Collective Hindsight Book 1

by Aaron Rosenberg

  “You are partially correct,” the Vulcan finally stated. “The outpost would not have been damaged by the energy’s release. But that was not the true danger.” He tapped a command onto the control console, and the viewscreen’s image changed to show the area behind the ship instead—more rocks of various sizes, overshadowed by the system’s massive sun. “That was the real concern.” Salek typed in more commands, and beneath the sun an energy output graph appeared—even as they watched, the levels fluctuated wildly. “Captain Gold described the sun as ‘bloated’ earlier. He was correct. This sun is unstable, and most likely in the first stages of collapse. A release of energy such as this ship possesses could easily have hastened that process and caused the sun to go nova. Everything in this system would have been destroyed, including both the ship and the outpost. The crew knew this, and recognized that they would be dead either way. By internalizing the energy, they minimized the destruction, killing themselves but protecting their surroundings and sparing the people on the outpost.”

  Duffy considered that. It made sense. Once the ship had stopped here, the crew was as good as dead, and it was just a question of going out alone or taking the rest of the Randall system with them. They’d opted for the former, just as a Starfleet vessel would. Whoever they’d been, the people on this ship had shown a comparable respect for other life.

  “We have more information now,” 111 mentioned—she and 110 had continued speaking with the computer while the others had conversed, though Duffy knew they were also paying attention to the conversation. “The systems are rebooting as we speak. Apparently the—”

  “—energy discharge knocked the computers offline, but—”

  “—did no lasting damage. We have located—”

  “—the command log, and can verify that—”

  “—the captain disengaged the safety mechanisms and—”

  “—vented the energy internally on purpose.”

  Stevens nodded. “So they saw the outpost, recognized what it was, realized the danger, and acted accordingly.”

  Salek looked pleased, almost a little smug, and Duffy didn’t blame him. He’d been right about the ship’s crew being killed by their own power supply.

  “Now that we have solved that question,” the commander announced, “we may proceed to the next matter. Duffy, Blue, examine the engine room more carefully. This ship is far too large for the da Vinci to tow, and it must be moved under its own power. I will expect a report on the engine’s current condition, and on estimated time to restore it to operation. Stevens”—Salek seemed to straighten up slightly, if that was possible—“you and I will dispose of the crew.”

  “Dispose of them?”

  “Correct.” Salek glanced down at the figure in the command chair. “These people gave their lives to protect others. Despite the fact that we do not recognize their race, and thus cannot thank them properly, we will respect their integrity and courage. It is unfitting to leave them in such a condition. You and I will use our phasers to reduce the bodies to ash, which can then be released into space. It is a fitting end for noble starfarers.”

  Duffy was a bit surprised to hear his commander express such sentiments, but then reminded himself that Salek was not as rigid as most Vulcans. Sometimes he seemed almost human—though Duffy would never presume to mention that. Instead he sighed and levered himself off his perch. “Okay, Pattie,” he told his Nasat teammate, “let’s get to work.”

  “This material has me stumped,” Duffy admitted an hour later. He and Pattie were in the engine room, examining every element both visually and with their tricorders. “It looks like oil, really, especially with that surface sheen. The chemical composition seems similar to oil, too, though not identical. But what I don’t get is why it doesn’t move at all. It’s almost like an oil that’s been solidified.”

  “How about fused?” Pattie suggested, checking her own tricorder. “Take a look—its chemical bonds are similar to glass, and these people are all about using heat. What if they found a way to make glass out of oil?”

  Duffy slapped his forehead. “That’s it! Glass is good for holding heat anyway, especially if you’re using something like volcanic glass. They took an oil with high heat-retention properties, and then subjected it to such intense heat it fused into a glass. All the retention of the original oil, plus the added retention of glass itself, in an easy-to-use form. Nice job, Pattie.”

  She wriggled her antennae. “Just trying to look at it from their perspective.”

  Now that they knew how the containment grid worked, it was easier to trace the energy conduits and figure out the rest of the system.

  “Solar energy is distributed throughout the ship,” Duffy reported over his communicator. “They use it for warmth, for light, and to power all their systems.”

  “So this ship literally runs on starlight?” That was Stevens, finishing the last of the cleanup.

  “You got it. The panels on the collection array absorb heat and light, and transfer that thermal energy to the containment system. It’s designed to retain those elements for long periods, and the heat is then bled off as necessary.”

  “That matches what we just heard from Dr. Tydoan,” Fabian said. “The crew members definitely died from sudden heat—roughly five hundred degrees Celsius. That’s more than enough to turn any of us to ash, but they apparently had a higher tolerance for heat—the doc guesses they came from a world much closer to their sun. But actual plasma from the sun would be ten times hotter than that, so they weren’t actually scooping up bits of suns, or capturing solar flares. They used the passive heat and light instead—much less energy, but a lot safer.”

  “What is the engine’s status?” Salek asked. Pattie glanced at Duffy, who nodded for her to answer.

  “Looks like we can have it up and running in another hour, sir. Not for long-range travel, maybe, but certainly enough to get it to the nearest Federation system.”

  “Good. The Bynars have confirmed that the controls are also near restoration, so that we can direct the ship from the bridge. By the time you have the engines back online, we may also be able to program in a flight path. We will—”

  “Gold to away team,” the captain’s voice interrupted. “Salek, get your people out of there! The outpost’s long-range scanners have picked up Cardassian energy traces. It’s got to be their patrol ship, coming back early.”

  “They may have seen that energy spike,” Pattie pointed out. “And now they’re coming to check it out.”

  “Whatever the reason, we need to get out of here,” Gold replied. “I want all of you to beam back now.”

  “I strongly recommend against that course of action, Captain,” Salek replied, and Pattie stared at Duffy, who looked back at her in shock. “If we leave now, this ship will fall into the hands of the Cardassians. Not only can they try to adapt its technology for their own military efforts, but the computer registered the presence of the outpost. In addition, a detailed active scan by the Cardassians might reveal the outpost on its own. We cannot risk that.”

  They could hear Gold sigh over the link. “Damn. You’re right, we can’t let the Cardassians find it. But we can’t fight them off, either.”

  Fabian chimed in. “Actually, maybe we can.”

  Chapter

  4

  “Stevens, report.”

  Fabian hit his suit’s communicator to respond to Salek. “I’ve got the weapons array online.” It had been simple enough, really. He’d mistaken the ship’s exterior vents for guns, because they were clearly designed both to swivel about and to release bursts of energy. All he’d had to do was install a targeting system on the ship’s computer, and then slave the vents to that program. It wouldn’t have pinpoint accuracy, but it was good enough to lock onto and hit a ship the size of the da Vinci, and anything larger would be even easier. Plus, with the amount of energy the vents could release, it might only need to connect once.

  “You have capped the release?”


  “Affirmative.” Fabian checked the displays again, just to be sure. “It won’t vent enough to destabilize the sun.” Part of him wondered why the original crew hadn’t done the same thing—they could have limited the vent’s capacity and bled off a little energy at a time. But maybe they hadn’t thought of it, or hadn’t had the time to let it vent in stages.

  “Good work, Stevens. Report to the engine room to assist Duffy and Blue.”

  “Roger that.” Fabian clambered to the nearest airlock and swung himself back inside. Then he shucked off his space suit and trotted down the hallway to where Pattie and Kieran were moving among the racks of collectors.

  “Hey, need a hand?”

  Kieran glanced up and grinned. “Back from your walk already? Sure, pick up a tool. We’ve got most of it running, actually—this ship really was built to with-stand just this sort of radiation, so most of the important stuff wasn’t too badly damaged. A few bypasses and some new components and the engine’s back online.”

  “Great. Well, I’ve got the guns working, such as they are.”

  “The shields are up, too,” Kieran admitted, then shook his head. “Sad, really. Here’s this great ship, built without any need for attack or defense. And we come along and, in less than an hour, turn it into a warship.” It was true—the shields had also been modifications from the ship’s original design, taking smaller vents all along the exterior and syncing them together to provide a cohesive bubble of protective fire. The little vents had actually been designed to function as smaller thrusters, for fine-tuning the ship’s movement.

  Fabian shrugged. “It’s a shame we have to do that to this baby, sure. And that we can so easily turn anything into a weapon. But better that than let the Cardassians do it. And definitely better than letting them hurt us, or the people on that outpost.”

  They worked silently for a few minutes, each of them going over an area of the engine room before moving to the next location. Finally, they met back near the central column.

  “And here we come to the heart of the matter,” Kieran muttered, and Fabian smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Even with Cardassians heading their way there was no call for a joke that bad. “Sorry. But it is.” Kieran showed him and Pattie his padd. “Do you see what I see?”

  Pattie nodded. “Definitely.” She hit her communicator. “Commander, we have a problem.”

  “It’s the engine, sir, she’s gonna blow!”

  Salek, having joined the team in the engine room, ignored Duffy’s passable impersonation of Captain Scott and studied the tricorder instead. “Yes, I see.” Then he spoke into his own communicator. “Captain, the team’s estimates are correct. This ship is powering back up, and will reach danger levels again in approximately two-point-four hours. We had failed to realize that the exterior collection array was still active, and that Randall V’s sun produces an unusually high amount of energy due to its own instabilities.”

  “So you’re saying we have less than three hours before we’ve got the same problem that killed its first crew?”

  “Affirmative, sir.” Salek closed his eyes to concentrate. Two-point-four hours there, point-four hours until the Cardassians arrived, plus volume squared…yes, it would work. He opened his eyes and stood, tapping several new commands into the padd before returning it to Duffy.

  “Captain, I have formulated a plan. Blue, you will disconnect the collector array immediately. Stevens, you will assist her; 110 and 111, you will return to the da Vinci and stand by the communications systems. Once the Cardassian vessel is in range, record their communications and decode their ship’s identification signal. Duffy, you will accompany them. I have sent a series of commands into your tricorder, which you will relay to the transporter room. Then report to the da Vinci’s bridge. Set our systems to broadcast the message I have included, using the Cardassian signal once the Bynars have isolated it. I will be on the bridge of this vessel.”

  “Wait a second, what are you going to do?” Duffy demanded, and Salek repressed the urge to reprimand him for speaking back to a superior. This was not the time or the place for that.

  “I will do my job, Lieutenant Commander, as you will do yours. If my plan is successful, we will be able to deal with the approaching ship and protect the outpost from discovery. But only if we all do our part.” With that he turned away, and waited until Duffy had beamed back to the da Vinci before glancing around again.

  The humans are so—emotional, his sister had told him once. Salek occasionally wondered if his long association with them had in some way infected him with such irrational behavior. His sister’s concern was, he believed, over that very thing, though Salek had dismissed it at the time. Certainly his current plan might seem irrational to some. But it was not. He had weighed the various factors, and selected the course most likely to succeed with the least risk to the smallest number of people. It was eminently logical.

  He just hoped Captain Gold and the others would someday recognize that.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Gold demanded as Duffy stepped onto the bridge. “What does he think he’s doing?”

  “Wish I could say, sir,” Duffy replied, taking his place at one of the aft science posts. “I know Salek has something in mind, but he didn’t bother to tell me what it was beyond my own part. He even encoded his instructions for the transporter room so that I couldn’t read them. I do trust him, though.”

  “That’s not the issue,” Gold clenched the sides of his chair, trying to force himself to calm down. Duffy was too young to understand, even with the recent war. But Gold had seen a lot of battles, and he’d seen a lot of people throw themselves away, sometimes needlessly. Something in Salek’s voice when he’d announced that he had a plan had reminded Gold of those others, and the chill it caused was still sliding down his spine.

  But now was not the time.

  “Cardassian vessel approaching, warp one and slowing,” Ina Mar reported from ops. “Should be within visual range any second.”

  “Onscreen when it is,” Gold ordered, and an instant later the warship appeared on the viewscreen. It was a Galor-class, as expected—far too big for the da Vinci to handle on its own.

  “Salek, you picking this up?”

  “Affirmative, sir.” The Dancing Star angled slightly, facing the approaching Cardassian. “This ship is operational, and I am prepared.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Gold saw Duffy grimace. What was that all about? Well, he’d find out later—if there was a later.

  “Fine, Salek. How do you want to play this? You’ve obviously got something in mind.”

  “Yes, sir. First we wait for the Cardassians to—”

  “Sir, incoming from the warship,” McAllan reported from tactical, and Gold nodded. An instant later the message was heard across the bridge.

  “Unidentified vessels, this is the warship Grach’noyl. You will power down weapons and shields, and remain in position until we can come alongside and board. Any attempt to do otherwise will result in our opening fire. You have one minute to comply.”

  “Wong, prepare for evasive maneuvers,” Gold ordered quietly. “McAllan, prepare torpedoes.”

  Exactly one minute later, the Cardassians opened fire. But their primary target was the larger Dancing Star, which was a good thing—judging from what he’d heard in the briefings, Gold figured it had stronger shielding than they did. Let them pound on the vessel he wanted destroyed anyway. In the meantime, the da Vinci was free to act.

  “Wong, bring us around on its flank. McAllan, open fire.”

  The first salvo of torpedoes was launched, and at the same time Dancing Star released an attack of its own. Gold watched, awed, as a stream of fire lanced from the alien ship to flare along one entire side of the attacking Cardassian. It looked like nothing so much as a directed miniature solar flare, lighting the entire area with its brilliance, and they could almost see the warship shudder from the intense heat. Their own torpedoes hit the opposite side and did far less damage.


  “Sir, the Cardassians’ shields are down sixty percent,” McAllan reported.

  “Good,” he replied, never taking his eyes from the screen. “He’ll have to redistribute power, bolstering the area in front of Salek. As soon as the shields on our side drop, fire the second salvo.” Then he glanced back at Duffy, whose fingers were dancing over the console. “Duffy, you know what you’re doing?”

  Duffy nodded absently. “Yes, sir. We needed that Cardassian message. Now I just have to wait until”—his console chimed, and he grinned—“the Bynars crack its ID code. And then we program our system to broadcast that ID.” He glanced up. “You might want to warn the outpost not to get too alarmed if they suddenly hear the Cardassians again.”

  “Fine.” Gold nodded to Ina, who sent a quick warning to the outpost via the radio beacon. Even if they hadn’t been otherwise occupied, the Cardassians probably wouldn’t have noticed. As it was, the warship was busy unleashing its full fury on the Dancing Star, with little to no visible effect. The jury-rigged shields on the large vessel proved more than adequate to melt the torpedoes and absorb the phaser fire before anything could reach the ship’s hull.

  “Sir,” Salek reported, “I have programmed this ship’s systems according to my plan. Whatever happens next, please do not interfere. Instead, when the Cardassians’ shields drop, remove the da Vinci with all due speed.”

  “Salek, what—” Gold stopped as McAllan shook his head. The Vulcan had severed their connection. “Wong, you heard the man. Prepare to retreat at all possible speed, on my mark. McAllan, be ready with that second volley.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir,” Ina reported, “I’m registering a third-party transporter lock. Someone has overridden our system and is redirecting the transporters for their own use.”