Star Trek: That Which Divides (18 page)

From her left, the centurion manning the helm reported, “We approach the rift’s outer boundary, Commander.”

“Slow to one-quarter speed,” Vathrael ordered. “Full power to the defensive screens, and I want a detailed sensor sweep as we pass through the boundary. Transfer power from any system except the cloaking field, if necessary.”

At his station, Centurion Betria turned and called out, “Commander, the Starfleet vessel is now moving along what appears to be an intercept course with us. Their defensive screens are active, as are their weapons, though I am detecting no evidence of our being targeted.”

“Well,” Sirad said, “that would seem to remove any
doubts as to whether they can track us. Shall we engage our own defenses?”

“No,” Vathrael replied. “They will not fire on us unless provoked. Will we reach the rift boundary before they intercept us?”

Standing at the helm console, Centurion Janotra answered, “Not at our present speed, Commander.”

“Increase to three-quarter speed,” Vathrael said, and she heard the omnipresent hum of the
Nevathu
’s engines shift in pitch as they responded to the increased power demands. Moving to a secondary systems station, she reached for the console and tapped a series of controls, in response to which a display monitor flared to life and offered her an image of the Starfleet ship. The vessel seemed to be moving with singular purpose, growing larger on the screen with every passing moment.

They will not fire.

“Crossing the outer boundary now,” Janotra reported, an instant before the entire ship seemed to react to contact with the rift. The first clue that something might be amiss was the flickering of the bridge’s overhead and recessed lighting, partnered with a noticeable warbling in the reverberations cast off by the
Nevathu
’s engines. Still leaning against the console, Vathrael was able to feel the first vibrations carrying through the bulkheads—vibrations that were already growing in intensity.

“Increase power to the shields,” she ordered. “Reduce to one-half speed.” In response to her command, the
Nevathu
shuddered around her with an even greater force, and Vathrael reached for the console to steady herself. “What’s happening?” Could she have misjudged the human? Had he indeed ordered his weapons unleashed against her ship?

Betria replied, “The energy field seems to be reacting to our passage!” There was worry in the young officer’s voice, and Vathrael saw the emotion reflected in the eyes of the centurion as well as the other officers, all of whom were gripping their consoles or anything else that might offer purchase.

Then something slammed into the ship and the deck pitched up and to the left, and Vathrael scrambled for a handhold as alarms began to sound within the cramped control room. “Emergency power to the shields!” she shouted. All around her, the
Nevathu
was beginning to make known its displeasure at the assault being inflicted upon it. The odd, labored rhythm of the engines had now been replaced with an irregular rumbling that to Vathrael’s ears sounded as though the massive power plants might be doing their best to wrest themselves from their mountings.

“Commander!” shouted Centurion Terius. “The cloaking field is failing!”

Even as the tactical officer spoke the words, Vathrael could see the alert indicator flashing on the helm console, signifying a problem with the cloak generator, but that was the least of the problems she and her crew faced. If something could not be done to arrest the
Nevathu
’s shaking and trembling in the face of whatever the mysterious energy field was doing to the ship, there would be nothing to conceal except for an expanding cloud of debris. Besides, it was almost certain the
Enterprise
’s own sensors had now detected her ship’s presence. Whatever advantage she might have held with respect to stealth likely had evaporated.

“Never mind the cloak!” Vathrael snapped, anchoring herself against the systems station by gripping the edge of the console with both hands. She could now feel the ship’s
incessant vibrations in her bones. “Transfer that power to the deflector shields, and increase speed to full. Betria! How much farther to the other side of the rift?”

The sensor officer replied, “We are less than halfway through, Commander!”

No sooner had he made his report than Centurion Janotra called out, “We are losing propulsion! The helm is not responding!”

Instinct told Vathrael that the energy field’s effects would continue to worsen the farther the
Nevathu
traveled into the rift. What was it the
Enterprise
officer had said? The anomaly had somehow damaged another Starfleet ship? Why was that? Something about the energy field being harmful to vessels with warp drive?

“Deactivate the warp engine!” Vathrael ordered. “Do it now!”

The order seemed incredulous even to the normally stoic Sirad. From where he stood, holding a safety bar mounted to the bulkhead near the helm station, he asked, “Commander? If we do that, power for our defenses will be severely limited.”

“I know that!” Vathrael snapped, feeling her own anxiety growing even as the
Nevathu
’s quivering around them continued to increase. “Do as I command!”

In response to the directive, Centurion Janotra fed the necessary instructions to his console, and a moment later Vathrael heard the distinctive drone of the
Nevathu
’s massive warp engine starting to fade. The loss of the ship’s primary power source was evident as a litany of alert indicators and tones wailed for attention across the bridge, and the shaking grew worse, but only for a moment. As abrupt as the bizarre assault had begun, it stopped. The groans of
protest from the surrounding bulkheads ceased, and all that was left was the chorus of alarms, which Sirad ordered silenced.

“Damage reports,” the subcommander directed, moving to Centurion Odera, who had lost his hold on his console and tumbled to the deck.

Still tapping controls on the helm console, Janotra said, “The impulse engines are sluggish, Commander, though we are still able to maneuver. I am requesting a status report from the engineer.”

“What of the cloaking field?” Sirad asked, moving toward the tactical station.

Terius replied, “It remains offline, Subcommander. No report yet on its repair.”

Pushing away from the systems console, Vathrael gestured as though waving away the report. “It does not matter. The
Enterprise
knows we are here.” From what she knew of Starfleet practices, the commander of the starship might even try to offer assistance if he discovered the
Nevathu
’s condition. “Have they made another attempt to establish contact?”

Odera said, “Our communications array also suffered damage from the rift. Even the internal system is experiencing difficulty, but the engineer reports that repairs are already under way.”

His gaze focused on one of the hub’s status monitors, Sirad said, “He has posted his preliminary repair estimates. At present, it will be tomorrow at the earliest before full impulse power is restored.”

“What about warp drive?” Vathrael asked.

“Fully functional,” the subcommander answered. “Deactivating it was the correct course, Commander.”

Vathrael nodded. “Of course, it will only prove useful if and when we pass back through the rift.”

Moving away from the hub, Sirad reached up to wipe his brow, which was damp with perspiration. “The
Enterprise
will be looking for us.”

“Almost certainly,” Vathrael said, then paused, frowning. “However, there is no way to know if the energy field has any effect on its sensors which might benefit us.” In truth, she did not believe that to be the case; she had said it in large part for the sake of her bridge crew, each member of whom was regarding her with a questioning expression. “For now, we will carry out our orders to the best of our ability, and obtain as much information as possible. Helm, move us toward the planetoid. I suspect the answers we seek are there.”

Watching as her subordinates set to their various tasks, Vathrael allowed herself a small sigh. She did not like operating like this; her ship compromised, and likely now being hunted by an enemy vessel. Almost without thinking, she began to consider the likelihood of the
Nevathu
escaping the rift and Kondaii space, and she did not like the scenarios she was beginning to envision.

Enough of that unproductive nonsense
, she mused, chastising herself.
Focus.

She noted Sirad moving closer to her, and she regarded him as she continued to oversee her officers tending to their work. “Something else?”

The subcommander nodded, and when he spoke it was in a voice she could only hear with effort. “The human was being truthful.” His words carried a note of surprise.

“It would seem so,” Vathrael said.

In a rare display of emotion, the corners of Sirad’s
mouth curved upward in the slightest suggestion of a smile. “Does this mean you trust him?”

“Do not be fooled by everything you have read or heard,” Vathrael said, her tone one of caution. “Humans are not the treacherous thugs our leaders would have us believe them to be.” Her own encounters with representatives of Earth had given her at least some insight in that regard.

“But do you trust him?” Sirad pressed.

After a moment, Vathrael shook her head. “No.”

At least, not yet
.

“Romulan vessel decloaking!”

Montgomery Scott glanced toward the science station in time to see Ensign Pavel Chekov push himself away from the console and point at the main viewscreen and the image of the energy field displayed upon it. Near the lower left corner of the screen, Scott could see something small and dark coalescing into existence.

Or trying to, anyway
.

“Looks like your detection program worked, Mister Scott,” Sulu said from where he had retaken his normal post at the helm console.

Scott nodded. “Aye, though you can be sure the Romulans will be working to make sure we can’t get away with that for very long.” He leaned forward in the command chair, scowling as he regarded the image of what looked to be the ghostlike image of a Romulan scout ship fading in and out of visibility. “Something’s not right,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Is the rift interfering with their cloaking device?”

“That’d be my guess, sir,” Chekov replied, his attention divided between the sensor readouts at his station and the viewscreen. “It’s completely inactive now. The rift is definitely reacting to the ship’s presence, and the readings I’m
collecting are similar though not exactly the same as those recorded by the
Huang Zhong
during its passage through the field.” Leaning over to peer once more into his scanner, the ensign added, “I’m also picking up fluctuations in their warp and impulse engines, sir. Again, they’re not identical to what we already have recorded, but very close.” “It might have something to do with their engine design,” Scott said, perching his right elbow on the arm of the command chair and reaching up to stroke his chin. “Are you able to track them?”

Still hovering over his station, Chekov replied, “Partially, sir. The rift’s still interfering with our attempts to scan past the rift’s outer boundary, but I’ve got a lock on the Romulan ship now. Its shields look to be taking a beating.”

“That doesn’t seem to make any sense, now, does it?” Scott asked, trying to rationalize Chekov’s reports from what he had already seen take place with the passage not only of Dolysian freight haulers in and out of the rift, but also that of
Enterprise
shuttlecraft. No disruptions or even fluctuations from the rift had been recorded. Though it now was obvious that the field was reacting in negative fashion to something unique to various forms of warp drive, the exact nature of the conduit’s response remained cloaked in mystery. “What is it about warp engines that’s making this thing throw such a fit?” Setting aside the question for the moment, Scott said to Sulu, “Get us as close as you can to the edge of the rift without getting it mad at us, but no closer than ten thousand kilometers.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Sulu replied, his hands already moving across his console to carry out the order.

Looking over his shoulder to the communications
station, Scott asked, “Lieutenant M’Ress, have you picked up any transmissions from them?”

The Caitian shook her head. “No, sir. Nothing.”

“Open a hailing frequency to them, then,” Scott said. “Let them know we’re standing by to render assistance if necessary.”

The order earned Scott a cautionary glance from Sulu. “You don’t really think they’ll answer us, do you?”

Scott sighed. “I really have no idea, but I’d like to avoid a shoot-out if at all possible.” Though the Dolysian system was in nonaligned space, it was close enough to Romulan territory that it was understandable for the empire to be curious about the presence of Federation starships in the area. Also, Scott figured that their longtime adversary would be interested in the enigmatic rift and whatever might be causing it. Despite this, he saw no reason for the situation to deteriorate to hostilities. If anyone was going to fire first, it would have to be the Romulans.

Assuming they manage to get out of that rift without their ship coming apart.

“Mister Scott,” M’Ress said from behind him. “I’m not getting any response to our hails. I can’t be sure they’re even receiving our transmission.”

“Maybe the rift’s interfering with their communications,” Sulu offered.

“Or they’re just too busy to answer,” Scott said. “Mister Chekov, anything new on the sensors?”

Turning from his station, the ensign replied, “The intensity of the field’s reaction looks to be increasing. I’m seeing severe fluctuations in the field corresponding to the Romulan ship’s position within the rift.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how they’ve managed to make it as far as they have.”

“Romulan vessels are known for their robust construction,” said Lieutenant Arex from where he sat at the navigator’s console, having taken over for Chekov while the ensign manned the science station. Shifting in his seat, the Triexian turned his oversized, elongated head to face Scott. “My species learned that during our first encounters with the empire more than a century ago.”