Mission Specialist Cheryl Tripes looks at each of the men, wide eyed, “So what do we do?”
Corvin offered a hard swallow, as his breath came short. He shook his head, then shrugged his shoulders.
How do you deal with something like this?
His training kicked in.
“Kill the ion drive. The last thing we need is stress buckling the fuselage,” he said.
“Roger that; I’ll be aft!” Tripes pushed herself to the rear of the ship.
“I’ll go with you!” Tom Aronson hurried after her.
The Icarus gave another shudder as the alien vessel creaked along side. Tyler Hanson almost giggled,
“I guess that leaves you and me to greet ET, huh?!”
Herb nodded, “Do you have your side-arm?”
“Are you kidding? I’m a marine, I sleep with the goddamned thing!” Captain Tyler Hanson showed off his Glock 45.
“Ziggy,” Herb Corvin called over comms.
“Yo!”
“Drive is going offline. Secure your post and get your ass down here!”
“On my way,”
There came a rap at the outer-hatch and Herb Corvin reached for the lock.
“Jesus, this is crazy!”