A Time to Harvest

by Dayton Ward

  “Sounds like a tight fit,” La Forge translated. Using his ocular implants, he increased the magnification of the image the artificial eyes were feeding his brain, viewing the fissure in more detail than human eyes could ever allow. It did indeed look to be a confined space, but would it still be large enough to accommodate the three of them as well as their bulky suits?

  Then he remembered Faeyahr’s more primitive excursion suit. Unlike the engineers’ suits and their built-in atmospheric regeneration systems, Faeyahr would have only the contents of the tank to sustain him out here. “Faeyahr,” La Forge said, “how much air do you have left?”

  Looking down at the gauge set into his suit’s left forearm, the Dokaalan replied, “At this rate of consumption, perhaps another hour, Commander.”

  The options available to the away team, limited to begin with, were now rapidly dwindling. Even if they could avoid capture, or worse, at the hands of their pursuers, would Faeyahr’s suit hold out long enough for the Enterprise to find them?

  Not with the luck we’ve been having.

  At the second terraforming station they had visited, Taurik had detected anomalies in the software used to oversee the atmospheric processing machinery’s operation. The differences were subtle but definitely deviations from the normal operating parameters in use at the other facilities on Ijuuka.

  While that itself had been enough to give La Forge pause, it was Taurik’s later discovery of a small, isolated device attached to one of the storage tanks used by the processing plant to introduce carefully blended chemical compounds into the planet’s atmosphere. The device had an outer casing composed of rodinium, an element not found in this region of space. An alien party had obviously constructed it.

  Who those people were or why they had performed such an action remained a mystery, but the away team’s discovery that something odd was taking place in the processing facility was enough to worry someone, and that someone had sent out search parties to either capture or eliminate the Enterprise engineers before they could return to their ship and report their findings.

  La Forge, Taurik, and Faeyahr had managed to escape the planet in their shuttlecraft, but were unable to avoid being chased by a group of five Dokaalan mining skiffs. Smaller and more maneuverable among the asteroids than the shuttle and operated by pilots more familiar with the hazards of navigating an asteroid field than either Enterprise officer, the skiffs had taken little time to overtake their quarry. Unable to shake their pursuers, La Forge had opted for a radical tactic and executed his version of the Kolvoord Starburst, releasing and igniting some of the shuttle’s drive plasma when one of the chasing ships got close.

  The maneuver had damaged at least one of the skiffs and given the others reason to back off their pursuit, but it had also cost La Forge control of the shuttlecraft and sent it on a collision course with a mammoth asteroid. Both he and Taurik had fought the sluggish craft’s maneuvering systems all the way down, managing to wrestle just enough control to keep their landing from being a fatal one. That all three of them had been able to walk away from the crash was nothing short of a miracle, La Forge decided.

  For what that’s worth, he amended silently as he took stock of their bleak surroundings yet again.

  Continuing to run, the engineer was beginning to feel a steady ache in his chest and the protests of his legs, shoulders, and back, all of this accompanied by the sounds of his increasingly labored breathing. The prolonged exertion was beginning to take its toll on him, as well. In contrast, Taurik had sounded just as he would if providing a routine status report in main engineering. It would be nice, La Forge decided, to have some of that renowned Vulcan stamina right about now.

  “Commander!” Taurik called out, and La Forge instinctively stopped, taking an extra few steps in the reduced gravity to bring his momentum under control. He turned to see the junior engineer standing motionless as well, facing away from him and holding his tricorder up so he could see its display through his helmet’s protective faceplate. “I’m picking up the approach of three small vessels. They appear to be engaged in search operations rather than on an intercept course.”

  “They must not have seen our landing,” Faeyahr offered, his words coming between ragged breaths as he gulped air, nearly exhausted from the prolonged running.

  Looking back the way they had come, La Forge saw their crash site several hundred meters away and, far beyond that, a trio of small specks moving against the black of space. Flying low over the asteroid’s surface, they were moving at an almost leisurely pace, but it was obvious they were heading in this direction. Still, it would be only seconds before someone in one of the skiffs saw the remains of the shuttlecraft Ballard highlighted against the asteroid’s dark, rocky terrain.

  Hide! His mind screamed the word at him. Now! They could not stay out here in the open like this. La Forge turned to examine their surroundings, looking for anything that could serve as a place of concealment. The only thing that appeared remotely promising was a depression to his right, less than two meters deep and barely qualifying as a ditch or hole.

  “Good enough,” he muttered aloud as he moved closer to the depression. “Come on!” he called out to the others, waiting until Taurik and Faeyahr joined him. The trio lowered themselves as far as they could go into the shallow hole. From ground level he was sure they were invisible, but what about from above?

  Peering out over the edge of the hole’s rocky parapet, La Forge risked a look back toward the shuttlecraft crash site. The three skiffs were hovering over the wrecked vessel, their pilots no doubt communicating among themselves. Were they discussing whether anyone on board the shuttle could have survived the impact?

  He had his answer when the three ships broke away from the crash site and moved off in different directions. Now flying only meters above the asteroid’s surface, there was no mistaking their intentions.

  “They’re fanning out to look for us,” La Forge said as he watched one of the skiffs turning to head in their general direction.

  His hand automatically reached for the ancient Starfleet first-generation phase pistol he had tucked into the large cargo pocket on his suit’s right leg. The pistol was one of two such weapons he and Taurik had liberated from a pair of security officers who had attempted to take them into custody at the processing plant on Ijuuka. How the Dokaalan had come to possess the pistols, or the Klingon disruptors and other advanced weaponry that Taurik had detected as belonging to other races, was yet another in a growing list of questions requiring answers.

  Would the weapon he had acquired even work out here, bombarded by the peculiar radiation that had affected a multitude of systems aboard the Enterprise such as phasers, tractor beams, and even the transporter? He had no idea, and there was no way to test the phase pistol without giving away their position.

  Not that it matters, he thought, remembering the phase pistol’s ineffectiveness when he had fired it at a pursuing Dokaalan security officer back on Ijuuka. Still, he knew he would get a second opportunity with the weapon soon enough, sighing in resignation as he watched the mining skiff moving closer. Though the craft still was not on a direct course for their location, its large cockpit window would afford the pilot a wide view of the surrounding landscape. Even if he did not see any signs of life on the surface, if the Dokaalan at the controls of the craft was any kind of tactician he would soon see the depression currently occupied by the away team and investigate it as a potential hiding place.

  The skiff turned to face in their direction.

  “Damn,” La Forge hissed through gritted teeth, freezing in place as the tiny craft angled toward him. There was still a possibility that the pilot had not yet seen any movement or other indications of the away team’s presence, but the chief engineer realized that as nothing more than wishful thinking as the skiff moved to within twenty meters. Its nose dipped toward the asteroid’s surface, allowing the Dokaalan seated inside the ship’s cockpit an unfettered examination of the rocky ground b
elow him.

  Even from twenty meters away, the pilot locked eyes with La Forge.

  And he smiled.

  “He’s got us!” La Forge shouted, no longer making any effort to remain hidden as the skiff accelerated toward them. Bringing the phase pistol up, he moved the weapon’s selector switch to Kill, its maximum power setting, sighted along the pistol’s short barrel, and fired. Orange energy lanced forward to strike the diminutive workship on the metal plating just below its cockpit. La Forge saw the small craft shudder from the impact of the attack and observed the dark scar inflicted by the phase pistol’s beam and he fired again. This time the skiff banked to its right, moving off to take up a hovering stance nearly one hundred meters from the away team’s position, presumably what the craft’s pilot guessed to be a safe distance from small-arms fire.

  “That answers that,” he said as he inspected his weapon’s energy level, observing that it still retained nearly three-quarters of its power cell’s charge. “Somebody’s modified these things to work even with the radiation.” When they returned to the Enterprise, La Forge was sure he would be able to disassemble the phase pistol and figure out what had been done to it that allowed its operation despite the constant interference from the asteroid field’s omnipresent background radiation. He should then be able to use that information to modify the ship’s own weapons.

  If we get back, he amended silently.

  “Commander,” Taurik called out, holding up his tricorder. “The other two ships are heading in this direction. Obviously the pilot of the first ship alerted his friends to our location.”

  “Sure,” La Forge replied. “Now that they’ve got us they can hem us in.” Craning his neck, he looked for signs of the other two skiffs but saw nothing. He knew they would be adjusting their respective approaches so as to come in from different angles and catch the away team on three different sides, cutting off possible lines of retreat. If he and his companions did not move now, they would be trapped out here in the open and at the mercy of their pursuers.

  “We need to get to the fissure before his companions arrive,” Faeyahr said. He pointed to La Forge’s left, and the chief engineer saw the opening in the side of the rise beckoning to them. With his ocular implants, La Forge computed the distance to be just more than fifty-two meters between their current location and the relative safety of the small crevice, a long way to travel over uneven, exposed terrain.

  “I think you’re right,” La Forge said. “Okay, let’s move.” Pushing off from the bottom of the depression, he allowed his body to sail free of the low-lying area in the reduced gravity. His feet had not yet touched the rough, broken rock before he started off at a run once more, trying to keep an eye on the ground ahead of him and the lone skiff that had moved to a supposedly safe distance.

  La Forge did not think he could hit the small craft with his first shot while on the move, but he aimed the weapon in that direction anyway. If nothing else, the action might make the pilot think twice before trying to come any closer. He was not surprised when the tactic did not work, and the skiff began to head toward them once again.

  It was Taurik who fired this time, waiting until the skiff moved close enough that its Dokaalan pilot was clearly visible through the cockpit canopy before directing his own phase pistol at the onrushing ship. The weapon struck the craft’s underbelly and the Vulcan kept his finger depressed on the pistol’s firing stud, continuing to deliver the intense energy beam to the skiff’s underside even as it flew past them.

  “Nice shooting,” La Forge offered as something exploded on the small ship’s belly and it began to wobble wildly under the force of the impact, its pilot obviously struggling to maintain control. “Looks like you got something sensitive hitting it underneath like that.”

  “It would appear so,” Taurik replied. Both engineers and Faeyahr watched as the skiff maneuvered toward a touchdown several hundred meters away, landing heavily but not badly and sending rock debris hurling upward into the airless void.

  “Now’s our chance!” La Forge shouted, picking up his pace. “We can make it if we hurry. Let’s go!”

  Any hope of escape was dashed, however, as the other two skiffs appeared from behind the rise, flying side by side mere meters above the asteroid’s surface and heading straight for the away team. With nowhere to go, the engineers and Faeyahr stopped running as the two craft settled to the ground between them and their goal. A moment later, a hatch opened on the side of each skiff and the pilots emerged, dressed in environmental suits similar to Faeyahr’s and carrying what to La Forge appeared to be some type of disruptor rifles.

  “Those are pulse weapons,” Faeyahr said in a quiet voice, “used by our Security Ministry only in the most extreme of situations. They are quite lethal.”

  As the Dokaalan drew closer, La Forge saw them raise their rifle barrels to aim them at the away team. “Starfleet officers,” a voice sounded in La Forge’s helmet. “Drop your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

  “Do not listen to them!” Faeyahr shouted. “You saw how the others acted at the processing station.”

  “If they are lying,” Taurik said, “we will be defenseless if we surrender our weapons.”

  La Forge countered, “If they’d wanted to kill us, they’d have done it by now.”

  “I am obliged to point out that it is still a distinct possibility, Commander.”

  The Dokaalan had closed the distance separating them, the muzzles of their weapons looking like two giant maws to La Forge. “I will ask you once more,” the man on the engineer’s right said, “drop your weapons.”

  Casting a last look at Taurik, La Forge let the phase pistol drop from his hand, the weapon falling slowly to the ground. The Vulcan followed suit, after which they both turned their attention back to their captors.

  “What is it you want?” La Forge asked. The faceplates of both Dokaalan’s helmets were tinted in such a manner that he was unable to get a clear look at their faces, a fact that unnerved him.

  “You must come with us,” the Dokaalan responded. “Minister Nidan has an urgent need to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  Stepping forward, Faeyahr said, “That is what your companions said at the processing facility. You cannot simply abduct these people without notifying their commanding officer. They are our friends, after all.”

  Without saying another word, the Dokaalan who had spoken angled his rifle barrel so that it aimed directly at Faeyahr’s chest and fired. An angry blue ball of energy flashed from the weapon and slammed into Faeyahr, driving him back several meters in the reduced gravity before he crumpled to the ground.

  “No!” La Forge cried as he and Taurik bounded to where their friend had landed. Turning Faeyahr onto his back, he saw the massive scorched hole in his chest. The fixed expression on the Dokaalan’s face left no doubt that he was dead.

  “Why did you do that?” he said to Faeyahr’s killer, each word laced with anger. “You murdered him for no reason!”

  Now aiming his weapon at La Forge, the Dokaalan said, “He was of no further use to us. You are, but we will kill you if you attempt to resist any further.”

  Raising his hands in surrender as their captors stepped forward, La Forge cast a worried look to Taurik, who returned the gaze with his own typically Vulcan stoic expression.

  Chapter Five

  ALARMS, CALLS FOR HELP, and the sounds of people in pain echoed throughout the cargo bay, but Beverly Crusher ignored all of it.

  As it had been with four previous patients with equally severe injuries, her attention was focused on the unconscious female Dokaalan before her. The woman’s pale blue skin was mottled with white patches from the extreme frostbite she had endured. Like so many others, she had been subjected to the vacuum of space when an emergency hatch had failed inside the mining outpost. While she had survived the exposure, the freezing temperatures had taken their toll on nearly all of the patients now being treated in cargo bay four.

  Crusher’
s hands moved with the assurance of hard-won experience, administering drugs or manipulating a piece of medical equipment, her every movement tracked by the increasingly frequent sounding of emergency alarms on her patient’s diagnostic bed.

  She was competing in a race she knew she could not win, but neither could she quit.

  Fight, dammit. Fight!

  Her plea went unanswered, however, as the Dokaalan woman drew a final ragged breath and a shiver racked her frail body before she became still. Warning tones on the diagnostic bed confirmed what Crusher’s eyes had already told her, and she reached up to the monitor panel to silence the alarm.

  Her patient was dead.

  Crusher gripped the side of the bed and took a self-steadying deep breath before looking up to Susan Lomax, the young nurse who had been assisting her. “Susan, please move her to…” She could not bring herself to say “black area,” the section of cargo bay four that had been designated for patients the Enterprise medical staff were unable to save.

  Lomax nodded in understanding. “I’ll take care of it, Doctor,” she said as she drew a sheet over the now still form of the Dokaalan woman.

  Releasing a frustrated sigh, Crusher said, “Their bodies just aren’t strong enough to handle the extreme cold brought on by decompression. I wish there were more we could do.”

  She turned from the diagnostic bed to survey the scene around her. The cargo bay was serving its second turn as a makeshift hospital since the Enterprise’s arrival here. However, whereas the bay had been the scene of great success during that first rescue operation, things were turning out quite differently this time around. The explosion that had all but destroyed Mining Station Twelve had done most of its dastardly work before the starship had even arrived. Crusher and her medical staff had been denied the chance to help the overwhelming majority of the nearly eight hundred colonists living on the outpost, and had instead been left with treating a small fraction of fortunate survivors.