Currently, he was beside Lieutenant Ontavia Patterson, the obvious object of Captain Mansel's attention, running a diagnostic scan on the sublight engines.  Fleury noticed that Patterson was frowning greatly.  "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"

The female engineer shook her head.  "It's these sublight engines, sir...they just don't sound right."

Fleury shrugged and diverted his attention back to his scan.  "They sound alright to me."

Patterson shook her head again.  "I don't know...maybe it's just me. I've been somewhat distracted lately."

Her last comment interested Fleury greatly.  "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked softly, hoping it was in reference to the captain.  He thought they'd make a good couple.  Unfortunately for him, she shook her head.

"No sir, I'll be alright, it's just--" she stopped abruptly as the vents in Engineering snapped open and pink smoke billowed out.  Gas! was Fleury’s first thought.  His second was to notify the Captain.  His hand didn’t make it to the button in time.  His vision blurred, the room spun, and he passed out.

At his desk in his modest size office, Lieutenant Commander Casey Ames was finishing up his weekly security report.  Taking a quick glance out of his door to the Security room, he could see that most of his officers were pretty relaxed, waiting for the shift to change.  They had a right to be relaxed, he thought.  They were deep within UNGG space, docked next to the Stealthlon of all ships.  What could go wrong?

He didn’t anticipate pink smoke to come rushing out of the vents.  Even as Ames hit the floor, unable to reach his communications console, he had a good idea as to whom it was that had brought the pink toxin among his men.

“Are we ready to get back underway?” Mansel asked, sitting in the lone chair in the middle of the bridge.  Something within him didn’t sit right, but he shrugged it off.  He just wanted to get these people off his ship as soon as possible.

“Waiting to get word from Space Control,” reported Lieutenant Hardy from the Communications station.  “Should hear from them shortly.”

“Good,” piped up Commander Vaughn from the left side of the bridge.  “Can’t wait to get back to that good ‘ol star mapping.”

“Receiving word from Space Control,” reported Hardy.  “We have permission to go.”

“Ask them to open bay doors,” Mansel ordered, but the order didn’t need to be asked.  They bay doors automatically opened, as if eager to get the Explorer out.

“Well then,” Mansel continued.  “Broadway—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish.  The vents overhead opened wide and a pink gaseous substance streamed out.

“Toxin!” Lieutenant Commander Lamb announced, too late.

“Hardy!” exclaimed Mansel.  “Get word to the UNSF—” his sentence was cut short as both he and Hardy dropped to the deck, along with the rest of the bridge crew.

Hanz Waltz waltzed onto the bridge, gas mask firmly in place.  Over the mask transmission, he said, “alright, boys and girls, she’s all ours.”

From the turbolift, the escorted guests strode onto the bridge and waited for the gas to dissipate before removing their masks.  The designated helm officer, a pilot, quickly hopped in Broadaway’s seat and started to navigate the Explorer out of the Starbase.

The Explorer had been hijacked.



USS Stealthlon, NCC-2034
21:29 SET
2185

Admiral Blackbird was minding his own business when the Explorer unexpectedly fired on his ship.
“What’s going on!” cried Cain, just as shocked as Blackbird was.  “What do they think they’re doing?” 

Another shot rocked the great ship, causing Blackbird to lose his footing.  “Shields!” he barked, scrambling to his feet.  “Do not return fire!”


The bay doors had opened and the Explorer was making its way out into the open space when their impromptu attack came.  Deep in UNSF space and under a warm blanket of security, the Admiral had been caught with his pants down. 

The Stealthlon had been attached to moorings as any spaceship was when in a starbase to keep stationary.  Now, they had been torn free of the moorings on their port side, causing the ship to list.  As the bay doors started their automatic resealing sequence, Blackbird caught a glimpse of the Explorer gaining speed.

“I knew it!” growled Cain.  “I knew he was up to something!  He smiles in our faces while he makes his own plans...he’s Imperial!  He’s been Imperial the whole time, I’m willing to bet.”

“At ease Commodore,” said Blackbird.  “Tell Space Control to reopen the doors so we can catch up with the Explorer.”

“And put a shell through their translight engines,” Cain muttered.

Blackbird needn’t have given the order.  Ordese, anticipating it, had already set to work on a program to reopen the doors without having to get the order from Space Control.  The longer it took, the less likely it would be to find the seemingly rebel ship.

The doors opened again, and the Stealthlon broke away from the remainder of its moorings to give chase to the new internal threat that had shown itself.
***