Star Trek: Vanguard: What Judgments Come

by Dayton Ward

  “Exactly,” al-Khaled said, his voice low. He looked to Xiong, and both men shared a look of horrific understanding before the engineer moved back to his console and called up another status graphic. “The microfissures are increasing,” he said, then reached for his station’s intercom switch. “Al-Khaled to engineering. Cut all power to the subspace relay. Stand by to divert that power to the isolation chamber’s containment field.”

  “Mister al-Khaled,” said Captain Okagawa from the still-open channel to the bridge. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to keep the artifact from shattering, sir,” al-Khaled said, his fingers almost a blur across his console as Xiong watched him work. “If we can’t do that, then we’ll have to eject the chamber.”

  The statement made Xiong look up toward the cargo bay’s massive, reinforced hatch, the only thing separating the compartment from open space. If the crystal was unable to contain the Shedai entity it held, there would be no other option, and that likely would not be sufficient to protect them from attack if the creature broke free. Phaser strikes from the Lovell or Vanguard might work, but it was not an option Xiong was anxious to explore. “Can you halt the degradation?”

  “I don’t know.” Al-Khaled said nothing else, so intent was he on his work, but Davis pointed to his own console.

  “Power readings are spiking inside the crystal,” he said, his face a mask of confusion. “How is that even possible? We’ve cut off everything.”

  Xiong knew the answer. “It’s the Shedai. It must have found a way to refocus the energy we were expending to penetrate the crystal with our signal.”

  “The cracks are getting worse,” al-Khaled said, his words now laced with tension. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop it.”

  Over the intercom, Carol Marcus’s voice had grown louder and more anxious. “Ming, you need to jettison the chamber. Now.”

  “She’s right,” zh’Rhun said as she moved to the still-active intercom panel on the bulkhead to her left. “Captain, are you hearing this? Move us away from the station and have ship’s phasers on standby.”

  • • •

  “Alert Vanguard that we’re preparing to eject the containment chamber.”

  The voice of Commander zh’Rhun blared from the speakers around the Lovell’s bridge, and Daniel Okagawa wasted no time putting his first officer’s directions into motion. Pointing to his helm officer, Lieutenant Sasha Rodriguez, he snapped, “Do it. Evasive course away from the station, any heading. Take us to a distance of fifty thousand kilometers and bring us to a full stop.” Looking over his shoulder to the communications station, he added, “Pzial, notify Vanguard that we’re going hot.”

  Ensign Folanir Pzial, a Rigellian and one of the Lovell’s junior communications officers, replied, “Aye, sir.” Okagawa heard the anxiety in her voice, and tried not to dwell on how much it mirrored his own. After a moment, she said, “Captain, we’re receiving an advisory from Vanguard’s weapons control. Phasers and photon torpedoes are standing by.” She paused before adding, “They want us to know that they’re targeting the Lovell.”

  Nodding at the report, Okagawa said, “Not surprising. If that thing gets out of the cargo bay, it’s likely to head right for the station.” He knew that Admiral Nogura would be ready for this course of action, one that had been discussed when outlining the plan to attempt communication with the Shedai entity contained within the odd alien crystal. If the creature locked inside the mysterious orb managed to escape, Carol Marcus and her team believed it would target Starbase 47 itself, perhaps repeating its attempt to come after the Mirdonyae artifact contained within the station’s top-secret research facility. The station had already felt the alien’s wrath once, and Nogura was unlikely to want a repeat of that experience.

  “Approaching fifty thousand kilometers from the station, sir,” reported Rodriguez from the helm. “Preparing to answer full stop.”

  Pzial said, “Captain, Vanguard control reports the Sagittarius is powering up with orders to follow us.”

  “And do what?” Okagawa asked, then waved away the question. “Never mind.” Though he had nothing but respect for CaptainNassir and the crew of the compact Archer-class scout, there would be precious little the ship could do if the situation became a shoot-out with an escaped Shedai entity.

  Then the voice of Commander zh’Rhun erupted from the speakers. “Bridge, the crystal is breaking down! We’re losing containment!”

  “Jettison the container!” Okagawa ordered, but instead of a response from his first officer, he heard only the sounds of metal rending and twisting.

  The Shedai was breaking free.

  36

  Alarm klaxons echoed in the cargo bay, and most of the status indicators on the various consoles overseeing the operation glowed and blinked red. Xiong felt sweat running down his back as he watched al-Khaled’s and Davis’s frantic efforts to keep the situation under control.

  They were failing.

  “Jettison the container!” shouted Captain Okagawa, his voice blasting through the intercom. Commander zh’Rhun started to reply, but then a new sound rang in the cargo bay: metal being stressed.

  “The crystal’s gone!” al-Khaled snapped, his attention split between his workstation and the isolation chamber, which was now shaking on the deck plates. Xiong looked at the monitor with its audiovisual feed from inside the chamber and saw that the Mirdonyae Artifact had disappeared, and in its place was a roiling, amorphous black mass. It appeared to be bouncing around the container’s interior, and Xiong could see dents and other rends in the bulkhead panels. Outside the chamber, tell-tale blue flashes of energy sparked each time the container shifted its position and came into contact with the surrounding force field.

  “Engineering!” Davis called out. “Full power to the containment system!”

  Over the intercom, the voice of the Lovell’s chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Moves-With-Burning-Grace, replied, “You’ve got everything we can push through, Lieutenant. Anything more and the circuits will overheat.”

  Davis growled in mounting frustration as he continued to work his console. “Son of a bitch! I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”

  “It’s not,” al-Khaled confirmed, before glancing over his shoulder to zh’Rhun. “Evacuate. Everybody out of the secondary hull. Now.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Xiong asked, incredulous.

  “Just do it!” al-Khaled snapped.

  Beside him, Davis added, “The field might hold for a couple of minutes, but only if I can keep the power levels steady. That thing in there is siphoning the power at an exponential rate. If we jettison the chamber, the field drops and it’ll be free.”

  “At which point,” Xiong said, “it will likely attack the Lovell.”

  “Exactly,” Davis replied. “But if we hurry, we can get everybody out of the secondary hull, separate, and let Vanguard blow this section to hell.” As though in response to the engineer’s statement, the isolation chamber shuddered, eliciting another flash of energy as it bounced against the inside of the containment force field.

  Xiong realized what was being proposed. “But someone has to stay back to maintain the field levels.”

  “Right,” al-Khaled said. “Davis is rotating the field frequencies, trying to keep the Shedai from locking into it and drawing power that much faster. The longer we wait, the less that trick’s going to matter.”

  Moving to the wall-mounted intercom, zh’Rhun slapped the activation control with the palm of her hand. “This is Commander zh’Rhun. Commence immediate emergency evacuation of the secondary hull. This is not a drill. Repeat: This is not a drill.” She punctuated her order by smacking the panel’s Red Alert control, at which time a louder, more intense alarm siren began wailing in the cargo bay. She then turned back to Xiong and the others. “The three of you: out.”

  “I can’t,” Davis said, not taking his attention from his console. “I’m making manual adjustment
s to the field settings. There’s no time to teach you what needs to be done, Commander.”

  Zh’Rhun hesitated not one instant. “Fine. I’m staying with you in case you need help. Al-Khaled, Xiong, see to the evacuation of this section.”

  “Commander,” said Okagawa over the intercom, “I’m not liking what I’m hearing.”

  Appearing to ignore the captain’s comment, zh’Rhun pointed to Xiong and al-Khaled before gesturing to the cargo bay’s exit. “Move!” Then, in a somewhat softer tone, she added, “Hold the door, and contact me when everyone’s out. We’ll come running.”

  Al-Khaled paused, sharing with the first officer a meaningful look that Xiong understood to be an unspoken exchange of mutual respect from two shipmates who together had seen and experienced their share of trials and challenges. “I’ll be there.”

  “We’ll be there,” Xiong corrected.

  Eyeing the two officers, zh’Rhun nodded in understanding and gratitude. “Go.”

  Xiong followed the engineer out of the cargo bay, stopping at the hatch long enough to turn back and see zh’Rhun and Davis now standing alone at the row of consoles, whatever they might be saying now completely drowned out by the alarm klaxons. The isolation chamber before them was in a constant state of movement, with dents clearly visible all across its surface. How much longer would it hold?

  Long enough, I hope.

  He had to run to catch up with al-Khaled, who had already traversed the short corridor leading from the cargo bay and made it to the wider passageway running the length of the Lovell’s secondary hull. At the far end of the passage was another reinforced hatch, leading to the “access boom” that connected this part of the ship to the spherical primary hull. Essentially an oversized, reinforced cylinder, the boom contained a single passageway that allowed for transit between the vessel’s two main sections. It also supported the warp nacelles, though if the secondary hull was jettisoned, the ship would only be capable of achieving sublight speeds—more than enough to return to Vanguard, assuming the Lovell survived the next few minutes.

  Always the optimist.

  Feeling something less than useless, Araev zh’Rhun watched as Kurt Davis continued his frantic work, his head bobbing between his console’s rows of buttons and controls and their accompanying status monitors. Every few seconds, she spared a glance toward the isolation chamber, one side of which was now bulging outward and looking to zh’Rhun like a pregnant mother’s swollen belly.

  Considering what was about to happen, she decided the analogy was apt.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Get out of here,” Davis replied, not turning from the monitors.

  Zh’Rhun shook her head. “You first.” Each had already stated for the record—and in Davis’s case that included a possible charge of insubordination and disobedience of lawful orders—that neither would leave without the other, and Davis was determined to remain on task as long as necessary. Staring at his face, illuminated as it was by the glow of viewscreens and status displays, zh’Rhun comprehended the man’s resolve, seeing that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for his shipmates. There was no way she was going to leave him here to do that alone.

  “How much time?” she asked.

  Davis grimaced, squinting from droplets of sweat running from his bald head and into his eyes. “A minute. Maybe.” As if on cue, another muffled impact of something against metal sounded in the cargo bay, and zh’Rhun looked up to see a new tear along the top of the isolation chamber’s bulging side panel.

  “I’m thinking less,” she said.

  She flinched at the sound of Mahmud al-Khaled’s voice bursting from the wall-mounted intercom. “Al-Khaled to zh’Rhun. Everybody’s out, Commander!”

  “That’s it!” zh’Rhun said, grabbing Davis by the shoulder and pulling him away from the console. “Time to go!”

  “Wait!” Davis said, extending his arms as though stretching for the workstation. “We can’t!”

  Zh’Rhun heaved the lieutenant ahead of her and pushed him toward the exit. “It’s over. Move!” She tried to ignore the sounds of metal coming apart behind her, concentrating instead on the sounds of her boots against the deck plates as she closed the distance to the hatch. Davis, running ahead of her, plunged through the opening and waited for her to follow him into the corridor before smacking a control panel set into the bulkhead next to the hatch. The reinforced door began cycling shut, allowing zh’Rhun one last look at the twisted, distended isolation chamber as a black, shapeless mass erupted from inside the wrecked container.

  As the door sealed, Davis hit another control and a status indicator on the panel with the label bay decompressing illuminated. A deep rumble made its way through the bulkheads, and zh’Rhun felt a mild reverberation in the deck beneath her feet as the cargo bay’s outer hatch was opened while the compartment still possessed an atmosphere. In her mind’s eye she pictured the bay’s contents being blasted toward the now open hatch as everything in the room was vented into space.

  Then, something—the Shedai, of course—slammed into the hatch right in front of them.

  No. She did not know why she should be surprised. After all, what was a decompressed cargo bay to an entity that had already demonstrated its ability to traverse interstellar distances without any known form of space vessel?

  “I think our plan has a few holes in it,” Davis said, seemingly an echo to zh’Rhun’s own thoughts.

  “Bridge to zh’Rhun,” echoed Captain Okagawa’s voice over the intercom. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Come on,” zh’Rhun said, grabbing Davis by the arm and pulling him along with her as she began to sprint the length of corridor toward the access boom. Standing in the doorway, waving for them to hurry, were al-Khaled and Xiong.

  “Move!” al-Khaled shouted.

  Behind zh’Rhun, another impact against the bulkhead echoed in the hallway, and this time it was accompanied by the rush of escaping oxygen. Another alarm sounded in the corridor, and she recognized it as the alert for a hull rupture. They were less than ten meters from the hatch when it slid shut, blocking their escape and hiding al-Khaled and Xiong from view. Halting their advance, they turned in time to see a black mass ripping through the corridor’s interior bulkheads before the pressure door ahead of it closed, sealing the two officers in a ten-meter section of passageway. Decompression protocols were in effect, with containment doors closing throughout the ship, sealing their respective compartments and preventing the entire vessel from being compromised.

  “Shit!” Davis said, his eyes wide and his voice rising.

  In response to his obscenity, something punctured the hatch leading back to the cargo bay, and a long, black spike thrust itself through the metal. Once again, zh’Rhun heard the hiss of air escaping into space.

  From the control panel positioned next to the door that would have been their portal to escape, the intercom flared to life with Captain Okagawa’s voice. “We’re picking up a hull breach. All containment hatches are in place. Is everyone out of there?”

  “No” was all zh’Rhun had time to say before the hiss became a roar.

  The decompression alarm howled in the corridor just as the pressure hatch began to shift, and Xiong pulled al-Khaled back before the door could slice him in half.

  “Watch it!” he said, yanking the engineer almost off balance before the hatch sealed with a resounding click. With the hull breach, Xiong knew the emergency doors spaced throughout the ship would be closed, which he recalled was normal operating procedure on older vessels like the Lovell. The ancient Daedalus-class ship was from another era, before emergency containment force fields and other protective measures had become standard equipment on modern starships.

  Slamming his fist against the hatch, al-Khaled released a grunt of rage. “No!” Then, training and experience seemed to reassert themselves as he turned to the control panel set into the bulkhead beside the door. Xiong saw that the panel was more than a simple door or in
tercom panel, as it also contained controls for overseeing emergency protocols such as separating the hulls. There was an intercom, as well, and Captain Okagawa’s voice erupted from it.

  “We’re picking up a hull breach. All containment hatches are in place. Is everyone out of there?”

  Though he reached for the intercom to reply, al-Khaled was stopped when he and Xiong heard the simple response from Commander zh’Rhun.

  “No.”

  The bulkheads and deck plates shuddered around them as the compartment was rocked by a series of muffled explosions, and instinct made Xiong reach toward the nearby wall for support. “What was that?” he asked, before realizing what it must be, and he looked to the control panel to see a large indicator glowing bright yellow and illuminating the words SEPARATION SEQUENCE INITIATED.

  “Damn it!” al-Khaled said, looking from the console to the hatch and back again as he processed what was happening. “Bridge!” he called to the intercom, “zh’Rhun and Davis are still over there! Can you lock onto them with transporters?”

  There was a pause—slight but there nonetheless—before Okagawa replied.

  “It’s too late.”

  Everyone on the Lovell’s compact bridge sat in stunned silence, watching the horrific scene on the main viewscreen play out before them. Okagawa, as startled by the vision as the rest of his crew, rose from his chair and felt his jaw slacken as he took in the horrific sight of the ship’s engineering hull being torn apart.

  “Dear God” was all the captain could muster as he stood, transfixed. On the screen was the image of the Lovell’s secondary hull, pushed away by the force of the explosive bolts responsible for separating it from the rest of the vessel. It had begun to tumble in response to other forces being inflicted upon it, and though the image offered no sound, it was not hard for Okagawa to imagine the shriek of twisted metal as strips and chunks of hull plating were ripped with stunning speed and violence from the hull’s spaceframe. Whatever form the Shedai entity had adopted, it seemed well suited to the task of slicing the duranium sections with the same effort one might expect a knife to cut bread. A cloud of debris now surrounded the wreck, expanding in all directions as the Shedai continued its task of reducing the secondary hull to little more than shrapnel. Within seconds the hull had ceased to resemble anything that might ever have been a component of a space vessel, and at the heart of the flotsam was what Okagawa could only think of as a dark, undulating cloud.