Strike
Lt Jones sat in the cockpit of the time pod while Supervisor 194 continued to talk to her through the subcutaneous transceiver in the skin just behind her right ear. "The probe will be launched from a cloaked orbital platform at midnight. The target appears to be the Kremlin."
"And of course they will blame it on the West."
"Al Qaeda."
"That's ridiculous. Al Qaeda had no interest in Russia at that point."
"And Russia knows that. The threat is from Gasparov, a Russian separatist with ties to the Eastern Coalition. If the western powers were to learn that there is a separatist movement in Russia, they might covertly support it. But claims of an Al Qaeda attack on Russian soil- on the Kremlin could win western sympathy and support."
"Can't I transit straight onto the platform?"
From his office in 21st century New York, Gary Seven adjusted the controls of the Beta V terminal until a computer generated image the platform appeared in the velvet of space. "That was my first thought, but there is a temporal detection grid surrounding it. Someone is apparently expecting interference." He sighed. "We'll need to drop you in behind the moon. You can set the pod to take you in towards the platform and beam you on board."
"A temporal detection grid on a cloaked platform orbiting earth in the 21st century? Who is sponsoring this guy?"
"That is a different line of investigation. Just focus on the probe, 135."
Jones knew that Seven meant business when he dropped the names and started going by numbers. "Acknowledged, Supervisor 194. I have the schematics committed. Ready to launch."
"Launching." Seven sent the relay signal that according to the tech specialists at Aegis Headquarters didn't so much launch 135 from the 31st century as it pulled her towards the 21st. It was a matter of quantum and temporal physics that he understood enough to utilize and work with, but no more.
Jones felt her ears pop as the travel pod appeared in normal space/time. After checking the locator readout, she rose from the control panel and turned. "Transit successful. Some of the automatic circuits seem to be non-functional. I'm going below to manually prep security protocols."
"Acknowledged." 194's voice sounded distorted and attenuated, but that was a normal effect of trans-temporal communications. "That's been known to happen. Something about the biocircuits reacting to the time travel. You have two hours before the probe is launched."
"I should have plenty of time," she said as she moved aft to the craft's interior maintenance hatch. Without another word, she opened the reinforced hatch and descended into the time pod's null space compartment. This compartment, a storage and maintenance area larger in volume than the exterior hull of the roughly cylindrical time pod was composed of null space, an outgrowth of the 'portable hole' physics cheat developed in the experimental R&D labs of ACME Corp. The null space compartment made possible some of the more exotic propulsion systems of the pod, as well as providing easy access to the biocircuitry that made the whole thing possible. Jones didn't pretend to understand the physics behind null space, except that it had something to do with a portable subspace generator and the way it affected time and the relative dimension in space. And even that was rumored to be a ruse created by the same brains that created the null space generator. "Just don't close in on me" she thought outloud as she opened an access panel and enabled the tracking/retrieval feature that would automatically return the pod to the 31st century within a set amount of time. Once it was set, she closed the access panel and climbed back up to the cockpit. Out of the null-space environment, she could contact Seven again. "I set auto-retrieval for five hours.
"Acknowledged 135. You'd better get moving."
"On my way," Jones answered curtly, cutting the comlink. "You're such a ray of sunshine," she muttered. Then she moved to the cockpit and sat down and swiveled the chair around to face the control console. Accessing the pod's sensors, she found the cloaked platform exactly where Seven said it would be. "Computer, engage cloak and set course for the platform. Notify me when we're in transit range."
"Acknowledged."
It took just a few minutes for the pod to slip through space. Before long, Jones saw a computer generated wire-frame outline of the platform. A muted 'ping' from the console indicated that transit range had been reached. "Transit enhancers active. Scan for life support status."
"Transit enhancers active ," the computer repeated. "Life support simulating Class M."
"Beam me to an area that doesn't contain any life forms." Jones paused for a moment, allowing the computer to locate such an area. She had committed the layouts (gathered from 194’s all-knowing, all-seeing Beta V computer) to memory, so she had an idea where that would take her. Her breath caught as the beam caught her, and transited her to the platform.
“What the hell?” She was in what appeared to be the launch deck. Filled with people. And all of them pointing energy weapons at her.
“Computer! Emergency transit!”
Seconds later, she found herself back in the pod. “Alert! Alert!” The computer announced.
“What happened?”
“Probe launch ahead of schedule.”
Jones swore. “You were supposed to beam me to an area without lifeforms!”
The computer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then it went on as if she hadn’t said anything. “Probe will enter the atmosphere in five minutes. Target, Kremlin. Moscow. Russia.”
“What happened?” She shouted. “There were lifeforms there! Lots of angry lifeforms!”
“Probe will enter atmosphere in four minutes 50 seconds.”
“What’s wrong with you?” She shouted.
“A self-diagnostic will take ten minutes. Probe will enter atmosphere in four minutes 40 seconds.”
“We aren’t finished with this. Intercept probe. Prepare to fire phasers.”
“Probe will enter atmosphere in four minutes 30 seconds.”
“Time to intercept.”
“Three minutes 30 seconds. Probe will enter atmosphere in four minutes 20 seconds.”
“That’s too close. Accelerate. Prepare to fire phasers.”
“Probe will enter atmosphere in four minutes 10 seconds.”
“Fire!”
“Pod is not in range to assure destruction of-“
“Override and fire!”
“Firing.”
Jones was vaguely aware of the pod vanishing around her… the she seemed to catch up with it. Then she was transited outside of the pod. She found herself walking into Seven’s office, coming out of the transit chamber built into a wall.
“Your pod was returned to the 31st century. What happened?”
Jones had to stop before answering him. She still hadn’t caught her breath from the harrowing evengts of the last few minutes. “The computer beamed me into an inhabited and heavily guarded section of the platform. I was almost killed. I ordered the computer to beam me back, and as I materialized, the probe was launched ahead of schedule. I attempted to intercept. Phasers were firing as the pod was retrieved.”
“The mission was not a complete failure,” Seven said dryly. “The probe was not destroyed, but it was disabled. It broke up in the atmosphere and has been reported, thanks to agents 371 and 195, as a meteor strike. It rained down over the Ural Mountains in Russia. More than 1,000 people were injured in the Chelyabinsk region. Most reliable sources have accepted it the story.” Seven sounded almost mournful. “Our people will recover the debris and scatter a sufficient amount of extraterrestrial material to satisfy the souvenir hunters.” He stepped slowly behind his desk, but didn’t seat himself. “So what do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Either those weren't lifeforms on the platform…” she began.
“Or there’s something wrong with the computer,” Seven finished.
