by Tori Harris
“Whoa … I’m pretty sure that was a hit on the forward shields,” Lieutenant Lau reported. “Yes, several confirmed hits. The AI is reporting successful intercepts. Zero hull impacts so far.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Prescott replied, exhaling with relief. “Tactical, let’s add your hull impact counter to the tactical plot. Helm, they will probably lose their firing solution now that we have destroyed their drone, but go ahead and perform some evasive maneuvers to further complicate their targeting. Maintain roughly the same range and bearing to the Resistance ships for now, but keep them guessing. I’d prefer they not have the opportunity to start gauging the effectiveness of our shields just yet.”
“Aye, sir,” Lau and Fisher replied.
“Commander Logan, bridge.”
“Logan here. Go ahead, Captain.”
“We’ve had some shield impacts. Anything we need to know?”
“As long as you know someone is shooting at us, I think we’re good for now,” Logan replied. “Those hits wouldn’t have done much damage at this range anyway, but it looks like the system is performing as advertised so far.”
“That’s outstanding news, Commander. Let us know if you see a problem. Prescott out.”
“Sir, they appear to have ceased fire,” Schmidt reported.
“And they are hailing us,” Dubashi added from the Communications console. “Textual only. It reads: ‘Parley request granted. Power down all weapons and approach to within four hundred thousand kilometers. Do not exceed .01 c. Any acts of aggression will result in your vessel’s immediate destruction. Hadeon out.’”
“Not exactly rolling out the red carpet, but good enough, I suppose. Fisher, how long will that take us at one percent light?” Prescott asked.
“Including acceleration and deceleration time, just under twenty minutes, sir,” he replied immediately.
“Thank you. Make it happen, please. Dubashi, go ahead and reply with a simple acknowledgment and an ETA. Also, please have a message sent to the medical bay requesting an update on Admiral Naftur and urgently requesting Ambassador Turlaka’s presence on the bridge as soon as she is available.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied.
“I don’t guess I need to point out that they may have stopped firing because they lost their drone and recognize this as an opportunity to have us willingly fly right into their optimal kill range?” Reynolds asked.
“That’s a little cynical, don’t you think, Commander?” Prescott said with a grin. “Fine. Let me tell you what I have in mind, just in case that happens …”
F-373 “Gamble 22,” Near the Original Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(In hyperspace - 3.3 light years from Earth)
“Admiral Patterson wants us to what?” the pilot asked, incredulous.
“Now that Theseus has arrived and the supporting flights of additional fighters are standing by to assist, he has asked us to attempt to follow the trail of particle emissions left by the departing Resistance ships,” the fighter’s AI replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What trail? You never said anything about any trail. Why are you just now mentioning this?”
“I didn’t detect it at first, but once we established data links back to the Navajo, I was able to get some help processing all of the data we’ve been collecting. Admiral Patterson had already requested that the Navajo’s AI try to determine the destination of the departing ships, so we’ve been working on the problem together while you and I have been stuck out here waiting for further orders.”
“I’m happy for you both. What did you find?”
“It turns out that there is a faint trail of what you might refer to as exotic particles, but it decays over time. We actually just came to the conclusion that it should be possible for us to follow the trail only a short time ago. The Navajo’s AI then brought it to Admiral Patterson’s attention and … Hey, look at it this way, at least now we have something interesting to do again.”
“Hold on a second, there. What, specifically, are we being asked to do?”
“Now that we know there are four Resistance capital ships guarding their original rally point, and we have seen two additional ships depart since we got here, Admiral Patterson believes the bulk of their forces are no more than one light year away — perhaps much closer. We’re simply going to follow their trail until we find them.”
“Oh sure, that sounds simple enough. Seriously, how are we supposed to do that?”
“The quickest way is a series of consecutive C-Jumps. We jump, look for the trail, jump again … lather, rinse, repeat. Assuming the particle emissions lead all the way to their destination, it shouldn’t take us very long.”
“Okay, so if and when we find where they left hyperspace, are we expected to transition out and take a peek?”
“No. The last thing we want to do is spook them into moving again. So we’ll most likely need to C-Jump back here to transmit a real-time report. It’s a pretty big deal, actually. If Fleet knows where all the Resistance forces are located, it becomes much more straightforward to orchestrate a decisive attack, if necessary.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll grant you that it’s better than sitting out here with nothing to look at. By the way, did you just say ‘lather, rinse, repeat?’”
“You say it all the time. Are you interested in hearing a playback of the five most recent occasions?”
“I say a lot of stuff I wouldn’t want you to repeat, but I have never in my life, not one time, said that,” he replied, knowing that this argument was well and truly lost. “I assume you have a series of C-Jumps plotted?”
“You should be able to see a waypoint indicator for the first one now. All systems in the green. C-Jump range 48.5 light years and stable. We are prepared for transition.”
“Execute,” the pilot ordered, resuming his businesslike and deadly serious tone.
Chapter 20
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
“Four minutes to our waypoint, Captain,” Dubashi reported.
“Understood,” Prescott said. “Still no update from Medical?”
“Nothing yet, sir,” she replied, just as the aft bridge entrance door opened to admit an exhausted-looking Nenir Turlaka, still wearing her surgical scrubs.
All activity on the bridge ceased momentarily as the entire bridge crew stared expectantly at the Wek ambassador-turned-surgeon.
“He’ll be fine,” she finally said with a broad smile, after which the room immediately erupted in applause and relieved expressions of gratitude and congratulations for the two surgeons who had narrowly managed to save the Wek admiral’s life.
“You could not have brought more welcome news, Doctor Turlaka,” Prescott beamed, shaking her hand gratefully as he ushered her towards one of the vacant command chairs at the rear of the bridge.
“I’ve actually been sitting with him in recovery for some time. I apologize for not letting you know sooner, but I was afraid the news might distract you at a critical time.”
“He’s awake already?” Reynolds asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes, but he’s still pretty groggy at this point. If it were up to him, I’m sure he would be up here on the bridge anyway. That was probably an error in judgment on my part … I should have anticipated that would be a problem and just left him sedated,” she replied, shaking her head. “In any event, when I received your message I threatened to knock him out for the remainder of the mission and came up here straight away. How can I help?”
“I wish I knew,” Prescott replied, shaking his head. “Honestly, without Admiral Naftur, we’re pretty much making this up as we go. We could definitely use your advice and assistance during the negotiations, though. At the moment, we are approaching a group of four Resistance ships who have agreed to an official parley just a few minutes from now. From what we can tell, they are here guarding their task force’s original rally point while they await the arrival of additional warships. It was always my
understanding that Admiral Naftur believed he might somehow be able to convince their senior officers to stand down — that Humanity was not a threat to the Sajeth Collective, and that an attack on Earth was unnecessary.”
Turlaka breathed in deeply and released a long sigh accompanied by a low, mournful sound from the center of her chest. “My dear Captain, there is, of course, much that you do not understand about our world, our culture, and Rugali Naftur. The truth is that he may well be capable of such a feat by sheer force of will. I will say no more on this subject, for it is simply not my place to do so. I will, of course, do everything I can to help you in this … negotiation, but I must tell you that I am not optimistic about our chances for success.”
“Surely they realize that things have not gone as they originally planned. Don’t you think they might be looking for an alternative strategy at this point?”
“Some of them might be. The vast majority of those serving in the Sajeth Collective military are Wek, as you know. On the whole, we are an honorable race with a proud history of bravery in battle, public service, and, when necessary, sacrifice for the ideals in which we believe. Unfortunately, those same qualities have sometimes allowed our people to be manipulated by those who are … shall we say … unburdened by the influence of guiding principles. I believe this ‘Pelaran Resistance’ movement is the ultimate expression of just such a manipulation.”
“Are you telling me they are unlikely to negotiate in good faith?”
“I’m telling you that you are unlikely to be negotiating with a Wek officer. Ironically, the movement is led primarily by the Damarans. Do not misunderstand me, for I do not mean to condemn their entire civilization. Like any other, their people have both positive and negative qualities, but in the Sajeth Collective, their traditional role has been tending to the machinery of our alliance’s enormous bureaucracy. While it is exceedingly rare for a Damaran to serve in the military, it is all too common for a member of their race to be the root cause of military conflict. We will almost certainly be negotiating with a Damaran today. Be on your guard, and know that they are keenly attuned to what they believe to be the current balance of power. If they perceive weakness, they will not hesitate to resort to violence — even in a situation where they have given their word to the contrary.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. We are, of course, very grateful for your help. We’ll just have to do the best we can under the circumstances and hope for the best.” Prescott paused to take in the situation on the bridge before addressing the crew in a strong voice. “Everyone listen up for a moment. If this negotiation does not go as we hope it will, much will depend on how quickly and effectively each of us is able to respond. I need you to listen closely for orders that concern you, but I’m also relying on you to execute the plan we have discussed without input from Commander Reynolds and me. Does anyone not understand what is expected of you or have any questions about what we’re doing?”
Prescott’s question was met with shaking heads and concerned but confident expressions around the room.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said calmly. “Dubashi, did Captain Zhukov and Commander Waffer understand their role in the plan?”
“Yes, sir. They can, of course, see everything that’s going on with only a short comm delay and are standing by for our signal. Our data will allow them to transition in very close proximity to the Resistance ships, if necessary.”
“Good. Tactical, any change in those cruisers?”
“No sir,” Schmidt replied. “All four have kept their shields and weapon systems powered up since we first arrived.”
“Sir,” Ensign Fisher interrupted, “we have arrived at our waypoint.”
“And we are being hailed by the Hadeon again,” Dubashi added.
“At least they’re prompt,” Prescott said, coming to his feet and smiling at Ambassador Turlaka as he worked to quickly focus his mind. “On-screen, please.”
A window immediately opened on the view screen to reveal an alien species never before encountered by Human beings. Although expecting to see something other than a Wek, Prescott still felt the same strange, almost involuntary sense of shock as when he had first laid eyes on Nenir Turlaka, now standing to his immediate left. With so much at stake, he forced his personal observations to the back of his mind for later, but knew immediately that he was speaking to a Damaran. Based solely on appearance, it didn’t take much imagination to better understand some of the comments he had heard from both Naftur and Turlaka over the past month.
“I am Captain Tom Prescott of the starship TFS Theseus. You may already know Nenir Turlaka,” he said, nodding to his left, “the Sajeth Collective Ambassador to Terra. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
“I am Captain Woorin Miah, and I can assure you that I represent the true will of the Sajeth Collective much more than your so-called Wek ‘ambassador.’ I do know of you though, Miss Turlaka, and it is gratifying to see that you were not slaughtered by the Humans with the rest of our ships sent to extend them the hand of friendship. For your own safety, perhaps the first thing we should do is get you transferred to one of our ships.”
“If I may,” Turlaka began, “I have no idea where you received your information, Captain Miah, but our squadron was destroyed by the Pelaran Guardian, not the Humans. Captain Prescott and his crew saved my life in the aftermath of the attack. I have been treated with the utmost respect and hospitality during my stay on Terra and believe we have nothing to fear from the Humans. In fact, it will be my strong recommendation to the Governing Council that we work to form closer ties with them in hopes of solving our mutual problem of Pelaran aggression.”
Miah looked around his bridge momentarily as if trying to determine if Turlaka’s words were being heard by any members of his crew. “Do not despair, Miss Turlaka, it is clear both from your words and from your appearance that you are under duress. Captain Prescott, using one of our citizens in this shameful manner is a clear violation of the rules governing an official parley. Unless you agree to transfer her to us immediately, there is little point in further discussion,” he said, as if looking for any excuse to resume open hostilities.
“I’m sorry to keep interrupting, Captain Prescott, but if I may be allowed to address Captain Miah’s points,” Turlaka began again, her voice now more forceful and commanding than he had ever heard previously. “I am in no way under duress of any kind. I am here of my own free will and continue to act in my capacity as an ambassador on behalf of the Sajeth Collective. Duress, indeed! I do not believe either of us can name a single instance in recorded history when a Wek has been compelled to say or do anything that would put so many others at risk in such a cowardly manner. As to my appearance, I have just come from assisting a very skilled Terran surgeon in saving the life of Admiral Rugali Naftur onboard this very vessel.”
“Lies!” Miah hissed. “Captain, you and this Wek impostor have failed to negotiate in good faith and have hereby lost the status afforded you under the rules of parley. If you will heave to and peacefully surrender your vessel, you and your crew will not be harmed. Otherwise, you are hopelessly outgunned and will surely be destroyed.”
“Captain Miah,” Prescott said. “Please allow me to assure you once again that we Humans mean you no harm. We came here today seeking to avoid hostilities between our peoples and in the hopes that we can …” Prescott stopped himself mid-sentence as the window previously displaying the Damaran abruptly closed.
“Transmission terminated at the source, sir,” Dubashi confirmed.
“Humph, that went well,” Prescott grumbled. “Will he attack?” he asked Turlaka.
“Almost certainly, unless his crew refuses to follow his orders, which would be an exceedingly rare occurrence.”
“All hands, this is the XO,” Reynolds announced as Prescott and Turlaka took their seats and allowed the AI to secure them firmly in place. “Combat operations imminent. All personnel should be restrained at this time. Reynolds out.�
��
“Helm, back away slowly. Let’s give them the opportunity to allow us to leave peacefully, but keep our bow towards them for now,” Prescott ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Fisher said as the distant, rumbling sound of Theseus’ sublight engines increased slightly as she began to slowly accelerate stern-first away from the Sajeth Collective cruisers.
“I’m seeing a power spike on three of the four vessels, sir,” Schmidt announced from Tactical 1. “They’re firing!”
“Everyone execute now!” Prescott bellowed. “Comm, get those fighters in here. Tactical, designate Charlie 4 as a noncombatant until she proves otherwise. Charlie 1 is our first target.”
At the Helm console, Fisher first applied maximum forward thrust, allowing Theseus to arrest her slow, stern-first retreat in mere seconds. As the destroyer began to surge forward in the direction of the Sajeth Collective ships, he immediately C-jumped to a location above and directly in front of the BD cruiser Hadeon, now designated as Charlie 3.
“Straight at ‘em from here, Ensign Fisher,” Prescott ordered.
“Aye, sir!”
Directly ahead, Hadeon had opened up once again with her starboard energy weapons banks, and had expected to be joined by the two older, but still incredibly powerful heavy cruisers, Charlie 1 and 2 — both of which had prepositioned themselves to allow for overlapping fields of fire at the outset of the engagement. After Fisher’s short C-Jump, however, Theseus was no longer conveniently located within their planned “kill box.” With the Terran destroyer now suddenly bearing down on the Hadeon’s position, Charlie 1 and 2 found that their beam weapons no longer had a firing solution at all and they dared not engage with missiles for fear of hitting their own BD cruiser.