Of Cats and Dark Energy
Part 5: Call for Help
Miranda had just exited the shower when an alarm began to blare. Then Captain Picards' voice came over.
"Yellow alert! All command crew to the bridge. Miss Lawson and Justicar Samara to the bridge, please."
At least the sonic shower meant she didn't have to get dried. Miranda bolted through into the bedroom, looking for her clothes where she had left them on the floor last night. Her Cerberus uniform was there, but the underwear was gone!
"On the bed, I got you some fresh." Will appeared at the door, holding a steaming cup. "It's a yellow alert, so we're in no immediate danger, but we shouldn't dawdle. Here."
Miranda took a gulp, of the coffee -thankfully black – and located the fresh underwear in its clear wrapping on the bed. She began dressing quickly, grateful that the considerable amounts of 'syntheholic Chardonnay' she had imbibed the previous night were having no apparent after-effects.
Dressed, she went into the living area of her generous guest quarters, where Will handed her a cereal bar. "Eat it on the way." He advised. "We probably won't get breakfast, and it might be a while before lunch!"
"Thanks." She said. "Will, how do you want to play this? Us, I mean."
"No need or reason to keep anything secret." He told her. "We're both unattached, so no reason to make a big thing of it, or to pretend it never happened. Nobody will think any the less of us, if that's what's worrying you."
"OK, good." Miranda said. "Though I was more worried about your reputation than mine. I don't live here, after all!"
He laughed, grabbed her hand, and they made off for the bridge.
The last time Miranda had been here, the place had had an air of quiet professionalism. Now, however, there was an added edge, extra alertness. Picard let her settle into the seat she had occupied before, then spoke without preamble.
"We have picked up a distress call from a nearby krogan colony." He said. "I realise we are on a mission of vital importance, but I am unwilling to leave a call for help unanswered. Also, the matter involves something which concerns your own recent mission.
"Mr Worf, play the message back, please."
It was an audio-only message, but quite clear.
"Calling anyone out there! This is Ferang Lok of the Ferang krogan clan colony. We are under attack from Collectors. They came into the system and made contact. Offered a cure for the genophage in exchange for half of our warriors. But Urdnot Wrex had told us about Shepard and warned us not to trust the Collectors, so we told them to go to Hell.
"Now they're attacking us. Our surface defences are holding, but we don't have any ships. They'll be groundside in a couple of hours, and we don't have anything that can hold off their Seeker swarms. We need help, fast!"
There was a moment's silence, then Picard asked. "Can you clarify the issues, Miss Lawson?"
Miranda shrugged. "I hadn't expected this, but of course we're not using the relays. In the Normandy, we'd have been mid-jump and wouldn't have picked the call up.
"We didn't realise that there was more than one Collector ship out there. They were specifically targeting humans, but now that's changed. But we destroyed their base, the one the Reapers were using to control them. We thought it was all over!"
"Maybe these ones didn't get the memo?" Riker suggested.
"I guess not." Miranda said. "In which case, we're lucky Wrex got the word out. He's a krogan chief, and an old friend of Shepards. The Ferang must be allied to the Urdnot, and for that reason alone, Shepard would want us to help.
"But I warn you, Collector ships are big, and they have a lot of firepower!"
"The Enterprise is hardly a corvette." Worf pointed out. "And we also have firepower!"
"We will assist." Picard decided. "Mr Crusher, take us out of warp at the edge of the system and approach the Collector vessel at flank speed. Mr Worf, go to Red Alert and prepare for combat."
Orders were carried out with quiet efficiency. Miranda glanced over at Samara and raised an eyebrow. The asari nodded -this crew was as well-trained as anything either the Alliance or the Council could produce.
"The Collector vessel is now within sensor range." Worf announced. "Scanning. The ship appears to be three times larger than the Enterprise and at least partly organic in construction. Drives are a mixture of mass-effect, ion thrusters and a very powerful but primitive rocket system. Shields are kinetic, similar to our meteor shields.
"The ships' main armament appears to be a single, very large, particle beam cannon mounted on the bow. Indications are that our shields could sustain a single direct hit, but would be reduced by 50% in doing so. We could not withstand a sustained bombardment. However, the only other weapons are point-defence laser emitters, which would not damage our shields at all."
"Tactical recommendations?" Riker asked.
"Analysis of their engine configuration would indicate that they are slower and less manoeuvrable than us." Worf noted. "Their shields would provide only partial protection against our photon torpedoes and none at all against phaser fire.
"Their main weapon has a limited arc of fire. No more than thirty degrees to port or starboard, and perhaps sixty degrees downwards. They cannot fire at a target above them.
"They will attempt to meet us head-on or get above us. I recommend that we stay close to them, either on their flank or preferably above. Analysis indicates that their hull could not withstand a hit from any of our weapons."
"That's true." Miranda agreed. "Once we got cannon on the Normandy that could ignore their shields, we just tore up the hull."
"Understood." Picard said. "Base your tactics on your analysis, Mr Worf."
"Captain, we are now within visual range." Worf reported.
"On screen." Picard said. "Prepare to hail them across all frequencies."
"Sir, hailing may elicit an immediate hostile response. I suggest we divert warp power to the shields now." Worf urged.
"Make it so." Picard said as the screen lit with the image of the Collector ship.
Riker whistled. "That is big!" He noted. "Is it actually a ship or a hollowed-out asteroid?"
"Could be either, or both." Miranda allowed. "We know so little about the Collectors."
"Until recently," Samara added, "few even knew they existed."
"Hailing frequencies open." Worf said.
"Collector vessel," Picard spoke clearly and sternly, "this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise. Please stand down and cease all hostile activity. We would prefer to settle the situation peacefully, but we will defend the colony and ourselves with all necessary force. Please respond."
There was a brief silence, then a response, only on audio. The voice clicked and hissed, as if something were trying to produce the sounds of human speech without the proper organs.
"Withdraw." It said. "We cannot return. We must have the krogan."
"Surely that is unnecessary?" Picard replied. "Now that your people are no longer under Reaper control, you could contact the Council. Make peace. Find a world where your species could settle and survive."
"Survival is not enough." Was the answer. "We must dominate. To dominate, we need the krogan. Withdraw."
"They have terminated communication." Worf announced, "Sir, they are powering their main weapon, preparing to fire on ground defences!"
"Photon torpedoes, full spread, proximity detonation!" Picard snapped. "Fire when ready!"
"Aye, sir." Worf replied. The lights dimmed, and Miranda head a series of whooshing sounds.
"Torpedoes away." Worf said.
Miranda watched them on the screen. A dozen points of light that flew rapidly at the Collector vessel before exploding a few metres away from the hull. The explosions were so bright that the screen dimmed momentarily. As it cleared, she saw that parts of the enemy ship were already aflame.
"Collector shields are down." Worf reported. "Significant damage to hull at several points. Sir, they are turning toward us and preparing to fire!"
"Evasive manoeuvres!" Riker barked.
This time, Miranda felt the motion. She was pressed back into her seat as the Collector ship seemed to drop off the bottom of the screen. It seemed that the kid at the helm had taken the Tactical Officers' recommendations to heart, and was trying to get above the Collector ship. Then there was a sudden jolt, as if they had hit turbulence.
"Status?" Picard asked.
"Glancing blow." Riker responded, looking at a workstation mounted on the arm of his chair. "Shields at 80%, no hull damage, no casualties."
"We are running at flank, toward the Collector vessel, about five hundred metres above it." Crusher reported. "Closing too fast for them to aim at us again. Orders?"
"Close distance to three hundred metres and maintain speed and relative position." Picard told him. "Take us along the length of the ship, Wesley. Mr Worf, fire as your guns bear!"
"Aye sir." Worf was grinning now, despite his serious tone. "Charging ventral phaser array."
"Switching to ventral view." Horek said imperturbably.
Now they could see the weird landscape of the Collector hull coming toward them. An apparently random conglomeration of metal, rock and what looked disturbingly like flesh. Then they were racing over it. There was a high-pitched warbling sound and a beam of light stabbed down from the Enterprise to sear along the surface below. As Miranda watched the track of destruction it left, she felt at once exhilarated and scared by the power of this ship.
Apart from lasers, and the Collector particle beam gun Shepard had liberated on Horizon, neither the Alliance nor the Council had spent much research on energy weapons, apart from lasers. The mass effect rendered projectile weapons effective in most cases, and their construction was so much simpler. But now the phased plasma beam projected from the Enterprise was doing more damage than several volleys from the Normandys' Thanix cannon could have. It was clearly slicing through the hull and deep into the interior of the enemy like a hot knife through butter. Miranda saw fires break out, explosions erupt, and clouds of debris, perhaps even bodies, ejected. The Collector point defence lasers were firing constantly, flaring uselessly against the impervious shields of the starship.
Then there was another jolt, more violent this time, flinging people around. Beside Miranda, Riker almost flew from his seat. Without thinking, she used her biotic power to catch him. Young Crusher was pitched over the navigation console and might have been seriously injured had Samara not used her biotic abilities to field him. He got to his feet, nodded his thanks and scrambled back to his station.
"Report!" Picard demanded.
Horek, whose species Miranda had been told was Vulcan, replied as if nothing unusual had occurred. "We appear to have been caught in the detonation of this ships' mass-effect engine. Shields at thirty percent, structural integrity at 100%, weapons offline, warp core stable, life support nominal.
"Captain, my readings indicate critical energy core build-up in the enemy vessel. Detonation in three minutes, forty-nine seconds."
"Mr Crusher, get us out of here!" Picard barked. "Warp One! Engage!"
A few moments later, Horek announced. "We are now at a safe distance."
"Take us out of warp and circle around, Mr Crusher." Picard ordered.
Even from this distance, the death of the Collector was spectacular. The massive vessel tore itself apart in a single, huge explosion. In a matter of seconds, nothing was left but a slowly-dispersing debris cloud.
"Will any of that hit the colony?" Miranda wanted to know.
"Negative." Horek replied. "Any remaining fragments that fall into the planets' gravity well will burn up in the atmosphere."
"Well, that's a relief!" She said. "I'd hate to think we'd saved them from the Collectors only to bombard them with meteors!
"But, dammit, I wish we could've saved at least some of the ship for analysis!"
"Preventing that seems to have been their aim, Miss Lawson." Worf told her. "Readings show that the overload was almost certainly intentionally triggered. We had inflicted no damage on that area of the ship. It might have been a self-destruct."
"That would make sense, I suppose." Miranda said.
"There is no further threat?" Picard asked.
Worf shook his head. "No energy signatures or life-signs. Not even escape pods. The Collector ship was completely destroyed."
"Very well. Secure from General Quarters." Picard ordered. "Damage report, Number One?"
"Minimal." Riker replied. "Structural integrity wasn't touched. Shields are back to full. Weapons back online. Geordi is performing a level one diagnostic, but he doesn't expect to find anything."
"Excellent!" Picard was visibly relaxing. "Picard to Sickbay. Any casualties, Beverley?"
"Nothing serious, Jean-Luc." The doctor sounded relieved. "A couple of fractures and concussions, but mostly bumps and bruises."
"Thank you, Doctor." Picard said.
Samara was staring at the wreckage on the viewscreen. "It must have been hard," she observed, "for the krogan chief to reject the offer of a cure for the genophage, even at the cost of half of his clan."
"What is this genophage?" Picard asked.
"A genetically-engineered plague unleashed on the krogan by the salarians." Miranda explained. "After the Krogan Rebellions, they decided that the only way to stop the krogan becoming a menace to everyone was to control their numbers. The genophage only allows a small percentage of krogan pregnancies to result in live births."
"A cruelty born of necessity." Samara said sadly. "The krogan should never have been raised from their previous state – they had all but annihilated themselves in clan wars. But the salarians needed powerful armies to fight the rachni, so they saved the krogan and advanced them. After the rachni were defeated, the krogan began to spread. They were prolific and aggressive, and reacted to efforts to control their expansion with war.
"Once they were contained – at terrible cost – the choice that faced the salarians was either genocide or population control. They chose the latter. I suppose you think we should have found a better way, Captain?"
Picard shook his head. "It's not my place to judge, Justicar. In the past, the Federation has had to take hard decisions, some of which might be accounted cruel. But we did what we had to to, using the means we had. To judge those actions from the perspective of our current state of advancement would be both foolish and useless.
"It is obvious, though, that these krogan distrusted the source of the offer too much to take it."
"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes." Miranda murmured.
"'I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.'" Riker translated.
Miranda grinned at him. "A classical education?" She teased."Is there no end to your talents, Will?"
"Standard curriculum at StarFleet Academy." He told her.
"Of course," Worf put in, "in the original Klingon, the quotation refers to Romulans, not Greeks."
Miranda stared at him, then spotted the humorous twinkle in the fierce eyes.
"It is part of Mr Worfs' duties to keep us all on our toes." Picard noted. "And he performs that duty as well as he does others."
Picard was alone on the Observation Deck. He often found the solitude here, and the view of the vast expanse of space, more relaxing than the cheery bustle of Ten Forward. He was surprised, but not disturbed, when Justicar Samara quietly appeared at his side.
"Good evening, Justicar." He said.
"Samara, please." She said. "And you are Jean-Luc, though only your Medical Officer has the courage to address you so."
Picard smiled. "Beverley and I are old friends. Her late husband and I were shipmates."
"And you are now mentor to their son." She noted.
"I am not a family man, Samara." He replied. "I think you will find that my First Officer fills that role. My relations with young people are...awkward at best."
She chuckled. "I think you are mistaken, Jean-Luc. Certainly young Wesley admires Will, seeks his advice and regards him as a friend. But his role-model, his touchstone for all he aspires to be, is you."
Picard considered. "Perhaps I should make more time for Wesley." He allowed. "I owe his father that much, at least. And there are a few stories I could share with him. Stories Jack would never have told Beverley!"
They were silent for a while, both gazing out at the stars. Unconsciously, perhaps, they drew closer together, until their shoulders were almost touching.
"Ah, the Void." Samara murmured. "It is my comfort and my doom."
"How so?" Picard asked.
"We are a long-lived race." She told him. "To reach a thousand of your years is usual with us. In our Maiden days, the Void calls out to us, and we go forth to explore. We become scientists, explorers, soldiers, perhaps even criminals and mercenaries. We meet many people, many races, make friends, make enemies, take lovers, experience all that we can.
"Then, when we reach the age of three or four hundred, our Matron times come. We feel the urge to settle somewhere, to find a life-mate, to bring forth and raise our daughters. Then later, we become Matriarchs, leaders among our communities.
"So it would have been with me, until my daughters were born. Then what should have been joy, turned to horror. A rare genetic defect was present in all of them, Jean-Luc. A defect that rendered them deadly creatures; to mate with them would be death. Two of them agreed to retire to a place kept for such unfortunates. But the third, the best and bravest, refused. She fled to spend a life of hunting and killing among the other species.
"I had no choice. I left my mate, put aside my home and possessions, and took the oath of a Justicar. For more than a century, I hunted criminals, slavers and others, but always I hunted for Morinths' trail. It was only a few months ago that I ran her down, with Shepards' help, and finally ended her.
"So you see, Jean-Luc, I have no home except the Void. Self-exiled, yet presented every day with new possibilities."
After a while, he said. "I understand you told Beverley that there are no men among your race?"
Samara nodded. "We are a mono-gender race, it is true. And because we all have female characteristics and can all give birth, we are viewed as female by multi-gender races. It is not something we gave much thought to before we encountered other sapient species.
"We mate by a melding of nervous systems, something we can do with any sapient species, and where we find characteristics we admire, we can incorporate them into the genetic makeup of our daughters. As a result, many asari now carry traits gleaned from other races. It has made us a more diverse people while not changing our essential nature.
"But we do not mate randomly, as some have implied. We need to be impressed by any potential mate, impressed beyond mere physical attraction.
"If I were to say, Jean-Luc, that you impress me more than anyone I have met in many years, would you believe me?"
Picard chuckled. "A woman once told me that a man will believe any story as long as he's the hero of it."
"Really?" She replied with a smile. "Who was this woman who so lightly gives away the greatest secrets of our sex?"
"She was the leader of an archaeological dig I worked on one summer as a student." He told her. "Her name was Dr River Song."
They turned to face each other, then. They were very close. Samara placed her palm on his chest.
"Jean-Luc, I have explored this magnificent vessel of yours from bridge to engine room. Everywhere I go, I see your mark. Everyone I speak to, from the smallest child in your nurseries to the most grizzled Chief Petty Officer, has nothing to say of you but what comes from admiration and respect. You effortlessly command the loyalty of your crew, from your fierce Klingon warrior to your oh-so-logical Vulcan, Dr Selar. I watched you during today's fight. You offered peace, in spite of what you knew of the Collectors -that speaks to compassion and principle. Yet in battle you did not hesitate. You put your ship and crew in harms' way for a race utterly alien to you, of whom you knew nothing, in a universe which is not yours. How can I not be impressed?
"And now I feel a desire I have not felt in many years. A desire to know someone completely, to share myself with them. We are neither of us young, by the account of our different species, but that means only that we have more to give. Come with me now, Jean-Luc. Let us embrace eternity together."