Headlong Flight

by Dayton Ward

  “There’s more,” said Crusher. He tapped another control on the console and the display shifted to show a total of five such graphs, each with their own sequences of peaks, valleys, and markings indicating periods of intense data transmission.

  “According to the logs we’ve decrypted so far, there are four other buoys just like this one, each deployed to a different dimension. These transmissions all contain encoded information pertaining to specific quantum signatures.”

  Data said, “Our conclusion is that the planet is shifting between five dimensions at random intervals and at an irregular rate, and doing so with no discernible pattern for which dimension is visited.”

  “But why?” Riker frowned. “Why go to all this trouble just to bounce an entire planet around like that. For what purpose? Is it all deliberate, or just a massive accident?” Was what they were seeing inspired by curiosity and a quest for knowledge, or was something more sinister in play? Or, was it simply a bizarre but natural phenomenon of a sort never before encountered? Each possibility warranted further investigation, but it would help to know the motivations of whoever or whatever was responsible for all of this.

  “There is the warning we received from the planet to consider,” Data offered. “Though only a portion of it was intelligible, the intent of the sender seems rather explicit in their wish to have us stay away from the planet.”

  “They also said that what was happening was of their own doing.” La Forge reached up to rub his temple where his VISOR connected to the port on the right side of his head, and Riker noted the other man’s slight frown. “They know what and why this is happening.”

  Riker asked, “You all right, Geordi?”

  The chief engineer nodded. “Just tired, sir. We’ve been staring at this stuff for a while now. I’ll be fine.” Clearing his throat, he indicated the display screen. “Here’s something else. So far as we can tell based on our analysis of residual quantum energy readings we scanned from the planet itself, it’s not from any of the five dimensions where a buoy is deployed.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in, after which Riker scowled as he began to comprehend La Forge’s meaning. “Wait, you’re saying this planet is randomly bouncing around between five different dimensions, and none of them are its point of origin?”

  “That is correct, sir,” replied Data. “Our analysis shows that since entering this cycle, the planet has not returned to its own dimension. Based on this preliminary analysis, we suspect the planet was never intended to be transported in this fashion. Instead, it was meant to act as the anchor point in what appears to be a rudimentary transdimensional network, with the buoys providing target locations for any ships or other objects designed to make the transition.”

  “And if that’s true, it means something went seriously wrong somewhere,” said Crusher.

  La Forge managed a tired grin. “He’s been working on his understatements, sir. Data has been coaching him.”

  Grateful for the momentary levity, Riker replied, “Keep up the good work.”

  An alert from the tactical station made them turn to where Tasha Yar was leaning over the console.

  “Sensors just picked up a deviation in the buoy’s comm signal, sir,” reported the security chief.

  Having moved back to the engineering station, Crusher tapped several commands into the console’s instrument panel. “We instructed the computer to be on the lookout for that and issue a tactical alert, just in case.” After a moment spent studying the sensor readings, he added, “Definitely a spike in the signal, sir.”

  “This might be it,” said La Forge.

  Riker asked, “You’ve got our sensors configured to monitor the buoy throughout the process?”

  The engineer nodded. “Yes, sir. If and when it happens, we’ll be able to record and analyze the whole process.”

  Data said, “I am also attempting to maintain a connection with the buoy’s signal. I have reconfigured our communications array to compensate for the quantum fluctuations. I cannot guarantee success, but I am hopeful it will provide additional insight into the buoy’s role in the transition process.”

  “Outstanding.” Moving away from the engineering station, Riker made his way down the ramp. “Full sensor sweep, Geordi. I don’t want us to miss anything.” Pausing before his seat in the command area, he returned his attention to the mass of multicolored swirling gases that filled the viewscreen.

  “Quantum energy readings are increasing,” reported Data, who also had moved to his own seat and now was consulting the console positioned next to his chair. “I am attempting to predict a time for the planet’s arrival.”

  Riker acknowledged the report, his attention still on the screen. Was it his imagination—perhaps fueled by Data’s observations—or was the nebula more animated, even agitated, than before? Could the mysterious planet’s impending arrival already be having a tangible effect on the space it was set to occupy?

  If that’s the case, then let’s hope it’s a good sign.

  ELSEWHERE

  ChR Bloodied Talon

  “You are certain of these readings?”

  Standing at the sensor station, Darjil nodded, and Sarith saw the nervousness gripping the young centurion. “Yes, Commander. Scans indicate another quantum shift is imminent.”

  “But so soon after the last one?” Her concern mounting as she moved around the bridge’s central hub, Sarith stepped closer to the sensor controls in order to verify the readings with her own eyes. “Why?”

  Darjil replied, “We have insufficient information to . . .” His voice faltered, and he cast his gaze downward before drawing a breath and straightening his posture. “I am unable to answer that question, Commander. I have failed.”

  “No,” countered Ineti. “You cannot be faulted for an inability to grasp something that is beyond all of us, Centurion. Attend your station.” He pointed to the officer manning the communications station. “Contact the shuttle Amidar. Have them return to the ship immediately.”

  Angry with herself far more than any of her subordinates, Sarith turned away from the sensors, fuming. It had been her decision to dispatch a landing craft to the planet’s surface. Working with the information provided by Darjil, she and Ineti had worked out a rough approximation of the minimum amount of time the planet had been present in this dimension following a quantum shift. Sarith then had cut that number in half, leaving her with a window of time she believed would be more than sufficient to gather more detailed information via direct reconnaissance of the alien structures and machinery on and below the ground.

  And yet, the fates have seen fit to smite me.

  “The Amidar’s pilot is contacting us,” reported Centurion Skerius from the communications console. “She reports difficulty with interference from the elevated quantum energy readings. They appear to be affecting all shipboard systems.”

  “It will only get worse if the planet is heading toward another shift,” said Ineti.

  Do you not think I understand that?

  Forcing herself not to give voice to that initial, unfiltered response, Sarith instead asked, “How much time before the shift occurs?”

  “I am unable to determine that with any certainty, Commander,” replied Darjil.

  “We have no more time for your theories, Centurion,” she barked. This was no longer an intellectual exercise. Her people were in danger, and her patience was nearing its end. “Estimate, now!”

  Before Darjil could respond, Skerius called out, “Commander! The shuttle is transmitting a distress message. The pilot is losing control, and reports she will be forced to attempt an emergency landing.”

  “Open the channel,” ordered Sarith, snapping her fingers. A moment later and laced with static, the harried voice of Subcommander Variel, her scouting party’s leader, came over the bridge’s intership system.

  “—perienci
ng turbu . . . able to compensate with shields . . . ulsion system compromi . . . anding on the surface—”

  “Shuttle Amidar,” said Sarith, “if you must land, you need to get away from that area immediately.”

  Darjil said, “Commander, our sensor readings are being corrupted by the heightened quantum fluctuations. I am unable to maintain a solid lock on the Amidar.”

  “Find a way,” Sarith replied. “Draw power from noncritical systems, but I want that lock maintained.”

  Over the open communications channel, Variel called out, “Main engines are offli . . . thrusters only . . . ing our descent. Stand—” A loud pop washed out the rest of the subcommander’s report, causing Sarith to glare at Skerius.

  “What happened?”

  The centurion replied, “Communication lost, Commander. The frequency deteriorated before the signal dissolved altogether. I am attempting to reestablish contact.”

  “I think the shuttle is on the surface, Commander.” It was Darjil, his face almost touching the illuminated screen that provided him with raw data from the Talon’s sensor array. “I am no longer detecting evidence of their propulsion system, and there is no indication of movement.”

  Stepping closer to the sensor station, Ineti asked, “Can you ascertain the Amidar’s condition?”

  “Not with our current sensor capabilities, Subcommander.”

  Sarith said, “Redouble your efforts.” She was already giving thought to deploying another shuttle in a bid to rescue the first group, but prudence demanded she ascertain the first ship’s condition before risking more of her crew. There were also other concerns. “What about the quantum energy readings? Are they still increasing?”

  “Yes, Commander,” replied Darjil. “Well ahead of our most conservative estimates.”

  Ineti said, “We are running out of time.”

  From where he stood at the weapons station, Centurion N’tovek said, “Commander, we could attempt to disrupt or disable the equipment responsible for the shift.”

  “We do not know what damage that might cause on the surface,” replied Ineti. “It could prove hazardous for our scouting party.”

  “The subcommander is correct,” added Darjil. “Any attempt to disrupt the quantum-field generator could produce a variety of unexpected results.”

  Sarith said, “And being exposed to the quantum shift without protection could be hazardous as well.” She harbored no illusions that the shuttle’s hull would provide insulation from the largely unknown effects of that much quantum energy in such close proximity. The transition might well be enough to kill the entire scouting party. While circumstances on more than one occasion had forced her to sacrifice the lives of those under her command, it was an action she always undertook with great reluctance and never without weighing any and all contributing factors. Further, she loathed the idea of facilitating the death of any subordinate as a matter of convenience or for some perceived greater good. She needed the reasoning for such a decision to be without doubt or ambiguity.

  Likewise, leaving to chance the fates of those who looked to her for leadership was also something she could not accept.

  “Target the power source,” she said, moving closer to N’tovek and the weapons station. “Only the power source. None of the surrounding infrastructure, or any of the surface structures. We want to disable, not destroy. Am I clear, Centurion?”

  After all, there is still the praetor’s prize to consider.

  15

  ELSEWHERE

  Ushalon

  The waiting was the worst part.

  There was nothing more for T’Ryssa Chen or her companions to do except wait, just as they had done the last time this sequence of events had played out. Along with the rest of the away team, she watched as Nelidar and the other Sidrac engineers moved between work­stations, checking and rechecking instruments and status indicators. Things were different this time, and with good reason.

  “Is it me,” she said, “or does everyone look more nervous this time?” Now that their presence had become accepted by the Sidrac, she and the rest of the away team were no longer confined to one corner of the observation room. Taurik and Chen had even offered to assist their hosts, but for now stood with their companions, waiting.

  Nelidar, having made a circuit of the observation room to check with each of her colleagues manning a workstation, replied, “This is the first time a transition has happened so soon after a previous shift. We have no precedent for this, and it is the possible cause that is giving us our greatest concern.”

  “Is there a problem?” asked Worf.

  “There has been a change in the signal we are receiving from the probe at target location two. It is unlike anything we have experienced since first deploying the buoys.”

  Chen frowned. “Location two? Didn’t you say that was where you detected another ship?”

  “We transitioned from that point before our encounter with you, Lieutenant.” Nelidar frowned. “Our scanners alerted us to the presence of a vessel in that region as well, but it took no provocative action. We broadcast our usual warning messages, but did not receive a response before we left that dimension.”

  Worf said, “If the ship in that dimension found your buoy, they may be attempting to access it in order to understand its functions.”

  “And that might prove troublesome for us,” replied Nelidar. “If they somehow interfere with the signal, there is no way to know what effect that might have on Ushalon during a shift to that location.”

  Standing next to Chen, Lieutenant Kirsten Cruzen said, “As if we don’t have enough problems.”

  “The Romulan shuttle has landed,” reported Taurik, who had moved to stand near the male Sidrac engineer, Livak. The Vulcan was once more consulting his tricorder, taking advantage of its link to the shuttlecraft Spinrad’s more powerful sensor array. “Seven life signs. Their current position is approximately five hundred meters southwest of our position and eight hundred meters west of our shuttlecraft. I am detecting a hull breach, and at least one possible injury. Given their current circumstances, it is logical to assume they will attempt to come here, as it is the closer destination.”

  Standing next to Chen, Doctor Tropp asked, “Should we not attempt to render assistance?” Along with Lieutenant Rennan Konya, the Denobulan had joined the rest of the team once it became apparent that the Sidrac were not a threat and new problems had arisen.

  Worf replied, “Not until we can ascertain their intentions.” The first officer had already begun consulting with Konya and Cruzen about possible courses of action now that it appeared they were about to have company. “We must assume they will attempt to enter this habitat.”

  “There are four entrances,” said Nelidar. “They can be locked, but they were not meant to withstand a forced intrusion.”

  That made sense, at least to Chen. After all, Ushalon was an uninhabited planet from an unknown star system, as yet undiscovered by other spacefaring species.

  Cruzen said, “Commander Taurik said their technology wasn’t as advanced as ours. Can we jam their scanners and communications with the Spinrad?”

  “An interesting notion.” The Vulcan tapped a series of controls on his tricorder. “I believe that is possible.”

  “I’d hold off on doing that,” said Konya. “Wait until we’re sure they’re heading in our direction and close enough that doubling back looks like a bad idea, then do it. Otherwise, they might decide to head for the shuttle and disable it.”

  Worf nodded. “Good thinking.”

  A deep rumbling from somewhere beneath or outside the room caused everything to tremble or rattle. Lights and consoles flickered, and a new round of alert tones sounded from various stations. Everyone, away team and Sidrac alike, looked around for the source of the tremor.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Konya.

  The o
nly answer he received came in the form of another alert siren, and this time it was one Chen recognized. She turned to see Livak, the male Sidrac engineer, hovering over his control panel. His long, thin fingers moved across his instruments, and his expression was one of near panic.

  “Something struck the field generator complex!” Livak did not look up from his console. “A powerful energy burst, unlike anything I have ever seen.” A moment later, he added, “Quantum readings are increasing, much faster than expected. Another shift is imminent!”

  Taurik said, “The Romulan ship fired on the complex.” His report was calm and matter-of-fact, but Chen heard the barest trace of concern in the Vulcan’s voice. “It is no longer employing its cloaking device, and I am detecting an energy signature consistent with the disruptor cannons of a Vas Hatham–class warship.”

  “Why the hell would they fire for no reason?” asked Konya.

  Chen replied, “They wouldn’t. Could they be trying to stop the next shift?”

  “Possibly,” said Taurik, “but without more information, I am unable to formulate a hypothesis.”

  “Is there any damage?” Nelidar had directed the question to Livak, but he was looking both to her own people and Taurik for possible answers.

  “Aside from some disruption of the surrounding soil and bedrock, I am detecting no obvious damage to the structure itself.” Taurik paused, looking up from his tricorder. “If the field generator is itself trapped in a state of dimensional flux, it may have been protected. However, scans are showing significant disruption of the quantum field itse—”

  The rest of the engineer’s report was drowned out by the return of the alert klaxon, just as Chen felt the first rush of sound in her ears at the same time blinding light washed across her vision. Colors faded as the room around her began to bend and twist, and she thought she caught sight of Rennan Konya reaching for her. His arm seemed to stretch as it drew closer, and for an instant she saw his expression of worry.