The
door chime to my ready room tinkled softly.
I looked up from the engine update I had been reading.
"Come,"
I called, and the door slid open to reveal Jamie. I smiled. "Doc, what can I do for you?"
But
Jamie looked troubled. She handed me a PADD,
"Here are the results from that autopsy I ran on one of the Enterprise's crewmen."
I
slowly took the card from her and studied it carefully, "Yes," I allowed,
though not understanding a word of it. "What is your point?"
"The
point is," she announced, taking the
PADD from my outstretched hand, "that according to this autopsy, and the body's
rate of decay, this man has been dead for--not five hours, not five days--but
for five years."
"Five
years?" I repeated skeptically. "How is that possible?"
Jamie
shook her head, "It shouldn't be... unless it's some kind of after effect
obtained from direct contact with a Tregonian beam weapon or something. I'm going to run some additional tests to
see if I can come up with something concrete."
"Make
it so, Doctor. I want to see some
tangible results. In fact," I started,
"I want--"
I was
cut off by Paul's voice coming over the line, "Captain to the bridge," he
called.
I
turned to Jamie, "I'm sorry, but we'll have to continue trhis converstation
another time. Please keep me posted on
your progress."
"Sir,"
Paul said as I slid down in my seat in-between himself and Julie. "We just got
a communication from Mr. Doyle down in engineering. The warp engines are tested and ready."
"Thank
you, Commander," I paused and took in the entire bridge. "Status?"
"Shields
are at eighty percent and holding, sir," Carl reported. "Weapons are limited,
but operative."
"Sensors
are now operating at optimum efficiency," Raseen stated.
"Impulse power at... ninety
percent, and warp power is completely restored," Feral spoke at last.
"Commander?"
I turned to my number one.
"Aye,
sir," Paul responded, trying to mask his pleasure in giving the next order.
"Computer, search and reserve file Jat'Naii."
"Working,"
the female voice reported. "Found: file 1019 Jat'Naii."
"Initiate,
authorization: Plack, beta five Cantar."
"Authorization
recognized," the computer conceded. "Activating sequence now."
The
lights dimmed. Plin turned around,
"What was that?"
"Cloaking
device activated," the Computer answered Raseen's question for me.
Raseen
cracked a smile, "Leave it to old Watson to think of something like this. I always knew he was a bit paranoid."
In
response, I smiled a tight smile of my own, "Take us out, Ms. Plin, heading:
061 mark 2. And by the end of this war,
you may learn to see Admiral Watson in a different light."
Plin,
still grinning, answered with an affirmative, "Aye, sir. But do you think it's wise to leap right
back into the fray so soon?"
"Ms.
Plin," Paul put in plainly, "judging from the handiness with which these
Tregonians dispatched with the Enterprise,
if we don't rejoin the fight soon, there might not be anything to go back to..."
Blue
energy swirled around the Odyssey in
shifting, haphazard patterns. Invisible
drops of "water" impacted the colored sides of the long blue tunnel we were
presently engulfed in, creating ripples that extended off into infinity. The Bajorans called this region of space the
Celestial Temple, or the Temple of the Prophets. But to Humans it had no real religious value. Rather, we saw it plainly as a means of
transportation from the still mysterious Gamma Quadrant to the colonized,
Federation Alpha Quadrant.
Suddenly,
we were in normal space again, and the Temple gates had closed behind us.
I shook
my head to clear the mild feeling of distortion always associated with
traveling through trans-space, "Plin... get DS9 on screen, and open a channel
directly to Captain Sisko. I need to
know the status of the Ninth Fleet and how the first wave-front faired."
"Captain,"
Raseen began, "I think you should take a look at this," and with a few pressed
keys, Plin transferred the image displayed on her console to the main viewer.
In
response there were several gasps, and a few uttered curses. I, myself, sat in silence, my voice stolen
from me by the very intensity of the scene.
Deep
Space Nine was in ruins.
The
command area had collapsed in on itself, and upper pylon two was gone. All three of the lower pylons were also
damaged. The station was obviously
beyond repair and uninhabitable.
"The
battle is not going well," Julie said plaintively.
"But if
this happened to DS9," Benson began, "then what happened to Ninth Fleet?"
"The
real question is," Paul stated, "if this happened to DS9, and Ninth fleet is
either defeated or subdued, then..."
"Ms.
Plin," I broke in, my finger tips digging tensely into the rests of my chair,
"set course for earth... maximum warp!"
"Coming
up on earth," Plin whispered, her voice cracking.
"Drop
to impulse on my mark," I replied in the same somber tone. I mentally counted the light years. "Mark."
And the
Odyssey was back in Eienstinian
space.
"Captain!"
The voice of my tactical officer cut through my thoughts. "We're on a collision
course with some space debris," Benson squinted at his read outs. "But I can't
quite make out what it is."
"Ms.
Plin, plot a course around the object.
And Mr. Hail," I turned in my seat," get it on screen."
The viewer
blinked on. Literally millions of rock
fragments were floating around aimlessly--colliding with each other, roaming
free. And they were all converging in
one place, "Hail," I said slowly, "get me the coordinates of the debris point
of convergence."
"Yes,
sir... heading 001 mark 1, sir."
Paul
tore his eyes from the display in horror, "Those are the exact coordinates for
earth..."
I
turned to stare again at the swirling debris and the still pulsating core of
our once-great planet, thought of all the billions of lives lost... and wept
openly.
"...
and we've discovered wreckage from the
Drake, the Penelope, the Constellation, the LaSalle, and the Zhukov still
in a loose orbit of what's left of earth," Paul reported wearily. They were all in pretty bad shape, save for
the Penelope, which was still whole
enough to be boarded," he caught my look. "The entire crew was dead, sir, but
Jamie's brought another body back so she can compare autopsy results from the Enterprise crewman's with this one."
I sighed,
"Is that all you have to report, Commander?"
I sat back in my chair behind my desk.
"One
more thing, sir," Paul held up his hand, then abruptly lowered it to straighten
his uniform. "I sent out an encoded distress call on all Federation frequencies...
but so far, there has been no answer.
May I suggest a course of action?"
"Of
course, Mr. Plack," I allowed freely. "I'm always grateful for imput."
He
nodded, "Yes, sir. Six years ago,
myself and Lieutenant Commander Data had started working on a way to preserve a
human brain in a mechanical body. He
saw it as a doorway to immortality for us organics. After the passing of his 'father,' Doctor Soong in 2366, it
became a goal for him to reach before all of his friends died."
"Yes,"
I said. I was aware of that much. "But
what does Mr. Data have to do with us?"
Paul
shook his head, "Not Mr. Data, sir. The
lab where we worked. It's stationed in a very insignificant
corner of space: the Rivilian system. It's
a rather heavily shielded enclosure on the small moon of Vigeria," he paused
for breath. "No one would ever think of searching the Rivilian system,
Captain. I think it would be a perfect
fall-back location."
I
slowly drummed my fingers on my desk, deep in thought, "Yes. Yes, your suggestion is sound,
Commander. Very well," I stood. "We
will hold our present position for another hour or so, and then set course for
the Rivilian system. Inform the senior
staff that there will be a briefing in the observation lounge at 2000 hours."
"Aye,
sir."
"The
Rivilian system," Paul said matter-of-factly, indicating the wall display in
the observation lounge. "Three planets orbiting a G-class star," the image of
the system faded away, and was replaced by a likeness of a much smaller planet.
"The second planet's moon, Vigeria. The
lab I mentioned earlier is located on the dark side of the moon, and is
shielded from most types of sensor sweeps by the moon's metallic atmosphere. This will be our base of operations. From there we will launch only smaller
vehicles to search out other humanoid life such as us, and begin plans for some
kind of counter strike against the Tregonians."
"And
from some of the Tregonian transmissions we picked up just a few moments ago, the
situation looks pretty grim," Plin frowned, and pushed some panels on the
glossy conference table. "Listen to this."
There
was a short burst of static, and then an unfamiliar voice came on-line,
"Darvonchi, this is Fleet Maska Gorand.
Report destruction of humanoids that refer to themselves as
Klingons. Their planet, Quo'nos, is ruins in. They conceitedly called themselves
Empire. Now we are only the
Empire! Pathetic fools! Long live Emperor Faversa! Gorand out."
"The
lists of conquests are endless," Plin choked out.
"This
is a dark time for the Alpha Quadrant," Dan agreed quietly.
I
grimaced, "Anything else to report?"
Jamie
nodded, "Yes, sir. I have the results
of those autopsies, and I've come to a very interesting conclusion," she stood and
walked up to the main display. She
quickly up-linked her PADD to it, and keyed on the screen. Two whirling strands of DNA appeared in
macro-vision. "The first strand is a sample I've taken from one of our own
dead, one of the people we lost in battle.
The second strand is a sample I've taken from one of the Enterprise's crew members. Now take note, if you would, of the
difference in cellular decay."
Julie
stared at the screen, "The first strand in considerably more complete."
Jamie
nodded, "Exactly. The second strand is
four or five years into it's decay cycle.
But these two crewmen were supposedly to have been killed at
approximately the same time. A sample
from the Penelope's dead helmsmen is
also five years into its cycle," she paused to look at me. "We're the anomaly
here, Captain."
"Hmmm,
very interesting, Doctor," I pondered. "I would immediately blame the effect on
the Badlands, except for the fact that the Enterprise
was present in the Gamma Quadrant as
well. Still... Sorry, Commander," I
looked up abruptly, "but it looks like we'll have to postpone our trip to
Vigeria. There are some things I'd like
to investigate in the Badlands first."
"Yes,
sir," Paul responded easily.
"Very
good, then," I stood. "Plin, prepare the Odyssey
for warp, and plot a course for the Gamma Quadrant."
"Aye,
sir."
"Dismissed."
Captain's
Log Stardate: 567199.5: We have been dogmatically
searching the Badlands for any answers whatsoever for the past five hours. So far our search has uncovered nothing of
consequence. The Tregonian's
W-Transmission is still present, and as threatening as ever. We can only hope and pray that no ships
decide to come through it, due to the fact that the electromagnetic
interference generated by the fiery plasma of the Badlands renders our cloaking
device inoperative.
I
never thought I'd see the day the Federation crumbled, never thought my
grandchildren would see it. And now,
gazing upon all the ruins and wreckage of a once-great civilization--one that I
had spent my entire life building and shaping--I feel a sadness like no
other... And I know for certain that I will do all that is in my power to bring
it back.
"Captain!"
Plin piped up abruptly. "We're getting
some strange readings from the W-T!" She turned around, and fear gripped me.
"It's becoming stable, sir... a ship is coming through."
I dug
my fingers deeply into the armrests of my chair as I felt all eyes on the
bridge focus on me. "Acknowledged, Ms. Plin," I grimaced. We were in no condition for a fight. Then
inspiration hit me, "Computer," I called out, "shut down all ships functions
except for life support and minimal sensors, authorization: Schwartz, omega
three Gibson."
"Working,"
the computer droned softly. "All systems shut down."
There
was a thrumming as all the computers shut down, and the lights dimmed. I raised my eyes from my little panel on the
side of my chair and sensed everyone was still staring at me.
"With
all due respect, sir," Benson started tensely from tactical, "I am not sure
that was the wisest course of action.
We are now completely vulnerable to the Tregonian's attack. We don't even have partial shields."
"Shhh,"
I waved a hand in the lieutenant's direction. "They might hear you."
"What?"
Benson inquired in an irked tone. "Captain, this is absurd."
This
time it was Paul who addressed Carl, "Shhh," he mimicked my posture. "When you
play dead, it's a good idea to keep quiet as well."
"What's
the status of the Tregonian vessel, Ms Plin?" I asked in a low voice.
"It's
seen us, sir," Plin replied nervously. "It's heading in our direction... now
it's scanning us."
"The
moment of truth," Julie muttered under her breath.
"It's
locked onto our life support generator, Captain, and they're tracing it to the
sensor array." Plin frantically pushed keys on her console. "They're shutting
down their array and powering up weapons!"
"They
know we're still operational!" Benson cried.
"Computer,
reactivate the main computer! Get
everything back on-line! Shields
up! Go to red alert!" Red light filled
the bridge. "Weapon's status Mr. Benson?"
"Phasers,
quantum torpedoes are on line, sir, but the crest is still down. Shields at 60%!"
"Computer,"
Paul said, "reroute all weapons functions from the battle bridge to the main
bridge!"
"Mr.
Doyle," I turned around to face Dan at science 1, "I want you down in
engineering."
"Aye,
sir," Dan said and promptly left the bridge.
"Hail,"
I swiveled towards the lieutenant at the Conn, "get down to the hanger deck and
scramble all remaining fighters--grab doctors to fly them if need be."
"Yes,
sir."
"Mr.
Benson," I narrowed my eyes, "fire."
"With
pleasure, sir."
The
ship rocked slightly as twin beams of energy lanced out and struck the
Scavenger ship dead center. It's
shields fizzled into existence at least a second after our phasers had struck
home. Obviously they had not been
expecting much resistance.
Suddenly
they let loose with three beams of greenish liquid fire. Two of the three collided with our shields,
while the third caught the edge and ricocheted off into space.
"Damage
report?" I inquired.
"Minimal
damage to the hull," Benson replied, "but shields are at fifty percent."
Paul
stood from his chair, "Prepare to fire quantum torpedoes," he ordered.
"Aye,
sir," Benson keyed in the proper sequence.
"Fire,"
I brought my hand down to emphasize the instruction.
Five
crackling orbs of energy shot from our forward torpedo launcher and slammed
into the enemy vessel.
"It
didn't even penetrate their shields," Plin reported.
As
Raseen spoke I saw our few remaining fighters converge on the Scavenger. "Schwartz to fighter wing," I transmitted.
"Hail, come in."
"Wing
leader here, sir," came the staticy reply. "Awaiting orders."
I stood
and walked towards the view screen, "Focus your attack on their stern,
Lieutenant--I want you to try and knock out their shield generator."
"Aye,
sir," there was a pause. "Die all, die merrily, Captain."
The channel was cut as Hail
signed off.
Our
ship shook as it was again impacted by deadly bolts of energy. I took a step backward to brace myself for
the next barrage.
"Shields
are down to fifteen percent, Captain,
and there are reports of a hull breach on deck twelve!"
"Fire our
remaining torpedoes, Mr. Benson!" I commanded over the screaming alarms.
"Pattern: Epsilon!"
On my
mark, the six remaining torpedoes exited their tubes and took on the specified
attack pattern. One by one, they
ravaged our opponent's shields, each time aiming for a different vital system.
"Status
of the enemy vessel?" Paul's voice cut through the smoke and red light.
Plin
turned around slowly, as if in a daze, "Captain," she whispered. "The Tregonian
ship is down--it's dead in space, sir."
"What?"
I narrowed my eyes unbelieveingly.
"Stand
down from red alert," Paul instructed uncertainly. The alarms shut off.
"Are
you sure of that, Ms. Plin?"
"Positive,
sir," she replied haltingly. "Our sensors show intensive damage to the stern,
no life signs... and sensors are operating well within established
perimeters."
"Counselor?" I turned to my left.
Julie
shook her head, "No, Captain--I do not sense any presence at all on the
vessel. Though it still could be a
trap," she added.
I
frowned, "Yes, we must entertain all possibilities... but I think that this is
too good an opportunity to pass up. A
Tregonian ship has never been studied from the inside out. I think we might be able to learn something
about our adversary from all of this.
Mr. Plack," I addressed Paul, "I'd like you to assemble an away team and
beam over to the Tregonian ship. See if
you can ascertain any weaknesses in their ship's construction."
"Yes, sir," Paul replied readily. "Benson,
Plin, you're with me. Mr. Doyle?" Paul
called.
"Yes,
sir, I've been monitoring the conversation from down here," Dan responded
immediately. "I'll meet you in transporter room three."
Paul
felt the familiar tingle of excitement as he stepped onto the transporter
pad. Dan, Raseen, and Carl stepped up
beside him.
"I'll
be keeping a continuous lock on you during your entire visit 'next door,'" the
blond haired transporter chief said, keying in the correct sequence. "The
Captain wants to be able to bring you back at a moments notice."
"Very
good, Chief," Paul allowed, and adjusted his phaser belt. "Energize."
Suddenly
the room was filled with the melodies of what seemed like thousands of bell
chimes. Paul closed his eyes against
the assault of pulsating colors swimming around the interior of the matter
stream. And then, the whistling
harmonics ceased, and the colors vanished.
The
away team now found themselves bathed in flickering green light. Smoke was pouring out of various vents
making it difficult to see.
"Spread
out," Paul started. "See if you can find an operational console--or any kind of
schematic that might help us find our way around," he paused to switch on his
wrist light. "I had the chief beam us to the most prominent site of transwarp
activity, so we should be near the Scavenger's main engineering. Let's move."
The
party split up, each member going in a different direction.
Dan
passed a long line of engineering panels, going over each of them for signs of
life.
Finally
he discovered one that still glowed faintly.
"Commander,"
he called, "come take a look at this."
"What
is it, Mr. Doyle?" Paul strode through the haze to where Dan was standing.
"I
think I've found a station that's still operational," the screen he gestured to
was covered with literally hundreds of tiny scribblings. "Though I can't even
begin to guess what all of these symbols could mean."
"Sir,"
the voice of Plin cut across the room. "I've found a body--presumably
Tregonian."
"Get to
work on deciphering their code, Mr. Doyle," Paul instructed, and when Dan nodded,
went over to join Plin.
"Vital
signs are nil, Commander," Raseen stated when Paul knelt beside her. "It's
dead."
Paul
stared into the cream-colored face of one of the Federation's conquers, and a
strange primal fear came over him. It
was a barbaric face, with many more ridges then even a Klingon's. It had a total of three fingers on each
hand, and wore a molded body suit. It
had no hair of any kind; its violet eyes were glazed over in death.
Hmmm,
Dan frowned and bent closer to the display.
The screen had changed color.
Paul
looked from the alien to Plin, and back again, "Was it a male or a female?"
"Male,
I think," Plin responded, consulting her tricorder. "The tricorder's having a
hard time distinguishing organs of any sort.
I'm not reading any heart, lungs, or liver. I can't even assess how he died."
The
minute characters on the dim display screen were moving. Dan blinked to clear his vision. He began randomly pushing keys, trying to
get a reaction, "Commander! Something's
coming on-line."
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Paul
stood.
"I
don't know, sir, but I think we should--" Dan was cut off as the lights came on
with a thrumming sound. Every display
along the four walls followed suit.
"Captain!"
The ensign manning Raseen's station announced. "The Tregonian vessel is coming
back on-line!"
"What?"
I rose from my seat, and felt Julie move to my side.
"The
ship is powering up it's main computer core!" The young ensign's eyes widened.
"The Tregonian ship is raising it's shields!"
The
Tregonian warrior between Paul and Raseen suddenly sat up, discarding death as
if it were no more then a garment. Plin
let out a piercing scream.
"Bridge
to transporter room three!" I cried. "Get them out of there!"
"Yes,
sir," the chief replied. "Energizing."
I
waited for a moment, and only the soft harmonics of transportation came over
the channel.
"Report,
chief," I demanded sharply.
It was
Daniel who answered, "We're back, sir.
Everyone made it..." he faltered.
Julie moved closer to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, suspense
obviously coursing through her veins. "Everyone but the Commander, sir."
I
grimaced; ran a hand through my hair, "Very well, Mr. Doyle. Please return to the bridge," I turned to
face the view screen, gently removing Julie's hand. "Ensign Carlosin," I spoke
quietly, an undertone of menace creeping into my voice. "Hail the enemy
vessel."
"Aye,
sir," the ensign replied; he too had taken notice of the somber attitude that
had descended on the bridge, for he spoke in little more then a whisper.
"Channel open."
"Scavenger
vessel," I began, putting all of my remaining pride and dignity into my voice.
"This is Captain Peter Schwartz of the Federation starship Odyssey. One of our people
was trapped on your ship when you unexpectedly reinstated your shields," I
decided to put all my cards on the table. "We ask that you return our crew
member, and let us go in peace. We are
but one defenseless ship, and could not possibly prove a threat to you or your
armada."
The
main view screen sprung to life just as the away team returned to the
bridge. Seated facing the screen was a
short, stubby alien. Flanking his
command chair were two hulking figures, each with body armor, and ridged
faces. All three pairs of violet alien
eyes were locked on me.
"Starship
Odyssey: I am Captain D'virian of the
Bird that Hunts in the Night," the
middle humanoid responded in perfect English. "It is a fact that we do indeed
have your crew member. But we are
unwilling to conform to your terms--he was, after all, a trespasser on our
ship. However," he held up his
three-fingered hand to stop any protests. "Your man is still alive, and we may
be willing to return him to you."
"But..."
I prompted.
"But, in
return, I want your complete and utter submission. You will become our servants, and your ship will be assimilated into our own fleet," the
alien face stayed placid, but the strange shiny implant on it's head sparkled
with satisfaction.
Dan
stepped forward, "How do we know he's really still alive?"
"A fair
question," the Tregonian turned to one of the big humanoids on the left side of
him. "Bring in the Starfleet," the bigger Tregonian grinned savagely and strode
off-screen
A few
moments later he returned with Paul, struggling against his restraining cuffs.
"Captain,"
he said as soon as he saw me. "Don't listen to them. Take the Odyssey and
try and revive the Federation," I frowned a bit at the histrionic drama he was
throwing in to the speech, but continued to listen. "You must stand like
Dangara at Tangren. You need to
remember Ravank at Bavenaria. Or
Triskal at--" he was cut off by the large Tregonian.
"No
more talk, Starfleet," he rumbled. "Back to holding cell."
"Remember,
Captain!"
I frowned
again, contemplating my first officer's monologue.
Meanwhile,
the smooth-skinned Tregonian had turned back to me, "You have one Terran hour
to make your decision. Our word is our
bond, Captain--you keep your end of the bargain, and we will most certainly
keep ours," he concluded. The channel
was severed.
"Thank
you, and come again," I heard Benson mumble under his breath.
I let
out a large breath of air and sat down,
"Your impression, Counselor?"
"I find
the Tregonian species very intriguing, Captain," she replied slowly. "From the
larger Tregonians, I felt only hate; barbarism. But from the smaller one, only intelligence and regalness," she
closed her eyes, then opened them, rubbing her temples. "I also noticed
unveiled surprise emanating from each of them when you announced that we were
of the Federation."
"Yes,"
I sat back. "Yes, I took note of their astonishment as well. And what would you expect? Hmph.
All this was just as anticipated.
But what of our own Mr. Plack's behavior?"
"I
found it decidedly... odd," Julie admitted. "Though I believe that his
intentions were not to encourage us, but to transmit a message of some sort."
Dan
stepped down from to the command deck, "Any idea what kind of message?" He
inquired.
The
Counselor shook her head firmly, "No, his main intendment was hidden, even from
me."
Plin
turned to me from beside Paul's chair, "Mr. Plack made distinct references to
several famous Klingon conquests."
"Do you
remember anything specific or unusual about them?"
Plin
frowned, deep in thought, "No, sir, I'm sorry, the academy is a good many years
behind me. But I'm sure they would be
in the ship's library."
"Very
good, Lieutenant," I said easily. "You and Mr. Doyle will access the correct
files and report to me with your conclusion as soon as possible," I paused on
my way to the door. "I'll be in my ready room."