“Aye, sir, receiving it now. Be advised that our lexical data for this species indicates a zero seven percent degree of uncertainty. Some of the real-time translations may not be entirely accurate.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
With that, two windows opened on the left side of the bridge view screen, one displaying Commander Gara, the other once again revealing an alien species never before encountered by Human beings. In spite of their training to the contrary, virtually every member of the bridge crew quietly expressed a degree of astonishment and even disgust at what they saw.
“Watch your bearing, folks,” Prescott chided. “Most species we run into out here are not going to look nearly as much like us as the Wek do. That doesn’t mean we can’t work with them, so let’s ignore their appearance and focus on the mission.”
“Greetings, Commander Gara,” the Krayleck began, translated and reproduced perfectly by Theseus’ AI in their species’ grotesquely wet, yet strangely cordial tone. “I am Captain … representing the Krayleck Empire.”
“There was no translation available for his name,” Lieutenant Dubashi quickly interjected.
“I’m pretty sure he said Bob,” Ensign Fisher said under his breath.
“You have been repeatedly warned that your facility is located within the boundaries of the Krayleck Empire,” the alien captain continued. “Although you appear to be willfully trespassing, we now offer you one final opportunity to vacate the premises peacefully. You must leave all buildings, equipment, and any documentation fully intact upon your departure. Additionally, I presume that the nearby warship is listening to this conversation. Although they have committed an act of aggression against the Krayleck Empire, the configuration of their vessel indicates that they too are associated with the Pelaran Alliance. As a matter of courtesy, we will contact them independently and offer them a single opportunity to surrender without further conflict.”
“If we do come under attack, our best chance lies in making an impression on them very quickly,” Prescott said. “I want both flights of Hunters to go after Foxtrot 1 on the far side of their formation. At the same time, we will hit Delta 3 and try to score a quick kill. If we can take down two of their ships before they can get organized, they may think twice about pressing their attack. Everyone clear?”
“Aye, sir,” all six members of the bridge crew replied in unison.
“As we indicated before,” Commander Gara continued on the view screen, “we are expecting the arrival of several Wek vessels shortly that will provide us the opportunity to evacuate. If you will allow it, the Terran vessel has offered to assist us until our ships arrive.”
“I can assure you, Commander, that you will not wish to accompany the … Terran, you said? … vessel. You will access your station’s emergency evacuation system and await retrieval by your ships. As long as your vessels take no aggressive action and follow our instructions exactly, we will not interfere with their rescue operation. You have until I finish speaking with the Terran captain to begin your evacuation.”
“Transmission terminated, Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi reported as the two windows closed and the view screen returned to a light-amplified view of Delta 3.
“It doesn’t sound like he’s interested in doing a lot of talking at this point,” Reynolds said.
“No, and it occurs to me that they probably know more about what the Wek are doing at this facility than we do and are interested enough to fight for it. I’m guessing that also means they will do everything they can to keep from destroying it.”
“The Krayleck captain is hailing us, sir,” Lieutenant Dubashi reported from the Comm/Nav console.
“On-screen, please.”
“Aye, sir, opening channel.”
Once again, a window opened on the left side of the view screen to display the alien captain’s face — his mouthparts now completely awash in oozing, brown liquid.
“As I have already stated,” he began without any pretense of formality, “you have destroyed one of our vessels without provocation. Your ship is clearly of Pelaran origin, but since you are not broadcasting the appropriate recognition codes, I must assume that your world has not yet formally joined the Alliance. Unfortunately for you, that means that you are not covered under the terms of the Alliance charter and not entitled to receive quarter. Nevertheless, we will show mercy to your crew if you surrender immediately.”
Prescott stared impassively at the Krayleck captain’s image for several seconds before speaking, then began in a low, even tone. “Our two species are not yet acquainted, Captain,” he said, also not bothering with introductions, “and it would indeed be a shame for our first meeting to result in violence rather than constructive conversation. Let me assure you that we did not destroy your ship. In fact, we didn’t even speak with them, and, clearly, we have no motive whatsoever for mounting such an attack. Our only business here was in answer to a distress call from the Wek personnel manning the Herrera science station. It seems they were being repeatedly harassed by your ships and feared they were about to come under attack. As it turns out, they were correct. Your ships opened fire on the station immediately before one of them was caught up in a gravimetric disturbance of some sort and destroyed.”
“Your feigned ignorance of the true purpose of this so-called ‘science station’ is laughable, Captain. And we both know that the strategic value of this system is sufficient motive for far worse things than the destruction of a single frigate. In any event, I am pleased to see that you have not raised your shields. May I take this as an indication of your understanding that you must either flee or surrender immediately?”
“No, Captain, neither of those options is acceptable. We didn’t fire on your frigate, and we have no quarrel with you as long as you allow us to peacefully complete our mission. Otherwise, there is nothing further for us to discuss at this time.” With that, Prescott glanced over at Dubashi and drew his hand across his throat, signaling her to terminate the vidcon.
“What you said about their not wanting to destroy the facility makes sense, but the same thing may apply to us as long as we’re not directly interfering with what they’re doing,” Reynolds observed.
“You mean they may just go about their business and leave us alone if we stay out of their way. Yes, I thought of that as well and, unfortunately, that would put us in a difficult situation with regard to our orders. We’re not permitted to fire unless fired upon, but we’re also supposed to be protecting the Wek personnel aboard the station.”
“Mm-hmm, good luck with that. If I were Captain Bob over there,” Reynolds paused to allow Fisher to look back and receive her halfheartedly disapproving scowl, “I’d ignore us completely for as long as possible while I did whatever I came here to do.”
“Damn,” Prescott said after a few moments of silence. “That’s exactly what he’s going to do. Helm, bring us in as close as possible to the station while still leaving yourself room to maneuver.”
“Aye, sir,” Fisher replied.
“Green deck, XO. Put Rios and his two squads on the ground right now. Their orders are to evacuate the Wek personnel immediately. If they can finish rigging the place to blow on their way out without any further delay, fine. Otherwise, the Wek Unified Fleet may just have to destroy it themselves if that’s how they want to play it.”
“Done,” Reynolds replied while still entering commands via her touchscreen. “They’ll be inside the station’s hangar bay in two minutes. But if you’re thinking the Krayleck are planning to call our bluff and put boots on the ground, Rios will probably need his third squad as well.”
“They’ve got seven ships, Commander. For all we know, they could be about to drop an entire Marine Expeditionary Unit in there, so I’m not sure an extra fourteen troops will make that much difference.”
“Fifteen,” she said, standing and staring back at her captain with the same look of fierce determination he had seen so many times over the past several years.
&
nbsp; Prescott fixed her with a hard stare of his own, taking the measure of his own willingness to risk his friend and first officer’s life on a dangerous mission for which she was only minimally qualified.
“If we’re going to deploy the entire platoon, there needs to be an officer who’s nominally in charge — even though Rios will still be running the op,” she pressed.
“Go,” he said, realizing that any further comments would most likely be inappropriate in front of the rest of the bridge crew. “Schmidt, you’re with me. Lee, take Tactical 1, please.”
“Aye, sir,” all three officers replied enthusiastically, each one eager to prove themselves capable of handling additional responsibilities during a combat operation.
Prescott watched as an even younger lieutenant (junior grade) emerged from the crew lounge and took her place at the Science and Engineering console.
Tom Prescott was in excellent physical condition and every bit as mentally sharp as he had been in his twenties. Predominantly for those reasons, he rarely had any cause to be particularly conscious of his age. In this moment, however, he was acutely aware of the fact that there were natural limits to how long someone could reasonably expect to handle the rigors of life as a starship captain. The Wek apparently had careers that could span hundreds of years, but he knew that his time was much more limited. Accordingly, he offered a short, silent prayer that he would make decisions that would prevent the men and women under his command from losing their lives well before their time.
“Captain, I’m seeing flight apron activity on the destroyers,” Lieutenant Lau reported, placing a view from one of the two flights of Hunter RPSVs on the view screen. “The main aft airlocks are opening on all three, sir.”
While it was still impossible to see what type of ships they intended to launch, there was little doubt in Prescott’s mind that this was proof positive that the Krayleck intended to land troops to take possession of the Herrera facility rather than simply open fire as they had done previously. Taking a quick look at the tactical plot, he could see that the first two Gurkhas — designated with the usual “Savage 1” and “Savage 2” call signs — were already approaching the facility’s hangar bay and would be landing shortly.
“Savage 1, Theseus-Actual,” Prescott announced, his call instantly relayed over the tactical comm channel by the ship’s AI.
“Theseus-Actual, go for Savage 1,” the Marine master sergeant responded immediately.
“We’ve got three enemy destroyers preparing to launch spacecraft. I don’t have any specifics yet, but I can almost guarantee you’re about to have company.”
“Savage 1 copies. Zero eight of one five Wek personnel are ready for immediate evac. The others say they’ll be ready shortly after we arrive.”
“Grab and go, Master Sergeant, and make it quick. You’ll be reinforced by Savage 3 shortly, but if you can finish before they arrive, so much the better.”
“Understood, Theseus-Actual. We’ll get ‘em out sir,” Rios replied, already aware that Commander Reynolds would be aboard the third shuttle and fully understanding the need to complete his mission, if possible, before being forced into contact with a potentially much larger force deployed by the Krayleck ships.
“I don’t doubt it for a second. Good luck, Top. Prescott out.”
Herrera Mining Facility
(87.2 light years from Damara)
“Shuttle secured. No hostile forces detected in the landing zone. Immediate dismount authorized,” the Gurkha assault shuttle’s AI announced inside Master Sergeant Antonio Rios’ helmet.
With seven Krayleck ships easily within weapons range and the expectation that they would be sending down their own troop shuttles momentarily, the two Gurkhas had executed high-performance combat landings. The idea had been to minimize the period of time where the station’s shields would be offline, not to mention the need for the outer hangar bay airlock doors to remain open. While undoubtedly a prudent precaution under the circumstances, the rough, high-G landing had been hard on the shuttles’ occupants.
Rios squeezed his eyes tightly together, then blinked several times in an effort to force the inside of the shuttle back into focus. A distant part of his mind realized that it was already taking him longer than it should have to get his two squads moving. Fortunately for him, his combat EVA suit’s AI recognized this as well, and immediately began working to correct his temporary lapse in performance.
“Hey, kid, you planning on moving your ass at some point, or what?” the suit prompted in the stereotypically “mobster-like” simulation of Charlie “Lucky” Luciano’s voice. “Come on, kid, the boss wants this gig done yesterday, and now his gun moll is on her way down here too.”
Whether shrewdly calculated to refocus his attention or not, this last comment brought the master sergeant fully back to his senses. “Jeez, Lucky … Commander Reynolds ain’t nobody’s ‘gun moll!’ Now please don’t ever say anything remotely like that again, alright? I feel like I could get in big trouble just hearing something that stupid.”
“Whatever, tough guy. At least you’re awake now, right? We’re good outside, let’s get this crew moving.”
Taking in another deep breath to clear the remaining cobwebs from his mind, Rios glanced at the tactical plot projected in his helmet display to confirm that none of the myriad sensors at his disposal were detecting anything that might pose a threat to his Marines. Seeing only the twenty-eight Human and eight Wek signatures he was expecting, he sent a quick command to open the rear cargo and side doors of both shuttles. Less than thirty seconds later, his troops had positioned themselves to provide a basic defensive perimeter throughout the hangar bay and then immediately set about working on how best to hold off a superior Krayleck force long enough to evacuate the station.
“Theseus Flight Ops, Savage 1 and 2 proceeding with EVA. Combined call sign change to ‘Rescue 11,’” he announced over the tactical comm channel.
“Rescue 11, Theseus Flight Ops acknowledged,” the controller replied immediately.
After taking a moment to further familiarize himself with his surroundings, Rios removed his helmet and approached the group of Wek personnel waiting near the entrance to the station proper. Like all of the members of their species he had encountered thus far, this group looked formidable enough — from a Human perspective, at least. But unlike some of the other Wek he had spoken to, Admiral Naftur, in particular, none of the them gave him the impression of restrained power he had come to associate with members of their military.
A couple of them may still be Wek Navy, he corrected himself, but they’re engineers and scientists, not combat troops. Rios’ mind was busily taking inventory of the resources at his disposal, and he immediately realized that, while they might be capable of handling a weapon, these techies would stand little chance against well-trained and presumably heavily armored Krayleck troops.
“I’m Master Sergeant Rios from the Theseus,” his suit’s AI translated as he approached. He had only had the opportunity to hear a synthesized facsimile of his own voice speaking the Wek language a couple of times, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way it sounded. Absolutely badass, he thought. Makes German sound like it’s for sissies. “I’m looking for Commander Gara.”
“She is finishing up in the reactor section,” a female wearing gray work coveralls replied. Rios noted that she had stepped forward without hesitation, staring directly into his eyes in spite of the fact that he towered over her by the better part of a meter in his combat armor. “I can take you to her if you like.”
“I appreciate that, ma’am, but we’ve got hostile troops inbound, so we’ve got to get all of you off this station immediately. Does she have some sort of comlink, or is there an intercom system we can use to contact her?”
“She does, and there is, but I can tell you that using them is a waste of time. The ambient noise level down there is too high and she will be wearing hearing protection. Besides, she will never agree to evacuate until she finishe
s rigging the explosives. She went down there immediately after speaking to the Krayleck captain, and she indicated that it should not take her long to complete her work.”
Even without being able to pull up a schematic of the facility on his helmet display with a mere thought, Rios immediately recalled that the reactor section was located at the end of a nearly kilometer-long, descending corridor punctuated by multiple sets of stairs. He would have to go down to her — and, unfortunately, doing so would take time that they didn’t have. In a pinch, he could jam perhaps thirty people aboard each Gurkha, but given that there were most likely hostiles on the way, he couldn’t count on maintaining access to more than the two shuttles he currently had in the hangar bay. That meant that he would have to send this group of eight Wek back to the Theseus now — along with five of his Marines — if he was to have any hope of getting everyone else off the station in one trip.
“Rescue 11, Theseus-Actual,” Rios heard via both his backup earpiece and his helmet that he still held in his left hand.
“Theseus-Actual, go for Rescue 11,” Rios replied.
“You’re out of time, Top. There are six landing craft on the way down. They’re a little bigger than our assault shuttles, so I’m guessing you can expect a minimum of nine zero Krayleck troops headed your way. ETA: zero three minutes.”
“Understood, sir. I’m sending one of our Gurkhas back to you with eight Wek and five Marines aboard. That should still leave enough room to board everyone else on the remaining shuttle as soon as we have all of our evacs in one place. How soon can we expect the third shuttle with Commander Reynolds?” While waiting for Captain Prescott to respond, Rios made two quick gestures to Corporal Montaño, who immediately began aggressively herding the eight Wek evacuees aboard the first shuttle.
Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive Page 18
