A Time to Harvest

by Dayton Ward

  Crusher in particular was refusing to take a spectator’s seat in the work being performed by the Enterprise’s medical staff. She had spent the time since the shuttlecraft’s departure from the Dokaalan central habitat reviewing reports from Dr. Tropp and Nurse Alyssa Ogawa on all aspects of the triage operation. Picard had at first assumed that the doctor was acting out of some need to assuage some measure of guilt at not being on the ship and leading the effort in person, but he had just as quickly discarded the notion. Even more so than the captain himself, Beverly Crusher was supremely confident in the ability of her medical staff to handle this crisis.

  He could understand her anxiety, of course, just as tensions were almost certainly running high for every member of his crew. The events that had transpired since the Enterprise’s arrival in the Dokaalan system had provided their share of emotional ups and downs, after all. Picard himself had been briefly overcome by a welcome sense of awe and fulfillment brought about by the discovery of how survivors of the planet Dokaal’s destruction and their descendants had labored to eke out an existence in this asteroid field. That joy quickly leaked away, however, when disaster struck one of the Dokaalan’s frail mining outposts. The Enterprise had rushed to offer aid, with the entire crew furiously working to rescue hundreds of the outpost’s survivors. In return, they had received a harsh lesson in the reality of the Dokaalan way of life, including the dangers with which it was fraught.

  And we’re in for another lesson now, the captain thought, one I fear that may be even harder to accept than the first.

  Staring out the shuttlecraft’s forward viewing port, he let his eyes search through the drifting maze of tumbling rock until they detected an object that was most decidedly out of place within the asteroid field. The Enterprise, still nearly a quarter of an hour away at the shuttle’s present speed, had reached the outpost, and survivors were already being evacuated to the starship from the damaged facility. Riker’s reports had given Picard an idea of the mission’s objectives and scope, but the captain knew that the nuances and necessities of the actual operation would be lost upon him until he actually laid eyes on the outpost—or what was left of it. The enormity of the task facing his crew and the likelihood that even their best efforts might prove only fractionally successful weighed heavily on him, and he knew it was a feeling that would only intensify once he stepped back aboard his ship.

  What he really needed to do, he decided, was to use this last leg of the trip to collect himself, and he knew just what would help.

  “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

  Picard straightened in his chair at the sound of the voice uttering those familiar words, momentarily startled that it was not his own. “Beverly?”

  “And a mug of hot chocolate, too,” Crusher added from the rear of the Jefferies’s passenger area. Turning in his seat, Picard watched as the doctor retrieved the pair of beverages from the shuttle’s small replicator before moving toward the cockpit, handing one of the cups to Deanna Troi as she walked past. As she drew closer to him, the captain caught the first scent of the tea’s distinctive aroma, and he nodded in thanks as Crusher offered the cup to him.

  Sipping tentatively from the tea in the hope that it might quell his still-unsettled stomach, Picard asked, “Just what the doctor ordered, I presume?”

  “You looked like you could use a pick-me-up,” Crusher replied as she settled into the copilot’s seat. “How soon until we reach the Enterprise?”

  “Just over ten minutes,” Picard replied, cradling his teacup in his hands. “I take it your staff is up to the challenge once again?”

  Nodding, the doctor replied, “We have a big head start this time, thanks to the medical database we compiled after the first evacuation.” She relaxed into the copilot’s seat, allowing her attention to wander beyond the confines of the Jefferies’s cockpit for a moment before saying anything else. “When we were at their main colony, I tried to scan some of their own databases with my tricorder, but their computer system is a lot slower than ours.” Shaking her head, she added, “Data would be able to create a reliable interface in no time.”

  Data.

  Picard did not relish the thought of going into any technically challenging operation, let alone a deep-space rescue mission, knowing that he would be without the skills of his android second officer. According to Riker’s last report, Data remained inoperative in the Enterprise’s engineering section. The cause of his sudden breakdown remained unknown, a fact that greatly troubled Picard.

  Having been a starship captain for more than forty years, he had never been one to label any one member of his crew as indispensable. Such a mind-set almost always carried the risk of failure at a critical moment should such an individual become unavailable. He had always demanded that his officers cross-train within each other’s fields of expertise, thereby ensuring that anyone could assume another’s duties during times of crisis.

  Despite that philosophy, there was no denying that Lieutenant Commander Data was a unique and irreplaceable member of his crew, to say nothing of being one of his most trusted friends. Picard was gravely concerned that whatever had happened to Data might be a permanent condition, and was even further troubled by his own apparent powerlessness to do anything about it.

  “Oh my God.”

  Blinking in surprise at the words, the captain realized it was Counselor Troi who had uttered them. She had come forward from the shuttlecraft’s passenger area and was now kneeling between the cockpit’s two seats, her expression one of unabashed shock as she stared through the forward viewport.

  “Look at that,” Crusher said as Picard directed his own gaze to what they were seeing. In the distance, still several minutes away, were the mining outpost and the asteroid upon which it had been constructed. The Enterprise was angled perpendicular to the shuttle’s approach perspective, appearing to be standing upright on its warp nacelles. Even from this angle Picard could see that the starship was anchored to the outpost, no doubt having linked up with one of the facility’s external docking ports. The telltale blue glow of the vessel’s tractor beam was also visible, acting as a tether to keep the ship connected to the asteroid. Several shuttlecraft swarmed about the scene, one disappearing into the Enterprise’s main shuttlebay while another emerged and moved away on a course toward the stricken outpost—or what remained of it.

  Tapping the communications panel on the console before him, Picard said, “Shuttlecraft Jefferies to Enterprise. We are on final approach and are requesting docking instructions.”

  It was a moment before the hail was answered, and when it was, Picard noted that the quality of the communications channel was poor even this close to the Enterprise. Static laced the transmission as Will Riker said, “Glad to hear your voice, Captain. As you can probably see, we’ve got a bit of a traffic jam working outside at the moment. We’re using both shuttlebays for the evacuation operation, but as soon as there’s an opening we’ll get you on board, sir.”

  Continuing to survey the scene before them, Picard said, “Understood, Number One. You’re in charge.”

  Crusher leaned forward in her seat, seeming as though she might press her face against the shuttlecraft’s canopy in order to get a better view of the situation. “It looks like they’re more dependent on shuttles to transfer evacuees this time,” she said. “That should keep the flow of incoming casualties manageable, but they’ve got to move quickly.”

  “Judging from the damage to the outpost,” Picard said as he reviewed the cockpit console’s sensor displays, “the shuttles appear to be the best option. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can, Beverly.”

  The rubble and wreckage that was much of what remained of the Dokaalan mining outpost was now clearly visible. At the center of the damage was an immense dark circle, so black that to Picard it looked almost like the maw of some giant predator. A shimmering haze of rock bits and metallic flotsam drifted about the asteroid, debris freed from the outpost and hurled into space by what could only
have been an explosion of immense destructive force.

  “One thing’s certain,” Crusher said, her voice quiet. “We won’t be able to save nearly as many people as we did last time.”

  Picard could not argue that point, not as he studied the scene of destruction before him. The damage was obviously worst at the center of where the explosion had originated, but it was evident that secondary detonations had wreaked havoc on the rest of the facility. How many people had died in the initial moments of the attack? How many more had suffered in darkness and cold when power failed, their section of the outpost cut off as the facility succumbed to the mounting damage inflicted upon it?

  Attacked? Inflicted?

  The words echoed in Picard’s mind as he realized he was beginning to draw conclusions without having any facts to support them. Despite what Hjatyn and Security Minister Nidan had told him, there was no way to be sure that this incident was caused by deliberate sabotage. He would have Lieutenant Vale conduct a proper investigation, he decided, but not until they had done all they could for anyone who could be saved from the wrecked outpost, no matter how long that effort took.

  There will be no rushing for the fast solutions, he silently decreed. Not this time.

  While the first rescue operation ultimately resulted in hundreds of lives being saved, Picard himself remained haunted by one decision he had pursued. When an emergency situation developed, causing twenty-seven people to be thrown into open space, he had gambled on the ability of a hampered transporter system to pull those victims to safety.

  It was a wager he had lost, and despite the helpful discussions he had engaged in with Counselor Troi in the aftermath of that first mission, he knew it was also a decision that would weigh on his conscience for much time to come.

  “Do you think Hjatyn was right?” Troi asked, her words refocusing Picard on the matter at hand. “Could all of this have been intentional?”

  Shaking his head, Picard replied, “It certainly looks too extensive to be the result of some sort of industrial accident.”

  “But why, Jean-Luc?” Crusher asked. “Could it really be someone trying to frighten the people into supporting the terraforming project?”

  It was a question that had been gnawing at Picard since Hjatyn had first broached the subject. According to the elderly leader, the idea of transforming Ijuuka into a planet suitable for sustaining the Dokaalan civilization was one that was not accepted by everyone in the beleaguered community. Many felt that the effort, which had required the development of entirely new technologies and construction concepts, was an unwise use of their already limited resources.

  Some of the more extreme opponents of the bold plan had even gone so far as to accuse the Dokaalan leaders of committing deliberate acts of aggression, such as the reactor explosion on the first mining outpost the Enterprise had visited, in the hope of engendering fear among the fragile colonies and coercing support for the Ijuuka endeavor. No evidence had been provided to support such alarming accusations—at least, not yet—but that did not seem to stop the more zealous challengers of the terraforming concept from shouting their beliefs to all who would listen.

  “Could we be responsible?” Crusher suddenly asked, drawing a surprised look from both Troi and Picard. “I mean, if these are deliberate acts, could they be some sort of response to our arrival?”

  Shaking his head, Picard said, “I don’t see how. Hjatyn himself said that incidents similar to this one had occurred long before we got here, though those had been classified as accidents. If the explosion on the first mining outpost was deliberate, it was done before the Dokaalan knew of our existence.”

  “Maybe we aren’t the cause of these particular incidents,” Troi said, “but I can see where our presence might serve to aggravate the situation, especially if we find a way to help them with their terraforming efforts. Regardless of what conclusions they may reach, they are all faced with the immediate reality that their lives will never be the same.”

  Watching a pair of shuttlecraft rising from the surface of the mining outpost and heading toward the Enterprise’s aft shuttlebay, Picard pondered the words of his two friends. There could be no debating the fact that life for the Dokaalan from this point onward had become impossible to predict thanks to the arrival of the starship. There was simply no way for him or his crew to anticipate what the response might be to that change.

  Hjatyn and his leadership had, to this point at least, rejected any offer to make their terraforming dreams come to fruition with the aid of Federation technology. Despite their decline of Picard’s offer, the captain harbored hope that the Dokaalan might reconsider their stand once they had a glimpse of the possibilities such a technology exchange might offer. It was still possible that they might alter their position and embrace the wonders of a galaxy outside their tiny civilization. Even if they did not, Counselor Troi was right: The Dokaalan people would be forever changed by their encounter with him and his crew.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the shuttle’s communications system blaring to life. “Enterprise to shuttlecraft Jefferies,” said Riker’s static-tinged voice. “We’re ready to receive you in the main shuttlebay, but don’t expect much of a welcoming committee.”

  Activating the com system, Picard said, “Understood, Number One. I’m initiating docking maneuvers now. Jefferies out.” Keying the commands necessary to return the shuttlecraft to his control, he said to his companions, “Regardless of the ramifications, these people have asked for our help and it’s our duty to render that aid. We’ll have plenty of time to wrestle with the fallout later.”

  But if there are those who view us as a threat, he thought as he maneuvered the shuttlecraft into position for docking, how much longer can this grace period last?

  Chapter Four

  “KEEP MOVING!”

  The shouted words echoed inside Geordi La Forge’s helmet, almost drowning out the curses he hissed through gritted teeth at every step he took, each oath condemning the limited mobility offered by his environmental suit.

  While the standard extravehicular work garment might be ideal for working on the exterior of a starship’s hull or for walking around in the poisonous atmosphere of an alien planet, when it came to running for one’s life, the SEWG left a lot to be desired. Sweat ran freely down La Forge’s body, his continued exertion having already overworked the cooling feature of his suit’s comfort controls.

  Glancing over his left shoulder, La Forge saw Faeyahr, the Dokaalan miner who had volunteered to be their tour guide earlier in the day. “How are you doing, Faeyahr?”

  The large Dokaalan nodded through the oversized metal sphere that was the helmet of his own, less-advanced environmental suit. “I am fine, Commander.” The bulky contraption he wore looked to have been pieced together from parts of several other such garments, with a heavy respirator tank carried on the wearer’s back to provide life-support.

  Despite Faeyahr’s reply, La Forge could see through the Dokaalan’s helmet faceplate and noted the strain on the miner’s face. The extended effort of being on the run was beginning to weigh on him, but there was nothing to be done about that now. They had no choice but to keep moving toward a place of concealment.

  Trying not to become hypnotized by the echoes of his own breathing inside his helmet and the muffled sounds of rock continually scraping against the underside of his boots, the chief engineer asked the third member of their party, “How far, Taurik?”

  Slightly behind La Forge and to his right, Lieutenant Taurik replied, “Two hundred point seven meters straight ahead, Commander.” The Vulcan was running with his tricorder in one hand, his left arm held out away from his body in an attempt to keep his balance as he hobbled and jumped over the asteroid’s broken terrain. “I still do not see our pursuers, but you can be sure they are coming.”

  “I’m not betting against it,” La Forge said as he kept his attention focused on the ground in front of him, watching for holes, cracks, or other potential dangers
to his footing as he ran. Even in the asteroid’s low gravity and through the insulation of his suit’s boots, he felt the scarred and pitted face of the unyielding rock, drifting free and exposed to the hazards of open space for uncounted millennia. It almost reminded him of the vast coral reefs lining the beaches of one of Risa’s more isolated resorts in that planet’s southern hemisphere. The reefs were exposed during low tide there and he had spent several afternoons during one memorable shore leave bounding across them in order to reach the deeper water.

  What I wouldn’t give to be there right now.

  The day had started out simply enough, with La Forge and Taurik being taken on a guided inspection tour of the Dokaalan’s extensive terraforming operation. The Enterprise engineers, accompanied by Faeyahr, had traveled to Ijuuka, the onetime planetary neighbor of Dokaal, to get a firsthand look at the network of massive processing stations erected at carefully selected points all over that inhospitable world. Already in place and operational for decades, the factories had been working steadfastly to convert the planet’s poisonous atmosphere into one capable of sustaining life, a task that would continue for years to come. The result of the momentous project would allow the Dokaalan to leave their makeshift homes in the asteroid field and live on the surface of a real planet, an experience many of the colonists had never before enjoyed.

  Ahead of him, La Forge saw what had to be the area that Taurik thought might provide them with some protection. From more than one hundred meters away, to the chief engineer it looked like nothing more than a crack in the side of a rolling hill rising up from the surface of the asteroid. “Is that it?” he said, pointing to it.

  “Yes, sir,” Taurik replied. “According to my scans, it is a fissure that extends below the surface of the asteroid. It is three point one meters high and two point six meters wide at the opening, but begins to contract at a point below ground.”