Headlong Flight

by Dayton Ward

  “Any guesses?” asked Riker.

  Data, now standing next to La Forge, replied, “It appears to be an unmanned vessel. Sensors indicate it is three point seven meters in length and one point six meters in diameter, and its outer shell is composed of a substance for which there is no record in the ship’s computer banks.”

  “Some kind of drone or buoy?” asked Wesley, who had descended the ramp from the back of the bridge and was now standing just behind the unoccupied flight controller’s station.

  “Looks like it,” replied La Forge. “It’s broadcasting some kind of communications signal, but I have no idea who the intended recipient might be, and it gets better.” Turning from the workstation, he moved to stand next to where Yar had relieved Worf at the tactical station while the Klingon returned to the ops position. “If I’m reading this sensor information correctly, that thing’s in a state of flux. In fact, the sensors were having trouble at first deciding if it’s even there, but I think I’ve got it sorted it out now. It’s definitely there, but it’s like it’s caught in the midst of an interdimensional shift.”

  Shifting his gaze to Data, Riker asked, “Can you confirm that?”

  “I am attempting to do so, Captain,” replied the android, “but the quantum fluctuations emanating from the device appear to be interfering with the probe’s sensors. I have instructed the probe to remain at what I believe is a safe distance, which would have an effect on the quality of scans it conducts. However, the Enterprise’s sensor array would provide better returns, if we were to move closer.”

  “Let’s do that, then,” said Riker. “Mister Crusher, you mind taking conn?”

  The younger man smiled. “Not at all, sir.”

  Sliding into the flight controller’s seat, Crusher offered Worf a silent nod as they both set to their respective tasks, with Wesley taking on the responsibility of maneuvering the Enterprise deeper into the nebula as La Forge sent him the proper coordinates. Moving at one-quarter impulse power, it took only moments for the starship to cover the distance separating it from the sensor probe and the mysterious object it had found.

  “The closer proximity is proving most helpful,” said Data, and Riker turned to see his first officer engrossed in the information streaming across the engineering workstation’s primary display. “A dimensional shift does appear to have occurred, but the effect on this device is most unusual. According to our sensor readings, the object is holding steady at a point where it has only partially transitioned from our dimension.” He turned from the console. “Based on the available information, I theorize that this device is deliberately occupying a fixed point between at least two separate dimensions.”

  “What about that communication signal?” asked Yar. The security chief was propping herself against the tactical station with one hand, her stance allowing her to lean toward the railing behind the captain’s chair.

  La Forge replied, “We’ve got the computer working on it, but it doesn’t seem to be aimed at anything in our vicinity. It’s on such a low-power frequency that it’d take years—maybe decades—for someone to pick it up, and even then it’s a long shot.” He paused, his gaze shifting to the viewscreen. “It might be transmitting to something in that other dimension, though.”

  “It is even possible that the object is interacting with more than two dimensions,” said Data.

  Having taken her customary seat in the chair next to Riker’s in the command area, Troi asked, “If the planet we’re looking for has also shifted from our dimension, could the buoy somehow be in contact with it?”

  “That is an intriguing possibility, Counselor,” replied the first officer. “The signatures from the quantum fluctuations it appears to be generating are similar to what we recorded from the planet, though on a much smaller scale. An examination of the device’s internal components could prove most enlightening.”

  “Yeah,” said La Forge, “but the trick is that because it’s locked in this odd phase shift, we can’t scan inside it. The only way we’d likely have a chance is if it shifted completely back to our dimension.”

  Riker descended the ramp on the bridge’s port side and made his way to his chair. “Any chance we could find a way to make it complete that shift?”

  “Perhaps,” said Data, “but without more information, we cannot know whether such action might have a detrimental effect, either on the buoy or anything else in the immediate vicinity.”

  “Let’s try to avoid that, then,” offered Pulaski, who had been standing quietly at the back of the bridge, observing the proceedings. The doctor now was moving to the command area and, without waiting for an invitation, took the seat normally reserved for Data. “I know we decided these odd fluctuations didn’t pose a danger to the crew, Captain, but that was before we started talking about messing around with alien technology that’s obviously doing some strange things.”

  Riker said, “Your concern’s appreciated, Doctor. We’re not going to be charging blindly into anything. We’ve taken our time to this point, and I don’t see any reason to alter that. Data, Geordi, Wes: You three continue your investigation. I want to know who or what that buoy is talking to.” Glancing at the chronometer set into the arm of his chair, Riker saw that it was close to eleven hundred hours, shipboard time. “Mister Data, what time is it at Starfleet Headquarters?”

  Without hesitating, the first officer replied, “Oh-two-fifty-one hours, sir.”

  Releasing a small chuckle that made Troi and Pulaski regard him with similar expressions of surprise, Riker smiled. “Middle of the night. Seems like the perfect time to update Admiral Jellico.”

  Troi said, “Will, really?”

  “Really.”

  “You’re an evil man, Captain William Riker,” added Pulaski, and he heard the note of approval in her voice.

  “Evil?” Riker shook his head. “No. Just obeying orders and keeping my superiors informed.”

  8

  ELSEWHERE

  “Ow.”

  Blinking several times in rapid succession did nothing to alleviate the visual chaos that seemed to be dominating T’Ryssa Chen’s vision, and that frenzy was now manifesting itself as a headache that felt as though her skull might come apart. She started to reach for her temples, realizing in midmotion that she was still wearing her environmental suit, and her helmet and faceplate remained in place.

  “Is everyone all right?” asked Worf, who like Taurik had moved from the Spinrad’s cockpit into the shuttle­craft’s passenger compartment.

  Shifting in her seat, Chen saw the Enterprise’s first officer assisting Doctor Tropp from the deck back to one of the bench seats, while Taurik was offering a hand to Lieutenant Konya. Beyond them near the shuttle’s rear hatch, Lieutenant Cruzen was examining the control pad on her EV suit’s left wrist, as though inspecting it for damage. Her right hand was pressed against the side of her helmet as though she, too, were trying to massage her head.

  “You know how we take shore leave on some planet?” said Cruzen, now apparently satisfied that her suit or its controls had not been compromised. “We drink too much of the local spirits instead of sticking with synthehol, and we end up with headaches that could split fault lines?”

  Groaning as he allowed Taurik to pull him to his feet, Konya replied, “Yeah?”

  “I wish I felt that good right now.”

  Konya offered a rough, dry laugh, followed by a cough. “Copy that.” Turning in his seat, he cast a look at Chen. “You okay?”

  Hearing the mixture of professional and personal concern in his voice, she nodded. “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’ll live. Lucky you, right?” He ended the question with a smile. Though he tended to avoid displays of affection in public, and certainly while on duty, Konya did allow himself the occasional deviation, which often had the effect of embarrassing her. Right on schedule, she felt her cheeks warming in response t
o his infectious grin and even the mischievous leer he directed her way. She reached over and punched him in the arm.

  “Behave yourself.”

  Having regained his feet, Tropp asked, “Is anyone else suffering ill effects from . . . whatever that was?”

  Other than bruises as well as head and muscle aches and—in Konya’s case—a sprained wrist, which the doctor was able to treat in moments with the help of his medical kit, there were no other serious injuries. After verifying that the shuttlecraft’s internal atmosphere had not been compromised, Worf instructed everyone to remove their helmets, which afforded Tropp the opportunity to administer analgesics and anti-inflammatory agents to everyone.

  “Any idea what happened?” asked Chen as she rubbed the sides of her head. The medication Tropp had given her acted fast, but she was still experiencing residual pain. “The last thing I remember was everything spinning and then my vision going to hell.”

  After the somewhat harrowing landing to which Worf and Taurik had brought the Spinrad on the planet’s surface, there had barely been time to assess damage and injuries before everyone aboard the shuttlecraft began experiencing what Chen could only describe as an odd vertigo. A sensation not unlike nausea swept over her, and she even felt herself break out in a cold sweat as wind seemed to howl in her ears. Light and color flooded her vision, washing away everything and everyone around her. The entire effect faded within seconds, leaving her panting and partially blinded until her awareness returned, and Chen found herself staring at her equally bewildered and disheveled shipmates.

  Once more seated at his controls in the Spinrad’s cockpit, Taurik replied, “Based on the surge in power levels from the subterranean facility as well as the spike in quantum energy readings, coupled with our apparent inability to contact the Enterprise even though our communications equipment is undamaged, I am beginning to believe that we have experienced an interdimensional shift.”

  Cruzen, having risen to her feet, made her way to the front of the passenger area. “You’re saying we’re still here on the planet, but in a different dimension?”

  “No,” replied Chen. Though she was listening to Taurik, she also was examining scan data from her own workstation behind the cockpit. “Our sensors are still functional—at least to a point—and I’m not picking up any sign of the Enterprise, but there’s something else.” She pointed to a collection of information scrolling past on one of her console’s display screens. “The nebula’s not there, either.”

  “Want to run that by us again?” asked Konya.

  Instead, Taurik replied, “NGC 8541 no longer appears on any of our scans.”

  Worf said, “You are saying that the planet itself has moved from one dimension to another?”

  “Based on the available information,” said the Vulcan engineer, “that is the most likely explanation. I am still unable to get a sensor lock on the source of the quantum fluctuations. It is there, but it is as though it is protected by a force field or other scattering technology. Were the shuttlecraft capable of flight, we could ascend to orbit and attempt to gain a fix on our position using the stellar cartography database in the onboard computer, but I am afraid that without repairs to our propulsion system, that is not a viable option at this time.”

  “Any chance we can make some repairs ourselves?” asked Chen. “You’re a pretty good engineer, last time I checked, and I’m not exactly a slouch in that department. Between the two of us, we should be able to jury-rig something, right?”

  Taurik seemed to consider the possibility before shaking his head. “Given sufficient time and tools, we might be able to devise a temporary solution that would allow us to attain orbit and perhaps attempt to contact the Enterprise. My preliminary examination of the damage to our systems leads me to conclude that such a solution is beyond our current capabilities. However, I have not yet had the opportunity to examine the engines from outside. Doing so will require us to don our suit helmets and depressurize the shuttlecraft interior.” He turned to Worf. “With your permission, Commander?”

  “We will all go,” replied the first officer. “Konya and Cruzen, draw phaser rifles from the weapons locker and establish a secure perimeter outside the shuttlecraft.” He pointed in what everyone now knew was the general direction of the group of buildings several hundred meters south of the Spinrad’s current position. “Just in case. Every­one else will carry standard sidearms. Set phasers to stun, and . . . we shall see what happens.”

  The security officers exchanged glances, and Chen knew what they were thinking. Along with the interference already being experienced with transporters, sensors, and even communications, the quantum fluctuations permeating the planet’s surface were also having an adverse effect on phasers. Lieutenant Elfiki had been the one to break that good news as part of the away team’s final briefing, warning them that the weapons would be unreliable at best.

  “Unreliable is better than nothing,” remarked Cruzen at the time.

  Given the limited number of life-forms on the surface and the apparent absence of anything resembling weapons that could pose a threat to the shuttlecraft or even the Enterprise, Worf had expressed confidence in the team’s ability to carry out their mission. If a Klingon warrior could handle it, Chen decided she could, as well.

  It took only moments for the away team to put on their helmets and reestablish the seals of their individual EV suits before Taurik keyed the controls to remove the atmosphere from the shuttlecraft’s interior. With a final nod from Worf to proceed, the engineer pressed another key on his console.

  “Opening rear hatch,” he called out, and the team turned their attention aft as the heavy door that formed the Spinrad’s aft bulkhead began to lower. Chen was not surprised to see the near darkness that greeted them, broken only by the shuttle’s exterior lighting and illumination from the distant cluster of buildings. Then she realized that she had expected to see something else.

  “Hey. That odd luminosity we saw before? What happened to it?”

  Carrying an open and activated tricorder in his gloved hand, Taurik replied, “Interesting. I am detecting no residual energy or radiation signatures that might account for that effect.”

  “We can investigate that later,” said Worf, “after we ascertain the damage to the shuttle.”

  Taurik turned toward the Spinrad. “Understood, Commander.”

  “I can help with the inspection,” said Chen, reaching for the tricorder that rested in its holster on her left hip. She had only given the shuttlecraft a quick visual once-over after disembarking, scrutinizing the dents and tears in the compact vessel’s port warp nacelle. She had predicted that much, judging from the broken, uneven soil surrounding them, from which jutted portions of rocks and boulders of varying shapes and sizes. Behind the Spinrad and extending for several dozen meters, she saw the trail carved into the ground by the shuttle as it had come in for its rough landing. The newly plowed soil rested on either side of the shallow ditch, and Chen saw bits of crystal and other minerals mixed in with the pale dirt.

  “I’m in position twenty meters in front of the shuttle,” reported Konya, and Chen shifted her stance so she could see where he now stood, wielding the phaser rifle he had withdrawn from the Spinrad’s weapons compartment. His tone indicated he was all business now, his attention focused on his responsibilities and the safety of the rest of his team.

  “I’ve got our backs,” said Cruzen, and Chen saw that the security officer had moved in a straight line from the Spinrad’s rear hatch and now was standing with her own phaser rifle at the same approximate distance from the shuttle as Konya. The weapon was cradled in the crook of her right arm as she studied a tricorder in her left hand, searching for signs of anyone approaching.

  Her attention once more on the shuttlecraft’s port nacelle, Chen used her tricorder to confirm her initial damage estimate. “There’s some minor buckling over here, but I think
we can work with it.”

  Though he was on the other side of the shuttle, Taurik’s voice still sounded loud and clear in her helmet speakers. “The starboard nacelle has ruptured. I am afraid repairing it is beyond the limits of the resources we have available. However, if the port nacelle has not suffered significant damage, we should still be able to achieve orbit and return to the Enterprise.”

  Chen’s tricorder warbled as she pointed it at the Spinrad’s port nacelle. “We’ll want to run a full diagnostic on it just to be sure, but so far I’m not seeing anything that’s a deal breaker.” She caught sight of Taurik stepping around the shuttle’s slanted bow, his own tricorder aimed at the side of the craft.

  “Though there is some minor structural damage as a consequence of the landing, I am detecting no signs of a hull breach.” He reached to adjust one of the tricorder’s settings. “The deflector shield emitters on the underside are also damaged.”

  “All things considered,” said Chen, “we were pretty lucky.”

  Tropp said, “A testament to the flying skills of both Commander Worf and Mister Taurik.”

  “Heads up, everybody,” said Cruzen. “We’ve got company coming from the structures.”

  That didn’t take long, thought Chen. The rest of the away team moved to where Cruzen was standing, facing away from the Spinrad and toward the cluster of buildings. Despite the low lighting, Chen was able to make out a half-dozen figures walking across the rocky, uneven ground.

  “Six of them, six of us,” said Konya, who, unlike the rest of the team, had elected to take up a position near the shuttlecraft’s open rear hatch. “Coincidence?”

  Cruzen, her tricorder still in her left hand, had adjusted her grip on her phaser rifle so that its barrel now lay atop her left arm with her right hand on its grip, ready to fire if necessary. “They’re not armed. Not even a knife or club. They’re wearing a type of environmental suit, but not as advanced as ours. Instead of atmospheric regenerators, they’re simply carrying tanks with whatever it is they’re breathing.”