Federation

by Judith Reeves-Stevens

  “Wesley, no!” La Forge warned.

  Too late. The instant Wesley yanked on the fibers, sparks erupted from the connector, traveling along the fibers to flare around the youth’s hands. He cried out as he was flung back to land heavily on the deck. The connector, now free, clattered on the deckplates.

  La Forge and Data rushed to Wesley’s unconscious form. Picard hit his communicator. “Number One—what’s our status?”

  Sparks continued to flutter over the surface of the connector, along the monofilaments, and onto the console itself. None of the controls could be touched now. The engines continued to increase their pitch.

  “We’ve just hit warp nine!” Riker answered tensely. “All bridge controls are locked.”

  Picard glared at the Preserver object. “Will—listen carefully. Our computer has been invaded by an override program. You must shut down all computer functions. We will have to reset the—”

  Picard’s communicator squealed. He tapped it again. “Picard to bridge?” But the connection had been severed. It made perfect sense. All communications on the ship were controlled by the computer.

  A few meters distant, Wesley moaned as La Forge and Data succeeded in helping him to his feet. Picard moved swiftly to an equipment locker and pulled out a phaser. As he jogged back to the console, he set the weapon to level nine to vaporize the interface console and keyed in his security override command to permit that level of power discharge on board. But as he raised the phaser to take aim, all lights in the shuttlebay went out at once.

  Picard held his finger over the phaser trigger button, loath to fire when he could not see Data, La Forge, and Wesley. It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the emergency storage lights that came on-line. They were independent of the computer system, but would only provide a few hours of low-level illumination.

  “Stand back!” Picard warned his crew. Then he fired at the portable computer console. It took only a few seconds for the console to dissolve beneath the phaser’s fury.

  But the scream of the Enterprise’s engines still rose.

  La Forge ran to the captain’s side, shouting to be heard above the din. “Sir, if something has taken over the computers and can control all the ship’s systems, we have to get out of the shuttlebay now!”

  Picard was about to ask his chief engineer why. But then he became aware of the characteristic sputter of a forcefield being shut off and he looked in horror at the hangar-bay opening. For an instant, time stopped for Picard as he realized what had happened.

  The atmospheric containment field had been shut down.

  The wind began to howl as the bay began to explosively decompress.

  Picard felt himself yanked forward, feet sliding across the deck, as the wind propelled him inexorably to the vacuum of space.

  And oblivion.

  SEVEN

  U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 APPROACHING TNC 65813

  Stardate 3855.5

  Earth Standard: ≈ November 2267

  The first phaser volley struck Kirk’s Enterprise ten minutes before she had reached her destination. Mr. Scott had managed to coax a few extra decimal places of warp propulsion out of the engines, but it was not quite enough to avoid interception. Still, Cochrane saw that Kirk was pleased that his ship would now only be vulnerable for ten minutes, and not forty-five. But as far as Cochrane could tell, a starship could be destroyed in seconds, so the difference between ten and forty-five minutes seemed inconsequential.

  Cochrane and the Companion were back on the bridge when the attack began. Spock had prepared a station for them, two chairs close together by unused environmental controls. They had managed to clean up and eat in the interim. They had toured the Enterprise’s vast engine room. Some of the basic components Cochrane felt he could understand, but most had been a mystery to him. Mr. Scott had been quite kind in attempting to explain key systems, but Cochrane had realized the pressure the engineer had been under and had left as soon as possible.

  He and the Companion had even found a few moments to themselves, and Cochrane had immediately apologized to her. They were to have had years together, full of peace, uneventful, and yet, after only six months, this had happened.

  But for the Companion, she regretted nothing. “When we became as we are,” she had told him, “we knew each hour with you was numbered, each moment spent was a moment less in the time we would have. But we have had those six months, and we will have years more to come before we are no more.”

  Cochrane had held her then, admiring her strength. For one who had come so late to understanding humanity and the brevity of human lives, she had courage enough for them both.

  But Cochrane had heard the hidden tension in Kirk’s words these past five hours. He had seen the intent expressions on the faces of Kirk’s crew. He had realized that it wasn’t just Kirk and McCoy who were the best in their roles on board this ship—each member of the crew he observed excelled in the same way. Whether that meant Starfleet had discovered staffing methods unknown in Cochrane’s time, or whether in the face of interplanetary exploration humans had actually begun to change in the past century and half, Cochrane couldn’t be sure. But despite the talent on board the Enterprise, despite her near-miraculous technical capabilities, Cochrane knew that the captain felt their situation was precarious.

  Yet if the Companion was not capable of detecting that tension in others, Cochrane did not feel it was his place to take her hope from her. Let her dream of a peaceful future with him. He owed her that much, not because of duty, but because of the love he felt for her.

  Cochrane wanted to protect her as she had protected him. But as the bridge trembled beneath the pursuing cruiser’s first phaser hit, all he could do was hold her hand. At least her smile told him it was enough. For now.

  “Damage report,” Kirk said. He sat in his chair as a king would occupy his throne. All power emanated from that one position.

  “They’re still too far away to inflict damage,” the Russian, Mr. Chekov, reported. “No damage to ship or shields.”

  “Time to the black hole?” Kirk asked.

  “Nine minutes,” Mr. Sulu replied.

  “Status of second cruiser?”

  “Thirty minutes away.”

  The second cruiser had intercepted the decoy shuttle, destroyed it, then doubled back to join the pursuit of the Enterprise. Thus far, there was no way to know which of the two cruisers carried Thorsen, or even if Thorsen had survived the attack on the third.

  The bridge shuddered again. “Minimal damage,” Chekov reported without being asked. “Shields stabilizing.”

  “Transfer all power to aft shields,” Kirk said. “Those hits are going to get worse.”

  “Photon torpedoes launched from pursuing wessels!”

  “All hands stand braced for impact,” Kirk broadcast throughout the ship. “Ready on phasers, Chekov.”

  But Chekov did nothing. He spoke with a question in his voice. “Torpedoes passing us, Keptin.”

  “Damn,” Kirk said. “Full power forward shields!”

  Instantly the viewscreen flared with orange energy as the Enterprise bucked. A moment later, sirens sounded as she shook again.

  Chekov called out above the cacophony. “No damage from impact with photon torpedoes! But direct phaser hit on port nacelle and hangar-deck doors.”

  Spock also raised his voice to be heard through the inundation of noise. “Shields at sixty percent.”

  Cochrane realized what had happened. As soon as Kirk had reduced the strength of his forward shields, the pursuing cruiser had launched torpedoes on a trajectory that would carry them in front of the Enterprise to detonate where her shields were weakest. Then, when Kirk had recognized that strategy, when he had strengthened the forward shields, the cruiser had taken advantage of the starship’s exposed aft by firing again.

  As damage reports filtered in through the bridge speakers, Kirk said, “At least we know Thorsen isn’t on that ship.”

  Cochrane agree
d. The attack had been too well thought out. Whatever else Thorsen had become in the past century and a half, Cochrane doubted he was capable of that kind of sophisticated strategy.

  “Arm photon torpedoes,” Kirk ordered. “Let’s be ready when they try that again.”

  “Cruiser has launched again,” Chekov said.

  “As soon as they pass us, drop from warp and launch our torpedoes at the aft of the cruiser,” Kirk said.

  “Torpedoes passing … now!” Chekov said.

  The Enterprise shuddered as she dropped to subtight and the sounds of her torpedo launching tubes echoed. On the screen, Cochrane saw the pursuing cruiser pass in a blur, and even as he braced for impact, he tried to analyze the computer imaging that enabled him to see an object moving faster than light.

  But no impact came. Instead, a double set of silent explosions pulsed from the screen.

  Chekov raised his fist in victory. “Got them! Fore and aft, sir! They ran into their own torpedoes just as ours hit. Reading heavy damage.”

  Kirk remained calm. “Go to maximum warp, Mr. Sulu.”

  “Cruiser is coming about, sir.”

  “Maintain course. Chekov, ready on phasers.”

  Then impact finally came as the Enterprise swept past the damaged cruiser and both ships exchanged torrents of phaser fire. Cochrane saw an eruption of plasma on the cruiser’s starboard flank, and then it was gone from the viewscreen.

  Spock reported. “We took no significant damage from that barrage, but our shields are now at forty-three percent.”

  “Status of the damaged cruiser?” Kirk said.

  “Still in pursuit,” Sulu answered. “But only at warp five.”

  “Time to destination?”

  “Seven minutes, fifteen seconds.”

  Cochrane watched as Kirk stretched, and was amazed at the captain’s ability to remain so focused on the moment. Cochrane knew that with the differences in their speeds, the Enterprise would make it to the singularity before the cruiser could attack again. But even though that next attack was minutes away, Kirk behaved as if his work was finished. Cochrane decided that was the only way a starship captain could approach his work. If he really stopped to think about the power he controlled and the danger he faced on an ongoing basis, he’d be paralyzed.

  Kirk slipped out of his chair and headed for Spock’s science station. “Uhura, status on Starfleet’s response?”

  “The Excalibur and Lexington are en route, priority one. ETA: Excalibur, fourteen hours; Lexington, twenty-two hours.”

  “What do you think, Mr. Spock? Can we elude both of Thorsen’s cruisers for fourteen hours?”

  Spock remained seated at his station as the captain approached. “We need only elude them for thirteen hours, twenty-two minutes,” he said.

  Kirk smiled. “That makes me feel so much better.” Then he became serious again. “What are our chances, really?”

  Spock considered his answer for a few moments. “For the entire period, virtually nonexistent.”

  Kirk didn’t seem fazed by his science officer’s pronouncement, though, as if he had already come to the same conclusion. “How long can we last?”

  “Two, perhaps three hours,” Spock said. “If we manage to destroy or cripple one of the cruisers, we might be able to survive an additional four hours. However, sublight maneuvers close to the singularity’s event horizon will exert a sizable strain on our structural integrity field. Even if we avoid additional weapons damage, we will be forced to leave the vicinity of the singularity at that time.”

  Kirk rubbed his eyes, the first indication Cochrane had seen of the exhaustion he must feel. He also rubbed at a spot on his back, wincing as he did so.

  “I am open to suggestions, Mr. Spock.”

  But Cochrane spoke first. He needed to understand exactly what kind of danger he was exposing these people to. “What’s a structural integrity field?” was his first question.

  “An internal forcefield system that augments the mechanical strength of the Enterprise’s spaceframe,” Spock answered. “The stresses involved in moving from sublight to warp velocities, in changing course at high-impulse speeds, typically are in excess of what the ship’s physical components can withstand. While we are close to the singularity’s event horizon, we will need considerable power from both our artificial gravity generators and the structural integrity field in order to overcome the intense, gravitational tidal forces we will experience.”

  “Is this giving you any ideas, Mr. Cochrane?” Kirk asked.

  “Couldn’t we last longer if we didn’t move as close to the horizon? The gravitational stresses would be less.”

  “True,” Spock said. “But as gravitational stresses decrease, so does the distortion effect on the cruisers’ sensors.”

  Cochrane understood. “Like a submarine,” he said. “The closer to the event horizon we are, the harder we are to detect, but the more pressure we’re under.”

  “Very apt,” Spock agreed.

  “And if we hit bottom,” Kirk said, “we get smeared across the event horizon of a black hole with two hundred times the mass of the sun collapsed into …” Kirk looked at Spock. “What’s the estimated size of the singularity at the heart of TNC 65813?”

  “No more than a meter,” Spock said.

  Cochrane shook his head. “In my time, we had no way of knowing what was inside a singularity. It was the point at which our understanding of physics completely broke down.”

  “In our time as well, Mr. Cochrane,” Spock said. “There are many valid theories worked out in considerable detail, and we have discovered some technologies that allow singularities to be used and manipulated as power sources. But since there is no possible way to extract useful information from inside a singularity, no attempt to probe one, or to see inside one, has ever yielded results. Thus, no theory can be tested.”

  “Destination in four minutes,” Sulu announced. “TNC 65813 onscreen.”

  Cochrane looked at the screen and saw a luminous whirlpool of glowing gases and dust slowly expanding as the Enterprise neared it. At almost ninety degrees to the spiral arms of the whirlpool, solid shafts of light shone top and bottom, slowly precessing like sweeping searchlights. And in the center of the whirlpool, right where the gas and dust reached maximum velocity in their long fall into the singularity hidden at the black hole’s center, where their kinetic energy should make them glow the brightest, right at the edge of the event horizon, there was only a black disk.

  “Incredible,” Cochrane said, overcome by the sight.

  The black disk marked the point at which the gravitational attraction of the singularity within accelerated everything to the speed of light—including light itself. No matter, no electromagnetic impulse, could ever have enough energy to emerge from that point. The black hole would inevitably swallow everything which came near, pulling it endlessly down to the inconceivably dense singularity at its heart.

  “Have any ships ever been this close to this object?” Kirk asked.

  “Automated probes only,” Spock said.

  “Then let’s put all nonessential sensors on ’record,’ “ Kirk said. “We shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”

  Once again, Cochrane was impressed. Only minutes from a life-and-death struggle, Kirk was concerned with science, with exploration.

  “’O brave new world,’” Cochrane said, softly enough that only the Companion could hear him.

  But Spock looked at him and nodded, as if acknowledging the sentiment, and Cochrane decided the shape of Vulcans’ ears must be more than purely decorative.

  Kirk kept his eyes on the screen, but Cochrane doubted he was taking in the beauty of the sight. “Mr. Spock, is there anything we can do to add to the sensor confusion we’re trying to exploit? So we can stay farther above the point of no return as Mr. Cochrane suggested?”

  “An interesting proposal,” Spock said. He joined the captain in staring at the screen, and again Cochrane was certain that it was not to appr
eciate the power of nature.

  “By setting photon torpedoes to explode just above the event horizon, it might be possible to cause it to oscillate, setting up gravitational disturbances. Using the transporter to deposit small amounts of antimatter within the gas and dust could also create gravitationally distorted sensor echoes indistinguishable from the Enterprise, which should serve as effective camouflage.” Spock turned to his station. “I shall attempt to work out the details.”

  Kirk nodded at Cochrane. “Good work, Mr. Cochrane.”

  Cochrane appreciated the captain’s sentiment. He was making the outmoded scientist feel like part of the crew, a talent Kirk used on all the people under his command. Cochrane knew he had only made a wild suggestion. It was Kirk and Spock who had applied the suggestion to the situation at hand and found something useful in it. Still, it encouraged him to try again. Who knew what other wonders of technology this age held?

  “If you’re trying to create a real disturbance,” Cochrane said, “is there any way you can rig one of your torpedoes to detonate just under the event horizon?”

  Kirk angled his head in forbearance. “The force of the explosion could never emerge on this side of the horizon,” Kirk explained.

  “I know,” Cochrane said. He let go of the Companion’s hand and went to Spock’s science station. “But a matter-antimatter explosion a few meters underneath the horizon could make it ring like a bell, setting up gravity shock waves all around the black hole, like waves in a pond.”

  Kirk looked at Spock. His expression said he had no argument against the suggestion.

  Spock raised an eyebrow, indicating significant surprise, Cochrane knew. He began to adjust controls on his computer interface. “That is an admirable tactic. But there would be relativistic time-dilation effects to take into account, and they would delay the appearance of oscillations on this side of the horizon.”

  “What about detonating the torpedo at warp velocity?” Cochrane said. “The continuum-distortion field eliminates time dilation.”