by Tori Harris
The stars on the main bridge view screen slewed to port as the Gunov oriented herself with respect to the other assembled ships in the Resistance task force. As the starfield stabilized on the screen, a bright yellowish-white star caught Sarafi’s attention near the right side of the display. Using the touchscreen at his command chair, he selected the star, which was immediately surrounded by a red square and accompanied by a descriptive block of text on both screens. At the top of the text block appeared the star’s rather simplistic name: “Sol.”
TFS Ingenuity
(On approach to the Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility)
Although it had been less than a month since Ingenuity’s first landing at the Yucca Mountain Shipyard, the security situation had changed dramatically during the intervening weeks. Gone were the previous attempts to conceal the ship’s ultimate destination using a clever approach profile coupled with low-level routing. Instead, the frigate executed a more traditional, low-powered descent from orbit that took her relatively close to the city of Los Angeles.
While Pelaran-derived technologies were now beginning to provide significant improvements in mass transportation on a global scale, the American love affair with the automobile continued unabated. Even with mandatory AI control of all vehicles traveling on interstate highways, today’s evening rush hour on the 405 had transformed a thirty-kilometer stretch of the freeway from Los Alamitos to LAX into a twelve-lane-wide parking lot. Even though there had been no public announcement regarding a flyover, Ingenuity’s relatively low altitude of ten kilometers coupled with the thunderous echoes of her double sonic booms made the ship difficult to miss. Along the freeway, and indeed throughout the South Bay area, people stopped what they were doing to catch a glimpse of the now familiar ship.
“Alright, everyone, we’ve done this once before, but it’s certainly not something we want to treat as routine, right, Ensign Fisher?” Prescott said, working to keep his bridge crew engaged and highly alert as the ship made its final approach.
“Yes, sir,” Fisher replied without taking his eyes off the Helm console, “but I’m actually hoping for something a little more routine than last time.”
“Lieutenant Dubashi, have we received final clearance from Yucca?”
“Yes, Captain, we are cleared for landing. Course plotted and transferred to the Helm console. We are receiving autolanding cues from Yucca Mountain. I’ve transferred the profile to your Command console for approval.”
“Very good, thank you,” he replied, pulling up the detailed approach and landing profile on his touchscreen. Prescott took a moment to review the proposed routing as well as the landing sequence after reaching the shipyard itself. “Now that is certainly not what I expected,” he said, quickly transferring the approach plate to Commander Reynolds’ touchscreen. “They have us sequenced for a maximum performance approach and landing. It’s the kind of thing they might do if the facility were about to be under attack and they needed to get the ship on the ground as quickly as possible.”
“I remember one of the techs talking about the AI being able to handle ‘combat landings,’ but I haven’t seen any of the details,” she replied, scanning the details of the approach on her screen. “Wow, yeah that’s pretty aggressive. Particularly when you consider what happened during our first attempt at an autolanding.”
“Agreed. Dubashi, get us a vidcon with Yucca Mountain. Use priority one and request Yucca-Actual, if possible.”
“Aye, Captain.”
After a few seconds, Terran Fleet Command’s official service seal appeared in a window on the starboard side of the bridge view screen, accompanied by an announcement from the ship’s AI.
“Warning, Command Authority has deemed all external communications compromised. Fleet vessels and facilities should minimize all forms of wireless communication. No classified information may be transmitted until further notice.”
“Well that’s annoying,” Reynolds grumbled.
“Yeah, I think everyone has the gist at this point. Everyone clear on the intent of that message?” Prescott asked, raising his voice to address the entire bridge crew and receiving an enthusiastic chorus of “yes, sirs” in response. “Excellent. Lieutenant Dubashi, you may acknowledge the AI’s announcement so that it will not be repeated as long as this crew is present on the bridge.”
“Will do, Captain. I now have a vidcon signal from Yucca Mountain.”
“Great. On-screen, please.”
The vidcon window on the bridge view screen was immediately filled by the smiling face of Captain Hiroto Oshiro, Facility Commander, Yucca Mountain Shipyard.
“Yucca-Actual here. Go ahead, Ingenuity.”
“I take it you were expecting our call,” Prescott chuckled.
“I had a hunch we might hear from you, but I was about to contact you anyway to give you a heads up,” Oshiro replied. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be interesting to watch the reactions of a crew experiencing an unexpected combat landing, but the results might end up being, uh, unpredictable.”
“Right, and career-limiting for both of us. We’re on final approach, so we don’t have a lot of time here. Is this really something we want to do right now?”
“Want to, no. Need to, yes. It makes us a little nervous down here as well, especially for the larger ships, but Fleet wants all crews to experience at least one combat-landing sequence. Let me assure you that it’s as safe as we can possibly make it at this point. If something goes wrong, both the facility and the ship’s AIs will immediately terminate the approach.”
“Anything in particular we need to do on our side?”
“Not really, no. Once you approve the approach, you’re really just along for the ride. The goal is to get your ship inside the entrance cavern as quickly as possible so that the external blast doors can be secured behind you. You can expect an aggressive transition to hover right outside the entrance. Once inside, the approach should proceed normally, but without the dramatic ship unveiling you saw last time.”
“That’s good. I think Ensign Fisher may have gotten a little bored with all the drama last time. Thank you, Captain.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem today,” Oshiro smiled. “See you on the ground momentarily, Ingenuity. Yucca out.”
“Approach and landing profile approved,” Prescott announced. “You all know your jobs, so let’s get this done.” With that, he settled back into his command chair, adjusted his shoulder straps for comfort, and lapsed into silence.
Like all good first officers throughout history, Reynolds fully understood that her primary role was ensuring the smooth and efficient operation of the ship and crew. She took great pride in her work and particularly appreciated those occasions when her commanding officer simply stepped aside and allowed things to run without his input. There was simply no greater compliment he could offer her than the assumption that he could trust his ship, his career, and indeed his life, to his executive officer’s capable hands.
“All hands, this is the XO. The ship remains at General Quarters. We will be executing a combat landing with the potential for abrupt course changes and temporary excursions of up to 6 Gs. Crew restraints are mandatory. All personnel should be restrained at this time. Reynolds out.” After her announcement, Reynolds shifted uncomfortably in her shoulder restraints for a moment before realizing the problem. “Lieutenant Lee, it’s feeling a little ‘thick’ in here already, did you dial the grav system up a bit?”
“Yes, ma’am … well … the AI did anyway. The sensitivity increased almost immediately after Captain Prescott approved the approach. This should be about as bad as it will get. The good news is that it should also smooth out the ride quite a bit.”
“Alright, but please keep an eye on it. That heavy feeling makes a lot of people even more uncomfortable than the rough ride would.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
“Lieutenant Dubashi, can you get us a better view of the entrance?” The bridge view screen had been displ
aying the general vicinity of Yucca Mountain for some time, but the direction of the ship’s approach had thus far obscured their final destination.
“From our current position, we don’t have much of a view, Commander, since the entrance tunnel is on the opposite side of the ridge and points east southeast. The facility itself did provide a video stream of the entrance at one time, though. That’s assuming it hasn’t been discontinued because of all the security concerns,” Dubashi replied, zooming the center portion of the bridge view screen to display the southwestern side of the Yucca Mountain ridge line.
“Great, bring it up if you can. I think we can safely assume that it’s okay for us to access the feed if it’s still available.”
With a few quick keystrokes at her console, Dubashi reconfigured the bridge view screen to display the ship’s perspective on the left, accompanied by a live video stream of the entrance itself on the right. “There it is, Commander.”
“That’s perfect, thank you. It still amazes me that they’ve managed to make something that huge nearly invisible. You really can’t even see the outline of the doors unless you know exactly what you’re looking for.”
“Commander, we are approaching the initial point specified on the approach plate for our final descent to the shipyard entrance,” Ensign Fisher reported from the Helm console. “Gravitic fields now set at thirty percent mass. All systems in the green.”
“Thank you, Ensign. Everyone stay sharp, it’s about to get interesting,” Reynolds said.
Ingenuity had maintained a shallow descent since crossing the California coastline just five minutes earlier. Now, having reached the final segment of the approach, the ship still had a ground speed of nearly twenty-five-hundred kilometers per hour at an altitude of only fifteen-hundred meters. Late afternoon visitors to the Area 51 Travel Center, less than six kilometers away, were treated to a tremendous sonic boom as the ship headed north over the floor of the Amargosa Valley.
“Initial point reached. Ship will clear facility blast doors in three zero seconds,” Ingenuity’s AI announced, automatically displaying a graphical depiction of the approach with a countdown timer on the view screen beneath the video feed of the still-closed shipyards doors.
“Commander, this is making me a little nervous,” Fisher said from the Helm console. “We’re only fifteen kilometers away and still at Mach two, but the doors haven’t even started opening yet. Does that seem right to you?”
“I think we’re fine so far,” Prescott soothed. “The idea is to minimize the ship’s exposure and the amount of time the blast doors are open. The AI will handle the timing.”
“Warning, prepare for a maximum performance turn accompanied by rapid deceleration in zero five seconds,” the AI announced.
On the right side of the view screen, nearly forty acres of mountainside sank several meters below the surface as the blast doors began their opening cycle.
“It takes over thirty seconds for those doors to open,” Dubashi noted from the Comm console.
“Good thing we won’t need them to be all the way open,” Fisher replied with a nervous laugh.
“Warning, initiate Anti-G Straining Maneuver to prevent G-induced loss of consciousness,” the AI announced.
With the onset of heavy G-forces now imminent, each member of the crew tightened the skeletal muscles in their arms, legs, and abdomens, then increased pressure in their respiratory tracts by saying the word “hick,” while bearing down for a few seconds before sucking in a quick breath and repeating the process. The Anti-G Straining Maneuver (AGSM) served to prevent blood from being forced away from the brain into the extremities, which otherwise resulted in symptoms that progressed rapidly from greyout and tunnel vision to a complete blackout and loss of consciousness, or G-LOC. As entertaining as it was to watching an entire bridge crew performing the AGSM on video after safely returning to the ground, the technique was highly effective at preventing G-LOC and the potentially dangerous convulsions and incapacitation that often followed. Seasoned fighter pilots routinely pulled 9 Gs or more, but Fleet starships generally limited their AIs to 6 Gs, except during emergency situations. Without the AGSM, however, even three to five Gs was sufficient to cause loss of consciousness, particularly when there was an unexpected, rapid onset. For this reason, the ship’s AI provided a warning to the crew whenever possible.
As the countdown timer on the view screen reached fifteen seconds, Ingenuity banked hard to port, lining the ship up on an extended centerline to the shipyard’s entrance cavern. The ship itself was capable of handling incredible G loads without sustaining damage, but keeping its Human passengers from being crushed in the process was a significant challenge. Accordingly, the ship’s AI monitored a mind-boggling array of parameters, continuously adjusting control inputs and thrust from its sublight engines in concert with inertial dampening to ensure that its occupants never experienced more than 6 Gs. Now aligned both horizontally and vertically with the shipyard’s entrance, the AI reversed the ship’s sublight engines and executed a maximum performance deceleration.
Directly ahead, a small sliver of darkness was now visible between the shipyard’s massive blast doors as the countdown timer on the view screen reached eleven seconds.
“Dubashi, let me know the second that opening is wide enough for us to pass through,” Reynolds gasped, still straining against the force of the ship’s rapid deceleration.
“Aye, Commander. So far just ten meters,” she grunted. “We need eighty-eight meters.”
Ensign Fisher leaned forward at the Helm console, struggling to keep his hands poised above the manual control joystick and throttle, but realizing that it would likely be too late to avoid slamming into the face of the mountain if the doors didn’t open in time.
On the right hand side of the Ingenuity’s bridge view screen, the video feed from Yucca Mountain’s entrance displayed the impressive site of the massive, two-hundred-meter-long ship visibly slowing, but still rapidly approaching the slowly opening blast doors.
As the countdown timer reached six seconds, the window on the left side of the bridge view screen was completely filled with an unsettling, close-up view of the slowly parting blast doors’ camouflaged surface. The space between the doors seemed impossibly small — their parting, maddeningly slow.
Time seemed to grind to a halt on Ingenuity’s bridge as two more seconds ticked by on the view screen timer.
“Ninety meters!” Lieutenant Dubashi yelled. “Oh my God, we may yet live!” she laughed aloud, unconcerned about her military bearing at the moment.
With that, the frigate’s bow passed through the still-opening doors — ultimately reaching a gap of one hundred thirty-two meters to provide a small factor of safety. Before the ship had even cleared the entrance, the doors had reversed direction to begin their close cycle.
Once clear, the AI quickly decelerated as she continued along the gradually downward-sloping entrance cavern. “Ship has cleared facility blast doors,” Ingenuity’s AI announced. “Proceeding to Berth Nine. Expected arrival in zero two minutes.”
Less than ten seconds later, the massive blast doors were once again closed, plunging the ship momentarily into darkness before the entire entrance cavern was flooded with artificial light. The AI continued their trip into the heart of the facility at a steady pace, slowing only after reaching the “roundhouse” area at the center of the ten-kilometer-long shipyard itself.
“Gravitic fields have reached zero mass,” Ensign Fisher reported. “I’ve also got six green indicators on the landing struts. Looks like they aren’t taking any chances for a gear-up landing this time.”
“Glad to hear it,” Prescott replied, gratified to see that his young helmsman appeared to have relaxed a bit and was no longer poised over the manual controls. “Keep an eye on things, Ensign, but I think we’ll be fine from here.”
“Always, sir.”
Prescott got his XO’s attention and quietly said “Theseus,” nodding his head towards Berth
Ten, immediately to starboard of their destination.
Once again the namesake vessel of her class, Theseus had been moved as closely as possible to Ingenuity’s berth so that the transition could proceed as rapidly as possible. The destroyer was similar to the smaller, Ingenuity-class frigates in many respects, but there was some quality about the lines of her hull that provided a much more aggressive — even menacing appearance. While a glance at Ingenuity left little doubt that she was a ship of war, the same design teams had somehow managed to imbue Theseus with an almost intimidating air — as if her very presence were intended to convey an implied threat.
“Wow. She looks a lot more …” Reynolds began.
“Badass,” Fisher interjected, unable to resist the temptation to provide his input.
“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much what I was thinking,” Reynolds chuckled. “Eyes on the road, please, Ensign,” she chided.
“Aye, Commander. Sorry.”
“Captain, incoming vidcon from Captain Oshiro,” Dubashi announced.
“Thank you, Dubashi. On-screen, please.”
After a brief pause, Captain Oshiro once again appeared in a window on the far right side of the bridge view screen.
“Congratulations on your first combat landing, Ingenuities. Everything still in one piece?”
“I’m not going to jinx us on that one until we’re on the ground, Captain. We’ve been here before, if you’ll recall,” Prescott replied under raised eyebrows.
“Ouch,” Oshiro sighed. “I guess I had that coming. Let me put it this way, I’m so confident that the rest of your landing will go smoothly that I’d be one-hundred-percent confident in standing on the concrete platform below your berth during the landing sequence. Well … if it weren’t for getting ripped apart by the grav field, that is.”
“I guess we’ll have to take your word for it at this point. We’ve pretty much been passengers since starting this approach, after all. Everything seemed to go fine during the landing, but I don’t think any of us expected how closely synchronized the timing of the whole thing would be. I’m pretty sure most of us thought we were about to make a big black mark on your front door,” Prescott chuckled.
