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,”

*****

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