Admiral
Carrell browsed through each dossier, stopping at the second in the stack. Aaen
also noticed there was a stack of finely-folded, darkly-colored uniforms
resting on the center of the port translight nacelle. He wondered which one was
designated for they would either be chosen as the crew's captain, or if it
would be up for selection by a member of the crew.
Aaen
silently yearned for the ship's center seat. It was, after all, what he was trained for, fundamentally. Besides, who
wouldn't want to command such a ship? he silently asked himself. He thought
back to all those recreation simulations, all of which were designed to test
individual command and character traits to determine suitability for future
consideration. They had to have meant
something for him and his career. The
simulation instructors always had good things to say about his performance,
putting it mildly, his gut agreed with his head on that point. His forehead
felt warm suddenly, a sensation that traveled down his face to the base of his
throat. The instructors' always reviewed his ability to not just command, but
to unite the crew into becoming a
more coherent and functional team.
Aaen recalled having been cited as being able to recognize the difference
between a crew and an otherwise ordinary group of people trying to accomplish a
common goal was comparable to the difference between a bus full of people on
their way to school, and a professional orchestra that travelled by the same
means. At times, he observed other command-hopefuls with other trainees on the
sidelines to better learn others' strengths and weaknesses, and perhaps modify
one's command strategies and tactics based on any self-determined need to adopt
what seemed to work compared and in contrast to something one may have done
that lead to a variably different result.
"Crew,
this ship is manned by a crew of five. The
captain, as you all undoubtedly are already aware from your prior experiences
in the past on other ships of the fleet, is the first in line of command and
has the most command authority on-board-ship, and is responsible for ensuring
the mission's success. Second, you have the first officer, who is second in
line of command, and operates the ship's internal and external sensors, and is
one of a select few on the ship who can order the ship to self-destruct. We
don't recommend doing that."
Duh. Aaen
silently laughed. For an instant, he skeptically wondered if that has ever been something any crew has ever
been faced with doing in the past based on whatever situations past crews may
have had to be in. This is an Intelligence shuttlecraft. A spy ship, essentially . . .
fundamentally designed to be darn-near impossible to detect by any particular
standard. He had heavy doubts about any likelihood of the self-destruct
function ever having been used, much less recently. Galileo was a Mark-V back on The Cry from the Dark, so he reasoned
the last crew survived that mission. He recalled the large black lettering painted
on the upper aft-port-side of the outer hull . . . "Galileo - Mark-V". Aaen attributed the "Mark-V" to
infrastructural improvements to make Galileo
more effective for its intended purpose. A ship doesn't need to be blown up
from the outside, or the inside, for that matter, to be able to make
improvements on any given ship. Research and development, alone, could do that
comfortably, over any period of time. Crew members are trained to be able to
survive, anyway, Aaen grinned.
"The
first officer also modifies the ship's two probe casings to be used either as probes, or high-yield anti-matter
torpedo warheads. Whoever chooses to
be the first officer will build and/or modify these casings before they are
transferred to the ship's one torpedo launcher to be launched. Keep in mind,
you only get two, so please use them
wisely. Next in the line of command is Tactical.
Tactical is responsible for defending the ship by operating Galileo's shields, cannons and torpedo
launcher. Your ship has the ability to sub-system target. If you are the
tactical officer on this ship, you will receive more specific and detailed
trained on that after you take your station. Next is Helm. Helm is responsible
for safely navigating and flying the ship using the ship's navigational computer,
maneuvering thrusters, impulse engines, and advanced translight drive. Operations is
the last in the line of command, responsible for making sure the ship is in the
right power mode, making sure power is diverted to needed systems at any given
time, balancing the power levels, and all external short and long-range
communications."
Aaen's
silent yearning developed into a swelling, burning feeling that started in his
head, travelling to his face, neck, and then went down into his shoulders, arms
and chest. But his gut told him something else was about to happen—
"Captain. .Marissa,"
Marissa—a
short, dark-haired, Caucasian young woman about five-foot-five-inches in
height—raised her hand for a moment in acknowledgment. Aaen silently protested
her decision, but held back and respected it, given the chain of command and
the bridge position assignment system that was in place. He felt jealous, and
envious of the fact, but stayed in the at-ease stance and observed the
proceedings.
"—Ah,
you are the senior-ranking crew member for this flight. I'm assuming you want
to captain the Galileo?"
Marissa
paused for a moment, then directly and authoritatively replied, "Yes, Admiral."
Admiral
Carrell turned slightly, took the first uniform off the top of the stack and
tossed it to her.
Marissa
donned her uniform in seconds.
Aaen
curiously eyed the assigned uniform and noted the uniform's design was very different than any other he had
seen before. If the crew were to be captured, the captors probably wouldn't
recognize the crew for who they really were. Granted, there are the hull
markings along the side of the hull: the red delta shape on its side with two
long red streaks implying speedily moving forward, and as always the ship's identifier
and registry, but one could assume they were faked given the little tidbits of
misinformation already evident in such an event . . . Aaen grinned for a
moment, surprised at a minor but sharp swell of curiosity in his mind as to
what might actually happen, but pushed the idea out of his mind and focused on
the more exciting aspect of being part of a crew on this ship . . . working under
the radar, so-to-speak. He optimistically, silently asked himself about how
the mission might go, and what he and the rest of this crew were about to accomplish, regardless of who was in
the center seat. No mission was all about any one particular crew member.
Success of the mission, in general, Aaen knew, was always dependent on the sum
of the collective's efforts. His mind flooded excitedly with ideas and
possibilities as to what might happen in the crew's mission in the next few
hours. He liked the notion, and the flurry of action possibilities his mind was
generating. He started subtly grinning, and decided he couldn't wait to get
on-board.
"Commander Jonathan?"
"I'll
be the First Officer for this mission." Jonathan nodded as he was given
his uniform.
Aaen's
name was called next. He wasn't immediately sure which job he wanted for this
assignment. The Captain was now no longer just a rank, and then the
second-in-command job had already been assumed.
Aaen
struggled to decide whether or not he wanted to be responsible for defending
the shuttle should the crew come under attack? Or if he wanted to function as
the pilot . . . Aaen silently asked
himself how good of a shot was everyone else on the crew, whether one was
ordered to target engines, shields, or something that would make a bigger,
crippling or outright destructive boom,
if need-be. Galileo looked as though
she were certainly capable of getting a bolt through a shielded area of a
target's hull if she needed to . . . They were both very tempting options . . .
so he knee-jerked his hand into the air in acknowledgment and replied, "I'll fly the shuttle, Admiral."
Aaen
was given his uniform, and he donned it quickly and anxiously. For a moment, he
was concerned that the rest of the crew and Admiral Carrell were looking at him
wondering why he was acting so sharply and jittery. He quickly realized they
weren't.
Next
was a Lieutenant-Commander Jensen (who didn't appear to be related to another
Jensen Aaen had worked with before), and then a Lieutenant Mason. The
Lieutenant-Commander chose Tactical, and then the Lieutenant was circumstantially
decidedly appointed to Operations.
Now was the
moment of truth.
"Alright,
captain and crew. Step inside." Admiral Carrell gestured for the crew to
proceed through the hatch.
Aaen
stopped to allow the captain and first officer to enter first. Aaen was third
in line. The air felt cool, and electrified; Aaen guessed the air was being
pumped through the hissing ventilation system that Aaen guessed was coming
through the ceiling and sides of the cabin. The attributed the electrifying
sensation to the fact no-one in the crew had ever expected—much less
anticipated—this auspicious opportunity. The silent rhetorical question rolling
through Aaen's mind like a watermelon rolling around in the backseat of a car
was whether or not this opportunity is an isolated one. His gut told him no. He told himself to stay focused, and
was awestruck at what came next.
Admiral
Carrell pointed out each officer to their stations. The aft computer stations rested
on a white triangular platform. The platforms were mounted on a cylindrical
beam extending about three feet from the floor. Aaen took his seat quickly and
pulled himself towards his station. The Helm and Operations' computers were
built into an upright white angled desk mount below the adjacent 24-inch main
viewscreen. He turned around to watch Tactical and Operations enter the bridge
and take their seats.
Aaen
sat in the front-right, Operations was to his immediate left about three feet
away. The Captain sat behind them in the center of the bridge, and then behind
her to her left was the First Officer. Tactical sat directly behind Aaen.
"Crew,
the computer equipment that you will be using will be much different than what
you've used in the past on other ships in the fleet, and you'll find these
computer controls and other equipment are significantly more sophisticated. In
front of each of you is a recording that will walk you through how to operate
this . . . unique shuttlecraft. Put
on the headphones, push play and listen to and follow along with the entirety
of your recording. Your recording will be collected when you're finished.
Begin."
Aaen
followed the instructions. Hello, and good
day, Helm . . . Aaen didn't know who the female voice was that was speaking
to him on his recording. As instructed, he clicked a command on the center of
the screen then typed his name and confirmed with the shuttle's main computer.
He was enabled to sign into his assigned computer station, and already, the
screen gradually changed. This was already turning out to be very different
than prior missions on the other main ships of the fleet. Admiral Carrell really wasn't kidding about this
shuttle.
Aaen
was wide-eyed at the sight of the looks of the controls. The recording
introduced the login screen, and then transitioned him to the first set of
computer controls—
What
the,
he thought wide-eyed, eyeing the gauges, meters, and other sophisticated
technical information on the screen. This
was no run-of-the-mill shuttlecraft, he decided. The Galileo was absolutely unique. He had never seen such a
technological configuration for a shuttle.
No wonder the very fact of her existence is classified so deeply! Aaen's
attention was brought to a circular controller divided between different
multi-dimensional directions: Forward,
Aft, Starboard, Port, Starboard-Yaw, Port-Yaw, Starboard Roll, Port Roll .
. . and the technical configuration was, well—he was instructed to click on a
few of thrusters. He clicked a few of them, and watched as three of the
directional indicators in the upper-left-corner of this screen shifted so
sharply, and the changes were so smooth! There was virtually no delay, at least
none that he could detect. He started to ask himself if Galileo might be more maneuverable than Odyssey . . . And that
bird could move! Odyssey's maneuverability rating ranked right up there with those
ships that were specially appointed to combat certain frequent hostile visitors
to the Union. Those response ships were capable of hairpin turning, even
at full impulse, and throw down enough fire to make anyone who watched the
in-flight footage want to laugh, and feel sorry
for those visitors! Aaen's gut told him this crew would soon know Galileo's true capabilities. He was as excited as he was nervous to learn more
about this technologically marvelous beauty—
The
recording directed him to the next screen, Docking Control. This appeared simple enough. In the center of the
screen was a white outline of the side of the ship. Beneath the outline were
twin, opposite-facing "L"-shaped clamps extending from the bottom of
the hull into twin directionally-opposing black crevices in the shuttle bay. A
single white rectangular button on the bottom-center of the screen read "Raise
Docking Clamps". As instructed, he clicked it. The clamps inched together,
and then rose into the hull. The button changed to "Lower Docking
Clamps". He clicked the button, and then the docking clamps lowered and
fit back into place.
The
next screen was Navigation Control. He
couldn't help but raised his eyebrows at this part of his job. This screen
featured a detailed graphical look at space through a square readout with a
white "+" shape extending to all four sides of the readout. At the
moment, it was still in the center of the square readout over an as-yet
unidentified nebula. On the right-hand-side of the screen, there was a small
rectangular space with a typing cursor blinking on the left end. Below the
rectangular typing space were two blue buttons with dark text,
"Clear" and "Calculate Course." The recording instructed
him to type in "Earth." He almost wanted to burst out laughing since Galileo was docked in Voyager's shuttle bay at the moment, and
this crew's mission was going to take them in the nearly-opposite direction. He
reminded himself this was just training and followed the instructions; then he
was instructed to click "Calculate Course." The square readout on the
left was immediately set in motion, as was a flurry of what appeared to be
flowing binary code directly below and gradually extended to the bottom of the
screen like a laundry list.
Aaen
noted to the left of the "Clear" and "Calculate Course"
buttons were three rectangular fields similar to the one that enabled him to
type-in a particular destination for automatic general navigation. Each field
contained a letter on the left-end, "X," "Y" and "Z,"
below each of these fields was a corresponding field. A light-blue dot rested
next to the "X" field.
The
left readout finished moving, and three sets of coordinates appeared on the
screen. Aaen's attention was directed to a small digital calculator-like
numeric keypad with a small curved arrow in the lower-right-hand corner of the
keypad. First, Aaen was directed to click the numbers displayed in the
"X" field, and then click the curved arrow button. Then, repeat this
process for "Y" and "Z," and then click the curved arrow
button again. All three fields were sequentially quickly highlighted in white,
then at the bottom of the screen another indicator read, "COURSE SET."
The
next screen was Engine Control. Aaen thought he had seen it all from the
previous missions he had participated in as a member of the crew. Galileo's impulse engine controls were
nearly identical in appearance to the Voyager's.
A horizontal blue-and-black gauge lined the top of the screen with numerical
indicators incrementally along a track of speed increment indicators, above a
graphic of the Galileo's twin glowing
Mark-VIIII translight drive nacelles. Galileo's translight capable, Aaen authoritatively
noted, sitting upright in his seat, admiring with a grin at the "Translight 9.95" in the upper-right-hand corner of the screen. On the bottom of the
screen, a similar series of meters also starting with "Full Stop."
Yeah, I guess that would be important. These meters were vertical, positioned
on the right-hand-side of the screen, and pertained to the Mark-VII impulse
engines whose graphic on the opposite side of the screen suggested what they
look like when they are revving at full power, judging by the bright,
light-blue aura blasting from the image of the shuttle's impulse manifolds.
Aaen marveled at the sight, and recalled most shuttles typically only run with
Mark-II or Mark-III impulse drives, and most other shuttles were larger than Galileo, and therefore offered engineers
more room to work with. Galileo had
more dynamic speed capabilities, 1/3
Impulse, 1/4 Impulse, 1/2, 3/4, Full,
Emergency . . . and Destructive. The
recording stated Emergency Impulse is
faster than its Full predecessor and would destroy the impulse manifolds in 60
seconds. 30 in the case of Destructive Impulse. 'Use either with great caution . . .' Let's hope we won't have to, Aaen
silently replied. Galileo could
either use Translight, or Impulse, non-consecutively. He felt an itch to see what
happened when any of the speed controls were selected. He clicked on the button
for Translight1, watching a thick yellow line extend from "Full Stop"
to the selected speed so quickly he nearly missed the sight. He clicked Translight Two . . . then Translight Five . . . then Translight Nine. If the line moved as quickly as she could respond . . . Aaen grinned,
admiring the two Translight coolant tanks in the lower-left-hand corner whose
contents were represented by blue-green lines similar to the speed meters. To
the immediate right of the coolant tanks were the heat gauges. Aaen noted the
faster the shuttle was traveling, the more quickly they heated up. As a
precaution, he clicked "Full Stop" on the Impulse and Translight drive
engines.
The
next screen was the last, Translight Core. Aaen
quickly scanned the screen and took a deep breath to relieve the sudden-onset
anxiety from realizing what he was enabled to do with these controls, were the
shuttle not in Training Mode.
The
upper-right-hand side of the screen featured a graphic of the Galileo's translight drive core: a tall, metal
orifice with a bright, gleaming center extending from the top to the bottom of
its metallic housing in the engineering compartment. Sucker looked mean as heck and looked like it was putting out a
comparable amount of power as a ship just
big enough for Galileo to dock
with. A single button read "Activate," whereas a second button on the
bottom center of the screen read "EMERGENCY EJECT". The recording
told him this button could only be used after the Captain and First Officer
gave their personal command authorization code to him as the ship's Helmsman. Once the core is ejected, the shuttle will
experience a complete power failure—including to life support—and everyone on
board will die from oxygen deprivation in 60 seconds, or freeze to death from
lack of heat if the translight core is ejected before switching auxiliary batteries.
But that much is the Operations Officer's job. For some reason, Aaen nodded
acknowledgment.
Well,
that's all, Helm. The recording concluded. Good luck on your mission. You may now stop this recording, remove your
headphones and standby for further assistance. He was fast to do just that,
putting his headphones next to his computer monitor and relished the sound of
the engines' lowly revving as they started up, and the air circulation system's
subtle hiss. Or was the revving because of the Voyager? he asked himself in silence. Could they be setting course
and going to translight? Maybe. Galileo was
still in training mode, which meant anything Aaen did with the shuttle's
engines wasn't official in real-time according the main computer, which he guessed
hadn't been activated yet. The whole point and purpose of training mode was to
learn without doing. After all, jumping to maximum translight as practice with the
shuttle bay door down . . . yeah.
A
male enlisted man wearing all-black clothing quickly entered the cabin,
"Do you have any questions about your station, Commander?"
Aaen
turned his head, "No. That'll be all." Petty Officer? The enlisted man's rank wasn't evident anywhere on
his uniform. Aaen wondered if that was on purpose for secrecy's sake because of
the fact the enlisted man happened to be assigned to help with the training for
this ship? Maybe, he told himself. Who knows? Aaen didn't bother asking, nor
did he try to mentally investigate the logic behind such an unofficially
official policy. As long as Aaaen was called by his rank as though by someone
of junior-rank, or specifically called 'Sir', he didn't care enough about the
de-facto fine print. Aaen briefly recalled he was getting closer and closer to
flag rank, and would at that point—at the very least—mean an increased
likelihood of first choice of ship choice and then subsequently job choice, or be
given an opportunity of any choice of big-picture command he wanted, whether
over an entire fleet, or a particular
ship . . . he donned an mental grin about what that could mean, but he
focused his attention on his immediate job as the Galileo's Helmsman. He recalled what an opportunity this was!
The
enlisted man took the recording and the headset and then stepped out of the
cabin into the shuttle bay's darkness and out of sight.
Aaen
looked over his shoulder at the rest of the crew. Tactical finished his
recording next and handed it to the same enlisted man who asked him the same
question. He asked a question about the shuttle's cannons and sub-system
targeting. The answer was provided quietly to not interrupt the rest of the
crew's training recordings. Aaen watched as the enlisted man pointed out
details on different areas of the screen and verbally explaining this or that
technical detail. The Lieutenant nodded acknowledgment then his recording was
taken off the ship.
Lieutenant-Commander
Jensen's recording was taken next. The Lieutenant-Commander had no further
questions. She looked around at Aaen, then at Tactical, with a surprised and
excited look.
Lieutenant
Mason looked at Aaen and Lieutenant-Commander Jensen and each quietly and
enthusiastically exchanged details about their respective job assignments.
Commander
Jonathan finished his recording next and surrendered it. "Woah!"
All
attention focused on him as the Captain finished her recording, and it was
quickly taken off the ship by the same enlisted man.
"What?"
Captain Maxon asked Commander Jonathan.
"This things sensors—both short and long-range . . . Wow!"
"How
good are they?" Aaen asked.
"Our
sensors; we can detect and track Voyager's
course for a full sector. More if we put a little more power in
the sensors."
Aaen
was shocked and surprised at the announcement.
Captain
Maxon looked around at Aaen, "How fast can we go?" she leaned toward
him.
"Captain,
Galileo could potentially out-run Voyager."
"Are you serious?" Jonathan asked.
"This ship's classification is perfectly justified. I'm pretty sure some of what this thing's equipped with
is probably either experimental, or—"
Admiral
Carrell crouched inside the hatch to the cabin, looking around as she said, "Captain and crew, training is now over.
You are now ready to operate your stations during your mission. However,
there's been a . . slight change in
your mission's flight plan. According to the bridge—who have been closely
monitoring the Neutral Zone since we beamed aboard—there's more Rotelan activity on the part of the border on their side of
the Neutral Zone, and their ships keep
dropping on and off Voyager's long-range sensors."
"What
does that mean?" Aaen asked boldly, emphatically and authoritatively.
"Good
question." she looked at him. "It means, Commander, that your
launch-zone has changed, slightly."
Great,
Aaen thought. The Rotelan have always had a reputation for treating darn-near
every situation like a giant Chess game—and a freakin' cunning one at that,
every time. This move was yet another piece inched across the 200-below playing
field, as it were. Their mainstream cloaking technology has always given them
an edge that only guarantee's a struggle for anyone outside of Rotelan space to
track. Sometimes it didn't matter if you could track their ships or not. One
had to be extremely careful when dealing with the Rotelan , even in the
recreation room their ships were both cunning, elusive, and, sometimes . . . deadly. Admiral Carrell's announcement
was only a confirmation of the first two points of otherwise common-knowledge.
"Voyager has been redirected to another
area on our border about five-light-years from your original launch-zone. Our
border tachyon detection nets haven't gone off, so it's reasonable to assume
they're not trying to invade our space—"
"Yet," Aaen interjected.
"Right," Admiral Carrell quipped,
"so it is absolutely crucial that you are ready to launch as soon as Voyager signals a 'Go.' That will come
through the Operations Officer, here," Admiral Carrell pointed to her. "As
of right now, assume the Rotelans haven't decided on a target for the test of
the Module Cloaking Device. And remember, your mission is to make sure they don't get a chance to use that device. Be
careful as you start for their space. As you can understand, Command isn't
going to bother trying to negotiate for your legal entering of the Neutral Zone—much less crossing their border
lines into their space. As far as we
can tell, they don't know about you or your ship, and they don't know your
coming. Try to keep it that way. You'll likely live longer."
Aaen
felt like someone dropped a cold blanket on his head, and he felt a swelling of
patriotic responsibility on his part to make sure they didn't run into . . . anyone—"
"Before
I go, does anyone have any-additional-questions?" she
looked around quickly, carefully at each crew member, stopping at Lieutenant
Mason. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"About
the stealth system, how does
tha—"
"You're
stealth system is automatically activated after
you activate your main computer and
reset all computers to Flight-Operational-Mode. After you
launch, and Voyager or your ship
translights away, you're a ghost story. The
important point to keep in mind is if you get
too close to another ship, there is a
significantly higher probability of your being detected. Crew, remember,
this is essentially a black operation, and
that this shuttlecraft is unique in
all of its technological functions and capabilities. Whether or not you survive
this mission is entirely dependent not on all of the highly-advanced—and possibly experimental—technology in
front of you or otherwise integrated into your ship, but on how well you work
together as a team when using all of the
technology you have at your disposal. Then again, you probably already know
and understand that much, so, without further delay . . . captain and crew, good luck." she said directly.
Grinning, she continued, "We'll hopefully
be seeing you all again, soon. Captain,
you'll be needing this." Admiral Carrell handed her a thin white binder whose
cover featured the Galileo's crest, ship name, and registry in
large black bolded lettering.
Aaen
watched through the corner of his eye as Admiral Carrell stepped back, off the
loading ramp, then with a command to a control terminal outside, the boarding
ramp to gradually rose until the hatch fit into its frame.
A
subtle, abrupt series of metallic clicks told
the crew the cabin had been sealed. This was followed by a few anxious gasps
from a few other crew members.
Going
behind enemy lines . . . Aaen enthusiastically looked at
the Galileo's crest on the main viewscreen with an
excited, determined grin.
Version
3, updated 01/24/2018:
Admiral
Carrell browsed through each dossier, stopping at the second in the stack. Aaen
also noticed there was a stack of finely-folded, darkly-colored uniforms
resting on the center of the port translight nacelle. He wondered which one was
designated for they would either be chosen as the crew's captain, or if it
would be up for selection by a member of the crew.
Aaen
silently yearned for the ship's center seat. It was, after all,
what he was trained for, fundamentally. Besides, who wouldn't want to command
such a ship? he silently asked himself. He thought back to all those recreation room simulations, all of which were designed to test individual command and character
traits to determine suitability for future consideration. They had to
have meant something for him and his career. The simulation
instructors always had good things to say about his performance, putting it
mildly, his gut agreed with his head on that point. His forehead felt warm
suddenly, a sensation that traveled down his face to the base of his throat.
The instructors' always reviewed his ability to not just command, but to unite the
crew into becoming a more coherent and functional team. Aaen recalled
having been cited as being able to recognize the difference between a crew and
an otherwise ordinary group of people trying to accomplish a common goal was
comparable to the difference between a bus full of people on their way to
school, and a professional orchestra that travelled by the same means. At
times, he observed other command-hopefuls with other trainees on the sidelines
to better learn others' strengths and weaknesses, and perhaps modify one's
command strategies and tactics based on any self-determined need to adopt what
seemed to work compared and in contrast to something one may have done that
lead to a variably different result.
"Captain.
.Marissa,"
Marissa—a
short, dark-haired, Caucasian young woman about five-foot-five-inches in
height—raised her hand for a moment in acknowledgment. Aaen silently protested
her decision, but held back and respected it, given the chain of command and
the bridge position assignment system that was in place. He felt jealous, and
envious of the fact, but stayed in the at-ease stance and observed the
proceedings.
"—Ah,
you are the senior-ranking crew member for this flight. I'm assuming you want
to captain the Galileo?"
Marissa
paused for a moment, then directly and authoritatively replied, "Yes, Admiral."
Admiral
Carrell turned slightly, took the first uniform off the top of the stack and
tossed it to her.
Marissa
donned her uniform in seconds.
Aaen
curiously eyed the assigned uniform and noted the uniform's design was very different
than any other he had seen before. If the crew were to be captured, the captors
probably wouldn't recognize the crew for who they really were. Granted, there
are the hull markings along the side of the hull: the red delta shape on its
side with two long red streaks implying speedily moving forward, and as always
the ship's identifier and registry, but one could assume they were faked given
the little tidbits of misinformation already evident in such an event . . .
Aaen grinned for a moment, surprised at a minor but sharp swell of curiosity in
his mind as to what might actually happen, but pushed the idea out of his mind
and focused on the more exciting aspect of being part of a crew on this
ship . . . working under the radar, so-to-speak. He
optimistically, silently asked himself about how the mission might go, and what
he and the rest of this crew were about to accomplish, regardless
of who was in the center seat. No mission was all about any one particular crew
member. Success of the mission, in general, Aaen knew, was always dependent on
the sum of the collective's efforts. His mind flooded excitedly with ideas and
possibilities as to what might happen in the crew's mission in the next few
hours. He liked the notion, and the flurry of action possibilities his mind was
generating. He started subtly grinning, and decided he couldn't wait to get
on-board.
"Commander Jonathan?"
"I'll
be the First Officer for this mission." Jonathan nodded as he was given
his uniform.
Aaen's
name was called next. He wasn't immediately sure which job he wanted for this
assignment. The Captain was now no longer just a rank, and then the
second-in-command job had already been assumed.
Aaen
struggled to decide whether or not he wanted to be responsible for defending
the shuttle should the crew come under attack? Or if he wanted to function as
the pilot . . . Aaen silently asked himself how good of a shot
was everyone else on the crew, whether one was ordered to target engines,
shields, or something that would make a bigger, crippling or outright
destructive boom, if need-be. Galileo looked as
though she were certainly capable of getting a bolt through a shielded area of
a target's hull if she needed to . . . They were both very tempting options . .
. so he knee-jerked his hand into the air in acknowledgment and replied, "I'll
fly the shuttle, Admiral."
Aaen
was given his uniform, and he donned it quickly and anxiously. For a moment, he
was concerned that the rest of the crew and Admiral Carrell were looking at him
wondering why he was acting so sharply and jittery. He quickly realized they
weren't.
Next
was a Lieutenant-Commander Jensen (who didn't appear to be related to another
Jensen Aaen had worked with before), and then a Lieutenant Mason. The Lieutenant-Commander
chose Tactical, and then the Lieutenant was circumstantially decidedly
appointed to Operations.
Now was the
moment of truth.
"Alright,
captain and crew. Step inside." Admiral Carrell gestured for the crew to
proceed through the hatch.
Aaen
stopped to allow the captain and first officer to enter first. Aaen was third
in line. The air felt cool, and electrified; Aaen guessed the air was being
pumped through the hissing ventilation system that Aaen guessed was coming
through the ceiling and sides of the cabin. The attributed the electrifying
sensation to the fact no-one in the crew had ever expected—much less
anticipated—this auspicious opportunity. The silent rhetorical question rolling
through Aaen's mind like a watermelon rolling around in the backseat of a car
was whether or not this opportunity is an isolated one. His gut told him no. He
told himself to stay focused, and was awestruck at what came next.
Admiral
Carrell pointed out each officer to their stations. The aft computer stations
rested on a white triangular platform. The platforms were mounted on a
cylindrical beam extending about three feet from the floor. Aaen took his seat
quickly and pulled himself towards his station. The Helm and Operations'
computers were built into an upright white angled desk mount below the adjacent
24-inch main viewscreen. He turned around to watch Tactical and Operations
enter the bridge and take their seats.
Aaen
sat in the front-right, Operations was to his immediate left about three feet
away. The Captain sat behind them in the center of the bridge, and then behind
her to her left was the First Officer. Tactical sat directly behind Aaen.
"Crew,
the computer equipment that you will be using will be much different than what
you've used in the past on other ships in the fleet, and you'll find these
computer controls and other equipment are significantly more sophisticated. In
front of each of you is a recording that will walk you through how to operate
this . . . unique shuttlecraft. Put on the headphones, push
play and listen to and follow along with the entirety of your recording. Your
recording will be collected when you're finished. Begin."
Aaen
followed the instructions. Hello, and good day, Helm . . . Aaen
didn't know who the female voice was that was speaking to him on his recording.
As instructed, he clicked a command on the center of the screen then typed his
name and confirmed with the shuttle's main computer. He was enabled to sign
into his assigned computer station, and already, the screen gradually changed.
This was already turning out to be very different than prior missions on the
other main ships of the fleet. Admiral Carrell really wasn't
kidding about this shuttle.
Aaen
was wide-eyed at the sight of the looks of the controls. The recording
introduced the login screen, and then transitioned him to the first set of
computer controls—
What
the,
he thought wide-eyed, eyeing the gauges, meters, and other sophisticated
technical information on the screen. This was no run-of-the-mill shuttlecraft,
he decided. The Galileo was absolutely unique. He had never
seen such a technological configuration for a shuttle. No
wonder the very fact of her existence is classified so deeply! Aaen's attention
was brought to a circular controller divided between different
multi-dimensional directions: Forward, Aft, Starboard, Port,
Starboard-Yaw, Port-Yaw, Starboard Roll, Port Roll . . . and the
technical configuration was, well—he was instructed to click on a few of
thrusters. He clicked a few of them, and watched as three of the directional
indicators in the upper-left-corner of this screen shifted so sharply, and the
changes were so smooth! There was virtually no delay, at least none that he could
detect. He started to ask himself if Galileo might be more
maneuverable than Odyssey . . . And that bird
could move! Odyssey's maneuverability rating ranked
right up there with those ships that were specially appointed to combat certain
frequent hostile visitors to the Union. Those response ships were capable
of hairpin turning, even at full impulse, and throw down enough fire to make
anyone who watched the in-flight footage want to laugh, and feel sorry for
those visitors! Aaen's gut told him this crew would soon know Galileo's true
capabilities. He was as excited as he was nervous to learn more about this
technologically marvelous beauty—
The
recording directed him to the next screen, Navigation Control. He
couldn't help but raised his eyebrows at this part of his job. This screen
featured a detailed graphical look at space through a square readout with a
white "+" shape extending to all four sides of the readout. At the
moment, it was still in the center of the square readout over an as-yet
unidentified nebula. On the right-hand-side of the screen, there was a small
rectangular space with a typing cursor blinking on the left end. Below the
rectangular typing space were two blue buttons with dark text,
"Clear" and "Calculate Course." The recording instructed
him to type in "Earth." He almost wanted to burst out laughing
since Galileo was docked in Voyager's shuttle bay
at the moment, and this crew's mission was going to take them in the
nearly-opposite direction. He reminded himself this was just training and
followed the instructions; then he was instructed to click "Calculate
Course." The square readout on the left was immediately set in motion, as
was a flurry of what appeared to be flowing binary code directly below and
gradually extended to the bottom of the screen like a laundry list.
Aaen
noted to the left of the "Clear" and "Calculate Course"
buttons were three rectangular fields similar to the one that enabled him to
type-in a particular destination for automatic general navigation. Each field
contained a letter on the left-end, "X," "Y" and
"Z," below each of these fields was a corresponding field. A
light-blue dot rested next to the "X" field.
The
left readout finished moving, and three sets of coordinates appeared on the
screen. Aaen's attention was directed to a small digital calculator-like
numeric keypad with a small curved arrow in the lower-right-hand corner of the
keypad. First, Aaen was directed to click the numbers displayed in the
"X" field, and then click the curved arrow button. Then, repeat this
process for "Y" and "Z," and then click the curved arrow
button again. All three fields were sequentially quickly highlighted in white,
then at the bottom of the screen another indicator read, "COURSE
SET."
The
next screen was Engine Control. Aaen thought he
had seen it all from the previous missions he had participated in as a member
of the crew. Galileo's impulse engine controls were nearly
identical in appearance to the Voyager's. A horizontal
blue-and-black gauge lined the top of the screen with numerical indicators
incrementally along a track of speed increment indicators, above a graphic of
the Galileo's twin glowing Mark-VIIII translight drive nacelles. Galileo's translight capable, Aaen authoritatively noted, sitting upright in his seat, admiring with
a grin at the "Translight 9.95" in the upper-right-hand corner of the
screen. On the bottom of the screen, a similar series of meters also starting
with "Full Stop." Yeah, I guess that would be important. These meters
were vertical, positioned on the right-hand-side of the screen, and pertained
to the Mark-VII impulse engines whose graphic on the opposite side of the
screen suggested what they look like when they are revving at full power,
judging by the bright, light-blue aura blasting from the image of the shuttle's
impulse manifolds. Aaen marveled at the sight, and recalled most shuttles
typically only run with Mark-II or Mark-III impulse drives, and most other
shuttles were larger than Galileo, and therefore offered engineers
more room to work with. Galileo had more dynamic speed
capabilities, 1/3 Impulse, 1/4 Impulse, 1/2, 3/4, Full,
Emergency . . . and Destructive. The recording
stated Emergency Impulse is faster than its Full predecessor
and would destroy the impulse manifolds in 60 seconds. 30 in
the case of Destructive Impulse. 'Use either with great caution
. . .' Let's hope we won't have to, Aaen silently
replied. Galileo could either use Translight, or Impulse,
non-consecutively. He felt an itch to see what happened when any of the speed
controls were selected. He clicked on the button for Translight 1,
watching a thick yellow line extend from "Full Stop" to the selected
speed so quickly he nearly missed the sight. He clicked Translight Two .
. . then Translight Five . . . then Translight Nine. If the
line moved as quickly as she could respond . . . Aaen grinned, admiring the two
Translight coolant tanks in the lower-left-hand corner whose contents were
represented by blue-green lines similar to the speed meters. To the immediate
right of the coolant tanks were the heat gauges. Aaen noted the faster the
shuttle was traveling, the more quickly they heated up. As a precaution, he
clicked "Full Stop" on the Impulse and Translight drive engines.
The
next screen was the last, Translight Core. Aaen quickly scanned the screen
and took a deep breath to relieve the sudden-onset anxiety from realizing what
he was enabled to do with these controls, were the shuttle not in Training
Mode.
The
upper-right-hand side of the screen featured a graphic of the Galileo's
Translight drive core: a tall, metal orifice with a bright, gleaming center extending
from the top to the bottom of its metallic housing in the engineering
compartment. Sucker looked mean as heck and looked like it was
putting out a comparable amount of power as a ship just big
enough for Galileo to dock with. A single button read
"Activate," whereas a second button on the bottom center of the
screen read "EMERGENCY EJECT". The recording told him this button
could only be used after the Captain and First Officer gave their personal
command authorization code to him as the ship's Helmsman. Once the core
is ejected, the shuttle will experience a complete power failure—including to
life support—and everyone on board will die from oxygen deprivation in 60
seconds, or freeze to death from lack of heat if the translight core is ejected
before switching auxiliary batteries. But that much is the Operations Officer's
job. For some reason, Aaen nodded acknowledgment.
Well,
that's all, Helm. The recording concluded. Good
luck on your mission. You may now stop this recording, remove your headphones
and standby for further assistance. He was fast to do just that,
putting his headphones next to his computer monitor and relished the sound of
the engines' lowly revving as they started up, and the air circulation system's
subtle hiss. Or was the revving because of the Voyager? he
asked himself in silence. Could they be setting course and going to translight?
Maybe. Galileo was still in training mode, which meant
anything Aaen did with the shuttle's engines wasn't official in real-time
according the main computer, which he guessed hadn't been activated yet. The
whole point and purpose of training mode was to learn without doing. After all,
jumping to maximum translight as practice with the shuttle bay door down . . . yeah.
A
male enlisted man wearing all-black clothing quickly entered the cabin,
"Do you have any questions about your station, Commander?"
Aaen
turned his head, "No. That'll be all." Petty Officer? The
enlisted man's rank wasn't evident anywhere on his uniform. Aaen wondered if
that was on purpose for secrecy's sake because of the fact the enlisted man
happened to be assigned to help with the training for this ship? Maybe, he told
himself. Who knows? Aaen didn't bother asking, nor did he try to mentally investigate
the logic behind such an unofficially official policy. As long as Aaaen was
called by his rank as though by someone of junior-rank, or specifically called
'Sir', he didn't care enough about the de-facto fine print. Aaen briefly
recalled he was getting closer and closer to flag rank, and would at that
point—at the very least—mean an increased likelihood of first choice of ship
choice and then subsequently job choice, or be given an opportunity of any
choice of big-picture command he wanted, whether over an entire fleet, or
a particular ship . . . he donned an mental grin about what
that could mean, but he focused his attention on his immediate job as the Galileo's
Helmsman. He recalled what an opportunity this was!
The
enlisted man took the recording and the headset and then stepped out of the
cabin into the shuttle bay's darkness and out of sight.
Aaen
looked over his shoulder at the rest of the crew. Tactical finished his
recording next and handed it to the same enlisted man who asked him the same
question. He asked a question about the shuttle's cannons and sub-system
targeting. The answer was provided quietly to not interrupt the rest of the
crew's training recordings. Aaen watched as the enlisted man pointed out
details on different areas of the screen and verbally explaining this or that
technical detail. The Lieutenant nodded acknowledgment then his recording was
taken off the ship.
Lieutenant-Commander
Jensen's recording was taken next. The Lieutenant-Commander had no further
questions. She looked around at Aaen, then at Tactical, with a surprised and
excited look.
Lieutenant
Mason looked at Aaen and Lieutenant-Commander Jensen and each quietly and
enthusiastically exchanged details about their respective job assignments.
Commander
Jonathan finished his recording next and surrendered it. "Woah!"
All
attention focused on him as the Captain finished her recording, and it was
quickly taken off the ship by the same enlisted man.
"What?"
Captain Maxon asked Commander Jonathan.
"This
things sensors—both short and long-range . . . Wow!"
"How
good are they?" Aaen asked.
"Our
sensors; we can detect and track Voyager's course for a full sector. More if
we put a little more power in the sensors."
Aaen
was shocked and surprised at the announcement.
Captain
Maxon looked around at Aaen, "How fast can we go?" she leaned toward
him.
"Captain, Galileo could
potentially out-run Voyager."
"Are
you serious?" Jonathan asked.
"This
ship's classification is perfectly justified. I'm
pretty sure some of what this thing's equipped with is
probably either experimental, or—"
Admiral
Carrell crouched inside the hatch to the cabin, looking around as she said,
"Captain and crew, training is now over. You are now ready to
operate your stations during your mission. However, there's been a . . slight
change in your mission's flight plan. According to the bridge—who have
been closely monitoring the Neutral Zone since we beamed aboard—there's more Rotelan activity on the part of the border on their side of the Neutral Zone, and their
ships keep dropping on and off Voyager's long-range
sensors."
"What
does that mean?" Aaen asked boldly, emphatically and authoritatively.
"Good
question." she looked at him. "It means, Commander, that your
launch-zone has changed, slightly."
Great,
Aaen thought. The Rotelan have always had a reputation for treating darn-near
every situation like a giant Chess game—and a freakin' cunning one at that,
every time. This move was yet another piece inched across the 200-below playing
field, as it were. Their mainstream cloaking technology has always given them
an edge that only guarantee's a struggle for anyone outside of Rotelan space to
track. Sometimes it didn't matter if you could track their ships or not. One
had to be extremely careful when dealing with the Rotelans, even in the
recreation room their ships were both cunning, elusive, and, sometimes . . . deadly. Admiral
Carrell's announcement was only a confirmation of the first two points of
otherwise common-knowledge.
"Voyager has
been redirected to another area on our border about five-light-years from your
original launch-zone. Our border tachyon detection nets haven't gone off, so
it's reasonable to assume they're not trying to invade our space—"
"Yet,"
Aaen interjected.
"Right,"
Admiral Carrell quipped, "so it is absolutely crucial that you are ready
to launch as soon as Voyager signals a 'Go.' That will come
through the Operations Officer, here," Admiral Carrell pointed to her.
"As of right now, assume the Rotelans haven't decided on a target for the
test of the Module Cloaking Device. And remember, your mission is to make
sure they don't get a chance to use that device. Be careful as
you start for their space. As you can understand, Command isn't going to bother
trying to negotiate for your legal entering of the Neutral
Zone—much less crossing their border lines into their space. As far
as we can tell, they don't know about you or your ship, and they don't know
your coming. Try to keep it that way. You'll likely live longer."
Aaen
felt like someone dropped a cold blanket on his head, and he felt a swelling of
patriotic responsibility on his part to make sure they didn't run into . .
. anyone—"
"Before
I go, does anyone have any-additional-questions?"
she looked around quickly, carefully at each crew member, stopping at
Lieutenant Mason. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"About
the stealth system, how does tha—"
"You're
stealth system is automatically activated after you activate
your main computer and reset all computers to Flight-Operational-Mode.
After you launch, and Voyager or your ship translights away, you're
a ghost story. The important point to keep in mind is if
you get too close to another ship, there is a
significantly higher probability of your being detected. Crew, remember,
this is essentially a black operation, and that this
shuttlecraft is unique in all of its technological functions
and capabilities. Whether or not you survive this mission is entirely dependent
not on all of the highly-advanced—and possibly experimental—technology
in front of you or otherwise integrated into your ship, but on how well you
work together as a team when using all of the technology you
have at your disposal. Then again, you probably already know and understand
that much."
Yeah, probably. Aaen
silently agreed—
"Also,
everyone, please remember this is a black operation. Maintain radio
silence with the rest of the fleet until you return to the Voyager.
Their captain and first officer are the only ones who know you're on board, use
your ship's own short and long-range sensors to track Voyager's
movements until you notice it's time for launch. When you depart their ship, if
anything, you'll look like a simple innocuous sensor blip."
Aaen
nodded acknowledgment.
"So,
without further delay . . . captain and crew, good luck." she
said directly. Grinning, she continued, "We'll hopefully be
seeing you all again, soon."Admiral Carrell handed Maxon a
thin white binder whose cover featured the Galileo's crest, ship
name, and registry in large black bolded lettering.
Aaen
watched through the corner of his eye as Admiral Carrell stepped back, off the
loading ramp, then with a command to a control terminal outside, the boarding
ramp to gradually rose until the hatch fit into its frame.
A
subtle, abrupt series of metallic clicks told the crew the
cabin had been sealed. This was followed by a few anxious gasps from a few
other crew members.
Going
behind enemy lines . . . Aaen enthusiastically looked at
the Galileo's crest on the main viewscreen with an
excited, determined grin.
*****
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