by Tori Harris
“I wish I had more to offer you. In fact, I seriously considered not revealing this information for that very reason. I recently read an old proverb of yours, however, that seemed to fit the situation. It said, ‘praemonitus, praemunitus … forewarned is forearmed.’ Perhaps you should consider publicly revealing this knowledge in the hope that it might mitigate the Pelaran influence somewhat.”
“Perhaps, but this situation is already developing so fast that I’m afraid we may find ourselves committed to following a path not entirely of our choosing.”
Chapter 5
TFS Jutland, Earth Orbit
(0605 UTC - Primary Flight Control)
“Attention on the hangar deck, this is the Air Boss. Stand by for a forty-eight-spacecraft launch event. This will be a rapid-turn, simultaneous launch utilizing all eight elevators — two Hunter RPSVs per elevator, sixteen ships per cycle, and three launch cycles. Spacecraft-handling officers report readiness and expect a green deck in zero four minutes.”
Commander David Waffer scowled as he studied the bank of view screens lining the front wall of TFS Jutland’s Primary Flight Control, or “Pri-Fly,” while draining his fourth cup of coffee in the past two hours. The carrier had barely been in space for twelve hours, but, gratifyingly, she had still managed to maintain a fairly steady pace of flight operations during that time.
Within minutes of the ship’s arrival in Earth orbit, Admiral Patterson had issued an order that at least two, four-ship formations of C-Drive-equipped Hunter RPSVs were to remain on patrol at all times. Waffer knew the admiral to be an extraordinarily detail-oriented officer, so he took it as a sign of just how overloaded everyone was at the moment that he had overlooked the fact that only the Jutland currently had any C-Drive-equipped Hunters aboard. Under normal circumstances, it would not have been particularly taxing for the ship to sustain heavy flight operations over an extended period of time, and keeping eight Hunters in continuous operation hardly constituted a challenging launch schedule in any event. The problem had more to do with the Jutland herself. At over a kilometer in length and with a displacement of over eight million metric tons, she and her sister ships were easily the most complex vessels ever constructed. Now, without the benefit of a shakedown cruise, she was being asked to perform at an operational tempo traditionally required of planet-side carriers only after having been at sea for a year or more.
“Hey Nilla, any word on additional Reaper ops?” one of the F-373 pilots called from the bulkhead pressure door, his upper body leaning into the room from the corridor. The call sign “Nilla” had been an all too obvious choice for Waffer. A number of his fellow pilots had even commented over the years that the moniker was a perfect match for his personality, even without the added benefit of his last name. The same analogy did not apply to the Air Boss’s flying, however, where his skills were likened to that of a true artist of the rapidly disappearing trade.
“Not for the moment, no. We’ll continue to keep two sitting ready-five, but I doubt we’ll put up a manned combat air patrol for a while. I suspect the admiral will continue the hold on nonessential flight ops until after the meeting at 1000 Zulu.”
“Oh yeah, we heard about the conference call with our friend GORT out there. Sure hope that one doesn’t go sideways on us,” the pilot chuckled. The name “GORT” had recently gained popularity among the rank and file members of Terran Fleet Command, who had grown tired of constantly referring to the Pelaran vessel as “the Guardian spacecraft.” GORT was a reference to the often remade classic science fiction movie “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” in which a giant robot of that name was said to be powerful enough to destroy the Earth. As if that weren’t enough, one of the movie’s remakes even referenced the fact that GORT was actually an acronym for “Genetically Organized Robotic Technology.” Appropriate or not, it seemed to be a name that was destined to stick.
“Well, if it does go sideways, I doubt we’ll be around long enough to worry about it much anyway, so whatever. At least I’ll get some rest,” Waffer laughed. “Speaking of that, the CAG was in here a little while ago. Please let everyone know that he expects there will be quite a bit more activity within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so they need to get some rack time while they can,” he said, referring to the commander of the Jutland’s air wing, still generally known as the “CAG.”
“Will do, Commander. You might want to do that yourself, sir,” he replied, allowing the bulkhead door to close as he headed back in the direction of his squadron’s ready room.
“Right,” Waffer muttered to himself. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Commander Waffer, three spacecraft handlers report a red status,” his assistant, often referred to as the ‘miniboss,’ reported. “We’re still having a pressurization problem on elevators four and eight, and one of the birds is showing a fault on one of its HB-7c missile racks.”
Not for the first time this morning, Nilla drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly through pursed lips, commanding himself to relax and focus. “Tell them they have zero three minutes to sort it out and report back. Otherwise, let’s reconfigure the launch event for six elevators and add another cycle. If they can’t fix the missile fault, disarm that rack or replace the spacecraft. I really don’t care which as long as we get this launch event underway soon. You can count on a call from the admiral otherwise.”
“Aye, sir. They’re on it.”
As useful and truly versatile as the ubiquitous RPSVs were, less than twenty percent of the fleet were made up of the newest “Block 3A” version, which included a variety of improvements — most importantly the addition of a C-Drive as well as C-Drive-equipped HB-7c missiles. Out of the over four hundred RPSVs deployed across the various Fleet ships now on station in the vicinity of Earth, only one hundred and twenty were the latest model. So far, Admiral Patterson had ordered eight of these to be on continuous patrol and was now sending forty-eight more to search for the Resistance task force. These two relatively simple missions had already committed nearly half of their most capable RPSVs … not even taking into account the inevitable need for spares. It wasn’t so much that the original Hunters weren’t quite capable in their own right — and with over three hundred of them available, they still represented one of TFC’s most important military assets. Without hyperdrive capabilities, however, earlier versions of the RPSV were limited to missions in the general vicinity of their mother ships. By comparison, the Block 3A upgrade provided a reconnaissance and strike capability with virtually unlimited range, rendering the previous models painfully obsolete less than a year after the first Hunter had rolled off the assembly line.
Outside, on the carrier’s massive flight deck, four teams wearing EVA suits very similar to those used by TFC Marines struggled with the uppermost set of elevator bulkhead doors. Elevators four and eight were the largest of the ship’s eight elevators. Each was designed to transport ships up to the size of Ingenuity-class frigates from the cavernous, pressurized hangar deck below to the flight deck during launch and recovery operations. Still largely based on technology that would not have seemed out of place centuries earlier, the mechanically actuated doors were now providing a perfect example of the types of problems normally addressed during a ship’s shakedown cruise. Thus far, in the brief but eventful history of Terran Fleet Command, however, there had been little time available for such luxuries.
“Air Boss, EVA1,” came the call from the lieutenant in charge of the flight deck maintenance crews.
“EVA1, go for Air Boss.”
“Commander, it’s a no go for the top bulkhead doors on both of these lifts. We might be able to risk it in an emergency, but that would leave just one set of locking doors between the hangar deck and a hard vacuum. Seeing as how those doors are pretty much the same as the ones that are having problems, I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Elevators four and eight are inop until further notice.”
“That’s not good news, Lieutenant. How long do you ex
pect it will take to fix them?”
“It’s not a repair we really want to attempt in EVA gear, sir. I’d categorize it as more of an installation problem than a typical break/fix situation. In space, this will take a week or more if we work on it around the clock. At Yucca, both lifts can probably be fixed in a day.”
Waffer paused to think through the implications of this latest problem. The main consequence would be losing the capability for larger ships to take advantage of the carrier’s hangar deck as an in-space repair depot. As far as combat ops were concerned, however, there should be minimal impact — assuming the remaining six elevators remained operational, that is. “Alright, EVA1, seal the lift tunnels and get your people inside. We’ll talk it over in staff and probably raise the question to Admiral Patterson, but I agree that it seems like an unnecessary risk at the moment.”
“Sorry about that, sir. Will do. EVA1 out.”
“Alright, there you have it,” Waffer sighed. “Go ahead and reconfigure the launch event for six elevators and four cycles. We need those RPSVs away immediately.”
“Aye, sir, already done,” his assistant replied. “Handlers now reporting a green status. They pulled two HB-7c missiles off the bird with the fault, so it’s good to go with six missiles aboard.”
“Very well. Green deck, get ‘em out of here.”
With the first cycle of the launch event now imminent, automated warning announcements from Jutland’s AI echoed through the hangar deck: “Attention, launch event commencing. Clear elevators one through three and elevators five through seven for immediate departure. Lift operation in six zero seconds.” On the floor of the hangar deck, six spacecraft directors, still commonly referred to as “bears,” stood poised next to their respective elevator platforms with one arm in the air to indicate that their area was clear and safe for lift operation. Just a few meters away from each bear, one of the first six pairs of Hunters sat poised for takeoff near the center of their lift platform — reactors, engines, and flight systems fully online. Since each two-ship formation would be conducting reconnaissance at a distance of two to five light years from Earth, they were configured to operate in a completely autonomous manner after leaving the carrier. Each pair would be responsible for surveying fourteen individual regions of space. Even in a worst case scenario where their last recon target turned out to be the staging area for the Resistance task force, the operation was expected to take no more than six days to complete.
“Pri-Fly, bridge.”
“Air Boss here. Go for Pri-Fly.”
“Sorry to interrupt you, Commander Waffer,” came the apologetic call from the on-duty bridge comm officer, “but we just got a message from the Flag asking what the holdup was on the Hunter recon flight op.”
Well shit … I guess I knew that was coming, Waffer thought cynically. “Understood. Please apologize for the delay and let Admiral Patterson know that the launch event is underway now. The first twelve Hunters will be away momentarily.”
“Thank you, sir. Bridge out.”
Waffer turned to look at his assistant, shaking his head. “Just so you know, I’m gonna say it was your fault,” he chuckled.
“No problem, sir. That’s what minibosses are for.”
Simultaneous launch and recovery options were once somewhat rare aboard planet-side carriers. This was primarily due to the fact that such a large area of the flight deck was required for catapult-based launches and arresting-gear landings. Non-concurrent or “cyclic” launch and recovery operations also provided an added safety factor by building in additional separation between aircraft during the most critical (and dangerous) phases of flight. This had changed significantly as vertical takeoff and landing capabilities became the norm for carrier-based aircraft in the late twenty-first century. Much more recently, the advent of gravitic systems for “zero mass” approaches and landings, as well as advanced AI-based control of aircraft during approach and landing now provided the few remaining Earth-bound carriers the capability to rapidly launch and recover large numbers of aircraft. The result of this strange technological progression was a remarkable similarity between carrier-based flight operations, whether on the surface of the sea, or in the depths of space.
“Attention, launch event initiated. Lift operation in five … four … three … two … one …” the ship’s AI announced. “Stand by for launch cycle two, commencing in three zero seconds.”
All six of the Jutland’s operational flight elevators rose simultaneously until each platform’s surface was flush with the carrier’s flight deck. Less than two seconds later, after a final confirmation of each of the RPSV’s mission profiles, the carrier’s AI granted autonomous control to each individual spacecraft. The Hunters then took an additional second to synchronize with the second spacecraft in their individual formations before running their own final set of pre-launch systems checks. In the silence of space, the departure had the look of a highly choreographed ballet routine as all twelve spacecraft slowly rose from the flight deck as one before each pair headed off in different directions, gradually increasing their speed to gain separation from the Jutland. A mere fifteen seconds after reaching the carrier’s flight deck, the space around all twelve RPSV’s distorted slightly as each spacecraft disappeared in a small flash of grayish-white light.
TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
Having spent the past hour in the shipyard’s command center with Captain Oshiro, Prescott made the long trek back to Berth Nine, where an ant-like line of technicians was already busily transferring equipment and supplies from Ingenuity to Theseus. He had not yet had the opportunity to complete a walk-around inspection of either ship, and was about to do so when he noticed Commander Reynolds standing alone at the end of one of the gangways connecting Ingenuity to the wharf. She was so engrossed in the information displayed on her tablet that she did not even notice her captain’s approach.
“Where do you want all this stuff, lady?” he asked in his best, albeit poor, imitation of a gruff longshoreman.
Reynolds scowled without looking up at first, then glared at him over the top of her tablet. Expecting her captain to be well on his way to TFC Headquarters by now, it took a moment for his presence to fully register in her mind. Somewhat startled and embarrassed, she came to attention, tablet now at her side. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, obviously flustered at this point. “I didn’t expect you to be here and my mind is in about seven different places at the moment.”
“That’s quite alright, Commander,” he laughed. “I’m impressed with how fast this transfer effort has gotten underway. There must be five hundred people working between these two ships.”
“Over fifteen hundred total,” she said proudly, “and that’s just shipyard personnel. Captain Oshiro also let me have my pick from the six Theseus-class crews he has on standby. I probably didn’t win us any friends there, but I didn’t have a lot of time to waste.”
“What did you do, Sally, strip every ship of their best people?”
“I wasn’t quite that greedy, but I did end up grabbing five or six people from each ship with the highest overall eval scores for the specific roles we needed. I kept all of Ingenuity’s original ninety-seven crewmembers, so we needed a total of one hundred and eighty-one more. All but twenty-seven of those came from the crew previously slated for the Theseus. The rest I shamelessly pilfered from the other five ships.”
“Well, it’s very rare that you get that kind of opportunity, so I guess it’s fine. I might need to smooth out some ruffled tail feathers, though, so please send me the list of personnel you looted, as well as who you looted them from, so that I can start buying back some goodwill with favors of some sort. Any word on the Marine spec-ops unit?”
“They’re coming straight from a big training exercise at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina tomorrow. Get this, they are specialists in boarding actions and tactics. I obviously knew that all TFC Marines were well-trained in EVA ops, but I had no idea that they still considered
boarding and ‘cutting out’ actions to be likely scenarios for space-based units.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some footage from one of their demonstrations. It could end up being a pretty handy skill set under the right circumstances. I believe they still refer to those missions as VBSS, for visit, board, search, and seizure. A few months ago, I would have argued that we’d never run into a situation where that would come into play, but I guess I’ve already been proven wrong there. Master Sergeant Rios and his troops have had that training as well. On that subject, I asked Admiral Patterson that Rios and his assault section be integrated with our new platoon of Marines, but he couldn’t make any promises. Did you see anything about him being reassigned?”
“No sir, he’ll be staying on as the platoon sergeant. That’s usually only a staff sergeant billet, by the way, which is probably one of the reasons they are sending us a first lieutenant as a platoon commander. I believe we will have a total of forty-three Marines, including the lieutenant and Rios.”
“Outstanding. I’m really glad to hear that.”
“I was too, sir, but you haven’t even heard the best part yet. They’re also bringing along four of their brand new Gurkha assault shuttles.”
Prescott rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That is good news. Those should provide our smallish Marine platoon something like the punch of a larger heavy weapons unit. I don’t think we’d be getting this particular unit equipped with those new Gurkhas unless Admiral Patterson had something specific in mind, though. Please make sure their first lieutenant finds me as soon as he arrives. Hopefully, he’ll be able to provide some additional insight.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You’re just full of all kinds of good news. I keep waiting for you to get to the part where you start telling me everything that has gone wrong already.”