Galactic Object 4704 has dimmed to the point of near invisibility, a mere smudge of light among the stars. The huge shape of the Andrew Carnegie is floating almost at the centre of the anomaly, its image flickering a little on the screen, as if a heat haze is playing around it.
Some kilometres away, Madagascar is flaring with violet lightning, flashes and sparks as long as my ship, as bright as the sun. Lines of flickering light reach out to the four frigate-class auxiliaries, each of which is also spitting brilliant sparks. I have no idea what it is trying to accomplish, but it looks formidable.
"Lieutenant Lillian. Check sensors. Tell me what is happening here. Lieutenant Bloxx. Hail the Madagascar. Find out what they think is happening here." I settle back in my chair.
It takes only a few moments before the screen flickers, and a human face appears on it. Commander Marya Kothe, I remember, M'eioi's exec. "Captain Surella. Glad to see you."
"Status report, Commander."
Kothe is military enough not to waste further words. "The Carnegie has retreated into an energy zone around GO4704. We think it's tapping the anomaly's own energy to set up a radiation exclusion field. Directed energy weapons are useless, transporter interdiction is total, and the anomaly's generating low-level gravitational shockwaves which make it impossible to target torpedoes or send shuttlecraft - the local turbulence stops them in their tracks. We're trying to use Madagascar's particle emitters to generate a counter field, but we've had no luck yet."
"What of Admiral M'eioi?"
"We can't isolate any specific life signs aboard the Carnegie. In any case -" Kothe's face turns grim. "Her orders were explicit, sir."
Stop the Carnegie first, at all costs. And precious hours have passed since then - "Very well. How can we assist?"
"I don't think Amphicyon has the specialist emitters we need to break through. If you can think of any other way to take down the Carnegie - feel free, sir."
"Very well." Thoughts are forming in my mind. "I will keep you informed. Amphicyon out."
The image of the monstrous ship in the anomaly reappears. I continue to think. "Gravitational turbulence. How extreme?"
"Intermittent scale three grav pulses, sir," says Lillian promptly. "We can't get a firing solution for torpedoes, and our shuttles would be tossed all over the sky before they could make a docking seal -"
"Quite," I say. "Helm. Steer three five zero mark one. Thrusters only." Niquoeb shoots me a puzzled glance, but complies. Amphicyon starts to move, slowly.
"A big ship," I muse, "but it has the usual control points. Main engineering. Computer core. Bridge, auxiliary control, life support. I assume there is disruption on the comms channels, too?"
"Lots of jamming, sir," Som Bloxx confirms.
"Then pass the word among the crew. There will be consistent design patterns, there will be signage, even, telling us where those critical areas are...."
"If we could get anyone aboard to find them, boss," says Thala.
"That need not be a problem. All stop. Thrusters to station keeping. But turn the ship, heading seven seven mark zero."
Amphicyon comes about. The Carnegie is broadside on to us now, still shimmering slightly, but with her full length exposed. From her stern, I note, a glimmering line - a force-field docking tube, it looks like - connects with a mission pod, separated from the engineering hull. The pod is in the very centre of GO4704. A single volley would destroy it... if we could fire effectively....
"Scale three gravimetric disturbance. Enough to throw around a torpedo or a shuttle. So, we ourselves must be the weapon." My finger stabs at the general address switch. "All hands. Brace for impact, and prepare for combat. Full power to impulse. Ramming speed."
And now there is shuddering and trembling, as the Amphicyon surges forwards, into the gravity waves. Niquoeb is wrestling with the helm controls, trying to keep our course straight. A blue light reaches out from the Carnegie, and Thala snarls, "Polarizing hull!" The tractor beam glances off our energized hull plating -
- and the inertial dampers and SI fields shriek alarms, as the dull crash of impact echoes through the ship. I grip the armrests tightly to avoid being thrown from the chair. A low groaning sound, as of structural members stressed beyond endurance, makes itself heard. There is nothing on the viewer but static.
I rise from my seat. The phaser at my hip might be useless, but my mek'leth will still work. "Lillian. Coordinate with Madagascar, try to break the damping field. Niquoeb. Work the helm, see if you can force the Carnegie clear of the anomaly. Thala. You have the ship."
"Where will you be?" Thala sounds almost resigned.
"Where I should be." My hand comes down on the general address switch again. "All warriors! Assemble in the forward saucer section! Board and storm!"
---
I have, at least, judged my aim correctly. Amphicyon has crashed into the Carnegie's midsection, the part that started life as a Risian cruise liner. Our saucer section is crushed into its upper hull, where gigantic picture windows offer a view of space to the passengers in a charming artificial lagoon. Charming and vulnerable.
My inner ear protests as I make my way through hull breaches, across two wavering and incompatible artificial gravity fields. There is a cold wind blowing. Both ships are leaking atmosphere at a frantic rate.
Down becomes unambiguous, and my boots squelch into wet sand. "Fan out! Find the exits!" I shout to the security troops behind me. The water level in the lagoon is much lower than it should be; coral reefs are exposed, gaily coloured fish are flapping weakly on suddenly dry land. The deck plating beneath us must have buckled. This is good; a sudden deluge of salt water on the decks below us can only add to our enemies' problems. I lope across the uneven ground, scanning it for hidden threats, and an access point into the body of the ship.
A collapsed structure of flimsy wood and vegetable fibres - I think it is called a tiki bar - yields my first find. I spot a flash of gold within it, tear a panel aside with my free hand - and find myself staring at a light-haired human female, wearing a tight-fitting gold garment that displays her femininity in a very obvious manner.
"Please don't hurt me," she squeals.
"I am a Starfleet officer. You are in no danger, unless you offer resistance. Who are you?"
"Natalia Khoklova. Please don't hurt me." She sniffles. "I don't know anything. They never -"
"Where is Vansittaert? Where is he keeping Admiral M'eioi?"
"I don't -" Her eyes are wide, and something changes in them.
I snarl and spin around, slashing with the mek'leth. It strikes something, something which explodes with a bang and a shower of sparks. An electrical stun baton, I realize, wielded by a stocky human in a black uniform. He stares at the ruined weapon for a tenth of a second, until I strike him between the eyes with the mek'leth's pommel, and he collapses onto the wet sand.
Security forces. And their phaser-based stun weapons are no more effective than ours, but they have these crude electrical prods - I can see my troops in conflict with them, in several places, already. I smile. These batons will not prove an advantage, not against Starfleet combat training.
I turn back to Khoklova, who cowers. "Where is Admiral M'eioi?"
She swallows. "Mr. Vansittaert took them all to the mission pod. As witnesses, he said. He wanted them to watch. He didn't want me, I'm nobody, I'm not important -"
"Remain where you are, and offer no resistance, and you will not be harmed." The mission pod. It was a reasonable assumption anyway, and this only confirms it. I must find the main entrance to this pleasure palace, and make my way into the body of the ship. I do not spare Khoklova a second glance as I head for a promising-looking archway on the nearest wall.
My combadge bleeps at me. Surprising. I had thought the comms jamming would be total. "Surella."
"Captain." Lillian's voice, slightly scratchy with interference. "I've routed some suggested waveforms from Madagascar through our deflector dish. We can't neutralize the exclusion field, but we can open up a few frequencies, for comms and weapons -"
"Opening nadion frequencies for our phasers will activate the enemy's stunners, too," I growl.
"Yes, sir. But I remembered you were carrying your antique phaser, sir, and its frequencies are slightly different. You should find -"
I open my eyes wide. Despite myself, I am impressed. "You have given me the only working gun on this ship? Qapla', Lieutenant."
"I hope so, sir. We'll carry on working -"
"Do so. Surella out."
I say this, because the door in the archway is opening up, and there are people behind it, ready to come through. I crouch down, draw the phaser, twist the selector to heavy stun.
Black-clad forms are spilling through the archway. I take aim at the nearest of them, and press the trigger.
The phaser makes a very gratifying sizzling hiss, and the man drops, poleaxed, as the stun beam wraps him in an orange glare.
I turn towards the group behind him, and, with a flick of my wrist, fan a beam across them. It will not strike any one with force enough to stun - merely to numb, confuse, startle and shock them.
There is a shriek as one guard drops his stun baton into the salt water he is standing in. The others mill around, confused. I spray another beam across them. Numbed, confused, startled, shocked and cowed, now. And my own security details are gathering behind me -
I move forwards, concentrating on one figure, with gold-striped epaulettes and a gold-braided cap. When dealing with private security forces, one should always start with the one in the most impressive hat.
I push him to the ground, and he barely resists. I cannot resist the temptation. "HoD Qotlh jIH. Qotlh BortaS," I growl, "je Dujvam tevwI maj."
He just gawps at me. Not a devotee of Battlecruiser Vengeance, then. "I am Captain Surella of the USS Amphicyon," I tell him, "and this ship is now under Starfleet authority. Who are you?"
"Parlabane," he says. "Commander Parlabane. Head of security."
"Excellent. Then you can tell your troops to stand down and await arrest. It will save time for us, and unpleasantness for them. How do I get to the mission pod?"
"It's -" He shakes his head. "There's nothing you can do. It's self-contained, Mr. Vansittaert doesn't need the rest of the ship, not in the time that's left, there must be only minutes to go -" I reach for his collar, and give him a gentle shake to stop his gabbling.
"Take me there," I order him.
"There's nothing you can do," he whines.
I shake him again. "Take me there. And we will see what I can do."
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