Delta
Force charged down the corridor, heading due-aft, heading for the shuttle bay,
rifles-up—there would be no negotiation
with anyone in pirate garb. A crowd of pirates entered the corridors to try to
find out why the power went out, their communicators buzzing with chatter from
the bridge and the rest of the ship where they had an overwhelming presence.
Deltas’ snapped and opened fire on-sight—the pirates became like rag dolls
thrown in every which direction against the corridors’ metal framework. Five
minutes later, and dozens of pirates’ being downed, Delta Force arrived at the
shuttle bay. Scans showed 20 or more pirates on the other side of the wide,
twin metal doors.
The
Commander gestured for breach-and-clear, pulling a black, round softball-sized
object from a compartment on the side of his jacket; his thumb on the
activation button and gesturing for the deputy to put a pentagon-shaped silver
explosive charge on the locks holding the doors together. Four small red
blinking lights in the center of the device activated from left to right. Delta
Force stacked up on both sides of the doors, rifles up,
The
Commander gestured to the deputy to detonate the charge. The explosion rattled
the deck plating, lit up the corridor and obliterated the doors’ locking
mechanisms. The doors slid open sharply and abruptly as The Commander thumbed
the object armed and then sharply tossed it through the doorway.
A second
later, a loud BANG and a blinding
white flash cued Delta Force to rush inside like a freak lightning storm. They
snapped, fanning out, aiming and firing at the dense crowd of terrorists and
other criminals shielding their eyes, gritting their teeth and struggling to
stay balanced surrounding the four shuttles in the bay. In less than a minute,
the bay was hidden under a blanket of downed criminals.
The
Commander tossed a similar-shaped explosive through the transparent glass of
the shuttle bay’s control room on the upper level on the left. Two seconds
later the explosion sent a violent explosive flurry of computer circuitry and
metallic debris raining over the shuttle bay, and another pirate hurtling
fifteen feet down and away, slamming into the top of an offline shuttle in the
far corner of the bay and then bouncing to the deck. TARGET-DOWN.
A
shuttle’s loading ramp was already down, and the shuttle’s computer and
propulsion systems nearly fully activated. Delta Force made quick work of
completing the preflight checks. Aaen took the front-left pilot’s seat and
quickly accessed the shuttle’s external sensor array. He started scanning for
the Translight and sublight engine signature for the traitor; The Commander was
looking over his shoulder while the deputy and the rest of the Force were
watching the shuttle’s entrance as the loading ramp was coming back up.
“Did you find it?” The Commander asked.
The
sensor array was still scanning in every direction for nearly a quarter of a
sector. . . A variety of technical data filled the scanner readout for several
seconds. Aaen turned his head, “Nothing yet,” he replied with disappointment. .
. Then the screen changed, “Wait. . .
THERE!” he pointed to a curvy line going through the center of the screen.
“He’s only at impulse, but the power signature of their ship suggests he’s
getting ready to go to Translight, on course for. . . Holy cow—the center of the Orion Triangle!” They would have to
intercept it before it gets that far.
Deeper into the hornet’s nest. . .
“The
loading ramp’s up and sealed.” the
deputy declared.
“Aaen, get us out of here.” The Commander
ordered sharply. “Pursuit course!”
Aaen was
direct but uneasy with the controls. The docking clamps disengaged without
fail, then he used the thrusters to maneuver toward the mouth of the bay.
“Someone
open the shuttle bay door!”
“No time!” The Commander sharply
declared, pointing to the deputy. “Get on
the tactical station. Charge cannons to full power and then FIRE!” then to
the other Force member. “Remodulate the
shields to refract their sensor scans!”
“Cannons charged—FIRING!” twin particle
beams shot forward. The bay door exploded into a blinding fiery yellow hole;
jagged metallic debris hurtled into a mushroom shape into space.
Aaen
brought the shuttle about to port and increased speed to maximum sublight
speed, intermittently glancing at the sensor scan readings. . . The engine wake
was becoming faint. The shuttle’s course was as parallel to the wake as was
going to happen with so many pirate ships surrounding the convoy. None of them
were shooting at them, a convenient detail Aaen took some comfort in.
“LET’S GO!” The Commander barked.
Aaen
used the shuttle’s main computer to calculate the distance from their target.
It was speeding up. Aaen determined they needed to go to Translight or their target would
be out of sensor range in less than thirty seconds.
“Increasing to Translight seven!” Seconds
later, after a bright white and blue flash of light, the stars became violently
passing streaks of light. “We’re traveling at nearly twice the target’s speed.
. .” he scanned for an intercept time, and then announced, “E-T-A. . . Ten seconds.” A sensor alert
sounded, and the readout on the screen flashed thrice.
“Red alert. Report.” The Commander demanded.
The white lights went dark as red lights along the cabin’s bulkheads and
framework lit the cabin and a three-second alarm sounded.
“The target’s changing course. . . It’s
going inside the nebula. . . What the heck?. . . It’s slowing to sublight
speed on a course that takes it dangerously close to several areas of densely-pocketed
radiation. If the spy gets too close,
it’ll die of radiation exposure in seconds.”
It
didn’t matter if the target was dead or alive when Delta Force finds it. . . The traitor was going to answer for what had
happened. “Follow it.” The
Commander snapped.
“The
spy’s shields have been adjusted to protect from the radiation. Ours hasn’t. This is gonna be dang close.”
“FOLLOW it!”
“Sir.” Aaen acknowledged, adjusting in
his seat and glaring forward, “slowing to sublight speed.” The stars became
still as the nebula began to get bigger in the view windows. The nebula looked
chillingly intimidating like it was almost live and looking curiously, malevolently
at the shuttle. Aaen’s mind filled with imagery of a skull-like face opening
its jaws lined with long, jagged teeth, and rushing toward the shuttle to
destroy it with a massive, overwhelming chomp. He shook his head, gasping, and
then said, “I need someone to scan the
way ahead so the computer can map out where the densest radiation pockets are.”
In the back of his head, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact the
shuttle’s sensors likely weren’t tuned to detect any pirate ships that might be
lurking in wait. . .
The
Commander took the other pilot seat and started the scan. Seconds later, the
sensor readout changed to show a 2-D map with variably sized blue, black and
purple fuzzy spots throughout the map. There
was darn-nearly virtually negligible navigational space between them. The
radiation levels must be incredible, he told himself. His hands were
starting to get clammy again. . . As a small logo representing the shuttle
quickly inched into the valley of death, he just kept adjusting his posture in
the seat, and telling himself, ‘. . .Steady
as she goes.’
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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