Original Sin

by David R. George III

  “Deploy concentrated deflectors,” Uteln said. “Half power.” On the viewscreen, red beams sprang from the bows of the runabouts to join the reverse tractor beams. They slammed into the reinforced bulkhead.

  “Captain, the region of null space is seeping farther into the shuttlebay,” sh’Vrane said.

  “What?” Sisko asked. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” sh’Vrane said. “It appears that the normal continuum the ship inhabits is fragile where it borders null space. It may be that the thrusters and antigravs of the runabouts, or the focused power of the tractor beams and the deflectors, are having an impact on it, or it could be the vibrations of the Robinson.” Sisko hadn’t initially noticed anything, but all at once he could feel the deck trembling beneath his feet.

  “Suggestions?” Sisko asked, rising and moving to the middle of the bridge, but he already knew the answer. If null space expanded far enough into the shuttlebay to reach the runabouts, their thrusters and reverse tractor beams would fail, and possibly their antigravs and deflectors as well. The crew’s attempt to cross null space and escape back into the normal continuum would fall short, with no other practicable solutions even on the drawing board. Before sh’Vrane could respond, Sisko said, “Increase the runabouts’ deflectors to full power.”

  Uteln echoed the captain’s order. The red beams on the main viewer did not noticeably change, but both Rogeiro and Stannis acknowledged the tactical officer. The ship began to shake even more.

  “Vibrations are increasing throughout the ship,” sh’Vrane said. “The stresses on the hull are approaching maximum tolerance.”

  Sisko felt Robinson struggling around him, trying to fling itself off the island of normal space it occupied and across the gulf of null space that separated it from the rest of the familiar, intact universe. “Divert power to the structural integrity systems. Increase power to the tractor beams and deflectors,” he ordered. He knew he risked damaging the various sets of systems and emitters on the two runabouts, or destroying the interior bulkhead of the shuttlebay, but none of that would matter if they couldn’t overcome being stranded.

  “Increase reverse tractor beams and deflectors to one hundred ten percent,” Uteln said. The gray-white rays from both runabouts grew brighter still. Both vessels immediately jerked backward before steadying.

  “Acheron is dangerously close to the edge of null space inside the shuttlebay,” sh’Vrane said. “Stresses are at maximum tolerance on the reinforced hull, which is showing signs of buckling. The ship . . .” Sisko waited for sh’Vrane to finish her statement, sure that the science officer would signal the end of their efforts to get to the normal continuum. Instead, with a note of wonder in her voice, she said, “The ship is moving.”

  Sisko almost could not credit what he heard. He glanced over his shoulder at Robinson’s science officer. As the deck quaked beneath the captain’s feet, a rumble rose to accompany it. “How long can the bulkhead hold up?”

  “It could collapse at any time,” sh’Vrane said. “But the ship is accelerating.” On the viewscreen, Styx banked to starboard and moved laterally in the shuttlebay, then jinked back to its previous position. Sisko understood that his first officer had just avoided a patch of null space as Robinson moved forward.

  “Increase power to tractor beams and deflectors,” the captain said again, raising his voice to be heard over the growing roar. In truth, he wanted Rogeiro and Stannis to shut down their runabouts. The crew had cleared the area on the other side of the reinforced bulkhead, but it remained an open question how much damage the ship would sustain if the front of the shuttlebay collapsed. Sisko knew, though, that the crew might not devise a better means of freeing themselves. He also understood painfully well that each moment that passed with Robinson unable to pursue its missing children made the task of finding and rescuing them that much more difficult.

  After Uteln conveyed the orders to the runabout pilots—boosting the reverse tractor beams and deflectors another ten percent—Sisko watched on the main view-screen as the different beams intensified. This time, neither vessel fell back, but Acheron jogged to port, then quickly to starboard, and once more to port. Styx shifted rapidly as well, Rogeiro and Stannis clearly trying to avoid instances of null space as Robinson moved forward.

  The ship bucked hard. Sisko bent his knees and threw his arms out wide, barely keeping his balance. He retreated to the command chair, where he could take hold of its arms to steady himself, but he did not sit.

  “I’m reading a fracture in the reinforced bulkhead,” sh’Vrane said. “A complete failure is imminent.”

  Sisko continued to watch the tractor beams and deflectors pound into the shuttlebay bulkhead. While Robinson thundered and shuddered around him, the captain resisted his strong desire to order the two runabouts shut down. Both vessels veered again, multiple times. Acheron’s reverse tractor beam faltered, blinking off and then on again before failing completely. The red rays of the runabout’s deflector vanished as well, and the vessel dropped heavily onto the deck of the shuttlebay.

  The bridge lurched violently to port. The inertial dampers failed momentarily. Sisko grabbed for the arm of the command chair and missed, but he managed to catch the control console beside the first officer’s position. On the viewscreen, the reverse tractor beam and deflector of Styx quit, and the runabout fell back to the shuttlebay deck.

  No, Sisko thought, but then the massive tremors pervading the bridge ceased, the accompanying reverberations quieted.

  “We’re free,” sh’Vrane announced. “The Robinson is moving through null space.”

  “The ship is rolling and pitching,” Sivadeki said. She operated her console. “I’m unable to engage any of our drive or maneuvering systems.”

  As expected, Sisko thought, but then his mind turned to the immediate danger to the ship. “Lieutenant sh’Vrane, status of the shuttlebay bulkhead?”

  “There is a fracture, but it stopped growing once the runabouts ceased operation,” sh’Vrane said.

  Sisko moved back to the center of the bridge, directly behind and between the operations station and the conn. “Commander Plante,” he said, “dispatch repair teams to the main shuttlebay at once.”

  “On their way, Captain,” Plante said.

  “Very good,” Sisko said. He peered up at the main screen, where he saw the hatch of Styx open. As the captain watched, Rogeiro disembarked the vessel. “Let’s see where we’re headed,” Sisko told Plante, who toggled the display from a view of the shuttlebay to the panorama directly ahead of Robinson. Stars traced long arcs up and down across the screen as the ship rotated on its lateral and longitudinal axes. “How fast are we moving?” Sisko asked. “Will we be able to reach normal space?”

  Sivadeki, already working the conn, read off the ship’s velocity—a velocity not only far slower than warp travel, but even well below the slowest impulse speed. “We are decelerating, but at an infinitesimal rate,” she said. “Accounting for that, on our current trajectory, we will negotiate null space and reach the normal continuum in seven hours, forty-three minutes.”

  Seven hours, Sisko thought. While he had hoped for a swifter escape, he also knew that the situation could have been worse—that it could have taken days or weeks or even months, or that they might never have been able to secure their freedom. Under the circumstances, he counted seven-plus hours as a victory.

  Sisko strode back to the command chair and stood before it, addressing Uteln at the tactical station. “I want all available resources working to find where the alien ships went,” Sisko said. During the crew’s time ensnared in the region of null space, the bulk of their efforts had been directed at extracting Robinson from its ad hoc prison, but the captain had also assigned personnel to scan surrounding space and beyond for any trace of the vessels that had attacked them. With the ship free, Sisko wanted as many of the crew as possible working on the problem.

  But even if we find the aliens’ trail, the captain thought, it’ll be
seven-plus hours before we can begin to chase after them. As Robinson limped across the inert region and back toward normal space, Sisko felt the weight of time elapsing. He feared that, with each passing moment, the aliens carried the missing children—including his own daughter—farther and farther away.

  • • •

  The doors at the rear of the auditorium slid open quietly, and from her vantage leaning back against the front of the stage, Kasidy saw her husband enter. The scores of people scattered about the seats turned to follow her gaze. Like her, they had suffered—continued to suffer—the abduction of a child during the alien attack. On the recommendation of Counselor Althouse and with Ben’s official endorsement, Kasidy had set up group sessions to help those aboard—and in particular civilians—cope with the situation. She didn’t know whether or not it actually helped—although she couldn’t deny that talking and visiting with people similarly afflicted did provide her a measure of comfort. She hoped the same held true for the other parents.

  Whispers rose in the group at the captain’s arrival. Kasidy heard her husband’s name and rank mentioned by more than one person. If Ben had come simply to observe, she didn’t think he’d be able to do so. She could tell already that his presence would change the dynamic among those present. For the better part of ninety minutes, they had been sharing their feelings about what had happened. Kasidy revealed her own past experience with her daughter’s abduction as a toddler, which quickly became a focal point of the discussion, and for some, a touchstone. The story of Rebecca’s kidnapping on Bajor and her safe return provided hope for their own children’s homecoming.

  “Captain,” Kasidy said as he approached the stage down the left-hand aisle. Though everybody knew of their marriage, Kasidy endeavored to address him professionally whenever Ben was in uniform outside their cabin. They had never actually discussed the issue when she and Rebecca had first relocated to Robinson, but it had seemed to her the proper choice; although not in Starfleet, she did serve in her diplomatic and first-contact roles as a member of the crew.

  Ben nodded to her when he reached the front of the auditorium. “Counselor Althouse told me that you were meeting,” he said. “I wanted to address the group.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Kasidy said. She stepped away and took a seat in the front row, beside Ensign Jozell Dorson. An unjoined Trill, she served in sickbay as a nurse. Her ten-year-old daughter, Elent, had been among those taken from the ship. Kasidy would never have wished any child to be stolen from their home, but both she and Jozell had spoken of the one positive aspect of Rebecca and Elent both being abducted: over the past year and a half, the two girls had become best friends. Wherever they had been taken, they would be frightened, but at least they would have each other.

  Taking Kasidy’s place in front of the stage, Ben said, “Obviously, not all the parents of missing children are here, though it looks like most of the civilians are.” Only a few of those present served in uniform. Kasidy knew that many of the Starfleet officers who’d had a son or a daughter taken were currently on duty, while others were on their sleep shift—though she doubted that the latter group were getting much rest. “I wanted to update you on our efforts.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Harry Danvers, who sat in the front row. A human, he served the crew in the ship’s salon. Several others quietly added their appreciation for Ben’s visit.

  “As you know, five hours ago, we managed to force the Robinson into motion,” Ben said. “We’re still more than two hours from reaching normal space and being able to use the warp drive again. Currently, the crew is utilizing the ship’s sensors in an attempt to track down the aliens who attacked us.”

  Kasidy saw some people nodding in response to Ben, but they did so absently, as though they really didn’t hear what he said. Or maybe they heard it, Kasidy thought, but they don’t believe it—don’t believe that we’re going to be able to bring our children home. She understood such skepticism; she felt it too.

  “Who did this, Captain?” asked a male voice from several rows in back of Kasidy. She peeked around several people and saw Anatoly Seitzer. He taught secondary education aboard ship. Kasidy had spoken with the man on a couple of occasions and had found him erudite and perceptive, though his question impressed her as foolish—doubtless born out of frustration.

  “We don’t know,” Ben said gently. “We’re in unexplored territory, far from the Federation and the known space of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. We tried repeatedly to make contact with the aliens, but we received no reply.”

  “Did we learn anything about them?” Crewman Indray Karza asked. The Klaestron transporter operator sat beside Seitzer. “Do we have any idea why they did this?”

  “We know almost nothing about our attackers beyond what we observed of their ships and their behavior during the attack,” Ben said. “Their motives are a mystery, but it seems noteworthy that they left us alive and the ship intact.”

  Kasidy thought her husband’s interpretation of events optimistic, but not terribly compelling. Yes, the aliens hadn’t murdered anyone, but they had trapped the ship in the middle of a destroyed region of space and then abandoned them. It could be that the attackers refrained from killing everybody aboard not as an act of beneficence, but because they believed that death would necessarily follow.

  “Are you . . . are you confident that you’ll be able to rescue the children?” Jozell asked. She sounded timid, as though fearful of the answer she would receive.

  “I am confident,” Ben said. “We’re working nonstop toward the goal of finding the children and bringing them back to the Robinson.”

  “ ‘Finding the children’?” Seitzer said. “I thought you told us you were tracking the alien ships.”

  “We’re using sensors to search for them,” Ben said.

  “You mean the alien vessels are gone,” Seitzer said, his tone flat, not asking a question, but clearly stating his fears, “without leaving any trail?”

  Regardless of the truth, Kasidy hoped that Ben would not confirm the statement. The parents of the missing children had suffered a trauma when they’d regained consciousness after the attack to find their sons and daughters gone, and they continued to bear the stress of uncertainty. At the moment, they needed hope more than anything else, a reason to look forward. Later, there would be time enough for reality.

  “Yes, the alien ships are gone,” Ben said. Kasidy closed her eyes. She hadn’t needed to hear that; neither, she felt sure, had anybody else. Still, she willed her eyes open. For the sake of the others, she wanted to show the conviction that all would end well, to demonstrate that she possessed the strength to withstand the ordeal. “It’s also true that we have been unable to detect an ion trail or a warp signature,” Ben went on. “But within the last hour, our scans discovered another region of null space. It stands to reason that it was created by the same weapons the aliens used to trap the Robinson.”

  “So then . . . what?” Seitzer asked. “You have a possible bearing on which to search? What if the aliens didn’t travel in a straight line? Or what if they didn’t head in that direction, but came from there? Of what if the aliens weren’t even the ones to cause it?” As he spoke, Seitzer’s voice increased in volume—not to the point of yelling, but there could be no mistaking his agitation. Kasidy understood the man’s anger. She felt the same way, but she also recognized that her fury—and likely his—stemmed from multiple sources: fear for the life of her child, rage at the abductors, frustration for her inability either to prevent the kidnapping from taking place, or to take action to end the nightmare.

  “Mister Seitzer, we are certain that the second region of null space identified by the sensors was caused by the aliens who attacked us,” Ben said, his manner firm but not combative. He walked over to stand directly in front of Seitzer. “My crew are very good.” Ben moved back to stand before the center of the stage and looked out at all the worried faces turned toward him. He gazed from one side of the auditorium to
the other, from the front to the back, as though making eye contact with everybody—including Kasidy.

  Finally, Ben said, “When we departed Deep Space Nine three months ago, we crossed seventy thousand light-years and then traveled still farther, to places wholly unknown to us, to seek out new knowledge, new life, and new civilizations. We did so to better our understanding of the universe and our place in it. That is a noble purpose.” Kasidy didn’t quite understand why Ben had chosen to speak about their lofty goals. He had to know—had to feel—that nothing he said about their mission, no matter how well intentioned or true, could mitigate the horror of the situation.

  “That was our purpose, and I hope we soon return to it,” Ben continued. “But our mission has changed. Our primary goal—our only goal—is to find our children and bring them home. I will do whatever it takes, this crew will do what it takes, to make that happen. We will not stop until all of our children are back on the Robinson.”

  Kasidy had already known everything that Ben had said—she understood his resolve better than anyone except, perhaps, for his son—but clearly not all of the parents had. As she looked around the auditorium, she saw expressions of determination on many faces. As the captain of the ship, Ben had said the right things.

  Kasidy stood up and joined her husband. “Maybe that’s a good place for us to end today,” she told the assembled parents. “I’ll hold another gathering here tomorrow at the same time. If any of you need to talk between now and then, Counselor Althouse and her staff are available, or you can ask to speak with any of the other parents, including me.” She paused and glanced up at her husband before adding, “We’re all in this together.”

  Ben nodded in agreement. Kasidy stood with him at the front of the auditorium as the other parents rose and filed out quietly. Several of the people peered in her direction and offered a moment of connection—a voiceless, mouthed Thank you; a close-lipped smile; a nod. Kasidy returned each gesture, trying to convey strength to these parents whose fears she shared.