Very much enjoying this. Looks like the mystery will have to wait as another ship approaches and they seem none too friendly.
Star Trek: Eclipse
- Thread starter Bry_Sinclair
- Start date
Chapter 4
As a Federation-registered ship the Eclipse was committed to UFP standards, for engine emissions to crew welfare to emergency response. It was the responsibility of all Federation-registered ships to respond practicably to other vessels in distress, for some that would mean merely relaying the call to other ships in the area that could help but, for the likes of the Eclipse, they could offer whatever help they could.
However, even without the UFP code of conduct Nate Maguire would’ve altered their course and ordered maximum warp—he had never turned his back on anyone before, so wasn’t about to start now. As soon as he’d heard the message his mind had been made up. Ro had already tracked back the signal as best he could and had an approximate location for the ship, with the heading locked into the computer and just awaiting the order to engage. As soon as they were underway, Nate had made the announcement ship-wide, no doubt waking a few up, after which it hadn’t taken long for Zirayne and Kell to take their stations, whilst Telak, Jossa and Inaia reported in.
That just left Croft and Thorev unaccounted for, until now.
The doors parted and the pair stepped in, both looking somewhat tired—though he suspected they’d both been working in the lab since returning from Alpha III. Part of him was ready for an argument, though he knew Starfleeters were always ready and able to help those in need they were both on their own mission, one they couldn’t take too much time off from. He wasn’t entirely sure just what way this encounter would go.
“What is it?” Croft asked.
“A call for help from an unknown source,” he told her, holding her grey eyes.
The pair looked at each other then back at him. “What can we do?” she enquired stepping forward.
A smile tugged at his lips. “We could use an extra pair of hands up here and maybe some help on the rescue team—”
Before either of them could reply, Ro swung around to face him, a determined look on his goateed face. “Captain, I’d like to be on the team.”
Nate looked at his half-Klingon helmsman evenly. Ever since he’d reported the signal he’d been on edge, which was unusual for the typically laid back young man. True, the distorted voice had a powerful pull not even the most logical Vulcan wouldn’t have been affected by it, but something had clearly gotten a hold of Ro. Nate knew better than to try and talk him out of it, for as relaxed as he came off, Ro could also be incredibly stubborn.
His plan had been to take Kell and leave Ro with one of their Starfleet guests, but he had to admit the young man’s considerable physical strength and stamina could be of benefit depending on what they found. He could leave Kell in his place and rely on Telak for technical ability.
“Alright, you’ll be on the team,” he said to Ro, then turned back to Croft and Thorev. “Either of you a qualified pilot?”
“Basic skill set for all Starfleet personnel,” Croft pointed out. “Chief, I believe you certified as a level four pilot before we left.”
“I did indeed, Commander.”
Nate smiled at them, finding the overly-formal manner between the two of them to be highly amusing. Focusing on the Andorian, he gave him a single nod. “Alright, you’ll be covering the helm for Ro, which means Doctor you better make sure you’re prepped for an away team.”
“You can count on it, Captain.”
Thorev took the empty seat on the port side whilst Croft headed back down to B Deck, where the rest of the crew would be. He should’ve known that no matter how obsessed she may have been over finding answers, the humanitarian doctrine of Starfleet would’ve been so thoroughly ingrained that it would win out over all else. Though he’d never had any desire to enter Starfleet, he appreciated what it was they did at all levels—hell, he owed his life twice over to the Border Service, not to mention all the Fleet had sacrificed in the war against the Dominion.
“Captain,” stated Kell, drawing his attention, “I’ve got something on sensors along our current heading, just outside of Beta system.” She took a moment to study the readouts on her monitor. He knew it was best to let her work for a moment to gather all the facts she could. “It looks like a ship, though minimal energy readings and not much in the way of a metallic signature—looks like it might be comprised mostly of some sort of ceramic. It’s a little under twice our size, though the design doesn’t match anything in our library.”
“Life-signs?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell; there’s a lot of radiation coming from their damaged reactor.”
“Will that interfere with transporters?”
“Not on our end, though pattern enhancers may be an idea onboard that ship.”
“ETA?”
With the two systems being just over a third of a light-year apart and the Eclipse barrelling towards the ship in distress at warp eight-point-two, her maximum rated speed, Nate knew it wouldn’t take them long to reach their destination but he knew from personal experience just how bad it was to wait, never knowing if help was coming or not.
“Three hours five minutes at present speed,” Ro announced promptly.
Nate nodded but felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders tighten. They could maintain eight-point-two for ten hours before the engines would start to strain, so there was no problem with reaching the stricken ship in that time, but it would feel like an eternity for whoever was left onboard. In the past he’d pushed the ship even harder, peaking at 8.5, though that had left their warp coils in a sorry state and cost a small fortune to repair but out in the Cluster, months away from help, he couldn’t take the risk—no matter how much he may have wanted too.
He turned to tactical. “Zirayne, anyone else out there?”
“No other ships that I can see. No evidence of ion trails or impulse wakes either, though they would’ve dissipated after a few hours. Likewise weapon signatures.”
Nate leaned forward. “What’s our tactical situation like?”
She looked back at him with a knowing smile on her face—the Boslic didn’t go out looking for a fight, but when she got involved in one she was truly in her element. “Shields are at optimum and all phaser batteries are in excellent condition.”
“Raise shields, for all we know this could be an ambush.”
Zirayne glanced back at her console and tapped a short sequence, then turned back to him. “Shields up. Should I put phasers on standby?”
“Not until we’re closer. Keep an eye out for any kind of stealth or cloaking technology.”
“I always do,” she assured him.
He sat stationary for a moment. His bridge crew were on the ball, as always, they were still hours away from being able to do anything and he couldn’t just sit there and twiddle his thumbs. Quickly he stood, Zirayne still watching him.
“Bridge is yours,” he told her and headed for the exit.
Below him, he knew that Telak would be closely monitoring everything in the engine room, keeping their warp field stable and a watchful eye on all other systems, Jossa would be prepping the transporter room, and Inaia would be getting sickbay ready for casualties. Croft would be helping out somewhere, though just where he wasn’t sure, but he would muck in wherever he could.
With damage to the alien ships reactor and the radiation leak it had caused, whilst her low power emissions couldn’t guarantee life support throughout the larger ship, which meant they’d need spacesuits for an added layer of protection—just in case. Unfortunately, they were stored on the decks above and below the transporter room which, normally, wasn’t a problem as EVA was so rarely needed—though he’d have to see about getting somewhere handy to store a few suits on B Deck for their current job.
He headed for the airlocks on A Deck, just a few short corridors away from the bridge, in the dorsal spine of the Ju’day-Class. Each airlock had an adjacent compartment where EVA suits and hull maintenance equipment was stored, both identical to one another but like always he headed into one on his dominant side and turned right. As he stepped through the doors he almost walked straight into Doctor Croft, her arms laden with several suits and pairs of boots. He had to admit he was more than a little surprised to see her there.
“Great minds,” she said with a soft smile.
“Well I’m in very good company then,” he quipped, feeling a lopsided grin spreading. Thanks to his conversation with Zirayne a few days earlier, he was very aware of the strong emotions the pale-skinned Englishwoman stirred inside him and the problems they now caused him—whereas before he had simply enjoyed the times he’d seen and spoken with her without too much thought.
Damn you, Zira! he cursed his overly-perceptive first mate. He’d never had the greatest of luck with relationships, from several brief flings to a failed marriage (from which all he’d managed to keep was the Eclipse) he’d just never connected with anyone enough to make it last. Had he been a hopeless romantic he would’ve said he hadn’t found his ‘soul mate’ yet, but he suspected that the lieutenant commander wasn’t it either.
“How many have you got?” he asked, trying to focus on what she was doing rather that the woman herself.
“Four, minus the helmets.”
“Alright, I’ll grab the rest,” he said before slipping past her and into the locker room. He grabbed the last two suits, boots, gloves, and enviropacks, before adding the six helmets to the pile and stepping back into the corridor, where Croft stood waiting.
They headed for the stairs together, their pace slow so as to not drop anything.
“Have you managed to find out anything more about that ship?” she asked.
“Not much, there’s no record of anything like it in our database. Our initial hails weren’t received and it continues to broadcast every few minutes. We can’t even get any signs of life,” he told her as they started down the stairs. “How did you know we’d need the suits?”
“Seemed like a wise precaution, if nothing else. There’s no reason to suspect that life out in this region of the quadrant evolved in a ‘standard’ M-Class atmosphere. Before a transmission is badly garbled then the ship sending it must’ve sustained significant damage, so there is likely to be compromised sections.”
“Starfleet really does train its officers well.”
She smiled back. “We have to be ready for anything,” she hesitated a moment, which made him stop and look at her. “I’m actually surprised you’re taking such a big risk out here,” she admitted.
“Something you learn very quickly as a civvie in space, we have to rely on one another. If we don’t help the people on that ship then who will? Someday that might be us calling for help and you just have to hope that there will be someone else close by to offer it.”
“I hope that day never comes.”
“You and me both.”
Stepping onto B Deck, the transporter room was almost opposite the stairwell so they didn’t have far to go with the EVA gear. Entering the room, Jossa was at the controls and seemed surprised to see them both enter burdened with the suits.
“Thanks, you saved me a couple of trips,” he told them with a grin.
“Don’t worry; you’ll be putting them back when we’re done.”
“I knew it was too good to last.”
Nate set his suits down on the deck and moved over to the console, whilst Croft arranged them into six neat piles.
“How’s it looking?”
“We’re good to go, Cap.”
“Good. Kell said that we may need pattern enhancers over there.”
“I’ll get them ready and give the suits a once over a well.”
“Thanks Jossa.” He turned back to Croft. “Care to lend a hand getting the field equipment together?”
“Lead the way.”
* * * * *
“Approaching co-ordinates,” Ro announced from the helm.
The bridge was fuller than usual, with Maguire, Zirayne, Kell and Ro all at their customary places, as well as Thorev and Croft hovering about, whilst Telak at the port engineering/science station (Jossa and Inaia would both be in the transporter room monitoring from there). They all paused in what they were doing and looked at the Captain.
He leant forward slightly. “Drop us out of warp. Full scan.”
With a sense of quiet pride, Telak noted the smooth deceleration of the ships main engines whilst the impulse drive kicked in to stabilise their momentum and propel them forward at sublight speeds. He wasn’t an arrogant man, a trait often attributed to Romulans, but his work was his life and he wanted to let it speak for itself—which was difficult in a ship with as many light-years on the clock as the Eclipse had, but that just made the challenge more worthwhile to undertake.
“I’ve got the ship, dead ahead,” stated Ro.
Telak often wondered what outsiders thought of their little crew, especially the fact that there was a full-blooded Romulan and a half-Klingon working together in such close quarters. Fortunately Ro had as much disdain for Klingon tradition as he did for his own, which allowed them both to look past what their respective cultures told them they should think of each other and instead deal with the other as a person. Ro may have been a little overly boisterous at times and something of a thrill seeker, but at his heart he was a big softie and very technically minded—especially when it came to warp drives.
“No other ships within sensor range,” Zirayne told the assembled crew, her fingers never far from the targeting controls.
“The ship has suffered heavy damage, with multiple hull breaches—almost every deck is exposed to hard vacuum. I have got one pressurised area on their third deck, but temperature is low and I’m not showing much of an atmosphere. I’m only registering minimal battery power. Sensor resolution is better at this range, but I’m still not detecting any life-signs,” said Kell, her tone sombre.
Maguire looked around at all those who would be on the rescue team, all of whom were already partially in their spacesuits (their gloves, enviropacks and helmets were waiting for them down in the transporter room). “Alright, we’ll split into three pairs, cover more ground that way. Zirayne, you and Telak will take the lower levels. See if you can assess the extent of the damage, and try to establish some power to their systems.”
Telak looked across at the Boslic and nodded. He’d already made sure to have a couple of power cells ready to beam over for such a job.
“Ro, you and Inaia will take the habitable area; if there are any survivors onboard that’s where they’ll be. Doctor, you and I will be on the upper levels. We’ll see about accessing their computer systems, so we can at least contact their homeworld and informing them about what happened to their ship. Maintain open comms with the each other and the ship. Kell, keep an eye on everything from here.”
“You got it,” the ops manager assured him.
“I never doubt it. Let’s get going.”
As he, Maguire, Ro and Zirayne rose from their seats, Croft was already heading out the exit. Thorev stood to the side to let them pass. Telak gave the bearded Andorian a wary glance, who returned it with a faint smile. The scientist was definitely an odd one. Telak had never had any interaction with Starfleet before, though of course he knew about them and their ways, but he couldn’t tell if Thorev was being overly nice and interested due to his training or if that was just his way—he had definitely integrated in well with the rest of the crew.
He shook his head as he stepped into the corridor; this wasn’t the time to dwell on the attentions of one of their passengers, not when he was about to step into the unknown. In an orderly manner they reached the transporter room and got the rest of their suits on, all carrying a sidearm and scanner, whilst various pieces of equipment was ready to be loaded onto the platform and beamed over with them. Jossa stood at the controls listening as Maguire explained what the plan was.
“Got it,” he confirmed with a nod, just before the console beeped. “We’ve entered transporter range.”
“Right, Ro and Inaia are first.”
The towering helmsman and diminutive medic stepped up onto the dais. As soon as Ro nodded they were enveloped in a shimmering blue haze before they disappeared. There was a pause before the controls chirped cheerfully.
“Ro to transporter room. We’re onboard.”
Without Maguire saying another word, Zirayne picked up one of the power cells and stepped up. He grabbed the other and set it in place, then moved to one of the two pads at the front of the chamber, Zirayne next him, her hand firmly on her weapon.
“Energise.”
* * * * *
As a Federation-registered ship the Eclipse was committed to UFP standards, for engine emissions to crew welfare to emergency response. It was the responsibility of all Federation-registered ships to respond practicably to other vessels in distress, for some that would mean merely relaying the call to other ships in the area that could help but, for the likes of the Eclipse, they could offer whatever help they could.
However, even without the UFP code of conduct Nate Maguire would’ve altered their course and ordered maximum warp—he had never turned his back on anyone before, so wasn’t about to start now. As soon as he’d heard the message his mind had been made up. Ro had already tracked back the signal as best he could and had an approximate location for the ship, with the heading locked into the computer and just awaiting the order to engage. As soon as they were underway, Nate had made the announcement ship-wide, no doubt waking a few up, after which it hadn’t taken long for Zirayne and Kell to take their stations, whilst Telak, Jossa and Inaia reported in.
That just left Croft and Thorev unaccounted for, until now.
The doors parted and the pair stepped in, both looking somewhat tired—though he suspected they’d both been working in the lab since returning from Alpha III. Part of him was ready for an argument, though he knew Starfleeters were always ready and able to help those in need they were both on their own mission, one they couldn’t take too much time off from. He wasn’t entirely sure just what way this encounter would go.
“What is it?” Croft asked.
“A call for help from an unknown source,” he told her, holding her grey eyes.
The pair looked at each other then back at him. “What can we do?” she enquired stepping forward.
A smile tugged at his lips. “We could use an extra pair of hands up here and maybe some help on the rescue team—”
Before either of them could reply, Ro swung around to face him, a determined look on his goateed face. “Captain, I’d like to be on the team.”
Nate looked at his half-Klingon helmsman evenly. Ever since he’d reported the signal he’d been on edge, which was unusual for the typically laid back young man. True, the distorted voice had a powerful pull not even the most logical Vulcan wouldn’t have been affected by it, but something had clearly gotten a hold of Ro. Nate knew better than to try and talk him out of it, for as relaxed as he came off, Ro could also be incredibly stubborn.
His plan had been to take Kell and leave Ro with one of their Starfleet guests, but he had to admit the young man’s considerable physical strength and stamina could be of benefit depending on what they found. He could leave Kell in his place and rely on Telak for technical ability.
“Alright, you’ll be on the team,” he said to Ro, then turned back to Croft and Thorev. “Either of you a qualified pilot?”
“Basic skill set for all Starfleet personnel,” Croft pointed out. “Chief, I believe you certified as a level four pilot before we left.”
“I did indeed, Commander.”
Nate smiled at them, finding the overly-formal manner between the two of them to be highly amusing. Focusing on the Andorian, he gave him a single nod. “Alright, you’ll be covering the helm for Ro, which means Doctor you better make sure you’re prepped for an away team.”
“You can count on it, Captain.”
Thorev took the empty seat on the port side whilst Croft headed back down to B Deck, where the rest of the crew would be. He should’ve known that no matter how obsessed she may have been over finding answers, the humanitarian doctrine of Starfleet would’ve been so thoroughly ingrained that it would win out over all else. Though he’d never had any desire to enter Starfleet, he appreciated what it was they did at all levels—hell, he owed his life twice over to the Border Service, not to mention all the Fleet had sacrificed in the war against the Dominion.
“Captain,” stated Kell, drawing his attention, “I’ve got something on sensors along our current heading, just outside of Beta system.” She took a moment to study the readouts on her monitor. He knew it was best to let her work for a moment to gather all the facts she could. “It looks like a ship, though minimal energy readings and not much in the way of a metallic signature—looks like it might be comprised mostly of some sort of ceramic. It’s a little under twice our size, though the design doesn’t match anything in our library.”
“Life-signs?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell; there’s a lot of radiation coming from their damaged reactor.”
“Will that interfere with transporters?”
“Not on our end, though pattern enhancers may be an idea onboard that ship.”
“ETA?”
With the two systems being just over a third of a light-year apart and the Eclipse barrelling towards the ship in distress at warp eight-point-two, her maximum rated speed, Nate knew it wouldn’t take them long to reach their destination but he knew from personal experience just how bad it was to wait, never knowing if help was coming or not.
“Three hours five minutes at present speed,” Ro announced promptly.
Nate nodded but felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders tighten. They could maintain eight-point-two for ten hours before the engines would start to strain, so there was no problem with reaching the stricken ship in that time, but it would feel like an eternity for whoever was left onboard. In the past he’d pushed the ship even harder, peaking at 8.5, though that had left their warp coils in a sorry state and cost a small fortune to repair but out in the Cluster, months away from help, he couldn’t take the risk—no matter how much he may have wanted too.
He turned to tactical. “Zirayne, anyone else out there?”
“No other ships that I can see. No evidence of ion trails or impulse wakes either, though they would’ve dissipated after a few hours. Likewise weapon signatures.”
Nate leaned forward. “What’s our tactical situation like?”
She looked back at him with a knowing smile on her face—the Boslic didn’t go out looking for a fight, but when she got involved in one she was truly in her element. “Shields are at optimum and all phaser batteries are in excellent condition.”
“Raise shields, for all we know this could be an ambush.”
Zirayne glanced back at her console and tapped a short sequence, then turned back to him. “Shields up. Should I put phasers on standby?”
“Not until we’re closer. Keep an eye out for any kind of stealth or cloaking technology.”
“I always do,” she assured him.
He sat stationary for a moment. His bridge crew were on the ball, as always, they were still hours away from being able to do anything and he couldn’t just sit there and twiddle his thumbs. Quickly he stood, Zirayne still watching him.
“Bridge is yours,” he told her and headed for the exit.
Below him, he knew that Telak would be closely monitoring everything in the engine room, keeping their warp field stable and a watchful eye on all other systems, Jossa would be prepping the transporter room, and Inaia would be getting sickbay ready for casualties. Croft would be helping out somewhere, though just where he wasn’t sure, but he would muck in wherever he could.
With damage to the alien ships reactor and the radiation leak it had caused, whilst her low power emissions couldn’t guarantee life support throughout the larger ship, which meant they’d need spacesuits for an added layer of protection—just in case. Unfortunately, they were stored on the decks above and below the transporter room which, normally, wasn’t a problem as EVA was so rarely needed—though he’d have to see about getting somewhere handy to store a few suits on B Deck for their current job.
He headed for the airlocks on A Deck, just a few short corridors away from the bridge, in the dorsal spine of the Ju’day-Class. Each airlock had an adjacent compartment where EVA suits and hull maintenance equipment was stored, both identical to one another but like always he headed into one on his dominant side and turned right. As he stepped through the doors he almost walked straight into Doctor Croft, her arms laden with several suits and pairs of boots. He had to admit he was more than a little surprised to see her there.
“Great minds,” she said with a soft smile.
“Well I’m in very good company then,” he quipped, feeling a lopsided grin spreading. Thanks to his conversation with Zirayne a few days earlier, he was very aware of the strong emotions the pale-skinned Englishwoman stirred inside him and the problems they now caused him—whereas before he had simply enjoyed the times he’d seen and spoken with her without too much thought.
Damn you, Zira! he cursed his overly-perceptive first mate. He’d never had the greatest of luck with relationships, from several brief flings to a failed marriage (from which all he’d managed to keep was the Eclipse) he’d just never connected with anyone enough to make it last. Had he been a hopeless romantic he would’ve said he hadn’t found his ‘soul mate’ yet, but he suspected that the lieutenant commander wasn’t it either.
“How many have you got?” he asked, trying to focus on what she was doing rather that the woman herself.
“Four, minus the helmets.”
“Alright, I’ll grab the rest,” he said before slipping past her and into the locker room. He grabbed the last two suits, boots, gloves, and enviropacks, before adding the six helmets to the pile and stepping back into the corridor, where Croft stood waiting.
They headed for the stairs together, their pace slow so as to not drop anything.
“Have you managed to find out anything more about that ship?” she asked.
“Not much, there’s no record of anything like it in our database. Our initial hails weren’t received and it continues to broadcast every few minutes. We can’t even get any signs of life,” he told her as they started down the stairs. “How did you know we’d need the suits?”
“Seemed like a wise precaution, if nothing else. There’s no reason to suspect that life out in this region of the quadrant evolved in a ‘standard’ M-Class atmosphere. Before a transmission is badly garbled then the ship sending it must’ve sustained significant damage, so there is likely to be compromised sections.”
“Starfleet really does train its officers well.”
She smiled back. “We have to be ready for anything,” she hesitated a moment, which made him stop and look at her. “I’m actually surprised you’re taking such a big risk out here,” she admitted.
“Something you learn very quickly as a civvie in space, we have to rely on one another. If we don’t help the people on that ship then who will? Someday that might be us calling for help and you just have to hope that there will be someone else close by to offer it.”
“I hope that day never comes.”
“You and me both.”
Stepping onto B Deck, the transporter room was almost opposite the stairwell so they didn’t have far to go with the EVA gear. Entering the room, Jossa was at the controls and seemed surprised to see them both enter burdened with the suits.
“Thanks, you saved me a couple of trips,” he told them with a grin.
“Don’t worry; you’ll be putting them back when we’re done.”
“I knew it was too good to last.”
Nate set his suits down on the deck and moved over to the console, whilst Croft arranged them into six neat piles.
“How’s it looking?”
“We’re good to go, Cap.”
“Good. Kell said that we may need pattern enhancers over there.”
“I’ll get them ready and give the suits a once over a well.”
“Thanks Jossa.” He turned back to Croft. “Care to lend a hand getting the field equipment together?”
“Lead the way.”
* * * * *
“Approaching co-ordinates,” Ro announced from the helm.
The bridge was fuller than usual, with Maguire, Zirayne, Kell and Ro all at their customary places, as well as Thorev and Croft hovering about, whilst Telak at the port engineering/science station (Jossa and Inaia would both be in the transporter room monitoring from there). They all paused in what they were doing and looked at the Captain.
He leant forward slightly. “Drop us out of warp. Full scan.”
With a sense of quiet pride, Telak noted the smooth deceleration of the ships main engines whilst the impulse drive kicked in to stabilise their momentum and propel them forward at sublight speeds. He wasn’t an arrogant man, a trait often attributed to Romulans, but his work was his life and he wanted to let it speak for itself—which was difficult in a ship with as many light-years on the clock as the Eclipse had, but that just made the challenge more worthwhile to undertake.
“I’ve got the ship, dead ahead,” stated Ro.
Telak often wondered what outsiders thought of their little crew, especially the fact that there was a full-blooded Romulan and a half-Klingon working together in such close quarters. Fortunately Ro had as much disdain for Klingon tradition as he did for his own, which allowed them both to look past what their respective cultures told them they should think of each other and instead deal with the other as a person. Ro may have been a little overly boisterous at times and something of a thrill seeker, but at his heart he was a big softie and very technically minded—especially when it came to warp drives.
“No other ships within sensor range,” Zirayne told the assembled crew, her fingers never far from the targeting controls.
“The ship has suffered heavy damage, with multiple hull breaches—almost every deck is exposed to hard vacuum. I have got one pressurised area on their third deck, but temperature is low and I’m not showing much of an atmosphere. I’m only registering minimal battery power. Sensor resolution is better at this range, but I’m still not detecting any life-signs,” said Kell, her tone sombre.
Maguire looked around at all those who would be on the rescue team, all of whom were already partially in their spacesuits (their gloves, enviropacks and helmets were waiting for them down in the transporter room). “Alright, we’ll split into three pairs, cover more ground that way. Zirayne, you and Telak will take the lower levels. See if you can assess the extent of the damage, and try to establish some power to their systems.”
Telak looked across at the Boslic and nodded. He’d already made sure to have a couple of power cells ready to beam over for such a job.
“Ro, you and Inaia will take the habitable area; if there are any survivors onboard that’s where they’ll be. Doctor, you and I will be on the upper levels. We’ll see about accessing their computer systems, so we can at least contact their homeworld and informing them about what happened to their ship. Maintain open comms with the each other and the ship. Kell, keep an eye on everything from here.”
“You got it,” the ops manager assured him.
“I never doubt it. Let’s get going.”
As he, Maguire, Ro and Zirayne rose from their seats, Croft was already heading out the exit. Thorev stood to the side to let them pass. Telak gave the bearded Andorian a wary glance, who returned it with a faint smile. The scientist was definitely an odd one. Telak had never had any interaction with Starfleet before, though of course he knew about them and their ways, but he couldn’t tell if Thorev was being overly nice and interested due to his training or if that was just his way—he had definitely integrated in well with the rest of the crew.
He shook his head as he stepped into the corridor; this wasn’t the time to dwell on the attentions of one of their passengers, not when he was about to step into the unknown. In an orderly manner they reached the transporter room and got the rest of their suits on, all carrying a sidearm and scanner, whilst various pieces of equipment was ready to be loaded onto the platform and beamed over with them. Jossa stood at the controls listening as Maguire explained what the plan was.
“Got it,” he confirmed with a nod, just before the console beeped. “We’ve entered transporter range.”
“Right, Ro and Inaia are first.”
The towering helmsman and diminutive medic stepped up onto the dais. As soon as Ro nodded they were enveloped in a shimmering blue haze before they disappeared. There was a pause before the controls chirped cheerfully.
“Ro to transporter room. We’re onboard.”
Without Maguire saying another word, Zirayne picked up one of the power cells and stepped up. He grabbed the other and set it in place, then moved to one of the two pads at the front of the chamber, Zirayne next him, her hand firmly on her weapon.
“Energise.”
* * * * *
Looking around the narrow corridors, Inaia’s heart was breaking. The lights on either side of her helmet cut through the darkness, lingering on the handful of bodies they found, most in their quarters where they’d been killed by blunt force trauma (either being thrown into bulkheads or having fast-moving objects striking them). She dreaded to think how many of the crew, who all appeared to be of the same long-eared species, had been in the areas that had been opened up to space. The first body had been lying prone in the corridor, a blanket placed over him. Her first reaction was to close her eyes an offer a silent prayer, even without scanning him, the angle of his neck told her there was nothing that could be done. She didn’t know who he was or what his beliefs, but someone had taken great care to cover him so wishing him peace in whatever afterlife awaited him was the very least she could do.
After replacing the bodies shroud, she stood up and saw the uneasy look on Ro’s face. The pilot was unusually quiet, his scanner open as he swept the area they’d been given to check. They’d already noted that the oxygen content was very low, as well as a dangerous level of carbon dioxide, whilst radiation inside the ship wasn’t as high as they’d expected—which would be fortunate for any survivors they did find.
Their progress through the middle deck was slow, though their handheld scanners did mean they wouldn’t need to check every room, they were held up by debris in some of the passages, making it tricky to manoeuvre in the bulky suits, whilst the open doors they did find were far too narrow for them to squeeze through. The cold, warped metal proved difficult to move, even for someone with Ro’s strength.
It was clear that at least one person had survived the catastrophe that had befallen the ship and it looked as though they were on the same path, though there was no way of knowing just what they would find when they got to the end. Inaia had seen nothing in the way of emergency lockers or supply stores, unless there was a shelter somewhere on the deck (a place for the crew to take refuge in such a crisis) at least that was what she hoped, otherwise whoever they found could be beyond help.
Ro was in the lead, pushing whatever clutter and debris was in the way clear, moving tentatively to keep his suit intact—though there was still some air, it was at dangerous levels so damaging the suit would present problems, though maybe not as severe as the other teams above and below them. His scanner chirped. She held her breath, knowing the device was actively scanning for biological trace be it another body or a survivor, and looked at her own device.
“I’ve got something, just ahead on the right,” he stated, just as she saw the same thing.
Her scanner gave a hopeful beep. “I’m detecting an increase in body temperature and a heartbeat, both very faint. We have a survivor!”
Ro pushed forward with surprising determination. Something stirred within him that made him focused on one thing: finding that person. Though Inaia was trained to suppress the thoughts and emotions of others, there were times that the intensity coming from another sentient being was just too great. Ro’s feelings were almost overpowering, something in the distress call had ensnared the young man and was driving him.
It took him only a matter of minutes to reach the room where the life-signs were coming from. With a growl of exertion he pushed the doors wider apart. She slipped through as soon as she could and quickly looked around the set of crew quarters, with a haphazardly assembled console on the desk whilst several wall panels had been removed and wires had been spliced into the terminal. It took her a moment to locate the sole occupant, a female with the same kangaroo-like ears on the top of her head, thick dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, whilst her pale skin was almost blue with cold.
They crouched down beside the curled up woman and as she opened her medkit, the pilot brushed the hair from her face.
“It’s alright, we’re here to help,” he said softly.
Inaia started her scans, faced with the problem of trying to determine the extent of the woman’s condition without having any knowledge of her healthy physiology. She could tell the alien was a warm-blooded mammal, a marsupial by the looks of things, whilst her cardio-vascular system looked somewhat straight forward her digestive tract was very peculiar, but it was clear to see she was suffering the effects of cold exposure and build-up of carbon dioxide, not to mention borderline malnutrition.
“This is Inaia, we have one survivor but she’s in a very bad way. I need to get her to sickbay now,” she said into the suits open comlink.
Beside her, Ro was suddenly a flurry of activity, removing the pattern enhancers from his pack and getting them set up.
“Any others?” asked Captain Maguire.
“No one else that our scanners can detect,” she told him with heaviness in her chest.
There was a momentary pause before he said, “Understood. Sister, beam back with her. Ro, complete a visual sweep of that section.”
Ro set up the last enhancer. “Aye Captain.” He activated the narrow cylinder. “Enhancers activated.”
“I’ve locked onto two signals,” stated Jossa from the Eclipse.
She glanced at Ro, who was staring at the barely living woman they had found. “Ready for transport.” As they dematerialised, the helmsman’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes carrying an unspoken message asking her to help the alien who had somehow taken hold of his very soul.
Inaia, a priest of the Sisters of Arici, had taken an oath to give aid and comfort to those most in need, just as the founder of her order had done centuries ago on Delta IV, and was the one thing she held closest to her heart. She would never turn away anyone who needed her, no matter who they were or what wrongs they had undertaken. Through helping others as best she could, by giving of her knowledge, experience and skill to relieve them of their pain and suffering, she was fulfilling her role in this life. At her very core that was who she was, so she would do all she could for the nameless woman now under her care.
* * * * *
Maximilian Nielsen looked around the room that had become his prison. Throughout his entire life he’d never once thought he’d end up incarcerated, he’d never had believed himself possible of doing anything that would see him held against his will. His own ego and obsession had been his downfall. Had he not been so determined to prove his theory and show up all those who had belittled him in the past, he might never have ended up in a prison of his own making. To make matters worse, his cell contained all the proof he could ever hope for but that didn’t hide the dull and dank room, filled with decade’s worth of foul smells.
If he could just make it out of that room, off the old rattling ship, back to Federation space and the Daystrom Institute, then he would be able to show everyone who had brushed him aside that the Designers were real. A lifetime of studying ancient civilisations and cultures, focusing on how their technology influenced and impacted on them, had convinced him that some of the truly great (in some cases almost mythical) advancements some had made were not by their own devising. He’d found instances where great inventions seemed to spring out of nowhere, with no basis in their own technologies or creations. Whilst great breakthroughs could spring from ‘eureka’ moments, it had always made him think.
It wasn’t until he was on Omega Epsilon VII (a bleak little world in an unimportant corner of the Alpha Quadrant that was believed to have once been a flourishing planet in the Tkon Empire) that he uncovered a single piece of evidence that had made him focus in on his stray thought. Three lines of handwritten text, scrawled on an official ancient document by an unsteady hand, which had faded over the eons, had been the beginning of his obsession. Though most was illegible, he’d been able to piece together one phrase: brought to us by the Designers. Whilst his Tkonese was a little rusty he’d confirmed that ‘Designers’ had been used as proper noun, so wasn’t discussing just a job title. He’d spent the rest of the dig looking for something else that spoke of the Designers, but had come up empty.
Unfortunately, on the transport back to Rigel IV the stasis container he’d used to seal the document had been defective and the only evidence he had of his new hypothesis had been destroyed. That didn’t stop him however; he started looking into numerous other ancient cultures, from the Iconians to the Hur’q, looking for any periods in the archaeological record where their technology jumped forward without any precedent. The deeper he looked the more he noticed; not that any of his peers could see the same pattern, they chalked it up to incomplete records and coincidence—but that didn’t explain how a species, who were no more advanced than twenty-third century Talarians, suddenly invented a network of portals that allowed for instantaneous transport across the galaxy. Some things just didn’t add up, not to him.
Five years after finding his first hint of the Designers he’d been on another dig, this time on the homeworld of the Kzett (an ancient race whose civilisation disappeared around the same time as the Great Pyramid of Giza was being finished) when he’d studied an obelisk that had been inscribed as ‘Ode to the Great Architects’. The Kzett erected the obelisks to commemorate great events, with poems or songs carved into them along with pictographs or images, so the one he’d focused on was one of hundreds still standing (with thousands more having fallen down or crumbled away over time) and through quantum dating he’d been able to narrow down the time it was erected to around the time the Kzett had suddenly developed a new sort of highly efficient polaron-based energy source—something that had sprung out of nowhere and allowed them to expand exponentially up until the time they vanished.
However, that wasn’t the most important part of his discovery. In the poem and accompanying images there was mention of the Six Suns of Paradise, a phrase that hadn’t been found on any of the earlier artefacts though became a recurring theme on those dated after his obelisk, almost as though it was the emergence of a belief system.
Nielsen became convinced that the ‘Great Architects’ of the Kzett were the Designers and that, after their intervention, the population had ventured out into space and begun to worship them as some sort of saviours, maybe even gods. Of course his colleagues at the Institute’s Xenoarchaeology Division had brushed aside his ‘madcap’ theory, so he’d stopped taking his findings to them. Instead he worked on his own, continuing to look into long-dead civilisations but he also started going through all the stellar cartography records he could looking for a pattern on six star systems that could be called ‘paradise’.
For four years he came up empty handed, finding nothing of significance on other digs and his troll through astrometric charts showed him nothing that even came close. Then his big break came, entirely by accident, when Starfleet Science gave the Daystrom Institute access to the confidential findings of a scout ship, he was mistakenly copied into the data feed from Earth and had only managed to glance at the discovery before the error was noticed and his access was revoked. But that glimpse was all he’d needed. Starfleet had discovered a cluster of six star systems that made Eden look like a Ferengi garbage dump.
He’d used whatever favours and clout he still had left to get more information on the systems, especially their co-ordinates. When he’d seen just how far away it was he had been mortified, it wouldn’t be a short expedition, but something told him that that was where he needed to go. Of course, at that time the situation with the Dominion was a tinderbox and threatened to take light at any second, which meant that Starfleet wasn’t committing resources to follow up the initial discovery nor could they also couldn’t provide any support, be it logistical or defensive, to civilian organisations. The Colony Administration, Daystrom Institute, and Jupiter Mining Consortium took the safety advice of Starfleet and opted not to venture outside of Federation space.
With no influence to wield, and only a ‘wild’ theory behind him, he’d have no chance of convincing his Head of Division to go against Starfleet’s security advisory; which meant he’d need to make his own way out to the cluster. It had taken him two years to scrimp together enough gold pressed latinum to help him pay for a ship to take him, by which time the quadrant was embroiled in the worst war for decades. Any reputable civilian ship would be either playing it safe in the core of the Federation or helping out with humanitarian aid near the front, which meant he’d had to go with a less savoury option.
A ragtag band of mercenaries onboard on old B’rel-Class bird-of-prey was the best he could do, being that they were cheap and didn’t ask too many questions—even though the Captain, a red Orion, looked as though he’s slit Nielsen’s throat without batting an eye. Had it not been for the ships sensor operator Yausi, a stunningly beautiful Ullian, he might’ve reconsidered his choice of ship. But she was captivating and enticing and had seemed genuinely interested in him, finding every opportunity to spend time with him. But it was true what they said, ‘there’s no fool like an old fool’.
Using her underhanded mental abilities, she’d messed with his head to the point that she knew everything, including just why he was going to the cluster. It was then that he’d become a prisoner onboard the very vessel he’d hired, the Captain seeing what he was looking for to be more worthwhile than a few measly bars of latinum.
Now he was trapped onboard, his work over the last decade justified beyond even his wildest imagination, but with no way of making it back to the Rigel System safely. Now that the Captain had access to all that Nielsen had found, he needed the archaeologist to figure out how it worked and what it did, so that he would know how to use it for his own benefit.
Nielsen may have allowed himself to be duped by the allure of a pretty face and insidious telepathy, but he wasn’t naïve. He knew that there was a very strong likelihood he would never get off the ship alive, so for now all he could do was what he was told and hope that he would make himself too valuable to execute. At least, that was what he hoped for every day from his cell.
* * * * *
The alien ship was larger than the Eclipse but still cramped, whilst somewhat ‘primitive’—Croft estimated whoever had built the ship were at the same level of development as humans in the mid-22nd century, which meant they were still fairly new to deep space travel. So it came as little wonder to her that they had been so unprepared for what had happened to them, she theorised as she stood on the bridge and looked out the gaping hole that had once been the front of the vessel.
Their search of the top deck had turned up nothing but sensor and communications arrays, even had the ship been intact the space would’ve been barely habitable. The next deck had been a mixture of accommodation, some crew facilities and ship systems, as well as the bridge. By the time they reached the control room, Ro and Inaia had found the lone survivor, whilst down in the engine room Zirayne and Telak had managed to patch in an emergency power cell and give them at least a little energy to work with.
She and Maguire had worked quickly to interface with the system and establish an uplink back to the Eclipse, not knowing just how long the power would be available for. She hadn’t been sure just what to expect from the courier’s Captain, but had been surprised to see that he was very adept with computer systems. He must’ve caught her watching him with an odd look on her face, as he’d explained he’d specialised in ship operations and had always had a knack for computers—skills he didn’t get to use very often, not with the likes of Kell and Telak onboard.
So as he’d monitored the data flow between the two ships, as well as attempt a cursory look over what information he could on the barely working consoles, she’d moved over to the hull breach. Through the ragged hole she could see debris and bodies floating in space, just beyond which sat the Eclipse. The little ship had a flat but wide profile, her fuselage looked almost unfinished, lacking the smooth lines of Starfleet vessels, whilst the blue hue of her integrated nacelles lit up the wings, each one ending with a phaser cannon. She’d not seen the outside of the ship since they’d left DS4 and it looked even smaller than she remembered, though part of that was most likely the knowledge that they were alone out there.
Croft pulled the tricorder from her belt, her Starfleet-issue device had come with her when she’d taken her LOA, knowing that she would need its sensitive scans and analysis features for her mission. Instead of scanning geological samples however, she aimed it at the edges of the breach and began her sweep. The telemetry came back almost instantly, which made her frown as she checked again. The same results registered.
She opened up a private comlink with Maguire, not wanting to broadcast on an open channel and panic anyone. “Captain.”
He looked over at her, puzzled at her use of the private link. “What’s wrong, Doctor?”
“This damaged was caused by a type-three disruptor, which are only used by three known species: Breen, Klingons and Romulans.”
“What would any of them be doing out here?”
She took a breath and did something she’d told herself she wouldn’t. “The Lancelot was in this region carrying out reconnaissance of the Breen Confederacy. Intel had unconfirmed reports that they were sending ships into these sectors. Our orders were to see if that was true and gather as much data as we could on their fleet movements.”
“The classified nature of your mission,” he realised.
“Yes. All three species utilise cloaking technology, which would explain how they inflicted so much damage before the crew could respond.”
He looked back at the uplink then clicked onto the open channel once more. “Kell, anything on sensors?”
“Negative Captain.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Zirayne.
Maguire’s eyes locked with hers. “This ship was definitely attacked, with a strong chance it was by a cloaked Breen vessel. Zirayne and Ro get back to the Eclipse and stay alert. Telak and I will stay onboard long enough to get this data transferred then we’ll be beaming out.”
“Understood,” each the search and rescue team members replied in unison.
She turned from the breach and slowly moved back to the console he was working at.
“Doc, I want you out of here as well.”
Croft fixed her cool grey eyes onto his azure blue ones, her face set. She wasn’t about to turn tail and run, not whilst he was staying behind. “Well that’s too bad; I’m staying until you beam out with me.”
A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, giving his handsome face a boyish charm that made her look away and focus on the alien terminal so he wouldn’t see her cheeks flush. Without another word, he set back to work alongside her.
* * * * *
After replacing the bodies shroud, she stood up and saw the uneasy look on Ro’s face. The pilot was unusually quiet, his scanner open as he swept the area they’d been given to check. They’d already noted that the oxygen content was very low, as well as a dangerous level of carbon dioxide, whilst radiation inside the ship wasn’t as high as they’d expected—which would be fortunate for any survivors they did find.
Their progress through the middle deck was slow, though their handheld scanners did mean they wouldn’t need to check every room, they were held up by debris in some of the passages, making it tricky to manoeuvre in the bulky suits, whilst the open doors they did find were far too narrow for them to squeeze through. The cold, warped metal proved difficult to move, even for someone with Ro’s strength.
It was clear that at least one person had survived the catastrophe that had befallen the ship and it looked as though they were on the same path, though there was no way of knowing just what they would find when they got to the end. Inaia had seen nothing in the way of emergency lockers or supply stores, unless there was a shelter somewhere on the deck (a place for the crew to take refuge in such a crisis) at least that was what she hoped, otherwise whoever they found could be beyond help.
Ro was in the lead, pushing whatever clutter and debris was in the way clear, moving tentatively to keep his suit intact—though there was still some air, it was at dangerous levels so damaging the suit would present problems, though maybe not as severe as the other teams above and below them. His scanner chirped. She held her breath, knowing the device was actively scanning for biological trace be it another body or a survivor, and looked at her own device.
“I’ve got something, just ahead on the right,” he stated, just as she saw the same thing.
Her scanner gave a hopeful beep. “I’m detecting an increase in body temperature and a heartbeat, both very faint. We have a survivor!”
Ro pushed forward with surprising determination. Something stirred within him that made him focused on one thing: finding that person. Though Inaia was trained to suppress the thoughts and emotions of others, there were times that the intensity coming from another sentient being was just too great. Ro’s feelings were almost overpowering, something in the distress call had ensnared the young man and was driving him.
It took him only a matter of minutes to reach the room where the life-signs were coming from. With a growl of exertion he pushed the doors wider apart. She slipped through as soon as she could and quickly looked around the set of crew quarters, with a haphazardly assembled console on the desk whilst several wall panels had been removed and wires had been spliced into the terminal. It took her a moment to locate the sole occupant, a female with the same kangaroo-like ears on the top of her head, thick dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, whilst her pale skin was almost blue with cold.
They crouched down beside the curled up woman and as she opened her medkit, the pilot brushed the hair from her face.
“It’s alright, we’re here to help,” he said softly.
Inaia started her scans, faced with the problem of trying to determine the extent of the woman’s condition without having any knowledge of her healthy physiology. She could tell the alien was a warm-blooded mammal, a marsupial by the looks of things, whilst her cardio-vascular system looked somewhat straight forward her digestive tract was very peculiar, but it was clear to see she was suffering the effects of cold exposure and build-up of carbon dioxide, not to mention borderline malnutrition.
“This is Inaia, we have one survivor but she’s in a very bad way. I need to get her to sickbay now,” she said into the suits open comlink.
Beside her, Ro was suddenly a flurry of activity, removing the pattern enhancers from his pack and getting them set up.
“Any others?” asked Captain Maguire.
“No one else that our scanners can detect,” she told him with heaviness in her chest.
There was a momentary pause before he said, “Understood. Sister, beam back with her. Ro, complete a visual sweep of that section.”
Ro set up the last enhancer. “Aye Captain.” He activated the narrow cylinder. “Enhancers activated.”
“I’ve locked onto two signals,” stated Jossa from the Eclipse.
She glanced at Ro, who was staring at the barely living woman they had found. “Ready for transport.” As they dematerialised, the helmsman’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes carrying an unspoken message asking her to help the alien who had somehow taken hold of his very soul.
Inaia, a priest of the Sisters of Arici, had taken an oath to give aid and comfort to those most in need, just as the founder of her order had done centuries ago on Delta IV, and was the one thing she held closest to her heart. She would never turn away anyone who needed her, no matter who they were or what wrongs they had undertaken. Through helping others as best she could, by giving of her knowledge, experience and skill to relieve them of their pain and suffering, she was fulfilling her role in this life. At her very core that was who she was, so she would do all she could for the nameless woman now under her care.
* * * * *
Maximilian Nielsen looked around the room that had become his prison. Throughout his entire life he’d never once thought he’d end up incarcerated, he’d never had believed himself possible of doing anything that would see him held against his will. His own ego and obsession had been his downfall. Had he not been so determined to prove his theory and show up all those who had belittled him in the past, he might never have ended up in a prison of his own making. To make matters worse, his cell contained all the proof he could ever hope for but that didn’t hide the dull and dank room, filled with decade’s worth of foul smells.
If he could just make it out of that room, off the old rattling ship, back to Federation space and the Daystrom Institute, then he would be able to show everyone who had brushed him aside that the Designers were real. A lifetime of studying ancient civilisations and cultures, focusing on how their technology influenced and impacted on them, had convinced him that some of the truly great (in some cases almost mythical) advancements some had made were not by their own devising. He’d found instances where great inventions seemed to spring out of nowhere, with no basis in their own technologies or creations. Whilst great breakthroughs could spring from ‘eureka’ moments, it had always made him think.
It wasn’t until he was on Omega Epsilon VII (a bleak little world in an unimportant corner of the Alpha Quadrant that was believed to have once been a flourishing planet in the Tkon Empire) that he uncovered a single piece of evidence that had made him focus in on his stray thought. Three lines of handwritten text, scrawled on an official ancient document by an unsteady hand, which had faded over the eons, had been the beginning of his obsession. Though most was illegible, he’d been able to piece together one phrase: brought to us by the Designers. Whilst his Tkonese was a little rusty he’d confirmed that ‘Designers’ had been used as proper noun, so wasn’t discussing just a job title. He’d spent the rest of the dig looking for something else that spoke of the Designers, but had come up empty.
Unfortunately, on the transport back to Rigel IV the stasis container he’d used to seal the document had been defective and the only evidence he had of his new hypothesis had been destroyed. That didn’t stop him however; he started looking into numerous other ancient cultures, from the Iconians to the Hur’q, looking for any periods in the archaeological record where their technology jumped forward without any precedent. The deeper he looked the more he noticed; not that any of his peers could see the same pattern, they chalked it up to incomplete records and coincidence—but that didn’t explain how a species, who were no more advanced than twenty-third century Talarians, suddenly invented a network of portals that allowed for instantaneous transport across the galaxy. Some things just didn’t add up, not to him.
Five years after finding his first hint of the Designers he’d been on another dig, this time on the homeworld of the Kzett (an ancient race whose civilisation disappeared around the same time as the Great Pyramid of Giza was being finished) when he’d studied an obelisk that had been inscribed as ‘Ode to the Great Architects’. The Kzett erected the obelisks to commemorate great events, with poems or songs carved into them along with pictographs or images, so the one he’d focused on was one of hundreds still standing (with thousands more having fallen down or crumbled away over time) and through quantum dating he’d been able to narrow down the time it was erected to around the time the Kzett had suddenly developed a new sort of highly efficient polaron-based energy source—something that had sprung out of nowhere and allowed them to expand exponentially up until the time they vanished.
However, that wasn’t the most important part of his discovery. In the poem and accompanying images there was mention of the Six Suns of Paradise, a phrase that hadn’t been found on any of the earlier artefacts though became a recurring theme on those dated after his obelisk, almost as though it was the emergence of a belief system.
Nielsen became convinced that the ‘Great Architects’ of the Kzett were the Designers and that, after their intervention, the population had ventured out into space and begun to worship them as some sort of saviours, maybe even gods. Of course his colleagues at the Institute’s Xenoarchaeology Division had brushed aside his ‘madcap’ theory, so he’d stopped taking his findings to them. Instead he worked on his own, continuing to look into long-dead civilisations but he also started going through all the stellar cartography records he could looking for a pattern on six star systems that could be called ‘paradise’.
For four years he came up empty handed, finding nothing of significance on other digs and his troll through astrometric charts showed him nothing that even came close. Then his big break came, entirely by accident, when Starfleet Science gave the Daystrom Institute access to the confidential findings of a scout ship, he was mistakenly copied into the data feed from Earth and had only managed to glance at the discovery before the error was noticed and his access was revoked. But that glimpse was all he’d needed. Starfleet had discovered a cluster of six star systems that made Eden look like a Ferengi garbage dump.
He’d used whatever favours and clout he still had left to get more information on the systems, especially their co-ordinates. When he’d seen just how far away it was he had been mortified, it wouldn’t be a short expedition, but something told him that that was where he needed to go. Of course, at that time the situation with the Dominion was a tinderbox and threatened to take light at any second, which meant that Starfleet wasn’t committing resources to follow up the initial discovery nor could they also couldn’t provide any support, be it logistical or defensive, to civilian organisations. The Colony Administration, Daystrom Institute, and Jupiter Mining Consortium took the safety advice of Starfleet and opted not to venture outside of Federation space.
With no influence to wield, and only a ‘wild’ theory behind him, he’d have no chance of convincing his Head of Division to go against Starfleet’s security advisory; which meant he’d need to make his own way out to the cluster. It had taken him two years to scrimp together enough gold pressed latinum to help him pay for a ship to take him, by which time the quadrant was embroiled in the worst war for decades. Any reputable civilian ship would be either playing it safe in the core of the Federation or helping out with humanitarian aid near the front, which meant he’d had to go with a less savoury option.
A ragtag band of mercenaries onboard on old B’rel-Class bird-of-prey was the best he could do, being that they were cheap and didn’t ask too many questions—even though the Captain, a red Orion, looked as though he’s slit Nielsen’s throat without batting an eye. Had it not been for the ships sensor operator Yausi, a stunningly beautiful Ullian, he might’ve reconsidered his choice of ship. But she was captivating and enticing and had seemed genuinely interested in him, finding every opportunity to spend time with him. But it was true what they said, ‘there’s no fool like an old fool’.
Using her underhanded mental abilities, she’d messed with his head to the point that she knew everything, including just why he was going to the cluster. It was then that he’d become a prisoner onboard the very vessel he’d hired, the Captain seeing what he was looking for to be more worthwhile than a few measly bars of latinum.
Now he was trapped onboard, his work over the last decade justified beyond even his wildest imagination, but with no way of making it back to the Rigel System safely. Now that the Captain had access to all that Nielsen had found, he needed the archaeologist to figure out how it worked and what it did, so that he would know how to use it for his own benefit.
Nielsen may have allowed himself to be duped by the allure of a pretty face and insidious telepathy, but he wasn’t naïve. He knew that there was a very strong likelihood he would never get off the ship alive, so for now all he could do was what he was told and hope that he would make himself too valuable to execute. At least, that was what he hoped for every day from his cell.
* * * * *
The alien ship was larger than the Eclipse but still cramped, whilst somewhat ‘primitive’—Croft estimated whoever had built the ship were at the same level of development as humans in the mid-22nd century, which meant they were still fairly new to deep space travel. So it came as little wonder to her that they had been so unprepared for what had happened to them, she theorised as she stood on the bridge and looked out the gaping hole that had once been the front of the vessel.
Their search of the top deck had turned up nothing but sensor and communications arrays, even had the ship been intact the space would’ve been barely habitable. The next deck had been a mixture of accommodation, some crew facilities and ship systems, as well as the bridge. By the time they reached the control room, Ro and Inaia had found the lone survivor, whilst down in the engine room Zirayne and Telak had managed to patch in an emergency power cell and give them at least a little energy to work with.
She and Maguire had worked quickly to interface with the system and establish an uplink back to the Eclipse, not knowing just how long the power would be available for. She hadn’t been sure just what to expect from the courier’s Captain, but had been surprised to see that he was very adept with computer systems. He must’ve caught her watching him with an odd look on her face, as he’d explained he’d specialised in ship operations and had always had a knack for computers—skills he didn’t get to use very often, not with the likes of Kell and Telak onboard.
So as he’d monitored the data flow between the two ships, as well as attempt a cursory look over what information he could on the barely working consoles, she’d moved over to the hull breach. Through the ragged hole she could see debris and bodies floating in space, just beyond which sat the Eclipse. The little ship had a flat but wide profile, her fuselage looked almost unfinished, lacking the smooth lines of Starfleet vessels, whilst the blue hue of her integrated nacelles lit up the wings, each one ending with a phaser cannon. She’d not seen the outside of the ship since they’d left DS4 and it looked even smaller than she remembered, though part of that was most likely the knowledge that they were alone out there.
Croft pulled the tricorder from her belt, her Starfleet-issue device had come with her when she’d taken her LOA, knowing that she would need its sensitive scans and analysis features for her mission. Instead of scanning geological samples however, she aimed it at the edges of the breach and began her sweep. The telemetry came back almost instantly, which made her frown as she checked again. The same results registered.
She opened up a private comlink with Maguire, not wanting to broadcast on an open channel and panic anyone. “Captain.”
He looked over at her, puzzled at her use of the private link. “What’s wrong, Doctor?”
“This damaged was caused by a type-three disruptor, which are only used by three known species: Breen, Klingons and Romulans.”
“What would any of them be doing out here?”
She took a breath and did something she’d told herself she wouldn’t. “The Lancelot was in this region carrying out reconnaissance of the Breen Confederacy. Intel had unconfirmed reports that they were sending ships into these sectors. Our orders were to see if that was true and gather as much data as we could on their fleet movements.”
“The classified nature of your mission,” he realised.
“Yes. All three species utilise cloaking technology, which would explain how they inflicted so much damage before the crew could respond.”
He looked back at the uplink then clicked onto the open channel once more. “Kell, anything on sensors?”
“Negative Captain.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Zirayne.
Maguire’s eyes locked with hers. “This ship was definitely attacked, with a strong chance it was by a cloaked Breen vessel. Zirayne and Ro get back to the Eclipse and stay alert. Telak and I will stay onboard long enough to get this data transferred then we’ll be beaming out.”
“Understood,” each the search and rescue team members replied in unison.
She turned from the breach and slowly moved back to the console he was working at.
“Doc, I want you out of here as well.”
Croft fixed her cool grey eyes onto his azure blue ones, her face set. She wasn’t about to turn tail and run, not whilst he was staying behind. “Well that’s too bad; I’m staying until you beam out with me.”
A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, giving his handsome face a boyish charm that made her look away and focus on the alien terminal so he wouldn’t see her cheeks flush. Without another word, he set back to work alongside her.
* * * * *
So glad they reached Aean in the nick of time, but now they've got a surly band of mercenaries to deal with on top of the mysteries of this weird sector of space. I'm loving the tension between the captain and Croft, as the two of them dance around their mutual attraction.
Despite lacking more rigorous Starfleet training, Nate and his crew are proving capable in a crisis, no doubt one of the reasons Croft signed on with them in the first place.
Wonderful stuff, and I'm anxious for more!
Despite lacking more rigorous Starfleet training, Nate and his crew are proving capable in a crisis, no doubt one of the reasons Croft signed on with them in the first place.
Wonderful stuff, and I'm anxious for more!
Thanks Gibraltar, I'm trying not to make their dance too much of a melodrama.
It's proving an interesting challenge just what these people will be able to do, seeing as how there are only seven crew, two passengers and now one survivor onboard. None of the crew have a Starfleet background, some will have trained or come up through the Federation Merchant Fleet (Civilian Service, whatever you want to call it) whilst others won't have that, so what they do is more about their character than their training or obligation.
I'm off to Barcelona a week tomorrow, so writing will be paused for sightseeing and tapas, I am hoping to get another chapter (or two if you're lucky) done before I fly.
It's proving an interesting challenge just what these people will be able to do, seeing as how there are only seven crew, two passengers and now one survivor onboard. None of the crew have a Starfleet background, some will have trained or come up through the Federation Merchant Fleet (Civilian Service, whatever you want to call it) whilst others won't have that, so what they do is more about their character than their training or obligation.
I'm off to Barcelona a week tomorrow, so writing will be paused for sightseeing and tapas, I am hoping to get another chapter (or two if you're lucky) done before I fly.
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Chapter 5
Rachel Croft, personal log. Stardate: 54756.3.
We managed to complete the download of the alien ships active computer memory and return to the Eclipse, without any sign of whoever was behind the attack. Whilst the Cluster may not be right next to Breen space, given they are just over three sectors away, utilise type-three disruptors and some of their ships are equipped with cloaks, then they would be the most logical candidate for whoever it was. I just can’t see what they would’ve gained from attacking a minimally armed ship like that, but then again the Breen are still a mystery—one I don’t think we’ll ever truly figure out.
By the time we returned to the bridge, Zirayne already had us heading for system Beta, saying that we’ll have a better chance to hide from whoever it is and plan our next move. Given the system has six planets, three of which are gas giants, over thirty moons, and a dense asteroid belt then it is a logical place to seek refuge. She even suggested using the magnetic pole of one of the outer planets moons as a natural cloak. The Captain agreed and once we entered the blind spot main power was cut and all sensors were switched to passive scans.
The mood onboard has never been this tense. Though I may not know the crew that well, their camaraderie and banter was evident, but even that has stopped. The oppressive sense of unease has filled every square meter of the ship; all we can do is wait and see if we’re safe or about to be attacked like the alien ship.
The sole survivor remains in sickbay, being treated by Sister Inaia. There’s no word yet on just what her condition is. I can only hope that she pulls through, not only can she provide us with information as to who might’ve attacked them but also what happened in the Cluster—I can only assume that they were here to study it as well.
Despite the terse time we face, after hours spent watching every sensor screen on the bridge without incident, the Captain has ordered his crew to work in shifts. Keeping someone monitoring the scans for any activity at all times, so the rest can get some rest. If there’s one thing I can say about Nathan Maguire it’s that I truly admire his dedication to his crew, I genuinely believe he would do anything for them without a moment’s hesitation. Had he chosen to enter Starfleet he would’ve made an incredible officer.
Though they may not be on the bridge, I suspect some of the crew aren’t resting. Thorev did say that he was going to start going through the database we transferred over, to see what he could find. Before I could offer to help him out, he told me to get some sleep—highlighting the fact that since we got to the Cluster I’ve been getting even less than on our journey here. Had I not been yawing at the time I might’ve disputed his statement. Of course, now that I am trying to rest then I feel more awake than before.
There’s one question going round in my head, one I don’t particularly want to address even though it needs to be. What—
The door chimed.
Croft paused the recording of her log, which she had continued to make ever since taking her leave of absence, using it as a means of getting all her thoughts out in the open so she could at least organise them into some coherent stream. She set the PADD on the bedside cabinet and sat up on her bunk.
“Come in.”
She wasn’t sure just who might’ve been calling along her, especially in the middle of the night, though there were a couple of most likely candidates. The hatch receded into the bulkhead with a soft swish and the opening was almost filled by a tall and broad frame. It wasn’t Thorev, who’d been her first assumption.
“May I enter?” Maguire asked.
“Of course, Captain,” she said, pulling the blanket off of her and standing as he stepped into her cabin. Her usual sleep attire was a vest and shorts, so she had slightly more clothes on than the last time they’d encountered one another in the middle of the night. She’d taken her raven black hair down before trying to sleep and it now hung over her bare shoulders, but she swept it clear of her face.
“I thought I heard you talking,” he said softly, once the door closed behind him.
She blushed and glanced back at the PADD. “I was just making a log entry, old habit.”
He chuckled. “I always feel daft making entries on the ship’s log, sitting talking to an empty room.”
“It can be quite therapeutic, so long as no one reads your inner most thoughts.”
He gave her that same boyishly charming smile once again and she found herself grinning, before quickly realising and composing her expression once more. Though she’d always known, it wasn’t until then that she realised just how small her quarters were. There was no chance to keep her distance, no way maintain some sense of professional decorum (especially not in her state of undress). They both stood only a couple of meters apart, which was almost the sum of the free floor space she had. Whether he knew it or not, Maguire’s presence certainly filled a room.
“I’m sorry for intruding so late, if I hadn’t heard you it would’ve waited until morning, but this is something that we can’t beat around the bush with.”
She nodded, knowing what was coming. The question that she knew would be and the one she didn’t want to face, but knew they’d have to address for the safety of everyone.
“What do we do now?” she finished for him.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, holding her eyes. “I was happy to take you out here, spend two or three months ferrying you around the Cluster, then take you back. There were always risks attached to it, but this is something entirely different. If the Breen, or someone else, is actively attacking ships then we can’t stay.”
Croft nodded. She understood where he was coming from, knew that he would place their safety above all else, even the job she was paying him for out of her own pocket (from the family fortune that the Croft’s had accumulated for generations), her obsession to figure out what had happened in the Cluster wouldn’t be factoring very highly for him—even if it was what filled her days in recent months. But as much as she knew all that, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of anger, loss and defeat.
Keeping her emotions in check she looked at him evenly. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk your ship or crew under these circumstances, Captain.”
He took a step closer, which put him within arm’s reach and meant she needed to tilt her head upwards to hold his look. Her heart thundered in her chest and she felt goose bumps rise on her bare skin.
“However,” he continued, his voice low, “if someone is here attacking other ships, it could mean they’re trying to hide something—maybe something to do with what happened to the Cluster.”
“I…if,” her voice caught so she quickly cleared her throat. “If they can decimate six star systems then I would’ve thought that there would be nothing but dust left of a simple ship. But some outside force could well be behind what happened here.”
“What would it take for someone to manage something like this?”
“Something spectacular and terrifying,” she admitted. “Even Cardassian strip mining wouldn’t cause this kind of devastation. There was the Crystalline Entity, it consumed all organic matter from planets but would’ve left the minerals and metals behind, though the only known one was destroyed nine years ago. Maybe there are similar beings that thrive on inorganic matter in the same way. But I’ve never heard of anything like this, nor of any other attacks like the Crystalline Entity in almost a decade.”
“So whoever else is out here could have a planet-eating monster with them?”
“It sounds a little ridiculous when you say it like that, but there could be some kind of lifeform behind this and the alien ship was attacked by poachers.”
“Who’d be crazy enough to hunt down something that can devastate a planet?”
“I’m trying to look at all possibilities, Captain.”
“You know, Doctor Croft, you can call me Nathan or even Nate.”
She wasn’t an impulsive woman. The only time she could ever say that she acted without thinking was when she’d decided to head out to the Cluster off her own back, everything else in her life was well thought out and planned (except in cases when her instincts had kicked in to save her life or others) but in that moment, in the dim light of her very cramped cabin, all she wanted was to be with the man before her—hell, she was practically naked anyway. The intensity of his presence, the allure and charm of the man with his boyish smile and kind eyes, she had to fight the urge that ever fibre in her being was telling her to succumb too. This definitely wasn’t the time for such things, but it was hard to resist. Other than a no-strings-attached arrangement with a shipmate during the war, her last serious dalliance hadn’t been since before her mission on the Lancelot and that had been a tremendous disappointment.
As much as she was telling herself not to give in, to keep their relationship professional, to focus on the very real threat they now faced, she felt her right leg about to move, to take a step closer to him which would make what happened next inescapable.
“Mineralogical analysis complete,” the automated alert from the computer droned, quenching the mood and bringing her back to reality once more.
Before the alien ship had been discovered, she’d set the analyser going and programmed the computer to notify her when the results were ready, then forgotten all about it given what happened since then. She broke eye contact, turning her back to him and trying to think once more about what she was really there for. Behind her she felt more than heard him step away, giving her a little space once more.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned back to see that he had moved away slightly, which made her both relieved and disappointed. She picked up her PADD again, to give her hands something to do other than claw at his shirt.
“I’d better check on that,” she said meekly.
He nodded. “I won’t make any decisions right now, not until we’ve had a chance to go through the ships’ computers and spoken to the survivor, see if either can shed some light on what’s going on.”
“That’d be appreciated, Captain.”
“I’ll let you get back to work, Doctor, just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard.”
She gave him a faint smile. “I won’t.” He returned the smile, turned back to her door and left with a hurried awkwardness that made him even more endearing. When the door closed and she was alone once again, she added, “Nathan.”
* * * * *
Sickbay was located in the middle of B Deck, near the transporter room, to provide it with as much protection as possible. The double doors opened onto the medical facilities two beds and to the right was the sole workstation, as well as access to the store for equipment and drugs. Ro Sandoval stepped in and his eyes were immediately locked onto the occupied bed. He approached it slowly, looking at the resting face of the young woman, whose complexion was a much healthier pinkish colour.
He couldn’t explain why he’d become so invested in her call for help, but something about the tone of her voice had struck a chord with him. He just hoped that they’d gotten to her in time and that she would be alright.
Stopping at the side of her bed he looked down at her, noting the tubes and apparatus she was hooked up to, but the monitor at the head of the bed beeped steadily and her chest rose and fell regularly. He wasn’t any kind of medic, but to him things looked hopeful. Turning from the equipment, he focused on her round face, large eyes closed, and her long tapered ears on the top of her head drooped over the pillow.
“Ro?” a soft voice asked from behind him.
Startled, he spun towards it and saw a tired-looking Inaia standing, looking at him. “Sister, I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
She smiled at him and shook her head, moving to the other side of the bed. “It’s alright, you can stay. She’s resting quite peacefully for now. It was a little touch-and-go when I first got her back onboard, given her exposure to those conditions, but her species seems remarkably resilient. I just need to monitor her and slowly build her strength up, other than that her own body is doing most of the work.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and found himself grinning like an idiot. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Inaia pressed a small silver device to her temple, which staying in place and began humming softly. She looked up at him and noted the confused look on his face. “It’s a neural sensor. It will scan her brain and nervous system, seeing as how I have nothing on her species I need to collect as much information as I can for a baseline. It will also monitor her neural activity and can alert me if there are any problems or if she’s waking up.”
“Are you going?”
“She’s stable, safe and making a remarkable recovery, I was just about to head back to my cabin for a little rest. The sensor will alert me of the slightest change.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll head back to my bunk as well; don’t want to get in the way.”
Inaia rested a hand on his bicep. “You stay as long as you like. Just don’t press anything.”
“Sister, I always watch where I put my feet when I come in here, so I can assure you I’m not about to start pushing any buttons.”
“Good. If anything happens or if you have any questions, just comm me.”
“You got it, Sister. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Ro.”
He watched the Deltan leave, her long gown and robe fluttering behind her as she walked. Once the doors closed, he was left alone with the unconscious woman and a room filled with odd noises. He shuddered as he looked at all the complex equipment. He definitely wasn’t built for anything like this, flying a ship was far more straight forward and much less stressful.
After a few minutes he started to feel a little ridiculous, what could he do that a trained professional like the Sister couldn’t? He didn’t even know the woman’s name, didn’t know a thing about her, he couldn’t offer her anything but empty platitudes. He really should leave her to sleep, if anything changed then Inaia would be here in moments to see to her.
But even though his rational mind told him to leave, his feet were rooted to the spot, whilst his eyes never left her lovely face. Inexplicably he felt the need to watch over her, protect her, had done since the first time he’d heard her voice.
He pulled a stool over from the corner and sat at the side of her bed, feeling well out of his comfort zone but determined to stay with her as long as he could. “Hi,” he started his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Ro. You’re safe. You’re onboard our ship, the Eclipse. Inaia says you’re tough and pulling through. When you wake up you’ll have a lot of people interested in what you’ve got to say, about yourself, your planet, what happened to your ship, but we won’t push you.
“What else,” he muttered to himself, not quite sure what he should say. He gave a dry laugh. “I don’t usually find it quite so hard to talk, just ask Kell, but I have to admit I feel a little silly sitting here talking to someone whose unconscious—even if they do say that hearing is the first sense to recover. Feels very one-sided, I mean, I could spill all my deepest darkest secrets, that you may or may not hear, and I’d know nothing about you. So why don’t we start with what’s your name?”
He paused. She didn’t answer, not that he’d expected her too. “No? Well I could give you a name, something to call you until you wake up. Ok?” She still didn’t answer. “Alright then, we’ll go with...Cam. Short for Cameron, my mother’s name—don’t read anything into that, I’m not saying you look like her though you seem to have the same fighting spirit. She needed it, marrying a crazy Klingon. He gave me some god awful traditional name, but she always called me ‘Ro’ which is why I use it now—it’s a little way I like to remember her.” He stopped that train of thought, knowing that he didn’t want to dwell on the day his mother was murdered at the hands of her husband, protect Ro from him.
“What do you think, Cam? Like it? If you do, say nothing.” He waited again and grinned at himself. “I knew you would.
“So what’s a nice girl like you doing out in a desolate system like this? The same thing we are perhaps? Or I should say that Doctor Croft and Thorev are. Now the Doctor will be very keen on what you know about this place, she’s a little obsessed; though I can understand why.”
He started telling her about the job they’d been hired to do, the five months they’d spent at warp, and the fact that the first system they’d been to looked to be as dead as it’d been reported to be. “I was heading for the next planet they were going to survey when I picked up your distress call,” he paused to yawn. “That was just yesterday evening, which means I’ve been up for almost the whole day. No wonder I’m so tired. And in about five hours I have to be on the bridge, watching the sensors.
“You’ve probably had enough of me rambling anyway, so I’ll let you sleep in peace—so I can go get some myself, I don’t think the Cap would like it if I fell asleep at my post right now.” He rested his hand on hers. “I’ll be back—”
He felt a slight pressure on his fingers, which made him look down at their hands then up to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her long ears were twitching subtly. He smiled to himself as he tapped the communicator on his wrist.
“Sister Inaia, something’s happening.”
* * * * *
Rachel Croft, personal log. Stardate: 54756.3.
We managed to complete the download of the alien ships active computer memory and return to the Eclipse, without any sign of whoever was behind the attack. Whilst the Cluster may not be right next to Breen space, given they are just over three sectors away, utilise type-three disruptors and some of their ships are equipped with cloaks, then they would be the most logical candidate for whoever it was. I just can’t see what they would’ve gained from attacking a minimally armed ship like that, but then again the Breen are still a mystery—one I don’t think we’ll ever truly figure out.
By the time we returned to the bridge, Zirayne already had us heading for system Beta, saying that we’ll have a better chance to hide from whoever it is and plan our next move. Given the system has six planets, three of which are gas giants, over thirty moons, and a dense asteroid belt then it is a logical place to seek refuge. She even suggested using the magnetic pole of one of the outer planets moons as a natural cloak. The Captain agreed and once we entered the blind spot main power was cut and all sensors were switched to passive scans.
The mood onboard has never been this tense. Though I may not know the crew that well, their camaraderie and banter was evident, but even that has stopped. The oppressive sense of unease has filled every square meter of the ship; all we can do is wait and see if we’re safe or about to be attacked like the alien ship.
The sole survivor remains in sickbay, being treated by Sister Inaia. There’s no word yet on just what her condition is. I can only hope that she pulls through, not only can she provide us with information as to who might’ve attacked them but also what happened in the Cluster—I can only assume that they were here to study it as well.
Despite the terse time we face, after hours spent watching every sensor screen on the bridge without incident, the Captain has ordered his crew to work in shifts. Keeping someone monitoring the scans for any activity at all times, so the rest can get some rest. If there’s one thing I can say about Nathan Maguire it’s that I truly admire his dedication to his crew, I genuinely believe he would do anything for them without a moment’s hesitation. Had he chosen to enter Starfleet he would’ve made an incredible officer.
Though they may not be on the bridge, I suspect some of the crew aren’t resting. Thorev did say that he was going to start going through the database we transferred over, to see what he could find. Before I could offer to help him out, he told me to get some sleep—highlighting the fact that since we got to the Cluster I’ve been getting even less than on our journey here. Had I not been yawing at the time I might’ve disputed his statement. Of course, now that I am trying to rest then I feel more awake than before.
There’s one question going round in my head, one I don’t particularly want to address even though it needs to be. What—
The door chimed.
Croft paused the recording of her log, which she had continued to make ever since taking her leave of absence, using it as a means of getting all her thoughts out in the open so she could at least organise them into some coherent stream. She set the PADD on the bedside cabinet and sat up on her bunk.
“Come in.”
She wasn’t sure just who might’ve been calling along her, especially in the middle of the night, though there were a couple of most likely candidates. The hatch receded into the bulkhead with a soft swish and the opening was almost filled by a tall and broad frame. It wasn’t Thorev, who’d been her first assumption.
“May I enter?” Maguire asked.
“Of course, Captain,” she said, pulling the blanket off of her and standing as he stepped into her cabin. Her usual sleep attire was a vest and shorts, so she had slightly more clothes on than the last time they’d encountered one another in the middle of the night. She’d taken her raven black hair down before trying to sleep and it now hung over her bare shoulders, but she swept it clear of her face.
“I thought I heard you talking,” he said softly, once the door closed behind him.
She blushed and glanced back at the PADD. “I was just making a log entry, old habit.”
He chuckled. “I always feel daft making entries on the ship’s log, sitting talking to an empty room.”
“It can be quite therapeutic, so long as no one reads your inner most thoughts.”
He gave her that same boyishly charming smile once again and she found herself grinning, before quickly realising and composing her expression once more. Though she’d always known, it wasn’t until then that she realised just how small her quarters were. There was no chance to keep her distance, no way maintain some sense of professional decorum (especially not in her state of undress). They both stood only a couple of meters apart, which was almost the sum of the free floor space she had. Whether he knew it or not, Maguire’s presence certainly filled a room.
“I’m sorry for intruding so late, if I hadn’t heard you it would’ve waited until morning, but this is something that we can’t beat around the bush with.”
She nodded, knowing what was coming. The question that she knew would be and the one she didn’t want to face, but knew they’d have to address for the safety of everyone.
“What do we do now?” she finished for him.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, holding her eyes. “I was happy to take you out here, spend two or three months ferrying you around the Cluster, then take you back. There were always risks attached to it, but this is something entirely different. If the Breen, or someone else, is actively attacking ships then we can’t stay.”
Croft nodded. She understood where he was coming from, knew that he would place their safety above all else, even the job she was paying him for out of her own pocket (from the family fortune that the Croft’s had accumulated for generations), her obsession to figure out what had happened in the Cluster wouldn’t be factoring very highly for him—even if it was what filled her days in recent months. But as much as she knew all that, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of anger, loss and defeat.
Keeping her emotions in check she looked at him evenly. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk your ship or crew under these circumstances, Captain.”
He took a step closer, which put him within arm’s reach and meant she needed to tilt her head upwards to hold his look. Her heart thundered in her chest and she felt goose bumps rise on her bare skin.
“However,” he continued, his voice low, “if someone is here attacking other ships, it could mean they’re trying to hide something—maybe something to do with what happened to the Cluster.”
“I…if,” her voice caught so she quickly cleared her throat. “If they can decimate six star systems then I would’ve thought that there would be nothing but dust left of a simple ship. But some outside force could well be behind what happened here.”
“What would it take for someone to manage something like this?”
“Something spectacular and terrifying,” she admitted. “Even Cardassian strip mining wouldn’t cause this kind of devastation. There was the Crystalline Entity, it consumed all organic matter from planets but would’ve left the minerals and metals behind, though the only known one was destroyed nine years ago. Maybe there are similar beings that thrive on inorganic matter in the same way. But I’ve never heard of anything like this, nor of any other attacks like the Crystalline Entity in almost a decade.”
“So whoever else is out here could have a planet-eating monster with them?”
“It sounds a little ridiculous when you say it like that, but there could be some kind of lifeform behind this and the alien ship was attacked by poachers.”
“Who’d be crazy enough to hunt down something that can devastate a planet?”
“I’m trying to look at all possibilities, Captain.”
“You know, Doctor Croft, you can call me Nathan or even Nate.”
She wasn’t an impulsive woman. The only time she could ever say that she acted without thinking was when she’d decided to head out to the Cluster off her own back, everything else in her life was well thought out and planned (except in cases when her instincts had kicked in to save her life or others) but in that moment, in the dim light of her very cramped cabin, all she wanted was to be with the man before her—hell, she was practically naked anyway. The intensity of his presence, the allure and charm of the man with his boyish smile and kind eyes, she had to fight the urge that ever fibre in her being was telling her to succumb too. This definitely wasn’t the time for such things, but it was hard to resist. Other than a no-strings-attached arrangement with a shipmate during the war, her last serious dalliance hadn’t been since before her mission on the Lancelot and that had been a tremendous disappointment.
As much as she was telling herself not to give in, to keep their relationship professional, to focus on the very real threat they now faced, she felt her right leg about to move, to take a step closer to him which would make what happened next inescapable.
“Mineralogical analysis complete,” the automated alert from the computer droned, quenching the mood and bringing her back to reality once more.
Before the alien ship had been discovered, she’d set the analyser going and programmed the computer to notify her when the results were ready, then forgotten all about it given what happened since then. She broke eye contact, turning her back to him and trying to think once more about what she was really there for. Behind her she felt more than heard him step away, giving her a little space once more.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned back to see that he had moved away slightly, which made her both relieved and disappointed. She picked up her PADD again, to give her hands something to do other than claw at his shirt.
“I’d better check on that,” she said meekly.
He nodded. “I won’t make any decisions right now, not until we’ve had a chance to go through the ships’ computers and spoken to the survivor, see if either can shed some light on what’s going on.”
“That’d be appreciated, Captain.”
“I’ll let you get back to work, Doctor, just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard.”
She gave him a faint smile. “I won’t.” He returned the smile, turned back to her door and left with a hurried awkwardness that made him even more endearing. When the door closed and she was alone once again, she added, “Nathan.”
* * * * *
Sickbay was located in the middle of B Deck, near the transporter room, to provide it with as much protection as possible. The double doors opened onto the medical facilities two beds and to the right was the sole workstation, as well as access to the store for equipment and drugs. Ro Sandoval stepped in and his eyes were immediately locked onto the occupied bed. He approached it slowly, looking at the resting face of the young woman, whose complexion was a much healthier pinkish colour.
He couldn’t explain why he’d become so invested in her call for help, but something about the tone of her voice had struck a chord with him. He just hoped that they’d gotten to her in time and that she would be alright.
Stopping at the side of her bed he looked down at her, noting the tubes and apparatus she was hooked up to, but the monitor at the head of the bed beeped steadily and her chest rose and fell regularly. He wasn’t any kind of medic, but to him things looked hopeful. Turning from the equipment, he focused on her round face, large eyes closed, and her long tapered ears on the top of her head drooped over the pillow.
“Ro?” a soft voice asked from behind him.
Startled, he spun towards it and saw a tired-looking Inaia standing, looking at him. “Sister, I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
She smiled at him and shook her head, moving to the other side of the bed. “It’s alright, you can stay. She’s resting quite peacefully for now. It was a little touch-and-go when I first got her back onboard, given her exposure to those conditions, but her species seems remarkably resilient. I just need to monitor her and slowly build her strength up, other than that her own body is doing most of the work.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and found himself grinning like an idiot. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Inaia pressed a small silver device to her temple, which staying in place and began humming softly. She looked up at him and noted the confused look on his face. “It’s a neural sensor. It will scan her brain and nervous system, seeing as how I have nothing on her species I need to collect as much information as I can for a baseline. It will also monitor her neural activity and can alert me if there are any problems or if she’s waking up.”
“Are you going?”
“She’s stable, safe and making a remarkable recovery, I was just about to head back to my cabin for a little rest. The sensor will alert me of the slightest change.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll head back to my bunk as well; don’t want to get in the way.”
Inaia rested a hand on his bicep. “You stay as long as you like. Just don’t press anything.”
“Sister, I always watch where I put my feet when I come in here, so I can assure you I’m not about to start pushing any buttons.”
“Good. If anything happens or if you have any questions, just comm me.”
“You got it, Sister. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Ro.”
He watched the Deltan leave, her long gown and robe fluttering behind her as she walked. Once the doors closed, he was left alone with the unconscious woman and a room filled with odd noises. He shuddered as he looked at all the complex equipment. He definitely wasn’t built for anything like this, flying a ship was far more straight forward and much less stressful.
After a few minutes he started to feel a little ridiculous, what could he do that a trained professional like the Sister couldn’t? He didn’t even know the woman’s name, didn’t know a thing about her, he couldn’t offer her anything but empty platitudes. He really should leave her to sleep, if anything changed then Inaia would be here in moments to see to her.
But even though his rational mind told him to leave, his feet were rooted to the spot, whilst his eyes never left her lovely face. Inexplicably he felt the need to watch over her, protect her, had done since the first time he’d heard her voice.
He pulled a stool over from the corner and sat at the side of her bed, feeling well out of his comfort zone but determined to stay with her as long as he could. “Hi,” he started his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Ro. You’re safe. You’re onboard our ship, the Eclipse. Inaia says you’re tough and pulling through. When you wake up you’ll have a lot of people interested in what you’ve got to say, about yourself, your planet, what happened to your ship, but we won’t push you.
“What else,” he muttered to himself, not quite sure what he should say. He gave a dry laugh. “I don’t usually find it quite so hard to talk, just ask Kell, but I have to admit I feel a little silly sitting here talking to someone whose unconscious—even if they do say that hearing is the first sense to recover. Feels very one-sided, I mean, I could spill all my deepest darkest secrets, that you may or may not hear, and I’d know nothing about you. So why don’t we start with what’s your name?”
He paused. She didn’t answer, not that he’d expected her too. “No? Well I could give you a name, something to call you until you wake up. Ok?” She still didn’t answer. “Alright then, we’ll go with...Cam. Short for Cameron, my mother’s name—don’t read anything into that, I’m not saying you look like her though you seem to have the same fighting spirit. She needed it, marrying a crazy Klingon. He gave me some god awful traditional name, but she always called me ‘Ro’ which is why I use it now—it’s a little way I like to remember her.” He stopped that train of thought, knowing that he didn’t want to dwell on the day his mother was murdered at the hands of her husband, protect Ro from him.
“What do you think, Cam? Like it? If you do, say nothing.” He waited again and grinned at himself. “I knew you would.
“So what’s a nice girl like you doing out in a desolate system like this? The same thing we are perhaps? Or I should say that Doctor Croft and Thorev are. Now the Doctor will be very keen on what you know about this place, she’s a little obsessed; though I can understand why.”
He started telling her about the job they’d been hired to do, the five months they’d spent at warp, and the fact that the first system they’d been to looked to be as dead as it’d been reported to be. “I was heading for the next planet they were going to survey when I picked up your distress call,” he paused to yawn. “That was just yesterday evening, which means I’ve been up for almost the whole day. No wonder I’m so tired. And in about five hours I have to be on the bridge, watching the sensors.
“You’ve probably had enough of me rambling anyway, so I’ll let you sleep in peace—so I can go get some myself, I don’t think the Cap would like it if I fell asleep at my post right now.” He rested his hand on hers. “I’ll be back—”
He felt a slight pressure on his fingers, which made him look down at their hands then up to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her long ears were twitching subtly. He smiled to himself as he tapped the communicator on his wrist.
“Sister Inaia, something’s happening.”
* * * * *
On Andor, Thorev was what was termed a ‘divergent’. A freak mutation had caused him to be born and develop out with what was seen as normal for his species; as such he’d always been a thing of shame for most of his family and pity by others. How he was perceived was the reason he’d left and joined Starfleet, knowing that there he wouldn’t be judged for his anatomical differences but rather his service and contribution to the fleet. But whilst there were some of his own people who may not have seen him as a true Andorian, he knew that inside he was just like any of them, which was where his considerable stamina and endurance came from.
These traits were what helped keep him going, looking over all the data that had been transferred back from the alien ship, the name of which he’d learnt was the Kada-Mos, in the comm-scan room. He had worked for a short time with Kell Sined, before she’d gone below to get some rest before her shift watching the sensors for hostiles. The Trill definitely knew her stuff and her absence was felt, even just to bounce ideas off one another, but her first duty would be to the ship and helping to keep it and all those onboard safe.
He’d had to fight the urge to dedicate some of his monitors to the search for other ships; there were plenty of others would be doing that. He needed to stay on the files and records from the Kada-Mos, looking for something about who attacked them so the Eclipse’s crew would at least know who they were watching for and devise some means of defence against them.
From what he’d read so far, he knew the Kada-Mos belonged to the Tauan Interstellar Service and that the ship had left its homeworld three months ago, arriving in the Cluster a couple of weeks before the Eclipse had and begun their scouting in system Gamma. Though he couldn’t see what their findings had been, the damage the ship had taken had taken its toll on their computers with lots of areas missing or too badly corrupted to be retrievable. One of the things he couldn’t find was the crew roster, so he couldn’t offer any help with naming the lone survivor in sickbay.
The computer was slowly making its way through all the files; scanning them for viruses, then implementing recovery algorithms on the damaged records before running them through the universal translator. It was a time consuming process, but had to be done to keep the Eclipse’s computers safe as well as giving him the best chance to find something of use. It was one of the rare times since coming onboard the courier that he wished they had a modern Starfleet central processor, which would be able to carry out the work far quicker. A part of him felt guilty for the thought as he liked the little ship and her eclectic crew, had they been on the go twelve years ago when he’d left Andor then he may have signed on with them instead of Starfleet.
He’d finished the last batch of records and was waiting on the computer finishing up the next lot, that were taking longer than the others as it looked like some of the files were encrypted, so he took the opportunity to stretch out. He may not have felt tired sitting in front of the large console, but his muscles were threatening to tighten up painfully on him. Though three of his parents had been ashamed by him and his ‘deformity’, his shreya, an officer in the Andorian Guard, had been the only one who had shown him any sort of parental affection. She had taught him a lot through his formative years, from how to hunt to meditative exercises, which he continued to use to help him relax and unwind.
The comm-scan room was tight, but he was able to compensate his moves to make up for the lack of space. Starting at his head and working down his neck, into his shoulders, arms and back, then to his hips before going all the way down to his toes. He moved every muscle and joint in a slow pattern, cutting through the air with the elegance of a dancer, his breathing deep and even, tensing and relaxing as he moved, increasing the blood flow throughout his body, stretching out and relaxing his taut muscles. He was focused inwards, concentrating on his breaths and each manoeuvre that he performed, though all were committed to muscle memory, until he was finished and stood straight, head bowed down to his chest.
“I never thought you’d be quite so graceful,” a soft deep voice announced from behind him.
His antennae perked up as he turned his head, surprised that he hadn’t heard or sensed someone enter. Upon seeing Telak standing just inside the room, the door behind him closed, he couldn’t help but smile. “Years of practice,” he said, turning towards the Romulan. “It’s saved me from many a muscle strain.”
“How are you getting on with the download?”
“Slowly,” he admitted just as the computer chirped, announcing that the next batch of files were ready for review. “Is the system drawing too much power?” he enquired, worried that the work was causing problems for the ships reduced power levels.
“Not at all,” Telak assured him. “I thought I’d come and see what help I can offer.”
Thorev turned back to the console. “An extra pair of eyes would be very much appreciated, even more so if you know anything about circumventing computer encryptions.”
Telak stepped over to the large station as Thorev slipped back into the seat, leaning closer to get a better look. As he did, Thorev found himself looking at the pattern of tattoos on the engineers’ neck that disappeared into the neck of his t-shirt, marvelling at the artistry that went into work.
“Hmm,” mused Telak, breaking his admiration and making him focus on the myriad of monitors. “You’d really want Zirayne to look at this, she could probably crack it in her sleep, but she’ll be too focused on tracking Breen. I do know a few things, so can give it a go.” He looked down at the seated Andorian. “I’m surprised Starfleet doesn’t train you in such things.”
“Computer hacking isn’t a required course at basic training.”
“We’ll see what we can do. I’ll log in and start focusing in on the secured files, leave you to look over everything else. Sound reasonable?”
“Be my guest,” he beamed.
Telak gave a nod then moved over to the secondary console and set to work. The newest batch was all routine scans and diagnostic results, mostly from the ship on its journey from its home system to the Cluster. He had found that the closer he got to the moment the ship was attacked the greater the damage, which could mean they may never find out what had happened to them.
Though he was focused on the task at hand, Thorev was also very aware that he was once again presented with a chance to figure out the elusive Romulan once more.
“Won’t you need to rest up, in case they need you in the engine room?” he asked, not looking away from the monitors.
“I’ve rigged the ship’s entire main power distribution system into a single control path, that can be activated from the bridge, any of the engineering decks, even in here, so if we need to power up at a moment’s notice then anyone can enter the sequence and we’ll be back to full in seconds.”
He paused and looked across the small room. “That’s impressive.”
Telak glanced back, a faint smile threatening to tug on his lips. “When you’re the only engineer onboard a ship you need to figure out ways to keep it running smoothly, without living in the engine room.”
“And here I thought you did,” he quipped, then kicked himself for immediately.
A scowl darkened Telak’s handsome features, giving him a broody edge.
“Sorry. It’s just I’ve been onboard for five months and this last few days is the most I’ve seen you in all that time,” he backpedalled, trying to alleviate any offense or damage he might’ve caused. “I guess I assumed that all of the crew would be very sociable.”
He opened his mouth then stopped, closed it and turned back to his console. The atmosphere in the room became chilly and sullen. Thorev focused his attention on the Kada-Mos’ records, scouring them for anything of relevance or interest, but he couldn’t push to the side how he’d effectively burnt his bridges with Telak.
Open mouth, insert foot, he scolded himself. He suspected that trying to add anything more would only make it worse, so stayed quiet and worked.
For his entire career he’d always been for being easy-going and likeable, he made friends readily with his fellow non-coms and a few officers. His personable, helpful manner saw him connect easily with others, especially those who, like him, were seen as ‘outcasts’. But somehow, all his talents had failed on the Romulan and now he’d have to deal with the fact that, for however long he remained onboard, it would be as awkward as it was in that moment.
He just wished that there was something more intriguing to get his teeth into that dry diagnostic reports and routine sensor sweeps, none of which offered anything of use. The computer was working on the next batch, but that would take some time to be completed, so he was stuck with what he had. He could always excuse himself, take a break and get something from the mess, hope that it may alleviate the tension in the comm-scan room—maybe even bring Telak back something as a peace offering, though given his current streak he’d take back something the other man hated.
“Sorry.”
The single word, barely a whisper, was almost lost under the nearly inaudible hiss of the atmospheric processor in the ceiling. For a moment, Thorev thought he imagined it before he glanced back at Telak and saw he’d stopped working, though still faced the screens.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
Telak looked at him. “I’m sorry for being so abrupt. I’m just not used to someone wanting to know about me.”
“None of the crew asked you about yourself?”
“They did in the beginning, but after a while they stopped asking. I guess I was a little too good at keeping them at arm’s length.”
“That’s understandable; we all have things we don’t want to share. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable, and if I have then I apologise.”
Telak’s station beeped. “Looks like I’m through the encryption.” He studied the new sections of data and frowned. “I think I’ve got something here—sensor telemetry from the Gamma system.”
Thorev stood and moved over, leaning forward just as the engineer had done. “Why would that be encrypted?”
“It looks like they carried out several deep scans and found something under the surface on one of the planets or moons. The data’s heavily fragmented, I can’t tell which one.”
“Maybe this was why they were attacked.”
Thorev and Telak looked at one another. “All we need to figure out now is what they found and who attacked them.”
He smiled at the rugged Romulan. “Let’s see what else we can find then.”
* * * * *
“Approaching the position of the alien ship, Captain,” Sholoq snivelled from the helm.
Rai Gahn settled into his customary seat in the middle of the bridge and scowled at the pathetic Yridian. Had he not been a decent pilot then Gahn would’ve seen about replacing him long ago, fortunately the spineless worm followed orders without question and knew how to get the most out of the eighty year old Bird-of-Prey.
“Drop us out of warp and hold position,” he commanded then turned towards Yausi. “Initiate full scan. Riajj, ready all weapons,” he barked at his Boslic gunner.
As his crew worked his first mate, the buxom B’Neth, sidled up to him. “If there was anyone left alive onboard, they’ll be dead by now and with it the only other people who know what we’ve found.”
“I am picking up a very faint communications signal coming from the ship,” stated Yausi. “It looks like the power source is draining rapidly; I doubt they would’ve had enough power to broadcast outside of the cluster.”
The Red Orion felt his hackles rise. He’d never been so severely let down by his crew before and couldn’t believe that they had done so now, not when he was on the cusp of having the greatest weapons ever built at his disposal. When he’d first agreed to take the Professor, he’d thought it was an easy way to make some latinum, milking the scientist dry of all that he had, then he could dump him on a planet and be done with the human. He’d never expected the man of harbouring such a secret—one Yausi had managed to manipulate and pluck from the Professors mind with all of her talents.
Once they had the real reason for the man’s journey, they’d gone in search of it and found what he had been looking for in the third system; a vast repository of incredible alien technology, the likes of which had never been seen of before. Gahn no longer needed the Professor’s money, not when he now had the means of conquering any system or any species he wanted at his fingertips—the sort of power that would make all others terrified of him, even the Federation and Klingon Empire! After making the discovery he’d planned on slitting the Professor’s throat, until they’d tried to activate some of the devices. One of them had vaporised two mercenaries to subatomic particles, another would’ve exploded with enough force to take out the entire moon, and the third had affected the entire cluster—though he had no idea how. Given how unpredictable and unstable they seemed to be, he had kept the Professor alive for one specific job, to unlock their secrets and give Gahn the power he deserved.
Slowly, he rose from his seat and turned to the Ullian. She must’ve sensed his shift in emotions as she looked up at him, her cold blue eyes holding his fiery yellow ones. “And what if they did manage to signal another ship?”
“Then they would find the same thing we are, a lifeless husk. The only bio-readings I’m getting are inactive. Whoever was alive is dead now.”
“They won’t even find that!” he snapped then spun to Riajj. “Disengage cloak. Lock all weapons on that ship and fire!”
“Yes Captain,” the muscular young man replied.
Seconds later, the lighting levels increased as the ship dropped its cloak. There was a faint rumble under his feet as the torpedo launcher beneath him came to life. He looked back at the screen in time to see a single torpedo and two pulses from the wing-mounted disruptors tear into the alien ship, ripping it apart and propelling debris out in every direction. He smiled to himself.
No one would take his prize away from him. No one.
* * * * *
These traits were what helped keep him going, looking over all the data that had been transferred back from the alien ship, the name of which he’d learnt was the Kada-Mos, in the comm-scan room. He had worked for a short time with Kell Sined, before she’d gone below to get some rest before her shift watching the sensors for hostiles. The Trill definitely knew her stuff and her absence was felt, even just to bounce ideas off one another, but her first duty would be to the ship and helping to keep it and all those onboard safe.
He’d had to fight the urge to dedicate some of his monitors to the search for other ships; there were plenty of others would be doing that. He needed to stay on the files and records from the Kada-Mos, looking for something about who attacked them so the Eclipse’s crew would at least know who they were watching for and devise some means of defence against them.
From what he’d read so far, he knew the Kada-Mos belonged to the Tauan Interstellar Service and that the ship had left its homeworld three months ago, arriving in the Cluster a couple of weeks before the Eclipse had and begun their scouting in system Gamma. Though he couldn’t see what their findings had been, the damage the ship had taken had taken its toll on their computers with lots of areas missing or too badly corrupted to be retrievable. One of the things he couldn’t find was the crew roster, so he couldn’t offer any help with naming the lone survivor in sickbay.
The computer was slowly making its way through all the files; scanning them for viruses, then implementing recovery algorithms on the damaged records before running them through the universal translator. It was a time consuming process, but had to be done to keep the Eclipse’s computers safe as well as giving him the best chance to find something of use. It was one of the rare times since coming onboard the courier that he wished they had a modern Starfleet central processor, which would be able to carry out the work far quicker. A part of him felt guilty for the thought as he liked the little ship and her eclectic crew, had they been on the go twelve years ago when he’d left Andor then he may have signed on with them instead of Starfleet.
He’d finished the last batch of records and was waiting on the computer finishing up the next lot, that were taking longer than the others as it looked like some of the files were encrypted, so he took the opportunity to stretch out. He may not have felt tired sitting in front of the large console, but his muscles were threatening to tighten up painfully on him. Though three of his parents had been ashamed by him and his ‘deformity’, his shreya, an officer in the Andorian Guard, had been the only one who had shown him any sort of parental affection. She had taught him a lot through his formative years, from how to hunt to meditative exercises, which he continued to use to help him relax and unwind.
The comm-scan room was tight, but he was able to compensate his moves to make up for the lack of space. Starting at his head and working down his neck, into his shoulders, arms and back, then to his hips before going all the way down to his toes. He moved every muscle and joint in a slow pattern, cutting through the air with the elegance of a dancer, his breathing deep and even, tensing and relaxing as he moved, increasing the blood flow throughout his body, stretching out and relaxing his taut muscles. He was focused inwards, concentrating on his breaths and each manoeuvre that he performed, though all were committed to muscle memory, until he was finished and stood straight, head bowed down to his chest.
“I never thought you’d be quite so graceful,” a soft deep voice announced from behind him.
His antennae perked up as he turned his head, surprised that he hadn’t heard or sensed someone enter. Upon seeing Telak standing just inside the room, the door behind him closed, he couldn’t help but smile. “Years of practice,” he said, turning towards the Romulan. “It’s saved me from many a muscle strain.”
“How are you getting on with the download?”
“Slowly,” he admitted just as the computer chirped, announcing that the next batch of files were ready for review. “Is the system drawing too much power?” he enquired, worried that the work was causing problems for the ships reduced power levels.
“Not at all,” Telak assured him. “I thought I’d come and see what help I can offer.”
Thorev turned back to the console. “An extra pair of eyes would be very much appreciated, even more so if you know anything about circumventing computer encryptions.”
Telak stepped over to the large station as Thorev slipped back into the seat, leaning closer to get a better look. As he did, Thorev found himself looking at the pattern of tattoos on the engineers’ neck that disappeared into the neck of his t-shirt, marvelling at the artistry that went into work.
“Hmm,” mused Telak, breaking his admiration and making him focus on the myriad of monitors. “You’d really want Zirayne to look at this, she could probably crack it in her sleep, but she’ll be too focused on tracking Breen. I do know a few things, so can give it a go.” He looked down at the seated Andorian. “I’m surprised Starfleet doesn’t train you in such things.”
“Computer hacking isn’t a required course at basic training.”
“We’ll see what we can do. I’ll log in and start focusing in on the secured files, leave you to look over everything else. Sound reasonable?”
“Be my guest,” he beamed.
Telak gave a nod then moved over to the secondary console and set to work. The newest batch was all routine scans and diagnostic results, mostly from the ship on its journey from its home system to the Cluster. He had found that the closer he got to the moment the ship was attacked the greater the damage, which could mean they may never find out what had happened to them.
Though he was focused on the task at hand, Thorev was also very aware that he was once again presented with a chance to figure out the elusive Romulan once more.
“Won’t you need to rest up, in case they need you in the engine room?” he asked, not looking away from the monitors.
“I’ve rigged the ship’s entire main power distribution system into a single control path, that can be activated from the bridge, any of the engineering decks, even in here, so if we need to power up at a moment’s notice then anyone can enter the sequence and we’ll be back to full in seconds.”
He paused and looked across the small room. “That’s impressive.”
Telak glanced back, a faint smile threatening to tug on his lips. “When you’re the only engineer onboard a ship you need to figure out ways to keep it running smoothly, without living in the engine room.”
“And here I thought you did,” he quipped, then kicked himself for immediately.
A scowl darkened Telak’s handsome features, giving him a broody edge.
“Sorry. It’s just I’ve been onboard for five months and this last few days is the most I’ve seen you in all that time,” he backpedalled, trying to alleviate any offense or damage he might’ve caused. “I guess I assumed that all of the crew would be very sociable.”
He opened his mouth then stopped, closed it and turned back to his console. The atmosphere in the room became chilly and sullen. Thorev focused his attention on the Kada-Mos’ records, scouring them for anything of relevance or interest, but he couldn’t push to the side how he’d effectively burnt his bridges with Telak.
Open mouth, insert foot, he scolded himself. He suspected that trying to add anything more would only make it worse, so stayed quiet and worked.
For his entire career he’d always been for being easy-going and likeable, he made friends readily with his fellow non-coms and a few officers. His personable, helpful manner saw him connect easily with others, especially those who, like him, were seen as ‘outcasts’. But somehow, all his talents had failed on the Romulan and now he’d have to deal with the fact that, for however long he remained onboard, it would be as awkward as it was in that moment.
He just wished that there was something more intriguing to get his teeth into that dry diagnostic reports and routine sensor sweeps, none of which offered anything of use. The computer was working on the next batch, but that would take some time to be completed, so he was stuck with what he had. He could always excuse himself, take a break and get something from the mess, hope that it may alleviate the tension in the comm-scan room—maybe even bring Telak back something as a peace offering, though given his current streak he’d take back something the other man hated.
“Sorry.”
The single word, barely a whisper, was almost lost under the nearly inaudible hiss of the atmospheric processor in the ceiling. For a moment, Thorev thought he imagined it before he glanced back at Telak and saw he’d stopped working, though still faced the screens.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
Telak looked at him. “I’m sorry for being so abrupt. I’m just not used to someone wanting to know about me.”
“None of the crew asked you about yourself?”
“They did in the beginning, but after a while they stopped asking. I guess I was a little too good at keeping them at arm’s length.”
“That’s understandable; we all have things we don’t want to share. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable, and if I have then I apologise.”
Telak’s station beeped. “Looks like I’m through the encryption.” He studied the new sections of data and frowned. “I think I’ve got something here—sensor telemetry from the Gamma system.”
Thorev stood and moved over, leaning forward just as the engineer had done. “Why would that be encrypted?”
“It looks like they carried out several deep scans and found something under the surface on one of the planets or moons. The data’s heavily fragmented, I can’t tell which one.”
“Maybe this was why they were attacked.”
Thorev and Telak looked at one another. “All we need to figure out now is what they found and who attacked them.”
He smiled at the rugged Romulan. “Let’s see what else we can find then.”
* * * * *
“Approaching the position of the alien ship, Captain,” Sholoq snivelled from the helm.
Rai Gahn settled into his customary seat in the middle of the bridge and scowled at the pathetic Yridian. Had he not been a decent pilot then Gahn would’ve seen about replacing him long ago, fortunately the spineless worm followed orders without question and knew how to get the most out of the eighty year old Bird-of-Prey.
“Drop us out of warp and hold position,” he commanded then turned towards Yausi. “Initiate full scan. Riajj, ready all weapons,” he barked at his Boslic gunner.
As his crew worked his first mate, the buxom B’Neth, sidled up to him. “If there was anyone left alive onboard, they’ll be dead by now and with it the only other people who know what we’ve found.”
“I am picking up a very faint communications signal coming from the ship,” stated Yausi. “It looks like the power source is draining rapidly; I doubt they would’ve had enough power to broadcast outside of the cluster.”
The Red Orion felt his hackles rise. He’d never been so severely let down by his crew before and couldn’t believe that they had done so now, not when he was on the cusp of having the greatest weapons ever built at his disposal. When he’d first agreed to take the Professor, he’d thought it was an easy way to make some latinum, milking the scientist dry of all that he had, then he could dump him on a planet and be done with the human. He’d never expected the man of harbouring such a secret—one Yausi had managed to manipulate and pluck from the Professors mind with all of her talents.
Once they had the real reason for the man’s journey, they’d gone in search of it and found what he had been looking for in the third system; a vast repository of incredible alien technology, the likes of which had never been seen of before. Gahn no longer needed the Professor’s money, not when he now had the means of conquering any system or any species he wanted at his fingertips—the sort of power that would make all others terrified of him, even the Federation and Klingon Empire! After making the discovery he’d planned on slitting the Professor’s throat, until they’d tried to activate some of the devices. One of them had vaporised two mercenaries to subatomic particles, another would’ve exploded with enough force to take out the entire moon, and the third had affected the entire cluster—though he had no idea how. Given how unpredictable and unstable they seemed to be, he had kept the Professor alive for one specific job, to unlock their secrets and give Gahn the power he deserved.
Slowly, he rose from his seat and turned to the Ullian. She must’ve sensed his shift in emotions as she looked up at him, her cold blue eyes holding his fiery yellow ones. “And what if they did manage to signal another ship?”
“Then they would find the same thing we are, a lifeless husk. The only bio-readings I’m getting are inactive. Whoever was alive is dead now.”
“They won’t even find that!” he snapped then spun to Riajj. “Disengage cloak. Lock all weapons on that ship and fire!”
“Yes Captain,” the muscular young man replied.
Seconds later, the lighting levels increased as the ship dropped its cloak. There was a faint rumble under his feet as the torpedo launcher beneath him came to life. He looked back at the screen in time to see a single torpedo and two pulses from the wing-mounted disruptors tear into the alien ship, ripping it apart and propelling debris out in every direction. He smiled to himself.
No one would take his prize away from him. No one.
* * * * *
