Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

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On more than one occasion, mostly during the early

years of her career, Commander Sonya Gomez had

experienced feelings of helplessness in the midst of a

crisis. As she stood on the bridge of the U.S.S. Defiant

and studied the surreal image displayed on its main

viewer, such feelings once again taunted her and

dared her to submit to their stifling embrace.

Along with Captain David Gold and Soloman, she

watched as the interdimensional rift continued to

mend itself, sealing the Defiant inside this pocket of

chaos ambiguously known as interphase and sepa-rating

them from the U.S.S. da Vinci and their entire

universe. At the moment, helplessness seemed almost

appropriate.

CHAPTER

1

The mission, like so many others Gomez had

undertaken since joining the Starfleet Corps of

Engineers, had started out easily enough. Daunting

and compelling from both technical and historical

perspectives, the task of retrieving the Defiant had

energized the entire da Vinci crew, from Captain

Gold on down. The recovery of the fabled ship, lost

for more than a century after becoming trapped in an

interspatial pocket connecting this universe with

another, presented a unique engineering challenge.

When the ship disappeared in , most scientific

minds throughout the Federation believed that it had

been lost in the other universe with no hope of being

recovered.

That belief had held true until two weeks ago, when

a Tholian vessel had discovered the Defiant, still

trapped in the interdimensional rift but now visible

again for the first time in more than a century. The

circumstances leading to the ships reappearance

after so long remained a mystery and the Tholians, in

their typical fashion, had not been forthcoming with

any potentially helpful information.

And we could sure use that info now, Gomez mused.

She had led an away team to the Defiant with the

task of restoring minimal power to the derelict vessel.

Working with Kieran Duffy, the da Vincis propulsion

specialist, she had decided that the Defiants maneu-vering

thrusters could be used to help extract the ship

from the rift, with the help of the da Vincis tractor

beam. Duffy and his team had also modified the ships

navigational deflector to stabilize the Defiants hull

and make it easier for the tractor beam to lock onto

the trapped ship.

Of course, it wouldnt have been an S.C.E. mission

if the Defiant hadnt yielded a few surprises of its own.

First had been the condition of the ship itself.

Drained of power, the Defiant was a lifeless hulk, dark

and foreboding as the away team materialized in the

depths of its engineering section. Then there were the

remains of the ships crew, drifting free throughout

the vessels interior in the absence of gravity. The

nightmarish scene had caught Gomez off guard and

caused her no small amount of anxiety. Her reaction

to the situation troubled her, but she had managed to

keep her unease at bay to this point by concentrating

on the tasks at hand.

But then the Tholians had inexplicably fired on the

Defiant, disrupting the da Vincis attempt to pull the

century-old ship from the interspatial void and

instead throwing the Defiant back into the rift. The

action had the further effect of collapsing the pocket

around the ship, trapping it and the da Vinci away

team within the confines of interspace.

The weapons fire could have disturbed the fabric of

space near the rift, Gomez said as she studied the cen-tury-

old viewscreen. The area is already so unstable,

any kind of disruption would probably be enough to

affect it.

Turning away from the viewscreen, Gold said,

Something similar was reported in the old Enterprise

logs when they discovered the Defiant. It had the

effect of throwing off the interphase timetable. The

Defiant still continued to appear and reappear, but

they had to recalculate the intervals.

That means the da Vinci can probably still get us

out, Gomez said.

Maybe, Gold replied as he stepped toward the

starboard side of the command well. But first we

need to make sure the ship wont fall apart around

us. He turned his attention to the science station.

Soloman, do we have internal sensors? Can you give

us a damage report?

The Bynar keyed commands to the science console

as his face was bathed in the soft blue light of the sta-tions

viewfinder. Several moments passed as he

reviewed the information supplied by the Defiants

limited sensors.

There are . . . hull breaches on decks eight, thirteen

and . . . fifteen, he reported. There is also some

buckling . . . in the port warp nacelle. As he turned

away from the viewfinder, the Bynar added, The

damage is minor, given the . . . intensity of the attack,

Captain. We were . . . most fortunate.

Gomez sighed in relief. Ill say. If thats the extent

of the damage, then we should be okay even under the

pull of the da Vincis tractor beam.

If shes still there, Gold said, drawing shocked

expressions from Gomez and Soloman. The da Vincis

commanding officer didnt acknowledge the looks,

however, instead adding, She may have been dis-abled

or destroyed by the Tholians, or Mr. Duffy has

obeyed my orders and taken her out of the area.

Either way, we may not be able to rely on the da Vinci

to get us out of here.

Even if the rift was open, Gomez said, the

Defiants maneuvering thrusters arent enough to push

us out on their own. The generators they had

brought with them from the da Vinci would never be

enough to power the ships massive impulse engines,

to say nothing about the warp drive.

Gold shrugged. Then well just have to find anoth-er

way, wont we?

Captain, Gomez said, what if we do get out? The

Tholians could be waiting on the other side of the rift

for us. Wed be sitting ducks.

Given a choice between waiting here for who

knows what to happen or taking our chances in nor-mal

space, Gold replied, I choose the latter

option.

The chirp of his suit communicator interrupted

their conversation; it was followed by the voice of Dr.

Elizabeth Lense, the da Vincis chief medical officer.

Lense to Captain Gold. I have an emergency situa-tion

and require assistance.

Doctor? Gold called out, his voice rising a notch.

Are you all right? What about Pattie?

Shortly after beaming to the Defiant, P Blue, the

S.C.E. teams resident Nasat engineer, had detected an

odd power source emanating from deep within the

ship. Gold had sent her and Dr. Lense to investigate,

and they had found a strange device of Tholian design

stored in one of the ships cargo holds. To the best of

Golds knowledge, Pattie and Lense had remained

down there during the Tholian attack. He had sudden

visions of the pair caught in a maelstrom of cargo

containers and equipment tumbling about the cargo

hold free from the restraints of gravity, and Pattie and

Lense frantically seeking cover from the potentially

lethal assault.

I am uninjured, Lense replied to the captain,

miraculously maintaining her composed tone of

voice, but we are not in the cargo bay. During the

attack, a section of the hull destabilized and Pattie fell

out into space. As she was already unconscious, I had

no choice but to follow.

What? Gold said. You mean youre drifting in

space outside the ship?

No, sir. I managed to get us back, but by then the

hull had solidified again. I am standing on the exteri-or

of the ship, and I can find no sign of an airlock or

other entry point. Pattie has sustained a concussion.

She needs medical treatment, and I have to get her

helmet off.

Gold looked to Gomez. Transporters? Can we

beam her directly to the bridge?

The engineer shook her head. Theres no power to

the transporters, sir, and no way to remote control

them from up here. Someone would have to be in the

transporter room on deck seven.

Gold turned to the science station to find Soloman

already working at the sensor controls. He didnt have

to wait long before the Bynar looked up.

I have located them, Captain. The closest entrance

to . . . the ship is a maintenance airlock on the . . .

starboard side of deck fourteen. I can direct her to

that location . . . from here, but the hatch will have to

be opened manually.

Lenses voice carried a note of concern. Im not

sure if I can do that by myself and take care of Pattie

at the same time.

I can meet her there, Captain, Gomez said.

Soloman can give me directions to the hatch, and Ill

get there through the Jefferies tubes. She knew that

navigating the crawlspaces and maintenance

throughways connecting nearly every point on the

starship would be difficult while wearing her envi-ronment

suit, but that would be offset somewhat by

the absence of the ships artificial gravity field.

Sounds like a plan , Gold said, nodding his

approval. In the meantime, Soloman and I are going

to do some more detective work. Its pretty obvious

that whatever set the Tholians off has something to

do with that little tchotchke that Pattie and the doctor

found in the cargo bay.

Today was the last day Kieran Duffy wanted an

excuse to lie down on the job.

Yet mere minutes after his first space battle as the

commanding officer of a Starfleet vessel, he was

sprawled across the deck plates in the main engineer-ing

room of the U.S.S. da Vinci. Scattered to his side

were a number of isolinear chips, once translucent and

operational but now charred black and useless. He

fumbled a few more of the chips in one hand, eyeing

them for telltale signs of burnout, then double-check-ing

his visual survey with the diagnostic reader he

grasped in his other hand. Next to his head was an open

panel, glowing from within and sporting about a dozen

empty sockets waiting for working chips to be inserted.

CHAPTER

2

Duffy let all but a pair of the chips slip from his

grasp before craning his head to peer inside the con-sole.

The bright control panels with glowing chips

appeared clean and new, belying the fact that they,

key components in the starships warp-drive system,

were about as functional as a wet match.

One hit.

Thats all it had taken from the Tholian ship to dis-able

the da Vincis warp drive. It had been bad

enough only a few hours before, when Captain Gold

had tasked him with keeping the warp cores inter-mix

ratios in balance as the starship set about her

mission of extracting the U.S.S. Defiant from the

interspatial rift. The unusual, tenuous connection

that the rift had created between the two universes

had been known to wreak havoc on the warp engines

of ships venturing close to it, and Captain Gold

wanted no such surprises during their recovery

operation.

Thanks to the Tholians, though, all of Duffys calcu-lating

of formulas and finessing of the magnetic fields

that prevented matter from blending too freely with

antimatter was wasted.

How does that wisecrack go? The fight was two hits

long The Klingon hit the Cardassian and the

Cardassian hit the floor. Whos the one on the floor

now?

Duffy shoved his hand into the depths of the console

to seat the pair of replacement chips. Straining,

he slipped one chip into place, then maneuvered him-self

to another open slot, gripping the very edge of the

remaining chip with the tips of two fingers.

But just as the chip found a purchase on the rim of

the slot, a sharp blow to the bottom of his right foot

rocked his entire body.

Yaa! he shouted, dropping the chip and smacking

his head against the edge of the consoles cavity.

Worming his way out of the opening, he looked up to

see Domenica Corsi towering over him, her jaw

clenched and the toe of her boot next to where she

had just kicked him.

Just perfect, Corsi said. Ostriches stick their

heads in the sand. You stick yours into a bulkhead.

Oh, excuse me, he fired back as he felt himself

starting to heat up. I had the foolish idea that warp

drive might be a nice thing to have before the

Tholians get back. That is, unless youd like to get out

and push.

Corsis scowl darkened. A ship full of engineers,

and youre the only one who can fix it?

The question made Duffy pause, giving him a

moment to catch his tongue rather than launch

another barb. Yes, he was the da Vincis top mind on

matters of propulsion, and he acted as the ships

warp-core watchdog above and beyond even the chief

engineer.

But now he was in command of the da Vinci. This

was not the time for him to nursemaid a warp-drive

problem, and it had taken Corsi to remind him of it.

Again.

As if to emphasize the point, she said, You need to

be on the bridge, Commander. Order someone else to

repair the warp drive.

Duffy nodded. Youre right. With a mischievous

smile he added, Youre getting to like keeping me in

check, arent you? He was satisfied to see the securi-ty

chiefs expression soften a little as her jaw muscles

loosened.

Not much, but its a start.

After detailing the top-priority repair assignment to

the small army of engineers tending to various tasks

here within the heart of the ship, Duffy smiled at

Corsi again and headed for the door. She followed

him, and the pair made their way quickly down the

corridor.

As they walked, Duffy said, I need to know exactly

where we are on repairs before Captain Scott tells us

Starfleets official response to our situation. Id like

some ideas on reopening the rift, too.

He tried not to dwell on his last conversation with

the seasoned engineer who served as the figurehead

for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. It was Captain

Montgomery Scott who had dispatched the da Vinci

and her crew to Tholian space in the first place,

charging them with the challenge of retrieving the

Defiant from the rift, while at the same time entrust-ing

them with the delicate task of working with the

temperamental Tholians. It was he whose face had

fallen as Duffy relayed the events that had erupted

just when the mission seemed to be going so well, and

it was he who was likely getting his aft shields chewed

right now by Starfleet brass as a result.

Corsis voice brought Duffy to attention. I assumed

as much, Commander. The team is already waiting

for us in the briefing room.

Duffy couldnt help the small laugh that escaped his

lips, feeling more at ease with the idea that Core

Breach Corsi was acting as a safety net for his first

tightrope walk of a command. With her at his side, he

might just survive this mission yet.

They entered the briefing room and Duffy took note

of who was at the table, while at the same time trying

not to think about who was noticeably absent.

Scattered about in their usual seats were other mem-bers

of the team Carol Abramowitz, their chief liai-son

with the Tholian Assembly; Fabian Stevens, the

ships expert on tactical systems; and Bartholomew

Faulwell, the teams cryptography and language spe-cialist,

who had stepped in to help brainstorm options

for salvaging their mission, given the current void of

command officers. Duffy mulled taking the head seat

at the table, the one typically occupied by Captain

Gold, but settled instead for the comfort of his usual

chair next to Abramowitz.

Okay, Duffy began, placing his elbows on the table

before him and lacing his fingers. Warp drive is

almost operational again. Everything else is good to

go, right?

Stevens was quick to answer. We didnt take it on

the chin too hard, Duff. Weapons are fine.

Communications, shields, the deflector array, life sup-port,

everything checks right on down the line. Id bet

the warp drive would have been fine, too, if it wasnt

for this space were in.

Duffy wondered whether that was the rule and not

the exception here. Tholian ships disruptors could

wreak havoc on unshielded vessels, he was certain,

but it seemed that Federation starships with fully

charged deflector shields usually could shrug off the

initial volleys of such an attack.

Maybe so, Fabian, Duffy replied, but here, all

bets are off. Right now I want to dig into the deflector

modifications and see whether we can open the rift

again without waiting for it. He knew that time was

a precious commodity right now. The Tholians had to

know how much damage they had inflicted on the da

Vinci, and they most likely also knew that the starship

wouldnt leave the area unless forced to, so long as

there was a chance to recover the Defiant and the

away team. The chronometer was ticking for those

aboard both ships, however, so he wasnt willing to be

patient.

Corsi leaned forward in her seat. Shield harmonics

need to be monitored closely as well, Mr. Stevens, in

case that rift has the same degenerative effect on

them as it does on our warp capability. We need to be

prepared for an all-out attack once that Tholian ship

returns with reinforcements.

Duffy was ready to answer, but instead was cut off

by Carol Abramowitz.

Prepare all you want, she said, but were not

going into battle. The cultural specialist was met

with Corsis perturbed expression but continued

unheeded. You can bet that our next orders will be to

head home without the Defiant. No one is going to

throw away the trust that diplomats and ambassadors

have earned with the Tholians during the Dominion

War. Unfortunately, an antique ship and a few engi-neers

will be considered expendable.

Abramowitzs assessment matched his own, Duffy

realized as he hung his head a bit. Captain Gold had

told them all up front that the mission would be scut-tled

should any signs of eroding relations with the

Tholians appear, and an exchange of fire definitely

seemed to qualify as erosion to him. Diplomats were

sure to exercise their influence to pull the da Vinci

from the mission, whether or not her crew was intact.

He had to be ready to say good-bye to his captain,

his friends, and his . . . his . . .

Oh, Sonnie.

But Corsi did not appear content to keep her views

to herself. What, were going to abandon the away

team? The Tholians fired first! We didnt start this

fight, but we damn well better finish it. Duffy

watched as Corsi narrowed her eyes and scanned the

others seated at the table for a sign of support before

adding, Let them say what they want back on Earth.

Regardless of whether we bring the Defiant home,

were getting our away team back.

It is a bold stand you hope to take, Abramowitz

replied, but I dont think youre being realistic. Her

tone was clipped and polite, and Duffy knew it was a

signal that she was already beginning to lose patience

with the security chief. The womens dueling edginess

would quickly become as volatile as a mix of matter

and antimatter.

Realistic is a quantum torpedo, Cors i snapped.

You think sweet-talking a Tholian at this point is-

People!

Duffy was as surprised as everyone else when the

word exploded from his mouth with such force and

volume. All eyes turned to him, and no one said any-thing

for several seconds, the only sounds audible in

the room being that of the ventilation system and the

omnipresent hum of the ships engines.

Taking a moment to clear his throat, he began again

in a more reserved tone. People, dont think for a

minute that Captain Scott isnt doing everything he

can on his end to keep us here. Dont stop believing

that Captain Gold isnt working to get the Defiant to

our side of the rift.

He paused, focusing on Corsi as she sat cross-armed

in her chair. But were not disobeying any

order that comes from Starfleet. For now, though,

well focus on doing everything we can until that

order comes down.

Silence hung in the briefing room as Duffy asserted

his command over his fellow officers and friends. He

racked his mind for some words of support and con-fidence,

the kind of statements that seemed to roll off

Captain Golds tongue in tough situations. Now was

the time to be a captain, but all he felt like was a

babysitter trying to quell a squabble between sisters

while Mom and Dad were at the holotheater.

I cant very well send them to their rooms.

A flash of amber light caught Duffys eye as it

glowed on the tabletop near Faulwells hand. The lin-guist

tapped a control on the keypad near his arm,

then looked up at Duffy with sympathetic eyes.

Its an incoming message from Starfleet

Command. Do you want to take it in private?

Duffy shook his head. No. Put it on the viewer.

As Captain Scotts wizened face filled the screen on

the briefing rooms wall, Duffy felt some of the groups

tension seep away. The engineers creased visage, his

friendly eyes, and the hint of a smile were just what

everyone needed at that very moment.

Its not the worst news Ill be bringin ye, Mr.

Duffy, the face on the viewer began, but the situa-tion

isnt good.

Steeling himself for the report, Duffy nodded.

Were ready.

Scott drew a breath before continuing. Our

ambassador to the Tholians is recommending that we

scrap the mission. He wants the Federation to for-mally

apologize to the commander of the ship ye fired

on, and to the Magistrates of the Assembly. He says

were on the brink of losin it all as far as relations are

concerned, and that the Defiant isnt worth it.

Duffys mind was numbed by Scotts words, which

echoed those of Abramowitz moments before. Rather

than lose his focus, though, Duffy fell back on his

ready wit. And exactly how is this not the worst

news, Captain?

Scott allowed a small smile before replying. Weve

got the support of Admiral Ross, and that carries a lot

of weight with the Federation Council. The admiral is

arguing for the da Vinci to hold its position, saying

that it was poor frame of mind and the effects of

interspace, not a botched cooperative effort, that led

us to this point. He says that it just might be the

Tholians who do the apologizin once this is all over.

Releasing a breath, Duffy relaxed a bit. So what do

we do in the meantime?

Tell me how your repairs are farin.

It was a question Duffy hadnt expected, as he had

explained to the S.C.E. leader in detail during their

earlier conversation just what damage the starship

had suffered. All systems are operational except for

the warp drive, just like-

Ah, Scott said with a sigh that was almost too dra-matic.

And thats givin ye lots of trouble to fix so

close to the point of interphase, ye say.

No, sir, Duffy replied, his puzzlement growing by

the second. Were almost-

It may take hours to repair before ye can even head

back to Federation space.

Realization finally dawned, and a smile spread

across Duffys face as he began to pick up on Captain

Scotts lead. It was a look that was shared by everyone

else at the table.

Oh, yes, sir. Id say at least three-

Twelve hours to repair, ye say? Ill let Admiral Ross

know right away. Scott nodded grimly and twitched

a cheek. Duffy almost laughed aloud.

Did he just wink at me?

Set your team to work, Mr. Duffy, Scott said, then

adjusted his tone to a more serious timbre. But Ill be

needin a word alone with ye now.

Here it comes, Duffy thought as everyone else rose

from their seats, moving with only slightly less speed

than they might exhibit during an emergency evacua-tion

of the ship. Only Stevens paused just long

enough to offer a thumbs-up gesture and to mouth

the words Good luck before he, too, was gone. In

seconds Duffy was alone in the room, leaving him to

look squarely at the viewer and ready to get called

down by the chief of the S.C.E. himself.

Well, it was fun while it lasted. So long, and thanks

for all the . . .

Mr. Duffy, the seasoned engineer said, did I ever

tell ye what the most frightenin words I ever heard

spoken on the bridge of a starship were? Duffy shook

his head as the veteran engineer continued. Well,

here they are Mr. Scott, you have the conn.

Duffy laughed in spite of himself, realizing now that

the captain understood his plight all too well. He

didnt know many engineers who had risen through

the ranks of command, at least not the engineers he

perceived as being cut from the same cloth as he was.

After all, why would an engineer want to command a

starship rather than spend that time tearing it apart

and putting it back together?

An engineers job isnt just to keep a starship run-nin.

Its to keep her crew safe, said Scott. Some of

the best years I had in Starfleet were when I was third

in command of the Enterprise. Keepin the crew safe;

thats what I kept in mind every time I had to sit in the

center seat.

Mr. Duffy, Im gonna level with ye. That diplomat

Marshall wants to hang this whole mess on you. He

thinks that an immature officer, a mere engineer unfit

for command caused the whole thing. Scott leaned

forward, his eyes fixing on the younger man. I know

hes wrong. Well show him hes wrong, Mr. Duffy.

Pride. Thats what shone in Captain Scotts eyes as

he spoke. Pride in the Starfleet Corps of Engineers,

pride in the crew of the da Vinci, pride in the engineer

who stepped from third in command to leading a ship

in a mission that now was so much more than sal-vaging

a relic from a bygone era.

I can do this.

Yes, we will, Captain, said Duffy, now rising from

his chair. Just buy me the time.

Scott nodded a few times, forcing his lips together

tightly in a small frown. To Kieran Duffy, the old engi-neer

appeared lost in his thoughts.

Laddie, once I thought I was leavin my captain in

that same damnable place. Ill push like hell to keep

ye from thinkin the same. Scott out.

With only the light from her helmet lamps to guide

the way and the sound of her own breathing to keep

her company, Gomez pulled herself through the

Jefferies tube and deeper into the bowels of the

Defiant. Despite there being no gravity to impede her

progress or to grab her and send her plunging head-long

down a maintenance shaft, it was still difficult

going. Her environment suit, designed for use in open

space or on the exposed surface of an otherwise

inhospitable planet, only seemed to hamper her

movements here. Junctions and intersections were

particularly challenging, as she had to be aware of

snagging her suit on exposed controls or anything

else sticking out from the sides of the crawlway.

CHAPTER

3

And on top of it all, the walls were closing in on her.

She was sure of it.

The thought came unbidden, surging to the front of

her consciousness. She knew it was an odd notion

and completely baseless, but she couldnt shake it.

The Jefferies tube was contracting around her. The

walls threatened to crush the life out of her, chased

back only when she shone her light at them.

The tube is not getting smaller, Gomez scolded

herself. Its your imagination, so get over it and keep

moving. And so she did, pulling her weightless body

through the crawlspace as quickly as she could, and

doing her best to ignore the oppressive advance of the

walls around her.

Movement ahead caught her attention, along with a

swath of color contrasting with the dull gray domi-nating

the rest of the tunnel. Gomez paused in her

crawling, orienting herself so that her helmet lamps

could illuminate the section of tube ahead of her. Her

eyes focused on the source of the movement, and she

felt a shiver travel the entire length of her body.

It was the skeleton of yet another Defiant

crewmember, dressed in a red jumpsuit and floating

freely in the confines of the Jefferies tube. The bones

of the feet were bare, and there was no sign of the

boots the man had once worn.

Man? Woman? Gomez had no idea what gender the

crewmember might have been. She was only reason-

ably sure that the skeleton was even human. Had this

person been an engineer, toiling away in the depths of

the starship, only to be overcome by the effects of

interspace? He or she had been isolated here, cut off

from the rest of the ships crew. A maintenance crawl-way

seemed to Gomez to be a particularly lonely

place to die.

However, that thought didnt bother her nearly as

much as the realization that the skeleton of the hap-less

victim was blocking her path through the

Jefferies tube. She would have to maneuver past the

dead crewman in order to continue forward.

Dear God . . . she whispered, noticing the shake

in her voice as the words escaped her lips. There was

no way she could allow herself to touch the skeleton.

The very idea of coming into contact with the crew-mans

remains revolted her.

What the hells the matter with me? Her mind

screamed the question at her. She had to press for-ward,

of course. It was the only way to get to Lense

and Pattie. Thats what she needed to focus on, not

the tightness of the crawlspace or the lifeless body

floating before her or . . .

Stop it! she shouted, her voice echoing in the con-fines

of her helmet. Then she remained in place for

the additional couple of minutes it took to bring her

rapid breathing down to something approaching nor-mal.

You can do this, she told herself. You have to.

Pattie and Elizabeth need you.

Yes, that was it. She needed to concentrate on Pattie

and Lense and the fact that they were trapped outside

the ship and needed her help to get back inside.

Gomez to Lense, she called out as she activated

her communicator, painfully aware of the detectable

nervousness in her voice. How are you making out?

Hows Pattie?

Im at the airlock, Sonya, the doctor replied.

Pattie is still unconscious, but her readings are sta-ble.

She, too, had apparently noticed Gomezs anxi-ety.

Are you okay? Is something wrong?

Gomez forced herself to take several deep breaths

before replying. It would do no good to display any

false bravado, she knew, as Lense would see through

the facade with little effort. Better to be open about

what was troubling her.

Im feeling a bit claustrophobic, Elizabeth, she

admitted. Ive spent my fair share of time crawling

around Jefferies tubes, but Ive never felt like this

before. And theres something else. In halting,

hushed tones, Gomez described the body blocking

her path in the crawlway.

Enough of this! It was time to move, she decided.

Lense and Pattie didnt have all day to wait on her to

get her act together. With a final, cleansing breath,

she reached for a handhold and began to pull herself

forward once more.

Im moving again, Elizabeth, she said, hoping her

voice sounded more confident to the doctor than it

did to her.

Good, Lense replied. Sonya, just talk to me if you

start to feel nervous or uneasy again.

Okay, Gomez said, nodding though there was no

one around to see the action. She didnt care, her

attention instead riveted on the task at hand. She

closed her eyes and focused on the technical

schematic Soloman had shown her, displaying the

memorized route to the airlock in her minds eye.

Her concentration faltered, though, when she felt

her hand brush across something that was most defi-nitely

not part of the Jefferies tube. It was soft, yield-ing

to her touch, and it moved slightly at her

approach.

The crewman.

Almost immediately Gomez felt her pulse begin to

quicken and her breathing accelerate. Still, she kept

pushing forward, gritting her teeth and clenching her

eyes closed even tighter as she felt the skeleton of the

dead crewmember begin to pass down the length of

her environment suit. Her mind tortured her with

images of bones shifting beneath the material of the

crewmans jumpsuit. Could she actually hear the

sound of those bones rubbing against one another?

And then, the one thing she feared most happened.

She stopped moving.

Still gripping a handhold, Gomez tried to pull her-self

forward again but failed. She was stuck. Without

thinking, she opened her eyes, only to see the skull of

the doomed crewman plastered against the faceplate

of her helmet.

The scream that tore itself from her throat echoed

in the narrow width of the crawlway.

Sonya! Lenses voice called out over her commu-nicator.

What is it?

Gomez didnt respond. She tuned out her stranded

teammate as she thrashed about, flailing her arms

and kicking her legs against the sides of the tunnel in

a frantic effort to free herself. One hand swiped at the

skull still leering at her, forcing it away and up toward

the ceiling of the tube. She felt something snap like

brittle wood splintering and then she was free, pulling

herself once more through the tunnel with no thought

as to getting snagged on some projection or slamming

headfirst into a wall or maintenance hatch.

Suddenly the cramped walls of the Jefferies tube

fell away, and Gomez spilled into one of the Defiants

corridors. She barely managed to throw her arms out

ahead of her, preventing herself from careening into

the passageways far bulkhead. As her hands touched

the wall, instinct and training took over, orienting her

body so that her magnetized boots could rest once

again on the cold, dusty deck.

Sonya? Lense repeated. Answer me. Are you all

right?

Taking a moment to gather herself, Gomez forced

away the lingering images of the crewmans body and

the way the skeletons fragile remains had given way

under her panicked assault as she fought to extricate

herself from the crawlway.

Im . . . Im fine, Elizabeth. Now, at least. But were

going to have Soloman find us another way back to

the bridge, if its all the same to you.

Right now, the doctor replied, Id just be happy

to be inside the ship.

A small chuckle broke through Gomezs remaining

anxiety, bringing a much-needed smile to her face as

she started down the corridor, examining directional

signs on the bulkheads as she went. It didnt take long

to find the room containing the maintenance airlock,

as well as a collection of lockers holding environment

suits and assorted engineering tools. If time hadnt

been an issue, Gomez might have taken a few minutes

to examine the century-old equipment and marvel at

how well it had been preserved by the lack of atmos-phere

on the ship.

Instead, she turned her attention to the airlock

itself. A moments work with her manual door opener

succeeded in coaxing the airlock hatch open and

revealing the welcome sight of Elizabeth Lense. The

doctor was still cradling the unconscious Pattie in her

arms.

How is she? Gomez asked as she helped lower the

Nasat to the deck. She held Patties still form down as

Lense reached for her tricorder, but to Gomezs sur-prise,

she was the first object of the doctors scrutiny

rather than Pattie.

Just as I suspected, Lense said as she snapped the

tricorder closed and reached for the medical kit on

her belt. The theragen I gave you has begun to wear

off. Youve started to feel the effects of interspace.

Gomezs sigh was a mixture of relief and apprehen-sion

as she allowed herself to relax somewhat and sag

against the nearby bulkhead. At least now she knew

that the feelings of panic and uncertainty shed been

experiencing had an external cause, and werent due

to her own failings. On the other hand, she hadnt

expected the inoculations Lense had given them all to

lose their effectiveness so quickly.

As if anticipating Gomezs question, Lense said,

Being in the rift might be having a more intense

effect on us than merely being in proximity to it. I

should give the entire away team another dose as

soon as possible.

With hypospray in hand, the doctor reached for

Gomezs right shoulder and placed the injector into

the pressurized receptacle located there. The connec-tion

was designed expressly for the purpose of allow-ing

injections into a suits occupant when circum-stances

didnt allow for the removal of the helmet,

making it easy to provide medical treatment in almost

any environment. Once she had administered the

theragen to Gomez, she repeated the process on her-self.

I didnt expect to have to give booster shots so

soon, if at all, Lense said. If we cant get out of the

rift before my supply of theragen is exhausted, we

could be in serious trouble.

Gomez thought about the near hysteria she had

endured in the Jefferies tube. Knowing that those

feelings were nothing compared to what she might

experience should the away team be exposed to the

full effects of the rift now filled her with a pro-nounced

sense of dread.

His thoughts concentrated somewhere beyond the

image displayed on the da Vincis main viewer, Duffy

sat in the captains chair, staring into the reaches of

starry space. His eyes followed a glowing ribbon of

energy projecting from the starships deflector dish as

it lanced outward, then narrowed to a point near the

center of the viewscreen. Somewhere out there, he

hoped, the beam would find a crack or seam, any-thing

that could be seized upon and forced open and

give the da Vinci access to the interdimensional rift

that had reclaimed the Defiant, along with their own

away team.

As a young boy on Earth, Duffy had sometimes

entertained himself with thoughts of contacting a

CHAPTER

4

passing ship of alien spacefarers. Armed with the

biggest portable beacon his father owned, he would

slip from his home in the dark of night and settle him-self

on a grassy rise in the backyard. There he would

activate the beacon and point it into the night sky.

Sometimes his fingers fiddled with the beacons

switch, making the beam of light pulse at random.

Other times he would allow it to burn steadily for

what seemed to him like hours. He would sprawl in

the grass, paying little mind to the closely shorn

blades prickling the back of his neck as he looked sky-ward

and hoped that maybe this would be the night

that the captain of a Vulcan science ship or a curious

Pygorian trader would stop by for a visit.

Duffys posture slumped a bit in the center seat as

he recalled the night he had told his father that he

wouldnt need the beacon anymore. His father had

patted him on the shoulder and encouraged him to

keep it at his bedside, should he ever change his

mind. The response of his young voice rang in Duffys

memory.

Thats okay, Dad. You can keep it. Im tired of just

watching the light. No one ever comes.

He tried to fend off the ironic ring of his memories

as the deflector beam pierced the blackness. He con-tinued

to watch it for a few seconds longer, then

turned reluctantly from the viewscreen toward the

science station.

Anything?

No detectable changes, Fabian Stevens replied.

When he volunteered for a duty shif t on the bridge, he

typically had his eye on the tacticians seat. Now he

had taken the post of the ships science officer, moni-toring

the area of the rift for any effect from the

deflector beams attempt to influence it. Ive got

nothing, Duff, but the rift is hard enough to read

when its open.

Im not asking for much here, said Duffy to no one

in particular, letting his frustration saturate his words.

It was their third attempt at massaging the area of

interphase into a premature opening, and Duffys

hopes for success were fading. With the Tholians

bound to return to the area at any time, he knew that

merely idling here for three more hours and awaiting

the rifts next predicted opening was not the most pru-dent

course of action.

I dont want the fabric of space torn wide open, he

said. Im just looking for a little rip. Even a snag.

Stevens smirked at Duffy. Maybe we could send in

a torpedo loaded with a batch of P-s?

An unexpected yet quite welcome laugh burst from

Duffys mouth. Despite the seriousness of their cur-rent

situation, he couldnt help but recall their recent

and memorable mission involving the fabled P-s.

It had happened a few months before, when the da

Vinci had come across a drifting Pakled craft. At first

the vessel appeared to have been disabled after an

attack of unknown origin. Duffy, Stevens, and a few

da Vinci technicians had beamed over to lend a hand,

only to learn that the Pakled crew was trying to repair

practically every onboard system. Their ship, Duffy

quickly learned, had suffered a cascading circuitry

overload following the crews attempt at adapting an

official Romulan cloaking device to their ships

computer defense systems.

Both Duffy and Stevens had then been forced to

exercise every scrap of self-control they possessed so

as not to fall over laughing when the captain of the

Pakled vessel told them that a Ferengi businessman

was the source of the supposed cloaking device.

The electromagnetic pulse that resulted from

engaging their new contraption had fried practically

everything connected to a power source, including

life-support systems, distress beacons, and even

handheld devices hooked to charging ports. It was

fortunate happenstance that the da Vinci had stum-bled

upon the dying craft at all, and the S.C.E. team

had been viewed by the Pakleds as a mixture of magi-cians

and divine agents.

What dazzled the stranded crew the most, Duffy

and Stevens noted, seemed to be the teams use of

what Starfleet personnel called a P-. When gripped

between thumb and forefinger, the small device

could, at the press of a button, emit focused frequen-

cies of light and sound that were perfect for freeing

the covers of circuit panels fused shut from the elec-tric

backlash of the contraband cloaking device.

Neither of the officers had the heart to tell the

Pakleds that their wondrous P-s were basically glo-rified

Starfleet-issue can openers.

Duffy brought his smile under control long enough

to mimic the Pakled captains words to Stevens. You

make things open. That is good.

The two laughed again. Thats us, Duffy said,

curbing his laughter. The Starfleet Corps of

Engineers Miracle Workers for the Alpha Quadrant

and beyond.

Duffys face sobered a bit as he looked to the

viewscreen again.

Nothing.

If anything qualifies as beyond right about now, its

the Defiant.

Its not working, he said, his words tinged with

disgust. Shut it down, Fabian. Duffy paused as he

watched the golden-hued ray snap out of existence

with not a shimmer of the rift he had hoped against

hope to see. Analyze the latest set of sensor readings

and let me know when youre ready to try it again.

Sure, Duff, Stevens replied as he turned back to

his console. Fourth one makes the charm, right?

Thats what the Andorians always say.

Duffys attention was drawn by the opening of the

turbolift doors, from which emerged another

reminder of the masked dangers awaiting those who

merely occupied this area of space. Armed with a

hypospray, Nurse Sandy Wetzel stepped onto the

bridge and cut a path directly to Duffy.

Commander, she said, I need to administer ther-agen

boosters to everyone. Dr. Lenses orders were for

the shots to be given out if she wasnt back by

hours.

Duffy nodded, remembering Lenses report from

her earlier briefing. The effectiveness of the theragen

treatment received by the entire crew would weaken

over time and require bolstering through additional

inoculations.

Fire away, he said, craning his neck to allow the

nurse access. As the spray hissed below his ear, he had

a momentary pang of concern as he thought once

more about the substance being pumped into his

bloodstream.

Actually a Klingon nerve gas that was instantly

lethal in its purest form, the theragen derivative was

also the da Vinci crews best defense against slipping

into the same space madness that had gripped those

aboard the Defiant a century ago. Duffy, for one, was

thankful for the medicine. The last thing he needed

right now, on top of everything else, was to have to

cope with a mentally unstable crew.

As Wetzel finished inoculating him, Duffy said,

Thanks, Sandy. Hows Songmin doing?

Wetzel had been the first of the medical team to

report to the bridge during the Tholian attack that

had interrupted the da Vincis recovery operation and

sent the Defiant plunging back into the interspatial

rift. She had arrived to find the usual assortment of

bumps, cuts, and bruises except for the more serious-ly

injured helmsman, Ensign Songmin Wong.

Were treating him for a concussion, she replied.

Hell be released for duty after a nights rest.

Duffy nodded thankfully as Wetzel moved to the

helmsman now seated at Wongs usual position. Then

his attention was drawn to the communications sta-tion,

where an animated discussion looked to be tak-ing

place between Carol Abramowitz and Bart

Faulwell. The two had been hard at work since Duffy

had returned from his private conversation with

Captain Scott. Hed been too busy to wonder what

theyd been up to before now, but as he watched their

exchange for several more seconds, he decided that

this was the time to find out.

He walked toward them, trying to be obvious about

his approach, but the two didnt flinch. Abramowitz

leaned forward in her seat, occasionally keying com-mands

as the tall, lean Faulwell stood beside her, both

remaining intently focused on their work. Then Duffy

noticed that they were both straining to listen to small

Feinberg audio receivers plugged into their ears. Who

were they talking to? What in the hell was going on?

Speaking softly, he said, Hello? Heh-LO-oh.

The best comparison Duffy could make to the

sound that came out of Abramowitzs mouth was that

of a tribble freshly tossed into a Klingons lap. The

cultural specialists eyes widened in momentary shock

as she registered Duffys presence, her surprise nearly

jerking her against the back of her chair. Duffy chuck-led

at her response, but neither she nor Faulwell

seemed amused at the interruption.

Im sorry, Commander, she said, regaining some

of her composure. I guess we were somewhere else.

Where?

Faulwell couldnt seem to help the hint of a proud

smile starting to creep onto his face. Truth be told,

Mr. Duffy, I was giving Carol here a lesson in Tholian

cryptography. Weve been reviewing some of the

coded messages between the commander of the

Tholian ship and his contact on their homeworld. You

may find this interesting.

Duffy didnt try to hide his surprise as he looked to

Abramowitz. Coded messages? You mean you

tapped into their communications? He couldnt help

but be amused when Abramowitz didnt reply imme-diately,

but instead actually shuffled her feet, as if

uncertain how to answer his question.

Um, I kind of intercepted and recorded all of the

transmissions to and from the Tholian ship while we

were maintaining contact. She shrugged her shoul-ders

and widened her eyes, the very picture of inno-cence.

Maybe I hit the wrong button?

For nearly every moment since the attack, Duffy

had been gripped with apprehension that he had

somehow unwittingly prompted the Tholians

actions, and that something he had done or ordered

had resulted in the Defiant and his teammates being

lost in the rift. He saw now that his friends had prob-ably

harbored similar concerns, and had channeled

that anxiety toward finding an answer. Maybe the

true motivation behind the attack was somewhere in

these transmissions, just waiting to be discovered.

Thats very, um . . . damn, Carol. Youre good.

Abramowitz smiled. I listened in once or twice, but

I couldnt make sense of any of it. Tholian speech

sounds like someone grinding glass, let alone whatev-er

scrambling protocols they add. I thought it would

be useless to us, until I talked to Bart.

Aside from being a master linguist, Bartholomew

Faulwell had been steadily carving a reputation for

himself in Starfleet circles as a crack cryptographer.

One of the oldest members of the da Vinci crew,

Faulwell had been one of a legion of minds tapped by

Starfleet brass during the Dominion War to aid in sift-ing

through enemy communications. His quick and

accurate translations of garbled or encrypted trans-missions

had proved vital to admirals planning strate-

gic moves for the allied forces. Had the war still been

waging, Duffy knew that the S.C.E. would most cer-tainly

not be reaping the benefits of Faulwells skills.

Faulwell let his smile grow a bit as he patted

Abramowitz on the shoulder. We dont know much,

but its a start. Tholian communiqus are typically

brief, probably out of fear that somebody will try to

do just what were doing. We can tell you one thing

for certain, though. Our escort ship was ordered to

fire on the Defiant, and on us, by the Assembly.

Duffys brow knit in confusion. So they didnt just

go space-happy, then. Any clues as to why they

attacked us?

Absolutely, Faulwell replied. The last thing sent

to the Assembly before returning the order to fire was

the same tricorder information that Captain Gold

sent to us from the Defiant about whatever it was the

away team found.

Of course, Duffy thought. The away team had found

a mechanism of Tholian design stored in one of the

Defiants cargo bays. After recording detailed scans of

the device, Captain Gold had notified the commander

of the Tholian ship, Nostrene, about their discovery.

And naturally, things had gone to hell shortly after-ward.

So what is it about that gadget that has the

Tholians all worked up? he asked. Based on the

information P Blue had gathered and on the theory

she had put forth, Duffy and Stevens had figured out

that the strange device found by the away team was

some sort of power emitter. Using that as a starting

point, they had scoured the da Vincis databanks for

all references to Tholian encounters by Starfleet

ships. Sensor scans recorded by various vessels dur-ing

those engagements supported Patties hypothesis

that the mechanism she had found was similar in

design to those employed by Tholian ships to gener-ate

their infamous energy webs. But what was so

secret about that? The Federation had known about

the Tholians web technology for more than a century.

What was so special about this particular piece of

equipment?

Duffy shook his head in growing frustration. He

wasnt used to not having all the pieces to a puzzle

within easy reach. As an engineer, he prided himself

on being able to see to the heart of any problem based

solely on the evidence available to him at the time.

The answers were here, he knew, somewhere in the

midst of the data gathered by the da Vincis sensors or

by the away team. It would simply require more time

to sift through it. Time, however, was something he

was quickly running out of.

Still, he did have enough time to show his gratitude

to a pair of specialists willing to take the mugato by

the horn. It was just such initiative that made Duffy

appreciate the rewards of command.

This is great, you two, he said, returning his atten-tion

to Faulwell. Ill make sure to report this to

Captain Gold after I buy you both dinner at the best

restaurant aboard this ship. He smiled again. Once

this is all over, Bart, youll have plenty of new materi-al

to write Anthony about.

Commander Duffy!

It was Lieutenant David McAllan. More so than the

words themselves, the sound of alarm coming from

the da Vincis typically reserved tactical officer caught

the entire bridge crew off guard and made Duffy jerk

his head in the direction of the tactical station.

You need to see this, McAllan said, his face not

turning from his console viewer. As Duffy started in

that direction, he was followed not only by Stevens

but also by Domenica Corsi, whom Duffy knew was

just waiting at her security officers post for any sign

of trouble. Duffy hoped this would end up disap-pointing

her.

Looking up from his console, the tactical officers

face was pale as he said, Its the Tholians,

Commander. Long-range sensors have just picked up

six ships heading this way at maximum warp,

and . . .

And what, Lieutenant? Duffy looked down at the

consoles tactical viewer, which depicted six solid

blips, representations of Tholian ships, flying in a

hexagonal configuration. Amid the configuration was

something that Duffy had a hard time discerning

from the viewer.

Sensors read it as pure energy, McAllan reported.

Its fluctuating slightly in intensity, but keeping pace

with the Tholian ships.

Judging from the readings, Duffy saw that the ener-gy

output was intense, incorporating the power of a

dozen photon torpedo explosions in a stable field or

cloud. . . .

Or a web.

Stevens elbowed his way past Duffy to get a look for

himself, tapping a few commands on the consoles

smooth surface and pausing to read the streams of

data now scrolling next to the tactical image. He

laughed in spite of his assessment of it all.

Now thats pretty clever! Stevens looked back up

at Duffy, his smile evident but quickly fading. Clever

strictly from a tactical point of view, I mean. Sorry,

Duff.

Duffy decided not to dampen Stevenss enthusiasm.

It was just that kind of appreciation for the enemy

that would motivate the tactical expert to calculate

the appropriate defense against them. Fabian, is that

what I think it is?

It is, if you think its an energy field capable of fry-ing

the systems of several starships at once. Stevens

studied the tactical viewer once more and nodded.

Those ships are generating a net of power thats a

thousand meters in diameter, Duff. Think of it as a

massive butterfly net, and guess who the butterfly is.

Duffy weighed his options for the da Vinci Hold the

ships position and become ensnared in the Tholians

deadly web, or retreat and lose their fix on the inter-spatial

rift, as well as their away team, for good.

How much time do we have, Fabian?

Stevenss expression was grave as he consulted his

console one last time. If they maintain their speed,

the Tholians will be here in about an hour.

Captains log stardate .. My engineer and sci-ence

officer have spent the past twelve hours examining

the alien object recovered from the destroyed Klingon

colony on Traelus II. They theorize that, when com-bined

with other similar devices we found deployed at

equidistant positions around the colonys perimeter, it

generated an energy field enshrouding the entire settle-ment.

Residual energy traces recorded by the landing

party indicate the field was lethal to any living being

within its sphere of influence. Judging by the condition

of the Klingon bodies we found, it wasnt a particularly

pleasant way to die, either.

David Gold could almost feel his blood chill as he

once again regarded the image of Thomas Blair, the

CHAPTER

5

late captain of the Defiant. Unlike the log entries they

had reviewed earlier, the Blair in this excerpt didnt

possess the haunted, exhausted expression that would

dominate his features in those later recordings.

Then again, Gold mused soberly, he didnt know he

was going to die at this point.

Well, he said, this would certainly go a long way

toward explaining why the Tholians were so upset

earlier.

Gomez replied, So the Defiant crew found the

colony, took the web generator for study, and then fell

into the rift while evading Tholian vessels and trying

to get the evidence back to Starfleet Command.

At the science station, Soloman said, There is no

evidence to . . . suggest that the Tholians had knowl-edge

of the Defiants actions before it became . . .

trapped in the rift.

Gold shrugged but nodded in agreement. Perhaps.

Its never been discussed in an open forum, thats for

sure.

It would not be a . . . wise course of action, the

Bynar replied. According to sensor data I have exam-ined

. . . along with reports filed by the . . . landing

party, the colony was defenseless, particularly by . . .

Klingon standards. The Tholians attacked a . . . group

of unarmed civilians.

From where she knelt next to a seated and now con-scious

P Blue, Dr. Lense looked up from tending the

Nasats head injury. Why would they do that? I mean,

the Tholians are aggressive, but isnt that a bit

extreme?

Gold shook his head. We know that the Tholians

have always been fiercely protective of their space. I

guess we just didnt realize at the time to what lengths

they would go in the interests of that protection.

All this time, Gomez said, the Defiant held the

key to a terrible secret.

It still does, Gold replied. The Klingons never

found out what happened at Traelus II, and by all

reports they were more than a bit upset over the inci-dent.

If word of the Tholians involvement reaches the

Klingons now, some in the Empire may well want

vengeance.

So the Tholians try to destroy us, only we get

pulled back into the rift, Lense said. Lucky us.

What about the da Vinci? Pattie asked, her voice

weak and tired.

Gold strolled around the bridges upper deck in the

Nasats direction, talking as he went. Well, either Mr.

Duffy followed orders and evacuated the area, or he

was forced to fight. In that case, the da Vinci disabled

the Tholian vessel . . . or she didnt.

The statement hung in the air for several seconds,

with no one on the bridge wanting to respond.

Realizing the somber mood he had inflicted on his

people, Gold rallied quickly.

At any rate, Im afraid we have more pressing con-cerns.

Turning his attention to P Blue, he asked,

Pattie? How are you feeling?

Pattie nodded slowly. I will recover, Captain.

Turning to Lense, she added, Many pardons for the

trouble I caused you, Doctor.

Lense patted the Nasat on the nearest of her eight

limbs, then rose to her feet to face Gold. She ran a

hand through her matted hair, thankful for finally

being able to remove her environment suits helmet.

Ive treated her concussion, Captain. Shell have a

headache for a bit, but its the best I can do until we

get her back to the da Vinci.

Gold nodded. Well see to that as best we can,

Doctor.

The attention of everyone on the bridge was caught

as the overhead lighting dimmed and the displays on

the various consoles flickered. Gold could even hear

the mild hiss of the air-circulation system fade

momentarily.

Whats that about? he asked.

Soloman was already examining the sensor data

being relayed to the science station. We are experi-encing

. . . a power fall-off. It is affecting all . . . of the

generators we brought with us from the da Vinci.

How bad is it? Gomez aske d as she moved to the

bridges engineering station.

At the current rate of drop-off, the Bynar replied,

the generators will be completely drained . . . of

power in less than two hours.

Damn, Gomez spat, drawing a questioning look

from Gold and the others. With an embarrassed

expression on her face, she said, Kieran suggested

that we bring along backup power supplies for the

generators, but I decided against that. She shook her

head in disgust. The generators can normally oper-ate

for days without interruption, and I figured wed

be here for eight to ten hours at most. By then, the da

Vinci would have pulled us out of the rift.

Something tells me that Mr. Duffy will have plenty

of colorful observations about all of this when we get

back, Lense said. Looking at the viewscreen and the

matte of darkness that had once been the opening to

the rift, she added, That is, if we get back.

Enough of that, Gold snapped. Weve just been

given a deadline for getting out of here, people, and

we cant afford to waste time with defeatist gabbing.

Turning to the science station, he asked, Soloman,

can you calculate the time until the next interphase?

The Bynar spent several moments peering into the

consoles viewfinder before turning back to the group

with a troubled expression on his face.

According to the data I have . . . at my disposal, the

next interphase should occur in . . . three hours and

twelve minutes.

Gold absorbed the report. It was simple to under-

stand, really. The power supplies of the generators

would be exhausted more than an hour before the

next interphase.

Why didnt we register the power drain before? he

asked.

It was Gomez who replied. Up until the attack, the

Defiant was always on the threshold of the rift. Now

that were completely enveloped in interspace, the

negative effects associated with it must be intensi-fied.

What about the power cells in our suits? Pattie

asked. They should be affected as well.

Gomez activated her tricorder and quickly scanned

her suits control panel, located on her left sleeve.

There is a minor power drain, but its not alarming.

She frowned at the tricorder readings. They should

be fine at least until the next interphase, but Im not

sure Id bet on them.

Well, its all we have for now, Gold said. So rather

than worry about it, I think wed be better served by

finding a way out of here. Looking over at Soloman,

he said, Give me a scan of the rift opening, or at least

the area where it used to be.

Soloman turned to the sensor displays once more,

his small hands playing over the controls of the sci-ence

station. Gold noted with satisfaction that the

Bynar had become so fluent with the antiquated con-trol

panels that one would think he had been born to

serve on this ship. Soloman seemed quite at home

there, the da Vinci captain thought, toiling away at

the science station with the viewfinders telltale blue

glow washing over his face. It was in stark contrast to

the rest of the bridge illumination that reflected off

the back of his pale, bald head.

The Bynars head . . . so small and fragile. Gold

imagined he could feel the smooth texture of

Solomans skin beneath his fingers, could almost feel

the curve of his skull as he at first caressed, then

pressed harder, yearning to hear the final satisfying

crack of the slim neck supporting-

What?

Gold wasnt aware that hed fallen until his tailbone

struck the deck and the back of his head smacked

against the side of the captains chair. The dull ache

from the dual impacts had barely begun to assert

itself before he felt a hand on his arm.

Captain, are you all right? Lense asked, already

waving her tricorder near the area of his head that

had struck the chair.

Reaching up to wipe his brow, Gold blinked several

times in an attempt to reorient himself. He looked up

to see the entire away team staring down at him,

nearly identical expressions of concern etched on

their faces.

Am I? I . . . I dont know, he said, his voice

unsteady. One minute I was watching Soloman

working, and the next I was . . . I was imagining . . .

The murderous anxiety he had felt only seconds

before threatened to wash over him again, and he bit

down on the rest of the sentence, leaving the remain-ing

words unspoken.

Lense lowered her tricorder. The theragen in your

system has begun to lose its effectiveness. She

retrieved a hypospray from her medical kit and

checked its setting. Its as if were all building up a

tolerance for the drug. Shaking her head, she added,

Im going to increase the dosage for all of us, but at

this rate, my supply wont last more than a few

hours.

Gold cast a final, guilty look at Soloman as he drew

a deep breath to calm himself. The horrid vision that

had filled his mind only moments before continued to

burn in his memory. Even as the theragen took hold

in his bloodstream and he felt the anxiety that had

gripped him begin to dissipate, he knew that the

image of his hands closing around the Bynars head

would haunt him long after this mission was over.

Soloman, he said in a subdued voice, what did

your sensor scans reveal?

There are . . . residual energy traces indicating the

rifts entrance, sir, Soloman replied. I am able to

determine the boundaries of the opening.

If we can detect it, Gomez said, then maybe we

can find a way to force it open.

Rising from his seat, Soloman said, Opening the

rift may not present . . . much difficulty, Commander.

A great deal of force may not . . . be required.

How so? Gold asked.

I see what he means, Gomez cut in. When the da

Vincis deflector and tractor beams were locked onto

us, the interspatial pocket seemed to react in the

opposite direction, exerting more and more force to

hold us here. But we might be able to overcome that

resistance by pushing ourselves through the rift from

within.

Gold frowned, not entirely convinced. With what?

The Defiants maneuvering thrusters couldnt possibly

be strong enough to push us out.

It was Pattie who provided one possible solution.

Perhaps the warp drive could be used.

Gomez made no effort to hide the skepticism on her

face as she regarded the Nasat. The warp engines are

as cold as ice, Pattie. The dilithium crystals have

decayed to nothing, and even if we had one, wed still

have to find the right intermix formula. It would take

at least thirty minutes to initiate a restart of the warp

core. And then theres always the possibility that the

engines wont stand the strain of restarting and will

buckle completely.

Pattie shook her head as she rose from her seat at

the bridges communications console. No, no. My

apologies for not explaining myself. I was thinking

that we could use the generators we brought with us

to provide a quick start to the warp drive. The action

would almost certainly drain the generators within

seconds, but it should be enough to provide a short-duration

warp pulse that could push us through the

rift.

Why does that sound as crazy as I think it does?

Lense asked.

But Gomez was nodding at the Nasats idea. No, its

not crazy. Ive seen something like it done before,

when I was on the Enterprise. She quickly relayed the

story of the time that Geordi La Forge, the Enterprises

chief engineer, and the son of the ships doctor had

devised a scheme to jump-start the warp engines of

an eighty-year-old starship. They had used a minute

amount of dilithium and some antimatter that the

boy had retrieved from one of his ongoing science

experiments. The warp pulse had lasted only two

seconds, but it was enough to get the old ship out of

harms way when a renegade Ferengi marauder

showed up and attempted to hijack the vessel.

The generators might be able to provide the neces-sary

power for such a pulse, she said. But even if we

can manage that, is there any antimatter down in

engineering?

Anything in the warp core itself would have been

automatically ejected from the ship once power was

lost, Pattie replied. But there may still be some in

magnetic storage bottles.

Gold had until this point stood silently, observing

with unabashed admiration as his engineering spe-cialists

talked out their makeshift plan. Watching his

people in their element always gave him the feeling

that there was no problem they couldnt solve, no

obstacle they couldnt overcome.

What do you think, Commander? he asked

Gomez. Can we do it?

Gomez rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Well need to

use at least three of the generators to trigger the warp

engine restart. That will leave two to provide power

for the thrusters and the bridge systems.

We can use the thrusters to maneuver closer to the

edge of the rift, Pattie added. The effect of the warp

fields abrupt activation should provide enough dis-ruption

to open the rift and push us through.

Gomez shook her head slowly. Well only get one

shot at this, though. If the restart is successful and

doesnt shred the warp engines, it will drain the power

from the generators within seconds.

Gold liked the bold plan being presented by his offi-cers.

Given a choice between actively seeking a way

out of their predicament or simply waiting for their

power systems to deplete themselves, he preferred the

more aggressive option. He had never been one to sit

idly by and wait for fate or luck to visit him, not when

he had the opportunity to fashion his own course of

action.

Besides, he wasnt ready to abandon the Defiant just

yet, not while any chance of salvaging her still

remained. He knew that the ship held a political pow-der

keg in its cargo hold, but he refused to accept

that, after all they had ultimately sacrificed, the

deaths of the men and women aboard the Defiant

would amount to nothing more than the spark to

ign ite an interstellar war.

Maybe it doesnt have to be that way.

The thought came unbidden, catching Gold by sur-prise.

Did it mean what he thought it meant? Could

he bring himself to destroy the evidence the Defiants

crew had recovered and tried to bring home when

fate had cruelly intervened?

It would be so easy to do, ordering the ship to trav-el

deeper into the rift. Maybe theyd tumble into the

other universe, forever lost to any recovery attempts

from their own side of interspace. He could give the

necessary orders, and he was confident that his crew

would understand his reasoning. The greater political

good would be served.

But not Captain Blair and his people, Gold reminded

himself. They wouldnt be served at all.

No matter the consequences, it would do the

Defiant crew a tremendous disservice to cover up the

details of their last mission for the sake of political

expediency. Therefore, he would do everything in his

power to see the vessel, and its crew, returned safely

home.

Dismissing the troubling thoughts, Gold said, Lets

get started, then. Sonya, take Pattie and Dr. Lense to

assist you. Soloman and I will remain here and guide

the ship to the edge of the rift. He smiled grimly at

his team. Work quickly, people. Time is most defi-nitely

not our ally today.

Like it ever is, Lense said as she donned her hel-met

in preparation for the journey down to engineer-ing.

Gomez smiled to herself as she added, It just

wouldnt be an S.C.E. mission without a time

crunch.

The last time Duffy had sat in the da Vincis briefing

room, he had been thankful for Captain Scotts words

of advice. Hed also been buoyed by the captains

attempts to buy them the time they needed to salvage

their mission and come home from Tholian space

with a lost starship, or at least with every member of

the da Vincis crew. Now all Duffy could think was that

the veteran leader of the engineering troubleshooters

had wasted his efforts.

Within half an hour the six Tholian ships they had

detected would be here, bringing with them their

massive energy net and looking to snare anything in

their collective path, most notably the da Vinci.

It wouldnt have mattered now if ol Scotty had

CHAPTER

6

bought us a year. If were not out of here before long,

were done for.

He shook off the thought and focused his eyes once

again on the briefing rooms main viewer and its pro-jection

of the tactical image that had burned itself

into his mind not more than thirty minutes earlier.

Okay, lets go over it one more time. Run it again,

Fabian.

Stevens entered a series of commands into the key-pad

next to the viewer and the image reset itself. Six

cones representing Tholian ships en route to the da

Vincis current position now glowed a threatening red

in the screens upper-left corner.

Amid the cones was an amber-colored grid, seem-ingly

innocuous on the screen but representing the

potential to destroy the da Vinci in one fell swoop.

Just below and to the right of the screens center was

a soft blue dot for the da Vinci, which Duffys ever-wicked

mind underscored with the caption You are

here, just to lighten his mental load. To the virtual da

Vincis right was a field of blue, a computer-simulated

haze marking the area of interphase that, up until

now, had drawn the bulk of Duffys attention.

Stevens tapped once more and the tactical image

sprang to life. The six cones bore down on the da

Vinci in formation.

This variety of the Tholian web has never been

observed in the field by anyone from Starfleet, he

said as he pointed to the configuration of red and

amber shapes. It differs from the web employed by

Tholian ships for more than a hundred years, which

was literally spun around a craft, then constricted.

Once the energy field made contact, the trapped ship

was powerless at best, or destroyed.

That seems like a lot of energy to maintain among

those ships, Domenica Corsi said, her brow knitting

in confusion as she studied the computer model.

Why did they engage the web so far from our posi-tion?

Stevens shrugged. Who can tell? Maybe they

hoped it would act as a deterrent. If I were in a

Tholian ship, Id rather scare an enemy away than

engage one in combat. Even with the web drawing its

energy from their ships warp fields, as Im guessing it

does, flying around at high warp with that thing glow-ing

hot is still a safer alternative for the Tholians than

getting shot at.

That made sense to Duffy. The Tholians probably

charged their energy web many more times than they

actually used it. Even theories on the widespread

damage such a web would be capable of wreaking on

a snared craft would shoo away the most wizened

combat veteran.

Deterrent? They obviously dont know what kind of

thickheaded people theyre dealing with today, he

said in a deadpan voice.

Stevens laughed in response as Corsi scowled.

Duffy couldnt help but smirk a little himself. There

was nothing like knowing your audience.

Corsi studied the screen for another moment before

saying, Its pretty obvious that we either fight or run.

How do we fight it?

Stevens reached for the keypad once again, the

image on the screen responding to his commands. I

dont know how many ships we really need to disable

in order to shut the web down. I recommend target-ing

no less than three of them, but Im hoping that

getting two might be enough for us to slip through

their fingers. That is, if Tholians have fingers.

On the viewer, the images perspective jumped as

the distance tightened between the Tholian cluster of

ships and the da Vinci. Suddenly a line of white

lanced from the Federation ships position, connect-ing

to one of the red cones. Two more lines quickly

followed it, each one homing in on a ship directly

adjacent to the first target. As the animation played

out, the Tholian ships broke from their hexagonal for-mation

and swooped past the dot representing the da

Vinci.

Looks good in theory, Fabian, Duffy said as Corsi

nodded her approval.

Stevenss expression was appreciative, yet he main-tained

his attitude of concern. Thats not to say,

though, that the remaining ships cant just regroup

and come back at us with a smaller web. He paused

for the others to digest his assessment. What we real-ly

need is another ship on our side.

Yeah. Wouldnt that be nice, Duffy mused.

He had an idea of what to expect, should things not

go in their favor, but he voiced the question nonethe-less.

And when, uh, if were hit by the web?

Stevens entered the command to freeze the tactical

animation on the viewer. Again, Duff, Im just guess-ing.

It might smoke all of our systems, and that could

just shut us down, or it might force us into a warp-core

breach. Hell, that thing might cut through us like

an exoscalpel.

To Duffy, it was obvious from the silence that sud-denly

descended upon the room that his two com-panions

were envisioning their own worst-case sce-narios

for the da Vincis entrapment. Before Duffy had

much of a chance to mentally unspool his fate for

himself, however, Stevens took a step toward the

briefing rooms door.

As much as I hate to break up this party, Duff, I

need just a couple of minutes to run the last check on

my deflector equation.

Duffy nodded his head. Sure. Hey, Fabian, try not

to blow us up before the Tholians get here. Theyll be

upset if we take all the fun out of it for them.

Stevens just smiled and left the room, leaving Duffy

with Corsi and the still-illuminated tactical display.

The security chief visibly stiffened in her seat, and

Duffy knew that she was about to unload her true

feelings about their current situation to him. He held

up his hand to her, cutting her off just as she opened

her mouth.

Okay, its not as bad as it sounds, he said.

Corsi didnt ease up. What is Stevens planning to

do?

Fabian says hes thrown just about every combina-tion

of stimuli he can channel through the deflector

dish at the rift. Everything except a warp field. Duffy

paused, noting the frown on Corsis face. I know

youre not an engineer, and most times you could give

two bloodworms about tech talk, but bear with me

here. Fabian thinks that maybe the rift shows some of

the same characteristics as a wormhole. Hes going to

siphon off some plasma from the warp nacelles, mix

it with some artificial veteron particles, and channel

it all through the deflector dish. Its risky, but the

upside is that the rift could flash open like a Bolian

skyfire.

Corsi seemed unconvinced. And the downside?

Duffys gaze faltered, and he looked away before

replying. We could blow out the deflector and short

out the warp drive.

Commander, that is as bad as it sounds.

Despite her response, Corsis expression wasnt

nearly as fierce as Duffy had anticipated it would be.

Of all the unexpected twists that this mission had

thrown at him so far, one thing he never, ever would

have bet on was that hed find a supportive ally in

Domenica Corsi. He had to admit that heading into

battle against the Tholians didnt seem as fearsome a

prospect with her at his side. Corsi had kept a level

head when he himself had come close to losing all

composure. In her eyes, Duffy saw the desire to

believe in the plan, to try one last time to pull the

Defiant, and more importantly their friends, from a

fate even worse than death at the hands of the

Tholians.

Nah, its no big deal, Duffy lied. Youd under-stand

it all with a little more training in warp theory.

And you know, I could steer you toward some good

texts on the subject if you need a little night reading.

That would not be the way Id choose to spend my

nights, Mr. Duffy. Corsi cracked a hint of a smile as

the ships intercom sounded its hailing chime. In the

moment before the chime was followed by a voice,

Duff y chastised himself for wondering just how Corsi

did spend her nights.

Duff? Im ready to go out here and times a wastin.

The two rose from the oval table without answering

Stevenss invitation. As they moved to take their posts

on the bridge, Duffy noticed himself crossing almost

too naturally to the center seat. However, as he settled

into the chair, he gripped its armrests a little too tight-

ly, feeling as though it was he who would be fired into

the rift instead of the deflectors delicate intermix.

Boy, will I be glad when this is over.

Mr. Stevens, engage the deflector beam, he said,

hoping that the trembling he thought he heard in his

voice was strictly in his imagination. Duffys eyes did

not leave the main viewer as Stevens activated the

deflector.

He saw no beam.

What he did see was a shower of sparks and fire

erupting from the science console, and Stevens

throwing himself away from the billowing smoke and

hungry flames.

Fabian! Duffy shouted, leaping from his seat and

bolting to where his friend had landed on the deck.

Im all right, Stevens said, rolling onto his side

and grimacing slightly from the abrupt impact.

Looking at Corsi, Duffy called out, Damage

report!

The security officers fingers were almost a blur as

she fed commands to her console. I cant get any diag-nostics

from the deflector relay system. The dish is

either damaged or destroyed. Im routing a damage-control

team there now. After another few seconds

she looked up from her station. The warp drive is off-line.

There was feedback from the deflector to the

plasma conduits from the warp nacelles and it caused

an overload. Engineering reports they may have to

shut down the warp core.

Everyone on the bridge knew what Corsis words

really meant. With the Tholian ships only minutes

away, the da Vinci was, for all intents and purposes, a

sitting duck. There was no way they would be able to

outrun the enemy vessels without warp drive.

Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Duffy launched him-self

from where he had knelt next to Stevens and

raced to the turbolifts doors. He was carried at first

by instinct, but his sense of duty to the da Vincis crew

kicked him into an even higher gear. As it was, he had

to brake himself so as to avoid slamming bodily into

Corsi, who had materialized between him and the tur-bolift

with the efficiency of a transporter.

Where the hell are you going? she demanded, her

eyes boring into Duffys.

I can have warp back on-line in three minutes, he

said, moving to push past her. The turbolift doors

hissed open at his approach, but he was halted by

Corsis hand clamping down on his arm with the

strength of a vice.

You cant leave this bridge, she said, her icy-calm

voice belying the force she was exerting to keep him

in place. The Tholians will be here any minute.

Duffy wrenched his arm free from Corsis grip and

backpedaled into the waiting turbolift. As he stepped

into the car, he met the gazes of the bridge crew and

at that instant felt certain that he was doing the right

thing. Captain Scott had said it himself An engineers

job was to keep his crew safe.

Well, that was a captains job as well, Duffy decided.

The da Vinci was hardly safe from the Tholians with-out

the power to jump to warp speed, and no one

knew those engines better than he did. Acting as cap-tain

or engineer, Duffy knew there was only one place

for him to be right now.

Three minutes! he said to Corsi, hoping the

urgent volume in his voice would slow her down.

When it didnt, he finally resorted to the words that

would stop her dead in her tracks.

Commander Corsi, you have the conn.

And stop she did.

With a grim smile on his lips, he called out

Engineering! and the turbolifts doors slammed

shut. He felt the customary lurch in the pit of his

stomach as the car dropped him from the bridge into

the bowels of the ship.

Sonya Gomez regarded the master systems display

panel in the Defiants engineering section and mar-veled

once again at the antiquated controls. Though

the systems she was used to overseeing were vastly

more advanced, she still perceived the echoes of func-tion

and purpose in the consoles around her. The

admiration she felt for the engineers of this vessel and

the bygone era it represented grew with every hour

she spent here. More than once during this mission,

she had imagined a younger Montgomery Scott, more

than a century before he would come to lead the

Starfleet Corps of Engineers, proudly riding herd on

massive engines like the ones that had once powered

the Defiant. The thought brought with it a momentary

CHAPTER

7

twinge of envy.

The rd century, Gomez decided, had to have been

a more challenging time to be an engineer. With ships

out of contact with command bases for weeks and

sometimes months at a time, no SpaceDock facilities

or starbases could be relied upon for repairs. Ships

engineers were the ultimate masters of their vessels

fates. The crews of ships like the Defiant had pushed

back the frontiers of unknown space and expanded

the storehouse of knowledge that she and many mod-ern-

day Starfleet officers took for granted.

The modifications to the generators are complete,

Pattie reported, moving from the main engineering

area to stand next to Gomez. They are tied into the

warp drive, and I have programmed a new start-up

sequence into the main computer.

Gomez nodded in satisfaction. Their preparations

were finished, and with any luck they would all be

back on the da Vinci within thirty minutes. She, for

one, would be glad for that. Despite what she might

feel for this ship and the rd century, she had grown

weary of traipsing around the derelict ship in near

darkness and chancing upon the scattered remains of

the Defiants crew. She had also grown tired of being

forced to listen to the echo of her own breathing

inside her helmet. If she were granted one wish, she

decided it would be to never wear an environment

suit again for the rest of her life.

Thanks, Pattie, she replied, turning to smile at her

Nasat companion. Despite having what must surely

be a splitting headache, thanks to her concussion,

Pattie had plunged into preparing the generators for

the unorthodox task they would shortly undertake. It

hadnt been a simple proposition, either. Tying the

modern-day components to the century-old power

distribution systems had required even more finess-ing

than Gomez had used to install the generators to

begin with.

And assuming they succeeded in pushing the

Defiant out of the rift, what was waiting for them on

the other side? Was the da Vinci . . . was Kieran

standing by to help them? To help her? What had

happened after the Defiant had been forced back into

interspace? Had Kieran made a stand and tried to

protect the away team, or had he been forced to

retreat? Had he managed to disable or destroy the

Tholian ship, or . . . ?

Gomez couldnt bring herself to complete the

thought. It was probably just as well, she decided. The

coming minutes would require her complete atten-tion.

She couldnt afford distractions, especially now.

The telltale sounds of a tricorder made her turn

around to see Dr. Lense waving the device over

Patties head.

Problem, Doctor? Gomez asked.

Lense shook her head. Just checking for signs that

Pattie might be starting to feel the effects of inter-phase.

So far, shes fine. She smiled at the diminutive

engineer. Must be that sturdy Nasat constitution.

Too bad she cant share any of that, Gomez said

with a grim smile of her own. Her mood turned seri-ous

again, however, when she asked, Elizabeth, how

much longer do you think your supply of theragen

will hold out?

I really dont know, the doctor replied. The inoc-ulations

are continuing to lose their potency and the

effective period for each successive dose is decreasing

rapidly. Id give us another couple of hours before it

loses its effectiveness altogether.

Gomez had no intention of being around when that

happened. She had no desire to revisit the panic and

sheer terror shed experienced earlier in the Jefferies

tube. So long as there remained options that would

let her fight to avoid it, she refused to consign herself

to such a fate.

Well, Im ready to see about getting us out of here,

she said as she activated her communicator.

* * *

Gomez to Captain Gold. Were all set down here, sir.

On the Defiants bridge, David Gold smiled in satis-faction

to himself. As good as her word, Sonya Gomez

and her team had completed their modifications well

within the time remaining to them before their power

supplies succumbed to the effects of interphase. They

would indeed get their one chance to push the Defiant

from the rift.

Excellent work, Commander, he said. Stand by.

Stepping down into the bridges command well, the

da Vinci captain moved to stand next to Soloman,

who was seated at the ships helm. Putting a hand on

the Bynars shoulder, Gold asked, Are we ready?

Soloman nodded. Thrusters are continuing to . . .

function normally, Captain. They should provide suf-ficient

power to . . . maneuver us out of the rift

once . . . Commander Gomez triggers the warp pulse.

Fine, Gold replied. Of course, he couldnt stop

from asking himself what they might expect to find

on the other side of the rift. If they were successful,

would they be greeted by the welcome sight of the da

Vinci, or the ominous presence of a Tholian battle

fleet?

As if hearing the unspoken thought, Gomez said,

We might not be able to see whats waiting for us,

Captain, but I might be able to give us a bit of insur-ance.

I can divert power from our remaining genera-tors

to the shields and maybe one phaser bank. Wed

have to sacrifice access to the main computer and life

support to the bridge, though.

Gold needed no time to consider his options. Take

whatever power you need, Sonya, but make sure we

retain sensor control and the thrusters. As he spoke,

he indicated for Soloman to don his helmet. Moments

later, both of them were once again ensconced in their

environment suits.

Lets do this, Commander, Gold said. Throw the

switch.

Aye, sir, Gomez replied. Brace yourselves up

there. This might get a bit bumpy.

No sooner had Gold moved to the Defiants com-mand

chair than he was thrown bodily into it as the

mighty starship suddenly surged forward. There was

only the briefest of rumblings from the deck plates as

the ships massive warp engines received the single

concentrated burst of power from the away teams

portable generators.

In his minds eye, the da Vinci captain pictured the

spike of energy instantaneously traveling the conduits

that connected the generators to the ships warp drive,

improvising an intermix reaction in the absence of

dilithium. Gold didnt pretend to understand the

mind-numbing complexity that enshrouded the con-cept

of warp propulsion, but he was content in the

knowledge that he commanded people who did. He

knew he could best serve the specialists comprising

the rest of the away team by staying out of their way

and allowing them to do what they did best.

The main viewer registered the Defiants sudden

explosive acceleration as crackling, multihued energy

playing across the screen. It was felt in the ships hull

as well, as deck plates and bulkheads groaned in

protest at the vessels abrupt movements.

Look at that, Gold said. The rift is reacting to the

warp pulse.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the sounds of the

ships struggling warp engines died out. Their effects

on the peculiar interspatial pocket surrounding the

Defiant were still being felt, however. The frenzied

collision of energy continued on the main viewer, its

intensity increasing as the ship hurtled closer to the

edge of the rift.

Gold moved to the science station and activated the

sensor controls. Its working, he said after consult-ing

the viewfinder. The rift is beginning to open.

Hold us on course, Soloman, steady as she goes.

At the helm, Soloman said, Guiding the ship is . . .

proving much easier than anticipated. It seems

that . . . our theory about the rifts resistance was cor-rect.

The relative quiet of the bridge was abruptly shat-tered

as the engineering station erupted in a shower

of sparks and flame. A deafening explosion echoed in

the confines of the ships nerve center, throwing metal

shrapnel and shards of plastic composites across the

bridge. Both Soloman and Gold instinctively ducked,

throwing their arms up and turning away from the

explosion to protect their helmet faceplates. Gold felt

the outside of his suit peppered by debris and prayed

its rugged construction would withstand the bom-

bardment.

Soloman! Are you all right? Gold called out as

another console near the front of the bridge blew

apart, sending both officers scrambling for cover yet

again.

Captain Gold! Gomezs voice called out over his

communicator. Were getting massive feedback from

the warp pulse. Its overloading our circuits.

Golds reply was cut off as sparks burst from the

helm, causing the lights and indicators on the panel

to flicker wildly as the systems contained within the

console fought to retain control.

Get away from there! he yelled to Soloman, but

the Bynar needed no such prodding as he bolted from

his seat and jumped out of the command well. An

instant later the helm console was enveloped in a

vicious ball of flame and exploding circuitry.

Sonya, weve lost helm control up here, Gold said

into his communicator. We cant steer the ship.

Captain, Soloman called out, drawing the cap-tains

attention. Look!

Gold turned in the indicated direction, and his

mouth fell open. Beyond the bulkheads flanking the

main viewer, the hull was losing its solidity and he

could see stars and the roiling energy streams com-prising

the rift.

Were shifting out of interphase, he said. Without

thinking, he looked to the deck at his feet and saw

that the plating had begun to lose its cohesion there

as well. Wiring and conduits were already clearly vis-ible.

Its getting too dangerous to stay here, he said.

Soloman nodded. Phase shifts will be occurring . . .

throughout the ship, sir.

Gold moved to the turbolift, pulling his manual

door opener from a suit pocket as he went. We cant

do anything more from here, so we might as well

move. Sonya, are you listening?

Yes, Captain, Gomez replied.

Forcing the turbolift doors apart with the opener

revealed the darkened walls of the turboshaft.

Leaning in, Gold directed the lights of his helmet

downward and they illuminated nothing except more

of the vertical conduit. Only a pair of narrow mainte-nance

ladders, one on both the front and rear walls of

the shaft, interrupted its smooth texture.

Sonya, wheres the auxiliary control center? he

asked.

Gomezs response was immediate. Deck seven, sir.

Ive already begun routing power to that location. All

you have to do is get there. We can . . .

The rest of the engineers report was drowned out

by the sounds of rushing air. Even muffled as it was

through his helmet, Gold immediately recognized the

source of the sound.

Decompression!

Spinning around, he saw that a section of bulkhead

near the main viewer no bigger than a desktop

LCARS terminal had disappeared entirely. The area

was expanding rapidly and the sounds of escaping

atmosphere were growing louder.

Thats it, he shouted over the rush of departing air.

Time to go!

Grabbing Soloman by the arm, Gold pulled the

Bynar close to him and hurled them both into the

yawning darkness of the turboshaft.

* * *

Sonya Gomez and P Blue worked feverishly at the

master systems console in main engineering, trying to

divert power from damaged or unresponsive areas of

the ship to those that could still be useful. Alarm indi-cators

illuminated across the board, bearing mute tes-timony

to the severity of the situation.

Bridge systems have gone totally inoperative,

Pattie reported as she consulted one display. I am

seeing power fluctuations in the remaining genera-tors.

Cut the feed, Gomez ordered. Stand by to route

whatevers left to deck seven, section -Alpha. With

three of the away teams five generators committed to

the ships warp engines, the remaining units were

being tasked with providing power for the other sys-tems

Gomez had determined were necessary to con-trol

the ship and complete their mission. Now more

than ever, the vessels design was working against her.

Though well-constructed and possessing a perform-ance

record nearly unmatched in the annals of

Starfleet history, Constitution-class starships had

never been intended to rely on small, localized power

distribution schemes. The huge power plants normal-ly

used to drive the ship and its multitude of onboard

systems were, of course, unavailable to her, so she

would simply have to make do with what she had.

Sonya, Elizabeth Lense called out from the other

end of the bank of consoles, Im reading a massive

feedback in the other generators.

It had been a gamble, Gomez knew, tying the gen-erators

directly into the warp drive. Forcing the

momentary burst of energy required to jump-start the

ships mighty engines was definitely not something

the power units were designed to do.

A massive explosion rocked the engineering room,

slamming Gomez and the others into consoles and

bulkheads. The concussion wave was still washing

over them when two more blasts erupted in the cham-ber,

sending flame and shrapnel in all directions.

Gomez could hear it burrowing into the walls and the

control panels around them, but they were partially

protected from the explosions by a wall separating

the master console from the rest of the engineering

area.

Is everybody all right? she called out as she

regained her feet. No one reported any injuries as

Gomez tentatively stepped around the wall and

peered into the main engineering area. A scene of

utter destruction greeted her.

The overloaded generators ultimately had suc-cumbed

to the tremendous energy impulses forced

back into them from the Defiants warp engines,

unleashing a sizable portion of their considerable

power into the room. The resulting explosions had

decimated the chamber, destroying consoles, power

distribution nodes, even hurling debris into the ships

impulse engines. Gomez doubted that more damage

could have been inflicted had the room been subject-ed

to the detonation of a photon torpedo. It was sad-dening

to see the once-vibrant heart of the starship

reduced to near ruin.

At the master console, Pattie had already shaken off

the effects of the explosions and had returned to

work. Power has been rerouted to auxiliary control,

Commander.

Gomez acknowledged the report, knowing that the

two remaining generators were the only things pre-venting

the Defiant from reverting to the lifeless hulk

they had originally discovered. Already burdened

with the requirements of supplying power to essential

systems, the surviving units might also be needed to

deal with whatever awaited them on the other side of

the rift.

As if sensing her troubled thoughts, Lense said,

Youve done all you can, Sonya. Its up to the captain

and Soloman now.

The sentiment, well-intentioned as it was, did little

to ease Gomezs mounting frustration. What she real-ly

heard was There is absolutely nothing more you can

do about it.

Okay, so its taking more than three minutes.

A bead of perspiration rolled into Duffys right eye

as he lay on his back, his head once again shoved

through a bulkhead opening and into the mesmeriz-ing

glow of the da Vincis warp-drive control s ystem.

He squinted and blinked the sweat from his eye, try-ing

to refocus his sight on rerouting circuitry paths.

When he first stormed into main engineering and

tore open an access panel seemingly at random, other

engineers looked at Duffy as if the space madness had

finally caught up with the young commanding officer.

He now chuckled to himself as he thumbed the con-trols

of his handheld nanopulse laser and sealed the

last of the shorted connections. Even a seasoned engi-

CHAPTER

8

neer might have needed precious minutes simply to

track down the problems keeping the da Vincis warp

engines from functioning. But Duffy had suspected

just where to start looking in the system for effects

from the deflector dish feedback loop, and his

instincts had been correct.

He squirmed his way out of the bulkhead and

pushed himself to his feet. Pointing to one of the

engineers standing nearby, he called out, Conlon!

Finish up here! The ensign rushed to work as Duffy

sped out of engineering, calling over his shoulder,

And let me know the instant its ready!

Though his work in engineering wasnt complete,

Duffy knew he had to be elsewhere. Never in his life

had he wanted to be on the bridge of a starship as

badly as he wanted to be now, he realized as he sprint-ed

down the corridor. His momentum nearly carried

him into the nearby turbolifts doors before they

could whisk open with their signature pneumatic

hiss.

Bridge!

Come on, come ON!

The car began to move and he stared at the ceiling,

as though he could urge the turbolift to travel faster

through sheer force of will. After a handful of seconds

that seemed to last an eternity, the doors finally part-ed

and he didnt so much step onto the bridge as he

hurled himself onto it. Panting, he looked at the main

viewscreen, ready for anything.

Nothing was there but black, empty space.

His breathing slowed somewhat as he whirled to

face Corsi, who stood almost where he had left her

just . . .

Six minutes, thirty-seven seconds, said the securi-ty

officer after a glance at her console. Welcome

back, Commander.

He gasped at her, trying to regain his composure.

We still dont have warp, but we will. He moved to

the center seat and plopped himself into it. Fabian,

keep working. Im playing a hunch that well have

time for one more shot at this.

McAllan spoke up from his tactical station.

Commander, the Tholians are approaching. Theyre

in viewing and communications range.

The final grains of sand were falling through the

hourglass, and the crew of the da Vinci was out of

options. Duffy wanted to get a real look at the threat

that had hung in his minds eye for what seemed like

forever.

Put them on screen.

The dark of space vanished in a flash as an amber

glow radiated from the main viewer. There it was A

deadly hexagon of Tholian ships linked by the power-ful

energy web, burning with what seemed to be a life

of its own. The formation did not waver from its

course as it bore down on the da Vinci.

Duffy didnt blink. He stared at the viewer, refusing

to let the web scare him from saving his crew.

His crew.

Hail them, he ordered. And get ready for a fight.

* * *

The Defiants auxiliary control center was a room

pulsing with life, energy, and purpose as its doors

parted to admit David Gold and Soloman.

Bless you, Sonya, the da Vinci captain said as the

pair moved to the rooms central control console. A

quick glance of the display readouts there showed

that they would be able to control all available sys-tems

from this point.

Thats good, Gold thought, because were running

out of places to go.

The journey from the bridge had been an interest-ing

one, with Gold and Soloman using their suits

small maneuvering thrusters to control their descent

into the turboshaft. By comparison, forcing the doors

to deck seven had been easy, after which Solomans

tricorder had guided them here.

Intended for use only in the event of the main

bridge being destroyed or otherwise compromised,

this room harbored none of the aesthetic niceties that

so characterized the ships primary nerve center. It

was designed solely with function in mind, and at that

moment such efficiency suited David Gold just fine.

Activate the viewscreen, he said. Soloman found

the necessary controls and seconds later the screen on

the far bulkhead flickered to life, its blank slate

replaced with the now-familiar chaos that was the

rift. But it wasnt all that was visible.

Stars, Gold whispered. Indeed, the fabric of

space, with its millions of stars, was growing more

distinct with each passing second. The bold plan put

into motion by Gomez and her team had worked, and

the Defiant was emerging from the rift.

Captain, Soloman said, sensors are detecting the

da Vinci. She is holding station . . . just within trans-porter

range. Continuing to consult the limited infor-mation

provided by the ships scanners, the Bynar

added, I am also reading six Tholian vessels . . . on

an approach vector.

Looking at the displays himself, Gold pointed to

one that displayed a large, undefined energy reading.

Whats that?

It is similar in configuration to . . . the energy webs

normally created by . . . Tholian vessels, Soloman

replied. Though it is not a deployment . . . I am famil-iar

with.

Theyre pulling it like a big fishing net, Gold said,

experience and instinct giving him the answer. They

mean to snare the da Vinci with it.

Soloman nodded. It is of sufficient strength to . . .

overcome the da Vincis shields.

Stand by on the thrusters, Gold said before tap-

ping his communicator. Gold to Gomez. Sonya, I

need whatever power you have left for the deflector

shields, and that phaser bank if you have it.

The engineers reply was most definitely lacking in

enthusiasm. I was really hoping you wouldnt say

that, Captain. This ship cant go into combat.

Gold was well aware of what he had at his disposal.

One hundred years ago, this vessel was the match of

just about anything the Federations known enemies

could throw at her. Now, however, she was a shell of

what she had once been, barely able to move at a limp

and with no real weaponry. Realistically, the Defiant

stood no chance of withstanding any sort of pro-longed

battle.

But that wasnt what he was after. He knew his team

of engineers wouldnt understand immediately, but

that was only natural. After all, he was out of his ele-ment

in the midst of most engineering problems. But

now they were on his turf, playing a game he had

more experience at than he liked to readily admit.

I know, Sonya, but hopefully we wont have to. I

just need the old girl to come through one more

time.

As he studied the bank of tactical displays dominat-ing

the forward bulkhead of his ships command cen-ter,

Nostrene could not help but be amused at the

readings they conveyed. Scans showed that the

Federation ship was still maintaining station near the

last known position of the derelict vessel that had led

Starfleet into Tholian space. It now hung broadside

and vulnerable to the energy net.

The human in command of the rescue ship had to

know that any attack against a Tholian ship would

not go unanswered. Further, if he had paid any atten-tion

to the intelligence briefings Starfleet had surely

provided regarding the Assembly, the human would

also know that when attacked, Tholian vessels always

CHAPTER

9

retaliated without mercy. Any competent commander

would almost certainly realize that a single ship stood

no chance of survival when faced with such a situa-tion.

The prudent course of action would be to flee

rather than risk capture or destruction.

And yet, the Federation ship remained.

Are they damaged? Nostrene asked.

Overseeing the subordinates at the sensor and

weapons stations, Taghrex replied, Not severely,

Commander. Their hyperlight drive appears nonfunc-tional,

but they have full use of weapons and defen-sive

systems.

Can they outrun us at sublight speeds?

The second-in-command turned to study the sensor

displays once more before replying. For a time, but

ultimately we can overtake them, and then the energy

net will do the rest.

Nostrene nodded at the report. Even though their

six ships could deploy only weakened defensive

shields while generating the energy net, he was not

concerned. Once ensnared in its confines, the force of

the mesh would quickly deplete the power reserves of

the enemy ship and leave it helpless against Tholian

weapons. The Starfleet crew would be at the mercy of

their captors within moments.

Taking another look at the scanner readings for

himself, Nostrene shook his head and tried to under-stand

the thought processes of the Federation ships

commander. Even without hyperlight capability, the

human surely must know that being a moving target

was more desirable than being a stationary one.

Nostrene decided that he must either be a reckless

maverick or a nave fool.

We will attack and disable them, he said. The

Magistrates want prisoners, but if necessary we will

destroy them. Taking captives from enemy vessels

was not standard procedure, nor was it something

Nostrene himself preferred to be involved with.

Prisoners were troublesome, even discounting such

things as providing sustenance and environmental

conditions when other races were involved. He would

rather just destroy the Federation vessel and be done

with it, but he knew there were larger concerns here.

The Starfleet crew undoubtedly would have con-tacted

their parent command about their current sit-uation.

There was also the possibility that they had

passed on information regarding the web generator

that the salvage team had discovered aboard the

derelict. Though it was doubtful that the crew of the

recovery ship had learned the true nature of their

fi nd, Nostrene had to proceed as if that were the case.

There was also the matter of obtaining or destroy-ing

the web generator itself. Once he had taken pris-oners

from the rescue ship, Nostrene merely needed

to wait until the vessel trapped in the interdimen-sional

pocket reappeared. If, at that time the genera-

tor could not be retrieved via transporter, then he

would simply order the entire ship destroyed, along

with any Starfleet personnel still aboard it.

Commander, called out the subordinate manning

the communications station, the Starfleet ship is

hailing us. Its commander wishes to speak with you.

Nostrene waved the report away. No response. I

am not interested in anything a human would have to

say.

We are entering weapons range, Taghrex called

out. After a moment he added, The Federation ship

has energized its defense shields and weapons.

Studying the central tactical display before him,

Nostrene noted the Starfleet ships movement, orient-ing

itself to face the incoming attack.

Apparently, the human commander is going to make

a fight of it.

Nostrene was pleased at that thought. He had heard

of the tenacity displayed by Starfleet in combat situa-tions

and had seen reports of their actions during the

Dominion War. Those who fought aboard Federation

ships showed remarkable resolve, even in the face of

certain defeat. It was a trait Nostrene could admire

even in nonTholians. He knew that the brief skirmish

he had experienced earlier with the Starfleet recovery

vessel had not been a true test of its crews mettle, so

it was with great anticipation that he greeted the com-ing

battle.

The subordinate overseeing the tactical scanners

suddenly turned from his station. Commander, I am

detecting a fluctuation in background radiation read-ings.

The interspatial pocket is opening.

How is that possible? Nostrene demanded.

According to the readings obtained by his science

advisor, the rift was not expected to reopen for some

time yet. Put it on screen.

The image on the command decks main viewer

shifted in time for Nostrene and everyone else to see

the mysterious black void appear once more, a gaping

hole in the fabric of space. Seconds later, part of the

rift was itself blocked out as a blue-green shape erupt-ed

from its center.

The other ship, Taghrex exclaimed. It has

returned. Turning to Nostrene, he said, Should we

alter our attack course? It would be powerless to

defend itself against us.

Indeed, Nostrene thought. Even as it emerged from

the rift and shed the multihued cocoon of energy

enshrouding it, the Defiant appeared to be nothing

more than a powerless hulk. Its warp nacelles were

dark, as were the numerous portholes that pock-marked

its surface. It was inconceivable for it to be

capable of mounting any kind of defense.

Negative, he decided. It poses no threat. We will

dispatch the other vessel first. The derelict will still be

there when that task is complete. Turning back to the

row of tactical scanners, he said, Target the rescue

ships weapons banks. Stand by to attack.

That was when the derelict opened fire.

Alarms wailed on the bridge of the da Vinci as an

electric-blue phaser blast sliced through the

viewscreens image of the Tholian attack formation

and connected with the ship anchoring the lower-left

corner of the pulsating, hexagonal web.

Kieran Duffy watched in awe as the stricken enemy

ship reeled from the blow of raw energy and wavered

in its flight. He couldnt believe his eyes as he found

himself in his second battle at the helm of the da

Vinci.

But I know damn well I didnt give any order to fire.

Who the hell is shooting? Duffy shouted as he saw

the web flicker in intensity. It quickly resolidified as

the five remaining ships moved into a pentagon of

CHAPTER

10

offensive power, leaving the injured craft to drift away

from the group.

Stevenss answer was awash with excitement. Duff!

Shes back! The Defiants back!

The news shocked Duffy, then the thrill of it imme-diately

infused his body. The center seat felt electri-fied

to the young commander as he spat order after

order to the bridge crew.

McAllan! Fire a spread on your predetermined tar-gets!

Helm, angle us toward the rift! And put the

Defiant on the viewer, for Gods sake!

As Duffy tried to regain his perspective of the battle

with its new participant, the viewscreens angle now

assisted him with a view of the newly configured

Tholian force and the glowing U.S.S. Defiant. The

century-old starship was moving through the door-way

of its interspatial cage under what appeared to be

its own power. Duffy gasped as the ships secondary

hull and finally its twin nacelles cleared the rending

of space just in time to be called back to active duty

with a vengeance. He squirmed in his seat as he felt

the tide of the battle turning more in their favor.

Oh, Sonnie! You and your timing!

* * *

Direct hit! Gold called out from the sensor con-sole

in the Defiants auxiliary control center. Nice

shooting, Soloman. Peering into the viewfinder

mounted against the rooms rear bulkhead, the da

Vinci captain could see that, although the antiquated

ship had managed to produce a mere half-strength

phaser blast, it had proven enough to pierce the

defensive screens of the Tholian vessel.

After studying the Tholians odd formation, Gold

played a hunch that spoiling the trajectory of one or

more of the ships might have the effect of disrupting

the energy net generated by the group. Watching the

sensor readings on the net flicker and readjust as it

compensated for the spoiled flight path of the ship the

Defiant had just fired on, he was pleased to see his

instincts proven right.

The damaged ship is . . . breaking formation,

Captain, Soloman reported from the auxiliary helm

controls. The remaining vessels are . . . maintaining

their attack vector toward the da Vinci.

His eyes not moving from the viewfinder, Gold said,

Then well have to do it again. Target another of the

ships and stand by to fire.

Engineering to Captain Gold, Gomezs voice fil-tered

through his communicator. Sir, I need a

moment to reroute power. The generators overload-ing,

and I cant feed power to the phasers without sac-rificing

something else.

Route power from the shields, Sonya, Gold said

without hesitation. Take whatever you need for the

phasers, then put everything you have left into the

forward screens.

Captain, Soloman said as he turned from the

helm, with only thrusters to . . . maneuver the ship,

we will be at a distinct . . . tactical disadvantage.

Shrugging as if he was used to taking a vastly out-classed

ship into combat on a daily basis, Gold

replied, If the Tholians finish the da Vinci off, our

defenses wont matter.

During a career of nearly fifty years, Gold had

served aboard and even commanded some of the

most advanced vessels the Federation had to offer. It

therefore seemed ironic to him that his last assign-ment

would be going into combat aboard a dilapidat-ed,

hundred-year-old starship that had spent its entire

lifetime confined to the pages of history.

Lifting his face from the viewfinder, Gold took an

extra second to look around the auxiliary control

room, taking in its archaic design and yet once again

admiring how vibrant and full of life it seemed to be.

After so many years locked away from the rest of the

universe, all but forgotten, the Defiant had emerged

proudly from its prison. Even though it limped and

struggled to overcome its decades of captivity, the

once-mighty starship would still head valiantly

toward its one final mission.

Only in Starfleet, he decided. I guess weird really is

part of the job.

* * *

Come on, people! Were not going to let Captain

Gold take the lead here! Duffy pitched forward in his

seat as a thought struck him.

The Tholians are going to turn on the Defiant!

The irony of being so close to saving the away team,

only to see them die as the Tholian web savaged the

woefully outmatched vessel ripped at Duffys brain.

Time narrowed for the commander as he tapped into

every resource of strategy he could recall every old

Starfleet Academy course, every holographic simula-tion,

every past conversation with Gold or anybody

who ever steered a starship into battle.

Keep after those targets! We have to kill the power

to that web! Duffy studied the Tholian formation and

it became clear that the enemy ships had no intention

of engaging the practically defenseless Defiant. They

were bearing down on the da Vinci, and this moment

was their last to act.

And suddenly, he knew what to do.

Helm, full power to aft-Z axis thrusters, now!

To her credit, the ensign manning the helm didnt

hesitate in the face of the unusual order. Instead, she

quickly fed the string of commands into her console,

and the da Vinci responded with comparable speed.

Though the ships inertial dampeners protected the

crew from feeling its effects, the result of Duffys

order was evident on the main viewer. The stars on

the screen spiraled dizzyingly as the da Vincis

thrusters fired, pushing the ship on a perpendicular

trajectory from the direction it had been facing.

Bring us about, helm, Duffy called out. Port

thrusters only.

The ensign responded, and Duffy imagined he

could feel the ship rotating as it pivoted on its axis.

On the viewscreen, he saw the Tholian battle group

hurtling past the point where the da Vinci had been an

instant before. Then the image shifted as the ship

reoriented itself, and instead of sitting in the path of

the menacing energy net, Duffy now had his best shot

at the Tholian ships as they overshot their mark.

Fire!

Phasers blasted from the da Vinci, catching a

Tholian ship square in its propulsion unit. A second

ship took a fresh blast from the Defiant, a nd the ener-gy

web sparked once before fading entirely from view.

Thats it, Duff, Stevens called out from the science

station. The formation is scattering and the web has

deteriorated completely. It looks like the Tholians are

retreating.

Duffy rose from the command chair, his expression

one of unmasked pride. They had done it! Looks like

its all over except for the bragging. Nice work, people.

Open a channel to the Defiant, and lets see about-

Commander, McAllan said, one of the Tholian

ships has lost all power. Its heading directly for the

rift. Turning his attention back to the viewer, Duffy

saw the lone enemy vessel spinning without control

toward the dark area and the chaotic area of space

behind it.

Helm, intercept course, he ordered. Mr. McAllan,

ready the tractor beam. Lock onto that ship.

At her station, Corsi made no effort to disguise the

shock in her voice. Commander?

His attention focused on the viewscreen, Duffy

ignored her as the tractor beam enveloped the

Tholian ship, instantly stopping its tumbling descent

into the rift.

Got her, Commander, McAllan reported.

Pull them out of there, McAllan, nice and slow.

Looking over at Corsi, Duffy added, And lets hope

somebodys paying attention.

Corsi nodded in agreement, the corners of her

mouth turning upward as she realized what Duffy

was after. No matter what action the Tholians might

take against the two Federation ships, it didnt justify

consigning the disabled Tholian ship to the unpleas-ant

fate awaiting them in the depths of interphase.

McAllan looked up from his tactical console. Were

clear of the rift, sir. We can release her without dan-ger.

Shaking his head, Duffy instead asked, Whats the

status of the other Tholian ships?

The undamaged ships are moving to assist the oth-ers,

McAllan replied. They have broken off their

attack.

Well, then lets extend an olive branch, Duffy said.

Angle the tractor beam to send that ship in their

direction. Helm, lay in a course that will back us away

from the Tholians and toward the Defiant. Taking

one last look at the viewscreen, he added, And Mr.

McAllan, deactivate all weapons.

What? The single word exploded from Corsis

mouth, but she must have realized her grievous lapse

in protocol because she drew a deep breath before

continuing. Commander, that may not be our best

course of action right now.

Duffy nodded. I understand your concerns, but

somebody has to take a chance here. On the viewer,

he watched as the Tholian ship they had rescued, still

guided by the da Vincis tractor beam, moved toward

its companion vessels. After a moment the beam

faded, leaving the damaged ship to move forward

under its own momentum.

One of the other ships is moving toward it,

Commander, McAllan said. No sign of a regroup for

another attack.

At the communications console, Abramowitz

turned in her seat. Mr. Duffy, we are being hailed by

Commander Nostrene.

Still wary that the Tholian ships might attempt to

resume their offensive, Duffy nevertheless knew that

he was obligated to pursue a peaceful resolution here.

Hed already initiated such an attempt by rescuing the

drifting Tholian ship. He wondered now what that

action had purchased for them.

On screen, Carol. Lets see what the commander

has to say.

The now-familiar image of the Tholian leader

appeared on the viewer, the reddish hue of his crys-talline

body dominating the roiling spectrum of color

that filled the picture.

Federation vessel, Nostrene said, your presence

in Tholian space is no longer welcome. Retrieve the

derelict you came for and depart our territory imme-diately.

This concludes our cooperative effort. With

that, the image faded and was replaced by the

starfield once more.

Stevens was the first to react. That has to be one of

the most heart-wrenching apologies ever offered by a

Tholian.

Any bets on how much that hurt him to say? Corsi

asked. Turning her attention to Duffy, she said, Well,

done, Commander.

Duffys first impulse was to respond with one of his

usual flippant comments, but he checked himself.

Domenica Corsi didnt hand out compliments lightly,

and coming from her, the simple statement was high

praise indeed. He decided not to undercut the

moment and instead accept her words in the spirit he

was sure they were intended.

Indicating McAllan with a nod of his head, he said,

Keep your eyes on the Tholians until were out of

range. In the meantime, contact the Defiant. I think

its high time we got the hell out of here. He paused,

then added, Oh, and someone ask Captain Gold

which big chair he wants to sit in for the ride home.

Normally a hive of activity, as it had been since first

entering service more than a century ago, operations

aboard the primary SpaceDock facility orbiting Earth

had come to a virtual standstill. Observation galleries

overlooking the stations interior docking areas were

crammed to overflowing with spectators, and every

available viewscreen had been tied into the bays visu-al

feeds. A similar image was also being transmitted

on subspace frequencies throughout the Federation,

offering a view of history to anyone who might be

interested.

And Admiral William Ross couldnt imagine anyone

not being interested.

For years it had been a common complaint among

CHAPTER

11

the older, more seasoned members of Starfleet that

respect for tradition and history seemed to be waning

among younger officers and enlisted personnel. The

explorers and defenders of peace from those bygone

eras had supposedly exhausted all that they could

offer to those who now wore the uniform. It had been

said that many outside Starfleet had also outgrown

the need to honor and appreciate those who had

forged trails through the cosmos in the Federations

early days.

However, looking down at the throng of people

gathered in SpaceDocks main observers gallery, Ross

smiled in satisfaction at the fervor he saw. He could

almost feel the energy washing over the room in the

anticipation of the next few moments. Maybe the

arrival of the Defiant would engender only momen-tary

fascination among the masses before they all

returned to their regular lives, he decided. Then

again, perhaps respect and interest in the past would

be reclaimed here today, if indeed it had been lost at

all.

Mighty flashy party weve got here today, wouldnt

you say, Admiral?

The voice was gravelly and weathered, much like its

owner, Ross discovered as he turned to face the speak-er.

His expression brightened at the new arrival, nod-ding

with enthusiasm of his own. On a day that would

play host to legends, it seemed only fitting that he be

visited by one of their living representatives.

At nearly one hundred fifty years of age, Admiral

Leonard McCoy still presented an imposing figure,

though his shoulders slumped and his skin was little

more than a waxy film covering the bones and mus-cles

of his withered body. None of that seemed to mat-ter,

however, as Ross could still see the fiery determi-nation

in the admirals eyes that had been captured

countless times in biographical databases and histor-ical

narratives. The former chief medical officer of the

original U.S.S. Enterprise represented the same histo-ry

as the ship approaching SpaceDock, and Ross felt

it more than appropriate that he should be here on

this day.

Admiral, Ross said, extending his hand to the

aged McCoy, its good to see you. Couldnt resist com-ing

out to see the Defiants homecoming?

Taking Rosss proffered hand in his own frail grasp,

McCoy nodded in greeting. Wouldnt have missed it

for anything. Not a whole lot excites me anymore, you

know, but this is somethin special. Ill bet Scotty is

champin at the bit to get into the Defiants engine

room. Hell be like a newborn Horta in a rock quarry

once he starts diggin around in there.

Ross smiled at the thought of Captain Scott con-tentedly

pulling himself through the depths of the

antiquated starship. Well, Id imagine youre anxious

to take a tour yourself, arent you?

His face taking on a somber expression, McCoy

replied, Maybe after all the work is done. He nod-ded

in the direction of open space beyond the plexi-steel

viewing port. Ive volunteered to lead the foren-sic

detail going aboard the Defiant. Itll take several

weeks to identify all of the crewmembers, based on

what Ive read of Captain Golds report. Its a sad duty,

but one I couldnt in all good conscience leave to

someone else. Ross saw McCoys eyes begin to water

as the admiral cast a glance downward before contin-uing.

Ive always felt a bit guilty that I was able to fig-ure

out how to counteract the effects of that interspa-tial

nonsense where the Defiants doctor couldnt.

Maybe if shed had more time, she wouldve come up

with something like the theragen cure eventually. We

were lucky we only had to deal with the effects of that

space from outside the rift, but they were stuck right

in the middle of it. They never really had a chance.

He paused for a moment before returning his atten-tion

to Ross. The least we can do now is make sure

the crew gets to their final rest as best we can.

Ross nodded quietly in agreement before the

SpaceDock intercom system attracted their attention,

along with that of everyone in the observers gallery

and, in all likelihood, the rest of the station.

Attention, all personnel Incoming starship on

approach vector. Stand by for docking.

* * *

Yeve done a fine job, Captain. My compliments to

your crew.

In his ready room aboard the da Vinci, David Gold

absorbed the praise from Captain Montgomery Scott,

noting a glint of satisfaction in the legendary engi-neers

eyes that he hadnt seen in quite a while. Like

himself, Scott had only barely been able to con tain

his enthusiasm at the idea of stepping aboard the

Defiant to revel in the history it represented. Of

course, Gold knew that his friends desire to examine

the fabled starship was more personal, more deeply

ingrained from life experience than he himself would

ever know.

All the credit goes to Commander Gomez and her

team, Gold said. In addition to her figuring out a

way to get the Defiant out of the rift, Commander

Duffy played a large part in straightening out the rest

of the mess we managed to get ourselves into.

Ah, Commander Gomez, Scott replied. Yes, Ive

read her report, and I mean to have a conversation

with the lass once shes finished aboard the Defiant.

Of all the areas of that ship to blow to hell, did it have

to be engineering? I was so lookin forward to gettin

in there and pokin around. Gold could see that Scott

was joking, naturally, though he couldnt help but

wonder how much truth lay behind the playful words.

As for Mr. Duffy, the S.C.E. commander contin-ued,

I must tell ye, Captain, I know somethin about

bein thrust into a command situation when ye dont

feel qualified to do the job. Your Mr. Duffy comport-ed

himself remarkably well for a lad whos not lookin

for a command of his own. His quick thinkin to save

that Tholian ship went a long way toward avoidin

severe damage to our relations with the Assembly.

The bloody politicians are still foamin at the mouth

over the whole thing, but I suspect theyll eventually

get over it.

Gold couldnt resist a small chuckle at that. Well,

they need something to keep them busy. On that note,

though, whats the word on bringing the Tholians and

the Klingons to the negotiating table?

Shrugging his shoulders, Scott replied, Theres no

tellin what those popinjay diplomats are plannin.

Yed think that with the information your team dis-covered

aboard the Defiant that the Diplomatic Corps

would want to get everyone into negotiations now,

while the situation can be contained. From what I

hear, thats exactly what Ambassador Worf is pushin

for.

Gold nodded in agreement. Revealing the secret of

the web generator and its use on the Traelus II colony

to the Klingons would have to be handled with

utmost delicacy if any good were to come from it.

While the Federation could not continue to allow neg-ative

feelings to dominate their relations with the

Tholians, they could ill afford to lose the valuable

alliance they had cultivated with the Klingon Empire

after decades of tension and mistrust. He hoped that

Worf, the Federation ambassador to QonoS could

pull it off.

Perhaps something positive can come from all of

this, Gold mused. If the Federation can get the

Tholians and Klingons past a very dark chapter in

their history, and if we gain new allies in the bargain,

then the sacrifice made by the Defiants crew wont

have been for nothing. Not many people could claim

that their actions would have such far-reaching rami-fications

more than a century after their deaths, after

all. Gold mentally saluted Captain Thomas Blair and

the men and women who had served under him.

The whistle of the da Vincis intraship communica-tions

system and the voice of Domenica Corsi inter-rupted

their conversation.

Bridge to Captain Gold. Sir, the Defiant is

approaching SpaceDock.

Thank you, Commander, Gold replied as he rose

from behind his desk. He indicated the door to Scott.

Well, Captain, shall we play witness to one more bit

of history?

* * *

With her main power plants restored to partial

operation, the Defiant no longer resembled a ship of

the dead. Instead, the majority of her portholes were

brilliantly illuminated, and her running lights shone

brightly against the scarred and pitted surface of her

tritanium hull. Her warp nacelles remained inactive,

though, the Bussard ramscoops still dark rather than

the vibrant crimson they had once pulsed. Except for

that detail, the Defiant looked as though she might be

an active ship of the line.

Space traffic controllers throughout the solar sys-tem

had found themselves burdened with the

demands of tracking thousands of Starfleet and civil-ian

spacecraft converging on Earth, their crews all

clamoring to see the return of the legendary starship.

A swarm of smaller vessels shadowed the course

being followed by the Defiant, many carrying journal-ists

from worlds spanning the Federation and all

working diligently for impressive visual images of the

ship to transmit to their home planets.

Sitting in the command chair on the bridge of the

Defiant, Sonya Gomez could not shake completely the

temptation to be overwhelmed by what she was see-ing.

At first the crowd of vessels bearing curious spec-tators

and well-wishers had unnerved her, but that

had quickly faded. Now she allowed herself to give in

to the enormity of the moment. After all, how often

did something like this happen?

With partial power restored throughout the ship,

the da Vincis crew had spent the past several days

carefully transferring the bodies of Defiant personnel

into portable stasis containers, where they would

remain until Starfleet forensic teams completed the

arduous task of identifying each crewmember.

Automatic atmosphere scrubbers had removed the

worst of the dust and pulverized remains of the

Defiants crew, though Gomez doubted she would ever

forget the dank smell that had greeted her the first

time she had removed her suit helmet.

She had suggested that Captain Gold guide the

Defiant into SpaceDock, but he had declined the

honor, deferring it to her instead.

It was your team that got her out of that hellhole,

Sonya, he had said. Its only fitting that you finish the

job you started.

Gomez was grateful he had made the offer. With its

brightly lit consoles and assortment of background

noises, she could easily lose herself in the ambiance

of the bridge and believe that she was serving on a

ship of the line in the rd century.

It really is something else, isnt it? Duffy said from

where he sat at the communications console. More da

Vinci crewmembers manned other bridge stations as

well, providing Gomez with navigational, sensor, and

engineering information. Below decks, other engi-neers

were nursemaiding the Defiants engines on

their final cruise.

Though the ship had been towed by the da Vinci

back from Tholian space to the edge of the Terran sys-tem,

Gomez had requested that the Defiant travel the

last leg of its journey under its own power. She and

Duffy, along with Pattie and several other S.C.E. spe-cialists,

had toiled for two days to ensure the ships

ability to make the trip. Seeing the response from

onlookers as they traversed the solar system, Gomez

was glad she had pushed the idea.

Its something, all right, she replied. And it

should be. The men and women who served on this

ship deserve nothing less. Turning the command

chair to face Duffy, she said, I havent had the chance

to say this before now, Kieran, but I wanted to thank

you for all you did. We couldnt have completed the

mission by ourselves.

Duffy attempted to wave the praise away. Thank

Fabian, or even Corsi for that matter. They had as

much to do with it as anyone. His features took on

an odd quality, one that Gomez couldnt remember

seeing before as he added, They helped get me

through the tough spots.

At the helm where he was trying, without success,

not to enjoy this occasion too much, Fabian Stevens

turned in his seat. Dont listen to him, Commander.

Ol Duff there is on the verge of becoming a real lead-from-

the-front kind of guy. Captain Gold might have

to watch out for his job. With a mischievous smile he

added, Or maybe you should.

Gomez laughed, happy that her friend had per-formed

so well under such trying circumstances.

More than instilling added confidence in his ship-mates,

as well as Captain Gold and even herself, she

knew that the experience would do much toward

allowing Kieran to eventually realize his ultimate

potential.

Still, she couldnt let Stevenss crack go uncontest-ed.

Her response was cut off, however, by a hail whis-tle

from the communications console, followed by a

female voice full of enthusiasm.

U.S.S. Defiant, this is SpaceDock Approach

Control. Stand by for docking maneuver.

It was a straightforward message, Gomez knew,

conveying nothing behind the magnitude of the occa-sion.

But she also knew that the time for reflection

would come later. For now, there were the simple yet

necessary obligations to tend to.

Nodding to Stevens, Gomez waited until he entered

the necessary commands to transfer the ships

maneuvering control to SpaceDock, then reported,

Approach Control, this is Defiant. We have trans-ferred

guidance to you. Shes all yours.

Affirmative, Defiant. SpaceDock confirms control.

Welcome home.

Her duties aboard the legendary ship finally at an

end, Gomez replied, Defiant confirms. Thank you,

SpaceDock.

* * *

Under the guidance of automated maneuvering sys-

tems, the resurrected starship aligned itself with

SpaceDocks main entryway. With thousands of spec-tators

looking on in the stations observation areas

and billions more watching over subspace video

feeds, the ship quietly entered the orbital facility,

sinking into the welcoming embrace that it hadnt

known for far too long.

After more than a century, the U.S.S. Defiant had

finally come home.

Dayton Ward has been a fan of Star Trek since con-ception

(his, not the shows). After serving for eleven

years in the U.S. Marine Corps, he discovered the pri-vate

sector and the piles of cash to be made there as a

software engineer. His start in professional writing

came as a result of placing stories in each of the first

three Star Trek Strange New Worlds anthologies. In

addition to co-writing the two Interphase books f or

the Star Trek S.C.E. series with Kevin Dilmore,

Dayton is also the author of the forthcoming Star Trek

Original Series novel, In the Name of Honor, to be

published in . Though he currently lives in

Kansas City with his wife, Michi, he is a Florida

native and still maintains a torrid long-distance

romance with his beloved Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

* * *

Kevin Dilmore counts himself as very thankful for

the person who, at age , tipped him off to the fact

that Star Trek was a live-action television show before

it was a Saturday morning cartoon. A graduate of the

University of Kansas, he works as news editor and

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

cops-and-courts reporter for a twice-weekly news-paper

in Paola, Kansas, where he lives with his wife,

Linda, and two children. While this is his first foray

into Star Trek fiction, Kevin has covered nonfiction

angles of the world of Star Trek for several years as a

contributing writer for Star Trek Communicator mag-azine,

as well as the Internet site StarTrek.com. He

will always take pride in the knowledge that the for-mula

for transparent aluminum was devised by the

user of a Macintosh computer.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS