DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

STAR TREK:

THE GOD MACHINE

by Darrin Colbourne

Departure Day was normally a raucus affair. Most families usually made the trek into orbit to see their loved ones off, even if they'd already said their goodbyes on Earth. One could always count on a few last-minute replacements to report aboard, adding more family members to the crowd. Invariably, there would be one or two "Failed-to-Reports", crewmen who, for one reason or another, were slow getting back from official leave. Usually these latecomers would arrive at their ships accompanied by "Starfleet's Finest" in the Shore Patrol. Sprinkle in the odd representative of the Top Brass and a politician or two and this D-Day might have been no different from any other.

Yet there were differences, the main one being that, rather than being the usual non-event that the deployment of ships in peacetime amounted to, the embarkation of Deep Reconnaisance Group One on Project: Away was a worldwide media event. Starfleet's participation in the Space Probe Agency's first real space probe was big news, and Public Affairs people in both organizations had gone to great lengths to play up the positive aspects of this historic collaboration. That meant that every dock in Jefferies Base with a Constitution-class ship in it was flanked by a Departure Deck that sported - aside from the usual spectators - dozens of reporters from various media outlets from around the world, A Who's Who of Fleet Brass, past and present, at least one member of the Legislative Committees that funded and/or oversaw both organizations, and so many plain old looky-loos that Base Security had to start turning people away at the pressure doors.

Thus it was that one of the last-minute replacements, Dr. Philip Boyce, found himself saying his goodbyes to his wife Joanne in the middle of a media circus. "I did try to warn you it would be like this." He said, looking down at the woman in his arms. "We probably should have done this at home."

"Nonsense!" Joanne said. "I've seen you off from the dock every time you've shipped out since we were married, and I'm not going to miss this time. And I'll be waiting right here for you when you get back."

"This time I'll be gone five years."

"Last time you were gone seven, and Klingons and Romulans were shooting at your ships. I think I can manage this trip."

"What would I ever do without you?"

"Take up with some hussy and lead a life of shallow hedonism."

Boyce looked up. "Wow. You always make that sound so appealing."

Joanne swatted him, and they both laughed, then they kissed a long kiss, one almost as passionate as their first kiss so many years ago. When they broke, they gave each other one last hug. "I have to go." Boyce said.

"Remember…right here." Joanne said.

"I'll remember." He said, then they moved apart so Boyce could grab his bag. A last quick kiss, then Boyce made his way through the crowd to the gangway. There was now a guard at the dock end as well. Boyce showed the Lander his orders and the man let him pass, radioing the Lander in the Main Hatch that he was coming. That Lander stood aside as well. With a full complement in the ship, the Duty Officer was in the hatch with the Lander. "Welcome aboard, Doctor." He said. "Captain's compliments, and your presence is requested in his quarters as soon as you're squared away."

"Very Well. I assume my quarters are off Sick Bay, as usual?"

"Yes, Sir. Some things never change."

"They sure don't. All right, then. I just need directions to Sick Bay."

The Duty Officer gave him the proper directions and a few minutes later he found himself on the Life-Support Deck in the Command Section. It was a quick trip to Sick Bay, a fifteen-bed, fully equipped medical facility that Boyce hoped would see nothing more serious than the occasional stomach-ache or imitation of same over the course of the cruise. When he walked in to check the place over he was surprised to see someone sitting on one of the beds. It was a young woman, who looked to be about five-five, was athletic, light-skinned and raven-haired, and she was wearing a Work Blue uniform. She seemed to be bored sitting there, but immediately perked up when he walked into the space. "Hi." She said with a smile.

"Hi." Boyce said, and he wondered for a fleeting moment what a life of shallow hedonism might actually be like. "Um…Doctor, Corpsman or Patient?"

"None of the Above." She said as she slid off the bed. "I'm not a Medical Doctor, anyway. My Ph. D.'s in Exobiology." She came over and offered her hand. "I'm Gwendolyn Flores."

He nodded as they shook hands. "You're one of the scientists." He said.

"Guilty." She said as they broke apart. "And you're a Commander." She added as she noticed his rank insignia. "I guess I should have saluted."

"You're forgiven." He said with a chuckle. "There won't be any saluting once we depart, anyway. We don't do that while we're in space. And I prefer 'Doctor' to 'Sir', by the way."

"I'll remember that, Doctor." She said. He nodded, then went on with his examination of Sick Bay.

"So," he said as he walked around, "If you're an Exobiologist and you're not sick, what brings you to a place used to treat sick human beings?"

"Commander McDonald's idea." Flores grumped. "It's my Departure Station."

Boyce turned to her. "Really?"

"It's the same as my Battle Station."

Boyce smiled. "I remember how it works. I mean, why is this either station for you?"

"When Number One was assigning us Battle Stations she said I'd be of the most use here because of my specialty."

"Okay…so why are you in here now? We don't actually depart for another half-hour."

"True, but since there's actually nothing else for me to do for that half-hour, I figured I might as well spend it here."

"Ah. So where's the rest of my staff?"

"Oh. Dr. Fishburn and your Corpsmen are in the Support Section checking on the medical stockpiles."

"Of course. I was just there. So this is your Battle Station, huh? How much do you remember about good old human biology?"

"Thigh bone's connected to the hipbone, right?"

Boyce chuckled. "You'll do. You can get back up on the bed if you want. I'm just going to drop my stuff off in my stateroom and then go see the Captain."

"Okay." She said as he headed out of the Bay. "I'll just wait right here…"

"Chris, I'm gonna break your neck!" Boyce said as the door to the Captain's quarters slid open. There was someone else in there with him, a tall, muscular, blonde Master Chief Petty Officer in Work Gold. The two men recognized each other immediately.

"You were right, Cap'n." The Master Chief said. "He is glad to see you."

Boyce grinned. "Rob! How are you doing?" He said as he came in to shake the man's hand.

"Just fine, Doc." MCPO Robert Garrison said, a grin on his own face.

As they shook, Boyce said: "Don't tell me Chris corralled you into this snipe hunt too…"

"No, Sir. Not 'corralled'. I've been CMC aboard Enterprise for a while now." Garrison was the Command Master Chief, the ship's Most Senior Enlisted Man.

"Good for you. How're Kyla and the girls?"

"They're all fine. Janet's gone out for the school softball team."

"Hah! Her mother's looks and athletic! She's probably turning into a real heartbreaker."

"Don't remind me. There was this one kid…"

"'Scuse me!" Pike said. "Remember me? The Captain? These are my quarters?"

"I remember you, Chris!" Boyce said. "You're the guy who wrecked my retirement."

"Hey, if you didn't want to be called back, you should have gone whole hog and not just switched to the Reserves."

"When I did that I didn't expect to be called back unless the Klingons were invading! I certainly didn't think I'd be reactivated for a glorified Science Fair project!"

"Doc, would you let me explain?" When Boyce calmed down: "It's because of that 'Science Fair project' that I need you. I have no idea what kind of crap we're going to be facing on this cruise, and back in the war you were the best Emergency Surgeon we had. You're just lucky I thought of recalling you first! Everybody in the Squadron wanted you!"

"Chris, there are plenty of talented doctors in the Medical Corps…"

"Yes there are, but none of them are you. You gotta help me out here, Doc. I got a ship full of scientists playing 'officer' who aren't happy campers and I need a sheepskin on my side. That's why you're here."

Boyce thought about it for a minute. "Sure, play to my ego…" he muttered. The other men laughed.

"It won't be that bad, Doc." Garrison said. "A few of the scientists aren't that hard on the eyes."

"Word has it that Number One might finally face some serious competition for her Miss Enterprise crown." Pike said.

"I'm surprised she hasn't kicked your butt yet for starting that." Boyce said.

"Oh, she almost did the first year. I convinced her that it would help with crew morale, and I was right. Last year she happily dusted her competition - for the good of the crew, of course."

"Oh, of course." Boyce said. He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. I found one of them in Sick Bay when I settled in."

"Had to be Lt. Flores." Garrison said.

"That was her - and she is easy on the eyes, by the way, but I noticed something odd when I looked at her Uniform shirt."

"What was that?" Pike said.

"Her Service Patch."

Garrison barely suppressed a chuckle. Pike just lowered his head and shook it.

"Well, am I nuts, or have I been gone so long they changed the Starfleet Insignia?"

Pike straightened up and tapped his Service Insignia. "Nope, same old Star, Globe and Crossed Anchors."

"Okay, so what was that on her chest? It looked like someone carved an arrowhead out of a Communion wafer."

This made Garrison laugh harder. "Good one, Doc! I hadn't heard that one yet!"

Pike was more subdued. "The Space Probe Agency decided that its people should have their own Service Patch, so they came up with…that."

"Well, what's it supposed to be?"

"You're gonna love this!" Garrison said, then he cleared his throat. "It's a stylized representation of the mathematical relationship between the power used in the creation of Warped space and the amount of warping that actually takes place."

It took Boyce a moment to digest that. "So, in other words, they made a Service Patch out of a function?"

"Imaginative, huh?" Pike said as Garrison laughed. "Nothing says 'Science Officer' like a Cochrane Delta."

Boyce just shook his head. "Oh, it's gonna be a long, strange trip."

"It is, indeed. Welcome to the Science Fair, Doctor Boyce."

Five minutes before Departure Time, Number One's voice sounded clearly over the Intercraft speakers. "Now Hear This: All Hands to Departure Stations! All Hands to Departure Stations! This is not a drill!"

"Ugh!" Flores said. She was already in Sick Bay, standing by Dr. Boyce. "Do you know how many times you have to drill for the phrase 'This is not a drill' to have any meaning?" She was recalling the last two weeks under McDonald's tutelage.

"I know all too well, My Dear." Boyce said, then he started to get the department organized.

"Relax, Lieutenant." Garrison told Goren as the latter came trotting into Main Damage Control. "We're covered."

"Force of habit, I guess." Goren said.

"I see that. Look, Lieutenant, as of two minutes ago, training is officially over. Number One doesn't have time to look over your shoulder so don't kill yourself getting here. As long as you're in the space when we call 'Ready', you're all right. There's just a hard way and a smart way of getting here, is all. The more you do it, the smarter you'll get."

"You're right. I'm probably just a little over-eager. I want to be able to contribute, Y'know? Pull my own weight. I used to be in this for real."

Garrison glanced at Goren, then went back to his status board. "Yes, Sir. We all know you used to work for a living."

There was general laughter in the room at that. Main Damage Control was the domain of the Ship's Master Chiefs and Senior Chiefs. When the laughter died down, Garrison said: "If you want, we can get you back to where you're doing honest work again later. For now, just don't break yourself getting here, okay?"

"Aye, Aye, Master Chief." Goren said, a little dejected. Not only was he the only officer in a room full of NCO's, he was the only Blue Shirt in a room full of Reds and Golds. That's what I get for re-upping, he thought.

Each station in the now powered-up Control Room sounded off. "Countermeasures Ready!"

"Weapons Ready!"

"Fire Control Ready!"

"Navigation Ready!"

"Communications Ready!"

"Sensors Ready!"

"Science Ready!" Montoya instantly regretted how incongruous her ready call sounded, just as she had every time they'd done this particular drill, but McDonald had been adamant: There was no "Operations" section anymore, and the sooner everyone got used to that, the better.

After listening to those reports and the reports from the other sections, Number One turned to Pike and said: "Sir, the ship is ready in all respects."

"Very Well." Pike said. "Commence Engine Startup!"

Now it was Adams's turn. "Commence Engine Startup, Aye! Propulsion Officer, commence startup."

"Commence Startup, Aye." The Propulsion/Power Officer said. "Starting Number One Engine…Energizers to 'Standby'…Energizers spinning up, Starting Number Two Engine…Energizers to 'Standby'…Energizers spinning up…Number One Engine at full Power…Number Two Engine at full power."

"Switch to internal power," Adams said, "and Commence Sub-light Engine Startup."

"Switching to internal power; Commencing Sub-light Engine Startup: Ignitors to 'Standby'…fueling…ignition! Number One is hot…Number Two is hot…Specific Impulses at propulsion levels."

Adams turned to the Center Seat and said clearly: "Conn, Engineering. Engines are up and running. Maximum Sub-light speed available is one-third c."

"Very Well." Pike said. "Clear moorings, and tell the base we are ready to launch."

In the Jefferies Base Control Center, the Launch Control Officer - a Lieutenant in Gold - listened to the ships announce their readiness, then gave the order. "Retract umbilicals and open the outer doors, 8-3 through 8-14."

Two technicians repeated the orders as they carried them out, retracting the fuel hoses, power shunts, docking clamps and gangways and opening the space doors in docks Eight-Three through Eight-Fourteen, the 12 docks with Constitutions in them.

Dr. Narain and Admiral Jellico were watching the launch in the Control Center. The scientist was having a wonderful time. "It's amazing!" She said. "I've never seen so many ships start at once! How do they synchronize with each other?"

"Professionalism." Jellico said with a smile. He checked his watch. "Would you like to give the order?"

"Could I?" Narain said.

"Just tell the Lieutenant to Launch the Squadron." He said.

Narain smiled, turned to the Launch Control Officer and said: "Launch the Squadron."

The Officer smiled back. "Launch the Squadron, Aye." Then to a technician: "Send to all ships, 8-3 through 8-14, 'You are Go for launch.'"

The technician repeated the order as she keyed the appropriate Shore-to-Ship circuits, then said: "Deep Recon Group One, you are Go for Launch. Say again, you are Go for Launch. Sortie your ships."

"Helm, Ahead Creep." Pike said.

"Ahead Creep, Aye." Number One said from the Helm Station. She'd spent the past minute or so adjusting her grip on the Attitude Control Stick and Sub-light Engine Throttles. Now she gave the Throttles the slightest flick of her left wrist, goosing the engines enough to push the Enterprise out of the berth.

There were cheers and whistles on the Departure Deck of the Eight-Ten Dock as the Enterprise's Sub-light engines flared for the briefest of moments and the great ship slipped through the outer doors.

There was a better view from the outside. Hundreds of personal spacecraft were in Earth Orbit just outside the restricted space around Jefferies Base. In them, scores of enthusiasts with imagers and zoom lenses got a once-in-a-lifetime view of a squadron deployment. It was even rarer to see a squadron composed of twelve ships of the same class, so it was special treat to see Enterprise, Yorktown, Lexington, Saratoga, Constellation, Hornet, Independence, Ranger, Kitty Hawk, Princeton, Wasp and Concorde emerge from their berths simultaneously.

Captain Ortiz's husband had brought their 9-year-old son up to see Mommy's ship depart. As the boy watched all the ships through the imager lens, Dad said: "Now watch closely. Once they get clear of the station, they'll turn every which way and fly off really fast and they'll pick up their attack ships and shuttles."

"Set course for first AOR, Ahead Standard." Pike said.

"Set course for first AOR, Aye." The Navigator said. "Course plotted and laid in."

"Coming to new course, Ahead Standard." Number One said as she adjusted the ship's attitude in space and pushed the Sub-light Throttles forward. After a moment: "Helm answers Ahead Standard. Deflectors Full Intensity."

The last was an order to the Countermeasures Officer, who acknowledged and amped the ship's navigation deflectors to full power as the Enterprise gained speed.

"Send to Flight Ops." Pike said to the Communications Officer. "Open Flight Bay doors and prepare to recover support craft."

In space, the spectators watched as the ships fanned out and streaked away in different directions, followed by a host of smaller, faster streaks. These were the ships of the 59th Tactical Support Squadron - the "Outriders" - and the 38th Logistics Support Squadron - the "Trash-Haulers" - staging out of another base in orbit. The 24 Cavalier Combat Support Craft and 36 Workhorse Logistics Support Craft divided into groups of 2 Cavaliers and 3 Workhorses and rendezvoused with their assigned ships. Once aboard, the senior Cavalier pilots would serve as the ships' Smallcraft Group Commanders. This was always the most exciting thing to see when a squadron deployed, so the Ortizes and the others in the audience were enjoying the show.
There were other spectators no one knew about. Running cloaked and riding high above the ecliptic plane was a Klingon Bird-of-Prey type scout craft. Its long-range sensors were trained on the third planet from the Sun, taking in as much of the deployment as possible without using active scanning. The craft's commanding officer, Commander Kang, knew that once the Humans collected their smallcraft, their ships would go to Warp, and the Empire would have to rely on other intelligence sources to find out where they'd gone. At best, Kang would only be able to tell his superiors the ships' courses as they went to two-thirds Sub-light speed.

Kang mused over the situation. Normally, observation missions in the Solar System during the cease-fire (there was no word in the Klingon language for "peacetime") were routine affairs, and he'd expected to be bored for most of the time his vessel was stationed there. That was before Starfleet had recalled the Constitutions and their monitoring of civilian communications had elicited a surfeit of information about some exploration mission of some kind. Kang suspected the publicity was simply a cover for a more serious mission. Perhaps the ships were trying to find a way to flank the Empire in advance of a resumption of hostilities. Who knew? All he knew was that once the ships warped out of the system, they were no longer his problem.

"We'll stand down from Action Stations when the Humans commit." He said to his First Officer.

"All ships recovered." The Communications Officer said. "Flight Bay doors are closed."

"Rig ship for Warp." Pike said.

"All Decks, prepare for Space Warp!" Number One said over the Intercraft.

Montoya glanced over at McDonald as the ready reports came in. It was the first time she'd felt real fear. At the end of the Warp - it would feel like only a few seconds had passed - they would be in the first Area Of Responsibility, the first system on her assignment list. Then the Common Man project would have begun in earnest, and that little part of it would be her responsibility, without any real-time communication with Dr. Narain. She couldn't depend on her mentor for moral support. Suddenly she felt truly alone. She hoped she would get over it once she started working, but what if she never did? What use would she be then?

"All Decks report Ready." Number One said, and the time for doubt was over.

"Engage!" Pike said.

Number One switched her left hand from the Sub-light Throttles to the smaller Warp Throttle, which she pushed to the stops. As she did so the Main Engines powered up their Warp Driver Assemblies. In seconds the space directly in front of the ship shimmered and then collapsed in on itself, creating a gravity field that drew the ship right into it. From the perspective of the spectators in space, Enterprise and her sisters winked out of existence.

Project: Away had begun with a bang.