The Depths - Part 1

    Aaen laughed with joy with the rest of the family sitting around the seven-foot-tall artificial green Christmas tree adorned with colorful shining ornaments and a glass light-up star on the top. The carpet was covered in shredded colorful wrapping paper, the room was filled with family members hugging each other in gratitude for their exchanges of simple tokens of generosity and gratitude for a long and difficult year. He reminisced about the developments of the year, then awoke.

    He got up, got ready for the day, and then proceeded to the bridge for his command watch. 

Undisclosed Location

    The four-sided diamond icon representing the tracking target inched across the 40-inch viewscreen. A square reticule tracked it along its curved projected flight path. In the darkness, he subtly sneered and gasped at the blinking multi-colored glares against his face. He told himself things seemed to be going to plan so far. He gestured at the screen and shifted his three-fingered hand, changing the track from 2D to 3D—good. He liked what the tracking data was telling him so far. The target was traveling at translight factor eight, he glared, taking a sip from his hot beverage and then rested the container back in his chair’s cup holder. The hot fluid merely felt faintly warm against the scarring on the inside of his throat. He angrily scratched his chair’s leather armrests—the grinding of fingernails against the material sent chills through the room.

    “At their present speed, the Odyssey is expected to arrive in two weeks, Admiral,” a 27-year-old male voice said from five feet over his commanding officer’s right shoulder.

    Two weeks. . . “Inform our assets,” he commanded calmly.

    The 27-year-old froze in place. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

    “The rest of the Union fleet doesn’t seem to be aware of—“

    “Never question the enemy’s situational awareness. Always assume they know about you and what you’re doing that much more than you do at all times. You’ll live longer,” he rubbed the base of his throat, recalling the reason for the scarring and varying numbness.

    “Do you mean to destroy them, sir?”

    The Admiral grinned. “How many times have they experienced attempts at their destruction—and how many times have we seen each attempt fail?”

    There was a pause.

    “ANSWER!” The Admiral snapped.

    The 27-year-old shuddered and tried to take a breath. “Every time, sir,”

    “Correct,” The Admiral sneered. “That crew has proven to be resourceful, and they’ve only been in space for about a year or so. Most impressive. We must be careful as we proceed. The Constitution still stands. They are still a democracy. The Union is still being perfected.” He gasped, “We will strike at the correct time, but more still remains to be done before we can take that step.”

    A subtle alarm sounded from over the Admiral’s shoulder.

    “Sir, our assets have acknowledged your signal.”

    The response was a blunt, “Good.”

 

USSC Odyssey

    His bridge had that 'new car'-like smell. 

    "Captain on the bridge!" Smith declared as he surrendered the center seat to his captain. 

    “You know that feeling when you’re being watched?” Smith asked Aaen. 

    “Yeah,” Aaen replied, “There are nine people on this ship with only two decks.” He joked. The crew chuckled. Despite the limited space on the ship, every crew member had their own living quarters. 

    “No. I mean—like someone’s watching you from far out. Like you’re being stalked or something.”

    Aaen looked over his shoulder, “Jones, you have anything interesting or unusual on sensors?”

    She scanned every direction twice, then turned her head, “Negative. Except for a few natural phenomena, sensors are clear.”

    Smith’s gut felt like it was knotting up. He turned his head, “Helm, how far are we from the destination?”

    Wilson checked the latest navigational data. “Two weeks if we maintain this speed,”

    “How far out are we?” Smith asked. 

    “There are no recorded stars, planets, or other celestial phenomena within sensor range. We're effectively in the interstellar 'boondocks'.”

    “Hayes, any comm traffic we need to know about?” Smith asked.

    She turned her head. “Nope. I’m not getting anything, as a matter of fact. It was buzzing with chatter a few minutes ago. Nothing noteworthy. Nothing at all now.”

    Aaen and Smith looked puzzled.

    “Inbound jamming?” Aaen asked.

    Hayes turned her head. “Negative. At least not as far as all this equipment’s indicating. Just. .nothing.” She sounded puzzled.

    What-the-heck? Aaen asked himself silently. Something’s not right. “Get a message to Union Space Fleet Command: tell them where we’re at and see if we can get any ships to come back us up.” He felt an uneasy knot forming around his gut about what was ahead.

    Hayes nodded and attempted to carry out the order. Let’s hope this works.

    The stars were all but completely gone from the viewscreen, shrouded in the increasingly chaotic translight corridor.

 

Union Intelligence Agency

    Odyssey’s message appeared on the monitor. The comms officer on duty printed the message and then ran it to the Director’s office.

    The Director put on his reading glasses as he accepted the message, nodding a ‘thank you’.

    The Director sipped his hot cocoa, reading the message in seconds. The message included a set of coordinates in deep space. He dropped his glass on his desk without thinking. The glass shattered to pieces on impact.

    The Director activated a secure intranet email. The template was populated on his Plexiglas computer monitor. He addressed a message to the Fleet Admiral’s office at Union Space Fleet Command. The Director further encoded the message on Epsilon-Alpha frequency.

“-NEW MESSAGE-

 

    Received a message from USSC Odyssey that is dated today. Coordinates indicate the urgency of attention to the message. High military interest in this subject. Discussion needed with POTU and Joint Chiefs. Request for meeting with POTU and Joint Chief’s submitted to needed party at WH. Our friends and allies need to be alerted to this also. Keep all subsequent chatter on official secure channels ONLY. Assets will be alerted. Further to follow. Out.

 

-Director, UIA

 

-END MESSAGE-

 

Union Space Fleet Command

    The UIA message appeared virtually instantly.

    An alert of the message’s receipt appeared on Fleet Admiral West’s military cell phone, along with a pop-up meeting calendar invite at the White House on his computer monitor. The day had gone smoothly so far. The message’s encoding alone spoke volumes about the sensitivity of its contents. Shoot, he silently exclaimed. The encoding meant this message is only going to be visible on his military computer. The only way to unlock the computer and then decode the message would be by his fingerprint, retinal scan, and voiceprint, along with the room being securely locked down. He asked himself what could possibly be going on. His mind ran with all kinds of tactical and strategic possibilities—

    He activated the text message app on his phone and addressed this message to a redacted encrypted phone number.

    “I’ll be there. All space forces will be standing by before EoW.”

    He updated his phone’s calendar and then proceeded to lunch.

 

USSC Odyssey

    A sensor alert sounded.

    “WOAH!” Jones exclaimed, jumping upright in her seat.

    “What is it?” Smith asked.

    “For an instant, a metallic object appeared on our starboard bow about two-hundred-fifty-thousand kilometers out.” She pointed. “It was there, and then it vanished.”

    Aaen looked at Jones. “‘Vanished’?”

    “Aye,” Jones nodded.

    “Any idea what it was?” Smith asked.

    “It was a ‘blink-and-you-miss-it’ reading. I was only able to acquire minimal data. What I have indicates it may have been a small asteroid, a sensor echo, or...”

    “Or?” Smith asked directly.

    “Or we might not be the only ones out here.” Jones tone indicated anxiety and fear.

    “I recommend activating the matrix,” referring to the Defensive Matrix, “and that we raise shields and get all weapons on standby,” Sandburg said.

    “I agree!” Hayes’ chimed.

    Aaen considered all inputs—an alleged sensor contact, which could be another ship, then again it might not be. . . An asteroid suddenly appearing and disappearing from sensors is darned convenient. Way too convenient, he decided. Who else would be out here? He asked himself. Why would anyone else be so far out here? It’s possible but awfully unlikely. But still... The start-of-watch ships' status report confirmed all systems are functioning optimally. He listened to his gut, and then looked at Smith with a steely look. 

    “Yellow alert. Activate the matrix, bring the ship to combat-readiness. Make sure to maintain stealth mode,”

    “Yes, sir,” Smith replied in the same steely tone and carried out his orders.

    Odyssey might not technically be a combat vessel, but she was still had formidable teeth—and her captain was going to be prepared to use them if the situation demanded that of him. Still, as always, Aaen hoped he wouldn’t have to.

    The bridge turned a cautious yellow, a change in the alert that lead the other subtle mechanical rumblings rolling through the bridge.

    The lights darkened.

    Aaens desire to get to where they were headed as quickly as possible burned in his mind along with his building curiosity about that sensor contact. He clamped his jaws tightly, shifting his lower jaw back and forth with and then commanded, “Wilson, increase to maximum translight,” This should be an exciting new year indeed. 

  *****

Steve H. of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

Make sure to check out our official website, like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page and @StormteamS, and @JordanFoutin for the latest! 

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Dark Echoes - Part 30

    “Engines to full stop.” Wilson looked up at the viewscreen. “We’re directly beneath the target—about ten meters below it.” We’re freakin’ close to losing some paint . . . If we—OR they—drift too far too fast. . . Holy crap. Wilson gasped.

    Sandberg loaded the torpedo onto the loading slider. Three seconds and a few straight-forward commands later, the torpedo showed as “ARMED”. The warhead was set to ‘HIGH-YIELD’;  the homing sensor was seeking and the detonator was standing by to—he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about how big that bang was going to be, to say nothing about the subsequent chain reaction that would. . .be visible for light years and could potentially change the orbit of any planets nearby. A ton of variables went into something like that. He didn’t want to think about them. . . He would do what he had to do. . .but—

    “Jones, where we at?” Aaen asked loudly and directly.

    She eyed the new sensor data for a moment. It was easy to mentally metabolize. She formed an answer near-instantaneously. She was more worried about that thing at 11 o’clock on the port bow, about 1000 yards away. She selected the target and directed a scan at it.

    It disappeared.

    What the heck? Jones asked in silence with a frustrated wince. Sandburg noticed and glanced at Jones’ computer. Those ships were still approaching. Too close for comfort. There must have been at least two carriers mixed in with the smaller cruisers and whatever ships or armaments they might be carrying.

    —Shoot.

    “So far—okay,” she breathed, “Those other ships are still approaching our position. No indication of a collision course yet.”

    Smith looked at Jones’ computer—shoot.

    “Torpedo is armed and standing by,” Sandberg declared confidently to Smith.

    Smith turned to Connors, “Get a phase lock on the warhead. Standby to send it over.” He turned for his chair.

    Connors nodded and worked to carry out the order. In what seemed like seconds.

    “The other ships will be right on top of us in two minutes!” Jones declared aloud.

    The same exclaiming thought rolled with an uneasy burning sensation across every crew member’s synapses. Some of the crew forgot to blink for a full 30 seconds. Four crewmembers wiped their sweat off their foreheads while the others anxiously breathed deeply and more rapidly.

    C’mon! C’mon! Aaen and Smith thought silently. “Put those ships on the viewscreen,” Aaen commanded, sounding calmer. Jones did so, still watching the contact indicators inch diagonally closer along her screen.

    “Sir, I recommend launching a class-one probe with a decoy node. If those ships are coming for us, they might go after the probe inst—” A sensor alert sounded. Jones screen flashed thrice. “Holy-cow! They’re changing course: they’re flying circles around us! Still no indication they’ve detected us!”

    “Why aren’t they scanning?” Smith asked quietly.

    “Why haven’t they opened fire?” Aaen followed, darkly.

    “It might be a patrol,” Jones guessed. But so focused? It’s probably just a precaution?

    “Captain, the torpedo is armed and ready for deployment,” Smith told his Captain.

    “Execute,”

    Connors blinked at her screen as she watched the energizers engage. In seconds, the torpedo’s icon fragmented into a fine blurry mist until the screen showed “PHASE COMPLETE”; the sound flowed like a wave through the bridge.

    Smith turned to the back of the bridge. “Connors?”

    Connors nodded, “It’s done.”

    Another sensor alert, “THEY DETECTED THE PHASE!” The contacts turned into an angry swarm as an alarm filled the bridge. “MULTIPLE TARGETS CLOSING!”

    “GET US OUTTA HERE, Commander!” Aaen commanded.

    “WITH PLEASURE!” He was already working the controls.

    “Signal Aurora! Designate any target with a weapon lock on us and tell them to engage!” Smith commanded. There would be no giving the enemy a clear target.

    “AYE!”

    The crew could feel the hull’s acceleration and turning to starboard, and then abruptly to port. Jones guessed Wilson was pulling a long “U” turn. Shoot!

    “THEY’RE TRYING TO FIND US! They’re trying to get a weapon lock but their targeting sensors can’t get acquisition!”

    “Let’s not give them a target. Wilson, maximum sublight! Evasive maneuvers! Get us back to Aurora!”

    “Aye!”

    “Designating targets!—Sending data to Hayes!” Jones declared.  

    A trio of beeping sounds later, “Got ‘em! Relaying to Aurora!”

    “HOSTILES ARE TIGHT ON OUR STERN!” Jones declared in a panic. A few hundred inbounds were gaining like fire flowing along a fuel line.

    “AURORA CONFIRMS: TARGETS DESIGNATED!” Hayes shouted over the layers of alarms. 

    “TARGETS ACQUIRED!” Additional data populated. “. .HOLY HEAVEN!” She shouted wide-eyed, “WE’VE GOT COVERING FIRE INBOUND!” The viewscreen showed a building light in the forward distance drowning out the stars, instantly turning into countless particle and projectiles shooting past within inches of the hull. The hull shuddered sharply like an abrupt 10-magnitude quake as Jones followed the fire aft.

    “Impact in two—one—!”

    A blinding light filled the viewscreen and flooded the bridge, virtually blinding the crew. The crew braced against the shuddering with one arm and shielded their eyes with the other.

    “REPORT!” Smith demanded at the top of his lungs.

    Jones strained to read the flood of sensor data. “CONFIRMING IMPACT! THERE’S FIFTEEN MILLION METRIC TONS OF DEBRIS SCATTERING LIKE SHRAPNEL! HEAVEN HELP US!—THERE’S A LEVEL-FIFTEEN SHOCKWAVE INBOUND! IMPACT—” She struggled to remain steady amid the building shuddering. “IMPACT. .IN THIRTY SECONDS!” The countdown displayed on her computer monitor, along with several jagged lines highlighting the hazards increasing in number by the second. Jones ran computations on her computer to figure out how far they needed to go in contrast to the blast wave to see if they could out-run it. Seconds later, she sharply faced Smith, “WE NEED TO INCREASE OUR VELOCITY TO AT LAST TRANSLIGHT-FACTOR SEVEN IF WE’RE TO OUT-RUN IT!”

    Another alarm sounded.

    “HULL TEMPERATURE INCREASING! HULL TEMPERATURE WILL REACH CRITICAL IN TEN SECONDS! REACTOR STRESS INCREASING! IMPLOSION IMMINENT! USE OF TRANSLIGHT DRIVE COULD CAUSE A CORE BREACH, CAPTAIN!”

    “SIR?” Smith asked Aaen in shock.

    “DO IT!”

    Wilson turned in his seat. “ENGAGING TRANSLIGHT DRIVE!” The command was executed. The velocity gauge climbed, slowed, then gradually declined to “FULL STOP”. “NEGATIVE ON TRANSLIGHT DRIVE!” He examined the navigational data on his screen. “TRANSLIGHT DRIVE CAN’T FORM A STABLE INTERSPATIAL FIELD!”

    “OPS! DIVERT ALL POWER FROM TRANSLIGHT TO THE SUBLIGHT ENGINES!”

    “THAT MUCH POWER COULD—”

    “FIFTEEN SECONDS TO IMPACT!” Jones declared.

    “DO IT! DO IT NOW!” Smith commanded.

    “Aye, sir!” She carried out the command promptly.

    “WE’RE BARELY STAYING AHEAD OF IT!” Jones declared. “IT’S GAINING ON US! WILSON!”

    The sublight engines power levels were showing as being 250 percent of maximum. . .He took a deep breath and then roared, “ENGAGING SUBLIGHT DESTRUCTIVE!”

    The ship’s velocity increased exponentially per second. They were approaching light speed. “JONES?”

    She pushed herself upright. The dot in the center was inching away from the inflating wall of fire behind it. “WE’RE GETTING AHEAD OF IT! THE SHOCK WAVE IS STILL ACCELERATING!”

    “TIME TO INTERCEPT AURORA?” Smith asked.

    “TEN SECONDS!”

    The shuddering began to steady. Another sensor alert sounded amid the alarming chaos.

    “WE’RE CLEAR OF THE BLAST WAVE!” The shuddering finally calmed. “The blast wave is dissipating! It destroyed most of the debris!”

    “Jones. Confirm ‘all-clear’.”

    “Confirming the same!”

    “All right,” Aaen pointed to Smith. “Stand down from red alert. Sandberg, secure from silent running; power down the stealth system. Connors! Normalize all power levels. Hayes! Open a channel to the Aurora.” The alarms promptly ended.

    “They’ve already signaled us, sir: they’ve received new orders. They’re departing the system. . . A second message just came in—we’ve been ordered to report to Starbase 251.”

    Aaen took his seat.

    Jones admired how effectively Aurora faded off the sensor grid.

    “Why would they send us all there?” Aaen asked Smith.

    “Let’s find out.”

    *****

Steve H. of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

Make sure to check out our official website, like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page and @StormteamS, and @JordanFoutin for the latest! 

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Dark Echoes - Part 29

    “RED ALERT!” Aaen commanded through the bridge. The lights and computer screens changed colors instantly. The viewscreen densely abuzz with contacts, so much that the stars near and far were no longer visible. The sunlight from the solar system generated light on the numerous hulls of the hostile ships, small and enormous! Wilson pulled a variety of maneuvers involving sharp, abrupt twists, turns, and all manner of vertical and diagonal changes in pitch and yaw—Odyssey was darn-nearly a microbe by comparison to what was going on ahead and around them! One could cut the tension and the anxiety on the bridge with a knife! Aaen kept reminding himself not to engage the enemy if engagement could be avoided. No promises. Smith silently agreed, maintaining readiness to adjust any of the controls on his console if the need should suddenly arise. Heck, everyone’s like that, Aaen told himself, trusting a gut feeling while struggling to brace for stability as he watched the viewscreen, trying to maintain his steely sitting posture with incessant sensor alerts and communication alerts flooding the bridge. The big question at the moment was how to get through their detection grid. . .

    “Any ideas?” Aaen asked his first officer.

    Smith sat embarrassed with a silent and unintentional blank list of hypothetical options. The obstacle looked simpler back before Odyssey got underway. The closer they got, the more complex the thing looked as they drew near at full sublight. What looked like a tootsie-roll-sized wall of perceptibility now looked like an enormous spherical mass he silently doubted they were going to be able to penetrate. With that, he turned his head at his Captain. This wasn’t necessarily surprising to Aaen, but he was a little disappointed at the fact since he was hoping for a clever suggestion. He needed his first officer to do some of the strategic thinking. Smith sensed as much and then endeavored to piece together what he could, “That looks like we’re going to have to do more than adjust the defensive matrix shielding to get through...” he eyed the fluctuating obstacle again, “I suggest we put everything we’ve got into the stealth system but keep the weapons on standby. We may only be able to get through on thrusters, depending on the sensor sensitivity of those ships, and that installation.”

    Aaen nodded agreement.

    Hayes’ computer beeped and flashed thrice.

    “Report,” Aaen commanded.

    “We got a message from Aurora...” she read the message, “The Shadows have deployed. ETA for detection grid shutdown is two minutes,”

    “Very well. Helm, maintain the present course.”

    “Mr. Sandburg, standby all weapons. Prepare to activate the stealth system,”

    Each officer acknowledged their orders.

    Jones’ counted more than fifteen thousand ships varying from scout ships to battleships of whatever design and configuration, and more were entering sensor range. She decided she didn’t like these odds, but said nothing, alternating her focus from her computer and the viewscreen. Holy-cow!

    The torpedoes and energy weapons charged quickly, as usual, Sandburg grinned with a hope that he wouldn’t have to use them but felt more comfortable with rounds—preferably high-yield rounds—in the queue. Better safe than sorry in case he didn’t get his wish.

    A sensor alert sounded. “The detection matrix is down!” Another sensor alert followed within a second, “They’ve got ships on their way in! Their weapons are charged—they’re scanning the area aggressively! I STRONGLY advise using the stealth system! FAST!”

    “Do it! Turn it on!” Smith commanded.

    In three seconds, the lights dimmed.

    Oh, shoot! Jones thought. A dozen or more large and heavily-armed ships were already nearly on top of them!

    The sublight engine heat gauges were filling with red, rapidly. Wilson guessed they probably had another five minutes before he might have to power down the engines. He used the coolant in small bursts to try to slow down the heat buildup, but even with that, they were looking at a question of minutes—and then there was the fact that they were getting low on coolant . . . SHOOT—

    Another wave of collision alerts roared through the bridge, “HELM!” Smith and Aaen snapped. Another series of sharp maneuvers sent Odyssey skimming barrel-rolling over the hull of five ENORMOUS spacecraft carriers and their smaller and mean-looking cruiser escorts, which looked like insects by comparison.

    Aaen’s hands slipped off of the forward console as he felt gravity pulling his brain to the back of his skull. Nearly every crew member aft of his chair was doing much the same thing.

    Several seconds later, the tactical reticules and indicators on the view screen centered and seemed to relax.

    “Report,” Aaen commanded. Jones knew the command was directed at her.

    Jones evaluated the data coming in . . . “Destination ahead.”

    A communications alert filled the bridge. Aaen looked forward.

    “Aurora signals readiness to engage hostiles. They are standing-by to engage any targets we designate,” She was understandably afraid and thought, sooner the better.

    “Okay. Slow to one-quarter. . . Let’s get this done and get the heck outta here.” Aaen gasped, sensing unanimous agreement from the rest of the bridge as he sat upright in his seat. “Approach the target,” Aaen commanded, gripping his armrests anxiously. “Bring us alongside it on the ‘y’ axis. Let’s blow that thing.”

    Another sensor alert sounded. Aaen’s gut sank. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck straighten painfully.

    “Captain! About one-third of those ships we just passed has changed course . . . they’re heading in this direction.”

    “Have we been detected?” Smith asked sharply.

    “I seriously doubt that!” Connors disputed. “We have way too much power in the stealth system for us to be visible by sensors! They couldn’t have detected us!”

    Then why the heck are they heading this way? “Are they matching our course?” Aaen asked directly, his breathing became sharper.

    “. .Negative.”

    “Are there any other ships out there you hadn’t detected yet?” Smith asked.

    “No,” Jones replied sharply.

    “Keep an eye on them, if you see them on an intercept course for us, tell me.”

    Jones replied with an authoritative nod. As Aaen and Smith returned to the front of the bridge, Jones ran two high-intensity external scans. . . The results came back after two minutes. Multiple distortions were forming along the opposing outer perimeter. What the heck is causing that?

    A new contact appeared at 2 o'clock distant—then another . . . then three more contacts, all traveling in formation and transmitting a Union-encoded transponder signal. She asked herself if they were backup.

    The sensor alarm sounded. New sensor data flowed in. She interpreted the data and then reported, “We’ve got more incoming!” Three more contacts appeared, traveling in formation and approaching the center of the screen at high-sublight. What-the—? Jones wondered, eyeing the new sensor data and trying to ID the contacts. Their hulls were darn-nearly geometrically perfect.

    “Any ID’s on the incomings, Jones?” Smith asked.

    “Affirmative! I’m detecting the USSC Andromeda, Storm, Hunt, Typhon, and the Helios! Their coming in weapons-hot!” 

            *****

Steve H. of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

Make sure to check out our official website, like and follow the official StormTeam Simulations Facebook page and @StormteamS, and @JordanFoutin for the latest! 

Make sure to buy your copy of STORMTEAM, available on Amazon.com in Kindle eBook, softcover, and audiobook! Also available at these fine retailers:

Smashwords.com (Remember to like and share!)

Apple iBooks

Barnesandnoble.com 

Scribd.com 

Kobo.com

Blio.com 

Thank you, and happy reading! 

Dark Echoes - Part 28

“Sir, Shadows have successfully inserted.” The TAO declared.

“Switch to bodycam. On-screen,”

A team of distorted humanoid figures marching in a tactical stance holding automatic suppressed particle rifles in formation down a security-packed corridor filled the viewscreen. Their personal stealth systems built into their combat gear worked without a flaw. They blended in like air, distinguishable only to each other and Aurora by a fine, grainy full-body tactical blanket outline. An encrypted IR beam generated by an attachment on their rifle barrels showed the bridge where they were aiming. The team’s leader told the rest of the team what to do using hand signals. They formed a double-file line in the corridor, then a hand gesture told them to advance. Their objective was only about twenty meters away.

Two armed and uniformed soldiers turned the corner with their automatic rifles at low-ready. The order to fire was given. The two leading Shadows on the left snapped, aimed high and fired within an instant. Their targets dropped straight backward in a disorganized wad.

“Odyssey is approaching the border detection grid!” The Sensors officer declared.

“Relay to the Shadow team,”

“Aye!” The order was carried out in seconds.

A sharp right turn, two more shots dropped two more targets in a seeming instant. A left turn, then an abrupt right. There.

The next order was to breach and clear. One of the Shadows impressed a string-like device around the edge of the door’s frame. The Execute gesture caused the door frame to glow in their headgear. They could pass through it like it wasn’t there. Another gesture caused the team to flood into the room through the door like a stiff breeze, checking the corners high and low. There were six tangos in the room, all heavily armed and wearing some sort of sophisticated ballistic body armor. No matter. Six precise shots above the eyebrows dropped each tango crumbling backward into a wall.

The next gesture was an order to rig the nuclear power reactor and the associated computer equipment with high-explosives. This process was more delicate, but never any less prompt.

The team’s leader signaled to phase back to Aurora. They were back in seconds.

“Execute.” The team’s leader commanded.

A command to the Shadow’s forearm control panel caused it to beep thrice, and then the word “DETONATION” flashed on the display.

 

USSC Odyssey

A corner of the viewscreen lit up with the image of a large fireball billowing into space.

“That’s our cue!” Smith declared.

“The detection grid is down!” Jones’ declared.

“All-ahead-full, Helmsman!” Aaen commanded authoritatively.

Wilson carried out the order with a swell of enthusiasm. They were flying right into one-big-freakin’-hornet’s nest; it was getting denser by the second.

The reverberating electrical hum swept through the hull. “Another round of high-intensity sensor sweeps! They’re scanning in waves, most likely to compensate for the detection grid’s going down. Holy-CRAP! There are about three hundred ships converging on our position!”

Smith rushed to Jones’ station and glared at the readings pouring in. “Have they detected us?” He asked sharply.

“It doesn’t look like it—wait!” Her finger traced a jagged navigational line on her computer’s screen. “They’re adjusting course...! They’re scanning for a weapons target!”

“Captain! The stealth system!” Smith advised sharply.

Aaen glared at the viewscreen, commanding, “EXECUTE! Give it everything we’ve got, Connors!”

The bridge dimmed even more darkly this time.

Jones’ eyed the installation’s order marker precisely. “Crossing the installation’s outer boundary in five...four...three...two...one!” It was done; and the largest cluster of ships she had ever seen was virtually about to cast a huge shadow on their hull!”

“They’re right on top of us! One thousand kilometers and closing!” The reverberating electrical humming sounds came back. “They’re all around us! Looks like they’re looking at the detonation point! Doesn’t look like they’ve found us yet!” Yet? She questioned that much.

“Hold your course, Mr. Wilson!” Aaen commanded. Those three-hundred-plus ships were EVERYWHERE in the viewscreen!

Jones noted a few dozen of the ships had crossed their flight path. “COLLISION ALERT!”

Aaen abruptly commanded, “Evasive maneuvers!”

Jones looked at her computer with shock and awe.

The way back had been cut off.

The way ahead was full of hostiles, and judging by new readings filing in: the installation had just gone to high alert. There were high-sensitivity automated defense systems activating all-over-the-place! Oh, SHOOT!

We’re surrounded, she thought dreadfully, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her sleeve amid the building psychological pressure of the moment, glaring at the viewscreen in horror. The hostiles high-powered engines rattled the hull violently as the hostiles spun around the viewscreen in a shaking blur as Wilson struggled to keep from colliding with the hostiles, watching the distance-to-contact plummet toward “0” as he sharply maneuvered Odyssey into a tight, sharp barrel roll in between a dozen hostiles flying towards them. The navigational instrumentation said the hull had completed a 180-degree rotation to port. Odyssey’s sublight engines’ muffled rolling thunderous roars ripped through the bridge as Odyssey came within three inches of twelve ships while on a twisted, arched flight path. An almost deafening flood of alerts and alarms rang through the bridge.

“ALL HANDS: BRACE FOR IMPACT!” Smith shouted. The crew screamed and shouted in horror.

 “WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”  Jones declared at the top of her lungs as the rest of the installation became visible.

Seconds later, Odyssey emerged. Wilson leveled the ship out manually as the rest of the crew caught their breath.

 “Report,” Aaen commanded.

Jones reviewed the latest sensor data, then replied, “Destination in one billion kilometers on our starboard bow. ETA: five minutes if we maintain present speed,”

“Standby to execute,” Smith commanded.

“Tactical, maintain standby on all weapons,”

“Aye, sir,” 

*****

Steve H. of Portland, OR told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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