Chapter Text
Captain Sandhurst tried not to fixate on the pulsing crimson alert lights that flared in perfect time throughout the bridge. His people were on the surface, under attack, and he was virtually helpless to assist them. Ops had been unable to cut through the sensor jamming at the settlement, and Plazzi had proved equally incapable of pinpointing the source of the interference.
So this is command, he thought soberly. Sandhurst sat in a compartment full of people and felt as lonely as if he was on a solitary trek across the Vulcan Forge. Now he began to understand why officers like William Riker were loath to give up the first officer’s position. Better to be in the thick of the action than to sit and wait in impotent silence.
“Chief Towsend to Captain Sandhurst.”
The transporter chief’s voice seemed to boom from the overhead speakers on the tension filled bridge.
“Go ahead, Chief.”
“No go on the transporter lock, sir. Do you want me to put them down outside the zone of interference?"
“Negative, Chief. Send them to the shuttle bay.”
“Aye, sir.”
An alarm began to sound at both the Science and Operations consoles simultaneously. Plazzi acknowledged it first, “Sir, we’re detecting an anomalous energy signature. It…” he paused, his screen flickering as he struggled to divine meaning from raw data, “…it appears to be some kind of subspace disturbance, localized to several sections of Gibraltar’s hull, Captain.”
Sandhurst sat forward, “Our hull? Explain.”
Plazzi scratched at his beard. “I’d love to, sir. However, all the sensors are telling me is there’s been some kind of highly localized subspace disruption. It was restricted to within one-one-hundredth of a millimeter of our hull plating.”
At Operations, Juneau announced, “Sir, I’m getting a distress call from the Phoenix.” She frowned, “It looks like their automated disaster beacon, Captain.” The junior lieutenant took some measure of comfort from not having yelled her observations like a panicked cadet this time.
Sandhurst stood. “Put Phoenix on screen.” The image on the main viewer shifted and centered on the starship, a tiny silver point holding position above Lakesh’s day side. “Magnify.” Another shift in the display revealed the Nebula-class ship under her own power with running lights cycling normally. “Any information on the nature of the emergency, Mister Juneau?”
She accessed the encrypted subtext of the signal. “Yes, sir.” Juneau quickly scanned the content, “It appears internal sensors detected a viral contaminant that was identified in several areas of the ship simultaneously. The crew in the affected areas collapsed, and the ship’s computer automatically initiated ship wide quarantine protocols.”
Sandhurst gripped the back of Juneau’s seat headrest with such force that his knuckles began to whiten. He forced himself to relax his hands as he called to Plazzi, “Elisto, can you confirm that?”
From the Science station, Plazzi reported, “Confirmed, sir. Scans of the ship show negative internal movement by the crew, although I’m getting normal life sign readings. Emergency forcefields and bulkheads are in place. I’m also reading… a residual energy discharge.” Sandhurst turned to look at Plazzi, the older scientist’s eyes betraying a flicker of momentary terror. “It looks to be the same kind of subspace anomaly we just encountered.”
The bridge fell totally silent for a full five seconds. Sandhurst then realized all eyes were on him. He managed to ask in a reasonably conversational tone, “Any sign of pathogens aboard?”
Another ten seconds of silence followed as Plazzi conducted internal scans. “Negative, sir.”
Sandhurst turned and favored the rest of the bridge crew with a faint smile. “We’re apparently fine, people. Let’s mind our duties and make sure we stay that way.”
The captain looked to Ops. “Lieutenant, what’s the status of Phoenix’s shuttles?”
“The three assault shuttles are entering the atmosphere, on course for the Glanisuur camp, sir. They don’t appear to have been affected.”
He nodded. “Hail them. Let their people know what’s happened. I’ll leave it up to them whether or not they want to continue their mission or divert to Gibraltar.” Sandhurst resumed his seat in the center chair. “Move us to within transporter range of Phoenix. I want medical and engineering teams standing by in environmental suits for rescue operations.”
Plazzi stepped over to the captain’s chair to whisper as discretely as possible, “Sir, I’d strongly recommend calling those shuttles back and having them hold position in orbit. If the crews were exposed before leaving the Phoenix they could spread the viral agent to the planet’s population. We’ve no idea how virulent this pathogen is, Captain.”
Sandhurst winced almost imperceptibly, and silently admonished himself for not having thought through the problem sufficiently. “You’re right, Elisto.” He leaned forward in his chair as he called out to the Operations station. “Lieutenant, belay my last. Have Phoenix’s shuttles break off and form up with us. They are to observe quarantine protocols until further notice.”
*****
Lieutenant Jonin Faltyne piloted the shuttle Xodor through the buffeting winds of Lakesh’s upper atmosphere. He was fixated on reaching the target zone as quickly as possible, retribution foremost on his mind. The attack on the encampment had been bad enough, but now Gibraltar was telling him there had been a nearly simultaneous strike against Phoenix. The Andorian’s antennae twitched with impatience as he vectored towards the Glanisuur camp. He had projected his course to carefully avoid the region in which sensors and weapons systems had been mysteriously neutralized. He hoped to set his cargo of heavily armed security officers down at the edge of the interference, take off again and then loiter on station, utilizing the shuttle’s optical systems to direct long-range phaser fire in support of the security team.
Ensign Robards in the co-pilot’s seat emitted a grunt of surprise as a text message flashed across his monitor. “Gibraltar’s ordering us back to orbit, sir. They’re afraid we might contaminate the surface if we were exposed to whatever bio-weapon those bastards used on Phoenix.”
Faltyne hissed, “Not a chance. The snake-heads owe us blood vengeance. Don’t acknowledge the message.”
“Uh… too late. I already did, sir.”
“In that case, I’ll note in my report that you had nothing to do with this whatsoever. Hang on and enjoy the ride, Ensign.”
*****
Juneau looked back at the captain, clearly perturbed. “The lead shuttle acknowledges receipt of the message, but is refusing to comply, sir.”
Sandhurst stifled a sigh. He had been afraid of this. Given the circumstances, he’d expected some resistance from Awokou’s crew. Outright insubordination, however, was more than he would tolerate. “Put me on with them, Lieutenant.”
“Aye. Channel open, sir.”
“This is Captain Sandhurst to Phoenix shuttle squadron. You are hereby ordered to return to orbit and take up station alongside Gibraltar. If you land on the planet, you might infect countless people with whatever was introduced to the crew of the Phoenix. As much as I know you want to help your crewmates on the surface, I also know you’d never willingly endanger the lives of all those innocents.”
A moment passed. Then two. “Still no response, sir.”
Sandhurst turned to the Tactical station. “Have our security team board a shuttle and standby. I’ll relay orders shortly.” To Ops he said, “Have the transporter room begin sending emergency teams over to the Phoenix as soon as they’re ready and have Sickbay standing by for casualties. We’ll need anyone from the crew who has any kind of medical training there to assist.”
“Mister Lightner, move us into position over the Glanisuur site. Tactical, get a firing solution on those shuttles and lock targets.”
The ensign at the Tactical station blinked, clearly startled. To his credit, he complied with the alarming order without question.
Sandhurst sat back in his chair and felt a vague sense of disassociation, as if watching his actions from outside his own body. He observed himself toggle the comms. “Phoenix shuttle squadron, you will stand down or I will open fire on you. I don’t want to do this, but I won’t risk contamination of the planet’s populace.”
Dear God, please don’t make me do this, he thought desperately.
*****
Aboard the Xodor, Faltyne watched in disgust as the other two shuttles in their flight peeled off and began gaining altitude, rising to meet Gibraltar in orbit. Sandhurst was bluffing; Faltyne could hear it in his voice. If the crew of the Phoenix had been incapacitated in a matter of moments, it was obvious neither he nor the others aboard the shuttle had been infected. He refused to leave good men and women to die on the order of a man who was not half the captain Banti Awokou was.
“Ah’m thinkin’ he’s serious, El-Tee.” The feminine voice behind him belonged to Senior Chief Filkins, the assault squad leader.
“I don’t, Chief. Our people are in trouble down there, and Sandhurst has a poor grasp of the situation.” Clouds whipped past the shuttle as the craft descended into the troposphere and the gauge on his flight controls counted down the kilometers to their destination.
“Maybe so, suh, but ah’m not willin’ to bet our lives on that.”
Faltyne immediately recognized the sudden pressure against his neck as a phaser emitter. His antennae began to tick spasmodically.
“We can do this in one of two flavahs, suh,” Filkins drawled. “You can bring us back up… or ah will. Personally, ah’d like to spare you the headache.”
*****
Juneau looked up from her console as a relieved smile spread across her face. “The last shuttle has broken off and is returning to orbit, Captain.”
Sandhurst simply gave a curt nod, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to reign in the deep sigh of relief that threatened to escape him. The most immediate crisis having passed, it dawned on him that much needed to be done in the next few minutes to mitigate the damage suffered by Starfleet forces. He also realized with a hardening resolve that with Captain Awokou dead or disabled, he was now in charge.
“Ops, access Phoenix’s command codes. Route their helm control to Ensign Babbit at the auxiliary station. Mister Babbit, plot a course for Phoenix to the planet’s LaGrange point with its largest moon and execute. Helm, match the ship’s course and speed.”
Sandhurst settled into the captain’s chair. He felt for the first time since he’d assumed command that he might actually belong there.
“Sandhurst to transporter room one.”
“Transporter room one, go ahead, sir.”
“Are our rescue teams ready?”
“Yes, sir. On the pad and standing by in full EVA.”
“Energize.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. Team One is away. Team Two preparing for departure.”
“Thank you, Chief. Bridge, out.”
Juneau turned from her station to address the captain. “Sir, the security team has assembled in the shuttle bay. Master Chief Tark informs me that their pilot has been tapped for emergency medical duty in Sickbay.”
Sandhurst unconsciously rubbed at his chin, a memory tickling him with the spark of an idea. “Ensign Lightner.”
Lightner stiffened in his seat, glancing back. “Sir?”
“You were on the academy’s flight team, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. During my plebe year. The team was disbanded when the war started, Captain.”
“You’re a qualified shuttle pilot, correct?”
Lightner nodded, unable to suppress a slow grin from taking shape. “Yes, sir.”
“I have a job for you, Ensign.”
*****
Ramirez crouched next to Lar’ragos in a spot at the mouth of the gully, their position shrouded by dense undergrowth. The rest of their party had moved farther up the ravine to a location of greater relative safety.
She passed the binoculars back to the security chief. “Nothing so far. Maybe the Cardies won’t be coming.” The crackle of gunfire from the direction of Glanisuur had become progressively more sporadic and had now ceased almost entirely.
Lar’ragos grunted noncommittally and slid the optics back into a pocket of his tactical vest.
“You disagree?”
“I think that when they’re done with our people at the encampment, they’ll come looking for us. I’m not so naive as to believe nobody saw us sneak out of there. They simply had other targets of opportunity at the time… the kind that weren’t shooting back.” He gestured over his shoulder at the gully behind them. “The problem is that if we go back up in there and help doesn’t arrive promptly, we’re going to be trapped with no back door.”
Ramirez gave him a sour look. “You led us here, Lieutenant. Are you saying that was a mistake?”
Lar’ragos shook his head, “Not at all. This was our best choice for a defensible fallback position, Commander. I’m simply giving you my professional assessment of our situation. If you’d prefer I dance around throwing rose petals and declare us safe from harm…”
She cut him off and snapped, “Stow the sarcasm, Mister Lar’ragos.”
He inclined his head apologetically. “Sorry, sir. I’m just bent at having to watch our fellows butchered while we crept out of there.” He leaned back and rested against the rocks. “This war was supposed to be over.”
Ramirez’s brief flash of anger subsided and she allowed herself a moment to mourn the dead and dying. “Yeah. That’s what we get for trying to help.” She glanced at Pava’s flechette gun, now holstered. “That’s not exactly standard issue.”
Lar’ragos chuckled darkly, “Not quite.” He brushed his finger across an inert button on his still defunct phaser rifle. “I learned a long time ago not to depend on energy weapons. They’re incredibly effective, providing they work. But if they’re all you’ve got…” He let the sentiment hang as he leaned forward and picked up the projectile rifle Ramirez had liberated from the enemy. After he examined it for a moment, Lar’ragos located a small port in the butt of the rifle containing some rudimentary cleaning equipment. He removed the magazine from the rifle, ejected the round in the chamber, and began to field strip the weapon.
Ramirez scooted back and settled against the opposite side of the narrow channel as she observed him. “I don’t remember them teaching that in tactical training at the academy.”
“You wouldn’t. I picked this up in Hekosian army basic field survival.”
She frowned. “Hekosian? Never heard of them.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t expect that you had. The Hekosian Empire was in the Delta Quadrant.”
“Was?”
Lar’ragos shrugged as he scoured the barrel of the rifle with a cleaning rod. “It’s nearly four-hundred years past. Fates willing, the empire should have fallen ages ago. It‘d be no less than we deserved.”
Ramirez looked confused. “Were you a conscript?”
His laugh was a short, sardonic bark. “No, I volunteered.” He held the barrel up to the light and looked through it to examine his progress. “I’ve identified our Cardassian friend’s problem. I don’t think this rifle’s been cleaned in months. Lucky me.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but from what little I know of your people I’ve always thought El-Aurians were pacifists.”
“Peaceful, to be sure. Pacifist isn’t entirely accurate, though. Our ability to hear between the lines makes us natural negotiators; we can more easily identify the other party’s motivations. We’re simply more inclined to settle a disagreement through dialogue than force of arms. It wasn’t that my people couldn’t fight. Our abilities precluded us from having to.”
“So, how’s that explain you?”
Lar’ragos began to scrape at the receiver and worked to clear away the accumulated residue that had jammed the weapon in his favor mere hours earlier. “The Borg had just annihilated my world. Those of my people who weren’t dead or assimilated were scattered across the quadrant as refugees. I was young, stupid, and angry. I was looking for a fight, and the Hekosian Royal Armed Forces were happy to oblige me.”
Ramirez appeared thoughtful. “Did you serve long?”
“Seventeen years and four conflicts. They called them the Korsian Wars. Your basic empire building brush warfare. Encroach, infiltrate, disrupt and conquer. We were pretty good at it, too. I served with the 507th Royal Fusiliers.”
Ramirez shook her head. “Hard to imagine. I’m guessing it wasn’t the best experience for you?”
His brush fell silent and a far-away look descended across his features. “The best of times, and the worst of times. I made some incredible friendships… but we were called upon to do some terrible things.” Lar’ragos seemed to return to the here and now and shrugged wistfully. “That’s war I suppose.”
He gestured to the XO with the cleaning rod, a less than subtle attempt to change the subject. “How about you, sir? Where are you from?”
Ramirez had appeared largely unaffected by their running firefight and their present dire circumstances, but now she looked genuinely uncomfortable. “I… I grew up in the Barisa system, a stone’s throw from Tzenkethi space.”
He smiled in response, “I know the region well. I pulled a tour out there with the diplomatic corps. I should have figured you for a colonist from the provinces.”
She shook her head absently and pretended to study the rock strata Lar’ragos was leaning against. “Not a colonist, a miner.”
“Oh, really?”
“Gas mining,” Ramirez said quietly, lost in thought. “My family owns the Acheron heavy element extraction consortium. It’s been in the family for three generations. I grew up on an orbital station, surrounded by some of the toughest, hardest working people in the galaxy.”
As she spoke, Lar'ragos fell victim to his people’s unique gifts. Images suddenly flitted unbidden across his mind’s eye as Ramirez described her childhood, visions pulled from the woman's past. It was not telepathy, at least not in the way that ability was conventionally understood, though not even the El-Aurians themselves could explain the whys and wherefores of it.
He saw a gargantuan gas-giant, black as night. A distant and unavailable father, obsessed with his family’s legacy. A vain and selfish mother distracted by the trappings of wealth. An accident… a death. An embittered young woman fleeing home for Starfleet Academy at age seventeen…
Lar’ragos closed his eyes briefly to drive the angst-ridden visions out and spoke without intending to. “I’m sorry.”
Her reverie broken, Ramirez looked at him curiously. “For what?”
As Lar’ragos searched for some cogent response, both of them heard voices nearby. Guttural shouts in Cardassian, someone issuing orders by the sound of it. The universal translators in their combadges had been affected by the disruption field, so Lar’ragos couldn’t determine what was being said.
The two officers moved to crouching positions as Lar’ragos handed the binoculars to Ramirez. He quickly reassembled the rifle, loaded it and racked a round into the chamber before handing it back to the exec. He whispered, “Remember, it’s going to kick up every time you fire. I’d suggest using the single shot setting to conserve ammunition.” Lar’ragos drew his flechette gun and checked the action and propellant pressure.
Ramirez nodded, still scanning the vicinity through the high-powered optics. She whispered back, “Mister Loudmouth is ordering a grid search of the area, teams of three. Don’t know how many people he’s talking to, though.”
Lar’ragos quirked an eyebrow. She speaks spoon-head; that’s helpful, he mused appreciatively.
After she handed the binoculars back to Lar’ragos, Ramirez sighted in the rifle, “Take that non-regulation gun of yours and fall back to the others.”
He hesitated. “Commander, I’m a better choice to remain behind.”
She took aim at the head and upper torso of a Cardassian insurgent as the man pushed noisily through a copse of small trees. “We’re not having a debate, mister. Go.”
“Aye, sir.” Lar’ragos holstered his pistol and scrabbled up the dry creek bed as quietly as possible, already formulating ideas for successive lines of defense if Ramirez were to be overwhelmed.
Ramirez waited until she was certain the rebel patrol was about to stumble across the mouth of the gully. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she squeezed the trigger, accepted the recoil, switched targets and squeezed again.
*****
The shuttle Heyerdahl plummeted toward the planet; its shields glowed a bright orange-red with the accumulated heat of a high velocity atmospheric entry. In the pilot’s seat, Ensign Lightner handled the controls with a skill that belied his age. Behind him in the rear compartment was an ad-hoc security team made up of personnel from various departments with prior combat experience. Master Chief Tark, a stout Tellarite security NCO led the team. Prior to their departure, Tark had familiarized the group with the newly replicated projectile rifles and pistols. Plazzi had cautioned Tark that the effects of the null field on the surface might extend to interfering with collimated energy weapons, and so Tark had ordered these produced as a contingency. Now they loaded their weapons and prepared for a high-speed landing and tactical deployment.
Lightner called back to the team, “Two minutes!” A proximity alarm began to wail as two shoulder-launched missiles targeted on Heyerdahl flashed up from the surface within seconds of one another. Lightner smiled as he increased power to the inertial dampeners and threw the shuttle into a corkscrewing dive. The shuttle’s phasers vaporized one of the missiles just seconds from contact as the second projectile raced past and detonated well behind the wildly maneuvering craft.
Lightner observed the surface rushing up to meet them far faster than he had intended. He threw the engines into reverse and pulled up violently. The shuttle’s hull groaned in protest as the small craft flared out for a landing. The rear hatch slammed open, disgorging the now thoroughly rattled security team.
Tark gathered his wits about him and switched off the safety on his rifle. He tapped his combadge to signal Lightner. “Stay on station. We’ll be out of communication once we enter the field. We will be back with our people.”
Lightner waved vigorously in response as the cargo door closed behind them.
*****