Stars & Empire: 10 Galactic Tales

by Jay Allan

  It was early morning at Headquarters, located in Geneva, Switzerland, when they arrived at Earthdock. There was a shuttle waiting to take them to the surface. The trip down was just long enough for Shiloh and his people to eat a hasty meal. Shiloh knew that HQ already had all of the data, logs, messages and reports that had been transmitted when 344 emerged from Jumpspace, but he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he had forgotten to bring something.

  When the shuttle landed, there was quite the delegation waiting to greet them. Shiloh and his crew had been told what would happen next. All personnel would be debriefed separately. The debriefing would be short for most of them, since they hadn’t been on the Bridge or at any key station during the battle. Bridge personnel and all Officers and NCOs would go through a more thorough debriefing. As his crew were sorted and directed to a waiting convoy of ground transport, Shiloh was busy saluting and shaking hands with more Space Force brass than he had ever seen in one place at the same time during his entire career. The greetings were positive but somber in tone. There were congratulations on his victory and his bringing his damaged ship home, but he could tell they didn’t feel he’d won a glorious victory, but rather some kind of consolation prize. It was as if they were saying ‘you started a war, but at least you won the first battle’.

  Shiloh was asked to accompany a Senior Lieutenant to a waiting limo that was flying the flag of a three star Admiral. After settling into its very comfortable interior, he waited alone for what seemed like a long time. The door was still open and he could hear voices coming closer. He was able to catch the last few phrases.

  “—yes, I know it’s a goddamn mess, but we have to keep acting as if it’s a victory so the public won’t panic.”

  “Just wait until the Council hears that we’re in an interstellar war with an enemy we know nothing about. One that can outgun us! God! What a mess!”

  “Okay. Okay. Let’s hope it’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll go with Shiloh. You ride with his XO. We’ll compare notes after the debrief.”

  With that, Admiral Howard, Chief of Space Operations for the United Earth Space Force, entered the limo, nodded to Shiloh, and rapped on the transparent partition separating the passenger section from the driver. The door hissed shut, and the limo accelerated smoothly. Howard said nothing for a few seconds while he looked at Shiloh. Then he opened a compartment in the middle of the seat, a compartment that Shiloh hadn’t even known was there, and took out two cigars. Without saying a word, he offered one to Shiloh, who took it with a curt, ‘Thank you, Sir.’ Howard grunted acknowledgement and lit his cigar with the limo’s cigarette lighter. He handed Shiloh the still hot device and the Commander did the same.

  After taking a deep puff of his cigar, the Admiral said, “Well, Commander. You’ve had an interesting trip. I’ve seen the preliminary data you transmitted, so I know the overall sequence of events. It’s too bad we don’t know the fate of the 301 and 299, but I expect we’ll get some news sooner or later.” The Admiral shook his head in obvious disapproval before adding, “I can’t believe Omar would take his undamaged ships back there after Torres ordered him to retreat. That was a damned reckless thing to do!”

  Shiloh said nothing.

  Howard took another puff and then said in a calmer tone, “I’ve read your report. Very well thought out by the way. I was particularly impressed with your analysis of the overall implications of the encounter and battle. How convinced are you that a crash mobilization is needed to defend against these aliens?”

  “Admiral, I’ve given this a LOT of thought on the way back. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that we need to start building ships immediately. Lots of ships, and I don’t just mean more frigates. We are going to need ships that are far better armored, with more powerful weapons, and plenty of them. That means bigger ships. MUCH bigger ships. These aliens will come looking for us, and we need to be ready for them when that time comes.”

  Howard sighed and nodded. “Based on what I’ve learned so far, I’m reluctantly forced to agree with your assessment. The problem I foresee is that the kind of response you’re talking about will costs thousands of billions of credits, and government revenues still haven’t returned to the level they were before the Depression hit. It’s going to be tough to convince the politicians that we need to do this. There’s an election within sight, and emergency-spending programs of this magnitude will have to be financed with increased taxes. I’m sure you know what that means?”

  Shiloh nodded. Howard went on.

  “Finding the money to build a fleet of big ships is one thing. But it also takes time to build ships like that. Do we have that time?”

  Shiloh considered his answer carefully. “I just don’t know, Admiral. The system where the battle took place is over 28 parsecs from Earth. That’s almost 100 light years away. If they know which direction to go, they’ll find us soon. But if they don’t, they’ll have a lot of stars to explore. That will take time, especially if they explore each system with large groups of ships.”

  Shiloh was about to say more, but the Admiral interjected. “What if they were able to download navigational data from the 319 or 301? Any idea what the chances of that happening are?”

  “Well, Sir, with the security features that our ships have to prevent unauthorized accessing of data, I’d say there’s only a remote chance that they would be able to figure out how to access any data without triggering the self-erase program. In the case of the 319, the video showed the ship had taken a slashing hit across her Bridge section. From the external damage, I would guess that there wasn’t much left of the Bridge computer equipment after that hit. As far as the 301 is concerned, it’s my impression that SL Torres would understand the necessity to keep the enemy from gaining access to any information and would take whatever steps were necessary to prevent that. I’m sure she would have ordered the 299 to take the same precautions.”

  “I see,” was all the Admiral said.

  Neither of the men said anything else until they arrived at the underground entrance to Space Force Headquarters. Howard asked Shiloh to accompany two junior officers to a debriefing room, which he did. After they got him a coffee, the debriefing session started. Two hours later they brought in lunch and continued the session while he ate. He answered a barrage of questions, looked at computer screens showing data that 344 or one of the other frigates had collected, and tried to explain to them what the data meant. After another four hours they were done, and Shiloh was exhausted. One of his debriefers told him that he and all of his officers would be taken to an isolated but comfortable hotel for the night. Their personal belongings, which they had brought with them on the shuttle, had been transferred there already. He went on to explain that while the official debriefing sessions were over, the Brass wanted to have the opportunity to talk unofficially with at least some of them the next day. After that they would be given time off to go home and visit family, or do whatever else they chose.

  Shiloh was escorted to the underground garage again, where he found a Space Force bus waiting for him. Apparently he was the last of the group to finish the debriefing. He climbed aboard the bus and found all his officers, as promised, waiting for him. The bus left as soon as he sat down. Forty-five minutes later they arrived at the hotel. It was comfortable enough and certainly isolated. As far as he could tell the Space Force group were the only guests. The staff seemed perfectly at ease, and Shiloh guessed that this hotel was actually run by the Space Force to take care of the U.E. government officials and politicos who frequently visited Space Force HQ. That would make sense from the point of view of securing the safety of the visitors, as well as allowing them the flexibility to discuss classified information amongst themselves, without worrying about being overheard by members of the general public.

  That evening he and his officers were finally able to relax. Several got drunk, and most went to bed early. The next morning at breakfast, Shiloh got a call from one of Admiral Howard’s ai
des, informing him that the four ships under Cmdr. Omar had returned safely from the battle system, and were en route to Sol via the same base at which 344 had refueled. Their return would take longer due to the fact that the support ships were coming with them. The base, known as SFB Bradley, had dispatched a message drone to HQ as soon as the frigates and support ships had emerged from Jumpspace. Shiloh wanted to know what Omar’s force had found in the battle system. The aide didn’t know. She passed on the Admiral’s request, an order really, that Shiloh and Johansen come to the Headquarters by 0900 hrs. When the aide terminated the call, Shiloh turned to his XO, who was seated at the same table.

  “The CSO wants us back at HQ by 0900. Omar’s ships are on their way back.”

  Johansen’s eyes widened at the mention of the frigates. “Any word on what happened to them?”

  “The Admiral’s aide didn’t know, or wouldn’t say. I’m hoping we’ll find out when we get there. Let’s finish eating. I don’t want to be late.”

  The XO nodded. So much for lingering over another cup of coffee.

  CHAPTER 3: Now What Do We Do?

  Shiloh and Johansen arrived at HQ by 0900, as requested, and then they were kept waiting in the conference room for almost an hour. Typical Space Force snafu. Hurry up and wait. What irritated Johansen the most was that she could have had a second coffee, with plenty of time to enjoy it, if someone had thought to offer them one. But no one did. Finally Admiral Howard and two other flag officers, who Shiloh remembered from the arrival delegation the previous day, entered the room and sat down at the large oval table opposite to him and the XO. Their expressions were grim. All three opened bright red folders, and Howard cleared his throat.

  “Thank you for being here on time. Unfortunately when you’re the CSO you sometimes have to be late. As my aide told you, we received word by message drone from SFB Bradley that four frigates under Commander Omar, plus the Support Group, were on their way back here. What my aide didn’t know, when she spoke with you this morning, was what Omar found when he took those ships back to the system where the battle took place.”

  He turned to his right and said, “Sergei, we have to find a name for that system. We can’t keep calling it the system where the first battle took place.”

  He turned back to Shiloh and Johansen. “I asked you and Commander Johansen to come here this morning so that we”—he indicated the other two flag officers—“could pick your brains about the next step. What do we do now? That’s the question that I’m going to have to go to the Oversight Committee with answers to, and I need as much input as I can find. But before we get to that, you both deserve to know the latest situation. While Cmdr. Omar displayed questionable judgment in returning to the battle system, going against Squadron Leader Torres’ orders to retreat, he redeemed himself, in my eyes at least, by his actions once he got there. Upon arrival there was no sign of any Space Force vessel. No distress signals, no energy emissions of any kind, nothing. Commander Omar decided to make a short jump to the opposite side of the system in order to approach the last known location of the 319, 301 and 299 with a vector that could easily be modified into a jump vector back to the staging system and the waiting Support Group. But before actually taking his ships to the site of the ambush on Torres’ ships, he deployed a spread of recon drones at high speed to actively scan the area in question. His theory was that if the alien ships had left the vicinity of the ambush, it would be safe to use active scanning. If they were still there, then the active scanning would detect them. That’s what happened. The active scanning detected nine ships. Two were apparently adrift and more or less close together, and the other seven were strategically placed around the first two. Preliminary analysis of the scan data suggests that the two drifting ships were the 319 and either the 301 or 299. The other seven are assumed to be alien vessels waiting for another opportunity to ambush more ships. It seems that one of the two ships that stayed behind was destroyed outright. Otherwise, we’d have seen three drifting ships. Once the alien ships were clearly detected, they destroyed the recon drones. Omar then earned himself a commendation by ordering another spread of recon drones to ram the two drifting ships, thereby destroying them. His reasoning was very simple. Even if there were survivors on those ships, and there’s no evidence to suggest that there were, there was no way to rescue them without putting even more lives in serious jeopardy. And without rescue, those survivors would either be captured or die eventually from lack of life support and food. By destroying those derelicts, he denied them to the aliens, thereby protecting sensitive information about our location, technology and capabilities. Once the derelicts were confirmed destroyed, Omar ordered his ships to jump back to the staging system where they collected the Support Group and started on their way here. If this preliminary information checks out, then I’m prepared to approve Commander Omar’s actions. That pretty much brings you up to date.

  “What we’d like to do now is get some ideas from both of you since you two have a unique insight into this alien threat. You are encouraged to speak freely and nothing you say will come back to haunt you. I guarantee it.”

  As he said that he looked at his two fellow Flag Officers, and they nodded. Howard continued.

  “Okay, we’ve read your reports, of course. I was particularly impressed with the gamut of your recommendations. You’ve covered everything from short-range weapons, to new ship types, to thoughts on grand strategy. You can both rest assured that our planning staffs will be taking a hard look at all of your recommendations. But what I want to hear from you now is your thoughts on priorities. If you were the Chief of Space Operations, what would you recommend to the Oversight Committee? Commander Shiloh, why don’t you start off?”

  Shiloh nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He paused to collect his thoughts.

  “I look at what the initial situation was when 319 encountered the aliens. I see on the one side a single vessel designed for exploration with minimal armor and modest weapons. On the other side I see multiple vessels that seem to be designed for combat. What I can’t see is any rationale for the aliens to feel at all threatened by 319’s presence. They had numerical superiority. If anyone had a right to feel threatened, it was the 319, and we know that our standing orders specifically require our exploration frigates to attempt peaceful contact regardless of the relative balance of force. And yet the aliens attacked 319, and then used her as bait. That tells me that they didn’t just react out of fear. It suggests strongly that they knew exactly what they were doing and had planned for that eventuality in advance. That kind of aggressive attitude is what you would expect from a barbarian horde like the old Mongol invaders. They weren’t interested in peaceful exploration, only conquest. If that’s the kind of model that they’re following, and I think we have to assume that it is, then they’ll keep on coming at us no matter what. With that as the scenario in mind, I think we need to do the following right away.”

  He started counting on the fingers of his left hand.

  “First. There should be a crash program to design and deploy drones that pack a bigger punch. I was able to use our existing recon drones because they had built up enough velocity to be destructive, even though they weren’t designed with that purpose in mind. Our ships may not have the time to build up velocities like that in future confrontations. We should develop drones that have explosive warheads, kinetic energy warheads, as well as decoy drones and electronic countermeasure drones. They should be simple to make and therefore easy to mass-produce. Smaller drones would mean that our frigates would be able to carry more of them.

  “Second. Our ships have to have more armor protection. I realize that Exploration Frigates weren’t designed for this kind of combat, but they’re all we have right now. We need to modify them quickly so that they have at least a chance of lasting long enough to be able to fight back. We may not even have to add armor to the whole ship. It may be enough in the short run to just add armor to the more critical areas of the hulls, like the Bridge, Engine
ering, Weapon Turrets, Life Support and Tactical Systems.

  “Third. If we’re going to go back out there, we should try to achieve numerical superiority ourselves. That means one or more squadrons operating together. It also means developing and practicing multiple ship combat tactics. Up until now we’ve never had to worry about that and therefore haven’t trained for it.

  “Fourth. We need to establish an early warning network of passive sensor satellites in key systems so that we have advanced warning of where they are and how many of them there are. That way we can concentrate our strength, such as it is, to the greatest advantage.

  “Fifth.” He paused for effect. “The whole culture of the Space Force has to be changed. Up until now we’ve been an interstellar police force concerned with exploration and anti-piracy/anti-smuggling operations. If we’re going up against the barbarian hordes, we have to start thinking and acting like an elite fighting force. That means developing the killer instinct, and identifying those officers who have a knack for strategy and tactics.”