Star Trek: Vanguard 01: Harbinger

by David Mack

  Gannon’s voice snapped, “Evasive, starboard!”

  D’Amato accelerated into a looping corkscrew maneuver that almost overwhelmed the inertial dampeners. No matter which way she went, one of the six Tholian cruisers appeared in her path, or another volley of Tholian ordnance cut her off. She had been mostly successful at evading the enemy’s attacks, but the hits they had scored had proved to be substantial. “I need covering fire,” she said to anyone who was listening.

  The response was quick. “Target lock!” Berry said.

  Milonakis answered, “Fire!”

  Phaser beams slashed across a Tholian cruiser’s shields, and a pair of torpedoes knocked it off course, clearing a small gap in their encircling formation. D’Amato piloted the hobbled Bombay through the slim passage, only to note that the enemy ships were already regrouped and moving to intercept them again.

  “Berry,” Gannon said, “plot a warp jump—fast.”

  Tactics were not exactly D’Amato’s specialty, but she knew that the Bombay’s best move was to escape. Standing toe-to-toe with six Tholian ships was a losing proposition, and surrender wasn’t an option. Despite her limited experience with Tholians, even D’Amato knew that the reclusive aliens were said never to take prisoners. The fact that the enemy vessels were doing everything possible to block the Bombay’s retreat seemed to confirm the rumors.

  Three Tholian ships streaked past the Bombay, zigzagging across its forward quarter. “They did it again,” Berry said, pounding his fists on his console full of hastily plotted warp coordinates—now blinking with warning signals. “We’re cut off.”

  At the science station, ch’Shonnas bolted up from his sensor display. “Incoming!”

  Milonakis grabbed the railing. “Brace for—”

  It felt like the ship rammed into a brick wall. Darkness smothered the bridge. The thuds of tumbling bodies were barely audible beneath an explosive thundercrack, which tore a scream of terror from D’Amato as she was pinned against her helm console. She winced as secondary impacts shook the bridge around her. Eruptions of skin-searing fire and acrid smoke pelted her with incandescent bits of debris.

  The seconds it took the emergency lighting to engage were some of the longest D’Amato had ever lived through.

  Dim yellowish orange illumination faded up slowly, obscured behind a heavy curtain of thick gray smoke. Ceiling struts hung in twisted bundles, and a load-bearing cross-beam had broken free and smashed through the port-side consoles and railing. Pinned beneath it, lifeless eyes open and staring in D’Amato’s direction, was Commander Milonakis.

  D’Amato turned her head in the other direction to see that she had escaped a similar fate by less than a meter; Ensign Berry, however, had not been so fortunate. He was skewered to his seat, impaled through his chest by a fallen ceiling strut. D’Amato could only hope his death had been instantaneous.

  From behind her came the clatter of wreckage being kicked aside. She turned to see Captain Gannon extricating herself from her chair, which was surrounded by sparking, fallen cables. The captain looked scuffed and had a nasty laceration across her left cheek, just below the eye. The cut bled heavily, sheeting half her face with bright red blood. Without bothering to wipe it away, she stumbled forward to D’Amato. “Report.”

  “We’ve lost the starboard warp nacelle, Captain,” D’Amato said. Leaning over to check Berry’s console, she added, “Shields are gone. Phasers down to quarter power.”

  Gannon turned toward Nave, who was pulling herself back into her seat at communications. “Nave, did our mayday get out?”

  “No, sir,” Nave said. “The Tholians are jamming us.”

  “Prep the log buoy, ten-hour delay.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Lieutenant ch’Shonnas limped down the stairs from the science station. His right antenna was bent and bruised, and his slender nose now had a sharp break just below its bridge. “The Tholian ships have broken off their attack, Captain,” he said.

  D’Amato swelled with irrational hope. “They’re retreating?”

  “Not quite,” ch’Shonnas said. “They’ve regrouped and are bombarding Commander Singer’s outpost on Ravanar IV.”

  “Onscreen,” Gannon said.

  The science officer reached under Berry’s corpse and switched the main viewer image. The six vessels were now assembled in a tight grouping, firing in unison to deadly effect on the planet surface. Watching the awesome display of firepower was almost hypnotic. As horrified as D’Amato was, she was unable to make herself look away. Then a screech of metal drew her attention to ch’Shonnas, who yanked the fallen metal debris from Berry’s chest in a single pull. Free of the strut, Berry’s body fell sideways from his chair. With a look of grim sadness, ch’Shonnas dropped the blood-slicked length of duranium to the deck and sat down at the navigator’s station.

  Gannon stood behind ch’Shonnas and D’Amato and watched the Tholian ships on the screen. “D’Amato, are we still mobile?”

  “Barely. Impulse only, and that’s spotty.”

  “Is the warp reactor still online?”

  “One-quarter power only, sir.”

  The captain frowned. She leaned forward and opened an intraship channel. “Bridge to Mr. Judge.”

  Half out of breath, the chief engineer’s voice gasped over the intercom, “Judge here, Captain.”

  “Kevin, I need power, now. Impulse, warp core, batteries—all of it.”

  “The shield emitters are toast, Captain. I can have partial forward shields in six minutes if we—”

  “Forget shields. All power to tactical and impulse.”

  “I’m sorry? Did you say—”

  “There’s no time, Kevin. Phasers and propulsion. Now.”

  D’Amato was certain she heard Judge sigh in resignation.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “Give me sixty seconds. Judge out.”

  The channel closed. Gannon leaned forward and rested her hands on ch’Shonnas’s and D’Amato’s shoulders. “D’Amato, plot a ramming trajectory on the lead Tholian cruiser. Whatever she does, stay with her. Shal, target weapons manually. Hit that lead cruiser with everything you can.”

  Looking up at the captain, ch’Shonnas said, “Sir, the other ships will—”

  “Move to intercept. Yes, I know.” Gannon patted ch’Shonnas’s shoulder. “I know. Keep your sights on the leader.”

  Doubt nagged at D’Amato as she laid in the course. “Captain, if we start taking return fire, should I—”

  “Hold your course.”

  The captain didn’t need to say any more than that. D’Amato understood, and the shell-shocked glances that passed between herself, ch’Shonnas, and Nave confirmed that they, too, knew that this was going to be the Bombay’s last stand. “Aye, Captain. Helm ready.”

  Eyes fixed on the viewscreen image of the enemy formation, ch’Shonnas locked in his targeting solution. “Weapons ready.”

  Gannon reached down and opened the intraship channel. “Bridge to Mr. Judge. Report.”

  “A few more seconds, Captain. We’re patching in the emergency batteries now.”

  Seconds later, ch’Shonnas turned and nodded to Gannon. “Phasers at full, Captain.”

  Gannon switched channels. “Bridge to torpedo room.”

  “Torpedo room here,” a man’s voice said.

  “Mr. Vanderhoven, if you lose contact with the bridge, continue to fire at will. Concentrate your attacks on one enemy vessel at a time.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Closing the channel, Gannon straightened her posture. Blood dripped from her chin and speckled the front of her gold uniform dress. “Helm, all ahead full. Weapons, fire at will.”

  D’Amato engaged the impulse drive. The Bombay lurched forward, then accelerated swiftly on a course straight for the lead Tholian cruiser’s center of mass. Luminous blue phaser beams streaked ahead of them, followed moments later by a trio of photon torpedoes. The barrage lit up the normally invisible defensive cocoon of energy tha
t surrounded the vessel, which grew steadily larger on the main viewer. Flickering erratically, its shields dimpled. As the secondary phaser banks hammered them, the dimpling turned to buckling.

  The captain pointed at it. “Hit them again!”

  “Its wingmen are coming about,” ch’Shonnas said, firing another phaser burst.

  “Stay on the leader.”

  On the main viewer, a pair of Tholian ships broke formation and reversed direction, toward the Bombay. They accelerated forward, making tempting targets of themselves, no doubt to entice Gannon into dividing her attack. But they also were separating, to either side of the Bombay. “They’re flanking us,” D’Amato said.

  “Steady,” Gannon said.

  “We’re heading into a crossfire.”

  “Hold your course.”

  Three more torpedoes streaked away from the Bombay and pummeled the Tholian battle cruiser. Two more of its escorts began breaking formation, pivoting around to face the Bombay’s oncoming assault. The first two, meanwhile, closed to optimal firing distance on either side of the Starfleet frigate as ch’Shonnas unleashed another phaser barrage on the lead cruiser.

  Warnings blinked on D’Amato’s console. She turned toward the captain. “The escorts are locking weapons!” Her hands hovered over the controls, desperate to begin evasive maneuvers.

  Gannon’s tone was firm. “Hold your course.”

  The lead cruiser loomed large on the main viewer.

  Panic rose in ch’Shonnas’s voice. “They’re firing!”

  “Steady!”

  The Bombay pitched violently as the Tholian counterattack hit home. Static frizzed across the main viewscreen.

  Clutching the back of D’Amato’s chair for support, Gannon shouted over the pounding cacophony, “Damage report!”

  “Direct hit, port nacelle,” ch’Shonnas said.

  Nave stood at ch’Shonnas’s regular post. Staring into the blue glow of the sensor hood, she called out, “Hull breaches, decks eight through twelve, damage to—More incoming!”

  The sound and the shock-tremor were unlike anything D’Amato had ever heard before—crushing booms, hollow crumplings, groans of distressed metal, roars of explosive decompression. She knew, instinctively, that it was the sound of sudden death in space. Her white-knuckled fingers clutched the edge of her helm console, which stuttered between light and darkness.

  From belowdecks, the angry screech of phasers and the echoing ring of torpedo launches continued. Even before ch’Shonnas made his report, D’Amato saw the Tholian battle cruiser’s shields collapse, and a volley of photon torpedoes slam into it amidships. “Direct hit on the lead cruiser,” ch’Shonnas said. “Heavy damage.”

  “Again,” Gannon said, pointing at the crippled enemy ship. Phaser beams sliced through the Tholian vessel, whose image filled the main viewer from edge to edge. “Break off,” Gannon said. “Hard to port! Fire aft torpedoes, finish her!”

  D’Amato fought with the sluggish, failing helm controls, practically willing the ship to turn as the captain ordered. They had made it two-thirds of the way through the turn when the beleaguered impulse engines began to falter. Then a Tholian plasma torpedo nudged them the rest of the way through the turn and, miraculously, seemed to spur the impulse drive back to full power.

  On the edge of the main viewer, D’Amato saw the flash of the cruiser’s explosion batter three of its escorts, which now were in a triangular formation and closing fast on the Bombay. The captain pointed to the cruiser on the left. “Shal, all fire on that one!” She pointed at the one on the right. “Nave, tractor beam on that one!” D’Amato was about to protest that all power had been diverted to weapons when she recalled that the phaser mains and the tractor-beam emitter shared the same energizer coils.

  The auxiliary phaser banks kept the left-side ship engaged while Nave snared the right-hand one with a tractor beam. The young communications officer announced with pride, “Got ’em!”

  Gannon glanced at the tactical display between D’Amato and ch’Shonnas and made a snap decision. “D’Amato, bearing three-five-eight mark eighteen, flank speed!”

  More blasts rocked the ship as D’Amato forced the impulse engines to their limits. The Tholian ships seemed slow to respond, likely because they had expected the Bombay to make an evasive turn rather than an attack charge. Sensors indicated that the two enemy ships on the Bombay’s aft quarter were equally off-balance but swiftly altering course to compensate. The strain on the Bombay’s engines was immense; they had been pushed far beyond their rated tolerance even before they started dragging the mass of the snagged Tholian cruiser.

  Ahead of them, the cruiser that wasn’t bearing the brunt of the Bombay’s attack broke away in another attempt at a flanking run. Gannon pointed at it like she was thrusting a sword into an enemy. “Helm, hard to port, ninety-five degrees starboard yaw! Weapons, stay on the second one!”

  As she executed the command, D’Amato realized what the captain was doing, and she made small adjustments in the maneuver to maximize its effectiveness. A bone-jarring concussion sent a flash-crack of light and heat rushing into the bridge. Sparks showered down from the rent ceiling. The tactical display hiccuped on and off for a second. When it settled, D’Amato permitted herself a moment of dark satisfaction: They had pulled the Tholian cruiser in their tractor beam into a broadside collision with the one that had just hit their main computer core. Both enemy ships had exploded into a cloud of superheated debris.

  “Good work, D’Amato! Hard about!”

  D’Amato swung the ship through a 180-degree turn. At the end of it, the cruiser onto which ch’Shonnas was still directing all weapons fire lay halfway between the Bombay and the damaged Tholian ship’s two reinforcements, which were closing at maximum speed. The battered Tholian cruiser was fleeing the Bombay, and its sister ships were moving to defend its retreat.

  Gannon seemed hyperalert now. The gleam in her eyes had a feral intensity. “Helm, get in there. Don’t let them get away! Weapons, fire all phaser banks!”

  For a moment, ch’Shonnas looked like he was going to protest the order, then he triggered a massive phaser onslaught against the escaping vessel. Multiple overlapping beams bombarded the Tholian ship, and its shields flared, then dissipated. A single photon torpedo slammed into its main engine.

  Then the two cruisers behind it returned fire at Bombay.

  The charged-plasma pulses seemed to drift languidly through space, only to speed up at the last second.

  D’Amato shut her eyes. The shock of impact opened them again. Light and heat…sound and fury…the gruesome pantomime of bodies hurled like leaves in a storm. She plunged out of her chair, nauseated by a sudden sensation of weightlessness that just as quickly surrendered to the trauma of brutal deceleration when she hit a bulkhead. Facedown on the deck, she felt a throbbing ache inside her mouth bloom into agonizing pain. She reached up to her lips. Her guttural howls hurled blood and saliva over her fingers. Gingerly reaching past her slashed lower lip, she confirmed that several of her front teeth had been smashed out. Heaving sobs robbed her of breath; tears ran from her eyes.

  On the deck next to Berry, ch’Shonnas lay dead, half his beautiful blue face peppered with charred black shrapnel. Smoke rose from a gaping hole in the navigator’s console.

  Nave was slumped against a post under the far railing, her face haunted by the same lifeless stare that D’Amato had seen minutes ago on Milonakis.

  Captain Gannon crawled across the deck toward the helm console. She pulled herself up like she was scaling a rock face. Inch by inch, fighting for purchase, looking for another handhold. Her strength clearly was waning, but her defiant glare was undimmed. Peeking over the edge of the console, she stretched out her arm, flipped a sequence of switches, activated the tractor beam, this time on the damaged Tholian cruiser. Through the wavy lines and hashing static on the main viewer, D’Amato saw the beam lash out and grab the enemy vessel. Now the captain was reeling it in—and the two undamaged
Tholian ships were once again moving to attack position. Gannon reached up and entered another sequence of commands into the console. She turned her head and glared at D’Amato. “Get over here, Lieutenant. I need you.”

  D’Amato tried to stand, but her legs refused to obey. She followed the captain’s example and half-crawled, half-dragged herself across the dusty, debris-covered deck to join her commanding officer at the helm console.

  “Computer,” the captain said. “Recognize Gannon, Captain Hallie Marie.”

  “Recognized,” came the staticky, distorted reply.

  Reacting to Gannon’s nod, D’Amato said, “Computer, recognize D’Amato, Junior Lieutenant Oriana.”

  “Recognized.”

  “Initiate emergency destruct sequence,” Gannon said. “Destruct sequence one, code one, one-D.”

  “Verified.”

  “Destruct sequence two,” D’Amato said, her voice growing hoarse. “Code one, one-D, two-A.”

  “Verified.”

  “Code zero, zero, zero, destruct zero. Thirty seconds.”

  “Countdown initiated. Thirty…twenty-nine…”

  On the main viewer, the damaged Tholian cruiser struggled to break free of the Bombay’s tractor beam.

  Gannon’s body began to go limp, and her voice softened to a pained whisper. “Don’t let them get away,” she said…then slid down the front of the console and collapsed next to ch’Shonnas, her blank eyes gazing upward.

  Alone on the bridge, D’Amato clung to her post, her blood-stickied fingers routing every last drop of power to the wavering tractor beam. The damaged Tholian ship was practically touching the Bombay. Only now did D’Amato realize that they hadn’t reeled it in; because the Bombay’s impulse engines were gone, they had pulled themselves to the enemy vessel, whose two reinforcements now were moving in to retaliate. Just when D’Amato expected the tractor beam to lose hold of the Tholian ship, its power suddenly increased. Someone in engineering had worked one final miracle.