by Tori Harris
“For a split second, I actually did consider it, but as far as I know, a low-altitude transition has never been attempted by anything larger than a fighter. I’ve seen a computer model for this ship, though. Over structures and people on the ground, the absolute minimum altitude would need to be two thousand meters. The shock wave would probably still break a lot of windows in the area and seem like the end of the world if you were unlucky enough to be caught in the open underneath us at the time.”
Prescott paused to reconsider the situation momentarily as the ship’s AI announced General Quarters for landing. As the announcement concluded, the lighting on the bridge took on a blue color. “I hate to give a conflicting announcement, but let’s go ahead and add possible combat ops to the General Quarters status.”
“Aye, sir. That won’t be a problem,” she replied as a single additional keystroke on her screen caused the lighting on the bridge to dim slightly. Shortly thereafter, the blue hue indicating an imminent landing became mixed with the eerie red tint associated with combat operations. While the AI announced the updated status, crew members throughout the ship hurried to their action stations. Just forty-three seconds later, all departments had reported their readiness, exceeding their captain’s standing expectation by two seconds on their first real-world attempt.
“All six reactors available and operating at one hundred percent. All weapons charged. We are at General Quarters for landing with possible combat ops, Captain. Should we configure the ship for landing?” Commander Reynolds asked.
“Very good, Commander, thank you. Not just yet I think,” Prescott replied, still staring at the combined sensor view of the area around the landing zone.
“We’ll be directly over the landing pad in zero one minute, Captain,” Fisher reported.
“Hold position above the cloud deck once we get there, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir.”
As good as the electronic countermeasures employed by TFC Headquarters were, Theseus was equipped not only with a powerful array of sensors, but also an AI capable of sifting through incredible quantities of data in an effort to uncover seemingly inconsequential patterns. Patterns that, in this case, finally resulted in the discovery of a weakness in the facility’s thermal masking systems.
On the bridge view screen, the view of the landing zone resolved into perfect clarity, with a variety of raw sensor information now used to produce a photo-realistic representation of the situation on the ground. A situation that looked as if it could quickly spin out of control.
Chapter 17
Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(Approaching the wooded area behind the JAG Building)
“Stop!” Nenir exclaimed in a hoarse whisper that brought the four members of their party to an abrupt halt. “We are not alone here.”
Hearing nothing, but feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end from the urgency of the Wek’s warning, the young Marine immediately motioned his small party back up the path in the direction of the picnic pavilion. He knew there was very little cover available unless they made it all the way back to the JAG Building, which did nothing but take them farther from their destination.
“Everyone relax,” Sexton said calmly as all four took the short walk back to the pavilion, stopping between the rows of tables under the center of the structure.
“Did anyone actually see any movement?” the Marine asked, looking back towards the line of trees as casually as possible. “Could it have been our people coming from the landing pad area?”
“I have seen nothing,” Admiral Naftur replied, “but I smelled them as soon as Nenir spoke. I trust you will understand that I mean no disrespect when I tell you that Humans emit a most peculiar scent when under stress,” he smiled. “My senses are not as sharp as they once were, but there is definitely a large party nearby.”
“Thirty,” Nenir said flatly. “Perhaps more.”
“Maybe so, but if they have thirty HQSEC troops waiting for us in the woods, what are they waiting for?” the Marine asked.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Sexton said, nodding back in the direction of the JAG Building as a small armored personnel carrier (APC) bearing HQSEC’s emblem on both sides rounded the northwest corner and headed in their direction. “It’s alright. Just stay calm and let me handle this,” he said, holding up both hands in a pleading fashion. “We haven’t violated any orders that have been issued so far, so there is no reason for them to prevent us from taking you to meet the Theseus as far as I know.”
The lightly armored vehicle stopped at the halfway point between the building and the picnic pavilion, its small caliber railgun traversing in their direction as the side and rear doors opened to reveal several HQSEC troops armed with pulse rifles and a woman in civilian business attire. In the distance, more guards could now be seen both in the line of trees to the west as well as along the top of the JAG Building. There was absolutely no doubt that such an overwhelming show of force was intended to remove any thought of resistance or escape.
“Admiral Sexton,” the woman called out with a commanding tone. “I am placing you under arrest for dereliction of duty as well as providing aid and comfort to two enemy combatants. There is no reason for anyone to be injured, but I need you all to throw down any weapons you might have, lock your fingers behind your heads, and kneel on the ground in front of the pavilion. Headquarters Security will then place you in restraints before taking you into custody.”
“It grieves me to hear it, Madame Chairwoman, but I can assure you that no such crime has taken place,” Sexton replied. He had felt an involuntary chill run down his spine the moment Crull emerged from the troop carrier. Had some sort of coup already taken place in the Council chamber, or would history record that it had been he who had attempted a coup? At the moment, he knew only that his best option was to play for time in hopes that help would arrive in time. “As is my sworn duty, I will be happy to submit to any lawful order issued by the Leadership Council. Has an order for my arrest been issued?”
Crull furrowed her brow and scowled at Sexton through narrowed eyes. “I have issued such an order, Admiral. As the Chair, you know very well that my orders carry the full authority of the Council.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I do not believe that to be the case. No single person on the Council is in my direct chain of command,” Sexton replied in a carefully measured tone. Crull was always a bit dramatic, but there was now something almost … unhinged in her demeanor that he had never before witnessed. “Before we go any farther down this path, perhaps you and I should appear before the Council together. If what you say is the will of the full Council, they can issue a duly authorized order for my arrest at that time. Once that happens, you have my word that I will comply.”
“Give me your weapon, Sergeant,” she ordered the nearest HQSEC guard.
“Uh, ma’am?” he stuttered, unsure how he should respond.
“Idiot! What part of ‘give me your weapon’ don’t you understand?” she screamed, wheeling on the young NCO and physically ripping his pulse rifle from his grip. With a surprisingly practiced hand, Crull checked the weapon’s status, disabled the safety, and aimed it directly at the center of Sexton’s chest. “You will comply now, Admiral! At least one of your crimes is a capital offense, so I’ll execute you on the spot if need be.”
As she steadied her aim and prepared to fire, Crull heard a distinct THUMP somewhere in the distance off to her right. The sound was not one she recognized … almost like something heavy and metallic had impacted the ground not far away. The fact that she had felt the impact as much as she had heard it caused her to take her eyes off the admiral and look in the direction of the sound. Within a few seconds, the THUMP was repeated, this time from somewhere behind her. Now wholly distracted, Crull lowered her weapon and turned completely around to stare back in the direction of the most recent sound.
Watching from above and slightly behind, but still completely obscured from
the ground by the heavy fog, Lieutenant Jacks issued a flurry of orders to several of his troops only four hundred milliseconds after the muzzle of Crull’s rifle started moving towards the ground. Before she had even managed to turn in the direction of the Marine who had executed an intentional hard landing just to her north, five others dropped with the same intimidating but bone-jarring impacts near the picnic pavilion. Each did his best to place himself in the line of fire between the chairwoman and Admiral Sexton’s group, taking quick aim at both Crull and the HQSEC personnel surrounding the APC.
Since the “universal” EVA combat armor was intended to fulfill a variety of mission types, including crowd and riot control, if necessary, its designers had realized that a voice amplification system might be useful in certain situations. In some ways as dangerous as the pulse rifle itself if used incorrectly, the “VA” system was always a favorite during training exercises. When atmospheric conditions were just right, troops could sometimes use the system to yell to other members of their squad located as far as fifteen kilometers away in a voice that could reach one hundred twenty decibels (roughly the same volume as a clap of thunder). In addition to amplifying the user’s own voice, the system also provided a “command voice” option, which produced a psychologically profiled tone which had a tendency to compel most Humans into immediate compliance. It was with this voice that Lieutenant Jacks now addressed Chairwoman Crull and her HQSEC troops. It was a voice without an apparent source, thundering from the leaden sky above as if God himself had decided to intervene in the current situation.
“Chairwoman Crull and all HQSEC personnel. You are interfering with an active Terran Fleet Command military operation. For your own safety, you are required to stand down immediately. Lower your weapons, step slowly into the open, and lie face down on the ground. Comply immediately and you will not be harmed. Marine special operators will be relocating Admirals Sexton and Naftur as well as Ambassador Turlaka aboard transport. Once we are clear of the area, you may resume your normal security operations.”
During the time it had taken Jacks to make the announcement, Master Sergeant Rios had seen to the deployment of the remaining Marines. Rather than slamming into the ground for effect, each now touched down in complete silence, quickly taking up key positions to cover HQSEC troops located on the roof of the JAG Building, in the vicinity of the APC, and inside the line of trees to the west. Although the HQSEC force significantly outnumbered the Marines, none were wearing anything more substantial than standard-issue body armor. Perhaps even more importantly, none were TFC Marines.
This being the first operational appearance of the universal combat armor, none of the HQSEC troops had ever seen the like. Each was a truly terrifying merger of man and machine — with an unspoken promise to become the embodiment of rapid, violent death to any who chose to stand against them. Not only could the Marines fly, but the overwhelming power of their presence, along with Lieutenant Jacks’ earth-shattering voice, was more than enough to convince every member of the security force to quickly follow instructions. Only seconds after the first TFC Marine had landed, all but one of the HQSEC troops lay face down with their hands interlocked behind their heads. Only Chairwoman Crull — who had once again taken aim at Admiral Sexton — and the commander of the HQSEC detachment — who appeared to be calmly trying to convince her to hand over the rifle — remained standing.
Crull, seeing that she had a clear shot, and desperate to regain control of the situation, squeezed the trigger.
Situations of this type have always had a tendency to take on a life of their own — the simultaneous actions and reactions of multiple, independent yet wholly intertwined participants coalescing to chart an entirely new course for the events that followed. In the seconds leading up to this point in time …
— Lieutenant Jacks had been about to order one of his men to take down the chairwoman with what would have (hopefully) been a nonlethal shot from his pulse rifle. Doing so always involved significant risk for the target, however, so upon seeing the HQSEC commander’s attempt to disarm her peacefully, he had delayed his order momentarily.
— Master Sergeant Rios, believing that Crull was more likely to open fire with every passing second and knowing that there was insufficient time to issue orders to one of the five Marines near the pavilion, raised his own weapon, selecting the “plasma channel” setting as he prepared to fire.
— Admiral Naftur, sensing the very beginning of the minute series of muscle contractions he knew would inevitably lead to Crull firing her rifle, moved with a quickness well beyond the capabilities of his Human companions. Springing powerfully to one side, he shouldered Admiral Sexton out of the path of the incoming directed energy bolt before the weapon had even discharged.
Thanks entirely to Naftur’s quick response, Crull’s shot missed Admiral Sexton entirely, tearing instead through the Wek admiral’s chest and nicking the aortic arch above his heart. The compressed bolt of plasma continued its path of destruction until its lethal cargo of energy had been expended, finally dissipating just before it had passed completely through his body to exit his back.
Less than one second later, Rios’ pulse rifle fired a beam of directed energy, striking Crull squarely in the center of her chest. The beam, while doing no damage on its own, created an invisible channel of ionized air between the weapon and her body, acting like a virtual wire. Sensing that a conductive path now existed between itself and its target, the rifle released a lower energy form of plasma — amounting to a fist-sized ball of lightning — which covered the distance to its target at just shy of the speed of light. Upon impact, the chairwoman’s nervous system was temporarily disrupted, causing an instantaneous loss of consciousness. Already moving to disarm Crull after she had opened fire, the HQSEC commander at her side grabbed the rifle even as her lifeless body dropped to the ground. Uninterested in suffering the same fate, he immediately threw down the weapon and willingly joined Crull and the rest of his troops face down on the frost-covered grass.
TFS Theseus
(Above TFC Headquarters campus)
“Savage 1, Theseus-Actual.”
Although there had been frustratingly little Prescott could do to alter the events transpiring on the ground, the confrontation with the HQSEC troops had led him to forgo the landing cycle altogether and instead move the destroyer close enough to reestablish communications with his two squads of Marines. The ship now hovered at the lowest altitude Ensign Fisher had deemed safe — her looming bulk a dark shadow in the fog that seemed to stretch to the horizon in both directions.
“Savage 1 here, Captain,” Lieutenant Jacks responded, happy to hear Prescott’s voice again. “Sir, we have a medical emergency. Admiral Naftur is critically wounded and requires immediate evac. We have a corpsman working to stabilize him, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Understood. We need you to get him loaded into one of your Gurkhas and onboard Theseus as quickly as possible. Once you finish with Naftur, I need you to get Admiral Sexton access to a comlink.”
“Aye, sir. Jacks out.”
There were a number of trauma units just minutes away in the assault shuttle, but none of them were any better equipped than the medical bay aboard the Theseus. More importantly, the warship had the added benefit of Doctor Jiao Chen, who was — by virtue of having been assigned to TFS Ingenuity when their species was first encountered — arguably the world’s leading authority on Wek anatomy and physiology.
“Doctor Chen, bridge,” Prescott announced.
“This is Doctor Chen. What can I do for you, Captain Prescott?” she replied, clearly in the middle of something. Although he always enjoyed working with the chief of his ship’s medical staff, Prescott often noted the contrast between his conversations with her and other members of the crew. Had he already become accustomed to an underlying level of deference that she, unlike most everyone else onboard, did not feel obliged to offer? He certainly hoped not, but Chen was a civilian after all, and a world-clas
s surgeon to boot — an elite among an elite class of doctors to be sure — a class not generally known for their deference to others.
“Admiral Rugali Naftur has been hit by pulse rifle fire and is gravely injured. He will be arriving on the flight deck momentarily via shuttle.”
“I’ve already spoken with the Marine corpsman who has been working with the admiral and we are prepping for surgery now,” she replied, obviously anxious to finish the conversation and attend to the urgent business at hand. “If she is not too traumatized, I would like Doctor Turlaka to scrub in.”
“Doctor Turlaka,” he repeated. “I had completely forgotten that she is a former surgeon. I’m confident she will do so if she is able.”
“She’s not just a surgeon, Captain, she’s a Wek cardiothoracic surgeon. Her help may mean the difference between saving him and not.”
“Understood, Doctor. I cannot stress to you enough the importance of Admiral Naftur’s survival. All of our lives may literally depend on it.”
“Rest assured that every patient is treated as if that were the case, Captain. Chen out.”
Prescott sighed deeply as he turned to look at his XO. “I’m afraid things may have just gotten quite a bit more complicated.”
“If anyone can save him, Jiao Chen is the right doc for the job,” she replied with more confidence than she felt at the moment.
“If she doesn’t, our options for handling the situation with the Resistance task force may be reduced to a very short list.”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi announced, “I have Admiral Sexton, sir — audio only.”
“Put him through, please.”
After a brief delay, a chime indicated that an active comm channel had been established and encrypted. Hearing nothing for several seconds, Prescott spoke up first. “Admiral Sexton, Prescott here. Are you receiving us, sir?”