by Dayton Ward
Again, Pitrotha laughed, starting to pace once more. “Those negotiations have been ongoing since I was a child. I suspect that the current iteration will yield results no better than previous attempts. However, like many who have served our people for the vast portion of our lives, we would welcome the announcement that our services were no longer required. I have children of my own, Commander, one of whom I have not seen since her birth. If your captain, or anyone else, can say or do something which might bring an end to our war, I and countless others welcome it.” When his circuit of the room brought him once more face-to-face with Worf, he stopped, and the Klingon saw that his eyes seemed haunted by futility.
“Until that day comes,” the Raqilan continued, “I have my duty, which includes protecting my people from spies and saboteurs, and those who would assist spies and saboteurs.”
For the first time, Worf raised his voice. “We have told you we were not spying, and neither were we intending sabotage. If your technicians are of any worth, they already will have discovered that the weapons aboard our shuttle were more than sufficient to inflict significant damage had we wished to do so.” He leaned closer, though Pitrotha did not retreat. “And the weapons on our ship are far more powerful.”
Whatever response Pitrotha might have offered was interrupted by the door behind him opening to admit another Raqilan soldier. Unlike the detail already standing post at the doorway, the new arrival did not carry a rifle but instead a sidearm in a holster along his left hip. In his hand was an oval-shaped metallic object that reminded Worf of a padd.
“Sasel Pitrotha,” said the soldier, “I apologize for disturbing you, but we have received a new message from Central Operations, and we were instructed to inform you immediately.”
Without replying, Pitrotha extended his hand and took the tablet from his subordinate, angling it so that Worf and Elfiki could not make out whatever was displayed on its surface. Worf watched the Raqilan’s expression change as he reviewed whatever he had been given, and after a moment he looked up from the device and his gazed fixed on the Klingon.
“This is not possible.” Turning to his subordinate, Pitrotha asked, “Is this verified?”
The soldier nodded. “Yes, Sasel. Central Operations reports that they examined the communications signals twice and verified our decoding procedures. They are already preparing to dispatch ships to that location.”
“But how can this be?” Returning the tablet to the soldier, Pitrotha looked once more to Worf. “Why did you not tell me about . . . about the other vessel?”
“We assumed you were already aware of it,” Worf replied, “just as you knew about our own ship.”
Elfiki added, “We detected it drifting in open space and changed course to investigate. When we discovered survivors aboard, we attempted to render assistance. It was only then that the Golvonek found us. As you can imagine, they were pretty surprised to see the ship, too.”
From his evident confusion, it was obvious to Worf that Pitrotha, as a mid- or lower-level officer in the Raqilan military and likely having no direct involvement with the Arrow’s construction, also had no knowledge of the real reason for its existence. For him, and perhaps most of the Raqilan living in the here and now, the massive vessel presented an anomaly.
“Prepare a proper holding cell for them,” Pitrotha said after a moment, and there was no mistaking the uncertainty in his voice. “I will inform Central Operations and request instructions. I have no doubt they will want to speak with our guests.” It was clear to Worf that the Raqilan had no idea what to make of the information he had been given, and now he was struggling to maintain his bearing in the presence of his prisoners. Pitrotha and the guards left and the door closed behind them, leaving Worf and Elfiki in the room, at which time Elfiki released an audible breath and shook her head.
“At least that wasn’t weird, right?” Looking to Worf, she said, “Did you catch what he said about them not being able to confirm what their sensors were showing them?”
Worf nodded. “I did. The messenger also mentioned using message decoding protocols, which means they likely intercepted communications sent by Fleet Legate Mynlara.”
“This situation is getting crazier by the minute, sir.”
“I suspect that our value as prisoners has just increased,” Worf replied. “Now that the Raqilan know about the Enterprise and the Arrow, there will be considerable effort to secure the weapon ship. If the Golvonek have learned its true purpose, then they likely will make every effort to prevent that from happening. We may quickly find ourselves in the middle of rapidly escalating hostilities.”
Elfiki had been walking around the room, her hand brushing against the smooth surface of the dull metal bulkheads. “Where does that leave us, sir?”
Studying their surroundings, Worf grunted in irritation. “We must remain patient. Perhaps an opportunity for escape will present itself.”
For now, they would wait.
Worf hated waiting.
22
“It feels like it’s getting awfully crowded out there.”
Picard nodded in agreement at Aneta Šmrhová’s observation. “Indeed.” He stood before the main viewscreen, watching the six Golvonek vessels as they moved into position around the Arrow. The image on the viewer had been shifted so that he now was able to see the entire length of the weapon ship, with the Golvonek cruisers maneuvering around it. The three smaller vessels commanded by Fleet Legate Mynlara, already in orbit around the Arrow, also were adjusting their positions to allow their larger counterparts to assume this new formation.
“I’ve scanned the new arrivals, sir,” said Šmrhová, standing at the tactical station behind Picard. “From what I can tell, they don’t have any sort of tractor beam systems, but I am reading what looks to be a series of grappling arms and magnetic couplers, deployed from the center of each vessel and overseen by a central control point.” She shrugged. “They’re sort of a cross between the old Ptolemy-class ships Starfleet used to use for towing space-based starbases or outpost stations and ancient tugboats used to guide larger sea vessels in and out of harbors and ports. That is, in the sense that it took several ships to maneuver something that big.”
Sitting at the flight controller station, Lieutenant Joanna Faur gestured toward the viewscreen. “I think that qualifies.”
“Right you are, Lieutenant.” Studying the new, larger ships as they continued to settle into position around the Arrow, Picard noted that they did not look at all like combat ships, or even exploration vessels. Stout and utilitarian in design, their hulls were swathed in manipulator arms, maneuvering thrusters, and modules whose functions which escaped him, as well as control and observation ports which likely allowed crew members direct line of sight to any number of operations taking place outside the ship. These were ships meant for hard, demanding work, concerned more with function over form, and it was this distinct lack of refinement that in turn gave the vessels a sense of elegance Picard found intriguing.
“Are you detecting any indications that they may be launching transports?”
Behind him, Šmrhová replied, “No, sir, and none of the vessels are showing any active weapons. So far, everything seems to be in accordance with what Fleet Legate Mynlara told us.”
“Maintain scans,” Picard said, “and get an update from Lieutenant Chen. I want to know when she and the rest of the away team will be finished and on their way back.”
The security chief nodded. “Aye, sir.”
With Jodis and his colleague, Bnira, on hand to offer insight into the Arrow’s onboard systems, Picard had made the decision to detach Chen and other Enterprise personnel from the situation and allow Mynlara’s people to take over. The two Raqilan were of course being coerced to assist their Golvonek captors, and while it was a situation that unsettled Picard, there was precious little he could do about it. Fleet Legate Mynlara had declare
d the Arrow’s revived crew as prisoners of war, at which time regulations and treaties between the two sides stipulated that such prisoners were obliged to obey all lawful orders put to them. While they could not—in theory—be compelled to participate in actions that might bring harm to their comrades, readying a captured vessel for safe transport to an enemy base seemed to fall within the parameters of compliance. On the other hand, the Raqilan also were obliged and expected to use any available means to attempt escape, which could include sabotage of the Arrow or its key systems. Therefore, Picard knew that Jodis and Bnira were at this moment operating under heavy guard. Meanwhile, the captain had ordered his ship and crew to detach themselves from the situation, and he remained hopeful that both Golvonek and Raqilan leaders would accept his offer of a joint meeting to discuss how the Federation might offer assistance to both sides and perhaps find a way to end the war.
Politics, he mused. Didn’t I come all this way to get away from that sort of thing?
Turning from the viewscreen, Picard clasped his hands behind his back and began a slow circuit of the Enterprise bridge, proceeding past the port-side workstations until he was standing beside Šmrhová. Resting his right hand along the top edge of her tactical console, he asked in a low voice, “Have you had any luck with the sensor buoys?”
“No, sir,” replied the lieutenant, frowning. “I’ve still got a lock on all four of them, and they’ve mapped about sixty percent of the moon’s surface, including the Arrow’s construction site as well as where Commander Worf and Lieutenant Elfiki found the crashed planet killer. I’ve also found two installations of decent size, which look to comprise modules and structures both on the surface and belowground, but the moon’s mineral composition is interfering with sensor scans for anything more than fifty meters or so below the surface. The readings show life-forms at both those locations, but things get more muddled the deeper we scan. If the away team’s even on that moon, they’re probably in one of the underground complexes.”
Tapping his fingers on the tactical console’s edge, Picard released a small sigh. “Damn.” He glanced once more to the viewscreen and the Arrow, which now was surrounded by the Golvonek towing vessels. “Is your response team ready to go if the buoys report anything useful?”
Šmrhová replied. “Yes, sir. We’ve got a shuttle prepped in the main shuttlebay.” She paused before adding, “With your permission, Captain, I’d like to lead the team when the time comes.”
“No,” Picard said. “With Commander Worf missing and Lieutenant Konya seeing to the away team over on the Arrow, I need you where you are.” Noting the hint of disappointment in her eyes, he added, “I appreciate you wanting to lead from the front, Lieutenant. In fact, I’m tempted to lead the team myself, but part of being a leader is knowing your proper place. For us, that place is here.” He offered a small smile. “Such are the burdens of command.”
Drawing a deep breath, Šmrhová nodded. “I understand, sir.” As Picard began to move away, she added, “I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just that I’ve never been comfortable sending other people into harm’s way while I coordinate or oversee them from a distance. I know it’s supposed to be one of those things you eventually get used to, but I guess I’m just not there yet.”
“That concern never goes away, Lieutenant,” Picard said, warming to the subject. Mentoring junior officers was one of the more rewarding aspects of command, and one he had always embraced. “At least, it shouldn’t. It’s a reminder that the people in your charge are not simply resources to be exploited or squandered. Let that concern guide you when you’re required to send them into danger.”
“Does it ever get easier?”
Picard shook his head. “Never, and nor should it. That, too, is a burden of command.”
A series of beeps sounded from her console, and Šmrhová reached for the station and tapped several controls. “Long-range sensors are detecting the approach of several vessels, sir, outbound from System 3955. Eight in total, and they’re not Golvonek, or at least they’re not consistent with the Golvonek ships we’ve seen so far.” She entered more commands and waited for the console to relay new information before adding, “They have to be Raqilan.”
Turning in her seat, Faur asked, “Well, that wasn’t entirely unexpected, was it?”
“I’m actually surprised it took them this long,” replied Picard, moving away from the tactical station and toward his chair. “Open a hailing frequency, Lieutenant. We may as well get the preliminaries out of the way.”
After several seconds, the security chief replied, “Captain, they’re not responding to our hails. I can verify that they’re receiving. They’re just not answering.” Without being asked, she adjusted the main viewscreen’s image so that it now displayed what essentially was an armada of vessels, traveling in tight, precise formation.
Not liking the possibilities the image and Šmrhová’s news conjured, Picard settled into his chair. “What else can you tell me about the ships?”
Šmrhová replied, “They’re all armed with particle weapons, but like the Golvonek I’m only seeing heavy armor plating, rather than deflector shield generators. Those ships are made for fighting up close, sir. Their armor looks like it could withstand anything less than full phasers, and even then it’d have to be a sustained strike.”
“Estimated time to arrival?” Picard asked. Leaning forward in his seat, he rubbed his chin as he studied the eight ships on the screen.
“At their current speed, just over sixteen minutes,” said the security chief.
“Open a channel,” Picard said, rising once more to his feet. “Attention, Raqilan vessels. This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We have detected your approach and wish to open a dialogue with your leader. Our presence here is peaceful, and we have already rendered assistance to the ship we found drifting beyond your star system. We intend no aggressive action toward you or the Golvonek. Please respond.” Waiting in silence for a moment, he turned to Šmrhová, who shook her head.
“No response, sir.”
Picard frowned. “Send that at regular intervals, Lieutenant. If nothing else, we may annoy them into replying.”
* * *
It’s time to go home.
As it had at least a dozen times in the last half hour, the thought teased T’Ryssa Chen. Standing near the ramp leading into shuttlecraft Jefferies’s passenger and cargo section, she watched as transporter beams coalesced around six Enterprise away team members standing on the field-deployable transporter pad. The shimmering white energy beams enveloped the officers before fading from existence, leaving her standing alone in the Arrow’s massive landing bay.
Almost alone.
“Hey, you want to make yourself useful?”
Smiling at the familiar and quite welcome voice, Chen turned to see Tamala Harstad and Beverly Crusher, each carrying two equipment cases and flanked by Lieutenants Rennan Konya and Kirsten Cruzen as they crossed the landing bay toward her. The security officers also carried equipment satchels, having earlier returned their phaser rifles to the shuttlecraft’s weapons locker in favor of the standard sidearms holstered on their hips.
“Is that all of it?” Chen asked, stepping away from the Jefferies and extending a hand so that she might relieve Harstad of one of her cases.
“We’re it,” she replied. “Everything and everyone else should be back on the Enterprise by now.”
Having overseen the return of the away team and its equipment back to the ship, Chen nodded in agreement. The remainder of the engineering team that had been assisting the Golvonek boarding party with readying the Arrow for towing had already returned to the Enterprise, leaving just the five of them standing here in the docking bay. “All that’s left is the transporter gear, and we can get out of here.” With Konya and Cruzen to help her, the portable transporter pad and its support equipment could be broken down and s
tored aboard the shuttle in less than twenty minutes.
After notifying the Enterprise that she and her four companions were all who remained from the away teams and that they would be departing the Arrow within a half hour, and as the pair of security officers moved into the shuttlecraft to stow their gear, Chen looked to Crusher. “How are Jodis and Bnira?”
The doctor scowled. “Medically speaking, they’re fine. There’s nothing more I can do for them.” She shook her head. “I can only imagine what they must be feeling, separated from loved ones and friends, and prisoners on top of that. We know from past experience that when someone goes through something like this, there’s an acclimation period. The people we’ve encountered who’ve endured it have all handled it in different ways, but there’s still an adjustment to their new life. Jodis and Bnira haven’t had a chance to begin that process, and now this.” Sighing, Crusher reached up to rub her forehead. “I just wish there was something more we could do.”
“Maybe after all this settles down,” said Chen, “and after the captain’s had a chance to talk to the leaders from both sides, we can offer to help.” Ascending the Jefferies’s ramp, she stacked the equipment case with the others. “It’s a sure bet neither the Raqilan nor the Golvonek have any experience with this sort of thing.” She knew enough about the effects of temporal displacement, as a consequence of either time travel or prolonged hibernation. In each of the cases she had studied—several of them having been encountered by various members of the Enterprise crew—the person who had undergone the ordeal had taken considerable time before finally coming to terms with living in another era. While most had settled into rewarding lives, a few had been far less accepting of their new reality.