Aaen executed the command on the scanner. A high-pitched whine—almost deafening—filled the room. The away team covered their ears and cringed tightly, and Aaen watched carefully as all four surveillance cameras began to spark violently, immediately followed by a thick plume of black smoke.
"NOW!" Maxon yelled in a whisper as the away team swarmed through the room. Maxon pointed around her, and then at the door as she commanded, "Jonathan, Jensen, watch the door!" There was only one door to this room, Aaen noted and quickly began working on collecting the prize.
This was one-sophisticated-piece of equipment, Aaen judged: a pristine crystal-like cylinder resembling a warp core with a deep, bright ocean-blue internal glow—only this thing was only three feet tall, and about six inches in diameter, and had more wires coming out of its three levels of multi-colored blinking circular external ports than the Voyager's main computer core. Scanner readings were going ballistic! Aaen noted, trying to wirelessly sever the connections so the device could be recovered and analyzed after returning it to Intelligence. . . His frantic efforts—
A glaring, intermittent alarm sounded from somewhere down the corridor, from the right—oh, crap, he thought, snapping, and then quickly going back to work. . . C'mon. .C'MON!. . . The device was fighting his every effort—URGH! "Captain!" Aaen started turning his head.
Maxon rushed to his side, "What is it?" she asked, noting the near-terror in his voice. "Is it ready to go?"
Aaen abruptly turned his head. "There's some kind of counter-measure in this thing's base unit that won't allow the scanner to interface with this thing. There's no way to sever it from his housing by scanner. First Officer! Jonathan!"
He snapped and then immediately, sharply, entered the room. "What?" he replied with an alarmed look on his face.
The lights in the corridor outside changed to a darker, deathlier shade of green. They had 30 seconds left before their faces would be all over every military network on this and every other planet under their control. They had to act—NOW!
The sound of indistinguishable orders being yelled echoed from down the corridor from the right.
"The cloaking device won't separate from its base. You need to take out the base with a cannon blast!"
"Whatever you're gonna do! Do it QUICK! We're gonna have company REAL-QUICK!" Jensen declared sharply.
Jonathan stepped behind the largest of the control panels in the room near a far wall and adjusted the power output on his sidearm, took aim as Aaen, Maxon, and Jensen ran for cover, and then fired! The beam was brighter and screamed louder than on standard setting—the base exploded instantly through the room, sending fine glass and metallic shrapnel fragments flying.
The away team could hear countless pairs of combat boots clashing against the metallic corridor floor outside—they were out of time, they each realized.
Aaen rushed to the cloaking device, holstered his scanner and then tried to pick up the device so the away team could start back for the shuttle. . . He quickly felt a flood of sharp pains domino down his back and abandoned his effort. . . A solo lifting effort was hopeless. This thing was just too darn heavy. He turned his head at the away team sharply.
"Jonathan and Jensen, you take the device. Aaen will get us back to the shuttle." Maxon's order was carried out immediately. They tilted the device toward the vent shaft and then carried it by the top and the bottom of the device. Aaen pulled out his scanner and they started back for the shuttle, twice as fast as they came in.
Maxon's communicator beeped. She retrieved the device and answered the hail. "Maxon,"
"Don't forget to close the vent cover!" Aaen whispered loudly back through the shaft.
"—Captain, this is Mason. You all need to get back here fast! Short-range communications are going crazy! And there's a lot more foot activity out here! There's gotta be at least a hundred security personnel out here, and there's more coming from underground and transporter signatures from ships in orbit!"
"WHERE IS IT?. . . LOOK OVER THERE!" a voice yelled from behind. Jensen was working on replacing the vent cover as two bright green particle rifles rose up. Jensen ducked as twin bright green directed particle bolts nearly scored the back of his head and then exploded against the metal vent lining. He dropped the vent cover and scrambled on three of his four back to the away team, returning fire twice—and missing as narrowly. The vent cover landed at an angle against the mouth of the vent.
"GO! GO! GO!" Maxon yelled.
They returned to the original tunnel in fifteen seconds—the doors were still open, and the sound of running boots smashing against dirt and wood were getting louder.
"The shuttle's a hundred meters that way!" Aaen declared, pointing the way.
"LET'S GO!" Maxon commanded. The sounds were getting louder. "—MOVE! MOVE! Jonathan, take point!" Jensen brings up the rear!"
Aaen led the away team running back up the ramp, sidearms-ready, a sharp slight left turn—ten seconds of sprinting later, Jensen snapped, and then roared, "—CONTACT-REAR!"
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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