Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow Read online

  Jodis ordered everyone to finalize their preparations for entering the suspension cradles, then stood in silence as Neline completed the process of applying the sensors to his skin. He felt the throes of the ship around him as—guided by the onboard computer—it fought to keep its attackers at bay and give him and his crew sufficient time to complete these final tasks.

  Once she was finished, the medical specialist waved him to his own cylinder before she and Rilajor began readying themselves, but Jodis took the brief opportunity to scan the status monitors Ehondar had left active on the nearby workstation. The reports were worrisome, but there now was nothing he could do to affect the situation. Regardless of the outcome, he and his crew were committed to their current course of action.

  “Jodis, it is time,” said Bnira from behind him, and he turned to face her. There was nothing more they could do, except trust the ship and its computer to carry out the tasks for which they had been created. Chief among those responsibilities was the care and safety of the crew that soon would trust their lives to this collection of machines.

  Reaching for her hand, Jodis pulled Bnira close enough so that he could stroke the side of her face. She smiled, mimicking the gesture. Their relationship had evolved far beyond the tenets of commander and crew owing to the long periods spent ensconced in rigorous training. The strict need for secrecy had seen to it that the eight members of the Poklori gil dara’s crew were forced to work and live only with one another, so it was natural that bonds would form. Though counselors had warned of the dangers of such affairs, Jodis and the others paid such cautions no heed. After all, they had no one else.

  “I hope yours is the first face I see upon waking,” Bnira said.

  Jodis smiled. “I look forward to that.”

  At another console, Neline, nude and with a set of sensors now affixed to her own body, touched several controls in rapid succession before moving from the station and to her own suspension cradle. A mechanical voice began reciting a numeric sequence in descending order.

  Lying prone in his own cradle, Jodis watched as the transparent cylinder closed and sealed around him before a slight hiss echoed within the closed compartment as the programmed sequence of cryogenic vapors was introduced. Beyond the clear barrier, the now muffled voice of the computer was continuing its countdown. He turned his head and saw the rest of his crew, each of them ensconced in their own cradles, their interiors clouding up with the gases and other compounds necessary to induce hibernation.

  A tremendous jolt rocked the entire ship, eliciting a host of new alarms and other warnings from the workstations positioned around the room, but by now Jodis could only lie motionless and wait. Outside his cradle, the computer counted down the few remaining linzatu, and as the inescapable tendrils of induced suspension embraced him, his final thoughts turned to the mission that still lay ahead of them.

  There will be no war.

  NOW

  3

  “You want to know the problem with going somewhere no one’s ever been? It takes so damned long to get there.”

  Sitting at a table near one of the forward viewing ports of the Enterprise’s crew lounge, Lieutenant T’Ryssa Chen smiled as she watched her dining companion, Lieutenant Commander Taurik, look up from his breakfast of mixed fruits and regard her with the Vulcan equivalent of a perplexed expression, which consisted of him cocking his right eyebrow. For a moment, Chen was certain she had prompted a lecture on the nature of vast interstellar distances and the limited capabilities of modern vessels to traverse such expanses. Instead, Taurik’s reply was far more understated.

  “Indeed.”

  His response only made Chen’s grin widen. “That’s it? ‘Indeed’? I lob an easy setup like that, and all you give me is ‘Indeed’? You’re not even trying.”

  Despite his self-discipline, she still saw the faintest tease of a smile tug at the corners of Taurik’s mouth. “I saw no reason to refute your statement. Though colloquially stated, your observation is valid.” Then, as if remembering his role in whatever game she seemed bound to involve him in on this occasion, he added, “I should think that you in particular would be excited at the potential our mission carries.”

  Here we go, Chen mused, claiming victory. “Me in particular?”

  Taurik nodded. “You are a contact specialist. With few exceptions, our assignments since your arrival aboard the Enterprise have not provided you with many opportunities to perform the duties for which you were trained. Our current mission promises to offer at least some prospects for making first contact with new civilizations.” He returned his attention to his meal, but only for a moment before adding, “I am happy for you, T’Ryssa.”

  “You’re happy?” Chen caught herself, realizing her voice had raised in volume enough to attract glances from crew members at nearby tables. For his part, Taurik seemed unperturbed by her near outburst. “You’re happy?” she pressed. “You’ve been hanging around me too much.”

  Without hesitation, the engineer replied, “It is not unreasonable to hypothesize that prolonged contact with you may be inflicting as yet unidentified effects on my thought processes, emotional reactions, and responses to various external stimuli.”

  Chen bobbed her eyebrows. “Tell me more about the various external stimuli.”

  After glancing around them as though confirming that no one was overhearing their conversation, Taurik leaned closer. “No, I do not believe that I will.”

  “Then I’ll just have to come up with my own.” Chen eyed him with no small amount of mischief.

  Taurik used his fork to spear a piece of yellow-orange fruit she could not identify. “I suspect that your imagination will provide no small number of possibilities,” he said, before bringing the fruit to his mouth. He punctuated the remark with another lifting of his eyebrow, a simple gesture that threatened to send Chen into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

  Teasing and—occasionally—even flirting with the Vulcan engineer had long ago become one of her favorite hobbies, though it really had become fun only after Taurik began playing along. Despite the composed façade and rigid emotional discipline expected of anyone possessing their joint heritage, and which Chen herself tended to eschew, he harbored a gentle and even shrewd sense of humor and wit. She found those traits appealing, even alluring, and it was but one of many reasons she had come to admire him in the time they had known each other. This remained true even after their brief, clumsy attempt at a more intimate relationship before settling into a comfortable, mutually respectful friendship.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  It took Chen a moment to realize Taurik was talking to her, and that she had allowed herself to become lost in a host of pleasing memories. Feeling her cheeks warm in embarrassment, she reached for the glass of water next to her plate.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said before sipping her water.

  “According to Commander La Forge,” Taurik said, changing the subject, “you are assigned to engineering today.”

  “Looks that way,” Chen replied. “I volunteered to run level one diagnostics on the shuttlecraft and install software upgrades to their onboard computers. According to Commander La Forge, it’s time for it to be done, and will probably take a few days to complete.” She shrugged. “Fine by me. At least it’s something constructive to do.” Waving toward the forward viewing ports and the kaleidoscopic maelstrom of stars streaking past as the Enterprise pushed through space at high warp speed, she added, “At least until we get where we’re going, anyway.”

  For Chen, the prospect of the Enterprise’s chief engineer assigning her to several duty shifts’ worth of meaningful if not glamorous work was not an issue. She long ago had grown accustomed to such realities, given the obvious lack of need for a contact specialist during the bulk of her tenure aboard ship. Choosing to view the situation as a chance to expand her skills and experience in a variety of areas
and disciplines, Chen had volunteered to assist any department that requested additional personnel, for whatever tasks that might entail. Since arriving on the Enterprise, she had acquired hands-on training in nearly every major system, from the main computer to the warp drive and everything in between.

  She had received plenty of opportunities, as only on rare occasions had her specific job role and accompanying training and skills been called into action. Such was the case, she knew, with contact specialists on any number of starships, as much of Starfleet’s resources in the wake of the final Borg Invasion of the Alpha Quadrant focused on rebuilding efforts on worlds across the Federation. To that end, Captain Picard and the Enterprise had been assigned a variety of missions during the ensuing three years that had called upon everything from the captain’s diplomatic expertise to the military capabilities of the starship itself, particularly with the rise of the Typhon Pact and the rapid spread of its influence. Though casting itself as an “alternative” for nonaligned worlds seeking the security to be found in a larger community, the unlikely alliance of six interstellar powers—the Romulans, Gorn, Tholians, Breen, Tzenkethi, and the Kinshaya—had since its forming caused no end of strife for the Federation.

  One of the Pact’s earliest victories had come from stealing top-secret schematics for slipstream drive technology from the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards. Although the damage from that theft ultimately had been mitigated, it showed that the Pact was not a rival to be underestimated or trusted. Later, the Tholians’ cast Starfleet and the Federation as willing to stand by and allow the Andorians to suffer extinction rather than offer classified data that might save their endangered civilization. This had resulted in Andor’s unsettling—though temporary—secession from the Federation, which it had helped found more than two centuries earlier.

  In and around these and other events, Captain Picard and the Enterprise had undertaken a handful of missions that dealt in one manner or another with the Pact or other issues plaguing the Federation, including the assassination of President Nanietta Bacco and the hunt for her killers. Following the exposing and arrest of those responsible for the heinous act, including no less than Ishan Anjar, the Bajoran official selected to serve as president pro tempore until a special election could be held to choose Bacco’s successor, there remained numerous issues requiring attention. Searching for anyone else who may have played a role in Bacco’s murder, as well as the ongoing concerns raised by the Typhon Pact, along with continuing the process of healing the rift between the worlds of the Federation and her allies, were just a few of the challenges faced by the new president, Kellessar zh’Tarash, and Starfleet.

  And yet, here we are, heading for the far end of nowhere.

  The Enterprise had spent weeks traveling at high warp, with the most exciting part of the transit for Chen being the deployment of subspace buoys that would aid in communicating with Starfleet Command. Now the starship was closing on the first of the star systems it was assigned to explore in this region beyond Federation territory, which until now had only been reconnoitered by automated survey drones. According to data collected by the probes, the system—designated as System 3955 in the stellar cartography database—contained two planets capable of sustaining life, as well as indications of intelligent, even advanced civilizations on both worlds. If they possessed faster-than-light propulsion technology, then chances were good that Captain Picard would initiate first contact procedures. This meant that Chen would be assigned to any away team sent to the surface to meet with representatives of whatever government or authorized body was honored to be the first to greet visitors to their world from beyond the stars. Chen could feel anticipation mounting at the prospect.

  “You appear preoccupied,” Taurik said, and when Chen looked up from her breakfast, she saw him studying her. How long had she been lost in thought? A glance to Taurik’s plate told her that it had been at least a few moments, as the Vulcan had finished his meal.

  “I’m sorry,” Chen replied. “I was just thinking again how it feels so odd for us to be out here when there’s still so much to do back home.” In truth, not a single day had passed since the Enterprise’s departure from Earth that she did not ponder their new assignment, and whether the ship, its crew, and in particular its captain were not better utilized elsewhere. Following the arrest of Ishan Anjar, Picard had notified Admirals Leonard James Akaar and William Riker of his concerns with Starfleet’s role as an instrument of Federation policy, and how more martial endeavors—though necessary—had threatened to supplant its primary charter of exploration and the expansion of knowledge. To the surprise of many, Picard had returned to the Enterprise not to announce his retirement or promotion and reassignment, but with orders directing the ship to a new region of space. After a few brief delays, owing mostly to requests from Admiral Riker for the Enterprise to assist in tasks requiring the special expertise of its captain and crew, the starship had departed the familiar cradle of Federation space in search of the unknown.

  “There are those who would say that the ideals upon which the Federation and Starfleet were founded have been tested,” Taurik said, “and that our ability and even willingness to honor those principles has fallen short. I believe that dispatching ships to undertake missions such as the one assigned to the Enterprise, along with the other initiatives President zh’Tarash has set into motion, will do much to dispel such perceptions.”

  Chen nodded. She had entertained similar thoughts, and it was comforting to hear Taurik give voice to them. If a buttoned-down, ever-logical Vulcan could see the good in what they were doing, then it had to be the correct course, right?

  I guess we’ll find out.

  The lounge’s casual atmosphere was interrupted by the familiar sound of an alert, and indicators mounted around the room began flashing in time to the new signal. Both Chen and Taurik, along with everyone around them, straightened in their seats and all of the various conversations died as a high-pitched tone was piped through the ship’s internal communications system.

  “This is the first officer,” said the voice of Commander Worf over the intercom. “The ship is now on yellow alert. This is not a drill. All personnel report to your stations. Captain Picard and senior staff officers, please report to the bridge. Lieutenant Chen, report to the bridge.”

  Hearing her name, Chen frowned. “Me?”

  “That is what the commander said,” Taurik replied.

  She tapped her combadge. “Chen to bridge. I’m on my way, Commander.” As Taurik rose from his seat, she added, “I guess I’m on my way to the bridge.”

  “I am going to engineering,” replied the Vulcan.

  As they moved toward the door, falling in with the rest of the officers and other crew members making their way from the lounge to their duty stations, Taurik said, “Perhaps this means the captain will have need of a contact specialist.”

  Forcing a smile, Chen shrugged. “And I was so looking forward to upgrading the shuttlecraft.”

  4

  Standing at the center of the Enterprise bridge, his arms folded across his chest, Captain Jean-Luc Picard studied the as yet unidentified object now displayed before him on the main viewscreen. That it was a vessel was obvious, given its smooth surface, straight lines, and sharp angles. Even from this distance, the image—as conveyed by long-range sensors—was clear enough that Picard could see seams where hull plates, shifting in color from gray to varying shades of amethyst, had been joined to the vessel’s enormous frame. Long and narrow, and possessing flared sections of curved hull segments extending outward from its tapered core, it resembled a wedge of sorts. Beginning with a giant, bell-shaped aft section, it narrowed almost to a point at its opposite end. An assortment of ports, hatches, protrusions, and other attachments festooned its hull on all sides. Weapons placements and what likely were maneuvering thrusters also were evident, positioned at regular intervals from bow to stern, including a massive circular p
ort at the very front of the ship. The craft appeared to be devoid of external light sources, its depiction made possible thanks to the Enterprise sensors and the main computer’s imaging software, and it was clear that the gargantuan vessel was adrift.

  “Long-range sensors first detected the vessel less than ten minutes ago,” said Commander Worf from where he stood before his seat next to Picard’s command chair. “We attempted to hail it on all frequencies, but we’ve received no response. No signs of propulsion are evident, and so far we’ve registered no life-form readings.” The first officer paused, and Picard noted the small gleam in the Klingon’s eyes. “I thought you might find it interesting, sir.”

  Picard smiled. “Something of an understatement, Number One.” Returning his gaze to the apparent derelict, he asked, “Have you completed your initial sensor sweep?” His attention now was focused on the numerous scorch marks, impacts, and breaks scattered across the ship’s hull, all evidence that the vessel had seen some form of combat.

  From where she sat at one of the science stations along the bridge’s starboard bulkhead, Lieutenant Dina Elfiki replied, “Yes, sir. Most of our scans are being disrupted, possibly from an unknown substance or material used in the vessel’s construction. The hull plates are a composite of what appears to be neutronium along with several other minerals we’ve never encountered.” After a moment, the science officer added, “We’ll know more after we get closer. For now, though, sensors are still picking up minor power readings. If I had to guess just based on the energy signature, I’d say it’s some form of backup system.”

  “It’s definitely adrift,” said Lieutenant Aneta Šmrhová, the Enterprise’s chief of security. “I’m not detecting any signs of propulsion.” Standing at her station behind Picard’s left shoulder, she tapped her console several times before adding, “So far, there’s no indication that it’s reacting to our presence.”