TFS Navajo: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 3

by Tori Harris

  With the six Rusalov battleships now largely slaved to the Gunov, many of their hopelessly outdated command and control systems were rendered largely irrelevant as they became mere extensions of the flagship’s vastly more sophisticated AI. Now, as the Terran ships reached optimal range, the two massive “gunhouse” turrets mounted dorsally amidships rotated in the general direction of the lead ship in each enemy formation, paused momentarily, and opened fire.

  “Will the Humans not simply execute a rapid series of transitions to avoid the incoming rounds?” Freyda asked, growing uncharacteristically nervous under Sarafi’s intense scrutiny.

  Sarafi raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, as if he, himself, were considering the question for the first time. “Perhaps they will, but they most likely have gathered some data at this point regarding the effectiveness of our shields. If that is indeed the case, they will realize that executing rapid transitions will not be a particularly effective tactic. They cannot hope to destroy any of our remaining ships without first bringing down its shields … and they cannot hope to bring down our shields without a sustained, heavy bombardment. No, Commander, I suspect that they will attempt to utilize the combined firepower from each of their formations for that very purpose … relying on their own shields to protect them from the battleships’ main guns. Let us hope that doing so will prove a fateful mistake for the Humans.”

  Freyda looked up from her Command workstation and stared openly at her commanding officer under a furrowed brow. She was becoming increasingly convinced that Sarafi had access to a great deal more information regarding the capabilities of the Terran forces than she did, which seemed equal parts confusing, troubling, and downright irritating from her perspective.

  Noticing the look on her face, he leaned closer and spoke in a low tone that only she could hear. “We will discuss this topic at length when we are at leisure, Commander Freyda. For now, I would ask that you listen carefully to what I am able to tell you and take what I say at face value.”

  “Understood, sir,” she replied after a moment’s consideration.

  Seconds later, as the first thirty-six projectiles fired from the Rusalov battleships reached the attacking Terran warships all around the battlespace, all but eight (nearly eighty percent) of the massive shells breached their enemies’ shields and struck within just a few meters of their intended points of impact. Four of the six targeted Human warships suffered a minimum of four hits each, and the results were beyond Commodore Sarafi’s most optimistic expectations. All four were completely destroyed, with gigantic sections of their broken hulls spinning off into space in multiple directions. A huge section of one of the vessels even managed to collide with the neighboring ship in its formation — almost certainly removing it as an immediate threat in the current battle. The hulls of the final two ships targeted by the initial salvo remained intact, but both appeared to be heavily damaged and likely to be permanently dispatched with only minimal additional effort.

  Glancing at the tactical situation display at his workstation, Sarafi called up the AI’s real-time analysis of one of the Terran vessels in the moments before it had been destroyed. As he had suspected, its shields, while obviously employing an entirely different type of technology than that used by Sajeth Collective vessels, were equally vulnerable to attacks from such large projectiles. A distant part of his mind mused momentarily that effective shield design perhaps wasn’t as simple as merely dissipating kinetic energy. Indeed, the huge shells fired from the Rusalov battleships carried less energy than the dramatically smaller projectiles fired by the Terran ships — which, by contrast, were traveling at relativistic speeds. Was there something about the sheer physical size of the shells that posed a greater challenge … and for both types of shield systems? Not for the first time, Sarafi silently cursed the shortsightedness of the bureaucrats who had steered the Governing Council’s military planning committee into largely abandoning kinetic energy weapons aboard all of their newer warship classes.

  “I can now confirm Rusalov main battery hits on six of the Terran warships, sir.” Freyda reported. “Four have been completely destroyed. Three others appear to be heavily damaged … one of these was from collateral damage caused by a collision with debris.”

  “Well done,” Sarafi replied. “The rest will likely get much more difficult to hit now that they realize how effective our guns are against their shields. Once they have time to accelerate, the Terran ships are much faster than the Rusalovs’ shells, after all. Get as many hits as you can as quickly as you can.”

  “It will be my pleasure, sir,” she replied. “The second volley is already in flight. Time to impact, one six seconds.”

  Sarafi barely heard his XO’s response, having already shifted his attention to the three-ship destroyer attack on, as luck would have it, one of the two Terran “formations” that was now composed of only a single warship. Understandably, the enemy ship had broken off to port after the other two vessels in its small group had been destroyed — seconds after beginning their own attack run on the nearest Rusalov battleship. In response, the Gunov’s AI had adjusted their course and speed to arrive at a point directly above their target — diving to close the remaining distance while offering the maximum number of beam emitter emplacements a clear line of fire.

  “They have obviously detected our approach,” Freyda observed. “Why have they chosen not to open fire?”

  As if in response to her question, all of the remaining Terran ships still capable of doing so transitioned into hyperspace in ten simultaneous flashes of grayish-white light.

  “They have transitioned again, sir,” Sarafi’s tactical officer reported.

  “All of them?”

  “There were ten hyperspace departure signatures. They appear to have left their three damaged warships to fend for themselves. Two of these appear to have lost power. The third is moving away from our forces using their sublight engines.”

  “Time to intercept the third vessel from our current position?”

  “She is very nearly on the opposite side of our perimeter, Commodore and accelerating rapidly at the moment. We can still catch her without transitioning to hyperspace, but it will take a while — approximately six minutes at her current rate of acceleration.”

  “Very good, do it.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Freyda interjected, “but can we not simply transition to a point just beyond the target to perform our intercept?”

  “Ordinarily, I would say that is precisely what we should do, but, based on the fact that the Humans located our second rally point so quickly, we must assume that they have developed the capability to track our vessels in hyperspace. If we transition, we could very well be telegraphing our intentions. Have you not also noticed that they appear to be making lengthy transitions without significantly changing their locations?”

  “Between their first and second attacks? Yes, sir, I did.”

  “As you know, we have used such tactics ourselves at times, but doing so requires us to relocate our forces to an intermediate location, then transition back to the combat zone.”

  “And you believe that they are simply entering hyperspace, remaining stationary — perhaps even repositioning their vessels — before returning to normal space? I realize that such a thing is possible, but do you believe them capable of that kind of technological prowess so recently after achieving interstellar travel? Our own ships cannot do so … even after centuries of hyperdrive development.”

  “We cannot do so at the moment, no, but our scientists and engineers fully grasp the underlying physics regarding why that is so. We understand many such things from a theoretical perspective. We have simply not yet dedicated sufficient time and resources into translating that knowledge into practical application,” Sarafi replied, his voice taking on a more harsh, menacing tone. “You used the word ‘achieve,’ Commander. Bear in mind that the Humans have ‘achieved’ very little of their current technological capabilities on their own. So, yes,
I believe them capable of many things that would, under normal circumstances, remain well beyond their grasp for centuries to come. That dangerous paradox of capability without the discipline and knowledge required for achievement is fundamentally why we are here, is it not?”

  “Well said, Commodore. It is indeed,” Freyda replied solemnly.

  “Have the closest Rusalovs target the two disabled Terran warships and destroy them immediately.”

  Freyda hesitated, looking up from her Command workstation to stare into her commanding officer’s eyes, hoping she had somehow misheard what he had said. She knew better than to question Sarafi’s orders in front of the bridge crew, particularly when he began speaking in that distant, angry — almost patronizing — voice that he tended to slip into at times. The truly dangerous thing about zealots, she thought, is not so much that they are completely wrong but rather that they passionately believe themselves to be completely right.

  “Ragini,” he began again in a much more conciliatory tone. “I understand and share your reluctance to destroy the damaged Terran vessels. If, however, we still believe that our reasons for ever contemplating this mission in the first place were and remain just, then we have little choice in the matter. It is my belief that the Humans currently possess only a few vessels with the capabilities demonstrated by the ships attacking us now. In fact, what we are facing here today may well constitute their entire fleet. If that is the case, we must do everything within our power to eliminate them now if we are to have any chance of success once we launch our attack on Terra.”

  Freyda continued to stare back at him, a look of uncertainty mixed with a hint of disappointment clouding her normally confident face. “I am sorry, sir, I …”

  “No, Commander, you need not apologize. You show both courage and wisdom in questioning such orders. In fact, dealing with the potential repercussions of such a morally ambiguous action is a burden that I should bear alone.”

  With that, Sarafi quickly entered the necessary instructions at his own Command workstation to direct fire at the two disabled warships. Just three seconds later, the two closest Rusalov battleships completed the loading cycle for their main guns and immediately fired six rounds at each target.

  “Twelve shells in flight,” the Gunov’s tactical officer reported after placing windows displaying both of the damaged Terran warships on the port side of the bridge display screen. “Time to impact, one four and one six seconds, respectively.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  As the remaining seconds before impact ticked slowly past, not a word was spoken on the Gunov’s bridge. Each officer present did their level best to affect an air of the routine — busying themselves with their individual tasks as if doing so might somehow insulate them from the atrocity to which they had now become a party.

  On the bridge display screen, six simultaneous explosions erupted along the entire length of the first Terran ship, followed shortly thereafter by an almost identical scene as the second ship also took six direct hits. The light and thermally enhanced images on the screen did little justice to the nuclear-induced hell that had just been unleashed aboard the enemy vessels, but it was clear enough that the fire spewing like geysers from each point of impact represented only a tiny fraction of what was taking place inside their hulls. Although both vessels remained intact, it was obvious that both were now little more than gutted hulks — adrift without power and, in all likelihood, with no survivors.

  “Both enemy warships destroyed, Commodore,” the tactical officer finally reported after allowing what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time to pass. “The last Terran ship is maintaining course and has stopped accelerating. Time to intercept: four minutes.”

  Chapter 9

  TFS Theseus, Location Dagger

  (3.3 light years from Earth)

  “Transition complete, Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi reported. “All systems in the green. C-Jump range 100.3 light years and stable. Sublight engines online, we are free to maneuver.”

  “Tactical, what’s the status of Badger 2 Flight?” Prescott asked.

  “Commander Waffer still has them broken out into two separate elements, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Schmidt reported. “Badger 21 is still in the same general area as before — and still in a position to cover the Baldev’s stern — but they have taken a few casualties. I’m showing two zero of the original two four fighters remaining. Badger 22 has lost one as well, but they have now been reinforced by Captain Zhukov’s six spacecraft for a total of one seven. Both elements are still engaged with Bravo 1’s fighters, but they do appear to have the upper hand at this point.”

  “Are they taking fire from Bravo 1?”

  “Sporadic fire only, sir. Our ships have remained in pretty close proximity with theirs, so Bravo 1 isn’t getting much of an opportunity to take a shot.”

  “Are you still showing eighteen Hunters remaining?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re still attached to Waffer’s Badger 21 element. Once Bravo 1 started launching fighters again, he sent all of the Hunters in the opposite direction. It looks like he intends to hold them in reserve for the time being.”

  Prescott paused, weighing the potential benefits of assisting the remaining fighters versus another attack on the Baldev herself.

  “What are you thinking?” Reynolds asked after a few moments.

  “That we could probably transition pretty close to Badger 21 Flight and take out the remaining enemy fighters, possibly avoiding any further losses in the process.”

  “But …”

  “But in so doing, we would most likely make ourselves and our remaining fighters vulnerable to attack from the Baldev herself. As much as I hate to continue ignoring them, our only path to victory requires the Theseus to take out the battleship … or at least her supplemental shields. Do you concur?”

  “I do, sir. And I don’t think you’ve been ignoring our fighters. Looking out for each other is one thing, but as soon as destroying the enemy is no longer the number one priority, defeat becomes a near certainty.”

  “That’s pretty good, Commander. Did you just make that up?”

  “Thank you, I did,” she smiled. “Now let’s get this over with before any more Resistance ships show up. The way things are going, I’m sure it will be more battleships.”

  “Agreed. Ensign Fisher, how long until you have us in a position to C-Jump back?”

  “To put us in a good position for another attack on the Baldev’s stern, six three seconds, sir.”

  In spite of his usual efforts to maintain as relaxed an air as possible on his bridge, Prescott was beginning to feel the effects of prolonged, battle-induced stress. At the edges of his consciousness, there was a blurring of his normally keen perception coupled with an emotion that he rarely experienced in any significant measure — fear. It was not a fear born of physical cowardice so much as the crushing weight of responsibility now resting on his shoulders — the dread of failure magnified in the tired mind of a man who had rarely done so. Above all, it was the fear of making a mistake — even the simplest oversight or omission — leading immediately to the deaths of thousands and shortly thereafter to the deaths of billions.

  Although, intellectually, Prescott knew the comparison to a little on the silly side, what kept coming to mind was the hopeless, sick feeling he had always experienced when stepping into the batter’s box as an eight-year-old child playing Little League baseball. He had hated baseball — had played mostly because he thought (incorrectly) that his father expected him to — and his utter lack of prowess on the field had borne witness to his corresponding lack of interest. Now, however, his childish anxiety of appearing foolish in front of his family and friends had been replaced by the stark reality that a mistake here could well mean the loss of … everything.

  This will be the third time Yagani has seen us execute an almost identical attack, he thought. Is this what it feels like right before you get yourself and all the people who depend on you ki
lled?

  Swallowing hard to counteract the taste of bile rising in the back of his throat and a growing uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing.

  “Alright Helm … Tactical,” he said in as close to his normal tone as he could manage, “with any luck, this will be the last time we have to do this. I want this attack run to play out like a combination of our first two. The first time we hit Bravo 1’s stern, we did more damage than expected, taking out a number of their supplemental shield emitters. But then we blew past them before we could capitalize on the effects of Schmidt’s point location attack. We corrected that problem during the attack on Charlie 4, but doing so forced us to remain under fire for an extended period of time. Probably the only thing that saved us from significant energy weapons damage was Charlie 4 shifting her fire to take out our fighters’ missiles and Bravo 1 holding her fire for fear of hitting their cruiser. I think we can all agree that it’s a very bad idea for us to spend that much time astern of Bravo 1. So this time, I want us to coordinate our attacks with a large-scale missile attack from our remaining RPSVs. Lieutenant Lee, I’d like you to handle the Hunters, please.”

  “Aye, sir,” he replied confidently.

  “Lieutenant Dubashi, before I go into more detail, please warn our fighters that we will be retaking control of our RPSVs and executing another attack on Bravo 1’s stern — ETA: zero two minutes. Tell them to launch their own missile strike on the battleship immediately if they see the supplemental shields drop.”

  “Aye, sir,” Dubashi replied.

  “We already know that a bunch of missile impacts aren’t enough to bring down Bravo 1’s shields on their own, but I do think we’ve established a pretty consistent pattern that there are limits to what they can withstand — particularly when we deliver an overwhelming amount of energy to a small area. So this,” he said, nodding towards the port view screen, “is what I want you to hit …”