Scorpion Relay - Part 18

The tension of the day was mounting, which involuntarily caused lunch to be easily dismissed as a luxury at this point, and a thought that had long-since escaped his mental agenda. He sat behind his desk in his finely decorated and kept office, scrolling through new fleet information, positional analysis, and recommendations submitted by the Admiral sitting on the other side. The president's order, given a little more than two hours ago, had been carried out and executed well and above the speed and efficiency that he considered to be within his good graces. Then again, he was confident it would be. He liked what he was reading, and likewise hoped that this would be a closed case by the end of the day. The data—condensed for easier reading—said every operable ship in the fleet was being either re-positioned or deploying, even as he was reading, though some measure of his thoughts were on what happened on the border, and what the big picture message was at this point.

"Mr. President, there was a large explosion confirmed on the Rotelan border. From what we are able to intercept, initial suspicions on their side at this time are of a freak meteor strike. Our long-range satellites have detected a significant increase in tachyon emissions near the affected region of their border. It would seem the ghost story has taken steps to get through,"

". . .Were they detected?" the president asked concerned.

Admiral DuCannon took a moment to gather his thoughts and then turned his head. He wasn't strictly confident in the response, but at the same time, there was no Intelligence to explicitly contradict what his professional judgment was telling him. "They're looking for the ghost story, though all available information suggests that status is still accurate,"

"What about the objective?"

"No change in status at this time,"

The president didn't like not knowing. His gut told him there was still a serious military threat out there, and his intellect told him all they could do at this point was move the fleet around in hopes that the ghost story wasn't too late by now. No, he told himself, then reminded himself of how effective their Intelligence sources are, and that he needed to continue to trust them and their ability to keep up with what was going on.

"Admiral Carrell is confident Galileo will come through, sir,"

"I want regular round-the-clock patrols along our border. I want the neutral zone monitored constantly. If anything even remotely out of the ordinary is detected, I want the spotlight on the anomaly, readings taken, and a full tactical analysis report,"

"Yes, sir,"

"Has there been any word from any of the other neighbors?"

DuCannon turned his head, "They are aware of the situation and are taking similar steps as we are, but there has not as yet been any reported aggressive action taken on their border or within their space,"

The president thought this was turning out to be one heck of an intellectual chess match, one that was starting to give him a slight headache.

A subtle doorbell filled the air.

"Come!" the twin doors parted as a tanned human female lieutenant with red shoulders entered the room.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, we just received word from our source. We need you and Admiral DuCannon in the situation room, sir,"

The president and DuCannon stood up and walked out. The Lieutenant followed them closely. 
"It's not working!" Mason declared.

"Adjust course! Get us in behind the battleship! Follow them in!" Maxon commanded.

"Better do it quick! Those other battleship are closing in on our position!" Jonathan declared.

Aaen was quick on the controls, bringing the shuttle hard to port, yawing, a slight roll to port and then bringing the sublight engines to half power.

"The battleship's maintaining course and speed!"

"What about the ones behind us?" Maxon asked.

"Still closing! We're one-fifth the way through the satellite field,"

"Increasing speed to three-quarter-sublight power!" Oh, dang! This is gonna be close!

Aaen's anxiety was at its peak with nearly twenty scanning beams chasing them—many of the beams were intersecting or crossing over each other like scissor blades closing. . .he was barely keeping the shuttle ahead of the beams. He switched to the thrusters, using the forward array in silent and desperate hope for any more momentum. The battleship was started to get larger in the viewscreen—it looked like a flying city in space! "How long?"

"Six minutes,"

Crap. Aaen began doubting whether or not they would be able to catch up in time, much less stay undetected—

—two long scanning beams passed over them. Multiple reverberating static hums filled the cabin, and became increasingly loud—Aaen's arms and legs stiffened abruptly in anticipation, and he found himself holding his breath as all other sounds in the cabin ceased and he started wondering if they would have to break and run for it!. . .and then the sound gradually dissipated. . .

The cabin filled with heavy gasps of relief, and then Aaen quipped, "We're not out of this yet!" They were on the battleship's starboard quarter and closing—fast, Aaen noted.

"We're almost right on top of the battleship. Captain, I'm recommending we come more to port, and then level-out, maintaining then-present course,"

"Agreed. Do it, Commander,"

"Already on it,"

The battleship began to gradually shift on the viewscreen until the crew was practically in tow—they started to roll and veered to port.  

"Adjust course to match!" Jonathan commanded.

Aaen nodded and immediately adjusted the controls. They slowed, and were getting larger, so Aaen reduced the shuttle's speed to half-sublight. . .then to one-quarter. A couple of bursts from the reverse thrusters helped to slow them down. The shuttle was now nearly in the same position relative to the battleship as they were. Aaen carefully noted their proximity to the battleship's sensor range—

"—I'm almost finished decoding the message from Command,"

"—Commander, we're getting too close!" Jensen exclaimed.

"We're almost there!"

"Only two minutes left!" Jonathan announced. "We're nearing the edge of the interior perimeter of the satellite field.

Several more abrupt, gradual course corrections occurred like a seemingly slow, daunting roller coaster. Aaen had lost track of time—he watched as the satellites behind them were coming back online and gradually resuming their programmed scans. Worse: the scanning beams were cascading towards them, and the satellites ahead were already starting to come back online! The aft scanning beams acted almost like clock-wise sweeps forward to push the shuttle forward.

Aaen reasoned they had only seconds left to make a decision. The adjacent scans were likely to intersect with the battleship's passive sensors—DANG, this is GONNA BE CLOSE! "Captain?"

Maxon didn't respond.

Those beams are getting closer! Aaen made a call: he used the starboard-yaw thrusters to adjust the shuttle's heading abruptly twenty degrees and then punched up the sublight engines to full power. The battleship quickly filled the viewscreen as Aaen fired the down thrusters, clenching his teeth—
"Commander?" Aaen asked.

". . . Clear!"

More gasps of relief like a wave around the cabin. Aaen leaned into his chair and looked around to find grins, nods and other positive gestures directed at him. He looked at the viewscreen—their destination was the size of a dime in the distance ahead.

"Maintain course and speed," Maxon ordered. "Take us in,"

With pleasure.

*****

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: 

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Scorpion Relay - Part 17

"Detecting an increase in tachyon emissions at seven and eight o'clock. . . At nine o'clock . . . Now they're gone—"

Mason turned sharply in her seat, "Long-range message sent to Command,"

Maxon nodded.

"If we've got anyone on the inside, this is a great time to discretely pull the proverbial plug on these things, right now," Aaen said.

"That might draw more attention to this area if they did," Maxon countered.

Sure. That wasn't entirely implausible, but that didn't mean—

The floor started vibrating—"BATTLESHIP DECLOAKING! IT'S RIGHT OVER US!"

Jonathan centered the viewscreen on the subject. The subject seemingly slowly shimmered as it became visible. They were staring at the subject's massive bright green belly as it proceeded at one-quarter sublight power towards the field of satellites. . . 'A bug on a windshield' would be a generous size comparison, Aaen decided.

"Stand fast. Stay focused, people,"

Aaen couldn't help but watch the viewscreen, "If they detected us we'd be under fire right now,"

Mason looked at Aaen with a look indicative of hopefulness of being right while being skeptical of the seemingly actual status quo—she shifted her weight into the back of her chair and leaned forward. Aaen's gut told him Jensen was hovering over the command to fire another barrage of fire, which he expected might be necessary at some point. Maxon made a good point about that, which helped him to dismiss the notion of necessity of opening fire, but his gut also told him to be skeptical of that, too. His attention slowly shifted to Jonathan—Mason's computer screen flashed. Aaen eyed the screen through his left peripheral and his first thought was that whoever was on the inside came through for them.

Mason scanned the new readings on her screen, "We got a response from Command. I'm decoding it,"

"Good work," Maxon said.

Another alert sounded, this one sounded deeper than darker than the long-range message alert, "Captain, that battleship is hailing the planet,"

"Can you tap into the signal?" Jonathan asked.

"Working on it. . ." she was quickly manipulating the controls. The process didn't seem albeit too complicated, though tricky in matching the main frequency, and then there was the task of matching their wavelength and amplitude. Aaen eyed the readings on her screen. . .they were using some kind of high-powered channel scrambler to try to throw off eavesdroppers. He started having doubts about whether or not Mason would be successful, both wavy lines on the screen resembled a large double-helix-like puzzle—and the building gloss on her face suggested she was having a time trying to keep them matched long enough to lock on to the signal and then put whatever conversation that was going on through the bridge audio speakers. The line representing the channel kept changing shapes. A third white line represented the Galileo's communications array, and it's nearly-constant change in shape was an accurate reflection of Mason's attempt to lock in the signal. . .

. . .She's getting closer to matching them, Aaen grinned, thinking about her efforts as she wiped her forehead on her sleeve. "Almost there," Aaen said reassuringly.

"We're gonna miss whatever they're saying!" Jonathan shouted.

"She's almost got it!" Aaen said in Mason's defense.

The green line represented the amplitude, the blue line represented the frequency. She was struggling to match perfectly her target. . . .BINGO!

"Connecting to speakers!" A series of brief chirping and beeping sounds filled the air as Maxon held abruptly out her palms as if to shush the crew, and then buried her chin in her joined fists.

Aaen faced forward and sinisterly looked at the viewscreen, noticing in his left peripheral Mason was working on finishing decoding the new message. Jonathan leaned forward in his seat, intermittently scanning his sensor screen in anticipation.

". . .Of course. The perimeter is secure," a sharp, sinister mail voice said.

"How-can-you-be-sure?" A second voice, also male, asked. "We have been patrolling this entire sector for days. They don't seem to know about the operation. The Praetor sees this as the most opportune time to test what we've been working on. They won't see it coming, which means this is our chance to finally rid their stench from this quadrant, and any of their allies. . .those. . .No. I will not glorify their existence. I just want to see them disappear. . . The rest of the fleet will maintain border security while the rest of our friends help with our mission efforts. RMS Immortality—requesting clearance of border satellite field,"

"You are certain there are none of their ships near your position? The Praetor doesn't want any mistakes,"

"We are certain they are not here. If they were. . .they would already be dead. I have taken steps to further. .ensure. .security,"

A heavy breath came through the speakers, "You are slightly ahead of schedule. . . Very well—standby,"

A flurry of sensor alerts sounded—"Ohhh, boy!" Jonathan whispered loudly.

Maxon snapped, "What?" she whispered back sharply, turning in her chair.

The line beeped off. "Channel's closed! We can speak freely!"

"What if we docked with their outer hull?" Jensen suggested.

"We wouldn't need to use our engines to get through, but they would more-than-likely detect a hull disturbance,"

"How do you know that?"

"Trust me!"

Maxon turned to Jensen, "Don't worry about it right now. I'll consider that as a last alternative,"

"Just magnetize the docking clamps onto  their hull!"

"He's right. That might not work!" Jonathan announced. "Their satellites are enabled with both passive and active sensor arrays. Based on these readings, they're programmed to scan both scan space, and any ships that come into their range, including their shape,"

"So if we were to land on their hull—"

"—They would still know we were there,"

"The stealth field would mask our hull,"

"Given the proximity between the battleship and those satellites, the walls would be getting pretty close, pretty fast,"

—Meaning we'd be lucky to get through without so much as raising suspicion. Aaen reasoned.

Another sensor alert—"A series of satellites are going into diagnostic mode! The battleship's increasing speed. . . It's not a straight line, but this could be a path for us to get in!"

Oh, shoot! Aaen's gut told him this was their chance. He looked at the viewscreen, but his attention was now on Maxon while he hovered over the controls. "What's our next move, captain?"

"Are we close enough to access their computer mainframe, Mason?" Maxon asked calmly and directly.

Mason tried to gain access, then turned her head, "No. We need to get closer."

"How much closer?"

"Fifty kilometers,"

Aaen's gut sank a little more. He tucked himself into his chair and sat upright. "I'm shutting down the sublight engines, and then I can ease us in using the thrusters,"

"Jonathan, how soon will the satellites end 'diagnostic mode'?"

". . .Ten minutes! After that, we're gonna need all the help we can get to get through what's to come,"

Maxon turned to Aaen, "Think you can do it?"

Aaen turned and nodded sharply. Let's hope this works. . . "I'm going to fire a burst from the sublight engines, and then I'll use the thrusters the rest of the way. If this doesn't work, our only other chance is to follow the battleship. We're gonna be dancing on egg shells the whole way in, if that's the case,"

"You can do this," Maxon said directly and reassuringly.

Aaen took a deep breath and started manipulating the controls—

—Another sensor alert, "SHOOT!. . . We've got multiple new sensor contacts!"

"How MANY?"

"Counting. . .three. . .no, seven. . ." he turned his head, "correction. . .fifteen new contacts—" he looked up, "all battleship. More!. . .Confirmed—" his eyes traced over the bottom of his screen, "twenty batlteships! They're all moving in formation, between our three o'clock to our nine o'clock! We've got a freakin' wall of battleships behind us and to our starboard and port side,"

"That means we have no exit, this way," Aaen quipped.

"They're patrolling this region like a swarm of bees! Reading passive and active sensor scans all over the place! Battleship is ten thousand kilometers ahead, approaching the satellite perimeter,"

Maxon gasped, "Okay. Commander. . .steady as she goes. Take us in,"

*****

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: 

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Scorpion Relay - Part 16

"Maxon, send a long-range message to Command. Send them a full update on our status as fast as you can,"

"Got it," she started typing away faster than Aaen had seen since launch.

Another sensor alert—"More ships just entered the area!" Jonathan sounded like he was suddenly on the verge of a panic attack. . . Then Aaen had an idea—

"Captain, what if we used one of the torpedo casings to generate a false sensor echo?"

". . .What?"

He turned around, "Create a countermeasure. They're going to eventually realize we're here, whether they detect us or not. It's only a matter of time. One shuttle versus an entire fleet of ships?. . ." he sensed she was picking up on his point. . .the look on her face said she was coming to the same realization he was—"The odds are not in our favor, even for a spy shuttle. We need to have a countermeasure ready to throw them off. Then, when they get within close enough to the probe, rig it to detonate using one of the high-yield warheads. One of those could potentially cripple twenty-five to fifty ships, if it works,"

"'IF'—That's a pretty freakin' big gamble, Aaen," Jonathan quipped.

"Compared to taking them all on, with two high-power cannons and only two torpedoes?"

". . .He's got a point," Maxon interjected.

"What if it doesn't work? That kind of an anti-matter explosion in space? A scout ship would detect that from two parsecs away. We'd be attracting more attention than we'd be dodging,"

"Maybe not. The torpedo detonation would be close to a Translight core breach. It would likely be interpreted as a ship exploding. They would divert more of their fleet to investigate, and they wouldn't be able to immediately tell what really happened—and it would take minutes or hours for any ships they have in range to arrive, and then to do an investigation—"

"Okay, enough," Maxon interjected, extending her palms.

"Do you want me to modify a torpedo casing to be a decoy?" Jensen asked.

Another sensor alert—

"How many more ships?" Maxon asked.

Jonathan had to move his finger across his screen to take count, "Fifteen more ships. None of them are cloaked. Five are warbirds,"

"I've got the message for Admiral Carrell ready to be sent," Mason turned to the captain.

Maxon nodded and said, "Send it,"

The order was carried out.

Another sensor alert—"We're twenty minutes from our destination,"

"Understood," Maxon acknowledged.

"We're down to 60% flush coolant for the Translight engines, captain," Aaen started having doubts about whether or not they would have enough. His gut told him they were gonna need it. . . He tried not to focus on the possibilities of what might happen in the next half-hour—

"Jonathan, work with Jensen to modify a torpedo casing,"

They Jensen and Jonathan started whispering and mumbling to each other as they switched screens on their computers and then began exchanging information displayed on their computer screens.

Aaen scanned his screen, "Our course will take us very close to the ships and some other obstacles. We're running out of coolant fast, captain. We might want to slow down to maybe. .Translight seven or six,"

Maxon gasped hard. "Will we make it in time if we slow down?" Maxon asked Jonathan.

"It'll be cutting it close. If we slow down that much. . .it'll be at least another ten minutes—"

"And we're still using Translight coolant. We'll be at 50% of optimal before long, and then if we need to use a higher Translight factor to bug outta here. . ." Aaen turned his head—"We might have to improvise,"

". . .Whaddo you mean by 'improvise'?" Maxon asked. Mason gave Aaen a confused look.

Aaen looked at Maxon with a determined look, then Maxon responded, "You're kidding,"

Aaen subtly turned his head.

"What?" Mason asked.

Aaen kept looking at Maxon, and responded to Mason, "We may have to borrow coolant from one of the Rotelan ships,"

Jonathan overheard the statement, "Are-you-serious?"

Aaen turned farther and nodded, "It's that, or we risk a Translight engine explosion, which will cripple the shuttle,"

"How do you know if their coolant is even compatible with our engines?" Jonathan asked skeptically.

Maxed extended her palm at Jonathan, "Computer,"

"Online," the AIU droned.

"Is Rotelan Translight engine coolant compatible with our Translight engines?"

The question was met with a flurry of beeping sounds—"If it's possible to use their coolant on our engines, we can use the transporters to beam some from one of the smaller ships into our coolant tanks,"

Maxon gestured for Aaen to stop talking. The beeping sounds stopped, "Affirmative. Rotelan Translight engine coolant is 60% compatible with this shuttle's Translight engines,"

"What does '60% compatible' mean?" Maxon asked, seemingly in general.

"It means we can fill our Translight engine coolant takes up with their coolant, but it won't be more than 60% effective in cooling the engines down and we'll probably run out of it faster than using our own coolant,"

"So why bother with it?" Jonathan asked, interjecting, "Captain, I think it's too risky. If they detect the transport when it's in progress, we're screwed. They can trace the transporter beam,"

"We're a spy shuttle how do we know the transporter signal isn't encrypted somehow?"

Maxon looked at Jensen. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his head as though to express uncertainty.

Maxon faced forward and brushed her fingers through her hair, then took a deep breath, "We're short on time, and that increases the risk of this mission more than what it already is. I don't think we can take that much risk right now. We'll keep going,"

—Shoot, Aaen faced forward and took a deep breath.

"There's another warbird approaching fast at our two o'clock. . . Looks like it and about ten others are docked inside of some kind of shipyard. I'm reading high-yield plasma torpedoes and pulse beam arrays being installed," Jonathan announced. "Antimatter decoy probe is almost finished, captain,"

"Very good," Maxon acknowledged. "Keep me posted,"

Jonathan and Jensen continued working on the decoy probe.

Mason had a thought, "Captain, if they're loading weapons onto those ships, this might be an opportunity to break into their computer network to find out how to access that satellite perimeter Command was talking about, and shut them down. We might be able to access the Rotelan internal core network to get the access codes to shut down the satellite network,"

"They might detect us if we try to get in," Maxon said darkly.

"It might work," Aaen added.

"We tried that when we were getting through their border. They nearly detected us,"

"That was their border. This is a shipyard. We might have better luck. We're hundreds of lightyears inside their space. The security in the shipyard might be less complicated than on their border,"

"What makes you think so?" Jensen asked, looking doubtful, continuing to work on the decoy probe with Jonathan.

"Look at it from their perspective: do you really think you would need to have more security on a shipyard this deep into their space, especially with all those high-intensity scan satellites and battleships on their border, ready to decloak and destroy at-will?" If they think they have the upper-hand, they would probably be more relaxed about that.

Jonathan gasped. "It might be possible, captain. But we only have another twenty seconds before we pass them, at this speed,"

"I can still slow us down and alter course in time!" Aaen declared.

"And if it doesn't work?" Maxon said.

Aaen turned around, hovering his right hand over the command to slow to full sublight—

Another alarm sounded—"New message from Command," Mason announced. She was already quickly working to decode the message. 

Maxon looked at Jonathan. He only lowered his eyebrows and expressed some skepticism of the idea, then nodded.

Maxon turned around, "No. Just keep going,"

Aaen gasped as he went through the engine controls, stopping at the coolant levels. Coolant levels were at 52% and falling. He took another deep breath and looked at the viewscreen—so far, so good.

Maxon and Jonathan made eye contact again, "the probe'll be finished in about ten minutes," Jonathan said.

"We might be able to use the other casing as an actual torpedo,"

"I don't intend to take this ship into battle, Commander,"

"I don't think it's a good idea, either. But if something goes wrong in the next fifteen minutes, I think we should be prepared,"

"We'll just have to be careful, won't we?"

"Aye," But how careful are they being?

*****

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!