by Tori Harris
“They did indeed. As to why they chose to make such a dramatic first contact, they freely admitted it was due largely to the temporary absence of our Guardian spacecraft. Otherwise, I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. At the moment, their ship is just sitting in our Yucca Mountain facility as if they’re waiting for something to happen.”
Kevin Patterson had indeed lived his life during a period that could accurately be described by the mythical but often quoted Chinese curse as “interesting times.” Of all the wondrous things he had seen and experienced, however, the expression of shock that now registered on the Pelaran Envoy’s infuriatingly smug face was a sight he would never forget.
“The ship is still here … on the surface … right now?”
“Yes, indeed, and they don’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, although we have made no effort to prevent them from doing so. Short of destroying the facility, I have my doubts we could do anything to stop them, even if we wanted to. What’s truly strange is that they haven’t given us any idea how long they intend to stay. It sounds like you’ve dealt with them in the past. Do you have any idea what they’re up to?”
“We know surprisingly little about their origin and have never officially made first contact with them ourselves in spite of multiple attempts on our part to do so. In our experience, their primary occupation seems to be a loathsome combination of interstellar piracy as well as inciting violence and discord wherever they go. You say they have thus far provided no specifics regarding the purpose of their visit and have made no demands?”
“No, sir … no demands whatsoever. Thus far, other than entering our shipyard facility without permission, they have given us no reason to believe their intentions are hostile. We do, of course, have serious concerns regarding system and information security given their demonstrated capabilities, but I doubt they’ll find anything of particular interest to them anyway.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Admiral. Terra is on the cusp of becoming a full Regional Partner as well as a Dominion within the Pelaran Alliance. There are undoubtedly a multitude of worlds that would willingly pay almost any price for even a small portion of the information the Alliance has provided you over the years.”
At that moment, Patterson heard the muffled but unmistakable sounds of increased activity in the Navajo’s CIC coupled with a series of urgent-sounding tones emanating from his tablet computer on the table in front of him. Glancing at the screen, he quickly noted the fact that the cruiser’s AI was highlighting a potentially threatening move by one of the Pelaran Guardian-class spacecraft accompanying the Envoy’s ship.
Patterson commanded himself to relax, fully aware that how he conducted himself during the next few minutes might well have a dramatic effect on the future of his homeworld. In spite of the multitude of thoughts now demanding his immediate attention, a distant part of his consciousness wondered how many times a single Human mind could bear such a burden. To the old admiral, it felt as if the timeline of Humanity’s entire existence had once again converged to rest on his shoulders at this specific time and place.
“We cannot allow that ship to leave,” he heard the Envoy say.
Wearing a stern but controlled expression on his careworn face, Patterson slowly raised his eyes to meet those of Tahiri once again. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to avoid placing the Terran GCS unit at risk, so I am dispatching the Yumaran Guardian spacecraft to the location of your shipyard facility. When it arrives, I will need you to allow it to enter and then proceed to the location of the alien ship. The Guardian will prevent the alien ship’s departure. With any luck, the Greys will recognize there is no possibility of escape and surrender without requiring the use of force. As a precaution, however, I recommend you evacuate your shipyard facility as well as the surrounding area within three hundred kilometers of the site immediately.”
“Three hundred kilometers,” Patterson repeated, his statement reflecting the absurdity of the Envoy’s recommendation. “You realize that includes the cities of Las Vegas, Fresno, and Los Angeles, right? Just off the top of my head, I’d say that’s easily fifty million people. Are you and the Greys willing to sit here and wait for a month or so while we make that happen?”
“I know it sounds a bit excessive, Admiral,” Tahiri replied consolingly, “and given the urgency of the situation, we may just have to take our chances and hope for the best. I can assure you we will do everything we can to avoid any weapons fire whatsoever. But as I said, we consider these aliens hostile and a potentially grave threat to both Terra and the Alliance as a whole. Clearly, our objectives in this situation are twofold: 1. Prevent the Greys’ from escaping with highly classified data, and 2. Capture their vessel and, if possible, any surviving crewmembers. Don’t you agree?”
“No, sir,” Patterson said after a long pause. “I can’t say that I do, but I suppose that’s of little consequence at the moment. Now, if you’ll please excuse me for a few moments, I need to sign off and ensure that none of our forces open fire on the Yumaran Guardian as it approaches our shipyard. I’ll be back with you shortly.”
With that, Admiral Patterson emphatically jabbed the touchscreen on his tablet computer and terminated the transmission.
Chapter 8
Earth, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
Immediately after Rick’s return to the Ethereal, the two Greys had taken it upon themselves to help ensure their departure would cause no damage or injuries within the Yucca Mountain facility. Accordingly, a series of rather unorthodox announcements began echoing throughout the shipyard. Rather than the familiar, synthetic voice of the facility AI, however, these messages were read by the usually silent Miguel, who seemed to be making an effort to ensure compliance by keeping the announcements as entertaining as possible.
“Attention in the shipyard. Trans-phasic hyperdrive event commencing momentarily in Berth Ten. Please don’t concern yourselves regarding precisely what that means. In fact, it’s entirely possible that I may have just made the term up to impress upon you the absolute necessity of remaining clear of Berth Ten until further notice. All equipment and personnel must remain at least one hundred meters from the Ethereal to avoid the risk of inadvertent field interactions. I can assure you that’s something none of us want. Thanks in advance for your cooperation and have a lovely day.”
As novel as Miguel’s admonitions might have been, they were generally unnecessary. With the exception of the Marine guards and sniper teams — all of whom were still posted but had pulled back several hundred meters from the ship — the entire “port” side of the shipyard had been largely deserted since Ethereal’s arrival.
Now, with the Yumaran Guardian spacecraft en route, a low, whining sound began to build from deep within the disc-shaped alien ship. Miguel, now apparently preoccupied by his duties aboard, allowed the facility AI to resume its more conventional warning announcements. “Attention, starship Ethereal departing. All personnel must remain clear of the area surrounding Berth Ten until further notice. Hearing protection is required in all exterior areas until further notice.”
Other than a few who had attended airshows featuring classic warbird aircraft, most Terran Fleet Command personnel had never witnessed a bona fide jet engine in operation firsthand. Nonetheless, the comparison to the high-pitched roar now emanating from Ethereal was obvious enough to everyone in the facility. Strangely, the ship had been virtually silent during its entry into the shipyard, leading everyone to wonder if Miguel’s warning about a “trans-phasic hyperdrive event” might actually be worthy of evacuating the facility. Whatever it was the saucer-shaped ship was preparing to do, she would have easily given the twentieth century’s venerable B-52 bomber (with its original complement of eight screaming turbojet engines) a run for its money in terms of sheer noise generation.
Unable to resist the temptation, Captain Oshiro and several key members of his staff had donned their headsets and returned to their vantage point atop
the same maintenance catwalk from which they had watched the ship’s arrival. Ultimately, all were happy they had done so, although what they saw defied even their wildest attempts to offer anything like a believable scientific explanation.
After a nearly two-minute crescendo, the ear-splitting wall of sound plateaued briefly before abruptly concluding in a brilliant flash of white light. It took the facility commander several moments worth of squinting while rubbing his temporarily flash-blinded eyes to realize the sound had disappeared — as had the starship Ethereal.
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 3.15x105 km from Earth)
At precisely the same instant the Ethereal made her unconventional departure from Yucca Mountain’s Berth 10, she made an equally unexpected arrival approximately halfway between Admiral Patterson’s formation and the remaining two Pelaran spacecraft.
“Contact,” the Navajo CIC’s tactical officer announced. “It’s the Ethereal, sir, but she’s nowhere near our Guardian spacecraft.”
“The Greys are doing something unexpected, eh? … Shocking,” he said under his breath as he made a quick series of adjustments to what was being displayed on the holographic table. “All ships, stand by for AI-initiated emergency C-Jumps if the Pelaran vessels open fire. Bear in mind we will not C-Jump as long as they display hostile intent towards the Greys’ ship only.”
“I’ve got high energy readings from the Ethereal, Admiral. She may be charging weapons.”
She’s intentionally provoking them, Patterson thought, although the words had only begun to form in his mind before both the Envoy’s ship and the remaining Guardian spacecraft opened fire with every beam emitter currently bearing on their target. Just over five hundredths of a second later, a total of twenty-three deadly streams of packetized antihydrogen particles converged at Ethereal’s location. Fortunately for its decidedly odd occupants, the saucer-shaped craft was no longer there — and now reappeared approximately twenty-eight thousand kilometers to the Pelarans’ rear.
“Pelaran weapons fire ineffective, sir,” the tactical officer reported, doing his level best to provide verbal reports of an engagement taking place in real-time at such a pace that any information more than a few microseconds old might as well have occurred during the previous week. In fact, before the word “Pelaran” had escaped his lips, the Ethereal had completed a complex series of counterattacks. Using a tactic often favored by Guardian spacecraft, the Grey ship executed a rapid series of hyperspace transitions, firing from each new position and then transitioning again before the light reflecting from its hull had reached its targets. In spite of scoring multiple hits on both Pelaran ships, the beam weapons employed were fired at their lowest rated power output, and no damage was inflicted on either target.
Unlike the vicious attack launched by the Pelaran ships, Rick’s had been intentionally harmless, and his objectives more subtle. The inscrutable Grey had neglected to share this particular part of his plan with his Terran hosts, knowing full well they would never approve of such tactics. In his opinion, however, it was important to demonstrate to the Alliance AI that technological superiority would no longer be something it could take for granted.
The “battle,” such as it was, lasted only for a few seconds. After the Ethereal’s first four transitions, the Pelaran ships ceased fire — apparently realizing that, while they had clearly lost the initiative, they also did not appear to be in any immediate danger. Also, just as Rick had predicted, the break in hostilities gave the Ethereal the opening it needed to make one final transition, this time to within just ten meters of the Terran Guardian spacecraft. After pausing for a few additional milliseconds to ensure Griffin was in position to be covered by the ship’s hyperdrive field, both vessels transitioned in a single flash of white light and were gone.
“Sir, the Ethereal has performed a transition in tandem with TFS Guardian and appears to have departed the area. Negative Argus contact on either vessel.”
“Thank you, Commander. Apparently, we’re just about the only ones out here who haven’t learned how to perform that trick yet.”
“It does seem that way today, Admiral,” the tactical officer replied, looking up from his screen with a wan smile.
“It’s alright, I get that same feeling I see registered on your face right now several times a day. I just keep telling myself that we Humans … well … we Terrans are pretty quick learners and we’re catching up fast. All we have to do is stay alive a little longer and give our scientists and engineers some time, right?”
“I hope so, sir,” the young man nodded.
“At any rate, I wasn’t really expecting we’d see our little Grey friends appear on Argus after their transition. At a minimum, I suspect we would need several more comm beacons in that direction to get a read on their jump range, so I doubt you’ll pick them up again. Please let me know immediately if you do, of course.”
“Will do, sir.”
Turning back to the holographic table, Patterson reoriented the hovering image, quickly updating the evolving tactical situation in his mind with confident, practiced movements of his hands around the perimeter of the display. As he spun the image around its vertical axis, he could see the relative positions of all three Pelaran ships with respect to both his task force as well as the more distant vessels of TFC’s Home Fleet.
This had better work, he thought darkly. We just sent the best two assets we had for going toe to toe with the Pelarans on their merry way.
TFS Fugitive, Sol System
(102 km from the Pelaran Envoy’s ship)
“Easy, Fisher,” Prescott said, drawing out the word “easy” in a long, soothing tone barely above that of a whisper. “We’re almost where we need to be … just a couple of more kilometers should do it.”
On the left side of the bridge view screen, a large window displayed an image of the Pelaran Envoy’s ship rotating about two of its axes. At several locations along the length of the target’s hull, the Fugitive’s AI had superimposed red, pulsating triangles to indicate optimum points of impact for the ship’s keel-mounted railgun. Beside each, a block of text provided several pieces of additional information, the most interesting being the estimated probability of either disabling or destroying the target in a single shot — handy information since a single shot was all they were likely to get.
“The tactical assessment already incorporates the new data Rick provided, does it not?” Prescott asked without shifting his gaze from the view screen.
“Yes, sir,” Reynolds replied. “His simulations indicated the fire lance has more than enough energy to penetrate the Envoy ship’s shields and get the job done. The only problem is reaction time. Anything above one hundred kilometers and we run the risk of the target having time to transition out of the way before the projectile arrives just over a millisecond later. On the plus side, that would probably give us the opportunity to test Rick’s projections regarding how well our grav shields hold up to Pelaran antimatter beams.”
“Unfortunately, that would probably happen anyway, even if we managed to one-shot the Envoy’s ship. There are still two other Guardians out there to deal with, remember?”
“Maybe. Personally, I’m hoping they behave like the flying monkeys at the end of The Wizard of Oz. They’ll thank us for killing the wicked witch and then just be on their way.”
“Anything’s possible, I guess. According to Tahiri, the Krayleck Guardian — which is the one still accompanying his ship — is supposed to serve the mighty Terran Dominion at this point, but I’m thinking all bets are off after it sees us take out one of its own. Tactical, any sign they’ve detected us?”
“If they have, they’re doing a good job of keeping it to themselves, sir,” Lieutenant Lau replied. “They lit up their active sensor suites right after the Ethereal transitioned, but they turned them off again once they realized the Greys had left the area. If they didn’t see us when they went active …”
“Thank you, Lau. L
et’s not jinx ourselves, shall we?”
“Target range now 99.8 km, Captain,” Fisher reported.
“Thank you, Ensign. Maintain this position, please.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Also, please confirm we have the AI standing by to handle our emergency C-Jump in the event we open fire.”
“Confirmed, sir. Our railgun round will be just over halfway to the target when we transition.”
“And assuming the Envoy returns fire, his antimatter beams should be less than halfway back to us at that point. That’s pretty damn fast … let’s just hope it’s fast enough.”
“Or that all three of them decide to pack up and head home,” Reynolds added.
“Yeah, that’s definitely the outcome we’re hoping for. And if all goes according to plan, that’s exactly what will happen.”
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 3.13x105 km from Earth)
“Lieutenant Fletcher, please get Tahiri back on the line. Audio-only this time. No need for him to be eyeballing our CIC,” Admiral Patterson said, once again reaching under the table for a headset.
“Aye, sir. Oh … wow, I guess he was waiting for your call. I have the Envoy standing by. Audio-only.”
“Uh huh, who else do we know who always answers immediately? Put him through, please.”
With a nod from the young comm officer, Patterson continued his conversation, this time in a slightly different tone than he had used earlier.
“Well, Mr. Tahiri, it looks like your warnings about the Greys were well founded. As I’m sure you saw, they somehow transitioned directly out of our facility, attacked your vessels, and then left the area with our Guardian spacecraft. Do you require our assistance?”
“My ship is undamaged, Admiral, as are my two Guardian escorts, but I thank you for your offer. Yes, I suspect they detected the approach of the Yumaran GCS unit and realized their best opportunity to steal valuable Pelaran technology in the time they had remaining was to capture your Guardian spacecraft.”
