Chapter Four
Space is deceptive in many ways. Take for example its apparent emptiness. In the void between suns and planets lies a vast expanse of dark matter. Almost 70% of the Universe is made up of this unique material which, to a point, still defies analysis.
Even more deceptive is that which lies beyond ‘space’; beyond the boundaries of what we perceive to be our Universe exists a multitude of other realities. Some are surprisingly like our own both in content and history while others are so different that we wouldn’t recognise them as realities at all.
It is a rare occurrence for the barrier between these realities and ours to be breached in any way and yet ‘rare’ does not preclude the possibility of such an event. It has happened many times, sometimes without witness in the quiet depths of intergalactic space but occasionally where sentient life not only bore witness to the event, but actively participated in the subsequent proceedings.
And it is now, within a confine of Federation space known as the Delta Triangle, that our reality is coming into contact with one such ‘other’ reality. Given time and a lack of external input, this contact will do nothing more than perhaps cause a wrinkle in the surface of our continuity.
DeVille stood on the shaded edge of the small copse gazing across the open, sunlit meadow. In the distance he could see the low lying spread of buildings that he recognised so well, the twin rows of shining corn silos reflecting the noonday sun in a blinding array of rainbow colours.
Right on cue, he heard the sound of approaching hooves at the south end of the meadow. Turning, he shielded his eyes against the glare from above and spotted the horse as it galloped towards the gate and raised his hand to wave, but the rider appeared not to notice him.
He tried to move forward into the light but found his feet immobile and when he looked down he saw that the roots of the outlying trees had surfaced to wrap themselves like shackles around his lower legs.
Panic drove him to shout, or at least attempt to, but he found himself unable to articulate a single sound. In his head he heard the words, as he always did of course.
Stop! Go back, don’t come into the meadow! Elizabeth!
It served no purpose as the horse continued its gallop towards the field. In a giant leap it cleared the five bar gate and landed perfectly before the young girl reined it in. She slapped it on the neck and the horse whinnied in pleasure.
Knowing he couldn’t shout or move forward, he once again tried to wave, but now his arms were as tethered as his feet. Brambles, undergrowth, vines all snagged at him, drawing his arms to his sides and relentlessly pulling him back into the shade of the tree line.
No! Elizabeth, stay away!
It was useless as the horse was nudged into a canter. Deville tried to close his eyes, not wishing to witness again the death of his daughter as he had so many times, but as always his eyes remained open.
He watched like a ghost as the horse gathered speed towards the far end of the meadow and it seemed as if a cloud passed across the sun.
Odd, he mused,
there had been no clouds moments before. Then the strangest thing happened.
Elizabeth waved towards him.
“Daddy! Look! Jamboree’s leg is healed!”
He wanted to scream and laugh and close his eyes and yet feast on the vision of his daughter calling to him, all at the same time. He could do none of these things though, anchored as he was by the living wall of greenery behind and around him. Instead he waited for what he expected to be the horrific climax of the scene…
…which never arrived.
“Come on Daddy, stop being so slow!” Elizabeth’s laugh was like water over a brook. Tinkling, full of mischief.
This is wrong! He wanted to scream.
This is not how it happened!
He leaned forward with all his strength and began tearing at the growth that bound him motionless in his dream. Arms first, and then legs, slowly became untangled until eventually he fell to his hands and knees to crawl out into the light of day.
Off in the distance, he could see the horse carrying Elizabeth nearing the safety of his sister’s farm and he tried once more to call to her.
“Elizabeth! Wait, I’m here!”
This time his voice rang out loud and clear across the sun warmed fields but a moment later it was drowned out by something louder and more strident. He clutched his hands to his ears to block out the sound but it was of little use. Knowing that Elizabeth could never have heard him above the banshee wail that pierced his brain he turned his eyes skyward to rail at whichever deity had decided to take this moment from him…
…and fell out of a mess of tangled bedding to land face first on the floor. Around him, dim red satanic lighting proclaimed what his ears were now telling him as the red alert klaxon blared once more.
“All hands to battle stations! This is not a drill! All hands to battle stations!”
Dragging his sweating body to a standing position, he steadied himself momentarily against the wall. When he checked the chronometer by his bed, he realised he’d slept for just two hours although it felt much longer. For now, he allowed the memory of Elizabeth to reluctantly fade into his subconscious as he staggered around his quarters attempting to don his uniform.
Time later for memories he winced before dashing out into the busy corridor.
Aster turned as DeVille emerged from the turbolift behind her. She noticed he looked somewhat bedraggled but at least appeared alert.
“Captain! Storm now closing to 50,000 kilometres and Delta Two is still not responding!”
“Loadmaster!” she shouted above the din. “Prepare to cut Delta Two free if there’s no response in the next thirty seconds!”
“What’s happening Allie?” DeVille grabbed the back of the centre seat as the ship trembled slightly.
She pointed to the screen as if her anger could have reached through it and halted the oncoming menace.
“It’s the ion storm. God knows how or why but it’s swung round on a direct heading towards us. Delta Two isn’t responding and we’re going to have to…”
Before she could finish the sentence the Loadmaster called out from her left.
“Got it Captain! Delta Two is responding and coming alongside.”
Delta Two was the second of the two cargo drones that were controlled remotely from the bridge of the
Atlas.
“Helm, move us out, warp three, heading 270 mark 15.”
“270 mark 15, warp three aye, Captain.”
DeVille had briefly stepped over to the Loadmaster’s station and was inspecting the readouts on Delta Two. Something was certainly amiss but there was no definitive pattern to it. As he felt the increased vibration through his boots he looked up to see the stars elongate into the computer generated vision of warp.
“Science,” he barked feeling it was about time he became of some use to his captain, “sensor scan and tell me what’s happening with that storm front. Engineering, I want a rapid diagnostic on the bay three duotronics controlling Delta Two.”
As he stepped back down to the command well, he leaned in close to Aster.
“How the hell did that thing change course like that?”
Aster grimaced as she glanced around the bridge. “I’ll add that to the list of questions I can answer ‘don’t know’ to.”
It wasn’t out of the question for an ion storm to change course, sometimes even unexpectedly, but to do so this rapidly was unheard of.
“Captain?” Price at the helm looked worried but was obviously making an effort to conceal it.
“What is it Mr Price?”
“We’re maintaining warp three and at that we’re just keeping an edge on the storm. I’ve never seen one react like this before!”
Aster knew Price had an excellent record but a relatively short career span and it was noticeable in the slight crack in his voice.
“There’s a first for everything Mr Price, just stay on top of it.” Her voice was much calmer than she felt but it seemed to have a steadying effect on the young officer.
While the red alert sirens on the bridge and in the turbolifts were automatically silenced after thirty seconds at Aster’s instigation, the low level red lighting was maintained. It cast the faces of those at their posts on the bridge into grim relief as each crew member attended to their station. The ship shook and vibrated as it rode the leading edge of the storm. Aster glanced back over her right shoulder to the science station.
“Mr Skell, anything?”
The young Vulcan peered into his hooded viewer whilst deftly operating controls on his board.
“Storm appears to be weakening in intensity Captain but speed has not decreased. Just for information Captain we will cross the boundary into the Delta Triangle in 72 seconds.”
Aster glanced to her left and caught the same worried expression on DeVille’s face that she was certain was on her own at that moment.
“Extreme caution then Mr Price, Mr Skell, keep your eyes peeled!”
Other than a raised eyebrow at his captain’s comment, Skell immersed himself in the sensor hood once more wondering just how many human aphorisms he would have to master before he could communicate precisely with the crew.
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