"Destruct sequence initiated. Warp core overload in one minute."
The USS Valiant's computer voice -- calm and factual as always -- had never sent such a frigid chill through Bryan Holt's body as it did with those words. The Valiant's captain sat forward tabbing his chair comm and feeling a momentary wave of irrational deja vu. "Argos, what the hell is going on down there?"
"One moment, Captain," the chief engineer's voice clipped back.
"Clear the bridge," Captain Holt ordered. "Garrett and Tio'chuk, with me."
Following security protocol, Delany Williamson, Deebzug Traab, and Demora Sulu exited the bridge into one turbolift, the rest of the bridge crew filing into the second lift.
"Computer, acknowledge Holt, Bryan Jerome, Captain, USS Valiant," Holt spoke to thin air as he grabbed the bridge railing and jumped it to meet his first officer already at the security console with Tio'chuk. His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper.
"Initiating thirty-second countdown, mark."
Again, the feeling of repetition wafted through Holt's mind. Strange he should experience such a feeling now, he thought, with no memories to connect it to. A heartbeat passed, and Holt thought the computer had ignored his command.
"Holt, Bryan Jerome, Captain, USS Valiant, acknowledged."
Garrett and Tio'chuk made way for Holt at the security console. The captain leaned over the controls. "Disable destruct sequence."
"Please stand by for retina scan." A deep, red light flickered on the console, probing Holt's right eye. "Awaiting authorization codes."
"...28, 27, 26..."
Tio'Chuk's voice came quick and succinctly. "Recognize, Tio'Chuk, Security Officer, USS Valiant."
"...23, 22, 21..."
"Identity confirmed," the computer announced.
"Security code Delta-five-five-five-seven-nine-nine." Tio'chuk moved over to allow Garrett access.
"...18, 17, 16..."
"Rec'gnize, Garrett, Christopher D., first officer," Garrett said quickly, trying to keep his Australian drawl to a minimum. He didn't bother to wait for computer confirmation -- there wasn't time. "Security code Alpha-one- two-one-zero-zero-zero."
"...13, 12, 11..."
"Awaiting final authorization code for dest-"
"Recognize," Holt interrupted brusquely with no time to spare, "Security code Apha-zero-zero-zero-stop-zero-zero."
"...8, 7, 6..."
"Final code recognized. Computer override. Destruct sequence can not be disengaged."
"...2, 1 -"
**********
Admiral Hikaru Sulu, Commander In Chief of Starfleet, stepped onto the vessel's deck. It had been a long time since he'd been aboard, too long.
"Welcome aboard the Excelsior, Admiral," Masoud Valtane greeted, his face as somber as a certain Enterprise science officer's. Had Sulu not been so worried about Demora, he would have grinned at his old comrade, who hadn't changed so much in the last ten years -- thank the Fates for small blessings. Masoud was a little leaner, the beard he had worn for a while was gone now, but the mustache remained, as it always had. Valtane, human though he was by species, had always seemed to have more in common with the logic-oriented desert dwellers of the planet Vulcan.
"Good to be aboard, Captain," Sulu returned to the man. Hikaru would liked to have sat down and caught up with Masoud, maybe talk about old times for a while, but time was precisely what he was racing against. Again, not something as tangible or concrete as knowing with his mind; the shadow that had fallen over the Admiral right before he learned his daughter Demora was missing wasn't rational, it was more basic. It was instinct, and he trusted it.
Sulu started to a turbolift, Masoud taking long strides to keep up with the older man. "We've received our orders, sir, but I'm still not sure why you're here."
Sulu grimaced inwardly. He hated to do this -- to get Valtane involved. But Hikaru needed Valtane, trusted him, and knew the crew had logged more hours facing the unknown than any other ship currently in Starfleet's service.
"I have new orders for you."
Valtane's eyes probed Sulu with curiosity, but the captain remained quiet. A silent dialogue seemed to pass between the two, and then Masoud's eyes filled with understanding and consent to serve his former captain, despite how "official" these new orders might be.
"I won't risk the ship or crew," Sulu said in confidence. "All I'll need is a shuttle craft once we get to the Void."
Was that nostalgia that momentarily crossed Valtane's rugged features?
"As good as done, Admiral."
The Void of Cartha Octos stretched out into the cosmic midnight, cold, desolate, and foreboding. A lone ship drifted in the darkness, fending off the chilly solar winds with the brilliant, sky-blue glow of twin warp nacelles. Then, the new state-of-the-art engines dimmed, and died. Night closed in.
***********
Sidney Argos' heart raced, and she broke out into a cold sweat. Utter darkness surrounded her (My eyes must be closed -- what a way to die, cowering in my consciousness), this single moment -- this single frame in time -- nearly frozen at a slow trickle of passing lifetime and new lucidity.
Her mind waited for the warp core breach to engulf her, and she relived every moment of her life -- recalled every detail and every sweet breath -- at warp ten speed. The rush of experiences, emotions, people and places that filled her lifetime overcame her senses, bittersweet days gone by. At the end of the ride through yesterday, she saw life in a perspective she had never quite noticed before. There had been so much care to details, so many moments caught in the technicality of existence, so many times she had been so wrapped up in herself and her own problems that she had simply forgotten how to let go and live. And at the end of all this there was Demora Sulu, the woman who had taught her how to live again, and how to love.
A pang of regret stabbed at Sidney Argos. She wished she had told Demora that she loved her just a little more often. How long had it been since the words had been uttered? Demora said it often enough, but Sidney had always had a problem getting the words out, and always seemed to manage getting around saying it herself with a "Ditto" or "Likewise" response; it just wasn't in some people's personalities to go around telling people "I love you," even when love was felt more deeply than the words could convey. Sidney had always been of the mind that love was something you show by being there for a person and making sacrifices, not through words or sexual activities. Yet here she was feeling guilty over not saying three little words that should have been simple enough, especially considering all the other work she had put into the relationship. Somehow actually saying it made Sid feel absurd. No, absurd wasn't right. Vulnerable. Something she felt all her life, sitting in that cursed wheelchair. Vulnerable. Yet she had accomplished more in her thirty-eight years of life than most people did in eighty.
It all came back to the facade. The tough exterior she had learned to project at a very young age; her way of dealing with the common ignorance held by others that just because she couldn't walk she was more fragile a person. The biggest irony of all -- nearly all of the people she had dealt with for any length of time in her life had treated her no differently than anyone else; she was a valued Starfleet officer, comrade, and friend to many people, and had touched the lives of many more in positive ways through her service and technical achievements. The stigma had been more a product of her self-image, a personal insecurity that she had created herself and tricked herself into believing came from other people. Some of the greatest people in history had been dealt a tougher hand than her -- Stephen Hawking of Earth, Kagari of Kronos, and Tolus of Vulcan to name a few. Sidney felt the bonds of self breaking free, those chains that had kept her and many people before her from achieving true happiness. She let herself float in this new perspective.
Demora loved her, and knew that Sid returned that love. Sidney forgave herself of her own shortcomings, and imagined she could even feel her spirit reaching out to Demora in these final moments of life. The warp core shattered the darkness with pulsating light. Sidney held her breath, waiting to meet eternity.
**********
"The living's in the way we die."
The words that came to Bryan Jerome Holt in that expansive moment in eternity made so much sense right then. They were from an obscure ancient Earth pop song performed by an even-then obscure rock band named simply "A-ha". Holt had heard the song while growing up -- during one of the "getting to know the universal language of music" sessions with his father. The line had stuck in Bryan's head along with myriad other verses and musical passages esoteric to musique connoisseurs. Though he couldn't remember the source of the line as he stood on the bridge of the Valiant facing his death, his interpretation of it ran as clear as water, and the irony was what death showed him.
Bryan Holt had already died.
Twenty years ago.
On Jupiter Science One.
With David.
Bryan Holt had grieved when his soul-mate, David Ryan, died on the imploding Federation science station. Bryan had grieved hard -- he hadn't felt so much grief since his mother had died so many years before. And although he hadn't realized it in all the years that followed, Bryan Holt had raised a force field around his heart so that he would never love again -- so that he would never feel such acute pain again. Sure, there were the range of middle emotions, but how alive was someone that couldn't experience the wonder of love? How alive could someone be if they never felt the sting of pain, the passion of life? Those who gave themselves over to the numbness were also victims of death -- no better than hollow-husk zombies, fated to fall claim to motivations of revenge or bitterness, or only to empty wanderings.
Not that Starfleet didn't have any meaning to Holt; it did, and he had excelled in his career. But what profit, life with no passion?
You have your friends, dammit! Holt chastised himself. But while this was true -- his shipmates were important to him -- how close was he really to any of them? He felt himself maintaining a cautious detachment even with Demora, whom he was closer to than anyone else he knew. Demora knew him well, even had some intuited sense of what her captain was usually feeling. But even though he would open up to her with words, the emotions behind the words always remained locked up in his heart -- even when he was alone, inaccessible. Shouldn't such boundaries be more lax among friends -- and more so with self? You're a Starfleet captain -- you knew when you were promoted that a captain must maintain professional distance to be effective, and can't go around indulging his own feelings. But Holt knew he had gone to the extreme, and found himself unconvinced. He was hiding behind the captaincy. Hiding from himself, from his life. From love. In hiding from pain he had lost everything else. And now, as he faced his mortality, he found himself longing to feel fear or regret or pain or anything to indicate his soul hadn't completely given in to apathy.
He felt nothing.
You failed to find the missing Starfleet ships. You failed to find your father.
A silent pang -- a distant echo of regret and sorrow -- flittered through the void within Bryan Holt. He grabbed it, holding it and cherishing it, discovering that sometimes feeling even pain was better than feeling nothing. In dying, he had discovered he still lived... a little.
**********
It had been the break Marc Stagg was waiting for. Knowing he probably wouldn't get another chance, he had run with it. Stagg had no doubt the Vulcan captain of the Federation ship Discovery (what was her name? T'Ru?) was dead by now. But the diversion she had unintentionally created provided opportunity, which fortune hunters like Stagg knew how to spot a warp-year away.
Stagg had taken three others with him -- he would need them to operate his ship's weapon systems should they be detected.
Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach as he thought about what the aliens had done to his shipmate and companion, Jess. On top of injury the aliens had added insult, and implemented Stagg's ship as a personnel shuttle to ferry people back and forth from the processing plants to "The Garden," and whenever any of the humans had outlived their usefulness, Stagg's ship took them on a one-way trip to the "Feeding Zone".
With the swarm-creatures out pursuing the Vulcan woman, the security of the Black Star -- Stagg's ship -- had been left in the hands of the "Overseers". Retaking his ship hadn't been easy; two Federation men had died in the revolt, but Stagg had his ship back.
The stars out the cockpit canopy became spectral blurs as the vessel went to warp. Stagg reclined in his seat, swiveling to face his guests. They all watched him with unwavering eyes; two men and a woman. All Starfleet. "Will you stop acting like you're facing a general court-martial, and relax?"
"How can you relax?" one of the Starfleet men asked. "You know that once they detect us -"
"They won't," Stagg interrupted with certainty.
"How can you be so sure?"
The younger Starfleet man pointed to a console. "He has a cloak."
"A Cloak?" This time it was the woman. "Where the hell did you get a cloak, bounty-hunter?"
"Woe, hold on there, Starfleet," Stagg put his hands up. "First, I'm not a bounty hunter. I'm a procurator of rare and sought-after items -"
"And people," one of the men interrupted.
"- and this cloaking device is saving your uppity assets," Stagg finished with a glare.
"Okay," the third officer granted. "Then if you're so sure they can't penetrate your cloak, how did you end up down there in the first place?"
"A fair question," Stagg admitted, though not happily. "I got careless. It just so happens I didn't believe all the rumors about space dragons frequenting this sector. I didn't have the cloak engaged, and before I knew it, I found myself staring face to face with rumor. They're quick."
"Which means we don't have much time," the woman picked up. "Set course to Starbase twenty-six. We have to warn Starfleet."
"Aye aye, Captain," Stagg retorted with sarcasm. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're not on a Starfleet ship. This is my ship."
"And if you don't want it commandeered, you'll listen to the woman," the older male officer -- a lieutenant commander by rank insignia -- threatened. "We would be well within our rights. Don't try telling me you don't know the possession of a cloaking device by a Federation civilian is illegal."
Stagg grinned, shaking his head. "'Federation civilian', now there's an interesting term." Marc saw the woman -- a commander by rank -- start to get up, and added hastily, "The course is already laid in. I may not like Starfleet much, but I'm no fool; I know what's in my own best interests."
He winked at the Commander. "We bounty-hunters have a certain knack at that."
The Commander's dark eyes bore into Stagg, humorless. He was around her age, thirty-something, but there was a vitality about him that she found both appealing and annoying at once. He lacked discipline, and the maturity that came with commitment. "I thought you said you weren't a bounty-hunter."
Stagg shrugged. "It's only a part-time job."
A proximity alarm went off, and Stagg spun to face his console. The Starfleet officers assumed positions at the copilot and weapons consoles.
"Damn," Stagg muttered. "We have company." He hit some controls. "I'm killing the engines."
"No!" the Commander ordered. "Are you insane?"
The Black Star's engines died, and the Commander pulled her captured phaser on Stagg, only to find herself looking down the business end of Stagg's own recently-acquired phaser.
Their eyes locked, both of them sure and unflinching.
"Stalemate, Commander. You shoot and we both die."
"Traitor," the Commander spat. Her finger tensed on the phaser's trigger. She would die, but that was inconsequential; Stagg couldn't kill all three of them. As long as one of them was left to pilot the shuttle, there was hope of notifying Starfleet.
She fired.
**********
"Test complete. Computer override concluded."
Bryan Holt looked at the security screen, feeling dazed but gathering his wits quickly. He found his voice and barked a request. "Computer, status report on ship systems."
"Ship systems functioning within normal parameters."
Keeping his mental fingers crossed, Holt tried engineering. "Argos, report."
Sidney Argos' voice filtered through the bridge speakers, sounding shaken but competent nonetheless. "Everything's fine down here." Her voice took on a frustrated edge, and again Holt had a feeling that he had been through this before. "There's no trace that anything ever went wrong here, Captain."
"Perfoam a lev'l one diagnostic," Garrett ordered from beside Holt. "We nee'ta know whut the 'ell happened, Argos."
"Already on it," Argos replied.
Holt turned to his lion-like security chief. "Tio'chuk, go through all the security logs. See if you can find any evidence of remote interference or system scans, and have some security people monitor computer activity. If they witness as much as a glitch, I want it reported."
"Aye, sir."
Tio'chuk reclaimed his console, Holt and Garrett walking to the conn.
"Chris, call a senior staff meeting to meet in the conference room in one hour. And get the bridge crew back up here."
"Aye, Cap'n."
Holt stared at the main bridge viewer, watching the twinkling of the distant stars -- further away and fainter from this vantage point in the Void of Cartha Octos than anywhere else in space he had been. The sensation of repetition grew stronger, and he had a very bad feeling that something even more unpleasant was about to happen. His senses screamed for him to leave this place, but he was duty-bound to carry out his mission -- and he would.
Or he would die trying.
**********
NCC-2000 sped through Federation space at best warp, headed toward the Void of Cartha Octos. The ship bearing the name Excelsior had been through a lot during her service, including two major skirmishes with the Klingons, four with the Romulans, two peace treaties, seventeen first- contacts, and three ship refits. Now, the vessel approached the sunset of her legendary days and the end of a significant chapter in the history of humankind. But while her months of service were now numbered, Captain Valtane knew his ship had carved her place in time.
Janice Rand had had the fortune of serving on two legendary ships in her days of service to Starfleet; the Enterprise, and presently the Excelsior. And if she had her way, she would make it three before retirement; Commander Rand was up for a promotion, and she had her eye on the USS Coronado. She had served under three of Starfleet's finest captains, and the time had come for her to sit in the center seat. One of those captains she had served under sat across from her in the Excelsior's observation lounge now. "Word is you're looking to captain the Coronado, Rand."
"Yes, sir."
Sulu smiled, recalling the thrill of command the first time he took the USS Excelsior out of Space Dock. "She's a good ship. You'll make a fine captain, Janice."
"Thank you," Rand responded, picking up on the use of her first name and falling into a familiar repertoire. "But that's not what I'm here about, sir."
Sulu raised his brows expectantly, and Rand ventured on. "Sir, the whole crew knows about your missing daughter, and in all honesty, we aren't prepared to send you off to face the unknown alone."
Sulu looked thoughtful a moment, then started to protest. "Janice, I'm not-"
"Forgive me, sir," Rand interrupted, "but you didn't let me finish. We're not prepared to send you out there into the Void alone, but the crew has volunteered to go in with you. The ship is at your disposal."
"It is not my intention to put anyone at risk except myself," Sulu said firmly. "We've lost several ships out there already -- Starfleet can't afford to lose more."
"With all due respect, Admiral, Starfleet can't afford to lose it's Commander In Chief," Rand persisted.
"I'm a month from retirement, Janice."
Rand remained quiet in the silence that followed.
"We both know how much I hate that prospect." Sulu gazed out the portholes at space. "When you're out there where things are happening, you take it for granted. You think it will last forever, that risks are to be thrived upon. But then time passes, you get older. When you see an old man or woman sitting in a park or outside some housing facility on Earth, you never imagine that one day that will be you. That one day, someone else will be taking the risks, and that you'll be left behind, fearing for her safety. And then one day comes."
"Sir, we're doing all we can to find your daughter and the crews of the missing ships," Rand sympathized.
"It's not enough," Sulu said abruptly. "There's no reason why I can't help. I have years of experience, and finding a loved-one is a good motivater. I haven't outlived my usefulness yet."
"It's not about that, Hikaru," Rand insisted, "And you know it. It's about being concerned for a friend."
"If you want to help, let me do this alone," Sulu replied more calmly. "I have no qualms with growing old, no qualms with dying; these are natural parts of our existence. But I haven't the time or patience to wait for death, and if a daughter of mine is in trouble, I only have the right to risk my own life to save her."
"Captain Valtane said you would say something like that." Janice held out her hand and pressed something into Sulu's.
"What's this?" Sulu turned the object over in his hands. It looked like a Starfleet insignia medal, but was heavier and slightly larger than standard.
"It's experimental. It's a communicator badge," Rand explained.
"A communicator badge?" Sulu echoed curiously. "Sorry, I haven't been keeping up on some of the technical advances lately."
"Wear it in place of your regular badge," Rand explained. "It's patched directly into the Excelsior's communications systems; if you're within standard hailing distance, all you need to do to communicate is touch the Starfleet emblem and speak like you normally would."
"Hmmph," Sulu marveled. "What will they think of next? Dilithium re- crystallization?"
Rand grinned. "They're working on it."
**********
The phaser beam grazed Marc Stagg's right shoulder as he dove to the Black Star's deck, dodging.
"Don't move!" the Starfleet woman ordered, hiding her amazement that Stagg hadn't fired back at her -- she didn't have the time to wonder about the fortune hunter's motives now.
"You have no idea how tired I am of being shot at," Stagg grimaced, not sure which arm to rub -- the one that smashed the deck or the one that took the phaser hit.
"Stockwell, take the helm," the Commander ordered quickly. "We may still be able to outrun them."
She reached for Stagg's phaser.
"Damn you -- you're gonna get us all killed!"
Stagg moved to get up, and the Commander shoved her phaser in his face. His words came in a desperate rush. "Listen to me -- the cloak is still activated. They may have detected our warp signature -- if we shut up and make like a black hole until they pass, we might have a chance. You try outrunnin' 'em, and we're gonna wind up real dead-like."
"He's right, Commander Neiss," the younger Starfleet man started.
"While I was on the Virginia we managed to detect a Romulan ship in warp. They dropped to sublight, and we lost them."
Neiss stuck her phaser in her belt, but kept a wary eye on Stagg.
"Alright. Kill all systems except minimal life-support and passive sensors. The less we give them to scan, the better."
The lights flickered to blackness, and Stagg exhaled in relief. The darkness of space thickened in the small bridge, and the only thing Stagg could hear was the beating of his own heart.
Outside in the inky blackness of space, something swam the void with swift purpose. It stopped, it's alien senses perplexed. Something wasn't right. Where had it's prey gone? Hiding somewhere, but where?
The creature spread its sensors, hovering in the darkness. They couldn't hide forever. It would wait. And when it felt a vibration of light or movement, it would claim its prize in one swift strike.
A vibration of subspace displacement lightly struck one of it's sensitive probes. Curious -- they were headed right toward it. A trick?
More likely, they were surrendering.
Too late. The hunger would only be filled by the consummation of their souls; that was the penalty for transgression, the reward of the fool.
Commander Neiss watched the Black Star's main sensor screen in horror. Her voice came barely audible. "My god... A Federation starship."
"The alien is on a direct intercept course," Stockwell reported, his voice tense. "They don't see it yet."
"We've got to warn them!" The younger Starfleet man started for the communications console.
Neiss grabbed him by the shoulder. "No, Sutton. We can't."
Sutton stared at the commander in shock. "But it will be on them in minutes!"
Neiss exchanged a quick glance with Stockwell and Stagg. "We can't afford to give away our position. Warning Starfleet is our top priority, and we can't do that if that -- thing -- out there finds us."
"But it will kill them -- or worse yet, capture them!"
Neiss squared her shoulders, willing herself to keep her composure. "I know."
**********
"Mother Universe!" Tio'chuk whispered.
Holt heard the exclamation, his eyes already on the main bridge viewer. His breath caught in his throat.
Space rippled, impossibly and expansively, as though it had suddenly become an immense ocean, measured in hundreds of light years instead of hundreds of kilometers. And as it rippled, new stars -- close stars -- sprang into existence. The cosmos seemed to be re-configuring themselves right before Holt's eyes; he felt a wave of nausea.
The heavens shone with new light, one star a mere light-minutes away, and an impression struck Bryan Holt. An impression accompanied by four words, words that he knew he had heard before, yet -- impossibly -- was just as sure he hadn't -- at least not in this lifetime.
Beware the Shadow Worlds.
Something moved in the darkness between the stars. Bryan Holt stood on the Valiant's deck, taking two steps to the viewscreen, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing -- as though taking a closer look would bring sense back into this impossible picture. But as impossible as it was, he knew what he was seeing, and knew without a doubt that somehow, the warnings of the Cartha had been right: Here there be dragons.
END OF INSTALLMENT FOUR
Posted 11/27/95
Part 5 Coming in December!
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