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."

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