by Tori Harris
“It really does feel that way from the ship’s perspective, I know. Frankly, I’m not looking forward to trying it with the carrier Jutland, but the truth is that there are safeguards on top of safeguards, and an abort is possible throughout the whole process. In any event, unless you end up doing one of those while we are actually under attack, Fleet only requires each ship to practice it one time. That brings me to the reason for my call. I will not be able to meet you at Berth Nine, but I understand that you and Admiral Naftur require transportation to Headquarters.”
“Yes, we do. Admiral Naftur is prepared to depart immediately. He will require a couple of Marine troopers in full combat gear as an escort. After I assist my XO and chief engineer with beginning the transition to Theseus, I’ll be on my way as well.” Prescott’s mind registered the sound of several of his bridge crew shifting in their seats at his last statement.
“Twenty meters,” Ensign Fisher reported in the background.
“I’ll see to it. On a much more somber note, my sincerest condolences for the three members of your crew who were lost during the battle at Gliese 667. Fleet has a team standing by to make all of the arrangements for their services. They will coordinate with both you and Dr. Chen, but I believe the ceremony will occur sometime tomorrow.”
The extreme level of activity since the battle took place had allowed Prescott to prevent the deaths of three very young members of his crew from completely dominating his every thought. Like every leader throughout history who had lost men and women serving under their command, however, he had already begun to struggle with the inevitable question of what he could have done differently that might have prevented their deaths. “Thank you,” was all that he managed to say before quickly forcing his mind back to dealing with the multitude of tasks at hand.
“My XO will be at your disposal to assist your folks in making their transition and getting Theseus ready to depart. Welcome back to Yucca Mountain. Oshiro out.”
“Five meters … touchdown,” Fisher reported. The sound of the ship’s six massive landing struts compressing under her weight could be heard as the frigate settled onto the landing platform.
“All hands, this is the XO,” Reynolds announced over the comm system. “Secure from General Quarters. Power down non-essential systems and prep the ship for maintenance crews. All department heads are to meet on the flight deck at 0200 Zulu. Good job everyone. Reynolds out.”
Chapter 4
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(0415 UTC — Leadership Council meeting chamber)
With just under six hours remaining before the expected contact from the Guardian spacecraft, Chairwoman Crull was busily laying the groundwork for how she expected the forthcoming “induction” process should proceed. “Surely, colleagues, we can agree from the outset of this discussion that the Pelarans have already earned our trust,” she said from the meeting chamber lectern. “We now know that they have not only been sharing their knowledge with us for fifty years, but their Guardian spacecraft has actually been here protecting us from the likes of the Sajeth Collective and God knows what else for centuries. During all that time, they have asked for nothing from us in return other than following some simple, common sense rules designed to keep us from destroying ourselves with all of this new technology. I, for one, would like to see us put together a resolution, preferably a unanimous resolution, that officially welcomes the Guardian spacecraft and expresses our gratitude to the Pelaran Alliance for all they have done for us. Let me remind each of you that most of this work has already been completed. Our predecessors who were selected to serve on the very first Leadership Council drafted just such a resolution as one of its earliest official acts, and I would be honored to sponsor it again now as your Chair.”
There was a momentary silence in the room as each member temporarily withheld comment while waiting to see how the others would react. “Will the Chair yield for questions?” asked the delegate from the United States.
“Of course, although what I have said so far seems beyond question to me,” Crull replied, forcing a smile. The Chair recognizes the Councilman from the U.S.”
It took a moment for Samuel Christenson to free his over-two-meter-tall frame from behind his work center desk. As was his habit, he walked to the center of the meeting chamber immediately forward of the other members while keeping his distance from the lofty dais in the front of the room. The current chairwoman had personally ordered construction of the elaborate rostrum, which was something her husband would never have tolerated.
The whole concept of the Council was supposed to be one of open cooperation among equal peers — a working group with an eminently practical mission, rather than a hierarchical, bureaucratic throwback from centuries past. The idea that the chairmanship was being purposely transformed into some sort of dictatorial overseer was, in Christenson’s view, not only offensive, but also potentially dangerous. Although the group had no authority as an international governing body, per se, it did make decisions regarding the dissemination of Pelaran technological data … implying that it wielded tremendous influence over governmental and corporate interests worldwide. In fact, one could argue that Terran Fleet Command’s Leadership Council was the first truly effective global, quasi-governmental organization. The United Nations, which had never been truly global and certainly never accused of being effective, had finally dissolved during the worldwide debt crisis of the mid twenty-first century. Fortunately, breakthroughs in fusion power had shortly thereafter marked the beginning of a long period of global economic growth and prosperity, during which there was little motivation to create yet another monolithic, governmental assembly. This attitude had changed rapidly with the first receipt of ETSI data in 2229, however, as the nations of the world realized that there was simply no way to fully benefit from the Pelaran data unless they were willing to cooperate — on an unprecedented, global scale.
Christenson always faced the Chair when speaking directly to her, but then turned his back on her to address the other thirteen members on the floor of the chamber. He was never sure whether this bit of subtle theater was lost on the other Council members, but he was absolutely certain that it infuriated the esteemed chairwoman, who expected all debate be directed to her as if she were a queen at court. “Madame Chairwoman, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that we have all benefited greatly from the technological bounty that the Pelarans have literally rained down upon us like manna from Heaven,” he began with a disarming smile before turning to face the other ten representatives currently present on the chamber floor, “but surely any declarations that give the appearance of committing our planet one way or another are premature, to say the least.”
Even with only ten other members on the floor of the chamber, there was a general commotion in the room, including a few rather raucous exclamations of both support and disapproval. “Quiet please, everyone!” Crull said, pounding the gavel and raising her voice to the shrill monotone that had become something of a trademark of hers when speaking publicly. “I will not allow this Council to degenerate into some sort of political free-for-all. Now, Councilman, I know you still have the floor, but surely you’re not asking us to rehash this particular debate. Our predecessors decided nearly fifty years ago how we would respond when the Pelarans made first contact. Don’t you think it’s a little arrogant to imply that our current membership is somehow more qualified than they were to craft Earth’s response?”
“Councilwoman Crull …”
“That’s Chairwoman Crull,” she interrupted.
“My apologies, Madame Chairwoman,” he continued, gratified that he had once again goaded her into showing her true colors. “I don’t think it’s a matter of second-guessing our honorable predecessors. We do, however, have the benefit of fifty years of history to inform our decisions — particularly everything that has happened over the past month. There is no way they could have anticipated the situation we find ourselves in today. Also, since I appea
r to have placed myself in the position of once again bringing controversial items back to the table, there is still the unresolved issue of whether this body even has the authority to make such decisions or speak on behalf of the entire planet.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed over the uproar that had once again erupted from the chamber floor, “that’s not bringing up a controversial issue, Sam, that’s beating the deadest of dead horses.”
“That’s Councilman Christenson,” he smirked, turning momentarily so that only she could see his face.
“Of course, Councilman, and I suppose you propose that the mighty United States of America should be the sole arbiter of who communicates with the Guardian spacecraft and what will be said when they do.”
“I would never propose such a thing, Madame Chair, as you know very well. I do believe very strongly, however, that the presumption that this body has the authority to act almost in the capacity of a world government falls well outside the bounds of our charter.”
“Oh, here we go. I wondered how long it would take for you to toss some red meat to the ‘one world government’ conspiracy theorists.”
“Point of Order, Chairwoman Crull, but you yielded the floor.”
“For a question, Councilman, not a political speech.”
“Fair enough,” he smiled, trying to maintain a positive air in spite of Crull’s typically derisive tone, “but this is by no means a settled issue. And now that we find ourselves only a few hours from being forced by events into communicating with the Pelarans, or at least their spacecraft, I hope we can all agree that acting with an abundance of caution is in our world’s best interest. Committing ourselves one way or another at this point seems both unnecessary and reckless, in my opinion.”
Crull pounded the gavel against its sounding block as the room once again dissolved into chaotic debate.
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(Office of the CINCTFC)
“Welcome, Admiral Naftur, I’m Tonya White — Admiral Sexton’s Chief of Naval Intelligence,” the CNI greeted warmly with an outstretched hand. “I am so sorry that we were delayed and could not meet your shuttle to receive you properly. I assure you that such lapses in protocol are not the norm at TFC Headquarters.”
Although there actually had been a hastily prepared honor guard present, along with a pair of captains thrown in for good measure, Terran Fleet Command’s Admiralty staff had been conspicuously absent when Admiral Rugali Naftur’s shuttle arrived from the Yucca Mountain Shipyard. After a brief ceremony, where the mostly unnecessary apologies had begun in earnest, the Wek admiral had been escorted into the main Headquarters building, then ushered into Admiral Sexton’s outer office by his ever-present Marine guards.
Naftur paused, taking advantage of the translation delay to notice the striking appearance of the female Terran officer as he shook her hand. “Not at all, Admiral White,” he smiled. “Indeed, my shuttle was met with a level of ceremony reserved for heads of state on my world. I am deeply honored and grateful for your courtesy, but I understand the gravity of the situation we now find ourselves in, so I beg that you will not trouble with additional formalities.”
“You are too kind, sir. Just let me assure you that you are most welcome here, and if you can bear with us while we work our way through today’s rather, uh, unusual events, I believe I can promise you the attention your visit deserves.” Tonya shot the admiral her best smile, which he enthusiastically returned in kind, along with a deep rumble from within his massive chest that seemed to indicate that he was … happy? — pleased? — maybe something that doesn’t even translate. I’m not entirely sure which, she thought, inwardly amused. White had spent enough time in the company of their other Wek guest, Ambassador Nenir Turlaka, to understand that their species didn’t just wear their emotions on their proverbial sleeves, they actually communicated them nonverbally in a variety of ways … the cat-like purrs and growls being White’s personal favorite. Although she had found their openness a little unsettling at first, she now saw it as a refreshing change of pace compared to the thinly veiled emotions Humans pretended to conceal from each other. In any event, she couldn’t help feeling slightly embarrassed and unsure what to say next, so she was relieved when Admiral Sexton entered the room.
“Admiral Naftur — Duke Sexton,” he said, also offering his hand. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”
“Admiral Sexton, I am pleased to meet you as well, and the honor is entirely mine. Young Captain Prescott asked me to inform you that he will join us in a few hours. I have been impressed with him from our first meeting, but his performance in battle at Gliese 667 was nothing short of exceptional. If he is any indication of the quality of your officer corps, then Terran Fleet Command is a formidable force, indeed.”
“That is quite a compliment. Thank you, sir. The situation here has been changing so rapidly that I have not had time to fully digest the details of the battle, but I look forward to having the opportunity to do so. I trust Admiral White apologized for our absence at your arrival? I regret the unfortunate timing on our part, but, as you can imagine, our Leadership Council has been in emergency session since immediately after the Guardian spacecraft arrived. They have kept our entire Admiralty staff fully engaged since then, and I suspect this trend will continue for some time. If you would like to step into my office, we will try to make up for our bad manners with some good food.” Sexton beckoned Admiral Naftur towards the sitting area on one side of his inner office, dismissing the two Marine guards to the hallway with a nod.
“I suspect there will be precious little opportunity for sleep in your immediate future, let alone ceremony,” Naftur said, taking his seat with a sympathetic smile, “so I will likewise dispense with formalities and proceed with the purpose of my visit. Please interrupt me at any time if something is unclear, or if you need additional explanation.”
“Excellent,” Sexton replied, nodding. “We are deeply grateful for your assistance. Please continue, sir.”
“There are three primary areas where I believe I can provide some meaningful, and hopefully actionable, information,” Naftur began. “The first thing I would like to do is provide you with some background information regarding the so-called ‘Pelaran Resistance’ task force. While there is a certain degree of supposition involved, I have a general idea of the makeup of their forces. Assuming my guesses are largely accurate, I believe I can offer you some idea of their military capabilities as well as their most likely strategy for conducting an attack on Terra.”
“That information alone will leave us deeply in your debt, Admiral.”
“Unfortunately, Admiral Sexton, the challenges your world faces at the moment are manifold,” he replied in a mournful, guttural tone. “It is my hope, however, that we may yet be able to locate the Resistance warships while they are still in the process of assembling their forces. If we can do so, I believe I may have some hope of averting the attack altogether.”
“I have no doubt of your sincerity, Admiral Naftur,” White began, “but surely these vessels could be just about anywhere. How could you possibly hope to locate their staging area?”
“It would seem so, Admiral White, but this is one of the few circumstances that fall in our favor at the moment. The majority of ships the Resistance is likely to have at their disposal have been commandeered from regions of Sajeth Collective space where the threat of military action is minimal. In many cases, these are older ships nearing the end of their service lifespans, but still useful for missions such as regional patrol or what you might refer to as ‘peacekeeping.’ Please do not misunderstand the intent of my words here. What these ships lack where modern propulsion or shielding systems are concerned, they more than make up for in terms of raw firepower. In the hands of a competent task force commander, these vessels represent a serious threat, particularly when paired with the command and control systems available on the more modern vessels. Make no mistake, the combined resources of this task
force are more than capable of mounting a truly devastating attack on Terra. Having said all of that, when most of these vessels were constructed, the state of the art in hyperspace navigation was much less advanced than it is today. At the time, Wek starships relied on standardized navigational pathways defined by a variety of stellar phenomena such as the X-ray emissions from pulsars. This provided the accuracy they needed to avoid unfortunate events … transitioning from hyperspace within the interior of a star, for example.”
Although never actually employed as a primary means of navigation on Terran spacecraft, the idea that the clock-like regularity of pulsar emissions could be used in such a way had occurred to Humans as well. During the late twentieth century, Pioneer 10 and 11 as well as both Voyager space probes included a pulsar-based “we are here” map. The drawing featured fifteen lines from a common origin, fourteen of which included binary representations of the unique emissions from specific pulsars. The length of each of the fourteen lines provided the relative distance from each pulsar to Sol, while the fifteenth line indicated Sol’s distance to the center of the galaxy. A number of scientists had argued that providing a road map to our homeworld might eventually turn out to be a bad idea. Physicist Stephen Hawking was even quoted as saying that an alien visit to Earth would have likely resulted in an outcome similar to Christopher Columbus landing in America … which hadn’t turned out very well for the Native Americans.
“So are you saying that these vessels are forced to follow somewhat predictable flight paths?” Sexton asked.
“With an understanding of how their navigation systems were designed as well as the stellar cartography of the region near the destination, yes. A few of these older vessels will likely be traveling to the rally point alone. Since the Sajeth Collective assumes that your world has at least some level of monitoring and early warning capabilities deployed within the boundaries of the system, it is unlikely they will gather their forces less than two light years from Sol. On the other hand, they will also seek to minimize the distance required for their final approach and attack.”
