Star Trek®: Strange New Worlds 10

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Sensors are picking up a force beam originating from a large spacecraft in orbit around the planet. The beam seems to be composed of pure anti-proton, Commodore.”

  Decker looked up in surprise. “Anti-proton? Is that even possible? Who has that kind of technology?”

  “Unknown,” his first officer replied, twisting a dial on the side of the hooded display at his science station. “We have no record of any such scientific advancement, nor do we have any record of that ship’s configuration in our database.”

  Decker leaned back in his chair and exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing at his temple. First contact scenarios always gave him a headache. This one promised to be no different, especially since the aliens were already snacking on one of his planets.

  “Communications, open hailing frequencies. Let’s see if we can talk to them,” he said over his shoulder.

  The red-shirted communications officer shook his head. “Sorry, sir! There’s too much interference in the area. We can’t punch through.”

  “Can you get through to Starfleet?”

  “No, sir!” he replied. “Subspace is a mess.”

  “Very well. Keep trying to raise the aliens and prepare a communication to Starfleet Command. Advise them of our situation and send it off when you can.”

  “Aye, sir,” the communications officer acknowledged.

  Decker went back to work on his knuckle while he mentally reviewed his first contact protocol. Avoiding miscommunication was critical, but protecting Federation lives was paramount. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember very much about this remote corner of space. “Are there any lifeforms in this system, Number One?”

  “None on the fourth planet, Commodore, but preliminary surveys indicate the existence of plant and animal life on the third planet. No detailed results are available. It was marked as a planet of sufficient merit to warrant a second expedition, however.”

  “That complicates things a bit,” Decker muttered. “We can’t very well let that thing keep chewing up planets if there’s intelligence down there.”

  The first officer nodded his head. “Agreed, but perhaps it would be prudent to withdraw until we can gather reinforcements. That’s one powerful ship over there.”

  Decker laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a pretty powerful ship over here, too, Commander. She hasn’t let us down yet, has she?”

  “No, sir, but…” the first officer began.

  “No ‘buts’ this time, Number One. I think we can handle it. Helm, move us closer.”

  The starship changed course and closed the distance with surprising speed. The planet killer continued to attack the planet, apparently far too intent on its meal to either notice or care about one Federation starship.

  “Still no response from the aliens, Commodore,” the communications officer said.

  “So much for doing things the easy way.” He thumbed a button and began speaking into his armrest communicator. “All hands, this is Decker. Red alert!”

  An alert siren echoed a shrill warning across the room as the bridge crew scrambled to prepare stations for emergency readiness. Backup power was quickly brought online and redundant systems were double-and triple-checked. Tactical diagrams began springing to life across the small overhead screens surrounding the bridge. From the navigation console, a deadly targeting computer rose ominously from within its hidden compartment at the helm, the low growl from its straining servos offering chivalrous forewarning to the enemy as Constellation completed its transformation from peaceful explorer to deadly warship.

  “Commodore,” the science officer shouted over the din of the battle preparations, “I’ve managed to punch through the interference. Sensors show no life signs aboard that spaceship. It’s some kind of giant, automated…probe.”

  “A probe? You’re telling me that thing is nothing more than an unmanned alien robot?” Decker leaned back in his chair and adjusted his tunic. “That’s just great!” he said with disgust.

  “The probe is firing at the planet again, Commodore,” the helmsman advised as he locked its signature into his targeting computer.

  “All right, people!” Decker impatiently barked, “Let’s pull this thing’s plug. We’ll sort the rest out later. Helm, fire phasers!”

  The starship attacked from extreme range, raking the giant probe with a blistering volley of phaser fire. Ruby red beams that should have easily sliced through the deep blue hull instead bounced harmlessly back into space, barely managing to scratch the surface of the alien ship.

  “Phasers had no effect, Commodore,” the helmsman reported, studying the display from his hooded targeting screen as the Doomsday Machine slowly emerged from the cloud of space dust that had been blasted from its hull by the phaser barrage.

  “Confirmed,” the science officer agreed. “Trace analysis indicates the hull to be composed of an extremely dense neutronium alloy. We may not have the power to punch through, Commodore.”

  “Nonsense! Maintain fire!” Decker ordered.

  The alien machine continued to attack the planet as the Constellation moved to close the distance, raining fire on it from afar. Once the Constellation entered the planet killer’s defensive sphere, its proximity finally did what its phasers could not. The alien probe broke off its attack and turned to face its new foe.

  “Dear God!” the helmsman exclaimed, looking down the fiery throat of the Doomsday Machine and into the raging atomic inferno burning deep within.

  “Belay that!” barked the Commodore. “Arm photon torpedoes. Full spread. Match bearings and fire!”

  The bow of the great starship came to bear on the target. Four pairs of blinding energy globes flashed from its tip and shot through space, impacting deep inside the bowels of the Doomsday Machine, but the fury of the exploding photon torpedoes was lost amid the staggering energies already flaring from the sub-atomic conversion of the planetary debris consumed by the probe. To a machine that fed on energy, the explosions from the torpedoes only served to further whet its appetite.

  “Helm, veer off and give us some maneuvering room!” Decker shouted.

  Constellation quickly spun on its axis and sped away, but the alien machine sensed the great power at the heart of its anti-matter core and raced off in pursuit.

  “Vessel is closing,” the helmsman reported.

  “Increase to full impulse!” Decker ordered.

  “We are at full impulse, Commodore,” he replied.

  “And it’s still closing? That’s impossible!” Decker stared in awe at the image of the gaping maw of the alien vessel as it chased them down, promising an undignified end to the magnificent starship’s stellar career. “Nothing is that fast!”

  A bright beam flashed from the mouth of the probe and the bridge lurched wildly to the side. Another powerful jolt quickly followed, kicking the starship violently from the rear. “We’re taking heavy fire from the enemy vessel, Commodore. Aft deflectors are down to sixty percent,” reported the First Officer.

  “From two shots?” Decker demanded. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He hadn’t seen such a lopsided battle since the Kobayshi Maru simulation from his Academy days, and that simulation was designed so the starship couldn’t win!

  The bridge rocked again, this time throwing crewmen from their seats. “Forty-two percent, Commodore!” the First Officer shouted.

  “Prepare to go to warp!” Decker said.

  “Negative, Commodore!” the navigator reported, climbing back into his chair. “Warp drive is down!”

  The bridge shook again and sparks exploded from the engineering station. “Eighteen percent!” the First Officer cried.

  “Helm, reverse course! Attack pattern delta,” Decker ordered. The next shot from the Doomsday Machine missed wide to the rear as the fleeing starship did the unexpected and doubled back on its pursuing enemy, corkscrewing in for another attack. The constantly changing vectors from the dizzying spiral confused the alien targeting algorithms, but
not the gunners of the starship’s crew. Eight more globes of energy leapt from the bow of the Constellation and disappeared down the planet killer’s throat, while a blistering fusillade of continuous phaser fire ripped through the night, momentarily obscuring the probe in a small cloud of ionized particles and vaporized space dust. Constellation burst through the cloud, streaking directly toward the nearby third planet.

  “Full speed ahead!” Decker ordered. “Let’s get behind that planet while that thing can’t see us. Move!”

  “Engineering to bridge,” the intercom whistled to life. “Phasers banks are completely drained, Commodore. We need time to recharge!”

  “Acknowledged.” Decker pointed to the corner of the view screen. “Over there, helm,” he said. “Tuck us in behind the planet over there. That should give us enough cover to make repairs.”

  The starship sped around the planet, but a tremendous crash from the rear shook the bridge, sending the crew tumbling and announcing the resounding failure of Decker’s desperate plan. The Doomsday Machine hadn’t been fooled, after all.

  The ship continued to rock as the blue force beam repeatedly lashed out and mercilessly pummeled the weakened shields. With a final blast, the deflector screens buckled and the force beam slammed into the port nacelle, instantly draining its remaining power and completely deactivating the anti-matter core.

  Decker wrenched the Constellation hard to port and the alien machine sailed past, allowing the starship to finally scurry out of sight behind the planet.

  The Doomsday Machine turned to follow.

  Against the darkness of space, a once-mighty starship drifted on minimal power, now a nearly deserted derelict. Its sole occupant, Commodore Matt Decker, sat deep within the ship, staring blankly at the lifeless view screen from his post in auxiliary control, the pleading calls from his dying crew still echoing in his ears. Behind him, a flash he couldn’t see and a ringing he couldn’t hear accompanied the arrival of two members of a highly evolved race of beings known simply as the Q.

  “Pathetic!” the dark-haired Q spat with contempt.

  “Still, it was rather heroic, wouldn’t you say?” his tall brother asked. “It takes a lot of courage to stare into the face of doom like that. I haven’t seen such a display in ages!”

  “Abject stupidity, more like,” Q snorted, moving around the console to gaze critically into the vacant eyes of the defeated Commodore. “It never even occurred to him that one starship might not be a match for that thing. He should have retreated and called for backup when he had the chance. Now, that thing is going to rip right through the heart of his galaxy and nobody will know it’s coming until far too late. That one display of ‘courage,’ as you put it, may very well have doomed his entire civilization.”

  The other’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “You almost sound as if you expected them to win,” he observed.

  “Of course not!” Q replied, “but they should have done much better! I didn’t count on sheer pigheadedness getting in the way of sending a warning back to Starfleet. Humans were nothing like this the last time I checked in on them.” With a heavy sigh and a sad shake of his head, he folded his arms and quietly added, “perhaps there was nothing special about this race, after all.”

  “No, I disagree,” the other argued. “I’m beginning to see what you find so fascinating about these humans! I’ll grant you they could have done much better toward the end, but I think you’re being too hard on them. They did quite well until they dismissed its intelligence. Hiding behind the planet was such an obvious tactic. Who knows what might have happened without that one blunder?”

  “If they were better prepared, they wouldn’t have made that mistake in the first place!” Q insisted. Walking to the middle of the room and adopting a tragic stance, he raised his hands and stared imploringly at the ceiling. “And would someone please explain that last tactic to me?” he begged.

  The other made a face and scratched his head. “Yes, that has me a bit puzzled, too. Why anyone would beam his entire crew down to a planet when there’s a known planet-eating machine in the system is a bit beyond me. I can’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking.” With a mischievous grin, he asked, “What have you been teaching these humans, old boy?”

  “Very funny! I’m no shepherd and you know it. I’m far too busy for that type of nonsense,” Q replied as he began to wander absently around the auxiliary control room, stopping occasionally to examine a particularly ingenious piece of Federation technology. “Still, I do try to stop by every now and again to give humanity a push in the right direction. The Black Plague, the Industrial Revolution, the fossil fuel crisis…they’ve always risen to the challenge. Until now, that is,” he added. “Since my latest little gambit seems to have failed so miserably, I would imagine they’re in for a rough ride this time.”

  “Children are like that,” the other remarked. “One minute, they’re amazing us with their leaps of intuition and the next minute we’re baffled by their inability to understand the obvious. Being a parent takes patience, Q.”

  “I suppose so,” Q remarked. “I had such high hopes for this race, but I guess they’re only human.” With a snap of his fingers, his Starfleet uniform was instantly replaced by a simple brown robe identical to the one worn by his brother.

  “So,” he said brightly, clapping his hands sharply together and changing the subject. “We seem to have some time on our hands before that thing arrives at the heart of their galaxy. I know of a star cluster that’s about to explode. It should be quite a sight. Care to come?”

  “Not so fast, Q. We might not be done here. Look over there.” He pointed through the hull and out to the edge of the solar system. Another Federation starship was cautiously advancing into the sector. “U.S.S. Enterprise,” he read aloud. “Perhaps this one will do better.”

  Q glanced outside. “I don’t see how. We’ve already tested a commodore; this one’s only a captain. That star cluster promises to be a much better show. Let’s leave these humans to their fate and head over there before all the good seats are taken.”

  “You go ahead, Q. I think I’ll stay here. Unless I miss my guess, things are about to get interesting.” With a snap of his fingers, his robes were instantly replaced by the slacks and tunic of a Starfleet captain. Before the other could object, he smiled and asked, “Would you be so kind as to call that thing back before you leave?”

  No loss was easy, but sacrifice was sometimes necessary in order to win. Nobody knew that better than Captain James T. Kirk. Aboard the crippled Constellation, now barely alive and crawling its way slowly toward the Doomsday Machine, Kirk stood defiantly in the middle of auxiliary control, determination on his brow and fire in his eyes as he stared down the throat of a hungry planet killer that was growing larger by the second in the auxiliary viewer. His determined gaze flicked across the instruments and briefly came to rest on the delayed detonator built for him by his chief engineer. Flip the switch too early and the starship would explode before it could be swallowed by the planet killer; too late and he might not get off the ship alive. He was walking a thin line, but walking that line was the duty of every starship commander and Kirk was one of the best.

  “Steady as you go,” he quietly urged the mortally wounded starship.

  When Kirk arrived aboard the Constellation, he found Matt Decker alone in auxiliary control, traumatized and incoherent. As Decker began to regain his senses, Kirk learned of both the battle with the Doomsday Machine and its tragic climax. Adrift and without power, Decker beamed the entire crew to the third planet, remaining behind to attempt repairs. When the Doomsday Machine returned to destroy the planet, he could do nothing but watch.

  Kirk sent Decker to safety aboard the Enterprise, but the man refused to stay out of the battle when the Doomsday Machine inexplicably returned to resume the fight. Decker died alone in a shuttlecraft, one man against an invincible foe; but his death was not in vain, for it revealed the sacrifice that would be necessary in order
to win. Now, Kirk was going to help the Constellation finish the job.

  “It’s time,” he whispered softly to the starship, rubbing his hand slowly across the command console. Then, with a final triumphant look at the doomed planet killer, Kirk paid his silent respects to Decker and his crew and deliberately flipped the switch.

  “Beam me aboard, Mister Spock!” he ordered.

  Time froze.

  “That was magnificent!” the tall alien exclaimed, materializing behind Kirk and affectionately thumping him on the back.

  “It wasn’t that great,” Q snorted as he materialized beside his brother. “They very nearly lost again, thanks largely to our esteemed Commodore Decker.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he waved dismissively. “I’m talking about the drive, the determination!” He rounded on Q and grasped him at the shoulders, shaking him to emphasize the point. “These humans are amazing! Kirk knew he wasn’t going to lose. He didn’t know precisely how he was going to win until the end, but he knew that he couldn’t be defeated as long as he refused to give up. That’s always been the hardest lesson for the new races to learn, but these humans understand it instinctively!”

  “This one needs a different lesson,” Q spat, batting aside the embrace and walking over to Kirk. “Humility!” he said, flinging an accusing arm at Kirk’s proud pose—chest out, chin up and jaw thrust forward. “Just look at that! Such arrogance! He hasn’t learned a thing. This whole encounter has just been one more battle to him. He’s not interested in who built that thing or where it came from. He has given no thought to what he would do if he stumbled across another one tomorrow, nor does he care!”

  “Well, unless you happen to find another—quite by accident, of course—he won’t,” the taller Q remarked, a hint of anger returning to his brow. “I strongly recommend that you not go out of your way to find any more, either.”