Star Trek Prometheus -Fire with Fire

by Christian Humberg

  So this is Karen’s grave. What a place to die. And what a way to die. Suddenly and without so much as a chance of survival. He knew that his emotions were overwhelming him, but despite being annoyed about it, he didn’t deny himself that moment. He wanted to grieve for Karen. On the other hand, this might not be the right moment, he mused, knowing that he was on the bridge surrounded by his officers. What’s more, Spock stood next to him.

  If Adams had shared his grief with the half-Vulcan, he might have pointed out logically and analytically that Karen had been lucky in a way. Death is always part of a Starfleet officer’s life. Space is a dangerous place, where not only do hostile species try to end your life, but technical problems, unusual cosmic phenomena, or dangerous conditions during away missions on planets might kill you—not to mention the unforgiving vacuum of space itself. There were thousands of different ways to lose your life, and most of them were far more unpleasant than being torn apart by a huge explosion. Karen probably hadn’t experienced any pain. In fact, she had died in a place that she had chosen as her home, surrounded by colleagues she valued. Except for a natural death at an advanced age surrounded by loving family members this had probably been the next best thing for her.

  Adams didn’t share his feelings with Spock or anyone else present, though. Instead, he fought back his grief. Later, in his quarters, he would drain a bottle of Andorian ale in memory of his niece. Right now, work was waiting for him.

  “Mr. ak Namur, please take us to the center of the detonation,” Adams said. “One quarter impulse.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The stars on the periphery of the screen began moving as the Prometheus gathered speed.

  Adams turned to his science officer. “Lieutenant Commander Mendon, carry out a broadband scan of the area. I want to know what happened here.”

  “Understood, Captain.” The blue-skinned Benzite stood at the back of the bridge at the science station. He turned toward his console, entering input. White steam rose from the respirator’s mouthpiece that was fastened on his uniform tunic. Benzites didn’t necessarily require respirators in order to breathe in oxygen-nitrogen atmospheres anymore, but Mendon belonged to a minority. Their genetic code couldn’t be altered without severe health risks, and therefore, they were still dependent on respirators.

  Adams gazed at Spock, whose face looked as if it had been carved from stone, which probably conveyed his dismay far better than any emotional outburst could have done.

  “According to the available data, the explosion must have been of significant proportions,” the ambassador said quietly. “One would assume such scale is the result of a reactor core breach.”

  “The residual radiation confirms this assessment,” Mendon said behind them. “There has been an uncontrolled matter-antimatter reaction.”

  “That can’t be all.” Adams stepped forward to the upper edge of the few stairs leading down to the control pit. “Something must have caused the breach. Something coming from the outside.”

  Mendon typed more commands, studying the results. “No energy residue pertaining to weapons fire. I’ll check the area for particle residue of known explosives.” After a while he continued. “No signs of anicium, tricobalt, ultricium or any similar compounds. Hang on! I’m picking up minute amounts of trilithium.”

  “Trilithium?” Adams looked at Spock quizzically. “Don’t the Romulans use some kind of trilithium isotope in their plasma torpedoes?”

  “That is correct, Captain. I would also point out that no plasma torpedo would be capable of causing such vast destruction of a starbase as swiftly as we see here.”

  “Trilithium is also used as a conventional explosive,” Roaas said from the tactical console. “However, you’d need several tons of that stuff in order to destroy a station of this size.”

  “Sir!” Sarita Carson turned away from the ops console, looking at Adams. “What if the trilithium had been combined with other components to increase its explosive power? I’m thinking protomatter and tekasite.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “A remarkable combination. I would enquire as to what led you to this possibility.”

  “I used to serve on Deep Space 9 during the Dominion War. When the conflict started to get out of hand, a changeling attempted to turn Bajor’s sun into a supernova by flying one of the station’s runabouts into it. He had a bomb consisting of trilithium, tekasite, and protomatter on board. We were able to stop him with the Defiant, but if we’d failed, the entire Bajoran system with everything in it would have been annihilated.”

  “Mind you, I’d rule out the Dominion as perpetrators,” said Adams. “They haven’t demonstrated any tendencies to set up a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant in recent years.”

  “Although those incidents hadn’t been made public back then,” Roaas said, “I’d wager that the intelligence services of all major powers of the quadrant are aware of this explosive mixture. It’s possible that this information has been leaked to any number of more dubious factions.”

  “The volatile and dangerous nature of protomatter has been known for more than a century,” said Spock. “It contains a power of creative potential; however, it is also capable of devastation.”

  Adams turned to regard Spock, as it sounded as if he spoke from experience. Then he recalled that the ambassador did, from his days as a Starfleet officer. “Project Genesis. Protomatter was used during the attempt to fill uninhabitable worlds with life, wasn’t it?”

  “You remember correctly, Captain,” Spock replied. “The danger lies in the fact that protomatter triggers an extreme transformation of matter with its cascade effect wherever it hits. That way, life can come into being, and a dead star can be reignited, as Professor Gideon Seyetik demonstrated in 2370 with the star Epsilon 119. However, a thorough analysis of the local conditions is required, as well as a precise usage of protomatter. Otherwise, the transformation that happens is uncontrolled and extremely destructive.”

  “That would explain the force of the explosion here,” Roaas said.

  “But there’s a problem, Captain,” Mendon said. The baleen-like extensions around the Benzite’s mouth twitched briefly, a sign of dissatisfaction. “Once protomatter has reacted it’s no longer traceable. It is completely transformed.”

  “That is not entirely correct,” Spock objected. “It is true that the protomatter itself will be completely transformed, but its influence can still be proven indirectly by the matter that has been created. If we could bring some pieces of debris aboard, we could analyze them in the laboratory.”

  Adams nodded. “Very good. Let’s get that underway. But first of all, we should substantiate Commander Carson’s theory by finding tekasite.”

  “I’m already on it, Captain.” Mendon turned back to his console.

  “What do we know about this compound?” the captain asked.

  Spock tilted his head slowly. “The substance itself is not highly explosive but it can be used as an excellent enhancer for other explosives. That could be the reason why the changeling chose to use it for his attack on Bajor’s sun. Tekasite is also very rare. Should we be able to find traces of it, we might have the means to track the perpetrators.”

  “Sir, there are definitely traces of tekasite in the debris field,” Mendon said excitedly.

  Adams, Roaas, and Spock exchanged knowing glances. “So there we have two of the three substances required to build an extremely dangerous bomb. I don’t think that’s coincidence.” He turned his attention to the fore. “Mr. ak Namur, take us into transporter range for some of the bigger pieces of debris. We’ll bring them aboard for examination.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “I recommend that you have personnel in EV suits bring the wreckage to the shuttlebay. The transporter might alter the subatomic structure, making it difficult to recognize the traces of protomatter transformation. Even the traction of a tractor beam might have a deleterious effect.”

  “A spacewalk?” Adams glanced at the Vulcan skeptically. Spa
cewalks were awkward, dangerous, and generally unnecessary when you had transporters and tractor beams. But Spock’s recommendation had pointed out the problems with the usual methods.

  The captain glanced at his science officer questioningly.

  “Sir, I agree with Ambassador Spock,” said Mendon. “If we want to be sure not to contaminate any of the pieces of wreckage with energy we need to bring them aboard manually.”

  “Very well.” Adams went to his command chair, opening a channel to the engine room. “Adams to Commander Kirk.”

  “Kirk here, Captain,” the chief engineer’s voice came from the loudspeaker.

  “Prepare the shuttlebay to receive wreckage from the debris field.”

  “Understood, Captain. I’m on my way.”

  He turned to Roaas. “Assemble a salvage team. They should start work immediately.”

  “Aye, sir.” The first officer rose and left the bridge.

  “Maybe we’ll even find out how the culprits went about it,” Lenissa zh’Thiin said, leaving her place at the environmental controls to the right of Adams in order to take Roaas’s place at tactical. “I really can’t believe that someone would be able to smuggle such dangerous substances aboard a space station and into a dilithium mine.”

  “The Bajoran bomb was constructed on Deep Space 9,” Carson said. “Mind you, the changeling looked like Doctor Bashir. He had security clearances that simple maintenance technicians or mine workers wouldn’t possess.”

  Jassat ak Namur turned around on his seat. “Captain, that is another piece of evidence supporting the notion that the Renao are not responsible. Tekasite is known in the Home Spheres, and there are two or three places within the Lembatta Cluster with natural deposits. We also might have a handful of scientists capable of synthesizing trilithium. But the handling of protomatter is well out of our technological league.”

  Adams nodded. “Thank you, Mr. ak Namur. Your assessment has been noted.”

  “Sir!” Mendon said suddenly in response to several beeps from his console. “The computer has discovered something amidst the wreckage that shouldn’t be there.”

  “On screen,” Adams ordered.

  The science officer tapped a command into his console, and a moment later the overview of the debris field changed. Zooming into a specific part of the area, a deformed piece of wreckage became visible. It was black, curved, and looked as if its surface had once been smooth.

  Adams squinted. “How big is that chunk of debris?”

  “Approximately one meter, Captain,” Mendon said.

  “Composition?”

  Mendon called the sensor readings up on the screen. Even these preliminary readings indicated clearly that this piece of wreckage could not have been a part of the space station.

  “Anyone got any idea what that might be?”

  “I do, sir,” zh’Thiin said quietly. The Andorian woman’s antennae that protruded from her white hair twitched forward like annoyed snakes. “I bet one month of holodeck time that fragment out there is a piece of hull from a Romulan Scorpion attack fighter.”

  A cold shiver ran down Adams’s back. If his security chief was right, this crisis had just taken a turn for the worse. “Ensign Winter, relay the order to the salvage team to bring that piece of wreckage aboard. I want it scrutinized.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  * * *

  I bet these are the remains of a Scorpion attack fighter, thought Lenissa zh’Thiin again as she stood in the shuttlebay on deck eight with Roaas, Kirk, and Spock half an hour later. The Prometheus shuttles had been shifted to the rear of the bay. An engineer in an EV suit had hauled the metal piece aboard, and now Kirk and Lenissa checked it with their tricorders. Roaas and Spock were watching them.

  “I’m picking up radiation residue from an impulse engine,” Kirk announced, staring at the displays on the device in her hand. “These are without doubt the remains of a ship. Judging by the construction materials, it’s of Romulan origin.”

  “I knew it,” Lenissa said in a strained voice. “And I’m picking up the weak tachyon radiation that would be typical of a cloaking device.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “This new evidence is alarming. A Scorpion attack fighter with a cloaking device would explain why the station did not notice their attacker’s approach. As it was also destroyed, we cannot rule out the possibility of a suicide mission.”

  “You mean, the pilot had a bomb aboard and flew his cloaked fighter with full impulse speed into the station?” Roaas asked.

  “Considering the information that is now available to us, that would be a plausible scenario,” the ambassador replied. “It would explain Starbase 91’s sudden end. The pilot had no need to deactivate the cloaking device in order to hit the station. The crew had no warning whatsoever. And a bomb consisting of trilithium, protomatter, and tekasite need not be particularly large to destroy an unprotected space station. The bomb that the changeling used during the Dominion War fitted into a runabout.”

  “But one thing doesn’t quite make sense,” Lenissa said. “The Romulans are pretty far away from here, and the Scorpion-class is a short-range attack fighter without warp drive. That means the culprit was not alone. It’s impossible that he could have covered the distance from the Romulan Star Empire to the Lembatta Cluster. There must have been a mothership somewhere.”

  Kirk frowned. “Starbase 91 was a listening post. They had a powerful deep-space sensor array at their disposal, and they should have been able to locate ship movements beyond the border to the Klingon Empire. They would never have missed a mothership, no matter how far out it had been parked.”

  “Unless it was also cloaked,” Lenissa said. “We know that the Romulans have state-of-the-art cloaking devices that can shift their Warbirds out-of-phase. Even a sensor array wouldn’t be able to detect such a ship.”

  “If all that is true, if the Romulans are truly behind this, that raises some unpleasant questions.” Roaas’s ears twitched, while his tail whipped from side to side. “Why are they attacking a space station and a mining moon when both are a long way away from their own borders? Are they acting on their own initiative or do they have orders from the Typhon Pact? And what do the Renao have to do with it? Is the video claiming responsibility merely a distraction, a red herring for us? I find it hard to believe that they would have sided with the Typhon Pact.”

  “It might also be interesting to know why the pilot—if he really is Romulan—committed suicide destroying the station,” Lenissa added. “The Romulans abandoned that tactic two centuries ago, during the war between Earth and Romulus. Let’s be honest: if the Romulans really made the effort to fly a cloaked Warbird past all our sensor grids and patrols across Federation territory, why didn’t they make good use of it? A volley of heavy plasma torpedoes would have wiped out Starbase 91 just as effectively.”

  “Under those circumstances the station would have been able to send a distress signal,” Spock said. “It would have then been widely known that elements of the Romulan Star Empire had attacked a Federation station. That would have led to diplomatic implications, a situation of which the current Praetor of Romulus would not want. Gell Kamemor has already publicly aligned herself with a de-escalation of the current situation for months.” The Vulcan studied the piece of wreckage pensively for a few moments. “Clearly, this matter requires further investigation.”

  Lenissa didn’t like the sound of any of this. President Bacco had done everything in her power during her past months to extend a peace offering toward the Typhon Pact. There had been talks giving cause for hope that the cold war, currently prevailing in space, might come to an end. The dawn of a new era in the peaceful exploration of the galaxy was meant to be Bacco’s legacy. Had all her efforts been in vain? Had her legacy already lost all value a few weeks after her death?

  Spock squared his shoulders, pressing his hands against each other in front of his stomach. “Of paramount import at present is to not jump to conclusions. We have claims
of responsibility from an allegedly radical Renao movement, we have traces of an extremely dangerous explosive, and we have wreckage from a Romulan attack fighter. This does combine to form a coherent picture, and wild speculation could dangerously place the blame on the wrong party. Such false blame would have fatal consequences.”

  Fatal is the right word, Lenissa thought grimly while images of hostile fleets flying toward each other, firing their weapons relentlessly, flashed through her mind.

  * * *

  “I’m picking up an approaching vessel,” Sarita Carson reported from the ops console.

  Adams, sitting in his command chair awaiting the results from the team in the shuttlebay, looked up. “What kind of vessel?”

  “A Klingon Vor’cha-class attack cruiser.”

  “On screen,” Adams ordered.

  The image changed, and the olive-green starship appeared on the main screen.

  “We are being hailed,” Ensign Winter reported from the comm station.

  Adams rose from his chair. “Open channel.”

  The image changed again, and the constricted bridge of a Klingon ship, illuminated in dim red light, came into view. A Klingon, wearing a gray-brown leather cassock over his standard-issue armor, stood in the center of it. He had shoulder-length, thick hair, and a thin long beard.

  “I’m Kromm, captain of the attack cruiser Bortas,” he announced in a tone of voice tantamount to a challenge. “We’re here to investigate an attack by Renao extremists on the Klingon Empire, and to hunt down those who are guilty of this crime.”

  “Captain Adams of the U.S.S. Prometheus,” Adams replied with a steady gaze. “We are also investigating an attack on the Federation that might have had its roots in the Lembatta Cluster. I suggest coordinating our efforts, Captain. We were told that Ambassador Rozhenko is with you.”