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  Then the light consumed everything.

  ELSEWHERE

  ChR Bloodied Talon

  Sparks flew from the environmental control console as yet another overload coursed through the bridge, and the stench of burned circuitry assaulted Sarith’s nostrils. Without need for instruction, Centurion N’tovek deactivated the console and initiated a fire suppression protocol. The station’s functions were not critical and could be ported to other consoles, and the crew was well trained in such procedures, but that was the least of her problems now.

  “Quantum fluctuations are spiking,” reported Darjil from the sensor station. “The readings are consistent with a dimensional shift. Commander, if we remain in such proximity to the planet, we may be in grave ­danger.”

  “Break orbit.” Sarith moved to the helm station at the bridge’s central hub. On the console’s display screen, she could see the planet beginning to waver and stretch as it had on the previous occasions they had witnessed its vanishing, only this time it was happening while her vessel was much too close for her comfort. “Alert the N’minecci and the Jarax to retreat to safe distance.”

  Prall, the centurion manning the helm, reported, “Something is preventing us from maneuvering, Commander. It is not a tractor beam, but the effect is similar.”

  “Diverting emergency power to the impulse engines and our deflector shields,” said Ineti. The subcommander had pushed aside the centurion manning the secondary helm console and had taken the controls himself. With practiced ease, the elder Romulan keyed the necessary instructions and Sarith felt the trembling from the ship’s depths as the Talon answered his commands. Even with the added power, experience and instinct told her something was wrong.

  Ineti confirmed her suspicions. “We are at full power and unable to break orbit.” The subcommander looked away from the helm controls “I am routing power from the warp engines, but there is no change.”

  “Can we engage the warp engines?” Sarith knew the risks of such a dangerous maneuver, both to her ship and even to the planet below, but time and options were dwindling.

  “The elevated quantum fluctuations are preventing us from establishing a subspace field. Deflector shield generator output is already exceeding tolerance levels and is blocking but a portion of the quantum energy interference.” Ineti input more commands to the console, before shaking his head. “There is nothing more we can do.”

  Turning from the weapons station, N’tovek said, “The escort vessels are reporting similar difficulties, Commander. We could fire on the complex again. Perhaps a more concentrated bombardment.”

  “It would require us to divert power from our propulsion or shields.”

  Sarith asked, “Are we being pulled toward the planet?”

  After consulting one of his instrument panels, N’tovek replied, “No, Commander. The effect is more disruptive in nature. If we were able to block or stop the source of the interference, we would be free of its effects.”

  Another alarm sounded in the confined space, and Ineti moved to silence it. “Our engines are beginning to overheat. If we do not reduce power or break free, they may incur more damage than our engineers can repair.”

  Before Sarith could answer, the entire ship shuddered around them, protesting as though forced to endure a withering attack. Several of the bridge consoles went dark as the main lighting failed, replaced by emergency illumination that flared to life from points around the room. Then everything around her seemed to spin or bend, and a wave of vertigo washed over her. Reaching for the nearest console to steady herself, she felt Ineti’s hand on her arm. She tried to say something but what sounded like a torrent of rain or wind flooded her ears, and she winced at the sudden onslaught. Light pushed in from the edges of her vision, and the dizziness that had come without warning threatened to overwhelm her.

  What is happ—

  ELSEWHERE

  U.S.S. Enterprise-D

  “Red alert!”

  Riker shouted the command just as the entire ship seemed to heave beneath his feet. All around him, the other bridge officers clambered to hold on to anything to anchor themselves to chair or consoles as the Enterprise’s inertial damping system struggled to compensate with the abrupt disruption. The main lighting failed, dousing the bridge in near darkness for the seconds it took emergency illumination to activate. Gripping the back of the conn officer’s chair was the only thing that saved Riker from being thrown to the deck. For the briefest of instants he sensed the artificial gravity wavering, the change channeling through his body and making his stomach lurch.

  “Quantum energy readings are off the scale!” reported Wesley Crusher from the conn seat. “Much more powerful than anything we’ve seen so far.”

  “Pull us back,” ordered Riker. “I want some extra distance.”

  Crusher replied, “I’m trying, Captain, but engines aren’t responding.”

  “We are experiencing system overloads across the ship,” reported Data from his seat next to Riker’s command chair. “Backup systems are being enabled.”

  The buffeting the Enterprise was enduring in response to the planet’s unexpected arrival was beginning to ebb, leaving only a slew of alert indicators sounding across the bridge. Glancing behind him, Riker saw a number of illuminated status indicators flashing on the rear workstations, including far too many from the engineering console. Similar warnings were displayed on Worf’s ops panel.

  Riker pulled down on his uniform jacket as he stepped back from Wesley’s chair. Turning around, he caught sight of Deanna sitting in her usual place next to the captain’s chair. Her expression communicated her discomfort.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  Nodding, she replied, “The crew’s emotions are running high right now.”

  “Tell me about it.” Riker was sensitive to her empathic abilities, of course, and knew that in the face of the unknown situation they were in, it was a natural reaction to be uncertain if not afraid. Deanna would pick up most of that, he knew, particularly from the people here on the bridge.

  Looking to Data, Riker said, “Damage report.”

  “Updates are still coming in, sir,” replied the first officer. “There are a large number of power relays that have suffered overloads. Damage control teams are responding.”

  At the back of the bridge, Geordi La Forge called out, “I’ve already got my people rerouting critical systems, Captain, but there’s a lot to go through.” As though emphasizing his point, the bridge’s main lighting flickered back to life.

  “What the hell happened?” asked Riker. “I thought you said we could anticipate its arrival?” He paused, catching sight of the dead gray world that now was centered on the bridge’s main viewscreen. Though it had erupted into existence, to him it still appeared enveloped by the effects of the transitional shift.

  Data replied, “Unknown, sir. There was a brief surge in the buoy’s broadcast signal just before the planet’s arrival that was inconsistent with anything recorded by our sensors or extracted from the buoy’s own communications log.”

  “The readings aren’t dissipating,” said Crusher. He looked up from his console, confused. “Quantum energy levels are holding steady. It’s like the planet’s stuck.” He tapped several controls. “Helm is still unresponsive. We’re holding position, but I can’t get us to move.”

  “Geordi?” prompted Riker.

  “Working on it, Captain.” There was no mistaking the irritation in the engineer’s voice. “The quantum fluctuations are really doing a number on us.”

  “Pull power from wherever you have to, but get us some breathing room.” Riker turned to see La Forge bent over the engineering console, with Data ascending the ramp to lend assistance.

  “It’s not a question of power, sir. At least, not just by itself. The quantum energy around us is disrupting our systems’ ability to distribute it. I’m t
rying to modulate our shields to compensate, but even that’s giving me fits.”

  “Captain,” said Tasha Yar from the tactical station, “I’m picking up additional vessels in orbit around the planet.”

  Frowning, Riker turned to the security chief. “What? From where?”

  Yar shook her head. “I don’t know, sir. They were just . . . there. Sensors are still trying to sort it all out.” Riker was already moving in her direction when she added, “I’ve got a lock on one of the ships, sir. It’s . . . it’s Romulan.”

  That was enough to make everyone look up from their stations, and Riker almost froze in midstep as he climbed the ramp toward her. He caught himself and made his way to stand beside her, eyeing the sensor readings now displayed upon her console.

  “Are you sure?”

  Yar scowled. “That’s just it, sir. Sensors say it’s Romulan, but an older class of ship. A much older class, as in more than a century out of date.” She tapped another series of controls. “The other two ships look to be Romulan too, and all three have sustained minor damage.”

  “What the hell are Romulan ships doing here?” asked La Forge, dividing his attention between his own work and Riker and Yar. “We’re nowhere near Romulan space.”

  “And how did they get here without our noticing them?” asked Riker. “Could the nebula have disguised their approach?”

  Shaking her head, Yar replied, “I just don’t see how, sir. Our sensors weren’t that compromised, and if these readings are right, that ship is a century old, with cloaking technology to match. We should’ve seen them coming light-years away.”

  Another mystery, Riker mused. Just what we need right now.

  “How are our shields?” he asked.

  “Thirty-six percent.” Yar glanced over her shoulder. “Engineering’s still working on rerouting power to compensate for various overloads.”

  Without waiting for further prompting, La Forge said, “We’re on it, but there are more overloads than I have people to fix them. We’re going to need—”

  The rest of his reply was cut off by the ship shuddering around them for a second time. Looking up from the tactical station, Riker saw the planet displayed on the main viewscreen, apparently still caught in the midst of the dimensional shift, beginning to quiver again, and he was sure the planet was faded enough for him to see through it to the rest of the nebula and the partially obscured stars behind it.

  “It’s happening again!” said Crusher.

  Data added, “Quantum energy readings are intensifying as before. A dimensional shift is imminent.”

  From the ops station, Worf called, “Routing emergency power to the shields.”

  The extra effort seemed to do nothing to alleviate the pounding the Enterprise was forced to absorb as a renewed wave of unleashed energy collided against the starship’s deflector shields. Riker had just enough time to grab on to the railing before everything rocked to starboard, and he felt himself collide with Yar. The security chief had one hand locked on the railing above her station and had anchored her knee beneath the console to maintain her balance.

  “Remind me to ask for a chair up here,” she said.

  Ignoring her remark, Riker ordered, “Conn, get us out of here!”

  His hands moving across his instruments, Crusher shook his head. “I can’t break us free, Captain. Helm is not responding!”

  When the lights faded this time, they remained out, and backup illumination was even slower to respond. Warning tones erupted from every console on the bridge as the deck disappeared from beneath Riker’s feet, and he felt himself slam chest first into the railing. Yar’s valiant effort to maintain her footing failed her as well, and he saw the lieutenant thrown over her station and down to the chairs in the command area. She landed hard and clumsily, and Riker heard her cry of pain even as Data and Deanna pushed themselves from their chairs to help her.

  “Shields are failing!” reported La Forge.

  He started to say something else, but Riker could not hear him over the sound of rushing air that assaulted his ears. In front of him, Worf and Crusher along with the front of the bridge seemed to stretch away from him, and everything was bathed in a blinding white light. Riker reached up to shield his eyes, waiting for the effect to pass, but it only strengthened to the point that he thought he might pass out from the sensory overload.

  And then . . .

  16

  HERE

  U.S.S. Enterprise-E

  Awareness returned, and with it the realization that every bone in his body seemed to hurt. With great reluctance, Picard opened his eyes to find himself looking up at the bridge overhead, and his wife staring down at him.

  “Welcome back,” said Beverly Crusher.

  “Where did I go?” Blinking several times in rapid succession, Picard raised his head enough to note that he was lying on the carpet in front of his chair. His forehead throbbed with a dull ache that was only slightly more pronounced than the discomfort racking the rest of his body. What had happened? Looking around, he saw Lieutenant Aneta Šmrhová kneeling on his opposite side, her expression one of concern.

  “We were hit by a massive rush of quantum energy when the planet reappeared,” replied the security chief. “You were thrown from your chair, sir. Commander La Forge and Lieutenant Elfiki took nasty tumbles, too.”

  “I sent them to sickbay,” said Beverly. “He managed to break his ankle, and she has a broken wrist, but it’s nothing we can’t fix. They’ll both be back in no time. There were a handful of injuries around the ship, but nothing serious, thankfully.”

  Allowing Šmrhová to assist him to his feet, Picard offered her a nod of thanks before asking, “Status?” Even as he asked the question, he took in the sight of the planet now centered on the bridge’s forward viewscreen. With the brilliant violet and magenta hues of NGC 8541 serving as its backdrop, the cold, gray world somehow appeared almost beautiful. “Have you been able to contact the away team?”

  “Not yet, sir,” replied Šmrhová. “Quantum energy readings near the surface are still elevated to the point that they’re interfering with our communications. I’m working with engineering to figure out a solution, but we got hammered pretty hard, and they’re up to their eyeballs in repairs. Commander La Forge is coordinating everything from sickbay.”

  Picard could not help the small smile that escaped his lips. “Of course he is.” Though not completely satisfied with the report, he knew that his people were—as always—giving their best effort, and time would be needed to carry out the various tasks requiring attention. Still, he could not help thinking of Worf and the others, still marooned on a planet that might disappear before their very eyes yet again.

  “Glinn Dygan,” he said, noting that the Cardassian had returned to his place at the ops position. “The effect of the planet’s reappearance seemed rather more forceful than our sensor data indicated should happen.”

  Turning in his seat, Dygan replied, “That is correct, sir. The surge of quantum energy accompanying the planet’s return to this dimension far exceeded even our most generous estimates. The result was an enormous surge of energy that overloaded our deflector shields before proceeding to affect the ship itself. Several systems were impacted, including sensors and propulsion. Engineering reports they had to deactivate the warp drive so that they could inspect the antimatter containment system. Our shields remain inactive, and there are even issues with our weapons control systems.”

  Picard grimaced. Without the warp drive, the ship would be relying on the impulse engines to provide power for onboard systems, which might mean compromises and prioritization of resources.

  One thing at a time, Captain. Let your people work.

  Next to Dygan, Lieutenant Joanna Faur said, “Helm is sluggish, Captain. I’m still trying to figure out if the problem is with the engines themselves, or just the power disruption we
’re experiencing.”

  “It is likely that the numerous overloads are the primary cause.” Even as Dygan spoke, two sections of his ops console that had been dark and inert came back to life, accompanied by a string of indicator tones.

  “It seems Mister La Forge is doing a fine job coordinating his people,” said Picard, reaching up to rub his forehead. The ache, though sharp, was an irritant more than anything else.

  “Are you all right?” asked Crusher. “I’ve already addressed the contusion, so there won’t be any bruising, and I can give you something for the pain.”

  His first impulse was to decline the officer, but the sensation of weariness that continued to linger gave him second thoughts. Still rubbing his temples, he replied, “Perhaps that would be prudent, Doctor.”

  “And here I thought you were going to resist me so that you could look brave and invincible to your crew.” Smiling, Crusher pressed a hypospray to the side of his neck and Picard felt the push of air as whatever medication she had chosen was injected into his bloodstream. It took only seconds for the treatment to assert itself, and he closed his eyes for a moment as the sensation of great weight upon his head and neck seemed to evaporate.

  “Much better. Thank you.” Pulling on the bottom of his uniform jacket, Picard said, “Please tend to the other injured and keep me informed as to their status.”

  “Of course, Captain, and you let me know if you have any further discomfort.” Though Crusher kept her demeanor professional, there was no denying the concern in her voice, which he knew went beyond the extraordinary compassion she felt for anyone in her care.

  “Understood, Doctor.” Picard punctuated his reply with a smile that seemed to assure her, and after collecting her medical kit she disappeared into the turbolift at the rear of the bridge.

  Looking around at the rest of his officers, he observed that several of the perimeter stations that had been dark were coming back to life, their individual interfaces restarting and reconnecting to the Enterprise’s main computer. At the science console, he saw that Lieutenant Paabell had arrived to take over for Lieutenant Elfiki. A Capellan male, Paabell had an imposing build that made Picard sure the lieutenant could rip through his Starfleet uniform merely by flexing his pronounced muscles. The captain also knew that harbored within Paabell’s daunting physique was a keen intelligence, as evidenced by his Academy test scores and the recommendation from the commanding officer and science officer of his previous starship posting, the U.S.S. Hayabusa.