Star Trek Prometheus - in the Heart of Chaos

by Christian Humberg

  “Negative,” Gepta replied. “We’re not going to burden ourselves. Scuttle it. And then we will continue our patrol.”

  “Aye, sir.” Henderson closed the channel. He got up from his chair, turning to face Lieutenant Commander Kraalbat. “You heard the admiral. Load a photon torpedo and target the Renao ship.”

  “Right away, Captain,” the Tellarite at tactical said.

  A yellow glowing projectile hurtled from the bottom of the bridge screen towards the ship drifting in space. The torpedo hit the solar-jumper right in its center. The vessel ceased to exist with an impressive but noiseless explosion.

  Satisfied, the captain rubbed his hands. This part of their mission was definitely a resounding success. “Commander Makzia, plot a course for the next system. Warp five.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And, Mr. Loos, get in touch with the Bougainville and arrange a rendezvous somewhere along our route. Captain Stern will want his Bynars back.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Henderson knew Rebecca Stern as a charming and generous person. But when it came to her ship or her crew, she was like a mother hen.

  “Captain!” shouted Kraalbat. “Two dozen ships are closing in at warp speed!”

  Alarmed, Henderson turned around to his tactical officer. “Where are they coming from?”

  “From the Lembatta Cluster. That’s why we didn’t spot them until now.”

  The captain whirled around to the bridge’s viewscreen and watched countless small and large spaceships drop from warp.

  “Yellow alert. Shields.”

  A warning signal sounded, and the computer called yellow alert. At the same time, signal panels across the bridge started to blink.

  “Mr. Kraalbat, scan the fleet. How many ships are we talking about?”

  “Twenty-three, sir.”

  “Armed?”

  “Some, not all. But they’re not activating any tactical systems—no shields, no weapons.”

  Henderson stood up, walking toward the viewscreen. Once he took a closer look at the newly arrived fleet, he realized what a motley bunch they were. He saw several large and bulky freighters, but most of the ships were small passenger transporters, courier vessels, and possibly patrol ships. All of them seemed to be of Renao design—and none of them looked even remotely like a solar-jumper.

  “Mr. Loos, open hailing frequencies,” he said.

  “Hailing frequencies open,” the ops officer confirmed.

  “This is Captain Henderson from the Federation starship Venture. You are in an exclusion zone that has been set up around the Lembatta Cluster. Please identify yourselves and state your intentions.”

  Loos looked at his console. “We’re receiving ten replies at the same time. There’s also constant communication among the ships. They seem pretty agitated.”

  “Can you identify some kind of leader among them?”

  “Most of the communication seems to center around one of the large freighters. That ship is also the only one attempting to establish a visual link with us.”

  Henderson nodded. “Fair enough. Open that channel.”

  A slender Renao in simple brown clothing appeared on the viewscreen, sitting in a confined but functional cockpit. The skin of his face showed deep wrinkles. His long black hair with some silver streaks had been braided and hung over his left shoulder. His violet eyes glowed only faintly, and it seemed as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Federation ship, this is Captain ak Mhanib of the space freighter Boudhani. We… Please excuse us trespassing in your exclusion zone, but we had no other choice. We need your help. Our ships are not designed for long-term space travel. Many of them are damaged, and the Renao aboard them are risking their lives if they stay there. Please, help us.”

  Bewildered, Henderson stared at him. “Captain, we’ll be happy to help, of course. But why did you leave the cluster?”

  The old Renao grimaced, and a shadow of sadness fell on his face. “Because we had no choice. The home spheres are in flames. Madness is spreading farther and farther. We’re refugees, Captain Henderson. And we have no idea where to go…”

  Space freighter Boudhani

  “That alien ship is huge,” Alyys whispered, staring out of the small porthole in the cargo hold of the algae transporter, her eyes wide with awe. And, Brossal was certain, with fear, as well.

  “They won’t hurt us,” he said, not only reassuring her but himself as well. “I’m sure they don’t mean us any harm.”

  But strictly speaking, he didn’t know that. He had heard rumors among the other refugees who were crammed into the large cargo hold with them. Allegedly there were all kinds of sphere defilers. Some—the Klin-goons—acted with terrifying brutality. They abused and abducted citizens, threatening to destroy their arcologies with their disruptor weapons if the Renao didn’t hand them the fanatics of the Purifying Flame on a silver platter… or so it was said.

  But that’s absurd, thought Brossal. How should we hand over believers of this movement? Officially, no one belongs to them. But half of our people identify with their hatemongering about fighting against the sphere defilers from other worlds.

  Personally, he hadn’t met a single Klin-goon yet. He didn’t know what their ships looked like, or whether the stories about them were even true.

  But he prayed fervently that their small, broken fleet had fallen into the hands of the other side—the Federation. They were peaceful. He remembered that there had been a contract between the Renao and the Federation many years ago. They had traded and taken the first steps to get to know each other better. Brossal hadn’t been keen on these efforts. The Federation was a vast, multicultural star empire that expanded further and further into space, penetrating sphere after sphere in the process. The Harmony of Spheres didn’t mean anything to them. Any Renao living by the ancient traditions weren’t to mix with such people.

  Still, the Federation was definitely the lesser of two evils, compared to the Klin-goons. Their philosophy might be thoughtless and blasphemous, but at least they were peace-loving. But is that really the truth? he asked himself. Flyers from the Purifying Flame came to his mind. They had told stories about the terrible wars that had raged beyond the borders of the Lembatta Cluster in recent years. And why exactly had the government canceled the agreement with the nations of the Federation? He felt the cold chill of fear spreading through his entrails. Is it possible that they are just as dangerous as the Klin-goons, after all?

  “They’re coming closer,” Alyys whispered, “Iad’s enemies.”

  “Be quiet, Aly! I don’t want to hear about Iad or the Son of the Ancient Reds!” Brossal shook his daughter, perhaps a little too fiercely. But he was so terribly exhausted. Kynnil was dead, Hisk had disappeared. Madness had torn them away from Brossal. Alyys was all he had left, his only purpose in life. She was the only reason he carried on. She was the only reason why he had fled from Xhehenem, leaving the home sphere behind. And even if it stood in contrast to everything that had ever been important to him—for her, he would be willing to live in foreign nations, on a world and in a sphere that wasn’t home.

  Above them, the loudspeakers of the ship’s internal communication system crackled with the voice of the captain, relief evident in the tone of his voice. “Attention, everyone. The Federation starship Venture has agreed to take us aboard. We will receive food and accommodation. The injured will be treated. They will take us to safety.”

  Some people started cheering. But most of them just glanced at each other, insecure. Brossal ak Ghantur was one of the latter. They will take us to safety. These words lingered like a promise, sweet and menacing at the same time. Where will we end up? Where lies our future? Not within the Lembatta Cluster, that much was certain. Not at home. But would he really be able to live in a foreign region; he, of all people, who had never in his life traveled further from home than to Kharanto’s offshore algae growth station?

  “Where are they taking us?” asked Alyys, who appa
rently had similar thoughts. Anxiously, she looked at him.

  Brossal pulled his daughter close, embracing her reassuringly. “I don’t know,” he whispered in her ear. “But wherever it may be—promise me that we both manage to live on. We must. For Mother and Hisk.” He looked at Alyys solemnly.

  She remained silent for a moment. In her eyes was a flicker, a hint of a child’s fury. He was scared to ask what she was thinking in that moment.

  “Yes,” said Alyys finally. “For Mother and Hisk.”

  20

  NOVEMBER 30, 2385

  U.S.S. Prometheus, in the Taurus Dark Cloud

  A huge purple energy discharge flickered across the viewscreen on the bridge. It hit the Prometheus’s shields, fraying out into countless small branches. Adams could hear crackling and pattering all over the outer hull.

  “Shields down to sixty percent,” Carson said.

  “Engage polaron modulator,” Adams said. “Auxiliary power to the regeneration routines.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  During a battle situation, these precautionary measures would have been premature. Sixty percent was still more than enough shield strength for the Prometheus in combat. But the chaos zone they were crossing was more treacherous than a phaser or torpedo. Abruptly appearing radiation fields or gravimetric shear put a lot of pressure on the three ship sections. Fortunately, the adaptive radiation filter and the regeneration routines that Kirk and Mendon had improved worked as perfectly as they had hoped.

  So far.

  With their modified sensors, Mendon had managed to detect a source of psychic radiation deep within the swirling energies that was similar to the Son’s emanations. Adams and Spock agreed that it was worth a look, so they had been heading toward it for five hours now at full impulse speed.

  The captain looked left where Winter and Spock were busy trying to work out a method of communicating with the White Guardian, or whoever else they might find. Since these beings consisted of pure psychic energy, their best approach so far involved sending recurrent radiation patterns from Prometheus’s main deflector dish in the hope of initiating a basic conversation.

  So far, they hadn’t exceeded the binary phase of yes and no. Adams was glad to have the old diplomat by his side. The way things looked currently, they would have to depend on him once again in order to establish contact with the incorporeal being.

  Adams wiped his face with his hand. He needed some coffee. He hadn’t had more than five hours sleep. This is not healthy, he thought. He knew exactly what Doctor Barai would say: “You should trust your crew, Captain, to manage the ship even if you’re not present. You chose these people, remember?” Once this crisis is over, I’ll make sure that all of us get two weeks’ shore leave. He, for one, was in serious need of it.

  Carson noticed something on her console. “Careful, there’s a graviton eruption on the port side.”

  “Lieutenant ak Namur, turn the ship into the current,” Adams said.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The swirling and lightning on the viewscreen seemed to shift position as the young Renao brought the Prometheus about. The board computer controlled both secondary hulls in perfect harmony so that their proximity remained unchanged and the mutual shield bubble stayed at maximum strength.

  Only a few seconds later the Prometheus shuddered under the impact of graviton particles. Adams experienced a strange sensation of bobbing while the systems tried to compensate for the unexpected lateral gravitation. The hull vibrated so heavily for a couple of seconds that the captain clenched his teeth to prevent himself from biting his tongue.

  Just like all phenomena they had encountered so far, this one didn’t last long. The stream of gravitons died down and turned into something else. The light flickered once, and the situation on the bridge returned to normal.

  “Resume course.”

  “Resuming course,” said ak Namur.

  Winter turned away from his comm station, looking at Adams. “Captain, we’re ready now to send our general greeting on a wavelength that the energy beings might understand.” Since they had entered the chaos zone they had been sending on all frequencies, asking to establish contact. So far, they hadn’t received a response.

  “I believe our statement should be very specific,” said Spock. “We are sending an urgent impulse of sorts, periodically repeated. In order to arouse the Guardian’s interest, we are copying the radiation pattern as best we can. Even if the meaning might be cryptic for the entity, we should be able to at least attract its attention.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping, anyway,” Winter added.

  Nodding, Adams said, “Let’s give it a try.”

  Winter touched a keypad. “Sending signal.”

  A faint ping sounded from the communications console, repeating in intervals of two seconds. Adams turned away from the station, focusing his attention once again on the viewscreen. Static noise danced across the screen like dense snowfall. Beyond, green flashes danced in a maelstrom of ionized matter.

  “Captain, I’m picking up a widespread field of thalaron radiation straight ahead,” Mendon said. “I urgently recommend we avoid flying through that field.”

  Adams frowned. “I thought thalaron radiation was artificial… Oh, forget it.” There was no point in being surprised about anything in this zone that seemed to defy all known laws of nature. “Lieutenant ak Namur, initiate course correction for all ship segments. Mr. Mendon, keep an eye on that field. Let us know if it shifts.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  The “snowstorm” on the viewscreen increased for a short while before disappearing altogether as they advanced into a region of the chaos zone with less radiation.

  Two red glowing dots appeared in the distance ahead of them.

  “Captain, we’re approaching a twin star system,” ak Namur said. “Two red supergiants, spectral type M1 and M2. They’re not listed in Starfleet’s database as they’re right in the center of the chaos zone.”

  “Fascinating,” Spock said. “The Lembatta Cluster is also a concentration of red giants. The Son’s appearance in that location might give us a clue as to the preferred habitat of this energy species.”

  “Are we picking up psychic radiation patterns similar to those of the Son near those stars?” Adams asked Mendon.

  “Negative, sir. The main source that we’re following is still twelve light hours away from them. However… Hang on!” Mendon took two hectic inhalations from his respirator. “The source is moving. It’s approaching us at faster than light speed.”

  “How fast?”

  “Currently approximately warp four, sir. ETA, eight minutes.”

  “Red alert. Auxiliary energy to shields. Don’t ready weapon systems!” Adams swiftly returned to his command chair while the alarm signals for red alert called the crew to their stations. The alarm was more or less unnecessary. Since their arrival at the chaos zone, everyone had been at their stations anyway. But Adams wanted to let the crew know that things were about to turn serious.

  “Mr. Winter, shipwide to all three segments.”

  “Channel open, sir.”

  “Attention all hands, this is the captain. We have established contact with something that might be another member of the energy species we encountered on Iad. Please observe your emotions carefully during the next few minutes. Extreme thoughts and impulses will most likely not be induced from within your mind, but could be a result of this being’s presence. Please also look after your fellow crewmembers to avoid irrational outbreaks of violence. I trust in you and your exceptional training. Adams, out.”

  “Captain, look!” Carson said urgently.

  Adams shifted his gaze back to the viewscreen. Ahead of them, between the twin star system and the Prometheus, a zone of white glistening energy had appeared that was rapidly increasing in size.

  Adams looked at his science officer. “Analysis, Mr. Mendon.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain.” The Benzite looked bewildered. “Ther
e is virtually nothing I can tell you about this cloud of energy. All I know is that it’s approximately twenty times the size of the Prometheus, and it’s now approaching at warp three. Other than that, it’s resisting all our attempts to examine it.”

  “How strong is the psychoactive radiation?”

  “Amazingly, it has drastically decreased. Our shields should easily be able to absorb it.”

  “Understood. We should remain vigilant, though.” Adams looked toward the front again, where the energy life form had grown considerably.

  “ETA, one minute,” said Carson.

  The being looked like a cloud that was fraying at the edges, and its color reminded Adams of pure snow glittering in the sunshine.

  “The White Guardian…” Chell whispered at the engineering station.

  “That name would, if nothing else, be suitable for such a being,” Spock said.

  “Do you sense the presence of the being, Ambassador?” Adams asked.

  The Vulcan folded his hands in front of his chest and closed his eyes. “I sense an ancient presence,” he said slowly. “It does not perceive me, but it has detected the ship.”

  “Is it hostile?”

  Spock remained silent for a moment. “Difficult to ascertain. I do not sense any of the madness I sensed within the Son.”

  “That’s at least something.”

  “The life form is slowing down,” Carson said.

  “And so will we,” said Adams. “Full stop for all segments, Mr. ak Namur.”

  The Renao hastily complied.

  “Sir, it’s still coming closer,” Carson said. “Distance only ten thousand kilometers now.”

  “Ambassador?” Adams glanced at the Vulcan out of the corner of his eye.

  Spock’s eyes were still closed. Motionless like a statue he stood there, apparently listening for or to the strange presence. “I detect no hostility. Only… curiosity.”

  Adams squinted slightly, before nodding. “All right. Maintain position. Let’s see what the being’s intentions are. Mr. Winter, send a greeting.”

  “Aye, sir.”