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.

*****

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