by Dayton Ward
“Even if we disable the ship’s ability to communicate with the mines?” Xav asked.
“If I were designing a system like that one,” al-Khaled said, “the first thing I’d do is build in a program that reacted to that scenario. For all we know, the second the mines detect any kind of interruption in the signal from the control ship, they could attack any enemy ship in the area.”
“Well then,” Okagawa replied, “let’s try to avoid that, shall we?” His tone had lightened somewhat, the captain no doubt heartened by watching his people turning their energies toward the process of analyzing their current problem and devising potential solutions. “The ship is unoccupied, but the Gorn obviously have some method of retaining command of it. There has to be something there that we can imitate for seizing control of that thing.”
“Perhaps the solution we need is not a technical one.”
The statement was simple, delivered in a subdued voice, but even then it was enough to make everyone else at the table turn to where Grace sat, his hands still held in front of him as he maintained his familiar contemplative pose.
“Mr. Grace?” Okagawa prompted, his raised eyebrows illustrating his curiosity.
His expression neutral, the Lovell’s chief engineer remained silent for an additional few seconds, appearing to compose his answer before saying, “It is prudent to assume that any strategy we attempt that can be traced back to the ship will prove disastrous. Therefore, it seems that we must look beyond mere mechanics for our answer.” Dropping his hands to his lap, he added, “Fortunately, we are in a position to request some rather specialized assistance.”
Sitting in the copilot’s seat of the Shuttlecraft Mizuki, al-Khaled could not ignore the knot of worry forming in his gut as the small vessel left the safety of the Lovell’s shuttlebay and maneuvered into the void of empty space.
“If anyone cares,” he said as he studied his console and reassured himself that all systems were operating normally, “I’d like to go on record one more time as being very uncomfortable with this idea.”
From where he sat in the pilot’s chair, Grace did not look up from his console as he replied, “This is not altogether different from a simulation that was once offered at Starfleet Academy as part of the strategic operations curriculum. During one of the more difficult exercises, you were confronted with a ship that laid mines in random patterns, which you were required to navigate while attempting to destroy the ship itself and avoid damage to your own vessel.”
“How did you do on the test?” al-Khaled asked, already feeling his stomach tighten again in anticipation of the answer.
Grace shrugged, his expression remaining neutral as he worked. “I passed the simulation two out of four times.”
“And this is supposed to make me feel better?”
“As team commander, you did have the option of remaining on the Lovell.” The words were delivered in a bantering manner, one al-Khaled recognized as the chief engineer’s usual way of defusing tension.
“You know me,” he said. “I’m a glutton for punishment.” In truth, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of missions assigned to his team that he had not led personally. This was not due to an inflated ego or sense of self-importance, but rather that al-Khaled preferred to think of himself as one who led first by example. He did not exempt himself from the less glamorous missions to which the Lovell’s team of engineers often found themselves assigned, and if his people had to face a dangerous situation, they did so while following him.
Just like now.
“Lovell to Mizuki,” The voice of Captain Okagawa sounded over the shuttlecraft’s intercom. “Sensors aren’t detecting any activity from the minefield. So far, your flight isn’t attracting any attention.”
Confirming Okagawa’s report with the shuttle’s own sensor readings, al-Khaled replied, “Acknowledged, Captain. Everything reads good to go here, as well.”
“We’re preparing to maneuver back into the rift, Mahmud. You’ll be able to keep in contact with us via the subspace beacons, but otherwise you’re on your own.”
At Commander zh’Rhun’s insistence, it had been decided that Lovell would return to Elysia before al-Khaled and Grace put their plan in motion to combat the Gorn minefield. Okagawa had initially resisted the idea, preferring instead to remain in a position to offer possible assistance to the shuttlecraft, but had finally acceded to his first officer’s recommendations. If the engineers aboard the Mizuki did something that triggered some kind of defensive scheme and caused the mines to target any enemy vessel within range of the field, the safest place for the Lovell to be was inside the Delta Triangle.
“Understood, sir,” al-Khaled said. “We’ll keep you apprised of our progress.”
“See that you do,” Okagawa replied, a hint of teasing now apparent in his voice. “Not that I’m really worried about anything happening to you, but that is a brand-new shuttlecraft you’re flying there. Try to bring it back in one piece, if you don’t mind. Lovell out.”
“Always the doting dad,” al-Khaled muttered, exchanging knowing grins with Grace before turning in his seat to face the shuttlecraft’s third occupant. “Magen? Are you all right?”
Seated in the chair positioned behind Grace, the alien woman nodded in reply. “Yes, Commander. Thank you.” Slender and petite, Magen appeared too fragile to be able to withstand any sort of physical demands placed on her body.
Like the rest of her race, however, she was ideally suited to the undertaking for which the Lovell crew had called upon her.
“I see the mines,” she said after a moment. Seated with her arms folded across her chest, the Cygnian woman appeared to be staring off into nothingness, but al-Khaled knew she was instead focusing her considerable mental talents to the task at hand. “There are so many of them.”
Grace’s idea of employing the psionic abilities possessed by several of the Triangle’s inhabitants had been a stroke of genius, in al-Khaled’s opinion. Such individuals had been providing the eclectic community with an invaluable service for centuries, using their formidable mental powers to neutralize weapons and any other instruments that posed a threat to the peace of Elysia.
Still, even these remarkable people, including Magen, had limits. Within minutes of arriving aboard the Lovell, the Cygnian woman had determined that the Gorn minelayer vessel, currently positioned well outside the minefield it had created, was also beyond the range of Magen’s psionic abilities. For her to exude any influence on the ship, she would have to be closer.
This, of course, meant navigating through the minefield.
“Approaching the first mine now,” Grace reported. If the chief engineer was nervous, al-Khaled could detect no sign of it in the man’s voice. Instead, his attention was focused on his console and the viewing ports in front of him. He manipulated the Mizuki’s controls with the confidence and flair befitting his well-earned status as the most accomplished shuttlecraft pilot among the Lovell’s crew.
“One moment,” Magen said, her eyes closing and her brow wrinkling in concentration. She had been the one to suggest this course of action, maneuvering through the minefield and attempting to divert only those mines that posed a danger to the shuttlecraft during its flight. It was not an idea that al-Khaled had welcomed, but neither he nor any of the other Lovell engineers had been able to propose an alternative.
Al-Khaled watched her, already beginning to wonder if the woman was attempting something that exceeded her abilities, when an alert tone sounded from his console. Turning in his seat, he checked his sensor displays, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw what the readouts were reporting.
“The mine just went inoperative,” he said. “I’m picking up movement in three others.” He looked up from his console at Grace. “They’re reacting to the first one going offline.”
“Magen?” Grace prompted, not turning from his controls.
“I see them,” the Cygnian replied, her eyes still closed.
Withi
n seconds, al-Khaled noted new sensor readings that showed those three mines deactivating. “She’s got them,” he said, but any excitement he might have felt was short-lived. “I’m picking up seven more reacting to the situation.”
Tapping rapid-fire strings of commands to his console, Grace called out, “Increasing speed to one-half impulse.”
The acceleration was so sudden that al-Khaled actually felt himself pressed into his seat in the instant before the shuttlecraft’s inertial dampeners could compensate. A proximity alert beeped, and he had just enough time to register it before his stomach detected the ship’s roll to port.
“Nicely done,” he offered as the alert signal terminated.
Beads of sweat were now visible on Grace’s forehead. “More of the mines are reacting to our presence.”
“I know,” al-Khaled replied, attending to the sensors. From the looks of things, Magen was doing a superb job diverting the mines that lay in the Mizuki’s path, but for every one she disabled, several of its adjacent companions reacted to the strange disruption in the minefield’s integrity. “Every mine within two hundred kilometers of our position is going haywire.” Sparing a second to glance over his shoulder, he looked at their passenger. “Magen?”
There was no mistaking the strain that was now evident on the woman’s face. “I cannot control them all,” she said, her voice a tortured whisper. “I have to let some of them go.”
Al-Khaled felt his pulse racing, heard the blood rushing in his ears as the shuttle’s sensors told him what Magen was doing. “Okay, I see what you mean.” To Grace, he said, “She’s releasing control of any mines that aren’t posing an immediate danger to us.” According to his sensors, the first act of the reactivated mines was to assume a defensive patrolling posture, searching for whatever had disrupted their operation in the first place.
Still, it was not enough.
“The entire field seems to be reacting,” he reported seconds later. “The dispersal pattern is shifting, assuming a new configuration.”
“Almost there,” Grace said, biting off each word through gritted teeth. “Four thousand kilometers and closing.”
Then a secondary warning blared for attention, louder than the rest, and al-Khaled nearly felt his heart burst from his chest. “Mine, port side aft!”
Grace’s fingers moved as though possessed of their own will, almost too fast for al-Khaled’s eyes to follow, and the Mizuki lurched as the chief engineer applied more speed while attempting an evasive maneuver. The stars outside the viewports seemed to stretch and streak as the shuttlecraft banked hard to starboard.
The hull shuddered around them, and al-Khaled grabbed on to the console for support as he felt the deck plates pitch beneath his feet. “What was that?”
“I managed to make the mine miss us and collide with another one that was homing in on us,” Grace replied, his voice tense as he fought to keep the shuttlecraft under control.
“There’s too many of them for you to keep this up,” al-Khaled said. “We have to get out of here.”
Grace shook his head. “Eighteen hundred kilometers and closing.”
Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Magen had nearly tucked herself into a ball, her entire body shaking as she struggled under the increasing demands being forced upon her. Her eyes were tightly shut and her lips moved, though she said nothing aloud.
Then the sensor board in front of al-Khaled suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, and his attention was torn between multiple proximity warnings and more indications of mines maneuvering from their passive defensive positions than he could count. Most of them were altering their trajectories.
Toward them.
“I’m tracking twenty-seven mines heading for us!” he said, hearing his voice crack under the strain. For an insane moment, he mentally rebuked himself for his momentary loss of self-control before the alarms beckoned him once more. Between working to track the constantly shifting sensor readings and trying to keep from being thrown from his chair by any of Grace’s vicious evasive maneuvering, there simply was no time left over for him to be scared. His attention was locked on the sensor display and its representation of twenty-seven red indicators closing on a single point, the small blue dot that was the Mizuki. Some of the red dots winked out as Magen’s psionic abilities overcame individual mines, but far too many were still getting through. Not that it mattered, of course. Just one of the devices would be more than enough to obliterate the shuttlecraft.
The circle of red tightened with each heartbeat, and when his mind finally communicated to him that only a handful of those remained, al-Khaled closed his eyes.
Then the alarms ceased.
His eyes snapped open and immediately homed in on the sensor readouts, only to see that all of the red indicators were gone.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked no one in particular as he bent forward to get a better look at the sensors.
“The entire field has gone inoperative,” Grace said. “Magen?”
From behind the engineers, the alien woman had sunk into her own seat, fatigue clouding her exotic features. Perspiration ran freely down the sides of her face, and dark circles had formed under her yellow eyes, but nevertheless she nodded to al-Khaled. “Commander Grace was able to maneuver us close enough for me to disable the control ship.”
Releasing the pent-up breath he only now realized he was holding, al-Khaled blinked several times as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. “That’s it? It’s over?”
“Apparently so,” Grace said, his tone also exhibiting signs of unfettered relief. “The minelayer is completely inert, along with all of the mines.”
Still facing Magen, al-Khaled saw her rub her face with her hand. Her eyes fluttered, and she took several short, shallow breaths. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“The effort was more than I was prepared to cope with,” the Cygnian replied. “I must rest for a time.” Offering a weak smile, she added, “I will be fine.”
Entering another string of commands to his console, Grace said, “There’s a docking port on the top of the ship that we can link up with.”
“Let’s do it, then,” al-Khaled said, nodding tiredly and allowing himself to slump into his seat. A moment later he felt the hull of the Mizuki vibrate lightly as it made contact with the exterior of the Gorn ship.
His fatigue was pushed aside, though, replaced by a new wave of worry as a sensor alert sounded from his console.
“Let me guess…” Grace said, letting the sentence trail away.
Al-Khaled nodded. “The Gorn are coming back.”
Chapter
8
Red gave way to black and stars filled the viewscreen as the Delta Triangle yielded its grip on the Lovell, and for a second time Daniel Okagawa breathed a sigh of relief. Although he knew that Commander Grace’s modifications to the deflector shields protected the ship’s dilithium crystals from the region’s debilitative effects, it was still comforting to be back in normal space.
Well, he reminded himself, almost comforting.
“Go to red alert,” he ordered as he rose from his chair. “Mr. Xav, where are our friends?”
Bent over the hooded viewer at his station, the science officer did not look up as he replied, “Three vessels, sir, approaching from different directions. All of them are closing on the minelayer. Estimated time of arrival is two point four minutes.”
“Rodriquez,” Okagawa said as he stepped up behind the helm officer, “get us there now. I want to be ahead of the Gorn.”
“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied as she entered the necessary commands. Leaving her to her task, Okagawa looked to Xav again. “Just the three? They didn’t call for backup?”
The Tellarite shook his head. “No, sir. There are no signs of other ship activity anywhere in sensor range.”
“I suppose we should be thankful for small favors,” Okagawa said. “They may not know what’s wrong yet, except that all of their mine
s suddenly fell asleep.” Had the Gorn somehow failed to detect the Shuttlecraft Mizuki as it navigated the minefield? Were their sensors more limited than those on the Lovell?
Too good to be true, he reminded himself.
“Let’s have the phasers, Lieutenant Diamond,” he said. “How are the shields holding up?”
“Functioning normally, sir,” the weapons officer responded. “Now that we are out of the rift, we are no longer experiencing the strain of the Triangle’s effects. We’ll be ready when the Gorn get here.”
It seemed obvious to Okagawa that the Gorn would not want to destroy the ship they had left to oversee the minefield, even if members of the Lovell’s crew were aboard. Still, they would almost certainly send a boarding party to deal with the intruders, a proposition that did not sit well with the captain.
Nodding in approval at Diamond’s report, Okagawa said, “While you’re at it, feel free to destroy as many of those mines as you can while we’re en route.” Looking to the communications station, he ordered, “Pzial, get me the Mizuki,” he said.
A moment later the Rigelian reported that he had established contact with Commander al-Khaled, and Okagawa turned to see the image of the young engineer on the main viewscreen, standing in a room that looked nothing like the interior of a Starfleet shuttlecraft. “Mahmud, I probably don’t have to tell you that we’ve got company on the way.”
“No, sir,” al-Khaled said. “We’ve managed to get ourselves aboard the minelayer, and we’re getting our first look at its systems now. Basically, this thing is a flying armory. There’s a small control center here, presumably for maintenance workers or technicians.” Shrugging, he waved to one of several workstations lining the bulkheads of the cramped room, all of which looked to be designed for the larger physiology of the Gorn. “It has what looks like a helm console for a living pilot, but otherwise it’s nothing but an automated dispersal system for the mines and the computer and communications systems to oversee them once they’re deployed.” Holding up his tricorder for emphasis, he added, “I’ve set up a link to what looks to be the weapons control system. With T’Laen’s help, we might be able to gain access.”
