TFS Navajo: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 3 (7 page)

“Okay,” Reynolds said, looking up from her touchscreen, “the AI had originally misidentified the
Baldev’s
gravitic weapon as a problem with our own field generators. The good news is that the effects of the weapon are relatively easy for us to detect since we have an extensive network of sensors in place to monitor the various gravitic systems we use onboard. From now on, the tactical plot should display a warning indicator when we detect the beam. The Helm console’s C-Drive interface should also display the same warning and trip the flags indicating that hyperspace transitions are unavailable. You can see them now, right Ensign Fisher?”

“Yes, ma’am. Got it. Thank you.”

“Good work, Commander. Tactical, range to the
Baldev
, please?” Prescott asked.

“One niner zero thousand kilometers, Captain,” Schmidt replied. “Just passing .05
c
and still accelerating.”

“I’m going to be optimistic and venture a guess that we’ll be able to transition to hyperspace once our range exceeds three hundred thousand kilometers.”

“I’m not so sure about that, sir,” Reynolds replied. “It apparently doesn’t take much interference to prevent the hyperdrive from doing its thing. I’m thinking more like double that. It’s a good thing Bravo 1 can’t come after us. They’re pretty much hamstrung as long as our fighters are covering their stern.”

“Dammit!” Prescott swore under his breath, realizing that he had neglected to update the fighter squadrons regarding
Theseus’
status. “Badger flights,
Theseus
-Actual.”

“Badger 1 … Badger 2,” Zhukov and Waffer replied in their typical, businesslike tone.

“I’m not sure how much of our situation you were able to piece together over the past couple of minutes, but the purpose of the gravitic beam Admiral Naftur warned us about is to prevent a ship from transitioning to hyperspace. They’ve been hitting us with it ever since we finished our attack run. We are unable to C-Jump at the moment, but believe we should be able to do so once again after we put sufficient distance between ourselves and the
Baldev
. The presence of Badger 21 Flight off their stern does appear to be forcing them to keep their supplemental shields engaged — and that, in turn, prevents their giving chase. Since I’m pretty sure coming after us is something they would very much like to do, I believe you should expect that they will focus their attention on you once we transition out of the area.”

“Badger flights copy. Be advised that we are still showing an operational status on all of our C-Drives, so they may only have the capability to target one ship at a time. What are your intentions, Captain?” Zhukov asked.

“Glad to hear it. Assuming we can clear their grav beam, we intend to C-Jump thirty light seconds downrange, take a quick look at the battle damage assessment, then set up for another attack run on Bravo 1’s stern.”

“Range to Bravo 1 now three zero zero thousand kilometers,” Schmidt updated in the background.

“Sir, if I may,” Waffer interjected, “our AI has been chewing on the data from your attack run and it looks like it was significantly more effective than our models predicted. I believe if you execute the same type of attack against Charlie 4, you will at the very least succeed in bringing down her shields so that we can finish her off. You may even destroy her outright. That gets us back to our original plan of being able to focus everything we have left on Bravo 1.”

Prescott glanced at his XO, who nodded her emphatic agreement under raised eyebrows. “Alright, Badger flights, we’ll go with your suggestion. We won’t be gone long once we C-Jump, so be ready to back us up once we return to start our next attack run. By the same token, don’t hesitate to C-Jump away yourselves if you come under fire.”

“Will do,
Theseus
, Badgers out.”

“Captain, Commander Waffer is definitely right about our attack,” Lau said from Tactical 2. “I was so focused on taking down shield emitters that I didn’t really notice the results of Lieutenant Commander Schmidt’s ordinance until now. Bravo 1’s aft shields remained intact overall — other than the supplemental field reconfiguration I mentioned earlier — but our point location attack seems to have placed so much energy in one spot that some of it managed to impact her hull.”

“That’s very good news, Lieutenant. Did we do any damage?”

“C-Jumping,” Fisher interrupted from the Helm console.

“And that’s even better news,” Prescott chuckled.

The sound of the destroyer’s reactors decreased in volume as the rate of shield intercept events instantly decreased from hundreds per minute to zero. With the Resistance warships now just over nine million kilometers astern, Ensign Fisher finally decreased power to the sublight engines and began the process of decelerating in a wide arc that would ultimately head them back in the direction of the battle.

“What was our range to Bravo 1 when we finally cleared their gravitic beam?” Prescott asked, supplanting his earlier question.

“Between five and six hundred thousand kilometers, sir,” Schmidt answered.

“Well, there you go, Commander,” he said, smiling broadly.

“I would have been fine with being wrong on that one, sir,” she replied. “It just surprised me how little energy it takes to keep us from making a hyperspace transition. I have to believe there is some way we can counter it, though.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case since it essentially nullifies one of our biggest tactical advantages. Lieutenant Lee, damage report, please.”

“We’ve got some hull damage, sir,” he replied without looking up from the Science and Engineering console, “but so far it seems to be limited to our outermost layers of armor plating. It also doesn’t look like we have lost any close-in weapon system turrets or shield emitters. Engineering is still conducting their survey to confirm. Otherwise, all systems are still in the green. Once we complete our turn, we are ready to C-Jump. Range 99.3 light years and stable.”

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that luck isn’t a real thing,” Prescott muttered. “Ensign Fisher, how long until you have us in a position to C-Jump back?”

“Three seven seconds, sir.”

“Excellent. Lieutenant Lau, please continue with your battle damage assessment … but be quick about it, please.”

“Aye, sir. You were asking if Lieutenant Commander Schmidt’s point location attack caused any damage. I’d have to say yes, but in an area that probably didn’t have too much of an effect on their sublight engine nozzles or shield emitters. The significant lesson learned is that putting enough energy in one spot at one time appears to overload their shielding to some degree. So when we go after Charlie 4, I think we should allow the AI to choose the weakest shield location again, but this time have it correspond with one of her engine nozzles.”

“So we allow the AI to open a hole with the energy weapons and then thread the needle with the railguns …”

“Yes, sir. I also think we should try mixing in some fragmentation rounds with the penetrators. I don’t have a computer model for anything like this situation, but I’m hoping we might get some kind of a rebound effect between the shields and the hull.”

“We might at that. Nice job, you two. Set it up quickly and let’s get this done. Keep in mind that Admiral Patterson warned us that they might be expecting reinforcements. If that’s the case, time is most definitely
not
on our side. Lieutenant Dubashi, what’s the comm delay back to our fighters from here?”

At the Communications console, Dubashi quickly executed an NRD network latency query, which, in addition to a great deal of additional information regarding the status of the network in general, provided a readout of the comm delay from
Theseus’
current position to the nearest ten Fleet assets.

“Only about seven seconds, Captain. Our current location, as well as that of the Badger flights, are each only about one million kilometers from the nearest comm beacon.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Alright, Ensign Fisher, Charlie 4’s position as currently displayed on the tactical plot is being relayed from our fighters, so it’s delayed by about seven seconds. Keep in mind that she is not equipped with supplemental aft shields like the
Baldev
. As you can see, she is still maneuvering and I think we can safely assume that she will continue to do so in order to prevent another C-Drive-equipped missile attack on her stern. That means it’s up to us to either put a stop to her maneuvering or take her out completely, so I need you to C-Jump us as close as you can without putting us in danger of transitioning inside her hull. Once we arrive, close with her as quickly as possible, match her maneuvers turn for turn, and give Tactical a chance to execute their attack. Make sense?”

“Yes, sir. I think I just heard you say that you want me to dogfight that cruiser.”

“Well …” Prescott chuckled, realizing that there was quite a bit of truth in the young ensign’s statement, “yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I want you to do. Just keep in mind that she will be hammering away at us with her aft weapons banks, and most likely Bravo 1 will open up on us again as well. Do your best to avoid hits that might get past our shields — although I’m sure that’s going to be pretty tough once we’re behind the target. I’m also pretty confident that Bravo 1 will prevent us from C-Jumping again, so be prepared to make a run for it, just like last time.”

“Aye, sir. Got it.”

“Anyone else have any questions on what we’re doing?” Prescott asked. Hearing nothing, he continued, “Dubashi, send our fighters a time-indexed warning that we will be C-Jumping in two zero seconds on your mark, then give the Helm console a countdown timer.”

“Aye, sir,” she replied, entering the required commands before transmitting the message. “Mark … message transmitted. C-Jump in one eight seconds and counting.”

“Everyone take a deep breath … stay relaxed and focused. We’ve done just fine so far, but it’s up to us to finish this fight,” Prescott said as calmly as he could manage.

“First and best, sir,” Dubashi replied nervously.

“Here we go again, folks,” Fisher said. “C-Jumping in 3 … 2 … 1 …”

Chapter 6

SCS Gunov, Location Crossbow

(5.93x10
11
km from Location Dagger)

“Report!” Commodore Sarafi barked as he emerged from his ready room.

“A single ship has transitioned from hyperspace, Commodore,” his tactical officer responded. “Range to the target is just over six hundred thousand kilometers. She is slightly larger than the
Gunov
at six hundred twenty-five meters in length and appears to be heavily armed — beam emitters, kinetics, and vertical missile launch cells are all in evidence. Thus far, however, we have detected no shields in use. The fire control AI cannot identify the specific vessel type, but has classified her as ‘probable Terran’ in origin based on a number of similarities to their small scout vessels. Per the most recent rules of engagement for the secondary rally point, the battlespace defense system has not opened fire since it was unable to make a definitive hostile identification. Shall we authorize the system to engage, sir?”

Sarafi’s eyes had remained fixed on the light-amplified and thermally enhanced image of the Terran warship as he made his way to his command chair. The vessel was clearly of the same class as the one he had been observing for some time back at the original rally point, and he briefly entertained the thought that it might be the exact same ship. But no, that could not possibly be the case, could it? The data stream provided by the remote surveillance drones was delayed by less than thirty seconds before reaching the display screen in his ready room. This was clearly a different ship, but the idea of the Terrans possessing a significant number of such vessels was a troubling prospect indeed. These were powerful, advanced warships — easily more than a match for older Sajeth Collective cruisers or perhaps even a
Rusalov
-class battleship. How many of these did the Terrans have at their disposal? Two? Ten? Were there other, even more powerful ships that his forces had not yet encountered?

“Make no mistake, they are almost certainly equipped with shielding of some sort. Have they hailed us?” he asked his communications officer without taking his eyes off the view screen.

“No, sir.”

“Are they closing on our position?”

“No, sir,” his tactical officer responded once again. “They are maneuvering to some degree, but their range has remained steady since they arrived.”

“Hmm. Well, at this point, we have given them more than enough time to perform a thorough reconnaissance of our forces, if that was their intent,” Sarafi remarked, half to himself. “Comm, go ahead and try hailing them. Perhaps having witnessed the extent to which their forces are outnumbered, their captain will be ready to discuss terms.”

“Aye, sir. Hailing.”

After a brief pause during which the two vessels’ AIs synchronized for real-time translation services, the face of a surprisingly confident-looking Terran male appeared on the
Gunov’s
view screen.

“I am Commodore Naveen Sarafi of the Sajeth Collective flagship
Gunov
. With whom do I have the honor of speaking?”

“This is Captain Bruce Abrams of the starship TFS
Karna,
here on behalf of Terran Fleet Command.” Like Prescott, Abrams had been uncomfortable having his crews address him as “commodore” during his independent command and privately thought the title both unnecessary and pretentious. “
Commodore
, I am afraid I have the unpleasant duty of informing you that the presence of your warships in such close proximity to the Sol System is seen as an act of aggression by our people. We have recently established diplomatic relations with the Sajeth Collective and have every reason to believe that our worlds will enjoy a long and prosperous friendship. I am sure you understand, however, that the space in the immediate vicinity of our homeworld is sovereign Terran territory. In the interest of our security and yours, we ask that you withdraw your forces immediately.”

“My sympathies, Captain. It is an unpleasant errand indeed on which your vessel was dispatched. Unfortunately, my orders are even less agreeable. I suspect you already know why we are here, do you not? It is our wish to avoid unnecessary violence, however, and I am optimistic that we can do so if you and whatever other forces you represent will agree to stand down.”

“I do have a pretty good idea why you are here, Commodore Sarafi, so I am not sure I am ready to accept your assertion that you would like to avoid unnecessary violence just yet. I implore you to take advantage of this opportunity to affirm and strengthen our new relationship. It is within your power to make Humanity a permanent ally today, sir, rather than run the risk of creating a dangerous enemy.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would like that of all things, Captain Abrams. Regrettably, that decision has already been made and it is beyond my power to countermand it at this point. Now — please — you are hopelessly outnumbered. Allow your vessel to be taken peaceably and no harm shall come to your crew.”

Abrams sighed audibly, looking down for a moment as if considering Commodore Sarafi’s offer. Seeming to come to a decision that, like his adversary’s, was largely made by others well in advance of today’s meeting, he looked up and regarded the Wek officer through narrowed eyes. “It is true, sir, that we are outnumbered, but I think you will find that we are far from hopeless.” With that, Abrams looked off to the side and nodded to an unseen member of his crew.

“Multiple contacts!” Sarafi’s tactical officer growled as eight separate two-ship formations of
Theseus
-class destroyers transitioned from hyperspace at locations around the perimeter of the Resistance task force. “A total of seventeen warships, Commodore … all with a configuration similar to the original contact.”

Sarafi paused, allowing his forces precious seconds to prepare for a confrontation with the Terran vessels.
“Well
, Captain,” he began again with a calculating smile on his face, “I suppose now I am obligated to ask you to state your intentions. Surely, we are both reasonable and clever enough to come up with a resolution that does not require the senseless deaths of thousands of our people.”

“That depends entirely on you at this point, Commodore. I am authorized to allow you to withdraw your forces. Your ships will be tracked until they have reached a distance of at least twenty-five light years from the Sol system. Beyond that, we will attempt to pursue a diplomatic solution to the current situation via the Sajeth Collective Governing Council.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I am authorized to cause the senseless deaths of thousands of your people,” Abrams replied, mirroring Sarafi’s smile. “But I sincerely hope that you will choose the former. I am sure you understand that we cannot allow —”

With a quick gesture to his communications officer, Sarafi terminated the tedious and clearly pointless conversation with the petulant Terran captain. Here was a situation that was truly as unfortunate as it was unexpected. There was plenty of evidence at this point that the Humans had fielded far more formidable forces than originally expected — in numbers, speed, and firepower. That being the case, perhaps it was reasonable to assume that they had sent every available vessel out to meet the Resistance threat once the location of their task force had been discovered. Keeping ships in reserve to defend the planet from attack certainly made sense if there were sufficient ships available to do so. What might a Terran admiral do, however, if he were presented with an opportunity to decisively engage the enemy, but had only twenty or so ships at his disposal? Sarafi felt sure that he knew what
he
would do in that situation, but thus far, the Humans had proven both resourceful and unpredictable, had they not?

And what did this development portend for the attack on Terra itself? The location of his task force’s rally point had been largely dictated by the capabilities (or lack thereof) of the older ships under his command. At this distance, even the most modern Sajeth Collective ships like the
Gunov
were still a full day’s travel from the planet. Even if he chose not to face the Human vessels here, and instead departed immediately for Terra, he had every reason to believe that these same enemy warships would be waiting for him when he arrived. No, under the circumstances, he had no choice but to destroy the Human ships here and now, then press on with the remainder of his mission with whatever forces he had remaining after the battle. Worst case, the
Gunov
herself was fully capable of completing the planetary attack alone — although doing so was an option Sarafi hoped to avoid, if possible.

“Sir, we are detecting multiple missile launches in progress from all of the Human vessels,” Sarafi’s tactical officer reported. “The fire control AIs from our two battlespace defense cruisers are now tracking nearly three hundred inbound missiles!”

“Understood. Comm, send from Flag to all vessels as follows: ‘Engage and destroy all Terran vessels. Coordinate attacks per battlespace defense AI to avoid inadvertently targeting friendly forces.’”

“Aye, Commodore.”

“The Human vessels have transitioned to hyperspace, sir,” Tactical reported.

“Yes, that appears to be a favored tactic of theirs,” he scoffed. “They will not have gone far. We need to take advantage of this time to intercept those missiles.”

“Aye, sir, the BD system has already developed firing solutions for all two hundred seventy-two enemy missiles utilizing beam and kinetic weapons from twenty of our vessels. They are relatively slow missiles, sir. The probability of intercept is ninety-four percent or greater for all inbound ordinance,” the tactical officer reported with a triumphant tone in his voice. “In fact, they are so slow that the system is pausing to all allow the missiles to reach optimal kill range.”

In a terrifying flash of situational awareness, Naveen Sarafi realized what he had missed while watching the Human ships at the original rally point so easily disable the
Babayev
, a massive and heavily shielded
Shopak
-class cruiser. “Tactical, override the BD system and order all ships to open fire now!” he roared. “Flag to all vessels, emergency, break to starboard, break to starboard, break to starboard!”

At an average distance of just over four hundred thousand kilometers from their intended targets, seventeen individual groups composed of sixteen HB-7c missiles each reached their predetermined velocity setpoints, engaged their miniaturized C-Drives, and transitioned to hyperspace.

It took mere seconds for all twenty-six Resistance ships to respond to the commodore’s order to take emergency evasive action. In an impressive display of Sajeth Collective command and control capabilities, each vessel rapidly increased power while immediately beginning a turn to the right of their previous course. Simultaneously, each vessel tasked with engaging one or more of the inbound missiles opened fire with all weapons that currently had a clear line of sight to their targets. Unfortunately, by the time the first, orange-tinted bolts of energy arrived at their projected points of impact, they passed harmlessly through the empty space that should have contained Terran missiles.

As fate and timing would have it, there were precisely the same number of cruisers present in the Resistance task force at the moment as there were Human destroyers available to target them. Fifteen of these were of the original
Shopak
-class design, while the remaining two were the critical
Keturah
-class BD cruisers — currently tasked with coordinating the task force’s efforts to defend against the Terran intruders.

The last thought that ran through Commodore Sarafi’s mind before the Human missiles found their targets was that he had managed to well and truly succeed in accomplishing at least part of the mission envisioned by the damnable politicians.

TFS Theseus, Location Dagger

(3.3 light years from Earth)

“Transition complete, Captain. Range to Charlie 4, two hundred kilometers … adjusting course and speed to park us on her six,” Ensign Fisher reported from the Helm console as the still-maneuvering enemy cruiser appeared as a small dot that rapidly expanded to fill much of the bridge view screen.

“Alright, Tactical, as soon as Fisher has you in position, execute your attack. I don’t have to tell you that the quicker we can take her out of action, the better,” Prescott said.

As if either officer manning the Tactical console needed further convincing on this point, the noise level on
Theseus’
bridge rose sharply as a number of events occurred simultaneously. The first sound they heard was a series of urgent-sounding chirps from the Helm console indicating that the ship had once again been targeted by the
Baldev’s
gravitic beam.

“Bravo 1 has acquired us with her grav beam, sir,” Fisher reported immediately. “Hyperspace transitions unavailable.”

“Thank you, Ensign. That’s unfortunate, but not unexpected. Stay with your target,” Prescott replied evenly.

Next came the now all-to-familiar cacophony of sounds associated with incoming energy weapons fire — first from the aft weapons banks of their chase, then followed shortly thereafter by Bravo 1. Once more,
Theseus’
reactors responded immediately, providing the vast amounts of power required to handle the steadily increasing number of shield intercept events occurring all around her hull.