by David Smith
The last person being levered into a suit was a lithe-looking native American. Dave had been briefly introduced to Crewman Running Deer only once before, and she had remained silent throughout the encounter. Her colleagues in Security, however, had spoken often and at length, about her hunting instincts and uncanny knack of noticing things they’d missed.
She bluntly refused to carry a phaser, but always kept a ferocious looking hunting knife with her. Such was the esteem with which she was regarded that Chief Belle (a vocal advocate of the ‘no-such-thing-as-over-armed’ lobby) was willing to over-look her reluctance to use modern weaponry.
The Transporter Chief, Andy Carstairs, brought over two more suits, and his team helped Dave and O’Mara into them. They tuned their comm-sets to a common channel and mounted the six pads on the Transporter platform.
Chief Carstairs checked the system’s readings and then scanned the surface of the planet below. ‘Nothing is like I remember it, but I’ll put you in the corridor that used to lead to the Flight Control Office. It looks intact, but don’t open your visors until you’ve done a full check’ he advised.
Energy patterns swirled around the group and the peculiar tingling sensation of the transport beam swept over them. The next thing they knew, the beam faded and they were stood in complete darkness.
Dave touched a control on the sleeve of his suit and the lights built into his helmet on either side of the visor sprang to life, illuminating the area immediately in front of him. The other members of the landing party followed suit, creating six little pools of light in a long, dark corridor.
Dave called back to Carstairs to confirm they’d arrived safely, then checked his tricorder. He scanned the area around them and sighed as he realized this was nothing like the Hole that he remembered. Where the Flight Control Office should have been was a small bare room, with empty racks and shelves. Nothing more than a store cupboard.
The others were using their own tricorders to gather information, and Commander Mengele was the first to speak. ‘No signs of bacterial or viral contamination, radiation levels are normal, air is toxin-free. The atmosphere is breathable although cold. It is safe to open our visors.’
She lifted up the polycarbonate screen of her suit and her breath curled out in front of the lights of her helmet. The rest of the team opened their visors too, shutting down the breathing apparatus of their suits to conserve energy.
O’Mara and Mengele compared notes on their respective tricorders, and O’Mara said ‘No signs of organics in the air . . . everything seems to be powered down rather than damaged . . . shelves and stores have been cleared . . . it looks like our people have flown the coop.’
Deng was examining the power conduits and signal cables that ran along the wall of the corridor. ‘Signs of over-load damage and repairs . . . several places . . . they’ve used different types of cable to patch the breaks. This wasn’t a single attack. It looks like they were under siege.’
Running Deer was crouched down looking at dust on the floor. In a soft, quiet voice she added ‘There are foot-prints in the dust. They left after one last attack. The strides are short. They didn’t panic and run, they walked out of here. This was an evacuation, not an escape.
‘Well, I suppose that’s a relief, but it still doesn’t give us any clue as to what happened. We need to find the Flight Control Office . . . Or Operations Room or something. We need more data.’
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ASBeau shifted uncomfortably in the Captains chair. He knew his limitations, and was much happier at the Tactical Station. Things were simpler there. Everything was either a target or it wasn’t. If it was a target . . . shoot . . . bang . . . job done, and he was a happy boy.
He was always quite happy to hear Hollins make the decisions about what they should do or where they should go. Hollins seemed to be quite good at that sort of thing, although ASBeau didn’t really have much of a yard-stick to compare him against. In his time on board Tiger, the ship’s actual Commanding Officer, Captain Emanuel LaCroix, and the previous First Officer, Commander Israel Joynes, had been conspicuous by their absence from the Bridge.
As far as ASBeau could recall all of LaCroix’ major decisions seemed to revolve around which Yeoman he’d be humping for the day, while Joyne’s only decisions seemed to revolve around whether to get off his face on weed, or . . . actually that was about it.
ASBeau was still ruminating on this when the silent Yellow Alert beacon was replaced by the strident and very worrying Red Alert klaxon.
The ship’s computer’s automated warning system sounded off above the din of the klaxon: ‘Red Alert!! Incoming fire from planetary surface . . . ‘
ASBeau had to resist the urge to run to the Tactical Station and fire back. His relief, Lieutenant Dylan Janus, was at the station and he was a very competent officer. Scanning through the data from the tactical sensors, Janus shouted over the Computer and the klaxon ‘Incoming phaser fire from two locations on the planetary surface, I’m marking them both.’ There was a brief pause before the young officer added ‘They’re Federation phasers, sir, no doubt about it,’
ASBeau tried to remain calm and focused in the manner to which he’d become accustomed from Commander Hollins. ‘Crash, evasive! Janus, can we get a lock on the phaser banks?’
‘Got it already sir, but they’re friendlies?’
Gritting his teeth, ASBeau growled ‘I know, but we’ve already established there’s no life down there. It must be some kind of automated defence. Lock on, but hold fire. Shearer, any IFF??’
The Tiger was transmitting standard friend-or-foe signals, which should have marked her as an ally of any Starfleet defensive system, but evidently something had gone wrong.
The Tiger’s Comms Officer was already monitoring all frequencies that Federation ships and bases usually used. ‘Norra thing, sir. Ahm transmittin frenship signals on all chanuls in linguacode and standahd languages . . . naw response yet, mine yew.’
Janus spoke up again ‘Who . . . or whatever’s firing is way off!’ he said shaking his head. ‘We’re sitting ducks in an orbit this low, but those shots missed us by over a hundred clicks. I can’t work out if the defences have faulty fire-control systems, or they’re just trying to scare us off?’
‘It’s neither’ smiled ASBeau. ‘We’re still covered in them crazy LOAVES. They must be absorbing the energy from the fire-control sensors and preventing the phasers from getting a decent lock. Tiger must be as black as the last sausage on the barbecue! I bet we’re damn near invisible to their targeting sensors.’
‘They’re still trying to track us, though’ said Janus. ‘Firing again . . . closer that time, forty clicks ahead of us . . . ‘
ASBeau remembered the First Officers instructions and decided to follow the spirit of his orders. ‘If we’re hard to see at this altitude, we’ll be even harder to see further out. Crash, take us out to high orbit, say, ten-thousand clicks. Change our heading by a few degrees every orbit. Let’s see if they can still spot us that far away.’
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Down in the tunnels of Hole, the away team were trying to navigate their way around the cold, dark and unfamiliar base.
O’Mara was still scanning with her tricorder held out in front of her. ‘I’m reading a lower average density in the areas off to our left. I guess that’s an indicator of rooms or tunnels in the rock. I think we should head that way when we get the chance.’
‘Ok team, you heard her, look for openings and passageways to our left’ Dave shouted to the strung out team.
They edged forward stopping now and then to check through what doors they found. Most compartments were empty but relatively intact, supporting the theory that the colony had been evacuated in good order. What little they did find was mundane stuff: odd personal journals and logs on unencrypted computer terminals, material lists, receipts, bills, books, and even shopping lists.
Things seemed banal until they came to a large steel portal, whi
ch seemed to be some kind of blast door. The mechanisms to open it had no power, but Deng had brought a variety of tools and a portable power source for such an event.
She broke open a panel beside the door and after a few seconds of fiddling around the huge door slid back, allowing them access deeper into the tunnels.
The change was immediately obvious. The walls of this area were lined with uniform metal panels between a row of identical steel arches, rather than a hap-hazard mixture of metal and bare rock. The lighting (if it had been working) would have been brighter and more consistent. Comm-sets and power-points were visible at regular intervals and the walls were cluttered with neat rows of cables, pipes and fibres.
Just inside the door was a desk, with a large protective screen and just behind this was a series of small rooms that included what appeared to be an armoury.
Although empty, Dave recognized racks that would normally hold phaser pistols, rifles and light-weight body armour. Worryingly, there were racks that were clearly designed to hold weapons much larger and more exotic than the standard Fleet issued equipment.
Deer was examining the odds and ends in the room and paused as she looked down at the boot-prints in the omnipresent dust. She said ‘The military organised the evacuation. They took everything of worth militarily speaking and worried about personal effects later. And they were still here until about a month ago.’
‘You can tell that just by looking at the footprints??’ asked Dave in astonishment.
Running Deer looked up at him with a slightly disbelieving look on her face. She pointed past him to a calendar on the wall and said ‘The date that’s circled and marked “Evacuate all civilians” gave me a bit of a clue sir.’
‘Ah. Good work, Deer’ said Dave with just the slightest of blushes. They left the check-point with a growing sense of unease, but with their curiosity growing at a far greater rate.
This was not Hole.
Not their Hole.
The passageways they were in now were clearly many years old. There were all the tell-tale signs of wear and tear: faded and chipped paint. Scuffs and scratches where grav-sleds had bashed against the walls. A thick layer of dust in the less accessible nooks and crannies. Even the odd mark of graffiti, mostly obscene, and often lavishly illustrated.
Strangest of all, the walls were adorned with posters from some dystopian night-mare. Dave spotted a crude drawing of some Sha T’Al in weird military uniforms, wielding huge weapons and slaughtering poor defenceless human women and children. The slogan above it read ‘Death to the Murderous Sha T’Al scum!!’
Another showed several Tana in bondage, with heavily-armed human captors in combat armour towering over them. Above this a caption boldly stated ‘The Empire will prevail!! Long live the Emperor!!’
The team slowly headed deeper into the complex of tunnels, each new discovery adding to their sense of unease. Chief Belle led the way, phaser in hand, until Running Deer abruptly grabbed her shoulder. Silently she pointed, drawing the Security Chief’s attention to a small device on the wall of the tunnel, tucked away between some pipework.
The Chief whispered ‘Thanks, Deer!’ and backed up, quietly urging the rest of the team to move back: ‘Ease back down the corridor, they’ve left a trap behind.’
‘What??’ hissed Dave in alarm.
The Chief raised her finger to her lips to silence him and whispered ‘There’s a spider-mine hidden behind those pipes.’
Seeing the blank look and shrug her comment brought she moved closer to Dave and explained, ‘A spider-mine is an old type of anti-personnel mine. They can be set to explode by any number of triggers: contact, movement, sound, heat . . . you name it, they can sense it. If we’ve got this close, I’m guessing we haven’t done whatever triggers this one off. That doesn’t mean we won’t though, so we need to give it a very wide berth.’
The whole team except for Running Deer edged back up the corridor until they found a side passage and took shelter around the corner. Deer stood very still, and completely silent, slowly and carefully scanning the mine. She changed a setting on her tricorder and edged closer, and then changed the setting again before edging closer still.
Dave wanted to shout to her to get her clear, but she was now so close to the mine that she would have no chance of survival if his shout triggered it.
They huddled, waiting for an explosion, but abruptly, Deer lowered her tricorder, calmly walked up to the device and levered it off the wall. ‘It’s safe’ she announced far too late for Dave’s liking, and they nervously crept back up the corridor towards her.
‘Is it a dud?’ Dave asked, still anxious.
‘No, it’s live, and still armed’ said Deer coolly, ‘but the trigger on this one is set to detect DNA in the air. Obviously not human DNA or I’d be dead by now.’
Dave was stunned: ‘I didn’t think we had such weapons!!’
‘We don’t,’ growled Chief Belle, ‘the ‘sniffer-trigger’ is why these mines were outlawed by all the evolved races over a hundred years ago. They could be scattered anywhere by a defending force and set to explode if enemy aliens approached. Unfortunately, they’re very long lived and everywhere they were used, people were getting killed years . . . decades . . . after they’d been set and forgotten about.’
Commander Mengele had been quietly conversing with Running Deer, and approached Dave. ‘This is a concern, Commander. Running Deer has managed to deactivate the mine, but it appears it is coded to detonate in the presence of the Sha T’Al.’
Dave scratched his head ‘Well I suppose I could have guessed that after hearing the automated message that’s being broadcast. At least that tells us who attacked Hole, even if we don’t know why.’
Running Deer had wandered away up the corridor, and before long turned and shouted ‘There are more mines up here.’ She scanned them, and began to back away carefully. ‘Back-up everyone, I don’t think these are coded to DNA . . . ‘
There was a thunderous explosion and a shock wave threw them all to the floor. A huge gout of flame rolled along the ceiling, but even before it had passed, Chief Belle was back on her feet and charging down the corridor.
‘’Deer!! Can you hear me??’ she shouted, and they all breathed a sigh of relief when they heard a faint reply.
‘Ouch. That hurt.’
‘Are you ok?? Where are you? I can’t see you?’ shouted the Chief.
‘I’m ok, just winded. I spotted a mine which I checked out with the tricorder. It was set for proximity. I didn’t see a second mine hidden behind some pipes right next to it until it was too late. I guess that one was set to detect sub-space energy as it detonated as soon as the tricorder found it. Fortunately the pipes it was hidden behind must have deflected the worst of the blast away from me. Nothing damaged other than my pride.’
The Chief found her struggling out from under a pile of collapsed ceiling panels and helped her to her feet. She was shaken but miraculously intact, and ruefully said ‘I think we need to tread carefully, sir, they’ve laid traps within traps. It seems the residents made quite an effort to make this place inhospitable.’
‘Well, we’ll see about that!!’ said the Chief between gritted teeth and before Dave could say anything she stomped off down the corridor, crouched and shouted ‘Fire in the hole!!’ as she blasted the other mine with her phaser.
It exploded, sending another shock-wave and a blast of heat, flame and smoke rolling towards them, but the Chief ignored it and shot at a third mine.
Dave was shouting at her to cease fire, but she couldn’t hear anything and proceeded down the corridor, blasting each mine and anything that looked even remotely like a mine, and quite a bit of other stuff too.
After the sixth detonation, Dave gave in to the inevitable and told the rest of the team to take cover. They huddled in a side-corridor as the Chief waged a one-woman campaign of destruction, barely flinching as each detonation brought more smoke and flame. Before long the corridor looked like a vision of hell,
the cold sterile box of the tunnel replaced with a livid inferno of twisted metal, fallen rock and burning plastic.
After a while, Dave realised that the explosions had stopped. He peered around the corner and up the corridor. Striding forth like some indestructible fire demon, the Chief returned, her suit scorched and torn: ‘Got ‘em all. We’re good now.’
Coming out from cover, Dave said ‘Thanks, Chief. You and I need to sit down discuss the meaning of the words ‘cease’ and ‘fire’. While we’re at it, we could try some other vocabulary additions, like ‘caution’. And ‘safety-catch’, that may be useful someday.’
The Chief didn’t even flinch: ‘Just doing my job the way I know best sir. I do it my way and I know we’re all safe.’
‘Safe from mines, yes. However, we’re now at risk from combustion, asphyxiation and possibly structural collapse. Not to mention tinnitus.’
The Chief glanced up the thoroughly wrecked corridor. Right on cue, a large over-head panel came crashing down. ‘Ah. Sorry sir, I didn’t think that far ahead.’
‘Well it’s done now. We still need to find an Ops Room or Control Room so I guess you’d better lead on. Please try not to destroy anything else.’
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They edged forward, more carefully than ever now, as they picked their way through the debris and detritus.
The walls and deck-head of the corridor began to fill up with more and more cables and pipework, a sure indicator that they were getting close to some kind of control facility. Sadly, Chief Belle’s rampage ensured that anything they found would probably be inoperable now. They came to a large, heavily reinforced door, and O’Mara scanned it. ‘Bingo! I think we’ve found it.’ Running Deer brought up the power pack while O’Mara and Chief Deng worked on the lock.
‘It’s not too heavily encrypted’ said the Science Officer ‘It’s a simple hexi-dec code, should have it open in a jiff.’ They fiddled with the control panel beside the door and with a disconcerting grinding noise the heavy door slowly slid aside.
