Star Trek: Pantheon (48 page)

Finally, the Nuyyad must have realized that something new had been added to the mix. Both ships peeled away, resorting to evasive maneuvers.

But Picard knew he had the enemy off-balance. The last thing he wanted to do was give them time to regroup.

“Stay on them,” he told Idun Asmund.

“Aye, sir,” said his helm officer, following one of the Nuyyad ships as it sped away.

“Get a lock on their aft shield generators,” he told Vigo.

Again, they were able to benefit from the Magnians’ participation in their sensor operations. The Pandrilite looked up. “Got them, sir.”

“Fire!” barked Picard.

The
Stargazer’
s phasers raked the enemy’s hindquarters with a devastating barrage. Unfortunately, they could dog only one vessel at a time—and the second officer was wary of getting caught in a crossfire.

He turned to his navigator. “Where is the other one?”

“Bearing two-five-two-mark-six,” Gerda told him. “But it’s got its hands full with what the Magnians are throwing at it.”

Picard nodded, satisfied with the way the battle was going. It was just the way they had planned it.

Suddenly, Gerda swiveled in her chair, her eyes wide with surprise and anger. “Shields are down!” she snarled.

The second officer didn’t understand. “We haven’t even been hit,” he pointed out.

“Nonetheless,” the navigator insisted, “shields are down!”

Picard cursed beneath his breath. “Fall back!” he told Idun, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

But as if the Nuyyad had sensed the
Stargazer’
s untimely vulnerability, the enemy vessel wheeled and came after her. The second officer looked on helplessly as the Nuyyad’s cannons belched vidrion fury.

“Brace yourselves!” he cried out.

A moment later, the deck slid out from under him and sparks shot across the bridge. No, Picard thought. This cannot be happening. We
had
them.

Hadn’t the enemy been at a distinct tactical disadvantage? And hadn’t they just reconstructed the
Stargazer’
s deflector grid unit by unit? How could it have failed again so quickly?

Abruptly, a chill climbed the rungs of the second officer’s spine.
The saboteur,
he thought. It was the only explanation.

A second vidrion barrage pounded them, sending the
Stargazer
reeling to starboard. Flung into the side of the captain’s chair, Picard heard the deckplates shriek like banshees.

“Evasive maneuvers,” he told Idun. “Pattern Omega!”

As the helm officer sent them spiraling out of harm’s way, Picard tried to take stock of his options. Shields or no shields, he told himself, he had to create an opportunity to strike back.

Then Vigo called out the best thing the second officer could have hoped to hear. “I’ve got the shields back on-line, sir!”

Uncertain as to how long they would
stay
on-line, Picard turned to the viewscreen. The Nuyyad vessel was bearing down on them, following up on the surprising damage done by its volleys. Quite possibly, the enemy commander expected to finish them off.

The fellow was going to be disappointed, the second officer thought. With the
Stargazer’
s shields restored, Picard had all his options in front of him again—and he knew which one he wanted to use.

“Divert power to tractor beam,” he snapped. “Target a point on their shields in line with their main emitter.”

Normally, a tractor beam was useless against an enemy’s shields. However, this wasn’t just any tractor beam. It was one that had the minds of more than a dozen Magnians to strengthen and manipulate it.

“Ready phasers and photon torpedoes!” the second officer called out.

But even as he gave the order, he saw the enemy release a volley of bright green vidrion packets. They loomed on the forward viewer, growing gigantic before Picard could do anything about them, finally filling the screen from edge to edge.

Then they tore into the
Stargazer
with all their savage, disruptive force. But Jomar’s vidrion-laced deflectors seemed to hold against the Nuyyad assault, keeping its destructive potential at arm’s length.

“Engage tractor!” the second officer told his navigator.

Gerda did as she was told—and used the ghostly beam to punch a hole through the enemy’s shields. Seeing the aperture, Picard smiled a grim smile and glanced at Vigo.

“Fire!” he said.

Instantly, the weapons chief drove his phaser bolts through the gap created by the tractor beam, piercing the outer skin of the Nuyyad ship. Then he followed up with a couple of photon torpedoes.

With neither shields nor hull to stop them or even slow them down, the torpedoes entered the enemy vessel and vented their matter-antimatter payload in a massive outpouring of yellow-white splendor.

Even if he had wanted to watch the resulting debris spin off into space, the second officer didn’t have the time. He had to turn his attention to his other adversary.

“Give me a visual of the other ship,” he told Gerda.

The image on the viewscreen changed, showing him the lone surviving diamond shape. It was exchanging fire with the planet’s surface, perhaps unaware that its sister vessel had been destroyed.

“Target their deflectors,” said Picard, “just as we did before. Ready phasers and torpedoes.”

“Ready, sir,” came Vigo’s reply.

The Nuyyad vessel began to come about, leaving Magnia alone for the moment. Obviously, its commander had recognized a more pressing concern.

“Engage tractor beam!” snapped the second officer. On the viewscreen, the pale, barely visible shaft of the tractor opened a window in the enemy’s shields.

“Fire!” he commanded.

The diamond shape didn’t stand a chance. Before it could launch an offensive of its own, before it could try to get out of the
Stargazer’
s range, a pair of crimson phaser beams sliced through the opening in its defenses and penetrated its hull.

As before, Vigo followed the phaser attack with a pair of photon torpedoes. And as before, they exploded inside the enemy ship, blotting out the stars with a splash of deadly, yellow-white brilliance.

“Well done,” said Picard. He turned to Gerda. “Damage?”

“Shields are down twenty-two percent,” the navigator reported. “Otherwise, all systems are functioning at rated capacity.”

The second officer was pleased beyond all expectation. “Well done indeed,” he told his officers.

“Sir,” said Paxton from his communications console, “Mr. Williamson is hailing us from the surface.”

Picard smiled. “Put him on screen, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, the Magnian’s visage appeared. “Tell me our instruments are accurate, Commander. The Nuyyad…?”

“Have been destroyed,” the second officer confirmed.

Williamson looked relieved. “And the
Stargazer?”

“Has not been,” Picard said. “How is Magnia?”

“Unharmed as well,” the colonist reported. “Our only casualty was a stand of old trees of which I was rather fond.”

“It could have been worse,” the second officer told him.

He glanced at Vigo, recalling their momentary shield failure, and contemplated the danger in which it had placed them. If the weapons chief hadn’t managed to get the deflectors back on-line…

“Much worse,” he added.

Picard sat behind Captain Ruhalter’s desk and regarded his acting weapons chief. “What happened out there?” he asked.

Vigo frowned. “Honestly, sir…when we lost our shields, I was too surprised to even think for a moment. After all, nothing like that had ever happened to me. Then I thought of the saboteur.”

“As did I,” the second officer admitted.

“I remembered how he had run a parallel data line through that command junction, and I started thinking of which command junctions were involved in the deflector function. As it turned out, there were only four of them, so I began bypassing them one after the other. After I bypassed the third one, we regained shield control.”

“And you brought the deflectors back up,” Picard concluded.

The weapons officer nodded. “That’s correct, sir.”

Picard sat back in his chair. “I hope I don’t have to tell you how critical that action was. If not for you, Lieutenant, our encounter with the Nuyyad might have had a very different conclusion.”

Vigo looked a little embarrassed. “I was glad to be of help, sir.”

“You can be of further help,” the second officer told him. “I want you to examine this altered shield command junction. See if you can glean anything from it—perhaps in comparison to the first altered junction we discovered. Then report back to me.”

“Aye, sir,” said Vigo. But he didn’t get up from his chair right away.

“What is it?” asked Picard.

The Pandrilite looked apologetic. “Begging your pardon, sir, but are we going to return to the Federation with the saboteur on board?”

The second officer was about to ask why that would be of particular concern to his weapons chief. Then it hit him with the impact of a directed energy beam:
the galactic barrier.

If their shields dropped just before they went through it, they would be naked to the phenomenon. The crew would be completely and utterly exposed to the barrier’s mysterious and volatile energies.

Kirk’s ship had had some protection, primitive as it might be by contemporary standards, and Gary Mitchell had still become a being capable of enslaving his entire species. How much more monstrous an entity might be created on a vessel that had no shielding at all?

“I see your point,” said Picard.

Clearly, they couldn’t go back to the Federation as they had planned. Not yet, anyway. First, they would have to identify and neutralize the saboteur, then scour the ship for lingering signs of his or her handiwork.

“I will find the saboteur,” the second officer promised. “I don’t yet know how, but I will do it.”

“I’m sure you will, sir,” said Vigo, his expression an earnest one. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“I’ll let you know,” Picard told him. “And Lieutenant…”

“Aye, sir?” said the weapons officer.

“As before, not a word of this to anyone.”

“You can trust me, sir,” Vigo assured him.

No doubt, Picard mused. He wished he could say that about
everyone
aboard the
Stargazer.

Carter Greyhorse walked into the
Stargazer’
s lounge, where Commander Picard was already seated at the black oval table.

“Doctor,” said the second officer, by way of acknowledgment.

“You wanted to speak with me?” asked Greyhorse, pulling out a chair opposite Picard’s and sitting down.

“I did,” said the commander. “But I’d prefer to wait until the others arrive before I begin our discussion.”

Others?
Greyhorse wondered.

He had barely completed the thought when Ben Zoma, Simenon, Paxton, and Cariello walked into the room, one right after the other. Nodding to the doctor, they took their seats.

Greyhorse hadn’t realized that this was to be a staff meeting. But then, he could easily have missed that part of Picard’s summons.

Ever since his visit from Pug Joseph, the medical officer had been unable to keep from thinking about Gerda Asmund again. He was so preoccupied, so distracted, he hadn’t even felt an urge to complete his tests on the psilosynine he had synthesized.

And with renewed longing had come a renewed sense of despair. Gerda was so forceful, so graceful, so vibrant…so unlike Greyhorse. What chance could he possibly have with her?

“Doctor Greyhorse?”

Greyhorse turned to Picard. “Yes?”

“I would like to get underway now,” said the second officer.

The doctor looked around and saw that Vigo and Jomar had joined them without his realizing it. They were sitting at the table along with the others. My god, he told himself, it’s worse than I thought.

“The reason I called this meeting,” said Picard, “is to discuss what course of action we should adopt next.”

Simenon looked at him. “I’m a little confused. Aren’t we supposed to be going home?”

“Yes,” said Cariello, “to warn the Federation about the Nuyyad?”

“Indeed,” Picard replied, “that is the agenda I had intended to follow. However, it occurs to me there is something more we can accomplish here before we return.”

“Explain,” said the Kelvan.

“As you will recall,” said Picard, “we were told about a supply depot that the enemy had set up on this side of the galactic barrier—one that seemed to be a critical part of their invasion plans.”

Greyhorse thought he could see where the second officer was headed. “You want to scout out this depot?”

Picard shook his head from side to side. “No,” he told his assembled officers and allies. “I want to destroy it.”

The doctor looked at him, struck dumb by the audacity of his declaration. So, apparently, was everyone else sitting around the table.

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” asked Paxton.

“I believe it is,” said the second officer. “For one thing, you saw how easily we handled those two Nuyyad ships.”

“But not without the help of the Magnians’ phaser batteries,” Ben Zoma reminded him.

“No question,” Picard responded, “the colonists on the ground played a critical part in our victory. However, I believe we would have defeated the Nuyyad even without their assistance. Our enhanced sensor and tractor functions provided us with a much greater tactical advantage than I would ever have imagined possible.”

“Let me understand this,” said Simenon, his slitted eyes narrowing in his scaly face. “You want to attack an enemy installation—where we’re liable to face a force considerably larger than two ships? And you want us to do it entirely on our own?”

The second officer leaned forward. “I want to take the Nuyyad by surprise—and they won’t be expecting a countermaneuver so soon after their assault on Magnia. On the other hand, if we opt to alert the Federation and watch them put together a task force, the Nuyyad will have had time to increase the strength of their defenses.”

“Are we even certain there
is
a depot?” asked Greyhorse. “Wasn’t that just the bait in the Nuyyad’s trap?”

“It exists,” the second officer insisted. “Shield Williamson has given me the coordinates.”

“Can we believe him this time?” asked Cariello.

“A fair question,” Picard told her. “But since our arrival here, the colonists have made good on all their promises. I no longer feel compelled to question their sincerity.”

“Nor do I,” Simenon conceded.

“The elimination of the depot is a worthwhile goal,” Vigo observed. “One worth taking a risk to achieve.”

“Exactly right,” said Picard. “We can vastly improve Starfleet’s tactical position, giving Command the time it needs to prepare for an invasion…or perhaps even head it off.”

“If we’re successful,” Simenon argued.

“Of course,” the Pandrilite conceded. “However, we can send out a subspace message either way, so the Federation will be warned about the Nuyyad even if the
Stargazer
is destroyed.”

“Well?” asked the second officer. “Do we go after the depot or not?”

Glances were exchanged as everyone present considered the question. It was Jomar who finally broke the silence.

“I am in favor of attacking the depot,” he said.

Vigo turned to Picard. “So am I.”

Ben Zoma shrugged. “I’m convinced.”

“Same here,” said Paxton, though without as much enthusiasm.

Simenon shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll grant you, the Magnians give us an edge in a fight—and so do Jomar’s vidrion-laced shields. But it’s not
that
big an edge.”

“I’m with Simenon,” said Cariello. “I was on the receiving end of a Nuyyad advantage once. I don’t look forward to being there again.”

That left Greyhorse.

As the others looked to him, he frowned at the scrutiny. “I’m no tactician, you understand. However, I too have to agree with Mr. Simenon. Enhanced shields, sensors, and tractor beams don’t inspire much confidence when stacked against an indeterminate number of enemy ships.”

Picard nodded. “Thank you for your input.” He swept the table with a glance. “All of you.”

“You’re welcome,” said the engineer, his ruby eyes gleaming. “But what are you going to do?”

The second officer looked at him. “I have not been swayed from my original inclination,” he noted. “We will break orbit and head for the depot as soon as I can coordinate the details with Mr. Williamson.”

Simenon snorted. “Captain Ruhalter was the same way.”

Picard turned to him, his eyes flashing with restrained emotion. “And what does that mean?”

The engineer returned his glare. “He had an opinion when he walked into a meeting, and he had an opinion when he walked out—and as I recall, they were always the same.”

The second officer seemed to take the remark in stride. “I had a great deal of respect for Captain Ruhalter, as you are no doubt aware. However, he and I are by no means the same. When I come into a meeting, Mr. Simenon, it is with an open mind.”

The Gnalish wasn’t the type to let a matter go if he felt strongly about it. But to Greyhorse’s surprise, he let
this
one go. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said.

Picard nodded, clearly satisfied with Simenon’s response. Then he turned to the others. “You are all dismissed,” he told them.

As the doctor pushed his chair back and got up, he couldn’t help wishing that the second officer had some secret weapon he hadn’t informed them of. He was still wishing that as he left the room and returned to sickbay.

As the doors to his quarters whispered closed behind him, Picard made his way to his workstation, sat down and established contact with a terminal elsewhere on the ship.

A moment later, Ben Zoma’s face appeared on the screen. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he quipped.

“Well?” asked Picard, ignoring his friend’s remark. “What did you think of my performance?”

Ben Zoma shrugged. “I thought they bought it.”

“You don’t think any of them were suspicious?”

“Not at all. I think they believe that you’re determined to attack the supply depot.” Ben Zoma smiled. “For a moment, even I believed it, and I was in on the game from the start.”

The second officer nodded. “So far, so good. Now let’s hope the saboteur takes the bait.”

In truth, he had no intention of attacking the supply depot. The only reason he had announced his desire to do so was to encourage the saboteur to rig another command junction.

That was what he or she had done the last two times a confrontation with the Nuyyad was imminent. With luck, the saboteur would be moved to give a repeat performance.

Except this time, Picard would have Vigo monitoring every command junction in the ship, looking for anyone who might want to crawl into a Jefferies tube when no one was looking. And when they found that person, they would have their saboteur.

Or so the theory went.

“The question,” said Ben Zoma, “is how far are we willing to go with this charade? Halfway to the depot? Three quarters of the way?”

The second officer posed a question of his own. “And what will we do if no one has been tripped up by then?”

“You’re
the acting captain,” his friend reminded him.

“So I am,” Picard acknowledged, his demeanor as grave as the situation demanded. “And
as
the acting captain, I think I’ll worry about it when the time comes.”

Greyhorse sat at his desk and tried to focus on the results of his psilosynine research. But try as he might, he couldn’t keep his mind on them. He was thinking about Gerda Asmund again.

The doctor wondered what she thought about the idea of their going into battle. Was the Klingon in her looking forward to the challenge? Or was she as concerned about the prospect of facing all those ships as Greyhorse himself was?

He wished he could come up with something to make it a more even battle—and not just for the positive effect it might have on the outcome of their mission. A contribution like that would make Gerda notice him. It might even earn him her respect.

The medical officer dismissed the notion with a deep-throated sound of disgust. Who am I kidding? he asked himself. He wasn’t an engineer, as so many others had been in his family. He didn’t have the expertise to add anything to the
Stargazer’
s arsenal.

He was just a doctor. He could treat the wounded as they were brought into sickbay, but he couldn’t do anything about the odds of their getting hurt in the first place.

The only battle he had ever won was on a chessboard, back in medical school. His first-year roommate, a gregarious and energetic man named Slattery, had taught him how to play the game—not the modern three-dimensional version, but the original.

At first, Slattery had beaten him every time. Then, little by little, Greyhorse had given him more of a run for his money. Finally, just before spring break, he managed to checkmate Slattery’s king.

He remembered the man’s reaction with crystal clarity. “Damn,” Slattery had said with undisguised wonder and admiration, “when did you turn into a mindreader?”

The doctor’s eyes were drawn to the series of chemical reactions represented on his computer screen, each of which played a part in the creation of psilosynine. If he had been born with such a neurotransmitter in his brain, he might have been a
real
mindreader.