Distant Early Warning

by Dayton Ward

  Diamond was forced to admit that the commander had a point. Most of the Lovell’s staff of engineering specialists currently was assisting station personnel to complete the plethora of tasks still remaining before Starbase 47 could be deemed “fully operational,” as well as helping to identify and resolve the rash of heretofore unexplained problems with various onboard systems. Those few members of the ship’s complement who were not otherwise engaged had been granted shore leave by Captain Okagawa. While Commander zh’Rhun was receiving regular reports from the ship’s department heads via her communicator, Jessica Diamond found herself in the unusual position of having nothing “important” to do at the moment.

  Okay, okay, she mused. I’ll take the hint.

  The Arcturian bartender placed atop the bar two squat glasses with thick bases and each filled with what Diamond saw was an almost luminescent yellow liquid. Taking one of the glasses, zh’Rhun turned and offered the other to her.

  “What is it?” Diamond asked, her brow furrowing as she took the proffered drink.

  “It’s called gredlahr,” the commander replied, “from Andor. Similar to rum, though sweeter.” Waggling her eyebrows as her antennae moved to point toward Diamond, she smiled again. “You’ll love—”

  The sentence was cut off as zh’Rhun stood almost ramrod straight, and Diamond watched her expression morph from shock to puzzlement to annoyance within the space of only a few heartbeats. A scowl crossed her features and she turned to glare behind her at the group of four human males, all of whom seemed to be making a point of not looking at zh’Rhun. Only the man standing nearest to her—big, bald, and with an imposing physique highlighted by the material of the dark shirt stretching across his broad chest—cocked his head in her direction and offered a sly smile.

  “Did he just grab your—?” Diamond began.

  “Yes,” zh’Rhun replied, her expression stern as the commander turned back to face her. “Yes, he did.” Shaking her head, she placed her glass back on the bar. “Watch that for me.”

  You have got to be kidding me. The thought screamed in Diamond’s mind as zh’Rhun spun on her heel, turned, and grabbed the bald man’s right arm. Diamond had only an instant to register his look of surprise before the commander twisted his arm up and behind his back, pulling him around and slamming him face-first into the bar. He emitted a single low grunt of pain before sagging like a limp doll and falling to the floor at her feet.

  The effect was immediate. Nearby conversations ceased and dozens of patrons turned to regard the disturbance in their midst. Despite that, Diamond still heard the sounds of gaming and partying taking place elsewhere in the parlor, the majority of the gambling deck’s clientele blissfully unaware of the happenings at the bar.

  “Uh-oh,” she whispered, setting her own drink down on the bar and stepping away from the press of people, suddenly wishing she were carrying a phaser as the rest of the bald man’s party—recovering from the shock of zh’Rhun’s sudden and effective attack on their friend—turned to face the Andorian with matching looks of growing menace that did not quite hide the obvious effects of intoxication reddening their eyes.

  “Not smart, Starfleet,” said one of the men, his words slurred and the corners of his mouth curled into a snarl that was almost concealed beneath his thick beard.

  Stepping away from the bar to give herself some room, zh’Rhun affected a dismissive shrug. “Your friend should watch where he puts his hands.”

  Diamond noted that two of the men wore dark green coveralls with the insignia of a civilian freight service contracted to deliver supplies to the different colonies that were being established throughout the Taurus Reach.

  Wonderful, she thought. Probably their first night back after a long haul. After who knew how many weeks at low warp, the men had arrived at the station with money to spend and energy to burn. Combined with the alcohol they had no doubt already consumed, it was a recipe for trouble.

  The man who had spoken to zh’Rhun moved forward, his hands low and away from his body and his intent evident. He managed only two steps before the commander reacted, lunging forward and closing the gap even before the man could bring his hands up. Lashing out, she struck his chin with the palm of her right hand. The man’s head snapped up and he staggered backward a few steps, one hand moving to cradle his wounded jaw. The other two men stepped forward, and Diamond’s eyes darted to each of their hands, checking for any sign of a weapon.

  For her part, zh’Rhun seemed disinterested in that notion one way or another as she turned to face the new threats, the two remaining men separating in an attempt to flank her with the obvious intent of ganging up on the Andorian. It was obvious that awareness of their surroundings had been as dulled by intoxication as their reflexes, given that the movements of one man brought him almost alongside Diamond.

  Idiot, she mused in the instant before the man tried to make his move. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, and Diamond imagined she detected comprehension finally coalescing in his alcohol-dulled mind. Reading his body language, she saw him tense and decided she had no choice even as the man raised an arm in a pitifully slow attempt to lash out at her. Diamond intercepted the arm with no effort, twisting it down and away from her and pulling the man off balance. He crashed to the floor in a disjointed heap, leaving her to look up in time to see zh’Rhun still facing off with the remaining man, who was looking for his opening.

  “That’s enough.”

  The words, though spoken in a conversational tone, seemed to carry forth across the gambling deck and draw the simultaneous attention of everyone standing within earshot. Diamond turned to see the crowd behind her part to reveal a hulking, bald Orion male dressed in what looked to be a maroon toga. An array of gold piercings decorated both of his ears as well as the right side of his nose. His thick brow was furrowed in obvious irritation as he took in the scene.

  Flanking him was another Orion male—this one of much slimmer build—and a Nalori. While the Orion was dressed in simple woven trousers and shirt and looked every bit the part of a muscled enforcer, the Nalori sported a precisely tailored dark suit and matching shoes that reflected the parlor’s low lighting even better than his shiny black skin or the bottomless pools that served as his eyes.

  Just looking at him made the hairs on the back of Diamond’s neck stand up.

  Pointing toward the man still facing off against zh’Rhun, the large Orion said, “Jaeq, Zett, show these gentlemen the door.” As the other Orion moved to carry out his instructions, his boss added, “Make sure they’ve paid their tab first.” The near-deadpan delivery almost made Diamond laugh.

  She moved to stand beside zh’Rhun as the Orion’s two henchmen set about gathering up the wayward quartet of drunken or unconscious freight haulers, both women turning to face their unexpected benefactor. “Thank you,” Diamond offered.

  “Sorry about the fight,” zh’Rhun added. “It wasn’t our intention to cause trouble.”

  The Orion bowed his head, his expression relaxing only the slightest bit. “It is I who should apologize. I don’t normally tolerate that sort of conduct aboard my ship.”

  “Your ship?” Diamond blurted. “You’re the captain?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” the Orion replied. “My name is Ganz, and I’m the proprietor of the Omari-Ekon as well as this gaming establishment.”

  Along with your role in weapons trafficking, Diamond thought, assorted smuggling, and slave trading, and prostitution, and who knows what else. While she was not familiar with Ganz’s dossier, if he owned this ship, it was probable he had his hand in a variety of illicit interests. Those freight runners might just be heading for the nearest airlock.

  “We don’t typically have fights in here,” Ganz continued. “My staff is usually on top of such matters before they can escalate. Unfortunately, not all of my customers are fans of Starfleet.”

  “An odd attitude to take,” zh’Rhun said, “considering they’re docking at this station
and making use of Starfleet facilities.”

  Ganz shrugged. “Irony comes in many forms, Commander.”

  As he spoke the words, the lights throughout the gambling deck flickered, and Diamond even heard a skip in the music being piped through the room’s sound system. It was momentary, but still enough to make several of the patrons look around in confusion and cause Ganz’s brow to furrow even deeper.

  He turned to his Orion companion. “Jaeq, tell the engineers that I’m getting tired of these problems. If they can’t figure out what’s causing them and fix it…” He let his voice trail off as he regarded Diamond and zh’Rhun, as though considering what he was about to say for the benefit of his current audience. “Tell them to fix it, or I’ll be unhappy. Are we clear?”

  Jaeq nodded. “Understood, Mr. Ganz,” he answered before turning and heading off to deliver the message.

  They’re having tech problems too? Diamond mulled that. Interesting. Were the Orion merchant’s issues related to whatever was affecting the station’s systems? She would have to inform Lieutenant al-Khaled and see what he thought about that.

  Returning his attention to the Starfleet officers, Ganz took a deep breath before nodding in their direction. “Now, as I was about to say, ladies, you might wish to consider seeking entertainment elsewhere.”

  “You’re kicking us out?” Diamond asked, feeling her features tighten into a scowl. “The only thing we did was try to buy drinks.”

  “Remain as long as you wish,” Ganz replied. “Your drinks—and anything else you might want for the remainder of your stay—are complimentary.” He paused, giving Diamond a frank visual inspection from head to feet. “Despite my policies, however, I can’t guarantee that another of the patrons might not…misplace his hands.”

  Stepping forward, zh’Rhun said, “We can handle that.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Ganz said, smiling for the first time. “Suit yourself. Inform my staff if you need anything. Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.” With that, the enormous Orion turned and walked away, the gaggle of onlookers once again parting to facilitate his sojourn deeper into the gaming parlor.

  As the crowd returned to normal and the festive atmosphere resumed on the gambling deck, Diamond could not resist offering a playful smile to zh’Rhun as both women reached for their drinks, which still sat atop the bar.

  “You’re right, Commander,” she said as she sipped her gredlahr. “This is fun.”

  Chapter

  4

  After just a few hours aboard Starbase 47, Lieutenant Isaiah Farber had come to a single conclusion: The station was, in a word, incredible.

  He had taken in as much of the starbase’s numerous aesthetic features as his duties had allowed, typically while passing from one problematic point to another either via the network of turbolifts or the tram tube that skirted the periphery of Vanguard’s massive primary hull. The tram in particular offered the young engineer captivating views of the station’s terrestrial enclosure—an unhindered panorama stretching more than eight hundred meters—complete with rolling hills, a pond, and even a small forested area. Across the enclosure, the view was dominated by the “skyline” of Stars Landing, the station’s high-rise complex of civilian residences and support facilities, which Farber had been told were worth visiting if for nothing else than for the collection of restaurants offering cuisines from across the Federation.

  Despite all of that, it was not until he got his first look at the main control center for the station’s primary sensor array that Farber could admit to being truly impressed.

  “Now we’re talking my language,” he said as he stepped from the turbolift into the room. Located near the bottom of the station’s long, cylindrical secondary hull, the control center sat immediately atop the oversized multispectrum sensor array and was awash in activity. Technicians moved among the thirty workstations ringing the chamber’s perimeter, each console sporting multiple computer interface terminals and situational display monitors. The chamber reminded Farber of the upper deck of a starship’s bridge, complete with a circle of red railing at the room’s center. Inside the railing, secured by a series of force-field emitters, hung a massive duranium support arm for the rotating antenna dish, which extended beyond the deck beneath their feet from the bottom of the station’s hull.

  Taking in the scene and relishing every detail, Farber nodded in satisfaction. “This place is amazing!”

  “This place is a wreck,” said a voice from behind him, “and it’ll stay that way if we spend all day standing in the turbolift.”

  Realizing he had stopped on the lift’s threshold, Farber turned and offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Ghrex.” He stepped aside, allowing his Denobulan shipmate passage into the control room. Like him, the ensign was dressed in normal Starfleet gold tunic and black trousers and carried a standard-issue engineer’s tool satchel slung over her shoulder.

  Walking farther into the room, Farber could hear several conversations echoing through the room at once, all accompanied by a steady stream of computer tones and indicators. He could only imagine the sheer amounts of data that would be processed by this control center and channeled to the station’s computer core when the sensor array was functioning at top capacity.

  Of course, right now it was operating far below that level, which was why he and Ghrex were here. Sent here by Lieutenants al-Khaled and Ballard, the engineers were tasked with assisting in the diagnostics on the sensor array as well as figuring out a means of realignment that would not be compromised inside of a day, as had been the case at irregular intervals since the array first had come online. There was no undervaluing the necessity of functioning sensors, situated as the station was far outside Federation territory and on the doorsteps of both the Klingon Empire and the Tholian Assembly.

  “As I understand it,” Ghrex said as she followed after him, “both the long-range sensors and the lateral arrays are malfunctioning.”

  Farber nodded. According to Ballard’s situation report, given to him by al-Khaled during their hasty, succinct briefing, both systems had failed within moments of one another, and with no apparent crossover feedback. It was not a case of cascading failures, with one malfunction overburdening and finally overcoming subordinate systems.

  “Ballard and his people already ruled out malfunctions in the station’s power and data network that might be overloading the array,” he said, “along with negative effects from ambient radiation or some other stellar phenomenon in this part of space. So, basically, that narrows it down to—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—something inside the station, or something outside the station.”

  Frowning, Ghrex hitched her tool satchel up higher onto her shoulder. “Sounds like a simple enough problem to solve.”

  Farber regarded her with a smirk. “It was a joke, Ensign. Just trying to get a smile out of you.”

  “You’re like my second husband’s third wife,” the Denobulan replied, shaking her head. “Just because we’re facing a complex problem to solve doesn’t require you to boost my spirits. I’m typically a very upbeat and positive person, after all.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Farber said, trying not to laugh. “I never thought otherwise, not for a second.”

  Turning away from Ghrex, he looked about the room until his eyes caught sight of the officer who he guessed was in charge here in the control center, an uncharacteristically slender Tellarite male dressed in a blue tunic sporting lieutenant commander’s insignia.

  “Briv,” the commander said by way of introduction, the single word coming out almost as a belch rather than actual speech. “You’ve arrived just in time, it seems.”

  “We’re here to help, sir,” Farber replied. “Where do you want us?”

  Offering a terse nod, Briv said, “I’ve ordered a new set of diagnostics on the array, but I doubt they’ll be any more helpful in finding a cause than the previous half-dozen tests we’ve run. The rest of our time has been spent making manual recalibratio
ns and adjustments.” He shook his head, and Farber read his expression of disgust. “You never realize how much you rely on automation until it’s not available.”

  Farber grinned. “The story of our lives, Commander.”

  Standing beside him, Ghrex said, “I have an idea, sir. I’d like to take a look at the previous sets of diagnostics results. If the problem is internal, I might find a pattern to the malfunctions that I can trace back to a source.”

  “I’ve already had people do that,” Briv replied, “but a fresh perspective might just be what’s in order.” He indicated an empty console. “You can work at that station.”

  Farber nodded. “Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, I can run a scan of the main data hubs and routers leading from here and feeding the primary data network. If there’s a breach or some other form of defect, it could go all but undetected in the kilometers of wiring and circuitry filling the innards of this station.” Looking around, he asked, “The schematics showed service lifts accessing the data network conduits?”

  Briv shook his head. “Engineering service turbolifts are offline for safety reasons until we get the problems resolved.” He pointed over Farber’s shoulder. “We have Jefferies tubes that will get you there, though.” His gruff expression morphing into a mischievous grin, he added, “They should be big enough for you to fit.”

  Wonderful.

  Crawling around the access conduits aboard a starship—even one as small as the Lovell—was one thing. Doing the same aboard a Watchtower-class space station would be something else entirely.

  Guess I won’t need the gym today, he mused as he made a quick check to see that his tool satchel’s flap was secure. Or tomorrow, for that matter.