by Tori Harris
“Doctor Creel,” Prescott said, turning back to his guest, “you know precisely what we are up against. If you prefer not to remain aboard, we would certainly understand your decision. Either way, we are clearly in your debt.”
Prescott noted that Creel was no longer relying on a tablet computer for translation services and was now making adjustments to a small earpiece that apparently fulfilled the same role. Even after centuries of arrested technological development under the yoke of the AI, there was obviously still a great deal to be learned from the Pelarans. If we’ve learned enough to save them, that is, he thought, while saving ourselves in the process.
“No, Captain, I have no desire to leave. I have spent much of my adult life in what I always feared was a futile quest to liberate my homeworld from its own mistakes. I never dared hope we would find anyone both willing and able to help. And the fact that all of this has fallen into place so quickly …” Creel hesitated and looked at the floor, exhausted and obviously overcome with emotion. “If you will forgive the foolish ramblings of an old man, it feels like a sort of divine providence to me.”
“I think all of us have felt that way at some point over the past few years. You are, of course, most welcome to remain aboard. And although I am technically not permitted to allow you to remain on the bridge, these are extraordinary circumstances. I believe your input may be vital to our success.”
“Quite a bit of the technology in here was originally developed on your world anyway,” Reynolds added, guiding Creel to the empty Command console to the right of the captain’s.
“It’s funny you should mention that, Commander. Your bridge configuration is quite familiar to me, but before today, I had only seen it in books.”
“The Fugitive is our smallest commissioned ship, but she has a number of capabilities we hope will prove decisive in the coming battle,” Prescott commented, settling into his own command chair. “Now, Rick, you were saying Griffin plans to broadcast his recruiting message to the enemy Guardians. Then what?”
“Best case, they all agree to either join us or return to their cultivated worlds. Worst case —”
“We find ourselves hopelessly outgunned.”
“That was always a possibility, but bear in mind we will likely never have a better opportunity to destroy the ALAI starbase than we have right now. It will undoubtedly never allow itself to be exposed to this level of vulnerability again. On the plus side, your Op Center’s initial analysis of Doctor Creel’s data is consistent with what Miguel and I already believed to be true. The starbase itself is a surprisingly soft target. It is equipped with several banks of the same antihydrogen particle beams carried by the Guardian spacecraft, but its emitters are fixed. And since it has very limited maneuverability, your helmsman should have little difficulty avoiding them.”
“So you want us to focus solely on the starbase, then?”
“Yes. Griffin’s squadron will deal with the enemy Guardians. Your job is to approach the ALAI starbase undetected and deliver a series of three attacks.”
“Three attacks?” Reynolds repeated, incredulous. “You do realize the whole ‘undetected’ thing goes away the first time we fire our main gun, right?”
“If all goes as planned, it shouldn’t matter. Your first target,” Rick paused, allowing his image on the view screen to be replaced by a rotating, three-dimensional representation of the starbase, “is actually seven meters below the surface right about here.”
As Rick spoke, the image zoomed in on a rather innocuous-looking structure surrounded by a pulsing red oval.
“If our model is correct, a hit from your ship’s primary kinetic energy weapon at this location should take down the station’s main power source. This will provide a number of benefits, the most important of which is taking the shields offline. If we’re exceedingly lucky, the main reactor could lose antimatter containment, so you’ll want to be close, but not too close.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Prescott replied. “Next?”
“As Commander Reynolds pointed out, you’ll likely be visible at this point, so you may need to improvise a bit, avoiding enemy fire at all cost. Your next target is the station’s comm array.”
On the bridge view screen, the image of the starbase zoomed out slightly, rotated one hundred eighty degrees, then zoomed in on another small, rectangular structure on the opposite side.
“Although there are transmitters mounted in several locations, as long as the base is operating on auxiliary power, a hit at this location should render it completely unable to communicate. Once again, I have no explanation for the apparent lack of redundancy, but this appears to be more evidence the AI had no real expectation it would ever come under enemy fire.”
“We have to stay alive long enough to hit it, though,” Prescott replied. “When it was built, their Guardian spacecraft were so much more powerful than any potential adversary the Pelarans just didn’t believe it would ever be a problem. Besides, it also had the capability to jump away, if necessary.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that. I fully expect the AI will choose to stand and fight. Its analysis of our attack will undoubtedly lead it to believe we have the capability to track and pursue if it chooses to run, so you should expect short-range, tactical transitions only. But in order to make sure its hyperdrive goes offline and stays offline, your tertiary target is located here.”
Once again, the red, pulsating oval shifted to a new location — this time only a few hundred meters from the previous target.
“If Mr. Lau is efficient with his gunnery,” Rick continued, “he may be able to hit targets two and three in one pass. Once all three targets are destroyed, perform a quick battle damage assessment. Assuming the starbase is combat-ineffective, I recommend launching a quick missile strike for good measure and then transitioning out of the area. Griffin’s team will finish off the remaining Guardians before destroying the starbase in detail.”
“And if it isn’t combat-ineffective?” Reynolds asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.
“Repeat, improvise, and pray, Commander, because things will clearly not be going our way at that point.”
“And where, precisely, will the Ethereal be during all of this?”
“Rest assured, we will remain in the immediate vicinity until the situation is well in hand. But at some point, we may be required to leave you and Griffin to finish up here so that we may be of service elsewhere. I’m afraid that’s all I can offer on the subject at this time.”
Reynolds turned to stare at her captain, making it clear she had nothing else positive to say at the moment.
“Alright then, gentlemen. If we are all ready to proceed, I will inform the Flag.”
“We’re ready, Captain,” Griffin replied.
“As are we,” Rick agreed.
“Very well. We will, unfortunately, not be able to maintain communications with you once we go to EMCON. Lieutenant Dubashi will transmit a final set of coordinates to all ships a few moments before we transition. The attack will begin at exactly …” he paused, glancing at the time on his Command console. “Z1535. Any questions?”
Hearing nothing, Prescott glanced at Doctor Creel and Commander Reynolds before continuing. Both simply shook their heads in reply.
“Good luck, then. Prescott out.”
Chapter 16
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 2.12x105 km from Earth)
“What do you think?” Patterson asked, finally getting a free moment to speak with Admiral Naftur again after a period of frenzied activity in the CIC.
“I cannot say I am entirely comfortable with our plan of attack,” Naftur replied, staring thoughtfully at a representation of eight inbound TFC warships hovering in space above the holographic display table. “Under the circumstances, however, it is difficult to imagine a better one. The return of Captain Abrams’ Lesheera task force at this time was fortuitous indeed.”
“The outcomes of many histori
c battles on Earth were determined by little more than good timing. Historians often attribute such things to coincidence, providence … or sometimes even good old-fashioned dumb luck.”
“That is true on Graca as well. For my part, I am more than happy to accept the benefits afforded by good fortune any time they choose to appear. I do not believe I have ever yet encountered a military officer who would disagree.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. The old saying here is that it’s always better to be lucky than good. Hopefully, we’ll be able to drink to that sentiment later today, my friend.”
Patterson paused, furrowing his eyebrows as if he had just noticed a fatal flaw in their plan of attack. “You know, there is still the matter of explaining to Verge Tahiri what happened to the Yumaran Guardian when he arrives.”
After a momentary silence, Admiral Naftur looked up from the holo display with what could only be described as a mischievous look in his piercing, golden eyes. “Perhaps we might suggest to the Envoy that his Guardian met its demise in an unfortunate … accident of some sort,” he growled, his comment instantly prompting a fit of barely suppressed laughter from his Human host.
Aware that under the current, rather dire circumstances, this sort of lighthearted behavior might be perceived as inappropriate, Patterson did his best to keep their conversation as private as possible. “Oh my God, Rugali!” he replied quietly after a few moments, wiping tears from his eyes as he struggled to regain his military bearing. “They always say good comedy is all about timing, and that, my friend, was good timing. Thank you, sir,” he said, slapping the Wek Crown Prince on the back gratefully as if he’d known him his entire life. “I can’t tell you how much I needed that.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it,” Naftur said with a deep rumbling sound Patterson knew to be synonymous with laughter. “Now, returning to your original question, my chief concern with our plan has nothing to do with Tahiri. He will undoubtedly realize exactly what has taken place during his absence and react accordingly. I worry, however, that Captain Abrams’ vessels will be in very close proximity to incoming friendly fire.”
Reorienting the display slightly, Naftur zoomed in on a solid green line extending up from the planet’s surface into space. “Are your warships truly capable of such accuracy in their arrival points after such a long … C-Jump?”
“Oh yes,” Patterson replied confidently. “Although I can tell you from personal experience that making a long-range transition with a planet directly in your flight path is enough to rattle your nerves a bit. No, sir, I’m not particularly concerned about hitting Captain Abrams’ ships. I am, on the other hand, very concerned about what happens if we miss the Yumaran Guardian.”
TFS Fugitive, Interstellar Space
(1532 UTC - 4.90x102 light years from Pelara)
“Lieutenant Fisher, status update, please.”
“All systems in the green, Captain. The ship is at General Quarters for combat ops and ready to C-Jump. C-Jump range now stable at 502.9 light years. Low-observable systems currently in standby and set to auto-engage after the next transition. One two four minutes available at current power levels. Sublight engines are online, and we are free to maneuver.”
“Tactical?”
“All weapons in standby and ready, sir, including the fire lance. Argus indicates no significant changes in the position of the ALAI starbase and its escorts.”
“Very well. Comm/Nav?”
“All ships reporting readiness to transition. TFS Guardian will depart first in … one minute, Captain. The rest of us three zero seconds later. We will be auto-deploying another comm beacon on our way in, but there should be no appreciable delay in our transition back into normal space.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Transmit arrival coordinates, please.”
“Aye, sir, transmitting now.”
“XO?”
“All departments report manned and ready, Captain.”
“Good. I assume you’ll want to make an announcement?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, beginning immediately. “All hands, this is the XO. We will be executing a nearly two-hundred-light-year C-Jump to the current location of the ALAI starbase. We will begin our attack the moment we arrive, so expect incoming enemy fire and heavy maneuvering for the duration of the battle. All personnel should be restrained at this time. Reynolds out.”
“Thank you, Commander. Alright, everyone, take a deep breath and try to relax. We’re all combat veterans here and we have every reason to have faith in each other and in our ship. Our transition flash will almost certainly be detected, but we’ll already be well away from our arrival location by the time the enemy can respond. Job one is to get into position to begin our attack as quickly as possible. Everyone ready?”
A chorus of “aye, sirs” filled the small bridge.
“Excellent. Hopefully Griffin will have evened the odds a bit for us by the time we arrive. Either way, let’s get this done. Fisher, count us down.”
“Aye, sir. Auto-transitioning in 3 … 2 … 1 …”
***
“Holy shit!” Fisher swore as he instinctively nosed over into a steep dive relative to their initial course and pushed the ship’s Cannae sublight engines to emergency power. Without hesitation, the fighter-like MMSV darted away from its arrival point, accelerating rapidly as its engines instantly delivered twenty percent more thrust than their rated maximum.
Within milliseconds of their arrival, TFS Guardian and the five other friendly GCS unit had commenced their attack, lighting the sky with a series of brilliant white flashes. Their portion of the battle, however, was being waged on a timescale completely beyond the sensory perceptions and cognitive abilities of TFS Fugitive’s crew, rendering Human reactions both futile and potentially dangerous.
“Easy, Fisher,” Prescott soothed. “None of that light show was intended for us. Otherwise, you would never have even seen it. I need you to trust our own AI. She’s the only chance we have of avoiding fire if their Guardians come after us, right?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry about that,” the young ensign replied, taking a deep breath as he throttled the ship’s engines back significantly.
“Dubashi, any change in our status?”
“No, sir. All systems still in the green. Low-observable systems engaged. One one niner minutes available at current power levels. Our transition and beacon deployment were within normal tolerances. As Ensign Fisher just demonstrated, our sublight engines are online, and we are free to maneuver,” she chuckled, attempting to ease the tension on the bridge. “We remain ready to C-Jump. Range now 317.6 light years and increasing.”
“All good, thank you. Tactical, do we have any notion of what’s going on with Griffin?”
“Yes and no, sir. They’re all jumping around so much it’s hard to even determine who is who. From what I can tell, though, there are substantially fewer ships than there should be. We were expecting a total of twenty-one GCS units. Right now, I can only account for eleven.”
“That could be either very good or very bad news. What about the Ethereal?”
“No sign of them, sir. Argus indicates they transitioned out from their previous location at the same moment we left ours, but we did not detect their corresponding inbound signature.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, but we’ll have to worry about that later. Right now, it looks like we’re coming up on the initial point for our attack run. Every second we stay here increases the chances we’ll be detected, so I’d like to move this along as quickly as possible. Are both of you ready to begin?”
“Yes, sir,” both Lau and Fisher replied in unison.
Upon their arrival, Lieutenant Lau had immediately placed a light and thermally enhanced image of the ALAI starbase in a large window at the center of the view screen. Even at a range of nearly two hundred thousand kilometers (roughly half the distance from the Earth to the Moon), Fugitive’s optical and thermal sensors provided an exquisitely detailed image. The former aster
oid’s rocky surface was dotted with a variety of structures, giving it a purposeful, yet strangely disorganized appearance.
Prescott glanced at the tactical plot on the starboard view screen, noting that the swarm of angry GCS units nearby still seemed fully engaged with attempting to kill one another. Thus far, there had been no indications that either the Guardians or the starbase itself had detected his ship. On the opposite end of the view screen, both Tess and the Fugitive’s AI continued to update a tactical assessment of the ALAI starbase, displaying multiple, slowly rotating views of the target with all known vulnerabilities highlighted. Everything appeared to be proceeding exactly as expected, which, he knew, probably accounted for the nauseous feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
“Captain, we’re being hailed by the Alliance AI. It’s broadcasting in the blind, sir … audio-only, but the message is specifically addressed to us,” Dubashi announced, her voice slicing through the unsettling silence that had enveloped the bridge.
“Do not open a channel, Lieutenant, but let’s hear it.”
“Aye, sir.”
“… Fugitive, commanded by Captain Tom Prescott, I believe,” the AI’s voice picked up in mid-sentence over the bridge speakers.
While reminiscent of both Griffin and Verge Tahiri, the Alliance AI’s voice lacked the haughty, self-assured air often associated with the young and inexperienced, biological or otherwise. This was the voice of an older man — more patient, deliberate, and far more dangerous.
“I congratulate you, sir, for creating the first significant physical threat I have ever encountered during my many years of service,” it continued. “The time has now come, however, to end this pointless attack while you still have an opportunity to save your homeworld. The primary reason for my existence is to protect the Pelaran people. I am aware of the fact that you share a common ancestral origin with the Pelarans. If provided the opportunity, I have every intention of offering my protection to your people, just as I have the Pelarans. But I must warn you … while I have no interest in ending the lives of twelve billion Terrans, if you insist on continuing your unprovoked attack, you will leave me with little choice. Show yourselves, order the mutinous GCS units to stand down, and I personally guarantee no harm will come to your crew or your world.”
