“And since Federation scientists like to study everything in painstaking detail,” Taghrex said, “they took the emitter array with them, having no real idea as to what it was they carried.”
“And they remain ignorant, it seems,” Nostrene replied, knowing that it had fallen to him to take maximum advantage of that ignorance in order to protect the Assembly’s interests.
He knew that the political ramifications of the next few moments went far beyond the simple angering of the Klingons. While the Empire might very well respond with hostility to the news, the Assembly could ill afford to alienate the Federation at this time. Diplomatic relations had reached a critical juncture, and the Magistrates feared that negative repercussions from any revelations made here today could put the Federation into a difficult position. They could well be forced to choose between their alliance with the Klingons and the progress they had made with the Tholians. It was not difficult to believe that any decision would not be in the Assembly’s favor.
Avoiding such a predicament seemed the only logical choice to make, the Magistrates believed. They considered the destruction of one or even two Starfleet vessels a small price to pay, and had issued the order to Nostrene.
But being a seasoned commander, Nostrene would not act rashly. In order to succeed, his plan of attack would have to be bold and focused, with the first priority being the destruction of the derelict ship and the emitter array. That way, even if he failed to defeat the recovery vessel, the damning evidence harbored by the trapped ship would no longer be an issue.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the intraship communications system.
“Commander,” the sensor officer called out from the command deck. “The Federation ship has increased power to their tractor beam. They seem to be experiencing difficulty pulling the other vessel free.”
So the operation is turning out to be more difficult than anticipated, Nostrene thought. Perhaps the Starfleet engineers would fail in their attempt to retrieve their trophy. If that were to be the case, he would not be surprised. Nostrene had always considered it the height of arrogant presumption for anyone to think that mechanical devices created by fallible beings could have any real influence on natural phenomena such as the interdimensional anomaly holding the forsaken starship.
Of course, he fully expected arrogant presumption to win out today, and for that he knew he must be prepared.
Moments later, he and Taghrex walked onto the command deck. His eyes scanned the main display screen and saw that the Starfleet recovery vessel’s tractor and deflector beams were still active and concentrated on the center of the rift.
“What is the status of the trapped ship?” he asked the sensor officer.
“It is difficult to be certain,” the subordinate replied. “The rift is still blocking our scans. But the ship is approaching the threshold of the opening, and the Starfleet engineers tell us that there will be a moment of molecular disruption as it moves through that barrier. Once that process has begun, our sensor readings should improve.”
How much time would he have before he was forced to act? He could not risk attempting to arm weapons until he was certain a lock could be obtained on the trapped ship, otherwise he risked alerting the recovery vessel’s crew. Likewise, he could not even order the ship’s defensive screens activated, as that would also make their Starfleet counterparts suspicious.
“Commander,” the sensor officer called out again, “scans of the Defiant are improving. She has engaged low power thrusters. They have managed to restore limited power to the vessel and it appears they are trying to assist the rescue operation.” The subordinate spent several moments studying the sensor information before issuing his next report. “The forward edge of the vessel’s primary hull has begun to emerge from the rift, Commander.”
Nostrene did not have to look to know that Taghrex was staring at him, waiting for his instructions. Though he may have voiced concerns over the Magistrates’ directives earlier, the Tholian commander knew that his second in command would carry out his orders without question when the time came to act.
That time, Nostrene admitted, had come.
Gomez took one final look at the status readings displayed on the bridge’s engineering console monitors before nodding in satisfaction. The power generators they had brought with them were working perfectly, and thruster power was available. It wasn’t much, but with the da Vinci already applying the full force of its workhorse engines and tractor beam, it should be enough.
“I’d find a seat, everyone,” she said as she stepped down into the command well and made her way to the helm console. “This could get bumpy.”
Gold heeded her advice and lowered himself into the captain’s chair. It wasn’t as comfortable as his chair on the da Vinci , a fact compounded by the bulky environmental suit he still wore. Looking to his right, he saw that Soloman remained seated at the science officer’s console, his wide eyes watching the main viewer.
And for good reason, too. The sight on the screen was a kaleidoscopic furor of energy as the Defiant struggled against the interdimensional forces holding it inside the rift. Gold thought he could faintly see stars beyond the multihued chaos dominating the screen, though. He told himself that it wasn’t his eyes playing tricks on him. They were making progress.
He continued to tell himself that even as the deck beneath his feet, already vibrating noticeably since the da Vinci had locked on with her tractor beam, began to tremble with increasing fervor.
“You weren’t kidding,” Gold said to Gomez as his hands instinctively grabbed onto the arms of the captain’s chair.
Gomez replied without turning her attention from her console. “It will probably get worse as we start to cross the threshold. That’s when the molecular shift will occur as we move out of the rift and back into normal space. Besides, I couldn’t spare the power to the inertial dampening field. We’ll feel pretty much every bump in the road from here on out.”
“We are approaching the barrier, Commander,” Soloman reported, his face bathed in blue as he peered into the science station’s viewfinder, which filtered and displayed all relevant sensor data at the command of the person operating it. “ Transition should occur in five seconds.”
Gold found himself counting to himself as the interval passed, the bucking of the ship continuing to increase with each passing second. On the screen, the stars he thought he had seen earlier were now quite distinct. Another few moments and they would be free of the rift.
It’s going to work .
The thought came, of course, just before everything went to hell.
Gold felt his stomach lurch and his teeth rattle as something seemed to reach out and smack the entire ship, hull plates and bulkheads rattling and shaking as the Defiant twisted first one way and then another. The sounds of protesting metal were nearly deafening in the small confines of the bridge.
“What the hell was that?” Gold yelled above the din.
Knuckles white as she held onto the helm, Gomez shook her head. “I don’t know. It felt like—”
“We are under attack,” Soloman interrupted, fighting to read the sensor telemetry even as he too gripped onto his console for support. “The Tholians are firing on us!”
“What?” Gold replied, scarcely believing his ears even as his mouth formed around the words to order evasive action, experience and instinct beginning to take over. His brain took an additional instant to catch up and remind him that the Defiant , even if not in the grip of the da Vinci ’s tractor beam, currently had all the maneuverability of an elephant in a closet.
“Gold to da Vinci ,” he called into his communicator, his thoughts quickly turning to his ship and the vulnerable position they were in so long as they maintained their hold on the Defiant . Duffy would have to disengage if he were to have any chance of protecting the da Vinci should the Tholians attack her.
There was no response to his call.
Repeating the attempt achieved the same
results, and Gold turned to Gomez. “I can’t raise the ship.”
It was Soloman who replied, still continuing to study the sensor displays. “The Tholians’ weapons fire has caused a . . . disruption in the rift, Captain. Communications have been . . . disabled.”
Damn . Gold wondered about Duffy and the pressure he must be feeling right now. It was one thing to learn the rigors of command from classroom study and even from time spent aboard ships in space. It was quite another thing to be tried by fire under combat conditions. Many hopeful commanders had failed this particular type of test. How would Duffy respond to the challenge dropped so unceremoniously into his lap?
Before he could consider that answer, the ship shuddered again as the Defiant ’s unshielded hull absorbed the brunt of another attack. The shock tore Gold from the chair and tossed him forward without warning. He threw his arms out in a desperate effort to protect himself from the impact of being thrown into the unmanned navigation console.
It never came.
Air was forced from Gold’s lungs as he crashed into the deck, coming to rest at the foot of the stairs leading to the bridge’s upper deck.
“Captain!” Gomez cried as she bolted from her seat, moving around the helm console to kneel next to Gold.
Rolling onto his side, the captain realized with astonishment that he was lying in front of the navigator’s station. He looked at the console that he was sure he should have fallen into and was stunned at the sight before him.
“Sonya,” he said, his voice a horrified whisper, “look.”
Before them, the captain’s chair was clearly visible through the surface of the helm console, itself looking like a hazy, semitransparent film draped across the command well.
“Molecular shift,” Soloman called out from the science station. “They’re occurring . . . all across the ship. I suspect it is a reaction to . . . the weapons fire inside the rift.”
The ship rocked again under yet another assault and Gomez was knocked from her kneeling position to the deck. Everyone reached for handholds as the Defiant endured the latest round of punishment, shaking violently once again.
“We can’t take much more of this,” Gomez said. “Without shields, they’ll cut us to pieces.”
Gold pulled himself to a sitting position. “Any chance you can divert power?”
“The shield generators are completely inert and I’d have to go to engineering to get them back online. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Captain,” Soloman said. “The da Vinci has severed her tractor beam.” The Bynar turned from the console, his expression one of deep concern. “We are being pulled back into the rift.”
CHAPTER
8
“They’re firing! The Tholians are firing on the Defiant! ” A backhand from an enraged Brikar could not have spun Duffy around in the da Vinci ’s captain’s chair with more force than did the voice of Ensign Wong. He had turned away from the viewscreen for only a moment to better focus on data coming from Fabian Stevens at the science station. But in that moment, his worst-case scenario, the one he had tucked even deeper in his mind than thoughts of phaser-cutting the Defiant ’s primary hull free from the ship should the rift pull too tightly on its warp nacelles, leapt fully formed from his imagination to the main viewer.
Duffy felt time slow as he stared at the screen, watching the inevitable. A reddish blob of energy, writhing and expanding, closed on the Defiant ’s saucer section and spread across it. The crippled starship rocked a bit in response, jostling hardly at all in the perspective provided by the viewer.
But with no shields? That had to hurt.
“They’ve gone space crazy!” Wong shouted. Duffy wasn’t so sure about that, but he was willing to let the whole bridge crew assume that the Tholians had fallen prey to the effects of the interspatial rift. He saw no immediate need to speculate on the true motivations of the inscrutable race of crystalline beings.
What the hell is going on? What did we do wrong ? As the Defiant reeled from her blow, the Tholians struck again, this time with a disruptor burst that appeared even more intensely red than the first. Words stuck in his throat as Duffy saw the old ship rock even more violently than it had from the first attack.
“Duff, I’m having trouble holding the tractor beam on her,” called Stevens from the science station.
“Then don’t hold it.”
The words were Corsi’s, startling Duffy nearly as much as had the Tholians’ attack. His head snapped around and he stared at the security chief, his mouth already open to ask her if she was out of her mind.
But he reined in his words before they could be uttered. He just as quickly dismissed his first instinct that Corsi was challenging his authority and instead remembered Sonya’s advice to hear Corsi out, especially in a fight. Duffy had always thought she meant the next time they laid over at a club on Argelius II.
He scolded himself. Don’t joke; listen to her. She doesn’t think you’re weak, she’s just trying to help .
“What do you mean?” he asked Corsi.
“The Defiant has no shields. They’ll be ripped apart out here, but maybe they’ll be safer in the rift.” She kept her tone civil, Duffy hoped out of respect for his command. “And besides, we won’t be able to maneuver as long as we’re locked on with our tractor beam.”
Duffy knew where she was going, and cursed himself for not reacting sooner. The rescue operation was transforming rapidly into a tactical situation. The fate of the Defiant as well as the da Vinci could well rest on the decisions he made in the next moments.
“Shields up!” he yelled before attempting to temper his voice with the same confidence he heard in Captain Gold’s orders under fire. “Fabian, disengage the beams. Mr. McAllan, lock weapons on the Tholian ship, but hold your fire.”
Without missing a beat, the da Vinci ’s tactical officer tapped the commands into his console. “Aye, sir.”
As he directed a final glance at Corsi, Duffy hoped his next words were tinged with enough appreciation for her to pick up.
“Recommendation noted, Commander.”
Corsi did not give him the smug look he half expected from her, but instead offered a nod and a grim, tight-lipped smile. “Let’s just hope it works.”
In the cargo hold on deck 20, the attack on the Defiant was felt with an even greater intensity than on the bridge.
P8 Blue and Lense found themselves in a hell-storm as cargo containers and equipment across the bay began to shift and tumble in response to the second assault on the ship. The lack of gravity, protective forcefields, and inertial dampening systems only exacerbated the situation as boxes sailed around the room, bouncing off the deck, bulkheads, the ceiling, and each other.
“Look out!” Lense cried, pulling the Nasat out of the path of a cargo crate as it rushed past where she had been standing the instant before.
“What is going on?” Pattie asked as the pair rested against the bulkhead, catching their breath while trying to keep an eye on the legion of errant debris pervading the chamber.
“Somebody’s shooting at us,” Lense said. “Probably the Tholians.”
Pattie looked at the doctor askance. “Why? How can you be sure?”
Cursing for what seemed like the hundredth time at her helmet interfering with her ability to wipe the perspiration from her face, Lense replied, “I don’t know why they’d want to attack us, but I’ve been on ships that were shot at enough to know what it feels like.”
And she’d certainly had her fill of that during the Dominion War, a course of events she had not counted on after graduating first in her Starfleet medical class. Such an accomplishment normally allowed the honored individual to choose their first duty assignment, and Lense had opted for Starfleet Medical Headquarters on Earth. She’d enjoyed that posting for a few years as she concentrated on research before deciding on a change of pace and requesting assignment to the U.S.S. Lexington . But then valedictorian status and personal preference gave way to the
needs of the service as war erupted between the Federation and the Dominion. She’d always felt more than capable of handling any situation that life might confront her with, but that resolve had been sorely tested as she faced enough death and desecration against living tissue to last her several lifetimes.
You signed on with the da Vinci to get away from war and the horrors it inflicts on the body, Lense reminded herself. So how did you end up here?
“Unless Gomez can figure out a way to get enough power for the shields,” Lense said, “we’re a sitting duck out here.”
Any reply Pattie might have had was stifled as the Defiant shuddered against a third vicious impact to its hull. The shock from the attack sent the pair stumbling again for something to hold on to.
“Pattie!” Lense yelled out. The Nasat turned in her direction too late to avoid the cargo container careening off the deck and heading directly for her. She was directly in its path, trapped between it and the bulkhead. The tumbling box was moving fast enough and was of sufficient size that Lense feared Pattie would be severely injured if not crushed by its impact.
The Nasat’s eight limbs went out in a futile attempt to stop the wayward container, but could offer no resistance as it struck her full on. Lense saw Pattie’s head snap back, the box having struck her in the helmet and upper body and driving her toward the bulkhead behind her with the container in fervent pursuit.
Lense lunged forward to help, reacting instinctively rather than with any real course of action in mind. As she moved, she looked to the bulkhead that Pattie was about to smash into.
She saw stars .
“No!” was all Lense could shout before Pattie and the cargo container made contact with the bulkhead.
And passed through it as if it wasn’t even there .
Have Tech, Will Travel Page 28
