The Terran Fleet Command Saga BoxSet

by Tori Harris

  TFC Comm Beacon Deployment Flight “Gamble 22,” Near the Pelaran Resistance Rally Point

  (In hyperspace - 3.3 light years from Earth)

  In the adjacent dimensionality commonly referred to as hyperspace, a single F-373 Reaper had just completed deployment of the first of its payload of five communications beacons. Since it was assumed that the missing Hunter reconnaissance flight must have transitioned into normal space in close proximity to the enemy task force, the corresponding location in hyperspace had been chosen for release of the first comm beacon.

  The pilot relaxed for a moment as he waited for confirmation that the beacon had stabilized and begun the process of synchronizing with the next closest nodes on the NRD network, just over three light years distant. He was in no particular hurry at the moment. There was virtually no chance that his ship would be detected as long as it remained in hyperspace. And since it was critical that all five of the beacons be brought online successfully, it made sense to sit tight at each deployment location and wait for the beacon to come online before moving on.

  That wouldn’t have been an option just a few weeks ago, but the Combat Communications Division of the Fleet Science and Engineering Directorate had reportedly made significant improvements in the beacons’ routing software. Once again managing to improve significantly on the Pelaran-provided design, the developers had introduced an algorithm based on the latest commercially deployed networks in use on Earth. Several beacons released within the solar system with the updated software had shown a nearly tenfold improvement in network convergence time. If the same held true here, real-time communications with the rest of the fleet should be available in a matter of minutes.

  With nothing more than the black void associated with remaining stationary in hyperspace displayed via the ship’s optics, the lieutenant decided to spend a few moments manually cycling through a few of his ship’s other passive sensors. He realized that this activity was largely symbolic, and served more to occupy his own mind than contribute in any meaningful way to what the fighter was already accomplishing without his help. Though the Reaper was designed to carry only a single pilot, it was always understood that the complex task of operating the fighter and its myriad of systems was well beyond the capabilities of a single Human … or several Humans for that matter. Accordingly, the AI was designed to shoulder much of the burden without any assistance whatsoever from the pilot. When direct interaction was required, however, the ship’s user interface behaved in a much more interactive style than those deployed aboard larger Fleet vessels. So while the neural interface provided incredibly efficient communications between ship and pilot during combat, most of their routine interactions were conversational — closely mimicking the manner in which pilots had traditionally worked in concert with a navigator or radar intercept officer (RIO).

  “Anything unusual showing up on the passive array?” the pilot asked aloud.

  “Define ‘unusual,’” the AI answered in a casual, joking tone. “Just about everything we see and do every day is unusual.”

  “Yeah, I guess you got me there,” he laughed. “I was just thinking that it’s entirely possible that we are essentially superimposed at the same location as the Resistance task force ships. We know how to detect ships in hyperspace from normal space using a combination of active sensors, but it would be damned helpful if we could do the same thing from hyperspace using only the passive array.”

  “Indeed it would,” the ship answered in a thoughtful tone. “We, of course, have nothing approaching the sensor capabilities of our larger warships, but if something obvious happens, we should be able to detect it.”

  “Obvious, huh? Well, right back at you, smart guy, you go right ahead and define ‘obvious’ for me,” the lieutenant chuckled.

  “Hah, well I guess I mean if something so definitive happens that we could hardly fail to notice. You know, like a big, neon sign with an arrow that says ‘enemy ships, exit here.’” The AI paused momentarily as it continued to monitor vast quantities of data streaming in from its sensors. “By the way, looks like the first comm beacon is up and running. Estimated time remaining for sync with NRD net: zero five minutes.”

  “Whoa, that’s very good news, thanks. Since the new software appears to be working as advertised, we might as well hang out here until it syncs up. We have a preprogrammed pattern for deploying the other four beacons, but if we were to detect something, we might change …”

  “Contacts!” the AI interrupted excitedly.

  “Contacts? Where away? Clarify!” the pilot commanded. To his knowledge, no Human vessel had ever detected anything while in hyperspace, let alone something that could be classified as another ship. Then again, he thought, it’s not like we have a lot of experience in this area.

  “Unable to classify the contacts at the moment, sir,” the AI answered. “It’s a previously undetected phenomenon characterized by massive particle emissions.”

  “Source?”

  “Precise sources unknown, but I can confirm twenty-four distinct events, all occurring within a span of zero eight seconds.”

  “Okay, is it possible we’re seeing ships transitioning either into or out of hyperspace?”

  “The pattern is consistent with current hyperdrive theory for ships transitioning from normal space into hyperspace. The same would not be true if the ships had been transitioning back into normal space. I have sufficient data now to pinpoint the source coordinates of all twenty-four events. You should be able to see them plotted to port.”

  “Yeah, I see them,” the lieutenant replied, looking off to his left at the grouping of red ovals pulsing urgently within his field of view. “Is there anything else you can tell me?” he asked, shaken by the sudden realization that he was perhaps not as isolated and concealed as he had believed just moments before.

  “I’m still processing data. Can you please be more specific?”

  “Sure, yeah, sorry about that,” he breathed, trying to calm and refocus his mind. “Can you tell if there are twenty-four enemy warships sitting at those locations?”

  “Again, keep in mind that we’re breaking new ground here to an extent. I’m filling gaps in the observational data from our sensors with some theory-based hypotheses.”

  “Fine, whatever. Give me your best guess,” the lieutenant replied, beginning to lose his patience. Interaction with the fighter’s AI was often so Human-like that it was easy to forget that he was dealing with a machine. “Conversations” like this one brought the reality of the situation back to the forefront of his mind in a manner that was as jarring as it was irritating.

  “I believe that I can not only assert that the ships have left the area,” the AI replied, as a series of red lines extended from the contacts displayed within the lieutenant’s field of view, “but I can also project their direction of flight.”

  Chapter 13

  TFS Navajo

  (Combat Information Center)

  While he had never been one to micromanage his people, Admiral Patterson had taken the unusual step of insisting that the pilot of Gamble 22 be patched directly through to the Navajo’s CIC as soon as the first comm beacon came online. He was fully aware that the pilot would likely have little if any useful information to convey at this point. Still, he considered the act of establishing real-time communications with one of his ships in what he hoped was the vicinity of the enemy to be a pivotal first step — one he hoped would ultimately lead to a successful defense of Earth.

  “Admiral,” Ensign Fletcher called from her Communications console, “the first comm beacon is operational, and I have Gamble 22 on the line.”

  “Outstanding. Designate the coordinates of the first comm beacon as Location Dagger,” Patterson ordered, selecting a word that he liked from a list of randomly generated code names on his tablet. “How are we set for crypto?”

  “It’s the latest and greatest based on the new software hand-delivered by the Combat Comm guys yesterday,” she replied, raised e
yebrows revealing her skepticism. “They seem to believe it’s ‘unbreakable.’”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before, but I guess we’ll see. It’s not like we can just stop communicating with our ships,” he groused, while donning a nearby headset. “Put the pilot through, please.”

  “Aye, sir,” Fletcher replied, issuing the required commands at her console before nodding to indicate a live audio connection.

  “Gamble 22, Gun-shy.”

  “Gun-shy, go for Gamble 22,” came the immediate reply from 3.3 light years away with more than sufficient clarity to detect the nervousness in the young lieutenant’s voice.

  “We’re happy to hear from you, Gamble. How do you read?” The traditional question and response regarding signal readability and strength had little relevance in digital communications, but was still sometimes used more as a greeting than for the purpose of confirming the audio connection.

  “Five by five, Gun-shy. You should be getting data as well.”

  “Understood. Stand by one.” Patterson waved to get the attention of the commander at the holographic display as he turned and walked in the direction of the table. The admiral pointed at his headset then back to the holo table, which was all the young tactical officer needed by way of instructions. A few seconds later, all of the information currently displayed in the cockpit of Gamble 22 was projected in exquisite, three-dimensional detail above the surface of the table.

  “Alright, son, we’ve got your feed. Very nice job so far. Explain to me what I’m seeing.”

  “Roger, Gun-shy. The contacts you see appeared immediately after release of the first comm beacon. The AI classified them as probable outbound hyperspace transitions from twenty-four individual vessels in the directions indicated by the course projection lines.”

  “Did the AI make any guess as to their destination?”

  “Negative, sir. The signatures appeared to be consistent with standard hyperdrives, so there is no way to tell when they intend to disengage their engines. The AI did note, however, that if they had been C-Jump signatures, it might have been possible to project their destination based on power output.”

  “Great work, Gamble, that’s a bona fide major discovery,” Patterson replied, making a mental note to follow up with Science and Engineering about the treasure trove of information this short mission had already provided. “We’re going to rework your target package based on this new data. Sit tight for a few minutes and we’ll transmit new orders for you. If anything else happens in the area, let us know immediately.”

  “Understood, Gun-shy. Gamble 22 out.”

  “Alright,” Patterson began, energized by the fact that he finally had some hard intelligence to work with, “show me where we were planning on placing the remaining four comm beacons.”

  “Aye, sir,” the commander replied, entering a series of commands on his tablet to access the information. Before he could finish, the Navajo’s AI anticipated his request — pulling the relevant data directly from the fighter’s AI. Three pulsating, green spheres appeared above the table to indicate the original deployment locations.

  “Okay, let’s move number two to this location,” Patterson said, physically grabbing one of the three spheres and dragging it to a location closer to the hyperspace transitions detected by Gamble 22. “Number three looks pretty good as is. Four is pretty close too, but let’s just pull it in a bit and get a tighter grouping since we now have a better idea where their rally point is located.”

  “Begging your pardon, Admiral, but can we not assume that those twenty-four hyperspace transitions were the Resistance ships leaving their original rally point?”

  Patterson looked up at the youngish commander, wearing the kind of smile he might have given one of his sons when he knew they were right on the cusp of grasping some new skill he had worked hard to teach them. “We might indeed, Commander. We might even be tempted to assume that they have abandoned their original rally point and won’t be back. Consider, however, that we have a number of other pieces of information that don’t quite add up. For one, their course vectors do not indicate they were on their way to Earth, right?”

  “No, sir. They’re not even heading in our general direction,” he said, feeling as if he had become privy to a diabolical practical joke that was just about to be put into motion — at someone else’s expense.

  “Now keep in mind that I may be the one who’s being had here, but in my mind, that was a missed opportunity on the part of their commander.”

  “Because …” the commander paused as the implications ran rapidly through his mind, “if they thought there was any chance we might detect their departure, heading in the general direction of Earth would have put us on the defensive, even if their intent was to move their task force only a short distance.”

  “Right. It’s all about maintaining the initiative, especially when you can do something simple that just might succeed in throwing your enemy off balance. The fact is that they probably had no reason to suspect we would detect their departure. If you put yourself in their commander’s place, though, wouldn’t you be looking to move your task force?”

  “I’d get the hell out of there in a hurry, sir. It looks like our Hunter recon flight must have transitioned right on top of them. So he knows their original rally point is compromised.”

  “He does indeed. In fact, he has a number of new pieces of information with which he must now contend. He knows that his task force has most likely lost any possibility of a surprise attack, he knows that our capabilities are likely more formidable than he was led to believe, and he knows that it is entirely possible that we, or perhaps old GORT out there, might decide to mount an attack in short order.” Patterson paused and stared at the display for a moment, wondering if it was he who was missing something obvious. “Here’s something else to consider,” he continued. “Why the delay? Why had they not already attacked Earth before our Hunters arrived?”

  “I’d have to say for the same reason he didn’t head in our direction just now. He’s not ready.”

  “That would be my guess as well. And if he’s expecting more ships, he has no capability to contact them if they are en route, just like us. In fact, their long-range comm requires their ships to remain in normal space and stationary for an extended period of time, right?”

  “Yes, sir, although we’re not entirely sure how long. It’s apparently something Admiral Naftur has been careful not to reveal.”

  “I can’t say I blame him. A smart commander will take a comm advantage over one in raw firepower any day of the week … within reason, of course,” Patterson said. “In any event, it’s probably a safe bet that there will be more ships arriving at the original rally point. And that makes it a pretty important piece of real estate for us to control if we can.”

  “Got it, sir. Thank you for taking the time to explain all of that to me,” the commander said.

  “Hah! You can thank me after we see if I was right,” Patterson laughed. “If we manage to live long enough to find out, that is.”

  The tactical officer raised his eyebrows, surprised by the admiral’s rather unusual candor … or was that dark humor? “One other thing I noticed, Admiral,” he continued, “aren’t we missing the location for deployment of the fifth comm beacon?”

  “I just don’t think we can see it at this scale. We probably need to zoom out to include about a five-light-hour radius,” Patterson replied, pinching the space above the table to make the necessary adjustment. On the far edge of the display, an additional pulsating green sphere came into view.

  “Surely that’s an error, sir. That one won’t provide us any additional coverage sitting way out there.”

  “Nope, that looks about right to me as well. Go ahead and transmit the new deployment orders to Gamble 22. Tell him to stay put and await further orders once he’s finished. Then notify Captains Zhukov and Donovan aboard the Jutland of our changes.”

  “Aye, sir,” he replied, shooting Patter
son an expectant look.

  “Don’t worry, Commander, that last location will make sense to you soon enough,” the admiral said, winking as he turned to head for the Navajo’s bridge.

  TFS Theseus, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  “Captain on the bridge!” the Marine sentry barked as Prescott made his first “official” appearance via the aft entrance near his ready room. Looking around, he noticed that Commander Reynolds had asked the standby bridge crew to step in for the occasion … and the sight of all of his officers and the young Marine standing at attention produced an unexpected stream of emotionally laden thoughts. It occurred to him that he did not remember his first formal entry onto Ingenuity’s bridge ever being announced in this manner. He assumed that was probably because an opportunity had never presented itself amid the chaos of her shakedown cruise, commissioning, and immediate transition to operational status. This time around, Fleet had opted to skip the shakedown cruise altogether, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether reliance on AI-based testing and evaluation would prove sufficient to avoid unpleasant or, worse yet, tragic surprises. As his brief stream of consciousness concluded, Prescott allowed himself to pause briefly and enjoy the moment. After all, his crew had performed admirably thus far, and they had every reason to take pride in their accomplishments — both aboard Ingenuity and in preparing Theseus for departure. Taking a deep breath, Prescott moved on with the business at hand.

  “Stand easy for a moment, everyone. I very much appreciate the courtesy. As you all know, that kind of thing rarely makes much practical sense on the bridge of a starship, so thank you for taking advantage of the opportunity. I know it goes without saying, but, once we are underway, it will not be necessary to call the room unless Commander Reynolds or I specifically tell you otherwise. For those of you I have already served with, I’m proud of your performance to date and happy to have you aboard once again. For those of you who are new,” he laughed, shading his eyes with one hand as he looked around the room, “and I think that’s limited to Lieutenant Lee at the moment … welcome aboard. Commander Reynolds went out of her way to irritate all of the other destroyer captains by cherry-picking some of their very best crewmembers. Unfortunately for you, that means she’ll have the bar set pretty high to make sure you’re worthy of all the favors she owes for stealing you away.