The Early Years To Boldly Go, Ch 6-15 By C.L. Nelson

CHAPTER SIX

The two fighter craft pulled in the long range scan array, and began off toward the last reported sighting of the mystery ship. Lieutenant Commander Gregory Fairfield swept the area with the onboard radar equipment, which also analyzed the readouts and attempted to assemble a visual display out of it. The image on the screen looked like empty space. There were a few labels attached to some known references, but it was still considered an uncharted void.

"Let's move thirty five degrees starboard," he told his wingman, "On my mark."

The ships glided off in the prescribed direction, one only slightly farther back and to the right of the other, in formation. There was a glint from something in the distance, almost mirror-like.

"What was that?" the wingman, Lieutenant Arnold Lasker asked.

"Nothing on the readouts," commented Fairfield.

"I don't see it, now."

The light came from out of nowhere, enveloping the two ships. The entire cockpit was lit up.

"What the hell?" Lasker yelled.

"Break it off, on my mark."

"Heading?"

"Evasive maneuvers, we'll meet up on the other side."

The two ships struggled their way through the light, although they were blinded, except for their instruments. Their "night vision" which was basically an acclamation to the almost complete darkness had been ruined, and they were dealing with the equivalent of a sunny day on earth.

Fairfield's target acquisition alarm went off. He switched modes on his screen, trying to identify whatever was pinging. The crosshairs came into view, signifying a lock on whatever it was. His finger settled on the fire control button...

Darkness had returned to Lasker's world as the light disappeared. He looked toward the outside of the cabin, trying to get a fix on his position. Whatever it was had gone. He switched scanner modes, trying to plot a course back to the Exeter.

"Exeter control this is explorer two, come in."

"Go ahead, explorer two"

"We were attacked by something. Did you get anything on your

scanners?"

"Stand by explorer two."

***

He had to take the chance, the target was right there. This would get him out of this situation, and maybe force some sort of solution. Something hit the side of the ship, spinning it sideways. He corrected for it and pressed the fire control button.

The port engine erupted into flames. The craft spun sideways. Lasker tried to regain control, jerking on the control stick.

"I've been hit!" he shouted.

***

Exeter control became a flurry of activity.

"Have we got him?" the Senior Controller asked.

The spacecraft controller furiously tried to sort through the electronic noise being displayed on the screen, "There, that's him!" he pointed.

The watch officer activated his intercom panel, "Flight Deck to bridge, we have him. I'm sending you the coordinates.

***

Now was the time to use the new transportation device, thought April, "Bridge to transport officer."

"Transport division reporting."

"Let's try that new thing of yours. Lock on to these coordinates," he pressed a button to send the electronic data package down the intercom links to the transport buffers.

"Energizing...stand by, Captain."

***

The fires were everywhere, licking at Lasker's feet, the seat material, and the artificial environment around him. There was a hiss of decompression as the seals were being melted by the flames. The heat was beginning to penetrate his suit. Normal procedure was to blow the canopy and eject, but this wasn't a battle, and there weren't any rescue ships in the area to fish him out. His own personal oxygen would give him two hours, at best. He could barely see the panel through the smoke. His hands searched for the discharge handles.

***

"Transport! Do we have him, yet?" demanded April, leaning on the edge of his seat.

"I'm having trouble getting a lock. He's just within range Radiation seems to be affecting the tracking system. Stand by, Captain"

That's what I've been doing, he thought to himself.

***

Lasker found the handle, slipping his fingers into the ring. He was beginning to feel dizzy. Something must be wrong with the oxygen mix, he thought. He checked his suit again. The numbers were getting strange! He looked down at himself. Part of him was vanishing! What was going on? Was this death by some unseen disintegration? He screamed as his vision began to fade into a gray, then colorful display of lights and images.

***

"We have him!" the Transport officer reported.

The form began to take shape on the cylindrical platform, shimmering first, then outlining the figure in gray hues. It was now visibly a human in a spacesuit.

Captain April entered the room while this was all taking place. He'd never seen anything like it before, anywhere. The noise of the matter/energy integration units was deafening. A high-pitched echoing whine as the machine fulfilled its task of rebuilding a human being.

The form on the pad changed from sparkling lights to a dim outline of a human form, to finally a human in a spacesuit which staggered forward, still in the half-sitting position, preparing for ejection which then fell off the platform.

A medical team ran forward to treat any injuries. They removed his helmet.

Lasker tried to speak, "Am...I...dead?"

"No, son," April answered, "You've just helped us test out this transport gizmo. Welcome back."

The medical team put Lasker on a stretcher and rushed him off

to sickbay.

***

The light which had enveloped Fairfield's ship had vanished. Space appeared very dark until his eyes got used to the ambient light of the cockpit once more. He changed modes on the display to find the Exeter. The monitor showed no sign of her. He looked out into the darkness, once he regained his vision. The stars didn't look the same. All the visual references were wrong. Where was he? A cold chill ran down his spine as he thought of the prospect of being marooned in unknown space. He set his display to search mode, hoping to find somewhere hospitable for him to set down.
 

"It appears that what we've encountered was something stellar physicists call a 'wormhole.' That's an unstable area of space where distances and velocity don't mean anything," Giraud explained.

"This is what you were able to find from the data on board Lasker's ship?" asked Szylnick.

"The radiation traces from some of the debris we scanned seem to fall into the pattern, although all theories concerning this phenomena are still unproven. Until now, no one has even encountered one, except for a mathematical model."

"There's no trace of the other ship. Did it go down the wormhole?" April asked.

"That would be my assumption."

"Can we follow it down?" Szylnick offered.

"The one main problem with most wormholes, is that they are believed to be unstable. In other words, they don't stay in the same place for very long."

A silence fell over the bridge. It was not a happy prospect being marooned in a small starfighter. There was only a few hours of oxygen, and the prospects of finding a survivable world are less than ten percent. The most likely fate would be from either freezing or suffocating inside the ship. Neither one of those options were particularly appealing.

The sensor alert signal went off. Szylnick went to the weapons console to see what it was.

"Red alert!" April announced. Sirens went off and red lights flashed on the bridge.

"Nothing on the scans," Szylnick reported.

"I want a horizontal lightsweep of the forward area."

The ship's spotlight, located on the most forward area of the cylindrical hull lit up, the servomotors moving it precisely from port to starboard, its light beam cutting through the darkness like a sabre. It swept slowly forward while the weapons console took in all the information and prepared it for human consumption.

"I got it! Magnifying...we got a print!" Szylnick rattled on throughout his procedure.

Giraud used the information for a positive identification, "Computer verifies the vessel as being Romulan. We have company, captain."

"Battle stations!"

The atmosphere on the bridge grew tense, with all the crew members working in perfect precision, as they all had been trained, just like gears in a highly complex machine. The only sounds were those that were necessary, speaking to each other with the information gathered from the instruments. The lights were dimmed to allow for a clearer readout of the data displays at each of the consoles.

"We have a bearing..." Szylnick announced, "One five two, mark twelve"

April was on the edge of his seat, anticipating what the captain of the Romulan vessel would do next.

"Communications, " he ordered, "Open a channel."

"Channel open, sir. Go ahead."

He tried to muster as much dignity as he could in his voice, as to command some respect, which was doubtful considering the audience it was intended for, "This is Captain Robert April of the battleship Exeter. We are on a peaceful mission, we mean no harm."

"Harm is the only thing a Space Command battleship ever meant to me!" bellowed the Romulan voice from the audio channel, "What business do you have here?"

"We are on a mission of scientific exploration."

"With a battleship? I find that extremely difficult to believe."

"Excuse me, but we are at least two parsecs from the Neutral Zone, and you have crossed over into Earth territory."

"But you are on a projected course directly into the Neutral Zone. I feel justified that I have violated the treaty in order to stop a surprise attack!"

April calmly put his fist down on the arm of the command console, trying to deal with his anger. It would be so much easier to kill this jerk right now, he thought to himself.

"Sir, we lost the signal," the communications officer reported.

Another alarm went off.

"New contact! Bearing...moving too fast to chart!" Szylnick was shouting as he furiously tried to work his controls.

"Evasive action, Mr. Schmidt!"

***

The ship turned away wildly, moving to full warp. The bright light spread out in all directions, but the ship was free from it, just crossing the artificially created horizon, where night met daylight. Just as fast, the daylight receded, taking the Romulan with it.

***

"I think I have the point of origin," reported Szylnick.

"Lock and fire missiles!" April ordered, "at will!"

***

Two missiles left the ship, fiercely tracking the path of the light storm which had just taken place. They sensed the receding daylight, moving forward toward the target.

***

"We hit, sir. Minimal damage, but its not moving."

"New course, same direction. Let's see what we're dealing with."

"I have an image now."

"Let's see it."

It was a disk-shaped object, with points along the edge. The missiles had made contact with the right side. The rightmost point had been knocked sideways, exposing the internal structure of the craft. There was some fire, but mostly, it was just bent up. It appeared to be the same craft that the long range scanners had picked up earlier. April noted that at first glance, it looked a little like a Romulan warbird, but the size was much too small. He held the printout in his hand, comparing the two.

"They barely did any damage at all," Szylnick observed.

April got out of his seat, staring straight at the object being displayed. "Is that a ship?" he asked.

"It conforms to all the basic ship identification guidelines, but it is not inhabited by any life readings," Giraud answered.

"Let's suit up and take a look at this thing. Szylnick, you have the bridge."
 

There was a sudden lurch as the starfighter lost power. It was completely out of fuel, now. The electrical systems all ran off solar collectors, so the instruments still worked, but the ship would have to coast toward anywhere, now. There were no controls now, no maneuvering capability at all. The only path was a straight line. He looked at his display, noting the approximate distance of the planet the survival program had picked out, and now it didn't look like he was going to make it. He sat back in complete frustration, letting go of the control stick.

Then things got worse. The outline of a Romulan was taking shape out of the near darkness. It was common knowledge that they usually didn't take prisoners. However, this was no longer a time of war, so there may be a chance that he would survive this ordeal after all.

***

The landing party entered the wreck's main corridor through a boarding tube extended from the Exeter. They stepped out of the tube onto the deck. There were working lights, and from the look of it, meant to be serviced by someone or something. Giraud began scanning with a tricorder, while April examined the structure of the corridor. Jarvis was searching for some sort of machine room which may shed light on the mystery ship.

***

"I'm reading power fluctuations in this direction," Giraud pointed, "This is probably where the control center is. They moved down the corridor, meeting up with a doorway. It opened when they were within its sensing range. Inside was a vast array of different machinery. At the moment, it was mostly all unidentifiable, but it appeared to be a complete system. Jarvis began looking at the contraptions, trying to make sense out of the gadgetry. He found a service panel on one of the devices and began looking around inside.

"There seems to be a lot of temporal disturbances in this area," Giraud commented.

"Temporal?" April questioned, "Meaning time?"

"Affirmative, captain. Not enough to cause any widespread changes in the time/space environment, but there are one to two millisecond jumps in the chronological readings."

"This part here looks like part of the transport mechanism," Jarvis commented from behind the panel.

"Captain, suppose that the disturbance we experienced was man-made?" Giraud speculated.

"That would require technology far beyond our capabilities. What would be the point? Anyway, I'm not sure what you're getting at." April replied.

"A theory, captain," she signaled the Exeter, "Download the records from Lieutenant Lasker's starfighter to my tricorder."

The operation took a few minutes, but when transfer was complete, she set down to proving her theory. Jarvis was working on adjacent machinery, trying to identify what the components were. He wasn't too successful.

"In my opinion, captain, Giraud's theory makes sense. If the one component here is in fact a transport machine, then what we experienced could've been generated by this--Wait a minute, look at this!"

April crouched down to see what the engineer was talking about. He was amazed.

"This looks like a tie-in to a propulsion system." he speculated.

"That's right, captain. This thing is able to maneuver its way into the path of whatever its after, then unleashes the rest of its machinery on them. My guess is that this is an automated system. Look, there's the interface connect here. It runs all the way to the navigational computer, I guess. It's not in this room."

"Here, this is what I was trying to say," explained Giraud, slightly frustrated, "The monitor is reading the precise coordinates of Lasker's starfighter."

The group huddled around Giraud's tricorder as she relayed the scenario.

"It is at this moment, look at the coordinates, that the ship experiences the same attack which we did."

"You think we were attacked?" asked Jarvis.

"Absolutely. Here is a record of our own experience. Watch the coordinate readout."

The same thing happened at the exact same coordinate readout.

"A threshold," April mused. Maybe there would be a place for science on this voyage after all, he thought.

"Somebody doesn't want us to see something here," Giraud surmised.

***

The Romulans were ugly looking beings with dark, piercing eyes and pointed ears. They had pulled Fairfield's starfighter aboard their vessel, and began to crowd around it, staring at him. One of them began using a tool to pry the canopy open, while two others held a weapon on him. The tip was pointed, conical and transparent. He could see the emitter encased inside the barrel. It was a large weapon, made for large hands, which was one of the Romulans' physical characteristics. He guessed that the one in the gold outfit was the captain. They were all tall, but he seemed taller than the rest. His dark eyebrows highlighted his angular face and square jaw. He wore a silver sash with some ornamentation, presumably rank insignia or medals, Fairfield thought. This was the first time anyone had seen Romulans up close. Since they normally didn't take prisoners, he'd never live to tell anyone about this event. There were others in different versions of the same basic uniform, with different colored sashes. One of them spoke in a deep, throaty growl.

"Es tu kon svim behat?" the Romulan asked.

Fairfield just looked at him, not understanding what his captor had just said The Romulan frowned and adjusted the microphone-like object he held in his hand. He began again.

"What business do you have here? This is not Earth territory." The device said as the Romulan spoke into it.

"I don't think this is Romulan territory, either. Oh, and by the way, thank you for rescuing me," Fairfield responded, slightly annoyed. He was trying not to upset these beings, since they were known for their tempers.

"We are in Romulan territory!"

"Your people think everything is Romulan territory."

The Romulan holding the disruptor fired. Fairfeild felt a dazzling sensation as the ray hit him, then the urge to vomit. He felt as though each nerve had been simultaneously turned on to received pain. He started feeling weak, his knees buckling as he hit the deck.

"That was the lowest setting," the Romulan with the translator explained, "The next one will be far worse, I assure you. Now, I ask you again. Why have you violated Romulan space?"

Fairfeild rolled towards the speaker, "I don't know. I came through some sort of field. I can't find my ship. That's the truth."

The Romulan grinned, "Truth is a relative term in our society. For example, we see that you have suffered battle damage, and your weaponry has recently been fired. This would conclude you were attacking something."

"Look, we're on a peaceful mission. We're just exploring uncharted space."

For the first time in history, a human saw a Romulan laugh. Not just a small giggle, but a large, belly-laugh which shook the room with its presence, "You expect me to believe that such a vessel of war would actually be used for something other than its intended use? That is preposterous! Your ship is no longer a threat to us. It floats as nothing more than debris. If there are any more of your vessels in the area, they will be dealt with in the same manner."

The speaker motioned for the two Romulans holding weapons to take him away, and they dragged him off by his arms. He motioned to one of the others. The flight deck doors opened. A romulan in the control booth suspended just above their heads began working on a control panel, firing a repulsor blast at the starfighter, pushing it out of the bay.

Fairfeild went numb inside. It couldn't be possible, he thought, as the guards began dragging him out of the room, the Exeter, destroyed?.

"Destroy that garbage!" the speaker ordered.

The Romulan vessel turned to face the starfighter as it tumbled through space. The warbird emitted one pulse of energy from its forward area. The pulse floated toward the starfighter, slowly making its way to its target. It seemed to drift along as if it were a bubble of soap. Then, it connected with the spacecraft and the bubble turned deadly. The instant the ship made contact, it disintegrated in a large fireball before disappearing completely from view.
 

Fairfeild was horrified at the prospect of his situation. The disappearance of their ship would start another round of war! Not even the Romulans are that irrational. His mind was racing, trying to figure out the situation. He remembered that Romulans were famous for psychological warfare, using it most successfully during the war. What am I doing here? Romulans never take prisoners unless they need something from them. Most likely it was information, but what? He saw multiple doors and corridors as they dragged him towards his holding cell. They stopped just short of an area which looked like a door, but it had no apparent seam. The door was traced by a brown line, which followed the outline of the door way. The guards repositioned Fairfeild so that he faced the door. Curious, he thought, the door's not opening. The guards threw him directly at the door, yet it still didn't open! Fairfeild braced for collision with the hard object as their force sent him hurling into the door. Much to his surprise, the door was soft, almost non-existent. He continued through the door, feeling only the slight sensation of moving through soft sponge. The resistance stopped as he passed through the door, tumbling onto the floor of the cell. He got up to face the door, putting his hand on it. It was hard! It felt like it had substance, just like any other door. I guess the Academy boys were right about their superior technology, he mused, almost forgetting his situation. During the entire war, he'd never been shot down, scoring himself among one of the top aces in Space Command. He remembered his training on how to behave as a prisoner of war. The "Code of Conduct" as it was referred to, was handed down from generations of fighting men and women, and basically stated that you shouldn't give out any information other than your identity, and try to escape wherever possible. Trouble was, he really never thought about being a prisoner of war. He never thought it would happen to him, just some other guys. Well, here he was. Where was the angle in all this, anyway? He began to survey the room itself. It was a gray cube, with a shelf in the corner along one side of the wall. There was a panel on the opposite side of the shelf, presumably, some sort of communications circuit to whomever the jailer was.

Just then, the Romulan speaker entered through the door.

"Neat trick," Fairfeild commented, almost truthfully.

The Romulan had a cube in his hand, it was green translucent thing, with several tines protruding from one end. He plugged it into the communications console.

"Watch this image," he commanded.

Captain Sokar, as the speaker had introduced himself , showed him the recording. He pushed a button on the panel and the room was filled with the image of his starfighter tumbling through space. Fairfeild watched the recording of his vessel's destruction from his cell. This was all a show, he thought. There was more than meets the eye.

"You see the extent of our capabilities," Sokar threatened.

"I see it, but I don't get it. Why are you keeping me here? Why didn't you kill me?"

"We can kill you whenever we want."

"But you haven't yet."

"What are humans doing in the sector?"

"What sector? I don't even know where I am, remember?"

The Romulan looked at him for a moment. There was a slight change in his expression. It was almost completely unnoticeable. They'd be pretty good at poker, Fairfeild thought to himself. It was clear that he had the Romulan at a disadvantage. Something was definitely wrong here. It all suddenly became clear. The Romulans thought that they were in Earth territory, or at least somewhere in the neutral zone, anyway. That's why they'd been so curious to begin with. They must think that the Exeter is somewhere in the area, and that I was lying when I told them that I'd lost contact with them. That would be serious trouble if they ventured inside of Earth territory, even if it was unintentional.

Fairfeild saw his chance. The Romulans never did anything without a reason, a purpose. Now, it was he who had the advantage, "You don't know where you are, either, do you?"

Sokar raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I've been trying to figure out why I'm still alive. Most of the time, you just murder, then ask questions later. This time, you need me, don't you? You didn't destroy the Exeter, you lost it, didn't you?"

"We destroyed it, and we can destroy you, too!"

"If you were going to, you would've done it by now. Rumor has it no human has ever see the inside of Romulan vessel. I'm the first. I'll bet you got caught up in this mess, too. You destroyed the ship so no one would know that I'm here!"

"We are on route back to Romulus."

"At least you think you are, but there's no frame of reference to go by. You're instruments were just as scrambled as mine were. You're shooting in the dark!"

"We have a bearing, and our course is set for the home world. You shall be brought to trial to answer for your violation of our territory"

"But you don't know what you're going through to get here. I'm a bargaining chip for your safety, even if we are somewhere in the neutral zone."

***

Schmidt was trying to get a fix on their current location, in relationship to the point of origin. It was a routine task, but it accompanied the ship's log, so someone had a general idea where they'd been. That's when it happened. There was a slight jump in the navigational equipment, like something was trying to reset it.

The ship lurched to one side, as Schmidt tried to correct for it.

"Status report, Mr. Schmidt!" Szylnick ordered.

"Something's interfaced with the navigational controls!"

"Explain."

"We're no longer in control of the ship. Something else is."

Szylnick ran to his station, looking through the viewer to see where the trouble was coming from.
 

"We're moving away from the vessel," Schmidt reported.

"Correct for it," replied Szylnick.

"Engaging manual override, now. Still no response."

"Commander," communications officer Rodgers reported, "There's a signal coming from outside the ship. I think that's what the computer is responding to. The carrier frequency is set to the same as the nav frequencies."

"Can we reset the nav frequencies to compensate?" Szylnick asked.

"I'll try, sir."

"Helm, where are we?"

"Still moving away from the vessel, sir."

"Engineering, this is Commander Szylnick, "Execute emergency shut down on all engines."

"Acknowledged."

The ship was just out of sight of the vessel, moving forward into deep space.

Schmidt looked up to see April enter the bridge, "Captain on the bridge!" he called.

Not a moment too soon, thought Szylnick.

"Status report, Commander."

"Something has taken control of the ship. We're moving away from the vessel."

"Uh-oh..." muttered Schmidt.

"Lieutenant?" asked April.

"We're engaging warp engines!" Schmidt clarified.

"Sir, we've initiated an emergency shut down of the engines."

"Got it, sir. Attempting navigational frequency switch...now! That should do it."

The warp engines hummed to full power, catapulting the ship forward on its new heading.

"We've lost contact with the vessel." Rodgers reported.

"Jarvis!" exclaimed April.

"Transport! This is the captain. We need a lock on Commander Jarvis now!"

"Sorry sir, we're out of range."

"Shit!" exclaimed April.

***

The machinery was a giant puzzle to Jarvis. An entire room full of equipment like this had to have some purpose. Surprisingly enough, many of the components seemed to mirror the current technology that was present aboard the Exeter. He found power couplings, and some energy converters that looked similar. A lot of the power requirements matched that of current Space Command technology. He found that interesting.

A hum started up in the room, really low in pitch to start with. Jarvis barely noticed it at first. Then a shock hit him from one of the wires. He grabbed his tricorder and began taking readings. This is incredible, he thought, something just triggered this thing off. He signaled back to the ship.

"Jarvis to Exeter, come in."

No answer. He tried it again.

"Exeter, come in, please. This is Commander Jarvis, over..."

He tried fiddling with the fine tuning knob on the communicator. Still there was nothing. The hum was almost deafening now. The whole ensemble was now running, except for the parts that were removed for inspection. He'd dismantled the transport circuitry to get a better handle on its function in the group. The machines executed their tasks, one by one. Each took its turn, until it was time for the transport circuit. He'd removed one of the energy filters for a closer examination. This made the whole circuit unstable. Feedback developed in the buffers, where there was no filter to screen out the stellar noise. Jarvis saw what was happening and dove into the corridor. The circuit could no longer handle the overload from the raw power and exploded, which caused a chain reaction throughout the system. Each machine grew unstable and exploded as well, sending pieces of machinery flying out in all directions of the room, including out into the hallway. Jarvis kept running down the corridor to get away from the blast debris. The whole system collapsed on itself, until the corridor lights began to fade, dim, then go out. The darkness consumed him as he sat in the middle of the corridor, completely blind, with no frame of reference. And no ship. He searched for his tricorder, realizing that he'd left it behind when the blast occurred. Now there was nothing he could do. it was already starting to get cold. This signaled to him that all power systems were off line, including life support. What a way to die, he thought.

***

"Shutdown commencing in thirty seconds..." engineering reported.

"Whoa," Schmidt vocalized, trying to compensate for the loss of control, "Wait a minute...I have the helm, captain. We're back under control."

"Good, reverse course, stay in warp," responded April.

"Do you have a piece of that signal?" Giraud asked.

"Everything in the nav is stored for twenty four hours in a buffer. I'll download it to your station," explained Rodgers.

"Theory, commander?" April asked.

"Possibly. I want to look at the method which it was sent."

"It's on its way," affirmed Rogers.

***

The Romulan interrogation machine was quick and painful for the one being interrogated. To Fairfeild, it was only a deep throbbing headache, as the memory of his last few hours were literally sucked from his brain. The experience left him drained. The interrogator pulled a cube out of the machine, handing to another guard, who left the room with it.

"We now have everything we need from you," said the interrogator.

"That's nice," Fairfeild responded, "Got any aspirin?"

The interrogator pushed a sequence of buttons on the comm panel. A few seconds later, several pills appeared in the opening where food was normally distributed. He handed them to Fairfield before leaving the room.

"I'll be damned..." he muttered, staring down at what the Romulan had just given him. There was a long, silent period where he was alone with his thoughts. Now they had what they needed, they wouldn't be keeping him around long. And where did they find out about aspirin, anyway?

He didn't have time to finish his thoughts. A group of Romulans grabbed him, taking him out of the room. They pushed him into what looked like a pod. There was barely enough room for him to sit down, and the wall seemed to close in on him. They shut the hatch, and he could hear them sealing it. There was one window, looking straight out where he could see the outline of a planet. The horizon looked a blue-green color, fading into gray as the atmosphere waned into space.

The warbird swept closer to the planet, a yellow ring outlining the outer hull as the friction of the planet's atmosphere took effect. The ship's pylons were long, and curved, so they could sustain inter-atmospheric operations. It actually became the bird it attempted to represent. It was flying, now over hills and valleys, casting a shadow across the countryside as it swooped along.

Fairfeild felt the effect of full-G acceleration, slamming him back against the seat, if that's what it was. The pod tumbled, end-over-end as it traveled toward the surface. He could now feel the gravitational effects of the planet.

The jolt of landing pushed him forward, although the harness they'd strapped him in kept him from slamming head-first into the window. The pod bounced, then began to roll. It was like the old centrifuge at pilot training. He was spinning, end over end, around and around. The old familiar nausea was back, just like the old days. The rolling stopped just as abruptly as it had began, ending with a loud crunch. He hung, upside down for a moment while his brain tried to stabilize itself after being shook up. He spotted the hatch valve. The harness came off easier then he expected. They weren't so much different from us after all, he thought. The harness gave way, causing him to fall forward, onto the hatch valve. He pulled the handle in one direction, then the other. It turned the second time, causing the seal to hiss as the pressure inside the pod equaled the outside air pressure. He pushed it open, breathing in the fresh smell of the outside. The ground was soft, as if it had just rained. There was grass, or something that looked like grass, anyway. The landscape was green, similar to earth, dotted with some kind of trees on the far horizon. The plains stretched out for what appeared to be miles, with only slight, rolling foothills. He could see the furrow that was dug by the pod as it had tumbled across the ground. he heard what sounded like a rocket engine in the distance. Looking up, he could see the silhouette of the warbird, climbing up into the sky, spaceward. Good riddance, he thought to himself. He started out across the plains, in search of some sign of civilization. If the planet was uninhabited, he would know in a few hours. It would be a long walk.
 

Darkness. Nothing but darkness, alone with his own thoughts. The corridor was just above freezing now, he guessed. Jarvis was totally helpless. He sat in what he thought was the middle of the corridor. He remembered a ski trip on Rigel some years ago, the temperature sparking memories. The worst part of all this, was he didn't know if he was still alive. The fires had burned out quickly, so there was no way of getting back to where he'd been. Still, he felt the need to do something, whatever that something was. He estimated that he'd been sitting there over an hour. His butt was getting sore, sitting on the hard ground.

Something jolted the floor. He felt the vessel turn, slightly. Or he was going crazy from being in the dark. There was another jolt, this time not as hard. Machinery started up again, bringing the lights up to a dim glow. Power was coming in from somewhere. He could see he was now facing up the corridor from where he'd been. He got off the floor, stretching a bit to get the cramps out which had developed from being on the floor, and started back for his instruments.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere, stepping through thin air. It wasn't like the transport mechanism, more like a dimensional shift. One minute they weren't there, and the next they were. There stood three beings. They were slightly humanoid, but they were tall and thin. Their hands were disproportionate from their bodies. Their heads were slightly oval, with large elliptical eyes. They seemed to stare at him.

You aren't supposed to be here. What are you?

Jarvis never heard them speak, but there was a foreign voice in his head. Thoughts that didn't belong to him.

You are from another world. Not Nimorak...some other place. You can speak to us in your normal way, we will understand.

"I...I..uh," he felt a little awkward speaking to someone or something that didn't speak back. Like talking to a desk or a hologram, "I'm Lieutenant Commander Jarvis of the battleship Exeter. I've been stranded here."

We know of your ship. It has been moved away from here. You must come with us now. We can provide for your comfort and shelter.

Jarvis knew he had no real choice, so he agreed to come with them. One of them held out his hand, and they stepped off the vessel, into another ship.

The new ship was dimly lit, without many lights or visible controls. There was an image of the vessel on their screen, which was somewhat similar to the main viewer on board Exeter, but possessing an irregular shape. There was a minimal crew, only two or three beings in the room they were occupying. One of them nodded to another, and the vessel disappeared, replaced by a planetscape, which grew nearer as they approached.

"How did you do that?" he asked one of them.

There are too many questions to be answered at once. All of your answers will come soon. Please be patient.

***

"Captain, we have the vessel in sight," reported Schmidt.

"Synchronize movement with the vessel, Mr. Schmidt. Giraud,

you're with me. Slick, you have the bridge."

***

The landing party stepped through the landing tube into the room where they had originally found the equipment. There was nothing but burned wreckage all over the room. They searched through the rubble to see if Jarvis was there, but there was no sign of him.

"Captain, over here!" Giraud called, "I found his tricorder."

April moved of towards her, "Does it work?"

"It seems to have power," she opened the top of the unit. There was still a disk in the player slot. She played it back, looking at his findings.

"This is extraordinary," she said, "This station's primary purpose was for transport. The field emitters are the same type used in the transport unit. And this reading, here indicates the temporal shifts we were experiencing last time. I did some checking into our encounter with the Romulan, and the shifts match in both duration and frequency. Whatever that field was, it was generated here. The transport must move large ships to and from the area, but only within a certain distance of this vessel."

"But what purpose would that serve?"

"Maybe keeping someone away from somewhere."

"You are paranoid, aren't you?"

April's communicator beeped, and he took it out to answer, opening the heavy lid," April here."

It was Szylnick, reporting, "Sir, we've pinpointed the source of that signal we intercepted earlier. It came from the fourth planet in that system we were sent here to investigate."

"How about that."

"It was the third planet we were sent to investigate," Giraud reminded him.

"So, I guess it's the people on the fourth planet who don't want us to visit. I guess paranoia does have its rewards, eh Mr. Giraud?" he pushed the button to clear the channel on his communicator. They re-enterd the boarding tube back toward the Exeter.

***

They returned to the bridge, and took their respective stations. April sat in the command chair, letting out an anguished sigh, "Mr. Schmidt, set a course for the fourth planet. Warp speed."

"Aye, sir."

"You have an idea?" Szylnick asked.

"Call it a hunch," he replied, "The fourth planet sent that signal to divert us. It would stand to reason that they destroyed the equipment and took Jarvis with them. They're hiding something, and I'd like to know what that something is."

***

Jarvis was seated in a chair while a variety of the beings milled around him.

You must focus one thought. We cannot read this many at once. Please clear your mind.

"I'm trying to, there's a lot of unanswered questions. OK, first, where am I?"

This world is called Etheria.

That was easy, he thought.

We do not understand.

"Nothing, that was for myself. Why have you brought me here?"

The object on which you were found could no longer sustain any life. We brought you here so you may survive.

"If you have the technology to move that quickly, you have the ability to send me back to my ship."

This would cause us to be found. We do not wish to be found. We have hidden ourselves for many of your years. Not many in the galaxy know of our existence.

"That's what you were transporting with the vessel."

That is correct. The object upon which you were found is known in our terms as a riat. This relocates any object which may be approaching our home worlds. It is a quick procedure, allowing the subject to find themselves somewhere else in space. They would then attempt to reorient themselves in space, diverting all attention away from our worlds.

"But it didn't work."

The transfer was successful, but not with your vessel. A vessel was transferred, according to our measurements, but yours was not the one.

"So, why all the secrecy? Why don't you want anyone to find you?"

We do not wish interaction with others. We do not want conflict.

"But you brought me here. What will you do with me?"

You will be sent to the institute, for further study.

"Study?!"

You conform to all the characteristics of another race we once studied, long ago. We want to know more about you.
 

"My lord, we've readjusted our instruments to detect the temporal fields we encountered earlier," the Centurion reported.

"Excellent," Sokar replied, "When you detect one, destroy it."

"We're scanning now, My Lord. We detected one several kazars to our starboard side."

"Lock on and fire at will."

The warbird swept into the range of the vessel, emitting an energy pulse. The pulse drifted toward the vessel, shattering it upon impact.

Sokar looked through the forward window of his warbird, satisfied with what had been done. The wreckage spread outward into space before disappearing from view. He turned to face his crew.

"Find them, destroy them all."

The ship lurched hard to the left.

"Centurion, report!"

"The ship has assumed a new course heading, away from here!"

"My Lord, we have intercepted a navigational instruction from some outside source!"

"Can we locate it?"

"We are attempting," the communications operator explained, adjusting the controls, "Located, sir. The fourth planet in the system."

"Can we break free?"

"No, My Lord. We are experiencing a complete lack of control."

"Rig for stellar operations and power down the engines," commander Sokar. Whoever did this would pay dearly for their indiscretion, he thought, no one can withstand the wrath of the Romulan Empire!

Rigging for stellar winds consisted of a mast, which extended from the center of the hull. The sail extended downward, on both sides to the edge of the nacelles. The stellar winds pulled the ship forward as they drifted through space.

"Stellar rigging complete," the Centurion reported.

"Good, proceed on new course, to the fourth planet. We'll lay them to waste for this!"

The ship turned about, tacking the wind while maneuvering rockets pushed them in the direction they wished to go.

"Keep following the signal," Sokar ordered.

***

"Approaching the fourth planet now, captain," Schmidt reported.

"Standard orbit, Mr. Schmidt. Slick, get a patrol out, I want an image of the surface before we go down."

"Aye, sir."

***

Lieutenant Lasker was glad to be back in a cockpit again. This time, he was the patrol leader. The starfighters were all prepped, facing the front of the flight deck. The hangar chief marshaled them into position before leaving the deck. The two starfighters' engines were now up to half power while the magnetic element in the deck held them fast. The bay doors opened up, slowly revealing the planetary surface as the Exeter orbited. The doors opened completely.

"Control to freedom one, launch when ready," the controller acknowledged.

Lasker looked over at his wingman, nodding. He pulled the lever down on the ship while pulling back on the stick. The fighter left the ship, arcing downward toward the planet. He checked his three o'clock position, still know by this arcane term by means of tradition, and saw that his wingman was still there. The planet spread out before them as they entered its atmosphere.

"I'm picking up large energy readings," Ensign Charles Marshall, the wingman reported.

"I've got 'em," Lasker replied.

The two ships descended to where they could see the source of the power. It was a city, spreading out for several miles, in all directions. Tall buildings dotted the horizon, and the power seemed to be all around them. In the distance, a large set of dish antennae were arranged in a circular pattern. As they got closer, they could see that the collectors were surrounding a very large building which was directly in the center of the pattern.

"Are we recording this?" Lasker asked.

"Direct feed, sir."

"Exeter are you receiving all this?"

"Affirmative," Szylnick answered from his console.

"Let's have it on screen," said April.

They were amazed at what they saw. Buildings and signs of prosperity were everywhere.

The starfighters' power indicators showed a severe power loss as they passed over the array of collectors.

"Electrical failure! I have an electrical failure!" Marshall shouted.

The signal was so weak that Lasker could barely interpret it. He was also experiencing a severe electrical power failure. He looked over at Marshall thought the canopy, pointing up. Marshall returned the thumbs up signal, and they climbed back up towards Exeter.

***

"We've lost the link to the patrol, " Szylnick reported, "They're experiencing some sort of electrical malfunction."

Giraud began scanning the area, using data relayed from the fighters.

"Sir, I've got signs of human life down there. There are other life forms, unclassified as yet, but I am definitely picking up four human life signs."

"What are their coordinates?" Aprils asked.

"I'm still trying to pinpoint them."

"Let's call the patrol back. Ready a shuttle. We need to locate that human life we're reading," April ordered.

The fighters were moving away from the town, the buildings were getting farther apart, and not as tall as before. Vegetation took over where once was concrete. They were on their way upward now, the ground shrinking away fast. As quick as the power had faded, it was now back up to normal levels again.

A disk appeared out of the clouds, directly in front of them.

"Evasive action!" yelled Lasker, pulling back on the stick.

The disk emitted a dull-looking beam of light from its underbelly, sweeping the area around the fighters.

***

"My lord, we have arrived at the fourth planet," the Centurion reported.

"De-rig the stellar mechanisms. Prepare for atmospheric operations! Do we have the source of the signal?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Excellent, begin the attack!"

***

Klaxons rang out all over the Exeter as the Romulans came into view.

"Well look whose back," Szylnick commented from the command chair.

"Sir, the shuttle has already entered the atmosphere!" Schmidt exclaimed.

"Where's my patrol?"

"We're linked through flight control. We can communicate to them directly now, sir," Rodgers explained.

"This is Commander Szylnick. Status report!"

"Commander, we're kinda tied up right now," Lasker replied. He was still trying to avoid the disk which seemed intent on stopping them.

"Specify the problem."

"There's some sort of object blocking our path. We're taking evasive action."

"Put the grid on the screen," Szylnick ordered, speaking to his communications officer.

The grid appeared, but there was no indication of the patrol's location anywhere on it.

"It appears that someone or something is masking their transponder signal," Schmidt remarked.

"Flight control! Find that patrol, somehow!"

"Aye, sir. We'll contact you as soon as they're back on our scope," answered the senior controller.

"We need to cover the captain. He's on his way down in a shuttle. Romulans are here, I don't think we can ward them off."

"The Romulans are entering the atmosphere," reported Schmidt.

Oh shit...thought Szylnick, trying to find a way of the box they were in.

***

Lasker didn't see it at first, just off the port side. Ominous as ever, the Romulan warbird cut an imposing figure, sweeping through the atmosphere like the great bird it sought to imitate. The disk was still trying to grab onto the starfighter patrol, unaware of the warbird.

The Romulan fired disruptors at the disk, causing it to turn sideways. The Romulan did not relent, continuing to pound the disk with as much firepower as it could.

***

Lasker didn't wait to see the final outcome, diving for the ground as fast as he could without burning up in the atmosphere. His wingman followed, their velocity causing the shielding on the front of the craft to glow bright white, then red.

***

The disk didn't have a chance against the Romulan assault. It split down the middle, before crashing to the ground in a giant fireball, directly into the cityscape. The blast leveled towers and fire spread throughout the area where it had crashed.

***

The shuttle lurched sideways.

"What the ..." April strained to look out the front window of the shuttle. He saw the fire, spreading along the ground. It was all consuming. Then he saw what the cause of all this was. The Romulan, swooping down on the city, its painted bird of prey visible to all on the ground who would survive to see it.

"I don't believe this!" he exclaimed, maneuvering the shuttle away from the area.

The starfighters rushed to the side of the shuttle, covering both sides. Each of the pilots arming their weapons, ready for a confrontation.

"We're right behind you, Captain," Lasker told him, "Where are we going?"

"I'm still going down, up looks too dangerous."

***

More disks appeared, covering all sides of the Romulan aggressor. The Romulan was surrounded. It began attacking the two in front, in the same manner as before. The disks from the rear emitted the dull-colored beams, again reaching out toward the Romulan.

"Engage star drive!" shouted Sokar, becoming agitated with the situation.

***

The ship's engine nacelles glowed orange as the ship put forth a magnetic pulse, associated with their propulsion system. The disks closed in, their beams focusing on the point of interest. The Romulan was suspended in midair, unable to break free of the grip the disks held on it.

"Full power to drive!" barked Sokar.

"Engines are at supercritical!" reported the Centurion.

"All thrusters, downward! Full speed, aim for the source of the signal we received earlier!" Sokar exclaimed, it is for the glory of the Empire I do this thing! he thought. It was in preparation for his impending death. He pushed a sequence of touchpads on his seat, noting that the red light had lit, indicating successful transmission.

***

"Sir, we've intercepted a signal from the Romulan vessel," Rodgers called from his station, "It's a high-speed squirt. I can't translate, but it seems to be heading off toward the neutral zone."

"That's the swan song, Lieutenant. They do that right before--Oh shit! The Captain! Where is he, control?"

"We've got him and freedom one moving toward the northmost hemisphere, away from the Romulan," Schmidt replied.

"They're going to dive!" someone said during all the confusion.

"Full magnification!" Szylnick ordered.

The Romulan arced from its glide position, still being held in a grip from the two disks. Bright red flames from the thrusters shot out the rear of the ship as it struggled to move sideways. The struggle was taking its toll on the disks, which were also changing to a soft red. They began the descent with the Romulan, pulled by their own beams. The warbird began to look like a phoenix, glowing bright yellow as the warp core began its breach. The nacelles were giant roman candles, now. The entire ship was aflame as it thundered towards the surface. The disks broke it off, letting the ship fall.
 

Sokar was rigid as he braced for the final impact. Out the window, the target was directly ahead. The control room would be the first to hit, fitting for a warrior in command, he thought. He didn't notice that he was moving through his command chair. The ship was nearing the target, which was now in full view in the window. He passed through the chair, noticing that he couldn't move anymore. Then he passed through the doorway, gaining momentum as he passed through corridors, quarters, and finally the engineering section and the thruster engines themselves! This must be the next level, he mused as he was pulled out of the ship. He felt that he was rising above it all. The ship continued downward. Upon impact the stellar drive's core breach acted as a nuclear weapon. The city was consumed in a fireball, the blast shock spreading out for miles while the intense heat swept away everything in its path.

***

"Screen off!" Szylnick ordered.

The screen went black just before the impact. On the planetscape, the explosion was so bright that it could be seen from space. The transparent aluminum window which also was the main screen allowed the crew to see the blast from space. As the smoke began to clear, the city was vaporized. There was only the burning wreckage of the Romulan, and wasteland.

***

Sokar was impressed as he continued to rise. Then he passed into another ship. Now, he was slowing down, finally coming to a stop in a chair. It was similar to the one he'd just left. Several beings approached him, filling his mind.

I don't think we've ever seen a more violent race than yours. This was thought to be impossible. You have sacrificed all of those whom serve you simply for the purpose of superior firepower. This is most interesting.

"There will be more of us. This fight isn't over, yet!" Sokar sneered.

We can deal with them sufficiently, as we did you.

***

Giraud had been monitoring the explosion, rechecking her instruments, not quite believing what had just happened. She re-focused, and got the same readings.

"This is impossible," she commented.

"What's that," April asked, still trying to bring the shuttle down to the surface.

"At the instant of the explosion, there was another temporal shift."

"Probably electromagnetic pulse from the explosion," April suspected, "They can play hell on your instruments."

"I'm familiar with EMP, and the readings don't support this kind of a malfunction. The city simply wasn't there at the instant that ship hit. These instruments aren't powerful enough to pinpoint the source and what the amount of the shift was, but there is a slight shift in the chronometer reading"

"Let me see," he said bringing the shuttle about. The chronometer was now approximately one minute off from the time they'd left the ship, "Freedom, give me an area which isn't hot where we can set down."

The shuttle and fighter escort veered off in the direction of where the city once was. All that was left was a crater, and the debris of the Romulan. They settled onto the planet surface. The ground was barren, dry and uneven. Giraud began scanning with her tricorder. April gazed off at the still-flaming wreckage of the warbird. Pillars of smoke rose up into the sky. There didn't appear to be any mountains, just flat, barren wasteland spreading out for miles.

Giraud seemed puzzled as she pointed the scanner from her tricorder in every different direction. Finally, she knelt down and picked up a handful of dirt, examining it by hand. April noticed her digging in the dirt.

"Found something?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. This soil doesn't appear to have any outward appearance of being scorched by a blast of that magnitude. Nothing indicates that anything here actually crashed."

"That's odd, all right."

"There's more. This soil doesn't even seem as if it was ever even built on, much less supported a city. There are no traces of any concrete, metal, plastic or anything else other than the elements natural to this soil."

"Is it possible that the city was vaporized?"

"If it were, we wouldn't be able to stand here."

The two fighters began their descent from the distance, slowing as the landing pads touched the ground. They taxied within several feet of the shuttle before shutting down. As the canopy flipped open, Lasker called to the two.

"Captain! You should see the readings I was getting when we made our pass over the crash site, it's incredible!"

Giraud turned her head from the soil sample she'd been studying.

Lasker was waving a disk, "I recorded the last two passes we made."

He handed her the disk, and she put it into the tricorder. She tilted the monitor outward so everyone could see it. The image displayed was that of the wreck, still flaming as the lubricants, coolants and propellants all continued igniting. It was far in the distance first, as the camera began angling directly toward the debris. The image got closer until only a portion of it could be seen in the monitor."

"Watch the rad indicator reading, bottom left," he continued.

The scene moved around the perimeter of the wreckage, then straight through the center. Pieces of structure appeared to reach out to the camera, and pass in an instant. The rad display, as noted in the lower left corner of the picture, didn't move. The icon needle settled on zero, never wavering."

"There, that's the freakiest thing I've seen. They should be way hotter than that the way it was coming in!"

April stroked his chin, contemplating the information. Romulans were radioactive nightmares, if anything. Intelligence had always told them that the radiation tolerance of the romulan physiology was much stronger than that of a human. Once defeating a warbird in battle, correct rules of engagement were a full speed retreat before the reactors went supercritical. This wasn't making a lot of sense.

"Maybe there's some sort of phenomenon keeping our instruments from reading properly, " he opened his communicator, "April to Exeter, come in."

"Exeter here, go ahead captain." Szylnick answered

"Give me a level three scan of the crash site and our relative position. Look for high rad counts."

"Stand by,"

It stood to reason that something was interfering with their instrumentation. However, the chances of all the equipment malfuctioning at the same time seemed rather unlikely. Still, it would benefit to check for all possibilities.

"Captain! Another large temporal shift registering on my tricorder," Giraud called.

The Exeter returned with the answer, "Sir, our instruments are showing a zero rad count in both areas."

"Unusual, don't you think?" April replied.

Everyone on the ground was hit with the dizzying feeling of disorientation as the ground and the sky became confused, resulting in nausea. Then a disk appeared out of nowhere. This time, there was no time to react. Lasker looked up to find that they were no longer on the planet surface, or at least not where they were moments before. The room was full of tall thin beings.

***

"Landing party, acknowledge," Szylnick repeated.

"No human life forms are registering. It's like they've been swept away from the planet surface." reported Schmidt.

"Just keep scanning. Keep me posted."

Szylnick leaned back in the seat, pounding his hand slowly on the arm of the command chair. Check and mate, he thought to himself. The Romulans were probably mounting a full-scale assault on the place now. One battleship couldn't stave off an attack like that.

"Send a subspace message to Space Command Headquarters," he began, the option weighing heavily on his shoulders, "We've encountered hostile Romulan activity. Landing party has been attacked."
 

Fairfield noticed that the edge of the town was somewhat similar to that of earth. There were signs of intelligent life here. He'd found a strip of blacktop road which he'd been following for a few miles. It had been empty, but it led into the village. It had been used, because there was no vegetation growing up through the surface from lack of maintenance. He remembered a patch of unused interstate in a field not far from his house. The grass would grow through the cracks in the asphalt surface, obliterating the yellow and white markings. Occasionally, one of the few road signs that were still left intact made worthy mile markers during the times when he would walk down the abandoned roadway. This road brought back many memories of his youth. Most of the surface had deteriorated, but this one looked in great shape, as if it were still being maintained. He saw buildings in the distance, also like earth, but more so of old earth, before the great wars of propriety. They looked to be dwellings, built by humans. As he got closer, he saw beings out and about, going through their normal routine. Humans! he thought. The shapes, manners and habits were the same. But they weren't human, were they?

"Hello there! A bit dangerous walking the road like that, isn't it?" a voice called to him.

For a moment, he thought he had been dropped on earth.

"Yeah, I guess. I've...uh, been traveling a while. Where is this."

"You're in New Stanton, son," the voice belonged to an elder gentleman, somewhere in his mid-fifties, Fairfeild estimated.

This is really spooky, he thought. He asked the man where there was a good place to stay.

"Keep following the road, farther down into town. There's hotel there. They usually have room," the man answered.

Fairfeild followed the directions the old man gave him, and found the hotel. Fortunately they had room. He didn't have the pay up front, either, which was nice considering he didn't have any of the local currency. That would be the next problem. He made his way to his room, searching for his communicator once he was inside. In all their paranoia to find out where they were, the Romulans never took his communicator. Maybe they thought they did destroy his ship, who knows? He took it out, noting the cover was slightly bent. He worked the hinge. At least it was still connected. He hit the transmit button, but the device didn't respond. He checked the power, and that seemed to be all right, then he opened the back of the unit. He found a loose wire which supplied power to the board itself. He pushed it back in place, then reactivated the unit. It chattered responsively, letting him know everything was normal.

"Fairfeild to Exeter, Fairfeild to Exeter, Come in., please," he began. He waited a few minutes, listening to the suppressed hiss of background noise generated by the overhead lights.

***

"Sir, I'm receiving a signal. It's just barely in range. It sounds like a communicator signal," said Rodgers, "I can fine tune it, but it's really weak."

"On audio," Szylnick replied.

"....Fairfield....Exeter...explorer one survivor...Romulans...third planet..." the message went.

"Can we clean that up at all?" Szylnick asked.

"That's the best we have. I have located the source of origin. Its the third planet in this system."

"Excellent work, Mr. Rodgers, download the coordinates to the helm. Mr. Schmidt, stand by with a course to the third planet."

"Aye, sir standing by."

***

Tad's job was boring, but it paid well. He looked at screens al day, searching for signs of the Visitors, as they were called. No one had ever seen one, but it was understood that they posed a great threat to the existence of human kind. That was what this room was set up for. The control room consisted of many different cubicles, each with someone monitoring the various modes of communication originating from their part of the planet. That's why when the one thing he'd been trained to spot appeared, he found it hard to believe. He pressed a button to localize the signal, but then it was gone. He recorded it into the log and called his supervisor. This was the second time such an occurrence had happened in one day. It couldn't be a mistake this time.

***

I assure you, we mean you no harm. Everything has been upset so today, anyway. Perhaps we ought to start from the beginning.

"First of all, who are you?" April asked.

We call ourselves Etherians. This is our home world, Etheria. We have brought you here to keep you out of danger. The radiation levels are too high to sustain life.

"We got a weird reading," Giraud began, "We came back to verify it."

You are correct to observe that our city has gone. We suffered only minimal damage from the attack. The city has moved out of time, temporarily. It shall return shortly.

"That still doesn't answer why you've grabbed us!" Lasker demanded.

However it is I that should be asking you why you are here.

"We followed a signal which originated here," April explained,

"We tracked it from a buoy we encountered".

We do not normally tolerate outside interference. Such is the purpose of the riat. It keeps intruders from discovering us. In most cases, the target does not know of the time shift. We do not wish interaction with other beings. That is why all these things have happened to you.

"It's normal for our species to investigate an incident when something unusual occurs," Giraud tried to explain, "We've lost a few people on this mission so far."

We have extensive knowledge on humans and their behavior. We simply took you so you wouldn't come to any harm. We will now return you to your ship.

Before any of them knew what had happened, they and their three ships were back on board the flight deck of the Exeter.

"It appears they really don't want any contact," Giraud commented.

"Let's get to the bridge," April grumbled.

***

A few minutes later, Giraud had been able to go over the data collected from the past few hours. Meanwhile, the ship was now on route to the third planet, in search of Commander Fairfeild.

"Captain, I think you should see this," Giraud called, noting something unusual.

April went to the science station. On the screen were recorded images from the events of the last two hours, superimposed over a graph.

She began her explanation, "There is a massive temporal shift at time index zero zero eighteen. Look, that's about the time the Romulan hits the city. Time index zero zero twenty is where the city disappears. Look at the disturbance here," she pointed to the chart.

"Why would there be such a large temporal disturbance caused by the crash of a ship?"

"Sir, I don't think is was the crash. I think it was the city's disappearance. The evidence would indicate the city was moved somewhere else in time."

"That would be a significant achievement by our standards."

"Sir, if I may," Szylnick interjected, walking toward the two, "These people are capable of anything. We've seen that. My suggestion is that we log our findings and get the hell out of here before they destroy the ship. If they could sustain a Romulan attack, then they can withstand any actions we take."

"Our mission is a peaceful one, Slick."

"I know, sir. But we've already lost two crew members."

Schmidt announced their arrival at the third planet.

"Begin scanning for that communicator signal," April responded.

"Aye, sir."
 

"Damn!" Szylnick shouted, "Sir, we lost the signal."

"Do we have the coordinates?" April asked.

"Yes, sir."

"We'll transport there and begin a search. Assemble a team."

The scanner alarm sounded. Szylnick looked back into the viewer. Sir, something is scanning us."

"Then they know we're here. Get going, I want to start the search immediately."

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Giraud asked.

April couldn't really answer the question, but if there was a chance of saving one of the crew, he had to try, "We don't," he replied.

***

Emil Feldenberger was an old hand at the PDMS. The system, which was hardly ever used was still maintained, still kept ready for any immediate use. He was the old man of the organization, filling the post towards the tail end of the breakaway conflict. He was a tall, thin man who carried his age like a badge of honor, wearing it proudly, distinguished. The alarm had been sounded, and now he felt as if he was again a young soldier, fighting in defense of his planet as he set the controls for the unidentified blip which had entered their sky. The visitors wouldn't last the hour, he thought as the settings were laid in. I have you now you little green bastards!

***

Captain April had just sat down when Schmidt reported a lock on the ship.

"Location, Mr. Schmidt."

"Still trying to lock it down...We have a missile in the air, captain. Heading directly at us!"

"Lasers!"

"Powered and ready!" Szylnick reported as he adjusted the controls.

"Lock on and fire!"

Exeter's lasers found their target, exploding the missile deep within the planetary atmosphere.

***

So, Emil thought, this is a new tactic for you. Well, I'm ready for you. He turned a few more knobs and pulled a lever which launched another missile.

"Here comes another one!" Schmidt reported.

"Have we got a fix on the point of origin?" April asked.

"Just got it, sir."

"Slick, use those coordinates and shut that thing down."

"Aye, sir," Szylnick began entering coordinates into the fire control panel. The first laser burst destroyed the fourth missile in much the same way as the first one. The next burst focused in on the missile's launch site.

***

Emil ran to the other side of the room and pulled another lever which loaded another missile into the launch silo. He ran back to his screen to realign the crosshairs. The ship didn't look much like the old ones he used to fight, he thought as he fed the new coordinates to the fire control system. Still, this was probably a new design, which was faster.

He never saw it coming. The blast reached down into the ground, ripping the concrete and metal silo area and causing the missile waiting on the pad to explode. Emil fell over the swivel chair as he tried to take his seat. His world moved from left to right, first by the initial hit, then by the concurrent explosion from the silo. The sealed door to the silo shuddered from the force of the blast. The floor lifted upward and he was tossed over a console and onto the concrete floor. He felt a crunch as his sixty year old frame was slammed to the floor. The lights went out until the generator kicked in. Then, nothing. All the panel lights on the console were out. They'd really improved their weaponry over the years, he thought as he lay on the floor.

***

"Target has been neutralized," reported Szylnick from the weapons console.

April rose from the command con, "Well, I think it's safe to say that we better use the transportation device. As soon as we're down, leave orbit and come back in about an hour. I don't know how many more of those things are down there."

"Aye, sir" Szylnick replied, taking his seat in the command con as April left the bridge.

April pointed to Giraud and motioned to the door. She got up and followed him out.

The door to the transport bay opened, revealing an imposing sight. The transportation device took up an entire room. They knew that it worked. Even though he'd already used it once, he still hadn't accepted it as a legitimate method of transportation. It was much faster, however, than using a shuttle. Since the pressure was off he could afford to let his anxiety over the transport's methodology build. Now, April thought, he'd be the one stepping into it. The room was quite large, with a transparent chamber off to the left side. A crewman stood ready at the control console, peering into the viewer and fiddling with several of the controls.

"Good afternoon, captain," the crewman said.

"Crewman," replied April, slightly uneasy. For some reason, the shock of just what this machine did began to unsettle him.

"Coordinates are entered, and you can go anytime, sir."

Go? he thought to himself. The chamber was faced on either side by groups of conduits which were angled facing the chamber on both sides. The back of the chamber was a reflective background, probably to focus the energy beam a little better. A pit began to form in his stomach.

Giraud stepped into the chamber, waiting for the captain.

April reluctantly stepped through the chamber bulkhead and closed his eyes.

"On your command, sir," the crewman said.

Giraud looked over, noticing that April's knees were shaking. She smiled to herself. She'd done this once or twice before, it was like riding a bicycle.

"E-energize," April stuttered. He felt as if he'd just given a firing squad the order to shoot while still in front of the prisoner.

The machine started up with a low whine, which increased in pitch. He felt the floor under his feet get hot. A fourth sound, one that was indescribable to him started and he began to feel dizzy. The conduits, it had turned out were the converter coils, which he could now see were emitting a bright light as the chorus of the transport sounds got louder. He was falling, no, floating! There was nothing around him as his sight faded. What have I done! he cried out in his mind. Then as suddenly as it had began, he felt form again and his eyesight returned. He had to scream, now that he felt his mouth again. Then it was over. He was on the surface. He was disoriented, and fell over, still shaking from the ride.

"Is something wrong, captain?" Giraud asked.

"No" April replied curtly.

***

Jarvis found himself in a room, similar to his quarters on Exeter, but the room had some differences, like the bed being on the wrong side. Then there was a Romulan, standing only a few feet away from him. He was facing just opposite him in another cell. It too, had a transparent front.

Sokar was instantly repulsed by the human standing in the other cell. This worthless little creature was one of many who challenged the might of the Empire. The Empire had been so cowardly as to negotiate with these, these things! Here stood one right in front of him. It would be so easy to kill. A quick blow to the neck, just below the base of the skull

Jarvis studied the Romulan looking at him as he stood there. At first, the Romulan looked as if he was deep in concentration, then he fell to the floor of his cell. A beam shot out at him from the ceiling of the cell. This broke the Romulan's concentration. He got up and tried again. Jarvis watched the scene, thinking that this could be some sort of laboratory test set up by their captors. He turned away from the scene. He wondered what they'd do to him. What tests were they devising? Would it be as upsetting to him as what they were doing to the Romulan. He sat down, waiting for whatever fate was to befall him, surprised that he actually felt anything at all for the Romulan in captivity.

***

The rescue team materialized into the room where Fairfield was taken. Giraud began scanning the room for any signals which might indicate where he was. The room was unmade, things were turned over and there was a general unkemptness to the place. April searched under things, looking for any physical evidence.

"Captain!" Giraud called out from the other side of the bed, "Here's his communicator."

She handed the remains of the instrument to the captain. The unit had been crushed by something.

"We lost him again."

"Not necessarily, captain," Giraud explained, "There is a slight physiological difference between the inhabitants of this planet and our own physiological makeup. If we could readjust the scanners aboard the Exeter, we may have a chance at locating him."

"It's worth a try," replied April, "Let's do it."

***

Fairfield was on the run now, he couldn't go back to the hotel. Someone knew of his presence, he just didn't know who. Someone, presumably the authorities of this city, had searched his room while he was out. Whoever they were, they knew he was not from the local area. They may have even detected his signal while he was trying to contact his ship. They had destroyed his communicator and now he had no way of ever contacting the Exeter. He was going to leave this town, assuming there was another one to hide in. He set off for the bus station, but first he'd have to find some local currency. He still had some parts of his communicator, which he cannibalized. He may be able to arrange a transfer by rigging a dummy info card. He'd noticed that there were many automated places to get cash, just like old earth did in the history books. They used an ident card to access the main system. If he could figure out the interface, the ident chip taken from his communicator might work. He found one that he could use as a guinea pig.

***

There was a rumbling of people walking up steps, then a pounding on the door.

"Open up in there!" someone shouted.

April and Giraud looked at each other, then the door. They each drew their lasers and sought cover in a door way or closet.

"Stun setting," whispered April. Then, motioning with his fingers, counted down.

The men outside the room burst into the room, armed with explosive projectile weapons. They began pointing them around the room, anticipating someone shooting at them.

"Now!" shouted April, firing his laser.

They stunned everyone in the room, each dropping their weapons as the fell to the floor.

April shouted into his communicator, "Exeter, get us out of here! Put us outside the building."

Curious, Giraud picked up one of the intruders' weapons.

They disappeared from view, just as the intruders began coming around.

"Ugh," one of them grunted, "What hit us?"

"I don't know, but we'd better call HQ on it, this looks like it's bigger than our team."

Continue to Chapters 16-20

Read more from The Early Years and C.L. Nelson.

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C.L. Nelson The Early Years To Boldly Go, Ch 26-Fin	On Site 2012.08.06
Follow Captain Robert April and the early Starfleet crews!

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