"Yes?" I asked as I stepped out of the turbolift.
"We detected a run-about from Starbase 236 on an intercept course."
"ETA?" I asked.
The helmsman, Wil Riker, answered. "Two hours."
Admiral Kiler looked at me. "Do we have any shields or weapons?"
I glanced at the engineering console on the bridge. "We have a few photon torpedoes, but both shields and phasers are off-line."
Admiral Kiler nodded, understanding. Why couldn't Starbase 236 had the flagship docked there instead of a broken down medical ship?
Well, I returned to engineering, trying to get the shields on-line. I tried a few tricks, played around with them for a few minutes, fixing the damaged circuitry. Once I got them functioning, I tried to reinforce them with the power from the non-essential systems (most of which weren't working anyway).
Then I started to work on the phasers. They were stubborn. Nothing I did would get them to work. I finally called to the bridge and told Admiral Kiler.
"We'll do with what we can. The runabout itself doesn't present any danger to us, of course, but I have a feeling that we'll going to come face-to-face with a larger ship than that."
"What?" I exclaimed, incredulous. I had worked hard so we would be ready to face a ship that Kiler now said wouldn't be a threat. Granted, a runabout isn't a great danger in normal circumstances. But it did have warp, weapons, and shields, and that was enough. It struck me as a major threat, especially considering the assassin-machine that drove it.
"Come to the bridge, Lieutenant Commander, and see what I mean."
Well, I headed for the turbolift to go to the bridge, still not having any idea what she had in mind.
Once I walked onto the bridge, Admiral Kiler asked Wil for our ETA.
"Two minutes."
"Julian, transmit the sequence seven-alpha-twelve-nine-omega-six directly to the runabout's main computer."
The cadet nodded at the communications station and laid in the commands.
"Good. Now transmit the following instructions: Lower shields, take phasers off-line."
Julian did so.
I watched in amazement as the ship in front us followed the admiral's commands.
Kiler turned to Riker. "Wil, lock onto the runabout and fire a photon torpedo. I'm not taking any more chances with that creature."
One of the few photon torpedoes we had was launched out of the ship and came in contact with the assassin's runabout. It immediately disintegrated in the antimatter explosion.
However, we were not as lucky as we thought.
Julian called out, "Admiral, she beamed on to our ship!"
The admiral turned and looked at him, incredulously. "Through our shields?"
I turned to the nearby ops console and made a few calculations. "I'm not sure how she did it. I am picking up energy disturbances, some type of interference pattern. She must have punched through with whatever sophisticated personal transporter device she has integrated in her bioneural circuitry."
Kiler sighed. "However she did, we have to get away. Are the transporters functioning?"
I checked the engineering console. "Aye, Admiral."
"Julian," asked Kiler, "where is she?"
"Deck Three," he promptly answered.
She turned to me. "Kathryn, beam us directly to the battle bridge. Everybody, prepare for saucer separation."
The Chapel was not as old a ship as the damage done to her would suggest. It was actually a state-of-the-art, experimental medical ship designed to deliver medical aid to the worlds on the Cardassian border. The ship was attacked by the Cardassians and thus suffered heavy casualties. Such an attack was anticipated, however, and the Chapel was equipped with some of the best combat equipment available, including a separable saucer section, one of the innovations that will be included in the proposed Galaxy-class starship, a new line that will be coming out in about three years.
I pushed the controls on my console, and the bridge immediately dissolved around us as it was replaced by the dimly-lit battle bridge.
"Helm, full speed!" called out the admiral. "Lieutenant Commander Janeway. . . ."
"I'm on it," I said, already She didn't have to tell me what to do—it was obvious. The problem was, I only had a few seconds to do it. "Enhancing shields to compensate for the interference patterns. She won't be able to pull that trick again."
The saucer section of the Chapel became smaller and smaller as we moved away from it. Admiral Kiler didn't waste time or photon torpedoes destroying it—the abomination could probably survive in cold vacuum.
It seemed we would continue our game of cat-and-mouse indefinitely.
Someone, however, had other ideas.
The ops console beeped and I checked the readings. "I'm picking up massive chronoton readings," I reported. "Space-time distortions as well."
"Onscreen," was the admiral's reply. The blur of the anomaly grew distinct and opaque, sort of like a warbird or bird-of-prey uncloaking. However, the ship didn't stay still, but instead shot forward at an approximate speed of Warp 9.999—much closer to Warp 10 than any starship has gone since they revised the warp charts. The ship slowed to impulse only in a matter of seconds, an impressive feat.
The ship itself looked a little like a sort of Orion freighter. However, the readings I was getting indicated that someone had modified it extensively—and probably in a short period of time. Whoever had done the job was in a hurry to get his or her job done.
"We're being hailed," called out Cadet Bashir.
"Onscreen," ordered the admiral, but in desperation. She didn't seem to think whoever was in that ship would listen to reason. I had to agree, but the reasoning was sound. She didn't have to have the sophisticated readings in front of me to know that any ship with a temporal drive would probably have phasers powerful enough to blow us out of space then and there.
On the screen, there was a sort of Orion bridge. Sitting forwards the front in what I took to be a command seat was an older man wearing an unfamiliar uniform. I took it to be a future version of the Starfleet uniform, but even the delta was missing.
"I am Captain Braxton," he told us, "former commander of the timeship Relativity. Deliver Janeway to me and I will leave your ship unharmed."
I think this was the first and only time Kiler actually considered sacrificing me. After all, it was not good command policy to risk several officers' lives to save one. On the other hand, a commander never abandons a crewmember. I saw all of the admiral's training and experience flash through her eyes as she made a decision.
"If Janeway is so important to you, I can only assume that she's going to do something important to make such a powerful enemy. I can't afford to sacrifice the time line."
"What does the time line matter to you?" asked Braxton. "Maybe she will save thousands of lives—or maybe she will destroy billions. Either way, it's all pre-determined. Don't you want to write your own future? Don't you want to be free?"
"Not if means destroying thousands of potential lives."
"And if I tell you that otherwise this is your last day on this plane?"
This wasn't an idle threat. Braxton was attempting to predict the future—our future. But to him, it was all ancient history. In all likelihood, very ancient history.
"Then I'll say," answered Kiler, "that I still have a duty as a Starfleet officer—a duty you have abrogated, Captain. As a superior officer, I order you to stand down. If you refuse, then I don't plan on going to hell without taking you with me."
Bold words from someone ordained to die. Of course, there always was the chance Braxton was bluffing—but I didn't think he was. I don't think Kiler thought so, either.
"You have five minutes to make your decision, Admiral."
"End transmission," Kiler said, then collapsed in the captain's chair. "I'm a doctor, not a damnèd battle captain." She looked up at us, though, and I saw a new determination etch itself onto her face. We were her crew, and she would risk life and limb to protect us. Her life for her ship's, and all that.
Determination alone, however, would not save the day. "Recommendations?" she asked.
The bridge was quiet for a second, then I spoke up. "There's a Class E nebula about half a minute from here at warp four. If we enter, he wouldn't be able to follow us in—the high level of kytian particles would interfere with his temporal core."
"Can we do it?" she asked.
"The shields would hold for about an hour and a half, if that's what you mean. We'd get rocked around a bit, though."
Kiler turned to Riker. "I can keep control of the helm," he told her. "But I'm not making any promises we'll get through in one piece."
"If we can keep away from them for even a few minutes," said Kiler, "maybe we can devise a strategy. Helm, make it so."
Riker punched in the coordinates and went flying torward the nebula. Braxton, however, wasn't willing to let us escape. The Orion timeship was keeping pace with us. They fired.
I could tell by my readings that the phaser blast was only a fraction of what they were capable. Nonetheless, its effect on the shields was phenomenal. "Shield integrity down to 11%," I reported. A few seconds later, the front shields came in contact with the nebula. They held, but the ship shuddered at the collision.
Riker adjusted a few controls, and we continued our path into the nebula. The ship's shuddering continued to grow more and more distinct as they rocked the ship more greatly than the inertial dampers could compensate.
I worked the scanners, helping Riker to navigate through the nebula. "Watch out for that flare!" I warned him, but it was too late. It hit us squarely in our port shields.
The ship went flying through the nebula, out of control. "Inertial dampers, off-line," I reported, as Riker held onto his console, trying to regain control of the ship. The admiral flew into the viewscreen as the ship quickly jerked from one direction to another.
Soon, Riker had regained control of the ship, and we came to a rest. Julian slowly and deliberately got up and walked towards the admiral, then passed his medical tricorder over her. "She's dead," he reported.
I wondered if this was the first time the cadet had seen somebody die. He had learned about death in his medical classes, of course, but I wondered if they could really prepare a student to see his mentor die before his eyes.
I worked to get the inertial dampers on-line. Without them, I was getting space sick. (Of course, practically everyone gets spacesickness when the dampers aren't working correctly. I can proudly say I never get space sick under normal conditions.) I managed to get them back on-line using the engineering console, but I couldn't get them properly aligned without returning to engineering.
With the admiral dead, that put Riker in charge. While he was the same rank as me, he had been a lieutenant commander longer than just a few days. Also, his new assignment, the U.S.S. MacArthur, was a ship tactically superior to the Socrates, my assignment. On top of all that, he was the only command officer on the ship. He outranked me in every way but rank. I looked at him.
I remembered a long time ago, when we were both at the Academy, I had been on a blind date with the man. He conceded his one wish—to captain a starship.
"Well, Wil," I said, "you beat Jim Kirk. You're now the captain of the U.S.S. Chapel"
He nodded, resignedly. "Kathryn," he told me, "get down in engineering. Find a way to beat these guys—and fix those dampers before I lose my lunch."
I nodded, and headed for the turbolift.