by Tori Harris
“Execute,” the pilot ordered, resuming his businesslike and deadly serious tone.
Chapter 20
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
“Four minutes to our waypoint, Captain,” Dubashi reported.
“Understood,” Prescott said. “Still no update from Medical?”
“Nothing yet, sir,” she replied, just as the aft bridge entrance door opened to admit an exhausted-looking Nenir Turlaka, still wearing her surgical scrubs.
All activity on the bridge ceased momentarily as the entire bridge crew stared expectantly at the Wek ambassador-turned-surgeon.
“He’ll be fine,” she finally said with a broad smile, after which the room immediately erupted in applause and relieved expressions of gratitude and congratulations for the two surgeons who had narrowly managed to save the Wek admiral’s life.
“You could not have brought more welcome news, Doctor Turlaka,” Prescott beamed, shaking her hand gratefully as he ushered her towards one of the vacant command chairs at the rear of the bridge.
“I’ve actually been sitting with him in recovery for some time. I apologize for not letting you know sooner, but I was afraid the news might distract you at a critical time.”
“He’s awake already?” Reynolds asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes, but he’s still pretty groggy at this point. If it were up to him, I’m sure he would be up here on the bridge anyway. That was probably an error in judgment on my part … I should have anticipated that would be a problem and just left him sedated,” she replied, shaking her head. “In any event, when I received your message I threatened to knock him out for the remainder of the mission and came up here straight away. How can I help?”
“I wish I knew,” Prescott replied, shaking his head. “Honestly, without Admiral Naftur, we’re pretty much making this up as we go. We could definitely use your advice and assistance during the negotiations, though. At the moment, we are approaching a group of four Resistance ships who have agreed to an official parley just a few minutes from now. From what we can tell, they are here guarding their task force’s original rally point while they await the arrival of additional warships. It was always my understanding that Admiral Naftur believed he might somehow be able to convince their senior officers to stand down — that Humanity was not a threat to the Sajeth Collective, and that an attack on Earth was unnecessary.”
Turlaka breathed in deeply and released a long sigh accompanied by a low, mournful sound from the center of her chest. “My dear Captain, there is, of course, much that you do not understand about our world, our culture, and Rugali Naftur. The truth is that he may well be capable of such a feat by sheer force of will. I will say no more on this subject, for it is simply not my place to do so. I will, of course, do everything I can to help you in this … negotiation, but I must tell you that I am not optimistic about our chances for success.”
“Surely they realize that things have not gone as they originally planned. Don’t you think they might be looking for an alternative strategy at this point?”
“Some of them might be. The vast majority of those serving in the Sajeth Collective military are Wek, as you know. On the whole, we are an honorable race with a proud history of bravery in battle, public service, and, when necessary, sacrifice for the ideals in which we believe. Unfortunately, those same qualities have sometimes allowed our people to be manipulated by those who are … shall we say … unburdened by the influence of guiding principles. I believe this ‘Pelaran Resistance’ movement is the ultimate expression of just such a manipulation.”
“Are you telling me they are unlikely to negotiate in good faith?”
“I’m telling you that you are unlikely to be negotiating with a Wek officer. Ironically, the movement is led primarily by the Damarans. Do not misunderstand me, for I do not mean to condemn their entire civilization. Like any other, their people have both positive and negative qualities, but in the Sajeth Collective, their traditional role has been tending to the machinery of our alliance’s enormous bureaucracy. While it is exceedingly rare for a Damaran to serve in the military, it is all too common for a member of their race to be the root cause of military conflict. We will almost certainly be negotiating with a Damaran today. Be on your guard, and know that they are keenly attuned to what they believe to be the current balance of power. If they perceive weakness, they will not hesitate to resort to violence — even in a situation where they have given their word to the contrary.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. We are, of course, very grateful for your help. We’ll just have to do the best we can under the circumstances and hope for the best.” Prescott paused to take in the situation on the bridge before addressing the crew in a strong voice. “Everyone listen up for a moment. If this negotiation does not go as we hope it will, much will depend on how quickly and effectively each of us is able to respond. I need you to listen closely for orders that concern you, but I’m also relying on you to execute the plan we have discussed without input from Commander Reynolds and me. Does anyone not understand what is expected of you or have any questions about what we’re doing?”
Prescott’s question was met with shaking heads and concerned but confident expressions around the room.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said calmly. “Dubashi, did Captain Zhukov and Commander Waffer understand their role in the plan?”
“Yes, sir. They can, of course, see everything that’s going on with only a short comm delay and are standing by for our signal. Our data will allow them to transition in very close proximity to the Resistance ships, if necessary.”
“Good. Tactical, any change in those cruisers?”
“No sir,” Schmidt replied. “All four have kept their shields and weapon systems powered up since we first arrived.”
“Sir,” Ensign Fisher interrupted, “we have arrived at our waypoint.”
“And we are being hailed by the Hadeon again,” Dubashi added.
“At least they’re prompt,” Prescott said, coming to his feet and smiling at Ambassador Turlaka as he worked to quickly focus his mind. “On-screen, please.”
A window immediately opened on the view screen to reveal an alien species never before encountered by Human beings. Although expecting to see something other than a Wek, Prescott still felt the same strange, almost involuntary sense of shock as when he had first laid eyes on Nenir Turlaka, now standing to his immediate left. With so much at stake, he forced his personal observations to the back of his mind for later, but knew immediately that he was speaking to a Damaran. Based solely on appearance, it didn’t take much imagination to better understand some of the comments he had heard from both Naftur and Turlaka over the past month.
“I am Captain Tom Prescott of the starship TFS Theseus. You may already know Nenir Turlaka,” he said, nodding to his left, “the Sajeth Collective Ambassador to Terra. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
“I am Captain Woorin Miah, and I can assure you that I represent the true will of the Sajeth Collective much more than your so-called Wek ‘ambassador.’ I do know of you though, Miss Turlaka, and it is gratifying to see that you were not slaughtered by the Humans with the rest of our ships sent to extend them the hand of friendship. For your own safety, perhaps the first thing we should do is get you transferred to one of our ships.”
“If I may,” Turlaka began, “I have no idea where you received your information, Captain Miah, but our squadron was destroyed by the Pelaran Guardian, not the Humans. Captain Prescott and his crew saved my life in the aftermath of the attack. I have been treated with the utmost respect and hospitality during my stay on Terra and believe we have nothing to fear from the Humans. In fact, it will be my strong recommendation to the Governing Council that we work to form closer ties with them in hopes of solving our mutual problem of Pelaran aggression.”
Miah looked around his bridge momentarily as if trying to determine if Turlaka’s words were being heard by any members of his crew. “Do
not despair, Miss Turlaka, it is clear both from your words and from your appearance that you are under duress. Captain Prescott, using one of our citizens in this shameful manner is a clear violation of the rules governing an official parley. Unless you agree to transfer her to us immediately, there is little point in further discussion,” he said, as if looking for any excuse to resume open hostilities.
“I’m sorry to keep interrupting, Captain Prescott, but if I may be allowed to address Captain Miah’s points,” Turlaka began again, her voice now more forceful and commanding than he had ever heard previously. “I am in no way under duress of any kind. I am here of my own free will and continue to act in my capacity as an ambassador on behalf of the Sajeth Collective. Duress, indeed! I do not believe either of us can name a single instance in recorded history when a Wek has been compelled to say or do anything that would put so many others at risk in such a cowardly manner. As to my appearance, I have just come from assisting a very skilled Terran surgeon in saving the life of Admiral Rugali Naftur onboard this very vessel.”
“Lies!” Miah hissed. “Captain, you and this Wek impostor have failed to negotiate in good faith and have hereby lost the status afforded you under the rules of parley. If you will heave to and peacefully surrender your vessel, you and your crew will not be harmed. Otherwise, you are hopelessly outgunned and will surely be destroyed.”
“Captain Miah,” Prescott said. “Please allow me to assure you once again that we Humans mean you no harm. We came here today seeking to avoid hostilities between our peoples and in the hopes that we can …” Prescott stopped himself mid-sentence as the window previously displaying the Damaran abruptly closed.
“Transmission terminated at the source, sir,” Dubashi confirmed.
“Humph, that went well,” Prescott grumbled. “Will he attack?” he asked Turlaka.
“Almost certainly, unless his crew refuses to follow his orders, which would be an exceedingly rare occurrence.”
“All hands, this is the XO,” Reynolds announced as Prescott and Turlaka took their seats and allowed the AI to secure them firmly in place. “Combat operations imminent. All personnel should be restrained at this time. Reynolds out.”
“Helm, back away slowly. Let’s give them the opportunity to allow us to leave peacefully, but keep our bow towards them for now,” Prescott ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Fisher said as the distant, rumbling sound of Theseus’ sublight engines increased slightly as she began to slowly accelerate stern-first away from the Sajeth Collective cruisers.
“I’m seeing a power spike on three of the four vessels, sir,” Schmidt announced from Tactical 1. “They’re firing!”
“Everyone execute now!” Prescott bellowed. “Comm, get those fighters in here. Tactical, designate Charlie 4 as a noncombatant until she proves otherwise. Charlie 1 is our first target.”
At the Helm console, Fisher first applied maximum forward thrust, allowing Theseus to arrest her slow, stern-first retreat in mere seconds. As the destroyer began to surge forward in the direction of the Sajeth Collective ships, he immediately C-jumped to a location above and directly in front of the BD cruiser Hadeon, now designated as Charlie 3.
“Straight at ‘em from here, Ensign Fisher,” Prescott ordered.
“Aye, sir!”
Directly ahead, Hadeon had opened up once again with her starboard energy weapons banks, and had expected to be joined by the two older, but still incredibly powerful heavy cruisers, Charlie 1 and 2 — both of which had prepositioned themselves to allow for overlapping fields of fire at the outset of the engagement. After Fisher’s short C-Jump, however, Theseus was no longer conveniently located within their planned “kill box.” With the Terran destroyer now suddenly bearing down on the Hadeon’s position, Charlie 1 and 2 found that their beam weapons no longer had a firing solution at all and they dared not engage with missiles for fear of hitting their own BD cruiser.
“All weapons ready, Captain,” Lau reported.
“As we pass over Charlie 3 dead ahead, you should have a clear shot at Charlie 1’s stern. Hit her with all five forward plasma torpedoes. Helm, as soon as the torps are away, turn to bring the aft tubes to bear.”
“Aye, sir,” both officers answered.
“Lau, fire at will with all beam weapons and railguns. Concentrate your fire on their stern just like last time. Lieutenant Lee, are the shields holding?”
“Yes, sir, but they’re taking a hell of a beating at the moment. Zero hull impacts so far,” he responded from the Science and Engineering console.
At hundreds of locations surrounding Theseus’ massive hull, an unbroken series of flashes burst forth to light the immediate area as her AI worked to intercept the relentless hail of incoming fire from the enemy BD cruiser. The awesome spectacle playing out on the bridge view screen reminded Prescott of a time-lapsed video he had once seen condensing several hours’ worth of lightning from an intense thunderstorm into only a few seconds. As the bolts of energy streamed in from Charlie 3, Theseus’ AI deflected as many as possible in the direction of Charlie 1, adding to the barrage of beam and kinetic energy weapons fire already hammering the cruiser’s aft shields.
“Fisher, as soon as the second torpedo salvo is away, C-Jump one light minute straight ahead.”
“Looking forward to it, sir,” he replied.
For a brief moment while Theseus passed directly over the Hadeon, both of the BD cruiser’s energy weapons banks had the opportunity to target the destroyer’s underside simultaneously. The firing was so intense and from such close range that some of the bolts managed to impact the ship’s ventral hull. The destroyer shook with several impacts as sections of her outermost armor were ablated by the incoming fire. A few anxious seconds later, as the sound of the impacts finally ceased, each member of the crew stole a quick look at the hull impacts counter on the tactical plot, which now stood at seven.
“Lieutenant Lee, damage report.”
“No apparent damage so far, Captain,” he answered without looking up from the Science and Engineering console. “The shields apparently start to lose some effectiveness when we have multiple hits with low angles of incidence, though.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Hear that, Fisher, let’s not try that again.”
“Got it, sir,” his young helmsman replied enthusiastically as the first salvo of five plasma torpedoes issued forth from the ship’s forward tubes. Traveling at nearly thirty percent the speed of light, the compressed bolts of plasma reached the stern of Charlie 1 in less than three one-thousandths of a second, delivering over seven times as much energy to the cruiser’s aft shields as Ingenuity’s had during the previous battle.
“Forward torps away,” Lau said, after the fact.
“Direct hits,” Schmidt reported. “Their aft shields are still up, but fluctuating.”
“Aft torps, as quickly as possible,” Prescott replied.
On cue, Fisher pulled the destroyer into an aggressive climbing turn to port that shortly thereafter allowed her aft torpedo tubes to acquire their target.
“Aft torpedoes away,” Lau reported again as Theseus’ railguns continued to pound Charlie 1’s stern with a steady stream of kinetic energy penetration rounds.
“Tactical C-Jumping,” Fisher reported.
As relative calm returned to the bridge, Prescott suddenly felt uncomfortable with the idea that Turlaka might be about to witness the deaths of thousands of her people at the hands of a civilization she had only recently met. “Madame Ambassador, you have our deepest gratitude for your assistance, but please allow me to have you escorted somewhere more comfortable for the remainder of our encounter with the Resistance forces.”
“By that, you obviously mean that you intend to wipe them out completely,” she replied calmly. “No, Captain, you and I have both acted appropriately. The Pelaran Resistance is an illegal, rogue regime that is putting all seven worlds of the Sajeth Collective at risk with their cowardly, dishonorable conduct. I do not relish the
idea of anyone, Wek or otherwise, losing their life, but today, I believe we are doing what is necessary to protect both your home and mine.”
Prescott stared at her briefly, wondering if she was truly prepared for what she might be about to see. “I am very sorry it has come to this. You have my word that I will continue to do everything I can to avoid any unnecessary loss of life.”
“Sir,” Fisher reported, “I’ve plotted a return transition point that should keep us well clear of our fighters as well as Charlie 2’s field of fire. We will still be close enough to reengage, if necessary.”
“Execute your C-Jump,” Prescott replied.
With the ship no longer in immediate danger, the AI took a few extra seconds to both warn the crew of the impending transition and complete a more exhaustive set of diagnostics than during what Fisher now referred to as a “Tactical C-Jump.” “Capacitive hyperdrive engaged,” the AI’s synthetic voice announced ship-wide, “transition in 3 … 2 … 1 …”
In the center of the bridge view screen, the three Resistance cruisers reappeared and smoothly expanded to fill the bottom center of the display as Theseus covered the seventeen-million-kilometer distance back to Location Dagger in the blink of an eye.
“I have the fighters,” Schmidt reported. “They are staying well clear of the cruisers, sir. The two flights are designated Badger 1 and Badger 2 on the tactical plot. Charlie 1’s shields are still up, but they’re intermittent at this point.”
“That’s good,” Prescott replied. “I’m pretty sure one of those hits we took would have been more than enough to take out one of our fighters. Besides, they don’t need to get close. All they need is good data to execute their attack, and we’ve given them plenty of that. How about Charlie 4? Any change?”
“No, sir. She is continuing to move downrange — steady course and speed.”