Dark Echoes - Part 3

Boy! Aaen silently exclaimed, thinking in the back of his mind, that guy wasn't kidding! He mentally noted the stars were barely visible at such speeds. Frankly, it was hard to visually track so many fading blurs through the hysterical swirling Translight funnel. But what piqued his immediate situational curiosity was the fact that there seemed to be increasingly fewer stars by the moment. Where the heck is 'here' he wondered. 

"Jones—you getting anything?” Aaen asked.

Jones turned her head and threw her palms in front of her in frustration. Something about the seeming ‘nothingness’ out there spooked her—reminding her about part of her past—as she formulated her response, “Negative. This is almost a freaking dead zone. Even long-range sensors aren’t detecting anything—not even microbes!” What she didn’t do was verbally marvel at how much more precise even the long-range sensors had become after the little ‘tune-up’. As though things hadn’t already been advanced by leaps-and-bounds already!

The crew manning stations at the front of the bridge felt a reverberating cold chill down their spines. Hayes looked over her left shoulder at Smith. They exchanged a direct look; while Smith Hayes’ was more steely than concerned. Something in the way he was subtly lowering his eyebrows. . .

A sensor alert. Wilson’s computer screen flashed thrice. Both officers snapped, deeply immersed in the data feeding to their respective screens.

“We’re four minutes away from destination!” Wilson declared.

“Yeah. And the density of the space in this area—wherever we are—is. .increasing!”

“What?” Smith asked bluntly.

“Captain!—We’re slowing down!” Wilson shouted.

“How far out are we?” Aaen asked. Jones noticed the sensor resolution had, she guessed, quintupled.

The engines’ muffled hum gradually groaned to a digital whine, an effect that was also quickly declining—“We’re dropping to sublight speed!” the chaotic funnel dissipated; the stars became visible, Aaen and Smith noted. Wilson couldn’t help but notice and was caught off-guard at the fact that there weren’t any stars visible to his navigational instrumentation. He found himself wide-eyed as he looked over his right shoulder at Hayes.

—Hayes’ screen flashed. She snapped to access the message. It was a long-range message that had come in from a source. . .which was also coded, she mentally noted. This encoding frequency was going to take a little work. It was work she was swift in starting and was intent on finishing quickly.

“How far out?” Aaen asked.

Wilson checked the data his computer, “Three minutes—if we maintain maximum sublight,” he was still trying to get used to reading the new way to describe ‘impulse’ speed, much less accustomed to using that term regularly. None of the crew were, yet.

“Commander!” Jones shouted, eyeing her computer. “I just saw like. . .” Smith turned and saw her tracing her finger around the external sensor grid. . . “what appeared to be fifteen sensor echoes. They appeared and disappeared like someone walked fast in front of a spotlight,”

Aaen and Smith shared a steely look, then Aaen turned to Wilson, “Standby to engage sublight engines at full power,” Aaen commanded, his attention quickly turned directly to the aft-most section of the bridge. “Commander Jorgensen, what do you make of the new stealth system?”

He saw Jorgensen’s torso moving slightly left to right as he finished a technical diagnostic.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, Cap. Whoever built this technology—they weren’t human. I’d say we could theoretically pass within ten feet of a Star Base—” er-‘Forward Operating Base’, or whatever they’re called here, he reminded himself, “and they wouldn’t know it. Heck! I’d say we’ve got a good chance of being able to fire weapons while this thing’s running and we still would be pretty much completely invisible!”

That’s what Aaen needed to know. Smith anticipated his Captain’s next order as he watched him turn around in his chair at Wilson, “Proceed, Commander! Commander Sandberg: engage silent running. Lieutenant Connors: activate the stealth system,”

“Dimitri to Keptin! I concur with de’ Engineer! I’m steel trying to figure ze’ new stealth system out! This tech is unvelievable!”

The sublight engines’ activated without a problem. The crew enjoyed the smooth, subtle mechanical grumbling. Jones noted they crossed the edge of known space in ten seconds. . . She asked herself, what were those sensor anomalies?

In what seemed like seconds later, Hayes' screen flashed thrice again. She snapped upright at the data pouring onto her screen—there it is! “Senor contact at twelve o’clock!”

Aaen sat upright in his chair and commanded, “On-screen!”

*****

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Dark Echoes - Part 2

After taking a much-needed shower and dressing in a change of clothes and a fresh, pressed uniform he found hanging on the inside of the facilities room eight feet from his hospital bed, Aaen carried the black envelope with him to the recreation deck to greet his crew. They would most likely be in the ship doing pre-launch procedures, he reminded himself. He picked up the black briefing and proceeded through an organized maze of well-lit metal corridors, walking briskly past station crew members to the hangar deck.

His ship was resting in a cargo bay full of personnel dressed for various technical engineering duties, some of which pertained to his Odyssey. The back ramp was down and a cargo delivery was being anti-gravity lifted into Odyssey’s cargo hold. Maybe they were loading a few more torpedo warheads?. . Who knows, Aaen told himself, dismissing the possibility. He waited for the lift to clear the foot of the ramp before he walked up the ramp, then quickly made his way to deck one. As he expected, the bridge was abuzz with his rested, enthusiastic bridge crew performing prelaunch systems checks. They looked rested and emotionally relieved to have been able to talk to their families for however long before going on duty. The Union had a proud and formidable military. Part of that achievement was making sure its personnel maintained contact with those closest to them. The average secured video chat time was usually about thirty minutes to an hour; longer for anyone at or above an Ensign. The crew had concluded their video chats with a smile. When Commander Smith noticed their Captain approaching the airlock door, he snapped-to and shouted, “CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE!”

In an instant, they stopped what they were doing and then snapped to attention behind the facing seat to their respective computer terminal, facing the airlock door to the bridge. Aaen stepped onto his bridge and looked around, noting a subtle change in air pressure from the hangar bay. Despite a moment of light-headedness, Aaen grinned and looked around in appreciation for the military gesture—he was equally as eager to give his first order of the day with a slight grin as he took his seat and faced aft, “At ease,” their stance at attention relaxed immediately as they looked at their commanding officer in the field. This was a crew who was happy to see their captain on board, in part because they knew their captain was glad to see them up and about.

“Crew, as you may already know, the orders we were given have been re-issued to two other crews. We have a new assignment, and we’re to launch by 21-hundred-hours,”

The crew acknowledged with a nod.

“Sir,” Smith approached the center seat offering a print detailing the prelaunch check results. Good, Aaen nodded, she was ready to launch. It was 20:59 hours.”

“Alright, let’s get to our launching stations,”

Smith pointed at Hayes, “Commander Smith to all hands! Prepare for departure!”

She nodded and immediately began to transmit the message throughout the ship using the ship’s internal computer network.

Aaen looked forward and slightly to his right, “Lieutenant Hayes, patch me through to all decks,” Aaen commanded. She nodded acknowledgment. The first officer’s order had been relayed swiftly.

After adjusting a few controls on her computer, Hayes turned to the Captain. “Channel open, sir,”

Aaen held the black briefing on his lap and leaned forward at his viewscreen, eyeing the astronomical technical information displayed by the main computer. “Attention: all hands. This is your Captain speaking. As you already know, our orders have been reassigned to other ships in this sector. We have new orders,” he now had the crew’s undivided attention as his voice echoed throughout the ship. “Union Fleet Command has received word of the detection of a possible ship in distress in a distant region of space we know next to nothing about. We don’t know what the ship’s name is, but its design and configuration indicate it may be the product of human hands. Prior attempts to reach the ship have been unsuccessful—several probes has been launched to investigate and every one of the probes have been lost without a trace; presumably destroyed, likely by other interested parties for reasons as yet unknown. Right now, the only Intelligence we have is a signal the ship sent out and that was received on Earth: a simple, albeit distorted transponder code. Our orders are to intercept that ship and investigate, then report back to Command. Should our safety be threatened, or that of the other ship, we are to take any-and-all action necessary to protect ourselves, and the other ship. Command wants us to depart immediately in case the other ship is the target of a hostile agenda by any other interstellar government. More to follow. Principally, this is a reconnaissance mission. That mission status may change at any time, so try to be prepared for anything that might come our way. All hands: report to your duty stations. This is your Captain.” he gestured for the line to be closed. Three beeps confirmed the order was carried out quickly.

“Begin launch procedures,” Aaen commanded. Smith coordinated the launch protocols. In what seemed like only a few moments, Jones confirmed the personnel in the docking bay had been evacuated for safety purposes. If the environmental stabilization field were to malfunction at all, no one and nothing would be lost to the endless vacuum of space. Wilson raised the docking clamps and then expertly maneuvered the bow to the environmental stabilization field.

“Take us out—one-half-impulse,” Aaen recognized the term and remembered that sub-light speed was called something different, now. Old habits die hard, he assured himself.

“Set course for grid sector one-zero-one-four-five-eight,” Aaen commanded.

“Where is that?” Hayes asked.

Wilson checked his navigational charts, then responded, “Waaaay the heck out in the middle o’ nowhere,” he replied, modifying his tone to convey how distant and unknown their destination was. The technical data appearing on the right-hand side of his screen told him there was no reason for anyone to go there. But, he wondered, why would anyone know that unless—

His computer screen indicated the course had been successfully laid-in. The stars immediately began shifting in the viewscreen, and the crew could feel the subtle shifts in gravity from neighboring planets in this solar system, and the artificial gravity and inertia dampening array integrated into the hull commanding the brief, mild nausea away.

“Course laid in, sir. What speed?” Wilson asked Aaen.

“Translight factor nine,”

Wilson nodded wide-eyed and then executed the command on his screen.

Seconds later, Odyssey’s nacelles rapidly lit up and then the hull seemingly vanished into the distance as it was quickly engulfed in a swirling funnel of low-intensity black and white light.

“E-T-A: fifteen minutes at present speed,” Wilson declared.

“Very well, Helmsman,” Smith acknowledged.

Aaen recalled that the stealth system had been drastically upgraded. He thought about that, and what that three-star told him earlier this evening, and rhetorically mentally asked himself, ‘Why would that be necessary?’ Aaen hadn’t put in a request for any major upgrades to any particular system mainly because he didn’t see such heavy-duty ship maintenance as being necessary. . . Who did? He wondered, looking at his viewscreen, and why would they have thought any upgrade on the stealth system—of all of this ship’s systems—was necessary?

*****

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Dark Echoes - Part 1

He recognized that smell, it was like soap—but he couldn’t venture a guess as to where it was coming from. And that sound. . . He was lying down on what he therefore reasoned was a comfortable, padded biobed in the sickbay. The subtle, pronounced beeps of the vital signs monitor, and the smell of some food that he immediately in the back of his mind decided he was going to ‘save’ for later. He recalled the last twelve hours’ developments: Odyssey had received coded orders relayed from New Horizon to report to a Forward Operating Base (FOB) for ship repairs to Odyssey, and crew rest before heading out. . .somewhere. . .where were they headed again? And when? He wondered in silence. His gut told him it would be soon, but the question lingered in his mind. The fact that he knew where he put their new orders gave him a sense of confidence and an internal assurance that no matter what the fine print details were, he would be able to pull them up and then refer to them when the time came. He recalled he was on a biobed because he had been ordered to report to the FOB for physical and psychological evaluation. When one is the hostage in a hostage situation, psychologists, especially in the military, always reason that there is a possibility of long-term psychological effects that could impair one’s ability to command a military vessel, regardless of what it was constructed for. The psychological evals were easy enough, but he wondered about the medical. Something in the back of his mind sent what felt like an electrical zap down his spinal cord and right to his heart where it tickled and then he had a gut feeling that someone with a medical degree was going to come to visit him soon to break the news to him one way or the other, or perhaps someone else who might have those answers, or just a summary of them. He was still wearing his duty uniform.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Yep, it was a medical facility of some sort on a space station. The TV was on and showing the latest news report. The clock in the lower-right-hand corner of the screen said it was 18:00 hours, local time, which he immediately mentally translated to 6pm. He always preferred telling time the way civilians did. Adding an additional hour to the clock for every hour past noon was simple math, but he judged it as being somewhat redundant and unnecessary, even though he understood the underlying reason why the military used that system. An eerie suspicion could turn into something worse and actionable quickly if care wasn’t taken in regards to something as simple as keeping the time. All-things-considered, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He let his mobile handle that most of the time, anyway, if he had any questions.

Aaen’s attention shifted to a tray table on his right, where he found a small stack of security envelopes bound together in a rubber band. He thumbed through each of the envelopes in no particular order and thumbed them open. There was an envelope from his parents, one from each of his few siblings’, one from a couple of his friends. He read the letters and quickly intellectually metabolized the contents: mom and dad sent their love and shared the fact of mom’s business making substantially more profit this year than last, which translated very handsomely in her take-home income. Dad was up to his usual this-and-that. Aaen’s siblings respective situations were variably the same—in that, they were all happy and taking care of life’s little challenges in one form or another. His friends shared some funny stories that he had a little laugh at . . . he began thinking about taking some shore leave—

A few sharp knocks on his room’s door caused the only door in and out of the room to open slightly. Aaen saw a six-foot-nothing white male with short dark hair and dressed in a black navy officer’s uniform with vice admiral’s rank insignia on the jacket’s wrist cuffs. Aaen tried to stand up and salute but was immediately waved off. The admiral carried his uniform cap under his left elbow and stepped inside the room enough to close the door behind him.

“At ease, Captain,” he ordered calmly, maintain a plain look on his face.

“Admiral,” Aaen said with some anxiety in his voice, an indicator the admiral picked up on but maintained his expression. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“The orders you received, Captain, have been reassigned to two other ships. You need not concern yourself with them anymore.” The admiral said.

Aaen felt like he had been caught slightly off-guard, but accepted the statement with a nod.

“Your medical examination results came back satisfactory. You’ve been cleared by the facility’s Chief Medical Officer to return to duty,” That much was a relief, Aaen decided as the admiral handed him a black security folder that was controlled by a thumbprint scanner on the bottom-right-hand corner of the cover. “What I’ve just handed you are your new orders, effective immediately.” Aaen touched his right thumb to the device which scanned his thumbprint and then unsealed the contents of the folder. Aaen immediately realized the document’s contents were “CLASSIFIED - EYES ONLY”.

He scanned the first paragraph of the document, then wide-eyed look up at the admiral.

“We’ve been hearing some of what has been called ‘dark echoes’ in a region of space we don’t know very much about, and there are some unusual characteristics of these ‘echoes’ that has Union Intelligence feeling a little nervous. Your ship is being repaired as we speak and is being upgraded as-needed, especially the stealth system. You and your crew leave in forty-eight hours. After you complete this mission, you’re eligible to take some shore leave. I believe you have a couple of months saved up.”

Aaen acknowledged what he had been told with a nod and replied, “Yes, sir,” he wondered, nervous about what, exactly?

“After you close that folder, the contents will be destroyed. Your crew is on the recreation deck talking with their families on secure lines. Meet with your crew when you’re ready. Good luck, Captain,” the admiral said with a nod as he exchanged a salute with Aaen, then walked out of the room.

Aaen continued reading the written briefing—

*****

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