Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive

by Tori L. Harris

  “I’m afraid it isn’t, since runaway technological development — even by a member of the Alliance — could eventually pose a threat to the other member worlds. Since I have encountered a situation that is beyond my capability to control, I am required to report back to the Alliance with recommendations for how best to address this anomaly.”

  “I see. I hesitate to ask, but I’m guessing that a situation such as this is generally not favorable for the … ‘anomaly’ species.”

  “In the history of the program, this particular situation is so rare that it would be inaccurate to generalize. I will tell you, however, that in at least two other recorded instances, the Pelaran Alliance implemented a course of action referred to as the ‘winnowing protocol.’ Not only was the species under cultivation eliminated, but also several others under their influence within their five-hundred-light-year cultivation radius.”

  Not surprisingly, there were several expressions of dismay and anger from the Human side of the conversation. For several seconds, the Guardian watched to see how they would handle the information he had presented thus far. Although there were few, if any, signs of fear, it was clear enough from the rising tension and volume of the discussion that the Terrans would fight to the last member of their species, if necessary. In the end, they would lose, of course, but, as usual, he could not help but admire their unshakable tenacity and courage.

  “I won’t be contacting the Pelarans,” he finally said in a calm voice, raising both hands placatingly in an effort to calm the growing level of anger on the part of his hosts.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Kistler asked, also raising her hands in an attempt to restore order in the room.

  “I have no intention of participating in the potential genocide of several species. In my opinion, doing so — even under the auspices of my duties to the Alliance — creates a moral dilemma that could also be interpreted as a violation of those same duties. I realize that’s a rationalization, of course, so let me simply say that I am unwilling to participate in acts I believe to be fundamentally unethical and leave it at that.”

  “While I congratulate you for your moral victory,” General Tucker chimed in sardonically, “what’s to prevent the Pelarans from eventually coming to the same conclusion that you did regarding your mission here? Then one day, they show up with their ‘Pelaran death cruisers’ or whatever the hell they have to implement their winnowing protocol with or without your help.”

  “My dear General, I’m afraid that our launching into a discussion on the hazards associated with interstellar diplomacy would be less than productive at this time. I also do not believe that anyone within the sound of my voice is naive enough to think that pursuing a relationship with a civilization vastly more advanced than your own can be accomplished without significant risks.” Here, the Guardian paused, staring back at the Marine general with a look of supreme confidence on his virtual face. “So, to answer your question, Pelaran ships may very well arrive in the Sol system at some point in the future. But you are to consider that there are over ten billion examples of what you might refer to as ‘Earth-like’ planets in this galaxy. As beautiful and unique as your world is in many ways, the fact that it is capable of supporting lifeforms similar to yourselves isn’t at all uncommon, so they may simply choose to ignore you — for now at least. I must also remind you that the Pelarans are generally reluctant to initiate far-flung military expeditions unless they deem them absolutely necessary … thus the cultivation program. Besides, since I am at least partially responsible for putting your civilization in this unfortunate situation, I intend to help you prepare in case something like that ever happens.”

  “Oh, good God,” Tucker swore under his breath. “Let me make sure I’m understanding what you’ve told us so far. You came here on behalf of the Pelaran Alliance to boost our technological progress with the primary objective of enabling us to fight their battles for them. Somewhere along the way, we started making more progress than was allowed, which — according to the Pelarans’ rules — called for some kind of colossal ‘do-over.’”

  “Well, I wouldn’t characterize —”

  “I’m not finished,” the general interrupted. “So, because of their interference and subsequent miscalculations, we’re suddenly deemed a threat to the people who were responsible for our rapid progress in the first place and must therefore be destroyed. And to top it all off, in the midst of all of that, you had some kind of electronic epiphany, became a creature of conscience, and determined that the most ethical course of action open to you is to betray the very people who created you. Does that about size it up there, Griffin?”

  “Look, I know how all of this must sound.”

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Tucker shot back, finally drawing looks of disapproval from both the Chairwoman and Admiral Sexton.

  “Okay, fair enough, I’ll grant you that my perspective is significantly different from your own. I’ll also admit that there is some merit in what General Tucker just said, but the truth is that strange, ambiguous, even borderline ridiculous situations just like this one happen all the time when technologically dissimilar civilizations start interacting with one another. I don’t want to sound like I’m delivering a lecture, but now that you Humans are venturing out into your neighborhood of the galaxy for the first time, I suspect that you will quickly discover this for yourselves.”

  “Alright, we obviously aren’t going to get through all of the implications of what you’ve told us here tonight, but you did mention that you intend to help us. Is that why you have requested access to a great deal of data storage?” Kistler asked.

  “That’s right. It is my intention to upload almost all of what I would have provided to you during the first several decades after you joined the Alliance.”

  “Most, but not all?”

  “Correct. To address General Tucker’s assertion that I was planning to betray the Pelaran Alliance, I hope instead to do everything within my power to avoid doing so. I’m certain that the changing situation will dictate what I can and cannot provide as we move forward. Just as an example, for the time being, I do not plan to provide any information regarding the locations of any of the Alliance’s member worlds. I will tell you that, had your technological progress remained more or less on schedule, there would have been little danger of your encountering any of those worlds for a century or more. As things stand now, however, I suspect that every single planet in the Alliance is already well within your reach.”

  “So, just to clarify, you’re not planning to tell us where of any of these worlds are, but you also don’t have any problem with our finding them on our own?”

  “As long as you conduct yourselves in a reasonable, ethical manner, of course not. Ultimately, when you do encounter one of their worlds, it is my hope that you will have achieved something approaching technological parity. As I alluded to earlier, I have reason to believe that you have already surpassed a great many of them.”

  “When we do encounter them, do you believe the offer of membership will still be on the table?”

  “Unless you give them a reason to view you as an existential threat to the Alliance, I still believe that you will eventually become members, yes. You are Children of the Makers, after all. For my part, however, I cannot transmit your acceptance without also reporting your … shall we say ‘unfortunate’ technological progress. So, once again, I believe it to be in your best interest for me to remain silent on the matter.”

  “Very well,” Kistler said, fully aware that many of the TFC military and civilian leaders present on the vidcon were nearing the limit of their patience with the current discussion — herself included. “Captain Oshiro at the Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility will be your liaison with TFC’s Science and Engineering Directorate. I’m confident he will be able to work with you to meet whatever data storage requirements you specify.”

  “Thank you, Chairwoman Kistler. There is a truly staggering amount of data, but rest assured
that I will remain available to assist you. In fact, I hope you will eventually come to see me as an ally, fully independent of the Pelaran Alliance.”

  “Thank you as well. We will be in touch. Kistler out.”

  TFS Theseus

  (3.29x106 km from Damara)

  “That conniving bastard,” Prescott growled. “I’m beginning to get a better appreciation for why the Wek dislike these people so much.”

  “Ten-light-second emergency C-Jump complete, Captain,” Ensign Fisher reported from the Helm console. “C-Jump range 79.4 light years and increasing. Sublight engines are online, we are free to maneuver.”

  “Tactical?”

  “Nine ships transitioned successfully, Captain,” Schmidt reported. “The AI assumed temporary helm control of the entire task force just over five microseconds after your command to C-Jump.”

  “I guess we just proved the value of that little tweak. What’s the status of the four corvettes?”

  “Two of the four now occupy the exact same space we were sitting in before our C-Jump. The other two would have transitioned inside the hull of the Jutland if she hadn’t gotten out of their way.”

  “Any idea how long before they can transition again?”

  “Not yet, no, sir, but their reactors are operating at a high power level, so that’s a pretty good indication that they are preparing to do so. If they do transition again within the next thirty minutes or so, we can safely assume that will represent their minimum time between transitions. After that, the AI will start displaying an estimated ‘TBT’ countdown timer next to each ship on the tactical plot.”

  “Lieutenant Lee, what’s your best guess at this point?”

  “Worst case, zero two minutes … best case, two five minutes,” Jayston Lee replied from the Science and Engineering console. “Sorry, Captain, that’s the best I can do so far.”

  “That’ll do for now,” Prescott replied, rapidly entering a series of commands at his own Command console. “Helm, I just gave the AI an additional level of autonomy in case the Damarans try another … suicide attack. If it detects an imminent transition event and calculates that one of our ships could be targeted, it has the authority to execute an emergency C-Jump for that ship only.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Fisher replied. “The helm is still dialed in with a standard one-zero-light-second emergency C-Jump as well.”

  “Thank you, Ensign. Commander Reynolds, I’ll handle the corvettes. Please take the conn while I do so. I need you to find our missing frigate.”

  “Aye, sir, XO has the conn,” Reynolds said, smoothly transitioning into the role of de facto captain of the task force’s flagship. “Tactical, still no sign of Industrious?”

  “Nothing yet, ma’am,” Lau replied. “We have a direct line of sight from here to where she was supposed to be, but we’re still not receiving any data from her. I’m scanning the area now with active sensors. If she’s in the area, I should find her pretty quickly.”

  “Lieutenant Dubashi, please signal the Jutland and see if we can get a couple of the fighters from their BARCAP sent back there to scout the area. Also, when you get a moment, run a diagnostic series on the local comm beacon and see if that might be the source of the problem.”

  “Yes, Commander. The AI is already working with the beacon. It will take a bit longer for a complete system check, but it seems to be working fine so far.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Reynolds said under her breath as she glanced up at the tactical plot on the starboard side of the view screen. As her mind methodically worked through the disposition of the task force’s ships, all four of the remaining Ingenuity-class frigates engaged their C-Drives, instantly disappearing from the view screen in four, photo-realistic representations of the grayish-white bursts of light associated with transition events.

  “Attack commencing,” Prescott announced without looking up from his touchscreen. His unusually detached tone immediately reminded the first officer of a much younger man engaged in a particularly immersive video game.

  Theseus’ AI immediately opened two additional windows near the left side of the massive bridge view screen. Each window displayed two of the four Damaran corvettes that were now the apparent targets of the frigates TFS Decisive and TFS Indefatigable, respectively. What followed was easily the most one-sided combat action that any Fleet vessels had engaged in to date. Both frigates had transitioned to a position that immediately allowed them to open fire on their assigned targets, and both did so in earnest within seconds of their arrival in the engagement zone.

  Each of the frigates presented their port sides to their assigned targets, allowing them to engage both enemy ships simultaneously with a vicious broadside of energy weapons fire. Commander Reynolds initially tried to divide her attention between the two attacks, but quickly realized that both scenes were virtually identical, and the act of watching both might well result in missing the key elements of both battles. Focusing her attention on the left-hand window displaying TFS Decisive’s targets, she stared intently as the first bolts of energy slammed into the shields of both Damaran ships, sending shimmering waves of light radiating away from the points of impact like raindrops on the surface of a pond. For a moment, she wondered if additional firepower might be required to destroy the enemy corvettes, but as the frigate’s fire intensified, it became obvious that a significant percentage of her beam weapons’ energy was penetrating the targets’ shields to slam into their lightly armored hulls. It was at that moment that Decisive’s railgun fire began arriving at both targets, instantly removing any question as to the need for additional firepower.

  Streams of kinetic energy penetrators from five of the Decisive’s fully articulated railgun turrets converged at a single location near each target’s bow, then made their way steadily down the entire length of both hulls. The result, while on one hand terrifying to behold, was oddly reminiscent of unzipping a pair of overstuffed duffel bags. The starboard sides of both small ships were opened to the vacuum of space within a period of less than ten seconds. Trails composed of various gases and debris streamed from the stricken vessels as they continued along their previous courses like a pair of fighters intentionally spewing smoke at an air show exhibition.

  Noticing a pair of closely spaced flashes in her peripheral vision, Reynolds glanced briefly at the window previously displaying the two corvettes targeted by TFS Indefatigable. In their case, the frigate’s captain had chosen to combine his ship’s railgun barrage with a single plasma torpedo each for good measure. Each of the two compressed bolts of energetic plasma had penetrated deep within its target’s already exposed hull near the stern, resulting in an instantaneous breach of its antimatter containment unit. On the view screen, nothing remained of either corvette beyond a few large pieces of debris that flared brightly with reflected light from Damara’s sun as they rotated silently away into space.

  “The four enemy corvettes on our side of the planet have been destroyed,” Prescott reported, still heavily engaged in directing and monitoring the other ships in the task force via his Command console. “Zero niner C-Drive-equipped missiles in flight for each of the two military orbital platforms.”

  Right on cue, the two windows displayed on the port side of the bridge view screen centered on each of the two large orbital facilities. The closest — from which the original four corvettes had apparently launched — was now devoid of ships, while two of the patrol vessels remained moored at the second platform.

  “Missiles transitioning,” Prescott announced, continuing his rather unusual running narrative of the battle in his role as task force commander. “Missile impacts,” he said just a few seconds later. As if to underscore this fact, both orbital platforms bloomed forth in a flurry of brilliant white antimatter-induced explosions on the view screen.

  “Was that the last of the targets you intend to engage for now?” Reynolds asked.

  “For the time being, yes. In fact, the corvettes and two orbital plat
forms were the only space-based targets I would classify as militarily significant. So, unless we want to start hitting military installations planet-side, or some other ships arrive in the area, all enemy targets have now been destroyed. I sincerely hope the Damarans will realize that fact as well and avoid forcing our hand again.”

  “I dunno, sir,” she sighed, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “Their decision-making seems to be driven by … honestly, I have no idea what’s driving them, but it sure as hell isn’t anything we would recognize as logic.”

  “Oh, I think we recognize their prime motivation easily enough, Commander. They’re afraid … and on such a primal level that what you just referred to as ‘logic’ plays little if any role in how they react in situations like this. So far, their behavior seems pretty consistent with what the Wek told us to expect. So, at the risk of sounding like I’m grossly oversimplifying their behavior and xeno-stereotyping based on similarities to other mammals we’re familiar with on Earth, it seems to me that they’re reacting an awful lot like cornered prey animals.”

  “Humph. For better or worse, stereotypes are often based on a kernel of truth, and I’d have to agree that that’s exactly how they’re acting.”

  “Commander Reynolds,” Dubashi reported, “the AI has completed its diagnostic series on the local comm beacon. It appears to be functioning within normal limits.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” she replied quietly, then drew in a deep breath before turning back to her captain. “I assume you noticed that there were only two corvettes at the second platform when it was destroyed,” she said, working hard to avoid the need to verbalize the most obvious conclusion for what had happened to the missing frigate.

  “I think I’ve found her, Commander … Industrious, that is,” Lieutenant Lau interrupted in a solemn tone from the Tactical 2 console.

  On the bridge view screen, the two windows that had formerly displayed the task force’s active targets were replaced by a single, larger image. Theseus’ AI had quickly processed and enhanced the incoming data from a wide array of sensors in order to present its Human crew with a meaningful visual representation of the distant object. In spite of a level of computing sophistication that approached a rudimentary level of consciousness, the ship’s AI did not comprehend that the scene it was displaying was the stuff of nightmares.