The
ship-to-ship comm-link channels with New
Horizon were dead-silent—there
was nothing coming in, or going out—to anyone. This made the landing somewhat easier this time than
lifting off—though there was an awkwardness about that part of the flying process
with so many otherwise routine steps skipped, Wilson mused. This made him more
antsy about flying so close to a flying giant whose shadow and hull hilariously blanketed Odyssey. The forward-facing bridge crew
members noted in variable silence that every one of New Horizon’s running lights were dark, and its hull’s angle
constantly subtly slightly shifted as though the officer at the helm had fallen
asleep at the proverbial wheel and no one else on the bridge was stepping in to
take control of the spacecraft to avoid a collision with the flying giant’s
surroundings. Worse—there was barely enough sunlight coming through to tell
that nearly all of the external docking port doors were variably open. . .
Wilson
was having a tough time adjusting Odyssey’s
approach angle because of this. New
Horizon’s behavior didn’t make sense, Aaen silently decided, watching the
docking port ahead shift as Wilson angled the hull to match its destination—the
docking bay floor drew closer to the middle of the viewscreen—and then he listened
to the slightly muffled THUDs from Odyssey’s landing gear magnetically
attaching to the docking port’s floor.
“Okay, people—docking clamps are secure. We’re down and locked-in,”
Wilson declared.
Hayes
kept her right hand over her right ear and turning her head, “There’s still nothing from New Horizon—though there’s tons
of comm chatter from the rest of the Armada. They’re all trying to contact them, Captain,” What-the-heck? There are over 100,000
military personnel and civilians on
board that thing!
Jones
turning her head, “Still no measurable
power readings from New Horizon—anywhere,” Jones reported doubtfully.
“Based on their current orbit, speed and trajectory, New Horizon’s going to hit the planet’s atmosphere in three hours,” she gasped.
That
would be like Mount Kilimanjaro hitting the planet’s atmosphere, to say nothing
about their orbital speed. The two-trillion-dollar interstellar spacecraft
carrier had enough mass to easily take out a small continent if it were to
crash land. . . Aaen, Smith, and Connors’ guts sank to their ankles. Aaen and
Smith silently shared the curiosity that was subconsciously reverberating
through the bridge—too many things
weren’t adding up for either of their command comforts. . . Every crew
member could hear the attempts to get more answers about why this giant wasn’t
moving on its own and under its own power. Each crew member looked around and
turned their heads in disappointment. The next thought and then questions to
cross their minds was about what their Captain was going to do next—
Aaen
wanted answers. No. He needed them, he candidly decided in the back of his mind,
and neither he nor the rest of the crew were going to get them in here. He turned
around, “Jones, are you reading atmosphere out there?”
She
nodded, “Yeah, just enough to sustain
human life. Artificial gravity’s stable for now, though I wouldn’t recommend
going for a long stroll.” She turned in her chair, “Sir?”
Aaen
looked around his bridge, “Lieutenant
Connors, Lieutenant-Commander Sandburg, Lieutenant-Commander Jorgensen: prepare
to go aboard New Horizon. We’re going
to get some answers,” Aaen commanded. “Jones, monitor our position while we’re
out. See if you can find anything else out of the ordinary over there.
Commander: you are to maintain an open comm link with the away team. Be prepare
to phase us back if there’s a problem”
Both
officers acknowledged their orders.
“Captain?”
Smith curiously looked at Aaen. “What do
you think we’re going to find?” Aaen read the look on his face and replied
with a serious look. Smith took this as an indicator and nodded as he closed the
hatch behind the away team.
Aaen
retrieved his mobile and then began transmitting to Odyssey’s bridge, “Smith, open
the ramp.” He holstered the mobile, “Away team: be ready for anything,” his voice echoed slightly through the cargo
deck. He wasn’t sure what was out there—this eerie uncertainty made him a
little more than slightly anxious about whether or not there might be something or someone out there who might have less-than-friendly intentions. Get a hold of yourself, and stay focused, Aaen kicked himself
mentally as his eyes traced right and left while he listened to air hissing
from the corners of the hatchway, listening to the subtle, sharp metallic clicks of the ramp’s multiple clamp-like
locks disengaging, followed by the mechanical groan of the ramp’s motors
inching the ramp to the docking bay floor. The away team quickly marched out,
panning their lights—and especially in Sandberg’s case—raising and panning their
pistol particle weapon.
The
bay was dark except for Odyssey’s
running lights, which provided enough light to see for about twenty feet in any
direction, and the away team’s flashlights, which were comparably bright—but
more focused—which meant the light would reveal more of the bay. The away team
were immediately in awe at the size of the docking bay. They each thought the
place was, in variable wording—HUGE! And
extremely spacious. Their flashlights couldn’t reach the ceiling. They felt
like they were in a virtually empty, open-ended cave in almost every direction.
For the most part, this bay was made of some kind of highly-refined metal. . .steel, maybe? He wondered. The bay was
full of cargo crates and unpowered fighter craft that looked as though they were
at some point in the process of being prepared for launch. His curiosity nearly
overwhelmingly piqued, Aaen shined his light on one of the closer fighters and noted
the cockpit was open but dark like
the rest of the bay outside of the visible area. Aaen half-wondered if they
should check to see if there was anyone inside the cockpit. . .? But held back.
A decade of spooky movies crept into the back of his mind, and as much as he
recognized cinema was cinema—the thought of walking into an eerie dark space made
the bay seem more forbidding. Besides, this place was getting a tad chilly for some reason. . .and the
darkness was very thick. He put his hand on his pistol weapon, then took a deep
breath and turned to Connors.
“Alright.
Where’s the door?”
She
tapped a few of her scanning device’s controls, turning a few times as though
navigating with a compass (not really), then turned left and pointed with her
left hand, “There’s a large armored door straight that way. Watch your step for
a bunch of crates and other light and heavy equipment that’s lying around.” This
struck her as being highly militarily unorthodox. At this moment, she and Aaen
shared the same thought in silence.
Aaen
heard stuttered breathing behind him a few paces.
“You
alright, Mr. Jorgensen?” Aaen asked directly, adjusting his tone to indicate he
had noticed the sound and was asking himself if he needed to send a crew member
back to the ship. He doubted this very much.
“Y-Yessir,” he nearly croaked.
“Don’t worry,” Connors assured him as the
away team navigated a pile of mechanical equipment, “We’re almost there, just
have another two hundred yards and then there’s a door.”
Jorgensen
gasped, “Great,”
“Don’t
like the dark?” Aaen asked with a moderate smile. If not, you picked a heck of a career! All-things-considered. . .you are in space, after all.
Connors
paused for a step, eying a green dot on her handheld scanner, which abruptly
turned red, then white, then blinked
out. Only another 50 meters to go—
Aaen
noticed her pause and put his light on her, “Lieutenant?”
She
looked up, turned her head as though embarrassed and confused, and then kept
walking at-pace with the rest of the away team, “Sorry, sir. Coming”
“Anything
we need to know about?” Aaen asked.
“What?”
Sandburg asked intently from the lead.
“Nothing! Nothing.” Connors replied. I sure-as-heck hope it was ‘nothing’.
She told herself, glancing at the handheld’s screen more frequently, but was
careful to be subtle about the fact she was anticipating another ‘blip’. The
fact the scanner couldn’t discern what the ‘blip’ was was a little nerve-wracking
for her; worse, it couldn’t tell if whatever it detected was Union or not. The
fact the ‘blip’ changed color coding so many times made her a little more than
nervous.
The
scanner read the twin doors to the docking bay as being six inches thick, and a
combined fifty feet wide from the center. They were made of a highly advanced
form of steel, and the doors’ armor added another three inches and was even denser than the doors. They were
motion-activated, but the sensors lining the doorway were offline.
An eerie, seemingly
mechanical, scream-like echo flooded through the bay. The away team snapped into a fan
formation, feeling a brisk chill run up their spines, and raised their
flashlights and their pistol particle weapons outward.
“WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?” Jorgensen
shouted in a near-panic, Aaen detected.
“New Horizon’s on a decent course, Mr.
Jorgensen. That sound might have been nothing,”
he had a few doubts about that much. “Connors,
are you detecting any movement other than us in here?”
Connors
did another scan and turned her head as she read the results, “Negative! According to these scans,
aside from the rest of our crew, there’s no one else in here,” she felt doubt in her gut about the de-facto
integrity of that response.
“Let’s get these doors open. Find out what
the heck happened here,” Aaen commanded. Jorgensen was quick to begin
working to open the doors. A manual override was going to take a minute—to him,
that felt like it might as well be an
eternity.
The
away team noted another eerie echo swept
through the bay—this one was a little louder. The away team suddenly felt a
little more uncomfortable at their
position in the bay. With that uneasy
feeling seemingly chilling the air, Aaen held up his handheld and transmitted, “Odyssey, we’re at the docking bay’s
entrance—and we’re hearing some strange sounds coming from all around us.
Commander Smith. . .can you confirm we’re
the only people in here?”
“Weird.
Uh, yeah, that’s affirmative, Cap. All-the-same, we’ll re-double our scans. I’ll
have Dimitri try to interface with New
Horizon’s computer mainframe to see if we can find some more answers for
you,”
“Roger.
Keep us informed.”
“The
override isn’t working!” Jorgensen reported. “There’s a break in the panel
interface and New Horizon’s main
computer. We might have to—”
A flurry of violent sparks shot
from between the two doors for five seconds—then metallic clangs filled the air, then the doors gradually parted by two feet.
“I thought you said the manual
override didn’t work?” Aaen asked Jorgensen.
Jorgensen looked at Aaen
wide-eyed and paused. “It didn’t.”
*****
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