Before the captain could question the conclusion, jagged bolts of energy leaped from the bow of one ship. The blistering white streaks looked more than anything like bolts of lightning. Sisko did not understand how that could possibly be the case, given that such planet-based phenomena followed low-resistance paths through the atmosphere; there should have been essentially no resistance in space, and so discharges of electrical energy should have traveled along straight lines.
The bolt terminated well short of Robinson. Where it ended, a lattice of brilliant, interconnecting filaments blazed into existence. The mesh-like formation burned brightly for several seconds, then vanished. The captain stood up and stepped to the center of the bridge, his gaze locked on the main viewer.
“Analysis,” Rogeiro said, rising from the first officer’s chair and moving to stand beside Sisko. “What kind of weapon is that?”
“Scans read it as plasma based,” Uteln said.
“Is it some sort of barrier?” Rogeiro asked. “Could they be seeding pockets of energy out in space like the one we hit?”
“Negative,” Uteln said. “The energy dissipated, leaving nothing behind . . . but . . . I’m also detecting some unusual subspace variances.”
A second vessel fired, sending another dazzling bolt jinking through the void. Two more ships followed suit, and then two more. Networks of radiant strands illuminated different volumes of space, though none of them came close to landing on Robinson.
“Sensors are showing more ships dropping out of warp ahead of us,” Uteln said.
“On-screen,” Rogeiro said.
The image on the main viewer jumped, from displaying the patchwork of weapons fire to another farrago of small vessels. “There are twenty-five ships in the new group,” Uteln said. “They’re approximately the same size as the others.” The arriving vessels moved similarly to the first, along nonstandard, nonconforming flight paths. As best Sisko could tell, no two ships shared either a hull color or a design.
As the captain watched, many of the vessels dispersed, some moving off to port, some to starboard, some upward, some down. The half-dozen ships in the center blocked Robinson’s course ahead. “Target the vessels in front of us,” Sisko said. “If they don’t get out of our way when we get close, open fire. We’ll punch our way through if we have to.” The captain moved forward to stand beside Sivadeki at the conn. “Use evasive maneuvers,” he told her. “Keep us away from their weapons.” Sisko did not know how effective the plasma bolts would be against Robinson, but he didn’t want to find out—particularly considering the subspace anomalies sensors had revealed.
On the viewscreen, one of the vessels fired, casting a luminous, angular bolt out into the night, culminating in an irregular web of glowing fibers that, like its predecessors, quickly faded. In succession, the other ships unleashed their weapons. One energy framework appeared and evaporated, only for another to develop nearby. They all eventually disappeared.
“Phasers locked on multiple targets,” Uteln said. “Firing range in ten seconds.”
“Evasion course plotted,” Sivadeki said. “Ready to implement as soon as we attack.”
“Five seconds,” Uteln said.
The vessels ahead of Robinson all fired simultaneously. Ragged, gleaming tendrils tore through the darkness, each ending in an uneven grid of light beams. For a moment, a growing patchwork appeared, like a great chain-link barrier of energy, but then it too vanished.
“Firing phasers,” Uteln said. Robinson’s weapons seared through space, six red-tinged yellow rays of powerful coherent light shooting toward the alien ships blocking the Starfleet vessel’s course. Sisko hoped that the phasers would significantly reduce the effectiveness of their unknown adversaries’ shields, or even eliminate them entirely; he wanted to end the conflict as quickly, and with as few casualties, as possible.
On the viewscreen, the beams raced on-target toward the six alien vessels—and then vanished. Sisko blinked, unsure of what he had just seen. Each of the phaser strikes had closed on their objectives, suddenly dimmed at a particular point, and then stopped, as though they had struck an invisible wall. As the alien ships fired again, Sisko said, “What just happened?”
“Scanning,” Uteln said.
Another piecemeal wall of crisscrossing energy strings flashed up across Robinson’s bow. At the conn, Sivadeki rapidly worked her controls. The view of the firing alien vessels slipped off to port as she altered course.
“Do those ships have superior shields?” Rogeiro asked. “With extended range?”
Sisko glanced back toward the tactical station and saw Uteln poring over the data on his console. “Negative,” the lieutenant commander said. “Sensors read shields similar to ours, though less powerful, but . . . the phasers dispersed at the point where we detected abnormal subspace variances.”
On the viewer, another group of mismatched ships appeared in front of Robinson. Sisko watched as they fired, generating additional matrices of energy. The strange formations flared and then faded.
“Fire phasers and quantum torpedoes, full spread,” he ordered. Uteln worked his control panel. The reddish-yellow beams of the phasers flew once more from Robinson, joined by the blue-white bolts of the quantum torpedoes. Sisko waited for the weapons to land, hoping that they would provide an escape route for his ship.
But the alien vessels sent up another assemblage of misshapen energy grids. The phasers passed through them, dimmed, and then died. The quantum torpedoes struck them and exploded, well short of their marks.
“Evasive,” Sisko said, even as Sivadeki operated the conn to take Robinson in another direction. The viewscreen revealed only more alien vessels, their unusual weapons continuing to create the strange energy patterns. Sivadeki altered course again—up, down, to port, to starboard—but she could not find a way out for Robinson.
“We’re surrounded,” Uteln said.
“But why?” Rogeiro said.
Sisko shook his head. Possibilities occurred to him: that Robinson had crossed into the territory of a violently xenophobic race, or that the pocket of energy the ship had inadvertently struck had been useful or meaningful in some way to the aliens, perhaps sacred. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter at that moment, unless it helped Sisko determine how to extract his crew from the danger they faced.
Sivadeki struggled at the conn, but no matter the direction Robinson moved, alien vessels appeared on the viewscreen, still discharging their energy bursts. With each moment, the weapons fire drew closer, though the ships remained at a distance.
“Captain, if we keep moving, their energy blasts are going to hit the ship,” Sivadeki said.
“Full stop,” Sisko said. “Open hailing frequencies.” At the conn and ops, Sivadeki and Plante followed their orders.
“Engines at full stop.”
“Channels open.”
“This is Captain Sisko of the Robinson,” he said. “You have threatened our ship and surrounded us, but we don’t know why. We are explorers, seeking only to expand our knowledge of the universe and to meet and befriend other civilizations. Our aims are peaceful. We fired on your ships only after you fired on us.” Sisko waited for a response he knew would not come.
“But . . . they haven’t fired on us,” Rogeiro noted. “They’ve fired all around us, but no weapons have touched the ship.” He looked toward the main viewscreen, and Sisko followed his gaze. The energy webs drew nearer, even though the alien vessels had yet to specifically target Robinson. “Why?”
Plante glanced up from the ops station. “They’re not trying to destroy the ship,” she said. “They’re trying to capture us.”
For Sisko, the question remained: Why?
“Captain,” Uteln said, “the energy discharges are getting very close to the ship.”
“Shield status?” Sisko asked.
“Shields are up full,” Uteln said, “but until the main generators are back online, we can’t fortify them.”
Sisko exchanged a g
lance with Rogeiro, then said, “Shut down the weapons systems. Take additional power from there.”
“Sir?” Uteln asked.
“Do it,” Sisko snapped.
“Aye, sir.”
To Rogeiro, Sisko quietly said, “Our weapons are ineffectual; there’s no point in keeping them online.” The first officer nodded in agreement.
The captain looked back at the main viewer to see a writhing web of energy approaching Robinson. He expected it to dwindle into nothingness, as the others had, but it didn’t. The ship trembled.
“One of the energy nets has struck us,” Uteln said.
“Damage report,” Rogeiro said.
Uteln frantically worked his console. He looked to Sisko as though he didn’t believe what his readouts told him. A sheen of perspiration showed on his hairless scalp. “There’s no drain on the shields,” he said. “There’s virtually no effect at all . . . except . . . a subspace variance.”
“What kind of variance?” Rogeiro asked.
“It’s nothing I can identify, sir,” Uteln said. “The energy has dissipated . . . it doesn’t seem to have done anything but produce those subspace irregularities.”
“What kind of irregularities?” Sisko wanted to know.
“It’s just . . . the readings show discontinuities,” Uteln said. “It’s almost as though subspace has been torn apart.”
Suddenly, the normal bridge lighting came on. Sisko appreciated the banishment of the claustrophobic red glow in favor of the brighter white tones. “Relkdahz to bridge.”
“Sisko here. Go ahead, Commander.”
“Primary power is back online,” the chief engineer said. “The ship is in good shape except for the warp drive. We’re still examining the main engines, but we’ve got twenty burned-out power relays, plus damage to several transfer junctions and the theta-matrix compositor.”
“Can you make repairs?” Sisko asked.
“We can,” Relkdahz said, “but we’ll need to replicate new relays, as well as new parts for the junctions and the compositor. We’ll have to install and calibrate all of it. It will take at least twenty-four hours.”
“Get on it,” Sisko said. “I want a status report every four hours.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sisko out.” He stepped over to the ops station. “Anything at all?” he asked.
“Still no response, Captain,” Plante said.
“Continue transmitting my message,” Sisko said. “Keep trying to get through.” He regarded the main viewer. The alien vessels had stopped firing their weapons and remained motionless in space, neither approaching nor retreating from Robinson. “Full magnification on the nearest ship.”
“Full mag,” Plante said. The image on the viewer blinked, and one of the alien vessels filled the display. It comprised a series of four disk-shaped structures connected unevenly along their flat edges, with a conic aft section. Sisko had never seen anything like it. It looked neither functional nor artistic, though both measures doubtless depended on the nature of its builders.
Suddenly, the unusual ship turned, and from the lateral side of the second disk, another shape hurtled out into space. A sphere etched with an asymmetric pattern of curling lines, it had four protuberances arranged in a square on the near side. “Is that an auxiliary craft?” Sisko asked.
“It appears so,” Uteln said, consulting his panel. “Ten of them have been launched from the alien vessels. They’re all headed toward Robinson.”
“Boarding craft,” Rogeiro said.
“Standard view. Bring our weapons back online,” Sisko said. He waited for the tactical officer to make that happen. When Uteln confirmed that he had done so, the captain said, “Lock phasers and quantum torpedoes on the approaching vessels.” Despite the ineffectiveness to that point of the weapons, the captain would not allow his ship to be boarded without a fight. Before that, though, he would once again try diplomacy. “Hailing frequencies.”
“You’re on, sir,” said Plante.
“This is Captain Sisko,” he said. “We are tracking your boarding vessels. We do not wish to fight, but we will not allow you access to our ship. If we have trespassed in your territory, or committed some other transgression against your people, it was unintentional. We apologize. We seek peaceful coexistence, but we will gladly withdraw and never return if that is what you wish. But if you attempt to board this ship, we will defend ourselves.”
Sisko waited as the auxiliary craft grew to fill the main viewscreen on its approach to Robinson. “Standard view,” he said, and the image on the viewscreen pulled back to show the collection of alien vessels ahead. Boarding craft approached from two of those. As with their parent ships, neither of the boarding vessels resembled each other. Sisko didn’t expect a reply, and he received none.
Plante confirmed it: “No response, sir.”
“Fire all weapons.” Sisko heard the feedback tones that signaled the discharge of phaser banks and the launch of quantum torpedoes. But as he watched the main view-screen, he saw no bright beams of destructive power.
“Phasers fired,” Uteln said, “but they produced no discernible output.” The blue-white glow of quantum torpedoes did shoot out into space toward the boarding craft. The captain waited for them to strike their targets, but when they did, the torpedoes simply flew apart with no resultant explosions.
Sisko didn’t wait for an explanation. “Evasive maneuvers, full impulse,” he said. “Look for an opening to get past them. In the meantime, let’s not make it easy for them.”
“Full impulse,” Sivadeki said, and she worked the conn. Sisko heard her controls respond to her touch with the appropriate sounds. The pulse of the impulse drive rose on the bridge.
But the ship didn’t move.
“Captain, I’ve engaged the impulse engines,” Sivadeki said, confusion and anxiety in her tone. “They read active and operational, but we’re not moving.”
Sisko peered down at the conn and read the details spelled out across the panel. Everything appeared normal, but when he glanced up at the main viewscreen, he could see that Robinson remained motionless in space. “Bridge to engineering.”
“Engineering. This is Relkdahz.”
“Are the impulse engines functioning?” Sisko asked.
“Yes,” Relkdahz said, “the impulse drive is online and operating at peak efficiency.”
“The ship’s not moving,” Sisko said.
“I don’t know how that can be,” Relkdahz said. “Stand by.”
“Let me know. Sisko out.”
“Captain,” Uteln said. In just the single word, Sisko heard apprehension in the voice of the usually unflappable tactical officer. “Sensors are returning readings I’ve never seen before. All around the ship, space-time appears to have . . . broken down. We’re adrift in . . . nothingness.”
“Broken down?” Rogeiro repeated.
Uteln studied his console. “Everywhere the aliens fired their energy nets, the fabric of existence has been destroyed . . . down to subspace.”
“That was the reason for the variances you detected,” Sisko said.
“Apparently,” Uteln agreed.
“That’s why we’re not moving,” Sivadeki said. “There’s nothing for the impulse engines to drive against.”
“What about thrusters?” Rogeiro asked. “Can we at least move?”
“I can try,” Sivadeki said, and she married her actions to her words, working over her controls at the conn. “I’ve activated the thrusters, but we’re still stationary.”
“At their current velocity, the auxiliary vessels are three minutes out,” Uteln said.
“Route all available power from the primary and secondary generators to the shields,” Sisko said. “Intruder alert. All crew to arm themselves, all civilian personnel on lockdown.”
As Plante prepared the ship to be boarded, Sisko watched the viewer as the alien craft descended on Robinson. As he did so, all of the doors on the bridge parted in short order. Armed two-per
son security contingents entered and took protective positions.
“Tractor beam,” Sisko said, searching for some means of preventing his ship from being boarded. “Target the craft directly ahead of us. I want to hold it in place.” If they could use a tractor beam to secure one of the approaching vessels, perhaps they could route enough power to freeze all of them.
“Engaging tractor beam,” Uteln said. Not surprisingly, the blue-white beam that should have emanated from Robinson did not appear. “The tractor will not operate in the zone of dead space.”
“Of course not,” Rogeiro said, clearly resigned to the failure of another of the ship’s systems.
Sisko retreated to the command chair and sat down. As he did so, he noticed the flesh around his swollen wrist had grown discolored, sporting patches of mottled purple and yellow. His first officer resumed his position beside him.
“What are our options?” Rogeiro asked.
“If they can board us,” Sisko said, “we’ll have to fight them hand to hand.”
Rogeiro lowered his voice. “And if they’re able to commandeer this vessel?”
Sisko fixed his exec with a long, cold stare. He knew what Rogeiro asked of him: to what lengths would the captain go to prevent Robinson from falling into the hands of an adversary—even a new and unknown adversary? “I cannot allow that to happen.” The first officer nodded soberly. Sisko had confirmed that, if necessary, he would initiate the ship’s self-destruct protocols.
The bridge quieted as all eyes fixed on the main view-screen. As the ships neared Robinson, they began to pass out of sight on the bottom of the display. “Lock viewer on the lead vessel,” Sisko said. Plante complied. The captain and the rest of the bridge crew watched as the auxiliary craft rotated, bringing the four segments protruding from the sphere toward Robinson’s hull, making their function as landing pads obvious.
Seconds later, the vessel touched down on Robinson’s primary hull, landing in the middle of the ship’s Starfleet designation: NCC-71842. Sisko heard the dull thump that coincided with touchdown. The shields flashed blue below it.
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