Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow (17 page)

What could he have found?
The question rang in Chen’s mind. How did Starfleet or the Federation factor into future events with the Raqilan or Golvonek? Perhaps it was the opposite that was true, and it was a lack of such connection or involvement that was the issue. Of course, that line of thinking served only to trigger a host of new questions, and Chen quickly realized she was going to end up going in circles or, worse yet, driving herself crazy as she attempted to ponder all the possibilities.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, “I get what you’re doing, and why you have to do it. I just wish I could help you. That’s all.”

Taurik nodded. “Your desire to assist me is appreciated, and under most other circumstances I would welcome the offer.”

From behind him, an alert tone sounded from her own workstation, and she looked past him to see that a section of data scrolling on one of her console’s screens had stopped and now was highlighted.

“What have we got here?” she asked, returning to her seat. “Maybe I get to violate the Temporal Prime Directive, too.” Leaning forward in her chair, she studied the new string of information the computer had flagged. “Okay, maybe not as interesting as your little secret, but at least it’s something we can use.” She pointed at the screen. “The computer managed to dig out something about the
Arrow
’s construction. There’s some kind of facility on a moon orbiting one of the system’s uninhabited planets, Landorem. Maybe that’s where it was built. Or, will be built.”

“Or, perhaps where it is currently being built,” Taurik offered.

Chen nodded. “Yeah, that.” She shrugged. “I guess there’s only one way to find out. Maybe now we can start to get some real answers.”

17

Aside from personal combat—real or simulated, though he still preferred the real—there were few activities Worf enjoyed as much as flying. With his present duties, it was a rare occasion that allowed him to take the controls of a shuttlecraft or other smaller vessel, so he took advantage of any opportunity that might present itself. If the flight presented a degree of difficulty that exceeded the usual sort of shuttlecraft journey, so much the better.

Such was the case today.

His fingers moving with practiced ease over the cockpit’s main console, Worf guided the shuttlecraft
Siouxsie
out of the path of the oncoming asteroid, watching the mass of rock roll past in the void as the smaller and far more fragile shuttle maneuvered around it.

“That was a little close,” said Elfiki from where she sat in the cockpit’s copilot seat.

“Perhaps,” Worf admitted. Had he allowed the onboard computer to control the craft rather than minding the controls himself, the
Siouxsie
would have altered its course far earlier, giving the asteroid a wide berth, along with the handful of others they had passed since entering the debris field. Like many asteroid belts found in other solar systems, this one was not dense, at least not the region the shuttlecraft currently traversed. Navigating around the hazards the field presented was a routine affair and in truth, the shuttle’s onboard navigational and collision avoidance systems coupled with his own skills made it so that the craft was in no real danger. It was this mitigating of risk that might have disappointed him in days past, but age, maturity, and experience had seen to it that Worf was well beyond such youthful imprudence.

This did not mean he could not partake in a bit of occasional fun.

“For some reason,” Elfiki said, “I didn’t know you liked piloting shuttles.”

Worf offered a grunt in reply. “It has always been something I enjoyed. When I was a cadet, I often volunteered to pilot instructors or other personnel to Jupiter or other Academy facilities.” From the beginning of his studies, which had included numerous hours spent in flight training and related assignments, he had developed an appreciation for the freedom which could only be obtained by soaring among the clouds or the stars. As an ensign and junior-grade lieutenant, he had been given ample opportunity to strengthen his skills and feed his private indulgence whenever a senior officer needed a pilot for a shuttle or transport.

With no small hint of mischief in her voice, Elfiki asked, “You didn’t hit any asteroids during any of those flights, did you, sir?”

“No,” replied Worf, “but there is always a first time.” Despite the safety features built into the
Siouxsie
’s navigational and helm controls, the geological makeup of the asteroids littering the field was having an effect on the shuttlecraft’s sensors, with readings deteriorating in proportion to distance from the ship. For their purposes, scans would be effective enough to guide them through the belt, but Worf had already cut the shuttle’s speed even further to lessen the likelihood of being caught off guard by a wayward mass of tumbling rock.

The science officer nodded. “Great. You can just let me off anywhere.”

Unperturbed by her gentle humor, he said, “We should be closing on our intended destination.”

Tapping a series of controls on her own console, Elfiki reported, “The moon orbiting Landorem is located approximately eleven million kilometers beyond the field’s outer boundary.” She pointed to one of the sensor displays that the Klingon could see from his seat. “Given the field’s relative lack of asteroids, I’m surprised the Raqilan thought it might provide suitable cover. On the other hand, I can also see how the Golvonek thinking that sneaking through or around the field could provide a nice route for a surprise attack.”

“Remember that their spaceflight technology is not as advanced as ours,” Worf said. “Neither are their sensors. Given the limited number of vessels either side has to expend on interplanetary attacks, it is reasonable to assume they would not take undue risks which might result in the loss of ships.” He suspected this was particularly true of the Golvonek, who appeared to have mounted a largely defensive campaign against the apparently more aggressive Raqilan. “At their present technology levels, piloting a ship through the belt would still present a risk. Even with our sensors, if I were to accelerate to maximum speed, the threat to us would increase considerably.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that, sir,” Elfiki remarked. “At least, not until we clear the field.”

After his private conversation with Jodis, who had informed him that the
Arrow
in the here and now was in the earliest stages of its construction but was unwilling to offer assistance in locating the nascent vessel, Captain Picard had assigned Lieutenants Elfiki and Chen the task of locating its build site. Chen’s efforts had been successful in extracting information from the derelict’s computer files that seemed to answer this question—data corroborated with earlier
Enterprise
long-range sensor scans of System 3955 in which several of the moons had shown signs of habitation. The readings were inconclusive at this distance, prompting the captain to dispatch Worf and Elfiki in a shuttlecraft bound for the probable location of the
Arrow
as it existed in the present.

Except that the completed
Arrow
already exists in the present
, the Klingon mused.
I truly loathe time travel
.

Even setting out on the excursion had required a bit of deception, with Worf and Elfiki departing aboard the
Siouxsie
and warping away from the
Enterprise
on a course that took them out of the Canborek system. Once they had traveled beyond the range of the Golvonek ships’ sensors, Worf had altered the shuttlecraft’s trajectory so that it could enter the system undetected before proceeding on to their planned destination. The elaborate ruse was necessary to prevent the Golvonek from learning of the
Arrow
’s existence while it still was being constructed. Of course, he also believed that Mynlara or one of her superiors eventually would piece together this odd puzzle and discover the truth behind the weapon ship, thereby thwarting this entire effort at secrecy.

There is nothing to be done about that now
, he reminded himself.

A tone from the cockpit’s sensor controls made Elfiki reach for the console. She pressed one of the keys on the station’s sleek black interface. “We’re clear of the field, sir.”

“Excellent,” said Worf. “Accelerating to full impulse.” The relatively short distance separating them from Landorem and its moon made warp drive impractical, but with the asteroid field now behind them, the
Siouxsie
’s sensor readings would now improve. Altering course, he aligned the shuttle so that the moon was visible through the main viewing port. It was small, gray, and seemingly lifeless, alone among the blackness of space.

After a moment spent studying the scan data being relayed to her console, Elfiki said, “There’s definitely a lot of activity on that moon. There’s no atmosphere, but the signs of technology are unmistakable, although it’s mostly concentrated to one area. I’m picking up what appears to be an artificial construct, but it’s much larger than the
Arrow
, along with what’s probably a support base and related infrastructure.” Then, hunching over her controls, she frowned. “Wait, this . . . something’s not right here.”

“What is it?” Worf asked.

Elfiki shook her head. “I’m not sure, sir. According to these readings, this ship is a lot further along in its construction than just a simple skeleton or space frame, but that’s not even the weirdest part. Our initial scans of the
Arrow
—the one we found, I mean—showed a neutronium composite hull, but that’s not what I’m seeing here. The sensors are reading a massive hull that’s solid neutronium, with none of the other elements we detected before.”

“Are you saying this is not the same craft?”

“Jodis didn’t say anything about there being more than one, and we haven’t found anything about multiple ships in any of the
Arrow
’s computer files.” She pointed to one of her readings. “Look at this, sir. The vessel I’m scanning? It’s bigger than the
Arrow
. Not significantly so, but it’s definitely longer and wider, and now I’m seeing that its general shape is similar but not identical. This is a different ship, Commander.”

Worf said nothing for several moments as the shuttlecraft approached the moon, his attention focused on his own instruments. When a new reading appeared on his console, he straightened in his seat. “We are being scanned,” he said. “Low-power sensors, perhaps motion detectors or simple radar, but someone knows we are coming. I am commencing an evasive course.” He adjusted the
Siouxsie
’s flight path so that it dropped toward the moon’s airless, barren gray-brown surface, the desolate terrain all but filling the forward viewing port as he guided the compact ship into a steep dive. Unlike other models of shuttlecraft, the
McCall
class was designed to fly and maneuver more like a small fighter than actual transport, and this was further reflected in its armaments and defenses.

“I’ve lost track of their sensor returns,” said Elfiki as she hunched over her console. “I think we shook them, at least for the time being.” Touching another control and consulting her readings, she pointed toward the viewing port, behind which was a range of dull gray mountains that were growing larger and closer with every passing moment. “The ship should be over that ridge.”

Adjusting the shuttle’s course, Worf decelerated the
Siouxsie
and maneuvered it over the top of one of the smaller mountains, and as he dropped the shuttle’s nose the moon’s surface came once more into view. The first thing he noticed was the monstrous, dark gash that had been carved into the dead lunar soil. His initial thought was that it was a natural feature, a canyon created by whatever erosion or earthquake or other upheaval which might have taken place millions or even billions of years earlier, but that notion was quickly dismissed as he noted the straightness and sharpness of the furrow.

Elfiki gasped. “Would you look at that? It’s huge. Sensors show it’s nearly a thousand meters across and almost nine kilometers long.”

In some ways, the trough carved into the lunar surface reminded Worf of the path of destruction wrought by the
Enterprise
-D when its saucer section had crash-landed fifteen years earlier on Veridian III. This trail was wider and deeper, suggesting to the first officer that whatever had caused it had been far larger, contained much more mass, and had not benefitted from a controlled crash but instead plowed unrestrained into the lifeless moon.

Even with the
Siouxsie
’s reduced speed, it took little time to traverse the length of the gouge carved into the arid lunar soil, but well before they reached its far end Worf was able to see structures jutting up from the surface. To him they appeared similar to domes and emergency shelters used by Starfleet personnel and Federation colonists in similar environments or where the atmosphere was poisonous. It was not these that concerned him, however, but rather the very large object around which the structures had been built.

“It can’t be,” he heard Elfiki say, echoing similar thoughts racing through the Klingon’s head as he beheld what could only be the cause of the horrific scar marring the moon’s surface. “Look at the size of that thing.”

The vessel, if indeed it was a ship, lay nearly half-buried at the end of the colossal trench it had forged with what must have been a harrowing descent from orbit. Though it had amazingly remained in one piece, its hull had fractured in the midst of its death throes with massive fissures visible along its length. Its exterior, dark and mottled, seemed to absorb the sunlight that highlighted the pallid soil surrounding it while reflecting off the metal surfaces of the obviously artificial structures erected around it. Still, Worf was able to make out what appeared to be raised areas, spaced at regular intervals along the broken hull and suggesting to him what might once have been weapons emplacements.

As with the
Arrow
?

Conical in shape, it was narrowest at its tail end, widening toward its head. Even partially obscured by the dirt and rock it had thrown up as a result of its crash, the crown of the enormous vessel still towered above all but a pair of the nearest buildings, which Worf now saw were little more than elaborate scaffolding, with immense metal skeletons that reminded the Klingon of a construction framework.

“Commander,” Elfiki said, her voice low and tentative, “is that what I think it is?”

Having seen two vessels of similar design in his lifetime, Worf knew precisely what the science officer was thinking, and he had no choice but to agree. Without replying to her question, he tapped the communications control on his console.

*   *   *