Chapter Eleven: Hel's Gate

Author's Note: First off, that's not a misspelling. It's supposed to be with one L only—I went and checked, and then reread the whole book, Dujonian's Hoard, anyway. I hope no one's read it (unlikely) because I'm taking creative license again.

Disclaimer: Don't bother. I'm broke, as usual. Hopefully I'll get some money eventually, though I'll probably just spend it on books, but it won't be worth suing me over.

ON WITH THE SHOW!

Mordecai gasped with shock and fear, stumbling over his words as his feet scrabbled wildly and futilely. "How…who…what?"

"Did your master send you here unwarned?" Kurama half-hissed, looking skeptical. He released the Orion's collar, but the whip he'd created remained, pinioning his arms and torso. "I doubt it. By now, Nabuhari must have told the galaxy that we've shown our faces again."

The Orion appeared to put two and two together. "He said, two youkai—you?" With knowledge, his bravado returned, looking arrogantly at Kurama despite the whip binding him and the pair of phasers that Faber and Shail had drawn on him. "I had heard something to that effect. Two thieves of the Demon World, hiding from those they've wronged and taking their crimes to the spaceways. Actually, some of the stuff I heard was a little more interesting than that. Where's your pet?"

The hiss of a sword being drawn failed to cover Hiei's snarl of rage. Evidently they'd heard that one before. Kurama's free hand twitched, perhaps a wish to reach for a weapon, perhaps a caution. In any case, the smaller demon refrained from attacking, although he continued to fume as Kurama said coolly, "Brave words. But foolish. The whip I'm holding can slice through duranium in its more dangerous form; bone is one of the lighter elements. A rose has thorns, after all…"

The threat hit home; Mordecai looked downward involuntarily as the demon tightened his temporarily thorn-free bonds with a flick of his wrist. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Riker distinctly saw the green tint to the Orion's skin turn sickly.

"Captain," he pleaded, "will you let them threaten me this way?"

Picard raised one eyebrow, hands at his sides. "From where I stand, I see no harm being done to you. I don't control either of them, and quite frankly, wouldn't care to try."

He can't harm him—or can't be sure he'll get away with it. They're bluffing, he thought, looking a little closer. Why do I have a sinking feeling that they usually are?

"Tell us, Mordecai," Hiei said coldly. "Where is Fenell going, and what does he plan when he gets there?"

"Release me first, and I'll tell you everything," Mordecai tried to bargain.

The demons exchanged sideways looks for a brief moment. A trained diplomat, Picard tried to decipher their thoughts. He rather thought that they were confident enough in their abilities to allow the Orion to stand on his own. In a shuttlebay in the outer hull of one of the most advanced ships in the fleet, there was only so far he could go.

Kurama's whip vanished in a soft flare of pale green light, and Mordecai rubbed his arms nervously, distancing himself from the fox by a few steps.

"Captain Fenell," he started, shifting his eyes to Captain Picard, "will kill me when he learns that I have turned traitor. I want asylum."

"Asylum will be worthless if we are destroyed in battle," Picard warned him.

"Being destroyed in battle would be a far better alternative than suffering a turncoat's death, Captain Picard."

The captain looked to his left, then to his right. "Counselor, Commander, your thoughts?"

"You can't trust him, Captain," Deanna warned in an undertone. "Anyone who will betray his sworn captain and crew will betray others."

"Deanna's right, Captain. I say we grant him asylum in our brig."

"My officers have good points, Mordecai," Picard said, addressing the Orion calmly. "What have you to say in your defense?"

"Captain, in your brig or not, only on board your ship, I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain from telling the complete truth."

Yes, his life to gain, and his life to lose.

Powerful bait, Hiei replied silently. I'd choose life to lose, for him. I'm getting annoyed with being called 'pet.' You scared him, he changed the subject.

Sadly enough, it was fun.

Of course. I'd expect no less of you. Sensing the redhead's line of thought before he even thought it himself, Hiei cut off his partner's thoughts with, Now is not the time, kitsune. Their conversation had taken only a few breaths, and Mordecai had only now worked himself up to confessing all he knew.

"Alameda is en route to Hel's Gate, Captain." The Orion shifted his feet.

"Hel's Gate?" Riker asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Why would he go there?" Picard asked, brow furrowing. "It's a suicide course for any ship."

"Perhaps it would help if we knew what Hel's Gate was, Captain," Deanna Troi said softly. "I've never heard of it. Why does it have such a colorful name?"

"Because it's a pretty damn colorful place, Counselor," Mordecai said bluntly. "And that's just what you can see. What it can do to you—it would be a graveyard of unquiet dead if the Gate left enough for bones."

"Hel's Gate is a vortex, Counselor, a Maelstrom, and an urban legend as far as most people are concerned. In actual fact, it does exist, although it seems a foolish place for a smuggler's lair. The gravitational forces have never fully been explained, as no probe survives for long, and some of the phenomena haven't even received names yet."

Riker mulled it over. "Sounds like a good place for a trap. If Fenell really knows all that he seems to, he could be luring us in. We have only the word of one of his men."

"And sensor traces," Kurama reminded him. "This does give us a direction to search in, now."

"It fits," Picard decided. "I have also read theories that state that, if you could pass the outer fringes of the Gate, there is a wormhole, possibly a dimensional portal, possibly a hypothetical 'white hole,' all of which are equally likely. If a 'white hole' existed, Hel's Gate would be the place to find one. If Fenell has found a way to enter Hel's Gate, we will go after him. What else do you know, Mordecai?"

"I know nothing else, Captain," the Orion said nervously, as if expecting Fenell's wrath to descend on him at any moment. "I was a lower-decks crewman, and so expendable. However, if I remember anything, I will find a way to inform you at once."

"Understood. Lieutenant, escort our guest to the brig, but do not mistreat him in any way."

"Aye, sir," Faber saluted, and paced Mordecai as he calmly and quite docilely followed Ensign Shail from the shuttlebay.

"Opinions?" Captain Picard queried his second-in-command and ship's counselor, while resigning himself to the inevitable input of the two demons, whom he still wasn't quite used to yet. Why this might be, he didn't know. He had dealt, in his long career, with far stranger races, but the demons unsettled him at a basic level. He was beginning to believe it was imprinted into humans.

"He's telling the truth, Captain, as far as he knows it," Deanna said first. "He's genuinely afraid of this Gate, and seemed terrified of his captain's retribution."

"I don't see how Fenell could have passed or even entered the Gate," Kurama mused, eyes distant. He folded his arms. "Any energy output is immediately reflected back to you exponentially. He couldn't have chosen a more foolish place for a battle, even if he's anticipated Mordecai turning his coat."

"It's perfectly safe—for him," Hiei argued aloud. "All he has to do is lie still and silent if there's even a chance of being attacked. If the currents didn't rip his ship apart or toss it back and forth through time as it drifted, any weapons fired upon him would turn the Gate on the other ship."

Picard paced slightly. "Do you know anything more about the Gate? What's beyond it, for example?"

"No, Captain. Only the reports from observers, and you seem to have all the data we do. There might have been something in the confidential files at Starfleet Headquarters—but obscure spatial phenomena were not exactly a priority."

Riker sighed. "Do I want to know why you were into the confidential—and coincidentally enough, tightly sealed—files?"

"No, and we wouldn't tell you anyway; it's not at all important."

"So we're flying blind, with only the word of a defector and sensor readings, into a Maelstrom that could destroy either of us in a heartbeat?" Riker asked his captain, already pretty sure he knew what the answer would be.

"So it would seem. We'll get the coordinates from the ship's records, as I doubt anyone besides perhaps Mr. Data knows them off-hand." He turned and walked briskly for the shuttlebay door.

"More chasing wild geese," Picard's Number One sighed with a secret smile.

The thing about a wild goose chase, speaking as one who has actually chased a wild goose, none of the command team heard, is that occasionally, you catch it.

And until then, as I recall, you look pretty silly. And Fenell is substantially more dangerous than a goose, kitsune.

"All stop," Captain Picard commanded.

Even as the Enterprise decelerated from a surprisingly short number of hours at top warp and beyond, asking for and receiving a miracle from the warp engines, the residual traces of their warp field reacted with the suburbs of Hel's Gate, extending out to three AUs—three times the distance of Earth to the Sun. The resulting jolt impacted with the hull, causing feedback in several unshielded systems and dimming lights around the ship momentarily until the warp field completely died away.

On the main viewscreen, the Gate shone with an eerie golden and red radiance. Orange and bronze hues overcast the lighter shades of the cloud. A much darker, sullen red glow throbbed just beyond the reliable bounds of the sensors, manifesting as an elusive tendency only visible at the edge of the eye and with a healthy dose of imagination. Within the cloud, jolts of interstellar lightning split the vapors. Despite the lack of sound, the sound and smell of a crackle of ozone suggested itself. The sensors of the Enterprise, despite their best efforts, failed to penetrate any substantial distance.

"Mr. Data," Picard said, after giving his officers a few moments—no more—to admire the Gate, "analysis."

"Sensors are highly ineffective," Data said crisply, plying his Ops board. "However, they do indicate that this sector of Hel's Gate is made up of particulate matter from an unknown source. This is most likely the case throughout the region. Analysis of the particles reveals widely assorted elements, including hydrogen, lithium, and uranium in highest quantities. It is also composed of other substances not on record with the computer." He switched programs. "Captain, infernium trail does lead directly into the Gate."

"Noted. Transfer the coordinates to Mr. Crusher's console. Mr. Crusher, stick to that trail."

"Aye, sir, receiving coordinates now."

"Captain," Commander Riker spoke up from his seat at the captain's right hand, "recommend we proceed on minimal emergency power only."

"Excellent suggestion, Number One. Mr. Data, switch to emergency lockdown mode. No nonessential functions are to be carried out until we leave the Gate. Mr. Worf, lower shields."

"Sir!" the Klingon protested immediately. "There is a known hostile and a battle ahead. Proceeding unshielded not only exposes the ship to the partially unknown and potentially dangerous substance of the Gate, but leaves us vulnerable to attack. I do not recommend lowering shields at this time."

"Understood, Mr. Worf. Nonetheless, we cannot survive the Gate with our shield energy confronting that of Hel's Gate at every moment. The energy absorbed by the currents within has been reported magnified back upon its originator. The same rules apply to phaser fire. We can neither fire nor be fired upon within the Gate. My order stands."

"Aye, sir," Worf rumbled, and entered the command as the lights darkened and went out. The bridge was lit only by the blue tracking lights that ran along the floor, and even those were faded to a degree. The same thing would be happening around the ship, with only essential loci such as engineering and sickbay maintaining even a quarter of their accustomed power. In nonessential areas, only a single, very faint at best light would provide illumination. Under emergency lockdown, all computers and other devices in those areas would be shut down until the crisis had abated, and minimal life support only would be engaged.

"Red Alert. Take us in, Mr. Crusher, full impulse. Engage."

Carefully, Wesley guided the ship past the indefinite border of the cloud. Without delay, the Enterprise was buffeted by the currents that ran through the Gate. With a neat bit of quick thinking, Wesley brought them back on course, compensating continually for the turbulence. Despite his best efforts, though, their own impulse wake and emissions continually attracted the attention and charges of the volatile particles within the cloud, shaking the ship without pause. The vibration was noticeable, but not problematic, although the repeated impacts would eventually cause more intense damage to the outer hull.

Captain Picard didn't even have to ask for a report before Data gave him one. "The interior of Hel's Gate is highly turbulent, Captain. We may not be able to safely follow the exact route taken by Alameda without suffering damage."

"Mr. Data, activate passive sensors. As long as we're here, we may as well make the best of it."

"Aye, sir," Data responded as his fingers flew across the panel.

"Sir," he reported a second later, "although passive sensors are limited, I believe these gravimetric currents not only propel matter through space, but also through time, and presumably both in some cases, although this cannot be ascertained without more rigorous testing."

Through time? "Mr. Data, can you assemble a preliminary map of these currents?" Picard asked. "Use active sensors at your discretion."

"I will try, sir," Data said determinedly, and returned to his work, despite the ongoing shuddering.

"Mr. Crusher, do not follow the trail through any fluctuations of any kind, even if it leads directly through, until we get a clearer picture of our environment," he ordered.

"Understood, Captain," Ensign Crusher responded absently as he brought the ship back on course yet again.

Behind the command chair, Lieutenant Worf's panel suddenly blared wildly as the ship was propelled sharply to starboard. Wesley gave a hastily muffled shout of surprise as the Enterprise was nearly shoved into a current that crackled with ominous energy.

"Alameda off port bow!" Worf reported. "It is attempting to force us into a nearby current, where we would be at increased risk!"

"Shove back, Mr. Crusher," Picard ordered, standing.

The bigger Enterprise carefully moved away from the current, venting energy from the impulse engines unavoidably. It responded violently, emitting charges that exploded through the cloud at half the speed of light. Both Enterprise and Alameda were struck. Multiple impacts left charred streaks across their hulls. On Alameda, the energy encountered matter, threaded through the hull, resistant to its charge. The areas it could not travel through appeared, in the glow of the Gate, to be pits of darkness veining the ship, which was shaded a sullen brown by Hel's Gate.

Taking advantage of her foe's damage, and disregarding her own, which La Forge and his engineering team would be already hard at work on, the Enterprise swung around to impact slowly, almost gently, with the green Orion ship. Their respective engines strained against each other, neither daring to fire despite and because of their proximity. Not only would the inexplicable energies of the Gate violently punish anyone tossing energy weapons through it, at such a range, the explosion would damage the instigator possibly almost more than the victim.

Maneuvering slightly, the Enterprise began to win the kinetic battle, driving Alameda backwards, and towards the fringes of the Gate. The smaller ship struggled, attempting to twist away and perhaps dart past, but they were limited by how much energy they could expend in the process without being smashed up by their own output. Gradually, the two ships emerged in tandem from the volatile cloud.

Unfortunately for the Enterprise, if they proceeded in this way for too long, Alameda, being pushed, would get clear of the danger zone first, therefore being able to fire mere moments before Enterprise.

"Mr. Crusher, increase speed to 105 percent impulse on my mark, then drop back to full power only for two seconds. Mr. Worf, be prepared to fire the moment we exit the cloud. Keep an eye on those boundaries.

"Mark," Picard said clearly, sitting back down.

The impulse engines protested as they were forced beyond their design limits. Half a second later, they dropped back to their normal output. Alameda was propelled out of the cloud, with the Starfleet ship still protected by the vapors. In the blink of an eye, the nose of the saucer section, including the forward phaser banks, left the cloud. The rest of the saucer and the stardrive section did not have time to follow before Mr. Worf fired on Alameda with laudable accuracy, targeting weapons and propulsion systems.

Residual traces, thrown out of the Gate, crackled briefly in the void of space, but far greater explosions were the ones along Alameda. The green ship reeled back with main phaser banks fused, unable to fire. As they scrambled to bring secondary weapons to bear, Mr. Worf fired again, and even the secondary phasers were completely obliterated in the blaze of weapons energy.

"Fire again," Picard ordered. "Knock out those warp engines, Mr. Worf."

Worf was only too happy to obey, and a skillful shot severed the starboard nacelle. It drifted, with half of the pylon still attached, into deep space, where it spun leisurely, venting plasma into the void.

Seizing the chance at a suicide shot, the weapons officer aboard Alameda fired off two torpedoes, one at the Enterprise, and the other at the free-floating nacelle. The former impacted with the shields of the bigger ship, sending the deflector status down to fifty percent. The latter, however, had no shields to contend with. The still-venting plasma vaporized quite fiercely, combined with the antimatter that the torpedo was armed with.

The resulting explosion filled the space between the two ships. Arching tendrils reached into Hel's Gate, which consumed the energy quite promptly, and just as quickly vomited it back at them. The Enterprise was shielded, if only partially, and weathered the blast. Around the ship, damage reports wailed for attention. The inertial dampers failed, inevitably, and almost everyone, except for the redoubtable Mr. Data, was thrown from their chairs.

"Shields are holding," Worf said, as he picked himself back up and dragged himself to his station. "Warp drive is off line."

"Status of Alameda?" Picard asked, regaining his seat. Across the bridge, Commander Riker helped Troi up from where she'd been thrown against the closed turbolift door.

"Captain, Alameda is dead in space," Data reported calmly. "She is incapable of warp or impulse drive, although scans indicate maneuvering thrusters are online. All weapons systems are inoperative. Life support is on minimal power, but holding."

"Life signs?"

"Forty-two, sir."

"Are the sensors picking up on the infernium?" Picard asked urgently.

Data plied his console. "Yes, Captain," he said at last. "Although, the reported amount stolen is 2.65 kilograms greater than that currently on board."

"That's not good," Riker said with profound understatement. "Data, did you take into account the infernium brought on board by Mordecai?"

"Yes, sir. The figure stands."

"So, did they already sell—what was it? —2.65 kilograms?" Troi asked.

"They got away," a familiar voice hissed as the turbolift door swished open. Picard didn't even have to turn around to realize that Kurama and Hiei had joined them.

"How do you know?" Riker asked.

"A warp-capable shuttlecraft departed from their hanger bay just after you severed their nacelle. Fenell and his closest confidents are on board, armed with infernium weapons they've constructed," Hiei informed them.

"Data, do our sensors confirm that?" Picard asked.

Data checked his board. "No, sir. However, there is an empty hanger bay."

"So," Picard said, turning back to the demons, "how do you know something our sensors don't?" He believed them—it sounded plausible—but was still reluctant to go by unproved data.

"I am a jaganshi. I see things others can't, and I was watching. Fenell was never one to stay in a sinking ship."

"What in hell is a jaganshi?" Picard asked, rubbing his shoulder irritably. It was beginning to ache, and he suspected he might have broken it. Under normal circumstances, he would have gone down to Sickbay by now, or requested an orderly, but Dr. Crusher would have her hands solidly full with more serious injuries by now.

Hiei sighed, as if tempted to call them all 'fools' and ignore them completely. Instead of explaining in words, he tugged the bandana across his forehead off. As the cloth came away in his hand, a third eye opened briefly, then closed as he replaced the bandana.

"Fenell has gotten away," Kurama said before anyone could react. "Fortunately, he's only in a shuttle capable of warp three at the most."

"Warp three or warp nine, we can't catch him," Wesley spoke up. "The warp drive is off line."

"Oh," Kurama said softly. "That complicates things."

"Yes, it does," Picard agreed. "We'll keep our sensors on him once we find his shuttlecraft—I presume the sensors, at least, are online?"

"Aye, sir, functioning at full power," one of the ensigns manning the consoles along the back wall said.

"Good. Unless you two can wave your hands and repair the warp core, we're going to have to wait here."

"Sorry, Captain, that's not within our powers," Kurama sighed. "But-"

"What now?"

"A message was transmitted before you engaged Alameda in battle. The Lhyarri fleet is coming, Captain, and they're not more than six hours away."

Picard tapped his personal console, hoping rather belatedly that the comm system was working. "Bridge to Engineering."

Geordi's voice, sounding very harassed, came over the functional commlink. "We're working on it, bridge!"

"Understood. Do you have a time frame yet?"

La Forge sighed. "Six hours, give or take a few minutes."

"Is that a best-case scenario?" Picard asked. They would be cutting it very tight…

"Unfortunately, yes. Why?"

"Because," Picard informed him, "the Lhyarri fleet will be here at almost exactly the same time, and Fenell, some of his crew, and more than two kilograms of infernium, have escaped."

"Oh," Geordi said. "I'll try to speed it up a little, but I can't promise anything…Engineering out."

The commsystem went dead.

"So it's a race against time," Riker complained. "How are we supposed to catch up with Fenell if we've got a fleet on our tail?"

The bridge was silent. No one volunteered a suggestion.

"This is a very interesting map," Kurama said finally. He had moved to the back of the bridge and was using a formerly unoccupied station. Looking back, Picard saw that he had gone completely still, and, despite his calm words, was radiating an air of excitement. "This is a very interesting map."

"So?" Wesley asked. "What does that have to do with Fenell?"

"Because…" Kurama said, and then fell silent. Turning to Hiei, he beckoned him over, and they both stared at it. Trying to listen in, and failing, Deanna was nevertheless sure they were talking very, very fast.

"We're going to have to split up," Kurama added finally. "And we're going to need a shuttlecraft…and we're going to need time."

"How much time?" Picard asked. "You have six hours."

"Actually, Captain, I believe we have a lot more than that—even though it's already passed."

"Say what?" Riker said, speaking for everyone.

"Enterprise will deal with the Lhyarri," Kurama explained. "Hiei and I will handle Fenell…although we may have to summon up a little help."

Author's Note:Yes, I know. Give me a chance to talk my way out of the physics of Hel's Gate, please. If you combine hydrogen, lithium, and uranium, and fill an area three times the orbit of Earth with them, you will get the biggest and most radioactive explosion this side of the Big Bang. In Dujonian's Hoard, a dimensional wormhole at the center of the Gate leads to an alternate universe. They didn't say much about the physics of that universe—too bad—but I assume it's also composed of alternate matter as well, therefore the 'unknowns' in the particulate matter stream are 'alternate matter,' counteracting/neutralizing their this-universe counterparts. The balance is only tipped when excess energy, like impulse engines or phaser fire, is exposed to the elements and anti-elements. Then, well, boom. More scientific nonsense for your reading pleasure.

Chat:

The Nth Degree: Wow. I'd better write, huh? This is the second time I've been threatened via review. The first was a friend offering to bring a sledgehammer to school if I didn't review her fictionpress story. (Curiously enough, neither of us followed through.) A sword, however…yikes. It's a pretty sharp sword, too, if you can get it away from him… He could have just been a disposable red-shirt sort of character that's genuinely clueless. So glad everything's making sense…I do try to slip Reg in every so often for you…. As to timeframe, it's between 'Best of Both Worlds' and 'Final Mission'. One moment while I consult my timeline…How about right after 'Remember Me'? That's about halfway between the two. Stardate? I have no idea how to calculate those things…

grayangle: If I have one rule, it is that I don't drop stories. A collection of one-shots is on temporary hold at the moment, but only because this has my full attention—it's hard to concentrate on TNG, YYH, and Inu-Yasha all at the same time. It'll resume once I'm done with this. As to mindless action, I have found in YYH that filler usually means random brawling often for laughs; and I've been thinking about that (or lack of it) because it just doesn't fit in on the Enterprise or, indeed, this story. YYH is more than a little bit silly by nature and I've been trying to keep the worst of it out here.

KHnews hound: That's the fun of Star Trek machinery. It looks big and impressive and it works. Simulacra…well, I was rereading old favorites (in my copious spare time) and although it was supposed to be, like in the books, composed of pure magic—I don't like using that term, but can't think of anything else—I guess your version works too.