Star Trek: Pantheon (43 page)

“You are certain of this?” asked Jomar.

“Quite certain,” Picard assured him.

The Kelvan’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “And how long will it take us to reach this colony?”

“Approximately nine days,” said the second officer. “Unless, of course, we can find a way to go faster than warp five.”

“Which isn’t likely,” Simenon interjected flatly.

“What’s the bad news?” asked Greyhorse.

Picard frowned. “There is a ship in orbit around Santana’s colony. We believe it is a Nuyyad vessel.”

He could feel the air in the lounge turning sour as his news sank in. He wasn’t surprised in the least. The
Stargazer
was in no shape to endure another battle with the Nuyyad.

And yet, the only way to make themselves battle-ready again was to go through the enemy. They were in a quandary, to say the least.

“Clearly,” he said, “we need a plan.”

Jomar shook his head scornfully. “What we need, Commander, are weapons. And we have very few of those.”

“Then we’ll make some,” Vigo interjected.

The Kelvan turned to him, his features in repose but his posture one of skepticism. “Out of what, if I may ask?”

“That is the question,” Picard agreed. He looked around the table. “Considering the ingenuity and expertise represented in this room, I was hoping to get some answers.”

It was a challenge, nothing more. However, there was an unexpected edge in Jomar’s normally neutral voice as he answered it.

“We could have had weapons specifically designed with the Nuyyad in mind,” he reminded them. “However, you turned down my offer to make them for you. Now it is too late for that.”

“With all due respect,” Picard told him, “there were reasons we turned down your offer. And as you say, it’s too late to contemplate making those weapons now, so let’s discuss something we
can
accomplish.”

He addressed the entire group again. “In nine days, we will reach Ms. Santana’s colony. If by that time, we cannot come up with a way to neutralize the Nuyyad presence there, we will have failed in our duty to the Federation—and I, for one, will not accept such an outcome.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Vigo spoke up again, his blue brow furrowed with concentration. “I think I have an idea, sir.”

“By all means,” Picard told him, “share it with us.”

The Pandrilite described what he had in mind. It didn’t involve any exotic technology. But before he was finished, everyone in the lounge was a little more hopeful.

Even Jomar.

Picard stood in front of the captain’s chair and gazed at the forward viewscreen, where he could clearly see a Nuyyad vessel in orbit around a blue, green, and white planet.

The enemy ship looked exactly like the first one they had encountered. It was immense, flat, diamond-shaped…and more than likely, equipped with the same powerful vidrion cannons that had inflicted so much punishment on the
Stargazer
already.

Picard tried not to contemplate how much more damage they could do without any shields to slow them down.

“There it is,” said Ben Zoma, who had come over to stand beside him.

The second officer nodded. “Slow to half impulse, helm.”

“Half impulse,” Idun confirmed.

Picard turned to Vigo, who was sitting in Werber’s spot behind the weapons console. “Are the shuttles ready?” he asked.

“They are, sir,” came the Pandrilite’s response.

The second officer turned back to the screen. “Release them.”

“Aye, sir,” said Vigo.

Picard watched the viewscreen. If the Nuyyad vessel had picked up the
Stargazer
on her sensors, she wasn’t giving the least indication of it. She was just sitting there in orbit around Santana’s planet, looking like a large, deadly blade.

Abruptly, a handful of smaller craft invaded the screen from its bottom edge—seven remote-controlled Starfleet shuttles hurtling through the void at full impulse, rapidly leaving the
Stargazer
behind. The shuttles, which ranged in size up to a Type-7 personnel carrier, looked dwarfed by the Nuyyad ship even though the latter was much more distant.

“Status?” Picard demanded.

Gerda answered him. “Eighty seconds to target.”

The commander could feel his heart thud against his ribs. Eighty seconds. Five million kilometers. The difference between victory and defeat, life and death, survival and annihilation.

Ben Zoma cast him a look of confidence, a look that seemed to assure Picard that everything would be all right. Then he retreated to the engineering console and began monitoring ship’s systems.

Each of the shuttles carried an antimatter payload big enough to punch a hole in the Nuyyad vessel’s shields. But to accomplish that feat, they would have to reach the enemy unscathed—and that, Picard reflected, was easier said than done.

He had barely completed the thought when one of the shuttles became a flare of white light on the viewscreen. Cursing beneath his breath, he whirled on his weapons officer.

“What happened, Mr. Vigo?”

The Pandrilite shook his large blue head, obviously as confused by the premature explosion as Picard was. “I don’t know, sir. I didn’t trigger it, I can tell you that.”

“I can confirm that,” Ben Zoma interjected. “The payload seemed to go off on its own.”

The second officer could feel his teeth grinding. If the other shuttles went off prematurely, they would be all but toothless. The Nuyyad vessel could pick them off at its leisure.

“Fifty seconds,” Gerda announced.

It was time for the
Stargazer
to enter the fray. “Full impulse,” Picard told Idun Asmund.

“Aye, sir,” said the helm officer.

“Power phasers,” the commander added.

“Powering phasers,” Vigo replied, activating the batteries that could still generate a charge.

“Forty seconds,” declared Gerda, her face caught in the glare of her navigation controls.

He glanced at Ben Zoma. His friend returned it—and even managed a jaunty smile.
I’ve still got confidence in you,
it seemed to say.

Suddenly, a green globe shot out from the Nuyyad ship and skewered one of the shuttles. Again, Picard saw a flash of brilliance. Then a second shuttle was hit. It too vanished in a splash of glory.

That left four of the smaller craft—a little more than half of what they had started out with. And they still hadn’t gotten within two million kilometers of their target.

“Evasive maneuvers,” said the second officer.

“Aye, sir,” Vigo responded, implementing one of the patterns they had programmed in advance.

On the screen, the shuttles began banking and weaving, making the enemy’s job that much more difficult. Unfortunately, it would get easier again as they got closer to the Nuyyad vessel.

“Thirty seconds,” said the navigator.

Picard desperately wanted to accelerate the shuttles’ progress. But he didn’t dare have them drop in and out of warp speed so close to a planet, where gravity added a potentially disastrous layer of difficulty.

In the end, he had no choice. He would have to grit his teeth and hope the shuttles did their job.

The Nuyyad fired another series of green vidrion blasts. However, to Picard’s relief, none of them found their marks. The four remaining shuttles went on, intact.

Gerda looked up from her controls, no doubt eager to see the drama with her own eyes. “Twenty seconds.”

The enemy vessel unleashed yet another wave of vidrion splendor. For a moment, as the
Stargazer’
s shuttles passed through it, Picard lost sight of them. Then the emerald brilliance of the energy bursts faded and he was able to catch a glimpse of the smaller craft.

There were three left, it seemed. Part of that light display must have been one of them exploding.

One less shuttle meant one less shot at success. That was the inescapable reality of it. But they were getting close now to the enemy. With luck, Vigo’s plan would pan out.

Again, Picard shot a look at Ben Zoma. As before, the man didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“Phaser range,” the weapons officer announced.

“Fire on my mark,” Picard barked.

The Nuyyad bombarded the shuttles again, lighting torches of pale green fire in the void. Picard squinted to see through them, to get an idea of whether any of his craft had made it through.

“Five seconds,” said Gerda. “Four. Three…”

Then Picard spotted them—not just one of the shuttles, but all three. As his navigator counted down to zero, they smashed headlong into the Nuyyad’s deflector shields.

And went off.

If the vidrion bursts had been showy, the shuttle explosions were positively magnificent, magnified by their reflection off the enemy’s shields. But Picard didn’t take any time to appreciate their glory. His sole interest was how much damage they could do.

“Fire!” he bellowed.

Instantly, the starboard phaser banks lashed out with everything they had, driving their crimson energy through each of the three spots where the shuttles had exploded.

Picard turned to Gerda. “Report!”

“We’ve penetrated their shields!” she told him. “Sensors show significant damage to their hull!”

He turned back to the viewscreen, smelling the victory they had been hoping for. “Fire again, Mr. Vigo!”

A second time, the
Stargazer’
s phaser beams slashed through the enemy’s tattered shields, piercing the vessel’s outer skin and setting off a string of small explosions.

But the Nuyyad wasn’t ready to call it quits yet. A moment after Picard’s ship fired, the enemy unleashed a salvo of its own.

“Brace yourselves!” the second officer called out.

Fortunately, Idun managed to slip past most of the barrage—but not all of it. The force of the vidrion assault drove Picard to the deck, his head missing the base of Ruhalter’s chair by inches.

Consoles exploded aft of him, shooting geysers of white-hot sparks at the ceiling. As a cloud of smoke began to gather, he dragged himself up and glared at the viewscreen.

The enemy ship had suffered extensive damage, her hull plates twisted and blackened from stem to stern. Still, she was functioning—and if she was functioning, she was a threat.

Picard meant to put an end to it. “Mr. Vigo,” he said, trying not to choke on the smoke filling his bridge, “fire again!”

On the screen, the Nuyyad vessel seemed to writhe under the impact of the
Stargazer’
s phaser beams. She was wracked by one internal explosion after another as the directed energy ripped into key systems. Finally, unable to endure the torment any longer, she flew apart in a splash of gold that blotted out the stars.

Picard wasn’t a bloodthirsty man and never had been. However, he found himself nodding in approval as pieces of Nuyyad debris spun through space in an ever-expanding wave.

He glanced over his shoulder at the ruined aft consoles. Ben Zoma and a couple of other officers had gotten hold of fire extinguishers and were spraying foam over the flames, though the control panels themselves would require extensive repairs.

Ben Zoma seemed to sense that his friend was watching him. Returning the look, he smiled a big smile. You see? he seemed to say. I told you you could do it.

The second officer turned to Gerda. “Report.”

The navigator consulted her monitor. “Damage to decks three, four, and six,” she replied. “Photon torpedo launchers are off-line. Likewise, the starboard sensor array.”

Picard grunted. They were shieldless and half-blind, and their once-powerful arsenal was limited to a couple of battered phaser banks. But it could have been worse.

Much
worse.

“Casualties?” he asked.

Gerda paused for a moment, then looked up at him. “None, sir. Everyone made it through intact.”

It was better than the second officer might have guessed—better even than he might have hoped. “Excellent,” he said.

There was only one thing left to do. After all, they had come all this way for a reason. He regarded the forward screen, which now showed him an unobstructed view of the planet.

“Mr. Paxton,” he said, “hail the colony.”

“Aye, sir,” came the response.

Almost a minute passed as Paxton tried one frequency after another. Finally, he seemed to hit on the right one.

“They’re returning our hail,” he told Picard.

The commander folded his arms across his chest. “On screen.”

Abruptly, the image on the viewscreen was replaced by that of a long-faced, middle-aged man with thick eyebrows and dark, wavy hair. He seemed to stare at Picard for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Then he smiled.

“You’re from Earth,” he concluded. “So Daniels and Santana must have reached you.”

“They did indeed,” Picard confirmed. He identified himself as the commander of the
Stargazer.

“My name is Shield Williamson,” said the colonist. “I’m in charge here. Speaking for everyone, I have to tell you how grateful we are that you chose to help us.”

“Especially after you led us into a trap,” Picard expanded, hoping to nail down at least that bit of information.

Williamson’s smile faded. But far from denying the charge, he nodded soberly. “Yes. After that.”

“I trust the Nuyyad ship we destroyed had something to do with it?” the commander suggested.

The colonist sighed. “It had everything to do with it.”

“I would like very much to hear the details,” said Picard. “But first, I need to know if you will assist us. We have suffered considerable damage at the hands of the Nuyyad. We were hoping—”

“That we could help with repairs?” Williamson spread his hands out. “Absolutely—however we can. As I said, Commander, we’re grateful for what you did for us—especially in light of what happened before.”

“Thank you,” said Picard.

“It’s the least we can do,” the colonist told him. “And if I may ask, how are our people—Daniels and Santana?”

The second officer frowned. “Daniels was detained for security reasons by our Starfleet. There were suspicions about him and Santana, as you seem to have anticipated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Williamson. “And what of Santana? Is she with you now?”

“She is,” Picard told him. “However, she was severely injured in the Nuyyad’s ambush.”

The colonist looked devastated. “Is she alive?”

“Yes. But she seems to have withdrawn into some sort of coma. Our doctor is at a loss as to—”

“Our physicians will know how to treat her,” Williamson assured him. “But we’ve got to hurry. Her condition sounds precarious.”

Picard had no intention of hanging onto Santana if there was any chance her people could help her. She may have led the
Stargazer
into a deadly trap, but it wasn’t his place to demand an eye for an eye.

“As you wish,” he replied. “I’ll notify my ship’s surgeon.” He tapped his combadge. “Picard to Greyhorse. We’re going to beam Santana down to the colony.”

“That’s fine,” came the medical officer’s reply. “I’ll prepare her for transport immediately. But I want to come along, Commander. The woman is my patient, remember.”

Picard regarded Williamson. “Do you have a problem with Dr. Greyhorse beaming down as well?”

The colonist looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Beaming down?” he echoed.

The second officer had forgotten…Santana’s people were descended from a crew that left Earth nearly three hundred years earlier. At that time, there were no such things as molecular imaging scanners, phase transition coils, and pattern buffers.

As Earth pushed out into the galaxy in the twenty-second century, there had been a need for a quick way to board and disembark from spacegoing vessels—and transporter systems had filled that need. However, the colonists might never have been impelled in that direction.

“It’s a sophisticated procedure,” he explained, “in which a subject is disassembled at the subatomic level, transmitted to another location and reassembled at the other end.”

Williamson looked at him. “Impressive. And are there any…casualties when you employ this technology?”

“None when the equipment is working correctly,” Picard assured him. “And without question, it would be the fastest way to convey Ms. Santana to your planet’s surface.”

The colonist hesitated—but only for a moment. “Very well. Where should we expect your medical officer and Santana to arrive?”

“Where would you
like
them to arrive?”

Williamson thought about it. “What about the plaza outside our central medical facility? It’s shaped like a hexagon and it sits between two of our tallest towers.”