by Tori Harris
“Perfect, please set that up for us. Good hunting, Badger flights. Prescott out.”
Suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic at being strapped in his command chair, Prescott released his restraints and stood. “Ambassador Turlaka, this young man will see you back to the medical bay,” he said, turning to gesture towards the Marine sentry near the aft bridge entrance. “There are adjacent sleeping quarters available for medical staff that utilize the same environmental systems as the operating room, so you can rest without the need for restraints. I’m sure you will also want to keep close tabs on Admiral Naftur.”
Nenir opened her mouth as if she were about to protest being dismissed in this manner, but the look on Prescott’s face made it clear that his words, while phrased as a courteous invitation, were intended to ensure that she would not be present on the bridge to witness another battle with warships from her own world. “Thank you, Captain Prescott,” she replied graciously as she rose from her chair. “I really could use some rest at this point.” Without further comment, she headed in the direction of the Marine sentry and quickly left the bridge.
Reynolds glanced at her captain under raised eyebrows and simply nodded.
“I’m afraid this time we may not have the option of showing the restraint we displayed during the first engagement,” he said by way of reply.
“Badger 1 ready … Badger 2 ready,” came the terse, tactical comm calls from the two flights of fighters over the bridge speakers.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi reported, turning to look at Prescott with an impish grin, “Badger 1 and Badger 2 Flights report that they are in position.”
“I heard. Thank you, Lieutenant,” he smiled. “As long as the AI is relaying their tactical comm, you need not repeat their calls unless you think we missed something important. Please go ahead and hail the Baldev.”
“Aye, sir, hailing.”
After a short delay, Captain Ditanu Yagani appeared in the center of the bridge view screen.
“Hello, Captain Prescott,” he said, wearing a confident smile. “Commander Takkar of the Hadeon speaks highly of you, so I am pleased to have the opportunity to meet you myself.”
“Thank you, Captain Yagani. I’m sure his enthusiasm has more to do with his conversation with Admiral Naftur. I regret that our two surgeons have since insisted that he return to the medical bay to rest, but I am confident he will want to speak with you as soon as he is able to do so.”
“I had the honor of meeting the esteemed admiral once before, but I doubt he would remember me. In any event, I am sure you have contacted me at this time so that we can arrange a peaceful and mutually beneficial end to this confrontation. Let me say from the outset that I appreciate the fact that you showed remarkable restraint in dealing with Commander Takkar and in allowing our rescue teams to evacuate the damaged cruiser Babayev. At this point, however, I hope you will agree that the Baldev’s arrival has shifted the balance of power in our favor. Accordingly, I would like to propose a simple end to hostilities at this point. You have my word of honor that you and your crew will be treated with the utmost respect and provided with the same accommodations as our own personnel. Come, Captain Prescott, we have both been busily positioning our forces in preparation for further combat, but there is no need for any additional bloodshed on either side.”
Prescott breathed in deeply and commanded himself to respond with as calm a demeanor as possible. “Look,” he began in an almost sympathetic tone, “I have only recently had the opportunity to get acquainted with your species, and I don’t mind telling you that I already consider the first two Wek that I met to be good friends. I’m confident Admiral Naftur will tell you the same — as evidenced by the fact that he very nearly sacrificed his own life to save one of our officers. I believe the reason our people seem to have a natural affinity for each other is very simple — we have a lot in common and share many of the same values. And since I know that to be true, I don’t believe for one second that you would ever see surrender as a viable option if our roles were reversed. We are here defending our homeworld, Ditanu, so you know that I must decline your offer. Having said that, Admiral Naftur will also tell you, as he told Commander Takkar earlier, that we are not your enemy. I agree wholeheartedly that additional bloodshed is unnecessary. Let us both stand down here and now, prevent the Resistance attack on Earth, and then address the Pelaran threat together.”
Yagani stared at Prescott for a long moment, appearing to be giving serious consideration to his proposal. Ultimately, his face seemed to cloud as if he had encountered some unassailable obstacle that prevented further progress along this line of thought.
“Under different circumstances, I might well be inclined to agree with your proposal, Captain, but today my duty obliges me to take a different path. Know that I take no pleasure in this course of action, but I must insist that you surrender your vessel or be destroyed. Since we were operating under a flag of truce, I will allow you a period of two minutes to reposition your vessel or to withdraw completely if that is your choice.”
“I am saddened to hear it, Captain. We are acting in self-defense, so a withdrawal is not an option for us. If, at any point during our engagement, you reconsider and decide that you would like to either surrender or cooperate, my offer will remain open.”
“As will mine, sir. Yagani out.”
“Tactical, range to the Baldev, please,” Prescott said. With the decision made, his voice had taken on a much harder edge than during his conversation with Captain Yagani.
“Just over three hundred thousand kilometers, sir,” Lieutenant Lau responded.
“Helm, you have two minutes to double that distance and put us in a position to either C-Jump clear or attack Charlie 2. Sublight engines only, please.”
“Aye, sir.”
In a display intended to give the much less maneuverable Resistance warships pause, Ensign Fisher increased Theseus’ engines to maximum power — heading initially in the direction of the Baldev before gracefully rolling the ship inverted relative to her former flight path and executing a tight Split S turn to head in the opposite direction. Throughout the maneuver, her remaining twelve Hunter RPSVs maintained perfect formation in two groups posted slightly below and to either side of her flight path. The ship accelerated steadily away from the enemy vessels until reaching nearly five percent the speed of light, then reversed thrust — her massive sublight engines providing a smooth deceleration to arrive at her chosen destination well before Captain Yagani’s two-minute warning had expired. The impressive demonstration of the destroyer’s power sent the clearest possible message to the enemy vessels — the Terrans came prepared to fight.
Chapter 3
TFS Philippine Sea, Earth Orbit
(Primary Flight Control)
“Attention on the hangar deck, this is the Air Boss. Stand by for a twenty-four-spacecraft launch event. This will be a rapid-turn, simultaneous launch utilizing all eight elevators — one F-373 per elevator, eight ships per cycle, and three launch cycles. Spacecraft-handling officers report readiness and expect a green deck in zero three minutes.”
As remarkable as it seemed for a single carrier to be performing at a reasonable level of efficiency during only her second day in space, flight operations were progressing without a hitch on both of TFC’s most recently launched Jutland-class carriers. So far at least, there had been no serious equipment failures, and it also appeared that neither the Philippine Sea nor the Ushant suffered from the same installation problem that had rendered the lead carrier’s two largest spacecraft elevators inoperative.
With the first cycle of the launch event now imminent, automated warning announcements from Philippine Sea’s AI echoed throughout the hangar deck: “Attention … launch event commencing. Clear elevators one through four and elevators five through eight for immediate departure. Lift operation in six zero seconds.” On the floor of the hangar deck, eight “bear” spacecraft directors stood poised next to their respective eleva
tor platforms with one arm in the air to indicate that their area was clear and safe for lift operation. On each elevator, the pilots of the first eight Reapers (closely monitored by their onboard AIs, of course) quickly ran through their final pre-launch checklists — ensuring that their reactors, engines, weapons, and flight systems were fully online and prepared for combat. All twenty-four of the fighters departing from the Philippine Sea had been configured for a heavy anti-ship strike. Accordingly, every weapons station on the spacecraft capable of mounting a missile had been utilized. In addition to their dorsal and ventral railgun turrets, each fighter carried a payload of six HB-7c missiles within their internal weapons bays and another eight on pylons beneath their wings.
“Attention, launch event initiated. Lift operation in five … four … three … two … one … mark,” the ship’s AI announced. “Stand by for launch cycle two, commencing in three zero seconds.”
All eight of the carrier’s flight elevators rose simultaneously until each platform’s surface was flush with the flight deck. Less than two seconds later, after a final confirmation check of each fighter’s primary systems, the carrier’s AI granted autonomous control to each individual spacecraft. Each Reaper’s onboard AI then took an additional few seconds to run their own final set of pre-launch systems checks before signaling their pilots that they were cleared for launch. Scanning the area around their fighters with synthetically enhanced vision, each pilot then released the clamps holding them in place. On a final signal from their flight lead, all eight spacecraft rose simultaneously from the flight deck before rotating in place and heading off to a nearby assembly area to await the remaining members of their squadron.
Ninety-four thousand kilometers away, on the opposite side of the planet, an identical scene played out above the flight deck of the carrier Ushant. Less than ten minutes after the launch event began, a total of forty-eight F-373 Reaper aerospace superiority fighters synchronized their departure vectors and made final preparations for their C-Jump to Location Dagger.
TFS Navajo, Earth-Sun Lagrange Point 2
(Combat Information Center - 1.5x106 km from Earth)
“All forty-eight fighters are formed up and ready for C-Jump on your mark, Admiral,” Captain Davis reported. “Once they arrive, the squadron from the Philippine Sea will merge with Badger 1 Flight under Captain Zhukov. The ones from the Ushant will become part of Badger 2 Flight under Commander Waffer.”
“That’s a squadron and a half — thirty-six fighters each. Should we reasonably expect our two squadron commanders to manage that many spacecraft at one time?” Patterson asked.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. They occasionally run massed attack training exercises where they coordinate even larger numbers of ships. The neural interface they’re using is similar to the one our special ops troops use in their EVA combat armor, so it’s designed to handle complex operational scenarios with lots of moving parts … once you get the hang of it, that is. Other than the twelve Hunters from the Theseus, these are all crewed fighters anyway — with their AIs there to back them up in case they do anything … uh … unexpected. Worst case, Zhukov or Waffer can always make the decision to designate additional flight commanders, if necessary.”
“Well then, I’m sure Prescott will be happy to have the extra help … I’ll be surprised at this point if he doesn’t end up going toe to toe with three cruisers and a Wek battleship. Please issue final clearance to depart.”
A photo-realistic representation of the Earth nearly two meters in height, complete with current weather patterns (as well as real-time surface activity when zoomed in far enough to display it), currently dominated the center of the CIC holographic table. On either side of the planet, icons representing the two carriers were paired with those of their respective fighter squadrons awaiting orders from the flagship. Immediately upon receipt of the admiral’s “go order,” the icons representing the fighters disappeared in forty-eight simultaneous flashes of grayish-white light.
“Alright, I’m afraid that’s about all we can do for Prescott and company for now,” Patterson said, quickly reconfiguring the holographic table to display the location of the secondary Resistance rally point. “We should begin receiving data from Crossbow anytime.”
As if on cue, the space above the table shimmered slightly, then refocused to show two large, spherical outlines. Although hyperspace and “normal” space technically occupied the same physical location, the holographic table was often configured to display each as its own distinct region. Currently, the larger of the two spheres — representing “normal” space — displayed a blinking red icon near its center to indicate that, for the moment, there was no available data. The second, smaller sphere displayed a cluster of blue icons representing the seventeen Theseus-class destroyers awaiting the admiral’s orders in hyperspace at Location Crossbow.
“Are you planning to wait and see what happens at Dagger before ordering them to attack?” Captain Davis asked, nodding to the assembled ships.
“Originally, yes, I was. My hope was that Admiral Naftur’s presence combined with a show of force from Theseus and her fighter escorts might have persuaded the remaining Resistance forces to stand down,” he replied, uncharacteristically leaning with both hands spread wide against the side of the holo table. “Hell, all of this is seat of the pants, Ogima. You understand that, right?”
“I know what General Eisenhower said, sir: ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’”
“He probably did say something like that,” Patterson chuckled, standing up straight once again and rubbing his eyes without bothering to remove his glasses, “but that’s not his quote. That particular maxim paraphrases German Field Marshal Helmuth von Molkte the Elder. What he actually said was more like ‘No plan of operations extends with certainty beyond the first encounter with the enemy’s main hostile force.’ Eisenhower, on the other hand, said ‘In preparing for battle, I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.’”
“Alright, alright,” Davis laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender. “You’d think I would have figured out by now that I shouldn’t make historical references in the presence of the ultimate military history buff! What I meant to say is that we’re doing the best we can with the time and resources we have at our disposal.”
“True enough, I suppose. I definitely don’t think we would have ever planned for anything like this particular scenario, though, regardless of how much time we had available. I’ve gone over this whole situation in my mind a thousand times, but there’s still something that doesn’t quite add up for me. It’s almost as if the Resistance ships never really had any intention of attacking Earth outright.”
“Sir?” Davis asked.
“I don’t know … it’s probably nothing. It just seems like they’re going about it as if they have other, competing objectives in mind, that’s all. Never mind me, Captain. If a man runs on Navy coffee long enough without getting much sleep, his inner monologue tends to turn into a running commentary that no one really wants to hear. Back to your original question … since Naftur does not seem to have had the impact we were hoping for at Location Dagger, I don’t believe waiting for a resolution there is worth the risk of losing our opportunity at Location Crossbow. Go ahead and authorize the alpha strike with no changes from the original plan. Oh … and send Gamble 22 back to Location Crossbow as well. Tell him to remain in hyperspace while the destroyers conduct their attack. If those Resistance ships decide to make a run for it, I’d at least like to know what direction they went.”
“Aye, sir. Transmitting now.”
SCS Gunov, Location Crossbow
(5.93x1011 km from Location Dagger)
Commodore Naveen Sarafi stared with satisfaction and no small degree of wonder at the display screen in his ready room. Although long-range communications had been a reality for Sajeth Collective vessels for centuries, the underlying technology had advanced surprisingly little during that time. Althoug
h, by and large, the systems had proven themselves to be effective and reliable over the years, they were also unwieldy and somewhat impractical from an operational standpoint. At one time, in fact, the original deep space communications network had relied solely on fixed, planet-side installations coupled with geostationary satellites to connect far-flung governmental and military organizations across the Sajeth Collective. Unfortunately, even after countless attempts to miniaturize components of the system, the equipment still took up copious amounts of space. While entire buildings filled with comm gear were perfectly acceptable at sprawling governmental facilities, such had never been the case aboard ships of war, where every cubic centimeter of space was sorely coveted. Perhaps worst of all, the equipment had often forced captains to choose between either remaining out of communications or sitting stationary for extended periods (sometimes days at a time) while the system synchronized and established connectivity with the nearest node on the network.
At long last, the equipment providing the video feed and tactical information currently displayed on Sarafi’s screen represented a much needed and long promised quantum leap in communications technology. From the moment he had first been briefed on the system’s revolutionary capabilities, he had realized that, once widely deployed, it would usher in a new era of ubiquitous, real-time comm for the Collective and provide a tremendous advantage for its military forces. This fact had not been lost on the military oversight committee of the Sajeth Collective’s Governing Council, which had classified the most sensitive details at such a high level that very few officers who worked with the equipment every day were aware of its true capabilities.
Among the Resistance task force’s officers, only the commodore had been granted full access. And not for the first time, Sarafi found himself wondering if, under the circumstances, this might be a case where violating information security made more sense than potentially putting their entire mission at risk. After all, there were already hundreds of officers aboard his task force who were familiar with the Pelaran-derived surveillance drones being deployed by the newly commissioned Battlespace Defense cruisers. They knew the drones were capable of setting up a real-time defensive perimeter around their forces extending out to well over a billion kilometers. They knew that the system relayed detailed surveillance data — allowing the fleet to maintain nearly complete situational awareness, including live video, from any location inside the perimeter. In fact, he rationalized, the only thing they really did not know was the system’s range. And, in truth, neither did he. The Collective’s scientists did believe that there was a theoretical limit to the distance between nodes, but it was something on the order of one hundred light years — perhaps even more. In any event, when compared with the limitations imposed by the old Sajeth Collective network, the new system had virtually unlimited range.