TFS Navajo: The Terran Fleet Command Saga – Book 3 (28 page)

“Good morning, Captain … Commander. It is a pleasure to see you both,” he said, shaking each of their hands vigorously. “It is good to see you all,” he repeated, raising his deep, powerful voice to address the entire bridge. “Please, as you were.”

“I must say you’re looking remarkably well, sir,” Prescott said, looking him over while wearing an expression of amazement that clearly pleased the Wek admiral. It immediately occurred to Prescott that the last time he had seen Naftur looking so energized had been during the heat of combat at the Battle of Gliese 667.

“Hah!” Naftur laughed aloud with a deep, satisfied rumble from inside his massive chest. “You are too kind, young Captain. I do feel quite well, all things considered. I can assure you, however, that in spite of the exemplary care I have received, my body does not hesitate to remind me of my injuries if I venture to move too quickly. The doctors say that most of this will pass within a week, and I should then be allowed to return to more strenuous physical activities.”

“That’s fantastic, sir,” Reynolds said, equally astonished by Naftur’s imposing presence so soon after the shooting. “We’re all very pleased to see you up and around, but I’m sure the doctors have told you to take it easy and not overdo it,” she said, ushering him to a vacant command chair.

“Oh, of course,” he sighed, taking his seat, “as they are wont to do. As I am sure you are aware, Doctors Chen and Turlaka are formidable indeed. Failing to follow their instructions is not a course of action I would recommend. Now,” he continued, his brow furrowing as his piercing eyes took on a grim, purposeful expression, “may I impose on the two of you for a brief update? I have read through the AI’s log entries and believe I have a reasonable sense of what has transpired, but it grieves me to know that I have been unable to offer much in the way of assistance thus far.”

“On the contrary, sir … there,” Prescott replied, nodding to a magnified image of the
Hadeon
on the view screen, “lies proof of your invaluable contributions thus far. Your conversation with Commander Takkar persuaded his crew to withdraw from the Resistance task force and assist us during our battle with the
Baldev
. It is unlikely we would have been able to prevail without their — and your — help.”

“Be that as it may, I keenly feel the losses suffered thus far on both sides. I also cannot help but wonder whether I might have been able to convince Captain Yagani to stand down as well. The destruction of the
Baldev
and the
Keturah
alone represent the loss of nearly twelve and a half thousand souls … all of them surrendered needlessly to the unchecked power of an insidious lie.” Naftur breathed in deeply, attempting to remain calm in spite of the smoldering rage that at times threatened to overcome his normally disciplined mind.

“Together, my friends,” Naftur continued, “we shall protect your world from Commodore Sarafi’s forces. Once that danger has passed, both he and all of those in positions of power who were responsible for bringing about this so-called ‘movement’ will answer for their crimes. You must know, however, that I bear some responsibility in allowing all of this to transpire. I allowed myself the indulgence of believing that my military career represented the highest and best form of service that I could offer the Wek people. I arrogantly ignored traditional leadership obligations, somehow convincing myself that they were outdated, primitive relics with no relevance in a ‘modern’ space-faring society. Worst of all, I recognized the fundamental lack of morality that had become rampant within the Sajeth Collective, but did nothing to stop it. There is little doubt in my mind that my lack of action played a significant role in bringing us to where we are today.”

“Sir,” Reynolds began after a long pause, “we are largely unaware of the details of your military service, let alone the other leadership obligations you mention, but from what we do know, you have dedicated your entire life to honorably serving your people. How much responsibility or blame can be reasonably attributed to a single person for corruption and misdeeds on such a grand scale? You didn’t personally participate in the Resistance movement, so how can you consider any of what they have done to be your fault?”

“Ah, I can answer that question with the words of a gifted Human statesman from another age: ‘
… when bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.
’”

“That’s Burke, correct?” Prescott asked.

“Edmund Burke, yes indeed,” Naftur said. “And his words are as true on Graca today as they were on eighteenth century Earth. Unfortunately, the ‘good men’ to whom he was referring have all too often allowed ourselves to become convinced either that evil does not truly exist, or — even worse — in the moral equivalence of those who justify evil deeds in pursuit of a ‘just’ outcome. I give the two of you my most solemn word that I will never again fail to meet my obligations along those lines. If they will still hear it, I will offer the same promise to the Wek people at my first opportunity.”

“Well said, sir,” Prescott replied, “and for what it’s worth, I feel confident that they will support you in whatever role you envision for yourself going forward — just as we do.”

“Thank you, Captain Prescott. Both of you do me great honor with your kind words, but enough with all of this lofty rhetoric for now,” Naftur said with the hint of a smile returning to his face. “Back to more pressing matters, I could not help but notice the information on your display screen. I still have much to learn regarding your language and symbology, but I believe I understand the fundamentals well enough. Is this data current?”

“If the Guardian spacecraft is to be believed, yes, it is,” Prescott said.
That sure didn’t take him long,
he thought, both pleased and a little surprised at the return of the admiral’s keen powers of observation so soon after his near-fatal injuries.

“Once again, I am astounded by your world’s technological progress. I have never seen any means of tracking vessels traveling in hyperspace that approaches this level of fidelity.”

“Well, as much as we would like to take credit for developing this technology, it doesn’t really belong to us … not yet anyway,” Reynolds replied. “The Guardian is simply providing us with access to the data while the Earth is under threat of attack. As you can see, the eight remaining ships from the secondary rally point as well as the two
Baldev
-class battleships we encountered here at Location Dagger will arrive simultaneously in just under eight hours. We assume that the point where their projected course lines meet is their approximate destination. If that is the case, they will transition at 1125Z at a distance of just over seven million kilometers from Earth.”

Naftur stared at the display in silence for some time before speaking again. “Regardless of how you gained access, I believe this information may prove decisive in the coming confrontation.”

“That is certainly our hope,” Prescott replied. “One item of concern we wanted to bring to your attention, however, is the absence of the
Gresav
. She should have arrived here at Location Willow by now, but she has never appeared on this display, nor have we heard from Captain Jelani.”

“
That
, my friends, is very good news,” Naftur replied with a satisfied smile.

“You’re not surprised by this at all, are you?” Reynolds asked, eying him suspiciously.

“Surprised? No, I do not believe that is the word I would use. Unfortunately, where the Pelaran Guardian is concerned, we can never be certain of its capabilities without putting our people at great risk. When my small squadron arrived in the Sol system, for example, we knew there was a very real possibility that we would come under attack at some point. Although we went to great lengths to ensure Ambassador Turlaka’s survival in a worst-case scenario, under no circumstances did we expect that our squadron would be decimated within seconds of our arrival — with no warning and no possibility of escape.”

“And yet, the
Gresav
did manage to escape,” she pressed.

“Yes,” Naftur replied gravely, “and I was forced to watch helplessly as thousands died. The details of that story I will save for another time, Commander. We have become friends, and I sincerely hope that our two worlds will soon become allies. Even if that does happen, however, there will still most likely be
some
secrets that we choose not to share openly with one another. As I have mentioned before, one of the
Gresav’s
primary missions was to gather data on the effectiveness of several new technologies. She was equipped to test the effectiveness of various deceptive techniques using hyperdrive transition signatures, for example. She was also fitted with a number of low-observable technologies. Suffice it to say that, if successful, similarly equipped ships might ultimately be capable of executing a surprise attack against a Pelaran ship, hopefully destroying it before it has the opportunity to return fire.”

“So it sounds like the technologies worked pretty well,” Reynolds said with a raised eyebrow.

“The analysis will take some time, as you can imagine, but, as you said yourself, Commander Reynolds, the
Gresav
survived the Pelaran Guardian’s attack,” he said with something approaching a look of playful amusement on his face. “I would not, however, have expected to see her arrive here at Location Willow.”

“And why is that, sir? Those were the instructions we gave Captain Jelani when our two ships encountered the Guardian near Earth.”

“Yes,” Naftur replied, the corners of his mouth now turning upwards in a rather cunning grin, “but those were not, however, the instructions that
I
gave him.”

Chapter 19

TFS Navajo, Earth-Sun Lagrange Point 2

(0403 UTC - Combat Information Center - 1.5x10
6
km from Earth)

“Let me make sure I understand what Naftur is asking,” Admiral Patterson said wearily, struggling to process yet another demand on his already overtaxed attention. “He’s saying that the
Gresav
never left for Location Willow. Instead, it’s waiting nearby for his signal — most likely somewhere within an hour or so of Earth.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Davis responded, “that’s my understanding as well.”

“So he wants Prescott to give him a ride back into the system, where he will rendezvous with his ship. After that, he wants us to stay clear of the arriving Resistance warships and allow him one last chance to talk them out of attacking?”

“That’s about the size of it, Admiral,” Davis replied with a half-hearted smile.

“I guess a number of responses come to mind, but none that I would utter in polite company. Help me out here, Captain, does any part of that sound like a good idea to you at this point? Haven’t we already tried this approach and failed?”

“That was my first thought as well, sir, and it seems exceedingly more risky here than it was out at Location Dagger. But, if you will recall, Naftur really only got the opportunity to address the captain of one Resistance ship, the
Hadeon
, and she did ultimately stand down and assist
Theseus
in the battle against the
Baldev
. So from that perspective, he’s one for one so far.”

“So you’re saying we should actually consider giving him another opportunity?” Patterson asked, unconvinced.

“Here’s the thing. If we believe what Naftur has told us about their naval doctrine — and assuming, of course, that they follow it — their battleships are unlikely to begin a bombardment of the planet’s surface until all of our forces are out of their way. Sterilizing a planet is apparently a time-consuming process, and they seem to require the establishment of space superiority in the vicinity of their target before they will even attempt it.”

“Right, but that doesn’t seem particularly relevant in this case once you throw the Guardian spacecraft into the mix. Surely they don’t expect to be able to waltz in here and destroy
all
of our forces … the Guardian included.”

“That’s really my point. I don’t think they know what to expect any more than we do. The Guardian was largely noncommittal when you and Admiral Sexton contacted him, but it’s still difficult for me to imagine its doing nothing at all to help. The planetary bombardment scenario assumes that it will allow the Resistance ships to eliminate our forces in detail, and then sit idly by while they methodically destroy the Earth. Why would the Guardian do that after investing so much time grooming Humanity for membership in the Pelaran Alliance?”

“Unlikely perhaps, but then again why not? Hell, at this point, anything is possible, right?” Patterson said, shaking his head.

“Absolutely, and that’s why I think Commodore Sarafi will try to keep all his options open for as long as possible until he sees how things are going to play out. If the Guardian stays out of his way, I expect a traditional attack using the battleships’ heavy guns will be his first choice. As strange as it sounds, I think they might see an orbital bombardment as somehow being more ‘civilized’ than a biological attack.”

“So you believe the biological attack is something of a last resort then?”

“I don’t think they will lead with that option, no. But I obviously don’t have much data on which to base that opinion. If I’m right on this, however, giving Naftur a little time up front probably doesn’t introduce much in the way of additional risk. The truth is that Sarafi has far more options than we do. Once his forces arrive, our
only
choice is to destroy all of his ships, or at least remove them from the fight somehow. So if there is any chance that Naftur might be able to take a few of them off the table without the need for us to destroy them outright —”

“Alright, give Prescott the go ahead, but make sure Naftur understands that we are not changing our attack plans. He will have very little time to do whatever he can before we open fire. If any Resistance ships elect to withdraw, they need to make their intentions abundantly clear to our forces. At a minimum, they should turn away from the planet and all TFC vessels immediately — preferably transitioning to hyperspace and clearing the area altogether. The
Gresav
is the only Sajeth Collective vessel I intend to designate as a friendly unit. The rest will be subject to immediate attack for as long as they remain in system.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Oh, and tell Prescott that he is to take command of our reserve forces once he sends Admiral Naftur on his way.
Theseus
has taken a beating, so I would rather not put her back into the fight unless it’s absolutely necessary. He is to stand by at the reserve staging area designated by the Flag and await further orders. If all goes well, I should be able to give him at least one additional destroyer and a couple of frigates.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll tell him.”

“Admiral,” Ensign Fletcher called from her Communications console, “TFS
Koori
just checked in. They have completed their post-climb system checks and are reporting a ‘mission effective’ status.”

“Best news I’ve heard all morning. Thank you, Ensign. Tell them to move out to their designated position in the line and stand by for action.”

SCS Gunov

(1125 UTC - 7.3x10
6
km from Earth)

“Disengaging hyperdrive in 3 … 2 … 1 … mark,” the Wek officer at the Helm workstation reported as the display screen returned to a view of the local starfield. “Commodore, we have returned to normal space. Location confirmed, 7.3 million kilometers from Terra, all systems nominal.”

“We are receiving data from all nine of our ships, sir, including the
Zhelov
and
Serapion,
” the tactical officer reported.

“Excellent,” Sarafi replied with a satisfied smile. “Let us take a look at the Humans’ homeworld, please.”

“It is right … there,” Commander Freyda replied, highlighting the small, vaguely bluish white dot inside a flashing red square. From the
Gunov’s
arrival point, all of Earth features, even her vast oceans, blended smoothly into a single blur of light set against the inky blackness of space. The planet’s moon, barely visible at all just off to the left, appeared as little more than a white pinprick of light. “I am afraid it is not much to look at from here.”

“Magnify,” Sarafi ordered.

With a quick command at Freyda’s workstation, both the planet and her moon seemed to leap from the screen in vivid shades of light reflected from blue oceans, white clouds, and the greenish-brown land masses of the western hemisphere. From the
Gunov’s
position, both bodies appeared in a gibbous phase, with just over three-fourths of their disks illuminated by their distant star. To the right of the terminator inside the planet’s shadow, the yellowish-white lights of Human civilization were clearly visible.

“The pictures I have seen did not do it justice,” Freyda commented. “It is breathtakingly beautiful.”

“Multiple contacts,” the tactical officer reported. “As expected, there are quite a few of them, sir.”

“No need to call them all out, Lieutenant, just post the situation display on the starboard side of the screen please.”

“Aye, sir,” he replied as an overhead schematic of the battlespace appeared on the screen. “A couple of items to note, however … the closest warships are a group of four that the AI is classifying as heavy cruisers. They are spread along a line directly between our current position and the planet.”

“What? At what range?” Sarafi asked, incredulous.

“Just over five hundred thousand kilometers. We are most likely within range of their weapons already.”

“That is simply not possible,” he scoffed.

“It is if they had some means of tracking us in hyperspace,” Freyda stated flatly.

“I also have two small groups of destroyers just like the ones we encountered at the secondary rally point. They are standing off to either side of the cruisers.”

“Most likely the exact same ships, Lieutenant. Anything else?”

“Ten smaller vessels classified as frigates. Nothing else in range at the moment, sir.”

“Any sign of the Pelaran spacecraft?”

“No, sir, not yet.”

“Well,” Sarafi began, standing and raising his voice to address the entire bridge crew. “It looks as if they were expecting us … but as impressive as that may seem at first glance, it is of little consequence. We will make short work of the Human forces, accomplish our mission, and return home victorious. I am confident that each of you —”

“Attention all Wek vessels. Stand by for an Emergency Defense Message duly authorized by the Royal Dynastic Houses of Graca,” the
Gunov’s
AI interrupted in an urgent, commanding tone. In the center of the bridge display screen, a large window opened and immediately displayed a circle formed by a series of six different coats of arms. In the center of these, a larger family crest was adorned by a banner bearing text in an ancient Wek tongue with which no member of the bridge crew was familiar. At the bottom, however, was a smaller banner with a single word that every crewmember recognized immediately: “Naftur.”

“Comm!” Sarafi roared. “What is the meaning of this inane drivel?”

“Please forgive the intrusion, Commodore,” the comm officer replied apologetically. “It is from an external data stream that appears to have overridden all of our standard security protocols. Shall I attempt to terminate the feed?”

“Yes, of course! And if the other ships are receiving this as well, jam the signal immediately.”

“Sir, I do not think we will be able to terminate the stream,” Freyda said in a low voice.

“What? Nonsense, Commander, of course we will. Why would you think that?” Sarafi asked, clearly agitated at the unexpected turn of events.

“The introduction said that it was an EDM. I have heard rumors of such things since I first began my studies at university — hidden, so-called ‘back door’ code included in all Wek-designed AIs — but I honestly thought that it was all nothing more than idle talk … tech folklore, if you will.”

“Commander Freyda, I should not have to tell you that now is not the time to try my patience. Your point, please?”

“Yes, sir. As you know, during the period when Graca was considering membership in the Sajeth Collective, a great many Wek opposed it, fearing that we were giving up our independence and cultural identity in order to ally with other worlds — a few of which were even former enemies. In an effort to assert some degree of sovereignty, the dynastic houses originally insisted upon the ability to remotely control all Wek-constructed vessels in the event of an emergency.”

“Surely you are not implying that the Humans are going to somehow take control of our ships.”

“No, sir. In fact, the original proposal was overwhelmingly voted down for a number of obvious reasons. The legend persisted, however, that the royal houses still managed to force some concessions that allowed for certain ‘privileged’ access to all Wek-manufactured ships in case a time ever came when they were being used in a manner they deemed … unacceptable. One of these was supposedly the capability for a representative from one of the original seven dynastic houses to publicly address the crews of the ships. If that is indeed what this is, it is hard-coded into our systems, so we are unlikely to be able to shut it down.”

“Eton Ulto!” Sarafi swore under his breath as the potential implications of such an intrusion rushed through his mind. “So you are saying that whatever this is could be appearing at other locations aboard the
Gunov
as well as the other ships in our task force?”

“I am speculating, sir, but yes — potentially aboard every Wek ship within range of the signal — most likely on every screen where it can be displayed without posing an immediate danger to the safe operation of the ship.”

Before there was sufficient time to further investigate the source of the transmission, the EDM introductory screen was replaced by the face of a commanding Wek male. It was a face that practically every crewmember aboard all of the Resistance task force’s vessels recognized immediately, but very few had ever expected to see again.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began with a steely resolve evident in his voice, “I am Rugali Naftur, former First Admiral of the Sajeth Collective Fleet and Crown Prince of the Dynastic House of Naftur. Time is short, so I will come straight to the point. I just introduced myself as a
former
admiral because I have very recently come to realize that I can no longer in good conscience serve both Graca
and
the Sajeth Collective. The very existence of this so-called ‘Resistance’ movement — based entirely on lies and the disgraceful exploitation of the Wek people — has been a major factor in helping me arrive at this decision.