Greenpeace - Part Five

Oh, shoot! Aaen thought with a bad gut feeling. The bridge lights were still at 75 percent of optimal and looked as though they were struggling. The two damage control officers were frantically working to begin repairs on the half-inch-long list of red damaged systems on the right-side officer’s screen. And yet another ship-wide security scan revealed nothing unusual. The security reports were showing all-was-well. . . For now, Aaen mused uncomfortably. Telepathy wasn’t needed to know the crew’s anxiety level. The captain was visibly deep-in-thought, leaning into the tallest and most padded chair on the ship, eyeing the main viewscreen and the lone ship that was in the center-left of the screen. The name of the ship was displayed as “Unknown” like it’s accompanying classification reading.

It looked plain and hideously unmaintained. Maybe that was because it was actually a Federation ship, but this one was intended to have an unkempt appearance to more easily pass as a pirate ship? He didn’t care. He was too focused on the fact and wanted to know why half of the sensor officer’s screen looked like there was a massive amount of green fuzzy distortion spanning from nine o’clock to three o’clock. Something didn’t feel right about the rendezvous point, or the status-quo, as it seemed. Aaen was silently thinking the same thing, alternating between looking at the command crew and the viewscreen. The first officer was torn between recommending increasing the ship’s alert status, and ordering short-range communications to hail the other ship on a secure channel. No. . .that didn’t feel right either. Aaen was more curious as to why, exactly, the spy would have specified these coordinates. . .

“Detecting one unknown vessel directly ahead. . . It’s not transmitting a ship transponder signal,”

“Maybe that’s our spy’s ship?” the deputy asked.

“Maybe.” the first officer quipped. “Life forms?” he asked directly.

The sensors officer did a scan, “I’m only detecting. .one.”

Long-range communications officer rushed a printed message to the first officer and then returned to her station. He began reading the message immediately.

A moderately high-pitched trio of ringing sounds filled the bridge. “Captain, someone’s hailing us on a Federation Priority Frequency—secure line.” the short-range communications officer announced.

“Shield status?” the first officer asked the left-wing tactical officer.

He checked to see if the shield emitters were online, and then replied, “Standing-by,”

The first officer had a worse gut feeling. He looked at the left-wing tactical officer and ordered, “Raise the shields.”

Tactical executed the command on their computer. Five seconds later, the six shield grids gradually appeared as solid curved blue lines around a black-and-white dorsal view of the ship.

The hailing sound echoed again through the bridge. The bridge crews’ guts sank in anticipation—several heads turned and looked at the command crew. The lights started randomly, subtly flickering.

The captain adjusted his position in his chair then leaned forward slightly and said, “Open a channel,”

The order was carried out quickly, if not tactfully. Another similar sound confirmed the line was connected—

The bridge suddenly became almost deathly-silent.

Aaen and the deputy processed the most recent security report, logging the results, and then quickly turned around in their seats in anticipation, resting their respective shooting hand on their particle pistol side arms. . .

Several seconds of eerie silence passed, and then a very computer-distorted voice discretely asked, “Hello?. .Hello?” the voice sounded like it might be male.

Suddenly the bridge felt very tense.

“This is the captain of the USS Voyager. State your identity.”

Whoever was on the other ship took a couple of deep, anxious breaths and then replied, “. . .Meridian, captain.”

The first officer sat upright and looked at Aaen to silently signal him to verify that’s the correct identity. Aaen checked his Intelligence security records to verify the name-stated was correct. . . He turned around and nodded.

The gesture was relayed to the captain, who faced forward sharply and put his weight on his elbows, “We are standing by to beam aboard the important package.”

The sensor officer did something on their computer and then turned to the captain, “Their shields are up. We won’t be able to beam the package through them.”

The anxiety level for the ship’s crew jumped, “Meridian! You need to lower your shields!” None of the crew wanted to be in this area of space for one second longer than they needed to be, and for good reason—

“I was thinkin’ the same thing, cap’.” there were several more seconds more of silence, and then the distorted voice said, “Cap, for security purposes—” Aaen and the deputy noted a slight change in the spy’s voice. The spy sounded more curious. .even sly. Aaen suspicion was building, but he wasn’t sure what conclusion to draw. Aaen gestured for the deputy to keep an eye on his computer as the spy continued, “I think we should lower our shields at the same time, and then I’ll beam the package to you. I’d like to make this go as fast as possible. No idea if there are any pirates are around that might be interested in stopping this little effort of ours, if you know what I mean.” now the spy was speaking almost calmly, like there was no problem at all. Yes, there was that possibility that the three ships weren’t alone, but there really wasn’t a way to know for sure. The captain didn’t seem to care much, or give that possibility any credibility, much less enough to take any particular action to strictly rule it out. But how could one be completely sure that all three ships were completely safe under these circumstances?

The first officer put the printed message on his small blue and white desk, said something to the captain, and then looked at the viewscreen with a direct, concerned look.

“Okay,” the captain answered, “we’ll lower our shields on the count of three.”

“Actually, captain, if you don’t mind. . .I’d rather give you the package, in-person.”

Aaen snapped—What’s-going-on? he silently thought, anxiously grasping the cool square metal handrail behind him, waiting for the captain’s decision.

“Cap’, I’m standing by to lower my shields and beam aboard with the package for immediate transfer. On your command.”

The captain paused for a second, and then said, “Okay. Do it, Left Wing,” the left wing officer was prompt in carrying out the order. The shields came down in the same amount of time as they took to raise. “Right wing, transport the spy on-board immediately once our shields are down,”

“Aye, sir!”

“Security team to deck two!” the first officer loudly commanded, gesturing Aaen and the deputy to follow the captain. The captain had already stepped down from the command platform and was briskly walking to the top of the spiral staircase. Protocol required Aaen, as the chief of security for the ship, to be in front of the captain, with the deputy bringing up the rear.

The first officer watched curiously and cautiously as the main viewscreen showed the spy’s ship’s shield percentage rapidly dropping from 100% as Aaen, the captain, and the deputy marched down the spiral staircase to deck two.

Aaen pointed toward the sickbay as the CMO pocked their head out of the passageway, “Did I hear someone say they’re beaming aboard?”

“Something like—” Aaen responded, before being interrupted by a crew member on the bridge.

“See you soon. .captain,”

“Transport-in-progress!—” the transporter sound could be heard on both the bridge and deck two, “Wait a minute!. .SOMETHING’S WRONG! SOMEONE OR SOMETHING IS HIJACKING THE TRANSPORTER BEAM! IT’S BEING OVERRIDDEN!” Another alarm sounded sharply—

The bridge engineer shouted, “MULTIPLE LIFEFORMS ARE BOA—”

The first officer watched as the spy’s ship’s external lights became brighter to the point where multiple sharp, bright red projectiles shot from multiple orifices along the hull, pummeling the Freedom. One of the torpedoes smashed into and exploded on contact with the Freedom’s port Translight nacelle’s Bussard ramscoop. The explosion caused a booming cascading chain reaction through the nacelle’s Translight coils. The bridge crew felt the shock from the explosion and snapped and braced against their computer stations as the viewscreen lit up with thick, jagged metallic flaming debris. 

“Reading multiple torpedo impacts on the Freedom!” the right-wing sensors officer declared.

The short-range communications officer snapped, “First officer! Freedom’s transmitting a priority distress signal! They’re reporting multiple hull breaches, a direct hit to their port translight nacelle—they’re leaking drive plasma, they've taken multiple casualties, they’ve lost translight engines, and they’re losing main power!”

In other words, they’re dead-in-space, the first officer concluded, and the other ship’s on the other side of the bottleneck. . . We’re on our own. A brutally cold realization that made his spine chill and tingle, a sensation that eerily traveled up the back of his neck and into the back of his head. The first officer watched as the Freedom’s external lights were flickering violently as the hull drifted lower in the viewscreen with its port nacelle on fire, sparking sporadically and bleeding a dense plume of bright blue drive plasma.

Three more ships soared out of the nebula at high speed behind the spy’s ship.

“THREE ORION RAIDER-CLASS WARSHIPS APPROACHING AT HIGH-IMPULSE! THEY’RE SURROUNDING US AND THE FREEDOM!”

 “—INTRUDER-ALERT!” the main computer droned as a darkly-dressed figure sharply reached a dark particle rifle around the corner as Aaen snapped to jump in front of the captain to protect him. The rifle lit up a bright red as a booming particle bolt hammered Aaen in the chest as he fired back. Aaen crumbled into the wall adjacent to the deck two sickbay.

“OFFICER-DOWN!” the CMO declared in shock as Aaen felt a burning electrical shock sensation in his chest, a feeling that rapidly circulated throughout his torso, neck, arms, and legs.

“THE ORION SHIPS ARE LOCKING WEAPONS ON US!” the right-wing sensors officer declared.

Aaen was barely conscious, listening as the deputy shoved the captain left towards the sickbay and fired back, taking cover at the corner next to where Aaen went down.

Multiple other violent particle bolts narrowly missed Aaen and the deputy. Aaen's ears rang with what sounded like muffled booms as he was still dazed from being hit by the particle bolt. Several more particle bolts fired from cautious shooters' particle rifles sparked against the metal walls, others sparked against the bunk linings throughout the deck. The CMO ducked and retreated into sickbay as the captain took cover behind the deputy, who grabbed Aaen’s left wrist and pulled him towards sickbay while the deputy continued firing back at the mouth of decontamination.

“UNDER FIRE! UNDER-FIRE!” the deputy shouted at the top of his lungs at the bridge. “SECURITY ALERT, LEVEL-ONE! WE’RE PINNED-DOWN DOWN HERE!”

The intruder alert echoed throughout the ship. Aaen could barely open his left eye. He watched as the deputy continued dragging him around the corner as the deputy laid down suppression fire at the top of decontamination. . .and Aaen could tell the deputy was seriously out-gunned. . . The CMO, the deputy, and Aaen heard multiple footsteps stampeding down the staircase from decontamination. Aaen wanted to get up, but could barely feel his arms or legs, much less like he could stand up and put up a firefight. Aaen’s head was under the edge of the countertop in the mess hall. The deputy picked up his sidearm and fired dual-wielding style. Aaen’s ears were ringing from the shock of the particle bolt.

“COMPUTER: SEAL OFF THE BRIDGE! ACTIVATE EMERGENCY SECURITY FORCEFIELDS, NOW!” the first officer commanded. The computer didn’t acknowledge the order or carry it out. “COMPUTER!. .COMPUTER!”

 “Un, un, unable-to-comply. Primary computer servo pathways are-are-are being disrupted.” the computer sounded like a recording on a scratched media storage device.

“Captain, what-in-da-livin’-daylights is going on? We’ve got a buncha people comin’ in ‘ere—!” Watson was interrupted by an abrupt boom in the background. The comm line to engineering filled with static and then cut out with three flat beeps.

The first officer realized the crew just lost engineering.

Aaen watched the deputy fire back several times, and then take cover, dodging several shots back—and then he reached out to fire again as a bolt struck him in his right shoulder. He instantly dropped his particle pistol as he tossed violently backward, tumbled then landed on his back, motionless a few feet away.

“OFFICER-DOWN!” the CMO declared.

Aaen saw the captain taking cover around the corner of the countertop, silently counting in his head as he snapped to make a run for it back to the bridge. A shot from around the corner hit the captain squarely in the back and he crumbled down the last two steps of the staircase to the floor, motionless.

“OFFICER-DOWN!” two more shots sparked against the staircase. “I CAN’T GET TO HIM!”

Worse, Aaen realized, both sidaerms were now on the other side of the deck. Aaen noted the footsteps around the corner were getting louder! Aaen could move his head a little, enough to barely turn his head to see the CMO around the adjacent corner in sickbay, ducking with his arms and hands up and in front of him out of fear of being shot.

Multiple dark figures dressed in dark green, brown and black camouflage fatigues, black helmets covering their heads and faces, and black pants and boots rushed around the corner sharply with particle rifles and pistols held firmly in front of them and stepped around the corner. There were five dark figures. The five dark figures varied in height and build. The tallest figure was about six feet tall and looked like they had the most muscle; the dark figure who was median in height was about five-foot-ten inches tall, looked comparable in build to the smaller two figures; the smaller dark figures were each about five feet tall. The taller and the two shorter dark figures split up: the tallest dark figured walked around the countertop and sharply checked the rooms in the far corner of the deck, gesturing for the two smaller two to stand at the bottom the spiral staircase. They did, and they immediately trained their particle rifles at the top of the staircase, shifting at the slightest indication of movement.

Aaen realized nobody was getting down here to help with security, and immediately doubted anyone would be coming up, either, as he hadn’t issued that order to a security team on a lower deck. SHOOT!

The tallest of the dark figures came back and gestured for the dark figure who was median in height to go into the sickbay. The figure walked over Aaen and ducked under the passageway as it rushed into the sickbay and turned to the CMO. The dark figured snapped at the sight of the CMO.

“GET OUT HERE, FEDERATION SCUM!” the figure sounded male, had a grizzly voice, and grabbed the CMO by their collar and sharply jerked him into the mess hall area, tossing him so hard he tumbled almost over the countertop. “ARE YOU AFRAID?” the figure held its sidearm pistol over the CMO’s head.

“DON’T SHOOT ME! PLEASE!”

The taller figure gestured to hold their fire. “We can use another doctor.” the taller figure sounded male, also, and had a darker and grizzlier voice than the first dark figure.

“TAKE THE BRIDGE!” the tallest dark figure barked.

The other four figures rushed up the staircase. Seconds later, particle fire lit up the bridge. Aaen’s gut churned at the sound of the bridge crew members yelling and groaning as they collapsed in a thundering mass.

“CLEAR!” the second tallest of the dark figures shouted.

The tallest dark figure walked towards the base of the spiral stairs. “YOU must be the captain!” he forcefully picked the captain up by the arm. The captain was just barely able to stand. “WALK UP-TO-YOUR-BRIDGE!—MOVE!”

After they arrived, the taller one began to speak, “GOOD WORK, you four! Mad Dog will reward us richly for taking the Federation’s precious Voyager!” he turned sharply and pointed at the two smaller figures, “You-and-you! Make sure things stay QUIET DOWN THERE! As a matter of fact, bring the crew members down there, up here. Now. CREW! UP! NOW! HANDS-ON-YOUR-HEADS!”

Aaen, the deputy, and the CMO quickly found themselves up the staircase on the bridge. The rest of the crew were dazed with their hands on their heads, but the dark figures were forcing them to stay upright or making it clear to them that they would be shot.

“Get your hands on your heads, now,” one of the shorter figures growled. Aaen, the deputy, and the CMO complied. Burn marks from particle bolt impacts scored every wall of the bridge. Another hailing alert echoed on the bridge. The viewscreen showed a crippled Freedom with burning holes in its hull.

The taller dark figure stood between the security computers and the science station and held their particle rifle over their shoulder as the figure faced the crew, “You are all now prisoners of the Orion Pirates. This ship is now our property. Cooperate, and we might let you live. But if you even think of trying to fight back, you will be punished.” he looked to one of the smaller figures. “One of you answer that hail! Tell them we’ve taken the ship!”

The figure complied. “The other team has taken the Freedom!”

“Good. Now, net these scum out of my sight! Take them to the brig—no!—Take them to cargo bay two!”

“Right now!” the median dark figure shouted, waving his particle rifle in the air to intimidate the crew into cooperating.

“And tell the other teams on decks twelve, thirteen, and fifteen to report-in!”

The median dark figured acknowledged with an abrupt nod.

As the other four smaller figures were forcing the crew to walk off the bridge, the taller figure looked at the captain, “Your ship will be a more effective weapon for what is to come, captain,”

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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