Star Trek: Enterprise Logs

by Carol Greenburg

  Draining the cup, Garrett stood up, Singh right beside her. As they moved to recycle the remnants of their meal, the captain shrugged. “Hopefully. The Warin need more space for their growing population, and we’ve been asked to find them a world. Survey ships indicate this sector shows some promise.”

  The pair walked out of the rec room and continued down the corridor toward a turbolift. With the shift underway, the corridors were quieter; the few crew seen were moving about with purpose. All slowed to greet the captain, and she responded in kind, impressing herself with the number of names she could summon from memory. “It’s getting a little rougher for the Federation to grow. After all, we have other governments with claims to this quadrant of space and that hems us in just a bit. Thankfully, most are keeping to themselves, but others like to rattle their sabers now and then. Look at the Klingons. Still making noises about war despite the long years we’ve discussed peaceful cooperation. Sometimes I think they forget what happened at Camp Khitomer.”

  “Spoken like a true diplomat,” Singh teased. “It’s why you left Qo’noS, right?”

  Garrett replied with a shrug of her own.

  Singh keyed the turbolift and they entered the small space. The engineer directed them toward the bridge and then, with a laugh, said, “Just another mission for the Enterprise, wasn’t it?”

  The words caught Garrett by surprise, burrowing deep and touching a nerve. “The Enterprise is the most storied name in Starfleet history, and I read through every captain’s log entry I could find from April to Harriman. You should hear the pride in their voices when discussing their ships … their crews. You’d think they never dropped out of warp, hurtling from adventure to adventure.”

  “Of course, it was a different era,” Singh noted. “Everything must have seemed new to them.”

  The doors snapped open, and the watch officer, Lieutenant Carmona, stood up and announced, “Captain on the bridge.”

  “There are countless captains over the years to compare myself with,” Garrett observed, just as she strode from the turbolift to her command chair. Singh lingered on the upper deck, studying the large monitor displays. To her left was a giant schematic of the Enterprise itself, all telltales indicating things were operational. The captain settled into the chair and surveyed her crew. She knew them all, at least by name, and was satisfied that all was quiet. This was what she asked for, after all. It was Garrett who petitioned Starfleet to relieve her of her diplomatic assignment to the Klingon Empire and return her to active duty. She felt the call of the stars, the unknown. What surprised her was how quickly they granted the request; she was even more surprised by the name of the ship she was assigned.

  The Ambassador-class ship was the first to bear the name Enterprise in a while, but she knew it was inevitable. After all, a ship with such a famous history needed to be part of the fleet, as much for public relations as for crew morale. There was some comfort to be gained by knowing an Enterprise was patrolling the Federation and some pride in serving aboard the vessel.

  “Status, Mr. Carmona?”

  The olive-skinned officer crisply replied, “We’re following the course suggested by the Warin. However, we’re passing close to a binary star system, which is producing unusual effects. Nothing we can’t navigate through, but it makes things a little tricky the further out we look.”

  The captain nodded and looked at the overhead display directly behind her, reading the amount of output in each waveband generated by the neutron star. At Starfleet Academy she specialized in history and diplomacy, but as an officer she had had to recall her science lessons on more than one occasion.

  “Mr. Hemachandra, some background on this system, please.”

  Nelson Hemachandra, an older officer, finished consulting something at the science station, then turned and looked at his captain. “I’ll try not to bore you, Captain,” he began brightly. “A pulsar and a subgiant star form the binary system we’re approaching. None of those planets can sustain life, given the amount of radiation being thrown off by the two. I would hope you’re not planning to have us travel between them.”

  She grinned. “Wouldn’t think of it. So, why the odd readings?”

  “The neutron star has the stronger gravity and is ‘stealing’ gas from the outer layers of the subgiant,” the officer continued in a dull tone. “The process of the material being attracted by the neutron star, settling in a disk surrounding it, and eventually hitting the surface is called ‘accretion.’”

  “Thank you, I do recall that much,” Garrett said coolly.

  Hemachandra nodded, suitably chastened. “Whenever enough gas from the cooler subgiant has accumulated on the hot neutron star, it burns it off in a pulse reaction—hence the name ‘pulsar.’ Between the two stars we’re getting readings all over the spectrum.”

  “I see. Thank you. Helm, belay that order to fly between the stars,” Garrett said.

  At first McAvennie seemed startled by the order, then realized the intended humor. “Aye, Sir,” she replied.

  “Helm, what’s out there?” Garrett asked, returning her attention to the forward screen.

  Aine McAvennie looked over her shoulder with bright eyes. “I can’t be certain, Sir. All sensors indicate routine space debris, gas, and lots of nothing. Target solar system is a day away at maximum warp.”

  “Understood. Steady as she goes, Mr. McAvennie. Cat, go back below and make sure these rapid pulses won’t compromise the warp core. You promised me 100 percent, and I want it all. We’re a long way from home, and I want no problems.”

  “No problems, aye,” Singh replied and returned to turbolift.

  The next three hours passed by slowly. Garrett remained in the center seat, reading reports on padds rather than sitting in her ready room, alone. She made an effort to engage her bridge crew in conversation, keeping things from growing too silent. Nelson Hemachandra was the oldest among them, a lieutenant who had served on six other ships before requesting a fresh start on the Enterprise. She trusted his experience and liked his keen interest in non-Terran musical forms. After all, during her time on Qo’noS, she grew to appreciate their operas. McAvennie was on her second star rotation but was hoping to transfer to Earth, assigned to Starfleet Command so she could marry her fiancé, currently an adjutant to Commodore Satin. Carmona was the artist in the group, completing one canvas after another according to replicator reports, but he was too shy to show any of them. He was a competent first officer, and Garrett respected his privacy but had hoped he’d feel more comfortable after all these months together. Thithta, at communications, said he asked for the Enterprise, wanting to serve on a ship with such a famous pedigree, and Garrett couldn’t help but agree. After all, she had to stifle her surprised exclamation when Admiral Lavin gave her new orders nearly a year earlier. In all, Garrett appreciated her bridge crew, complacent or not.

  “I’m telling you that the maneuverability of the Constellation-class ship makes it better for deep space exploration,” Carmona argued. “The four nacelle design gives it added thrust.”

  McAvennie rolled her eyes and replied, “If that’s so, why are there so few of them doing just that? In fact, the Excelsior design, being larger, makes more sense to use when leaving Federation territory.”

  “Maybe, but which craft are they building today? That should help solve this little dilemma of ours.”

  “Actually,” Thithta, the Andorian communications officer, injected quietly, “both classes are down to just two a year. They’re already designing the next class of ship….”

  His words were cut off by the proximity alert. Nearly a dozen bodies reacted simultaneously, bodies turned to their stations, hands running over control panels. The silence was immediate.

  Garrett’s eyes went wide for a moment; then she set her chin and focused on the information streaming in from all stations. Everyone was hunched over their station, calling out without turning.

  “Close-range sensors detect three vessels, twenty thousand
kilometers off the starboard bow,” Polly Luttrull announced from tactical, located to Garrett’s left. “Approaching at warp 2 and slowing.”

  “Configuration unrecognizable,” added Hemachandra at the science console behind the captain.

  “No communications signal from the ships,” said Thithta.

  “Full stop. Yellow Alert,” Garrett snapped, feeling her pulse rise. “Shields and weapons on standby, but let’s not appear hostile. Thithta, standard hails using first contact protocols. Lieutenant Luttrull, how’d they sneak up on us?”

  Shaking her tightly coiled brown hair, Luttrull said without turning around, “Haven’t a clue, Sir. The sensors aren’t at 100 percent thanks to the binary, and it seems our efficiency is down more than we thought as we get closer.”

  Hemachandra stood forward, leaning over the railing, fingers interlaced. “I believe the alien ships may have used the binary’s energy against us.”

  “Explain,” Garrett ordered, not taking her eyes off the viewscreen.

  “The neutron star’s bursts will give off radiation mostly in the short or high-energy wavelengths, X rays mostly, while the subgiant is very bright in the optical and longer or infrared and radio wavelengths. This pair covers most of the spectrum, which would mask their approach on our sensors.”

  “And they came at us from the opposite side of the stars,” Luttrull added. “Somehow they detected our presence and must have been waiting for us.”

  “Okay,” Garrett agreed growing cautious, “but to welcome us or not?”

  “Sorry about that, Captain,” Carmona said from ops. “My fault for not noticing that sooner.” The first officer then sent inquiries to their astrometrics lab in an effort to find where these ships may have originated.

  Garrett frowned, ignoring the comment and hating the limitations the binary imposed on her ship and crew. Pushing the thought aside, she ordered, “Mr. Hemachandra, get me everything you can glean from those ships. Are they built for speed or war?”

  “I’m on it,” he replied, bending deeper over his readouts. Garrett stared at the main viewer, looking at one of the alien vessels, getting control of her breathing. All data indicated each was roughly the same size as the Enterprise, maybe a little larger. It seemed composed of five vertical pods, held together with a latticework of struts and supports. The pods were in a deep orange while the support structure was in a dark purple, with bright white lights running up and down.

  “Nothing comes close,” Carmona admitted. “Astrometrics reports no lifesigns within two dozen light-years of our position. Definitely a first contact occasion. My first.”

  “Only Mr. Hemachandra can claim experience with that, I believe,” the captain said, forcing her voice to remain calm. If Singh was right, and they took their cues from her, now was the time to exude professionalism.

  “Did it turn out all right?” Luttrull asked.

  “It didn’t help that the captain was a Tellarite.” The science officer laughed. “But fortunately the Calix were so interested in trade rights they chose not to notice.”

  The captain felt the adrenaline running through her like an electric charge, and it made her tighten her grip on the armrests. She was about to make her first contact with a new species and was determined not to make any errors. Garrett felt ready for the encounter, considering all her training at Starfleet and experience with other races, especially the belligerent Klingons.

  “All three vessels are releasing … something … from their hulls,” Luttrull said, her voice rising in anticipation. “Sensors are working better at close range so we should have data in a second. Probes maybe. Apparently not weapons, from their energy signatures.” The orange devices were smaller versions of the pods, without struts and with a single engine exhaust.

  “No reply to any hail,” Thithta said in his soft lisp.

  “Put it on automatic and start looking for signals. What’s controlling the probes? Is one ship controlling the probes or all three? Any intership chatter we can monitor with the translator?” Garrett asked.

  “No lifesigns on the probes,” the dark-skinned Hemachandra offered. He started to add something; then his attention was distracted by a signal on his console. “The lead ship is scanning us,” he announced. “Nothing overly invasive. May I return the gesture?”

  Garrett shook her head, saying, “Not yet. I want nothing misinterpreted.” The information was coming in at a rapid pace, and Garrett soaked up each piece, placing it on her mental table. Pieces to a puzzle, picture unknown.

  “Luttrull, what are the probes doing?”

  The tactical officer paused, running the information twice and then projecting it on the viewscreen closest to the main viewer. It showed the Enterprise in blue, the three alien ships in red, and the smaller probes in yellow. The probes were all in motion, scattering before the Enterprise, while the three other ships, further back, were spreading apart, slowly. Garrett studied the view, looking for a threat, uncertain of their formation. She frowned with concentration.

  Then, suddenly, two of the ships shot past the Enterprise at twice their previous speed. The probes remained, and the captain wasn’t sure what to make of it. She studied the tactical display, as did most of the bridge crew.

  “Nothing hostile in that move, don’t you think?” the first officer said.

  “No change in the probes’ power signatures,” Luttrull offered.

  “Then it wasn’t hostile,” Garrett agreed with a small smile. Certainly not like any first contact she recalled studying. Maybe they communicated through physical action rather than verbal communication, she considered. The ships continued to spread further apart on the screen, forcing Garrett to look for a pattern, trying to see trouble before it began.

  “Helm, ahead one-quarter impulse,” Garrett commanded after a few more silent seconds. “Let’s keep our eyes and ears open, gentlemen. We haven’t a clue what this all means, so we proceed slowly and cautiously.”

  The starship moved forward, closing in on the probes, which continued to float about, seemingly aimless in the distance. On the bridge, everyone stayed silent, uncertain of what was to happen when they engaged the probes. The tactical display showed the two vessels having slowed down and starting to turn.

  “Are they coming back?” Hemachandra asked.

  “Certainly not at ramming speed,” Luttrull offered.

  “Nelson,” Garrett inquired, “what did the survey ships say about nearest life-forms?”

  Always prepared, the science officer didn’t need to consult the computer but said, “This entire area was declared devoid of sentient life-forms when the survey was prepared twenty years ago.”

  “A lot can happen in twenty years,” McAvennie murmured.

  “The food processors could never make fish properly,” Luttrull teased.

  “Eyes front,” Garrett quietly commanded. Over the next minute, no one said anything as all personnel watched their own stations, stealing glances at the tactical display. The probes continued to spread out, in no discernable pattern, while the alien ships also spread apart in no obvious pattern. Garrett kept the Enterprise moving forward, seeing no reason to stop. Still, she tried to think beyond her training, approach the situation from an alien perspective.

  Finally, they were among the probes, and still nothing changed. Some were now on both sides of the sleek starship, none registering any change in power or radio signal. The captain heard a few audible exhalations among those who held their breath.

  “Captain, the alien ships are moving closer,” Luttrull reported.

  “Any other changes?”

  “None,” the tactical officer said, but was cut off by Thithta.

  “The radio signal has changed. It’s now coming from all three ships to the probes. Captain, it’s like they’re synchronizing….”

  Garrett quickly noted the tactical display and uttered a curse. She never stopped to watch the integration of alien probe and alien ship. Instead, she had only focused on the ships. The
Enterprise was surrounded and vulnerable. “Red Alert,” she snapped, mentally reprimanding herself.

  Red lighting replaced the daytime hue, and a klaxon sounded on every deck. Garrett barely noted that the turbolift doors quickly opened as support personnel scrambled to man all the stations. It had always been a rule that every bridge station be manned by trained personnel during emergencies. They were specifically capable of handling multiple duties in case of injuries.

  All idle chatter had stopped the moment the Red Alert sounded, and the tension on the bridge was getting thick. The unknown always had that effect on a crew, Starfleet’s counselors had reported. Garrett certainly agreed, having faced the unknown on more than one occasion on both the Gandhi and the Endeavour. The latter had her patrolling the Romulan Neutral Zone after the now-famous Tomed Incident. It made the crew so jumpy, Starfleet changed its orders and rotated crews every four months to keep the officers sharp.

  “All decks report ready,” Thithta announced.

  “Good,” Carmona replied. “Phasers hot, all torpedo tubes loaded.”

  “Preliminary targeting?” Luttrull asked.

  Garrett bit her lip for a brief moment. What was it K’mpec told her on Qo’noS? Ignore nothing; everything was a potential threat.

  “Phasers on the probes, torpedoes on the ships.”

  “Aye, Sir,” she replied.

  “Thithta, what’s going on?” Garrett asked, struggling to sound calm.

  “Synchronization…” the Andorian began, but the aliens sprang to action at that moment. Bright blue energy suddenly emitted from the three ships to the probes. Like water buckets passed from hand to hand in an old-fashioned fire brigade, the blue light went from probe to probe until suddenly the pattern became obvious.

  “A web,” Luttrull said. “Caught like a fly.”

  “Or a Tholian,” Carmona added. “Damn. We should have seen it.”

  “Energy reads as some form of charged plasma,” Hemachandra said. “Not a pattern I’ve seen before.”