“But why would the Dominion stop the manufacture of starships and weapons?” said Zelk.
“These aren’t their only such facilities,” noted Beld.
“All right,” Zelk said. “But even if the other complexes are still functioning, the question remains essentially the same: why would the Dominion reduce the manufacture of starships?”
Trok thought about that, and could find only one answer. “The Dominion closed its borders after the war with the Federation,” he said. “If there are no aggressors challenging them, then perhaps they have no need at the moment for large-scale starship production.”
“Perhaps,” Beld allowed. “Zelk, I want you to scan inside one of the buildings below. Narrow beam, low intensity. Try not to set off any alarms.”
Zelk’s gloved fingers marched dutifully across his sensor board. Again, Trok waited anxiously, anticipating a sudden Jem’Hadar attack. None came.
“The entire complex is sheathed in a material that’s scrambling my scans,” Zelk said. “But I’m reading a continuous thermal envelope, which you’d expect from external solar radiation. I’m not seeing any signatures to indicate functioning industrial production. But I can’t tell with certainty from the outside.”
Trok understood that if Ren Fejin’s sensors couldn’t penetrate the buildings, then neither could transporters. But he suspected that Beld didn’t intend to beam any of the crew into the complex anyway. A moment later, Beld confirmed that when he moved to the bulkhead, activated the comm system, and contacted the Romulan specialist down in engineering.
“We need to look inside these buildings,” the shipmaster told Joralis Kinn via the ship’s comm system.
“The phasing cloak is fully operational,” replied Kinn. “Proceed with care, and I’ll monitor from down here. I’m tied into the ship’s sensors and navigational display, so there should be no problems.”
“Acknowledged.” Beld closed the comm channel, then stepped back over to the holographic display. Of Trok, he asked, “Any suggestions as to which building we look at first?”
Trok examined the three-dimensional images before him. He knew that, at least for Breen engineers, integrated shipwide systems such as those they sought required testing at full scale. That suggested that any structures that housed the construction of those systems would be large enough to essentially accommodate an entire Jem’Hadar vessel. Trok checked the scale superimposed on the display, then pointed out two buildings that seemed sizable enough for their purposes.
“Dree, take us in,” Beld ordered. “Nice and slow.”
“Yes, Master Beld,” Dree said.
Trok watched the navigational hologram with interest and trepidation. He understood the concept behind the Romulans’ phasing cloak, and Trok supposed he trusted their claims of its successful operation, but the idea of taking the ship through a solid object unnerved him. Then again, just being in Dominion space disturbed him, let alone being beneath the watchful eye of a Jem’Hadar squadron.
One of the two buildings Trok had pointed out grew larger in the display as the ship descended toward it. When Ren Fejin seemed almost on top of its flat roof, the image suddenly blurred. Trok imagined the ship passing through the solid mass, the monitor recording an actual cross section of the matter it penetrated.
Suddenly, the navigational hologram changed dramatically, transforming from a smudge of motion to darkness.
“Full stop,” Beld said.
“Full stop,” said Dree.
“Adjust for low-spectrum infrared,” Beld ordered.
“Adjusting,” Zelk said.
The image shifted, and a large, open space came into view. Trok said the first thing he noticed. “There’s nobody here.”
“No,” Beld agreed. “It does appear that the Dominion has abandoned these facilities, at least for now. Whatever their reason, it will make our task easier to accomplish. Trok, do you see what we need here?”
Trok peered at the holographic display, taking the measure of what he saw. In the center of the space, two massive convex shapes lay on the floor, likely baffle plates of some kind, or possibly hull sections. A pair of channels in the floor cut below them. All around, considerable amounts of other materials sat in heaps, and huge banks of apparatus lined the walls. “I need to examine the supplies and the equipment,” Trok said. “This will take some time.”
“If you require it, Trok,” Beld said, “you can study all of this in person. Since the exteriors of the buildings are closed to scans from without, then the Jem’Hadar ships in orbit will not be able to read life-forms within. While we’re inside the building, we can set you down.”
This time, Beld’s information did not trouble Trok, but rather excited him. They hadn’t anticipated empty facilities on Overne III. Rather, he’d expected to have to make his determination of the Dominion starship-manufacturing equipment visually and via narrow, passive scans. What Beld proposed would allow him a much better chance of locating and confirming what they needed.
“Let me out,” Trok said.
22
Picard sat in the command chair, atop the rear, highest tier of the Enterprise bridge. He peered forward, past Lieutenant Faur at the conn and Glinn Dygan at ops, toward the main viewscreen. There, a great rock of a planet hung in space, mostly colored a grimy brown, but with ebon gashes smeared across its surface. “Science officer, report,” Picard said.
“I’m having a difficult time categorizing the planet, sir,” said Lieutenant Dina Elfiki. She sat along the starboard bulkhead, at the center console configured to host the primary science station. “It doesn’t fit neatly into the standard classification schema.”
The statement didn’t surprise Picard. The dirty globe about which Enterprise orbited didn’t look standard. It seemed somehow alive to Picard, yet it displayed none of the hues normally associated with life-sustaining worlds: blues and greens and whites. “What are its characteristics?” he asked.
“It resembles typical terrestrial planets in many ways,” Elfiki said, her words lightly clipped by her Egyptian accent. “Distance from its star, one-point-zero-seven astronomical units. Diameter, thirteen thousand seven hundred kilometers. Gravity, nine-point-eight-one meters per second squared. I’m reading an iron core … but with a mantle of titanium carbide and silicon carbide, and a crust of—” Elfiki paused, and Picard glanced over to see her peering over her shoulder at the main viewer.
“It’s a carbon planet,” said Spock. He sat immediately to Picard’s left, in the chair customarily reserved for Hegol Den, the ship’s senior counselor. Lieutenant Hegol had graciously offered up his usual seat for the ambassador, while he took one of the ancillary stations along the port side of the bridge.
“I’d say so,” Elfiki agreed. She turned back to her console. “The crust is composed of two allotropes of carbon, primarily graphite, but at its deepest reach, diamond.”
“Diamond?” Picard said.
“Yes,” Elfiki said. “There’s a crystalline shell approximately seventy kilometers beneath the surface, all around the planet.”
“Can that be a natural formation?” Picard wanted to know.
“Yes, absolutely, sir,” said Elfiki. “Planets are ultimately formed from the condensing and coalescing of materials in the protoplanetary disk orbiting a star. As a general occurrence, there is twice as much oxygen as carbon around young stars, which leads to the development of worlds composed primarily of silicon-oxygen compounds. But if there is as much carbon as oxygen surrounding a burgeoning star, then a planet such as the one below can form.”
“Does it have an atmosphere?” asked the ship’s executive officer, Worf, from where he sat to Picard’s right.
“It does, but nothing breathable by our standards,” said Elfiki. “Mostly methane, with a percentage of carbon monoxide.”
“What about the black streaks?” Picard asked.
Elfiki tapped at the controls of her station. “There’s virtually no hydrosphere on the planet, Captain, bu
t the black veins are rivers of a sort, filled with condensed hydrocarbons. They’re essentially flows of oil.” She continued to operate her console, presumably reading through a wealth of sensor readings. “I’m also detecting volcanic activity.”
“I’m assuming there are no life-forms down there,” Picard said.
“No, sir,” confirmed Elfiki. “I see no indications of life.”
Turning to Spock, Picard said, “What do you think, Ambassador? This world does not sound particularly hospitable.”
“No,” the Vulcan said. “But it is intriguing.”
“I agree, sir,” said Elfiki. “Closer examination could definitely add to our knowledge of planetary science.”
“The Romulans are right, then,” Picard said. Together with the Romulan vessel Eletrix, Enterprise had set out a week previously from Deep Space 9. The two vessels had traveled through the Bajoran wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant, and then set a course into unexplored space. Their planned flight path intentionally took them in a direction away from Dominion space, avoided regions already navigated by other Federation ships, and kept out of the Typhon Pact travel lanes.
The crews of Enterprise and Eletrix had begun their joint mission by separately locating and mapping star systems along their route, then sharing the data collected. Both parties had agreed that, should one crew discover something especially noteworthy, something that called for extended scrutiny, they would call in the other crew so that they could study the find cooperatively. That had happened for the first time earlier that day, when Commander T’Jul contacted Captain Picard and informed him about the unusual planet below, the lone terrestrial world orbiting a seemingly ordinary main-sequence star.
“Yes, the Romulans are right,” Elfiki said.
“Do you recommend an away team, Lieutenant?” Worf asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Elfiki. “With the amount of metallic compounds down there, and the need for the use of environmental suits in any direct exploration, I’d suggest taking a shuttle down rather than employing the transporter.”
“Understood,” Picard said. “Lieutenant Choudhury, open a channel to the Eletrix.”
At the freestanding console behind and to the right of Worf, Enterprise’s chief of security acknowledged the order and worked her controls. After just a moment, she said, “I have raised the Eletrix, sir.”
“On-screen,” Picard said. On the main viewer, the brown-and-black orb of the carbon planet winked off, replaced by a view of the Romulan vessel’s bridge. It appeared larger than Enterprise’s own, with wider spaces between its detached consoles and built-in stations, and all of it tinted lightly but distinctly green. The ship’s commanding officer stood at its center, and so Picard rose to his feet as well before addressing her. “Commander T’Jul,” he said. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the Enterprise has arrived at the planet about which you informed us.”
Though still in its early stages, the joint mission had so far unfolded successfully, and exactly as planned. Picard knew that his crew had provided their Romulan counterparts with complete sets of data on each astronomical object they had charted and scanned, and the data they’d received in return appeared to contain no holes. Coordination between the two crews had proceeded smoothly, overseen by Spock and Tomalak, without a single issue arising. As best Picard could tell, and substantiated by Spock, the former proconsul had acted with no trace of his former bellicosity. Or perhaps Tomalak’s time in government has taught him to better camouflage his intentions.
“Captain Picard,” T’Jul said. “Yes, we registered the Enterprise’s approach. Has your scientific team had an opportunity to take any readings of the planet?”
“They have,” Picard said. “They concur with your scientists that it is worth extending our time here and studying it further.”
“Excellent,” T’Jul said. “Shall we discuss requirements for a combined landing party?”
“I leave such matters in the capable hands of my first officer,” Picard said. “I would suggest a meeting between Commander Worf; my senior science officer, Lieutenant Dina Elfiki; Ambassador Spock, of course; and their counterparts from your crew.”
“I oversee landing assignments myself, Captain,” T’Jul said. She spoke as though simply delivering a fact, with no hint of superiority or accusation—a rarity among the numerous high-level Imperial Fleet officers with whom Picard had dealt in his career. “But I will bring my chief science officer, Sublieutenant Selus, as well as our liaison, to such a meeting. May I invite your contingent over to the Eletrix for that purpose?”
“That would be perfectly acceptable, Commander,” Picard said—although for a moment, the idea of Worf interacting with Romulans aboard their own ship almost brought him up short. But the Enterprise captain had been privileged through the years to watch his exec grow—not just as a Starfleet officer, but as a man. Whatever prejudices Worf had once possessed—born out of hard experience—he had come to understand and discard. Picard did not doubt that he would work with the commanding officer and crew of Eletrix with the utmost professionalism. “As soon as our group has assembled in the transporter room, Commander Worf will contact you.”
“Very good, Captain,” T’Jul said, her tone one of conclusion. An instant later, the Romulan commander’s image vanished, and the screen reverted to a view of the carbon planet.
Picard turned to his first officer. “Number One,” he said, “make it so.”
The hatch of the Romulan shuttlecraft Vexia folded outward with a low hum that translated through the deck plating and up into Worf’s environmental suit. He peered out from the open hatchway as the moving section of hull angled down to become a ramp, which led to the rugged, filthy-looking surface of the carbon planet. Enterprise’s sensors had detected no signs of life—not even microscopic life—on the strange world, and scans by the combined away team aboard Vexia had verified those findings. Still, Worf liked to trust his own senses when possible, and he also recognized that the lack of life-forms on the planet did not necessarily mean a lack of danger.
The Vexia pilot, a young Romulan woman named Torlanta, had set the shuttle down at the edge of a vast plain. In the near distance, Worf spied a range of tall, jagged peaks, mountains that looked as though they had been thrust violently up through the ground. Off to the right, even closer, an enormous volcano rose from the terrain and dominated the landscape. One side of its crater had collapsed away from the structure, perhaps blown apart during an eruption. Visible gases spewed forth from several points within the crater, as well as from fumaroles that dotted the surrounding topography.
Worf looked down at himself, at the fitted white shell that enclosed his body and kept him safe from the toxic atmosphere. He reached to a control on the lower sleeve of his environmental suit and activated the audio pickups in his helmet. Behind him, he heard the rustle of other away team members as they prepared to disembark. From outside, only the sound of an empty wind reached him.
Utilizing the communicator built into his helmet, Worf confirmed the readiness of the officers he led. In total, ten members made up the away team, five from Enterprise and an equal number from Eletrix. Worf had been assigned command of the mission, backed up by Lieutenant Torlanta, who had also been given the task of ferrying the crew to and from the planet’s surface. After the meeting aboard the Romulan vessel to plan the expedition, each crew had sent along its senior science officer, a planetary scientist, and a geologist, while Enterprise had also contributed a chemist, and Eletrix an aerologist.
Worf marched down the ramp and stepped cautiously onto the ground. The boots of his environmental suit displaced dark, granulated matter. Beneath the sandy dirt, the land felt solid, but it also seemed to give slightly, dense but perceptibly soft.
Pacing away from the ramp, Worf turned back toward the shuttle. The auxiliary craft, of the same olive green as its parent ship, measured approximately twice the linear dimensions of Enterprise’s largest shuttles. As with so many Romulan craft, Vexia resemb
led a bird, though not one of the raptor-like avians after which the Empire modeled its starships. Rather, its general shape evoked the shape of a songbird, with its short wings and blunt, conical beak. Through the wide, narrow port at the front of the shuttle, Worf could see the figure of Lieutenant Torlanta, still seated at her pilot’s console.
The Enterprise first officer watched as the eight scientists descended to the planet’s surface, all of them carrying various types of handheld equipment. The Starfleet officers wore white environmental suits, while their Imperial counterparts wore deep-blue. At least when the fighting breaks out, I will know who to shoot, Worf thought, amusing himself.
During the planning of the away mission, the issue had arisen of whether or not to arm the participants. Perhaps not surprisingly, none of the scientists from either ship had voiced the need to carry a weapon, while both Commander T’Jul and Worf had argued that nobody should visit an unexplored world without some means of defending themselves. Mission liaisons Spock and Tomalak had ultimately sided with the latter point of view, and so each member of the away team had been supplied with either a Starfleet phaser or a Romulan disruptor. There had been some talk of providing everybody with the same type of weapon to ensure all an equal footing, but doing so would have implied the suspicion of possible trouble between the two crews. Considering that the Khitomer Accords and Typhon Pact leaders—particularly President Bacco and Praetor Kamemor—had pushed for the joint mission specifically to promote better relations among all the Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers, it seemed more in keeping with that philosophy to simply outfit each member of the away team with their own standard gear.
After all of the scientists had alighted, Worf faced them and activated the comm system inside his helmet, knowing that it would carry his voice to the same system in everybody else’s environmental suit. “You have three hours to perform your preliminary field work,” Worf reminded them. “I will contact each of you every half-hour to ensure that you are safe. Report any potential dangers immediately.” Worf asked the members of the away team to acknowledge their orders, and they all did so in a prescribed sequence. He released them to their duties, then contacted Lieutenant Torlanta to have her seal the shuttle.
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Plagues of Night Page 30
