by Tori Harris
“The Gresav will certainly be able to begin its attack before the target has an opportunity to return fire, but I cannot guarantee she will escape damage. We are stretching our own rules of engagement to the limit here, Admiral. We will transport the Gresav into the area, but the moment she fires, the area becomes an active combat zone. Unfortunately, that requires us to transition out immediately.”
“We’re grateful for whatever assistance you can provide, of course. As for the rest of the fleet, obviously, we weren’t expecting four enemy ships, so we’re going to have to improvise a bit. We’ll do our best to keep Golf 3 and Echo 1 busy until you have destroyed the first two Guardians, but I fully expect us to take quite a beating. Let’s just hope Griffin’s little trick works.”
“We have utilized a similar tactic in the past with some success,” Naftur said. “Good luck to you, Admiral.”
“To us all, sir. And thank you for standing with us once again. Alright, everyone, AI-synchronized execution orders in 3 … 2 … 1 …”
TFS Fugitive, Sol System
(98 km from Golf 1)
“AI slaved to the Flag for synchronized attack, sir,” Lieutenant Lau reported in a rapid cadence from the Tactical console. “Fire control and helm now under AI control.”
“Understood. Confirm single-round main gun attack and immediate C-Jump followed by three second hyperspace hold before main gun attack on secondary target.”
“Confirmed single-round main gun attack followed by immediate C-Jump and three second hyperspace hold before main gun attack on secondary target,” Lau echoed.
“Very well. You are clear to proceed.”
Over the bridge speakers, Admiral Patterson had just finished providing instructions to the Ethereal and Gresav and had now begun his countdown to initiate the attack: “… AI-synchronized execution orders in 3 … 2 … 1 …”
Immediately before the Admiral’s signal to fire, everyone aboard the small ship heard and felt a familiar metallic PING as a fifty-kilogram kinetic energy penetrator round entered the main gun’s breach and was forcibly centered between the weapon’s launch rails. A fraction of a second later, the projectile was streaking toward Golf 1 at over one-third the speed of light. Even at such a fantastic speed, however, the round had covered less than half the distance to its target before TFS Fugitive executed its AI-controlled transition, disappearing from normal space in a flash of grayish-white light.
“First round away,” Lau reported, speaking as quickly as possible. “Secondary target attack commencing … now.”
Earth’s curved, bluish-green horizon immediately reappeared near the bottom of the view screen, but rather than the expected image of Golf 2, Fugitive’s AI immediately focused its optical sensors on the Gresav. The Wek flagship, obviously heavily damaged with a long trail of fire and debris issuing from several tears in her massive hull, appeared to be in a slow, uncontrolled descent toward the planet below.
“Dubashi, try hailing the Gresav,” Prescott ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
“Where’s our target, Tactical?” Prescott continued, doing his best to remain focused in spite of the horrors being displayed in vivid detail on the bridge view screen.
“I don’t have a distinct debris field for Golf 2, Captain,” Lau reported, “but based on these readings, there’s no doubt the Gresav fired her G-cannon … probably several times, the way this looks. We’re also getting some sporadic antimatter annihilation events on our outer hull that might be consistent with a destroyed GCS unit. Best guess, Golf 2 was destroyed. Either way, we should transition out of this area, sir.”
“Understood. . .Helm, emergency C-Jump. Get us clear of the immediate area but maintain line of sight with the Gresav.”
“Aye, sir,” Fisher replied, “emergency C-Jumping.”
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 2.06x105 km from Earth)
Prior to the Envoy’s arrival, Admiral Patterson had designated two primary strike groups — each consisting of four cruisers, four destroyers, and three frigates — with the original intention of assigning each group a single enemy target. Having witnessed the destruction wrought by Pelaran antimatter beams on more than one occasion, however, he had hoped to avoid the necessity of any sort of direct engagement against the Guardian or Envoy-class ships. Unfortunately, the unexpected arrival of four such ships had left him little choice, particularly with Tahiri openly threatening to attack the Earth itself.
“All ships, weapons free. Attack your designated target at will,” he ordered, echoing the automated series of orders that had already caused all twenty-two ships to exit hyperspace and open fire with every weapon at their disposal.
“Good missile hits on both targets, Admiral,” the tactical officer reported. “Confirmed, two four missile impacts each.”
Two of the largest overhead screens mounted on the CIC’s port bulkhead were now dedicated to Echo 1 and Golf 3. By the time Patterson had shifted his gaze from the holo table to the nearest screen, both enemy ships had already emerged from the rapid series of explosions caused by twenty-four HB-7c missiles impacting against their shields.
“No apparent damage, sir,” the officer reported dismally.
“We’re not gonna win this thing with massed firepower, people. I want all ships in both task forces to spread out. Every single ship should be firing, immediately C-Jumping, then firing again. AIs to deconflict all C-Jumps and weapons fire.”
With no further action required in the Navajo’s CIC, the flagship’s battlespace AI interpreted and executed the CNO’s orders, immediately passing the required information to every Command console and AI aboard every TFC ship in the Sol system.
Chapter 22
TFS Fugitive, Sol System
(125 km from the Gresav)
“Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi announced as TFS Fugitive emerged once again from hyperspace, “no response from the Gresav, but we’re being hailed by Golf 1. It claims to be heavily damaged and says it is prepared to surrender if we will guarantee its safety.”
“We can’t, and we won’t. Lieutenant Lau, is that position accurate?” Prescott asked, nodding at the tactical plot on the starboard side of the view screen. “Looks to me like it’s still right where we left it.”
“Yes, sir, it may be unable to maneuver or transition. I’m getting good positional data from three independent sources at the moment and should be able to get eyes on target from the surface shortly,” Lau reported, his hands moving rapidly over the surface of his console. “Got it, sir,” he concluded a few seconds later as a somewhat blurry image of Golf 1 appeared in its own window on the bridge view screen.
“Regardless of whether it can move, it’s still in a position to fire on the surface, and we have no way of determining if it’s still able to do so, let alone if it actually wants to surrender. But if it’s unable to maneuver or transition, I’d say there’s also a reasonably good chance its shields are either weakened or offline. Let’s target it with a spread of missiles, Lieutenant. Six should do it. I want simultaneous detonations with the maximum safe yield taking into account the target’s proximity to the planet. Fire when ready.”
“Six HB-7c missiles aye, sir. Safe explosive yield calculated at two three percent.”
Glancing briefly at his XO, Prescott was surprised to see what appeared to be a look of uncertainty clouding her face. “We can’t risk allowing it to surrender, Commander,” he said quietly.
“No, it’s not that at all, Captain. Under the circumstances, I don’t think we have much of a choice. It’s just the precedent of refusing to give quarter that concerns me.”
“Missiles away,” Lieutenant Lau reported.
“Lieutenant Lee, do you have a projected point of impact for the Gresav?” Prescott asked, returning his attention to the now rapidly accelerating Wek destroyer in the center of the view screen.
“Yes, Captain, the South Pacific Ocean approximately forty-eight hundred kilometers west nor
thwest of Santiago, Chile. Fleet has already passed along tsunami warnings to the civil authorities for the entire coast of South America and north extending all the way up to San Diego. Time to impact, six minutes.”
“Missiles transitioning … impacts,” Lau reported from the Tactical console, as the already washed-out image of Golf 1 on the view screen suddenly went completely white. A few seconds later, the ground-based optical sensor adjusted its field of view to show a rapidly expanding ball of plasma in the daytime sky. For the second time in the space of a single day, the death throes of a Guardian spacecraft were easily visible from surface of the Earth.
“I think we got him, sir. Confirming now,” Lau said, continuing his steady stream of reports. “Confirmed. Golf 1 destroyed.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Prescott replied, still staring at the image of the Gresav, her hull now beginning to glow an angry red as she entered the upper reaches of the atmosphere.
“We have to keep moving,” Reynolds prompted quietly. “There’s nothing we can do for them now.”
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 3.06x105 km from Earth)
At the CIC holographic table, Admiral Patterson rapidly adjusted the display to center on elements of Strike Group 2, which the Pelaran Envoy had apparently chosen to bear the brunt of his first round of attacks.
“The Nunga is taking heavy fire from Echo 1, Admiral,” his tactical officer reported.
“Let’s see it on overhead 2, Commander,” he ordered.
A real-time image of the huge, Navajo-class cruiser instantly appeared, obviously taking tremendous damage from the Pelaran ship’s beam weapons. To the admiral’s eyes, TFS Nunga appeared to be receiving hundreds of simultaneous hits along her entire length. Shield intercept events merged with the Envoy ship’s transition flashes to form a ghostly, halo-like effect around the cruiser’s hull. Although she was clearly attempting to return fire, the Nunga’s efforts looked decidedly feeble by comparison.
Too fast, Patterson thought as a shadow of despair crept from the dark recesses of his mind. They’re just too fast for us. “Nunga, emergency C-Jump!”
***
Thus far, the Terran ships had been attempting to beat the Pelarans at their own game: C-Jumping into a new firing position, attempting to acquire a target, firing (if possible), then C-Jumping to a new position to start the process again. In this case, however, having greater numbers of larger ships was quickly proving to be a significant disadvantage against the small, inhumanly fast Envoy. Tahiri, quickly recognizing the fact that his hyperspace targeting scanner was of little use with all of the hyperdrive activity taking place in the area (particularly that of the incredibly irritating Terran Guardian), had adjusted his tactics to compensate. With so many targets available, most of which were quite large, he simply waited — transitioning only when necessary to avoid incoming fire — until a Terran ship transitioned into close proximity.
The wait, although seemingly endless from the Envoy’s perspective, had taken only seconds. Fully confident in his ability to obliterate his target, then move on to the next before taking fire himself, Tahiri had begun the destruction of the Terran fleet by attacking one of their largest capital ships. Fitting, he thought, as he began a rapid series of transitions intended to place his onboard weapons in a position to tear the massive ship apart in the shortest amount of time possible.
Terran Guardian Spacecraft, Sol System
(2.06x105 km from Earth)
Too slow, Griffin thought. The Terrans are far too slow. Although it now appeared Fugitive and Gresav had been surprisingly successful in their attacks against the first two Guardian spacecraft, there was little chance of something similar happening with the two remaining Pelaran ships. They won’t even begin to realize the battle is lost for some time, he added, beginning another in a long series of diversionary hyperspace transitions.
As if to underscore his rather bleak assessment of the current tactical situation, TFS Nunga exploded with a level of violence far exceeding anything Griffin had ever achieved in any of his own attacks. The Envoy’s firing pattern seemed to indicate Tahiri had taken his time with his first attack, choosing to completely obliterate one of the most powerful Terran ships rather than simply disable it and move on to the next target. And although it was tempting to assume this demonstration of overwhelming firepower might be designed to motivate the Humans to surrender, Griffin knew it was nothing of the sort. This fight had become personal. The Terrans, and any remnants of the technology they had been given, would be erased from existence.
Continuing to scan the battlespace as he transitioned from one side to the other, Griffin considered thousands of possibilities for executing a direct attack against one of the two remaining enemy ships. If Golf 3 were to be damaged or destroyed, he thought, there is a marginal increase in the probability of at least one TFC ship surviving the battle … only a three percent increase, but an increase nonetheless.
As the likelihood of a Terran defeat continued to increase moment by moment, two critical pieces of information surfaced within the sea of data streaming through Griffin’s consciousness. First, the GCS designated as Golf 3, was, in fact, the Krayleck Guardian. Second, it appeared to be deliberately avoiding direct attacks on Terran ships in the area.
Without hesitation, TFS Guardian transitioned as closely as possible to the Krayleck Guardian’s last known position. Pausing for less than a millisecond, Griffin transmitted the same data stream he had used to recruit nearly half the GCS units in the area before the attack on the ALAI starbase. After three quick transitions during which he continued to broadcast the message, he received a reply.
Terran Guardian Cultivation System, Krayleck Guardian Cultivation System. Identification confirmed. Initial query acknowledged. Alliance AI activities in Pelaran system as well as Envoy attack on Terran Dominion assets appear inconsistent with cultivation program mission directives. Insufficient data available to warrant further military action at this time.
With that, Golf 3 transitioned, departing the area in the general direction of the Legara system.
During the mere seconds it had taken Griffin to remove the Krayleck Guardian from the battlespace, the Envoy’s ship had already managed to ensnare another Terran ship. Now, in a scene almost identical to what had occurred just moments before with the Nunga, Tahiri had managed to score several hits on the cruiser Scythian. Just as before, the comparatively tiny Pelaran ship seemed to flicker around the mighty cruiser, quickly inflicting sufficient damage to prevent its escape before beginning the process of destroying it in detail.
TFS Navajo, Sol System
(Combat Information Center - 2.85x105 km from Earth)
“Admiral, incoming Emergency Action message from TFS Guardian,” Lieutenant Fletcher reported.
“I don’t have time for any of his nonsense at the moment, Lieutenant,” Patterson snapped without taking his eyes off the rapidly changing holographic display.
“I understand, sir, but I think you’ll definitely want to see this. I think Griffin may be about to do something drastic.”
“What?” Patterson replied, rounding on the young officer with an uncharacteristic flash of frustration and anger registering in his eyes.
“I’m summarizing here, sir, but he says TFS Scythian is lost and that all remaining TFC ships within fifty thousand kilometers must enter hyperspace immediately. Frankly, I think we should comply, Admiral … right now.”
“AI, Patterson. Emergency C-Jump all ships to fallback position Charlie. Hyperspace hold. Execute!” the CNO roared.
A fraction of a second after receiving and authenticating the admiral’s order, the Navajo’s battlespace AI had successfully coordinated what amounted to a mass retreat of all Fleet assets in the vicinity of Earth. In addition to the twenty remaining ships currently assigned to Strike Groups 1 and 2, the carriers Ushant and Philippine Sea, TFS Fugitive, as well as all of the other warships Admiral Patterson had been holding i
n reserve immediately transitioned to a location near Earth-Sun Lagrange Point 4.
“Tactical, report!” Patterson commanded.
“All remaining ships accounted for with the exception of TFS Guardian, Admiral. Local Fleet status is hyperspace hold at fallback position Charlie.”
“Thank you, Commander. All ships are to continue to hold here until receiving further orders.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Lieutenant Fletcher, I think you’d better let me see the full text of that Emergency Action Message now.”
“Yes, sir. View screen four.”
Taking a deep breath as he worked to refocus his mind, Patterson turned to read TFS Guardian’s text.
Z1833
TOP SECRET - MAGI PRIME
FM: CAPTAIN GRIFFIN — ABOARD TFS GUARDIAN
TO: EAM — CNO — ABOARD TFS NAVAJO
INFO: ATTACK ON ECHO 1 COMMENCING IMMEDIATELY
1. TFS SCYTHIAN UNDER HEAVY ATTACK FROM ECHO 1 AND PRESUMED LOST.
2. TFS GUARDIAN CALCULATES PROBABILITY OF TFC / TERRAN SURVIVAL NOW LESS THAN EIGHT PERCENT AND DECREASING.
3. CURRENT ECHO 1 ATTACK PRESENTS TACTICAL OPPORTUNITY THAT MAY NOT BE REPEATED.
4. ALL TFC VESSELS WITHIN FIFTY THOUSAND KILOMETERS OF TFS SCYTHIAN MUST TRANSITION TO HYPERSPACE IMMEDIATELY.
5. ALL VESSELS WITHIN THE FIFTY THOUSAND KILOMETER RADIUS WILL BE DESTROYED — NO FURTHER WARNINGS WILL BE ISSUED.
6. IT HAS BEEN MY HONOR TO SERVE YOU. TFS GUARDIAN SENDS.
“Get me a comlink with TFS Fugitive, and send Prescott this EAM, please,” the admiral ordered without further comment.
“Aye, sir,” the comm officer replied, quickly keying in the required commands at her console.
“Fugitive-actual here,” Prescott replied moments later. “Go ahead, Admiral.”
“Captain Prescott, I need you to read the Flash traffic from TFS Guardian we just forwarded you …”