The Terran Fleet Command Saga BoxSet

by Tori Harris

  “Not at the moment, sir, but we do have a few crews who have completed deployment missions before. The drone or beacon enclosures can be fitted to an external hardpoint and simply released at the desired location.”

  “Can a single ship complete a deployment while remaining undetected?”

  “Unlikely, sir. Not with a surveillance drone, since the pilot would be required to transition into normal space to deploy the second half of the system. Under the circumstances, I believe a communications beacon is the better choice, since doing so without detection should be possible. While its capabilities are limited to the relay of data, it would function in much the same way as a surveillance drone as soon one of our ships arrives in the area.”

  “The fighter would remain in hyperspace for the entire deployment mission, then?”

  “Yes, sir. C-Jump to the deployment location — drop the beacon — C-Jump home. Seems simple enough, yes? Although we have no way of knowing if the Resistance ships have the capability of detecting vessels in hyperspace.”

  “No we don’t. What we do know, however, is that we have no way of doing so ourselves unless we hammer the area with active sensor scans, and even then it generally only works for frigate-sized or larger vessels that remain stationary for an extended period of time.”

  “Correct. If we assume the Resistance vessels possess a similar level of capability, it is unlikely our fighter would be detected.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a particularly sound assumption, Captain,” Patterson grumbled, “but I believe it’s a gamble worth taking. I have two more questions for you and then I need you to get with Captain Donovan and make all of this happen as quickly as possible. Number one, can you disperse five of the beacons around the area to give us the best chance of providing something like real-time coverage, and, number two, how quickly can you get all of this done?”

  Zhukov glanced momentarily at a schematic showing the F-373’s ventral hardpoints, then nodded slowly as he responded. “The comm beacon launch enclosures are small, so I believe it will be possible for the Reaper to carry five, yes.”

  The concept of ‘stealth’ had changed radically in recent years as designers grappled with the implications of adapting military tactics to faster-than-light spacecraft. Since the early twenty-first century, for example, strike fighters like the Reaper had primarily relied on internal bays to conceal their often blocky and decidedly unstealthy weapons. While such concealment was still beneficial for some specific mission types, it was largely unnecessary for others — particularly those where the ship was able to remain in hyperspace for most of the approach to its target. As a result, designers had quickly returned to the practice of attaching external ordnance and other specialized equipment on pylons beneath the fighter’s wings and fuselage.

  “As for real-time communications coverage,” Zhukov continued, “we must make some educated guesses regarding the most likely location of the Resistance task force based on the information we have. If we assume the Hunters were destroyed in the immediate vicinity of the enemy ships, we may be able to establish NRD communications with only minimal delay. How much delay depends on the location of our ships with respect to the beacons once they transition into the area, of course. I can get a ship rigged and ready within the hour as long as our engineering staff can prepare the beacons for deployment that quickly. If you will permit me …” Zhukov paused, issuing several commands via his tablet. After a few moments, he looked back up at Patterson. “A fighter is being prepared for launch as we speak. I will be able to provide an estimated time to launch within the next few minutes.”

  “Excellent. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Patterson replied with a broad smile.

  “One more item regarding the reconnaissance in force mission … with your permission, the two flights will be led by myself and Commander David Waffer.”

  The admiral regarded the CAG through narrowed eyes for a moment, then softened his expression a bit before answering. “You know exactly what I’m going to say, Dmitri. I absolutely cannot afford to lose you or your Air Boss. At the same time, I recognize that you are both superb pilots and I trust your judgment as well as anyone else I could name.” Patterson took in a deep breath and sighed to himself before giving his answer. “Do not get yourselves killed.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I will add this new requirement to the OPORD,” Dmitri laughed.

  “See that you do. Now, just one more thing …,” Patterson said, his face taking on a piratical grin. “Let me tell you about a hunch of mine that may change a couple of items in your mission plan.”

  Chapter 12

  TFS Theseus, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility

  “Commander Reynolds,” Lieutenant Dubashi said over her shoulder from the Communications console, “Admiral Patterson just issued a prepare for launch order.”

  The XO had upgraded the destroyer’s status to “mission effective” immediately after the entire crew had completed their minimum required training rotation. This had the immediate effect of requiring Theseus to begin operating much more like a ship of war than an ongoing construction project. All six of the ship’s reactors were now online, her weapons and stores loadouts complete, and her bridge manned by a designated officer of the deck twenty-four hours per day. At the moment, Lieutenant Dubashi happened to be on duty, but Commander Reynolds, like competent executive officers since time immemorial, always seemed to be everywhere onboard at the same time.

  “Is that all the order contained?”

  “Yes, ma’am. There were no other details attached. The flagship has indicated that they will be attempting to use a new form of quantum cryptography for message traffic requiring the highest levels of security. They believe our standard encryption methods have been compromised, but they are continuing to use them for most routine communications. I suppose they consider that an attempt at deception, but I have my doubts it will make much difference where the Guardian in concerned.”

  “I see. Well, details or no, the admiral obviously believes something is about to happen,” Reynolds said. “I guess one good thing about being at Yucca Mountain is that we don’t have to worry about the crew wandering very far from the ship. Please confirm our status when you acknowledge the order, then go ahead and issue a general recall. As soon as you do so, we are granted a three-hour grace period. After that, we are required to be airborne within one hour of receiving an actual launch order, so things are about to get very busy around here.”

  “Aye, ma’am, but I’m not sure I remember things ever not being busy,” Dubashi laughed.

  “True enough,” Reynolds smiled, then looked at the ceiling out of habit before continuing. “Captain Prescott to the bridge,” she said aloud for the benefit of the ship’s AI.

  Within seconds, the captain had been located and summoned back to the ship, resulting in an immediate call via the ship’s comm system.

  “Reynolds, Prescott.”

  “Reynolds here. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “I’m in Captain Oshiro’s office at the moment. Did we get a prepare for launch order?”

  “Yes, sir, we did.”

  “I have been expecting that for a little while now. Admiral Patterson mentioned that he would like us to do a sort of ‘mini shakedown cruise,’ but I’m not sure if there is anything else going on or not. I assume you’re flying the Blue Peter?” he asked, referring to the traditional naval flag signal for “P,” signifying that the vessel was about to depart and that all personnel should report aboard immediately.

  “Yes, sir. Most of our people are already onboard, but everyone else has at least acknowledged the recall order. I’m not sure how much good a short shakedown cruise will do at this point, but the AI seems to think all of our major systems are in the green and ready for departure. Overall, I think we’re in pretty good shape. The extra couple of days have been a godsend.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’ll be along shortly. Prescott out.”

  SCS Hadeon, Pelaran Res
istance Rally Point

  (3.3 light years from Earth)

  Commander Woorin Miah strode onto Hadeon’s bridge for the first time in what he believed to be a manner befitting an officer commanding his own squadron of ships on detached duty. He was already a bit annoyed that there had been no honor guard present when his shuttle arrived and had also noted that the ship’s AI had failed to properly announce his arrival. Now that he had reached the bridge — his bridge — he was absolutely incensed by the apparent lack of respect. The Wek brute guarding the bridge entrance had not even bothered to call the room to attention when he entered. He stopped momentarily to glare at the Marine who, even without his combat armor, outweighed the Damaran by at least sixty kilograms and towered over him by thirty centimeters or more.

  “I am Commander Miah,” he seethed. Although it was rare that anyone addressed the young enlisted man while on guard duty, he immediately came to attention per his training. With his eyes focused straight ahead, however, he was barely able to see the top of the commander’s head in his peripheral vision. “You will see that your commanding officer contacts me regarding your failure to follow protocol after you complete your duty hours today.”

  “Aye, Commander,” the Marine responded smartly, in spite of having no idea what he had done to irritate the little Damaran.

  Miah regarded the man for a moment with a look of disapproval before spinning on his heels and continuing in the direction of the command chairs lining the rear of the bridge. In spite of the scene he had just created in the entryway, the Wek bridge officers on duty had not noticed his arrival. Instead, their attention had been focused on making adjustments to their defensive perimeter required by the imminent departure of their two sister BD cruisers.

  Stopping squarely in front of the console reserved for the ship’s commanding officer, Miah turned and stared down its current occupant — a commander who was busily issuing instructions via the Command console’s touchscreen. After completing his task, the officer looked up from his screen, offering what any Wek would consider a polite smile accompanied by a low purring sound from the center of his chest.

  “Good afternoon, Commander …” he paused while reading the Damaran’s nameplate, “Miah. I am Commander Yuli Takkar. How can I help you?”

  “You can begin by addressing me as ‘Captain Miah!’” he snapped, this time raising his voice to ensure the entire bridge was aware of his presence, and causing several heads around the room to immediately turn in their direction. “I am now in command of this vessel, as well as the other three that will be remaining here to secure the task force’s original Rally point.”

  “I beg your pardon, Commander Miah, but we have received no instructions along those lines from the Flag. Perhaps it’s just an oversight due to the haste with which we have been forced to relocate most of the task force. If you would like to have a seat here for a moment,” he said, gesturing to the empty Command console to his left, “I will be happy to confirm my instructions with the Gunov before she departs. My executive officer will also see to your accommodations aboard as well as anything else you might need during your stay.”

  “I relieve you, sir,” Miah growled with barely contained fury while holding his ground directly in front of the Wek commander’s chair.

  Commander Takkar was feeling less hospitable by the moment and, in fact, would probably have already taken grave offense to the Damaran’s abusive behavior under different circumstances. The situation struck him as so odd, even vaguely entertaining, however, that he managed to hold his temper in check for the moment. Is it possible this impudent whelp is telling the truth? he wondered. It was exceedingly rare that Damaran officers ever rose above the rank of commander — and they generally only reached that rank as a result of Governing Council fiat. It was also unusual for a member of their species to be given command of a single vessel, let alone a small squadron. Something about all of this didn’t seem quite right, but the Wek officer cautioned himself to avoid jumping to any conclusions just yet.

  “I’m waiting,” Commander Miah said impatiently.

  Takkar glanced at his second-in-command in the chair to his right, but received only a noncommittal expression along with what he was sure was a hint of amusement forming at the corners of his eyes. Fine, let’s see where this goes, he thought, chuckling to himself as he rose to his full height. At just over two meters in height, Takkar dwarfed the Damaran almost as effectively as the Marine sentry in combat armor. “I stand relieved, sir. I will, of course, remain on the bridge and assist you in any way I can.”

  “I will require your services in acting as my second-in-command. Handling the more mundane tasks of managing this ship and her systems will remain your responsibility, Commander Takkar,” Miah sneered without bothering to look at the Wek officer. “I have been tasked with guarding the original rally point until our remaining five battleships can arrive and be safely directed to join the rest of the task force.”

  “Captain Takkar, I have an incoming transmission from Commodore Sarafi aboard the Gunov,” a Wek lieutenant announced from the Communications console.

  Miah had just taken his seat, but immediately stood again to address the entire bridge crew. “Commander Takkar has been relieved as acting captain. I am Commander … excuse me, Captain Woorin Miah. I have taken command of this vessel as well as three others that will be remaining at this location until the remainder of our forces arrive.”

  Wearing a look of surprise and confusion, the lieutenant glanced at Commander Takkar for confirmation. Having already reached the point where amusement had transitioned to anger mixed with grave concern, Takkar simply nodded in reply before taking his seat at the command chair to Miah’s left.

  “Let’s not keep the commodore waiting, Lieutenant,” Miah scolded.

  Within seconds the face of Naveen Sarafi appeared on the bridge view screen. “Ah, Captain Miah,” he greeted “I trust you have found the condition of the Hadeon satisfactory and are settling into your new command?”

  “There are a few deficiencies, Commodore, but none that I won’t be able to handle,” he replied haughtily.

  “I’m confident you will,” Sarafi replied, a smile spreading across his face.

  Although lost on the Damaran, the manner in which the commodore was conducting himself provided further evidence for Commander Takkar’s growing suspicion that something was amiss. Like many of his contemporaries, he had been won over to the Resistance cause by the fiery rhetoric and saber rattling from several members of the Sajeth Collective’s Governing Council over the past several months. While covered around the clock by news outlets across the entire alliance, their lofty speeches were specifically crafted to appeal to the Wek population’s natural sense of duty and integrity. As a result, many had become convinced that the solemn oaths they had sworn to protect the Collective demanded that they take action to address the growing threat posed by the Humans and their Pelaran masters. While he agreed in principle, Takkar had been optimistic that some way could be found to simply eliminate the Pelaran Guardian spacecraft. Perhaps then, the Humans could be shown the folly of allowing themselves to become an instrument of Pelaran aggression. He sincerely hoped that this could be achieved without resorting to an all-out attack on Terra, but he did believe that some sort of temporary occupation of the planet might be required. Not for the first time since joining the Resistance, the Wek commander questioned whether he was being used in much the same way as the Humans — the only real difference being the identity of his master.

  “The rest of the task force will be leaving momentarily, Captain,” Sarafi continued. “Before we depart, I wanted to take a moment to reiterate the importance of your mission. We simply cannot proceed without the remaining five battleships, especially given the experience level of their captains. Frankly, I still do not believe that the Humans possess any forces capable of posing a serious threat to your detachment of ships. Having said that, I admit that I also did not anticipate the arrival of their
scout ships. Remain at your highest level of alert, Captain Miah. Any ships not transmitting Sajeth Collective identification codes should be considered hostile and attacked immediately. Do you have any questions?”

  Commander Takkar considered asking the commodore why he would risk such an unnecessary division of his forces when there were other secure methods available for directing the battleships to the new rally point. He knew without asking, however, that the commodore was well aware of this fact — although probably not this fool of a Damaran. He also knew that asking such a question would be treated as something approaching mutiny by both, although for very different reasons, he suspected.

  “No questions at this time, sir. Rest assured, I will have the crews of all four of my ships whipped into shape by the time we rendezvous with you.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Sarafi smiled. “Good luck, Captain Miah,” he said with an ironic tone noted by every Wek officer on the bridge.

  The commodore’s image was replaced by a view off the Hadeon’s starboard bow, which currently included several task force warships. Without further comment, Miah began his first act as captain by passing the time remaining until the task force’s departure overriding Commander Takkar’s preferences at the Command console.

  “Captain, the task force is transitioning to hyperspace,” the comm officer reported after a few minutes had passed.

  On the view screen, the starfield surrounding each ship’s hull appeared to blur momentarily, followed by a flash of gray light as each ship departed in rapid succession for the secondary rally point. Miah shot a disinterested glance at the bridge view screen before returning his attention to the Command console. After a few moments, he noticed an odd tension in the room that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Looking slowly up from his touchscreen, he saw that every Wek officer in the room was staring directly at him from their individual workstations. Miah felt the familiar tinge of panic form in the back of his mind as the reality of his situation slowly dawned on him. He was utterly alone … and, unless his usually keen hearing was failing him, he was sure he could detect low, threatening growls from at least three locations in the room.