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CH. 4
“Now picking up vessel debris, Commodore.”
Lieutenant Surall’s report from science roused Ford from his hot tea. He brought the drink with him, continuing to sip at it carefully as he ascended to the sensor station. “Whacha got, Science?”
“Definite refined metal alloys, sir.” She told him, not taking her eyes from the scope protruding from her console face. “Ya’wenn metallurgy. It isn’t Starfleet, and not likely any Federation design. There is little duranium and no tritanium at all. The field is quite wide…”
“Also picking up veapons fire, Keptin.” Added Nechayev. He was traversing the distance between the weapons control station to the tactical sensors console to the conn’s left rear. He conferred with the ensign there and looked back with confirmation. “Ya’venn veaponry, Keptin. This wessel vas destroyed by magnetron gunnery.”
“Any way to determine whether that weaponry belonged to Jarn’s men or the Government?” The CO asked the Russian. Nechayev shrugged and bent back to whisper to his subordinate. Ford turned back to Surall. “Any thoughts, science officer?”
Surall straightened and began to manipulate a broad array of different sensor platforms. Endeavour’s sensor suite had nearly doubled in size and complexity since the CO had taken command of her six years prior. “I am scanning for latent neutron radiation signatures of the bandwidth associated with Federation torpedoes, Skipper.” She explained to him. “Likely this will take some time. I believe the vessel in question was destroyed while still at warp. The debris field is quite long and widely distributed.”
The commodore nodded and turned away to let her work. They were still at warp factor four. Within twenty seconds, the ship would be outside the range of most of the equipment Surall had just employed. He inclined his eyes to the helmsman. “Helm, secure from warp speed. Make your speed ahead one quarter impulse power.”
“Slow to one-quarter impulse, aye!” Bronstien rapped off. The sound of the mighty engines deflated smoothly and the ever present oscillations in the deck eased noticeably. John glanced back a few seconds after that. “Controls answer ahead one-quarter.”
“Very good.” Ford turned back to the science officer. Davenport was now also loitering in the vicinity. Chevy found himself smiling when he probably shouldn’t have been. “Who do you think won, XO?”
Ronald shrugged as though the question were academic. “Don’t know, Skipper. Guess we’ll find out when we meet the winner.”
Ford grunted. He went back to drinking at the much too hot tea his young yeoman had brought him. He hissed aloud when his tongue protested the heat. Ron chuckled.
“She likes to scald the hair off your tongue, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe she’s a Petty Officer already. You know she’s only twenty!”
Davenport’s brows arched. He’d reviewed Yeoman Ailee Pershing’s file, of course, but hadn’t likely noted her age. “I know she’s more than checked out for security. Her phaser rifle percentile is better than yours. With our without the scope. I’m not sure how she got assigned to Administrations.”
“Some dumb-ass move of former Commodore Shiloah’s.” Ford groused about their former nemesis. “She was Starbase personnel before I assigned her to the Endeavour billet. Her jacket still doesn’t show how she made E3 in under two years. It’s been done, but generally someone makes a note of how.”
Ron leaned in on some note or another on the junior science officer’s screen. “You could ask.”
Ford’s mouth pursed with a bobbing sort of nod. Surall turned about to face both officers.
“Got something?” Ford inquired.
“Negative as yet, sirs.” Surall replied. Just the slightest amount of irritation was evident behind her brown eyes as she looked from one officer to the other. “And fewer findings are likely given your proximity to this station and the volume of verbal traffic taking place.”
Ford’s hands came up defensively, sloshing just a bit of tea onto his wrist and burning him. “Oooo-ooo! Okay! We talk too much. You can have the deck.”
The two senior officers rendered the science area back to its proper master and retired to the safety of the StratCom in the aft alcove. There, Ford relieved himself of his blazing tea, sitting it in a cup slot on the station’s side. They began to ply their minds on the study of the starsystem.
“The last ion trail keeps heading in for the inner planetary ring.” Ronald noted, pointing at the trail highlighted by science. “Almost like he’s still being pursued.”
“Maybe the destroyed craft deployed their version of a fighter group?” Came from the commodore, who was still busy sucking on his little burn. “The survivor’s trail is mighty weak. He didn’t get off without taking a lot of damage.”
Davenport seemed to agree. “Maybe he’s making for the inner core to set down for repair? Do we know if those things are landable?”
“Probably. Even the old NX-Class could maneuver in atmo.” Ford zoomed the screen down on the inner sphere of planets. The two Class M worlds were within, as was the L-Class. The fourth of the five inner worlds had a red marker showing its registry for future colonization. The ion trail was far too diffuse to be tracked into the system core from Endeavour’s current distance. Stellar radiation was making detailed scanning harder as well. Ford pointed to planets four and five. “Were I him, and my ship was on its last legs…I make for either the outer M or the L here. They’re both on this end of the system. The other M-Classed planet is clear on the other end of the solar rotation. Hell, a Ya’wenn ship might not even detect it.”
“Agreed.” He pointed to number five. “That L-Class is totally unprotected by any kind of Van Allen Belt. Its atmosphere is too thin to block out more than a tenth of the solar rads flying through here. Unless he had no choice, he wouldn’t have gone there.”
Ford straightened and looked off to the communications deck.
“Smith, any distress signals or weak broadcasts on any band?”
The comm officer pressed his silver receiver further home into his ear and turned back to his controls to make an intensive band search. He took nearly a minute to thoroughly scour the subspace region. “No signals of any kind emanating from inside this system, Skipper. Subspace or radio.”
“Very well. Keep looking.”
Lieutenant Surall turned to face the StratCom console.
“Skipper, there is no evidence of high band neutron radiation within this wreckage. I suspect this to be a Ya’wenn Government vessel. All hands aboard…killed.”
Ford’s light mood evaporated. He picked up his now cooler drink and headed back for the command chair. “Understood. Helm, turn your course for the fifth planet in this system for a passing approach of one million kilometers. We’ll scan it for life and any evidence of a landed craft, then head on for the fourth in the system. Ahead full impulse power.”
Bronstien tapped in the commands and pushed the accelerator lever forward gently. His skill with the helm was all but wasted on a starship of Endeavour’s size. “Coming right to 027 mark 001. Increasing speed to full impulse, Skipper. ETA fifth planet, ten minutes.”
Ford took a long, slow drink of his tea, finishing the still unpleasantly warm brew in on swallow. There was every reason to believe some of Jarn’s men still lived within this starsystem. There was as yet no evidence of their having left. Endeavour would have picked them up hours ago. Even if they were trying to sneak out of here at impulse, the Federation starship would likely have sighted them by now. His crew was among the best there was. And there wasn’t much that escaped Surall. The Ya’wenn rebels were on one of those two worlds. Were they there to undergo repairs, or were they slinking around with foul intent? Chevis decided to be ready in either event.
“Mister Nechayev. Red Alert.”
The weapons officer simply pressed a single waiting control on his board. His posture straightened. Ford had often marveled that the only time the man ever seemed to really perk up was during battle. The double beat of the alarm and the crimson tracers seemed to bath him in a new energy and sense of purpose. Even his blue eyes sharpened. It was as though his entire persona had just said ‘AH!’.
“Condition One, Keptin, aye.” He responded.
The entire crew was already at their posts. All that came next was the activation of weaponry and defenses, and the shutdown of all non-essential subsystems. Nechayev’s confirmations were soon forthcoming. “Shields activated, phasers armed, torpedoes loaded and ready. All decks report Red Alert status.”
Smith jerked at his station, then just as suddenly turned to face the conn. The boy’s expressive face was one of concern. “Now picking up an automated distress beacon, Skipper. Coming in from the fourth planet, southern continental region.”
Ford’s eyes were lit with a wry bit of sarcasm.
“I’ll bet. Maintain course and speed, helmsman. We’ll continue as described.”
It wasn’t likely, Chevis figured, but there was the slightest possibility that Endeavour’s sudden energy increase had been sighted. The activation of the beacon could just as easily been a planned rouse in such an event. Perhaps this was paranoia speaking out of turn, but Ford would play it safe. No one seemed to be questioning him, not even the XO. Commander Davenport remained quiet behind the junior science officer, arms crossed at his broad chest.
Ford watched his exec a minute. Ron would be a great captain. All he really lacked was the XO-billet’s experience. He had all the skills. He had the persona. The crew loved him. And he handled the ship and it’s personnel well. The only things stopping Ford from assigning the man to a ship in the sector’s fleet were the fact that he’d only been a commander for a couple months now, and the fact that Ford wanted him to take over the Endeavour. Sharp wanted very much for Ford to settle down on the Starbase and command the sector from there. Chevy didn’t want it that way. Grooming Ronald for this commission was his way of delaying the inevitable and making sure he left his ship in the hands of the best captain in the fleet.
“Now passing planet five.” Came the report from Commander Slik. Bronstien shot the Gorn an aggravated look for having reported a helm update before him. Ford smirked. He looked then to the science station. Surall was again at her scope. Ron was bent low, helping the junior officer with her own scans of the planet from medium range.
Ronald looked from the ensign to the senior lieutenant, then reported to the commodore. “No joy, Skipper. There’s no evidence of a ship making planetfall here.”
“Scour the poles with visual sensors, just to make sure nothing’s bobbin’ around in orbit, waitin’ for us to bug out.”
Ron nodded back to the captain and pointed to the two science officers.
Ford watched in continued silence while his helmsman drew the ship’s course for the next planet in their path. Bronstien looked back over his shoulder quickly, lest Slik beat him to the punch again. “Coming left to 331 mark 050.”
“Steady as she goes.” Replied Ford. Slik made a curious motion of the head at the sound of it. The commodore wondered how many more old sailors’ terms he could entertain the alien guest with. Surall broke into his thoughts. “Polar orbits are clear, Skipper. There are no vessels on or around planet five.”
“Keptin, now picking up an active energy signature from planet four.” Said the Chief of Security. “Same general location as the distress beacon. Matter/antimatter drive system. Low power yield.”
Ford waited as the weapons officer confirmed readings and made another scan.
“No fuel containment systems are evident, sir. There may be fuel pods in high planetary orbit, though. She may have had to dump her fuel to make an emergency landing.”
‘We can hope,’ Ford found himself thinking. He adjusted his seating posture and said to the helm: “Align your course for high parking orbit, southern hemisphere. Align forward weapons with the position of the alien vessel.”
“Aye.” Johnathan said back simply. The image of the planet growing on the main viewer was already beginning to rotate on its end.
Ford returned his attention to the comm.
“Smith, open general hail. Put me on.”
“You’re on, Skipper.”
Ford cleared his throat silently and projected.
“To the Ya’wenn vessel landed on the fourth planet in this starsystem. This is Commodore Ford of the USS Endeavour. We are moving in to assist you. You will disarm whatever weapons systems you currently have deployed and prepare to be taken into custody. Any resistance will be met with like retribution. Respond this channel. Over.”
Ford made a slash-throat gesture and Noah killed the transmission. Privately, the CO was beginning to doubt if anyone had heard the broadcast. He wondered if any one was even alive down there.
“Closing on planet four.” Slik intoned harshly.
“Now detecting life signs from the surface.” Came from Surall. Several are faint…likely injured. None appear to be moving. There is a radiation leak from within the Ya’wenn engine core. I believe the crew on the surface are being poisoned.”
“How long’s she been there?” Ford asked.
It was Ron that answered, still at science.
“About ten hours, I’d say. Maybe more.”
It was decision time. The lush blue and green world was swelling in size within the silver rimmed confines of the main viewer. Chevy could see the continent on the southern end of the planet. It was a wide, rocky expanse. Wide valleys were evident, even from space. And down there were a large number of the people Ford considered to be his enemy. Perhaps even his own personal enemy. They were rebels led by the man who’d ordered him to be tortured. And they now seemed to need his help.
“How…many survivors are there?” Ford’s voice was thick and husky. He hadn’t been conscious of the change, but his crew noticed it with concern. Ron turned and leaned in on the bridge rail.
“Seventy-one, sir. I’ll lead the landing party with a –“
“No.” Ford stood up, dropping his empty cup into the vacated conn. “I’m leading the away team. I wanna see what’s down there. Have three security teams armed and ready on the pads and four medical units with ground triage gear.” Ford was becoming a walking dynamo of pointing as he strode fast for the after lifts. “Slik, Bronstien, Smith, you’re with me. Make sure Goodwin’s leading one of the ground teams. Ron, you have the conn.”
***
--thu guv!
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