Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive

by Tori L. Harris

  La rebelión contra tiranos es obediencia a Dios.

  Tierra Primero

  Although unneeded in this situation, the AI immediately provided an English translation at the bottom of the screen which read, “Rebellion against tyrants is obedience to God,” adding that the quote was generally attributed to American Founding Father, scientist, and political theorist, Benjamin Franklin. Strangely, the AI produced no known references to the signature line at the bottom of the note, which translated as simply “Earth First.”

  Locke then panned the camera upwards for a close-up view of the body’s face. The obvious cause of death had been a plasma bolt from a pulse rifle that had passed completely through the center of the chest cavity. The face, while contorted in eternal, abject rage, had been left untouched. Accordingly, the AI quickly provided a positive identification, corroborating the name of the deceased against several public and classified databases. In this particular case, however, everyone watching the video feed immediately recognized the body’s identity without the slightest need for sophisticated, facial recognition software.

  Karoline Crull, former Chairwoman of the Terran Fleet Command’s Leadership Council, was dead.

  Chapter 2

  Earth, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  (7 months later)

  Captain Hiroto Oshiro stood just a few meters from the foot of the forward brow connecting TFS Navajo to the wharf while awaiting the arrival of the Chief of Naval Operations. Although she had been the lead ship in her class, Navajo had been the last of Terran Fleet Command’s cruisers to be brought up to what was now commonly referred to as the “Cossack spec.” In addition to significant power generation improvements over the original design, the upgrades included installation of the latest in gravitic shield systems that had proved decisive in the battle against the Resistance fleet. Now, three weeks after her upgrades had been largely completed, the cruiser had returned to the shipyard for some last-minute maintenance prior to her scheduled deployment to Sajeth Collective space.

  Glancing down to check the state of his uniform, Oshiro’s attention was drawn to movement near the end of the Navajo’s berth. The senior captain furrowed his brow as he watched one of the new grav carts that had become such a fixture around the shipyard over the past few months round the corner at breakneck speed and head down the wharf in his direction. Although this particular application of gravitic technology had not yet been licensed for release on the open market, the Leadership Council had been sponsoring a number of industry partnerships to fast-track various new uses of Pelaran-derived tech. Designs for “grav chairs” and stretchers, for example, had recently been made available to manufacturers of medical equipment around the world, and, in spite of the fact that it was technically illegal to do so, the miniaturized Cannae thrusters and gravitic emitters they utilized had immediately begun appearing in other products. With the genie now well and truly out of the bottle, the Council was still doing its level best to give the impression that it remained in nominal control. On Earth, however, market forces always had and always would find a way to satisfy the demand — with or without the approval of those in positions of authority.

  As the cart approached, Oshiro recognized Charles Guthrie, a senior member of the facility’s civilian engineering staff, at the wheel. With PhDs in applied physics and mechanical engineering, Charles was a man with unparalleled expertise in a variety of areas, particularly Extra Terrestrial Signals Intelligence technology integration and, in the captain’s opinion, clearly smart enough to know better.

  “Jeez, Charlie!” Oshiro said in an exasperated tone as the electrically powered vehicle came to a rapid and nearly silent halt just a few meters away. “You’ll end up skidding right off the wharf and get yourself killed driving like that. Worse yet, you’ll probably break something that you and I together couldn’t pay for in ten lifetimes. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

  “Sorry, Captain,” Guthrie replied, fully aware that he had annoyed the facility commander but unable to stop grinning like an eighteen-year-old boy who had somehow managed to acquire the keys to his father’s Porsche. “I suppose I do need to cool it a bit. We just finished running an eval program on these things for the Science and Engineering Directorate. They essentially told us to ‘go crazy,’ and said that they didn’t believe there was much we could do with them that would result in an accident. So, naturally, we have been more than happy to oblige. They’re autonomous, of course … you can just tell it where you want to go and it will take off, just like our standard EV transport carts. As luck would have it, however, the Directorate was mostly interested in having us test them under manual control. They’ve got so many safety controls built into them that it’s pretty much impossible to get yourself into trouble … and don’t think that we haven’t tried,” he said, attempting to regain some semblance of professional bearing. “It’s very important to let it strap you in, though.”

  “Right, I heard you say ‘cool it,’ somewhere in the middle of all that, and that’s exactly what I need you to do. Is the Op Center ready for Admiral Patterson’s demo?”

  “Will do, sir, sorry again. I was planning on taking it down a few notches since I’m to be your chauffeur over to the OC. And, yes, our dog and pony show is ready to go. I think you’ll both be pretty impressed. Several things have really come together over the past few days. We’ve still got some work to do behind the scenes, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s ready for the first official shift tomorrow morning.”

  “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” Oshiro replied, turning to look up the gangway toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

  As was their custom, the two Marine guards flanking the sides of the gangway faced inward in unison, saluting crisply as Admiral Kevin Patterson made his way down to the wharf. As he reached the halfway point, Yucca Mountain’s AI sounded the traditional boatswain’s “Pipe the Side” call, followed by the announcement “Naval Operations, arriving,” to acknowledge the presence of the CNO. Patterson returned the Marines’ salutes as he passed between them, held it briefly in response to Captain Oshiro’s, then extended his hand.

  “Captain Oshiro … Doctor Guthrie,” he said warmly, “good to see you both again. I hear you’re ready for a ribbon cutting ceremony.”

  “Yes, sir,” Oshiro replied, “and if you’re ready to go take a look, Charlie has come out here to give us a ride back.”

  “In that?” Patterson asked, already heading in the direction of the grav cart. “Outstanding. I saw these things from a distance several times during the last upgrade, but I never got a chance to check one out up close.”

  “You bet, Admiral,” Guthrie said. “Wanna drive it?”

  “You’d better believe I do!”

  “Sir, I don’t know if we should be —” Oshiro began with a look of genuine concern on his face.

  “Oh, come on, Hiroto, Captain Davis still lets me conn that every once in a while,” Patterson said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the imposing bulk of the nearly kilometer-long cruiser Navajo. “Surely you don’t think I’ll have a problem handling a glorified golf cart.”

  “Well, sure, I just —”

  “Get in, Captain. Just for that, you can sit in the back — and just so you know, you sound just like my wife. Anything special I need to know, Doctor?” Patterson asked, sliding in behind the wheel.

  “Not really, sir. Make sure your restraints are good and tight. Otherwise, the onboard AI won’t allow you to do anything too dangerous.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you would say,” he said, grinning as he pressed the accelerator and aggressively whipped the cart around to head back up the wharf.

  Just seconds into their trip, Doctor Guthrie noticed a long section of guard rail had been removed on the adjacent berth in preparation for TFS Aeneas’ imminent arrival. “Can I show you something really cool?” he asked with a conspiratorial smile.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Without any addit
ional warning, Guthrie reached over, grabbed the side of the steering wheel, and abruptly jerked the cart to the left — immediately passing over the orange safety cones and through the missing section of guard rail into space over the gaping chasm of Berth 9. Unsure precisely how to react to such a seemingly unnatural situation, Patterson slammed on the “brakes” — reversing thrust and stopping the cart in midair a full seventy-five meters above the movable concrete landing platform below.

  “Bakayarō konoyaro!” Captain Oshiro swore loudly from the back seat. “You could have at least told us what you were about to do!”

  “That’s true, but it wouldn’t have made nearly the same impression,” Guthrie chuckled as he peered over the side of the cart.

  “You made an impression alright,” Patterson said, pushing against his restraints as he also leaned out for a better view of the precipitous drop beneath them. “I’m still trying to decide if I need to head back to the ship to change my uniform, though.”

  All three men laughed as Patterson once again turned the cart around and headed back to the relative safety of the wharf itself. “So, I take it the Science and Engineering folks have resolved some of the scaling problems they were having with the miniaturized versions of our grav emitters,” he asked, phrasing the question as an obvious statement of fact.

  “No, sir, not really,” Guthrie answered, “but once they released the low-powered versions they had come up with so far, it only took a few weeks before schematics started appearing online that largely overcame the previous limitations. There’s nothing like having literally the entire world tinkering with a problem, right?”

  “The open source model meets Pelaran tech, eh? Well, I’m happy to see some of what we’ve been using for a decade or more in TFC being declassified to a larger degree. It’s one thing to allow major corporations access for building air and spacecraft, but the technology in this cart alone has the potential to fundamentally transform transportation. In fact, I guess we’ll finally be able to stop building roads, right?” Patterson paused, struck once again by the implications of what he had just seen. “By the way, this thing is obviously capable of flight. Why limit it to driving like a traditional car?”

  “Hah,” Guthrie laughed, “that’s a great question, Admiral, and the answer is that it’s entirely arbitrary and entirely unnecessary. There are safety concerns to be addressed, of course, but I think for now they just want it to behave like what we’re all used to. One of our guys actually came up with a way to override the control system so that you can increase altitude,” he said, pulling a small tablet computer out of his jacket pocket. “Here, all I have to do is just —”

  “STOP!” Captain Oshiro yelled from the back seat, then checked himself. “Sorry, Doctor, but I think that’s probably enough excitement for now. Admiral, you can just pull over by the double doors on the left and we’ll head inside.”

  Patterson shot Doctor Guthrie a quick smile and a wink as they exited the cart and headed through a set of heavy doors into a long corridor with a bank of elevators to one side.

  “Welcome, Admiral Patterson, Captain Oshiro, and Doctor Guthrie,” the AI’s synthetic voice announced as they approached. “All activity in the TFC Operations Center is currently classified Top Secret, code word DEFIANT BASTION. Please enter the elevator to access the Operations Center.”

  “Alright, you two, I enjoy hearing all the ‘touristy’ stuff as much as anyone, so please, proceed with the grand tour,” Patterson said as he stepped into the elevator.

  “Yes, sir,” Guthrie replied, then waited a few moments for the elevator doors to seal before saying anything further. “You’ve probably heard quite a bit of this before, but I’ll hit the high spots and you can feel free to interrupt at any time with questions. The TFC Operations Center is the first of its kind anywhere in the world. Although you will see quite a few things that look familiar — not unlike a large-scale version of the Navajo’s Combat Information Center, in fact — it’s easily two orders of magnitude more powerful in terms of available computing power. We’ve also brought together the latest generation of both sensor and communications technology to provide a level of visibility that we simply did not believe was possible … even six months ago.”

  “So, my understanding is that we’ve been building this facility beneath the Yucca Mountain Shipyard for several years, but you’re telling me that its capabilities have advanced that much — even during the final phases of construction?”

  “Absolutely. It’s been about a year now since Ingenuity’s first hyperspace transition. I think all of us knew that there would be a steep learning curve after that — even compared to the past fifty years’ worth of data from the Guardian. What none of us anticipated was the impact of putting sophisticated, distributed AI in a position to do fundamental scientific data gathering and analysis. It’s difficult to describe what that’s been like this past year … kind of like being a child trying to learn a new skill while having the benefit of an experienced adult looking over your shoulder saying, ‘that’s good, but try it this way instead.’”

  “That’s gratifying to hear. Particularly given that there have been so many people out there for decades warning how the use of Extra Terrestrial Signals Intelligence data will stifle Humanity’s creativity. I think their basic argument has been that the Pelaran/Grey tech is a sort of intellectual crutch — essentially ‘unearned’ knowledge that will ultimately lead to a decrease in our ability to figure things out for ourselves.”

  “Humph. I guess history will be the judge of that, but from what I can tell, it has done exactly the opposite. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve entered a new age of enlightenment. Yes, we’ve had some help, but so what. Earth is in a relatively isolated section of the galaxy, so we can probably assume that many civilizations get quite a bit more help than we did — if they manage to not get themselves conquered or destroyed by their neighbors, that is. In any event, we’ve done a hell of lot on our own — I’m betting more than most. That’s why we came to the Leadership Council last year asking for a level of security exceeding that of the MAGI PRIME program. Everything related to code word DEFIANT BASTION is, for all intents and purposes, built on ‘alien-free’ tech.”

  “That’s not to say that there isn’t Pelaran and/or Grey-enhanced technology in use here,” Oshiro interjected, as they stepped off the elevator into a dark, cavernous room.

  Although mostly hidden from view at the moment — Patterson assumed this was largely for dramatic effect — he could see that the floor below was indeed arranged much like a massively upscaled version of the Combat Information Centers used on larger Fleet warships. Row upon row of workstations were arrayed around the room in a circular pattern, all apparently centered on what looked like an enormous platform that dominated the center of the floor area. Rising from there around the entire perimeter were viewing areas similar to those used in the much smaller Simulated Fleet Operations Training Center.

  As his eyes moved naturally upward towards the domed ceiling, Patterson was amazed by the sheer scale of the room. He had seen some preliminary specifications for the facility several years ago, but had not expected it to have the feel of an underground sports arena.

  “Oh, yes, of course, just about every piece of equipment we use every day has some elements that were at least inspired by ETSI,” Guthrie continued casually, “but in here we took nothing at face value — all the way down to the smallest electronic components. If we didn’t fully understand it, then it didn’t meet the requirements for this program. Otherwise, there would have been no way we could guarantee that everything in here is serving our interests.”

  “And ours alone,” Patterson added.

  “Exactly,” Captain Oshiro replied. “Now … ready to see the best feature of your new office?” he asked, nodding to Doctor Guthrie.

  With a single keystroke on the doctor’s tablet computer, the entire space seemed to flicker momentarily before being lit by the largest three-dimensional disp
lay ever constructed. For demonstration purposes, Guthrie had called up an image of the space immediately surrounding the Earth, and it was immediately obvious that every cubic centimeter of the entire space was accessible to the holographic projectors housed in the room’s central table.

  In the center of the room hovered a twelve-story-tall, photo-realistic representation of Humanity’s homeworld, reaching from just above the holo table all the way up to just short of the ceiling above. On the side of the planet lit by the sun, evidence of industrial-scale agriculture and even some of the largest man-made structures could be seen in some areas, while in the planet’s shadow, the lights from thousands of cities pierced the dark of night.

  Both Oshiro and Guthrie were gratified to hear the muffled gasp from Admiral Patterson standing in shocked silence just a few meters away. So far, this seemed to be the typical reaction most people had when experiencing Terran Fleet Command’s Op Center for the first time. “I’m not a big fan of the word ‘amazing,’” Patterson finally said, “but this truly is.”

  “Yes, sir, I have to agree with you,” Guthrie said. “One of the great things about having access to a display of this size is that it does a great job of portraying the true scale of things. The reason we came in through this entrance was so that we could place you close to the maximum distance from the center of the floor — that’s just over one hundred meters. We also tilted the ecliptic a little so that several of the vessels assigned to Earth’s ‘Home Fleet’ should come right past where we’re standing. Since they’re in a geostationary orbit at just over thirty-five thousand kilometers at the moment … stand by,” he said, checking his tablet once again, “we should be able to see them shortly. Let me ping them so we can pinpoint exactly where they are.”