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. 

*****

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