“I’m very happy to hear it, Lieutenant,” Prescott replied as he once again stood to respond to the incoming call. “On-screen please.”
Seconds later, a creature appeared on the screen who, while obviously a Damaran, had an appearance quite unlike that of Commander Miah — the only other member of the species that any of the bridge crew had ever seen before this moment. Although similar in size and shape, his coloring, as well as the markings that covered his exposed body and facial hair, were strikingly different. The unavoidable thought that immediately entered Prescott’s mind was the creature’s similarity to the South African Gemsbok antelope.
“Greetings, Captain Prescott,” he said, with a tone that seemed far too casual for the current, rather dire situation. “Let me say from the outset that I apologize for our rather terse initial response. I am Zorian Ved, Defense Minister and Administrator of the Damaran Headquarters of the Sajeth Collective Fleet. I am authorized to negotiate with you on behalf of our planetary government, and I appreciate your patience under the circumstances. Our reaction to your arrival was due in part to some, shall we say … unfortunate problems with our planetary defense systems.”
“I see,” Prescott began tentatively, not entirely sure how to respond to such an absurd opening statement. “I sincerely wish we were meeting under more favorable circumstances, Minister Ved. As I indicated in my earlier message, my task force is here in response to your world’s unprovoked attack on our forces located in the Sol system and the attempted genocide of our species. Accordingly, I am obligated to inform you that a state of war currently exists between Terra and our allies and all members of the Sajeth Collective who played a role in the attack on Earth. For the time being, my ships will be enforcing a temporary naval blockade on your planet. All flights to and from Damara are hereby suspended until such time that representatives from our two worlds can work out a mutually acceptable diplomatic resolution to the current crisis.
“Since — intentional or otherwise — your forces have already chosen to attack our task force, I must warn you that we will respond immediately and with overwhelming force to any further aggressive actions from the surface of Damara or from hostile spacecraft. Again, sir, I would much prefer that circumstances were different, but I must now ask if you fully understand the message I have delivered on behalf of my homeworld and whether you intend to act in compliance with our demands.”
Ved stared back at Prescott for a long moment, looking as if he were attempting to size up the imposing Terran captain he faced and, by extension, the true nature of the current threat. “A state of war, you say? Dear me, Captain Prescott … surely, then, we must take it upon ourselves to seek an equitable, peaceful solution. So please allow me to speak plainly,” he said, spreading his arms wide with both hands upturned in a subservient gesture. “I obviously find myself in a bit of an indefensible position at the moment … both literally and figuratively, it would seem.” Here, the minister made an attempt at a disarming smile, which, if anything, seemed to further irritate the otherwise impassive Human on his display screen. “We understand that you hold us responsible for the attempted attack on Terra. If our roles were reversed, I would probably do the same. But let me assure you that those activities were in no way supported by the government of Damara or its peace-loving citizens. The so-called Pelaran Resistance forces acted wholly on their own. The member worlds of the Sajeth Collective must not be held responsible for their illegal and reprehensible acts against your world.”
“Again, sir, we appreciate your agreeing to speak with us, but I am not authorized to discuss issues of diplomacy or negotiate in any way with your government or the Sajeth Collective’s Governing Council. Once again, our mission is to prevent further acts of aggression against the Sol system by enforcing a blockade of Damara. In the coming days — assuming you cooperate and there are no further aggressive acts or attempts to violate our blockade, of course — I will be in a position to offer direct communications between representatives from your world and ours. Once that happens, I have every confidence that they will be able to craft a workable resolution to the situation.”
While he had been speaking, Prescott perceived a subtle shift in the Damaran minister’s demeanor and immediately wondered if he had witnessed one of the mercurial shifts from “flight to fight” to which Admiral Naftur had referred.
“If you will permit me, Captain, you are a very long way from home, and a force of only ten ships certainly doesn’t strike me as sufficient to enforce an effective blockade against an entire planet. Are you expecting more ships?”
Prescott narrowed his eyes and offered the cunning smile of a gambler relishing the moment before laying down a royal flush. “Clearly, Minister, I am not at liberty to discuss the strength and disposition of our forces in the area. I will tell you, however, that I have a high level of confidence that our task force is more than adequate for the task. I hope I didn’t give you the mistaken impression that my detachment of warships represents the only Human presence in Sajeth Collective space. It seems to us that Damara and Lesheera played the most significant role in the attack on Earth, so, naturally, that requires us to take additional precautions when negotiating with your people. Rest assured that we are fully capable of pursuing our interests … wherever they may lie.”
“So, I take it your forces are now blockading Lesheera as well. I suppose it’s a foregone conclusion that you are also responsible for the long-range communications problems we have been experiencing.”
“Again, sir, I’m sure you can appreciate that I cannot offer any comments regarding ongoing military operations. I can only tell you that we are trying to be as even-handed as possible in dealing with the Sajeth Collective. We haven’t singled out Damara or Lesheera for any sort of punitive action.”
Prescott paused, considering how much more information, or indeed misinformation, he should share. Based on the information he had in hand at the moment, he had reason to believe that little if any communications were taking place between the six Sajeth Collective worlds categorized by TFC as “enemy belligerents.” Just twelve hours prior to his arrival, Wek special forces units had taken control of every major comm center providing long-haul interconnectivity via their deep space communications network. This bit of intelligence allowed room for the occasional bluff when negotiating with the Damarans. Prescott was also keenly aware that any assertion of Humanity’s nascent fleet being capable of enforcing its will across such a vast region of space might be a bit of a stretch, even if they faced only minimal opposition.
An identical task force to his own based around the carrier Philippine Sea had indeed been sent to Lesheera, and Admiral Patterson himself was due to arrive at Graca in the coming days with a rapid reaction task force composed of four cruisers, two destroyers, and four frigates. In addition, a single frigate had been sent to keep an eye on each of the other four planets making up the Collective. Otherwise, TFC had precious few ships to spare for an extended deployment in Sajeth Collective space. Eleven ships — including the remaining carrier Ushant — had been assigned to the newly designated “home fleet,” tasked with the difficult job of protecting the Sol system and Earth itself in the event of another attack. That left only a handful of frigates for so-called “special duties,” which currently included everything from comm beacon deployments to completing a series of basic exploration missions intended to lay the groundwork for the first extra-terrestrial Human colonies.
Even with TFC’s forces stretched as thinly as they were, Prescott was still confident that they held the advantage overall. Unlike their adversaries, Fleet now enjoyed instantaneous, secure communications throughout the entire theater of operations. Its C-Drive-equipped warships were capable of concentrating at a time and place of their choosing, then striking at any location within the Sajeth Collective within a matter of hours — an achievement that would have made both Sun Tzu and Carl von Clausewitz proud. Finally, if and when the battle was joined, Fleet’s ships were equ
ivalent or better in terms of firepower and vastly superior when it came to shielding to anything in the Collective’s inventory (most of which was controlled by TFC’s Wek allies in any event). The key, Prescott knew, was to negotiate some sort of favorable diplomatic outcome — whatever that might be — as quickly as possible since a protracted war might well favor the Collective with its overwhelming population advantage.
That means they have to know with absolute certainty that we own them, Prescott thought, and that their only hope for survival is cooperation.
“One thing I hope we have in common, sir,” he continued with renewed confidence, “is that we Humans don’t like threats. We don’t like receiving them, and we also don’t like being placed in a position where we feel obliged to deliver them. You chose to preemptively open fire on our forces when we arrived. I sincerely hope that the results of that attack and our responses since then have been sufficient to prevent the need for further confrontation.”
The Damaran simply stared back at him — giving the impression that he was either stalling for time or simply at a loss for words at this point.
“Look, Minister Ved,” Prescott continued, switching tactics slightly in the hope of rapidly concluding this preliminary conversation and getting on with the task of deploying his forces, “I’ll be honest with you: This is the best deal you are going to get for the time being. I’m sure you are well-aware of the situation on Graca, are you not?”
“We are well-aware that the usurper Rugali Naftur has managed to overthrow the lawfully elected government and establish a backwards, totalitarian monarchy, if that is the disgraceful situation to which you refer.”
“Again, I am no diplomat and certainly no expert on the Wek political system, but it is my understanding that Crown Prince Naftur’s accession to the throne actually was the result of worldwide elections — which were handled in accordance with their laws and traditions. You may also be aware that Terra has already signed a preliminary memorandum of cooperation with his government that we have every hope will ultimately lead to a full alliance at some point in the near future.”
“Well, Captain, I hope for your sake that they will honor their alliance with your people better than they did with ours.”
“My point, Minister, is that a blockade of your planet will be enforced — by either Human or Wek military forces. And from what I know of the Wek people thus far, I think it’s safe to say that you may find them less flexible and more difficult to work with than we Humans. In fact, there are a significant number of highly placed representatives within their government who were in favor of attacking and then invading both Damara and Lesheera. You primarily have Prince Naftur to thank for convincing them to take a more moderate stance.”
“I trust you will forgive me if I disagree that what you are proposing is ‘moderate’ in any sense of the word. The presence of your warships in this system is a flagrant violation of all standards of —”
“We have no intention of harming a single Damaran citizen if you will cooperate with our forces and negotiate in good faith with our representatives,” Prescott interrupted. “Now, once again, can I have your assurance that you understand and will comply with our demands?”
“I, uh …” Ved began, pausing once again and seemingly distracted by something happening off-screen. “Of course, we will comply, Captain Prescott. It appears we have little choice in the matter, does it not? How soon can we expect —”
“Something’s wrong,” Reynolds said in a low, urgent tone from her command chair.
“Stand by, Minister. Dubashi,” Prescott said, immediately signaling the lieutenant to once again terminate their side of the vidcon. “What is it, Commander?” he asked after receiving a quick nod from the Comm/Nav console.
“We just lost our data feed from Industrious,” Reynolds said.
“No warning, no sign of any problems? We just lost the feed?”
“Yes, sir. It looked like one of the corvettes moored at the orbital platform might have released and edged away as if it were preparing to get underway, but they didn’t power weapons or make any other threatening moves.”
“Hmm … maybe just a comm glitch then. The whole point of her being over there was to maintain coverage of the far side of Damara. At the moment, we only have one comm beacon nearby, so if it stops transmitting data, we’re temporarily back to line-of-sight comm. Did Industrious drop below the horizon?”
“I believe she did, sir. It’s possible they were maneuvering for a better view of the platform, but the comm beacon is still on the network and reporting all systems in the green. Whatever the problem is, we don’t have a visual or a comm signal from the frigate, so we’re currently blind to the back side of the planet.”
“Understood. Dubashi, keep trying to raise them and let me know immediately once we reacquire their signal.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Tactical, any change in the four corvettes closest to us?”
Without prompting, Lieutenant Lau had placed zoomed-in views of all four of the patrol vessels on the port side of the bridge view screen while also intensifying Theseus’ sensor scans of the lead vessel.
“No, sir, nothing so far. All four of the ships are still heading in our general direction, but their weapons remain unpowered. They also haven’t accelerated at all since the earlier attack, so they don’t appear to have any intention of closing with us anytime soon.”
Prescott stared at the four Damaran vessels for a moment longer, wondering what, if anything he might be missing. Just as he was about to check in with Captain Donovan aboard TFS Jutland regarding the availability of fighters to send over to Industrious, his attention was once again drawn to the view screen. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the four vessels began to rotate about their horizontal and longitudinal axes — as if all four were correcting their courses in preparation for —
“Captain, they’re transitioning!” Lau yelled.
“All vessels JUMP!” Prescott roared in response.
Chapter 6
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(0300 UTC - Office of the Chairwoman, TFC Leadership Council)
As had become the norm for all official communications with the Terrans, the Guardian portrayed itself as a young, athletic-looking Human male dressed in a rather conservative but still stylish gray business suit. Rather than standing behind a podium at the front of an empty conference room, he now appeared as if he were sitting casually at one end of the same room’s table. The impression he was apparently trying to convey was decidedly more relaxed than before. It was almost as if he intended the meeting to be more intimate — like a group of collegial insiders coming together to address a business challenge or discuss the latest strategy designed to advance their common interests.
“Good evening,” he began in a pleasant tone. “I realize that I have kept most of you in the office later than usual this evening, but the events of the past twenty-four hours — some which you are still unaware of — warrant our immediate attention.”
“Good evening to you as well,” Kistler replied. “I believe you know everyone here, so I will dispense with the formal introductions. I also have no idea what the appropriate protocol is for situations such as this, but let me be the first to say that we are pleased by the decision our people have made to join the Pelaran Alliance. We look forward to working with you to formalize our new relationship in the coming days.”
“Ah, yes, thank you, Madame Chairwoman … I appreciate that you are always direct and to the point. Obviously, I was also pleased by the outcome of Terra’s election. And although I will admit that the process took quite a bit longer than I was originally expecting, I always believed that you would make the right decision in the end. Now, please allow me to return the same courtesy and get straight to the reason I requested an audience with you this evening.”
“Thank you … Griffin,” she replied with an almost imperceptible smile at the scowling image of Admiral Patterson
in one corner of her view screen. “By all means, please continue.”
“Some of this may sound a bit dramatic, so please bear with me for just a few moments,” he said, looking briefly to the side as if still debating how best to deliver a potentially unpleasant message. “In summary, per the guidelines that govern the regional partnership — or, as a few of you seem to prefer, ‘cultivation’ — program, my mission here in the Sol system has failed. For a variety of different reasons, none of which we need to discuss here today, Humanity’s technological progress has accelerated to a pace that is well in excess of what the Pelaran Alliance considers to be ‘safe.’”
“And by that, you mean ‘safe’ for the Pelaran Alliance, not for us,” Sexton said.
“One could argue that they are in many ways one and the same, Admiral, but yes, the directives to which I refer are intended primarily to protect the existing members of the Pelaran Alliance, and not, strictly speaking, prospective members. Over the years, I have used a variety of different methods to maintain your rate of technological growth within acceptable limits, but based on recent observations, I am forced to conclude that my efforts have been unsuccessful.”
“So, what does that mean, exactly?” Kistler asked with a furrowed brow. “Are you saying that we have unknowingly crossed some sort of technological line, and as a result we’re now suddenly considered ‘species non-grata’ or something?”
“That’s an interesting … and surprisingly accurate way to put it,” the Guardian said with a broad smile, “but, yes, that’s it in a nutshell.”
“Okay,” she replied, drawing out the word as she glanced at U.S. Representative Samuel Christenson to her immediate left, “but isn’t that something of a moot point at this juncture since we have now made our decision to join the Alliance?”
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