“It may remain sufficient to allow a limited form of communication,” Spock finished. “Are you familiar with the concept of an ansible transmitter?”
“I am aware of the research in that field.”
“Excellent. Let us begin.”
Yes, Simok reflected as they went to work. Quite an effective partnership indeed.
XI
Vedala planetoid
Stardate inapplicable
Once the Enterprise entered Protectorate territory, Uhura began transmitting a message to the Vulcan fleet declaring the vessel’s nonhostile intentions and requesting assistance in defense against the KAC. The message included the Enterprise’s sensor logs of their escape from Regulus, including their detonation of Regulus Ab’s hydrogen shell. Part of Captain Kirk’s reason for that flamboyant gesture was to send up a flare bright enough that the Vulcans’ subspace monitoring posts could not have failed to register it. It served as independent verification of their story.
When they were intercepted by Commander Sekel’s fleet hours later, at least they weren’t shot at on sight, which was a promising sign. “By now,” Kirk told Sekel over the viewscreen, “your scientists have probably deduced some of the essentials about where the Vedala planetoid and our vessel came from—and where the Muroc most likely ended up. Commander, we have a common goal: figure out the Vedala drive so we can get both ships back where they belong. Aboard our ship,” he said, gesturing to T’Viss, “is one of the most gifted physicists of our universe, and many of the finest scientific minds in Starfleet. Whereas your scientists already have a headstart studying the Vedala drives. It’s . . . logical . . . for us to combine our efforts.”
Sekel agreed the logic was sound, though he voiced some skepticism about T’Viss’s qualifications, given that the T’Viss of his timeline was apparently a reclusive artist living in the Vulcan desert, devoting her life to the construction of intricate, ephemeral sand sculptures that no one understood. Doctor T’Viss’s scandalized reaction to the news was a thing to behold.
And so it was that, a day later, the Enterprise was back in orbit of the Vedala planetoid, flanked by Protectorate ringships as Montgomery Scott and T’Viss joined the Vulcan teams who had unearthed several of the confluence drives buried beneath its surface.
Scott had never beheld any technology quite like the Vedala drive that loomed above him now, an intricate, eight-meter-wide sphere of nested lattices around a dimly glowing, organic-looking core. The drive hovered in the center of a spherical chamber over twenty meters wide, with narrow spines extending toward, but not physically touching, the illuminated nodes on its outer lattice. Gravity in the chamber behaved oddly, pulling radially outward in all directions, so that Scott and the Protectorate scientists could walk freely around the entire inner surface of the sphere. Looking above him now, he could see assorted Vulcans, Romulans, and the odd Denobulan or Mazarite standing over his head at odd angles, their definitions of “down” differing from his. Normally the gravitational field inside a uniform spherical shell, whether naturally or artificially generated, would cancel to zero at any point, Scott thought. So either the chamber’s artificial gravity effect dropped off after a few meters’ distance like starship gravity plating, or the drive in the center was as opaque to gravitons as it was to neutrinos.
The Enterprise team was briefed by the head of the Protectorate research team, a Vulcan named Sornek who appeared to be roughly the same age as Spock’s father. “This drive, like others around it,” Sornek explained, “was damaged by radiation from a massive explosion that struck the planetoid some decades ago. It is unclear whether this was a natural impact event or an attack; we know so little of the Vedala that we cannot rule out the possibility that they have enemies.” The thought of enemies mighty enough to overwhelm the Vedala was intimidating to Scott. They were a nonaggressive, highly reclusive race, but their power was known to be vast. But then, that made it unlikely that they’d be caught off guard by a mere asteroid impact, didn’t it? Unless they’d already abandoned the planetoid for some other reason.
“The Muroc chose to sample an undamaged drive from the other side of the planetoid,” Sornek went on. “However, our study of identical drives shows no capacity for the kind of interphasic transfer we have observed. Further investigation has revealed that the radiation from the impact event altered the quantum-level circuitry of this and other adjacent drives in a manner analogous to a biological mutation. The drives appear to have some capacity for self-repair, and while they were able to restore themselves to functionality, they did so in an altered way that somehow permits the interphasic effect.”
“All o’ them bein’ mutated the same way?” Scott asked. “That doesna seem likely.”
“Given the interconnectedness of the system, we theorize that the drives take their repair cues from the nearest functional drive they can interface with. Presumably one of the drives was ‘mutated’ in a way that left it functional yet altered so as to produce the interphasic effect, and the others reconfigured themselves to match. A single such drive would be insufficient to transpose an entire planetary body between quantum histories, but the combined array can certainly do so.”
“But you say the drive aboard the Muroc is unaltered,” T’Viss said. “This means that they will be unable to return unless we initiate the transfer here.”
“Well, then, we’d better get on with it, hadn’t we?” Scott asked.
And so they did. Luckily, Sornek and his people knew their stuff; they had already made significant progress, if not in understanding how the technology worked, at least in tracing its interface and control circuitry. With the added insights T’Viss and Scott brought, they were soon able to interpret their readings of the drives’ activity and begin to construct a model of how they could reactivate the universe-jumping effect.
But soon enough, Scott noticed something else in the readings, a fluctuation in the quantum circuitry that T’Viss and Sornek could not account for but Scott soon recognized. “It’s an old Starfleet binary code, sir,” Scott told Kirk over his wrist communicator. “One designed for basic text and numerical communication over very low-bandwidth systems. The message is prefaced with the string ‘S one seven nine two seven six SP,’ sir.”
A moment of silence. “Spock’s serial number!” Kirk cried.
“Blasted long-winded Vulcan,” McCoy grumbled in the background, but his relief was clear. “Why not just send his name?”
“Standard procedure,” Kirk replied. “He needed a unique identifier so we’d know for sure it was him.” The captain laughed. “I should’ve known he’d come running as soon as he heard we were missing. Scotty, what does the message say?”
“Basic instructions for how to coordinate communication with, er, the other side, sir, so we can reinforce the connection that allowed the switch to happen—the same connection he’s sendin’ the message through. He says we and the Muroc need to activate our drives at the same time. They’re ready whenever we are, sir—ours are the ones that actually cause the universe jump, with them along for the ride, so they just have to flip the switch when we tell them to. But we still need time to sort out the details on our end.”
A longer pause. “Better make it fast, Scotty. Commander Sekel informs me that a Klingon-Andorian fleet is incoming—a big one. They’ll be here in less than three hours.”
“We’ll need more than that, sir,” Scott said, and it was no exaggeration. “You and the Vulcans’ll have to hold them off as long as you can.”
“We’ll make sure you have the time, Scotty. Kirk out.”
Scott shook his head. “He makes it sound so easy.” He looked up at the barely comprehensible, almost living piece of technology that loomed over his head—that would always be over his head no matter where he stood in relation to it. He tried not to see that as a symbol of the hopelessness of the task. After all, we basically just have to turn the blessed thing on. How hard can that be?
Still, he said a silent prayer be
fore getting to work.
U.S.S. Enterprise
“The Vulcans have lost another ship!” Chekov cried from the tactical station. “A Compact vessel is going for the gap!”
“On viewer,” Kirk ordered. “Stand ready.” It was frustrating having to watch passively while dozens of Protectorate and Compact starships battled for control of the Vedala planetoid. But the Enterprise had to stay in orbit to ensure it was taken along when the confluence drives engaged. So the best they could manage was to serve as a rear guard, maintaining control of the planetoid’s orbital space. On the plus side, that passive position let them avoid overtly taking sides in a battle that, according to the Prime Directive, they should not be involved in at all. Yet it was frustrating to have the fate of his ship and crew depend on others. A part of him was almost hoping the KAC vessel would break through and engage the Enterprise.
But on the viewer, the incoming ship was struck by a barrage of phaser fire and broke off. Sekel’s flagship swooped into view and harried it back out to a higher orbit. Kirk hit one of the intercom switches on the command chair’s left arm, opening the channel assigned to the flagship. “Commander Sekel, this is Kirk. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Personal thanks are illogical, Kirk. I act to ensure that Vedala technology does not fall into the Compact’s hands. Ensure that you continue to do the same.”
McCoy leaned down over Kirk’s shoulder. “Jim, if this works and the Muroc comes back, then Vedala technology’s gonna fall into the so-called Protectorate’s hands. How is that any better?”
Kirk had been asking himself that very question, and he didn’t like the answer. But he voiced it anyway. “There’s nothing we can do about that, Bones. We don’t have the right to decide these people’s fate.”
“But isn’t that what we’re doing? Giving the Vulcans the edge so we can get our own butts home?”
“Anything could happen once the Muroc gets back. And at least they’ll only have one isolated drive, not a whole planetoid filled with Vedala technology.” He gestured to the screen. “That’s a lot of Klingon-Andorian ships out there. We’ll be lucky to get out of this ourselves.”
McCoy grimaced at the reminder. “In that case, I should be down helping Christine get sickbay ready for casualties.”
Kirk smiled up at him. “I’ll do my best to disappoint you.”
The doctor nodded back. “You do that.”
As McCoy left, Kirk hit the channel to the surface. “Scotty, how’s it coming?”
“Another ten minutes at least, sir. These Vedala software protocols are the devil’s own tangle.”
“Sir!” Chekov called. “Another Vulcan ship down!”
“Scotty, we may not have ten minutes.”
“Ach, do we ever, sir? I’ll let you know. Scott out.”
From his place at the helm—since Kirk had wanted his best pilot there if it came down to combat—Sulu studied the flow of battle. “Captain,” the acting exec said after a few moments, “I have an idea. We can blind the Compact’s sensors like we did before.”
“But, Commander,” Chekov said, “we have too few photon mines remaining. And they would be a hazard to the Protectorate ships.”
“Not with mines—with shuttlecraft. We can remote-pilot them around the Vulcan ships, then detonate them in front of the Compact ships. We could distract them, maybe disrupt their shields and sensors enough to take away their advantage.”
Sulu offered the suggestion without hesitation, with the confidence needed in a first officer. Kirk caught the man’s eyes and offered a nod that approved of more than just his proposal. “Do it, Mister Sulu.”
With only a quick grin of acknowledgment, Sulu got on the comm to the hangar deck crew and gave them instructions. The wedge-shaped modular shuttlecraft would first need to be outfitted with impulse engines and weapons pods, but the deck crew had been well-trained under Sulu’s guidance as chief helmsman, and so all four modular shuttles were on their way within three minutes, plenty of time for Uhura to brief the Vulcans on the plan. As their remote pilots bobbed and weaved them around the Protectorate ships on the viewscreen, Kirk reflected that this adventure was costing them most of their support craft. Well, there would be plenty more where those had come from, assuming the Enterprise managed to return to its own universe.
The shuttles soon engaged the Compact ships, their phasers barely more than an irritant—but the warrior’s pride of their Klingon (and, to an extent, Andorian) officers compelled them to retaliate against the insult. The shuttles led them on a chase that maneuvered as many of them as possible within range of the four small craft before they detonated their impulse engines, flooding the enemy sensors with radiation—sensors that had already been the true targets of the phaser fire, softening them up for the final blow. It was too early to say how much they’d been impaired by the blasts, but the shuttles had drawn them out of formation and the Vulcans had taken advantage of the disruption. Kirk didn’t approve of the ruthlessness with which the Protectorate ships demolished the opponents Sulu’s maneuver had left vulnerable. But it had given him a fighting chance to get his crew home, and that had to be his priority.
“Scott to Enterprise!” came a welcome voice from the surface. “We’re as ready as we’re goin’ to be down here, and the Muroc signals ready on their side. Sornek and his people are beamin’ back to their ships. My team will stay here and—I hope—ride through with the Enterprise. On your signal, sir.”
“Good man, Scotty! Uhura, general hail!”
“Open, sir.”
“Attention, all vessels in the vicinity of the Vedala planetoid! This is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. In a moment, the interspatial drives on the Vedala planetoid will begin to engage. These drives will generate a spatial distortion field which we estimate will be at least ten thousand kilometers in radius. Any vessel caught within this field when it activates will be transported to a different space-time continuum. Be advised: if you ever wish to see your homes again, then do not approach the planetoid. Kirk out.” He switched channels. “Scotty, go!”
“Drives engaged, sir!”
“Kirk to all personnel! Secure for interspatial transfer!”
Which was basically a more dignified way of saying “Hang on to something.” The crew had been given precautionary injections against interphase sickness, but there was still the disorientation to contend with. All around the bridge, the seated crew lowered their armrests around their thighs, securing them in place. The standing crew secured their stations and sat on the deck.
“Subspace energy surging,” Uuvu’it confirmed a moment later. “The confluence drives are active.”
“Vulcan ships breaking formation and retreating,” Chekov said. Would the Compact see this as a trick? Would they take the opportunity to make a dash for the planetoid and strand themselves in the Federation’s timeline? “Compact ships . . . are pulling back.” Apparently not. The energy surge from the planetoid must have convinced them to seek the better part of valor. The screen went white, and Kirk felt himself spinning, blacking out . . .
. . . but only for a moment. The shot must have done some good. He looked around, seeing the rest of the bridge crew recovering as well. “Status?” His eyes went to the screen. To his relief, the planetoid was still there . . . and the star patterns were different. But were they the right patterns?
“Scott to Enterprise, Scott to Enterprise! Are ye there, sir?”
Mister Scott is still with us, Kirk’s memory echoed. He hit the intercom after a couple of false tries. “Kirk here, Scotty. The ship made it through.”
“No, ah, no Protectorate . . . or Compact ships in sensor range,” Chekov managed to report. “But . . . there is a ship. . . .”
“Sir,” Uhura said, “incoming hail.” Her grogginess gave way to a joyous grin. “From the U.S.S. Hypatia, sir! It’s Mister Spock!”
Cheers went up among the crew, and Kirk’s fist triumphantly struck the arm of his seat. “Onscreen, Commander!”
/>
Uhura hastened to comply, and a long-missed visage appeared on the viewer. “Mister Spock,” Kirk said, grinning. “Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!”
Spock raised a brow. “While my eyes are experiencing no discomfort, I am gratified to see that you and the Enterprise are well. I believe ‘Welcome home’ is the proper sentiment, Captain.”
“It is indeed, you sentimental fool, you.” Spock looked mildly scandalized. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”
“Indeed. I look forward to hearing more. What I learned of the Vulcan Protectorate from the Muroc’s crew was . . . intriguing, if disturbing.”
“You should talk!” came a new voice—McCoy, fresh from the turbolift. “At least your species still exists over there. And what were you doing while we’ve been fighting for our lives? Sitting around solving equations, I imagine.”
“If you say so, Doctor.” Spock was oddly reticent to rise to the bait, and Kirk and McCoy exchanged a concerned look.
But that would have to wait. “Spock, status of the Muroc and its personnel?”
The Vulcan took on a distant look. “The vessel and all its crew vanished at the moment you and the planetoid appeared in the same space, Captain. Mister Scott on the planetoid should be receiving confirmation via ansible signal if they have returned safely.”
McCoy shook his head. “I still don’t like it—them getting to keep one of those Vedala drives.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Doctor,” Spock said. “The matter is well in hand.”
V.H.C. Muroc
Stardate inapplicable
Commander Satak stared at the surging power readings in stern disapproval, as if the sensor displays were somehow deserving of chastisement. “You must halt this buildup, Subcommander,” he told T’Pring. “With the planetoid gone, we must secure this confluence drive for the Protectorate.”
“There is nothing I can do, sir,” T’Pring told him. “The drive may have been damaged in the transition. The energy buildup is irreversible. We have no logical option but to jettison it.”
Star Trek: DTI: Forgotten History Page 21