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."
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