USS THOREAU: CRISIS OF CONSCIENCE

by MarylandWriter

Captain Xavier "Chip" Rasmussen and crew of the USS Thoreau are redirected away from an overdue shore leave to assist with the emergency evacuation of an oddly positioned space station in distress. What seems at first to be a routine mission raises questions in the Captain's mind. Namely, why has a station been built in such close proximity to an anomalous black hole? (TNG Era.)

MISSIONS OF THE USS THOREAU

SPRINGFIELD CLASS STARSHIP, CREW COMPLIMENT 450

CAPTAIN XAVIER "CHIP" RASSMUSSEN COMMANDING

Captain's Log

We have received emergency orders to head for the Novuum Set system to transport and aid medical personnel in an evacuation of a space station in the neighboring uninhabited Novuum Set II system. Details of the emergency remain sketchy at this point as it has occurred only within the last several hours, and we are the closest ship capable of rendering the needed aid.

The Novuum being one of the most recent members of the Federation, they are perhaps fortunate that we were in the broad vicinity today, though it means putting off our planned shore leave at Starbase Meridian for rest and repairs from our previous assignment.

The crew is overworked, especially medical, but I foresee a rather straightforward and ultimately short-lived detour that the crew is more than capable of handling with their usual excellence.

Dr. Zexa has already begun work on converting the shuttle bay into an emergency sick bay, and is more than qualified to help spearhead the effort with typical Edosian multitasking prowess.

Captain Rasmussen stood in the center of the bridge of the Thoreau, gazing out the viewfinder.

"ETA," he said.

"Arrival at the Novuum Set system in 3 hours, 31 minutes, Captain," the young Bajoran helmsman answered.

"Incoming subspace message, Captain. It's from the Novuum government," Lt. Van Ness informed him.

"On screen."

An obviously harried and weary man, looking like Father Time's younger brother, complete with long beard even whiter than Rasmussen's hair, and requisite eye ridges of the Novuum appeared.

"Federation vessel," he said, "I am Han Arr, Science Secretary of the Novuum."

"Captain Xavier Rasmussen of the Federation Starship Thoreau. We are in route to your emergency."

"Much to our relief, Captain, but be warned. We now have word that copious amounts of ionizing radiation are flooding the entire station as a result of an explosion near the stabilization systems. Exercise appropriate cautions and containment procedures."

"Understood. Anything else you can tell us would be extremely helpful."

"You are aware of the black hole I assume."

"Black hole?" the Captain asked. He glided his thumb over his forefinger as he contemplated the implications. "No, we were not."

The Secretary blinked his bleary eyes. "I don't know how that knowledge escaped your briefing, Captain. But our second system is home to a highly localized and anomalous black hole. We've been aware of it in the prime system for centuries and have studied, or thought we studied it thoroughly in that time. It would appear, tragically, we have not."

"Are you saying the black hole had something to do with the accident?"

"We are sending all information about the oddity to you now on this same subspace channel. For now that's all we have though more reports will come in soon. On the whole, precise maneuvers are required to safety navigate near the station. Good luck, Captain."

"We will need it, Secretary. Rasmussen out." He turned to the helmsman. "All stop, ensign."

"Aye sir, all stop."

The low-grade undercurrent of humming engines declined several octaves and faded entirely.

"Problem, sir?" asked the ship's Ardanan First Officer, Commander Pladro. He stood from his chair and approached Rasmussen.

"I don't like talk of this black hole. Why build an entire station within a system that has any black hole let alone an anomalous variety?"

"Unusual, certainly," Pladro answered. "But not unheard of. Particularly in the wake of meticulous planning."

"It would appear that is exactly what the Novuum failed to achieve. Bridge to engineering."

"T-Shol here," came the voice over the comms link.

"Estimated time to fully restore impulse engines."

"Approximately 5 hours, Captain," she answered, adding, "with a full team."

"I'd like to see it happen in 3, Commander."

"Understood."

"Without impulse engines there's no way we can maneuver within transporter range of the station," Rasmussen said. "Pladro, I want you to oversee preparations of every shuttle craft for extended duty in case we need to evacuate manually. That includes the captain's yacht. I want to start shuttling as soon as we reach the outer edges of the system."

"Aye, sir."

Pladro exited the bridge into the turbo lift, the doors hissing closed behind him.

"Hail Admiral San on a secure subspace channel, Lieutenant Van Ness. Put it through to my ready room."

"Aye, sir," answered the security chief.

Rasmussen sat behind his desk a moment later, flipping absentmindedly through the pages of an Earth poetry book with his thumb. Though he had no evidence to present on the matter, he nonetheless suspected the Novuum government had been less than forthcoming, both in the face of the present crisis, and in reports to the Federation during its crucial early days of membership.

"Admiral San on subspace channel," Van Ness called over the comm link in the ready room.

"Patch him in, Lieutenant."

The shining bald pate of Rear Admiral San blipped onto the Captain's desk viewfinder.

"Chip," San said. "I thought you'd have your hands full over there."

"You bet I do. That's the problem. We need another ship to aid in the evac operation. Anything you can spare with capable transporter. I'm have a shift away from getting our impulse engines and thrusters back online. From what I hear the station doesn't have that kind of time, and I'm not willing to coast into orbit out of warp based on math and inertia alone."

"You were the only ship even near that end of the sector, Chip. I don't know how fast anyone else can get there."

"As fast as they can. I'm preparing shuttle craft for docking evacuations, but I've no doubt transporters are the way to go if we can. Ionized radiation is leaking. Transporter screening would certainly help matters."

"Radiation? First I'm hearing of it."

"The Novuum science secretary only just now reached us with the information."

San sighed, punched a button or two just outside of the screen shot. "I can send the Annapolis, but I'd have to pull them from some delicate data collection missions. They'd probably have to begin over again."

"I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't think it weas necessary. I think there may be more to all of this then we've been led to believe, and I would hate to put more lives at risk."

Three thick folds appeared on the Admiral's forehead as he squinted at the Captain's words. "How do you mean more than we've been led to believe?"

"An anomalous blackhole interfered with their machinery protocol's because of a miscalculation of some kind, leading to the accident. Admiral, they've been aware of the presence of that black hole since before they even had warp capabilities. Can any black hole be so anomalous as to surprise every scientist on board a space station that was over a year in the making?"

"Done all of your homework and everybody else's, as usual, Captain. What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, yet. But if there is to be any doubt as to the free flow of information, I'd rather not risk experimental maneuvers just to park my tub into an already risky situation. Especially since I'm being sent here on so little crew rest from our last directive."

He didn't like to bring up his crew fatigue and normally would not. He would have even kept the obvious fact out of the conversation if the Thoreau's shore leave had been delayed by nothing more than a standard evacuation medical mission. But it was already one step removed from standard, and Rasmussen felt certain it would take at least another step away before it took a step back to normal.

Admiral San sighed once again. Rasmussen leaned back into his chair, but maintained eye-contact with his superior.

"I'll contact the Annapolis. Captain Sada won't like it."

"I'll owe her one." The Captain cocked his head. "Possibly two."

"Keep me advised, Captain. San out."

The emblem of the Federation replaced the flag officer on Rasmussen's view screen.

CAPTAIN'S LOG

It shouldn't surprise me that T'Shol has gotten impulse engines back online just in enough time to maneuver around the Novuum Set black hole. However, she continues to amaze and deliver far beyond expectations, even for a Vulcan. As a result, Captain Sada and the Annapolis need only remain on standby mode should we need assistance. That should put a smile on her face for a change.

Scans of the station indicate less than 4 hours before ionizing radiation fills the station; our evacuation work remains cut out for us. Thankfully the shuttle bay stands ready to accommodate all evacuees regardless of health status.

Meanwhile the preliminary readings on this system's blackhole certainly adhere to the "anomalous" descriptor, as there is nothing like it in Starfleet database. Makes me wonder how or why a station was built in such close proximity to it. A mere general sensor scan would have precluded it from even being attempted by most other Federation worlds. What do the Novuum know about it that we don't, and why don't we know it yet?

And how did they know it? Surely they have no scanning technology to rival the best sensor array in all of Starfleet at my command. If they have such technology they are hiding it from the rest of the Federation illegally.

Be that as it may I am anxious to collect some imagery and data of our own on this black hole for further study.

But first things first. The scientific inquiries will have to wait until the evacuation of the station is completed.

#

For most of the crew, the evacuation of the doomed space station went by in a frenzied blur. Dr. Zexa, all three of her arms wildly gesticulating, directing, and triaging incoming causalities and others resembled nothing so much as an orchestral conductor attempting the most complicated of symphonies, yet revealing not one ounce of sweat or concern on her green skin.

True sickbay she had reserved for the most severe of the wounded, relegating the less seriously injured or the uninjured to the main shuttle bay. (Fortunately, one of the largest in the fleet.)

Captain Rasmussen remained on the bridge, monitoring the safety of both the vessel and the rapidly emptying station, making sure that one did not affect the other, and keeping an eye on any unusual activity from the still poorly understood blackhole.

It was the blackhole that, if anything, occupied lingering components of his mind not focused directly on the operation at hand.

Why here? If there is such a thing as a standard black hole, one in such close proximity would certainly preclude station construction. Did they believe that because it was odd, or even unique, that it posed less as opposed to more of a threat? Then again, there the station stood, for over a year, without incident. What was different about today, and how did the black hole suddenly play into it?

"Bridge to sick bay," Rassmussen called as he sat for the first time in hours. "Status report."

"About 90% of all occupants aboard," came Dr. Zexa's reply. "Those with life threatening injuries are all secure in sick bay."

"Fatalities?"

"None since coming aboard. It looks like seven dead in the incident itself."

"How much more time before all are aboard and secure?"

"Thirty to 40 minutes, Captain."

"Well done, doctor. Keep me informed. Rasmussen out."

Commander Rangmot chimed in from ops. "The ionizing radiation has now spread to all regions of the station, captain. The speed of the evacuation indicates none will remain on board long enough for acute exposure regardless."

"Acknowledged."

For a minute nobody spoke, the bridge filled only with the occasional beep of a readout, or the ever present subterranean engine hum. During this time Rasmussen rubbed his right thumb and forefinger together at increasing speed. He gazed at the image of the emptying station on the viewfinder a few more moments.

"Center the black hole. Enhance and magnify."

Rangmot tapped at his bridge console. The black hole took the center of the viewscreen, Rangmot's visual enhancements casting a false shadow of the station in the foreground, rendering it less visible now.

"On screen, sir."

"Certainly looks typical," Commander Pladro observed. "Smaller, maybe. Tighter around the edges, finer horizon than most. Yet unpredictable enough even after centuries of study to throw off the entire Novuum science corps."

"So we're told," said Rasmussen, as much to himself as to his crewmates. He stopped rubbing his finger and thumb. "If there's anybody left down there not working on the evac, ready a high-density probe, and calibrate the sensors. I want a better look at this thing as soon as the rest of this is over with."

Rangmot stood from ops and again left the bridge, replaced right away by a human lieutenant from the science stations at the back of the bridge.

Rasmussen looked over at his first officer, but addressed the bridge at large. "If it's still that much of an enigma even to those in its home system, there's much to learn about it. I'd hate to leave here without collecting at least some data, even if I wasn't confused about some of the Novuum's choices."

"If there's anything to be seen, we'll see it," Pladro said with noted enthusiasm.

"Ensign, return viewscreen to normal. I'll be in my ready room. Inform me when the evacuation is complete, and when the probe is ready."

"Aye."

The Captain stepped once again into the ready room.

Commander Rangmot oversaw the small but dedicated team of three in the science deck, calibrating the probe for eventual launch into the black hole.

"Adjust for density variance," he instructed one of the science officers, a stout Tumarian with the rare extra sub-horn in the middle of his head. "Compensate telemetry guidance by a factor of, I'd say 2.3 for the time being."

"2.3?" said this Tamarian. "For a blackhole scan?"

"An anomalous blackhole, Lieutenant," Rangmot added. "Even that may be insufficient."

"Not if my improvements pan out," the Tamarian said. "I've been developing extra subroutines hoping for a chance just like this."

"You may try one new subroutine. The rest will have to wait for a more standard scan."

"But Commander…"

"An order, Lieutenant. Captain Rasmussen was very specific about collecting data from this thing."

"Oh, he'll collect data all right," the Tamarian said, almost singing. "dimensions he's not considered before, yes even with only one experimental subroutine." He passed to the other side of the awaiting probe and mumbled, "though we could have a lot more, I think."

Rangmot tapped the console of the probe as he stepped toward the turbolift. "Within the hour, one subroutine."

"Aye commander," answered all science officers as they proceeded with their adjustments and calculations.

#

On the bridge, Rasmussen ordered one final scan of the station once the final evacuee was beamed aboard, to determine any outside threat to passersby or his own ship.

"Sensors read no compromising external damage to that station," reported Lt. Van Ness.

"Establish a warning beacon in case anybody stumbles onto this before decontamination begins," ordered Commander Pladro. "And boundary markers at about 12 compass points around the black hole wouldn't hurt either."

"Aye, Commander."

"Agreed," said the Captain. "And we should have just enough time to launch the high-density probe toward the black hole to pick up more readings before we take the evacuees home. Mr. Rangmot, if you would do the honors."

"Certainly, sir. Releasing high density probe into the black hole's outer rim. Stabilizers and compensators on full. Entering the event horizon in 60 seconds."

The bridge crew watched as the passing probe sailed towards and then into the black hole's outer rim. They observed its distortion, and awaited the first data read outs.

And waited.

And discovered nothing. Nothing to report back from the probe.

"Mr. Rangmot," the Captain said, "the probe was fully functional? Calibrated for high gravity dispersal?"

"Indeed sir," said Rangmot. "I checked the indications myself before returning to the bridge. Every indication we have is that the probe is doing its job, and is simply unable to detect anything."

"Nothing? Nothing at all? No data of any kind?" asked Pladro.

"None sir. Not even basic proportionality. Captain, whatever the nature of this black hole may be, it is alluding our probe. As well as our ship scanners."

Rasmussen glanced at his first officer, and then approached the ops console. He rested his hand on Rangmot's shoulder. "Zero readings? With this sensor array?"

"Affirmative Captain," Rangmot answered. "It would appear than even the Thoreau is not advanced enough to gather any data from this black hole."

"Helm back us away, steady as she goes," Rasmussen ordered. "I don't want my ship close enough to a black hole that highly localized with so little data to define it. But you know what else this means, Pladro?"

"That you sure as hell wouldn't build a space station anywhere near the same system as that."

"Exactly. Exactly."

"I take it you are no longer suggesting nothing," Pladro asked.

"Nothing substantive. I'm going to have a conversation with the station's Administrator on our way back to their home world. I want to find out what he knows that Starfleet doesn't. In the mean time turn these supposedly superior scanners on full and sweep both the station and the dead planet underneath. I want to know about even the slightest indication the Novuum have new sensor technology."

"I am sorry, Captain, but for the time being the station's Administrator is a critical condition patient."

Dr. Zexa was taking three separate tricorder readings while maintaining full eye contact with Rasmussen. He'd never entirely gotten used to her specie's extreme multitasking capabilities.

"Any notion on when he will be well enough for a conversation? This is important, Doctor."

"As is his recovery, Captain. He is still a patient in my sick bay."

Rasmussen sighed. "Of course he is. But please, the sooner he can withstand some questions the better off everyone will be. I'm not willing to leave their home world, barring some life-threatening emergency once we get there, until I have some answers."

"I understand, Captain, and I will keep you informed as always."

A beat passed between the Captain and the Chief Medical officer. Rassmussen asked, "What do we know about the worst of the injured?"

Zexa put down one tricorder, and adjusted buttons on a bedside console. "The majority of the major injuries and all of the deaths took place in the engineering section of the station. Mostly plasma burns and acute radiation poisoning from an explosion of some kind."

Rasmussen rubbed his thumb again. "Why would so many senior members of the station's crew be in engineering at a time like that? Not to mention how unusual it is for such high rates of ionizing radiation for the size of the engine."

With two of her hands occupied, the doctor managed the equivalent of a shrugging gesture with her one free arm. "It would not be the first mass causality event that made no sense to begin with."

"Amen to that." Rasmussen looked around the sick bay, nodded and told the Doctor, "keep me abreast of the Administrator's condition."

Captain's Log

The evacuation of the Novuum science station being accomplished, I made good on my desires to gather data on the unusual black hole within the system. The most interesting result of such a sweep? Nothing. Literally not a single reading upon which to base any further knowledge of the black hole. This alone puzzled me enough to doubt either the superiority of the Thoreau's sensor array, or the sanity of the Novuum to build a station within a system containing such a phenomenon. I had hoped to talk to the Station Administrator about some of these concerns, but he currently is recovering from severe injuries sustained in an apparent explosion that kicked off this entire crisis. I shall speak to him when the Doctor allows it. One of the first inquires will be whether the Novuum have developed sensor capabilities that rival Starfleet's own.

Or if they have lost their collective minds as a race. In the meantime, the Vice-Administrator is less injured and is willing to talk to me; his knowledge of procedure will have to suffice for now.

"Believe me Captain, I'm sure the Administrator, myself, the entire station and certainly the Science Secretary would be thrilled if it had been our own people to come up with a sensory array breakthrough of such magnitude." The Vice-Administrator, with a beeping bone fuser still attached to his arm as he spoke ran a nervous free hand through a thick bush of black hair on top of his head. "But it's nothing of the kind. All we are guilty of is a bit of hubris, for which we are paying quite dearly today."

The Vice-Administrator's voice trailed off as he looked past Captain Rasmussen and out the window of the ready room where the condemned station glistened in the Novuum sun.

"I make no accusations, Vice-Administrator. But as a Starfleet Captain and representative of the Federation you surely understand my concerns as well as my confusion."

"I do. And I hope to have alleviated both somewhat. Our conversation combined with the results of the sensor sweep of the planet and the station you no doubt should suffice, surely?"

Rasmussen himself looked over his shoulder out his ready room window onto the station below before facing the Vice-Administrator again. "An overworked coil, you said. How was that due to the lack of data on the black hole?"

"Foolish as it seems now, our scientists calculated the required stabilizer capacity to keep the station out of the black hole's gravity field based on observable visual data alone, knowing we had no technology to survey the event horizon. It all went fine during construction. Only during the attempted demonstration of our energy source did the graviton field destabilize our oscillator. The coil tried to compensate but was not only faulty but unsuited for the task. Hence the explosion into the core above, the radiation leak, and.." he gestured to his arm, "everything else."

The ready room door alert chimed. "Enter."

Commander Rangmot with a tablet. "Full sensory sweeps complete on the station and the planet, Captain. No unusual technologies detected." He handed the tablet to Rasmussen.

"I see. Dismissed, Mr. Rangmot."

Rangmot turned and exited the ready room.

"Perhaps now you will believe me," said the Vice-Administrator.

"I had no cause to doubt you word before this." Rasmussen placed the tablet on his desk. "But why? Why take the particular risk of building a station? Why the hubris as you called it. To what end?"

The Vice-Administrator ran his free hand through his hair again. "Captain I am sure you understand how I don't feel at liberty to fully reveal the nature of our plans and purpose. I amount to a civil-servant. The Administrator is the government appointee."

Rasmussen nodded. "Hopefully an appointee that makes a full recovery, for a number of reasons. Thank you, Vice-Administrator. Rest now, I am sure that arm is still aching regardless."

"Thank you, Captain. If there is anything more I feel at liberty to say or do, I will help in any way I can."

He left the ready room. A few beats later so did Captain Rasmussen.

"I want security beacons broadcasting on all frequencies about the black hole and the quarantine. 100,000 kilometer radius."

"Aye, Captain," Rangmot said between punching away at his console."

"Van Ness, advise the Novuum government we are now leaving the…"

An alert buzzer emanated from the security chief's console. "Captain we have an unauthorized transport to the station from transporter room two. Two lifeforms."

"What the hell?" Rasmussen moved around to the console to see for himself. "Find out who, and how. Get them back."

"You need not look far Captain Rasmussen." The station's Vice-Administrator exited the turbo life back onto the bridge. "I assure you right now; one of them is my son."

The entire bridge crew paused briefly in their emergency duties to look toward the Vice-Administrator as he delivered the shocking news.

"He's actually my step son, as your culture might call it," The Vice-Administrator added.

"How did you know it was him? What does he want?" asked Van Ness from behind her security console.

Rasmussen ignored the slight breach in protocol, as he often did, instead adding his voice to the inquiry. "We all deserve an answer to both questions as soon as we've secured the station."

"They've scrambled transporter buffering on their end. We can't get through," Van Ness answered.

"He's been radicalized by a fringe movement among our people for the last two years," at the Vice-Administrator. "He's espoused some rather isolationist positions, but I never imagined he would do something like this."

"Radicalized how? To what end?" asked the Captain.

"Mostly a hands-off approach with other polities, possibly leaving the Federation. His party, the Bonnat, has few seats in our government, but has captured more attention among the public over the last few years. That is how he came to be associated with them."

"How would boarding a station in the middle of deadly radiation advance even the most liberal interpretation of those positions?"

The Vice-Administrator shook his head. "I wish I knew, Captain. Thus far the Bonnat have not engaged in terrorist activities." He sighed. "Perhaps he hopes to achieve some kind of martyr status. Perhaps if I were to talk to him—"

"Neither of them is answering hails," Van Ness reported.

"Lieutenant," Captain Rasmussen said," See to it that all of our guests are confined to the sick bay or the shuttle bay until we resolve this. Make sure none of them are loose on the ship right now. That, I'm afraid includes you for now, Vice.-Administrator. And I want the name of that transport officer damn quickly."

"Aye, Captain," Van Ness said as she stepped toward the turbo lift. "Vice-Administrator, if you will follow me please?"

The Novuum looked toward the Captain as though about to protest, but apparently lost the nerve, and acquiesced by following Van Ness into the turbo lift.

"Come to the conference room when you return, Lieutenant."

"Understood, sir."

The turbo lift whizzed shut.

"All senior staff report to conference room immediately," The Captain ordered.

Pladro and Rangmot stood sharply and followed the Captain toward the conference room.

CAPTAIN'S LOG

The situation has devolved in mere moments from an unorthodox evacuation with lingering questions, to an all-out security event, as one of our own transport officers has apparently aided the son of the station Vice-Administrator in an illegal transport back to the station. The son, called Von, so we are told, is part of a growing radical isolationist movement among the Novuum known as the Bonnat. The connection to that movement's demands, and what particular action the two of them hope to take in the deadly atmosphere of the station is unknown. I've assembled a conference to discuss options that will hopefully preserve the lives of everyone involved.

"Barring total destruction of the station," said Van Ness, folding their hands on the conference table, "tactical options are limited. If keeping them both alive is priority, I'd say non-existent. A security team incursion would have better success in normal circumstances, but with the radiation…" She opened her palms in resignation.

"Which brings me to my next question," Captain Rasmussen said. "Doctor, is there anyway to mitigate the effects of the ionizing radiation exposure, even temporarily? Long enough to send a team over to neutralize them?"

Zexa blinked slowly several times. "It would require highly experimental drug combinations in little time. Perhaps too little time to make a difference in this case. I wouldn't give either one of them much more than two hours before fatal exposure, and they've already been in there close to 30 minutes as is. I can't help them beyond that."

"Then expedite the experimental process, and cross reference any and all species of adults on the ship, all departments. We'll classify the entire mission as high risk and ask for volunteers first."

"I'll start work now. But Captain, with a team already exhausted from the last mission and the evacuation…"

"I have every faith doctor."

Zexa paused, but turned and left for sick bay.

"Marie, what do we know about this transporter officer?"

Van Ness brough a service record onto the conference room screen. "Lieutenant Lanar, from Riza. Only been assigned to the Thoreau for a month or so. No disciplinary actions previous to this. No outstanding mental health issues. Commendable if not exemplary service. Nothing in his past to even suggest radical political leanings or any connection to the Novuum."

"Keep looking. Check all personal records and logs. Dig as deep as you need to, but I want answers on why he did this. And I want any information the Novuum have on this Von." Rasmussen said. "I'll twist arms if I have to, but I want to know who the hell he is and what he's up to. See if he's ever so much as been in orbit around the same planet as Lanar." He stood up followed by the rest of the senior staff.

In sickbay Zexa once again had all three of her arms full. Not wanting to sacrifice care for any of the injured and sick she placed her chief nurse in charge of direct care, authorizing him to make all but the direst of medical decisions which Zexa herself concentrated on the expedited experimentation ordered by the captain.

"Download every single file in Starfleet medical related to treatment of acute ionized radiation poisoning," she told her team. "Highlight any physiological information for the top five species on the ship. For now disregard any species represented by only one or two crew members. Run simulations on every station not otherwise occupied with active care. We'll take over the holodecks if required. Remember we're not curing it, merely looking to stave off fatal acute radiation poisoning for as long as we can. Go."

The exhausted team dragged itself right away to their various responsibilities.

Back on the bridge, Lt. Commander Zangmot ran calculations at his ops console for scenarios less and less likely to neutralize the situation when sensor alerts beeped on top of his work. He called up the information.

"Captain, I have new information coming in from our probes of the black hole."

Rasmussen shot out of his chair toward ops. "Explain. I thought we could read nothing."

"We couldn't" Rangmot explained. "In a sense we still cannot, but we're receiving a sort of refractive sensory triangulation between our probes, ships sensors and certain dimensions within the black hole. It's a sort of vague feedback giving us a broad range of gravimetric data. There's a cylindrical mass of enormous gravity. Unprecedented in fact."

"Why did the sensors not detect it after the initial probe launch?" Pladro asked from his first officer's chair."

Rangmot shook his head. "It seems to be fluctuating. Varying in size and depth." He looked up at the Captain. "It is gone now sir."

Rasmussen stepped back and looked at the station through the view screen in front of him. "Commander, if such an unusual gravimetric fluctuation within a black hole were to occur at regular intervals—"

"It could in theory weaponize gravity itself," Van Ness offered from her station.

"Or radiation," Rangmot added. "Though the calculations would be considerable."

"But not impossible?" Rasmussen asked.

"No sir. Not impossible."

"Open a channel to the station."

"Open," Van Ness said.

Captain Rasmussen focused his attention on the image of the station as he spoke. "Station this is Rasmussen. You're not replying but you damn well are going to listen. We know about the cylindrical gravimetrics within the black hole. If we stumbled onto it, others might have, but we assure you our sensors are more powerful, and reveal more about the nature of the anomaly, what it is capable of. Your intentions may not be clear yet, but the possible consequences are clear if this information is in the wrong hands."

"Captain, the station is hailing us now," Van Ness said.

"On screen."

A blonde young man in the tan Starfleet uniform of transporter operators appeared on screen.

"Lieutenant Lanar," Rasmussen intoned.

"No need to guess at our intentions Captain Rasmussen," the Risian said. "We intend to destroy this entire star system, blackhole included. I suggest you depart at maximum warp right away."

Captain's Log

My grandfather would tell me to never assume the worst, and to never assume it can never get worse. Never have I experienced the truth of that advice more than today: Lt. Lanar has spoken to me of his intentions to help Von destroy the entire Novuum Set II star system. And while humanoid casualties would remain low to zero, destruction on such a drastic scale is as unfathomable as it is unconscionable.

A fortuitous sensor positioning quirk revealed this unusual graviton cylinder fluctuation that would make such destruction possible. However the purpose and procedure of this terrorism remains unknown. All that is known is that both men are willing to give up their lives to succeed.

That I cannot allow, and to that end, Dr. Zexa and her already exhausted team are working double quick to develop any mitigating treatment for ionizing radiation on a temporary basis to allow for a boarding party to put an end to the madness.

"How the hell does an evacuation turn into a sector wide red alert in only a few hours?"

Admiral San's bald head blushed a shade of red. Whether because of anger, shock or both Rasmussen couldn't say—only that he had rarely seen the Admiral like this before. Worse, every time he had expressed himself this way, the danger justified the concern.

"We are working every angle as fast as circumstances will allow, Admiral." Rasmussen glided his right thumb over his other fingers under his desk as he spoke. "But it is crucial Starfleet reveal anything to us, anything at all which might shed light on the situation or those involved."

"I've told you everything intelligence has, Captain. I need you to start telling me things. Namely how you plan to put an end to this."

"That depends on what I'm authorized to do."

San seemed to stare deeply into the viewscreen, willing his physical presence into the ready room. "Captain, I am authorized to order you to take whatever action is required against any party to prevent this weaponization of the black hole."

"I suppose back up from any Federation—"

"I already sent the Annapolis back to her original course. Nobody is getting there in time. It's up to you. Member nation or not we cannot allow the full scale destruction of an entire solar system. Not even an empty one. A breach of that magnitude would bruise Starfleet's galactic reputation for a century. More. It is your first and only priority until the situation is resolved."

"With all due respect, Admiral, my primary duty is to the safety of my crew. Now I will personally go to any lengths within my power to stop this…whatever it is. But I will send the Thoreau and its crew away to safety in the event that I fail."

"That kind of direct martyrdom is a luxury you cannot afford. We have no idea what else this…this…gravitation cylinder radiation combination business has in store or for who."

"You know I understand the stakes, Admiral. But if I cannot secure the desired outcome I will not allow my crew to pay for it, even if sacrificing them means success."

A tense moment passed between the two officers as San's hairless scalp turned a darker shade of red. Finally he said. "Don't fail," and cut off the transmission.

"Rasmussen to Doctor Zexa."

"Zexa here."

"I am coming to sick bay to speak to the station Administrator now. And I will be doing so regardless of his condition as long as he is conscious and able to speak."

After a pause Zexa said, "Understood, Captain."

"Status of the new radiation treatments."

"I'm running simulations on both holodecks and every console in sickbay plus a few in main engineering. A trend is developing but I will need more time to—"

"An hour, doctor. Inform your staff I am coming. Rasmussen out."

Captain passed through the bridge on his way to the turbolift to take him to sick bay. On his way he ordered Van Ness to come up with any weapons-based solution to the issue, regardless of how messy, though starting with non-lethal options. He made pains to indicate that plans need not be limited to that.

Further he wanted ideas as to how the information about the graviton cylinder and everything else could be used to destroy the system, and speculate on additional uses for such a technology.

Down in the sick bay, the station Administrator remained weak, but conscious. The head nurse, running the intensive care of the worst patients while Zexa lead the vaccines team advised the Captain no more than 15 minutes before giving the patient a rest.

"I tell you I don't know what his plans are," the Administrator said. "Though I never fully trusted him being on board, I was over ruled. If he does anything to my station—"

"Station?" Rasmussen asked. "Station. My own wayward Lieutenant is planning to help Von use that station to destroy the entire solar system. Quite frankly the station itself is among my lesser concerns for the moment."

The Administrator stared at Rasmussen, tried to sit up but groaned in pain and fell back down onto his medical cot. "Whole system? That zealot?"

"I think it's time you explain to me just what the purpose of the station is, Administrator, or we will all face difficulties far greater than losing it."

"But I've told you everything. You already know why we built it. To expedite and monitor—"

"A potential manned colony for study on the Class O planet, below yes, yes that is all well and good as an official answer. But something is at stake here far beyond colonizing one of your own long empty planets. Something nobody is telling us about. Now if I do not get a firmer understanding of the security protocols for the station and a history of your government building it in such a volatile part of this system, it will all become academic in just less than two hours."

The Administrator spoke through a weak grin. "Captain, cannot simply reveal all of the secrets and plans of my government to you. I have this job for a reason."

"You're laying in this hospital bed for a reason. A reason based on whatever unruly, irresponsible and criminally secretive business you were attempting to conduct without the Federation's full knowledge as required by the rules of membership. That station was not hung within the grip of the least stable blackhole in the sector to be foreman's office over the construction of your damned manned colony. Now you tell me what it was you were doing that actually caused this fiasco so I can attempt to fix it, or you'll find yourself fixing your relationship with a lot of disgruntled and disgusted members of Starfleet command as well as the Federation Council."

Sick bay crew, as well as the conscious and semi-conscious other patients observed the Captain in silence interrupted only by a ragged cough from one the wounded.

The crew members were taken aback to see their Captain in such a state as he had rarely displayed during his entire command of the ship.

For his part the Administrator tried once, twice again to sit up and either answer or confront Rasmussen, but he fell back onto his back twice, the second time causing lights and sensors to broadcast their warnings.

"Sir, please," said the head nurse. "I'm afraid more confrontation could kill him," he whispered.

Rasmussen looked at the seemingly unconscious administrator.

"Bridge to Captain Rasmussen," came over his com-link. He tapped it.

"Go ahead."

"We've come up with some major developments you need to see regarding the black hole."

"Meet me in the conference room again. Include all bridge staff."

"Aye sir."

"As you were," Rasmusen announced to sick bay. He exited.

Lt. Commander Rangmot gestured and swiped over to contents of the main view screen in the conference room.

"What we believe is that the episodic nature of the graviton cylinder is predictable. Calculable based on our observations over the last several hours. If a high power source of ionized radiation were calibrated just so, emitting a broad band pulse with enough regularity, a sort of polarity reversal could occur, in theory."

"Meaning a potential planetary sized phaser blast," Commander Pladro concluded out loud.

"I'd compare it more to a disruptor, but in essence yes," Rangmot said. "Take a hell of a lot of maintenance, but something large enough could direct such a pulse anywhere in a near 360 degree scope, spanning for several million kilometers, maybe more."

"Something like a space station," Rasmussen said.

"That's what we're thinking sir."

Rasmussen, with his thumb between his first to fingers pressed his fist down quietly onto the conference table. "And this long range mega weapon is what you're saying the Novuum were attempting in putting the station in what at first appeared to be a highly dangerous position in the system."

Rangmot shrugged. "I can't speak to their mindset, sir, but this is the best, really the only use of these components in these circumstances we could come up with.

"Any other uses at all besides an offensive weapon?" Commander Pladro asked.

"Mining or excavating maybe. On an enormous scale. Entire planets at a time. And not at all limited to this system."

"I'm not so concerned about what they were planning," Rasmussen said. "Either use of such power, or any other for that matter presents troubling security risks across the quadrant and beyond."

Van Ness leaned into the conference table, hands folded in front of them. "Lieutenant Lanar must have found out about the possibility. He agrees with you, in a weird way, Captain. He wants to stop this at the cost of his career. His life."

"Could be a crisis of conscience," Pladro suggested. "Our crewman knows the potential, as we've just discovered, gets assigned to the ship, hoping for a chance."

"But how could he know we would be called over here?" Van Ness asked. "And why not just blow the station up instead of threatening the entire system?"

Rasmussen put his hand up. Quiet followed. "The accident, Commander Rangmot."

Rangmot nodded and swiped the view screen again. A moving diagram appeared. "Best we can tell, an attempt to activate the tool or weapon whatever we're calling it resulted in a graviton loop or fissure…enough to put a strain on one of the coils leading to its break and the containment leak via explosion, in engineering."

"Which would explain why so many of the senior staff were present near the engine instead of their normal places during the accident," Van Ness said.

"That's where I'm putting my money," Rangmot said. He shut off the view screen and took his usual seat at the conference table.

Rasmussen rubbed his fingers over the smooth black surface of the table. The ensuing silence ended as the doors wished open, and Doctor Zexa came in. "Captain, we think we have something." She held up a hypospray in one of her hands.

"Explain."

"A vaccine, though that's using the term loosely. It slows cellular degeneration brought on by prolonged exposure to ionizing radiation. 94% of all simulations suggest success within perimeters."

"I can live with that number. How long will it last?"

"That depends on the species. As it turns out, in humans it has a very modest effect, a few minutes at most. And while promising in several species, everything indicates it will work most effectively on Betazoids."

"We have nine of them on board, sir," Pladro said. "But as I recall two sets of grandparents. We can't ask them."

"And one less than a month from delivering a new born," Zexa said.

"That gives us a team of four," Rasmussen said.

"Three in Starfleet," Pladro said, skimming quickly through a viewfinder on the table. "One civilian."

Rasmussen tapped his fingers on the table. "Summon all four of them, Lieutenant Van Ness. Brief them on everything, check their combat training status, and emphasize that time is of the essence. We'll see if we have a boarding party. Let's hail the station again. I think we have some information that might prove interesting to them."

After a few moments of open hailing frequencies to the space station, Lanar replied. "Captain, I told you, go while you can."

Rasmussen stood before the viewfinder. "You're in more trouble than I have time to explain, Mr. Lanar. But, I'm willing to put in a bid for consideration of conscientious disobedience if you agree to surrender now." He paused for effect. "We know how the station can act with the graviton cylinder. The ionizing radiation that can be weaponized. That is why you are doing this, is it not?"

Lanar, who looked over either shoulder continuously spoke in lower tones. "You need to leave, Captain. Don't involve the ship further. That's why I left when I did."

"They ship stays until I'm convinced there are no other options. But there are in fact other options. You surrender now, while there are no injuries on your head. You explain to the JAG what you felt you were accomplishing by abandoning your duties to Starfleet. We have enough information to convince them that there are activities beyond the scope of their official knowledge happening in this system. I assure you between that and the 7th Guarantee you will be treated fairly. But you must help me help you."

"You…you don't understand, Captain."

"Then help me understand. If I'm wrong about the science, the politics, explain it to me. Help me to see why you are not only throwing away your career, but your life. You had to know the radiation would kill you long before you could ever get back here. The magnitude of your dedication to all of this cannot, will not be overlooked. But it all starts here and now with an agreement to surrender in peace and return to the ship. Come."

Lanar flipped a switch on a console Rasmussen could not see. Pale, perspiring, running his hands through his hair absentmindedly Lanar cleared his throat. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Come," Rasmussen repeated. "We will find another way to stop all of this, I promise. Come."

Lanar panted. "My family. You'll notify them of what I am trying to do?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. You will even be allowed to explain it yourself if you just stand down and return to the ship while there is still time."

Lanar shook his head. Threw another switch. "All right," he said. "I'll—"

A screech as Lanar cried our and collapsed to the floor, victim of an obvious phaser blast. Behind him, Von, holding the weapon, looking as ill and exhausted as Lanar had. He approached closer to the viewfinder and looked into it. "This conversation is over, and so is this system." He ended the transmission.

Rasmussen looked back at Van Ness.

They shook their head. "I'm sorry, Captain. Lanar is dead."

The Captain turned back to the viewscreen, his thumb no longer rubbing his forefinger but hanging limp like the rest of his arm at his side. "Damn it to hell," he whispered.

Captain's Log

Lt. Lanar is dead. Murdered by Von just as he seemed ready to surrender himself. Misguided though he may have been, possibly guilty of criminal acts as he may have been, he was a member of my crew, and my willingness to cooperate in a civilized manner has evaporated. This entire thing ends now, even if I end with it.

"I cannot allow it, Captain."

Pladro followed Captain Rasmussen into the turbo lift having been given the bridge…a breech in protocol he had never before perpetrated.

"That is an order, Commander Pladro. Sick bay."

The turbo lift whirred to life.

"I cannot follow such an order, Captain, and surely you must know it."

"Your duty is to the ship and the crew over me, Pladro, and surely you know that. I'm not putting the crew or the ship at risk."

"You are knowingly choosing to place yourself in the middle of a dangerous, unpredictable situation that odds are will end in your incapacitation or death. That's exactly the sort of risk a ship's captain cannot take."

"I regret your lack of faith in my abilities Commander, and furthermore that is exactly the sort of risk a ship's captain must take. A risk we all signed up for when we joined Starfleet."

The doors to the turbolift wooshed open. Both men stepped out into the corridor.

"There has got to be a better way to neutralize the situation, one that doesn't require your life as a potential—"

"I'm not going to prolong this conversation, Commander. And I don't think you actually want to begin proceedings against me over this, do you?"

The question stopped Pladro in his tracks, as the Captain continued down the corridor. After a few paces, the Captain noted Pladro's absence and himself came to a halt. He turned back toward his first officer.

"It is not reflection on you, Commander. I've little reason to believe you will engage in a mutiny over this. I'm making a point to you. That point being that whether it be my life or the potential consequences from the crew, I will lead the landing party to the station myself, because I will not give a potential death order without being willing to follow it myself."

"Yes sir."

Rasmussen patted Pladro's shoulder. "When the time comes you will understand, that is if you don't already. I cannot believe you would do any less in my position."

The two said no more of it as they entered sick bay.

Sitting in the doctor's personal office, the four Betazoids, three men and one woman, the last of whom was the civilian, now dressed in a work jumpsuit.

One tall, lithe young officer, Drenen, had logged an exemplary pilioting record, and would fly the shuttle; Rasmussen had already determined that the smoother the initial stage of the operation, the better the rest would go, and had deferred the helm.

The other two men, both showing middle age but not yet passing it, were science officers, not likely used to potential combat situations, but trained in them as were all officers.

They stood as the Captain entered. "As you were," he said. "I want all of you to know that not only Starfleet, but I am personally grateful in ways I cannot express for now. You were asked because of your biology, but you answered because of your hearts, and I will never regret to potential sacrifice you are all making."

The speech was more than he'd intended to give in the moment, preferring to sum up a completed mission with emotion, as opposed to opening with same. Nonetheless the words were there, and they seemed to move the Betazoids, all of them standing a little straighter after the fact.

Doctor Zexa, perhaps sensing the further discussion was uncalled for, placed the five viles onto her desk. "I want to start off by reminding the Captain that he is human, and that this treatment did not test especially well with that species. I advise him that it may by him at most 20 minutes more before fatal exposure."

The Doctor had protested Rasmussen's intention to board the station as much as Commander Pladro had, but had given up further speeches in the interest of time.

"The Captain is so advised," he said. He glanced at Pladro. "Twice."

Pladro straightened his uniform. "I'll be on the bridge, monitoring the boarding party." He stepped out of the office, and out of sickbay a moment later.

"As for those more suited for this medicine," the Doctor went on, "You may experience a few minutes of dizziness of nausea as it takes effect, but it shouldn't last more than a few minutes. It will give each of you anywhere between one hour and 90 minutes more protection from acute radiation sickness. If you would please."

She indicated the four Betazoids form a line in front of her desk, at which times she administered three vaccines, one in each hand, at the same time, the fourth and the Captain's next.

"Blurred vision is usually the first sign of acute poisoning. Once that begins you will know you have little time left to leave, vaccine or not."

Everyone indicated their understanding.

"The radiation will likely render tricorders unusable," the Captain said to the Betazoids. "So we will have to rely on our own senses, and the floor plan I assume you've studied.

"Yes captain," said all four of them in unison."

"Your side arms will be waiting for you in shuttle bay two where we will depart to dock with the station manually in Shuttlecraft Emmerson."

"Won't he shoot at us?" asked the female Betazoid. Her voice, not wavering was nonetheless flavored with some fear not generally expressed by officers in Starfleet.

"I've spoken to the security chief, as well as others from the station. We've all agreed Von will have his hands far too full with what he is doing to worry about manning any of the station limited weapons. I've had shield capacity on the shuttlecraft enhanced for this mission, but I think it highly unlikely we will need it. Other questions?"

Rassmussen had folded the woman's somewhat emotional but fully understandable expression into a Q+A, in order to put her further at ease.

"Seeing none, shall we?" he gestured toward the exit. "Doctor. I will see you for post radiation treatment."

She nodded, though he wondered whether she thought any of them would be coming back.

Drenen piloted the shuttle craft out of the Thoreau's docking bay. "Raising augmented shields," he said. "Departing in 5 seconds."

"Acknowledged," replied the Thoreau's helmsman.

The meticulous docking procedure took longer than the flight itself, as they were making use of an obscure and rarely used bay in the station. It was one of the few security concessions the Administrator, still both ailing and obstinate had provided them of his own accord. It was in fact a minor security flaw in the station's designed that he was not at all proud to share.

"My crewman is dead," Rasmussen had said leaning into the bureaucrat's sick bed. "If you don't aid me now, I will simply torpedo the entire station and allow you to answer for its loss."

Only as a last resort would it ever come to that, and Rasmussen knew it. He also knew the Administrator had no clue that was the case. His semi-empty threat has gained him both a stern look from Doctor Zexa, and the information he requested.

As predicted, the shuttlecraft in encountered zero resistance during its flight and docking with the station."

"Go straight to the engine core," the Captain said just before they disembarked. "Watch for damage from the explosion. Go right to the adjacent corridor and try to shut it all down. It will take longer, but we cannot risk you going directly to the weapons systems, as that is likely where he is. I'll take care of him. Keep radio silence and remember your training. You have just over an hour. Good luck."

The doors to the shuttle opened, and the quintet stepped out into the dingy, forgotten corridor of the station before splitting in opposite directions at the first poorly lit junction.

Using his tricorder within the comm nerve center one deck above him, Rasmussen attempted to hijack the station's public address. But after several inefficient attempts at a sub routine with heavy radiation interference he abandoned the idea, opting to find Von on foot.

Ops, or main plasma conduit. It one of those two. He must be near the end, now, quite weak, possibly disoriented. He'll want to be near one of those two locations, to more quickly initiate the enhanced graviton field with full partisanship.

Rasmussen blinked away his odd choice of words at the end of his thought. He felt feverish already, possibly from the time spent trying to hack the comm system.

The effects of acute radiation were already upon him. He squinted his eyes closed, willing himself to focus through the discomfort before it became impossible.

It had begun to affect him, even with the vaccine, in far less time than he'd planned.

He opted to survey the plasma conduit assuming that this would allow for a more devastating if messy attack point. Though in his mind he also felt the choice was based at least in part on it being closer to his current location, and requiring less energy than reaching OPS.

Inching slowly along the walls of the small conduit, Rasmussen recited poetry in his head to prevent his mind from wandering, wandering, shutting down in the midst of the acute poison now coursing through his body.

I am nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody too?

A soft clink coming from just around the next corner halted his recitation. Phaser at the ready he stiffened, pressed himself further against the wall. Several hot labored breathes later he lunged around the corner.

"Von!"

His voice echoed through the conduit down to the figure, leaning against the wall and perspiring heavily on the floor, wires and other electronic viscera dangling from an open panel nearby.

Von did not immediately respond, but after a moment swung his face toward Rasmussen. Covered in red splotches and pale as Matrurian Paste.

Obviously in the final stages of ionizing radiation poisoning he spat, "Don't come any closer, Federation officer."

"It's finished, Von." Rasmussen aimed the phaser. "My crewman is dead at your hands. You're going to prison. But surrender to us now, and you could still live. We have sick bay on standby to treat us both."

Von shook his head in a somnolent, distracted manner. "You're as naïve as your transport officer if you think there's any chance of that."

Rasmussen closed the distance between the two of them, phaser at the ready. "Whatever he did or did not understand, he deserved better than to be murdered by a shot in the back. You think your movement will view you as some kind of noble martyr once they hear about that?"

"My father never understood the movement. Or me. Or you. Or this damned station and what the government really want to do with it. If I don't take the station and the system with me, they'll only try again. And again."

"Not now, not anything," Rassmussen said. "Any more." He corrected himself. "I have a team ready to bypass main engineering and shut down all power. You cannot win this. Come with me. Surrender and live."

Von breathed deeply several times. He lifted his empty near arm off the ground, suggesting surrender. But as he raised his further, arm, his left, his previously concealed hand revealed to be holding a small device. A remote sequencer of some kind. Crude but unmistakable to Rasmussen.

"They won't get the chance," Von panted.

With what had to be the last of his strength Von suddenly swung his foot at Rasmussen's side arm, knocking it out of his hand and sending it skipping down the corridor.

Rasmussen lunged at the remote detonating device, pinning Von's arms to the bulkhead, and thrashing it once, twice, three times against the metal with all of his own remaining energy.

Von held tight to the device as he rolled Rasmussen over and straddled him from above. Rasmusen reached up into Von's groin and squeezed. Von's groan and subsequent collapsed to the floor confirmed Rasmussen's estimation of Novuum male genitalia

The Captain leapt up and staggered down the conduit corridor and fell onto his lost phaser. By the time he spun around, intent on shooting Von with it, the latter had set off the remote sequencer and collapsed, eyes wide open and presumably dead to the floor.

Alarms and alerts rang in sequence through the station indicated a self-destruct sequence in progress in less than a minute, tied into the system destroying pulse, no doubt, that Von had rigged.

As Rasmussen ran down the corridor back toward the deck right above the obscure shuttle docking station he tapped his comm badge. "Rasmussen to Thoreau engage maximum warp in any direction away from the system immediately!"

He did not wait for the confirmation before switching his attention to the science team. "Captain to away team, have you completed your shutdown procedures?"

"Negative, negative," came the voice of what sounded like Drenen. "Destruction imminent."

"Can I do anything from plasma conduit 1? Repeat, away team, Von is neutralized, can anything by done from this corridor in the time remaining?"

"Uh, no. Yes, Captain, standby."

"There is no standing by, Lieutenant, now or never!"

A gut-wrenching three seconds passed on the countdown, leaving 29."

"Away team!"

"Full spread phaser on self-destruct as near as possible to the center of the conduit, sit. Then run like hell."

Rasmussen listened to the countdown tick away as he removed the panel on his phaser and entered the proper sequences. One of them. Two. Three as the countdown clicked down to 15 seconds. He heaved the phaser, itself set to ten seconds and sprinted down the conduit with everything he had, his eyesight blurring dramatically under the exertion.

"Rasmussen to away Rasmussen, phaser self-destruct set, engage your measures…"

The conduit shook and a crippling sound shock waved reached his ears as the phaser exploded. He rushed faster, faster to the end of the corridor as the inevitable fireball rolled downward towards him as he rounded the corner on the corridor, the change in color of the blurry blob in his field of vision the only indication he was approaching the end of the plasma conduit corridor.

The leaping paces more and Rasmussen dove toward the blob.

With his remaining stores of strength as he hit the floor of the access floor he jumped straight down the ladder between decks and landed with an excruciating thud onto the deck below.

The area quaked, fire flew through the port above him and burned out.

Four sweaty Betazoid faces appeared looking down on him. Drenen, near his head, spoke. "Let's move him to the shuttle craft."

Rasmussen lost consciousness on the floor of the shuttle as he heard Drenen's voice at the helm, "Shuttlecraft Emmerson to Thoreau, we are enroute to your location, maximum impulse. Prepare to beam the Captain directly to sickbay when in range. The station threat is neutralized."

Captain's Log

Mission accomplished is such a shallow, meaningless phrase at a time like this. While the Novuum evacuees have at last been delivered to their home world as we were ordered to do, and while the threat to the system has been fully neutralized, it comes at the cost of two lives. I wonder if such a price ever allowed for a true success on a mission for Starfleet.

It comes as little comfort that the Federation has launched a full-scale investigation into the nature of the Novuum's actions and intentions with their station. The new data on the anomalous black hole, likewise.

An intense combing of Lieutenant Lanar's personally logs yield nothing about his connection to the Novuum, or how he knew the potential of the station. Physical paper documents among his personal effects indicate his original parent were killed in a mining disaster when he was an infant, and that is the closest indication of why he may have risked it all to stop what only tangentially may have been connected to a devastating long distance mining tool.

The relationship between he and Von dies with them.

My treatment for acute ionizing radiation poisoning has been a success, though I remain on only part time duty for the time being. Most of my energies have been directed at securing commendations for Drenen and the 3 other Betazoids that were far more responsible for saving the Novuum Set 2 system than I was.

If approved, it will be the closest to an admirable result of this mess as we are likely to see.

Now for the crew's long delayed and much needed shore leave. I know for myself, it cannot come soon enough or last long enough.