Chapter Ten

WORF STOOD BEHIND GEORDI at the mission ops station on the bridge and looked worriedly over the chief engineer’s shoulder. Other shuttle traffic was registering in the sector as delegations made their way to Kayran Rock, but there was no sign of the Ericksen.

“Damn!” cursed Geordi, punching up an earlier screen. “They got off to a late start, but it was all routine—until you put out that security alert.”

“An error on my part,” Worf admitted glumly.

“In hindsight, yes,” agreed the engineer. “But you couldn’t have known that the shuttlecraft had left. How long were you unconscious?”

The Klingon shrugged, “Fifteen, twenty minutes. It seemed like only a moment to me.”

“Maybe you should check into sickbay,” Geordi suggested. “You must’ve received quite a jolt.”

The scowl on Worf’s face told him that such a course was unlikely. “Have you scanned for wreckage?” asked the security officer.

“Yes,” answered Geordi, “and we’ve been scanning repeatedly. It’s like they vanished. The only thing that would account for it is a complete change of course and a shut-down of all communications. It’s like they were trying to hide from us.”

“Remember,” said Worf grimly, “aboard that shuttlecraft is a man with a phaser who has already killed two people.”

“That’s a cheery thought,” muttered Geordi. “But where would they go? How could Emil Costa even think he could evade a starship in a shuttlecraft that’s only capable of impulse power?”

“He’s insane,” Worf replied.

“Right,” frowned Geordi.

Worf leaned forward and pointed to a section of the screen. “There,” he said.

“The asteroid belt?” asked the engineer in amazement. “He’s insane, but is he that insane?”

“It’s within range,” added the Klingon.

A third voice broke into their conversation. “Commander La Forge,” said the communications officer, “we are being hailed by the Kreel vessel Tolumu.”

Geordi straightened up and heaved a sigh. “On the screen,” he ordered, striding briskly from the aft section of the bridge into the command area. He glanced back at Worf. “And keep the view localized on my face.”

“Aye, sir,” the young officer answered tensely.

A red triangular head mounted on broad naked shoulders filled the main viewscreen. His fearsome countenance did not look at all happy. “This is Colonel Jarayn,” the Kreel announced. “We just tried to contact Admiral Ulree and his party on your starbase, and they say they haven’t arrived yet. In fact, they have no idea where they are. They are still aboard the Enterprise, I presume.”

“No,” answered Geordi forthrightly. “The shuttlecraft left the Enterprise approximately forty minutes ago with the admiral and his party as well as our three ranking officers, Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and Commander Data. Their whereabouts are unknown, and we are attempting to locate them now.”

The ferocious face turned several darker shades of red, and Colonel Jarayn’s massive shoulders tensed. “Are you serious?” he snarled. “Could they be dead?”

“Missing,” corrected Geordi. “We have no reason to believe they are dead. But I won’t mislead you, Colonel—we don’t know where they are.”

The red-skinned humanoid was shaking with rage. He shrieked, “We give you an asteroid, let you build a starbase in our solar system, and entrust our highest-ranking officers to you—and you lose them! I should blow you out of the sky!”

“That wouldn’t be advisable,” Geordi answered calmly. “We know their last position, and we know the capabilities of our shuttlecraft. You certainly are within your rights to lodge whatever kind of complaint you want, but it’s in your own best interests to help us locate them.”

Geordi looked back at Worf, whose hands were poised over the weapons console. “We have reason to believe, Colonel,” he continued, “that they may have flown off course into your asteroid belt.”

The translator wouldn’t even take a guess at the string of Kreel expletives that greeted that remark. “We should have known,” howled the Kreel, “anyone who allies themselves with Klingons . . .”

“Please,” said Geordi, holding up his hands. “We’ve allied ourselves with thousands of races throughout the galaxy, including the noble Kreel. This is an unfortunate accident, but threatening us and cursing us won’t help. What would help is if you sent us the best charts you have for the asteroids in this sector. Our computer will compare your charts with our current readings and pick up any irregularities.”

The Kreel colonel seemed to calm down minutely. “This wouldn’t have happened,” he growled, “if you would just give us transporter technology!”

Geordi shook his head. “That’s a discussion for later. We will await your transmission. Out.”

“They can’t be trusted,” warned Worf.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” muttered the VISORed officer. As if he had been doing it all his life, Lieutenant Commander La Forge sat in the captain’s chair and motioned to the officers manning the conn and ops stations. “Take us to within fifty thousand kilometers of the asteroid belt and keep station. Divert all scanners to the asteroids and analyze anything that isn’t chondrites, achondrites, silicates, or metallic iron.”

There came a chorus of “Aye, sir’s?”

“Kreel data coming in,” announced the communications officer.

 

Data had restored artificial gravity and stabilization to the shuttlecraft, and it no longer pitched and yawed. It just floated behind the immense black asteroid. He could have used the thrusters to put some distance between them and the giant rock, but then they would have gone sailing off in the other direction, unable to stop without impulse engines to compensate. As it was, the android marveled that he had slowed them manually to what seemed to be the correct speed. It wasn’t really correct, he knew, and eventually they would collide with one or more asteroids. That could be in a few days or a million years.

The asteroids themselves showed ample signs of having banged into one another fairly often. Although they appeared at casual observation to be orbiting the Kreel sun at the same speed and trajectory, they weren’t. Gravity kept the herd together but also kept them off kilter, subtly attracting one to the other. Eons of major and minor collisions had put some space between the bigger bodies, but the debris from those collisions still ricocheted through the belt. The asteroids had no real synchronicity and were like countless small planets all in the same general orbit.

Captain Picard returned to the co-pilot’s seat after having tried to reassure the Kreel they would be rescued. “I told them the truth,” he muttered. “There was no point in pretending that we’re going to fly out of here under our own power. That would be foolhardy, even with full navigation and helm. And they realize that.”

“Yes,” said Data, never taking his eyes off a circuit board full of isolinear chips. “Our survival thus far is quite remarkable.”

Picard ran his hand over his bald pate. “Data,” he whispered, “we need that distress signal.”

Data peered closely at the miniaturized circuits, remarking, “The distress code generator does not appear damaged, but its support circuitry is badly burned. The tools in the emergency kit are rudimentary, but I think I can effect repairs.”

“Make it so,” Picard said with more intensity than usual.

A few meters away, Will Riker again found himself in the back of the shuttlecraft. This time, however, Kwalrak wasn’t hounding him. In fact, Riker found that he had been ostracized for sitting next to Emil Costa. The old scientist hunched beside him, looking as forlorn and miserable as a person could look. Riker would have felt sorry for the man, if he hadn’t behaved like a reckless maniac and endangered all their lives.

“Why did you do it?” he asked tensely.

The old man stared at him with haunted eyes that pleaded for help and understanding. “They would have killed me if I had stayed aboard the Enterprise,” he whispered earnestly. “I couldn’t go back, no matter what!”

Riker frowned, “Who would have killed you?”

Emil hissed, “The same ones who killed Lynn.”

“Who exactly is that?”

Emil shook his head as if this question had weighed greatly on him for some time. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Karn Milu may have something to do with it, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Karn Milu,” replied Riker thoughtfully. “Why would he mean you harm?”

“That damn submicrobe!” Emil cursed. “I wish I had never found it. It cost Lynn her life!” He covered his face with his hands and sniffled softly.

Will Riker sighed and shook his head. He had never pegged Emil Costa as someone who would go around the bend, but he supposed the trauma of losing one’s wife could do it. Emil might persist in saying he had nothing to do with his wife’s death, but his actions of today indicated a shocking mental disorder of some sort. If they survived this incident, Emil Costa would be kept busy for the rest of his life with examinations and inquiries. Together with his wife’s death, his perverse actions signalled a tragic end to an outstanding career.

 

Wesley Crusher paced nervously, anxious to get this over with and get back to the bridge. He never for an instant doubted that the shuttlecraft would be recovered with all safe and accounted for—he just wanted to be there when it happened.

“Go on,” Deanna Troi said patiently, aware the boy’s mind was wandering from his story—and why.

“There isn’t much more to say,” Wesley shrugged. “After Saduk let me out of the pod, we went out into the class-one-hundred area, and I saw Worf. He was checking the body with a tricorder.” The boy shuddered with a mixture of disgust and excitement. “You should have seen Dr. Milu’s body—it had a hole in it as big as a dinner plate. Burned to a crisp!”

Deanna nodded, glad it had not been her luck to make the grisly discovery. “Nothing else struck you as important?” she continued.

Wesley shook his head slowly for a moment, then shook his finger, recalling, “There was something Saduk told me—that Emil had alerted him to go to the pod room and check on an experiment. In effect, Emil saved my life. So I really don’t think he meant me any harm. Of course,” the teenager frowned, “Karn Milu couldn’t say that.”

“But Worf could,” the counselor replied puzzledly. “Emil apparently shot both of them, but one he shot to kill and one to stun. What do you make of that?”

Wesley shrugged, “He likes us better than he does Karn Milu.”

Deanna blinked at the unexpected joke, but she felt the frustration in it. Revelations kept piling upon one another, but not solutions. Knowing of the mysterious submicrobe and Karn Milu’s pursuit of it brought some clarity to these terrible incidents, but no relief. Now Will, the captain, and Data were caught up in this murderous web. Wesley’s account of what he had seen and experienced had been duly recorded by the computer, and there wasn’t much else Deanna could do for the moment.

“Let’s get to the bridge,” she declared.

“All right!” exclaimed Wesley.

The ensign reached the door of the consultation room first and almost walked right into the hulking figure of Grastow. Wes stumbled backward, but recovered quickly and reached for his missing communicator.

Deanna Troi was a few seconds behind him, but she instantly appraised the situation and leveled the Antarean with angry black eyes. “If you move one muscle,” she warned, reaching for her badge, “I will have you beamed directly to confinement.”

“No, no,” said Grastow sheepishly, “I mean no one harm. I helped Emil get off the ship, and that’s all I promised him I would do. Here, I came to return this.”

Grastow’s hand proffered a shiny communications badge, stuck to a few centimeters of red cloth. Cautiously, Wesley snatched it from the mammoth palm.

“I would understand fully if you put me in confinement,” the Antarean said with a bow. “I have interfered with the duties of a Starfleet officer, and I freely admit it. In no way is this an excuse, but I owe so much to Emil and Lynn Costa that I would gladly do whatever they requested of me. I am ready to serve my punishment.”

“Here’s your punishment,” said Deanna Troi sternly. “Everyone aboard that shuttlecraft—Captain Picard, Data, and Riker, six Kreel ambassadors, and Emil himself—is lost. We don’t know where they are. And Dr. Karn Milu is dead. So restrict yourself to quarters and think about what your reckless activities have done.”

Grastow swallowed hard, and Wesley was certain he was going to cry. Deanna pulled at his elbow.

She dragged Wesley away, but he looked back over his shoulder at the dejected researcher. That would be one more leaving the Microcontamination Project, he thought sadly.

 

“There is one problem,” Data told Captain Picard. The android was again lying on his back under the shuttlecraft control panel, and his voice seemed to float up through the instruments. “The more energy we divert to the distress signal, the less we will have for life support.”

Picard’s lips tightened. Life support was a problem he had hoped to put off for a little while longer. He knew there was a finite limit to the vessel’s power cells and regenerative ability, but he didn’t want to be reminded of it. Not so soon. Nevertheless, Data had opened the box.

“How much time do you estimate we have left for life support?” asked Captain Picard in a voice that was barely audible. He knew Data would hear him.

The android answered softly as well. “Theoretically,” he began, “a personnel shuttlecraft is equipped to provide for ten passengers for two weeks. However, factoring in the damage we sustained and the metabolism of the eleven individuals on board, I would lower that estimate by fifty percent. Boosting the distress signal to maximum output would further exhaust our energy by fifty percent.”

“Three or four days.” Picard nodded grimly. “That was my estimate too. We are not to discuss this with anyone but Commander Riker.”

“Understood, Captain,” replied Data.

Will Riker rounded the partition, managing a weak smile. “Did I hear someone mention my name?”

“Yes, Number One,” said Picard softly, “but we’ll speak later. What are our guests doing?”

“Mostly glaring at Emil Costa,” answered Riker. “They’ve grown very quiet. The Kreel who was stunned has recovered fully, but I believe the other orderly dislocated his shoulder when he fell.”

“The Kreel are very fatalistic,” Data observed. “They probably believe they are already dead.”

“We’re far from that,” vowed the captain.

But they were almost deafened a moment later when the Ericksen thundered and shook from a shower of asteroids striking its hull. Riker and Picard instinctively crouched to the deck, and Data sat up. There was no screaming from the back, just accepting moans.

“We are lucky!” shouted Data over the terrible din. “Without that large asteroid to partially shield us, we would have been destroyed by now!”

“I don’t feel lucky!” answered Riker.

Picard shouted, “How long before you can start the distress signal?”

“It is on, Captain,” replied Data. “Energy consumption is at maximum!”

They crouched down, shielding their ears and their minds from the crashing assault on the ship’s hull.

 

Ensign Wesley Crusher had just taken his customary seat at the conn station when he had something to report. “Distress signal!” he announced. “Bearing five-mark-eight!”

“I read it too,” reported Worf. “Standard repeater—it could well be the Ericksen.”

A quiet cheer went up in everyone’s heart on the bridge, but there was too much work to be done for congratulations.

Wesley shook his head worriedly, “It’s getting weaker.”

Geordi rose from the captain’s chair and leaned over Wesley’s shoulder. “How far away is it?”

“It’s fluctuating,” he said, “but I make it at seventy to eighty thousand kilometers.”

“We’ll have to get closer to transport them,” warned Worf from his station at the rear of the bridge.

Geordi patted Wesley’s shoulder. “Do you think you can get us another twenty thousand kilometers closer to the source?” “

To be honest,” answered the teenager, “I don’t know. According to the Kreel charts, we’re fifty-two thousand kilometers from the first big asteroid, which measures two kilometers in diameter. But there are bound to be smaller asteroids that don’t show up in the Kreel charts or on our scanners, and we’re certain to hit some of them.”

“Shields up,” ordered Geordi.

“Shields,” answered Worf.

The engineering officer peered over Wesley’s shoulder at a readout that had a Kreel chart superimposed over it. “It looks like that signal is coming from an asteroid,” he said puzzledly.

“It’s very near to one,” Wesley agreed, “and it may interfere with transporter operations. To be certain we’re in transporter range, we should draw to within forty-five thousand kilometers. I’ll have to do a manual override, because computer navigation would never allow us to get that close.”

“Do whatever it takes,” ordered Geordi. “We need to get a good read on them before we can start transporting.” He called out, “La Forge to O’Brien!”

“O’Brien here,” answered the transporter operator.

“Lock on to the distress signal,” said the acting captain. “I want to beam the entire shuttlecraft to the main shuttlebay.”

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” countered the Irishman. “With this interference, it would be safer to lock on to biological readings only. We don’t know what we’ll bring over if we don’t.”

“Okay,” muttered Geordi, “but be quick about it. When we lower the shields to transport, we could get clobbered.”

“Aye, sir,” answered O’Brien. “Transporter Room Two is standing by to assist.”

“Await my order,” said Geordi tensely. “Out.”

The engineer left the young helmsman to do his job as he returned to the captain’s chair. With mounting concern, he watched an endless array of dark shapes slowly drawing closer on the main viewscreen.

He heard Deanna Troi shift nervously in her seat beside him. “I sense they are alive,” she offered. “But unsafe.”

“We’ve got to get them out of there and fast,” vowed La Forge. “Asteroids are so unstable—one little collision can start a pool table effect.”

“Pool table?” asked Deanna.

“An Earth game,” scowled Geordi. “You don’t want to know.”

A low rumble echoed throughout the saucer section.

“Shields holding,” announced Worf.

“Sorry,” said Wesley nervously, “I couldn’t avoid it. That one was almost a kilometer in diameter.”

“You’re doing fine,” said Geordi.

A succession of thuds sounded just over their heads. “Shields holding,” said Worf.

“The Kreel commander is hailing us,” said the communications officer. “He says what we’re doing is extremely unsafe.”

“Thank him,” answered Geordi. “Tell him we are attempting rescue.”

“Forty-eight . . . forty-seven . . . forty-six . . .” Wesley counted down, “forty-five thousand kilometers!” He spread his fingers across his control panel. “Slowing down to tracking speed.”

“Well done, Wesley,” Geordi gulped, rising to his feet. “Open all channels. Captain Picard, anyone aboard the shuttlecraft Ericksen—do you read me?”

On the shuttlecraft, eleven pairs of eyes and ears widened at once. Geordi’s voice sounded loudly over all four Starfleet combadges, including Ensign Hamer’s in the passenger compartment. The startled exclamations were almost louder than the continuing asteroid bombardment.

“Picard here,” responded the captain. “Good to hear your voice, Geordi! We are adrift behind a large asteroid and are passing through a shower of smaller ones.”

As if for emphasis, the shuttlecraft was bashed so soundly that Picard, Data, and Riker were all knocked off their feet. Wails came from the back, and Data was the first to straggle to his knees and gaze out the window.

He slapped his badge. “Data to La Forge!” he called. “Beam us up immediately. We are on a collision course.”

Picard and Riker struggled to their knees and saw that Data was not exaggerating. The last impact had sent them careening at a new angle toward the outer edge of the giant asteroid. Data grabbed the thruster controllers and laid into them with all his might. The effect was minimal as they sailed closer and closer to the curved wall of pitted rock.

Aboard the Enterprise, Worf announced, “Shields down!”

“Transporter Room One,” snapped Geordi, “beam up eight. Transporter Room Two, wait two seconds, then pick up stragglers.”

“Acknowledged,” said O’Brien in Transporter Room One. “Energizing.”

O’Brien couldn’t be blamed for locking on to his commanding officers first, and Picard, Data, and Riker dematerialized from the cockpit of the Ericksen. They were quickly followed by Admiral Ulree, Kwalrak, and three other startled Kreel. Only Ensign Hamer, the wounded Kreel orderly, and Emil Costa remained aboard the out-of-control vessel. Ensign Hamer smiled reassuringly at Emil and the orderly, as if to say they were more expendable but would probably be rescued anyway.

They were, seconds later, just before the small craft tore into the asteroid and exploded into millions of glistening bits. Each fragment spun off in its own trajectory to add a bit of sparkle to the ageless boulders of the Kreel asteroid belt.