“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!”
*****
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