"—At this time, Admiral, the suggested course of action is to send commandos to the Rundown's last approximate location to see if there is any way of finding more information that might help us figure out if they are, in-fact, working together, and maybe what their goals might be. . . . Aye, sir. Magellan Admiral. Out," the handset was promptly replaced.
"Admiral?" Aaen asked, noticing the Captain was looking at her with a similar look of curiosity. The Admiral returned to her chair.
"Exec, have you been able to narrow down where the Rundown's might be at this point?"
He nodded, "Yeah! The translight trail is almost completely gone. Looks like it dropped to sublight about five-hundred-thousand kilometers ahead,"
"Where does that put it?" Aaen asked. "Can you track the sublight wake?"
The Executive Officer turned his head, then looked at the main viewscreen. "It's inside the Triangle!—Somewhere. . . I have the coordinates!"
"Send them to the primary Rundown's launch pads! Security, put all of the commandos on standby! We're to find that Rundown, and figure out what's going on. We've got spies in there that are working on getting us more information. We've also been given senior directive-level command of four ships that are within ten light years from here. Command's sending us their names and command authorization codes. Crew, we're going in,"
The bridge was unsettlingly silent for several seconds.
"—Captain! I recommend launching reconnaissance probes. We could use them to establish an early-warning system in case any ships might be coming in our general direction, or to us, specifically," said Ensign Henderson.
"Exec, are you seeing any ships out there right now?"
"No. According to short-range sensors, we're the only ones out here!"
—For now, maybe, Aaen thought, skeptical of how long the crew's luck would hold out, "I concur with the Admiral! Reconnaissance probes would be nearly impossible to detect unless they know how to pick up on their transmission frequency. Odds are no-one'll be the wiser,"
The Admiral nodded several times, then looked at the top level of left-wing, "Okay. Start launching the probes,"
"Aye!"
Aaen looked forward, "Ensign Larsen, are you getting any comm-traffic?" Aaen asked.
She looked back puzzled, "Uh, yeah, how'd you know?"
"A gut feeling,"
"What are you getting?" Lieutenant Hammond asked curiously concerned tone.
"There's a lot of jamming interference, but it sounds like some kind of coded message,"
"Work on seeing if you can decipher the message. Let me know when you have something,"
"Yes, sir,"
A loud mechanical screaming sound filled the bridge.
"Probe away!"
"I want all comm channels monitored 'round the clock, Lieutenant,"
"Okay! I'm on it!"
"Commandos are preparing to depart on Rundown pads one through six!"
"Coordinates to the Rundown's navigational computers," said Lieutenant Malcolm.
"—Captain!"
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Long-range sensors just picked up multiple metallic objects heading in this direction. They have a translight signature! Not sure what kind of ships they are, but they're headed in our direction at high-translight!"
"Have they detected us?" Aaen asked.
". . .Doesn't look like it! Their current course indicates they are headed into the Triangle!"
"How long before they are in within visual range?" Lieutenant Malcom asked.
"—Ten minutes, if they maintain their current speed,"
The Captain stood up, "Are they Rotelans?"
Lieutenant Hammond turned his head, "No idea. They're still too far away to get a clear reading,"
Aaen glanced at the new readings on the main viewscreen—a new icon of a trio of white and grey diamonds moving in perfect formation on a curved projected trajectory toward the Triangle. They're almost on a perfectly adjacent course to ours, relative to the Triangle. . . How do you hide a freakin' space station from what might be an entire fleet! Aaen asked himself. Remember, you have to take into consideration the sensor range of the ships you detect. He recalled something he was told years ago in Highlight, 'Just because you can see them, doesn't necessarily mean they can see you.' Aaen began to feel heightened anxiety over Magellan being detected. Only time will tell. . . .
"—They're getting closer!" Ensign Sorenson said.
Captain Williams snapped, "Get ready to fire weapons!—"
"No! Wait!" Admiral Jenson interjected.
"They may not have detected us," Aaen said.
"They're slowing to sublight speed!" Lieutenant Hammond announced. "They're maintaining their current course,"
"Maintain alert condition-two!"
"—Confirmed!"
Another mechanical scream filled the bridge. Another probe just got launched.
"They've stopped! They're just outside the Orions' border!"
"Still any I.D. on those ships?" Aaen asked.
"Nothing, yet,"
"Can we scan them?" Ensign Sorenson asked.
"We can, but we risk them detecting us if we do,"
Aaen didn't want to admit it, but Lieutenant Hammond was right. Scans from a space station are too high-powered to be discrete. "Lieutenant Malcolm, do you have a Reconnaissance Probe in range of that fleet?"
"I just launched one in their direction!"
Lieutenant Mars snapped, "—I'm getting comm traffic! There's lots of static, but I can understand what he's saying! There's only one person speaking!"
"Confirmed!" said Ensign Henderson.
"Put it on speakers!" Captain Williams said. "Hurry!"
". . .On-speakers!"
"SILENCE ON THE DECK!" Captain Williams commanded.
A brief series of beeps and chirps filled the bridge and then was replaced by muffled static. A cold chill filled the air
". . . .It's me. We're here. We have what you asked for. . . . Do you have the 'prize?'. . . . You don't have to worry, we weren't followed. They had no idea what happened until. . . ." Static overwhelmed the person speaking, ". . . .Confirming identity: Dark Whisper. . . .Requesting permission to enter the Triangle. . . .Authorization code: Zuma-Six-Two-Delt. . . ."
Admiral Jensen rushed to Ensign Henderson, and then asked: "Can you clear that up at all?"
He turned his head. Admiral Jensen fast-walked disappointedly back to her chair.
"Of course. . .not to worry. . . .More time than we need. . . .We'll be there shortly. . . .Dark Whisper. Out." The line lowly beeped to silence.
"Line's clear!" Ensign Henderson announced.
"Lieutenant Mars, run that name through the Intelligence database! I wanna know everything we've got on it!" Admiral Jensen ordered.
"Copy that!"
"Sending encrypted update on our situation to Command!" said Lieutenant Harrison.
"Detecting USS Halleybird and USS Knightsword on long-range sensors—on an intercept course for us!"
"Lieutenant Harrison, send them a long-range message to rig for silent running," the Admiral ordered.
"Commando's standing by for deployment, Admiral!"
"Pull up the sensor data on the Rundown's coordinates, combine with the reconnaissance probe data, and then connect me with the Rundown's on an audio-only channel,"
Each officer responded in-turn in the affirmative.
"—Line open,"
"This is Admiral Jensen. You are all being deployed on a reconnaissance operation to find the stolen Rundown, gather as much information as possible, and then either recover the Rundown or destroy it so the technology doesn't fall into enemy hands. Defend yourselves, if necessary, but I want everyone to return to the Station alive. Maintain an open comm link on a secure channel. Good luck," Admiral Jensen looked at the chief of operations, "Launch Rundowns,"
Lieutenant Malcolm nodded and carried out the order.
Aaen watched as the image on the main viewscreen changed to show six Rundown's' translight nacelles lighting up, effortlessly lifting off of their respective launch pads on the inner-most ring, and the secondary ring, changing course for their destination and increasing speed gradually until they sped out of sight into the darkness of space.
The image changed to show computer system diagnostics in progress throughout the Station.
Six Rundowns, loaded with a whole-lotta commandos, and one small target in the middle of the largest known gathering of vicious thugs in the known galaxy! Some fleet of who-knows-who just arrived. . . Aaen's gut started to churn from anxiety. Could they be the buyers for the Vortex data?
"Rundowns are on course!—They've activated stealth mode. . .reading reduced translight signatures. . ."
"We're receiving a live video feed from their external sensors!"
"Thanks, Chief. Route the video feed to the main viewscreen," the Captain commanded.
The image changed. There was static in the video feed, which Aaen guessed was because of the existing interference in the area. . . The Rundowns course-corrected—again, and then their destination came into view: a dark silhouette of an asteroid resembling a bulgy peach pit came into view.
"This is One. We are approaching destination. Standby for landing, over,"
"Copy, One," the Captain replied.
Alright. . . Here goes nothin', Aaen thought.
Alright. . . Here goes nothin', Aaen thought.
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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