“Sadist! It would have been kinder to chuck me out the airlock.”
He chuckled. “Don’t let Fontana hear you say that.”
Thirty-plus days into the mission, Zoe had been a model prisoner so far. Talking Mission Control into continuing the mission, despite their unplanned passenger, had been a challenge, but Shaun and his fellow astronauts had ultimately prevailed. It had helped, of course, that the folks on the ground had been equally aware of the dire consequences of aborting the mission at the very moment public and political enthusiasm for the space program had reached record lows. Shaun knew that this decision was ultimately on him, though. He was still hoping that he hadn’t made a monumental mistake.
NASA had also chosen to keep the stowaway’s existence a secret for the time being, for fear of courting bad press. That was fine with Shaun. Let the PR flacks handle the spin control. He had a mission to complete.
A beep demanded his attention. He hit a button on his computer, and Fontana’s face appeared on the monitor. “You called?”
“Hate to interrupt your babysitting session,” she said drily, “but I thought you’d want to know that as of sixty seconds ago, we officially entered the asteroid belt.” She smirked. “No evasive action required yet.”
Shaun glanced out the nearest porthole. All he saw was the usual darkness and distant stars. No drifting boulders threatened the habitat module.
“We’ll have to break out a bottle of the good stuff for dinner tonight,” he said. Officially, NASA frowned on alcohol in space, but their Russian partners were more inclined to look the other way where liquid refreshment was concerned. As it happened, some generous cosmonauts had smuggled a couple of bottles into one of the Soyuz capsules that had carried supplies up to the Lewis & Clark while it was in orbit. “I think this calls for a celebration, kind of like crossing the international date line back in the old days.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to be the designated driver,” Fontana quipped. “I’m not sipping Tang while you hit the booze. Red wine is supposed to be good for combating weightlessness, you know.”
“So I hear,” he said. Studies had shown that a component of red wine, resveratrol, could help prevent bone-density loss and muscle atrophy, two common effects of life in space. NASA had prescribed resveratrol supplements for the whole crew, although the tablets lacked certain other benefits associated with a nice bottle of wine. “I suspect the doc will abstain. He’s not much of a drinker.” Shaun had never known O’Herlihy to indulge. “In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled for rolling rocks.”
He was kidding, mostly. Although the asteroid belt contained thousands of microplanets, the matter was spread so thinly that the odds were a billion to one against the ship colliding with anything; over the last half-century, numerous unmanned probes had passed through the belt unscathed, and Shaun had every reason to assume that the Lewis & Clark would do the same. Still, the ship’s LIDAR was on full alert for any potential hazards, and he and Fontana had agreed not to leave the cockpit unmanned until the ship was clear of the belt. They would be taking turns sleeping there for the next few weeks.
“Roger that,” she said. “You keep an eye on you-know-who.”
“Hi, Fontana!” Zoe shouted from the treadmill. “How you doing, girlfriend?”
Grimacing, the other woman cut off the trans-mission.
“You know, you really shouldn’t bait her like that,” Shaun said.
“Everybody needs a hobby.” She adjusted the straps digging into her shoulders in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. Despite being short of breath, she kept on talking. “So, am I included in this crossing celebration? I gotta admit, I could use a drink, especially after fighting this torture device.”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Why not? Provided you don’t try to blow up the ship between now and dinnertime.”
He wasn’t really worried about that anymore. NASA had checked out her story, and she appeared to be just what she claimed to be: an unusually nervy journalist out to make a name for herself. Over the last few weeks, he had been gradually letting her out of their improvised brig more often, for the sake of her health and sanity. He wasn’t about to grant her free run of the ship anytime soon, but as long as she behaved herself, there was probably no need to keep her locked up all the time. She actually wasn’t bad company, although he suspected that his copilot felt otherwise.
“Fontana won’t object?”
“Undoubtedly,” Shaun predicted. Fontana had not yet warmed to Zoe; she still regarded the stowaway as an intruder. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Rank has its privileges, huh?”
“And seniority,” Shaun said. “These gray hairs must count for something.”
“Yeah, you’ve been at this game for some time now, haven’t you? I did my homework on all of you before I boarded this cruise, as it were. You’ve got quite an interesting résumé, Colonel Christopher.” She kept up a steady pace on the treadmill. Shaun could smell the rubber soles of her sneakers heating up from the friction. “Say, Skipper, at the risk of pushing my luck, do you mind if I ask you some questions about your illustrious career — including your stint at Area 51?”
Oh, boy, he thought, going on alert. Here it comes. He’d been expecting this; it was a wonder that she had waited so long to bring it up. Probably wanted to ingratiate herself first.
“That’s classified, and you know it.”
“Even after all these years? C’mon, Skipper. Throw me a bone. What else are we going to talk about the next umpteen million miles?”
“There’s not much to tell,” he lied. “If you must know, yes, I was assigned to the Groom Lake Facility, popularly known as Area 51, for a brief time back in the nineties, where I helped test experimental aircraft that I can’t really talk about. Not exactly the stuff of tabloid headlines.”
That wasn’t the whole story, of course. In fact, he had been assigned to the development and construction of the DY-100, an experimental “sleeper ship” employing advanced technology reverse-engineered from a crashed “Ferengi” spacecraft recovered in Roswell back in 1947. If all had gone well, Shaun might have piloted the DY-100 on its maiden voyage, but the prototype had mysteriously vanished in 1996 under circumstances that puzzled him to this day. His friend and colleague, Shannon O’Donnell, had taken the fall for the loss of the DY-100, effectively ending her NASA career, but he’d always suspected that there was more to the story than she had ever let on. Last he’d heard, she had been involved with the Millennium Gate project in Indiana, and the DY-100 project had been tabled indefinitely. Maybe they’ll take those diagrams out of mothballs someday, he thought, if we pull this Saturn jaunt off without any more hitches.
He liked to think so.
“Why am I not buying this?” Zoe asked aloud. “You must have some good dirt from those days.”
“Sorry.” He tried to wave it off as if it was no big deal. “Believe me, Area 51 was not nearly as interesting as the TV specials and conspiracy theorists make out.”
“No alien autopsies or captured spaceships?”
“‘Fraid not.” He tried to change the subject. “Although my dad sighted a UFO once, back in the sixties.”
“Really?” Zoe sounded intrigued. “How did I miss that?”
“Well, there’s not much to the story.” Shaun fingered the dog tags around his neck. “The Air Force picked up a UFO on radar and sent my dad up in a fighter jet to check it out. He thought he glimpsed something in the sky over Omaha, but then it was gone in a blink. To be honest, he’s still not sure whether he really saw something or not.”
“What do you think?” Zoe asked.
“Who knows? It could have been a visiting spacecraft.”
As a kid, he had asked his dad to tell him about that UFO sighting over and over again; hell, it had probably helped inspire his lifelong interest in space travel. And his tour of duty at Area 51, years later, had certainly left Shaun open to the prospect of intelligent life from other worlds. He wasn’t about to dismiss what his dad had seen, however briefly, as just a trick of the light.
“Look at us,” he said, gesturing around at the cramped interior of the Lewis & Clark, which had been named after two legendary explorers. “We’re heading into space to see what — and who — might be out there. I have to imagine that other intelligent species are just as curious.” He chuckled, just so she wouldn’t think he was too much of a UFO nut. “Not that I’m expecting to run into any little green men on this mission.”
“Or any sexy green girls?”
“Sadly, no,” Shaun said. “But I like the way your mind works.” He saw another way to divert the conversation away from Area 51. “I’ve been reading some of your blogs, by the way. NASA transmitted them to me — as part of their background check. It seems you have something of a cult following on the Internet.”
Zoe beamed, clearly flattered. “So, what did you think?”
“To be honest, they were a little far-out for my tastes.” He called up one of her online exposés on the computer terminal. “You really think Khan Noonien Singh is still alive?”
A notorious dictator, Khan had wielded consider-able power back in the nineties. At the height of his influence, he was said to have been the de facto ruler of large portions of India, South Asia, and the Middle East. He had been overthrown in ’96—about the same time the DY-100 had disappeared, come to think of it. That had been a pretty tumultuous year.
“Maybe. They never found his body, you know — at least, not that it could be reliably determined. What’s more, according to my research, some eighty of his closest advisers and followers remain unaccounted for.”
Shaun hadn’t heard that before. “Where do you think they are? Tora Bora? A luxury estate in Kashmir?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet,” she admitted. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll find them waiting for us out by Saturn.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” he said. “Although you certainly have a vivid imagination, I’ll give you that.”
She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The timer beeped.
“That’s it,” he announced. “You’re done for the day.”
“Thank God!” She switched off the treadmill and unhooked the harness. “My feet are killing me. They’re not used to supporting all that weight, you know.”
“Don’t remind me.” His feet always felt positively raw when he got on the treadmill. He traded places with Zoe and strapped himself in. Back in orbit around Earth, he had once jogged in place for a full ninety minutes, just so he could say that he had literally run around the entire planet. He flicked the treadmill on. It felt as if he was walking on a bed of nails.
And he still had an hour to go!
“Oh, my poor little piggies.” She peeled off her socks and sneakers. Floating free, she massaged her aching feet. “Hey, Skipper, since we’re finally opening up and all, mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Not about Area 51, I hope.”
“Nah, although don’t think for a minute that I’ve given up on that angle.” She wiped off her sweaty face and limbs with a towel. “This is just for my own curiosity. Off the record.”
He started to pick up the pace. “Okay, shoot.”
“What’s the story with you and Fontana?”
Whoa! He missed a step but quickly recovered. “What do you mean? We’re just colleagues, that’s all.”
Once again, that wasn’t entirely the truth. He and Alice had conducted a discreet affair more than a year ago, shortly after his divorce, but had broken things off before it could get in the way of the mission. Ever since the Lisa Nowak scandal of 2007, NASA had frowned on excessive “fraternization” between astronauts. No way would they have both been assigned to this mission had the higher-ups known about their prior relationship.
“Uh-huh. Right.” Zoe scrutinized the jogging astronaut. “I’ve been watching you two. There’s a definite vibe there. I’ve seen the way you look at each other when you think nobody’s looking and how awkward it is whenever you accidentally touch each other. ’Fess up, Skipper. You two practicing orbital maneuvers on the sly?”
Damn, Shaun thought. He had to give her points for observational skills, not that he intended to share his private life with a nosy reporter. Off the record or not, that was between him and Fontana. “Like I said before, you have a vivid imagination.”
“But I also like to get my facts straight.” She deposited the towel in a sealed hamper. “Seriously, what’s the scoop? I mean, I know that the doc is happily married and all, but you really expect me to believe that you and Fontana aren’t getting busy on this trip? It’s a long way to Saturn and back.”
Shaun hoped that zero g didn’t make blushing easier. He quickened his pace on the treadmill, hoping the exertion would disguise any telltale flushes. “We have plenty to occupy us, thank you very much. This is a scientific mission, not a pleasure cruise.” He tried to joke away the subject. “Besides, I’m holding out for one of those green girls you mentioned.”
“You might want to clear that with Fontana first. I’m not sure she would approve.”
Possibly not. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He adjusted the harness, which was already digging into his hips and shoulders. He had to be careful to avoid developing blisters and friction burns. “What about you? Hope you’re not counting on an alien abduction.”
“Nah. I’m not into ETs.” She drifted over to the window and gazed out at the void. “But let me know if we run into Khan. Tyrant or not, he was a hottie.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” he promised.
Six
“Impact in thirty-nine seconds, Captain.”
All eyes were focused on the viewer as a slab of ice the size of an adult Horta came zooming at the dome protecting the Skagway colony. The frozen missile was accompanied by a rain of smaller particles from the outer rings. Flashes of blue Cherenkov energy flared whenever a sizable chunk struck the colony’s fading shields. It looked like an old-fashioned fireworks display.
“Fire at will, Mr. Chekov.”
A pair of brilliant sapphire beams, unleashed by the Enterprise ’s forward phaser banks, converged on the speeding slab. The directed energy blasts disintegrated the massive object, which glowed brightly before dissolving into atoms. Vaporized water dispersed into the vacuum.
“Bingo.” Sulu grinned at Chekov. “Right on target.”
“Good shooting,” Kirk agreed. “You’re proving quite the sharp-eyed marksman, Mr. Chekov.”
The young ensign shrugged modestly. “Sadly, I am getting rather too much practice.”
Tell me about it, Kirk thought. The Enterprise had taken up a defensive position between Skagway and the crumbling rings of Klondike VI, where such exercises had become increasingly necessary. The colony’s own defenses were no longer sufficient to keep its population safe. More than a day had passed since the ship had arrived at Skagway, and the storms were getting worse by the hour. Fresh cracks and craters marred the battered surface of the moon. Anti-meteor phaser arrays had been smashed to pieces by the very hazards they’d been designed to fend off. The Yukon Gap was supposed to be relatively clear of the debris. The colony had not been designed to cope with a barrage of this magnitude. Even as Kirk watched, another slab of ice hit the moon’s uninhabited southern hemisphere. He guessed that the tremors could be felt from kilometers away.
The Enterprise was helping, but Kirk knew they were only buying time. As if the storms weren’t bad enough, Spock had confirmed that Skagway’s own orbit was deteriorating. The moon was doomed to spiral into the planet’s atmosphere — unless some manner of solution could be found.
“Shuttle approaching the Enterprise, ” Uhura reported. “They’re requesting permission to come aboard.”
“Permission granted.” Kirk had been expecting this. Governor Dawson had promised to send her best person to consult with his crew. He activated his intercom. “Kirk to landing bay, prepare for company.”
On the viewer, the shuttle could be seen flying through the storm. Debris buffeted the small vessel, but its shields appeared to be holding. Kirk didn’t envy the pilot.
“Keep an eye on that shuttle,” he instructed, not wanting it to get nailed by an iceberg-sized missile before it reached the Enterprise. “Make sure it gets through intact.”
“Aye, sir,” Chekov said. “I will watch over it like a guardian angel.”
“Just hang on to your halo, Ensign,” Kirk quipped as he rose from his chair. He wanted to greet the delegation personally. “Would you please accompany me, Mr. Spock? I’m sure our guest would appreciate your scientific input.”
“Of course, Captain.” Spock stepped away from his station. “I am eager to ‘compare notes,’ as you might say, with the colony’s own expert.”
Kirk nodded at the helm. “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”
“Aye, sir.”
Sulu turned over the helm to Lieutenant Stoltzfus before taking the captain’s chair. Kirk happened to notice how much at home Sulu looked in charge of the bridge. Good, Kirk thought. He knew that Sulu had ambitions of having his own command someday. He’ll make a fine captain, I’m guessing. After he gets a bit more seasoning.
Spock joined Kirk in the turbolift. A short ride later, they arrived outside the shuttlecraft bay at the rear of the ship. “ Shuttle acquired, ” a voice announced over the intercom system. “ Repressurizing landing bay. ” Moments later, a green light flashed above the doorway, signaling that the deck was now safe to enter. Blue double doors slid open to admit them.
The shuttlecraft, which was smaller and of boxier design than the Starfleet models, rested at the center of the cavernous gray landing bay. Despite its shields, the shuttle’s exterior was freshly dented in places. Its outer plating had been dinged and chipped. Kirk was impressed that the pilot had been willing to fly through the barrage to get here.
A single passenger exited the shuttle. Slight of figure, Qat Zaldana wore a neatly tailored emerald blazer and matching skirt. Dark hair was piled atop her head in a beehive. A metallic gold veil completely concealed her face, making her age hard to determine. The veil seemed to be composed of dozens of overlapping sequins that sparkled like a transporter effect. Kirk wondered how she could see through the shimmering fabric.
“Welcome to the Enterprise, ” he greeted her. “I’m Captain Kirk, and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock.”
“Pleased to meet you, gentlemen.” She crossed the landing pad to join them. A shiny silver carry bag was slung over her shoulder. “I only wish the circumstances were less dire.”
“As do I,” he agreed. “But thank you for coming.”
According to Governor Dawson, Qat Zaldana was Skagway’s chief scientist and astronomer. Kirk was anxious to hear her views on the crisis threatening the colony. He offered her his arm. “If you’ll allow me.”
“You don’t need to guide me, Captain,” she said with a chuckle. “I can see perfectly well through my veil.”
“It is composed of a sensor web, is it not?” Spock surmised.
“That’s quite right, Mr. Spock. I belong to the Order of the Faceless, whose teachings require us to keep our visages to ourselves,” she offered by way of explanation. “I assure you, I am not a Klingon in disguise.”
“I never thought you were,” Kirk said. He was not familiar with the sect she had mentioned but had no intention of asking her to compromise her beliefs. The Federation embraced all manner of creeds and philosophies, some more esoteric than others. “But I’m impressed by the craftsmanship of your veil.”
Miranda Jones had worn a similar fabric, he recalled, but for a different reason. Apparently, the shimmering fabric was made of dozens of miniature sensors strung together in a complex lattice that probably allowed Qat Zaldana to perceive her surroundings better than either he or Spock could. For all he knew, she could see right through him — literally.
He couldn’t help wondering what she looked like.
“This old thing?” she joked. “I’ve had it for years.” She turned her shrouded face toward Spock. “I must say, Mr. Spock, I’m looking forward to working with you on this problem. Your reports to the Vulcan Science Council have made fascinating reading. I was particularly intrigued by your theories regarding temporal mechanics and mirror universes.”
“Indeed?” Spock was too Vulcan to be visibly flattered by their guest’s praise, but Kirk thought he detected a hint of pride in his friend’s voice. Or perhaps Spock simply appreciated encountering an equally scientific mind. “I hope you found my work illuminating.”
“Very much so,” she insisted. “I have to ask, do you really think that the long-term relativistic side effects of the so-called slingshot maneuver can be calculated by means of a factored transdifferential equation?”
“That depends on the constancy of acceleration and the maximum fungibility of the space-time continuum. There are many other variables to consider as well.”
“Such as the possibility of a quantum rift?”
“Precisely.”
Kirk smirked in amusement. “I hate to break up this small talk, but perhaps we should get down to business?”
“Of course, Captain,” she said apologetically. Her voice took on a more somber tone. “Is there somewhere we can talk? I have new data that may be of interest to you.”
“We can speak in the briefing room,” Kirk suggested. Before escorting her out of the landing bay, the captain cocked his head toward the parked shuttle. “What about your pilot? I imagine he might like to relax in one of our rec rooms, especially after that bumpy ride you just took.” He shook his head. “You were both brave to go out in that storm.”
Ordinarily, the Enterprise would have just beamed the scientist aboard, but that would have involved lowering the colony’s shields. Under the circumstances, a shuttle flight from the spaceport outside the dome had seemed a safer bet — at least, for everybody back on the moon.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Captain,” she said warmly, “but there is no ‘both.’ I piloted the shuttle myself.”
“I see,” Kirk said, impressed. Qat Zaldana was clearly a woman of many talents. “This way, then.”
The doors slid shut behind them as they entered the corridor outside. Busy crew members, intent on their duties, hustled past them. An engineering team performed routine maintenance on an exposed power conduit. Kirk lowered his voice on the way to the turbolift.
“So, what’s it like down on the colony?” he asked. “How are people bearing up?”
“No better than you might expect, Captain.” Zaldana kept her voice subdued. “The governor is doing her best to try to keep everyone calm, but people are frightened. Who can blame them? Tremors are shaking the moon, the storms won’t let up, and everyone’s worried about what’s coming next. Your timely arrival has reassured people a little, but nobody knows if that’s going to be enough. Folks are on the verge of panicking, I’m afraid.”
Kirk didn’t like the sound of that. A rioting population could cost lives and make evacuation efforts even more difficult. He made a mental note to ask Governor Dawson if she needed any additional security forces.
“Panic is seldom logical,” Spock observed, “but your fellow colonists have reason to fear for their safety. By my calculations, Skagway will soon fall out of its orbit unless we can determine the source of these anomalies and find a way to restore the status quo.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why you need to see my new data right away.”
Kirk didn’t have to see her face to know how urgent this was. He commandeered the nearest turbolift, which took them directly to a hallway outside the ship’s main briefing room. The lights turned on automatically as they entered the chamber and sat down at the conference table. Kirk briefly wondered if he should summon McCoy or Scotty to this meeting but decided against it; he could get their advice later if necessary. Kirk activated the computer terminal.
“All right,” Kirk said. “What do you have for us, Ms. Zaldana?”
“Please, call me Qat,” she insisted.
“If you wish,” he said. “Is that a name or a title?”
“Both,” she answered. “But take a look at this.”
She inserted a data card into the terminal. An image appeared on the triscreen viewer facing their seats. Churning clouds swirled around what appeared to be an enormous hexagon bordered by six dark purple jet streams. The vortex seemed to extend deep into the planet’s turbulent atmosphere. Straight sides and sharp angles gave it an oddly artificial appearance, not at all like a natural weather pattern.
“What you’re looking at,” she explained, “is one of Klondike VI’s most distinctive features: an enormous hexagonal vortex that permanently covers the planet’s north pole. It’s more than thirty thousand kilometers across, large enough to hold at least four Earth-sized planets, and it’s been there for as long as anyone remembers.”
Kirk examined the image, which looked familiar. “I’ve seen storm formations like this before. There’s one just like it on Saturn.”
“As well as on Myrddin V, Nova Limbo, Valhalla Prime, and various other gas giants throughout the quadrant,” Spock added. “All ringed planets, as it happens.”
“Just so,” she confirmed. “The hexagon on Klondike VI is virtually identical to the one on Saturn, or at least it was.” She advanced the file on the computer. “That image was taken months ago. Now look at time-lapse recordings taken over the last several weeks.”
On the screens, the colossal hexagon began to contract, gradually at first but with increasing speed. Deep purple clouds lightened in color, looking pale and washed-out. A time stamp at the bottom of the recording charted the vortex’s contraction. Weeks clicked by rapidly.
“It’s shrinking,” Kirk said. “Growing smaller by the day.”
She nodded. “And at an accelerating rate.”
“Fascinating,” Spock observed. “Such formations are known to be uniquely stable. To my knowledge, a contraction of this nature has never been observed elsewhere.”
Kirk stared at the screen facing him. The hexagon was only a fraction of its original size. “And you only just noticed this?”
“We’ve been rather preoccupied with the outer rings raining down on us,” Zaldana pointed out. “Besides, the process began so slowly that it was almost imperceptible at first, like watching grass grow or a glacier slowly melt over time. By the time you register the change, it’s already well under way.”
Kirk could see that. The surface of Klondike VI was vast and turbulent, after all. He could hardly expect the colonists to monitor every square kilometer of the planet at all times. Skagway was primarily a mining operation, not a scientific outpost. The gas giant was just background scenery to them.
“And the hexagon started shrinking around the same time the rings began collapsing?” the captain noted. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“No,” she agreed. “But is it a cause or an effect? Or is some other factor causing both phenomena?”
Kirk looked at Spock. “What do you think? Could what’s happening to the hexagon be causing the rings to deteriorate?”
“That is impossible to determine without further data,” Spock declared, clearly reluctant to speculate before all of the facts were in. “But this development certainly warrants closer study. I suggest we use the ship’s scanners to examine the vortex.”
“An excellent idea, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, “pro-vided it doesn’t get in the way of protecting the colony.” He mentally charted the Enterprise ’s position, trying to determine a location that would put them in the best place to observe the planet’s north pole and defend the besieged moon at the same time. That was going to be tricky. “Don’t forget. Hundreds of lives are at stake.”
“I am quite aware of that, Captain,” Spock stated, “but unless we can determine the source of the disturbances and find a means to reverse them, there will be no colony to defend.”
Qat Zaldana inhaled sharply behind her veil.
“Forgive my bluntness,” Spock apologized. “But the facts are what they are.”
“You needn’t apologize for stating the truth, Mr. Spock.” Her voice was solemn but unshaken. “Skagway is doomed unless we can stop this. I know that.”
Kirk was impressed by her bravery. He’d known Starfleet recruits to crack under less pressure. “Aside from the hexagon, is there anything else we should know? Another avenue of investigation?”
“Funny you should ask that, Captain.” She placed a new card in the computer. “There is something else you should see.”
The seething hexagon vanished from the screens, replaced by the image of a luminous white comet. A haze of dusty vapor surrounded its frozen nucleus. Its misty tail stretched out behind it, no doubt pointed away from the nearest sun.
