TFS Navajo: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 3 (4 page)

“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 elevator 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 - 1.5x10
6
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

(5.93x10
11
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. Although, 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.

From a practical standpoint, the decision to share certain details of the system’s capabilities was his alone to make. The mission to the Sol system had been put together so quickly that the new surveillance drones did not yet allow for continuous oversight of his activities by his masters on the Governing Council. Yet as isolating and problematic as it was for him to be the only member of his task force with access to the drones’ data, Sarafi admitted to himself that it was a bit intoxicating to be the only officer possessed of what felt like a nearly omnipotent view of his battlespace. At the relatively short distance of 22.9 light days, the
Gunov
had reestablished contact with the surveillance drones at the original rally point in less than an hour. Since then, he had simply watched and waited. In the interim, two additional
Rusalov
-class battleships had arrived and been forwarded on to the secondary rally point without incident. The longer he had waited, however, the more he had begun to wonder whether the loathsome Commander Miah had been correct. Perhaps the Humans were either unwilling — or even unable — to send additional ships to investigate the loss of their scout vessels. If that were indeed the case, his move to the secondary rally point had been an unnecessary precaution.