The SV Alpha I control room was a beehive of activity as every available technician was at their station pulling double-duty shifts. Every monitor, radar receiver, and deep space probe was being recorded and analyzed for any potential news regarding the whereabouts of the SVS Four Banger.
The state-of-emergency would be in effect for the duration of the ordeal, and the Mad Scientist did not like it one bit. Too much time was being spent away from the laboratories, and this would further delay the completion of Project: Four Track Mind. He was extremely frustrated, mostly at himself. But, he knew he had to keep his cool, because there was too much at stake should he lose his perspective.
He stood at the railing overlooking the control room, watching the swarm of activity below him, when felt a hand on his shoulder. “My analytical friend,” said the Witch Doctor, “do not blame yourself for this situation. Try one of these. You need to get some rest.”
The Doctor handed him a small, blue orb that glowed coolly from deep within itself.
“Thanks, buddy,” the Scientist replied, “but I cannot sleep. They will find him soon, and I want to be the first to wring his neck.” He winked with a grimace, in that half serious way of his.
“Ahhhh, these patients…” the Doctor chuckled, “they can be so brilliant, yet so short-sighted.”
The Mad Scientist sighed, “I should never have given him the codes.”
“It would not have been practical to do otherwise. It was a decision made by all of the Board of Directors.” countered the Doctor, “And besides, you know he is the best pilot in the galaxy. He seemed destined to fly the Four Banger. I am certain that he will take care of the ship. He has an emotional attachment to it.”
“Yes, you are right, shaman,” he replied, “but let us hope that an ally of the Institute finds him first. For there will be nothing left of the Captain if the Galactic Marshals reach him, and nothing left of the Four Banger if he is found by the bounty hunters.”
The Mad Scientist rolled the small, blue orb between his fingers, watching the cool, glowing light pulsate in sync with his heartbeat. “
We have many allies,” said the Witch Doctor, “and some very high placed friends that have our backs covered.”
“But who will watch their backs,” the Scientist said, “when an Intergalactic Tribunal is formed to investigate the destruction of one of their Constable Patrol vessels? The universal law of politics will be in effect as everyone tries to cover their asses.”
Both men nodded in agreement, knowing full well that the implications of the incident could have far reaching effects.
The Mad Scientist could feel the blue orb taking effect. Three days without sleep was finally catching up to him, and the Witch Doctor’s magic was allowing him to relax and feel his own weariness.
“I will come for you if anything should develop” said the Doctor, motioning towards the tri-vibroid chamber door leading to the living quarters.
The Scientist rolled the blue orb a little more, feeling its calming effects throughout his entire being. He knew his friend was right. He needed to rest, because there was no telling when he might have a chance to do so again.
“Thanks” he said, as he walked to the door.
Suddenly, a tri-vibroid chamber door leading to the control room swooshed open, and a breathless ensign came barging out.
“Sirs!” he said, “I think you need to come see this!”
“What is it?” questioned the Scientist.
“I…I don’t know, sir. You need to see for yourself!”
The Witch Doctor and Mad Scientist immediately stepped into the door leading to the control room elevator. When the door opened, the ensign rushed out, with the two men following.
He stepped up to a monitor that displayed “NASA TRANSMISSION” above it and handed the audio headset to the Scientist.
“This is a recorded message,” said the ensign, “and now there is nothing being transmitted except data requests.”
A look of concern crept over both men’s faces, because they knew all too well that NASA never stopped transmitting completely.
The ensign pushed a series of buttons and plugged in another headset, which he handed to the Doctor. The sounds of white noise could be heard in the headsets, and then a male voice broke in, “…Houston!…come in, do you read me?!..Houston!…is Colonel Smith with the ISS, we have declared an emergency and we are…..”
A garbled voice could be heard through the white noise. Both men thought they could hear screams, too.
“...escape pods are being launched…Houston!…please….if you can…ever...is covered in a dark shadow…”
The transmission ended.
“This is all we have, sir” said the ensign.
“What was being transmitted before this message?” asked the Doctor.
“Regular traffic,” replied the ensign, “supplies required, experiment results, daily logs. Nothing to indicate that there were any problems.”
“And did the ISS launch the escape pods?” the Doctor questioned.
“We don’t know, sir. There is a lot of space interference and solar flares, so we have been having difficulties for the past two hours with all of our transmitting equipment.”
“What about transmissions from ground control” queried the Scientist.
“NASA is continuing to send out data requests, pursuant to their standard operational procedures.”
“So it isn’t our receiver...” muttered the Doctor. “Initiate a plasma transducer scan of this quadrant, and incorporate a sub-androsis particle analyzer” commanded the Scientist. He had a hunch, and it could only be confirmed with a deep spectrum analysis.
“Yes, sir!” replied the ensign, “but it’ll take at least an hour to complete.”
“Thanks, ensign” confirmed the Mad Scientist, as he handed the small, blue orb back to the Doctor, “I don’t think I’ll be needing this for awhile.”
Their eyes met, and the Witch Doctor could feel something deep within his bones. The sub-conscious tingling down his spine was an emotion that he was not very familiar with in his life. That emotion was fear.
