Headlong Flight

by Dayton Ward

  “You already determined that Class-M conditions exist inside the structure,” said Tropp.

  Taurik replied, “That is what our scans indicated, ­Doctor.”

  “Since it looks like we’re going to be here a while,” said Cruzen, “maybe we shouldn’t be too picky.”

  Worf, moving to stand in front of the rest of the away team, said, “Lieutenant Cruzen, lower your weapon. Mister Konya, maintain your position. Everyone else, keep your phasers holstered.” Chen almost offered a remark about the first officer’s very un-Klingon attitude toward the new arrivals, but thought better of it.

  Time and place, Lieutenant. In her head, Chen thought she could hear Captain Picard offering the gentle reminder.

  The approaching group stopped with several meters separating them from the away team. All of them appeared humanoid, at least so far as their environmental suits allowed. The protective garments were bulky, comprised of a gray material that Chen guessed was thick and possessing of several layers, with the extremities terminating in oversized boots and gloves. None of the suits possessed any patches or identifying symbols or markings, and each person wore a large rectangular pack on their back, with a tube running from it to the back of the wearer’s helmet. The helmet itself consisted of a large transparent globe, the back half of which was covered by the same material as that used for the suit.

  One of the group members, the apparent leader, held its hands up to its chest, crossing them at the wrists before bowing slightly at the waist. At least to Chen, the gesture seemed obvious.

  Welcome?

  “Lieutenant Chen,” said Worf. “You are our contact specialist.”

  He left any addendum to that sentence unspoken, and Chen realized that was her cue to join him at the front of the group. She glanced at him, hoping her expression conveyed at least some of the uncertainty she felt.

  Use your brain, T’Rrys.

  Holding up her tricorder, she displayed the device to the new arrivals and also showed them her open and empty right hand. With her thumb, she keyed a control on the unit to activate its scan feature.

  “Okay, their suits have communications equipment. It’s just not as sophisticated as ours. The frequencies they use are pretty low, but our transceivers should still be able to adapt.” After providing the correct frequency to the rest of her team, Chen deactivated the tricorder and returned it to its holder on her hip. She then looked to Worf, who nodded in understanding before turning to face the other group.

  “Are you able to hear me?” he asked. “I am Commander Worf, first officer of the Starship Enterprise and representing the United Federation of Planets. We are here on a mission of peaceful exploration and intend no harm toward you.”

  The reaction among the visitors was immediate as they began looking to one another. Then the group’s leader stepped forward and extended its arms away from its body in an obvious signal of greeting.

  “Welcome to our world, travelers.”

  It was a female voice, Chen realized. At least, it had been rendered by the communications system’s universal translation protocols as feminine, and it was familiar.

  “You’re the one from the message,” Chen said. “You warned us to stay away.”

  The new arrival nodded. “Yes, that was me. I am ­Nelidar.” She motioned to the rest of her group. “We call ourselves the Sidrac, but you appear to represent more than one species.”

  With Worf prompting her to continue, Chen replied, “That’s correct. Our Federation is a group of more than one hundred fifty worlds and civilizations.” She indicated the away team. “Just in our group, we represent five different planets.” Pointing first to Worf, she proceeded in turn. “Qo’noS, the Klingon homeworld. Betazed. Denobula. Earth, and in my and Commander Taurik’s case, Vulcan.” Pausing, she smiled. “Actually, I’m part human, so I represent Earth as well.”

  “Incredible,” said Nelidar, and Chen heard the genuine amazement in her voice. Then her expression faltered. “Your Federation sounds quite remarkable, but it is regrettable that you have found yourselves here on our world.”

  Worf asked, “Is this your homeworld?”

  Shaking her head, Nelidar replied, “No. This is—or rather, was—Ushalon, an uninhabitable planet in the star system where our world, Elanisal, is located. It was only through our own hubris and error that this is no longer the case.” She regarded Chen and the others with sadness. “You should have heeded our warnings, travelers.”

  “I don’t think I’m liking the sound of this,” said Cruzen.

  “What are you saying?” asked Worf. “The dimensional shift is not under your control?”

  Nelidar regarded him with sadness. “Not any longer. This world no longer has a home, and now you are trapped here with us.”

  HERE

  U.S.S. Enterprise-E

  Picard stalked the bridge, unhappy. He had quit counting the number of times he had circled the room’s perimeter, his gaze taking in every console, each screen, and every indicator. Nothing was overlooked, to the point that he could tell when even a single status light or gauge changed between his rounds. Each of those was a reason to stop and examine the information being relayed to a particular workstation or processed by one of his officers, and each time brought further disappointment.

  What happened to the planet? Where are my people?

  Around him, his officers were immersed in whatever task demanded their attention, doing their best to provide answers to those very questions, which their captain had been asking for the better part of an hour.

  “Mister La Forge,” said Picard as he completed yet another circuit and found himself once more standing before his chief engineer at the back of the bridge. “Anything?”

  Shaking his head, La Forge sighed. “Not yet, sir, but I’m convinced that what we saw was an interdimensional shift that sent the entire planet . . . somewhere. I just don’t have the first damned clue where that somewhere is.” He indicated the bridge’s main viewscreen. “It could be right there, but occupying space in a completely different dimension, or it could have been transported to another area of space. We just don’t have enough information yet, and unless or until that planet comes back, we’re not liable to get much more.”

  “Do you believe it might come back?” asked Picard.

  La Forge shrugged. “No reason to rule it out, sir. We’re reviewing the sensor logs we took of the area before and after it appeared the first time, and working up what we hope might be a rough timeline. It’ll be a lot of guesswork, at least until the planet shows up a second time, and hopefully it gives us some kind of pattern we can work with.”

  It was not much, but it was more than nothing, and for now that was good enough for Picard. “Make it so,” he said, reaching out to pat the other man on his shoulder. “I know this is a challenging task, Geordi, but I’m glad you’re the one overseeing it.”

  “Then this probably isn’t the best time to tell you that Taurik or Lieutenant Chen are usually the ones better at the numbers and calculations, sir.” The engineer forced a smile. “We’ll find them, Captain. We’ll find all of them.”

  The man’s conviction was heartening, Picard decided, and he had no intention of dampening his chief engineer’s enthusiasm. “Use whatever resources you feel are necessary.” He looked to the viewscreen and the innocent, almost serene image of the NGC 8541 nebula. “That planet is out there, somewhere. Sooner or later, we’ll find it.”

  “Maybe sooner, sir.”

  Both men turned at the sound of Lieutenant Dina Elfiki’s voice, and Picard saw the science officer rising from her chair as though intending to move toward them. Seeing them looking at her, she motioned to her console. “Sensors just found something, Captain.”

  Crossing to the science station, Picard asked, “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “More quantum fluctuations, sir,” replied the
science officer, who had retaken her seat. “Much weaker, and not as widespread, but still there. It would be easy to miss if we hadn’t recalibrated the sensors to be on the lookout for this kind of thing. Plus? There was something else.” Calling up a display of information, she pointed to one column of streaming text.

  “I’ll be damned,” said La Forge, who had moved to stand next to Elfiki, opposite Picard. “A communications signal?”

  Elfiki nodded. “Looks that way, sir.”

  “A signal from what?” asked Picard. “And to whom?”

  Leaning closer to the console, La Forge had begun interacting with another of the station’s displays. “It’s hard to say from this distance, sir. The sensors are still muddled, but it looks like the source is some kind of metallic object, a little under two hundred million kilometers from our current position, toward the center of the nebula.”

  He tapped another control, and an image of the object in question coalesced into view on the compact screen. Though the feed was fraught with static and other artifacts belying the interference the sensors were enduring, Picard was still able to make out a cylindrical shape, along with an assortment of antennae and other attachments that reminded him of a sensor or communications buoy of the type often deployed by ­starships—including the Enterprise—when venturing into previously unvisited regions of space. How many such objects had they left behind them as they continued their exploration of the Odyssean Pass?

  Too many to count, but that’s not really important, just now.

  “I don’t recognize the technology,” said La Forge. “It doesn’t look like it belongs to anybody we know.”

  Picard asked, “Can you intercept the signal?”

  Frowning, the engineer replied, “It’s a bit choppy from our current distance, but if we were to get closer we might be able to do something.”

  “Relay those coordinates to conn,” ordered Picard.

  It took only minutes for the Enterprise to maneuver to the prescribed location, with La Forge and Elfiki continuing to refine the starship’s sensor array. After a few more adjustments and the distance separating them from the mysterious object now considerably smaller, the image on the bridge’s main viewscreen was much improved, including the metal cylinder displayed in sharp relief.

  Except that it was not.

  Picard, having moved to stand with his arms crossed in front of the conn and ops stations, studied the odd object as it seemed to fade in and out of existence, like a faulty transporter beam or holographic projection.

  “Is it caught in some kind of phase variance?” he asked. “Or the midpoint of a dimensional shift?”

  Once again manning the engineering station at the back of the bridge, La Forge replied, “Looks that way, Captain. The flux readings are low, but holding steady. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was deliberately holding a fixed position in the midst of a phase shift.”

  “It’s definitely an unmanned probe or buoy of some kind,” reported Lieutenant Elfiki. “It’s far too small to be a lifeboat, and a bit too big for something like a quantum torpedo. We’re not detecting anything that might be a weapon, though because of the phase variance and the resulting quantum fluctuations, I’m having a hard time getting a good look at its interior. I can’t tell if our scans are being reflected back, or just passing right through the thing. It’s like the sensors don’t even know for sure.”

  La Forge turned from his station and stepped into the bridge’s command well. “One thing we do know for sure.” He pointed to the viewscreen. “The quantum energy readings coming from that are consistent with what we picked up from the planet.”

  “And what about the communications signal?” asked Picard. “Could it be some form of contact with the planet?”

  “It’s as good a guess as any, sir.”

  The engineer returned to his work, leaving Picard to stare at the odd metallic object on the viewscreen. Who had built it and put it there, and for what purpose? Would it lead him to the mysterious planet and his people?

  As good a guess as any.

  No, Picard decided. It was better than a guess. It was hope.

  9

  ELSEWHERE

  Ushalon

  With a sigh of relief she did not even attempt to suppress, T’Ryssa Chen removed her EV suit’s helmet and felt cool air play across her face.

  “These are nice and all,” said Rennan Konya as he pulled his own helmet from his head. “Particularly with how they tend to keep you from dying in a poisonous atmosphere or vacuum, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.”

  Beside him, Kirsten Cruzen replied, “It doesn’t help that you always end up smelling like feet when you take yours off.”

  Konya smiled. “I hardly think I’m the biggest offender in that department.”

  “You might want to take a poll when we get back to the ship.” Cruzen placed her helmet on a shelf set into the gray metal wall of the room into which the away team had been guided upon entering the largest of the buildings. “I was thinking of starting a betting pool.”

  Though she had observations of her own to lend to the discussion, Chen curbed that urge as she took note of Worf and Taurik at the other end of the room. They had removed their EV suits, leaving them dressed only in the gray, form-fitting coveralls that were normally worn beneath the heavier garments. Thinner than regular duty uniforms, the coveralls bore no rank insignia or other accessories except for the communicator badge each officer affixed to his chest. Phasers and tricorders hung from carriers on their hips.

  “Lieutenant Konya,” said Worf, “you and Doctor Tropp will remain with our equipment.”

  While Tropp merely nodded in acknowledgment, Konya replied, “You want me near that doorway, sir?” He waved toward the passageway leading from this room, beyond which Chen could see a larger chamber. Standing along at the threshold of that entry was Nelidar, as though waiting for them to remove their EV gear.

  “Yes,” replied Worf. “Keep your phaser holstered for now. There is no need to foster any . . . ill will.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  For her part, Nelidar seemed unperturbed by the exchange. With her pale white complexion, lack of visible body hair, and piercing, cobalt-blue eyes, the Sidrac appeared almost ghostlike as she seemed to hover near the doorway. Everyone Chen had seen was slight of build, almost gaunt in appearance. A quick tricorder scan had shown this to be a facet of their physiology, rather than a consequence of malnutrition. The Sidrac were long limbed, with three fingers on each hand along with an opposable phalange as the innermost digit. It apparently was a Sidrac custom to dispense with footwear indoors, and Chen observed that Nelidar’s feet were thin. She walked on her toes while the bones of her feet appeared to comprise the lower portion of her legs, giving her lower extremities an almost feline aspect. Like the other Sidrac, Nelidar wore loose-fitting light-blue garments that to Chen looked like pajamas.

  We’re casual, here on the planet from another dimension.

  The room in which they now found themselves was little more than a collection of equipment lockers. At Worf’s direction, the away team had staged their suits on the floor where they would remain visible, while every­one would carry their weapons and other equipment. Chen noticed that neither Nelidar nor other Sidrac—­either those who had accompanied her outside or anyone else inside the complex—had remained to guard their new guests during this process. Instead, they had moved to another room to remove their own suits, and now that Nelidar had returned, she seemed anxious to escort them around, rather than apprehensive.

  Hopefully that’s a good sign.

  “I hope you are comfortable,” said Nelidar as Worf led the team from the changing area. “Despite our differences, we appear to have similar environmental needs.”

  Worf nodded. “We are fine. Thank you.”

  Both Tropp and Taurik had scanned the
structure’s interior once the away team was inside, verifying that the air contained nothing that might be harmful. Though the oxygen content was somewhat richer here compared to normal Class-M conditions, it was well within tolerable levels for humanoids, and Chen realized that she felt more alert and energetic after a few minutes breathing the Sidrac’s atmosphere.

  With Nelidar leading the way, the away team entered a larger, high-ceilinged chamber. The walls and floor were composed of an ash-gray metal, with most of the bulkhead space devoted to displays and consoles that were arrayed with clusters of multicolored controls, indicators, and other gauges. Most of the larger displays and interfaces were labeled with a flowing, curling script. Another set of consoles and workstations was arranged in a horseshoe pattern at the room’s center, each offering a view of the large oval display screen set into the chamber’s forward wall. The screen was inert at the moment, but numerous other screens on the floor and wall stations were active, depicting images or streams of information in the same eye-catching script. Along the walls to her left and right, Chen observed a pair of catwalks with spiral ramps at each end that descended at a gentle angle toward the floor. The backless chairs positioned before the different workstations offered concave seats and padded knee rests for the eight Sidrac working here. Five females and three males, their individual movements made them appear to be not so much working at computer consoles as playing musical instruments. From her vantage point, Chen saw a handful of the display screens and different stations, with a mixture of the beautiful Sidrac script as well as streams of shifting color. Was that a form of information exchange?

  I can’t wait to get a closer look.

  As much as the room interested her, it was the source of the complex’s massive quantum energy readings that now had her attention. The surreptitious scans Chen had taken with her tricorder after changing out of her EV suit had piqued her curiosity. The power levels were unlike anything she had seen before, but the area was either shielded or else the energy fluctuations were simply interfering with her ability to get a closer, more detailed look at the subterranean area’s interior.