All over the ship, mercenaries and Starfleet prisoners alike staggered and fell. Ferengi, Klingon, Breen, human, and Bolian, they all went down within a few seconds of each other.
The only exceptions were La Forge, Barclay, and Rasmussen.
La Forge went to secure the bridge. Everyone there was out cold. Satisfied, La Forge triggered his anyon flare, and became solid once more, so that he could push the lifeless Breen out of the helm seat. He throttled back the ship, and began to pull up and away from the Infinite. He touched an intercom button, calling down to engineering, “Reg, are you there?”
“I’m here, Commander.”
“How are you doing?”
“It looks like everyone here is out cold.”
“Good. Reg, I need you to find Rasmussen and wake up Balis and the others. We might have control of Intrepid right now, but that marauder’s still out there somewhere, and they’re not going to want to let us hang on to Bok.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Reg, this is not going to be the best day to be aboard a ship built before they invented shields. Our troubles are only just beginning.”
18
Challenger dropped out of warp just inside the Oort cloud. “Entering the Delta Five Gamma Zeta Alpha system, Captain,” Qat’qa reported.
“Is there any sign of the Intrepid?” Scotty asked.
At ops, Leah brought up the sensor displays on her board. “Scanning. No immediate indications, but, seeing as we know they have a cloak, they could already be here.”
“Even if they’re not cloaked, they could be well hidden by the energy emitted by the Infinite,” Nog pointed out. “It’s almost drowning out the sensors.”
“Between plasma storms, elevated neutrino waves, gravimetric distortions, and plain old hard gamma, anything on one side of the system won’t have a hope in hell of detecting a ship on the other side,” Hunt said.
“And that’s without even taking into account the asteroid population that’s threaded through the system,” Leah added.
Scotty sighed. “Aye, which might be a good thing. Intrepid’ll be hard put to detect us through all that high energy soup.”
“Might be pretty reasonable to assume that we’ve gotten here first?” Qat’qa asked.
“Never assume anything,” Leah said with a faint smile.
Scotty agreed. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time in Starfleet, it’s that the more certain you are of an assumption, the more likely it is that said assumption is wrong.”
“Captain.” Nog looked up from his console, his features taut and grim. “The decryption team I set to decoding the signal that was transmitted by the stealth probe has a result.”
“And?”
“It’s Romulan.” A chill silence rolled across the bridge.
Scotty shook his head. “They have to get their noses into everything, don’t they?”
Hunt came up the ramp and around the bridge rail to double-check the decryption on one of the science station consoles. “This Romulan signal . . . Does this mean that they’re behind Rasmussen? Or behind Bok?”
“Rasmussen’s a liar and a conman, but I canna see him being in league with the Romulans.”
“Why not?” Qat’qa demanded. “It is their way; to lure the dishonorable into alliance with them.”
“Because of the time he comes from. Remember that in Rasmussen’s time, Earth has just emerged from a bloody nasty war with the Romulans. Coming from that society, he’s unlikely to be well-disposed to them.”
Hunt trotted down to the ops station, and leaned over Leah. “Program the sensors with the probe’s cloaking and transmission frequencies. If there are any more of them, I want to know.”
“Commander . . .” Nog said, “if this probe is Romulan, there might be Romulan vessels in the area as well.”
“That’s what worries me. If there’s a warbird out there . . .”
“If there’s a warbird out there,” Scotty pointed out, “we’ve got big problems. Nog, do you think Bok is likely to have made some kind of deal with the Romulans?”
“It’s not impossible. But if anyone has made a deal with the Romulans it would more likely be someone much higher in the Shadow Treasury.”
“They’re the ones who backed his plan, though, aren’t they?” Hunt said. “Bankrolled it, at least.”
“I suppose,” Nog said slowly, “it’s possible that they might have sent along some backup beyond the vessels we already know about, but I’d be inclined to doubt it. Our prisoners say Bok had three ships. Two Klingon-built vessels and his marauder.”
“Might a Romulan ship have been included without Bok’s knowledge?”
“Maybe, but I doubt the Shadow Treasury would have agreed to it. If they’ve got some sort of information exchange with the Romulans, then more likely the Romulans have sent a ship on their own.”
Leah turned. “They could have done that just from eavesdropping.”
“Which we know they’re doing because of the probes,” Hunt agreed.
“Which suggests there are more likely to be only more probes.”
Hunt nodded, smiling. “That’s good, logical thinking.”
“I think I’ve got something, actually,” Leah continued. “Not on a Romulan frequency. I’m detecting a disruption in the neutrino waves being put out by the Infinite. It might just be a gravimetric distortion from the string itself, but it just might be caused by the passage of a cloaked ship.”
Scotty was immediately alert. “The Intrepid?”
“I don’t think so. If it is a cloaked vessel, her mass is too large for an NX-class ship. And too small for a Romulan warbird,” she added, before anyone could ask.
“Give me your best guess. Don’t hold back.”
“From the likely mass? Something big and bulky. Given that we already know there are Ferengi involved, a D’Kora-class marauder would fit.”
“Bok’s ship?”
“That would make sense,” Hunt mused aloud. “He stations it as a picket ship, near the Oort cloud, to keep us out if we get past the Klingon ship he sent to stop us tracking him here.”
“He must have known we were more than a match for the Klingon ship,” Nog said.
Hunt laughed mirthlessly. “He did. He just wanted to buy the time.”
“Is there any sign that they’ve detected us?” Scotty asked.
Nog double-checked his readouts. “Impossible to tell. They’re a little closer to the Infinite, and further along in orbit, so the interference put out by it will be affecting their sensors worse than it affects ours. Assuming it is a Ferengi marauder and not just a gravimetric eddy.”
“I have a wee hunch that it’s Bok’s friends right enough, and that they’ll know we’re here. I can feel it in my water.”
The bridge of the marauder had no center seat, but there were several consoles arranged around a central spherical viewer. Grak preferred to command from the ship’s tactical console, so that if violence became necessary, he could take personal charge of that side of the business. Grak took his seat at the weapons board, and brought the marauder’s firepower online.
He stroked the top of the console, looking forward to unveiling to Starfleet the modifications he had made over the years.
“Challenger is changing course and arming weapons,” one of the Ferengi reported. “They undoubtedly see us.”
“Drop the cloak.” There was no sense in continuing to pretend they weren’t here, especially when decloaking closer to the Challenger would mean they were more vulnerable to attack before they could fire. Much better to decloak now, and meet Challenger on more even terms. “Hail them.”
After a couple of seconds, the lined face and white hair of an elderly hew-mon appeared in the center sphere. “This is Captain Montgomery Scott of the Starship Challenger. Stand down your weapons.”
“Captain Scott, I will not do that. You’ve killed a number of my friends today, but that’s all right, since my crew now inherits their shares of th
e fee for this mission. So, I’m feeling generous. Turn your ship around, and leave this system. You don’t have to go for long. Come back tomorrow if you want. I won’t be around to stop you.”
Trust a Ferengi to try cutting a deal, Scotty thought. “Not a chance, laddie. That NX-class is not going where Bok wants to take it. I’ve never been a man to be bullied by starship captains, even the ones I respect, so ye’ll be getting no satisfaction from me.”
The Ferengi on the main viewer gave a remarkably human shrug. “I make the same profit either way. It’s your funeral.” He disappeared from the screen.
“Captain,” Nog said in alarm, “that marauder is carrying a lot more weaponry than Ferengi ships usually do. Phaser and disruptor banks, plasma torpedoes, photon torpedoes . . .”
“The best defense is not to be where the impact arrives!” Qat’qa exclaimed. “Do not worry so.”
“I’m not worried. There is some good news, I’m reading Intrepid, on an intercept course.”
“Mister Hunt, do we have Intrepid’s prefix code on record?” Scotty asked, sitting up with a calculating expression.
“It’ll be in the historical database.”
“Prefix code?” Qat’qa echoed.
Scotty nodded. “Up until the Excelsior-class, Starfleet ships all had a remote prefix code, so that if something happened to the crew, a rogue ship could be brought under control. If necessary her shields could be dropped by remote control so that a ship with a dead crew could be boarded and brought under control.”
“A dead crew. . .” Leah shuddered. “Geordi . . .”
“Lass?”
“I was . . . I guess Intrepid qualifies on the grounds of its original crew being dead. Her current crew’s status is open to question.”
“That’s a question ye needn’t worry yourself about.”
“Intrepid is approaching.” Not trusting the sensors in this system’s interference, Grak glanced over to check the veracity of his subordinate’s report, and saw that it was true. The ancient Earth ship was indeed moving away from the Infinite, and had dropped her cloak for all to see.
“Keep us between them and Challenger. If Bok wants a share of the glory, we’ll do what we can to accommodate him, but we mustn’t let Challenger get close.”
“Understood.”
“Hail the Intrepid.”
“No response.”
“Why aren’t they talking?” A thought struck Grak. “A lot of these old Federation ships used to have a prefix code for remote control of some systems . . . Have there been any transmissions to Intrepid from Challenger?”
“Not yet.”
“Jam them, just in case.” Grak switched to a more secure communications channel. “Grak to Intrepid. Grak to Intrepid. Daimon Bok, please respond.” Only static answered him.
“Intrepid is changing course,” Grak’s subordinate warned. “Moving to join us.”
“Grak,” a voice said. Rasmussen’s features appeared in the main viewing sphere. “We’re having some difficulty maintaining the cloak, and we have no shielding. Can you extend your shield around us as soon as possible?”
“Yes, I can do that.” Grak briefly wondered why the human was making the request instead of Bok himself, but since the two were partners in this particular business venture, it wasn’t his to ask why. He nodded to the Ferengi at the engineering console.
Intrepid’s bridge was a dark place of confusion and foreboding again, now that they had turned away from the Split Infinite, and the heavenly light wasn’t beaming in upon them. Barclay and La Forge had by now recovered their combadges, as well as taken weapons from the unconscious mercenaries who had been dumped in the brig.
Upon hearing Grak’s agreement to extend the shields, Barclay couldn’t have looked more astonished if he’d tried. “They’re actually going to do it?”
Rasmussen chuckled at the question. “They’ve no reason not to.”
“Commander,” Barclay began, “shouldn’t we let Challenger know that we’re in control of the ship?”
La Forge was tempted. “Not while the marauder’s listening in.” He thought for a moment, knowing that now that they had the initiative, they should keep it. “Reg, do we have anything we could use as a weapon against the marauder?”
“We’ve managed to use parts of the probes that Bok’s men brought aboard to reactivate two photonic missiles, but the yield will be, um, not large.”
“It doesn’t have to be, now that we’re inside their shield envelope. Arm a photonic torpedo, and target the marauder.”
The marauder’s engineering officer looked around the side of his console, at Grak. “Something’s—Intrepid is arming what weapons they have.”
“Good, every little bit helps.”
“And they’re lighting us up!”
“What?!” Grak couldn’t believe his ears.
In the main viewing sphere, a missile blazed out from Intrepid and grew in a flash, filling the sphere as it rushed headlong straight for the marauder.
“Withdraw our shields!” Grak yelled frantically. “Minimum distance from the hull!” He was just a little too late, and the photonic torpedo slammed into the port side of the marauder’s hindquarters, exploding in a flash of vaporized hull plating. The ship juddered, and Grak and his bridge crew hung on to their consoles just to stay upright as the floor lurched and dipped. “Damage report!”
“Hull breach in cargo bay seven, no casualties, no damage to systems.” Grak slumped back, relieved.
“Targeting Intrepid.”
“No! Bok is still aboard. We daren’t risk it.”
The other Ferengi all looked at him in shock. “The Starfleeters must be in control of the ship,” one said.
“Starfleeters don’t kill prisoners, which means Bok is still aboard. We’ll need to concentrate on making sure he is safe.”
Tyler Hunt huddled over the tactical station with Nog. “What can we expect from the captain of a marauder? Aggression, caution, deviousness . . . ?”
“Ferengi tend to treat everything as business. Even combat. They’ll want to maximize their return on investment.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means they’ll be thinking of the profit they want to make.”
“They’d want to take this ship as a prize?”
“I doubt they’ll expect that to be possible,” Nog admitted. “They’re not pirates, they’re businessmen. They’ll want to encourage us to stop trying to interfere with the Intrepid, so they’ll probably concentrate on diverting us away from the Split Infinite, rather than trying to destroy us outright.” Nog looked away for a moment. “Really, they should have laid mines.”
“Area denial.” Hunt understood and nodded. “So we’ll want to keep as close to the Infinite as possible, and maybe even try to keep the Intrepid between us and them.”
“They definitely won’t dare fire on the source of their profit, sir,” Nog agreed. “They’re not Romulans, who’ll destroy their own forces when their mission fails.”
“Right. Start programming attack patterns. We’re going to need them.”
Leah, not for the first time, wished that she could simply solve the problem by some technological means. She thought about that for a moment. It wasn’t just power that was distributed by engineering systems. Food, morale, tasks, the right people were all things that needed to be distributed correctly for a ship to function at its best.
She turned from the ops console. “Scotty, I’ve been thinking. If we bring some of the beta shift personnel on duty, we can staff the battle bridge and auxiliary control right now. If they’re all properly briefed, it should quicken our response times when the marauder attacks.”
“Ye’ve been thinking about duty rosters?” Scotty could conceal neither his amazement nor his appreciation.
“The crew are parts of the starship just like the engine components. They need to be tuned . . .”
Scotty laughed. “It’s a valuable lesson that we all learn at
the Academy. If ye’re not careful, you’ll make a decent officer someday.” He smiled slyly. “That would even things up between you and Geordi, now, wouldn’t it?”
“I’ll stay civilian, if it’s all the same, Scotty.” Leah blushed red, and went to call people to duty.
19
Intrepid banked away as the marauder’s shields contracted around the Ferengi ship. The marauder then rotated to keep her scoop-like nose on an orientation that could face both Intrepid and the oncoming Challenger.
On the bridge, La Forge sat in the center seat. He felt tense, but didn’t show it. “Hail the marauder.”
Grak’s voice responded instantly. “Go ahead.”
“Grak, this is Commander Geordi La Forge. The Intrepid is Starfleet property. Cease your attack and withdraw.”
“Where is Bok?”
“Bok and his crew are disarmed and in our brig.”
“Alive?”
“So long as you do what I tell you. If you press your attack, Bok will die.”
“Starfleeters don’t kill prisoners,” Grak said stubbornly.
Rasmussen cleared his throat as he stepped beside Geordi. “Erm, that’s true, Grak, but, as you know, I’m not Starfleet, and I’ve served my time in prison, just like you and Bok. Commander La Forge is somewhat preoccupied running the ship, and so are the other Starfleet technicians, but I find myself as something of a fifth wheel around here, and well . . . I think if I were to go down to the brig with a disruptor and have some target practice with Bok, none of them would really have the free time to come and stop me. You do see where I’m going with this, don’t you, Grak?”
“Yes, I see where you’re going.” There was a long pause. “This isn’t over, welcher.” The comm went dead. La Forge got up and moved to stand with Balis at tactical, where he could see that the marauder was backing off, but only slightly. Their weapons were still armed, but on a standby cycle.
“Looks like we’ve bought ourselves some time.”
On the larger and better-lit bridge of the Challenger, smiles of relief rippled around the senior staff. They had all heard the exchange between La Forge and Grak. Scotty slapped the arm of his chair in a little moment of triumph. “Can we contact Geordi directly?”
Star Trek The Next Generation® Page 22
