Star Trek: Typhon Pact - 13 - The Fall: Peaceable Kingdoms

by Dayton Ward

  Andorian Freighter Cereshta

  Very little about their present situation made sense to Worf, and the longer he and the away team stayed aboard this vessel, the more intense that sensation was becoming.

  “Someone’s definitely been servicing a small transport or something similar,” said Lieutenant Aneta Šmrhová from where she stood at a workstation sitting atop a wheeled pedestal positioned near the center of the Andorian freighter’s immense primary cargo bay. “Maybe a pair of them. There’s certainly enough room here to park a couple of them side by side, and they tried to erase the service logs, but they did a pretty poor job of that. It’s almost like it was a backhanded effort before whoever did it decided it was time to leave, and they didn’t care if they failed. Odd.”

  In addition to the workstation, three different tool lockers as well as optical cabling and other diagnostic and repair equipment—only some of which Worf recognized—had been positioned at various points around the open area, which was surrounded by immense containers that he knew contained vast amounts of the processed erinadium ore. It was the arrangement of the storage implements that had caused Worf and Šmrhová to believe that at least one small ship—possibly two—had occupied the cargo bay’s otherwise clear deck, with the tools and other equipment arrayed around it while members of the Cereshta’s crew—or other, unidentified persons—serviced said craft.

  “According to the data banks,” Worf said as he made his way down the length of the cargo bay’s interior bulkhead, “this ship carried no smaller vessels aside from its escape pods. Perhaps the transport or shuttle was itself an item being delivered to another party.”

  Šmrhová frowned as she looked up from the console. “Why not just have it flown to its destination? I mean, I suppose protecting some kind of smuggling operation might be the answer.”

  “We will ask the remaining crewmembers about that,” Worf replied, using his tricorder to guide him along one bulkhead. “Assuming we can find them, of course.” The Andorian life signs had remained faint but steady since Enterprise sensors had first detected them. Upon entering the cargo space, Worf’s tricorder had indicated the readings to be coming from somewhere deeper in the chamber, but upon his and Šmrhová’s entering the bay, no one had come running to meet them. No one had answered their repeated shouts alerting anyone to their presence. So far as Worf could tell, the life signs had moved not one iota. Were they trapped or incapacitated? While that might explain their lack of action in the face of imminent rescue, it also made Worf consider how such a situation may have come about in the first place.

  The tricorder readings were leading him to a hatch that, according to the technical schematic provided by Commander La Forge, accessed a smaller storage space. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Šmrhová crossing the bay toward him, her own phaser and tricorder once more in her hands.

  “This should be it,” said the security chief. Returning her tricorder to its holder at her waist, she reached into a pocket on the thigh of her environment suit and produced a P-38, which she affixed to the hatch. She activated the device, and Worf heard its string of telltale beeps before that sound was replaced by the hiss of the hatch disengaging its magnetic seal. Out of habit, Worf stepped to one side as the door began to slide open, rather than allow himself to be framed in the open hatchway and perhaps become a target, whether by a frantic Andorian survivor or anyone else who might be waiting for them.

  No one was waiting for them.

  “Hello?” Šmrhová called out before stepping around the edge of the doorway and shining her helmet lights into the smaller compartment. The beams played off the collection of storage lockers, boxes, other containers of varying sizes and shapes, and assorted items Worf did not recognize. “Is anyone in here? We’re from the U.S.S. Enterprise, and we answered your distress call.”

  “The life signs are in this room,” Worf said. Taking point, he stepped into the room, following the readings on his tricorder until it led him to a storage locker that was too small to accommodate even a single person, let alone two. His unease growing with every passing second, he reached for the locker’s door and opened it, his eyes locking on the single item it contained. The tricorder, a civilian model Worf had seen used by merchant freighters and construction engineers, lay at the bottom of the locker, active and emanating a low, barely audible hum. In his hand, his own tricorder was telling him what he already knew.

  “Faked?” Šmrhová asked. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It is not a joke,” Worf said, reaching for his suit’s communicator link. “Worf to La Forge! This is all a trap! Evacuate the ship! Now!”

  His next words were drowned out by the wail of an alarm siren erupting across the cargo bay. Startled by the abrupt noise intrusion, he saw that Šmrhová flinched, as well.

  “What the hell is that?” she snapped. Before he even could give the order to move, Worf felt the security chief grab him by his arm and pull him from the storage compartment. As they plunged back into the main cargo bay, he now saw alert indicators flashing the length of the chamber.

  “Worf!” La Forge’s voice erupted from his communication link. “Some kind of booby trap’s been triggered. The warp core is going to breach any minute! We need to get the hell out of here right now!”

  * * *

  Rising from his chair, Picard stepped toward the main viewscreen, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing as Geordi La Forge’s voice conveyed his frantic report.

  “What happened?” he asked, looking to Ensign Abigail Balidemaj, the security officer overseeing the tactical station while Lieutenant Šmrhová was off the ship.

  “Unknown, sir. So far as I can tell, the triggering of the alarms came after Commander La Forge gained access to the freighter’s engineering section.”

  A deliberate act, Picard decided, but to what end? If it was a ruse, had it been set for whichever vessel answered the distress call, or had the Enterprise away team, and perhaps even the ship itself, been the specific intended target?

  Not now.

  “How much time do they have?”

  Without looking up from her console, Balidemaj replied, “Less than two minutes, sir, and we still can’t get a transporter lock.”

  Another alarm sounded across the bridge, and Glinn Dygan turned in his seat at the ops station. “Captain, the freighter has activated a tractor beam and directed it at us.”

  “What?” Picard heard the astonishment in his own voice, his attention now divided by the viewscreen and the young Cardassian. On the screen, a thin green beam of energy now was visible, emanating from the Cereshta’s forward section and reaching across space. From the image’s perspective, the beam seemed to be aiming at a point just above the edge of the screen’s frame.

  “Confirmed, sir,” Dygan replied. “The beam isn’t being used to pull the Enterprise. The freighter is being drawn closer to us.”

  “Adjust our position to keep them at maximum transporter range. Stand by phasers. I want that tractor beam eliminated.” Stepping between the conn and ops stations, Picard called out, “Enterprise to away team! Get off that ship immediately!”

  Over the open communications link came the sound of La Forge’s labored breathing as he shouted, “We’re on our way, Captain!”

  At the conn station, Lieutenant T’Ryssa Chen reported, “Adjusting our position, sir. They’re still coming.”

  “Phasers standing by,” said Dygan.

  “Fire.”

  Picard watched as the first pair of orange-white energy beams lanced across space, appearing from the viewscreen’s bottom edge to strike the freighter near its bow, but there was a visible disruption just before the beams made contact with the ship itself. Energy erupted in the void as the phasers impacted against the otherwise invisible barrier.

  “The tractor beam emitter is shielded,” Dygan said. Without waiting for Picard’s order, the Cardassian repeated the firing sequence, and he did so a third time before the phaser beams penetr
ated the deflector shield and reached the Cereshta’s hull.

  Balidemaj called out, “That’s got it. Tractor beam is down.”

  Nodding at the report, Picard said, “Bridge to transporter room. Are you able to scan the away team?”

  “Transporter room. Lieutenant Nader, sir. I scan them, but I can’t get a lock!”

  “Maintain scans until further notice, Lieutenant.”

  “Captain,” Balidemaj said, “without transporters, there’s no way we’ll be able to get the away team out of there and get away ourselves before the freighter’s warp core breaches.”

  Picard, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen and the image of the Cereshta, offered only a single nod. “One thing at a time, Lieutenant. Conn, continue adjusting our position relative to the freighter and keep us just within transporter range. Place phasers and a full barrage of quantum torpedoes on standby, and prepare to fire at my command.”

  Dygan cast a tentative look over his shoulder, “Sir?”

  “You heard my order, Mister Dygan. Make it so.” Folding his arms, Picard continued to stare at the freighter, which now was little more than a drifting bomb in space, much too close to the Enterprise for his comfort, and much too far away—for the moment, at least—for him to do anything to help his people in danger.

  One damned thing at a time.

  * * *

  As fast as his confining environment suit allowed him to do so, La Forge covered the last few meters of corridor leading to the airlock used by the away team to board the Cereshta, following the telltale glow of the lights on the helmets worn by Worf and Šmrhová. The first officer and the security chief were waiting for them, and La Forge knew that even his Klingon friend’s normally severe, even unreadable expression showed signs of worry as he and Taurik arrived.

  “I’d like to go on record as saying this little field trip was a really bad idea,” Šmrhová offered by way of greeting.

  “No argument from me,” La Forge said, holding out his arms and motioning her and the others toward the airlock’s outer hatch.

  “Do you know what happened?” Worf asked.

  “Later!” La Forge snapped. After sealing the inner hatch, he took one last look to verify that the rest of the team was in position—crouching near the door with arms raised to protect their helmet faceplates—before setting the controls to override the compartment’s depressurization sequence. “Okay, here we go!” he barked just before slamming his fist against the airlock control.

  He had just enough time to hunch down into something resembling a protective stance before the lock’s outer hatch cycled open and the air trapped in the small chamber exploded for the opening, carrying the away team with it into the void. On his way through the door, La Forge grunted in momentary pain as his left boot struck the edge of the hatch, but no alarms sounded within his suit to alert him of any loss of internal atmosphere. Within seconds he was in open space. Worf and the others were drifting in similar fashion, their momentum carrying them all away from the Cereshta.

  “I’m not sure this is better or worse than staying aboard the ship,” Šmrhová said.

  Using his suit’s thrusters, La Forge brought his tumbling under control while trying to re-orient himself. He now faced the Cereshta, but he could not see the Enterprise, which almost certainly had been moved to beyond transporter range.

  “Commander!”

  La Forge sensed the hand on his arm before he felt himself being turned away from the Andorian ship, and he saw Šmrhová holding on to him as she keyed her suit’s thrusters, maneuvering them both closer to where Worf and Taurik had brought their own wayward flights under control. All four of them now were continuing to pull farther away from the Cereshta, and La Forge was counting off seconds in his head.

  We should be dead any time now.

  “Enterprise to away team,” called out the voice of Captain Picard, resonating in his helmet. “Stand by for transport.”

  “Look!”

  Feeling the tug on his arm, La Forge turned his head to see that Šmrhová was pointing away from the freighter, and then he caught sight of the Enterprise, growing larger with every passing second as it closed the distance.

  “What the hell are they doing?” was all La Forge had time to ask before twin beams of energy erupted from the ship’s forward phaser arrays, lancing past the away team and passing overhead on their way to slam into the Cereshta. The continuous beams were followed by pairs of pulsing blue-white orbs launching away from the Enterprise, each one targeting the wayward freighter. Plowing into the unprotected vessel, the torpedoes bored through hull plates and into its depths before detonating, sending plumes of debris into space. Instinct made La Forge throw up his hands in what he knew was a futile effort to defend himself, but then bursts of energy erupted before him as the chunks of shrapnel impacted against something unseen.

  “The Enterprise extended her shields to protect us!” he heard Worf call out over the communications link.

  Watching the violent conflict between mass and energy unfold before him, La Forge at first did not sense the welcome, familiar tingle of a transporter beam forming around his body. Then his view of the Enterprise framed by distant stars and the nearby Drazen Nebula vanished, replaced with that of the starship’s transporter room. Like the rest of the away team, he materialized in standing position, his arms held before him as he had been doing seconds earlier.

  “Is anyone injured?” Worf asked, his voice at first sounding in La Forge’s helmet before becoming muffled as the Klingon removed his own suit’s headgear.

  No one even had time to answer before the entire ship seemed to shudder around him. La Forge tried to steady himself as the deck heaved beneath his feet, but he ended up tumbling from the transporter platform as the lighting flickered and alarms began wailing. He dropped to the deck, and Šmrhová fell on top of him, and he heard her grunt of surprise as she rolled away. La Forge heard the sound of the Enterprise’s warp engines fluctuating, and even as the drone stabilized, he could tell that something was wrong.

  “All stations, damage reports!” said the voice of Glinn Dygan over the intercom system. “Internal sensors registering a hull breach on Deck Seventeen.”

  “The Enterprise’s proximity to the freighter may have subjected the ship to greater damage than our shields could sustain,” Taurik said as he rose from one knee and stepped from the transporter platform. “Closing to a distance where the shields could be extended to protect us may have compromised them, as well.”

  Lieutenant George Nader, the transporter room’s officer on duty, picked himself up from where he had fallen behind the transporter console and moved toward the platform. “Is everyone okay?”

  “I think so,” La Forge said, accepting the lieutenant’s offered hand to help him to his feet. Looking behind him, he saw that Šmrhová, Taurik, and Worf also were rising from where they had fallen.

  “Worf to bridge,” the Klingon called out to the intercom system. “The away team has returned safely.”

  Through the speakers Picard’s voice said, “Glad to hear it, Commander. Mister La Forge, you’ve likely gathered that your expertise will be required in engineering. Our shields overloaded from protecting you and the ship against the freighter’s explosion. Reports are coming in from all departments, and we’ve apparently suffered damage to the warp drive.”

  Šmrhová said, “Considering the goal likely was to destroy the Enterprise, I’d say we got off lucky.”

  “It seems a logical conclusion,” Taurik said. “Everything we encountered aboard the freighter suggests subterfuge.”

  Ignoring the side discussion, La Forge kept his attention on his conversation with Picard. “What happened, sir? Did the freighter’s warp core breach?”

  “No,” the captain replied. “When we saw the overload had been triggered, we moved in and destroyed the ship before that could happen. Unfortunately, that meant getting close enough to protect you with the shields until a transporter lock could be obtaine
d. You have Lieutenant Nader to thank for getting you out of there when he did.”

  La Forge reached out to clap the transporter officer on the shoulder. “Drinks are on me the next time we’re someplace where I actually need to buy them.” To Picard, he said, “Taurik and I are on our way to engineering now, Captain.”

  “Very well, Commander.” There was a pause for several seconds before Picard said, “Mister Worf, I’ll need you and Lieutenant Šmrhová on the bridge. We have a new development.”

  “Acknowledged,” Worf replied. “May I ask what’s happened, sir?”

  “We may have a sensor lock on whoever laid that trap for us, Number One.”

  * * *

  Pacing around the bridge’s perimeter stations, Picard sensed the tension radiating from his crew. After the close call with the Cereshta, the near loss of the away team, and the strong suspicion that the Enterprise had been the deliberate target for destruction, his people wanted answers—and justice. Picard wanted that, too, but those things would have to wait, at least for the moment. For now, there only was one goal.

  “I want that ship,” he said, moving to stand once more between the conn and ops stations. On the main viewscreen, the small, angular vessel that had emerged from the Drazen Nebula and gone to warp was continuing to make a bid at escape. Its profile was low and narrow, with a pair of warp nacelles tucked in close to its primary hull in a manner similar to a Starfleet shuttlecraft. Picard already had ordered pursuit, knowing even as he issued the commands that the Enterprise, having suffered damage as a consequence of the Andorian freighter’s destruction, might not be up to the task. “Who are they? Can you identify the vessel?”

  At the tactical console, Ensign Balidemaj replied, “It’s a civilian ship, Captain. Scout class or personal transport, but it’s had some serious modifications. It’s got a warp drive on par with one of our runabouts and comparable weapons and shields. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was a Starfleet ship.”

  Struck by a thought as he recalled what Worf and Lieutenant Šmrhová had reported during the investigation of the Cereshta, he glanced over his shoulder at the young tactical officer. “Ensign, how big is that ship? Too big to fit in the cargo space of that freighter?”