He’d never actually given it that much thought; it’d been only a little over a year since he’d switched to wearing a gold uniform shirt. Yet he heard himself say, “Well, sure. But someday doesn’t have to be today.”
“Still…you don’t find it a little bothersome that the captain trusts you to command the ship in orbit, but not in a crisis?”
“That’s not how I see things,” Sulu said with a dismissive shake of his head. Yet, now that Chekov had shared his point of view, he found it difficult to shift his perception back again.
As many times as Scotty had made the trip between main engineering and the bridge, it always struck him, watching the light bars slide across the turbolift display panel, how enormous the Enterprise was. He had served on nine other ships in his twenty-plus-year Starfleet career, some of them so compact that the engine room and conn were separated by no more than a pair of doors. On the Enterprise, though, with its separate and distinct drive and saucer sections, it was almost as if he were serving on two different ships: one of engines and mechanics, where the laws of physics held sway, and the other, where the captain was forced to deal with issues of people, politics, and other unexplainable phenomena. All things being equal, Scotty preferred his Enterprise.
The turbolift car decelerated as it approached the top of the saucer, and Scott took a deep bracing breath before the doors opened onto the other ship. The first thing he saw was the captain’s chair at the center of the circular bridge, empty and waiting for him. He glanced away and found Sulu standing by his helm station. “Mr. Scott.”
Scotty nodded as he took the two steps down into the command center. “Report, Mr. Sulu.”
“We’re under way to the Thraz system at warp five. ETA: two hours, seventeen minutes.”
“I’m starting to pick up additional transmissions from Thraz,” Uhura interjected from her station. The muscles in her jaw and her elegant neck were tight as she concentrated on and processed the information coming in through her earpiece. “They’re saying they’ve been attacked by an unidentified alien ship. It entered the system completely undetected, struck their residential area, and immediately left the system. Fortunately, given the time of day, they believe most residents should have been safely out of their homes.”
“Let’s hope they’re right,” Scott said. “Anything else?”
Uhura frowned as her fingers went from one knob to the next on her console. “Hard to say. The signals are very weak—the attack also overloaded their power distribution network, and they’re operating on emergency backup generators. Most of the messages are very confused and contradictory, as well.”
“Par for the course in the wake of a catastrophe,” Scotty noted with a sigh.
“‘Completely undetected,’” Sulu repeated ominously. “It couldn’t be Romulans, could it?”
“In this sector?” Scotty frowned. “I doubt it.” He certainly hoped it wasn’t the Romulans, though the attackers’ identity made little difference to the task at hand. “Bridge to sickbay,” he said as he tabbed the intercom on the captain’s chair.
“Sickbay. McCoy here.”
“Doctor, have you been briefed on our current mission?”
“Got the word from Sulu not five minutes ago. I’ve got the lab brewing up some basic Andorian meds, and my staff and I are boning up on Andorian physiology.”
“Good work,” Scott said, as much to McCoy as to Sulu, who acknowledged with a slight nod.
“Save your praise until there’s cause for it, Scotty. The way these people’s insides are put together…well, I’ll never needle Spock about his Vulcan anatomy again.”
Scotty chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let him know you said so, Doctor. Bridge out.”
“Klingons.”
Scotty’s head jerked toward the forward screen. “What?”
Sulu turned and looked up at him. “Rumor’s been the Klingons and Romulans are negotiating some kind of alliance. If the Romulans were to agree to share their cloaking devices…”
As his heart slowed back to a normal rate, Scotty said, “Even if we were to put stock in rumor…why would the Klingons target a science base this far into Federation space?” He turned to the bridge science station, where a young man in a blue uniform sat in Spock’s place, passively listening to the ongoing discussion. “Ensign?”
The ensign snapped ramrod straight in his seat. “Yes, sir?”
“This Thraz Outpost. What do we know about it?”
The young man gaped back at him as if perplexed by the question. “It’s…an Andorian science colony….”
Scotty put up a hand to stop him. “What’s your name, lad?”
“David Frank, sir.”
“Mr. Frank, the reason we have a manned science station on the bridge is so that, when the command staff have a question of a scientific nature, someone is ready with an answer, if not before the question is asked, then quickly afterward.” Scotty’s eyes locked hard on the junior officer’s. “Do I make myself understood?”
Frank nodded, then added a spoken, “Yes, sir.”
Scott nodded back. “I want to know what the scientists are doing at Thraz Outpost, and why that might attract the attention of hostile forces.” Turning then to the communications officer, he continued. “Uhura, keep listening and trying to raise the colony. We’ll meet in the briefing room in thirty minutes. Mr. Sulu,” he then said to the helmsman, and tilted his head toward the engineering station.
Sulu followed him up the steps, and the two of them huddled close in hushed conversation. “I wanted to say, a bit more directly, that you did a fine job directing matters in the first minutes of the crisis.”
Sulu smiled modestly. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
Scotty nodded, and then gestured subtly over his shoulder. “Tell me, Sulu…Ensign Frank there…”
“He started on bridge rotation just three weeks ago. He’s green, but he’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
Scott nodded again, though he was far from satisfied. “I’d like for you to pair up with him for this mission.”
Sulu’s face fell. “Sir?”
“I trust he’ll mature into a fine officer someday. But this is an emergency situation and…well, Mr. Spock does leave some mighty big shoes to fill. Given your science background, it makes the most sense that you’d be the one to help do that.”
Sulu considered that. “I suppose when you put it that way, I can’t argue.”
“Good lad,” Scotty said, favoring Sulu with a grateful pat on the shoulder.
Sulu had tried to tell himself that being asked to “fill Spock’s shoes” meant that Scott, as commander, saw him in the role of the ship’s first officer: a trusted advisor and respected sounding board. But huddled with the junior officer at Mr. Spock’s station, scrolling through back issues of Andorian scientific journals, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d in fact been knocked a few steps down the ship’s hierarchy.
Sulu had spent the first seven years of his Starfleet career in science division blue. However, he soon learned that the great discoveries didn’t get made in starship labs; those labs and their staffs were there to test and confirm discoveries made by members of the bridge crew. He resolved to do what he had to to make the transition—no easy matter, not only in terms of the testing, but also in terms of convincing his superiors to take a chance on an officer with a mid-career change of heart. There was no good reason for Captain Kirk to agree to give the head of his ship’s astrophysics department the helmsman’s position, but he had seen something in him and was willing to give him the chance to show what he could do.
And Montgomery Scott is no James Kirk.
Sulu silently reprimanded himself for that uncharitable thought. He was a Starfleet officer, and that sort of bitterness was beneath him. Yet, as he entered the briefing room, it was with the feeling that he had no real purpose to serve here.
Once everyone was seated, Scott started the meeting with a question to Uhura. “Have you got any more
news from Thraz?”
“Yes, sir. Most of the colony is still on backup power only, but their emergency services are beginning to get a handle on matters. So far, casualties are being reported as lighter than initially estimated.”
“Well, thank heavens for that,” McCoy said.
“Yes, however, reports now are that the attack somehow triggered a series of quakes across the planet’s main landmass. They’re concerned that whatever the weapon the aliens used, it may have actually created a new fault line.”
“It would take a hell of a weapon to do that,” Sulu said, eyes wide in disbelief. “Were they able to say anything more about the alien ship? Track it at all as it left the system?”
Uhura shook her head. “They never detected it on approach, and the attack disrupted all their sensor and tracking systems.”
Before Sulu could ask any further questions, Scott turned to Frank. “Have you found out anything about what these Andorian scientists are doing out here?”
“Aye, sir.” Frank reached forward and activated the three-sided monitor at the center of the table. The screens all lit up, displaying a five-planet star system and a bright, unlabeled line running just beyond the orbit of the outermost planet. “Thraz Outpost was established sixty-six years ago in order to study the Thraz Streamer.” With a touch of a button, the screen diagram became animated, with the planets orbiting their star and the line undulating like a flowing river. “The streamer, named for the Andorian captain who discovered it, is a flume of tachyons, faster-than-light particles ejected from the rotational axis of a nearby pulsar, and extending out beyond the edge of the galaxy. In theory, a starship would be able to ride the stream like sailing ships ride ocean currents.”
“Warp speed without warp engines,” Scott said, studying the display screen in fascination. “That would certainly be the kind of technology a lot of species would like to get their hands on.”
“Except the Andorians have had almost no practical success along those lines,” Frank continued. “The streamer is only about twenty meters at its widest, too narrow for anything much larger than a shuttlecraft. It also has a disruptive effect on the warp fields of any ships that come within close proximity, which makes entering the streamer without being torn apart by delta-v forces tricky at best.”
“And by tricky, I take it, you mean insanely dangerous,” McCoy interjected.
Scott frowned. “So you’re saying their research wasn’t such that it could have been reasonable motive for the attack.”
“I wouldn’t think so, no, sir,” Frank answered.
“Well…it’s not something we need to worry ourselves with right now—”
“Isn’t it?” Sulu hadn’t meant to blurt out that reaction aloud. Though he couldn’t say he regretted it.
Scott, showing no offense to this borderline insubordination, answered, “Our first concern is for the colony and their injured.”
Engineer’s thinking, Sulu thought to himself. Focus only on fixing what’s broken, without looking at the bigger picture. “Of course, sir. But whoever did this—”
“Once we deal with the immediate crisis, of course we’ll gather whatever evidence we can to point to a perpetrator. But what’s to be done beyond that will be decided by Captain Kirk and Starfleet Command.”
Sulu still wasn’t comfortable with Scott’s almost dismissive attitude toward the unknown enemy. But he was still his superior officer. “Aye, sir,” he said, then rose with the others as the meeting concluded. Everyone filed out of the briefing room, heading back to their regular duties, while Sulu fell in behind Ensign Frank and followed him back to the bridge.
The Enterprise’s route from Pentam brought them within two astronomical units of the tachyon streamer. Ship’s sensors resolved the dynamic particle flow on the main screen as a shimmering band, vibrating with energy like a taut harp string, flashing through all the colors of the spectrum. It was a sight that made Scotty, if for only a moment, forget all about being back in the engine room.
“Mr. Chekov,” Scotty said, “are you detecting any effect the phenomenon is having on our warp drive at this distance?”
“A negligible one, sir. Less than a point-zero-one variance in our subspace field.”
Scotty nodded. “Steady as she goes.” He resolved, when this was over and the captain was back aboard, to compare his engine logs to Thraz’s research. There’d likely be a journal article in that…
“Mr. Scott!” Scotty turned to the science station, where Lieutenant Sulu stood hunched over its hooded viewer. “I’m detecting an object traveling inside the streamer.” Sulu turned to meet Scotty’s eyes. “It looks like a ship!”
“A ship?” Scotty was about to say something about that being impossible, but from Sulu’s expression, the lieutenant was already aware of that fact. Instead, he said, “Put it onscreen. Full magnification.”
The multihued ribbon suddenly filled the middle third of the forward viewer, and the entire bridge was awash with its shifting colors. And sure enough, Scotty saw the large dark object that seemed to ride the tachyon current like a leaf in the wind, heading away from the Thraz system at superluminal speeds.
“That has to be the alien ship that attacked the colony,” Chekov declared, his voice rising with excitement. Scotty could find no reason to dispute his conclusion.
Not so with the next declaration, this one from Sulu. “We have to go after them.”
“Mr. Sulu, our orders are to provide assistance to the victims of the attack, not to go off and—”
“If we don’t go after them, right now, we’ll never find them again,” Sulu shot back. And in all likelihood, he was absolutely correct. “Mr. Scott,” Sulu continued, his already deep voice dropping further, “all reports so far indicate manageable casualty levels.”
Scotty turned to Uhura. She looked somewhat startled by the minor power struggle being played out before her, but maintained enough of her characteristic poise to answer the question immediately: “That’s still the case, yes. There are, however, continued reports of widespread tremors stretching the colony’s—”
“Sir,” Sulu interrupted, “if those tremors were triggered by an alien weapon, we’re going to have to learn as much about that technology as possible.”
That bit of logic may as well have come from Spock; Scotty certainly had no way to refute it. The only reason he had now to dismiss Sulu’s protests was to salvage his own pride. After a brief pause, he said, “Set intercept course with that ship.”
Sulu all but ran across the bridge to his helm station, his hands working the controls with confidence. The entire bridge seemed to hum in anticipation of the coming confrontation.
“Course laid in and ready, sir.”
Scotty, seated uncomfortably on the edge of the captain’s chair, nodded slowly. “Very well. Take us after them.”
The starscape on the main viewer rotated, the streamer sliding away off the right edge of the screen. As it did, Scotty felt a slight vibration of the deck plating through the soles of his boots. His neck hair already started to prickle before Chekov spoke up to report, “The warp field disruption effect is becoming more pronounced as we take on a course parallel to the streamer, sir. It will grow exponentially as we maneuver closer.”
This time, Frank was ready with his information and, without prompting, said, “The reports from Thraz have the specs they used to modify their defensive screens and warp fields. Our systems aren’t quite the same as their research ships—”
“Not so different, though,” Scotty said, jumping to his feet. “You have those specs up now, Mr. Frank?”
“Right here, sir,” Frank answered, as he too got out of his chair in deference to the senior officer.
Scott took the three steps up from the command well—and then, for the briefest of instances, hesitated.
“Transfer them down to main engineering,” he said, smoothly shifting his direction, now walking away from the science station, past Uhura’s post, toward the ora
nge double doors. “I’ll look them over, and work on modifying them down there. Mr. Sulu: You have the conn.”
The turbolift doors slid closed. Scotty sighed as the car started its descent.
Sulu felt all eyes on him, waiting expectantly for his first order. “Chekov, maintain parallel course with the alien at safe distance.”
“Mr. Sulu,” Uhura said behind him, “shall I inform the Thraz Outpost authorities of our change of objective?”
Was there a coolness to Uhura’s tone, or was he imagining it? “Let them know that we are in pursuit of their attackers,” Sulu said, “and to give us any updates if there’s any change in their situation.”
“Aye, sir.”
That time he felt the shiver run up his spine.
He stood up out of the captain’s chair and started to slowly pace the bridge, just as he’d watched Captain Kirk so often do in such situations. He circled the upper portion nonchalantly until he reached the communications station, where he paused, turned, and leaned in over Uhura’s right shoulder. “Any response yet?”
“Our message was acknowledged as received,” she answered without looking at him.
“No protests?”
“The response was just as I said, sir.”
“I didn’t mean the Andorians, Nyota,” he whispered.
Uhura jerked her head around, glaring at Sulu at first with anger, which shifted to something more closely resembling disappointment. “If you’re asking me if I have a problem with command-level decisions, then no; it’s not my place to question them.”
“Then what?”
Uhura hesitated, weighing her next words carefully. “Have you ever seen Mr. Spock arguing with the captain the way you were with Mr. Scott?”
Sulu’s expression twisted in confusion. “Spock is always telling the captain what’s the logical thing to do, challenging him when he thinks he’s wrong…”
“But he always does so respectfully. He never does it in a way meant to make the captain feel unqualified for command…”
“Hold on, now. I never said anything like that to Scott!”
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