Stardate:18603.9
USS Pike, Excelsior Class: .
All hands: .
Last Known Coordinates: 10300-13013-12036, .
"Cartha Octos..." Captain Bryan Jerome Holt read with quiet consideration. The name sent a shiver of irrational fear down his spine. "Great. Just what we need."
"Wha's thet, sir?"
Holt looked from the conference table's holograph to the USS Valiant's second in command with crisp, blue eyes. The captain felt every bit the forty-six years that was his age, his comfortably handsome face masking near-consternation, and his demeanor feigning the usual ease. "Rather, what we don't need, Chris." Holt swiveled the holo-viewer about so his number one could see. "The Pike's gone missing. She was last reported in the Void of Cartha Octos."
Christopher Garrett let breath a low whistle. The Void -- as the media referred to it -- had plastered the subspace nets in sensationalized headlines for the last six months, ever since the sudden disappearance of a small fleet of Federation citizen commercial ships in that large, uncharacteristically empty sector of space. Cartha Octos, the group of eight inhabited systems on the far side of the Void, had been trading with the Federation for the past year.
Hedging the edge of explored space, not much was known about the Cartha Octos republic, other than their aptitude for superstition. The Cartha no longer traveled through the Void themselves -- they said it had a long history of "devouring star-faring vessels", and warned the Federation to steer clear of what the Cartha called "The Hungry Waters." Federation civilian traders hadn't put much stock in what they considered "voodoo rantings", and instead of wasting precious time and fuel to circumvent the Void, trader ships regularly stole through the heart of the starless space. The Federation Counsel wasn't any more inclined to "supernatural folklore" than were the traders, reasoning any dangers in the void were undoubtedly the result of something scientifically tangible -- such as a massive black hole cluster -- and not some hungry predator whispered about over tribal campfires and in ancient Cartha texts. In diplomatic respect to the Cartha, and to curb any possible future disappearances, the Counsel ordered the Void off limits to all civilian vessels. Two days later, they sent the Starfleet ship USS Pike to investigate, with priority orders to retrieve the civilians and their vessels if possible, and secondary instructions to map the Void.
To keep imaginations and panic to a minimum (and, Holt suspected, to fluster the ever-aggressive and flamboyant news media), Admiral Hikaru Sulu had classified all of the Pike's reports indefinitely. The Valiant's navigator -- Sulu's daughter, Demora -- had barely hid a smile when she heard that, and then collaborated Holt's initial suspicions about the Admiral's action, saying, "Dad never did like what he called 'warp-space gossip'. Said it 'undermined the fabric of reality'."
Holt's attention wandered back to the flashing red letters at the bottom of the document page: To Captain, Valiant : Eyes Only. To secure the logs to this degree meant there must be more at stake than Holt initially surmised.
None of the civilian ships had turned up in the Void, and now the Pike was missing as well. Holt rubbed a temple, as though it might fend off some of the tension he was feeling; it felt like someone was boring a hole through his brain with a low intensity laser drill. "This isn't good. This really isn't good."
"You got that raught," Garrett said gravely. With Chris Garrett's pronounced Australian accent, Holt expected a "mate" at the end of every other sentence; very rarely did Garrett oblige. Chris studied the communique', noting the list of log books. He knew only one reason why the Valiant would be sent the full classified logs of the Pike; a search and rescue mission. "Hea I wuz sheduled foa shore leave on Thebes IV in two days."
Bryan couldn't help grinning at the weight in Garrett's voice. "We'll just have to mull along without you, Commander."
"Are ya kiddin'?" Garrett shot back. "I'm yer good luck charm, Cap'n." Pointing for emphasis. "You need me."
Holt choked down a laugh. Garrett always had a way of lightening most any situation, a credit to his command abilities. Starfleet considered Holt's second in command something of a maverick; his long sandy hair was just barely regulation, and the way his maroon uniform fell on his body looked more becoming to an Old West cowboy than a Starfleet officer.
Despite appearances, Holt knew that Garrett had the most stubborn sense of duty that Starfleet would ever see; the commander would have his leave postponed if he had to stay up all night arguing with his captain to make it so. In fact, stubborn described the commander to a tee.
The captain tapped the tabletop's deep wood finish with the edge of his PADD. "Thank you, Commander. Tell Patty and Rachel I'm sorry to keep their man away from house and home for even longer. I'll make it up to them with a tour of the ship when we return." If we return, a silent thought nagged.
Chris grinned this time, an image of his ten-year-old daughter with his reluctant wife in tow entering the bridge of a starship traipsing through his mind. "Rachel'll luv that - she already hus plans to become a captain, ya know."
Holt raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Sheesh, you'll be lucky if ya git the con back!"
Holt hit the com set in the desktop. "Commander Sulu, change course setting for the Void of Cartha Octos. Transmitting coordinates now." "Aye, sir," Demora's voice responded smoothly.
"Number One, a little light reading," Holt offered a PADD with the classified Pike logs to Garrett.
"Sir?" Garrett asked, hesitant to take the PADD containing information he wasn't cleared for.
"We're going into a potentially hazardous situation. These logs might hold some clue as to what's really out there waiting," Bryan explained. "I want an off-the-record briefing for all willing senior officers at 2100. If anyone asks, you never saw these logs. That stands for everyone at the briefing."
Garrett now wore what his wife Patty called his 'my hand's in the cookie jar and no one's looking' grin. "Und'rstood, sir."
"Dismissed."
Captain A.J. Mallone looked bored. He tried to sit tall in the center seat, but there was a slouch to his spine these days, and one might think the captain was praying for something -- anything -- to happen just to break up the monotony. Charting empty space was a lot like counting clouds on a cloudless day -- there wasn't much interesting to report or to look at where you were watching, and you really wanted to find something more captivating to look at, which would constitute just about anything.
"Report," Mallone said dully.
A pained expression crossed the science officer's face. "On course and schedule, Captain."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Falco," Mallone droned, not bothering these days to glance over at the woman at sciences -- there wasn't need to check up on her, she knew her job well, and he didn't need to look to know the expression she wore -- and had worn every time her captain asked for updates for the last four months. Mallone started from his seat. "I'll be in my --"
A klaxon blared to life, and startled the helmsman, who nearly jumped out of his seat. Mallone retook the command chair, back straight and alert. God, it felt good to hear those klaxons -- even if it turned out to be a false alarm. "Report!"
"Scanning an unknown energy form."
"It's up ahead," helm reported.
"Captain," Falco at sciences called with more than a little urgency, "the energy is in a cohesive state of flux that suggests it's...alive."
The bridge shook. "What the hell?"
The helmsman's eyes widened. "Holy Mother of God!"
"Shields!" thundered Mallone.
The bridge rocked harder this time. Sparks flew from several stations, smoke rolled from the engineering consoles, then fire consumed the picture of the Pike's bridge on the holo-viewer.
"Thet there's the last security log entry." Garrett paced around the command officers assembled in the Valiant's senior conference room. All of them had consented to the unofficial briefing and had stayed; Holt never doubted any of them would. The holograph receded into the dark cherry tabletop, and the lights raised an intensity setting, further defining the elegant conference room adjacent to the bridge. "We just managed gettin' that 'cause Falco activated a hyper-transmit data-dump befoa transmitt'rs cut."
"We don't know what we might be facing here," Holt picked up. "Ten years as a security chief taught me two things; always watch your back, and always be prepared for the unknown." He leaned forward over the table, nodding his head for Garrett to stop pacing and sit down. "Starfleet classified these logs for a reason. I think they knew from the beginning there was more going on out there than they let on. I contacted Admiral Sulu at Starfleet."
His eyes idled briefly where Demora sat on his right -- she had served under Bryan for five years now, and she was every bit the proud and disciplined officer that her father was. It felt like a lifetime ago that Holt himself had served under Hikaru Sulu onboard the Excelsior; in fact, it was eighteen years -- not considered a lifetime by human standards. Eighteen years, and two more years since David had perished on Jupiter Science One. Twenty years... So much had happened since then. So much he wished he could tell David.
It wasn't even conscious, the way Bryan measured time from the fixed point of David Ryan's death. It wasn't that he was still mourning the passing of the one man whom he could say was the man he wanted to share the entire rest of his life with. There was no bitterness, there was no denial (Are you sure on this point? part of his mind would sometimes ask), it was simply a turning point in Holt's life. After he lost David, Holt re-focused his ambitions to career goals, and became a Starfleet captain faster than any other captain had managed. It was the logical move, Holt told himself; after all, what he and David had shared came only once in a lifetime. Holt cherished those memories, and knew he couldn't expect to find such a perfect soul mate again. It was okay; he had possessed for a few years what some people never found in all of their lifetime. Now he had achieved a position in Starfleet that few people climbed to, as well; his life was shaping up to be a full one, and he would not complain about the imperfections of existence when he felt lucky to have the positive experiences he had to recollect.
"The Admiral informed me Starfleet sent the USS Discovery to investigate the Pike's disappearance two days ago. Contact with the Discovery was lost at 0200 this morning." Holt chose his next words carefully in the stricken silence that followed. "Admiral Sulu indicated that there may be more to the Cartha Octos legends than Starfleet wants to believe."
Demora raised a surprised brow, but remained attentive.
"Are you suggesting there's actually some supernatural devourer of ships out there?" the Valiant's chief medical officer, Doctor Ivalia Targrazella, couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That old 'here there be dragons' line might have worked fine for uncharted territories back when you humans were charting the oceans of Earth, but I don't buy it out here in space."
"The only thing I'm suggesting is that we stay alert, and be prepared for anything -- even if it offends our personal sensibilities," Holt told the Orien woman. He still found it fascinating how she could be a full head of steam one moment, and the next become as mellow as a cat on a lazy afternoon. But then, it made sense when one considered her turbulent past.
"Starfleet's lost two ships already, and caun't afford ta lose any moa." Garrett sat back in his seat, observing the faces of his ranking officers in turn. "We're to pr'ceed wi' the utmost caution."
"None of us knows what's really out there in the Void. That's exactly why I decided to share the sparse details we do have, classified or not. We need to prepare, and part of that is being aware of any details -- no matter how seemingly insignificant -- that may hold the key to our survival. I've served with you all long enough to know I can trust you with this information, and I believe you have the right to know what we don't know, given the circumstances."
"That's reassuring," Chief Engineer Argos piped up from across the table. Sidney always had a wisecrack balanced on the brink of her tongue, but those who worked with the wheelchair-bound engineering prodigy knew her gruff exterior housed within her a heart of gold. Some of the engineering crew had initially made the mistake of being mislead by Sid's pretty strawberries and cream appearance; she had quickly put them in their places. "I'll tell you right now if anyone out there tries messing with my engines, I'll sick TOBY on them."
TOBY was the virtual reality probe that Sidney Argos controlled remotely, which allowed her -- after a manner -- to work alongside the other engineers in any space aboard the Valiant -- and in many places where mere flesh-and-blood officers couldn't go. Argos had created the cat-like manipulator probe herself. She had dubbed it Trisensory Orthopedic Biomechanical Yeoman, TOBY, not so much because it gave a pretty good description of the equipment it labeled (in fact, the probe sent feedback to all five senses, as had been invariably pointed out -- to which Argos would on each occasion repeat a dismissive comment about details and what's in a name).
In fact, the name was a tribute to her childhood cat and confidant back on Earth, who died prematurely when he was hit by a land rover. Some of the crew joked that Argos had a stash of catnip mice she secretly offered TOBY when no one was watching, but even those crew members had come to think of the device as a fellow officer. Several of the senior officers hid smiles at the engineer's warning about what would become of engine saboteurs.
"Don'tcha worry, Sid," Garrett said with an outright grin. "Naw sane pers'n would dare mess wi' your engines."
"Have you worked all the bugs out of the new phasers yet?"
"Not yet, Captain," Argos answered factually. "If all goes well, they'll be ready within half a day. If not, a day at the most."
"Very good." Holt noticed his science officer fidgeting in his seat. "You have something on your mind, Mr. Williamson?"
"Yes Captain. I'd like to point out that not everyone shares the good Doctor's viewpoints on the supernatural," the Lt. Commander commented, returning to an earlier thread of the conversation. "As a science officer, I suspect that we may never have the means to expose the inner workings of all the universe; you know the old adage that cites every answer uncovers ten new questions. To casually dismiss the possibility of a supernatural being out there -- something beyond science's ability to define, or that in fact defines science -- might be a bit hasty, don't you think? I mean, there are still those people like myself who believe that God created an order to the Universe that humankind has labeled 'science,' and not that humans have created a spiritual order to the Universe named God."
"Though unsubstantiated, I suppose it isn't out of the question, Del," Doctor Targrazella allowed.
"Thank you, Doctor," Williamson managed a smile that hid his irritation at the Orien. Sometimes he suspected Targrazella flourished in debating his Christian viewpoints, though he never forced the issue with her. He respected her as an accomplished doctor, and she respected him in turn as an excellent science officer, but there always remained a certain friction on the personal level.
"Commander Williamson is right." This, a deep and sensual throaty voice, came from Lt. Commander Tio'chuk. Tio'chuk was an imposing figure even while sitting -- the lion-like features of his feline race, the Rargathians, a stark contrast to his human shipmates. Piercing gold eyes, sharp white incisors, and shaggy mottled mane made for a very intimidating picture, which suited the head of security just fine. But like so many appearances in life, Tio'chuk's deceptively foretold of violence and aggression. Truth be known, his was a passionate people, more concerned with love and spirituality than war and technologies. What had brought Tio'chuk to become a security officer on a Starfleet vessel remained a mystery even to his shipmates, but he certainly had a talent for the job. "What is out there could be something beyond our technological capabilities to handle. We should be prepared to try communication first."
"Humanoids." This voice, by contrast, was high and reedy. "You be so much concern by past and future, how you exist in present makes volumes of wonder. The Tij be in a place in thought and mind, and we work well this way."
Garrett raised his brows in a 'told you so' manner.
"Your recommendations are all duly noted," the captain broke in. "Communication is our goal, should we find ourselves dealing with any intelligent life forms.
"We will sustain a yellow alert status upon entering the Cartha Octos Void. Unless there is anything else?" Holt took in his command crew with one rapid glance. "Very well, then. Dismissed."
Holt turned in his seat, staring out in quiet at the twinkling lights dusting the abysmal night of space. Deep in thought, he didn't even hear the shuffling of his senior staff filing out. The conference room's door swished closed, but Holt knew not everyone had left. He didn't have to turn to know who it was that remained sitting in her seat. It wasn't that he had any special senses that told him such things; he simply knew his people, and could predict actions by his familiarity with the elementary telltales of their physical stance. "What is it, Demora?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." Her voice held concern for her commanding officer and friend, and a sureness that told she expected nothing less than the truth. The truth her friend and captain had withheld.
Holt let out a sigh and faced her. He wasn't irritated, and knew that as a captain he could just order her to her assignment, but he didn't operate that way without good reason, at least not with Demora. The forty-three year old woman had proven herself to him time and again, and sometimes she had a better idea of when her captain needed to talk than he himself did. "I'm concerned about this mission. Two Federation ships missing already. We're going in blind... I don't like it."
"You've faced more prickly situations, sir," Demora returned. Holt could almost feel her dark eyes penetrating his own with that same steadfast purpose by which she did everything. "There's something more, isn't there? Something... special about this mission...?"
Holt met Demora's eyes. The words came slowly at first, then more easily. "My dad was assigned to the Discovery . It seems his extensive skills in communications and first-contact situations made him a great candidate for the job." Bryan shook his head, looking at the reflection of the passing stars in a picture glass on the wall. "He's missing with all the rest of them, and I'm beginning to feel a sense of dŽjˆ vu about this whole thing."
Demora inclined her head, her soft, raven hair spilling over her shoulders. "I don't understand."
Holt's eyes focused on something distant, something that lay beyond the confines of this place and time. "It was a long time ago. There was an accident on Jupiter, and I lost someone close to me."
"David?"
Holt shook his head wordlessly. The image of the station crashing in around him couldn't have been more real if he were there right now. The suppressed feelings of panic and helplessness that he so loathed more than anything else had returned, and this time it was his father that might be the one to perish. His father, and the lives of over five hundred other people... He could feel them hanging in the balance, and the weight threatened to drown him; he continued only by the sheer will of repressing those emotions which didn't serve his actions well. Slowly, as if waking from a nightmare, his eyes re-focused on the conference room around him. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder if I did all I could have. Maybe if I had done something different, David -- and all the others who perished there -- would still be alive today."
"My father commanded that rescue effort on Jupiter twenty years ago," Demora reminded him. Her voice became so certain during such discourse, even her questions sounded more like fact than query. "He did all that he could to save those people. He always gives his best, and you do too. No one can ask for more than that."
Elbows on desk, steepled fingers, Holt didn't look convinced. He spoke quietly, his worry apparent. "Well, this time I'm the one in command. I only hope my best is good enough to save them."
The USS Valiant sailed through the night with swift grace, her newly rebuilt engines alight with a brilliant cyan warp reaction. The crown jewel of modern Federation technology, the modified Excelsior class vessel fell short of spectacular by comparison to the staggering intensity of dimension that defined the final frontier. The spectrum-trailing stars of warp speed passed from their distant vantage points, the Valiant now a mere minutes from the edge of the Void. All was quiet out here in the vacuum of space and time. The forever silent continuum engulfed the starship in its shawl of solar winds.
An airlock opened on the port side of the vessel.
Something emerged. It climbed skillfully to the top of the saucer section, then bound quickly across the NCC-2027 painted in Starfleet bold across the curvature of the hull. It stopped abruptly, its glowing green visor seemed to consider the subspace pocket extended around the ship that protected it from being torn off the hull plates and lost somewhere between warp and space. Then it continued a little further on its graceful silver legs. It stopped again, this time between the upper starboard and forward phaser arrays. It cocked its head, considered both arrays for a time, then pounced in the direction of the starboard one.
"TOBY's in position. Saturate the primary emitter."
"Aye, ma'm." An ensign leaned over the engineering console next to Argos, here in the somewhat muted light of the engineering chief's office. Jabbing some controls, the young man stimulated the phaser emitter per his orders. "Holding at point five."
"New arc entered. Adjusting interpolation values." Argos looked engrossed into a face plate that extended up and over from one side of her wheelchair, her hands manipulating the hyperlink gloves that allowed her to effect the phaser adjustments outside the ship via her mechanical counterpart. This was one of those times when TOBY allowed her to execute ship adjustments that couldn't otherwise have been done under the circumstances; the probe was much more agile than a human being, and had magnetic pads on the underside of each "paw" that made exterior work on the ship during warp speeds possible. "Okay, great, we're done. I'm bringing TOBY back in.
"You can tell the Captain that he can now safely use the upper phaser arrays without having to worry about accidentally blowing off the bridge."
Red warning lights flashed to life throughout engineering, and a computer voice began droning "Intruder -- Alert!"
Argos secured TOBY against the side of the saucer section, and turned from her face plate monitors. "What the hell?"
A tall, black humanoid with stark, pupil-less white eyes and almost reptilian snout materialized outside the office in main engineering, too close to the matter-antimatter reaction core for Argos' comfort. The intruder wore what appeared to be some sort of light, flexible body armor splashed in vertical striped shades of orange, yellow, and black, a thick belt encircling his (Argos guessed it was a male of whatever species this was -- assuming they even had males) slim, high hips. An ornate helmet of jewels crowned him, long strings of heavy ebony metallic beads cascaded from the top, falling on his broad, bare shoulders like dreadlocks. One of his bony, claw-ended hands manipulated some sort of device grafted right into the skin (if skin is the correct word, Argos thought) of his left forearm. It watched her with unblinking eyes.
The chief engineer reflexively hit a control on her wheelchair's right armrest. "Security to engineering. We have an intruder."
END OF INSTALLMENT ONE
Send comment to: McCoy LH@aol.com.
Posted 7/23/95
To Shadow Worlds: Second Installment