STAR TREK TNG 41 Invasion #2 Soldiers Of Fear

For Jerry & Kathy Oltion

Chapter One

LIEUTENANTROBERTC. YOUNG, Bobby to everyone who knew him, sat with his feet on the lip of

the console before him. He had the stout build of an athlete and blond hair that sometimes got a little

longer than Starfleet regulation allowed. He had modified the regulation chair so that it tilted backward

easily, comfort being his highest priority. Life on Brundage Station was dull, routine, and his punishment

for telling Admiral Kirschbaum that nothing in Starfleet compared with snow skiing down Exhibition in

Sun Valley, Idaho. On Earth.

Bobby hadn’t realized he was talking with an admiral at the time, only some pompous fool who seemed

to believe that every officer aspired to interstellar travel. Bobby had gone to Starfleet Academy at the

urgings of his mother, a dear woman who was afraid that Bobby would spend his entire life on the slopes

of the sector’s snow-covered mountains and therefore never achieve anything of importance. She was

afraid he would die broke and without skills; he, on the other hand, believed skiing was skill enough for

any man and more than enough to live a full life.

But he loved his mother. He had joined. And because he had been a good cadet who had done well in

officer training, he had gone to one too many off-campus parties, and insulted the wrong admiral.

Friends later told him that if he had made the same comment to Admiral Zlitch, she would have laughed,

agreed, and then compared the latest in ski-boot technology with him.

Admiral Kirschbaum had merely said,If you find all of the galaxy boring, young man, I have the

assignment for you.

Brundage Station, armpit of the galaxy. Some wag—another skier, obviously—fifty years before had

given the station the Brundage nickname after a famous ski hill in McCall, Idaho, because, rumor had it,

Brundage stood on the slippery slope to nowhere.

Brundage was now officially known as Brundage Point Listening Station. Sometimes, in the oldest

references to the station, it was called the Furies Point Defensive Listening Station. Over eighty years

before, some incredibly powerful beings had come through a point in space near the post, and had

eventually declared themselves the enemy. In coming they had destroyed an entire solar system, the

remains of which now swirled slowly in the screens. Bobby had seen the old holos, read the old

materials, and studied everything he could about the battle that had taken place deep in Klingon space,

not because he was interested, but because it was required.

Starfleet believed the Furies would come again.

They hadn’t, of course.

Other lieutenants had run Brundage Station, shifting to real duty after three years of service, always

swearing they would never watch an empty part of space again.

Bobby had been here two years. After three days, he had been ready to write the admiral an apology.

Now he understood what the wily old man had been about. The admiral had given Bobby easy duty to

show him that truly active duty was better than sitting on his duff all day, guarding the site where a

supposed enemy had appeared the year his grandfather was born.

In most ways, the duty was like any other. The station was small, and sometimes ships stopped. Bobby

commanded a team of three others. In addition to the Furies Point, they monitored forty unmanned

listening posts, most along the Klingon border. Occasionally they saw something. Usually they didn’t.

His evening watch promised to be no different.

He had holographic brochures of several nearby ski resorts in his room, including a low-grav, highly

specialized ski center on Regal III. He planned to go through all of them before he slept tonight. His first

extended vacation was coming up, and he planned to enjoy every minute of it.

The observation room always seemed big to him, even though it was the size of a shuttlecraft’s piloting

area. The two viewscreens, opened to the vastness of space, gave an illusion of size. So did the constant

emptiness and the inactivity on the control board.

He had some diagnostics to run through, but they could wait. His evening shift had a routine that kept

him awake and functioning through the long, lonely hours.

A red light flashed on the control board. The light intermittently illuminated the sole on his black

regulation boot. He frowned, sighed, and sat forward.

A malfunction.

At least it would give him something to do.

But the light flashing wasn’t the one he expected to see.

Something had triggered the warning devices at one of the listening posts.

His hands shook with excitement, and he had to remind himself that the last time this happened, it had

been caused by space debris in the listening post’s delicate trigger mechanism.

His fingers flew over the console as he ran a quick systems check.

Everything was in order at both the station and the outpost. But there seemed to be a slight drop in the

mass of the outpost. That made no sense at all. How could the mass of an outpost drop?

He tapped his comm badge. “Wong! Airborne! Judy! I got something happening up here.”

“On our way,” Wong’s clear voice came through the comm. “Run the diagnostics.”

“Already done,” he snapped back. Wong had no right giving orders, even if he was the only one with

engineering experience.

But for good measure, Bobby ran a second level of diagnostics. No sense making a mistake when he

had time. It would take the others a few moments to get to the control room. They had been in their

quarters. Bobby always took the graveyard shift, never liking the concept of artificial night or artificial

day.

The second diagnostics checked as well. The mass of the listening post continued to drop slightly, even

though that seemed impossible. Something was clearly going on out there. Just what was the question.

He let the air whistle through his teeth. Behind him the door hissed open and Wong, a slender man twice

Bobby’s age, hurried in.

Wong grabbed the empty chair beside Bobby’s, leaned over the console, and ran a third set of

diagnostics, his fingers flying over the board almost faster than the eye could follow.

“Mine already checked out,” Bobby said. “Both times.”

“Hmm,” Wong said, apparently unimpressed. When the diagnostic finished, he said, “That makes no

sense,” and began a series of other tests that Bobby had only heard about. Bobby didn’t stop him; better

to be careful. Bobby’s mouth was dry. He had never thought about what he would do if something real

triggered one of the outpost alarms.

Judy hurried in next. Her long silver hair was still down, and she wore a robe over her nonregulation

lounging clothes. She was tiny, in her mid-fifties, and the unofficial leader of the group. She had two fully

grown children, both in Starfleet, and she liked to cook. Sometimes they even called her “Mom” and she

never objected.

“What have we got?” she asked, sliding into the chair to Bobby’s left.

“Something triggered one of the posts.”

Wong grunted, and started yet another set of diagnostics.

“Have you run tests?”

Bobby glared at her. Did everyone think he was incompetent? “Twice,” he told her.

“Hmmm,” she said, as unimpressed as Wong had been.

Then Airborne burst in the door, his hair sticking up at all angles. He, like Bobby, had a tendency

toward wildness. Airborne liked to jump—out of anything moving, safe or not. His tall, lanky frame had

survived more broken bones than Bobby could imagine. Over the past year Bobby had been convincing

Airborne that jumping off things while on skis was more fun than anything he’d tried. But Airborne had

been reluctant to put in all the time learning how to ski, just to jump off rocks. He said he could do that

without skis.

“More space junk in the listening posts?” Airborne asked, rubbing a hand over his sleep-puffy face.

“No,” Wong said curtly. “I’m reading a major drop in mass. There’s something really strange happening

out there.”

His tone took the levity out of the room. Bobby forced himself to swallow.

“It’s for real, then,” he said. He leaned forward.

“I’ll get Starfleet Command,” Judy said, sliding her chair toward the communications console.

“Yeah,” Wong said.

Airborne came up behind him, and placed both hands on the back of the chair. “Tell us now, Wong. No

sense grandstanding.”

“He’s not,” Bobby said. Wong never tried to take advantage of the others. He just usually thought the

others were incompetent.

“Something has just destroyed the warning device at Point 473,” Wong said.

Judy paused in midpunch, her hand extended over the console. “Destroyed?”

Bobby ignored her. He was pulling all the information he could on the point. “Information on 473 coming

up on screen,” he said.

“We don’t need it,” Airborne said, sinking into the only remaining chair.

Bobby glanced at him. Airborne’s normally dark skin had turned a sickly shade of gray.

“The Furies Point,” Wong said, his voice sounding to Bobby as if he were going to be suddenly sick.

“No,” Bobby said. Sure, they’d all been prepped on the Furies battle, that was a condition of serving at

the post, but the Furies tale sounded like one of those grandiose stories skiers told when they got off the

hill, trying to make a normal run seem like something special.

Judy was punching the console frantically.

Airborne was double-checking Wong’s information. Airborne had a thing about the Furies. He liked to

goad the others with stories of them when the tour got too routine.

“Damn,” he whispered.

Bobby didn’t want to know. But he had to. “Did you scan the area?”

Airborne shook his head. “Just confirmed the point number,” be said. “The listening post is gone and we

got some strange things happening out there.”

Before he lost complete control of the situation, Bobby had to do something. “Well, then, keep scanning

it. I want to know exactly what’s going on.”

“I don’t,” Airborne whispered. But he bent over the console just the same.

His fingers flew over the console.

“You got Starfleet yet?” Bobby asked Judy.

“No, sir,” she said, automatically slipping into protocol. Bless her.

Wong let out a breath. “There seems to be a very large temporal disturbance,” he said, “almost as if a

black hole has formed where the beacon used to be. Only it’s much more than a black hole. More like a

tear in space.”

“Oh, man,” Airborne said. He was hunched over his console. “Bobby—ah, Lieutenant, sir—I’ve got a

reading near there of five ships. They just appeared.”

“What?” Bobby hadn’t seen any ships a moment before. He stopped the scrolling information, and

turned the screen back toward Point 473. Even on full magnification, he still couldn’t see anything.

“I’ve got the same thing, sir,” Wong said. “There seem to be five ships surrounding the disturbance, all in

stationary positions. And they’re huge!”

“Can you identify the ships?” Bobby asked, making sure to keep his voice level.

Wong shook his head. Bobby scooted his chair over and looked at the readings. He’d never seen

anything like them before. At least not in all the manuals he’d studied.

“Two have left position and are headed this way,” Wong said.

“How long?” Bobby asked.

Wong glanced at the panel. “Three minutes.”

“They’ve come back,” Airborne said, his voice trembling. Bobby watched as Airborne seemed to shake

himself, then take a deep breath.

“I’ve reached Starfleet, sir,” Judy said.

Bobby let out breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Scramble this message,” he said.

He waited the two beats until Judy nodded that it was done; then he started. “This is Brundage Point

Observation Station. We have a Priority One Emergency.’’

Wong and Judy both gasped, and Bobby knew why. A Priority One Emergency was the highest there

was in Starfleet. But if Airborne was right, then they would need all the help they could get.

“Two minutes,” Wong said. His voice was shaking.

Admiral Kirschbaum’s face filled the screen. Bobby was actually relieved to see his old nemesis. “Go

ahead, Lieutenant.”

Bobby squared his shoulders and made himself speak with authority, not panic, even though he could

feel the rising tension in the room. “The beacon at the Furies Point was destroyed. Our scans showed a

small drop in mass of the beacon before it vanished. Now a large temporal disturbance has formed

where the beacon used to be and five very large ships of unknown origin have taken up positions around

it. Two are headed this way and will be within firing distance shortly.”

Bobby watched as Admiral Kirschbaum’s face went pale and he swallowed hard. “Five ships?”

Bobby nodded. “Yes, sir. Five.”

Admiral Kirschbaum leaned toward the screen. “Can you evacuate before they arrive?”

Bobby glanced at Wong. He shook his head.

“There’s no time, sir,” Bobby said. “Those two ships are almost on us.”

Kirschbaum straightened and nodded once, the closest thing Bobby would ever get to an apology.

“Remember your training, Lieutenant. Anything that comes from Point 473 must be considered a Furies

vessel. Consider those ships hostile, and their approach an act of war. Respond accordingly.

Understand? Relay everything you are getting through this channel for as long as you can.”

“Done,” Judy said beside Bobby. “Starfleet is getting it all. And I’ve downloaded all our logs.”

Bobby glanced up at the two black ships growing on the screen beside Admiral Kirschbaum’s face.

They were like no ships he’d ever seen, not even in the old holos of the first Furies attack. These ships

were black with swept-back wings. They looked like a bird in a dive for a kill.

“An act of war,” Bobby repeated. He clenched his fists. “Yes, sir.”

“Good luck to you all,” Kirschbaum said, and cut the picture.

The silence in the room was louder than anything Bobby had ever heard. Then Airborne put his head in

his hands.

They didn’t have time for despair. Bobby had to act.

“Get those shields up and all weapons at ready,” he ordered.

“I’m still feeding all information and telemetry,” Judy said.

Bobby reached into the panel below and removed the emergency phasers. He found only three. He

would give them to his staff. He was the only one in uniform. He already had a phaser.

“Both ships have stopped,” Wong said as Bobby laid a phaser on the panel beside him. “I can’t seem to

get a scan on them.”

Suddenly a red beam shot from what looked like the beak of one ship.

The station’s shields flared a bright blue, then red, then white. The station shook and tumbled as if riding

a wave. Bobby gripped the console. “Report!” he snapped.

“Screens are down,” Judy said as the firing broke off. “They seem to be hailing us.”

“On screen.”

Judy nodded. The screen cleared. In the second before the image appeared, Bobby felt as if a bolt of

sheer terror struck him in the back of the head and shimmered down his spine. His first real command.

The feeling had to be because this was his first real command moment.

He forced himself to breathe, but the air caught in his lungs as the terror filled him.

Then the blankness on the screen resolved itself into a large scarlet face, with a black snout, and ram’s

horns instead of ears. The eyes were long and narrow, and in the corners feeding maggots looked like

tears.

Judy gasped, Airborne buried his head in his arms, and Wong pushed his chair back as if the thing could

come out of the screen and attack him.

Bobby’s fists were clenched so hard that his nails were digging into his palm. The terror in the room

seemed to shimmer and grow as if it were a real thing.

Bobby forced himself to breathe. Again he failed.

The creature on the screen opened its mouth. Silver saliva dripped from sharp, pointed teeth.

“Surrender,’’ the creature said in a voice so deep, so powerful, that Bobby could feel it in his toes. “Or

be destroyed.’’

Then the image winked out.

Bobby didn’t move. He couldn’t. The sheer terror he was feeling had him frozen in place. But he had to

move, for the sake of the others.

Judy and Wong were still staring at the screen, their mouths wide. Airborne raised his head. His carefree

attitude was completely gone. His eyes were dark holes in his face.

“History is repeating itself,” he whispered. “For the second time in a hundred years the devil has opened

the gates to hell.”

Bobby took two quick breaths, then said, “And for the second time we’ll close it.” He made his voice

sound as firm and confident as he could, as he imagined a perfect Starfleet officer would do. But he

didn’t believe a word he said.

Chapter Two

ADROP OF SWEAT ran down Will Riker’s face. He gripped the control stick of his jet firmly with

both hands and pulled into a steep climb away from the bluish green ocean waters below. A stream of

bright red laser fire flashed past his cockpit as the force of his climb pinned him into his seat.

He hadn’t used these old atmosphere dogfight simulations since his days in the Academy, and his lack of

practice was showing. He was ranked as one of the best space pilots in Starfleet and the best on the

Enterprise, but these old dogfight holodeck simulations used ancient jets at low planet altitudes and kept

score with laser hits. Twenty hits and you were considered downed.

The screen in front of him lit up bright red, indicating he’d taken a hit on his port wing. “Damn,” he said

softly, swinging his plane over into a tight barrel roll before the stream of laser fire could cause more

damage. A full-second burst of laser fire in the center of a plane would easily count as more than twenty

hits and end the game.

This time he managed to escape with only one hit.

“That’s fifteen for me,” his opponent, Lieutenant Sam Redbay, said through the headphones, as

Redbay’s plane streaked past on Riker’s starboard. “You’re out of shape, Will.”

“Out of practice,” Riker said, slamming his plane into a sharp turn in an effort to get Redbay back into

his sights. “Just out of practice in these old things. Program a space dogfight and we’ll see who’s out of

shape.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Redbay’s voice came back. “We’ll try that tomorrow.”

Riker laughed as he pulled up behind Redbay’s streaking jet and got him in his sights. “That’s a deal.”

Riker could see his old friend laughing at him right now. Redbay was a tall, thin redheaded man who

moved slowly, as if the world around him was in too much of a hurry. He laughed a lot, and his

freckle-faced grin was infectious to most people around him, including Riker.

The red light on the board showed he had a computer lock on Redbay’s plane. “Now,” Riker said, and

fired, but he was an instant late. Redbay took his plane down and twisted, moving away from the stream

of laser fire from Riker.

No hits. Again he’d missed. He had to admit, his old friend was good. Very good.

Riker shook his head and attempted to follow the other jet at the steep downward angle. At one time he

and Redbay were evenly matched fighters at this holodeck simulation game. In their last year at the

Academy, they had rented the holosuites and programmed dogfight after dogfight. And with each fight,

not only did their skill and reflexes get better, but the stakes rose, too. It started with bragging rights, then

lunches, then escalated to cleaning rooms. Their last match, the day before graduation, Riker had won

and promised Redbay a rematch.

But until today, that rematch had not been possible. Now, since Redbay’s assignment to theEnterprise,

it was possible. And Riker had to admit he was enjoying this, even though he was losing badly.

“More excuses, Will?” Redbay’s voice came back strong as his plane flashed past. Riker could imagine

his friend’s red hair and his freckled face grinning. He was probably doing everything in his power to not

laugh out loud.

“All right,” Riker said, laughing instead. “Excuses, then. But I won’t make them for long.”

Redbay’s choked laugh let his enjoyment come back clearly to Riker. Then Redbay said, “Actually,

Will, I wouldn’t have expected you to be up on the latest atmosphere-dogfight techniques. I can’t

imagine how you’d have time, being first officer on a ship likeEnterprise. ”

Riker heard and understood the mixture of envy and admiration in Redbay’s tone. They had been on the

same career track at the Academy. Their differences were minor: Redbay had taken two more piloting

points than Riker; Riker had been evaluated higher in the politics of persuasion. Their classmates had

always seen a rivalry between them, but no real rivalry had actually existed, even in these made-up

dogfights. They had been best of friends, and would never have gotten as far as fast without each other.

Then they separated, Redbay to years of test-piloting the latest high-speed shuttles for Starfleet, Riker to

work on starships. It wasn’t until a reunion several years back, when Riker had asked Redbay why he

hadn’t gone into starships, that Redbay leaned back, frowned, and said,I was planning to. I just lost

track of it.

You still can, my friend,Riker had said,but if you wait too much longer, you’ll be off the career

track.

Redbay had nodded, and the next thing Riker knew, Redbay was flying his first mission on theStarship

Farragut. His skills and deportment led to numerous promotions, until he got the plum: a berth on the

Federation’s flagship, theEnterprise.

“With you here, I’ll make the time,” Riker said. “You never know when it might come in handy. But

tomorrow we add in space combat.”

“Deal,” Redbay’s voice said. “But in the meantime, you might want to watch your ass.”

Riker slammed his plane hard to the left as a string of red laser fire flashed past. Then, in a quick thrust,

he pulled his plane up and into a tight loop. For a moment he wasn’t sure if it was going to work; then

Redbay’s plane dropped into sight and quickly into his scope.

Computer lock. Riker fired.

Redbay moved up and left, but not before Riker caught him with a shot.

“That’s ten for me,” Will said.

“You were setting me up,” Redbay’s voice came back. This time the laughter and enjoyment were clear

in his voice.

“Excuses, Sam?” Riker asked sweetly.

“You’re still behind,” Redbay said. “And just wait until tomorrow in a no-grav battle. I’ll show you a

stunt or two.”

Riker laughed. “You may be famous for the Redbay Maneuver, but don’t think I don’t know about it.

And how it’s done.”

Redbay laughed. “Been studying the books, huh? That’s only one of many maneuvers I have up my

sleeve. You don’t test-pilot for Starfleet for as many years as I did and not learn a few tricks.”

“I won’t be as easy as you think,” Riker said, laughing as he rolled his plane into a tight turn, trying to

spot where Redbay had gone. But the other plane was nowhere in sight.

The his comm badge trilled.

He let go of the stick with one hand and tapped it. “Riker.”

“Commander.” Captain Picard’s rich voice sounded strained. “I need you in my ready room.

Immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Riker said. “I’ll be right there. Computer. End simulation.”

The blue air, white clouds, and world around Riker vanished, leaving him sitting inside a sphere

suspended in midair over the floor of the holodeck. Beside him was another sphere. Inside, Redbay was

pulling off his helmet and undoing his seat straps. He glanced over at Riker and then back down to finish

the work on his straps. He looked serious. Very serious. He too had caught the captain’s tone.

Redbay climbed out and dropped to the floor. He was sweating and his workout suit was sticking to

him. Behind him, the sphere dissolved. “We’ll have to finish this another time.”

Riker grinned as he climbed out of his control sphere. “Have the computer save this game. I can still

recover.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Redbay said, patting Riker on the back.

Riker nodded, then exited the holodeck, the game already forgotten.

The air in the corridor was cool, and it made him shiver despite the sweat that coated him. Everything

had been fine when he left the bridge a little while ago. He wondered what could have rattled Captain

Picard so quickly.

Or for that matter, what could have rattled Captain Picard at all.

The message from Starfleet had been curt. Assemble the senior officers. Prepare for a Priority One

Message at 0900. Picard hadn’t heard a Security One Message since the Borg were headed for Earth.

The highest-level code. Extreme emergency. Override all other protocols. Abandon all previous orders.

Something serious had happened.

He leaned over the replicator. He had only a moment until the senior officers arrived.

“Earl Grey, hot,” he said, and the empty space on the replicator shimmered before a clear glass mug

filled with steaming tea appeared. He gripped the mug by its handle and took a sip, allowing the liquid to

calm him.

He had no clue what this might be about, and that worried him. He always kept abreast of activity in the

quadrant. He knew the subtlest changes in the political breeze. The Romulans had been quiet of late; the

Cardassians had been cooperating with Bajor. No new ships had been sighted in any sector, and no

small rebel groups were taking their rebellions into space. Maybe it was the Klingons?

He should have had an inkling.

His door hissed open and Beverly Crusher came in. Geordi La Forge was beside her, and Data

followed. The doctor and Geordi looked worried. Data had his usual look of expectant curiosity.

The door hadn’t even had a chance to close before Deanna Troi came in. She was in uniform, a habit

she had started just recently. Worf saw her and left his post on the bridge, following her to his position in

the meeting room.

Only Commander Riker was missing, and he was the one most needed. Picard couldn’t access the

message without him.

STAR TREK TNG 41 Invasion #2 Soldiers Of Fear

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