The bridge crew rushed to take their positions on the bridge.
"I need the main viewscreen on—" the image on the screen cleared, and the red lights became brighter.
"Uh, this is chief engineer Watson down here in main engineering, Admiral! I'm not exactly sure what happened just now—but we have 85 percent of main power at your disposal!" he said with a tone indicating surprise and a cheerful outlook on getting back to Union space. Aaen sensed the sum of the emotional atmosphere meant the bridge crew and surely on the rest of the Station were on their toes.
"Admiral! That other ship's gone! They just vanished!" announced the Executive Officer. Aaen admired the Shadows' cunning.
"I'm getting total subspace and long-range communication silence on all frequencies! Someone is jamming our communications!" said Division Communications Officer.
It's them! Aaen reasoned. "Admiral, I think it's time we got outta here!"
"I agree!" declared the Executive Officer.
The deck plating abruptly shuddered sharply and the lights dimmed for several seconds as though the Station had nearly taken a direct hit that would have rendered the Station powerless. Aaen braced against this station and observed the same from the rest of the bridge crew.
"Report!" the Admiral demanded, struggling to sit back in her chair.
"Weapon fire! Unknown origin or direction!"
"Shields down to forty percent!" declared Strategic Operations, frantically.
"Aaen! Get us out of here!"
"Back through the Vortex!" the Captain ordered.
"Aye! Engaging maneuvering thrusters!"
"I've got no readings as to the origin of the—" the deck shuddered again this time more sharply—and then again several times.
Aaen was frantic with his flight controls, frequently alternating his attention to his computer stations and the main viewscreen. The subtle, flooding rumble of the maneuvering thrusters filled the bridge as the stars gradually shifted off the screen. Within seconds, the bright white Vortex was nearly centered. Aaen corrected for inertia.
Another shudder.
"Hostile fire is tearing through our shields like they weren't even raised! Our shields are barely slowing their weapons down, much less stopping them!' said Strategic Operations.
"Hull breach on deck fifteen!" said the chief of operations.
"Confirmed!" said the bridge engineer.
"Casualties?" the Executive Officer asked.
"No reports yet!"
"Strategic Operations! Where are the weapons?" the Admiral asked directly.
"Charging cannons and arming torpedo launcher batteries! I've got nothing on targeting scanners to fire on, Admiral!"
"Try remodulating shield frequencies! Maybe that'll help?"
"Do it!" the Admiral agreed, pointing at Strategic Operations.
Aaen looked to his right, noticing the chief of security saying something to the deputy, who quickly returned to his station. The chief of security held both of their rifles and kept them trained on the intruder. The intruder was starting to come out of the stun. Aaen started to feel worried. Would two particle rifles be enough to keep that thing contained outside of a brig? He started having doubts.
"Exec!—" another sharp shudder, and then the sound of a series of distant explosions. "Keeping scanning for anything! Find me a target!"
"Power conduit ruptured on decks six through eight! Minor injuries reported!" said the deputy.
"Doctor!" the Admiral demanded. The Doctor rushed off the bridge.
"Whoever's shooting at us—whatever they're shooting at us with, it's going almost right through our hull!" announced the Executive Officer. "I still can't get a fix on where they're at!"
"Aaen! How long until we get through the Vortex?" the Admiral asked.
"Every weapon impact keeps knocking us off course! I'm going to have the main computer calculate a course to the Vortex and then use the maneuvering thrusters—" another series of shudders knocked the bridge crew off their seats and off their feet; Aaen was thrown to his right for a few feet near the main bridge entrance. Aaen pulled himself back up to his station and watched as sparks shot from near some of the bridge computer screens. The lights flickered and flashed violently and erratically. "Calculating course!—" the numbers rotated seemingly at random until a set of 'X', 'Y' and 'Z' coordinates appeared. Aaen frantically entered the coordinates, struggling against the bridge shaking from whatever had just hit the Station. Aaen's left computer indicated the Station was tilting and spinning like an unbalanced spinning top! Aaen struggled to hold himself upright as he observed the Vortex gradually angled on the main viewscreen.
—Done! "Course entered!" Aaen announced. The Station's directional thrusters fired and the bassy sound flooded the bridge as the Vortex gradually centered on the main viewscreen.
"Aaen?" the Captain asked fearfully.
"Fifteen seconds!"
"Admiral! I just got a printed message from another ship!"
"I thought you said all communications were jammed?" the Executive Officer asked directly.
"Well, someone managed to get a message through!"
The Admiral walked to the middle of the bridge and looked to her right. "What does it say?"
". . .'We'll give you cover! Good luck, Magellan!'"
Whoever was shooting at us, there wasn't even an alert warning of a weapons lock on the Station. . . Aaen gasped heavily, alarmed. Whoever that was that was shooting at us— He eyed the navigational readings on his left computer. "Ten seconds to Union space!" Aaen announced cheerfully.
The Vortex became brighter as the Station drew near. Aaen kept his right hand on his computer control for the Station's maneuvering thrusters to maintain momentum toward their destination. C'mon. .C'mon! Aaen thought determinedly.
The main viewscreen turned a bright white as turbulence gradually, dramatically increased. . .time seemed to slow even to an intermittent stutter. . . Aaen tried to remain focused on the main viewscreen but gradually looked forward at the front of the bridge, pivoted his head left, and then forward again, watching as the chief of security lost his sense of balance and tumbled backward against a wall. The bridge seemed to stretch forward and Aaen began to feel dizzy and disoriented—
The effects gradually stopped as the stars appeared.
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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