by Tori Harris
With NRD-equipped surveillance drones and comm beacons now being deployed in ever-increasing numbers throughout the solar system, communications and reconnaissance coverage was steadily improving. At this point, practically any location inside the Kuiper belt, beginning just over four light hours from Sol, enjoyed something approaching real-time communications. Unfortunately, anything farther out was still plagued by the ever-present limitation imposed by the speed of light. The Oort Cloud, for example, stretched from 139 light hours out to approximately 1.6 light years from Sol — well over a third of the distance to Proxima Centauri. Even though still very much in the local stellar neighborhood, there was currently no practical way to communicate with vessels at such distances … short of deploying more beacons or sending another ship out to act as a relay. So it was that the mission profiles of each Hunter formation called for a C-Jump back to the nearest NRD network node after visiting each reconnaissance location. This resulted in a progress report being sent back to the Jutland roughly once every ten and a half hours.
With its latest survey completed, “Nail 42” flight transitioned into normal space with two simultaneous flashes of light. Right on schedule, the two spacecraft established an NRD net connection using a nearby hyperspace comm beacon and immediately set about transmitting their latest reconnaissance data. It took the pair less than a minute to complete their data upload and then make the necessary preparations for the C-Jump to their next destination.
Although a remarkable feat of engineering, the current version of the Hunter’s miniaturized C-Drive was based on the model used in Fleet’s newest generation of anti-ship missiles. Intended to deliver a missile’s deadly payload to the immediate vicinity of its target in a single, instantaneous bound, the capability to execute multiple, consecutive hyperspace transitions was not envisioned as a part of the drive’s original design requirements. As was the case with the much larger version of the C-Drive recently tested aboard TFS Ingenuity, the challenge was primarily one of power generation and handling. Accordingly, the Hunter’s onboard reactor had been upgraded and a small capacitor bank added to allow for relatively short C-Jumps of up to twenty-five light years. Unfortunately, even for shorter range jumps, the miniaturized version of the drive still required a brief “dwell time” before executing its next transition … meaning that an instantaneous “emergency C-Jump” was simply not possible. The delay was primarily a function of how much power was consumed during the previous and subsequent jumps. In a worst case scenario, for example, when two, twenty-five-light-year jumps were executed one after the other, a delay of approximately thirty minutes was required between transitions.
Fortunately, the current reconnaissance mission in the immediate vicinity of the Sol system called for relatively short-range C-Jumps, each requiring only minimal dwell time before the Hunters were ready for their next transition. Now, with the data describing their thus far fruitless search transmitted back to the Jutland, the RPSVs banked gracefully in the direction of their next destination, accelerating rapidly before engaging their C-Drives and disappearing from normal space in two brief flashes of light.
SCS Gunov, Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
The ships of the Pelaran Resistance task force were not expecting an engagement with hostile forces at the location of their rally point. In fact, Sajeth Collective scouting vessels had been visiting the general area for several years without interference from the Guardian spacecraft. It was these missions that had ultimately produced a model of the Pelaran vessel’s data transmission activities, finally resolving its movements into something approaching a predictable pattern. So far at least, it did not appear that the Guardian considered the presence of vessels beyond the Sol system’s outermost planets to be much of a threat, if indeed it was even capable of detecting them at all. Based on the recent destruction of Admiral Naftur’s task force, however, it did now seem probable that the Pelarans had at least some capability of both detecting and tracking ships traveling extended distances in hyperspace.
Expectations aside, Commodore Sarafi had not survived nearly two hundred years of military service by ignoring the tenets of force protection. His squadron was now comprised of twenty-eight warships, and the recent addition of four Keturah-class battlespace defense (BD) cruisers had been welcome indeed. The cruisers’ primary role was to rapidly detect and engage enemy ships, preferably before they had the opportunity to mount an effective attack. Accordingly, all four had begun the process of deploying the latest in perimeter surveillance drones immediately after their arrival.
Sarafi smiled at the irony implicit in this, the first operational deployment of a Sajeth Collective weapon system based in part on Pelaran technology. With other cultivated species engaged in open warfare across neighboring regions of the galaxy, Pelaran-derived technologies were beginning to make their appearance within the military forces of other civilizations. Even though cultivated species did tend to enjoy overwhelming military superiority over their rivals, their ships were still captured or destroyed on occasion … resulting in a slow but steady “leak” of Pelaran technology. In addition, cultivated civilizations were always prime targets for espionage, regardless of whether your particular world considered them friend or foe. Once obtained by another species, the tech was quickly reverse-engineered and then either sold or integrated into new weapon systems within a surprisingly short period of time.
“Defensive perimeter established, Commodore,” Sarafi’s communications officer reported. “We’re still showing a few gaps, but should have full coverage within the hour.”
“And we have established real-time detection capabilities within the perimeter?”
“Yes, sir. The detection zone extends just over one light hour in every direction. Once the screen is fully established, we can expect to receive a warning of any enemy activity inside the zone.”
“With this configuration, how much warning will it provide?” Sarafi asked, arching his bushy eyebrows at the young comm officer.
“Worst case, we should get an alert in just under ten minutes. That number improves if the activity occurs closer to one of the drones, of course.”
“Very good, thank you.” It was certainly true that the new system provided a significant improvement over traditional defensive measures, such as the deployment of picket ships or RPSVs to create a defensive perimeter. The best a picket ship could do was transmit a warning back to the squadron at the speed of light, leaving a commander with the difficult choice of either a long comm delay or a small defensive perimeter. Instead, after arriving at their assigned surveillance location, the new drones deployed their own hyperspace communications beacon, enabling instantaneous, real-time data transfer with the distant BD cruisers.
If nothing else, Admiral Naftur’s foolhardy incursion into the Sol system had at least provided some insight regarding the Guardian’s preferred offensive tactics. Sarafi suspected that a reconnaissance probe had been used to obtain a passive “snapshot” of Naftur’s forces shortly after they had arrived in system. With the squadron not expecting an immediate attack after an extended voyage in hyperspace, they would have all been following a predictable course with a predictable speed. This had, of course, made things incredibly easy for the Guardian, which was then able to anticipate each vessel’s exact position in space and open fire before there was any possibility of detection. While not a pessimistic man by nature, Commodore Sarafi still doubted that his new perimeter surveillance drones would fare much better against the Guardian’s tactics. He was also painfully aware that he had little defense against the Pelaran’s vastly superior weapons. Based on all of the data gathered to date, however, he did believe that he could count on the Guardian spacecraft to behave in a manner at least somewhat consistent with their computer model. He, therefore, pinned his hopes on avoiding detection, if possible, and making things as difficult as possible for his adversary. Even the simple act of keeping his ships in continuous, rando
m motion might be sufficient to delay their destruction long enough to allow most of them to escape — hopefully in sufficient numbers to execute a successful attack on Terra.
“Contact!” a young Wek Lieutenant called from the Gunov’s Tactical station. “Two small ships — they’re right on top of us, sir — only about ten light seconds out.”
“Origin?” Sarafi snapped impatiently.
“I’m not sure where it came up with the data to make its identification, but the fire control AI has classified them as Terran scout vessels … stand by … the Hadeon is firing!”
At the time the Terran vessels transitioned from hyperspace, Hadeon was the closest of the four battlespace defense cruisers. Fortunately, protecting Sajeth Collective forces from a surprise attack was precisely the role for which she had been designed. Well before Commodore Sarafi had even been made aware of their presence, Hadeon’s AI had already determined the enemy ships’ origin and type. This led to their immediately being designated as hostile targets, which authorized the BD system to open fire without further authorization per the task force’s standing rules of engagement. Although it would take the cruiser’s active sensors over twenty seconds to begin processing detailed performance estimates for the two targets — an eternity in such an engagement — real-time remote surveillance drone data provided the AI with more than enough information to begin its attack. Shortly after the cruiser’s first salvos began streaming downrange towards the two Hunters, drone data was supplemented with that provided by the “new light” gathered by the cruiser’s passive sensors. The AI also had access to performance data obtained from a highly classified source. All of these data points were quickly consolidated to produce a probability-based model describing the targets as if their designers had handed over a set of detailed specifications. Hadeon’s fire control AI now had everything it needed to begin placing its energy weapons fire at the most likely locations to intersect the flight paths of the Terran vessels.
“She’s adjusting her fire, sir,” the lieutenant reported, now using a much more disciplined tone.
Hadeon’s position on the periphery of the assembled Resistance ships had provided the cruiser with a clear field of fire in the direction of her prey. Within seconds, the entire side of the ship was once again lit with energy weapons fire as she worked methodically to destroy the Terran intruders.
Hunter Formation “Nail 42,” Near the Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
The two Hunter RPSVs’ onboard AIs concluded that they were in serious trouble immediately after completing their transition back into normal space at their latest reconnaissance location. In one of those chance occurrences that sometimes determined the fate of nations, or even entire worlds, the formation had arrived at a point so close to their quarry that they would most likely not be able to avoid detection and attack. The Hunters’ passive sensors detected the presence of twenty-eight enemy ships, several of which were of a configuration similar to other Sajeth Collective vessels already contained in their onboard database. At an estimated range of just under three million kilometers, it would take only ten seconds for their light to reach the Resistance task force, thus alerting them to the RPSVs’ presence. It was a virtual certainty that, perhaps as little as ten seconds later, enemy weapons fire would begin arriving at their current location. What the two Hunters’ onboard AI did not yet know was that they had transitioned in the immediate vicinity of an enemy surveillance drone, which dutifully began relaying information regarding their configuration and exact position back to the Resistance task force in real-time.
The Hunters gave brief consideration to mounting an attack on the Resistance task force. Although two HB-7c missiles had been removed from the “Nail 43” spacecraft prior to launch, fourteen of the C-Drive-equipped missiles hung ready to fire beneath their fuselages and stubby wings. The chief difficulty in going on the offensive at this point was the distance to their targets. The enemy formation, as seen from the RPSVs’ current position, appeared as they had been ten seconds earlier. The Resistance ships were already in motion when the two Hunters transitioned into the area, and looked as if they had been in the process of taking some sort of evasive action even before their arrival. This made for a poor firing solution for the RPSVs’ missiles, which required precise targeting information in order to make their C-Jump and then emerge from hyperspace immediately before impact. Even in the unlikely event that all fourteen missiles managed to find their targets, the probability of inflicting any sort of meaningful damage was calculated to be less than ten percent. Based on the mission objectives they had been assigned before launch, the AIs from both ships concluded that their best option was to flee the area in hopes of delivering their critical reconnaissance information back to Terran Fleet Command.
Their course of action decided, the Hunters engaged their sublight engines at maximum power, accelerating away from the Resistance task force and also taking some random evasive action of their own. Each RPSV calculated that their C-Drives would need just under two minutes to reach a point where an escape transition would be possible, so their immediate goal was to confound the enemy ships’ efforts to target them just long enough to make their C-Jump back to the nearest hyperspace comm beacon. After a few seconds, both of the Hunters broke formation simultaneously and began increasing the distance from its former “wingman” at varying rates in the hopes that at least one of them might survive.
Unexpectedly, from the AIs’ point of view, energy weapons fire from the Resistance task force began arriving at their location just twelve seconds after their arrival. Both ships recorded the fact that the enemy must have access to real-time surveillance of the region surrounding their rally point in order to respond so quickly to their presence. Each also noted impassively that their chances of survival had decreased dramatically as a result.
Ten light seconds aft, well beyond the practical range of most warships’ energy cannons, the battlespace defense cruiser Hadeon continued its massive barrage of energy weapons fire. Still relatively new to Sajeth Collective naval forces, the Keturah-class BD cruisers were equipped with heavy emitters capable of the increased power handling and beam coherence required for precisely this type of engagement. This, coupled with advanced fire control AI, placed the fleeing Hunter RPSVs still well within Hadeon’s lethality zone, particularly given that they were lightly armored vessels with no shields.
For the first several seconds, it appeared that the RPSVs’ evasive tactics might actually allow them to escape. Most of the incoming energy weapons fire passed well clear of their flight paths and initially gave the appearance of a randomized firing pattern sent in their general direction in the hope of scoring a chance hit. Over time, however, its accuracy steadily improved. Twenty seconds into the engagement, the fire control AI had gathered enough data to begin predicting how the Hunters would vary their flight paths in response to incoming fire. Just ten seconds later, Hadeon made her first kill. “Nail 43” took a glancing, off-axis hit that probably would not have been lethal under normal circumstances. Nevertheless, the energy bolt burned through the outer skin of one of the ship’s HB-7c missiles, causing a malfunction that detonated its compact antimatter warhead. The resulting matter/antimatter annihilation event was marked by the creation of extremely high-energy gamma photons and a brief but spectacular flash of visible light as the RPSV was completely obliterated.
“Nail 42” fared slightly better at first, surviving for almost a full minute before the cruiser’s ever-more-precise fire managed to coax the vessel into a predictable kill box. The beam that finally ended the Hunter’s attempted retreat struck the small ship squarely astern, quickly overloading its small reactor’s containment field and once again blotting it from space as if it had never existed.
As a matter of course, both Hunters had burst-transmitted their reconnaissance data in the direction of several of the nearest comm beacons, the last known positions of several TFC vessels, and towards
Earth itself for good measure. Those signals, containing the crucial data needed for Earth’s defense, now streamed away from the Resistance task force’s rally point at the speed of light. It would take nearly eleven hours before Terran Fleet Command noted that Hunter formation “Nail 42” had failed to transmit an update via NRD net at the appointed time — and just under three years and four months before any of the RPSVs’ signals arrived at their intended destinations.
Chapter 10
TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
(Simulated Fleet Operations Training Center)
Terran Fleet Command operated the three most advanced full-motion simulation facilities ever constructed, each of which being collocated with one of their three largest spacecraft construction facilities. Here, the age-old military axiom of “train like you fight” was applied in the purest form allowed by the current state of the art. Every critical section of each Fleet vessel could be modeled with near perfect fidelity, including simulated weapons impacts with actual gravitic field manipulation that could be downright dangerous for any crewmember failing to follow real-world procedures to the letter. Although the cavernous rooms dedicated to reproducing the ships’ engineering spaces were impressive in their own right, it was the arena-like bridge simulation facility that tended to garner the most attention. The “bridge sim” had already earned the reputation of delivering a terrifyingly realistic facsimile of combat operations aboard Fleet vessels — along with a humbling dose of reality for their sometimes-cocky crews.
For the past several weeks, the simulator had been dedicated exclusively to preparing Theseus-class destroyer crews for their first deployments. Since Ingenuity’s arrival, however, her crew’s urgent transition to Theseus had left little time for the other destroyer crews.
