Nostrene’s reverie was broken by the first in what quickly became a series of alarms coming from the observation stations at the front of the command deck.
“Commander,” Dlyax said, “we are experiencing a power fall-off.”
Moving toward the forward stations, Nostrene replied, “What is causing it?”
The scientist was keying commands into his console and studying the rapidly shifting patterns of light on his suite of monitors. “I cannot ascertain the cause. All systems are functioning normally, but there is an unexplained power drain in the drive system.”
For a moment, Nostrene was worried that the ship might be rendered inert in space. “How serious is this drain?”
“It is not severe, Commander, but it is enough to disrupt our subspace field.”
Given the choice between slowing to sublight speeds on his own or being ripped from subspace by a malfunctioning propulsion system, Nostrene preferred the first option. “Decelerate to light minus eight.” Turning back to Dlyax, he said, “Initiate a diagnostic check of the drive systems.”
Another voice called out from behind him, “Commander, our sensors are registering some unusual readings.”
Now what? Was the entire ship falling apart?
“What is it?” he asked as he made his way to the sensor officer’s station.
The subordinate manning the station did not look up at his commander’s approach. “I have detected a disruption in space at bearing four point nine relative to our current position. It wasn’t there during my initial scans a few moments ago, Commander.”
The report was far too vague for Nostrene’s tastes. “Be more specific.”
“I cannot, Commander. The sensors are behaving quite erratically. They report it as an object, yet I cannot verify the readings.”
If an object had been detected so close to the ship, Nostrene knew that automated defensive systems would have alerted the crew to possible danger. That none of that had happened deepened his concern. Was an enemy who could render themselves invisible to sensors attacking them? Was a Romulan ship out there, attempting a covert strike?
“Is there a flaw in the sensor equipment?” Nostrene asked.
“Not that I have been able to find, Commander,” the sensor officer replied. “It is as if this region of space is physically deteriorating.”
“A localized phenomenon?” There were no intelligence reports of anything unusual encountered in this area. It was a lightly traveled region, one of the reasons it was selected as the site of the experiment in the first place.
“Put that area on the main screen,” he ordered.
All eyes turned as the image on the forward screen changed. At first Nostrene saw no discernible difference from the field of stars that had been there previously. It appeared tranquil, almost the very image he carried in his mind even when he was planetbound to tide him over until he could return to space once again.
“There,” the helmsman said, pointing at the screen. “Upper left quadrant.”
Nostrene saw it too. Amid the blanket of stars beckoning to them, a dark area had appeared. It was small but opaque, and therefore contrasting sharply against the starfield.
“Magnify that area,” Nostrene said, stepping closer to the screen. The image shifted again and now the dark area dominated the center of the screen. It was irregular in shape, its edges fluctuating with no noticeable pattern. Everyone on the command deck watched as the patch of darkness expanded, then contracted to almost disappear entirely before repeating the process all over again.
“It looks like a hole in space,” the helmsman said.
Nostrene agreed. In all the years he had traveled space he had never seen anything like what was displayed on the screen.
“I am detecting spiking radiation levels coming from that area, Commander,” the sensor officer reported. “They are slight, but there nonetheless.”
“Is there a danger to the ship?” Nostrene asked.
The subordinate took an extra moment to confirm his readings before replying. “Negative, Commander, at least so long as we maintain this distance.”
“Commander!”
Nostrene’s attention snapped back to the screen at the call in time to see the interior of the “hole,” as he had come to think of it, shift as a blue-green field of energy appeared.
“Enlarge that,” Nostrene ordered, and the image appeared to jump forward. The energy distortion became more detailed and he could see static discharges and rippling effects as the field undulated within the confines of the dark area.
“Are you saying the sensors register none of that?” he asked.
“That is correct, Commander. We see it, but our sensors give no indication that it exists at all.”
In front of him, the helmsman nearly came out of his chair as he pointed to the screen. “ Commander, look!”
On the viewer, the energy field wavered and expanded violently as, out of the nothingness that was the dark hole amid the stars, an object began to materialize, quickly taking on form and substance. With the image magnified as it was, Nostrene easily made out seams between scarred hull plates and areas where bare metal now shone through what had once been a brightly painted finish.
A ship.
“Sensor readings?”
Behind him, the sensor officer studied his console and shook his head. “I have managed to tune the sensors to at least detect the vessel, but readings are inconclusive at best. There are no signs of life or power sources. I believe the ship to be a derelict, Commander.”
Nostrene suspected as much, having already recognized the design of the ship as soon as it had become visible. He hadn’t seen such a vessel except in historical documents, but there was no mistaking the large, saucer-shaped hull supported by a pylon above a smaller cylindrical secondary section and the pair of long nacelles resting on their own support pylons. Though the design had been refined and improved over the many years the Tholians had been aware of it, the basic tenets had remained the same.
Behind him, his weapons officer confirmed his suspicion. “Commander, our tactical database identifies it as a Federation Constitution -class starship. According to our information, that model of vessel was retired from active service long ago.”
“Are there any indications of other ships in this area?” Both the weapons and sensor officers replied with negative reports.
“So what is it doing in our space?” Dlyax asked, staring at the ghostly image of the ship.
Nostrene had no answer. Learning of the ship’s presence in Tholian space would certainly put some government officials on edge. Despite the warming of relations with the Federation, distrust and even contempt for its principles continued to simmer within the ranks of the Assembly’s elder statesmen.
Seeing the ship on the screen, however, his instincts told him such worries were unfounded. If the ship was indeed a derelict, then it was likely that neither the Federation nor the Assembly had any knowledge of its whereabouts, let alone the circumstances surrounding its appearance here and now, long after such a vessel would have been retired from normal service.
Such judgments, though, were not his to make.
“We must report this discovery,” he said finally. “They will know best how to proceed.”
CHAPTER
2
As he traversed one of the numerous corridors of Starfleet Headquarters, Captain Montgomery Scott felt as though red-alert klaxons were sounding but only he could hear them. His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to officers mingling or casually going about their business. He returned a few polite nods but didn’t stop to talk or even smile back when their glances met his. There was no time for niceties. It was a key difference between Headquarters and serving on a starship, he had learned. People here could be on full alert, but hardly ever at the same time.
His combadge chirped for his attention, followed by a female voice. “Captain Scott, please report to Briefing Room 23 immediately.”
“Aye, lass
ie,” he said as he tapped the badge, “and since we last spoke, where did ya think I might be goin’?”
The question went unanswered. “I’ll tell them you’re still on your way, sir.”
“Scott out.” He sighed as he severed the connection. Whatever it was that awaited him in Briefing Room 23 must be important indeed to have his assistant page him twice in as many minutes.
Probably some politician with his nose all out of joint .
Scotty didn’t break stride as he turned toward a pair of doors that parted at his approach. As he entered the briefing room, the first person he saw was a man wearing civilian clothes and the puckered expression he normally associated with a typical Federation diplomat.
Ach. Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed , he thought as he braced himself for what was sure to be a long day. As he made his way to one of the empty chairs surrounding the conference table, Scotty put on his “admiral’s smile.” It was the one that allowed him to bite the inside of his cheek when a politician inevitably said something to irritate him.
In addition to the civilian eyeing him impatiently, Scotty noted the unfamiliar Starfleet commander also seated at the table. An Andorian, the commander’s rich blue skin contrasted sharply with the dark colors of his uniform. Scotty decided that the commander, like a growing number of officers he ran into these days, looked like he’d just graduated from the Academy.
Does his mother know he’s playin’ Starfleet?
As quickly as the thought surfaced, Scotty admonished himself. Not everyone could be an eighty-year old captain with fifty or more years in Starfleet, after all.
“Good morning, Captain. Thanks for joining us on such short notice,” said the third person in the briefing room and the only one Scotty recognized, Admiral William Ross.
The admiral presented an imposing figure dressed in his dark Starfleet uniform. Jet black hair, cut short and liberally speckled with gray, added to a severe expression dominated by piercing blue eyes. Ross was one of the few flag officers Scotty respected implicitly, due primarily to the fact that the admiral had risen through the ranks while serving in the fleet instead of occupying staff positions. He had commanded vessels and people in peace and in war, and he had earned the trust of those he led.
Ross also knew that most issues faced by commanders in the field rarely if ever resembled the tidy tactical problems presented to cadets at the Academy. It gave him a wisdom shaped by experience that Scotty usually found lacking in other officers in similar positions. It also made Ross in high demand at Starfleet Headquarters, especially during critical situations. If the admiral was here now, then something big had to be brewing.
“Aye, Admiral,” Scotty said as he settled into one of the conference chairs. “What have ye got?”
“We have a developing situation that requires not only your department’s expertise, but your own as well.”
Ross indicated the Andorian and the civilian. “This is Commander Grelin, our liaison with Starfleet Intelligence, and this is Mr. Marshall of the Diplomatic Corps.”
Considering the presence of Grelin and Marshall, Scotty hardly believed whatever was happening was going to be a routine matter for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, the department he had been appointed to oversee by Ross himself.
The assignment had come as part thoughtful gesture and part impassioned plea, with the admiral seeing a singular opportunity to take advantage of Scotty’s vast experience and unique perspective. After all, how many other officers could lay claim to having served aboard Starfleet vessels more than a century ago?
After his rescue almost eight years before from the wreck of the U.S.S. Jenolen , where he had been suspended in a transporter beam for seventy-five years, Scotty had flirted with self-pity at being removed from his friends and loved ones by nearly a century. It hadn’t taken him long, however, to embrace this new era and all the challenges it presented. The offer from Ross had come soon afterward, but Scotty really hadn’t needed an invitation to return to Starfleet. In his heart, he had never truly left.
Ross said, “Captain, Starfleet was contacted earlier this morning by representatives of the Tholian Assembly. They reported the presence of what appears to be a derelict Federation starship within their territorial borders. I don’t think I need to tell you how upset the Tholians are.”
It was an understatement, Scotty knew. The Tholians had always been protective of their region of space, only rarely allowing foreign vessels to cross their boundaries. Relations between the Assembly and the Federation had improved in recent years, but they were still nowhere near what Scotty would call “stable.”
“This is of great concern to us,” Marshall said, insinuating himself into the conversation in that manner all diplomats seemed to employ and which almost always annoyed Scotty to no end. “Just seeing one of our ships in their space is enough for the Tholians to declare all-out war.”
“I don’t think the situation is that extreme, Mr. Marshall,” Ross countered. “One of the few good things that came out of the Dominion War was better diplomatic relations with the Tholians.” He didn’t bother to shield the skeptical look on his face as he added, “At least, that’s what we keep hearing from the Diplomatic Corps.”
“Those relations came at a very high price, Admiral,” Marshall said, bristling at Ross’s jab. “We intend to cultivate them, not jeopardize the peace every time one of your captains steers a ship where it’s not supposed to go.”
Ross didn’t rise to the baiting. “Sir, Starfleet has not authorized any vessel to enter Tholian space. This incident was a complete surprise to us, just as it should have been. The ship in question hasn’t seen active duty since stardate 5685.5.”
The date struck Scotty with the intensity of a physical blow. All of the puzzle pieces fell into place as the completed picture became clear to the seasoned engineer.
“The Defiant ,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
“That’s impossible,” Grelin blurted, his antennae twitching noticeably in alarm. “The Defiant is currently docked at Deep Space 9. They couldn’t possibly have traveled to Tholian space in such a—”
“Laddie,” Scotty said, cutting the Andorian off, “did they stop teaching history at the Academy altogether, or are ye just too accustomed to hearin’ five-digit stardates?” He turned to Ross. “Now I know why I’m here, sir.”
Ross couldn’t suppress a smile. “Gentlemen, in 2268 the Constitution -class U.S.S. Defiant was lost with all hands when it traveled into an interspatial rift in an area of space subsequently claimed as a territorial annex of the Tholian Assembly. According to the Tholians, the rift reopened two weeks ago, and the Defiant has been scanned drifting in and out of it nine times since its initial reappearance. The average duration of its visibility is three hours and twelve minutes, though the intervals are by no means consistent.
“In more than a century, just one Federation starship has encountered the Defiant since her disappearance. That ship had the only opportunity to learn what happened to the ship and her crew.” Ross indicated Scotty with a gesture. “We’re just lucky enough to have a member of that ship’s crew with us today.” Steely blue eyes fixed on the engineer.
“Scotty, do you want another crack at her?”
The Defiant . It was one of many memorable missions Scotty had been a part of as a crewmember of the original Enterprise . It also was one of a handful of mysteries they’d encountered that remained unsolved. Leaving the Defiant locked in the spatial rift had never set well with him. The vessel numbered among the original Constitution -class starships, and it was one of two such vessels that Scotty had seen lost or destroyed during his tenure aboard the Enterprise .
Three, counting the ol’ girl herself , Scotty reminded himself.
Constitution -class ships held a special place in his heart, as such a vessel was where Scotty had served his first tour as chief engineer. The fleet museum contained a Constitution, and he’d traveled there many times in recent years.
He enjoyed walking the decks or inspecting the bridge and, on rare occasions, treating himself to the warm familiarity of her engine room. Her powerful warp engines may have been silenced long ago, but Scotty could close his eyes and almost hear their comforting throb of power.
Hoping his voice wouldn’t break, he said. “Aye, that I do, sir.”
“Admiral,” Commander Grelin said as he leaned forward in his chair, “what’s to say this isn’t some kind of ploy to lure us into a trap?”
By way of reply, Ross thumbed a keypad on the tabletop that activated the briefing room’s main viewscreen. It promptly displayed an image of the century-old starship, glowing a fluorescent blue seemingly from within and winking in and out of sync with the universe.
“This was relayed to us from one of our Epsilon deep space reconnaissance stations that was retasked to monitor the region,” Ross said. “We’ve no reason to believe what we’re seeing isn’t authentic.”
Scotty remembered that day, ages ago, when he had first laid eyes on the missing ship. “Admiral, that’s just what she looked like from the bridge of the Enterprise .”
“This invitation to reclaim the Defiant doesn’t come lightly,” Ross said. “The Tholians aren’t excited about a Federation ship working in their space, but they want this situation resolved before word of the rift and the ship spreads to every sightseer and salvager in the quadrant. They’re grateful enough for our assistance during the Dominion War that they’re allowing us an escorted attempt to get the Defiant back. We’re going to take it.”
Marshall nodded. “We’re looking forward to working with the Tholians in such an atmosphere of cooperation. It is an unprecedented endeavor and could do much to improve our relations with the Assembly. But know this, gentlemen: I believe the progress we’ve made with the Tholians is far more important than the recovery of some relic that’s remembered only by history buffs.”
Diplomats, Scotty huffed to himself. “Mr. Marshall, I dinna know about all the political ramifications, but surely ye’d agree that it’s important to bring the ship’s crew home for the final respects they deserve.”
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