by Tori Harris
“Agreed,” Prescott nodded. “Sir, I don’t know how we will ever repay you for all of the assistance you have provided our people. There is no doubt in my mind that none of us — and by ‘us’ I mean our entire species — would have survived without your help.”
“Any man of honor, yourself included, would have done the same in my place, but I appreciate the sentiment in any case. Regarding how you may, as you say, ‘repay’ me,” he paused, smiling fiercely, “fear not, young Captain, you will be provided with that opportunity soon enough.”
Guardian Spacecraft, Earth
(0059 Local - South Pacific Ocean - 123 km Above the Island of Tonga)
With a blue flash of light easily visible from the ground over a huge, but still relatively remote section of the Earth’s surface, the Guardian spacecraft transitioned from hyperspace less than two kilometers from its target. A quick scan of the rather utilitarian Sazoch delivery system indicated that, in spite of its having been launched, the onboard AI had been ordered to place its containment system in a “fail-safe” mode and had not been granted authorization to deploy its deadly payload. After a brief interaction with the weapon, it all but abandoned any attempts at preventing the unauthorized access to its most sensitive systems. As a result, the Guardian was able to assess that there was little danger that biological materials would be released — even in the event of an unpowered descent to the surface. The weapon was aware that it could not return to its host vessel and further indicated that it intended to seek a remote location near the planet’s southern pole to set down and await its recovery by friendly forces. As had so often been the case throughout Terran history, dumb luck — or perhaps divine providence — had served their species far better than any knowledge or technology they had managed to acquire.
Thousands of possible scenarios flashed through the Guardian’s consciousness, even as it powered up its weapon systems and prepared to fire on its target. The Makers generally discouraged outright dishonesty. Deception, on the other hand — particularly the omission or purposeful delay of certain key pieces of information — was permissible under certain circumstances. The Humans were very fond of the notion that morality was a flexible concept, tinged with shades of grey rather than absolutes. Surely, then, they could hardly fault others for similar thinking … particularly their allies or those seeking to become their allies. Membership in the Alliance was, after all, wholly in their best interest.
Structural analysis of the Sazoch delivery system — a fine name for such a weapon, it thought — indicated that the safest method of forcing a landing at a given location was removal of its drive section at a precise instant during its descent. Once this occurred, the engines would continue to provide thrust for a few additional seconds, followed by an uncontrolled plunge into the South Pacific Ocean, just off the southernmost tip of South America. The payload section would then follow a fairly predictable descent profile utilizing a series of emergency gravitic generators and small thrusters to prevent a hard landing.
Approximate landing area selected … four seconds remaining. A “test,” then, as Admiral Patterson said — or, more accurately, the application of a specific set of circumstances to better illustrate the benefits of Alliance membership, the Guardian thought, as it opened fire on the Sazoch delivery system.
***
Just over one hour later, the following “Flash” Emergency Action Message was received via the reserved command and control channels of the NRD network:
Z1303
TOP SECRET MAGI PRIME
FM: GUARDIAN SPACECRAFT - SOL SYSTEM
TO: EAM — TFC FLEET OPS
INFO: SUCCESSFUL ATMOSPHERIC INTERCEPT OF SAJETH COLLECTIVE SPACECRAFT
1. SMALL SPACECRAFT BELIEVED TO BE CARRYING WEAPONIZED BIOLOGICAL AGENTS INTERCEPTED OVER SOUTHERN PACIFIC OCEAN.
2. NO SUBMUNITIONS OR DRONES WERE DETECTED DURING INTERCEPT, BUT RECOMMEND EXTREME CAUTION.
3. AREA IN THE VICINITY OF ANY WRECKAGE SHOULD BE QUARANTINED PENDING DECONTAMINATION.
4. RECOMMEND TWO HUNDRED KILOMETER SEARCH AREA CENTERED AROUND -56.17333, -67.83410.
5. GUARDIAN SPACECRAFT AVAILABLE FOR IMMEDIATE CONSULTATIONS REGARDING REMEDIATION EFFORTS.
Epilogue
Earth, Patagonian Desert
(128 km Northwest of Tres Cerros, Argentina)
Although the cold, dry air is still breathable and the local gravity hovers very near the planetary standard of 9.81 m/s2, there is little else about the Earth’s fourth largest desert that most Humans would recognize as “home.” Once a vast, temperate forest, the formation of the Andes Mountains to the west a mere forty-five million years prior covered much of the region with volcanic ash. As the mountain chain rose ever higher, its jagged peaks impeded the flow of moisture from the Pacific Ocean — a “rain shadow” that ultimately created one of the most barren, inhospitable locations that planet Earth has to offer.
With a near constant stream of cool mountain air descending down the leeward side of the Andes, the Patagonian Steppe experienced strong winds throughout the year. And over the past hour, its ever-present, mournful howl had served to mask the low, rumbling sounds of four Sherpa Autonomous Space Vehicles operating in the area. The first of these had arrived from the north, immediately beginning a series of overflights in a precise, grid-like search pattern. Although there was no way to know precisely what kind of pathogen they were looking for, the shuttles were equipped with a broad range of sensors capable of detecting even the most minute traces of chemical or biological agents. Based on the intelligence currently in hand, a modified virus of terrestrial origin was deemed the most likely delivery vector. In this at least, the Sazoch’s crash site had been something of a lucky break for the personnel tasked with securing the area. With the region’s extremely sparse Human population and relatively sterile biome, it was hoped that even the smallest release of weaponized biological materials would be easily detectable.
Once multiple sweeps of the area had been completed with no signs of contamination detected, three additional Sherpas had arrived, along with a high altitude combat air patrol of eight Argentinian fighter aircraft. Although the fighters had clearly been dispatched by the Argentinian government, the four Sherpas each bore an emblem that was neither that of Terran Fleet Command nor the Argentinian component of the Central and South American Union.
After the Sherpas had finished deploying troops at several strategic locations to establish a defensive perimeter, a much larger group disembarked and set to work on the crash site itself. All of the obviously military personnel wore full body armor that appeared to be of similar design to earlier versions of TFC’s combat EVA suits. Combat operations seemed unlikely at such a remote location on the Earth’s surface, but the suits also offered protection from all known chemical and biological agents, which seemed by far the most likely threat to their occupants at the moment. All of the other personnel in the area had donned the latest in “Level A” hazmat suits, although there had been some debate as to whether such precautions would ultimately prove futile if a release had indeed occurred.
The Sazoch spacecraft itself was in surprisingly good condition, considering how it had arrived at this location. Its main propulsion unit had been sheared off with almost surgical precision during the Guardian’s attack, landing nearly a thousand kilometers to the south near Cape Horn. Here, however, the weapon system’s heavily armored payload module was still largely intact, and appeared to have landed under power to some degree — perhaps even utilizing a form of gravitic braking in order to arrest its rapid descent to the desert floor. Intact or not, the team processing the crash site was taking no chances. Two of the four shuttles had situated themselves just upwind, allowing technicians to uncoil several long hoses from their cargo bays. Each hose fed a bank of nozzles that immediately began dousing the entire site with a fine spray of chemicals in an effort to eradicate anything that might be released during the next phase of their recovery operation.
Now, less than thir
ty minutes after the last of the four Sherpas had landed and secured the area, a gigantic military transport arrived, touching down in a cloud of dust just south of the crash site. Within minutes, an additional team of technicians attached a series of gravitic maneuvering units to locations on the Sazoch’s payload module deemed structurally sound enough to allow it to be lifted off the ground. Once satisfied that there were sufficient GMUs to minimize the risk of additional damage, the entire assembly was maneuvered — with such infinite care that its movement was barely perceptible to the Human eye — until it rested once again in the center of what appeared to be a huge, tent-like structure. After being secured in place, lightweight, structural “ribs” were quickly installed above the payload module before the entire assembly was enclosed in an enormous, inflatable cargo container not unlike the expandable evacuation pods used by TFC.
Colonel Mateus Rapoza, the officer in overall command of the operation, had made it a point to stay well clear of the Sazoch itself, choosing instead to monitor progress through binoculars and via comlink from a low hill just west of the crash site. With the most dangerous portion of the recovery now complete, he breathed a long sigh of relief while establishing a secure comlink via his tablet.
***
Over ten thousand kilometers to the northwest — just outside the Terran Fleet Command Headquarters campus — a contingent of twenty-five heavily armed private military contractors exited their small fleet of nondescript, black vehicles. Moving with practiced efficiency, they quickly established a security perimeter between their “principal” and the high-speed executive transport idling on the adjacent landing pad. Each member of the team understood all too well that a delay of any sort would not be tolerated. Accordingly, those unfortunate enough to be stationed in the immediate vicinity of their charge’s vehicle glanced around nervously behind their dark sunglasses — anxiously awaiting clearance to complete the final leg of their brief escort mission.
After a tense twelve-minute administrative hold due in part to a last ditch legal challenge from TFC’s Judge Advocate General’s office, permission to depart was finally granted. Everyone present expected nothing less than a spectacular tongue-lashing upon opening the vehicle’s door, so they were pleased to see that their charge had just accepted a call via her tablet, and paid them no attention whatsoever as she brushed past on the way to her aircraft.
“Is the device secured?” she asked without preamble.
“Yes, ma’am. The coordinates you provided were spot-on. I’m pleased to report that we have detected no contamination, and the device itself is largely intact. The entire assembly has been isolated in a sealed cargo inflatable that meets all of the requirements for Biological Safety Level 4 containment. We are preparing for departure now, and should be clear of the area in fifteen minutes.”
“Well done, Colonel Rapoza. Please proceed with transport as quickly as possible. I will be en route shortly and should be able to meet you at our facility as planned. TFC is still somewhat in disarray at the moment, but it won’t take them long to realize that there is nothing of value at the southernmost crash site. Before you leave, make absolutely certain that no evidence remains to indicate that you were ever there.”
“Understood. Thank you Madame Chair —”
“Mrs. Crull will do for now, Colonel,” she interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Mrs. Crull.”
“Keep the operation moving, Colonel. We absolutely cannot allow this abomination to fall into the wrong hands.”
_________________________________
End of Part 1
THANK YOU!
I’d like to express my sincerest thanks for reading TFS Navajo. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and will be interested in the next installment of The Terran Fleet Command Saga (expected release: spring of 2017).
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OTHER BOOKS BY TORI L. HARRIS
The Terran Fleet Command Saga
TFS Ingenuity
TFS Theseus
TFS Navajo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in 1969, four months before the first Apollo moon landing, Tori Harris grew up during the era of the original Star Wars movies and is a lifelong science fiction fan. During his early professional career, he was fortunate enough to briefly have the opportunity to fly jets in the U.S. Air Force, and is still a private pilot who loves to fly. Tori has always loved to read and now combines his love of classic naval fiction with military Sci-Fi when writing his own books. His favorite authors include Patrick O’Brian and Tom Clancy as well as more recent self-published authors like Michael Hicks, Ryk Brown, and Joshua Dalzelle. Tori lives in Tennessee with his beautiful wife, two beautiful daughters, and Bizkit, the best dog ever.
