Star Trek - TNG - A Time To Sow

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Picard rose from his chair…

…stepping forward until he stood directly behind the conn and ops consoles, as though the movement

might bring him closer to the person pleading for aid.

“Our reactor coolant tank has ruptured, and our environmental system has failed. Send any available

transports for evacuation!”

Picard’s eyes locked on the viewscreen and the uncounted asteroids drifting all around the ship, as if he

might locate the caller by sight alone. Somewhere out there, among all the tumbling and drifting rock,

someone needed their help.

Current books in this series:

A Time to Be Bornby John Vornholt

A Time to Dieby John Vornholt

A Time to Sowby Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

Forthcoming books in this series:

A Time to Harvestby Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

A Time to Loveby Robert Greenberger

A Time to Hateby Robert Greenberger

A Time to Killby David Mack

A Time to Healby David Mack

A Time for War, a Time for Peaceby

Keith R.A. DeCandido

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’

imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or

dead, is entirely coincidental.

AnOriginalPublication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division

of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas,

New York, NY 10020

STAR TREK is a Registered

Trademark of Paramount

Pictures.

This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc., under exclusive license

from Paramount Pictures.

For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-7434-8891-1

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Visit us on the World Wide Web:

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http://www.startrek.com

Acknowledgments

We’d like to thank John Ordover, editor of theA Time To…series, for the opportunity to participate in

one of these high-profile projects featuring the work of several authors. As readers and fans ofStar Trek

books long before either of us got the harebrained idea that we could write, we became accustomed to

names like David, Friedman, Reeves-Stevens, and Carey as staples for efforts on this scale. That anyone

might consider us capable of holding our own at the level established long ago by these fine writers is a

reward unto itself.

Thanks also to the other writers involved in this effort: John Vornholt, Robert Greenberger, David

Mack, and Keith R.A. DeCandido. Everyone pitched in well beyond the efforts of simply writing their

own story, offering insights and advice on one another’s manuscripts to make this entire affair a truly

collaborative effort.

Last but certainly not least, thanks very much to the many readers who’ve expressed their enjoyment

and appreciation for the stories Kevin and I write. One of the most common questions we ask whenever

working on a project is “What would a fan want to see?” That question and the mind-set it evokes

influences everything we do, and we hope it shows in the stories that end up in your hands.

Prologue

Translated from the personal journal of Hjatyn:

WRITING IS NOT SOMETHINGI have practiced much of in the past, at least in any capacity that did

not involve my work, but the crisis that is befalling us compels me to record my feelings and thoughts. I

am sure that others, possessing superior education and clarity of thought, are at this very moment

recording these events so that future generations might read and reflect on this time in our history. Still, I

feel an obligation, almost a compulsion, to do the same.

I know I should report to the school to conduct my scheduled classes, but I am finding it increasingly

difficult to remain focused on my responsibilities. With each passing day, those things I once considered

important and even enjoyable in life seem to be losing their significance. More than once, I have fought

back the growing sensation that I myself am becoming progressively inconsequential.

I am afraid.

My wife, Beeliq, keeps telling me there is nothing to fear, yet with each new day she spends more and

more time at the office of the colony administrator. She acts as one of his assistants, which puts her in a

position to know if anything was wrong.

What I am no longer sure of is whether she would tell me. Since our earliest days of courtship, she has

never kept secrets from me, at least to the best of my knowledge. That she seems to be holding back

now only deepens my anxiety. Is it possible she has been ordered to keep information even from her

husband?

Still, despite her best efforts, the worry in her eyes is unmistakable.

It is a look that becomes more obvious on those rare occasions that we can share a meal together.

Neither of us seems to have an appetite, however, and more often than not the food goes uneaten as we

watch the latest news feeds from Dokaal. They seem to be on all the time now, even in our classrooms at

the school. With the communications channels overloaded by everyone trying to reach family and friends,

the feeds are our only other contact with our homeworld.

At first, the images of destruction were rare, only one or two a season. Certain parts of the world had

always suffered from quakes, after all. Such disturbances were given their just due by the media,

appearing as part of the daily news broadcasts transmitted to the mining colonies from Dokaal. People

worried about loved ones who might be living in affected areas, and memorial services were held on the

rare occasions it was learned that relatives had fallen victim to tragedy. There might also be discussion

regarding the type and amount of aid the various regional governments might provide, but ultimately, such

news was usually forgotten quickly.

Things are different now.

Quakes seem to be erupting every few days at different locations around the world, and the effects seem

to be getting worse each time. Barely a week ago, we received the news that the capital city of Wyjaed

suffered widespread damage when a quake struck there in the middle of the night. Rescue efforts

continue with unrelenting intensity just as they have since the beginning, but hundreds of thousands are

feared dead.

Last night’s broadcast brought news of the most recent incident. We sat aghast and watched journalists

fight back tears as they reported the loss of the entire island nation of Saorquiln, destroyed by tidal forces

generated as the result of a massive undersea quake. My friend Rueq and a few others living in our

colony had relatives there, and we sat up through the night waiting for any word of survivors. According

to the accounts we have seen, it appears that all of the island’s inhabitants were lost.

The reports and images, coming from nearly every city now, are perhaps more disturbing because we

are helpless to do anything. Out here, among the asteroids, we are days away even with our fastest ships.

Besides, what would we do once we got there? Even those with the proper skills and knowledge do not

yet seem to know what is happening.

On another of the colonies, the wife of my friend Caesi has been in constant contact with the ministry on

Dokaal, but even her position as colony administrator has gained her nothing. No one seems able to

explain what the scientists are calling “recurring irregular seismic disruptions beneath the planet’s surface.”

They do not yet know what caused the quakes to begin, why they continue, or whether they will get

worse before they finally stop.

One theory that seems to be gaining support in the scientific community is that this is a natural geological

phase for the planet. Many scientists are searching for evidence that such an event might have happened

long ago, perhaps even before life evolved on our world, but I do not understand how this knowledge

will help stop the quakes.

What if they never stop?

More alarming to many is the notion put forth by several prominent spiritual leaders: that this is “the

Reckoning.” Many religious groups have long felt that our people have been drifting away from the

principles Dokaa laid down at the start of our civilization. They believe she is angry at us and that the

quakes are a punishment for abandoning our faith in her. Though this specific penalty is not recorded in

our people’s most sacred texts, the wording is sufficiently cautionary that it is enough to send waves of

concern through our more devout people.

As for myself, while I have always attended services with Beeliq, I have never accepted these beliefs

with her level of conviction. I know that she is seeking comfort and perhaps forgiveness in Dokaa’s

embrace, much as she did after her brother died in the mines. Though I did not do so then, part of me

wants to join her in prayer now.

The colony administrators are doing their part to keep up a brave front. They repeatedly tell us to go

about our lives as best we can, working in the mines or at the various stations supporting the miners and

their families. Despite their efforts, the activity is doing little to ease everyone’s concerns. My friends and

others talk before and after our classes, and I overhear conversations in the Concourse Module when we

go to shop or eat. Everyone, everywhere, all across the different colonies, seems to be asking the same

question.

What is happening?

2151

Chapter One

THOUGH IT WAS NOT UNUSUALfor him to be called to the bridge at such an irregular hour,

Captain Vanik was still surprised at the summons. After all, given their current assignment, what could

possibly be so pressing?

Located well within the admittedly small sector of the galaxy that had been mapped and traversed by

Vulcan ships, this area of space was one Vanik had traveled numerous times during his fifteen years as

commander of theTi’Mur.Other than its status as the location of a single minor conflict during the

protracted war with the Andorians, the region offered little of interest. None of the planets in the area’s

lone star system were habitable, and they contained nothing of scientific or strategic value. The only

quality the area possessed, in Vanik’s opinion, was that it had few distractions to delay a vessel’s journey

to some other, more appealing destination.

Has this somehow changed?

He had only just settled into his evening’s meditation when the message came from the officer on duty.

Well aware of her captain’s routine, Sub-commander T’Lih would not have intruded on his private time

unless she believed it was a matter for his attention. Whatever it was that had prompted her call, it must

be quite fascinating indeed.

Of course,Vanik reminded himself,further speculation serves no purpose. My questions will be answered

in short order.

The turbolift slowed to a halt and the doors parted to reveal theTi’Mur’s bridge. Triangular-shaped, the

command center was widest at the rear stations, with rows of control consoles to either side and angling

inward until they met the immense viewscreen dominating the forward bulkhead. Unlike other areas of the

ship, where lighting was adjusted in order to simulate the daily cycle on Vulcan, Vanik preferred the

command center’s illumination to remain at normal levels regardless of the time of day.

Each of the bridge’s key stations was manned despite the lateness of the hour, just as they would be

during prime shift, yet the captain also noted a crew member operating the secondary science console. A

visual inspection of the weapons station showed that the defensive systems were not active, meaning that

no threats to the ship had been detected. Even from across the room, he could hear the two separate

conversations taking place between members of the bridge crew and detected nothing untoward being

discussed.

Stepping from the turbolift, Vanik nodded in greeting to T’Lih as the subcommander noticed his arrival.

“Good evening, Captain,” she offered as she rose from the command chair at the rear of the bridge. Like

every other member of the ship’s complement, T’Lih wore the standard gray uniform of the Vulcan

Space Service. Impeccably tailored to her physique, the uniform possessed no decorative accessories

save for the small rank insignia on the left side of her collar. Like Vanik’s own, her features were lean and

angular, but while his hair was gray and full-bodied, T’Lih wore her black locks cropped close to her

skull in a manner that served to highlight the severe upswing of her pointed ears.

“And to you, Sub-commander,” Vanik replied. “So, what is it that has attracted your interest?” Rather

than take the proffered seat T’Lih had vacated, he chose instead to pace the room’s perimeter, walking a

slow circuit with hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the subcommander to make her report.

Moving to join her captain, T’Lih replied, “Fifty-two point six minutes ago, our long-range sensors

detected an object traveling at warp one point three. A review of our data banks shows that it is of a

type and configuration unknown to us.”

“Life signs?” Vanik prompted.

“No, Captain. The object appears to be an unmanned drone. It is transmitting a recorded message that

repeats at intervals of four point seven minutes. Translation efforts are already under way, and I have also

ordered an attempt to determine the drone’s origin point based on its current course heading.”

Vanik nodded, pleased with the report and the subcommander’s initiative, which also logically explained

the presence of additional science personnel on the bridge. “Is it close enough for visual inspection?”

By way of reply, T’Lih summoned the attention of the junior officer working at the main science station.

“Lieutenant Serel?”

The object that appeared on the bridge’s central viewer in response to the science officer’s commands

was unlike anything Vanik had seen before. It consisted of a bulky cylindrical module mounted above a

trio of squat engine bells. The cylinder’s outer shell was composed of metal plating, and Vanik could see

the join lines as well as the heads of dozens of fasteners that presumably attached the individual plates to

a skeletal frame. Two antenna dishes were affixed to the cylinder’s flanks, one of which appeared to

have suffered damage. In fact, pockmarks and other blemishes were clearly discernible across the

surface of the small craft.

“The damage is consistent with the effects of ion storms we have seen on our vessel’s hulls,” Serel

reported from his station. “According to our scans, exposure to such a storm most likely occurred

approximately eleven point six years ago.”

“What have you learned about its level of technology?” Vanik asked.

“Though we will have to retrieve the drone in order to complete a thorough investigation,” the science

officer replied, “its propulsion system looks to be quite rudimentary. I would theorize that the warp drive

was of an experimental nature, perhaps the first such test made by whoever constructed the object.”

Interesting,Vanik thought. Given that the craft was obviously primitive, in all likelihood a first-generation

deep-space vessel, that it had survived such an encounter relatively intact and still able to transmit data

was a testament to its designers’ craftsmanship.

Could this drone be the initial step toward first contact with a new species? Though he had worn the

uniform of the Space Service for seventy-six years, he had participated in only one other introduction to

an alien race. Vanik had to confess that the opportunity to do so again presented an intriguing notion.

He heard a telltale tone from Serel’s console and turned to see the junior officer rising from his chair. “I

have a report on the status of our translation efforts, Captain,” Serel said as he crossed the bridge to

stand before Vanik and T’Lih. “The object has sustained considerable damage during its journey. Much

of the message is garbled beyond our ability to decipher. However, I was able to isolate several

passages. The people who constructed the drone call themselves the Dokaalan, and the device itself was

not launched from their homeworld as part of an exploration initiative. Rather, it seems that the message

is a distress call.”

Vanik’s right eyebrow rose in response. An entire planet calling for help? What could have prompted

such a desperate act? “Did the message include a reason for their plea?”

“Yes, Captain,” Serel replied. “Their planet was undergoing global seismic events that threatened to

destroy it, and science specialists among their people predicted total obliteration within one of their years.

Though they had discovered the ability to travel at light speeds, they possessed no space vessels capable

of transporting people to another habitable planet. They therefore sent out a trio of unmanned craft in the

hopes of contacting someone who could come to their aid.”

Already beginning to surmise the likely outcome of this scenario, Vanik was nevertheless obligated to

consider what course of action, if any, he could undertake in response to the distress call. “Are we able

to determine where the object originated?”

Turning to the secondary science station, T’Lih said, “Sub-commander Taren?”

“According to our sensor scans of its onboard systems,” Taren replied, “it appears to have traveled on a

constant course at a consistent speed for thirty-eight point three years. This places its likely origin point in

an area of space that according to our databases is presently unexplored.”

It took little effort for Vanik to comprehend the futility of the Dokaalan’s actions. Even if the drone had

been able to travel at a faster speed, had its creators not understood the improbability of making contact

with anyone possessing the resources to render assistance on such a scale? Perhaps they had, and yet the

dire situation they faced nevertheless compelled them to make the attempt.

“Given what has already been learned,” Vanik said, “and presuming the Dokaalan scientists were

correct in their original predictions, it would seem the time to provide assistance has long passed.” It was

an unfortunate determination to reach, he knew, but the facts currently available to them seemed to

support no other conclusion.

“Captain,” T’Lih said, “we could deploy a reconnaissance probe back along the drone’s original course.

It will take several months to reach that area of space at the probe’s maximum speed, but it will be able

to ascertain what ultimately happened to the Dokaalan homeworld.”

It was a logical suggestion, and one Vanik at first supported. However, as this matter involved a species

never before encountered, it was an issue that would have to be decided upon by the Vulcan Science

Directorate. Only that august body possessed the authority to permit any interaction with a new race, a

precaution intended to prevent the accidental introduction of technology, science, or even ideas that might

prove too advanced for a culture not yet ready to possess such knowledge.

Besides, theTi’Murhad other priorities. High Command had instructed Vanik to deviate from its current

patrol in order to observe the latest activities ofEnterprise,the deep-space exploration vessel recently

launched by the humans from Earth. Though the humans themselves held little interest for him, Vanik

nevertheless had kept abreast of their progress, especially regarding their efforts to perfect warp travel

and push farther away from the confines of their own star system.

It had long been the opinion of High Command that the humans bore watching. Though they had proven

to be somewhat innovative in their own way, they had also demonstrated that their inexperience in dealing

with a larger celestial community, to say nothing of their own arrogance and overconfidence, likely would

be their undoing.

SinceEnterprisehad left Earth, its crew and particularly its captain had managed to make quite a nuisance

of themselves. That much was amply demonstrated when the vessel departed Earth on its inaugural

voyage, deep into the heart of the Klingon Empire of all places. Only fortunate happenstance had

prevented their initial contact with the Klingons from dissolving into an unmitigated disaster, and Vanik

believed that the ultimate ramifications of the haphazard encounter were yet to be realized.

Then there was the recent debacle that had unfolded at the monastery on P’Jem. TheEnterprisecaptain,

Archer, had revealed the presence of the top-secret observation facility hidden beneath the monastery to

Andorian operatives. Now that station and the vital data it provided about ship movements and other

activities within Andorian space was gone, and the damage Archer had inflicted on Vulcan’s

intelligence-gathering operations would take a long time to repair.

Given all of that, Vanik could understand High Command’s wishes that the Earth ship be monitored. He

simply did not agree with the dispatching of aSurak-class vessel to do it. He hoped thatEnterprisewould

be able to avoid trouble for the few days until theTi’Murwas relieved by another vessel.

“Sub-commander T’Lih,” he said, “prepare all of the information you have for transmission to High

Command. In the interim, divert from our present course long enough to retrieve the drone, then adjust

our course and speed to make our appointment on schedule.”

“Yes, Captain,” T’Lih replied, and set about relaying the necessary orders. As Vanik paced back to his

command chair, he watched and listened as his bridge crew turned to their various tasks, satisfied that

they would carry out their duties with their usual impeccable efficiency.

Settling into his seat, the captain realized he was actually looking forward to what a full examination of

the alien object might reveal. If nothing else, the effort would pass the time until the rendezvous with the

Earth ship.

It would be up to High Command and the Science Directorate as to whether a vessel was sent to

discover the origin of the alien drone and perhaps to learn what had happened to those who had

dispatched it, but Vanik for one hoped the attempt was made. Given the calamity they had apparently

suffered, it would be unfortunate if the mystery of the Dokaalan were to remain unsolved.

Chapter Two

AT ONE TIME, Admiral Forrest could differentiate among the various types of headaches that had

always plagued him. There were those caused by stress or muscle tension or too little sleep, for example.

Then there was the newer variety of discomfort he experienced on increasingly frequent occasions,

invoked whenever he read one of Jonathan Archer’s more colorful status reports from theEnterprise.

These days, however, Forrest divided his headaches into only two categories: those caused by

Ambassador Soval, and the rest of them; and Soval’s score was growing at an exponential rate. Though

he didn’t have a headache at the moment, Forrest nevertheless mentally added another mark to the list as

he walked into his office and saw the Vulcan waiting for him.

The beginning of another wonderful day.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” Forrest offered in what he knew to be a vain attempt at pleasantries.

“How may I help you today?”

Dressed in his normal ensemble of flowing, earthtoned robes, Soval stood before the admiral’s desk

with his hands clasped in front of him. Forrest could not be sure, but he thought he saw the Vulcan’s jaw

clench. Something was definitely annoying the ambassador this morning.

“I understand that Captain Archer has managed to get himself into trouble again,” Soval said, “and this

time he required the assistance of one of our vessels to extricate himself from his predicament.”

Movement outside his window caught Forrest’s attention, and he looked up to see a Starfleet shuttlepod

flying past. It was ascending into the sky, doubtless on its way to one of the space stations or drydock

facilities orbiting Earth. The spaceframe of a new long-range space vessel was being assembled up there

right now, he knew, and hundreds of engineers and other specialists were currently hard at work

constructing the hundreds of components that would combine to create the next NX-class ship. He was

looking forward to tomorrow, when his schedule would permit him the opportunity to go up there and

see the status of the formidable project for himself. It certainly was a more appealing prospect than

anything listed on his agenda for today.

Is it too late for those guys to come back and pick me up?

There was no way he would retreat from his current guest, of course. A man not easily intimidated,

Forrest had long ago learned to handle personalities even haughtier than Soval’s. “And Starfleet is

extremely grateful, Ambassador. Please pass on my thanks to Captain Vanik and his crew. I also intend

to submit a letter of commendation to the Vulcan High Command for their actions.” Shrugging, he smiled

and added, “I guess it was just good luck that theTi’Murwas nearby.” It was an effort to keep from

smiling as he heard Soval exhale, an action on par with a heavy sigh of frustration from a human.

Of course, Forrest knew it was anything but coincidence that the Vulcan vessel had been in the vicinity

when twoEnterpriseofficers were trapped on the surface of the comet they had discovered. According to

Archer’s report, they had been under scrutiny by Vulcan ships for weeks. Though no explanations had

been offered, Forrest was certain the directive had come because of Archer’s actions on P’Jem.

His exposure of their secret surveillance facility hidden beneath the monastery there had not sat well with

the High Command. They had been against theEnterprise’s launch and its subsequent long-range

exploration mission to begin with, feeling that humanity was not yet ready to venture into the cosmos on

its own. That Archer and his crew already had logged a handful of notable mishaps since leaving Earth

had only exacerbated the Vulcans’ unease. Undoubtedly, they would want to take steps to insure that

Archer could not do anything else to interfere in their affairs.

“I have been in the company of humans long enough to recognize sarcasm when I hear it, Admiral,”

Soval said. “It is one quality of your people I have not yet come to appreciate.”

Despite his best effort to remain composed, Forrest could not resist the opening. With a smile he asked,

“Ah, so we have other qualities that youdoadmire?”

There was a moment of silence as Soval appeared to consider the words, and Forrest was sure he saw

the ambassador’s jaw tighten yet again.I think Archer’s right, and Sovalhasbeen spending too much time

among us lowly humans.

Finally, the Vulcan said, “I do admire your tenacity and desire to expand your horizons, Admiral, as

these are commendable goals. My concern, however, and it is one shared by many of my people, is that

you refuse to temper such determination with patience. Surely you can admit that your ignorance of the

galaxy you inhabit already has been a source of great disruption?”

The compliment, wrapped as it was within the criticism, was still high praise indeed. Forrest knew that

the ambassador had spent a great deal of time on Earth in the decades following first contact. He also

had been one of the many voices of Vulcan dissent when Zefram Cochrane and Henry Archer had begun

work on the Warp 5 project, all while Forrest himself was little more than a wide-eyed teenager

contemplating a four-year stint in the navy in order to earn money for college. As Cochrane, along with

the elder Archer and hundreds of others, labored to expand the limited warp capabilities of his original

Phoenixspacecraft and those efforts began to bear fruit, Soval had been there, always warning that the

“humans were too brash and were moving too fast for their own good.”

And now this, a grudging accoladeforhumans from one of their most vocal detractors?

Could Soval actually be mellowing in his middle age?

Wishful thinking, Admiral.

Deploying his best diplomatic charm, Forrest said, “Ambassador, it’s true that Jonathan Archer is not

the experienced commander one might like to have in charge of theEnterprise.No human possesses such

experience, and the only way we’re ever going to acquire it is by going out there. Will we make

mistakes? I don’t doubt it, but in the end I trust Archer’s judgment.”

“I hope your confidence is not misplaced, Admiral,” Soval replied, “and that Captain Archer obtains the

experience he seeks before he commits a transgression that does real, lasting damage.”

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Picardrosefromhischair……steppingforwarduntilhestooddirectlybehindtheconnandopsconsoles,asthoughthemovementmightbringhimclosertothepersonpleadingforaid.“Ourreactorcoolanttankhasruptured,andourenvironmentalsystemhasfailed.Sendanyavailabletransportsforevacuation!”Picard’seyeslockedontheviewscreenandthe...

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