Dark Echoes - Part 12

The weapons lock alarm screamed through the bridge as Jones snapped, “INCOMING FROM FOUR O’CLOCK-HIGH! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” Jones shouted feeling like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. The bridge crew suddenly held onto their stations.

“EMERGENCY EVASIVE!” Smith commanded. “HARD TO PORT!”

“’HARD TO PORT’, AYE!” Wilson snapped to respond to the order. In what seemed like a split section, a blinding white violent explosion filled the viewscreen, sharply lighting up the bridge. The hull shuddered so sharply the ship rocked suddenly and rolled to port, throwing the crew to the floor as a backpack tossed flagrantly aside like a car in a violent tornado. Wilson reached for his console and used the thrusters to adjust the ship’s relative position.

The rest of the crew gradually managed to climb back up to their seats and immediately began searching for new information on their computers. Aaen leaned into his seat, breathing heavily, noting the flickering computer screens, “Damage report!”

Another blinding flash followed by a sudden, violent rocking motion.

“Thrusters ahead–FULL!” Aaen commanded.

Smith felt his patience being tested, “WHERE are they shooting from?” He sharply asked Jones directly.

Jones was frantically scanning for an answer, executing multiple scans simultaneously on every frequency in the book—slamming her fists into her desk sharply, gritting her teeth and shouting, “DANG IT! THEY’RE NOT SHOWING UP ON SENSORS—!” Jones noted as the last sonar burst spread in every direction, there was a small green flicker at four o’clock, high, and it appeared to be ‘drifting’ towards three o’clock almost directly parallel to their heading, before fading away. She did another scan, doubling the sensor sensitivity—nothing. DANG IT! The red alert continued flooding the bridge.

Connors noted a slight reduction in the available power in the ship’s main power grid; the overhead lights were flickering slightly and erratically.

“Connors?” Smith asked directly.

“Reading a slight power drain from the main power grid. Attempting to localize the source!”

“Very well!” Smith acknowledged.

“What-the-heck?” Jorgensen suddenly shouted curiously glaring at his screen.

Smith noted Jones’ was frantically manipulating her computer’s controls. He braced against another sharp shudder as he asked, “Whaddya got?”

This time, Jones wide-eyed leaned close to her screen, traced her finger intently across her screen in multiple directions, paused, then grinned back, bracing against another sharp, violent shudder as Wilson executed another series of sharp evasive maneuvers.

Aaen looked behind him to find out why Smith was so quick around the corner, seeing the looks on Smith and Jones’ faces.

Jones pointed to her screen, “Sandberg, enter these targeting coordinates,”

“What did you find?” Aaen asked with a steely look. For the first time since he could remember, he felt sweat building on his forehead.

 The crew braced for another sharp shudder; this one nearly threw them across the bridge like they were horizontally bungee jumping. Wilson executed another series of sharp evasive maneuvers.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this, Captain! I’m reading a lot of subspace navigational hazards forming all over the place like mines!” there was anger and frustration in his voice. He was struggling to keep them out of the blast zone of the explosions but was too focused on his work to openly admit the fact. The rest of the bridge crew could hear his struggle in his voice.

Then there was relative calm. Aaen and Smith looked around—Odyssey’s instrumentation became quiet. The entire crew felt overwhelmingly puzzled, and curious about what had just happened.

“Did they stop shooting?” Aaen asked. Jones immediately looked at her screen, quickly examining it thoroughly, then turned around and turned her head.

“I’m not detecting any other incoming fire,”

“And you won’t. Not for the moment, at least,” Connors replied. “I finished adjusting the stealth field frequency. I had to take the new frequency into the Hilohertz range, and I had to make a few significant adjustments to the field’s geometry. Now that’s all finished, we should be in the dark to their sensors, and visually, at least for now,” the crew cheered, and there were a few breaths of relief. We could probably fly within a foot of their hull and they wouldn’t know it, she thought with a grin.

“Excellent work!” Aaen said to Connors. The notion of recommending a crew member or promotion crossed his mind for the third time today. He was still working on catching his breath.

“They might just be reloading!—” Sandberg interjected sharply.

“What did you find?” Smith asked Jones steely.

Jones pointed at her screen and grinned, “I think I figured out how to find them,” 

*****

Make sure to like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest! Keep reading!

Dark Echoes - Part 11

Wilson’s screen flashed. He read the newly-forming navigational data on his screen, and then sharply declared, “We’re six minutes out!”

Smith felt a seemingly sudden change in the ship’s artificial gravity. The rest of the crew didn’t seem to be affected, which meant either he was the only one affected, or everyone else was too busy to notice if there had been any such change. Hayes was intently monitoring the interstellar comm traffic; Wilson was sharply focused on keeping Odyssey’s heading consistent. There was something about this region that kept them from maintaining a relatively straight course, like riding dirt bikes in the central-mid-western sand dunes; Jones was trying to find a tactical and strategic answer to the two ships following them while monitoring what was ahead at Odyssey’s 12 o’clock. They seemed intent on at least keeping up with Odyssey. She noticed a few peculiar technical details about both ships and took some notes. She would soon pass the notes to Commander Smith for review before handing them off to Captain Winter; Sandberg was hovering over the ship’s remaining torpedo compliment and particle cannon weapon systems in anticipation that running may not be what saves them any more than the new stealth system. He suspected hiding would only buy them time, at best. But would that be of any consequence? He wondered; Connors was working on something on a printout sheet. Her attention kept alternating between her computer screen and the handout every few seconds. Smith was tempted to approach her and ask her was she was working on but opted instead to stay in his seat. He noted Odyssey was still on red alert based on the command to his computer control panel, and the red bridge highlights and matching tone shining on the bridge wall panels from the overhead lights.

“Very well!” Smith acknowledged directly and with an authoritative tone.

Jones turned and handed Smith the printout. The data on it was limited, he noted, containing a name, a serial number—and he couldn’t help but notice the word “Congress”; this sent a chill down his spine. He felt an overwhelming urge to hand off the printout to the Captain. Aaen scanned it, and then immediately rushed to the computer terminal on his right. He entered the data, and then information immediately flooded onto the screen.

“Three minutes!” Wilson declared, still trying to keep the ship steady.

Aaen’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he scanned the data on the screen in front of him while bracing against the wall to his right to keep himself steady. He read the data on the screen as fast as comprehension would enable, and then pulled up the command security palm scanner and put his hand on the fine, faint white palm outline. A dim rectangular bar passed over his palm from the tip of his hand to his wrist and then in reverse; each of his fingerprints was highlighted in a white rectangle. His next command was to initiate a mission records blackout.

“One minute!” Wilson declared over his right shoulder.

“Jeez, there’s a lotta com traffic right now!—” she paused. Smith noticed and gave her his full attention.

“What?”

Hayes turned her head as she looked at him. “All—all comm traffic just stopped,”

“You getting anything?”

Hayes turned her head in shock.

Smith looked at Aaen with a steely look. “Sir?” Aaen understood what he was asking about.

Jones turned around slowly, then Connors looked at them with some discretion. Jones’ screen flashed thrice. She turned around, read her screen, and then declared, “They’re gone!”

“Say again,” Smith commanded, looking over her shoulder.

“Both of them! Both of those ships just vanished!”

“Captain, what did you read on that screen?”

“He’s a politician. A very particularly. . .militarily-connected—politician.”

“Whaddo you mean, sir?” Smith asked quietly.

Aaen made eye contact with Smith sharply, “We’re in serious. .serious trouble, Commander,” Aaen replied, matching Smith’s tone, then walked fast around his chair to the front of the bridge, took a deep, discrete breath, then looked at Wilson, “Take us out of Translight. . . Sandberg! Maintain stealth mode. Remodulate the stealth field’s frequency. Standby-all-weapons,”

“Aye!”

“Wherever we’re at, I’m not detecting any stars, anywhere, within even long-distance sensor range!” Jones announced.

Smith approached his Captain then discretely, directly asked, “Cap, where’th’heck are we?”

Aaen looked at the black abyss filling the viewscreen. “Where we might have a chance.” There was a pause, and then Aaen commanded, “Battle stations,”

*****

Make sure to like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest! Keep reading!

Dark Echoes - Part 10

Jones downloaded the information in the removable computer memory drives into a handheld, then gave the handheld to Smith, who then returned to his seat and gave the handheld to Aaen. He held the device like a book and thumbed into the text on the transparent, one-way display. The first thing he wanted to know is who they were dealing with; the question of what they wanted, and how they had access to such incredibly impressive military hardware rolled around in the back of his mind like the intellectual equivalent of a kidney stone. There was no way the rest of the fleet would have been equipped like those three ships were. That bigger ship had to have been some kind of a dreadnaught, he guessed—but since when would The Union be building ships like that? And even if they were, he admitted the possibility to himself, accepting a number of possible hypothetically-plausible reasons why the military might build such ships, why would one of those ships be assigned to someone who doesn’t wear a naval officer’s uniform? This lingering thought begged the question of whether or not that suited guy was even military. Someone that age would easily be a senior commissioned officer, or maybe even admiralty, he told himself. But they would still be in uniform, regardless. But that guy wasn’t! Aaen didn’t recognize him. Smith didn’t either. Aaen looked at the handheld’s screen and began reading the text on the screen.

—Oh-jeez! Aen thought wide-eyed, continuing to read. Smith noticed the look on Aaen’s face, and noted his sitting upright in his chair, displaying a look of anxiety. He heard of this guy. He’s a Union politician serving in the 140th Congressional District. Aaen recalled their campaign promises they made about seven months ago before the general election. He pretty much basically promised ‘the moon, the sun, and the stars’ to everyone who chose to vote for him. The political party he publicly affiliated with was surrounded by its fair share of like-minded voters, and controversy. He makes one heck of a speech when he’s standing behind a podium and surrounded by hundreds of people in a basketball stadium who itch to ask him a politically-focused question to see if he was the candidate they would vote for. Aaen couldn’t recall where the guy was from, only that he made a different decision when the time came to vote some months ago because, in his opinion, he smelled a proverbial rat. He could see now that his trusting his gut on the matter was a smart decision, as was his final voting choice for that election—a realization that brought him a small measure of comfort in contrast to a situation that he consciously realized was still quite dangerous. This was almost completely overruled by his recalling the “X” shaped indentation in his ship’s dorsal hull, only a few feet over his head and slightly behind him, and the fact that Odyssey’s engines were being pushed well beyond their performance safety limits to stay as far ahead of their pursuers as they were in part because of the recent—and hopefully not permanent change—in Odyssey’s hull geometry. . . They were lucky the ship didn’t fly itself apart! If it wasn’t for Connors’ constant frantic work making the necessary Translight field geometry adjustments with such attentiveness, skill, persistence, and precision. . .

He faced forward, wiped the perspiration off his forehead as the back of his stomach burned as he continued reading.

“They’re starting to gain on us!” Jones wiped perspiration off of her face, and her hair was somewhat messy still from the commotion less than an hour ago compared to how it was bound in the back when Odyssey first launched for this mission. “At the rate they’re accelerating, they’ll be within weapons range again in a half an hour.”

With that, Smith’s curiosity overwhelmed him as he turned to Aaen. “Sir, where are we headed?” he asked with a cautious tone.

“Somewhere where the odds will be just about even,” He was thinking of the naval combat training area in spacial grid sector 5041—essentially the 'Area 51' of The Union's navy. He had spent some time there during basic training, where the special recruits are sent for more particularly specialized space combat and survival training. Much like the actual Area 51 on Earth, which was still in operation, both in terms of functional military purpose, and the fact that sector 5041 had supposedly been officially ‘abandoned’ after graduation. Most politicians didn’t know about it for that reason alone, though that reason was hardly exclusive. Few of those truly adept and exceptionally skilled recruits who were sent there believe the Navy’s official public statement on the matter; or that from The Union Intelligence Agency, especially. Training the most distinguished, brilliant Naval recruits on how to protect themselves and The Union in general from external and, rarely, internal threats, and how to survive in space was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, as it were, Aaen recalled. This place had always been one of The Union’s greatest secrets from the public for decades.

And for a good reason. 

*****

Make sure to like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest! Keep reading!

Dark Echoes - Part 9

“How long can we stay in this nebula?” Smith asked Jones directly. The bridge lights were at 60 percent of maximum illumination, flickering subtly from the nebula’s radiation effects.

She read the sensor data, then gasped, “About twenty minutes,” that was at best a guess, and the rest of the crew couldn’t help but notice a dark change in her tone. The ships in pursuit were a grizzly thousand kilometers away—essentially on the nebula’s ‘front doorstep’, and Odyssey was basically trapped in the living room. Connors was monitoring the radiation levels throughout the ship. So far, so good, but fate had a limited temper and didn’t like to be teased, or tempted. But the effects on the crew would be minimal compared to what was already going on in the technological heart of the ship. . .he felt like he had a small metal weight in his stomach, looking at these readings—

“Jones?” Smith asked intently.

“I ran a few low-frequency scans of those ships’ hulls. The metal molecular composition is the same as the rest of our fleet!” the rest of the crew immediately realized what she meant. They each had a gut feeling their next question was about to get answered. “I ran that guy’s face through the main computer, and the central intelligence secure database mainframe,” Aaen and Smith immediately gathered behind Jones and read what was on her screen, beginning with the name for the face.

“He’s a Congressman?” Smith asked. Sandberg turned around sharply with a shocked look. Connors looked at Jones screen with a glare.

“Affirmative. It gets better: the technical specifications for those ships that’re after us are very different than the rest of the fleet. I find it impossible to believe they were made in the same shipyards and no one happened to notice.”

Suddenly a strong vibration rolled through the deck. The entire crew could feel the hull veering forward with the nose dropping slightly and put their weight on the nearest flat surface for stability. Wilson immediately worked to correct the changes.

“What was that?” Jorgensen asked in a near-panic through the engineering entrance tunnel, bracing against the engineering compartment’s overhead panels.

Jones did a scan. The data came through almost instantly. She wiped the perspiration building on her forehead on her left forearm sleeve as she declared, “They’re firing some kind of advanced det charges!” the deck vibrated again, this time twice as sharply, “they don’t appear to have established a weapon lock. The type of radiation in this nebula is too dense for their targeting scanners to see us, though they’re probably firing along our sublight engines’ residual trail! The energy signature is distinctly different than the readings from the nebula!”

Another vibration, this time the hull shuddered sharply, if not mildly.

“They’re getting closer!” Jones declared, watching crisp digital circular explosion animations inching along the crew’s seven o’clock to their six o’clock, and getting closer to the screen with each shot. “They’re increasing the yield with each shot. It’s doubling with each shot, Captain!”

Smith looked at Aaen with a steely expression. Aaen recognized that expression, and then they exchanged a stiff nod, rushing back to their seats.

Another vibration, and a shudder. This one was almost five times as sharp and rocked Odyssey cleanly off its ‘X’ axis. The crew thought they had been thrown forward, and braced sharply for stability. The lights dimmed significantly. The bridge almost resembled a dark cave.

“Where are we headed, sir?” Smith asked Aaen. Aaen felt the need to think amid another flurry of vibrations and deck shuddering. Then he looked at Wilson, who was watching over his shoulder anticipating new navigational orders.

“Come about. .heading one-four-three, mark seven-two,” Wilson nodded, looking slightly confused about why his Captain chose that heading but entered the heading into the navigational array. Odyssey adjusted to the new heading smoothly.

Another vibration followed by a sharper shudder. Wilson was able to quickly make the necessary thruster adjustments. The lights flickered abruptly for several seconds and then rapidly faded out.

“THAT LAST SHOT NEARLY DETONATED A RADIATION POCKET! IF THEY HIT ONE OF THE POCKETS CLOSEST TO US, THE NEBULA WILL GO UP, AND TAKE US WITH IT!”

An alarm sounded. Connors glared at her screen and then looked up sharply at the front of the bridge, “RADIATION LEVELS ARE CLIMING FAST! THEY’LL REACH LETHAL LEVELS IN FIFTEEN SECONDS!”

Then they’re not trying to destroy us. They’re trying to take us alive, Smith reasoned, but chose to keep to himself, for now.

“They’re jamming communications! I can’t contact the rest of the fleet to request assistance!” Hayes declared, glaring at the error message on her screen.

“Translight standing by—sir!” Wilson declared directly.

“Execute!” Aaen sat upright and couldn’t help but wonder what that guy in the suit wanted with the Valiant.

*****

Make sure to like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page for the latest! Keep reading!