The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  Once there they began to make their way to the rear of the ship. They had only gotten a few paces when a siren blared. Maldari stopped, swearing a guttural oath.

  "What's that?" Kornish said over the din.

  "Something has breached our shields." Maldari drew his laser weapon.

  "They're firing at us?" Dramin shouted.

  "Yes. We may have to defend the ship." Maldari shouted in front of him, where a dozen of his men were stationed. "They are trying to board us! Repel the invaders!" He turned around and started back, adding for Dramin's benefit, with less enthusiasm than cynicism, "The infidel invaders." He was scuttling up the ramp to the next level, when Starfleet soldiers appeared at the top. Maldari fired quickly. Several Starfleet officers fired at once, hitting Kornish, who stumbled and fell. Maldari scuttled back along the main corridor until he came to his men. He ordered a dozen of them to go to the foot of the ramp and make a stand, then led a few of the others to the rear of the ship, where the prisoners were locked in the largest hold. Behind him Dramin was terrified.

  "I can't believe they would engage us in battle like this. When all they had to do was pay for—" An explosion covered the rest of his words. Smoke filled the corridor.

  "Follow me," he shouted. He pushed through the smoke until he reached the first turn in the corridor. Then he felt along the wall until he came to a cabinet. Prying it open, he pushed the flat of his hand against a glass panel. A red ray flashed, reading the peculiar handprint. A rumble started in the wall.

  "Now what?" Dramin shouted as the smoke and explosions rose around them.

  "This way," Maldari said. He led the small group down a tangential corridor and into a room with consoles rising from the floors. "Everyone strap in to a seat. If you don't have one, hold on." He scuttled to the central panel and his hands flew over the controls. Suddenly the room they were in tilted and dropped away.

  "Oh, my God," Janice Rand said.

  As the Excelsior's bridge officers watched the Sundew on the main viewscreen, the rear half of the bottom level of the starship hinged away from the main body.

  "Their shuttle is built into the ship." Sencus thought quickly. Then he asked Rand to patch him through to Garvin.

  "Commander Garvin, this is Excelsior. Report at once."

  There was a crackle and Garvin's rough voice came on.

  "We have secured the bridge of the Sundew. All systems under our control. Teams B and C have searched levels one and three and are moving down—"

  "Level four is a shuttle," Sencus said. "I repeat, level four is a shuttle. It is leaving the Sundew." Even as they watched, small explosions along the hinged side blew puffs of smoke into the galaxy, and the shuttle completed its separation. Then it shot into space.

  "Track it," Sencus said to the officers beside him. "Garvin, subdue the crew and search every inch of that freighter." But even as he said it, he knew what the result would be. If they had not found the hostages yet, they were on the fourth level. The pirate Maldari had outwitted them again.

  Maldari didn't feel so clever. Around him the crew members that were knocked to the floor by the disengagement were climbing back on their feet.

  "Where are we?" Dramin asked.

  "In our shuttle," Maldari said.

  "And the prisoners?"

  "In the hold behind us. They're coming along for the ride."

  "And everyone else?"

  Maldari saw in his mind the fallen Kornish. "They are battling the disbelievers, I suppose," he said. His men took up positions in the small shuttle, and began to bring the little ship's systems under control.

  Great, Maldari thought. I'm locked in a shuttle with a religious fanatic, and the only thing I have to show for a year in space is eleven Federation officers.

  "What do you propose to do now?" Dramin demanded.

  "I wish I knew," Maldari said to Dramin, figuring he had nothing to lose with a little honesty.

  "But where are we going?" Dramin insisted.

  Maldari looked over at the Promethean crewman who had settled into the seat next to him. The Promethean brought his controls alive, and lights danced across the glass table he sat behind. Then he looked over at Maldari. Maldari sighed.

  "No Where," he said.

  Aboard the Excelsior, Sencus paced the bridge. The turbolift opened and Commander Garvin stepped out, his uniform muddied with Beta Promethean blood. Sencus spoke to him quietly.

  "Report?"

  Garvin didn't answer at once.

  "It is not logical to blame yourself, Commander," Sencus said. "We did not know about the shuttle. What happened after that?"

  "They fought us anyway. I don't think most of them knew that the others had escaped. The starship is under our control. Most of the pirates are dead. A few are injured."

  "Medical," Sencus said out loud. "Board the ship. See what you can do." He turned to Garvin. "Our personnel?"

  "No casualties."

  "Good."

  "But we didn't find a single hostage."

  "Undoubtedly, they were all held on the fourth level. Re-arm your team."

  Garvin turned heavily and went back toward the turbolift.

  "I'm losing the shuttle," Lieutenant Henrey called.

  "Follow it with all due speed," Sencus said.

  The Excelsior shot through the galaxy. The ancient little shuttle was no match for the speed of the great Starship, but Sencus couldn't fire on it for fear of endangering the hostages.

  "Course heading?" Sencus requested.

  "Somewhere in the Beta system, I think," Henrey said.

  "Archnos? They're returning home …" Sencus mused.

  "No, they're not heading for BP 1. They're—" Suddenly a noise boomed outside, the bridge lights flashed off and on again, and the ship rocked.

  "Asteroid," Henrey said. "A fairly large one."

  "Evasive action," Sencus said.

  "I'm trying, sir, but we seem to have entered a fairly large field of asteroids. And they're emitting some kind of radioactivity that's interfering with our guidance systems."

  "Viewscreen."

  On the main viewscreen, hundreds of barren rocks ranging from tiny to nearly the size of the Excelsior herself were raining against the ship's shields.

  "Maldari's shuttle came this way?" Sencus asked.

  "Yes, sir. She's still ahead of us. She seems to know the way."

  "Then follow her."

  "She's slipping through spots too small for us."

  "Are we tracking her?" Sencus said to Rand.

  "The sensor we fired is attached to her hull."

  "Then she will not lose us. In the meantime—"

  Another boom and the ship rocked unsteadily.

  "—more power to the shields," Sencus said.

  On the screen, the density of the barrage increased.

  "The radioactive anomaly is interfering with our navigational instruments," Henrey called over the increasing noise. "I'm having trouble keeping her level."

  "Open all viewscreens. Maximum visibility. We will fly on the stick."

  "Sir?"

  "An ancient expression," Sencus said. "Try to pilot her through. This rock storm cannot last forever." He was determined not to lose the shuttle.

  "The shields are draining power from thruster capacity!" an engineer said.

  "We don't need much speed," another voice shouted.

  "We won't have any at all if this keeps up," came an answer from the engine room.

  The ship was rocked and buffeted by the huge boulders slamming against the shields.

  "Navigation, map this asteroid belt."

  Sencus knew he'd have to make a decision soon. The Excelsior couldn't fly much longer without strengthening its shields with further power, and that would cripple their capacity to leave the area.

  "Sir," an officer shouted over the din. "Heavy concentrations of asteroids surround us. The field ranges from one hundred to two hundred kilometers in almost all directions. Above us it thins, and disappears
completely within thirty-five kilometers."

  The Excelsior slowed to a crawl.

  "It's no use, sir. I can't take the Excelsior much farther without pushing through these rocks. Our shields need additional power."

  "Reduce speed to cruising."

  "The asteroids are emitting some kind of radiation that is interfering with our sensors, and my controls are malfunctioning."

  "Go to backup systems."

  Henrey's hands flew over his console, but even as Sencus watched, he knew it was useless.

  "They're not much better, sir. These asteroids are hot enough to cause interference with guidance sensors, and even interior electrical systems." The ship's lights blinked and went out, and the red backup lights gave a ghostly illumination to the deck.

  The ship rocked and bucked erratically, and the constant booming of the asteroids against the shields echoed on the bridge.

  "Stop following the shuttle, Lieutenant. Pull her up. Engine room, allocate all remaining power to thrusters. We will push the ship out through the top of this obstacle course."

  Sencus knew that the great Excelsior was rising up, asteroids slamming off her shields. Little by little she steadied herself, and on the viewscreens Sencus saw the number of asteroids diminish, until the ship was steady and once more the black space around them was an infinity of emptiness. In the sudden quiet, Sencus turned to Rand.

  "Where did she go?"

  "Deeper into the asteroids, sir. The radioactivity is interfering with our ability to read the sensors. I don't understand how she could have navigated right through that belt."

  Sencus sat down at his science station.

  "They had a much smaller ship," he explained. "And an older one. If their guidance systems are relatively primitive, the radioactivity would not have interfered as much. Their willingness to enter the belt indicates a familiarity with the area."

  "I don't think I've ever experienced so much radiation. If those planets were all dead, where was it coming from?" Henrey asked.

  Sencus had already been wondering the same thing. His hands played over his science console.

  "Perhaps they were not always dead," he postulated.

  "Then …" Henrey thought of something he had learned years before at the Academy about radioactive isotopes and their origin.

  "Yes. A civilization that misused nuclear power may have suffered an atomic accident of some sort," Sencus finished the young helmsman's thoughts for him. "On an enormous planet. It was not uncommon centuries ago. With a radioactive half-life of literally thousands of years, those rocks will remain barren and hot forever."

  "But then Maldari couldn't have a base there."

  "No, but we can postulate that he uses it when he wants to go undetected. Yet he will have to come out the other side soon. We will orbit the belt and attempt to pick up his trace."

  "And if we can't?" Lieutenant Rand asked.

  "Then we will continue to search the quadrant for eleven Starfleet officers," Sencus said quietly. "Have we heard from Starfleet Command yet?"

  "Starbase 499 has acknowledged our message sent and passed it on. Nothing from San Francisco as yet."

  Day Two

  Somewhere in the Beta Prometheus star system

  FOG WRAPPED THE GRAVEYARD of ancient starships when Maldari set down the shuttle in its midst. Pushed by a light wind, it drifted around the detritus. The wind also made the rotting hulks creak, and a light symphony of straining metal played on the desert junkyard. Maldari instructed the remnants of his crew to guard the prisoners, and then descended the outside ramp of his shuttle. Dramin was at his side before he even put his boots on the cracked dry ground.

  "Where are we?" Dramin asked.

  "In the desert," Maldari answered.

  "What's all this?"

  "Starships. Ancient, broken beyond repair. Parts here are free, you just have to take them."

  "You need to repair the shuttle?"

  "No."

  "Then why did we put down here?"

  "Would you rather land on an official freight dock, and when the authorities ask for our manifest, tell them we have eleven Starfleet officers kidnapped from a Federation Starship?"

  Dramin paused. Maldari scuttled off the ramp and set out across the junkyard. Rusting walls of starships dumped at every angle created a near-maze. As Maldari threaded his way through, Dramin followed.

  "Where are we going, then?" Dramin insisted.

  "Dramin," Maldari said, stopping in the shadows and looking at him for the first time. "There are a number of things which freight brokers in Archnos do not take under consignment. I haven't read the regulations lately, but I'm certain that a human cargo is probably one of them." Dramin, Maldari thought, is probably something of an innocent where trading is concerned. "Let me spell this out, and then when we go inside, you keep your mouth shut."

  Dramin was startled by Maldari's sudden lack of deference. Maldari turned and walked on. He spoke to Dramin over his shoulder.

  "We're going to find out what the market might be for these humans. From brokers who do not operate under the oppressive eyes of the Archnos authorities."

  "And why would such brokers be here?" Dramin asked, staring about him at the outsized junkyard.

  "Because, Dramin," Maldari said as he climbed over a twisted piece of metal and scuttled out into the open, "this is the No Where cantina." Maldari nodded ahead of them, and Dramin saw a large starship, upside down, its nose buried in the ground apparently where it crashed. Modifications had turned it into a ramshackle building. Violet lights glowed out of various windows, and in the center there was a rusted metal door.

  "There are disbelievers here?" Dramin asked.

  "There are all kinds of species here. Many offworlders as well as Beta Prometheans. Here their worship revolves around a slightly different set of principles than yours. Namely, profits. Just have a drink. You can probably get some of that sludge you like. I have some inquiries to make."

  Maldari scuttled across the open space and went inside, where the fog was replaced with an even thicker smoke, and the creaking of the wind in the ghostly starships was buried by the clink of copperware, multiple voices, and electronic noise. He searched the faces of the denizens spread about the loftlike space as he made his way along the floor to the bar.

  "Maldari, I can't say it's good to see you." The Beta Promethean bartender was the first to speak to him.

  "Isn't my credit good?" Maldari said.

  "Your credit is, but your cargo isn't," the bartender said in a low voice.

  "Picades," Maldari swore. "Who knows?"

  "Everybody. Although I think there is a settlement of offworlders three systems from here who forswear subspace communications. They may not have heard yet."

  "Very humorous."

  "You're here to trade?" the bartender said, scratching his thick eyebrow.

  "I have to talk to a few aliens first. Is Licus around?"

  "I think so. You have humanoids, then?"

  But Maldari took a steaming cup in his hands and turned his back on the bartender without answering. He scuttled slowly through the customers. In the corner, he spotted a lizardlike male with narrow eyes and a snake's head, his scaly body draped with leather. He was sitting at a table with his back to the wall, talking with half a dozen aliens from various systems. As Maldari approached, Licus looked up at him and smiled.

  He knows already, Maldari thought. Then he knows I'm in a corner. But the females will still be worth a fortune, if we move quickly.

  "Maldari, I've been expecting you," Licus hissed.

  "I don't know why," Maldari said, sitting on an empty stool across from him without acknowledging the other offworlders around the table. Licus nodded at them, and they disappeared into the smoke of the establishment.

  "It could be because I am the only one in this system who deals in living species."

  "There are others," Maldari noted. "Trafficking in sentient species other than Betas is not illegal."


  "Perhaps not. But even I have never tried to sell a Federation Starfleet officer."

  "If they disappear quickly into a far galaxy, they will soon be forgotten."

  "You don't know humans."

  "Two of them are women. One is a magnificent specimen, worth a small fortune."

  Licus's heavy-lidded eyes sparkled for the first time. "And the other?" he asked.

  "Older, but also good."

  "Only two women …"

  "Licus, let's get down to business. Seventy thousand kerns."

  Licus's placid face lit up.

  "You mean you have them here?"

  "They are well guarded."

  "Picades! You must have brought the whole starfleet with you."

  "They didn't follow us. They couldn't. A Starship that size couldn't navigate through the Kitarian Cloud Rocks. Listen, there are eleven altogether. Seventy thousand kerns is a bargain."

  "Let's go see," Licus hissed. Maldari got up and scuttled toward the door. He looked around for Dramin, but the fanatic had disappeared. Good riddance, he thought.

  Lieutenant Roose sat on the hard floor, leaned his back against the bulwark, and listened idly to the two men next to him.

  "I hope," Dr. Bernard Hans said to Spiros Focus, "this isn't going to be the ignominious end to a glorious career."

  "The Excelsior is my first assignment, and I only joined her two months ago," Spiros answered glumly. "That is hardly a career."

  "I was referring to my own," Hans said, smiling at the young man. "I have served as ship's surgeon aboard Federation Starships for four decades now, and was only just the other morning contemplating retirement. Stuck in the hold of an unreliable shuttle in an obscure corner of a far galaxy at the mercy of absurd characters from a comic-opera civilization is hardly what I had planned for my retirement."

  The young cadet looked at him sympathetically.

  Hans went on, primarily out of the conviction that idle chatter was better than silence for morale.

  "I had in mind something a good deal more bucolic. Fishing the canals of Mars, reading mystery novels under warm Venusian skies, perhaps a visit to the famous gardens of Orgon. Why, I might even take up a hobby. The commander is always recommending one or another."