STAR TREK: Enterprise - Shockwave Read online

  Well, now he had screwed up and thirty-six hundred people lost their lives because of it. But even worse was the fact that he had no idea how it had happened. That thought did not sit well with the captain. He knew that his superiors would be even less pleased.

  “Get me Admiral Forrest,” he said to Hoshi before he added his own lighthearted comment meant to cover the seriousness of the moment, though he was fooling no one. “This is not going to be fun.”

  Chapter 3

  “Tetrazine?” Admiral Forrest could scarcely believe what he had just been told—worse, he didn’t entirely understand all the aspects of Archer’s report. Sitting behind his desk at Starfleet headquarters, it was difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact that thousands had died due to the shuttle’s interaction with some substance he had never heard of before.

  “It’s a by-product of their mining operation,” Archer explained in a slow, meticulous manner, seemingly relieved that he could at least account for some part of the events. “It settles between forty-five and fifty kilometers in their atmosphere. Exhaust plasma is about the only thing hot enough to ignite it.”

  Forrest tried to piece together the puzzle with what little facts Archer had provided. Without the full detailed briefing, it was difficult to do, especially considering he [28] was still in a bit of a shock. “But you said your plasma ducts were closed?”

  “Yes, sir,” Archer replied. “We’re doing everything we can to determine what went wrong, but that’s not going to change the fact that there are thirty-six hundred corpses down there.”

  Forrest could tell that Archer’s frustration was quickly giving way to anger, but at the moment he had to focus on the way to properly handle the situation. The interstellar ramifications were too numerous to consider. “Continue to analyze your logs. I’m going to call an emergency meeting of the Command Council.” He was not looking forward to this meeting since he already knew how each member of the council would react. “You realize they’ll undoubtedly bring the Vulcans into this,” he added more for his own benefit than Archer’s. “We’ll have to figure out who’s going to contact the Paraagan homeworld.”

  “That should be my responsibility, sir,” Archer immediately responded. His pain was obvious through the viewscreen. He was wearing a mask of guilt, blame, self-recrimination, and about a dozen other fruitless emotions.

  “You’re right, it should.” It didn’t take Forrest’s training to realize that he needed to reign the captain in. “But let’s take this one step at a time.”

  “How do you tell all those families that ...”

  “You followed all the protocols that you were given.” Forrest could only repeat the information he was provided. This was not the time for questions. That would come later, in numerous meetings and briefings with a [29] variety of people. Now was the time for him to support the captain, so Archer, in turn, could help his crew.

  “We came here to meet these people”—Archer’s intensity level was on the rise—“to learn something about them. Not to kill them!”

  “You followed the protocols!” Forrest insisted, understanding the captain’s emotional state but also realizing that a job still needed to be done. “You’ve got a crew that’s going to be looking to you to figure out how to react to all this. Don’t let them down.” He knew his words were harsh but necessary. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. I’m sorry, Jon.”

  One last look at the pained expression on Archer’s face and Forrest ended the transmission. He continued to stare at the blank screen, knowing that Archer was doing the same on the other end.

  Fifteen minutes ago he had been laughing with a new group of cadets. He was sharing with them some of Enterprise’s more thrilling stories of exploration, truly enjoying the looks of wonder and excitement. He knew that each and every one of the cadets dreamed of being assigned to Enterprise for its next mission, or possibly one of the ships currently in development. Furthermore, he knew that every active member of Starfleet had that same aspiration. Fifteen minutes ago everything had been so simple and life had been so good.

  Of course, that was fifteen minutes ago for the admiral. In that same time he knew the Enterprise crew had been checking and double-checking information. And three [30] hours ago, while he was grumbling about his busy schedule, thousands of colonists were dying.

  Where do we even start? he thought to himself. Starfleet had prepared for numerous unexpected scenarios inherent in the type of exploration Enterprise was conducting, but nothing could ever truly ready them for that type of loss. Somehow, they were going to have to contact a people whom they had never met and explain that an Earth vessel was responsible for the annihilation of an entire colony. It doesn’t help that we don’t even know what happened.

  The admiral hit his personal comlink to the outer office. “Lieutenant, get me Commander Williams immediately and alert the rest of the Command Council that we need to meet.”

  “Yes, sir,” his aide responded. “But I believe Ambassador Soval is on his way over from the Vulcan Compound.”

  Dammit, he thought, not now. Taking a breath, he tried to keep emotion out of his voice. “Please contact his people and inform them that I’ve had to cancel. And Lieutenant, it would be best that this happened before he reached headquarters.” It was one thing to keep Soval out of the loop for the moment, it was quite another for Forrest to have to lie to the ambassador’s face about why he had to cancel the lunch.

  “And if they ask the reason for—”

  “Make something up!” Forrest was beginning to feel the same anger that he knew Archer was experiencing. He just hoped the captain wasn’t taking it out on his crew in the same manner he was with his aide. He balled his fists, [31] hoping to focus all of the stress into his tightly squeezed hands. “And cancel the afternoon schedule.”

  “Everything?” the lieutenant asked in a hopeless tone.

  “Everything!”

  “Yes, sir!” His aide snapped to attention at his desk so hard that Forrest practically heard it over the com. The com went dead.

  Forrest knew he could rely on his aide to stop Soval before the Vulcan set foot in the building. The kid would then spend the rest of the day clearing the afternoon schedule, and probably have to do the rest of the week as well. For the first time ever, Forrest actually envied the lieutenant. How I would love for that to be my largest concern for the day.

  Light-years away T’Pol had finished analyzing the pod’s sensor logs and found no information that explained the apparent failure of the plasma ducts. The captain had, predictably, not handled the news well; he’d verbally lashed out at her in his ready room. Uncomfortable with his heightened emotional state, T’Pol had excused herself to continue the search for explanations.

  “The probe is launched,” Mr. Reed reported from his station on the bridge.

  “Please keep me advised on your progress,” she replied as she stepped into the turbolift. Looking back to the ready room, her feeling of unease around the emotional human crew intensified. As the doors closed, she realized that her own tension level had risen and took a brief moment to enact a meditative exercise to help quell the [32] feeling. She knew that she would have to find time for a more lengthy meditation before the day was out, but for now, that would have to wait.

  The turbolift doors opened on D-deck and into a corridor abuzz with activity but she ignored the distraction and continued focusing on the task at hand.

  Entering the launch bay, she found Trip with an engineering crew hovering around Shuttlepod One.

  “Report,” she stated, cutting through any extraneous conversation.

  “We’ve gone over the thing with a fine-tooth comb,” Trip said, using one of his customary Earth expressions as he moved to the side of the pod, leaning down by the plasma exhaust ports. “A physical examination of the pod shows that the ducts are closed.”

  “Could they have been forced shut during the impact from the explosion?” T’Pol asked, knowing the likeliho
od of such an event was a low.

  “That’s doubtful,” he confirmed. “And it would still bring up the question of why all the sensors read that they were already closed.”

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “If the ports were open, the flash point of the explosion could have ignited the plasma and sent the blast back into the pod. I’ve been reading the information provided by the Paraagans on tetrazine reactions as well as what we have in the Vulcan database, but the information is limited on that side of the equation.”

  [33] “A possibility,” she concurred. “However, since no one on the ship has experience with these kinds of reactions, it will be difficult to reach a conclusion on your supposition.”

  “Well, right now all we’re gonna have is supposition. This isn’t exactly one of them textbook situations!” Trip’s emotions boiled up unexpectedly for a moment, and T’Pol was taken aback. “Sorry,” he said.

  “The captain is depending on us to present him with some facts,” she reminded him, ignoring the outburst. “Carry on.” T’Pol made her way out of the launch bay.

  She continued onto E-deck, gathering information while seeking out solitude. Even finding herself alone in the corridor, she could still feel the mental turmoil of the crew assaulting her senses. It seemed likely to her that the situation would reach a critical point soon, and she would be ill prepared to handle such. In these situations she had learned to rely on the captain’s ability to deal with his human crew and provide the stability they required. This time, however, it seemed likely that his behavior was not going to help, and she might have to step in to maintain control. It was not a pleasant concept.

  Pushing aside her concerns, she moved onto the one member of the crew that, while quite emotional, did not share in the volatility she had learned to expect from humans.

  “Any progress?” she asked as she entered sickbay and found the doctor scrolling through some data on a monitor.

  Phlox continued his work as he detailed the few findings thus far. “Mister Reed set the probe down in the [34] center of the colony, but I’m not picking up any biosigns, living or dead. It appears that most everything on the surface was vaporized.”

  T’Pol found the doctor’s concise declaration of the facts to be refreshing. “I’ve researched the Paraagan’s funereal customs,” she said, rather matter-of-factly. “It’s going to be difficult for them if there are no remains.”

  His face registered a look of regret that said there was nothing they could do about that. Although it was clear that he would continue the search.

  “How’s the captain?” Phlox asked what appeared to be an innocent question, though T’Pol suspected otherwise.

  “His behavior has been”—she searched for the word—“erratic. He seems to alternate between agitation, despondency, and guilt. He spends most of his time alone. I’ve tried to remind him that this was an accident, but his responses have been illogical.” She paused, reluctant to suggest what she knew to be true. “He seems to be ignoring his responsibilities as captain.”

  Oddly, Phlox smiled in response. “Ah, to be Vulcan.”

  T’Pol regarded him with a questioning look.

  “It’s been my experience that humans have a great deal of difficulty separating emotional despair from what you call responsibility,” he explained.

  “Nevertheless,” T’Pol continued, “as his physician, you should monitor him closely to be certain he remains fit for command.”

  Phlox’s face took on a serious expression. “I understand how”—now he searched for the right word—[35] “uncomfortable his behavior must be for you. But trust me, it would be unnatural for the captain not to be affected by grief under these circumstances. It’s human nature.” His smile returned full strength and larger than any she had seen before. “He’ll be fine.”

  T’Pol did not necessarily agree with the doctor’s diagnosis.

  Chapter 4

  Admiral Forrest and his full staff stepped out of the clamorous conference room. When the door closed behind him, they could still hear the yelling, which seemed rather pointless considering the admiral was no longer there to hear the accusations. As Forrest suspected, the members of the Command Council had taken turns blaming each other for the woes of mankind in their knee-jerk reaction to find fault with someone. He knew from experience that the scapegoat mentality would lessen with time as the council accepted equal responsibility for the decision to start Earth’s exploration of the stars. Forrest hoped that they would move to that next stage quickly before Captain Archer was forced to bear the full burden of recrimination.

  Luckily, the admiral’s staff was well trained to know that they would not speak until he spoke. They had attended the meeting solely as support, ready to run and fetch information as it was needed. His aide took care of [37] them as he silently motioned for each staff member to carry out the jobs that had been detailed for them during the council meeting.

  “I am developing one hell of a tension headache,” Forrest said to the lieutenant.

  “Do you want me to get you something for it?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “So far it’s been the best part of the day.”

  Once again, Forrest found himself walking down the halls of Starfleet Headquarters. This time, however, his step was much slower, though certainly not lighter. One by one, his staff would break off to numerous sundry destinations until it was just himself and his aide. The kid was blessedly silent as they plodded their way through the halls.

  Forrest had briefed the council. The discussions had begun and the planning ensued. Starfleet Headquarters was buzzing with activity. The lieutenant told him earlier that he had already received half a dozen com calls from people outside of Starfleet seeking details on what had happened. In typical fashion bad news had traveled at breakneck speeds, and the admiral knew that it was going to be impossible to keep the Enterprise incident from the public for long. But it wasn’t the general public who concerned him at the moment.

  This is not going to be fun, Forrest thought as they reached the formal receiving room. The chamber was conveniently distant from the main conference room, which Forrest couldn’t help but suspect was intentionally done by design.

  [38] The door whooshed open and he found Ambassador Soval awaiting his arrival, surrounded by a phalanx of dour-looking Vulcans. How do people who routinely suppress their emotions always seem to look so miserable? he thought. Or maybe that’s the reason.

  “Ambassador,” he said, trying to maintain a pleasant tone, though he knew even that emotion was not going to be well received. “I’m so sorry I had to cancel our lunch appointment, but a rather pressing situation has come up.”

  “I see,” the ambassador replied in his usual manner, not quite accepting the apology but acknowledging it.

  “May we have the room for a moment?” Forrest nodded to his aide, who immediately turned and made his way back out to the corridor. The admiral then waited for a period of time that seemed just short of forever before Soval made his slight nod for his entourage to also vacate the room.

  “I trust this pressing situation has something to do with your ill-advised mission into space?”

  Forrest focused all his attention on his growing headache, preferring that pain to the discomfort of dealing with Soval. “The matter centers around Enterprise,” he confirmed.

  “They were en route to the Paraagan colony, if I recall correctly.” Soval acted as if he was searching his memory for the information, but Forrest had never known the ambassador to be unsure about anything he had said.

  “Yes,” Forrest confirmed, standing almost at full attention. He had always found this pose to be most relaxing for him when dealing with the Vulcans. It was the one posture that betrayed the least emotion.

  [39] “A difficult world to visit,” Soval remarked. “Especially if one does not vigilantly navigate the atmosphere.”

  Forrest suspected the conversation was
about to become even more difficult; Once again, he focused his concentration on the growing pain in his head. He already knows, the admiral realized. He knows and he’s come prepared with his response.

  MAAGLA FREMAA: OPERATIONS SUPERVISOR

  GENDER: FEMALE

  AGE: 43

  PLACE OF ORIGIN: PARAAGAN SOUTHERN DESERT

  TIME ON COLONY: FOUNDING COLONIST

  The woman’s image held on the monitor in Archer’s quarters as he read the brief summary of her life. He hadn’t even the chance to meet the operation’s supervisor, but he knew her face would haunt him the rest of his days. All of the faces that he was seeing now would be with him forever.

  DAAVICO LOANG: EDUCATOR

  GENDER: MALE

  AGE: 29

  PLACE OF ORIGIN: PARAAGAN NORTHERN COAST

  TIME ON COLONY: 5 YEARS

  He knew that his behavior wasn’t productive. He should be on the bridge with his crew, trying to solve the mystery or at least guiding them as they worked on the hopeless [40] task. He knew there were a hundred more things he should be doing as captain and commanding officer, but he could not tear himself away from the screen in his quarters as it showed him more and more images of the Paraagan colonists. Each listing providing only brief clues to a person that no longer existed.

  MANDAI BAATL: CHILD

  GENDER: FEMALE

  AGE: 2 MONTHS

  PLACE OF ORIGIN: PARAAGAN COLONY

  TIME ON COLONY: 2 MONTHS