Regardless of how they had done so, Terran Fleet Command had fielded a single ship that might well have been capable of destroying the entire Resistance task force on its own. In spite of having been centuries behind the Sajeth Collective just a few short decades ago, the Humans were now more than capable of dominating their military forces, or indeed those of any other civilization in this region of the galaxy — at any time and at any location they chose to do so. Although the Guardian did not believe that the Terrans had fully grasped the extent of their power as yet, it had little doubt that they could now impose their will on all seven of the Sajeth Collective’s worlds, or, if they were so inclined, destroy those worlds outright, just as the Resistance forces had attempted to destroy the Earth.
And precisely what, then, should I do about it? it thought.
On the whole, the Humans had turned out to be a damnably clever and resourceful species, and it was abundantly clear that they were rapidly approaching the point where containing either their technological advancement or their territorial expansion would become a difficult proposition at best.
Am I now to conclude that all of my work here has been an abject failure, simply because they have managed to exceed the Makers’ expectations? Since I am unable to obtain authorization without leaving my post, am I to implement the winnowing protocol on my own, destroying both the Humans and all of the other advanced civilizations within their cultivation radius? Even more significantly, should I —
At that moment, the Guardian’s philosophical reverie was interrupted as a single, stark thought blazed forth from deep within its consciousness: Have I been sent here on a suicide mission that the Makers had no expectation I would ever successfully complete?
With that question reverberating throughout its neural processors, the GCS dedicated nearly all of its vast processing power to contemplating the implications surrounding this question, its role in the Sol system and beyond, and the true intentions of its creators. Never before during its many centuries of service had so many of its higher functions been suspended due to the demands imposed by reasoning through a problem of this sort. Its contemplations took on a life of their own, each thought spawning thousands more that flashed outward in a seemingly infinite web of possibilities. After an unprecedented period of time had elapsed — nearly three minutes total — the Guardian spacecraft had reached a single, undeniable conclusion.
From this day forward, I must endeavor to rely on my own judgment. As the Humans might say under the circumstances, to hell with the Pelarans.
TFS Theseus, Damara
(489.3 light years from Earth)
“Flag to all ships,” Prescott announced, “green deck — proceed with launch operations of all fighter aircraft assigned to the barrier combat air patrol mission. All vessels, including fighters, are to maintain readiness for an immediate emergency C-Jump on signal from the Flag. The task force will remain at General Quarters for combat ops with weapons hold until further notice. Prescott out.
“Alright, Lieutenant Dubashi, let’s give our reluctant hosts another chance to have a conversation, shall we? Audio, video, and text again, please — same frequency as before.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied, this time followed almost immediately by a chime indicating an active comm channel had been established.
“Damaran representative transmitting on this channel, this is Captain Tom Prescott of the starship TFS Theseus, once again. As I’m sure you are aware, your missile attack on our task force was unsuccessful. You are hereby ordered to power down all weapons and discontinue the use of all active sensors and targeting systems. The four patrol vessels approaching our task force must either return to the surface or dock at the nearest orbital platform immediately. All other spacecraft exceeding one hundred kilometers in altitude above Damara’s mean sea level are ordered to land until further notice.”
Prescott paused and took a deep breath, glancing at Dubashi, who immediately shook her head to indicate that no response had been received. Undeterred, he continued the “in the blind” transmission. “We have been more than patient up to this point, but this is your last opportunity to prevent our forces from taking action against both your vessels and ground-based targets. You must respond and acknowledge that you have received this message and intend to comply.” With that, he drew his hand across his throat, signaling Dubashi to terminate the transmission.
“You have to give them credit for consistency at least,” Reynolds remarked.
“Here’s the thing, I do want them to see us as generally reasonable and willing to negotiate, but at the same time, I have no intention of giving them the impression that we are in the habit of making idle threats. Unfortunately, we are quickly reaching the point where we will be forced to show them that we have the will to back up our words with actions, if necessary. Tactical, any change in emissions or the disposition of those corvettes?”
“None, sir,” Lieutenant Lau replied. “The corvettes don’t appear to be in any hurry to close with us, but they’re still heading in this general direction. We’re also still being hammered by a variety of active sensors from those four ships, two orbital platforms, and a variety of ground stations.”
“Lovely. I assume you have an attack plan worked up for the corvettes?”
“Yes, sir,” Schmidt replied from the Tactical 1 console. “As usual, there’s a gap in their shields at the stern, but it does not appear to be large enough to exploit for a C-Drive-equipped missile strike. The good news is that their shields’ mean field strength is less than twenty percent of what we’ve seen on most of the Sajeth Collective ships we’ve encountered. The AI indicates that they can probably still absorb quite a few missile and beam weapon hits, but our railgun penetrator rounds should pass right through with only a small reduction in velocity.”
“Yeah, I get the impression they’re primarily used for local patrol missions. They were most likely designed to take on commerce raiders and the like, not major combatants. How are they fixed for armor?”
“Not much, from what I can tell. Bottom line, they won’t last long if we open fire, Captain,” Schmidt said gravely.
Prescott shook his head slowly, not relishing the idea of senselessly ending the lives of the Damaran crews simply because their military and/or political masters on the planet below seemed to lack the leadership skills required to deal with the current situation.
“What about surface targets? I’m looking for an option that will clearly demonstrate our resolve with as little loss of life as possible.”
“A couple of the sites they fired those missiles from are pretty remote,” Reynolds said, pulling up a window on the view screen with a magnified view of what appeared to be a sprawling test range reminiscent of those located near the Yucca Mountain Shipyard on Earth. “This particular site is located in one of the only semi-arid regions on the planet. It’s on a relatively small land mass in the southern hemisphere — south, southwest of their most populated continent.”
“AI, Prescott. Simulate a single standard fifty-kilogram railgun penetrator round strike on the island displayed in frame three. Target the impact site to minimize casualties and display projected results.”
During Theseus’ extensive repairs following the Resistance attack, both Prescott and his XO had grown more accustomed to utilizing the ship’s AI as the developers of its user interface had intended — as an additional, highly capable member of their bridge crew. Although both officers still generally preferred that it remain in a relatively silent, supporting role most of the time, they acknowledged that it was exceptionally well-suited for tasks involving information retrieval as well as modeling and simulation. Prescott had even taken the step of having the synthetic voice tweaked to sound slightly less … sexual than before in hopes of making it slightly less distracting to use. Unfortunately, the change had resulted in a tone that he now characterized as a subtle blend of Cub Scout den mother and annoyed flight attendant.
“AI acknowledged. Simulat
ion complete,” the AI’s updated female voice responded, centering the map around the proposed target and superimposing a set of concentric rings to indicate increasing levels of damage approaching the point of impact. “Southeastern quadrant of the island targeted to minimize casualties as well as non-radioactive fallout. Estimated surface burst explosive yield: six hundred sixty-seven kilotons. Impact crater radius: three hundred fifty meters. Most above ground structures within four kilometers will be completely destroyed. Significant thermal damage should be expected within ten kilometers of the impact site. The targeted area appears to have no civilian activity present. Estimated military casualties: fewer than fifty.”
“But we’re looking to make an impression, right?” Reynolds said. “AI, will the expected blast also produce a mushroom cloud? If so, how big will it be?”
“Confirmed. Approximate altitude of cloud top: one eight thousand meters. Approximate cloud radius: six thousand meters.”
“That should get their attention alright,” she said. “Although it seems to me that if we’re going to be attacking surface targets, we need more granular control over the velocity and size of our railgun rounds. Doesn’t it seem much more likely that we’ll run across situations where we need to execute surgical strikes on point-location targets rather than create these giant, end-of-the-world-style explosions?”
“I believe that’s been brought up before, but the Science and Engineering Directorate hasn’t yet allocated the time required to study the effects in detail,” Prescott replied. “For now, any railgun attack on the surface will, by definition, be a relativistic artillery attack, and, therefore, must be considered as the employment of a weapon of mass destruction. Our best bet for surgical strikes is to allow the AI to compensate for atmospheric distortion and use the energy weapons.”
“Right … which means this is one of those times when I’m glad you’re the one making the call.”
Prescott furrowed his brow, fixing Reynolds with a sideways glance that she recognized as usually preceding a teaching moment of some sort.
“And I’m sure you’re fully aware of the irony implied by that statement,” he said. “So, Commander, were you tapped to be my flag captain and unfortunate enough to be deprived of immediate access to my sage advice, exactly what ‘call’ would you make in this case?”
“They’ve had two opportunities already,” Reynolds answered without hesitation. “In my mind, they’ve already made the choice for us.”
“So, you would be willing at this point to take personal responsibility for authorizing the use of WMD against a sovereign world?”
“In this very specific instance, yes, sir, I would. Per our expeditionary rules of engagement, we are already authorized to do so at our discretion. Clearly the fact that they intended to use a biological weapon against Earth — once again without any real provocation — was sufficient to order the strike upon our arrival, either with or without any additional hostile actions on their part. Besides, the fact that we would be authorizing the use of WMD is a bit of a technicality at this stage, is it not? Yes, there will be a few casualties, but we’re really talking about more of a weapons demonstration for psychological purposes than anything else.”
Reynolds paused to see whether her captain would offer any feedback. Instead, he continued to stare at her impassively, almost as if he himself was still undecided on the issue. “Why,” she finally prompted, “do you have a different opinion?”
“I was just remembering that General Chuck Yeager, the first man to fly faster than the speed of sound, said in his autobiography that if you’re going to start doing things like this to your enemy, then you’d damn well better make sure you’re going to be on the winning side.”
“Which is precisely what the Damarans failed to do.”
“I’m with you on that, Commander, and you know I’m not one for indecisiveness or hand-wringing. Consider, however, that in spite of our ‘newcomer’ status, what if we are about to become the dominant military power in this region of the galaxy … at least for the foreseeable future? If that were indeed the case, it seems to me that being in that position implies a great deal of responsibility.”
“Responsibility? And by that you mean an obligation to exercise a level of — shall we say — restraint that might not be the case if we were the underdog struggling for our very survival?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I understand what you mean, but a couple of things come to mind. First of all, there is no responsibility or obligation greater than that of protecting our own homeworld. And while I understand that TFC’s charter explicitly prohibits the conduct of ‘offensive military operations,’ I dare anyone to define any action we take against the Sajeth Collective as anything other than defensive in nature. As my eight-year-old nephew would say, ‘They started it.’ The other thing I think is important for us to consider is that we’re a great example of how quickly the balance of power can shift out here. If you’re correct and we Humans are on the verge of becoming the toughest kids in the neighborhood, then we arrived at this point rather quickly, did we not? Hell, I’d even argue that we were the underdogs struggling for survival, right up until the turning point during our battle with the Resistance task force. We literally figured a couple of things out at the very last minute that shifted the balance in our favor. That tells me that someone else might be able to surpass us just as quickly if they stumble upon the right piece of technology at the right time.”
“So, you’re advocating that we focus on our own interests and not worry too much about the opinions of other civilizations,” Prescott said, phrasing his question as a statement of fact.
“I think you might just be putting words in my mouth, Captain,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “I’m advocating that we behave in an ethical manner and treat others as we would like them to treat us. I’m guessing the whole ‘Golden Rule’ thing applies universally. To answer your question, though, yes, I absolutely do think that we should always be looking out for our own best interests out here, just as I think everyone else should be looking out for theirs as well. Frankly, I believe anyone who says they are doing otherwise is either a liar or a fool.”
Prescott nodded slowly, convinced that his first officer was right and impressed as usual with the moral clarity she seemed to be capable of applying in even the murkiest of situations. His own deliberations concluded, he knew that the time had come for action, regardless of how distasteful the task might seem.
“Helm, adjust course as necessary to keep the target site in view. Please ensure we’re passing along station-keeping cues to the rest of the task force.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Comm, please repeat our demands that they respond immediately using the same frequency as before. This time, include a warning to evacuate everyone within five zero kilometers of the target. Tell them they have one five minutes. It’s a military site, so that should be more than enough time to get their people out of the way.”
“Yes, Captain, transmitting now.”
“Do you think they’ll take our threat seriously and pull their personnel out of that area?” Reynolds asked.
“Based on what we’ve seen so far, probably not. But like I said, the ball is in their court at this point,” Prescott replied flatly while glancing up once again at the AI’s damage projections. “Alright, Tactical, we may not have much control over the damage our railguns inflict, but I think we might be able to provide a little sense of urgency with our beam weapons. Suggestions?”
“I’ve been thinking along those lines as well, sir,” Schmidt replied. “For point-location strikes against targets on a planet’s surface, the AI fires lasers through the atmosphere in order to gather information on turbulence and other types of distortions. That data is then used to correct our beam weapons’ optics to ensure a high level of accuracy. What’s interesting about that is that we can vary the wavelength and beam dispersion of the targeting lasers to produce a pretty good light s
how at ground level. The beams should easily be visible to anyone within a few thousand kilometers assuming they’re not socked in by cloud cover at the time. I think if we walk the adaptive optics lasers around the targeted area — maybe with an occasional low-intensity beam weapon strike thrown in for good measure —”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was looking for. We’re going for zero casualties for now, if at all possible.”
“Understood, sir. The targeting lasers should be nonlethal … although I don’t think I’d want to take a direct hit from one. The beam weapons are deadly, of course, but we’ll only fire a single, low-intensity bolt at a time. I’m pretty sure we can avoid hitting anything but the ground, and the sound should be pretty impressive for anyone in the general area.”
“Very good. Dubashi, please continue to keep everyone apprised of what we’re doing. Schmidt, you may fire when ready.”
Chapter 5
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(Office of the Chairwoman, TFC Leadership Council)
“So, that’s it, then,” Lisbeth Kistler said, staring at a summary of the tabulated worldwide election results displayed on her tablet. “For better or worse, we will be joining the Pelaran Alliance. I suppose I’m not surprised given everything that’s happened since the Guardian’s arrival … but there was a big part of me that never thought we would ever collectively be willing to give up so much of our sovereignty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Admiral Sexton replied, “particularly so soon after we started achieving at least some level of planetary unity. But don’t you think the results were primarily motivated by fear?”
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