Into the Fire

Sci-Friday Entry

The Bridge of the CNS Donovan was shrouded in shadows that were broken only by the flickering of the monitors at the watch stations.

The Captain looked up from his data device as the ship’s computer sounded the shift change.  He covertly watched as the first shift came in and relieved the dog-watch.  With a hidden smile, he pretended to watch the tactical plot on the repeater screen next to his chair.  When he thought he had given them enough time to settle in and look over the previous shift's reports, he turned his chair to the left and caught the attention of the Operations Officer.

"Status report."

"One moment, please, sir," she requested as she pushed a lock of raven hair behind her right ear and looked over her console. When she looked back up, her hazel eyes locked on his, and for a moment, he was lost in the past. With crystal clarity, he recalled the day ten years earlier when his best friend had introduced him to the woman he intended to marry.

'If anything,' he thought, 'she's only grown more beautiful with time.'

"Sir?" she inquired.

'What the ...?" he cast back in his thoughts. 'Damn, I didn't even hear her report.'  "I'm sorry, Commander, I was momentarily lost in thought."

As she gazed at him, her expression turned thoughtful. "I see, sir," and then her lips curled in a wicked smile.  "If my husband were to find out ..."

The Captain looked over to where the tactical officer was pretending to clean under his fingernails with an imaginary knife and feigned a shiver.  "If you will please repeat your report, um, I'll try not to get lost in thought again."

The Operations Officer laughed softly and winked at her husband before gracefully giving her report.  "We are running with all active communications systems shut down. Only passive systems are on-line."

The Captain nodded and turned to the sensor suite, only to find the blonde-tressed sensor chief gazing at him.  As she unconsciously licked her lips and brushed her hands down her sides, the Captain's eyes followed the motion, and he had no trouble imagining the young woman in the traditional gauzy outfit of a Rigellian dancer.  He could almost see her lithe form beckoning him to partake of freely offered paradise.

The Ensign's eyes darkened, and as if she could read his thoughts, her lips curled into a mischievous grin. She calmly stated,  "All sensor systems are locked in passive mode. Emissions control status is confirmed."

The Captain blinked, 'My god,' he thought, 'I need to get my ashes hauled in the worst way.  I am most surely thinking improper thoughts."  After taking a deep breath, he turned his chair away from temptation and requested an engineering report.

"Gravity drive functioning within parameters.  Jump Drive is on hot stand-by, and the zero point reactor is running at ninety-nine point five percent efficiency," came the clear and concise report from the Chief Engineer.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Shea." The Captain nodded and turned to the left, bypassing the mission’s operation station.  He was about to ask for a tactical report when he saw the weapons officer hunched over his console, staring intently at the readouts.  "Paul?"  He paused as the tactical officer held up his right hand for a second.  

As he waited patiently for the tactical officer's report, he was mentally reviewing the current special operations doctrine, which called for a completely stealth approach to the listening posts that dotted the borders between the Muslim Caliphate and the Free Worlds Confederacy, followed by insertion and retrieval of recon teams by stealth shuttles.  Since all communications were by tight beam laser links, and all energy emissions were damped, detection by enemy forces was theoretically impossible.  'The bad thing is,' Wiess mused, "I've seen the impossible happen.'

Tactical Considerations

A few minutes later, Commander Paul Friesz looked up and nodded, "All clear.  I thought I saw something on passive sensors, but whatever it was, it's not showing up now."

Wiess quirked a brow and tapped his fingers on the armrest.  He had a decision to make, which depended on what Friesz would say next.  "What do you think it was?"

Friesz shrugged, "Without using full sensors...."

"Which would give our position away," Wiess interrupted.

"Which would give us away," Friesz agreed. I couldn't tell. It could be a stealthed ship or a piece of space debris."  He looked at Wiess and saw the multitudes of scenarios play out in his eyes.

"Bring us to a full stop," Wiess commanded, then turned to look at the tactical operations officer.  "Mister Hyshato, report."

"We will be in laser communication range of outpost nine, ten minutes after we start moving again.  Recon Squad Seven and Ranger Platoon Four are on standby."

Wiess leaned back, "How long has it been since we've heard from outpost nine?"

The Oriental officer called up the information:  "According to command, recon squad twelve has missed three sitreps."

Wiess leveled a look at him. "Three situation reports.  Were they three in a row or intermittent?"

Hyshato scratched his cheek, "The last three," he replied, then checked, "and before you ask, that information is current as of our decanting from hyperspace."

"That was two weeks ago," Wiess frowned, "They've missed five now."  He turned back to tactical, "Paul, how certain are you that what you saw wasn't a ship?"

Friesz blinked and gave it some thought.  To someone who knew him as Wiess did, the blank look on his face meant he was mentally reviewing the data.  "Sixty-eight to seventy-two percent."

Wiess nodded. "I'll take those odds," he commented as he leaned back. Mister White, Resume course at one hundred ten gravities. When we are just inside laser-comm range, bring us to a full stop."  Without waiting for a confirmation of his orders, he pushed himself out of his chair and gestured to Hyshato, "Walk with me."

The dark-haired intelligence officer locked his console and followed Wiess off the bridge, across the corridor, and through the hatch marked 'Combat Information Center.'   They walked over to the holo tank. "Give me an overview of outpost nine."  After sitting down, the tactical operations officer pulled out a chair and activated the holo-tank.  Within minutes, a holographic representation of the listening outpost was hovering above the tabletop.  To the untrained eye, it looked like a miner's shack that had been planted on an asteroid that seemed adrift in space, but underneath the facade were the most powerful sensors known to man, and the receivers were directed towards the heart of the Moslem Caliphate.

Wiess stared at the ugly-looking carbonaceous asteroid, then reached out, touched one side of the image, and pulled it toward him.  The computer interpreted his command and rotated the image on the x-axis.  He watched momentarily, then zoomed in on two points, examining them closely.  He then touched the top of the image and drug it down, moving it on the y-axis, again zooming in on the two points of interest.

After five more minutes of staring at the hologram, he turned to Hyshato.  "Here's the plan.  I want the rangers to enter the secondary docking port and search room-by-room.  I want Recon Team Seven to dock at the escape pod bunker and sweep toward central control.  Recon Seven will not contact us until the comm array and central control are deemed ninety-eight percent clean and clear."

"Understood, sir," the tactical operations officer solemnly replied as he finished inputting the orders.  Wiess held up one hand as the quiet hum of the deck plates beneath his feet changed pitch.  Hyshato put an image of the Donovan in the holofield without being asked, which adjusted itself to the tactical plot.  

Wiess nodded as he saw the strike cruiser's position just inside laser communications range.  His hand went to his right ear and activated the interlink.  "Captain Wiess to Shuttle Bay.  Prepare two cobras for launch."