STAR TREK - TNG - 02 - Peacekeepers

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter One

“ITWASAwild-goose chase, Number One, but I have to admit I am not at all displeased at that.”

In fact Captain Jean-Luc Picard looked more than just “not at all displeased.” A slight smile gave his

normally stern features a decidedly relaxed look as he settled his wiry frame into the comfort of the

captain’s chair. In the main viewer, the sparse stars of this remote section of the Orion Arm slid smoothly

past as theEnterprise warped toward the nearest Starbase, hundreds of parsecs distant.

Seated at Picard’s right, Commander William Riker smiled. “The Ferengi are not the most pleasant

people to deal with, even under the best of circumstances.”

Picard nodded, the shadow of a memory hardening his features briefly. “You’re developing a gift for

understatement, Number One. Personally, I would have no objections whatsoever to serving out the rest

of my career without ever having to hear the name again.”

“Look at it this way, sir,” Riker said. “We didn’t find any evidence that the Ferengi had been active in

this sector, but we did discover two previously unknown class-M planets, both of which may be ready

for Federation contact in a few generations.”

“Yes, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Data volunteered helpfully from the forward station, “any

mission that results in the discovery of more than three billion sentient beings could not be considered a

‘wild-goose chase.’ ”

Riker smiled as he looked at the android. “I’m surprised you’re familiar with that phrase, Mr. Data.”

“On the contrary, Commander, I’m not. I was quite puzzled when the captain first made use of it. My

information indicated that the Ferengi, though their values do not coincide with those of the Federation,

could not be considered ‘wild’ in the sense of their being uncivilized, barbarous, or primitive. Nor are

they of avian ancestry. I therefore concluded that the phrase must be a figure of human speech not

included in my programming. However, the subsequent exchange between yourself and the captain has, I

believe, enabled me to deduce the approximate meaning.”

Riker laughed. “And that meaning is?”

Data pulled in his breath and straightened in his chair, as if he were a student who had been called upon

to recite. “A project that fails because the information that caused the project to be initiated was false or

misleading in some way,” he said, finishing with a questioning glance at Picard.

“Very good, Mr. Data,” the captain said with the ghost of a chuckle. “I’ve never heard it defined more

precisely—particularly by someone who first heard the expression only minutes before.”

“Thank you, sir, but I was designed to—”

Abruptly, Data fell silent, his luminous golden eyes widening imperceptibly as the displays on the panel

before him flashed a tentative message. His fingers danced briefly across the panel, confirming and

enhancing the information.

“Captain,” he said, “scanners indicate the presence of an artifact of considerable mass, bearing

zero-one-two, mark zero-zero-five.”

“Another starship?” Picard responded. “Don’t tell me it’s Ferengi.”

“The mass is consistent with that of a small starship, sir, but it is not under power.”

“A derelict?” Picard sat up straighter and leaned forward slightly.

“Possible, sir, but at this distance—”

“Then we had better get closer. Mr. La Forge, alter course accordingly.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Lieutenant Geordi La Forge, the slim, silvery Visor covering the blank whiteness of his

sightless eyes, tapped in the changes unerringly.

“Mr. Data, put the object on the viewer, maximum magnification.”

“Already done, sir, but at this distance it is impossible to discern any details.”

Picard squinted at the viewer and the indistinct, featureless dot at its center. A flicker of impatience

darted across his aquiline features, as it sometimes did on those rare occasions when he was forced to

realize that, superb though the technology was that drove theEnterprise , it was still not quite magic. It

had its limits, and the fact that he could issue an order did not mean that, when it was carried out, the

results would be as perfect as he had hoped.

“Lieutenant Worf,” Picard said, standing and turning toward the aft section of the bridge where the

Klingon monitored the science stations, “any indications of life forms?”

“Nothing yet, sir. But—”

“I know, Lieutenant, ‘but at this distance’ there’s no way of being positive.”

“Yes, sir,” Worf rumbled in agreement, “but what I was going to say was that, although the sensors can’t

yet detect any life forms, there are indications of a functioning power source aboard the vessel.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Picard said. “Lieutenant Yar, open hailing frequencies.”

“Hailing frequencies open, sir,” the blond security chief responded from the tactical station immediately

above and behind the command area.

“Mr. La Forge, proceed on impulse power the last million kilometers. Do not approach closer than ten

thousand kilometers without further orders.”

“Aye-aye, sir, ten thousand kilometers.”

“No response, sir,” Yar announced as she leaned forward over the tactical console.

“Continue monitoring, Lieutenant, and transmit our own peaceful intentions, all languages, all

frequencies.”

“All languages, all frequencies, sir.”

In the viewer, the central dot was beginning to grow. Picard and Commander Riker stepped forward,

flanking Data and La Forge at the forward station, as if by moving closer, they could speed its growth.

The forward turbolift slid open and Counselor Deanna Troi emerged, her dark hair a mass of curls today

instead of in the severe, pulled-back style she had been affecting recently. Joining them, she stood next to

Picard.

“I sense anticipation in your thoughts, Jean-Luc,” she said softly.

Picard indicated the viewer. “There’s something out there,” he said. “We’ll see what in a few minutes.”

She nodded, her eyes taking in the scene, then sliding subconsciously from the viewer to Riker—and

quickly returning.

The dot continued to grow. Data was the first to speak, his precise voice reflecting the restrained blend

of curiosity and puzzlement that gripped him whenever he encountered something new, something not

included or explained in his phenomenally massive memory. “I can observe no obvious means of

propulsion, Captain. Does it not seem peculiar that a vessel without a propulsion system should be found

nearly a parsec from the nearest stellar system?”

Picard nodded, stepping closer to the holographic image.

“Propulsion systems are not necessarily always as obvious as a warp drive nacelle,” Riker commented.

“Our own impulse engines, for instance.”

“Coming out of warp drive, sir,” La Forge announced, and a moment later the image in the viewer

shimmered and resolidified. The dot, now expanding rapidly, was beginning to show shape and detail

even to eyes less sharp than Data’s.

And there were indeed no propulsion units. When the image had first begun expanding, it had reminded

Riker of a crude, blocky version of the saucer section of theEnterprise , detached and floating free, but

now he could see it was actually rectangular, little more than a spacegoing box. Not only were there no

propulsion units, there were no ports or openings of any kind, nor even a single marking that he could

see.

“Sensors indicate total absence of life, Captain,” Worf reported from the aft station, “and extreme age.”

“How extreme, Lieutenant?” Picard asked, not turning from the viewer.

“At least ten thousand years, sir.”

A faint shiver ran down Picard’s spine. Despite his decades in space, he had yet to reach the point at

which new discoveries, new indications of the true immensity and diversity of the universe could ever be

considered routine. There were some starship captains, he knew, who claimed that after a hundred new

star systems or a hundred new life forms there was nothing out there anymore that could give them the

same high, the same tingling sense of wonder that their first voyage between the stars had given them. He

was not one of them. He hoped he never would be. If that happened, it would be time to retire to a desk

terminal somewhere, to turn his command over to someone who still felt a tingle of awe whenever he or

she looked out at the billions of stars, the trillions of cubic parsecs still to be explored.

“And the functioning power source, Lieutenant Worf?”

“Standard antimatter, sir, and it appears to be supplying power to a number of individual devices.”

“And the nature of those devices?”

“Unknown, sir. They are operating at an extremely low level, consuming very little power, as if they are

not fully operational.”

Picard frowned thoughtfully. “Possibly some form of hibernation device for passengers or crew? To

travel between the stars in a sublight ship, the crew and passengers would almost certainly be kept in

suspended animation.”

Worf maintained his silence, but his sideways glance at Picard hinted that only humans, not Klingons,

would require that kind of pampering.

For another minute, the image continued to grow, until it almost filled the screen.

“No sign of any drive, sir, even impulse,” Data reported, “nor is there apparently any functioning attitude

control. The vessel is drifting at a rate of approximately one arc second per minute. If not checked, it will

make a complete rotation in three years, seventy-seven days, nine—”

“Thank you, Mr. Data,” Picard interrupted, studying the image in the viewer. Even at this distance he

could see no evidence of sensors, no external projections of any kind, nor any obvious openings.

“Ten thousand kilometers and holding, sir,” La Forge announced.

“Still no life-form readings, Lieutenant Worf?”

“None, sir, of any level. If any beings were in hibernation, they’re dead now.”

“The vessel’s proper motion with respect to the nearest stars, Mr. La Forge? Does its trajectory give

any indication of its system of origin?”

“None, sir. Its linear motion is essentially zero with respect to the local stars.”

Picard frowned.

“Internal structure and atmosphere, Mr. Data?”

“It is laid out essentially like a chessboard, sir, with extremely narrow corridors crisscrossing throughout

the vessel. The antimatter power source is at the center, moderately shielded, surrounded by—”

“Moderately shielded, Mr. Data?”

“The shielding is a degree of magnitude less efficient than that of theEnterprise . The resultant radiation

could, over the long term, prove detrimental to the health of any who occupy the vessel.”

“It could have killed them? In their hibernation chambers?”

“In ten thousand years, it would be possible, sir.”

“But it presents no danger to short-term occupants?”

“Such as ourselves, if we beam over to observe the vessel’s interior firsthand? I believe not, sir.”

“Very well, Mr. Data,” Picard said, nodding minutely. “Continue. Are there any indications of living

quarters?”

“No, sir. There is no area with an atmosphere anywhere within the vessel.”

“This lack of atmosphere—by design or by mishap?”

“It is impossible to say, Captain, without inspecting the scene firsthand.”

“Anything else?”

“Near the center, there is a second, lesser quantity of antimatter. Its shielding is even more inefficient

than the other, but, because of its lesser mass, it presents no more of a radiation hazard than the larger

mass.”

Picard frowned. “A weapon, perhaps?”

“Possibly, Captain. It does bear a functional resemblance to our own photon torpedoes, but judging

from its position near the center of this vessel, there would be no way of launching it.”

“From what I’ve been told so far,” Picard said, “there would be no way of launching anything from

anywhere in this vessel except by transporter. You haven’t found any openings yet, have you?”

“None, sir, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I know. Tightly sealed doors or weapons tubes aren’t detectable at this range. But even if there were

launch tubes, a single weapon on an otherwise defenseless vessel doesn’t make sense. Nor does the lack

of propulsion. It couldn’t run even if attacked.”

“It might not have needed to, sir,” Worf said. “I have been studying certain readings more closely, and I

now feel they indicate the nonfunctional remnants of a primitive cloaking system.”

Picard turned abruptly toward the science stations. “Nonfunctional? You’re positive?”

“Positive, sir. The readings indicate that the entire final stage of the system—the stage that actually

produces the cloaking effect—has either failed entirely or is missing altogether.”

Picard turned to again scowl at the image—the puzzle—in the viewer. For several seconds, he was

silent, a spark of hunger in his eyes. Finally, sighing mentally, he stepped back.

“Number One,” he said abruptly, “assemble an away team to beam over.”

Riker smiled. Picard knew he had seen the spark in his captain’s eyes, the spark that said, if it weren’t

for the rules, Picard would lead that team himself.

“Right away, sir,” Riker said, gesturing at La Forge and Yar as he moved briskly toward the forward

turbolift.

Field-effect suits activated, Riker, La Forge, and Yar stood on the transporter circles. Riker signaled to

Ensign Carpelli at the controls.

On the bridge, Picard stood just behind Lieutenant Commander Data, still at the forward station.

“Beaming over now, sir,” Riker’s voice informed him.

“Good luck, Number One,” Picard said with a faint smile. “Keep in touch.”

“We will, sir,” Riker said. His voice faded on the last word as the transporters took hold.

For a moment there was only silence, and then Worf said: “Sensors indicate away team has arrived on

alien vessel, Captain, in the targeted corridor.”

A moment later, Riker’s voice returned, only slightly fainter than when he had spoken from the

transporter room, even though he was now ten thousand kilometers distant. “Deserted, as advertised,

Captain,” he said, and, a second later: “Tricorders confirm, no life forms on board, no atmosphere and

no gravity. And no light except what we brought with us.”

There was a brief silence, and then: “We’re in a long corridor less than a meter wide. It’s perfectly

straight as far as I can see in either direction, but it looks more like an equipment access passageway,

almost a crawl space, than a hallway. There are panels on the walls that look like—”

He broke off. “Lieutenant La Forge, why don’t you take over the descriptive duties? I assume you’re

seeing a lot more than either Yar or myself.”

“Probably, sir,” La Forge admitted with a slight smile.

He was silent a moment then as he looked up and down the corridor, absorbing the jumble of

wavelengths his Visor fed directly to the visual centers of his brain. To anyone accustomed to normal

sight, it would have been sheer chaos, but years, of experience had enabled him to effortlessly select the

images he wanted, to ignore the clutter of irrelevant wavelengths and their unwanted—for

now—information. The selection process had become virtually automatic over the years, requiring no

more concentration than would be required of a normally sighted person who wanted to locate a red flag

among a hundred green, and then, a moment later, to pick out the only one that was circular, not square.

“The corridor goes approximately fifty meters in either direction,” Geordi said. “There are a half dozen

intersecting corridors at regular intervals, and at least a dozen doors—panels, really—on each side. But

there are no markings of any kind, either on the panels or on the corridor walls. The doors are big

enough for beings approximately our size or possibly slightly larger to pass through. The nearest panel—”

“Captain!” Worf broke in, his rumbling voice filled with urgency. “Bring them back, now!”

“What—”

“The device containing the secondary mass of antimatter has become activated! At the present rate, it

will reach a critical stage in less than a minute. The explosion will surely destroy the entire vessel!”

Chapter Ten

“READY, LIEUTENANTYAR?”

“Ready, Commander Riker.”

For another second, Riker and Yar, unrecognizable in their radiation suits, stood silently, their

magnetized boots planted on the derelict’s floor as close as possible to where Data and La Forge had

been standing when the derelict’s transporters had snatched them away.

“Ready, Captain,” Riker said finally.

“Very well, Number One. Mr. Argyle, begin removal of core shielding.”

Argyle, in Engineering, acknowledged. He sent the initiating signal to the remote units that, only hours

before, had struggled to put the shielding in place.

“Lieutenant Worf,” Picard said, “keep Ensign Carpelli and the away team informed of the radiation level

at all times. Ensign Carpelli, be ready to pull them off the derelict the instant there’s any indication of

trouble.”

“Ready, sir.”

At the science station, Worf began intoning the radiation-level readings.

“Any activity, Number One?”

“Nothing yet, sir.”

“First shield removed, Captain,” Argyle reported.

“Begin removing the next, Chief.”

For nearly a minute, there was only silence except for Worf’s continued announcements of the radiation

level.

“A light in the control panel just began flashing, sir,” Riker’s voice came. And, a moment later: “And

now there’s a map on the screen. It looks like a map of the derelict itself. Yes, I’m sure it is. And right in

the center, where the antimatter must be, there’s a green circle, also flashing. It’s obviously an alarm

system of some kind, meant to alert whoever’s running things, probably whenever something too big for

the computer to handle on its own comes up.”

“And a message just appeared across the bottom of the screen,” Yar put in. “No language I recognize.

Recording for future analysis.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant,” Picard said. “Anything else?”

“Tricorder shows activity in the hibernation units, but nothing else.”

“Radiation level approaching the intensity that triggered transporter operation before,” Worf reported.

“You heard that, Number One, Lieutenant Yar,” Picard put in. “Watch yourselves.”

“Yes, sir, we plan to.”

“Beginning to remove third shield, sir,” Argyle reported.

“Slowly, Mr. Argyle, slowly,” Picard cautioned. “The radiation level is almost where we want—”

“Antimatter core output increasing rapidly, sir,” Worf broke in abruptly. “Radiation level also increasing,

already higher than estimated transporter trigger intensity. Either the derelict’s power controls have failed

again, or something has—”

“Mr. Carpelli!” Picard snapped. “Bring them back!”

“Energizing, sir,” Carpelli came back instantly.

“Another transporter already in operation, sir,” Worf said, “on the derelict.”

“Carpelli!”

“I heard, sir! I’m trying, but interference from that other transporter is—”

“New coordinates, Mr. Carpelli!” Worf rumbled, punching a key that sent them to the transporter room

instantly. “Riker and Yar are now at these coordinates. The first transporter—”

“Locking onto communicators at new coordinates now,” Carpelli said tersely.

“Yar! Number One!” Picard called. “Hold on! We’re bringing you back!”

But there was no response.

“Energizing!” Carpelli said again.

“Antimatter core in terminal overload sequence, sir!” Worf said. “At this distance—”

“I know, Lieutenant! Mr. Brindle! Ready to raise shields the instant Carpelli confirms the away party is

back!”

“Ready, sir,” Brindle responded from the tactical station.

“I’ve lost them!” Carpelli’s agonized voice came over the intercom. “Interference from—”

“Don’t explain! Just get them back!”

“I’m trying, but—”

“No time, sir,” Worf broke in. “Terminal overload in five seconds!”

“I can’t get them!” Carpelli shouted. “The interference—”

“Three,” Worf said implacably. “Two—”

“Shields, Mr. Brindle!”

“Shields up, sir!” Brindle responded, his words overlapped by a blinding flare that filled the viewer. An

instant later, the entire ship shuddered as the shields struggled to absorb the raw power of the annihilated

antimatter.

And Counselor Deanna Troi, her eyes wide in pain, her knuckles white as she gripped the arms of her

chair, screamed silently in her mind.

Picard’s intense “Bring them back!” were the last words Riker heard before he felt the energies of the

transporter grip him. An instant later, the walls of the alien vessel vanished from around him, and he

waited for the main transporter room of theEnterprise to reappear.

But it didn’t.

Instead, when he felt the transporter release its grip, indicating he had arrived at his destination, there

was only utter blackness and a harsh metallic odor. But the darkness and the odor barely had time to

register on his senses before the grip of the transporter reasserted itself.

And this time, shockingly, a kaleidoscope of colors erupted all around and within him, twisting and

shifting in mind-wrenching patterns that he knew instinctively could not exist.

In normal space.

In that instant, Riker knew that it was not theEnterprise transporters that had snatched him from the

disintegrating, radiation-drenched derelict.

It was the same transporter that had taken Data and La Forge—and, as Argyle had suspected, it

operated, not through normal space, but through subspace.

Suddenly, even as the thoughts raced through his mind, the colors vanished.

Everythingvanished, as if all five senses had been instantaneously wiped out.

Terrifyingly, even his memories began to fade, giving him only time enough to think: The derelict’s

transporter was destroyed while we were still in transit, and the energies that were Tasha and I are being

scattered through subspace itself.

And then even that thought faded, and he existed only in the single instant that was the immediate

present. He had no past and no future. He simply existed.

But then, after a time he had no way of measuring or even of comprehending, he felt something.

A tug, faint and distant, dragging him away from the nothingness that was all he could, at that moment,

conceive of.

Suddenly colors flared around him again, and, an instant later, his memories flared within him, and for a

moment his own returning thoughts and memories were as chaotic, as frightening as his impossible

surroundings.

But then, as if he had been thrown a lifeline, a thought rose out of the chaos, and he clung to it.

And his mind cleared.

The chaos of swirling, impossible colors faded.

STAR TREK - TNG - 02 - Peacekeepers

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