"OK, folks our first target is GJ 3622, an M6 dot 5 variable, 14.8 light years away. You all have the summary. It seems to have a large, close-in companion."
He paused to take a sip of coffee, then continued his discussion of how he wanted to enter each star system, and what his priorities would be. At the end, there weren't many questions, which didn't surprise Davis that much. The officers had all the briefing materials in advance, including Len's thoughts on how to perform the actual investigation of each system. But it was useful to him for them to sit and look it all over together. He could see questions in their eyes much more easily than in any kind of electronic message.
Even in an age of FTL travel, space mining, and friendly and hostile alien species, leadership was still a personal skill. In a ship carrying over a hundred souls, he felt it essential to know the crew and that they know him. He would then be better able to see what they needed to be and feel confident in their work. He was their commander, not their friend, but he wanted them to know he was with them and would give them what support he could to help them get the job done.
"OK it is now 0950. Commander Rodriguez, are all visitors off and all crew aboard?"
"Yes, Captain. All present. The ship is in all aspects ready to proceed." Linda Rodriguez, Sigma's executive officer, answered in the expected manner.
"Good. Nav, let's get underway at 1030."
"Yes sir, 1030 it is."
After the briefing with the officers, Len worked his way around the ship. He stopped at the Intel section, partly to check on David Powell, partly to keep an eye on Lieutenant Todd Boyd, one of the officers he had some concerns about.
"Powell, got a minute?" David was surprised to see the Captain's head leaning inside his small work area. He stood, managing not to trip over his chair in the process.
"Yes, of course, Captain."
Since David happened to be alone, Len stepped in and closed the door. Davis motioned for David to sit back down and he took a seat, backward, in the next chair over.
"So how is it going? How are you adjusting to the ship?"
There was genuine concern clear in his voice and posture.
"Just fine, Captain. Sally and Abe are excellent to work with. We're working on improving our process and trying to understand how to get actionable data to you more quickly. That part may take a while."
Len nodded his understanding, then looked at David more directly.
"How is Lieutenant Boyd? He was a year behind you at the University, was he not?"
David frowned, thinking about how to answer. Since it was a private conversation, he thought he might as well show the man some respect and be direct.
"If you're asking if he's been a complete shit about me not finishing and now working for him, well, yes he has. But I expected no less."
Davis nodded, shrugged. "Some history there?"
David nodded. "Yeah, there was an overnight exercise I led with some freshman cadets, including Boyd. He couldn't light a fire to save his soul. I did it by the manual right in front of him in about fifteen seconds."
Davis smiled. "Ouch."
"Yeah, but, sir, the weird part is, only he saw that. It's not like I stood up and pointed out what a dork he was."
Davis shook his head, wondering how egos and brains seem so often to miscommunicate.
"If it gets to the level of interfering with the work, I need to know. Short of that, I will leave it to you to deal with him. I can give you a bit of leeway, Mr. Powell, but don't put me in a position where I have to side with that jerk."
David was surprised the Captain would say that about an officer. Davis continued as if he had heard what David was thinking.
"I couldn't say that to just anyone, David. For my money, you're an officer in every way but rank. I am going to get Boyd more involved in what he really wants - weapons and comms. You'll have more freedom of action down here than usual. I know you're up to it."
"Thank you, sir. We won't let you down."
"I’m sure you won’t."
David wondered just what 'leeway' meant, and whether Boyd was going to be as big a problem as he thought. On the other hand, if Boyd wants to be elsewhere, that was fine with him.
Fleet HQ Grounds
Ft. Eustis, VA
Tuesday, March 8, 2078, 1045 EST
Lieutenant Ann Cooper took a long walk around the Headquarters Campus. Last week's snow and wintry cold had broken, and today there was sunshine, not much wind, and a little warmth. Early flowers were beginning to show themselves in the gardens around the buildings and along the walkways. Fort Eustis was well forested in some areas, and as she looked around she thought she could see the first hints of green in the groves. She had been doing a lot of reading about the Second World War since the Inor attack, and she found the parallels with their current situation interesting. She wondered what lessons she might learn from that conflict that would help them win this one. After all, this was the first genuinely existential threat the world had faced since that time. Only now, defeat might well mean death for all, not subjugation for some.
She let her mind wander over the issues they were working. The SLIP team, which Roger Cox was leading, was developing hardware for scanning what they thought were the practical SLIP channels. The lack of radiation associated with the enemy ships intrigued her. If they weren't using nuclear power, what were they using? Fuel cells? Something really dangerous like a hypergolic? Liberty's sensor data did not have fine enough resolution to give them a spectrum of what had exploded, just that it had generated a lot of heat.
So much space to search, she thought. This could take years. Or, as they were likely to say to each other, the enemy could be here tomorrow. She had been in the room as a resource when Fiona Collins and Ron Harris had browbeaten the CINC and Chief of Operations to establish a defensive position close to Earth. The enemy had appeared just a few thousand kilometers from Inor. Very close, really, and if they did that here, there would be no time to pull a ship back from Mars or the asteroid belt or where the hell ever else they might be. They still kept a picket line just outside Uranus' orbit, just in case. There were six ships, with three in the plane of the planets and three in orbits perpendicular to the plane. It was a dreary assignment that drones should be doing.
Drones! She thought suddenly, if we built an IR surveillance drone, gave it a SLIP receiver, and a SLIP scanner... She looked up to realize she had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and other people were walking around her, giving her amused or puzzled looks, wondering what was wrong. Realizing where she was, she turned on her heel and headed back into the FleetIntel offices.
"Roger! I need you!" she yelled across the office.
"Yes, ma'am," Roger smiled, amused, at Scott Morgan with whom he had been discussing the SLIP problem.
Roger followed Ann into a small workroom off the main area.
"What's up, Ann?"
Her nose and cheeks were red from being outside, her hands a little white.
"I have an idea - how much does a SLIP transmitter weigh?"
Roger sat across from her. "Not sure, a hundred kilos maybe?"
"And what would this new SLIP scanner weigh?"
"A little more, say one twenty-five. What are you getting at?"
"How much for a 360-degree IR scanner?"
"Well, that's out of my area, but they're big...hold on a sec..."
He worked on his tablet a minute. "The last IR telescope launched was 2045, it was about a metric ton. What are we talking about Ann?"
She was also pounding away at her tablet but looked up when he asked.
"A drone, Roger, a stupid boring drone. IR detector, SLIP scanner, and SLIP transmitter to send data home. If we could get such a thing, we could build them by the dozens-"
" or hundreds,"
"...and we could leave them like little info-mines all over the place."
"Info-mines. Cute. I like it. Let's get Scott and Kathy in here and see what they think."
; Roger went out and dragged the other two into the workroom. Ann began drawing blocks on the electronic discussion board, adding questions, numbers, more questions.
They had gone in there around 11 AM. It was after 1 PM when Rich Evans walked through the workroom, coming back from lunch. He couldn't help noticing the animated group in the small room. Through the glass, he could see a little of the board - SLIP, SLIP SCAN, and IR SCAN scrawled pretty plainly. They did not notice him watching. After a moment, he walked over to Elias Peña's office and knocked gently on the door.
"Come in! Oh, Hi, Rich. What's up?"
Evans looked at Peña, then back across the room, then back, as if he wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he asked Peña, warily.
"So, Elias, should we worry that we have four of our people holed up in the little workroom, working on I got no idea what?"
Elias got up and came to the door to see for himself.
"Huh. Yeah, I've seen that before. Wait until the hands get down below their shoulders and they are nodding their heads more than shaking them. And if they sit, that's a good sign, too. Once that happens, it's safe to go in. For now, whatever it is, just let 'em run with it."
Evans chuckled. "Understood. I'll check on them in a little while."
"Or they may come to you before that."
It was almost 2:30 when Rich took another look at the crew in the small room. There was now evidence of lunch — fast food bags and drinks on the table. They were all seated, with Ann appearing to review what was on the board, which had the appearance of having been erased and re-written several times. Deciding that Peña's criteria were satisfied, he wandered over and tapped on the door. Kathy Stewart opened it as the other three scrambled to their feet.
"Oh, please sit," he said, slightly disgusted. Rich was always a little uncomfortable with military formality in an office setting like this. We're here to work together, he would say, not to bow and scrape just because of rank.
"So, what's up?" He closed the door behind himself, then leaned against it, arms crossed.
"Info-mines," Kathy said brightly.
"Yeah - for the record Ann came up with the name."
Rich looked around at four young faces all pretty happy with themselves.
"Info-mines...so...OK...tell me more."
Ann pointed to the board.
"Well, we have a lot of space to monitor, and we can't possibly do it all with ships, not with any persistence. It will always be hit-or-miss. Besides, we have better things for our ships to do than sit around looking into empty space-"
"Like killing the bastards." Kathy interrupted.
"Right, like that. Drones are good at doing boring shit," Ann finished.
"OK, keep going," Evans said.
Roger picked it up from there.
"We also have the SLIP project - once we have a working scanner, we'll need to place some number of them around to watch for enemy transmissions. The more, the better, and the wider dispersal, the better our location ability is."
Rich was intrigued. "We've sent a good part of the fleet out to check the nearby stars. What you're proposing, assuming I get it, is to replace that effort with these Info-mines."
"Not quite, sir. Ships, people, need to check for immediate dangers...a ship or depot or some other enemy facility...but these drones could remain behind to give us a continuing presence. It would let us keep watching long after we've left."
Rich shifted his back against the door, hand on his chin, thinking.
"Based on their appearance at Inor, I think this enemy is arrogant, or maybe just ignorant, and the idea that we would keep watching after we're gone might not occur to them. I like it."
He thought for a few more seconds.
"So, what about the time delay problem? If they come out of FTL far enough away, it will be a while before we see it at the IR sensor, right?"
"True," Ann responded, "but in this application, I don't think we care. We were thinking each mine would call in on an irregular schedule, maybe once a day or once a week or so, to report any SLIP messages or IR hits it has seen. We could always include an interrogation function so we could ask it what its seen since the last data dump."
"I'd rather know right off, but I see what you're saying. And keeping the drone..."
"Info-mine," Scott interrupted.
"OK...Info-mine...as quiet as possible is a good idea."
"So, what do we do now, Commander?" Scott asked.
"Well, you could see if you have a couple billion dollars laying around."
"We already checked the cushions on the chairs, no luck," Kathy responded.
"This is a good idea, folks. Ann, write it up and send it to Elias Peña, Captain Harris, and me. Set up a time for us to talk it over further."
And so, the Info-Mine was created.
The next day, Ron Harris and Fiona Collins brought CINC down to FleetIntel to talk to Ann and her group. He was impressed and got funding for a pilot run of twenty units. But, he insisted on a slick new name - Sentinel.
Ann’s group was disappointed. To them, they would always be InfoMines.
Bachelor Officers' Quarters
Ft. Eustis, VA
Thursday, March 10, 2078, 2330 EST
The resident officer's quarters were small, just enough room for a bed, minimal closet, sink with a mirror, and a desk. It was actually not much larger than a Captain's duty cabin on a ship. Two rooms shared a shower and toilet. It was close living, but the price was right, and for single officers and warrants spending a great deal of time on duty, it was a good deal. Scott Morgan had returned to his room late this night after working on the design requirements for the Sentinels. It was a lot of work for the growing but still-small Intel shop, but he was glad to be in the middle of the action.
He had also spent time today reading over the Liberty timeline based on the sensor data. Several issues nagged at him, including how the enemy targeted her so quickly. As he stood in the shower, trying to make the steaming hot water rinse away the stress of the day, he replayed the timeline over and over in his head. The IR flash, the bright dots on the visual so far away, the radar images of...wait...radar? RADAR?? He grabbed his head with both hands. How the hell did we miss that? he thought. He quickly finished his shower. Still dripping, he picked up his phone and called Captain Harris.
"Morgan, what the hell are you doing on my phone at this hour?" Ron said with equal parts annoyance and concern for his team member.
"Liberty. They turned on the radar."
"Yeah, so what...oh hell. Morgan, you're thinking that's how they saw her?"
"Yes."
"How did we miss that?"
Scott smiled. The boss was no slouch.
"Exact thought I had, sir. It's so obvious we never thought of it."
"If that's what happened, then our stealth may not really be compromised. Carpenter advertised his position." Ron's mind was racing forward.
"Yes, that's how I see it."
There was a short pause as Harris considered what to do next.
"OK Scott, set up a meeting at 0900 with the group and we'll talk it out. If we think this is right, we'll have to get an update out to the fleet."
"Yes, sir will do."
"And Scott - good work. This has been driving a few of us pretty crazy over the last few weeks."
"Thank you, sir."
Morgan was able to set up the meeting using his phone and then managed to get to sleep, but much later than he had planned.
The next morning there was a louder buzz than usual when the FleetIntel core staff met at 0900. Scott went into the office around 0600 - he was awake anyway - and began looking again at the engineering and surveillance logs from Liberty. It didn't take long. The radar had been engaged almost immediately after the IR detections and never turned off. The group finally sat and quieted down.
"OK, as you already know Scott woke me up last night. Go ahead Mister Morgan."
Scott leaned forward to speak.
"Y
es, it's pretty obvious now. Right after the IR contacts, Liberty turned on her radar, and they continued to run it until the end. If this culture understands radio and radar, that would explain how easily she was targeted."
"I agree as far as that goes," commented Rich Evans, "but that is only one possible mode of detection. Have we looked at the potential for stellar occultation? If Liberty was blocking some bright stars, that might be how she was seen."
"It is possible, Rich, but since we know for sure the radar was left on, and we don't have a substantial reason to think that a significant occultation occurred, I think we need to act on what we think is most likely," Peña said, putting an end to the occultation argument. Scott Morgan spoke up in response, glad for the deliverance.
"We should get a message out to the fleet — something like how further analysis of the Liberty data shows that the enemy may be aware of radar and to keep use to a minimum?"
Harris nodded his agreement.
"Draft it up, Scott, and send it to me and I'll get it out."
It didn't take Scott long since he had been writing it in his head all morning.
PRIORITY 207803111500UTC
TO: ALLFLEET
FROM: NAVINTEL
FURTHER ANALYSIS OF LIBERTY DATA GIVES STRONG
INDICATION THAT ENEMY IS AWARE OF RADAR.
RECOMMEND ALL SHIPS MAINTAIN RADIO SILENCE UNTIL
IN OPINION OF COMMANDER THE REQUIREMENT FOR
RADAR DATA OUTWEIGHS RISK OF DETECTION.
END
Antares
Enroute to Lacaille 8760
Tuesday, March 15, 2078, 1130 UTC
Antares was late leaving Earth due to some shakedown issues, but was now enroute to Lacaille 8760, a dim red dwarf not quite 13 light years away. A week out, newly-minted Weapons Officer Carol Hansen was again crawling up a magazine of Lances to figure out where the stack was stuck. Her Chief Tech, Emilio Guzman, was beside her as they worked their way to the top of the missiles, eventually finding a bracket bent slightly, just enough to hang the mechanism. A well-placed mallet strike from the chief put the bracket back where it belonged. They crawled back out and re-ran the rotary pre-load.
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