Star Trek: The Rings of Time (25 page)

“Mr. Spock! We’re receiving dozens of hails,” Uhura reported. She feverishly worked the communications console, looking almost, but not quite, overwhelmed by the flood of transmissions. Anguish showed on her features. “They’re pleading to be allowed to board the
Enterprise.
Begging for their lives!”

Spock did not envy Uhura. “Issue a general announcement on all frequencies,” he instructed. “Tell them to turn back to Skagway.”

She complied with his orders, but her board continued to light up with incoming transmissions. “I’m trying, Mr. Spock. They’re not listening!”

He chided himself for not fully anticipating the colonists’ reckless behavior. It was not as though there were not historical precedents. The unfortunate images on the screen reminded him of the interplanetary “boat people” of ancient Blinogu, who had fled the imminent destruction of their planet in a fleet of flimsy solar-sailing vessels. Their desperate voyage, alas, had not ended happily. The Bline were now extinct.

“
Columbus
is hailing us,” Uhura announced. “They’re requesting new instructions.”

On the viewer, the shuttle could be seen trying to make it through the debris and the refugee ships
to get to the
Enterprise
. The other vessels hemmed
Columbus
in, often blocking Spock’s view of the shuttle. He recalled that it was currently carrying eighteen authorized evacuees, plus a Starfleet pilot and a security officer. The shuttle crews had been kept small to make room for the evacuees.

“We can’t open the space doors to the bay,” Chekov realized aloud. “It would be a free-for-all. We’d be overrun!”

Spock had to agree. The situation immediately outside the ship was already untenable. Without any manner of space traffic control in effect, the various craft zipped past one another in a random fashion. A speeding prospector ship cut off a minishuttle in its haste to get ahead of the other refugees, nearly causing a collision. Two jostling scout ships grazed each other. The smaller ship’s starboard thruster went flying off, sending the scout spinning out of control. Sulu gasped as the disabled ship tumbled past the
Enterprise,
barely missing its saucer section. Undaunted, the other scout joined the mob crowding
Columbus.

“Madness,” Qat Zaldana whispered, so low that possibly only Spock’s ears could hear. “Sheer madness.”

Spock considered his options. If necessary, he could order the
Enterprise
to warp away from Klondike VI, but that would wreak havoc on the many small vessels surrounding the ship and would also mean abandoning
Columbus
and its passengers. He was not yet ready to employ such drastic measures.

“Keep hailing them,” Spock instructed Uhura. “Remind them that they are endangering the children already aboard.”

“It’s no good,” she said, shaking her head. “Nobody is listening. They’re all shouting, screaming, begging over one another.” Wincing at the tumult, she fiddled with her earpiece to reduce the volume. “They’re demanding that we let them board. They say they’re not going to let us leave without them.” She grimaced. “It’s getting pretty ugly, Mr. Spock, and heartbreaking at the same time.”

He was inclined to take her word for it. “Please disregard them, Lieutenant. Maintain an open frequency to
Columbus
instead.” He recalled that Lieutenant Schneider was piloting the shuttle; she was an able pilot who had logged many hours in flight drills. “Tell them to stand by and be prepared for an immediate landing or beam-out.”

He considered the probability that they could lower the
Enterprise
’s shields long enough to beam the shuttle’s crew and passengers aboard. Was it worth exposing the entire ship to danger to rescue one last party of refugees? He did not dare dispatch
Galileo
to Skagway for another run. That would be foolhardy in the extreme.

“My apologies,” he said to Qat Zaldana. “It appears that we will not be able to return you to the colony as you requested. Circumstances have changed.”

“I could pilot my own shuttle,” she reminded him.

“But we cannot risk opening the space doors to let you leave.”
Spock wondered if a human would see Qat Zaldana’s inability to sacrifice herself as a “silver lining.” Dr. McCoy might think so, as would Captain Kirk, were he not lost in time. “In any event, the fact that we can no longer dispatch
Galileo
to retrieve more evacuees means that your presence will not cost anyone else a place aboard the
Enterprise
. You might as well survive.”

She tilted her head. “Was that a joke, Mr. Spock?”

“Merely an observation,” he replied. “The matter is out of our hands.”

“We’ll see,” she said cryptically.

Before he could inquire what she meant, a more urgent dilemma presented itself.

“Hold on, everyone,” Sulu warned. “We’ve got some bumpy weather coming up.”

A thick patch of ring matter pelted the
Enterprise
and the swarm of flyers surrounding it. Repeated impacts rattled the bridge, but Spock was more concerned with
Columbus
and the other smaller spacecraft. He watched tensely as craggy chunks of ice, some nearly as large as the shuttle, invaded the already-crowded space outside the
Enterprise.
Lieutenant Schneider had her work cut out for her if she was going to avoid being struck by one or more frozen particles.

“Mr. Chekov,” Spock said. “Can you clear a path for
Columbus
?”

“Negative, Mr. Spock.” His fingers hovered over the firing controls. “There are too many other vessels in the way! I can’t target the debris!”

Without phaser cover,
Columbus
was on its own. The shuttle rolled out of the way of an oncoming iceball that flew past its upside-down landing gear to barrel into a compact prospector ship on the other side of the shuttle. The unlucky prospector was smashed to pieces in a soundless collision that killed at least two colonists. Flying wreckage added to the hazards threatening the flotilla. A hijacked lunar transport received a severe gash along its stern. Vapor jetted from the breach before someone inside sealed the wound. The transport lost speed and maneuverability, falling away from the rest of the pack. Spock wondered if it would attempt to return to Skagway.

Unlikely,
he decided. Nothing waited for them on the moon but certain annihilation.

“This is just the warm-up act,” Sulu warned. “Sensors indicate that the main event is coming up any minute now.”

The refugees were not going to turn back, Spock realized. Circling the
Enterprise,
pleading for sanctuary, they could not possibly withstand the hazardous environment they had rashly thrown themselves into. So far, fatalities had been minimal, but that had been more happenstance than anything else. The vulnerable flyers were at the mercy of the storm.

Unless . . .

“Mr. Chekov, expand our shields outward by one hundred sixty percent.”

Startled, Chekov looked back at him. A baffled expression indicated that he was confused by his orders. “Excuse
me, sir. Did I hear you correctly? Extending the deflectors that far out will severely diminish their strength and integrity.”

“That is correct, Ensign.” Spock knew that the shields had been designed to conform to the profile of the ship, adding a layer of protection akin to a secondary hull. Ordinarily, their protection seldom extended more than fifty meters beyond the ship’s exterior plating. But these were not ordinary circumstances. “You have your orders.”

“Aye, sir.” Chekov resigned himself to his task. “Extending shields.”

Spock moved to notify Engineering of his plan, but Mr. Scott responded even more quickly to the drastic change in the shields. An agitated brogue erupted from the intercom.
“Mr. Spock, what sort of games are ye playing up there? I canna believe what my readouts are telling me.”

Spock took the engineer’s reaction in stride. It was to be expected. “No games, Mr. Scott. It has become necessary to expand our shields to encompass the space surrounding the ship.”

“But that’s not what they were built to do!”
the engineer sputtered.
“As Dr. McCoy might say, are you out of your Vulcan mind?”

Possibly,
Spock thought. “Emulating the good doctor is unworthy of you, Mr. Scott. Please see to it that sufficient power is diverted to the task and that the deflector grid remains operational.”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Spock, but that’s going to put a
considerable strain on our resources. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be able to manage this daft stunt of yours . . . sir.”

“Your caveats are noted, Mr. Scott. Spock out.”

On-screen, the results of his tactic were already visible. A force-field bubble, roughly following the contours of the
Enterprise,
now extended for approximately four hundred meters around the ship in every direction. The bubble was invisible except where the ubiquitous debris struck it, which was almost everywhere. Brilliant flashes of Cherenkov energy lit up the screen, making Spock grateful for his protective inner eyelids.

“Dim luminosity,” he instructed. “Thirty-point-two percent.”

For the moment, the refugee ships were safe within the
Enterprise
’s shields, but Spock knew that this was only a temporary solution. He needed to take advantage of the opportunity while he could.

“Shield status?”

“Thirty percent and holding,” Chekov reported. “For now.”

That will have to be enough,
Spock judged. He activated the intercom. “Transporter rooms. Lock onto shuttle crew and passengers.”

With the shuttle no longer outside the
Enterprise
’s shields, it was now possible to beam its endangered human cargo aboard. Unfortunately, this entailed abandoning
Columbus
and the last several evacuees
waiting back on Skagway, but that could not be helped. The evacuation was over now. All that remained was to stand guard over Skagway until it reached its inevitable end. Spock hoped that those left behind would make good use of what little time they had left.

“Transporter rooms reporting, sir.” Uhura was visibly relieved by the news. “The shuttle crew and passengers have been beamed aboard.”

On the viewer,
Columbus
veered away from the
Enterprise
. Spock assumed that Lieutenant Schneider had set an automatic course that would reduce the chance of any unwanted collisions. The tugs and scouts that had been shadowing the shuttle broke away from it to stay close to the starship instead. Spock watched as
Columbus
headed away from both Skagway and the
Enterprise
before slowing to a stop against the force-field barrier. In time, it, too, would be sucked in by the planet’s fluctuating gravity. A minor loss, compared with the epic tragedy facing the lunar colony.

“Shall I keep the shields extended, sir?” Chekov asked. “Now that our people have been beamed aboard?”

An excellent question,
Spock mused. He was reluctant to abandon the refugee flotilla to its fate but wondered how long the
Enterprise
could be expected to shelter the fragile craft beneath its metaphorical wings. “Shield status?”

“Twenty-eight percent,” Chekov said dolefully. “Eighty-five percent of generator output diverted to deflectors.
Other systems operating below capacity.”

The shields were consuming an excessive share of the ship’s energy and resources. Spock decided to issue one final warning to the hijacked vessels swarming the
Enterprise.

“Lieutenant Uhura, inform the refugees that no further evacuees will be brought aboard the
Enterprise.
Alert them, as well, that we will be withdrawing the protection of our shields in exactly ten minutes. They are strongly advised to return to the safety of the colony.”

“Such as it is,” Qat Zaldana said sadly.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Such as it is.”

He hoped none of the ships would attempt to ram its way through the
Enterprise
’s space doors into the landing deck. “Mr. Chekov, be on the alert for boarders. Fire on any vessel on an approach track for the shuttle-bay.”

“Aye, sir.”

Proximity alarms sounded on the bridge.

“Mr. Spock!” Sulu called out. “I’m tracking a huge iceball . . . heading straight for us!”

He relayed the threat’s coordinates to the main viewer. An immense white object filled the screen, dwarfing the other missiles around it. At first, Spock thought that Sulu might have accidentally ordered full magnification, but a quick glance at the viewer settings, as displayed on his chair readouts, invalidated that theory.

“Bozhe moi!”
Chekov blurted in his native tongue. “It’s as big as a house!”

“Distance two hundred meters and closing,” Sulu reported. “Azimuth twenty-one-point-six. Collision in one minute.”

“One minute, forty-eight seconds,” Spock corrected him. “Evasive action.”

“But there are ships all around us!” Sulu protested.

“And precisely nine hundred thirteen individuals aboard the
Enterprise,
” Spock stated. With their shields at less than thirty percent, they could not risk a collision of such magnitude. “Evasive maneuvers.”

“Aye, sir!” Sulu fought his control panel. “The helm’s not responding! It’s sluggish!”

The extended shields,
Spock realized. They were consuming too many generators and subroutines at the expense of other systems, helm control among them. “Mr. Scott,” he ordered Engineering. “More power to the helm.”

On the viewer, the ice ball came at them like a mountain. Spock realized that they could not evade it. Nor were the diminished shields enough to deflect it.

“All hands and passengers! Brace for impact!”

2020

The airlock was damp and uncomfortable. Free moisture had condensed on the bulkheads. Empty spacesuits were stowed on the walls. Rolled-up sleeping bags had been jammed into one corner. The cramped compartment had never been intended to house one prisoner, let alone two. Kirk found himself pining for the relative luxury of Shaun’s personal living quarters. It was hard to imagine spending the next three months there.