Sharp, bright red particle bolts scored the walls lining the staircase. Aaen sharply recoiled and raised his arms over his face as a bolt missed his face by only a couple of feet. The heat of the bolt made his face feel like it had been exposed to a heat lamp in the same manner as the flash a photographer's handheld camera at point-blank range. The walls seemed unaffected by the particle weapon discharge. Aaen felt his heart rate spike; his face felt flushed as he dropped his rifle and instinctively crouched, glaring at the staircase at an angle as he breathed heavily. He felt an urge to pick up his rifle and rush down the staircase. NO! WAIT! Only fools rush in. . .he recalled from year two's Highlight security training in the main recreation room. He snapped, retrieved his rifle, and then instead crouched at the top of the staircase, inching toward a small crevice between the top of the staircase and the lower deck. He carefully eyed a narrow area of the deck below over a small stack of bunks directly beneath the staircase.
"TAKE COVER! GET OVER THERE!" the chief of security yelled. "WATCH OUT!" he gestured. The sound of collapsing objects filled the air.
Another bolt scored the floor. Aaen looked slightly left. . .the battle bridge was equipped with its own Sickbay, he admired, but it appeared to be dark and unpowered.
"Aaen! What's going on? What do you see?" the Admiral asked directly.
Getting lower to the floor, he was barely able to see a few feet farther to what appeared to be more of a carpeted area, leading to the bottom of a textured black metal step with a narrow handrail. . . . What. . .is. . .THAT? Aaen asked.
"Aaen? Commander?" the Admiral asked.
Aaen leaned upright and looked at the Admiral with a shocked look and turned his head widely, shocked. Another wave of particle bolts nearly missed the spiral staircase. Aaen ducked away from the small flurry of sparks, and then quickly inched back to his previous position.
"KEEP FIRING! GO FOR THE STAIRCASE! GET BACK TO THE BRIDGE! HURRY!" the chief of security commanded.
"I CAN'T! I'M PINNED DOWN!" said a crew member.
"COVERING FIRE!"
"Chief, it's up there!" said another crew member that sounded like he was behind and beneath where Aaen was observing.
"I don't have a clear shot!"
Me, neither. Aaen thought darkly, lifting his rifle in front of him, trying to figure out a way to get low enough to get a shot off—if anything to buy his comrades a few seconds to break away from cover and get away. It would have definitely been danger-close. One of the crew members was hiding in the battle bridge Sickbay passageway, looking around the corner with a shocked and scared look; his hair was very disorganized, undoubtedly from the shock of finding. . .
Another bolt struck the head of the bunk beneath the staircase—Aaen tried to force his rifle's barrel into a small triangular space and fired. The bolt caused a crackling spark that lit up the adjoining walls surrounding the staircase. He pulled his rifle back and looked down at the lower deck. About a square foot of carpet was lightly singed from the shot. The visible crew members on the lower deck recoiled. Aaen realized his shot never got close to the target. Did I just give away my position? Aaen thought in a panic—
"Can you see it?" a voice asked. Aaen reason the question was directed at him.
"No! I can't!" another voice replied.
"WAIT! What's that?" the chief of security asked.
"WHAT?"
The lights on the lower deck started to dim. . . Aaen felt his face feeling twice as flushed. Gotta get 'em off that deck!
"Where'd it go?" one of the crew members on the lower deck asked. It was too dark on the lower deck for hand gestures, Aaen reasoned.
Another bolt scored the lower deck at an angle—a crew member yelled as he collapsed to the deck floor covering his left shoulder; his shoulder briefly glowed red as he tried to roll left.
"MAN DOWN!" the chief of security declared, rushing from the left from an area of the lower deck Aaen couldn't see, took the crew member by the arm and pulled him left to what Aaen reasoned was safety. . .or at least safer than where he had been hiding.
"It's still up there!" the second voice whispered.
If this is a phasemorpher, why didn't it assume a more aggressive shape? Aaen wondered. Unless it did. . . .
Multiple particle bolts shot in the opposite direction. Aaen could only hear crackling sparks as the result. They must have missed. . .
"I don't have a clear shot!"
"Hold your ground!" ordered the chief of security.
Those aliens—who or whatever they are—are going to be here soon. . .and there's no telling what they'll be capable of. What could their intentions possibly be? Aaen wondered, but reminded himself that it may not be worth finding out about. . .not right now, at least. The priority was neutralizing the intruder, restoring power, and then getting the Station back to Union space as fast as possible.
Aaen felt a drop of sweat fall from his forehead onto the top step and his hair was falling on the right side of his head as he tried to inch closer to the stairway crevice to try to see the intruder. . . C'mon. C'mon, Aaen thought, holding his rifle above his head at an angle. Why isn't the intruder shooting? he wondered. The only thing visible were bunks, a carpeted floor, the entrance to the battle bridge Sickbay, one terrified crew member looking around the Sickbay entrance corner holding his sidearm at shoulder level.
"Chief! Get your people back up here! Hurry!" Aaen whispered blindly.
"Negative! It's still up there!"
"What is still up there?"
"The intruder! It's at the top of that staircase!"
"Do you have a clear shot?" Aaen asked directly.
"—Negative!"
Aaen heard a chirping sound from behind.
"This is the Admiral. Go ahead."
Aaen leaned upright and looked to his left to see the Admiral holding her communicator to her right ear. A muffled voice sounded from the small speaker in the center of the device, and then she replied, "I understand. Thank you. Out." She closed the device and replaced it in its holster.
"That alien sensor contact is getting closer. We've got to get back to the bridge as soon as possible."
Another exchange of particle fire erupted on the lower deck, lighting up the stairwell. Aaen tried once more to get close enough to the crevice to see if he could see the intruder. . .
"Commander! What are you doing?"
Aaen gestured for him to be quiet with a raised palm.
The first thing gradually to become visible was the edge of the lower deck's ceiling. He inched down the staircase, reaffirming his grip on his rifle which he held at head level. There was a second metal step with a handrail. . .and then—what the heck? Aaen wondered, wincing at a thin black material fluttering just below the far ceiling's edge. . . . Aaen's thoughts wandered in shock at who or what might be at the top of those stairs. Wide-eyed, he continued looking straight.
"What do you see?" the Admiral asked.
"—TROUBLE!" Aaen whispered.
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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