Claws 32

Ronnie

I lose my footing as the deck lurches beneath me, and I fall hard on one hip and go sprawling. The ship is rocking, alarms sounding everywhere -

"Gravimetric shear," says Saval, imperturbably, from his console.

"Trying to compensate," says Jhemyl. "Helm is responding -"
  
"Impact damage and stress on structural integrity field," Ahepkur reports from the engineering station. "Consistent with - sir, we're in atmosphere!"

"On screen!" I bawl, as I scramble to my feet. "Get me a visual!"

R'j's puzzled face vanishes from the main viewer, to be replaced by a vision of fleecy clouds tumbling through a clear blue sky... tumbling, then steadying as Jhemyl gains control. In one corner of the screen, I make out the shape of the Anar, impulse engines flaring as she races towards space.

"Are they all there?" I ask. "The other ships? Saval! Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Working on that, sir. All our companion vessels are on sensors." Saval raises an eyebrow. "Interesting. I can confirm we are in the atmosphere of Tiaza Zephora."

"Um," Leo Madena pipes up, "multiple comm signals coming in, sir."

"Oh, lord. All right. Who've we got?"

"For a start," a rasping voice sounds, "you still have me. Do you still require shooting?"

Well, I'm not putting that one to the vote. "I'll take a rain check, at least till we know what's going on. Saval! What's going on?" Unobtrusively - I hope - I slap the side of my Borg ocular implant. Two of Twelve is making a noise, a low ongoing moan, like the drone of a hung-up telephone.

"Interesting," Saval says again. "Sir... we were in a comparatively low orbit when we - departed - from Tiaza Zephora's vicinity. I believe... given the normal processes of orbital decay... and assuming we made no compensating manoeuvres... we are exactly where we would have been, had we remained in orbit."

"You mean, the extra-galactic space, the game board, the dark tower, they were all just some sort of - illusion, or what?" I ask.

"Possibly a generated spatial anomaly or inclusion," says Saval. "I will need time to assess the data."

"I have something -" R'j's voice. "A distress beacon, on an obsolete Klingon frequency. I must attend to this - Goroke out."

"I'm picking that up too, sir," says Leo. "Uh, more than one, now. Maybe something's happened on the planet?"

The blue sky is fading, now, into the deep safe black of space. "See if you can raise our people on the ground."

"Yes, sir. Uh, incoming call from the USS Tapiola - "

"Oh, hell, stall her." T'Pia will only have questions, and they will likely be the same questions that I have, so how can I give her any answers?

"Tapiola is in-system now," Tallasa reports, "standing out in high orbit, three light-seconds from the planet." Playing it safe. Good Vulcan.

"Sending automated acknowledgments to Tapiola," says Leo. The kid's learning, I'll give him that. "And I have a signal from the surface -"

"Put that one through!" I leap into the command chair, trying to ignore some warning twinges from my bruised hip.

"This is Lieutenant T'Shomep calling vessels in orbit." I shoot a glance at Saval. Is there a flash of relief for an instant on that bewhiskered face? No, I don't think there is. He, too, is a good Vulcan.

"Falcon here. What's your situation?"

"Communications are being routed through this station until normal functions are restored," T'Shomep's calm voice replies. "We have one combat casualty, stable but requiring additional treatment and assessment when possible. There have also been changes to the local environment, the nature of which are still under assessment." The voice fades out for a few seconds, then comes back. "I am in communication with Vice Admiral Shohl. She will no doubt wish to debrief with you thoroughly -"

"Not while I have my strength she won't."

"Sir?"

"Never mind. Just me being silly. Is Tylha OK?"

"Vice Admiral Shohl reports herself uninjured. She has one message for you, though. She would like to know if the name of Martin Hudson is familiar to you."