by Greg Cox
“Perhaps we can turn this unexpected development to our advantage,” the commander said. “We can use that ship, both to complete our colonization of this world and to speed our expansion across this vast new cosmos.”
Eljor looked troubled by hir leader’s declaration. “In due time, of course, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We are still transforming this planet. There will be time enough to reach for other worlds.”
“Not so, Professor. You fail to grasp the larger picture. Now that we know that other creatures infest this universe, it becomes all the more imperative that we secure our place in it and ensure that the future belongs to the Jatohr alone.” Hir tentacles strained toward the screen. “And claiming that ship is the first step on the road to that future.”
Una felt sick to her stomach.
Bad enough that her first landing party had ended in disaster. Now the Enterprise was in danger too, and she was to blame!
Ten
“Captain, we’re being hailed from the planet.”
April sat up straight. Hours had passed since they had last heard from the landing party, who had requested permission to take a closer look at the labor camp down on the planet, and the only communication they’d received had been from an unidentified voice that, according to Sanawey, had appeared to come from somewhere within the alien citadel. To say that the situation was confounding would be an understatement.
“Lieutenant Una . . . or someone else?”
“I believe it is a Newcomer,” Sanawey said grimly. “Using one of our frequencies.”
April shared the communications chief’s unease. That a Starfleet communicator had fallen into the hands of the aliens did not bode well for the landing party.
“Can we make visual contact?” he asked.
“Affirmative,” Sanawey said. “If you prefer.”
“Do it,” April said. “Let’s see who’s knocking at our door.”
“Aye, Captain. Universal translator engaged.”
The planet, slowly revolving on the main viewer, was replaced by an alien countenance distinguished by three pairs of tentacles in lieu of a humanoid face. Striped orange skin glistened wetly. April took in the Newcomer’s unusual appearance. Truth to tell, he’d encountered more attractive beings before, but he knew better than to judge a sentient life-form on the basis of their appearance. One of the kindest, most honest beings he’d ever met was a sentient cactus on Zebulus Major, while an Aetherian seraph looked positively angelic before it bared its fangs. Appearances could be misleading, in more ways than one.
“Attention: foreign vessel. This is the Jatohr. Respond at once.”
April recalled the landing party’s discovery that the Newcomers called themselves the Jatohr. The brusque communication sounded more like a command than a request, but he tried to keep an open mind regarding the colonists. They had every reason to be wary of an alien spacecraft appearing uninvited above their outpost.
“This is Captain April. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Commandeer Woryan of the Jatohr and this world is ours. Surrender your ship and crew or face the consequences.”
The crew reacted visibly to the implied threat, but maintained discipline. This was hardly the first time a newly encountered alien species had initiated contact by rattling their sabers, even though April would have preferred to commence relations on a less belligerent note. Alas, it seemed the Jatohr were not much for pleasantries.
“Hold on there,” April said. “This is the first meeting between our two peoples. Let us not begin with threats and ultimatums.” He went straight to the matter foremost on his mind. “What has become of our landing party?”
“Those intruders have been captured or removed. You would be wise to comply with our demands.”
“What do you mean by ‘removed’?” April asked, puzzled and fearing the worst. “Let me talk to my people.”
“You are in no position to make demands. Your ship belongs to us now. Surrender it at once.”
April frowned. So far the Jatohr were making the Klingons seem agreeable. He hoped that the Jatohr wouldn’t resort to employing their prisoners as hostages, which would place any surviving members of the landing party in mortal jeopardy. There was, sadly, no question what his response to any such ultimatum would have to be. He could by no means surrender a Federation spaceship to hostile alien invaders of unknown origin, even if that meant sacrificing the lives of good men and women under his command.
“Your demand is unreasonable,” he said firmly. “We are more than willing to talk to you in order to resolve any differences amicably, but understand that we will not surrender our ship under any circumstances.” His face and tone hardened, revealing the steel beneath his affable manner. “And know also that we are fully armed and will vigorously defend ourselves if called upon to do so.”
“Captain,” Lorna Simon reported from the science station. “We’re being scanned from the planet.”
“Raise shields,” April ordered. “Any evidence of long-range weapon placements on the surface?”
“Negative,” she said. “No sign of any Jatohr ships either. Not in space or launching from the planet.”
“Condition yellow,” the captain ordered nonetheless. Blinking annunciator lights brought the entire ship to a heightened state of readiness. April felt the level of tension on the bridge rise perceptibly as well. They were in choppy waters here.
“You have been warned,” Woryan declared. “We will now demonstrate our superior power.”
At the nav station, less than a meter away from April, Ensign Cheryl Stevens abruptly blinked out of existence. A fresh cup of tea crashed to the deck as Yeoman Bruce Goldberg vanished simultaneously. Fine china shattered, accompanied by gasps and exclamations all over the bridge. As well trained as the crew was, none of them were prepared to see two crew members disappear into thin air, with only a momentary flash of light to signal their departure.
Their captain was equally startled. “What the devil?” he blurted, before responding to the attack. “Increase power to shields! Red alert!”
A button on his armrest switched the cautionary yellow lights to flashing red alarms. An emergency klaxon sounded throughout the entire ship, although April swiftly silenced it on the bridge. Under ordinary circumstances, the navigator might have carried out the captain’s command to raise shields, but an empty seat forced the helmsman to take control of the ship’s tactical systems instead.
“Deflectors at maximum, sir,” Lieutenant Carlos Florida reported. “And then some.”
April tried to figure out how the Jatohr were targeting their victims. “Kill the visuals!” he ordered Sanawey. “Don’t let them see us.”
The Apache officer complied instantly. Woryan’s off-putting visage disappeared from the screen, replaced by the previous view of the planet below.
April hoped that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
Ensign Dylan Craig hurried to take over at the nav station, but disappeared before he could even sit down. Across the bridge, Lieutenant Ingrid Holstine vanished in a flash. The rest of the crew froze in place, uncertain who would be next. There seemed to be nowhere to run and no way to escape whatever invisible force was being directed at the ship. It was as though they were being picked off randomly by an unseen sniper. To their credit, April noted, not one crew member abandoned their post or attempted to flee the bridge.
“Stop this!” he shouted at the Jatohr. “You’ve made your point. No more.”
An endless moment stretched to infinity as he waited tensely for more personnel to disappear, but the rest of the bridge crew remained in place. He remembered to breathe as Woryan’s bodiless voice emanated from the speakers.
“This was merely a demonstration. Surrender or see your entire crew removed.”
April worried about the lost cre
w members, but forced himself to focus on the immediate threat. “I’d rethink that strategy if I were you. This ship can’t operate without a full crew complement, and how precisely will you board the Enterprise if you reduce it to an empty ghost ship?”
To date, there was no indication that the Jatohr had shuttlecrafts waiting to launch or that they were capable of beaming aboard the Enterprise if they were so inclined. Granted, they were obviously able to “remove” people easily enough, even through the ship’s shields, but April gambled that that was a different kettle of fish.
“Perhaps we cannot remove your entire crew,” Woryan acknowledged after a moment’s pause. “But how many of your people are you prepared to sacrifice. A third? A half? Do not think that we will allow you to spy on us with impunity, nor to depart so that you may return again to menace us.”
“We are no menace,” April insisted. “And, unlike you, we have taken no hostile action”
“You are not Jatohr and you have a ship. This cannot be permitted. If we cannot police our own skies, we are not safe.”
“Paranoid much?” Simon shook her head in disgust. “Xenophobes . . . they’re the worst.”
April knew how she felt. His sympathy for the oppressed Usildar was growing by the moment, although he had to concentrate on saving his ship and crew first, which meant proving to the Jatohr that they were no pushovers.
He signaled Sanawey to mute the sound from the bridge. “Anybody up for a little target practice?”
Simon peered into her full-spectrum scanner. “I’m picking up a large rock formation approximately seventy-five meters from the citadel.” She turned and nodded at Florida. “Transmitting coordinates to tactical.”
April reopened his line to the Jatohr.
“We are not a menace,” he repeated forcefully, “but we are not victims either. You have demonstrated your power. So be it. Let us demonstrate ours.” He signaled Florida. “Show them our teeth, Carlos.”
“With pleasure, sir,” the stocky youth said. “Firing lasers.”
* * *
A tremor shook the citadel, distinct and different from the everyday rumbling of the sanctuary’s ongoing renovations. Woryan gripped the display table to maintain hir balance, while, nearby, the captive biped staggered atop her spindly lower limbs. The Jatohr commander was comforted by this timely demonstration of the alien’s inferiority, but was alarmed by the jolt regardless.
“What has happened?” Woryan demanded. “Are we under attack? Report!”
Surveillance Deputy Frajas responded promptly. “The sanctuary is undamaged, but an energy beam from orbit barely missed us!”
Woryan glared at the alien captive, while shouting at hir staff, “Show me!”
The image on the main viewer, still depicting the bridge of the alien vessel and its grotesque inhabitants, switched to a view of the lake and landscape surrounding the citadel. A crimson energy beam shot down from the sky to strike one of the imposing rock formations in the vicinity, which was instantly reduced to dust. The force of the blast churned up the lake and sent a shock wave across its surface. Powdered debris flew in all directions.
The devastation rattled Woryan both physically and otherwise. That fearsome beam had come far too close for comfort. If it had struck the sanctuary instead . . . !
“I knew your ship posed a mortal threat to my people!” The commander had switched to the Usildar’s bestial tongue to confront the creature who called herself an Una. S/he shook hir claspers at the revolting being. “Your ‘peaceful’ captain nearly destroyed us all!”
“If Captain April wanted this citadel destroyed, it would be a smoking crater,” the Una insisted. “That wasn’t a miss. That was a warning shot.”
Eljor backed her up. “I suspect she’s telling the truth, Commander. We demonstrated our offensive capabilities; her captain replied in kind.” Hir tentacles swayed pensively. “Indeed, it could be argued that Captain April’s response was a notably measured one, given that we permanently removed four members of his crew.”
“Are you siding with these creatures, Professor?” Woryan extended hir head and throat, increasing hir height advantage over the shriveled scientist. “Have you forgotten where your loyalties lie?”
“Not in the least, Commander. I have devoted my life and work to the preservation of our people, as you well know. I am merely noting that Una’s interpretation of events has the ring of truth. I would advise against testing the Enterprise’s aim for the time being.” S/he gurgled wryly. “We can remove their people, but it seems they can just as easily blast us to pieces. An interesting dilemma, don’t you think?”
“I do not have the luxury of finding this situation ‘interesting,’ ” Woryan spat. “I only know that these beings—and all their kind—are a menace that must be eliminated at all costs!”
Defeating the strangers, and capturing their mighty vessel, was nothing less than hir sacred duty, no matter what “warnings” issued from the coarse, inscrutable countenance of the alien captain, whose voice reverberated through the command chamber once more.
* * *
“Don’t even thinking about retaliating,” April warned the Jatohr, before any more crew members could be deleted from the bridge, “or we will turn our weapons directly on your citadel. And even if you remove my entire crew at once, the ship’s computer has been programmed to completely destroy your entire outpost and all your installations before self-destructing.”
That last part was an outright bluff, but April wanted to head off any possible reprisals before the Jatohr escalated the conflict. He wondered, however, if he should program the Enterprise to self-destruct in the event of an alien takeover.
Heaven help us if it comes to that.
He waited tensely for the Jatohr’s response, as did every other soul on the bridge. Knowing that their shields were of no use against the Newcomers’ baffling attacks, which struck without warning, left April feeling singularly vulnerable. Facing off against a Klingon battle cruiser was one thing; at least you could see disruptor blast or photon torpedo coming and attempt a defense. But how did you protect yourself from a force that seemingly came out nowhere, claiming its victims without a moment’s notice?
Except, of course, by striking back with sufficient force.
“Do not attempt to leave orbit,” Woryan replied finally, “or risk certain destruction.”
“No one wants that,” April replied. “A negotiated solution would be to our mutual—”
“The transmission has been cut off, Captain,” Sanawey reported. “They’re not listening.”
“But they’re not retaliating yet or demanding our immediate surrender anymore,” April said. “It appears we’ve given them pause at least.” He nodded at Florida. “Good shooting, Carlos.”
“Thank you, sir. I just wish they would surrender . . . and give us our people back.”
If they still exist to be returned, April thought. For all they knew, the vanished crew members had been disintegrated somehow, wiped irrevocably from existence, while the fate of the landing crew remained a mystery as well. “If only, Carlos. If only.”
“So we have a stand-off,” Simon said, succinctly assessing the situation.
Based on the concept of mutual assured destruction, April thought. An ugly tactic from a tragic chapter in Earth’s history. Let us hope that matters here don’t end as badly as they did on Earth back during World War III.
“All right, children,” he said. “Talk to me.”
He welcomed the input of his crew, even if the final decision was his and his alone. Talking out their options might lead to a way out of their current impasse.
“I hate to say it,” Simon said, “but we could always try to make a fast getaway. Break orbit and put plenty of distance between us and the planet.” She shrugged at her station. “Mind you, we have no idea what their weapons range is, so it could be
a short trip.”
“Speaking of which, what manner of attack are we dealing with here?” April asked aloud. “And how did it get past our shields?”
“Not a clue,” Simon admitted. “Sensor logs recording nothing in the way of conventional weaponry or even a transporter beam.”
“Sir?” Florida asked. “What do you think happened to Stevens and the others? Are they just gone . . . or gone for good, if you know what I mean?”
April sighed. “I wish I knew, Carlos.”
“I don’t believe they were vaporized,” Simon said, offering a smidgen of hope. “Internal scanners aren’t picking up residue or remains, not even on an atomic level.” Stepping away from the science station, she obtained a tricorder from a storage compartment and used it to scan the empty seat where Ensign Stevens had been sitting before. “There’s no trace of her. Not even a quantum echo.”
“So what does that mean?” Florida asked.
“That she’s not here, which means she might still be somewhere else.” Simon lowered the tricorder. “Possibly.”
“Then we won’t write any eulogies just yet,” April said. “Nor abandon hope for our lost comrades until we have a clearer understanding of their fate.”
A backup crewman, Lieutenant Michelle Roberts, came forward to take Stevens’s place at nav. She swallowed hard, but hesitated only a moment before assuming the post.
Brave woman, April thought.
“What is the word, sir?” Carlos asked. “Are we breaking orbit?”
April shook his head. “Not yet, I think.”
As Simon had so astutely pointed out, the range of the Jatohr’s mysterious weapon remained undetermined, making a successful retreat far from a foregone conclusion. Moreover, April was not ready to depart Usilde with matters as they were: the landing party held captive, the Usildar losing their planet to the invaders, and, perhaps most crucially, an unknown, aggressive alien race in possession of a terrifying super-weapon against which there was no ready defense. Nor had the actual origins of the Jatohr, or the full extent of their territorial ambitions, been discovered yet; what if their colonization efforts extended beyond Usilde? Far more than the safety of the Enterprise might be at stake. This could be a matter of Federation security.
