Headlong Flight

by Dayton Ward

  “That’s a nice touch.” Chen’s attention had been drawn to the banks of computer equipment lining the observation room’s far wall, where several rows of status indicators and gauges were illuminated or otherwise displaying various bits of information. None of it made any sense to her, but the Sidrac engineers were taking it all in, and none of them seemed alarmed. The familiarity of this process for all of them was evident, leaving only Chen and her companions to worry.

  For the first time, she perceived bright light intruding at the edges of her peripheral vision, and a dull hum now sounded in her ears. Then she saw the workstations and the people around her begin to stretch and ripple. Her stomach heaved and Chen thought she might have to sit down, but she felt a hand on her arm. It was Cruzen, whose expression seemed to have paled as her eyes widened.

  “I take it back,” said Chen. “This isn’t nice. At all.”

  Cruzen started to say something, but Chen lost her words in the howl that roared in her ears. Color drained out of everything before a bright flash made her close her eyes. She reached up to block the illumination’s source, but it surrounded her. Somewhere nearby she heard someone—possibly Cruzen—saying something she could not understand.

  And then it was over.

  The light faded, along with the assault on her hearing, and the nausea that had threatened to wash over her also was gone. Not nearly as pronounced as the first time they had experienced the shift, the effects this time were easier to shake off, and Chen observed that her companions all looked to have weathered the transition in similar fashion.

  Worf, his Klingon countenance fixed, placed a hand on Cruzen’s arm. “Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

  “I’ll be okay, sir,” replied the security officer, her hand still pressed to her stomach. “That was fun, but I’d really rather not make it a habit.”

  “Now for the big question,” said Chen. “Where are we?”

  Stepping away from the group, she moved to where Nelidar stood at the forefront of the U-shaped arrangement of workstations, watching over her colleagues as they already were immersed in various tasks. On the far wall, the banks of computer stations had calmed down, their array of status lights and indicators now idle or dark. Nelidar, noticing her, offered a grim smile.

  “We appear to have successfully completed another transition.” She gestured to her people. “They are conducting our usual review of all systems, looking for problems or anything else requiring our attention, but so far all appears normal.”

  Chen asked, “Which dimension did we shift to?”

  Gesturing to another of her female companions, Nelidar replied, “Bidani is ascertaining that now.”

  The other Sidrac engineer looked up from her console. “According to the quantum signature, we have arrived at target location three.”

  “Having moved from target location one,” said Chen, recalling the details from the information Nelidar had shared with the away team as part of her extended explanation of the network established by the Sidrac scientists and their communications buoys. “And location five before that.” Location five was the one she wanted to hear, as that dimension was where the Enterprise waited.

  Location five was home.

  Still, Chen could not help but be intrigued by what this represented. Before them was yet another plane of existence, separate from their own. How similar was it to the dimension they had left behind? What wonders awaited them here, and what might they find if they were to go exploring? The possibilities were astounding, she knew, and the opportunity presented by the Sidrac technology was too great to ignore.

  Maybe someday, after we get home, and possibly figure out how to better control the process?

  “All systems are optimal,” reported Livak, who had risen from his seat and moved away from his station as he approached Nelidar. “The quantum energy output has declined as expected.”

  “For now, anyway,” said Chen. “Right?”

  Nelidar replied, “That is correct. As always, we will monitor the energy readings in order to prepare for the next transition.”

  Movement to her right made Chen turn to see Taurik approaching them, his tricorder once more open and activated.

  “I have had the Spinrad’s sensors conducting active scans throughout this process,” said the Vulcan. “With the data we are collecting, we can analyze the field generator’s output and perhaps find a way to circumvent it, or at least disconnect it from the primary power source. The challenge will be doing so while avoiding a future transition.”

  “Yeah,” said Chen, “I’m thinking we don’t want to be messing around with the machinery while sailing between dimensions.”

  Taurik nodded. “Indeed.” His tricorder beeped, and he studied the unit’s compact display, and Chen saw how his right eyebrow rose as though he was surprised by the readings.

  “Trouble?” she prompted.

  “Perhaps.” Looking up from the tricorder, he turned to Worf. “Commander?”

  Along with Cruzen, the first officer moved to join Taurik and Chen. “Yes?”

  “The shuttlecraft’s sensors have detected three ships in proximity to the planet, sir.” He paused, looking at his colleagues before adding, “They are not in orbit, but seem to be maintaining station within scanning range. Our sensor readings indicate they are Romulan vessels.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Cruzen.

  Worf scowled. “You are certain?”

  “Yes,” said the engineer. “There is something else. If the readings are accurate, the ships appear to be of a design and level of technology we would consider obsolete. One vessel is a Vas Hatham–class warship, accompanied by two smaller, Mularr-class escorts.”

  “The Romulans haven’t used ships from either of those classes for almost a century,” said Cruzen. “Is there anything to indicate they might be restored or refurbished? Maybe it’s not Romulans, but civilian freight haulers or someone else who got lucky at a surplus depot.”

  Taurik replied, “According to the Spinrad’s sensors, the vessels appear to be in perfect working order and possess armaments and other features consistent with ships in the prime of their operational life cycle. All three ships are cloaked, but the shuttle’s scans were still able to detect them, suggesting outdated stealth technology.”

  “So,” said Chen, “either somebody’s pulled a couple of antique ships out of mothballs and taken them for a joyride, or . . .”

  “Or it is possible that in addition to our dimensional shift, a temporal transition has also occurred.” Taurik’s right brow arched again. “Intriguing.”

  Standing next to Chen and listening to the exchange in silence to this point, Nelidar asked, “Temporal transition? Are you suggesting we have moved to a different point in time?”

  “Perhaps not in the strictest sense,” offered Taurik, “though I am at present unable to offer further analysis, as this not a situation for which I have any comparison.”

  Cruzen crossed her arms. “What he means is that this is all pretty new to us, and that’s saying something.”

  “You indicated the ships were not in orbit,” said Worf, “but they were in scanning range. That implies they may have been waiting for the planet to reappear in this dimension.” Turning to Nelidar, he asked, “Have you detected anything during your previous shifts to suggest the planet was being observed?”

  The Sidrac shook her head. “No, not at first. However, during the past few visits to this location, our scans did detect peculiar energy readings, which we at first thought might be an orbiting vessel, but we were unable to confirm that, and neither did anyone answer our attempts to communicate.”

  “Romulans wouldn’t have answered,” said Cruzen, “and their cloaking technology likely shielded them from your scans, at least enough to confuse your readings.”

  Nelidar frowned. “So, you are familiar with these . . . Romulans?�
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  “Afraid so,” said Chen, “though where we come from, their technology is much more advanced than what we seem to have here.”

  Worf grunted. “If the Romulans have been monitoring this region for some time, then they will be aware of the planet’s behavior. It is possible they are observing from a distance in an attempt to predict the planet’s appearances in this dimension, and if they have scanned your field generator and other technology, they likely will want to investigate further.”

  “And unlike us,” said Cruzen, “they’re not very friendly.”

  “They would not harm us?” asked Nelidar, but Chen could see that she already suspected the answer to her own question.

  “If they feel there is a strategic advantage to be gained by seizing your technology,” replied Taurik, “most Romulan military commanders have no compunction about killing anyone who might present resistance.” To Worf and the others, he said, “If they are observing the planet, then they likely know that they are unable to access the field generator directly. However, I do not expect that to dissuade them indefinitely.”

  Worf nodded. “Agreed. The Romulans may be coming. We must be ready.”

  ChR Bloodied Talon

  Examining the sensor readouts for herself, Sarith was still struck by disbelief.

  “Where could it have come from?” she asked, pointing to the computer-generated image of the mysterious craft sitting on the surface of the equally enigmatic world that had chosen to appear just moments earlier.

  “I do not know, Commander,” replied Darjil, once again standing at stiff attention, having stepped away from his station to give Sarith clear access to the console. “I have rechecked the sensor logs, and it was not there during our previous scans. It is as though it materialized from nothing.”

  Scrutinizing the odd little ship, Sarith realized it looked at once familiar and alien to her. “It resembles a Starfleet shuttlecraft,” she said, more to herself than Darjil or anyone else, “and yet there is something about it that seems wrong.”

  “If anything,” said Ineti, who had moved to stand next to her, “it looks more advanced than anything we have seen. Perhaps Starfleet has been fielding new shuttle designs, but I find it hard to believe this would escape the notice of our spies.”

  Considering this, Sarith said, “Unless there is something about this particular vessel that makes it of heightened value to Starfleet. Some experimental propulsion or weapons system, or perhaps even a cloaking device of their own.”

  “There have been no indications that the Federation has made any attempts at cloaking technology,” said Darjil.

  “And you are informed as to the latest developments in Starfleet tactical research, Centurion?” Ineti’s question was enough to make the younger Romulan bow his head.

  Properly chastised, Darjil said, “My apologies, Subcommander. It was not my intention to speculate aloud.”

  “Never mind that now,” snapped Sarith. Her enthusiasm at being given another opportunity to study the odd planet had been dampened by the realization that someone, somehow had landed near the cluster of buildings that was the only sign of life on the surface. Had the Earth people somehow found a way to best them, even here in this remote region of unclaimed space far from their borders?

  Impossible.

  She motioned to the sensor display. “What can you tell me about the craft?”

  Darjil replied, “It does bear a resemblance to known forms of Starfleet shuttlecraft, Commander, but its propulsion and weapons systems appear far more advanced than anything on record.”

  “Perhaps our agents behind enemy lines are not as effective as their reputation suggests,” said Ineti. “If something like this has escaped their notice, what other Federation secrets have they failed to uncover?”

  It was generally suspected, if not outright believed, that Romulan agents had for some time been conducting all manner of clandestine surveillance of Federation and Starfleet interests. No one in any position of military or civilian authority had ever officially confirmed such allegations, but the sort of information given to ship commanders and other military leaders by the government gave credence to the notion. Rumors abounded of covert operatives skulking deep behind enemy lines, some even embedded as children after being surgically altered to appear human and living in secret for years until such time as they worked their way into positions of influence or access within Starfleet or the Federation government. Similar initiatives had been perpetrated against other adversaries and parties of interest to the Empire, but Sarith had never seen any evidence of such agents working within the Federation. If true, it would be a triumph of intelligence gathering, and while she suspected such activities were taking place, they were closely guarded secrets. The cost of discovery was far too high, likely resulting in renewed conflict with old enemies that perhaps even the praetor did not want.

  At least, not yet.

  “So, we have a new ship on the surface,” she said. “Are there additional life-forms, as well?”

  Darjil turned back to his instruments and after a moment replied, “Our scans do indicate a small increase in the total number of life readings, but the continuing interference is such that I am unable to determine a specific number or differentiate between species.”

  “But someone is there,” said Ineti. “Someone who may have interests similar to our own.”

  This time, the centurion elected to say nothing, leaving the speculation to his superior officers. Instead, it was Sarith who replied, “If so, then we must act.” She needed more information about these new arrivals and what, if any, threat they might pose. With her ship’s sensors compromised by the energy waves washing over the planet, there was only one alternative.

  “Ineti, prepare a scouting party.”

  14

  ELSEWHERE

  U.S.S. Enterprise-D

  Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  How many times had that teasing thought danced across his subconscious? Riker had given up keeping count. The joke was funny several hours ago when someone, likely La Forge, had made it, but now like his patience was wearing thin. Standing in silence before the bridge’s main viewscreen, his arms crossed as he gazed once more upon the Spindrift Nebula, he could not help the feeling of restlessness that had begun to assert itself. While the nebula was beautiful and just the sort of spatial phenomenon his science department could spend weeks if not months studying, it had lost its appeal for him. Riker realized it was not the nebula’s fault, at least not beyond the extent that it seemed to be conspiring against him as it stubbornly refused to yield its most tantalizing of secrets.

  A little overly dramatic, Captain. Don’t you think?

  His feelings of agitation, minor though they may be, were only compounded by the fact that he was forced to wait, giving his people the time they needed to complete their work in order to provide him with information upon which he might make a decision. Waiting was not something with which Riker had ever been comfortable, and it was only after his promotion and the ceding of his former responsibilities to Data that he realized just how much a captain was required to do nothing except allow others to do their duties. As first officer, his role had been one of coordination, overseeing the efforts of the crew as they accomplished whatever tasks were required of them. There never seemed to be enough time to manage everything, and that was before a situation’s urgency increased all the way to full-blown emergency. All the while, Captain Picard would sit at the center of the maelstrom of activity, silent and stoic as though evaluating every iota of information sent his way. Was it possible that Picard, even just for the briefest of moments when all seemed calm around him, had just been bored? The thought made Riker smile, and he even glanced around to make sure no one was observing him.

  I just wish you were here to tell me.

  “Captain.”

  Turning from the vie
wscreen, Riker saw that Data, who had been sitting in his seat moments ago, was now standing at the rear of the bridge with Geordi La Forge and Wesley Crusher. The pair had become semipermanent fixtures there during the past several hours, and Riker knew that fatigue had to be weighing on them by this point. Two gamma shift ensigns were positioned at the conn and ops positions, while Lieutenant Yar moved between her own tactical console and those forward stations, overseeing the junior officers and leaving Data free to assist La Forge and Crusher.

  “Mister Data?” he said as he started moving toward them.

  The first officer waited until Riker joined them before replying. “We have made a breakthrough, sir.”

  “I’ll say,” added La Forge, before tapping Crusher on the arm with the back of his hand. “Well, maybe you should say.”

  Crusher explained, “We’ve been able to decrypt more of the buoy’s communication logs, Captain.” He touched a control on the engineering console and Riker was greeted with the familiar graphic of the alien probe’s transmission stream, only now it featured several more deviations, each with its own time code.

  “It’s a complete history of its transmissions, from the time of its original deployment, including each instance of the planet’s interaction with this dimension.”

  Riker smiled. “Now we’re talking.”

  “As our earlier research indicated,” said Data, “the logs show a marked deviation in the signal as well as recorded and transmitted information each time the planet moves to or from our dimension. The largest spike comes during those times when the planet is here, and tapers off after it transitions to another dimension.”

  La Forge pointed to the screen. “It’s like a data dump whenever the planet shows up. The pattern is consistent for that, at least, with a larger data transmission being the first thing that happens following transition. It also receives information back. Most of it is still encrypted, but we’re guessing the probe essentially fires off whatever data can’t be transmitted between dimensions and then receives some kind of update from . . . well, I guess you’d call it the home base.”