The Depths - Part 13

    “EVERYBODY HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!” the pilot abruptly commanded over the intercom, the cockpit dashboard instrumentation glowed a brilliant neon red with a flurry of navigational data telling the pilot they were about to hit something head-on. The pilot snapped—in a blink, he diverted auxiliary power to the forward shield matrix and slammed the throttle to its highest setting because to try to do a hard about maneuver now puts everyone on board at risk of serious injury. Less than a second later, everyone on board felt thrown toward the bow, shuddering as the hull recoiled around them. 

    Thank goodness for seating restraints and the inertia dampeners. 

    “All right, that should be the worst of this trip," the co-pilot declared. The cockpit dashboard's instrumentation provided the pilots with technical details about how the shield matrix was impacted, the condition of the hull, and their new external environment. “Good-night,” the co-pilot exclaimed. 

    “What is it?” The special operations team leader asked from around the corner, looking through the cockpit's viewers. He soon realized the answer to his question. He maintained a steely expression. More data poured in on the dashboard instrumentation. He read the data and analyzed it fluently. Yeah, where they were headed made Fort Knox seem like an antique tourist attraction administrators would charge admission for a guided tour through. Theoretically, this was nothing this spec ops team couldn't handle. 

    “That sucker's gotta weigh almost a half-billion-metric tons, sir. And it's got enough guns and broomsticks to handle that fleet behind us.” More data poured in. The numerous technical details populating on the instrumentation would give a reason for the team leader to order a mission abort. He considered that option, weighing in the danger against executing the mission. If he aborts the mission, this detachment can't carry out its orders, and their target will get away and continue to threaten The Union's citizens. That could not be tolerated. Thermal scans suggested almost two hundred armed hostiles, awake and alert, and wearing military-grade ballistic armor. What was more curious? Additional active scan data showed what appeared to be tall, bulky machines being offloaded from an adjacent compartment within the central construct. . . The detail of the scans was mild to moderately distorted—the machines appeared to be pilotable bipeds, and when the transport's computer cleared the images of the distortions, the bulky shapes were actually heavy weapons—

    MECHs! 

    “That's an enormous amount of heat. You still wanna go in, sir?” The detachment's leader felt the weight and gravity of the decision to continue the mission. 

    The transport's computer played an alert. The pilots and the detachment's team leader realized the sum of the new data. “We have a way in.” 

    He made his decision. “Take us in,”

    In what seemed like less than a minute, and some very clever maneuvering, the pilot managed to land the shuttle. There was ample gravity where they landed, but dark. The co-pilot relayed the fact and gave the detachment a few seconds to activate the necessary gear, and then opened the aft hatch; the rapid off-loading ramp extended automatically. 

    The detachment offloaded in a tactical march. 

 *****

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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The Depths - Part 12

     The admiral checked his display. The contact sent an encrypted written message. The admiral decoded it quickly using a specific algorithm that he created specifically for this purpose. The contact confirmed that they will be arriving at the designated rendevous point in less than twenty minutes. He and his contact were arriving on schedule. His chest felt heavy with anxiety at the thought of the transaction going awry. Any number of things could cause the transaction to go awry. He saw only a handful of possibilities as being a physical likelihood, but not statistically probable. This, along with the assumed 'reliability' from past dealings was his only consolation. Having a fleet of Union ships lingering outside the perimeter didn't help matters, but the fact didn't compromise his plans, either. 

    The meeting site was well-fortified. The admiral made sure of that long ago. All security elements were in position in and around the meeting site. So far everything was otherwise going to plan. Still, he had a gut feeling that made him weary, and unsure. He glanced at the dashboard: the transport's velocity is translight factor nine-point-nine-nine-eight. Impressive for such a small craft. The energy signature of the swirling bright neon green translight corridor was effectively masked. They would be arriving within 12 minutes. Plenty of time in advance to ensure everything was as he needed it to be. Still, his gut feeling lingered. If anything, it was getting worse. He put a fresh power cell in his sidearm, switched the safety off, increased the power output to maximum, and then holstered it. 

  *****

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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The Depths - Part 11

     In five minutes, the special operations detachment loaded onto the first of eight shuttles. This shuttle was specially fitted with highly specialized gear usable only by special operators, including extra armor and stealth components—none of which are part of the shuttle's original design. Every operator wore light tactical gear and carried various assault rifles to heavier small arms weapons and demolitions gear. The operators even had their own pilot. 

    The pilot confirmed the shuttle was ready for launch and then requested clearance from the bridge to take off. 

    “Permission granted. Good luck.” came the reply. 

    With that, Voyager's assigned crew watched on the bridge tactical viewer and the live view screen as the dot representing the shuttle moved away from the shuttle bay, changing course, and soaring rapidly to its destination. The special operators watched their data feeds, gathered readings, and performed whatever calculations while the bridge crew watched developments unfold like enabled spectators. 

    “Shuttle has disappeared from sensors,” announced the right-wing sensor officer. “ETA to estimated perimeter: ten seconds," And in exactly that time, the tiny bright dot vanished from view. 

    There were numerous questions on their minds. . .

  *****

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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The Depths - Part 10

    The inter-ship communications station was buzzing with inbound chatter and written messages. The bridge computers and viewscreen data changed to completely new user interfaces. The only strictly calm personnel on the bridge were the special operators. 

    The deputy snapped, looking left toward the top of the spiral staircase. Speaking just loud enough for the chief to hear, he asked, “What was that?” 

    The Chief sharply asked, “What was what?”

    “I thought I saw something over there,”

    The Chief looked in the same direction as the deputy, “What?”

    “Like a. . . nearly transparent humanoid shape. Seemed like it was looking right back at me. No sound. It just looked like it was standing there–observing us,”

    “With all of these special forces guys up here, if there was anyone up here who shouldn't be, they'd be asking for it by doing anything aggressive,”

    “Something doesn't feel right,” he turned and proceeded to start an internal security sensor sweep. The sweep started aft at the back of the nacelles and progressed forward at a steady pace. To scan a ship this size—on the standard “Normal” setting—would take about ten minutes, give or take. 

    Five seconds into the scan, an anomaly blinked on and off Voyager's cutaway side-view diagram in the ventral hull. 

    Another anomaly, a few decks higher near engineering.

    And another, in the saucer section. 

    “What-the-heck?” The Deputy asked barely loud enough for the Chief to hear. 

    The Chief overheard and looked at the deputy's computer, watching the deputy point out the different locations on the diagram where the anomalies appeared. The deputy marked them using one of the security tools, and then immediately entered the finding into the ship's security logs. 

    Over his shoulder, the Chief of Security was shocked to have overheard the special operations team leader give an order for a special operation away team to assemble in shuttle bay one. 

    They are going in.    

 

*****

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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The Depths - Part 9

    Everything was going to plan—so far, the admiral reminded himself, taking another breath of decongestant from his inhaler as he watched the interstellar developments in progress. His contact was on time, as his reputation suggested would be the case. And it was, again. Long-range scans and listening posts confirmed that his contact was in possession of what would make stage three possible. He decided that it was time for phase two.
    He tapped his chair's control panel, connecting him with the hangar chief. “Prepare my transport for immediate departure.”
    The order was acknowledged, the line was closed on the opposite end of the comm line, and the hangar chief immediately ensured that everything that was needed to promptly accomplish that order was put in motion. The pilots and onboard security would be arriving in near-record time. The transport was ready for launch in just a few minutes. 

    USSC Voyager

    A sensor alarm sounded; the external sensors officer's screen flashed thrice. “Destination directly ahead. Detecting USSC Odyssey on target,” 

    “Very good,” the captain authoritatively acknowledged. The X.O. would take over from there. This was a good time to get some command experience. 

    “Helm, slow to a full stop. Bring us alongside the Odyssey,” The order was promptly acknowledged. “Alert the Shadows,”

    The internal communications officer carried out the order rapidly, then hung up and turned around with a stunned look on her face. “Sir, the Shadows are already—”

    The Chief of the Boat (COB) snapped to his left at the top of the spiral staircase at the twelve muscular men dressed in special forces battle dress uniform and declared, “Captain's in combat!”

*****

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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The Depths - Part 8

    The bright, blazing emerald green translight funnel chaotically swirled for nearly a light-year ahead. The border patrol had gone smoothly, and then the sudden change of orders alarmed everyone. Literally, the captain smirked at his view screen. The long red lights on the walls, ceiling, and lining the deck plating faded in and out throughout his heavy cruiser. His ship was at alert condition three—yellow, danger possible, all hands to duty stations and standby for orders from the chain of command. The latest intelligence report suggested that casualties were now a possibility. The last thing he wanted to do was give the order to fire his ship's weapons, some of which were experimental, but three of The Union's finest supercomputers projected what they were capable of. He did not look forward to that, but he would if he had to. The bridge clock was counting down to their arrival: T-minus fifteen minutes–forty seconds until the helmsman would bring the ship out of translight and into sublight velocity.
    The yeoman acted as though he was working; he glanced around the bridge a few times, took a few mental notes, and then walked to the anti-gravity lift. When the doors closed behind him, he activated the hidden monitor implanted under his skin and began fingering a message, addressing it to his four-star superior officer.
    “Another Union ship is coming to the rendevous point. Heavily armed, shielded, and armored. The crew is capable. Immediate tactical advantage. Will send data on defensive systems when able to ensure tactical vulnerability. Comm silence until then. Tracker active. Good luck. 

    -End of Message.” 

    The yeoman used a special encoding method to mask his transmission and then sent the message on a piggy-pack of the ship's tertiary communications array. He powered off the monitor, pulled his sleeve down his forearm, started the antigravity lift to a few random destinations, changed his holographic outfit to his default outfit appearance, and then began working to open the anti-grav's roof hatch. There was more work to be done if the plan was to succeed. 

*****

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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The Depths - Part 7

    USSC Odyssey

    “Have you been able to get any idea of what's in that pitch darkness?” Smith asked Jones with a cold directness. The bridge was beginning to feel chilled like someone told the main computer to reduce the temperature somewhere between 'my nose is numb' and 'my toes are falling off!' He tuned out the temperature change, but at the same time in the back of his mind, he wondered what was going on. 

    “Negative, sir. I've run every scan we can. Even for Odyssey, whatever's ahead of us—and there is something out there—whatever's hiding it is pretty much impervious to our technology.” And that was sayin' something. “I can tell you whatever's out there is big, but the sensors can't get any specifics.” Not yet, at least. What she just told her second in command made her feel a little queazy. She still had a few ideas, all of which involved the probes officer. 

    Smith leaned next to Jones and gestured the science officer to huddle up. 

    Smith had to speak quietly to avoid interrupting their Captain. Something was definitely up. He had a funny gut feeling—and then that sank into a bad gut feeling. Smith even gestured over his shoulder at Connors to join in. 

    “I know things are tense right now.” All three officers responded with nods. “We need to know what's going on out there. Here's what I want you three to do—”

    Aaen sensed danger; his curiosity piqued as to 'what' and 'where', but so far there were no answers—yet. 

    USSC Voyager

    “ETA: Six hours,” 

    The attention on the bridge instinctively and inevitably shifted to the left wing of the bridge. 

    “Translight is holding,” 

    As expected, the X.O. silently thought. He was proud of his ship, and those on every deck who were hard at work helping to run it efficiently. His next question was for the right-wing sensors officer. “Is the Odyssey still on target?” 

    Seconds later, his answer came as, “Affirmative,”

    The intra-ship communications officer's table-mounted communicator handset lit up blue. Less than a second later, the Chief of the Boat looked left and then declared, “Captain on the bridge!” The bridge crew carefully noted there was no mention of who had tactical command under regulations. The silent assumption was that Voyager's assigned captain was still in command. This assumption was accurate. The bridge crew stayed at their stations and watched as a steely team of ripped men of varying height with short dark hair and wearing dark grey jumpsuits marched quickly up the 1G gravity spiral staircase. These men walked to specific points on the bridge in what appeared to be a jagged circle around who they assumed was their team leader, a six-foot-nothing man who looked like he spent plenty of time working out, and always made sure to accomplish his team's mission. 

    The rest of the team of men stood at ease with their hands behind their backs and observed the bridge. The bridge crew felt like they were so far under the most uncomfortable professional microscope of their careers. Every Voyager bridge crew member got chills and fear-ridden goosebumps at the sight of the men in dark grey jumpsuits. 

    The bridge felt like the ship just changed ownership. 

    The First Officer asked how these guys got past, or through, the bridge's automated security measures. He wondered why these guys are called 'Shadows'? There was a certain mystique about where these men were deployed from, where they are stationed, who they answer to, and their methods. 

    “Captain, my name is Lieutenant Marshal. I lead US Shadow Team Alpha.” 

    A sensor alert sounded. “Sir! USSC New Horizon is matching our velocity and is joining formation.” 

*****

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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The Depths - Part 6

    The deep-space stealth troop transport shuttle would be arriving any second now. One had never been aboard the Voyager before. Neither had his team. He remembered a conversation he couldn't help but overhear in passing when he was in basic training; two then-Lieutenants apparently went on a little ride as part of a duty assignment rotation. They both wanted to stay aboard that ship. They thought the Voyager was a beautiful ship, capable of holding her ground. Officially considered a heavy cruiser, most people unofficially considered it a battle-cruiser. . . He had been aboard a handful of ships during his ten years of active duty service in special operations. Scout ships, light cruisers, science ships, tactical cruisers. . . All of those ships saw some degree of action. All of those ships held their ground well with their respective variable tactical capability. He quickly respected every sailor he got an opportunity to work with on each ship he was deployed to because of operational necessity, and the ships they worked on. 
    He was absolutely focused on ensuring his team's mission ended successfully, but he was still notably curious about the Voyager. 
    The sun inched below the horizon. Night came in what seemed like seconds. 
    His radio clicked on using a particular frequency and classified encoding that is only accessible to special operators, “Voyager to Alpha One. We have a phase target on your group. Standby to board. Over.”
    “Copy, Voyager. Alpha team standing by.” 

    USSC Voyager 

    The right-wing phase officer signaled the front of the bridge. The Intra-ship Communications officer nodded acknowledgment and then promptly opened a public announcement channel to the rest of the ship. 
    “All hands: this is the bridge. Prepare to board the Shadows.”
    Every man and woman on board knew what that meant. Even the civilians. 
    The Captain turned to his navigator, “ETA to our next?”
    The calculations were swift coming. “Thirteen hours if we maintain maximum translight, sir,”
    The Captain had already made his decision on how fast his ship was going to travel once their special passengers come on board. When the Shadows enter the bridge, the Chief of the Boat (C.O.B.) would announce that the tactical command is with the team's leader. This would be the case until the mission was determined to be complete. 
    The intra-ship comm line's display lit up a light blue. She answered promptly. Ten seconds later, she hung up the handset and turned around. “Captain, the Shadows are onboard!” 

    The Shadows immediately sealed off all but the primary entrance to the shuttle bay to non-essential personnel and then began setting up their gear inside shuttle bay one. 

    “X.O. Get us underway.” The Captain commanded.
    “Eye, sir. Tactical. Set your alert status to Blue.” The X.O. commanded. “Helm. Set your new course to intercept point. Set your speed to maximum translight.” 
    The X.O.'s orders were carried out with haste. 

    *****

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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The Depths - Part 5

    The Pentagon, Earth

   “When did this report come in?” General Hammond asked sharply, appearing alarmed. 

   “A few minutes ago. We've been able to establish Odyssey's general location, but the region of space they're in is making an exact trace impossible. We've never seen space behave anything like this before.”

    The Voyager was en route to the Odyssey and was scheduled to pick up a Shadow team before arriving. What the heck is going on out there? Hammon silently asked himself. He had a mission report due to the secretary of the space force by the end of the day. 

    This was going to be interesting... Then again, maybe this was a step in the right direction? He had an idea. 

    “Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed.” Hammon said, returning a salute from the Lieutenant and then watched as the Lieutenant turned about-face and then walked out of the room. Hammond's office doors closed. 

    Shadow Training Facility, Earth

    Alpha stacked up along both sides of the door that was estimated to be their best entry point. The team held their rifles at low-ready, rifle safeties switched off. The team's primary sniper was perched four hundred yards south of the entry team. Because the exercise was at night, he used a dynamic scope capable of alternating between night vision and thermal vision. The scope's targeting crosswires were thin and precise, and he appreciated the comparably designed measurements he could see in the scope to better help him do his job if he found himself having to open fire. The spotter gave him the necessary windage readings for him to adjust if needed-be. 

    The radio clicked, “One to twelve, see anything?” Alpha One asked. 

    The sniper activated his radio. “Negative, One. You are clear for entry, over.”

    “Copy. All Alpha entry elements, on me. Standby for phase one.” He commanded. With that, the entry team raised their rifles as if ready to fire. 

    “Cut the power.” Alpha Two commanded. 

    The lights blinked out. Alpha Twelve kept scanning the windows and the rooftops. 

    Alpha One got on the radio, “Three. Two. One. Execute-execute-execute.”

    In a fraction of a second, Alpha Three squeezed the detonator trigger. The door exploded into dust as the entry team entered like a violent flood—

    *****

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:

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The Depths - Part 4

    USSC Odyssey

    “This is Captain Aaen Winter of The Union deep-space tactical starship Odyssey. Please identify yourself, over.” 

    A human silence filled the bridge. 

    The hull and the deck plating shuddered and rocked abruptly as though a meteor had struck the outer hull; the bridge lighting flickered as the crew jumped to brace against their stations. 

    Aaen leaned forward cautiously and looked at Smith; Aaen wondered why his ship didn't automatically go to Red Alert. 

    The bridge was quickly again still, and silent. 

    Aaen gradually eased his fingers out of the indentations he had forced into the front of his cushioned armrests. “Any damage?” Aaen asked Wilson. 

    Wilson evaluated the data on his computer monitor with professional precision and then turned his head over his shoulder. 

    Seconds later, Jones slapped a hand-written printout on Smith's station. Smith nodded acknowledgment as Jones her station. 

    Smith read the printout and then turned to his captain and read loud enough for the bridge to hear. 

    “Sir, you're not gonna believe this,” Smith said darkly. 

    Smith immediately got Aaen's attention. 

    Hayes' computer flashed thrice suddenly. “We just got an enormous data download.” 

    “From who?” Smith asked bluntly. 

    Hayes was quick to decode the download. “...From...” Hayes eyed her screen quickly and carefully. “USSC...” She gradually looked over her shoulder at the rest of the bridge with a shocked look. She struggled to swallow. Her thoughts blurred from sudden-onset stress and near-panic, she couldn't feel the cool air freshly cleaned by the Co2 scrubbers while the rest of the bridge stared at her curious about whatever was displayed on her computer screen. 

    An uncomfortably cold mystique flooded the bridge. 

    The crew felt almost painful chills—

    Classified Facility, North-Eastern hemisphere, Mars

    There was nothing like a long day on the gun range, but there was nothing better than a deployment. Despite the dangers of climbing into a helo, flying more deeply into enemy territory than any other special operations force is capable of, and then carrying out whatever direct action orders they are given, the men of the United States Interstellar Shadow Forces Corps detachment Alpha were going to keep themselves sharp in case the call came in. They had to. They wanted to. And they did. More often than not, they liked to make a competition of their range time. Sometimes the competition was monetary, sometimes the competition was over the team's favorite beverage, or a favor, a competition with other detachments, among other possibilities. This time the call came in, but there was some much-needed prep time before deploying. Where they were going, and what they were going to do, and why, were predictably absolutely classified. 

    Senior Master Chief M. Devreaux attached his rifle's suppressor, slapped a fresh 30-round magazine full of 5.56-millimeter rounds into his M42 assault rifle, and then sharply chambered a round like the action was simple muscle memory. The entire process took fifteen seconds. Five seconds slower than Omega team's leader, but he chose to ignore that fact. 

    He got into the prone position and rested the barrel on the sandbag mount in front of him, but he insisted on holding the rifle manually, tucking the butt tightly into his shoulder. 

    He enjoyed the sound of the loud suppressed POP of the other eleven riflemen in the lanes to his right as he glared and sighted the holographic generic target fifty yards downrange with professional proficiency. He took one more second to inch the small red dot in the center of his rifle's holo sight on the tiny white “X” in the target's center-of-mass, and then immediately thumbed the rifle to single fire. He momentarily strained to focus on the target. 

    Three suppressed shots later to his right, he squeezed the trigger like he was taking a breath. He watched the round impact like lightning in the distance. The target flickered as though the power to the holo emitters had been seemingly reduced. He thought he was slightly off. 

    He fired a second shot within a fraction of a second of the first. The target flickered more violently this time. He was pleased that he had been lucky enough to land a shot within a centimeter of the first. 

    He fired a third shot even closer to the second shot. A near-perfect hole formed within the target area. 

    He switched the rifle to automatic and aimed higher at another “X”; one much higher on the target, and then quickly held the trigger down. The rifle breathed a tongue of fire as the target was riddled with rounds in a reasonably organized grouping. 

    He still had it. But he wished he didn't have to. 

    The rest of the range depleted their ammunition for this phase of deployment prep. They stood up, removed the magazines from their guns, and then cased them. 

    Next was the demo test range where they would do the live-action practice. If there were to be any mistakes, this was the time to make them. They all knew their team leader would be watching them and criticizing them. They didn't look forward to that, but they knew the criticism was to help save their careers—even more importantly, their lives. 

    Even better, the base's second in command would be overseeing all of them and assessing their readiness for this op, and reporting to the President. Being a special operator and assigned to a team wasn't enough. If they wanted to get paid, they had to deploy. 

    They were well motivated to prove themselves. More often than not, innocent lives depended on them. 

    *****

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

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Thank you, and happy reading!