by Tori Harris
By the time he managed to close the door and take a seat at the table in the small conference room, a chime, accompanied by a textual notification on the wall-mounted view screen, indicated that the commander of Jutland’s air wing, still generally referred to as the “CAG,” was standing by. “Open the channel please,” Patterson ordered, to which the AI responded with a slightly more urgent-sounding chime, followed immediately by the appearance of Captain Zhukov on the screen.
“Good morning, Admiral. I take it you noticed that one of our Hunter formations is past due.”
“Good morning to you, Dmitri Nikolayevich,” Patterson began, using the officer’s given name followed by the patronymic based on his father’s first name. Although the patronym had fallen out of common, everyday use, even in Russia, it was still seen as a sign of polite respect — especially when used by a superior officer from another country. “I did see that. Any chance it’s a coincidence?”
“I would say that with each passing minute a coincidence becomes less likely. If we hear nothing within the next half hour, we must conclude that the formation is most likely lost. Of course, this does not necessarily mean that they were destroyed by hostile forces, but …”
“But it doesn’t mean they weren’t, either,” Patterson interjected. “Do you have a strike package ready for me?”
“Yes, sir. We prepared three different options, but the one I recommend that we execute first is more of a reconnaissance in force. We begin by sending in one of our Reaper squadrons — twenty-four aircraft — configured for an anti-ship strike with C-Drive-equipped missiles.”
“That’s a more conservative approach than I would have expected from you, Captain. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I do not believe I have ever been accused of conservative combat tactics, Admiral,” Zhukov smiled, “but, as you know, we are in a bit of a tenuous situation. Assuming the missing Hunters were destroyed by the Resistance task force, this seems to imply that either: a) they jumped directly on top of the enemy formation; or b) the Resistance ships have deployed sophisticated defensive measures covering a large region of space surrounding their rally point. It is also possible that we are dealing with more than one rally point, so I would like to continue the Hunter reconnaissance flights even after we locate some of the enemy task force.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. How many Hunters do you have in action at the moment?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked that, sir. Fifty-six are in operation at the moment, including the two that may have been lost — that’s nearly half of the C-Drive-equipped Hunters we have available at the moment. Please recall that the decision was made to embark all of the available C-Jump-capable Hunters aboard the Jutland before she launched since, at the time, we did not know how long the other two carriers would be delayed. Now that all three are in space, I suggest we divide the RPSVs evenly so that each ship will have forty available, in addition to one hundred fifty-two with sublight capability only.”
Admiral Patterson swore silently to himself, then closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger as if trying to ward off a particularly bad headache. “Yes, of course, Captain. You’re absolutely right, and I realize now that I’ve issued a couple of orders that did not take that into account. I appreciate your compensating for my oversight, but please don’t hesitate to ask a question if I tell you to do something that doesn’t make sense. Yes, please make it as you say. Once you get the RPSVs redistributed, let Ushant and Philippine Sea take over the local CAP missions as well as the long-range reconnaissance flights. Since we have probably lost any potential of surprising the Resistance ships, we also need to beef up the local patrol missions quite a bit. Admiral Naftur seems to think they are waiting for the arrival of several additional ships, but if we have spooked them, they may decide to attack with the forces they have available. I also want the Jutland out of Earth’s gravity well and paired up with the Navajo. As the situation develops, we’ll need as many ships as possible ready to move — and hopefully dedicated to offensive combat operations at some point. Please pass all that along to Captain Donovan when we are finished here.”
“I will do so immediately, Admiral. Regarding the strike package, economy of force is our primary concern. With all of the Block 2 upgrades underway, we have only six active squadrons of F-373s available — and we had to strip all of our planet-side bases to get those. Two squadrons are now deployed aboard each carrier. Getting back to your original question, there are far too many unknowns at the moment, so I am reluctant to commit a significant portion of our tactical strike forces until we have a better idea of what we are up against.”
Patterson stared off to the side for a moment, slowly nodding his head as if testing Zhukov’s reasoning against his own set of assumptions. “Everything you said sounds reasonable to me. And I also agree that it seems likely the Resistance ships have some pretty intense anti-ship defenses set up around their perimeter. So I assume your plan is to C-Jump into the general area of the missing Hunters’ last recon location, but allow yourself some room to maneuver or retreat in case it’s too hot to conduct your attack.”
“That is correct, sir. The Operations Order calls for two flights of twelve Reapers to C-Jump into the area simultaneously at a distance of one light minute either side of the Hunters’ last destination. We have no way of knowing where the Resistance ships were located relative to this point in space, but dividing our forces should minimize the possibility of sending the entire squadron into the middle of an enemy formation. Each flight’s first priority will be using their passive sensor suites to gather as much information as possible regarding the enemy task force’s disposition, strength, and composition. Each flight commander will then evaluate the situation to determine whether to press the attack or return to base. Unlike the RPSVs, our Reapers are capable of multiple, consecutive C-Jumps, if necessary.”
“Very well, Captain. I have a couple of additional things in mind, but I’m going to need real-time comm out there — surveillance too, if I can get it. Are any of your fighters rigged to deploy a surveillance drone?”
“Not at the moment, sir, but we do have a few crews who have completed deployment missions before. The drone or beacon enclosures can be fitted to an external hardpoint and simply released at the desired location.”
“Can a single ship complete a deployment while remaining undetected?”
“Unlikely, sir. Not with a surveillance drone, since the pilot would be required to transition into normal space to deploy the second half of the system. Under the circumstances, I believe a communications beacon is the better choice, since doing so without detection should be possible. While its capabilities are limited to the relay of data, it would function in much the same way as a surveillance drone as soon one of our ships arrives in the area.”
“The fighter would remain in hyperspace for the entire deployment mission, then?”
“Yes, sir. C-Jump to the deployment location — drop the beacon — C-Jump home. Seems simple enough, yes? Although we have no way of knowing if the Resistance ships have the capability of detecting vessels in hyperspace.”
“No we don’t. What we do know, however, is that we have no way of doing so ourselves unless we hammer the area with active sensor scans, and even then it generally only works for frigate-sized or larger vessels that remain stationary for an extended period of time.”
“Correct. If we assume the Resistance vessels possess a similar level of capability, it is unlikely our fighter would be detected.”
“That doesn’t sound like a particularly sound assumption, Captain,” Patterson grumbled, “but I believe it’s a gamble worth taking. I have two more questions for you and then I need you to get with Captain Donovan and make all of this happen as quickly as possible. Number one, can you disperse five of the beacons around the area to give us the best chance of providing something like real-time coverage, and, number two, how quickly can you get all of this done?”<
br />
Zhukov glanced momentarily at a schematic showing the F-373’s ventral hardpoints, then nodded slowly as he responded. “The comm beacon launch enclosures are small, so I believe it will be possible for the Reaper to carry five, yes.”
The concept of ‘stealth’ had changed radically in recent years as designers grappled with the implications of adapting military tactics to faster-than-light spacecraft. Since the early twenty-first century, for example, strike fighters like the Reaper had primarily relied on internal bays to conceal their often blocky and decidedly unstealthy weapons. While such concealment was still beneficial for some specific mission types, it was largely unnecessary for others — particularly those where the ship was able to remain in hyperspace for most of the approach to its target. As a result, designers had quickly returned to the practice of attaching external ordinance and other specialized equipment on pylons beneath the fighter’s wings and fuselage.
“As for real-time communications coverage,” Zhukov continued, “we must make some educated guesses regarding the most likely location of the Resistance task force based on the information we have. If we assume the Hunters were destroyed in the immediate vicinity of the enemy ships, we may be able to establish NRD communications with only minimal delay. How much delay depends on the location of our ships with respect to the beacons once they transition into the area, of course. I can get a ship rigged and ready within the hour as long as our engineering staff can prepare the beacons for deployment that quickly. If you will permit me …” Zhukov paused, issuing several commands via his tablet. After a few moments, he looked back up at Patterson. “A fighter is being prepared for launch as we speak. I will be able to provide an estimated time to launch within the next few minutes.”
“Excellent. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Patterson replied with a broad smile.
“One more item regarding the reconnaissance in force mission … with your permission, the two flights will be led by myself and Commander David Waffer.”
The admiral regarded the CAG through narrowed eyes for a moment, then softened his expression a bit before answering. “You know exactly what I’m going to say, Dmitri. I absolutely cannot afford to lose you or your Air Boss. At the same time, I recognize that you are both superb pilots and I trust your judgment as well as anyone else I could name.” Patterson took in a deep breath and sighed to himself before giving his answer. “Do not get yourselves killed.”
“Yes, Admiral. I will add this new requirement to the OPORD,” Dmitri laughed.
“See that you do. Now, just one more thing,” Patterson said, his face taking on a piratical grin, “let me tell you about a hunch of mine that may change just a couple of items in your mission plan.”
Chapter 12
TFS Theseus, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
“Commander Reynolds,” Lieutenant Dubashi said over her shoulder from the Communications console, “Admiral Patterson just issued a prepare for launch order.”
The XO had upgraded the destroyer’s status to “mission effective” immediately after the entire crew had completed their minimum required training rotation. This had the immediate effect of requiring Theseus to begin operating much more like a ship of war than an ongoing construction project. All six of the ship’s reactors were now online, her weapons and stores loadouts complete, and her bridge manned by a designated officer of the deck twenty-four hours per day. At the moment, Lieutenant Dubashi happened to be on duty, but Commander Reynolds, like competent executive officers since time immemorial, always seemed to be everywhere onboard at the same time.
“Is that all the order contained?”
“Yes, ma’am. There were no other details attached. The flagship has indicated that they will be attempting to use a new form of quantum cryptography for message traffic requiring the highest levels of security. They believe our standard encryption methods have been compromised, but they are continuing to use them for most routine communications. I suppose they consider that an attempt at deception, but I have my doubts it will make much difference where the Guardian in concerned.”
“I see. Well, details or no, the admiral obviously believes something is about to happen,” Reynolds said. “I guess one good thing about being at Yucca Mountain is that we don’t have to worry about the crew being very far from the ship. Please confirm our status when you acknowledge the order, then go ahead and issue a general recall. As soon as you do so, we are granted a three-hour grace period. After that, we are required to be airborne within one hour of receiving an actual launch order, so things are about to get very busy around here.”
“Aye, ma’am, but I’m not sure I remember things ever not being busy,” Dubashi laughed.
“True enough,” Reynolds smiled, then looked at the ceiling out of habit before continuing. “Captain Prescott to the bridge,” she said aloud for the benefit of the ship’s AI.
Within seconds, the captain had been located and summoned back to the ship, resulting in an immediate call via the ship’s comm system.
“Reynolds, Prescott.”
“Reynolds here. Go ahead, Captain.”
“I’m in Captain Oshiro’s office at the moment. Did we get a prepare for launch order?”
“Yes, sir, we did.”
“I have been expecting that for a little while now. Admiral Patterson mentioned that he would like us to do a sort of ‘mini shakedown cruise,’ but I’m not sure if there is anything else going on or not. I assume you’re flying the Blue Peter?” he asked, referring to the traditional naval flag signal for “P,” signifying that the vessel was about to depart and that all personnel should report aboard immediately.
“Yes, sir. Most of our people are already onboard, but everyone else has at least acknowledged the recall order. I’m not sure how much good a short shakedown cruise will do at this point, but the AI seems to think all of our major systems are in the green and ready for departure. Overall, I think we’re in pretty good shape. The extra couple of days have been a godsend.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll be along shortly. Prescott out.”
SCS Hadeon, Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
Commander Woorin Miah strode onto Hadeon’s bridge for the first time in what he believed to be a manner befitting an officer commanding his own squadron of ships on detached duty. He was already a bit annoyed that there had been no honor guard present when his shuttle arrived and had also noted that the ship’s AI had failed to properly announce his arrival. Now that he had reached the bridge — his bridge — he was absolutely incensed by the apparent lack of respect. The Wek brute guarding the bridge entrance had not even bothered to call the room to attention when he entered. He stopped momentarily to glare at the Marine who, even without his combat armor, outweighed the Damaran by at least sixty kilograms and towered over him by thirty centimeters or more.
“I am Commander Miah,” he seethed. Although it was rare that anyone addressed the young enlisted man while on guard duty, he immediately came to attention per his training. With his eyes focused straight ahead, however, he was barely able to see the top of the commander’s head in his peripheral vision. “You will see that your commanding officer contacts me regarding your failure to follow protocol after you complete your duty hours today.”
“Aye, Commander,” the Marine responded smartly, in spite of having no idea what he had done to irritate the little Damaran.
Miah regarded the man for a moment with a look of disapproval before spinning on his heels and continuing in the direction of the command chairs lining the rear of the bridge. In spite of the scene he had just created in the entryway, the Wek bridge officers on duty had not noticed his arrival. Instead, their attention had been focused on making adjustments to their defensive perimeter required by the imminent departure of their two sister BD cruisers.
Stopping squarely in front of the console reserved for the ship’s commanding officer, Miah turned and stared down its current oc
cupant — a commander who was busily issuing instructions via the Command console’s touchscreen. After completing his task, the officer looked up from his screen, offering what any Wek would consider a polite smile accompanied by a low purring sound from the center of his chest.
“Good afternoon, Commander …” he paused while reading the Damaran’s nameplate, “Miah. I am Commander Yuli Takkar. How can I help you?”
“You can begin by addressing me as ‘Captain Miah!’” he snapped, this time raising his voice to ensure the entire bridge was aware of his presence, and causing several heads around the room to immediately turn in their direction. “I am now in command of this vessel, as well as the other three that will be remaining here to secure the task force’s original Rally point.”
“I beg your pardon, Commander Miah, but we have received no instructions along those lines from the Flag. Perhaps it’s just an oversight due to the haste with which we have been forced to relocate most of the task force. If you would like to have a seat here for a moment,” he said, gesturing to the empty Command console to his left, “I will be happy to confirm my instructions with the Gunov before she departs. My executive officer will also see to your accommodations aboard as well as anything else you might need during your stay.”
“I relieve you, sir,” Miah growled with barely contained fury while holding his ground directly in front of the Wek commander’s chair.
Commander Takkar was feeling less hospitable by the moment and, in fact, would probably have already taken grave offense to the Damaran’s abusive behavior under different circumstances. The situation struck him as so odd, even vaguely entertaining, however, that he managed to hold his temper in check for the moment. Is it possible this impudent whelp is telling the truth? he wondered. It was exceedingly rare that Damaran officers ever rose above the rank of commander — and only reached that rank by Governing Council fiat. It was also unusual for a member of their species to be given command of a single vessel, let alone a small squadron. Something about all of this didn’t seem quite right, but the Wek officer cautioned himself to avoid jumping to any conclusions just yet.
