by Tori Harris
It was at that moment that Theseus’ AI had finally processed sufficient information to both classify and positively identify the contact. Reynolds heard several expressions of recognition from members of the bridge crew as the image on the view screen resolved into near perfect clarity. Although the two massive warships displayed were currently headed away from the Theseus, the configuration of their drive sections were now all too familiar. On the tactical plot, the single yellow icon divided into two distinct contacts now represented by diamond shapes outlined in the angry red color indicating that both were hostile warships. Inside each icon, the traditional, two-letter code of “BB” indicated the enemy vessels’ platform type, while the accompanying text blocks provided an even more specific identification — SCS Zhelov and SCS Serapion.
“AI, resume General Quarters for combat operations, Condition 1,” Reynolds ordered. “Set status of all EVA activities to ‘Terminate Until Further Notice.’”
“General Quarters for combat operations, Condition 1 set,” the AI’s synthetic female voice responded in a businesslike tone. “EVA status change acknowledged. Please note that EVA activity is currently in progress.”
“Uh huh, tell me something I don’t know,” Reynolds muttered under her breath as the AI began announcing the status change over the ship’s intercom. “Flight Deck, are you still there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the duty officer replied. “I believe you were about to ask about our EVA status.”
“Yes, I was. Who do we still have outside?”
“The last of the damaged fighters is aboard and being secured as we speak. We have all four of them pushed as far forward as we can get them now, so they are no longer interfering with flight ops. Commander Logan and his team came in with the last fighter, so they’re all back aboard as well. I just spoke with him briefly and he said to tell you that he would report in as quickly as he can get back to Engineering.”
“That’s all good news. And what about the Marines?”
“One of the Sherpas, that’s Marine Rescue Flight niner zero two, is on final approach and will be aboard in zero two minutes. They have eight of the fifteen Marines aboard plus three Wek survivors from the Keturah. The other Sherpa — with six other Marines plus Lieutenant Jacks — was not yet en route back to the Theseus at last check.”
“Yes, that’s still the case. I need you to get that first Sherpa onboard and secured as quickly as possible. We have two battleships just like the one we fought earlier headed our way and unless we get underway before they have a chance to open fire —”
“Understood, Commander. And what about Lieutenant Jacks and the other shuttle?”
“I’m afraid they’re on their own for the moment. His team is aboard a Resistance ship, so I suspect they’re a lot safer than we are right now. Reynolds out.”
Marine Section “Rescue 11,” Location Dagger
(Near SCS Keturah External Access Point Two)
“Rescue 11, bridge,” Commander Reynolds called over the tactical comlink.
“Bridge, go for Rescue 11,” Lieutenant Jacks replied, sounding uncharacteristically winded.
“You’re out of time, Lieutenant. What’s your status?”
“We’re nearly there, Commander. We have all four Wek survivors secured in triple EPs. Three of them should be fine, but one is in pretty bad shape with third degree burns. The medical AI on his pod says he’s stable for now, though. We ran into some trouble on egress. I think our pressurizing and depressurizing several large compartments caused some additional structural instability and we ended up needing to clear quite a bit of debris on the way out. We’ll have everyone aboard the shuttle in zero three minutes.”
“I’m sure you received an alert that the Zhelov and Serapion have arrived.”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you still planning to move Theseus in closer to pick us up?”
“I don’t think we have time,” Reynolds sighed, the stress and frustration of the current situation clearly evident in her voice. “We’re in the process of recovering your first shuttle as we speak. In the meantime, those two battleships are headed right at us and will be well within weapons range before you can get back aboard Theseus. I’m afraid our moving in closer might actually put you in more danger than just having you stay put. Stand by one, Lieutenant. Captain Prescott just stepped back onto the bridge.”
“Careful, there,” Jacks’ AI interjected after ensuring that they were no longer broadcasting over the comlink, “she sounds calm enough, but I’ll wager she’s as mad as a cut snake.”
Nah, she’s just in a tight spot, that’s all. She’s a pro, that one … I wouldn’t want to cross her, though, and that’s a fact.
For the next few minutes, Jacks continued to supervise final preparations for his team’s departure from the Keturah, assuming (correctly) that his captain and XO were in the middle of a discussion regarding precisely what, if anything, they could do to help him. The prospect of being left aboard the dying ship, while a bit unsettling, didn’t pose much of a problem for his section of Marines — at least not in the short term. The power supplies in their EVA suits would last pretty much indefinitely, and would continue to generate plenty of oxygen for far longer than they would need it. The limiting factor, as usual, was food and water. Having exerted themselves over the course of the past hour, he assumed that most of his troops would have already run through the two liters of water in their suits’ onboard drink bags, and a quick status check of his own supply showed it to be less than half full. It would be at least a day before lack of water posed what he would consider an “emergency” situation, however. If they reached that point, there were several metric tons of survival rations, water, and medical supplies aboard their Sherpa. Even in the unlikely event that they somehow lost access to the shuttle, he felt sure they would be able to locate additional supplies aboard the Keturah, if required. Finding a safe place to eventually remove their helmets in order to eat might prove a problem, but it was one he could afford to ignore for now.
Jacks also knew that, in a worst-case scenario, their EVA suits were capable of traversing significant distances in space — perhaps allowing them to set out for one of the other damaged ships, if necessary. The suits’ integral Cannae thrusters were certainly capable of providing a steady acceleration over an indefinite period of time, hopefully achieving the speeds required to cover the vast distances involved before their occupants died of dehydration. Very few things frightened First Lieutenant Jackson “Jacks” Lee, but the idea of such a desperate journey across open, interstellar space sent a forbidding chill coursing down the length of his spine.
The Wek survivors represented an even bigger problem. Having risked his own life as well as those of the six other Marines in his section in an attempt to rescue them, losing even one at this point would represent the worst imaginable type of mission failure — perhaps in some ways even worse than losing a member of his own unit.
Pushing these rather morbid, unproductive thoughts from his mind, Jacks straightened his back, drew in a deep breath, and surveyed the situation just inside the large airlock that serviced access point two. The four triple EPs as well as what little equipment they had brought onboard were arranged neatly on one side of the small cargo bay, and the members of his section were prepared to depart. All that was required at this point was an order from the bridge to either hunker down and shelter in place, or embark for the trip back to Theseus. Either way, seeing all of his people as well as the Wek survivors safely back to the ship was both his singular focus as well as a point of professional and personal pride. No other outcome was acceptable.
“Rescue 11, Theseus-Actual,” Captain Prescott’s voice sounded inside his helmet, interrupting his stream of consciousness.
“Theseus-Actual, Rescue 11. Go ahead, Captain,” Lieutenant Jacks replied, hoping to hear that the massive destroyer would soon be waiting right outside to evacuate his team.
“Jackson, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I’m
going to have to ask you to sit tight for the time being. Those two battleships are coming on fast, and unless they change course, we don’t have time to bring you aboard before they’re likely to start shooting at us. Under the circumstances, I think I’d be putting you at more risk by pulling you out now than just having you wait it out there.”
“Understood sir. I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Jacks replied with more enthusiasm than he felt at the moment.
“With any luck, the two ships will receive their orders from Captain Yagani’s comm buoy shortly and be on their way before they have the opportunity to open fire. If possible, we don’t want them to know that we have people aboard the Keturah, so I’ve asked Flight Ops to tuck the Sherpa in tight against the Keturah’s hull on the opposite side from the approaching enemy ships. I don’t know if that will prevent them from detecting it, but it can’t hurt. In any event, the shuttle is still only about two hundred meters from your point of entry, so it won’t take long to get it back when you’re ready for it.”
“Will Theseus be departing the area, sir?” Jacks asked.
There was a brief pause on the comlink as Prescott considered the meaning behind the young lieutenant’s question and how best to answer.
“They seem to be headed our way at the moment, so my hope is to draw them away from the Keturah. Having said that, we’re in no condition to engage one of those ships at this point, let alone two. The good news is that we don’t believe either of them is equipped with the gravitic beam weapon the Baldev used against us, so, yes, once they get within weapons range, we will C-Jump clear. I know it’s a little uncomfortable being left out there, but rest assured we’ll be back for you shortly.”
“I’m not worried, sir. My guys never pass up a chance for a nap, so take your time.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” he chuckled, appreciating the young officer’s effort to stay positive while facing a difficult situation. “Prescott out.”
TFS Theseus, Location Dagger
(3.3 light years from Earth)
“Bridge, Engineering,” Commander Logan’s voice sounded from the overhead speakers.
“Prescott here. Go ahead, Commander.”
“Things are looking a little better down here, Captain. While we were outside, we repaired a coolant leak on one of our main ventral heat exchangers. It’s back online now and working fine. We also took a bunch of spare gravitic emitters with us in hopes of bringing more of the shields back online. It turns out that quite a few of the emitters we assumed were destroyed were just dismounted. When they take an impact, they’re designed to break free and fold down into a shallow recessed area built into their base. When they’re in this ‘conformal’ state, they’re supposed to be much less susceptible to additional damage. Frankly, I never believed it would work, especially against a fragmentary weapon like the Carrada —”
“So are you telling me we have our shields back?”
“It’s by no means a hundred percent, but yes, they’re mostly back online. Unfortunately, we did lose quite a few emitters completely, and the hull damage in those areas was generally too severe to mount any of our replacements. As you know, most of the worst damage is forward, so our shields are likely to be weakest near the bow. I strongly suggesting doing whatever you can to avoid taking fire head-on.”
“That’s still good news, Commander, and I’ll do everything I can to avoid taking fire from any direction at this point,” Prescott said. “I don’t suppose you were able to do anything about the plasma torpedo tubes and railguns we lost?”
“No, sir. Two of each are out of commission until we get back to Yucca. The torp tubes are fused shut and the two railgun mounts look like pieces of modern art at this point.”
“Alright, nice job. Thank you, Cheng. Prescott out.”
For the past few minutes, Theseus had been proceeding along a course that — assuming the enemy battleships continued their pursuit — would put as much distance as possible between them and the various other vessels in the area.
“So how do we go about drawing them away from the Keturah while still avoiding a confrontation?” Reynolds asked, still feeling unusually relieved to have Prescott back on the bridge.
“Well, fortunately, since we were still recovering the damaged fighters when we sent out Lieutenant Jacks’ team, we weren’t very close to the Keturah when Zhelov and Serapion arrived. Hopefully, they will assume that we would have been much closer if our intention had been to board her. If that’s the case, they may well ignore her completely. So far, they only seem to be interested in us, and I’m perfectly happy to drag them along until they realize they’re supposed to be somewhere else.”
“Sounds reasonable, I suppose, but don’t we have to assume they realize what we’re trying to do?”
“Absolutely, they do,” Prescott chuckled. “Don’t misunderstand me, Commander, I don’t mean to give you the impression that we are in any way controlling how this unfolds. We’re simply playing for time. They just happen to be playing along — for now. Perhaps Lieutenant Lau can give us some idea of whether they will continue to do so. What do you have for us, Lieutenant?”
“I just finished it, sir,” he replied, opening a window on the bridge view screen to display a rather complex-looking diagram indicating the relative distances between all of the ships in the vicinity. Irritated at having been off the bridge when the two enemy ships arrived, Lau had immediately thrown himself into the task of attempting to predict their movements upon his return to the Tactical 2 console. The result was a modified version of a three-dimensional situational awareness diagram commonly used for training purposes. Lines intersected at each vessel to form a series of triangles, all of which were slowly moving to both track and predict each ship’s relative position in space. In a further effort to provide perspective, the entire diagram slowly rotated about both its horizontal and vertical axes. Understandably, both Prescott and Reynolds’ first reaction was to tilt their heads slowly to the left in an attempt to make sense of what they were seeing.
“Okay, I know,” Lau said, noting the expressions on their faces and then turning to look at the diagram for the first time on the huge bridge view screen. “It’s a little confusing to look at, so let me break it down and point out a couple of things. We’re right here, of course,” he said, causing a red oval to temporarily flash around one of the vertices on the diagram. “Zhelov and Serapion are here. As you can see, they are continuing to increase the distance between them, but they’re still generally heading in our direction. They modified their courses slightly when we started moving, and they’re still accelerating, but not as quickly as our model indicates that they could be. They’re also executing some random course changes as they go, so I wouldn’t bet on a C-Drive missile strike being very effective.”
“We’re not planning to engage them,” Reynolds said, “but that doesn’t sound good at all. So you’re saying that they are trying to give the appearance of pursuing us, but they aren’t really trying to overtake us and bring us to action, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s the way it looks to me right now. If they really wanted to catch us, one of them could have easily transitioned to the opposite side of the battlespace to box us in.”
“Their behavior may also be consistent with their taking the time required to digest their orders from Commodore Sarafi before they commit themselves to any course of action,” Prescott added.
“That’s true as well, sir, but let me show you one more thing that worries me.” Lau turned to enter a series of commands at his console, causing a shaded polygon to be superimposed across the region of space formed by all of the vessels with the exception of the two battleships. “If we project the positions of the Theseus, Keturah, Hadeon, Baldev, and Babayev onto a single plane … this,” he said, highlighting a single point in space, “is its geometric center. And then if we project the courses of Zhelov and Serapion —”
“Well,” Reynolds replied, “there’s no way that’s a coincidence
. See how they’re continuing to spread out as they get closer to that point?”
“It’s probably not a coincidence,” Prescott sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “but what, if anything, does their behavior tell us about their intentions?”
“Two possibilities stand out for me,” Reynolds said. “They’re either hedging their bets while they figure out what they want to do — in which case, holding the center of the battlespace gives them the most options, kind of like sailing ships working themselves to windward of their opponents in order to take the weather gauge. Or … they already know what they plan to do — and holding the center of the battlespace still gives them the most options.”
“Lau, did you say that point was the geometric center of all of the vessels in the area?” Prescott asked.
“Yes, sir, with the exception of the two battleships.”
“Including the disabled Resistance ships?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Show me the Zhelov and Serapion’s beam weapons range based on the data from our battle with the Baldev.”
“What are you thinking?” Reynolds asked, noting a rising tone of urgency in his voice.
“Why would they take into account the range to their own ships — especially the disabled ones that are adrift and relatively isolated — even if they are positioning themselves to mount an attack?”
Lieutenant Lau immediately simplified his diagram to place the centroid of the battlespace in the center of the display window. The two enemy battleships were now surrounded by large red bubbles to indicate the maximum demonstrated range of their energy weapons. With the exception of the Theseus herself, it was clear that all five vessels would be in range once the two-ship formation reached the point at the center of the diagram.
Although Prescott could still conceive of several possibilities that might fit the current scenario, the one that now seemed by far the most likely was one he had not even considered prior to the two battleships’ arrival. With chilling objectivity, the rational side of his mind judged that it was probably already too late to change the outcome of what was about to take place, but the emotional side screamed with righteous, indignant fury for immediate action — demanding vengeance for an act that had not yet taken place.