by Tori Harris
“Wise? Hell no, it’s not wise, but we’re pretty much up against it, in case you hadn’t noticed, Captain,” Patterson growled. He paused and took a deep breath, then softened his expression a bit before continuing. “Look, I understand your hesitation, Tom, but Ingenuity may be out of action for a couple of weeks or more. As I said earlier, you’re my only crew that has seen combat, and that still counts for quite a bit in my book. You could say that all of our ships have green crews at this point, so I’m still better off putting your crew in an unfamiliar ship than having you cooling your heels at Yucca while we’re being attacked by the Resistance, God forbid. Besides, a major design element of both the Theseus and Ingenuity classes was what the engineers referred to as ‘mod/com,’ which refers to modularity and commonality. The idea was that if you were trained up in one, you were essentially trained up in both. That interchangeability concept is also one of the main reasons we have been able to produce four separate ship designs so quickly — and build out all four designs at each of our three primary shipyards. Now I’m not going to stand here and tell you that Ingenuity and Theseus are exactly the same ship, but there should be enough in common between the two for your folks to feel at home pretty quickly. That’s especially true since more than half of your crew will have already had quite a bit of time to prepare in the sim.”
“Shut up and say ‘Thank you Admiral,’ before he changes his mind, Tom,” Captain Davis laughed, struggling not to be jealous of his friend lucking into yet another plum, independent command.
“Thank you, Admiral,” Prescott laughed. “We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
“I suspect you will, Captain,” Patterson chuckled. “As soon as you are on the ground at Yucca, there should be a shuttle waiting to transport Admiral Naftur to HQ for a quick debriefing with Admirals Sexton and White before the Guardian ‘induction’ call at 1000 Zulu. I want you to get Reynolds and Logan started on their tasks, then get yourself on a shuttle to HQ as well. The quicker you can get there, the better. I’m certain you can provide some additional insight that will be valuable to the Commander in Chief.”
“Understood, sir. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now. Don’t forget I also want that ‘lessons learned’ document within twenty-four hours. I’m mainly just looking for you to provide our commanders with a high level assessment of the most important things they need to know if they find themselves in a scrap with a Resistance ship. Otherwise, just keep in mind that there isn’t a moment to be lost. I need you and Admiral Naftur aboard the Theseus and back in space yesterday. Questions?”
“None, sir, thank you.”
“Good luck, Tom.”
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(0003 UTC — Leadership Council Meeting Chamber)
In the two and a half hours since the Guardian’s arrival, Karoline Crull, Chairwoman of Terran Fleet Command’s Leadership Council, had managed to assemble twelve of fifteen members for an emergency session. It was, in fact, unusual for such a large percentage of the membership to be available on such short notice for an on-site meeting. Since the Sajeth Collective incursion nearly a month prior, however, the Council had been in more or less continuous session. As was customary for important meetings such as this one, the representatives who could not attend in person participated via vidcon, their images displayed on large view screens situated on either side of the chamber. At the front of the room, Crull called the session to order from her perch behind an extravagantly carved, mahogany lectern situated atop a massive, two-level dais. Much to her annoyance, the largest view screen, situated in the center of the chamber immediately behind her lectern, currently displayed the careworn face of Admiral Duke Sexton, Commander in Chief, Terran Fleet Command.
“Before we can get started addressing the historic events that require our immediate and undivided attention, I agreed to allow Admiral Sexton a moment to register a concern,” she began, speaking as if she was referring to an errant child who was interrupting a serious discussion between adults. “Admiral?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Sexton replied, ignoring her condescending tone. “I know that the Council is accustomed to utilizing secure vidcon so that off-site members have the opportunity to attend sessions remotely, but until further notice, I urge you to secure this meeting chamber and terminate all electronic emissions. That includes vidcon streams as well as both official and personal communications devices.”
On the floor of the meeting chamber, there was a general murmur as some members discussed the Admiral’s seemingly radical suggestion among themselves, while others consulted their respective corporate and governmental sponsors in an effort to determine how they were expected to respond. The Council chamber itself looked much more like a collection of fourteen miniature command centers than it did a traditional governmental meeting facility. Each representative was afforded a large workspace, complete with multiple computer monitors fronting state of the art computing resources designed to provide instantaneous communications with their various constituencies around the world. Like so many political representatives throughout Human history, members of the Leadership Council tended to serve many masters. Unfortunately, rather than striving to represent the will of the citizens they were sent here to represent, many had become nothing more than a mouthpiece for powerful special interests.
Crull waited for most of the conversations taking place in the room to die down before continuing. “Obviously, this would be a significant and disruptive departure from how we have always conducted business in the past, so I’m going to open the floor to questions for the admiral,” she said, thinking that her fellow Council members would quickly dismiss his foolish suggestion out of hand without her ever needing to commit herself one way or another. “The Chair recognizes the representative from the European Union.”
Lisbeth Kistler, the distinguished-looking fifty-year-old representative from Germany, was one of the few in the room who tended to make up her own mind rather than being issued an opinion by unseen functionaries thousands of kilometers away. She was also one of the only members who still strongly believed in adhering to traditional forms of etiquette during formal meetings. She stood and paused momentarily, allowing the room to go completely silent before speaking. “Thank you, Madame Chairwoman. Good morning, Admiral Sexton. As I’m sure you can appreciate, many of us rely heavily on secure communications during Council session for a variety of purposes. Would you please explain for us why this change is necessary?”
“Good morning, Councilwoman Kistler. Yes, ma’am, I would be happy to. Although we have no way of knowing for sure, the latest Fleet Intelligence Estimate provides compelling evidence that these Guardian spacecraft have demonstrated the ability to eavesdrop on encrypted communications. I am not able to go into much additional detail since doing so in this insecure setting could have unpredictable results where the Pelarans are concerned.”
“You are, of course, referring to intelligence obtained from our new quote, unquote ‘allies,’ the Sajeth Collective,” Crull interrupted in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “These are the same quote, unquote ‘allies,’ who appear to be on their way to attack the Earth at this very moment, are they not?”
Two years ago, Crull had been appointed as the Central and South American Union’s representative to finish out the final six weeks of her late husband’s term. The largely symbolic appointment had been intended as a statement of sympathy and support for a grieving widow as well as recognition of her husband’s long and distinguished career. No one had expected Crull to ever actually attend a Leadership Council meeting, much less insist on taking over immediately as Chairwoman. Nor had anyone expected that her far-reaching connections would allow her to be elected for a follow-on five-year term in the powerful role.
“Madame Chairwoman, I think it prudent to avoid references to classified information until we resolve this matter,” Councilwoman Kistler interjected in an effort to regain control of the floor. Cr
ull scowled, waving her hand dismissively by way of reply, thus allowing the conversation to proceed.
“Again, I urge the Leadership Council to secure the meeting chamber and terminate all electronic emissions,” Sexton continued, unfazed by the chairwoman’s all too typical bullying tactics. “Our ships have likewise been ordered to cease all classified communications until further notice. I can largely guarantee the security of our network resources located here at TFC Headquarters, but there is simply no way I can do the same for external connections.”
“Members of the Council,” Kistler began again after a brief pause to consider the admiral’s request, “I believe we would all prefer to have every one of our fifteen members available for these discussions, and we would also prefer to have access to our usual communications channels to our various constituencies. On the other hand, we do have a quorum present in the chamber and, as Chairwoman Crull mentioned, we are in the midst of historic, and potentially very dangerous events. To my knowledge, none of our esteemed members are experts on matters of secure communications. So, under the circumstances, I’d like to make a motion that we follow Admiral Sexton’s counsel without further discussion.”
“Second!” several other members responded immediately.
“Oh very well,” Crull replied, pausing to take a deep breath in a vain attempt to hide her contempt. She made a quick mental note that Kistler’s insolence would require an appropriate response at some point in the future before continuing, “Votes will be recorded by electronic device.”
Within thirty seconds, ten of the fifteen members had voted in favor of securing the room. Not surprisingly, three of the five “no” votes were from the Council members who were not present in the meeting chamber — and all three happened to be political allies of the chairwoman.
“The motion passes,” she sighed. “Before we continue, I’d like to apologize to our three esteemed colleagues who will now be prevented, unnecessarily in my view, from representing their member nations until they can physically return to Fleet Headquarters. I urge each of you to return as quickly as possible.” Crull then glared around the meeting chamber, shaking her head as if it was necessary to further underscore her opinion on the matter. “The sergeant at arms will secure the room. Admiral Sexton, please have your people do whatever it is they propose to do.”
On the giant view screen in the front of the room, Admiral Sexton nodded to a Fleet security specialist off-camera. In seconds, the three view screens displaying vidcons with remote members went blank as all external network connectivity was terminated. For the first time in the brief history of Terran Fleet Command, the Leadership Council would now be forced to make their own decisions rather than relying on the faceless bureaucrats and power brokers lurking behind the scenes.
Chapter 3
TFS Ingenuity, Earth Orbit
Knowing that both he and his crew were about to once again be under the pressure of an extremely aggressive, if not downright unreasonable, schedule, Prescott had signaled ahead for his XO and chief engineer to meet his returning shuttle on Ingenuity’s flight deck. As the frigate’s AI once again sounded the boatswain’s call and announced “Ingenuity, arriving,” the shuttle’s rear cargo door slowly descended to reveal Commanders Reynolds and Logan anxiously awaiting his return. Both officers saluted smartly as their captain stood and headed for the Sherpa’s exit.
“Have I got a surprise for the two of you,” he chuckled, returning their salute before hopping off the still-descending cargo ramp.
“You seem to be in better spirits, sir,” Reynolds smiled, shaking her head, “but I’m over surprises at this point.”
“Don’t pay any attention to her, Captain,” Logan laughed, “she can’t get enough of ‘em, so go ahead and lay it on us.”
“Alright, walk with me. We’re in a hurry, as usual,” Prescott said, taking off in the direction of the corridor leading to the command section at his usual brisk pace.
“Now that’s not a surprise,” Reynolds replied, following in his wake.
“Oh, before I forget to tell you both, Admiral Patterson has asked for a short background summary of lessons learned during our trip to Gliese 667, particularly items related to combat operations. He wants it ready to send out to the entire fleet by this time tomorrow. All three of us are going to be plenty busy, but I need some help getting it done.”
“That should be pretty easy,” Reynolds said. “I’ve got most of what we’ll need in my notes, so I’ll take the task if the two of you will just send me anything specific you want included.”
“Great, thank you, Commander.” After a few more steps, Prescott stopped in the middle of the corridor and faced his two most senior officers, having decided that the important part of what he needed to tell them was probably not appropriate to deliver over his shoulder while they walked. “OK, here’s the deal,” he began. “The repairs and additional work Fleet wants to complete on Ingenuity are expected to take at least two weeks, maybe longer.”
“Seriously? Why do they think that?” Logan replied, incredulous. “I don’t know of anything we can’t get done within three or four days … maybe a week, tops.”
“I understand, Commander, but apparently they have a number of follow-on changes they are planning to make and believe this is a reasonable time to do the work since she will already be at Yucca for repairs. You do, of course, also remember that we took quite a bit of weapons fire, including a glancing blow from a nuke at Gliese 667, right?”
“Right,” Logan laughed, pausing as he realized that he had indeed forgotten that rather important bit of information for a moment. “There is that, but this still doesn’t seem to be an appropriate time for a major refurb and overhaul — not considering everything that’s going on.”
“We’re also combat-ready, Captain,” Reynolds said, “and this ship is the logical choice for helping Admiral Naftur try to head off an attack from the Resistance.”
“And the only large C-Drive-equipped ship … that I know of, at least,” Logan added.
“I know, I know,” Prescott replied, raising both hands in mock surrender to the logic of their points while also giving himself an opportunity to continue. “Both of you just relax and hear me out. Admiral Patterson agrees with you — at least in part — and that’s why he has ordered us to take Ingenuity to Yucca Mountain, get the repairs underway, and then transfer our crew to TFS Theseus. I need the two of you to get her crewed, supplied, and ready to fly as quickly as possible. Unless something else changes, we will depart as soon as Admiral Naftur and I return from TFC Headquarters.”
Both officers stared at their captain in silence as if he had truly and irrevocably lost his mind.
SCS Gunov, Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
There was a brief distortion in the starfield followed by a flash of gray light as SCS Gunov, nominal flagship of the Pelaran Resistance task force, arrived at the designated staging area for the first time. Wek captain and self-proclaimed commodore Naveen Sarafi was gratified to see that twenty-three other vessels had already arrived, including two additional destroyers of the same Gresav-class as his flagship. While most of the warships were older and less advanced in many ways, the remaining twenty-one vessels included seventeen Shopak-class heavy cruisers as well as four Rusalov-class battleships. The four battleships alone carried more than sufficient firepower to all but extinguish life on a world as small as Terra. This assumed, of course, that they could actually survive long enough — and fire their weapons long enough — to complete the type of attack for which they had been designed.
The Sajeth Collective relied almost exclusively on warships both designed and built on the Wek homeworld of Graca. Citing reliability problems as well as a desire to reduce the need for onboard munitions storage, they had all but eliminated kinetic energy weapons from their most recent designs — including the Gresav destroyer, Keturah BD cruiser, and Baldev battleship classes. This had been a grave mist
ake, in Captain Sarafi’s opinion … and an ironic one, given that their own shields were still somewhat vulnerable to just such weapons. Even if they were no longer strictly necessary for ship to ship engagements, there were still situations where planetary bombardment was necessary, regardless of how “civilized” the other members of the Sajeth Collective might fancy themselves. While standoff nuclear missile attacks could certainly achieve the same result, the missiles themselves were relatively slow and easily intercepted by any species advanced enough to warrant an attack in the first place. Directed energy weapons, while still capable of doing a great deal of damage to specific targets from orbit, were not a practical choice as a strategic-level weapon of mass destruction. No, when a large-scale, planet-wide attack was the objective, there was simply no substitute for heavy bombardment with near relativistic kinetic energy weapons. Fortunately, the majority of the thirty-three-ship task force Sarafi hoped to ultimately have at his disposal were well-suited for precisely that mission.
Sarafi felt a chill run down the length of his spine as he briefly considered what it might be like to be on the receiving end of a large-scale orbital bombardment. In fact, under most other scenarios he could imagine, completely destroying a relatively advanced civilization would amount to the ultimate in immoral acts. Even putting all ethical considerations aside, such an attack was a tremendous waste of natural resources and habitable land mass, since the planet itself would likely be rendered uninhabitable for decades, perhaps even centuries, to come. In Sarafi’s mind, however, just as with most other members of the Pelaran Resistance, this line of thought seemed to always end with a sense of hopeless inevitability — they have left us no choice … we have a right to defend ourselves … this is our last chance … at least the end will come quickly for the Humans.
