Chapter 5 - Detonations

"When you are saying that you were attacked without provocation, on what exactly are you basing that statement? Who fired first? Did you receive any warnings that you were in disputed space?"

"They did. No warnings. Nothing."

"So you claim you did nothing to provoke the attack."

"That's correct. We didn't even know they were there; they had refractive shielding. In the sensor-deafening particle soup that's the Trifid, that is almost as good as a Romulan cloaking device."

"Yes, yes. But you returned fire, of course."

"Your honour, perhaps it would be advisable to have my client relate the events in sequence, rather than having you … I mean us … speculate upon what did or did not happen."

"I am entitled to ask questions, counsel, and I will ask those that I feel are pertinent to this case, when I believe it is important to ask them. Did you or did you not return fire?"

"No your honour, we did not. The circumstances were not appropriate to do so."

"Are you telling me that Starfleet has gotten to a point where its flagship vessel just sits and takes a hit without fighting back? Have we learned nothing from the war we just went through?"

"No, your honour, we do not just 'sit and take a hit', and yes, we have learned a great many lessons from the Dominion war. Including that subtlety, unorthodoxy and differing strategic approaches are better than knee-jerk retaliation. There are always times when the use of force is the least appropriate tactical choice. This was such a time. Perhaps if you permit me to explain?"

"Your client is learning manners, counsel. Very well, Commander. Proceed."

+o+o+

The Enterprise, assisted by numerous unmanned probes, had carried out a systematic and detailed close-range search pattern, consisting of a grid within a five-light-year radius of the asteroid where the away team had nearly come to grief. The close search was overlaid with wide sensor sweeps. B'Elanna and Harry had woven a bit of their old Delta Quadrant magic, and had used the deflectors to extend the reach of instruments whose efficiency was severely affected by the increasing readings of theta band radiation in this section of the nebula.

But so far, nothing of interest had been found.

"This is like swimming in tomato soup," Tom remarked at the external view, which was dominated by impenetrable red and pink swirls, washing into purples. A starship pilot to the core, he considered any molecular density in excess of a pure vacuum as an untoward interference with navigation, and hence a personal insult. The external radicals made it nearly impossible to detect impending dangers – whether they be gravitational sinkholes, subspace anomalies, or approaching ships. Now that they had found evidence of some form of life, not to mention booby-trapped asteroids, the latter had become an uncomfortable possibility, and the Captain had agreed to put the ship on yellow alert.

Communications back to Starfleet had also been disrupted; interference from the odd physical environment of the nebula was so great that even enhanced subspace transmissions yielded nothing more than stellar static.

But they still had a great deal of exploration to do, and so far had found no indicators for why the stellar nursery that was the Trifid had suddenly started to become so unaccountably prolific. Not to mention where the single, apparently shipless, alien might have come from. The only readily quantifiable element of their search was the radiation levels. Even these seemed to wax and wane though; the black particle bands that gave the Trifid its name in particular seemed to act like an impenetrable shield against certain types of ambient radiation.

Added to the enigmatic environment were a variety of planetoids and rogue bodies, all of which, like the demon-class specimen whose moons they had investigated earlier, displayed completely erratic patterns of motion. There had been no signs of life on any of the locations they investigated, and no evidence at all of any starship or other vessel that could have accounted for a life form on an otherwise barren asteroid. Nothing, although some of the asteroid fragments did show the presence of both dilithium crystals and an unknown form of plasma explosive residue.

Riker would only permit the tractoring in of samples for analysis. He firmly refused Tom's half-hearted suggestion to send out another away team for closer analysis in a sensor-deprived environment. "I'll consider it if and when we make sense out of the physical phenomena in this nebula. Until then, there are too many variables and until we have a reliable way of detecting and disarming any booby-traps, I won't risk losing a member of my crew. Not even you, Commander, no matter how many lives you think you have left."

It was on the Enterprise's sixth day in the Trifid when suddenly the radiation spiked. Her shields, modified to withstand all known forms of radiation, seemed to hold and there were no immediately reported effects on the ship' systems or crew. Harry Kim's sensors did, however, finally find something rather intriguing.

"Captain, the latest radiation burst can be clearly traced to an asteroid approximately half a light year from here. On screen … now. Radiation is still increasing, mostly in the known spectrum, some omicron rads, and a pulse I can't identify, far beyond the theta band. It's been on the increase in the last three days, but it's accelerating enough now to qualify as a localized surge."

The view screen over helmsman Marc O'Reilly's head filled with a black, irregular shape that stood in dark and solid contrast to the swirling curtains of red, pink and purple. The pilot was focused on his instrument readings, impervious to the beauty before him.

And then, suddenly, something on the jagged shape flashed into a blinding white light so intense the bridge crew members had to shield their eyes. Deanna Troi, whose near-black Betazoid eyes absorbed more light than an ordinary human's, gave a gasp of pain.

"Darken screen," Riker barkedeven as Jorak lunged for his console and punched in the necessary commands.

Still the light kept brightening, until even on the darkest setting the screen was nearly white. After a few seconds of near-unbearable intensity, the brightness collapsed into itself, coalescing into a glowing oval. It hovered briefly in place, before arcing away and streaking into the red curtain of the nebula, leaving the black, jagged asteroid hanging in space like a dead husk.

Silence reigned on the bridge.

"What was that?" muttered Harry Kim, more to himself than anything, certainly not expecting an answer. "A miniature supernova?"

"Joy. Freedom." Deanna's voice, even though it was barely above a whisper, caught everybody's attention.

"Life."

+o+o+

The briefing room was quiet, even though the Captain had called on more than the usual small group of senior officers to attend. Cran was there, the Chief Astrophysicist; Jansson from Planetary Geology; and the EMH, whom Riker had gratefully appointed Acting Chief Medical Officer, in light of Fincher's ongoing incapacitation.

"Analysis?" Riker looked around the table.

Looking around the table to see if anyone else wanted to go first, Deanna Troi took the floor. "Based on the emotion I sensed, we witnessed the emergence of a new life form. An energy-based life form, able to at least to some extent project feelings telepathically. I'm not sure whether they can receive telepathic communications –both Jorak and I and another Betazoid crew members have tried to reach out - but based on what I felt, I have now doubt that they are sentient."

"The emergence is consistent with the visual records of what, seeing it from 5,500 light years away and with the accompanying time delays, we thought of as new stars being born." Cran glared at the screen with its picture of the Trifid nebula with undisguised resentment. This mission had been supposed to be about astrophysical phenomena; she had hoped to get at least one paper out of it afterwards, maybe an invitation to lecture at the Academy's Institute for Advanced Astrophysics. Instead, she could practically feel the xeno-biologists horning in on her turf and she did not like it in the least. "At least we were right about the 'being born' part."

Jansson chimed in. "And as we noted earlier, the asteroid where it happened was similar to the one we investigated earlier. Presence of considerable quantities of dilithium. Consistent geological environment. For what that's worth."

Harry Kim took his turn, reporting for Ops. "The event was accompanied by increased radiation levels, some unknown types, both leading up to the emergence and with a serious spike during. The radiation and other stuff continue to interfere with our sensors. We can't tell where the … life form went, or if there are any more about to arrive on the scene."

Harry's frustration at the unreliability of his instruments was palpable. "Oh, and one thing we did notice. The energy signature the being left behind is not dissimilar to the residue of the matter-antimatter exchange, consistent with the use of dilithium in warp technology."

B'Elanna looked at him, mildly incredulous. "You saying this … this thing … is related to my warp core?" Harry shrugged. "Just reporting what my instruments tell me. Which admittedly, is little enough."

Jorak's clipped, flat voice reassured those present that even though the energy had evidenced no immediate hostile intent, he preferred to keep the ship in its current state of heightened readiness. Undetected, possibly undetectable, explosive charges, likely intended to destroy beings capable of emitting dangerously high radiation levels, were a sufficient cause for concern. Whatever had mined the asteroids, might also have mined space. Yellow alert and appropriate shift protocols should be maintained.

Riker nodded his agreement and looked around the table. "So, in other words, we are exactly where we were three days ago, only with more mysteries having been added to the ones we already had on our plate." He pounded the table with his flat hands in frustration, beginning to wish privately the admiralty had sent a science vessel rather than the Enterprise. They had the same equipment, but they had sent the Titan as originally suggested, at least he would no longer be involved. Riker much preferred solutions to enigmas, and with none in the offing for days now, the impatient part of his personality threatened to come to the fore.

The EMH cleared his throat. "I'm not certain that this is relevant to the present discussion, but since this is the first time I have been invited to a staff briefing …," he glared at Tom and the Captain with all the sniffy indignation his subroutines could offer, "… I thought I would mention that there are thirteen new cases of the Vulcan measles onboard as of this morning. All have been quarantined and I am working on adapting the Vulcan vaccine to human, Bajoran, Kitarian and Bolian physiologies, since those species are the most prevalent on board. Since the bacterium has not previously affected those species and appears to be mutating at an astonishing rate, I will have to be creative. Fortunately for you, dealing with the unknown is a specialty of mine."

He paused briefly, making sure he had Riker's attention. "I would recommend, Captain, that crew members from non-human species – there are I believe eleven different races represented aboard, for a total of thirty-nine individuals – be quarantined until I can prioritize a vaccine for them. The children should all remain in their 'safe zone' for the time being. I have detected no sign of the bacterium there, but would like to keep it that way."

The Doctor looked at B'Elanna, who, if the flash in her eyes was any indication, was about to protest vociferously at the thought of being confined to her quarters for an indefinite period of time. "Fortunately, Lieutenant Commander Torres and her Klingon genes appear to be immune. She spent a rather inordinate amount in sickbay the other day where the epidemic originated, thanks to my … 'colleague'. Nonetheless, she seems to have come out unscathed. There is something to be said for coming of such … vigorous genetic stock." She rolled her eyes and snorted, while Tom chuckled to himself. He had to remember that line for future, private use.

Riker nodded his assent; the precaution seemed sensible and the numbers of incapacitated or quarantined crewmembers were not sufficient to seriously affect operations. Yet. Crew schedules and shift rotations would need to be adapted, of course.

Tom, who had remained silent and in listening mode throughout the proceedings, looked up at the EMH thoughtfully. "Doctor, could there be a connection between the radiation types and levels we've been experiencing out here, and bacterial activity?"

Riker sat up, interested. The Doctor opened his mouth, intent on voicing a protest, but closed it again when he realized that his erstwhile assistant had not actually dared to question his assessment, but rather opened up new avenues for consideration based on his own presentation. Even if these were possibilities he himself hadn't considered, but that could be forgiven. Keeping his voice as neutral as he could, the EMH allowed, "An intriguing idea, and not entirely unreasonable, Mr. Paris. We do have sufficient cultures to conduct the necessary experiments."

Tom nodded, adding, "Jorak, can you have Tactical ready one of the escape pods? We'll need to take the cultures outside the ship's shielding for maximum radiation impact."

The Doctor glared at Tom again, this time for the sin of presuming how he should best conduct the experiment, but wisely kept his counsel. Even he had to admit the suggestion made sense, but more importantly, there was the Commander's position on the ship to consider; this was no longer the mere medic he could abuse at will. Tom, reading his old nemesis rather better than the latter would have liked to contemplate, gave him a lopsided grin, just this side of smugness. Sometimes, to paraphrase something B'Elanna had once said, it was nice to be the First Officer…

In the absence of any new insights or issues to discuss, Riker adjourned the meeting.

As a result, all senior officers were at their respective duty stations when the ship started rocking from the impact of weapons fire, and a console exploded in engineering.

"Shields up – Red Alert!"

No matter how often this particular command was issued, it never failed to spike adrenaline levels in all who heard it – that miracle of human body chemistry that had allowed their ancestors to survive packs of sabre-tooth tigers stalking their caves. Senses sharpened, reaction speed doubled, time slowed down.

But for Tom and Harry, now there was an additional reason for that hyper-awareness. The friends exchanged a brief glance, in mutual understanding of just how much things had changed for them since their time on Voyager: conducting a battle with your own child onboard was several orders of magnitude beyond fighting for mere survival. Was the agony of not being able to run and protect your child, on balance, worth having them present onboard to watch them grow up?

There was no ready answer, at least not while the red lights were flashing and the ship was rocking. No time to doubt, no time to question.

This was their life, and now their children's. This was Starfleet.

Professional masks snapped firmly back into place, fingers started to dance over consoles, weapons were readied, scans initiated, and all thoughts focused on the moment.

The shields, which at first fire had only been set and modulated to block radiation rather than phaser fire, seemed to be holding once augmented, draining only at a rate of two percent per strike. That was the good news.

"Origin?" Riker barked, even as the damage report came in from engineering. Two injured, none critical. They would have to deal later with the reasons why the ship had not been detected, if indeed they would ever find out. The conditions in the Trifid continued to defy all of Starfleet's conventional instruments.

Tom dredged up a memory from a battle fought long ago. "Harry – try a metaphasic sweep. Based on incoming missile vector I'd start … port stern, sweeping thirty degrees counterclockwise."

Harry started to shake his head; his sensors were still unreliable, but … it was worth a try. "Initiating metaphasic sweep." He looked up, surprised. How the hell did Tom know where the ship would be? Oh yes, of course. Pilot. Dogfights. Kazon, Borg, you name it. "There. I have it. Vector Zero Zero Niner, a hundred thousand klicks out. On screen now."

"Lock on phasers." The Captain. "Helm, evasive maneuver Paris Beta Pi, and align with sensors and tactical."

"Aye, sir." O'Reilly complied competently, fluidly. Regardless, Tom had to repress an urge to rush for the helm, especially since the Captain was engaging the multi-station alignment he had developed during his strategic and command training; he was itching to try it out himself for real. He held on to the arms of his chair to keep himself from betraying the unbidden impulse, still strong after all this time. Delegation, he had found, was by far the hardest part of command. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.

The alien ship, when it appeared on the view screen, was smaller than expected, a clumsy-looking contraption about a quarter the size of Voyager. "Weapons systems are no match for the Enterprise," Jorak confirmed. "No warp drive, just a form of impulse. Our shields are holding; theirs could be taken out with one targeted phaser blast. Phasers locked on target, aligned with helm, ready to fire on your mark."

"Looks like they're lucky they got that free shot in before we upped our shielding," Riker said grimly. "David, meet Goliath. And Goliath is not happy. Hold fire, for now. Hail them, Mr. Kim."

"Opening channel sir. They're responding."

The face staring at them from the view screen was humanoid in shape and basic configuration: two eyes, nose, ears, mouth. But that was where the similarities ended. The alien was small, about the size of a human adolescent, with grayish-brown skin that appeared mottled and flaking – unhealthy looking, although of course there was no standard by which they could judge these things. Tom was reminded of the Cataati; there was something pathetic, defeated about this creature, the way he held his head, his body. His (her?) eyes were large and unblinking; the nostrils and ears were vertical slits, and the mouth resembled an insect's mandibles. Sure enough, when the alien started speaking, the sound was a series of rapid clicking noises.

It took the universal translator a few seconds to catch up to the new and unfamiliar language. When it did, the alien's words came out clearly meant as a challenge, but were delivered by the computer's voice, which was designed to pick up inflection as much as phrasing, in a tone that suggested something much closer to fear than bluster. Some of the words the translator chose were offered as alternatives; they would be until it had catalogued sufficient vocabulary and information about the alien language's use of metaphor and imagery to make appropriate choices.

"This is the vessel Ul'k'Nar of the K'rikian defense/attack force. You have entered disputed/at war and dangerous/exploding space without permission. Leave or we will kill/disable." The translator picked a male voice; it was usually correct in its assessment, so for the time being they would consider the alien to be a "him".

Riker stood up, deliberately drawing himself up to his full height. The alien twitched visibly at the sight. The Captain chose simple words, allowing the translator to be as unambiguous as possible in the other direction.

"This is Captain William Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration. We have no part in any dispute here, and we mean you no harm. But if you fire on us again we will be forced to respond. You will by now have seen that our weapons are far superior to your own, and that yours no longer have an effect on our ship. We would prefer peaceful discussion. The choice is yours."

He motioned to mute outgoing voice transmission, as the alien turned and commenced excited clicking discussions with someone outside viewing range. The translator caught snatches: "superior/better … not like light/bright threats … different … help/ally … possible …"

Will looked to Deanna, who confirmed what even an unknown and alien body language had already betrayed to the experienced watcher: "He's afraid. Of us, and of whatever or whoever they thought we might be helping. I sense no duplicity or hidden agenda, only the need to defend himself and his people from a perceived threat. Their fear seems connected with an image of a bright light … like the one we witnessed earlier today."

Riker nodded his thanks and signaled a reopening of the comm line just as the alien turned back to the screen.

"We are prepared to learn/see you. We will visit your ship. We will be three. No weapons."

Riker smiled. "That will be fine. We will bring you here with a machine called a transporter." He closed the comm link briefly at a gesture from Tom, looking questioningly at his Number One.

"Captain, suggest we beam them to Transporter Room One rather than the bridge, and make them walk here. It won't hurt to impress them with the size of the ship." Riker grinned, and nodded his assent.

Tom rose instantly and headed off the bridge, waving Jorak to come along with him. The Vulcan called for an additional security detail to join them as they entered the turbolift – Lieutenant Ayala and Crewman Dall, the tallest members of his staff. Tom smiled his approval at the choice, recalling his own first encounter with the towering Hirogen. He almost felt sorry for the small beings they were about to meet.

Riker turned back to the screen. "Show us who will come so we can lock onto them." The alien waved, and two figures similar to his own appeared beside him, one smaller and slighter, with eyes more almond-shaped than round – a female?

A signal from Transporter Room One indicated the room was secure; bridge control transmitted the coordinates of the three aliens on the view screen.

"Energize."