TFS Guardian: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 5

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TFS Guardian: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 5 Page 9

by Tori Harris


  “Understood. We’ll figure something out. Captain Prescott, please go secure for a moment.”

  “Stand by one, Admiral White,” he replied, retrieving his helmet as he stepped back out into the hallway and separated himself from the rest of the group. “Alright, Admiral, we’re back on encrypted comm,” Prescott reported — unnecessarily, with his suit’s AI already having done so. “Before we say anything else, ma’am, I’m afraid it’s not just our comm security that’s questionable. The Greys are using highly advanced neural implants to transmit data to one another. As strange as this may sound, I’ve seen some unsettling indications they may actually be able to hear what we’re thinking … while we’re using our own neural interfaces, I mean.”

  “I’ve been watching your video feed and I think I saw the interaction you’re referring to,” White replied. “You may be right, Captain, but all we can do for now is continue following standard security procedures and protect our classified information as best we can. Hell, I guess we could even make the argument that if their technology is truly that much more advanced than ours, it probably doesn’t matter all that much that they’re able to monitor our comm.”

  “Maybe so, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I had a better idea of what they want from us.”

  “Agreed. And to that end, I wanted to inform you that Admiral Patterson’s task force has arrived and has reason to suspect that the Pelaran Envoy you met earlier may be on his way here … presumably in response to the Greys’ arrival.”

  “Tahiri’s coming here? I can’t imagine that being in any way good news for us, ma’am. How long do we have?”

  “We don’t have an ETA just yet, but possibly within the next few hours. Your orders are to get your people and Admiral Naftur off that ship as quickly as you can. With any luck, we’ll get a chance to continue the tour later. Before Tahiri’s ship gets here, there are obviously a number of additional questions we’d like to get answered. And since the Greys seem to prefer communicating with you, I suspect you’ll be the one doing the asking.”

  “Understood, ma’am. We’ll be on our way out shortly.”

  “Keep Rick talking, Captain. The more we can learn during the time we have remaining, the better. White out.”

  Prescott drew in a deep breath, staring down the length of the empty corridor as he worked to focus his mind. Given a universe of possible questions for the alien visitors and a limited amount of time to ask them, what were the most pressing topics on which to focus their discussions? What do they really want from us? he wondered, echoing what he had told Admiral White.

  Somewhat frustrated that this was the best he could come up with at the moment, Prescott removed his helmet once again and turned back in the direction of Admiral Naftur’s room. With his eyes focused a half meter above Rick’s head, he was forced to bring himself to an abrupt stop to avoid running bodily over the diminutive Grey alien.

  “Jeez, Rick, I had no idea you were —”

  “I will tell you what you need to know, Captain,” Rick interrupted gravely, his dark eyes seeming to penetrate to the very core of Prescott’s consciousness. “But as you are now aware, our time is limited. It would be exceedingly dangerous for your people if our ship were to remain inside this facility after the so-called Pelaran Envoy arrives. See to Admiral Naftur. Then we must speak once more so that we may assist your leadership in deciding what course of action they should take next. You have one hour.”

  Yumara System Lagrange Point 4

  (1389 light years from Earth)

  Although their ships had occasionally been encountered by those of what was now known as the Wek Unified Fleet, the six-hundred-odd light years separating Yumara’s parent star from the nearest world of the Sajeth Collective had, thus far at least, helped avoid anything approaching conflict. A relatively new member of the Pelaran Alliance, Yumara’s cultivation program had progressed with textbook efficiency. Precisely on schedule, the new Regional Partner’s technology had reached a level calculated to be sufficiently superior to all other civilizations within a five-hundred-light-year radius to keep them in check — and yet not so dominant as to become a threat to the Alliance itself. Once again, utilizing only a single vessel, another one-hundred-and-sixty-seven million-cubic-light-year volume of space was effectively pacified on behalf of the Pelaran Alliance.

  Unlike Earth, Yumara had not been the beneficiary — or the victim — of non-native technological contamination from other advanced civilizations. Accordingly, their technology had advanced precisely to the level dictated by the local GCS system and no further. Yumaran warships, therefore, while formidable, were only marginally more powerful than those of the Wek Unified Fleet. Normally, this would not have presented a problem since the Wek homeworld of Graca was very nearly within the cultivation radius of another prospective Alliance member. Unfortunately for Yumara, however, the homeworld of that neighboring prospective member was called Terra.

  Clearly this will be a problem, the Pelaran Envoy thought, having completed the latest in a long series of simulations designed to model probable Terran behavior in light of further external influence. As the Terran GCS had reported in the past, the only real question was whether or not the situation could be salvaged without resorting to rather drastic measures — resulting not only in the loss of billions of lives, but, more importantly, five centuries of technological investment. Perhaps the results of the current exercise will yield definitive results, the Envoy concluded as it slowly approached the Yumaran Guardian spacecraft.

  Just as had been the case near the Krayleck homeworld of Legara, there were several warships in the vicinity of Yumara when Verge Tahiri’s vessel (in the company of what appeared to be another Guardian spacecraft) unexpectedly transitioned just two hundred kilometers from their own GCS. Once again, the flurry of hails from both the Yumaran warships as well as numerous installations on the planet’s surface were met with properly authenticated Pelaran identification codes accompanying what amounted to an interstellar form letter. Their cooperation was appreciated, although not required, etcetera etcetera, and their beloved Guardian would be returned in better-than-new condition less than one week hence.

  Before the local authorities could even ask for clarification, let alone mount any sort of protest, the three Pelaran spacecraft had executed a graceful series of maneuvers, arranging themselves into a three-ship, triangular formation. With the Envoy’s hyperdrive field now extending to cover all three vessels, it wasted no time transitioning to hyperspace once again in a single flash of blue-tinted light.

  Earth, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  (Berth 10)

  Forty-eight minutes after parting company with Captain Prescott’s team, Rick emerged unexpectedly from his ship and began making his way down the gangway connecting it to the wharf. The foot of the brow was now guarded by two Marines in combat EVA suits with their pulse rifles at the ready, both of whom now had their undivided attention focused on the approaching Grey. Unsure precisely how they should respond, each simply reported the activity via their neural interfaces and waited for further orders.

  In spite of Admiral White’s comments regarding the Greys’ overwhelming technological superiority, General Tucker continued to insist on a wide range of precautions intended to protect Fleet personnel and property. Accordingly, no less than six sniper teams had been posted at strategic locations throughout the shipyard. In addition to the traditional two-person teams, four K-25 autonomous multipurpose droids had been deployed. A relatively new addition to TFC’s arsenal, this was the first time the AMDs had been configured for a real-world “surface interdiction” mission. Now, as the Grey alien approached the bottom of the Ethereal’s gangway, he was quite literally in the crosshairs of the Terran Fleet Command Marine Corps … just in case, as General Tucker had said.

  “Hiya fellas,” Rick announced casually when he was within a few meters of the Marine troopers. “Uh, not that I assume you’re both ‘fellas’ in there,” he
went on, shielding his eyes as if he were trying to get a better look at the Marine’s faces hidden behind their helmets’ face shields.

  The Marines said nothing in reply, both a bit flabbergasted to be standing in the presence of a no-kidding Grey alien, and even more so by its quirky, Human-like behavior.

  “Uh … okay,” Rick went on, drawing out the words in an effort to fill the awkward silence. “You have no idea how hard it was to resist asking you two to ‘take me to your leader’ just now,” he said with a brief fit of squeaking laughter, “but, strangely enough, that’s exactly what I need you to do. At a minimum, I need to see Admiral Sexton and Captain Prescott immediately. Please ask them not to include Admiral Naftur until I’ve had a chance to explain more about why he’s here.”

  “I’m Lance Corporal Johnson and this is Private First Class Hendricks,” the first Marine replied, regaining his bearing and quickly refocusing on the mission at hand. “We’ll see what we can do to help you with that, sir. But before I can do so, I understand you were carrying a weapon of some sort before. Is that still the case?”

  “No, that was just to make sure our distinguished Wek visitor didn’t decide to relieve someone of a body part they would prefer to hang onto. I think he’s fine now, by the way — or at least much less angry than before. Besides, you two obviously have weapons, and I’m sure you’re a lot better at using them than I am, so I don’t think there’s any need for me to carry one at this point.”

  “Very good, I’m happy to hear that. If you don’t mind raising your hands and turning around for us, PFC Hendricks is just going to give you a quick check.”

  “Sure, I guess,” Rick replied nervously as he turned around to face his ship, “but if it’s going to get intimate, I expect him to buy me dinner first.”

  “Good luck with that one, sir, but I’m pretty sure she’s got a serious boyfriend. The good news is that she’s very good at weapon sweeps, and … there you go, she’s all done. You can turn back around now, sir, thank you. Were the officers you mentioned expecting you?”

  “Yes, but we didn’t make any specific plans for … ah, maybe this is my ride,” Rick said, nodding behind the two Marines as one of the shipyard’s grav carts rounded the corner and headed rapidly down the wharf in their direction. In response, both troopers repositioned themselves in a deliberate yet nonthreatening manner in order to keep an eye on both the alien and the approaching vehicle — the driver of which their suits’ AIs had already identified as Commander Sally Reynolds.

  “Morning, Marines,” Reynolds greeted, exiting the cart and returning their salutes. “Everything okay here?” she asked, which both understood to mean: “Is this guy clean?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Johnson replied. “He mentioned a meeting with several officers. Will you be escorting him, and would you like us to accompany you?”

  “No, thanks, that won’t be necessary. I assume your relief is due out here shortly?”

  “Yes, ma’am, in just a couple more hours.”

  “Glad to hear it. Carry on, please, and thanks for your help,” she said, returning their salutes once again and gesturing for Rick to join her in the front seat of the grav cart.

  “I assume you can understand me, right?” she asked after turning the cart around to head back towards the quay. Although she was carrying a tablet computer just in case, Rick seemed quite adept at both speaking and understanding English. Whether he was using some sort of implants to assist with translation didn’t seem particularly relevant to Reynolds, she was just happy to be able to carry on a conversation without the awkward translation delay.

  “I understand perfectly, Commander. I take it you have something on your mind?”

  “Hah, well, there are probably a thousand questions I’d like to ask you. But since I only have you to myself for a couple of minutes on the way to our meeting, all I wanted to ask is that you please, for the love of God, shoot straight with us.”

  “Have I given you a reason to cause you to believe I would do otherwise?”

  “Not yet … as far as I know, but here’s the thing, Rick, we’ve only been a true interstellar species for a short period of time, right?”

  “Many would argue you still aren’t since you have yet to establish any self-sufficient colonies in other star systems, so, yes, that’s certainly true.”

  “I’m sure the colonization program will happen soon enough,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “My point is that even though we’re just getting started, we’ve managed to put our foot in the middle of one mess after another … almost getting ourselves exterminated more than once in the process. Every situation we encounter and every relationship we establish is, at best, ambiguous and unpredictable. Now you come along and, from the way it sounds, I think you’re about to ask us to get involved in more of the same, if not worse.”

  “Commander, what I’m proposing is not —”

  “Nope … it doesn’t even matter to me what it is, so you can save your explanation for the Admiralty staff. I just hope you understand that if you’re looking for our help, you’ll have a much better chance of getting it if you’ll do us the courtesy of offering up the unvarnished truth. Admiral Sexton and company are going to want to know what you want, what the risks are, what’s in it for you, and why you think it’s in our best interests to get involved. Look, I’m just a commander, Rick, so they don’t pay me to make the big, strategic decisions … not yet anyway,” she added with a cunning smile. “But if you can’t — or won’t — provide all of that information in a straightforward manner, I think we’ll all be better off if you just climb back inside your flying saucer and get the hell off our planet.”

  “I get it, Commander Reynolds, and, for what it’s worth, I agree with you. I appreciate your candid advice and I’ll do my best to follow it. In fact, helping your world make a few course corrections at this critical time is one of the reasons we chose right now to conduct a visit of this type. We haven’t done so in a very long time, the simple reason being that we prefer to allow Human worlds to find their own way as much as possible. Believe it or not, all of that uncertainty and ambiguity you’re referring to is an important part of a civilization’s development. And while it may seem as if you face existential threats on every side, the truth is that the occasional misstep is rarely fatal.”

  “I hope that’s true,” Reynolds sighed, stopping the grav cart in front of the shipyard’s administrative center. “Over the past year, I’ve found myself feeling increasingly pessimistic about our future.”

  “Have a little faith, Commander. On the whole, our species is far tougher and more resilient than you know,” Rick replied in a surprisingly resolute tone.

  Another pair of Marine guards saluted Commander Reynolds as she and Rick approached, then fell silently in behind them as they passed. “We’ll be meeting in Captain Oshiro’s office,” Reynolds said, gesturing towards the entrance to the center’s command section just a short distance down the corridor. “There will be a few TFC people in the room, and quite a few more attending via video conference. Primarily, however, this is a meeting between you, the Military Operations Oversight Committee members of our Leadership Council, and the Admiralty staff.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Commander.”

  “No problem. Please just keep in mind what I said earlier.”

  “I will indeed.”

  Chapter 6

  Earth, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  (Office of the Facility Commander)

  A few minutes later, amidst a room and vidcon filled with the wide-eyed stares Grey aliens always seemed to generate among their Terran cousins, Rick took a seat at Captain Oshiro’s conference room table.

  “Welcome … Rick,” Admiral Sexton began haltingly, his face displayed on a large view screen at one end of the room. “As you can imagine, we have a great many questions we would like to ask you. First and foremost, we must address whether your ship’s presence in the Sol system is creating a potentiall
y dangerous situation and setting the stage for additional conflict. I’m sure we can all agree that another military confrontation, particularly with the Pelaran Alliance, is something we would like to avoid, if possible. But you have made a number of comments leading us to believe you may have already been involved in some sort of conflict with the Pelarans. So let’s start with that. Should we be expecting trouble from them based on your being here?”

  “Thank you, Admiral Sexton. Our conflict is not with the Pelarans. As I mentioned to Captain Prescott earlier, their civilization, like yours, is a product of our colonization program. In fact, Pelara is arguably the single most successful Human world in the history of that program. Unfortunately, another lifeform has arisen in the Pelaran system, its advance so insidious that the Human population failed to recognize the threat it posed until it was too late. Now, they are held captive by it, developmentally stifled to such a degree that they have begun fighting among themselves — societal evolution thrown into reverse on a scale we have never before witnessed on any other world, Human or otherwise.”

  “The Pelarans are obviously quite advanced. How is it that they have allowed another lifeform to become dominant within their own system? What sort of lifeform is even capable of something like that?”

  “You’ve already met them, Admiral, so perhaps you can answer that question for yourself. One of their kind has orbited your world for over five hundred years.”

  “Are you telling us the damn Guardians have taken over the Pelaran Alliance, and that’s who we’ve actually been dealing with this whole time?” General Tucker asked.

  “Not the Guardian spacecraft, per se, General. The spacecraft and its various systems are really nothing more than tools, regardless of who happens to wield them. The lifeform of which I speak is the entity who ultimately controls those systems. We refer to it as the ‘Pelaran Strain’ — one of many known types of sentient artificial intelligence.”

 

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