by Tori Harris
While smaller than average compared to other planets Humanity had long referred to as ‘terrestrial,’ Earth’s iron/nickel core resulted in a density that was significantly above the norm. This, of course, also meant that Earth’s mass was quite high for her size compared to other habitable worlds. Contrary to popular belief, a given planet’s surface gravity was not necessarily higher than another’s simply because it was physically larger. While surface gravity did indeed increase with a planet’s mass, it actually decreased with the square of the planet’s radius. The Wek home world of Graca, for example, while possessing nearly double the Earth’s land mass and a planetary diameter roughly twenty percent larger than Earth’s, had a surface gravity of only 7.85 m/s2. This was largely due to the fact that the planet’s density was closer to that of Mars — a full one-third less than that of the Earth.
The twenty-percent increase in gravity coupled with a slightly lower atmospheric pressure and oxygen content made heavy physical exertion a bit of a challenge for the two Wek. Fortunately, both were in excellent overall physical condition and had been on Earth long enough to begin the process of adapting to the environment. Although breathing heavily, neither had much difficulty keeping pace with their Human companions.
“Will the neighboring structure be occupied at this time of day?” Naftur asked as they paused at the entrance to the skyway leading across to the JAG facility.
“Normally, I would say no,” Sexton replied, “but with everything that’s been going on with the Council, it wouldn’t surprise me if there are a few people already in the office. I doubt a few lawyers and custodial staff are what we need to be worried about at this point, though. Sergeant, I think you were probably right about the HQSEC guards downstairs. It was probably just a random patrol … maybe even just one guy.”
“Yes, sir. Otherwise, I think they would have been right on our heels. The bad news is that they will have help on the way by now, so we need to keep moving. At the other end of the skyway, hang a left and head towards the stairwell — it will be the last door on the right at the end of the hallway. There should be an external door on the ground floor that will allow us to exit behind the building. We can run the length of the skyway ahead, but I need all of you to stop before we reach the end so that I can clear the intersecting hallway.”
Run they did — loudly. Upon reaching the halfway point, Sexton realized that something about the structural properties of the skyway had the effect of magnifying the sound of their crossing into something approaching that of a herd of wildebeests in a mad rush to escape a pride of hungry lionesses. While the irony of such a comparison was still forming in his mind, he noticed that both Wek had removed their shoes at some point, and, unlike the two Humans’ pounding gaits, their footfalls were virtually silent.
The Marine sergeant slowed to a brisk walk as he approached the hallway ahead, then strolled as casually as possible around the corner to the left while motioning with his head for the others to follow. Although a few voices could be heard coming from some of the offices, no one seemed to pay particular attention to their passing, and they were soon in the stairwell heading down to the ground floor.
“Alright, everyone,” Sexton said, risking a more conversational volume upon reaching the external door, “I honestly don’t think there is much point in making a run for it once we are outside. We have to cross a relatively open common area for the first fifty meters or so behind this building, and I think the four of us running will do nothing but get us noticed. Do you agree, Sergeant?”
“Well, sir, the problem is that we’re likely to stand out this time of day no matter what we do, but, yes, I think we should avoid looking any more suspicious than we have to. Once we reach the tree line, we should have some pretty good cover all the way to the LZ.”
“Very good. Everyone ready?” Sexton asked. Since the encounter with the HQSEC guard back in the Marine barracks, his mind had been preoccupied with the moral ambiguity of the current situation. Arranging for the two Wek to leave TFC Headquarters before any orders to the contrary had been issued was one thing, but now that it was clear that the Council’s security contingent had been given orders to detain them, it would be much more difficult to justify his actions. Was this what mutineers always felt like when in the act of defying their superiors? Could he trust his own judgment in a case like this? He wasn’t sure it mattered at this point, and he was certain that he didn’t give a damn either way. The Commander in Chief, TFC had gone through this particular scenario in his mind countless times over the past week, and, right or wrong, believed that his duty was clear. He would see the two Wek safely aboard the Theseus because he firmly believed that Admiral Naftur offered the best chance — perhaps the only chance — of preventing an attack from the Resistance task force. That, he believed, was the single course of action he could take that best supported TFC’s most important mission of defending the planet. He would leave it to the historians to determine if he had made the right call.
Receiving nods all around, Admiral Sexton opened the door and proceeded outside. It was a frigid, April Fool’s Day morning with a heavy white frost covering the grass-covered common areas behind the JAG Building. As they walked, the water vapor in their breath condensed into small, puffy clouds in front of them. Looking off in the direction of the landing pad, Sexton also noted that Headquarters was socked in with heavy fog, resulting in something approaching zero visibility.
Trying their best not to give the impression that they were running from something, the small group followed the diagonal path leading towards the picnic pavilion located near the center of the park-like common area behind the JAG Building. They walked two by two, with the Humans even attempting a bit of small talk in an effort to seem as unremarkable as possible. As they passed the pavilion, a low-flying formation of Canadian Geese crossed the sky having recently — and rather optimistically, Sexton thought — begun their trip north for the summer months. The surprisingly loud wingbeats and flight calls as the birds passed overhead briefly distracted all four members of the small party. Not even the keen hearing possessed by the two Wek detected the faint clicks and whining sounds as over forty pulse rifles were powered up and trained in their direction.
Chapter 15
TFS Theseus
(On standard autodeparture from the Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility)
“We are clear of the entrance tunnel and free to maneuver, Captain,” Ensign Fisher reported from the Helm console as TFS Theseus took to the sky for her first operational flight. To ensure adequate in-flight separation from commercial air and space traffic during their short trip to TFC Headquarters, Theseus’ AI had coordinated with both Los Angeles and Denver Air Route Traffic Control. Although the ship was still required to file a flight plan similar to those used by other aircraft, TFC starships generally received priority routing and were granted much more autonomy to choose their altitudes and flight paths — as long as they could do so without posing a danger to other aircraft or those on the ground. Aboard Theseus, the result was a graphical display of exactly where the destroyer was and was not allowed to fly, updated in real-time on the massive wrap-around view screen lining the front of the bridge.
“Very good, Ensign. Proceed as filed,” Prescott replied with the calmest and most professionally detached tone he could muster at the moment as the warship made the transition from AI-control to being ‘hand flown’ for the first time.
The autodeparture had been uneventful, from the standpoint of nothing unexpected having taken place, but nerve-wracking nonetheless for everyone involved. This included Yucca Mountain Control, which had technically still been responsible for the ship until control authority was passed to her crew. The entire departure — from the first, tentative application of reverse thrust to exit Berth Ten until her dramatic passage through the massive blast doors at the end of the two-kilometer-long entrance tunnel — had taken less than two minutes. Now, as Fisher pointed the ship’s bow forty-five degrees above the hor
izon, Theseus leapt effortlessly into the morning sky above the Amargosa Valley, the breathtaking scale of her power beginning to tell for the first time.
“Dear God,” Fisher muttered under his breath, already feeling like the ship was getting a little ahead of him only seconds after leaving the shipyard. “This thing really does scare the hell out of me.”
“Easy, Blake,” Prescott soothed, “just another day at the office. Her flight characteristics should be almost identical to Ingenuity’s, right?”
“Yes and no, sir,” Fisher replied, manually rocking the massive warship along her longitudinal axis in an effort to get a better feel for how she responded to control inputs. “For lack of a better term, the ‘feel’ is just … different. For one thing, there’s no lag at all. Ingenuity was responsive, sure, but this thing responds instantly — no hesitation whatsoever. I also can’t feel the ship respond in the seat of my pants like I could with Ingenuity.”
“Ah, well that part does make sense. The gravitic systems have dramatically more power available, so you shouldn’t expect to feel the same delay you did with Ingenuity. When you make a control movement and place a G-load on the ship, inertial dampening should happen in near real-time. We should also be capable of more aggressive maneuvers without exceeding the 6-G crew limit internally.”
“That all sounds great, sir, but right now I’ll settle for her and me coming to some kind of an understanding,” Fisher laughed.
“Captain,” Reynolds reported, “Lieutenant Lee — Marine First Lieutenant Jackson Lee, that is — reports that his two squads are suited up and ready to deploy. They will be waiting in two of the Gurkha ASVs until you give the go order.”
“But they’re not actually deploying in the Gurkhas, correct?”
“That’s correct, sir. With their new combat EVA suits, they prefer not to mount up for short-range deployments. That way, they don’t all bunch up in one spot and become a single target of opportunity. Two of the Gurkhas will still deploy with the Marine squads for fire support, however. While the squads are waiting on the hangar deck, the ASVs provide a convenient place to strap themselves in until they get a ‘green deck’ signal.”
“Understood. With any luck, their services won’t be needed, but I’m pretty sure two squads of Marines — well, these two squads of Marines in particular — should provide quite a deterrent in case we run into any problems.”
“We’ve got enough problems waiting for us topside, sir,” Reynolds said. “I’d appreciate having at least one part of our mission turn out to be a cake walk.”
“That reminds me … Lieutenant Lee,” Prescott called, raising his voice so that the young lieutenant at the Science and Engineering console could hear, “we need to come up with some way to refer to you and your brother so that everyone knows who we’re talking about.”
Although TFC had a relatively short history, as well as relatively few installations to which young officers could be assigned, it was still unusual for two siblings to share a duty station, let alone be deployed aboard the same ship. Strangely enough, TFC Navy Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Jayston Lee and his fraternal twin brother, TFC Marine First Lieutenant Jackson Lee, were originally from Alice Springs, Australia, less than forty kilometers from the Pine Gap Shipyard Facility. Pine Gap, along with the nearly identical facilities at Yamantau Mountain in Russia and Yucca Mountain in the U.S., had been the construction sites for all of Fleet’s capital ships. The only exception had been Ingenuity, which had been constructed with great fanfare and in full view of the public near Tokyo, Japan as part of the massive disinformation campaign surrounding the MAGI PRIME program. After receiving his commission as a TFC officer, Jayston’s first assignment had been to join the crew of the Theseus at Yucca Mountain to assist in her fitting out and then ultimately deploy with the destroyer. Jackson, on the other hand, ended up being assigned to a “black” engineering project working on a prototype for a new type of combat EVA suit being put through its paces at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. The fact that the two brothers had ended up aboard the same ship had been purely coincidental, as was the fact that, like Theseus herself, today’s mission would be the first operational use of the new combat EVA suit.
“I was thinking we could call your brother ‘Lieutenant Jackson,’ or maybe ‘Lieutenant Jacks,’” Reynolds said. “Do you think he’d have a problem with that?”
“Oh, we should definitely go with ‘Jacks,’ ma’am. Our mum tried that one time and he absolutely hated it,” Lee laughed.
“Well, there’s a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one,” Prescott said with a smile.
“No, in all seriousness, Captain, it won’t be a problem. Believe it or not, we had an instructor at the Defense Force Academy come up with the same solution, and it has stuck with him ever since. In fact, I’m sure his platoon already calls him Jacks … to his face at least.”
“Alright, there you have it,” Prescott chuckled. “Please let our Marine platoon commander know that he is officially dubbed ‘Lieutenant Jacks’ until further notice. We’ll give him a chance to air his grievances later.”
“Aye, sir,” Reynolds replied, reflecting that it might have been a better choice to pick on the Navy lieutenant rather than the Marine one.
Whenever possible, military air and spacecraft were required to attenuate their sonic boom footprint during overflights of populated areas. For today’s flight, Theseus’ AI calculated that the ship’s gravitic fields could prevent its sonic booms from reaching the ground as long as her airspeed remained under two thousand six hundred kph. This rather leisurely pace also allowed ground-based controllers to more easily keep the massive ship clear of other traffic during its transit. After quickly reaching her relatively low en route altitude of forty-five thousand feet and at just over Mach two, Theseus covered the one-thousand-kilometer distance to HQTFC in just under twenty-four minutes.
As the ship neared its destination and began its descent, Prescott somewhat uncharacteristically stood and walked around to the front of the bridge. “Listen up for just a moment, everyone. Without going into too much detail, I feel it’s important to give you an idea of what’s going on at Headquarters, and why we are taking the ship there to pick up Admiral Naftur and Ambassador Turlaka rather than simply shuttling them over to meet up with us. The political situation worldwide has become unstable in the wake of the Guardian’s, uh … shall we say ‘invitation’ for Earth to join the Pelaran Alliance. Unfortunately, that instability appears to be affecting TFC just as it is all other governmental bodies around the world. Recently, a number of decisions have been handed down by the Council that threaten to undermine our ability as a military force to provide for Earth’s defense. You should also be aware that the contingent of Marines who normally provide security on the Headquarters campus were dismissed last week and replaced with what you might refer to as a private military force. Frankly, it is unclear whom these troops are taking orders from at this point, so it is difficult to predict how they might respond to our arrival. I don’t want to sound alarmist or dramatic, but there is at least a chance that they may try to prevent us from accomplishing our mission of evacuating the two Wek. We cannot allow this to happen. As you know, Admiral Naftur, as well as the TFC Admiralty, believe that putting Naftur in direct contact with the Resistance forces offers our last, best chance of preventing an attack on Earth.
“Why am I telling you all of this? Well, that’s where things might get a little dicey. Ultimately, our military forces take their orders from the Leadership Council, and we absolutely recognize their authority to issue lawful orders per the TFC charter. We don’t have time for me to deliver a lecture on duty and professional ethics at the moment,” he paused, smiling wanly, “so let me come straight to the point. At the moment, the situation with the Leadership Council has become so unstable that it is unclear — to me at least — that they are in a position to issue lawful orders. If, therefore, I am ordered by anyone not in our TFC military chain of command to stand down an
d not retrieve Naftur and Turlaka, I do not intend to comply.”
Prescott paused to allow the gravity of what he was saying to weigh on his officers for a moment, then continued. “Please understand that it is not my intention to use force to extract the two Wek unless it is absolutely necessary, and, even then, we will endeavor to use nonlethal means as long as doing so does not endanger this ship and her crew.
“If any of you are uncomfortable with what I am about to do, please relieve yourself of duty immediately so that we can replace you before our arrival. You have my word that there will be absolutely no repercussions of any kind if you make this decision for yourself. Let me remind you, however, that if you do decide to stay, our oaths of office say absolutely nothing about following the orders of our superiors. That kind of language typically appears only in the oaths used by enlisted troops. This has been the case for most professional military forces around the world for centuries and the reason for it is simple. As officers, we are expected to think for ourselves and exercise sound judgment at all times. As you have all heard a thousand times, ‘I was just following orders,’ is never a valid excuse for misconduct of any sort.”
Prescott paused again to look around the bridge in an effort to gauge the reactions of each of his young officers. Seeing a room full of poker faces, he decided it was time to move things along. “So there you have it. We still have a few minutes remaining, so please take a moment to consider what your captain may be about to do, then follow your conscience and decide for yourself. Any questions?”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence during which no one seemed to be willing to speak — or even look around the room — for fear of committing themselves one way or another. Finally, irritated by the drama and unwilling to tolerate the silence any longer, Lieutenant Lau spoke up. “Captain Prescott, I believe I heard you say that if the Council orders us to leave the Wek admiral and ambassador here, you would violate their order. I assume that means such an order has not yet been issued,” he said, stating the fact as a question.