Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow (33 page)

When this is all over, somebody at the Department of Temporal Investigations is going to have an aneurysm
.

“It is time,” Jodis said. “Bnira, execute the new course.”

It might have been Chen’s imagination, but she was certain she felt the
Arrow
groan in protest as the ship changed its trajectory to assume its new heading. “How much time?”

“Less than ten
linzatu
. If we leave now, that should be sufficient time to abandon ship.”

Chen made the calculation and conversion in her head. They had just over six minutes before the
Arrow
completed its descent from orbit and plummeted into the lunar surface. It would be close, but if they ran full out, they should be able to get to the landing bay with time to spare. “Did you get that,
Enterpris
e
?”

“Affirmative,”
replied Commander Worf.
“Proceed to the extraction point, Lieutenant
.
”

“Aye, sir.” No sooner had she replied than Chen saw another alert flash on her console, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw what was happening. “Damn it!”

“
What is it, Lieutenant?”
asked Picard.

Biting back the growing need to utter profanities or punch something, Chen said, “It’s the contingency protocol, sir. It’s trying to infiltrate the propulsion and navigation systems.”

“Navigation control just deleted the coordinates,” Bnira added, hunched once more over her console. “I need to enter them again.”

Jodis said, “It will do no good.” He pointed to another monitor, the one Chen recognized as displaying the current status of the propulsion and navigation systems. “The protocol is attempting to circumvent the remote guidance systems. Without that, the ship will not maintain course to target.”

“You’re saying it could abort?” Cruzen asked.

“Possibly,” Jodis replied. “It might even be able to prevent the crash.” He turned from the workstation, his gaze locking with hers. “The process must be overseen manually.”

It took an extra second for the implications of his statement to register, and when it did Chen felt her mouth drop open. “Wait. You can’t . . . ?”

“There is no other option,” Bnira said, turning to Jodis. “We will need to stay.”

Jodis pointed for the door. “But you must go. Bnira and I can do this.”

“What about getting off the ship?” Cruzen asked.

“Once we are certain the process cannot be aborted,” Jodis replied, “we will follow you to the landing bay, but we cannot ask you to remain. You have already done enough, and this is our responsibility.” He reached over and placed a hand on Chen’s shoulder. “Like your captain, you are of noble character. If all of your people are of similar quality, then the Raqilan and Golvonek have made exceptional new friends today.”

There was a finality to his words that made Chen uneasy, and she felt moisture forming at the corners of her eyes. “Jodis,” she began.

“It is time,” he replied, his voice quiet as he nodded toward the door. “Go.”

33

On the viewscreen was perhaps one of the most surreal scenes to which Picard had ever borne witness. Angled toward the Landorem moon, the
Arrow
was accelerating as it began its descent. Its massive aft engines glowed white with the energy they produced to send the weapon ship to its doom. Picard imagined the image as similar to that of a foundering oceangoing vessel, its bow disappearing beneath the waves as its stern rose into the air before the entire ship slipped into a watery grave.

“Time to impact?”

“Four minutes twenty seconds at its current rate of acceleration,” reported Worf. The first officer had moved from the tactical console and resumed his normal station in the seat to the right of Picard’s command chair. “Sir, the main shuttlebay reports that the
Jefferies
has arrived, and Doctor Crusher is on her way to sickbay with the injured away team members.”

“What about Chen and Cruzen?”

“They are en route to the
Arrow
’s landing bay.”

Nodding in approval, Picard said, “Are transporters locked on?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Worf replied. “They are standing by the moment Chen and Cruzen reach the pad.”

What was taking so damned long?
The seconds seemed to crawl, each one taking an eternity. “Jodis, this is Captain Picard, can you hear me?”

“I hear you,”
replied the Raqilan. “
We are maintaining course and speed, but we are still fighting the contingency protocol.”
He did not say anything else, and neither was that necessary. Picard had known from the moment Jodis explained the dilemma what it would mean for him and Bnira.

“I understand.”

“Captain,”
Jodis said,
“I have a request of you
.
”

“What is it?”

“Talk to our people, the Raqilan and the Golvonek. Convince them to seek peace. What has happened today—what almost happened today, and what was supposed to happen—should be more than sufficient to demonstrate the futility of continuing as we have. There must be change, and it must start today. Tell them, and make them understand.”

Feeling his throat tighten, Picard nodded. “I will tell them, Jodis. You have my word.”

“It was an honor to know you, Captain, if only briefly. May your journeys continue to be safe and rewarding. Farewell
.
”

There was a beep as the connection closed, leaving Picard to stare at the viewscreen and the
Arrow
, plunging headlong toward the moon.

“Impact in three minutes,” said Worf.

It would feel like three centuries, Picard knew.

Where the hell are Chen and Cruzen?

*   *   *

“Where the hell is the landing bay?”

Sprinting down the corridor, Chen glanced over her shoulder at Cruzen, who was keeping pace but looking flushed. The security officer’s breath also was sounding a bit labored, and Chen was reminded that her friend had already been through quite a lot to this point.

“This way,” she said, pointing to her right as they neared another intersection. What had started out as a simple dash from the
Arrow
’s engineering deck to its landing bay using as a guide the internal schematic contained in Cruzen’s tricorder had become a great deal more complicated. Sealed hatches were their biggest obstacle, as different sections of the ship, directed by whatever independent computer processes oversaw such things, automatically prepared the vessel for what it likely was registering as an imminent collision. Such emergency action schemes obviously included a loss of internal atmosphere as one potential risk, and as such, the ship’s numerous compartments were being sealed off as a protective measure against hull ruptures.

That’s going to be the least of this beast’s problems in about three minutes
.

All around them as they ran, Chen heard the hull vibrating and objecting to the increasing stresses being placed upon it. Now likely caught by the moon’s gravity, there would be almost no chance of the
Arrow
emerging from its descent. It either would hit its target or else break apart and scatter its remnants across the lifeless lunar soil. She doubted that even the insidious programming built into the ship’s computer could do anything to change that looming reality.

Rounding the turn in the passageway, Chen stopped short of dashing straight into yet another sealed hatch. This one was larger and looked more formidable than the others they had encountered, yet appeared to be just as locked. “Whoops.”

“Damn it!” Cruzen snapped. Even as Chen tried pulling on the door’s recessed handle and found it sealed, the security officer retrieved her tricorder from the holster on her hip. Activating the unit, she used it to scan the control pad set into the bulkhead next to the hatch. This was the third time they had been forced to deal with a sealed hatch, but the algorithms Commander La Forge had provided following his team’s initial survey of the ship had come in handy.

“The landing bay should be just down this corridor,” Chen said.

Looking up from the tricorder as she worked while regaining her breath, Cruzen eyed Chen. “You’re not even winded.”

“Thank my cursed Vulcan constitution.”

“I need to get one of those.” Aiming her tricorder at the control pad, Cruzen executed the signal that should have unlocked the hatch. Instead, nothing happened.

“Uh-oh,” said Chen.

“Shit. Something’s different.” Cruzen attempted the sequence a second time, but achieved the same result. “The damned computer must be overriding the locks or something.”

Chen looked around the hallway but saw no alternatives for bypassing the hatch. “Not for nothing, but we’ve got about two minutes.”

“Thanks.” When the unlock sequence failed for a third time, Cruzen tossed aside the tricorder and drew her phaser. “To hell with this.”

Holding up a hand, Chen said, “Whoa, hang on. It’ll take too long to cut through.” She rapped the hatch with her knuckles. “They’re reinforced pressure doors, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Cruzen tapped the phaser’s power setting and Chen saw its level indicator increase to maximum. “You might want to find cover.”

“What if that doesn’t work?” Chen asked, watching Cruzen finish setting the phaser to overload before jamming the weapon into the door’s latch.

Grabbing Chen by her arm and pulling her along as she ran back to the intersection and rounded the turn, Cruzen said, “It’ll work.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if it doesn’t, we’re screwed.”

Both women dropped to the deck and covered their heads with their hands just seconds before the phaser detonated, the concussion from its explosion radiating down the narrow corridor. Chen felt the rush of displaced air on her exposed skin as her ears popped, which was followed by a ringing sensation as the blast faded.

“Let’s go!” Cruzen said, dragging Chen to her feet before they both ran back to the junction. Turning the corner, Chen was relieved to see a gaping hole where most of the hatch had been. Scorch marks defaced what was left of the pressure door, and the floor, bulkheads, and ceiling were peppered with rents and tears from shrapnel. Beyond the newly created opening, the
Arrow
’s landing bay beckoned.

“Hot damn.” Cruzen clapped Chen on the shoulder. “We’re out of here.”

Chen tapped her combadge as they entered the bay. “
Enterprise
, we’re here. Stand by for transport.”

“Acknowledged,”
replied Captain Picard.
“All due haste, Lieutenant.”

“That’s captain-speak for haul ass,” Cruzen said, leading the way into the landing bay. The Golvonek transport ships Chen had seen earlier were gone, as was the
Jefferies
. All that remained where the shuttlecraft once had sat was the very welcome sight of the field transporter pad. Without ceremony, Cruzen and Chen dashed onto the portable platform.

“
Enterprise
, beam us out!”

Over her communicator, Chen heard Picard bark,
“Transporter room, beam them directly to the bridge!”

*   *   *

There was nowhere to go. There was nothing left to do except wait.

Jodis stood before the console, watching the image of the Landorem moon’s surface loom ever closer. Gravity had trapped the
Poklori gil dara
in its implacable grip. There would be no reprieve, and no chance of the computer or its contingency protocol to assert final control. He had calculated the time required to traverse the distance separating the engineering deck from the landing bay or even one of the emergency escape vehicles and concluded that either destination was beyond reach. The end, he suspected, would come quickly and without pain. He would not suffer, and neither would Bnira. Rather than fear, he instead felt relief, and he took comfort in knowing that when death claimed him, he would not be alone.

He felt Bnira take his hand in hers, holding it tightly and pulling him toward her. Her body pressed against his as her other arm wrapped around his waist. When he turned his head, their eyes met, and in hers Jodis saw no panic or worry, but instead only peace.

“This is but one stage of being.” Bnira glanced toward the screen, her smile never wavering as she returned her gaze to his.

Jodis said nothing, unwilling to detract from her calm resolve. Unlike Bnira and other members of the crew, Jodis had never believed in an afterlife, but at this moment, he understood the serenity others seemed to find in accepting such possibilities.

“I have no regrets,” Bnira said, reaching up to stroke the side of his face.

Jodis smiled. “Neither do I.” Despite the impediments time and fate had seen fit to place before them, he and his crew had accomplished their mission, at least in some respects. He could take solice in that, and also in the knowledge that those who had followed him and Bnira—Ehondar, but also the others, who had never known the true nature of what Jodis had set out to do—had not died in vain. He trusted the human, Picard, to see to that.

To the side of the monitor displaying the moon as it filled the screen and drew ever closer, a smaller indicator cycled through remaining moments, dwindling toward nothingness. For the last time, he turned to Bnira, who clutched his face in her hands and pulled his forehead to hers.

“I hope yours is the first face I see.”

Jodis smiled. “I look forward to that.”

*   *   *

Despite preparing himself for the sight, Picard still flinched as
Armageddon’s Arrow
—the
Poklori gil dara
—plunged like a tremendous spear into the moon’s surface. As planned to exacting degree by Jodis, the weapon ship struck the construction site of its past self almost dead center, the entire installation disappearing in a flash of light and energy. The blast wave expanded outward in seconds, washing over the dead gray soil and consuming everything within its radius. Without an atmosphere to sustain it, the detonation was snuffed out almost instantly, leaving behind an expanding cloud of dirt and ash thrust away from the surface.

“Damn,” said Lieutenant Dina Elfiki, turning from her science station and watching the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. Her reaction was mimicked by nearly everyone else on the bridge, and even Picard felt himself moved by what had just taken place.

Standing near the bridge viewscreen where they had been materialized, Lieutenants T’Ryssa Chen and Kirsten Cruzen stared at the unsettling imagery. Chen was the first to react, and when she turned from the screen, Picard saw the tears running freely down her cheeks.

“It’s good to have you back,” the captain said, his voice low and quiet.

Chen nodded, but said nothing, her gaze shifting between him and the viewscreen. Where the installation had been seconds earlier now was nothing but an enormous crater. Part of the mountain forming one end of the construction base had collapsed, with mammoth pieces of rock falling into the crater.

“Sensors show it was an overload of the ship’s engines and the power plant for the particle cannon,” reported Lieutenant Šmrhová, who had resumed her duties at the tactical station after returning with the away team. “I also picked up secondary detonations of materials inside the mountain. The result was total obliteration of the build site.”

Picard asked, “So, there’s nothing at all left of the
Arrow
?”

“There’s debris and other residue, but the blast pretty much wiped out everything.” Šmrhová shook her head. “Whatever’s left of the artificial structures are in the crater.”

Worf said, “Captain, we are receiving an incoming hail from Envoy Dnovlat, as well as the commander of the Raqilan fleet. They seem eager to speak to you.”

“I can imagine,” Picard said. Had the events of the day sparked new motivation in the envoy and by extension the Raqilan government? What of the Golvonek? Surely, knowing the fate their world had avoided would renew their own desire to seek peace? Though buoyed by some of the initial reactions from Dnovlat and Mynlara, he remained cautious in his optimism. The captain hoped this was but the first of the steps necessary to bring the Raqilan and the Golvonek once more—and perhaps for the final time—to the negotiating table. “Notify the envoy that I’d welcome the opportunity to speak with her, once we have stabilized our situation here.”