“Jones, can you get through their hull with our sensors at this range?” Aaen asked directly.
She made a few attempts in rapid succession, then slapped her knees leaned back and then turned her head disappointingly.
“Negative. Whatever they’ve done with their hull is blocking our scans.” Frankly, if a scanning beam of that amplitude can’t detect what’s going on in there, I seriously doubt anything Odyssey has will get through either, Jones noted. What Odyssey has isn’t so much as a fraction as powerful. Shoot!—They had eight minutes left. She looked at Smith. He read the look on her face and gasped.
“DANG IT!” Connors shouted slapping her desk and then facepalming with both hands. Half of the crew looked at her.
“What?” Smith asked.
“They cut me off! I only got 62 percent of their database. . .I’m decompiling the data. Maybe I can figure out who they are, and what they’re doing here?”
“Good thinking,” Smith legitimately complimented Connors’. “Let me know what you find out,” he commanded calmly and directly and went back to his work.
“Where are we at on the stealth field upgrade?” Aaen asked.
The engineer checked his screen, scanned the data, processed it as fast as he was capable and then quickly formulated an answer. “Almost done!”
“Will it be completed before that beam hits us?”
“Will it be enough to keep us from being detected?” Jones added without missing a beat. Aaen and Smith noted the panic building in her voice; she was still mostly focused on the data feeding to her screen.
Jorgensen scanned his screen. The technical data was as extensive as it was detailed. He read the data as quickly as comprehension allowed and then replied, “I think so! I’ve got every one of the engineering drones working on the upgrade as-we-speak. It shouldn’t take much longer. I’ll keep you updated, Commander.” and with that, the engineer sat upright and hastily worked to complete the upgrade.
—There was no more time to worry about this, Aaen decided without blinking. We have to find the Olyphium, Aaen told himself immediately. This thought struck Aaen like a heavy inflated rubber ball in the back. If we can’t find the Olyphium with our sensors, then we’ll have to try ‘Plan-B’. Aaen gut sank. He was really nervous now. For a few seconds, Aaen’s thoughts went back to year one. Plan-B was typically his least favorite option—and for good reason. He gasped. That quaint little mission development left at least a few crew members at the time with more than bumps and bruises. . . Since then, ordering his subordinates into dangerous situations in dangerous and largely unknown environments became ‘less appealing’—to put it mildly. Of course, everyone came back alive and in one piece, in one manner of speaking or another—but still. . . If Connors couldn’t download the information from their main computer, remotely, there was really only one alternative shy of—
Aaen shook his head, “Connors, Sandberg—you’re with me.” Aaen commanded, fast-walking to the weapons locker to retrieve a sidearm.
Smith looked at Aaen with a look of confusion. “What’s your plan, sir?” he asked directly.
“We’re going aboard that ship. We’ll find the Olyphium, and destroy it before they can distribute it to—” he waved his hand uncertainly, “whoever,”
“How do we know that hasn’t already happened?” Smith asked. We only got so much of their main computer database, and it took a few minutes to get even that far. How do we know the Olyphium isn’t already in the wind? What says we’re not already too late? He wondered.
“Because it’s too quiet.” If they had weaponized the Olyphium and sold it to who-knows-who, we wouldn’t be hovering feet below what has to be an alien battleship of some kind? Aaen wondered, looking back at the HUGE MASS that was ‘technically’ directly below them, relatively speaking. Freak, that ship’s huge! Aaen couldn’t help but note the fact Odyssey was about the same size as one of those running lights on the outside of the alien ship’s hull. Aaen guessed how big that ship really was, and what kind of potential ‘welcoming party’ might be waiting on board—he decided after a few seconds he didn’t want to know. The running lights were tiny from a distance, but up-close they were bright enough and had the numbers to form an effective make-shift runway if it had to be—if that was even possible. Aaen’s gut told him if the ship was huge, odds are: it’s probably armed for bear. He wasn’t prepared or, for that matter, willing to risk an armed confrontation with who or whatever the heck might be controlling of it. Not with so many other ships that, despite being smaller than the one feet away from Odyssey’s outer hull, were still GIGANTUAN compared to Odyssey. In Aaen’s mind, the matter was settled. No more discussion. The fewer subordinate casualties there were as possible at the end of the day, the better.
Connors and Sandberg collected their gear. Aaen took the headset with the video transmitter on the right lens and activated it. He could see clearly through both lenses, but the lens on the right had a special implant that was so fine it was impossible to see, even up close, that transmitted a secure video feed to the bridge that was channeled through Hayes’ computer and was visible in the viewscreen for the crew to watch to monitor what was going on with the away team—more importantly, Smith. The headset also sent a secure transponder beacon signal so it could be tracked on the sensors station.
“Getting a good signal from the monitor!” Hayes declared. A communications alert sounded. “Incoming coded long-range hail from New Horizon!”
Smith snapped. “On-speakers!”
Hayes was an expert at her line of work. In what seemed like seconds later, she turned around and declared, “Line connected! Line is secure!”
Aaen’s back straightened as he faced the viewscreen, “This is Captain Winter.”
“Captain, this is General Hound. Your most recent mission updated has been received.” Aaen, Smith, and the away team looked at Hayes with admiration and nodded at her having done an excellent job. “Our fleet is currently otherwise engaged and are too far away to be able to assist you. We are diverting more ships to support you, but our closest ships are an hour away from your position at maximum translight. Therefore, the British Navy has been discretely apprized of your situation through channels and is deploying the HMS Collins, Bright Bird, and Mason to your sector location. The Italian, German, Canadian, and Indian Navies are also deploying ships throughout several strategically critical space sectors to support also. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged, sir,” Aaen responded promptly.
“Further: as soon as possible, the U.S. Navy is deploying the USSC Aurora near your location along with a Shadow team. Captain, the Olyphium cannot be allowed into enemy hands. If you are unable to capture or destroy the Olyphium, the Shadows will take care of it. Further to follow. Out.”
Three low beeps confirmed the line disconnected.
I-won’t-let-that-happen, Aaen decided. “Connors, was the computer connection to you had to their mainframe detected?”
She turned her head, “Doesn’t look like it. They cut off the connection, but I was able to shut down our end of the interface before they could trace it.”
Good, Aaen thought, nodding. Aaen immediately turned to the away team, who were comparably armed as he was. “We board that ship, find the Olyphium, then capture or destroy it. We will take no-unnecessary-risks. Understood?”
The away team nodded in near-unison.
Aaen looked at Connors and Sandberg and nodded, “Let’s go,”
“You should be able to phase through whatever’s blocking our sensors. They seem to be more interested in preventing anyone from detecting whatever’s on board over there.” Jones observed. “The only thing I’m able to detect is minimal atmospheric details: the air is thinner, a couple-dozen degrees warmer, but there’s O2. You should be okay.”
“Understood,” Aaen acknowledged with a nod.
Connors and Sandberg followed Aaen to the phase pad, which was lit-up while in standby mode.
“I’ll get you over there,” Smith declared. He knew how to operate the phase pad, and was pretty good at it judging by the simulations from year-three, Aaen recalled. “Good luck.” What Smith omitted was that he had doubts about the plan, given the lack of pertinent data that would have put his doubts at ease. They still didn’t know what flag their destination flew under. Will they shoot first and ask questions later? Assuming Odyssey was even detected? What—if anything—does The Union know about whoever might be serving as a crew on that ship? They still didn’t know if there was going to be a ‘welcome party’ waiting for them, or not. . . Oh well. He told himself. He had a chance to voice any objections but he chose to hold back out of seemingly blind trust in Aaen’s judgment. He wondered, maybe he was right? There were all those simulations in year three. . .
Smith closed the hatch to the Phase Pad with his shoulder then immediately climbed up to and then sat at the Operations computer, pulled up the Phase Pad controls, entered the away team’s destination coordinates, and then activated the Pad.
The Pad gradually dimmed to cave darkness, and then the away team noticed the air was quickly getting thinner, and a lot warmer.
—Freak, it was hot! Aaen noted, wide-eyed and gasping hard, anxiously and quietly to get oxygen. This proved to be a struggle that he quickly learned was going to take more than a few seconds to get over. Seconds later, the away team’s new surroundings put them instantly on-edge.
Holy-shoot—Smith thought, sitting in the center seat and watching the video feed on the viewscreen. The inside of the away team’s destination was totally unlike what he had seen before. Smith was as anxious as he’d been in years. This was the first time he could recall when he faced the possibility of reporting to a flag officer that he hadn’t insisted on going on a dangerous away mission into an environment that they knew virtually nothing about aside from the fact that the ‘prize’ might still be on board. It was a big risk to take, especially professionally, and if the away mission went south, it would likely affect him personally for the rest of his life because he would have to live with himself knowing that whatever went wrong would have affected him, instead of the captain, and he likely would have been promoted after the fact. Part of him was having second thoughts—but it was too late for that now. Three crew members were separated from the rest of the ship, and all the rest of the crew could do at this point was watch and hope that nothing bad happens. . . Smith wasn’t the only one making two discrete fists to try to offset the negative emotions he was trying to hide. Stay focused, he told himself.
Everything Aaen looked at through the headgear was immediately and simultaneously being analyzed with different colored highlights, lines, and shapes by the main computer. Technical details appeared in various corners of the viewscreen, even down to molecular composition. “Odyssey, confirm five-by-five?”
“Roger that, Cap,” Smith responded immediately. That ship was so–dark, Smith noted. The aliens on board probably are used to a darker environment; ‘why’ was the next question that crossed his mind, but he dismissed it subconsciously to focus back on the away team—he leaned forward and put his weight on his elbows on his knees and coupled his hands. A darker interior means less visibility—he suddenly felt like someone punched him in the chest as the flurry of tactical possibilities burned across the back of his mind.
Aaen gestured for the away team to form a triangular formation—Sandberg and Connors nodded followed the order instantly; Aaen was the top of the triangle. He was taking cover around some kind of curved bulkhead. He gave the ship some credit one immediately evident detail: up close, it looked like it was built to take a real-heavy-beating. . .as though the new Odyssey was a technological quantum leap compared to where they had come from, and they hadn’t tested everything yet. He had never seen such hard-and-heavy duty infrastructure before. How are these aliens able to get from deck to deck? Looking around sharply, nothing appeared to be an internal elevator system. He had a hard time believing a ship this size was controlled remotely, much less that it could even be plausibly a drone. Then there was that churning gut feeling. He peeked left around from cover with his sidearm up.
“Cap, the data feed from your headgear is solid. The data suggests there are hundreds of organic life signs on board, not including the away team. Some of the life signs are above you, at the same level, and below you. Whatever that ship’s infrastructure’s comprised of, it’s preventing any absolute readings beyond twenty meters from your current location.”
This gave Jones an idea. She quickly scanned through Odyssey’s deployable technology—Odyssey had been a ‘science’ ship (a very debatable classification for this ship) and was now what was effectively a cross between spy and infiltrator ship and a cruiser. Five minutes left on the clock. She noted this data and handed it to Smith who read it and then looked back at the viewscreen, analyzing as much tactical and technical data as comprehension allowed. “Cap, the prize appears to be one level above you, and about fifty meters ahead.” Smith knew Aaen could see this on his headgear, but Smith also knew reading the data out to the away team helped the odds of the away team’s return to the ship safely were as high as they could be.
Jones recorded a suggestion and then handed it to Smith. He read it as quickly as the last updated she gave him. “You sure about this?” Smith asked her a second later.
Jones nodded.
Smith gave back the holographic fiberglass readout. “Standby,”
Jones returned to her station and began preparing her ‘suggestion’.
“Roger that, Odyssey,” Aaen was improvising at this point. There had to be a way to get there—he looked around briefly and then he gestured to Sandberg and Connors to proceed down the corridor. They kept their weapons up, panning right and left to the end of the corridor. The away team held and then Sandberg and Connors looked at Aaen. He nodded, gesturing for the away team to turn right. Aaen was following the yellow and blue highlights along the near-cave-dark corridor.
This corridor eventually branched off into at least two more eight right or left—all the same, there didn’t appear to be any adjacent rooms or other significant points of cover, in case there were any surprises.
We need more eyes over there, Smith reasoned, turned to Jones. “Ready?”
She nodded at him.
“On my command,” Smith ordered. Jones nodded acknowledgment.
The next gesture was to go left. . . Do the aliens really not know we’re here? Aaen wondered, reinforcing his hand position on his sidearm’s grip, keeping the sights sharply aligned as far ahead and between Connors and Sandberg as he could see—
Sandberg put his sidearm in his left hand as his right sharply rose. MOVEMENT! Sandberg gestured with his right hand, his sidearm sharply moved two inches left. Aaen gestured to hold. The trio stopped cold.
“Odyssey to away team: you’re directly below the prize’s location,” Smith declared.
“Roger,” Aaen replied whispered.
“Cap, Jones has a suggestion that she believes will likely give us a tactical edge,”
“Go ahead,” Aaen replied, indicating he wanted to hear more.
“She suggests deploying a liquid metal infiltration probe through one of the running lights along the alien ship’s ventral hull. She thinks it would be a viable way of confirming the prize’ location and would enable us to capture or destroy the prize, if necessary.”
“Copy that,” Aaen replied.
“She is standing by to deploy the probe on your command,” If the order came through, a football-sized metal ‘egg’ would launch from one of the forward torpedo tubes and then self-navigate to the coordinates Jones programmed into the probe’s navigational array. The probe would electromagnetically hover over the coordinates on the hull, and then the probe would travel in a perfect line between the running light and the hull. From there, Jones would pilot the probe through the ship’s inner workings. After reaching a tactically-advantageous vantage point, then solidify, like a fly on the wall, except it would be inside the wall, blending in as superbly as possible, and then the technology the probe was deployed with would become apparent.
“Odyssey,” Aaen’s whisper filled the bridge. “Do it.” The sounds of footsteps and the subtle echo of distant mumbling that was getting closer with every tick of the clock.
Smith nodded at Jones. She launched the probe, immediately nodding at Smith. He sat back in the center seat.
*****
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