"Say again," Jonathan ordered.
"Confirmed—" Mason candidly replied, "'We have lost contact with our source,"
"What happened?" Aaen asked directly.
Mason shrugged her shoulders, "Command didn't say—only—"
Another alarm sounded. This one sounded like an echoing chirp.
Aaen remained focused on the engine controls. He guessed they had to be over half way there. "Mason?"
Mason looked at her screen with a puzzled look.
Aaen glanced at her screen and then looked back at the viewscreen.
"Captain. . .someone's hailing us,"
Aaen became stiff in his chair—Oh, great. His first question was whether or not to answer the hail. If the hail wasn't encrypted, answering would enable any eavesdropper to know that they were there and leave them open to being traced. He weighed the odds in his mind. . .his gut felt heavy. "Are we going to answer the hail?" the echoing chirp sounded again like a rolling wave.
Maxon leaned toward Mason, "Is the hail encrypted," the alert sounded again.
". . .Yes,"
"Open a channel," Maxon ordered.
Sitting upright, Aaen thought, here goes! His gut told him the hail might be coming from their source . . .
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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