The Voth ship has apparently docked with the spire. This is a logical procedure; it means they can send out troops in force, without relying on possibly compromised transporter operations. True, the Bulwark becomes a stationary target in the process - but, if they have control of the spire's own weapons systems, that need not be a problem for them.
I think furiously, attempting to assess my own immediate danger. The spire is vast, even a Bulwark-class warship cannot carry enough troops to occupy it in any meaningful sense - most likely, they will look for centralized control and communications stations, so that they can take and hold the mechanisms of the spire's operations. The station I am in may be important enough for them to seek it out. I do not have the resources to oppose a Voth military force.
I turn to the communications console. "T'Pia to Dezin."
"Sir." Twosani responds at once.
"The Voth ship has docked with the spire, I estimate not more than five hundred metres from my current location. It is probable that Voth ground troops will shortly take possession of this control station. What is the status of repairs to the transporter?"
"Still offline, sir. I'm sorry."
"No matter. There are other stations accessible from this location. I will transfer myself to some point more distant from the Voth. Perhaps I may even be able to locate the Timor and alert Admiral M'eioi to the situation." Always assuming that the Timor has not already been found and neutralized by the Voth - well, I must make some assumptions at some point. "There is an internal map on the transporter control console. I will consult it."
"How long have you got, sir?" Twosani's voice sounds faint as I move to the other console.
I speak loudly and clearly in reply. "Unknown at this time. I will move as expeditiously as I safely can."
The control console does, indeed, have a map. Unfortunately, it is an abstract thing, representing the correct topology of the transporter nodes on the network, but without giving absolute positions or directions. With only two known nodes to correlate from, my analysis of the network is necessarily incomplete and imperfect.
Worryingly, many of the nodes - not just the one I started from - are inoperative. The sphere's self-repair systems are complex and continually operational, but even so, the vast structure shows some signs of age and wear - this, however, is considerably more damage than I might have expected, given the condition of other spires. Either this spire has, through random factors, suffered unusually heavy damage from the passing of the years... or the activity which led us here has caused the damage in some way. The latter seems more probable. The tetryon pulsations, generated by apparatus of immense age, must have caused high levels of stress, on systems that have been disused for millennia. A level of collateral damage was only to be anticipated.
I study the map, my ears alert for any sound - most importantly, the sound of approaching Voth boots on the deckplates. But there is nothing. Only the occasional faint bleep from the consoles, and the sighing of the wind through the high arched windows.
I select a node which is still functional, and which is shown in emphasis on the map - multiple coloured rings surrounding its icon. If I have judged correctly, it is also distant from this station. Hopefully, not too distant - it would be inconvenient, to say the least, if I were to be transported to the other side of the sphere. "I have selected a destination," I say. "I will attempt to contact you again from there, on my arrival. T'Pia out."
"Good luck, sir," I hear Twosani say, as I engage the controls and step onto the pad.
The world spins and shifts around me. I am somewhere else -
I blink. I am in a round alcove, with the transport pad at its centre. I step forwards, towards the open side of the alcove. It opens onto a hallway - a large hallway - whose walls are lined with similar alcoves -
I advance a few paces further, stop, and look around, taking stock. The hallway appears to be roughly kidney-shaped, and at least five hundred metres along its longest axis. The walls are lined with alcoves, each one perhaps twenty-five metres across. And each one holds a transport pad, as far as my eyes can see. It must be a central interchange for the transport system. The map I consulted must only have shown part of the network - possibly only a very small part.
Nothing like this showed up on any of my tricorder scans, so I am clearly at some distance from the Voth. However, this is a target even more desirable than my previous location. If the Voth can trace me here, they will undoubtedly send troops in whatever strength they can muster.
I pull out my tricorder and scan the area. There must, logically, be a master control station nearby - there would be no point assembling all these transporters in one place, otherwise.
There is considerable electronic activity to my left. I turn in that direction and jog down the hallway, following its gentle curve. At one end, a large dais rises out of the floor, with many free-standing consoles mounted on it and a massive display screen hanging down from the vaulted ceiling overhead. As I near it, ramps extend from the floor along the sides of the dais, affording me access. Typical Solanae design - useful, if disconcerting.
I stop at the foot of one ramp, and listen. The room has, up till now, been quiet - my footsteps the loudest sound. But now I can hear something else. Not footsteps - certainly not the tread of Voth armoured boots - but something else. A faint hissing sound, almost like slithering -
It is coming from above me. I look up.
Shapes flow through the air under the curve of the ceiling - gleaming white metallic shapes trailing tendril-like cables behind them. The noise of those metal tentacles is the sound I hear. The sphere's security swarmers. They are emerging from vents in the ceiling, criss-crossing the upper air of the hallway, their blunt mechanical faces turning this way and that.
An individual swarmer is a danger to unarmoured personnel. And there are dozens - no, hundreds - of them here.
Evidently, the Voth incursion has alerted the sphere's automated security systems. In the abstract, this may be a good thing. Here and now, though, it is a problem. The swarmers respond to unauthorised personnel with deadly force, and I am no more authorised here than the Voth.
First one swarmer, then another, dips its blunt head to face me. They are nearly featureless - it is only imagination which attributes malignancy to them.
They do not fire their weapons. In an instant, I realize why not. I am surrounded by the sphere's machinery, in the form of the transporters. The swarmers must be programmed to avoid risking damage to those machines from missed shots.
But the swarmers have a high degree of artificial intelligence - they will adapt their tactics, and swiftly. Already, some more of them are arcing through the air, seeking a vantage point from which they can fire at me without endangering the transporters.
I cannot fight so many swarmers. I have seconds to act, at most, before they cut me down. I turn and dash for the nearest alcove. Movement whispers in the air behind me, and I anticipate, at every instant, the scarlet blaze of an antiproton beam cutting into my back. I reach for the transporter pad, for the controls -
I have no time to select a destination. I must go anywhere, so long as it is away.
The control panel bleeps its assent to me. The pad glows to life. I leap onto it -
And I am... elsewhere.
No comments:
Post a Comment