Star Trek Prometheus - in the Heart of Chaos

by Christian Humberg

  * * *

  Samooh didn’t know how long he had waited. Despite the uncomfortable bed and the pain that he felt everywhere in his body, sleep had overwhelmed him after his scarce supper. Fatigue had taken its toll. So he jolted up from a tumultuous dream without knowing what time it was when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  With widened eyes he stared at the figure that loomed over him. Two heartbeats later he recognized the pale-skinned slave who had served his supper. He raised one hand in reassurance, then put three fingers against his mouth while his black eyes stared at Samooh imploringly.

  He understood and nodded. Not a sound.

  Cautiously, the strange being took a step back. The energy field for the cell had been switched off.

  “Come,” Samooh’s liberator whispered.

  I don’t have anything to lose, Samooh thought, and everything to gain. Nodding, he joined the stranger.

  The hairless being led him down the corridor past empty cells to the heavy protective door that sealed off the prison area.

  “Where are my companions?” Samooh asked quietly.

  The white-skinned man shrugged with his narrow shoulders. “I don’t know. They are not aboard this ship. They only brought you here.”

  Samooh put a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. “And why are you helping me?”

  The pale stranger looked at him with his black eyes. “Because I heard that you’re a pilot and navigator. And that makes you my best chance to get away once and for all. There are shuttles capable of warp, but I can’t pilot them. That’s why I haven’t escaped from these monsters yet, although I want nothing more than to get off this ship.” In his voice was a bitterness that Samooh understood all too well.

  “Very well,” he said. “Show me this shuttle and I’ll get us out of here.”

  His counterpart nodded. “I had hoped you’d say that. By the way, my name is Raspin.”

  “I’m Samooh.”

  “Here.” Raspin handed Samooh a small energy pistol. “You might need it if anyone wants to stop us. I stole it from the guard.” He pulled out a larger weapon from under his ripped shirt.

  “The guard?” Samooh said, surprised.

  Instead of answering, Raspin opened the hatch. The huge guard sat at a small metal table. His head rested on the tabletop, and he didn’t move. Beside him was a tankard full of an alcoholic-smelling liquid.

  “Is he dead?” Samooh asked.

  Raspin shook his head. “I mixed something into his bloodwine. I’ve been a servant for this crew for so long that they hardly even notice me. Most of all they’ve forgotten that they conquered and enslaved me, and that I hate them for it. Therefore, I can go virtually anywhere, hear everything, see everything. And I can drug guards if necessary.” He grinned menacingly, baring his gleaming white teeth.

  “He should die,” Samooh said grimly. “He deserves to die. Like all sphere defilers.”

  Raspin shook his head again. “Shooting will trigger an alarm. We should only use weapons if we don’t have any other choice. Otherwise, our escape will fail before it’s even begun.”

  Reluctantly, Samooh agreed.

  Raspin gestured invitingly. “Come, quick. Not long now before the night shift is finished. The corridors will be full of people around that time. We need to be gone before then.”

  Quietly, they scurried through the ship. The deckplates underneath Samooh’s bare feet were chilly, but he didn’t let that bother him. The humming of the engines came from the depths of the ship, and occasionally they heard laughter in the distance. Otherwise, it was quiet. Most of the crew seemed to be asleep.

  Once, they heard footsteps coming toward them. But Raspin quickly opened a maintenance hatch, and they waited with bated breath hidden between energy conduits until the two Klingon soldiers had passed them.

  They used a ladder in a vertical shaft to climb two decks down.

  “We’re almost there,” said Raspin. “As soon as we reach the shuttle, you should prepare our departure. I will connect with the ship’s computer system from one of the terminals to create a distraction.”

  “What kind of distraction?” Samooh asked.

  “I’ll switch off the containment field for the antimatter tank in the engine room.”

  “I thought you didn’t know anything about ships.”

  “I can’t pilot them. But I’m familiar with the technology. I’ve had to clean up after the engineers aboard this ship for long enough.”

  They arrived at a long room. Three pressure hatches were along the right wall ten meters away from each other. Raspin went straight for the first one. He touched the control panel, and the hatch hissed open. Behind was a short access corridor that ended at another hatch.

  “That’s where the shuttle is,” the white-skinned being said. “It’s not secured. Just board it and enter a course to a place where we’re safe. Can you do that?”

  Samooh nodded.

  “I’ll be over there.” Raspin pointed at an observation cabin behind a protective glass pane. “I won’t be long.”

  He darted off. Samooh turned around and hurried down the short corridor. The shuttle hatch opened with ease. It revealed a small cabin with a two-seater cockpit and a tiny passenger area. In front of the cockpit window the red nebulae of his home sphere glowed. To Samooh’s surprise, the instrument array was not much different from similar space vessels built by the Renao. Although he had some problems reading the alien letters, he soon understood what worked what.

  He had just accessed the navigation system in order to program a course when he heard shouts behind his back.

  “What are you doing?”

  A shot was fired. The ship alarm sounded. Cursing, Samooh turned away from the controls, grabbed his weapon, and ran out towards the exit. When he reached the corridor, Raspin ran towards him.

  “Quick! We need to get out of here. We’ve been spotted.”

  “Is the distraction in place?” Samooh asked.

  “Yes. We should be able to escape with ease. They will be too busy saving their ship to pursue us.”

  A man appeared at the other end of the corridor, firing his gun. The shot hissed a little too close past Raspin, hitting the frame of the shuttle’s hatch. Samooh felt a static electric charge raise his hackles. Their opponent obviously wanted to stun them, not kill them.

  Samooh was less scrupulous. He raised his own weapon and fired. The Klingon was hit right in the chest and fell over with a thundering thud.

  Raspin jumped back in, hitting the closing mechanism. Rumbling, the hatch closed. He nodded at Samooh.

  “Right. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” said Samooh. “This could be rough.” He placed his weapon at his side, returning to the cockpit area where he settled into one of the chairs at the controls. Raspin sat down next to him.

  With a quick command Samooh released the docking clamps. He diverted energy to the thrusters and the shuttle shot out into the void. Samooh veered off with the small ship. To their left, the massive cruiser of the sphere defilers came into sight: a bulky dreadnought with two nacelles mounted at the sprawling aft section.

  “Quick, go to warp before their crew can nab us with a tractor beam,” Raspin said.

  “On it,” Samooh replied. He typed in a course back into the heart of the cluster. He would have to report to the leaders of the Purifying Flame that they had lost another solar-jumper, and that the secret of the shipyard might have been compromised. Musaan, Shaomi, and the rest of his crew had all known the location. As much as Samooh wanted to believe that none of them had turned traitor, he couldn’t take the risk.

  “There we go!” he said, activating the drive.

  Nothing happened.

  “What?” Confused, Samooh hit the start button again.

  Again, the shuttle didn’t respond.

  Instead, something very strange happened. Right in front of them in space a door appeared out of nowhere. Three Klingons walked in, includin
g the leader, Kromm.

  “Computer, end program,” he said. The surroundings flickered and dissolved—the shuttle, space, Samooh’s weapon, everything. Panting, Samooh fell to the ground when the seat beneath him also dissipated. Only a big, empty room with strange grid lines along the walls remained—and Raspin. The pale slave-being straightened, and suddenly he didn’t seem haunted or frightened anymore. Instead, something like pride appeared on his features.

  “Excellent work, Bekk Raspin,” Kromm said while one of his subordinates pulled out a weapon, pointing it at Samooh.

  Nonplussed, Samooh’s gaze wandered from one to the other. “What? What’s going on?”

  Sneering, Kromm bent down to him. “May I introduce a marvelous piece of technology? It’s called a holosuite.”

  A gruesome understanding washed over the young Renao. “Nothing was real? You fooled me with an illusion?”

  “Well reasoned. Since you all stubbornly resisted our torture, Ambassador Rozhenko…” Kromm pointed at his second companion, a young man in a floor-length coat. “… thought it might be a good idea to try something cunning. I’m not too keen on these Romulan methods, but I suppose the end justifies the means.”

  Samooh felt a chill run through him when it dawned on him what he had done. “No…” he muttered.

  “Yes.” Kromm’s sneer deepened. “You just gave us the coordinates to your secret base.”

  U.S.S. Venture, on the periphery of the Lembatta Cluster

  “We’re receiving a priority message from the U.S.S. Iron Horse, Captain.”

  Bjarne Henderson exchanged a quick glance with Di Monti, who said, “The Iron Horse is patrolling the narrow corridor of Federation space between the Lembatta Cluster and the border to the Klingon Empire.”

  “In which case a priority message from them probably doesn’t bode well.” Henderson finished the thought he and his first officer both apparently had. He turned to his ops officer. “Let’s hear it, Mr. Loos.”

  “Captain th’Clane reports…” Loos turned around on his chair, staring at Henderson and Di Monti with wide eyes, “…that all Klingon forces have been ordered into the Lembatta Cluster.” He checked his console again. “The entire Fifth Fleet that has so far secured planetary systems on the Klingon side while the Ninth Fleet was in Federation space is on the move. We intercepted transmissions that the Bortas has found the location for the Purifying Flame’s shipyard. Apparently, it’s located in the system LC-13.”

  Henderson frowned. “And why haven’t we heard anything about that?”

  “Let me guess,” Di Monti said. “Klingon hunger for glory?”

  The captain opened the intercom. “Henderson to Admiral Gepta.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The Klingons are on the move, sir. The Bortas apparently found the secret shipyard of the terrorists. But their captain neglected to inform us about that. We only found out by accident when we intercepted transmissions. Generals Akbas and Klag are on their way to the system LC-13 with all available ships.”

  “To Iad?”

  “It would appear so.”

  The admiral cursed in Chelon. “That can’t end well. I’m coming to the bridge. Assemble the entire task force. We also need to go to LC-13 with everything we have at our disposal!”

  25

  DECEMBER 1, 2385

  U.S.S. Prometheus, somewhere in the Taurus Dark Cloud

  Jenna Kirk had prepared holodeck one for the transfer of the white energy to Jassat. The holodeck made it easy for the energy being to take shape with its photonic body in order to interact with the Prometheus crew. They could also simulate any given environment here, for example a long silvery beach under a wide starry sky, where the ocean waves broke while a soft nocturnal breeze made the marram grass rustle.

  “It’s wonderful here,” Kirk said quietly.

  “Yes,” Jassat replied. “A beach on my home, Onferin, which I used to love.”

  “The simulation is not entirely correct, though.” The chief engineer pointed at the nocturnal sky. “You don’t see such stellar splendor on Onferin.”

  “No,” Jassat admitted. “I imported the sky from Earth. While I was a cadet at the Academy we made a field excursion to Australia. I have never seen such a wonderful starry night sky on any other world since. I thought it was suitable for this beach.”

  Kirk smiled. “It really is.” She inhaled deeply, gazing at the six shapes waiting for them several meters down the beach. With their white clothes and the rudimentary human features they reminded her of the legendary ancient species that Captain Jean-Luc Picard had discovered just over fifteen years ago in the Vilmoran system. Apparently, all humanoid life stemmed from them. Another four, smaller figures in red clothes stayed in the background, watching everything curiously. All of them were surrounded by a weak aura, just like the rest of the beach where they stood.

  If the species of these energy beings consists of six Old Ones and four Young, I understand why they didn’t want to risk another life from their circle, Kirk thought.

  Except for the ten energy beings, Jassat, and Kirk, the beach was empty. Adams, Spock, and Doctor Calloway waited outside the holodeck. The rest of the senior officers were at their stations. Kirk would also leave her friend before the transfer began. If the experiment was to be successful there couldn’t be any disturbances—the Old One who had become the voice of his people had made that very clear.

  While they slowly walked toward the group, Kirk glanced at Jassat from the corner of her eye. “Part of me wishes you wouldn’t do this. But the rest of me is so immensely proud of you. You’re saving not only your people with what you’re doing, Jassat. You also honor the uniform you’re wearing. Helping, no matter what the cost, is what makes a Starfleet officer.”

  The young Renao smiled at her. A warm fire glowed in his eyes. “Thank you, Jenna. It means a lot to me that you’re escorting me here.”

  “Hey, it’s the least I can do.”

  They reached the group and stopped.

  One of the white shapes—Jenna recognized a hint of Trik’s features—stepped forward. “Are you ready?”

  “In a minute.” Jassat turned to Kirk. “You were a great friend right from day one when we met. You made sure that I didn’t feel alone, and you have always stood by me, even when many turned their backs on me. For that, I’d like to thank you, Jenna.”

  Kirk felt tears well up in her eyes. “I should thank you. It… it was fun.”

  For a moment, they stood opposite each other, not sure what to do next. Finally, Kirk spread her arms, walking toward Jassat. “Come here, you.” Sniffling, she hugged him and held him close. She wanted to tell him that everything would be all right, that he would survive somehow. Hadn’t the Old Ones claimed they didn’t know exactly how the discharge of the white energy would happen?

  But she remained silent. She didn’t want to destroy the moment with silly chatter or false hopes.

  Eventually, they let go of each other, and Kirk took a step back. “I’ll see you when it’s all over,” she said.

  Jassat nodded quietly.

  Clearing her voice, she spoke up. “Computer, exit.”

  Behind her, a door appeared on the smooth sandy beach. With one final glance, she turned away and left the holodeck.

  Jassat stayed behind behind on the beach, alone with the energy beings. The waves rushed, the grass rustled, and the warm wind blew through his hair. If this really was the last moment of his old life, there couldn’t be a more comforting place than this one. It felt like home, even if it was a home that only existed in his dreams and the memory banks of the holodeck.

  “EVERYONE HAS COME,” said the energy being in Trik’s shape. “THE OLD ONES AND THE YOUNG. THEY ALL WANT TO HELP YOU DELIVER THE BOY WHO HAS LOST HIS WAY—AND SAVE YOUR PEOPLE.” A calm, solemn expression was on his face, and it was mirrored in his voice. To Jassat, he looked like a priest.

  “Thank you,” said the Renao. “We appreciate your willingness to give a part
of yourselves in order to restore peace in our home spheres.”

  The entity tilted its head. “Are you ready to become the vessel?”

  Jassat hesitated, before nodding. “Yes, I…” He straightened himself and raised his voice. “Yes, I am.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Is it going to be bad?”

  “IF YOU ARE ASKING WHETHER YOU ARE GOING TO EXPERIENCE PAIN—WE DO NOT KNOW AS WE DO NOT KNOW PAIN LIKE YOU DO. BUT WE KNOW THAT YOUR BODY IS CAPABLE OF HOLDING THE WHITE ENERGY. OTHERWISE WE WOULD NOT HAVE OFFERED TO TRANSFER IT TO YOU.”

  “I understand.” Jassat breathed deeply. “Let us begin. What do I have to do?”

  “NOTHING. JUST COME INTO OUR MIDST AND LET EVERYTHING HAPPEN.”

  Purposefully, the young Renao walked forward, and the six shimmering white beings encircled him. Jassat turned around once, looking into each of the photonic faces. Three of them had taken the shape of men, three of women. Some looked grave, some with a more friendly mien. How different they are from the Son of the Ancient Reds on Iad, Jassat thought. It’s almost unimaginable that he came from their circle all those years ago. And then another thought from his childhood struck him, one that his father had always tried to drill into him to no avail: He who leaves the Home Spheres will meet nothing but misfortune.

  No, Jassat objected. Only those who are frightened think that way! The Son of the Ancient Reds’ destiny is tragic, but it’s not mine. He was reckless, and when he ran into difficulties he didn’t have anyone to help him. I have always leavened my boldness with reason—and I was never alone, even if it sometimes felt that way!

  He turned back to the speaker of the energy beings. Nodding, he gave his permission.

  The six figures reached out with their right arms. Their hands touched Jassat’s shoulders, back, and chest. The glow of their aura intensified, especially around the arms. A quiet, ethereal chime sounded that reminded him of a transporter. The contours of their photonic limbs blurred until they had changed into glittering, pure white energy currents. Jassat felt a prickling sensation spreading from his torso as if thousands of small four-legged insects crawled all over his skin, below his skin, and in all bones, muscles, and organs. The prickling steadily intensified and became a massive rush, like a waterfall pouring into him.