Rejarris II, though, did not impress. “It looks rather dull to me,” Sulu noted.
“It might look that way, sir, but I don’t think it is,” Ressix said. “Or at least I don’t think it was.”
“ ‘Was’?”
“The clouds appear to be the byproduct of a massive event,” Ressix explained. “Possibly an asteroid strike, an offworld attack, or a nuclear conflict. Scans of the surface show intact cities all across the globe, though, so Ensign Millán favors the strike theory.” An assistant science officer, Felicia Millán crewed a station on the port side of the bridge.
“I take it this is a pre-warp civilization,” Sulu said. If there had been any indication of a spacefaring society on Rejarris II, the Excelsior crew would have bypassed the outer planets upon entering the system. If such indications had come later, during beta or gamma shift, the captain would have been notified immediately. Since Ressix had not led with the discovery of a warp-capable culture, Sulu assumed the reverse.
“It appears that way,” Ressix said. “Sensors show very basic, automated spacecraft on the planet’s two moons.”
“What’s the planetary population?”
“That’s where things get interesting, sir,” Ressix said. “Something on the planet is interfering with our bio-scans. There’s a string of artificial satellites in orbit, though, and so I thought to monitor their activity in the hopes of extrapolating the size of the populace based on communications traffic.”
“Resourceful,” Sulu said, eliciting a smile from the lieutenant. “What did you find?”
“None of the satellites show any activity,” Ressix said, “and several have deteriorating orbits and are on the verge of falling back to the planet.”
“So what do you think that tells us?” the captain asked. “That this civilization wiped itself out? Or that an asteroid did? Or that after whatever calamity befell this world, the survivors either lost the capability or the interest in using the satellites they’d put in orbit?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Ressix said. “but in the course of examining the satellites, we discovered something else.” The lieutenant turned toward the long console situated above and behind the command chair, on the outer ring of the bridge. On one end, Ensign Tobias Benton crewed the tactical station, and on the other, Crewwoman Page Aaron worked communications. “Ensign,” Ressix said, addressing the security officer, “please show the captain what we found.”
“Aye, sir,” said Benton. “Magnifying.” He worked his controls, and the image on the main viewer shifted. Rejarris II and its opaque atmosphere disappeared, replaced by a flurry of stars strewn across the darkness of space. A great curved object hung in the void.
Sulu took a step toward the viewscreen. “What . . . what is that? A space station?”
“Negative,” Ressix said. “There are no life signs.”
From the sciences station, Millán added, “If the object had a crew, there’d be no place to put them. It’s filled with circuitry, with no room for personnel.”
“Even for personnel who are only centimeters tall, Ensign?” Sulu asked, his question a response to what he considered a teaching moment for the young officer—for all the young gamma-shift bridge crew. “Or for energy beings?”
“Well . . . maybe in those cases there would be room,” Millán said, her manner sheepish. “But sensors aren’t detecting life signs of any kind.”
Sulu nodded, curious. He moved around the small hexagonal table he’d had installed in front of the command chair and sat down. “So what can you tell me about the object?” he asked Ressix.
“It occupies a high orbit, and it’s the only one of its kind about the planet,” said the lieutenant. “It’s big and circular.” On the viewscreen, the object appeared elliptical, but only, Sulu realized, because it floated with its edge oriented at an angle with respect to Excelsior. “It measures more than five hundred meters across, and its frame is fourteen-point-three meters through. Solar panels are mounted on the ring, undoubtedly for energy collection.”
“What about shields? Weapons? Drive systems?”
Benton spoke up from tactical. “My scans show no phaser or disruptor banks, no directed-energy reserves, no weapons of any kind,” he said. “I do read low-power force fields protecting the solar panels.”
“There’s no drive,” Millán said. “Thrusters are keeping it in position, and it also has antigravs.”
“What about communications?” Sulu asked. “Are any signals being transmitted to or from the object?”
“No, sir,” said Aaron. “Not since we’ve been monitoring it.”
Sulu folded his arms across his chest. “So what is it?” he asked. Crewman Khaled Rehan and Ensign T’Jen glanced back at the captain from the helm and navigation stations, but they offered no answers. “Do we have any idea whether it even originated here? Could it have been brought to this planet from somewhere else, for some unknown purpose, by a more advanced species?”
“It’s possible, though we’ve found no trace of warp travel within the system,” Millán said. “We’ve also scanned the orbiting satellites and the spacecraft on the two moons, as well as some of the cities. It’s difficult to know with complete confidence, but all of the technology seems consistent with what we see in the object.”
“Could it just be a solar collector?” Ressix asked. “Maybe gathering energy and beaming it down to the surface?”
“Maybe,” Sulu said, but the idea didn’t sound plausible to him. “But why would there be just one of them?”
“It might be a failed experiment,” Ressix suggested. “Or an incomplete one.”
“But it’s such an inefficient design,” Sulu said. “It encompasses so much area, and yet the solar panels are only on the periphery.” The object puzzled the captain. He felt as though he was missing something, some observation or perspective or piece of information that would answer all his questions. “Have you viewed the object from the other side?”
“No, sir,” Ressix said. “We came upon it while in orbit, and when it showed up on sensors, I stopped the ship.”
“All right, then, let’s take a look,” Sulu said. “Mister Rehan, take us around slowly. Ensign T’Jen, pass it on the spaceward side.” Although his crew had identified no interaction between the object and the surface of the planet, the captain did not want to risk traveling between the two. “Mister Benton, keep the viewscreen focused on the object.”
“Aye, Captain.”
As Excelsior climbed away from Rejarris II, Sulu watched the ship’s progress on the main viewer, its alignment with the object changing by degrees. He leaned forward in his chair, unfolding his arms and leaning on the small table, trying to discern whatever details he could. As the ship passed in front of the object, it looked less and less elliptical, until the captain could at last make out its circular shape.
Suddenly, the viewscreen erupted in a flood of golden light. From points all around the object, beams burst forth, widening as they laced toward Excelsior. The ship lurched hard, throwing Sulu from the command chair onto the deck. Both of his legs struck the table as he fell, and jolts of pain flared in his knees. Lieutenant Ressix flew backward through the air, struck the railing dividing the outer ring of the bridge from the inner section, and went down hard.
The inertial dampers took a moment to compensate as Excelsior reeled again, the ship heaving to port. Even as Sulu grabbed for the command chair to prevent himself from rolling across the deck, he anticipated the voices of the bridge crew, who would deliver a situation report, a damage assessment, and recommendations for action. He waited as the ship shook, but no announcements came.
Sulu steadied himself with his grip on the command chair and looked around. He saw Ressix sprawled on the deck, facedown, not moving. At the navigator’s station, T’Jen righted her seat as she fought her way back to her panel. The helm sat uncrewed, and the captain saw Rehan scuffling to stand, shaking his head as though to clear it. Around the perimeter of the
bridge, supplemental personnel had also been knocked from their feet. From Sulu’s vantage, he could not see past the long aft console to the communications and tactical positions. “Red alert!” the captain called out, hoping that Benton still stood at his post. “Shields!” Though only seconds had passed, Sulu lamented the slower reaction time of his gamma-shift crew. They’re only children, he thought as he pulled himself up by the arm of his chair. They were more than that, of course: they were trained Starfleet personnel—but they were also inexperienced.
“Shields up!” the captain heard Benton cry out, but Excelsior continued to tremble beneath the attack. The alert klaxon shrieked its call to battle stations as the emergency lighting bathed the bridge in a red glow.
“Ready main phasers,” Sulu yelled. As much as he didn’t want to fire on a less-advanced civilization, and even though doing so could be considered a violation of the Prime Directive, he would do what he needed to do to protect his crew. He looked to the main viewer and saw it imbued with a golden aura. At least a dozen beams—More, he thought—radiated out from around the circular construct, all of them aimed at Excelsior. Sulu noticed with dismay that the object had grown in size to fill the entire screen, and as he watched, the top and bottom arcs disappeared from view. Whatever that thing is, it’s drawing the ship toward it. Benton confirmed that a second later.
“Those aren’t weapons,” the crewman called out above the shrill insistence of the red-alert klaxon. “They’re tractor beams.”
“Silence the bridge,” Sulu ordered, and the klaxon quieted. Just two arcs of the object showed on either side of the main viewer, like a pair of enormous space-bound parentheses. Sulu could still see half a dozen beams ensnaring the ship. “Helm, can you break us free?”
Back at his console, Rehan stabbed at his controls. “Trying, Captain,” he said. “Thrusters are making no appreciable difference.”
Thrusters! Sulu thought, judging the conservative and ineffective choice as further evidence of his gamma-shift crew’s lack of experience. “Impulse power now,” he ordered. “Navigator, plot a course directly away from the object.”
“Impulse power, aye,” Rehan replied.
“Course laid in,” T’Jen said.
The low-pitched hum of the ship’s sublight drive rose in the bridge, a familiar cushion of sound and vibration that provided Sulu with hope. He had no idea who sought to capture his ship and crew or why, but he would do everything he could to prevent it. Almost at once, though, the drone of the impulse drive increased in pitch, beginning to wail as it struggled to counteract the pull of the tractor beams. Sulu didn’t need a status report to know that the ship was failing to break free.
“Helm, go to one hundred twenty-five percent of impulse,” he said. He wouldn’t risk engaging the warp engines this deep in a planetary gravity well, or that close to another object, but he would burn out the impulse drive if necessary—and then, if pushed to it, open fire.
“One hundred twenty-five percent of impulse, aye,” Rehan said, working his console.
As the thrum of the sublight engines grew louder and deeper—an encouraging sound to the captain—the starboard turbolift doors whisked open. Beskle Crajjik, Sulu’s first officer, dashed onto the bridge. He headed toward the captain, who pointed at the inert form of Lieutenant Ressix lying on the deck. Without a word, Crajjik dropped to his knees beside the young man and began examining him.
Once more, the impulse drive started to whine, but not as much as it had previously. “The tractor beams are showing signs of strain,” Benton said. “Our movement toward the object has stopped.”
“Impulse engines are threatening to overload, Captain,” Rehan said.
“Let them,” Sulu said. “We need to break free.”
He heard one of the aft doors open, and then, from the tactical station, came a familiar voice, calm and steady. “I’m here, Captain,” said the ship’s laconic, stone-faced chief of security, Ryan Leslie.
“Target—” Sulu began, but he never finished the order. Excelsior pitched violently, the strong, abrupt motion hurling him to the deck.
“Several tractor beams have failed,” Benton yelled, not from the tactical console, but clearly from some secondary station.
Sulu got up and looked at the main viewer. He saw a single section of the object, much larger than before. Something else suddenly appeared, circling in from the edge of the screen. Although the captain recognized it at once, the context at first confused him. He then realized that when the struggles of the impulse engines to overcome Excelsior’s seizure caused some of the tractor beams to fail, the ship’s drive had carried the newly unencumbered section of the ship in one direction and the rest of it in the other. As Sulu watched, Excelsior yawed to port, sending the warp nacelle on that side of the ship hurtling toward the object.
The captain opened his mouth to give an order, but the words never made it to his lips. Excelsior’s port nacelle slammed into the inner side of the object. Sulu toppled back to the deck, the thunderous sound of the collision painfully loud. He lifted his head as the ship quaked. On the viewscreen, a gash exposed the inside of the object to space, and pieces of wreckage glinted in the sunlight as they floated away from the point of impact. The remaining tractor beams continued to pull Excelsior into the object.
“Targeting tractor beams,” Leslie said, but before he could fire, the pylon supporting the port nacelle snapped. The warp engine struck the engineering section of the ship and shattered, raining down destruction upon the hull. An explosion sent fiery wreckage hurtling into space, and the emergency lighting went out without even flickering first, leaving the bridge bathed in the glow of control consoles.
“Leslie, separate the saucer section!” Sulu yelled, not trusting the complicated maneuver to the green Crewman Rehan in such dangerous conditions. The captain floundered back to his feet as the rock-solid form of his security chief bounded from the outer ring of the bridge and over to the helm, where Rehan barely had time to get out of his way. “Aaron,” Sulu said, “contact all transporter rooms and have them beam the crew over from the secondary hull.” During a call to battle stations, operators staffed all of the ship’s transporters.
“The saucer’s locking mechanisms aren’t responding,” called Leslie. “We can’t separate.”
Sulu threw himself toward the command chair. He groped for the panel on its arm and found the controls he needed, but before activating them, he took one more look at the viewscreen, just in time to see a chunk of compromised hull tear into the second nacelle. The captain brought his fingers down on two separate control surfaces. A booming alarm even louder and more insistent than the red-alert klaxon went up through the ship.
“Abandon ship,” ordered a male voice distinctly different from the usual female identity of Excelsior’s library-computer interface. “All personnel report to escape pods. This is not a drill.”
Sulu peered in Crajjik’s direction, though he could barely see him in the darkened bridge. He spied two silhouettes, though, as the first officer helped Lieutenant Ressix to his feet. At the navigator’s station, T’Jen had risen, and she and Rehan looked to the captain, as though for additional guidance. “Go!” he yelled at them, pointing toward the hull panel beside one of the turbolifts, which had already swung open to allow access to the passage leading to the escape pods. A dim but much-needed emergency light shined from within. Fortunately, Starfleet equipped those systems in every section of every starship with their own independent power supply. The announcement to abandon ship, the automatic opening of hull panels, the lighting in the passages beyond them, and the escape pod launchers would be the last functioning equipment aboard Excelsior.
As the bridge crew hurried toward the open hull panel, a hand grabbed the captain strongly by his biceps and pulled him from the command chair. Standing five or so centimeters taller than Sulu, the security chief gazed down at him, the reflected illumination of a control panel revealing urgency in his eyes, but a demeanor otherwis
e remarkably composed. “You have to go,” Leslie told him. “Now.”
Sulu looked all around the bridge and saw nobody left at any of the stations. He nodded to the security chief, and together they headed for the passage leading to the escape pods. Once there, Leslie stepped aside to allow the captain to enter first, but Sulu stopped and pushed his hand into the small of the commander’s back. The security chief hesitated, but then went first. Sulu followed.
The ship’s hatch allowing access to the first escape pod hung open. Leslie moved past it. Sulu stepped up, peered inside the pod, and counted out the crew in his head: Millán from sciences, Benton from tactical, First Officer Crajjik with the injured Ressix, and Boyle, De Luco, Luckman, and Ybarra, the four supplementary personnel who’d been working at secondary consoles.
Eight of the crew for eight seats, Sulu thought. Crajjik moved toward the hatch, plainly intending to exit after having loaded Ressix aboard, but the captain held up his hand. When the first officer stopped, Sulu reached in and pulled the pod’s inner hatch shut, then backed up and swung Excelsior’s hatch closed atop it. The crew could have launched themselves, but Sulu didn’t wait. He opened a panel in the bulkhead, verified the pod’s readiness, and then shot the handle that would allow eight of his seven hundred thirty-two crew to make their escape from their doomed vessel. He heard a hydraulic sound, and then the round port in the hatch showed nothing but empty space.
Leslie had moved on to the next escape pod, the second of the three that served the bridge. Sulu joined him, and when he looked through the hatch there, he saw Rehan from the helm, T’Jen from navigation, and Aaron from communications, leaving only the security chief and the captain behind. “It’s time to go, sir,” Leslie said.
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