Fatal Containment

Fatal Containment - Chapter 1

As the compartment temperature returned to normal, the frosty mist began to vanish as it drizzled down on the people and equipment in the compartment.

"I'll adjust the duty roster to keep her extra busy for the next several days to help her better use her free time," Connor said, as he folded his arms against the chill remaining in the cold air. "But I must admit, she planned and executed her attack quite well. She wasn't even here to make the temperature drop."

"Yes, sir. She's a clever one that's for sure," Trevor shook his head and smiled. "It's just too bad she's not an engineering rating."

Connor allowed a slight chuckle to escape his otherwise stoic composure. "You must've really put a bee in her hat to get this kind of premeditated retaliation."

"Oh, come on. Everyone learns about cabin-pranks when they come aboard; it's a rite of passage," said Trevor. "I understand yours was legendary."

Connor shot him a withering look. "And it will remain a closed subject."

Trevor hid his grin, but everyone aboard knew about his ingenious prank. Connor just didn't want to hear about it just now.

He turned to go. "As soon as the lieutenant has returned your engineering bay to ship shape, you can release her back to her quarters. We have a briefing at 0600 tomorrow."

* * *

Early the next morning, a very tired-looking Cheryl Kinson, the first officer, was in attendance for the briefing. She focused on her data pad as the other officers filed in. No one mentioned the state of the engineering bay.

Captain Owen Cantrell took his usual seat at the head of the conference table. Connor retasked the monitor, which had been showing the stars outside the ship. The star field vanished, being replaced with pictures of four members of a science team.

"We've been diverted from our usual assignment in Task Force 36 to pick up Dr. Maxim van Helm's biogenetics team, along with some resupply items for the fleet," Connor stated.

Captain Cantrell surveyed his officers before speaking. "Dr. van Helm's team is part of a classified imperial communication effort known as Project Containment. In essence, van Helm's team may have discovered a way to tap latent telepathy in humans and use it to amplify and project messages across the galaxy. If he is successful, it would provide us with a means to instantly coordinate our forces across the galaxy using a technology that is virtually undetectable and impossible to intercept. Our job is to transport van Helm and his team to a secure base in the Mutara system so he can complete his work without alerting certain rebel elements who might wish to exploit his technology for use against the empire."

He nodded to Trevor. He had delivered the executive summary and now left it to his engineer, who smoothly picked up the conversation and began giving the technical details.

"Dr. van Helm is the team's biologist and a leader in the field of cerebral neuroscience." Trevor pointed to the next person in the slide. "Beside him is Tyrell Sanders, their nanosciences expert."

Everyone looked either at the images on the screen or at the same image repeated on the screens of their data viewers. Sanders' tall frame, boyish face, and unruly red hair gave him a distinctive towering presence among the team. Maxim van Helm was no less commanding with his jet-black hair, bushy gray beard and eyebrows, and a wizardly scowl.

"To his left," Trevor continued, indicating the tall brunette, "is Candice Picoult. She's the odd one out in that she's reportedly one of the empire's only living precogs."

"She's a what?" Connor's confusion was plainly on his face.

"Precognition is a special case within parapsychology where the subject can either see or influence future events," Cheryl said before Trevor could answer. "In the case of Dr. Picoult, she is reported to have," Cheryl paused for a heartbeat to find the right wording, "visions of future events before they happen. But it should be noted that not all of her colleagues believe in her abilities."