ELSEWHERE
Ushalon
The waiting was the worst part.
There was nothing more for T’Ryssa Chen or her companions to do except wait, just as they had done the last time this sequence of events had played out. Along with the rest of the away team, she watched as Nelidar and the other Sidrac engineers moved between workstations, checking and rechecking instruments and status indicators. Things were different this time, and with good reason.
“Is it me,” she said, “or does everyone look more nervous this time?” Now that their presence had become accepted by the Sidrac, she and the rest of the away team were no longer confined to one corner of the observation room. Taurik and Chen had even offered to assist their hosts, but for now stood with their companions, waiting.
Nelidar, having made a circuit of the observation room to check with each of her colleagues manning a workstation, replied, “This is the first time a transition has happened so soon after a previous shift. We have no precedent for this, and it is the possible cause that is giving us our greatest concern.”
“Is there a problem?” asked Worf.
“There has been a change in the signal we are receiving from the probe at target location two. It is unlike anything we have experienced since first deploying the buoys.”
Chen frowned. “Location two? Didn’t you say that was where you detected another ship?”
“We transitioned from that point before our encounter with you, Lieutenant.” Nelidar frowned. “Our scanners alerted us to the presence of a vessel in that region as well, but it took no provocative action. We broadcast our usual warning messages, but did not receive a response before we left that dimension.”
Worf said, “If the ship in that dimension found your buoy, they may be attempting to access it in order to understand its functions.”
“And that might prove troublesome for us,” replied Nelidar. “If they somehow interfere with the signal, there is no way to know what effect that might have on Ushalon during a shift to that location.”
Standing next to Chen, Lieutenant Kirsten Cruzen said, “As if we don’t have enough problems.”
“The Romulan shuttle has landed,” reported Taurik, who had moved to stand near the male Sidrac engineer, Livak. The Vulcan was once more consulting his tricorder, taking advantage of its link to the shuttlecraft Spinrad’s more powerful sensor array. “Seven life signs. Their current position is approximately five hundred meters southwest of our position and eight hundred meters west of our shuttlecraft. I am detecting a hull breach, and at least one possible injury. Given their current circumstances, it is logical to assume they will attempt to come here, as it is the closer destination.”
Standing next to Chen, Doctor Tropp asked, “Should we not attempt to render assistance?” Along with Lieutenant Rennan Konya, the Denobulan had joined the rest of the team once it became apparent that the Sidrac were not a threat and new problems had arisen.
Worf replied, “Not until we can ascertain their intentions.” The first officer had already begun consulting with Konya and Cruzen about possible courses of action now that it appeared they were about to have company. “We must assume they will attempt to enter this habitat.”
“There are four entrances,” said Nelidar. “They can be locked, but they were not meant to withstand a forced intrusion.”
That made sense, at least to Chen. After all, Ushalon was an uninhabited planet from an unknown star system, as yet undiscovered by other spacefaring species.
Cruzen said, “Commander Taurik said their technology wasn’t as advanced as ours. Can we jam their scanners and communications with the Spinrad?”
“An interesting notion.” The Vulcan tapped a series of controls on his tricorder. “I believe that is possible.”
“I’d hold off on doing that,” said Konya. “Wait until we’re sure they’re heading in our direction and close enough that doubling back looks like a bad idea, then do it. Otherwise, they might decide to head for the shuttle and disable it.”
Worf nodded. “Good thinking.”
A deep rumbling from somewhere beneath or outside the room caused everything to tremble or rattle. Lights and consoles flickered, and a new round of alert tones sounded from various stations. Everyone, away team and Sidrac alike, looked around for the source of the tremor.
“What the hell was that?” asked Konya.
The only answer he received came in the form of another alert siren, and this time it was one Chen recognized. She turned to see Livak, the male Sidrac engineer, hovering over his control panel. His long, thin fingers moved across his instruments, and his expression was one of near panic.
“Something struck the field generator complex!” Livak did not look up from his console. “A powerful energy burst, unlike anything I have ever seen.” A moment later, he added, “Quantum readings are increasing, much faster than expected. Another shift is imminent!”
Taurik said, “The Romulan ship fired on the complex.” His report was calm and matter-of-fact, but Chen heard the barest trace of concern in the Vulcan’s voice. “It is no longer employing its cloaking device, and I am detecting an energy signature consistent with the disruptor cannons of a Vas Hatham–class warship.”
“Why the hell would they fire for no reason?” asked Konya.
Chen replied, “They wouldn’t. Could they be trying to stop the next shift?”
“Possibly,” said Taurik, “but without more information, I am unable to formulate a hypothesis.”
“Is there any damage?” Nelidar had directed the question to Livak, but he was looking both to her own people and Taurik for possible answers.
“Aside from some disruption of the surrounding soil and bedrock, I am detecting no obvious damage to the structure itself.” Taurik paused, looking up from his tricorder. “If the field generator is itself trapped in a state of dimensional flux, it may have been protected. However, scans are showing significant disruption of the quantum field itse—”
The rest of the engineer’s report was drowned out by the return of the alert klaxon, just as Chen felt the first rush of sound in her ears at the same time blinding light washed across her vision. Colors faded as the room around her began to bend and twist, and she thought she caught sight of Rennan Konya reaching for her. His arm seemed to stretch as it drew closer, and for an instant she saw his expression of worry.
Then the light consumed everything.
ELSEWHERE
ChR Bloodied Talon
Sparks flew from the environmental control console as yet another overload coursed through the bridge, and the stench of burned circuitry assaulted Sarith’s nostrils. Without need for instruction, Centurion N’tovek deactivated the console and initiated a fire suppression protocol. The station’s functions were not critical and could be ported to other consoles, and the crew was well trained in such procedures, but that was the least of her problems now.
“Quantum fluctuations are spiking,” reported Darjil from the sensor station. “The readings are consistent with a dimensional shift. Commander, if we remain in such proximity to the planet, we may be in grave danger.”
“Break orbit.” Sarith moved to the helm station at the bridge’s central hub. On the console’s display screen, she could see the planet beginning to waver and stretch as it had on the previous occasions they had witnessed its vanishing, only this time it was happening while her vessel was much too close for her comfort. “Alert the N’minecci and the Jarax to retreat to safe distance.”
Prall, the centurion manning the helm, reported, “Something is preventing us from maneuvering, Commander. It is not a tractor beam, but the effect is similar.”
“Diverting emergency power to the impulse engines and our deflector shields,” said Ineti. The subcommander had pushed aside the centurion manning the secondary helm console and had taken the controls himself. With practiced ease, the elder Romulan keyed the necessary instructions and Sarith felt the trembling from the ship’s depths as the Talon answered his commands. Even with the added power, experience and instinct told her something was wrong.
Ineti confirmed her suspicions. “We are at full power and unable to break orbit.” The subcommander looked away from the helm controls “I am routing power from the warp engines, but there is no change.”
“Can we engage the warp engines?” Sarith knew the risks of such a dangerous maneuver, both to her ship and even to the planet below, but time and options were dwindling.
“The elevated quantum fluctuations are preventing us from establishing a subspace field. Deflector shield generator output is already exceeding tolerance levels and is blocking but a portion of the quantum energy interference.” Ineti input more commands to the console, before shaking his head. “There is nothing more we can do.”
Turning from the weapons station, N’tovek said, “The escort vessels are reporting similar difficulties, Commander. We could fire on the complex again. Perhaps a more concentrated bombardment.”
“It would require us to divert power from our propulsion or shields.”
Sarith asked, “Are we being pulled toward the planet?”
After consulting one of his instrument panels, N’tovek replied, “No, Commander. The effect is more disruptive in nature. If we were able to block or stop the source of the interference, we would be free of its effects.”
Another alarm sounded in the confined space, and Ineti moved to silence it. “Our engines are beginning to overheat. If we do not reduce power or break free, they may incur more damage than our engineers can repair.”
Before Sarith could answer, the entire ship shuddered around them, protesting as though forced to endure a withering attack. Several of the bridge consoles went dark as the main lighting failed, replaced by emergency illumination that flared to life from points around the room. Then everything around her seemed to spin or bend, and a wave of vertigo washed over her. Reaching for the nearest console to steady herself, she felt Ineti’s hand on her arm. She tried to say something but what sounded like a torrent of rain or wind flooded her ears, and she winced at the sudden onslaught. Light pushed in from the edges of her vision, and the dizziness that had come without warning threatened to overwhelm her.
What is happ—
ELSEWHERE
U.S.S. Enterprise-D
“Red alert!”
Riker shouted the command just as the entire ship seemed to heave beneath his feet. All around him, the other bridge officers clambered to hold on to anything to anchor themselves to chair or consoles as the Enterprise’s inertial damping system struggled to compensate with the abrupt disruption. The main lighting failed, dousing the bridge in near darkness for the seconds it took emergency illumination to activate. Gripping the back of the conn officer’s chair was the only thing that saved Riker from being thrown to the deck. For the briefest of instants he sensed the artificial gravity wavering, the change channeling through his body and making his stomach lurch.
“Quantum energy readings are off the scale!” reported Wesley Crusher from the conn seat. “Much more powerful than anything we’ve seen so far.”
“Pull us back,” ordered Riker. “I want some extra distance.”
Crusher replied, “I’m trying, Captain, but engines aren’t responding.”
“We are experiencing system overloads across the ship,” reported Data from his seat next to Riker’s command chair. “Backup systems are being enabled.”
The buffeting the Enterprise was enduring in response to the planet’s unexpected arrival was beginning to ebb, leaving only a slew of alert indicators sounding across the bridge. Glancing behind him, Riker saw a number of illuminated status indicators flashing on the rear workstations, including far too many from the engineering console. Similar warnings were displayed on Worf’s ops panel.
Riker pulled down on his uniform jacket as he stepped back from Wesley’s chair. Turning around, he caught sight of Deanna sitting in her usual place next to the captain’s chair. Her expression communicated her discomfort.
“You all right?” he asked.
Nodding, she replied, “The crew’s emotions are running high right now.”
“Tell me about it.” Riker was sensitive to her empathic abilities, of course, and knew that in the face of the unknown situation they were in, it was a natural reaction to be uncertain if not afraid. Deanna would pick up most of that, he knew, particularly from the people here on the bridge.
Looking to Data, Riker said, “Damage report.”
“Updates are still coming in, sir,” replied the first officer. “There are a large number of power relays that have suffered overloads. Damage control teams are responding.”
At the back of the bridge, Geordi La Forge called out, “I’ve already got my people rerouting critical systems, Captain, but there’s a lot to go through.” As though emphasizing his point, the bridge’s main lighting flickered back to life.
“What the hell happened?” asked Riker. “I thought you said we could anticipate its arrival?” He paused, catching sight of the dead gray world that now was centered on the bridge’s main viewscreen. Though it had erupted into existence, to him it still appeared enveloped by the effects of the transitional shift.
Data replied, “Unknown, sir. There was a brief surge in the buoy’s broadcast signal just before the planet’s arrival that was inconsistent with anything recorded by our sensors or extracted from the buoy’s own communications log.”
“The readings aren’t dissipating,” said Crusher. He looked up from his console, confused. “Quantum energy levels are holding steady. It’s like the planet’s stuck.” He tapped several controls. “Helm is still unresponsive. We’re holding position, but I can’t get us to move.”
“Geordi?” prompted Riker.
“Working on it, Captain.” There was no mistaking the irritation in the engineer’s voice. “The quantum fluctuations are really doing a number on us.”
“Pull power from wherever you have to, but get us some breathing room.” Riker turned to see La Forge bent over the engineering console, with Data ascending the ramp to lend assistance.
“It’s not a question of power, sir. At least, not just by itself. The quantum energy around us is disrupting our systems’ ability to distribute it. I’m trying to modulate our shields to compensate, but even that’s giving me fits.”
“Captain,” said Tasha Yar from the tactical station, “I’m picking up additional vessels in orbit around the planet.”
Frowning, Riker turned to the security chief. “What? From where?”
Yar shook her head. “I don’t know, sir. They were just . . . there. Sensors are still trying to sort it all out.” Riker was already moving in her direction when she added, “I’ve got a lock on one of the ships, sir. It’s . . . it’s Romulan.”
That was enough to make everyone look up from their stations, and Riker almost froze in midstep as he climbed the ramp toward her. He caught himself and made his way to stand beside her, eyeing the sensor readings now displayed upon her console.
“Are you sure?”
Yar scowled. “That’s just it, sir. Sensors say it’s Romulan, but an older class of ship. A much older class, as in more than a century out of date.” She tapped another series of controls. “The other two ships look to be Romulan too, and all three have sustained minor damage.”
“What the hell are Romulan ships doing here?” asked La Forge, dividing his attention between his own work and Riker and Yar. “We’re nowhere near Romulan space.”
“And how did they get here without our noticing them?” asked Riker. “Could the nebula have disguised their approach?”
Shaking her head, Yar replied, “I just don’t see how, sir. Our sensors weren’t that compromised, and if these readings are right, that ship is a century old, with cloaking technology to match. We should’ve seen them coming light-years away.”
Another mystery, Riker mused. Just what we need right now.
“How are our shields?” he asked.
“Thirty-six percent.” Yar glanced over her shoulder. “Engineering’s still working on rerouting power to compensate for various overloads.”
Without waiting for further prompting, La Forge said, “We’re on it, but there are more overloads than I have people to fix them. We’re going to need—”
The rest of his reply was cut off by the ship shuddering around them for a second time. Looking up from the tactical station, Riker saw the planet displayed on the main viewscreen, apparently still caught in the midst of the dimensional shift, beginning to quiver again, and he was sure the planet was faded enough for him to see through it to the rest of the nebula and the partially obscured stars behind it.
“It’s happening again!” said Crusher.
Data added, “Quantum energy readings are intensifying as before. A dimensional shift is imminent.”
From the ops station, Worf called, “Routing emergency power to the shields.”
The extra effort seemed to do nothing to alleviate the pounding the Enterprise was forced to absorb as a renewed wave of unleashed energy collided against the starship’s deflector shields. Riker had just enough time to grab on to the railing before everything rocked to starboard, and he felt himself collide with Yar. The security chief had one hand locked on the railing above her station and had anchored her knee beneath the console to maintain her balance.
“Remind me to ask for a chair up here,” she said.
Ignoring her remark, Riker ordered, “Conn, get us out of here!”
His hands moving across his instruments, Crusher shook his head. “I can’t break us free, Captain. Helm is not responding!”
When the lights faded this time, they remained out, and backup illumination was even slower to respond. Warning tones erupted from every console on the bridge as the deck disappeared from beneath Riker’s feet, and he felt himself slam chest first into the railing. Yar’s valiant effort to maintain her footing failed her as well, and he saw the lieutenant thrown over her station and down to the chairs in the command area. She landed hard and clumsily, and Riker heard her cry of pain even as Data and Deanna pushed themselves from their chairs to help her.
“Shields are failing!” reported La Forge.
He started to say something else, but Riker could not hear him over the sound of rushing air that assaulted his ears. In front of him, Worf and Crusher along with the front of the bridge seemed to stretch away from him, and everything was bathed in a blinding white light. Riker reached up to shield his eyes, waiting for the effect to pass, but it only strengthened to the point that he thought he might pass out from the sensory overload.
And then . . .