by Tori Harris
“Tell me about it,” Reynolds sighed. “We have no idea of her casualties yet, but the data we received from the Hadeon indicates that she has a complement of over twelve thousand personnel. Of that, about twenty-five hundred make up something similar to one of our Marine Expeditionary Units.”
“Yeah, we are in no way equipped to handle anything on that scale. So that needs to be an Admiral Patterson question for sure.”
“Yes, sir, that’s why they pay him the big bucks,” she smiled.
“Okay, Lieutenant,” Prescott called, getting Dubashi’s attention once again. With a single keystroke at her console, the vidcon on the screen became active once again.
“Sorry about that, Commander Takkar,” Prescott said. “I know that you don’t have a precise ETA for the Zhelov and the Serapion, but can you tell us about how long will it take for them to receive a transmission from the communications buoy once they arrive?”
“Yes, Captain. The ships’ AIs will scan for a communications buoy immediately upon their arrival. The procedures our ships follow when arriving near an existing assembly area requires a large exclusion zone to provide separation from vessels already on station.”
Takkar nodded to his communications officer off-screen. Shortly thereafter, Lieutenant Dubashi received an additional data stream from the Hadeon and displayed the resulting graphic in a window directly beside Commander Takkar’s image. The slowly rotating, three-dimensional plot depicted a view of the exclusion zone relative to the current locations of all the other ships in the area.
“Depending on where they arrive within the zone relative to the location of the buoy,” Takkar continued, “there might be a brief comm delay, but they should still receive their instructions pretty quickly.”
“And do you expect that they will comply with the order to depart for Terra immediately, even taking into account the situation here?”
“Sajeth Collective naval doctrine requires captains to respond to orders received in this fashion immediately. I don’t know either of these captains, and there is always the possibility that they will do something unexpected, but if they are following standard procedures they will ignore what they see here and proceed to Terra without delay.”
“I know I’ve been asking you questions that most likely involve classified information, and I’m not sure how I would respond if our roles were reversed. It would be very helpful, however, if we knew how long it will take the two battleships to arrive at Earth. Flag Captain Jelani aboard the Gresav told us the trip would take approximately twenty-six hours. That equates to a speed of about eleven hundred c. Our assumption is that, as one of the Collective’s newest ships, the Gresav is probably also one of the fastest. Can we assume that the Baldev-class battleships can travel at roughly the same speed?”
Takkar face darkened as he breathed in sharply, then released his breath with the deep, mournful sound Prescott had heard a number of times from Admiral Naftur. “I am unsure about the accuracy of the translation, but the word ‘classified,’ is by no means adequate to describe the sensitivity of the information we have been openly discussing. My actions here today, even if ultimately deemed proper and necessary, will almost certainly require a pardon of some sort in order to spare my life.”
Prescott regarded the Wek officer sympathetically and could clearly see the multiple layers of conflict registered on his expressive face. Takkar was obviously a creature of conscience, which, ironically, was precisely what had led him down the winding path lined with competing allegiances and moral ambiguity to reach this point in time. Prescott wondered if, faced with the same set of difficult choices, he would have the courage of his convictions required to set aside a lifetime of expectations and preconceived notions — the courage to chart an entirely new course based solely on what he believed to be right. Takkar had now done so twice, and the heavy burden of his decisions was painful to behold.
“I won’t insult you by pretending to understand the conflict you face, Commander. I will say, however, that where this single piece of information is concerned, you’re not really giving us anything we don’t already know. You’re simply confirming information we already have in hand.”
“And, in so doing, providing a key piece of information that will give aid to those who were, until just a few hours ago, my sworn enemies,” he said in a distant, distracted tone. “At least that is how those in positions of power and influence within the Resistance movement will put it.”
“If you will permit me, Yuli, we Humans were never your ‘sworn enemies.’ Surely, that distinction belongs only to those who actively seek to do your people harm. We didn’t even know you existed until just over a month ago, and have absolutely nothing to gain by making enemies of the Wek, or any other members of the Sajeth Collective, for that matter. That is unless they ruthlessly attack us without provocation — in which case I think they will find that we are capable of our own unique brand of savagery when circumstance require us to defend ourselves. Indeed, we have everything to gain by cultivating an enduring partnership between our worlds … sorry, poor choice of words there, but you understand my meaning, I’m sure.”
“Humph,” Takkar grunted, his face seeming to brighten once again.
“We’re a planet of traders, Takkar. I’m definitely no statesman myself, but I’m pretty sure our primary goal in dealing with the worlds of the Collective will be to negotiate mutually beneficial business arrangements. Well … mutually beneficial, but hopefully just a little more beneficial for us than for you,” Prescott said with a cunning smile. “Actually, you may need to do business with us for a few years before you make up your mind on the question of whether we qualify as sworn enemies,” he laughed.
“There are most definitely none like you within the Sajeth Collective,” Takkar replied, shaking his head slowly. “In fact, other than the Pelarans themselves — about whom we still know very little — I do not believe we have ever encountered a civilization that seems to encompass such a wide range of … attributes, if you will. You might be surprised to learn that many species, at least in my opinion, have a tendency to fit within a fairly narrow archetype.”
“Thank you … I think,” Prescott smiled, “and, yes, that does surprise me. I would like nothing better than to discuss the topic with you at length when we are at leisure. For now, however, I think we had better move this along before we find ourselves in a fight that we have no hope of winning. Can you tell us when we can expect the Resistance ships to reach Terra?”
“Of course, Captain,” Takkar said resignedly. “The information you mentioned is indeed accurate. There are, in fact, only two primary hyperdrive designs currently deployed aboard active duty Sajeth Collective naval vessels. As you inferred, the faster of the two is installed aboard Gresav-class vessels, as well as most other warships fielded within the past two decades or so. This includes the Hadeon, which is a member of the Keturah-class, as well as the Baldev-class battleships. They typically do travel at approximately one thousand one hundred times the speed of light, although higher speeds are possible over shorter distances or in an emergency. The older design is capable of only about half this speed and is installed aboard many of our older vessels including the standard Shopak-class cruisers like the Babayev. The bulk of Commodore Sarafi’s task force is made up of vessels utilizing the older hyperdrive design. At last count, he had at least fifteen standard cruisers at his disposal as well as six Rusalov-class battleships.”
“So you believe he will be traveling at around five hundred and fifty c, then?” Prescott asked.
“I cannot say for sure, Captain, but I cannot imagine a situation where he would be willing to leave so many of his ships behind. Unless …”
“Yes, Commander?”
“While I have not seen the specifics of Commodore Sarafi’s attack plan, based on the ships at his disposal I believe we can safely assume that he will execute a relatively conventional, extraorbital bombardment. By ‘conventional,’ I do not mean to imply that
no nuclear weapons will be used — indeed, a great many will be required if his intent is to render the planet uninhabitable — but I would expect most of these will be in the form of nuclear-tipped artillery rounds like those fired by the older Rusalov-class battleships. This kind of ‘conventional’ attack requires a number of ships to remain in the general area of the target for a period of time. If, before the attack on Terra commences, Sarafi’s losses turn out to be heavier than expected, however, there is the possibility he might attempt to execute a ‘special weapons’ attack.”
“What, you mean like a chemical or biological weapon?” Reynolds asked.
“Biological, yes — horrifying, deplorable weapons, genetically engineered to target a specific species. Such abominations have been banned on Graca and aboard all Wek vessels for centuries, so, by extension the same has always applied to all Sajeth Collective ships. Research into weapons of this type has long been conducted by the Lesheerans, however, and occasionally proposed as a means of ‘compassionately’ ending a conflict by simply exterminating the enemy. The Lesheerans have often boasted that they possess the capability to very specifically target their weapons. They supposedly have the technology required to kill only those within a certain race, with a specific ancestor in their lineage, or even to target something as arbitrary as a physical characteristic such as eye color. Perhaps the most insidious characteristic of these weapons is that they leave the enemy’s territory — in this case the entire planet — fully intact and ready for colonization.”
“Dear God,” Reynolds muttered to herself.
“So you believe the leaders of the Resistance may have decided to ignore the long-standing ban and equip Sarafi’s ship with these biological weapons?” Prescott asked.
“I have no specific information on the subject, but it would not be a surprise to me if that were the case. The Lesheerans typically remain in lockstep with their closest ally, the Damarans. Representatives from these two worlds on the Sajeth Collective Governing Council were the original instigators behind the Resistance movement.”
“Thank you, Commander Takkar,” Prescott said earnestly, “I think we’ve heard enough for now, but I’m sure we will have additional questions for you later. With any luck, the information you have provided will save countless lives — both in the Sol system and ultimately in the Sajeth Collective as well. Now, for the time being, I would like you to continue coordinating with Captain Yagani aboard the Baldev. After he launches his comm buoy — which needs to happen immediately — you are to make it absolutely clear that we demand his unconditional surrender. Direct him to immediately recover all of his remaining fighters and stand by for further instructions. Beyond that, I would like you to render only the aid required to prevent the immediate loss of additional life aboard his ship. I want to make myself very clear on this point, because I’m sure the Baldev will require quite a bit of help from us over the next few days. For now, however, offer them whatever urgent assistance you can provide quickly, then stand off from the exclusion zone to the same general area as the Theseus. We are still in the process of recovering our own damaged fighters, so I believe our current location is far enough away to avoid an immediate attack in case the Zhelov and the Serapion elect to ignore Commodore Sarafi’s instructions. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes, sir. Have you received any communications from the other damaged cruiser, the Keturah?”
“We have not. We believe she jettisoned her reactor cores after being hit by the Baldev’s missile. Since then, we have seen only minimal energy readings from her, and there are indications of multiple hull breaches. We will do everything we can to help them once the Zhelov and the Serapion have cleared the area.”
Takkar paused momentarily, glancing downward as if gauging how best to respond. “Begging your pardon, sir, but since we are providing some minimal level of assistance to the Baldev, should we not extend the same courtesy to the Keturah? Theseus is the closer of our two vessels. Perhaps you can dispatch a shuttle of some sort to at least assess whether there are any survivors. If members of her crew are trapped in isolated areas, our providing emergency supplies may save many lives.”
Prescott thought for a moment about how the damaged F-373s would likely be stowed in Theseus’ hangar bay and whether it might still be possible to quickly launch two of their Gurkha Assault ASVs — or even the two Sherpas for that matter — without interfering with the ongoing recovery operation.
“Yes, of course, Commander. We’ll do what we can, but I don’t want either of us to risk additional lives in what may be a futile attempt at providing emergency aid. If the two battleships arrive while you are in close proximity to the Baldev, you are to transition to hyperspace, proceed to a safe distance, and contact me for further instructions.”
“Thank you, Captain Prescott. I understand what you have asked of me and I will join you shortly. We will also provide you with information regarding the Keturah’s external access points momentarily.”
“Move quickly, Commander. If possible, I don’t want you anywhere near the Baldev when those additional battleships arrive. Prescott out.”
“I assume you’ll want Lieutenant Jacks to handle the emergency relief op?” Reynolds asked, already issuing orders to prepare the required supplies for loading aboard one or more of their available ASVs.
“Yes, and I would prefer to send two of the Gurkhas, if possible, so they can at least have the option to C-Jump clear if they find themselves in a bad situation.”
“Understood. I’ll take a look at the current state of the hangar deck shortly,” she replied, looking up from her touchscreen.
Prescott paused to take a deep breath, then stared at his XO while slowly shaking his head in wonder at everything they had experienced over the past several days.
“You okay?” Reynolds asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not too keen on all of these ‘fate of the world on your shoulders’ kinds of situations. You?”
“Same,” she smiled. “Knock on wood, but I think we’re doing fine so far. Besides, would you trust anyone else but us to deal with this mess?”
“Oh, hell no,” he replied, chuckling. “On that subject, did you see that it was Bruce Abrams leading the alpha strike at Location Crossbow? You remember him from the Live Fire Training Range, right? He had Diligence until about a week ago when Admiral Patterson transitioned his entire crew into the Karna the same way he did ours.”
“Ah, that’s right. I didn’t make the connection though. I guess the admiral has quite a bit of confidence in him, then?”
“I’d say so, yes. He’s a good man … and a solid choice for that mission. I’m also guessing his crew has more experience on the range than any other at this point, which is probably the other reason they were transitioned over to a Theseus-class. Okay, Commander,” he said, quickly refocusing on the urgent business still at hand, “what’s our status?”
“The good news is that there have been no significant changes since the last update from Commander Logan. Other than the damage to the shield system as well as the loss of two of our forward plasma torpedo tubes and two railgun turrets, we’re in surprisingly good shape. All other systems in the green. C-Jump range 101.1 light years and stable.”
“Remarkable,” Prescott replied, shaking his head again. “And where are we on recovering the damaged fighters?”
“When Flight Ops realized what kind of shape they were in, they went ahead and did an emergency egress and recovery for all four pilots. They all appear to have made it through their ordeal just fine, but they’re being checked out in the medical bay just in case. Recovering their Reapers, however, has been a little more difficult than expected. We’ve got remote maneuvering units attached to all four, so getting them to the aft flight apron hasn’t been a problem, but they all pretty much look like they’ve been dropped into a meat grinder. With so much damage, most of their systems aren’t working at all. Just as an example, we finally got the first t
wo aboard and stowed, but their wings wouldn’t fold up properly, so they had to be removed.”
“Removed … you mean as in disassembled?”
“No, removed as in detached from their fuselages using plasma torches.”
“Hmm … well it’s obviously preferable for us to recover the spacecraft, if possible, but if we find ourselves under attack again, discontinue the effort immediately and have the AI initiate a containment breach on any remaining fighters as soon as we’re at a safe distance. We cannot risk having any of them captured, particularly one that’s still largely intact.”
“Understood. If you think I have time before our vidcon with Admiral Patterson, I’d like to head down to the flight deck and take a look for myself. There’s only so much you can see on a video monitor.”
“That’s probably a good idea, but make it quick.”
“Will do, sir,” Reynolds replied, already heading for the door.
“Lieutenant Dubashi, please signal Zhukov and Waffer and ask them to check in for an update as soon as they have a moment.”
“Aye, sir.”
Prescott took another deep breath, his mind still struggling to come to grips with the problem of prioritizing dozens of equally urgent matters, each one demanding his immediate and undivided attention. The task that grabbed his attention next, however, made him laugh inwardly at his apparent inability to determine precisely what to do next.