“Yes, sir. Yes, sir—Roger that. No contact with Captain Winter as yet. We aren’t even sure if he’s still alive at this time—nor do we have reason to believe otherwise.” What he omitted was the fact he hoped that’s how the status-quo would stay, at least for now, until they could figure out some kind of rescue effort. “Furthermore, considering the mission variables as they are, now, and the fact Odyssey is unlikely to be successful in direct armed conflict with the aliens, I am curious about the use of full tactical measures. Over.”
“Roger that, Commander. Your orders are to continue to attempt to contact Captain Winter and maintain pursuit of the aliens to their destination. Follow the Olyphium until you can either retrieve it or destroy it. The Union ships deployed to support you are going to intercept the alien ship before it can reach its destination. No-matter-what: Captain Winter is to be recovered from the alien ship, the alien ship is not to make it to their destination, and the Olyphium is to be recovered, or destroyed, if necessary. If all-else-fails, the Shadows will intervene. A Shadow team is being deployed from USSC Aurora. Further to follow. Out.”
“Understood and acknowledged,” Smith replied, and then the line closed with silence. Hayes replaced the handset. Some conversations with flag officers required command-level-only security via a handset.
Smith returned to the center seat and eyed the alien ship in the middle of the viewscreen. Technical data about the alien ship continued to appear after passive sensor scans. None of it eased his anxiety over the tension of the moment. The alien ship’s engines were glowing brightly at Translight velocity. Odyssey was struggling to keep up with them, but Wilson proved to be adept with adjusting the propulsion system power levels to keep the Translight drive system sufficiently powered to keep them within 300 meters of Odyssey’s bow, and still be clear of any transit hazards, as Smith expected. Still, Smith felt compelled to say, “Steady as she goes, Helm,”
“Aye,” Wilson lowly acknowledged with a stiff, anxious breath. He was obviously focused, something Smith didn’t want to upset.
Smith used a maintenance ladder next to the phase pad to get to deck two. Aside from metal storage containers full of spare engineering parts and components, and other similar materials that were locked down in one section of the deck, and the ship’s computer specialist was doing busy technical work in their small adjacent ‘office?’ in the far corner, there was also a small ‘closet’ space with a food generator that functioned similarly to the phase pad. Smith ordered a four-ounce plastic container of water. He cupped his left hand and then carefully poured about half of the container’s contents into his cupped hand and then rubbed the water over his face, then drank the rest. He didn’t want the rest of the crew to see him like this—stressed, anxious, and unsure of what the ‘right’ order is to give. Special forces were on their way, along with ‘backup’ that should supposedly stop the cap’s captors from getting where they’re supposed to go. . . Smith gasped. Odyssey hadn’t failed, yet. His face felt dry so he returned to the bridge, sat in the center seat, and watched the viewscreen.
“Hayes, are you getting anything from the captain’s headgear?” Smith asked.
“No, sir.”
A sensor alert sounded, “I’m picking up three ships approaching from long-range from our eight o’clock. They’re ours!”
“No fourth ship?” Smith asked.
Jones turned her head. “Negative,” She wondered, are we expecting there to be a fourth ship?
He stood in the center of the bridge, scanning and assimilating the technical data filling various areas of the viewscreen. The long-range sensor data was detailed, but he wanted a more exact set of readings. He turned left, “XO—deploy Shadow Eye.”
The XO was standing at-ease with his hands coupled behind his back facing the captain—er, General—but scanned the rest of the dark blue-lit bridge to make sure things were running smoothly, then immediately acknowledged the order and snapped to carry it out. The order was carried out within five seconds. A tactical screen on the left showed the ship was on alert-level-three and the reconnaissance probe had shot out from a car-sized opening on the port-ventral side of the hull. As soon as the microcomputer calculated the necessary distance had been attained, the probe seemingly ‘submerged’ under the fabric of space and near-instantly flew away at a translight speed that was, at least for the moment, impossible for any larger spacecraft to attain. These probes were designed to get up close and personal with a recon subject and essentially break the target down to the molecules that comprise its exterior, or hull, in the case of a ship. And they excelled at their designed purpose!
The probe entered the range of its target in what seemed like seconds, coming along the subject’s port side, heading high and starboard over its dorsal side—and the data was already pouring in. . . After a few minutes (but in a seeming blink of an eye), the General picked up a handset resting on a narrow podium-like stand to his right and pushed the button for the lower deck.
“Deploy. Deploy. Deploy.”
“Roger that,” Daniel Storm replied into his radio headgear built into the right side of his head armor. This armor engulfed his head and connected to the torso piece of his combat armor, complete with sonic-pulse-encrypted radio, ultra-light-weight-full-body armor that extended to his combat boots, regenerative oxygen supply, thermal lining (to protect against the vacuum of space, and to shield them from thermal sensory instrumentation), and his rifle and sidearm, holstered, suppressed, and they carried plenty of ammunition for both. Any other military special operators would know to get-outta-the-way. But that wouldn’t happen, because they were Shadows. Nobody else would see even one of them unless the Shadows wanted to be seen. A circular hand gesture went into the air and spread like a most perfect gust of wind throughout the rest of the nineteen metallically-pitch-black-dressed Interplanetary Shadow Forces operators standing in the middle of the cargo hangar bay. They were ready to go. Their mission orders were clear. They were headed for Odyssey. From that point, things were gonna change on that ship until this crisis was resolved. Storm walked to the front and sharply gestured to proceed to the back of the hangar bay. Microscopic sensors built into the suit’s lining fed tactical information to the suit’s heads-up-display, showing them all subtly colored highlights of their immediate area wherever they looked. Similar technology built inside their facial armor tracked their eye movements so the micro-computer built into their back armor knew what data to show them. Bio-neural circuitry in the helmet detected a certain brainwave in the wearer’s mind which told the microcomputer how far to scan.
“Inform Odyssey the Shadows are deploying off their port-stern. Odyssey is to maintain their current course.” the General commanded. That order was carried out before he had a chance to shift his weight again. “Save the data. Recall the drone.”
Hayes answered the hail. “Go for Odyssey. . . Roger that. Out.” She turned to Smith. “Sir, the Shadows are deploying off our port stern. E-T-A: two minutes. We have been ordered to maintain our present course,”
“Wilson, steady as she goes,” Smith commanded, deeply wondering what it was going to be like to have the Shadows onboard. Something told him he was militarily going to be in over his head really soon. “Hayes, inform the rest of the crew,”
She knew what she was talking about. Hayes opened a comm channel to both decks and made the announcement. The rest of the crew immediately wondered the same thing.
“Jones, are you detecting any ships in that direction?” Smith asked, facing forward and eyeing the viewscreen.
Jones ran several scans covering every known detectable space-faring object—then turned her head, “No, sir. There’s nothing there.” There hasn’t been anything there this whole time. . . Her curiosity had been piqued. Frankly, so was Smith’s. They were all wondering, what was gonna happen next. . .?
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
Another reader told Jordan Foutin about his novel, DANIEL STORM, "Absolutely life changing. God bless you for this piece of art."
DANIEL STORM, a Jordan Foutin eBook, is available for $8.99 at any of these fine online retailers:
smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)
apple iBooks (This link is best viewed on iPhone or iPad)
Make sure to buy your copy today, and like and share!
Make sure to like the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest, including when DANIEL STORM will be available on Amazon.com for Kindle eBook and softcover! Coming soon!
No comments:
Post a Comment