Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive Read online

  Perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of the entire facility was the double security fence surrounding it. Similar to what might be installed around a sensitive military facility or even a high-security prison, the two, four-meter-high fences were topped with wicked-looking razor wire and covered with a black polyethylene mesh for privacy. Closed circuit security cameras were mounted at various locations — both atop the fences and within the compound proper. Less obvious, but still detectable to the trained eye, were the host of thermal cameras, fence sensors, radar, and even seismic sensors arrayed around the compound. Just in case all of these were insufficient to deter trespassers, signs were posted conspicuously around the site in both Spanish and English warning (falsely) that the CSAU had authorized the use of deadly force against anyone foolish enough to attempt unauthorized entry.

  What the prime minister of the Central and South American Union had actually authorized (under heavy pressure from the Leadership Council) was the first military operation Terran Fleet Command had ever undertaken against a terrestrial target. At precisely 0300 local time, the entire region was lit by a single, gigantic flash of light as TFS Karna transitioned inside the atmosphere at just over two thousand meters above the compound. The destroyer’s arrival instantaneously displaced over twenty million cubic meters of air, creating a powerful shockwave that slammed into the ground immediately beneath the ship six seconds later, then traveled outward in all directions at just under the speed of sound. None of the Crullcorp buildings were equipped with windows, and seemed to handle the passing shockwave with little to no damage. Such was not the case for the three aircraft sitting on the facility’s flight line, however. Even though their front windscreens and passenger windows were reinforced for the heavy loads associated with atmospheric flight, most were either completely destroyed or heavily damaged by the warship’s earth-shattering transition.

  Like the Hindu warrior king of the Mahabharata for which the ship was named, Karna’s arrival over the field of battle was an awe-inspiring omen of doom for any enemy who might be foolish enough to oppose her.

  TFS Karna, Patagonian Desert

  (0300 local - 55 km northwest of Las Heras, Argentina)

  “Transition complete, Captain,” the helm officer reported. “All systems in the green. The drop zone is directly beneath the ship and we are stabilized in a two-thousand-meter hover. Gravitic fields have been reduced to minimum extension and are clear of the flight deck.”

  “Very well. Green deck,” Captain Bruce Abrams said calmly.

  “Aye, sir. Executing,” the XO replied, entering commands at his touchscreen to relay the appropriate orders to both the flight deck and the four squads of Marines awaiting a go order inside their Gurkha assault shuttles. Although the Karna’s normal complement included a standard TFC platoon of forty-two enlisted troops and one officer, today’s operation involved a total of sixty-one Marines. Given that each was equipped with universal EVA combat armor, this force constituted significantly more firepower than Captain Abrams thought absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, the mission did involve a number of unknowns, including the disposition, strength, and composition of Crullcorp’s private security force. In addition, it was critical that the Sazoch’s payload module be quickly secured in an undamaged state — assuming, of course, that their intel was accurate and it was actually still here.

  Immediately after the go order was received, side and rear cargo doors opened on each of the heavily armed Gurkha assault shuttles — the four of which were currently taking up all available space on Karna’s aft flight apron. Less than twenty seconds later, each of the ASVs had disgorged its squad of Marines, then released the clamps holding it in place as its controlling AI prepared to follow the Marines to the target below. In rapid succession, all sixty-one Marines completed the short run to the edge of the flight apron and leapt silently into the night above their objective.

  “The Marine squads are away, Captain,” the XO reported. “The first zero four Hunters will be airborne in seven zero seconds.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Abrams replied as video feeds from the Marine lieutenant’s EVA suit and two of the Gurkhas appeared on the bridge view screen next to a high-resolution overhead view of the surrounding area. “Tactical, anything in the area we need to be concerned about?”

  “Not really, sir. As expected, the CSAU has some fighters airborne, but they’re holding just off the east coast — nearly two hundred kilometers away. There’s also some civilian air traffic, but nothing that’s a factor at the moment.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Please let me know immediately if anything changes.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Abrams stared at the bridge view screen, captivated by the light-amplified view of the Crullcorp compound from the perspective of the Marine lieutenant’s helmet-mounted optical sensor. Having completed several traditional parachute-based jumps himself, he subconsciously commanded his knees to bend and leg muscles to relax in preparation for a hard landing as the ground rushed up from below at an impossibly fast rate. This was the first time Abrams had witnessed a drop using the latest EVA suits, and although he knew that what he was seeing was perfectly normal, it truly looked as if it would be impossible for the Marines’ suits to arrest their rapid descents before the entire platoon slammed into the desert floor below.

  Fortunately for their occupants, each suit’s AI had the situation well in hand, having calculated their approach to the target — with an accuracy measured in milliseconds — well before any member of the platoon had stepped off the Karna’s aft flight apron. As Abrams involuntarily squinted his eyes in anticipation of the crushing impact he knew must occur at any time, the lieutenant’s EVA suit engaged its thrusters at maximum power and executed a graceful, silent touchdown near the entrance to the compound’s hangar. Including the time required to accelerate to their terminal velocity as well as a rapid Cannae thruster deceleration immediately before impact, it had taken the entire reinforced platoon of TFC Marines less than a minute to reach their designated starting positions and begin the next phase of their mission.

  ***

  First Lieutenant Tagan Locke touched down in a run, quickly taking cover in an alcove sheltering a small side entrance to the largest building in the compound. Her platoon had rehearsed every facet of this operation numerous times, simulating problem areas time and again until they had them down cold. In fact, she had hoped that things would progress so smoothly that there would be little if any need for verbal communications over their tactical comm channel — a feat which, she knew, the old-timers always considered a hallmark of a well-executed mission. In spite of the seemingly endless list of contingencies they had practiced, however, she was in no way prepared for what her suit’s sensors were currently projecting into her field of view.

  So much for comm discipline … hell, so much for the plan in general, Locke thought wryly, taking a few extra moments to scan the entire area. She noted with at least some level of satisfaction that all of her people were exactly where they were supposed to be. Their OPORD now called for simultaneous breaches of some or all of the facility’s buildings, depending on what they found in terms of opposing forces. The problem was, as far as she could tell at the moment, there were no opposing forces.

  “Top, Locke. Confirm negative contact,” she finally called over the tactical comm.

  “Top here. Negative contact confirmed,” her platoon sergeant answered immediately.

  “Confirm negative ECM detected,” she added for good measure. She knew that it was highly unlikely that her entire platoon, four Gurkha ASVs, and the Karna itself could all have their entire array of sensors defeated by any known electronic countermeasures, particularly at such short range. Then again, it seemed highly unlikely, based on the intel at least, that this facility would be unoccupied in spite of housing the deadliest weapon of mass destruction Humanity had ever encountered.

  “Intrusion detection sensors only, Lieutenant,” the master
sergeant replied again. “No active electronic countermeasures detected.”

  “I don’t like it, Top. Stand by,” she said, ordering every member of her platoon to hold their positions with a quick command via her suit’s neural interface.

  “Top acknowledged.”

  This can’t be right, she thought. Everything else is exactly as expected.

  “Bridge, Locke.”

  On Karna’s bridge, Abrams had been wondering how long it would take the young lieutenant to check in, and he was gratified to see that she did not hesitate to seek guidance when required. “I got it,” he said, preempting his comm officer’s response. “Locke, Karna-Actual. Looks like there’s no one home, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s very odd that we’ve got a heavy lift aircraft as well as Mrs. Crull’s executive transport sitting here on the ramp. So, they’re either very well hidden or they all evacuated by some other means. Either way, it looks like they knew we were coming.”

  “They’ve consistently had as good or better intel than we have lately, so it’s certainly possible. What do you recommend, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, if there is anyone still here, they’re not going anywhere without our knowing about it, so I’d like to withdraw to a safe distance and let the droids handle the breaches. Depending on what we find, we’ll reassess the threat and go from there. If everything looks clear, we’ll move back in to conduct a more thorough search.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Please proceed,” Abrams replied.

  “Aye, sir. Locke out.”

  Without a moment’s additional delay, Locke sent an order for all of her Marines to fall back to a set of pre-defined positions at what she hoped was a safe distance, then stepped out of the alcove and immediately arced up and away from the hangar in the direction of the closest Gurkha ASV.

  ***

  Just under twenty minutes later, live video from four separate K-25 AMDs — short for autonomous multipurpose droids — was being watched intently by TFS Karna’s bridge crew. Although still a far cry in many ways from their classic sci-fi counterparts, the units were nonetheless quite effective at a wide variety of mission types, particularly those situations deemed unnecessarily dangerous for Human beings. Roughly spherical in shape and with a diameter of just under one meter, the droids were managed by a potent onboard AI, while at the same time having the capability to interface in real-time with other, more potent systems in the area — in this case the Karna itself.

  Just as had been the case with the Marines’ EVA suits, this was the first time Captain Abrams had been personally involved with a live operational use of an AMD, and, understandably, his attention was once again riveted to the bridge view screen. One of the first things he noticed was the fact that there was almost no noticeable difference between the droid-provided video feed versus that supplied by one of the Marine’s EVA suits. Essentially the same suite of sensors was in use, all of which were being employed to update the overhead tactical plot displayed in an adjacent window on the view screen. Even the height of the camera was similar to that of a Human operator since the AMDs typically hovered using a combination of gravitic emitters and Cannae thrusters at an altitude that placed their optical sensor roughly two meters above the ground.

  As the four droids approached their designated entry points, the illusion that they had been watching anything other than an AMD-provided feed was quickly shattered as each unit extended a sturdy robotic arm with a decidedly Human-looking hand into the camera’s field of view. With surprising dexterity and speed, the arm placed five dots of a clear liquid in a line down the hinged side of each door. Although it was not obvious in the video feed, Abrams was aware that an ultra-fine wire was being embedded within each of the dots, leading ultimately to a small, remotely-triggered detonator. As each AMD concluded its work in almost perfect unison and began to back slowly away, he smiled to himself, wondering if he was about to witness a rather basic oversight.

  “Locke, Karna-Actual,” he said aloud — the ship’s AI immediately recognizing the captain’s desire to communicate with the Marine lieutenant and routing his call accordingly.

  “Karna-Actual, go for Locke.”

  “Uh,” Abrams began, trying to think of a way he could communicate his intentions without causing too much of a distraction for the young officer during her first significant operation. “Sorry for the interruption, Lieutenant, and I may have missed it, but did the drones confirm that any of these doors are actually locked before they go ahead and blow them off the hinges?”

  There was a brief pause on the tactical comm channel, during which, he correctly assumed, Locke was hurriedly ordering a temporary hold on all four door breachings. “No, sir, they didn’t, and I was actually thinking the same thing. They are designed to operate autonomously, and once we order them to execute a breach, the AI doesn’t ask for further Human input unless we specifically order it to do so. It’s a safe bet that they are playing the mathematical odds, though, and they probably don’t think that attempting to open the doors manually will do anything to improve the chance of successfully completing the mission.”

  “And what do you think, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, sir,” she replied, vaguely amused by the entire situation, “at this point, I don’t think it will hurt to try opening the doors. If there’s anyone here, they obviously have some very sophisticated ECM gear that is somehow masking their presence from our sensors —”

  “And they clearly know that we are here.”

  “That’s affirmative, sir, we were pretty hard to miss.”

  “Right, so that being the case, please ask the AI to humor us on this one and proceed when ready. If any of the doors open, I’d recommend letting the drone do a brief security sweep before it does anything else. You can always blow the remaining doors whenever you’re ready. You’re doing fine, Lieutenant. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way from here on in.”

  “Aye, sir, thank you … I mean, not a problem, sir. Locke out.”

  Moments later, all four AMDs once again slowly approached their respective doors, extended their robotic arms, and attempted to actuate the lever-style door handles. Not surprisingly, the doors of the three smaller buildings were locked. At the largest of the four structures, however, the handle rotated freely, allowing the door to swing slowly open.

  On Karna’s bridge, Abrams leaned forward in his seat with anticipation as his XO enlarged the window displaying the now-open doorway. Inside, the AMD’s optical sensor revealed a well-lit hallway lined with several doors. Beyond, the corridor opened into what was probably the hangar area itself. The droid paused, continually scanning the area for any indication that the building was either occupied or booby-trapped. Still finding nothing, it ignored the doors on either side and made its way to the end of the hallway. As it slowly emerged into the open hangar bay, it was immediately apparent that the area to the left was nothing more than a small kitchen/break area with several tables and two restrooms along the outside wall of the building. Unfinished food and drinks could be seen on two of the tables, while on the kitchen counter, a pot of hot coffee sat untouched.

  Turning its attention to the hangar bay — which, upon closer inspection, was divided into two separate areas — the droid revealed the presence of another executive transport aircraft parked near the rear of the building with all of its doors and access hatches standing open. Near the building’s huge sliding doors sat three fighter aircraft, apparently in the process of being armed and prepared for launch. Air-to-air missiles had already been loaded onto external weapons pylons aboard two of the three ships. Beneath the third, a lift truck sat with another missile precariously balanced as if the maintenance crew had simply walked away in the middle of the loadout.

  As the AMD moved forward once again, it became clear that the section of the hangar bay farthest from where it had entered was entirely enclosed within a massive inflatable structure. At its center sat what appeared to be an airlock/decontamination system simi
lar to those used on TFC ships. It was here that the droid’s AI gave the first indication that something was amiss.

  “Bridge, Locke,” the lieutenant called once again.

  “Locke, Karna-Actual. Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir, under the circumstances, I’d like to keep you live on the tactical comm channel, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” Abrams replied, inwardly happy that she had called back when she did. Even though he knew Locke was an outstanding young officer, the ultra-sensitive nature of this mission compelled him to take a much more hands-on approach than usual. “Are you seeing a problem?”

  “Yes, sir. The AMD in the hangar just alerted on traces of blood around the entrance to the airlock you see in the video feed. Ultimately, we may have to send it inside to get a clear view of what’s going on. For now, however, its AI has successfully interfaced with the inflatable containment unit. On the plus side, it looks like we have found the payload module. They have it nested four layers deep like a Russian Matryoshka doll. So far, it appears that everything is functioning properly — environmentals, seals … everything looks intact. Stand by one, sir,” she said, pausing as she issued a flurry of commands to the AMD. “Okay, you should be receiving multiple video feeds now from inside the containment unit itself.”

  Abrams glanced at his comm officer, who immediately opened a total of six additional windows on the bridge view screen to display all of the available video feeds — one of which caught his attention immediately. “Lieutenant Locke, can we get a better look at what we’re seeing on feed four?”

  “Yes, sir, I see it too.”

  Within seconds, the camera providing the video feed in question panned to the right, then zoomed slightly in an effort to provide a better view of the grisly scene inside the outer inflatable structure. Piled neatly against the far wall like so much cord wood was a stack of at least fifty body bags. Perched atop the pile, however, was a single, obviously female body that had been purposely left uncovered. Attached to her clothing just above the waist was a single, blood-smeared sheet of paper inscribed with what appeared to be a handwritten message. Without further prompting, Lieutenant Locke zoomed and refocused the camera again in an effort to make out the text. The note was in Spanish, written in a surprisingly steady, deliberate hand in spite of the gruesome scene within the room: