Star Trek - TNG - 62 - Maximum Warp Book One Page 3

  Gravity restored, Sub-Commander Folan was able to easily step to her commander's side. "You accepted the Enterprise's proposition more rapidly than I expected."

  J'emery smiled. "Yes, I did. But Picard is too gullible to see that. We have enough power for disrupters?"

  Folan nodded, her superior's treachery now clear. "Yes, Commander. Two short bursts."

  "Excellent. One for Picard's shuttle, another for Enterprise herself. And they are without shields...." His eyes a bit gleeful, J'emery pounded his fist lightly on the arm of his command chair. "With Picard gone, and the Enterprise further disabled, the Praetor will have a nice prize when we return home."

  "If I may, Commander," Folan said. "This is directly against current Senate policy with regard to Federation vessels. As well, I believe the Enterprise is truly offering a means of escape for us both. I've gone over their data--"

  "Science is your strength, Folan, but tactics are not. You are as gullible as Picard."

  Folan pursed her lips and stifled a retort that would

  not serve her well. She had long tired of hearing she was just a science officer and not a Romulan military officer in full. There were other ways to serve the Empire and the Romulan people, she thought. That such ways were deemed unimportant was foolhardy and... well, it annoyed her. "How else might we restore our powerless systems?"

  "Even without communications from us, we will be missed. In a day, at the most, a ship will be searching for us," J'emery said, dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand.

  "I fear life support will not last that long, Commander. Especially if we divert battery power to the weapons array."

  J'emery turned directly toward her as he rose from his seat. "You have your orders, Folan. When Picard is halfway here, destroy his shuttle. Then target the Enterprise and disable their remaining systems."

  A shuttle, dragging with thrusters only--without shields, without weapons, without much of anything but life support and a crawling speed. There were tests like this at the Academy, Picard thought, boring little exercises about running in minimal power under adverse circumstances. This was why. What they didn't train him for was the frustration of being a starship captain who was used to riding a stallion, and now had to suffer on the back of a mule.

  All this for one cargo vessel that had strayed off course... perhaps. There was no firm data on the cargo hauler. It was out of sensor range, out of visual

  range ... Picard only hoped the ship was undamaged and recoverable.

  He thumbed a panel. "Picard to Enterprise."

  "Shapiro here, sir."

  "Patch me into the Romulan vessel, Ensign." "Aye, sir." Fernery's stern features appeared on Picard's small viewscreen. "Captain?" The Romulan's tone had a bitter edge, and his expression was that of someone who'd tasted wine gone to vinegar.

  "Since we'll need all available power for your tractor beams, I'd rather dock manually. Is that acceptable to you?"

  The Romulan smiled an odd little smile. "That will be acceptable, Captain Picard. Very."

  The screen went blank.

  "Lock disrupters on target," J'emery ordered.

  The weapons officer shook his head. "Target lock unavailable, Commander. Sensors hampered, unknown cause."

  J'emery frowned. "Manual target," he spat. "And don't miss."

  Folan had never been fond of J'emery, but he was being especially mush-headed today, she thought. She didn't trust Picard fully, but she knew the science of what he proposed, and the science was sound.

  Of course, there was no scientific explanation for all that had happened to their respective ships. At least not yet.

  She ran the power-consumption projections again.

  There might be enough power for life support, but all that depended on when another ship would arrive. As it was, they had another forty-three minutes of life support. If they crowded the crew into a common area and shut down all other systems, maybe that would give them two days. Maybe. And that was only if they didn't use any of their weapons. Command or not, J'emery's was a fool's decision.

  Really, Picard's plan was the only foreseeable way. Each ship would be able to tractor the other, using one another as a mass with which to propel the opposite ship out of the ... "power desert," for lack of a better term. The Enterprise would pull the Makluan past itself, flinging the Romulan warbird out of the desert, and the Makluan would do the same for Enterprise, propelling the Federation ship out in the opposite direction. Without the power of the other ship, no one ship would be able to escape alone.

  Her commander was blind to it, though. And so what could she do but sit and watch? In moments Picard would be dead and their chance would be lost. He brought with him the power coupling that would allow battery power to be transferred to the tractor beams. All battery power... meaning that if this didn't work, there'd be nothing left for life support, let alone weapons.

  Yes, it was all a risk. But... the science worked. The plan would work. It had to.

  Folan's eyes lingered on the weapon's control console. She could bleed away the power from here, make it become lost in the system. With all that's happened, it would be a mystery. No one would be blamed.

  Her fingers brushed the panel.

  It would be so easy.

  She glanced at J'emery, and then at the weapons officer across the bridge.

  Mutiny. Treason. She could be put to death for this, slowly.

  Or... she could not do it, and likely asphyxiate with her crew. Loyal, but dead.

  Those were her choices now: ardent but extinct, or disloyal and perhaps ... well, perhaps still dead.

  She chose.

  "Fire," J'emery ordered.

  "Yes, Commander. We--Sir, I don't have power." The weapons officer was incredulous, of course. Not only had Folan put her own life at risk, but his as well. If J'emery blamed the weapons officer... Commander J'emery said nothing. Yet, if focused, his glare alone could have destroyed Picard's shuttle.

  "Welcome the captain aboard when he docks, and see that he's treated with respect," the commander growled to Folan. "I want him guarded at all times," he added, then turned to the weapons officer. "You're reduced a step in rank and confined to your quarters. Dismissed." He turned to Folan. "SubCommander!"

  Nervously, she stepped forward. Did he know?

  "Why?" he demanded. "I want to know why. And you're going to find out. How did this happen to the power? And when we know who to blame, I will deal with them personally."

  "Yes, Commander."

  "Find out, quickly," he barked.

  Folan nodded, then breathed a sigh of relief as she left the bridge. She'd gotten away with a crime most high, and had perhaps slipped her neck out of a very confining noose. For now, she thought, and suppressed a shudder. Only for now.

  It hadn't taken as long as Picard expected. Romulan technology was different, but not too different in the area of tractor beams and power conduits. Within thirty minutes he was on the Romulan bridge, meeting J'emery face to face. Folan, the science officer and the person who'd supervised Picard's work and aided him at times as well, had been distant, if civil. She'd complimented his plan, although he was sure to explain that, while it was his idea, the details of implementation belonged to his chief engineer. She'd nodded rather coldly at the time, but seemed to appreciate his humility. But now, on the bridge, she seemed even more detached.

  "We're ready when you are," Riker said, his image shaky and static-peppered on the Romulan main view screen.

  Picard looked to Folan, who nodded. J'emery seemed curious, anxious. He expected a trick of some kind, no doubt.

  "We are ready, Commander," Folan told J'emery.

  "Fine. Initiate at will."

  There was a brief countdown and then a crackling noise as the Romulan vessel shook around them.

  "We are moving," Folan said, apparently a bit

  surprised. "Enterprise is drawing us toward them, and they toward us."

  Slowly at first, but gaining speed as
they went, the warbird and Enterprise moved toward each other, pulling one another closer and closer until they veered apart, pushing off and away.

  But the tractor beams drained the last bit of power. The Romulan viewscreen went dark first. Then the control consoles. Then the lights.

  The din of Romulan crew voices was too fast for the universal translator to handle. Picard turned in the dark on an unfamiliar bridge and thought he bumped into a guardrail, or perhaps a guard.

  Then the lights returned, as did the hum of the control circuits and panels.

  The captain had bumped into Folan, who was hunched over her now-active console.

  "It has worked," she said, more animated than Picard had heard her until then. "We are clear of the dead zone and power is returning to normal output levels. Batteries are recharging. Enterprise is clear as well. Sensors are online."

  Picard's lips curled up just a touch. "Thank you for your help. We couldn't have done this without your keen knowledge."

  "You have no idea," Folan said, straightening, her eyes striking out toward him, lingering a moment, then looking quickly down.

  Picard furrowed his brows. There was something in her tone, in that look... something that sold the idea that Picard was in her debt, and not the other way around.

  "Thank you, Captain," J'emery said. "But we still have the matter of this treaty violation, since the new treaties have not been registered yet in our official records--"

  He motioned for his guards.

  "I'm sure," Picard said, "that will be handled in the upper echelons of the diplomatic services, Commander." He tapped his comm badge. "Picard to Enterprise. Beam me out."

  A familiar hum filled the air.

  "Wait, Captain--" J'emery demanded.

  Too late. Picard dematerialized in a wash of sparkle and light.

  "He plotted that! Deceitful, manipulative Terrans!"

  Folan bent over her console again. "They've also beamed out their shuttle." Inwardly, she smiled. Pi card did trust, but neither was he a fool. Had the situation been reversed, she might have done the same.

  J'emery was furious. There was little to substantiate holding Picard or Enterprise, but he'd have done it anyway, just to see if he could learn anything new about the Federation ship or her crew.

  Folan could see in her commander's eyes that he wanted to fire on Enterprise. She considered counseling him against it. Or for it. Whatever might put her in his good graces. Of course, she was but his science officer and not a military advisor, so no recommendation would go without punishment.

  She stayed silent, as did J'emery, fuming.

  Picard materialized on his own bridge. "Status report, Number One."

  "Power is back on all levels, sir, as if someone flipped a switch. Batteries are recharging."

  "Excellent."

  "We aim to please." Riker smiled and vacated the command chair.

  "Can we get a sensor lock on the cargo ship?" The captain lowered himself into his command chair. "We need to find a way to haul--"

  "Captain," Chamberlain said, "I can barely read the cargo vessel, sir, but..." He paused.

  "Lieutenant? " Eyes darting up, Picard watched the viewer as the drifting form of the cargo hauler appeared on the screen.

  "No life-signs, sir. No power."

  "Heat output--"

  "Negative, sir."

  Picard shared a glance with Riker, then with Troi.

  No heat No Me. Probably hadn't been for some time.

  The captain rose. "All dead. In the dead zone," Pi card murmured.

  Now Riker stood. "The what?"

  Dead zone. It was what Folan had called it. And it fit. Phasers, disrupters ... none of their most powerful technology worked there. Not even life support, once batteries had drained. A hole in physics you couldn't drive a starship through.

  "How many people ..." Picard began to ask, but the actual number was almost meaningless. One was

  enough. He almost didn't want to know how many more than one had been lost.

  What he did want to know, more than anything, was why.

  And the answer sat in the middle of unreachable, dead space.

  Chapter Four

  Federation Star-ship Exeter Alpha Quadrant Unexplored sector

  Nineteen days ago

  "where's that auxiliary power?" Captain James Venes anxiously scratched the back of his neck as he made his way down toward the command chair. "Aux power's not responding. Batteries only, sir." "Is Ortiz in Engineering yet? What's going on down there?" The captain thumbed a button on the command chair, but did not lower himself into the seat. "Venes to Engineering. We've lost helm control now, people."

  "Ortiz, here, sir. I can't explain it. There's no reason --"

  "I don't need a reason, Alvaro, I just need power before we lose life support. Batteries won't last long with all these refugees on board."

  Venes heard his engineer breathe out a slight sigh. "Aye, sir."

  "Hey, if anyone can lick this problem, it's you. Let me know when you have something. Venes out" The small pep talk seemed un inspirational even desperate. The captain knew it, but there just wasn't much to say. His people knew their jobs, and they'd do them for duty, not kudos.

  Finally setting himself into the command chair, Venes tried to relax his body, if not his mind. He couldn't. He was getting too old for this, he chided himself. Too old for deep space and mystery. Too old for refugees and missions away from Jenny. Too old to die because someone forgot to pay his starship's electric bill.

  "Send out a log buoy," he ordered finally. "And let's make sure our passengers don't panic, but see if we can cram them into some more confined accommodations. Crew, too. Conserve as much energy as possible." He hit the intercom again. At least that was still working. For now. "Engineering."

  "Alvaro, what about other sources of battery power on the ship?"

  "Other sources, sir?" "Yeah. Batteries from shuttles, runabouts, whatever."

  There was a brief pause as Ortiz considered it. "Yes, sir. Will take some doing, but we can rig that up. Won't buy us a lot of time, but some."

  "Take the batteries from the escape pods, too, Alvaro."

  A much longer pause. Venes thought his engineer might be considering confirming the order.

  "We don't even have enough pods, with all the refugees on board. Might as well do all we can to save the ship."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Venes out."

  "Sir?" said the ops officer. "Decks seven and eight have lost all power."

  Venes almost sighed, but decided against it. "Understood," he said finally. It was one thing to lose power when under attack, but such a sudden loss of functionality Sure, he told his engineer he didn't care what had caused it, but of course he did care, since that would tell them how to fix it and keep it from happening again. He hoped.

  In the back of his mind he remembered something similar happening just a day or two ago. He hadn't read the full report, just skimmed it because he was tired. If the computers were working, he'd simply call it up, but no such luck today. Rubbing his temple thoughtfully, Venes searched his memory a long moment, then recalled a detail or two.

  "Enterprise," he murmured, but remembering did him little good. He did seem to recall something about needing two ships to solve the problem, and so he was short one vessel for such work.

  The lights dimmed, and the captain thought perhaps he was short more than one ship. Perhaps he needed help from two.

  They'd try to come up with some other alternative. They'd do everything possible to find some answer... but something told Venes that there was little to do now but wait... either for help to arrive, or for death.

  Personal Spacecraft R'laga Jacaria system--Romulan space Orbiting Moon of Jacaria VII

  "Are you sure?" T'sart asked again. Rarely did he show such an imperfection as shock. But he was shocked, and if Loire saw it... well, he would be the only one T'sart would trust to witness his faults.

  "I am sure," Lotre
said. "Varnell was a member of the Tal Shiar... and we killed him." The Klingon smoothed the traditional Romulan tunic that stretched over his broad shoulders.

  We. Even in these harsh times, Lotre was loyal. The Praetor and the Senate were not. T'sart seethed with hatred, for them and for the dead Tal Shiar spy.

  "Poor timing," T'sart said finally as he paced the meager length of the small ship. Four bulkheads, one room, two days on this blasted ship. He was used to a bedroom this large. He hated being confined, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves.

  "Had he had time to fully encrypt his last message to them, we might never have known. I'd say your timing was impeccable, as always." Lotre tucked a padd into a case and put it on the deck as T'sart paced past it. "Knowing that the Tal Shiar will be after you for killing

  their operative, are you sure you want to follow through with this plan?"

  Stopping, a brief smile passing his lips, T'sart asked, "Are you afraid of the Tal Shiar?"

  Lotre was grim. "I'm afraid that you are not."

  "We continue with my plans," T'sart said, "with just a few deviations."

  The Klingon of Romulan upbringing waited, and when T'sart said no more, he prodded him. "And those are?"

  "Well, the best way for the Tal Shiar to not waste resources on me ... is for them to think me dead."

  "But you won't be dead."

  "Perish the thought," T'sart said with a smile.

  Romulan Homeworld

  City of Chaladra

  Two blacks off Tatar Street

  Seventeen days ago

  If there was anything T'sart liked less than a blindly loyal Romulan, it was a foolishly disloyal one. That's why he didn't mind if the boy died slowly. He preferred it, even, getting a certain satisfaction from the suffering. Especially considering all the trouble T'sart had had to put up with: an area of the city he would not usually go, the moist heat he hated so much in this province, and the type of people he had to deal with in order to remain generally unseen.

  "And now, my youthful friend, die," T'sart whispered

  as the boy, perhaps all of thirty-five years, withered out of his grip and slid down the stone wall.

  "But... I told you and ... you said you--"