The Translight conduit started to blur and shake in the main viewscreen. No, that was the hull. He knew what that meant. Aaen read and quickly analyzed the information on his navigational screen. He anxiously realized the Station's course was gradually becoming unstable. The Station was still on course—for now, but that was probably gonna change, he realized in shock, if the Station didn't come to full stop, and soon. What was left of the attitude thrusters were barely online and keeping the Station steady on its current heading. He looked at the readings again—in a manner of speaking, the Station was almost walking on ice! At this speed, if navigational control failed, the Station could end up virtually anywhere, and fast. And there were a few places Aaen and (he anticipated) most of the rest of the bridge crew didn't want to go or end up, for that matter.
"Hull integrity's dropping fast!" Ensign Bryce alarmingly declared. "Seventy-five percent! . . . Sixty!"
Hammond read his screen, then snapped. "We're at the coordinates! Power-down Translight!"
Struggling overhead bulkheads made a reverberating sound that sent a chill down Aaen's spine. The vibrations in the decked gradually intensified until even the desks rattled. He was fast on the controls, then watched the power levels in the coils gradually drop to zero.
He eyed the main viewscreen, watching as the Station shifted along what looked like a space track. He felt himself being jerked left, then right, back and forth, then away and upright against an invisible pull forward as he pushed away from his station to keep himself steady. .and then stars gradually became still. He grinned as he declared, "Translight's offline! Thrusters at station-keeping." He looked at Admiral Jensen and breathed a sigh of relief, nodding as he said, "All-stop."
"Take the power out of Translight and put it into all essential systems, especially Sickbay. Ensign Sorenson, do we have any shuttle launch capability?"
"Damage Control's been good with the repairs. We've got three functioning launch pads. We can launch Runabouts again, for a while, at least, until we can do more thorough repairs."
Admiral Jensen gave a new series of orders, one to security to take the intruders to the brig, another order was given to Lieutenant Harrison to contact Starfleet requesting the nearest ships to rendezvous and help with repairs. As it turned out, at maximum translight, the nearest ships were only minutes away. Aaen kept grinning. Magellan would fly again. Soon. Aaen's gut told him things were only just beginning. There's a lot more to come. For now, he enjoyed just being able to breathe sighs of relief.
Admiral Jensen looked down and right. "Lieutenant Harrison. Patch me through to all decks."
He looked up and nodded.
"All hands, all stations . . .," she took a quick breath before continuing, "Station is on Def Con five. All hands to the Runabouts." Admiral Jensen looked at Captain Williams.
"Put the Station on auxiliary power. All main computer functions transfer to backup systems," Captain Williams said to Sorenson, "Lockdown the bridge. We've got to get everyone back to Earth. Tell security to take the intruders to the security sections of the Runabouts instead. Launch when ready."
A series of subtle alerts filled the bridge for several seconds as the lights came back to full illumination. The bridge crew gradually stood up and walked to the bridge entrance, through a seeming maze of variably damaged corridors until reaching the promenade. Anything that was damaged would be repaired in time. And then a bay of twin round doors led to a narrower cavity on the side of his ride home. Aaen was one of the first third of the bridge crew to board the half-lit cabin, quickly buckling in a seat on the front-left side of the cabin behind the pilot. He looked over his shoulder to see the medical personnel were doing a fine job helping those who were closer to danger than he had been. They looked almost like they didn't have a care in the world. Well, except to go home, like he did, he guessed. He was glad to see everyone was alright, and, he sensed almost as excited as he was to find out which ship he was going to be assigned to next. . . . He grinned, facing forward.
The subtle hum of the Runabout's engines powering up filled the air like the comparably subtle beeping sounds from the working computers lining the bridge. The bridge lights gradually brightened as the forward running lights shined against the front of the landing bay. Aaen felt like he was falling straight down for a moment and watched as the Runabout was lifted on its landing pad to ascent-level. The upper docking arms almost jaggedly off their angle, he noted through the top of the forward view windows.
"And," the deck rattled for a second, "we're off," the pilot announced. Aaen wasn't sure who the guy with yellow shoulders in the pilot's seat was, but quickly decided he didn't care. The Runabout rose, then shifted course. The sublight engines fired, and the Station was out of view in almost a blink. "Setting course for Starbase One."
"All Runabouts are in-formation. We've got the lead." said the co-pilot.
"Everyone, standby for maximum translight."
Seconds later, after a bright flash of white light around the hull, the stars became quick streaks of light.
Runabouts were known to be fast and maneuverable. The Runabout dropped out of translight after what seemed like only about a half an hour flight, and a brief one at that. Earth and Starbase One hadn't looked so beautiful, he recalled, since Aaen returned on the Voyager with the convoy back-when. . .
The pilot sitting on the left was quick and sharp on the flight controls. The approach to the inner landing pads was smooth, and the landing was virtually without sensation. A brief, mild alarm signaled it was ok to stand up. Aaen was among the first to off-board. He proceeded to collect his things and then enjoyed a ride home with the rest of his family. After getting some welcomed sleep, and a few months of vacation, Aaen returned to Starbase One for his next assignment. Aaen noticed there were almost twice as many cadets and officers as before coming through the main entrance.
After removing putting his things next to the same wall as before, he removed the lock from his locker door—he found a thin red folder seemingly without any labeling.
He sat down on the highest step and briefly examined the folder—then looked a little bit closer. Finding nothing, he angled the folder in the overhead lights.
The top of the cover read:
"TOP SECRET - USS GALILEO - OFFICIAL -
EYES ONLY
OPERATION: SCORPION RELAY"
OPERATION: SCORPION RELAY"
Aaen was awestruck and shocked at what he read. He read it again in an effort to convince himself he wasn't hallucinating. He subconsciously didn't think he was, but he wanted to be sure. He looked around to check if anyone was around.
He realized he wasn't. There were a few others in the room, but their backs were to him on the two lower steps. There were no cameras. Good.
He spent the next ten seconds trying to figure out how to open the binder. It appeared to be sealed from each side of what otherwise should be a front and a back cover. . .
He adjusted his grip, then a small rectangular portion of the edge of the folder lit up. A fine white line moved across the length of his thumb twice, and then the lip of the folder lit up for a second, and the front and back covers parted.
He was nervous—almost scared—to open the binder. He took a slow, deep breath, and then anxiously thumbed the front cover open—
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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