TFS Theseus: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 2

by Tori Harris

  Now, for the next ten and a half hours, the two Hunter RPSVs would simply wait as the visible sphere of space surrounding their position expanded at just over one billion kilometers per hour.

  TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  On his way back to Theseus, Prescott finally took a few minutes to survey the damage to his ship. Since there was nothing in his (or any other Human being’s) previous experience to use as a comparison, he had no idea what to expect. Nevertheless, the damage was much more extensive than he would have guessed. To put it mildly, the ship was a mess. The most visually striking aspect of the damage was that it seemed to cover the entire hull. In fact, it looked as if there wasn’t a single square centimeter he could have walked up and touched that had been unaffected by thermal damage of some sort. As energy weapon bolts had struck the hull, those with sufficient power had melted, or even vaporized, layers of armor until their energy was consumed. Each time this had happened — and it had obviously happened many, many times — molten metal had splattered the surrounding area and then quickly re-solidified, resulting in a general disfigurement of the frigate’s once proud appearance.

  As Prescott made his way around the bow, he noticed a repair crew that appeared to be assessing the missile impact damage to Ingenuity’s starboard hull. As he approached, what he saw above halted him dead in his tracks. He had in fact walked this same path immediately following Ingenuity’s landing several hours earlier, but in his rush to get the process of transferring his command underway, he had been too distracted to notice the extent of the damage until now. The missile impact area was located nearly forty meters above the level of the wharf, where the uppermost section of the ship’s hull smoothly transitioned into her dorsal surface. For several minutes, Prescott paced back and forth along the platform between Ingenuity and Theseus, craning his neck in an attempt to get the best possible view. He was simultaneously fascinated and shocked by what he saw. Although from an engineering perspective Prescott had a general idea of how nuclear-tipped missiles designed to detonate in the vacuum of space were configured, he had, of course, never had the opportunity to see the damage caused by such a weapon. By and large, the weapons were designed to generate what might be referred to as a massive, nuclear-powered plasma cutter. To create this effect, materials included inside the body of the missile and within the warhead itself flash-vaporized to produce a shaped-charge jet of ionized plasma traveling at over half the speed of light. In an ideal case, the missile would be situated so that the center of this superheated cone would come into contact with the target’s hull at very close range. Luckily for Ingenuity, and most of her crew, the missile had been thrown off course at the last moment and forced into opting for a proximity detonation rather than missing its target altogether. The orientation of the warhead had channeled the blast along a path roughly parallel to the upper section of the ship’s starboard hull, resulting in the majority of its destructive power streaming harmlessly away into space. Even a glancing blow from the atomic fury unleashed by the weapon had caused a level of damage that was truly frightening to behold, however. Although it seemed like a strange analogy, the area of impact reminded Prescott of the way a new box of ice cream looked after someone had taken a particularly generous first scoop. The damage began on the side of the ship with some scoring and a shallow scar, growing progressively deeper towards the top of the hull. At its deepest point, it appeared that nearly the entire two-and-a-half-meter-thick hull had been gouged away. An involuntary chill ran down the length of Prescott’s spine as he considered the catastrophic structural failure that could have occurred if the angle of impact had been modified just slightly …

  “We got awfully lucky, there, sir,” Kip Logan said, unintentionally startling his captain as he approached from behind. He had noticed Prescott staring pensively at the damage and thought it appropriate to give him a few moments to be alone with his thoughts before starting a conversation. “Sorry about that. I thought you saw me.”

  “No, that’s alright, Commander. I was about to come find you anyway. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to take a look at the damage. I guess I was in my own little world there for a few moments.”

  “Understandable, Captain. It’s actually quite a bit worse than I thought at the time, and I should have known better. We have pretty much one hundred percent visibility of the hull when we’re in space, but most of the optical sensors are collocated with the close-in weapon system turrets. We lost three of those to the impact, so the video feeds lacked the fidelity they usually have. It looked like we had lost a meter at the most, but still had several of the outer armor layers intact. See that deepest point up there at the top where it looks a little shiny in the middle? That’s her inner hull, so there was only thirty centimeters or so between us and an explosive decompression.”

  “So we probably had no business straining her with a combat landing,” Prescott said.

  “I probably would have said no, just to be on the safe side, but we were still in pretty good shape structurally. It’s just a good thing we didn’t take another hit in that area, that’s all,” Logan chuckled, trying to lighten the rather dire tone of their conversation a bit. “I gotta tell you, though, this thing is a beast,” he said, turning and gesturing with both hands towards TFS Theseus on the opposite side of the wharf.

  “It’s funny you would refer to her that way. Captain Ogima Davis on the Navajo said exactly the same thing about his ship earlier today.”

  “‘Navajo-Actual’ said that? You do know he’s an actual Navajo, right?” Logan laughed. “If I were him, I’d call myself “actual Navajo” every time I got on the radio.”

  “You might not as a junior captain with a vice admiral who just happens to be the chief of naval operations looking over your shoulder.”

  “No, I guess not, but you have to admit it’s a pretty cool coincidence. In all seriousness, Captain, the Navajo-class cruisers are incredibly powerful weapons platforms, but until they receive all of the upgrades Theseus here has, they couldn’t touch us in a fight. One on one, we would absolutely tear her to pieces. In fact, I’m guessing we would be more than a match for several Navajo-class ships.”

  Prescott stared, incredulous, assuming that his chief engineer was either still joking around or indulging in a bit of false bravado on behalf of his new ship. “Well, I’m pleased that you are so enthusiastic about your new charge. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I have barely had time to even begin digging into her systems, but surely she’s not that much more potent than the Ingenuity-class.”

  “Don’t worry too much about wading through the owner’s manual, Captain, I’ve got you covered. I’ll be briefing our bridge crews and senior staff on quite a few of the new systems tomorrow,” Logan replied, smiling broadly. “But, no, I’m not exaggerating in the least. The reason Fleet delayed the destroyers out of the gate was to equip them with the newest and best of everything we have available tech-wise. If it wasn’t for the situation with the Resistance, none of our ships would have launched until integration with the most critical of these new systems had been completed. Pulling together the data needed to do some final tweaks and calibration was one of the main drivers behind everything we were asked to do with Ingenuity over the past couple of months.”

  “Alright, you’re forcing me to show my ignorance here, but you’re mainly talking about the shield systems, correct?”

  Logan paused and looked around furtively to ensure that no one was close enough to overhear their conversation.

  “It’s okay, Commander, the classification level of this entire facility has been raised to MAGI PRIME. With all of the new systems coming online, it had reached a point where it just wasn’t possible to work aboard, or even in the vicinity of one of our ships without having the highest level of clearance. Otherwise, we’d have no business having this conversation out in the open like this, even if we didn’t think anyone was within earshot.”

  “You’re right, of course,” L
ogan replied with a suspicious grin. “You were testing me with that question, weren’t you?”

  “Not really, no,” Prescott laughed. “I’m way too tired for that, but it’s always good to be reminded of how easy it is to create a breach of classified information. So, you were saying …”

  “Right, the shields are most definitely at the top of the list, and they will make up the lion’s share of what I’ll be covering tomorrow. It’s not just the shields, though. Pretty much every system has been improved. Power-handling is dramatically better, for example. Theseus has six antimatter reactors, each of which generates about fifty percent more power than both of Ingenuity’s combined. During combat ops, assuming all six reactors are online, we should be able to dedicate three of them to propulsion and the other three to weapons. So at any given time, there should be plenty of power available for firing all of our weapons more or less continuously while at the same time always having the option to C-Jump out of the area, if needed. I’ll even go so far as to say that we should have an excess of power available, even if only four of the six reactors remain online.”

  “That’s a major improvement alright. I’m assuming the reactors used for weapons will also feed the shields.”

  “Yes and no. I probably mischaracterized how things actually work when I mentioned dedicating reactors to certain systems. One of the biggest improvements is that the AI is now able to continuously vary how much power is being used by and routed to any given system. It’s set up with a number of default priorities that we can tweak over time, but with such an excess of generating capacity available, you’ll probably never realize how big of a deal it is until we get in a situation where we only have one or two reactors online, God forbid. As far as the shields go, it’s not far from the truth to say that the same power used for weapons is also used for the shields, since they don’t technically operate at the same time … at least not in the same area, if that makes sense.”

  “It doesn’t. So are you saying we still lose our shields when firing the weapons? I thought the Science and Engineering Directorate guys had found some sort of workaround for that.”

  “Alright, sir, you’re starting to steal my thunder from tomorrow’s briefing.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry about that, Cheng. I’m sure we’ll both be better able to grasp the more technical aspects of this discussion after some much needed sleep.”

  “Well that’s new, you hardly ever call me ‘Cheng,’” Logan chuckled. The term originated from the abbreviation for Chief Engineer and was still sometimes used aboard naval vessels as a substitute for the officer’s name and/or rank as well as an informal show of respect for the important position.

  “I’ve called you much worse,” Prescott replied with a wry grin.

  “True enough. Just let me sum up by saying that under anything like what we might consider ‘normal circumstances,’ it could easily take a century or more of progress to go from the capabilities of that ship, to this ship,” Logan said, pointing behind Prescott towards Ingenuity and then gesturing in grand fashion towards Theseus. “I know that seems a little ridiculous, but it’s all about where we are on the timeline of implementing all of the newest Pelaran and Grey-enhanced tech into each individual ship. Luckily, all four classes were designed to accommodate the systems that were already in the pipeline, so now it’s just a matter of retrofitting each ship as quickly as possible. Before Ingenuity over there is ready to go back into space in a few weeks, she’ll be a completely different animal than the ship we took into battle.”

  “Well that may be, but she served us pretty well, don’t you think?”

  “Yes indeed, sir. She did at that.”

  TFS Navajo

  (0950 UTC)

  “Admiral Patterson,” Ensign Fletcher called from the opposite side of the Navajo’s Combat Information Center, “I’ve got a secure laser comlink signal from the Guardian spacecraft — audio only. It’s addressed to you personally, sir.”

  “Silence on deck!” Patterson bellowed.

  The CIC typically had an air not unlike that of a library. The subdued lighting, as well as the ever-present threat of a lurking flag officer, had a tendency to suppress the sound of conversation in the room to the point where little more than the background rumble of the ship’s engines punctuated by the hum and occasional chirp of electronic systems could be heard. As the time for the expected contact from the Guardian had approached, however, the room had become uncharacteristically noisy and chaotic.

  “I’m about to open a channel with this thing and I need this room quiet and focused. If you don’t have a good reason to be here, now would be a good time to excuse yourself,” he announced in a tone that sent several officers quietly hastening for the exit. “Any changes that we can see, Lieutenant?” Patterson asked the young female officer at the holographic display in the center of the room.

  “None, sir. The target has maintained its current position for over nine hours now. We have detected no emissions since immediately after we discontinued all of our active scans.”

  Patterson noted the tactical officer’s use of the word “target” to describe the Guardian spacecraft with deep satisfaction. You’re damn right it’s a target … hostile until proven otherwise. “Very good, Lieutenant. Ensign Fletcher, open the channel please.”

  “Aye, sir,” she replied, followed immediately by a chime indicating an active comm channel had been established.

  “This is Admiral Kevin Patterson aboard the Terran Fleet Command starship TFS Navajo.” Patterson paused, having no idea what to expect.

  “Good morning, Admiral Patterson,” came the immediate reply. The voice was male, undeniably friendly in tone, and to the CNO’s ear, seemed to have the rather bland, unaccented English of the American Midwest where he grew up. “The purpose of my call is merely to confirm that your ship is prepared to act as a relay for my conversation with your Leadership Council at 1000 Zulu. I also wanted to take the opportunity to reassure you that your forces are in no danger whatsoever. Well … no danger from me at least,” it chuckled.

  Patterson wasn’t entirely sure what he was hearing. Did this thing just laugh at its own joke? Somewhat taken aback and unsure how to respond, he glanced at Ensign Fletcher, his narrowed eyes communicating what everyone within earshot was wondering … what the hell? The young ensign arched her eyebrows and shrugged noncommittally, happy that she wasn’t the one who had to decide what to say next.

  “I, uh … I’m happy to hear that. I, likewise, hope that we have not given the impression that we mean you any harm.”

  “Oh no,” it laughed, as if such an assertion was humorous, based simply on how ridiculous it was. “Your considerable forces have kept a respectable distance and have obviously been working very hard to avoid doing anything provocative. I realize that’s quite a challenge for a ship of war, so I appreciate the sentiment. Please feel free to carry on with whatever operations you have underway. It is my understanding that Terra is under threat of attack from forces belonging to the Sajeth Collective. I noted, with interest, the departure of a significant number of your scouting vessels a few hours ago. May I assume that their mission is to pinpoint the location of the enemy vessels?”

  “As I’m sure you can understand, I am not at liberty to discuss military operations without specific instructions to do so from the TFC Leadership Council,” Patterson replied. Well, I guess that settles the question as to whether our secure communications are compromised, he thought bitterly. And it wanted to make sure I knew it too.

  “A wise and understandable precaution, Admiral. I hope we will have the opportunity to discuss this situation further after our meeting with the Council. I’m especially interested in learning how you managed to acquire the intelligence that appears to be guiding your search efforts. But no matter, please continue to deploy your forces as you see fit.”

  Uh huh, you know damn well how we know, Patterson thought. “Thank you,” he answered in as pleasant a tone as he could manage. He w
as already annoyed at the prospect of needing to mince words with this alien machine, and even more irritated that it had just condescendingly granted “permission” for him to do his job. “To answer your first question, yes, we will be happy to provide secure comlinks between yourself and all of the other participants in the call.”

  “Oh, it is far more than a mere ‘call,’ Admiral Patterson. This will mark the beginning of your world’s induction into the greatest alliance of civilizations in the history of our galaxy. Today will ultimately be recorded as the single most important day in the history of your world.”

  “Well then,” Patterson replied, clearing his throat, “that being said, I am honored to assist you in any way I can. We will establish secure comm with all parties in just a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Admiral Patterson. I look forward to working with you. Guardian out.”

  Chapter 7

  Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters

  (1000 UTC - Leadership Council meeting chamber)