"By order of Spacefleet Command, you, Aaen, are hereby assigned to the USSC Voyager as the Right-Wing Sensors Officer." Aaen found himself in wide-eyed shock. "Please report to Starbase One on May 30, 2030, at 1500 hours with your class. You will be greeted, divided into your different crews, be given your uniforms, and then shown to your bridge station where you will be trained to function in your job position of assignment before receiving additional orders.
Good luck!
-Fleet Admiral Williamson, Commanding Officer, Starbase One."
Right-Wing Sensors Officer? Aaen thought, disappointed. He had researched the stations of all three ships over the last two days. The Right-Wing Sensors Officer—among a small handful of others—had minimal promotion prospect for command. There must have been some kind of mistake! He kept to himself, despite his disappointment, remaining seated upright and facing forward. That station assignment doesn't make any sense.
Mr. Shelco faced the class."Cadets, due to the urgency of the situation, and how pressed for time you are to respond, you will be launching today. Two transport shuttles will take you to Starbase One. Bring your pamphlets to ensure swift seating." he paused.
The intercom beeped.
"Office to Core-Six."
"Core-Six. Go ahead, Office." Mr. Shelco replied.
"Two transport shuttles have arrived to pick up your class for immediate launch. The transport shuttles are docked at docking ports one and two. Over."
"Acknowledged. Out."
The intercom beeped again, this time signaling disconnection of the line.
Mr. Shelco looked at the class. "Cadets, line up at the door." the class complied, almost in unison, turned right, and then formed a semi-organized line at the door of the class. Some of the class—like Aaen—were slightly jittery with excitement; others were shaking from anxiety. Aaen was eighth in line. "Lights off!" said Mr. Shelco.
The room went dark.
Mr. Shelco led them into the hallway, turned right, and then down a maze of corridors, right for a hundred feet, left for five, right again for fifty, another right for ten, left for fifteen, right for ten, then left for a hundred. The grounds looked like they had just been treated: the grass was freshly cut and neatly edged, the trees were swaying in the soft breeze with the American flag proudly fluttering at the top of its pole above that of the United Federation of Planets, and the state flag. Two long, yellow transport shuttles resembling bullet trains lined with closed transparent metal windows were resting on quad landing gear parallel to their lot assignments. Each transport, Aaen counted through the starboard cockpit window, piloted by a single talent.
Mr. Shelco stopped—the class mirrored his action. The pilot of the lead transport shuttle looked to her right at the class and then opened the transport's vertical entrance with a loud pneumatic hiss. The pilot stood up from the driver seat and then stepped down a trio metal staircase to meet him. They spoke for a few seconds. The conversation included the pilot nodding several times.
Mr. Shelco turned to face the class. "First half of the line to the lead transport." he pointed as he spoke. "Second half to the second transport. MOVE!"
Both transports filled from the rear of the cabin forward. Aaen found a seat on the left middle section of the lead transport's cabin—window seat, his favorite. The only immediate sound was the rumbling of the transport's scaled fusion reactor and the abrupt, competing echoes of the still-jittery crew. Mr. Shelco looked back at the second transport, stood up then walked to the second transport.
Aaen looked over his right shoulder for a few seconds, watched as the rest of the class were soon quieted and comfortably seated, though Aaen guessed there was still some chatter among the cadets.
A minute later, Mr. Shelco returned to his seat on the lead transport.
The pilot spent one additional minute completing a short list of preflight checks on her control console, testing the engines, and then navigational systems. Lastly, she tested the communication systems. She picked up her radio handset from its base, holding it five inches from her mouth, she pressed the transmit button.
"Transport Shuttle Alpha to Bravo, confirm readiness to launch. Over." the transmission echoed on the intercom in both transports.
"Bravo to Alpha confirmed." she replaced the handset then entered a series of commands into her console.
The passengers of both transports looked outside their windows, watching as a thick metal arm protruded from both sides of the fuselages, followed by the lowering of a single cylindrical protrusion from each arm. The protrusion hung like someone holding a handrail. Each protrusion lit up following a second command prompt. A final command turned the cabin rumbling into a gradual uproar as a windy dust cloud shot from under each transport. The cabin briefly felt turbulent as they lifted off the ground seconds later, angling upright like a roller coaster, and then quickly accelerated forward.
The ground shrank out of sight. The transports passed cloud cover in two minutes. Being without seat belts or like restraints, most of the cabin grabbed the seats in front of them for seeming security. Aaen faced forward and kicked back, turning his head toward the right side his view window, watching as a blue sky dimmed into a fine mist before the only sight was a vast, brilliant darkness. Finally! Aaen thought. Years of hard work were finally starting to pay off. He felt determined to get on board the Voyager's bridge. A gut feeling told him whoever issued the bridge station assignments for the class made a huge mistake with his station assignment. Somehow, he also felt that it would be a short-lived mistake. But how? He wondered. The cadets selected for command of the Voyager are popular among the general student body, but. . .are those three really ready to command a ship that big, much less a convoy of transport ships? Aaen already started to have doubts about the mission's outcome. Three ships, each manned by a crew of junior and senior cadets are tasked with leading a convoy of unarmed transports into a doomed, debris-congested solar system in hopes of rescuing the population of a whole planet—and the three appointed lead command offers have more social brownie points than they do rank insignia, combined. This should be an interesting mission.
The Earth's atmosphere looked like a visually delicious hazy aura at this altitude. Aaen looked to his right, noticing the rest of the class left him as the only one enjoying the breathtaking view; it only lasted for a few seconds to his disappointment. The cabin sounded more like that of a Boeing 747 when one is at the gate, as first and second-year training simulations had indicated in the school's holodeck. Aaen enjoyed some turbulence from a brief fight to break the planet's gravity. The inertia dampers made the G-Forces barely noticeable. Onboard speculation continued about the events to come. Aaen kept to himself. Everyone almost seemed like they were starting to float in their seats before the pilot picked up the handset, switching the base to the intercom setting. "Engaging artificial gravity. Standby, cadets, you might get a little dizzy." the pilot quickly replaced the handset. The floating discontinued almost immediately.
Earth was now out of sight. The transports veered to starboard, and then leveled their ascent in near unison. The brief echoes of rhetoric speculation about what was to come quickly ceased as a brilliant bright blue light gradually reflected off the interior. The speculation was quickly replaced by unanimous wide-eyed awe at the tall glowing tower filling every view window.
The intercom beeped.
"Transports Alpha and Bravo, this is Starbase One Docking Control. You are cleared for docking at yards Delta and Sierra. Over."
The pilot switched the intercom to the speaker setting. "Roger. Transports are back. Over."
Suddenly, both transports slowed as they rose almost perfectly vertical. Starbase One's shadow cast over the transports as they approached their destination. Two rows of LED's lining the inside of two sets of double-sided steel doors started blinking as the doors separated. The transports cleared the doors with precision as they opened, entering a large hangar bay—essentially the fanciest and high-tech space ship port ever constructed, Aaen admired. An automated alarm echoed throughout the bay along with an announcement.
"Transports Alpha and Bravo are arriving in docking bay Delta. All stations: standby for crew arrival!"
At 10 knots (5 mph), the transports were halfway to the front of the bay in ten seconds. Aaen watched through the starboard view windows with an enthusiastic grin as two rectangular jet bridges emerged from the front of the hangar in tandem. A quad of docking clamps extended from the mouth of both jet bridges as the pilots maneuvered into position.
THUD
A short series of metallic clicks briefly rattled the cabin.
"Secure." a high-pitched computer voice echoed throughout the cabin. "Jet Bridge pressurizing."
The air was electric with the loud hiss of rushing air coursing through the rubber veins lining the walls of the jet bridge.
Mr. Shelco stood up and looked down the middle of the cabin. "Okay, cadets. Stand up! Line up in the middle of the cabin!" the class complied. Mr. Shelco was at the head of the line, facing the quickly-crowded center isle until another semi-organized line formed.
The door separating the cabin from the jet bridge slid open.
"Follow me!" said Mr. Shelco. The class followed him down a long 50-foot tunnel where a uniformed adult—whom Aaen presumed was in her late 40's or early 50's—with a red uniform jacket, black pants, and single star on her gold shoulder boards greeted the line with a smile. "Welcome to Starbase One. I'm Yeoman Houston. We need to get you into your ships as quickly as possible if you'll please follow me. She led the group, including Mr. Shelco, around a right corner for ten feet into a narrow hallway, and then turned left into a narrower hallway, then stopped. The other half of the class soon followed. Aaen noticed a large black sign on the right side of the hallway as he entered.
"Loading Dock — USSC Voyager"
This is it, Aaen thought, determinedly looking at the airlock. The back of the hallway was an open-ended two-way passage, but something told him 'no one was going that way.' The front of the hallway consisted of double doors that looked like they had to be about three inches thick, easily. The right-side door was open; the left side was closed with a black plastic sign posted about five feet above the floor.
"Standby for boarding. Please have your Boarding Pass present."
Yeoman Houston stood in the open doorway, waving her arms in the air as if to get the cadets' attention. "Attention, please! Please raise your hand if you're assigned to the Voyager! . . . Now raise your hand if you're assigned to the Odyssey! . . . Now raise your hand if you're assigned to the Galileo!" she orchestrated the separation of the three crews. The Voyager was on her left-hand side, the Odyssey on the opposite, the Galileo on the same side as the Odyssey but lined up behind them. "Where is the Voyager's Captain, First Officer, and Ambassador!" they raised their hands. "You three will be going in last." they stepped to the back of the line. "Will the Voyager's security officers please step forward." she ushered them to the front of the line. Tension and excitement rose among the three crews. Aaen was still eighth in line. "Okay, Voyager crew, step forward. Security, you're first to go through the transporter." she gestured for them to step into a tall, wide, black cylindrical orifice. A single command to a small panel to the right of the mechanism caused their straight faces to disappear in seconds with as a swirl of brilliant light surrounded them. The process repeated several times. It was soon Aaen's turn. He transported alone—feeling the acute sensation of mildly prickly insects crawling all over him as the orifice disappeared amid a seeming glimmering fog, replaced in seconds by the two familiar, serious faces standing side-by-side at firm attention against a flat metal bulkhead panel. Situated next to the two was a large black and white back-lit technical diagram of the Voyager. The loud, electric, patriotic echo of a seemingly recorded drumming honor guard filled the area, complemented the two standing bridge Security guards. Both Security guards now wore a short tunic with yellow shoulders over their cadet jacket uniform. The tunic was overlapped by a light-grey sash emblazoned with the Federation's logo woven into over the heart. They gestured for Aaen to proceed to his left through a tall black doorway. He proceeded through the doorway, then down a trio of black LED-lit stairs going down into a dark passageway. A soft mechanical hum filled the air. Aaen grinned. The passageway led to a second black doorway with a Starbase officer at the mouth of the doorway. The Starbase officer's uniform featured twin silver Lieutenant's bars on her light-blue shoulder boards. She gestured him to walk down an LED-lit downward staircase leading to another sliding door, behind it—visible through a small view window—another corridor. This corridor was all-white and much more narrow than those before it, lined with dual blue ribbon lights.
Aaen did as he was instructed. The door separated into the doorway. He found a trio of small fans overhead blowing cool air as he walked forward for ten feet, and then turned right at the corner, down another staircase—this time they were made out of metal, gridded and ruggedly textured. Each step was like walking on hard bubble wrap. He casually rested his palm on the cool steel handrail with one hand for three steps; the fourth was on a flat, hard carpeted surface where he found walls lined with padded bunks. Greeting him was a short, blonde woman—Aaen guessed about five-foot, maybe five-foot-five-inches tall—in her late 20's dressed in a light blue uniform. She stood in front of a row of bunks, holding a short, simple sleeveless tunic uniform in front of her next to a trio of neatly folded and stacked tunics of different color and design on a pad behind her at approximately her shoulder-height.
"Cadet, step forward!" she said directly.
He complied.
"This uniform—" a cool chill shot up and down Aaen's back, "—goes over your head—" she quickly pulled the tunic down over his head, then held her hands out as a thick elastic band stretched over her extended index fingers, "then you'll want to put your hands through the elastic bands on the sides. Those are your sleeves."
Again, he quickly complied. His tunic featured red shoulders with black over the torso. "USSC Voyager" was woven on the left just under the red shouldering, over the heart. He nodded. The pullover uniform fit comfortably over the cadet jacket.
She gestured to walk up the spiral staircase a few feet to her right. "You may now proceed up the spiral staircase behind me to the bridge."
He looked to this right as he approached the base of the staircase. A small, rectangular black plastic sign mounted next to a row of cabinets read: "DECK TWO." the surrounding area included a small kitchen area complete with a double sink, counter top lined with a row of bar stools, and what looked like a sickbay through an adjacent passage between the counter top and the woman. A male in his mid 20's wearing a white lab coat was examining every detail of the room, noting what he saw and did on a metal checklist. Aaen noted the sound just above him of beeping computers running preflight diagnostic checks on all of the ship's systems. Aaen looked forward then quickly proceeded up the staircase. The sweet sound of beeping computers grew intensely louder with the relaxing ambiance that was the purr of the ship's reactor's subtle echo through the walls.
Once at the top, Aaen was immediately greeted by a tall man he presumed to be in his early 50's, his white uniform shirt featured gold shoulder boards, each bearing a five-star cluster. Aaen stood shocked, wide-eyed, realizing where he was and who he was looking at—Fleet Admiral Williamson, himself!
With a plain, straight face, he said, "Welcome to the bridge. You're boarding pass." he extended his palm. Aaen looked around him as he surrendered the folded document. Most of the stations had already been manned; he was one of the last seven or eight—including the Captain, First Officer, and Ambassador—that was yet to arrive. "You sit here." he pointed to a station behind him, the last of a middle row of stations in the middle of the bridge on the right side.
Aaen observed the front of the bridge as he walked to his computer station. The bridge featured a long vertical black panel overlapping a square main view screen above a larger tactical projection. The Federation's flag was emblazoned in gold over a black background on both forward adjacent walls. Aaen pulled out his chair and sat down. Three sat at the very front-center of the bridge, all three had "Communication" in their job titles, according to the top-right corner of their computer screens. To Aaen's right: three other cadets, one with two tangible computer station interfaces, each screen displayed a blue version of what was on the forward walls. Over his right shoulder, the Bridge Engineer, judging by all of the fiber-optic circuitry hanging off the walls surrounding that cadet, and the circuitry plugged into the person's station. A multi-colored control panel was mounted on the outside of that station just behind the station to Aaen's right. The command platform was behind him with a luxurious-looking chair in the center—a diagram of the ship was mounted directly over and behind the chair with another computer terminal to the chair's left and a simpler chair to the right. The far left of the bridge featured two security stations, another slightly elevated station and four more stations in front of it, level with Aaen's row. All of the computer stations had a small personal audio device placed in front of each station's computer screen. Each audio device connected to identical sets of headphones placed on the top of each computer station. Everyone on the bridge listened to the electrifying patriotic tune while the rest of the main Voyager crew arrived, and then were seated. Security arrived. Both were seated promptly on a platform elevated as much as the command platform. The respective Odyssey and Galileo crews were both directed by Fleet Admiral Williamson to proceed to the far left side of the bridge to the top of a second, shorter staircase going down. Both crews were escorted off the bridge by a respective Starbase One officer—one male, the other a female, both appeared to be in their 20's, Aaen estimated. The Ambassador entered the bridge and was directed to her seat behind and slightly left of Aaen's seat.
Fleet Admiral Williamson faced the bridge. "All rise!"
The bridge crew quickly stood up.
The First Officer walked up the staircase; Fleet Admiral Williamson showed him to his station. The First Officer stood in front of his chair and then faced the bridge.
"Captain to the bridge!"
The most popular cadet in the class walked up the staircase in ten seconds. Fleet Admiral Williamson directed him to the center seat with a pointed, outstretched palm. The Captain walked to the left edge of the command platform, grabbed the handrail on the edge of the platform and pulled himself up with little effort. He walked passed the First Officer, stood in front of the center seat, and then faced the front of the bridge.
"Crew, at ease. .you may be seated?"
The Captain spoke just loud enough for the bridge to hear. Aaen could hear a large amount of personal skepticism in the Captain's voice. This will be a very interesting mission. . .
*****
Steve Hale of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin,
"You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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