Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic

by David A. McIntee

  “Oh, the Miracle Worker. I had no idea he was still in the Starfleet.”

  La Forge stepped into the comm pickup. “We’ve already been able to discuss it over a communications link and we both agree it’s our best hope.”

  “Hope isn’t a strategy I can use. If you have something practical to say, go ahead, but I don’t need the Federation propaganda speech.”

  “I need you to bring Tomalak’s Fist closer to Challenger and Hera. We’ll extend our shields around your ship and through the Hera, and then create a static warp shell within the extension. That way we’ll have a single field on both sides of the spatial fold, and it’ll expand into that space. We’ll then drop shields, but keep the static warp shell in the same configuration. That’ll mean you can fly through the fold and into orbit somewhere between around seventy and a hundred kilometers above the surface.”

  “That’s treetop-skimming in a ship the size of ours.”

  “If your helmsman isn’t sure about it, I’m perfectly willing to lend you mine.”

  Varaan grunted. “Once I’m through, what then?”

  “You should have no problem beaming up the survivors from the surface. You should then be able to fly back through that hundred-kilometer fold, to where we are now. How much capacity does Tomalak’s Fist have?”

  “It was designed for long-range scouting missions, but her interior space is larger than that of Challenger. What is your crew complement? I understand the typical Galaxy-class complement is around fourteen hundred.”

  “We have six hundred and five people right now.”

  “And the Hera’s survivors?”

  “Forty-seven.”

  “We have the room.”

  Three hours later Geordi and Leah were walking in the half-gravity through a near-empty ship. Carolan had supervised the transport of the crew to Tomalak’s Fist. The energy budget was less of a problem without the need to move the ship or support the crew.

  Qat’qa had put the ship firmly in the required position, and engaged automated station-keeping systems before evacuating the ship. Doctor Ogawa and Guinan had taken the neural scanner and makeshift communications setup with them, to where a Romulan named Saldis was installing it on their ship.

  Only Vol was left, down in engineering, setting up the static warp shell.

  “Originally I didn’t want to come aboard,” Geordi reflected, “and now I’m going to miss her.”

  “Me too. I built her, and now I’m going to kill her.”

  “You’re not going to kill her. Not personally. You’re going to see her off.”

  “Yes. The Galaxy-class was designed to last for a hundred years, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s had such a short life.”

  “We all do,” Geordi said softly.

  “Who gets to extend the shields?”

  “I do.”

  She stopped, and looked at him closely. “Don’t get any funny ideas about going down with the ship.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She kissed him, hoping it wasn’t going to be the last time. “I’ll see you on the Romulan ship.”

  La Forge stood alone at the tactical console, one of the few systems still running. This would be the second Galaxy-class ship he had lost.

  On the main viewer, Tomalak’s Fist loomed large, the raptor-like head of the command section appearing to peer into the Challenger through the viewscreen.

  “Vol,” he said, “are you ready?”

  “Hot to trot, Guv.”

  “Varaan?”

  “When you give the word, Captain La Forge.”

  Geordi took a deep breath, activated the shields at maximum power, and extended them around the Romulan ship. He further extended them forward, stabbing invisibly through the hull of the Hera. “Shields extended.”

  “I read you.”

  “Vol, initiate static warp shell.”

  “Right you are.”

  Almost immediately, there was a flicker around the ships, and the Hera began to melt, bleeding forward like a badly copied vid image. The Hera’s hull smeared around the edges as it was enveloped by the shields and static warp shell like oil. It also faded, and Geordi could see stars through it, and, dead ahead, a Luna-sized planet, inflating like a balloon.

  “Transport now, Varaan.”

  The Challenger’s bridge vanished from around Geordi, and he felt distraught knowing that he would never see her again.

  As Vol and Geordi materialized in one of the transporter rooms aboard Tomalak’s Fist, the ship began moving forward, into thin layers of stars between the void and the planet’s surface.

  Slowly at first, but quickly accelerating to a majestic swoop, the great green raptor smoothly dodged the planet’s surface, and then rose once again into star-filled skies.

  Everyone on the planet’s surface hit the dirt as the city-like structure made from the Hera’s interior began to bleed into the sky. Pieces of debris stretched both up into the heavens and down into the depths as the last remnants of the Hera vanished into the storm.

  A few seconds later, something gigantic and green accelerated overhead and upward with a painful subsonic rumble.

  Scotty’s combadge chirped. “This is Commander Varaan of Tomalak’s Fist. Do you have a Mister Scott I could speak to?”

  Scotty was half amazed that the plan had actually worked. “Scott here, Commander Varaan.”

  “I am orbiting the planet, and should be back in transporter range of your group within three minutes.”

  Even the Vulcans among the group looked as if they couldn’t believe their ears. The Caitian, Lieutenant M’Rsya, let out a long screech of joy.

  Three minutes later, true to Varaan’s word, Captain Geordi La Forge, Guinan, Doctor Leah Brahms, and Chairman Sela materialized on the dust bowl plain where the Hera had so recently been.

  La Forge was enjoying catching up with Scotty and Nog again, and hearing about their discoveries on the planet. “Wait a minute. If this planet is a life-form . . .”

  “It is, lad. Trust me on this.”

  “I’m not disagreeing, I’m just thinking. All those beings, the living creatures that have been creating the trans-slipstream wakes by thinking themselves across the galaxy . . . Why do they congregate here instead of just navigating by it?”

  “You mean on the other side of the fold?”

  “Exactly. Where the planet should be. Or maybe that spot should be here. Either way, they have a connection to this world.”

  “It may be their homeworld, I suppose, or just their wee but an’ ben.”

  “It may just be that, but if this whole planet is one huge life-form, maybe they’ve got a personal biological connection to it.”

  “Are ye suggesting it’s their mother?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” La Forge said forcefully “Why not? There’s obviously a connection between them, and it’s not a hostile one.”

  “There’s no evidence for it.”

  “There’s no evidence against it either. If we could get a good sensor reading of one of them as well as the planet, and compare them . . .”

  “Maybe we could talk to it.”

  “To the planet?”

  “I don’t know that it’s capable of communicating in the way that the ship-creatures are, but why not? There’d be no harm in trying, would there?”

  Savar interrupted. “If communication with the planet were possible, we would have sensed it, in our minds.”

  “And there’s been no sign of that?”

  “None,” Savar said. “Your hypothesis about the relationship of the planet to the spaceborne creatures you describe is logical, but merely demonstrates that we don’t have enough data to form a concrete theory. It’s just as likely that this planet, to them, is a source of nourishment, perhaps like the milk cow of Earth. They share a connection, but it is not necessarily familial.”

  La Forge, Silva, Captain. The words were burned into Geordi’s brain and hear
t as permanently as onto the duranium plate. “How did she die?” Savar didn’t answer for a moment, and Geordi got the feeling that maybe he was reluctant to upset his rescuer with an unpleasant tale. “It’s okay, Commander. I . . . I made my peace with her being gone a long time ago.”

  “Captain La Forge was killed in a landslide, approximately fourteen months after our arrival on this planet.”

  “A landslide?” Geordi had never imagined that. He wasn’t sure whether it sounded like a good death or a bad one. Right now, he wasn’t sure whether there was a difference. “Was it . . . Did she suffer?”

  “I do not believe so,” Savar said carefully. La Forge was well aware that Vulcans praised truth quite highly, and couldn’t help wondering whether Savar’s avoidance of a simple yes or no was related to that. The Vulcan seemed to see the uncertainty in his eyes, and continued. “She was missing overnight, and we found her dead amidst the landslide the next day. There is no way to be certain how instantaneous her death was. However, the slide was not far from our camp. I believe that, had she been mortally injured and in pain for any length of time, we would . . .”

  “Have heard her screaming.”

  “We would have known,” Savar finished softly, with a slight nod.

  La Forge nodded. Leah squeezed his hand, while Guinan just knelt and laid a flower on the grave. Geordi had no idea where she had got it, but it was a peace lily, his mother’s favorite.

  Sela looked at it. “My mother has no grave,” she said quietly. “After the execution, the body was disintegrated.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” La Forge said.

  “What would I do with a grave anyway?”

  “Visit it,” Guinan suggested. “Talk to her.”

  “She’s been gone a long time.”

  “Sela,” Guinan said quietly and seriously. “Everything exists, just as long as the last person who remembers it.” She squeezed Sela’s hand now. “You’re living proof of that.”

  There was a faint rumbling from belowground, and Savar looked around like a startled rabbit. “The planetary entity is reacting to us. We must go. Now.”

  Geordi tapped his combadge. “This is La Forge. Five to beam up.”

  47

  “Welcome aboard Tomalak’s Fist, our newest long-range exploration vessel,” Chairman Sela said to Savar as they stepped off the wide rectangular transporter platform.

  La Forge almost laughed at her choice of terminology. “Exploration, huh?”

  “Show me a spacefaring race that doesn’t have either a desire or a need to find new resources, living space, or scientific discoveries. Anyone who doesn’t look for something would never be out in space. They could stay at home and sit and talk over their old achievements. And never make new ones.”

  “There’s another problem that none of you have addressed as yet,” Varaan said, quietly but firmly as he stepped around from behind the transporter console. “Even assuming we succeed in removing this intersection, or spatial fold, and evacuate everyone safely to the position where you first discovered the Hera . . . it’s a very long journey back to the galaxy, and when we get there we’ll just run face-first into the Barrier.”

  La Forge paused. “Actually, Chairman Sela and I have discussed the issue of travel time back to the galaxy . . .”

  “What did you decide?”

  “That we agree to differ.”

  “I think I’d have been shocked otherwise.” Varaan smiled.

  “The galactic barrier has been breached before. It’s purely an engineering problem.”

  “We shall have two hundred years before we reach it. I’m sure that’s more than enough time to develop a solution.” Varaan sighed.

  Varaan held Sela back for a moment when everyone else had left the transporter room. “There’s another issue in question,” Varaan said lightly. “The Federation . . . witnesses.”

  “It wouldn’t have been my choice for them to see this vessel.”

  “And it certainly wouldn’t have been mine.”

  “We need them. They will have to be on the bridge. Is your cloak damaged?”

  “Not any more. It was, when we arrived.”

  “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “As Madam Chairman, or as Sela?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  On the green and beige command deck, Varaan moved to stand between the command chair and the tactical consoles that were under the main viewer, with his hands behind his back like some ancient seafarer braving the wind and water on the prow of his ship. Sela, meanwhile, was in the command chair, leaning forward tensely.

  “Three vessels are approaching,” The Romulan tactical officer reported.

  Varaan raised an eyebrow. “Where did they come from? Were they cloaked?”

  “They must have been . . .”

  “A fourth vessel is—”

  “Is what? Decloaking?”

  “I think . . . forming. Assembling, maybe,” Leah offered.

  “More antibodies,” Scotty said grimly.

  “Antibodies?”

  “When a body is attacked, it forms antibodies from cells. In this case it’s forming defensive craft from the wreckage of the Hera now orbiting the planetoid,” Savar explained.

  Sela’s face was a calculating mask. “How many could it form?”

  “There’s no way to tell without extensive study, and I doubt they’ll give us the time,” Scotty said.

  “Do you have any good news?” Varaan asked.

  “It doesn’t look like they’re under conscious intelligent control,” the tactical officer said.

  “Captain La Forge,” Ogawa called urgently from the Romulan sickbay, “it makes sense for them not to be consciously controlled. They’re antibodies, which means they’ll be acting independently on an instinctive level.”

  “That’s the good news?” asked Sela.

  “It is if you’re worried about whether they’ll be piloted by good tacticians.”

  Varaan had been listening closely. “So what will they do, instinctively?”

  “Home in on this ship and the Challenger, and try to destroy them by brute force. They’ll just try to lock on and give us everything they’ve got.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Scotty asked.

  “There’s a lot of debris orbiting the planetoid, and all of it could be used to form new antibodies. Any that we break down will rejoin the pool of available material and can be reformed, given time.”

  “You mean it has infinite resources for these things?” Sela asked

  “Not infinite. Nothing short of a Q could have infinite resources. But a planet has a lot more energy stored up in it than we do. If we don’t find an escape route, we will run out of energy before they do.”

  “Then we’re dead.” Varaan said simply.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not reading any weapons signatures,” Tornan said, his thick brow furrowing. “Whatever they are, they’re coming closer.”

  “If they have no weapons, they may not be hostile,” Savar said.

  Nog wasn’t buying that. “Or they may be weapons themselves. They could still ram us.”

  “Suicide vessels? I’m not reading any life-forms aboard either. They’re purely mechanical,” Saldis said.

  “Drone vessels, then.”

  “I doubt that’s the right word, somehow . . .” Barclay commented.

  “One of the vessels is in visual range.”

  “Let’s see it,” Sela ordered.

  The nearest approaching vessel looked like a large gyroscope set within a thick metallic framework. Pieces of rock were suspended within incomprehensible conglomerations of piping and tubing.

  As they watched, the chromed silver circles of the gyroscope-like arrangement at the heart of the vessel began to rotate and spin. They moved faster and faster, and, within a few seconds, they were just a translucent blur.

  And that was when it released the first bolt of blazing golden fire.

 
Saldis couldn’t believe his eyes. “They’re converting the rock into high-energy plasma bolts!”

  Qat’qa was impressed. “It makes for a pretty good improvised weapon.”

  “Too good! If they can wear down our shields, their plasma bolts will go clean through the ship from one side to the other!” Saldis exclaimed.

  Varaan seemed unperturbed. “Then let’s make sure we keep the shields up.”

  La Forge said, “Vol, Reg, help out in any way you can.”

  Varaan remained calm. “Activate the cloak—”

  “Don’t waste the energy,” La Forge said quickly. “You could use the extra power to shields and weapons.”

  “You don’t think invisibility is worth more than that in terms of a tactical advantage?”

  “Those ships out there, whatever they really are, are tapped into our minds.”

  Varaan understood immediately. “They don’t need to see the ship to know where we are.”

  Sela snapped, “Divert cloak power to shields.” She rose from Varaan’s seat. “We’d have to decloak to fire anyway, so why waste the time? Varaan, how good is your helmsman?”

  “My best pilot is in surgery. The others are competent.”

  The suggestion leapt out of La Forge’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Qat’qa can take over.” Varaan and Sela looked offended.

  The moment passed. “Do it,” Sela said with a curt nod.

  Varaan was amazed. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No more than you are.” Sela’s voice was cold. “Commander,” she added pointedly.

  Varaan blanched. “My apologies, Madam Chairman. I spoke out of turn, but I’m not turning control of a new ship of the line to a Klingon.”

  “There have been alliances with Klingons before. We used to use their ships, even before we sponsored the Duras family.”

  Varaan was moderately amused by her use of the word “we” in regard to the technology exchange of more than a hundred years earlier. Varaan had been only a child back then, and barely remembered it. He vaguely remembered his father taking him on board one of the stormbirds once, but he hadn’t retained any impression of the ship. Like so much the Klingons made, it was a tool, built for rough handling not to be memorable.