by Dayton Ward
Šmrhová reported, “We’ve still got a lock on them, sir, though the sensor readings are really muddled now that they’re on the surface.”
“Captain,” said Elfiki, “sensors are also picking up a new spike in the quantum energy readings. I’m . . .”
She paused, and when she said nothing else after a few seconds Picard turned to see her hunched over her controls, leaning toward one of the station’s display monitors and tapping rapid sequences of commands to her console.
“Lieutenant?” he said.
Shaking her head, the science officer replied, “I’m having to recalibrate to properly measure the readings, sir. They’re off our normal scales.”
“Is the away team in any danger?” Picard asked as he moved toward her.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t know if I’d want to stick around down there for any length of time. I’ve never seen anything like these readings, sir.”
“Mister La Forge,” said Picard, “your shield modifications?”
His attention on his station, the engineer replied, “Still working on it, Captain.”
Not good enough, Picard decided. “We’ll just have to make do. Full power to the shields. Route from nonessential systems, if necessary, at your discretion.” Stepping closer to the conn station, he said to Faur, “Lieutenant, are you ready?”
She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be, sir.”
Picard was unable to resist a small smile. “Make it s—”
“No!”
The cry of alarm made Picard turn to where Elfiki had spun in her seat, pushing herself away from her station. “Captain, the quantum flux! It’s the planet. The entire planet is starting to shift out of phase!”
“What?” Returning his attention to the viewscreen, Picard stared at the planet, the image of which seemed not to have changed at all. It hung there, lifeless, against the backdrop of the nebula, as though doing its level best to dissuade anyone or anything in taking any sort of interest in it.
And then, as Picard stared, the world began to . . . ripple?
“Enterprise to away team!” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was speaking. “Mister Worf, can you hear me?”
Static laced the first officer’s reply as it erupted from the intership. “Worf here, Cap . . . thing happeni . . . own here. We are attem—” The rest of the response vanished in another burst of electronic squawk.
On the viewscreen, the unnamed planet wavered, and even seemed to expand or stretch for a brief moment, then appeared to pull in on itself, shrinking within an increasing cascade effect before disappearing in a flash of light and leaving only the multihued gases of the NGC 8541 nebula to fill the viewscreen.
“Oh, my god,” said Faur. Breaking her gaze from the screen, she turned to look at Picard, and the captain saw her expression of disbelief mirrored on the faces of the other bridge officers.
He forced himself to maintain his composure as he processed what had just happened. Though the nebula beckoned to him from the viewscreen, the planet—and his people—were gone.
But to where?
7
ELSEWHERE
U.S.S. Enterprise-D
Riker strode into the observation lounge to find the rest of his senior staff already assembled. Standing at the viewscreen set into the room’s far wall, Data turned and nodded in greeting as the rest of his officers rose from their chairs in deference to their captain.
“As you were,” he said, motioning for everyone to keep their seats as he moved to the chair at the head of the conference table. To his right, the ports making up the room’s aft wall offered an unfettered view of the Spindrift Nebula and the curtain of uncounted distant stars. It would be so easy to get lost in the wonder and beauty on display before him, even without the interesting mystery it had deposited at his feet.
Settling into his chair, Riker took in the faces of his officers—Data, Geordi La Forge, Natasha Yar, Doctor Katherine Pulaski, and Deanna—exchanging nods with each of them and even sparing a small grin for Wesley Crusher. Like Deanna and very much unlike the rest of the senior staff, the young man wore typical civilian attire that offered mute testimony to his status not as a member of the Enterprise crew but instead a Starfleet technical advisor given a long-term assignment to the starship.
“Wes,” said Riker, “good to see you. Thanks very much for pitching in to help Data and Geordi.” According to the reports Riker had received from Data and La Forge, Crusher had been assisting with data collection from the automated probes in the nebula for the past several hours, working through the night in order to afford the chief engineer some much-needed rest.
Nodding, Wesley replied, “No problem, Captain. We’ve been receiving data from the probes for the past couple of hours, but so far nothing interesting has popped up. There’s no sign of the planet. At least, not yet.”
“What about the nebula itself?” asked Riker. “Surely we’ve got enough information now to know whether it poses any danger to us or the ship.”
“The nebula’s background radiation levels are well below any level that might pose a potential risk,” said Data. “The Enterprise’s hull will provide ample protection in that regard.”
Pulaski added, “I’ve reviewed Mister Data’s reports on this, and I concur. Even if we end up needing to send someone outside the ship in an EV suit, they would be protected, and I can increase that protection with hyronalin to counter any effects of possible radiation exposure.”
“Good.” Riker nodded, pleased that at least one potential source of trouble was off the table. “So, the crew is safe, but our equipment is still a bit hampered in here.”
“That’s correct, sir,” said La Forge. “Sensors are the biggest issue, but the nebula would also interfere with different systems to varying degrees, depending on the situation. We’ve been able to counter most of the problems with communications, but something like the transporter would be trickier. As for the sensors, that’s a bit of an ongoing battle, but we’re making progress there too.” He nodded to where Data still stood at the viewscreen. “We figured out a few things while reconfiguring the probes, and now we’re applying those ideas to the Enterprise’s sensor array.”
Riker replied, “That’s a lot of work in a short time. I appreciate everything you’ve both done.”
“We didn’t do it all by ourselves,” said the chief engineer, gesturing to Wesley. “Wes was a big help.” For his part, the younger man sat in silence and offered a slight, graceful nod, even though his cheeks blushed with momentary embarrassment.
La Forge’s compliment was not unique. It was a common observation Riker had heard from numerous crew members almost from the beginning of his tenure aboard the Enterprise. He, Wesley Crusher, and the boy’s mother, Doctor Beverly Crusher, had come aboard the newly commissioned starship at the same time, having first met on Deneb IV while awaiting the vessel’s arrival. It had become obvious in rather short order that Wes, then just a teenager, was a gifted young man with a bright future and all but limitless potential. His grasp of science and engineering concepts far surpassed that of his peers, and his thirst for learning was unquenchable. Even Captain Picard, who had admitted to Riker his discomfort with being around children and his concern with being responsible for a ship filled with families, found himself taken with the boy. Riker was certain at least some of that came from Picard’s previous relationship with Wesley’s parents, and the tragic circumstances surrounding the death of the boy’s father, who, like his mother, had also been a Starfleet officer.
It seemed for a time that Wes might follow in his parents’ footsteps and pursue a Starfleet career. Picard had encouraged Wesley, offering the boy access to a course of study and areas of the ship that would assist him in his preparations to one day attend Starfleet Academy. This had culminated in the captain bestowing upon him the provisional rank of “acting ensi
gn,” which afforded him even greater opportunity to assist members of the crew and to partake in assignments pertaining to the operation and even safety of the Enterprise.
However, it soon became obvious that for all his talents, Wesley Crusher had no real yearning to become a Starfleet officer. Deanna had been the first to see that, and had talked first to him and Doctor Crusher, who in turn had discussed it with Picard. Rather than expressing disappointment, the captain instead supported the young man’s decision and made sure that he continued to benefit from his time spent living on the Enterprise. In short order, Wesley’s technical knowledge and expertise saw to it that he became an integral part of the crew, assisting the engineering and science departments on numerous tasks, including more than a few emergencies. When Doctor Crusher elected to leave the ship after only a year in order to serve as the head of Starfleet Medical, Wesley chose to remain aboard. His talents and contributions eventually convinced Starfleet to authorize him for service as a fully sanctioned civilian technical consultant. As much as anyone on the ship and perhaps more than most, he had taken Captain Picard’s death hard. Like every other member of the crew, he had chosen to remain aboard the Enterprise, continuing to serve it and Starfleet as though driven by the need to honor the man who once had commanded this starship, and who had sacrificed everything to protect it.
“I guess we can inform Starfleet to extend Mister Crusher’s contract a little while longer,” said Riker, punctuating the comment with a broad grin that earned him a few polite chuckles. Once that moment had passed, he leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on the conference table. “All right, so the planet’s still playing hide-and-seek with us. Either our sensors are really fouled up, the damned planet is somehow moving within the nebula to stay hidden, or else it’s just not here anymore. I’m not buying the idea that our sensors are that ineffective, and I think we all know planets don’t really move the way this one would have to to keep us from finding it. That leaves option number three, and I’m betting even the sensor data we’ve collected so far will at least support the theory.” He raised his head to look to where his first officer remained at the table’s far end. “Any chance you can prove me wrong, Mister Data?”
The android shook his head. “I am unable to do so, Captain, as the sensor readings are supporting a hypothesis I have been formulating: The residual quantum fluctuations we detected suggest a form of interdimensional shift has taken place that has somehow affected the entire planet. However, our sensors have detected nothing that might suggest a naturally occurring phenomenon is responsible.”
“I’m no scientist,” said Lieutenant Yar, “but that sounds like it’d have to be one very large shift, which would require a lot of power to pull off. That would line up with the energy readings we detected coming from the planet.”
La Forge replied, “That’s our thinking too. That underground fusion reactor they have must be huge, along with whatever technology was constructed to produce the dimensional shift in the first place.”
“That does raise a few questions,” said Troi. “If we are talking about an artificial mechanism, then who built it, and why?”
Yar nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“I know the Romulans are an easy choice for something like this,” said Riker, “but we’ve already ruled them out, based on the residual energy signatures. Any other viable candidates? I doubt the Klingons would be devoting time and energy to something like this. What about the Cardassians?”
“Cardassian technology is not consistent with the readings we have detected,” replied Data. “Also, given the current state of their military, it seems unlikely that they would be expending resources toward an effort of this type.”
Riker shifted in his seat. “Fair enough. One can never be sure when it comes to them, especially these days.”
The Federation had been dealing with fallout from its conflict with the Cardassian Union for nearly two decades. The border and territorial skirmishes, while costly to Starfleet and Federation interests, had caused a much greater level of instability for the Cardassians. It had been years since any major engagements, and it was only months ago that an actual truce had been enacted, bringing the hostilities to a formal end. Now the two interstellar powers were dealing with the ramifications of the armistice, and there were those on both sides who doubted the treaty would hold.
I guess we’ll see what we see.
“The level of technology required to accomplish such a feat would seem to limit the number of potential responsible parties,” said Data.
“Here’s an interesting thought,” said Pulaski. “Could it be us? Some kind of classified Starfleet research and development project we’ve found by accident?”
Reaching up to stroke his beard, Riker replied, “I’ll admit I considered that, but only a little while ago. I wish I’d thought to ask Admiral Jellico something along those lines during our last conversation.” That, at least, would have made it worth his while after the admiral had roused him from sleep with his supposedly “urgent” request for an update. “However, I’m betting Data and Geordi can rule that out.”
“The power signatures and other readings we took aren’t consistent with anything we’ve got,” said La Forge. “I guess that doesn’t absolutely rule out some kind of highly classified effort, but I’m having a hard time believing we couldn’t at least find something to connect to Starfleet or at least some form of technology we’re familiar with.”
Pulaski said, “It wouldn’t be the first time Starfleet’s pulled something like this, you know.”
“I’ve heard stories.” Though he said nothing else, Riker knew about such things all too well. He had even been involved in such a project, years ago at the beginning of his Starfleet career.
His final hours as an ensign aboard the U.S.S. Pegasus, and the mutiny that had ensued aboard that starship, still found ways on occasion to haunt his dreams. The uprising had occurred after an explosion in the ship’s engineering section, which revealed that an experimental phased cloaking device had been installed. A direct violation of the Federation’s peace agreement with the Romulan Empire, the Treaty of Algeron, this new cloaking technology was intended as a Starfleet countermeasure to be used in any future dealings with the Romulans. The tactical advantages presented by such technology were obvious, but the consequences of its existence becoming known to the Empire were dire.
Members of the crew, including members of the ship’s senior staff, believed they had been duped by illegal orders issued by the Pegasus’s commanding officer, Captain Erik Pressman. They attempted to relieve Pressman of his command, and the situation quickly devolved into a firefight throughout the wounded ship, with Pressman and those loyal to him forced to leave the Pegasus. During the skirmish, Ensign William Riker, only months removed from his graduation from Starfleet Academy, found himself defending his captain from what he perceived at the time to be riotous mutineers. He and eight other officers, including Pressman, were able to flee the ship in escape pods, and they watched, helpless, from a distance as the Pegasus was consumed by a massive explosion. A warp core breach? Had the damage to the vessel’s engineering section been that extensive? A sensor sweep of the area showed no sign of a disaster beacon, meaning that the truth behind the starship’s destruction might forever remain a mystery.
Only in the aftermath of the ship’s loss did Captain Pressman inform Riker about the truth behind the accident, along with its larger ramifications with respect to Federation relations with the Romulans. There would be inquiries, the captain explained, and it was important that the information provided to Starfleet be as factual and accurate as possible. Riker recalled being confused by Pressman’s instructions. How could he lie? So secret was the phased cloak project that he had not known anything about it until after the explosion, and only then because the ship’s first officer had taken Pressman to task for the accident. To this day, owi
ng mostly to strict orders and the thick veil of secrecy under which the entire project was shrouded, Riker had never said anything to anyone about his assignment to the Pegasus, but he often wondered what had happened aboard the ship during those final, dreadful moments.
Maybe it’s better to just not know.
The audio signal for the intraship sounded, followed by the voice of Lieutenant Worf.
“Bridge to Captain Riker. Sorry to disturb you, sir, but one of the sensor drones has detected something new.”
Exchanging glances with his staff, Riker pushed himself to his feet, and everyone followed suit. “On our way.”
The door leading to the short passageway that connected the observation lounge to the bridge parted at Data’s approach and the first officer paused at the threshold, allowing Riker to be the first to exit. Upon entering the bridge, Riker’s first action was to glance to the main viewscreen, which continued to display an image of the Spindrift Nebula.
“What’ve you got, Lieutenant?” he asked.
Standing at the tactical station located on the elevated platform just behind the captain’s chair, Worf nodded toward the viewscreen. “Captain, probe number four detected a similar, weaker series of quantum fluctuations coming from the area it was sweeping. Its onboard computer automatically adjusted its course to investigate and found this.”
The Klingon officer entered a string of commands to his console, and a moment later the image on the viewscreen shifted. Though the backdrop provided by the nebula looked largely the same, Riker recognized the change in perspective as well as the density of the gas clouds that masked the view of distant stars. Of greater interest to the captain was the odd, cylindrical object now drifting at the center of the screen.
“Hello, stranger,” said La Forge, who had moved to one of the bridge’s rear workstations. Glancing over his shoulder, Riker saw that the chief engineer was calling up whatever program or process he and Data had created to oversee the sensor probes and their activities.
