By Nathan Warner
Commander Alex Braddock finds himself in the middle of a daring clandestine mission in the Romulan Neutral Zone
“Keep us above 10 GPa!” Commander Alex Braddock growled at the Lieutenant next to him, who was piloting their shuttle a little carelessly through the dense atmosphere of this remote gas giant planet. Alex had noticed the pressure readings were slowly creeping up and the Lieutenant seemed distracted. Even with shields, the shuttle couldn’t withstand the pressure from the 24,000 km of hydrogen and helium above them. They’d only met a few hours before and Alex was trying to remember the young man’s name. Bartman? Bartam? Bartan – it was Peter Bartan.
“Yes…Yes, Sir,” Bartan replied, adjusting his helm controls to compensate for the drift. Alex softened his expression a little.
“Just keep our nose level,” he commented, “We want to find that missing Federation transport but also remain in one piece.” Bartman didn’t reply, and Alex could tell something was on the Lieutenant’s mind. “Anything wrong?” he asked, returning his attention to the lateral sensor array that had been configured into the shuttle space behind them.
Bartman hesitated for a few seconds, but finally gave in to what was bothering him.
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?” he asked. Alex winced. It really wasn’t the time to get into this young Lieutenant’s insecurities, but he also appreciated honesty.
“Permission granted,” he replied.
“Thank you, Sir,” Bartan said, noticeably relieved to get something off his chest, “I just don’t understand this mission, Sir. I was reassigned in the middle a delicate experiment in Planetary Sciences on my ship – that’s the Nebula class in orbit…”
“Which one?” Alex interrupted, breaking up the earnestness in the Lieutenant’s voice, “There are now two Nebula class ships in orbit, Lieutenant.” Bartan looked confused for a second.
“Oh…I didn’t know,” he said, “Well, my ship is the U.S.S. Cousteau, but I was assigned to your Galaxy class – I didn’t catch its name – just saw it out the window of Planetary Sciences as we pulled into orbit of this planet. But, I wasn’t given any sort of explanation for my reassignment – just told to beam over and report to the Shuttlebay.”
“Yes, orders can be quite frustrating sometimes, Lieutenant,” Alex interjected, “but they are almost always for good reasons.” Bartan nodded.
“I understand that, Sir, but then there are some anomalies bothering me.”
“Such as?” Alex asked. Bartan looked at his commanding officer sideways and then lowered his voice.
“Sir, this shuttle is marked ‘Berman - 1701-D’ as belonging to the U.S.S. Enterprise,” he whispered, “but when I walked into your ship’s Main Shuttlebay to meet up with you, I saw the crew renaming it – the designation had been ‘Phoenix - 1914’ - I don’t even recognize that designation! What’s more, I know the ship I met you on isn’t the Enterprise – I served with Captain Picard briefly last month and the Main Shuttlebay of that Galaxy class is configured differently.”
Alex sighed inwardly. The conversation had become too distracting and he needed to snuff this Ensign’s curiosity while it was still only a spark. “I hate to disappoint you, Lieutenant,” he said, “but my ship is the U.S.S. Incidence, a Nebula class like yours – I don’t belong to that Galaxy class and I was told to beam over and meet you in the Main Shuttlebay, same as you. Remember, this mission is a matter of Federation security. If your Captain failed to inform you of that, consider yourself informed now. But if it is any comfort to you, I am not privy to the details of the situation, either.” That was partly true – he didn’t know everything about what was going on. Ensign Bartan straightened at his console.
“Aye, Sir,” he said – his sense of duty taking the place of his curiosity.
At that moment, the lateral sensor array lit something up. Alex exercised his fingers across the sensor console, focusing the powerful array on the object below.
“Bring us around for another pass,” Alex commanded while reaching out to the Shuttle Hermes, which was bringing up the search grid to their starboard. The face of Commander Draxel popped onto the screen.
“Yes, Commander Braddock?” he asked.
“We’ve detected a 3.4 square centimeter piece of Duranium at 34 10.165, 10 -12.313,” Alex reported, “This could be what we’re looking for. We’re going to do another pass to see if we can’t get any more data.” Draxel nodded.
“Very, good, Commander,” he said, “We’ll return to orbit and meet you there – the pressure is getting a bit much for us.” As the Hermes blasted up and away out of the atmosphere, the “Berman” banked to Starboard and Ensign Bartan took them as low as the shuttle could handle. Alex gathered a high resolution scan of the Duranium segment on the nickel/iron core below and then nodded to the Ensign.
“We’ve got as much as we can,” he said, “Let’s head back up.” He sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. It had been an intense 12 hours so far. Had it only been 12 hours? It seemed like a week!
He could hardly believe that only 12 hours ago, he’d been eating breakfast aboard his research vessel, the U.S.S. Incidence – a spatial mapping Nebula class starship. He’d just finished his coffee when Captain Andre DeGalle called him up to the Briefing Room. The trip to the bridge took forever, and he walked in as a Starfleet Officer was explaining something to the Captain over the comms system. From his uniform, Alex could tell he was an Admiral.
“Time is of the essence, Andre,” the Admiral stressed, “We can’t let the Romulans get their hands on this.” DeGalle nodded and turned to the Commander.
“Ah, Alex,” he said, motioning for him to take a seat, “we have a delicate assignment from Starfleet Command.”
“Delicate and classified!” the Admiral added.
“Yes,” the Captain nodded, “Admiral Ramirez here will brief you.” The Admiral seemed to size Alex up with a slightly disapproving frown.
“Understand, Commander,” he began, “we wouldn’t normally read you into a situation like this, but your expertise in neutrino scanning has brought you to our attention, and we haven’t much time, so we’ve decided to give you the full picture, so you don’t waste our time asking questions later – understand, before we continue, that the information we share with you is highly sensitive and cannot be repeated to anyone else – any such divulgement will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” Alex nodded.
“Anything you need,” he said, hiding a nervous swallow badly.
“Very well,” the Admiral continued, “Less than an hour ago, our gravitational telescope array near Anteras detected a slight perturbation in the gravity fields of a region of space straddling the Romulan Neutral Zone. The sensor readings were indicative of a Federation warp core explosion. All starships in the region were accounted for, save one – the U.S.S. Scorpione, a Galaxy Class Starship which was operating inside the Neutral Zone…” Alex raised his hand slightly.
“I’m sorry, Admiral,” he said, “did you say INSIDE the Neutral Zone?” Ramirez frowned on the interruption.
“Yes, Commander,” he replied in a voice that warned he wouldn’t tolerate any more interruptions, “the Scorpione was on a classified survey mission inside the Neutral Zone.” Alex turned questioningly to Captain DeGalle who shook his head slightly at the Commander’s inquisitive gaze and gestured back to the Admiral.
“As I was saying,” Ramirez continued, “The Nebula class U.S.S. Cousteau was dispatched immediately to the last known coordinates of the Scorpione and with a little help triangulating the blast location from three separate arrays that also picked up the perturbation, the Cousteau found some of the debris of the ship’s Star Drive. They also located a weak impulse trail that led into a nearby gas-giant planet in the Azorian System. We believe this planet, AZORIA 8, is the crash site of the Scorpione’s Saucer section, but the Cousteau’s sensors have been unable to locate it. That is where you come in.” The Admiral finished and leaned forward towards Alex as if he was going to reach through the screen and rest his hand commandingly on his shoulders.
Alex had nearly 100 questions rising through his thoughts, but one look from the Captain boiled the rest away for the moment.
“What do you need?” he asked. The Admiral nodded approval and sat back in his chair.
“Your ship will rendezvous with the U.S.S. Scythe, which will escort you into the Neutral Zone to AZORIA 8 where you will assist the search and rescue. If anyone inquires to your activity, you are to tell them you are conducting a search and rescue for a Federation transport – the U.S.S. Dallas that experienced a navigational failure and crashed in the Neutral Zone. Understood?” Both DeGalle and Alex nodded slowly. The Admiral turned to DeGalle. “I appreciate your help in this situation, Andre,” he said, “Ramirez out.” The screen blanked out and Alex took a deep breath.
“What is going on, Captain?” he asked. DeGalle shrugged his shoulders.
“It is a simple search and rescue, Alex,” he said. Alex nodded to the blank screen.
“But what were they doing in the Neutral Zone?” he persisted. DeGalle stood up from his chair.
“It really isn’t any of our business,” the Captain said, “We have our orders.”
The U.S.S. Incidence dropped out of warp near Barradas III and met up with the U.S.S. Scythe. They didn’t receive a visual greeting, only a written message relayed directly to their command consoles containing the mission’s parameters and some directions, such as orders to remodulate their deflector to a new configuration. Alex felt this was all a bit backhanded, so he ran a quick passive scan of the vessel in retaliation. As the sensors absorbed the Scythe’s energy signature, Alex looked to his Captain in surprise.
“That ship registers as the U.S.S. Enterprise to our sensors!” he whispered. To their eyes, through the viewscreen, it was clearly a very different type of Galaxy class starship – having what appeared to be a long weapon’s module slung under the Saucer and also two weapons pylons vectoring away from the bridge on the top. “They must be using some sort of shield and deflector modulation to alter its appearance to sensors,” Alex commented to the Captain, “It looks more like a warship, than a rescue vessel.” DeGalle nodded.
“Remember where we are going, Commander,” he said evenly. After they had remodulated their deflector – turning them into what looked like freighter to sensors – they received coordinates for AZORIA 8 from the Scythe and they warped away from Barradas III into the Neutral Zone. Alex noted that the Scythe took up the rear and was emitting some sort of masking field behind them, which appeared to be scattering their warp trail. In three hours, they dropped out of warp near AZORIA 8 – a beautiful blue-tinted gas-giant planet with about a dozen moons in orbit. The Scythe signaled them to take up position by the planet’s first moon, a large, rocky, gray orb of iron and silicates. As they arrived at the coordinates, Alex let out a low gasp. In the shadows of the moon, a large Federation dry dock was under construction. It didn’t register to sensors – probably due to the dampening field being generated by a constellation of Federation buoys scattered around the structure. A cloud of small worker bees were rapidly making progress in constructing it. The Starfleet Corp of Engineers at their finest! Captain DeGalle was also impressed by the scene.
“This is no small operation!” he declared. The Con beeped and Lt. Harriman turned from her station.
“Sir, Vice Admiral Agrev is signaling from the Scythe,” she said.
“On screen,” DeGalle ordered. The screen blinked and a shrewd and calculating Andorian met their gaze. Alex felt the stab of his icy eyes, measuring them under his gaze. The second thing Alex noted was the Admiral’s black communicator – an odd change to the insignia that he didn’t recognize.
“Captain DeGalle,” Agrev nodded, “You are cleared to orbit the planet and begin your scan for the Scorpione.”
“Understood,” DeGalle replied, “Our first step will be to move into a scanning orbit.” Agrev cocked his head to the left – his antennas jutted forward and then relaxed.
“Very well, let me know the moment you locate anything, no matter how unusual,” he said. Agrev blinked away and Alex retreated to the science station on the side of the Command chairs as the U.S.S. Incidence moved beneath his feet, pulling them into an orbit of AZORIA 8.
“Firing up the array,” he said, referring to the large delta-shaped sensor platform above the Nebula’s Saucer. The powerful array sensed neutrinos backscatter through the entire planet and was capable of detecting the slightest perturbations in their motion, comparing that to their catalogued interactions with known materials, and also producing a detailed topographical map. He frowned as the first stream of data came in. This planet was very private – the combination of unknown core elements and unusual background radiation limited the sensors, but he should still be able to detect the clear signature of a ship’s Duranium and Tritanium hull. For nearly half an hour, the Incidence maintained a careful orbit, constraining their revolution around the planet to their rate of scan. As they neared the initial starting point of their scanning, Alex shook his head at his console.
“Captain, we’ve completed the scan, but I’m not picking up any Duranium or Tritanium,” he reported, pulling up the topographical analysis instead, “However, I am seeing half a dozen features on the planet’s nickel-iron core that could be impact trails from a crashed vessel…or large meteorites.” Captain DeGalle came over to his station.
“You’re not getting any ship alloys?” he asked. Alex shook his head.
“No, which is impossible if there is a ship down there,” he replied. DeGalle returned to his chair.
“Hail the Scythe,” he said and waited only a few seconds before Admiral Agrev blinked onto the screen. “Admiral Agrev,” DeGalle said, “we can’t seem to locate a starship on the planet – are you sure this is where it went down?” The Andorian almost looked as if he’d been expecting the development.
“Yes, we are positive this is the location,” he said, “but you should know that the Scorpione was an experimental vessel. It had a ‘special’ hull treatment to reduce sensor visibility. It is likely this is fooling your sensors.” Alex found this hard to believe – the Incidence’s array was the most sensitive in the fleet! Then it dawned on him that the Scorpione must have been a spy ship of some sort. DeGalle shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I’m not sure what we can do then,” he said. “Our sensors are the most powerful in the fleet, but all they’ve turned up are six to seven possible impact sites.” The Andorian’s eyes caught Alex at the sensor station.
“Commander Braddock,” he said, icily, “What is the smallest footprint of Duranium you can locate from orbit?” Alex checked a few numbers on his console.
“In a gas giant of this type from this altitude, we can only detect deposits that are over 3 square meters,” he replied, adding some ice of his own to his voice. The Andorian’s antennas twitched appreciatively.
“Do you have a mobile lateral array?” he asked. Alex nodded. “Yes,” he said, “for low-level geological inspections of terrestrial planets.”
“If you took a shuttle craft down into the atmosphere with the lateral array, would that increase your resolution?” the Andorian asked. Alex cocked his head, calculations blurring through his mind.
“Yes,” he admitted, “I think I could increase our sensor resolution to around a few square centimeters – but we don’t have any shuttles rated for the pressures.” Agrev’s antennas relaxed slightly and he gestured behind him.
“We do,” he said, “I’ve just made arrangements to beam you and your equipment over to the Scythe. Meet Lt. Bartan in the Main Shuttlebay – you’ll find a shuttle waiting for you.” The screen returned to the majestic scene of the enormous planet, leaving Alex and Captain DeGalle more perplexed than ever.
“Well, Commander,” Captain DeGalle said, motioning to the turbolift, “You are the man of the hour.”
The transport seemed to take longer than normal, but when he finally materialized on the transporter pad of the Scythe, he was instantly struck by how cold it was.
“Need a jacket?” A young ensign asked, bouncing up from behind the console – her curly black hair continued bouncing after she came to a stop.
“Ah…yes, actually,” Alex said – he could see his breath.
“Sorry, Sir,” she smiled, “but Admiral Agrev likes the temperature closer to Andoria – it takes a little getting used to.” While the Ensign reached for a coat, Alex reached for his tricorder, but it wasn’t at his side.
“Excuse me, Ensign…” he asked, fishing for her name.
“Ensign Wilders, Sir,” she smiled, “Ensign Lydia Wilders.”
“Ensign Wilders,” he said with a wry smile, “where is my tricorder?”
“Oh, that!” she said more seriously, “It’s standard ship procedure to screen out all implements from incoming personnel. It was returned to your ship. You’ll be receiving a new tricorder in Main Shuttlebay.”
“That’s not standard Starfleet procedure, Ensign,” Alex observed.
“No, you’re right,” she said, evasively, “And if you have any questions about this ship’s procedures, I’ve been instructed to direct you to Commander Draxel.” Alex sighed, taking the black coat from her.
“Very well, Ensign Wilders,” he said, “Can you direct me to the Main Shuttlebay?”
“Officer Plumet is outside waiting for you, Sir,” she said apologetically. At that, the doors opened and a burly security officer in a black uniform leaned inside the Transporter room. What is going on? Alex thought. And what is all this…oddness? That was the best word he could use to describe the strange behavior of everyone associated with this ship and this recovery mission. The security officer motioned towards the door.
“Commander Braddock, please follow me,” he said. Alex briefly contemplated making this unprofessional behavior an issue, but reflecting on their situation near Romulan space, he decided against it.
“Very well,” he sighed again, exiting into the corridor. He blinked under the odd lighting – everything had a bluish tint. Everything about this ship was just “off.” He tried his best to keep up with Officer Plumet, but he was still a good five paces behind him when they reached the Shuttlebay doors.
“In you go, Sir,” Plummet said with a voice blanched of emotion. The voice of a soldier, Alex reflected and then entered through the door after Plummet entered a code. The Main Shuttlebay was vast – an impressive feature of any Galaxy Class starship and a testament to its versatility as an explorer. But the Scythe clearly had other things on its mind. Aside from the few shuttles here and there, the bay was filled with what looked like attack craft of all sorts – drop-ships, troop transports, fighters, and ground assault vehicles. What is this ship doing in Starfleet? He wondered.
Suddenly, amid all the tactical machinery, he saw the familiar shape of a lone Type 6 shuttle near the open bay door. AZORIA 8 filled the view behind with soft blue pastels. The Bay was bustling with Starfleet officers – all wearing those curious black Communicators. Around the shuttle, he saw two Lieutenants busily moving his lateral sensor array pod to the back ramp. Perhaps this was an opportunity to get some answers. He spotted a black communicator on an engineering tray and before he knew what he was doing, he swiped it, exchanging it on his uniform and holding his own in his palm. Now, he boldly approached the shuttle. The men looked up expectantly as he approached.
“How’s the array coming?” he asked casually. The tall, lanky one nodded.
“It’s coming along, Sir,” he said, “we’ll be about 5 more minutes and it’ll be ready.” Suddenly both their Communicators went off simultaneously and they both tapped them instinctively.
“Lt. Pouris, here,” the lanky man said, while his stout companion almost bellowed,
“Lt. Ampen!” The same voice came over both communicators – the voice of Admiral Agrev. “Are you ready to launch yet?” The Lieutenants glanced uneasily at each other.
“In another 7 minutes or so, Sir,” they reported.
“Hurry it up, gentlemen,” Agrev said icily, “We’re running against the clock.”
“Understood sir!” Ampen responded and they both tapped their communicators off. “Boy, he’s in a snit!” Ampers grumbled. Pouris shook his head.
“You’d be too if you had the day he’s been having!” he said. The men retreated into the shuttle to begin installing the lateral sensor array inside the back compartment. Alex ran his hand across the designation: “Phoenix – 1911.” He leaned up against the side of the shuttle waiting amid the bustle. It was hard to believe they were deep inside the Neutral Zone. He looked to his right, and gazed through the enormous forcefield, down on the mighty gas-giant planet. There’s a ship down there, He thought, Those poor souls. But what were they doing out here in the first place? He sighed and was reaching to remove the mysterious black communicator from his uniform when he heard the Lieutenants conversing inside the shuttle.
“Did they sweep up the Scorpione’s debris field?” Ampen asked.
“Aye, it took a long while, though,” Pouris muttered. “A collision like that is liable to send fragments clear out of the system. We didn’t find as much as we expected, and the Admiral traced a recent comet ingress past the 3rd moon that had pulled a bunch with it as it left.”
“What a mess!” Ampen reflected. “Who would have thought a Romulan Warbird was sneaking around the moons of AZORIA 8! And what are the odds that two massive starships would collide like that?”
“Pretty slim,” Pouris said, “so I’m thinking the Romulans or the Scorpione must have sensed something from the other and moved in for a closer look, only to cause a catastrophic collision.” Ampen let out a low whistle.
“Still, you have to admit those new Anechoic hull tiles must be pretty good if they made the Scorpions so invisible to sensors scans that the Romulans couldn’t detect what was right in front of them – and visible the naked eye!”
“Yeah,” Pouris grunted, “but look how hard those tiles make a rescue operation! Not even the best science vessels in Starfleet can locate them!”
“Maybe they’re not down there,” Ampen suggested.
“Oh, they’re down there, alright – the impulse trail was clear as starlight,” Pouris replied. “You know they scuttled the ship rather than risk it falling into Romulan hands – that’s what that badge on your uniform means, my friend – your life for the cause. Section 31 for life.”
“No matter how short that is,” Ampen laughed and then straightened from lifting a sensor component into place. “More like Section 13! Still, the fragments from the D’deridex will put Starfleet intelligence a few light years ahead of the Tal Shiar. I heard they even recovered some working command pads with Tal Shiar intelligence codes.”
“Well, it’ll all be a wash if we have to leave our stealth ship behind on this planet and the Romulans succeed in raising her,” Pouris muttered, “And what’s more, they could be out there right now, cloaked watching us, attacking at any moment.”
“Nah, I don’t think their sensor buoys are sensitive enough to have detected the explosion,” Ampen said. “But even if they do send a fleet, this is the Scythe we’re talking about – and Admiral Agrev. I’ve never seen an Andorian flinch - plus he’s crafty as a blizzard on Rura Pente. He’d be able to punch out a whole Romulan fleet!” He paused as he snapped the last strut into the bulkhead from the Array. “And what a surprise they’ll get if they do attack,” he chuckled, “thinking we’re merely the Federation’s flagship, instead of an unregistered, classified battle dreadnaught.” Pouris straightened and nodded at their work.
“Alright, done,” he said, “We’ve just got to change the shuttle’s designation.” Alex quickly shuffled to the front of the shuttle as the Lieutenants scrambled out the back, and he stepped over to a nearby dropship, pretending to check its sub-systems. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard – a clandestine Starfleet department dabbling in classified technology, covering up the collision of a top-secret Federation Starship with a cloaked Romulan Warbird? Was this really the sort of thing that went on in the shadows of the Quadrant? He turned around to see the Lieutenants finishing up their renaming of the shuttle. He read the words and caught his breath. They had changed the shuttle to “Berman – 1701-D.”
What kind of deception was this? Before the officers left the shuttle for Engineering, he overheard Pourtis mention something about the value of misdirection. As they walked away, Alex noticed a young Lt. walking up to the shuttle. He was wearing a standard Starfleet insignia. Must be Lt. Bartan, he thought. He quickly exchanged his black Communicator for his normal one and approached him. The young man was staring in disbelief at the shuttle’s designation.
“You must be Lt. Bartan,” Alex said, stepping next to him. The Lt. stood at attention.
“Yes, Sir,” he said and let the silence take away his roiling thoughts. Alex hesitated with all the awkwardness, but finally motioned to the shuttle.
“Well?” he said, “Shall we get under way?” Bartan nodded curtly and led into the shuttle, stepping carefully around the lateral array secured against the Starboard bulkhead. The Scythe’s officers had attached a cord overhead from bulkhead to bulkhead. What’s that for? Alex wondered. Without a word, the Lt. fired up the shuttle’s systems and they lifted off. Alex tapped his Communicator.
“Commander Braddock to Admiral Agrev?” he said. There was a slight moment of static as they passed through the forcefield and into space.
“Yes, Commander?” Agrev replied.
“We are under way, Admiral,” Alex said.
“Good,” Agrev acknowledged, “Meet up with the Hermes and the Midas – they are already conducting a standard sweep in the atmosphere. I’m sending you the projected coordinates of the crash-zone based on the impulse trail trajectory.” The data popped onto his screen and Alex motioned to Bartan to take them down. The Lt. tapped his controls and the “Berman” vectored forward over the Scythe’s nacelles down into the turbulent atmosphere of AZORIA 8. They punched through the ionosphere, but after that the ride got really rough – even with deflectors to maximum and inertial dampers turned all the way over. The blue hues mixed around them, as they rushed through the hydrogen clouds. Alex thought he was going to lose his lunch, but steadied himself until they flattened out around 9GPa of over pressure. They had dropped just below the haze and could faintly see the rocky substrate 20 kilometers below. A proximity alert went off and Alex could see a Starfleet shuttle approaching their position. A hail came through.
“This is Commander Draxel of the shuttle Hermes,” a voice came over the comms, “We’ve been ordered to escort you and help in the search.”
“Understood, Hermes,” Alex replied, getting up from his seat and squeezing into the back to fire up the lateral array, “We’ll have to descend as far as we can to get the most accurate scan.” He tried not to think of the immense pressure on the other side of the hull – then he noticed the cord, which had been taut over his head – now it was sagging into a low U-shape. The pressure outside had to be incredible to do that to a Duranium hull reinforced with Tritanium! Alex returned to his seat.
“Take us to 9.8 GPa,” he said, “but keep us above 10GPa.” Bartan nodded and the shuttle descended. The array began collecting detailed scans as they flew a grid pattern over the suspected crash zone. Alex tried not to look at the cord behind them, sagging to an unbelievable shape – he was feeling a little claustrophobic. It seemed like hours went by as Lt. Bartan shared his insecurities about the mission. Alex shared the Lieutenant’s frustration, but knew higher stakes were involved, even if he didn’t like it. That’s when they picked up the tiny fragment of Duranium. It was located in one of the disturbed topographical “channels” that Alex suspected could be an impact trail. Once they had collected as much information as possible, they headed back to orbit.
“Braddock to Admiral Agrev?” Alex called. There was no reply. He repeated his hail, but again nothing. When they came out of the haze and into the ionosphere, the Scythe was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the enormous Drydock was hovering into position above them. Alex’s hail was answered. A woman with long blonde tresses popped up on his screen.
“Commander Braddock,” she acknowledged, breathlessly, “I’m Captain Sarah Wentmore. We’re sorry to have kept you waiting, but Admiral Agrev left orbit an hour ago on urgent business. We’re on a tight schedule, so please upload your finding’s coordinates to the Global Explorer dry dock and stand by to the port side of the facility.” Alex wondered what had happened in his absence to add urgency to everything. He transmitted the data package as quickly as his fingers would allow and then waited, staring at the dry dock questioningly. What were they going to do? He wondered. Suddenly, a tractor beam fired up on the dry dock and several large columns of discs began to shuttle out from beneath the cage. They were rapidly stacked one on top of the other until they formed a single column probably 500m long.
“As if that’ll reach?” Bartan muttered. As if in answer, the tractor beam from Global Explorer began lowering the column into the atmosphere. As it reached its maximum range, the top disc in the column stayed in its grasp, activated its own tractor beam, and lowered the remaining column of discs.
“Each disc is a mobile tractor beam emitter!” Alex mumbled, “They’re extending a telescopic boom composed of tractor beam emitters!” He’d never seen anything like it – it must have been specially constructed just for this mission. Bartan was staring down with him in disbelief. In less than a day, the Starfleet Corp of Engineers had built an ingenious grappling boom that would extend to the rocky surface and recover the Scorpione! But could they do it? This wasn’t a small Federation transport – it was a Galaxy class Saucer! The boom vanished into the atmosphere as the tractor beams shimmered with blue energy. Captain Wentmore flickered back on his screen.
“We’ll keep you in the loop, Commander, as we try to locate your find,” she said before turning to an officer behind her in the large control center of the dry dock. “Signal our ships to form up – we have less than an hour before those Romulan probes pull into the system!”
“I’m sorry, Captain – Romulan probes?” Alex asked. Sarah blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.
“It seems the Romulans think one of their ships has gone missing,” she grimaced, “so they’ve sent a fleet of probes into this section of the Neutral Zone – we have about 45 minutes!” Bartan pointed out the cockpit and Alex followed his gaze. The U.S.S. Incidence and the U.S.S. Cousteau were descending on either side of the dry dock – their graceful curves lending symmetry to the scene. They came to a stop with thrusters and held their stations.
“Okay, we’re reaching the bottom,” Sarah reported. “Optical sensors are picking something up.” She stared into her screen and adjusted the pattern recognition algorithms to filter through the smog. Suddenly the computer chimed and a Galaxy class Saucer popped into full resolution. “Got it!” she smiled, “It looks like your coordinates were right, Commander – you landed us right over the Shuttlebay.” She fired up the base tractor array to a wide beam and spread it over the saucer’s upper surface, but she straightened and looked puzzledly at her screen.
“Hmm, that’s odd,” she muttered, “It isn’t registering that it is holding anything.” Alex looked at Bartan – how much could he say with the Lieutenant present? He cleared his throat.
“Captain, I think the unique nature of the hull might be tricking your tractor beam diagnostics,” he said, “Try retracting the base emitter array and observe the effect.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Commander?” she said, shaking her head, “All this cloak and dagger nonsense is really getting to me…Very well, we’ll give it a try.” She began retracting the boom and the command center behind her began to shudder as the dry dock gently swayed and sank a few meters towards the planet. “Confirmed!” she exclaimed, catching her breath, “We’ve definitely got a big one on the hook!” She hailed the Incidence and Captain DeGalle popped up on her viewscreen.
“Captain, give us a lift, will you?” she said.
“Aye,” DeGalle smiled. Outside, the Incidence and Cousteau cast their tractor beams over the dry dock and began reversing thrusters, lifting the dock slowly up. The Global Explorer began retracting the boom again and the tractor beams pulsated under the strain – pulsated but held. Slowly – very slowly, the boom tractored itself up, carefully managing the vibrations that sent tremors though the structure of the dry dock. On screen, turbulence was rocking the command center.
“Almost there!” Sarah whispered, “Just a little bit more.”
“Come on, come one!” Alex muttered with her. Their eyes were fixed down below to the top of the atmospheric haze, hoping to see a sign - anything. Suddenly, a dark oval began materializing into shape at the end of the telescopic boom. And then, it was fully revealed – a Galaxy class Saucer at last – the U.S.S. Scorpione! Like the head of an Andorian mushroom, dangling from its stem, the ship was quickly coming into view as the boom accelerated it towards the dock.
Instinctively, Alex turned the shuttle’s sensors on the Scorpione, bathing it in active scans, but only quiet, peaceful, uninteresting space returned the favor. Was it even there? He stood up and gazed down on the vessel rising up to meet them. An oddly prominent Aztec pattern seemed to be adhered to the surface of the hull – the anechoic tiling that had been responsible for this mess – and the secret Starfleet wanted to keep that way. As it rose before them, he could see the break line in its hull from the massive pressure that had cracked its shell. Everything else looked entirely intact – including all the escape pods. There was no way anyone could have survived.
Alex was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of the dead crew still trapped inside the ship, freed from the planet, but probably floating lifelessly inside even now. He’d almost forgot about them since no one had mentioned them and he’d been so focused on finding the ship. He felt sick, and desperately tried to hold back tears as the starship tomb passed before his eyes. He’d never been on the scene of a catastrophe before and it struck him hard in the gut. Within those seconds, the Scorpione had been nestled under the protecting wings of the Global Explorer and it was secured for transport. Captain Wentmore sent a group hail out to all ships.
“Everyone, form up and tuck in behind AZORIA 8’s first moon!” she said, glancing at her screen, “Romulan probes are entering the system!” With an almost violent impulse, the Incidence and Cousteau pivoted around and went to one quarter impulse, towing the Global Explorer and its precious charge back to the moon. Lt. Bartan followed suit and the “Berman” banked after them. They had just pulled into the moon’s shadow when Wentmore stiffened and stared at her tactical display of Romulan symbols flickering nearer.
“They just dropped out of warp and went active!” she cried, gesturing to her crew, “light up those dampening buoys, already! All ships, cut your engines! Turn off your sensors and lower your power settings!” Lt. Bartan flicked his console and the “Berman” went dark. Alex leaned forward, staring out the cockpit for any visual sign of the probes. Suddenly, a green light pulsed into view approaching the planet. But before it got too close, it exploded into bright red flares like old, 20th century firework. It was a starburst pattern.
“A Romulan Ema-buoy,” Bartan muttered and then caught Alex’s questioning look, “It stand for Electro-Magnetic Antenna Buoy – they’ve just deployed a net of sensors in orbit.” Alex sunk into his chair. What now? he wondered. There was no way they were going to “sneak” a fleet and a dry dock past a Romulan sensor net. And was it just his eyes or was it drifting closer?
“It’s drifting closer!” Bartan exclaimed, as if answering Alex’s thoughts, “We can’t hide – we’ll have to run for it!” At that moment, a flash of light revealed the Scythe dropping out of warp, but to the shuttle’s sensors, there was nothing there. It seemed that it too possessed the “special” hull treatment! The majestic ship quickly pulled towards them and that’s when he saw it. A majestic object following the starship’s wake.
“A comet!” Alex cried in disbelief. The Scythe had towed a comet into the system. The ship and its captive nomad passed between the Emabuoy and the fleet, masking them from the buoy’s net with the comet’s massive tail.
“Eureka!” Alex exclaimed. He hailed the Global Explorer and Sarah popped into view. “Captain Wentmore,” he said urgently, “If we’re going to go, we have to do it now! We have about 10 minutes of cover to clear out of the system!” Sarah looked at her station keeping.
“I don’t think we can do it,” she said, “this structure isn’t rated for full impulse.” Alex leaned forward, filling her screen.
“We’ll use half impulse to get you out of orbit,” he said, “and then the Incidence and Cousteau can extend their warp fields around you and we can get out of here together!” Sarah looked skeptically at him.
“It’s risky,” she said, “but your idea doesn’t have any competition at the moment.” She hesitated only a second more. “Alright, Commander, return to your ship and prepare to execute – I will contact our little fleet to prepare!” Bartan didn’t wait for Alex to give the order – he powered the “Berman” up and flung them at the U.S.S. Incidence, vectoring around the enormous aft array and flashing into the Main Shuttlebay. The landing was a rough, marked by a shower of sparks, but Alex overlooked this as the Lt.’s timing was impeccable. He tapped his communicator.
“Captain, DeGalle, we’re in!” he yelled.
“Understood, Commander,” the Captain’s voice came over the channel, and before he cut the line, Alex heard him shouting orders on the bridge.
“Fire tractor beams…initiate half impulse!” As the impulse engines flared alive, the shuttle bay groaned under the strain of towing the dry dock and its charge out of the moon’s shadow and out of orbit – carefully keeping the comet tail between them and the Romulan Emabuoy. Alex swayed on his feet as he exited the shuttle. The shuttle bay door was closing, but he could still see the Global Explorer below them – towed by the powerful tractor beams of the Incidence and the Cousteau with the Scythe taking up the rear and pushing the dock with its tractor beam. Probably masking our trails too! Alex thought. Leaving Bartan to watch his equipment, he stumbled towards the turbolift, losing his footing a couple times as the ship continued to rock and rumble.
“We’re going to fly apart!” he muttered, sensing the structural integrity field was maxed out trying to keep the hull together. He finally staggered onto the bridge and found his seat next to Captain DeGalle.
“So far, so good!” DeGalle reported to him – we’ve almost reached our waypoint to warp for home. Alex turned to the Lt. Kelly Ribal at the science station.
“Will our warp field extend around them?” he asked. She nodded, trying to keep her balance.
“I’m coordinating with the other ships!” she yelled above the noise, “We should be able to extend a large enough bubble to get everything!” Lt. Anjel turned from the Helm.
“Sir, I’ve synchronized our trajectory and warp 1 initiation with all three ships!” she shouted, trying to shut out the thousands of worried thoughts flooding her Betazoid mind from all her fellow officers. She forced herself to concentrate and turned back to look at her console, “In three...two…one, mark!” Suddenly the ship jolted as the inertial dampers hesitated for a microsecond and then they leapt into warp. Everything immediately went calm – it was almost serene. Alex relaxed his white knuckles from his armrests. Lt. Ribal turned with a smile from her station.
“Everything is optimal,” she said. DeGalle nodded and turned to the Conn.
“Hail the Global Explorer,” he commanded. Captain Wentmore answered. She had a bruise forming on her forehead and some sparks were still fluttering in the Command Center behind her, but she looked pleased with their situation.
“It worked, Commander,” she said, shaking her head at Alex, “we’re in the clear and I think we can handle upping our velocity to warp 4 – shouldn’t be more than an hour or two to Federation space.” She hesitated for a moment, restraining a blush, and then said what was on her mind. “When we get home, how about meeting for a drink?” she said. Alex grinned.
“Consider it a date!” Sarah Wentmore smiled and logged off. Alex was still smiling and then noticed the crew was looking at him.
“What?” he asked defensively. Captain DeGalle shook his head fondly.
“I’ve seen my share of officers flirting in my time, but this beats all – that love should blossom under the pressure of the greatest rescue operation in Starfleet history!”
“Oh, be quite!” Alex smiled, and then considered. “I suppose it is one for the history books,” he said. Captain DeGalle nodded.
“Yes, but not in any we’ll ever read,” he said, “I doubt anyone outside of our small circle will ever hear of the daring recovery of the U.S.S. Scorpione.”
That prediction proved true. For years afterwards, Alex scoured the Federation records for any mention of the Scorpion, the Scythe, Section 31, Admiral Agrev, or their little operation. Sarah helped him sometimes, when she wasn’t busily planning their wedding. The only thing he ever found was a record of the Global Explorer and its recovery of a Starfleet transport near Andoria – the date was the exact period for their operation. So, he and Sarah began jokingly referring to their adventure as Project “Andorian” whenever they met up with their friends from the classified mission. One day, perhaps it would materialize into the recorded stream of history – but not today.
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