Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow (2 page)

“Force fields are holding!” Bnira called out, her anxiety palpable as it laced her words. “But there are power fluctuations across the ship.”

The wave was subsiding, a fact Jodis could verify from instrumentation as well as his own body and ship. Outside the viewing port, he could see the expanding debris cloud steadying as maneuvering thrusters worked to retain the ship’s present position. A quick glance to the targeting scanner confirmed what he already suspected. “Engaging our withdrawal course heading,” he said, his hands moving to the helm controls on the console.

“
Jodis,”
said a new voice, filtering through the internal communications system,
“this is Ehondar. We are registering several shipwide overloads and circuit faults. None of them appear to be serious, but they will take time to repair
.
”

Before Jodis could respond to the engineer, a new alert tone sounded from the targeting scanner, and he saw that the computer-generated readout now depicted several new contacts. Thirteen red indicators had appeared at the lower edge of the screen and now were moving toward its center and the larger green icon representing the
Poklori gil dara
.

“Incoming Golvonek ships,” Bnira said, turning once more in her seat. “According to the readings, it appears to be an entire attack squadron.”

A Golvonek military response was not an unexpected development, of course. The enemy would be marshalling ships for deployment the instant their deep space scanners detected the
Poklori gil dara
. That action would only be accelerated once it became evident that the massive ship was the source of the threat communicated to the Uphrel planetary government and the moon that until moments ago had orbited the planet Copan. In fact, Jodis was surprised it had taken the Golvonek military leadership this long to send out any sort of reaction force. They now were on their way, and Jodis knew the commanders of the ships approaching them would not be swayed even by the demonstration of immense power which had just been provided.

“An entire attack squadron,” Jodis said, his gaze fixed on the targeting scanner. Though computer training scenarios had shown the
Poklori gil dara
as more than capable of fighting multiple enemy ships, the mammoth vessel’s effectiveness was impacted as the number of opponents increased. Simulated engagements against a full squadron of Golvonek combat ships had been inconclusive, with the enemy contingent winning nearly as many of those fictitious encounters as it lost. In simpler terms, there was no way to be certain that the approaching armada could be defeated.

“Prepare to cover our withdrawal,” Jodis said before keying the control to open the communications channel. “Repairs will have to wait, Ehondar. Enemy ships on attack course. Stand by for defensive action.”

2

Ehondar stared at the array of monitors and indicators filling the engineering space’s primary operations cluster, which now was conveying far too many warnings and other troublesome status reports for his liking. Positioned at the center of the raised platform that ran the length of the immense chamber, the workstation was a five-sided tower, with each side featuring identical consoles, screens, gauges, and numeric readouts. The same information was communicated on each of the tower’s sides, so that anyone working at any other station in the room, no matter where they were situated, could glean information regarding the current status of every major shipboard system. What the cluster now told him was troublesome, to say the least.

The drone of the engines was increasing as the ship changed to its new course and began to accelerate. Ehondar knew that up on the command deck, Jodis and Bnira were executing a strategic retreat. What now was required was a concerted effort on the part of the entire crew if they were to mitigate the effects of the pending attack long enough to make their final escape.

“Route power to secondary distribution network,” Ehondar called out, removing the headset that he had worn to protect his hearing from the cacophony generated by the firing of the
Poklori gil dara
’s primary weapon. The engineering area, including the operations deck and like the rest of the ship’s habitable crew spaces, had been constructed around the massive cylinder housing the antiproton particle cannon which was the vessel’s singular reason for being. Though the ferocity of the weapon’s harnessed energies could be felt throughout the entire ship, the effect was most pronounced here.

Experience and the tremor in the deck and bulkheads informed Ehondar before the cluster’s status monitors that the ship was making the shift to faster-than-light speed. Overhead lighting flickered, and a noticeable warbling in the hum of the engines accompanied the transition.

“Pulse drive engaged,” Ehondar reported as he moved to the closest of the tower’s consoles, noting from the status readings that the faster-than-light engine was performing above specifications. A review of another monitor showed that the ship was proceeding away from the Canborek system, on a circular course which—if all went according to plan—would in time return the
Poklori gil dara
to the point from which it had departed.

In a manner of speaking
, Ehondar reminded himself as he reached for the workstation. The rows of controls and switches, as with every console aboard the ship, were arranged in a manner that allowed ease of use by any member of the crew. The design scheme, developed by Ehondar and a team of technical specialists during the vessel’s construction, eschewed conventional aesthetics in favor of a sleek, simple approach that could be utilized on any workstation anywhere on the ship. This facilitated rapid cross-training and allowed any member of the crew to assume the duties of a colleague with minimal transition delays.

In response to the commands he entered to the console, Ehondar heard the drone of the ship’s main power plant as energy was redirected away from damaged conduits to backup systems. The redundancy was one of many protective measures incorporated into the vessel’s design as a means of aiding the crew to make repairs without the benefit of a dedicated facility or other support base. This made perfect sense, given the mission for which the mammoth ship had been created, and the likelihood that once deployed to carry out that assignment, there would be no one to whom Jodis and his crew could turn for help.

Assuming we survive the next few
linzatu, Ehondar mused.

“Have you seen the tactical scans?” a voice asked from behind him, and he turned to see Dlyren, his assistant engineer who also was trained to assist Bnira on the command deck with the ship’s weapons and defense systems. “An entire Golvonek attack squadron is pursuing us.”

Forcing a smile, Ehondar turned from the operations cluster. “You worry too much. This ship is bigger and stronger than anything the Golvonek can send against us. Besides, Jodis is a military commander without peer. Our enemies are doomed. They simply do not yet know it.”

Unlike the younger Raqilan, Ehondar had been involved with most of the
Poklori gil dara
’s early design and a fair portion of its actual construction. While Jodis and the rest of the crew had been immersed in their training regimens in preparation for this mission, Ehondar had worked with engineers throughout the building process, educating himself about every facet of the vessel from its basic framework to each of its onboard systems. There was precious little crammed into this ship of which he was not aware, let alone eminently qualified to operate. Aside from the Raqilan civilian and military leaders who had ordered the ship’s creation and those who had worked to realize its creation, Ehondar was the one individual most knowledgeable about the
Poklori gil dara
and everything it carried. It was this particular expertise that made him question whether the vessel might well find itself outmatched in any prolonged skirmish with a fully armed Golvonek attack squadron.

If fortune is with us, we will soon be away from here.

Another indicator flashed on the operations cluster’s status display, telling Ehondar that more power was being called to the ship’s defensive systems. The shields, though impressive, as they had protected the
Poklori gil dara
from the effects of the shock wave following the moon’s destruction, still had suffered from the stresses inflicted upon them. The generators responsible for feeding power to the shields were still operational, but now they were being pressed into further service before Ehondar and his team could inspect them. If he had any single regret about the mission he and his crewmates were undertaking, it was that despite all their training and other preparations, the truth was that the ship and those tasked with piloting and caring for it had been rushed to duty without the benefit of a proper, final acceptance exercise. Key systems remained untested, including some of the critical equipment that the crew in very short order would be entrusting with their very lives.

Can one not say that about everything else around us?

Setting aside the errant thought, Ehondar once more eyed the status monitors. He reached for the console, each of his right hand’s three long fingers moving to manipulate separate controls to shift the information being presented. One of the screens now offered a readout from the vessel’s tactical scanners, mimicking the same data the engineer knew Jodis and Bnira were receiving on the command deck.

“Routing to the secondary distribution network is complete,” Dlyren reported. “Force field generators are once again at full power.”

Ehondar nodded in approval before pressing a control to open a communications channel. “Neline and Rilajor, what is the status of the suspension cradles?”

There was a lag before Neline, the
Poklori gil dara
’s medical specialist, replied,
“Our preparations are nearly complete, but there may be a problem. The shock wave damaged one of the computer’s memory crystals.”
Her voice faded for a
linzat
as she moved away from the communications port to say something Ehondar could not hear, though the annoyance and earnestness in her tone was evident as she issued instructions to her assistant before returning her attention to him.
“I have replaced the crystal from reserve storage, but now I must update the procedures overseeing the suspension and revival process. The auxiliary storage modules were not properly revised with the most current procedures prior to our departure
.
”

Grunting in frustration, Ehondar rubbed the skin on the top of his smooth head. That oversight was one of many which had plagued the ship since its departure, though this one, at least, could be explained by the secretive nature of the mission Jodis and his crew had been given. Final determinations and instructions regarding the
Poklori gil dara
’s projected course and target of its pending mission had been protected almost until the moment of the vessel’s departure, necessitating a flurry of rushed updates to the computer to incorporate newly disseminated information. Most of the required revisions could be dealt with at a more opportune time, but those affecting the suspension cradles were of particular concern.

Time
. The single word burned in his mind.
We needed more time
. Both he and Jodis had requested sufficient opportunity to make these sorts of final adjustments. Given the mission and its parameters, time seemed the one luxury that could be afforded. Much to Ehondar’s disappointment and utter lack of surprise, Raqilan senior military leadership had disagreed with the recommendations, for reasons surpassing understanding.

“Acknowledged,” Ehondar replied into the open channel, catching himself before he could append a string of vile oaths. “Keep me informed,” he instead said, before tapping the communications control to terminate the connection.

“Ehondar,” said Dlyren, and the engineer turned to see his protégé moving to the operations cluster. Dlyren pressed a series of controls, and Ehondar watched as the data stream on another of the monitors shifted. “These readings indicate that the chronopulse drive will not be ready before the attack squadron engages us.”

“We are not helpless,” Ehondar said, allowing a hint of irritation to punctuate his reply. “Our weapons are more than sufficient to repel their attack long enough to make the transition.”

“But what of the calculations?” Dlyren pressed. “They require constant refinement, particularly if we are under way at the time of transition.”

Ehondar nodded. “I understand the variables, and the risks.” Still, Dlyren had raised a valid observation. Temporal displacement was a dangerous exercise, even when all possible safety precautions were observed. Having borne witness to the experiments conducted with automated drones as the technology was perfected, Ehondar had seen both successes and failures as the test craft were pushed mere
linzatu
into the future and retrieved for study. Those had been controlled trials, with limited parameters and posing very little danger. What the
Poklori gil dara
was about to undertake, however, was another matter altogether, and the suspension cradles were a vital part of the process. Without them, the crew—at least as far as all of the scientist and engineers who had worked to perfect the chronopulse drive had come to believe—would not survive the displacement.

“Tend to your duties,” Ehondar said, gesturing for Dlyren to return to his station. “We all have much to do if this outlandish venture is to succeed.”

All around them, the ship shuddered as though rocked by an enormous impact. Ehondar sensed the fluctuations in the gravity plating beneath his feet and lunged for his console to steady himself. Dlyren mimicked his actions, and Ehondar saw the expression of worry on the younger Raqilan’s face as the entire engineering space echoed with the whine of the engines, an objection echoed by the very frame of the ship itself.

“The pulse drive is offline!” Dlyren shouted above the new chorus of alarms which had begun wailing throughout the chamber.

“Assess damage!” Ehondar snapped, his fingers already moving across his console as he worked to ascertain the ship’s status. As before, an alarming number of indicators were flashing. Grunting in irritation, he slammed his hand down upon the control to activate the communications channel.

“Jodis! We have lost the pulse drive!”

*   *   *

Were he to ignore the information relayed to him by his console and his engineer, Jodis might almost believe that the ship was suffering no ill effects from the assault being waged against it. However, his instrumentation was providing a much different interpretation of current events.

“Can you restore the drive?” Jodis asked, still digesting Ehondar’s report.

“Not while we are
fighting the Golvonek,”
the engineer replied.
“I need power reserves that are being routed to defenses
.
”

Jodis nodded, having anticipated the answer. “Divert all efforts to readying the chronopulse drive. We will continue to repel the attack.” The Golvonek attack squadron had wasted no time engaging the
Poklori gil dara
, with each of the thirteen ships breaking off and launching independent, simultaneous strikes. Most of the initial volleys had been absorbed by the vessel’s protective force fields, but the squadron had pressed its assault and now it was beginning to tally hits that were inflicting legitimate damage.

“Force fields are wavering near the rear coolant exchange manifolds,” Bnira said. There was obvious worry in her voice, but that was the only outward sign of her growing unease. Glancing up, Jodis saw that the alert indicators on her console bathed the skin of her smooth head in a wash of blinking colors. She was keeping her focus on her own station, her hands moving across the rows of controls with purpose and determination. “And we took another strike near the weapons port at that location. The port is offline.”