Aaen took a deep breath as his chest started to burn with terror and excited anxiety. At this moment, an empath wasn't needed to know the crew felt like they were being stalked, given the intermittent bouts of stuttered breathing all the while working on tip-toeing out of the way of a freakin' flying metal detector with a 'magnifying glass' that could probably read the rank insignia on ones collar, were it to get close enough. The thought scored Aaen's mind more than once in a question of seconds, and left a sensation he didn't like, and an impression that made him feel like he should take command and just order the shuttle to do a hard-180-degree turn and blow the crap out of that probe! But he wasn't in command, and he wasn't about to overstep his bounds. He was going to fly this thing, and do his blasted darndest to stay away from the metal intergalactic shark that was tailing them. That's what royally sucked about not being in the center-seat, he decided—the lack of being able to decide one's course and therefore have more control over your own fate, when your instincts, and every molecule of your body, tell you that you should be in that seat. For an instant, he considered whether or not they were doing the right thing or not, and then decided it didn't matter at this point. The hull began to subtly vibrate a little, which meant they were getting close to kissing the planet's atmosphere. This realization enabled him to comfortably grin, though he was still felt very anxious, determined, and started to feel enraged. This caused him to look at the viewscreen in the corner of his eye and glare at the bright, and seemingly dead rock in space ahead resembling Mars that had an atmosphere.
Aaen determined the approach angle was too steep, and what were subtle vibrations were gradually becoming more stern, rapid and violent—
"—Steady!" Maxon commanded.
They were started to experience turbulence. Aaen quietly accepted the instruction from his senior commanding officer but disregarded the underlying sound of panic in her voice.
Aaen recalled part of year-four. He needed to adjust their re-entry angle to reduce the hull stress, and the odds of breaking up in the atmosphere or making too big of a splash on any other ships' sensors, whether long or short range. And if they already had stepped on that twig, then they needed to be as hard to see as possible if there was a starship captain out there who Command would prefer not see them in case that captain ordered them on-screen. Yeah, that would be bad, Aaen reasoned, particularly if they gave the order for magnification on the visual subject. . . He had to act fast, and tactfully—
A fire began to engulf the forward section of the hull as they pushed deeper into the outer atmosphere like the command module of an ancient tin-can-like spacecraft Earth used to use to send men to the Moon and back way-back-when. Aaen adjusted the thruster controls with speed and precision and watched the planetoid shift back out of the viewscreen by a few inches. The turbulence wasn't making this any easier, and he began to remember all of the animated simulations showing all the different ways a shuttlecraft could turn into a really-freakin' expensive firework show if this wasn't done correctly—
"Jensen, are the shields up?"
". . . Yes!"
Okay, that'll help keep the hull stress down and help deflect some percentage of the heat off the hull—
"Hull temperature is climbing slowly, but steadily. We've got about five more minutes before we have to pull away, or go through the atmosphere." Mason announced.
Yeah, this is like trying to put your hand a few inches over a hot stove and hope you don't get burned, except for the fact this 'hand' has shields, and a metal skin unlike any other ship in the fleet, Aaen recalled. Any doubts he had before about the shuttle's survivability, in general, went almost completely right out the proverbial window! His grin got bigger, and then his mind turned to Jonathan—
"Is it following us?—" Aaen looked over his shoulder at the back of the bridge for an instant amid building turbulence, "First Officer?—"
"—Jonathan!" Maxon yelled, struggling to stay in her seat.
". . . Yeah—urgh!—it's following us!—"
Well, let's hope it doesn't have an active visual sensor array! Otherwise, we're all screwed! Aaen realized darkly.
"—It's following us into the atmosphere! It's riding on the edge of our wake into the atmosphere!"
"That means it's dealing with twice as much turbulence as we are! . . ." Aaen struggled to stay upright, and he could feel the hull starting to subtly sway and fishtail. He adjusted the controls in a gradually-building struggle to stabilize their heading, and to better enable himself to stay upright, which was proving to be a struggle in-and-of-itself. Shoot!
"Hull temparture's still rising!" Mason declared. "We're still within the safe range, but I wouldn't recommend riding the edge of the atmosphere for much longer!"
—She'll be fine! Aaen silently declared, continuing to adjust the controls. . .
"The probe's course is becoming erratic!—" another sensor alert.
Oh-shoot! Aaen thought in a panic that made his face feel like there was a heat lamp in front of his face, and a cold tingle shot down his spine.
"Another sensor contact . . . at our eleven o'clock!"
Maxon snapped, barely remaining seated. "WHAT IS IT? 'WHO' IS IT?"
"Atmospheric conditions are interfering with long-range sensors, but it's some kind of . . . large metallic mass . . . URGH! We have to get out of the atmosphere . . . URGH!. . . to get a clear . . . reading!—"
Aaen was struggling to keep her steady—
"The probe's still following us from our four o'clock! It's riding RIGHT on the edge of our wake!"
—A loud booming explosion violently rolled through the cabin, the bridge lights began to flicker, the fire was getting bigger, and the planetoid looked like it was going to fly right into the side of the shuttle soon. The crew could hear the hiss of the blaze through the hull insulation. Aaen reasoned their angle was still too steep. The thrusters weren't strong enough to get them through the atmosphere, Aaen guessed, judging by the feeling of being pushed away by his desk from the atmosphere.
"The sensor contact's still at long-range. The probe's course is becoming more erratic! It's not adjusting for the atmospheric hazard!—"
"—Not YET, at least!" Aaen quipped. For an instant, he was curious about the hull heat, stress, and wondered about as much about the probe—
"—Shields are down to eighty percent!" Jensen announced.
Another booming, thundering explosion threw them off course on a flat spin. The viewscreen lit up brightly as the crew felt pulled sharply to port and struggled to stay in their seats—
"The probe. . .exploded!"
Aaen struggled to gradually pull himself up to scan his screen and determine where they were going—the meters and gauges on his screen screamed they were spinning like a top and were starting to tumble out of control!
He immediately began sharp, abrupt thruster adjustments, but nothing seemed to be working. He focused on countering their counter-clockwise spin with the Port-Yaw thrusters and felt them doing their job in the floor plating. The crew felt like they had a headrest pushing against the right side of their head above the ear for several seconds as the stars began to slow down in the viewscreen. Next, he had to stabilize their forward momentum—the planet was getting bigger with each rotation. For the first time since they launched, Aaen felt genuine fear. The turbulence was making keeping his hands on the controls darn-nearly impossible, but he wasn't going to allow the mission to end like this. And then there was still that other sensor contact. . . .
The crew watched as metallic debris from the probe fell into the planetoid's atmosphere, quickly catching fire as the debris scattered like a spread of countermeasures.
The Galileo was practically nose-diving at the planetoid. Aaen turned the shuttle hard-about with the Starboard-Yaw thrusters and then fired up the impulse engines to full power. The manifolds weren't going to appreciate the boost of heat from the atmosphere, from a mechanical point of view, Aaen reasoned, watching the impulse heat level climb so rapidly . . . but it was that or we all either burn up, explode, or plummet to the surface and likely crash! The rest of the crew started yelling in terror of crashing because of the atmospheric turbulence.
The turbulence was building even more quickly, now. Aaen was focused on the impulse engine gauge climbing to "Full Impulse." The floor plating rattled aggressively, as the crew felt lightweight—they were ascending, Aaen grinned, using flush coolant to keep the engine heat levels below 40%. . . The flame engulfing the hull gradually dissipated as the stars became visible. . . .
. . .Aaen scanned his screen quickly, and then looked up at the viewscreen—"We're clear!"
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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