Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [5]
There were a dozen men sprawled about the surprisingly spacious area. Eight were veterans of the first mission, the job that had taken them to Mars and then, unexpectedly, had vaulted them as captives through hyperspace to the star system known as Batuu. There, they had turned the tables on their captors, the Eluoi, managing to disrupt the operations of a major interstellar slave merchant known as Tezlac Catal. Enlisting the aid of another alien warrior, the Assarn pilot Olin Parvik, the SEALS had raised considerable havoc in the Eluoi city before escaping from the planet in a stolen shuttle to rendezvous with the Pegasus as the frigate made the interstellar jump to rescue them.
Four new men, each an accomplished SEAL operator, had passed the rigorous training regimen—including stints at McMurdo Station in Antarctica and final commissioning aboard the space station known as SATSTAR1—and earned the rocket fins of the elite of the elite: They were now SEALS. Baxter and Keast each possessed a steady eye and were deadly shots with any firearm. Corpsman Mirowski and Electrician’s Mate James Schroeder also were assets to the SEALS. The big blond Pole was an inveterate jokester, and “Schrade” brought some excellent technical expertise into the Team. All the new men had been assigned to a veteran to make up a shooter pair while they developed their experience in operating with the unique unit. All in all, they were a group of men to be extremely proud of, as both Master Chief Ruiz and Chief Harris well knew.
“All right, you SEALS,” Chief Harris said cheerfully. “This old boat is about to go very, very fast. I need you to strap everything down—including yourselves—and be ready to do a little traveling.”
The men moved to obey, and in surprisingly short order the collective chaos of the compartment had been squared away.
An hour later the little fleet reached jump speed. Now far astern, the sun flickered and, from the point of view of all three ships, abruptly disappeared.
Jackson and Doctor Sulati buckled themselves to a comfortable lounge seat as the ships jumped from the solar system to the star known to the people of Earth as Alpha Centauri. As usual, the jump passed almost instantaneously, with just a flicker of lights and a sensation of a rather sharp jolt, hence the requirement that everyone and everything be strapped down. For a short time they were weightless as the ship pivoted to bring her stern in line with the destination. Then the engines fired at full power, and the sensation of gravity—now the result of deceleration—returned.
As soon as the ships completed the jump, Jackson turned back to Doctor Sulati. The pair settled into their comfortable seat in a lounge next to the Pangaea’s medical compartment, secure from the prying eyes of officious admirals and dutiful diplomats. They had spent several congenial hours getting reacquainted, but their conversation naturally turned to the mission and the unknown destination before them.
“The conference will be held on one of the moons in the Centauri system. It orbits a gas giant, but I understand the star is intense enough to keep the temperature around zero,” the doctor noted.
“I hope you brought your mittens,” quipped Jackson.
Sulati chuckled. “I don’t think I’m getting off this ship. They have me doing twelve-hour shifts in the clinic, just making sure that none of the ambassadors gets so much as a runny nose.”
“What do they think they can accomplish?” the lieutenant asked, turning serious. He was voicing a question that many military personnel had pondered: Why would the governments of Earth send so many valuable leaders into what could be nothing more than an interplanetary trap?
“Well, the Shamani have guaranteed our safety,” the doctor noted, referring to the first of the three empires to have contacted Earth, back in 2047. The Shamani had provided the initial technology to allow humankind to reach the stars, and in those initial explorations, men—most notably, the SEALS—had come into contact