

"You've all been very helpful," I said. "Now, I really have to ask you all to cooperate with the mutineers. Nobody's died yet, and I hope that none of us want that to change. It's undeniable that this is a hostage crisis, but that does mean that you all are more valuable alive than dead to the mutineers. Just don't piss them off too much, and you should be fine." Everyone nodded in agreement, which I found comforting. "You can expect me back in the mess hall for dinner tonight, and it's plausible I'll be accompanied by, uh... counterinsurgents, if that's the right word." I wasn't entirely sure about that - both the word and whether or not I'd be able to get the ship reclaimed by this afternoon. Come to think of it, I didn't really have any historical context or something to gauge how long mutinies, coups, or whatever usually lasted. Regardless, I just had to hope nobody could pick up on that. "Any questions?"

"How many mutineers are there, exactly?" Matveyeva asked. He now seemed to be fairly reserved, having entirely dropped his earlier irritable attitude. "After all, the shuttlebay is on the other side of the ship from here. They will likely fortify the corridors leading to the mess hall and bridge, and there's no telling how that fight will go. I feel we'd lose our 'political value' once any of the mutineers encounter resistance."

I drew in a deep breath, not entirely sure of how to respond. The first part of the question was easy, the latter parts weren't. "Seventeen, not including myself. We don't necessarily have to use the normal corridors, though. There are a network of maintenance crawl ways that run throughout the ship, and even the ventilation shafts were designed to be just wide enough to fit somebody, though... not comfortably."

Matveyeva nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. I was relieved he didn't press any further. "Have the mutineers made any demands to ground control? For either of us?" Bradford asked, motioning across the whole group. "At least on our side, we've got some leeway when it comes to communications blackouts because. On the books, we're putting a satellite in orbit for the DOD." He seemed to lapse into english for a moment. That word didn't have much meaning to me, but I figured it had something to do with the American government. "It's been hours at this point, though. They likely presume something catastrophic has happened."

"Yeah," Carpenter interjected. "We've gone for too long without checking in. Ordinarily, they'd assume some sort of general emergency has happened, but probably by this point they've taken a look at your ship, and Columbia, with a telescope and seen no damage. Well, damage that wasn't already there," he shrugged. "Either way, at this point, they probably know something is wrong. If the DOD gets involved, it'll probably become a matter of national security, and people will get suspicious. This whole operation has been carefully organized with all sorts of codewords so that even to the media it'll appear as some kind of top-secret diplomatic mission between the US and the Warsaw Pact, but even then, losing contact with a shuttle's gonna be a real mess."