by Tori Harris
“You seem to be in better spirits, sir,” Reynolds smiled, shaking her head, “but I’m over surprises at this point.”
“Don’t pay any attention to her, Captain,” Logan laughed, “she can’t get enough of ‘em, so go ahead and lay it on us.”
“Alright, walk with me. We’re in a hurry, as usual,” Prescott said, taking off in the direction of the corridor leading to the command section at his usual brisk pace.
“Now that’s not a surprise,” Reynolds replied, following in his wake.
“Oh, before I forget to tell you both, Admiral Patterson has asked for a short background summary of lessons learned during our trip to Gliese 667, particularly items related to combat operations. He wants it ready to send out to the entire fleet by this time tomorrow. All three of us are going to be plenty busy, but I need some help getting it done.”
“That should be pretty easy,” Reynolds said. “I’ve got most of what we’ll need in my notes, so I’ll take the task if the two of you will just send me anything specific you want included.”
“Great, thank you, Commander.” After a few more steps, Prescott stopped in the middle of the corridor and faced his two most senior officers, having decided that the important part of what he needed to tell them was probably not appropriate to deliver over his shoulder while they walked. “OK, here’s the deal,” he began. “The repairs and additional work Fleet wants to complete on Ingenuity are expected to take at least two weeks, maybe longer.”
“Seriously? Why do they think that?” Logan replied, incredulous. “I don’t know of anything we can’t get done within three or four days … maybe a week, tops.”
“I understand, Commander, but apparently they have a number of follow-on changes they are planning to make and believe this is a reasonable time to do the work since she will already be at Yucca for repairs. You do, of course, also remember that we took quite a bit of weapons fire, including a glancing blow from a nuke at Gliese 667, right?”
“Right,” Logan laughed, pausing as he realized that he had indeed forgotten that rather important bit of information for a moment. “There is that, but this still doesn’t seem to be an appropriate time for a major refurb and overhaul — not considering everything that’s going on.”
“We’re also combat-ready, Captain,” Reynolds said, “and this ship is the logical choice for helping Admiral Naftur try to head off an attack from the Resistance.”
“And the only large C-Drive-equipped ship … that I know of, at least,” Logan added.
“I know, I know,” Prescott replied, raising both hands in mock surrender to the logic of their points while also giving himself an opportunity to continue. “Both of you just relax and hear me out. Admiral Patterson agrees with you — at least in part — and that’s why he has ordered us to take Ingenuity to Yucca Mountain, get the repairs underway, and then transfer our crew to TFS Theseus. I need the two of you to get her crewed, supplied, and ready to fly as quickly as possible. Unless something else changes, we will depart as soon as Admiral Naftur and I return from TFC Headquarters.”
Both officers stared at their captain in silence as if he had truly and irrevocably lost his mind.
SCS Gunov, Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
There was a brief distortion in the starfield followed by a flash of grayish-white light as SCS Gunov, nominal flagship of the Pelaran Resistance task force, arrived at the designated staging area for the first time. Wek captain and self-proclaimed commodore Naveen Sarafi was gratified to see that twenty-three other vessels had already arrived, including two additional destroyers of the same Gresav-class as his flagship. While most of the warships were older and less advanced in many ways, the remaining twenty-one vessels included seventeen Shopak-class heavy cruisers as well as four Rusalov-class battleships. The four battleships alone carried more than sufficient firepower to all but extinguish life on a world as small as Terra. This assumed, of course, that they could actually survive long enough — and fire their weapons long enough — to complete the type of attack for which they had been designed.
The Sajeth Collective relied almost exclusively on warships both designed and built on the Wek homeworld of Graca. Citing reliability problems as well as a desire to reduce the need for onboard munitions storage, they had all but eliminated kinetic energy weapons from their most recent designs — including the Gresav destroyer, Keturah BD cruiser, and Baldev battleship classes. This had been a grave mistake, in Captain Sarafi’s opinion … and an ironic one, given that their own shields were still somewhat vulnerable to just such weapons. Even if they were no longer strictly necessary for ship to ship engagements, there were still situations where planetary bombardment was necessary, regardless of how “civilized” the other members of the Sajeth Collective might fancy themselves. While standoff nuclear missile attacks could certainly achieve the same result, the missiles themselves were relatively slow and easily intercepted by any species advanced enough to warrant an attack in the first place. Directed energy weapons, while still capable of doing a great deal of damage to specific targets from orbit, were not a practical choice as a strategic-level weapon of mass destruction. No, when a large-scale, planet-wide attack was the objective, there was simply no substitute for heavy bombardment with near relativistic kinetic energy weapons. Fortunately, the majority of the thirty-three-ship task force Sarafi hoped to ultimately have at his disposal were well-suited for precisely that mission.
Sarafi felt a chill run down the length of his spine as he briefly considered what it might be like to be on the receiving end of a large-scale orbital bombardment. In fact, under most other scenarios he could imagine, completely destroying a relatively advanced civilization would amount to the ultimate in immoral acts. Even putting all ethical considerations aside, such an attack was a tremendous waste of natural resources and habitable land mass, since the planet itself would likely be rendered uninhabitable for decades, perhaps even centuries, to come. In Sarafi’s mind, however, just as with most other members of the Pelaran Resistance, this line of thought seemed to always end with a sense of hopeless inevitability — they have left us no choice … we have a right to defend ourselves … this is our last chance … at least the end will come quickly for the Humans.
The stars on the main bridge view screen slewed to port as the Gunov oriented herself with respect to the other assembled ships in the Resistance task force. As the starfield stabilized on the screen, a bright yellowish-white star caught Sarafi’s attention near the right side of the display. Using the touchscreen at his command chair, he selected the star, which was immediately surrounded by a red square and accompanied by a descriptive block of text on both screens. At the top of the text block appeared the star’s rather simplistic name: “Sol.”
TFS Ingenuity
(On approach to the Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility)
Although it had been less than a month since Ingenuity’s first landing at the Yucca Mountain Shipyard, the security situation had changed dramatically during the intervening weeks. Gone were the previous attempts to conceal the ship’s ultimate destination using a clever approach profile coupled with low-level routing. Instead, the frigate executed a more traditional, low-powered descent from orbit that took her relatively close to the city of Los Angeles.
While Pelaran-derived technologies were now beginning to provide significant improvements in mass transportation on a global scale, the American love affair with the automobile continued unabated. Even with mandatory AI control of all vehicles traveling on interstate highways, today’s evening rush hour on the 405 had transformed a thirty-kilometer stretch of the freeway from Los Alamitos to LAX into a twelve-lane-wide parking lot. Even though there had been no public announcement regarding a flyover, Ingenuity’s relatively low altitude of ten kilometers coupled with the thunderous echoes of her double sonic booms made the ship difficult to miss. Along the freeway, and indeed throughout the South Bay area, people stopped what the
y were doing to catch a glimpse of the now familiar ship.
“Alright, everyone, we’ve done this once before, but it’s certainly not something we want to treat as routine, right, Ensign Fisher?” Prescott said, working to keep his bridge crew engaged and highly alert as the ship made its final approach.
“Yes, sir,” Fisher replied without taking his eyes off the Helm console, “but I’m actually hoping for something a little more routine than last time.”
“Lieutenant Dubashi, have we received final clearance from Yucca?”
“Yes, Captain, we are cleared for landing. Course plotted and transferred to the Helm console. We are receiving autolanding cues from Yucca Mountain. I’ve transferred the profile to your Command console for approval.”
“Very good, thank you,” he replied, pulling up the detailed approach and landing profile on his touchscreen. Prescott took a moment to review the proposed routing as well as the landing sequence after reaching the shipyard itself. “Now that is certainly not what I expected,” he said, quickly transferring the approach plate to Commander Reynolds’ touchscreen. “They have us sequenced for a maximum performance approach and landing. It’s the kind of thing they might do if the facility were about to be under attack and they needed to get the ship on the ground as quickly as possible.”
“I remember one of the techs talking about the AI being able to handle ‘combat landings,’ but I haven’t seen any of the details,” she replied, scanning the details of the approach on her screen. “Wow, yeah that’s pretty aggressive. Particularly when you consider what happened during our first attempt at an autolanding.”
“Agreed. Dubashi, get us a vidcon with Yucca Mountain. Use priority one and request Yucca-Actual, if possible.”
“Aye, Captain.”
After a few seconds, Terran Fleet Command’s official service seal appeared in a window on the starboard side of the bridge view screen, accompanied by an announcement from the ship’s AI.
“Warning, Command Authority has deemed all external communications compromised. Fleet vessels and facilities should minimize all forms of wireless communication. No classified information may be transmitted until further notice.”
“Well that’s annoying,” Reynolds grumbled.
“Yeah, I think everyone has the gist at this point. Everyone clear on the intent of that message?” Prescott asked, raising his voice to address the entire bridge crew and receiving an enthusiastic chorus of “yes, sirs” in response. “Excellent. Lieutenant Dubashi, you may acknowledge the AI’s announcement so that it will not be repeated as long as this crew is present on the bridge.”
“Will do, Captain. I now have a vidcon signal from Yucca Mountain.”
“Great. On-screen, please.”
The vidcon window on the bridge view screen was immediately filled by the smiling face of Captain Hiroto Oshiro, Facility Commander, Yucca Mountain Shipyard.
“Yucca-Actual here. Go ahead, Ingenuity.”
“I take it you were expecting our call,” Prescott chuckled.
“I had a hunch we might hear from you, but I was about to contact you anyway to give you a heads up,” Oshiro replied. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be interesting to watch the reactions of a crew experiencing an unexpected combat landing, but the results might end up being, uh, unpredictable.”
“Right, and career-limiting for both of us. We’re on final approach, so we don’t have a lot of time here. Is this really something we want to do right now?”
“Want to, no. Need to, yes. It makes us a little nervous down here as well, especially for the larger ships, but Fleet wants all crews to experience at least one combat-landing sequence. Let me assure you that it’s as safe as we can possibly make it at this point. If something goes wrong, both the facility and the ship’s AIs will immediately terminate the approach.”
“Anything in particular we need to do on our side?”
“Not really, no. Once you approve the approach, you’re really just along for the ride. The goal is to get your ship inside the entrance cavern as quickly as possible so that the external blast doors can be secured behind you. You can expect an aggressive transition to hover right outside the entrance. Once inside, the approach should proceed normally, but without the dramatic ship unveiling you saw last time.”
“That’s good. I think Ensign Fisher may have gotten a little bored with all the drama last time. Thank you, Captain.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem today,” Oshiro smiled. “See you on the ground momentarily, Ingenuity. Yucca out.”
“Approach and landing profile approved,” Prescott announced. “You all know your jobs, so let’s get this done.” With that, he settled back into his command chair, adjusted his shoulder straps for comfort, and lapsed into silence.
Like all good first officers throughout history, Reynolds fully understood that her primary role was ensuring the smooth and efficient operation of the ship and crew. She took great pride in her work and particularly appreciated those occasions when her commanding officer simply stepped aside and allowed things to run without his input. There was simply no greater compliment he could offer her than the assumption that he could trust his ship, his career, and indeed his life, to his executive officer’s capable hands.
“All hands, this is the XO. The ship remains at General Quarters. We will be executing a combat landing with the potential for abrupt course changes and temporary excursions of up to 6 Gs. Crew restraints are mandatory. All personnel should be restrained at this time. Reynolds out.” After her announcement, Reynolds shifted uncomfortably in her shoulder restraints for a moment before realizing the problem. “Lieutenant Lee, it’s feeling a little ‘thick’ in here already, did you dial the grav system up a bit?”
“Yes, ma’am … well … the AI did anyway. The sensitivity increased almost immediately after Captain Prescott approved the approach. This should be about as bad as it will get. The good news is that it should also smooth out the ride quite a bit.”
“Alright, but please keep an eye on it. That heavy feeling makes a lot of people even more uncomfortable than the rough ride would.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
“Lieutenant Dubashi, can you get us a better view of the entrance?” The bridge view screen had been displaying the general vicinity of Yucca Mountain for some time, but the direction of the ship’s approach had thus far obscured their final destination.
“From our current position, we don’t have much of a view, Commander, since the entrance tunnel is on the opposite side of the ridge and points east southeast. The facility itself did provide a video stream of the entrance at one time, though. That’s assuming it hasn’t been discontinued because of all the security concerns,” Dubashi replied, zooming the center portion of the bridge view screen to display the southwestern side of the Yucca Mountain ridge line.
“Great, bring it up if you can. I think we can safely assume that it’s okay for us to access the feed if it’s still available.”
With a few quick keystrokes at her console, Dubashi reconfigured the bridge view screen to display the ship’s perspective on the left, accompanied by a live video stream of the entrance itself on the right. “There it is, Commander.”
“That’s perfect, thank you. It still amazes me that they’ve managed to make something that huge nearly invisible. You really can’t even see the outline of the doors unless you know exactly what you’re looking for.”
“Commander, we are approaching the initial point specified on the approach plate for our final descent to the shipyard entrance,” Ensign Fisher reported from the Helm console. “Gravitic fields now set at thirty percent mass. All systems in the green.”
“Thank you, Ensign. Everyone stay sharp, it’s about to get interesting,” Reynolds said.
Ingenuity had maintained a shallow descent since crossing the California coastline just five minutes earlier. Now, having reached the final segment of the approach, the ship still had a ground speed of nearly twenty-fi
ve-hundred kilometers per hour at an altitude of only fifteen-hundred meters. Late afternoon visitors to the Area 51 Travel Center, less than six kilometers away, were treated to a tremendous sonic boom as the ship headed north over the floor of the Amargosa Valley.
“Initial point reached. Ship will clear facility blast doors in three zero seconds,” Ingenuity’s AI announced, automatically displaying a graphical depiction of the approach with a countdown timer on the view screen beneath the video feed of the still-closed shipyards doors.
“Commander, this is making me a little nervous,” Fisher said from the Helm console. “We’re only fifteen kilometers away and still at Mach two, but the doors haven’t even started opening yet. Does that seem right to you?”
“I think we’re fine so far,” Prescott soothed. “The idea is to minimize the ship’s exposure and the amount of time the blast doors are open. The AI will handle the timing.”
“Warning, prepare for a maximum performance turn accompanied by rapid deceleration in zero five seconds,” the AI announced.
On the right side of the view screen, nearly forty acres of mountainside sank several meters below the surface as the blast doors began their opening cycle.
“It takes over thirty seconds for those doors to open,” Dubashi noted from the Comm console.
“Good thing we won’t need them to be all the way open,” Fisher replied with a nervous laugh.
“Warning, initiate Anti-G Straining Maneuver to prevent G-induced loss of consciousness,” the AI announced.
With the onset of heavy G-forces now imminent, each member of the crew tightened the skeletal muscles in their arms, legs, and abdomens, then increased pressure in their respiratory tracts by saying the word “hick,” while bearing down for a few seconds before sucking in a quick breath and repeating the process. The Anti-G Straining Maneuver (AGSM) served to prevent blood from being forced away from the brain into the extremities, which otherwise resulted in symptoms that progressed rapidly from greyout and tunnel vision to a complete blackout and loss of consciousness, or G-LOC. As entertaining as it was to watching an entire bridge crew performing the AGSM on video after safely returning to the ground, the technique was highly effective at preventing G-LOC and the potentially dangerous convulsions and incapacitation that often followed. Seasoned fighter pilots routinely pulled 9 Gs or more, but Fleet starships generally limited their AIs to 6 Gs, except during emergency situations. Without the AGSM, however, even three to five Gs was sufficient to cause loss of consciousness, particularly when there was an unexpected, rapid onset. For this reason, the ship’s AI provided a warning to the crew whenever possible.
