by Tori Harris
“Very good, thank you.” It was certainly true that the new system provided a significant improvement over traditional defensive measures, such as the deployment of picket ships or RPSVs to create a defensive perimeter. The best a picket ship could do was transmit a warning back to the squadron at the speed of light, leaving a commander with the difficult choice of either a long comm delay or a small defensive perimeter. Instead, after arriving at their assigned surveillance location, the new drones deployed their own hyperspace communications beacon, enabling instantaneous, real-time data transfer with the distant BD cruisers.
If nothing else, Admiral Naftur’s foolhardy incursion into the Sol system had at least provided some insight regarding the Guardian’s preferred offensive tactics. Sarafi suspected that a reconnaissance probe had been used to obtain a passive “snapshot” of Naftur’s forces shortly after they had arrived in system. With the squadron not expecting an immediate attack after an extended voyage in hyperspace, they would have all been following a predictable course with a predictable speed. This had, of course, made things incredibly easy for the Guardian, which was then able to anticipate each vessel’s exact position in space and open fire before there was any possibility of detection. While not a pessimistic man by nature, Commodore Sarafi still doubted that his new perimeter surveillance drones would fare much better against the Guardian’s tactics. He was also painfully aware that he had little defense against the Pelaran’s vastly superior weapons. Based on all of the data gathered to date, however, he did believe that he could count on the Guardian spacecraft to behave in a manner at least somewhat consistent with their computer model. He, therefore, pinned his hopes on avoiding detection, if possible, and making things as difficult as possible for his adversary. Even the simple act of keeping his ships in continuous, random motion might be sufficient to delay their destruction long enough to allow most of them to escape — hopefully in sufficient numbers to execute a successful attack on Terra.
“Contact!” a young Wek Lieutenant called from the Gunov’s Tactical station. “Two small ships — they’re right on top of us, sir — only about ten light seconds out.”
“Origin?” Sarafi snapped impatiently.
“I’m not sure where it came up with the data to make its identification, but the fire control AI has classified them as Terran scout vessels … stand by … the Hadeon is firing!”
At the time the Terran vessels transitioned from hyperspace, Hadeon was the closest of the four battlespace defense cruisers. Fortunately, protecting Sajeth Collective forces from a surprise attack was precisely the role for which she had been designed. Well before Commodore Sarafi had even been made aware of their presence, Hadeon’s AI had already determined the enemy ships’ origin and type. This led to their immediately being designated as hostile targets, which authorized the BD system to open fire without further authorization per the task force’s standing rules of engagement. Although it would take the cruiser’s active sensors over twenty seconds to begin processing detailed performance estimates for the two targets — an eternity in such an engagement — real-time remote surveillance drone data provided the AI with more than enough information to begin its attack. Shortly after the cruiser’s first salvos began streaming downrange towards the two Hunters, drone data was supplemented with that provided by the “new light” gathered by the cruiser’s passive sensors. The AI also had access to performance data obtained from a highly classified source. All of these data points were quickly consolidated to produce a probability-based model describing the targets as if their designers had handed over a set of detailed specifications. Hadeon’s fire control AI now had everything it needed to begin placing its energy weapons fire at the most likely locations to intersect the flight paths of the Terran vessels.
“She’s adjusting her fire, sir,” the lieutenant reported, now using a much more disciplined tone.
Hadeon’s position on the periphery of the assembled Resistance ships had provided the cruiser with a clear field of fire in the direction of her prey. Within seconds, the entire side of the ship was once again lit with energy weapons fire as she worked methodically to destroy the Terran intruders.
Hunter Formation “Nail 42,” Near the Pelaran Resistance Rally Point
(3.3 light years from Earth)
The two Hunter RPSVs’ onboard AIs concluded that they were in serious trouble immediately after completing their transition back into normal space at their latest reconnaissance location. In one of those chance occurrences that sometimes determined the fate of nations, or even entire worlds, the formation had arrived at a point so close to their quarry that they would most likely not be able to avoid detection and attack. The Hunters’ passive sensors detected the presence of twenty-eight enemy ships, several of which were of a configuration similar to other Sajeth Collective vessels already contained in their onboard database. At an estimated range of just under three million kilometers, it would take only ten seconds for their light to reach the Resistance task force, thus alerting them to the RPSVs’ presence. It was a virtual certainty that, perhaps as little as ten seconds later, enemy weapons fire would begin arriving at their current location. What the two Hunters’ onboard AI did not yet know was that they had transitioned in the immediate vicinity of an enemy surveillance drone, which dutifully began relaying information regarding their configuration and exact position back to the Resistance task force in real-time.
The Hunters gave brief consideration to mounting an attack on the Resistance task force. Although two HB-7c missiles had been removed from the “Nail 43” spacecraft prior to launch, fourteen of the C-Drive-equipped missiles hung ready to fire beneath their fuselages and stubby wings. The chief difficulty in going on the offensive at this point was the distance to their targets. The enemy formation, as seen from the RPSVs’ current position, appeared as they had been ten seconds earlier. The Resistance ships were already in motion when the two Hunters transitioned into the area, and looked as if they had been in the process of taking some sort of evasive action even before their arrival. This made for a poor firing solution for the RPSVs’ missiles, which required precise targeting information in order to make their C-Jump and then emerge from hyperspace immediately before impact. Even in the unlikely event that all fourteen missiles managed to find their targets, the probability of inflicting any sort of meaningful damage was calculated to be less than ten percent. Based on the mission objectives they had been assigned before launch, the AIs from both ships concluded that their best option was to flee the area in hopes of delivering their critical reconnaissance information back to Terran Fleet Command.
Their course of action decided, the Hunters engaged their sublight engines at maximum power, accelerating away from the Resistance task force and also taking some random evasive action of their own. Each RPSV calculated that their C-Drives would need just under two minutes to reach a point where an escape transition would be possible, so their immediate goal was to confound the enemy ships’ efforts to target them just long enough to make their C-Jump back to the nearest hyperspace comm beacon. After a few seconds, both of the Hunters broke formation simultaneously and began increasing the distance from its former “wingman” at varying rates in the hopes that at least one of them might survive.
Unexpectedly, from the AIs’ point of view, energy weapons fire from the Resistance task force began arriving at their location just twelve seconds after their arrival. Both ships recorded the fact that the enemy must have access to real-time surveillance of the region surrounding their rally point in order to respond so quickly to their presence. Each also noted impassively that their chances of survival had decreased dramatically as a result.
Ten light seconds aft, well beyond the practical range of most warships’ energy cannons, the battlespace defense cruiser Hadeon continued its massive barrage of energy weapons fire. Still relatively new to Sajeth Collective naval forces, the Keturah-class BD cruisers were equipped with heavy emitters capable of the increased power hand
ling and beam coherence required for precisely this type of engagement. This, coupled with advanced fire control AI, placed the fleeing Hunter RPSVs still well within Hadeon’s lethality zone, particularly given that they were lightly armored vessels with no shields.
For the first several seconds, it appeared that the RPSVs’ evasive tactics might actually allow them to escape. Most of the incoming energy weapons fire passed well clear of their flight paths and initially gave the appearance of a randomized firing pattern sent in their general direction in the hope of scoring a chance hit. Over time, however, its accuracy steadily improved. Twenty seconds into the engagement, the fire control AI had gathered enough data to begin predicting how the Hunters would vary their flight paths in response to incoming fire. Just ten seconds later, Hadeon made her first kill. “Nail 43” took a glancing, off-axis hit that probably would not have been lethal under normal circumstances. Nevertheless, the energy bolt burned through the outer skin of one of the ship’s HB-7c missiles, causing a malfunction that detonated its compact antimatter warhead. The resulting matter/antimatter annihilation event was marked by the creation of extremely high-energy gamma photons and a brief but spectacular flash of visible light as the RPSV was completely obliterated.
“Nail 42” fared slightly better at first, surviving for almost a full minute before the cruiser’s ever-more-precise fire managed to coax the vessel into a predictable kill box. The beam that finally ended the Hunter’s attempted retreat struck the small ship squarely astern, quickly overloading its small reactor’s containment field and once again blotting it from space as if it had never existed.
As a matter of course, both Hunters had burst-transmitted their reconnaissance data in the direction of several of the nearest comm beacons, the last known positions of several TFC vessels, and towards Earth itself for good measure. Those signals, containing the crucial data needed for Earth’s defense, now streamed away from the Resistance task force’s rally point at the speed of light. It would take nearly eleven hours before Terran Fleet Command noted that Hunter formation “Nail 42” had failed to transmit an update via NRD net at the appointed time — and just under three years and four months before any of the RPSVs’ signals arrived at their intended destinations.
Chapter 10
TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
(Simulated Fleet Operations Training Center)
Terran Fleet Command operated the three most advanced full-motion simulation facilities ever constructed, each of which being collocated with one of their three largest spacecraft construction facilities. Here, the age-old military axiom of “train like you fight” was applied in the purest form allowed by the current state of the art. Every critical section of each Fleet vessel could be modeled with near perfect fidelity, including simulated weapons impacts with actual gravitic field manipulation that could be downright dangerous for any crewmember failing to follow real-world procedures to the letter. Although the cavernous rooms dedicated to reproducing the ships’ engineering spaces were impressive in their own right, it was the arena-like bridge simulation facility that tended to garner the most attention. The “bridge sim” had already earned the reputation of delivering a terrifyingly realistic facsimile of combat operations aboard Fleet vessels — along with a humbling dose of reality for their sometimes-cocky crews.
For the past several weeks, the simulator had been dedicated exclusively to preparing Theseus-class destroyer crews for their first deployments. Since Ingenuity’s arrival, however, her crew’s urgent transition to Theseus had left little time for the other destroyer crews.
“Did you notice that our chairs on Theseus’ bridge are much more comfortable than these are,” Reynolds asked, wearing a conspiratorial grin and leaning over so that only Prescott could hear.
This was the first time the entire first watch bridge crew had been present in the simulator at the same time. The frenzied pace of preparing the destroyer and her crew for departure had forced the XO into a “shotgun approach” to training where anyone not immediately required for duty onboard the ship was expected to be in the simulator. Although less than ideal, the entire crew had now successfully completed the minimal sequence required for designation as “mission ready” aboard the new destroyer.
“I was probably too distracted to notice. The rumor is that at least one person …” Prescott checked himself, looking around to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation, “soils themselves in here every day. Let’s just say that I was highly motivated to make sure that wasn’t going to be me,” he laughed.
“Seriously?” she grinned, suppressing what might have otherwise been uproarious laughter. “I never would have guessed something like that was happening, but thanks for giving me something else to worry about when I’m in here! Now that you mention it, though, I guess it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, given how intense it can be. I think they finally got all the G-force stuff dialed in the way Fleet Training wants it, but I have to say I think they may have gone a little overboard. We’ve seen real combat once and also did a real-world simulation at the Live Fire Training Range, but I don’t remember it ever being anywhere near as strenuous as it is in here.”
“I think that’s all about adrenaline and distraction. In the heat of combat, a little G-induced discomfort from lagging inertial dampeners doesn’t really register. We did briefly hit 6 Gs several times at Gliese 667, thanks to our wannabe fighter pilot helmsman over there.” Prescott briefly raised his voice enough for Blake Fisher to hear the jab, prompting the young ensign to respond from the Helm console by raising his hand in a “thumbs up” gesture. “Kip says they updated all of their settings based on Ingenuity’s battle data, so it should all be pretty accurate at this point. It’s definitely not what I’d call pleasant, though,” he said.
“No it isn’t … and I had a slice of pizza for lunch while running between Ingenuity and Theseus, so I really hope they aren’t planning on any of that kind of thing during today’s briefing,” Reynolds sighed, puffing out her cheeks.
“Hah, the old ‘a pizza pie before you fly,’ eh?” he laughed. “I think you’ll be okay. As far as I know, it’s just Kip doing the briefing, and I don’t think he has any plans to demonstrate anything other than general system ops. By the way, I was pleased to see that you managed to get everyone through their initial qualification training sequence. That’s quite an accomplishment, given the time crunch.”
“Thank you, sir. I didn’t think it would go over very well if Fleet gave us a launch order and we had to respond with a ‘mission ineffective’ status. Besides, it’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up sleeping.”
“The extra few days have been helpful for all of us, but our luck, if you can call it that, may not hold out much longer. If our reconnaissance flights are going to find the Resistance ships at all before they show up here, it’s going to happen within the next forty-eight hours. So now that we’ve reached a minimal level of readiness, I want you to bump crew rest up to the top of your priority list. Well-trained or not, we won’t perform if we’re sleep-deprived … and you know how I feel about stims,” he said, staring into his XO’s bloodshot eyes with a furrowed brow.
“Aye, sir. Will do.” For her part, Reynolds had never been especially fond of the idea of putting her people on prescribed stimulants either. Fleet Medical’s official stance was that they were safe and effective for keeping crewmembers on duty for up to seventy-two hours straight, but only in cases of ‘urgent operational necessity.’ Although she took more of a pragmatic stance on the issue than her captain, Reynolds hated the way they made her feel. She already dreaded the “detox” period — which usually required a different set of meds to help force her mind out of its chemically induced state of alertness so that she could finally get some rest. The absolute worst part about the stims, however, was the restless sleep and weird, unsettling dreams that always seemed to follow.
Prescott stared at his XO a moment longer, knowing full well that
she had worked herself well beyond the point of mental and physical exhaustion. He knew she was doing what she felt was required, and the last thing he wanted to do was discourage her after the monumental effort of the past several days. Instead, he contented himself with a subtle tilt of his head and a look that he hoped registered his concerns without any implied criticism.
“I know,” she smiled, nodding her head and closing her eyes momentarily. “I haven’t had one in twelve hours, and I’m hitting the rack right after this briefing.”
Prescott nodded his approval without comment, then paused briefly before getting back to the subject at hand. “Logan has been pretty tight-lipped about what he has to show us today, but I gather it’s mostly about new systems, particularly getting us up to speed on the shields.”
“Uh huh … I think I would appreciate eventually being assigned to a ship that’s loaded up with technology that has proven itself reliable over a long period of time. And by ‘proven itself reliable,’ I mean by someone other than us.”
“Oh come on. You have to admit we’ve been very fortunate along those lines so far. Besides, if the shields don’t work properly, we’ll be the first to know as soon as someone starts shooting at us again.”
“How did Joseph Heller say it? ‘That’s some catch, that Catch-22.’”
“‘It’s the best there is,’” Prescott chuckled, completing one of his favorite literary references.
The bridge simulation facility was becoming increasingly crowded as members of all three of Theseus’ bridge watch crews filed onto the floor of the simulator area itself. Since the room was designed to be quickly reconfigured to mimic the bridge layouts of all four of Fleet’s primary ship classes, it was a bit larger than Theseus’ actual bridge, thus providing a fair amount of standing room around the perimeter. At the same time, an even larger group composed primarily of crewmen from other departments filled the round observation deck perched high above the simulator floor.