“It is good to have you aboard once again, Prince Naf — excuse me, Admiral Naftur,” Jelani began. “We do indeed have much to do, sir. Before we begin, however, I gave my word to Captain Takkar that I would pass along his compliments as well as his recommendation that you transfer your flag to WFS Mithcah. It is his belief that you would be more comfortable and safer aboard a Baldev-class battleship.”
“Young Captain Takkar is understandably proud of his new command,” Naftur replied with a satisfied nod, “and he is undoubtedly correct that more spacious accommodations are available aboard his ship than those aboard the Gresav. As to my safety, it has always been my personal experience that larger ships make larger targets.”
“I certainly agree, sir,” Jelani said with a broad smile. “I informed Captain Takkar that you would be grateful for his kind offer, but would most likely choose to remain aboard the Gresav.”
“After all these years, this ship feels like a member of the family, Musa,” Naftur reflected, seating himself at one of the command chairs at the rear of the bridge and running his massive hands along both armrests as he reacquainted himself with his surroundings. “Besides, she still has a few tricks up her sleeve that would give even the Mithcah a run for her money, does she not?”
“Of that, there is little doubt, Admiral.”
“Captain Jelani,” the Gresav’s comm officer announced, “we just heard back from our next closest ships to the Herrera Mining Facility. They report that they are just over eight days out at best speed.”
“Understood, thank you,” he replied. The last thing Captain Jelani wanted was to give his Crown Prince and lifelong friend the impression that he was incapable of handling this, or any other situation. Over the past few weeks, however, he had become increasingly aware that the Wek Fleet, for all its might, was simply not equipped to cover the myriad of challenges it now faced in the wake of Graca’s departure from the Sajeth Collective.
“I was under the impression that we had already dispatched several vessels to Herrera,” Naftur said. “Have they not yet arrived?”
“No, sir, they have not. They are due within the next forty-eight hours, which may very well be soon enough, but given the strategic value of the facility, Command thought it prudent to determine if additional assets might be available.”
“I see. I’m here to work, Captain, so I expect that you and I will continue to utilize one another as trusted resources … just as we always have. I will let you know if my other responsibilities require more of my attention. You know better than anyone else that I have never pretended to be anything more than a lifelong naval officer. In my opinion, Graca is much better served by my continuing to do the job I have spent a lifetime mastering than it would be if I were at home attending state dinners and tinkering with domestic economic policy. Do you not agree?”
“Yes, of course, Admiral,” Jelani replied, inclining his head respectfully while chuckling in spite of himself. “I will confess, however, that this is the first time it has occurred to me why you were so eager to come back aboard and resume your duties with the Unified Fleet.”
“Well then, my friend, it is possible that you are even less politically astute than I — if such a thing is possible. Now, what has Command so concerned about the Herrera Mining Facility?”
“Over the past two days, there have been a number of unidentified hyperspace transitions in the area. Command believes that these could be a prelude to an attack.”
“You will please forgive me for being a bit behind on my operational intelligence materials, but if Command is concerned enough to consider dispatching additional warships, then it is most likely not Sajeth Collective forces they are expecting at Herrera.”
“No, sir. All of the Sajeth Collective Fleet’s capital ships are now either under our direct control or, in the case of several warships located near Pashurni and Shanus, have at least agreed to stand down from all active military operations until we have concluded our negotiations with their Governing Council. In the meantime, Terran forces are now in place at both Damara and Lesheera until our ships can relieve them. The fear is that the Krayleck have become aware of the power shift in the region and may be looking to take advantage of the situation.”
“The Krayleck,” Naftur said, closing his eyes momentarily as a low, menacing sound emanated from the center of his chest. “Now, when we are on the very cusp of formalizing a long-term relationship with the Humans, is no time to find ourselves in conflict with yet another Pelaran-cultivated civilization. We are in the process of forming what I hope will take shape as a ‘crowned republic,’ Musa. So, in spite of my favorable opinion of the Humans, decisions regarding what path our relationship will take is ultimately a decision for our newly formed Parliament.”
“In that case, sir, it might be in everyone’s best interest if the Humans are the ones to send ships to the area. Perhaps we should consider withholding our intelligence regarding the Krayleck association with the Pelaran Alliance. It might also be prudent to avoid providing any specific information regarding the Herrera Facility.”
“The Humans well understand the need for secrecy. Even after fighting alongside their warships, for example, there is a great deal that we do not know regarding their capabilities. But there is a fine line between protecting state secrets and outright dishonesty where your allies are concerned, is there not? I agree that we need not provide a great deal of specific information regarding the work being done at Herrera, but we must certainly tell them of our expectation that they will be encountering another Pelaran-cultivated species for the first time. Do you not agree?”
Jelani paused briefly to consider the situation, then continued. “I do, sir, and I suppose there is an element of inevitability underlying our relationship with the Terrans in any event.”
Naftur eyed his flag captain for a moment. It was highly unusual for Jelani to offer anything approaching a political opinion, even though he was, himself, a prominent member of one of Graca’s original seven dynastic houses. Caught slightly off guard by both the comment as well as his own somewhat emotional response to it, Naftur was unsure if his friend had intended to convey a level of discomfort with their newest ally. “I believe, Captain,” he replied, shifting smoothly to a more formal tone, “that you may be putting voice to a sentiment that many of us undoubtedly share. We have returned Graca to home rule for the first time in generations. And while there is widespread support for this move, many of our people seem to be extending the idea of independence to imply that we should stand alone as we did in ages past — avoiding all entanglements with other civilizations. While understandable, the notion that we can ever again provide any sort of meaningful security for our world in isolation from our neighbors is no longer realistic.”
“I apologize, Admiral. I agree with you, and in no way intended to imply any sort of criticism for you or our new government. My family, as you well know, has its share of political operatives, but that is not a life I would ever choose for myself. Like you, I am a naval officer, and have no desire to be otherwise,” Jelani replied with a knowing smile, echoing his superior’s earlier comment. “My observation regarding inevitability was merely a reflection of the situation we find ourselves in. The relatively small region we have always considered to be ‘Sajeth Collective space’ is bordered by at least two and perhaps three much larger spheres of influence dominated by civilizations associated with the Pelaran Alliance. Given that all of them are at least as advanced as we are and likely to become more so over time, it makes sense to partner with one or more of them … preferably one that shares at least some of our societal values. The Humans seem to offer, by far, our best option along those lines.”
“Exactly so, but it is I who should apologize. I fear that I am already beginning to think like a damnable politician, Musa. So, from now on, when I am in this uniform, I ask that you speak freely around me as I believe you always have. I will endeavor to do the same. I can also tell you without hesitation that I
do believe the Terrans share many of our values. They struggle from time to time — just as we do — and I fully expect them to pursue their own self-interests — again, just as we do. But we have much more in common with them than we do any of the other worlds in the Sajeth Collective.”
“Of that, I have little doubt.”
“As you say, we simply do not have the strength to stand alone against the rising tide of the Pelaran Alliance. And, on the subject of inevitability, it seems to me that we will soon reach a point where the so-called cultivated civilizations will begin to come into conflict with one another in this region. It is time to pick sides, my friend, and in spite of their relative inexperience, everything I have seen so far leads me to believe that we must cast our lot with the Humans and pray for the best.”
“Perhaps they will come to view our assistance as having been pivotal during their period of rapid development.”
“There are certainly worse things than having a powerful ally who believes themselves to be in your debt. Now, regarding the situation at Herrera, we must access the Terrans’ communications network and see if we can be placed into contact with either Admiral Patterson or Admiral Sexton.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Beyond that, having stripped the other six worlds of the Sajeth Collective of most of their military forces, we have a moral obligation to defend them from external threats. Contact Command and inform them that they are to mass the 3rd Fleet in its entirety at the Shanus anchorage. Tell them that the Gresav’s task force will be en route to reinforce the 3rd Fleet as quickly as we can get underway.”
“Begging your pardon, Admiral, but that will account for roughly a third of the Unified Fleet — well over one hundred warships and at least thirty-five support vessels. Is it not possible the Krayleck will see such a large concentration of forces near their frontier as an indication that we intend to attack?”
“That is indeed a possibility,” Naftur acknowledged with a nod, “but we can ill afford to allow them to commit open acts of aggression into Sajeth Collective space without an immediate and vigorous response. As you say, Captain, this region constitutes their frontier — in truth, even a bit beyond it. While we know that they have established a forward operating base not far from Herrera, it is doubtful that they have committed a large number of their warships so far from their homeworld. We must demonstrate our resolve in a decisive manner now, while they believe us to be at our weakest. If we fail to do so, we invite a future of endless challenges to our sovereignty over the area … and eventually a threat to Graca itself.”
“It will be as you say, Gracafürst.”
Damara
(489.3 light years from Earth)
With Captain Prescott’s task force sitting in close proximity to Damara, Admiral Patterson was in possession of sufficiently accurate navigational data to plot the final C-Jump of his 489.3 light year journey in a manner that would make a lasting impression on the population of the blockaded planet. Although he would not have been willing to delay his record-setting crossing for the purpose, the nearly perfect alignment of the planet’s most populated continent presented a psychological warfare opportunity that the old admiral simply could not resist.
In spite of repeated hails from the Theseus, there had been no further communication from Zorian Ved since the Damarans’ suicide attacks — followed immediately by the complete destruction of all of their military assets in the vicinity. When necessary, however, nine-hundred-and-fifty-meter-long Navajo-class cruisers were capable of alternate forms of communication.
At an altitude of four thousand meters — high enough to avoid serious injuries on the ground, while still generating something akin to an apocalyptic series of sonic booms — all ten warships in Admiral Patterson’s task force transitioned from a range of just over ninety light years distant directly into Damara’s atmosphere. This was, in fact, the first time a hyperspace atmospheric insertion had been attempted with a ship as large as a cruiser, and in this case, Admiral Patterson’s task force included four — with two destroyers and four frigates thrown in for good measure. Prior to their final C-Jump, Captain Ogima Davis of the Navajo had arranged the task force at an interval and speed such that at least one of the ships would be clearly visible to every inhabitant of the targeted continent. Accordingly, the stage had been set for a dramatic display reminiscent of countless science fiction movies depicting the arrival of hostile alien forces at an unsuspecting and unprepared Earth. Ironically, such a thing had never occurred in the Sol system, and this particular “alien force” was made up entirely of Human warships.
Shattering the tranquil, spring evening off the west coast of Damara’s largest continent, ten simultaneous flashes of light erupted from the heavens, replaced immediately by streaks of orange-tinted fire that seemed to cleave the very sky as they passed overhead. Those on the ground who bore witness to the Terrans’ arrival were understandably terrified, but their fear had a dimension that the Humans could never understand — a wild, primal fear that gripped their subconscious minds and recalled latent images from their species’ collective past. It was as if every Damaran who witnessed the enormous arcs in the sky suddenly found themselves on an open plain with nowhere to hide, surrounded by a pack of merciless predators that had approached unseen in the dark.
Just as the hellish light from their passing had begun to fade from view, the very foundations of the planet seemed to falter as shockwaves generated by the colossal warships reached the surface. Many areas were left without power as the resulting seismic activity tripped emergency systems that automatically took vast segments of the power grid offline. Admiral Patterson’s mass demonstration continued for several minutes, extending across the width of the entire continent until the ships departed the night skies just off the east coast — punctuated by the same flashes of light that had heralded their arrival.
Light structural damage and minor injuries had been inflicted across nearly one-third of the planet’s total land mass in a very short period of time. Although the physical damage was militarily insignificant, the psychological impact on the Damaran population at large was enormous. After a period of what could accurately be described as widespread panic, a series of demands passed frantically from the populace to their respective government representatives, all insisting that they take immediate action to pacify the marauding Terran forces and agree to whatever terms they had in mind.
Humanity’s “war,” such as it was, with perhaps the most militant civilization in the Sajeth Collective was effectively over.
TFS Theseus
(3.29x106 km from Damara)
“Lieutenant Dubashi, please render honors for the Chief of Naval Operations,” Prescott ordered as Admiral Patterson’s ten-ship task force took up positions to starboard.
“Aye, sir. Nineteen-gun salute transmitted and acknowledged by the Navajo. Also, Admiral Patterson is requesting a vidcon with you and Commander Reynolds as soon as possible.”
“Well, that does seem to be the pattern today, doesn’t it?” Reynolds said, attempting to sound upbeat.
“It does indeed,” Prescott replied flatly. “Please let him know that we will be with him shortly. Commander,” he said, standing and gesturing towards the ready room, “I need a word before we get started with the CNO.”
“Of course, sir,” she said, standing and leading the way aft.
“Lieutenant Commander Schmidt, you have the bridge,” Prescott said as he turned to follow his XO.
“Aye, sir,” Schmidt replied, moving to take his place at one of the Command consoles while being immediately replaced at Tactical 1 by an ensign from the standby crew.
“Sir,” Dubashi called, catching Prescott half a stride from the door to his ready room, “we’re being hailed from the planet’s surface. It’s text-only like the first message we received, but indicates that it is once again from Defense Minister Ved. The message reads as follows: ‘Captain Prescott, on behalf of the Sajeth Collective and the planetary gove
rnment of Damara, we unconditionally accept the terms you outlined during our previous discussion. Please make contact again on the included frequency at your earliest convenience.’”
“Sounds like the admiral got his point across,” Reynolds said, her smiling face leaning in through the door from the adjoining ready room.
“It certainly does. Acknowledge on the indicated frequency and instruct them to stand by for further instructions,” Prescott said, turning to quickly exit the bridge.
“Aye, sir,” Dubashi called after him.
“The Damarans rolling over after a little ‘shock and awe’ may put Patterson in a better mood alright,” Prescott said as the door closed behind him, “but I wanted you to be aware that Bruce Abrams thinks he may have come out here to fire me and send us home.”
“Fire you? Oh, come on, that’s absolute BS and you know it.”
“Okay, ‘fire’ might not be exactly the right word. Relieve me from the current mission and send us home. Is that better?”
“Nope, sorry. Still BS. So why does Captain Abrams even think this might be a possibility? Because of Industrious?”
“Yeah, that’s part of it. The Leadership council apparently doesn’t think we should ever lose another ship.”
“Well that’s clearly ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re pretty much the poster boy for TFC. I doubt they could fire you even if they wanted to because of all the bad press it would generate. Besides, you thought the same thing after we stumbled into our first battle in the Ingenuity. You know Admiral Patterson. That’s just not the kind of officer he is — even if you really had screwed up … and you haven’t.”
Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive Page 13
