TFS Ingenuity: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 1

by Tori Harris

  "I assume you are referring to our receiving communications from the Pelarans. I won’t be able to discuss too much about that yet, as I’m sure you understand, but it’s certainly true that fifty years ago, we all assumed first contact would happen any day. When that didn’t happen, we just assumed what we have always assumed, the intelligent life that’s out there is too far away to be of immediate consequence to day to day life on Earth. That was especially true after we began to develop FTL capabilities ourselves, and yet still made no contact – at least no face to face contact or even two-way communications. For all we knew, the Pelaran broadcasts had been traveling for hundreds, or even thousands of years when we received them."

  The admiral checked himself before continuing. "Please excuse my manners once again and allow me to introduce my staff." Admiral Sexton made the rounds at the table, introducing the chief of naval operations, the chief of naval intelligence, and the commandant of the TFC Marine Corps. "And you already know Captain Prescott and Commander Reynolds."

  "I do indeed, Admiral. Even though the manner of my arrival was a calculated risk on the part of our Admiral Naftur, Captain Prescott, Commander Reynolds, and the crew of the Ingenuity have my deepest gratitude. They saved my life this morning and have been the most gracious of hosts," Nenir replied, taking the measure of each person at the table as she spoke.

  "Our sincerest welcome to you, Madame Ambassador. Thank you also for your patience with our medical staff and agreeing to meet with us prior to working through the long list of government leaders who are waiting to speak with you."

  Nenir raised an eyebrow at the admiral’s comment. "Forgive me, my knowledge of Terran government is inadequate at best. I realize this puts me at a bit of a disadvantage as an envoy. Is there a single governmental entity that is empowered to speak on Terra’s behalf?"

  "I’m not sure how best to answer that question other than to say it depends on whom you ask. Terran Fleet Command is a global organization created as a direct result of our contact with the Pelarans," Sexton said. "Tonya, can you put up the TFC charter map slide?" The admiral paused as his CNI quickly used her tablet to pull up a color-coded world map on the view screen.

  "As you can see, the vast majority of nation states are parties to the TFC charter. It’s a bit of a hybrid organization, however, and not, strictly speaking, a governmental body. On the other hand, it’s also not a true military organization either. Our primary mission involves developing Earth’s technological capabilities based on the Pelaran data, particularly our space-based assets."

  "So perhaps you expect to eventually become a true military organization then," Nenir said, more as a statement of fact than a question.

  "I think if I were in your role, I would also be concerned about our world’s military aspirations, so let me address a couple of things. Our command structure is similar to a traditional seagoing navy on Earth. I am the senior operational commander, but Terran Fleet Command is governed by a Leadership Council consisting of ten permanent and five rotating representatives chosen from our member nations. I receive my orders from them. If you feel up to it, you will be meeting with them tomorrow. Here on Earth, representative governments have a long tradition of civilian oversight and control of military organizations."

  Nenir smiled knowingly. "We all have our challenges, don’t we, Admiral Sexton. I wonder at your ability to get anything accomplished with such a bureaucratic leadership structure."

  "We do indeed, Madame Ambassador," Sexton sighed, "and I suspect that there are some characteristics of government and politics that are very much universal. I’m looking forward to learning about those same aspects of your world’s history. In all seriousness, however, Fleet’s mission is a peaceful one. We are very much dedicated to the principle of civilian control and our charter specifically prohibits the conduct of offensive military operations."

  Nenir offered an expressive smile at this last statement, her feline-like features sharpening to the point of appearing almost predatory. "Of course, Admiral," she purred, pausing significantly to look around the table once again. "And I assume that they, the Pelarans, dictated this organizational structure to you in their data streams, did they not?"

  Sexton glanced at his chief of intelligence for her input and received a barely perceptible nod in return.

  "Yes, ma’am, to an extent, that is a true statement," he replied, carefully choosing his words in an effort to avoid a potentially treasonous breach of security. "The Pelaran data is a bit, uh … you might say legalistic in nature. They were quite insistent that we avoid militarization of their technology. As you indicated, they also required that the technology be shared globally and provided a general framework for how it should be administered. TFC’s organizational structural was based on this framework."

  Nenir took a deep breath before continuing, clearly gauging how best to proceed. "I find myself in the uncomfortable position of providing some information that you might consider unpleasant. It is not my desire, the desire of the Wek planetary government, or the desire of the Sajeth Collective Governing Council to offend your people in any way, or to cause a rift between you and the Pelarans."

  Perceiving her obvious distress, Admiral Sexton spoke up. "Please speak your mind, Ambassador. We also have a long history on this planet of treating people as friends unless they prove themselves to be otherwise. We value candor and honesty, even in cases where the news is unpleasant to hear."

  Nenir stared directly into the admiral’s eyes. There was no shortage of so-called civilized species that were capable of violence against a messenger bearing bad news. She sensed no such intent with this group of Humans, but wondered how long she would remain welcome among these people after she started sharing what she knew.

  "Very well. If you will permit me, I’d like to begin with a question about your relationship with the Pelarans. They have clearly provided a wealth of scientific data that has a truly incalculable value for your world. What is your understanding of what they ask of you in return?"

  There was a general unsettled sound as several staff members shifted nervously in their seats. Admiral Sexton chuckled to himself quietly as he considered how to respond.

  "I suppose it would sound a bit incredible if I said that we don’t really know, wouldn’t it?"

  Nenir grinned at him, grateful for the break in tension. "No sir, that actually sounds like an honest answer to me, and frankly that’s the answer I was hoping for. You see, Admiral, my world has some familiarity with how the Pelarans work with cultivated civilizations."

  Sexton narrowed his eyes. "I’m sorry, ma’am, did you say cultivated?"

  Chapter 6

  TFS Ingenuity, Earth Orbit

  (The following day)

  Tom Prescott had managed a full eight hours of sleep, this time actually retiring to his quarters instead of the couch in his ready room. Upon returning to the ship after the previous day’s endless series of briefings, he had checked in briefly with the on-duty bridge crew, leaving word that he was not to be disturbed before 0700 unless an attack on Earth was imminent. On reflection, he realized that his remark didn’t seem nearly as humorous now as it would have a few days ago. An attack on Earth was now a scenario that was much more likely than he ever imagined it would be during his lifetime. Either way, however, even starship captains needed rack time. Immediately after reaching his quarters, Prescott had collapsed into his bed and, in the fine tradition of military personnel throughout history, instantly dropped into a deep, restful sleep in spite of the stressful events of the past two days.

  Now, freshly shaved and in a clean uniform, he was steps away from the end of the starboard command section corridor when he heard the ship’s voice announce the all too familiar "Captain Prescott to the bridge." Approaching the entrance, he noted the time on the control panel to the right of the door: 0703. Well, I guess that’s an improvement at least.

  "Good morning, Captain!" Lieutenant Lau greeted as he vacated the bridge command chair.
His welcome was delivered in a voice calculated to cheerfully receive his commanding officer while simultaneously warning everyone else on the bridge that the "old man" had arrived. "We remain in high orbit, sir. All systems in the green. Hyperspace transition available within five minutes. The threat board is clear, although there has been a significant amount of surface to orbit traffic over the past few hours. The XO is in Engineering."

  "Very well, Mr. Lau. That all sounds as it should be, so why was I paged just now?" Prescott asked, taking his seat.

  "Oh, sorry, sir. We heard from Admiral Patterson half an hour ago, but he said if anyone disturbed you before 0700, it would be their ass … sorry again, sir."

  "Uh huh, it’s okay, Lieutenant, enough with the apologizing. Why did he contact us?" Prescott replied testily. The idea of the chief of naval operations literally catching him napping not sitting well with him first thing this morning.

  "It was eyes only, sir. Commander Reynolds took it in your ready room. She said to call you at 0700, and headed for Engineering to speak with Commander Logan."

  Prescott took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. One of his favorite instructors during his stint at Fleet Command and Staff training had been a crusty old former admiral named Jones. He had told the class repeatedly that, in his experience, if there was one single thing that separated successful commanding officers from those who were not, it was their ability to "roll with it, son … whatever it is, just roll with it."

  "Well, it sounds like that’s where the party is this morning, so that’s where I’m headed as well. You can have the chair back. Call me immediately if anything changes or if we hear from Fleet again."

  "Aye, sir," Lau said, exhaling, hopeful that his ass might yet survive the morning in spite of repeated threats to the contrary.

  ***

  Kip Logan and Sally Reynolds stood in the aft section of Engineering, peering down into one of the massive wells housing one of Ingenuity’s six landing gear struts.

  "This is a really bad idea. Why are we doing this again?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Well, I can’t say for sure because Admiral Patterson made it abundantly clear that this was an urgent requirement that was not up for debate. If I were to guess, I’d say it has something to do with the fact that we learned yesterday that our neighborhood might be significantly more dangerous than we thought," Reynolds countered.

  "That’s all well and good, Commander, but we haven’t even begun the post shakedown analysis on any of the landing systems. It was considered low priority since our operational plan doesn’t include a surface landing for at least the next three months. It’s entirely possible that our initial climb to orbit or using the hyperdrive may have induced stress fractures in the undercarriage, or even the hull itself for that matter. If we drop a dynamic load of a hundred and eighty kilotons on top of these struts, we could easily cause a structural failure. It just seems like a crazy risk to take with our only operational starship. If they would give us a day to run some checks, we could lower the risk substantially."

  "You’re preaching to the choir, Kip. I told Patterson most of what you just said when he called thirty minutes ago. He was hearing none of it. In fact, he said we were to consider his call just short of an official Emergency Action Message."

  "Good God, more drama. I suppose it was predictable enough after yesterday, huh?"

  Reynolds laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it was. These are interesting times we are living in."

  "You do know that Confucius meant that as a curse, right?"

  "I do. You do know that it wasn’t Confucius who said it, right?"

  "Well, just the two people I wanted to see," Prescott interrupted, ducking his head as he entered through the bulkhead pressure door from the main Engineering compartment.

  "Good morning, Captain," the XO and chief engineer replied in unison, both feeling a little like teenage siblings caught fighting over the keys to the family car by their father.

  "Sally, I watched your exchange with Admiral Patterson on the way down. Let me see if I have the gist of it. We’re to prepare for landing and unscheduled, depot-level maintenance, but he made no references to where, when, or why?"

  "That’s a pretty good summary, Captain. Regarding the ‘when,’ he said he would get back to us later this morning. Reading between the lines, I assume they want us down sometime this afternoon."

  Prescott took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before continuing. Not for the first time, he was keenly aware of the sense of isolation imposed by command. As captain, he simply wasn’t afforded the same freedom to express his personal opinions as the two commanders standing before him now. Ironically, this was also true when speaking to admirals, who all too often weren’t particularly interested in their captains’ opinions.

  "Alright, I know you both have some reservations about proceeding on such a tight schedule. I’ll certainly bring that up again when I speak to Admiral Patterson, but I think we all know what his response is likely to be. This clearly sounds like one of those ‘shut up and color’ kinds of situations," Prescott said, raising his eyebrows as he spoke.

  Both commanders regarded their captain with sheepish grins, knowing full well that further debate was pointless.

  Prescott’s expression softened to let his officers know that their chastising had officially concluded before continuing. "Commander Logan, what can we do to minimize the risk to our hull and landing struts, given that we haven’t had the opportunity to prepare these systems for testing?"

  "Well, assuming we will be landing at a shipyard of some sort, they should at least be equipped to allow us to perform a ‘zero mass’ touchdown," Logan said, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally.

  Within the bounds of a planetary gravity well, most spacecraft had little to no capability of generating atmospheric lift. That left only two options for countering the force of gravity: thrusters or gravitic field generation. Only during the last twenty years had larger spacecraft (anything over approximately one hundred metric tons) had any capability of operating on or near the surface of a planet. They were constructed and operated, at tremendous expense, solely in space. Among her long list of superlatives, Ingenuity was, by far, the largest vessel ever designed for surface landing. She was equipped with sufficient Cannae thrusters to allow for landings on bodies with less than 1.5 times Earth’s gravity. In addition, the same systems used to provide inertial dampening and artificial gravity aboard could also extend gravitic fields beyond the ship’s hull, increasing the limit to 3 Gs. In fact, the ship was capable of landing under even higher loads, but doing so was impractical since Human physiology was incapable of tolerating more than 3 Gs for any length of time and would, therefore, be unable to leave the ship after landing anyway.

  A "zero mass” touchdown used a combination of gravitic field manipulation along with the ship’s sublight engines to operate in a manner reminiscent of lighter than air craft flown on Earth since the early 1700s. The sight of a vessel the size of a World War Two aircraft carrier (and over five times as heavy) approaching to land in much the same manner as a blimp over a sporting event was truly remarkable. The chief disadvantage of using such an approach, however, was that the mass cancelling gravitic fields ultimately interacted with objects on the ground and even with the surface itself. Any unsecured equipment or other loose items (often referred to as foreign object debris, or FOD) in the area were as likely as not to be transformed into potentially lethal missiles by the resulting sheer forces.

  Captain Prescott thought about the possible list of locations where Admiral Patterson might be sending them for this mysterious "depot-level maintenance." The most obvious choice would be the TFC shipyard facility near Tokyo where Ingenuity had undergone final assembly, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this would not be their destination.

  "I’ll be sure to specify we are looking for zero mass procedures to be in place for our arrival. Your reservations aside, Commander, do you know of any te
chnical problems that will prevent us from making a safe deorbit burn and translation to landing later today?"

  "I never said we couldn’t do it, sir, it just makes me a little uncomfortable is all," Logan replied. He had grown up in the southeastern United States, primarily Tennessee, and his accent tended to surface when he was put on the spot. "No sir, there are no show stoppers that I know of at the moment. If it’s truly an emergency situation, we’ll make it happen."

  "That’s what I was hoping you would say. You know my policy on this kind of thing, though. I’m always looking for your honest opinions and not some sugarcoated BS. That goes for you two more than anyone else on this ship. Clear?"

  For the second time, both Logan and Reynolds responded to their captain in unison, "Yes, sir."

  Prescott gave them a sideways, knowing look, shaking his head. He appeared to be preparing to make some kind of additional observation when he was startled by Lieutenant Lau’s voice blaring from the overhead speaker: "Captain Prescott, bridge."

  The comm system aboard was designed to keep track of every crewmember, addressing them by the most expedient means possible, whether that be individual comlinks, tablets, or overhead speakers. When in a louder than normal environment like Engineering, it was sometimes enough to scare the living hell out of the intended recipient.

  "Prescott here. Go ahead Lieutenant," he replied, involuntarily glancing up at the ceiling.

  "Sir, we just got a fifteen-minute warning that Admiral Patterson will be contacting us again."

  "Acknowledged, we’ll be on our way up shortly."

  Prescott returned his attention to his XO and chief engineer. "Reynolds, you’re with me. Logan, get our girl ready to land. Admiral KP seems to be in a hellfire hurry to get us down on deck. I expect we’ll be making a general announcement after this call, so go ahead and give your team leads a heads up."