The icon began to inch across the screen suddenly at twice the speed that it had been. New technical details were flowing along the right-hand-side of the sensor officer’s screen, and she realized this meant telling the General something she knew he didn’t want to hear. She took a deep breath as she turned and declare, “Sir! Target is adjusting course on a new heading!”
“Where are they going?” the XO asked sharply and directly. The General turned his head and displayed an angry look.
She had already started computing the new navigational details, but the target’s course changes were virtually continuous—she realized, at best, she would only be able to report an estimate—but before she could answer, the XO stood over her shoulder and commanded, “Put their projected trajectory on screen one,”
She carried out the order immediately. Both the General and the XO scanned the data. The General was fixed on it. The XO looked at the General and recognized the look on his face—their target’s destination appeared to go in at least three very different directions, each color-coded based on computer-projected probability based on the target’s most consistent course changes. The target was maneuvering almost evasively—the General reasoned that was more a precaution than a reaction to their presence; however, they might have detected the other pursuing ships. . . Wherever the target was headed, it didn’t seem too concerned about their being pursued. But why? He wondered. Multiple possible tactical scenarios crossed his synapses—a few of the more than once.
The communications officer turned in their chair, “Sir! The Shadows have arrived on Odyssey!”
“Very well! Maintain silent running. Match target’s course and speed,”
“Aye!”
The doctor released Connors to her station. She wasn’t 100%, but she was healed enough to be able to function. She seemed slightly dazed but coherent.
“Stay with ‘em, Wilson!” Smith ordered.
“Trying! They’re accelerating at an incredible rate!. . .” he gasped, then paused. “I’m having a time trying to keep up! Can I get more power to the antigrav thrusters?”
Smith turned to find Connors back at her station. “Can you give us any more power to the thrusters?”
She looked at the readings on her screen, then turned her head and replied, “Negative. Any more power to any other system will mean we won’t have enough power to maintain stealth mode.”
That wasn’t an option, Smith had gauged the situation.
“Uh, Keptin’!” Demitri called through the bridge speakers.
“What is it, Dimitri?” Smith asked.
“We have, uh. . .guests. They’re on their vay to da bridge,”
Hayes turned around and declared, “The Shadows are onboard!”
The locks to the bridge hatch disengaged in perfect metallic sequence, catching the attention of nearly all of the bridge crew. The hatch swung open as six identically darkly dressed commandos walked onto the bridge.
Smith turned around to find one of the taller of the group had approached him and made eye contact, “Are you, Smith?” He could only see what looked like a pristine, opaque metallic facial armor plate; the speaker’s voice was seemingly digitized and coming from all around him.
Smith nodded and replied, “Yeah, I’m Smith.”
“Commander, me and my team will be remaining on board for the remainder of this mission. I am assuming operational command until further notice. You will remain in command of this ship as acting-captain until Captain Winter is safely back on board.”
Smith nodded, “Understood,” Special forces were on board—and that tone of voice. . .The protocol was correct: when special forces are on board during a time of crisis when the ship is involved, the tactical command is with the special forces team. . . For the time being, Smith was temporarily going to step aside and let the professionals do what they needed to do. This just got real.
*****
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