Scorpion Relay - Part 10

Aaen began to silently wonder just how 'safe' they really were. . . well, the fact we haven't taken any fire means either we really haven't been detected, or we're being stalked—which means someone may know we're out here . . . but do they know who we are? His mind started to run wild with circumstantial possibilities. Maybe we just registered as a sensor echo? he mentally guessed, looking at Mason, who was going through her control screens as though looking for a clue to a puzzle.

. . .Our Translight signature would act like the thundering rumble of a motor on a boat to any other ship's sensors. Rotelan sensors are about as good as ours are, whether you happen to be flying in a highly technologically capable ghost story or not. Would this be a ghost story they would know about? Would they know how to detect this shuttle craft, specifically? he immediately doubted that thought—besides, the last thing the Rotelans would want is to be detected where they have no permission to be. The treaty was quite clear on that point, but were they likely to respect it? Well, we aren't, so wouldn't we want to be just as . . . cautious? No, he told himself, there is moral justification for us being out here where we 'technically' shouldn't be, even if we have to move in total secrecy to keep the peace. Well, at least for the moment, he reminded himself, recalling that special training in the simulator from year two. Tactically, they would want to think that the other side of the neutral zone knew as little about what they were doing as Intelligence wanted for Galileo's. That makes the Rotelans' movements here hostile, and they sure-as-shootin' would be quick to slyly disable, capture . . . or destroy anyone who they find is getting too close to the 'prize'. An apt simile, Aaen mused. The Rotelans are probably out sniffing around to see if anyone's snooping around. He reasoned they were as physically and technologically invisible as they are intended to be. So much the better. If they can't see us (they'd probably have already started shooting at us by now if they did), but we've detected them—we have the tactical advantage. Subconsciously, Aaen wondered how long they would be able to keep that advantage—

His thoughts shifted to Maxon—no, forget Maxon—he started to wonder about the first officer. Aaen recalled that the tip of the spear is meaningless unless the person throwing it can see ahead clearly, and know what decision to make and when to make it. Sometimes that means having the target identified by someone who might have a better situational vantage point and then having the target pointed out from over your shoulder, and a suggested course of action that might offer a better chance at keeping the people around you alive for that much longer. So far, every decision they made so far was tactically advantageous for both the crew and the mission. That thought helped him feel a sense of assurance that this mission might just have a chance. He always felt anxious when following orders because if he was following, the underlying point (and problem) was that he was forced to endure a lack of tactical and strategic control that otherwise made him feel confident, and professionally fulfilled, and powerful. Then again he never had any reason to believe differently in either of their command abilities. Maxon's uniform was one only given to those with similar training to himself, so he gave her credit for having the brains and the nerves match to carry the underlying burden that came with the chair she was sitting in—

As for Jonathan, Aaen was curious as to what kind of a command support he was going to be, beyond just calling out what he sees on his screen. Clearly, the fact he was given his choice of position meant someone had confidence in his abilities to lead, even if he wasn't strictly-speaking commanding—get a hold of yourself, Commander. The probe was the biggest threat right now. One ping, and this mission is—!

His chest felt heavy with anticipation, eyeing the distant twinkles of light in the vast distance . . . there's gotta be some way to neutralize the probe, or just get out of its field of detection. His mind ran rampant with cannon-centered options, and the desire to squeeze a proverbial trigger. He so badly wanted to give that order out of fear of being detected. He almost immediately looked at his control screen and turned his head sharply, subtly, as he fought those ideas,  considering how any weapons fire might be detected by a cloaked battleship. That's, again, assuming there was one out there operating under the same rules as they were, he told himself, looking over his shoulder at Maxon. She was focused on what was on the viewscreen. Understandably, Aaen reasoned. His instincts and his military leadership training both told him a tough call was coming up, and this ship, and her crew, and the fate of this mission, were going to linger by a thread.

If Maxon had any real brains, she would be trained to remain as elusive as possible. That would mean they would be dancing on egg shells to stay out of the probe's field of detection. Aaen decided if he were the first officer, he would advise Maxon to use the maneuvering thrusters to steer the probe into the planet's atmosphere. The next test would be to see if the blasted thing was programmed to detect hazards and then automatically navigate around even perceived hazards. A shuttle could make it through a atmosphere—even a dense, or turbulent, or straight-up hostile atmosphere—but a probe? A reconnaissance probe—at least by Federation standards—would be designed for stealth, and information gathering from close to long-range. But could a Rotelans reconnaissance probe survive re-entry? Aaen wasn't certain off the top of his head, but his gut told him it was a possibility, especially considering how much they didn't know about the probe and its configuration. So little is known about the Rotelans and their technology, much less any improvements they may have made over the years . . . he eyed the main viewscreen—but the majority of his attention was directed over his left shoulder, specifically at the conversation he anticipated to start between Maxon and Jonathan. Aaen sensed Maxon was asking the same question in her mind as he was in his—

"The probe's still moving—"

Maxon mumbled something under her breath as she rushed to stand behind Jonathan, looking at his screen over his shoulder. "Scan for its configuration. I wanna know if it's capable of detecting us."

"It might not have detected us, captain. It might just be on patrol in this area of space." Jensen suggested.

That answer wasn't good enough for him. Aaen snapped around and began double-checking the readings on his computer, pulling up and focusing on scanning the navigational data—shoot, he thought sharply—turning his head and subconsciously deepened his voice, "Captain, Translight engines are powered down, but we're still drifting. If the probe detected us, it will match our course and follow us until it gets close enough to scan us in-depth. If it gets close enough to detect us, all it takes is one scan and we're blown." That much was common sense, but he felt like it needed to be said. If that thing gets close enough to recognize us as a ship, instead of a freakin' sensor blip—

"—It's about five-hundred-meters out, and closing!"

Maxon took a deep breath, "Okay. Is it matching our course?"

Aaen noted building anxiety in Maxon's voice—fear. He looked at Maxon, watching a reflection of Jonathan's sensor screen in her eyes. One four-pointed star-shaped dot was moving towards the little white dot in the center of the pie-chart-like readout in front of Jonathan, representing the shuttle.

Aaen's facial expression shifted gradually from concern, to almost enraged determination. He noted in his right peripheral, Mason was looked at him with a scared look on her face, almost as if she was expecting, or at least hoping, he knew the answer. He was sure he did, but his attention was on Maxon, and his hands were on the controls, waiting for the order to snap—

"Four-hundred-meters!"

Aaen felt like his heart nearly jumped out of his chest from the announcement, and out of anticipation . . . C'mon. C'mon!—

"Three-hundred-fifty-meters—"

Aaen eyed his computer screen again. They were slowing down.

"It's at our four o'clock, at our starboard quarter," Jonathan declared.

"So it's behind us, now," Aaen said quietly. Jonathan nodded once in acknowledgement. He impulsively thought of using the cannons, but held back, "Captain, we should see if there are any indications of other ships out there." Aaen suggested. If we have to shoot that sucker down. . .

Maxon looked at him wide-eyed with a concerned look.

"The probe's changing course!" 

"—Where's it headed?" Aaen determinedly asked directly.

". . .It's turning towards us,"

Aaen made eye contact with Maxon.

"We can't risk being detected," she sat in her chair, "Helm, maneuver us into the planet's atmosphere. Thrusters only."

"—Aye!" Aaen replied sharply, turning around sharply. Here we go!

"Initial deep scans of that probe were deflected. I had to adjust the scanners and turn up the intensity of the scan to get through whatever's shielding it, but I've got the probe's configuration!"

"It's definitely a reconnaissance probe, and it's designed to get up close to get exact scans." he explained the technical details in greater depth. The probe was basically a close-range magnifying glass, apparently not as well designed to be undetectable as the ones we use, Aaen grinned.

"How close does it need to get?" Jensen asked.

"Fifty meters, and it's increasing speed."

"Commander?"

"Captain, thrusters are active. I'm taking us back to that planet."

The planetoid gradually re-entered the viewscreen from the right. Aaen felt pressed into his seat as he fired the forward thrusters.

"It's still following us!"

"How close is it?" Jensen asked.

"Two-hundred-meters,"

"Commander!"

"Mason, put more power in the thrusters,"

". . . Got it!"

The pressed feeling quickly, gradually got stronger. For a moment, the crew felt like they were sitting on a platform that was sliding on ice before gaining traction and stabilizing directional control. The planetoid was getting bigger in the viewscreen. Aaen felt like he knew what he was doing to keep the shuttle away from its pursuer, but with every mental tick of the clock, he wondered if he shouldn't recommend letting inertia carry them forward and just let Jensen do the rest with the twin cannon emitters. If that sucker's configured to pick up on metallic signatures (a category in which most space rocks would easily fit), and it sent out a ping to any ships that are tuned to receive signals from it, then a cannon blast might be considered a malfunction. He asked himself whether or not a spy shuttle's cannon would have been somehow modified to cover its tracks under any particular circumstance or situation. Maybe—just maybe—they wouldn't leave a traceable energy signature behind. . . He was strongly tempted to recommend to the captain to find out. If the 'thrusters-to-the-atmosphere' plan didn't work, then there had to be some kind of a contingency plan. Either way, the little voice in the back of his head he developed in third year told him, sometimes 'running' and 'hiding' didn't always work, and when that type of situation occurs—and it does, every now and again—then you have to consider the bigger-picture for the mission, and the greater good of those you're out there trying to protect.

Somehow, he knew that was the same thing that was going through Jonathan's mind, and Jensen's. That much was perfectly understandable. Jensen was there to fire up the targeting sensors, charge-up the cannon emitters and then lock-and-load. Mason was gradually coming to the same conclusion, Aaen noticed in the corner of his eye, but was typing up a new report for Admiral Carroll. He wished he was telepathic so he could compliment her good thinking, not to mention the timing of the first draft, and how quickly she was finishing the draft. That's what he would have done, he decided, were their positions reversed. If Command needed to get more discretely aggressive with the rest of the fleet, then this would be the message that would promise such a resolve. Any counter-action by the Rotelans would only act as an albeit subtle confirmation of what is already secretly known to be going on on the other side of the neutral zone. That could act as a prelude to war, but Aaen's gut hold him this wasn't an issue known to only one other intergalactic party. How could it be? he asked himself. It's not like other governments in the quadrant would be able to send in spies who could always stay under the radar, gather information, and report back without being detected. Command had friends, and they shared information with them as needed. It would be needed, right now, and there would undoubtedly be discrete behind-the-scenes discussions about fleet movements that wouldn't reach the public's ear, but the inner-circles of top brass of the military would know as far as was determined to be necessary—but to everyone else, it's just another day on the job. . . .

"It's still getting closer." Jonathan declared, this time much more darkly, "Only one-hundred-fifty-meters out!"

Shhhoot—now he was starting to sound like he was panicking! The cannon idea was starting to sound great, right about now. "—What's the distance to the planet?" Aaen asked sharply.

". . .Ten kilometers! The probe's a-hundred-thirty-meters out,"

Aaen snapped, "Captain, contrary to what I said before, we may strongly want to use the cannons!"

"Just keep on the thrusters, Commander,"

"Captain, we're barely staying ahead of that thing. If it gets close enough to determine we're not what we're trying to convince it we are, then we need another plan!"

". . .He might be right," Jonathan said.

"—If there's another ship out there—"

"—I don't think there is." Aaen felt uneasy about interrupting the captain, but continued anyway, rethinking his original anticipation of their counter-reconnaissance strategy, "If they're sending out reconnaissance probes, their ships are probably along the border waiting for an order to violate the treaty. With that module cloaking device getting prepped for a test run, they're going to do that anyway, so they probably wouldn't risk a more aggressive posture—much less a war—by sending cloaked ships out here. . ."

"—I think I know where he's going with this, captain," Jonathan interjected.

"You think it makes sense?"

". . .I think the odds might be in our favor for right now. That probe's increasing speed. It's only a hundred meters out."

"We've got fifty left before we're blown." Make the right call, captain! C'mon!—

"—I've got a long-range message ready for Admiral Carrell, captain,"

"Let me read it first, before you send that,"

"Aye—"

"—We're half-a-million kilometers from the planetoid,"

Maxon snapped, "Are we going to make it?"

. . .Jonathan's new expression didn't inspire confidence.

Maxon faced forward and planted her mouth in between her joined hands as she eyed the viewscreen—

"—It's gone!"

"WHAT?—" Aaen snapped.

"—WAIT! There it is!. . . Ugh! It's blurring on-and-off the sensors! It's a-hundred-seventy-meters out and holding,"

"Captain," Aaen said.

"Hold on! Standby." Maxon snapped.

Aaen felt like someone just punched him in the chest with bare knuckles, and his gut felt heavy, like it was sinking. "First Officer!"

Jonathan and Maxon exchanged a look. Another sensor alert sounded—Aaen's heart felt like it skipped a beat—

"We're less than a quarter-million-kilometers from the planetoid! We'll be entering its atmosphere in less than five minutes!"

"Are we staying ahead of the probe?" Mason asked frantically.

". . .Yeah. But just barely!"

Aaen started feeling dizzy, but tried to stay focused on getting to the planetoid he was eyeing on the viewscreen. At this distance, the planetoid nearly completely filled the viewscreen, and it was only getting larger. . .

. . .It's time to make a decision! Aaen started doubting whether or not they would be able to stay ahead of the probe for much longer. "Captain!"

"Tactical, charge canons to full-power. Helm, standby for radical maneuver pattern 'Delta'."

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

DANIEL STORM, a Jordan Foutin eBook, is available for $8.99 at any of these fine online retailers: 

smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)

apple iBooks (This link is best viewed on iPhone or iPad)

barnesandnoble.com 

scribd.com 

kobo.com

blio.com

Make sure to buy your copy today, and like and share!

Make sure to like the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest, including when DANIEL STORM will be available on Amazon.com for Kindle eBook and softcover! Coming soon!

Scorpion Relay - Part Nine

"I've decoded the message!" Mason declared. "Galileo, be advised: our Intelligence sources indicate the Rotelans are engaging in fleet movements near your planned flight path. At this time, there is no indication that they know about your location, or the fact you are en-route. The prize is still at mentioned location. The Rotelans do not have permission to enter the neutral zone. Please send regular encoded mission status updates. Good luck. Carrell. Out."

Another sensor alert. For some reason, this one caused a cold chill to slowly inch down Aaen's spine. He resisted the urge to shiver. After using about one-sixth of the available Translight flush coolant, the heat level dropped to 25%.

"—Woah! Hold on! We've got a contact at two o'clock. . . Looks like it's on a parallel course to ours. . . It's not moving very fast."

Maxon snapped. "Is it a ship?"

". . . Not sure. Right now it's just reading as an 'anomaly'."

"—Captain, that could be a ship." Let's hope it's not them, "We might want to adjust our heading, maybe even our speed. At Translight nine, our Translight signature's could make us look like a Christmas tree to anyone else's sensors, if they're sensitive enough." Maybe ours is masked by default because of the stealth system, he guessed.

"The contact's almost at our three o'clock. Still no apparent change in its course."

"—Jonathan, maximize sensor resolution and do a scan specifically on that sensor target. See if you can get its identification."

". . .Scanning. . . Whatever it is, it's reading as 'solid', but I'm not detecting any life signs."

"Is it moving?" Aaen asked directly.

". . .Yes!—In our general direction." 

"Helm," Maxon snapped. "All-stop!—Emergency stop!"

"—Roger that!" Aaen nodded abruptly, snapping, "Answering all-stop! Everyone, hold on!" His eyes followed the yellow bar gradually back to its origin on the screen as the hull came to a thundering halt. Aaen reasoned a telepath wasn't needed to interpret the emotional atmosphere now.

Maxon rushed behind Jonathan. "Where's the contact, now?—" Jonathan pointed it out, "Oh, crap—"

"Do you want me to charge cannons?" Jensen's voice sounded ready, concerned, and anxiously eager. His hands were readily at his computer's controls and he was looking at Maxon without so much as a blink.

Maxon extended her palm.

Aaen leaned firmly into the back of his chair as he looked over his shoulder at the back-left corner of the cabin. His eyes kept alternating hesitantly between Maxon and Jonathan. His first impulse was to fire up the engines again, maybe so much as to Emergency Translight, to bug the heck outta here. He told himself to wait. If someone else's ship is equipped with short-range sensors sensitive enough to detect us at whatever range we're currently at, going faster is only going to confirm their suspicions. The fourth-year at Highlight suggested a different tactic—

"It's getting closer—!"

"If that's another ship—particularly Rotelan—then we'll want to play 'dead-stick'."

Maxon looked confused, "—What?"

"'Dead-stick'—I can use the maneuvering thrusters to try to get us outta their sensor range."

"Please tell me you're not trying to be a hero, Helm."

"Seriously? I'm only trying to keep us from going from sensor myth, to fact." Aaen tried to say reassuringly.

She got the meaning, and looking back at Jonathan. "Quickly, how far out are they?—How far?"

"A million kilometers and closing,"

HOLY CRAP! Aaen silently yelled.

Jonathan looked up at Maxon, "—fast."

"Cannons?" Jensen asked more strongly this time. Aaen gave him an ugly look, but held back from saying anything.

". . . No weapons—yet." 

Aaen reaffirmed his hands' positioning on his computer controls in anticipation of what his gut suggested might happen next.

"Okay. Do it."

"A planet just appeared at our twelve o'clock, going to our one o'clock. It's speed is constant."

"I might be able to get us into that planet's southern pole, we can try to use the planet's gravitational field to mask our engine signature. First Officer, you got any kinda reading on who or what that sensor contact is?" He started the thruster maneuvers. He felt a little dizzy from the sudden, subtle hull movements. The floor vibrated mildly.

"—Negative, scan's almost finished."

"Computer, put the planetoid on-screen."

A few beeping sounds acknowledged the order and then the image changed.

Aaen hoped the first officer knew what he was doing with the scanners.

"—It's some kind of probe! Whoever launched it must have figured out a way to mask its origin. I'm detecting some kind of energy signature . . . more than one. It might be a tactical probe like they use on Magellan."

Really? "You're saying Magellan fired a tactical probe all the way out here and now it's tracking us?" Aaen asked skeptically.

"Based on this new data, I'd say it's Rotelan."

Go figure—

"It's got a class-six Translight core, got two plasma emitter arrays, a high-sensitivity forward sensor array, and high-yield self-destruct package!"

Yeah, that means its Translight-capable. Aaen reasoned, it's a freakin' reconnaissance probe! "Mason, you better get a message ready for Admiral Carrell." he tried to speak softly, but directly.

"Aw, crap,"

. . . This could be it, Aaen guessed. Reconnaissance probes usually are undetectable, and highly maneuverable, and can be extremely versatile in their function. The fact that this one got detected is because they probably wanted it to be detected. But why? he asked himself . . . They couldn't have detected us. He reasoned they probably didn't, but were trying to see if anyone was aware of the probe, much less willing to act on it. What could their plan be? . . . send a probe out into deep-space on what might appear to be a simple scientific research errange . . . we detect the probe, it reacts to us or our scanning beam, it threatens us (probably programmed to send a distress signal to its sender—probably a ship or listening post, or something a lot bigger) and then things escalate from there—

"It's changing course!"

Aaen snapped, keeping on the forward thrusters. "Tactical, hold your fire!"

"—What? Weapons aren't charged!"

Aaen leaned over to Mason and sharply pointed at her screen, "Put everything in the Translight drive into the thrusters. If that's a reconnaissance probe we need to be able to out-run it. If we shoot it down, whoever launched it will know someone's out here, and if it's the Rotelan, we're screwed—" putting it mildly.

"Okay—"

"Probe's at our four o'clock, and closing!" Jonathan sounded more frantic.

Aaen felt more pressed into his chair than before, a sensation that went away after several seconds.

"Where's the probe, now?" Maxon asked directly, looking at Jonathan's screen over his shoulder.

"It's still at our four o'clock . . . " he pointed it out on his screen, "and falling behind! Slowly.

"Have we been detected?" Aaen asked directly. How did it pick us up, initially? Aaen silently asked.

"The stealth system's still online." Jensen interjected.

". . . Doesn't look like it. We're over halfway to the planet's south pole, and the probe's not following us."

The cabin filled with cheerful whispers and gasps of relief.

—But for how long? Aaen wondered.

The main view screen gradually shrouded in the planet's shadow.

"Okay. no change in the probe's position relative to us, or the planet."

More celebratory gasps, this time Aaen joined in.

"Captain, it might be a good idea to go into silent running for a few minutes, just to be safe. If the probe's still passively scanning for us, it'll take a minute for it to be convinced that there's nothing there and then return to its original position in orbit of the planet." Assuming it's programmed to do that, "If we can get it to go to the other side of the planet, we can jump back into Translight and get back on course. If that thing's programmed to generate a sensor echo of itself, then we may only be waiting for it to come find us,"

"You're assuming it will," Jonathan questioned.

"I'm thinking it might, and we need to take every precaution we can before it may be too late,"

Jonathan sat in his seat and looked at his screen.

"I've got a coded message ready, captain."

"Standby, Operations."

Maxon looked at Aaen briefly, then at the main viewscreen . . . then she looked at Jensen. "Engage silent running," 

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

DANIEL STORM, a Jordan Foutin eBook, is available for $8.99 at any of these fine online retailers: 

smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)

apple iBooks (This link is best viewed on iPhone or iPad)

barnesandnoble.com 

scribd.com 

kobo.com

blio.com

Make sure to buy your copy today, and like and share!

Make sure to like the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest, including when DANIEL STORM will be available on Amazon.com for Kindle eBook and softcover! Coming soon!

Scorpion Relay - Part Eight

Another sensor alert, Jonathan snapped. He had the crew's full attention. "Alright, we're ten minutes out, captain." 

"Understood." Maxon sharply turned around, reading more of the same page (looked like the last one) in her binder, then looked up. "Crew, prepare for launch." she said authoritatively. "Helm, standby to open the docking bay door and release docking clamps."

Aaen turned around and began working on calling up the docking controls on his computer. Those launch actions were not exactly going to happen in a perfect sequence, but they are part of the launch process, he mused. The screens changed quickly. "Five minutes is gonna be cutting it pretty freakin' close, captain." he looked over his left shoulder, recalling part of year-four—"Most shuttles take almost ten minutes to get clear of the housing ship's sublight wake. This is gonna be close." But Voyager's not going to come to a full stop, they're just going to slow down just enough for us to launch . . . he recalled the rest of the flight plan. He took a deep breath and silently reassured himself that he could do this—

"Two-minutes-thirty-seconds to launch zone,"

Okay. Here we go, Aaen realized, anxiously adjusting the position of his hands on his computer controls. He hadn't piloted a shuttle a few years. His chest started to swell and burn with anxiety. He knew he was perfectly qualified. Piloting the Voyager was easy, from what he observed back when he was on the Voyager as the right-wing sensor officer, left. The ship did most of the navigational work. The entire process was an albeit simple question of knowing where you wanted the ship to take you, searching for the coordinates relative to your given location in space on a computer, doing a search, letting the ship's navigational array do some stargazing, then keying-in the coordinates provided by the computer, and then waiting for the decision about the ship's speed from whoever happened to be in command, then the ship essentially became a projectile for however long until the order is received to slow down, or stop. For a shuttle craft, the process was the same to an extent. The biggest difference is that the shuttle could dock and undock, so there was more to navigation than just searching for coordinates. You had to depressurize the shuttle bay, open the bay's doors, disengage the docking clamps, and then use the thrusters to slowly fly out of the bay. Although in this case, Aaen guessed, they might be using the sublight engines. He half-wondered if that was what Maxon was thinking at the same time as he was.

"—One-minute."

"Depressurizing docking bay," the loud sound of air being sucked out from afar filled the cabin.

". . .The shuttle bay's depressurized." Jonathan declared.

Aaen nodded, and then switched to the shuttle's docking controls. "All hands, brace for docking separation." he tapped the command. His computer briefly, quietly chirped, and then a repetitive hissing alarm gradually filled the cabin in waves, building up as the deck abruptly shuddered with the sound of metallic clashing. Aaen felt the shuttle subtly, smoothly shifting around for several seconds. He put his weight on his elbows to stabilize himself. "Undocking, complete." he declared, using the thrusters to stabilize the hull's attitude.

Now it was time to open the door and get underway. He switched to the thrusters screen and looked at Mason.

She nodded, "Okay. Here-goes."

Aaen leaned over to watch as she changed the screen on her computer to one with a large white square outlined in navy blue towards the center, with similar white button commands on the left of her screen, "Open Doors", and "Close Doors". She clicked the top button, then another alarm sounded as the white square gradually began to shrink into the top of her screen. Aaen observed the image on the main viewscreen changed at the same time—he could see the bright white, twinkling stars as they were becoming visible. The sight of stars was a proverbial emotional a breath of fresh air.

"Helm, use 'Up' thrusters," Maxon ordered—

I know how to fly the shuttle, captain. Aaen replied in silent defiance, focusing on the main viewscreen and his computer monitor. Besides, he was already halfway there. The shuttle bay was moving around a little on the main viewscreen . . . Aaen selected the forward thrusters, immediately feeling like he was being pressed into his seat as the docking bay disappeared.

". . . Alright, we're clear!" Jonathan announced. "Voyager's on our six, turning away from us on our port side." he looked at Maxon then continued, "Their initiating their high-intensity scan of the Neutral Zone."

Right on schedule, Aaen grinned—

Maxon looked at Aaen, this time speaking more calmly, but still directly, "Helm, set a course for Rotelan space."

Aaen nodded and carried out the order. In ten seconds, three sets of coordinates appeared. Aaen immediately keyed them in quickly, and then confirmed the new course with the main computer. Another series of abrupt, upbeat chirps confirmed the new course had been entered.

The crew could feel the hull automatically changing direction abruptly. Aaen was almost tossed from his chair, but held onto his side of the desk, watching the stars shifting out of view on the main viewscreen.

Aaen's grin got bigger.

Next, he switched to the Engine Controls screen and hovered over the Translight drive. Mason seemed to be handling the status-quo well, enough, Aaen reasoned.

"How fast can we go, Helm?" Maxon asked.

Aaen scanned his screen, noting the level of available power. "Right now, we've got enough power for Translight six." he looked at Mason. "If we're going to go any faster, you need to put more power in the Translight engines."

"Do it. I want Translight nine."

Nice! Aaen eagerly watched Mason shift the power levels between various systems, and then added more to the Translight engines, and then updated the power settings. His screen showed what Maxon wanted.

"Translight nine, Helm."

"Yes, ma'am!" he was quick to carry out the order, watching as a thick yellow bar quickly traveled from "Full Stop" to Maxon's order. "Translight engines are gonna heat up real fast at Translight nine, captain." Which might be an understatement, Aaen guessed.

A rumbling vibration filled the cabin for several seconds, a mechanical whine turned into a groan, then built to a roar—the main viewscreen flashed a booming white and then the stars became rapidly flowing streaks of light. 

"Voyager just disappeared off sensors."

Aaen looked over his shoulder at Jonathan with a look of surprise on his face. Jonathan nodded confirmation.

Aaen turned and eyed the Translight engine heat gauge . . . so far so good. The heat level was only at 3%. They wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of a dual-nacelle explosion until 95%—so far so good. His grin shrank somewhat. He was impressed at how well the Translight drive was handling this speed, but still felt obliged to follow the little voice in the back of his head that told him to keep an eye on the gauges. The Translight engine heat was gradually, steadily rising. . .

Another sensor alert. Maxon turned around in her chair. "At our present velocity, we'll reach the Federation Neutral Zone border in approximately, ten minutes."

Maxon turned to Jensen. "Is the stealth system online?"

"—The stealth system is online automatically, captain Maxon. It was activated after this ship was switched to flight-operational-mode." the AIU 3500 droned.

Maxon thanked the computer.

"Five minutes!—"

Another alert sounded, this time Mason's computer screen flashed white thrice. "New long-range message! . . . It's from Admiral Carrell. It's a long one."

Maxon looked at her screen. "Decode it as quickly as you can. Let me know when you're finished."

"Okay."

"How are the Translight engines doing?" Maxon asked more subtly.

"They're fine. I'm watchin' 'em."

"Good. Tactical, let's raise the shields. Jonathan, keep passive sensors set to maximum intensity. I want continuous scans for cloaked ships."

"Aye."

Even if we detected any cloaked ships, we're not tactically in a position to engage them, Aaen smirked—

"Are you planning on shooting at any, if we detect any?"

A good question, Aaen agreed, looking over his shoulder as if to indicate a silent seconding of the question.

"We'd have to get really freakin' close just to be in our weapons' range. By then, we'd also close enough to be detected by anyone if there was anyone looking for us out there."

Maxon hesitated before answering, "We'll let Admiral Carrell know if we detect any. One or a few ships won't stand a chance against even a small fleet."

That's assuming, any ships we detect are Rotelan. But there wouldn't be any point in them sending any portion of their fleet into our space. Stretching their fleet that thinly would be a serious tactical error. And if they were caught, that would more than likely start a war, which they would also want to avoid so they can focus on protecting what we're coming after . . . they'll be more worried about protecting their new technological gem, and any knowledge of its existence, Aaen reasoned. Aaen started to wonder why Maxon ordered the shields up. What's she thinking, or expecting to happen? Right now, as far as any ships outside of whatever close-range distance, we're a ghost story, at best . . .

"—We're three minutes away from the border. No signs of cloaked ships within a half-a-light-year. The Neutral Zone border's straight ahead at our twelve-o'-clock on long-range sensors. There are no other ships within our sensor range."

Maxon stood behind Jonathan and eyed his computer in surprise.

Aaen looked at Maxon, "Do you want me to slow us down?"

"How are the engines?"

Aaen glanced at his screen, "Heat level's at 15 percent."

"No. We keep going. Maintain current speed and heading—"

A sensor alert. "One-minute!" Jonathan declared.

Aaen took a deep breath as he eyed the stars streaking by—this will have been the first time he ever violated a treaty. Granted, this was a covert military action, which sometimes requires a bending of the rules to ensure the greater-good is served. In the back of his mind, he was almost chastising himself for what they were doing, and his role in it, and fretted the possible consequences, but he kept reminding himself of the fact, and why they were doing what they were doing. Even more than that, he reminded himself of what the new cloaking technology would likely mean for the Quadrant, in general . . . that, in Aaen's mind, was plentiful justification for—

Another sensor alert. Jonathan sat upright as he continued, "Entering neutral zone, in five . . . four . . . three . . . two—one!"

A chilling emotional shock swept through the cabin as the gravity of what was just announced. It was done. They had literally crossed that line, the line that has held supposedly helped keep the peace for so long. Aaen coldly realized that if Galileo were to be detected, here, this mission may become futile. The Rotelan would know the Federation knows, and would likely feel motivated to expedite what they are undoubtedly already trying to do. Aaen's breathing became more shallow as his arms felt like they were chilling as thoughts of deathly possibilities crossed his mind. . . No. That won't happen, he told himself.

Aaen's gut told him Maxon was thinking much the same thing as he was. Jonathan, too.

"Maintain continuous long-range scans for cloaked ships." Maxon ordered plainly, trying to hide an underlying anxiety-centered fear of the worst that might happen in the next—"How long 'til we reach the Rotelan border?"

Fifteen minutes, assuming we can maintain this speed. Helm, what are the engine heat levels right now?"

"—Thirty-five-percent. We can maintain Translight nine for longer if we use the coolant. Translight and Sublight engine coolant is different, and we only have so much of both. Once it's gone, we can only hope on the cold of space." That statement left a slightly foul taste in the mouth, but it was the truth. Once the heat levels reached the top of the gauge, they had anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute to decide whether or not to skid to a full stop, or risk a Translight engine implosion. If they were to be detected, or find themselves at risk of detection, being without Translight drive. . . Aaen's gut sank. This mission was becoming more a question of survival than infiltration and espionage. "I'll use the flush coolant to stretch out our speed. Once that coolant's gone, it's gone until we can find somewhere to resupply." But where are we going to find flush coolant for a spy shuttle all the way out here? These aren't typical Translight engines.

"—Ten minutes 'til we reach their border," Jonathan announced.

Aaen looked up at the streaking stars. Crossing such a massive length of 'neutral' space is one thing. . . That sinking feeling got worse. . . But how are we going to get through their border?

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

DANIEL STORM, a Jordan Foutin eBook, is available for $8.99 at any of these fine online retailers: 

smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)

apple iBooks (This link is best viewed on iPhone or iPad)

barnesandnoble.com 

scribd.com 

kobo.com

blio.com

Make sure to buy your copy today, and like and share!

Make sure to like the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest, including when DANIEL STORM will be available on Amazon.com for Kindle eBook and softcover! Coming soon!

Scorpion Relay - Part Seven

The command functions for his computer were darkened after the computer control network was reset. Aaen quickly clicked the white "Sign On" button sided by two small blue squares in the bottom-center of his screen. He typed his first and last name into the pop-up box and then confirmed the information with another click. His name immediately appeared in the bottom-center of the screen—his computer controls were again enabled, he grinned. He looked around to find the rest of the crew were getting the same result on their computers. Maxon looked at Mason's computer with a straight, determined face, then at Aaen's, then looked behind her. Jonathan and Jensen both looked at her and nodded in-turn with determined looks on their faces. Jensen looked more cautious, in Aaen's opinion, but kept to himself.

Maxon turned the page in her binder, scanned the top of the page and then looked at Jonathan, "Okay, Commander, do we have eyes on what's going on outside?"

". . .Checking . . ." Jonathan read his screen, typed in a scan subject and then did a scan. Seconds later, he turned his head and said, "short-range sensors show the shuttle bay's all-clear."

Maxon turned to Mason. "Can you monitor their communications?"

"We can, but I can only put whatever might be picked up on speakers."

Aaen noted there were two at the front of the cabin, one discretely embedded on each side of the main viewscreen. Looking around to see if he could find any others, there was a third, larger speaker in the back wall of the cabin between Jonathan and Jensen.

"Okay, don't worry about that right now. Jonathan, what's our current location?"

"Scanning. . . we're in Federation space, about two parsecs from our projected deployment zone."

"Where exactly is that? Are we moving?" Aaen asked.

"Voyager's adjusting their course as we speak. They're moving at half-impulse . . . woah—okay, according to readings from their navigational array, we're headed to the edge of the Federation-Neutral Zone border. The Rotelans might detect Voyager where they're taking us," he started turning his head, "but we're so small we probably wouldn't even be a blip on their radar."

That's assuming they're even monitoring that particular part of the border, Aaen silently offered, which would mean that they would have to have ships close enough to their side of the border to even notice there are any ships there at all, provided they were as detectable as a ship as huge as Voyager.

Aaen gasped out of skepticism. Even as many ships as the Rotelans may have, to cover that much space would still be a stretch—even for them. And even if they did detect Voyager, whether the Rotelans happened to be cloaked or not, Galileo is so small, and with her stealth capabilities, detecting her, even with a sensitive long-range sensor array from a battleship, the odds are optimistically astronomical that they would have any clue that we were even out there to begin with. Aaen felt something bluntly slug him in the chest with the realization of another possibility: then again, the Intelligence report didn't mention whether or not they had made any significant upgrades to their fleet's sensors to make them more sensitive to what we are about to attempt . . . . Aaen had faith in this shuttlecraft, but couldn't help but acknowledge the lingering, haunting thought now rolling around in the back of his mind, the existence of which he did not acknowledge with so much as a change in facial expression. For an instant, he reasoned the rest of the crew probably would appreciate knowing the Helmsman for this mission at least looked strictly confident about what might be to come—

—One shuttlecraft against one battleship. Yeah, Aaen dug deep into his psyche to figure out if he felt confident enough to pilot this craft around long, dense, high-intensity particle beams and high-velocity anti-matter warheads, if that became necessary, if they happened to be detected. Hmph! This shuttle's practically a high-velocity anti-matter warhead! Aaen switched to the thruster control screen and reviewed in admiration the technical readouts specifying the shuttle's maneuvering capabilities. Even at high-impulse, this baby'll darn-near outrun and/or out-maneuver anything that anyone else that dares shoot at us! Much less try to establish a weapons lock! Somehow that came as significant reassurance. No problem, Aaen told himself. Right now, he just wanted to get out there and—with some ego—decided he wanted to find out what it was like to play cat-and-mouse, and find out just how big and dark a shadow those batlteship really cast. "You're sure about that?" Aaen asked. "How close would we have to be to another ship for them to be able to detect us?"

"—Really close."

"Give me a number." Maxon quipped. Jonathan gestured for her to come to his station. He pointed in a circular motion to something on his screen. Maxon's expression changed to surprise.

She looked at him, "Serious?"

"Until this point, we're basically invisible to any other ships, even our own fleet."

"Does that include Voyager?" Aaen asked irresistibly.

Jonathan nodded and replied, "—Anyone."

"So what if we were to dock—"

Maxon waved her off and returned to her chair and faced forward. "Operations, do we have a secure comm-link to Intelligence' database?"

Mason switched control screens, read the answer, and then turned around. "Yes. Intelligence has their own frequency, which can be used for long-range communications, whereas all the other frequencies are restricted."

These people aren't kidding around, Aaen reasoned.

A sequence of identical beeping sounds flooded the cabin.

"What was that?" Aaen asked, looking around.

"Sensor alert: Voyager's changed course. They're increasing speed." Jonathan announced. "Several other ships just passed by. We weren't detected, captain."

Aaen couldn't help but ask, "Can Voyager detect us?"

Jonathan looked at his screen again, and then back at Aaen as he turned his head and looked up, "There's no such indication."

Interesting . . . on a ship manned by over a thousand crew members, only two know about Galileo's presence on-board. This made him wonder about A Cry from the Dark—

"Mason, are we getting anything on long-range?"

She checked her computer—"Yes. Captain, Intelligence sent us a written message." Maxon leaned toward her as she continued reading aloud, "To: USS Galileo, From: S.F. Intelligence . . . Voyager has been authorized to exceed Translight-factor-six for its role in the purposes of this mission. You will receive a long-range message from Voyager's captain as your signal to launch. It will be up to you to undock and navigate away from Voyager at that time without coordinating your departure with Voyager as per normal shuttle launch procedure in order to keep other personnel who are not cleared to know about this mission in the black. Further messages to and from us will be encoded to further ensure mission secrecy."

Wow. Aaen silently remarked at the apparent reality of the fact. His chest suddenly felt heavy—

"We will be coordinating directly with you as your mission progresses, relaying any new Intelligence gathered by our assets within the Rotelan Empire. Be advised: all other fleet-wide ship-to-ship communications between you and the rest of the fleet are hereby restricted until further notice."

—WHAT? Aaen turned sharply at what they had just declared. His first mental reaction to this new mission directive nearly sparked a strong verbal response, but he held back.

"Good luck, Galileo. S.F. Intelligence - Out . . ." she turned around. "That's it. That's the end of the message."

How in the—what if we need backup? he silently wondered. This thing might be tough, heck she might even be the most elusive spacecraft ever engineered by a humanoid race! But how far does that go if the Rotelan were to detect us? Particularly on this mission where we have no clue where their fleet's located at any given time. If we're surrounded by battleship from multiple directions—or every direction, for that matter—are they really going to leave us out there to fend for ourselves? One highly-impressive shuttlecraft versus . . . one battleship? Sure, Aaen was confident he could out-maneuver one. What about two? he asked himself. What if two battleship decloaked with a weapon lock already on us? From the moment the captain ordered red alert, to the time Jensen could raise the shields, charge cannons and then work with the first officer to put a couple of high-yield warheads together. . . Rotelan battleships are capable of turning at a rate of about five-degrees-per-second-per-second, and climbing and descending at roughly the same rate. Maybe a little faster if they were moving at about half-impulse. Aaen guessed in his mind what a combat situation might be light between the shuttle and a couple of big green flying cities armed with mostly high-caliber weaponry. He recalled year three's classes that covered this particular topic—the biggest weapons threat on a battleship is its nose, which houses their powerful Mark-XIII plasma-antimatter torpedo launcher, which is capable of firing either a warhead, or a directed pulsating energy beam, if modified correctly—like firing pulsating bolts of bright-green lightning. Same weapon, but hitting the target with the same force as an energy beam, but multiple times within a few seconds. The Rotelan battleship was basically the Rotelan equivalent of a Galaxy-class starship. Heavily-armed, but with an elusive edge no Federation ship had because of that quaint little treaty. So an ambush would be a tactically sound plan. Granted, this ship is obviously smaller than a battleship, and tactically outmatched, Aaen acknowledged. Hmph. Outmatched. If the shuttle were to come under attack, Aaen decided their best chance was not a direct engagement. The mouse isn't realistically going to put up any kind of fight with the cat, Aaen reasoned. But she's small enough that they could out-maneuver them, should the Rotelan engage. But Rotelan torpedoes can track their targets, he recalled . . . and their weapons maneuvered much more sharply than their ships did. Heck, their weapons could nearly be classified as the 'fire-and-forget' type, which is pretty close to what this shuttle was capable of in terms of its maneuverability. He subtly gasped. Okay, so I guess we just 'wait-and-see'? Aaen asked in silence.

Maxon gasped at the main viewscreen. Aaen recognized that gesture. What the rest of the crew just heard was not cowardice, but a greater realization of just how much was at stake. This was a realization even he came to and started wondering what may be becoming known even as they were waiting for their 'signal' to depart—

—With that, Aaen started wondering if or how to open this particular shuttle bay's door, or if the doors would be opened by some other 'discrete' means. His gut told him that would be something Galileo would handle—he reasoned that would be the case, probably to keep the knowing command crew from being distracted. One less hint for the rest of the crew that something else was going on that they didn't know about. They probably wouldn't care, much less notice anything significant enough to spark their curiosity later on. Good, Aaen decided, so much the better.

Another alarm filled the cabin. This alert was different than the one that signaled a sensor alert. Mason reacted immediately as her computer screen flashed white thrice.

"'nother message, captain. It's from the Voyager captain."

"Go ahead, read it."

"Uhh . . . it says, Voyager will enter high-Translight, and then stop at destination for a 'routine sensor scan' of the Neutral Zone for the distance of about a half-parsec. You will have a window of five minutes to launch for the duration of the scan. You control the launch door and will oversee your own departure. As soon as you depart and are clear, Voyager will change course Translight away from the departure sector. There will be no further communication between us after that point. You'll be on your own. Voyager, Captain. Out."

The air again felt chilled. Aaen looked over his left shoulder and noticed electrifying looks being exchanged between different crew members surrounding the captain. Maxon continued reading through her binder, quickly fingering her way down the rest of the page she was on.

"Jonathan, where are we at right now?"

His screen already flashed thrice. He read something in the lower-left-hand corner of his screen, and then replied, "Voyager's at Translight-factor-nine-point-nine-six-two . . . Looks like we're on our way." he grinned. The expression was short-lived.

Aaen admired the exactness of the readout, and the apparent speed they were traveling at. Considering what Galileo's maximum safe Translight speed was, he reasoned Galileo didn't just launch and Translight away originally—instead of getting a de-facto ride with Voyager for some part of the way—is because, he recalled, Voyager has a more powerful Translight drive than they did. A class-twelve Translight core is faster than what Galileo was equipped with. Time is of the essence—

Maxon turned to Jonathan. "How long until we reach our deployment point?"

His response was more direct and determined, "If our speed remains constant . . . about thirty minutes."

"—Nothing new from Intelligence, yet, captain," Mason announced, anticipating Maxon's next question.

Another sensor alert sounded . . . "Okay, as of right now we're twenty minutes out."

Jeez! Aaen thought wide-eyed, for a moment. We're rippin'! Aaen silently thought, admiring Voyager's speed. For an instant, he wondered why they weren't traveling at Translight nine-point-nine-nine-five, but dismissed the question, choosing instead to remain focused on his gut told him was coming—

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

DANIEL STORM, a Jordan Foutin eBook, is available for $8.99 at any of these fine online retailers: 

smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)

apple iBooks (This link is best viewed on iPhone or iPad)

barnesandnoble.com 

scribd.com 

kobo.com

blio.com

Make sure to buy your copy today, and like and share!

Make sure to like the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest, including when DANIEL STORM will be available on Amazon.com for Kindle eBook and softcover! Coming soon!