The comm-line clicked on. A male voice said, "This is Alpha, closing on L-Z. All units, assume Delta formation and stay frosty. Sensor information is distorted. Other than the L-Z, we're not getting any clear readings on what's ahead. Prepare for landing. Distance: 50 clicks and closing. Maintain full impulse and active sensor scans for hostiles,"
The Magellan bridge crew listened to multiple subsequent acknowledgments as the Rundown all quickly began maneuvering as they were ordered. Aaen sensed the tension on the bridge was mounting—so much, that his chest started to hurt from anxiety and fear of what could be lurking ahead. His forehead felt cool and seemed like it was getting colder. He was so focused on what was going on outside the Station at the moment that he unknowingly tuned out the sensation. The commando teams—all six of them, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot—could be heading straight in for a trap, for all any one member of the bridge crew could tell. There was still some intermittent static on the comm-line, and on the video feed. The current video feed was coming from shuttle Charlie, according to the information filling the upper-right hand corner of the main viewscreen. Alpha was just ahead of Charlie, and flying a little higher; Bravo was on Alpha's left; Charlie was on Alpha's right. The entire formation looked like a wide arrowhead flying in pristine formation and seemingly effortlessly matching each other's course and speed. They must have been training for a situation like this for months. . .years, even. Aaen reasoned.
The comm-line filled with multiple subtle voices whose message was audible, but lacked any signal clarity. Who is that?—Who's talking? Aaen wondered, looking at the Admiral, and then the Captain.
The Admiral fast-walked to Lieutenant Mars, and then Ensign Henderson. Each officer pointed out something on their computer screens, but the Admiral only turned her head and then returned to her chair.
"Bravo. We're picking up comm-traffic. Source unknown. Magellan, please advise,"
"Admiral," the Captain asked, "Are we aborting the mission?"
She stood up and faced the main viewscreen. . . .
The rest of the bridge crew looked at her with straight, concerned faces—
"No. Tell them to continue,"
The order was relayed, and then the Admiral gave an order to Lieutenant Mars. Aaen couldn't hear over the sound of the seemingly anomalous comm-traffic. Multiple voices speaking almost at once. . . Was that the Orions?. . . Or their buyer?. . . He leaned into his desk, coupled his hands and then rested his closed mouth on the back of his thumbs.
The wide arrowhead formation of Rundown began to descend into a massive dark cavity in the asteroid.
"Roger that, Magellan. We're inbound on the L-Z,"
The Rundown hulls were consumed by the darkness, leaving only their blue, red, and yellow engines as visible.
"All units, activate infra-red running lights. Slow to one-quarter impulse. Engage silent running,"
The darkness turned from pitch black to a bright, sharp neon green. The sensor rotated slightly right as the formation rolled and took a gradual right turn, then a long left turn, ascended to about two-hundred-fifty-meters, descended for a hundred, and then flew straight.
"All units, shut down impulse engines. Thrusters only. We're three hundred meters from L-Z. Begin landing sequence Alpha,"
A large, flat rock bed was to starboard. Nobody home, Aaen thought. Good.
A series of landing confirmations filled the bridge over the comm-line. "Alright, switching to rifle cam's," The camera feed stopped. The main viewscreen filled with static, and then the static was replaced by live images of a Rundown's floor plating. The bridge filled with gasps of relief from the bridge crew, and the whines and clicks of rifle actions being pulled and activated.
Additional data filled the main viewscreen, red indicators representing each team gradually turned green as the junior leaders of each team confirmed readiness to search for their objective. The Admiral nodded at the Captain, who relayed the signal to Ensign Henderson, who then sent a signal to the commandos.
"—Alpha, confirmed. Commandos are good-to-go. All units, movin' out,"
Another commando touched a control on the Rundown's loading door. The door opened immediately, and then the rifle camera sharply rose, panning right then left. A hand signal indicated the way ahead was clear. Aaen oberved the video feed, noticing each commando was dressed in some kind of specialized space suit unlike what would be normally issued to any member of the Magellan crew and were equipped with what Aaen reasoned was some kind of highly-specialized tactical gear Aaen had never seen before. The commandos marched out of the Rundowns in double-line formation, rifles up, turning right into a large cave. A flurry of bright targeting dots seemingly scattered across the surrounding rock faces as they panned every direction as the four lines of expert marksmen boldly marched forward.
Another hand gesture from the front caused all four lines to quickly pass the gesture along, stopping all four lines.
Admiral Jensen walked to Lieutenant Hammond, then quietly, directly asked, "What's going on? Why are they stopping?"
"Their uplink says they detected movement. Not sure what it is yet. Alpha lead is doing a scan to try to identify what they're detecting. . .,"
Another gesture. The commandos continued forward.
"Sensor echo, Admiral, the rock face is comprised mostly of—"
"Thank you, Lieutenant," she returned to her chair.
A right turn—then a left. A wide-open area. Another gesture to stop.
There it is! Aaen silently thought.
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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